We just bought some fresh mushrooms at Tienda Inglesa. The good news is that, since we moved here, they are usually available. Bad news is that they’re kind of ridiculously expensive — USD $7.50/pound. But they sell side by side with another imported brand that sell for almost 70% more. Have to wonder why anyone would pay that, but hey.
So here’s what we bought:
200 grams! 50 grams free! So we paid for only 150 grams?
Well, no — from the Tienda Inglesa web site:
And what did we pay?
94 pesos for 200 grams, as advertised. Yet we somehow got 50 grams free, paying 94 pesos for 200 grams?
Bill Hicks had a routine* in which he said, “If anyone here is in advertising or marketing, kill yourself … seriously, though, if you are, do.” I found that a little strong when I first encountered it.
But when I consider that these people are trying to convince me they’re giving me something for free when I pay the same for the same amount that I paid last week — well, thank you, Bill Hicks, and you marketers, kill yourself. Seriously. You’ll be doing your soul, and the rest of us, a favor.
*no link, because being Bill Hicks, it contains considerable profanity, but easy to find.
Walking home in front of the Zoológica (Atlántida’s little zoo), the parking attendant gives me handouts:
Addiction treatment. Save your life or that of someone who needs it.
A chance for the ultimate in hair restoration. USD 160. 100% limp? Something must be lost in translation. Regardless, I’ll pass.
Stonework, plus cleaning, fill, ponds — which reminds me our tajamar in the campo, bone dry two weeks ago, is more than half full after the recent rain. More on the tajamarhere, here, here, and here. Anyway, no more for now. Thanks anyway.
Funeral services. More personal • more humane • cheaper. Than what?
Parcels and freight, moving. Daily, door to door. Now this might come in handy if someone in Montevideo wants to buy the freezer we have for sale.
The POP stand from yesterday reminds me of substitutions people make here, generally to shorten words (one of the trickier words we tried when we first arrived in Buenos Aires long ago was estacionamiento, which i eight syllables to say “parking.” And indeed, you can see signs that say “parking” here.
So “off” in place of descuento, but why “on line” when the Spanish is en linea?
And what’s with the possessive apostrophe? Guys, in your language there is no possessive apostrophe. (No matter how many years you’ve been dreaming.)