Dateology

The TJ report

It's official. Trader Joe's sells the worst sushi ever. Pressed mashed-rice, blended cooked fish in sugar and spice, stacked in a black plastic coffin with a colorful labeled ribbon around it. Yuck.

On my trip to Trader Joe's I got some emergency--read: earthquake--supplies because "you know it's just a matter of time before the big one hits." I got a case of SmartWater, two packs of mixed nuts, and six (SIX) bars of chocolate. There's the double size Villars Swiss Milk Chocolate with whole Hazelnuts,  Ritter Sport milk chocolate with whole Hazelnuts, Guaranda Unique Origin 71% bitter dark chocolate, Valrhona Le Noir 56% Cacao, Valrhona Le Noir Extra Amer 85% Cocoa, and Scharffen Berger 72% Cacao bitter sweet chocolate. I'm ready. Hit me now.

I love the wine shelves at TJ's. Rows and rows of wine from around the world. Chile, Australia, Spain, Italy, French, New Zealand. But unless it's for a gift, I rarely buy wine for my own use because, you see, it's mostly just me for dinner at home and there's no way in hell that I would drink a whole bottle--of red wine most likely--in the three days it stays fresh. And forget all those air-tight corks or sprayable gas or refrigerating the wine you red-wine-chilling people! Seriously- the person who opens a half-bottle shop in San Francisco is going to hit it big. BIG, I tell you.

Yours truly,

Datingirl

You know those times when you put something in your mouth--like a butter cookie, or...a broccoli floret--and then your nose tickles and a sneeze all of a sudden comes out?  Let's assume your grandma instilled some good manners in you and you covered your mouth in time...what do you do with all those food bits that spread all over your palm?
Wipe'em?
Lick'em?
Look for someone to shake hands with?

As you can tell, I ponder extremely important topics these days.

Yours truly,

Datingirl

You know those small fitting-room cubes? The ones that are smaller than airplane bathrooms? The other day I was trying on some clothes. With no chair to hold on to, I leaned my rear against the cube's wall as I squeezed into a pair of low-cut, dark wash premium denim. And then, butt pressing against the cold wall, it all of a sudden hit me: exactly how many butts was I rubbing at that very moment?

Can you see me now?

Who in the world thinks of buying a clear plastic backpack through which every single key, used tissue paper, coin, gum wrap, bobby pin...and not to mention the usual wallet, brush, makeup kit (also in clear plastic)? I mean, who?!?