An Afternoon Jaunt to Whole Foods Market

An Afternoon Jaunt to Whole Foods … a Docudrama

Lotsa pictures. May load slowly. Have patience. It's a virtue.
Once upon a hangover, Miss Aria rang up the Marquis to ask if he needed anything from Whole Foods market. “Yes,” replied the broken boy, “take me with you. I have not been to the new Arabella Station location. I have a hankerin'.” Nalcée was not otherwise occupied, and despite his temporary depleted funds, he decided to join this mad possee.

Once upon a hangover, Miss Aria rang up the Marquis to ask if he needed anything from Whole Foods market. “Yes,” replied the broken boy, “take me with you. I have not been to the new Arabella Station location. I have a hankerin'.” Nalcée was not otherwise occupied, and despite his temporary depleted funds, he decided to join this mad possee.

The hapless shoppers piled into Miss Aria's Ford truck, “Emma,” who is protected from thieves of cars and fuckers of radios by an entire deer leg decomposing on the dashboard. You will recall this is New Orleans — voodoo works like that. “Emma” is a curious truck. It has manual transmission and a clutch, though the gear shift is on the steering column. Aria calls it, “THREE ON A TREE!” Yeee-haw!

The journey was a scenic one. Magazine Street is no good for driving, so we decided to take Tchoupitoulas. En route, one must pass the local corner neighborhood crack store. So we did our own kind of “Drive By!” Look out, suckaz! My favorite part is the baby pram.

While others were quite established as historic places to get drunk.

Finally, Nalcée, feeling threatened by the deer corpse directly in front of him, asked if he could touch it. “I mean, like, is it sanitary, n stuff?” Let's hope so!

The ramshackle old Arabella Station had been converted into a snazzy-pooh new über-chic emporium-o-rama like you might find in the burbs of Washington, D.C. or San Francisco or some place like that. Scary.

No, really, last time I went by Arabella Station, it was a burnt-out shell of a crap building. Now there are endless polished hallways with tidy little tables and well-groomed white women pushing baby carts…

…like this one. The cart is actualy attached to the little car. It's difficult to kick the children when they're ensconced in these fortresses of protective plastic.

All I needed from the grocery store today was an onion. One single white onion. That's really all I required. Soon, Aria and I had a basket brimming with pretty much nothing but “impulse items.” Framboise and ginger beer and milk thistle pills and boxes and boxes of exotic teas and arnica gel and fancy-schmancy toothpaste and, and, and, and, and…

…hey brother, can you spare a dime? Thuh End!

What's interesting about looking at someone's old grocery receipt? Well, thanks to the magic of the internet you can hover your mouse over each item for a super secret special message — a weak explanation or justification for all the crap I bought.

This will only work using IE, however. Too bad. I really prefer Netscape myself, but that function isn't enabled on Netscape. (Fuckers.)