Act One: Produce
Jodifabulous: To self.* "I'd like thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat, if we could cycle down some lane. I'd like thaaaaaaaaaaaaaat if we could ride into the rain, no macs getting wet" ... I need bananas. Asparagus. Cucumber and tomato sandwiches. I'm hungry, but not hungry enough to eat cucumbers and tomatoes on pumpernickel without salt and pepper. I mean no salt and pepper -- dis-gus-ting. Tripe-washed spinach. I doubt that. "Say a sunflower I became, I'd be growing in your rain."
Sateen NASCAR jacket guy: Beg your pardon?
Jodifabulous: Heh. Nothing. To self (for real, I hope). He needs a shave.
Act Two: Deli-side
Bell: Ding!
Shower cap girl: What kin I gitcha?
Jodifabulous: I'd like a half-pound of the munster cheese please.
Scale: To self. 34, .44, .54
Jodifabulous: Humming. "And in no tah-ahm, you'll be fah-ine." Oh. That's good.
Shower cap girl: You sure?
Jodifabulous: Yes, a little over. It's fine.
Scale: Beep. Chick chick chick.
Shower cap girl: Anything else I can gitcha today?
Black Sharpie marking pen: Squeaky, squeaky, squeak.
Jodifabulous: Nope. I'm all set.
Shower cap girl: OK. You have a great day.
Jodifabulous: OK. You too. To self.* Skip the chip aisle. Hey, beer! Bass, Sierra Nevada. Bass, Sierra Nevada. Bass, Sierra Nevada. Guinness? No. Bass? Sierra Nevada. Now when I buy Tide, that'll go underneath ... yes ... underneath. Jodifabulous places 6-pack in shopping trolley undercarriage and sings. Out loud. "Ohh, when you're cold I'll be there. Hold you tight, to me, to me, yeah. Ohh, when you're alone, I'll be there. By your side, baby." I love Sade. Even though I eat it, ketchup is wrong. The song ends.
Flourescent lights: Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ...
Act Three: Pet Sundries and Dairy
Jodifabulous: To self.* This is the coolest grocery store ever. "Have. You. Fed the fish to-dayayay." I've been singing this whole trip. I know all the wor ... JESUSTHISISAFARMERJACK!!! I'm adult Contemporary. Yep, 27. I'm 27. If I were Kurt Cobain, I'd have my toe in a shotgun trigger right now ... and now I know why. What are the evil grocery lords going to play next. Manic Street Preachers? Suicide is Painless? Oh well, I'm more of a crazy-old-hermit-lady-who-spites-love-because-she-lost-it-type anyway. "Good night, you moonlight ladies." I'm going all Miss Havisham tomorrow.
Curtain.
*By "To self," I mean to anyone in my general vicinity. I lost the ability and the impetus to distinguish between "in my head" and "out loud" with punctuated "NO CLOTHES!" outbursts while giving birth for the second time, naked in a roomful of relatives who, taken separately, are allowed to see me naked, but at the same time ... awww man.
