Saturday, September 25, 2010

Reading is bringing me nothing but trouble

I have no idea what magazine Amy Jo is currently reading...Ruin Everything Erin Likes Monthly, perhaps? Oh wait, it's the Nutrition Action newsletter of some sort. I just asked her the name of it and now I'm listening to an explanation of what it is, what it tells you, when it was founded, how many pages it is...well, I'm exaggerating, but she does have a tendency to answer so much more than the simple question you ask. But she puts a roof over my head, so she can tell me whatever she wants.

Anyway, back to her little habit of reading. She reads all these articles with facts that someone has decided are helpful. In my mind, sample article titles include: Breathing Causes Cancer, Why You Should Stop Doing Everything You're Doing Now, Do You Still Like This Thing? Well, You Shouldn't.

Some of her revelations are easy to get behind. Like switching to organic meat. I'm down with that. As long as you're not trying to turn me into a vegetarian (fat chance). This revelation included her coming home and telling me that she noticed that whenever she goes into Whole Foods, she never sees any fat people.

This morning she has copied me an article on artificial food coloring. She makes me copies a lot...but then she also reads excerpts from said copies so I rarely have to do my own reading. She's reading me something else right now, while I'm typing. Apparently artificial food coloring is made from something baby ducks or petroleum. And it causes blindness, leprosy, spontaneous combustion and poor rainfall. However, I enjoy food that has color. Red and blue are two of my favorite flavors.

And what do we get to do with all this new information? Read labels. Have you ever read a label? They're boring and practically written in German or Aramaic (those seem equally complicated in my mind). Do you know what takes so much longer when you have to read labels? Grocery shopping. I hate grocery shopping. Grocery shopping is so temporary. We buy food, we eat it and it's gone. It's not like buying clothes. I can wear a shirt again and again...I can only eat some macaroni and cheese once. On a separate note, due to my dieting I can't tell you the last time I had mac & cheese. I miss it a lot. Probably like most people miss a loved one who has moved away. However, I've lost 19 pounds (and counting) so I guess I can't complain. Maybe if the Nutrisystem macaroni and cheese didn't taste like death...(see what happens when I don't have the opportunity to blog regularly? you get a crazy post that's ALL over the place).

Back to Amy Jo's magazine, which just recommended some sweet potato fries...which sounds good to me. Amy Jo is not the problem. It's the people writing these reports, publishing them, and mailing them to her. She's merely a pawn in their evil scheme.

I'm the type of person who doesn't care what's in a hotdog. I've never been concerned about the grade of meat used by the fine people at Taco Bell. Find me a tastier $0.89 taco--I dare you. Whenever someone says, "do you know what's in that?" I like to reply with, "no, but it's delicious."

I also believe that basically everything causes cancer. Doesn't it seem that way sometimes? Every few weeks a new study comes out where they reveal an item that "helps prevent cancer," and then a few weeks after that they have to take it all back because apparently that item now causes cancer. We can't win and we should probably stop trying.

On another note, my friend Amy mentioned the other day what a great de-motivational speaker I am.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Well that's an interesting stance

I was sitting in traffic the other day, and naturally I began looking at the bumper stickers on the cars around me. I saw this one, "Unless you're a hemorrhoid, get off my ass!" OK, I get what they're going for with that--obviously they don't like people riding their bumper; who does? But doesn't that statement sound slightly pro-hemorrhoid? Unless you're a hemorrhoid, as though hemorrhoids are welcome and almost expected.
That's curious...quite curious.

PS: I tried to upload a picture of this bumper sticker, but the blog was not having it.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

There's a time and a place

I have a friend who is getting married in less than a week. Last night was her bachelorette dinner & personal shower. I'm usually the wild gift giver at personal showers. Don't get me wrong, I always pick a quality item (usually from Victoria's Secret) but if anyone at the shower is giving you a costume, dice or crotchless anything--it's probably me. However, I do try to pick things that the person will like. And I knew that my friend would not really be into anything like that. Save the leather and handcuffs for another shower.

So I got her a nice gift I thought she'd like (and she did). Then I remembered (from my college days of randomly taking people to Hustler) that at Hustler they had these underwear that had guys names on them. I thought that was kind of silly and fun but not so crazy that she'd never use it (and they probably cost a couple bucks, no huge waste). I had to go to my grandma's house anyway, and it's on the opposite side of town (not too far from Hustler) so I thought I'd swing in and grab a pair.

I pulled into the parking lot and there was a decent number of cars there, and a guy in the parking space facing mine on his phone or something; I didn't think anything of it. I went inside and began my search. Well, first of all they didn't have underwear with the guy's name on them. And he's got a normal name, it's not like I was looking for panties that said "Sebastian" or something. That was disappointing, but then I looked at the price tag--$19.99?! For $20 I expect a product that more than one person can see me in. I quickly look through the rest of the stuff to see if there was anything that might make a nice addition to my gift. Nope. So I left.

When I went to my car, I discovered that the guy in the other car was still there...only now he was reading. Reading a magazine. A magazine with the telltale tri-fold page. What is going on in your life that you can't wait to get your porno magazine back to your home or hotel room? Do you really need to read it in your non-tinted window car, in the store parking lot? I guess there must have been a really good article in there. It was so hard not to stare, but I refrained. I figure the last guy you want to make accidental eye contact with is the creeper (or one of the creepers) looking at porn in the Hustler parking lot.

Space Race

Was there some rich white guy meeting that we didn't know about where they all secretly decided to get super interested in space all of ...