grocery shopping

i hate grocery shopping.  you know, the planning, the driving around, the excuses, the time commitment, the letdown, and the eventual leftover baggage.  it's really a big ordeal for me.

first, there's the list-making.  you have to determine what you need and what you want.  or you can just go in cold: you'll know what you want when you get there.  some of us only think ahead for the week-- short-term fixes--while some can plan ahead for years.  then there's the temptations once you're shopping, what looks (and sometimes smells) appealing but you know it's not good for you.  food like that usually goes straight to your hips.  or just leaves you with a tummy ache and heartburn.

then, you have decide where to go.  somewhere large that's well-stocked but the quality is questionable?  perhaps a smaller, local market where you have to wear the right clothes and are judged by what you leave with?  or maybe just a quick drop-by wherever is convenient?  sometimes you just never know.  or maybe you're the type that shops with a friend to make the trip more exciting.  i prefer the solo excurisions, personally.

if you're like me, the excuses soon start piling up though.  often, i decide to make the effort tomorrow.  afterall, i can't starve the rest of my life.  but, the day wears me down, i decide i'm too tired, i'm not in the right mindset to deal with people and options, so i decide to go another time.  that's when you start making bad choices: you start grab-buying, anything sounds good enough, and sooner than later you start resenting grocery shopping even more.

eventually, you'll make it to the grocery store with list in hand (or head) and you begin.  maybe you start at the produce section-- full of fresh choices and implied expiration dates.  healthy carrots? no. refreshing cucumbers? no. tall celery? sure.  so there you are, eyeing the celery.  the newest stock is presented in the front; the older, been-around-a-while celery is moved to the back to either expire or be selected later by more forgiving eyes.  maybe you look for a slim package, light-weight but all you really need.  or maybe you prefer stockier stems.  but, be careful which one you choose.  i mean, you can walk around with celery for a while, give it a good squeeze before deciding it's not really right for you.  you might release it where it doesn't quite fit in (perhaps the scattered bulk foods, or the domestic cake-decorating aisle) or your good heart will let it down gently and place it back in its home--unspoiled and hopeful for another chance to be a shopper's desire.  and despite the cruelty, you can leave it at the checkout stand, just seconds away from true commitment before your credit card seals the deal.  however, it's just cruel to take it home and then bring it back-- it may never resell, since other shoppers will prefer new products in case yours has been "damaged."

there are times i return home from grocery shopping with seemingly nothing for all my efforts.  other times, i end up with way more than i expected.  sometimes everything was just perfect and you don't have to go grocery shopping for a while; sometimes you  have to make room; sometimes you forgot something really important.  i am often frustrated.  i envy other shoppers for their efficiency and ability to find exactly what they're looking for.  i am often discouraged, leave the grocery store grumpy and unsatisfied to head home and bask in what little i have from past experiences (leftover tidbits or remnants from a fancy appetizer).  i wonder what other people think of grocery shopping, how often and when they find time and energy.  perhaps this is why i rarely go, prefering instead the short and sporadic attempts at nutrition and sustenance.

i hate grocery shopping.

aren't there better things to do instead?

the goods: tips

this, readers, is what comes of bad deeds.





a customer needed an early refill on his ambien, because, you know, he left it somewhere.  i hestitated, got the nod from the pharmacist, and went about my merry way clicking all of the OK buttons on the computer screen to fill his prescription afterall.  on a scale of 1-10 of annoyance, he was about a 2.  he wandered off, and i moved to the fill station to pour some little yellow pills out.

he came back, and i heard him tell the other tech, "i won the lottery!"  he then produced several twenty dollar bills, as he won the scratch ticket lotto game... and he was visibly excited.

"hey! want to share?" i asked him, ambien bottle in hand.

"if it wasn't for you, i wouldn't have waited around and won! buy yourself a coffee!" he shoved a $20 across the counter.

i stared at it, certain this seeming bribe would cause the karma fairy to come crap and vomit on my head.

"i can't. no, i can't do that. buy yourself something nice," i told him.

"NO!" he said, "i insist. please, it's all because of you guys. seriously. buy yourself a coffee."

after several back and forth "no" and "yes," he left with his prescription (paid for in cash) and the lone $20 on the counter called out to me.

i announced to the tech and pharmacist we could buy some amazing snacks.  visions of jelly beans, triscuits, and FRS galore danced through my head.

"no, i can't spend someone else's money," said both of them.

i contemplated how many cinnamon rolls $20 could buy for me alone-- briefly-- and then conceded to their point of view.  slowly, i withdrew a white envelope from our stationary drawer, and wrote "snack fund yum-yum-yum" on the front, and placed the cash inside.

enjoy, less greedy coworkers.

the goods: hitting "play all"

lately, i've been watching "house, m.d."  my obsession started a few years ago, when i was couch-ridden, doubled-over with stomach cramps, and eating plain noodles by the metric ton because it was all i could eat without wanting to yark all over my jammies.  oh, and otter pops.

i love the old cast.

but the day 13 joined the cast, i just about changed my "preferences" on facebook... i mean, seriously.

there are many things that draw me to medical shows... i like the mystery, the drama, etc.  i appreciate house's 2 rules about people: everyone lies, and people don't change.  i think wilson's character receives some of the best lines of the whole show; often, his character acts as a reasoning buffer to house's dark side.  and i find comfort in the idea that even the strangest, most unusual cases in medical history have their roots in sound and explainable science-- people, illnesses, and scenarios are not random, after all.

and olivia wilde is just freakin' gorgeous.

new: Asian helper

I am all about easy cooking. tonight, I let Betty Crocker lend me a hand with Asian Helper's chicken fried rice. you too can find this little kitchen friend in your local grocery store. in Albertsons, it is located in the boxed dinners (do not search for it next to the soy sauce and seaweed, as logical and tempting as it is).







I am no stranger to hamburger and chicken helper. I love the cheesy enchilada helper, and I am surprised that ol Betty hasn't launched a line of Mexican-- oh, excuse me, Latino-- Helper to stack next to Italian Helper (you mean the lasagna helper is trying to pass as american food?! gasp!) and Lazy Ass at-least-this-isnt-mcdonalds Helper. I am sure glad that the chicken fried rice box that I bought tonight for $1 was labeled Asian though-- I wouldn't want consumers mistakenly buying something so obviously ethnic and thinking it was just a version of middle-class, white American 3 cheese macaroni.

I mixed up some of my own ingredients:





and 30 minutes later, I had chicken fried rice! I was sooo helped by the Asian!





my tastebuds approve! although, I'm pretty sure ultra-authentic panda express still takes the prize for best fried rice.

then I noticed my meal was missing something. oh no! I forgot the egg!





then it was even better.





try it out. maybe next time I'll live on the edge and get Mongolian-style beef-- not to be confused with the real Mongolian beef... it's just the style...





I AM ASIAN HELPER!!!
and so can you.

summer day 86

I watched "Harry Brown" and indulged in some pasta today.





Michael Caine's British movie is definitely not for kids--but like most things in life, the bloody revenge tale made me think.

I've never been more supportive of the American Constitutional right to bear arms. I am no NRA member and I try to refrain from public political statements, but I will ask you this: if someone came to your home with the intent to set fire on your doorstep or if you frequently walked a street filled with cocaine dealers raping girls in nearby tunnels, would you appreciate the opportunity to protect yourself? and the people you love?

this is just something to think about.

think think... think think...

my head feels cluttered lately, as if the useless thoughts are impeding budding questions from breaking through the ever-rising compost pile.  so let's dig a little, shall we?

- currently, boise is experiencing 70 mph winds. KTVB just reported a fire and power outages in the area.  almost 2 years ago, dear mary ellen ryder passed away in a house fire due to strong winds on an august afternoon.  god and i were on tenuous terms prior to ME's tragic death; i fear that now i may never be able to accept someone as my savior who would allow (will?) such a brilliant, inspiring, and bright woman to perish in such a violent and disturbing way.  yet, makers and sellers of child porn will sleep soundly in their beds tonight, mildly perturbed by the sounds of rattling wind chimes and leaky doors.

- after a recent conversation with a self-proclaimed liberal (*insert rolling eyes*), i am even more convinced that elitism suffers unfairly from society's gradual assignment of its negative connotation.  aforementioned a-hole-- i mean, "liberal dude"-- mourned the absence of certain activities in the world olympics.  he maintained that skateboarding was truly worthy of olympian sport status.  isn't curling embarrassing enough?  think about it: one 14-year-old girl can run, catapult herself over a gymnastics horse, twirl mid-air, twirl again mid-air, and land on her feet-- all in a matter of 2 seconds-- and yet she is just in the company of a curling olympian who shares a medal too.  sweeping... flipping and twisting midair on snow skis down a steep slope of ice... sweeping...???  congratulations, mediocrity.  you've made excellence a bad word.

- i love my iphone 3g, but i think apple has purposely gutted its very life from my loving palms; rosie is noticeably slower and stupider, and i attribute her slow assent from the technology pedestal to iOS4's 15 minutes of fame.

- while i admire lady gaga's dedication to her music career, i cannot help but continue to doubt god's so-called dominion over the world's affairs after reading gaga's reaction to her record-breaking 13 VMA nominations: "God put me on earth for 3 reasons: to make loud music, gay videos, and cause a damn raucous."  like, thumbs up, lady... but we could really use someone to, oh, you know, cure cancer, solve food shortage problems, and bring back grammar lessons as the cool thing to do.

- if one claims to be an unique individual and another one claims to be an individual and so forth, does that mean that all those individuals are just part of one giant conglomerate mass of uniformity-- thus negating their individual status?

- each day, i become more and more comfortable with my refusal to breed.

summer day 30

this is an old picture but it's basically what my fridge looks like right now. I hate grocery shopping. hate.

summer day 12

this is what I do sometimes. and who I am sometimes. and where I am sometimes. and why I am the way I am sometimes.

summer day 3

dear giant moth that attacked my scentsy warmer, this is what happens when you choose light over dark. sucker. RIP, Andrea.

may hit me one more time.

subtitle: in defense of brit brit.

i am not ashamed to admit that i like britney spears. in fact, i will even stand up for her. i've never met the girl, but i don't think she deserves as much crap as she's given. sure, her music is a little processed (but she listens to radiohead). and yes, she almost dropped her kid on the ground (but who hasn't?). oh, and there was the whole marrying a giant LOSER deal (but we all have skeletons in our closet).

britney stole my heart back in 1999 when she released "...baby one more time." she danced around in a little schoolgirl outfit and moped on the bleachers. i think i first really fell for her after watching a video of brit at dance practice for "hit me"s video. she was wearing a white sports bra and her hair flipped thisway and thatway-- i mean, most high school students (she was only 18 when her first album was released) couldn't manage a homework assignment, much less multiple dance routines, lyrics, and a skin-tight-tight-wardrobe-approved body. even if her music was less than stellar according to music enthusiasts (read: snobs), ...baby one more time has sold over 14 million records in the US alone. maybe the schoolgirl outfit was just too genuis.

her second album, oops!...i did it again was also very successful-- and i was pleased to hear that britney had grown up a little. she emerged in a full-body red latex suit in her video "oops! i did it again" and mocked titanic and all the sudden, brit brit was hawt.
she was everywhere. the tabloids. magazine covers. with justin timberlake. amidst rumors she wasn't a virgin. OMG she pierced her belly button. umm the vegas wedding to childhood sweetheart. and a whole bunch of other stuff. and then.
kevin federline. back up dancer. 2004. engaged after 3 months. his ex was 8 months preggo. but whatevs. it was love. married 10/6/2004.

and then they had 2 kids. and she got, like, so fat. and then they divorced in november 2006. and then, you know. she went "crazy"-- attacking paparazzi with an umbrella and shaving her head and having breakdowns and whatnot. yah, this happened:

but, come on. she married the supposed love of her life without a pre-nup, and they broke up (reportedly) over text messaging. the media constantly photographed her looking terrible (read: chunky and worn out). she started partying with paris and flashing the media (accidentally of course). there were rumors of a sex tape. she was denounced "bipolar." and her comeback failed. even though, seriously, she looks a hell of a lot better than most girls out there who manage to have boyfriends and stuff.


but, come on. failed relationships suck. failed career moves suck. failed parenting sucks.

imagine the world laughing at you. imagine the world reading about your mistakes through the sarcastic, bitter tone of people like perez hilton. imagine your parents admitting that you're a disappointment. imagine being constantly compared to who you used to be, years and years ago. have you ever had a bad haircut? have you ever driven without a seatbelt? have you ever made some bad drinking choices?

have you released 6 albums and 4 eps? have you starred on a hit TV show playing a hot secretary? have you posed for rolling stone's COVER 7 times? have you created and sold a perfume line? have you walked across your own star on the hollywood walk of fame? have you ever looked like this good in leather pants and wig:
have you been the most searched person for the year on google and set guinness world records? have you made out with madonna? have you ever performed for a superbowl half-time show? have you toured the world 5 times sharing your life's work with millions of people that relate to you, that understand what you've been through, that can only imagine how much you've sacrificed to have what you have, that really could never grasp how absolutely awesome it is to be you?
naw, that's britney, bitch.

an attempt at reflection:

suddenly, i simultaneously resemble the grudge-holding, slightly neurotic character of billy (vincent gallo) and the people-pleasing, filled with ennui character of layla (christina ricci) in buffalo '66.

let's start with layla. (if this was an academic paper, i'd be criticized for reverse the order of items in my "thesis." well, this isn't academia. i hope you're okay with that.) layla goes about her own business, happily tap-dancing in class before she is kidnapped in the hallway by billy. he covers her mouth. he pulls her hair. billy "coerces" her into her car (which consisted of yelling, mostly), which she drives to his parents' house (because he can't drive a "shifter") and is introduced as his significant other. for the rest of the movie, she goes to a diner with him, goes bowling, gets a hotel room, and basically becomes his "reason" for life. layla is swept away by a crazy person who--only hours earlier--was just released from prison. she has choices, she has outs, but she doesn't take them. and it's not like billy is prince charming; he bosses her around. right before meeting his parents, billy said, "if you make me look bad, i'll never talk to you again. ever." right before billy leaves the hotel, she pleads with him to come back. "i love you," she says. billy mesmerizes her. she understands him.

here's the analysis part (again, if this was an academic paper, i'd be criticized for exposing my "skeleton" and intentions with explicit verbal cues instead of just getting to it): i've lately been wrestling with my own derailment from my seemingly content, bubble-like life as a student, friend, and daughter. you know: the usual. i wasn't whole-heartedly dedicated to continuing my education or to constructing an life independent from other people (like friends, or my parents' expectations, or the desire to be in a relationship with a boy). i let the newness of graduation freedom, the fear of confrontation, and my own passive personality sweep in and forge a new direction for my life. i didn't even throw a fit. i let billy in.

billy-- a character that simply could NOT be played by anyone BUT vincent gallo-- was semi-wronged by a strip club owner that he spends nearly the entire movie trying to track down so he can blow his brains out. he's mentally, emotionally, and physically cut off from the world. socially awkward. slightly violent. self-destructive. a thinker. in some ways, billy tries to reason with societal acceptance. he puts on a show for his parents (including his football-obsessed mother played by angelica huston) in hopes they'll break out of their prejudices to acknowledge him as he is. layla tries to hold his hand to put on the front that they are a happy couple for his parents, and billy freaks out. "we are a couple that doesn't touch," he scolds. when he's released from prison, he asks if he can go back inside. the world according to billy is full of goons and smelly people. he shows some semblance of feeling by buying layla a chocolate milk at the donut shop. he's not entirely unredeemable. he's just billy.

billy is not entirely rational. he makes decisions based on deep-seeded revenge and rebellion. i've been skeptical about the goodness of humanity for a while now, and many different events in life confirm for me that people just plain suck. my unemployment has caused more than one person to explode with anger; one even told me that i am "the greatest disappointment" of her life. at the time, i didn't think this statement would affect me so profoundly. but it has. i'm a disappointment? then 1) what it takes to not disappoint someone is clearly beyond my means, and 2) fine, i'll show you a frickin disappointment. another certain someone in my life criticizes me for not acknowledging his actions, when his words (and philosophies on relationships, interactions between men/women, etc.) often undermine and contradict what he does. like billy, peoples' outward actions mean nothing to me unless they are backed with a true, legitimate character beneath. i don't know what it means anymore to be loved. or to love. my heart is cold.

yet, despite that coldness, i still seek acceptance. i want the people in my life to accept me, to advise me in productive ways, and to desire me not based on what they think i can be. i'm flawed. so are you.

so what? perhaps we all have conflicting aspects to our personalities: sometimes one screws up, one tries to console the other, both aren't strong enough (or viable enough) to exist as independent entities. they depend on each other.

or perhaps some of us have it figured out. i'm not one of those people.

tell me what you don't like about yourself.

a few years ago, i unassumingly flipped through television channels and stopped: on my screen in a dashing blue collared shirt, dr. christian troy pouted with his perfectly shaped bottom lip to his plastic surgery partner sean mcnamara about sucking the fat out of a size 2. words like "ethics" blurred with the sound of expensive shiny shoes tapping on the floor. a gorgeous white lamp glowed in the background.

when i subscribed to netflix, i browsed through the TV section (bad bad bad bad idea), and found "nip/tuck." i added all seasons. approximately 3 months later, i've watched all four seasons, or approximately 24 discs, or roughly 72 episodes.

let me attempt to explain how i could fall so in love with ryan murphy's brilliant show about plastic surgery in south beach, miami (even though it's actually filmed in los angeles):

1. the characters are dramatic but three dimensional. christian is a womanizer (oh. womanizer. oh.) but was sexually abused as a foster child by his father. sean tries to fix his son conor's disability because he, at one point in time, suffered from a physical abnormality that caused his parents to divorce. ava is really a man. and julia is beautiful, smart, and tragic.

2. after watching a DVD extra on the set design for "nip/tuck," i can't stop craving cold furniture, circular reflection ponds, and green & gray together. everything about this show's sets makes me dreamy.

3. you learn valuable lessons like: don't take blood money from drug lords because bad people like escobar gallardo will demand a facial reconstruction and then point a gun at your head, don't take a pretty face home from a bar or you may wake up without a kidney, and don't believe a man's rating system-- an 8 is wonderful.

4. joely richardson is magnificent. i love her. l.o.v.e her.

5. speaking of miss joely, john hensley is actually only 12 years younger than joely-- even though he plays her 18-year-old son on the show.

6. gerbils shit. a lot. and flushing them down the toilet is not a good idea.

7. just when i think i am numb and can't possibly be moved by anything, "nip/tuck" explores the devastating effects of alzheimers and a dedicated wife who undergoes intense surgery to look 20 years younger so her sick husband will recognize her. and julia decides to leave sean (again) but runs back to him outside the airport and whispers: "i love you, you know" as she wraps her slender arms around his neck. and christian is raped-- by a man.

8. everyone has flaws. some you can't see; others you can; all are what make us human.

i'm not in denial... i just refuse to listen to your truth.

i graduate in approximately 9 days. in 9 days, i could drive across the country. in 9 days, i could listen to "brighter discontent" by the submarines over 3,103 times. in 9 days, i will be unemployed.

my impending poverty makes me question my recent purchases that could have provided 6 months of groceries, like the above betsey johnson dress. add the ed hardy watch and you're approaching 8. add the nina shoes and you're at 10. add my diamond necklace and you're at 2.5 years. all for one outfit. (i'll insert here that the black shrug was only $6 on clearance at vanity!) the occassion that calls for such extravagance: the 4th annual english majors association banquet.

nevermind that the theme of said banquet was "the great depression." boxes of baking soda, mac and cheese, and canned corn were the centerpieces. a brown, worn boot accepted donations.

two of my friends' fathers have been laid off in the past week. another friend works 2 jobs and complains about the whiny "masters holders" that work at starbucks with her. the career center rep from BSU bemoans the sudden dearth of off-campus job postings.

i'd like to think that even albertson's needs someone to arrange the red, shiny apples just right. or some lazy CEO needs a girl to staple his revised budget reports and proposed productivity increases. or bath and body works needs an "elf" in a green apron to offer product scents and squirts of lotion.

leave me to my denial. let me bask in the glory of unfulfilled expectations. it's nothing that i'm not used to.