andrea tells you about oil pulling

Also, the miracles of MCT.

First of all, oil pulling has nothing to do with poor sad little pelicans suffocating under a layer of crude thanks to maleficent petroleum companies. (But if you didn't watch Rachel Maddow yesterday, be sure to check out her evisceration of BP's feel-good "save da birdies" spot. I'm sure it must be online. Oh, here, servicey. Do we like Rachel Maddow? Of course we do. She's awesome.)

What oil pulling actually is, is an ancient Ayurvedic technique that is--I wouldn't say trendy, but--it's a thing. I came across it accidentally on the internet. Well, duh. Anyway, one would think I would have PTSD about the whole Ayurvedic business, because my boss at the Evil Massage Place was really into it, having studied at the Chopra Center, but one cannot slur a whole ancient tradition just because some less than honest and forthcoming people are into it. So I have an open mind. And oil pulling is this: one swishes a mouthful of oil around one's mouth and through one's teeth vigorously for ten to fifteen minutes (!) and then spits it out. Why? Because it is very good for one's gums and teeth, reversing gum disease and whitening one's teeth and killing all the bacteria in there and getting all the debris out that one can't get at no matter how conscientiously one brushes and flosses. Apparently it makes one's hygienist extremely happy with one, or so internet chit chat would indicate. One small problem is what to do with the spat-out oil. Spitting a mouthful of oil into one's sink every single day would probably make one's plumber very happy too! And what kind of oil do people use for this? Well, several are popular because they have particularly antibacterial properties. Safflower, sunflower, and especially, coconut oil.

Which leads me to MCT oil. Do you know what that is? My son did. In fact, he kinda gave me the "duh" face when I asked if he'd heard of it. "Yeah. Medium chain trigycerides." Duh. Everyone knows that. What those do, apparently, is rev up the metabolism and increase fat burning in the body. They help with ketosis. And that is how I heard of them. D has heard of them because he orders his omega 3s from bodybuilder.com, and the gym rats are all into the MCT oil. And if you don't have the "pure" extracted MCT available, what contains a good load of it? Coconut oil. Besides pulling it through their teeth, people put it in their coffee, cook all their meals in it, and drink it by the spoonful. Uh, only a tablespoonful a day at first, because it you aren't adapted to it, too much is gonna lead to nausea and some probable time in the bathroom.

So, I wanted to try the MCTs before I ever heard of the oil pulling. I asked D to let me know when he was going to order from bodybuilder, so I could buy some with his order and save on shipping. Well, he didn't. And so I wandered into the Vitamin Shoppe the other day and asked if they sold it. They were out or something. But they did have coconut oil. In capsules. Since I wasn't sure I was going to be able to suck it down in my coffee anyway, I said what the hell and bought a bottle. Of course once I got them home and did the math, I figured out that I'd have to take twelve a day to make a tablespoon. Rip.off. But I've been taking them since Sunday and, if they're not doing anything else, they are keeping me regular! Then today I managed to find actual coconut oil (which is actually solid at room tempurature) at Shaws.

So I will be oil pulling! What can it hurt?

xoxo

seriously, i give up

I killed four bugs today before I even left the house, one of which was a moth which I'm sure was eating my effing sweaters before its untimely death, and one of which was a little tiny black thing that was crawling on my arm and which made me go (mentally), "OMG! What is it? What if it's a bedbug?!!?" despite the fact that I was not in bed, it was daylight, and it was not attempting to bite me. I feel like I am teetering on the verge of another bad anxiety period. But maybe it's just PMS. One never knows. (But if you think that thing was in fact a bedbug, please do not write and tell me so. Thanks! You're swell!)

So then I left for work, missed my bus, walked down to the bus stop where all the people want to talk to me to wait for the next one, and yes, spent twenty minutes with this kid who would not shut up, insisted that he knew me, insisted that I must have used to work at Marshalls, asked intrusive personal questions, told me he realized he was asking intrusive personal questions *and* that he was talking way too much, wanted me to pretend to the bus driver that I was his wife... It was fucking exhausting. And I'm pretty sure the reason he thinks he knows me is that he used to be my patient when he was a little kid. He told me how old he is, and the age is right for the person I am thinking of, as are certain of his physical characteristics, but he introduced himself by a different first name than the one I knew him by. On the other hand, the first name I knew him by (with the same first initial) was quite "ethnic" and maybe he just wants to go by something less unusual. In any case, it was exhausting. Did I mention that? Even when D was manic, he wasn't manic "at you" like that.

In any case, you would think I would have learned my lesson by now: don't walk down there, and put your damn earbuds in. I am really sick of people, by which I mean men, not giving me my own little personal space bubble in public. All of yous: I don't want to talk to you, and just because I'm a girl doesn't mean you have a right to talk at me. (I'ma make an exception for probably-convict-Perry, though. He was amusing and charming.) But this has been happening way too much lately. I gotta practice my "just fuck off" face in front of the mirror, because I'm apparently looking too approachable of late.

I'm done bitching!

xoxo

do me a favor

...and take a look at this website and tell me if it sounds shady and/or culty to you. They recently opened a franchise very conveniently located to my home and work, and from what you can see through the windows, it looks quite nice. Plus, the $20 per session of private/semi-private personal training is extremely reasonable, because that shit's expensive.

On the other hand, I know I do not want to follow their nutritional plan. The six small meals a day thing is really, really bad for me. It might do something good for other people's blood sugar and metabolism, but it just makes me ravenous with all the glucose spikes. Plus, the sample menu in the instructional video? 81 grams of carb in just the breakfast, including yogurt with sugar in it? I couldn't watch any more once they started talking about special "no cholesterol" eggs. If they believe cholesterol in your diet causes high blood cholesterol perhaps they should read some studies done after the fucking 1980s. So, no, I would not be following their food plan. But it doesn't seem optional.

Secondly, the whole "we don't accept everyone" thing is obviously a marketing ploy. I don't think people who buy franchises are looking to turn away anyone's bucks. It's all a cross between "if we make you think it's exclusive, you'll want it more" and the culty "oooo, you're special, we like YOU, won't you give us money?" Plus, what does "be coachable" mean? I'm thinking--and you guys know me, so correct me if I'm wrong--I probably am not. I have well-documented issues with authority.

Finally, the accountability thing is very vague and ominous. I could get into some very sick and twisted fantasies about what I would like my buff and terribly good-looking trainer to do if I don't meet my goals, but dudes, I bet they charge you extra penalty fees. (M1 goes to TOPS and they have to pay a token fine if they've gained weight at weigh-in, but I'm betting slick upscale franchise gyms would ding you more than a token amount.) And then, if they're shady, they could easily rig the scales or bodyfat measurement to make it seem like, oh, sorry, you haven't quite made goal, you haven't been working hard enough! Extra charges for you this week!

I think I've probably talked myself out of this, but whadda you think? Am I being overly cynical? Should I drop in and let myself get the sales spiel and argue about their diet plan? Now that I've dropped pretty much all the fat I wanted to, I really want to get everything tightened up and non-flabby and I know that means weights. So it's very very tempting.

xoxo

i.r.bored

It's Saturday morning, I'm at work, and I have nothing to do. Well, I do have a pile of archival CDs that need to be indexed and labelled, but that task is so very very tedious, I am pretending to myself it doesn't exist. I always say that I don't understand how anyone could ever be bored now that we have the interwebs, but I dunno. I am not being diverted at the moment.

So I think the answer to that is, of course, to blog. Then you guys can be bored right along with me. It's genius. First I'll tell you what I inexplicably spent money on yesterday, because I know my purchases are of endless interest. Ahem. I was reading a discussion *on the internet* about bras (that was diverting me!) and I wanted to pimp out my strapless bra, because it is the only strapless bra that I have ever owned that is comfortable and doesn't move, slip, etc etc. It has opened up a new world of summer clothing options for me. I wore a strapless maxi dress the other day! So armed with the number on the tag, I googled to see exactly what it's called, and I posted about it. But the googling led me to online lingerie shops, and because I was avidly reading everyone else's posts about their favorite bras, I kinda got overly excited and bought myself three new ones. Which, seriously, I think all the ones I wear now are like two years old, so a couple of them could be retired. On the other hand? I got my house insurance bill in the mail yesterday (not due till August though) and I had said to my dad, "I think I'm just going to pay the total amount, not do the quarterly thing." So you'd think a person who had decided just a couple hours before that they were going to pay off a big bill wouldn't be buying semi-pretty underwear willy nilly! Especially a person who has caved and started using the A/C. Oh, well. Just think of all the money I'm saving growing my own tomatoes. Ha!

See, I'm less bored already. My own stoopid sense of humor always cheers me up.

Oh, and you know what I used the other night? For Christmas, someone had given me a lavender aromatherapy kit, which I hadn't used, because I'm scared I'm allergic to lavender. Why's that, Andrea? Oh, I have this one ID photo (that I really should have retaken) in which my face is beet red because that week I had used some of the Benevolent L's crunchy granola health food store lavender sunscreen at the beach and had a reaction to it. Now, I think it's because lavender is known to cause photosensitivity, which makes it a fucking ridiculous ingredient to put in, y'know, sunscreen, but I've been kinda scared to use it in anything ever since. But this aromatherapy kit I got had pillow spray in it. You spray it on your sheets and pillows before you get into bed and it's supposed to help you drift off into peaceful slumber. Eh. I'm not sure it did anything. You know what really helps you drift off into peaceful slumber? An orgasm. But they can't merchandise that. Well, no, that's not true. I *have* heard there are stores in which you can buy-- Oh, never mind.

See, now I am really amusing myself. Maybe I can go tackle that tedious, tedious project for an hour. ::sniff:: You have helped me more than you can know. ::tear::

xoxo

updates you've all been waiting for

Oh, hush. Just pretend you listen to anything I say. I won't know the difference.

First of all, and extremely exciting (if you are me): my cherry tomato plants have little tiny green tomatoes on them, waiting to turn yellow! Have we found a species of vegetation Andrea cannot kill? Perhaps! I am psyched. It also occurs to me that I can use them to torture and/or behaviorally modify (pick which term you like) my son when they ripen. D loves garden cherry tomatoes perhaps as much as he likes any food. Very much a favorite. Well, since he's still fairly paranoid about going out into the yard or on the deck, I figure I can tell him he can have all the tomatoes off my plants that he wants, but he's gotta go out and pick them himself. I don't think it'll work--he's pretty good at passing up things he would otherwise really like to have or do in order to avoid the things that make him super anxious--but I'ma give it a shot. Oh, and in other gardening news, I planted some basil like last year, this time from seeds from Burpee instead of, like, Target, and it took it literally over six weeks to sprout. Germinate. Whatever you call it. That seems extreme. And some of the other seeds from Burpee didn't sprout at all. I call bullshit. I'm sticking to Target next year. On the other hand, Burpee did sell me tomato plants I haven't been able to kill, so there is that. And the basil is looking nice presently even if it was slow. And I do like getting their catalogue in the mail every January because it gives me hope. They do have some positives.

Secondly, my resolve to have nothing to do with the Red Sox till my wrath towards them has abated has been thwarted. Both the men in my house, separately, informed me immediately upon my arising "Pedroia got three home runs!!!***" I mean, I don't think I even got a good morning from either of them first. And then I had to listen to how fucking Papelbon blew another save--though it didn't matter because of Pedroia. So, my point is, I cannot boycott them even if I try. Nobody will shut up about the baseball in my house. Sigh.

And lastly, I broke down, gave in, caved. I put the A/C on last night. I couldn't take one more night of trying to fall asleep in 98% humidity. On the downside, there goes spending my electric bill money on pedicures and beer. On the upside, I weighed myself this morning and I was 3 pounds less than the last time I weighed myself on that scale. I think when it's really hot and humid in my house, my body retains water.

xoxo

*** Except my dad calls him "Detroia", like Detroit. This is an improvement over what he used to call him. I think he spent his entire rookie year butchering his name in ways that frankly were unfathomable even for a deaf man, so we don't even try to correct "Detroia" anymore. Close enough.

first thing's first

We are not going to talk about last night's abortion of a baseball game. No, no, no. No.

Now that that's out of the way, let me tell you that it was brought to my attention that other nations, such as the one Carla Bruni's husband runs, have a Minister of Sports. Why do we here in the greatest country in the world not have such a cabinet position? I think Mr Obama should get right on that. Never mind the Gulf and that situation in Afghanistan. Like he's gonna fix any of that anyway. (Bill Clinton was at the World Cup. Maybe he wants to be Minister of Sports! Lots of female olympic beach volleyball players to chat up.)

And speaking of chatting up, let's have a quick review of how to know the person you are attempting to chat up is less than interested. If your intended target is, say, reading, and you speak to them, and they answer politely but immediately try to return to their reading, they would like you to cease and desist. If your intended target answers your conversational gambits, but does not ask you any questions in return (i.e. "what do you do for a living?" is not answered with, "oh, I'm a such and such, what do you do?"), they would like you to cease and desist. And, finally, if they in desperation pointedly mention their "boyfriend" (girlfriend, spouse, whatever), they really would like you to cease and desist. Paying attention to this little bit of social intelligence may not get you laid more, but it isn't gonna get you laid less, lemme tell you.

Okay! Everyone have a lovely afternoon and stay out of that killer humidity. And if you must venture out into the killer humidity, use some product in your hair. (Is this a full-service blog or what?)

xoxo

like i was saying

See? I feel better already.

xoxo