Things Worth Buying At Trader Joe's

I used to follow a blog which was supposed to be dedicated to good finds at Trader Joe's. However all of their reviews, for some reason, were 3 stars and under. Which isn't really what's good at all. It's more like, "Here some mediocre items and other things you should not bother buying from Trader Joe's." Not exactly helpful.

So I stopped following that blog and decided to just start a list here (in no particular order) referencing all of the things which are actually worth buying at Trader Joe's. This list is not all inclusive -- I will continue to add items whenever I discover something new that's so delectable I endorse it to the entire planet. Be sure to check back. (Updated: 12/09/12)

I'll even break it up into sections for you.

Sweet:

• Trader Joe's Clover Blossom Honey
• Trader Joe's Deep, Dark Gingerbread Cake & Baking Mix 
• Trader Joe's Pecan Pie Ice Cream
• Pilgrim Joe's Pumpkin Ice Cream
• Trader Joe's Crunch Black & White Rice Rolls
• Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Wafer Cookies.
• Trader Joe's Vanilla Meringues
• Trader Joe's Sugar Snap Peas
• Mikawaya Mochi Ice Cream 
• Trader Joe's Maple & Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal 
• Trader Joe's Speculoos 
• Trader Joe's Sugar, Chocolate & Coffee Bean Grinder 
• Trader Joe's Journey To The Center of The Cookie

 Savory:

• Trader Joe's Baked Rice Snack (Yaki Onigiri)
• Trader Joe's Edamame Hummus 
• Arabian Joe's Middle Eastern Flatbread
• Trader Joe's Multi Grain Croissants
• Trader Joe's Mini Croissants
• Trader Joe's Wasabi Peas 
• Calbee Snack Salad Snapea Crisps 
• Trader Joe's Bite Size Everything Crackers
• Trader Joe's Raisin Rosemary Crisps

Beverages:

• Trader Joe's Irish Breakfast Tea
• Trader Joe's Spicy Chai Latte
• Trader Joe's Spiced Apple Cider

Alcoholic:

• Trader Jose's Dark Lager

And there you have it.

As far as produce, you're really better off buying those things elsewhere. The asking price is high for little return. The produce I get from the modest Russian market down the street is every bit as tasty as the produce available from Trader Joe's and costs upwards of 90% less. That's a pretty steep difference. As a bonus, it's family grown, locally.

At First Sight

No, this isn't a blog about love. It's a blog about a pencil. Not like my other blog about pencils. This is different. Entirely. My bank switched credit card companies and I was sent a new card. It needed to be signed. While blue or black ink is considered "legal" in the department of legal inks, I prefer black for signing my credit cards because it matches everything. Yes. I realize how absurd and trivial that sounds. But so what? So I want my credit cards to match. Shut your face-gap.

My desk is mostly filled with art supplies. Graphite, pigment liners, charcoal, gum erasers, paint, etc., etc. I have a single ball pointe pen in my possession and it happens to be blue. So I turned to Aaron's desk. He has a ton of things residing in his drawers. Highlighters, pens, pencils, rulers, staplers, staples, protractors and compasses, and more staple removers than one human could possibly ever use at once. Seriously, if ever you need a staple removed, call my fiancee.

I figured he probably had a black ball point pen in there someplace as well. Only he didn't.

Everything but what I needed.

Instead I saw a pencil. An ancient-looking Pentech #2 pencil that had been sharpened but never used, judging by the pristine state of the eraser. I was instantly compelled to use it. Only I didn't know what to use it for. On hand I only had my pocket composition notebook and I didn't really have anything that needed writing. Yet I still really wanted to use this pencil. Like, really, really.

Okay, now what?

I sat there like this for some time, just tapping the lead against my paper perpetually. As if that would lead me to some profound statement to write down and share. I was certain that this method would work and soon produce a lifestyle-altering message for the world when I realized I was hungry and that the laundry was done. So you get this.

Happy kitty has to count for something.

Your life will never be the same after this, I know. Sorry for getting your hopes up. But last time I left the laundry sit too long I had to spend thirty minutes laying on my clothing before putting it on to press out the wrinkles with my body heat because we do not own an iron. Which is really a brilliant idea, when you pause to think about it... Stop judging me.

It wrote very nicely though. I have not used an old fashioned wooden #2 pencil since middle school. I had forgotten how smooth and thick the lines made by them are. +Pencil Appreciation+
People who didn't play pre-NGE SWG won't get that reference.

The end.

Going Postal

Pizza coupons, #$%^ yeah!

I think our mailman may have anger management issues. This seems to be a common occurrence in the mail industry. That is, after all, where the term, "going postal" originated. This may also be why I typically avoid direct contact with our postal worker whenever possible.

I'm sure he thinks of me with resentment bordering on actual disdain. Not that I have done anything to particularly wrong him, at least not personally. I just don't always get my mail out of the mailbox in a timely fashion. Maybe I was out of town, or sick, or lost my maibox key -- doesn't matter. If I do not get the mail out of the box at least every other day, the mail man begins punching our mail into the box with his fists in some rage-induced psychotic episode.

FALCON PUNCH!

At least that is the best explanation I can come up with. We do not get a lot of mail here. It's usually either Netflix or junk mail and were it not forcibly punched into the box, it would fit inside just fine. So it's not as though the mailbox is ever over-flowing and the mail must be crammed in to compensate.

I understand that being a postal worker is probably not a very fun job. It is however a fairly simple one. You drive a little truck around and put labeled mail into the corresponding box. It's like a grown up version of getting the right peg into the appropriately shaped hole. You don't even have to work on holidays! Ever! Chill out.

Dear Creepy Person

To whom it may concern,

Whoever is out there Google searching my full name in quotations to exclude all other possible results: please stop. It is creepy and it is weird. You do not want to look like an obsessive stalky stalkerton, do you? Because that is how you look right now. Nobody likes a stalker. Not even stalkers like stalkers. If your own peers find you repulsive, perhaps that should tell you something.

Blogspot keeps me informed about what search words bring traffic to my blog. Thus, I know you're out there, somewhere, being a creeper. You can't hide that. So you should just stop it.

All of my friends and family have access to this blog by default, so I know it isn't any of them relying on Google to track me down -- and strangers are unlikely to use my exact name in quotations to find this blog. They stumble in after searching for things like, "cersei lanister blond hair black eyebrows" or "hartz ultra guard." So the obvious conclusion here would be that you are someone who knows me but I do not like enough (or at all) to have linked you personally. In which case, you're twice as creepy and weird because you know I do not like you and yet, here you are reading all about my personal life like a psycho.

If that is your intent, then good job. You're a success at being a psycho!

Sincerely,
Inari Holmes

P.S. Yes, I also know you tried to Google search my full name plus the state I used to live in to find me before relying on quotations to narrow down your stalking. Congratulations on earning double creeper points.

P.P.S. I'm fine with actual strangers stumbling upon my blog through whatever means. /hi5 to people who don't know me but enjoy my writing.

Poetic Justice

We spent the weekend in San Jose. There we stayed at a friend's place and partook in various amounts of geekery; such as watching animated Batman movies and going to a Dagorhir event. If you do not know what Dagorhir is, your best bet is to click that link because I'm not really sure how to describe it to you without making you think we're a bunch of masochists.

To be honest it's like medieval boot camp. If you are not properly trained you're going to break or tear something and it will be painful. It's going to be painful anyway, so you really don't want to break something on top of the plethora of bruises you're going to be walking away with.

There, I tried my best.

While that was all good fun and entertainment, what I really want to talk to you about is our trip down there. The two hour car ride from Sacramento to San Jose. "That sounds boring to hear about, Inari," you're probably saying to yourself and under normal circumstances you'd be right. Usually it's two hours of chit chat and Queen. Not this time.

Well, it still took two hours and there was still chit chat and Queen, but there was a happening as well. A happening! So we're cruising along in the fast lane doing 80, nothing wrong with that. The guy ahead of us is also doing 80 and we're a little less than two car lengths behind him. There's really no justification for going over 80 mph unless you're trying to escape carnivorous dinosaurs or something. I mean, even if someone's dying in the backseat, that's what ambulances are there for. Driving around at 100 mph with no sirens or lights is only going to kill both of you.

Then. There is this dude in a sports car all up on our ass. Like, so close that we couldn't even see his headlights. Not our fault, Mr. Man. We cannot drive through the car ahead of us, or the car beside us for that matter. 80 should be plenty fast for the fast lane.

Aaron lets off the gas a little; not enough to cause a break screeching freak-out or anything, just enough to send the signal, "Yo, back off our ass. Man." This works for about 2.5 seconds before the guys whips out from behind us, probably without even checking, and speeds along beside us. Ironically, at this point in time, he's not quite keeping up with us... which is all the more reason why he should have been content doing 80 mph at a safe distance behind us.

He stays along side us for enough time to see, reasonably, that there was nothing we could have done. He cut-off the car beside us like a maniac to get to where he was now, and there was still a car in front of us, keeping us at an even 80. For one reason or another, the car in front of us decides to gtfo though and as soon as he does, the dude in the sports car zips in front of us and SLAMS on his breaks. We slam on our breaks so that we don't die in a fire (action movies have taught me that all cars are bombs just waiting for an impact so they can explode) and then the guy peels out at like 100 mph into the distance.

Out of principle we speed along after him a bit just to prove that we can go fast too! But then there is flashing lights. You've got to be kidding me, I think. I notice however that the flashing lights are beside us -- not behind us, and we're immediately cut-off by a cop. Who then proceeds to pull the reckless sports car dude over. America, $%^@ yeah! I've never wanted to thumbs-up a police officer so very much before.

I guess now I can no longer say, "There's never a cop around when you need one." Because holy crap, there totally was.

Millions of Peaches

One time while I was staying at my aunt's manse in Illinois, my grandfather was eating a can of peaches. That may seem weird to you on its own, but he is an old person and they are entitled to do whatever the hell they want. What was weird is how much he was complaining about these peaches. I could hear him chastising the peaches from a whole other room, "These are so bland!"

Peaches.

I decide not to intervene and continue reading my book by the koi pond. Eventually, however, he called me over to investigate his peaches with science. Only I do not need science at all because the moment I arrive I see that he is not eating a can of peaches at all. He is eating a can of whole potatoes. Granted, peeled whole potatoes, but whole potatoes none-the-less. Forgivable since the two, without reading the labels, actually look remotely similar.

Not peaches.

Until you realize, that for some reason, I don't think my grandfather knows what a peach actually is. Or perhaps he's forgotten somehow. To illustrate this point (without actually illustrating it), while watching an episode of The Office, where Dwight is eating from a can of beets, my grandpa thought those too were peaches. Beets look nothing like peaches. Edit: I'm informed Dwight was eating canned tomatoes, which doesn't help my grandfather's case out any.

Also not peaches.

Disappointment & Surprise

For years I used a basic Papermate PhD click pencil for my preliminary sketches. Henceforth to be referred to as Old Faithful. I found the thickness and shape of the pencil made drawing for hours on end far more tolerable. Even more expensive pencils manufactured by other companies in a similar fashion just hadn't gotten it quite right. The Papermate PhD surpassed all others in comfort.

Thus I was understandably distraught when, after ten years, my beloved pencil finally gave way to over-use and broke. Even more distraught when I learned I could not find another like it in stores anywhere. Papermate PhD in its original incarnation was no more. Several newer models had taken its place, none of which were as good as the first.

Not to get side tracked here but ten years is a pretty long life for a click pencil. I just felt obligated to point that out. Not even most cars last that long and you pay thousands of dollars for those. I paid $5.00 for my pencil.

In the interim I've tried dozens of pencils, trying to find a new one to take its place. From cheap Bic pencils to more expensive fancy pants art pencils. None of them could come close to the comfort and accuracy of the Papermate PhD. The closest I was able to achieve was the Papermate ComforteMate Ultra. I'm not sure why it is named in that manner, it is definitely not ultra comfortable. I'm also not too sure what's ultra about it, there doesn't seem to be just a regular ComfortMate out there, so it isn't simply a more ultimate version of another pencil. It served well enough, though.

Once I had settled, I pretty much gave up ever finding another Old Faithful. Until the other day when after drawing for about forty-five minutes my hand felt like it was about to shrivel up and fall off at the wrist. Surely the internet could help me in this dire time of need.

After searching high and low, I actually wasn't having much luck at all. Almost every Papermate PhD I came across was one of the newer varieties. Over-priced and simply not as good. Just as I was about to throw in the towel a second time, I found one site that not only still stocked the old Papermate PhD, but specialized in supplying older office supplies. Neat. Triumphant at last, I ordered myself a shiny new scarlet barrel Papermate PhD. Shipping was free so the total was $4.50, which incidentally is a little less than I had spent on Old Faithful. 

Quantity: 1

This week the package arrived and I happily opened it. I pull out not a scarlet barreled Papermate PhD but an emerald barreled Papermate PhD. At first I'm sorely disappointed. I was so looking forward to having the exact same pencil that I had loved so much before. While this was still the model I was searching for for the last several years, it was the wrong color entirely. But then I reach in and pull out another emerald barreled Papermate PhD. And another... Over and over again for a total of six Papermate PhDs.

ALL OF THE PENCILS!

Sure, it's six pencils all in the wrong color, but it's also six pencils for the price of one pencil. How can I reasonably complain? That'd be absurd. "Oh, I'm sorry. I hate free stuff, please take it all back and give me what I paid for." Yeah, no.

I do however wish Aaron had not gone to class with the mailbox key this morning. I could have been using these (all of them -- at once!) accomplishing multiple sketches rather than just a single sketch! Instead I used the ComfortMate which has left my whole arm sore to the elbow. Boo.