So the other day, I was watching Access Hollywood (you tell me what else is on at 6:30 that is NOT Wheel of Fortune) and they had a story about Whitney Houston on. In case you've been under a rock for the last 15-20 years, Whitney Houston has a slight issue with recreational narcotics. . . and it kinda shows. Especially when you compare present Whitney with Whitney circa 1980. Yes, I know she's older but we can't completely blame her deterioration on the ravages of time. . . and even if we could, "ravage" wouldn't be anywhere near an apt term. "Ravage" is almost too polite. I mean, if we could blame all that on aging it would be more akin to the sacking of Rome.
Same issue with Lindsey Lohan. She used to be very cute with the red har and her little freckles. Now she's on the fast train to Courtney Love-Ville. We all know what happened with Whitney (*cough, cough* Bobby Brown *cough*), but what is Lindsay Lohan's malfunction? How did Lindsey go from The Parent Trap remake to community service at the morgue? Somewhere in there, things went wrong; horribly wrong, just as has happened a thousand times before with other kids. The thing of it that blows my mind is: how can people possibly look at someone that is high, like seriously fucked-up high, and think: "this is the thing for ME to do"?
I think most people in America have seen a crackhead before. And if not a crackhead, then a meth head, a coke head, a heroin addict. . . Unfortunately, drugs are everywhere. Coming face to face with them and the people that use them are almost a certainty. Some people are sneaky and able hide that they have a problem for a long time. It's when they get too strung out to care about keeping it a secret, that we see them skulking around streets asking people for spare change. Some pity them. Some despise them. We all recognize them. And yet this country and many others continue to have a persistent drug problem.
I understand that some people are at greater risk for these types of things due to their life circumstances and the need for escapism. Hell, there have been a few days when the clock has barely struck 10am and I find myself thinking I could use a drink. Some days are just like that. But who the hell looks at a meth addict and thinks "I, too, would like to have my teeth rot out of my head before the age of 30?"
These are hard drugs. There is no doing crack one time then quitting tomorrow. And these folks know this. You can't not have drug awareness classes in school now, not if you don't want a nation of Tyrone Biggums. So what's the problem here?
I'll tell you what the problem is: peer pressure. Half the dumb shit most people do is on advice from other people that do dumb shit. The human is a social animal. We have a need to be accepted and sometimes we will go to great lengths to accomplish that. Sadly, this craving seems to have a nasty habit of handicapping our common sense. Like when people go out and buy a $500 of jeans because all the "cool" people have a $500 pair of jeans. Did that pair of jeans make your life better? No. It's fucking pants. Their primary purpose is to keep your legs warm/protect your skin. If those two needs are being served, it really doesn't matter how much they cost. Personally, the only way I'd pay that much money for pants is if they gave me super powers.
But back to drugs. People influence other people to try drugs. They make it sound seductive, wonderful, an altered state of consciousness where you'll see the world as you've never seen it before. . . Ok. I get that. It does sound kind of appealing. But let's take this scenario: you're at a party, just hanging out with your friends. One friend goes "hey, I got this meth. You wanna try it?" Your friend is not a drug dealer, not trying to make money off you. Just trying to share the wealth. They tell you they've been doing it for a while. It's great! Now, you're pretty cool with this friend, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you're thinking they look like shit. But all your other friends are doing it. You don't want to be left out. So what do you do? How did you get trapped in this ABC afterschool special (dating myself, I know)?
The answer may seem obvious, but the horrible part is that it isn't to everyone. This is where I get lost. I wouldn't let a meth addict suggest a new brand of toilet paper for me to use let alone a recreational drug. So why the hell would anyone else? You have somebody that looks like the crypt keeper telling you "You should use this drug. I use this drug. It's awesome". I would think it would be apparent that this individual's decision-making skills are a little impaired.
Who the hell was Lindsey Lohan hanging out with to get her into this stuff? I hear the free drugs flow like water in Hollywood, but people have to think about the fact the sometimes drug dealers need to do promotions just like any other salesmen. How do you rope in new clients? Free samples. People have to ask themselves: if you had never tried cocaine and it wasn't free, would you even want it?
Scenario 2: you're at a glamorous Hollywood affair. D-bag drug dealer says "hey, I got this heroine. Only $50 dollars (or whatever the hell heroine costs). You think: $50 dollars?! No, thanks. You start to walk away. D-bag drug dealer goes "Hey wait! Since it's you, I'll let you have the first batch for free." What do you do?
Again, answer seem sobvious. But what did Lindsey do? She thought "well, since it's free. . . ." Who gives a shit if it's free? It's heroine. And there's probably some supermodel vomiting all over herself in the corner because of it! But once again, people wanna be in the "in" crowd, the "it" crowd or whatever buzz word they're using these days for the more prominent sheeple.
I don't care if it gets you on the cover of People magazine, rehab is not cool. That saying "Even bad publicity is good publicity" is bullshit. And what are you publizing anyway, that you're too stupid to think for yourself? Yeah, that's definitely something you want to be common knowledge.
And anyway, getting arrested and having your mugshot on Entertainment Tonight is where it's at now.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Splenda Does NOT Taste Like Sugar
In my ongoing quest for fitness, I have made a few concessions to my diet in the last few years. I have started to eat more fruit and green vegetables. I am gravitating more towards lean meats and fish (both baked and grilled). I eat fat-free when I can stand it (fat is what makes things taste good. Eating some fat-free foods is like eating paper i.e. completely tasteless; but this varies from food to food) and reduced fat in other circumstances.
I almost completely cut out soda some years ago, which was much harder than it sounds. Going cold turkey from soda is like going cold turkey from crack. Somehow I managed. It was either that or switch to diet soda which was a no-go. Why? Because of the artificial sweeteners and their horrible taste. . . and the fact that they allegedly rot your insides like Draino. But mostly because of the taste.
Everyone knows Splenda, right? It's the fako sugar in the yellow packet and box. Anyway, there was this commercial a few years ago that expounded upon the wonders of Splenda by explaining how Splenda starts with sugar, tastes like sugar but it's NOT sugar. Then of course is your requisite scene with a couple of kids running into mom's kitchen to a tray of homemade cookies that are, supposedly, made with Splenda.
So the camera cuts to the little girl biting into a cookie and the look on her face plainly says "This cookie tastes like shit". Now, this makes sense because practically anything made with Splenda tastes like shit. Why? Because Splenda does NOT taste like sugar.
Now obviously, I'm not a fan of the fako sugar. There is absolutely nothing like the real thing. Yes, I know it's not good for you in large quantities, but neither is sunlight. That hasn't stopped people from going outside, though. A good old fashioned treat made with real sugar is not gonna hurt you every once in a while unless you're a diabetic. In which case, you're kinda stuck with whatever doesn't make you go hyperglycemic. Otherwise, there is no need to cheapen a perfectly good baked good with Splenda, Equal or any other gross sugar substitute. It makes baby Jesus cry.
Artificial sweeteners have a palpable aftertaste and it is not a good one. And there isn't any appropriate way to describe it either. It's kind of like that just-brushed-your-teeth aftertaste except that one has hints of flavors you can describe, like mint.What's the aftertaste of Splenda? Some miscellaneous chemical that I can't spell.
And the real kicker to Splenda and other no-cal sweeteners is that they DO have calories. The company just screws with the serving size and packing to get it under the guideline of what the FDA defines as a no-calorie food. So if you stand there and put 10 packets of Splenda in your coffee, you may as well have just put half as many packs of sugar in. It's almost the same thing.
Splenda, in particular, is mostly made by chlorinating regular sugar. Mmm. . . . chlorine. . . .*drools*. Why don't I just go ahead and put bleach in my cereal?
I suppose I understand the logic of fako sugar, but wouldn't it be easier to just practice moderation with sweets? That way, when you let yourself have one, it's even better because you made yourself wait. If you go around devouring plates of oatmeal raisins like a flesh-colored cookie monster, I think you have bigger problems than a little sugar anyway.
Now I know that some people will swear up and down that you can make yummy treats with artificial sugar and it will be far better for you than anything made with refined white sugar. To some people, refined sugar is like the satanic spawn of meth and heroin sprinkled with the ashes of unbaptized babies. Granted, it's bad. Still, if I'm going to sabotage my health, I'd rather do it with something that doesn't taste like diluted White Out. But that's just me.
Of course, if anyone would like to prove me wrong, feel free to whip up your finest baked goods and forward them on. I promise to let you know whether or not they ended up in the garbage.
I almost completely cut out soda some years ago, which was much harder than it sounds. Going cold turkey from soda is like going cold turkey from crack. Somehow I managed. It was either that or switch to diet soda which was a no-go. Why? Because of the artificial sweeteners and their horrible taste. . . and the fact that they allegedly rot your insides like Draino. But mostly because of the taste.
Everyone knows Splenda, right? It's the fako sugar in the yellow packet and box. Anyway, there was this commercial a few years ago that expounded upon the wonders of Splenda by explaining how Splenda starts with sugar, tastes like sugar but it's NOT sugar. Then of course is your requisite scene with a couple of kids running into mom's kitchen to a tray of homemade cookies that are, supposedly, made with Splenda.
So the camera cuts to the little girl biting into a cookie and the look on her face plainly says "This cookie tastes like shit". Now, this makes sense because practically anything made with Splenda tastes like shit. Why? Because Splenda does NOT taste like sugar.
Now obviously, I'm not a fan of the fako sugar. There is absolutely nothing like the real thing. Yes, I know it's not good for you in large quantities, but neither is sunlight. That hasn't stopped people from going outside, though. A good old fashioned treat made with real sugar is not gonna hurt you every once in a while unless you're a diabetic. In which case, you're kinda stuck with whatever doesn't make you go hyperglycemic. Otherwise, there is no need to cheapen a perfectly good baked good with Splenda, Equal or any other gross sugar substitute. It makes baby Jesus cry.
Artificial sweeteners have a palpable aftertaste and it is not a good one. And there isn't any appropriate way to describe it either. It's kind of like that just-brushed-your-teeth aftertaste except that one has hints of flavors you can describe, like mint.What's the aftertaste of Splenda? Some miscellaneous chemical that I can't spell.
And the real kicker to Splenda and other no-cal sweeteners is that they DO have calories. The company just screws with the serving size and packing to get it under the guideline of what the FDA defines as a no-calorie food. So if you stand there and put 10 packets of Splenda in your coffee, you may as well have just put half as many packs of sugar in. It's almost the same thing.
Splenda, in particular, is mostly made by chlorinating regular sugar. Mmm. . . . chlorine. . . .*drools*. Why don't I just go ahead and put bleach in my cereal?
I suppose I understand the logic of fako sugar, but wouldn't it be easier to just practice moderation with sweets? That way, when you let yourself have one, it's even better because you made yourself wait. If you go around devouring plates of oatmeal raisins like a flesh-colored cookie monster, I think you have bigger problems than a little sugar anyway.
Now I know that some people will swear up and down that you can make yummy treats with artificial sugar and it will be far better for you than anything made with refined white sugar. To some people, refined sugar is like the satanic spawn of meth and heroin sprinkled with the ashes of unbaptized babies. Granted, it's bad. Still, if I'm going to sabotage my health, I'd rather do it with something that doesn't taste like diluted White Out. But that's just me.
Of course, if anyone would like to prove me wrong, feel free to whip up your finest baked goods and forward them on. I promise to let you know whether or not they ended up in the garbage.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
So Does Ken Have a Job or What?
So while I was working on the girly girl blog, I really got to thinking about this whole Barbie doll phenomenon. As much as I've never cared for them, I know that the company has tried to use Barbie (to some extent) as a positive role model for little girls by giving her all these different careers that she apparently engages in while wearing an evening gown and high heels. Because, you know, real women do that. We also fight crime in a thong and pasties just like in the comic books.
Anyway, Barbie has it all; a career (several, actually), a Corvette, a Porsche, an RV, a condo, a stable full of horses, a dream house and the man of her dreams, Ken. Sounds great, right? It's what all women want, right? Not so fast.
While Barbie is out being a doctor/lawyer/veterinarian/astronaut/managingadairyqueen (yep, Barbie has an ice cream shop playset), what the fuck is Ken doing? Think about it. How many themed Barbies have there been? Yeah, they come out with a matching themed Ken, but he's always just a tag-a-long. If Barbie lives in Malibu, then Ken lives in Malibu too. But who's paying for the dream house in Malibu? Where the hell is astronaut Ken? While Barbie is in space saving animals, what is Ken doing? Is he just chillin' at the dream house sleeping til 10 every morning and then strolling on down to the beach to work on his tan?
Ken, apparently, does not have a job.
Now, if we go ahead and run with the idea that Barbie is supposed to be a positive role model for little girls, what sort of message is this sending? That you should work yourself ragged while some deadbeat with six-pack abs drives other bitches around in your Porsche?
Come to think of it, that' s probably why you never see Ken driving Barbie's car in the commercials. He's always riding shotgun. I bet Ken was borrowing Barbie's car to "look for a job" then one day, Barbie found some panties in the glove compartment that weren't hers.
There's probably an episode of Cheaters floating around somewhere with black and white footage of Ken out on a date with some other broad while Barbie is around the corner in a van with the host. Then Barbie runs up to confront Ken and . . well. . . You've all seen the show. And if you haven't, you're missing the finest trash television.
But just in case you really haven't seen Cheaters, a fight over or with the cheating partner usually ensues. I'm sure Ken fell in line after that. I mean, Barbie looks like she'll cut a bitch.
And if, in fact, Ken does not have a job, I think we have an explanation for the demographic of women that thinks supporting a leech of a boyfriend is a valid life plan. Don't get me wrong. I understand times are tough, but Ken should at least try and get a little side hustle going or pull his weight around the dream house. Where is Stay-At-Home-Dad Ken (After all, Skipper is obviously Ken and Barbie's illegitimate daughter. Little sister, my ass)? Bootleg DVD Ken? Bottle-of-Windex-and-Some-Paper-Towels-by-the-Freeway-Off-Ramp Ken?
Hopefully, Barbie's kept her options open. There's a thousand other Kens out there and Barbie is a millionaire. She can buy any one of them that she wants.
Anyway, Barbie has it all; a career (several, actually), a Corvette, a Porsche, an RV, a condo, a stable full of horses, a dream house and the man of her dreams, Ken. Sounds great, right? It's what all women want, right? Not so fast.
While Barbie is out being a doctor/lawyer/veterinarian/astronaut/managingadairyqueen (yep, Barbie has an ice cream shop playset), what the fuck is Ken doing? Think about it. How many themed Barbies have there been? Yeah, they come out with a matching themed Ken, but he's always just a tag-a-long. If Barbie lives in Malibu, then Ken lives in Malibu too. But who's paying for the dream house in Malibu? Where the hell is astronaut Ken? While Barbie is in space saving animals, what is Ken doing? Is he just chillin' at the dream house sleeping til 10 every morning and then strolling on down to the beach to work on his tan?
Ken, apparently, does not have a job.
Now, if we go ahead and run with the idea that Barbie is supposed to be a positive role model for little girls, what sort of message is this sending? That you should work yourself ragged while some deadbeat with six-pack abs drives other bitches around in your Porsche?
Come to think of it, that' s probably why you never see Ken driving Barbie's car in the commercials. He's always riding shotgun. I bet Ken was borrowing Barbie's car to "look for a job" then one day, Barbie found some panties in the glove compartment that weren't hers.
There's probably an episode of Cheaters floating around somewhere with black and white footage of Ken out on a date with some other broad while Barbie is around the corner in a van with the host. Then Barbie runs up to confront Ken and . . well. . . You've all seen the show. And if you haven't, you're missing the finest trash television.
But just in case you really haven't seen Cheaters, a fight over or with the cheating partner usually ensues. I'm sure Ken fell in line after that. I mean, Barbie looks like she'll cut a bitch.
And if, in fact, Ken does not have a job, I think we have an explanation for the demographic of women that thinks supporting a leech of a boyfriend is a valid life plan. Don't get me wrong. I understand times are tough, but Ken should at least try and get a little side hustle going or pull his weight around the dream house. Where is Stay-At-Home-Dad Ken (After all, Skipper is obviously Ken and Barbie's illegitimate daughter. Little sister, my ass)? Bootleg DVD Ken? Bottle-of-Windex-and-Some-Paper-Towels-by-the-Freeway-Off-Ramp Ken?
Hopefully, Barbie's kept her options open. There's a thousand other Kens out there and Barbie is a millionaire. She can buy any one of them that she wants.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Girly Girl
Continuing in the vein of child-rearing (moms, I hope you were taking notes from the last blog. At minimum you will require diapers, a crib, a leash and a baby cage), there's more than just a potential lack of maternal instinct to fear. Of course I'd want a healthy baby, but barring any health issues, there is one other thing that scares the shit out of me: having a girly girl daughter.
Now, don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with being a girly girl. . . if you like that sort of thing. I personally never saw the appeal. As a little girl, I liked to read and play video games. As an adult woman, I like to. . . well, read and play video games. The point is that I was never interested in much of the typical girl stuff. I had Barbies, but didn't really care for them. I never had any desire to wear dresses. I think I could count the articles of pink clothing I had on one hand. I wouldn't call myself a tomboy (I sucked at sports/outdoor activities), but I was as far from girly as you can be without having a penis.
Nowadays, everyone knows that I like my makeup and that I can occasionally be found in clothing that is not a t-shirt , jeans and my Chucks, but not a whole lot else has changed. I am actually a goth turned card-carrying geek. I like mmorpgs, comic book and horror movies and sword and sorcery fantasy novels.You want to know whether a superhero is DC or Marvel? I'm your girl. You wanna know what the "in" color is for the fall? I have no fucking clue. Go ask someone that cares.
Now put into the arms of this previously described woman a little girl that likes butterflies and the idea of being a cheerleader. Yeah. . .
Again, not that there's anything wrong with any of these things. There isn't. But putting me in charge of this child would be like putting me in charge of teaching Sunday school (F.Y.I. it is apparently not acceptable to show The Exorcist to a Sunday school class. What? It's religiously-themed). I just wouldn't know how to deal with it. I mean, I suppose I would have to deal with it, but the thought of having to spend time at the American Girl store makes me want to go burn it down before that issue even comes up. I could Build-a-Bear all day, but a doll tea party would require a Valium or seven.
And, of course, my little girl would have to have a bright pink frou-frou bedroom with bows and ruffles and sparkly shit. You know, something that looks like Glinda the Good Witch exploded in it but without all the fun blood and gore? Having this in my house, would be like having the haunted room from Poltergeist down the hall. I actually don't mind pink in moderation, but not of a hue that might cause an epileptic seizure.
Then there's the whole Barbie obsession to potentially deal with. Barbie is like the Apple of dolls, crushing all competitors under her fuschia pumps and looking fabulous while doing it. When I was little, I had a friend that LOVED Barbie. She had Barbie everything. I didn't get it. I had Barbie dolls, too; but I just wasn't that into them, not to the point where I was begging my mom to buy all the accessory crap that goes along with her. Barbie has her own universe, like the Marvel or DC universes only everything is pink and no one gets beat up. . as far as we know.
Anyway, this is a fascination that could be sucking my wallet dry for years if I have a little girl that really gets into it. Of course, the curse of Barbie only begins with the doll and her trappings. There's also the videos. *shudder*
I'm already trying to think of ways to trick my baby daddy into watching this mess. Men, you're usually very good sports about humoring your daughters and their girly crap. But the fact that you will sit down and watch Barbie Princess Party or whatever the hell it is, does in no way mean that you want to watch Barbie Princess party. For myself, sitting still for Barbie anything is going to require either a lobotomy or another person to pawn this duty off on.
If my little girl wants to watch UFC insert-number-here, I'm there. If she wants to watch Barbie Princess Party, then it's time to go to Grandma's house.
Fortunately, when Barbie Princess Whatever leads to my little girl wanting to be a princess for Halloween (which it will, no matter how much I beg her to be a zombie just once), I'll dress her up in a pretty pink dress with a nice tiara and take her out to go trick-or-treating. Then, just before we hit the first house, I'll pop out my handy dandy bucket of pig's blood and BAM! Instant Carrie.
Happy Halloween.
Now, don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with being a girly girl. . . if you like that sort of thing. I personally never saw the appeal. As a little girl, I liked to read and play video games. As an adult woman, I like to. . . well, read and play video games. The point is that I was never interested in much of the typical girl stuff. I had Barbies, but didn't really care for them. I never had any desire to wear dresses. I think I could count the articles of pink clothing I had on one hand. I wouldn't call myself a tomboy (I sucked at sports/outdoor activities), but I was as far from girly as you can be without having a penis.
Nowadays, everyone knows that I like my makeup and that I can occasionally be found in clothing that is not a t-shirt , jeans and my Chucks, but not a whole lot else has changed. I am actually a goth turned card-carrying geek. I like mmorpgs, comic book and horror movies and sword and sorcery fantasy novels.You want to know whether a superhero is DC or Marvel? I'm your girl. You wanna know what the "in" color is for the fall? I have no fucking clue. Go ask someone that cares.
Now put into the arms of this previously described woman a little girl that likes butterflies and the idea of being a cheerleader. Yeah. . .
Again, not that there's anything wrong with any of these things. There isn't. But putting me in charge of this child would be like putting me in charge of teaching Sunday school (F.Y.I. it is apparently not acceptable to show The Exorcist to a Sunday school class. What? It's religiously-themed). I just wouldn't know how to deal with it. I mean, I suppose I would have to deal with it, but the thought of having to spend time at the American Girl store makes me want to go burn it down before that issue even comes up. I could Build-a-Bear all day, but a doll tea party would require a Valium or seven.
And, of course, my little girl would have to have a bright pink frou-frou bedroom with bows and ruffles and sparkly shit. You know, something that looks like Glinda the Good Witch exploded in it but without all the fun blood and gore? Having this in my house, would be like having the haunted room from Poltergeist down the hall. I actually don't mind pink in moderation, but not of a hue that might cause an epileptic seizure.
Then there's the whole Barbie obsession to potentially deal with. Barbie is like the Apple of dolls, crushing all competitors under her fuschia pumps and looking fabulous while doing it. When I was little, I had a friend that LOVED Barbie. She had Barbie everything. I didn't get it. I had Barbie dolls, too; but I just wasn't that into them, not to the point where I was begging my mom to buy all the accessory crap that goes along with her. Barbie has her own universe, like the Marvel or DC universes only everything is pink and no one gets beat up. . as far as we know.
Anyway, this is a fascination that could be sucking my wallet dry for years if I have a little girl that really gets into it. Of course, the curse of Barbie only begins with the doll and her trappings. There's also the videos. *shudder*
I'm already trying to think of ways to trick my baby daddy into watching this mess. Men, you're usually very good sports about humoring your daughters and their girly crap. But the fact that you will sit down and watch Barbie Princess Party or whatever the hell it is, does in no way mean that you want to watch Barbie Princess party. For myself, sitting still for Barbie anything is going to require either a lobotomy or another person to pawn this duty off on.
If my little girl wants to watch UFC insert-number-here, I'm there. If she wants to watch Barbie Princess Party, then it's time to go to Grandma's house.
Fortunately, when Barbie Princess Whatever leads to my little girl wanting to be a princess for Halloween (which it will, no matter how much I beg her to be a zombie just once), I'll dress her up in a pretty pink dress with a nice tiara and take her out to go trick-or-treating. Then, just before we hit the first house, I'll pop out my handy dandy bucket of pig's blood and BAM! Instant Carrie.
Happy Halloween.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
My Maternal Instinct
I keep telling other people (and myself) that I'd like to have children one day. Of course, this desire tends to be dependent upon how much recent interaction that I've had with children. There's nothing like a screaming baby in a restaurant or grocery store to make one's ovaries seize up.
Honestly, I haven't spent a lot of time around kids of any age and the idea that I am able to (potentially) reproduce without any sort of license or supervising body is really kinda scary. I will have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, either during or after the pregnancy. I mean, I know you have to get diapers and a crib and stop drinking and smoking about halfway through, but then what? It'd be really nice if, after the baby and before the placenta, an instruction manual came down the old lady pipes. Actually, no. The manual should come out first.
I guess I'm worried that I don't really have much of a maternal instinct or that it is minimal, like the plop-out-the-kid-and-be-on-my-merry-way kind of minimal. Any fool can lie on a gurney doped up on great drugs and have a c-section (hopefully, this can be done by request), but it takes a special person to be truly nurturing. Last time I checked "every man for himself" doesn't really apply to people that just vacated a womb.
Some people are great with kids right out of the gate. And then there's people like me. It's not that I don't like kids. I just don't know what to do with them. I can picture myself in the delivery room holding up my newborn son or daughter like a used Kleenex wondering what to do next. I mean, after you chew through the umbilical cord, what else is there?
I suppose it's not really a far stretch to imagine my husband or baby daddy (I'm getting older, the time to be picky about that is nigh to an end) being summoned all over the city to collect an errant child because I accidentally left him or her somewhere. After all, it's pretty easy to drop your baby at the coat check and forget to pick it up on the way out. Then once they start walking it becomes even harder to keep track of them. One of those kid leashes will definitely be in order. I'm certain that I will have great piece of mind knowing my child is safely tied to the stop sign outside while I'm in Starbucks getting my latte.
Then there are so many ways that you can unconsciously screw up a kid. Having a baby is like buying a used car: you really have no idea what you're getting into until its too late. One day your baby daddy is wheeling you out of the hospital with a sweet little bundle of joy, then the next thing you know, you're on the news with your face blurred out pleading with him or her to turn themselves in.
Ok, so most people don't fuck up that badly, but even just realizing your kid is an asshole has to be a bit sobering. Not that you love them any less (probably), but it has to make you call into question everything you've ever done. Did you not hug them enough? Were you too tough? Should you have been more tough? Or did they just inherit the asshole gene from your significant other's side of the family?
Luckily, none of these are questions that I'll have to contend with any time soon. It's a good thing, though. I have absolutely no where to put a baby cage right now.
Honestly, I haven't spent a lot of time around kids of any age and the idea that I am able to (potentially) reproduce without any sort of license or supervising body is really kinda scary. I will have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, either during or after the pregnancy. I mean, I know you have to get diapers and a crib and stop drinking and smoking about halfway through, but then what? It'd be really nice if, after the baby and before the placenta, an instruction manual came down the old lady pipes. Actually, no. The manual should come out first.
I guess I'm worried that I don't really have much of a maternal instinct or that it is minimal, like the plop-out-the-kid-and-be-on-my-merry-way kind of minimal. Any fool can lie on a gurney doped up on great drugs and have a c-section (hopefully, this can be done by request), but it takes a special person to be truly nurturing. Last time I checked "every man for himself" doesn't really apply to people that just vacated a womb.
Some people are great with kids right out of the gate. And then there's people like me. It's not that I don't like kids. I just don't know what to do with them. I can picture myself in the delivery room holding up my newborn son or daughter like a used Kleenex wondering what to do next. I mean, after you chew through the umbilical cord, what else is there?
I suppose it's not really a far stretch to imagine my husband or baby daddy (I'm getting older, the time to be picky about that is nigh to an end) being summoned all over the city to collect an errant child because I accidentally left him or her somewhere. After all, it's pretty easy to drop your baby at the coat check and forget to pick it up on the way out. Then once they start walking it becomes even harder to keep track of them. One of those kid leashes will definitely be in order. I'm certain that I will have great piece of mind knowing my child is safely tied to the stop sign outside while I'm in Starbucks getting my latte.
Then there are so many ways that you can unconsciously screw up a kid. Having a baby is like buying a used car: you really have no idea what you're getting into until its too late. One day your baby daddy is wheeling you out of the hospital with a sweet little bundle of joy, then the next thing you know, you're on the news with your face blurred out pleading with him or her to turn themselves in.
Ok, so most people don't fuck up that badly, but even just realizing your kid is an asshole has to be a bit sobering. Not that you love them any less (probably), but it has to make you call into question everything you've ever done. Did you not hug them enough? Were you too tough? Should you have been more tough? Or did they just inherit the asshole gene from your significant other's side of the family?
Luckily, none of these are questions that I'll have to contend with any time soon. It's a good thing, though. I have absolutely no where to put a baby cage right now.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Grocery Store Hierarchy
I like going to Target. I probably prefer going to Target over any other store. It's clean, products are quality and some of them have a Starbucks right in the store. Gotta love that. However, they aren't always competitive with other large chain stores. When I had a good job, it was the first place I went to shop and I hardly ever bothered comparison shopping or coupon clipping. The last couple years have been a completely different story and I have found myself shopping at places I never shopped at before. This change in my consumer habits made me realize that there's a grocery store hierarchy that I think most of us unconsciously perpetuate and which is, obviously, dependent upon our current income levels.
Having made this realization, I have ventured to make a list to showcase where the most popular chains lie in order from where you shop when you can afford to shop anywhere down to where you shop when your paydays are marked with a sad face on your calendar.
Top of the list: Whole Foods. I love Whole Foods. Fresh organic produce, the best cuts of meat, all natural selection: what's not to love? The prices, that's what. Whole foods is ridiculously expensive. I've never even tried to get through a whole grocery list here. I'm not at all interested in spending $400 on groceries that could potentially end up in the garbage if and when they expire. Actually, I doubt if I could even throw anything from this store in the trash. The inside of my refrigerator would probably end up looking like a penicillin farm.
Second: Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's actually has very competitive prices. They're big on the organic/natural foods and products and they have $2 wine (no, it's not Boone's Farm). The major issue with them is that their stores and, therefore, their selections, tend to be small. They also have a limited number of locations. So what you would save in food costs, you'd only lose in gas . Trying to go to Trader Joe's is like trying to go to Mordor. I've also not seen one with a parking lot. Can you imagine Frodo and Sam circling Mt. Doom looking for a space? They'd toss that ring in the nearest trash can fire and go on back home.
Next: Supervalu chains. These are your Albertsons/Jewel/Cub Food stores. In Illinois, we have Jewel. Jewel tends to be cheaper than Whole Foods, but some items there can be pricey. The major difference is less organic stuff and the fact that you can catch good sales to make shopping here worth while sometimes. However, the quality of a Jewel store is highly dependent upon the neighborhood in which it is found. Nice neighborhood = nice Jewel. Meh neighborhood = Meh Jewel. Fucked up neighborhood = fucked up Jewel. That's assuming, of course, that your fucked up neighborhood even has a grocery store. If you're living in a food desert, you're just going to have a corner store where half a gallon of milk costs $7.99 and the only vegetables to be found are in dented cans of spaghetti sauce.
Third: Super Target and Meijer. I personally like Super Target because it's a one-stop shop. You can get groceries, a vacuum cleaner and some sexy sock monkey pajama pants all in the same store. But again, some prices can be a bit unreasonable. I've seen $50 pants here. For some people, I know this is not a lot. But for me, I'm not really keen to pay that much for something that is gonna touch my ass. . . unless that something is a 20-year-old with six pack abs. Some of the food prices can be a little high as well. I know that not many people consider Target to be that fancy. To them I say: Go shop at a shitty Wal-Mart and see how nice Target is after that.
Sam's Club and Costco are your mid-tiers. Not bad if you're feeding/clothing/buying tires for a large family or if you're just the sort of person that likes to buy your mayonnaise by the drum. Downside here: people like to pack their 8 kids into full-sized vans and take the whole family grocery shopping. This can be inconvenient for and annoying to people who don't regularly travel in a caravan. I say lock those younger rugrats in a closet for an hour or two and just bring the kids who will not "accidentally" get run over by my shopping cart.
In a class of its own: Wal-mart. I was ethically opposed to shopping here forever. They're awful on many different levels. But my ethics were put in time out after my finances imploded. Bottom line: They're cheap. But they're cheap because their employees work for chewing gum and pocket lint. There's a vague aura of oppression in every store. The produce in here is questionable sometimes. Here's a clue Wal-mart employees: fuzzy peaches = normal. Fuzzy oranges = not normal. Then, too, customers at Wal-mart can be. . . colorful. Think demolition derby crowd meets Freaknik crowd with a Marilyn Manson concert thrown in for good measure. Yeah. . . And the decor is like being in a 30-year-old Sears. I've been to one nice Wal-mart. All the rest of them are a mess.
Piggly Wiggly and Kroger: I haven't seen these two outside of the South, but I'm not exactly well-travelled. They're actually less depressing than being at Wal-mart and they carry name brand foods. The only reason I put them below Walmart on the list is because I've seen these located in strip malls and sometimes their parking lots are so unkempt that the stores look abandoned. Hookers could possibly be blowing people in cars there at night.
Last and Least: Save-a-Lot and Aldi. I'm not looking down on anyone that has shopped at either of these. I have shopped at both of them. You gotta do what you gotta do. They carry some name brand items, but they overwhelmingly carry name brand ripoffs. Now, there's nothing wrong with off brands. I repeat: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH OFF BRANDS. However. . .
Well, you know when you start eating something. . . .? And you slowly realize it tastes funny. . .? Then you start chewing slower. . .? Then you you start checking out the ingredients on the box. . ? Save-a-Lot and Aldi are notorious for those what-the-fuck-is-in-this tastes to their off brands. What you initially save on the grocery bill can often be cancelled out by what you end up tossing out. It's like stuffing money in a stripper's g-string. Initially you feel good about it, but ultimately, you just wish you had that $5 back. If I didn't know better, I'd swear they were selling us soylent green (brownie points to anyone that gets that reference). Fun fact: Save-a-Lot is one of Supervalu's bastard children.
Honorable mentions: K-mart and Dominicks (Illinois only) If you ever go in K-mart, all the employees have dead eyes. I'm rather surprised that chain is still hanging on. And Dominick's seems to be under the impression that they are Whole Foods. They have gone insane with their prices in recent years. Dear Dominick's: if you have stores in the 'hood, you are not Whole Foods. Get your shit together.
Having made this realization, I have ventured to make a list to showcase where the most popular chains lie in order from where you shop when you can afford to shop anywhere down to where you shop when your paydays are marked with a sad face on your calendar.
Top of the list: Whole Foods. I love Whole Foods. Fresh organic produce, the best cuts of meat, all natural selection: what's not to love? The prices, that's what. Whole foods is ridiculously expensive. I've never even tried to get through a whole grocery list here. I'm not at all interested in spending $400 on groceries that could potentially end up in the garbage if and when they expire. Actually, I doubt if I could even throw anything from this store in the trash. The inside of my refrigerator would probably end up looking like a penicillin farm.
Second: Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's actually has very competitive prices. They're big on the organic/natural foods and products and they have $2 wine (no, it's not Boone's Farm). The major issue with them is that their stores and, therefore, their selections, tend to be small. They also have a limited number of locations. So what you would save in food costs, you'd only lose in gas . Trying to go to Trader Joe's is like trying to go to Mordor. I've also not seen one with a parking lot. Can you imagine Frodo and Sam circling Mt. Doom looking for a space? They'd toss that ring in the nearest trash can fire and go on back home.
Next: Supervalu chains. These are your Albertsons/Jewel/Cub Food stores. In Illinois, we have Jewel. Jewel tends to be cheaper than Whole Foods, but some items there can be pricey. The major difference is less organic stuff and the fact that you can catch good sales to make shopping here worth while sometimes. However, the quality of a Jewel store is highly dependent upon the neighborhood in which it is found. Nice neighborhood = nice Jewel. Meh neighborhood = Meh Jewel. Fucked up neighborhood = fucked up Jewel. That's assuming, of course, that your fucked up neighborhood even has a grocery store. If you're living in a food desert, you're just going to have a corner store where half a gallon of milk costs $7.99 and the only vegetables to be found are in dented cans of spaghetti sauce.
Third: Super Target and Meijer. I personally like Super Target because it's a one-stop shop. You can get groceries, a vacuum cleaner and some sexy sock monkey pajama pants all in the same store. But again, some prices can be a bit unreasonable. I've seen $50 pants here. For some people, I know this is not a lot. But for me, I'm not really keen to pay that much for something that is gonna touch my ass. . . unless that something is a 20-year-old with six pack abs. Some of the food prices can be a little high as well. I know that not many people consider Target to be that fancy. To them I say: Go shop at a shitty Wal-Mart and see how nice Target is after that.
Sam's Club and Costco are your mid-tiers. Not bad if you're feeding/clothing/buying tires for a large family or if you're just the sort of person that likes to buy your mayonnaise by the drum. Downside here: people like to pack their 8 kids into full-sized vans and take the whole family grocery shopping. This can be inconvenient for and annoying to people who don't regularly travel in a caravan. I say lock those younger rugrats in a closet for an hour or two and just bring the kids who will not "accidentally" get run over by my shopping cart.
In a class of its own: Wal-mart. I was ethically opposed to shopping here forever. They're awful on many different levels. But my ethics were put in time out after my finances imploded. Bottom line: They're cheap. But they're cheap because their employees work for chewing gum and pocket lint. There's a vague aura of oppression in every store. The produce in here is questionable sometimes. Here's a clue Wal-mart employees: fuzzy peaches = normal. Fuzzy oranges = not normal. Then, too, customers at Wal-mart can be. . . colorful. Think demolition derby crowd meets Freaknik crowd with a Marilyn Manson concert thrown in for good measure. Yeah. . . And the decor is like being in a 30-year-old Sears. I've been to one nice Wal-mart. All the rest of them are a mess.
Piggly Wiggly and Kroger: I haven't seen these two outside of the South, but I'm not exactly well-travelled. They're actually less depressing than being at Wal-mart and they carry name brand foods. The only reason I put them below Walmart on the list is because I've seen these located in strip malls and sometimes their parking lots are so unkempt that the stores look abandoned. Hookers could possibly be blowing people in cars there at night.
Last and Least: Save-a-Lot and Aldi. I'm not looking down on anyone that has shopped at either of these. I have shopped at both of them. You gotta do what you gotta do. They carry some name brand items, but they overwhelmingly carry name brand ripoffs. Now, there's nothing wrong with off brands. I repeat: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH OFF BRANDS. However. . .
Well, you know when you start eating something. . . .? And you slowly realize it tastes funny. . .? Then you start chewing slower. . .? Then you you start checking out the ingredients on the box. . ? Save-a-Lot and Aldi are notorious for those what-the-fuck-is-in-this tastes to their off brands. What you initially save on the grocery bill can often be cancelled out by what you end up tossing out. It's like stuffing money in a stripper's g-string. Initially you feel good about it, but ultimately, you just wish you had that $5 back. If I didn't know better, I'd swear they were selling us soylent green (brownie points to anyone that gets that reference). Fun fact: Save-a-Lot is one of Supervalu's bastard children.
Honorable mentions: K-mart and Dominicks (Illinois only) If you ever go in K-mart, all the employees have dead eyes. I'm rather surprised that chain is still hanging on. And Dominick's seems to be under the impression that they are Whole Foods. They have gone insane with their prices in recent years. Dear Dominick's: if you have stores in the 'hood, you are not Whole Foods. Get your shit together.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Ladies: It's Not a Good Look
After the previous blog, I got to thinking that it's not really fair for me to single out men for some of their boneheadedness. I need to be an equal an equal opportunity hater. Women do dumb shit, too. As a woman, I wish I could say that I understood the reasoning behind some of our behaviors, but. . . I just don't. So don't feel too bad, men, when your lady does something that you just don't get. There's a good chance that she doesn't really know either. Unfortunately, we have a tendency to do things just because other women do them. Apparently, some of us have a little lemming DNA in our genetic makeup. I've heard it can be partially deactivated with shock aversion therapy. All except the gene that controls compulsive designer shoe shopping. That instinct harks back to when our ape ancestors gathered stilettos in the wild. It's here to stay.
Speaking of shoes, one thing I don't get in regards to some of our shoes is the addition of heels to shoes meant to serve a practical purpose. I mean, designers put high heels on any and every damned thing these days. Sneakers, hiking boots, snow boots : these are not shoes that are meant to have heels or wedges on them. They are dumb with a capital what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you "D". The whole point of them is to have traction. Last time I checked, you don't really get good traction with a five-inch heel. Yet, every winter, I see women out with these wedge snow boots skating Wile E. Coyote style into trees because their boots don't grip.
First, a lot of these boots are just ridiculous looking. Aside from the wedge, there's fur and tassels and fringe and beads and whatever hell else can be stuck these things. I don't know about anyone else, but I got over liking stickers and rhinestones and shit on my shoes when I was four. Second, anyone that goes out in a foot of snow and ice in a shoe with anything higher than a 1-inch heel deserves to whatever happens to her out there. I'm sure you'll look very sexy in a full body cast.
Another issue, ladies: makeup. If you look like Little Richard, you are wearing too much. Also, glittery makeup should not be worn by anyone over 20. . . unless they're in the circus. Don't get me wrong. I like makeup (if you've seen my pictures, you know that I really like it). Just not when it's been applied with a paint sprayer. And I'm pretty sure that men don't like it when their lady looks like a mime either.
In a similar vein, the whole eyebrow thing where you shave it off and then draw on some more or pluck them to the point where you look like Cookie from The Bozo Show. . . What is that about? Who started that? We need to find this person and take away their razor and tweezers. This look is not for everyone (hell, it probably isn't for anyone). Ladies, we need to stop doing things because we see other women doing them for this very reason. I mean, what's next? If your bff shaves a plug of hair out of the middle of her head, are you going to do that too? In fact, I think I'll start an Internet rumor that this is the hot trend for next spring. I bet I'd get a least a few takers.
One other thing that women do that just astounds me: flocking around one man like a bunch of pigs at a trough. Seeing this phenomenon makes me cringe. I don't care how good looking a man is. That is really thirsty behavior. Am I saying that it's wrong to approach a man? Not at all. But have some dignity. This scenario is going to lead to nothing but unhealthy competition between the women engaging in it. Every time I observe it, I hear this in my head. If it's gonna be all that, let's just skip the formalities and start slapping bitches. I also have to question the integrity and intention of any man that entertains this sort of behavior. Is it flattering? Well, is an abandoned briefcase full of money finders keeps (The answer to both of those questions is "yes")?
Look, I know that some men like that herd mentality in a woman. After all, you never see a cow demanding that a bull man up and take care of his responsibilities. But do you ever stop to think who else these chicks might be flocking around when you're not there, men? There's easier ways to get on Maury Povich.
And ladies, you deserve a man that's going to focus on you and you alone. Don't sell yourself short because a guy has a nice smile. You'll be treated the way you allow people to treat you. This is the wrong foot to start off on.
Third no-no (and this one is really for everyone): Don't leave the house in your pajamas. Now, I don't know when exactly this became mainstream, but I have seen waaaaay too many women out and about in what is obviously sleepwear. Let's make no bones about it: this is tacky. It just is. And it's not like girls are stepping out in sexy satin numbers either. They are rolling out in plaid pajamas bottoms and a wife beater. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with sleeping in this. That pairing is one of my favorite boudoir ensembles (which could be one reason why I'm single, but that's another blog) . But going to the grocery store or class in that outfit with some mystery brown stain on the crotch. . . . Not happening. At least not with me. Mostly because I could pretty much guarantee that I would meet the man of my dreams while wearing sock monkey sleep pants.
Cliff notes version: going to the mailbox in pjs = acceptable. Going to the public library in pjs = unacceptable. I mean, no one is asking anyone to get all gussied up to run an errand. Just put some damned clothes on.
Speaking of shoes, one thing I don't get in regards to some of our shoes is the addition of heels to shoes meant to serve a practical purpose. I mean, designers put high heels on any and every damned thing these days. Sneakers, hiking boots, snow boots : these are not shoes that are meant to have heels or wedges on them. They are dumb with a capital what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you "D". The whole point of them is to have traction. Last time I checked, you don't really get good traction with a five-inch heel. Yet, every winter, I see women out with these wedge snow boots skating Wile E. Coyote style into trees because their boots don't grip.
First, a lot of these boots are just ridiculous looking. Aside from the wedge, there's fur and tassels and fringe and beads and whatever hell else can be stuck these things. I don't know about anyone else, but I got over liking stickers and rhinestones and shit on my shoes when I was four. Second, anyone that goes out in a foot of snow and ice in a shoe with anything higher than a 1-inch heel deserves to whatever happens to her out there. I'm sure you'll look very sexy in a full body cast.
Another issue, ladies: makeup. If you look like Little Richard, you are wearing too much. Also, glittery makeup should not be worn by anyone over 20. . . unless they're in the circus. Don't get me wrong. I like makeup (if you've seen my pictures, you know that I really like it). Just not when it's been applied with a paint sprayer. And I'm pretty sure that men don't like it when their lady looks like a mime either.
In a similar vein, the whole eyebrow thing where you shave it off and then draw on some more or pluck them to the point where you look like Cookie from The Bozo Show. . . What is that about? Who started that? We need to find this person and take away their razor and tweezers. This look is not for everyone (hell, it probably isn't for anyone). Ladies, we need to stop doing things because we see other women doing them for this very reason. I mean, what's next? If your bff shaves a plug of hair out of the middle of her head, are you going to do that too? In fact, I think I'll start an Internet rumor that this is the hot trend for next spring. I bet I'd get a least a few takers.
One other thing that women do that just astounds me: flocking around one man like a bunch of pigs at a trough. Seeing this phenomenon makes me cringe. I don't care how good looking a man is. That is really thirsty behavior. Am I saying that it's wrong to approach a man? Not at all. But have some dignity. This scenario is going to lead to nothing but unhealthy competition between the women engaging in it. Every time I observe it, I hear this in my head. If it's gonna be all that, let's just skip the formalities and start slapping bitches. I also have to question the integrity and intention of any man that entertains this sort of behavior. Is it flattering? Well, is an abandoned briefcase full of money finders keeps (The answer to both of those questions is "yes")?
Look, I know that some men like that herd mentality in a woman. After all, you never see a cow demanding that a bull man up and take care of his responsibilities. But do you ever stop to think who else these chicks might be flocking around when you're not there, men? There's easier ways to get on Maury Povich.
And ladies, you deserve a man that's going to focus on you and you alone. Don't sell yourself short because a guy has a nice smile. You'll be treated the way you allow people to treat you. This is the wrong foot to start off on.
Third no-no (and this one is really for everyone): Don't leave the house in your pajamas. Now, I don't know when exactly this became mainstream, but I have seen waaaaay too many women out and about in what is obviously sleepwear. Let's make no bones about it: this is tacky. It just is. And it's not like girls are stepping out in sexy satin numbers either. They are rolling out in plaid pajamas bottoms and a wife beater. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with sleeping in this. That pairing is one of my favorite boudoir ensembles (which could be one reason why I'm single, but that's another blog) . But going to the grocery store or class in that outfit with some mystery brown stain on the crotch. . . . Not happening. At least not with me. Mostly because I could pretty much guarantee that I would meet the man of my dreams while wearing sock monkey sleep pants.
Cliff notes version: going to the mailbox in pjs = acceptable. Going to the public library in pjs = unacceptable. I mean, no one is asking anyone to get all gussied up to run an errand. Just put some damned clothes on.
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