Bilk Milk

For my health psychology class, we had to do a group project on something relating to the subject.  After having met with group members, we decided to try going a couple of weeks without any dairy products to see what the effect would be on our bodies and energy level.  I was under the impression that it wouldn’t be too bad.  Apart from a few Michael Bolton moments, I didn’t see it presenting a huge deviation from my normal lifestyle.

Never before have I been so wrong.


Every day (almost literally) of the project, I was presented with the opportunity to partake of something delicious but was denied therefrom.  The hard part wasn't really not eating stuff--I've starved before.  Instead it was the feeling of dejection and denial that came with my refusal of these torturously omnipresent comestibles.  Never before have I been offered so many cookies, invited to so many fondue parties, called upon for so many milk squirt gun fights, supplicated for so much pudding wrestling, and challenged to so many gallon challenges.  It's like there was some sort of milk god exercising some cruel divine punishment for my self-imposed lactoabstinance.

But at the same time, I think it was kind of refreshing—like a cold glass of milk.  I gained a few things from the endeavor:  First off, it helped me to realize that I need to develop a lot more self-discipline, mostly because I found that I’m prone to throw a tantrum/complain incessantly every time I have to show some.  Second, it strengthened my belief in this quote/concept that I love:

“Right decisions are easiest to make when we make them well in advance, having ultimate objectives in mind; this saves a lot of anguish at the fork, when we’re tired and sorely tempted.”

Though its application is much more valuable in real life situations and with real life decisions, it also applies to anti-milk projects.  Third:  Weight.  But instead of being something I gained, in this case it was something I lost.  10 pounds from the start of the project, to be exact.  Hot dang.  Fourth, this shirt:
 

Well it’s not a guarantee yet, but I have made it known to my groupees that I want that we should wear these when we present and even photoshopped it to show them I am serious.


Also whose idea was it to start drinking/making things with cow’s milk anyway?  How did the conversation go there?

• Dude so I know I’m a grown man and everything, but I miss milk. 
• Yeah man I know what you mean... 
• Hey I know it’s not socially acceptable to drink human milk past a certain age, but what do you think about getting some milk from somewhere else?  
• Like maybe some sort of unsavory beast? 
• Well there are some cows over that way.  They’re pretty unsavory. 
• Oh you mean the ones over there eating out of that pile of garbage? 
• Well yeah those or the ones over there walking around in their own poop.  
• Oh yeah I saw those ones, too.    
• Oh okay yeah.  Well yeah I think that’d be okay.
• Sweet let’s do it.  
• Say, you think other people would like this, too?  
• Oh yeah definitely.  Who wouldn’t? 

Got milk?

Kid*napping

The other day I was on my way to work when I noticed I was approaching a friend of mine.  As we drew nigh unto collision, he began to act as though he was going to brutally attack me.  To add to the misfortune of this happenstance, another friend of mine (who, mind you, did not know the first) walked out from behind him and began to fall upon me as well.  In panic, I cowered to the ground.  Once they realized that I was afraid of the both of them, they in-cahooted and proceeded to beat me up.

It was in this moment that I realized that I wouldn’t be good at getting kidnapped.  Or avoiding it, rather, because I would be really good at being intimidated and forced to go somewhere.  Have you seen those movies where one of the protagonists is just walking along in a semi busy area and suddenly they’re surrounded by a bunch of sketchy fellas?  Then by the time they realize what’s happening, they’ve already been seized by said sketchy fellas and are subsequently forced into a waiting vehicle to be taken away?  Well that’s what the aforementioned situation reminded me of.  Except I didn't fight or kick or scream.  At all.  I think I might've whimpered a bit.  So hopefully I’ll never be important enough to merit being kidnapped because it would probably be pretty easy.  Just come at me and when I realize you’re ganging up on me, I’ll crumple up into a conveniently-sized package and you can probably heft me fairly easily into a waiting vehicle nearby.  I’ve even lost a few pounds recently.  You’re welcome.

PS:  Kidnapping is kind of an unfortunate word, both because of what it describes and because of its fairly easy misconstrual.  This stems from an unfavorable linguistic morphology.  Many a false accusation and serious incident could be avoided with a change in word formation (asterisks have been placed to denote ambiguity in spelling and, thereby, meaning):

• “Oh no!  A kid*napping!”  Is someone being stolen or is it simply a vocal hypnophobe?

• “I’ve been kid*napped!”  It could be easy to see how someone might be crying out for help when really, it's equally likely that there's just a child catching some winks on the proclaimer.

• “Kid*napping?  I love those!”  It is pretty cute.  Unless it’s a kidnapping.

• “Hey did you hear about the latest kid*napping?”  Are they referring to a recent abduction? A child that likes to sleep in? Perhaps the least punctual of a group of children shutting his/her eyes?

Reform is in order.

Verde que te quiero verde

Every year as St. Patrick’s Day approaches, I get excited.  Why, you ask?  I will answer your ask: Because I love the color green. Green is an overtly and aesthetically pleasing masterpiece. Green is associated with such concepts as life, renewal, nature, fertility, hope, and joy. It is sacred in some cultures. It has even been said that green is sexy-wexy. Allow me to use a well-known jingle to make a point, albeit with a few modifications: "Everything is better with [green] ... on it." 

However, every year I am saddened as many people fall by the wayside and fail to recognize and/or take advantage of this opportunity to renew and be fertile. I'm always disheartened and disappointed (both!) at how many people don't wear green on St. Patrick's Day. In an ideal world, a mass of green bodies would greet me in celebration of St. P's Diddy as I braved the ascent to campus. Actually, I'm always disheartened and disappointed (still both!) at how many people don't wear green, no matter the day or occasion. I want those green bodies all the time. I don't know what it is exactly, but people look better when they wear green. Really. I find a person more attractive if they are wearing the color green. There's just something about it that looks great, and it rubs off on the body it's rubbing against. If you know what I'm sayin.  

In fact, it reminds me of a poem I once read for a Spanish Literature class entitled "Verde que te quiero verde" by Federico García Lorca. As far as the meaning goes, I only know that green is the color of passion and romance in Spain ;) and that it's depressing ;( But I wholeheartedly agree with the direct translation of the title, which is "Green—I want you green."  And that is the moral of our story for today.  

I want you (to wear) green.