I took myself to lunch at Whole Foods where the decadence of going out to lunch by myself is tempered by the ascetic-like fare: steamed kale and salad greens, boiled whole grains and lentils with a variety of seeds and parsley on top. For flavor.
It still costs about the same as a cheeseburger and fries ($6) so no harm done, right?
Just for the record, I don’t shop there; it’s way too expensive. This blog is the funniest and most accurate account of the Whole Foods shopping experience. NAMASTE!
The food court, however, rules.
Anyway, I ruminated through the plate of super colon blow while catching up with my new favorite blog, Sexless and Cynical.
I met the blogger at the studio but there is no way I would have guessed at what was going on behind her quiet (though extremely flexible) exterior. I wouldn’t have known about the blog at all if Tabby hadn’t told me. I’m kind of in love with her.
This post is one of the funniest things I have ever read and it makes me really glad I’m not dating. I mean, the other day when I was trying to talk Harmy’s husband into sexting me I was like, “It’s not because I’m trying to start anything. Nooooo. I can’t imagine anything more terrifying than getting naked in front of anyone but Lonny.” That makes me a poor candidate for the dating pool.
An acquaintance of mine informed me that dating is completely different now.
“For starters,” she said, “the goal is to go on as cheap a date as possible. Like, coffee. Then you hook up (that means sex, Dad) immediately.”
Me: “Really? Ew.”
Her: “Well, that’s what I’ve heard. I wouldn’t know from personal experience.”
I take exception with the phrase “hook up”. It sounds so casual, which I guess is what it is. But it makes me think of this.
Anyway, I can witness the horror of OKCupid on her blog without running the risk of being asked to take my clothes off, or tolerate this type of idiotic overture.
She has 17 followers which means she doesn’t care about how many people witness her internal ramblings; unlike me, who cares too much but really shouldn’t. Anyway, she’s wicked talented and very funny and can draw. Like, really draw.
I have to resort to scraping images off of the internet which sometimes can lead me to dark places.
Go ahead, Google image search “giant pussy”.
No wait, don’t.
Suffice to say, you won’t find many pictures of large cats, which is what I was looking for.
Seriously, don’t do it.
Annnyyyywaaaayyyy. I was enjoying my meal of steamed twigs and watching with amusement/horror as a toddler carefully ate the rice off of the ahi tuna sushi in front of her.
I kind of wanted to get all judgy on the parent and be like, “Hey! Your kid does not want to eat that raw fish! You know why? She’s three!” But that would be rude, right?
Do you know what’s worse than a three year-old eating an endangered species? A three year-old not eating it. This woman just spent $15 to feel superior about her foodie child and then throw a piece of that magnificent creature into the trash after the kid has licked the rice off it.
Don’t get me started on what it took to get that piece of fish, now trash, to landlocked Colorado.
What ever happened to just giving the kid some some rice and beans or a peanut butter and banana sandwich or a friggin’ quesadilla? I remember my parents saying, “No. You may not have the brie cheese, it’s too expensive. It’s for grown-ups.” That’s okay.
For the record, I feel the same way about pricey electronics, manicures, fancy dinners, massages and anything that smacks of “personal services” for children. That’s for the grown-ups who earn the money. When you are grown up, little child, you too may decide to spend your money this way. After you pay your bills.
You may also not speak to the waiter as an equal until you are a grown-up and not before. And even then you better continue with the “may I” and “pleases”. It’s called civility.
I finished my meal and headed for the door. There’s a chair massage station on the way out (because spending an entire paycheck on two bags of groceries is stressful and warrants some serious de-stressing before you face the parking lot from hell) and I was blinded by the amazing rack on display. And I’m not talking about a display rack.
Seriously, if I had had the stones, I would have circled around to take a picture a woman getting a chair massage by a therapist with incredible boobs.
But I did find this rather tame and kind of funny infographic.
The massage therapist was wearing a low cut tank top and her boobs were all pressed together as she kneaded her client’s back and I COULDN’T STOP STARING and thinking about Nikki.
God, my shoulders are so tight these days.
Time to cut the crap.
And finally, I found an album with old pictures of Lonny. His dark past is revealed. He used to be a hippy!