Where does the good go

Only in New York

So, if Karol enables my severe poker habit, Fisch enables the insomnia.
To wit, he has now introduced me to a full, functional grocery store that is open 24 hours.
That’s right. Meat department, produce, dairy, pastas, deli! You name it, they have it…even though it’s FOUR IN THE MORNING.
Of course, I was all “no way!”
And he was all “way!”
And then I was all “No way. I’ll bet you a dollar!”
And he was all “way! I’ll bet you 82 dollars.”
And then I was all…”ok, I believe you, let’s go!”
It’s a strange, strange thing to go grocery shopping with friends.
For instance, my friend Pi is very methodical about things. She assigns vectors of the store to each of the people in her shopping party. There are precise lists which include notations like “peppers: yellow and red only.”
Karol, on the other hand, haphazardly weaves her way from aisle to aisle, often getting stumped in front of the ice cream freezer as she decides which one she wants, only to end up settling on marshmallow cake. I know! WHAAA?
She then gets to the register and discovers she has no money.
This incident lead to the creation of the “Supermarket Olympics” during which she failed to qualify and was summarily ostracized from society.
Kaz and I share a propensity to overbuy everything and ended up buying foodstuffs for 80 when we planning a party for 20. However, she is a sucker for packaging, as opposed to my being a sucker for marketing. Thus, we’d have conversations like: Kaz: “ooh, I like this vintage yellowed paper label on the sauce” Me: But how about Ragu! That’s Italian!”
And Fisch? Well, let’s just say he won’t be representing our country in the Supermarket Olympics anytime soon.
We get to the store, I immediately head for the grapefruits, tis the season, you know!
I also get some pre-made salads, meats, vegetables, pasta and juices.
We have been in the store for twenty minutes.
I spot Fischel riding the back of his cart down aisle eight.
In his cart he has: shampoo.
“Guy! What is wrong with you?”
“Oh, wow. You have food!”
He is curious and amazed.
“Yes, dude! Wasn’t that the goal?”
“Uh…yes…ok…going…umm…where’s the frozen food section?”
We wind our way through the almost completely empty store (seriously, people –pre dawn grocery shopping! I cannot recommend it enough!) and find the frozen food section.
He then buys like four hundred boxes of frozen TV dinners.
“Ok. I’m done….no wait! I need Ensure!”
“Ensure? What the hell? Are you a 72 year old woman with osteoporisis?”
“No, it’s not just for old people! It’s nutrious!”
Insert eyeroll and laughter.
I figure that since I’m here, I might as well buy the shopping cart I’ve been meaning to get, so I can stop sheepishly borrowing the bellmen’s suitcase cart.
“Well, now who’s a 72-year-old woman! Are you actually going to buy one of those?”
Shut it.
Fisch then spies the chocolate puddings.
“Hey, which one of these should I get?”
“ooh…definitely the Jell-O! Bill Cosby says so!” (Did I mention being a sucker for commercials?)
Done and done.
Refusing to be seen with the shopping cart, he carried everything back upstairs to my apartment and I stuck all the perishables in the fridge before dropping him and his frozen dinners home.
“I cannot believe you eat that crap.”
“They are great! I eat more now than ever before!” He was sooo happy.
The next morning, my mom’s friend said that she would pack away the rest of groceries for me.
There, on the counter, sat the eggs that I had bought that morning.
It was now ten a.m.
Oh no!
Unrefrigerated for six hours…did they hatch?
I scared.
She put them in the refrigerator. But I still haven’t touched them.
Avian Flu, you know.
Anyway, quite randomly Fisch calls me yesterday in a panicked tone.
“Dawn…so….I dunno, when I left the house yesterday, I must have somehow opened the refrigerator without noticing…”
Uh oh…
“…and it stayed that way for the whole day and when I came back all the dinners were melted…do you think I can still eat them?”
I do not laugh. I want to.
“Umm…I dunno…are they totally like dripping?” I imagine frozen food to exist only in a state of suspended animation, which, once unmelted, causes it to cease to be food at all. Like when the wicked witch of the West meets water.
“Yeah…but it was still cold to the touch.”
Now. I laugh.
“Well, then it’s…um…fine?!”
“So I can eat it?”
“Uh…yeah…I think so.”*
I mean, what could I say? What could I say? All he has left is Ensure and shampoo, for goodness sakes!
So he ate them.
He continues to eat them
I continue to laugh.
But seriously, don’t tell him about the eggs.

*(Dawn Summers is not a doctor. She doesn’t know anything about anything. All opinions and advice herein is for entertainment purposes only.)

10 Responses to “Only in New York”

  1. Fisch Says:

    Haha haven’t laughed like that in a while. I’m talking about when you bought that old woman’s cart, not just now.

  2. Fisch Says:

    And I could have sworn that we put your eggs away that night, right after we went shopping. I know I handed them to you, didn’t I?

    But yea, that was fun. We must do it again.

    (my stomach feels fine and my hair shines)

  3. Ari Says:

    Wow – so… two less players Wednesday night, huh?

  4. Dawn Summers Says:

    hahahah…oh I didn’t eat the eggs!

  5. Fisch Says:


  6. Dawn Summers Says:

    dude, cut it out. It’s all fun and games till I only have five players for the poker game. :)

  7. Ari Says:

    yeah Fisch, if she can’t win your money what’s her motivation for living?

  8. Fisch Says:

    your money

  9. F-Train Says:


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