Ho ho ho

So it's Christmas again. The city is more or less devoid of people. A few tourists here and there and the random resident walking their dog. People seem to be visiting relatives out of town, as a large contingent of Manhatanites are transplants from someplace else. But I prefer to imagine them traveling to places like Paris or Bora Bora to spend some time chilling out and not thinking about Santa, Fruit Cake or midnight mass.

Booger Eating Businessman

Not so long ago, I was coming back from a video shoot way downtown. I dragged my tired self to the E train and sat there, in the train, at the end of the line, waiting for it to move. It was past rush hour, but a few suits still straggled in. One middle aged man plopped down across the isle from me.

He loosened his tie and opened the Wall Street Journal. Nothing really remarkable there. Boring, really. I diverted my gaze elsewhere, my eyes drifting out of focus, really not looking at anything in particular, trying to whish the train to move. My thoughts kept getting interrupted by the man's crackling paper - either he is a speed reader or.... I looked over and I don't really think I was prepared to witness what he was up to.

Every minute or so, he let his right hand go of the newspaper, raised it up to his nose and went to work. He really dug around, his nose suddenly twice the size. After removing the offending piece of mucus, he proceeded to put it in his mouth. Naturally, I couldn't stop from staring. This was too gross not to gawk. A few times the bugger got stuck between his teeth, requiring a bit of a prod with this thumb nail.

I got off at my stop and, best I can tell, Mr. Booger Eating Businessman continued to snack all the way home.

Lard and other oddities

I’m not what you could call a frequent grocery shopper. While there are periods when the purchasing of food-stuffs happens more or less regularly, there are also spans when the cupboards are conspicuously devoid of anything to eat; when we’re down to the last few cans of something un-appetizing, and while we might have enough spices and canned tomatoes to start a feast, all of the remaining key ingredients are missing.

This week was one where we were pretty much out of everything. No bread, no margarine (artery clogging deliciousness in a tub), no vegetables, no canned soup (always a staple of the lazy cook). So today I gave in and pushed the granny cart to the local chain grocery store, past the metal barricades, past the security guard, into the fluorescent-lit run-down store. Yes, this is a chain grocery store, and no, corporate doesn’t seem to care what this particular store looks like.

The dairy isle of my ghetto grocery store does not disappoint. In fact, it’s probably the highlight of the place. It runs the entire length of the store, going from the front registers all the way to the back. All the usual products you’d expect are there, plus some that might surprise – like lard. Sitting pretty next to Brown and Brumell yogurt margarine. Lard next to the margarine that is promoted as the healthy alternative to margarine. At least when compared to lard.

I perused the margarine section for a great long while. I like to choose my hydrogenation carefully. While I’m more or less conscientious in what I put in my body, margarine is a guilty pleasure. I made my choice and proceeded to the check out.

It wasn’t until I got home and put the purchases away that I noticed that my margarine was not mine, but Lee Iacocca’s. I thought it was odd. I struggled to find the connection between the K Car and vegetable spread. No dice.

Well, it appears that Mr. Iacocca is now in the business of margarine. Weird I suppose, but while I have always found the K car tremendously unappealing, a margarine tub is, to me, a sight to behold.