taking the passive out of passive-aggressive

Monday, June 23, 2003

My refrigerator looks totally white trash right now, filled with nothing but white bread and cream cheese and beer. It reminds me of when I go to the grocery store and I'm in line behind the person who's buying ten liters of store-brand cola, three loaves of white bread, and a jar of Hellman's. Or the guy who buys his individually wrapped dinners and a six-pack of Miller Lite every single day--I love that guy, I've made up a whole story about him. I think he might live alone and his wife is dead and the house is decorated just like it was in 1965, and he sits carefully at the dining room table and drinks a Miller Lite and eats his reheated meal.

I'm always careful at the grocery store not to let anyone see me buy anything embarassing, like Chee-tos. I don't really eat stuff like Chee-tos any more and I think it might be because I'm embarassed to put them on the conveyor belt. No Doritos for me! Only five-dollar cheese and seventeen pounds of vegetables! I like the way my food looks on the conveyor belt, when it's proper food. I like the worthy feeling of granola and asparagus and strawberries. It's strange that buying groceries is a performance, I'll admit; but if it keeps me from feeding my kid those tacky "Kid's Meal" frozen dinners (you know, the ones with the blue applesauce?) then it's all for the best.


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