Why I Hate Whole Foods: Part 2

I’m sitting here watching some poor employee wash my trashtastic car getting my car washed and they have wi-fi! So now I can continue with my saga of why I hate Whole Foods.

The next Whole Food shopper is:

The Girls Who Need to be Fed:

Seriously. What happened?? Why are there so many skinny girls there? I don’t mean healthy skinny. I mean triple 0 skinny. Is it because all they eat is vegetables? Is it because they live downtown and probably live right above a fancy gym? Is it because they have an eating disorder? All of the above is probably true. I myself am kind of thin but these girls make me feel like a fat moo-cow. I feel like I need to be on their level to even be shopping at this place!

“If I put my hand out like this maybe someone will feed me…”

*Editors note: eating disorders are no joke unless I’m writing about them in my blog.*

Girls dressed in athletic gear:

These females are saying “Look at me bitches, I work out!” I don’t like it. Maybe I work out too! I don’t.

I admire women who can run and still look pretty in their track suits. I run and look like this:

I’ll be pretty someday.

I really have nothing clever to say about these women except that there are a lot of them at Whole Foods and it makes me feel less than awesome. Fuck you and the track suit you ran in. (I’m just bitter.)

Pretty, gay men:

It’s not fair. Every gay man at Whole Foods seems to be prettier than a super model & they all just flock to this place! I made a mental note that day: don’t go to Whole Foods to pick up a husband.

I think a large portion of their clientele is actually pretty, gay men. They eat organic.  I have a plethora of gay friends & most of them are pretty damn handsome and concerned in keeping their good looks intact. I can’t say I blame them — I’d want to keep my dashing good looks solid as well.  Next time I’m at Whole Foods I’m going to choose one of them to be my best friend. I need a Jack McFarland in my life.

I love a man in jazz hands!

The Awkward People

You can spot the awkward people very easily. The ones that don’t normally shop at Whole Foods and thought they would just “drop in for a quick second.” They are the ones running around in non-athletic gear, pushing their carts while their knuckles turn purple with a terrified look on their faces.

“I just wanted some mayonnaise!!”

This is the category I seem to fit into….and also most of my friends. I’m the one walking around with a lost look on her face trying not to wet herself while she rides the escalator five times before finding the bathroom hidden behind the organic fruit bar. I feel like everyone is constantly judging me and suddenly develop this cool new way of walking that says “I have money! I fit in!!!” (I don’t.)

Look around next time you’re in there and I bet you 5 bucks you see at least one person huddled by a shelf trying to make their way through the maze!

General Notes of Frustration with Whole Foods:

It stinks in there.

I just want fucking potato chips! Can I just have them made of potatoes? Give me starch or give me death. I don’t need beet chips or banana chips or cauliflower chips or salmon chips. Just good ol’ potato chips, please.

It’s so crowded!! Apparently not enough people hate Whole Foods because there’s always some sort of traffic jam going on and everyone is a terrible driver.

They keep delicious desserts by the cash register!! Perhaps it’s to entice the girls who need to eat a sandwich but instead I end up eating them. I always end up leaving with two cups of cherry pie (they have CUPS of cherry pie! This is the *one* thing I like about Whole Foods but also abhor.)

Parking there sucks. I almost got into two wrecks in the 15 minutes I was there and I am not a reckless parking lot driver. Let’s slow it down, shall we? Your beloved, biodegradable, hemp seed toilet paper isn’t going anywhere.

ha. cute.

In summary, I will not be going to Whole Foods again any time soon. Unless I have dance rehearsal downtown again and am starving like last time. I will be sticking with Mr. H-E-B or even Mrs. Central Market (who tends to be only slightly less douchey than Whole Foods.)

This blog is over and it started raining outside. My car just got washed. Fuck my life.

Why I Hate Whole Foods.

I would like take this first sentence of my blog to apologize to those who shop at Whole Foods and enjoy it. You may not fit into any of the following categories but the following has to be said:

I hate shopping at Whole Foods. It smells like superiority in there but that could be the overwhelming smell of organic wheat-grass and herbs. Maybe that is what superiority smells like.

Yummy.

“But Minerva, if you hate Whole Foods so much, why were you there?”  Thank you for asking, Mr. Braff. The reason I was in there was because I had a dance rehearsal in downtown Austin and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go where I could purchase fruit. Who wants to walk into a dance studio holding a breakfast taco? Pretty sure I’d get kicked out.

I was in Whole Foods for all of 15 minutes, 8 of which were spent trying to make my way through the maze of a store to find the bathroom. I went up and down two escalators before finally finding the bathroom…it was the best moment spent in that place. On my search for the bathroom I started to notice the people that were surrounding me…it was an odd moment of realization.  I have categorized the shoppers of Whole Foods into the following areas:

Dirty Cashiers:

When I say “dirty” I don’t mean it in the “Hey, hoodlum, take a bath!” kind of way. I just mean it in the “I’m a hipster and I spend most mornings trying to make it seem like I don’t shower” kind of way. I started to wonder if perhaps it was a requirement to have at least one tattoo or body piercing prior to being hired. They all seemed nice enough but I have never been somewhere with so many hipsters behind the register at once (except maybe Buffalo Exchange.)

Spot on.

I’m glad they all have jobs but I kind of have to wonder if they washed their hands before bagging my groceries. They are just too good at pulling off the “no showers forever” look.

The Over-Organic Parents

I was once in this directing scene in university where the main character (me) was obsessed with feeding her daughter organic food so much so that she travels out to the middle of nowhere to buy organic carrots from a woman with orange-stained hands (because of the carrots!) When she gets home, she finds out her husband has fed their daughter a milkshake from McDonald’s, which according to her is “a milkshake without any milk!!” and proceeds to flip her shit.

Amy Winehouse-approved!

The parents in Whole foods strike me as the kind who would flip their shit over their child ingesting anything other than prissy ass super organic cow meat. Come to think of it, their child is probably vegetarian too and thus missing essential nutrients and proteins necessary to develop their growing bodies. Oh well, surely tofu has the same effects.

I was in the refrigerated drink isle looking for an energy drink and overheard this little girl begging for a juicebox. This is how that conversation went down:

Tiny Human: I want the grape juice!

Fascist Father: Okay, hold on.

Paranoid Mom: *grabs drink from father’s hands* This isn’t organic. *to daughter* I’m sorry, you can’t drink this juice. Pick something organic.

Tiny Human: But I want the juice!

Fascist Father: You can’t have it. Mom said no. How about this organic chocolate milk! (Side note: Way to pick the lamest drink on that shelf, dad.)

Tiny Human:  reluctantly okay….

Me: *slaps chocolate milk from father’s hands* JUST LET HER HAVE THE GRAPE JUICE!! FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, I’M PRETTY SURE I WAS FED NOTHING BUT CHILI DOGS FOR A WEEK AS A CHILD AND I TURNED OUT FINE!

I didn’t say that last part but I really wanted to. I promise, it’s okay to let your kid drink non-organic, sugar saturated fruit drinks from time to time. They won’t die. A child is only a tiny, innocent human for a short time and should be able to enjoy the whimsy of life while they can before they become a crazy cat lady or alcoholic  a responsible adult.

This blog is to be continued….there’s a lot to write so I’m going to take an intermission! Up next: Women who need to eat at least one sandwich, people wearing track suits, pretty, gay men, and awkward human beings (aka…people like myself.)

Well, then…

My goal to write lasted approximately two blog posts and one of those was me talking about wanting to write more. I need to get my life in check.

“Something you had that was stolen…”

The Backstreet Boys were my life beginning in 5th grade. By 7th grade I was totally obsessed. I used to make my own magnets for my locker with photos of them I’d clipped out of J-14 magazine or BOP.

HELL YEAH I have what it takes to be a Backstreet Boys girl. What kind of question is that?!

I worked in the office for one of my class periods and would introduce myself to students and then ask them if they liked BSB. If the answer was “yes” then I would give them one of my magnets to decorate their new locker. If the answer was “no” I immediately judged. Little did I know everyone else was judging the crap out of me. I was “that” kid.

Those matching, muted colors though. Yum!

I was the kid who would plaster posters and clippings all over her wall and eventually started moving up to the ceiling. I would save up any money I got my pre-teen paws on so that I could buy their exclusive DVDs. I’m not saying that I still have them in my DVD collection…but I’m not not saying that either. I would buy their foreign CDs and I would also make my own mix-CDs with songs I would download from Napster. Yes, the Napster.

*Insert dial-up sound*

I remember downloading one gem in particular. It was a mashup of BSB and Eminem. Surprisingly, I found it on the youtubes! I was so proud of this particular find. That would show those haters! Their music could even be incorporated with the one who hated them the most. (It’s actually a pretty awful mashup. Who knew?? Certainly not 14 year old me.) This unique and eclectic CD collection becomes important later on in the story.

I remember going on a field trip that year although I don’t remember to where. I was too distraught to pay attention to my surroundings I guess. In those days, you packed up your giant CD case, puffy headphones, your CD player (the non-skip kind if you were Mr. Moneybags), and extra batteries. I remember being set and so excited to listen to my new mix CD and secretly hoping someone would overhear how amazing the mashup was and then come talk to me. That did not happen.

I’m pretty sure this is my old CD player.

But this is the one I really wanted.

We arrived at our destination (whatever it was that I’m blocking out) and then came back to the bus. Lo and behold….MY FUCKING CD’S WERE GONE!!!!!! Some fucker stole my fucking CD’s!!! Do you know how long it took me to build my collection?!?! Do you know how much money fucking IMPORTS cost?! A LOT!!!

Feeling all the feels.

I was so mad. Clearly, I still am. Was I ballsy enough to say anything though? Nope. I just sat there and kept my mouth shut and cried. Alone. I had one CD left.

Did they steal my CD player or extra stash of batteries though? No. That’s how I know that whoever did it just did it to be hateful. Asshole! I don’t remember who you were but I wish a thousand plagues upon your fucking house.

Does the story end there?

Of course not. That would make my life too easy.

Later on in the day I saw a group of kids gathered around listening to a CD player and what should I hear but my fucking EMINEM AND BSB MASHUP! Those assholes were the ones that stole my CDs!!

But did I say anything? Nope.

I think that summarizes the entirety of my school career. A bunch of people being assholes and then me crying and not saying anything.

My poor CDs!

Thankfully now there is YouTube and Spotify so I can listen to gems like this all I want…on repeat, bitches!

642 Things to Write About…

I have not written in this in forever. I made it to ONE,  solitary, lonely blog post and then quit. Being witty is far too much work and nobody reads this thing anyway. However, I want to stretch my writing skills! I got this new book titled “642 Things to Write About” and it’s full of writing prompts ranging from poems to full length scripts. The fact that I got this book about 5 months ago is neither here nor there. Physically writing in it is fun but I thought it might be fun to keep up with it in the digital world too. My title of each blog post will denote what my prompt is. Enjoy! (Not sure who I’m talking to here…probably just my boyfriend. Love you! myself. Hello, single-town!)

My kitten is a jerk.

My kitten’s name is Sirius and he’s amazing in every single way except for the one thing that drives me up the wall. He can’t cook me dinner He shits at the most inopportune times. Part of me thinks he’s just doing it to be an asshole. Without further ado, I present to you my top 3 inappropriate “Sirius takes a dump” moments:

1. The second right before I fall asleep. 

This kid smells what Sirius is cooking.

How the hell does he do it?! How does he know? I don’t know but he does and it’s horrible. The stench always wakes me up. Did I mention he does not know how to cover his poop?? I could buy the most expensive litter to cover the scent but as long as that turd sits atop the littler like a cherry on a sundae it will always smell foul. 

2. Right before sexy time. 

I’ve taken a dump…you may proceed now.

I just want to have sex without the smell of cat shit permeating the air. I wonder what his thought process is… 

“Hmmmm human is about to partake in physical activity with attractive male counterpart. The only thing that would make this better would be the smell of my fecal matter. Yeah! That’ll make it more enjoyable!” 

3. RIGHT AFTER I CLEAN HIS GODDAMN LITTER BOX!!! 

“Where did my treasure go?! Where did my fucking treasure go?!”

I feel like it’s some sort of sick game! 

“How quickly can I produce & expel my crap between the time it takes her to scoop out my poop and put the box back down?? GAME ON!”

He’s winning this game. I’m actually kind of impressed at how quickly he’s able to shit immediately after. I usually wait until after he’s gone to empty it that way he doesn’t refill it right after…but lo and behold, he always manages to poop a second time. 

 

He’s loves me in every other way but I swear this is his revenge for me being a non-human. 

Here’s the poop machine himself:

 

He knows how to unravel the toilet paper but not how to use it.