I’ve got Saturday down to a boring routine.
It’s my consistent day off during the week, so I’ve set it up to where that’s the day I restock the groceries, do random laundry and cook for the upcoming week.
And yeah, sadly, it’s as exciting as it sounds. It’s a complete routine.
At the grocery store, I even pretty much buy the same stuff, which makes it easy on days like today when I forget the list. It’s not so much a list of what I need as how much of what I have left.
After all, the daily food intake is basically a hash browned tater and a scrambled egg for breakfast, the rice/onion/carrot/garlic concoction for lunch and a PB sandwich for dinner on work days.
On off days, I try to eat out but sometimes that falls flat and I just eat macaroni elbows with alfredo. I can’t find fancier pasta and the noodles fit into an old Coke bottle for food storage purposes. I’m seriously still in PC volunteer mode over here.
I do splurge calorically on shopping days and get chips and fake M&Ms. Sometimes a donut, too.
And I check if the juice is on sale. Tropical fruits are awesome, and I love the mango juice. But since I have to lug it all in one bag, I have to keep those purchases down, especially considering I mostly buy liquids. I get about three liters of chocolate milk (it’s gross – you don’t even refrigerate it until it’s opened, like you do ketchup) and six cans of Pepsi. Well, five cans of Pepsi and one Coke – again, sometimes you *need* a Coke.
The entire shopping routine is completely automatic. I knew that, but I guess I didn’t realize how rote it really was until today.
I got the new Toby Keith CD, “Clancy’s Tavern,” last week and have been listening to it here and there. (Also got a couple others, so I’m spreading it out.) So when I left today, I put it on and walked out to the first release, “Made in America,” which is the first cut on the CD.
I came, I saw, I shopped. As I walked back and got to the main street, I realized I was still only up to the last regular cut “Chill-axin,” and hadn’t even made it to the Incognito Bandito extras. By the time I got home and up the elevator to my apartment door, I was only on “Truck Drivin’ Man.” Still had two more songs to go.
Didn’t get to them, though. Opted to start on the dinner, and as a result developed a new cut – smack into my thumb as I was chopping an onion. Or maybe it was the garlic.
A fine time to realize that I do not have a single Band-Aid in my possession. I grabbed a cloth and smothered it but it bled and bled. As any successful cook, though, I worked around it and finished the latest batch of my rice concoction with no added ingredients. Success.
The boo-boo isn’t too bad now that it’s clotted. It’s much better than the four-inch welt on the back of my leg, acquired when I debuted the rain boots this week. Silly me tried to go -- crap, what’s another word for “incognito”? Can’t use the same odd word twice in a 1,000 word rambling but my brain is fried --- unnoticed (yeah, unnoticed!) in what are obviously men’s boots, so I pulled my pants over them instead of tucking them in. Since I only have short socks, they rubbed. By the time I got home it was pretty painful, and now it’s just nasty.
People are a bit pickier about men’s and women’s clothes here. This week I went to a shirt store intending to buy a batik shirt. I got the ER bill paid off so now I want to celebrate. But I’m MUCH taller than Asian women (and many of the men, to tell the truth) so the shirts aren’t really made for me. Plus, I am choosey about the shirt I want. Nothing TOO bizarre since I intend to have it for awhile and at some point, in “awhile” I will be back in Uh-merika.
So I want either something based in green or a garnet-and-gold-ish one. And I found one of the latter that wasn’t too bad, but it was a men’s, and a men’s large at that. I tried to ask if they had it smaller and the lady was like, “But that’s a man’s shirt. Who is it for?” Upon hearing it was for me, she was completely appalled and essentially sent me away. I’ll try later. I'll make up a man if I have to.
Too bad this new guy in the fitness room didn’t get the men’s/women’s memo. I’ve seen this dude a few times now and, like me, he wears the same thing every time. Unlike me, though, he doesn’t wear a Lands’ End tank top, US Air Force shorts and sandals. (It’s the only outfit I own that is entirely made in the U.S.)
This guy. Oh, man. I’m amazed he goes out in public like this.
Unless he really is Spider-man. He might be. The first time I saw him, that’s who I thought of. I’m unconvinced he’s NOT Spider-man. Or maybe his cousin, the super hero speed skater.
This guy is a little fella and appeared for the first time last week. I’m still working nights, so I’m in the little fitness center around 7:45 in the morning. He wanders in maybe 8:30.
It is not possible to miss him.
Unlike myself, he obviously spared no expense on his getup, but I think he put about as much thought into it as I did. My big regret is that I do not have a picture, but I’ll try:
The long-sleeve tight-fitting shirt isn’t bad. It’s solid black and by far the most muted part of the outfit. He could have bought one that fit, but it’s not too bad. That shiny material; not sure what it is, mine’s just US cotton.
But from the waist down, I cannot even look for fear I burst into laughter. I sneak glances here and there to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
He wears two pairs of pants – the speed skater tights and a pair of shorts over them. The tights (if they’re marketed as pants, they’re lying) are primarily black, but have this not-a-lighting bolt-but-something-close design down the legs, which was the first thing that reminded me of Spider-man, though I’m not sure why. It’s horribly tacky and cannot possibly be intended for a man.
The shorts. Oh, man, the shorts. They are NOT tight little workout pants (which is kind of a shame) but are primarily black with multi colored POLKA DOTS.
Yes, you read that right. It’s insanity. And, for whatever reason, in the world where he bought these things, they are men’s shorts. I know this because they have that little logo that you see on the back of semi-truck mud flaps – silhouettes of women sitting back to back. No woman would buy that.
Guys, here’s a note: no woman on earth is going to be impressed if you wear black polka-dot pants, especially when you pull them on over black tights with bizarre lines down the sides.
And then, fellas, if you top (or bottom, as the case may be – the top, was a Daddy-eque ‘do rag on his head fashioned out of a towel) that entire outfit out with LIME GREEN workout shoes, well, it’s just best if I don’t even make eye contact.
I cannot look at this guy without laughing. I almost feel like I’m doing a disservice by not telling him out ridiculous he looks.
Lime green shoes, folks. He’s the one that bought that pair.
I’m pretty sure they help him scale the walls, though.
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