In the dark.

Why am I just now finding out about this?

Family Affair.

In the final leg of the "spoil Kristen" tour of November 2009, my dad took me grocery shopping today.  I'm a pretty savvy grocery shopper, as I find clipping coupons to be great fun and like to shop for deals, but I'm also a relatively selective shopper.  I say "selective", and not "picky" because I would, in theory, probably eat just about anything, but I try to keep my home food supply on the healthy side.  For instance, I try to stay away from anything with high fructose corn syrup, which means my choice of crackers immediately goes from 1,239,046 options to about 14.  It's like a domestic scavenger hunt that makes grocery shopping fun for me.  Also, my dad noticed that our grocery store plays way better music than his.  Jewel - 1, Kroger - 0.

I normally stay as far away as possible from the grocery stores on the weekends, as I know they are a hot bed of activity.  Not only will you find hungover 20- and 30- (and maybe up?) somethings, but you'll also be forced to jockey your cart around happy couples holding hands and mothers (and fathers) keeping an eye on their kids.  Today's grocery store experience left me thinking the following:

1.  Since when does going to the grocery store have to be like going to a fucking amusement park?  Why are kids not satisfied with sitting in the cart like this, but now have to drive the cart (this is not exactly what I saw, but close)?  It's no wonder that these children have to be constantly entertained, we are leaving them no opportunity to develop their imagination.
2.  When you were growing up, was grocery shopping a family outing?  I saw several families shopping together.  While I understand it's nice to spend time as a family, having four or more people trying to do something that one person can easily handle on their own makes the entire process take longer than necessary, not to mention clogs the aisles with people.  If I ever get married and/or have children, I think I'd kind of look at grocery shopping as a private affair.  I understand that single parents do not have the luxury of leaving their kid at home with a spouse, but if you can, why wouldn't you?  If I were a single parent living in Chicago, I'm pretty sure I'd use Peapod, so I could avoid the process all together.
3.  Why are there so many varieties of bread?  And why are half-loaves not readily available?  7-11 has them, why can't Jewel?
4.  Have you seen these?  HOW DOES IT HAPPEN?

Post-retirement job idea

I think once I'm old and can fashionably pass for a bitter old woman (as opposed to prematurely pass as one now), I'm going to situate myself outside the polar bear exhibits at the zoo on the regular.  That way, when snot-nosed elementary school kids with their bratty and bored parents walk by and ask "Why are they endangered Mom...what's that mean?" I'm going to say "They are endangered because you don't shut the water off when you brush your teeth, and because your mom doesn't recycle the jars of Spaghetti-O's that she serves you for dinner..IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Too harsh?

Day late, dollar short?

I can't believe I didn't post yesterday!  In my defense, my dad is in town (see earlier posts about mouse invasion...I needed my dad to help make me feel like I wasn't going to get attacked my angry mice in the middle of the night), so computer time has been almost non-existent.  In order to make up for it, I'll post twice today.  So, just pretend for a minute that it's Friday, not Saturday, and we can move on as if this never happened.

Recommendation of the day: Yogen Fruz.
Song of the day: Waterloo, ABBA.

Overheard at Yogen Fruz

I overheard (okay, eavesdropped) on two girls who were clearly talking about whether or not Girl 2 should move in with her boyfriend.  Both girls were no older than 21 years old.

Girl 1:  "Well...do you like, LOVE him?"
Girl 2:  "I love him madly and can't imagine my life without him, but you know...sometimes love just isn't enough to make a relationship work."

How insightful.  I wish I would have been that wise at 21 years old...it would have made the impending breakup with my boyfriend at the time MUCH EASIER.

Sex, Drugs, and Cap'n Crunch.

I have been reading Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs" sporadically for the past couple weeks.  For those who are not familiar, it's a collection of small vignettes focusing on subjects such as Saved By The Bell, MTV Reality shows, John Cusack (or actually, Lloyd Dobler), the Sims, the movie "Reality Bites", and the Dixie Chicks, to name a few.  So, basically it's like reading Gawker from 1993 (i.e. - it's fabulous).

While reading it over the past couple days, I've thought about or wanted to do the following:
1.  Listen to Morrisey/The Smiths.
2.  Listen to the Dixie Chicks.
3.  Watch Saved By The Bell, especially the episode when Jessie Spano gets strung out on No-Doze and dances all flashdance-y.
4.  Speaking of Jessie Spanno, why did she ever do that "Showgirls" movie?
5.  Chuck is from North Dakota.  I've never been to North Dakota.  I'd like to go.
6.  Chuck talks as if every midwestern town has a Tastee-Freeze, but I don't think there was any Tastee-Freezes anywhere near where I grew up.  We did, however, have Dairy Queen's.
7.  I wish I had a cookie dough/M&M/Girl Scout Cookie blizzard.

The end.

The pressure!

One of my least favorite activities in the whole wide world is picking out eyeglasses.  For some reason, it tends to exacerbate my neurotic hangups.  All of a sudden I start obsessing about my crooked ears, my close-set eyes, or my relatively petite nose (which in theory is good, but makes eyeglasses sit a bit lower on my face than I'd like).  Not to mention eyeglass stores tend to have really crisp lighting which seems to point out the new wrinkles I've acquired, my roots, and the lovely under-eye circles I'm sporting (I blame the mice nightmares I've been having...true story).

While paying for the glasses I picked out (which is kinda nonsense, as I hate paying people for things they HAVEN'T DONE YET...I'll save that for another post) I said "You know, it's so unfair that glasses are so expensive (thankfully I still have vision insurance for the rest of this month)...it's not like we WANT to have to wear them."  I mean honestly.  I'm totally unable to go about my day like a normal human being without some form of visual assistance.  All of these things (eyeglasses, contacts, seeing-eye dogs, canes) cost money.  How is that fair?  It then made me think about how aggravated I get buying tampons.  It's not that tampons and pads/sanitary napkins in of of themselves annoy me (well, okay...maybe it is) but the fact that we have to PAY for them, and that they are not cheap, really annoys me.  Why do women have so many more things they have to spend their money on than men do?  This burns me, especially since women still only make about 82 cents to the dollar that a man makes for doing the same job.

What are other things (necessities) that women have to pay for that men don't?  Is there anything that goes the other way?

Two classes

In an effort to make my apartment less attractive to mice, I've decided to get rid of all the shoe boxes in my closet and instead store my off-season shoes in plastic shoe containers from The Container Store.  While this is, of course, more expensive than using the boxes the shoes came in, they will provide a less mouse-attractive environment, as well as look more appealing.

After I got the containers home (I purchased eight to start with, but will need more), I decided I would put away all my flimsy, strappy summer shoes (sigh).  But before I could put anything in the boxes, I had to peel off every last single bit of the labels that were on the boxes.

This reminded me of the two types of car owners I see in Chicago: people who fully remove one city sticker before applying a new one, and people who have a collection of city stickers on their windshield.  For those of you who do not live in Chicago, in order to be a legitimate Chicago car owner, you have to pay $75 for a yearly city sticker (I think the price is dependent upon the size of your car...I pay $75) and if you live in a high-traffic/congested neighborhood, you get a neighborhood sticker for an additional $25, which means that only people who live in your 'hood can park their cars after 6 p.m. (I live near Wrigley, so I have a neighborhood sticker).  The City of Chicago got smart this year and combined these stickers into one, but before I had two stickers on my car.

I am a person who looks at the removal of the previous year's city sticker as serious business.  I get every last morsel of that outdated sticker off my car before I will apply the new one.  I even have "Goo B Gone" or whatever it's called to aid me in this important endeavor.  See, I don't want anything unnecessary on my car, not only for aesthetic reasons, but also for safety...having a collection of stickers is distracting.  I have some friends, however, who literally have four years worth of city stickers lining up the side of their windshield.

I'll just say it...if I see multiple stickers on your windshield, I'm probably likely to assume that your car is a bit of a mess.  Try as I might, I still judge.  See you in hell!

Mouse in the house = voices in my head

I've lived alone for I think five years now.  I have never been one who's is startled/freaked out by noises caused by things unknown, as I generally chalk them up to the house settling, neighbors, etc.  Since Tuesday, I've sat, wide-eyed and on edge, when ever I hear a noise that cannot be directly connected to one of two things: 1) my upstairs neighbors, who must be kinda heavy because they sure are loud walkers, or 2) the train.  This change can be directly linked to the moment I discovered I have (I'm hoping it's "had", but I'm also worried about counting my chickens) mice.

Mice are cute if you think of them in terms of Mickey, Danger, Minnie, or Mighty Mouse, but in actuality very nasty.  The things are sneaky and have thrived for centuries, which goes to show they are probably works of the devil.

Since Tuesday night, after the first spotting, I have trapped three mice.  The first two were unfortunately trapped on glue boards, which is horrific and terrifying and completely inhumane (but the only thing that my building supervisor could provide) and one met it's early demise in a corner of my kitchen.  I have apologized to all these mice about their unfortunate end, but was at the same time slightly relieved to have them caught and disposed of.  I had some nice men in my apartment Friday, sealing up the space between my floor and baseboards (in an old/vintage building, these are common) to which they said something along the lines of them not being able to get back in, but I'm skeptical.  Not only am I skeptical that I won't see any more in my apartment, I can also say with certainty that one was REALLY PISSED last night when I heard it scratching/squealing INSIDE MY WALL.  It's like a horror movie gone wrong.

I would like to state that my apartment, while always a little cluttered due to my inability to part with things until I've considered it at least five times, is CLEAN.  I routinely vacuum/dust bust, and had, just a couple days prior to this event, scrubbed my kitchen floor.  While my building supervisor has said repeatedly that he's surprised I'm having such a bad problem since my apartment is so well-taken-care-of, I still feel like people are going to judge me if I tell them (more like when, cause I can't help but share the story) that I had mice in my house.

I think one of the reason's this is getting to me is because it's a control issue.  I do, undoubtedly, like to be in control.  Unfortunately, due to several thousands years of evolution and refinement, mice are a lot more likely to outwit me.  Did you know they can fit through a hole smaller than a US dime?  That is horribly frightening.  In the past week, I've seen more mice than I've seen anywhere other than a natural museum.

Et too Universe?

Two classes.

I sometimes think of the world, and the people in it, as belonging to one of two classifications.  I know this might sound slightly narrow-minded, but it's usually about things that there is either one way or the other, so it's not like I apply it to every aspect of life.  And although I might say you're in option A, not option B, I don't think that means you ONLY ALWAYS do A.  Sometimes B might be the right choice in the moment.

For instance, I belong to the group of people who ALWAYS AND FOREVER YES EVEN IT'S RAINING return grocery carts (called buggy's in the south) to the cart corral.  Always.  Sure, I'm sure there has been a time I haven't, perhaps due to time constraints or the ability to find a cart corral, but if I don't return my cart to the corral, I get The Guilt.  You know the kind...the "If you weren't such a lazy ass, you would have returned that cart to the corral.  DAMMIT, this is why you have a hard time finding someone to love" or something like that.  I feel like returning the cart to the corral is something people generally always do or never do.  I doubt there are many people who are firmly in the "sometimes" category.

I am not, however, a person who puts plates out on the dining room table unless there are people sitting at said table.  Do you know what I mean?  My train of thought is "Why would I put plates out if there's no food?" or "If you leave those out, doesn't that mean you'd have to wash them BEFORE you serve food on them?"  To me, this makes absolutely no sense, although I can agree that cute plates are definitely good pieces of decoration.  I wonder if it has something to do with whether or not someone grew up in a house with anciliary plates on tables, or if it's something they picked up from a Pottery Barn/Crate & Barrel catalog.

So blog readers...which groups do you belong to?

Things I don't understand...

Within the past two years I have met two people who don't "believe" in dinosaurs.  Yes, "believe" like dinosaurs are like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus.

I totally support everyone's right to their own opinion, but I just don't really get how they can not be sure about dinosaurs.  If they didn't really exist, how did people THINK up dinosaurs?  Like who's imagination is responsible for the T-Rex, a massive killing machine with arms that short?  If I were to think up a fictional animal, I don't think I'd end up with something looking like that.


When I asked one of them "So how do you explain the fossils that have been found all over the world?", her answer was "I think the government is just fuckin' with us."

Reserved vs. Cold

Life can often be looked at as a game of walking a fine line.  There's tardy vs. late, drunk vs. out of hand,  persistent vs. stalker, and quirky vs. crazy, to name a few.  One that I find a lot of my friends (and myself) walking is reserved vs. cold, as it relates to letting people get to know the "real you."  To me, reserved means you are a pleasant person, but you're not going to tell everyone everything about you in the first couple times you hang out.  Cold, to me, means you are not a warm person (ha!  Aren't I good with words?) and after meeting you people are not usually saying "She seems like a lot of fun/nice" because it's possible you came across as a tad bitchy/boring.

My mom likes to remind me that I'm very English (my grandfather, who was my favorite grandparent until he died when I was eight years old, was born in England) therefore I am genetically programmed to not show a lot of emotion to people.  It's not to say I am not emotional...I think I kind of am.  I get excited when I see dogs in my neighborhood and generally show a "Look!  A cute dog!" emotion and I get teary-eyed while reading really great writing or while watching a really touching human interest story.  I just do not really enjoy talking about my feelings or showing any kind of negative emotion.  I also like to vent but then be totally over whatever it was that I just spent ten minutes bitching about.  To me that is therapeutic.  To others, that is weird.  I'm not someone that needs a fix to all my "problems" (in quotes because I know there are a ton of people who would love to have my "problems"), I sometimes just like to voice them.

What do you think is the fine line between being "reserved" and "cold"?  Do you ever get called one or the other?

Thing's I don't understand.

There is a group on Facebook titled "KEEP SEX OFFENDERS OFF OF FACEBOOK".  At this moment, it has 2,258,194 members.

Is this really a valid enough concert that people need to sign on to a group?  I mean, what's the point?  If you are a parent of a small child, I'm pretty sure your small child should not be on Facebook.  Your tween or teen is probably on Facebook, but as a parent to a tween or teen, you need to have a pretty frank discussion with them about the internet, privacy, and safety.  Get detailed with them.  Share scary stories.  Tell it like it is!

I just don't understand how so many people in this world claim they are Christian, however they never seem convinced that people can be rehabilitated.  Where's the logic in that?

Things I don't understand, a multiple-part series.

So when you're an adult female, feather's, like on boa's, are something you bust out when you're:
1.  Dressing up for Halloween.
2.  Going to Vegas.
3.  Being ridiculous.
4.  In a show in Vegas, Atlantic City, Branson, etc.
5.  At Mardi Gras.

Basically, things with feathers = acting a bit more risque than in regular life, no?  I mean, let me know if I'm totally wrong on this one, but it's not like on an average Friday night you're thinking "What can I wear that will complement my feather boa..."

If this is how we feel about feather boa's, why is it that so many people pose their little baby girls in pictures with feather boa's, or feathers in general?

The gossip girl writers need to call me.

I am a very casual watcher of television, in general, but am a rabidly avid watcher of shows worthy enough to be called a "favorite".  My most recent favorite non-news program shows include Gossip Girl and Lost.  Hey, I meant my "favorite", not critically acclaimed favorites.  Since I don't have cable, that's it.  Just those two.  That equates to two hours of recreational television a week, and honestly, I probably watch only four hours of television per week, which includes Meet the Press Sunday mornings and an episode or two of The Cosby Show (the best comedy OF ALL TIME).  Think of my television watching like your experience with a great friend or someone you are passionate about...if you're only spending two - four hours with them, you want to make it count.

Lost has yet to fail me.  Regardless of the fact that entire episodes can go by and nothing may get settled, we may just find out there's a polar bear! on an island! or that hot doctor Jack has a drug problem, but it always grabs me in some way. Maybe since the show is so wacky and unrealistic it gets put into a different category of expectations.  I don't really watch to see things get resolved, I watch for the mystery, excitement, suspense, and I'll admit it, the gorgeous scenery and fantastic eye candy (I drool over Jack, Sawyer, and Desmond, and also watch to figure out if I'll ever be able to look like Kate.)

Gossip Girl was my not-so-guilty pleasure.  Let's face it, I'll be 32 in a couple days and maybe should not be so concerned with Manhattan's elite, but I just love(d) it.  The clothes!  The drama!  The eye candy! (I will be the first to admit that I have a shallow streak).

The first episode of this season was "eh", but I allowed it that because it's the first episode of the new season.  Don't make me explain why it's important to be kind to first's, because this is a family blog.

Last night's episode, however, was horribly horrible.  Several times during the episode I found myself exclaiming "Oh really?  Nice, evil, nice...OMG is that a silk ROMPER...where is Little J...what's the point of having all those headbands if they never pull back your hair...I wonder if a wasabi facial is a good anti-ager...oh heaven's, Nate kept the boarding pass...she is not cute enough for him, but is still at least 30x's cuter than me...I need to work on my self-esteem...Dan Humphrey just referenced Judy Blume...more daddy issues and now Jesus freaks?"

In a nutshell, the episode was riding the hot mess express.  It wasn't telling a single story except tangentially, which is unnecessary for an hour long dramedy.

Gossip Girl writer's, you have until October 26th.  If you don't pull your shit together by then...oh whoops...I just swore on my family blog, I am DONE WITH YOU.  Next episode, why don't you try to:

1.  Elaborate on Serena's daddy issues.  Prior to the final episode of last season, we'd never really heard of the daddy (or I wasn't paying attention) but now you want us to believe she is seeking his acceptance/love?  But why?
2.  Scott.  We all know that Scott is Rufus and Lily's kid, but what's he doing there?  Is he just trying to meet his birth parents or is he trying to extort his birth parents?  Is he hanging out with all of them (and making out with Vanessa) because he wants to gather Intel for his extortion case?
3.  Nate.  What's the deal there?  He's going to Columbia, right?  Why isn't he at orientation? What's this girl Bree studying in grad school?  My money's on economics or public-something (like policy, affairs, etc.)
4.  Blair.  Why not develop that character a little and have her fall in l-u-v with a Professor, or at least be hugely moved toward a cause?  If a daughter of a hugely famous fashion designer lived on my floor, you'd better believe we'd be BFF's stat.

All in all, I expected better from you Gossip Girl.  Your music wasn't even all that original.

*SIGH*