We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this brief message:
I have many more important things to be doing other than writing a snarky blog post. So I am going to go do those things.
End of message.
This has been a test. I repeat: this has only been a test.
And now, back to your regularly scheduled primetime entertainment, brought to you by [insert corporate conglomerate here].
Showing posts with label SIlly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SIlly. Show all posts
Monday, May 11, 2015
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
day 36: why my life is a Rogers and Hart song
I get too hungry for dinner at eight.
I like the theatre but never come late.
I never bother with people I hate.
Let's see--yes, yes, and a thousand times, YES. We can just stop here, actually. This is my anthem.
I don't like crap games with Barons and Earls.
Won't go to Harlem in ermine and pearls.
Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls.
Okay, so I had to look up what "ermine" was (it is a fancy white fur stoat) but yeah, definitely wouldn't go to Harlem--or anywhere--wearing that. And "dishing the dirt" = "stirring up drama." No thank you.
I like the free, fresh wind in my hair, life without care.
I'm broke--it's oke!
Hate California, it's cold and it's damp.
All true thus far. (Except about hating California. That's false. I love you, California.) Also, in case you were wondering, "oke" is "okay" in this instance.
I go to Coney, the beach is divine.
I go to ball games, the bleachers are fine.
I follow Winchell and read every line.
Never been to Coney Island, but I love the beach in general, as long as it isn't over-crowded (see previous line about "not bothering"). And the cheap seats at a baseball game are basically the only thing that is great about America these days. Winchell was a gossip columnist way back when--but I mean, if we're being completely honest, I love that juicy celebrity gossip as much as the next girl. However, now instead of getting it from the newspaper, I glean if off of Refinery29 or Bravo.
I like a prize fight that isn't a fake.
I love the rowing on Central Park lake.
I go to opera and stay wide awake.
I would've gotten into the huge boxing match last weekend had it not been utterly ridiculous on all accounts. Bodies of water are my jam, clichéd Central Park included. And don't get me started on the opera. I sang that stuff in high school and college. It's legit.
I like the green grass under my shoes, what can I lose?
I'm flat--that's that!
I'm all alone when I lower my lamp.
Mmm-hmmm, guilty on all charges.
Don't know the reason for cocktails at five.
I don't like flying, I'm glad I'm alive.
I crave affection, but not when I drive.
Happy hour is just an excuse to drink away the misery and emptiness you get from your day job. Flying gets a bad rap (thanks, Homeland Security), but I could take it or leave it. And I prefer driving alone so I can roll all the windows down and turn the radio way up and sing.
Folks go to London and leave me behind.
I'll miss the crowning, Queen Mary won't mind.
I don't play Scarlett in "Gone With the Wind".
I've always harbored a deep desire to punch Scarlett O'Hara in the throat.
I like to hang my hat where I please, sail with the breeze.
No dough--hey, ho!
I love La Guardia and think he's a champ.
(La Guardia was the mayor of New York City. I'll refrain from commenting on the current mayor of NYC at this time.)
Girls get massages, they cry and they moan.
Tell Lizzie Arden to leave me alone.
I'm not so hot, but my shape is my own.
(Lizzie Arden is referring to Elizabeth Arden, the cosmetics mogul.) There's an entire feminist agenda in three lines here. Take that, Meghan Trainor.
The food at Sardi's is perfect, no doubt.
I don't know what the Ritz is about.
I drop a nickel and coffee comes out.
Sardi's is that restaurant in Times Square where all the caricatures of celebrities are hanging on the walls. Wouldn't be caught dead there. Hate that touristy stuff. Ain't nobody got time (or money) for that.
I like the sweet, fresh rain in my face.
Diamonds and lace, no got--so what?
So what? The perfect retort. The perfect song. The perfect summation of my life philosophy.
And that's why the lady is a tramp!
Monday, April 20, 2015
day 20: breaking up with bananas
It's not you, it's me. I've changed. I just don't need you anymore. You're too immature. I'm looking for something more serious.
I've been cheating on you with plantains.
We can still be friends. I might occasionally text you when I'm drunk. But don't hold out for me or anything.
Because it's getting pretty serious with the plantains.
For real though.
I used to eat a banana every single day. It was part of my morning smoothie routine. But something I read in It Starts With Food about the particularly high sugar content in bananas made me hesitant. I recognized how I go weak in the knees for a banana smothered in almond butter so I knew if I indulged in that during my Whole30, I would just be feeding my Sugar Dragon.
I've been going pretty light on the fruit in general. That's partially intentional and partially a consequence of making sure I get enough good meat and lots of veggies on my plate that when it's all said and done, there just isn't room for fruit. When I do partake, I try to stick to the recommended ones, like berries and grapefruit. And so far--knock on wood--the fruit I have eaten hasn't seemed to trigger any unwieldy cravings.
It doesn't help that spring is here, and soon more and more yummy fruits will be in season. I picked up a cantaloupe on sale at Wegmans a few days ago. It's currently still in the fridge, untouched. To be completely honest, I'm a little afraid to cut it up because I'm not entirely sure that I'll be able to stop myself from eating too much at once (I really like melon).
That's the thing about my Sugar Dragon and fruit. It may be completely healthy and a super great alternative to cheesecake, but psychologically it's filling the same void. I'm still fine tuning where the line is for me between eating fruit to satisfying a craving for something sweet, and simply enjoying fruit because I can.
So I've made the choice to dump bananas. Plantains fried in ghee satisfy me so much better anyhow (Sorry, bananas).
Plantains are more exotic, too, which is nice when you want to show off your beau. And they're bigger. But you know what they say...
Size doesn't matter, sweetness does.
And when it comes to sugar content, less is always more.
I've been cheating on you with plantains.
We can still be friends. I might occasionally text you when I'm drunk. But don't hold out for me or anything.
Because it's getting pretty serious with the plantains.
For real though.
I used to eat a banana every single day. It was part of my morning smoothie routine. But something I read in It Starts With Food about the particularly high sugar content in bananas made me hesitant. I recognized how I go weak in the knees for a banana smothered in almond butter so I knew if I indulged in that during my Whole30, I would just be feeding my Sugar Dragon.
I've been going pretty light on the fruit in general. That's partially intentional and partially a consequence of making sure I get enough good meat and lots of veggies on my plate that when it's all said and done, there just isn't room for fruit. When I do partake, I try to stick to the recommended ones, like berries and grapefruit. And so far--knock on wood--the fruit I have eaten hasn't seemed to trigger any unwieldy cravings.
It doesn't help that spring is here, and soon more and more yummy fruits will be in season. I picked up a cantaloupe on sale at Wegmans a few days ago. It's currently still in the fridge, untouched. To be completely honest, I'm a little afraid to cut it up because I'm not entirely sure that I'll be able to stop myself from eating too much at once (I really like melon).
That's the thing about my Sugar Dragon and fruit. It may be completely healthy and a super great alternative to cheesecake, but psychologically it's filling the same void. I'm still fine tuning where the line is for me between eating fruit to satisfying a craving for something sweet, and simply enjoying fruit because I can.
So I've made the choice to dump bananas. Plantains fried in ghee satisfy me so much better anyhow (Sorry, bananas).
Plantains are more exotic, too, which is nice when you want to show off your beau. And they're bigger. But you know what they say...
Size doesn't matter, sweetness does.
And when it comes to sugar content, less is always more.
Friday, April 17, 2015
day 17: the s word
Let's talk about sex, baby.
Sex With Your Pants On--that is.
The creators of the Whole30 coined this little phrase "Sex With Your Pants On" in reference to the practice of trying to recreate comfort foods with compliant ingredients. For example, pancakes made with sweet potatoes, eggs, and coconut flour, or ice cream made from blending up frozen bananas. All of the indulgence, none of the guilt, right? Right?!
Yes, the components of these sex-with-your-pants-on foods are technically Whole30-compliant but in It Starts With Food we are encouraged to think realistically about why we're driven to make these "comfort" foods in the first place. It's probably because we're trying to satisfy a craving, isn't it?
So even if the "treat" we make contains ingredients that may not bother our intestines or stimulate generalized inflammation, we are doing nothing to improve our hormonal response or psychological relationship with food. Also, the sugar dragon doesn't know that homemade Larabar technically follows all the rules. All he knows is that he wanted a sweet snack, and you gave it to him (Your sugar dragon could also be female--it totally depends. Personally, my sugar dragon hasn't shown enough of itself yet for me to really get a sense of its personality--HOWEVER--I'm coming up on PMS times so I'm sure there will be more on that soon.)
ANYWAY.
Those following the Whole30 protocol are given the charge to not have sex with their pants on with food--figuratively speaking, of course--which means a lot of common food "groups" are completely off the table.
This is where I think the Whole30 way of life deviates sharply from the Paleo diet. Now, I have not done any reading about Paleo and only really know what I can glean from social media and pop culture--which is nothing accurate, I'm sure--so I will refrain from passing any judgement on the Paleo diet at this time.
I will say this: Whole30 and Paleo are not the same thing.
Like I said, I don't know exactly what the "guidelines" for Paleo are, which is why I hesitate to say that anything I eat is Paleo. I have a sneaking suspicion it is a square/rectangle situation--where everything Whole30 could be considered Paleo, but everything considered Paleo is not necessarily Whole30. You know what I mean? (And please correct me if I'm wrong.)
I follow a lot of Paleo food-bloggers on Instagram and my feed is constantly bombarded with the most delectable, indulgent, mouth-watering, cavity-inducing foods that could easily rival work from the Paula Deens of this world. Kudos to those people for achieving the right texture, taste, and consistency everyone knows from the "real" thing using ingredients that you have to take out a small loan to afford at the natural foods store. Please pardon my inability to see what is "primal" about any of the recipes in a cookbook entitled My Paleo Patisserie.
I understand that people have food allergies and sensitivities that they are trying to cope with using some of these ingredients, but for the purposes and goals of the Whole30 most of that just doesn't make sense to me.
If I had trouble putting the breaks on eating an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting, replacing that with a pint of "paleo" coconut milk ice cream changes nothing. I'm still going to feel guilty and ashamed afterwards, and in the end it's probably still going to upset my stomach.
The Whole30 mantra of "No slips. No cheats. No excuses." may seem prude and stern--even tyrannical--but I see why it is necessary to achieve a complete hormonal reset. Even if my intentions are pure, sex-with-my-pants-on foods are a slippery slope. And being only a little over halfway through my first 30 days, I can't in good conscience tell myself that I've had nearly enough time to tame my sugar dragon to the point where I could give into temptation and not spiral into a "life of sin", as they say.
So even though a sweet potato pancake brunch sounds amazingly sexy, I will remain celibate for now. It's for my own good.
Sex With Your Pants On--that is.
The creators of the Whole30 coined this little phrase "Sex With Your Pants On" in reference to the practice of trying to recreate comfort foods with compliant ingredients. For example, pancakes made with sweet potatoes, eggs, and coconut flour, or ice cream made from blending up frozen bananas. All of the indulgence, none of the guilt, right? Right?!
Yes, the components of these sex-with-your-pants-on foods are technically Whole30-compliant but in It Starts With Food we are encouraged to think realistically about why we're driven to make these "comfort" foods in the first place. It's probably because we're trying to satisfy a craving, isn't it?
So even if the "treat" we make contains ingredients that may not bother our intestines or stimulate generalized inflammation, we are doing nothing to improve our hormonal response or psychological relationship with food. Also, the sugar dragon doesn't know that homemade Larabar technically follows all the rules. All he knows is that he wanted a sweet snack, and you gave it to him (Your sugar dragon could also be female--it totally depends. Personally, my sugar dragon hasn't shown enough of itself yet for me to really get a sense of its personality--HOWEVER--I'm coming up on PMS times so I'm sure there will be more on that soon.)
ANYWAY.
Those following the Whole30 protocol are given the charge to not have sex with their pants on with food--figuratively speaking, of course--which means a lot of common food "groups" are completely off the table.
This is where I think the Whole30 way of life deviates sharply from the Paleo diet. Now, I have not done any reading about Paleo and only really know what I can glean from social media and pop culture--which is nothing accurate, I'm sure--so I will refrain from passing any judgement on the Paleo diet at this time.
I will say this: Whole30 and Paleo are not the same thing.
Like I said, I don't know exactly what the "guidelines" for Paleo are, which is why I hesitate to say that anything I eat is Paleo. I have a sneaking suspicion it is a square/rectangle situation--where everything Whole30 could be considered Paleo, but everything considered Paleo is not necessarily Whole30. You know what I mean? (And please correct me if I'm wrong.)
I follow a lot of Paleo food-bloggers on Instagram and my feed is constantly bombarded with the most delectable, indulgent, mouth-watering, cavity-inducing foods that could easily rival work from the Paula Deens of this world. Kudos to those people for achieving the right texture, taste, and consistency everyone knows from the "real" thing using ingredients that you have to take out a small loan to afford at the natural foods store. Please pardon my inability to see what is "primal" about any of the recipes in a cookbook entitled My Paleo Patisserie.
I understand that people have food allergies and sensitivities that they are trying to cope with using some of these ingredients, but for the purposes and goals of the Whole30 most of that just doesn't make sense to me.
If I had trouble putting the breaks on eating an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting, replacing that with a pint of "paleo" coconut milk ice cream changes nothing. I'm still going to feel guilty and ashamed afterwards, and in the end it's probably still going to upset my stomach.
The Whole30 mantra of "No slips. No cheats. No excuses." may seem prude and stern--even tyrannical--but I see why it is necessary to achieve a complete hormonal reset. Even if my intentions are pure, sex-with-my-pants-on foods are a slippery slope. And being only a little over halfway through my first 30 days, I can't in good conscience tell myself that I've had nearly enough time to tame my sugar dragon to the point where I could give into temptation and not spiral into a "life of sin", as they say.
So even though a sweet potato pancake brunch sounds amazingly sexy, I will remain celibate for now. It's for my own good.
Monday, April 13, 2015
day 13: ode to the sweet potato
Oh you!
Oh queen of the tuberous roots,
Mother of the morning glories.
What joy!
Out of the dirt springs sweetness,
Glowing of orange and red and brown and gold.
And for me!
You grace the garden then the table,
In every incarnation, you dazzle.
What more?
What more could one ask for,
Then to persistently partake in your pleasure.
Oh you, oh joy!
Dazzle once again,
And I will never tire of you.
Oh queen of the tuberous roots,
Mother of the morning glories.
What joy!
Out of the dirt springs sweetness,
Glowing of orange and red and brown and gold.
And for me!
You grace the garden then the table,
In every incarnation, you dazzle.
What more?
What more could one ask for,
Then to persistently partake in your pleasure.
Oh you, oh joy!
Dazzle once again,
And I will never tire of you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)