Vending Machine Anxiety

I visited the vending machine this past Friday, part of my new health kick where I bring my lunch to work everyday.... riiight. Anyways, I stood in front of the machine trying to decide which of the goodies I was going to choose, and wondering as I often did, why on earth the glass was so damn thick. I felt like I was in the Tower of London looking at the Crown Jewels. The only difference was that I couldn't expect to get a billion dollar necklace by depositing some change into a coin slot. Let's be realistic here. Bags of chips, Grandmother's cookies and some Wrigley's gum... Bulletproof glass? A little over the top.

At any rate, finally after a few minutes, I make my decision, which is the same decision I make every time I go to a vending machine, Cheetos. I deposit my 80 cents and carefully punch in the letter number sequence.

I say carefully because there was an incident about a year or so ago, in which there was a letter-number combo slip-up and I ended up with a package of those stale cracker sandwich things that no one in their right mind would ever voluntarily choose. With only 5 cents remaining, I had no choice but to go hungry. I vowed from that point onwards I would never find myself in that predicament ever again. The one thing I have no control over however, is what happens after I make my selection.

Am I the only one who stands there staring hard at those metal coily things willing them to relinquish from its death grip, my meal in a bag? I do. I stare. I stare hard. Anxiety builds up as I think about the havoc I plan to wreak on this demon machine if it doesn't give me my f&%king Cheetos. And anxious I remain until that final moment when I see my Cheetos drop, like a gift from the heavens.

Then just like that, I feel relaxed, elated, giddy even. It is a glorious feeling indeed, like you just dodged a bullet. I reach down, contort my hand awkwardly and retrieve my reward.

As wonderful as this victory is, I think next week I'll definitely be bringing my lunch.

Office Assistant

Why the heck does the Microsoft Office paper clip assistant look so skeevy? It seems like the only two default options are that pervy paper clip and a cute innocent puppy. And what does a puppy know?

But seriously, have you ever looked at that paper clip, with his slimy grin and large eyelids, just sitting at the bottom corner of your document pretending to be looking at your work. And you know as soon as you start typing he shifts his easily shiftable eyes to leer at you. Like a guy in a bar... after you've already told him that you're fine and don't want a drink he moves off into a corner and watches... just waiting for his big break, when you'll make some false move, say, you stumble or something there he is, "Hey, are you okay? Do you need another drink?" No I don't want a drink, I told you that when you first asked me.

Or in the paper clip's case, "It looks like you're writing a letter! Would you like help?" No I don't need your help writing my letter.

Maybe if you were taller, better looking and not so sketchy I'd gladly accept your help, but as it stands, not a chance. You make me uncomfortable. I didn't go through damn near 20 years of schooling only to have someone like YOU offer to help me write a letter. I'd like to think I could do better. Try that girl over there. She looks like she'd be willing to let any old random person help her with her letter writing.

At this point I usually decide I've had enough and promptly click on "hide assistant". And what does this pesky paper clip do? Winks at me. Winks! As if to say, "Alright sweet thang, but you'll be back. They always come back."

Oh I'll be back alright... only next time I'm picking the puppy.

The Waiting Game

So why is it that whenever you're waiting for a friend in a public place, everyone starts to look like that person. Suddenly you feel like you're trapped in a Twilight Zone episode where everyone's wearing different clothes, but the faces are all the same.

And we all know what our friends look like. Its not like on a daily basis, as we go about our normal life's activities, we're constantly stopping ourselves from mistakenly calling out to strangers in the street. And yet, as we sit and wait, our insecurites get the better of us. Our minds begin to play tricks on us.

We sit, slowly sipping our coffees or teas, not too fast though, because if we finish then we'll have nothing to do whilst we wait... This is when we start to think, "Why didn't I bring something to read?" So inevitably what do we do? We snatch up a menu, and we read that menu like its the most fascinating piece of literature we've ever come across. "Coffee beans picked in South American and roasted in Turkey... I'll be damned."

Five minutes late. She's FIVE minutes late. That's it, next time I'm going to arrive late. She can wait for me and drink tea and exchange awkward smiles with the people sitting at the table directly across from her, who are for some reason are both positioned so that they are facing me instead of eachother... Are social norms dead?

Then, just as I'm contemplating getting up and leaving, I look up through the crowd and see my friend... Finally!

Wait... Why is she a man?

Damnit.

Smallville - My Latest Guilty Pleasure

During my March trip to LA, as my mother and I were in the deeply engrossed in a cheesy Lifetime original movie, the television screen suddenly went fuzzy. We sat staring at nothingness for a while, hoping that when the glitch was fixed, we wouldn't have missed too much. After ten minutes of awkwardly staring ahead in anticipation, it finally occured to us that perhaps, this was no glitch. We decided to give it a couple of hours. Then we decided to wait till the morning. And finally when it was clear our cable was not going to come back on its own, we called in the master, my father. And even he, the ultimate handyman, was unable to bring back our cable. Please note that I use the word "our" losely because... well... for the last ten years, yes ten - we moved into this house in 1998 - The Franklin Family had been gladly reaping the benefits of the cable that had come complimentary with the purchase of our home.

I know what you're thinking, and I'm not proud, but damnit I'm not ashamed either. Truth be told, my parents are so old fashioned and cheap that had we not gotten cable through these means, we would never have gotten it at all and my brother and I would have remained "those kids" in school. You know the kids... they're Amish. We didn't get three way calling or call waiting till the late 90's. My friends would call me and say, "hey, I tried to call earlier, but your phone was off the hook." Yeah... off the hook... that's it.

Thinking all of these years of cable had spoiled my parents, I was expecting the situation to be rectified upon my return in May. Sadly, it was not and though I tried, I mean really tried to enjoy all free TV had to offer, it really couldn't measure up and so I turned to our movie collection. I watched everything on the shelf, "Muppets Take Manhattan", "House Party", and a few others not worth mentioning. I took one last look at my parents' sad collection and then as if it was calling me, my eyes were drawn back to the boxset I'd been avoiding, "Smallville" - The complete first season, 23 episodes. I really thought my days of WB sitcoms had ended with Dawson's Creek. At least I was hoping they had.

God, has it really come to this, I thought. It had. I popped in the first disc... Game Over.

Smallville is nothing short of genius. Some of the facts are skewed, characters meeting before they really met, serious discrepancies in age (ie. the age difference between Clark and Lex), that type of thing, but as I watch the story play out, this "prequel" to Superman the Movies, I am transported back to the family room of our old house, where my brother and I would watch Superman I, II and IV on VHS... Back when we believed that Christopher Reeves was, and would always be, the only Superman.

I am now coming to the end of Season II where Superman's true identity is starting to unfold. Each episode of Smallville leaves me with chills. I suppose because I am armed with the knowledge of how it all plays out in the end, the foreshadowing is both thrilling and saddening at the same time. The bond between Lex Luthor and Clark Kent appears impenetrable and with each passing episode I keep hoping they remain friends. I know... silly...

Spoke to my brother today on the phone. As he's seen every episode, he was able to let me in on things to come. Told me that by season seven Lex and Clark will finally sever ties and become mortal enemies.

"Really," I asked shocked/sad.
"What do you mean 'really'? Don't you know the story of Superman??" he asked. "Not like I'm giving away a surprise ending."

This was very true. As much as I want to see Lex and Clark join forces and rule the world together, I knew that in the end, they were just going to travel back in time to the 80's where Lex will spend sequel after sequel, trying to rid the earth "once and for all" of Superman, who in case you couldn't tell without the glasses, was actually his old friend Clark Kent.