Saturday in the suburbs

Some random thoughts from and inspired by my day in the suburbs (I probably spend 95% of my Saturdays in the suburbs, but this one felt particularly, acutely surburban):

-- First, it was mostly a solo day, because at 3:45 a.m. the Smelmooo and I woke up and drove to the airport for his 5:30 a.m. flight. I was delighted to discover a billboard for Doggy Steps on the Turnpike on my way home.

-- I think I'd like to write a short story or something -- maybe a sociological study, I don't know -- about the 10-items-or-fewer checkout line and what a person's purchases there reveal. Today, I was in that line, purchasing a can of water chestnuts for the kick-ass stirfry I made myself tonight -- the Smelmooo HATES water chestnuts, and most of the veggies I like in my stirfry, so I completely forgot to get them during my main grocery store trip this morning. During that trip, I was the most bipolar I remember being in a long time at the grocery store: tons and tons of veggies and good-for-me stuff, but also tons of crap, I think because I'm trying to compensate for the lack of chocolate and ice cream. At the mall today -- more on that later -- I nearly bought a Cinnabon on three separate occasions. In addition to the water chestnuts, I had a last-minute moment of weakness and got a pack of Starbursts at the check-out.

Anyway, I was behind a guy with three items: (1) a VHS copy of Friday the 13th; (2) a VHS copy of Murders in the Rue Morgue and (3) a giant vat of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. Behind me was a woman with six different pre-prepared meals (fried chicken, pasta salad, that kind of thing) and two protein shake mixes. I once saw a saleswoman I recognized from Ann Taylor Loft at Wegmans and all she had in her little basket was eight Lean Cuisines and a case of Diet Coke.

Anyway, I find this fascinating, and I think I'd like to spend some time just observing the purchases in the express check-out lines and making up stories about the customers.

-- While I ate my kick-ass stirfry, I drank a third of a bottle of wine and may as a result be just a teensy bit loopy. I think it doesn't count as drinking alone because Tucker's with me, even though he's not drinking.

-- This morning, I watched the movie "Just Friends," which was as "eh" as you might expect. Most surprising element: Amy Smart didn't get naked. Most obvious un-made joke: Someone describing a new singer to Ryan Reynolds calls her something to the effect of "the most pissed-off female singer in a decade," but does not make an explicit reference to Alanis. I can't decide whether the intimation was funny because it was subtle or if it was so subtle it wasn't even intentionally funny.

-- "Just Friends" was another movie that rags on Jersey: Ryan Reynolds grows up in NJ, can't wait to escape it and tells all his West Coast buddies how unappealing the thought of spending Christmas in Jersey is. And I'm normally very protective of my home state, but today I sort of agreed with the assessment that it's a congested hell-hole of obnoxiousness. I went to the mall, which was mistake number one, because that's where Bad New Jersey is most likely to manifest itself. Inconsiderate drivers in the parking lot; oblivious meanderers in the corridors; people who are downright rude to their family members and total strangers. There was a one-day sale at Macy's, which compounded the nastiness even further. The woman behind me in line, although perfectly pleasant in general, was getting a huge kick out of tormenting her daughter, for whom she'd just bought a prom dress. The daughter had brought her boyfriend along, and I thought it was brave of the guy and cool of the mom to endure that, but the daughter was such a bratty little drama queen, and she and the mom were just feeding off each other. The dress was really cute, actually: a mix of pinky-red and reddish-pink colors with a little ribbon around the waist. But the mom and daughter got into a huge fight over the color of the ribbon (I'd call it red, but refused to when the mom held it in front of me and asked me to take her side) and the appropriate accessories for the dress. Then the mom said she was going to borrow the dress for a wedding this fall, and the daughter nearly put out my eardrums with her twelve-syllable, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!" Although I guess this is not just a Jersey thing -- have you seen My Super Sweet 16? That's what it reminded me of.

-- Apparently, one of the AAA baseball teams in the area is looking to recruit local talent to sing the national anthem at games. And they were holding auditions, I guess, in the middle of the mall (this, I think, is just Jersey). By the time I left, they were on contestant #79, and they didn't appear to be finished. Seventy-nine renditions of The Star-Spangled Banner by 12:30 in the afternoon. I really felt bad for the employees of the shoe store right across from the makeshift stage. And I felt like a bad American when, halfway across the mall, I heard one of the contestants hit a particularly bad note, and I cringed, and the two women walking toward me had similarly pained expressions on their faces, and then all three of us burst out laughing.

-- Because the Smelmooo is away, Tucker refused even to walk to the end of the driveway with me. I like that he's happiest when our whole little family is together, but sheesh. He's so stubborn, and such a pansy. So I walked to town on my own, which was lovely, but it made me miss my guys.

-- Unrelated to today, specifically, but I'm so sucking in the NCAA pool. SUCKING. I can't believe Syracuse got knocked out so quickly. Bastards.

-- I spent a good deal of time today flipping through crappy movies on cable, and watching snippets or even huge chunks. I saw parts of "The Shape of Things" that I've never seen before, and I still hate it and think that Paul Rudd's acting isn't so sharp in it, and then I saw the end of "Little Black Book" and it seemed to echo the end of "The Shape of Things," oddly enough. I also caught the last 10 or so minutes of "Dave," which I remember liking, but I didn't remember very much about it, and I was startled by the very ending, not having seen the whole thing in probably 10 years. Was the real President's marriage just a farce? Is that the deal?

-- I finally made a workout playlist for Ichapod (our iPod, which I thought the Smelmooo would've taken for his trip), because I hate when I'm rocking out (as I do) on the elliptical or treadmill and then having it hit some slow crappy song mid-workout. But I realized that I'm not quite sure how to transfer it from the computer to the actual hardware, and I'm totally That Girl, that technologically ignorant girl who depends on her husband to do all of that complicated computer stuff.

I'm fiddling cautiously now -- I'd rather not have it transfer than have all of our music wiped out of iTunes or something -- but that's sort of the bottom line: I'm fairly well screwed without the Smelmooo. I do okay, but I'm much better with him, and I already can't wait for him to be back home.