Grocery Slore

Cute little Kitchen!

So I've moved up to NYC in an adorable neighborhood on the Upper West Side called Manhattan Valley, which sounds much more idyllic than it ought to. It's been exactly one week and I've gotten lost in Central Park twice, had a weirdo follow me from train car to train car on the subway, and eaten two cannoli.

This morning I went big girl grocery shopping for the first time. Now, I've gone grocery shopping a lot. But I used to live in a thirteen-girl vegan local foods co-op where I was cooking meals for 20+ people. I've gone grocery shopping for breakfast and lunch stuff my whole life. But all of a sudden I'm grocery shopping for just me, for all of the food I'll ever need to satiate my little tummy.

The first mistake I made was googling "Grocery Shopping for One." Never do that. You want to kill yourself. You end up on blogs titled, like, "Single and Ambitious WomYn" or "D-vorced and D-lighted." Basically, a lot of blogs that make you shout back at your computer "No! No! I'm a funky, fun individual that isn't destined to live with cats and seek out free Central Park events for the rest of her life."

Once I got into the grocery store, there was the dilemma of the cart versus the hand basket. The cart provides more space and easy management but suggests you are shopping for a family, possibly a significant other. A cart shouldn't be filled with Lean Cuisine ~Singlez~ Meals. So I went with the hand basket and immediately regretted it once I filled it with three onions and it got super heavy. I also regretted picking up three onions, but I'm still not sure of produce touching and returning etiquette. (This is why I purchased three onions, two green squash, and a single potato.)

I tried to buy meat, but it was so overwhelming I bought a pack of tofu that was also advertising Madagascar the movie. I might go see the movie to fulfill the bizarre advertising.

Everything else went along pretty smoothly. I ate too many cheese samples and got a little sluggish toward the end. The thing that got me the most, however, was buying butter. I just wanted a stick of butter to have for pasta, eggs, breads, WHATEVER. But you can't just buy a single stick of butter you have to buy a pack of four sticks of butter. Now, if I were shopping for my family, I'd be like "Hecky yeah! Load 'er up." But I wasn't. I was shopping for just me and all of a sudden I'm committing to four sticks of butter and a lifetime of diabetic ailments. Or heart attacks. But I surely wouldn't eat all that butter at once. Or in like a month. Unless, I do eat the equivalent of four sticks of butter in a month, in which case I need to overhaul my life choices and probably eat a raw vegan dumpster diet and get in touch with Jillian Michaels. I put down the pack of butter(s?) and made the executive decision to go to a deli or diner and just steal a bunch of tiny butter packets and stock up on them.

So, my next post will be going to a diner completely alone with the covert mission of stealing butter....
Until next time!

Oh me, OPI!

Lincoln Park After Dark
This is for the adventurer in you! The one that likes to take back alleys at 2 am, while talking loudly about your credit card or how expensive your heels are. It's for the part of you that walks into a dark room closes the door, then turns the lights on. GO crazy! Take a chance! Get mugged!



Barefoot in Barcelona
Like, Lincoln Park After Dark, BiB is not for the faint of heart. As any fabulous jet setter knows, Barcelona is one of Europe's party capitals and the perfect place to go clubbing after a luxurious day on la playa. But what you might not know is that Barcelona carries at least 12 unique , chic, strains of tetanus. That's enough for each little toe of yours, plus two for y'all freaks with twelve toes. Happy travels!


Did it On 'Em
Yep, you heard OPI. Do it on them, ya freak!

Sprang

This past weekend was the most Spring-a-licious one all year. It gave me that good belly feeling of barbeques to come.

I spend time with my spirit animal the rabbit, which is always rewarding. I know, I know,

having a spirit animal I might as well bathe in patchouli and name my son Moonflower, and you know, maybe I will. But I will probably name him RabbitLochen or something forest-like and unforgiving.

I was born the day after Easter, so on Easter Monday, and my mama has always called me her little east

er bunny. From that, I've always been gifted bunny things- jewelry, fabrics, stationary, the occasional rabbits foot. A friend gave me this rabbit ring---->

Anyways, if Rabbits are my spirit animal then Spring is my spirit season so take me away mild allergy ridden weather, I am yours.

~Boyz~

I am here to declare that I luv boyz. And this may come as a surprise, because 1) half of everyone thought I was a lurzbian and 2) I'm at an age where I should be loving men. But I don't. I luv boyz. And I keep spelling it that way because I'm obvi not a pedo-creepo hanging out outside of high school dances or helping 14 year olds sneak into R-rated movies, in which case I would write "I love boys."

But boyz and luv are a type of giggle in the back of your throat when you see some twenty somethings skateboard down the street and their boxers are all bunched and sticking out and you are like 'o damn i am in luv.'

I think thats why I like Paul Rudd so much. No matter how old or whatever he gets he still has that boyish smirk and I will luv it 4ever

NCCF

So excited for this http://skidmorecomfest.tumblr.com/

Been in the gym workin on mah fitness, in hopes of doing lesbian Wonder Woman some justice.

Also, if "I didn't know I was pregnant" is a scary show, than "I can't believe I'm not pregnant" would be a really sad show. It could, however, be sponsored by "I can't believe it's not butter."

Happy Dolly Monday!