Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

09 February 2012

Pet Peevishly

I hate grocery shopping.  Hate it.  Hate it with the hatred that I generally reserve for mayonnaise and doing laundry.

I have all kinds of issues with grocery stores... I don't like how they smell, I don't like buying loose produce that thousands of other people have touched with their germy hands (I read one time all these statistics about shaking hands, like 14 out of 20 men don't wash their hands after they use the bathroom, 8 out of 20 people don't wash their hands after masturbating, 15 out of 20 people don't wash their hands after blowing their noses... I mean, ewwww.  I'm also totally pulling those statistics out of my ass, so don't quote me on it in case you're writing a thesis about disgusting things that people do without washing their hands), I don't like touching the handles on shopping carts, and I have a tendency to get lost whilst roaming up and down the aisles.  Therefore, I wind up zig-zagging and wasting a whole lot of time going back and forth, trying to find the things on the gd list that Dan insists I make before leaving the house.

I hate making lists.

It offends my innate Sagittarianism.  I don't want to have a freaking list.  I want to throw caution to the wind and throw random shit into my cart and try to figure out what to do with it at some later date.  I'm all, "Don't tie me down, man.  I've gotta fly."

Dan, on the other hand, is all about the Almighty List.

I'll say, "Could you pick up some dog food on your way home from work tomorrow?  Oh, and some toilet paper?"

And he'll say, "Make a list!"

It's two freaking things.  Two.  

I'm not making a list.

So he makes one.  I'm so totally not kidding.

And I can't even beGIN to explain how much that irritates me.

Anyway, back to the store.

I'd like to know who decides how to lay out a grocery store.  Explain to me, please, why the detergent aisle is between the soda aisle and the snack aisle?

Why are the toilet paper, paper towels, paper plates, and napkins mixed in with soup and juice?

Why are soup and juice in the same aisle?

Why is Smart Water placed in an aisle marked "New Age Beverages"??  What the frig is a New Age Beverage, for God's own sweet sake???

New Age Beverage.

I mean, what... they didn't have water back in the old days?

For some reason, that really pissed me off today while I was stomping through the Price Chopper.  I'm pretty sure I said it outloud:  "What the fuck is a New Age Beverage?"

Ahh... I get it!  It's something we mix with dish soup and ant poison!

It angered me to the degree that I didn't buy Smart Water.  Which is my favorite water, like, ever.  One of the best ways to my heart is to bring me a box of Good n Plentys and a bottle of Smart Water.  It makes me so, so happy.


I'm almost positive that it also makes me smarter, every time I drink it.  

So today I was fiendishly trying to remain within my oh-so-small grocery budget for the week.  I suck at math, and I have limited ability to stay focused (because I was so busy being irked about the New Age Beverage crap).  This led to me putting items into my cart, standing in the middle of the aisle trying to mentally add up how much it all came to, wandering into another aisle, adding something else, mentally trying to calculate how much it all came to, wandering back to the previous aisle to put something back because I didn't add it up correctly in my head...

It was soooo much workkkk.

I was exhausted by the time I finished.

Price Chopper is one of those stores that gives you a discount card that the cashier swipes when you check out your groceries, which gives in-store discounts and also saves money on gas at some random gas station nearby.  Long story short, I promptly lost my card within 20 seconds of receiving it, so I have one of those stupid little plastic dealies attached to my key ring that they scan instead.  (Or I can type my phone number into the debit card thing.  Which is also a problem, because I don't remember what phone number I used when I filled out the application.  So I stand there, stupidly, punching in six different phone numbers while the cashier and everyone else in line assumes that I'm an imposter and the real Danielle Geer is standing in line at another Price Chopper, wondering who bogarted her club card savings.)  If I say I don't have a card, they try to make me apply for another one.  So I generally just hand over my keys so they can scan my key thingy.

Except today?

I couldn't find my keys.

I knew they'd ask for my card.  I knew that.  I even told myself before entering the store to make sure I had my keys out when I got to the checkout because they were going to ask me for it before they started ringing up my groceries and we didn't want another fiasco where I couldn't find my card.

So instead, I waited until she was ringing me up and asked, "Do you have a club card?"

Me:  "Oh, yeah... hang on..."

Cashier:  *looking over my left shoulder, more bored than anyone anywhere has a right to be*

Me:  *frantically scrounging through my enormous fucking purse*

Cashier:  *sighing and staring over the top of my head*

Me:  *clawing through receipts, chap stick, lip gloss, sunglasses, loose change, nail file, nail glue, gloves, scarf, gum, lip plumper, random shit tossed haphazardly into the abyss...*

Cashier:  *staring at her fingernails, which fyi?  Were bitten to the cuticle and in desperate need of professional intervention*

Me:  *starting to sweat and trying not to get distracted by her disgusting fingernails*

Cashier:  *ohhhhhh soooo bored*  "What's your phone number?"

Me:  "Hang on... I know it's in here..."

Cashier:  *sighing... sighing... sighinggggg...*

People in line behind me:  *beginning to get restless*


Seriously, this went on and on until I finally told her to just ring me up without the card. 

She did.  And 8 seconds after she gave me my total, I found my keys.

I handed them over triumphantly.

Apparently, this was a giant pain in her ass because she had to call over someone from customer service to unlock her fucking register, swipe my card, reset the balance...
Ohhhh myyyyy GODDDDDD.

Dear Karma,

I give up.  

I'm really, really sorry for the time that I laughed myself stupid at Dan's expense at Torero's when the waiter asked if he wanted corn or flour tortillas with his fajitas and Dan misunderstood him and said, "Yes please... I'd like diet Pepsi."

You're right.  Laughing myself into a pants wetting asthma attack may have been uncalled for.

I promise I'll quit bringing it up at family gatherings.