This was like my 7th or 8th time now at COSTCO. The notion of portion control kept resonating in my head as I tried to reach the handle of my shopping cart and push it around at the same time.
I stop in when my Tacoma needs gas.
Got a good deal on Peet’s coffee though. That oughta’ last us a few weeks.
I’m still recovering from my first trip to Costco. I needed a couple of Ibuprofen after carrying the crate of Ibuprofen to my truck, which, by the way, I needed to get my entire shipment home. However, that’s not what I’m recovering from. I just can’t get over the sensational impact of the size-itudinality and quanti-bogacity of that experience.
What if I had bumped into Pope Francis there shopping for the poor, pushing his own cart and not being hauled around in the decommissioned pope mobile? Damn right, I’d have given him a piece of my mind. “Che, pibe!” I’d have yelled at the Pontifical Porteño. “Go back and get that pope mobile, and load that sucker up!” But, who am I to judge?