Archive for January, 2008

Hemp…Milk? My Reactions.

January 9, 2008

Below is a picture of three varieties of Hemp Bliss hemp milk. It does exist. And yes, I had some.

hemp milk

Occasionally, I like to try something new and perhaps a bit risky. You see, my lactose intolerance obviates me from fully enjoying milk (and other dairy products) without digestive consequences. Hemp milk is dairy free, since it’s made from, well, hemp. I was over at Toschi’s the other day and ventured to get some sort of other milk substitute. I’ve had rice and soy milk and much to my dismay, I’ve not enjoyed their tastes nor their textures as a milk substitute. So, I thought I’d try a plant/seed milk.

I bought the chocolate flavored hemp milk and I gotta say, it’s horrible. The taste is nutty, and sort of like…eating a piece of hemp rope. The texture is a bit on the diluted side, and it leaves a strange and unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth. Worst experience with any kind of milk. Ever. The kicker is that I spent four dollars on a little 32 ounce box of it. That’s right, box. A box that can be stored unrefrigerated before opening the seal. This isn’t a mutant kind of milk or its hideously deformed 2nd removed cousin, no my friends, this is the anti-milk. The anti-milk that claims to be milk. Let this cautionary tale forewarn you if you ever decided to drink something that’s supposed to come from the nipples of a mammal but instead comes from a plant or seed. Stick with the nipples.

Now, don’t get the wrong impression, I think hemp is useful for a lot of other things, textile or otherwise. Perhaps I could reconcile my poor experience with hemp milk by making a butterfly net out of hemp where I chase my butterfly-esque dream of being a real boy who can drink real milk someday.

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Crosswalks of Danger

January 8, 2008

Every so often Very often when I’m walking to work in downtown Fargo, I’ll be crossing the street at the appropriate time (a.k.a. when the “walk” sign is illuminated or when I have a green light) someone will be trying to turn as I’m walking across the street. I’m not an “expert” when it comes to the rules of the road, nor do I claim to be the greatest driver that has ever existed, but I’m pretty sure that the pedestrian has the right of way to cross the road if the “walk” sign is illuminated and that the cars that want to turn have to yield to said pedestrian. Now, this is something that I’d like to think that many people could grasp logically, even without knowing all the rules of the road. I mean, there’s someone walking in front of your car. I guess I don’t want to be known as the person who likes to run over harmless pedestrians. Unless I have a t-shirt that says, “I like to kill pedestrians when they cross the street,” well then, I suppose I’d be more prone to go ahead and just run someone over. The patience of these drivers with whom I interact with tend not to have much…or else I suppose they see me as an obstacle in their crash course of driving a huge SUV, talking on their cell phone, and fiddling with their car stereo system. Why this obscene driving is not an Olympic event escapes me since it takes a great deal of talent stupidity to perform. Of course, if those contestants/drivers are really going to go for the gold, they really shine when they yell at me to get of the way.

Strangely enough, this happens more frequently during Sunday morning when I’m out for a morning stroll, in front of either the Catholic cathedral or the Lutheran church (which face each other on the same road). These people are either rushing trying to find a precious parking spot…or leaving in rabid and unconcerning way trying to get home so they can watch big, sweaty men tackle each other on the television (edit: I’ve been informed it’s some sort thing called “football” that these primitive people enjoy so much).

But where is the resolve or, at the minimum, where is the compromise? I am not heard nor am I seen by these drivers. Or at least I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt that they’re not trying to intentionally run me over. What more can I do than to dodge their Durangos and escape the clutches of the Escalades? Well, I suppose if the Bush administration had any left over tanks (and I’m not even asking for an armored tank, just a plain old tank) I could square up to these drivers and run them over. I wouldn’t consider this a dog-eat-dog society, I’d say it’s more of a status-symbol-turned-killing-machine-cornering-the-now-underdog society.

Anal Retentive: Beginnings

January 1, 2008

Having published this domain name and customizing the header weeks before writing this post, I had decided to wait until January 1st of 2008 to begin posting. You may be asking, “Well why didn’t you just start posting immediately?” My answer to you is so blatantly symbolic of my personality that it is sickening. Sickening. I waited because I wanted to start this blog that coincides easily with a time line. Coincidence? Perhaps. Anal retentive? Oh yeah. Of course, nothing screams “time line” than the Gregorian calendar. And why not just go along and make the blog play nicely with easily memorable dates? It just makes it that much easier for me to remember when I started: January first, two-thousand and eight, Anno Domini, Gregorian time.

And so, at 5:23 am, there is only but the pressure of an invisible hand squeezing the back of my head into a dried orange and grime in my eyes as the lids resist the heaviness of the weight trying to pull them down. No feelings stir within and an
incommodious and self-conscience me decides to go to bed.

2008 better improve quickly. Or else.