I have seen my future, and it involves petty theft

Sunday, December 17, 2006

I recently realized that my march into "elderly woman who steals the packets of sweetener from restaurants" has begun in earnest.

It started with the move to Canada. The first time I ordered a coffee and said "Two Splenda"...I was rebutted with "We only have Sugar Twin."

Oh?. All right. Why not. It comes in a yellow package LIKE Splenda. Until I had to scrape it off of my tongue with a knife. UGH. That shit is nasty.

So, I did what any woman would do. I began carrying a little plastic baggie of Splenda in my purse. Cause - you know - I want my coffee, my elixir of life, my ichor ,to be perfect.

The next step into my descent came with my realization that the guy at school was charging me a buck fifty for a REGULAR tea bag. And Hot water. Dude. Seriously? It's a Red Rose tea bag. You're gonna charge me a buck fifty? I could buy 150 of those for a buck fifty.

I added a baggie of tea bags into the purse.

Now, Splenda is expensive here, much more so than the states, which is why it is most likely not available on every counter, everywhere. BUT, when we went to Burlington last week, there it was - sitting on the table in the restaurants, and the coffee houses. So I did what every "future crotchety old woman" would do.

I re-filled my plastic baggie of Splenda. I was like a veritable Splenda Squirrel, hording packets for the "lean winter months".

But honestly, it wasn't until the day I pulled out the baggie in front of a new acquaintance that I recognized the path I was treading. As her eyes scanned down to the beaten plastic bag of stolen Splenda packets, I felt as if I needed to justify why I had a bag of sweetener and tea bags in my purse. I might as well have been wearing the aluminum hat to deflect the "brain rays" being beamed into my head and talking about my hatred for the industrial complex ala Teddy K.

Soon, I will become the crazy lady you hope to get trapped in the elevator with - cause I will have the contents of the five course meal secreted about my person, along with a propane stove and the means to re-route the electrical system ala McGuyver.

But only if I like you - otherwise I have no compunction about eating you "Alive" style. I'll have the propane stove after all.


And thank you all for all your love and support - I'm feeling better. In fact, look. Can you see the spark coming back?

25 Baleful Regards:

Mignon said...

I think we're all old and young at heart. Maybe they're the same thing...

(Are you wearing a habit in that last pic? That's not the spark of Jesus is it?)

Mignon said...

Oh! I can comment again! Wheee

Anonymous said...

Damn, Mignon beat me to it. I thought you were wearing a Mennonite cap and what with your fresh, glowing complexion, one can only wonder.

SUEB0B said...

Stuff like this is why my "purse" looks like a carryon bag and weighs 40 lbs.

Anonymous said...

My dad grew up in Amish country, and according to him, Mennonite girls were easy. You could spot them in the cars parked off the side of the road, getting their coverings back in place before the trip back home.

So maybe a Mennonite glow is a little more sexy than Jesus-y...

I'm happy to see your happy face, Dawn.

Anonymous said...

It happens to us all eventually, so don't let it get to you. I have a friend who carries a can of tomato soup in her purse!
How come men become more distiguished with age while women become "crazy old ladies"?

Kids Furniture Crazy

Anonymous said...

When you start to hoarde dinner rolls in your purse, then we'll stage an intervention.

I'm glad to see your face. You have such nicely shaped eyebrows.

Diana said...

I see a slight smirk in there as well...
I won't consider you a 'crazy old lady' till you carry every prescription ever known to man in your purse (also in a plastic baggie) next to your Splenda baggie.

Mitzi Green said...

well, yes, i see the spark, but i fear if i were to invite you to my house, you'd leave with 6 rolls of my target toilet paper tucked into your "purse." (by the way, the jig is up--i know american tourister doesn't make purses.)

just don't go tucking the same kleenex into your pocket umpteen thousand times or we're putting you in the old folks' home.

Anonymous said...

"Seriously? It's a Red Rose tea bag. You're gonna charge me a buck fifty? I could buy 150 of those for a buck fifty." >> this made me laugh. Mitzi beat me to it on teh kleenexx up the sleeve but yeah, you're on a slippery slope, my friend.

glad you're back and feeling better.

Anonymous said...

If it makes you feel any better, my roommate in college did that with Equal. She not only lived in the States, she was also 18 years old.

You may not be old - just crazy.

Girlplustwo said...

it's nunnery hot.

i can send you some splenda from the states, sister...no problem.

Beth said...

I love your blog. I'm so glad you're back, looking sparkly or Mennonite or whatever.

Great post.

Moofo said...

I guess now you understand why I told you our contry sucks and why we're getting scammed on so many things...

BTW, there is a TacoBell in Pointe-Claire, the first one in the province of Quebec.....

Crystal Light is also awfully cheaper across the border, and that is why I buy so much when I go there.

Moofo said...

God, I'm awful with Typos.

ephelba said...

Altoids tins: They keep the packets and bags from getting wonky.

Anonymous said...

Well, at least you aren't like my great aunt. She stole the whole plastic thing that they keep the packets in. When the contents were gone she'd steal a whole new one. I wonder what happend to all those containers...

I followed this blog from TWC (I'm totally addicted). It's good to 'meet' you.

Yes, I see a spark. May it keep you warm and safe.

Anonymous said...

Ha! My Grams used to have one of those purses that had EVERYTHING in it. I loved that purse. There was safety and snacks in that purse. And gum...oh lordy, lots of gum!

New to your site and am really enjoying it. Thanks for sharing your life.

Anonymous said...

Dudes, that's one of her fabulous headbands. I know Dawn's got plenty of habits, but a nun's habit ain't one of them.

Thought of you this past weekend. Kyle and I both desperately needed some Advil LiquiGels.

Debbie said...

I became an old lady in my twenties. I see nothing wrong with it.

also, you're SMOKIN' for an old lady. sheesh.

Anonymous said...

I would be highly embarrassed if anyone, acquaintance or close friend alike, saw the real and true and apparently endless, contents of my purse. And I commend you! for bringing your own tea bags. Good (not overly priced) tea is hard to find.
(Also: so glad! you are feeling better. Hang in there.) : )

Aurelya said...

Long time reader, first time poster.... I found it very amusing that just after I put away the extra splendia packets I snagged from the gas station an hour ago, I read your post on something very similar! I don't put the packets in my purse, but I collect them in my desk at work just in case and for my coffee. I also always ask for crackers anytime I order soup or a salad at a restauraunt, and then put said crackers in my desk drawer. I never eat them and have a drawer full now. Someday, I'm going on a cracker binge! I'm a dork.

Anonymous said...

I love that photo of you. You have just a hint of a smirk around your mouth, just the way it should be!

E. said...

I'm right there with you, honey. My purse always has a supply of hand lotion, lip balm, and all the normal stuff, plus antibacterial ointment, nail clippers and nail file, plenty of band aids (still relatively normal, I think), plus emergency chocolate, a small bag of almonds to keep me from going postal in extreme hunger situations, tea bags (b/c I'm a picky motherfucker and don't want to drink your damn Lipton, restaurants and second-rate cafes), a small jar of honey of the type swank hotels give you (b/c I like honey in my tea and sometimes you can't get it), and of course, the most important things: a small toothbrush, a tiny tube of toothpaste, and a little box o' floss.

Anonymous said...

I think you're OK as long as you don't start reusing tissues like my mom. Then I may need to enter you in a 12-step program.

You look mahvelous.

 
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