This cracks me up more than anything else lately. LOVE the English subtitles.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RgL2MKfWTo
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Shallots
Now that the weather is finally nice again (every other day or so at least) I’m really trying to get some good use out of my bike. And in that same sense of self-improvement, I’m also trying to learn to cook because, who knows, maybe one day I will be a “Mrs.” and therefore be required to create edible meals for someone other than my cat. Wishful thinking.
So yesterday I loaded up the bike and drove over to Freedom Trail. Someone at the Capitol mentioned it was a good trail, so I decided to give it a go. It’s true- the Trail is a good one. I rode my spandex-clad behind over every inch of path I could find, tiring myself out after only an hour’s ride. Yes, I am outrageously out of shape- it should be a crime, bearing the same penalty as wearing leggings 24-7 (ahem, Lindsay Lohan). Seeing as how I really could care less about how I look when I grocery shop (a reason I’m perpetually single? Possibly.), I packed up my bike, and took my sweaty, spandex-y self to the grocery store.
At the intersection of Freedom Parkway and Ponce de Leon, the grocery shopper has two options: turn left for Kroger or turn right for Publix. Taking into mind my loathe for the state of Florida, I took a left and went to Kroger, knowing that my old faithful grocery store would not make me regret this decision.
A side note about my Kroger. It’s um, how shall I phrase this, “urban.” It’s between North Avenue (should tell you enough right there) and Ponce de Leon. Its nickname is ‘Murder Kroger’ presumably because they kill competition with low prices. Riiiight. But I still choose to go there because I like to stand brave in the face of fear and support the struggling local national chain store. Plus, it’s frighteningly close to Atlanta’s best pizza joint.
Now here’s where the fun starts. If it’s not toilet paper, milk, or beer, I’m pretty much at a loss when I’m at the grocery store. But the recipe I found was pretty simple: tuna steaks (does that come from a cow-fish!?), spinach, russet potatoes (there is more than one kind of potato? Maybe that’s why Dan Quayle got confused), and shallots. So you can see my dilemma. Amazingly, I managed to get all the ingredients save for the tuna steaks and shallots. Shallots, shallots… I have heard the word before, but are they crackers? Dairy products? Vegetables? Yes, that’s it- vegetable! So, I scour the seemingly infinitesimal veggie section at the Murder Kroger but alas, no shallots. But, maybe this is user error- surely every Kroger sells every ingredient in every recipe. Sadly, there were no shallots at the store, according to the produce manager. Humpf. Ok, whatever- they were just to add to the spinach, I can do without.
Off to the seafood section. Wait, don’t blink. Darn it, you missed it. I turned back around to the glass case with shrimp and crab legs in it, with a jar of capers offered for sale resting on top. “Excuse me, sir? Er, ma’am? (indeterminable gender; I love Atlanta) Do you happen to have tuna steaks?” At this point, the seafood specialist, I’ refer to as “Pat,” looked in the case at the shrimp, then the crab legs, then back at me; “Nope.” Fabulous, Murder Kroger let me down. Now I will have to stop at Publix anyway. Whatever- I am running on the remaining endorphins from my fabulous bike ride, so it’s no big deal. Grudgingly, I get in line to check out with whatever ingredients I could find at Kroger. After waiting behind a seemingly homeless man purchasing a one-liter bottle of mouthwash- it is Sunday after all- I checked out, and headed to the Publix.
At this point, the Borders syndrome is starting to kick in. This delicate little condition is a peculiarity of my body. After 10 minutes in a bookstore (Borders being my book purchasing preference and therefore the name given to this syndrome), the urge to potty kicks in. Apparently, Borders and exercise are the two irritants of this syndrome. But no worries, I can make it…right?
Luck was on mine and my bladder’s side: there was a front row parking spot! In a fully occupied lot! Thank you Lord! This time, I’m not dawdling; I’m going straight to the first person with a Publix shirt and asking where the shallots are. Ta-dah! They were right in front of me and Juan, the produce guy. It’s amazing how inconspicuous these things are- just hanging on a rack in a little mesh bag. I never would have seen them on my own, thanks Juan! Time to head for the tuna steaks, albeit heading very slowly, as it is rather difficult to walk and simultaneously cross your legs. There is no fresh tuna, shoot! Whatever, we’re at Threat-CON Charlie here, so frozen will do. Two steaks, check. Two shallots, check.
The 15 items or less line is short, hooray! There is, however, another vagrant with a bottle of mouthwash. This makes me a stronger supporter of Sunday Sales- at least beer won’t put you in a coma after one bottle. I check out with a quickness, shuffle to the car, and speed home. I barely make it home without embarrassing myself, but at least I made it home.
I didn’t even like the shallots.
So yesterday I loaded up the bike and drove over to Freedom Trail. Someone at the Capitol mentioned it was a good trail, so I decided to give it a go. It’s true- the Trail is a good one. I rode my spandex-clad behind over every inch of path I could find, tiring myself out after only an hour’s ride. Yes, I am outrageously out of shape- it should be a crime, bearing the same penalty as wearing leggings 24-7 (ahem, Lindsay Lohan). Seeing as how I really could care less about how I look when I grocery shop (a reason I’m perpetually single? Possibly.), I packed up my bike, and took my sweaty, spandex-y self to the grocery store.
At the intersection of Freedom Parkway and Ponce de Leon, the grocery shopper has two options: turn left for Kroger or turn right for Publix. Taking into mind my loathe for the state of Florida, I took a left and went to Kroger, knowing that my old faithful grocery store would not make me regret this decision.
A side note about my Kroger. It’s um, how shall I phrase this, “urban.” It’s between North Avenue (should tell you enough right there) and Ponce de Leon. Its nickname is ‘Murder Kroger’ presumably because they kill competition with low prices. Riiiight. But I still choose to go there because I like to stand brave in the face of fear and support the struggling local national chain store. Plus, it’s frighteningly close to Atlanta’s best pizza joint.
Now here’s where the fun starts. If it’s not toilet paper, milk, or beer, I’m pretty much at a loss when I’m at the grocery store. But the recipe I found was pretty simple: tuna steaks (does that come from a cow-fish!?), spinach, russet potatoes (there is more than one kind of potato? Maybe that’s why Dan Quayle got confused), and shallots. So you can see my dilemma. Amazingly, I managed to get all the ingredients save for the tuna steaks and shallots. Shallots, shallots… I have heard the word before, but are they crackers? Dairy products? Vegetables? Yes, that’s it- vegetable! So, I scour the seemingly infinitesimal veggie section at the Murder Kroger but alas, no shallots. But, maybe this is user error- surely every Kroger sells every ingredient in every recipe. Sadly, there were no shallots at the store, according to the produce manager. Humpf. Ok, whatever- they were just to add to the spinach, I can do without.
Off to the seafood section. Wait, don’t blink. Darn it, you missed it. I turned back around to the glass case with shrimp and crab legs in it, with a jar of capers offered for sale resting on top. “Excuse me, sir? Er, ma’am? (indeterminable gender; I love Atlanta) Do you happen to have tuna steaks?” At this point, the seafood specialist, I’ refer to as “Pat,” looked in the case at the shrimp, then the crab legs, then back at me; “Nope.” Fabulous, Murder Kroger let me down. Now I will have to stop at Publix anyway. Whatever- I am running on the remaining endorphins from my fabulous bike ride, so it’s no big deal. Grudgingly, I get in line to check out with whatever ingredients I could find at Kroger. After waiting behind a seemingly homeless man purchasing a one-liter bottle of mouthwash- it is Sunday after all- I checked out, and headed to the Publix.
At this point, the Borders syndrome is starting to kick in. This delicate little condition is a peculiarity of my body. After 10 minutes in a bookstore (Borders being my book purchasing preference and therefore the name given to this syndrome), the urge to potty kicks in. Apparently, Borders and exercise are the two irritants of this syndrome. But no worries, I can make it…right?
Luck was on mine and my bladder’s side: there was a front row parking spot! In a fully occupied lot! Thank you Lord! This time, I’m not dawdling; I’m going straight to the first person with a Publix shirt and asking where the shallots are. Ta-dah! They were right in front of me and Juan, the produce guy. It’s amazing how inconspicuous these things are- just hanging on a rack in a little mesh bag. I never would have seen them on my own, thanks Juan! Time to head for the tuna steaks, albeit heading very slowly, as it is rather difficult to walk and simultaneously cross your legs. There is no fresh tuna, shoot! Whatever, we’re at Threat-CON Charlie here, so frozen will do. Two steaks, check. Two shallots, check.
The 15 items or less line is short, hooray! There is, however, another vagrant with a bottle of mouthwash. This makes me a stronger supporter of Sunday Sales- at least beer won’t put you in a coma after one bottle. I check out with a quickness, shuffle to the car, and speed home. I barely make it home without embarrassing myself, but at least I made it home.
I didn’t even like the shallots.
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