then lie to me via email. ainsleydrew at gee male dot calm.
Stay tuned for my introduction to Generation Hex as I explore Wicca for a month. And please check out Jerk Ethic. It’s kind of like documenting someone tripping up a flight of stairs. In the funny way.
If you need anything written, anything at all, shoot me a line. Actual starvation makes sex with me kinda like fucking a bicycle, if bicycles were prone to weeping.
*
Here’s a bit of ego-stroking from some businesses who helped me go vegan:
“You have an awesome blog.”
Elizabeth and Erin McKenna of BabyCakes in New York City
“Thank you for your wonderfully kind words! I am happy to make your and /or your friends salivary glands 'dance' anytime. I hope to cook for you again soon.”
Bonnie Downey from the Paradox Café here in Portland
“It’s sweet”
Kelly Tisdale of teany
*
extra special thanks to
ministry of imagery
Friday, May 16, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Ready, Willing, and Sable
Fire up the grill...
The other night my freelance boss and mentor met me for dinner at a vegan restaurant.
She wore a full-length golden Russian sable fur coat.
Needless to say, in true passive-aggressive, non-confrontational Portland fashion someone spilled a drink on the collar of the pelt when I took her up to the bar and introduced her to the owners. Not red wine, not beer, but ice and a lemon, the dregs from a water glass. It was evidently a “militant” vegan on their way out the door, one who knew that they would not survive getting into an actual heated dialog with a blonde bombshell who not only totes a jacket made of small, carnivorous mammals but also wears diamonds the size of human kidneys in her earlobes.
I would like to express to this person, whoever you are, that your action embarrassed me and made me want to kill and eat your pet. You’re not going to gain any new sympathizers to your cause by behaving in such a spineless manner. The next time you see someone wearing something you find despicable, eating something you find inhumane, or behaving in a way that you find objectionable say something. That’s how we roll in cities like New York. It’s called being direct. It will make cynics like me start respecting vegans as opposed to mocking them. I was mortified that someone I respect, even if I don’t fully align myself with their fashion choices, was treated in such a way in an establishment that I considered to be “my” turf. I wanted to show how fantastic vegans are in only the way a new convert could. Instead I wound up backpedaling awkwardly, unsure of who was right or wrong.
Also, you have poor aim.
All of this said, I am still - yes, still! - not eating meat, dairy, eggs, or pizza. (I don’t like pizza. That has not changed.) I tried to have my CoffeeMate once but was wracked with the kind of nausea rivaled only by senior citizens eating day-old lobster salad on their first Royal Caribbean cruise. I still have the odd craving for rotisserie chicken or Yoplait yogurt but I really don’t miss any of my omnivorous munchies. That and Eva Darling nearly got me to propose to her after making me tofu scramble, fresh baked foccacia, roasted vegetables, and dark chocolate covered strawberries for brunch the other day. I’m actually eating better than I was before I went all-plant, and I feel better. I still have had to take two pregnancy tests just to make sure I’m not vegan eating for two, but my energy level is up and I’m feeling stronger. Maybe that’s more due to bike riding, skateboarding, and the warm weather making hot, tattooed Portland residents strip down to their light-cotton vintage duds. I hear a skateboard outside now, right on cue. Just got whiplash looking out the window.
I'm continuing with Jerk Ethic, and I’ve also decided that my next blog will be another exploration in something I shit-talk and yet don‘t fully understand.
I’m thinking Wicca.
The other night my freelance boss and mentor met me for dinner at a vegan restaurant.
She wore a full-length golden Russian sable fur coat.
Needless to say, in true passive-aggressive, non-confrontational Portland fashion someone spilled a drink on the collar of the pelt when I took her up to the bar and introduced her to the owners. Not red wine, not beer, but ice and a lemon, the dregs from a water glass. It was evidently a “militant” vegan on their way out the door, one who knew that they would not survive getting into an actual heated dialog with a blonde bombshell who not only totes a jacket made of small, carnivorous mammals but also wears diamonds the size of human kidneys in her earlobes.
I would like to express to this person, whoever you are, that your action embarrassed me and made me want to kill and eat your pet. You’re not going to gain any new sympathizers to your cause by behaving in such a spineless manner. The next time you see someone wearing something you find despicable, eating something you find inhumane, or behaving in a way that you find objectionable say something. That’s how we roll in cities like New York. It’s called being direct. It will make cynics like me start respecting vegans as opposed to mocking them. I was mortified that someone I respect, even if I don’t fully align myself with their fashion choices, was treated in such a way in an establishment that I considered to be “my” turf. I wanted to show how fantastic vegans are in only the way a new convert could. Instead I wound up backpedaling awkwardly, unsure of who was right or wrong.
Also, you have poor aim.
All of this said, I am still - yes, still! - not eating meat, dairy, eggs, or pizza. (I don’t like pizza. That has not changed.) I tried to have my CoffeeMate once but was wracked with the kind of nausea rivaled only by senior citizens eating day-old lobster salad on their first Royal Caribbean cruise. I still have the odd craving for rotisserie chicken or Yoplait yogurt but I really don’t miss any of my omnivorous munchies. That and Eva Darling nearly got me to propose to her after making me tofu scramble, fresh baked foccacia, roasted vegetables, and dark chocolate covered strawberries for brunch the other day. I’m actually eating better than I was before I went all-plant, and I feel better. I still have had to take two pregnancy tests just to make sure I’m not vegan eating for two, but my energy level is up and I’m feeling stronger. Maybe that’s more due to bike riding, skateboarding, and the warm weather making hot, tattooed Portland residents strip down to their light-cotton vintage duds. I hear a skateboard outside now, right on cue. Just got whiplash looking out the window.
I'm continuing with Jerk Ethic, and I’ve also decided that my next blog will be another exploration in something I shit-talk and yet don‘t fully understand.
I’m thinking Wicca.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Mouthful of Month
Well, I made it through the month as a vegan and I’m emerging pretty unscathed, though I will admit to a pregnancy scare 'cause my period took the month off in protest, likely due to my sudden drop in weight and unrelated spike in stress-level. Of course the fear of having a flaxseed/spelt bun in the oven led to the purchase of a home pregnancy test, the creation and marketing of such I'm sure was somehow linked to animal exploitation and countless tests on tabby kittens.
I haven't broken through the plant only dietary restriction finish line yet, though I have the feeling I will tomorrow with something as seemingly benign as my still beloved and dearly missed French Vanilla CoffeeMate. The conclusion I've come to, if I can be pompous enough to pretend that I've come to any conclusion from this experiment, is that food, in this societies, serves a much more varied list of functions than in other places in the world. While some cultures break bread to share in tradition or, you know, not starve, here in America (or maybe I should say in a predominately educated, largely white, mid-sized city such as Portland) a diet becomes a fashion statement, a political remark, and an accessory.
I will admit that it was fun at times to have been contrary and difficult when it came to food choices these past few weeks, and usually this was due more in part to the company I was in, or the level of attractiveness that the waiter or waitress possessed. But because the decision to cut out animal products stemmed mainly from a desire to step up my game when it came to talking shit while thrift store shopping or waiting in line for a Diet Coke at some hipster-filled bar, I learned the details regarding the various avenues that led "natural" vegans to their path only after I started to play Jenga with my own personal food pyramid. This means that I did get an education along with that Whole Foods 365 White Corn chip on my shoulder.
For example, I wouldn't have known that calves to be used as veal have their movement wholly restricted by neck shackles, or that a chicken slaughter line can decimate up to 8,400 chickens per hour, if I had simply scoffed at my roommate's revulsion towards chicken flavored ramen or my well-coiffed friend‘s pallor when seeing veal upon a local restaurant menu. I wouldn't have felt such serious adoration and respect for chef Brian Hill, the staff at Food Fight grocery, or John Janulis who co-owns the Bye and Bye, if I didn‘t know how fucking difficult it is to find vegan gum or that purchasing vegan lip balm is pretty much as easy as acquiring a PhD in acquired physics. I would have judged vegans with a broad, and yet ignorant, brushstroke. And, sure, the skinny-jeans wearing masses who seem to embrace a dietary restriction simply to stand out from the omnivorous (and mainly less privileged) global population will still my wrath and hear my venomous snorts at the checkout counter of New Seasons. But I've learned that sometimes the function of privilege, education, and the luxury of not dying from malnutrition can be used towards making a statement that all living things are equal. It’s the application of our dumb dietary luck of being born in this country that can illustrate the unfortunate fact that ignorance to the ridiculous bounty we’re able to access every day breeds the problem. If every person, and every vegan, used their brains along with their mouths we might be able to slowly devour the system that leads to cruelty, consumerism without compassion, and over-consumption in the first place.
I still have a lot to say on the topic of food as a means of giving comfort, but I’ll save that for another day. I ate a burrito this evening that fell so heavily in my stomach, they could have felt Anaheim chili aftershocks as far away as Klamath Falls. Vegan food comas are as exhausting as their sinew strewn nemeses.
Stay tuned for my next culinary adventure, where I only eat black pudding for the entire month of June.
Just kidding.
(Here's the link to Vegan Action, a pretty badass site.)
I haven't broken through the plant only dietary restriction finish line yet, though I have the feeling I will tomorrow with something as seemingly benign as my still beloved and dearly missed French Vanilla CoffeeMate. The conclusion I've come to, if I can be pompous enough to pretend that I've come to any conclusion from this experiment, is that food, in this societies, serves a much more varied list of functions than in other places in the world. While some cultures break bread to share in tradition or, you know, not starve, here in America (or maybe I should say in a predominately educated, largely white, mid-sized city such as Portland) a diet becomes a fashion statement, a political remark, and an accessory.
I will admit that it was fun at times to have been contrary and difficult when it came to food choices these past few weeks, and usually this was due more in part to the company I was in, or the level of attractiveness that the waiter or waitress possessed. But because the decision to cut out animal products stemmed mainly from a desire to step up my game when it came to talking shit while thrift store shopping or waiting in line for a Diet Coke at some hipster-filled bar, I learned the details regarding the various avenues that led "natural" vegans to their path only after I started to play Jenga with my own personal food pyramid. This means that I did get an education along with that Whole Foods 365 White Corn chip on my shoulder.
For example, I wouldn't have known that calves to be used as veal have their movement wholly restricted by neck shackles, or that a chicken slaughter line can decimate up to 8,400 chickens per hour, if I had simply scoffed at my roommate's revulsion towards chicken flavored ramen or my well-coiffed friend‘s pallor when seeing veal upon a local restaurant menu. I wouldn't have felt such serious adoration and respect for chef Brian Hill, the staff at Food Fight grocery, or John Janulis who co-owns the Bye and Bye, if I didn‘t know how fucking difficult it is to find vegan gum or that purchasing vegan lip balm is pretty much as easy as acquiring a PhD in acquired physics. I would have judged vegans with a broad, and yet ignorant, brushstroke. And, sure, the skinny-jeans wearing masses who seem to embrace a dietary restriction simply to stand out from the omnivorous (and mainly less privileged) global population will still my wrath and hear my venomous snorts at the checkout counter of New Seasons. But I've learned that sometimes the function of privilege, education, and the luxury of not dying from malnutrition can be used towards making a statement that all living things are equal. It’s the application of our dumb dietary luck of being born in this country that can illustrate the unfortunate fact that ignorance to the ridiculous bounty we’re able to access every day breeds the problem. If every person, and every vegan, used their brains along with their mouths we might be able to slowly devour the system that leads to cruelty, consumerism without compassion, and over-consumption in the first place.
I still have a lot to say on the topic of food as a means of giving comfort, but I’ll save that for another day. I ate a burrito this evening that fell so heavily in my stomach, they could have felt Anaheim chili aftershocks as far away as Klamath Falls. Vegan food comas are as exhausting as their sinew strewn nemeses.
Stay tuned for my next culinary adventure, where I only eat black pudding for the entire month of June.
Just kidding.
(Here's the link to Vegan Action, a pretty badass site.)
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Veganism Is Truly, Truly, Truly Outrageous
The other day I received a Twitter direct message from someone who who wanted to feed me. I suggested coffee because I am filled with an ungodly amount of pride.
Eva Darling is kind of like a cartoon character that got bored with all the sparkles and zany sound-effects so she decided to step out of the 2D world and into ours. She’s as fun to stare at as an episode of Jem! and conversations with her make you feel like you’ve gotten into a tickle-fight. Her real name is Eva Darling. In brief, she didn’t have to feed me to make me like her.
But she did. And oh, how she did. My plan to meet up at a coffee shop and discuss her vegetarianism and thereby avoid any sort of soup kitchen-esque handout backfired. Eva showed up with a woven tote bag boasting, poorly translated from Chinese, “Alternative Living: No more killing Be healthy and loving.” (It also had a cartoon hen saying, “We Pray for You.” No joke.) Inside of the bag was a jar of carrot apple curry soup, homemade tofu jerky, wakame seaweed salad, a bag of Have’A corn chips, Seitenbacher Veggie-Burger-Mix #2, Dave’s Killer Bread Peace Bomb, a Bumble bar, Seitenbacher Vampire’s Lunch, and a mango the size of my ego. There were also hot pink hair extensions, but I think they’re both inedible and probably not vegan.
I will start by saying that the soup was hands down the best soup I have ever consumed. Better than the (vegan) spinach wonton soup from gobo in New York. Better than Amy’s (vegan) organic alphabet soup. Better than my mother’s chicken noodle. (Sorry, mom.) Eva’s soup kicked all soups asses and knocked them out cold. In fact, I ate it cold, out of the little jar she’d packed it in. Scroll to the bottom of this posting for the recipe.
I first had Dave’s Killer Bread at Paradox Café, a vegan diner down the block from my house. Dave’s loaves look like bird food but taste like heaven. The Peace Bomb, which I guess is a hippie’s version of a baguette, was just as good as Dave’s Good Seed bread, though all bread products, when toasted, make me crave eggs over easy or turkey with honey mustard. Don’t judge me for my barbaric cravings, I’m just being honest. Cigarettes are gross and the tobacco industry is inherently evil, but that doesn’t mean that once you quit smoking you stop craving a nic fix. Same goes for animal products. "Come to where the flavor is..."
The mango proved to be a bit of a physical challenge, only because I couldn’t figure out how to approach it, as I had never before been in the presence of a mango that large. My roommate (not the vegan one) washed dishes while eying me with trepidation as I took the largest knife from the drawer and approached the fruit like Annie Wilkes to Paul Sheldon. It then quickly evolved into a scene from the cutting room floor of 9 ½ Weeks, where I basically was up to my elbows in mango pulp and juice, grinning in a way that I think was only rivaled in the back seat of a Jeep back in 1998. “You look like one of those little monkeys eating that, one of those little monkeys with the fire-red asses,” the non-vegan roommate said. And with that he vacated the kitchen, leaving me, my butcher knife, and Eva’s darling mango to make bliss among the clean dishes.
The tofu jerky and the wakame salad were both snacks that remedied my usual mid-afternoon salt-n-sweet craving when washed down with some diet soda. Tonight I’m going to try to make the veggie burgers as well as figure out why they’re number two. (Eva’s guess, “Veggie-Burger-Mix #1 was recalled because it made everyone who ate it grow dreadlocks and buy VW busses.”) I’m saving the Vampire’s Lunch (“Gummi Fruits Made With Real Fruit Juice”) and the chips for a night when I’ll make Eva guacamole and then clean her entire apartment, wash her sexy van, and launder, iron, and fold her whole wardrobe out of gratitude. If being vegan means getting food like this from girls like that then I will subscribe to “Alternative Living” permanently.
Big thanks to Eva Darling, who allowed me to smear my adoration for her all over this blog and providing the recipe for the soup to end all soups:Recipe for Curried Carrot Apple Soup
2T olive or coconut oil
1 onion, chopped
5 med sized carrots, cut into chunks
1 clove minced garlic
1 apple, peeled, cored, cut into chunks
2 med sized potatoes, peeled, cut into chunks
1t fresh ginger, peeled & minced
2T curry powder
5 cups water or stock
1/2 lemon, juiced
Salt & pepper to taste
In soup pot, heat oil on medium heat. Add onion and cook for 3 minutes. Add everything else except lemon juice and water/stock. Com until carrots are bright orange and spices become aromatic. Add water/stock and bring to a boil. Cook until veggies are soft. Purée with a blender. Add lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste. Adjust consistency with water/stock. Serve!
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Or Like I Swallowed A (Nautical) Throwing Star
First of all, I must share that I have chewed lemon gum and it is bad. However, lemon gum (named something irritatingly enthusiastic such as Lemon Zing! or Lemon Blast! or Lemon Dude You're Harshing My Mellow) was the only Wrigley's brand gum up at the corner store in NoPo. So vegan lemon misnomer gum it was.
I know this is a case of WPP*. For what it's worth, I'm aware.
Also, I skated to Whole Foods tonight in the hope of eating something halfway decent after making a few dollars by assisting a friend of mine with a casting. I figured that I should celebrate the weekend and my second month's sobriety with something delicious and vegan that would make me feel like I'm giving back to the world and supporting good logo design.
The total? $6.19. The items: one (1) can of organic refried pinto beans and three (3) apples.
I am not kidding.
Now, before y'all get to thinking that I'm a whiny girl who just likes to complain -- which I am, really -- I will say in my defense that I have been shopping at tiny markets and independent vendors as per the wholly appreciated suggestions of some of you. But it was nice out and I wanted to ride around a bit. Then I realized it was nearly ten and I was lost and...With fifteen minutes before the shop closed I had to just grab what I could and get out, there was no extra time to be wasted pondering the brand of hummus or if I had enough cash for granola. I hate subjecting clerks to an extra ten minutes of waiting around for douchebag shoppers to finish up, so I pretended I was in Supermarket Sweep and got the hell out.
Then there's the issue of my stomach. It hurts. And not in the normal Void Where Prohibited sort of way, or in the way that would make me a good body double for an Exorcist revival, no. We're talking the kind of hurt that has only been rivalled by that afternoon in the fourth grade when Jonathan Peltzer punched me in the stomach 'cause he thought I stole the kickball. (It was in the bushes, wasn't it, jackass?) It's like a piranha in a plastic bag. It's like every hipster cliche and overused iconic image (ninja, narwhal, unicorn, pirate, Beirut) were all thrown into a cage match located where my diaphragm and colon should be. I eat because my brain calculates that I should. Then it hurts more. Then it hurts less. And by that time the brain calculator is tallying up the hours saying, "It's called breakfast, fucker." So apples, which I adore eating and therefore are worth any pain, and refried beans, which taste like paste and make me feel full and are usually cheap and can be used in the preparation of burritos, seemed like wise choices. Untrue. Now I see why even Mercedes driving, Chanel wearing yacht club patrons refer to the Whole Foods on Long Island as "Whole Paycheck." (Insert lock-jawed laughter through a Botoxed gob here.) I don't have a paycheck. But apparently I have a new hole in the form of an ulcer.
Later, far from the Whole Highway Robbery, a couple spoke to me in impassioned tones about the benefits of farming your own vegetables here in Portland. They gave me the names of two books and instructed me about what I should start out trying to not kill (fava beans, carrots, and basil.) Considering that I'm the girl who murdered a cactus that was bought at Ikea, I bet that if I attempt to use a green thumb to thumb my nose at vegans the potential for comedy and embarrassment is high.
One member of this couple also told me that when he was a vegetarian, he was coerced into tasting pork-laden canapes and other meaty bites for his old job as a server for a hoity-toity restaurant in California. He immediately started having nightmares about pigs talking to him. The pigs would be standing on their hind legs chatting him up, confronting him about his recent meanderings off of the path, and then they would turn around and expose their bloody, mauled ribcages. He had night-terrors over his food choices. Last night I had a dream that I was descending an unending flight of stairs while using an umbrella to shield me from a downpour of soybeans. Can't quite tell what it means, other than that I should try drinking some warm soymilk before bedtime.
I have a week of this month left. If anyone wants to take me out for my first non-vegan meal on May 1st, I'm game. Just be creative and let me know what you think we should ingest. And, yes, I'll probably blog about it.
* White People's Problems
I know this is a case of WPP*. For what it's worth, I'm aware.
Also, I skated to Whole Foods tonight in the hope of eating something halfway decent after making a few dollars by assisting a friend of mine with a casting. I figured that I should celebrate the weekend and my second month's sobriety with something delicious and vegan that would make me feel like I'm giving back to the world and supporting good logo design.
The total? $6.19. The items: one (1) can of organic refried pinto beans and three (3) apples.
I am not kidding.
Now, before y'all get to thinking that I'm a whiny girl who just likes to complain -- which I am, really -- I will say in my defense that I have been shopping at tiny markets and independent vendors as per the wholly appreciated suggestions of some of you. But it was nice out and I wanted to ride around a bit. Then I realized it was nearly ten and I was lost and...With fifteen minutes before the shop closed I had to just grab what I could and get out, there was no extra time to be wasted pondering the brand of hummus or if I had enough cash for granola. I hate subjecting clerks to an extra ten minutes of waiting around for douchebag shoppers to finish up, so I pretended I was in Supermarket Sweep and got the hell out.
Then there's the issue of my stomach. It hurts. And not in the normal Void Where Prohibited sort of way, or in the way that would make me a good body double for an Exorcist revival, no. We're talking the kind of hurt that has only been rivalled by that afternoon in the fourth grade when Jonathan Peltzer punched me in the stomach 'cause he thought I stole the kickball. (It was in the bushes, wasn't it, jackass?) It's like a piranha in a plastic bag. It's like every hipster cliche and overused iconic image (ninja, narwhal, unicorn, pirate, Beirut) were all thrown into a cage match located where my diaphragm and colon should be. I eat because my brain calculates that I should. Then it hurts more. Then it hurts less. And by that time the brain calculator is tallying up the hours saying, "It's called breakfast, fucker." So apples, which I adore eating and therefore are worth any pain, and refried beans, which taste like paste and make me feel full and are usually cheap and can be used in the preparation of burritos, seemed like wise choices. Untrue. Now I see why even Mercedes driving, Chanel wearing yacht club patrons refer to the Whole Foods on Long Island as "Whole Paycheck." (Insert lock-jawed laughter through a Botoxed gob here.) I don't have a paycheck. But apparently I have a new hole in the form of an ulcer.
Later, far from the Whole Highway Robbery, a couple spoke to me in impassioned tones about the benefits of farming your own vegetables here in Portland. They gave me the names of two books and instructed me about what I should start out trying to not kill (fava beans, carrots, and basil.) Considering that I'm the girl who murdered a cactus that was bought at Ikea, I bet that if I attempt to use a green thumb to thumb my nose at vegans the potential for comedy and embarrassment is high.
One member of this couple also told me that when he was a vegetarian, he was coerced into tasting pork-laden canapes and other meaty bites for his old job as a server for a hoity-toity restaurant in California. He immediately started having nightmares about pigs talking to him. The pigs would be standing on their hind legs chatting him up, confronting him about his recent meanderings off of the path, and then they would turn around and expose their bloody, mauled ribcages. He had night-terrors over his food choices. Last night I had a dream that I was descending an unending flight of stairs while using an umbrella to shield me from a downpour of soybeans. Can't quite tell what it means, other than that I should try drinking some warm soymilk before bedtime.
I have a week of this month left. If anyone wants to take me out for my first non-vegan meal on May 1st, I'm game. Just be creative and let me know what you think we should ingest. And, yes, I'll probably blog about it.
* White People's Problems
Friday, April 25, 2008
"Irritatingly Vegan"
The following is an actual conversation between me and my friend Danielle who lives in New York.
Dani and I were in the same class in the screenwriting department at NYU Tisch, back in 1999 when we were young and hungry. Now she’s employed and living the diploma-born dream in the big city while I have more crows’ feet and the same dress size that I had way back when, only without any extra junk in the trunk from stolen bottles of Zima and late night pancake runs to the Waverly Diner. Our friendship - cultivated through East Coast cynicism and biting wit - has prevailed.
Oh, I should add, Danielle is an omnivore.
Dani: Hey, I ate at a vegan restaurant last night. Moby's place
Ainsley: Teany? Did you like it?
Dani: Yeah, Teany. Yeah, it was great.
Ainsley: What did you eat?
Dani: I had mac and cheese with bacon, soy bacon. I’m actually not sure if some things are vegetarian and others vegan. Like maybe my cheese was real, but I’m not sure.
Ainsley: Ok. Ok, this is good. This is research. What were the outward signs that it was vegan? And why did you eat there?
Dani: Outward signs? Skinny model types smoking outside. And a spaceship. I don't know. I ate there 'cause my friend told me it was really good and another guy at work's girlfriend told me the same thing. They're both vegetarians. I also wanted a cupcake from Babycakes and it’s right near there so I thought it would be a good plan. It was a whole wholesome night.
Ainsley: Yeah, being vegan's good for you. When you're not only eating canned refried beans and Cream of Wheat, hold the cream.
Dani: You‘re not vegan, you‘re crazy with an anorexic wallet. We ended up having red velvet cake at Moby's. Babycakes was closed when we got there.
Ainsley: How was the red velvet? (Is velvet a vegan material?) Vegan cake is usually good, especially if it's made by tattooed boys who restore classic cars. Yum.
Dani: It was ok, but not as good as Babycakes. It had that slightly stale quality. Like paste.
Ainsley: Oh. the moisture issue. Yeah.
Dani: I really liked eating there. If vegan was made that easy for me all the time I’d do it. I think it's noble, I just don’t have the patience, time, energy, money, what-have-you. They also had good drinks. And the place is comfortable and not irritatingly vegan like most places I’ve been. The people are not obnoxious.
Ainsley: What constitutes irritatingly vegan? I know irritating vegans, but irritatingly vegan? What do you mean?
Dani: I don't know, I can't put my finger on it exactly. For example, there's a place in my hood called Quantum Leap...
Ainsley: Ah, Scott Bakula. That's one small step for an herbivore, but one giant leap for a cattle rancher...
Dani: ...Which is your typical West Village vegan/vegetarian joint. It is awful. Only people who really can't eat normal food will eat there. And the waiters are weird.
Ainsley: What do you mean by weird?
Dani: I could do impressions of them if I were in person. Like, one of them wears a floppy hat and gets right up in your face every time she has to ask you something. If you ask her a question she looks upward for so long it looks like she is getting the answer out of her hat. And she talks really low and whispery, which is I guess why she needs to be up in your face.
Ainsley: Wow.
Dani: I keep trying to shout at her before she actually gets to the table.
Ainsley: Maybe she's hearing impaired or something.
Dani: Also, the places are usually grimy and Moby's is fresh and sparkly. It doesn't look like they are shunning all things yummy inside. And there are bottles of "Seventh Generation" cleaner everywhere, which I liked. I like knowing that the restaurant I'm eating in gets cleaned every now and then.
Ainsley: He showed you the cleaner? Was Moby there plugging his new album or saving the pandas?
Dani: No, it was just out on the counter. And, no, Moby wasn’t there but it kind of makes you feel like you’re seeing Moby without actually seeing him. Moby imitators everywhere or something. It's Mobyesque. Simple, new age, bald, shiny.
Ainsley: Somewhat pretentious yet simultaneously irresistible. Lucky. God, I miss New York. Hey, can I write about this?
Dani: I'll give you all my memories and you can claim them because I am not writing a vegan blog.
Ainsley: You mean you're not starving in the name of art. You're just making money and eating a vegan meal and not documenting your slow descent into a duodenal ulcer.
Dani: Something like that.
Ainsley: Thanks.
Dani: Also what was cool, I wanted a regular lemonade and they only had all these lavender lemonades and whatnot. So I asked for one and the waiter said he would try to make it for me and wouldn’t charge me.
Ainsley: Lavender. The stuff my mom puts in her underwear drawer to make sure the moths don't eat her skivvies.
Dani: Yeah, I didn't want that. I wanted regular lemonade...
Ainsley: Lemonade flavored lemonade.
Dani: …So the waiter tried to make it for me and it tasted great, very natural. So cute. The place is also pretty cheap, about $10 to $12 for an entree.
Ainsley: That's about how much I'd expect it to be. Got to fund the synthesizers.
Dani: I wonder how they make soy bacon.
Ainsley: Soy pigs.
Dani: Like, how many ingredients does it take to achieve the flavor of bacon without bacon? That can't be healthy. But they couldn't do the dish without the not-bacon-bacon, which is interesting. If you're a vegetarian you expect to go to a regular restaurant and get your dish sans bacon, but if you are a meat-eater and don't want fake bacon, you can't get it without.
Ainsley: Bacon’s gross anyway.
Dani: Can you picture people sitting up there with different bottles mixing together going, "Taste like bacon yet?" Like, there are people in white coats standing around with test tubes in some secret testing facility or something. "Is it lemon plus guarana plus wheat plus leaves...?"
Ainsley: And Moby with a mortar and pestle. Maybe the magic ingredients are, like, crushed walrus tusks. And mermaid scales. Or just salt.
Dani: It's funny you mention that. I felt healthy when I left except my fingers were swollen. There must have been a lot of salt.
Ainsley: Yikes.
Dani: Yeah. like a bowl of nachos and giant margarita's worth. I get that sometimes, usually after I eat Chinese food. There are two restaurants here where I know I can eat the vegan food and be ok.
Ainsley: The vegan food?
Dani: Yeah. The vegan food. I can eat it and be fine, but only at these two places.
Ainsley: And by fine you mean not swell?
Dani: No, I mean, like feel one-hundred percent healthy after. I guess you never know what's in some of that stuff. Do you think it's because you they generally put too much other crap in it to make it taste good?
Ainsley: I think they put too much crap in to make it taste like other crap.
Dani: Yes. well if they're going to be putting that much crap in it, I might as well stick to my usual crap that tastes better.
Ainsley: I think I'm irritatingly vegan. To my colon.
Dani: Probably.
Dani and I were in the same class in the screenwriting department at NYU Tisch, back in 1999 when we were young and hungry. Now she’s employed and living the diploma-born dream in the big city while I have more crows’ feet and the same dress size that I had way back when, only without any extra junk in the trunk from stolen bottles of Zima and late night pancake runs to the Waverly Diner. Our friendship - cultivated through East Coast cynicism and biting wit - has prevailed.
Oh, I should add, Danielle is an omnivore.
* * * *
Dani: Hey, I ate at a vegan restaurant last night. Moby's place
Ainsley: Teany? Did you like it?
Dani: Yeah, Teany. Yeah, it was great.
Ainsley: What did you eat?
Dani: I had mac and cheese with bacon, soy bacon. I’m actually not sure if some things are vegetarian and others vegan. Like maybe my cheese was real, but I’m not sure.
Ainsley: Ok. Ok, this is good. This is research. What were the outward signs that it was vegan? And why did you eat there?
Dani: Outward signs? Skinny model types smoking outside. And a spaceship. I don't know. I ate there 'cause my friend told me it was really good and another guy at work's girlfriend told me the same thing. They're both vegetarians. I also wanted a cupcake from Babycakes and it’s right near there so I thought it would be a good plan. It was a whole wholesome night.
Ainsley: Yeah, being vegan's good for you. When you're not only eating canned refried beans and Cream of Wheat, hold the cream.
Dani: You‘re not vegan, you‘re crazy with an anorexic wallet. We ended up having red velvet cake at Moby's. Babycakes was closed when we got there.
Ainsley: How was the red velvet? (Is velvet a vegan material?) Vegan cake is usually good, especially if it's made by tattooed boys who restore classic cars. Yum.
Dani: It was ok, but not as good as Babycakes. It had that slightly stale quality. Like paste.
Ainsley: Oh. the moisture issue. Yeah.
Dani: I really liked eating there. If vegan was made that easy for me all the time I’d do it. I think it's noble, I just don’t have the patience, time, energy, money, what-have-you. They also had good drinks. And the place is comfortable and not irritatingly vegan like most places I’ve been. The people are not obnoxious.
Ainsley: What constitutes irritatingly vegan? I know irritating vegans, but irritatingly vegan? What do you mean?
Dani: I don't know, I can't put my finger on it exactly. For example, there's a place in my hood called Quantum Leap...
Ainsley: Ah, Scott Bakula. That's one small step for an herbivore, but one giant leap for a cattle rancher...
Dani: ...Which is your typical West Village vegan/vegetarian joint. It is awful. Only people who really can't eat normal food will eat there. And the waiters are weird.
Ainsley: What do you mean by weird?
Dani: I could do impressions of them if I were in person. Like, one of them wears a floppy hat and gets right up in your face every time she has to ask you something. If you ask her a question she looks upward for so long it looks like she is getting the answer out of her hat. And she talks really low and whispery, which is I guess why she needs to be up in your face.
Ainsley: Wow.
Dani: I keep trying to shout at her before she actually gets to the table.
Ainsley: Maybe she's hearing impaired or something.
Dani: Also, the places are usually grimy and Moby's is fresh and sparkly. It doesn't look like they are shunning all things yummy inside. And there are bottles of "Seventh Generation" cleaner everywhere, which I liked. I like knowing that the restaurant I'm eating in gets cleaned every now and then.
Ainsley: He showed you the cleaner? Was Moby there plugging his new album or saving the pandas?
Dani: No, it was just out on the counter. And, no, Moby wasn’t there but it kind of makes you feel like you’re seeing Moby without actually seeing him. Moby imitators everywhere or something. It's Mobyesque. Simple, new age, bald, shiny.
Ainsley: Somewhat pretentious yet simultaneously irresistible. Lucky. God, I miss New York. Hey, can I write about this?
Dani: I'll give you all my memories and you can claim them because I am not writing a vegan blog.
Ainsley: You mean you're not starving in the name of art. You're just making money and eating a vegan meal and not documenting your slow descent into a duodenal ulcer.
Dani: Something like that.
Ainsley: Thanks.
Dani: Also what was cool, I wanted a regular lemonade and they only had all these lavender lemonades and whatnot. So I asked for one and the waiter said he would try to make it for me and wouldn’t charge me.
Ainsley: Lavender. The stuff my mom puts in her underwear drawer to make sure the moths don't eat her skivvies.
Dani: Yeah, I didn't want that. I wanted regular lemonade...
Ainsley: Lemonade flavored lemonade.
Dani: …So the waiter tried to make it for me and it tasted great, very natural. So cute. The place is also pretty cheap, about $10 to $12 for an entree.
Ainsley: That's about how much I'd expect it to be. Got to fund the synthesizers.
Dani: I wonder how they make soy bacon.
Ainsley: Soy pigs.
Dani: Like, how many ingredients does it take to achieve the flavor of bacon without bacon? That can't be healthy. But they couldn't do the dish without the not-bacon-bacon, which is interesting. If you're a vegetarian you expect to go to a regular restaurant and get your dish sans bacon, but if you are a meat-eater and don't want fake bacon, you can't get it without.
Ainsley: Bacon’s gross anyway.
Dani: Can you picture people sitting up there with different bottles mixing together going, "Taste like bacon yet?" Like, there are people in white coats standing around with test tubes in some secret testing facility or something. "Is it lemon plus guarana plus wheat plus leaves...?"
Ainsley: And Moby with a mortar and pestle. Maybe the magic ingredients are, like, crushed walrus tusks. And mermaid scales. Or just salt.
Dani: It's funny you mention that. I felt healthy when I left except my fingers were swollen. There must have been a lot of salt.
Ainsley: Yikes.
Dani: Yeah. like a bowl of nachos and giant margarita's worth. I get that sometimes, usually after I eat Chinese food. There are two restaurants here where I know I can eat the vegan food and be ok.
Ainsley: The vegan food?
Dani: Yeah. The vegan food. I can eat it and be fine, but only at these two places.
Ainsley: And by fine you mean not swell?
Dani: No, I mean, like feel one-hundred percent healthy after. I guess you never know what's in some of that stuff. Do you think it's because you they generally put too much other crap in it to make it taste good?
Ainsley: I think they put too much crap in to make it taste like other crap.
Dani: Yes. well if they're going to be putting that much crap in it, I might as well stick to my usual crap that tastes better.
Ainsley: I think I'm irritatingly vegan. To my colon.
Dani: Probably.
* * * *
Teany
Quantum Leap
Babycakes
And, in case you're interested, the ingredients of soy bacon.
Quantum Leap
Babycakes
And, in case you're interested, the ingredients of soy bacon.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Symptoms Include Hunger and Frivolous Blogging
Woke up in a foul mood that was only enhanced by the business related venture to Pine State Biscuits where I could not eat a goddamn thing. I realized that I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in three to four days and that I basically feel achy, crankier than usual, and kind of like I’m being perpetually held underwater. It’s uncomfortable. For me and everyone around me.
I'm not saying that any of this has to do with being vegan but the fact that my diet has been reduced to canned beans, Corn Flakes, and soy milk for almost a week now is the only change to my lifestyle that I could identify.
Let me make it clear that veganism and financial strife are equal culprits here. Consider them partners in crime, crimes against my personal sense of humanity.
Being a natural born complainer, an avid worrier, and a bit of a hypochondriac, I went to the greatest source for medical information and personal evaluation that I could think of, WebMD’s Symptom Checker application.
Over the years that I've used this nifty tool I’ve had Gout, lumbar spinal stenosis, and bipolar disorder, all of which have magically cleared up. I figured that these days my symptoms are more “general” than specific to any one (or eight) parts of my body so I clicked on the provided list as follows:
Gender, female. Age, 25-34.
General Symptoms:
Body aches or pains
Coarse hair (I did dye it recently but I noticed that texturally it’s been a little different and visually it’s been more unsightly than I‘m comfortable with.)
Dislikes change in daily routine (This is a persistent symptom.)
Distorted body image (Half the time I think I look like Beth Ditto, the other half the time I think I look like a prepubescent boy. One of these images is incorrect. Or both.)
Dizziness
Easy bruising
Excessive crying (I wanted to ask what they meant by “Excessive” but for simplicity’s sake I just clicked it.)
Fatigue
Fearful (This is what the ATM says when I ask for a balance inquiry. WebMD should also have a symptom option for “Fucking Broke As a Joke.”)
Feeling faint
Food cravings
Hunger
Inability to care for self (Again, a persistent symptom.)
Joint aches
Poor personal hygiene (I wanted to chose this only because of the hair issue. And the clothes from high-school that I’m still wearing. And the fact that I’ve been “borrowing” my roomates’ soap, razors, Q-Tips, and body lotion that smells like a man wearing cologne in a pine forest. Delightful to the senses, especially since all feminine smelling products, at this point, make me want to eat them. Anyway, I didn‘t select this symptom. No “real“ vegan would.)
Reduced productivity at work (“Reduced work where productivity might be present or compromised” is the technical symptom but whatever.)
Restlessness and irritability
Restrictive dieting (Yes.)
Short attention span
Short stature (This was an option I didn’t click on because I’ve had it forever but I thought it was a funny optional symptom just the same.)
Socially withdrawn
Now here was a tricky one: Weight loss (intentional) followed by the option of Weight loss (unintentional)
I only know I’ve lost weight because my belt now requires an additional notch and because I actually like the way I look naked. I chose the later, though, because the purpose of going vegan wasn’t to look like a high-school cheerleader. Then WebMD asked me another little riddle: Was this weight loss Sudden, Gradual, or I Don’t Know. I chose “I Don’t Know.”
The list of possible diagnoses was extensive. I could be suffering from any number of conditions, including but not limited to depression; PMS; exercise or physical activity which I did not realize were medical conditions; flu; malnutrition; bulimia (the oral intake has been minimal but the exporting has been nil, therefore I don‘t think this is something for me to worry about); dementia associated with a head injury; MS; Lyme disease; anxiety; and my personal favorite, syphilis.
Other possible menu options included “Acute stress reaction” and the phenomenally scary Sarcoidosis.
According to WebMD’s Acute Stress Reaction: Symptoms and Treatment page
“We all find ways of coping with stress. Coping mechanisms may or may not be effective or harmless.
Positive coping responses:
Listening to music
Playing with a pet
Laughing or crying
Going out with a friend (shopping, movie, dining)
Taking a bath or shower
Writing, painting, or other creative activity
Praying or going to church
Exercising or getting outdoors to enjoy nature
Discussing situations with a spouse or close friend
Gardening or making home repairs
Practicing deep breathing, meditation, or muscle relaxation
Negative coping responses:
Criticizing yourself (negative self-talk)
Driving fast in a car
Chewing your fingernails
Becoming aggressive or violent (hitting someone, throwing or kicking)
I would like a coping mechanism that doesn’t include things I do not have (ie, money, a car, a bathtub, religion) and yet is not harmful to animals, people, or vegans.
I would also like to know if any of my symptoms could be attributed to skateboarding, caffeine intake, and abject poverty? My assumption is yes, but I’m no licensed scientician.
I'm not saying that any of this has to do with being vegan but the fact that my diet has been reduced to canned beans, Corn Flakes, and soy milk for almost a week now is the only change to my lifestyle that I could identify.
Let me make it clear that veganism and financial strife are equal culprits here. Consider them partners in crime, crimes against my personal sense of humanity.
Being a natural born complainer, an avid worrier, and a bit of a hypochondriac, I went to the greatest source for medical information and personal evaluation that I could think of, WebMD’s Symptom Checker application.
Over the years that I've used this nifty tool I’ve had Gout, lumbar spinal stenosis, and bipolar disorder, all of which have magically cleared up. I figured that these days my symptoms are more “general” than specific to any one (or eight) parts of my body so I clicked on the provided list as follows:
Gender, female. Age, 25-34.
General Symptoms:
Body aches or pains
Coarse hair (I did dye it recently but I noticed that texturally it’s been a little different and visually it’s been more unsightly than I‘m comfortable with.)
Dislikes change in daily routine (This is a persistent symptom.)
Distorted body image (Half the time I think I look like Beth Ditto, the other half the time I think I look like a prepubescent boy. One of these images is incorrect. Or both.)
Dizziness
Easy bruising
Excessive crying (I wanted to ask what they meant by “Excessive” but for simplicity’s sake I just clicked it.)
Fatigue
Fearful (This is what the ATM says when I ask for a balance inquiry. WebMD should also have a symptom option for “Fucking Broke As a Joke.”)
Feeling faint
Food cravings
Hunger
Inability to care for self (Again, a persistent symptom.)
Joint aches
Poor personal hygiene (I wanted to chose this only because of the hair issue. And the clothes from high-school that I’m still wearing. And the fact that I’ve been “borrowing” my roomates’ soap, razors, Q-Tips, and body lotion that smells like a man wearing cologne in a pine forest. Delightful to the senses, especially since all feminine smelling products, at this point, make me want to eat them. Anyway, I didn‘t select this symptom. No “real“ vegan would.)
Reduced productivity at work (“Reduced work where productivity might be present or compromised” is the technical symptom but whatever.)
Restlessness and irritability
Restrictive dieting (Yes.)
Short attention span
Short stature (This was an option I didn’t click on because I’ve had it forever but I thought it was a funny optional symptom just the same.)
Socially withdrawn
Now here was a tricky one: Weight loss (intentional) followed by the option of Weight loss (unintentional)
I only know I’ve lost weight because my belt now requires an additional notch and because I actually like the way I look naked. I chose the later, though, because the purpose of going vegan wasn’t to look like a high-school cheerleader. Then WebMD asked me another little riddle: Was this weight loss Sudden, Gradual, or I Don’t Know. I chose “I Don’t Know.”
The list of possible diagnoses was extensive. I could be suffering from any number of conditions, including but not limited to depression; PMS; exercise or physical activity which I did not realize were medical conditions; flu; malnutrition; bulimia (the oral intake has been minimal but the exporting has been nil, therefore I don‘t think this is something for me to worry about); dementia associated with a head injury; MS; Lyme disease; anxiety; and my personal favorite, syphilis.
Other possible menu options included “Acute stress reaction” and the phenomenally scary Sarcoidosis.
According to WebMD’s Acute Stress Reaction: Symptoms and Treatment page
“We all find ways of coping with stress. Coping mechanisms may or may not be effective or harmless.
Positive coping responses:
Listening to music
Playing with a pet
Laughing or crying
Going out with a friend (shopping, movie, dining)
Taking a bath or shower
Writing, painting, or other creative activity
Praying or going to church
Exercising or getting outdoors to enjoy nature
Discussing situations with a spouse or close friend
Gardening or making home repairs
Practicing deep breathing, meditation, or muscle relaxation
Negative coping responses:
Criticizing yourself (negative self-talk)
Driving fast in a car
Chewing your fingernails
Becoming aggressive or violent (hitting someone, throwing or kicking)
I would like a coping mechanism that doesn’t include things I do not have (ie, money, a car, a bathtub, religion) and yet is not harmful to animals, people, or vegans.
I would also like to know if any of my symptoms could be attributed to skateboarding, caffeine intake, and abject poverty? My assumption is yes, but I’m no licensed scientician.
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