Well, to make a long story short, it’s a pain and a half to get there for those of us on the Upper West Side, because anything that involves a crosstown bus in Harlem will inevitably take years off your life. Years spent on that bus. Or waiting for that bus. Or waiting to get on that bus. But it is the only game in town as far as bulk groceries, so I do what I have to do. Today, I headed over there primarily to try the new Target but also picked up a few things at the Costco. In the future, when I need something from Target, I’ll be going back to the one in the Bronx which is a direct shot by subway. Target has a temporary shuttle (it goes till 8/22, a month after they opened) to hype the place but it only took me 1/3 of the way across 116th street, whereupon I waited 20 minutes for a bus, which is crazy in New York, sorry.

But while I was there, I checked out the parking lot which was indeed mostly empty while both Target and Costco were quite busy (there are other stores, Best Buy, Marshall’s, Petco…. I don’t know if they’re all open yet as they were on higher floors and I don’t care about any of them). If you’re wondering, Big Box Stores who insisted on the parking garage, how people are shopping, let me describe the following sights which I witnessed today to you:

• The family filling a little red wagon covered in a blanket.
• The lady walking down 117th Street with a ham under her arm.
• The shuttle, chock full of downtown types.
• The woman looking over the average supermarket size carts at Target in wonder, who said to me, “look how huge these are! They really want you to shop, don’t they?” (hint, if your customer is a person who has never seen a regular grocery cart before, she does not have a car.)
• The large family with each member carrying one bag.
• The innumerable little hand carts.

This all leads me to my letter:

Dear Target,

I have a great idea for all those empty parking spots in your big ugly structure! Why not fill them with shuttles which will ferry us sans-automobiles across 116th St. to all our respective subway lines? It can be every 15 or 20 minutes; I realize 116th is crowded as it is. Then, at night, they can have that whole parking garage to themselves.

You may also want to think about selling little red wagons.

xo
Becca

As for you, lady with ham, I’ll see you on the shuttle.

1. USA! USA! (That was the soccer part, duh). I knew this because they announced it during the Wimbledon match I was watching which was…

2. … thirty hours long! I swear, I woke up late-ish as usual and since John Isner and Nicolas Mahut were carrying on from the day before and just finishing their match from the previous day (it had gone too long and Wimbledon doesn’t have lights or final tiebreaks), I figured I’d eat breakfast when it was over. Folks, in case you weren’t following, I had breakfast at 4:30pm. And they still weren’t done, it was like 118-118 in the final set or something. Maybe it was infinity+1 – infinity+1. I’m not really sure these guys are human, I think they might be comprised of those machines that just shoot balls at you across the net. And they finish today.

It’s the third day now and the longest tennis match ever. Actually, the fifth set alone is the longest match ever. The really important thing to note, though, is that suddenly tennis is on the news which it never is and even more so because soccer which never is has been using the last 30 seconds of sports time that is allotted to sports no one cares about. So, right, wow. But the pinnacle, I think, of shattered earth is the fact that Deadspin is reporting on a tennis event which doesn’t involve a shot of jiggling breasts or a view upskirt. Mind blowing.

3. The Yankees won in the middle of the night in an extra inning thriller. I made up the thriller part, it was actually a very poorly played game, but the ending was teh awesome.

4. Jonathan Papelass had his save blown in Colorado by a former Yankee. I’m sorry, I just don’t like that guy and I wouldn’t no matter what team he was on.

So right, that was all good. It was a good day to be a sports fan in New York. And even if you are a Mets fan, Jerry Seinfeld was calling the game at New Shea, so you had that. I don’t know who won that game, I only tuned in to hear Jerry call Lady Gaga a jerk and to see Keith Hernandez look embarrassed as they showed his old scenes from the show. And it was worth it.

In non-sports news, it was also an exciting day for me because I finally got a new phone. If you remember, my old one had a giant crack formed in its screen as I attempted to check email at 4 in the morning. You may think based on the timing that it is an iPhone but you would be wrong! That’s a red herring because I actually used the release of the iPhone to convince T-Mobile to give me a free smartphone since I was thinking of switching. In fact, I was thinking about having no money but you know, I might switch in a few years. They didn’t ask me when. And the Internets informed me that T-Mobile took that as a good reason to give away phones so I am now the new, proud owner of a BlackBerry Bold which I lovelovelove. Everything looks good and sounds good and moves quickly and it can do all sorts of fun things.

But this is also good news for you because I took that occasion to change my mobile theme to one that works on more devices. If you normally visit me on a mobile phone, you are probably looking at it right now and I hope it’s clear and legible, if lacking in the frippery of my normal theme. If you’re looking at a little screen and seeing my normal black & gray & flowers, please let me know in the comments what device you’re using so I can get on that. If it’s an iPad, I can’t help you… yet. But they say they’re working on it. You are very important to “them.” They will be right with you, please stand by.

By the way, and back to sports for a moment, people sometimes ask me why I’m a fan of one person or another. Is it their nationality? A big forehand? Hotness? Sometimes! But not usually. Most often it’s by personality (see the Papelbon example above there) and I find that out by sitting through my yearly matches at the US Open and seeing who appeals to me. Someone determined and classy, who respects the fans and doesn’t argue with the linespeople, and who seems to be having a good time. I know, it’s a tall order. A few years ago, in fact, I saw Nicolas Mahut play and he was an ass. I even mentioned it in a post. But see, if you can maintain your composure and give it your all for ten hours (and counting), I will become your fan. Of course, I was already a fan of John Isner because of Twitter. If you are funny on Twitter or even just talk to your fans on Twitter, I will be your fan. New rule. Also, tiebreaks. That should be a new rule. But of course, then I’d just be reading articles about Venus Williams’ underwear on Deadspin, so there’s that. Hooray for week long matches!

Heaven 17 – Play To Win

I went to the T-Mobile store, just to play with the phones to maybe get used to the idea of simply replacing my BlackBerry with a newer, better, faster BlackBerry. Not to buy one. But the guy talked me into it! Really! And maybe in my heart of hearts I really did want it. Then something went wrong and as they were ringing me up, the credit card literally in my hand, the transaction couldn’t be completed because of my cheap and ancient plan. I felt disappointed, but, whatever, I could just phone up T-Mo and get it done. But that’s the thing: I haven’t. And I doubt I will. I probably will just keep on waiting for the Perfect Phone to come along and in the meantime use my sad Curve with the cracked screen. I have worked in retail sales, although never on commission, so I have a vague idea of the psychology of this. But a big purchase like this one is something I never imagined letting myself be manipulated into making. Weird!

The other thing it made me realize is why the Nexus One, the phone I covet (although it doesn’t fulfill all the requirements either) has less than 2% of the market. Because it’s only sold on the Internet! I can’t go into a store and play with it and feel like I can’t leave without it and have the slick salesguy convince me that this promotion will end TODAY and I need to get it NOW. I think Google, which does so many things right, has done this thing wrong. When it appears in the store next to the lesser Blackberry or G1 or whatever, then people will want it. Now, it doesn’t work this way for Apple, but people didn’t run out to buy the original iPod either. Apple had to build that “I’ll buy this sight unseen” fanboy clientele and Google hasn’t accomplished that. Not to mention, I also coveted an iPad and happened to have a torture session dentist appointment this week which put me next to the Apple Store. All through the drilling, I kept saying to myself, “survive this and get to go see an iPad!” Well, I did survive and I did go to the Apple Store and guess what? I didn’t like the iPad. It didn’t feel comfortable in my hand and there wasn’t multi-tasking, at least as I’m used to. So now I don’t feel bad that I can’t afford one because I wouldn’t buy one. But I had to try one to figure that out. And I had to be in a physical store to do that.

Zappo’s comes closest to replicating that, by sending shoes overnight and allowing you to send them back free with no repercussions. But if you’ve seen even one episode of Sex and the City, you know people can be talked into shoes like a tech nut can be talked into a 3G BlackBerry. But not by websites… yet.

There is a story to this post title. When I started the baking business, while I was still at the record label, I told a co-worker about it and he said, “Good idea! You know, you can’t download a cupcake.” There are some things that the Internet still cannot provide.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory Sdtk – I Want It Now

Yesterday, I went to the Genius Bar. This is my name for Jacques Torres’ Wicked Spicy Chocolate Bar but for some reason, it’s also the name of the repair desk at the Apple Store. Apple seems to have the same attitude towards appointments as my doctor’s office because when I got there for my 1:20 appointment I saw my name up on the big board as #12. Out of 12. This is something you do not want to see when you have gone across town on your lunch hour to basically show your power cord (heh, she said power cord) with the wires all frayed to some geek so you can get a new one a week before your warranty expires.

So, instead of spending five minutes and then walking out with a new power cord, I sat against a wall and waited. The first thing I noticed was that the stools for customers at the various desks (iPod Genius Bar, Mac Genius Bar, Studio – that’s the training one) are clearly designed to show off your underwear and buttcrack for the amusement of people forced to wait for appointments. This also goes for the various Apple store employees doing one-on-one training with the customers. The employee, sorry, genius, nearest me wore boxers, if you must know. I also noticed that everyone being trained was over fifty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The woman waiting near me, who was probably sixty, kept looking at me and trying to catch my eye to start a conversation. Did I mention I was in a bad mood? Don’t talk to me, lady. But she tried. “Are you here for training?” she asked. “Nope,” I said, and took out my BlackBerry. I’m not sure non-iPhones are allowed in the Apple Store but I went for it anyway.

After that, I worked on naming all the Geniuses based on their appearance. The one with the kipa was FrumGenius, then there was HipsterGenius, TattooGenius, PerkyGenius, and CurlyGenius. They were all white guys. I watched myself move up the board. After about 40 minutes (40!), I was number three. Then I disappeared! I went up to one of the “concierges” (I should have asked him for tickets to The Lion King too) and asked him what happened. The conversation went like this:

Me: I was #3 and then I went off the list!
Him: Did you check in with me?
Me: Did anything say I was supposed to do that?
Him: What is your name?
Me: Becca
Him: Your appointment was canceled because you didn’t check in.
Me: I’ve been waiting 40 minutes! Can you put me back?
Him: Let me see…. OK.
Me: Am I at the back of the line now? I don’t see my name on the board.
Him: The board doesn’t really mean anything.
Me, thinking: well, if it’s meant as entertainment it is sorely lacking
Me, out loud: Your website should really mention that you have to check in.
Him: Melanie L! Melanie L!

Luckily, I showed up a second later on the board as #1. Board doesn’t mean anything, my ass! I got TattooGenius. Every other Genius was smiley and friendly. Except my guy. He seemed suspicious of my motives from the start and told me my warranty was up. I said, “I checked, it’s December 19th.” He looked skeptical. Listen, bud, if you cannot read your own system, I can’t really believe you are a genius. Albert Einstein would probably have realized that if I purchased my computer on December 20th, 2006, and today is December 11th, 2007, and the warranty is one year, then it is not up. Finally, that information sunk in and he replaced my cord. He also told me I had been pulling it out of the computer wrong, even though I never actually told him the method I use to remove it from the computer. Genius! When I mentioned a problem I read about with the hard drive on my model, he insisted there had been no such problem reported or he would know about it. Might I suggest Google, oh Genius? I suppose I’ll just wait for the catastrophic failure to happen after my warranty ends, which is how these things usually go.

But, you know, I did walk away with my cord. And it could be worse. It could have been CompUSA, which you may have heard is going out of business (shocking!). Now, no one could beat their prices, and by that I mean be more expensive than them, but they were always good for just grabbing a spindle of recordable DVD’s or whatever. However, their customer service, to me, was exemplified by these two experiences I had.

The first was a conversation I overheard in the Mac section.

Customer: Are Macs any good?
Employee: Sure, I plan on getting one soon myself.
Customer: Can I ask your reasons?
Employee: They look really cool.

Super. Just last week, I was waiting on line, the one line that existed for 20 customers because “everyone is on their break” at 7:30pm. One of the employees walks along the line and asks everyone if they have received a sales pass or something like that. He hands each of us a piece of paper with nonsense written on the back. I ask him what it is for. “Organizational purposes,” he says. When I get to the cashier, finally, I hand it to her, she rolls her eyes and throws it away. On the way out, I am forced to show my receipt to the security guard who does not bother looking in my bag, scribbles a circle on it and I leave.

There goes a well-run organization. With their 30% off sales they may just bring their prices in line with everywhere else. But hey, at least they never called themselves geniuses.

Title comes from the slogan on the Geniuses’ Christmas shirts.

Tom Tom Club – Genius Of Love

I just consider it somewhere safe to shop. And shop I did. It’s 25 minutes away by subway! And no changes! One line, up, down, etc. Do you know how nice that is with bags filled to the brim with inexpensive merchandise? I may never shop at Duane Reade again, I don’t care if it’s on every corner of my intersection. Which it is. On the way back, I ended up talking to some lady from the Village (she didn’t understand the weekend service changes on the IRT, which have been going on for most of my adult life, it seems, so I am a fount of information) who had only come so far because she had a gift card. For ten dollars. And she said it took her an hour to find anything she could possibly want. Are you kidding me? I made comments to the effect of “$5 toothpaste at Duane Reade, $2.39 at Target” and such, and her answer was, “I shop at the 99 cents store, I never go to Duane Reade.” Well, if you want to die of poisoning from Crist brand Chinese toothpaste, have at it, sister! It later emerged that her handbag cost four hundred dollars. I cannot make this stuff up. By the way, I spent $165 at Tar-jhay. And I may go back this Sunday.

I want you to know, I have nothing against The Bronx. It’s actually my third favorite borough! Right in the middle. Here’s how it shakes out:

1. Manhattan – This may surprise you if this is your first day on this website.
2. Brooklyn – Sentimental favorite – I’m half Brooklynese and have swell memories.
3. The Bronx – Yankee Stadium, The Bronx Zoo, Botanical Gardens – what’s not to like? Please don’t answer that.
4. Queens – I suppose I just don’t really like Queens, maybe it’s the fact that I only find myself there in a huge hurry to make a plane. But it has the National Tennis Center and until they move it to somewhere better, I’ll continue to just enjoy it one week of the year.
5. Staten Island – I’ve seen it more often in Working Girl than real life. I believe I have spent one day there ever. I think I was ten.

So there you have it. And actually, I’m not sure I want a Target in Manhattan. Have you seen Union Square lately? And by lately, I mean in the last ten years. No, really, it’s beginning to make even I, who love chain stores, kind of queasy. So let’s keep it just over the border in The Bronx Riverdale, shall we?

KRS-One – South Bronx

Dear Brits,

It looks like Whole Foods is opening in England! Bully for you! I’m going to parse the meaning of this article in the Telegraph about it and give you the real scoop on Whole Paycheck.

A grocery chain that has conquered the United States by selling ethical organic food without packaging will gain a foothold in Britain today.
Lies, all lies. Plenty of food at WF does, in fact, come in packages. Heh. She said packages.

Ostrich eggs, Incan berries and 21 varieties of tomatoes compete for shoppers’ attention alongside £80 bottles of Chateau Ducru-Beaucaillou, 2001 vintage wine.
Forget this! Eggplant will run you £80! Bring credit cards.

A humidified cheese room keeps fresh the rounds of Beaufort, while downstairs customers peer through windows as staff make sausages.
Is this true? We don’t have this at our WF. Anyone? I’ve watched them make sushi but it’s kind of like watching the people at Ford turn out SUV’s.

Karin Gilles, a mother, who lives 200 yards away said: “I am sure I will pop in here once a month. But would I do my weekly food shop? It comes down to price. If it is any more expensive than Waitrose, then it’s unlikely.”
I’ve never been to Waitrose, Karin, but I’m going to say unequivocally, yes. But it all looks so good, that’s the problem. Two hundred yards away, you say? Oh, you’re in big trouble.

Most of its star products, especially the meat, are more expensive than from any rival. A whole organic chicken is more than £2 more expensive than in Tesco, for instance. However, it sells a range of goods that beats not just Waitrose, but also Tesco.
This is true. It’s a little-known fact that at least one out of every 25 products at WF is cheaper than at other stores. Best of luck finding it!

Part of Whole Foods’ secret is its lack of packaging. Couscous is dispensed from a large jar into plastic tubs, which customers are encouraged to bring back. They can also buy apples without shrink-wrap.
Wait, hold up, you don’t have this in the UK? There’s no “dispense yourself, weigh & pay” sort of thing? And apples only come in plastic? I don’t really believe this. Does the Telegraph actually grocery shop?

But only today will it know whether they are interested in ostrich eggs at £12.99.
Enough with the ostrich eggs! People actually do buy other things there, you know. Why, just last week I took a mortgage on my apartment and bought a container of blueberries. You heard me, it was in a package.

But this is all OK, it looks like you guys are returning the favor! Tesco is coming here! Of course, it will be called “Fresh and Easy” to appeal to the American market. After all, we are nothing if not fresh & easy.

Cheers!
Becca

PS, take your time with responding, we will be off for Independence Day.

The Soup Dragons – Whole Wide World

I think last night might have been my final straw with them. But let me back up a little and just say that I have never, ever gone there with the intention of buying a non-new-release CD and actually found it. Sure, they have the stuff that was released last Tuesday, but their CD racks seem to be there just to tease you into thinking they might actually carry the pre-2006 CD you wanted. No sir!

And don’t bother asking anyone anything. They never know. I think my favorite customer “service” event happened last Christmastime when I went looking for a Discman for a gift for someone-or-other. My conversation with the salesguy went something like this:

Me: Do you have the El Cheapo brand Discman on sale in your flyer?
Him: I’m sorry, that’s not in my zone.
Me: Pardon?
Him: We each cover zones. The portable electronics zone is over there but the guy is on break.
Me: So you can’t step over 30 feet and show me where it is?
Him: I’ll get fired. Do you know what my rent is?

Uh, no. And I never found out. But that brings me to last night when I went with a friend of mine visiting from Israel, Naftali, whom I’m namechecking shamelessly to ensure he’ll read my blog from now on. It was clear the store would be closing shortly and it was nearly empty. We went upstairs, found the two external hard drives that were on sale and I proceeded to ask the salesguy if the no-name yet cheaper one was decent. He said, “I haven’t received any complaints on any of the hard drives.” Now, I ask you, when was the last time you complained to the store sales guy that your hard drive crashed? But, you know, that was what I wanted to hear so I went with it.

He got another guy to open the case for us and get me the one on sale. Or so we thought. Because they were closing soon, they had closed all the registers except the customer service desk. Which is fabulous because you get to wait on line for one cashier behind all the people with long, drawn-out issues. The woman in front of me won the prize, though, because she went ballistic and insisted she had pulled out her credit card and now it was gone. First she declared that the cashier had lost it. Then she moved on to contend that it had been stolen by some other customer. Because of that, she insisted the cashier let her use the phone to call Amex to cancel it that very second because someone was out using it to buy things RIGHT NOW. Of course, since she didn’t have the card, she didn’t have a number so wanted the cashier to find that for her. Naftali and I spent this time debating whether it was in her pocket or if she had left it at home.

By the time they got to me I was ready to jam the hard drive down someone’s throat. But finally, the cashier rang it up and it came up as double the actual price in the sales flyer. We determined that the guy upstairs had given me the wrong one. Great. So we went back upstairs (of course the security guard, who wanted to close up, tried to stop us) to find the salesguy who when I pointed to the one in the flyer, said, “oh yeah, we don’t have that one.” Naturally.

So why do I keep going back to this store? Because it’s the nearest one to me, at the moment I have a giftcard there, and it’s the cheapest thing in the area. Of course, things are always cheap when they’re not in stock and so you can’t buy them. But I’m counting on them for the new Deftones CD which comes out on Tuesday. I’m sure if I get there within 12 hours of its release they’ll have it. I just hope I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

The Polecats – Make A Circuit With Me

Me: Didn’t you used to carry Aveda? Where’s the Aveda?
DR Guy: I know we do.
(searches, finds another guy, they both search, nada)
DR Guy: I guess we don’t have it anymore. Try the Duane Reade across the street.

Yes, try the one across the street. That’s when a blog entry formed itself in my mind.

I used to think Duane Reade was a guy. Hey! Duane! But one day I was serving jury duty, wandering around an area far further downtown than I ever go, when I happened upon a Duane Reade at the corner of Duane and Reade streets. Duh.

My friend Becky, who now reads this blog, once told me that she read about the secret to DR’s success. It’s that they will take any space. If you go into CVS or Rite Aid, they’re all nice and organized in tidy rows. If you know where the shampoo is in Peoria, you probably know where it is on 96th Street in Manhattan. DR is not like this. Some stores are L-shaped. Some have two levels. Some look like mazes, complete with arrow signs guiding you to the pharmacy. Once, my nearest Duane Reade moved across the street. I knew I was fucked. I would never be able to find anything again.

I know what you’re thinking (don’t I always?). Surely you exaggerate, Becca. Right. Here’s a picture of the two Duane Reades facing off across the street from each other.

Click to enlarge.

Can’t see the left one? Here’s a close-up.

I know it looks older and dirtier but I like the one on the left because it’s all on one level. Plus I know where the shampoo is. I really have to go back and find the Aveda.

I only shop at DR because it’s everywhere I want to be, as they say. But when I get it together enough to want a lot of pharmaceuticals at the same time, and I don’t want to spend $6.99 on toothpaste, I haul my ass down to K-Mart. There is no Wal-Mart in the city, not that I’d shop there, and Tar-jhay is cautiously circling around the outer boroughs. There is really no reason to tell you this except people seem to like those touristy photos without having to actually come here and pay $300 for a hotel room. So here’s a shot of the nearest landmark to K-Mart. You may recognize it.

Of course, as everyone knows, the Empire State Building changes its colors to salute various causes and holidays. I think the lighting theme here represents “Colors Becca Would Never Wear Day” which is celebrated throughout the world.

I wanted to link to The Rolling Stones’ She’s A Rainbow, but they’d only give me 30 seconds. And thankfully, there are no songs I know of about Duane Reade.

So let’s go with the song I was listening to today on the subway. They’re from New York and this is an awesome song.

The Walkmen – The Rat

Here’s hoping I never have a post that references this subject matter.

So, a block away from there, I pass this huge glass cube with the Apple logo on it. Now, I had read about this but I still couldn’t figure out why it was such a momentous occasion. Yay, there’s an Apple store on Fifth. Tourists can now buy the same iPods they can get at their local Best Buy (or Apple store if they have one). Whatever. But there was a big crowd and lots of press. I know this is a continuing theme with me, but once again, I was caught without my camera. I mean, who would have dreamed there would be anything to take a picture of at a mammogram besides a bunch of women sitting around in hospital gowns? Stupid, stupid me.

Anyway, in that room full of women in hospital gowns, I had a lot of time to think about stores. This is because there were no magazines. None. Come ON. These women had all come prepared with work or a book or a paper but you could tell I was a rookie because I had nothing. I first filled my time by gazing at the inoperative stereo system across the room and trying to guess which knob had which function. OK, the slidey things are the EQ and the big knob is the volume and the buttons go with the CD, blah blah blah. Yeah, you know I was bored.

But then I realized, hey I don’t smell! The reason this was shocking is you’re not allowed to wear deodorant or powder in your pits when you have a mammogram. I have no idea why. Don’t bother to tell me in a comment, I don’t really care. But this was a lunchtime dealie and so I had spent the whole morning in the workplace with, you know, other humans. I did think that through in advance, finally deciding on a giant sweatshirt that I’ve had since about 1989 when giant sweatshirts were in fashion for women. I figured it would absorb my stink in its thick folds. (Before you ask, yes, we have a casual workplace – you couldn’t get more casual unless you came in nude).

As I mentioned, I had more than a few idle moments to think about why I didn’t smell. I came to the conclusion that it was the soap given to me by Kay from a store called Lush. I used to buy stuff at Lush when I visited the UK regularly. Then it seemed novel and fun to buy overpriced soap by the slice from bins under handwritten signs with clever descriptions on them. Once Lush came to the Upper West Side I stopped buying. I seriously have never bought a single thing from Lush in New York despite the fact that I pass it two or three times a week. Of course I do; it’s on a block with several other attractions. Shall I list them? Sure, everyone likes lists.

1. Dale & Thomas Popcorn. Holy crap, that stuff is good. Sweet, salty, fantastic.
2. Zen Palate. So good you forget it’s vegan. And you can get high from the herbal iced teas there, I swear.
3. Beard Papa cream puffs. For the strictly Orthodox, I must warn you, there’s no hechsher but what could they put in there? For anyone else, best.cream.puff.ever. And seriously, all cream puffs are good so you can only imagine.
4. Fairway (OK, it’s a couple of blocks away, but close enough). Best/cheapest grocery store in NY.

So into this mix comes Lush. But all those overpriced cleansy things just don’t have that thrill when you’re not on vacation. Everyone swears by their “bath bombs” but I don’t take baths so I don’t care (and I even have a jacuzzi bath courtesy of the previous owners who thought it’d increase the value of the apartment). And a shower is just a ten minute affair that is over before I can get to the fourth song on Turn On the Bright Lights and I skip the first one because it’s too slow for my chop-chop shower routine. It just slows me down. So, whatever. But Kay got me this nice lavender bath slice which lasted me all day. Excellent stuff. I highly recommend it for when you are going to get felt up by a machine and want to stay shower-fresh.

But this got me thinking. Maybe Steve Jobs figured people on vacation who have just overspent at Prada and FAO Schwarz will be willing to shell out for the same iPod boombox that was too extravagant at home. I, of course, will be gazing at it across Fifth trying to guess which button does what.

Title comes from:

Pet Shop Boys – Shopping

Oh, and I really did want to link to The Smiths’ Handsome Devil. If you know this song, well, you’ll know why. If not, Google the lyrics! Isn’t the chorus perfect, wink wink wink? But alas, I guess licensing their songs to online services was just another issue that Morrissey and Marr could not agree on. Blast those eccentric geniuses.

So let’s have another “you live like this, we live like that” exposition. There are three places to get groceries in New York City. We’ll look at each.

The one you’re no doubt familiar with, as was I when I was growing up in the suburbs, is the supermarket. Right now you’re imagining a vast, clean, wide-aisled fairyland where the latest things that you see advertised on TV are available in every possible permutation. Think again. For starters, ours are much, much smaller, as well as dirtier, and if you can get your basket (don’t bother with a cart) past another person’s ass without knocking over a slew of tuna cans, count yourself lucky. By the way, there will only be two brands and maybe three varieties to knock over. If you see a commercial for something fun like “lemon dill tuna,” don’t bother looking, it won’t be there, and while you’re peering at the shelf someone will knock their basket into your ass.

Here’s an example of a “super” market. Like most supermarkets here, it’s in the base of an apartment building. Like many, it’s on two floors (another reason you can’t use a cart) and there’s an escalator. Some have an elevator. Some are all on a lower floor and you have to take an escalator down just to get to the food. This is a Food Emporium, an “upscale” market. By upscale, they mean overpriced. I wanted to take a picture of a Gristede’s, which is the dominant grocery store around here, but it was out of my way, and like most New Yorkers, I won’t walk more than four blocks for a grocery store (there are bags to carry home, you know).

On the other end of the spectrum, there is the bodega (bo-day-gah).

Bodegas are kind of like 7-Eleven or Wawa except instead of a fruity slushy drink, there are vitality-supplements from Asia. And, as you can see, flowers. Here, your need for milk and Sun Chips without walking more than 30 yards from your apartment or subway is met by the entrepreneurial-minded immigrant who has a mark-up that Apu at the Quick-E-Mart can only dream about. You can see the name of the bodega on the awning, “K&S Market,” but I would bet you no one who has ever shopped there knows that. I certainly didn’t. I, like everyone else, call it by some variation of “the bodega on the corner near the pizza place.”

In between these two extremes are various specialty and independent grocery stores. Some are just mini-supermarkets, some skew to the health conscious, and some, like the one where I got the butter, cater to a more gourmet clientele. Here it is below:

Yes, it’s called Barzini’s. Please insert your own Godfather/Five Families joke. Here’s mine: “I thought that place with 14 kinds of European butter was a dream, but I didn’t know until this day that it was Barzini’s all along.” Yes, OK, I’ll keep working on that.

Anyway, I know you’re wondering so I’ll tell you. I bought the Breakstone’s.

Title comes from…

The Clash-Lost In The Supermarket