I have discovered something that is uniquely Californian about myself.
Avocado.
They don’t put it on everything here (what a concept!) and yesterday whilst I was making my sandwich my coworkers were baffled.
“Omg, that sandwich looks amazing! I never thought of putting Avocado on a sandwich.”
WHUT? What dismal life have these people been living without Avocado on their sandwiches? A life not worth living that’s what. That heavenly fruit makes everything AMAZING.
“You don’t put avocado on your sandwiches?”
“Well I mean, if I’m at a restaurant and they have avocado on their sandwiches I’ll eat it, but I never think of putting it on myself.”
And as I stared dumbfounded…unsure of how to react to this information because avocado on a sandwich is just…well it’s just how it’s done…the Office Manager chimed in…
“Yeah while I was living in California I noticed you guys put avocado in everything, we just really don’t do that here.”
Which I guess makes sense since we are a state proud of our avocado…we do have access to fresh ones all year. I just never put 2 and 2 together that this was special to California. I assumed that everyone else in the country utilized the avocado as we do…in every way possible. Hell I’ll just take a spoon to an avocado and eat it plain…or with sugar and lemon… or as guac with chips…or in a salad…or in a boba shake, or you know, on my sandwich…yum.
You learn something new every day.
p.s. one more side note: they don’t call it boba here, they call it black pearls and sometimes bubble tea…you should have seen the looks of confusion I got when I ordered boba in my tea.
Whilst running today I noticed a high volume of women wearing pants with that weird little u on the back.And by high volume I mean 4/5… Now at work I have been “educated”,several times, in the huge benefits of that u…
For those of you who don’t know what that means, I’m talking about Lululemon.
Now I have a question. What the fuck is up with this? First of all…Lululemon? Is that some kind of scented candle?
No but really? REALLY? 100 dollars for apartment pants?
Oh but Rachel, you don’t understand, they’re made of amazing material!
What the fuck could they be made of!? It better be something offensively lavish like gold thread spun by Rumpelstiltskin’s bitch or rubies…or how about something just plain offensive like severely endangered tiger fur or…or…babies. That’s fucking it, they’re made of babies.
Oh these ones? These are new born. The fabric is more supple and better for lounging. You looking to exercise? Try the toddler pants. Less supple but more durable, luxurious all the same. Now you really want to treat yourself, these here ones are made of fetus. They replenish your cells while you lounge making you younger! These are $150
Alrighty, fine sure, I’ll throw down 150 boners for fetus pants.
Holy shit it’s windy here…go figure
There’s this weird flaky light snow floating around outside. It’s like walking around in dandruff…it’s not snowing today…it’s dandruffing
One of the worst parts about having a cold in Chicago, or I guess in any city with a good public transportation system, is trying not to cough on the bus. Sniffling, sneezing and oh so hungover on too much niquil I sit there each morning trying desperatly to keep my germs to myself while healthy commuters jostle precariously close to me and my irritated throat. When all I want to do the entire bus ride is let out a loud hack to clear whatever little demons are scratching at my larynx, it’s all can do to keep my mouth shut and clear my throat in a desperate attempt at relief. It’s pretty much 45 minutes of pure agony…BUT common curtesy must prevail because, believe me, I am the first person to complain about those asswipes who cough all over us in the tiny confines of the bus.
But I guess the actual worst part about having a cold in Chicago (specifically) is the wind…the wind that finds it’s way in your scarf totally defeating your efforts at protecting your sickly parts…Makes it a real bitch to get any better.
In case you were wondering…I feel like crap…someone make me some chicken noodle soup please.
I probably shouldn’t be announcing this because I know some firemen, BUT, Rachel and I are at war with our smoke alarm. It goes off at the slightest amount of smoke…all the time, even when you TURN THE OVEN ON. What the fuck kind of fire alarm goes off when you turn the oven on? It’s seriously the most fucking annoying thing on the planet. I can’t cook if Rachel’s asleep because I know it will go off and she will wake up and vice versa… So today, after a particularly rough battle whilst cooking chicken (in the oven) Rachel and I made the executive decision to take the battery out.
Through the cursing, yells and general melee I managed to get on my coffee table and take out the battery…EXCEPT THE ALARM DIDN’T STOP!!! Yes our fire alarm is possessed. I felt like Pheobe Buffet…without the hot fire men barging in to stop her from her illegal activities. So I fiddled with it some more and got it to stop.
…except now it beeps every 20 seconds or so…and I can’t figure out how to get it to stop. I am now resolved to DESTROY the thing.
You’ve won this battle, smoke detector…but I WILL win the war.
