Apparently I'm an abomination to the world of competent grocery shoppers thriving in suburbs and cities nationwide. I should not be allowed to enter any self-serve nourishment establishment unsupervised lest I harm myself or some organized, focused grocery expert.
Mike took me grocery shopping last night and guffawed at everything I placed warily in my cart. I can't help the fact that my mother should host Top Chef, my dad holds a gold medal for Most Effective Shopper in the World and Jose and Maria take good care of me in the dining hall at school. I have no idea what I should buy or make or eat. I usually just eat what's placed in front of me. Which has been very little this past week.
I get it. This is that thing. The one I've been successfully avoiding for quite some time now. I think they call it "The Real World." I've been living MTV's version for quite some time now (this is the story of six college girls... picked to live together...) My version of the Real World has been fun and games. For the most part. A month ago I would have jumped on Noelle and forced her to accompany me to Late Night for some deliciously unhealthy fried food.
Goodbye mozzarella sticks and chicken wings on demand. Hello 40 hour work week and no one to cook for my tired self when I get home.
Monday, June 9, 2008
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