Yesterday I ventured over to my local grocery store to partake of the fine conveniences of being an American: that is, having other people gather food in a central location so I can just pay them for it instead of getting it myself.
I immediately found myself sucked into the beauty that is the “10 for 10” deal. That’s right: 10 items for 10 dollars. That’s only one perfectly rounded dollar each.
This time it was on mangoes.
I’ll be honest: I don’t really care for mangoes. I’m not against them, necessarily, but I don’t go to the store expecting to come home with a mango. But let’s face it – if you slap a $1 dollar deal on a pile of milarchy, I’ll walk out of the store with it.
So I’m over in the mango section, admiring the beautiful roundness of their hides, when I realized I have absolutely no idea how to tell if a mango is ripe. As I eyed them over suspiciously, I was interrupted by a middle-aged woman who had no interest in nonsense. She asked if I knew how to tell if a mango was ripe. I told her it was a funny thing to ask because I was just there thinking I didn’t have the slightest clue myself. And that’s when she said it:
“Oh. You looked like you would know.”
I looked like I would know? Let me paint a picture for you. I typically head to the store looking like a hobo. If I have to go do something adult-like and responsible, I’m sure as heck not about to do it all dressed up like it. On this particular day, I was sporting a pair of sweatpants from high school that I cut half the legs off of. I paired it with a very old, very much Dave’s, black hooded sweatshirt with little holes worn in the sleeves for my thumbs, which I put my thumbs through thank-you-very-much. I topped it all off with a pair of sneakers I’ve had since freshman year of college.
This lady had low standards for melon experts.
I don’t have a good working knowledge of produce. Up until a few months ago, I didn’t even know what a real, genuine green bean looked like.
But inspired by the idea that I look like the kind of person who might know about these things, I continued about the produce section, pretending to be an expert of various sorts. I made up ways to tell whether or not things were prime for picking, and made ridiculous conjectures. I looked bok choy in the face and pretended I knew what it was. I also ended up buying a lot of produce. I probably spent twenty minutes just browsing around in character and it was glorious.
And then I remembered: this is why I don’t shop without Dave. ♣
P90X Update: 4/90 complete. Hey. 86 more days is a long time to have to do this crap. Why, why, why, why did I decide to do this?