Basic Human Rights

So there is this thing on Facebook with red equal signs and blue crosses. I am sure you all have noticed. 

I am not so good at practicing what I preach. I really truly believe that everyone is entitled to their own political viewpoint and that this country was built on that belief. I don't hate people who disagree with me. I don't just not hate them, I respect them. Everyone gets to believe what they want to believe.

But. Shit. I am a hypocrite. I unfriended someone for their blue cross message today. 

Marriage. There is the church's view of marriage and the legal definition of marriage. They are two totally separate things. 

The church, by separation of church and state, gets to believe whatever they want. I have the choice to subscribe or not subscribe to those beliefs. That is what makes this country great...freedom of religion. Among other things. They can choose to recognize or not recognize unions under their religion.

Marriage itself...that is a legal contract in the eyes of the government. Nothing else. 

If a religion chooses to exclude same sex marriage from their church, that's OK. That is just fine. They have no obligation to include anyone. 

Our government is a different story. They are obligated to accept EVERYONE. It is our government. We have done this already. Women, african americans, EVERYONE. This is what I don't get. I live in the country of the free, the melting pot. Yet we are still discriminating. We are still choosing to exclude people's basic rights.

I am a straight person living, unmarried, with a man. I am not allowed health insurance coverage because we are not married. If he were to end up in the hospital tomorrow, I would have zero say in his medical care. If we had children and he chose to leave me, based on our current situation, I would walk away with my car and our kids. And we have the choice to get married. We are willingly making these choices.

There are people who are not. 

I choose to unfriend people not because they disagree with me on religious beliefs. I choose to unfriend people not because they don't agree with the gay lifestyle, being gay, whatever. I choose to unfriend people because they are supporting legislature that dehumanizes people. They are choosing to not make every man and woman in this country equal citizens, equal human beings. 

We have fought this fight already. Every single human being is equal in the eyes of the law. Their rights are equal. 

This entire post makes me wonder, why are we even having this conversation? Nobody wants to change anyone's religion. They just want to be able to legally care for the people they love. 

And maybe have an extravagant wedding that I totally want to be invited to. But, mostly the other stuff.

Bitching about bitching.

I am having a day. And I am going to rant about it because I have done nothing but listen to people rant all day and now I have no one to rant to.

I am very set in my ways. I want to come home, have dinner and relax. I have my shows (yes, I am an old woman knitting on the couch watching my stories) that I like to watch and just unwind. I play on the internet, play cell phone games, read, whatever. The point is that I unwind. 

I have no issue making plans with people. No issue at all.

Do not stop by my house unannounced. Then trap me in my own living room bitching about your problems for two hours. Then three more phone calls from three different people bitching about their problems. 

MY PROBLEM IS ALL OF YOU BITCHING ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS. Nobody even said, hey, Erratic, how was your day? Nope. Not once. 

So my phone is off and my beer is open and god dammit I am going to hide from the world the rest of the night. 

Also note that any one of these situations by itself wouldn't have even bothered me. It was just too much for one day. 

Aaaaand work just called bitching about how busy they were. I quit earth.

Remove Head from Ass and Proceed

I have gone back and forth about writing about the tragedy that happened on Friday. I never shy away from a conflict, I suppose, so here goes.

Everyone can agree on one thing; this was a senseless tragedy that could have been prevented. The reason that it could have been prevented is where everyone seems to disagree, including me and the boy. 

I think that this country has reached a point of sensitivity to a fault. Am I proposing that we all go back to being racist, sexist ass holes? No. No I am not. But, I think that we have become so sensitive that we are scared of rocking the boat. We are scared to say, hey, there is something the fuck wrong with that kid and someone needs to address it. Because that is bullying. That is picking on that kid. That is mean. And then that kid kills 27 people. 

As a country, we have become so politically correct we are not addressing major issues in our society. We are instead avoiding them. We absolutely need to love our fellow man. I truly believe that. And part of that is calling our fellow man out on their shit. I don't know if this kid exhibited any kind of mental illness prior to shooting up the school. But I can guarantee you that there is someone out there who sensed something was off. Somebody knew.

So, yes, lets address mental illness. Let's stop being scared to talk about it and just talk about it. Because it is real and it happens and sometimes it ends in the death of a lot of innocent people. Sometimes it ends in suicide. Regardless, it never ends in a pile of rainbows and unicorns. Let's start talking about it in a very real way. 

On the flip side of that, there is the media. Absolutely there were not people shooting up schools when my parents were kids. I was a senior in high school when Columbine happened and our school was locked the fuck down. Metal detectors were installed. You couldn't blink without somebody looking at you funny. It was a terrifying time. You know what else it was? A media sensation. Those boys were all over every single form of media all over the world. They were famous. To an extent, it was glamorized. I have no idea who the victims were in that shooting. But I sure as shit remember the names of the two kids who shot up that school.

People were angry that traumatized kids were being interviewed and I agree with that too. The media definitely needs to cover it. But, people with mental illness to this degree want the fame. They want to be plastered all over every newspaper and TV show. We have to figure out a way to make this about the victims, not their killers.

Lastly, and most controversial, I believe that gun control is a big part of the problem. Nobody, and I mean nobody, should be allowed an automatic weapon in their home. I even take issue with semi-automatic. I am not going to fight with anybody about this because I understand that everybody has their own rights to their own beliefs, just like I do. But, if you feel the need to have an automatic weapon in your home for your own protection, you are fooling yourself. Those guns are meant to kill. And I take issue with anybody owning anything for the sole purpose of using it to kill another human being. 

As a country, let's hug our kids and be grateful for what we have. But, let's also get our heads out of our self important asses and make sure shit like this doesn't happen again. 

Politics. And Vibrators. Yeah.

I need to vent. About politics. I am resisting everything that I have to keep this shit off of Facebook because I hate that other people do just that. I can't vent at work for similar reasons. Politics are personal and this is my personal blog, so dammit, I am going to just be that person for a minute. And I am not saying these things because I want you to agree with me. I would love for someone to have an intelligent conversation disagreeing with me. I just rarely find people who will intelligently talk about politics. And I feel like I spend all of my time focused on very left wing, liberal media sources because, quite frankly, I agree with them. And whenever I find someone who disagrees with me, they don't answer my core questions honestly. Or at least satisfactorily. 

So, here is what I don't understand. How can a woman, any woman, vote for Paul Ryan? I get that you are actually voting for Mitt Romney. And I get that there are tons of checks and balances in place that will prevent a lot of the hate that he spews to go through, but how can any woman support this?  How can any woman think that rape is just another form of conception? I realize that is not word for word what he says. But to call pregnancy by rape conception is...vulgar. To take something so precious to so many people and to say that violently being forced to have sex and have a resulting pregnancy...to just use the same word for those two things is wrong. Yes, by definition, it is conception. And I really do understand the pro-life point of view. I have never been pregnant, but there is no point in my life where I would have considered abortion. I refuse to make choices for other people, but I know what choice I would always make. Rape is the exception. 

The bottom line, to me, is this; a guy gets to put his dick anywhere he wants to and the woman has to face the consequences. Rapists don't pay child support. They don't get visitation. Frankly, they probably don't even get prosecuted. I know I regret every single day not pressing charges. Most women don't press charges. 

How do we protect ourselves? A barbed wire chastity belt? I mean, seriously. I have the fucking right in this country to choose when I have children. To choose to take contraception. To live the life that I want to live. And I have the fucking right to choose to not give birth to a child if I don't want to. I would NEVER exercise that right, because a part of me is not really behind abortion. The bottom line is that it isn't my place to make that decision for another woman. 

And mother fucker, the last people who should be making this decision is a bunch of men. I know I have previously ranted about this. And I know this is in the top 5 topics you should never discuss in mixed company. But, thankfully, I have no boundaries. Or not so thankfully.

I want Paul Ryan to walk into a shelter for battered women (I have done this) and tell them that rape is just another form of conception (I would never do this) and see their reactions. I want him to look into the faces of women who have been brutalized and raped and feel nothing. To see the void in their eyes. To see a woman completely broken. I want him to tell them that they should carry that child for 9 months when they can barely get out of bed. I want him to tell them that aborting that child is wrong when all they can do is cry.

I don't support abortion is birth control. Or even as a way out of a huge mistake. I really don't. But, desperate people do desperate things. And while, yes, there are women who have abortion after abortion while being reckless, that doesn't discount the women who walk into clinics who legitimately need help. 

And abolishing Planned Parenthood? Just. What? Abortion is a fraction of what they do. A FRACTION. They treat STD's, they do gyno exams for people who can't afford it, they provide birth control, they provide counseling, they are truly an organization that supports women and their sexuality.

Which is what this is all about, right? Women's sexuality. In a culture that is bombarded by sex everyday. Listen up, men. Women like sex too. And we want to have it. And we want to protect ourselves in the process. So, eliminating every circumstance that a woman can have sex with a man without the risk of conceiving a child? Yeah...your dick isn't coming anywhere near any woman in her right mind. 

And I apologize for being so vulgar, but a vibrator is a hell of a lot cheaper than a kid. 

Conclusion: Paul Ryan just got replaced by a vibrator. 

Second Conclusion: Nobody is ever going to read this blog again.

My uterus has it's own brain, apparently.

So, this happened. And I apologize, but You Tube was being an ass hole and wouldn't let me embed the video, so I am just adding the link to the article. You are going to need to read it for the rest of this to make sense.

I am not going to go too much into this because, frankly, I feel like it is so obvious it doesn't even need to be said. Clearly, I am wrong. When did a bunch of white haired old men get to make decisions about my body and my reproductive rights? If you don't like the concept of birth control, fine. Don't take it. If you think the morning after pill is wrong, don't get a prescription for it. If you think that abortion is wrong, don't have one. If you don't like the idea of same sex marriage, then don't marry someone of your sex. The foundation of this country was built on the concept of agreeing to disagree. Land of the Free and shit. FREEDOM TO MAKE OUR OWN DECISIONS. You don't have to like it. 

But if you fucking think for one fucking second that a woman's body can prevent pregnancy in the case of rape, you are a fucking fuck idiot. You shouldn't be a politician. Your JOB is to be informed when having conversations on public television. And the bottom line is that there is absolutely no fucking way a woman's uterus can tell the difference between consensual and nonconsensual sex. THAT DEFIES LOGIC.

I don't give a fuck what political party you back...I really don't. If a democrat had said this I would be just as pissed. If this man gets elected, I am seriously going to consider never going into the state of Missouri again. 

Oops. I ranted. 

Please don't hate me because I rant.

You know how there is NOTHING  more annoying than someone who bitches about Facebook while still actively remaining on Facebook? I am about to be that person.

Facebook changed. Not because they updated something and don't have a dislike button. I guess I should rephrase that. Facebook users changed. And I don't know what happened because I didn't change. I still post videos of my coworkers eating 50 McDonalds nuggets in 10 minutes. I still talk about mundane things and check in at random places. (By the way, if you ever check in at my house, it is Neil's Sausage Haus. Bad. Ass.) This is what I like about Facebook. 

"Ooh, so and so is at that new restaurant. I should text them and see how it is."

"Ooh, so and so is just down the street, we should pop in and say hi."

"Ooh, Erratic is at home drinking on the couch again. We should judge her."

I like the mundane stuff, the funny stuff, the whatever. I enjoy the brief snip its into my friend's lives. I enjoy the pictures of my friend's kids. This allows me to watch my cousin's twins grow up while being 3 hours away. You get to catch up without making a zillion phone calls a day. 

That is not my Facebook anymore. I blocked several people because of their INSANE politics. Like, Obama is a Muslim terrorist and we should all be doomsday prepping politics. I just can't. 

What is really getting to me is the re-posting of various pictures with little phrases. Yes, the old school post cards were funny. The first time I saw them, I laughed. Now I want to kill myself. The political ads. And, Obama, my dear, I BLAME YOU. BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL IN YOUR FAVOR. I get it. Social Media won you your first election. I understand why you are doing it. What I don't understand is why my FRIENDS are doing it. Just. Fucking. Fuck. Stop.

What set me off today is someone re-posted a quote about Monsanto's genetically modified corn causing cancer. Now. I am not a huge Monsanto fan. And I apologize to one of my favorite people who is reading this and works there, but I am actually about to stick up for Monsanto. I will give you all a moment to digest that.

If it was proven that Monsanto corn was causing cancer, it would not be on the market. EVERYTHING IN EXCESS IS HARMFUL. If you are shoveling high fructose corn syrup or corn byproduct made from Monsanto GMO seeds into your mouth at an alarming rate, guess what, that's not Monsanto's fault. That is yours. You choose to eat the processed food that most of the corn grown in this country goes to. Those corn fields you see on the side of the road, not for corn on the cob. They are for ethanol fuel and corn by product. Promise. Yes, the corn you are eating in the grocery store probably stems back to Monsanto because, frankly, they have the market on GMO corn. If it wasn't GMO, the grocery store sure as fuck would mark it heirloom and charge an arm and a leg for it.

So, unless you have some sort of odd corn addiction where you are liquefying and mainlining that shit, you're good. Where you're not good? That Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and hot dogs you are eating. I challenge all of you to read every label just once when you go to the store. Almost everything processed has corn and/or soy byproduct in it. That's where the problem is. 

Now. I realize that I have very strong opinions about food. It is my job to have those opinions. Do I always practice what I preach? Fuck no. Do I try really hard? Meh. Mostly. But, I don't make any of YOU practice what I preach. Yes, on my personal blog, I rant and rave about this shit because it's my blog. Mine. My space to vent my feelings to people who I know will support me even if they don't agree with me. And if they don't? They don't have to read it.

On Facebook? It's awkward. It's not the place. Facebook should be light and fun and stupid You Tube videos. It should be pictures of babies and cats and dogs and vacations and check ins and trivial bullshit. 

Don't push your politics on me. When Obama was last elected, I admit to going a little crazy on Facebook and I later regretted it. I alienated some people. I won't make that mistake again. Unless I am drunk. Then, I might. Everyone has a right to THEIR opinion. It's what this country was founded on. And this country is losing sight of that. Do I judge you if I see a cart full of chips and soda in the store? Yep. I sure do. I look down at my vegetables and fruit and meat and grains and feel superior. But, I don't try to change that. I don't try to get laws passed that will prevent you from buying nothing but processed foods. I let myself have my smug little moment and I move on. I wish that people were better at that. ESPECIALLY on Facebook.

Oops. I got angry.

Last night, C's wife said something to me that really stuck. She said, you always think that this city is full of your peers. 

The discussion was over food and how I am always astonished that this city votes Chipotle as the best Mexican restaurant year after year.

The comment made me think that, yes, we assume everyone has the same sensibilities that we do. That people have the same moral compass and would choose the same path because we surround ourselves with those people. If we meet someone who does not meet those standards, we don't become friends with them. They aren't in our lives.

This morning I was driving to work and the local morning show had someone from The Westboro Baptist Church. I would link to their website, but  the title of the website is offensive and I refuse to link to such filth. Anyway, the whole reason that the morning show had them on was to bring awareness to the fact that people were out there like this. That people felt like this. It shook my entire existence. Because, like C's wife said, I do think the city, the country, the world is full of my peers. Yes, people may disagree with things like gay marriage, but they do it in a civilized way. I realize this is naive. It was a personal choice to remain that way. I don't want to know what these people think. After the pastor disconnected, one of the hosts had to leave the rooms she was so upset. I am sure they now regret that decision.

Yet, here I am, listening to this man, this abomination, this scum. And he is using the word "fag" exclusively to refer to homosexuals and saying that he wants to put them in a concentration camp in the dessert and kill them off like the Jews. He is saying hateful, horrible things and I feel the tears streaming down my face. I am not sad for me. I want to make all of this go away. I want to take away all of this pain for the people whose lives this really affects. I want to silence this man, throw him in a cell, and never let him see the light of day again. I want this to STOP. 

I know it's not that easy. I know that there is so much more to all of this than in my little bubble in my liberal city surrounded by a lot of people who don't feel this way. But, I am so sick of hatred being spewed. Of people saying and doing terrible things in the name of a God that they clearly don't understand. I am sick of watching friends of mine have secret relationships with people they love because their partner's family would never accept them coming out. I am sick of watching loving, happy couples struggle through legal technicalities over their own children. I am just fucking over it.

I posted today that if anyone in my life (and I believe some distant family members who I am friends with on Facebook do) want to put homosexuals in a concentration camp, to just cease being in my life. I don't want to know you. I don't want to hear your hate and your fucking irrational, and frankly terrible, arguments. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know you. Because, while I cannot control what crazy fucking pastors say and do, I can control who is in my life. And if you are a racist or a bigot or in anyway don't accept and love your fellow man, then fuck off. 

I cannot handle a bedazzled Letterman's jacket.

I hope that this doesn't sound conceited. But, it probably will.  So, right. 

I would also like to add a disclaimer that the boy and I have been CHUGGING margaritas in order to not kill each other because closing on a house is FUCKING STRESSFUL and the mortgage company just informed of us of their obligatory surprise costs. Fuck that.

And some bitch on The Voice is singing in the middle of a heart. This what happens when my "How I Met Your Mother" line up isn't on. I watch stupid bullshit TV and they sing in a heart and I get angry and want to throw the cat at the TV. AND NOW HE IS WEARING A FUCKING FUCK BEDAZZLED LETTERMAN'S JACKET.

So, my time is valuable. And I am not talking about sitting and hanging out with friends and drinking. I am talking about when you ask me, as a person with a skilled trade, to help you, a person without said skilled trade, to use that skilled trade to your advantage. 

Would you call your electrician friend and ask them to rewire your house for a party and then ask them to bring a gift to said party? No. You would say, hey, it's my birthday and in lieu of a present, would you rewire my house? And he would tell you to go fuck yourself and it will cost $1000. And no, he does not accept credit cards.

I have a skilled trade too. And it is SO FRUSTRATING because people always ask me to cook for things and never think, hey, she should be compensated for that. This is what she does for a living. 

Here's the thing. If you read this blog, and I know you in real life, I would cater your wedding, cook you dinner, throw you a dinner party including a 5 course meal. Hell yes I would. And I would charge you absolutely nothing for it. But, I would not buy you a wedding gift unless you paid me exactly what I cost. I would cook for all of you, even if I don't know you in real life, dinner. No strings attached. I am sure as fuck not making a 5 course meal and then buying you some bullshit digital picture frame. 

If you don't care about food, fine. Call some local restaurant that does catering cheap and regret it later. If you ask me to cater something, to give you a sit down, coursed out dinner, expect awesome. Because it will be. And I guarantee you, I will get ripped off in the process, even if you pay me.

Let's just say that I make $10/hr to cater your dinner party for 10 people. I will spend about 5 hours menu planning. Another 10 testing the recipes. Another 10 doing prep. At least, depending on the ingredients, $200 on food. (that is cheap) and then probably 5 actually executing the dinner. That is $50 a person. Except all I will actually get to charge you for is the prep, execution and food costs. That is $35 a person.

I do that shit for free ALL THE TIME. So, please don't ask me to do all of that and then bring a fucking gift. I will stab you. I want to stab you right now, person who doesn't read this blog but should because then they would understand what a total asshole they are.

Yes, all of you cook everyday and don't get paid for it. I do. I am not saying I am better than you. I am saying this is how I pay my bills. This is how I make a living. I am more than happy to come over and weed your garden for free, because if I fuck it up, my reputation isn't on the line. (note: there is no way I will come over and weed your garden.) 

I would love to cook everything for every one of you. I would. But, please don't ask me to bring the wine too, ya know?

Uh Oh. I got angry. And very vague.

I am writing this because I am frustrated. I am thirty years old. I am not a child. I am not stupid. I am capable of making adult decisions ON MY OWN without the assistance of others. Sometimes they may be poor decisions. But you know whose problem that is? MINE. THAT IS MY PROBLEM. Sometimes they are decisions that are best for me in a certain situation. But, the bottom line is that they only effect me. Me alone. And if they do happen to affect someone else, well, that person is OK with them as well. Because I would never make a decision without consulting those that it effects. And I get that people have my best interests in mind. I really do. I get that people are trying to protect me. But, here is the thing. You know who else is trying to protect me? ME. I would never do something that would put me in a position I am not comfortable being in. (Yes, that is indeed, what she said.) And I am just so fucking sick of people questioning everything I do. Yes, I am impulsive and emotional and bat shit fucking crazy sometimes, but I am also rational and responsible and think things through. I AM NOT A SINGLE FUCKING ADJECTIVE. I am made up of a lot of things. And to compare the way I act about, say, what's for dinner, to major life decisions is unfair to me. And frankly, it is fucking insulting. So, if you have no faith in me, then just leave me the fuck alone. Because I have faith in me and I know that I am making the right decision. I don't need your doubt to ruin everything.

Rant over. I had nowhere else to post this, so thank you for listening. Well, reading.

I will now resume the blissful state I was in before my phone rang and ruined it all. Happiness trumps pissed the fuck off.

Where you all hate me...but hate HFCS more! Or just me. But not me. Begging is not attractive. Not me!

I have been trying to make some pretty huge lifestyle changes lately. Mostly, trying to practice what I preach. Because, fuck, I am preachy.

Around the new year, probably closer to Christmas, the boy and I both gave up soda. We stopped buying it first. Then we stopped ordering it when out. Then we both just gave it up all together. I often bitch about the horror of high fructose corn syrup. Not really on here because I try oh so hard to not alienate all of you with my radical food ways.

But. I want to talk about this. Soda was the last thing that I consume on a regular basis with high fructose corn syrup in it. And I fully expected the typical reaction (the one the boy had)...weight loss. Nope. Didn't happen. A lot of that had to do with the steroids and my bodies love for it's fat roll. A lot of it had to do with me not introducing a workout program yet.

So, I quit high fructose corn syrup...and, really, processed sugar in general. Which meant mostly soda, except for ketchup and mustard (did you know that? Me either. Only stone ground mustard here. Still looking for organic ketchup.) 

We were a soda house. Mountain Dew, Vernors (I still miss you, my dear), Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, you name it. We drank it. Cold Turkey. Done. I was a 1 - 3 cans a day drinker. The boy was higher, though I am not sure by how much.

On SuperBowl Sunday, I got a 20 oz Dr. Pepper. I drank 1/3 of it and poured the rest out. I couldn't even stomach it.

I drink a cup of English Breakfast tea every morning and nothing but water now. I am not counting alcohol here. I mean, of course. That doesn't count, right?

Strange things have happened. I definitely went through withdrawal. I was crabby and tired and my muscles ached. I still am having problems with my muscles aching. I used to have heart burn/ nausea almost daily. It happens maybe once a week now. My hair isn't falling out. I used to pull out handfuls in the shower, even more when I combed it after my shower. Today was the first day (almost 2 months later) where literally no hair came out when I combed it. I lost some in the shower, but still. I was pulling out HANDFULS. And I was taking all the vitamins and shit everyone says to take. My hair is thicker now.

My nails are growing way faster (I only notice this because I keep them cut nail-biter short so food doesn't get caught under them.) I have to trim them twice a week.

I have a lot more energy. I am sleeping a lot less, which sucks. But, I require a lot less sleep too.

It blows my mind that THIS change could create THESE changes. I always blamed my stomach issues on all of the ibuprofen and pain killers I took through the years of dealing with my back problems. 

I always thought the hair loss, was, I don't know...something else. 

My nails have always grown kind of fast, but this is unreal. 

And I realize that the last two things are pregnancy things and I am going to be honest, my brain went there first. But, no. The only change has been giving up soda. 

I am exercising more, though not back to running. I am walking 4 - 5 days a week about a mile and a half. I am stretching all the time trying to get back to running. I miss running. I used to be a runner before all this back shit and the doctors told me I couldn't. 

We ate out three times this week. But, tonight I made root vegetable "pasta" with lentils and homemade Italian Sausage. (there is a demo video I made for Big Jed. It may end up being shown here. Did you know how easy it was to make sausage? I will soon, maybe, show you.)

Big Jed and I hope to run a 5K in May. I am having a nervous breakdown about how close that is, but I want to do it. I really, really do. 

It is hard to change, but I feel like I am doing it the way I need to. I am not dieting. I am not trying some radical new workout program. I always fail at those (Zumba, for example.) I need to set really small goals and reach them and work from there. 

I don't have a whole lot of weight to lose...my goal is 30 lbs. 40 would be awesome...but 30 lbs is my goal. If I lose 20 lbs I will be happy. I just love the changes that are sticking. The choices I am making. I am really happy with what I have done so far.

So, if just one person reads this and eats more whole foods and goes for a walk, I will be happy. I am happy that I did just that. Maybe I am not losing weight, but I feel good. I feel healthy. I will get there. 

But, fucking fuck. High Fructose Corn Syrup. Just. Stop. Please? Pretty Please? I love you all so much. 

Gah. Preachy. Please?

Get it first here: Erratic lost her shit. Oh, wait...that's not news.

I feel like all I do is rant. I hope you all don't mind. Because I am about to do it again. Can we say instead of ranting I go on an angry tirade? I like that word.

I HATE when people go off about shit they know nothing about. A friend of mine on Facebook, not a real life friend, posted some FDA warning that she saw at a fast food restaurant that rhymes with DickDonalds. The warning basically said that eating their food would kill you. Well, duh.

First of all, she was SHOCKED by this information, which made me both sad and angry. That is another rant about knowing what you are putting in your body and understanding what it does to you. Gah! 

Second of all, someone replied and said that anytime you grill something, the char that is on the meat or vegetable or whatever can cause cancer. And...my brain explodes. OK. Let's be realistic here. There are tons of things that can cause cancer in large amounts in lab rats. Or mice. Or whatever. People have been "charring" food forever. Literally. FOREVER. That is NOT the same as what DickDonalds is doing. It's just not. That is not even, really, food. By definition, it is edible. But, it is not "food" as you and I would understand it. 

It is certainly not ground up chicken breast, battered, and fried in their chicken nuggets. 

I am getting off point...the point is, I hate when people say shit for the shock value. When they go for the "OMG, I HAD NO IDEA, THAT IS TERRIBLE" reaction unless they know what the fuck they are talking about. 

Two educated people disagreeing is one thing. But, for someone to say that you cannot char foods because it causes cancer is flat out ridiculous. Even more ridiculous? The post blew up with people being shocked and swearing off grilling. 

And those people are also going to walk into my restaurant and want their fucking steak baked because the char marks are going to kill them.

Also, there is a difference between an intolerance and an allergy and GOD DAMMIT DON'T TELL ME YOU HAVE AN ALLERGY IF YOU ARE ACTUALLY JUST INTOLERANT OF SOMETHING. Or heaven forbid you just don't like it. I will respect it either way. But, an allergy is like walking into an ER and calling code red. We stop and wash everything, change our pans, our tongs, our gloves, our cutting boards, everything. Nobody wants to watch someone go into anaphylactic shock. But, if you tell me you are allergic to onions and I go to your table and say, well, we have these lily family (onions, garlic, etc) ingredients in our food and maybe you should just have a salad, and you say, well, they just give me gas, I am going to stab you in the throat. 

OK, I won't. But, I will roll my eyes and just walk away. And be pissed. And rant. And then go on an angry tirade about it on my blog.

Look, if you are at a nice restaurant, we understand food allergies. IT IS OUR JOB. Please just be honest. It is, again, our job to make you happy. 

And...that got off track. I am just going to stop here and hope you all continue reading after this. I may have just lost my shit. Halfway through the post I poured myself a drink. Yeah.

To sum up: Don't lie to servers. We all just want to make you happy. Even if you are picky. Oh, and don't talk shit if you don't have the facts to back it up. Word.

Frustration times a million.

I need to rant. And I don't really have anywhere else to do it because everyone I know has nice normal lives and are busy living them. And I don't want to ruin someone else's Saturday.

When I got my new job, while I was thrilled, I had some hesitation. The person who got me the job was someone I cut out of my life 6 or so years ago. I had recently just started talking to him again and made it very clear that our new relationship needed boundaries. Lots and lots of boundaries. Then I started working with him. And slowly but surely, those boundaries are becoming blurred. Late night drunk phone calls, asking me to constantly come over for dinner, and the latest, watching his cats while he was on vacation.

He was supposed to be back on Wednesday. He is still not back. So, I went over there yesterday to feed them and scoop the litter box. Well, his cockroaches are back. And I am not sure I have ever talked about this, but I have a paralyzing fear of bugs. I can't help it. I realize it is irrational. I realize that it makes me a complete fucking chicken shit. I can't help it. I start to panic, hyperventilate, sob uncontrollably. I can't help it. So, I quickly refilled their food and water and got out of there.

I called Krackle bawling. I didn't know what to do. The cats were covered in mats, because he doesn't brush them enough. They live in a basement with no beds, no carpeting. Nothing. The whole situation just broke my heart. Krackle works with the only other person stupid enough to still have this person in his life. He called me and I begged him to watch them until this other friend got back. 

He said he would go pick them up, but under no circumstances was he spending time in that bug infested house. I agreed because nobody had any idea when they would be home. We spent last night making arrangements to get all the necessary supplies together and even discussed the boy going over and bombing their house because the cats would be out.

Cut to this morning. I get a phone from a total stranger asking me not to move the cats, that they will be home tomorrow. Apparently I have pissed him off so much, he can't even talk to me. 

I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHERE I DID SOMETHING WRONG. 

I am so annoyed because somehow, and this is his superpower, the reason I wanted him out of my life in the first place, a situation that he completely created and fucked me over with has made me feel bad. He has managed to get to me. Again. I am smarter than this. I KNOW this is what he does. Yet, here I am worrying that I have upset him and his husband. Worrying that I overreacted. 

And I can't just walk away because I work with him every single day. Do I walk away from a job that I absolutely adore? Because I am seriously thinking about it. I want out. I want to be done. Surely, I can stop answering his phone calls. Be curt in passing at work. But, we are a kitchen of 5. You bring in that kind of tension and suddenly, the kitchen doesn't work anymore and I am the reason. 

I don't know what to do. This is the second time in two days I have been in tears over this situation and I am just so angry. All of my actions were out of love for those two poor cats. I feel terrible about the way I left them. 

I have managed to get myself into an impossible situation with no way out. Again. With him. And I think the only answer is to start looking for a new job. 

It is a wonder I have friends at all.

Hi. It's me again, your obnoxious neighbor who won't shut up about the Whitman's down the street not mowing their yard.

That metaphor was terrible.

I am about to bitch about the American food system. WHAT? ME? Never. Psht. 

Read This:

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/12/27/bacteria-1-f-d-a-0/?ref=opinion

It's not long. And I know I post this guy's stuff all the time. And I know that I am obnoxiously opinionated. But, if just one of you picks up the antibiotic free chicken at the store instead of something from Purdue. Or Tyson. Or one of the other conglomerates that is poisoning our country, then I made a difference.

Buy local. Buy antibiotic free. I know it's expensive, believe me, I know. But it's worth it.

Rant over. Please resume your regularly scheduled reading of people who are not opinionated ass holes.

Fucking fuck. Rant.

We had to rip up carpet.

And lock the animals out.

Who are now freaking out because OMG EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING IN THAT ROOM RIGHT NOW.

The water isn't stopping.

I am WIRED and have to go into work early tomorrow.

Fuck this mother fucking day. 

I just needed to rant.

We can't afford to fix this and the condo association has pretty much declared they are out of money. 

I need to win the lottery and sell this leaking shit hole and move to the city so I can have a new leaking shit hole.

I love my home.

Fuck. I am pissed. And giving up. And pissed.

Fuck.

Oh, hey, soap box. I am going to spend some time on you today.

I am sure all of you have heard about the Penn State drama. If you haven't heard about it, I recommend packing a bag and leaving your cave for a day to read up. I will wait.

I live in Columbus, OH. And, yes, I realize that I my anonymity fails. I am one post away from posting a picture of myself in front of my house holding a sign with my social security number on it. What can I say? I know most of you in real life anyway. Also, my identity sucks. I am willing to trade.

Most of the people I have encountered on Facebook are upset because of the way he is leaving, the terrible downfall of a great coach. A legend's reputation tarnished. 

Dear Everyone,

HE ALLOWED A MAN TO CONTINUE RAPING CHILDREN.

Love,

Common Sense.

Oh, he told his superior, you say? Bullshit. Not good enough. Bull Fucking Shit.

Wait, you say. Wasn't MY city and MY team recently involved in a scandal? Oh, yes, we were. We traded free tattoos for sports memorabilia. And our couch was forced to resign. A coach who overlooked some kids being kids.

CHILD. RAPE.

Ugh. This world. Joe Paterno should be prosecuted as an accessory to rape. Everyone who knew should be prosecuted. There are a lot of crimes that are somewhat understandably overlooked. THIS. SHOULD. NEVER. BE. ONE. OF. THEM. Ever. 

Innocent children.

So, if you are one of the people who sympathize with Paterno or think his end in college football is sad, please stop reading this blog.

I may be crass and inappropriate. I may be a terrible person with a room reserved in hell. 

But, I would never, ever, ever allow someone to hurt a child. I would never stand back and do nothing. I would never do what Joe Paterno did.

Press 2 If you want to bash your head in with the phone.

I think my finger may be infected. Well, that is not totally true. Everyone else thinks my finger may be infected and now I am getting paranoid. I think it is new skin and scar tissue, not redness and swelling. It doesn't hurt. Whatever. The moral of the story is that I was fear-mongered into going to get it checked out. Now, before you call me crazy, you should know that I have been getting staph infections since I was about 11. Anytime I get any kind of major cut, I freak out about getting a staph infection in it. So, I am normally a wee bit paranoid about flesh wounds.

I decide to go to the local urgent care. I gather my workers compensation paperwork and off I go. Now some of you may already be shaking your head at me, but in my defense, I had more faith in our medical system.

I walk in and start explaining what happened, where I got the stitches, etc. I DID NOT say anything about Worker's Comp purposefully because I went to this same place to attempt to get stitches out last time I cut myself and they refused. I planned on paying cash for this visit and sending the bill in. I also refuse to lie because, well, what's the point? She finally asked enough questions that I had to tell her it happened at work and yes, there was in fact a claim filed. She refused to give me medical care of any kind. She refused, really, to even discuss it further. She just continued to say that I needed to go back to the EMERGENCY ROOM where I was originally treated. Now. My finger is slightly red and a tiny bit swollen (I still think this is scar tissue.) There is not an open, pussing wound that screams "WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE" every time I look at it. This is not an emergency. The ER I went to was in the heart of downtown, so it is very busy all the time. With real emergencies. Violent ones. Not so much ouchies like I was walking in with. No. I would not go.

She said that I should have been recommended after care. I explained that I refused because I planned on taking out my own stitches. I never got the paperwork. I had nowhere to go other than the ER.

I told the woman, again, I would just pay cash. Pretend she didn't hear the term "workers comp." All I wanted was for someone to take two fucking seconds and say, yes, that could be an infection or nope, you are fine. If it was an infection, write me a 2 second prescription for an antibiotic and I would be on my merry little way. I didn't even care if I saw a doctor, I would trust a nurse. 

Refused. To. Even. Speak. To. Me. I was livid. What if I walked in and the stitches had been ripped out and I was bleeding everywhere? That is the closest medical facility to my house. I guarantee I would have been refused treatment. 

I was willing to pay the bill in full and accept full responsibility for it. I don't have health insurance, so there was no issue there. I just wanted to pay cash for a prescription or a simple "you are fine." 

Refused.

Tell me that there is something wrong with this...because I was BAFFLED. Totally confused. I needed medical assistance and was refused when I had more than enough money to pay the bill. The proper thing to do is go add to the patient load of an already busy ER so someone can look at a finger that is a little pink? Not to go to an urgent care with one family in the waiting room that has plenty of time to see me and take care of the problem. AND. The worker's comp card does not say there is a restriction. 

I was pissed. I still am pissed. I don't understand how medical care in this country can even claim to be slightly effective. 

What next, you ask? I am doing the only thing I think is reasonable. Wait until it gets worse. I am not going to a fucking ER unless I have a fucking emergency. And I sure as hell am not going to spend 16 hours on the phone with an office that is ONLY open while I am work. I can't just take a quick break and make a phone call. That isn't really the way my job works. I get zero breaks. Zero. I eat food hovering over a trash can in between rushes. There is no time to deal with "press 1 if you think we are ridiculous." 

Note: I do.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Sometimes I am an idiot. No, that is an understatement. Sometimes I am a downright, full fledged fucking stupid ass hole. This week, today, all fall into that category.

My cousin is getting married this weekend, which in and of itself does not make me stupid. But, my new schedule is still at the "I am going to fucking die from exhaustion" point. I have not quite gotten used to the hours, to say the least. Once everything gets back to normal, I will be working Monday through Friday 9 am to 3 pm at New Job and Sunday through Thursday 4 pm to close at Old Job. These past two weeks have been a mixture of fading out the old, already posted schedule and working into this new schedule. There has been a lot of running around and I do not honestly remember the last day I had off. Other than the labor day work picnic, which I don't count. I was supposed to work 11 days straight, which turned into 15. I am a little spent.

So, back to me being a giant fucktard. I leave for Indianapolis tomorrow immediately following my shift at New Job. Like, my father will be waiting at my house tapping his foot, checking his watch, and possibly honking the horn. I am not kidding. He is not so happy that we are leaving at 3 pm. If he could time my shower and change of clothes with a stop watch screaming "get it together, solider, we leave at 1500 hours, not a minute later" he would. The man has never been in the military. He is just a wee bit anal. So...this means that tonight, when I got home from work, I had to pack and get completely ready so that I can jump in/out of the shower and run, full speed ahead to the car tomorrow after work. 

This was not a good plan. The days are taking their toll. I am getting crabby. And tired. And crabby.

THEN my shoes didn't come in the mail. The shoes that were supposed to be here yesterday. The shoes that went with the dress and the necklace and the earrings and THE WHOLE OUTFIT. I don't do this except for weddings, people. I have no shoes.

THEN the earring/necklace combo didn't match. They were the same brand and sold as a matching pair and did not match. And they came in the mail today. No time to fix it. Thank Jesus I have alternate earrings I can roll with in a pinch.

So. Let's summarize. I have no time, no shoes, no patience, and my eyebrows look like two caterpillars having some sort of bug war on my forehead. I NEED TO PLUCK. And my toenails are hideous. Fuck, I forgot about the toenails.

I am having a nervous breakdown people. Sound the alarms. I'll get the beer.

So...

This is going to be a little random. But, I was putting away groceries and just clicked on the T.V. and MTV was on. I was probably watching Teen Mom because I can't get enough of that shit. It was True Life: "I want to be straight."

One of the people was a black woman who was a lesbian and pretty much ended the show as a lesbian. The other was a guy whose parents and friends are super religious and do not support him being gay. So, he tries to become straight. And every conversation is just like, oh, I talked to this girl, but I don't think I am emotionally ready for that relationship. And I, being the calm, tactful person that I am, am screaming "BECAUSE YOU LIKE PENIS" at the T.V. By the end of the show, he was just sort of like, well, I guess I am going to be alone forever. 

We are legalizing gay marriage. Slowly but surely it is happening. As a country, we are becoming more and more accepting of this lifestyle. Then there are his parents who basically will have nothing to do with him if he is dating men.

I just. NO. No. No. No. You are his parents. It is your job, as a parent, to love your child. 

I just don't understand. And every person who I have encountered that feels this way has tried to explain it to me and I still just don't understand. Nor do I think I want to. 

Also, I am completely soaked in sweat from going to the grocery store. So, you know, Erratic goes to Alaska coming soon.

What side are you on?

If you are friends with me on Facebook, you have already discovered the latest blow in my culinary world.

Kraft owns the patent to Provel cheese. I realize that none of you, except maybe Bradshaw, know what this is. It is a blend of white cheddar, swiss, and provolone cheese. It is found on the St. Louis Bread Company (now known as Panera, I refuse to give in) menu as well as my all time favorite pizza ever...Imo's. It has the melting capability of Velveeta (gag, gross) and the tangy flavor of cheddar. I often bring it home from St. Louis, because you can buy it at the grocery store there. Or order it online for the same price as, oh, buying a car. 

I hate Kraft as a corporation for many reasons which I am sure I have spouted off here about. If not, well, be glad I just saved that as a draft and didn't share. Because the hatred runs deep, my friends. I stopped eating my favorite pickles (I miss you!) because they were a Kraft product. Not to mention how much the boy misses their boxed mac and cheese. 

I also feel this way about most mainstream chicken and pork manufacturers. But, this post is about cheese. My favorite cheese. A cheese I am not willing to give up, but that Kraft has bought the patent to. So, buying and eating said cheese is supporting a corporation that stands for everything that I believe to be wrong with the food system in this country. It's not like I can buy it everyday, it is not sold in Ohio. But, isn't just one purchase, one dollar towards that company going against everything I stand for? Isn't it the same thing when I get McDonalds on a road trip or pick up Smithyfield bacon because it is the only thick cut brand the grocery store has left?

I spend 40 plus hours a week supporting locally sourced, organic farmers. I cook with their products and I do my very very best to buy local meats and produce at home. But, it's hard. And it's expensive. And sometimes, the results are sub par. Let's be honest, Velveeta makes a good cheese dip and it is easy as shit to melt. The alternative is a Bechamel sauce, turned into a cheese sauce to the tune of an hour or so of your time. Most people are going to buy a can of rotel and a block of Velveeta and call it a day. 

It's more cost effective to buy the bacon that is on sale. Or the chicken or the pork chops or whatever it is you are buying. It is so much easier to support the huge corporations with livestock farms and genetically modified vegetables. It is so much cheaper too.

Where do you draw the line? Where do you say, I won't eat this? I won't support this company? I won't be a part of this?

Where do you draw the moral line and how often do you cross it for convenience and/or love of food?

I cross it more than I wish. I eat veal (I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON, I KNOW) and not just free range veal. Put you in a box and torture you veal. I buy produce from Mexico and Chile and Argentina and other countries that make my carbon foot print five gazillion. I forget my cloth bags at the grocery store all the time and opt for plastic. Which we reuse to pick up dog poop...so, you know, that is better for the landfill. I eat fast food late at night when I am on my way home from work and so hungry I am contemplating eating the passenger seat in my car. I eat at restaurants that are not locally sourced, that are not organic, that could give two shits about any of that. I drink domestic beer and wine, not all craft beers and local wines. 

But, I also shop at a local butcher with local meat. In the summer, I drive the 5 miles from my house to the weird barn farmers stand to buy produce. Often, having to go to the grocery store to supplement, but still. I use environmentally and pet friendly cleaning products. I feed my fucking animals holistic food, you guys. I support Local Eats, an organization that supports sourcing food locally. I support Dine Originals, an organization that supports locally owned restaurants.

I just always feel like there is one more thing I could be doing, one more way I could be supportive. Because, you guys, I am going to eat Provel cheese. It's going to happen. And I am going to feel ashamed until that delicious cheese hits my mouth and then...heaven.

There is a local blogger who lives the life that I want to live. She is a stay at home mom, sort of. More like a stay at home local food advocate. She teaches courses on charcuterie and slaughters her own pigs. She has chickens! In the city! 

I hope to be there one day, to be able to live this lifestyle completely. Until then, convenience and money and selfish love for ingredients seems to keep getting in the way.

Pucker Up

I don't understand this whole trend in taking pictures of yourself inches from your face with your lips puckered. I just don't. Are we all trying to look like Lisa Renner? Because she looks plastic. And too tan. And gross. Granted, I work with people much younger than me. They friend me on Facebook and then I see these pictures and I am instantly like, wow, you look like a fucking idiot. I mean, nice lipstick, you know, since it is a quarter of an inch from my retinas. Also, nice pores. And why do these pictures alway seem to be taken from a laying down position? Are you trying to entice men by making them think you are laying on your back, legs spread, lips puckered, waiting? You all look like over-glossed whores. Oh, and your pores aren't that great either. 

I think a picture of a woman laughing is much sexier. Or even just caught off guard and smiling. I am old, I get this. I am no longer at an age in my life where I am trying to attract men like a dog in heat. My self worth is not based solely on if other people think I am sexy.  

My favorite pictures are those that catch moments of happiness. Pictures that are unexpected. Pictures that make you smile even if you don't know the person in them. 

I will never get the puckered picture. It just makes beautiful women look silly.