Fisting: Now with more strawberry!

We've all seen it at one point or another.

Don't try to deny it.

Sitting, or standing, watching in awe. That something SO LARGE could fit into such a small opening.

It's astounding. It can be revolting, but it's mostly a marvel.

I feel embarassed to admit it, but this time, after I saw it, I was actually drawn to it. I was nearly salivating because I wanted it so badly.

It was huge and freakish and odd and beautiful.

Yeah, I'm sure there was no genetic modification involved in this freak at all. (And by freak I mean the strawberry, not the blogger holding said strawberry).

What, what were you expecting?

I can only imagine the level of disappointment someone is feeling if they ventured here on a much different Google search...


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My feet are menstruating. More details to follow...

Trust me, there is a story here.

Just can't tell it now... tune in tomorrow!!

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The Reacharound

Let me begin by saying that this post has nothing to do with prison, nor the love of two men.

I was in the grocery store today, doing my thing, on a hunt for okra because I decided to go to the closest grocery store to my place of employment that might have okra. So this was new territory for me. I wandered, shivering in the A/C, looking for my okra.


I found it in the farthest back corner of the store, and was quite pleased. I am sure my smile looked maniacal. (Trust me people, there is such little I can eat). The man beside me looked, quite frankly, a little afraid.

At first I thought it must have been my maniacal smile. Then I realized I probably looked really really strange rifling through the pre-pakaged vegetables on the highest shelf looking for the freshest ones.

Am I the only one who does this (besides my mother)?

The ole reacharound? A little rifling? A check to find the best shizz?

Those store owners and stock boys know a thing or two. They know if they put the good, fresh ___________ (fill in the blank) at the front, that the shittier stuff will never be purchased. So, in my youth, my mother taught me the invaluable reacharound, in order to get to the best shizz hidden at the back.

Not to be trusted.

I'm sure I looked like an idiot, moving things around, comparing the best 3 out of 4 packages of freakin' okra. And I studied them fiercely, make no mistake.

I've never actually seen okra fresh and/or wholly green like this.

 Then I thought - I need to make this a post and see if I am the only one who does this.

This goes for bread for BF, milk, yogurt, even sneakily stacked apples and random produce. At least being on the taller side allows me to reach places that shorter, elderly people can't.

Then I had an attack of conscience. Am I somehow jumping the line of fresh food entitled-ness? Am I altering the balance of the universe by circumventing standard purchasing procedures? Will I screw myself out of okra because the guy at Longo's will be all like "hmm... looks like this stuff isn't moving... all we have are these nasty super-moldy ones left" (as opposed to the slightly-less moldy ones I was able to secure).

It's usually somewhere between there and here (but closer to here). Did I mention I am allergic to mould?

Am I wrong? More diabolical?

Just sayin'.

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