Update: No-Fun Food

I am a week into my gluten-free experiment and so far there have been no stomachaches or general crappy feelings. So sadly, I must admit, maybe it really IS wheat that is the culprit in my myriad of GI complaints.

The week started out shaky as I ate a salad with my all-time favorite salad dressing (Annie's Naturals Goddess dressing)and lo and behold, it contains soy sauce and yep......you guessed it, soy sauce contains wheat. I also made a super-delicious Thai peanut stir fry with peanut sauce that also contained soy sauce, ergo wheat. It has been a challenge for me to continue healthy eating while on this plan since whole grains have long been a staple of my vegetarian diet and the soy-based meat substitutes I am addicted to all contain wheat as a binder. I found I was eating easy to grab snack food that I normally don't eat (such as potato chips, etc.) because I know they don't contain gluten and I wouldn't have to cook an elaborate meal.

So, I think I hit my stride yesterday with my meals. I was able to make easy meals that were nutritious and low-calorie:

breakfast: 1 cup. plain *oatmeal with 1/4 cup of dried fruit and 8 almonds
1 Yoplait light yogurt

lunch: 1 c. of vegetarian chili
1 cup of DeBoles corn-based spaghetti
1/4 c. shredded cheese

dinner: salad with caesar dressing
edamame in pods
small baked potato with light sour cream

snack: handful of mixed nuts

Now, if I can only eat this everyday I will be fine. Bored, but fine. Tomorrow a new challenge will be presented as Jeff and I were invited to go out to eat with friends of his and they picked...Doantelli's. Good thing they have a gluten-free pizza there. I hope it tastes just as good as their others but something tells me it won't.


* re: oatmeal: I know a lot of people who cannot eat gluten do not eat oats and oatmeal because it may be cross-contaminated by wheat. I have chosen to forgo this notion since I do not have celiac disease (as far as I know) and I am on a restrictive enough diet as it is.

A Warm Spring Day In Neverland......

Last night, upon hearing the news that Michael Jackson passed into the great amusement park in the sky, Brad and I rushed into the studio to take live phone calls. We invited listeners to call in and share their favorite memories of this great artist and tell us their favorite song of his.

Many listeners regaled us with stories of their dressing up as him for Halloween or trying to learn to moonwalk on their linoleum kitchen floor. We all have our memories of the Great MJ. I have saved my most favorite, and special memory of Michael Jackson for this blog.

During the spring of 1996 I received a letter in the mail. The envelope was edged in gold and smelled faintly of lavender. The return address was listed as Neverland Ranch in California and I realized that my dream had come true. Michael had finally written back to me after all these years. I trembled as I impatiently ripped open the envelope and held my breath as I reached inside. A first-class ticket was enclosed to California along with a handwritten note that stated simply, "I hope to see you soon. You are a special little boy."

I held my breath and shook with excitement. I decided to rush inside and pack immediately. My mother stopped me on the stairs and asked where the fire was. I pushed her out of the way and explained that I was going to a better place. A place with orangutans, an indoor movie theater and a freshly pressed sequin glove laid upon your pillow every night.
"But it's the start off your summer vacation! Won't you miss your friends? Archery camp starts next week!" She said as she stood in the doorway.

I knelt down beside my bed and retrieved my duffel bag. "Listen lady, I have waited my whole life for this moment and I am not going to let you get in the way of me fulfilling my dreams!"

"But you are only nine years old! How do you even know what you want?" My mother frantically paced my bedroom as I continued packing. "We were going to go to Yellowstone this summer!"

I laughed at her innocence. How could a national park and a spout in the ground compete with the Man in the Mirror? "Mother, please. I have had enough of your coddling. It's time to let me go."

I arrived in California with nothing to my name but my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle duffle bag ful of play clothes and an expectant attitude. A black cargo van embellished with a large lightning bolt on the side was waiting for me outside. I immediately knew it was for me. I approached it with confidence and climbed inside the van. I sank into the red velvet upholstery and helped myself to the mini bar that was nestled beside the personal stereo. A cigarette and a glass of champagne was exactly how I wanted to remember the start of this adventure.

I must have fallen asleep because my next memory is of pulling through a wrought iron gate and seeing a line of smartly dressed personnel lined up awaiting my arrival. I was surprised at how well Michael must know me. He knew I enjoyed such pomp and circumstsance! He truly was my soul mate.

I exited the van and was lead into the grand foyer. I approached a purple velevet throne tentatively. It was situated amongst the shadows and I could barely make out the slight figure that was primly seated on the throne. As I walked toward the chair I was met with my hero wearing nothing but a regal robe and a smile. My prince was waiting. My prince.

It is now where I leave you wondering about the rest of my trip. That summer we shared shall forever remain between the two of us. Those sultry nights spent walking the beach, those evening spent languishing in each others arms as we watched the "Music Man" in his theater, those mirthful days we spent feeding the llamas....all those memories are alive within me.

He is gone forever and I will never be able to look at a jacket filled with zippers the same way. He taught me how to love and most importantly, taught me the importance of diapering your chimpanzee.

Swingin' on Craigslist

This morning Brad and I discussed a story about a group of swingers who had the misfortune of having a get together during a hotel fire. Sucks to be them. But it got me and Brad thinking.....where are the swingers in Mankato? Do we have them here? And if we do, are they quintessentially Minnesotan? Are the swinger ladies wearing patchwork-applique sweatshirts with kittens on them? Do the men wear John Deere hats? Do they offer you a hot beef commercial as a courtesy for banging their wife?

So, in our own perverted version of computer lab, Brad and I both logged onto Craigslist and looked under casual encounters. Brad had to explain a lot of the acronyms to me, and I learned that MW4MMM means a man and a woman looking for three men to have sex (or in other words, a man and his wife who grew up with an uncle who had boundary issues.) I quickly learned there are a lot of people in Southern Minnesota who are either bored or in a hurry to ruin their marriage.

As we were both at our respective desks in the studio looking at pictures of middle-aged women spread their legs, I realized I have a horrible body image compared to these meaty gals. I hardly ever wear shorts for fear that my thigh jiggling will mimic an old waterbed, and here are women with thighs that looked like they took a nap on a gravel driveway showing off their gams like they were Betty Grable. And obviously, people are taking this chubby bait.

Tomorrow I may come to work wearing nothing but a bathing suit and a confident attitude. SexyLola69 from North Mankato has inpired me to do so.

The Golden Girls and the Potty Patch

OK, I should have been in bed hours ago. I have had a big day today and am dead on my feet. But it is 11 PM and there seems to be a mini marathon of the Golden Girls on the Hallmark Channel and the episode on now is the one where Dorothy's lesbian friend comes to visit and she hits on Rose. So obviously I am not going to bed just yet.

The remarkable thing about late-night television is the ability it has to seduce you with seemingly useless products.....until you realize that you desperately need these products. How have I lived my life without the InStyler? Or even attempted to cook without an onion blossomer? I consider myself an adequate hairstyler and cook, but clearly I have been mistaken. My life has apparently, according to these commercials, been comprised of frustrating moments lived in black and white while I fumbled with a seemingly easy can opener. According to these ads I most likely have slammed the can opener down onto the coounter in discouragement and raised my head heavenward while mouthing the simple phrase "why?"

I am a sucker for these products and fortunately do not have to suffer the indignity of conacting a company in Millsburg, Tennessee for my Magic Bullett. I leave this to my mother. Actually, she just waits until they appear on the shelves at Target and then abandons them after trying them once or twice. They get relegated to one of the industrial shelves she keeps in the kitchen and I play with them during fits of boredom while visiting. But I digress. Tonight, after Rose pretended to be asleep while a lesbian with a thing for cotton-candy haired, bosomy blondes slept next to her, I saw the Potty Patch.

The Potty Patch promises to be the answer to all of your pet feces and urinary problems. Tired of taking your Sheltie outside to defecate? Just lead him to the Astroturf next to the Culligan water dispenser. It is just that easy. When he is done, scoop up the poop, flush it and thank the heavens you never had to go outside. Peeing is another issue. Your small, medium or large dog can urinate on the faux grass and it drains to a tray underneath. When you are done collecting urine for the day you simply take the tray and flush the "liquid" down the toilet. Et voila! Once again, your dog (or you) does not need to suffer the indignity of walking in your own yard.

The idea disgusts me for two reasons: first, the thought of collecting urine makes me want to retch, and secondly, this is fucking genius! There are people like my mother out there willing to buy this product and I didn't invent it, therefore I am not making money off of it! Right now my mother lays paper pads out for her chihuahua to poop and pee on and it is only a matter of time before she gets this. It is such a simple concept and thousands, if not millions, of overly indulgent pet owners will be clamoring to buy this. I am saddened that I never thought of this, and even more saddened that I have to invent something equally as simple yet marketable.

I am waiting for the day an adult human version of the Potty Patch will be needed and then I will debut it on late-night TV. It is inevitable that Americans will soon become too lazy and self-absorbed to take time out of their 4 o'clock Court Block to tend to their bowel needs, and this is where I step in. When the time is right, I will unveil my new product. It will be nothing more than an ultra-absorbent towel that one lays on the floor. However, I will call it a "microfiber blend" and asssure my purchasers that it is made in Germany, and you know the greatest products come from Germany.

Please send $19.95 now! Our operators are waiting!

No-Fun Food

I am about to embark on an odyssey that sounds like about as much fun as an Amish quilting bee. Due to ongoing stomach issues, my doctor has told me I need to eliminate wheat for two whole weeks. And yes, I have had to do this before, but let me be honest here; I wasn't that diligent.

I attempted this last January and I lasted about a week. This was mostly due to the fact that wheat is in EVERYTHING. In fact it most likely is found in trace amounts on the keyboard I am currently using. It is that insidious. I realized this as I was wandering the aisles of Hy-Vee desperately looking for a salad dressing that didn't include derivatives of ol'wheaty. I spent about twice my food budget on wheat-like substitutes like waffles and pizza dough. And in case you were wondering, they taste nothing like the real deal. After suffering the indignity of paying $8 for a package of 4 frozen waffles and realizing they tasted like wet cardboard, I was done with this experiment.

So, here I am again, and this time I am going to give it the full two weeks. I am determined to get to the bottom of my stomach issues and I need to grow up and be an adult. I suppose this would be easier if I wasn't a food addict. I think about food from the morning I wake up until I go to bed. This isn't just because I am fat, I genuinely like to cook and enjoy the sensations of eating. (I remember I once read an article that said people with ADHD tend to have food issues and are overweight because they crave the constant stimulation that eating provides. See? It's not really my fault.)

I think I will embark on this journey next Monday. I want to enjoy pizza at the Wow Zone today and Jeff mentioned going to Donatelli's this Saturday. It would be a crime to go to Donatelli's, (which was featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives on the Food Network), and not have pizza and pasta. Who drives 100 miles to a famous Italian joint only to have a salad? I mean, please.

I will keep you updated on my progress, and on Monday I will have a delcious dinner consisting of air and disappointment.

Good Mornings

I believe there is nothing worse than waking up and being accosted by your loved one and all of their questions. You are barely awake, hardly lucid and struggling trying to remember your own name and your loved one's, and he in all his cheery awake-ness expects you to have a scintallating conversation. This is exactly what happened this morning and I only feel slightly guilty for my snappishness.

I woke up and shuffled to the kitchen to make my oatmeal. I should now explain my underpants were sliding off my butt, and my hair looked remarkably like that of a young Neil Diamond. Jeff immediately started conversations and criticisms of my oatmeal. I was not in the mood. I sat on the couch and Jeff, in all of his cheerful awakity-ness, is chattering like a 7th grade girl with his first cell phone. I was not amused.

For those of you who listen to the show, you know Fridays are really difficult for us. They are the endcap of a long week, and of course, it is the day the Monkey is in all morning long. He will invariably saunter in late and with only half of his work done. There have actually been times when Brad and myself will be laughing and joking in the studio and within minutes of Stunt Monkey arriving we will be teetering between feelings of anger and homicidal rage. If I was observing the studio from the outside, I would assume it was magic. Evil, black magic, but magic nonetheless. For such a loveable and squishy person, Stunt has the ability to turn a room within minutes. He is the Pillsbury Doughboy with an evil agenda. We are only an hour and a half into the show today and already Brad and Stunt have already threatened each other's lives.

We have a remote today at the Wow Zone to help raise money for Mankato's fireworks. Please donate money so we can stop pimping ourselves out for incendiary devices. I will be really pissed if we don't get free pizza outta this deal. Sometimes free food is my only motivator.