Don’t Preach to Me!

If ya don't know it, don't quote it.

Most of the world’s religions essentially have the same tenets.  Don’t go killing people, don’t steal, don’t be a skank.  Basically, be a good human and a good member of society.

I’ve read texts of a fair number of the major religions, both for classes and for personal knowledge on the history of religion and particulars on quite a few, including the more ancient religions and mythologies.  I have my own personal viewpoints that took me quite a few years to develop and have cycled like a sine wave that dropped acid.  I know what I believe and don’t want anyone telling me what to think.

Thing is, I learned a long time ago that all those little black marks on that thin white stuff were words. When groups of those were put together they expressed ideas or told stories.  When I was five I learned what the little black marks told me.  Thus, when I want information I find large quantities of those little black marks and read them…without even moving my lips.

I strongly believe in an individual’s right to practice whatever religious beliefs work for that individual…as long as that practice has no impact on other individuals.  That is, if practicing your religion interferes with anyone else’s right to do as they please then ya gots to stop.  Period.  The separation of Church and State that James Madison was so adamant about is an ideal I support with every ounce of my being.  Government should be completely apart from religion…no state religion, no support of any religion and no telling anyone what they can or can not believe.

Obviously, individuals are free to do whatever they choose as long as it does not impede other individuals from doing as they please.  So, in a legal and constitutional sense I believe people are free to preach, proselytize and stand on soap boxes everywhere.

BUT.

Don’t come to my house.  Don’t harass me on the street.  Don’t tell me I’m not living life as God wants me to when you don’t know a damn thing about me.

A few specific memories include:

• While preparing Thanksgiving dinner with my sister Suzette and my roommates—Jehovah’s Witnesses knocking on the door—twice—who goes out and interrupts people’s Thanksgiving dinner??
• Working in a place that required us to work on Sundays—being at work—being asked why I was working and not in church—um, because your judgmental ass is in this chair wanting to eat, that’s why I’m at work.
• Being dressed for Halloween and being called a heathen.
• Being told that failure to follow the true path would result in my eternal damnation.
• Reading the Bible as a child and finding a contradiction, asking a question about it and being told “Good Christians” didn’t question the Bible. (Ya coulda just said, “different books of the Bible=different authors.”)

I happen to be a pretty good human.  I volunteer. I’ve rescued animals.  I’ve helped others.  I’ve given money when I have virtually none.  I have made a HUGE number of mistakes in my life.  I have been selfish.  I have been skanky.  I have imbibed in inebriating substances.  I try to not be selfish now.  I’m not skanky.  I still like my wine, you try to take that away and you’ll probably lose the fingers you’re grabbing my glass with…but I usually only have one glass now.  I am pierced and tattooed.  I swear sometimes. I’m not perfect.

However, I don’t need to be told that ABC religion/cult/sect is my way to salvation.  To me the purposes of religion…guidance in an open and embracing way…lack of judgmentalism…ideas and people that show love and charity to others…a positive social and moral influence…leading by example.

An ideal truly worth following does not need marketing.

Bad Medical Advice

Microscopes are Better than Snake Oil

Little Miss Snarky is going to be a bit serious today.

I love the interwebby.  Sharing knowledge and making information accessible to the masses is a fabulous thing.  Doing the kind of research that the not-so-young among us remember doing by:

• Driving to the library
• Going to the card catalog
• Writing down multiple Dewey decimal codes
• Walking through the stacks
• Finding multiple texts (or not finding them)
• Looking through multiple texts.
• Taking notes (by hand)

Can now be done from the comfort of your couch, with your feet up, coffee at hand, in your pygiamees and fuzzy slippers.  So how could this possibly be a bad thing in any way?

In most cases, it’s a great thing.  The problem is that a large number of readers and internet wanderers do not have the skill to tell whether a site is actually offering valid, peer-reviewed journal type of medical advice or I-am-trying-to-be-an-internet-guru-affiliate-marketing-master-and-Idon’t-care-what-kind-of-crap-I-sell-or-who-dies-as-a-result.  Between all the bad internet guru advice, all the questionable motivation and slick marketing, all the revenue sharing sites that try to give credibility to writers who have NO business giving medical advice there is a boatload of information circulating that would have never made it to print back in “The Good Old Days.”

As a scribing type of chica, I am a big fan of an avenue that allows people to express themselves…writing, images, videos, what have you.  But I draw the line at information that puts the health and lives of readers at risk.  This is just irresponsible, selfish, Dante had a special level reserved for you that was so deep and dark and vile with devices of torture so evil that Vlad the Impaler looked like a PETA member in comparison.

Why so adamant?  Because the majority of these people are doing this for profit.  There are the few that honestly believe that drizzling some flax seed oil on your food will cure cancer, but they also wear tinfoil hats.  Almost all of these people are willing to put the health of others at risk to make a few dollars, whether they are the purveyors of questionable products or the writers and web developers paid to put this stuff out there.

I know this because I have seen the job postings for these gigs.  These people have no morals.  If you want to play on peoples’ vanity and sell them an overpriced multivitamin telling them it will improve their skin, fine.  It probably will help a little.  But when you market a product that is inert, ineffective or untested and people are using that instead of proven treatments then you are a bad human.

Alternative medicine is not my target here.  I happen to be a fan and have used acupuncture, herbal remedies and yoga in addition to meditation.  I heartily believe in what certain vitamins and minerals can do, but I have an advantage in distinguishing the wheat from the chafe because I have a decent background in science.  Hell, aspirin isn’t anything more than a component of willow bark.

Basically: If you can’t prove it works, don’t sell it or I will send Karma to get some foot exercise on your booty.

Want to Travel to Italy?

Please don’t be the ugly American when you do.  Traveling in Italy is great…I did it four times before I moved here and recommend it to just about anyone.

BUT, I hate the stereotyping I get as a result of other people’s uncivilized behavior.

While I am not likely to turn down adult beverages when they are offered to me, I don’t usually get drunk anymore…it still happens…but it’s rare.  But, Florence is a city filled with American students.  American students who can drink legally here because the drinking age is 16.  Italians don’t understand the desire to constantly get completely wasted because it’s not part of their culture.  There is no fascination with drinking because you grow up drinking slightly diluted wine as a kid.

The problem, people think any American that looks like they haven’t started collecting Social Security is constantly searching to get drunk.

And get laid.

I happen to not be searching for either and am sick of the assumptions.

Don’t come here and scream about people not speaking English.  Yes, someone working in a hotel in the center of the city should speak English because it is the lingua franca.  Not true in a restaurant outside of the city wall.  And if you are rude it’s amazing how fast people who actually speak fluent English suddenly forget.

Don’t spend a single day in each city.  It is amazing how many people come here and try to see a whole country in a week.  People actually forget what city they are in and have to ask.  You can’t see a city in a day.  You can get some great photos, sure, but will you even remember the city?  And no, you can not see the ocean from Florence.

Don’t ask why places don’t serve Italian food.  There is no “Italian” food.  Italy’s food is regional and varies completely from region to region.  You can’t get chicken parmesan when you are far away from…Parma. Pizza is available everywhere and in two different styles. Roman and Neapolitan.  Please do not tell Italians they don’t know how to make pizza.

Don’t get mad when people get in your photos.  They are walking their everyday walk and it just happens that they pass in front of the Duomo, Baptistry, Ponte Vecchio etc.  If they stopped every single time someone pulled out a camera they would be frozen in place.

Come here, be polite, have a fabulous time and see one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

The Lesson: being a good tourist means being a good human.

Bars: Nemesis or Godsend?

Cubs on a Night Out

Like most people who have managed to reach a certain age I have spent my share of time in bars and done my share of consuming adult beverages.

Ok, perhaps more than my share.

Okkkkkkkkk, my share plus three other people’s shares.

But I finally grew up and don’t drink as much any more. (Most of the time.)  I spent many nights with eyes at half mast and many mornings with headaches that felt like a crew of woodpeckers treating the inside of my cranium like a buffet.  My liver has been very angry with me on any given Sunday (M,T,W,T,F or S) in the past.

So here’s the negatives about bars:

• You can’t hear yourself speak.
• You can’t always find a seat.
• I make better drinks than a lot of bartenders. (I did it for a living before)
• You can’t hear hot guys speak…sometimes that should be in the plus category.
• Guys think you are there to hook up with them.
• You can only hear drunk sorority chicks scream, “OH MY GOD” so many times before wanting to take the toothpicks from your martinis and stab one into each of their eyeballs.
• The line for the Ladies’ Room is always too long.
• You wallet becomes very empty, very fast unless you are great friends with the bartender.

Here are some cool things about bars:

• They have booze…in a much better variety than you have at home.
• You don’t have to clean up.
• If you don’t like one bar you can go to another…not like your house.
• You can flirt with a bartender.
• You can meet new and interesting people.
• If you meet new and uninteresting people you can tell them to go away.
• You can be a Cougar.
• You can behave or misbehave.
• Unless you are an idiot you can get a really nice buzz without getting any grief.

Verdict: Bars are FUN!!  They are gathering places in which you can take the edge off a difficult day at the office.  They are places which allow you to broaden your social circle.  They are places where you can meet Mr/s. Right or Mr/s. RightforTonight.

Should you be in one every night, probably not…but it can be fun for a while.

So I’m Skinny, Shut Up About it!

At 5′ 10.5″ and 134# (179cm and 61 kg) I am too skinny.  I have had a stressful year and I do not have a huge appetite when I am stressed.

People would generally think that I would be aware of the fact that I am thin and not feel the need to offer unsolicited input on my food consumption levels or ponder if I have an eating disorder…come on, I’m not THAT skinny.

But not here.

My weight is completely open for discussion.  The fact that my ass and boobs are not their typical glorious dimensions has brought commentary along the lines of, “where did your ass go?” “here, eat some cookies so your boobs come back” bla bla bla.

I do eat.  I eat more than most normal people.  I eat five to six small meals in a typical day.  But I tend to be thin anyway and I walk eeeeeeeeeeeeeverywhere.  (Anyone who has tried to drive in Florence understands why.)  So getting back to my pre-stress, pre-bronchitis weight will take a while.

In fact, I can pack it away like an Olympic eater when I want.  I have been known to consume a 1kg bistecca all by my lonesome on a number of occasions. (2.2 lbs)  I can eat whole bags of potato chips in one sitting.  Ice cream in front of the TV? Just call me Hoover.  Try to take some of my pizza? You will lose fingers if you even think about it.

I have this funny habit…I eat when I am hungry…I know this comes across as strange to many…as if I were some kind of feral animal that actually pays attention to those gnawing pangs of hunger and sensations of satiation, but it works.  It has kept me within 5 lbs of what I weighed since I graduated from high school in XXXX.

So.

Unless you want to adopt me and be my new mommy or you want to spring for a steak dinner STFU.

Pathetic Parenting

To start with:  I don’t hate kids.  I actually love kids and want to spawn.  I have seven nieces and nephews who actually can behave and know how to be polite.  (Yeah, seven…no shortage of fertility in the clan.)

What I do hate is the shitty parenting that results in kids that behave like the spawn of Satan any time they are let off a leash.

So in this non-mother’s opinion, what makes for good parenting and what makes for bad parenting?  Most of these ya would think would be obvious…but apparently not.

Signs of good parenting:

• Cleanliness—I’m not talking about the, “oops, little Johnny dumped his chocolate ice cream on his shirt” kind of issue.  I mean when you see kids whose clothes look like little Johnny did it six days in a row.
• Politeness—polite parents raise polite kids, waiting their turn to speak and saying “thank you” without being asked.
• Thoughtfulness—letting another child go on a swing first, helping a kid who fell get up.
• Smiles—good parenting yields happy kids, thus smiles.

Signs of bad parenting:

• Foul mouths—not the occasional bad word they heard Mommy or Daddy say…but when a six year old shoots off with “Fuck you” and “bloody whore” (British version of bloody) something is going on at home.
• Bad manners—the kid who constantly interrupts conversations or refuses to behave is most likely seeking attention…if they can’t get positive attention from a bad parent they will settle for negative attention.
• Lack of control—the child who can’t sit at their table or handle the checkout line at the grocery store isn’t just doing that in public…they have a home environment with no limits.
• Violence—acting out violently can be a cry for attention, frustration based on jealousy or imitation of violence they see elsewhere…responsible parenting discusses and curbs any violent behavior.

Things that make me want to slap parents into next Sunday:

• Letting kids run around restaurants, cafes, etc.  How retarded are you as a parent?  Firstly, it is rude to disturb everyone else unless you are at Chuck E. Cheese.  Secondly, it’s the lazy way out of parenting…watching your kids is not the responsibility of any retail establishment.  Finally, it’s dangerous..hot coffee, breakable plates and glassware, displays that can fall…if little Johnny gets hurt, well that’s your fault.
• Thinking anything that their little princess does is just adorable…pulling on the kitty’s tail or the puppy’s ears is mean, not funny.  Drawing on people’s walls or furniture is not artistic expression and your child will not have their self-esteem damaged if they are told not to color on a table.
• Letting kids have their way.  You are the parent.   You make the rules.  You are 40 they are 4.  For the love of future generations…ACT like a parent…no one needs to watch your child pitch a fit to get candy and every time you give in you make it easier for them to do it again.
• Disparaging anyone who does want your child to behave.  The couple that wants to celebrate their anniversary in a restaurant with multiple stars and waiters in suits does not want your brat to interrupt their fish course with his Gameboy.

Kids need boundaries.  Kids need rules. If you don’t set them YOU are a bad parent.  You are dooming your child to future failure in both career and relationships.

Stupid is as Stupid Does

Have you ever wondered how some people have the mental capacity to walk and chew gum at the same time?

I mean, really.  I know that having a high IQ can cause a bit of bias in my perception of the intellectual capacity of others.  As one blogger so snarkily put it, “think about how stupid the average person is, then remember that half of them are more stupid.”

I actually remember the first time that I realized the difference between the way the average person’s thought processes work and the way my thought processes work.  It was the 1992 elections and there was a series of television interviews of the “man on the street” and the level of thought that went into the statements shocked the living bejeezus out of me.  My initial response was, “No, seriously…that dude is out on furlough” then it hit me.

OMG that really is how most people think.

My inner dork (well, outer too for quite a few years) always led me to believe that all people quest for knowledge and self-improvement and further learning.  It was not until that moment that I actually realized that that is not the truth.  A high IQ is most definitely not a thing that gives you unending insight into your fellow humans…quite the opposite sometimes.

But damn, sometimes I truly wonder how people can get through life being so lacking in the mental capacity I can find in a lot of six year olds.  Oddly enough, a number of these mental wonders somehow managed to graduate from real universities.  Wonder of wonders…you have a BA and can’t figure out how to perform the daily duties necessary to survive modern urban life.

This is not rocket science people.

Simple tasks which spell fail for so many include, but are not limited to:

• Parking a vehicle
• Ordering coffee
• Drinking coffee without burning oneself
• Pulling out of poorly filled parking space with the ability to look for oncoming traffic
• Checking first to see if the electronic device is plugged in before having a tirade about it not working
• Getting the concept that if you put it away (rather than placing it on a random flat surface) you can find it again
• They put the dates on foods for a reason
• Toilets flush
• Open doors let cold air in when it is below freezing
• My coat and purse on the chair and my glass of wine in front of them indicate that, yes actually, this spot is taken

Kudos to Darwin award winners who have actually removed themselves from the gene pool with their insistence on performing actions which most people realize are not conducive to the continuation of the ability to live or perform essential neurological functions.

Dating Disasters

Dating is not something I generally enjoy.  Lack of dating interest does not mean that I do not like having relationships.  Relationships I like.  Serious relationships without serious attitude and discussions about the status of our relationship are my preferred type.  I have had FWB type relationships…where we actually were friends…and actually still are.  But I like knowing that I am the only HBB in my man’s life and that he is the only sizzling man meat in my life.

HOWEVER, being a notuglynotfatwoman means that I get asked out.  It also means that I get asked for my number, if I want to go home with men and if I want to participate in various sundry sexual activities.  Now, I like sex with the right man…please note above statements.  But I do not like sex with 99.99% of men.

Here is the simple way that it works:

• We meet.
• We think each other is, like, ya know, kinda cute.
• We conversate.
• Option A–We find that we think each other is, like, ya know, kinda really f***ing stupid…convo ends.
• Option B–We think each other is, like, ya know, deserving of a Nobel prize.
• We exchange contact information: number, email bla bla bla.
• We use said contact information to contact each other.
• We have a casual date.
• More conversation.
• Option A–One of us realizes that our judgment had been clouded with alcohol and our friends should have stepped in and removed the beer goggles.
• Option B–We want to kiss in front of the entire world.
• Repeat final step until both people want to tear each other’s clothes off…proceed to rending said clothing.

At no point am I obligated to have sex with potential dating partner.

If I do not want to this does not mean I have a problem.  My not wanting to let any particular male of the species get his hands on my goodies does not mean that I am frigid/sexually starved/too picky or (my favorite) “that you don’t know what you’re missing, I’m the best you’ve ever had.”  Actually, I do know.  Anyone that says that isn’t.  Because if you were that great you would have chicks pounding your door down and wouldn’t be bothering me.

Asking me repeatedly will not change my mind.  It will reinforce the accuracy of the decision I made in the first place to not let particular male touch my goodies.  Chances are I know how to touch them better than you anyway.

Now, I do not think this problem exists for females only.  I have a lot of male friends and have been in social settings consuming adult beverages on one or two occasions and have made observations of similarly obnoxious behavior in females.  I have, on a very memorable occasion, been the instigator of said behavior.

If a guy does not want a girl that does not mean he is gay.  There are dozens of possibilities for why he could not be interested.  He could be married, engaged, in love.  The love of his life could have just left him or died.  He could have children at home that are currently his priority.  Or, as the book title so aptly put it, perhaps he’s just not that into you.

For men or women, gay or straight or whatever floats your boat:  if someone does not want you, they don’t want you. Let it go, hang out with your friends or get a hobby.  Took me a long time to learn this one, so save yourself some pain and learn from my screwups.

Big Mac Attack

I normally eat some damn yummy food.  I can COOK. Capital C-O-O-K, cook.  Really.  Like making soup stock from scratch, homemade pancakes for breakfast, tomato sauce from actual tomatoes.  But every once in a while (like every 28 days)  I get a craving for really gross, greasy nasty food.

I want McDonald’s.

Well, actually, I want In-N-Out Burger, but they don’t have those in Italy.  So once a month when the second B in the name is in all her crampy, evil, get TF outta my way if you like being unmaimed glory I head over to the local purveyor of all things greasy, disgusting and unrecognizable as actual cow parts burgers ie the McDonald’s on Via Cavour here in Florence.

This is not something I am necessarily proud of, but believe me, it is safer for all those who come into actual physcial/cyber/telepathical contact with me to allow me this indulgence and not have my head spinning around on my shoulders.  I know the exact time and duration of my transformation into an exorcism worthy, spawn of the she devil, fire spewing, uttering of remarks so caustic they can frighten veteran chefs, biznatch.  Give me my burger, shut up about what I’m eating (I’m too skinny right now anyway) and go away.  Far away.

BUT.

I only do this because of dire need.

I will never forget coming back from a trip here in 2007 and a couple weeks later going to have my haircut by the most rocking stylist in San Francisco, Jaime.  We knew each other even before she was a stylist so we had a tendency to talk a lot.  She is a fellow addict of all things tasty and delicious and happens to be married to a chef, so surprise we talked about food too.

So, I am sitting in the chair at Salon Miel.  I am telling her about my encounters with aperitivo, bistecca alla Fiorentina, Brunellos etc.  Maybe the occasional comment about some hot Italian guy.  Maybe.

Then the person in the next chair starts reminiscing about her trip to Italy.

Ah, a kindred spirit, I think.

WRONG.

In her meanderings through the Italian peninsula and through all of the culinary delights that the different regions can offer she ate every meal at McDonald’s.  Yes, thousands of miles from home, among some of the most loved alimentary offerings on the planet, the woman was a McMuffin and Big Mac eating machine.

How this is possible is beyond my scope of comprehension.  Women who go and spend over $200 for a trim and highlights generally do not have budget restrictions that require a fast food diet.  There is an abundance of food that would please even the most unadventurous of palettes.   PIZZA, good Lord, why not eat pizza?  Who doesn’t like pizza?

After she left, Jaime and I looked at each other with that WTF expression that says, “There is nothing you can say to me to make me understand the twisted reasoning behind such deviant behavior that would enable a human being with actual neurological function to make such illogical and irrational decisions.”

Then she gave me a blow-out and I looked pretty.

Vegetarianism: My Nemesis

Meat, beautiful meat

To preface:  I actually tried being a vegetarian.  For nearly a year I did not eat any type of seafood or meat.  For nearly a year and a half I did not eat any meat.  Then I sat down to a big, fat juicy steak and never looked back.

For those who are actually able to practice vegetarianism without preaching or lecturing to other people about what they should or should not eat, kudos.  For the type of vegetarian that does not realize that the vast majority of fish really do eat other fish, stay out of my dietary concerns.

Yes, I do like animals.  I have rescued quite a few personally…not to eat, mind you.  But I actually do have enough of a science background to know that I am an omnivore.

Specifically:

• My teeth have evolved not only for the grinding motion necessary for the consumption of plant material–molars in humans are similar to herbivores–but I also have canine teeth.  Canine teeth have one evolutionary purpose–the tearing of animal flesh–thus, their presence in the mouths of all land-dwelling carnivores that I can think of.
• My digestive tract contains the necessary enzymes to break down animal proteins.  To any student of evolutionary biology this would indicate that the consumption of animal protein is necessary for an organism such as myself.
• My immune system suffers if I have a reduction in the amount of animal protein I consume because it needs sufficient protein in order to function optimally and not lose up to 35% of its lymphocytes.
• My body needs 22 amino acids, eight of which must come directly from food sources because the body can not manufacture them.  Animal proteins are generally complete and provide the body with all essential amino acids.  Lysine is the limiting amino acid in cereal grains and happens to be a key component in cell renewal, hormonal balance and immune response.

My diet contains a large variety of foods.  I am a Slow Food proponent and I do not eat anything I know or believe to be endangered or at risk.  I do, however, eat a large variety of foods that many Americans do not.  I prepared a lovely quail dish the other day that I think would have been consumed by only a small percentage of my friends.  I also eat beef tongue, liver, sweetbreads, snails, wild boar, rabbit, venison, duck, goose and probably a few other things that a lot of people find questionable.

But I like them.  I will not stop eating them.  And I will not feel guilty about it.

So there (sticks tongue out like a two-year old).

Lesson of the day:  If you do not like what is being served, do not eat it.  Then there is more for me.