Good things in the box

So Kari and I are at trader Joe’s. To yous that don’t live in New York City, you can’t understand what a mission it is. I found a Trader Joe's when I used to have the Frog (car/jetta/happy little thing) and drive people to the airport. But Blue Laws don’t allow groceries in NY state to sell wine, so what is the point? That cream cheese/pesto/sundriedtomato thingy was amusing when I was 19, but now, in poverty years, TJs is all about 2buckChuck. And when Ande and Steph found TJs by the Elizabeth airport, whenever I went to see them in LBI I would stop there on the way home. Just like the drinking helps me be a better actor (and a worse friend) it helps me write (not so pretentious) so I bribed Kari (and her tuff truck) to take me there by taking care of Lucy (the coolest yet craziest dog (oh shit is Luce just like me and Kari and most of my friends? Crazy—not like a fox, but like a person who already gets it before it happens) because she’s like an idiot savant—she can catch a bottle cap from the ground and be happy to do it forever but will never put her head in your lap when you’re sad.) And made her take me on a road trip to Trader Joe’s.
It’s in New Jersey, someplace called Westwood or Westwind or WestHampton or Westfield mall or someplace that says “west” but doesn’t mean west at all.

And Kari and I, who like pretentious food, not just because it’s pretentious, because we like pizza and mac and cheese too, but because it’s good and good for you, mention the Kashi.
Kari: I refuse to buy that shit. I can’t stand the box.
“Kari, it’s okay. Even though you're black and I’m white and we both look, on the box of cereal, that we have been life-partners, we’re not, were open to friendships against the grain.
Trader Joe’s Almost Cute With Beard (but short and TJs Hawaiian shirt stealing masculinity from him) what are you saying? (grin? Hope? Indie rock chicks braless in sweats? How did they end up in Wainfleet NJ?)
“just laughing about the PC UnForwardness of Just Friends Cereal.”
Kari: “like they can tototally hang out, but, it’s never more than friends.”
TJ hopefull: “No, It’s GOOD FRIENDS.”
(shows box. Salt and peppa older lady with English-teacher-like-black-man)
I laugh sheepishly for getting it wrong. Kari laughs out loud.
“Good Friends.” Nods. “That’s what you say when you fuck but you’re unwilling to say you’re involved.”

So like I come to be Nanny Anne to Lucy—and what does Kari have? The Vandyke (Ava that is homage to you) version: Good Friends: the gay woman version. All those health freaks in Ohio (0r like my Mom who chooses not to notice that some of her (amazing brilliant smart cool as shit) friends are most likely lesbians) think it’s okay, this tuff black chick and tuff white chick are “Good Friends.” And there are octagonal eatables full of fiber in the box.
Hot white women and hot black women are “good friends” with good things in the box