After I complained that it's impossible to date, as I never meet anyone, a friend of mine suggested (after "try running somewhere where there's more people than deer and slowing down a bit") that I try the grocery store.
-How quaint. Women who eat. Worth a try...
I went to the local market and wondered just how one is supposed to do this. I looked for the signs of someone available - a shopping cart full of Haagen-Dazs and Kleenex seemed the thing - but this was ridiculous. I mean, how do you start a conversation in a grocery store?
- Nice melons! (slap)
I tried the "pathetic guy, lost and searching" ploy, as it comes naturally. I was digging through piles of meat, waiting for someone to ask if they could help me find something.
-Yeah, I'm looking for the sinew of the inside of the thigh. I was reading Leviticus, and it's specifically forbidden. I figure: if Jews can't eat bacon or lobster and those are freakin' delicious, this sinew thingie has to be great, right? Of course, there's this whole thing about men greeting each other by "placing their hands beneath their thighs" which turns out to be a euphemism for "grabbing their package," so the Old Testament appears to have happened in Brooklyn, and that might mean that this sinew is really...
Back to the produce.
- Have you ever tried carambola? I have a recipe for a tartlet that uses it and... I'm coming off way too metrosexual for a guy who hasn't shaved this week.
Frozen foods... woman with 15 boxes of TV dinners and a box of wine. Hmmm.
Next, woman with cart containing Activia, Beano, Lact-Aid and a 24-pack of toilet tissue. She seems a little preoccupied.
Man, I can't wait to be able to run again and have something real to write. I'm betting you feel the same!
Aid Station: Eugene Curnow
2 days ago