Continuing on this odd consumption-oriented kick I’ve been on, Trader Joes moved out of their old location and into a new one two blocks away. And it is way better. Truly, seriously an improvement. Trust me when I tell you that even though I’ve not been closer than 100′ from the new location. Because the old location sucked eggs bigtime. It was cramped way beyond cat-swinging range. That many Joe’s shoppers packed that tightly just radiate bad mojo, and I feel it and it makes me want to go outside and sit on the curb and sulk, alone with the package of tamales that I managed to snag, holding it, realizing that I hadn’t paid and that I really really don’t want to wait in that line and do I really want the tamales that bad when I can go get cheaper better ones at Taqueria Don Pancho and so I drift into a pit of nihilistic despair I don’t care about the tamales or the lines or that I’m on Sandy Blvd on my knees beating the paved earth grinding the chicken tamales into my forehead yelling wishing (but not caring!) hearing some bad beats mixed with that weirdass happy Trader Joe’s music.
And the angels dropped from the heavens and delivered a new Trader Joes and the people rejoiced and bought stuff.