COOL OR NOT COOL: Gettin' Busy At The Park Slope Food Coop?

Once in a long while, an article about Park Slope comes across my laptop screen that is just so damn mind-bending in it's own perfectly crafted galactical absurdity, it scrambles my brain a little bit. Like it starts to feel as if the myriad of possibilities for making fun of this shit--this neighborhood we live in and all the people who live in it--is just completely overwhelming. IT'S TOO BIG FOR EVEN THIS BLOG TO HANDLE.

Such is the case with The New York Observer's nuanced exploration into the dark underbelly of the singles scene at your favorite judge-y work camp market and mine: the Park Slope Food Coop. Lest you think the Coop is only good for inane PA announcements or #768 (or whatever the fuck the number is) plastic recycling days, think again, ppl. Because apparently now your 2.75 hours of monthly avocado counting and orange vest walking responsibilities are not the only Coop-y things you have to look forward to. No siree, Sufjan! Here's yet another item to add to your ever growing "Reasons Why The Coop Rocks" Google tasks list: singles events!

Based on the results of our recent Park Slope sex survey, we uncovered the fact that 23.2% of you bitches are looking to pair up with some other chump (if you're not already), so far be it from me to stand in the way of anyone who's currently lookin' for love in all the wrong places. BUT! And this is a big but...do you really think that an awkward potluck singles dinner at the Coop is the best place for you to find your potential mate/boyfriend/girlfriend/sex slave/whatevs?

Cause I TOTALLY fucking do. I mean, if I have quotes like: “I work check-out. You know, I check you out” to look forward to, I think they should be holding these things on like a twice weekly basis. At least!

Apparently this shindig was held upstairs at the Coop, and attendees brought a disgusting inspiring array of mouth-watering dishes: "mustardy beet salad, broccoli sarita, chocolate orca beans and quinoa primavera." Yummy! (first FIPS reader to send me the recipe for quinoa primavera gets punched in the dick).

However, some Coop misfit actually brought a bottle of wine instead of a tofu/heart of palm casserole, and the Coop powers that be did not take too kindly to this: 

"A good-looking young woman in a sweater dress and leather boots sheepishly admitted she had brought of a bottle of wine, which, according to Food Coop code, had to be discarded at the door.

“That was wrong,” she told the room, looking guilty. “But I’m moving at 9 a.m. tomorrow, and I my kitchen is all packed up.” She paused. “I found my new sublet through the Coop, though.” With that, the crowd released a friendly murmur of approval, and she was saved."

Lesson to be learned here, folks: Food Coop codes are NOT made to be broken.

It wasn't all fun and games at the singles mixer though. During a round-robin "introduce yourself and introduce your dish" respite, one woman decided to stop being polite and start getting real about what single life is really like: 

Acknowledging a potential drawback of single life, however, [another woman] noted, “I mean, I could come home and lie there for three days vomiting without anyone finding me.”

The group winced. Another woman whispered, “I feel for her, but you don’t use the word ‘vomiting’ at a potluck.”

BWHAAAHHHAAAAAAAAA

Coop bitches gettin' all judge-y...I mean, could this shit get any better!?

Following Observer writer Robin Respaut's lead, I've decided to leave the best quote, from a hot little number named Tom who made a soup that (I swear!) some chick claimed tasted like cookie dough, for last:

“I only eat super foods,” he said with a straight face. “My Vitamix changed my life.”

[..............]

Can someone please go have a one-night-stand with Tom immediately?

(via The NY Observer)