Insignificant Update

I needed to visit the shops today to pick up a few essentials, bread and milk and bacon. Normally we do our shopping at a Woolworths in Gilles Plain, up North-East Road because their fresh produce is always so cheap, basically consistent with my understanding of supply and demand when it comes to the Northern Suburbs. Around our place food is much more expensive.

However, when I only need a few things I will visit the Coles in St Peters which is a shorter drive.

For those less familiar with Adelaide's geography, St Peters and the inner eastern suburbs are home to most of the mansions and other expensive real estate close to the city. At the Coles in St Peters I once saw green capsicums for nine dollars a kilogram!

Anyway, when I usually visit St Peters I put on jeans, because I fear that I won't be accepted if I walk into the shops and all the rich, elderly ladies and manservants see me in tracksuit pants and they might not serve me. I also fear that they'll monitor me suspiciously and they'll notice that I pull the stems and stickers off the truss tomatoes and get them for the price of the regular tomatoes.

Tonight, I decided to wear track pants. Alex just returned from America and he brought me home a birthday present: Dallas Mavericks warm up pants, the kind of tracksuits that have pockets but that you can also grab by the waist and rip off in less than a second thanks to a well-greased zip down each side. I wasn't planning on actually ripping them off at Coles (it takes about 30 seconds to reassemble them after), but I was already wearing them and they were warm and comfortable. And I was feeling cocky.

I walked through the automatic gate at Coles, pushing one of those shallow half-trolleys you only get at supermarkets visited by the well off who don't buy in bulk, and immediately I was regarded with distrust and revulsion. As I surveyed the yogurt section, looking for any low fat, 'reduced to clear' passionfruit yogurt a lady with a two year old wearing a private school uniform stared as she walked past, and then held her nose up. Later, when I was examining the price per kilogram of all the different frozen berries an elderly lady with too much make up and long, gold earrings came up to me.

"Why are you wearing those?" she said, emphasis on the those like she was trying hard not to spit.
"I know, I'm sorry..."
"You reckon the Mavericks are good?"
"I'm just a big Dirk fan." I said "I don't really follow his team."
"Heat are going to fuck you up!" she said.
"Well, maybe. It's yet to be seen what kind of chemistry Lebron, Wade and Bosh will have when they're all on the court at the same time..."
"FUCK YOU UUPPPPPPPPPPPP!" And she jabbed me in the leg with her walking stick. Then she reached into the freezer and grabbed the box of berries that come with the servings individually packaged, for like a 200% mark up in cost.
"Go Miami!" She said as she shuffled away. "JJ Barea should fuck off back to Cuba!"
"He's from Puerto Rico..." I started, but she had already left the aisle.

Comments

Frankie

I tuned out at the basketball bit, but anyway... do you continually run over your toe with those shallow half trollies? Most shithouse invention ever.

September 7 2010 - Like
Sam

I liked this.

September 8 2010 - Like
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