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Margaret Katzeek and her 2-year-old niece Elayna are at the snack table. Charges were laid recently against owners at four different gift shops for falsely claiming some of the art they sold was made by Alaskan indigenous artists. We met in the parking lot, which was inexplicably full at 1: Twitchell led a small workshop on formline, alternating between discussing the basics of the art form to having participants practice. Come home to find that everyone has an itchy rash from the hayride. Mummified human remains were found with it, and a helicopter was sent to retrieve the remains and artifacts. It was by no means disgusting or inedible.

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Add a gallon of whole milk and a Styrofoam carton of eggs. Wait for the hurricane to pass. Listen for the eye of the storm, but have enough sense not to go outside. Use hurricane lamps for their intended purpose once the power goes out. Once the storm has ended, take down the plywood, go out and survey the damage.

Clean up your yard, help your neighbors clean up their yards, put a tarp on the roof until the hardware store reopens and you can nail up some new shingles. Read about the storm the next day in the local newspaper.

Make coffee, heat beans and Dinty Moore beef stew on the Weber and the Coleman on the back patio until the electric comes back on. Invest RLS has formed off the coast of Africa.

There was probably even a John Stossel documentary about it. TD 87 has now become an ohmygod Tropical Storm named Madissynne. Shizz just got real. The Hurricane Hunters are already flying into the center of this thing. There is a cone. It is 1, miles wide, but where you live is in it. Xanax is needed STAT. Your anxiety is through the freaking roof. Thank God there is round the clock coverage. Find adorable retro hurricane lamps at Z Gallerie. What are these things for anyway? But wow, are they so cute!

Watch as the TV meteorologists compare this to every hurricane in recorded history, especially all the ones with high body counts. The pressure is dropping.

At this rate, this thing is going to be a Category Wait 3 hours at the gas station to top off your car. Take a picture of the gas lines and post to Facebook. Rush to Home Depot and Costco so that you can buy plywood for something? HurricaneMadissynne is now a thing. Your friends are texting you funny hurricane memes, but one of them shows a satellite image of the storm and it looks like a skull and the world is definitely ending and this is a sign.

Crack up over that PM your bestie sent you with the cats blowing in the wind. All the things includes two cases of wine. How can something like that even happen? Look on Pinterest for ideas.

Remember to panic when you hear the Hurricane Madissynne has the lowest recorded pressure of any hurricane in the Atlantic basin since the last hurricane a few weeks ago that also had the lowest recorded pressure in the Atlantic basin. Try to make sense of all the vastly conflicting forecast tracks. It basically looks like a toddler scribbled on a map. Jim Cantore has arrived in your town and he is wearing his tight black tee shirt.

If Anderson Cooper shows up in his tight black tee shirt all hope is lost. Post something inspiring on Facebook so that if you die people will remember you as being really compassionate and yoga-like. Fuuu — yoga is canceled. Are you kidding me??

Lock your impact glass windows and breathe a sigh of relief that you are so well prepared for your impending death. Conditions are totally deteriorating. There is a press conference with the governor and he has a Spanish translator and the person next to him doing sign language, which means that this is a really, really, really grave situation. Wait with baited breath for the 8pm advisory to tell you that yup, this is really happening.

Watch as local news reporters stand on the beach and act like they are blowing away while tourists frolic freely behind them in Speedos. Realize you have already eaten all the beet chips. Tell yourself that you are only allowed to eat raw fruits, veggies, almonds and green tea during this crisis. Eat everything in the house. The snacks are pretty much gone now and it's barely windy. Where is this storm that was supposed to kill us? Time to go to the beach and take selfies. There are literally hundreds of other people taking selfies on the beach along with you.

Your Instagram is LIT. Go back home and wait for conditions to deteriorate some more. Plow through all of your snacks and drink more wine. Apparently sudden drops in barometric pressure can cause insatiable hunger.

These things are unpredictable. Obviously, better safe than sorry. Several angry tweets later… hurricanemadissyn dodgedabullet. We are monitoring the situation closely….

I am not attempting to make light of a situation that can truly be horrifically devastating. Hurricanes and all weather warnings should always be taken very seriously. That means that beach selfies mid-storm are not a good idea, okay? Stay inside and make good choices. Sometimes the news has to scare us to death because it really is better safe than sorry. Prayers for everyone affected by this hurricane and all others. These things aren't a joke, but there's always a silly bright side to everything, and I wanted to add a little levity to a pretty dark situation.

I am literally writing this using my cell phone as a wifi hotspot and praying the power stays on. I have one too, so I get it. People said some things, Corey, and they made you cry, which is awful. Get out of bed. Let me just stop to take a second and validate that.

However, Corey Feldman, we need to talk. Just you and me. This is going to go sort of Intervention style, and I might say some things that are tough to hear, but you need to listen to me.

I could tell you were trying. I could see you remembering your choreography. Not even a little bit, so I know this was tough. This is where you went wrong. I could see how much passion you put into that performance, but it still went terribly wrong in the eyes of the public. You need to be yourself. Not yourself in and for that matter not anyone else from the late 80s either. That was a long damn time ago. We have moved on. We will love you for you. The last thing anyone on the planet should ever try to do is be Michael Jackson.

There was only one Michael Jackson, and the thing is, his window of actual coolness was very tiny and closed very quickly before he turned into a total wack job freak show. You do not want to be associated with that level of trainwreck. He might have been a nice person to you, but he was the very essence of dysfunction and disaster and he looked ridiculous and was such a mess that he died from being a mess, and I tend to believe the stories that he was a pedophile, which I feel is so tragic.

Michael Jackson as an aesthetic, not as an actual human being, is cheesy and lame. He just legit sings like him, except arguably better, and The Weekend is cool as shit. Because he is original. There is no one else like him. You have talent too. Also, you seem like the nicest person ever. I want you to stop with the dark evil look and be nice and inspiring.

You got that in you, man. Do I have to get Tony Robbins on you? But all the other stuff distracted me from it. Can we talk about those angels?

I hate those angels. How can I take this even a little seriously as art? Neither can anyone else. Stop making those girls dress like that. Objectifying women into a pitiful cliché will never make you edgy. Just let them wear normal clothes. I feel like just getting rid of the angel costumes would change a lot.

No more cheeseball BS. You are better than that, Corey. I really want to send you to Stacey London for a makeover because I firmly believe that you could be transformed into a much classier, hipper version of hotness that would surprise a lot of people.

I think with the right stylist you could be in that People issue about sexy men. Maybe you too made some bad choices. But I am sick of listening to people make fun of you for it, and I want you to listen to me. I will not lead you wrong. We can show all of those haters. You are a brilliant actor. I am offering up one of my deepest darkest secrets as proof. I even liked Blown Away. You are so good that you made Blown Away entertaining. It was a guilty pleasure.

I had it on VHS tape. I really liked Dream a Little Dream too. I thought it was great. At least in I did. I might think otherwise today, but back then I loved it and I wanted to be Meredith Salenger bad. Which means that you could be great again. Do you have a clue how awesome you would be in a movie that was actually well-written and well-directed? You would kill it in something Pulp-Fiction-esque. You need a genius director to take that chance on you like Tarantino did for Travolta.

I could see you going full on Coen Brothers. You need Paul Thomas Anderson. You need roles like Joaquin Phoenix gets. You can be that good. You need an Oscar, Corey. Movies that are real art. Shy away from comedy and action, at least for now, because they can slide over into the lame-o category too easily.

I promise you, if I can ever get my shit together enough to write a screenplay, I will write you a part. No one else is like you. We want the real you. You look fine the way you are.

Start acting in quality stuff again. An amazing TV series they need to find you a part on Westworld , great movies, fabulous writers and brilliant directors. You are hereby banned from doing anything cheesy even if you need to pay the bills. Work at Whole Foods before you take on a bad role in something awful. I have faith in you.

Lots of us do. We have your back, but you have to listen to me. We are praying for your comeback. Pick yourself up and prove them all wrong. Like actually prove them wrong, by not doing anything cheesy ever again. Let me first begin, as always, by telling you that this is not a sponsored post. Costco did not, and would never, ask me to review anything for them, much less a dollar ninety-nine slice of pizza and some free condiments.

I try to avoid going to Costco at all costs. I feel like stuff about Costco should come with trigger warnings, because the place causes me panic attacks.

As I said in my book, my tastes skew towards twee. I just go for the atmosphere. And yes, I realize that list sounds something like a New Age kill kit.

Maybe one of those hooves they drink maté out of. About halfway through getting the things on my New Age kill kit list, I found myself hungry. Now as everyone well knows, Costco is a good place to be hungry and poor. You can make an entire meal of free samples. At one point I was double fisting Larabars and it was everything.

Then I made a fateful mistake. And it looked like actual pineapple juice, and I needed something to wash down the taco samples, and I believed that I was doing this for my health, so I slammed it. And then I almost died. It was possibly the most fish-assed, bitter, vitamin flavored, taste-bud catastrophe I have ever drank.

Which tasted like they were grown in the ass crack of a rotting corpse. The juice was so bad that the man apologized, like he knew how gross it was before I tried it and he let me try it anyway, which is so wrong. So I decided that I immediately needed to stop everything I was doing and use pizza with onions all over it as a palate cleanser.

Plus my kid was complaining that she was going to starve to death in agony even though she had two waffles for breakfast an hour earlier, and then there was my husband who just sincerely enjoys the culinary offerings at Costco, I think. That is a food court.

To eat a salad in a Costco is unpatriotic. Real Americans eat bad pizza and they like it because of guns and Jesus, and everyone knows Jesus loved bulk shopping and terrible food, as proven by the story about the loaves and fishes. Why they need big red umbrellas over tables that are inside, I will never know.

When food is vaguely named, it can literally be anything. Pizza, however, can only be pizza. I just have a somewhat high tolerance for garbage food. My problem is with food guilt. I have a conscience when it comes to food and I suffer from severe low self-esteem when I eat uhealthy food. I go to yoga too much and when confronted with Costco pizza I start thinking things about how I am not honoring the temple of my body.

Because animal rights, and calories from fat. I think the sign said it had calories, which, in my opinion, may as well be 10, calories, so I start to try and reduce the calories. I will not eat the crust. Yeah, I said that.

But it makes me feel a little better about my disgusting lifestyle choices. This is where things get interesting, folks. This is where the Costco dining experience truly goes next level. There is a special machine at the Costco Food Court that dispenses infinite amounts of fresh, diced onions. If the onions were regular as in unmagical they could just leave it open. I also imagine that getting to be the keeper of the onion key is a really high honor for Costco employees.

Like, you have really made it at Costco if you get to be the keeper of the onion key. But God forbid someone would lose it. I cannot stand onions, especially raw chunky ones.

When confronted with raw chunky onions I turn into a four year old. Yet, knowing that I despise onions, I still decided to try some on the cheese layer that I peeled off my pizza crust for health reasons.

It was all because of the padlock. I needed to know why these onions were so special. The onions were not special. And they ruined my cheese.

So I immediately scraped them all off, except they had already contaminated my cheese layer with their evil onion juice flavor, so all hope was essentially lost. I was there for about three more hours. I got hungry again, but I decided to eat at home this time. A Brutally Honest Product Review. Buy online at these links. Living in a little house, though, means not accumulating a lot of clutter, and accumulating a lot of clutter is basically the entire definition of having a child.

When I saw her crib in pieces on the bulk trash pile, I wanted to throw myself, keening and wailing, on top of its remains like a grieving widow on a coffin in a southern gothic novel we had to throw it away instead of donating, because it was cracked and unsafe. Denial — There is no way that I could possibly be the mother of a six year old.

This child is still a baby. I swear, I just had her, like, yesterday. No way is she forty-three inches tall. Like five more years. Anger — This is insane! How do we have so much crap in this house?

Our extended family is messing up my house because they are too generous and well-meaning! So help me I am cussing out the next parent who gives my kid a goody bag at a birthday party.

None of this garbage brings me joy! Bring me a trash bag immediately because I am throwing everything away and we are going to live in a spare, modern house with a single sea shell as decoration.

If I see another stuffed animal I am going to tear its head off and rip out its heart of batting with my bare hands. Someone please make me a margarita. In this stage, I can also be found anthropomorphizing all the stuffed animals, which I blame squarely on The Velveteen Rabbit. That book caused me lasting psychological damage and if I ever become a stuffed animal hoarder you will know why. Acceptance — Finally usually when I can see the floor and the shelves of the closet again I find my inner peace.

I know I am doing the right thing by donating so many wonderful and useful items to families in need. My house will be clean and relatively clutter free at least until the next birthday. I am fine with the fact that my daughter is growing up and is no longer interested in Daniel Tiger even though I still am and everything is going to be okay, even though my six year old just asked me for a cell phone and sounded exactly like a teenager.

Fellow parents, we can do this. We are not alone in the agony this causes, nor in the relief we feel when we are finally rid of the sixty-thousand Beanie Babies that clogged our closets. All we have to do is move through each stage at our own pace, taking time to stay present with the puzzles missing pieces, and the old bottle sterilizer that is still in the box. We can rid ourselves of breast pumps, newborn dresses, and the teddy bear we got at our baby showers, if we remember that we are strong, we have support, and if all else fails imagine the inner peace we will feel at not having to listen to any of those horrible beeping, singing, chiming, electronic baby toys ever again.

Order it online at any of these links. Back to School in the 70s Vs. Stop being an A Hole on the Internet. Can someone tell me why the beef looks iridescent, though? Everything about Pretty in Pink was perfect until the end when Andi wore a prom dress that looked like something my grandma would wear to a wedding.

Had to keep stopping the tape, then rewinding it, and then the worst happened. I accidentally tore my Outback Red Henley trying to cut the shoulder pads out!! I used up a whole bottle of Paul Mitchell spritz and my bangs are still flat and now I smell like a gigantic grape lollipop wearing high top, pink reeboks and clear braces.

I think I need more mousse. My dad bought me a neon flamingo for my bedroom because he made a bunch of money on junk bonds and feels guilty for not spending any time with me. Garrett and they have her weird sister instead. What are they doing to do when they graduate college?? Today I wore three Izod polos under a Benetton rugby shirt and I flipped up all four collars at once. I also wore three Swatches and nineteen friendship bracelets, and my socks were so big you could barely see my Keds, and for once I got the rolled up cuffs just right on my pegged jeans.

I felt so good about myself. My dad got a beeper. It was really aggravating. It made me really want a wine cooler. He told me Sheena really likes Def Leppard, but I was not impressed. Do Oriental ramen noodles count as meat? What is Oriental made out of anyway? I am so sad. I lost my favorite charm on my charm necklace. It was the frying pan with sunny-side up eggs in it.

My gigantic, black lace bow keeps flopping into my eyes and getting in my electric blue mascara. I recorded "Take On Me" onto a blank tape off the radio with my boom box and I got the whole thing! I didn't cut off the first part or anything! The entire cast of Stand by Me. The greatest movie ever made in the history of film.

I am out of Bonne Belle Heaven Scent. I think I want to try a more sophisticated, adult perfume now. Like Giorgio, Obsession, Lauren, or Poison. I am obsessed with Poison. The perfume, not the band. Glam rock is gross because I am New Wave. I really think we need to free Nelson Mandela and tear down the Berlin Wall. I feel really strongly about this. I cry when I hear 99 Luftballons. Begging my mom to get me a high-collared, full length, lace Jessica McClintock dress for homecoming and I am going to wear it with Capezios.

Oh my God I am so excited. I want my life to be exactly like a John Hughes movie combined with a Cameron Crowe movie. Dating in the 90s Vs. I sat down and had a cigarette. I really wanted to watch my programs but I didn't want to have to get up and change the channel or mess with the antenna to get it to come in clear, so I let the girls continue until I was done my cigarette.

I made sure to tell them not to drink any Pepsi for a couple hours so the Pop Rocks wouldn't explode in their stomachs. That happened to some kid on TV, you know. Then I went into the kitchen and poured them all bowls of Apple Jacks while I had my coffee with sweet n low and another cigarette.

Halfway through my smoke, I went and got the baby, changed its Pamper and made it a bottle of formula. Then I put it in the walker so I could vacuum in peace while the other three kids went outside. About an hour later Matt came back crying that Mrs. Johnson had spanked him because he was throwing rocks at cars.

If I hear of you doing that again I'm going to bust your ass too, so you got lucky this time that you only got one whipping. Little while later, here come the girls saying they're hot because it's 80 degrees and sunny. I gave them some more red Kool-Aid and told them if they were hot to stay in the shade and stop whining about it. That gave me the idea to lay out, so I covered myself in baby oil and positioned my plastic chaise lounge right in direct sunlight.

I put the baby in the playpen with some blocks while I cracked open a Tab and listened to some Neil Sedaka and Captain and Tenille on my portable radio. Don't worry, I put a bonnet on the baby since she doesn't have hair yet. Matt had been down at the lake fishing with all the other four year olds and he came back yelling that he had a fishhook caught in his lip so I had to get the pliers and cut it out for him. I gave him some ice, told him to stop crying and sent him back to the lake to fish some more.

Around noon the kids all came back from wherever they were and I made them fried baloney sandwiches on Wonder Bread with some tasty-kakes for dessert. After that we had to go grocery shopping so I put the three older ones in the back of the station wagon and set the baby on the front seat and off we went.

I decided I needed another cigarette when we were in the car, so I lit one up and I've discovered that if you only crack the window instead of rolling it down that the smoke ventilates much better, so I have no idea why the kids were coughing and fussing for me to roll the window all the way down.

They were just being dramatic, I swear. Naturally I didn't listen to them. Bill's going to be so mad at me. Prices are so high these days. I bet Gerald Ford has something to do with this. I sent the kids back outside again. This time I made the girls take the baby with them, which was fine because they were just going into the woods to play. Gave me some time to watch The Edge of Night in peace. I'm planning a big night out with Bill this weekend for our anniversary.

I thought maybe we'd go have fondue, drink some Harvey Wallbangers and go to a disco. I called the eleven year old down the street and told her we'd pay her three whole dollars to babysit all night and not to worry if the baby woke up and cried.

I told her if you ignore it, the baby will eventually stop crying and go back to sleep, so just turn the record player up louder or something and that if the other three want to stay up late and watch television, it's okay but make them go to bed after Carol Burnett goes off and if they want some Jiffy Pop, that's fine too.

They know how to make it themselves. Hilda called while I was making dinner cube steaks and crinkle fries and we got to talking about playing cards and then she said she liked Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore better than The Godfather II and I had to agree with her. I told her they ought to make a TV show after Alice. She said it would never work.

I told her I had to get off the phone because I needed to mix up my Brandy Alexander and the phone cord didn't reach all the way to the liquor cabinet. Fed the kids and Bill dinner. Then Bill went off to Bob's for poker night and the girls all came over here to play Gin Rummy with me. We had some Chex Mix and Linda brought over her famous pineapple upside down cake, which we had with Sanka. We all talked about what we were going to do for the bicentennial and then Debbie started going on and on about how she likes this Jimmy Carter guy from Georgia for President and she and Doris got into an argument because Doris is a Republican.

The kids tried to peek out of their rooms, where I'd put them for the evening, but I yelled at them and told them it was grown-up time and to keep playing Candyland and Lincoln Logs until they fell asleep. I asked Debbie what color she thought I ought to redo the kitchen in - harvest gold or avocado green and she said she thought rust or Colonial blue would be even prettier. After the girls left I had to clean up the kitchen.

Thank God for Corelle ware because I keep dropping coffee cups in the sink. This stuff just will not break, I tell you! I mixed up another pitcher of Tang for breakfast, went and filed my nails into long, pointy ovals and then painted them a new shade called "Shimmering Ecru. Then I added a spritz of Charlie.

I feel like celebrating our anniversary a little early! I have an IUD now after all. I'm not really worried about hemorrhaging or getting an infection from it. It's just a bunch of hype like that whole thalidomide scare. I knew lots of women ten years ago who took that and only one of their kids was born with a weird hand. She's not very crippled from it though.

The kids in school tease her but middle schoolers are like that and it will build character. Anyway, I think I'll have a cigarette and read some of Waiting for Mr. Maybe I'll put on a Streisand record until Bill gets home. The great physicists may have discovered gravity, the theory of relativity and that whole thing about an object in motion, but they've left out one of the most reliable laws of the universe.

If you go out looking like shit you will see someone you know. And the degree to which you look like shit will determine how much you don't want to see the person you're about to run into.

For example, if you run into Walgreens with your greasy hair wound up in a pony tail holder, messy bun catastrophe and an underground zit on your nose that you've been trying in vain to pop all day until you look like you're about to guide a sleigh through fog on Christmas Eve, you WILL see your ex-boyfriend and his gorgeous, skinny, and probably Brazilian new wife and you WILL be holding a box of super-absorbency tampons.

I hate seeing people I know in public. Even if I adore you, I will still be uncomfortable seeing you in the grocery store. I can't tell you how many times I have avoided people that I genuinely like because I don't want to make small talk on a street corner. There are two reasons for this. One is that I don't like being caught off guard and two is that I am so socially inept that I need a lot of mental preparation before conversing or I will probably say or do something awkward and inappropriate.

And I guess three is that I probably look like shit. Case in point, last week I got bored and went to the mall for God knows what reason, and I kid you not, I must have seen pretty much everyone that I know there. You cannot imagine how bad I looked. No makeup, dirty hair, muffin top jeans, crappy tee shirt. I looked like I should have been working on a car engine, but no, there I was, shopping. Naturally, everyone that I saw looked fabulous and had combed their hair before they left the house.

I bet everyone who saw me thought the same thing: Maybe she'll get some new clothes and while she's at it, how about a stop at the MAC counter for a makeover. She ran into the guy she lost her virginity to, who is now grown up, hot and successful, at a restaurant. She was two months post-partum, and well, that's about all I need to say. She was nursing in public, then the baby began to scream and I mean SCREAM, because it knew of course that her ex had just walked in, because babies are evil like that.

Then the baby shit and spit up and at that time the ex decided to come over and talk to my poor sister, whose boob was practically lying in her pasta bowl and of course she hadn't lost the baby weight or had time to touch up her roots and forget trying to put makeup on. There was nothing nice about this situation and what made it worse was that the ex was there with his new wife who was stunning and 85 pounds and had a mane of hair that looked like something out of a Pantene commercial and you could just hear her thinking "Wow, he took HER virginity?

He must have felt sorry for her. All I wanted was a god damned burrito, but right when I walked in the door who do I see but the Toe Sucker. The Toe Sucker was this guy I briefly dated forever ago, but whom I can never forget, for obvious reasons. I didn't have sex with him, but we did hook up, as they say, a few times and although he was kind of nice, we just weren't a good match I don't like to suck toes.

But there he was hovering open mouthed over a steak burrito as if it were a freshly pedicured foot and he too was there with his new lover, who was definitely prettier than me aren't they always? People probably think I'm unfriendly. I just can't handle chatting in Publix with people who've seen me naked and there's nothing worse than standing there with the new wife glaring at you when you can't get stop thinking "I fucked your husband.

Not that this has happened to me. I can just imagine it. I was even a little unnerved at seeing my doctor in yoga class, although it was somewhat of a comfort in case I happened to drop dead, which is a likely scenario and it was also a little comforting knowing that your doctor can bust out a bad ass hand stand.

This man has held my uterus. He's had more of his hand up my vagina than my husband. I don't want him judging my downward facing dog, ya know? Once I ran into a guy who had truly, deeply done me wrong. He led me on with lies, promised to call, never did, gave me the run around after seducing me when I was really innocent.

He knew that I had been badly hurt by other men and willfully chose to add himself to the already long list of shitty guys in my life. Hell holds a special place for men who treat girls like this. One day I would like to be the dungeon master in charge of this circle of the Inferno. Anyway, when I encountered him again a few years later, it was at the country club where I worked and he was on his way to his rehearsal dinner and wedding I still cannot believe someone married him , because this is my life and this is the kind of crap that happens to me.

So alarmed was I about seeing this fool, that I took my lunch break and went and bought a new shirt. I don't even think he recognized me when he saw me but at least he wasn't all like, oh look I'm getting married and there goes some girl in a shirt she spilled coffee all over this morning.

And if you happen to run into an ex in, say, I don't know, Target, when you look like total hell, you can swiftly hide in the makeup department and try on a few samples to spiff yourself up. I'm not, of course, saying that this has actually happened to me, again. I'm just saying that maybe if it did happen, maybe you could do that. Even though they kind of discourage you from opening up the makeup in the Target cosmetics department.

I like to think they'd understand because haven't we all been there? So if you see me out and I flee, please know it's not because I don't like you, but probably because I like you a lot, or I once liked you very much or maybe even once I loved you. It is because I want you to like me and if you saw me or talked to me, maybe deep down I fear you wouldn't. Preorder it now at any of the links below.

Last Christmas my second younger sister got me a gift card to Red Lobster, and it has been burning a hole in my pocket ever since. It makes no sense. You know what else makes no sense? You will never hear it on the radio because it is just God awful terrible. She says she does this because she slays. Then she says that if he hits it right he can ride in her helicopter. Red Lobsters do not have helipads on their roofs, which proves how clueless she is.

Here is the part where I need to grab Beyoncé by the arm and drag her off to the side and give her a good talking to. First off, Beyoncé, you do not eat at Red Lobster. I cannot imagine any situation where you have or would ever set foot in a Red Lobster. So I am calling serious bullshit on you. This is Gwyneth Paltrow levels of bullshit right here. No one believes that you eat at Red Lobster just like no one believes that Gwyneth Paltrow eats pasta carbonara.

You have ALL the privilege, which means that you have an entire staff dedicated to assisting you with eating. You literally pay people to help you eat — nutritionists, dieticians, chefs, servers, personal assistants etc. Did you hear me? That means NO animal products. Second, Beyoncé, we need to talk about rewarding men for good sex. This makes you look needy. Men do not like needy women. It ruins everything I want to believe about you.

Women like me text back immediately, which is pathetic. Women like you wait three or four days and forget you even got a text meanwhile the guy is halfway suicidal with longing. Rewarding a man for good sex by taking him out to dinner sounds like the worst idea of all time. I think Beyoncé is trying to subvert longstanding and outdated gender roles.

I think she is trying to take upon herself the dominant role in the relationship and claim that this is a bold, badass feminist move and that she is trying to exert some kind of control here.

This sounds good on paper, but in real life this shit is never ever ever going to fly and is a bad idea for about 25 good reasons. I can hear Jay-Z snickering about it right now, in fact. You want to know what would happen if you were not Beyoncé and tried to pull this shit in real life?

I will tell you. My take on this, based on a lot of actual life experience, is that some gender roles can successfully be reversed, but this is not one of them. When it comes to dating I prefer to remain in the Mad Men era. In my mind, I am such a prize that the reward for hitting it good is that he got to hit it with me at all. The act itself is its own reward. And trust me, I am no Beyoncé over here. But I was still curious about this whole Red Lobster phenomenon.

It was such a big deal that humble Red Lobster was even trending on Twitter, God help us. Because, I gotta be honest with you, I have never once, ever, ever come even remotely close to crying out in the throes of passion:. Thing is, I live in Florida on the beach and there is no dearth of really good places to get fresh, local seafood. I think it's here for old people and tourists who need something familiar and not local and scary. It has been here in the exact same place for my entire life. Such is the case with all Red Lobsters, am I right?

Red Lobster has staying power. Red Lobster can last a long time, apparently, heh heh. We met in the parking lot, which was inexplicably full at 1: It was spotlessly clean, smelled a little weird not bad, just weird and had wall to wall carpeting and a whole lot of paneling.

I need to know something, though. Does anyone, HAS anyone ever in the history of Red Lobster, ever ordered one of the actual red lobsters from the tank up by the hostess stand? Or are those just token decorative lobsters that live out their lives as claw-bound props? I have bad lobster karma already, but that is a story for another day. Such is my luck, and I remain fest-deprived. How can that even be?

So we forged onward. To a vinyl booth by a window where we were immediately given a basket of Cheddar Bay Biscuits, leading us to wonder where on a map we might locate the actual Cheddar Bay. My friend suggested that it was probably slightly north of Old Bay. Everything about these biscuits is so very right and so very wrong at once. Beyoncé would never eat them.

They are nothing but gluten and casein bound in the holy union of butter, which is probably actually margarine and garlic powder. These biscuits are so legendary that I know someone who named her cat after them. I liked the biscuits a lot, but I am not exactly hard to please when it comes to biscuits. Most biscuits are pretty wonderful. But were they wonderful enough to qualify as a reward for the best sex of all time? The sweet chili shrimp, however, was not disgusting. I kinda liked it.

Nor was the coleslaw. My friend and I share a common fondness for coleslaw, of all things. Growing up my mom made coleslaw for every meal. She had several versions of it, and I liked them all.

Coleslaw is just a part of my life see my Chick-fil-a rant and I have zero tolerance for crappy coleslaw. Red Lobster makes good coleslaw.

I give credit where credit is due. It had no onions, nice crunch and celery seeds. Still, the coleslaw was not good enough to serve as the celebration for receiving multiple orgasms. So I ate grease and breading for lunch dipped in bland cocktail sauce with a squeeze of lemon. I think I would eat gravel if it was breaded and fried and served with cocktail sauce.

My friend had to outdo me and order The Ultimate Feast, because I think he may be an overachiever. Like there are fish, but also dolphins, sea turtles, squids, shellfish, octopi, and everything else just flopping all over the place?

That is essentially what the Ultimate Feast is. Just empty the whole net over a plate and soak it all in butter and serve. Red Lobster should probably be called Yellow Butter because that is a more fitting description of the place.

There was probably even some coral on there. My meal was the epitome of fried. I think they breaded and fried the plate and utensils.

Somehow, I was just fine, and I will blame my dedication to portion control on my lack of gastrointestinal distress. I do hope he was okay. The verdict is that Red Lobster was massively underwhelming.

It is by no means terrible. I was actually pleasantly surprised. Okay, I kind of even liked it, especially the coleslaw, but I am just too cool to want to admit that publically. If I die and go to heaven, I will get to eat those biscuits every day without ever gaining weight or getting stomach cramps and that will be paradise.

Red Lobster overall, though, is kind of bland. My visit to Red Lobster categorically failed to establish any logical link between its meals and sex, so the mystery remains along with the mystery of who Walt is except that he is someone who loves fried shrimp.

Was it good enough to take a man there after sex? Not even if he did that thing with his hands and his mouth at the same time. Even if he was the greatest dirty talker in the history of dirty talking. Even if he had a you-know-what the size of a Chipotle burrito AND knew how to use it.

Am I simply just picky and snobbish? Will I go back? Not unless my grandmother wants me to take her, in which case then of course, but I think she likes Olive Garden better.

I'm feeling a little down today. I know what would fix this. I need to go to HomeGoods immediately. Would people think I was weird if I took a selfie in front of this sign and made it my profile pic on Facebook? Is that going too far? My uncontrollable desire to completely redecorate every room of my home for every single season and holiday even the ones they don't close school for is officially validated.

I have found my people. This is my tribe. I'm totally doing a leaf-themed tablescape for Arbor Day. Life would be better if I bought six, jewel-toned Moroccan lanterns and hung them unevenly in the corner of my living room.

I need a 6 foot tall metal chicken. Wait, is that Jenny Lawson's chicken? Where would someone put this? Where would I put this? My house is too small. I need to set my sights higher in life. I need to make enough money to be able to accommodate a 6 foot tall metal chicken. Obviously I am a loser. What kind of accent do I want my home to have?

I want my home to have an accent like people in old movies. I want my house to sound like Katherine Hepburn. The caroteniods and flavonids are useful in protecting the body from oxidative stress and health problems related to oxidative stress. A few examples of these health problems are cataracts, atherosclerosis, and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.

One way to keep in good health? There have even been studies describing kale as having the ability to lower the risk for five different types of cancer such as bladder, breast, colon, ovary, and prostate cancers. What makes kale such a health powerhouse in the realm of anti-cancer benefits is the accumulation of glucosinolates, an organic compound which are broken down into smaller compounds called isothiocyanates. This score shows the nutrient density of food on a scale from 1 to based on its content of micronutrients, vitamins, minerals, phytochemcials, and antioxidant capacities.

A cup of boiled kale has a score of ! Although raw kale has many health benefits, cooking or steaming kale can give it an extra boost. Take a look at all the nutrients found in a cup of cooked kale below. Top 10 nutrients from 1 cup of cooked kale g:. Vitamin K is part of photosynthesis so all green vegetables contain varying levels; yet, kale is at the top of the chart for the highest concentration.

This vitamin is best known for the ability to help blood clots but also has noteworthy status for proper functioning of bone-dependent proteins. Spinach belongs to the Amaranthaceae family, known sometimes as the Goosefoot family. Chard, beetroots, and would you have guessed, quinoa, are all cousins of spinach in this family. Like kale, spinach has many anti-cancer carotenoids.

These careniods are called epoxyxanthophylls and are plentiful in spinach. Epoxyxanthophylls have been found to provide significant protection against the occurrence of aggressive prostate cancer. Even when unrelated to cancer, excessive inflammation has been shown to decrease thanks to the epoxyxanthophylls in spinach.

Moreover, spinach has plenty of other carotenoids including beta-carotene, lutein, and zeaxanthin as well as some flavonoids but not quite as many as in kale. The carotenoids in spinach help against inflammatory problems, oxidative stress-related problems, cardiovascular problems, bone problems, and cancers in a way similar to the benefits of kale.

In addition, spinach is an excellent source of glycoglycerolipids. These fat-related molecules found in plants help protect the lining of the digestive tract from damage, especially damage related to unwanted inflammation. Top 10 nutrients from 1 cup of cooked spinach g:. Additionally, spinach is an excellent source of vitamin E and has a little more manganese than kale which further aids in the reduction of the risk of health problems related to oxidative stress. Even though the two dark leafy greens share many similar health benefits, spinach and kale can each make a claim for fame with their stellar levels of vitamin A and K, respectively.

Not to mention, spinach and kale are also great plant sources of omega-3s! Since both are so nutritious for every day diet, let your taste buds decide which to serve for dinner! We are told we need to drink milk to be healthy. But, do we really?

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