I went to the Giant Grocery store today. List in hand, I was whizzing around the supermarket, making great time, grabbing this, grabbing that, improving when necessary (Oh yes, I do need more popcorn, I had totally forgotten), when it hit me.
I done got my ass trained.
There is this old saying, well I assume it is old how can you ever know for sure right? Its not like I have Bartlett's Big Book of Quotes at my house, and a cursory search using the Google-brand search engine yielded conflicting results (but lets not kid ourselves, its from Calvin & Hobbes, and let me just express my frustration at seeing this site get whacked by the Private Copyright Enforcement Legal Team, otherwise I would have embedded the strip. Oh sure, I could go through my Calvin and Hobbes books and scan it myself, but ummm, no). So anyway, Calvin once said, "If you do something bad enough the first time, they wont ask you to do it again."
I am pretty bad at a lot of things. I do not have to try. Used to be, one of those things was grocery shopping. In my single days, I went to the grocery store like a real adult, but generally came home with frozen meals, frozen pizzas, beer, bread, and chips. I was always confused how my freezer was always jammed, while the fridge was always empty. I just assumed that it was an optical illusion due to the size difference. Then I would put the beer in the fridge, and the fridge would be fuller, and all would seem ok with the world.
But now, I have that girlfriend. And she has been gone for the past two and half months. Which meant that I had to fend for myself. Her, being the proactive cutie pie that she is, starting making me a grocery list, and then demanding that I go shopping with a specified time period in order to take advantage of all the SALES!! (THIS BREAD NEVER GOES ON SALE AND IT IS BUY ONE GET ONE FREE!! GET TWELVE LOAVES!!!) So I did, getting my fresh fruit, and fresh veggies, and fresh meat, and random organic shit, and yogurt (mmm, yogurt, with FIBER!).
All the while, unwittingly falling into the perfectly laid trap set by my devious woman.
The girlfriend, being in law school, occasionally has late nights and other various studying and other law school type bullshit, that prevents her from getting to the grocery store. So for example, one weekend she was preparing for a trial. So yeah, lots of important stuff she has to do (this would NOT fall into the aforementioned law school type bullshit category. This is real shit. Regardless of the flavor of the shit, I am always happy to help out. Or, try to help out). And, because she was out of food, she had to send me to the grocery store. So she made me a list, wiped some schmutz off my face, patted me on the ass, and sent me on my way. And I did my best, but the grocery store was just so overwhelming! All this food. Must be 80 quadrillion different food items. And there were only Ten on the list! The odds of finding what I needed are astronomical! I wandered around the store aimless for an hour, occasionally finding a product specified on the list, occasionally confused (Simply asia is on the list, but does she want the noodles, or the microwave full meal, and what flavor? So confused), before I called her up to get help finding what she wanted. And I am sure I still came back with four things that were not correct (Seriously, every time she sends me out to get her something, be it from Giant or CVS or whatever, I never get it right, I always screw something up).
I give her credit though, she never lost faith in me. She kept sending me out, and I kept screwing it up. Even if I did it wrong, she did not stop believing in me.
Then she realized the solution. All she had to do was leave.
I am no longer incompetent at the grocery store. I get actual fresh foods. (Ok, still intimidated by the Meat department, but really, that place is only good for fish. And giant cuts of meat. I don't need that. Plus I am poor. I don't need fancy stuff. I get the Big Buys). Today, I bought a big ass cluster of celery, and not just the hearts, the whole big thing that is cheaper than the hearts. I cut it up and stuck it in tupperware. But here is where it gets bad. I put water in the tupperware, because that will help the celery last longer. And I know it will be good for just about a week. And I learned this shit, through buying celery and fucking up (fucking up is always the best way to learn). GAHHHH!!!! I should not know this! I should not be adept at navigating the grocery store.
She tricked me. By making me self-sufficient, she really just made her life a lot easier. Damn it all to hell.
Oh well, at least when she comes back, she is gonna cook me some real meals. My creativity does not extend to the kitchen (or the blog for that matter HA! beat you too it!).
Anyway sweetie; I'm on to you and your attempts at "training"
I never even heard of this dude:
Monday, July 26, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Undergrad--A Hopefully Chronological Remembrance Pt. 1
It has been 3 years since I last set foot on my undergrad campus. And that was because I had to stop at the office of disciplinary action to get a record of the disciplinary action taken against me. Had it not been for that, we would be around seven years. Of course, I blame law school for that shit. But regardless, I got to thinking, through an alcohol induced haze (which reminded me of undergrad), what stories I had, and which I did not remember. This series will be about the stories I remember, and hopefully, in the order in which they occurred.
Today, Acceptance
I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. When you do that, one thing is clear, You are going to the University of Illinois. Or at least, that is what your parents want you to do. In-State tuition is fucking cheap! As it were, I had two older sisters, neither of whom went to U of I. They certainly were smart enough, one went to DePaul and the other decided that Jesus reigned supreme and went to some crazy God school in the middle of nowhere. So through my trail-blazing sisters, I knew that UofI was not the only option. In fact, one could venture in the scary urbaneness of the Chicago, or even into the middle of farm country! (ok, so technically, my house was across the street from a farm growing up, until suburbia exploded in the mid-90s, but still, Possibilities!)
As my graduation date loomed near, I looked over my right shoulder and saw the Oldest Twin off at DePaul, a private school, and over my left shoulder I saw my youngest older sister at North Central College, a private school (having since given up the dream of "Crazy Religious Schools are the Place to Be!). It was time for me to make a decision.
I understand the benefits of the in-state school. Surely when I have kids, that is where I want them to go. But I am not them. I wanted to get as far away as possible. Well, as far as possible without going to a crazy Jesus school.
Sadly, I know what exactly drew me to Miami University. They sent me a big huge package of shit. And, they were in Ohio. I figured, if they are gonna send me all this shit (postage must have been at least $0.72!) they would not reject me. And they were in Ohio.
I do not think it is necessary to justify why I wanted to be 5 hours away, other than that my mom was on the fence about me being that far away. I was 18. I wanted to be out in the world. I thought I could be somebody who was cool. I was proven wrong in with respect to the latter, but essentially, it came down to a choice of where I would be uncool at, UofI or Miami.
In classic self-loathing, repressed teenage, get off my back dad, form, I threw my Uof I essay. Threw it like one would throw a basketball game for the benefit of gamblers. My essay was good, don't get me wrong, I am pretty sure I used the same one for my Miami application. But there was one key difference.
Ok, two key differences.
First, I hand wrote my UofI exam. On the back of the application, there was and a third of a page blank space for an essay, which I guess they assumed people still had typewriters back in 1999 (they may have been right), but I crammed my essay into that space with handwriting a third grader would not be jealous of.
And I applied to the School of Engineering. Which you have to be smart to get into. Sure I had an ACT of 29 and a weighted GPA of 5.05/5 but I knew that would not be good enough. I did not even want to be engineer.
But that did not stop me from applying to the Paper Science Engineering program at Miami. That shit was begging for students. (long aside: I did the whole, sleep in a dorm room and your mom sleeps in another dorm room Fun Crazy-type weekend at Miami. This was after we stopped at the campus on the way back from New Jersey and when I fell in love with the campus. On the way to this sleepover, driving into Oxford from the Chicago area, was the first and last time I have ever actually nodded off behind the wheel. That will scare the shit out of you. Driving along, close your eyes . . . . . open them and you are a quarter of a mile down the road. Those rumble strips are effective. Nonetheless, I still feel bad about that. And hence, no sleeping behind the wheel since then. Anyway, that whole sleepover thing, I heard stories about people going out and getting smashed, and whatever, while I was back in my room at 11 pm. My quasi roommate came back around 3, but he was Black, so I just assumed that he was cool and people wanted to hang out with him. Nobody liked my white ass, and I sure as shit did not know anyone in bumfuck Ohio, so you might think that whole experience soured me on Miami. For some reason, it didn't. Probably because my mind was already made up).
So yeah, applied in a major I was sure to be rejected in at UofI and applied to a major I was sure to be accepted in at Miami. That is the recipe for success. Assuming you eventually change your major, don't graduate during an Accounting recession and go to law school, graduating at the top of your class just before the bottom falls out of the legal market.
Coming soon, Part 2, Orientation and Swing Dancing
Today, Acceptance
I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. When you do that, one thing is clear, You are going to the University of Illinois. Or at least, that is what your parents want you to do. In-State tuition is fucking cheap! As it were, I had two older sisters, neither of whom went to U of I. They certainly were smart enough, one went to DePaul and the other decided that Jesus reigned supreme and went to some crazy God school in the middle of nowhere. So through my trail-blazing sisters, I knew that UofI was not the only option. In fact, one could venture in the scary urbaneness of the Chicago, or even into the middle of farm country! (ok, so technically, my house was across the street from a farm growing up, until suburbia exploded in the mid-90s, but still, Possibilities!)
As my graduation date loomed near, I looked over my right shoulder and saw the Oldest Twin off at DePaul, a private school, and over my left shoulder I saw my youngest older sister at North Central College, a private school (having since given up the dream of "Crazy Religious Schools are the Place to Be!). It was time for me to make a decision.
I understand the benefits of the in-state school. Surely when I have kids, that is where I want them to go. But I am not them. I wanted to get as far away as possible. Well, as far as possible without going to a crazy Jesus school.
Sadly, I know what exactly drew me to Miami University. They sent me a big huge package of shit. And, they were in Ohio. I figured, if they are gonna send me all this shit (postage must have been at least $0.72!) they would not reject me. And they were in Ohio.
I do not think it is necessary to justify why I wanted to be 5 hours away, other than that my mom was on the fence about me being that far away. I was 18. I wanted to be out in the world. I thought I could be somebody who was cool. I was proven wrong in with respect to the latter, but essentially, it came down to a choice of where I would be uncool at, UofI or Miami.
In classic self-loathing, repressed teenage, get off my back dad, form, I threw my Uof I essay. Threw it like one would throw a basketball game for the benefit of gamblers. My essay was good, don't get me wrong, I am pretty sure I used the same one for my Miami application. But there was one key difference.
Ok, two key differences.
First, I hand wrote my UofI exam. On the back of the application, there was and a third of a page blank space for an essay, which I guess they assumed people still had typewriters back in 1999 (they may have been right), but I crammed my essay into that space with handwriting a third grader would not be jealous of.
And I applied to the School of Engineering. Which you have to be smart to get into. Sure I had an ACT of 29 and a weighted GPA of 5.05/5 but I knew that would not be good enough. I did not even want to be engineer.
But that did not stop me from applying to the Paper Science Engineering program at Miami. That shit was begging for students. (long aside: I did the whole, sleep in a dorm room and your mom sleeps in another dorm room Fun Crazy-type weekend at Miami. This was after we stopped at the campus on the way back from New Jersey and when I fell in love with the campus. On the way to this sleepover, driving into Oxford from the Chicago area, was the first and last time I have ever actually nodded off behind the wheel. That will scare the shit out of you. Driving along, close your eyes . . . . . open them and you are a quarter of a mile down the road. Those rumble strips are effective. Nonetheless, I still feel bad about that. And hence, no sleeping behind the wheel since then. Anyway, that whole sleepover thing, I heard stories about people going out and getting smashed, and whatever, while I was back in my room at 11 pm. My quasi roommate came back around 3, but he was Black, so I just assumed that he was cool and people wanted to hang out with him. Nobody liked my white ass, and I sure as shit did not know anyone in bumfuck Ohio, so you might think that whole experience soured me on Miami. For some reason, it didn't. Probably because my mind was already made up).
So yeah, applied in a major I was sure to be rejected in at UofI and applied to a major I was sure to be accepted in at Miami. That is the recipe for success. Assuming you eventually change your major, don't graduate during an Accounting recession and go to law school, graduating at the top of your class just before the bottom falls out of the legal market.
Coming soon, Part 2, Orientation and Swing Dancing
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Its Too Hot Today
Current Temperature in Alexandria VA: 100 degrees (feels like 103)
Current Temperature in the Cayman Islands: 86 (feels like 96)
Suck on that you fat money laundering Simpsons character living in a tropical paradise. You don't know what hot is.
Well, I guess I shouldn't complain. Its not like I am venturing outdoors today.* No, no, I am just gonna sit here and watch World Cup soccer on one tv and some random muted program on the other. Yes, yes this may seem wasteful, but hear me out.
First, the problem is that ESPN comes in all scrambly on my digital tv hookup. As such, it is impossible to watch that channel. I do not much care because I never watch ESPN anymore (oh noes, I will miss LeBacheorlette!) (and, I can still watch baseball games on ESPN3.com) (So why not watch soccer on ESPN3.com? Umm, because I am trying to write a blog post. And my laptop sucks, it does not like playing video and running any other programs. Also, I have my laptop on my lap and I don't want to burn my legs) (yeah yeah, time for some original jokes).
I have a little tv, that I watch while laying in bed. Even though I live in a studio, I find it necessary to have two TVs approximately 23 feet from each other. And I think today totally vindicates that decision. My little tv is just hooked up to the coaxial cable, not through the digital box, so I can watch ESPN on there no problem.
So while I have two TVs on (as well as a laptop), all my lights are off. And sure, the A/C is on, but the shades are closed. When I did this as a child, my mom called me a mushroom. So, I suppose you could say that I am shrooming today to beat the heat.
Anyway, due to the position of the two tv's, I have had to adjust my usual sitting position, and have moved from my couch to the chair which my girlfriend hates (that's its proper name). This has had an unintended benefit. I am in a much better position. Allow my wicked
As you can see from the drawing (I hope, well probably not, that is why I am going to explain it), from the way my apartment is set up, sitting on the couch is like sitting in a deadzone. the cool air is blown away from the couch on both sides. By sitting on the chair, I not only get a view of both TVs, but also cool air blowing on my head.
So, that is my introduction to some random thoughts:
___________________________________
I spent the last month ripping though The Wire. It is quite awesome. I am not sure what else to say. It is as good as all those obnoxious, highfalutin TV and pop-culture snobs say it is (sigh, guess I have to start watching Mad Men now too). The last season is a little too out there, but it is still pretty damn good (kinda like knocking Lincoln cause he was too gangly).
I am hopeful that I can get the girl into it. I have a pretty good track record of getting her into my TV Shows. She can now, thanks to me, count among her loves, Arrested Development, The Simpsons, and Firefly. For some reason she remains resistant to Buffy and Angel, even though she will spend two hours researching Twilight characters.
But I think that she will like it. It moves a little slow (she is an up at them kind of girl:
)
but it focuses on things she looooves. For example, the first season centers around the police department and organized crime. She has worked in a prosecutors office. She did a defense work clinic. This is right up her alley. Later seasons focus on politics. She loooves politics. She should watch it. Make sure you tell her to. Cause that would be helpful.
______________________
Spain just scored. Damn YOUUUUUUUUUUUU. Stupid Ponce de Leon. Hmmm, that is the only spanish guy I know. I am so ignorant. And really, I don't even care who wins. Soccer is so boring. I do not know how anyone can watch it.
Yup, that's right, time for more Simpsons video clips:
Damn you copyright laws. or at least copyright claims. Brush up on your fair use defense youtube. Oh well, go here, fast forward to the 2:45 mark, and enjoy the worst Russian dubbing in the history of dubbing.
Bottom line: Soccer is boring. I will never be convinced otherwise.
________________________
The woman gave me blog topics. One of which was the difference between her family and mine. I am not actually going to write a thousand words on that, but she mentioned that me meeting her family would be like the movie Meet the Parents. I said, true, but that her grandmother would try to stab me while I slept. Instead of the "LOLz" I expected, the girlfriend replied, "yeah, she might. She is nuts."
Those are not the most encouraging words I have ever heard in my life.
_________________________
I am however, trying to learn greek. It is not going that well. I think I am too old to learn a foreign language. I took three years of Spanish (who incidentally just won. Damn YOU ESPANA!!! May the Netherlands rip out your heart, and feed it to you while it is still bleeding (wow, I really hate Spain. Good thing France didn't make the final, I might have gotten all stabby (also, strong Nationalism is at work even with the crappiest of sports. Hence I can get fired up about soccer results, even if the games put me to sleep))) and about all I remember is "donde esta el coche/ el bano." It is enough to get by. Oh, and when I met the girlfriend, I remembered what Bonita meant.
Needless to say, my foreign language learning history is not encouraging. And then I had a structured class, with a textbook and everything. Now I just have a second hand Rosetta Stone that doesn't even have directions.
I do have the woman though. She decided that she is going to speak to me in greek for ten minutes every night, and I have to respond in kind. And if I do, I get special presents.
Needless to say, I am feeling confident in my ability to learn passable greek. Oh, those special presents. Men are so easy.
*if you are curious why I am not at work today, well let's just say that my system felt the need to clear itself out today. I don't think I could have made it to the train without popping a squat in the nearby woods
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