Skip to main content

I Am Not Now, Nor Have I Ever Been, Interested in Exchanging Pleasantries

I found myself at the grocery the other day—I know, shocking. I had no grand scheme in mind, I was out of fabric softener, and the all natural brand that I use—which you can only get at a particular type of store—was all I had on my mind. I walked in, with a moderate amount of duty in my stride, and went straight to the cleaning aisle. Fabric softener in hand, I did a quick tour of the facilities, looking at the sales items, snagging a bite of cheese from the sample trays, and ogling the organic halloween candy on display.

I began a debate with myself as if I should actually buy the bag of individually wrapped organic dark chocolate peanut butter cups. They looked fantastic. My heart said yes, my brain said no. “They're organic! Dark Chocolate! That's good for you!” my heart said. My brain gently reminded me “Uh, yeah, didn't you just fill a bowl full of mini peppermint patties and place them on your desk?” The week in question was a stress filled one, and I came to the conclusion that I deserved some peanut butter cups.

Cups and softener at my side, I went to the check out lanes. Upon reaching the check out section of the store, I noticed a familiar face behind one of the registers. A young lady that I used to spent a great deal of time with about eight years or so ago. Every lane, except her lane, was a little crowded. I like to think that I'm a jolly old soul who does make a modicum amount of effort to keep things civil with the various women that I've encountered over these years, so I made my way towards her lane.

I was midway in my approach when she glanced over and saw me. I was smiling, a smile that I thought indicated “I'm happy to see you, and hope to learn that you are doing well.” Yet as I got closer, and in what seemed to be the flash of a second, she produced a sign that said “Closed. Please use next available lane.” She was in the middle of checking out someone, and I was so surprised by it that I slightly stumbled as I stopped my body from moving towards her lane. She was icily staring ahead at the person she was checking out, and not once did she look again towards my direction.

My joyful mood quickly changed to one of slight bemusement. The rapid fire move on her part to keep from having to interact with me was something I had never encountered before. Sure, there are those on this planet that will go to all costs to avoid seeing me, or even being made aware of my presence, but the sudden reaction movement cause me to pause for a moment and ponder it. That short pause quickly gave way to my desire to be on my merry way, and I went to the lane that was open besides her.

 That particular check out person was more than happy to smile and engage in quick chatter while I bought my cups and softener. The funny thing is, you see, while I was at the “here's your receipt” portion of the transaction, she who denied my cups and softener, quickly motioned on someone to check out in her lane. Receipt in hand, I left the store, drove home, did the laundry, and ate a peanut butter cup.


Popular posts from this blog

Convincing Yourself You're Good.

I have Imposter Syndrome. Imposter Syndrome is that feeling that what you do isn't good enough, and that someone is gonna eventually figure out how woefully unqualified you are and kick you to the curb. One of the traits of my personality that I dislike is that I am way too hard on myself. Seriously, give my mind an inch and I will somehow figure out that I am the sole person responsible for the world's troubles.

Having Imposter Syndrome is kind of like playing the game Werewolf. My friends and I play a version of the game called One Night Ultimate Werewolf, in the game each player picks a card that gives them a specific role, either a villager or a werewolf, and the villagers all have distinct roles that they play on top of that--special abilities and the like. The object of the game is two fold, if you're a werewolf, you don't wanna be caught. If you're a village, you wanna catch the werewolves. Imposter Syndrome makes you feel like you're always in the role…

Where The Blues Are

I come to you again this week with another pair of blu-rays from those master celluloid handlers at Warner Archive. First up we have 1960’s “Where The Boys Are,” a defining teen picture of the era by MGM, and the film largely responsible for kicking off the whole cycle of 1960s beach films. The other is 1955’s “Pete Kelly’s Blues” a film starring, produced, and directed by Jack Webb--TV’s Joe Friday. Part of a deal Webb had made with Warner Brothers when he was setting up the original big screen version of “Dragnet” in the ‘50s. 
“Where The Boys Are” was set for the screen before the book it was based on had been released. Producer Joe Pasternak snatched up the rights to the book by Glendon Swarthout, which was originally titled “Unholy Spring.” Pasternak, strongly feeling “Where The Boys Are” would be the better title, persuaded Swarthout to change the book’s title. Pasternak also felt he could use the film as a starring vehicle for one of the stars of MGM’s record label, Connie Franc…


Picture it! Scilly, 1922! OK, actually Andy Ross’s Childhood Bedroom 1993. I had been given as a gift the dream attachment for my beloved Sega Genesis, the amazing Sega CD. For those of you young children who have only grown up in the era of XBox and Playstation, it may seem strange that there was once a time when the idea of playing a video game off of a compact disc was mind blowing. But it was, and I was fully ready to have my mind blown. To use a slogan of Sega’s ads of the era, I was ready to enter “The Next Level.”

The Sega CD model I had was the second one, the smaller model designed to go with the slimmer Genesis that had been introduced to the market. I had the first Genesis, the larger one, but the Sega CD came with an extension block that allowed it to partner it on the original model. You attached the Sega CD to your Genesis by a special connector on the side of system. The Sega CD came with a game to get you going, as was the norm with gaming systems at the time. The game …