Saturday, June 26, 2010

I'm Going Alone. So Shut Up.

I normally enjoy going to the grocery store, it’s a weird statement coming from a 20-year-old, but I guess I just feed the I.<3.Shopping girly stereotype. It gives me an excuse to just drive around that calms my nerves (the young “OMG!!!111! It’s that a dog two blocks away? I’m so gonna kill him, I must crash against a tree instead” teenager I have inside can’t believe I just said that); I also like buying all the junk food I want, that my insanely nutritious mother never buys; and, I rarely get to do it, so I don’t get a chance to hate it.
I do manage to have fun while I’m there. For example, today, I was picking apples and while I was struggling to reach the shinny red ones at the top of the pyramid I decided to stand on the tip of my toes and stick out my butt. Of course, that didn’t make the job any easier, but I had a blast putting up a show for all the invisible people around me. I make the simplest day-to-day activities seem like fun, huh?
As I stand in line, I can’t help but look at what others are buying. It’s always interesting what you can learn about a person’s groceries, you can tell if they’re hosting a party, if they are a cat o a dog person, if they are cheap, if they have kids… You know, all that exciting stuff. But today, I looked at my shopping cart for a change, thinking what it said about me.
So, I stared at the Kotex pads, the three apples I carefully choose, 2 six-packs my mom asked me to buy, Nair wax, and a box of chocolate chip cookies that described me as an “alcoholic that wouldn’t want to walk around as if someone just shot at her vagina; likes to see herself as a healthy eater but she can’t fool herself for a long time… And who, under those jeans, doesn’t look so hot (but soon she will!)”; statement that, ignoring the alcoholic part, is completely true.
When I arrived at the register I was all excited to show off my ID. It’s not new or anything, but for so many years I promised myself that when I turned 18 (aka. Legal drinking *cough*sex*cough* age in Mexico) I would use any opportunity to show my ID followed by a “you think I’m underage? I’m so flattered”. Well, that day never came. I’m not much of a clubbing kind of girl (and in this day and age, in my town it’s a good thing); I thought I was an R-rated movie kind of girl, but these last two years I haven’t been, apparently, now that it’s legal for me to watch those moves, Pixar ones seem so much appealing (by the way, ToyStory3 fucking rocks… I laughed, cried, and got a bit horny by all grown up pixelated Andy); the only time I was asked for an ID was in a Sex Shop, and that time I forgot to bring it! But it was ok, my then boyfriend looked old enough for the both of us… Wait, did I just admit I went to a Sex Shop with a boyfriend? … I’m so so sorry, dad…
I lost my train of thought.
The point was that I was actually hopeful the woman at the cash register would ask for an ID but she didn’t. Could it be that I finally look my age…? Whatever, my mind is still thinking about hot Andy and all the new toys I could introduce him to (again, I’m so sorry, dad).
My exact change was the equivalent to 10 American cents; which led me to take the hard decision of not giving any tip to the bag boy. The old saying that goes “Little is better than nothing” is bullshit in this case. Those 10 cents were just an insult.

On the drive back I started thinking about all the things I rarely do… Cooking, cleaning the bathroom, ironing, grocery shopping. Activities that I try to have fun with, as I don’t do them very often. Activities that in a couple of months will be a big pain in the ass since I will be dealing with them on a daily basis. It won’t be long until I find myself yelling at pile of dirty laundry longing for the day those clothes cleaned themselves magically.
My only hope is that, when that day comes, I’ll find it in my heart to stick out my butt, giving my imaginary admirers a good show while I cry.

After a somehow deep and meaningful drive, I arrived home, just to find out the damn bag boy put all my stuff into the same heavy but frail bag. It ended up breaking, I kept the beers from falling out, but my pads didn’t run the same luck; and like an old cliché they landed in front of my neighbors’ house for a cute guy to see… Ok, it was actually and old woman, but it could have been a cute guy!
You may call it karma for not tipping the bag boy; I say you’re right… That fucker did deserve those insulting 10 cents.


  1. Sex shops are great. In Santa Ana california there is a sex shop called Spanky's. the T-shirts they sell are great, with images of a guy spanking a monkey over his lap, a guy with a huge muscular right arm and a regular size left arm, a guy choking a chicken, and a guy polishing a rocket ship. I love that store. And yes, that boy did deserve that 10 cents. And you rule.

  2. When you get to spain just get a guy who still lives with his mom to be your boyfriend. If your good enough you can have free coocked food and washed clothes XD

  3. Apples, beer, chocolate chip cookies, Nair wax and Kotex. To me that says to me you are depressed (beer & cookies) about not getting laid (wax) and god forbid someone should cross you at this time of the month (Kotex). The apples 0.o… well most women would use cucumbers or hot dogs; I would say you have a very kinky side.

    I often like to analyze my self by what I am buying. My favorite was the time I went up the cash register with deodorant, breath mints, beer and a large value pack of condoms. The lady at the register must have thought I was planning on a big night, but it just so happens I was just about out of all of those things at once. No it was not a big night, we were at my wife’s parents house visiting and I knew I was not getting lucky.

    The bagboy did not deserve a tip if he put everything in to one bag. Beer is heavy and bags are weak. At least you did not bruise your apples.

    Yes chores suck, but welcome to the real world, you must pay for your independence some how.

  4. @ Chris. I’m not sure if I would ever buy a tshirt at a sex shop. You see, I like to wear my tshirts in public but I also like to keep the stuff I buy at a sex shop inside my nightstand drawer… There’s the contradiction. And thank you, you’re pretty cool yourself.

    @Pedro Calheiros. Oh, and I’m sure it won’t be awkward when I break up with the son but I tell his mom “Mrs. I didn’t break up with you, you can still do my laundry!”.

    @ Jules. A cucumber…? Hot dogs? I’m sorry, but with what kind of women you hang out with?
    It is fun to look at groceries, huh? I take special attention when I buy things that don’t have anything to do with the other… For example, one list I’ve done a lot it’s: dog food (to keep my dogs alive, of course), orange juice (my mom is addicted to it) and butter (ingredient that’s always missing when I plan to bake cookies). Other people (with the same hobbie we have) may be very curious about my diet.

  5. I think I spend too much time on The failblog.

    On second thought beer (poison) and apples. That makes you a modern day Snow White right and you mother the queen?

  6. I do enjoy these entries, although I do not comment much. But right now, even as I travel abroad, I am still following along. Keep it up!

  7. You may not look at the homepages of the ones who post comments but I accidentally picked the wrong one, I'm not that creepy Hawaiin. >.>

  8. I picked the wrong link. I am actually not that creepy Hawaiin guy. lol..

  9. You made me laugh so hard… Glad to know you’re not a creepy Hawaiian.
    And you also made my day by telling me you still read me while you’re away (:

  10. well ex mum likes me a lot... maybe more than my ex ever did hahaha maybe that wouldn't be that ackward! XD (of course's more like me doing stuff for them than the other way around ..upss..)

    PS: i think i already posted on your blog with 3 or more diferent names/links :O

  11. I’m guessing you and your ex ended up in good terms… If you didn’t, well, not a great supporter that mom.
    Don’t worry, I still know it’s you :*

  12. "I thought I was an R-rated movie kind of girl, but these last two years I haven’t been, apparently, now that it’s legal for me to watch those moves, Pixar ones seem so much appealing (by the way, ToyStory3 fucking rocks… I laughed, cried, and got a bit horny by all grown up pixelated Andy)"
    "Whatever, my mind is still thinking about hot Andy and all the new toys I could introduce him to (again, I’m so sorry, dad)."

    You, young lady (wait, did I just say young lady to someone my age?), are so fucking full of win it's beyond words.