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Monday, February 28, 2005

Uptown Girl

Today I had the worst grocery-buying experience ever.

We've been having trouble with our car, so after a few failed attempts of getting that bad boy started, I gave up and asked my sister if I could borrow her bike. She kindly said yes, and soon I found myself strapping on her helmet and throwing my leg over the side of the bike. The helmet was a little small. Imagine a rat wearing a thimble on its head. A rat whose longish hair jutted out from the sides of its thimble awkwardly. Before I got on the bike, I tilted it to the side to read the make and model. It was "Wilderness" brand's "Screaming Eagle".

So I rode to the grocery store, which only took about seven minutes. I locked the bike up and started shopping. On the way there, I remember thinking to myself that I should only buy the necessary things, because it would be a pain in the ass to carry a lot of bags home. Somehow within the first fourty-five seconds of browsing, I managed to forget this, and soon my cart was filled with two three-liter bottles of juice, a bag of apples, a large jar of peanut butter, and various other items. I paid for my items ($88.70), which sparked a realization: I am an idiot. $88.70 is way too much to spend on groceries that you plan on taking home on a bicycle.

I tried to organize it anyway, and I shoved the apples inside my backpack (which I thankfully had the foresight to bring), and balanced the remaining six bags divided evenly across the handlebars. I have news for those of you who think otherwise: carrying heavy groceries on bike handlebars is not the best way to obtain adequate steering on a bike. When I tried to veer, I jerked. When I tried to go straight, I veered. I made it about two blocks, managing to only run into a light pole with the bag containing corn chips, a bag of cookies, and a loaf of bread.

Then, as I crossed a busy intersection, one of the large juices burst through the bag and fell into the street.

"Fuck!" I said. "Fuckshit!"

Once I crossed the street, I parked the bike and picked up my battered juice. I shoved it and the rest of the contents of the torn bag into my backpack, which then weighed about thirty-five pounds. I made it the next few hundred meters without incident, but when I got to the home stretch, the coveted but very small jar of salsa I bought ripped through a bag and tumbled along the street next to me. I accidentally rolled over it with the bike.

"Dammit!" I cried. "Damn it to hell!"

Somehow the salsa didn't break, and I shoved it in the backpack as well.

I got back on the Screaming Eagle and started pedaling. I passed two cute girls who were walking across a single-lane bridge who gave me a look that you would give a retarded puppy as I struggled to climb up the bridge's incline. I resisted the urge to make a self-deprecatory but humorous comment. Upon passing the bridge, two old people stared at me as I swerved past them.

After about twenty minutes of travel, I made it home, and I treated myself to two apples and some peanut butter.

4 Comments:

Blogger Christopher Zane said...

Your entry reminded me of the many harrowing events that I, myself have been through on that bick, some with groceries, some without. I feel that since I was able to relate so closely with your writing, that must be the explination for me laughing SO loudly, tears streaming down my face with abandon.

-Your Sister

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