Welcome to the "Real" OC

Before going over to visit my mom at the hospital this afternoon/evening (apparently she has the nastiest old harpy for a new roommate - stories to follow), before getting drive-thru dinner from Carl's Jr., and before watching Battlestar while slunk down deep in the sofa - all fat and sassy from my Western Bacon Cheeseburger - complete with dog at my side, I had to go to the store today.

We were totally out of dry dog food, and have decided we cannot live any longer without a new Swiffer/Clorox-WetJet-Moppy thing (you know what I mean, of course). So, my dad and I scooted on over to the local Albertson's - we've all decided to make Ralph's our "usual" store (there is a truly nice one not too far from the house with all the trimmings and next to no hype - we discovered it on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving while trying to find a store with a parking place left), but Albertson's is literally around the corner and sometimes it's just too convenient to pass up. So off we went. Now, for the record - and to paint a more vivid picture for you - please allow me to explain that our nearest Albertson's is a veritable Mecca for the Bichon owning, twin-set wearing, 'I can't walk four feet without needing a fresh Macchiato', 'Even my sweats are designer' crowd that I lovingly refer to as 'yuppies'. I know, technically they're not yuppies, but without stretching into the terrain of borrowing from the British usage of such glorious words as 'twat' and 'wanker', I really don't know what else to call them. BTW - I have nothing against Bichons the occasional macchiato, or a yummy twin-set (especially if it comes in cashmere, and someone else paid for it) - though I do draw the line at designer sweats - I mean, please people.

Our Albertson's has a giant deli, not to be confused with the entirely separate bakery (home of daily fresh baked artisan loaves - or so the signs say), a fromagerie, well-stocked seafood and meat departments, a built in pharmacy (a deal with Sav-on who've now been bought out by CVS, so there's a whole emotional transition period reflected in the half-changed signage) a credit union, a tobacco shop, a florist (and I'm not talking about those little stands of cut flowers some stores have by the door), and last, but never least, a Starbuck's kiosk (because you cannot be expected to walk/drive the 200 yards to the Starbucks located in the shopping center proper). It is, in other words, a monument to the OC idea of what an entire Paris block must be like, but without the charm.

Anyway, the parking lot is ALWAYS crowded to capacity with the standard issue uptight-OC-housewife vehicle, The Range Rover, with a few BMW's and sporty-raging-mid-life-crisis-cars. And EVERYONE is ALWAYS talking on their cellphones. I mean, it's a wonder they even have voices left. I know, I know - I'm probably the last person alive who tries to find a place to pull over if my phone rings while I'm driving (notice I said, TRIES - no one is perfect, and traffic is a bitch), and I seem to be the only one who feels compelled not to take up the mid-section of the isle while I stand there aimlessly talking to people I couldn't manage to talk into coming to the store with me, yet strangely cannot live without speaking to on a constant basis. And what kills me most is that these conversations are long-winded, and far-reaching, and have NOTHING to do with the task at hand. I guess I'm strange, but when I make a call from the store, it's usually to seek clarification on what I'm supposed to buy.

So, after successfully navigating the zombie-like hordes, we reached the checkout (where the savage beast in all of is soothed by 19inch LCD panels blaring "CheckoutTV", because we cannot be without constant audio-visual stimulation, for fear we might manage a coherent thought, I guess). But over and above the din of multiple TV panels, the constant beeping of the scanners, and the chatter of countless people - speaking either to other people or telephonic phantoms - I overheard half of a conversation so funny, I litterally had to bite my tongue at one point to keep from laughing. Here, ladies and gentlemen, is a make-shift transcript of the audible half of the phone call of the 20-something behind me in line, bless her heart:

Well, ya know, like, I think that like, a Starbucks giftcard would be like a really good gift, cuz like Andrea really like likes Starbucks, but she can't like afford it, ya know? And (insert forgotten man's name here) really likes it too - so I think that would, like be like a good thing to like get them, ya know? Cuz, like Andrea really likes it, she just can't like afford to like go there like really like often. [brief pause for inhalation] OMG- did I tell you what I did last week? OMG!! I went to this place, like this like spa place. OMG!! It was like amazing, I swear to God, OMG!! They exfoliated like EVERYTHING, with this like loofah thingy, OMG - and there were like these like wraps, and masks, and like stuff. OMG, it was amazing!! I've never felt like so pampered in like my whole life - I like felt like such a WOMAN! OMG - it was like great - you should totally go, really!

At that point we completed our transaction and I bit my tongue long enough to get out the doors before bursting into a full-on snort and cackle fest. It was great!!! As I said to my dad (who missed the whole thing and had to be filled in) I love going to the store, people are so much fun!


b. said...

Fine, Fine Form Lu!! I just love
Albertson's anyway.....but in the OC!HA! It's a good thing I wasn't in line with you or I woulda blown diet pepsi out my nose trying to hold it in!!

LuluBunny said...

ah b. you crack me up - I love the mental image of you spewing diet pepsi all over the poor girl - I would pay to see that!:)

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