Vigilant Gourmet

Eating is the most political, most expensive, most time-consuming activity I engage in these days.  It is also single-handedly the most frustrating and depressing part of my life.  And I know that I am not alone. Not at all. My ex used to remark that he wished humans could just take a pill for nutrition and forgo the burden of eating. I never used to agree, but now I think there may be some logic to that wish. Eating is scary act, where even drinking tap water is a risky proposition. Eating “right” changes daily and becomes an uphill battle of money, willpower, and time.

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The weirdness of Reno

Reno is a weird city.  Reno is a buffed, polished guy.  You know--the body-builder type, whose complete lack of a personality leaves you cold, but still you can't help but look? Yup, that's Reno. Reno is tan, and taut, no wasted colors on this town of beating sun and gleaming metal.  Any available square foot or item of historical  interest is given over slot machines.  Seriously--pump gas & play Slots at 711.  Get an ice cream cone & play a little video poker.  It's all about ONE thing:  Money, money, here.  Like the body builder whose just about muscle, Reno has no further depth. 

Our hotel is a concrete oasis of 27 floors, and several hundred thousand square feet. It has a Casino (Of Course!), a mall, a dozen restaurants, a video arcade, go-karts, and more.  But, it started to feel like a cruise ship after a few days, and Friday we were ready to jump ship. 

Armed with the local Indie paper, we headed off in search of Thai food.  The first place gave new meaning to hole-in-the-wall: a windowless enclave in the middle of a sketchy rent by the hour motel.  We didn't slow down.  The second place on our list had two fire trucks, an ambulance, and a police car in front, lights flashing.  We kept driving.  We ended up at Claim Jumpers, a western chain that looks just like a dozen others around the country, and whose food was interchangeable with that we had at the hotel. 

While eating, the sky opened up, and being true Oregonians, we barely noticed.  Native Reno chicken littles, however, ran around declaring the end of the world, wringing their hands over a half hour of flooding (due to their lack of drains), and driving like they were being recruited for "Day After Tomorrow 2." 

We took refuge from their SUV water-skiing antics in a Borders.   I can't believe I'm typing this, but I was a little burnt out on books, having had books, books, and more books for three straight days.  Then, it hit me as I wandered around--I KNOW her, and oh! That one! I saw HER too, and Oh! I heard HER speak! Imagine the thrill of seeing so many books of people I've met at the conference!  Suddenly Reno didn't seem so bad . . . .

To-Donuts

I like to start every morning with a full cup of expectations.  It’s the type A breakfast for champions.  Guilty flakes with a side of stressmeal and to-donuts. My therapist says that my problem is that I’m a perfectionist and can’t see that my standards are unrealistic.  Ha! I say! I’m just ambitious! And time impaired! It’s not my fault that the world won’t listen to me and increase the number of daylight hours and decrease my need for sleep.  When I get to heaven, God and I are going to have a very long chat about optimization of human potential through increased productivity. And this whole calories = pounds thing–I think we could do without it.   Better we fuel the productivity revolution with cheesecake.  I’d better start working on some flip charts. This will be incredibly useful if God does indeed turn out to bear a scary resemblance to Ross Perot

Anyway, the over-achiever in me won’t quit despite medical advice, and evidence that reducing my expectations of myself would probably be beneficial in the long term.  Not to mention make me a nicer person to be around.  But it’s this over-achiever in me that was giddy, yes giddy at JellyBelly’s post today.  Man, I love unrealistically huge to-do lists. Which I too, insist on making, like a sick compulsion despite my inability to cross anything off.  Here’s mine (and yes, hitting the road is sounding better all the time–challenge is could I possibly manage to not have a to-do list for the year):

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Beware the Return of the 80's

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

PLEASE POST

Recently, fashion police have noted an alarming trend.  It seems a notorious gang of fashion criminals, known widely as “The 80's” have resurfaced and are wrecking havoc on the lives of many innocent Americans.  Citizens need to be uber-vigilant against these nefarious criminals as they can be found in beauty magazines, discount stores, high end emporium, and salons alike. For most of the late 90s and early part of this century, the 80's could only be found at remote and isolated locations, South Dakota, Line Dancing Bars, Trailer Parks, the Goodwill, occasionally at a Mormon or Baptist church gathering, and at certain discount store chains.  But they were by and large hidden by a sea of black clothing and straight hair, masking their re-infiltration into everyday society.

The 80's re-emergence can no longer be ignored.  Just last night, an innocent Salem, Oregon woman went to her local Fred Meyer and was assaulted by displays of leg warmers, hair crimpers, fishnet stockings, large plastic earrings, and polo shirts.  This is becoming near epidemic.  Fashion magazines are showcasing unflattering hairstyles all prominently featuring bangs.  Shoulder pads are gradually creeping back into women’s suits.  Rhinestones and glitter are being used to excess again. 

Horrors, of horror, mullets are becoming more common outside of North & South Dakota and the deep south. Make-up shades have been inching more towards neon for the last few seasons, and now one no longer has to look hard to find instances of blue eyeshadow, racoon eyes, and sticky lips. 

Those who were children last time the 80s wrecked havoc on American culture are particularly at risk for succumbing to the 80s sinister allure.  They are drawn in by the kitsch and nostalgia of My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake motifs.  They start small, a Carebear’s tee shirt here, an ID bracelet there, but before you know it, they are developing a unhealthy fondness for mixing floral prints, and driving a Hello Kitty Ferrari. 

Those children who are now parents themselves are especially targeted by The 80's.  Nostalgic toys and board games were all the range this past holiday season, and unfortunately, parents fell hook, line, and sinker for the intense pressure to abuse Nostalgia. Board games and cabbage patch dolls are fine toys, but for the love of all that is decent, don’t subject your child to Rubbix cubes and the annoying electronic game Simon.  Crimping your child’s hair and dressing him or her in Polo Shirts and V-neck sweaters is NEVER acceptable parenting practices.

Here are some steps you can take to protect yourself and your loved one from the return of the 80s:

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The most dramatic Apprentice Boardroom yet . . .

MSNBC - Bradford's firing: Absolutely deserved

Last season, on the Apprentice, I was drawn in by its newness and novelty, and also because it seemed that here were 16 people who actually wanted careers, not acting gigs. But, the luster has faded as Bill, the "winner" is off to shill for Trump, not as a "CEO" as promised, but instead as a spokesperson for Brand Trump, honored not with a great career opportunity but instead with the chance to worship at Trump Alter and make special appearances on this Season's Apprentice.

So is this season worth watching?

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Athens, we have a problem

MSNBC - Hamm perseveres for boo-tiful silver

What the heck is up with olympic gymanastics judging? And what is with all the commentators calling for Paul Hamm to give up his gold?

I have enjoyed watching these olympics more than just about any I can remember.  It is with renewed appreciation for the simple joy of watching the olympics that I have embraced these two weeks in August, after a seven year hiatus as a sports fan. But I have to take issue with an archaic system of gymnastics judging.

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R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Freak and I have been discussing respect all evening. Its interesting how differently we grew up. Freak had to earn respect, from his grandparents, from his brothers, from his superiors in the military. My family didn’t really operate like that, and neither have any of my relationships. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that respect has played a very limited, if any, role in my life up until recently.

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