When we bought a house, A. told me I should stop shopping at Whole Foods. You know, buying a coconut, yogurt and vitamins for $100 and stuff. I thought I wouldn't survive. Yet I did manage somehow, thanks to democratic Trader Joe's and Super A and Super King, both really super in their own weird ways. But yesterday I couldn't resist the siren song of Whole Paycheck. And fuck. It's the second time I ended up with moldy bread. And the organic fruit crushers Milan loves are waaaay sweeter than their non-organic brethren at TJ's. It's really not all that it's cracked up to be, Whole Foods.
No comments:
Post a Comment