COOP-erating: Why Erica Must Join the Food Coop

Can we all agree that there is no more entertaining place inside the four corners of Park Slope than the Food Coop? Really...its true. And this is why I feel that it is the responsibility, no, the OBLIGATION of Erica to become a card-carrying member.  
 
Please join my recruitment efforts.
 
Seriously Erica, how can you call yourself a Brooklyn blogger with any credibility? How can you make proper fun of the Coop without getting fresh, real, ORGANICALLY-GROWN material on a 2.75 hour-per-month basis? Especially since its but a few blocks away, waiting for you...right next to the kombucha.             
 
The Park Slope Food Coop is hilarious, admittedly not on purpose most of the time, but still gut-busting nonetheless. I might argue that it is the glue that holds this diverse borough together--the leavening agent of the hood. The lungs? Okay, enough with the metaphors.
 
I mean, where else can you rejoice in the singular pleasures of watching a nut job chase his dentist through the aisles, berating him loudly for criminally bad dental work?
 
Where else can you study the mating rituals of intellectuals bonding on the beer enthusiast squad, discussing indigenous legal rights issues and the relative merits of Thunderhead Stout vs. Runaway Red Ale?
 
Where else, I ask you, can you bag dried fruit and nuts with an incognito Maggie G (wearing an apron and kerchief no less), and pretend like you have no clue that you're bagging fruit and nuts with Maggie G?

I haven’t even mentioned the sensory pleasures of working checkout. Well, maybe next time. 

I could go on...possibly because I’ve clocked a full fucking day there this week trying to get off their shit list [ed note: uh, do you mean you're SUSPENDED??? BWAHAHAHAHA].
 
But really, Erica, get your sorry ass down that hill today and join the club...at this point, you kind of owe it to us all.