If Grocery Stores Could Kill: Kroger

I'm not sure if the holidays are becoming scarier than normal or if I am just becoming a pussy. (Mom, I apologize in advance if you read this. I am 100% sure you don't like that word.)

But back to the holidays. I am literally shaking in my boots. Why? People are CRAZY this time of year. CRAZY with a captial C, R, A, Z, Y. Yep, damn straight all the letters are capitalized. It's an epidemic.

So in my day to day life I don't really need to go to any retail stores (And yes, I make an effort to dodge that holiday bullet). My life is pretty much composed of driving to work, driving to school or driving to the gym. I usually try and roll grocery store trips in with the gym, but if the weather is good (which it has been) I skip the gym and run outside. Do you know what this means? It means I have to make a special trip to the grocery store. In my case its the Kroger at the Edgewood Shopping District.

Immediately after Halloween is when I noticed the change. Lines and lines of cars in the parking lot. Hmmm thats strange. I thought it was just a weird coincidence... everyone ran out of toilet paper at the exact same second! Wooo! Shake it dry!

Ha. Too graphic?

But, everyone didn't run out of toilet paper at the same time. No... They started taking CRAZY pills at the same time! True story. Nov. 1 I walk into the grocery store to stock up on the essentials (sweet potato patties, watermelon, more watermelon (I channel my inner black person on a daily basis), pineapple, bananas, blackberries, apples, corn tortillas, shredded mexican cheese and fruit on the bottom yogurt). WOOOOOO!

What do I see when I look in other people's shopping carts? Normal things?! NOOOOO! Every freaking person was fussing over which naked turkey they were going to take home. For God's sake people it's NOVEMBER 1ST!!!!

And the insanity didn't stop there. No, it just got worse. Unfortunately, since I seem to have a short term memory span I would conveniently forget about this mayhem and madness with each subsequent visit (about every 7-10 days).

Then... dun dun dun...

NOVEMBER 14 I became that person. That person that you and everyone else hates. I stole someones parking spot. Yes, me. Apparently if you are not me, but another driver in the grocery store parking lot the first available space is always yours. Yes, even if you don't put your blinker on to indicate that you are waiting for a space... Doesn't everyone do that?! Isn't that a rule?! Am I supposed to telepathically know that this space is yours even though you turned on to the lane after me and even though I had my blinker on before to indicate I was waiting?

Apparently this means nothing in Atlanta. I learned this, because after parking I was blocked in by the car I "stole" the spot from and yelled at. I vowed at that moment that I would stock up for the entire winter season so I could go into grocery store hibernation.

One problem. Toilet paper. Yesterday afternoon I ran out of toilet paper and I had already eaten a lot of watermelon. F******!!!!

I took a moment. I did some deep breathing. Yes, I would even say I found my zen. I reassured myself that I could, no WOULD do better. No more "stealing" people's parking spots at the grocery store.

I pulled into the Kroger parking lot. DEEEEEEEPPPPP BREATHSSSSS. I can do this! I pass the first lane and then the second (everyone wants to park close, I'll go to the back of the parking lot). I pull down the last lane. There is an empty spot and no cars around. SCORE!!!! I whip my car into the spot. But, I should know better. Luck NEH-EVER finds me. As I pull the keys out of the ignition and open the door, I see it. ANOTHER F****ING car is parked behind me!

Ok, really?! REALLY? I swear Kroger is full of driving Ninja's that are just trying to give me a heart attack.

And no, I am not ashamed to admit that I ran alllll the way into the store.

xoxo. Jildo

P.S. If you want to say prayers that I don't run out of anymore shit before Jan. 2 that would be great.

When the Shit Storm Won't Stop

So this week it happened again. The shit. And what do you do when life gives you shit? Make "shitade?" I don't think so.

I drive a 2005 Jeep Wrangler. I LOVE my car. If I could date my car, I would. Just kidding... kind of. But, seriously just kidding...

Monday I could tell something was wrong with my car, it didn't feel right when I was driving. You know what I'm talking about... when you drive the same car for 7 years you can tell when something is off. Only problem was I didn't know what was off. I figured it out pretty quickly Tuesday morning.

FAST FORWARD.

Tuesday morning 7am.

Me: "DAD!!!! Pick up your phone!!!! It's 7am I know you are awake!!!!

GAHHHHH. No answer. I try 4 more times then call my mom, who picks up immediately.

(Yes, she scores parent points. OBV.- especially since she's on central time and it's earlier)

Me: "Mom something is wrong with my car. I'm in 6th and its running like it's in 3rd!!!!"

5 minutes later my car is barely coasting to a stop on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere. Ok the middle of between my apartment and work. BFE. FUCK MY LIFE!!!! (Oh, I forgot no cursing....). F MY LIFE!!!!!

2 hours later the tow truck finally came. 5 hours later the mechanic finally called. YUP. It's your clutch. We have to order a new one from Ohio... it will be here Friday. We'll have your car back to you in 6 days. Oh, and it's only $990.49. No worries!

COUGH! Yes, the shit storm will not stop. Thank you Car Gods.

Naturally as soon as I got to school that night I went to the bar before class to get a beer to take the edge off. Then during break went down to have a red headed slut. It was a rough day Tuesday. Then my seat mate in accounting judged me for taking a shot to wake up and my professor called me out in front of the class and called me a liar.

HA. Oh awesomeness is just abounding this week. Just abounding.

xoxo. Jildo or SALSA (as now everyone is becoming to know me. GAH.)

Black Bean Salsa

Before I begin my apologies to everyone last night (except the guy I gave the finger- that still stands). Special thanks to Jimmy (for getting my ass a cab), Kroge (for literally getting my ass in the cab), Jaynia and Dani (for not calling me an ambulance, for not hating me, for being really, really awesome friends... the list pretty much goes on and on for you two).

***

Ok, here goes.

I did it again. I salsa'd. Only this time it wasn't at a charity golf tournament, it was the GaTech MBA pub crawl. I know, worst possible situation EVER.

When I was in high school my best friend and I liked to play "Let's Ruin Our Lives." I'm not even joking, we'd do stupid stuff, knowing the outcome would not be good. We wanted to see how bad we could "F" things up and then recover. We were bored, obviously.

Now here I am 27 and I'm still doing the same thing. Except now I wouldn't say its a conscious decision. Yesterday somehow/somewhere between my first beer and my last beer, I had tooo many. The next thing I know I'm on the floor of the bathroom, donating black bean salsa (which I'm still confused about, because all I ate yesterday was cereal and mac and cheese- yes, I know I'm such a little kid) to the toilet.

FACE PALM. Wait, no... FACE BATHROOM FLOOR. 10 minute rule? GAHHHHHHHHH. So gross.

My friends got me outside at the waitress' request and I immediately snuggled up on the concrete. Ahhhh, bedtime! You might be intoxicated if... concrete is comfortable. Here's your sign! But, obviously by that time recovery is out of the question... as well as water. Stop offering me!

So I know I was the wasted one and really have no right to say anything... but I think we have all been there. Lying on the floor and someone keeps telling us we should move. Ok, fine, I get it. But, when I'm laying on the floor in my own puke and some stranger comes up to me and starts telling me what to do... ahem. Excuse me?! Now I'm gonna get feisty. I definitely shot some guy the bird multiple times.

No. I don't feel bad about that... especially after learning that he called my friends "bad friends" for not calling me an ambulance. An ambulance?! Really? Holy shit (my mom does say shit)... thank goodness they didn't! I'm drunk, I'm not lying in the middle of the road with a severed limb. NOTE TO WORLD: No one is calling me an ambulance but me, because I'm the one that's gonna pay for it!!!!

Sigh. This. This whole situation is probably why my parents threatened to pull me out of undergrad my first semester. Some people just never learn. And, yes, by some people I mean me.

Sorry :/.

xoxo. Jildo

No More Cursing, Fudge!

Lol. We'll see how this works. After my last blog, my grandfather's wife texted me: "I agree with your mom, if I didn't know you and just read your blog I would think you are a completely different person."

My response, but you do know me! Haha. I guess that doesn't fly.

Anyways, what am I talking about? I'm going generic. I'm tired of talking about money, aside from paying my monthly installments to Emory's ER I am so over it.

I talked to my Ex's mother last weekend. GASP. No, its really not that abnormal... or maybe it is? When you date someone for 5 years their family becomes your family, so when you break up, you break up with them and keep their family. At least I did. Ok, maybe a little weird.

Weirder? I think they like me better now.

So I'm talking to the ex's mom and I mention my idea that I am too selfish to have kids... not so much a relationship, but possibly kids. When we broke up they told me that it was for the best, because I like change and he didn't... that I always want an adventure. And it is completely true, once I'm comfortable I want to move on.

I started to think that this quality makes me weird. Sure, I want to find love and have a family, but what if I'm too *darn* selfish? What if achieving my goals, which trust me are never ending, means I can't have a real relationship? It happened to Madonna! Guy Ritchie broke up with her because it was more important to her to work out than hang out with him (at least that's what I heard on the radio- so it has to be 100% true).

But seriously. The older we get, statistically speaking (I am all about this now) I would think it is less likely for us to find a compadre. Why? Because we are comfortable with ourselves. I sure as heck am. I'm happy! I have my own place, I like my job, I feel fulfilled, I'm proud of myself, I'm not lonely. Which means we are less likely to settle. Which is great! No one should settle- but how is it possible that all of these married people did not settle? I just want to know.

While having drinks after class tonight the single question came up. "So what's your excuse?" Well I'm *darn* picky thank you. And I brought up the fact that there are a buhjillian people in the world and I'm just looking for one person... it could take awhile!!! But the general consensus seemed to be that there are probably thousands of people in Atlanta alone that I could "get along with and be happy with."

I'm sorry. Did I say I was looking for someone to "get along with"? When you experience it you know it-- and unless I have fireworks and am laughing my *** off everyday and think you are the bees knees this is not happening. Right?! Do I just have a skewed perception of reality?

How many times in your life have you hit it off with someone? How many times has someone accepted you 100% for who you are? And how many times have you respected that person equally as much as they do you? And then there's attraction? Personality? Morals? Beliefs? Drive?

How many times have you know without a doubt that you would give your life for someone else's? Because they were just that awesome. I mean it doesn't happen that often.

Sure a lot of people are great... but great doesn't mean anything.