Life, art, and complaints of Cat Razim

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Complaining, Xylitol, Cats in heat and just my ramblings on…

In trying to keep up my commitment to blog more often, I realized that I’m only blogging on matters that are “serious” or as an excuse to rant from a soap box no one is paying attention to. I like to complain. I do not realize I do it sometimes. Back in ninth grade I was dared to go a week without complaining. Yeah. I made it twenty minutes. To rectify this but still shout from the buoy where no one can hear me scream (like that one time jet skiing… ) I decided to finally get around to writing about happier things.

Who am I kidding? I’m still complaining but on a more humourous key for your amusement.

Fisrt off- DIETING!

Holy frakking kill-me- now-DIETING!

After about a year and a half I finally made it to a doctor’s office for a check up. (Lies. The new patient check up isn’t until September. I went during open clinic hours for an ear flushing. Don’t judge me and my “baby ear canals”) But, like they do, the first thing behind that large door separating the country kitchen waiting room (I kid you not) from the patient rooms was THE SCALE!

I’ve always hated scales.

Thunk! slide slide slide, thunk slide slide slide, thunk OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!!

*ahem* Yeah, So I started a diet or according to Arthur Agatston, MD – A better way of life. The South Beach diet (which my doctor recommend I try) I picked up The Boy Wonderful from work, went to the bookstore to find a book (yes people. books. I’ll rant on this later.) went to the AMAZING STORE OF AWESOME known as Wegmans and sat down with my Wonderful and planned our next week of meals.. the start of Phase 1.

We’re now starting week one of phase 2. I have another blog where I’m more detailed on the subject of self betterment so I shan’t bore you with my cries for bread, pasta, potatoes, corn… Oh! Sorry. I can get past most of that, but what I’m really missing is my daily coffee and/or tea. I drink my french-pressed coffee light and sweet with raw sugar. My tea? loose-leafed and sweetened with honey. (not all tea, but this amazing Mango Ceylon…) For the past two weeks, if I wanted my black gold, I needed to use SUGAR SUBSTITUTE! Yes, I looked forward to that like I look forward to licking a public toilet.

Now, this isn’t new. Sugar substitute has been around for awhile. I can remember the small pink packages of Sweet n Low that used to say in bold red letters on the back,  ”this product has been known to cause cancer in laboratory animals.”  Not very appealing! I love coffee, but I don’t love it enough to drink poison. I guess I can also blame the cook inside of me. I can taste everything. I can taste from memory, I can taste from smell, I can almost accurately taste combinations when cooking on the fly … and I can taste all your chemically treated “sugar” you lying corporate asshats. “Tastes like sugar” my ass, more like “tastes like sugar and ammonia.”

Xylitol. Xylitol is the answer to my suffering.

You can easily wiki information about xylitol and its benefits, but I’ll give you a quick and dirty rundown. It’s sugar alcohol from sugar, no chemicals, registers a 7 of the GI scale (sugar is 100… and this is a game of golf, people. Low is better.) AND it promotes healthy dental hygiene! WHAT! — no, it’s just that fucking amazing! But I’m lazy and Splenda is a perfect one to one ratio for cooking, baking.. Xylitol is too!!! (I should get paid for this *wink*wink*.) I am now a happy camper.

Ah, SECOND on the list. Cats. More specifically my roommate’s cat who is in heat. I love cats. I do. It’s not just in the name, but this poor freaking creature. Holy damn. I never watched Jersey Shore and I’m sure I’m  one of the few who hasn’t heard a word/sound/mating call come out of Snookie’s mouth. But the noises this cat makes is what I imagine Snookie sounds like. The roommate claimed she was going to get her fixed before moving in. Yeah… about that…

So I deal with the cat now at three in the morning with her untrimmed claws and moaning sounds that sound like she’s whining “I wannna get laaaaaaaaaid!!” (seriously. This is some exorcist-type crazy shit… ) I’ll say I do not appreciate getting cheesed on! It was NOT the titty-filled fantasy trip I was promised. (That previous metaphor was inspired by South Park episode “Major Boobage“. NSFW and mature audiences only blah blah blah… )

There you have it. Complaints that hopefully entertained and informed. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a cup of coffee waiting and a few episodes of Top Gear to watch!

posted by Cathy Razim at 6:24 pm  

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