I get utterly disgusted by the food that people buy. Sugar-laden, neon-colored cereal; dehydrated instant potato flakes; tiny-portioned, bland TV dinners to name just a few. Don’t people know how to cook? Don’t they know the joy of a hot, freshly baked potato with butter and sour cream? Do they realize you could steam some veggies just as fast as you could microwave water? No, they don’t.

The ignorant people who patronize Big Box Mart say things like, “I don’t want to buy this package of chicken. It has blood in it.” Um, duh, chickens are animals and animals contain blood. “This watermelon has a funny yellow spot on it. I don’t want it.” That would be the spot where the melon lay in the dirt as it grew, you idiot. People no longer understand how things grow or how an item gets from farm (or factory) to store.

To celebrate the evils of modern “food”, I have decided to make my own (better) slogans for foods I despise.

“Lunchables: Because Your Mom Doesn’t Love You Enough to Pack You a Real Lunch”

“Pediasure: Making Sure That Children Learn to Like Chocolate More Than Fruits and Vegetables Since 1992″

“Fizzix: Because Your Children Aren’t Rotting Their Teeth Fast Enough”

“Refrigerated Cookie Dough: When You Don’t Give a Crap if it’s Homemade or Not” (One brand of dry “just add oil/egg” cookie mix, says “Homemade in just 10 minutes”. Um, no.)

“Banquet TV Dinners: Letting You Know That Mom Could Care Less About You (And More About Her Martini) Since 1952″

“Kraft Easy Mac: Because Mom’s too Busy Smoking Weed to Boil Water”

“Uncrustables: Because Assembling a PB&J Takes Time Away from Tweeting”

“Uncrustables: Now In ‘Grilled Cheez-Like Food Product Flavor!’ Because Making A Grilled Cheese Sandwich is Hard

!”

A woman at work (late twenty-something, pregnant with her third child) does not know how to cook. At all. When her toddler requests a grilled cheese sandwich, she toasts two pieces of  bread, slaps a piece of cheese-food in between them and nukes until the cheese melts.

The above products are made for people like that.

It’s called and it’s chockful of sarcastic cartoons. Like this:

Yeah, baby! Glow-in-the-dark chicks unite! (It will be easy to find one another.)

When you’re not arguing with them?

Yesterday. a woman came through the check-your-own-damn-self-out. She bought a box of Special K cereal and scanned a 25¢ off coupon. I walked out to verify the coupon and take it back to the podium where it’s filed in a zippered bag.

I nicely said, “I’ll take your coupon.”

She shrieked, “It’s a valid coupon! It doesn’t have an expiration date!”

“Okay”, I replied. “I’ll take your coupon.”

“It took it off. It’s a valid coupon.”

I pointed to the sign that said “please ask for assistance with coupons”. “Okay. I’ll take your coupon.”

“Where do I put the coupon? It’s good! It took it off!”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, woman! I’m not arguing with you. You are arguing with yourself. Give me the goddamned coupon and piss off!

When she finally relented and handed me the coupon, I saw why she was so worked up. It was a 25¢ off coupon clipped from a magazine. The ad on the back (dog food?) was copyright 1985. So she either clipped this out of a old mag or, more likely, bought the coupon on eBay and was feeling guilty or feared being busted for coupon fraud.

But there was no fraud. The truth was what she kept screaming: “It’s a valid coupon!” It was valid, she just had a guilty conscience.

I cannot go to a so-called dollar store without spending ten or twenty bucks. And now that I am constantly on the search for bento accessories, this place is my new nemesis.

The Strawberry Shortcake containers were each a dollar. The crescent shape is a silicone baking mold, but will make an excellent divider in a bento box. The monkey and tiger cups are from the infants section and were 2 for $1.00. They came with a spoon and will be perfect for yogurt or fruit.

(Not pictured: nacho cheese, “cheetos”, and TGIF potato skins. Nothing like cheap, unhealthy junk food.)

As we were standing in line, I remarked, “I just negated all the money I saved at Kroger!”

It was a busy college football gameday. All the idiots were out, trying to buy more beer than the state limit allows. I had only been working for a half hour when I was sent to the “check-your-own-damn-self-out” to cover a lunch break.

One of my first customers was an late 60-ish woman on a motorized scooter. She glared at me as she scanned her items and got visibly angry when the computerized voice told her to “please place the item in the bagging area. “What is her problem?” I thought. “If she doesn’t like these things, she should go to a register!”

She paid by check so I had to interact with her at the attendant station. She said something while wildly gesturing towards the ceiling. I thought I had misheard her. I  wanted to have misheard her. I asked her to repeat herself.

“Does this place use TV to persecute people?”

No, I had heard her correctly. And the theme of the day is “batshit crazy”.

By the way, you crazy bitch, it’s called surveillance

and you mean prosecute!