My Ideal Grocery Store & Obnoxious People

After nearly three years of living in this city, I’ve finally found my ideal grocery store. It’s close, it’s cheap, and the cashiers want you to leave just about as much as you want you to leave. I swear the woman who bagged my groceries practically chucked them at me. Didn’t ask me if I found everything okay. I think I might love her. Is it too soon?

Yesterday I was studying in one of the many study areas on campus. It’s not like the library where people will burn you in effigy for breathing too loudly, but it’s also not too noisy. It’s just casual. Even by those standards, there was this one guy who was talking OBNOXIOUSLY loudly. He wasn’t even there using one of the computers, he was just standing there next to his increasingly uncomfortable friend who was using a computer. And the guy was just going off about his girlfriend. I was trying to read over in the corner, but it was difficult, because phrases like “that fucking bitch” and “goddamn whore” kept puncturing the bubble of casual quiet. People were glancing sideways at him. People were making incredulous eye contact with each other. One guy lightly banged his head against his desk.

And finally, finally, after he started off on another “and you’ll never guess what THIS bitch did…” anecdote, a girl a few computers away, like, slammed her fist down on her desk and called over to him, “ALEX! CALM DOWN! EVERYONE HERE HATES YOU!” And the guy sitting next to me started applauding, and another guy joined in. And Alex finally quieted the hell down. It was amazing. It was like a scene out of a movie.


I didn’t go to the big game because I’m a loser, but I made up for it by going to a musical by myself.

Last weekend I went to see a production of Les Mis at this theatre downtown. It was really excellent. I haven’t seen a live production of Les Mis since middle school, and I had been in the way back and could barely discern between characters. (I kept mixing up Valjean and Javert, but in my defense, they both looked exactly the same and I’m still not convinced it wasn’t the same person somehow playing two characters simultaneously. Or twins.)

Anyway, I was sitting up towards the front near a bunch of old people whose grandchildren or nieces or nephews were in the musical. The old people, however, had not actually seen Les Mis before, so I caught tidbits like this: “My niece is playing Fantine. I think she gets pregnant and dies.”

I reiterated this to my friend during intermission, and she said, “Well, she’s not entirely wrong.”

So I pickpocketed my grandfather

Yesterday was my cousin Jase’s high school graduation! His graduating class is a lot bigger than mine was, so we were only about 1/3 of the way through (and we hadn’t even seen Jase walk yet) when my dad and I started to get antsy. I was sandwiched between him and my grandfather, who was paying rapt attention.

“I’ll give you 200 bucks if you pickpocket Grandpa,” my dad whispered to me.


“20 bucks if you steal his phone.”

“You said 200,” I said.

“No, I didn’t,” he said, widening his eyes innocently. “I said 20. You misheard.”

“Fine,” I said. The phone was in his left breast pocket, and I was sitting on his right, so I put my arm around him like I was side-hugging him because I’m an awful person and my soul is black, and I stole his phone and swiftly threw it at my father, who then refused to pay because I hadn’t done it with enough secrecy. I argued that that wasn’t part of the original deal, and he compromised by saying he would drive home even though I was supposed to, and I said that wasn’t worth 200 bucks, and he said, “But it’s worth 20,” and then somebody shushed us.

Jase finally walked, putting an end to our childish behavior. I’M SO PROUD OF HIM. After the ceremony he gave me a hug and said, “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for graduating,” I said. “I pickpocketed Grandpa.”

He thought about that and nodded. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

These are my Friday nights

I feel like my life is just a long series of battles. Battles with spiders. Battles with strangers at Buffalo Wild Wings over trivia.

That wasn’t the plan, though. We went and saw The Hangover III, purely out of curiosity, and even by my very low expectations I wasn’t very impressed with it. Then Allison wanted to get food. Tara and I weren’t hungry, so that narrowed Allison’s options down to fast food, because it’s not so weird being the only person eating at a fast food place. While I was driving us to McDonalds, however, Allison had a change of heart, and I was forced to hang a right at the last minute and go barreling into Buffalo Wild Wings, whereupon Allison ordered some chicken wings and fries and we embarked on a glorious trivia adventure.

We were there for about two hours. About halfway through we realized we were playing against these people at a table across the bar. I was the only one facing them, so they kept making eye contact with me and giving us the thumbs up or otherwise making some other facial expression. We got competitive. We started cheering whenever we got one right. I high-fived Allison’s face. They beat us twice and then finally we won, so we decided to quit while we were (sort of) ahead. On our way out they all said, “Good game, girls,” and one of them shouted, “TWO OUT OF THREE!”

We almost said, “Same time next week?” but chickened out.

I care about your lonely soul

Happy Valentine’s Day! I have a platonic friend date tonight, which is the best kind, I think, so let’s get this show rolling. Tara and I have spent the day posting Valentine’s memes on each other’s walls. My personal favorite was this one:


Tara: We’re clogging up everybody’s newsfeeds.
Elodie: Yeah.
Elodie: I thought about not doing that, but then I decided against it.
Tara: Exactly.

In the middle of my Biology of Sex lecture, some guy ran in and proposed to his girlfriend. It was so UTTERLY FANTASTIC that when she said yes, everyone burst into applause. Far from being mad, our professor (who is approximately 70 years old) said, “Well, I guess we know what THEY’LL be doing tonight.” We were coming off some rather shocking information about hermaphroditic reproduction in sea slugs, so this was very much needed.

I’ve got to run though, because this box of chocolates isn’t going to eat itself. Happy Valentine’s Day, to everyone who has a significant other and to everyone who bought themselves chocolate (ahem) and are planning on sharing WITH NOBODY.


I’m odd and inappropriate, but you already knew that

Today my dad said offhandedly, “I think I’m going to bring your old iPhone to see if we can have it fixed. And if we can, I’m going to start using it.” Then he headed off to take a shower. As soon as the door was closed, I SPRANG INTO ACTION because there were a few, um, incriminating items that needed to be deleted immediately.

These are those incriminating items.

First off, photos. I… well, first there are the obvious. A set of bear saltshakers I found at a store.


Then a game of Catchphrase that went horribly, horribly awry. I wasn’t able to articulate any clues.


Finally… I don’t want him to know how bad I am at bowling.


Second, the notes. When I’m hanging out with my friends, playing video games and throwing Oreos into the wee hours of the morning, certain topics come up that Slap Happy Me feels the need to record for future reference. I remember my brother once was scrolling through my phone, and suddenly he made a shocked, disgusted, and slightly fearful expression and said, “What the hell is that?” That, my dear brother, is the brainchild of our collective late-night/early-morning brains. For instance:


That’s the only one you’re getting, because the rest cast kind of a “what the fuck” pall over my adolescence.

There are also voice recordings that WordPress won’t let me show you. Perhaps that is best. I recorded my friend Claire playing video games; it’s one minute and thirty seconds of her yelling obscenities and shrieking with fear.

I hope my father never finds this blog. If he does, well, hi Dad. Sorry about this, but you brought it on yourself. When you decided to have me.

That was one hell of a weekend.

My friend Tara came down to visit this weekend, which, far from signifying parties and booze, actually signifies video games, scary movies, and free grapes. The grocery store was giving away free grapes, and we literally just stood at the stand for ten minutes eating them. We took turns. We’re nothing if not polite.

The weekend could theoretically be divided into two parts: before watching Battle Royale, and after. Before watching Battle Royale, we were both typical(ish) young people with hopes and dreams and more dessert than we could handle. (We capitalized on a “ten desserts for ten dollars” deal at the aforementioned grocery store.) We played Super Smash Bros. We made lists of books we would buy with the hypothetical money we would have in the hypothetical future. We talked. We laughed. But after watching Battle Royale? We were broken, soulless fragments of the people we’d once been. That movie ripped my soul out through my eye sockets. I have never seen so much gore in one movie interspersed with so many twisted love triangles!

I can only imagine what the people in the room next door thought of us. I could hear them watching the Notre Dame football game, so it follows logically that they could hear us. We went from playing video games (“I HATE YOU AND I WILL PEE ON ALL THE THINGS YOU LOVE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”) to watching Battle Royale (which mostly consisted of frequent laughter, then gunfire, and then one or both of us shouting, “NOPE, THAT’S IT. I’M DONE. I’M DONE WITH THIS MOVIE, THAT WAS THE FINAL STRAW. DID HIS FREAKING HEAD JUST EXPLODE?”). And then, when all humanity seemed to drain from the world and hope was a far-off dream, we watched Joseph Gordon-Levitt strip on SNL, and suddenly everything felt right again. (It was at this point that all hell broke loose; next door, we had lost the game and everybody was shouting indignantly. In our room, JGL was being Magic Mike and we were both shrieking inhuman shrieks and saying things like, “I CAN’T HANDLE THIS, SOMEBODY SEND HELP!”)

All in all, a success, I’d say.