Gluten Free Month: The Biggest Farce of the Decade

September has been dubbed 'Gluten-Free Month!' Do you even know what gluten is? Most people don’t, so before I start the rant about all the morons who ask me if pickles and lettuce have gluten in them, here is a dictionary definition:

Gluten: NOUN! A substance present in cereal grains, especially wheat, that is responsible for the elastic texture of dough. A mixture of two proteins, it causes illness in people who have celiac disease. (And people who have a wheat/grain allergy)

A year or two ago, all the people (usually overweight people and moms who like to shame other moms who choose not to breastfeed) who relentlessly asked me if random products contained pomegranate or acai berries in them started asking me if random products were gluten free. (“Do these apples contain gluten?”) I would always follow their questions with “Do you have celiac disease or a wheat allergy?” 9 out of 10 times they would say no, so I asked them why they needed something to be gluten free. They always answered with:

“My doctor told me to stop eating gluten and I’ve been losing weight! Or for the stay at home slave moms: Gluten causes autism/ADHD/donkey ears.”

Now, your weight loss couldn’t be possibly attributed to the fact that you now pay attention to what you stuff in your pie hole, would it? Instead of a bag of potato chips you now eat a bag of rice cakes and/or carrot chips? Were you aware that potato chips don’t have gluten either you fat fuck? I usually think they’re full of shit anyway. “I’ve already lost 4 pounds!” Well, lady, my anorexic ass can lose 4 pounds too, and I can eat all the gluten I want in the process. (Okay maybe not all the gluten I want. But I can have bread in the morning and not eat all day and drink nothing but gatorade. 4 pounds? See ya later. Maybe tomorrow night even you 4 fluctuating bastard pounds.)

And for all you moms who are trying to be gluten free because you think your child will get ADHD or autism, hear me out. Your kid is fucking four. He’s going to be doing A LOT of weird shit and its not because he was 'eating gluten’. He’s not sitting still at preschool? Well, he is four. A few decades ago it was the norm for 4 year olds to be tearing around outdoors or indoors, but you insist because he doesn’t feel like sitting through a 45 minute dinner where you and daddy talk about finances, he MUST have ADHD. And don’t even get me started on the whole autism craze. Your kid can’t socialize? I’m sure it’s not because he was raised in some closed off environment where mom referred to herself in the third person in a baby voice all the time. “Mommy needs a latte so it's time for Philip to go sleepy sleeps.” (These are the same people who failed miserably to teach their kid any manners.)

Gluten isn’t bad for you. Its not fantastic for you either. Its just kind of there, like a lot of things in this world. (Mayors, internet, pickles, Greenland) It probably causes cancer, like everything else does, too. 

If a doctor tells you to go gluten free, ask them why. If the answer is anything but ‘you have celiacs disease/grain allergy’ Then they are probably going to keep talking and charge you an extra 200$ for sitting there and being ‘consulted’. Leave immediately and eat some bread.

Creepers Episode 3: The Long Haired Creeps

Once again, in a land far far away in the desolate midwest, I encountered another creep. I guess he wasn’t THAT creepy to me, but to the naked eye he was off the creep charts.

I had not seen this young man in awhile, he was a friend of a friend’s. Him and his other long haired creep companions invited my friend and I to their… ‘studio’. I’m pretty sure they had become heroin addicts at this point, but that’s normal in the midwest. People get really bored and depressed and wonder why summer went away. Anyway. The events unfolded as such:

Phase 1: Black Sabbath.

Upon arrival, the long haired brigade went into a female induced tizzy. They didn’t understand why we had come. (To enjoy their odd company of course… and they invited us…) So they decided to turn on some music. And as good little long haired creeps should, they decided to first soften our eardrums by blasting Black Sabbath at us. (Small room. Large stereo. Back to 1973 we go!) My friend and I pretended that we enjoyed going deaf, while the three wise men stared at the wall, occasionally making a weird squinty orgasm face that looked like it was followed with a ‘sense of accomplishment’ face. Half way through ‘Master of Reality’, they turned off the stereo.

Phase 2: Playing guitar.

One of the creeps had shut off the stereo. He NEEDED to play guitar. So we all sat in silence and pretended we liked his acoustic noodling. It ended after he dropped his lit cigarette through one of his pant holes.

Phase 3: Heavy Flow

The acoustic noodling opened a Pandora’s box, and suddenly the three creeps were scrambling around the room and turning on all the amps and the subwoofers. Uh oh. They turned all the dials to ‘loss of bowel control bass’ and started to play. It sounded heavy. It had a flow. It was like the soundtrack to my period. I tried to tell my friend this, but of course we could hear nothing over the bass, and suddenly she just started yelling heavy flow at the musicians. They stopped playing and she was still screaming “HEAVY FLOW! HEAVY FLOW!”

“Hey man. Isn’t that like… a tampon vocabulary… thing?”

“Nope…”

Phase 4: Lady's Turn.

I snatched the drumsticks away from the elfish looking dude and my friend wrangled a bass away from the 95 pound weakling and we began to jam at them, see how they liked it. They went to bathroom to shoot up. ‘How rude!’ my friend exclaimed. They came back and were somehow under the impression that I was this fantastic drummer. (It’s pretty easy to play drums ‘heavy flow’ style…)

We got bored. We left.

Phase 5: The Unique Proposition.

My creep texted me later that night. His text read:

“Hey girl lemme play yo pussy like a trombone”

Sigh.

Creepers: Episode 2.2: The Beautiful Creep Makes a Move

I’m sure those of you who have read my other posts came across Creepers: Episode 2, the story of the gorgeous man who turned out to be more looney than a toon. Of course, I didn’t learn my lesson, so I went to hang out with him again.

Let’s begin our story with the fact that he texted me before 9am on a winter vacation day. Why any 20 year old guy would be up booty calling at 9am is beyond me. Hey freak don’t you know the sun out? Go back into your man cave until winter grants us a 4pm sunset.

Of course, upon arrival, our friend the gorgeous creep opened the door to let me in and before it even closed he had bolted to his bedroom. He was still in his short shorts pajama ensemble, and I’d imagine since it was now 10am and no one puts pajamas back on after a shower, his balls were still itchy.

We did some morning baking, and once we were all baked out we just sat there awkwardly, staring at the television, which was off. (I don’t mind awkward. In fact, I live for uncomfortable situations.) He toyed with his nuts while I poked around his DVD collection. The sun was out so I suggested we go for a walk and bake elsewhere. Judging by his famous ‘I may just shit my pants right now’ expression, that was going to be a big fat NO.

I sighed and poked around in my purse, hoping one of my ladies had texted me to hang out so I wouldn’t have to tell him the hurtful truth: ‘I’m bored and you haven’t made a move so I want to leave.’ When, suddenly, he spoke!

Him: “Sooooooooo… would you like to…….. give………. me a blow job?”

I honestly thought I was hearing things. No one actually comes out and says this to a woman, do they? I say nothing and look over at him and the ‘I just shit my pants’ expression crawls across his gorgeous face when suddenly, he blurts:

“I’M SORRY I CAN’T GO DOWN ON WOMEN!!”

What on earth is this man babbling about?! Convinced this was too goofy to be real, I closed my eyes and pondered if I should bolt out the door or jump out the window. Which exit would wake me up from this nightmare quicker? When I opened them, he was two inches away from my face with his eyes slit, mouth parted, and his tongue peeking out. I yelped like a lap dog and uncoiled from the position I was sitting in rather quickly, which launched him far far away to the other side of his shoe box room. I couldn’t help but wonder what his illusive brother thought of all this while he hid behind closed doors in the room next to us. (Never saw his brother. Heard him snoring once…at 6 pm… That was it.)

I informed him that it was time for me to go. (My excuse was that I wanted a sandwich, and he obviously did not have enough ingredients for me) He got all pissy-pants and said ‘See you next time!’

Unfortunately, this was the last time I would visit him. He had a few fights with himself in my texting inbox a few times after this however…

Find the first part of this story here!

Juice Cleanse: The Farce and its Victims.

As mentioned, I am a ‘Natural Foods Connoisseur’. My current employment requires this so they have their own certifying program. That means I get to sit through lectures about the odds and ends of homeopathy, poopy soy products, and why it’s always important for a chicken to be happy and cage-free before you slaughter it. (You also shouldn’t put eggs in cages because apparently cage-free eggs are MUCH better for you, me, and our pal earth.)

Phase 1: On the sales floor, it’s my job to educate customers and eventually get them to purchase some unnecessary  wellness product or some overpriced free-range rib eye steaks. Lately, my education efforts have gone towards these rather rotund women on some weird ‘juice’ cleanse where the juice is actually lemon water, honey and cayenne pepper. They usually use the “I’m just doing this to be healthier.” Line, when I think it may just translate to “I am a fat and frequently try fad diets.”

Phase 2: The lemon-honey-cayenne-water will do nothing except MAYBE cleanse a few organs. Otherwise, if you aren’t eating anything with it, you become irritable and unpleasant and no one wants to be your friend. My next step is to convince the customer to buy an actual fresh juice which is made by shoving vegetables through this huge scary loud juicer that is near impossible to clean. (Beats… apples… carrots…lemons… cucumber…etc.)

Phase 3: Although the fresh juiced juice that I made for this poor gullible woman is now packed with 20 times more nutrients than her wannabe-tea concoction, she is still losing out on some valuable calorie burning. She could have just eaten the 2 pounds of produce I put through the juicer and had almost two meals worth. And because they would have been whole vegetables and fruits, her body would have burned more calories eating/digesting them than it just did slurping the 7$ juice down. (If there are red beats in the juice, their poop will be pink.)

Because I do not know the names of the countless women and men who do this everyday (Spend 7$ on a puny cup of juice…) I must hope they stumble upon this post and never fall for the fresh juice farce ever again.