Monthly Archives: July 2010

My Sucky Junk Food

Don’t you hate it when, after much denial, you allow yourself a sinfully fattening foodstuff, only to have it taste like crap? And you feel like you have to finish it because it’s your one indulgence for the week and you paid actual money to get it?

There is a cupcake store near my house I walk past nearly every day that boasts cupcakes made with no preservatives or artificial ingredients. I like to patronize businesses that make efforts in this direction, so I finally decided today I would try them out. I was so excited! I brought my daughter in and made like they were going to be for her instead of me and my husband.

(Relax, she’s one, she didn’t know. She still thinks eating what’s on mom and dad’s plates, even if it’s salad, is a treat.)

I got four. They were small, but looked pretty. Two strawberry and two double chocolate. How could I go wrong?

Yes, HOW COULD I GO WRONG?

Folks, they were really, really bad. I can eat pretty much anything sweet, especially when I’m at work and I need something to keep me going into the latter hours of my shift, but I had to stop after trying two bites of each.

The first problem? The strawberry icing tasted like NOTHING. Not sugar, not butter, not vanilla – nothing. My co-worker tasted some and gagged just a little. It had no flavour whatsoever, which made me think it was just pink-tinted lard. As soon as I had that mental image, I had to abandon it and move on to the other one.

The chocolate cupcake fared little better. Really? Chocolate? I happen to know, you can still make tasty, natural desserts if you just USE SUGAR, you know?

I mean, I didn’t go in there to buy diet cupcakes. I went in to support a business that believes making food without artificial and unnecessary preservatives is probably better for all of us. And now I’m crushed that, yet again, my husband will laugh at my earnest nutritional folly.

Dammit, I was really looking forward to those things.

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Slow Walkers

I’m a person who likes to walk fast. I almost never move leisurely, especially when I’m on my own. When I was in elementary school, I used to run home and one day this guy asked me why I did that. The reason I ran had never really occurred to me, so after taking a moment to consider it I said, “So that I get the good seat in front of the TV.” As a kid, I was always battling  with my siblings for prime seating in the family room. These days, I don’t have to jockey for position on the good recliner but I still advance at a clipped pace everywhere I go. I don’t think I’m always rushed, it’s just that if I’m already walking, I may as well get a decent workout from it. Or maybe it’s the result of my pet peeve over wasted time. Oooohhh, I HATE wasted time. 

So when I’m walking with or behind people who go at a turtle’s pace it drives me a bit bananas. The situation is most aggravating on sidewalks where you can’t easily pass. When I have to slow down I feel like THE WORLD IS PASSING ME BY. Not everyone has to walk as fast as me, but when someone is really dragging their heels I just can’t take it. I get uptight and anxious and I wonder why they don’t just GET A MOVE ON. How on earth do they go through life moving so slow?

This annoyance I experience is similar to my one-year-old daughter’s when, all of a sudden, after eating the last Cheerio, she realizes there are unexpectedly none left. A moderate panic begins and doesn’t abate until more Cheerios are poured onto her tray and she can resume snacking. Trapped behind a slow walker, I am similarly unable to exercise patience for what is surely a benign situation that will imminently resolve itself. Instead, I become immediately antsy and I won’t be calm again until I can resume my normal speed.

My question is, are these people just better at smelling the roses or does their complete lack of urgency spell laziness? I’m sure I could benefit from being a calmer person all-around, but if I became a slow walker I don’t know that I could stand myself.

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Irritating People

People are always going to bug you. Why, there’s someone sitting beside me right now who’s chipping away at the last of my well-worn patience… Ha! Just kidding, you-whose-name-I-won’t-mention-here-lest-we-know-people-in-common!

But seriously, I am pretty annoying myself. I know this because my husband tells me so. I do annoying things (like putting my stray hairs on the side of the shower after shampooing so it doesn’t go down the drain but not gathering them up afterwards) and I have annoying personality traits (like expressing my opinions more emphatically than is comfortable for a low-key guy like him). I’m sure other people think I’m annoying, too, but no one else has ever told me. I don’t say this to put myself down, rather because I know every person is annoying to somebody. It’s what makes life interesting.

No one had ever told me they didn’t like me, nor had I ever heard of anyone not liking me, until I was in my late twenties. This is not to say that no one disliked me before then, I had just never heard of it. The person who first made me aware of their distaste was a co-worker of mine who could barely muster a grimace in my general direction when we saw each other in passing at work. I have my theories as to why this person didn’t care for me, but I honestly don’t know for sure. We never had any meaningful interaction whatsoever.

I can either be hurt, or just slightly put off if people don’t like me, depending on the level of respect I have for them. There are those whose opinions carry so little weight that I can only be amused by the fact. It’s not that I don’t care if I’ve put someone off – I don’t want to put anyone off. And I certainly don’t want to hurt anyone or be rude. But if I’ve thought about it honestly and I’ve come up scratching my head, then I can’t be bothered to waste any more energy on it. I just don’t care.

I find I care less and less the older I get. I used to be very concerned that everyone think me as delightful as I think myself.

It’s not about not caring what people think about you. Everyone cares, and I most certainly do. But some people just don’t make the cut.

The person beside me does make the cut, by the way.

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