Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Where the hell have you been??

So in discussing my new love of coke zero, I postulate pull out of my ass some theory un-edjumicated leap of faith logic that the corn industry/lobby is keeping natural superrefined cane sugar out of american united states coke drinkers' Coca-Cola Classics and jacking up the incidence of allergy by ubiquitousness... See, high fructose corn syrup is that delicious backbone of coke (im totally a coke fan, i think its the carbonation. back in college i could drink either coke or pepsi, whatever was 2/$5 at andronicos that week-- but once spence/5th college roommate moved in and tainted me with only coke-purchasing in the household, i cant look back...) -- subsidization of the corn industry makes the purchase of HFCS cheaper than using refined cane sugar but not when the corn farmers' subsides are removed from cost-equation... Ultimately the United States government becomes a lefthand conspirator in the injection of corn into our lives with subsidies (so many people are allergic to corn now, too-- wonder why? jump from sugar to corn as corn is cheaper and therefore is the candy/baby formula/processed food industries' dollypop as corporations take on a life of their own and make lobbying an artform)...

...Among all that I wondered if coke in puerto rico was made from sucre or maize-e, and googlegod brought me the pr coca-cola bottling company's webpage (please look at it and tell me whats wrong here), with no help. Also found an sec document on pepsi's pr bottler being censured for falsely misstating profits, no help. And an article on the use of child labor in sugarcane plantations that sold sugar to coca-cola, no help but makes my corn is poisoning us and the government's helping asspull less insightfulbe even more moronic.

Kinda like my life this past month, aka: all over the place and not quite right.

I've been living in the horror of horrors the past month, southern california. Nothing like getting a phonecall on Saturday afternoon and buying the last seat on southwest to orange county that nite (last person on the plane, so you know i got a great seat between the crying baby and the lecherous ninety year old located in the back of the plane after walking the long, literal walk of shame in being the dumbass who didn't queue up three hours in advance in an attempt to be at the head of the southwest cattlecall...) Also nothing like packing six pair of socks and only one pair of underwear, no toothbrush but a leaky tube of toothpaste (i left the cortisone at home, tg for small miracles), and a knitting project to which i was slick enough to lose the pattern to once seated wedged into my fullfare seat...


I thought about talking about the whole host of crappy reasons why I was in so cal, but 4 weeks of tempering has me thinking I just want to talk about ANYTHING BUT the reason I was there... oh, and anything but poker, at least for this post. So, no poker content, thanks.

[2 of 2 readers disgustedly roll their mousewheels down their rss reader, seething at the suicide of the few braincells necessary to get down the yellowbrickroad to this point.]

I'd forgotten the simple catharsis of screaming down superlane highways with the radio blasting so loud you can't hear yourself singing. And those songs... socal's got a new radio station called jack, (i dig oddjack btw, bill-- just for the possibility of further jacking up hipster any interest in online gambling, but im biased like that)... Songs kept playing that reminded me of socal and the life once led--

letter to elise (cure): john u., who never will get over that ex who dumped him or the 30 lbs she lost after doing so (oh yeah, and broke me in the process)
add it up (violent femmes) : paz, the coolest girl ive ever met
laid (james) : mercadia, kroq weenie roast 1997 front row
ill be missing you (puff daddy) : john d., who i feel bad about all around
the more you ignore me, the closer i get (morrissey) : ray, opening my eyes to the singular thrill of being ms right now and collecting smiths vinyl
21st cent digital boy (social d) : mikie, who im glad didn't end up w. my sister after all
is this love (bob marley) : hugo, took me to my 1st rave, lived out in the boons with no running water, knew me but never said anything about it

I've got great memories of socal, but I still hate it. Hate it for always making me feel [halfbreed, fat, unworthy, self/bodyhate], for being the scene of sh!t like the reason I was away for so long, etc. Too freaking hot, too plastic, too hair-removal.

It's like how I love my family, but, wth?! Favorite mom-quote of the visit [talking about her new doctor who had a SLIGHT accent]: "You know, I never can quite understand orientals, even though I was married to one for so many years." My dad is 3rd gen Japanese & can't speak a word of it, btw.

Anyway. So I'm home and able to blog again. And cook-- going to go serve myself some homemade, oven-baked mac & cheese I made, watch drunken master and walk around the house in my panties and bra, just cos I can again.


3:05:45 PM  
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