So, I wanted to go to the grocery store the other day. And it turns into this big process, right? Back in Austin, my hometown, we have a ban on plastic bags at grocery stores

— well, at any stores, really, and for a while there at the beginning it was NO BAGS AT ALL, so if you forgot your bag and you were at like, HomeDepot, you’d be standing there in the checkout line, after you’ve paid your $68 for, like, three lightbulbs, a decorative plant, a garden hoe, and a package of drywall screws —

and you’re not even sure if you need drywall screws? like, last time you tried to hang anything in that house it was super easy to find a stud —

in fact the people who lived there before you did the minimal cleaning possible when they moved out so there are still all these nails and screws in the walls like everywhere anyway, and while you’re thankful for the nails

— and you’re even thankful for the VCR you found at the back of the top shelf of the hall closet, even if you are still a little confused about why there were so many loose socks up there with it — I mean there were only three, but, like, why are three random, mismatched — and clearly worn — socks on the top shelf of a hall closet anyway? And why would they be next to a VCR? —

and so anyway, you’re at HomeDepot, wondering if you even need these screws that you just paid — really $7 for screws? — for because there are still nails and holes all over most of the viable spots on the walls anyway, but whatever, you got the screws, and now that you’ve paid, you’re just standing there and the cashier gives you that look —


“Um, did you forget your bag?”


And it’s not a judgey look, because she’s new to this too, we all are (the ban just went into effect like a month ago); and so it’s really more like shared embarrassment than anything else, and you’re standing there and she’s standing there, and she’s got to move you along because there’s a line of people forming behind you, and the next person, the guy directly behind you has his bag, his “I’m Not A Plastic Bag” bag, and it’s just hanging there against his thigh, thrust into the world — into this silent discourse — by his jutted hip and tiny shorts

(because HomeDepot daddies are totally a thing and you can totally see his bulge — his massive bulge — and if he weren’t busy looking annoyed with you and you weren’t busy fumbling over a forgotten bag then you’d totally scam on him in the checkout lane and maybe even invite him for a peak-and-tug at the urinals, I mean, come on, it’s like gay heritage to jackoff next to someone at HomeDepot — your gay ancestors did not not install a urinal separator for you to not peak-and-tug this compact little pocket bear — but not now because he’s clearly got his Austin Single Use Bag Ban Eco-Conscious Reusable Bag bag and you’re still fumbling),

and that little Pocket Bear has — along with his fucking bag — a bunch of wood planks (because maybe he’s building a dog house, aww… or more likely a St. Andrew’s Cross?), so the cashier’s going to have to come out from behind the counter and scan all of his wood (hehe) with her scanner-gun but she can’t do anything while you’re gawky flabby body is still standing there, blocking the line, dumbfoundedly staring at everyone’s crotch, trying to figure out out to hold three lightbulbs, a decorative plant, a garden hoe, and one astoundingly overpriced package of drywall screws without a goddamn bag.

And after one or two of those experiences, you learn not to forget your bags, right? 《Continue reading on my blog, if you want. 》