my actual favorite thing: referring to events as “The Avocado Incident of ‘04″ or “The Great Water Bottle Catastrophe of ‘99″ like. it’s so grandiose and vague. what the fuck happened in 2004 and why does this person remember it so vividly
one time i was innocently perusing the aisles of my favourite weird organic grocery store at around 7pm, which is the best time to go, because all of the rich petty white people are gone and the staff have wandered out of their grocery goblin caves to restock the shelves. its a romantic place.
the workers there are. interesting. you have to be a little quirky to survive the clientele organic grocery stores get. one time, in the clearance section, i overheard a passionate debate about whether or not any Real Human on Earth actually eats kale for the taste. and then the conversation derailed onto how “massaging dark leafy greens is necessary to reduce bitterness” and i began to wonder if they were actually talking in some strange code about their sex lives or something so i speedwalked the fuck out of there
a month or so ago, it was around 7pm, i was doing my usual “im out of touch with reality let me go buy some brussel sprouts” wednesday evening run. in between the brazil nuts and the dog food section, i overheard some staff talking and felt vaguely like a gazelle wandering amongst a pack of lions. weird, vegan lions who use kale as a metaphor for their relationships. whatever. anyway
i tracked them to the nut butter aisle, which was convenient because i’d just run out of peanut butter and felt a distinct missing piece in my life without it in my pantry. two men, bedecked in green aprons and jeans, were restocking the shelves with olives and various antipasto mixes, and chattering as usual.
one of them fumbled a bit with the pickled red pepper jar in his hands, and the other nimbly reached out to make sure it didnt drop to the floor. “woah, there, buddy, lets not re-enact the Great Coconut Oil Disaster of ‘07.” The first man blanched for a moment, then laughed, loudly. it echoed through the aisles.
i wanted to ask. i wanted to badly to ask. what happened to the coconut oil. why was it a disaster. why was it so catastrophic as to render being called “great,” so as to prompt its date being remembered, like the year of a major battle, or your grandchild’s graduation. and there they were, in their noble green garb of retail, privy to such a secret. i ached with curiosity, but i said nothing. i felt like a nature photographer: observe, learn, but dont interact with the wildlife. its strictly taboo.
