Open Letter To Trader Joe's

Dear Trader Joe's,
You fucker. I depend on your pre-packaged and pre-prepared foods for sustenance. You see, I'm like an astronaut and need to have everything ready to go when I get hungry or tired. Uh, yeah, not a huge fan of astronaut ice cream, but meals that you just need to pour water on interest me. I won't lie.

So, regardless, your produce is divine and your organic peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies help me close down an enjoyable day. Your chipotle ranch fries are incredible and pair with turkey dogs like you would not believe. Your Dynamo Plus Calcium juice is seriously...Dude, I'm gay for it. I know it's RW Knudsen, too. I know that it's bottled in Chicoooooooooooooo, CA. I know that I have to make my own sparkling Dynamo by mixing a combination of Pelligrino and Dynamo now. I also know that I seriously would be dead if it weren't for Sparkling Dynamo in college when I interned at Knudsen. That was a fuckin' weird job, but free organic juice all day. Delicious.

Oh my god, Trader Joe's, I'm just blathering on to you and not getting to what I was here to talk about. Don't look at me like that, either. I have fucking feelings you know.

So, first, where the fuck are your rolled up tacos? They were so good and they haven't been in stores for like a month. Second, please figure out your BBQ Chicken Salad. There have been three iterations of it at this point. When I first got it there was one dressing container that contained ranch and bbq sauce or something. There was probably chipotle something in there. Whatever, I don't care. Anyway, then there were two containers in the salad container of dressing. I seriously said "What?!" out loud in my kitchen by myself. So, anywway, I got used to it. It was fine and then today at lunch, I go to the breakroom and make stupid fucking conversation while I prepare the salad and there is one container of something that I don't even know what it is because I felt compelled to write this letter to you before I ate the goddamn salad. I'm sure it's delicious, but I need stability like the people that work at your stores need weird forearm tattoos and piercings.

Oh, also, if you read this. Please tell the cat ladys with like no food in their carts and like ten bottles of wine to quit standing behind me in line and being weird. It ruins my shopping experience, but I know I have a chance with weird cat ladys that drink gangs of wine and don't eat. They also always seem to look the same. I wonder if it's a chicken and egg kinda thing. Like the cats sucking their breath out at night gives them that gaunt look or if they had the gaunt look and hole in their life and felt compelled to buy a cat. Now, Trader Joe's, isn't that a fuckin' conundrum?

So, anyway, thanks for all the years of reasonably priced goodness and health...and bananas. At nineteen cents each, I'm living like the king of all monkeys, motherfucker. Just tits up in bananas and loving it like King Kong.

Sincerely and with love,
Hugh Voltage
xoxoxoxo