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mid-week brain dump
If you miss your grocery shopping at the weekend because you're helping friends move, you'll have to do it on Wednesday or else go hungry. And then in your wanders through the grocery store you will find yourself having thoughts like What, please, are "whole dried peach wedges"? I get "whole dried raspberries", but how can you have a whole wedge? and Likewise, what is a "fresh frozen meal"? and When did "chai" stop meaning "tea"? and Hey, gluten-free Chex, groovy. (Not the wheat Chex, though.) and Is it still the nine days, or was that guy with unwashed hair in the kosher section just gross?
And other thoughts about cereal. Look, I know a lot of people don't read labels on jars and boxes and things, but I do, and it's not because I count calories, but you do your deliberate thinking about nutritional balances your way, and I'll do it mine -- so I am keenly aware that some cereals give information for a serving size of one cup, and some for a serving size of 3/4 cup. Which, okay, sometimes it's kids' cereals that have the smaller serving size, so whatever, but you know the main point is that they won't let a "serving" be more than about 130 calories, so they calculate the serving size accordingly. Often the sweeter kids'-type cereals will have a full-cup serving size if they're puffy enough to be mostly air, which makes sense.
But what fucks me right off is when one kind of Special K (two kinds, actually; the regular kind and the "red berries" kind, by which they mean "strawberries") has a normal one-cup serving size, and another kind (in this case the blueberry kind, but I confess I didn't consult the cinnamon-pecan and whatever other flavors there are) have the 3/4-cup serving size. FFS.
That's just one item, but in general the accumulated annoyance of the grocery store has made me feel like I'm sick and tired of -- well, of groceries. Which isn't a big step away from being sick and tired of food. The whole business is such an effort. I don't wish I could be a brain in a jar, because I appreciate being able to walk upright and grasp objects and laugh and all that sort of thing, but I'll tell you what, there are days I think I'd be happy with some kind of capsule or IV or something so I could get through life and not keel over from malnutrition.
In other news, here are some thoughts about women's clothing. I swear I can't remember the last time I had a bra strap that didn't fall off my right shoulder. My shoulders are narrow, but somehow my left strap always stays put and (no matter how I adjust the length) my right strap always falls down. I'm thinking of picking up one of those clippy gizmos I see advertised on the television, not because I think there are miracles to be done w/r/t hiding straps under sleeveless tops, but because I feel like drawing the things together in the middle might stop the right one falling off my shoulder all the damn time. But on the other hand, it occurs to me there might be no hope, and no clippy thing on earth can save me, and the only remedy may be to surgically move my right shoulder blade a centimeter one way or the other so the strap doesn't feel the need to slide off it one way or the other and pick the wrong way every time.
In other other news, I understand from the radio that the American Psychological Association has just decided that mental health practitioners should not counsel gay patients that therapy can turn them straight. The newsiness of which, I guess, is that I had no idea they hadn't worked this out years ago.
And other thoughts about cereal. Look, I know a lot of people don't read labels on jars and boxes and things, but I do, and it's not because I count calories, but you do your deliberate thinking about nutritional balances your way, and I'll do it mine -- so I am keenly aware that some cereals give information for a serving size of one cup, and some for a serving size of 3/4 cup. Which, okay, sometimes it's kids' cereals that have the smaller serving size, so whatever, but you know the main point is that they won't let a "serving" be more than about 130 calories, so they calculate the serving size accordingly. Often the sweeter kids'-type cereals will have a full-cup serving size if they're puffy enough to be mostly air, which makes sense.
But what fucks me right off is when one kind of Special K (two kinds, actually; the regular kind and the "red berries" kind, by which they mean "strawberries") has a normal one-cup serving size, and another kind (in this case the blueberry kind, but I confess I didn't consult the cinnamon-pecan and whatever other flavors there are) have the 3/4-cup serving size. FFS.
That's just one item, but in general the accumulated annoyance of the grocery store has made me feel like I'm sick and tired of -- well, of groceries. Which isn't a big step away from being sick and tired of food. The whole business is such an effort. I don't wish I could be a brain in a jar, because I appreciate being able to walk upright and grasp objects and laugh and all that sort of thing, but I'll tell you what, there are days I think I'd be happy with some kind of capsule or IV or something so I could get through life and not keel over from malnutrition.
In other news, here are some thoughts about women's clothing. I swear I can't remember the last time I had a bra strap that didn't fall off my right shoulder. My shoulders are narrow, but somehow my left strap always stays put and (no matter how I adjust the length) my right strap always falls down. I'm thinking of picking up one of those clippy gizmos I see advertised on the television, not because I think there are miracles to be done w/r/t hiding straps under sleeveless tops, but because I feel like drawing the things together in the middle might stop the right one falling off my shoulder all the damn time. But on the other hand, it occurs to me there might be no hope, and no clippy thing on earth can save me, and the only remedy may be to surgically move my right shoulder blade a centimeter one way or the other so the strap doesn't feel the need to slide off it one way or the other and pick the wrong way every time.
In other other news, I understand from the radio that the American Psychological Association has just decided that mental health practitioners should not counsel gay patients that therapy can turn them straight. The newsiness of which, I guess, is that I had no idea they hadn't worked this out years ago.
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