Central Ass Whip

Ever since the economy fell in the shitter I've had to avoid malls at all costs and bid adieu to my beloved web sites Revolve Clothing and Shop Bop. I occasionally still allow a few JCrew purchases because after all, those are the basics and I am still a working girl. For the most part however I get my 'shopping high' from the grocery store. In north Dallas there are a ton to choose from, one particular store sends monthly coupons that generally equal a value of $10 dollars for each coupon. This, along with a lot of hard to find foodie items, continues to lure me back in to this Mecca of overpriced grocery hell. 

God forbid I go there hungry. I end up with things like ready made pizza dough from New York, Truffle Honey, and a giant log of Pinot Grigio Salami. Items like this are an example of why Jenny Craig could never be an option for me. Today I was actually proud of myself for putting back a frozen deep dish pizza from Chicago: the 450 calories per serving combined with the $12 cost for a frozen pizza brought me back to rational grocery shopping reality

It never fails, at Central Ass whip you have to pick a number and wait for your fish and meat which inevitably takes forever. A pound of halibut requested usually ends up being a little over two. "No really, the one pound at 24 dollars for just my husband and I is plenty." After the fish cluster fuck I head to the deli meat section and I may as well be in line for U2 tickets because watching paint dry is faster than getting some friggen Havarti and Turkey

Central Ass Whip is laid out so that you have no choice but to go through the entire store before reaching the check-out counter. I'm pretty sure that every person working the 17 different check out lines is on Thorazine, so I literally size all of them up to see who might bag the fastest. Unfortunately everyone is more like Napoleon Dynamite than the next so I take a long breath and prepare to wait.

My cashier is excruciatingly slow. I have visions of showing how to bag faster and exploding flour all over her register area. I am however thankful for the line I chose, as the line next to me has a  woman who just realized she forgot to get her free shrimp for which she has a coupon.  She makes a mad dash back to the seafood counter leaving all her shit with the cashier and two people waiting behind her. My cashier is so slow there is actually enough time for me to see the woman return, half-ass apologize to the people behind her and then proceed to write a frigging check. Seriously, why do people still write checks at grocery stores? My mouth Is
in full fly catching mode at this point.

My three bags of groceries total $120. Once home I immediately pour myself a glass of win, because rather than my day at work or the torrential downpour I drove in all day, it is instead Central Ass Whip that has thrown me into a tizzy.

-Parker