Costco Confessions

Honk if you’re a fan of Costco!  I like to call it my vacation home.  The house with all the extra supplies.  The super-pantry.  Heaven.

Where else can you buy the world’s largest tub of hummus and then, on the other end of the food spectrum, turn around and eat a $1.50 hot dog/soda combo?!  For your reference, I suggest investing in the hot dog deal prior to shopping because you’ll need some ketchup-coated mystery meat energy in order to properly shop.

Having been a Costco convert since the 1800s, I’ve adopted a few lessons along the way that I’d like to share:

1. Drive Safely: Beware of rogue children colliding with your shopping cart.  Kids are fast, especially when horizontally diving in front of you.  Also note that a shopping cart, when rammed into the back of an ankle, still hurts.  On a side note, Kara, my apologies if your ankles are still in pain.  Please do not punish me for my poor shopping cart maneuvers.  I truly meant no harm.
2. Dress the Part: Bring a hat, sunglasses or an entire change of wardrobe.  This way, you need not be embarrassed for returning to the sample booths for a second go around.  Or a third.  A change in appearance will be particularly helpful when trying to prevent the sample lady from glaring at you upon your imminent return to sample, by chance, your third taste of tiramisu.  Good ol’ tiramisu.
3. Avoid Buyer’s Remorse: Bulk buying is no time for experimentation.  If you don’t like something beforehand then buying it in a giant container will not make it taste any better.  After a regrettable purchase, you’ll simply find yourself surrounded by scorned products, $13 in the hole and nowhere to run.  Remind me, why did I buy an enormous container of tic tacs when I, in fact, despise them?  I’m convinced all the multi-colored 1 1/2 calorie mints temporarily hypnotized me into a tic tac trance.  I previously tried to pawn them off to some friends, for the reduced (and greedy) price of 25¢ per container, upon which I received the following replies: You wish/Get lost/In your dreams.
   
4. Share the Wealth: Have you ever brought a first-timer along with you to Costco?  If not, give it a whirl.  From my experience, two possible scenarios will occur:  Option A) They will collapse into an overwhelmed state of fear, confusion and disorientation.  They will leave the store with only a handful of completely unnecessary items, such as a lifetime supply of beef jerky, dental floss and hydrogen peroxide.  If this doesn’t occur, then they will fall into the category of…..Option B) They will buy everything that can possibly fit into their shopping cart, including the newest edition of Rock Band, a waffle maker, a treadmill, new eyeglasses and, of course, toilet paper.  Somehow, during their shopping binge, they’ll also manage to get their car tires rotated in the automobile section.
5. Watch and Listen: Make sure to get in a good round of people watching.  I guarantee you’ll witness at least one good show during your expedition.  For example, during my last cruise around Costco, I took notice of an elementary school-aged boy shopping with his mom.  After they purchased their goods, she told him to sit at a nearby table and guard their two purchases while she ran off to the restroom.  What two items did they buy?  Candy, of course!  In fact, they bought two jumbo containers of king-sized candy bars.  The patient son sat there, staring intently at the candy as if he could magically will the wrappers off of the chocolate and start indulging.  Can you imagine being in his shoes?  An unaccompanied minor with two giant boxes of candy in his possession is pure danger but, alas, his willpower defeated his desire to rip apart the chocolate boxes.  In case you’re wondering, yes, I tried to report his mother for child candy torture but I couldn’t locate the contact information for the Costco Candy Police.

There ends your words of wisdom from an unofficial Costco consultant.  By chance you make an unexpected journey to the mecca of bulk shopping, you might want to print out his blog post and carry it with you at all times.  Better safe than sorry, right?

The Ladybug and the Skunk

BonBon friends, let me introduce you to Gus.  Wait.  Scratch that and rewind.  Let’s start over and bring some formality to this story.  May I present, ladies and gentlemen, Ladybug Gus, Pumpkin Gus, Alien Gus and Tiger Gus.

This costume-tolerant woman’s best friend is my partner in crime come Halloween.  Just look at him.  Doesn’t he ooze intimidation?!  My older brother thinks that, by dressing Gus up in various Halloween costumes, I’m emasculating our family dog.  I assure you, dear brother and other naysayers, Gus likes his annual dress up day.  Can’t you see it in his face?  He’s worn all of these costumes in years past but his favorite is the ladybug getup….and rightly so.  A few years ago, while in full ladybug attire, Gus had a Halloween showdown with one of those foul-odored, four-legged, black and white striped creatures.  At that moment, Gus learned that the ladybug costume holds magical powers to prevent skunk spray.

I saw the whole ordeal go down.  Gus, the ladybug, was tied up in front of the house.  It was still early for trick-or-treaters, so he was practicing his Halloween game face.  I happened to be standing nearby, witnessing Gus in all his costume glory, when a skunk waddled directly up to my dear ladybug.  I was frozen and speechless.  All of a sudden, the skunk and the ladybug were face to face.  Skunk themed thoughts were blasting through my head.  Great!  This skunk is going to ruin our Halloween!  Gus is going to spend the evening getting a canned tomato stink-reduction bath and our glorious Halloween candy is going to have a coat of skunk odor. As it turned out, my suspicions were wrong.

You’ve heard of the miracle of Christmas, right?  Well, what occurred on this night was the miracle of Halloween.  The skunk and the ladybug had a silent-only-to-human-ears conversation.  Then the skunk waddled away…..without spraying anyone!  Although the conversation was muted to my kind, I have a suspicion of what transpired….

Skunk: Get ready to be skunked, dog.
Gus: Hi! I’m Gus.  I’m a dog but, today, I’m pretending to be a ladybug.
Skunk: Don’t care. Get ready, get set…..
Gus: You have a great costume.  Are you a dog under the skunk outfit?
Skunk: I AM a skunk.
Gus: Riiiiiiight.  And I’m a “ladybug.”
Skunk: You know what?  I’m going to take pity on you today.  Your owner over there deserves to be skunked just for dressing you up like this.  I’ll get her on a later date, when she least expects it. You, Ladybug Dog, can consider yourself lucky.  Today, I have opted out of spraying you.  So long.
Gus: What a weird dog.

After the skunk made his way across the street, Gus looked back at me with slight confusion.  I was still standing there in utter shock.  I hurriedly brought my little ladybug back inside the skunk-free safety of our house.  Sweet relief!  No canned tomato bath!  The candy was still edible!  Halloween was saved!

I, on the other hand, am still awaiting my impending revenge from Pepé Le Pew.  Rest assured, I’ll be sure to blog about it when the time comes.  In the meanwhile, have a happy and skunk-free Halloween!

Mobile Mayhem

In recent years, nearly everyone has become equipped with a cell phone. I’m fairly certain even newborn babies are gifted with phones upon their worldly debut. Despite the fact of this mass mobile possession, I’ve recently experienced a couple circumstances upon which complete strangers have requested to borrow my phone. I must somehow have a face that invites cell phone usage. Come hither, my children, my phone is your phone. Seeing as my cell phone rivals Dakota Fanning in age, I’m still slightly shocked that anyone would dare to be seen in public with my antiquated source of communication. They obviously must have been desperate but why assume when I can let you judge for yourself?! Here’s what went down…….

Cell Phone Request #1

This occurred, following work, while I was waiting on the arrival of my commuter bus. I was sitting on a bench next to a very pregnant woman. My nose was buried in a book when, all of a sudden, a questionable character stood before me and the mama-to-be, and asked to use one of our phones. My pregnant friend quickly declined. I thought for a moment. Be a good samaritan, Sara. Let the stranger use your phone. I agreed to let the dude use my phone. I dialed the number for him, just to be sure he wasn’t ringing up another universe, and handed over the phone. I imagined his call would go something like the following: “Hey, Bobby, I’m stuck at the bus station. I’m borrowing some lady’s phone. Come pick me up. OK. Thanks. Bye.” The call didn’t proceed exactly as I imagined. Actually, it didn’t happen anything like that at all. He spent the entire one minute and 39 seconds screaming into the phone. Yes, he asked to borrow my cell phone and proceeded to get into a verbal fight. My fellow commuters watched as he paced back and forth, swearing loudly into my dear little phone. I sat there, with my head cocked to the side like a confused puppy, and pondered the bizarre circumstance.

After realizing that maybe I should have kept my phone to myself, I looked blankly over to the pregnant lady. She decided to practice the mothering lessons a little prematurely and, suddenly, she was lecturing me. “I can’t believe you let him use your phone. Do you know that whoever he just called has your number now? He could have been calling a foreign country for all you know! Or he could have run off with your phone! He could have all your contact numbers and could ruin you. You’re too nice. You should have said no. You’re crazy. You’ll need to disinfect your phone now.”

I guess she was right, in certain ways, but my mind was processing things a little differently. I wasn’t worried about drug lords in foreign countries having my unimportant Vermont-based cell phone number. I was only mildly concerned about inheriting swine flu a la cell phone. I only had one primary thought running through my head. If this guy runs off with my phone, what will I use for an alarm clock? Alas, as it turns out, the cell phone stranger returned my phone and jumped on his bus.

Cell Phone Request #2

You’d think I would have learned my lesson about lending out my phone. Nope! Not the case. I was tested again a few days later. The second request happened while I waited for a train at Boston’s South Station. My train was scheduled to depart in 24 minutes and I was patiently waiting for my boarding announcement. The next thing I knew, a desperate-looking female 20-something approached me. She was scheduled to travel on my train and was feeling cut off at the knees because she had accidentally misplaced her cell phone in her friend’s car. Now, let’s see if I can get this who story straight. First, she wanted to call her fiancé. He was then supposed to call her roommate. Said roommate would then call the guy who drove her to the train station. He would then return with the missing cell phone and balloons and cake would fall from the sky in celebration. Or something like that. I thought about her request. Too complicated! Where’s my pregnant lady friend to lecture me, now? Too late. I had already agreed and the phone tree was set into action with my phone in the top-tier.

I suddenly found myself shuffling out pens, paper and my Vermont digits so this gal could get her phone back. Meanwhile, my train was departing in 11 minutes and my new acquaintance was waiting on bated breath for her driver friend to call my phone so they could reunite in the train station before our shared train was ready to set sail. I told myself that I would wait no more than 5 minutes until the train was scheduled to depart. I wanted to be a hospitable citizen but I wasn’t going to sacrifice my travel plans in an attempt to be gracious.

Ring, ring. Finally! The driver with the missing cell phone called my phone at last. Unfortunately I was already in transit and about 15 minutes outside of Boston, sitting warmly in the cafe car. Missing cell phone girl, on the other hand, was sitting abandoned at the train station. Despite my attempts to help, she wasn’t too psyched when my cell phone and I jointly deserted her. Without. Her. Cell. Phone. She decided not to thank me for my failed attempt to help. I’m not holding out hope for a wedding invite.

I’m still undecided as to what I’ll do if a future stranger should ask to borrow my phone. On the one hand, I know how to share. Conversely, I’m not supposed to talk with strangers. These kindergarten lessons conflict with each other in the case of mobile mayhem. One decision is certain. If I vote to help abandoned cell phone individuals, in the future, I’ll be sure to interview them first. You want to use my phone? OK, first you have to pass my test. First question. Are you going to make a scene by swearing and screaming into my innocent little phone? No? Good answer. Second question. Are you going to say thank you? Yes? Even if your fiancé, roommate and taxi driver friend don’t come to your rescue? OK. Here you go. Please just don’t dial an alternate universe.

Too many questions. Maybe I’ll just retire the Dakota Fanning cell phone, get a real alarm clock and remember the choice words of the pregnant lady: You’re crazy!