The Beautiful Kind

OK, I tried. I tried not to be one of Those People Who Rave About Trader Joe’s. It seems so midwestern and embarrassing to get so excited about a store that carries blueberry cheese and vegetarian caviar. But I’m finally succumbing to the seductive allure of candy cane sandwich cookies and $4.99 bottles of wine and outing myself as a Trader Joe Ho.

I swear that place just about fulfills all my needs except sexual. I love that they can get me schickered so cheaply, and that they totally cater to us vegetarian assholes. You can go up to anyone who works there and ask them where something is and they’ll walk you right over to it, and then invite you along on their New Orleans road trip. I’ll bet if you asked them relationship advice they would do whatever they could to assist you, giving you therapy along with your mango chutney sample.

I get all warm and fuzzy inside when checking out because they make all this intimate eye contact with you and use your name and practically give you a back rub. And they’re all so cute and quirky with their piercings and goofy eyeglasses and I wonder how they can pay the rent on grocer wages, or maybe they’re getting paid $80,000 a year and the joke’s on you for working your corporate fuck job for half that and that’s why they smile so much. No matter, just give me that Black Mountain red wine that has hints of cherry and chocolate and I’ll be content.