Dear FDA: We Hate You Too.

Amish Snow. White Lightning. Horse-N-Buggy-Chug-a-Luggy. Those are just a few of the street names the kids are using when trying to get their raw Amish dairy fix. Luckily, the FDA staged an early morning raid on suspected Amish Milk smugglers. The Amish tried to go all Tony Montana on the brave federal agents trying to put the kibosh on illegal unpasteurized milk distribution rings, but alas, the feds prevailed. The community is once again safe from these bearded menaces.

First, they busted girl scouts selling cookies on street corners. Then they shut down little kids’ lemonade stands as well as people selling extra veggies out of their backyard gardens to neighbors. Now there is a federal case against Amish dairy farmers selling dangerous raw milk contraban. Thank God for the FDA protecting us from girl scouts, children, gardeners, little old ladies trying to board airplanes, and now Amish milk smugglers.

The FDA claims raw milk is a dangerous substance that should “never be consumed by anyone at any time.” Do I need to point out the ridiculousness and hypocrisy here? They actually hand out subsidies for corn, wheat, and sugar. They practically shove high-fructose corn syrup, food dyes, artificial sweeteners, mercury filled vaccines, and statins down our throats- yet they act like Amish farmers are selling jugs of plutonium! I don’t really do much dairy at all myself, but seriously….

This has NOTHING to do with your safety or well-being, it is about money (noticing a pattern here?). The Amish are simply cutting into the big agra-government racket. They just want their cut, and they want to send a clear message that THEY are in control.

Here is a link to the story in the Washington Times.

From Rachel @ Paleo Freedom.

We're Going Paleo!

Thirty days of strict, no-nonsense Paleo diet with TJ should leave me feeling fit and raring to go once I get back in the swing of Capoeira.  I'll hopefully be able to get there if I bag this job at American Airlines (I still doubt, but we'll see.  I don't know how hard it could be...)

I loaded up on carbs this past weekend because I was a stupidhead.  Right now I feel a little lightheaded and sleepy.  I have some slight muscle pain in my biceps and my lower back.  What did I eat to deserve this?  Pizzas, fries, and a little bit of Ramen while my mother wasn't looking.

Wish me luck on this quest of mine.  I'm hoping to be able to go Paleo and not look back after these thirty days, so I'm crossing my fingers for the mood changes, weight loss and better eyesight that came with it last time.

Oh, and remind me to blog for these thirty days.  I really need to keep track of this shit.

Get-Out-of-This-Hellhole 101

There are some times when a momma bird (In this case, a vulture) won't give a baby bird his or her wings.  She's defunct in the brain and instead of teaching her child how to fly, ends up coddling the poor little shit instead.  The baby bird thusly becomes fat, falls out of its nest and dies because it either was too overindulged or was eaten by a wild coyote because it didn't know how to fend for itself.

I don't want this to happen to me.

When I was little, my mother once predicted that I would be the "independent" one.  I can see it in effect right now.  My brother, with his wife and 1.5 kids and big suburban house, is thirty and still has to ask my mother for help and/or advice.  I understand that with this economy, people need to seek help where it is given, but at this point my brother should have been able to pay for his own wedding.  He shouldn't have to ask my mother to help him pay his mortgage, or his bills, ESPECIALLY his phone bills.

But it goes farther back than that.  The roots of this family tree are permanently soiled, diseased and rotting and dying hellish deaths.  I'm serious -- my grandparents are so far in debt that they can barely see, and yet, none of my family realizes that once they're gone, all that debt will be pushed onto their shoulders.  They don't seem to get that all those credit card bills, all those missed insurance payments, all those electric bills have got to go somewhere, and that they are where they're going to go.

It's already tried to pull me down twice: I haven't been able to pay for college, pay for ANYTHING, really, because I already have 18k of debt on my shoulders.  You can thank my mother for that, and her inability to follow through when it comes to, oh, say, PUTTING HER DAUGHTER THROUGH A COMPLETE EDUCATION.  I went to Columbia.  I even stooped so low as to go to Triton, and even that didn't work.  I'm still in debt.  Debt that I'm going to have to pay off 'til I'm forty or fifty and well past the prime age for working.  This is why I need to get out of here.

Of course, my first step is getting a job.  Any job.  In fact, since most of the job offers out there are part time ones, maybe it would be smarter for me to nab two just in case.  After that I'm going to need to save.  It's recommended that you save at least two thousand ($2000) for emergency expenses and/or deposit before you move away from home, but in this case I'm thinking I'm just gonna save as much as I can before February 2012.  And we'll see where it goes from there.

Come February 2012, I'm going to have (Hopefully) already transfered the title on my car to...  Myself.  Since it's in my grandfather's name, he can legally send someone out to steal it from me if he really wanted to.  To be fair, I'm going to be hurting them pretty badly by moving out like this, but I really need that car, and it's supposed to be mine, anyway.  This also means I'm going to be paying off the rest of the car, which started at somewhere around 19k.

February 2012 is also my goal for moving house.  Cross your fingers -- I really hope I get out of here by then, and I hope to Dis it doesn't snow like it has this year.  Moving house means I need storage.  I need to throw shit away.  I need to pack up my boxes.  And I need to do all of this without them noticing.  If they notice, they're going to wonder WTF I'm doing, and then all of my efforts will be shot to hell.  When I'm already out, I can turn away the police officer that turns up at my door.  But before that?  I'm an adult, but there's no question they'd send my brother to tail me as long as they aren't satisfied I'm not being a good little house slave.

There's more to this.  So much more.  Kinda like: Should I take Geisha with me or not?  I don't want to see her abused, but I probably won't be able to afford her either.  Am I gonna be able to afford capoeira?  Probably not.  As a matter of fact, I probably wont' be able to afford most ANYTHING those first couple of months, as long as I have to pay for that car.

Even foregoing all that: Where will I go?  Will I be able to stay in the less expensive suburbs, or will I be made to return to Chicago?  I'd love to, but I don't know where.  I guess I should dust off those old research skills...

Actually, before we get into all that, how about the issue of my birth certificate?  I know who has it.  They rooted through my car when they took it into the shop, and now all I can do is either look for it or get a new one.  I'm thinking I'm gonna get a passport, too.  After all, the more identification I have, the better.

On subject of the car, I really love this:

Illinois Title Transfers
What to Do if I don't Have the TItle

I need to get all of these things in motion...  I guess that means, since it's the only thing I can do right now, I need to procure some cardboard boxes and start storing all my shit somewhere else.

A Lady and Her Shoes...

There are many times when you need the protection and security of a shoe or boot. Like all things in life, there is a balance, and Vibram FiveFingers® provides a healthy alternative to traditional footwear. Wearing FiveFingers for fitness training, running, water sports or just for fun will make your feet stronger and healthier—naturally.

That's a pretty bold claim, for a shoe that looks like it doesn't help you any.

I saw one of my friends wearing these a long time ago and, like some of you, I wondered, "WTF are those?"  It was by chance that I managed to find them again via Nerd Fitness, a blog that I follow infrequently.  They are called Vibram Fivefingers, and I believe that they'd be more than perfect for practicing Capoeira.

Capoeira is a naturally barefoot sport.  You've got to have that maneuverability that most shoes (Like Nike) don't allow.  And if they do, it's supposedly not very healthy for you.  Sucks for us, right?

I, however, am still recovering from a serious bout of Athlete's foot.  I'm not about to trust myself going around in a gym where fifty or so people sweat, stomp, and generally look badass every day.  Why?  Because I don't want them somehow gaining my disease, and I'd rather not have to deal with this horrible fungus ever again.  But playing with shoes is hard because normal athletic shoes don't allow you to jump around, do cartwheels, and slip and fall on your ass when you need to.  Believe me, I tried.

So I'm thinking I'd really love to blow $100 and pick up a pair of these, which are supposed to be awesomely healthy for you and promote going barefoot in sports at the same time.  They're also going to be a crazy fashion statement.  I'm killing three birds with one stone!

PS: For extra fun, read this blog post by Nerd Fitness and see how these foot-gloves hold up when you trek across Australia.  I can tell you that the $170 gym shoes that you bought at Payless would probably be torn up and sodden with mud by the time you finished.

Let's Play Tug of War.

...I've got really good practice.

There's no other way I can describe my situation right now.  If I really wanted to, I could throw a hit to his pride and say he was bending over backwards for people he really shouldn't be doing that for.  I could say that he, I don't know, is trying to make up for the fact that he hit his friend in the head with a lead pipe.  I could say he's doing it to be nice because, well, he's gotta live with these people.  I could say a lot of things, but I won't.  I'll simply say that all of these things make me feel even more like shit every time they happen.

I can understand, I guess, "Placating" people.  My mother does it all the time.  My entire family does it all the time.  Hell, everybody does it all the time.  What exactly is it you do when you "Accept" someone's opinion?  You know in your heart that it isn't true unless you're presented with some incontrovertible evidence, hence you don't really accept it at all.  You say "Okay, that's fine, you believe that and I believe this.  Let's move on."  Or, alternatively, you do what I do and you argue your ass off until you find out which one of you is right, or one of you leaves out of sheer frustration.  It's not that we "accept" anything.  We're programmed by everyone who says "Be who you want to be" to NOT accept other peoples' opinions, and yet we're also brainwashed into 'playing nice" with our peers, and conforming to the niceties of the world.  This is where arguing ensues.  You're not sure what to do so you don't play nice and you seek the acceptance that "Being who you want to be" entails.  You think your way of life is right, and then you learn, "Well shit.  I fucked up."

The problem lies here: There are weak-willed people, and there are strong-willed people.  There are also hordes of people like the Church who will attempt to tell you what's right and wrong.  They are strong by default because they run on the support of their members and, well, you've got to be strong to be able to stomach the amount of absolute shit that they spoonfeed you when you're in Religion class.  Anyone who's been bullied knows that when the bully loses his cronies, shit goes down because the one who had support has now lost it, and doesn't know what to do, or how to think on his own. 

Inevitably, whether you're weak- or strong-willed, the truth will out.  Everyone told Columbus that the Earth was flat.  Well thank Dispater it isn't, otherwise most of the US Navy would be dead at this point.  However, for those more trivial manners, it's up to the ordinary people to solve their ordinary problems.  Here's where "Survival of the Fittest" really comes in.  When you're dealing with He-Said-She-Said, it's more often than not very hard to track down the source of whatever rumor's going about.  Thus, the people with a stronger drive to be "right", or the people with the stronger drive to know the truth will always win.  They will always win because they have the drive to find what they are looking for, or the weak will bow out because, well, they're weak.  They either don't want to deal with your bullshit or they don't know how to.  It's an imperfect system, but there you have it. 

If you follow me, then you can easily apply labels to those who I'm referring to.  The people pleasers, the ones who just want everything to be happy and gay are not necessarily weak-willed.  There are some very awesome people out there who literally fight for happiness, and more power to them.  But usually, when faced with someone more aggressive, they'll bow out because what they ultimately want is peace.  It is for this reason that they can so easily "Play nice" and ultimately lose their faces as individuals.  Peace is a very lonely place if you don't have friends to share it with, after all.  The problem is that when those "Peaceful" people have issues, they start dealing with it in a really bitchy manner.  Hence, they backstab.  Why?  Because a 100 lb lightweight isn't gonna go up against The Undertaker unless he's gone insane or has a death wish.  Yes, I've just made a wrestling reference.

There are then the outcasts -- the people that lean more toward "Be Myself" than "Let's All Get Along."  I used to have a lot of respect for these people before I realized, well shit, they're just a more bitter bunch that, all the same, still form cliques and seem to have that need for interaction that other people do.  There aren't a lot of people who are okay with losing their friends if it means that they've got the truth in their hands.  A lot of people would seemingly die without human interaction, and apparently that's a scientifically proven fact.  But the thing is, the truth should be more important than anything.  It should be more important than your dog.  It should be more important than your roommates.  It should be more important than your parents, that girl you had a crush on in Fifth grade and that shitty boss that you know you've got to please or else you won't get that ten dollar raise you've been wanting.  It should be more important.  I did some stupid shit for truth and ended up fucking myself in the ass because, ultimately, I ended up failing to tell it myself.  But that's what experience does.  Experience brings you to these types of realizations.

Have I digressed?  Oops.

The point is, telling the truth, at least, your version of the truth, is infinitely more important than pleasing someone, as it always should be.  Some people just don't get that, and I almost think that such is the case with TJ and I.  I don't know if I'm that person that he can't tell the truth to.  I don't know if he's hiding it from me because he loves me or if he really is defending me behind closed doors, and he just doesn't see that it either wasn't effective or...  I don't know.  But I'll tell you the truth the way I see it.

These people are not being very civil people.

There's something to be said for high schoolers: They may be brats, they may not be right, but at least they're real with you.   At least they'll look you in the eye and say "You are not my authority, and I do not answer to you."  There is NOTHING to be said for people who talk behind others' backs, who have a problem and don't bring it up, who complain without having a reason to.  I, meanwhile, have absolutely no way of reaching these people, because these people, well, frankly, won't listen to me.  They've had enough of me and they won't really budge on that because, uh, well, they haven't moved past high school.  They don't know that first impressions aren't something you should really fixate on.  If it was, well, I'd have kept a lot of friends from Giles.  First impressions don't work because you don't consistently keep that 'impression.'  No one is happy and polite and bubbly all the time.  You cannot expect anyone to be that way, and you cannot expect someone who firmly believes in being herself to even be that way at all, if that isn't the way she acts.  They also haven't gotten to that point where they know the difference between "Ignorance" and "Civility."  They don't know that outright ignoring that person in the hall when they say "Hi" to you is, in fact, more rude than when that person confronts you and asks what your problem is, because at least something can be accomplished by confrontation, if nothing else than to tie up loose ends and part ways. 

I have no idea why the one who is supposed to love me most in the world supports this behavior.

I'm not sure why the man who is supposed to defend my name and my honor sees it fit that others treat me this way.  Get it straight, I am not complaining.  But when I can't reach the people I want to reach (Because quite frankly, these people are ALLOWED to slam the door in my face, seeing as I'm consistently invading their territory), then who am I to turn to but the one link I have with them?  I'll say it again: This is not civility.  Civility is giving someone a smile and a wave when you're too cowardly to say 'hello'.  Civility is being able to make conversation instead of blatantly ignoring you and talking to your boyfriend instead.  Civility is everything my prissy, preppy mother taught me to do, and I do it for his sake, but I'm not going to continue doing it if he doesn't seem to care whether I do it or not.  It's quite easy to see that he doesn't, because he agrees with them on everything that I've done.  Everything that I've done has been bad. 

"Hey, Caitlyn ripped down this paper that I put up."  "Oh...  Um...  Yeah...  Yeah that was pretty bad."  Is not a defense.  That is agreement.  Or at the very least, that's a deer being caught in headlights.  Allow me to be a petulant brat here, and request that I have a boyfriend who will REALLY show that he loves me for who I am, and who will say "That's what she does, this is why." instead of agreeing that I've done something bad.  I wish that the man I'm in love with would stand up for me and tell the people I'm having a problem with, "You know what, that's who she is, and I love her for it, so you can either stuff it or suck my dick."  instead of agree that I "started that 'Hipster' thing" (I didn't.), "Started shit with our friends that she shouldn't have." (I didn't, and if their friends have such weak stomachs that they can't handle me when I'm being myself, we're all better off without them), or "Is morally corrupt." (I still stand by the fact that that 2000 dollars would have been wasted if I'd waited any more than five hours.)

I'll say this: It's their house.  And that's fine.  But if they pick fights with me then the fight isn't over until I'm dead and dust.  I, however, am not allowed to fight on their turf because they are the type of people who would rather avoid confrontations they can't handle rather than try and learn from their failure.  I need my boyfriend.  I need him to know that him agreeing with them is making me feel like shit.  I need him to know that if he wants to bend over backwards to please them then I need to go somewhere else, because I don't have the time or want to deal with people who haven't aged since they were sixteen.  I need the man who loves me to show that he loves me through everything.  That's what true love is.  That's what I'm continually searching for.  That's what I waited for.  If I can't have that...  Then why am I here?

Fascinating.

I am Petitioning Stoner Vids.

Before I go on this potentially VERY LONG RANT...  I just want to say WOO, new blog.  I think it fits Dis a lot better than the old layout, considering...  Well, the old layout reminded me of church and all things perfect and holy and...  Giles-y.  Let's not go there, but I'm glad I changed the layout.  Aren't you?

So yes.  Stoner vids.

I'm sure many of you enjoy a good laugh once in a while.  Sometimes, it's at the expense of Wile E. Coyote.  Sometimes, it's because that one classmate you hate just hit himself in the face with his pen.  And sometimes...  Well, sometimes you've just got to have a great big guffaw in the general public's direction.

I don't know, but I think 'Your Highness' just kind of spat in King Arthur's face.  For fun.  I don't take kindly to that.

I'm not sure what I expected when I walked into this movie.  I knew the type of audience it would draw and I was apprehensive at best (Because...  Does anybody here actually picture me as willingly walking into this type of movie?)  But for some reason, the bastards at Cinemark decided not to show 'Arthur' this week.   Hence, we decided we'd settle for this...  Erm...  [Insert nicer term than 'Abomination' here.]

Those of you reading this are probably aware that your tastes in humor and my tastes in humor greatly differ (If not, then kudos.)  We can thusly infer that while you would probably be sitting through this movie either giggling your arse off or shaking your head in amusement, I would either be stewing silently beside you or dropping my jaw in awe of the debacle that has managed to sweep the nation's movie theaters, however briefly that may be.

Thankfully, the critics agree with me.  Rotten Tomatoes (Bless them) gave this film a 25% on its ratings.  I'm choosing to blatantly ignore the 50% of users who did like it, because, well, most of the population tends to need to wear dunce caps on a daily basis in the first place.  Roger Ebert, whom everyone should know lest I chop off your necessary bits and feed them to the general populace for sheer stupidity, said:

"Your Highness" is a juvenile excrescence that feels like the work of 11-year-old boys in love with dungeons, dragons, warrior women, pot, boobs and four-letter words. One of the heroes even wears the penis of a minotaur on a string around his neck. I hate it when that happens.

 And...  Well, he's right.  Though I did somehow manage to find the idea of wearing a minotaur's penis around my neck morbidly amusing, the film was just...  Bad.  The humor was bad.  The lewd visuals and less-than-charming script were bad.  The actors, some of whom I adore (Natalie Portman: HOW COULD YOU?) were bad.  Even the fight scenes were bad.  Bad.  Bad.  Just...  Bad.

But wait, just how bad is it?  Let's see what good ol' Ebert has to say about Portman's performance:

Natalie Portman is the Xena clone, a fierce warrior, laid on for anime fans who seem to regard such characters as masturbatory fantasies. She too has no personality, although she has more dialogue, all of it expressing cliches of steely determination.

Oh shit, that's pretty fucking bad.  Not to mention, those poor boys who would regard her character as material for 'masturbatory fantasy' would probably find themselves dickless within three seconds if her character (Isabel, if you really must know) ever found out.  I love Ebert for pretty much blatantly saying "GO OUT AND GET LAID FOR REALS INSTEAD OF WATCHING SHITTY MOVIES."

I could be wrong.  Maybe I'm being too hard.  Maybe I should watch it again just to make double, triple sure I'm not going to be buying this movie for Christmas?

...Or maybe I just need to smoke AN ENTIRE FIELD OF CANNABIS to properly enjoy it?

Nevertheless, I had fun.  There was a mechanical bird named Simon and a squire named Courtney that funnily enough reminded me of a girl from Giles that would fit nicely in this setting.  So I guess this film wasn't all bad.