Sunday, August 4, 2013

Firm Summer

So apparently the huge music festival I can see the top of from my porch is Hard Summer. I suppose if I had any taste in music or an addiction to ecstasy I would have known that much earlier. But I much prefer to shop for cheap storage furniture at Target, which is exactly what I did today. I also went to the 99 Cent Store.

Okay.

Guys.

You guys.

Have you BEEN to a 99 Cent Store recently?!

That's all the ecstasy I need, kids.
I didn't prepare myself mentally or emotionally for the wonders that awaited me inside. It had everything. Simply. Everything. And once I had everything I went there to get, the spirit of the 99 Cent Store took me by the hand and said, "You've got a pretty full cart there, Jessica. But before you go-- you need a pasta strainer, don't you?" And I said, "Yes, 99 Cent Store, that completely slipped my mind." "Well then," replied the 99 Cent Store, "I believe I have a few lying around here-- do you like pink, orange, or lime green?" "Lime green," I said, though somehow I knew the 99 Cent Store already knew my favorite color. We continued in this fashion for several aisles until I had scoped out every shelf and decided it was about time to head out. In the check-out line I turned to the 99 Cent Store and said, "This is all great 99 Cent Store, I can't thank you enough. But tell me one thing-- how do you do it? I mean, look at all of this. This toilet paper is 2-ply, yet you're still willing and able to sell it to me for just a dollar." To which the 99 Cent Store replied, "Do not concern yourself with such matters, just know that I am here to provide for you." Caught up in the moment I asked, "Would you like to go out for coffee sometime, or...?"

And then my credit card got declined and that was some bullshit, but after running to the bank I was able to come back and haul my 6 bags' worth of 99 Cent goodness back to my apartment.

Don't get me wrong, I've also done the majority of my grocery shopping in the little markets in Chinatown, as well as the Thai marketplace a friend recently took me too. We even got freshly-made Thai tacos-- and whatever you think those are, you're probably wrong. Turns out they're like a crispy crepe with marshmallow spread and grated fruit... it's more or less a taco-shaped dessert.

CONSUME THEM ALL
Oh! And exciting tidbit... the two other former tenants left behind a magical assortment of dishware. One was an older Chinese woman, and she left the best goodies. Namely: a mother-wokking WOK, an ornate assortment of chopsticks and rice bowls, and a fricking stellar rice cooker! Which I used *S*U*C*C*S*S*E*S*S*F*U*L*L*Y* for the first time today. Check me out, 4 days in Chinatown and my whole kitchen conduct is getting flipped on its head. Look at what my pantry currently looks like:

[and a packet of jelly, because chicks dig Smucker's]
Versus what it used to look like:

Can you spot what the two have in common?
And then this was my dinner:

  

Versus what it used to look like:


And my most recent noodle purchase is those thin rice vermicelli kinda noodles, not angel hair pasta. WHAT'S GOING ON?

And now for a caveat I like to call:

Encounters of the neighborly kind

 Because of Hard Summer, parking has been a bit of a chore yesterday and today. Well, today I was attempting to park my car in a place where it was very conspicuously poking into somebody's driveway, and I was nervous. I got out of my car and, lo and behold, the two owners of the house-- an elderly Chinese couple-- were sitting on their balcony watching me.

Xit.
They only spoke Chinese, but what they lacked in English they made up for in extravagant hand gestures telling me where else I could park. The only other place I could see was this very awkwardly-angled bit of curb that no person could feasibly park against without half of the vehicle sticking out into the street. But they kept gesturing for me to go there, and they were smiling, which led me to believe they were being helpful rather than curmudgeonly. For a good 5-10 minutes I attempted to oblige them, but I had no idea how I could park my car on this bizarre strip of curb.

Finally the old Chinese man came down, speaking very quickly and gesturing wildly that I could pull forward. There was a dip in the curb so I was fairly certain I couldn't park in front of it, and I kept saying, "Really? I can park here?" I might've done a thumbs up gesture, I can't remember. But he just kept waving his hands and speaking loudly in a way that was neither angry nor overly-cordial... a face that seemed to say, "It's not her fault the girl's so stupid, let's correct this." I looked up at his wife on the balcony and she had a similar expression. So finally I pulled forward. The man gestured to the dipped curb and did a very big, "Pppppah, git outta here!" flap of the hands which seemed to communicate that the dip was not for a driveway, so it was okay to park there.

, he said to me.
I'm really hoping that they were actually being nice, and that they weren't just trying to keep their driveway clear. I'd actually better go out there now and double-check my windshield...

*musical interlude*

What do you know, the old couple was right! Okay, so this turned out to be a happy story. This is better than a Goosebumps pick-your-own-adventure, I tell you what.

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