household yay
Sep. 17th, 2008 10:29 amEgads. I'm turning into house people.
So, last night. I found ROMAN SHADES THAT HANG FROM CURTAIN RODS. I can haz blindz! I can haz privacy without stuffy curtains! I am really excited about these things. They are only in the living room, as even on mad sale, they were pricey. Stuff to cover windows is expensive!
Also, I am grumpy at the lovely rainy weather for making my grass grow yet making it impossible to mow.
So, last night. I found ROMAN SHADES THAT HANG FROM CURTAIN RODS. I can haz blindz! I can haz privacy without stuffy curtains! I am really excited about these things. They are only in the living room, as even on mad sale, they were pricey. Stuff to cover windows is expensive!
Also, I am grumpy at the lovely rainy weather for making my grass grow yet making it impossible to mow.
i hereby change my mind (again)
Apr. 29th, 2007 09:12 pmBeer? Is actually quite tasty.
It turns out that all these years while people were trying to give me beers that were nasty, there were in fact a perfectly decent set of beers off somewhere else. Who knew?
I just thought you might want to know. I'm currently enjoying a tiny bit of Chimay and feeling very monkish in my quiet house with my chalicey beer glass. It's all complicated, like a good chocolate or coffee. Yum.
It turns out that all these years while people were trying to give me beers that were nasty, there were in fact a perfectly decent set of beers off somewhere else. Who knew?
I just thought you might want to know. I'm currently enjoying a tiny bit of Chimay and feeling very monkish in my quiet house with my chalicey beer glass. It's all complicated, like a good chocolate or coffee. Yum.
food logging the revolution
Nov. 14th, 2006 12:12 pmThis is intriguing: [don't read if lists of people's food are painful reading for you]
incendiaryfood. I'm torn. The idea is that one logs one's food for a handful of days. Particularly if one is fat. Without changing habits or anything, just reporting.
I have this salmon w[W?]ellington at home that I bought on impulse at the Crap Ukrops that turns out to have an Awesome Seafood Counter Guy (and argggghh, lobsters). And I'd like to write about that, or about the fabulous Greek yogurt, croissant and cherries [in winter!] I had at breakfast. Then I'd also have to report my new thing as of today, where I bring really really good quality junk food (you know, organic chocolate, dried cow that was treated nicely before someone offed it, smooshed fruit) to the office so that I can still eat constantly in an office filled with sugar but not eat crap that makes me feel blechky and uncooperative later.
It's pretty easy to grasp a theme there, the massive class privilege of everything I eat. Even the meatball sub I had at lunch was at the posh Arby's behind Wilderness Office Park. The classism of my food is nothing new, though. Nor is it something I fail to remember on a daily basis; I know I eat privilege. I keep hot women around to make fun of my pink lady apples for just that purpose.
I like the this is what I eat. so? aspect of food logging for no diagnostic or dietary change purpose. If nothing else, just experiencing it exposes you to all the self-flagellation that's right on the tip of practically anyone's tongue when food comes up.
But. Isn't that like my food privilege? Or my weird thing with potatoes? I mean, don't we already know that? I think I'm trying to put it in a context of radical activism, and while there's some of that, it's probably more about analysis and introspection.
Still, I present the project for your reflection. Does it make you think?
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I have this salmon w[W?]ellington at home that I bought on impulse at the Crap Ukrops that turns out to have an Awesome Seafood Counter Guy (and argggghh, lobsters). And I'd like to write about that, or about the fabulous Greek yogurt, croissant and cherries [in winter!] I had at breakfast. Then I'd also have to report my new thing as of today, where I bring really really good quality junk food (you know, organic chocolate, dried cow that was treated nicely before someone offed it, smooshed fruit) to the office so that I can still eat constantly in an office filled with sugar but not eat crap that makes me feel blechky and uncooperative later.
It's pretty easy to grasp a theme there, the massive class privilege of everything I eat. Even the meatball sub I had at lunch was at the posh Arby's behind Wilderness Office Park. The classism of my food is nothing new, though. Nor is it something I fail to remember on a daily basis; I know I eat privilege. I keep hot women around to make fun of my pink lady apples for just that purpose.
I like the this is what I eat. so? aspect of food logging for no diagnostic or dietary change purpose. If nothing else, just experiencing it exposes you to all the self-flagellation that's right on the tip of practically anyone's tongue when food comes up.
But. Isn't that like my food privilege? Or my weird thing with potatoes? I mean, don't we already know that? I think I'm trying to put it in a context of radical activism, and while there's some of that, it's probably more about analysis and introspection.
Still, I present the project for your reflection. Does it make you think?