Carts, Carts, Crappy Carts

Friday night was a crazy night in the Carlson Casa. After putting Zachary to bed, I thought I would go to the grocery store since Troy was engrossed in the Blackhawks game. (It's playoff season which means there is always a lot of yelling, clapping and pacing in front of the television during these games; and I am not talking about me or Zachary.) It is a rare occurrence that I get to use both hands and grocery shopping without the boys has come to be somewhat of a treat. Plus, I had actually made an effort with my appearance that day and thought I should probably show off my straightened hair and eyeliner to perfect strangers who don't care. 

I grabbed my wallet and hopped into my G6 which I hardly ever drive any more because I bought the coup when I was still dating Troy. The idea of purchasing a sedan so that I could one day put a car seat in the back was so far removed in my mind, though now I wish I would have opted for the four door. But, I liked how sporty the 2-door looked and knew it would be my last "cool" car before I entered responsible adulthood. Well, responsible adulthood came knocking last May 30th and now my cool car sits in the driveway, unloved because it is a pain in the you-know-what to get the car seat and the wee babe in the back. But I digress . . . I decided to take my cool car and head over to our 24 hour Kroger at 9 pm, the time that most young adults are just getting ready to go out and go dancing or hang out with their friends. Meanwhile, I am struggling to stay awake on my 2 mile drive to get the family's weekly groceries.

Once I got to Kroger, I sat in my car with my eyes closed for a minute, reveling in the quiet and wondering if I should have just taken my straightened hair to bed instead of the grocery store. Then I realized that I would very easily fall asleep right there in the car so I had better get my buns perpendicular. Besides, maybe the motorized carts would be available for a tired mom's use. (I will shamefully admit, I honestly thought about using the motorized carts, but you will be pleased to know that I got around the store on with my own leg power.)

6 Month CostCo Cutie

I walk over to the cart bay and grab the cart closest to me. As I started to wheel it into the store, I was shocked that I picked a good cart! I don't know what it is, but I am notorious for picking the worst cart in the bunch. There are times when I go through 4 carts - no joke -  only to pick the 5th cart that is still crappy but will at least get the job done. When I shop with Z, I tend to discard more than if I am not with him because so many of those dang safety belts are knotted, tangled, caught in the metal bars, missing, or gross. So when I grabbed this cart, I was half tempted to go buy a lottery ticket because I thought it was my lucky day! . . . . . Then I turned the cart and the whole thing almost tipped. Typical. Good thing I didn't buy a lottery ticket. I finished my shopping with the crappy cart, mostly because I was too tired to get another one, but I woke up the next morning with Popeye-like biceps due to my mad-style maneuvering cart skills.

Why is it so tough to get a quality cart? Why does every cart have a wheel that jumps, or twine spun around on the wheels, or garbage in the cart, or a missing plastic handle bar, or rattles so loud people in the parking lot can hear your cart, or a wheel that refuses to spin, etc., etc., etc.? Does anyone ever check the carts? Do they go in for a routine inspection? Why the inhumanity?! I just want to haul my groceries around the store in a quiet and smooth fashion!

Honestly, if I were in charge of marketing for these grocery chains, I wouldn't focus on low prices. I would advertise how awesome my carts were and what an enjoyable experience you will have steering them all over my store. If I saw an ad like that, I would shop at that store. Done and done.

Alas, there are bigger fish to fry in this crazy thing we call life. So, I will leave you with this one tip to help make your crappy cart situation more manageable. When you go to grab a cart and is links up with another and you can't free one cart, pick up the handle so the back two wheels lift up and then let go of the handle to drop to the ground. When you go to pull the cart, only one will pull away. I wish I could take credit for that, but the lady at the Starbucks inside the Kroger told me that after she saw me struggle with a cart and then consequently give up to get a latte.

If you have never had a problem with a crappy cart then you can just disregard what you have read here and you should probably go buy a lottery ticket and then split your winnings with me since it was my idea.

Things that Annoy Me

Can I be honest with you here? I mean, we're all friends, right? This past month has been kinda rough on me. Because of this, I feel like I am in a crab mode, which is unusual because I am usually a cheerful lass who can pull herself up by the britches and put on a smile. Anyway, due to my lack of normal glee, I decided to write a blog about things that are annoying. Plus, this can be a fun game. One time, my sister and my friend, Geoff, came up to Minnesota to visit me while I was in college. On our way home to Chicago, we played the "I Hate" game. It is really simple. One person lists something that they hate . . . well, that is really the only direction. The funny thing is that the other two people would generally chime in with agreement. This game is actually very entertaining, though negative. It did however, keep us occupied until we got to the Illinois state line.

1. "Come on, give me a smile!" I really hate this. I'll be walking down the hall at my school - perfectly content with life - and someone will say, "Smile, Pam! It's not that bad!" I think to myself, I wasn't even in a crabby mood until you said that, but now I want to punch you in the baby maker. Just because I am not grinning a toothy grin 24/7, doesn't mean something is wrong. My relaxed face is apparently very menacing. Thank you for drawing attention to it.

2. Pro Athletes that are Ivy League Grads. This is so irritating to me. These meat heads get a scholarship to hump a pigskin ball and they don't even take any courses that would valuable for life. It is just a means to get to the NFL. Meanwhile, people like me study their butts off and drool over financial aid packages that we never see. Bears quarterback, Jay Culter went to Vanderbilt. You can't tell me he would get into that school on academics alone. Ugh . . . and he is dating Kristin Cavillari. But that is another blog for another time. **Side Note: While we are on the subject of Jay Culter, I also hate how he wears the helmet on his head like in this picture. Either keep it on, or carry it. You look like a darn fool.**

3. Futuristic "I told you so". When I was engaged and at my showers, I would always hear something along the lines of, "Oh, just wait until you are married, then you'll . . . . gain weight, not care about how you look, stop making home-cooked meals, etc." Now that I'm married, I hear, "Oh, just wait until you get pregnant, then you . . . . won't be able to tie your shoes, have to pee all the time, be sick for six months, etc.) You get the idea. I feel like I am being lectured for not living as long as these others who feel the need to rub future (and not always true) problems in my young face. Can I just have these life experiences when I am at that life stage, please?

4. Shaving, then Freezing. I shaved my legs today. After I finished showering, I turned off the water, opened the curtain and my legs immediately got goosebumps. Well, shaving was now a big, fat, waste of time. Awesome.

5. Interrupters. This is more of a pet peeve that turns into an extreme annoyance. It's like what I am saying is not important. My students do this all the time. I generally look and them and say, "I'm sorry, I think I was talking." Sassy? Yes. Effective? Sort of, but this offense will most definitely happen again. I am always surprised when adults have this bad habit. So frustrating. Maybe I should just start talking to them like I do to my students. Look out, I might bust out the sassiness on your interrupting souls!

6. Middle Seats and Men. Normally sitting in the middle of two men would be awesome. UNLESS you are on a plane. Then it stinks. This is because men like to sit spread-eagle and very rarely are you sitting next to someone who is good looking. The only time I am lucky enough to sit next to a hottie is when I fly with Troy. At least then I can ask him to try and close his knees a little so I can reach my backpack.

7. Cell Phones and the Gym. Do I even need to elaborate? If you are at the gym, leave your cell in your locker or in your car. Nobody wants to hear your conversation while you lazily move your legs on the elliptical, unsuccessfully pretending to work out.

8. Defective Carts. With out fail, every time I go to Target to do my weekly grocery shopping, I always seem to choose the cart that has an invisible boulder on one or more of the wheels. I know it's invisible because when I check the wheels, I can't find anything. Then I slowly push the cart forward as though the perpetrator might sneak out. I never find him. Then I give up and just go with it . . . but I hating it all the time. I think sometimes the wheels openly mock me.

9. When people pronounce the 's' in Illinois. It's silent, people.

10. Time left on the Microwave. This is more of an issue due to the fact that I am anal, but I am so annoyed when people use the microwave and they take their food out before the timer beeps and then they leave that time up there. They don't clear it out for the next person. I think it's so irritating. Similar to when you are at the gym and the meat heads don't take their monstrous weights off the bar. Clear it out for the next person!

Well, there you go. A few things that annoy me. Maybe some of my comments will resonate with you and together we can fight these annoyances. I will sign petitions, make posters, and talk to my congressman if it helps. But in all honestly, I'll probably be too lazy to do that. It's easier just to whine in a blog.