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So I went to Costco today.

The parking lot was packed and there was nary a cart to be had. Inside, as was obvious from the parking lot, the entire populace of Costcoistan roamed the aisles.

Surprisingly, however, the vibe in the store was a good one. The Bakery Ladies were all in good spirits, the supply of Brie was full, and people standing on line for samples were kind and agreeable.

But then I found myself in the Spice & Oils section and ran into a Russian Couple who spoke as much English as a cab driver in New York City. Which is no problem, unless they are trying to speak to me.

Oddly enough, I speak no Russian. Except for Vodka and Borscht. I have always found that to be enough words to get by on.

But whatever.

So they asked me a question - in Russian - and I was a bit dumbfounded. They held up a bottle of Balsamic Vinegar and asked me something that sounded like, "Vischney daught schlenka?"

"I'm Sorry?"

"Vischney daught schlenka???", in total exhasperation.

"I feel terrible here but I don't know what you are asking and I can't help you."

"I am so sorry."

With that they threw up their hands in disgust, said something that I am sure was along the lines of "You stupid fool", and walked away. The man even looked back at me again and rolled his eyes. Which - I don't know if that was prompted by my inability to communicate or the fact that after they walked away I said to myself, "Vischney daught schlenka to you, too" while bobbing my head and raising my eyebrows like a spoiled child.

So cut to later when I was in the Grocery Store. I had just bagged up my organic carrots when an elderly woman said to me, "Well hello, neighbor!" and before I had a chance to tell her that she must have me mistaken for someone else, she went on to ask me about my daughter named Cindy*. And then it suddenly occured to me she thought I was My Evil Twin. She was sweet and instead of trying to correct her and make her feel stupid, I just smiled, said Cindy* was fine, and went about my shopping.

Seriously, I am either going to cut all my hair off and go blonde or I am going to have to move to Russia where clearly no one will know me, nor will they have much patience for me.

So from there I was over in the candy section gathering up Easter "Chock-It" for My Goddaughter, Mary Mayhem, when I got too close to the Easter Basket pyramid and sent 6 of those bad boys to the ground. Thank God nothing broke, but I got stared at and seriously, could my day get worse?

And that's when I found myself back in the safe confines of my car and no - I didn't leave anything on top. But while doing a make-up check in the rearview mirror I found that I had a tiny little crusty booger on the tip of my nose. (DAMN THESE ALLERGIES!)

And I hung my head in despair.

And you people wonder why I drink.

(*Cindy is a ficticious name that I chose because, well, I was thinking about Cindy Brady for some odd reason, and I didn't want to use the girl's real name. Her mother is a 'Ho, the girl has enough stress without being mentioned live on the internet.)

Posted by Foodwhore at March 19, 2005 03:45 PM

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