I feel dirty. Oh so dirty...
I feel dirty.
No, not the feeling you get when you wake up in a pool of your own vomit on a Saturday morning surrounded by three slumbering Asian midgets wearing clown outfits with Duran Duran playing in the background. Not that kind of dirty.
This kind of dirty is a little worse.
It’s the kind of dirty when you realize you’ve done something that goes against everything you ever thought you stood for. It’s the kind of dirty that makes you throw your hands up in the air and give up.
I ordered groceries from Peapod today.
Peapod is a home delivery service for groceries. They deliver groceries to your door. They make it so that you don’t have to walk or drive to the grocery store.
Now, you may be saying to yourself, “El Guapo, give yourself a break. People get busy sometimes and need these little luxuries to make their life easier.”
Oh yes? Is that what you think? Well, it would be all fine and dandy if I were busy, but I’m not. Trust me, I have all the time in the world to take my beautiful Guatemalan ass down to the local grocery store and all the time in the world to bring it back with an abundance of food and treats. Frankly, I have become lazy. I mean, I have TIVO now and Dog the Bounty Hunter is on, bueno, pretty much all day.
The last time I was in the grocery store, in the Express Lane, there was a man in front of me who wrote a check for $1.19. He took his time writing out the check, explaining that the address on his driver’s license wasn’t correct and then entering the $1.19 in his check register. Oh, he even turned around and asked me if I had a calculator watch. I’m Guatemalan, bitch, I don’t wear calculator watches.
Later that evening I sat outside mi casa and watched my new neighbor (who sometimes forgets to take off his pointy costume ears) have groceries delivered to his door. What a lazy bastard, I thought to myself. Then, about 5 minutes later, I decided that if Mr. Forgets his pointy ears can have groceries delivered then so could I.
I did it. It was easy. Giant had all of my past purchases right up on the screen because I use their Giant card. I clicked, I browsed, I bought. Ten minutes and I was done. I know I feel dirty. I feel lazy. Will I be wearing pointy ears someday? No. Why would a grown man wear pointy ears anyway?
I will, however, tell you that my online shopping experience wasn’t flawless. You see, it seems that the good people at the Giant grocery corporation aren’t really marketing this product to my fellow Latinos. Why do I know this? Because when I typed in “Goya” into the search field I received 9 hits. Nine hits? For Goya? Seven different cans of beans, pear juice and guava juice? Where the fuck is my flan Giant? Don’t you gringos like flan? Seriously, what the hell is going on with this.
It looks like El Guapo will have to take his lazy but beautiful Guatemalan ass back to the store if he wants to enjoy some of mother nature's finest Goya flan. I swear… The man is out to get me.