Tag Archives: Trader Joe’s

Romantic Exhaustion

On Valentine’s Day, I ate a frozen pizza and went to bed at 8:40pm.

There was just too much romance during the day for me to handle.   Picture Leo and Kate, bodies pressed together, flying at the bow of the Titanic… for twelve hours straight.  That’s how romantically exhausting my day was.

First of all, the girl at the Starbucks drive thru was really nice and gave me a warmed cinnamon roll in a box with a fork and napkin. (In exchange for money).

Then I got in an elevator with a young Fed-Ex guy, who seemed intent on staring at his First Class envelope.  Until suddenly he peered up at me from under that brown visor, and said, voice drenched in innuendo, “So how’s your Valentine’s Day going?”  I immediately burst into laughter, then walked out.

The second time I got in the elevator, two older men invited me to come with them to Jimmy’s.  I don’t know a Jimmy.

The third time I got in that same elevator, I had a repeat of the Fed-Ex incident. Only without the visor.

Apparently the elevator = the love box.

Later on, in First Aid certification class, I got to put a middle aged man into a sling.  I wrapped bandages around his wrist.  He looked at me skeptically from under bushy eyebrows.

I then went to Trader Joe’s… need I say more?  Walking into that store is like walking into something by Jane Austen.

I spent the rest of the evening texting people “Happy Valentine’s Day” ironically while drinking ginger tea.  Not sure whether they got the irony.

Also I hate ginger.


Intruder Joe’s

You should probably know that as I write this, I bear a striking resemblance to a cancer patient.  (Of course, I mean this in the most politically correct sense possible; please don’t take offense at my trivial, self-deprecating, woefully truthful observations.)  I have a scarf wrapped around my head, concealing all hair and both eyebrows.  And by “eyebrows”, I really mean the general vicinity above the eyes where eyebrow hairs are meant to grow, as I’ve nearly picked them all out.  Nervous habit… I won’t go into it, but suffice it to say that that is the reason the scarf is on in the first place.  To, theoretically, prevent more eyebrow picking.  Adding to my (both perceived and literal) hairlessness, I am sitting outside covered in a blanket and smoking a broken cigarette… which, to compensate, I must hold firmly between my forefinger and thumb.  Like a doobie.

Am I right or am I right?!

But this is all beside the point, I just wanted to paint you a picture.  Provide some context.  Let you IN.  And at the same time, hopefully, make you feel a little better about whatever it is you are doing at this precise moment.  Because I’m sure it’s much less pathetic.  Anyway, we’re moving on.

There was a lunatic at Trader Joe’s today.  

No, this wasn’t the lunatic in question. She’s just the craziest looking person nearest the top of a Google image search for “Grocery Shoppers.” … I try.

Okay, maybe “lunatic” is a little alarming.  He was simply… uninhibited.  Jolly.  Loud.  Drunk?  Determined.  On a mission.  Probably hungry.  Among other things, certainly. Continue reading Intruder Joe’s

Adult Food

Today, I made Trader Joe’s Os for dinner.  In other words, I made the organic and much trendier version of SpaghettiOs for dinner. See Exhibits A, B and C.


Nevermind, there’s no A, B or C. Just look at the pictures.

I realize that one picture would have sufficed, but since I got my phone camera fixed today, (a long overdue errand, which I put off for months and months after my phone’s second toilet dive) and I just learned how to use a cool new camera app called Hipstamatic, I took three. And posted all of them. For your pleasure. Because, like everyone  who has an iPhone with a working camera and an Instagram account, I am shockingly artsy.  I bet you don’t even know which color the bowl really is.

Anyways, you are probably wondering: “But Michelle, what are those green things floating in your kid-friendly pasta-soup?”

AHA! That, my friend, is basil.  On a whim, I picked some leaves off my basil plant (which I also got at Trader Joe’s, by the way, and am extremely proud [very surprised] to be able to say that it is still living.  The number of times I have neglected it until its yellow leaves shrank and drooped and dried out… and then, feeling a sudden burst of pity for the poor thing, revived it [nearly drowned it] with an onslaught of water… well, let’s just say that the little plant is a trooper)…  I picked some leaves off, tore them up and sprinkled them into my Os.  That’s right.

Basil is very classy. Don’t even try to deny it. By adding basil to my Os, I successfully transformed a previously childish dish into a gourmet Italian feast. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were on the menu at local trattorias in Florence.

Though I’m sure they get their Os from Trader Giuseppe’s.