If I Enter Connecticut, I'm Entering Every State Connecticut's Ever Been With.

I am not a finicky eater, as made testament by my drumstick-esque thighs. If I'm eating and someone warns me they're about to tell a gross story, I wave it off, proudly declaring that I have an ironclad stomach.

I think I get it from my dad, who, unable to let food go to waste, held an impromptu frying session for the packs of discolored bacon left in the fridge, unwrapped, for weeks. I distinctly remember distrustingly staring at a pile of fried bacon, while Dad happily munched away saying, "It won't kill ya. All the germs were killed by the heat." Then after further meditation, "People say they're starving...they can eat like kings if they want to! Just gotta get it out of their heads!"

And so it was I ate the once green-tinged bacon and learned frugality alongside morality.

So it's pretty astounding to me when the thought of certain foods can lead me to physical repulsion. Before this afternoon, the only food on my gag list was beets. Although, I have had them prepared well in recent months; it's just hard for me to get the canned dirt taste out of my mind from meals of yore. And liver is pretty gross. And curry...yeah, ANYTHING with curry is out of bounds for me. And pickled ginger. And canned meats. And I'm pretty leery of gelatins - the goo on canned ham, aspic made to gloss up baked goods and fish, some of that funky green Japanese seaweed. Relish. Mealy Red "Delicious" apples. I think that's it.

What happened today? One of my coworkers very kindly set out some homegrown watermelon for the whole office to enjoy. Now, I love me some watermelon, but this stuff came with a past.

She emailed the staff, telling us to enjoy the watermelon grown in her "backyard, home sweet home Des Plaines."

I know what you're thinking. What's wrong with that?

Nothing. I was really happy to have watermelon. I like this coworker. I have nothing against her backyard. But Des Plaines is another story.

Do you know what happened in Des Plaines? Uh, John Wayne Gacy lived there, murdered a bunch of boys and buried them in his crawlspace. Back in the 70s. Guy dressed like a clown, abducted teen boys...shiver. I watched the really awful movie about him, aptly titled Gacy, and I couldn't even watch it all the way through because I got sick to my stomach.

Me. Sick to my stomach. And every time I see Des Plaines, I think of Gacy, and how even after they bulldozed his home they still can't get buyers for the property.

So I hope you can imagine my stream of consciousness as I read the email. It went like this:

WATERMELON!
Refreshing!
Homegrown!
Des...Plaines?
Gacy.
Dead boys...
Concrete...
Lye...
Maggots...
Seeping into the soil...
Food grown in that soil...
Osmosis...photosynthesis...
= Gacy's victims!

Yeah. I know it's irrational to think that murder victims from the 70s can fertilize food grown in the same town nearly 40 years later, but it's not that much of a stretch. And yes, people are buried in graveyards all the time, so the likelihood of them being part of my food is pretty high, too...but it's different. It's the thought of that horrible, criminal, putridity that makes me gag. My stomach is turning as I write this, that's how freaked out I am by Gacy.

So, I can't eat that watermelon. I even hovered over it for a minute, contemplating the choice. I just cannot eat it.

So there you have it: more evidence that I am a fuh-reak.

So there's that,

Laura

MOO & OINK!

I swear I'll write something new when I get a chance, but for now you'll have to deal with this while I'm busy wrapping up a project.

There's a meat purveyor in Chicago with the silliest jingle I've ever heard. Makes me belly laugh every time I hear the last three words of it - "moooOOOOOO and OOYEEENK!"

I've been meaning for weeks to search for it on YouTube, but I kept telling myself that no one could possibly have found this as interesting as I have. I was wrong.

Enjoy!

The Whole Jingle, Str8 Up:



Talent Show Dance Routine:



Do the Wave:



Um, Check the Barrels of Chicken Wings at 0:26:



*record scratch* REEEE-MIX!!



I'm not so much about the guy in the last vid, practically jerking it over his genius, but this bitch needed a remix - KNOWUTI'MSAYIN'? Cow and Pig telling people to eat them? YEAH BOY!

So there's that,

Laura

Trippin'

I'm flying to San Francisco in October for a weeklong conference.  It's the BIG DEAL all year long for my organization, so at the end we're all breathing a sigh of relief.

 

For my big sigh, I'm staying in town three extra nights for a mini vacation.  And the best part?  My pallie Christie is flying in from Las Vegas (where she lives now) and joining me!  We're going to, as I say, "give San Francisco blue balls."

 

We just booked a little Euro-style hotel for less than 200 smackers for the whole weekend, so we're a little excited.  I decided to post some of the best exclamations that have come out of our emails.  Please to enjoy.

 

• PS, we can probably get crabs there, if you catch my drift.
• I don't need no steenking television!  We can make shadow puppets!
• I'mma need to pack a bunch of uppers!  Let's just do meth all weekend to get the most out of it.
• Do you realize how much fucking fun we're going to have?  Do you?
• I can't wait until I'm tipsy and try to go to bed at night, but realize I have to pee like 20 times and have to keep going out into the hallway bathroom to tinkle. 
• 'cept I ain't going back Chicagy way till Sunday!
• I can't wait to share a bathroom with strangers.  Do you think we'll make lifelong friends on this journey?  I'll have to leave a few pubes in the tub for them to remember me by.
• Girl, you know we're gettin' seafood, right?  I'm sick of this midwest bubba gumpery. 
• I wanna see flayed ducks and pigs hanging from windows.  I wanna see Jet Li in a street fight.
• We should have a picnic on that hill in front of Danny Tanner's house, like they do in the opening credits to Full House.  Better yet, we should film our own shot for shot reenactment of that opening sequence.  Right?  Right.
• We should find a shady store that has a secret back room full of knock-off designer handbags.
• I can smell the pleather Gucci bags and taste the dumplings as we speak!
• I wanna buy a mogwai from an oriental.
• You what else I can't wait for?  To take a gigantic dump in the shared bathroom. 
• I can't wait to get drunk and walk the streets with you just like old times.  REALLY MARGE?!
• every time i get an email about this trip, i clap my hands together like a baby seal!  OR OR OR! 
• Everytime I get an email about this trip I fart in a jar and close the lid and then open it and smell it later.
  

How effing excited am I?  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

So there's that,

 

Laura





 

Tomorrow's Walk

I've been hitting the gym all week in preparation for tomorrow's walk. This one has me taking the Metra to Kenilworth, marching east toward the lake and heading south back home. This is the map:


View Larger Map

I figure it's better for me to start at the top of the line so that if I start to crap out or get injured a few miles into the trek, I won't have to travel far in the city for a bus or a train.

The estimated distance? Between 12-13 miles. The map estimates 12.6, but I know I'll be heading a little farther east on the walking paths. I'm taking my pedometer along for a more accurate measurement.

Please pray that I have no problem finding toilets along the way.

So there's that,

Laura

A Whole Weekend of Events and All I Have to Show for It is a Lousy Fart Blog?

I still can't believe I haven't written about my amazing weekend yet.

 

In preparation for Saturday's 10 mile march, I stepped out on Friday for a 5 mile walk to the gym and over an hour of intense calisthenics, followed by a cool down on the elliptical for 20 minutes.  It felt great!  My new favorite thing is the Bosu Ball:

 

 

I like to use it for back support when I'm doing oblique work with a medicine ball.  I also like to turn it upside down for use as a balance board.  A few months ago, I was AWFUL at balancing on this thing.  Now that my legs and core have gotten stronger, I can handle it pretty well.  My gym has a room full of stripper poles for pole-dancing classes, so I put the ball next to one of those and use it to support myself as I climb up.  Then I  do some squats, grabbing the pole only when I'm going to crash.  I like to link my fingers and stretch my arms over my head, seeing how long I can stay balanced.  The possibilities are pretty endless.

 

I also got me a baller ass pair of New Balances.  I don't want to dig up the pic, but they're babe blue, and they cushion my heels like God would if He were a foot fetishist.

 

I carbed up on Friday night with a baguette and my favorite Italian bean salad from L'Appetito.  I need to learn to make this stuff - it's amazing!  It's made up of 3 types of beans tossed in this herbed vinaigrette.  I use the baguette to sop up the excess vinaigrette.  Normally I'm not a fan of oily dressings, but this sauce is PERFECT.

 

I woke up Saturday and l stayed in bed for awhile to make sure I wasn't going to fall back asleep.  Okay, I was just avoiding the inevitable.  I made an egg white omelet with asparagus and horseradish cheese (raved about in Hot Beef Injection), downed a pot of coffee, and checked the weather.  I took my time getting dressed up because I wanted to make sure I was prepared...and I needed to take a precautionary dump before I hit the trail.

I finally left the apartment at 12:00 pm, took the Red Line north to the Purple Line, and took the PL all the way to the end of the line - Linden.  I'll tell ya, the Linden stop is nothing to write home about, so I will.  I know the area pretty well now, because I had to scour it for a public bathroom once I got off the train.  I went to this little coffee shop, and knowing they probably wouldn't let me pee with out purchase, I got one of their "all fruit smoothies."  When I asked what it was made of, the guy was like, "It's all fresh fruit."  Suuuuuure it is.  I didn't want to argue so I laid my money down, went to the bathroom and picked up my smoothie.  Another customer came in and asked what was inside it, and he said, "Well, it's ice and this frozen fruit puree we get shipped in....but it's made from real fruit."  I KNEW IT!  I was eating a sugar-happy treat.  Oh well.  I guess I needed the carbs.

 

The walk pretty much went according to plan.  I headed east, took a gander at the Baha'i temple, and headed south back home.  The first part of the trip was pretty boring; Wilmette's lakefront is pretty much private property of mansion dwellers, so I had to stick to Sheridan road.  I went through the Northwestern University campus and had to stop for a pee break at a chapel, which I practically had to break into.  Not really.  I just couldn't work the door closest to the road, and had to walk around back to the public entrance, but I left through the first door I tried.  I think I left it unlocked.  Oh well, they have security guards for that business.

 

When I hit the northside of Evanston, I got to a beachfront path that was more enjoyable.  I got to see some of the aircraft whizz by for the Air and Water Show.  Saw a stealth bomber that nearly made me soil myself.

 

I stopped at the 6 mile mark for a brief rest at the Subway on the Loyola campus.  They were kind to me last weekend when I asked to use their restroom.  I got a turkey sandwich and took a half hour to refuel.  I had to train myself to walk again once I left.

 

The rest of the trip was uneventful.  I started to wear down at the mile and a half mark, but I did succeed in my quest.  I thought I would jump up and down once I got to Irving Park Rd, but I just couldn't.  I stretched and bounced my knees a little, but I don't think anyone could confuse that with the joy of a champion.  Plus I had a pretty shitty look on my face. 

 

I stopped for some G2 - the lower-cal Gatorade that I love.  The clock by the cash register read 5:30, and for the first time in 4 miles, I smiled.  I made in just the time I expected. 

 

I took a shower and a long bath, read some of my book.  At about 7:30 I headed out to get some dinner, and I had no idea what I wanted.  I wasn't feeling hungry, but I was, and I could eat anything - my mind raced between chicken, pancakes, Taco Bell, White Castle.  The world was my oyster.  As I left, I was talking to my friend Eric on the phone, and I ended up mindlessly hobbling for another mile or so down the street when I realized I was in painful ballet flats with no arch support.  I hung up, and walked into Stella's Diner, if only because I didn't want to walk anymore.

 

I got me a side salad with ranch dressing, a roast beef Manhattan - an amalgam of white bread, sliced roast beef, gravy and mashed potatoes - and I finished the whole thing off with apple cobbler a la mode.  It was glorious.  Again - I didn't feel hungry, but I attacked that Manhattan like I was King Kong.  I shoveled food into my mouth without cutting it, some pieces as big as 4 inches in diameter.  I couldn't get enough.  The salt, the carbs, the protein?  I could have had another plate of that shizz.

 

I went home and popped some Tylenol, and I wasn't even sore the next day.  It was a pretty good weekend.

 

This week:  Kenilworth to Irving Park.

 

So there's that,

Laura

Blue Flame

I'll tell you all about my walks this weekend, but quickly:  A story.

 

Shana and I went to Chipotle for lunch, where we shared a booth.  The interior of Chipotle is designed like an upscale junkyard - corrugated aluminum paneling, lacquered plywood chairs and benches - all very stark and echo-y.

 

So Shana's across from me, talking about her life's path, resting one foot on my seat.  I have to fart.  And I think, "How wicked would it be if I just let it out?  It's loud in here, no one will notice.

 

Bluhbluhbluhbububububububububububububububububububuuuuut!

 

This fart was a Level 5 CheekQuaker. 

 

I didn't think Shana would catch on...until I saw her shift in her seat.  My ears were still ringing from the rumble, my mind spinning from the sheer joy of anonymous flatulence, so I didn't hear the first few sentences she uttered post-fart.

 

"What?"  Quoth I.

 

"I felt that."

 

"Felt what?"

 

"The bench rumble when you farted..."

 

"What!  You felt that!"

 

"In my foot.  Then I saw the look on your face, like a baby that's trying to poop."

 

Then I laughed and LAUGHED.  Because nothing is funnier to me than a fart among friends.  It truly made my day.

 

Now I can't stop.  I had loads of fiber last night, a high-fibe cereal this morning, beans at Chipotle, AND Diet Coke.  I'm burp n' fart factory.  I imagine my bowels operating like a bouncy cartoon tugboat in my belly.  The human body is an amazing machine.

 

 

 

So there's that,

 

Laura

 

 

BT Dubs? I Love Omelets

Dig this:  I used to not be so crazy on eggs.  Now they're a major part of my life:  weekend breakfasts are incomplete without them; egg sandwiches are the perfect cheap lunch food; and omelets are quick dinners.

 

I bring this up because I think I've got a new favorite omelet.  It was born out of a need to get rid of a wheel of brie that I bought on impulse a few weeks ago.  I didn't really buy it on impulse, but I wanted to have a wine, cheese and fruit dinner without having to walk too far in my pajamas for the provisions.  So I went down to the corner market and the only decent cheese they had was this 6-inch wheel of brie.  After I had my dinner of sauv blanc, cheese, water crackers, and nectarine, I needed to think of ways to use the leftovers.

 

My answer?  The Yuppie Omelet.

 

The Yuppie Omelet

Serves One

 

3/4 c egg substitute (or 3 eggs or 5 egg whites)

1/2 c chopped frozen asparagus (or fresh)

1-2 oz brie, cubed (rind removed)

salt, pepper, garlic powder, red pepper flakes

 

Side Salad:

2 c fresh spinach

1/2 c halved cherry tomatoes

1 nectarine, thinly sliced

Your favorite balsamic vinaigrette (I use Trader Joe's Low-Fat Bals Vin or Annie's Pomegranate Vinaigrette)

 

Heat a nonstick pan over medium heat.  Spritz with nonstick spray or 1/2 tsp of olive oil.  Toss in chopped asparagus and saute until heated through and crisp-tender.  Sprinkle with salt, garlic powder and pepper, toss together, and spread asparagus evenly over the pan.  Pour on the eggs/substitute, season with a little more S&P and red pepper flakes.  Don't stir.  After the eggs have cooked for 1 minute, drop the cheese evenly over the eggs.  Cover the pan and reduce heat to medium-low.

 

While the omelet finishes, take out a plate and put a little vinaigrette on the bottom.  Pile on the spinach and tomatoes, and using your fingers, toss the veggies with the dressing.  Arrange the salad so it covers half of the plate, then top the greens with the nectarine slices.  Salt and pepper if desired.

 

When the omelet has puffed up and the cheese has melted, fold it half.  Creamy cheese grease should ooze out of the sides.  That's the stuff.  Let the omelet cook like that for another minute while the cheese seals and the eggs are sure to cook through.  Slide the omelet on the other half of your plate, and you've got a yuppie treat.

 

Late for The Webinar

 

So there's that,

 

Laura