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.


If I never post again after this, you can all assume that I did something stupid

Tara is coming to visit this weekend. We’re planning on seeing Thor 2 and Catching Fire, then marathoning our TV shows and playing Mario Kart. This does, however, mean that I am going to have to be responsible for the well-being of someone other than myself. Looking despairingly at my food supply, which consisted of roughly half a jar of peanut butter and a box of macaroni, I decided to go to the grocery store and stock up.

It was at that point that this happened:


That’s just what I get for being responsible.

As it turns out, it wasn’t quite the close call I thought it was. By “stuck at Meijer,” I meant I was stuck in line behind two people who seemed to have amassed half the store in their cart while the two people behind me were loudly and frantically wondering if they had time to get home and take cover. But by the time I had paid, sprinted out to my car, and raced home, the tornado still hadn’t hit.

And it still hasn’t. Maybe it won’t. I hope it doesn’t, because I’ve never been solely responsible for my own safety in a tornado before. I prefer having people in charge tell me where to hide.