SHAME ON YOU
Mother's Day in Whole Foods on the Bowery. My brother and I are shopping for groceries for Mother's Day dinner and availing ourselves -- with numerous toothpicks and great frequency -- of the various free samples. Of course we should not be doing this. I mean, the only appropriate serving plate for a free sample is a petri dish, right? There really is no activity more likely to give me explosive diarrhea. Well, maybe there's one: if I ate actual explosive diarrhea. But my brother and I suspend our disbelief because we're like, hungry. And the samples are FREE. So we dip the chips and try the melon and, ooh! My favorite! Some sort of cheese sample with sundried tomatos and olives! Too bad there's a perfectly-sane-seeming middle-aged-woman in front of me, because I really want to have at that cheese. Well, I can wait; she's civilized, as evidenced by her Vespa helmet and the toothpick she just picked up. How hygienic! Good on you, lady!
Wait.
WHOA.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING, LADY?!
DID YOU JUST STICK YOUR TOOTHPICK, WHICH WAS JUST IN YOUR MOUTH, BACK INTO THE CHEESE?!
WHAT THE MOTHERFUCKING FUCK?!
NO! YOU CANNOT BE ROOTING AROUND THE ENTIRE CHEESE SAMPLE RIGHT NOW!
NO! NO! YOU ARE NOT MAKING YOURSELF A TINY CHEESE, TOMATO, AND OLIVE KEBAB!
YOU ARE!
YOU ARE MAKING AND EATING TINY CHEESE-SAMPLE KEBABS! WITH THE SAME ONE TOOTHPICK!
Oh, God. Please. Lady. Don't make me be a hero right now. I will do it: I will be a hero. I will be and I was a hero with these exact words: "What you're doing right now is really gross and you should stop immediately."
I wish I could describe what her response was to this, but I literally ran away. I had enough moxie to shame a stranger, but too little to bear witness to the fruits of my confrontation.
I'd like to think that she is the obnoxious person in this story, but that may not be the case. In my own defense, if this lady knows how to operate an Italian scooter and to construct tiny kebabs, she is probably not retarded. Which means she deserves to be shamed. But maybe not on Mother's Day. But maybe?
Wait.
WHOA.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING, LADY?!
DID YOU JUST STICK YOUR TOOTHPICK, WHICH WAS JUST IN YOUR MOUTH, BACK INTO THE CHEESE?!
WHAT THE MOTHERFUCKING FUCK?!
NO! YOU CANNOT BE ROOTING AROUND THE ENTIRE CHEESE SAMPLE RIGHT NOW!
NO! NO! YOU ARE NOT MAKING YOURSELF A TINY CHEESE, TOMATO, AND OLIVE KEBAB!
YOU ARE!
YOU ARE MAKING AND EATING TINY CHEESE-SAMPLE KEBABS! WITH THE SAME ONE TOOTHPICK!
Oh, God. Please. Lady. Don't make me be a hero right now. I will do it: I will be a hero. I will be and I was a hero with these exact words: "What you're doing right now is really gross and you should stop immediately."
I wish I could describe what her response was to this, but I literally ran away. I had enough moxie to shame a stranger, but too little to bear witness to the fruits of my confrontation.
I'd like to think that she is the obnoxious person in this story, but that may not be the case. In my own defense, if this lady knows how to operate an Italian scooter and to construct tiny kebabs, she is probably not retarded. Which means she deserves to be shamed. But maybe not on Mother's Day. But maybe?
posted by Megan at 1:53 AM
3 Comments:
It's just more cheese for me, kid. I'm the one who invented licking a potato chip and putting it back in the bag. Before you were even born!
Roy Rodgers. Maryland. Mid-80's. That lady tasting the dressings at the salad bar straight from the ladles. Remember? Traumatizing for me too.
too soon, keir. too soon.
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