I'm trying to eat my delicious Ines Rosales tortas and Tallulah is on her hind legs, being two legs bad, trying to get it. Talu's beggy look. I'm certainly falling for it, too, you manipulative ass. Yes, it's perfectly fine to call your dog an ass. It's in all the best training manuals. Cesar has one just called: Your Dog is a King Kamehameha Ass. Haven't you read it?
Have you had the Ines Rosales torta? Is "torta" the plural of "tortas"? Cannot wait for first know-it-all to tell me smugly, "No, Jooob, the singular of tortas is xyepphrelt. God."
"Jooob." Dying. Nice typing. My keyboard is an ass.
Anyway, I know it sounds like Ines Rosales paid me to mention them today in between things that make little sense, but sadly they did not remotely do any such thing.
"How's the no-sugar diet going, June?" Oh, shut up.
The reason I own any Ines Rosales tortas--and man, at this point I'd have earned $11,000 or something if they'd offered me cash per mention--is because Ned and I went to the newest pretentious co-op vegan-ish look-what-the-white-people-have-built-now grocery store in his neighborhood, and luckily for me, near my work.
I know we really know how to live it up, going to a grocery store and all, but I had work to do this weekend and welcomed any diversion. Oooo, buying vegan Tide and organic cat litter? Sign me up!
Speaking of cat litter, I love this photo of Ned throwing blossoms on me, holding a bag of NedKitty poo. We were on our way to his Dumpster. Did you know "Dumpster" is a proper noun? Welcome to my pool of knowledge.
At Ned's apartment, they inexplicably have special trash cans that read "Dispose of Kitty Litter Here," which I took a photo of before but do you really think I have time to find it in the 9 million pictures I have so organizedly arranged on my computer? Anyway the good news is that is the photo that pops up whenever my pal Hulk calls. I always forget I put it there to represent Hulk, then the phone rings and I giggle. Hulk adores him the cats.
I really don't understand people who don't like cats. And I always like them a little less than I would otherwise. If you don't like cats I kind of write you off as kind of needy and simple. I am sorry. But I do. Obviously I can work up a like of you otherwise. See: Hulk. Who I don't think of as needy and simple, just kind of a dick.
At any rate, the healthy, pretentious, overpriced ($21 for almond butter!) new co-op was pretty interesting. "Every white liberal in Greensboro is gonna be here," I said when we pulled in and two black people were walking out, making me look like an idiot and THANKS, BLACK PEOPLE. Am certain they were still pot-smoking, loom-owning, NPR-listening hippies.
We got out of Ned's car, where he had been listening to NPR on the radio, and sauntered in. And it's a good thing we did, because people who go to the vegan pretentious hoity-toity patchouli-wearing new food co-cop? Were not what you'd call in a rush. Holy cats. You have never seen so much milling and standing stock still to enjoy the organic vitamins in your fucking life. Seriously, it was like they installed dye-free statues in the aisles here and there for decoration.
Now, I hope you're sitting down, but Ned is a little more tolerant of, you know, everybody than I am. "Is it bugging you how people seem to be standing around, here?" I asked him, as I wedged my way past a 100% cotton couple. "Oh my god, YES. It's so fucking annoying!" he said, and I was delighted. Maybe my intolerance is rubbing off on him. Teach Intolerance.
Anyway, he bought one tiny bag of nutritional yeast and I got 16 vegan power bars, the cinnamon tortas, some tamales and fake potato chips. Only June could find ways to buy unhealthy in a fancy left-wing Joni Mitchell health-food parents-from-Valley-Girl-own-it grocery store.
So that's how I'm eating the tortas that Talu wants. Aren't you glad you stuck around for that?
I leave you with photos from a fancy vegan gluten-free hippie white Bye Bye, Pie get-together that occurred this weekend.
I guess other than the cigarettes and wine and whatever Fay is imbibing, back there. From left to right, here is Sadie, PJ, Tee, Fay and Beverly. If you read the comments, you have seen their names 12,000 times.
I don't want ANY MORE OF YOU making fun of my photos, as this one has a BIG LINE in the middle. Do I give you big lines? I do not.
I fricking love candy cigarettes. PJ even flew in for the thing! As you can see, Tee picked her up and fortunately for everyone, no one was a stabby type of person, as far as I know. They sent me all these photos and then I never heard from anyone again. Maybe it ended in a tragic bloodbath, which frankly would really pump my reader numbers, so yay!
Because you are such a drunk, Eds. No one wants to deal with it.
Anyway, that sums up the weekend, except for this:
Okay, that is all. June, organic.