Tag Archives: Shopping

Meet Super (Blind) Girl

I have a superpower.  Now, if I had a choice as to what superpower I would have, it wouldn’t be this one.  My first choice would be the ability to fly.  After that, I think maybe super-healing (because chopping vegetables while blind never ends well) or maybe immortality, because awesome.  It wasn’t up to me, though, so what I ended up with was this:  when I’m out running errands, I have the ability to go into a store and walk right up to the thing I’m looking for, even when I have no idea where it is and I can’t see it or anything around it.  Useful, but no one’s going to make a movie out of that anytime soon.  I don’t think.  Unless I can figure out how to sparkle while I do it.

edward cullen

Edward Cullen by Joel Kuiper, licensed by CC

My superpower became apparent a while ago when I was out with a friend shopping for a garlic press.  We were at Overpriced Behemoth Box Store (not the actual name, unless we’re being honest) in which literally thousands of items of varying degrees of usefulness were shelved, hung, and piled up farther than the eye, or my eye at least, could see.  We resigned ourselves to a minimum twenty-minute session of squinting and swearing, girded our loins, and went once more unto the breach.  I forded a nearby aisle, picked something up at random to see what it was, and yes:  it was indeed a garlic press.  Or should I say, it was the garlic press, because not only was it the thing I was looking for, it was the only one in the entire store.  All this while my Totally Sighted Friend was searching fruitlessly right beside me.  Hand to God, and I have a witness.

It’s gotten to the point that my Totally Sighted Friend will take me to the grocery store, tell me what she needs, and then follow me around until I find it.  One day she needed potatoes, so I wandered into the produce aisle, picked up a kumquat, put down the kumquat because I’ve never been sure what a kumquat is, thought I might like some cheese, and on the way to the cheese stand nearly ran into the potatoes.  Totally Sighted Friend seriously and with opportunism aforethought just leaned on the cart and watched me amble around until I stopped and went, “Hey! Potatoes!”  Which were right next to the onions I remembered I needed when two of them fell into my shopping cart.  They were specifically yellow onions, too, which was the kind I  wanted.  That’s really what makes it a super-power:  it’s so freaking specific.

i__m_a_goddamn_superhero_by_woodstock_chan-d397ahb

copyright 2011-2016 by woodstock-chan on deviantart.com http://fav.me/d397ahb

Of course, with great power comes great responsibility.  For instance, I have to be careful when I’m looking for something sharp or heavy that I don’t have anyone near me at the time lest they find themselves minus a finger or plus a concussion, because if I don’t immediately find whatever I’m looking for, it will launch itself at me, and not all coffee-makers have good aim.  I also have to watch out that the things I’m looking for don’t spill themselves all over the floor beside me and trip some innocent bystander who didn’t realize who they were standing next to.  As Super (Blind) Girl, it is my duty to minimize collateral damage in the fight of good against evil, and by good against evil I mean me against whatever idiot decided to reorganize the grocery store aisles I had so carefully memorized (side note to whoever did that:  I hope that when you go home, your mother runs out from under the porch and bites you).

Yea, verily, the life of a superhero is fraught with peril.  As I walk this lonely road, gentle readers, do not envy me, but follow at a safe distance, because there’s a decent chance I’ll accidentally find whatever it is you’re looking for.  By the way, I also have the power to draw smiley faces on the insides of basketballs, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to take that one on faith. 🙂

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Quiz: Am I a girl or not?

I’ve been home sick for a couple of days.  For the most part I’ve just been curled up miserably, waiting for the worst of it to pass.  When that palls, though, I’ve been reading trashy articles on What Guys Like and How To Tell If He’s The One.  I always get it wrong–I don’t know what guys like and I couldn’t tell if he’s the one if you put a gun to my head.  It’s left me with some confusion:  am I a girl or not?

So, in honor of all the quizzes I’ve been doing about What Jeans Are Best For Your Body Shape and Which Sex Goddess Are You, I’ve created a quiz for all those who are with me on the whole Cosmo-doesn’t-always-speak-for-me front.  If you like, you can take this quiz pretending you’re me and see if you think I’m a girl, or you can take it for yourself.  Either way, have fun, and tell me your results!  I promise I won’t make fun of you.  To your face.  And for heaven’s sake:  this is meant as a joke!

A.  You’ve been dating a guy for three months.  You think he’s great, he thinks you’re beautiful without your makeup, all is paradise.  He takes you out somewhere special and, after dinner, hands you a gift: an emerald bracelet.  You think:

  1. How thoughtful!  And so beautiful!  I wonder if there’s a matching necklace coming in another three months…
  2. Gonna have to take out a rider on the homeowner’s insurance for this one.
  3. When have I ever worn a bracelet around him?
  4. That’s really expensive for a three month ‘anniversary.’  And who celebrates three month anniversaries, anyway?
  5. I hope he doesn’t mind that I only got him a subscription to Real Simple.

B.  You’re out about town, running some errands.  You pass a new shoe store and:

  1. Go in, duh!
  2. Leave an impression of your nose against the glass, but don’t actually go in.  You can tell just by looking that the shoes in the store are outside your budget.
  3. Think, I should probably get some new nude pumps one of these days…and keep walking.  You’re probably good for another 6 months or so.
  4. Think, if I wore any of the shoes in the window of that store, I would snap my ankles before I made it to the sidewalk.  Why do women do that to themselves?
  5. Think, Isn’t that where the kitchen supplies store was?  Now where am I going to get a decent pasta maker?

C.  You have three free hours that must, for various reasons, be spent at a very large shopping mall, and for once you have some disposable income.  You:

  1. Thank the shopping gods that you wore a button-down shirt (won’t mess up the hair when changing in dressing rooms), take a look over the mall directory, and map out a plan of campaign.
  2. Take a minute to think about what you actually need to buy, make all your purchases in a department store, then buy a magazine and stow away in the Food Court.
  3. Take a look at what you want to buy in the stores, then look online with your smartphone and find out that you can buy it for half that much online, finally leaving without purchasing anything.
  4. Look only at the bargain racks of every store you enter, leaving with five bags full of various items you may or may not actually need that cost you a total of $37.29.
  5. Hit the kitchenware first.  Hey, you’ve been looking for a decent pasta maker ever since that shoe store replaced the kitchen supply store in your neighborhood.

D.  One of your girlfriends has just broken up with her long-term boyfriend and is a sobbing mess on her living room floor.  You, as one of her dearest friends:

  1. Rush over armed with ice cream, wine, and movies, collecting the rest of your friends on the way for maximum comfort.
  2. Rush over armed with minor explosives and the blueprints to the bastard’s house, collecting the rest of your friends on the way for an all-out assault.
  3. Post a comforting, supportive message on Facebook, then finish eating dinner.
  4. Finish eating dinner, then post a comforting, supportive message on Facebook.
  5. Talk to her on the phone about how much better off she is without him, and offer to make her some spaghetti with your new pasta maker.  You can really taste the difference!

E.  You’re at work and a very large insect scuttles across the carpet right by your office door.  You:

  1. Shriek and beg one of your male coworkers to kill it.  You can handle cantankerous clients and hostile takeover bids, but you’re terrified of bugs.
  2. Shriek and beg one of your male coworkers to kill it not because you’re terrified of bugs, but because you don’t want to get bug guts on your shoes by stomping on it.
  3. Stomp on it.
  4. Make fun of your female coworkers who shrieked, and then stomp on it.
  5. Catch the bug in an improvised container and drop it out the window.  You don’t want to push the eggs into the carpet where they can hatch.

Answers:

Mostly 1’s:  Congratulations, you’re a Cosmo-approved girl!  I’ve never met one of you, but I’ve heard rumors of your existence for years.  If we ever meet, please tell me:  what is the point of a manicure if it chips within five minutes of leaving the salon?

Mostly 2’s:  You’re me.  Sorry about that.  You may or may not qualify as a girl.  Expensive jewelry makes you a little nervous, you love shoes but only buy them rarely, and you’ve taken to heart the saying that the female of the species is deadlier than the male.

Mostly 3’s:  Even I think you’re boring.  Wear a little pink from time to time, and would the occasional ruffle or velvet bow kill you?  You’re female!  Have fun with it!  And if you don’t want to wear pink, I don’t blame you at all.  I don’t like pink, either.  Or ruffles.  Or velvet bows.  But then, I may not actually be a girl.

Mostly 4’s:  You may be a dude.  That’s fine, if that’s what you’re going for.  It’s really less about the trappings and more about the fun of being a chick with other chicks and having fun being chicks together.  However, if your best girlfriend breaks up with her long-term boyfriend, you must go over there and comfort her.  Facebook isn’t going to cut it.

Mostly 5’s:  You’re my sister.  She’s a mom, which is a special subset of being a girl.  She’s smart, sexy, sensible, and scary all at the same time.  It’s a superpower you get when you give birth.  Or adopt.  Just go easy on the pasta makers.

So, are you a girl or not?  I think my official result is that I’m a girl, but with reservations.  I’m going to a remedial class on pearls and twinsets, but I think I’m going to blow it off for an evening showing of Prometheus.  What were your results?  If you’re a guy and you got the result that you’re my sister, I’m really not sure what to tell you, except that the post is already filled.  By a chick.  God, Gloria Steinem’s going to put a hit out on me!

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Grocery shopping, pirate-style

Captain Jack Sparrow

Image via Wikipedia

This is what it’s like in my head when I drink way too much Red Bull and then go grocery shopping while trying to come up with a topic for a blog post:

Avast, ye scurvy internet dogs!  This be the dread Captain LBG.  The ship be low on vittles, and our mission be to plunder yon grocery store to replace our dwindling supplies.  We’ll fall on the unsuspectin’ townsfolk and carry off their produce, their women, and their doubloons.  Be not faint of heart, ye scallywags, but follow me to glory, treasure, and victuals!

Where be the salted beef?  I have no learnin’ meself, but me first mate says this label reads “Organic, Free Range.”  What be the meanin’ o’ this nonsense?  Must I be killin’ the cow meself?  Ahoy, here be eggs!  Aye, “farm fresh” indeed.  In all my world-wanderings under the Jolly Roger, I’ve yet to see a farm with the looks of this store.  But they’ll fry well enough, or I’ll come back and make the store clerk walk the plank!

What lily-livered, black-hearted trick is this?  “Cran-apple raspberry juice beverage”?  Shiver me timbers, this be only ten percent juice!  Even pirate scum such as meself would not be pulling something so mean as this.  Merciless attack on a naval vessel, naturally; ransoming a beautiful lass, of course; but even a pirate has his limits.  Down to the depths with the bottom-feeding landlubbers who make juice beverages!

Back to the ship, ye good-for-nothing sons of dogs!  It be serving us right for shopping at Davy Jones’ Groceries.  Just one more stop for a bottle of rum and we’re off.  Haul the anchor or I’ll keelhaul the lot of ye!  Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!

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Clothes I just don’t get

I love clothes.  I’m a girl, a girly girl, with purses and shoes and makeup and everything.  But even I’ll admit that some clothes, I don’t get.  This came home to me while I was perusing one of those online sample sale things where the designer clothes are marked way, way down to prices still completely outside my price range.  It’s safer to internet-shop than to window-shop, I’ve found, primarily because there are no dressing rooms online.  Still, no dressing room is going to make any of these things make sense to me:

1.  Jeggings

Leggings and jeans should never go together.  What was the inventor of jeggings thinking? “Hmm, what should I wear today, leggings or jeans?  It’s impossible to choose, they’re both so comfortable and flattering.  I know!  I’ll combine the two into something not nearly as comfortable as either leggings or jeans and horrifically unflattering into the bargain!  Wow, this fashion contribution is going right up there with the poncho, I can just tell!”

 

2.  Partial bikini sale

Technically, this isn’t an objection to an item of clothing, but it’s related.  I don’t understand why I keep seeing one part of a bikini on sale.  Except in certain parts of Europe, the two parts go together.  Was one half of the bikini flying off the shelves, but try as they might, the stores just couldn’t move the other half?  I don’t understand.

 

 

 

3.  Miniskirt and Uggs together

College girls, you know you’re guilty of this.  Just because you’re little and cute doesn’t excuse this fashion absurdity (disclaimer: there is a vocal minority that would say otherwise.  They can find their own blog.  In fact, I’m pretty sure they already have).  If it’s warm enough to wear a miniskirt, it’s too warm to wear fleece-lined boots.  If it’s cold enough that you need fleece-lined boots, it’s too cold to wear a miniskirt, I don’t care how thick your tights are.  Just stop.

 

4.  Skinny jeans

I firmly believe that Kate Moss invented these in order to have something that makes her look like she has hips.  For everyone else on the planet, these just make us look chunky around the middle and generally ill-proportioned.  Wearing skinny jeans will, alas, not make us look like Kate Moss.  That requires years of conscientious anorexia and diligent purging.  Until then, just wait patiently for this tragic fad to pass.

 

5.  Short-sleeved coats

WTF?  I mean, seriously, WTF?

 

 

 

 

 

 

And there you have it.  Shopping with the Little Blind Girl is a mix of high-pitched squeals, sudden rushes into the sock section, and holding out an item of clothing in utter confusion, wondering how much someone got paid to design it and what they were on at the time.  Someday someone is going to wear a bikini top with a miniskirt over skinny jeggings and Uggs, all covered with a short-sleeved coat, and my head is going to explode.  I’ll bet if I looked hard enough, I could find a picture on the Internet of someone dressed like that right now.

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Look! Elvis!

List of VeggieTales episodes

Image via Wikipedia

I was out with my girlfriends celebrating a birthday among us.  The path to the restaurant took us past a favorite clothing store of mine, one I always beg my friends to go in, I promise I’m just going to look at socks, really I mean it this time, and then I inevitably veer off toward shoes and general apparel once I’ve gone through the socks.  To avoid being dragged out of the store by my friends, I’ll usually point and say something like “Look!  Elvis!” and then run off in the opposite direction while they’re looking for the King.  What gets me about that technique is not that it works despite the fact that Elvis is dead, it’s that it works repeatedly on the same people.

This time, my friend turned to me and said, “Can you feel the vacuum from the sock store pulling you in?”  And I could, I really could, but what struck me most about that remark was the idea of a store entirely devoted to socks.  If we had such a place in my hometown, I’m not sure I’d ever leave.  I love socks.  I own about four pairs of socks for every pair of shoes.  I talk to my socks when I’m picking out which pair to put on.  I have froggy ankle socks that say “Ribbit” and knee-high stripey socks and full-length argyle tights, and everything in between.  If I pass a store that sells socks, I have to go in.  I have a problem, I know it, and I’m never, ever seeking help.

During my friend’s birthday dinner we were talking about the usual:  boys, hair, what to post on my blog.  I would drift off every so often and start imagining a socks-only store that sold socks of every type and description.  I’d come back to myself and rejoin the conversation only to drift off again a few minutes later.  One of my friends guessed what I was daydreaming of and said, “If that’s what you’re fixated on, I guess there are worse things to obsess over.”  I immediately responded, “Like Johnny Depp.  Ooh!  Shopping for socks with Johnny Depp!”  One friend said, “Now that’s a blog post topic!”  Another friend replied, “That’s a therapy session!”

I like to think we’re all correct.  In my head, I’m shopping for socks with Johnny Depp right now, and it’s marvelous.  I’m sure my therapist will agree.

Rainbow striped toe socks worn with thong sandals

Image via Wikipedia

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Operation Black Friday

So we’ve all seen the headlines about what may have been the craziest Black Friday in history:  pepper spray, smash-and-grab, bloody fights with shoplifters.  Now, of course, it would be nice if we could all be civilized and remember that wanting to buy a crate of X-box consoles is not really provocation for physical violence, no matter how good the price. But this is America, and that’s a bit pie in the sky, isn’t it?  So I have a different idea:  instead of trying to fight it, just go with it.

Hear me out:  we’ve already got a really cool spec-ops name for it:  Operation Black Friday.  Stores will coordinate the exact opening times for the front doors, perhaps using those cool head-set thingies to communicate about the anticipated onslaught and their sales associates’ readiness capacity.  They’ll go to radio silence just before midnight, and the store managers will be doing those hand-signal things to the associate managers to direct them on the field.  Shoppers will come prepared for battle, wearing night-vision goggles looted during a previous Black Friday (spoils of war?) and decked out in protective gear.  I’d recommend stopping short of using tasers, as has been suggested, but again–this is America.

We could have training classes leading up to it, covering tactics, hand-to-hand combat, and comparison shopping under siege.  What a great form of exercise, and with self-defense built right in!  We would truly be the most feared nation on earth; imagine attackers plotting against us, spying and doing recon, and then reporting back to their leaders that all Americans over the age of sixteen know how to render an assailant unconscious using only a USB cable and a value pack of men’s underwear.  We’d be the new Sparta!  Those who are left at home would tell the valiant warriors, “Come back with Modern Warfare 3 or on it!”

I think this could be a turning point in our history.  Black Friday is not for the faint of heart.  Navy SEALS are taxed to their limits.  We’ve got untapped potential, here, people.  Let’s not waste it.

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