The American grocery store. Home of club card tilapia, year-long supplies of strawberries, and of course, the salad bar complete with hard boiled eggs and blue cheese crumbles. After picking up our family-size trays of steamed shrimp, finish-in-three-bite sandwiches, and shipped-from-Chile mixed fruit arrangement, Jaime Sawyers and I witnessed this beauty: The I-Wanted-A-Specific-Kind-Of-Salad-So-Much-That-I-Worked-To-Put-It-Together-Myself-But-Fuck-It-I-Changed-My-Mind-I'm-Putting-It-Wherever Salad. Dear, sweet, suburban, grocery store goer, just leave that incredibly perishable item that can't be re-sold wherever. Oh yeah, and while you're at it don't forget your 50 piece box of frozen jalepeno popppers that you know you're going to eat for lunch instead.
holy cow, what is the pink stuff all the way to the left in the box? salmon? pickled ginger?
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