Why I hate Jewel

This is my actual review on Yelp.com of my local Jewel (1341 N. Paulina Ave, Chicago, IL)

I don't know how to say this. This store.... Well, it sucks. Plain and simple. And not sucks like a stubbed toe. No, sucks like non-consensual intercourse with a rabid wildebeest. Sucks like being gored to death by a horde of rampaging pygmies. It smells like an unholy combination of fermented toe jam and whale vomit.

Escher could not draw a more confusing store layout if he tried. Two full aisles right in the middle of the store are devoted to all things not grocery, such as paper towels, garbage bags, and fanciful little paper plates. Why are these not in the Osco? The sugar and flour...they must have been mean to each other on the ride over and are now in different sections to keep them from combining into fluffy baked delights. Beef salami chubs? Still haven't found them. I've been looking since April. I even had trained bloodhounds looking. Bread that has not been mushed by thousands of grubby mitts apparently does not exist in Jewel-world.

On the best of days, the produce selection looks like a yak has been grazing there. On the worst of days, it looks as though the lettuce personally insulted the yak's mother and the entire produce section was consequently mauled in an awesome display of raw power The tomatoes are unripe, the lettuce, overripe. Carrots seem to hang out in about 4 different sections, but they always look surly and I'm vaguely frightened they may hold up my milk once I get the into the fridge at home.

The meat section has that "I'm pretty sure last night ended in a drunken tirade outside the Liars Club" look to it. Beef, chicken, pork? What's the difference? It should all be mixed together by our patrons making it impossible for you to find the ground beef that's on sale. At least none of the meat is green. That's probably because the blinding light from the 1,000,000 candle power ceiling lights has scorched my retinas beyond repair.

The clientele...for a while, I had difficulty telling the hipster guys from the hipster girls, but that may have been due in large part to the plethora of screaming children running around and banging carts into me, completely being ignored by the mouth-breathing parents. Kids: Shut your screaming mouth before I cram that thing of Poptarts so far down it you end up wearing it as a diaper. Oh, and maybe try saying "Mom? Could you please buy Poptarts for me?" instead of "MA! BUY ME DESE!" Parents: Pull their pants up. Put a clean shirt on them. This is not the IGA in Toad Suck, Arkansas. And smack them if they use that kind of language again.

The employees are actually the shining star here. Apparently the concept of a "line" is beyond some folks, and they will wander to the front of the self-checkout line and waltz right up to the first open till with nary a "Oh I'm sorry, were you waiting?" Thanks to the intrepid self-checkout-monitor-person, this inconsiderate cretin will find themselves sharply reprimanded and sent to the back of the line wearing a dunce cap.

So, to summarize. Get a Fresh Values card and go to your local Dominick's. The one on Clybourn just north of Fullerton smells of all things gourmet and has beautiful people, food and help. Give it a shot. You'll thank me.

The fat lady sang

My first opera experience is over. Turns out it was a good thing I did not wear a suit. Khakis and a white cotton oxford matched my psuedo-date perfectly. As far as the actual opera went, it was rather enjoyable. A good introduction to opera. W and I both agree that having the set in our living room would rock. Then we could call people over and say "Hey...check out what this can do." That's be cool.

Operatic

So tomorrow I am going to Romeo and Juliet with a friend of a friend. I know nothing about opera, but she has an extra ticket and no one to take. So hey, free opera. Who am I to complain? Meanwhile, I'm stuck with one question. Do I wear a suit?

You'll shoot your eye out, kid!

And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city.
Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Every year, Christmas happens. It's one of those things, like 4th of July, or me getting the flu. Well, it's more predictable than me getting the flu, though the flu is a guarantee for some reason too. Holidays weren't an easy time for me last year, pending divorce and whatnot, but I did manage to muster up enough spirit to do some baking and present procurement for those important to me. It may have helped that last year the day I did most of my shopping it was about 25 degrees outside, steel gray skies and snowing. Something about being outside in the snow, eating chestnuts roasted over an open fire, drinking hot chocolate and listening to carolers just puts one in the mood apparently. I'm not kidding about the chestnuts or the carolers. For all my dislike of the suburbs, some of them do up Christmas proper.

This year however, I have no lights hung, no tree decorated, no presents purchased and no tasty treats baked. Heck, I can't even decide if I want to bake, let alone what to bake. I'm struggling with this. It's a new experience to me to not be excited about Christmas. What's even more odd is that I want to be in the mood for Christmas. I mean, I really wish I were motivated to decorate a tree and hang some lights, make the house smell like sugar plum fairies and whatnot. But I feel like Scrooge. Bah, humbug.

Maybe it's because I'm finally sick and tired of the uber-commercialization of this holiday.It's all about buy, BUY, BUY!!!! More more more! As a society we're held captive by the marketing industry and the message it sends. If your husband doesn't buy you a diamond ring, he's a loser. Your wife should purchase you a new Lexus for Christmas. Kids, you're only as cool as the latest video game system. What happened to "for 'tis better to give than to recieve"? These commercials are not about giving your loved ones a gift. No, they're about "you deserve this." Given our penchant as a society for the Seven Deadly Sins and utter avoidance of the Seven Heavenly Virtues, do we really deserve anything?

How many years now have we seen this scenario play out? Some store somewhere instructs their cashiers to say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas" and suddenly a hundred conservative commentators are barking about the decline in morality in our society and how this is a liberal plot to take Jesus out of Christmas. We'll ignore the fact that people had been celebrating the winter solstice for many years before Christ was born, and that Pope Julius I merely declared Jesus's birthday should coincide with these celebrations in order to make Christianity more accessible to pagans.

Based on these two things, here's my suggestions for new Christmas traditions. Find yourself someone who's in the advertising or marketing industry. Scream "Buy me stuff!" and slap them in the face until they comply. Then tell them "Now you know how I feel." This may be a little harsh for some folks. So I offer this suggestion for those who are faint of heart. Find all your arch-conservative friends. You know, the ones who boycott stores based on their greeting. Have a solstice party for them with mistletoe, holly, gifts, food, drinks, friends and relatives. All those things that we're used to. If they use the phrase "Jesus is the reason for the season," slap them and tell them that no, the tilt and rotation of the earth is the reason, and this is celebration of that. Finally (and more seriously), dig up all your friends and family. Have a party with them. Make (or buy, but not based on what the moving picture box tells you) gifts for them that you think they will enjoy. Go to church. Thank God that even though we as humans pretty much suck, He still gave us something He knew we would enjoy.