Tag Archives: Publix

Amazon: Where Hermit Shopping is a Pleasure (Publix)

Shopping makes me feel like this.
Shopping makes me feel like this.

Sundays tend to be my domestic goddess days. I’m usually busy for hours with vacuuming, laundry, and even ironing. While I was ironing my son’s work pants, khaki Chinos, I thought that he could probably use a couple more pairs. Then, I thought about going to Kohl’s, where we got the pair he presently owns. I didn’t want to think about how they are going to insist I use my Kohl’s card so I can save whatever percent, and ask me if I have my Kohl’s cash or Kohl’s coupon from the circular that is mailed to my house every 25 seconds. As your friendly neighborhood work from home ENGLISH professor, shopping that requires all of these numbers and extra accessories makes my head hurt. Then, I remembered that I don’t have to go to Kohl’s, or anywhere, to get my son’s Chinos. There is that glowing safe haven for all of my shopping needs – Amazon.

  1. You don’t get pestered to join a rewards program every time you check out. If one more cashier asks me to add a plastic card to my key ring I may end up on the evening news for flying over the counter and stomping on the cash register while screaming, “I JUST WANT TO PAY AND LEAVE!!” On Amazon, you get asked to join the Prime program once a year, and it actually has real benefits like free shipping and cheap movie rentals.
  2. You can choose not to apply for the store credit card without some human in your face trying to reiterate how much money you will save because obviously your are not understanding this. I don’t want the damn store card and I’m not stupid.
  3. Two words—other people. You don’t have to walk through a maze of people who either enjoy shopping or don’t know what the hell they want to get to your item of choice. You just click and pay. It’s a slice of hermit heaven.
  4. Most things are actually in stock. I hate to name names here, but Best Buy, I’m talking to you. Most of the time that I go into actual stores, other than the grocery store, I am unable to locate the item I need. This happens ALL THE TIME in Best Buy. It almost NEVER happens on Amazon. They stock EVERYTHING.
  5. No parking lot.   Parking lots always seem full whenever I want to shop. Also, they’re usually not covered, so you need to walk in the snow, rain, wind or whatever unpleasant weather to get to the nice climate-controlled store. And, there’s usually that one idiot who leaves their dog in the car, which causes me to have to dig out the phone number to report them to the sheriff’s office. In addition to everything else, there are creepy people who stalk you so they can take your parking spot, and sometimes, according to a recent 20/20 episode, they get violent.

I’m not taking any chances. I will just stay right here at my cozy dining room table with a cat on my lap, and log in to Amazon. See you never, people-filled stores.

Note: “Where Shopping is a Pleasure” is Publix’s slogan.  Publix is the world’s best grocery store, and I miss it dearly now that I live in Yankee land.

Kitty Shitty Monday

I kind of thought it was going to be a craptastic day because it was dreary and rainy before the sun even rose. I hate rain, especially cold rain that lasts ALL GRAY DAY LONG. Rain really seems to aggravate my allergies and gives me a wicked sinus headache, not that there are good sinus headaches. So, I added an Allegra to my morning vitamin routine.

Sinus Headache Weather
Sinus Headache Weather

Then, the catfights started. If you have read this blog, you know that Andre has two moods: loving and homicidal. Today, he has tried to kill Morris at least five times. When the fighting started, I sprayed Feliway, which every vet we have ever seen recommends. It usually works if we “hot box” Andre in the bathroom by spraying a bunch of it in there, tossing Andre in, and closing the door for at least five minutes. No such luck today. He was in full on murder mode. (Note: Full On Murder Mode would make a great Heavy Metal band name.)

Halloween Kitty
Andre feels like this today.

Once I got the cats in different rooms, I decided to order my mom’s Mother’s Day gift online. That’s when Fifth-Third decided to shut down my debit card even though I have ordered from this particular site a few times in the past with my Fifth-Third card. It’s PUBLIX, not a porno site; I’m pretty sure it’s safe. After my card was declined twice, I ended up calling Publix and ordering the gift card over the phone, like cavemen used to do. I had to actually TALK to someone. WTF?

A couple of hours after I placed my order, Fifth-Third called my cell phone. I didn’t answer because it was a random Ohio number and I hate talking on the phone. See this blog for my phone answering protocol. The bank left a message telling me that my debit card was frozen. After rolling my eyes about 827 times while listening to the message, I had to call them back and wait on hold for 9,000 years, listening to bad muzak (is there good muzak) and a robot telling me how important my call was every 13 seconds.

Then, while waiting on the phone, I saw that Boo Boo had left a smooshy, bloody turd on the doormat leading to the garage. Welcome to my world. So, I balanced the phone on my shoulder and started to clean that up. Of course the customer service person picked up the phone right when I was dropping Boo’s “sample” into a sandwich baggie. I figured since she has done this a couple of times now, I should probably bring it to the vet.

Boo Boo doesn't feel good.
Boo Boo doesn’t feel good.

So, I quickly washed my hands while talking to the customer service person, who explained to me as slowly as possible that my card had been locked. No shit; that’s why I’m calling. I asked why all of the sudden my card was frozen for ordering from Publix, a site that I have ordered from before with no problem. At least that is what I was trying to ask. The Fifth-Third representative kept interrupting me mid-frigging sentence. I was starting to wish I had answered the phone when the first person called.

Once I was off the phone with a functioning debit card, I left to drop Boo’s smelly (even sealed in a bag) sample off. As soon as I got in the car with it, I hoped the drive over would be quick. This is probably why there was HALF a HOUSE blocking the street to the vet’s office. I could not get a photo, but you know what I’m talking about. Half of one of those pre-fabricated houses was falling off of its truck in the middle of the street. I had to make an almost accident causing turn to head back up the street to take THE LONG way to the vet.

It smells like it looks.
It smells like it looks.

I finally got there and gave the nice woman at the desk Boo’s gift. I’m sure she was thrilled. Sophie, our Black Lab/Dane, who was in day care at the vet’s office, as she is a couple of days a week so I can WORK from home, spotted me and got happy. This is after I witnessed her humping another dog. At home, Lola the Maltese is the humper. I guess it only makes sense that Sophie tries to be dominant elsewhere. No, I didn’t get a video for you. I will try again next time. So, I ended up taking Sophie home early since she saw that I was there.

And now she is here barking at the rain and wind along with Lola. I hope no one decides to walk by our house because that is usually cause for MORE barking. I understand that the children in Iraq are not exactly crying for me, but it was still a crappy (literally) Manic Monday. I totally hope the Bangles get back together and make a song called Kitty Shitty Monday.

Raw Hot Dogs and Dough

In the Duplex on Taylor
In the Duplex on Taylor

Back in the late 70’s, I was a latch key kid who had a list of chores and a healthy fear of her fierce single mom.  I was given strict orders to do my chores and homework (they didn’t kill elementary kids with homework in the 70’s), and stay in the apartment and not answer the door, which was easy for a young hermit.  At the time, we lived in a duplex on Taylor Street in Hollywood, FL.  Since I was not supposed to go outside or have friends over, I did a half-assed job on my chores and then turned on the TV.   This was before cable. So, I had to find a station with cartoons, and then move the antenna around on the TV until the static cleared enough for me to see Hercules or Deputy Dog.  Young people: antennas were skinny metal rods that used to be on top of TV’s – the fat, heavy TV’s – never mind.

At some point, usually during a Publix commercial, I made a snack.  I didn’t reach for fruit, even though we usually had apples and bananas on hand – not bad for a single parent household, eh statistic people?   Nope.  I would eat things that are gross to me now.  Once, I grabbed a cold hot dog out of the fridge and sat on the floor in front of the TV, just munching away.  Most of the time, I ate a serving bowl full of some sort of Captain Crunch type cereal.  A bowl is a serving, right?


Once I got into middle school, AKA the most miserable time in my life, my snacking got weirder.  One afternoon, after learning about protein, or “muscle meat” as my sixth-grade health teacher called it, I grabbed a leftover cooked chicken breast and ate it cold, with my hands, over the sink.  It was like I was in a zombie trance.  Must eat muscle meat.  That same year, I tried to make cornmeal mush afterschool.  No, I’m not sure why. Since we didn’t have Google or live in the Deep South, I just dumped corn meal, flour, salt, and milk in a frying pan with melted butter.  Boy, was that a nasty snack.  I ate it right over the frying pan; it was salty and carby.  I started eating cookie dough about that time, too, sometimes homemade, but mostly the Pillsbury kind in the roll.  I still do this and it scares my husband.  He’s worried about raw eggs, or something.  Carbs are like drugs to me.

My downfall is pasta.  It’s a gateway drug for me, or a trigger food, or whatever the cool kids call it.  It makes me eat like a killer whale. Once I start eating pasta, especially with pesto, it’s like I can’t even see.  I think this is called disassociating, but I didn’t end up majoring in psychology.  Carb-induced disassociating is probably the cause of many restaurant and grocery store thefts.  People eventually run out of pasta, so they must go out and steal more.  It’s only logical.


I wish I could say that all of this is behind me, but it’s not, not totally. I have found that if I eat mostly low carb things, I do better.  Every so often, I have a weird craving.  Today, it was salt.  It started out innocently enough; I was having an apple with peanut butter, and I sprinkled a little salt on the apple.  Then, when the apple was gone, I wanted more salt.  So, I just ate like a quarter of a teaspoon of pure table salt.  I’m glad there are no cameras in my house to witness things like this.  Actually, I could probably make a lot of money if I had my own reality show.  TLC, are you reading?

Note: I was inspired to write about my own dance with food by this great article by an old school friend.  

Lucky for Amy,  she never witnessed my strange eating.