So did you know that at our local gas station –

10 thoughts on “So did you know that at our local gas station –”

  1. several years ago, and briefly, i worked at the Marathon at 28th and Lyndale, which is my personal favorite gas station. the owners were (still are) these two Pakistani brothers who let us smoke pot in the back room and play loud music, and paid us in cash and frozen pizzas. they got extremely cranky during Ramadan, though. i couldn’t mop the floor without hearing “FASTER! CLEAN FASTER! You are such a slow girl.”


  2. I cannot tell you how much this comment pleases me, the idea of you smoking pot and playing loud music in the back room, and taking your frozen pizzas home with you. Why the Ramadan crankiness, do you think? Daytime fasting = irritability?


  3. yeah, not eating all day for a month would make me pretty crabby, too. i’m sure watching their customers buy cheese danishes and Doritos and greasy microwave cheeseburgers didn’t help, either.

    i quit after, i don’t know, two months, but the way in which i did it was spectacular. i don’t remember this, of course, but i am told i staggered into the store one night, completely plastered, and told them to go to hell and that i was going dancing (?!) instead of working my shift.

    they still won’t let me live that one down, which is maybe why i don’t go there quite as often as i used to…


  4. no, i do not in fact get an intense craving for a large spoonful of blackstrap molasses. i do believe it has iron and other good stuff within, but cannot fathom putting such a vile concoction into my innocent mouth. i would doubt your sanity were i not aware of a number of people who are avid molasses consumers, if not placing it directly in their mouths, then defiling a number of otherwise normal food items with it.

    case in point: many a morning of my childhood, my father used to boil up the healthiest pot of nastiness you could imagine. there were various whole grains in there (oats? bulgar? wheat? who knows.), as well as yeast, some other healthy brown powder of unrecalled name, and a monstrous helping of molasses. perhaps this is where i acquired my aversion?

    the roots may be debatable, the end result is conversations like this one:
    -how do you like the cookies i made?
    -they’re okay, except for the molasses.
    -but they’re molasses cookies. they’re supposed to have a hint of molasses.
    -well, that would explain the problem. like i said, they’re okay except for the molasses.
    -exasperated sigh on the baker’s part.


  5. Seeing as you also love a big spoonful of mayonnaise and a big spoonful of butter, I don’t know if you count in the molasses study, though, Gabrielle.


  6. At our local petrol station……
    She must be in her sixties, possibley older. She has the face of a woman who worshipped the sun in her youth. It does not have wrinkles, it has canyons. Her nails are false and always painted with bright colours. On Australia Day , she had little Australian flags painted onto each nail. She calls everyone ‘Doll’, is about 5ft tall and has the voice of a committed smoker. She is the life and soul of the place.


  7. So did you know that at our local gas station they sell the best water rolls slathered with cold butter? 89 cents and worth every penny. They also pick on your father by accusing him of stealing antifreeze; you will have to talk to him on the phone to get the full effect of that one.

    Now that I think of Stewart’s, I desperately need a 1/2 gallon – and it is indeed a full 1/2 gallon – of coffee ice cream. It goes with the weather outside.


  8. Oreo, guess what I just made? MOLASSES COOKIES. Bwahaha!

    My dear herhimnbryn, my car needs filling and how I wish I could pull in to your petrol station (which sounds so much better than gas station). I am ashamed to admit that I had to look up an image of the Australian flag since I couldn’t recall what it looked like. How shamefully American of me.

    Gabrielle, you and I will forever differ in our ice cream tastes. You and your Stewart’s, me and my Haagen-Dazs. So be it.


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