Bizarro ----way

One of my reasons for doing this blog (and I have to come up with a better term for it, since to me a "blog" sounds like an intestinal dysfunction) is to archive the various attrocities that take place at our friendly neighborhood grocery store -- which is neither friendly nor, in the true sense of the word, a neighborhood place.

Let me explain. The people who shop there aren't from our neighborhood -- or any neighborhood on this side of the culture gap. And the, uh...amenities offered by this particular store doesn't exactly prompt people to say, "Honey? Let's hop in the car and drive across town in bumper-to-bumper traffic to get a gallon of milk." Which is good, because on the average day, they'll be completely out of milk. Or all meat. Or, say, all canned items with a picture of a tomato on them.

Between the grocery store's lack of... well, food, and the bizarre clientele (we joke that there must be a portal leading directly to some East Baltimore neighborhood), it's a pretty singular experience. We've taken to calling it Bizarro S---way ("ungh! Me no want food! Me go shopping!") and view our regular trips there as a sort of performance art. I'll start sharing stories soon.

Consider yourselves warned, especially if you're faint of heart -- or stomach.