All posts by Mush

About Mush

I want to be a veterinarian because I love children.

The remains of my Sunday brunch, aka “dinner”

In which there’s a picture of food, because isn’t that what the internet’s for?

Look! It’s the spinach frittata from The Lowry.

Spinach Frittata

It was delivered, of course, because we never go out, especially not for brunch.

The love of my life is basically impossible to roist out of his home for trivial things like eating out or interacting with humanity. He’s great at errand-running, and typically does the grocery shopping, even, but I can only nag him into going out for brunch a couple of times per year.

Anyway, it’s a spinach and basil chiffonade frittata with brie and oven-roasted tomato, Parmesan, and herbs; sided with hashbrowns, rye toast, and a cup of Hollandaise.

The Hollandaise, shockingly, was real (and not the instant, lemon-flavored gravy you often get). The frittata was rubbery and overcooked, but the toppings were brilliant! Super-crispy browns, too!

This and a couple cups of coffee with heavy cream is all I’ll eat today, because whenever I have a high-carb day I keep my calorie intake really low.

Potatoes! Toast! Carb indulgence!

Entitled first-worlder rant!

In which I whine like a little bitch.

I decided I wanted a thing. A thing I don’t need, but it’s so cute and would be so fun. And there’s a sort of sense of nostalgia, as well.

See, way back in the day, when I lived in Iowa, I had a Gameboy Advance and a camera attachment and a thermal printer that printed on sticker paper.

gameboy selfies

I took the thing all sorts of places. At one point, I made a collage: I printed images of friends and parties and road trips and arranged them on a piece of paper, printed with clouds and blue sky, and stuck it in a frame.

Being thermal paper, the adorable picture stickers all turned first beige and incomprehensible and then black after a couple of years. I hadn’t counted on that. I remember leaving that framed black-squares-on-a-sky-background art on the wall when I packed to leave Iowa for good.

(It was just one of many, many things that had become garbage in that old farmhouse. Like the trunk that fell apart after being left in standing water in the basement-which-had-been-the-living-room-I-had-had-to-live-in, and the two leather coats that had literally molded while hanging in a closet on the floor above, and all the filthy and rusted kitchen implements…)

Anyway. I can’t even remember where those devices are now; I probably sold them on eBay. I used to be really good at selling old electronics on eBay. Sold all my Apple Newtons and retired cell phones on eBay.

NOW. LOOK AT THIS:

ZINC

It’s a tiny printer. A tiny Bluetooth printer. It’s a Polaroid Zip instant photo printer, and it prints without ink on some sort of magic 2×3″ paper that is also a sticker.

You can send images to it from your phone! It’s adorable.

I really have no need for such a thing, so I bought one.

Used. From eBay. Because dropping $120 on a toy seemed stupid, I got a used one for $70.

Now here’s the actual point of the rant, which actually doesn’t have shit to do with mini-printers but is basically a variation of YOU KIDS GET OFF MY LAWN:

eBay sucks now.

Totally.

Everybody’s an idiot slacker.

The Story of the Mini-Printer Purchase

I bought a used Polaroid Zip from an eBay seller back on March 18th, and he’s got my money but he still hasn’t even shipped the fucking thing.

I waited a week, then contacted him politely asking for the tracking number, and he told me it was at the post office and that there was “something wrong” with the shipping label.

Finally he got me a tracking number – TEN DAYS AFTER I PAID FOR THE THING – but that was two days ago and USPS still doesn’t have the package. He told me it had been dropped off and that it takes “a day or more” for it to show up.

Okay, kid, you’re a slacker, I get it. But you’re basically just phoning these lies in. Everybody knows packages show up right after they’re scanned. An hour at most, not TWELVE FUCKING DAYS, you lying little shit.

So I just messaged him that if USPS doesn’t have the package by the time I get off work tonight, I’m going to report the transaction and get my money back.

Just get the fucking thing to the post office already!

And if you’re gonna lie, at least try for something plausible. “I haven’t shipped it yet because my mom’s in the hospital,” for example. Because “the post office has the package but I called them and they said there’s something wrong with the label” is fucking ridiculous. People don’t call the post office, son, and the label would have had to have been acceptable for USPS to have ever had it in the first place. Duh.

You’re an idiot.

I’m so mad bro.

The Story of the Video Card

A couple months ago, I sold a video card for Scott. Explicitly noted in the auction that it was used, in good condition, and that I did not accept returns. Got a decent price for it.

The guy received it, contacted us for technical support on how to use it (which we mostly ignored, because fucking google it this is an eBay transaction we’re not the fucking OEM), put it in his machine for two weeks, and then reported to eBay that it had never worked—

—AND THEY REFUNDED HIS MONEY OUT OF MY PAYPAL ACCOUNT.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I did appeal and get my money back, but my Paypal account had a negative balance for two weeks and it was a pain in the ass. The little fucker told us he’d used the card for at least two weeks, then claimed to eBay that it was DOA!

The Story of the Other Stuff

Okay, to be fair, I bought a bunch of retro dishes off eBay last year, and all those transactions were flawless.

And the extra ZINK paper I bought the same day is already here, and has been for over a week.

So I am forced to revise my premise: eBay doesn’t really suck, but these fucking kids, man. Who buys a used video card, asks for fucking technical support when he’s already ON THE INTERNET, and then lies for a refund?! Who sells something and then doesn’t expect to get some shit for not shipping FOR TWELVE DAYS?!

I’m so mad bro.

Dip

In which I don’t understand.

Why do store-bought dips suck?

I bought a huge container of artichoke-jalapeno dip last weekend, and while it isn’t exactly inedible, it’s really not good.

You can safely buy salsa — well, many of them, at least — and those sort of 70’s-style chip dips (like French onion or whatever), and a few bean or cheese dips, from, like, Tostitos.

But guacamole? Awful. Creamy spinach or artichoke dips? Bad. I’ve never bought a hummus that wasn’t mediocre at best, and bitter at worst.

Which is so weird, because it seems like pre-made dips would be really easy to get right. Especially hummus! Or spinach and/or artichoke dip, or guacamole!

Aging while female: “Still not really a fan!” edition

In which I rather complain a little.

It’s 29F outside. I cracked the windows while I tidied did the dishes and made the bed, and it can’t be over 73F in here, but I’m overheating! Very hot water just used to be very hot water; these days it’s like I’m being tortured and my hands turn red and swell up! Just doing the damned dishes!

Then there’s the times I’m suddenly freezing and need a blanket, though nothing’s changed in the past half hour. Temperature regulation: I barely seem to do it anymore! How weird is that!

I will probably die this summer. It’s impossible to keep this apartment much under 80F even with blackout curtains, because the building is made of brick and both windows face south and have no awnings. The entire external wall just radiates heat all fucking day long all summer long, and the AC unit verges on useless. Last year I was miserable. I don’t know what I’ll do this year. Sit in the bathtub in the dark with ice cubes, I suppose. Or spend all day every day in an air conditioned coffee shop at five bucks an hour.

And I’ve been on a diet for, what, two months now? No pizza, no pasta, no lattes. I’d kill for a bowl of black beans and brown rice, let alone a nuked tray of cheesy, creamy, carbolicous Stouffer’s® mac & cheese! I’ve had maybe six pieces of bread, and all of it was 100% whole grain! I’m being good! Where are the results!

Breakfast

I keep refried beans, which used to be a staple of my diet, as a treat. (I know I said that in my last post, but OMG seriously. Fucking beans.)

I’m living on omelets, vegetables, cheese, hard boiled eggs, tofu, and miso. Shredded cabbage really doesn’t substitute for hashed browns, no matter how hard you try to pretend it does, and spaghetti squash gets old real quick, even drowning in cream sauce or marinara and cheese. I’m completely bored of Boca burger lettuce wraps and mugs of broth.

Lunch

All this deprivation and I should be getting results, no? No. I’ve lost a couple inches off my waist, and my ankles don’t bloat as much during The Curse. That’s about it. My fat feels ever-so-slightly less firm, maybe. I see no visual evidence of success, and while I do feel better, I’d like to also look better if I could, please!

Last time I did low carb (well, as low carb as one can as a vegetarian), the inches fell off. Now, my physiology has decided this fatness bullshit is my set point, and I get the feeling I will never not have jowls again. I can barely stand to see myself reflected in anything.

And I’m not eating any sugar! Once a week I let myself sweeten my coffee with Equal. I’ll have a 5 oz. glass of Crystal Light, for fuck’s sake, if I’m craving a soda or fruit juice, and even then I usually dilute it with unsweetened iced tea. I had some sugar-free jello a couple weeks ago. You try eating under 40g of carbs as a vegetarian. It’s ridiculous. (And honestly, at this point, I’m not even really a vegetarian for moral reasons: I just cannot eat flesh. My jaw won’t do it. My stomach won’t do it. I’m just as likely to eat your face as I am a cow.)

They really aren’t kidding about it getting harder to lose weight as one ages. It’s not harder, though, it’s impossible! Gah!

OMG I WANT PASTA SO BAD RIGHT NOW

In which I’m dieting.

Tired (again) of being fat and miserable. Dieting (again) in an effort to be less fat and less miserable.

As a vegetarian, I find it very difficult to do really low-carb, so I’m doing a combination of “as few carbs as possible” and calorie restriction.

Eating a lot of eggs, tofu, Boca burgers, olives, and nuts.

Diet jello or Crystal Light when I’m desperate for a “treat.”

CURRENT STATUS: Desperate for a bowl of fettuccine Alfredo. Or mac ‘n’ cheese. Seriously. WANT. So, so bad.

I’m in my third week. I’ve lost a few inches off my waist, have more energy, and feel better overall. My nighttime teeth-grinding and snoring seem to be reducing. I’m meditating daily and ticking off the boxes on my housewifery list with much less struggle. My laundry is done. My mood is much improved (although being off the phones at work while I’m on the 90-day chat pilot also helps).

But I’m still fat. My current hip measurement is forty-three inches, which is insane for a person with a 30″ inseam.

Being fat is miserable. Fatigue, bloating, back pain, low energy, and a pervasive feeling of dis-ease and discomfort.

But beans are a huge part of my usual diet, and I’m missing them. (I had half a cup of refried beans yesterday, but they’re high in carbs, and so are rationed. I miss them.)

Tofu is so boring. OMFG. I fry it in ghee with spices, and put it in broth or eat it with sriracha mayo for dip, but it’s so boring.

Fried tofu

One gets bored of eggs. And you can only eat a single can of tuna per week if you don’t want to over-mercury yourself… so getting enough protein is hard when you’re a lacto-ovo pescatarian-who-is-really-mostly-vegetarian.

But seriously: a huge plate of creamy, gooey noooooodles, with garlic French bread?! And a lovely, light salad? Am I right?!

Or a broccoli-cheddar pot pie with lots of gravy, or a baguette with brie!

Gah!

Oh, well. No refined carbs for me. I guess it’s more omelets.

Feta omelet

Hating holidays is juvenile

In which I lecture. (Because fuck it, I pay the hosting fees here AND I CAN.)

You hate holidays. I get it.

You’re woke and clever and can’t be taken in by money-making corporate holidays. You’re totally too smart to fall for any of this shit.

So you reject the few celebrations your culture observes, and deliberately alienate yourself from one of the easiest ways to feel connected with other human beings.

You trot out childish tropes about how giving someone flowers is only meaningful if it happens randomly, rather than on a specific date. You blow off eating celebratory meals with your family. You can’t be bothered to make it to a friend’s birthday party. You think Christmas is too commercial and that decorating as an expression of celebration is tacky.

Well, guess what: you misunderstand human nature to a fantastic degree. Celebration has existed in every human culture ever. We need to celebrate. We’re hard-wired to celebrate.

Are holidays perfect, ideal, without flaw, impossible to improve? No, of course they’re not. Nothing humanity does is perfect, and we all know this. Stop being a twat.

Buy her some fucking flowers. It’ll make you both happy.

Current status

In which it’s Superb Owl Sunday, and I’m not even sure who’s playing!

It’s 1:24 in the afternoon and I’ve already downed this:

Bloody Mary

(It’s a brilliant bloody mary with lots of pickle juice.)

And this:

Tostada

(A mostly-homemade bean tostada of excellent excellence.)

Life is a wonderful — and delicious and tipsy — thing!

I’M AWARE OF MY TONGUE!

In which I even googled it.

My tongue feels slightly too large for my mouth. My bite feels like it’s off. My mouth seems to be watering more than usual, but it’s hard to tell because normally I don’t notice how much I’m salivating.

But today I’m super-aware of it.

And it’s driving me nuts! It’s been this way all day today, and some of yesterday, and a few days last week, and I want it to stop!

I think I bit it last night in my sleep. (I have a new teeth-grinding thing I do in my sleep now, according to the hygienist I saw a couple of months ago and my subsequent self-observation. It’s dumb. Sleeping me just grinds the shit out of my teeth. What the fuck, sleeping me? Sometimes I make my own jaw muscles sore. Which is probably contributing to this tongue awareness problem I’m having.)

Since I suffer from neither thyroid problems or allergies and my anxiety is reasonably under control, I’ll just chalk it up to the new teeth-grinding thing and more of the joyful fun that is aging while female.

On the incoming POTUS

In which I make political commentary.

I try to do my research. Even if I really, really don’t want to.

I’ve read several long-form think pieces about this man’s upcoming presidency. And the weird thing is that they exist: there are persons, educated persons, DC insiders, who are writing long-form think pieces about this man’s upcoming presidency as if he were just another incoming POTUS, and not the shrieking shitshow that he is.

It’s mind blowing. They talk about his indications of future policy, as if he had ANY policy. They talk about his cabinet choices as if the choices were made by a person who had any motherfucking idea of what he was doing.

Conclusion: there will be enough press behaving as if he weren’t a rolling goddamned disaster that he’ll be able to get all the attention he wants without ever having to acknowledge the massive preponderance of press calling him a moron.

It’s fucking insane, basically.

Vaccine safety deniers are weird, man.

In which Facebook gets far too much of my good material, so I’m cross-posting some here as well.

My original post, on Trump’s appointments, and specifically about his meeting with Kennedy:

Now we’ve got anti-vaxxers, climate change denialists, a rich bitch who has a weird hatred for schools. Absolute opposite of ‘brain trust.’

It received several responses. In one, somebody (from Fairfield, naturally) tried to call me out, as it were, on labeling Kennedy (who still believes in the thoroughly-debunked Thimerosol-autism theory, fer Chrissake) as anti-vax, because nowadays they call themselves “pro-vaccine safety.”

My response:

My interest in “debating” so-called “vaccine safety” with anti-vaxxers is zero, because one cannot have meaningful exchanges with conspiracy theorists. But what the hell, once more into the breach!

Your posts are just like every other anti-vaxxer’s posts. I never claimed to be an expert. I never claimed to be an expert. I tell you three times: I never claimed to be an expert. I claimed to accept the consensus of current scientific knowledge, which tells us that vaccines are reasonably safe and effective and do not cause autism.

And no, there are not “plenty of experts who disagree”: there are a few persons (every single one making money off of their anti-vax fame in some way or another) and a few papers that have been (or will be) retracted, upon which your movement bases all of its provably and measurably harmful views.

In the real world, the preponderance of evidence and the majority of experts all say the same thing: vaccines are safe and effective and do not cause autism. Vaccines are safer than cars by orders of magnitude, and yet none of you are lobbying to have cars banned.

As for being invested emotionally: I don’t sell any product or service that claims to help the so-called victims of vaccines or persons with autism. As they say: follow the money. You’re the one with a horse in the race.

I’ve read your site. You claim that the glorified hammocks you manufacture and sell are nearly panacea. Your idea of “research” that “proves” that motion while sleeping has any measurable, non-placebo, non-subjective effects on any condition is weak, and utilized specifically to earn yourself income.

Your beds are cool, absolutely, but there is no proof they’re medicine. Implying otherwise makes you no better than the charlatans who sell chelation therapy or chemical castration to the parents of autistic children! (Therapies that are effectively abuse, I must add, as there is no evidence the theories behind them are at all relevant or sound.)

A big round bed is far less abusive to an individual than chemical castration, clearly, but you’re still at least attempting to accept money from people on false pretenses. You may have anecdotal stories from mums who say the beds eased symptoms; I have anecdotal stories from people who swear that Rescue Remedy cures their panic attacks. These claims don’t mean that Rescue Remedy isn’t just water, which it is, or that the results aren’t placebo, which they are. Placebo is profoundly powerful. As is the mind.

And as far as Kennedy: I mean, come on. Thimerosol! That horse has been dead for a decade now. Autism continued to happen after it was removed from vaccines. Ergo Thimerosol is not implicated in autism.

Finally, experts agree that the phrase “pro-vaccine safety,” in the mouths of persons who do not work in applicable fields, equals being anti-vax. Your movement thinks it sounds more reasonable and less crack-pot (now that so many people frown upon being “anti-vaccine”) to be “pro-vaccine safety.” But if you’re merely a layperson, the distinction is merely a semantic ruse and nothing more.

My only interest in the anti-vax movement is this: kids are getting sick and dying again. Diseases that were under control are resurfacing in the general population. I myself am aging, and will one day wake up as a member of a vulnerable population.

And if I die from something PREVENTABLE because of the ignorant, fact-denying, anti-vax hysteria of persons like yourself, I’m going to be seriously pissed off.

I won’t be reading any replies, because there’s no point in engaging. But damn, just… damn. Climate change is real, vaccines are safe and effective, Big Pharma not only bilks us all out of billions but also keeps countless persons alive every single day, and humans have walked on the moon!