Sometimes you HAVE to go to Ingles, you know? Like, there’s no food in the house, you’re getting paid tomorrow so there’s not quite $40 in your checking account, but you need money to go see Catie Curtis and you have to eat. You HAVE to go to Ingles. Or whatever local grocery merchant gracefully allows you to extract $25 from your checking account with purchase of cheapass chorizo, manager’s special spinach, and cheese. Tonight was that night for me.
Unfortunately, it is supposed to “snow” tonight. It is more likely that Columbian coke dealers will blast into town and blow up every grocery store in the city limits than that we will get enough snow to make said grocery stores inaccessible. And yet. Every fucking asshole in Westville was at the Ingles on Haywood tonight. Luckily, I was born with a full picanic basket, so I checked out in the Deli, but those other poor fuckers are still in line while I eat my quesadillas. . .
