Top 100 Ways You Know You Live In NOVA: No. 98

98. You hit a new low of pretentiousness where an ice cream shop has the gall to not carry sprinkles because "the ice cream tastes too good for sprinkles."

News flash, scooper party-pooper. (Yes, I thought that one up on my own.)

1. Desiring sprinkles has nothing to do with the flavor of the ice cream. It's a texture thing. Obviously, you've never heard of those ice cream aficionados known as chunk spelunkers. (That's a Ben & Jerry's term. Can't take the credit for that one.) Nor do you seem to take them seriously. I'm almost offended.

2. Your ice cream wasn't that good. Not even close.

Oh well. Live, learn, and check that place off the list. Should've gone across the street. ;)

(Sorry for the lack of blogging lately. Work's been a bear. My old boss retired Friday and my new one starts a week from Wednesday, so it's been a bit nuts. I didn't get out of bed until 3 p.m. yesterday, which roughly translates to DEFCON 2 as far as my health prognosis goes. Feeling much better today though. Even with the disappointing ice cream cone. :)

Top 100 Ways You Know You Live In NOVA: No. 99

99. After months of trial and error, you finally figure out how to operate the Metro's farecard machines and manage to pass your knowledge on to at least one desperate tourist every trip.

I am quite proud of this accomplishment. Do you see that machine?! It is just as confusing as it looks, especially if you're just buying a farecard and not a pass. (Oh yes, there is a difference!) Drew did a project in school where they redesigned the machine's interface to make it more user friendly, but I guess no one got the memo. Too busy workin' on the escalators, I suppose!

Top 100 Ways You Know You Live In NOVA: No. 100

100. The Harris Teeter Dinner Shoppers

Last night at about 8 p.m., I found myself in a long line at Harris Teeter. And no one was buying food.

I don’t like grocery shopping at night, and after the “Frozen Pizza Sale Incident” I swore I wouldn’t do it again, but when I discovered c. 4 p.m. yesterday that this week is “Super Double Coupon Week” at our good ol’ H.T., I knew my resolution would be short-lived. Because it’s not every week that you can get four boxes of Cheerios and a half gallon of ‘fancy’ milk (Smart Balance) for a cool five bucks. (This household keeps General Mills in business. You have no idea.)

So after dinner I set off, leaving Mr. C to his work homework, in search of cheap breakfast food. Our H.T. is a ‘city’ grocery store – small, with an elevator to an even smaller second floor – but it’s nice because it’s in a hip neighborhood. And here is something I learned last night about hip people:

They don’t cook.

They eat rotisserie chicken and premade sushi and frozen organic meals and laundry detergent. (Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get the idea.) No one was buying actual food!

I know I shouldn’t judge a person by their grocery cart – after all, mine screamed “Mother of a Five Year-Old!” which technically is true if you count Nora – and H.T. is probably not the best spot to do your ‘major’ grocery shopping at anyway, but I am always such a snoop in these situations. Why did that grumpy old man just cut me off with his detergent and frozen pizza? (The frozen pizzas again!) What's the rush? Is frat boy going to eat that entire chicken? Who actually eats pork rinds and how are they still alive?

Am I the only crazy person like this? Do you like snooping in other people’s shopping carts?