Rantopolis

Category — Disgusting things

Juicing–not for sissys

I just read that 150 million hot dogs are consumed on the 4th of July.  I, however, did not partake of this tradition today.

While the rest of you Americans were chomping on dogs and hamburgers and downing kegs of beer, I was planted in front of the computer working away.

Long about lunch time, I had this bright idea to “juice” my lunch.  Afterall, I had purchased a humongous bag of spinach, bell peppers and celery from Costco a few days ago.  I figure if I also threw in some tomatoes, I’d come pretty close to making my own V-8.   Throw in some freshly squeezed limes and some Tabasco, and I’d come pretty close to a Virgin Mary.  Genius.

That’s what it looks like when I channel my inner Martha Stewart.

So lemme ask you.  Have you every tried to juice vegetables?

If you don’t have a really good juicer, you might as well just stick your head into a garbage disposal.  The mess and splatter that’s created will make you cry.   If you do have a really good juicer  (I do!) then be prepared to spend at least 15 minutes on disassembly, cleanup, and counter wipe down.

If you ask me, I think this is the real reason you lose weight when you juice.  The calories you expend during the clean up is equivalent to a power session with a personal trainer.

You also have a 50/50 shot of visiting the ER afterwards.  Those blades are like piranha teeth.  Think about it.  Those puppies liquify carrots.  Get my point?

Okay, so three cups of spinach, four celery stalks, two tomatoes and a cup of carrots later, I end up with this:

I wonder what this is going to do to my gastrointestinal tract.

Looks like someone whipped up some grass clippings, right?   I carefully taste it hoping it doesn’t make me wretch.

Hmm.  Not bad.  I then reach for the limes, the Tabasco and a dash of sea salt and pepper.  It doesn’t change the color any, but kicks the taste from okay, to sort of delicious.

So, I gulp down half a pitcher of this stuff all the while going through the entire clean up process.

By the time this whole fandango is done, by kitchen is clean and I am full.

Wait.  I’m going to repeat that.  I’m full on vegetable juice.  No bread.  No meat.    And I wasn’t being held hostage.

Freakin’ miracle.

July 4, 2012   Comments Off on Juicing–not for sissys

Neti pots. Anybody else on this train?

If someone had told me a year ago, that I would be shoving a ceramic spout into my nose and pouring salt water through my nasal passages, I would have died laughing.  (The only thing funnier would have been someone projecting that I would be featured on the runway at a Victoria’s Secret fashion show.)

Does this thing come with Aladdin?

Typically, what happens behind the “doorway” of a human orifices is not something our society tends to discuss in publicly.   (Notable exceptions include televised colonoscopies and commercials on teeth bleaching.)

But back to the neti pot. Apparently, nasal irrigation has been used in many eastern cultures for centuries.   Who knew?!  (Here in the U.S. we prefer killing trees and turning them into tissues that can be blown into.)

Anyway, since Dr. Oz brought the technique to the attention of the viewing public on an appearance of The Oprah Winfrey show, the neti pot has gotten  a big awareness bump.

As one who tends to suffer from dry nasal passages in the winter (I know….TMI), I thought I should give it a try.  (Also, my ears were feeling a little stopped up.)

Living in a high rise, I considered—but then quickly rejected—riding up and down the elevator to see if that would do the trick.  (No, we don’t have nasal hoses in our elevators, I was referring to relieving the stuffy ears.)

So, I turned to the neti pot.  Basically, you fill the little pot full of lukewarm water and then put in a 1/4 teaspoon full of pharmaceutical-grade salt.

Now for the tricky part.

You lean over the sink and open your mouth.  You put the spout up against a nostril and start pouring.

If you like the sensation of drowning you are going to love this! (Sarcasm is my friend.)  You will immediately flashback to how you felt when you were first learning how to swim.

The key to all of this is to stay bent over and breathing through your mouth.  Otherwise, you will be very unhappy from the resulting choking and gagging that is about to follow.

But here’s the thing.  If you do it right, you will feel awesome immediately afterward.  Within seconds, “everything” had opened up.  It was as if a plumber had roto-rootered my head.  There was a lot of draining, but without a huge bill and a butt crack.

Apparently eastern pros at this technique graduate to oils and other products as irrigants.  Somehow I can’t picture myself shoving pomegranate-infused extra virgin olive oil into my sinuses, but then again, I’ve never been known as being super adventuresome.

So, there you have it people.  I am now a deep breathing maniac who is consuming more than my fair share of oxygen.  But I’m not going to get worried until I accidentally start inhaling small things like paperclips and grapes.

December 8, 2011   3 Comments

The hell chronicles: part 1–the toilet

My sincere apologies Rantopolis readers for not having posted earlier in the week.   Blame it on Satan.

Yes, apparently, I was somehow transported into hell earlier this week.  That is the only reason I can come up with for the crap (literally, as you are about to find out) that has rained on me in the recent past.

About a week ago, I received a phone call from the management office that oversees my Florida Keys condo.  (Hi Jason. C’mon…you didn’t think I wasn’t going to write about this, right?!)  The call began with, “I’m sorry but I don’t have good news for you.”

Oh, great.  What is it?  A bed bug infestation?  A late season hurricane detached my unit from the rest of the building and it is now floating to Cuba?   A bunch of bikers spray painted “helter skelter” all over the walls?  What??!!

“Well, it seems the renters that were in there earlier today, flushed the toilet in the master bathroom and then checked out.  Unfortunately the toilet overflowed and dumped gallons of water into the master bedroom.  It’s reached almost to the external wall.”

And people wonder why I swear so much.

What did the fucking renters put down my damn toilet?!  A watermelon?!!

And don’t tell me they flushed the toilet and then suddenly they ran out not knowing that it was overflowing.  Last time I checked my condo wasn’t a changing station for the Ironman Triathlon.

Maybe they flushed a baby alligator?

I just cannot wrap my brain around how careless people are with other people’s property.  I now literally want to find them and pour the entire contents of Lake Michigan into their living space.

Lucky for them I do not know their name or address because I’d already be on their front porch with a hose.

When all is said and done, the bill for this shit-tastic experience will end up being close to $1,000.  Water removal, fan drying, industrial steam cleaning, etc.  (This doesn’t include loss of income.)

Did I mention they had to remove the baseboards because the water had seeped behind them and started creeping up the drywall?

In 21 years of owning this condo, I’ve never had a single issue with a toilet overflowing.  (And I gutted the entire place four years ago, so everything is brand new.)  And, the toilet seems to be fine after the fact.  So, there is only one thing that remains.

That is for me to wish this particular renter an eternity of bad luck.  Let’s start with the ebola virus and work our way up.

Stay tuned for part 2 of the Hell Chronicles.  (Yes, unfortunately, there is more.)

November 10, 2011   5 Comments

Announcing the impending invasion

I can’t remember a day this summer when it hasn’t either been raining or more than 90 degrees.  Except for those days when it was raining and 90 degrees.

This has easily been the crappiest weather-related summer in my entire life.

Apparently Chicago has been relocated to the rainforest.

One of the joys of living in Chicago has always been the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors after a brutal winter.  This year our definition of happiness is making it home without having a tree branch hurl itself through the windshield.

I’ve watched the weather radar on my iPhone so much, it’s replaced Facebook as my most frequently used app.  That should tell you everything you need to know.

But here’s the most important thing.  I’m scared.  Oh, this isn’t about either the heat or the storms.

It’s about the impending invasion.

I believe with great certainty that we are currently incubating mosquitoes the size of Greenland.

The species size and ferociousness will require the donning of a full beekeeper’s suit before leaving the premises.

Mosquitoes absolutely love me.  However, my body usually has an adverse reaction.  (Welts, intense itching and complete misery.)

So, in addition to slathering myself with insect repellent, I think I’m going to lease a crop dusting plane to hover over me every time I exit the building.  I need it to dump gallons of pesticide all around me.

I’ll worry about the cancer and toxic effect on the environment later.

Listen up you blood suckers.  I’ve got you in my cross hairs.

August 7, 2011   3 Comments

Spargel: the vilest of the vile

A long-time friend reminded me earlier today (okay, maybe “taunted” would be a better word) of my repulsion over the dreaded spargel.

Now, if you haven’t traveled to Germany or The Netherlands during April/May, then you may not be familiar with something that most consider a delicious delicacy.  I, on the other hand, consider it the culinary equivalent of vomit.

Just pass me the hemlock.

Spargel is what the Germanic/Dutch Europeans call white asparagus.  (In the interest of full disclosure, I do not discriminate against asparagus of any color.  The green version makes me gag as much as the white. I hate all genus and species of them, equally.)

Just so you know, at my coronation as Queen of the Universe, they will be banished from my land along with jeggings.

Quoting from a 1702 work by Louis Lemery, called the Treatise of All Sorts of Foods, “[Asparagus] cause a filthy and disagreeable smell in the urine, as every Body knows.”

See.  This is a guy I could hang with.  (Except my quote would read, “Asparagus causes a filthy and disagreeable taste and smell.”)

Back to this spargel business.

For business reasons, I would frequently find myself  in Europe during the limited spargel season.  My distaste for the spears became so legendary amongst friends and colleagues that they would try to figure out ways to torture me with them.

This is how you ruin chocolate.

During one vist, I was actually presented with a package of white chocolate that had been carefully molded into spargel spears.  (I’m telling ya…those people love their spargel.)

On a subsequent trip, I was convinced the city of Dusseldorf was slipping concentrate of spargel into the drinking water.

Paranoid, much?

So, today when a friend reminded (more like tortured) me of my spargel issue by sending me a photograph of a candy display featuring the white chocolate version, I knew it was time to rant.

Let me say, I am well aware that most people love asparagus.  And if you love asparagus you are likely to even be more in love with the white, tender baby version.

But, that is absolutely not the case for me.  Ask my mother.  I’ve been spitting this stuff up ever since I was a child.  (I would also come up with creative ways to bypass my mouth and shove it into the garbage when my mom wasn’t looking.)

It wasn’t until a few years back that I sort of got a reason for my aversion.   Turns out I’m a super taster.  Yup.  That’s me.  I have more tastebuds at the end of my tongue than most people, so there are some things that I may taste more strongly than most of your reading this.

So, that’s it.  I’ve revealed my achilles heal.  If you want me to divulge my bank card PIN and my social security number under duress, just wave one of those stalks in front of me.

I will cave like a California sink hole.

July 28, 2011   2 Comments