My birthday is on Sunday. I will be the big 3-1. Blame it on the joys of Pregnant Brain, holiday shopping that still needs to get finished, or just plain baby excitement coupled with anxiety, but I keep forgetting that the old birthday is coming up...now in just 3 days...or 4 depending on how you look at it. I've been reminded by several people over the past few days, so I guess it's on my brain.
I don't think John and I are doing anything special to celebrate because he is going to West Virginia to help his mom with a sale we had committed to helping her with a couple months back. I initially planned to go on this trip, but with how wacky my hormones have been and my propensity to be overly sensitive over the past few (several?) weeks, we think it's probably not in my (and our) best interest for me to go. So I'm thinking I'll take the weekend to finish my holiday shopping, maybe pick up some more things for the baby and her room, finish Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and sleep late since my body has been requiring more and more of the Zzzs.
As for a little celebration, I'll probably get myself a piece of cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory, too. I've had an insane craving/obsession for Key Lime Pie lately, and since it is very difficult to find up here in these parts, the Key Lime cheesecake will probably have to suffice unless I bone up and decide to make myself a pie. Which isn't totally out of the question.
And while I am on the subject of food, I found these sweet little Jessie Steele aprons this week. I think I might have to splurge and get myself the Blue Polka Floral and/or the Brown with Pink Polka Dots apron - seeing as how I manage to get my clothes dirty almost every time I cook or bake something. I've never had an apron before, but since I've been in nesting overdrive, I am starting to see the importance of having a good apron in order to cover up and protect my clothes. I swear I've cooked and baked more over the past month and half than I have over the past year. Now THAT'S insane.
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
I've done it again...
Waited until the last minute to do my holiday shopping. I promised myself I wouldn't do that this year, but I guess I just had to break that promise to my self. Way to go, Karoline! It's not that I am stingy or whathaveyou, I just hate shopping at the malls. Especially at this time of year.
Not your typical hate either. The hate of thousands of haters kind of hate. Millions of haters, even. I break out in hives and cold sweats when I think about even having to run an errand at the mall, or a store that could be construed as a mall-esque store (read: Best Buy, Bed Bath & Beyond, etc.).
I don't know what is wrong with me when it comes to this time of year, but something intrinsically rebels and I can't motivate myself to venture out into the public shopping arena...so I put the shopping off...and continue to put it off until the last possible minute. And then I end up going at the WORST POSSIBLE TIME. The last days before Christmas. AWESOME. Not so much.
On another note, I lopped a bunch of my hair off today. I feel good about this haircut. Just say no to helmethead.
Not your typical hate either. The hate of thousands of haters kind of hate. Millions of haters, even. I break out in hives and cold sweats when I think about even having to run an errand at the mall, or a store that could be construed as a mall-esque store (read: Best Buy, Bed Bath & Beyond, etc.).
I don't know what is wrong with me when it comes to this time of year, but something intrinsically rebels and I can't motivate myself to venture out into the public shopping arena...so I put the shopping off...and continue to put it off until the last possible minute. And then I end up going at the WORST POSSIBLE TIME. The last days before Christmas. AWESOME. Not so much.
On another note, I lopped a bunch of my hair off today. I feel good about this haircut. Just say no to helmethead.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
On my way home from derby practice last night I realized I was running uber low on my smokie treats, so I of course stopped at a gas station to make the purchase that kills me one inhale at a time. You know what happened? I am going to tell you.
I was almost NOT sold ciggies because I apparently look like I am not eighteen years old. Okay people, I will be thirty years old in two months plus three days. Thirty. And I somehow don't look eighteen.
The older guy behind the counter checked my ID, then looked at me, checked my ID, looked at me. You know, gave me the twice over. Then he had his co-worker examine it...the older woman of doom. She gave me the thrice over while I started pulling out credit cards or ANYTHING to prove I was over the age of eighteen. The woman of doom finally said that it "looked like a valid license" and they could sell them to me.
So then me and my social retardededom offered to show them my roots so they could see my greys and natural color, but the lady snapped at me and said a LADY NEVER SHOWS HER ROOTS. Okay there day-glo orange woman. Whatevs. Just give me my smokes.
Was this a sign I should stop smoking? Probably. Am I going to adhere to the sign at this time? No, I am not. I shall enjoy my p-funk all-stars for the time being. I am smoking a lot less than I used to and am down to about one point five to two packs a week. And that, my friends, is progress. Perfection doesn't happen overnight.
I was almost NOT sold ciggies because I apparently look like I am not eighteen years old. Okay people, I will be thirty years old in two months plus three days. Thirty. And I somehow don't look eighteen.
The older guy behind the counter checked my ID, then looked at me, checked my ID, looked at me. You know, gave me the twice over. Then he had his co-worker examine it...the older woman of doom. She gave me the thrice over while I started pulling out credit cards or ANYTHING to prove I was over the age of eighteen. The woman of doom finally said that it "looked like a valid license" and they could sell them to me.
So then me and my social retardededom offered to show them my roots so they could see my greys and natural color, but the lady snapped at me and said a LADY NEVER SHOWS HER ROOTS. Okay there day-glo orange woman. Whatevs. Just give me my smokes.
Was this a sign I should stop smoking? Probably. Am I going to adhere to the sign at this time? No, I am not. I shall enjoy my p-funk all-stars for the time being. I am smoking a lot less than I used to and am down to about one point five to two packs a week. And that, my friends, is progress. Perfection doesn't happen overnight.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
oh the horror
if you know me well to not-so-well, you are aware of the fact that i hateHATEhate shopping. it is definitely one of my least favorite things to do. if i could survive with ordering everything i needed in life online and have it delivered to my door, i would.
that said, the most tolerable type of shopping for me is grocery shopping. i don't mind it - in fact i enjoy it when i manage to go at a time of day when the store isn't extraordinarily crowded and parents aren't there with their little kids who inevitably end up pushing their carts into your heels and ankles. but i digress...
my typical modus operandi is show up at the store with a list, and get through the aisles as quickly as possible while managing to retrieve everything needed. that was the methodology i was employing today, and boy did it work! i was in that store at 4:15PM and out by 4:48PM. yes! out before the post-work, post-daycare rush!
but you see, it wasn't an entirely joyous experience as i had to spend the last fifteen minutes or so in line with the cashier from hell. no seriously. you have no idea. at first glance, she appeared normal to the naked eye. but this really was not the case. oh no. not at all. but before i knew this, i had already put my bounty of food and dry goods on the conveyor belt.
i'm waiting as she sluggishly runs my six pack of quilted northern over the scanner, so i head down to the little pay area and think to myself, "oh man, i bet this is going to take at least seven minutes." wrong-o, septic. it was going to take about fifteen minutes of pure unadulterated horror. you see, with the toilet paper, she had not yet started her commentary on everything i was purchasing.
soon after - actually when she saw i was purchasing diet canada dry ginger ale, she asked me if i was on a diet and why was i buying diet soda. i told her, "no. i am not on a diet but it really isn't your business anyway." her diet commentary continued as she scanned my yogurts, juice, and lean cuisine frozen meals - of which the frozen meals i often choose to eat on nights that i have practice since they are easy and take about five minutes to make. but it was really none of her business, and for that matter no one's business really. but her commentary had ONLY JUST BEGUN.
next up is my frozen spinach, broccoli, and brussels sprouts. to the third item, she exclaimed, "don't brussels sprouts make your pee smell funny?!" OH MY GAWD. PLEASE SHOOT ME IN THE FACE NOW. at this point, my face is hot and surely splotched with lovely red patches i could just tell...and then i started sweating. could she please just finish?!?! but she looks at me imploringly, like i was going to confirm or deny the fact that brussels sprouts, in fact, do make your pee smell funny. i mean, how do you respond to that?!?! i was flabberghasted and just stood there speechless.
moving on, she came across krusteaz blueberry pancake mix which i bought because my little sister introduced me to its wonderfulness this past weekend when i was snowed in eriePA. the cashier then starts talking about how great krusteaz is and how light and fluffy your damn pancakes end up being when made with this particular mix. screw bisquick and hungry jack. it's all about the krusteaz. now the thought of even making these pancakes makes my stomach turn. thanks cashier lady.
finally we get to my final two items - multi-purpose contact lens solution and a twenty ounce bottle of cherry coke zero because on an impulse, i HAD TO TRY IT. first she makes mention of the solution telling me that she KNEW i had to have contacts in because she ain't never seen no one's eyes so blue before. okay bithface. my eye color is real and i don't wear colored contacts, but it is no matter, because why would i even try to get a word in edgewise with Little Miss Cracky McTalksalot? then to the cherry coke zero. she had to declare that she KNEW i was on a diet even if i said i wasn't. you know, why else would a person even buy a diet soda product when they could have full sugar flavor? UGH. WHATEVER. then she hands me my soda and proceeds to ask me to open it and taste it in front of her. WAS I IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE?! yes. i think i was.
glory to the powers that be, she proceeded to total me out and eighty dollars and fifty-four items later, i escaped. i just about ran for my life when leaving the store. i mean, what kind of person does what she did when i was checking out?!?! so unnecessary and unnerving.
thankfully i wasn't buying tampons or condoms or something like that. what would i have been in for then? only she would know. of mystery horrifying hellish cashier.
that said, the most tolerable type of shopping for me is grocery shopping. i don't mind it - in fact i enjoy it when i manage to go at a time of day when the store isn't extraordinarily crowded and parents aren't there with their little kids who inevitably end up pushing their carts into your heels and ankles. but i digress...
my typical modus operandi is show up at the store with a list, and get through the aisles as quickly as possible while managing to retrieve everything needed. that was the methodology i was employing today, and boy did it work! i was in that store at 4:15PM and out by 4:48PM. yes! out before the post-work, post-daycare rush!
but you see, it wasn't an entirely joyous experience as i had to spend the last fifteen minutes or so in line with the cashier from hell. no seriously. you have no idea. at first glance, she appeared normal to the naked eye. but this really was not the case. oh no. not at all. but before i knew this, i had already put my bounty of food and dry goods on the conveyor belt.
i'm waiting as she sluggishly runs my six pack of quilted northern over the scanner, so i head down to the little pay area and think to myself, "oh man, i bet this is going to take at least seven minutes." wrong-o, septic. it was going to take about fifteen minutes of pure unadulterated horror. you see, with the toilet paper, she had not yet started her commentary on everything i was purchasing.
soon after - actually when she saw i was purchasing diet canada dry ginger ale, she asked me if i was on a diet and why was i buying diet soda. i told her, "no. i am not on a diet but it really isn't your business anyway." her diet commentary continued as she scanned my yogurts, juice, and lean cuisine frozen meals - of which the frozen meals i often choose to eat on nights that i have practice since they are easy and take about five minutes to make. but it was really none of her business, and for that matter no one's business really. but her commentary had ONLY JUST BEGUN.
next up is my frozen spinach, broccoli, and brussels sprouts. to the third item, she exclaimed, "don't brussels sprouts make your pee smell funny?!" OH MY GAWD. PLEASE SHOOT ME IN THE FACE NOW. at this point, my face is hot and surely splotched with lovely red patches i could just tell...and then i started sweating. could she please just finish?!?! but she looks at me imploringly, like i was going to confirm or deny the fact that brussels sprouts, in fact, do make your pee smell funny. i mean, how do you respond to that?!?! i was flabberghasted and just stood there speechless.
moving on, she came across krusteaz blueberry pancake mix which i bought because my little sister introduced me to its wonderfulness this past weekend when i was snowed in eriePA. the cashier then starts talking about how great krusteaz is and how light and fluffy your damn pancakes end up being when made with this particular mix. screw bisquick and hungry jack. it's all about the krusteaz. now the thought of even making these pancakes makes my stomach turn. thanks cashier lady.
finally we get to my final two items - multi-purpose contact lens solution and a twenty ounce bottle of cherry coke zero because on an impulse, i HAD TO TRY IT. first she makes mention of the solution telling me that she KNEW i had to have contacts in because she ain't never seen no one's eyes so blue before. okay bithface. my eye color is real and i don't wear colored contacts, but it is no matter, because why would i even try to get a word in edgewise with Little Miss Cracky McTalksalot? then to the cherry coke zero. she had to declare that she KNEW i was on a diet even if i said i wasn't. you know, why else would a person even buy a diet soda product when they could have full sugar flavor? UGH. WHATEVER. then she hands me my soda and proceeds to ask me to open it and taste it in front of her. WAS I IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE?! yes. i think i was.
glory to the powers that be, she proceeded to total me out and eighty dollars and fifty-four items later, i escaped. i just about ran for my life when leaving the store. i mean, what kind of person does what she did when i was checking out?!?! so unnecessary and unnerving.
thankfully i wasn't buying tampons or condoms or something like that. what would i have been in for then? only she would know. of mystery horrifying hellish cashier.
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