Lust.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
At this moment
I require a large sweatshirt, couch, jar of peanut butter and bowl of frosting.
I should be isolated from other humans at all costs.
There are Mother Rooms in this building, for women to pump when nursing. I personally advocate Sloth Rooms, for women to binge when cranky. Productivity would skyrocket.
I should be isolated from other humans at all costs.
There are Mother Rooms in this building, for women to pump when nursing. I personally advocate Sloth Rooms, for women to binge when cranky. Productivity would skyrocket.
In the land of baked goods
I work on the floor of carbohydrates. Donuts pounce at me in the kitchen. Coffee cake lurks in shadows. Bagels approach steathily, then fling themselves prostrate to beg at my feet. Most of the time, I'm quite content with my oatmeal and apple, but every now and then, I plunge headfirst into the sea of bakery items.
Although we are confronted daily by this constant parade of goodies, the paradox is that (with the exception of my skinny ass) the entire floor of my building is on a diet. It's rather horrifying. In their corporate version of "The Biggest Loser," they do weekly weigh-ins, calculate fat percentages, and have large sums of money riding on their ability to lose those extra inches. I have the great good fortune to sit right next to the kitchen, where I am continually entertained by a running dialogue concerning carbs, fat grams, calories, and points value as they microwave their frozen meals and gaze longingly at my peanut butter and jelly.
Needless to say, in this land of plentiful treats there is very little headway being made amongst the furtive, carb-lusting dieters. I witness the pilfered donuts, the "just one" chocolate that is suddenly five, the covert cookie consumption ("are those crumbs on your shirt, Sharon?!?").
Stop the madness, I say! Carbs are not the devil! What did the cute little donuts ever do to YOU? One bagel will not increase the size of your ass - four bagels might. One cookie is a delicious snack - ten cookies is gluttony.
Why are we taught to fear flour? Why banish entire food groups? When will our society accept that the only way to lose weight in a healthy fashion is to simply eat less and move more? Why do lazy Americans feel it necessary to pop high-priced "herbal" pills and suck down ridiculous "meal-replacement" shakes in order to gain a paltry sense of control over their increasing girths? Why must there always be a quick fix? What happened to eating vegetables, fruits, and foods that don't come from a box or a drive-thru? Why am I asking so many questions??
I hereby declare myself president of the National Carb Welfare League - protecting innocent carbohydrates everywhere.
I would rant more, but there's a bagel crawling up my leg that I must attend to.
Although we are confronted daily by this constant parade of goodies, the paradox is that (with the exception of my skinny ass) the entire floor of my building is on a diet. It's rather horrifying. In their corporate version of "The Biggest Loser," they do weekly weigh-ins, calculate fat percentages, and have large sums of money riding on their ability to lose those extra inches. I have the great good fortune to sit right next to the kitchen, where I am continually entertained by a running dialogue concerning carbs, fat grams, calories, and points value as they microwave their frozen meals and gaze longingly at my peanut butter and jelly.
Needless to say, in this land of plentiful treats there is very little headway being made amongst the furtive, carb-lusting dieters. I witness the pilfered donuts, the "just one" chocolate that is suddenly five, the covert cookie consumption ("are those crumbs on your shirt, Sharon?!?").
Stop the madness, I say! Carbs are not the devil! What did the cute little donuts ever do to YOU? One bagel will not increase the size of your ass - four bagels might. One cookie is a delicious snack - ten cookies is gluttony.
Why are we taught to fear flour? Why banish entire food groups? When will our society accept that the only way to lose weight in a healthy fashion is to simply eat less and move more? Why do lazy Americans feel it necessary to pop high-priced "herbal" pills and suck down ridiculous "meal-replacement" shakes in order to gain a paltry sense of control over their increasing girths? Why must there always be a quick fix? What happened to eating vegetables, fruits, and foods that don't come from a box or a drive-thru? Why am I asking so many questions??
I hereby declare myself president of the National Carb Welfare League - protecting innocent carbohydrates everywhere.
I would rant more, but there's a bagel crawling up my leg that I must attend to.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Put down the tiger and step away from the computer
Let me preface this with the fact that I love my brothers. I really do. As the youngest child, I firmly believe that the years of merciless beatings and relentless harassment were character-building. Were it not for their totally uncontained childhood insanity, I would not be the tough cookie I am today. In fact, I clearly recall running screaming through the forest, my brother in hot pursuit brandishing my father's chainsaw, thinking awesome...this will be really great for my developing sense of autonomy.
So thank you, brothers. Thank you.
One of them emailed me today for dating advice.
To be more specific, he emailed me to inquire whether he should post a new photo of himself on his online dating profile. Being a bossy know-it-all, I was perfectly happy to oblige. Upon review, I learned that one of the photos my brother is using to entice the cyber-ladies is a picture of himself grinning demonically while gripping a Heineken and a large stuffed tiger. Yes, that's my big brother. His question today was whether it would be a good idea to add a picture of himself grinning demonically while gripping a Corona and a large stuffed teddy bear.
Granted, I've been out of the game for awhile. I don't know what kind of broads are trolling the internet in search of dates these days. However, I'm fairly certain they won't be impressed with a wide variety of faux-animal-clutching, beer-guzzling portraits of oneself.
I informed him of this, and was quite thrilled to be able to utter the stern reprimand "you're not 21 anymore."
I fear retaliation.
So thank you, brothers. Thank you.
One of them emailed me today for dating advice.
To be more specific, he emailed me to inquire whether he should post a new photo of himself on his online dating profile. Being a bossy know-it-all, I was perfectly happy to oblige. Upon review, I learned that one of the photos my brother is using to entice the cyber-ladies is a picture of himself grinning demonically while gripping a Heineken and a large stuffed tiger. Yes, that's my big brother. His question today was whether it would be a good idea to add a picture of himself grinning demonically while gripping a Corona and a large stuffed teddy bear.
Granted, I've been out of the game for awhile. I don't know what kind of broads are trolling the internet in search of dates these days. However, I'm fairly certain they won't be impressed with a wide variety of faux-animal-clutching, beer-guzzling portraits of oneself.
I informed him of this, and was quite thrilled to be able to utter the stern reprimand "you're not 21 anymore."
I fear retaliation.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
...and your little cookies, too!
I hate this time of year.
Yes, it's beautiful outside, with the approach of spring beckoning me away from my computer, tempting me to frolick merrily in the streets, picking daisies from people's front lawns and hugging bunnies and whatnot. I'm talking about a far more sinister seasonal phenomenon - those evil temptresses in uniform: the Girl Scouts.
Back, little wenches! I mistrust your beseeching, cookie-laden cuteness! Curse your delicious snacks! What? You have a new lemony sandwich variety? Huh? Lady Down The Hall (always a malevolent purveyor of guilt-inducing sugar-laden treats) has 87 boxes sitting on her desk for hungry coworkers to pillage freely?
Wheee!
slobberdroolshovelblargh
How's a girl supposed to get any work done around here?
Yes, it's beautiful outside, with the approach of spring beckoning me away from my computer, tempting me to frolick merrily in the streets, picking daisies from people's front lawns and hugging bunnies and whatnot. I'm talking about a far more sinister seasonal phenomenon - those evil temptresses in uniform: the Girl Scouts.
Back, little wenches! I mistrust your beseeching, cookie-laden cuteness! Curse your delicious snacks! What? You have a new lemony sandwich variety? Huh? Lady Down The Hall (always a malevolent purveyor of guilt-inducing sugar-laden treats) has 87 boxes sitting on her desk for hungry coworkers to pillage freely?
Wheee!
slobberdroolshovelblargh
How's a girl supposed to get any work done around here?
Monday, March 3, 2008
Half-Assed Veggie Girl Saves the World
I'll be the first to admit it - I'm a pretty half-assed vegetarian. While I enjoy obsessing about veg recipes, touting the health benefits of a veg diet, and annoying my friends and family with continual anti-meat harrassment, frankly, I love me some sushi occasionally (It's just fish, right? Those floppy little suckers didn't even see it coming!).
Unlike scary, militant veggieheads, my own dietary aspirations are less the result of an all-consuming passion for animal welfare and more about the overwhelming horror I felt upon discovering the environmental effects of a meat-based diet. Thus the pro-veggie harassment of my nearest and dearest. I see it this way: wallow in blissful ignorance, or educate yourself. Take your pick. (Yes, annoying and self-righteous, aren't I? That's okay, I've been called worse.)
Read!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/27/weekinreview/27bittman.html
For the record, the person who wrote the New York Times article at the link above is not a vegetarian, nor am I advocating vegetarianism for anyone. I'd just like to point this out:
"the University of Chicago calculated that if Americans were to reduce meat consumption by just 20 percent, it would be as if we all switched from a standard sedan — a Camry, say — to the ultra-efficient Prius."
JUST 20 PERCENT, PEOPLE!! That's all I'm sayin'!
More highlights:
"...the United Nation’s Food and Agriculture Organization estimates that livestock production generates nearly a fifth of the world’s greenhouse gases — more than transportation."
"...assembly-line meat factories consume enormous amounts of energy, pollute water supplies, generate significant greenhouse gases and require ever-increasing amounts of corn, soy and other grains, a dependency that has led to the destruction of vast swaths of the world’s tropical rain forests."
"...the world’s total meat supply was 71 million tons in 1961. In 2007, it was estimated to be 284 million tons."
"Though some 800 million people on the planet now suffer from hunger or malnutrition, the majority of corn and soy grown in the world feeds cattle, pigs and chickens."
Veg out, people.
Unlike scary, militant veggieheads, my own dietary aspirations are less the result of an all-consuming passion for animal welfare and more about the overwhelming horror I felt upon discovering the environmental effects of a meat-based diet. Thus the pro-veggie harassment of my nearest and dearest. I see it this way: wallow in blissful ignorance, or educate yourself. Take your pick. (Yes, annoying and self-righteous, aren't I? That's okay, I've been called worse.)
Read!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/27/weekinreview/27bittman.html
For the record, the person who wrote the New York Times article at the link above is not a vegetarian, nor am I advocating vegetarianism for anyone. I'd just like to point this out:
"the University of Chicago calculated that if Americans were to reduce meat consumption by just 20 percent, it would be as if we all switched from a standard sedan — a Camry, say — to the ultra-efficient Prius."
JUST 20 PERCENT, PEOPLE!! That's all I'm sayin'!
More highlights:
"...the United Nation’s Food and Agriculture Organization estimates that livestock production generates nearly a fifth of the world’s greenhouse gases — more than transportation."
"...assembly-line meat factories consume enormous amounts of energy, pollute water supplies, generate significant greenhouse gases and require ever-increasing amounts of corn, soy and other grains, a dependency that has led to the destruction of vast swaths of the world’s tropical rain forests."
"...the world’s total meat supply was 71 million tons in 1961. In 2007, it was estimated to be 284 million tons."
"Though some 800 million people on the planet now suffer from hunger or malnutrition, the majority of corn and soy grown in the world feeds cattle, pigs and chickens."
Veg out, people.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Beware the Wild-Eyed Newlywed
My husband and I have now been married just over four months (for those of you who enjoy fractions, you may realize that's one-third of a YEAR! 'Til death do us part - hot damn, we're on our way!) and since we returned from our honeymoon I've noticed something - people love asking "How's married life?"
Now, generally this innocuous social pleasantry causes me to respond slightly like Tony the Tiger, with an immense, slightly freakish grin and a "Grrrreat!" (although I don't subsequently provide the fortified frosted breakfast deliciousness). However, after I responded to this question several times, I began to see a pattern forming - I realized that with each inquiry my answer was growing increasingly enthusiastic. It didn't feel like it was enough to respond with a simple "Great" - I found myself expounding upon it, haranguing passers-by in the hallways, regaling innocent, inquiring individuals with joyously weepy details of my matrimonial bliss, actually uttering words like "soulmate" and "eternity" next to the watercooler. This never failed to result in me wandering stupid-faced and starry-eyed back to my desk, leaving in my wake an overwhelmed and regretful coworker who will doubtlessly refrain from initiating conversation in the future.
After several weeks of this, I had another epiphany - I noticed that, more often than not, the people doing the asking were single females. It was as if, upon returning from my honeymoon, all the wide-eyed singletons (thank you, Bridget Jones) came flocking to my cubicle, eager to delve into the mystical world of the Married Person. The same women who had once worked with me as a lonely, wistful (or cranky and bitter, depending on your perspective) single girl - with whom I swapped stories of dating dilemmas ("That bastard! He did WHAT?!") and bemoaned the sorry state of Los Angeleno manhood - were suddenly different. It was subtle, but I sensed it - a divide, a lapse in the sisterhood.
I hadn't changed...right? It's still me, just with a band of metal on my finger. Yet it seemed that, in meeting and marrying my husband, I had crossed some invisible line of communication in the world of women. I was now One Of Them - the most mysterious of all beasts in this town - a dating success story.
Is this why I wax romantic in my replies? Is this my unconscious response to the pressures of representing the Possibility? See, girls? Good ones are out there! You too can succeed!
Or am I just an asshole who likes to rub it in? Lookee here! I got me a HUSBAND, bitches! Isn't he neat and shiny?
I recently has the chance to turn this around on a male coworker who got married several months before me. He was marching purposefully down the hall, looking rather harried, when I wandered out of the kitchen, guzzling coffee and clinging to a handful of Girl Scout cookies like my life depended on it (yes, I earn my paycheck). In a caffeine-and-sugar-induced blur, I threw it out there - "Hey! How's married life?" He stopped, looked at me with tired eyes, and sighed "It's...all right. I feel like I've been married for ten years already." Rather taken aback at this lackluster response (and precariously balancing Thin Mints), I tread lightly: "I feel like I've been married for ten years, too - in a good way" I nervously chuckled. He smiled wearily and said "You're really lucky."
Then he scurried along his way.
And, you know, I am.
Now, generally this innocuous social pleasantry causes me to respond slightly like Tony the Tiger, with an immense, slightly freakish grin and a "Grrrreat!" (although I don't subsequently provide the fortified frosted breakfast deliciousness). However, after I responded to this question several times, I began to see a pattern forming - I realized that with each inquiry my answer was growing increasingly enthusiastic. It didn't feel like it was enough to respond with a simple "Great" - I found myself expounding upon it, haranguing passers-by in the hallways, regaling innocent, inquiring individuals with joyously weepy details of my matrimonial bliss, actually uttering words like "soulmate" and "eternity" next to the watercooler. This never failed to result in me wandering stupid-faced and starry-eyed back to my desk, leaving in my wake an overwhelmed and regretful coworker who will doubtlessly refrain from initiating conversation in the future.
After several weeks of this, I had another epiphany - I noticed that, more often than not, the people doing the asking were single females. It was as if, upon returning from my honeymoon, all the wide-eyed singletons (thank you, Bridget Jones) came flocking to my cubicle, eager to delve into the mystical world of the Married Person. The same women who had once worked with me as a lonely, wistful (or cranky and bitter, depending on your perspective) single girl - with whom I swapped stories of dating dilemmas ("That bastard! He did WHAT?!") and bemoaned the sorry state of Los Angeleno manhood - were suddenly different. It was subtle, but I sensed it - a divide, a lapse in the sisterhood.
I hadn't changed...right? It's still me, just with a band of metal on my finger. Yet it seemed that, in meeting and marrying my husband, I had crossed some invisible line of communication in the world of women. I was now One Of Them - the most mysterious of all beasts in this town - a dating success story.
Is this why I wax romantic in my replies? Is this my unconscious response to the pressures of representing the Possibility? See, girls? Good ones are out there! You too can succeed!
Or am I just an asshole who likes to rub it in? Lookee here! I got me a HUSBAND, bitches! Isn't he neat and shiny?
I recently has the chance to turn this around on a male coworker who got married several months before me. He was marching purposefully down the hall, looking rather harried, when I wandered out of the kitchen, guzzling coffee and clinging to a handful of Girl Scout cookies like my life depended on it (yes, I earn my paycheck). In a caffeine-and-sugar-induced blur, I threw it out there - "Hey! How's married life?" He stopped, looked at me with tired eyes, and sighed "It's...all right. I feel like I've been married for ten years already." Rather taken aback at this lackluster response (and precariously balancing Thin Mints), I tread lightly: "I feel like I've been married for ten years, too - in a good way" I nervously chuckled. He smiled wearily and said "You're really lucky."
Then he scurried along his way.
And, you know, I am.
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