Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: humor

  • The Unspoken Rules of Grocery Store Etiquette (As Told By My Inner Monologue)

    The Unspoken Rules of Grocery Store Etiquette (As Told By My Inner Monologue)




    The Unspoken Rules of Grocery Store Etiquette (As Told By My Inner Monologue)


    The Cart Conundrum: A Lesson in Aisle Awareness

    The other day, I found myself performing Olympic-level mental gymnastics in the middle of the produce aisle. Why? Because a fellow shopper had abandoned their cart smack-dab in the middle of the aisle, creating a Bermuda Triangle of grocery carts where dreams of fresh cilantro went to die.

    My inner monologue went something like this:

    • “Do I awkwardly maneuver around it?
    • Do I risk a passive-aggressive sigh loud enough to alert them to their cartly transgression?
    • Or do I just accept defeat, grab my cilantro from the less-desirable back row, and resign myself to a life of subpar guacamole? (The horror!)”

    We’ve all been there, right? Navigating the grocery store can feel like a social experiment in unspoken rules and passive-aggressive cart maneuvers. So, in the interest of public service (and my own sanity), I present to you a guide to the unspoken rules of grocery store etiquette – as dictated by the increasingly dramatic voice inside my head.

    Lane Dilemma: Decoding the Checkout Lane Tango

    Ah, the checkout lane. A place of both hope (freedom is so close!) and utter dread (did that guy seriously just cut the line?). Here’s a universal truth: the express lane is a mystical realm governed by its own set of laws, often defying logic and human decency.

    Inner Monologue: “Okay, 12 items or less… he looks like he has at least 15 things in that basket. Should I say something? Nah, I don’t want to be *that* person. But seriously, where did he even GET a cantaloupe this time of year? Is that even ALLOWED in the express lane?”

    Let’s be real, we’ve all pushed the limits of the express lane at some point. But let’s try to operate with a general sense of awareness, shall we?

    Sample Savvy: The Art of Enjoying Freebies Without Being *That* Person

    Listen, I love a good free sample as much as the next person. But there’s an art to partaking in these bite-sized delights without morphing into a ravenous monster who single-handedly depletes the mini-quiche supply.

    Inner Monologue: “Okay, one mini quiche is acceptable. Two is pushing it. But they’re just so darn delicious! Just act natural. Pretend you’re deeply engrossed in the nutritional label. Wait, is that… another person eyeing the quiche? ABORT MISSION! Act casual, move along.”

    Remember, folks, sample with grace, not greed. And for goodness sake, don’t even THINK about hovering around the poor employee like a vulture circling its prey.

  • The Time I Tried to Live Like a Minimalist (and Failed Spectacularly)

    The Time I Tried to Live Like a Minimalist (and Failed Spectacularly)




    The Time I Tried to Live Like a Minimalist (and Failed Spectacularly)


    The Great Decluttering Disaster of 2023

    It all started, as these things often do, with an Instagram rabbit hole. One minute I was admiring a travel blogger’s envy-inducing feed, filled with pristine beaches and minimalist bungalows, the next I was knee-deep in articles about capsule wardrobes and the life-changing magic of tidying up. “I could do that,” I thought, gazing around my apartment that more closely resembled a hoarder’s paradise than a serene sanctuary.

    Armed with nothing but good intentions (and maybe a touch of delusion), I embarked on my minimalist journey. What could possibly go wrong?

    The Case of the Missing Spatula (and Other Kitchen Nightmares)

    My first target? The kitchen. I ruthlessly purged expired spices, donated mismatched mugs I’d been inexplicably hoarding, and even parted ways with my beloved garlic press (minimalists apparently don’t believe in single-use gadgets). The result? A beautifully organized, sparkling clean kitchen… that was missing a spatula.

    You see, in my zeal to embrace minimalism, I’d mistakenly thrown out my only spatula, mistaking it for a superfluous utensil. I mean, who needs a spatula when you have a wooden spoon, right? (Spoiler alert: everyone). The next morning, as I desperately tried to flip my morning omelet with a fork, I realized the error of my ways.

  • The Great Phone Mishap: Why I Can’t Be Trusted with Autocorrect Anymore

    The Great Phone Mishap: Why I Can’t Be Trusted with Autocorrect Anymore



    We’ve all been there. You’re firing off a text, fingers flying across the keyboard, feeling like a digital Mozart composing a symphony of words. Then, you hit send without a second glance, only to be blindsided by the most embarrassing autocorrect blunder known to mankind.

    The Day Autocorrect Nearly Ruined My Life

    It was a typical Tuesday, or so I thought. I was texting my friend, Sarah, about meeting for our weekly pottery class. “Can’t wait for pottery tonight! I’m dying to try that new glaze, it looks fire,” I typed, feeling super hip with my slang.

    A second later, Sarah responded, “Wait, what’s wrong with your grandma?!”

    Confused, I scrolled up. There, in all its autocorrected glory, was my message: “Can’t wait for pottery tonight! I’m dying to try that new glaze, it looks dire.”

    Dire? DIRE?! My phone, in its infinite wisdom, had decided that “fire” (meaning awesome, obviously) was far too pedestrian. Instead, it opted for “dire,” a word that conjured images of my poor grandmother on her deathbed (she’s fine, by the way, thankfully not dire at all).

    After I sheepishly explained the situation to Sarah (who was, thankfully, laughing hysterically by then), I vowed to be more careful. But, alas, the autocorrect gods had other plans for me.

    The Case of the Mistaken Identity (and My Very Confused Boss)

    A few weeks later, I found myself in another autocorrect-induced predicament. I was emailing my boss about an upcoming project, feeling very professional and on top of things. “Just wanted to update you on the presentation. I’m putting the finishing touches on it now and will send it over shoon!” I wrote, eager to demonstrate my efficiency.

    Except, it wasn’t “shoon” I intended to type. Oh no, it was “soon.” But my phone, in its never-ending quest to spice up my vocabulary, decided that “shoon” was a perfectly acceptable (and professional, apparently) word.

    My boss, being the wonderful and understanding human he is, simply replied, “Shoon? Is that some new project management term I’m not aware of? 😉”

  • That Time I Accidentally Joined a Clown Convention

    That Time I Accidentally Joined a Clown Convention



    The Wrong Turn to Clown Town

    We’ve all been there. You’re late, rushing, and blindly follow your GPS’s instructions. “Turn left in 50 feet… 25 feet… now!” And BAM! You’re not at your quiet, little yoga retreat, but staring down a hallway filled with… clowns.

    That’s right, folks. Yours truly, a firm believer in minimalist fashion and quiet contemplation, somehow ended up at the annual “Clowning Around for Joy” convention. The air was thick with the scent of popcorn, face paint, and something vaguely reminiscent of a petting zoo (don’t ask).

    something about the sheer absurdity of the situation, the sheer volume of rainbow wigs and oversized shoes, rooted me to the spot. I mean, what were the chances?

    Before I could make my escape, a friendly clown with a purple wig and a nose that lit up like a Christmas tree approached me. “Well, hello there, friend! You look like you could use a balloon animal! Giraffe? Elephant? How about a unicycle-riding poodle?”

    I mumbled something about not wanting to take away from a paying customer (was that even a thing here?). He just laughed, a booming, infectious sound, and said, “Nonsense! Laughter is free, my friend. And trust me, we’ve got plenty to go around!”

    Lessons from a Clown: Finding Joy in the Unexpected

    I ended up spending the next hour being thoroughly entertained. I watched a juggling workshop (impressive!), learned the art of balloon twisting (less impressive), and even got a crash course in applying clown makeup (let’s just say I won’t be quitting my day job).

    But the most valuable lesson I learned that day wasn’t about juggling chainsaws or fitting into a tiny car. It was about embracing the unexpected, finding joy in the absurd, and remembering not to take ourselves too seriously.