We're back and, while there are many things to discuss, I have to start with a comment on my new lover, Trader Joe's. Don't get me wrong, I've been partaking of her peanut buttery, pretzel-y goodness and sipping her ruby red inebriants, but I have, unfortunately, found m'lady's fatal flaw.
It is known as "Trader Joe's Jasmine Green Tea," and I must say, I am flummoxed. We got home from our trip to Chicago late this afternoon, and I rifled through the packed Joe's bag to find the flowery green box of leafy nectar, eagerly awaiting a cupful of this ancient unguent to salve my roadtrip woes. I boiled a pot of water and poured the steamy liquid over the fragrant satchel, waiting until the brew was properly steeped.
When it was time, I raised the mug to my quivering lips, and sipped the fragrant fluid, ready to be transported to 14th century China, or India, or wherever the fuck tea came from.
What I got was a mouthful of soap.
I swear to fuck it's a bag of soap, man. And it's not like Dial of Dove, it's like old lady soap -- like those purple heart soaps in the porcelain dishes next to the fancy paper hand towels that you were afraid to use at Granny McGillicuddy's house.
I took another sip, just to make sure and... soap. Now this is the company I read about that flies all over the world to find the best peanuts, the best breads, the best cheeses, and the best they can come up with tea-wise is purple granny soap? It tasted like I sucked up a mouthful of some 18th-century old maid's underwear drawer. It was like a mug full of boiled bloomers.
So I took the liberty of amending the text a bit on the side of the box:
So, yeah, still open a store in East Lansing, Trader Joe's, but move the goddamn Jasmine Green Tea over to the "Soaps 'n' Sundries" aisle.