Friday, November 28, 2008
And you would think there were no limits to my cheapness ;). Then again, we aren't talking about my taste in clothes nor colours of wall paint for the living room (bubble gum pink, just to remind you). I am eating vegan, and I have accepted that certain specialty items are going to be expensive. But really, since I am the only person using them and when you consider portion size, it's not all as costly as it sounds. Still, it burns my butt when I spend the money and go the extra mile to find a product and I hate it. Don't get me wrong. I will finish off a product that I don't LOVE if it was expensive, then just never buy it again. I find ways to use up products that I didn't like rather than throw them away because it feels less wasteful. Now and again though, I have come across something that is so heinous and gross that it goes right in the garbage, regardless of cost. I wish I had made that decision about the frozen veggie pattie I had for dinner. As far as I can discern, the main ingredients are undercooked basmati rice, overcooked veggie cubes, undercooked veggie cubes, and some mushy pastey substance that I have yet to identify. The box was expensive, and it contained 8 patties. They are almost 200 calories each so I would only ever eat 1 at a time, makng it seem like the package is lasting forever. Lasting forever and taunting me from the freezer. Tonight I tried yet another cooking method hoping that I would hit on the holy grail that would make these things not so disgusting. Yeah. Still looking. Why do I torture myself like this? I could have found something that I liked instead. I could have had a cup of quinoa with my sauteed veggies and enjoyed the meal immensely. Or heated some brown rice (I cook it in batches and freeze it in cup size servings). But no. I sat here, staring that veggie pattie in it's lowly undercooked carrot cube eye, doused it in salsa, and choked it down. Please. Somebody save me from myself. Sneak into my house in the middle of the night and throw those things away before I eat another one! Want to know what is the most sad about all of this? There are only three left. Seven times I have gagged down one of these babies. Pitiful.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
I like to wear sleeveless or short sleeve shirts. Yes, even in the winter. Because, you see, I am used to being overly warm all the time. It is much easier to put on a sweater if you are chilled than it is to strip off a long sleeved shirt when you are too warm at the office - know what I mean? I haven't quite adjusted to being colder now (it's the lower blood pressure I am sure), so I keep a sweater at the office. That way I don't have to remember to bring one and I won't be miserable all day if I forget it and turn out to be cold all day. I threw said sweater on this afternoon and was immediately overwhelmed by some strong, stinky fumes. "Somebody has been wearing my sweater", said Goldilocks, "and that person apparently bathes in cheap perfume". I took it off right away, but the scent had already transferred to my shirt. It was giving me a headache and I just couldn't get away from it. It was like the B.O. from the car, only with a sweater and perfume. I had to endure it all afternoon. Changed the second we got home. And know what? Now I can smell the perfume in my HAIR. Just to make sure I wasn't losing my mind or getting paranoid and imagining phantom smells, I made DD sniff my hair too. "Blech. It smells like the make-up department in Sears". I don't know how annoyed to be. I mean, I don't mind the borrowing so much. But leaving me with a sweater that I can't even stand to be near doesn't seem fair either. I am sure the guilty party has no idea that she smells like a hooker, and it is not MY duty to tell her either. So the sweater goes right into the washing machine (alone, I am not taking any chances that the scent will spread to other clothes while mingling in that dark place) and when I bring it back to work? Hiding it in my drawer.