I blame the suckfest (that was today) on the time change.

Or perhaps my petulant four year-old inner child is to blame. I haven’t decided.

Waking up this morning sucked, getting into the car and having the gas light go to empty sucked, getting to the gas station and finding out that pump I pulled up to was broken sucked, being called “sweetie” by the gas station attendant also sucked, going to Dunkin’ Donuts to get a hot chocolate and whole wheat bagel with cream cheese was good - until I pulled up to the window to pay and learned that they were out of hot chocolate (I got chai instead) and out of vegetable cream cheese. I asked for scallion - to which they said yes… and then no. So I got no bagel with no cream cheese and just went to the train station to wait out the remaining time.

Once on the train, I was just overwhelmed by (non-bagel related) sadness of a nondescript and nonspecific nature and was sitting there like a fool, crying. Not bawling… but the tears were flowing in freakish silence and being dabbed away by a Dunkin’ Donuts napkin. Not the softest stuff, so I was quite rosy-rimmed in the eye region. I got to work, turned on my computer, and it froze up. I restarted it and then it refused to accept my password. I think one of the keys was stuck, so I just did some random hitting of shift and caps lock (case sensitive passwords) to jostle it loose and managed to login. Trying to print an agenda resulted in a printer error - not a jam, but an unspecified driver or software error that prompted a pop-up box stating, “printer error” with the only option being to cancel. I hit “cancel” and restarted my computer again. Meeting, meeting, lunch. Nothing looked appetizing, and I couldn’t even find something to provide pure sustenance sans enjoyment… so I went for the cheap option. A slice of pizza. Meeting, spreadsheet, cancelled meeting… and time to go home. On the train ride home, I was wedged between two over-cologned middle-aged men, which just made that 50 minute voyage endlessly pleasant.

For dinner, I explored the as-yet-unexplored (in my world) potential of Brussels sprouts. I have a vague recollection of wanting my mother to buy them for me when I was 9 and wanting to use them as huge heads of lettuce for my Barbie dolls. Instead, they were cooked and I distinctly remember a noxious sulfurous stench which has turned me off of them ever since. Well, according to the package, the sulfur stench can be avoided through proper preparation methods.

To that end, I cooked them for about 10 minutes in a little milk (low-fat), butter (not low-fat - but compensating for the fact I did not have heavy cream for this recipe suggestion), garlic and basil. Then I removed them from the heat and squeezed a little lemon juice on them, sprinkled chopped pecans on top, and added a little salt and pepper. Toss to combine and hey - they aren’t half bad and they smell pretty good, if a little garlicky (I’m not a huge fan of garlic, but it serves a purpose.)

You know what also serves a purpose? “Jump Around” by House of Pain. The purpose it serves: inviting me to make a fool of myself by rapping along to it. Yessir. Of all the things I could possibly remember from my high school days (useful things like calculus, history, chemistry, and perhaps even driver’s ed), this is what’s stuck with me.

House of Pain - Jump Around

And “One Pure Thought” by Hot Chip. The purpose it serves: making me want to dance (and my friend Sara can attest to this… I think we’ve done the whole “dancing in the car” thing to this song a handful of times now). Nothing else does that right now. It’s magical and mood-lifting.

Hot Chip - One Pure Thought

Until tomorrow, then. Arbitrary reassignment of time. Ugh.

I’ve been noticing a few blogs/sites lately that have been posting images of old-time advertisements that are pretty damn creepy. The focus of the creepiness seems to be overt misogyny (hmph - like that’s ever been a problem), but a baby with a razor is rather disturbing as well. At least it’s an illustration and not a photo.

Mental_floss just linked to a selection of ten of the creepiest including these (click for full-size - really, do):

And the gossip blog Jezebel has a collection of what they call “oldies but goodies” with these horrifying examples:

There’s some overlap on this Daily Mail (UK) page entitled, “The outrageously politically incorrect adverts from the time equality forgot” but a few additionally crazy ones (which were collected in a postcard book called “You Mean A Woman Can Open It?: The Woman’s Place In The Classic Age Of Advertising” - seems to be out of print as it’s selling for $35 via sellers on Amazon):

So I’ve got some rollover vacation days to use up this month, and today was one of them. As a result of a largely sleepless weekend (petsitting, a noisy downstairs neighbor whom I’ve dubbed “Keith” because of his physical similarity to that member of The Prodigy - pictured left, police involvement, and a 3 a.m. confrontation with Keith that was resolved peacefully) I caught up on my sleep today - by way of sleeping until 11:11.

Thus, the likelihood of getting my car in for an oil change was slim. I called a few places anyway. It seems that I spoke to the same guy no matter where I called; a sleepy young man who (I imagine) looked away from the magazine he was flipping through just long enough to say, “yeah, no one’s even gonna be able to touch it for at least another two hours.”

Harrumph.

Plan B: shopping. There was a need for some work clothing (pants), some socks, shampoo, circular knitting needles, bumble and bumble tonic spray, and the pharmacy. I brought along a totebag to avoid getting 5 or 10 more plastic shopping bags that I absolutely don’t need. This proved far more difficult than I thought possible.

I didn’t bring the totebag into stores with me because that would be suspicious and I’d just be asking for trouble; it’s one thing in a foodstore, but quite another in a clothing or craft store. That wasn’t the problem.

My first stop was for shampoo and b&b spray. “I don’t need a bag, thanks.” Not a problem. The cashier gave me the receipt and sent me on my way. Done and done, in the totebag.

Stop #2: craft store for circular knitting needles. The distracted teenage cashier put them in a bag despite my saying I didn’t need one, but that was more because she was talking to her co-worker. When I reiterated my desire to remain bagless, she took the needles out of the bag and handed them to me with the receipt. Lovely.

Stop #3: pharmacy for the pill. This is well into the realm of TMI, but it’s for a purpose, so bear with me. Some birth control pills come in a lovely little clamshell case; I actually bought a reusable one with a “fun fashion design.” So when I go to the pharmacy and they give me the faded Pepto-Bismol pink clamshell case in addition to the pill refill, I tell them that I don’t need it and specifically ask them not to give it to me. It’s a wasted chunk of non-recyclable plastic. I told the pharmacist today the same thing; she looked at me as if I’d said, “I would like to give you $500 for that tube of lip balm.” Seriously - it made me feel like I might be a little crazy and perhaps not actually speaking the words I thought I was.

She stammered and said, “But it goes with it.”
I said, “Yes, I know - but they don’t come together and I already have one. I really don’t need it.”
Pharmacist: But they go together.
Me: I really don’t need it, though. Just the pills are fine. I already have a case.

She shrugged and told me how much money I’d have to hemorrhage for this particular prescription and while I was getting my card from my wallet, she placed the little “here are the ways this drug could possibly kill you” paper and meds into the paper privacy bag. I also told her I didn’t need a plastic bag, and that elicited an “OK.”

As I walked to the car, I noticed that the bag felt a little heavy for a small ring of tiny birth control pills. Lo and behold, she’d thrown in the stupid plastic clamshell case anyway - apparently while I was distracted getting out my method of payment. That was some mighty great customer service there. Truly.

Stop #4: clothing store #1. I found pants and a shirt. Again, went to the cash register and told the clerk that I did not need a shopping bag. She asked me if I was sure, and I said yes - that I was parked right outside and had enough bags already. “Oh,” said she, and I said, “I don’t think anyone will have a problem as long as I have my receipt on my way out, right?” (Clearly, but it’s the sort of silly obvious comment you sometimes have to make to clarify your point without sounding possibly bitchy.) No problem and I walked out with clothing, paper and no bag.

Stop #5: clothing store #2. Two pairs of pants. I said, “I don’t need a bag.”
[cashier double-take]: You don’t need a bag?”
Me: No thanks. I have so many already, it’s just a waste.
Cashier: Are you sure, hon? You really don’t want a bag?
Me: I’m good. I’ll be fine with just the receipt.
Cashier: The bag will be easier to carry.
Me: It’s fine. I’m parked right outside.
Cashier: OK. If you’re sure.
Me: Yes I am, thanks! (getting a little testy here)

Stop #6: Whole Foods for a box of ginger snaps, salad from the salad bar and a box of chamomile & lavender tea. The cashier asked what kind of bag I wanted. I said, “none.” She nodded in assent, took my money and told me to have a nice day.

That’s totally the way to do it, but I wouldn’t really expect much less from yuppie-hippie central. Trader Joe’s is also really great about this (similar demographic, too, surprise-surprise).

It just goes to show how far we have to go before being less wasteful or somewhat environmentally conscious is understood and not viewed as crazy person behavior. I was telling my like-minded friends about this whole voyage and one suggested, “You should’ve just said ‘I don’t need a bag - I’m a hippie’. That would probably work.” Maybe. But it’s annoying to have to waste breath on any sort of explanation, justification, clarification, etc. for something this simple.

It crosses over into customer service territory. Having been on the other side of the register back in my bookstore days, I know you’re riding on auto-pilot some of the time and shoving things into a bag is simply part of the assembly line process. But the customer service part isn’t hard if you keep a single neuron firing; if someone was only buying a magazine, I’d ask, “Do you even want a bag?” More often than not, they’d pause and say, “Nah, I don’t need one just for this.” Yes, sometimes they’d say, “You’d better give me one - I’ll be going into other stores.” Fair enough - but let the customer make that call.

I’d best get to sleep. There might be pills involved. Waking up at 11 doesn’t bode well for falling asleep at a decent hour tonight without chemical intervention.

This is day three of waking up early (sans alarm) despite having gone to bed at a relatively late hour. What’s most annoying is the inability to fall back asleep.

What did I do yesterday when I couldn’t get back to sleep? I broke. I joined Facebook, despite my earlier rant against social networking. Why? Well, since I work as a marketer, it’s good to have actual familiarity with the newfangled whozamawuzzits out there that all the crazy kids are using. And a couple of good friends sort of talked me into it—without knowing they did —separately from one another. Anyway, I figure I can put as much or as little effort into it as I see fit, and there’s always the deletion option.

Now I’m going to edit the post I started last night but got too sleepy to finish.

While I was waiting in the train station today, I found myself standing next to a woman carrying one of those now ubiquitous woven polypropylene totebags - the kind you can purchase at your local high-end or natural food market for a couple of dollars and are meant to re-use instead of wasting plastic bags.

Her particular bag advertised the fact that it was purchased to support an environmental preservation and rescue organization, and the side panels of the bag contained a long missive with a large headline proclaiming, “THERE IS ONLY ONE EARTH” in large green letters.

Let me state at the outset that I have nothing against these bags, however ubiquitous and omnipresent. It’s a good thing. I carry a totebag and have canvas and polypropylene totes I’ve amassed at various book trade shows that I use for shopping and carrying stuff. However.

However, there’s a point where a well-intentioned marketing tool like a reusable totebag becomes an ironic and obvious example of the failure of the message - usually because the tool became a trend which everyone bought into and the medium (which was the message) lost the message and meaning (paging McLuhan? Strictly speaking, I know it’s not The Media, but it’s certainly A Medium). This woman was one such example.

Her reusable totebag was stuffed almost to overflowing with regular old plastic shopping bags containing shoes, food and magazines (the visible items) and who knows what other items in the very plastic bags her big bag was meant to replace. Now, I can understand wanting to keep your shoes and food separated in some way. However, there’s no reason the magazines had to be parceled up into their own bag. You might be saying, “But maybe she carries those other plastic bags to reuse them!”

I gave her this benefit of the doubt, too, until I saw what was hanging off her other arm. A plastic bag from the snack shop in the train station (white) with a plastic bag from the newsstand (yellow) within it. And the snack shop bag contained several plastic bags of chips and a bottle of soda. This last bit, I admit, is a matter of strong personal bias. Because she opened her 99¢ jumbo-size value bag of “Funyuns” and started chomping messily - which just grossed me out.

So I have to wonder: did she realize how mixed her own messages were? Probably not. Is she aware of the reason those bags became popular and why people everywhere are carrying them? Has she read the side panel of her bag for an explanation of the environmental impact of plastic bags? I’m guessing, “No” and “No.”

But she’s certainly not the only one, which is part of the problem. The good idea has gotten lost in the relatively short span of time it’s taken this trend to speed over from Hollywood to suburbia.

This woman was just the one who happened to cross my path today and trigger my wrath with Funyuns.