Saturday, September 26, 2015

Out of Place

I went to Costco this week...I needed vitamins.

When I go to Costco, I feel out of place. I feel as though I don’t belong and that everyone else is in on a secret but won’t tell me. I feel like there are procedures I'm unaware of, a dress code nobody told me about, or some sort of … apparently indescribable something I was never informed about. There’s this looming feeling that everyone’s looking at me, men, women, children … everyone. It doesn't matter. They’re all in on it.

I'm most comfortable in grocery stores, probably from how often I’ve had to go into them (Adam would agree with this). Followed by Chapter's and then every other retail store of every possible kind.

But Costco...that a different matter.

For those of you who don’t know, Costco is one of those bulk stores that sell everything in quantities of a million. You want Kleenex? Here’s 15 large boxes all wrapped up together. Toilet paper? Here are enough rolls that you will actually bring the last half of these with you when you move to your next home four years from now.

At any rate, I went to Costco to get one thing. Vitamin's and as it turns out...granola bars cause they looked really good but it'll likely take me two years to work my way though the box.

I bought just those two things. When I was standing in line I felt like people were staring at me like I was a pariah. The people with 12 boxes of frozen pizza, a jug of chocolate sauce, pump-action shampoo bigger than my arm, and 8 cans of whipped cream...they’re staring at me like I'm the freak.

I felt so out of place! What about you shop at Costco?

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

An Open Letter

Dear Whiteboards,

Do you remember when you were younger and one day at school you had a chalkboard in your classroom and then what felt like just a few days later (because trying to understand time when you are a kid is bananas) the school was filled with shiny new whiteboards? You know what I mean? Although I guess those of you born in the current century probably have no idea what I’m talking about. That’s depressing… does that mean there’s a whole generation of children who don’t even know what a chalkboard looks like? Or feels like? Or sounds like? I might even go so far as to describe that as horrifying except nothing is as horrifying as the chill that runs down your back when a piece of chalk catches and breaks on the board and you can feel the screeching noise all the way to your toes. There are children who may never know that particular brand of torture.

Okay, yes I’m exaggerating. Everyone knows about chalkboards but nowadays a chalkboard seems like a relic of the past or an item some hipster picked up at a flea market “downtown” and showed to his friend who works at Anthropologie and next thing you know chalkboards are all the rage (that’s how trends work, right?) but no one is actually using them, just turning them into tables or making signs outside vegan restaurants with clever daily affirmations.

That’s cool. Chalkboards can chill outside of cool bars in some happening city with cool hipster names all day for all I care. I’m way more into whiteboards. Whiteboards are my jam.

Whiteboards are great for the obvious reasons, mostly in that they are like way easier and more efficient and shinier and better for a lot of writing on them. Sure, they can look stark in an empty room, or add to clutter. And they’re not necessarily the most well-designed functional item that is also decorative and  I do think a chalkboard is more aesthetically pleasing. But when it comes down to efficiency...then the whiteboard is where it’s at.

And like chalkboard paint, you can make the walls of your office a whiteboard with that special whiteboard paint and then you can just write all over your walls which is super fun and/or convenient depending on if you are a small child or an adult who writes on whiteboards a lot of the time or somewhere in between.

Also I’m one of those people who weirdly loves the smell of gasoline, so yeah, it doesn’t hurt that those dry erase markers make my olfactory glands go gaga.

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