grocery shopping woes

I have been getting ready to go to the grocery store now for the better part of two hours. You may be thinking "why are you getting all dressed up and taking so much time simply to go to the grocery store"? Truth be told, I am not getting dressed up. I do not even have make-up on. I have been sitting in my underwear, flipping through my ipod, blasting at unreasonably high volumes such classic favorites as Tears for Fears and Tiffany while mustering up the mental will-how to get my ass to the Rewe. Grocery shopping just isn't fun anymore.

Some people view grocery shopping as a horrible, horrible chore that must be completed; I mean, we all need food, yeah? And those crazy feminists are probably thinking the grocery store is just an extension of the domestic sphere: a tool of a dominant patriarchal ideology constructed to keep women in their place. Maybe they are right. I mean, when was the last time you saw a commercial with a dude super excited about going to buy broccoli and cous cous at Albertsons?

I digress. Feminist or no, I love going grocery shopping. I love walking into Winco or Costco or Trader Joes or what have you and just smelling the awesomeness that is an organized, adventure-filled food warehouse. And I like the consistency. No matter what Winco you happen to waltz into, you can count on the fact that everything has some semblance of organization. If the toilet paper and paper plates are near the ice cream and frozen yogurt in one Winco, chances are good that going to a different Winco will produce the same result. I like that. It is knowing that something will never change that gives me peace of mind in this otherwise chaotic and clusterfuck existence that I call life.

Grocery shopping in Germany, however, is not as fun. My heart does not swell with the thought of purchasing my weeks meals, a mid-morning snack, late night munchies. No, my heart sinks to my butt when I think about having to make the trek to the Rewe or the Netto or, God forbid I muster up the courage to go to Globus, simply to purchase my groceries. I now view grocery shopping as a necessary evil--if I do not go shopping, I am forced to order food in, and while this is okay once in a while, I am pretty sure my muffin-top would like a break.

I cannot figure out what it is about German grocery stores that makes me want to swing my cart around violently and run over hoards of people. Oh wait, that is assuming I can even get a cart. I have decided that the pressure of having to "rent" a cart is more than I can handle, and have committed to only getting the amount of groceries that will fit into the red basket (and for you Europeans, I am not talking about that fucking red basket that has wheels that you can drag behind you. You look like a tool with those things, and it is equally aggravating when it runs into me. I want to kick your sausage and sauerkraut right out of it). I think I am so apprehensive towards German grocery stores simply because they are GERMAN grocery stores. It is not a Winco, it is not a Costco; I am constantly searching for things, for brand names that are somewhat familiar, only to be met by their evil German counterpart (i.e. Mr. Clean is in fact Meister Proper. Shit like that just does not have the same ring).

And I miss Costco. Oh how I miss Costco. Excessive or no, I like being able to purchase my 60" flat-screen television, 300 rolls of toilet paper, a cat bed and a rotisserie chicken all in one location. I went to Costco over Christmas break and wanted to get down on the floor and kiss it. It is the little things.

Anyway, random blog, I know, but I had this conversation with another friend of mine from America, and her sentiments are the same. I am thinking when I get back to Boise, I am going to have a party at Winco on Myrtle. Please RSVP if you can come.