Sunday, July 31, 2011

A typical day in the life of...

Yours truly. This little gem is from last summer- I wrote it to my friend after I had an amazing trip to the grocery store.

You wanted an email so here goes. So- after I dawdled at work for a long time because I had nowhere to go and no one to go there with, I decided I would treat my self to a bottle of wine. So I went to Robert's and while I was there, I decided to buy some food, as well. Because we have very little food in the house and apparently last week, when Dan pulled some pop corn out of the box, it came out with a roach. And we all know- I don't do roaches. So until Dan is back in town- I am not consuming anything out of the pantry- unless Sophie is right there to attack if a god forsaken creature should show up. P.S. I just typed anything out of the "panty" and not pantry- and it took me a while to realize what was wrong with that sentence.

So anyways- I am purusing Robert's, trying to decide what I will consume tonight when I decided I wanted something to go with ketchup. Naturally, I grabbed a bag of regular zapps (naturally)- and I would like to point out that I made the decision to grab the little bag (that feeds four to six) instead of the big bag (that feeds an entire village)- so I should get some credit. I was also next to the crackers, so I grabbed some so if I decided to eat some cheese, I wouldn't have to eat goat cheese with a spoon (and honestly this is just me trying to maintain the idea that I am a self sufficient, somewhat respectable adult. I really think there is nothing wrong with goat cheese on a spoon, but I am really trying at this whole adult thing).

I was headed to the wine when I began recounting what I had eaten today: part of a blueberry muffin, some of a mocha granita, some mash potatoes, and a Popeye's biscuit (or 1.5 biscuits, or 1.7--- probably actually just two whole biscuits). So let me go over that again: carb, carb, carb, fat, saturated fat, fat, carb, fat, carb, carb, saturated fat, polymonotrioctoquadro saturated fat, carb. At this point I decided I should probably get some vegetables- just to give myself a healthy option. And in case you didn't know- I have an unending love for canned asparagus. That stuff is so good it will make you want to slap your momma (that is when I don't already want to slap her- which isn't often. Hi Mom). Sometimes Everytime I eat it in front of people, they bitch about the smell and how disgusting it is, but I think they are just jealous that I love canned asparagus more than I love them. It is especially good with French dressing. Anyway, I wandered on over to the canned asparagus and grabbed myself a few cans and then selected a fine bottle of wine (yes! Rex Goliath is on sale for $7!) and then went to check out. Well- this is when my adventure really begun.

The girl checking me out was a young, heavy set, blond girl that kind of eye balled me when I walked up (not in a mean sort of eyeballing way, just in an eyeballing way). And she rung up my 5 items (chips, crackers, wine, and two cans of asparagus) and then looked at me and said "are you just getting off of work?" and I said "yep." And she said "getting some stuff for dinner?" And I said "actually, getting dinner, doesn't it look good?" At which point she looked through my bag, eyeballed each item (and in the bad kind of eyeballing way) and then looked at me and said "no- this is really unhealthy. The least you could have done is bought fresh asparagus." Whoa whoa whoa. Back it up here. We went from small talk to 'what the fuck' talk in about pernt five seconds. So then I told her I bought the canned asparagus because I wasn't so sure I was going to eat it tonight and didn't want it to go to waste. She then looked at me for quite a while- up and down- up and down- and goes "hmph, well at least your skinny." Which I got defensive about (like 'bitch, why you callin me skinny- you don't know me') and told her "yeah, well I work out" (because apparently I had to offer an explanation on why I could select my dinner items and maintain my girlish figure). So then she starts telling me about how she lost ten pounds and then gained it back and is trying to lose it again but her parents keep bringing her cake (.......what?).

While she was unfolding her life story to me, I put my wallet under my armpit (as I often do, because it is really f-ing big) and collected my belongings. At the point that I was all sitcheated (read situated, but in a fun way), I tried to grab my wallet and I realized the zipper was stuck on a loop on my sleeve immediately next to my armpit. I stood there and struggled with the wallet and tried to make small talk about this girl's cake problem until it came to the point where I had to interrupt her extremely interesting story and ask her to pull it off for me. I had to lean way across the bagging area and let her rummage around my pit for a while until she got it untangled. At which point, I looked at her and said "Well that was awkward- have a nice day" and booked it home to have my chips, ketchup, cheese, and wine.

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