So I was coming home from a long day at my internship wherein I got really caught up in A Thing and didn’t really eat lunch.  Well I did eat one of those KIND bars – the one I keep in my bag for an emergency – but that’s an EMERGENCY TIDE-OVER BAR, not like a meal replacement bar. Woman cannot live on bar alone, is what I’m saying.

So I’m coming home and I’m STARVING and also it was warm when I left that morning but now it’s so cold I’m SHAKING on the corner waiting for the lights to change?  I need to get my cold, hungry ass home BUT –

I know we’re out of lemons.  I recently discovered making (sort of) (close enough) Pimm’s cocktails in Mason jars (SIDEBAR: would ya’ll be interested in recipes for my Mason jar cocktails? I think I’m gonna
start sharing my wisdom here!). And it’s been a crazy week and I really REALLY want a drink and I’m kind of obsessed with these Pimm’s since the weather warmed up and also they pair really well with bitter Parmesan cheese if that makes any sense. I’m very specific in my food cravings.  I never want just the one thing, I need him and his perfect pairing.  I think this began in high school, when I discovered that potato chips were the perfect “spoon” for slightly melty ice cream.

Speaking of perfect pairing, let’s get the fuck back to my story: I’m cold and hungry and the trains are taking FOREVER to come.  I finally get on my last train, the G Train and there is this ADORABLE couple who get on at the Bergen Street stop.  Okay? They’ve got three bags from Trader Joe’s and they sit across the aisle from one another and talk and then they lock pinkies. THEY LOCK PINKIES! And just sort of sigh contentedly like they’re charging each other’s energy through their pinky-contact.  Is that not adorable?!? Okay well how about this: so one guy looks like a DEAD RINGER for David Tennant and the other one has this Tintin red-hair blue-sweater thing going on, and they kept locking pinkies in between
laughs and just sighing with happiness I was almost unable to handle it and wanted to be like (jokingly) YOU GUYS ARE TOO CUTE ON MY EMPTY STOMACH. I demand you give me one of your groceries as punishment for being so cute. (not jokingly) because I was hella hungry.

Anyhoozlebees, we FINALLY get to my stop and I’m like “whatever, I’ll duck into the little deli across from me.”  AHHHH I’M NOT telling you the name, then you’ll know where I live! But there’s a little green deli
across the street from me that sells those fancy Kettle chips really cheap and cider and cheese and ice cream and basically it is all things good.  And they had a basket of lemons RIGHT IN THE DOOR!

I did it, guys.  I went hunger-shopping.  I bought two lemons (enough for 4 cocktails), 2 bags of chips, ‘edamame hummus,” rice crackers, and goat cheese.  I couldn’t help it. I was so hungry and cold, and this
place was so warm and cozy and playing this cute 40’s Jazz music.

I dump my loot on the counter – which is mad high for a store counter actually? I always feel like a child shamefully presenting my attempt at shopping to a judge when I go to pay. I say “I shouldn’t shop while
hungry!! HA HA by the way, you have really great music in here.”

She kind of mutters, “I hate the music in here. I hate this radio.”

“Awww,” I say because I’m sorry for her both because she has no control over the music and because she doesn’t like this kicky jazz? What?

Then that song ends and the next one starts up.  It’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.”

Oh let’s go back to 2008 to a (now closed down) karaoke bar called The Mosquito Lounge to a younger ME so afraid of singing by herself that the only song she’ll sing is a little duet called “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.” With a much more talented singer! But we carried it because it’s a cute-ass song and it’s not that hard to sing.

“THIS IS MY KARAOKE JAM!” I explode. “You gotta love THIS song!”

The woman standing before me in the present gives me a blank look.

“It’s Elton John and Kiki Dee!” I plead. “Elton John! And Kiki Dee!” I’m desperate. “You gotta love this song!!”

She stares at me pitiless, watching my world crumble as I stand in the presence of the one human being immune to the charms of Elton John and Kiki Dee.

“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong!” I sign my receipt with a flourish, grab my bag o’goodies and push out the door singing along: “WOOOO-HOOO NOBODY KNOWS IT!!!…”