Missed Connections in the Supermarket

Last night, after getting home from work, I opened my fridge.  What to eat.  Now of course, the daily will power struggle continues (a moment on the lips, forever on the hips-- boy was Nana right), and I am trying to eat healthfully.  But the ingredients in my fridge were as follows: baby carrots, piece of leftover chocolate cake, lemon juice.  Here are the ones in my cabinet: ginger bread mix (requires eggs, so that's a no), sea salt, half a bar of dark chocolate, a half full bottle of whiskey.  I may be desperate to lose the weight for the Oscars, but a woman can't live off of carrot soup and hot toddy alone.  Well, it would do for the night.

This morning, however, I awoke with a sense of urgency.  That "something's gotta give" feeling (not the movie! sheesh-- have you seen it?  Okay here we go again on a quick aside about the movie "Something's Gotta Give."  That's the one with Diane Lane and Keanu Reeves and they have three daughters played by Mandy Moore and Lindsay Lohan and John Krasinski.  Moore looks like a fucking cadillac in lingerie, and Lohan seems unsure of where she is, but Krasinski charms as the transgender with the heart of gold, channeling Swayze in "To Wong Foo..." anyway it's about the daughters' struggle for love during the pro-sex feminist movement of the 80s and they all find love by placing ads in the paper saying "must love dogs."  Or some shit.  My cousin really liked that movie, she made me watch it.)  So I woke up with a sense of urgency, felt that something had to give, realized it was my hunger, rode my bike to get tacos, felt full, took a nap, dicked around on the internet, etc etc.  It was then and only then, after the etc., that I was finally ready to admit I needed to go the grocery store.

It was there, at the market, that I may have met the love of my life.  So now, without any further silliness, I will address an open letter to him.

Dear Missed Connection at the Ralph's:

You: wearing navy.  Ah, navy, the color that only fascinating people can wear because the color itself is so boring.  Anyway, you were wearing it.  Head to toe.  Navy sweatshirt, dark navy washed jeans, and navy and gray walking/hiking hybrid shoes.  You said, "Sorry, can you move?  I can't quite see the Twinings."

Me: ghetto fab meets geek chic, nice sneakers and thick frames, ya heard?  I was standing in front of the tea because I wanted some, not because I'm one of those worthless pieces of shit that stands in the aisle because they don't have jack to do.  And even though I had every right to be there in front of the Irish Breakfast and I knew it, I still moved over.  I wheeled my cart into the hot cocoa section and burned the death stare into the back of your head.  

But then you spoke: "Ah, yes, yes. That's it.  Now I can survey.  See it all.  Yep (kneeling down) oooh, my back, ooh, okay there, okay.  Ah, yep, that's the one I wanted, great.  Great.  Now what else do I need..."  

Two options: 1. You have Aspergers.  2. You are the real life Dr. Ian Malcom (ha- second reference of the year, folks!)  If 2. is true, then proceed to contact me via this blog, and we will be happily married.  If 1. is true, continue leading your life as a chemist or library scientist until you one day meet a waitress at a truck stop in Amarillo, Texas and marry her.  If neither one is true: You're just an utterly impatient person who couldn't wait the five seconds while I chose my Twinings.  You had to have yours right then!  If this third, wildcard option is true, then you open the door only to find that there is a pack of wolves waiting for you: you are attacked by them and die.  I really do hope you get attacked by wolves, you deserve it, dick wad.

 

As usual, thanks for reading...and for all you homemakers who wanted that carrot soup recipe: here it is:

Sad as Fuck Cause I'm Poor and Ain't Got a Man Soup:

bag of baby carrots (week old-- you've got to be able to see the white dryness)

hot water

salt and pep and/or tears

lemon juice (to taste)

Have a week.

-Senora Dios