Unclaimed blueberries

I live in an apartment with two other girls, Thu and Erika. Erika is a friend who I have known since middle school, and Thu is her roommate that came with the apt.

For well over a week, I had been eyeing a box of [increasingly wrinkly but still good] blueberries that had been sitting in our fridge that seemingly no one was eating.

Normally I wouldn’t bring it up, but I had already been talking about the fridge in our group chat, because we are getting a replacement this week.*

Me: Hi is anyone available to transfer food when the refrigerator arrives tomorrow? If not I’ll ask them to do it on Thursday morning when I can be there
Erika: I can’t be there but none of the food is mine anyway heh heh
Me: Ok no problem! Btw whose blueberries are in the fridge they look good still but have been there a while (I always text in long, run-on sentences)
Thu: I work so I can’t be there tomorrow
Thu: Blueberries aren’t mine, wish they were though HAHA**
Me: Lmao wait so are they mine??? HAHAHAHA** omg oops

At this point I’m like wtf I kinda thought they were Erika’s, but cool – I guess they are mine. I mean that is soo seriously unlike me to buy fruit, especially berries, and forget about them, but I am happy to eat them so wahoo! And to be fair, I have been going out of town a lot so that can be sort of discombobulating. Also, I found an omelette on Sunday from a week ago that I had completely forgotten about, so it is possible.

So later I am washing the blueberries and I have plated them (bowled? ::shrug::) and I am getting ready to eat them, when in walk Erika and her boyfriend Noah. We (Erika and I – not Noah because is a boor) are laughing and joking about the blueberries … and then … Noah exclaims, Erika these are our blueberries! And she’s like what I thought we brought them back to your place and then he was like no I put them there!

Erika, irl: 😅***

Me, if I were texting myself: xD

In my head I’m like yeeees I knew it! In conclusion, everything is great. I am right and they even let me eat the wrinkly-ass still tasty blueberries. V^_^V


*for the past couple of weeks, our fridge has been emitting noises that evoke the feeling that it is liable to explode. Thankfully it hasn’t exploded, but my ice cream is in a strange and unappetizing physical limbo where it is no longer solid but not yet a liquid.
**too lazy to insert the emojis so I used HAHAs instead
***no idea how to textually represent this

Justin’s Almond Butter

It’s been a while but I’ve returned in order to talk about my favorite subject, food.

In case you’re wondering, you really can order a $1.95 jug of almond butter from the FB ad! Just make sure you cancel your Thrive Market account. Thrive Market: you claim you’re not shady but what legit company puts account cancellation under the “help” tab?

Product review: quite tasty! My first bite was after a big breakfast (lox bagel + freezer waffle but not together) so I thought it was only okay. But I’m eating it again now and I like it more with each spoonful. I imagine it would be delicious mixed together with banana/oats/raisins/honey/milk as a pb replacement. I still prefer peanut butter, but this is a nice change.

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And to Justin – sorry, but this message is dumb. If you’re going to be a narcissist (or maybe just uncreative) and name your company after yourself, own it! No one is interested in hearing your justi(n)fication.

Best Trip Ever?

Whenever I’m deciding whether I should go anywhere, I usually spend a long time thinking about it until it’s the last minute when the tickets are already super expensive, and then I’m like damn if I had just bought tickets two Tuesdays ago I would have saved SO much money. I don’t even really weigh pros and cons or anything, I just sort of think to myself hmmm do I really want to go? Do I? Do I really?? And then it just gets too complicated so I think about something else.

Eventually when I feel like the tickets are going to get so exorbitant that they’re going to reach an unaffordable level, I am forced to actually make a decision. Usually I end up going and then as soon as I buy the tickets, my excitement levels shoot from the 0.1-0.6 range to 10!!!!!!!!! This is when I start screaming and jumping around my apartment, “YESSS I’M GOING TO _____ !!!!!!! !!!!! AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” If I didn’t practically live alone I would probably be bursting into my roommate’s room and shaking her telling her to GUESS WHAT ~!!~!!!!!!!

The next phase is to get online and start telling anyone that will talk to me about my upcoming trip and all these stupid inane details. If it’s an appropriate time I will even call my parents, but I won’t stay on the phone too long because inevitably they start warning me on different ways I need to be careful, and this is a buzzkill.

When it’s finally time to sleep, I get into bed with anticipation of all the people that I will see the next day who will inevitably have to put up with my periodic declarations of excitement. After about 24 hours the initial wave of mania dies down and I become a more content, containable excited. That is until 24 hours before the departure time…which sustains me through having to put up with normal life and last minute preparations and let’s not forget the frenzied aghhhh I have 40 minutes before I have to be at the airport packing.

What’s weird to me is that the excitement bubbles up immediately following clicking “Payment Confirmed” and not a webpage before. It’s impossible for me to really get worked up about it until I’m definitely going. Is that normal??

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Delivered: Patio

Living in my current apartment, I’ve had no package drama. Over Thanksgiving break, I decided to upgrade from running pants to leggings after being notified of a Dick’s Sporting Goods online sale. My package arrived pretty quickly (within three days of ordering) but to my dismay, UPS tracking noted that the package had been left on my patio.

Patio?? The problem with this is that my apartment is on the second floor, so I don’t really have an accessible patio (to get really picky, I don’t even have a patio because although the formal definition may not specify that a patio has to be a ground floor attachment, I would say it’s thought of as such by the majority; in conclusion, I have a balcony/terrace) so I figured it was lost/stolen. For me this was an automatic conclusion because I have a history of having things stolen in Las Vegas.

The next day I took action. I contacted UPS, and they told me to get in touch with DSG who could either refund my order or send another package. They also told me to check with my neighbor first, which I did, marking the first time I have ever even seen this person. My DSG representative was sympathetic by an appropriate amount and said he would put in a new order for me. Satisfied that my leggings would arrive before it stopped being cold outside, I went on with my day.

Last week I ordered a a very nice coat from Nordstrom which was supposed to arrive this week. The first delivery attempt (also UPS) was Saturday but no one was there to receive the package. I figured since it’s Nordstrom there would be some signing required so I wasn’t worried. However, I checked the tracking this morning and was horrified to find that this package had also been left on my figmental patio. While I was trying to figure out what I had done to deserve this – again – despite having zero problems during the first nearly half year of residence, I decided to check on my balcony just to cover all my bases.

Lo and behold there was not only one but two packages which had been catapulted onto my balcony! Conflicting emotions arose as I first felt indignant about the huge box which had knocked over my [admittedly long dead] basil plant, and then relief at having found my “lost” goods. Still not sure how to feel. Everything fits great.

Mislabeled

Although going to Whole Foods means that grocery shopping consumes a larger portion of my paycheck than it reasonably should, I can’t stop doing it! It’s very relaxing for me to just walk around, and occasionally I even try out a new bizarre product. Sometimes this ends badly. I had no idea what Kombucha tea was but decided I wanted to find out. Unfortunately, it was disgusting. I probably managed to gross out everyone else in my office as well by sitting it on my desk and letting it fizz for two hours, occasionally forcing myself to drink some before (and sometimes not until right after – oops) it burbled out the top. I wanted to give it a fair chance you know; I thought maybe it would taste better after settling down (a poor presupposition).

Anyway, on a recent trip I had to purchase a bag of Whole Foods branded organic baby carrots in order to finish my hummus. The idea of baby carrots is that you can conveniently eat them straight from the bag without having to prepare them in any way and this is the reason we pay at least 7 times more than for real live carrots. They are extremely popular and I would assume there is some kind of standardized carrot chopping machine that spits them out in the correct approximate size. Apparently, the Whole Foods carrot supplier has their own machine (perhaps it treats the carrots more humanely?) and did not get the memo about the whole easy-to-eat thing.

Later, I am at home eating my carrots with the hummus. I do notice they’re a little chunkier than normal baby carrots, but I’m initially okay with it. 10 carrots in, and my jaws are killing me. I look into my carrot bag to see this monstrosity staring up at me (pictured with smaller carrot for comparison):
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What IS this!? How could anyone possibly call this a baby carrot? In human terms, this is equivalent to flunking daycare for 7 years straight, and this carrot bag contained nothing besides blatant underachievers. In case you can’t accurately gauge how big it is, even the carrot underneath is twice my preferred baby carrot size (that way you can get a good hummus to carrot ratio in one bite).

I love Whole Foods, but its baby carrot daddy has some work to do.

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Jumpin’ Jumpin’

I’ve always known that my sprinting ability is just about nonexistent. My times during a swim race were ever only a slight improvement over my normal practice times, and that was probably because I got to dive in vs pushing off a wall. Hence the reason I did long distance.

However, lately I’ve been forcing myself to run intervals (jogging interspersed with sprinting – pseudosprinting in my case) in order to improve my 5k time to 22 minutes by January with the alternative being a loss of $100. In case you are wondering, I’m not very close but I think it’s possible! Anyway, this lead to training with my cousins over Thanksgiving who agree that I am the worst sprinter ever.

I guess this conditioned them to notice all of my athletic shortcomings because later as I was jumping from the den to higher ground in the kitchen, they realized that I jump like a complete idiot. Specific complaints:
– I just don’t jump very high
– I pull my feet up when I jump
– My instinct of looking up when I jump (gotta see where you’re going!) is nonsense
– I subconsciously try to make it look “cute”

To give you an idea of how bad it is, my cousin who is 3 inches shorter than me can jump at least 5 inches higher.

I spent the rest of the weekend wondering how I got so bad at jumping and trying to figure out how to jump like a normal person. I also engaged in numerous sprint wars – this is when you face someone and pound your feet while pumping your arms to see who can do it faster. It does result in sore upper arms the next day if you are weak like us.

The sad thing is, I would think that most people who know me probably are not at all surprised that I have such awful fast twitch muscle skills.

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This Could Happen to You

My favorite pair of work pants is from Ann Taylor. They are sleek, black, and slim-fit. As with nearly everything from Ann Taylor, the tag advises you to “DRYCLEAN.” Of course I don’t as my philosophy on that is to only take things to the dry cleaner that I’m afraid to wash.

I had been wearing them for almost a year and half just normal machine washing and they have been just fine. However, since they were my favorite pair of pants, one day I decided to treat them and have them dry cleaned.

For the duration of my stay in Las Vegas, I have only gone to one dry cleaning place because I absolutely adore the lady who runs it. She is a middle-aged sweetheart looking Korean lady, and she looks like she is filled with nothing but goodness. When I brought a dress in to get it shortened stat (it was made for someone taller!), there was no judgment in her eyes. All she asked was if I were going to go to a party soon.

So anyway, when I went to pick up my pants she was very agitated and admitted there was some confusion about which pair of pants were mine. She brought over a pair and I identified them as not mine because the waistband was yellowish, but she then told me the other pair wasn’t Ann Taylor so I pointed out the discoloration. Since she assured me that sometimes colors will bleed during dry cleaning, I accepted it and went home, promising to bring them back if I decided they weren’t mine.

When I finally got around to trying them on, the waist part was way too big on me! I could have been 3 months pregnant and still fit. I kind of like it when your clothes shrink in the wash and you put them on again for the first time. It’s like they are hugging you with just a lil more love. This was different…so I took them back to my lovely dry cleaner asking if it were possible that they weren’t mine, but she said the other person hadn’t lodged a complaint and besides – the other pants were definitely worse quality than mine. What she said was that that kind of stretchy material can sometimes loosen up during dry cleaning and if I brought them in they could steam them for me.

 

tl;dr
1. If you have an article of clothing that has been machine washed and is holding up just fine, no need to reward it by taking it to the dry cleaner.

2. It is possible for pants to stretch during dry cleaning.

3. I love my dry cleaner!

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Where do they go?

Have you ever succeeded in killing a bug only to find that it has completely disappeared? Today I demolished one of the few insects that has ever found its way into any of my Las Vegas residences. Although I wish I could say I just snatched him out of the air with my chopsticks, actually I opted to employ my favorite method which I like to call (starting now) mirror murder.*

First, you wait until the bug lands on your mirror, and then you raise your hand until it’s over the bug. Next, slowly lower your arm until you are reasonably close enough that you can thwack it quickly enough before it flies away and then muster all your speed and strength and GO FOR IT! Not sure if this could be an issue, but if you’re really strong maybe don’t use all your strength. Mirrors are sometimes breakable, and it’s bad luck.

I would say with fruit fly-sized critters I’ve had about a 90% kill rate. The reason I suggest a mirror as the scene of action is because they are easier to clean than walls. Also, is it just me or do bugs seem to really like mirrors? They are just as obsessed with their appearances as we are!

Anyway – so this happened today, thought I saw the little guy dropping onto my bathroom sink counter. I even imagined a minute mirror smudge. However, when I inspected the area, it was nowhere to be found! (This was pretty easy to confirm because I was in the middle of tidying up) I started doubting my achievement but not too much because if it were still alive, wouldn’t I have seen it flying off into the non-surface areas of the bathroom?

Upon further (but not very close) inspection, I didn’t find the smudge on the mirror, and there were no remains on my palm either (one of my greatest fears during this task). Thinking back, I felt a vague sense of déjà vu. How many times have I killed a bug which then proceeded to vanish into thin air!? Where are all the deceased insects going???

I am still so baffled.

 

*This should not be attempted with flies. Flies are very dirty insects and should only be attacked with flyswatters, newspapers, and shoes. Also – I agree, not the greatest name; I am open to suggestions.

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Cheap sushi in Japan – not a total myth

Last night I went to a sushi place where my friend and I had dinner for only 735 yen! (<$10) Okay so we only had 7 pairs of sushi but it was totally adequate. Plus, there were unlimited free cups of matcha – not sure how you can put a price on that. Karaoke is a lot cheaper over here as well, and sometimes the background video actually matches what you are singing about; in some cases, it`s actually the band playing the song! Crazy IIIII know.

One of my favorite things in Japan has been the “peliculas” – what they’re actually saying is “Print Club” pronounced Japanese style yeaa. They are just extremely souped up photobooths and you can add all kinds of captioning and little stickers! ^^ I’ll post photos when I get back!