I'm Totes Not a Douche Bag

Keira Nightly and Some Eco-friendly Random

I've gotten varying levels of shit recently from friends and acquaintances for adopting the eco-friendly habit of taking totes with me to the supermarket in favor of coming home with yet another round of double bagged goodies. My reason for doing so is twofold: one, I'm all about saving the environment in whatever infinitesimally small way I can and two, I'm tired of plastic bags taking over my life since I absolutely refuse to throw them away.

I realize all this may smack heavily of the cult of Al Gore, but I would just like to go on record as saying that I've never read nor have I seen An Inconvenient Truth. Furthermore, I have no plans of netflixing it anytime in the near future.

I also realize the tote craze goes beyond just carrying groceries and has infected a whole subset of hipster scum who think that carrying something that looks like what your kindergarten teacher got as a free gift from Scholastic and brought her personal storybooks from home to school in is somehow of the moment or ironic, but that's an argument for another day.



Luckily, the New York Times Magazine has given me another reason to feel superior for bringing totes with me as well as another reason to detest belligerent consumers who treat retail employees like ingrates. In the space of 800 words comedian Paul Mecurio is able to make me thoroughly hate him as well as bring back a crushing torrent of memories of all the jerkfaces I had to put up with provide with excellent customer service in my 4+ years of working at the Gap. This article, incidentally, comes three days after the NYT Home & Garden section published an article about the plight of otherwise green-minded people who don't like switching over to florescent light bulbs because they don't like the way the light looks. Gross.


Florescent-Hating Family

I suppose these are the same people who still using kerosene lamps and light Christmas trees with real candles because it's so much more homey.

Perhaps I should be reading Mercurio's slice of life as "comedy" while simultaneously licking his boots since his bio tells me he is both a "comedian" as well as an Emmy AND Peabody winner, but natch, this just makes me hate him more.

Evidently it's self-serving treachery like this that keeps New Yorkers (and wannabes comme moi) coming back to the NYT Magazine each week so we can either identify with or deride dipshits who yell at store clerks. Either way, I'll proudly bring my bougie tote with me next time I hit up the Jewel to buy some florescent bulbs.