Supermarket Faceoff

I do not enjoy shopping for food.   As far as domestic chores go, I would rather clean a toilet.

I can handle Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s but something called SAFEway gives me pause.    Why do I need to be convinced that the food they sell is safe?  Of course, this makes me think it isn’t.

And another thing:  I have become paranoid about touching the handles of those nasty metal carts.  Not to mention the fact that somebody ALWAYS leaves some sort of questionable “something” in the bottom of the cart.  Crumpled wrappers, empty cups of god knows what.  One time I found a diaper.  A DIAPER!

Who does that??

Um….probably the same people who leave them in fast-food parking lots side a disgusting pile of cigarette butts from their emptied ashtray?? There’s nothing like the sweet smell of baby shit mixed with a smoldering pile of unfiltered Camels to brighten your day, right?

But I digress as I so often do.

Here’s the real question:  why the hell is it necessary to have those crazy, brightly colored  plastic “kid carts” the size of a Zamboni?  You know what I mean.  Those ridiculous plastic behemoths the kids gets shoved in  so they don’t scream bloody murder when mom (or the nanny if you happen to be in Malibu) snatches the Volkswagon-sized box of Lucky Charms from Junior’s vice grip??

Now, I like kids as much as the next guy but there has to be some balance here.  What happened to being satisfied with those adorable pint-sized metal carts that the kids could fill up and slam into the shins of other shoppers?  Wasn’t that good enough?

If supermarkets are going to force me to endure 3 year olds on ice rink equipment, the least they can do is provide some basic adult necessities like LED flat screens playing endless re-runs of Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

For the record, I am a rabid supporter of  Whole Foods.  They do not condone the use of Zamboni machines in their stores.  I do most of my food shopping there when my friends start using words like “scurvy” to scare me into replenishing my cupboards.