After five dank, dark dorky days it finally stopped raining and Mlle Renee was able to go out and tippy-toe across the soggy bog of a yard. Tippy-toe until she saw an opossum creeping out of the bushes in the next yard. How dare this bald-tailed trespasser violate her sovereign domain‽ So she began to run along the fence to chase the creature away. The only result to her efforts was to get a few hissing snarls from the creature as it slowly ambled away, and to get herself somewhat muddied.
(She also wanted to chase a skunk that wandered into the yard a few nights ago, but I was able to grab her collar before she got out of the door. Don't know what's bringing out all the wildlife recently. There have even been reports of coyote sightings in the area. And wild peafowl have been roosting on the roof of the local hospital. Could it be that the Ark has sprung a leak?)
There was no way she was coming into the house with all that mud on her, so I got a bucket with some nice warm water and asked her to put her feet in it so I could wash them off. She wasn't to keen about the idea, but she was more than willing to try and lick the soap bubble off of my hands. I finally go her cleaned up and dried off and she went in the house to pout a while.
After supper she apparently forgot about the foot washing indignities and as I sat down to watch Bones she began to parade her toys out of the toy box and bring them one at a time for play time. Each toy has its own purpose. Some toys are for shaking, others for tugging or squeaking or fetching. She even has one chew bone with a rolling rubber ball in the middle. She likes to have this one rubbed up and down her back, sides and belly when she's not chewing on the ends.
She's not really spoiled, it's just our play time -- even though she gets most of the play. ~ ~ Unfortunately, while she knows how to get the toys out of the box and bring them to me, I haven't been able to get her to pick them up and put them back in the box.

Thankfully by the time FRINGE comes on she's worn out and ready for a nap.

SOME PEOPLE JUST LEAD A DOG'S LIFE! I should be one of them!

The one talent I've always wished I had was knowing how to play the piano. Not that I ever wanted to play the piano. No, I had my goals set on something bigger, but being able to play the piano was just the first step. Once I mastered the piano, I would have been able to move on to mastering other keyboard instruments.

Ultimately my talent would have allowed me to perform on my goal the Mighty Wurlitzer in the Wicket City's Fabulous Fox Theater.

THE MIGHTY WURLITZER OF THE FABULOUS FOX The late Stan Kahn at the keyboard.

Unfortunately taking that photo was as close as I ever got to the magnificent white and gold console in the Fox. I did get to play chopsticks on pipe organ in my parish church. I used to sing the Requiem Mass for Saturday funerals. Since I usually was the only one to show up, the organist used to humor me by showing me how to play before the funeral entourage arrived.

That was when I realized I would never achieve my wished for talents. In addition to having short stubby fingers, I also had short stubby legs that never allowed my feet to reach the pedal keys with all the low, rumbling notes. Just as well I guess, since there isn't a real big demand for Mighty Wurlitzer players these days.

In case your local stupidmarket or drug store runs out of those anti-viral masks during the N1H1 flu season, here is an idea for a spare mask that you can make at home yourself.

And it will even work for people who wear glasses.

( N1H1 Flu Mask )

But it's advisable to always keep your spare mask clean!

My very first Veteran's Day as a genuine veteran occurred back in 1969! Yes, Virginia, that was 40-years ago! That's when I received my official discharge papers from the regular army and the army reserve.

I had served my country for two-years stationed in a desolate, god-forsaken foreign land known as Kansas five-years earlier.

( See photo proof )

FLASH FORWARD TO 2009 - Anyway, Mr. Bill who actually served in Vietnam and I decided to celebrate our veteran status by taking part in Applebee's Free Lunch For Veteran's Program. It was a pretty good burger, and we left our waitress a tip comparable to what two burgers would have cost.

After that we fought our way across the parking lot to Sam's Club where I was able to restock my larder with cod fillets packed in the U.S. and Genoa salami and cheese.
I also saw this must item for Miz Becky and the Project Runway crew ... ... just look at all the neat stuff ... fabrics, findings, and mannikins! And just only $30!

After that, I headed home to take Mlle Renee for her afternoon inspection tour of the neighborhood.

I've always associated October in the Wicket City as being the time of our an Indian Summer. Technically Indian Summer is the period of warm and sunny weather following the first fall frost when all the trees are showing their finest coats of reds and golds.
Well, we had the frost early in October, but the rest of the month was the coldest, wettest October in local meteorological history. And as for colorful leaves ... most of them were knocked to the ground by never-ending rains before they could reflect the rays of the sun.
Even Mlle Renee became totally rain depressed ...

And to the relief of all our rain delayed Indian Summer finally showed up to start the second week of November with clear sunny skies and temps nearing 80F that tempted many to drag out the shorts of summer.
Unfortunately, while I joined the throngs heading into Forest Park on Saturday morning, I parted with them and the enjoyment of sunny skies to head inside the Art Museum for my regular appointment with the High Def Met Opera Performance.

I did pause to check out some new additions to the Grand Hall of the museum ...
... before heading down to the museum's theater. And while waiting in line to enter the theater I looked up at the Dale Chihuly chandelier overhead.
Not only did it capture the reds and golds of the Indian Summer outside, but it also foreshadowed the twisted tale of the Chinese Princess Turandot I was about to see.
Puccini's Turandot as staged by Franco Zeffirelli is one few remaining operas in the Met repertory that puts the GRAND in the term grand opera. It has everything ... spectacular settings, massed choruses and soaring solos. It was a dazzling production that was spectacularly captured by the live high definition television cameras -- especially with the overhead views taken from the new remote overhead cameras.
It was a Saturday afternoon well spent!

And there was still time to enjoy the glorious afternoon in the park when I went outside.




How's that for capturing Seurat?

Perhaps you might have noticed my disappearance from these pages for the past couple of weeks. I was more than willing to communicate, but unfortunately the internet was unavailable whenever I was available. And like most of the stories of my life, it was strange to say the least. It all started on Friday afternoon two weeks ago when I was attempting to add an unusually witty anecdote to my journal. When suddenly my computer told me I was not connected to the internet. With Disabled Cable you expected this to happen periodically. It usually reconnects in a few minutes. After 15-minutes had past I check the phone and TV and discover they were also inoperable. So I called the Disabled Cable service hotline ... HOTLINE typed with raucous laughter ... and was connected with the automated Let me help you solve your service problem. machine. A thousand curses on the wretched humans or unhumans that invented the technology that replaced inept live human service people with these totally inept machines that think they can have an intelligent conversation with you while implying you are a total dolt. After shouting I WANT TO TALK TO A REAL PERSON a dozen of so times, the machine finally said, "Apparently you would like to speak to a live support person."

At last! Unfortunately the Disabled Cable support staff is housed in an underground bunker somewhere in the middle of Utah and have no idea where Saint Louis is even located. I say this because the support staffer was happy to inform me that there was a service outage in the Little Rock area. After explaining that Saint Louis is in Missouri and not Arkansas he rechecked and discovered that there also was a service outage in my area. And it was an outage that should be corrected in an hour or so.

I called back at 11 p.m. and discover that there now was three outages in my area, but they should be corrected in an hour or so.

Saturday afternoon I checked the phone, TV and computer and found they were still lacking computer support. With dread I called the service hotline, and was told that they were aware of the outage and expected it to be corrected shortly.

Sunday afternoon everything was still inoperable, but instead of trying to call the hotline I went outside to do some winter-prep yard work.
That's when I discovered ...

Yes, it was the line that connects the cable to the house and apparently it had been severed by the fangs of some gigantic squirrel that was running along the wires that carry the cable service into the basement. Or that was what a totally innocent Mlle Renee tried to explain.

Well, after discovering I had a dog that had eaten the cable line I realized that I then had to eat crow and call the cable company. By this time I discovered that my number was automatically by-passing the automated service machine and sending me direct to a human. He didn't scold me or Mlle Renee and said because the phone service was out he would schedule for a RUSH service call ... which wouldn't be until Wednesday.

The repairman showed up on Wednesday reconnect the cable and also replaced my internet modem which was about ten years out of date although I've only had it for three years. He also discovered that there was a problem on the main line that would have to be repaired by a lineman that might cause me some minor problems with the internet connection. Minor problems like loosing a connection every couple of minutes. But I had TV and phone with no problem.

Finally last week everything went out again and I again called the Hotline and they sent out a new repairman. He ran a meter along all the wires and connections in the house and discovered that the man who had original installed the cable connection had bent the cable line while pushing it through a hole. He also mentioned that the lineman had discovered about a dozen breaks in the main line so far and that I should expect a momentary outage each time he corrects one.

Oh well I guess I could limit my internet use to late night -- but unfortunately Mlle Renee is now having a hard time adjusting from Central Daylight to Central Standard time and she keep waking me up at an ungodly predawn time each morning which means I've had to go to bed earlier each night. And after I fenced off the area around the cable connection. What did I do to get all this bad karma?

There was one good aspect about the cable outage. I was able to catch up with some reading ... starting with the fifth mystery adventure of Chanse MacLeod.

A GREAT MYSTERY READ Murder In The Garden District by Greg Herren Published by Alyson Books October 2009

This time Greg has created a triple threat thriller for our hero. It starts with the murder of a powerful Louisiana politician with too many possible suspects. Then New Orleans is faced with the possibility of yet another deadly hurricane. And finally, someone is trying to eliminate Chanse himself and possible his friends. If you're looking for a well written masterful mystery that will keep you guessing while turning the pages, give this one a try! Highly recommended.

If Charles Dickens were alive today,
He would be rolling over in his grave!

Recently, my curmudgeon's ire was aroused by the Disney Company's audacity to call their holiday 3-D IMAX release DISNEY'S A CHRISTMAS CAROL. Humbug! If it wasn't for Charles Dickens there wouldn't be an A Christmas Carol to pour the bucks into their Scrooge-like coffers.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL By Charles Dickens (1843 original edition)

A Christmas Carol was a story with a moral. Dickens wrote it for a reason, and while it might have made him famous -- it sure didn't make him rich.

Just watching the trailers for the new live capture animated film on TV with Tim Carrey's Scrooge slapstick flight through the air, rocketing through a row of icicles is just as shocking as witnessing the ghosts of Christmas Future.

I prefer the original tale ... ... OK, I'll admit it Dickens' A CHRISTMAS CAROL is the only Dickens' book I ever finished reading.

It was also the tale I listened to on the radio every year with Lionel Barrymore as a kid.

And though it's a fact that A Christmas Carol is probably the most adapted literary work ever, it's my opinion that the best adaptation was the 1951 film version with Alastair Sim as Ebenezer Scrooge. ~ Now that was a film that delivered a moral! And with pretty damn good acting, too!

But then, like Scrooge, I'm a curmudgeon with a heart. I don't need the latest technical magic to appreciate a good Christmas ghost story. Black and white will do nicely, as long as it leaves me choked up, misty-eyed and feeling the Spirit of Christmas in my heart.
~ "God Bless Us, Every One."
And the ultimate version of Alastair Sim's Scrooge is still available on DVD with both black and white and color-tinted versions for those who need their tale told in color.

I was advised by my housemate that I had made a slight omission in the post I made earlier today. She says that although I talked about her, and actually put words in her mouth that she would never use, I failed to add any new pictures of her.

So I'm now making amends. Here's Mlle Renee in her new look ...


She's always had a reddish cast to her coat. But as her winter coat starts to come in, it's coming in quite darker almost black. You can see the black hairs coming in on her ears. The same goes for her shoulders, back and tail. She's now a year and a half old and I suppose her German Shepherd ancestry is showing.

She also discovered a new toy. Finally after three years I got around to cleaning out the last drawer in my mother's dresser. I was sorting out the PJs and such as to what I could donate to those in need and what I should just pitch, when I dropped the pair of her goldfish and kittens socks on the floor.
These were the socks mom wore to bed in the winter to keep her toes warm. Before I could pick them up Renee claimed them as hers and carried them off to her sleeping spot.

She also took them out into the yard this afternoon to play catch and shake'em with them.


Guess I'll let her keep them ... maybe she's trying to tell me her feet are getting cold at night.

Well today is the big birthday for Glenn hypertwink. It's now or never time ... your last chance to start lying about your age. Because if you start next year, everyone will know you're lying!


Do have a happy day! And T.G. they got rid of the lawyers on the Amazing Race before they killed one another. Unfortunately, now we don't have anyone to dislike.

Thanks to the inability of my ISP (Charter) to maintain an internet connection for more than 30-seconds yesterday, my Mad Monday is coming to you on a Tuesday today.

Well, yesterday morning dawned bright and sunny and when I let Mlle Renee out to do her morning toilette, she came running back to me shouting, "THE SKY IS FALLING‽ THE SKY IS FALLING‽"

I tried to explain to her that it was just Mother Nature cleaning out her trees and throwing away the old leaves she didn't want anymore.

And she looked at me out of the white of her eye and said, "Bullshit, next you'll be trying to tell be that puppies grow on Dogwood Trees. Don't you realize that bitch is littering up my playground with these dumb leaves?"

Mlle Renee really doesn't mince her words. I guess you could say, "She talks like an old salty dog." Everybody pause to groan. Any she then began to run around trying to catch the leaves before they could touch the ground. Since we live in a very heavily treed area, her efforts were futile. We did try to see how many different trees in the area were littering the yard.

How many tree droppings can you identify?





You might notice that some of the trees are shedding before the leaves have a chance to turn color. This is due to the heavy rain and wind we've had for the past several weeks.

Now the real fun comes tomorrow when I get out the blower tomorrow to herd the leaves back to the compost piles before the rain starts again.

I don't know if this has ever happened to you, but last night I woke up craving something I haven't eaten since I was a kid. And trust me, that was a lot of years ago. Naturally, since I haven't eaten this item since I was a kid, I was completely lacking any of the fixin's to stifle my craving. While there are stores that are open all night, I wasn't going to catch a Metrobus at midnight to go grocery shopping.

So I had to wait until today to go to the stupidmarket and satisfy my Mad Monday Midnight Craving.

And just what was this craving? No cheating now ... what's your guess before you ( See The Craving )
OK, who guessed it and who cheated?

Well, the Metropolitan Opera's High Definition Transmissions of the Saturday matinee performances is underway again, and so I traveled to The Museum of Fine Art in Forest Park with a pepper-jack cheese on pumpernickel sandwich in pocket (for intermission since I knew I'd have no chance at Cavaradossi's uneaten lunch) to revisit the lurid world of Floria Tosca.

At its best Puccini's melodrama has always been a most tawdry tale, and Saturday's performance was even more so. Gone was the spectacle of Franco Zeffirelli's 25-year old production with its recreations of Roman landmarks and historical venues. In its place was a sparse, bleak and sepia-tinted monochromatic Rome and a very edgy noir (almost Hitchcockian) production by director Luc Bondy who seemed determined to bring out the best and/or worst in each character. This allowed Karita Mattila's Tosca to come across more as a bitch than a diva, and her jealousy was really overplayed. George Gagnidze's Scarpia was so vile and loathsome, I kept wanting to wash my hands. He reminded me of a cross between worst roles Sidney Greenstreet and Charles Laughton ever played. Never have I seen such a personification of lust, blasphemy and sundry other deadly sins. Unfortunately, the sparseness of the staging made the first act Te Deum more funereal than celebratory. But then, the only reason Puccini wrote it was to show how evil Scarpia really is, and it did succeed at that.

The second act opening was a bit much. Does Scarpia really need three bare-busted prostitutes' catering to his every physical and sexual need and desire. I'm no prude, but this opera should have posted an R rating. However, having Scarpia tear a chicken apart with his bare hands was a rather nice touch. And Mattila's Vissi d'arte (I have lived for art.) beautifully conveyed her utter desperation at being forsaken by her God and everything to which she has dedicated her life. She agrees to give herself to the lustful Scarpia in order to save the life of her lover Cavaradossi. But as Scarpia lowers his body on hers, she plunges a knife into his heart. A very bloody, though effective bit of staging. However, I did feel that the absence of the original stage directions of having Tosca place a cross and candles around Scarpia's body created a problem. It left Tosca with nothing to do during the remain bars of music until the curtain feel. And the choices Bondy opted for were rather lame.

I also thought the stage directions for the start of the third act were rather distracting. Puccini put a lot of work into writing a beautiful pictorial interlude of Rome waking up from a shepherd boy passing with his flock to sound of bells from the various churches of Rome tolling the dawn. (Puccini actually timed them when writing the score.) The director's choice of having the firing squad rehearse the pending execution, just didn't cut it. Marcelo Alvarez (Cavaradossi) did sing a fantastic E lucevan le stelle. And at the final curtain, when Tosca shouts that she'll see Scarpia before God and rushes to throw herself from the parapet ... I actually was tricked into gasping and jumping.

I would assume that this production got a lot of negative reviews when it opened last month. Puccini's terrible little shocker has been getting them since it originally opened over a hundred years ago. But you know what? For all it's flaws, it is a masterful melodrama. And though I was critical of some things it really worked for me. Had I been in the opera house instead of the Art Museum auditorium, I would have joined the spontaneous standing ovation the audience awarded it. (You don't often see spontaneous standing ovations.)

Next up, Aida in two weeks!

An added note ... most of North America was affected by sun flares last Saturday which can disrupt satellite transmissions, and the Met made an announcement of same and delayed the start of the opera for several minutes. The flares didn't affect the sound transmission, but caused the video to break up. Luckily there was no major disruption of the actual performance, though the intermission features were hit rather hard with the video breaking up, turning green and going black.

In 1986 the Phantom Of The Opera opened in London with the Phantom disappearing at the final curtain. Did he drown in the sewers of Paris? Did he open a sexy peepshow in Pigalle? Or did he move to London and become Jacque le Ripper?

Well, for 20-years Andrew Lloyd Webber has been working on the sequel to his record breaking musical (loosing the whole works once when his computer crashed) and yesterday he finally announced that the new show will reveal all when it opens in London next March. (Or when the advance studio recording is released, whichever comes first.)

Sneak leak -- the Phantom escaped from the Paris Opera and immigrated to the United States where ten years later he shows up on Coney Island in New York. (Probably because he can blend in with the freak and sideshow population there.)

Will it be a hit or a miss? Who knows, right now it has 32 musical numbers and a very strange poster.


Is the Phantom now a Phantomess? Or is he the M.C. for Cabaret?

For me it was the entire day today. First, I went to the eye doc this morning for a laser touch up on last year's cataract surgery. Took all of 90 seconds, and I departed for some shopping in the Galleria, Target, Dierbergs, Home Depot, PetSmart, lunch at Red Robin and riding on the Metrolink and Bus system.
Once at home I took Mlle Rene for a promised walk, talked to the neighbors, postwoman and more.
Finally after I dinner walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. That's when I saw the big purple arrow drawn over my left eye to make sure the doc worked on the right (left) one.

( Stupid, stupid, STUPID! )
No wonder everyone was looking at me like I was a real WACKO. Hell, the fully dilated eye was bad enough ... the purple arrow was the ultimate clown touch.

In case you missed all the advance promotions, the motion picture version of Maurice Sendak's classic children's book WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. It will really be interesting to see a movie based on a book that contains only nine sentences. But then the most of the book's success can be credited to Sendak's illustrations. And it's already been the basis of an opera. Anyway, I think I'll go take a look at it when it opens next week.

In the meantime ... here are my wild things...




Mlle Renee and her pal Leon D. Lion

WHAT'S BUGGING YOU? Would you believe this little creature has a leg span of over 8-inches in diameter?

Last Friday I went out to haul the recycling dumpster out to the curb in the front of the house and discovered this creature sitting on top of the lid. Now I really don't have entomophobia* ... not really, but when I see some bug taking up a square foot of the dumpster lid I like to leave well enough alone. Besides the dumpster was only half full, and newspaper, metal, plastic and glass can hold over to next Friday. Now what kind of a bug was it? I've never seen one like it before, and I didn't feel like searching the encyclopedia of insects. (The Bug Book)
Also, maybe it wasn't even a insect. I could have been an alien! It did have a wet back, but that might have been do to the dew. How often to you get to use do to the dew in the course of your ordinary LJ entry? Feel free to submit your guess as to this bug's I.D. And be sure to use the LJ Closer Look feature and check out the proboscis on this creature. Also check out the definition of proboscis (id est -- 2. The slender, tubular feeding and sucking organ of certain invertebrates.)

* Also known as insectophobia to non-Greeks and dolts.

THE LAST OF MY NASTURTIUMS

And would you believe I've gone through yet another summer without adding these colorful little blossoms to dress up one of my mixed salads. Well, I did once, but my guests picked them out of the salad and asked if I had gotten them mixed up with the lettuce. They probably also probably use insectophobia.

On August 12, 1939 The Wizard Of Oz made its premiere to the world in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. Twenty-four days later, I made my own debut into the world.
So that means TWOZ is celebrating it's 70th Anniversary this year. Which is strange since I only celebrated my 35th birthday this year, or perhaps it's one of the advantages of biennial record keeping. ( My 35th details. )
So to celebrate OZ's 70th, a special Blu-ray edition of the film was released in an Ultimate Collectors Edition with all the bells, whistles, books, tchotchkes and at least a year's supply of special features on four DVDS. And ... Friends Of Judy Alert ... you can even program the disc for a sing-a-log version.

So how could I not make this my special birthday gift to myself? I ordered it back in July, and it arrived today, the day it was released.
So I just had to take the afternoon off to watch it with Mlle Renee (and Toto,too!) And it looked better than I have ever seen it. The movie is holding up better than I am, and who needs CGI effects when you have real movie magic.

Usually when I post pictures of buildings to the journal, they're of moldy old buildings of generations past. You know, the ones that are on the historic register or national landmarks list. Anyway, on one of my treks last month I shot this building and didn't rediscover until yesterday when I was sorting through iPhoto files. I know nothing about the building other than the hint that the architect might have designed it after having a geometric nightmare. Interesting though.

YOU'VE GOT TO HAVE AN ANGLE!

BUS STOPS

Today's Mad Monday features a few of the many bus stops I've encountered during my many Tourist Treks around the Wicket City. A rather obvious choice since my major transport around town is the Metro Bus and Train System.

Let's start with my inspiration ... the painting by my late friend Bob Althage which shows a figure on a downtown street waiting at a bus stop. The painting doesn't have a title, but for some reason I've always felt that lone figure was me waiting at one of my many BUS STOPS. ~ ~ Feel free to suggest a title if you've got a good one.

DESERT ISLAND BUS STOP ~ ~ Who could ask for anything more? It even has a sandy beach painted on the sidewalk.

SIGN OF THE TIMES BUS STOPS ~
~

HOT SUMMER DAY BUS STOP ~

EMERGENCY STOP BUS STOP ~ ~ And only to find a lock on the door.

CRUISING BUS STOP ~

EVERYTHING'S COMING UP ROSES BUS STOP ~ Not being a COWard, I posted this one for Miz Becky.

EIRIE BUS STOP ~ ~ Ever get the feeling that someone strange is standing behind you?

Got to go, the bus is pulling up!

OK, I'll admit it, when it comes to bananas I'm somewhat of a banana fanatic. When I go to the stupidmarket I spend most of my time there selecting a hand of bananas because bananas are a very fragile fruit and most stupidmarket produce managers don't know how to care for them properly. First they store them too cold, causing the bananas to turn black. (Never store below 45 degrees.) They also bang them around a lot which bruises them causing black spots on the skin and soft spots inside.
So since I expect my hand of five or six bananas to last for five or six days, I'm very careful when selecting them. I don't want a bright green banana, but I want one that is yellow with green tips ... and NO black spots caused by being crushed or bruised. (Note -- A banana with black dots all over it is one that is fully ripe with all tannins turned to sugar.)
Yesterday it took a while to find hand that met my criteria and when I found it I put it in a produce bag and set it in the top basket of my cart. Then I did the rest of my shopping.
I also carry two grocery bags with me, so I don't have to go through the paper or plastic routine. So while I waited for the checker ring up my purchases so I could pay her, the bag-girls packed my bags. Or rather MIS-PACKED my bags! After putting my wallet away, I noticed that my bananas weren't visible.
"Where are my bananas," I asked?
"Dere in dat bag," the girl replied pointing to one of the filled bags in my cart.
They might have been in the bag the girl pointed to, but I sure in the hell couldn't see them. So I started taking things out of the bag. The carton of chicken broth was on top of the loaf of whole wheat bread mashing it into the bag of frozen chicken breasts which was on top of my hand of perfect bananas which was being compacted onto sundry cans and bottles that filled the bottom of the sack.
I almost had a seizure as I lifted my once precious and now battered Chiquitas from the bag.
"Didn't anyone ever show you how to pack a bag of groceries," I glared? "You put the bananas on top of the bag, not under the frozen foods and canned goods!"
"I just gotta put 'em in the bag," she replied.
"Well, let how to put them in the bag properly, or get another job -- because you're not very good at this one," I said as she sniffled away.
"Sir, I'll be glad to replace your bananas," the checked said.
"There's no what you can replace the bananas I picked out," I replied as I finished repacking my bag with the bananas now on top. "The bananas I picked out were the best you had in the store." And I wearily trudged out of the stupidmarket.
This morning I cut the bruises out of my once perfect banana and sliced it in irregular shaped pieces rather than the perfect circles I had expected.

My bruised and battered bananas: