The Diatribe * net

After work yesterday, I had to make a quick run to the supermarket.  Actually, to call it a supermarket is far too complimentary.  This is strictly a grocery store.  A ghetto one, at that.  Nothing super about it, except for the fact that it is home to Quincy’s first Starbucks.  Sure, there is a newer, nicer, bigger second Starbucks a mile away, but the one at the ghetto Star Market will always be the first.  The Starbucks in the Star Market is like a too-good-to-be-true oasis.  You forget where you are until you turn around and instantly feel like you’ve been cast in Good Times.  Dy-no-mite?  Not exactly.

I keep it real and shop at this ghetto grocery store most of the time, but only because it’s right down my street and I’m often too lazy to drive the extra 2.5 miles to the glorious Super (and yes, it is super) Stop & Shop.  Also, the Star Market is adjacent to the Brooks Pharmacy, complete with full beer, wine, and liquor selection and home of the overly tanned, but friendly older cashier I have mentioned before.

Well I thought I was keeping it real by shopping at this blue collar, ghetto grocery store until I met Mr. Mouthwash last night.  As I exited the store and was walking to my car, I saw a middle-aged man in front of me rear back and take a vicious swig of something.  I mean, he nearly gave himself whiplash.  I glanced over at his left hand to see his spirit of choice.  At first, I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but I looked again and sure enough it was Listerine.  Citrus flavored Listerine in that unmistakable bottle.  But, hey, who am I to judge the difference between $5.00 Listerine and $15.00 Schnapps?  Mr. Mouthwash was just keeping it real.