Monthly Archives: March 2012

Diary of a New Pinterest User

Day One

10 a.m. Ugh. I’m so sick of everyone talking about Pinterest.

10:15 a.m. It just sounds so stupid. Basically a glorified bulletin board like you used to put up in college and wanted everyone to look at to see all the “cool” things you put on it but no one ever did. So stupid. People will fall for anything.

10:16 a.m. Like I need another social networking site to manage anyway.

10:18 a.m. OK! FINE! I’ll sign up! Just to check it out. So I can, you know, make fun of it. More thoroughly.

10:21 a.m. Waiting list!?! What the…? What the hell do they mean “I’m on a waiting list”? Who the hell do they think they are? It’s a website not Studio 54. I knew this would be stupid.

Day Three

2 p.m. Oh-ho! What do we have here? Pinterest finally decided I was worthy enough of their rinky-dink little site? Well, too late, douchebags. I don’t need your pity invite.

2:05 p.m. Ugh! Fine. Just a quick look-see. This is so stupid.

2:30 p.m. Soooo…I just pin things I like in different categories…? What’s the point?

2:31 p.m. Son of a…why am I automatically following 200 people? And why does it keep updating all this crap to Facebook!? I hate this website.

2:32 p.m. Oh! That is a pretty cool dress, though.

2:33 p.m. OK. Bored now. Signing off.

Day Four

9 a.m. Twenty-four followers overnight? Whoa. And I haven’t even really done anything yet. Eh, I got a few minutes. May as well give it another go.

9: 50 a.m. Wait, what time is it? Wow. Time really got away from me there. I’ll just browse a bit more and then start my workday.

10:22 a.m. All this stuff is so cool. And for some strange reason, even though I’m just admiring the work of other creative people, it somehow makes me feel creative by default…

10:25 p.m. Man, it’s like I can create my own dream life on here.

10:34 a.m. Everything I own sucks. Why can’t my life look like my ‘Things I Want’ board!?! I HATE MY LIFE!

11:12 a.m. Oh my God, I’m totally going to try this recipe tonight. Right after I go to the park and try to recreate those black and white photos I saw. Oh! And maybe I can swing by the bookstore on my way back to pick up that new Stephen King book I pinned on my “Must Read” board.

3:13 p.m. I’m totally going to start doing crafts and selling them on Etsy.

8 p.m. Holy shit! When did it get dark out?

8:42 p.m. And tomorrow I’ll start jogging now that I have that “Workout Motivation” board. And then go through my closet and re-organize so I can make room for all the new things on my “Personal Style” board…

Day Five


5:17 a.m. I should really go to bed.

5: 18 a.m. Oh! Wait! Look at that! Repin, bitches!

Grocery Shopping With Your Spouse 101

There are a lot of ways to get to know your significant other better. And let’s face it, no matter how much you think you know, there are always more things you can learn about them. Human beings are vastly complicated creatures. That’s why no one has yet been able to explain why we like sodomizing dead birds with other dead birds in the form of turducken or why we willingly inject poison into our faces so we perpetually look surprised.

For instance, you could stay up all night talking about your hopes and fears, or about that year you experimented with the goth vampire look, or how you voted for Obama but secretly wanted McCain to win so Tina Fey would keep playing Palin for the next four years on SNL. You could take an extended road trip together (as long as neither one of you brings a weapon of any kind along). You could even let each other read the lame poetry you wrote in junior high (shut up, we all know you did).

But nothing, NOTHING, helps you to see into the very core of your partner’s being like grocery shopping together.


Few other activities can give as much insight into each of your personalities and values. That whole “you are what you eat” is complete bunk. It’s actually “you are what food you buy.”

Take this past Sunday, for instance. Now, normally, it’s my husband who does the bulk of the grocery shopping and this is because I tend to get irrationally angry and downright close to homicidal when I get stuck in an aisle behind some soccer mom who can’t decide between Rago or Prego because while Prego tastes better, Rago has fewer calories and little Suzie doesn’t like mushrooms but hmm they look cut up small enough for her to not even notice but would the four cheese or tomato and basil taste better with the ziti tonight and oh my god, MOVE, YOU PINK TRACK-SUIT CLAD MORON!!!

And he does a great job at it. He even knows my preferred products for all my monthly lady business.

But every once in awhile on the weekends, I’ll tag along either out of sheer boredom or because I’ve had enough tranquilizers to make me relatively harmless toward my fellow shoppers.

And that’s when I discovered that every aisle is a chance to wonder just who the hell is this alien standing beside me.

For example, this is how most of our discourse went:

Me: “Three packages of cookies? Really?”

Him: “Wait, you need a different face cream for day than you do for night? What’s the difference? Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Me: “You’re honestly telling me you need three 2-liters of Diet Pepsi? At this point, do you just pee pure sugar?”

Him: “Oh my god, who needs that much sausage?” (Me and him in unison: “That’s what she said”).

Me: “Dude, put back that Valentine’s candy or I will saw off your foot off just to give you a taste of your diabetes-filled future.”

Him: “No. NO! Put back the Red Bull. You act like you’re on meth when you drink that stuff and I will not spend another night talking you down.”

Me: “Cracklin’ Oat Bran? That’s the cereal you picked? You have the combined palette of a 5-year-old and my grandpa.”

Him: “What do you mean the ‘fancy’ bread? What the hell is ‘fancy’ bread? Bread that has a little bow tie on each slice?”

Of course, there are things we accept about each other without question. He knows that me being a woman means I am programmed to buy any and all food and drink that claim to have “anti-oxidants” in them. And I know that he has a deep, deep love affair with peanut butter that I can never hope to tear asunder. And, believe it or not, there are also even a few things we agree on, such as you can never have too much coffee or wine or cheese.

But the good news is, who needs to pay for expensive marital counseling when you can just work out your issues in the canned food aisle?