She was a folk singer

I can't stand people that sing, not people that sing in a band, nor us tone deaf folk that fail to hit a single note while rocking out in our cars with all the windows up. I'm talking about people who sing while they're supposed to be helping you. The woman checking my groceries at Whole Foods would be a good example.

Now I can only assume that someone, somewhere, most likely a parent or some schmuck trying to get laid led this woman to believe that she could sing. Because in all honesty it's a voice only a mother could love. Possibly a pathetic lie told while dry humping and desperate, and I mean a DESPERATE need to play hide the tofu-salami, most likely after said schmuck ran out of date rape drugs at a sorority party.

Fine sing, take voice lessons, But what the fuck makes you think it's okay to do while you're at work, weighing my bok choy and running my credit card. I would honestly find it less offensive to watch someone shit on the floor in the seafood department. And what the fuck makes you think that I, or any of the thirty customers lined up behind me, would want to hear that off-key fucking hippie ass teach your children well shit yodel spewing like some Technicolor yawn all over the express lane.

Needless to say I will never be going back to Whole Foods.




My boycott of one lasted over two years. And though it may not appear to be outwardly affecting them I think they lie alone in their beds at night, heads gently resting upon buckwheat pillows, bodies laid out on organic mattress and while silently rocking themselves to sleep they cry on the inside.

My boycott was halted by an unfortunate incident involving driving, low blood sugar, a fat day and only an Arby's in sight. I broke down and willingly sacrificed my morals for the growing girth of my ass and fair trade vegetables.

I made it through the salad bar and most of the checkout line unscathed. And as watched the happy customers ahead of me purchase their products without incident I had my very own Mary Tyler Moore moment. I was gonna make it after all.

How wrong I was.

My cashier, who seemed to have her wits about her decided to show me all of her tattoos.

Tattoos of her spirit guides and proceeded to tell me how each spirit guide originally appeared to her.

I didn't get annoyed, though it could have been out of sheer weakness and the fact I was about to pass out, I don't think I'll ever be clear on this. I just took my salad and started eating it while at the register waiting for my change.

I went with the flow for almost ten minutes, this included smiling, nodding, oohing AND aahing.

I guess if some company sees the importance in letting their employees "be who they are" then they would also see the importance of letting their customers "be who they are."

In this case that would be hypoglycemic.

And yes, from now on I will be carrying a banana with me.