Tag Archives: grocery shopping

The Internet Thinks I Like Justin Bieber

26 Mar

This is a rant about the internet.

So I, like most people, mostly enjoy the internet.  Obviously, I have an internet presence.  The internet, thanks to this blog, knows all about my period and that time I wiped my ass with my left hand in a small little bathroom in Lima.  One day, I swear, I am going to go to a job interview and they are going to tell me that I was never actually considered for the position but they wanted to see the face of the idiot who consistently shares stories about her own stupidity, as if anyone even fucking cares anyway.  Yup, they are going to laugh me out of the office and give me a roll of toilet paper as a sort of  going away present.  This has gotten entirely off track.

The internet.  So this is sort of how I feel about the internet.  Okay, so, I really like to go grocery shopping.  I find grocery stores to be highly organized, which I enjoy.  I also like to think about the hierarchy of product placement and about how the ways that companies get stores to place their food directly impacts the buying habits of American shoppers.  It’s cool to think about but also sort of depressing because it’s like, goddamnit we are so susceptible to bullshit.  Anyway, the grocery store has long been one of my favorite places to go.  Don’t believe me?  Ask my mom.  She’ll tell you.  And you would think that, since I love grocery stores and because I am an American, that the bigger the grocery store the better!  You would be wrong.  When I come upon an extra large grocery store I am initially really excited about it.  All the aisles, the products, the people watching, the unnecessary diversity of cereals and ice creams.  But I find those really big grocery stores to be incredibly overwhelming.  It’s like, I walk in, stroll through a few aisles, then experience sensory overload, forget what I needed to buy (even if I have thought in advance and made a list!) and flee through the automatic doors.  It’s just too much.  That is sort of how I feel about the internet.  I have my few pages that I frequent, and then I’m like,

God, the internet is so boring.  There is nothing to do here!

so I try and find some new places and all of a sudden I have like 25 tabs open concerning all these things that I didn’t know existed that all of a sudden I just have to know about.  And inevitably some percentage of those things are evil.  Like, I was reading about this woman who faked her own pregnancy and somehow ended up on the webpage of one of those people who thinks homosexuality can be cured through prayer.  I would have left the room screaming if I wasn’t in my own damn bedroom and the only place to go in my current outfit was the kitchen from where I would have to eventually return.  I closed the tab.  It’s like, the internet is a long hallway with all these doors and you literally never know what is going to be behind the door when you open it.  It might be a really pleasant looking door, with pictures of Dan Rydell on the front, but then you open it and BAM it’s like Rush Limbaugh’s fan group’s headquarters.  Or something.  But the thing about the internet is that for as much as you don’t know about it, it knows everything about you.  Or so it thinks.

This is actually what I set out to write about before I went all crazy with grocery store analogies and Rush Limbaugh fan groups.

Okay, so, the internet tracks the things that you do on so that it can plaster whatever page you are visiting with an ad about Made Well jeans because sometimes, when you are feeling a little sad and like your wardrobe sucks, you peruse the Made Well webpage and look at clothing you can’t afford.  Which, as you can imagine, only makes you feel sadder and more like your wardrobe sucks.  But then it’s like, you can’t even choose when you want to do that because it is everywhere.  Want to research the Genocide Convention for an article you are writing? Made Well jeans.  Want to look up the Quechuan word for avocado (it’s palta, FYI)?  Made Well jeans.  Want to watch the highest scoring beam routine at the Jesolo gymnastics meet?  You guessed it, Made Well jeans.  You get the picture.  So meanwhile, as you are being absolutely inundated with advertisements for luxury clothing items, Twitter can’t seem to come up with hashtags that actually relate to things you would be interested in reading about.  It has this trending thing, whereby it theoretically takes information about the people you are following combined with your location and then suggests a whole bunch of hashtags that might be of interest to you.  So, I follow a whole bunch of feminists and a few of my good friends (most of whom are feminists) and Twitter suggests #2YearsofBoyfriend which is a hashtag about Justin Bieber’s song that I have never even heard before (I had to look it up to see what the hell the hashtag even meant).  It also suggested #GetWellJimKelly and #CrappySnacks.  I just don’t know.

And then there is LinkedIn.  Now this is really weird.  So I used to work at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay in midtown.  The restaurant was located in the lobby of The London hotel.  The hotel had this doorman named Collin who was really nice who I used to always talk to. Collin and I never interacted on the internet.  I never put on my LinkedIn profile that I worked at Gordon Ramsay (I don’t think I even had a LinkedIn profile back then) and yet, the other day it suggested that I connect with Collin even though we had absolutely no shared connections!  How did it know?!  How can it connect me to some random doorman with whom I have had absolutely no electronic communication and yet elsewhere on the internet it thinks I give a damn about Justin Bieber?!  I literally do not understand.  I do not understand and I also find myself pretty damn terrified.

I just don’t know, you guys.  The internet.  It like knows everything and nothing at once.  Sometimes I think maybe I should just like exit the internet and go live in a cave somewhere (or just my bedroom only this time with no online access).  Then maybe I could go meet my friend out at a bar without this guy threatening to laugh in my face.

When Life Gives You Lemons…

17 Oct

It has been a particularly warm fall here in New York City. So warm, in fact, that today, October 17th, I am sitting here at my desk wearing shorts and a tank top.  You might ask why I am not outside, traipsing around, enjoying the weather.  Well, for your information I already did that.  And I will do it again just as soon as I finish writing this blog.  Moving on.

This past Tuesday, after doing the important morning things (coffee, snacks, newspaper reading) I decided to go out in the world and have myself an adventure.  I wandered down fifth avenue and then I said to myself, “self, today is the perfect day to go admire some furniture you cannot afford.”  So I walked down 9th Street to Find, my favorite unaffordable furniture store, where I found the most beautiful mirror I have ever seen in my life.  So beautiful that I took photographs of it.  Photographs that I will not post here because if one of you sees it, loves it, and then goes and buys it I would be so jealous that I don’t think I would be able to be your friend anymore.  After ogling the mirror for some time, and then wondering to myself how much I could get the store owner to lower the price if I paid in cash, I went on my merry way down to Red Hook to visit Fairway for the first time since it reopened post-Sandy. I love Fairway.  Mostly, I love grocery stores and it is the biggest one with the most things (smoked salmon ends!  HUGE pickle bar!  All of the cheese!) so I love it the most.  On my way there, and just as I was approaching the Added-Value Community Farm, a pick-up truck made a right hand turn in front of me.  As they went into their turn, the passenger leaned out of the window and yelled

“You can walk all over me in those boots any day, baby!”

They subsequently sped off, leaving me alone, on the side of the road, wearing my boots, face as red as a lobster.  There I was having a perfectly wonderful Rebekah afternoon when some motherfuckers in a pick-up truck have to go and piss all over it.  I stormed the rest of the way to Fairway, thinking mean thoughts.

Upon arriving and seeing the vast array of vegetables, the anger started to melt away.  And then I saw them: papaya chunks!  I know that they are not endemic to New York and that some people think they taste like vomit, but I love them and they remind me of happier times.  So, I grabbed them, thought about the other things I wanted to buy and then realized I was in dire need of a basket.  I quickly stashed my papaya chunks on top of one of those wire coupon racks when I saw the most wonderful sight:  the assholes from the pick-up truck walked right by me into the store.  It was like a gift from above.

My mind started racing.  What should I do?  Should I say something?  Then my heart rate picked up.  I knew there was no way I would let myself leave that grocery store without giving them a piece of my mind.  I wandered around, plucking things off the shelves — salmon ends, some soy sauce, black licorice — trusting that whatever had delivered these upstanding individuals to me would insure that we crossed paths at an opportune moment.  And then, it happened. I went to check out and, wouldn’t you know it, they got in the line right next to me!  I was hoping that the timing would work out and that I would finish checking out first, head out the door, and then wait for them like a creeper outside to let them know what was what.  In the meantime, I figured I would give them the stink eye.  I have a really good stink eye.  But then the thing that always happens to me happened.  I picked the slowest checkout line ever and so, despite having gotten in line first and having fewer items, the two men headed out the door.  My only recourse was to burn holes in the backs of their heads with my eyes.  I felt defeated.  Saddened.

But then, I had a realization!  They have a car.  And a rolling cart which, after being unloaded, needs to be returned to its home.  My spirits immediately improved.  When I was done paying for my items I headed quickly out to the parking lot and, lo and behold, there was the maroon pick-up from some 45 minutes earlier.  I strode defiantly across the parking lot, eyes glued to the offending dude wearing those stupid reflective sunglasses that should only be warn by actors playing police officers on television.  He was wearing a wedding ring.  Of course.  When he looked at me and acknowledge my rapid approach I slowed down, smiled and said:

“Maybe next time you decide to yell your opinion on someone’s outfit out your car window, you will consider the fact that you might see her at the grocery store 10 minutes later.”

I stayed long enough to see the shock register on his face, turned on my heel, and walked in the direction of my house, huge grin plastered on my face.  It was the moment I have waited for.  I felt like a super hero.

Just as a little extra something to make you laugh, today when trying to send a text with the word “city” in it my phone inexplicably autocorrected it to “butt.”  I was really happy I caught that one.  Otherwise the text would have read:

“You leaving the butt now?”

I have been laughing for at least 10 minutes.