spinach dip, and why it's ruining my life

this week started off normally enough; monday and tuesday were fine (albeit very slow), and wednesday was as well. however a good friend of mine and more often than not partner in crime, decided to celebrate the day of his birth wednesday night with some true-blue, low brow debauchery. now those of you who know me know that by no means do I demand to frequent those upscale lounges which boast sinatra-esque background music and 9-dollar martinis. in fact, I prefer the hole in the wall, exploding bathroom, $1.75-for-a-coors-light establishment. the grosser the better, right? $1.75 for a coors light? sign me up! and keep 'em comin cause I'm gettin drunk, motherfuckers! wait, you guys are takin jager bombs? hey, bring me 2 of 'em! so, by a show of hands, how many of you go up to Sammy's on Western and say, "well I'm just gonna have a couple beers, maybe split a pitcher with someone, and head home"? Ummm I did. silly me. I got tanked. not just like, oooo I'm a little tipsy, maybe I should leave and call it a night. GOOD NIGHT ALL, AND BON ANNIVERSAIRE GOOD FRIEND! yeah right. I did the macarena. I actually did that stupid fucking dance. at the bar. in front of people. I wasn't the only one, although I seem to recall a friend of mine yelling, "spin me! spin me!" I wasn't aware the macarena was a 2-person thing, but whatever. I got smart with a frizzy haired, aeropostale sweatshirt wearin' (don't even get me started on that store. anyone over the age of 13 should not be allowed to go in there. I'm serious. I'll start checking IDs at the door if I have to.), queen of all that is hello kitty and high school musical. I hate to judge by appearances, cause lord knows what people say about me, but I met the girl once, and she copped attitude with me then, and I haven't liked her since. so when I asked her how old she was, she said she's going to be 22 in 10 days. yeah right. in my drunken stupor, I slurred a retort that was similar to "oh damn we thought you were like, 19!" and walked away. she acts like she's 17, so I payed her a compliment in my book. ANYWAY. I was so hungover, I had to actually eat a cheeseburger so my stomach wouldn't explode. sidebar: vegetarians get cravings like pregnant women. I haven't been able to eat red meat in over 2 months, and after lunch yesterday I felt like I could eat the rest of the cow... BRING ON THE PORTERHOUSE! so my friend came over, and we were lended to the rest of the day on the couch, watching episodes of the real world and dr. phil on dvr all day until the hunger pangs set in once again. now let me begin this tragedy by telling you just how fucking awesome the harris teeter spinach dip is. we're not talkin restaurant spinach dip good, we're talking those 9-11 terrorists hijacked a flavor plane of celebration and landed that shit right in my mouth. it's AMAZING. so, of course when said friend suggested picking up some of this divine dip from the teeter, I strapped myself to the hood of her car before she could even get her shoes on. of course, I looked like hell warmed over. no one showers hungover, house rule. sorry guys. we were hoping that this would be an in-and-out mission, but to no avail. where the fuck do they put that stuff? we searched high and low, over and under, but no dip was found. now, I generally make it a rule to never ask anyone grocery store employee where something is because they NEVER HAVE A CLUE! I'm serious. I've NEVER been directed to the correct location of what I want. and dammit if I can't find the cocktail onions myself, then it just wasn't meant to be (moment of silence for the gibson martini that never was). about after half an hour, we started to feel a little foolish, and decided to ask for help. per usual, no one could tell us anything. even the people who MAKE the shit didn't know where it was. is this rocket science? did I miss something? was there a class called "how to find shit in the grocery store and avoid losing your goddamn mind" that I forgot to take? we stood there, defeated. close to an hour of my life, wasted, and all I have to show for it is some hummus, triscuits, and a diet snapple. on top of that, I swear I saw the most beautiful man order a sammich in the deli section. he then proceeded to stand directly behind me in the check-yourself-out-and-fuck-it-up-and-make-everyone-wait-on-your-dumbass line. I almost died. literally. he made me nervous, and I was on the verge of a grade A anxiety attack. note to self: must learn how to talk to members of the opposite sex before becoming middle-age spinster with 27 cats and who scares away neighborhood children. so we left, shoulders slumped, dragging our feet, into the cold, cloudy night. but my hummus is pretty delicious. so I got that goin for me, which is nice.



oh, and greek god with your turkey and provolone on wheat, extra banana peppers...I love you.