Being Adult: Grocery Stores

I don’t know where it came from, but, somehow, I caught a cold. The first thing I did when I noticed the symptoms was make a trip to the grocery store—to pick up some medicine and chocolate, of course.

I’ve discovered, though, that it is impossible to go in a grocery store and just find a single item.

Finding the nasal decongestant in a grocery store is like trying to find a McDonalds in the middle of Narnia—you’re not sure how you got there or if the McDonalds is even there. There’s a McDonald’s everywhere though, right? So you think there’s gotta be one around there somewhere…

Ultimately, you’re tired, confused, and just want some nuggets (or nasal decongestant, as the case may be).

He could probably find a McDonalds, too. Mr. Tumnus is just that good.

[I just want to take a moment to point something out. My visual interpretation of Mr. Tumnus looks exactly like my interpretation of Hagrid. This is some high quality art work, y’all.]

Hagrid could probably be Mr. Tumnus in an overcoat and boots… and on stilts.

I have the exact same problem when I go into a grocery store to do normal shopping too.

Once every couple of weeks I will wake up and open the pantry door, looking for food. (Or coffee. In fact, it’s almost always coffee that I look for in the morning. Coffee is pretty much the substance I center my life around these days.)

Regardless, once I open this door two things immediately come to my attention:

1. There is no coffee here…
2. Wait. There’s no food here either.

And, thus, I know that I have to do grocery shopping.

The moment I enter a grocery store I’m simultaneously confused and annoyed—

confused because I’ve instantly forgotten what exactly I need;

annoyed because some soccer mom comes up behind me with a buggy that’s as big as the SUV she drove to get there.

Normally, I have no problem with soccer moms—hey, my mom was one, AND they tend to make some awesome cookies. In a grocery store, though, they move through that place like they’re running a marathon, and, somehow, a couple of them tend to get stuck behind me.

She tries to cough quietly, telling me to move out of the way, but it comes out as more of a wheeze.

Quickly, I dodge right. BUT, little do I know, I’ve leaped right into the produce isle—soccer mom starts following me.

Throughout the store, we go one isle after another, and every few seconds I hear her tapping her shoe waiting for me to move along.

I’ve only been buying my own groceries for a half year now, though, and I still don’t know what I need to survive for two weeks. It still takes thought to figure out whether I not I need something.

It’s stressful, so I start to go a bit crazy with the shopping…

 

I know I need cheese, but we’re in an isle of Cheese-Its. We already passed the cheese section, didn’t we? Maybe. I don’t know.

And, really, they’re sort of the same thing.

Oh! Lunchables! Delicious!

 

Once we get to the cereal isle, soccer mom calms down a little—the sheer variety of cereals preoccupies her for the moment.

In this window of time, I have a moment to explore the pasta without her impatient sighs. This is probably why I eat so much pasta.

 

 Ew, what is this? It looks like horse radish… wait. It is horse radish.

 

The freezer isle is a little bit easier to manage.

She focuses on the kid’s frozen dinners. I focus on Lean Cuisines.

She gets those fancy pizzas with cookies or cheese-stuffed crust. I get the Kroger-brand stuff. If I close my eyes and pretend, the Kroger brand begins to taste just like the fancy stuff.

 

Hm. Do I already own bacon? Well, there ain’t no such thing as too much bacon!

Coffee! CoFfEe! COffeE CofFEE CoffEE! Yay!  

 

Toward the end of our grocery journey together, we reach the toilet-paper-and-napkins isle…

I look at the isle, then I stare hard at my buggy. Mainly, I want to know:

How fast will it go? And How far can it take me?

The opportunity it perfect. I’m in an isle that is covered in soft plushie cleaning supplies—it’s like bowling with bumper lanes! But I’m the ball!

BUT once I take that fateful step back—to gain some speed—I run into her. The soccer mom.

We exchange a look. Mine says, “Oh, my bad, forgot you were there.”

Hers says, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

 

As fate would have it, we both end up side-by-side at some self-checkout lanes, and it’s a constant staring match.

This lady gives me a judgment look because she knows I forgot the simple things, like milk and bread, and, instead, loaded up with chocolate and coffee and fruit roll-ups.

Meanwhile, I stare at her counting how many different types of yogurt she got—hell. I didn’t know that much yogurt existed. I do NOT remember seeing that much yogurt in the dairy section.

Rumor has it that there are these things called “grocery lists” that help people get what they need when they go shopping. From what I understand though, their existence is like Big Foot’s—people say they’ve seen it in the wild, but no one is able to prove it.

I Have a Cold and, thus, Must Be Dieing

Sometimes my dad walks into the living room and asks,

“Why are you sitting upside down?”

To which I answer,

“Because sitting up is too mainstream.”

From this position, every ‘No I’m not going to the store to get you chocolate’ looks like a ‘Yes’. Unfortunatly, it’s soon met with dissapointment.

“What–”

“And I’m sick.”

“What?”

Since my dad clearly doesn’t get it, I have to spell it out.

“I’m sitting upside down because I am a diseased hipster.”

I’m not sure if he understands it, even now, because he walks away, shaking his head and saying, “…the things you pick up in college…”.

I don’t know why it’s so hard for him to understand, especially since he is the one who passed this strain of disease along.

Sitting upside down is fun in general, BUT it is even more fun when you are sick. For example, when I’m sick and demand, “Get me coffee and chocolate, parental units!”, I get to watch them ignore me upside down– which is so much better than watching them ignore my demands when they’re right side up.

Anyway, I’m 80% sure this is just a bad cold… the other 20% is the margin of error, just in case this is some weird science-y disease that’ll turn me into a zombie. So if I turn into a zombie, I’ll blog about it by Friday. ALSO, if I get better, I’ll be posting something on Friday anyway.

Also, I recently found a song by Family Force 5, and it is awesome. I may end up becoming a zombie by sheer force of will.

How To Survive The LSAT (And A Zombie Apocalypse)

Last Monday I took the LSAT… yeah.

When you first tell people that you’re taking the LSAT, you get two reactions:

1)      They squint and say, “Oh… you wanna be a lawyer, huh?” Slowly, they begin to back away from you.

2)      OR they look at you blankly and say, “Isn’t that one of those tests that you don’t have to study for?”

I have been informed that many people mistake “I’m going to law school/taking the LSAT/going to be a lawyer” for “I’m infected with zombie diseases. Back away before I eat you.”

So, that explains the first reaction.

The second response, however, confuses me. I can’t help but wonder: who lied to you? As someone who has survived the LSAT, I can whole heatedly tell you that the LSAT requires as much preparation as a zombie apocalypse.

So, for those of you who will take the LSAT, have taken the LSAT, or want to survive the impending zombie apocalypse, I’ve devised a strategy that will help you prepare for both catastrophic events.

Rule 1: Abandon All Close Friends and Family

Of course, in a zombie apocalypse, you need to initially abandon all your friends and family because, quite frankly, the weak ones are gonna wake up one day with a hankering for brains. You, however, need to study—having someone you love eat your brain before the exam would be an incredible inconvenience… You might be able to register with a disability though.

There comes a time when she stops being your little girl and starts being an undead rotting corpse.

Rule 2: Learn Listen for Predators

In a world full of zombies, your ears can be stronger than your eyes. You might not be able to see a zombie from around the corner, but you can certainly hear them. The first thing you’ll hear from an approaching zombie is heavy breathing and moaning. Occasionally, you’ll hear a crack of bones breaking, but the breathing is the most obvious sign.

The LSAT, though, introduces a whole new predator to watch out for and avoid. Instead of heavy breathing, you hear them talking. Yeah. These people don’t aim to kill you—at the moment at least. They are those people that cannot stop talking… mostly about themselves.

They say things like “I’ve studied for the LSAT since I was five because I’ve always wanted to defend the little guy because all businesses are evil. Let me tell you all about it. Did you know I saved a box of kittens from a burning building while studying once. Do you like logic games, cuz that’s my favorite section, right next to reading comprehension.”

Why, yes, my ‘zombies’ do look like peas… maybe even teenage mutant ninja turtles. Let’s all just use out imagination for a second. 🙂

Whether they realize it or not, they are both incredibly annoying AND incredibly intimidating. After all, your score if weighted against everyone else’s score—and now you have brilliant-genius-cocky-child-from-hades in the mix of test takers… makes you want to throw yourself or throw them into a zombie hoard.

Rule 3: Figure Out What Zombies You’re Dealing With

How the zombie was created will reveal how to kill it. Was it a disease? Find a vaccination and a gun. Was it magic? Find the necromancer who caused it and a gun. Was it bath salt? Call the police and find a gun.

Rule 5: Gather Your Reading Material, And, If Possible, A Boat

I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I didn’t learn a single thing about surviving a zombie apocalypse in Girl Scouts, Elementary School, or my family. Not a damn thing. You can buy things like ‘Zombie Survival Guides’, but these books don’t cover the specifics. If you have a book store near you, go ahead, and loot it for the books that you need to survive in your specific geographic location.

Personally, I’m gonna get:

How to Use a Boat For Dummies

How to Catch Fish For Dummies

Deep Sea Fishing for Dummies

How to Survive Indefinably On A Boat For Dummies

How to Hijack a Car/Boat For Dummies

AND

How To Use a Gun For Dummies.

…Yeah. Once that apocalypse starts, I’m gonna head for the Georgia coast and live on the sea because I have yet to hear of a zombie that can swim.

Now that I think about it… bodies float, don’t they? Maybe I should revise my plan a bit.

While you’re there, though, go ahead and pick up some literature on the LSAT. Find books that cover the entire test if you’re new to it OR find books that cover the areas you’re weakest at. Practice tests are pretty good too—Practice Tests are to the LSAT as ‘For Dummies’ books are to Post-Apocalyptic Survival.

Rule 6: Stack Up With Appropriate Weaponry

Remember guys, if you’re close enough to use martial arts on the zombie, it’s already too late for you. You need long distance weaponry. Bows and Arrows, Guns, Sharp/Pointy Things You Can Throw, Flame Throwers, Grenades, etc.

With the LSAT, you can’t bring your weapons into the testing center, so, head over there with a small group of people who will protect you from the car to the testing center and back again.

Also, make sure you have a legit passport photo and pencils. Don’t be that person with a crappy picture that makes the check-in line take forever because you were too lazy to get a passport photo from Walgreens or CVS.

Rule 7: Get a Dog

Dogs are not only a great stress relief but they will keep you company after everyone else is a zombie AND you can train them to bark when they smell rotting flesh approaching. 😀

Zombie dog wants to both eat your brain AND use it as a ball– decisions, decisions.

Rule 8: Arrive Early, Stay Stealthy

Being punctual may be harder in light of the recent catastrophe, so plan accordingly.

Also, this test will be physically and mentally draining. Once you’re out, wake yourself up by pretending to be a ninja. The zombies will never expect you to be agile so soon afterwards.

Rule 9: You’re Human, Not Superman

You may see a woman sprinting down the street. You may feel pity and sadness about her impending doom, but NEVER stop your armored car to help her. No. Just don’t do it. It may sound heartless, but think about it this way:

If you stop there to help her, there will be no beating hearts. If you keep driving, there will be at least one heart will keep beating after the next five minutes. So, really, this advice is full of heart.

Likewise, sometimes you’ll look to your right/left and see a guy who is frantically counting how many questions are left in the section… and they just announced that there are five minutes remaining. Ouch. Remember, though, if you talk to him, both of your scores will just end up getting canceled. Don’t do it.

Rule 10: Know All the Exits

When you walk into any building, even the test center, know your exits. How many doors are at the front of the building? Are any of them locked? Is there a backdoor or side doors or basement doors? Do the windows open? Also, if you realize that you’ve only answered two questions in the last four sections, you can always cancel your LSAT score… it would suck, but, in case of emergency, this exit is there.

Rule 11: Don’t Attract Attention

During a zombie apocalypse, making too much noise tells zombies that you are a source of food that is fresh and delicious. During the apocalypse and during the LSAT, you need to go into ninja-stealth-mode. They can’t eat you if they don’t even know you’re there.

Rule 12: Don’t Let People Bite You

This one is fairly self explanatory. During the apocalypse, the LSAT, everyday life, or while stranded on an island with other people, just don’t let people bite you.

Rule 13: After the Initial Chaos, Seek Fellow Survivors

Afterwards, you can be sure that everyone who has survived is a strong/useful person. Feel free to come together and build a small community of people. After all, if you can survive the LSAT, you can survive anything.

Not-Studying

Hello guys! It’s been a while—sort of. It’s been longer than I like to spend between blog posts. I try to post once every week, more or less on a Friday, but, as some of you may know, I am taking the LSAT on Monday. 😮

However, as hard as I may try to prepare for this exam, the only thing I’ve really been able to do is perfect the art of not-studying. Really, when there’s something important  that needs to get done, all I can think of is everything else—

His name is Dr. Horrible.
“Where are his back legs?!” You might be asking yourself. Well, he’s either sitting on them, or he’s part potato. I like to leave a little room for the imagination.

I’ve also noticed that things that have recently been frustrating me, that didn’t frustrate me before…

For example, apparently not everyone knows this– but there is a right way and a wrong way to eat gummy bears.

When you take the effort to go to the store and buy a bag of these squishy rainbow bears, you have to take a moment. These little bear shaped candies look up at you with the innocent and friendly smile. Their hands rest gently on their round bellies. They seem satisfied and happy with life… so you gotta make sure that these little guys don’t die in vain.

You gotta make sure these round bear-gummies die with honor.

How to Dishonor Your Gummy Bears:

You cannot just shove in your mouth without even looking at them. No. That’s too impersonal.

Some machine somewhere in the world went to the effort to create these little bear shapes. If you weren’t meant to play with it, they would have just made circles! They would be jelly beans… or M&Ms!

Not bears.

The Proper Ways to Eat Gummy Bears:

You gotta look this bear in the face, and show him that you are in control here. Then, you actually gotta eat him. There are many means of execution, but here are a few of my favorites:

The Velociraptor You have to attack the bear quickly and strategically. Watch the bear. Study its movements… then come in for the kill.

The Zombie

Rule 1: Cardio
Rule 2: Double Tap

In the zombie spirit, you have to go in brain-first. Savor it… then go limb by limb.

The Crusher

After a while, the green ones start to look like yoda.

Take the little bear in between your index finger and your thumb… then slowly– and carefully, you don’t wanna drop it– squish it. Naturally, these things are made of jelly, so you’ll have to squish it over and over again to get the desired result.

The Voldemort

Gather all the cunning and hate within your heart, and give the bear a swift and merciless end– Avada Kadava!

Caution: After preforming this unforgivable curse, you may want to stay way from any Ministry of Magic people… its a bit frowned upon in certain circles.

The Mad Scientist

Piece by piece, take that bear apart! After you’ve dissected and torn that bear apart, try and put it back together again and bring it back to life! Maybe you’ll create your very own bear-esq monster that’ll chase you around the earth, seeking revenge for his lack of companionship…

A few other good ones are:

The Goat and the T-Rex (…maybe this one is self explanatory…)

The Pinata (break it open and eat it from the inside out)

and the Paula Dean (cover it in butter and bake at 350 for 20 seconds ;))

Also, there’s another thing that’s been frustrating me—people you ask you questions about the book you are reading while you are reading it!

Before I pick up a book, no one has anything to say… nothing at all. No news. No questions. No gossip.

But.

As soon as I pick up the book, someone will flock over to me like a vulture flocks to zombie-carnage.

“Has a beginning! Has a middle! Has an End! What madness is this!” -Donatello

They hoover over me until I’ve gotta into a thick part of the plot—the characters declare their love for each other; someone dies; explosions; time travel… you know, the good stuff. Once I get there, they know.

It’s like they’re psychic… they’re the psychic vulture book ruiners… of doom!

Then they pounce!

They ask questions. Yes, they’re seemingly innocent questions, but they know you are too busy to answer their questions:

What’s is about?

[Frantically, you realize someone in the real world has said words together… so you put together a meshed summary of what you just read]

Where are you at?

[You show them the edge of the book, so they can see how many page you’ve gone through and how many you have left. Then, perhaps, you realize that they wanted something more specific…]

Is it like twilight?

[Of course, it’s not like Twilight! This plot has actual depth!]

Are you sure? Cuz that sounds a lot like twilight…

[Totally different!]

Really? Cuz that one guy defiantly sounds a lot like Edward…

[Yeah. If by “a lot like Edward” you mean “is male”….]

Right. So this girl that is “not at all like Bella” falls in love with a guy that is “not at all like Edward”, and they have a baby… Sure sounds a lot like Twilight…

[Your face is a lot like Twilight!!@#$%]

Don’t be so sensitive!

[Your face shouldn’t be so sensitive!!!#$!%Z@]

Hey! It’s not my fault you’re reading Twilight!

Then, when I throw the book at them, I lose my page. It’s just a lose-lose situation all around.