Dear Key Food Supermarket

Why have you decided to be so high brow? Why aren't you carrying US Weekly anymore? I'm feeling really sick (I shared Pop Rocks with my also sick boss, thinking our colds wouldn't matter. Lick. Share. Lick. Share. We have a special relationship.), and that's all I wanted on this rainy Saturday.

You're the same supermarket that tried to kill me last week by selling me expired frozen yogurt and already-opened Matzo Ball Soup Mix. But, you're too good to let me learn more about Jessica Simpson's weight gain, and Adam Lambert's new make up line for men?

Shame on you.

Can't Spell Drug Bust Without B-U-S

This weekend I went to Philadelphia to spend some time with my brother and sister. We didn't do much, but it was still good to be in the same room with both siblings.
On Sunday afternoon, my return trip to New York was relatively uneventful, until we exited off the New Jersey Turnpike an exit sooner than we should have. The bus slowed down and someone wearing a backpack jumped off in a very seedy looking part of Jersey City (note: Does Jersey City have any non-seedy parts?). A lot of people on the bus were confused by this, gaping out the window as the gentleman jogged away.
I wasn't as shocked as my traveling companions because this same thing happened on another bus I took a year ago. At the time, I was on a bus traveling towards Philadelphia to see my brother. The driver exited the New Jersey Turnpike and was taking a more rural route - a short-cut, I thought. Until, the bus slowed down to about 5 m.p.h. and a guy jumped out of the bus and ran off towards a gas station.
I honestly don't mind being an accessory to whatever crime there is for passengers wearing backpacks and running into the jungle of Dirty Jersey. I pay $10 for a ride that keeps me on my toes, I get to hear loads of new curse words in Chinese and get a little adrenal pumping. Plus, I've always felt prepared for a hard-knock bus ride. After all, in eighth grade, I owned the Dangerous Minds soundtrack on cassette (which my mom took away from me) and I watch The Wire (not very courageously as evidenced last night by me gasping so loudly at a shooting that my sister, in the other room, burst through my door to make sure I wasn't dying in my sleep).
I just wonder how I can get a little more involved in this operation; I think I'd be the least suspicious-looking drug mule around: Cardigans? Check. Loafers with tassels? Check. Mopey indie rock on iPod? Check. Where do I sign up?

Everybody Wants to Be Cool

Green thumbs

You could say my parents are plant enthusiasts. This is what they got me for my birthday:

We've always had a beautiful garden full of flowers, and when there was the room, vegetables.

A few years ago, when my parents were starting to become real, actual people, not just boring old parents, we went out to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. The conversation switched to drugs, naturally. My dad said, "Well, there's a reason I don't order mushrooms on pizza."

That was funny, but I wanted more. What other drugs had they tried? How old were they when they first smoked pot? Did they smoke when we were asleep? I shared my experiences and learned a few doozies about them, but this was the best one of all:

When I was in high school, they thought my brother was a major stoner. So, doing what parents do, they started snooping through his bureau. They found what they thought were pot seeds. You'd think they'd react how you're supposed to, right?

No. My parents decided to put their green thumbs to use and try to harvest their own supply of marijuana in our backyard. Much to their chagrin, weeks later beautiful marigolds popped up instead. My brother had gotten the seeds from an insurance company's promotion and they had probably spilled out in his drawer.

As of two nights ago my dad won't confirm nor deny the story to my brother (who, in high school, was just shy - not a druggie). But, would you really trust anyone who got stoned halfway through his wedding and is featured wearing sunglasses in half the photos?

Stick it to me

Among my swaps at the NY Gift Fair, I mentioned I got an acupuncture treatment. I give this woman all of our New Age books and she'd give me acupuncture. My back has been really bothering me since then, and now I'm afraid this woman used some sort of voodoo on me.

It wasn't your typical acupuncture treatment with needles, she used an electronic acupuncture tool that shot electricity into my "trouble spots" to "open up my vessels". Essentially, I was being electrocuted. When she was applying the tool all over my upper back, I would spontaneously spasm and my arm would move and I'd get goose bumps, then I lost feeling in my hands. They've been a little tingly ever since.

While giving me the treatment, she said I had a lot of tension in my shoulders. I explained it was probably because the night before I had carried four laptops over five avenues from the Javits Center to my office. Now, since getting the treatment I keep getting a sharp pain in my right shoulder blade.

This isn't the first time I've experienced adverse effects post-acupuncture. Last summer, I tried it because my doctor - whose waiting room has a serenity waterfall - suggested it. She said it wouldn't hurt (it did) and it would alleviate my stress (it didn't). I was in her office because a few weeks prior I had fainted on a subway platform at Astor Place. I was taken to the hospital and they recorded an irregular heartbeat. Apparently, my irregular heartbeat is likely to be activated by stress, which at the time I had plenty of: the same weekend my boyfriend of five years was moving out of our apartment, my grandfather died.

When she put a few needles in my ears, I was immediately uncomfortable and lost sensation in my hands. Then, she put a needle in my calf and I instantly burst into tears. I wasn't in physical pain, but she hit something that all I could do was cry. Buried emotions? Hitting a nerve? I have no idea, but I immediately asked her to turn off the Pure Moods CD and let me go home with a prescription for Prozac.

If I have to find a silver lining in all of this, it's that now my back feels extra sensitive. So sensitive, I finally have found that stray hair that I know has been growing on my back that I couldn't feel until now. I have one over-active hair follicle and my ex-boyfriend used to groom me and it hadn't been found since we broke up. So, you can imagine my excitement of extracting a two-inch hair from my back while in the car today.

Play or Get Played

I can't stop watching The Wire.

Friends have been recommending this show for awhile, and now it's off the air. My library surprised me by having this show there, but it is Queens after all - so it's informational survival skills practically. They only had season one, but I'm already very invested.

I watched five hours worth the other night and I'm afraid my roommate might think I'm engaging in other nocturnal activities because I'm locked in my dark room exclaiming, "Oh my god!" and gasping very loudly. But, maybe it's better that way; it's certainly more respectable than, "Oh, I was just watching The Wire. Can you believe Omar kissed that other guy? Is that what they mean by "down low"? Oh! And then some guys RIPPED OUT THIS DUDE'S EYE later - wow, he really DOES have heart!!"

In elementary school I wasn't allowed to wear certain colors or Raiders gear to school because of gang violence, so I clearly understand what the characters are going through. You know, and the drug culture: I've smoked pot probably five times - the first time with an Eagle Scout. There was also this one time that I was working at a retirement home dining room and some hoodrats gave me what they said was a Metabolife, but I didn't remember an entire shift or a heartbeat for three hours. And then there was that time I got into a fight in Queens.

Today the show even interferred with work. I had set my alarm for 6:30 am which would give me plenty of time to snooze, shower and then move my car for street cleaning and make it to work by 8:30 am. I even slept with the curtain open to let the sun light in. I took all these precautions because I had come home from a very fun, but exhausting weekend in DC and an equally exhausting bus ride home (which involved driving by Baltimore!). Well. My alarm FINALLY woke me up at 8:24 am and I had three minutes to gather all my work stuff before getting a ticket on my car. Thank goodness I still lay my clothes out like my mom did for me in pre-school. I didn't even have time to brush my teeth (ew), drove around for about 20 minutes looking for a spot and got to work 45 minutes late. All day I was dressed ok, but I had an awful feeling in my mouth and my hair was nastily slap-dashed into a pony tail with an office rubber band. But, here I am, finally showered and writing this and back for more.

I'm just glad to have an HBO show, other than Sex and the City, that accurately portrays what life is truly like. I definitely recommend the show, who knew I would like it so much?