Better in Bulk

     For those of you who have been following my Facebook posts, you will notice that I recently made a wise investment in a rather large case of “Kirkland Light Beer”, a cleverly named light lager for the thrifty deadbeat dad who might still want to maintain his “peaked in high school” physique. That is, by the way, my favorite Rob Lowe.

     While I like a lot of things about living on the East Coast, I have made no secret about my misgivings. The main thing is the insanely high cost of living. My co-workers, who all grew up in New England are probably very tired of me talking about how cheap it is to live in Iowa, or how I rented a four bedroom house in Texas for a lot less than my current apartment. We have kicked around the idea of buying, but I can’t stomach buying a 100 year old non-insulated shack for $500,000.

     This all being said, my husband and I both have good jobs. We do fine, but we have to stick to our budget more than we have before. We have a weekly amount we set aside for groceries, and I stick to that amount. I decide what we need for the week and some items might get pushed to next week. Basically, this means weekly trips to Costco to buy a few things, instead of buying a whole bunch of crap when I feel it. Oh, a cube of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese? Some may ask why, I ask why not? Not a good way of thinking, because there are several reasons why not. But a few strong reasons why…

     Costco is great for certain things. We get meat, frozen food, cleaning supplies, paper products, and another items that are non-perishable that we are sure to use, but the main thing I have been getting there lately is their alcohol. Yes, it is at a good price, but there is a large convenience factor. In Massachusetts, you cannot buy beer, liquor, or wine at any grocery store, you have to go to a separate liquor store. And since it is an established fact that my husband and I enjoy our cocktails from time to time, this is kind of a frequent inconvenience. Between Costco, the regular grocery store, the liquor store, and the market where we get our produce (it’s amazing), and any other random items I might need, running errands can take a full day.

     And no, they do not have Wal-Mart here. I know, where can you find all the Wal-Mart creatures? Well here, they are de-centralized, and everywhere. It’s hard not having Wal-Mart. Where can you go to feel a little better about yourself? Well, there are several places I could mention in another post but at the end of this entry, maybe you’ll find yourself behind me in line at Costco.

     In the scheme of wine and spirits retail, Costco is a little bit of a loophole. They have a wine and spirits “section” that is inside the store. So, you go over there and make a separate transaction.

     A couple of weeks ago Josh was accompanying me on my errands, which is rare. We were in Costco strolling around the wine and spirits store and were just about to leave when I saw a box of Irish beers. I pointed it out to him and he shrugged his shoulders, then smiled.

      “I don’t know…It might be a little too classy for us” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want the Kirkland Light Beer?”

       I laughed. “Oh you noticed those?” I said. “I’ve been eyeing those for weeks because I thought they were hilarious, but I kept forgetting to tell you. I’m sure it’s awful.”

      “Um…could be good. The lovely silver packaging and the catchy name…” Josh said sarcastically. Or in a serious tone. I can’t be sure anymore. This is a guy who went through a serious PBR phase in college. I tolerated this for a while, because he was the one buying the beer. But, I drew the line when I woke up one more morning and my stomach felt like it was turning inside out.

      In the end, we decided to splurge and go with the Irish beer collection. We nursed those for a couple of weeks and even make a great beef stew with the Guinness, but last week we were out of beer and I found myself back at Costco getting eggs and turkey bacon. I’m making my rounds in the wine section when I stop then back up a few steps to stare down a silver box of Kirkland Light.

     No, I think, and walk a couple of steps. Then I walk back and contemplate it. It’s one hell of a deal, 48 cans for 21 bucks. It’s like 50 cents a can. I haven’t’ had beer that cheap…ever. Even my first beers snuck at wedding dances in high school were two bucks.

     Don’t do it. My mind says. It’s got to be terrible. You can’t even get a soda for 50 cents and that is made from the cheapest, most unhealthy shit imaginable. This stuff will probably give you cancer. You aren’t in college anymore, what’s the point? This is not the keg shop. This is not a fire sale. You do not know what you are buying.

      Yeah, but how bad can it be? What if it’s surprisingly good? How great would that be? I decide to buy it. If nothing else, I can surprise Josh and we can have a good giggle. I heft the unwieldy box into my cart and stroll to the counter. The kid checking me out is barely 21, so I figure he’s tried it for sure. I mean, he is probably making minimum wage and would be the person this beer is really marketed to, not a childless woman who is pushing 30.

      “So seriously,” I ask. “How bad is this stuff?”

      “I honestly don’t know. I have not tried it,” he says.

      I’m surprised, but I press on. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not great, my expectations are pretty low,” I say. I realize how painfully obvious this must be to the kid, who probably is attending a prestigious school here and has his whole life ahead of him.

      “I’m betting it’s like a Natty Light or something,” he says. Which I feel is fair. I’d like to say it’s been years since I’ve had a Natural product, but I would be lying, unless you are talking about natural like Whole Foods natural. Last year Josh insisted we drink Natural Ice because he had done a cost/benefit analysis on carbs to alcohol content. It was impressive really, how he researched that and made the presentation to me. I kept thinking what a beautiful mix of practicality and white trash principles. There’s a comfort in this. If we ever find ourselves living in a trailer or shanty, it will likely have some ingenious enhancements to it.

      “Anyway,” he continues, “I would likely never get it. I would only get it if I was having a party or something. Those are too many beers for me. I would never be able to drink them all.”

      Ah, instant embarrassment on so many levels and I instinctively lower my head. Because I wasn’t having a party, it was just a normal weekend at home with my husband. I used to be a party throwing kind of a gal, so it’s also sad that I’m not anymore. I realize if this beer is really bad, I can’t just throw it in a cupboard and pawn it off on my friends during a drinking game. Those days are over. I think about confessing this to my young, apparently studious cashier, but I have reached that level of maturity that I can play out these conversations in my head beforehand.

      First I would have to tell him that it’s just me and my husband. Then I would probably tell him that we aren’t crazy boozehounds or anything, but then I would glance three bottles of wine in my cart. Then I would blush and start to stammer about how it’s a lot less than when we were first married and used the kegerator…that we still own…that we registered for in our wedding. I swear we’re not white trash. Oh wait, yeah, I’m still buying this Kirkland Light. But it will probably take a while to drink it. Yeah, we’ll really plug away at it, because we have nothing better to do than sit around and watch ESPN and drink discount beer while our dog barks at the neighbors.

      I have played this all out in my head and have come to the obvious conclusion that nothing I say will really help my “We’re not white trash” case. Some battles you just cannot win. It’s like when one of Josh’s co-worker’s girlfriends moved to Kansas City from California and I was trying my best to convince her we were not white trash. Then Josh sweetly supported my efforts by constantly talking about NASCAR, inviting her to go bowling, and then to a gun show. We went to said gun show. I had to try to explain the entire time that I had never been to a gun show before…even though Josh had…with his dad…when he was junior high. Yeah.

      In any case, I’d been here many times before. I knew were this was headed. Time to get out. I paid for the beer and loaded it in the back of my dirty truck next to a dirty shovel. Damn. Again. I swear I’m not white trash.

      We are still working on the Kirkland Light. While it inevitably pairs well with wings, mild depression and overall failure, it is a lot of beer. We are not in college anymore, nor should we be drinking as such. Josh refers to it as “middle cup beer”, a reference to an old favorite drinking game.

      After a week we still had wine left too, but with another snowstorm coming up, I headed back to good ‘ol Costco tonight. All I needed was some steak and wine for Valentine’s Day. Costco is normally a total cluster fuck on weekends, but Friday nights are tolerable, if you can stand to face the fact that your social life has hit a new low. Tonight, however, I had to park on the end of the massive parking lot by the mountains of snow. The place was packed. I had to wait in line to purchase my sad little package of steaks and then headed to the wine section. Steak and wine. So classy.

      I buzzed through, ignoring the beers and made my way to the counter when I realized it was a complete dead zone in there. There was nobody in the wine and spirits section. Normally I have to wait in a line four people deep.

      I walk up to the cashier, a different kid, but one who looks like he would be more apt to buy Kirkland beer. He and his counterpart were checking out some woman’s ass across the store and not so discreetly making comments about it. So these are my people, I guess. In their defense, this chick did have a pretty great ass.

      Anyway, I say to one of them, “Where the hell is everybody? The parking lot is full but no one is in here. What are these people buying?”

      “Stocking up for the storm,” the kid said

      “Um..yeah, so am I,” I point to my wine. Which, of course, includes Black Box. Hey, it’s won awards.

      The other kid smirked. “Bread and milk,” he says. “The essentials?”

       I have neither in my cart. To be fair, I have them at home. But apparently I’m the only one out of the hundreds of people at Costco who considers wine an essential. Come on, wine and a blizzard? That's how babies are made. I wouldn't know, but I saw that on a Hallmark card once. I’d bet half the people in the store were conceived that way. On a rational level, I realize there many people making their way toward the wine section as I’m thinking this, and this is merely bad timing, but in the moment it makes me feel awkward.

      My cashier bails me out. “It was busy before. It comes in waves.”

      Sure, buddy. Thanks.

      But, I go to the next grocery store and see people almost getting into car accidents as they fight for parking spots, or the lady bringing 50 items to the express lane, or the person who does not even acknowledge or thank me when I hold the door open for them. I think maybe I’m not so trashy. It’s all about perspective. I pick up some grocery store wings and sushi without shame, because some people drink Kirkland Light, some people are Kirkland Light. Which is nasty. Nasty is what it is.