Because it calls for repeating

I don't consider myself really crunchy. At least not compared to the rest of the Internet and blogging world.

I drive a car. -1,000 crunchy points
I love, love, love my Diet Pepsi. -500 crunchy points
And oh, how I hate granola. Automatically lose the game

But I try. Really. I do.
I used to grow my own vegetables (well, until I took a new job and had no green space in the new apartment), try to buy only local produce (which does get pretty limiting come winter, hence the word "try"), and generally would rather walk than drive (yay for the bus!).

I hate the hautiness of it all. I hate the competitive game of how you must do X,Y and Z, and you must love your menses, and how you just completely fail if you consider doing anything but all that's crunchy, all the time.

I'm human. I can't be like Barbara Kingsolver and go live in Appalachia for a year and make my own wheat and kill my own chickens and collect eggs every morning. Mainly because I'm pretty sure that my city's ordinances don't allow me to keep chickens -- especially not in an apartment.

I started watching a new show on TLC -- Ashley Paige, Bikini or Bust -- and had to turn it off because I was so disgusted.

Are we supposed to have pity for a young woman who made it big and was too stupid to figure out how to spend moderately or pay her bills?

I know I don't.

Whoot!

My piece of paper came in the mail today.

Like, whoa

I've always seen whipped cream -- the real stuff, not the stuff that comes in the aerosol can -- as being horribly difficult and time consumimg.

So tonight, to go with my stawberry shortcake, I decided I'd just sit down and whip it while watching the Next Food Network Star. I thought it would take a while.

Imagine my surprise when I suddenly had whipped cream.

Dear Furball:

I know that as the house cat, you consider it your duty to help while I am cooking. Let's go over, again, what helping isn't. Helping is not swarming in the Human's legs as she is ladleing boiling hot jam, thus causing her to spill boiling hot jam all over her left thumb. This will result in the Human swearing both at the jam and you. It will not get you dinner any sooner.

No love,
The Human

58 is much too early.

Who's going to do the whiteboard electoral count this year?

Dear Abby:

Refraining from batting at the drawstrings on the human's trousers when she is inverted would be much appreciated.

Thanks,
The Human