Entry #33: Juicing

Above is a picture of one of the most badass dudes to ever exist: Jack LeLanne. It's unfortunate that he thinks organic food is a scam, but at least he's a strong advocate of juicing and vegetarianism and a strong opponent of processed foods. You know who else rules and was a strong supporter of juicing? Fucking Max Gerson. I'd add the Juiceman to this list, but I'd already be a target of criticism from the mention of Max Gerson by every boring asshole out there who watches Penn and Teller's Bullshit and medical drama shows that should have "bullshit" tacked onto the end of their names. The AMA is probably already contacting the FBI to send somebody out to beat me with a nightstick and flash a Neuralyzer across my face.

Back on topic, juicing rules - but it's a total ripoff if you don't do it yourself. Places that juice, including Robeks, charge somewhere in the area of five dollars for a simple fucking juice with two or three ingredients.
So what do I like to juice? Beets, carrots, celery, peaches, apricots, ginger, chard, and apple - not all necessarily in the same juice. Unfortunately my juicer sucks a lot of rod, so I don't juice too many greens or herbs - otherwise I'd be juicing more spinach, parsley, cilantro, etc.
The best juice I've made so far? Golden beets, carrot, ginger, and apricot. Fucking sunrise; throw some fucking buckwheat pancakes off to the side and it's a breakfast of nutritionally sound asskickers.

Whenever somebody tells me they juice I immediately think more highly of them. Unfortunately I don't have any stories about customers to relate to this topic.

Entry #32: Health Pt.2

So I recently started doing something in the last couple months that I would've never foreseen years ago: I started going to the fucking gym. I used to get all my excercise from basketball and later biking - but now basketball would only be an option on my days off, and my bike is still waiting to be fixed.
What am I pissed off about now, exactly? Well, it'd be a fair assumption to think I'm pissed about fucking meatheads trying to convince me to eat lean meats and drink whole milk, or push powerbars - but that's not the case this time. In fact, only once did some fuckface who's not employed at the gym try and inquire about my dietary habits. I told the dude that I was running fucking empty on the treadmill and he asked about what I ate: I told him that I ate some cabbage and noodles, some apples, and some water. He told me I needed to eat some chicken and gave me a lecture on protein, while I ignored him and walked out of the gym listening to Cro-Mags.
The whole issue about the gym pisses me off is the popular opinion held by most Americans that caters directly to the food industry - you can eat whatever the fuck you want as long as you work it off. Apparently science has uncovered the great mystery of health: try and avoid a caloric surplus and you'll be doing well. How the fuck does this make any sense? Can I drink some cyanide and work off the calories? If you're putting toxic shit into your body it's going to affect you somehow, I don't give a fuck even if you sweat most of it out of your pores - it's still going to have some negative affect on your health. Diet is far more important than excercise, and fitness and wellness are not synonyms. Luckily the personal trainers at the gym that I go to aren't really this type I'm complaining about. Luckily. Otherwise I probably wouldn't attend the gym I do, and I probably would've made a fool out of myself trying to argue with them at every possible opportunity.

I'm not trying to downplay the importance of regular excercise - otherwise I wouldn't have dropped a fucking hundredspot on a gym membership when I was far from financially stable.
You know what's fucking gnarly? Some fucking weak documentary called "Killer At Large," which offers by far the weakest "solutions" I've ever seen in any food related documentary, highlights the problem with this emphasis on excercise in American culture. Just like pharmaceutical drugs, excercise allows you to eat whatever the fuck you'd like without any obvious issues. Go ahead, be a fucking gluttonous hedonist - you can work off the calories and keep enjoying your Twinkies and Big Macs! Then you can take your fucking Prozac to balance out your miserable existence that ultimately benefits nobody other than yourself and the powers that be.

If I may leave this entry on a less serious note - I wish I knew how to skateboard so I could do that for excercise:

Entry #31: Okra

As of late I've been all about okra. Holy fuck it's delicious.
Two weeks ago I got a couple pieces of freshly picked okra from City Fresh. I ended up being short on oil and way too tired to try and bread it, so I just boiled it in water. I don't even care that it got as slimy as twat: it was fucking fantastic.
So how does this segway into my job as a produce stock clerk? I keep getting customer complaints about product quality, which is definitely an issue at many grocery stores. See, most workers just don't care that much, and it's not a priority of theirs to monitor the quality of the entire department. Back when I worked at a smaller store, I actually had to look through all the expiration dates, parole the entire department looking for bad product, and front all the perishables in the last hour of my shift. At a busier store? No fucking way we have the time to routinely look for bad product, because we're way too rushed trying to finish stocking product and filling any gaps. So who does this duty get passed onto? The morning workers who, apparently even after decades of working in produce, don't do a very neat job; the end result is tons of shit on the floor, total shit. I can't really blame the morning crew, because they're probably feeling just as rushed to fill in gaps and suck the dicks of management pigs. Of course that's when most of the work is done: in the morning before management arrives and late at night after management leaves and the shipment arrives.
So anyways, I've never seen high quality okra, because it's always blackened, spotty, and about the size of a flash drive. The okra at City Fresh was pretty nice, but just a few days ago I went to a farmers market and got some fucking ace command, fucking Top Gun okra. The okra I got is seriously longer than my flacid dick - it's fucking huge.
Four bucks for all of their okra that they picked for that day. Anybody who says farmers markets are expensive are just whiny fuckshits that buy trash quality from Wal-Mart or eat everything out of a can or microwave safe container. Farmers markets aren't expensive, and I'm fucking stoked on okra.