Unnecessary Commentary

So, yeah. Day 4.

I want to write about a couple different topics today.

FACEBOOK

So, a friend, as in my friend's ex-husband, posted on Facebook, or FB. There was a long thread of responses, which is always a score, right? Anyhoo, I posted a comment, and my friend's ex-husband's girlfriend "liked" it. I've never met her, but I can't help but feeling a bit like a traitor. Commiserating with the other woman. I realize I didn't directly reach out to her and say, like my comment, please, but maybe I did by posting on her boyfriend's wall?


TAMPONS

So, if you like to track women's "periods" I am sitting on a big globule of punctuation right now. TMI? Well, one friend I used to work with(a self proclaimed homosexual, although I think he's bi) liked to mentally track the ends of declarative statements (periods) of all his female coworkers. So, like, for instance, if I said I felt weak, he would say, "Are you on your period?" with a deadpan expression. He just wanted to know. Then he would say, "So and So's (identity obscured to protect privacy) period should be next week, so maybe you're PMSing. Really.

Anyway, this topic was about tampons, not the monthly bill. So, I don't like Tampax. BTW, to all you men that don't know the difference between brands and actual product names, Tampax is a brand of tampon, not a maxi pad. Kotex is a brand too. It's tampons or pads. Anyway, I got this box of Playtex sport tampons. They have inspirational saying on them, like fortune cookies. Really. No jokes, bro. Like because of this added bonus, I'm going to make sure to buy this brand again. So, here's my take on it. Instead of adding "in bed" at the end of the phrase, you say "when sticking this wad of cotton (and rayon and polyester and Polysorbate 20 ((isn't that in ice cream? (((no, I know it's polysorbate 80))) )) ) up your cunt.

Oh, I'm sorry, did the word cunt offend you? I'm not using it in a derogatory way. You should read this book - Cunt by Inga Muscio. It's very inspiring, and it's about owning the word cunt.

Anyhoo, getting back to the tampon phrases:

"Be passionate" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Care about efforts not outcomes" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Stay focused on what matters most" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Go play. I've got your back" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt. (whew! That's I relief!)

"Reach for the finish line" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"The sky's the limit" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Play by your own rules" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"What's your game plan" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Neither one of us are giver uppers" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Go, fight, win!" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Go with your gut" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"Sports builds character" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.

"The score doesn't tell the whole story" when sticking this wad of cotton up your cunt.


Okay, I had trouble writing this because I was laughing so hard. Yes, I was laughing at my own jokes. I need to quit while I'm ahead.

Speaking of Supplements

So, let's talk about my digestive system today. It will be great practice for when I'm 85 and that's all I will ever want to talk about.

I have been having this issue with exercise. I'm lazy. Wait, no, that's not the issue we are going to discuss today. For several years, whenever I start exercising, I start out fine. I get tired and achey, but I keep going. When I get to the point where I start pushing harder, I get sick. It's like a cold or flu type thing, and it lasts from a day to a week or more. Every time. I thought that maybe I could exercise while unemployed and not have this problem. So I tried it, and I was sick for a few days. When I felt better, I went out for a couple drinks. The next day I had a relapse and felt even worse for about four days!

So, here's what I've been doing. I go for a jog with my husband, The Food Pimp, or TFP. This is great for him because it's his warmup before he goes running for 10 or 15 miles. So we go through our neighborhood and down the hill towards Balboa Park. When we get to the bottom of the hill with the gnarly intersection, I turn around and jog back home. I go faster, but I'm still jogging. I try to make it all the way to two or three blocks before home, and then I walk. When I get home I do a few push ups, maybe crunches or not, some simple free weight stuff with my little green 5 pounders. That's about it. I just kind of increase little by little.

I started researching online. What I usually found was that it was allergies, asthma, weak lungs, bronchitis, stuff like that. I do have allergies, and sometimes I would take allergy pills daily, but that never worked. I tried a couple of times to use an inhaler before jogging, because there's this exercise induced asthma. That didn't work.

I generally would get weak and dizzy at work if I had been pushing myself hard or not eating or sleeping right, or whatever. Of course, it would be worse if I had been exercising. I started taking vitamins a couple years ago and that seemed to help somewhat with the dizziness. It didn't help with the exercise flu thing, though.

So, the last time I looked this thing up online, I found whole thread about probiotics. It was a revelation. Yogurt. Like the Jamie Lee Curtis commercials. There was comment after comment from people being so excited that they were not the only one and that there was a solution to the problem!

So, the deal is, without the proper flora in your system (because I have tons of fauna pass through - going south, that is, not north, thank you) when starting exercise or stepping it up, more fat needs to be metabolized, which is one of the main objectives of exercising. So if you have a shitty lifestyle or diet with junk food, preservatives a lot of alcohol, etc, or you don't have the right bacteria in your gut, then you may have a lot of toxins stored in your fat. So, with increased exercise, there is increased kidney and liver function, and some toxins get "backed up" into your blood stream.

So, I went to the stores looking for probiotic tablets, which they are not widely available yet, and some can be pretty expensive. I ended up going to Jamie Lee Curtis route. Activia. It was not too pricey, and it had that 14 day guarantee and all. So, I got blueberry and peach, I think. So, I went home and ate one. It tasted fine. I sat back to see what would happen. Terrible bloating and gas. Horrible gas. I mean, it probably could be used in a gas chamber to at least knock someone unconscious, and then when they threw up they would choke to death. I felt terrible, and I felt especially bad for the FP, who had to inhale these noxious fumes. It lasted for like 12 hours.

The next day, when the FP saw the tub of Activia come out of the fridge, he said, "Oh no!" and ran for cover. I didn't get anything this time, except for a slight gurgling.

I ate this Activia for four days. In these four days, I did not take one shit. I think I tried, maybe squoze a rabbit pellet or two out, but no relieving dumps. Something happened after the fourth day, and I didn't have Activia for one or two days. But then I started again, and ate it for another week. Nothing. I was quite plugged up. I finally stopped eating it, and switched to greek yogurt, which is way more delicious anyway, and after a couple more days I took a glorious shit. I mean a rainbow came out of my ass, and it glowed gold from the pot and a leprechaun tried to claim it.

I just don't get it though. The SNL skit about Activia is that it makes you diarrhea your pants. I'm always weird and backwards, though, so I guess that makes sense. I tried to google "Activia and constipation", and all I could find was that it alleviated normal people's constipation within a day or two of starting the Activia regimen.

So, I've been eating greek yogurt, that pourable yogurt drink or regular old Yoplait when there's nothing else. The other day I also bought these probiotic tablets that were on sale so that if we run out of yogurt I have something.

I started exercising again this week. This is fourth day of some kind of exercise. I haven't gotten sick so far. I'm going to see how far I can push this, since I don't really need to be well for any reason in particular, besides writing this blog every day and the other two blogs every few days. So, I'll keep you posted.

New & Exciting!

So, when I start something new, I am all gung ho about it, and then after a short time, I lose interest or I just plateau or hate it because I can't get any farther. Somehow, I managed to keep the food blog alive, although there have been long absences. The second blog is fairly new, so I am chugging along with that one. Since no one reads it and it's really coming from a dark place, I don't feel the need to post on that one as often.

This new third blog o' mine is supposed to be a daily musings, so let's see how many days I can go before I don't post!

Day #2 (my favorite number because I'm juvenile like that)

I wasn't mad. Very annoyed though. Irritated as well. I went into the kitchen, and there was a vegetable oil slick on the counter that had spilled onto the floor as well. It was that fucking overpriced 123 brand oil I bought at the neighborhood Mexican store last week. I didn't even know it still existed. So, when I bought it, I took it home to cook. When I pulled the plastic ring to open it, the whole top of the mouth came off with it. I removed the ring and put the whole thing back on the bottle. I think I wanted to hide it so I would have a bottle of oil at home if I needed it, and also, so it wouldn't get knocked over and Exxon Valdez all over the kitchen.

The next day, the bottle was gone. My husband, TFP (the Food Pimp, which you understand if you read my food blog), had taken it to work. He's a private chef, and he mainly teaches cooking classes at apartment complexes in the clubhouse for the residents. So, he takes whatever he needs from the kitchen. I was fine with the bottle gone. It was out of my life.

Fast forward about a week later to today. There's that damn bottle again, laying sideways on the kitchen counter with half the oil covering the counter. I was pissed. It was like a poltergeist, that 123 oil. I yelled "fuck." TFP asked from the living room futon, "what?" I replied, "this stupid oil with the broken top spilled all over the place, and it's a pain in the ass to clean up." No answer.

No answer. Whenever there's some irritating occurence like this, there is often no answer. Not even an, "oh" or "that sucks" or even an "I didn't do it". I didn't spill the oil. The most likely candidates were Stinksy (the male cat) or TFP. So one of them might have cleaned it up or helped a little. Even if they didn't admit to it, one of them could have brought me a towel or rag or oil boom or something to act like they were helping.

Here's the thing. I married this man. I love him to death. He's my favorite person in the world. But he's a slob. He doesn't care about a messy dirty environment, really. I am not a neat freak by any means, but I don't like living in squalor. Sometimes it almost gets to that point in our apartment before it's remedied. Before, when we were younger and partied more, it would get to that point for several days before we cleaned. Now, usually before that point, I need to clean. The FP's tolerance for a dirty messy apartment is higher than mine, so I usually cave first and clean one little area like it's my safe zone. I don't expect him to jump in and start cleaning every time I do. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn't.

I married him with the knowledge I couldn't change him. Part of why he's got such a great personality is his oblivion to everyday household life. He's like beyond that. Seriously. No sarcasm. You know, like great artists who were crazy with schizophrenia or bipolar or obsessive compulsive or whatever. The FP leaves cabinet doors open, doesn't put tops back on condiments or toothpaste, leaves the bathroom light on (which is annoying because the noise of the fan irritates me). He's rough with appliances and stuff. When he gets out of the car, the way he drags his ass on the seat rips the material on the seat. When we had a bedframe, he would flop onto the bed, and eventually the frame on his side of the bed caved, so it was lopsided. He leaves a residue of hair product on things.

I can't go around behind him and tell him to finish the cycle, close the door, switch off the light, put the cap on, figure a new way to exit the car, wash his hands after he touches his hair or applies product. I would just be nagging. He doesn't learn lessons and I know that. But can't I have license to get irritated every once in a while?!

Women who marry men and think they can break them, and who can't live with the annoying habits, usually are disappointed because they feel like they failed. I wouldn't want TFP to want to change me, with all my faults. Oh, and I have so many. I sometimes catch myself doing one of my annoying habits, and it pisses me off. I can't afford a therapist, so I write blogs instead.

I think when we were in college, the FP stepped on the prong of his belt. You know, his clothes were all over the floor and he didn't see it. It jammed right into his foot. He was a runner, so that sucked more than if it had happened to a run of the mill person who mainly needs their foot to walk. So, he said he learned his lesson there. Several years later, I remember seeing his belt on the floor, prong erect, saluting me, saying, see, he forgot all about me!

Here's the tradeoff though. He's good or great at everything he does. Okay, every once in a while there's something he's not good at, so he usually doesn't continue to try at it. But, any sport he's tried, he kicks ass. Cooking - he's one of the best cooks I know. Music - maybe he started off slow with guitar, but he's very adept now at the instrument - he blows me away as I have regressed if anything. When he listens to music, he can pick out individual parts and analyze them. If the guitar is a Fender Strat, he can tell. He can figure out what effects are being used. He remembers set lists to shows he's seen and shows he's played. He's really intelligent, although his shtick is that he acts dumb for laughs. His analytical ability is really highly underrated.

So, if he reads this, he'll either be pissed or embarrassed, or he will enjoy the attention. Because doesn't everyone love to be written about?

Anyway, I wasn't mad at him. I was mad at myself. Why didn't I just set the precedent of being a nag early in the relationship?

Christening the Blog

So, I already have two blogs. One is all about food I eat. It's called "The Pork Porn Pages." I know, who the fuck wants to read that? Some people do. I try to make it humorous. The other blog is like a secret page that I write for myself. It's about myself in relation to my dad, who I suspect has Borderline Personality Disorder, or BPD. It's called "My Personal Story - Putting a Name to My Dad's BPD". This one is more serious. I feel strange about actively sharing this one because I really don't know much about BPD, so I'm speculating. Also, the subject matter is very personal. Very heavy reading, if anyone were to read it. I think, to date, either zero, one, two or three people have read it.

So, why another blog? Well, for one reason, I'm unemployed and I need to keep myself occupied. I don't really have friends currently, well, not ones that live in the same city that I talk to regularly or hang out with. So, I can have a one sided conversation here about things that come up during the day. I sometimes annoy my husband, TFP (the Food Pimp) with my rambling, so this is another outlet.

So, I use the word "so" a lot to start paragraphs. I also use "anyway" or "anyhoo". I have a degree in writing, but please don't point out my improper use of grammar, misspellings, improper use of tenses and point of view - which is usually first person.

Here's my musings for the day:

CARS

I walked to Albertson's this evening, which is a little over a mile away. I saw three Volkswagen GTIs, two red, one white. Did you ever notice how most GTIs are always shiny and clean with fancy rims, even though they are this tiny car?

On the corner of 19th and Broadway, I passed by a pretty grey newer model Honda Element. When I looked across the street caddy corner, or kitty corner as I prefer, I saw an identical grey Honda Element.

On Broadway and 16th, a black Nissan Cube and a white Nissan Cube passed each other. The white one was dirty and had a white girl driving it. The black one was clean and shiny and had a black guy driving it. Okay, I wasn't sure if it was a black guy, but I wanted it to be a black guy. As I was musing over this, another black Nissan Cube drove by, and there was definitely a black woman driving it. Closure.




MEETING STRANGERS


First incident

I usually leave the front door open in the apartment during the day, leaving the security door locked. I was about to brush my teeth, when I heard someone walk up my stairs and yell hello. The voice almost sounded like the FP's voice, so I thought he came back because he forgot something. It was some strange guy instead, maybe Hawaiian. He had a clipboard, so I thought maybe he had a package to deliver, in the literal sense, mind you. So, I walked out, and I realized he was selling subscriptions to the Union Tribune (good luck with that dead end job, buddy). Okay, so even if I knew what he wanted, the door was open and I couldn't have hid once I saw him.

So, he showed me pictures of him and his cute little daughter and cute old mother. Weird, I began to think it was a religious thing or save the children charity. But no, newspapers. He gave me a paper, then he gave me the spiel. It's like dirt cheap. Less than $2 a week or something. I don't read the paper. If there is something in the paper I need to read, I can usually find it online. I gave him the I'm unemployed spiel. He said it was cheap, and that I needed to stay informed about the local food scene and that there were coupons. I said that I read about the "local scene" online and I need to reference more publications than just the local paper, some of the publications being only online.

That was a lie. I honestly don't really keep abreast of the local food scene too well. It's a flaw of mine. I just don't feel the urge. Anyway, I told him I just don't read the paper and I was sorry. But he said it was really cheap. I said I had really bad financial problems, and his parting words as he was descending the stairwell were, I live in my car.





Second incident

I was walking up the hill back home from Albertson's, and this cute family was standing on the sidewalk ahead of me next to the weird 2 story hovel that I had entertained the idea of renting when a for lease sign went up in front of it. They were kind of looking at me, as anyone standing on the sidewalk looks at someone who is passing them. I said hi. You know how there's often the greeting standoff, like who will pull the trigger first? I was almost halfway past them with direct eye contact, so I had to say hi. The dad asked me if I worked at my former place of employment (which I can't reveal for the sake of anonymity). I said that I used to, and he said he knew because he worked with one of the purveyors that delivered there. I said, his face looked familiar, but I didn't know why. All the while, I was still walking, so he said bye and I did too.

As I rounded the corner, I thought I should have been more chatty - asked his name, asked if they lived in the dump that I had briefly covetted, asked if they still delivered to my former place of employment. It would be nice to make acquaintance with people in our age group who live around the corner. But, alas, I don't really have friends and I'm out of practice how to make new ones. Maybe I'll see them on a walk down the street another time.