Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Mystery Shopper Demographic Analysis
Early on Sunday afternoon happenstance and circumstance collided like drunken hobos in the night. That's a bit overdramatic, but hey. I was surprised by frantic angry doorbell pressings at one in the afternoon. One of my roommate's relatives had gone grocery shopping for us. What a surprise! A secret santa had visted the grocery store after an uplifting worshipping session at a local papal stroke center. I am truly grateful for free food. I would not spit in the face of help. And yet, I cannot pass up this opportunity to reflect.
Why were we chosen? Why did we recieve this bounty?
Perhaps somebody had whispered:
"Those filth stricken imbecilic freaks cannot feed themselves. Those boys are laying on their couches chugging beers, smoking joints, masturbating, playing video games, and eating Twinkies. They fart and giggle all day long without washing dishes or clothes, and they've become encrusted with some sort of former pizza sauce that's mold-morphed into a sentient exoskeleton that's consciously accelerating their depravity. Somebody go feed them! Inject them with vitamins and minerals! Sprinkle green Comet brand chemical sanitizer upon their greasy skin until they sneeze themselves off their couches! Make them wash!"
What a terrible impression. They think so lowly of me. I am an employed citizen who pays bills and enjoys mediocre credit. I shower once or twice daily and I even spend the occasional day sober. I can't speak for my roommate. I'll let him defend himself. That impression was likely derived from anecdotes of his behavior, not mine.
Let's wade throught the items and find out what they really mean. Shall we?
Chips Ahoy Deluxe Double Chocolate Chip Cookies, 1 bag.
I don't eat storebought cookies. While I usually love processed foods with large amounts of coloring agents and preservatives, cookies do not qualify. I like cookies fresh from the oven, preferrably made by my mommy. I suppose this purchase was intended to prevent me from suffering a sugar jones. She didn't want me to dive into a barrel of gummy bears at the candy store and do a backstroke through them, rubbing myself down with the rainbow gelatins, mashing them against my sugar starved gums.
Oscar Meyer Weiners, 1 package, 12 dogs.
This food is meant to indicate that I am a child who still has peanut butter from his lunchtime sandwich dripping from his chin. This food is intended to be dinner. These weiners are an amalgamation of pig lips and assholes ground into paste and reformed into dick-shaped flesh-toned jello logs. For children. They even put some oozing cheese in some of them so the kids won't freak out when they see STDs in ten years.
Also included were those mealy whitebread buns that are better balled up and thrown at other children than actually eaten. Fucking gross, all of it.
Hamburgers, one dozen, preformed, frozen.
Ah, frozen burger planks. They clack on the counter. Apparently I'm so ignorant that garlic powder, onion flakes, and Worchesteshire sauce are beyond the realm of my awareness. Those idiot boys can't form a patty! Give them something they can cook by knocking the toaster on its side!
She also bought more of that nasty breadlike bun material product, this time shaped in squares with rounded off corners.
Toilet paper, double-ply, three rolls.
Bought in the fervent hope that I was taught as a child not to shit in my pants. Buying this was a calculated risk, but since there's no one around to change my diapers, might as well buy something that could potentially be used in an asswiping situation.
Chorizo, two sticks.
Holy shit! Faith in action! Here's a glimmer of hope that I might have the patience to stand in front of a pan for ten whole minutes. Assuming I'm smart enought to squeeze the greased meat out of the platic tubing, that is. If not, the roomie and I will die by melted plastic toxin ingestion.
As it happens, I've already used this. I made chorizo vegetable soup on Sunday night, and it was damn good. (I had to go buy vegetables.) My roommate hijacked the last of it and sequestered it away in the back of the refrigerater for later consumption. Easy, killer.
Eggs, one dozen.
My stock is rising by the paragraph. She thinks I can fry an egg! Without leaving eggshell shrapnel in it! Awesome! I need to invite her over for an omelette. I'll even wear clean clothes and speak in complete sentences.
Bread, three loaves, two white, one raisin.
I hate white bread. Occasionally I'll use it for grilled cheese, but even then it takes half a stick of butter burned to it to make it worthwhile for me. Actually french toast, too. I hope my roommate eats white bread, or there's gonna be some happy ducks in my neighborhood.
Raisin bread is great. She even bought some spread butter for it. Spread butter is for lazy assholes. She nailed that one.
Pizzas, two frozen, Tombstone brand.
Yeah, okay. Sure.
Beef ribs, two racks, in that reddish orange Mexican marinade.
I don't have a grill. Shit. I'll figure out how to make these in the oven. She really took a stab here. I admire that. Between this and the chorizo she must think that somebody around here made it past elementary school. Which I did.
I love free food. Thank you so much for buying it for us. I will eat it every day. 11:10 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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