After nine very interesting years in California, I have
moved back to Connecticut. As much as I loved the time I spend on the West
Coast, and the incredible people I met over the years, I realized it was time
to put my grown-up pants on and accept a real job, using the skills I went to
college for. It was a hard decision, but at the end of the day I realized I was
not destined to work at a gym my entire life. If I ever find myself with enough
patience and free time to write more than a few pages for a blog post, I’ll
write a book about my experience working at a “Wellness Center”. Until then, my
faithful readers will have to get me drunk to hear the stories first hand.
I’ve been back in Connecticut a short time, but the
differences are already staggering and significant. I wrote a post a while back
about the Farmers Markets, complaining that they are practically non-existent
in CT. It seems that this is no longer the case. While they are substantially
smaller than the ones I frequented back West, they are indeed a weekly “thing”
here. My first day back I wandered to one down the street and stocked up on my
local produce. I ran home and whipped up a big salad, only to find the
vegetables tasted like dirt. I scrubbed the crap out of them and they still
tasted like dirt. I now buy my produce at Whole Foods; specifically the “Grown
in California” crops.
Another big observation is the lack of liquor availability
and the staggering prices at the tiny stores that bare the same name. For those
of you who know me well, (I mean, why else would you be reading this crap if
you didn’t know me well, right?), I am big on the whole consuming alcohol and
partying thing. After the Farmer’s Market disappointment I decided to take a
drive around the area to get my bearings. I found that the drugstore “CVS” has
popped up on every corner, much like Starbucks have in most other regions of
the country. I was stoked. I pulled over and parked at the first CVS I came
across and ran in eager to stock up on their version of 2-buck-Chuck and
discounted Tequila. I wandered around for a bit and couldn’t find the alcohol
section, so I asked a clerk. She looked at me like I was the token ‘crack-head
patron’ and told me, in a rather snarky tone I might add, “We don’t sell
Alcohol”. So, I got in my car and drove a block down where I found another CVS;
they also were a dry store. Turns out, they don’t sell alcohol at the
drugstores here, but don’t worry, they still sell Cigarettes. (Insert sarcastic
tone here) Fuckers.
Want to earn a ton of money? Open a cheap Beer and Liquor
store within walking distance of my house. I will single handedly make you a
millionaire.
I know it seems like everything on the East Coast is crappy,
but rest assured not everything is completely different than the good ol’ West
Coast. The men are the exact same breed of stupid. My first night of
bar-hopping, and by bar-hopping I mean driving to one bar and finding one
patron sitting at the end of the bar talking to himself therefore driving to
another bar, I was fortunate enough to reconnect with some old friends from
High School. It was great seeing them and learning what they’d been up to the
last nine years. As the night progressed, a guy I’d met that night with zero
connection to my High School days began hitting on me. After god knows how many
shots (thankfully my best friend from High School was driving my sloppy ass
home) I decided he was cute. After some embarrassingly shameless flirting I
overheard someone say something to him about his girlfriend. Needless to say, I
stopped flirting. Sometime between the car ride home and the next day texting I
discovered that the guy my friend was talking to all night, the guy calling her
“fucking hot” and “sexy bitch” (he was what we call “a romantic”) ALSO had a girlfriend.
I mean, at least they weren’t married. I mistakenly hit on a married man in
Monterey (thankfully NOTHING happened with that creep), but that’s a whole
other blog post. Moral of the story: Douchebags grow on both coasts. BUT don’t
worry, there are also some amazingly sweet guys and I've been lucky enough to
have reconnected with a few of those out here too.
So to sum up: The produce taste like dirt, there is a
serious lack of alcohol and the guys are cheating bastards. It’s good to be
back East J
