Whole Foods and Rita's Water Ice: A Colossal Disappointment

This is a two-part issue. Here is the first one:

My friend and I visited Rita's Water Ice. I was feeling joyous and free as I selected one of the two brand new flavors. "Honeydew!" I declared, eager with curiosity and wonder, as this would be my first time tasting this particular flavor. "I'm sorry. We are out of honeydew," the Rita's employee, who looked barely old enough to legally scoop water ice, told me. Although I felt slightly crushed, I recovered quickly. "Cantaloupe, please," was my next request. By the time the cup of cantaloupe water ice was handed to me, I was happily devouring it, honeydew a distant and unimportant memory. "Boy this cantaloupe water ice is good! I'm going to eat this everyday for the rest of my wretched life!" This is when a man sitting on a nearby bench, who we will refer to as "Damper #1," had to insert his unsolicited comment into the situation: "Well, Rita's closes in September." As things quickly began to deteriorate, my friend, who we will refer to as "Damper #2," felt the need to add to this debacle: "I see a flaw in your plan already," he commented. What had started out as a beautiful day, filled with butterflies, unicorns, and water ice, had disintegrated into a black hole of despair.

And here is the second part:

There are certain things that I like about Whole Foods. They certainly have some products that I really enjoy, that I can't seem to find elsewhere.

Let me start over.

There is absolutely nothing that I like about Whole Foods. However, I did go in there tonight to get something for dinner. I was pleasantly surprised to hear "Whisper to a Scream," by Icicle Works-- one of my personal favorites from the 80s. I did a nearly-covert, yet slightly noticeable dance, in the frozen food aisle, as I was pleased that my shopping experience now had a soundtrack. I ended up dancing my way over to the ice pops. I was overwhelmed by the many shelves of frozen treats. I wasn't sure what I wanted, but I had no doubt that I'd find it there.

I opened one of the freezer doors, and almost passed out with excitement-- mini ice cream sandwiches!! When I noticed that these were available in mint, it became clear that I was going to have to ask someone to call 9-1-1. Just as I was about to ask nearest employee for the cardiac defibrillator, I noticed that these treats were dairy-free. Anguish and sorrow washed over me, as this was my second frozen treat disappointment in three days.

As I took a moment to practice my coping skills, I realized that there were still additional freezer doors to open. I opened Door #2, anxious to see what prizes were awaiting me. I peered into the freezer, and saw the word "coconut." I threw open the freezer door, ready to grab the box of coconut-whatevers, and run the hell out of that obnoxious/overpriced/organic/vegan/vegetable/dairy-hating store. A closer look at the box informed me that these were not coconut-flavored ice cream bars; rather, they were made with some coconut crap, and did not include any dairy products at all. The next few moments were nothing short of horrific-- I went from freezer to freezer; shelf to shelf-- and saw words and phrases like: "Vegan!," "Made with Real Almonds-- Not Milk!," and "Organic!" I began to feel dizzy and suffocated by all the fake dairy products.

This entry will now end. The ending will probably be different than most endings that you are used to. Read on-- this is from a Gmail chat conversation that was taking place as I was trying to figure out the ending. I had asked a friend for advice.

Me: I'm having difficulty ending my blog entry. It's like a crash landing.
G: How so?
Me: Well, it just ends. There's nothing funny about it; nothing cool. Just ends. It's just like, “Eeeeeerrrrr... PLOMP.”
G: Not everything has to end funny or cool. Did it reach a logical end?
Me: I guess, but should I just write "Eeeeeeerrrr... PLOMP" to end it??
G: I like "eeer plomp" as an ending
Me: Really? Should it be "eeeeeeeeeeer" or "eeeeeaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrr?"
G: That is really up to the artist
Me: This is a tough decision.

The end.

One-Up

An exchange that occurred between me and my friend on Gmail chat. It showcases my neurotic need to want to be better than everyone else.

Me: I have a mosquito bite.
G: I have a piranha bite
Me: I have a shark bite.
G: I have an alien from the movie 'Alien' bite
Me: I was eaten by a shark and I'm typing on my laptop from inside his stomach.
G: Really? There's an electrical outlet in a sharks stomach? Nice try.
Me: No, there isn't-- but the shark also ate an electric eel, so I'm sitting here with my power supply plugged into the eel's mouth.
G: That didn't happen
Me: You don't know that.
G: Alright, I am going to step away from the computer now. Night night.
Me: Goodnight. I'll just be floating here, in this shark. Talk to you tomorrow.

My Mom Said...

In April, I began to write down some of my most memorable exchanges with my mother. These have been written down verbatim. They have not been altered in any way.

Mom: You know who I can't stand?
Me: Who?
Mom: That Arnold Schwartzendigger.
Me: Schwartzendigger?
Mom: Oh, I mean Schwartzenberger.

Me: I went to the gym at 10:15pm last night.
Mom: 10:15??? I certainly hope you drove there at that hour!!! Well??... did you drive, or were you walking the streets???

Me: There are no male staff at my job.
Mom: At least there's nobody for you to flirt with.
Me: What? You have nobody to drive the forklift?

Mom: Good luck tomorrow. Call me to let me know how it goes, but not between 8pm and 10pm because "Dancing with the Stars" is on.
Me: But mom, I have the seder after work.
Mom: I know. You can call me on your lunch hour or around 5:30pm. Good luck. I love you. You will do great. I have faith in you. Just don't do anything stupid.

Mom: What are you doing tomorrow?
Me: Volunteering for Jewish Federation of Philadelphia-- doing yard work for elderly people who can't do it themselves.
Mom: Jewish people?
Me: I don't know-- why?
Mom: I didn't think Jewish people needed volunteers to do that-- wouldn't they just hire a lawn service?

Mom: Soon you will be discovered by a talent scout.
Me: Doing what?
Mom: He will say-- "You can have any job you want."
Me: I think you got "talent scout" confused with "genie."

Mom: Today is in the past.
Me: No, mom. It's actually in the present.
Mom: Well, you know what I mean.

"The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People"-- Revised

When I see someone reading on the subway, I do my best to look at the title of the book. I get especially excited when I find that it's a self-help book. If you're anything like me, and you like to stare and people and then pretend you are having an ocular seizure when they catch you doing it, then you probably find yourself frequently asking the question, "What's wrong with this person?" Well, when you are privileged enough to encounter a person reading a self-help book, you can simply take a look at the title, and your answer is right there. Tonight, I was riding home on the subway, and there was a woman sitting opposite me, reading. Luckily, she was so engrossed in the book, that I was able to openly stare without having to fake a seizure. The book was entitled, "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People." Immediately, I became aware that I was in the presence of a terribly ineffective person. The longer I sat near her, the more I could feel her ineffective energy sucking the effectiveness right out of me. In order to explore what this is all about, I decided to research the book, which is written by Stephen R. Covey.

Here is what I found:

Basically, there's a bunch of crap about how you can't be effective if you depend on other people to do shit for you, so you have to cut that out, and start playing nice with others. Pretend to be a team player so you can actually get something accomplished for once.

I don't understand why a book had to be written for people to figure this out. That being said, let's break it down and look at each individual "habit." I will provide my assessment, along with a revised approach to the concept of effectiveness.

Below are Stephen R. Covey's "7 Habits of Highly Effective People"

* Habit 1: Be Proactive
* Habit 2: Begin with the End in Mind
* Habit 3: Put First Things First
* Habit 4: Think Win/Win
* Habit 5: Seek First to Understand, Then to Be Understood
* Habit 6: Synergize
* Habit 7: Sharpen the Saw

Apparently, the first three habits are supposed to assist you in moving from dependence to independence.

Habit 1 (Be Proactive) is obvious: get off the couch for once, and go accomplish something.

Habit 2 (Begin with the End in Mind) and Habit 3 (Put First Things First) are rubbish. How can you begin with the end while still putting first things first? Why does "first things first" follow beginning with the end? (Important side-note: if you fail to stay in the moment, you have a greater chance of getting caught).

Moving right along... (By the way, you are now a fully independent person).

Habit 4: We'll just drop this one. It doesn't make sense, so it's basically non-existent.
Habit 5: Irrelevant. Gone. Next--
Habit 6: I like this one. I would just change the way it's presented. In the context of all seven habits, it would look better like this:

* Habit 1: Be Proactive
* Habit 2: Begin with the End in Mind
* Habit 3: Put First Things First
* Habit 4: Think Win/Win
* Habit 5: Seek First to Understand, Then to Be Understood
* Habit 6: !!!$$$****SYNERGIZE!!!!!!!****$$$!!! YESSSS!!!
* Habit 7: Sharpen the Saw

Finally, we arrive at Habit 7 (Sharpen the Saw). This is good, but additional habits are needed to prevent incarceration and/or appearing on an episode of "Forensic Files." I have added:

* Habit 8: Wear Latex Gloves
* Habit 9: Burn the Weapon, Don't Bury It
* Habit 10: Hide the Body. Hide it Well.

Below is the revised list. I was going to change the title of the book, too, but I decided against it, not wanting to rearrange every little thing that Mr. Covey came up with. That's just disrespectful.

"The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People"

* Habit 1: Stop Acting Like an Invalid
* Habit 2: ----
* Habit 3: ----
* Habit 4: ----
* Habit 5: ----
* Habit 6: !!!$$$****SYNERGIZE!!!!!!!****$$$!!! YESSSS!!!
* Habit 7: Sharpen the Saw
* Habit 8: Wear Latex Gloves
* Habit 9: Burn the Weapon, Don't Bury It
* Habit 10: Hide the Body. Hide it Well.

Finally, forget about being a team-player. Do what needs to be done, and do it alone. The last thing you need is a team of witnesses.

Good luck.

The Reenactment

I went to see my doctor today. You know how some white people are just really white? Extra white, even? My doctor is one of those people. His resemblance to Dick Cheney happens to be striking. He could easily pass for Dick's younger brother.

I have never seen Doctor without his little American flag pin on the left lapel of his suit jacket. Do you remember years ago when it became fashionable for men to wear a pale pink dress shirt underneath a suit jacket? This style is still widely accepted, and it is one that my doctor decided to engage in today. The only problem was that he decided to pair his shirt with pink socks that were about 82 times brighter than the pink shade of his shirt. Overall he's a nice guy. It's not his fault that he has almost no personality... or that he's just so white.

Our sessions are usually cut-and-dried; solely focused on the task at hand, which is medication management. Very rarely do we deviate from this task in our conversations, except for the one time he mentioned that he has no understanding of abstract art, so I took it upon myself to begin teaching him. This proved to be as effective as the time my father tried to explain football to me-- he ended up just telling me to leave because he couldn't take it anymore. So, other than the abstract art lecture, our exchanges are very dry, and very practical.

Imagine my surprise today when the following exchange occurred:

Doctor: So, how have your moods been?
Me: They have been pretty even.
Doctor: What about your attention and concentration?
Me: Same. Not improved. Frustrating.
Doctor: What else?
Me: I still struggle with feelings of emptiness; always trying to fill a void.
Doctor: Well, what things can you use to feel more fulfilled?
Me: I can work on art, spend time with friends... I can write... I can continue being active in Jewish life... stuff like that.
Doctor: So, if you've identified those things, then why don't you do them?
Me: Because I like the quick fix. You know, like spending money-- it feels really good, really quickly-- but then I end up feeling awful and empty again.
Doctor: (Suddenly looking uncharacteristcally enthusiastic) Well, sometimes you just have to realize that a cracker is a cracker!!
Me: (Nodding my head with an interested look, so that it appears that I wholeheartedly agree with his statement even though I have no idea what the hell he's actually talking about).
Doctor: Did you ever see that Eddie Murphy skit?
Me: No.

At this point, Doctor launched into a full-blown reenactment of the following skit: You may watch it here. I'm pretty sure that he brought up this reference to illustrate that that sometimes people try to fill a void with things that they think are exciting quick-fixes, but they really are just regular things.

Doctor really went all-out for this one-- he even imitated Eddie Murphy's cracker-eating hand movements. The worst part, however, was when Doctor made it to his grand finale, which is when Eddie Murphy says: "Hey-- I just got them regular 'ol crackers." My ultra-white Doctor tried to say it as though he was black. The entire thing was just painful to watch.

I was interested in seeing this Eddie Murphy skit for myself, so I looked it up on YouTube. Doctor neglected to tell me that the title of the skit is "The Best Pussy," and that it's about a man's distorted view of sex after he had to wait for it for five months.

It's a shame that I've wasted so much money on insight-oriented therapy when I could have just taken a minute and-a-half of my wretched life to watch "The Best Pussy." I get it now. I get everything. I really do. Thanks, Doctor.

Mrs. Anderson said...

..."ask three, then me."

Mrs. Anderson was the computer teacher at my elementary school. She had this motto that just popped into my head: "Ask three, then me." Upon initial consideration, this seems like a plausible suggestion. The glitch? We were in first grade. Why the hell was I going to waste my time asking three other first graders about a computer issue? What was Mrs. Anderson trying to teach us? How can I approach her lesson in non-judgmental way that allows me to make it relevant to my adulthood? The answer: I can't. If, for example, there is a designated person at work who will know the answer to my question, then why would I spend time asking three people who may or may not know the answer? Also, if the first person I ask happens to provide the answer that I am searching for, do I still have to continue by asking two more people? Personally, I think Mrs. Anderson was lazy and/or she knew nothing about computers, and was attempting to deflect our quest for knowledge by any means possible.

In Love with My (Former) Car: My 1985 300 Diesel Mercedes.

In 2001, I was rear-ended while driving my 1988 Toyota Camry. The car was totaled and I received a settlement, which I would use to purchase a new car. My ever-practical and safety-minded father urged me to buy a sensible car. His suggestions were: Toyota, Honda, Hyundai, or Subaru. I listened to him carefully and then took it upon myself to buy a 1985 diesel engine Mercedes. I didn't care about being sensible. I needed a car that said "Robyn."

I was in love with this car. It had so much style. I adored the grill and the shape of the headlights. I loved how comfortable the navy blue leather seats were. The ride was smooth. The diesel engine was so loud that one time I was ordering food at a drive-thru, and the girl taking the order said, "Ma'am! Could you please turn your engine off? I cannot hear you over your engine." The car could never be stolen, at least not in the winter, because the cold weather makes it nearly impossible to start a diesel engine unless you have the magic, personal touch for your particular car. Even then, it would sometimes take between 10 to 20 tries to start the car. It took 12.5 seconds to go from 0 to 60mph. When merging onto a highway, I would have to make sure there were no oncoming cars for as far as my eyes could see, so that I would not end up being torched in a fiery auto wreck. I had to take it to a special mechanic for European cars. German car parts cost a fortune. Towards the end, it leaked oil all over the place, and my landlord got angry with me for ruining the street. It was the best car ever.

My father hated the car and called it "The Nazi-mobile." Yet, being the good Dad that he was, he once spent the day washing and waxing the car to make it look beautiful.

**Update-- three days after writing this entry**
I have just arrived at a problem. I began this post three days ago with the intention of having a point. Unfortunately, my brain does not hold on to ideas for more than three minutes past the moment of actively working on/pursuing the idea. Therefore, I have come back to edit this unfinished post and have found that I have absolutely no idea why I was writing about my old car.