Scenes from a Grocery Store Tuesday, Apr 15 2008 

So clearly, I’m under some stress right now and I realize that I have not been dealing with it well AT ALL…insomnia, stress eating, avoidance, lots of tears.  Yesterday, I used this technique where I write down some positive steps to help me and put it somewhere that I can see it.  Here was my list:

- Cook and eat better.

- Try to exercise.

- Go to bed earlier.

- No caffeine after 5 p.m.

Good start, right?  I focused on the whole cook and eat better, and decided I wanted to get all gourmet and found a recipe for Lemon Rosemary Salmon and another for Roasted Green and White Asparagus.  After work I hit the fancy downtown grocery store near my apartment to pick up all the necessities. 

Let me interject that I love grocery stores, LOVE THEM, and I love fancy food and I love shopping for new ingredients and it sometimes amazes me how much money I can spend relative to the small amount of items I actually take home.  So let’s just say I dropped a bit of coin on fish and asparagus and two kinds of berries and whipping cream (for dessert) and random other things, including two kitchen tools I needed to assist me with this meal.  All of my stuff fit in one rather overstuffed paper bag.

Except you know what wasn’t in the bag when I got home and changed and checked my e-mail and finally got around to unpacking said bag?  THE SALMON.  There it was on my receipt, all $7.81 of it, but IT WAS STILL AT THE STORE. 

This has become, like, a constant theme in my life.  This is the second time that this particular grocery store has charged me for something that I didn’t have when I arrived at home, and I’ve dealt with the same issues with my local Target, including LESS THAN A WEEK AGO, when I had to go back to the store to recoup nearly $30 of merchandise and even after that I still didn’t realize that my mother’s birthday card was not there anyway. 

I called the fancy grocery store and they were all, “Okay, come on back.”  Well yeah, except that I was already in my comfy clothes and going back to this store involves a parking garage and an elevator and you can’t just run right back in.  And while they have a delivery service, they didn’t have a driver there but they could drop off my salmon tomorrrow. 

Do you know what was not on my little stress management list?  Avoid totally freaking out when something goes wrong.  I HAD A GODDAMN HISSY FIT ABOUT THIS STUPID SALMON.

When I did make it back to the store, two or three employees and fellow customers were all, “Oh, you left it here?”

Me: “NO, I did not leave it here, I was never GIVEN the salmon.  The salmon was never in my posession, it’s not like I abandoned it like an unwanted pet, IT WAS KIDNAPPED!  All I wanted was a nice dinner and you ruined it!”

Okay, those weren’t my exact words but that was the gist of it and yeahhhhh, I clearly overreacted about the whole situation.  In the end I got the salmon and I cooked everything and it all tasted pretty good and I felt a little better. 

But if you ever see someone in a grocery store parking lot, unpacking every single bag and comparing her items to what’s on the receipt, it’s probably me.

Ahh, College Days Friday, Apr 11 2008 

On Sunday I will be gathering all my little sorority chickadees together (I’m the advisor) for a “workshop” on “risk.”  Which basically translates as, “Please do not do all these stupid, stupid things.  Because of  liability and rules and laws and such.  And also because they are bad.”

Which makes me feel just a lil’ bit hypocritical.  Because y’all, it’s not like I’m a saint or anything.  I mean, I was a pretty good kid in high school and didn’t even have an alcoholic drink till my freshman year in college.  I’ve never smoked and I’ve never done drugs.  But I can assure you that waaay back when I was a college girl, I certainly flirted with some “risk” “management” “issues.” 

Like this particular incident my senior year.  When I was the chapter president.

We decided we wanted to have a party and get a male stripper.  No, I don’t really remember why.  We may have discussed this in a meeting.  We all pooled our money (at least it wasn’t sorority money!) and someone went out and hired a stripper and got her boyfriend to buy us lots of alcohol.  (Why?  Because not one of us was 21, ironically.)  

On the appointed night we went to her townhouse.  I think we thought the stripper was coming dressed as a cop (?) and we ordered pizza and the “Pizza Guy” showed up, who of course turned out to be the stripper.  And lo, it was totally icky and awkward.  To cope with all this weirdness, I began to drink rather a lot. 

After the stripper was finished stripping, he went upstairs with a couple girls to smoke pot.  And I was hanging out outside with some of the other girls and someone asked me to hold their lit cigarette and I took a big puff because I had never smoked before, and it was gross.  So I drank some more (not like, beer or anything, no we were hard core with our vodka and various mixers). 

Eventually we headed back to campus and there was a party in one of the halls so we decided to stop by.  We traipsed across campus with a backpack full of vodka, because that was how everyone walked around on Friday and Saturday nights, with backpacks on like they were really going to the library or something, rather than carrying around two six-packs in their L.L. Bean gear. 

So we were hanging out in this dark dorm suite with loud music and even though I went to a really small school, I’m not sure I actually knew anyone there.  Or maybe there was someone there I had a crush on?  The solution?  Drink more vodka.   Except, crisis, we didn’t have anything to mix it with.  Or chase it with. 

Then someone brilliantly suggested we chase it with WATER.  Like, I have no idea how that was supposed to help, but we thought it might.  And oh, I was so very drunk by then.  Eventually, my sorority little sister managed to convince me that we should go back to our suite and she would make me something to eat.  Something Pillsbury, I think, from one of those cans that pops open (biscuits?). 

I drunk-dailed (or actually, drunk-paged) a guy  who I had a weird “more than friends” relationship with and  may still have been on the phone with him when I decided that maybe I should go hang out on the cool tile floor of our bathroom instead. 

And that’s the night that I got sick from drinking too much for the first time ever.  A story I will certainly not be sharing with my chickadees. 

Please to Give Me Job? Thursday, Apr 10 2008 

A Drama in Many, Many More Parts Than Anyone Could Possibly Care About, Except It Clearly Should Be Recorded For Posterity

Cast of Characters:

New Job – Organization located somewhere in the vicinity of Mardi Gras land

Current Job – Belongs to the same big organization as New Job, but different geographical location

Girl – That would be me

Act I: (6-ish Weeks Ago)

New Job: We want you to take this job. Here is what we will pay you.

Girl: I will take new job.

New Job: Can you start tomorrow, seeing as how you are already here and everything?

Current Job: NO. Girl, you are out of your mind. Oh, and P.S. Your Current Boss is leaving as well. And you are ruining everything, selfish girl.

New Job: We will wait.

Act 2:

Girl: Am taking new job. Am moving! La la la…very soon! Just waiting on all that official stuff.

(Girl waits. And waits. And waits some more.)

Current Job: Here, we will be all passive-aggressive about this whole situation. Bah.

Act 3:

New Job: Tiny, tiny problem. Just need you to re-do your resume, quick-like.

(Girl complies.)

Current Job: What the frack is going on, anyway?

Girl: Just a tiny, tiny problem which I have already corrected. News will come any day now. Am moving!

Girl’s Friends and Family: What the frack is going on, anyway?

Girl: Moving! Really! Yet I cannot do anything moving-like, because it is not quite yet all official. MOVING!

(Girl runs out of work to do. Because clearly this will all be resolved any day now and then she will certainly be out the door, no?)

(Girl totally gives up on any moving-like activities, in the fear of jinxing everything.)

Act 4:

Girl: New Job, what is the hold up now?

New Job: Hold up seems to be on your end.

Current Job: We’ll get around to returning that call someday.

(Girl waits.)

(New Job waits.)

(Radio silence.)

Act 5:

Girl: HALLELUJAH! Is official “tentative job offer” e-mail. We are getting somewhere now!

(Fills out 2 quick pieces of paperwork and returns them post-haste.)

Girl: Hello? Hmm, wonder what next step is.

Friends and Family: WHAT THE FRACK IS GOING ON? Are you just joking about this whole “moving” thing?

Girl: But see, I got an e-mail. All official-like. Things are happening!

(Universe laughs and laughs.)

Act 6:

New Job: We hear there are “issues.” We understand you have to make a “decision.” Please choose us. We love you and are eagerly looking forward to working you into a pile of mush for the next 3 – 5 years.

Girl: Gah, “Issues”? I don’t know what the issues are. “Decision”? I already MADE my decision, back in Act 1. Am very, very confused. Also, frustrated.

Current Job: Oh yeah, there are some issues. We will finally decide to make you aware of them. And the issues are totally ours and not yours. Your leaving screws us over in a manner that you were not aware of. You are totally irreplaceable and work in an office full of morons.

Girl: And this is my fault how, exactly?

Current Job: New Job, you cannot have the Girl unless you come up with a new plan.

Act 7 (Present Day):

Girl: Yo, this is bullshit. Who is supposed to be watching out for ME? Who will speak up for the poor Girl?? Let me call HR.

(HR totally ignores Girl.)

New Job: We’re going to try something else.

(RADIO SILENCE from all parties involved.)

Girl: Do not mind me, co-workers, am just going to sit over here at desk until brain actually explodes.

(Co-Workers could not care less about Girl’s predicament, except that the Princess is insisting upon a farewell party and it cannot be planned it until we know when she’s actually leaving. Or IF for that matter.)

(Girl ponders future career as Starbucks Barista. Already knows the lingo!)

(Girl stress eats. COOKIES!)

(Girl wastes time writing blog entry. Because really, what else is there to do at this point??)

Girl at the Movies: Leatherheads Monday, Apr 7 2008 

George Clooney is hot.

John Krasinski is hot.

In this movie, George Clooney and John Krasinski were both hot.  They got muddy and sweaty on the football field.  They punched each other.  They exchanged snappy, witty banter with Renee Zellweger, whom I love, although I think that may be an unpopular opinion nowadays.  I’m not sure. 

Renee Zellweger wore pretty vintage clothes and kooky hats.  She was one of those little girl reporters with moxy and spunk who gets to show up her male colleagues a time or two. 

Screwball comedy abounded.  John’s sleeve caught on fire.  George fell off his motorcycle.  Renee and George dressed up like police and pretended to be suicidal to escape being caught in a speakeasy. 

It was all very light and fun and a little meandering but mostly entertaining. 

Did I mention George Clooney?  And John Krasinski?  Being all hot??  Because they were.  That right there was worth the price of admission.  If you appreciate the hotness of George or John, go see it.

If you don’t, there may be something wrong with you.

The End.