Thursday, August 26, 2004
I hate hippies.

I guess I'm not supposed to hate hippies...as they are so full of love and peace and all. But let me explain.

Yesterday, I went to go do some work for school at this co-op grocery store/cafe near my apartment. Those of you who live here probably know just the co-op that I am speaking of-- and I am most certain that I am probably going to offend one or two people with this post -- but I just must.

I used to not mind the co-op. Especially when I was dating someone who insisted on going there every morning. But back then I think I was just clouded by the fact that I was associating this co-op breakfast tradition with getting action. Now, without the presence of action, I must cry out against this place.

As I drove up to the co-op and parked next to a car with thirty bumper stickers crowding its back window, I got a sinking feeling. I kind of knew I didn't want to be there but I had a lot of work to do. This place has a big salad bar in the middle of the cafe and I decided to have a big healthy salad and bread.

When I neared the salad bar, I saw one giant but slow-moving fly circling lazily around. Normally, that would be enough to send me straight out the door, but I was really hungry and tired of driving around. So I watched the fly for awhile and convinced myself that it didn't go near the salad bar because of the refridgeration. So I dodged it and got my salad, poking at the lettuce leaves suspiciously, searching for any remnant of fly or other gross things. Then I got my rolls.

Finally I got into the line to purchase my items. The dreadlocked eighteen-year-old white boy in front of me surely hadn't showered since middle-school. The smell of him alone was enough to make my grumbling stomach contract in agony. Then I noticed the flies. Smaller, faster, more of them. They were everywhere and hovering dangerously close to my salad. I almost abandoned my mission right then, but suddenly I was at the front of line.

Just as I handed the cashier my money a knat landed on my roll. I waved it away frantically (I don't know why I bothered-- once a gnat touches my food it has to be immediately thrown away) and the cashier looked at me like he thought I was over-reacting.

"A bug landed on my bread." I explained, trying to remain calm.
"A gnat?" he sneered, as if I was being just sooo hoity-toity.

I slunk to my table. I managed one bite of the salad before a fly landed in the center of it. I groaned in disgust out loud and the other patrons of the co-op dining room looked at me as if I had sprouted horns or shouted that I didn't recycle. They were not bothered by the flies. They were all boredly slapping the insects off of their hummus and tofu hunks and plowing right through. Clearly I was not as comfortable with the nature that the Goddess has provided as they were.

I threw away my food (also to the hateful glare of the cashier who disapproved of my wastefulness) and walked out the door. As I passed my the sliding door of the cafe a giant fly hit me in my cheek, sending me reeling around with a howl. I felt that this was the flies' way of claiming victory.

I ended up, defeated but much more comfortable, at a pub drinking beer and eating french fries.

In less digusting news, we are going to karaoke again tonight! You should come. Normally we skip at least one week in between karaoke in order to let the vocal cords heal, but Owen has visitors and we are breaking that tradition! To hell with vocal cords, we say! ¶ 4:30 AM