The health food coverup of the century: banana chips can KILL YOU. March 17, 2006

Let me start the story of an alarming discovery I’ve made by going back a week or so, to my last Trader Joe’s visit. I was cruising through the aisles, fast, because no matter what time you go to that store there’s always a million people and I wanted to get my stuff and get out before I had a chance to think homicidal thoughts toward the person blocking the soup section. Also I had a cart full of frozen pizzas and fish, so it was all basically a race against time anyway. I was in the section by the nuts, scanning the shelves for anything I needed, dried cranberries-yes, what else what else … and I see a bag of banana chips. Cheap, too, for a big bag. “I don’t get enough servings of fruit,” I thought to myself. “When I buy it, it ends up going bad because I don’t eat it fast enough. Banana chips? Cannot go bad.” So I threw them into my cart. If only I knew then what I knew now, the bag probably would have travelled through the air in slow motion as creepy organ music of doom played in my ear.

Fast forward to today, where I have made the choice to eat some healthful banana chips rather than a chocolate peanut butter granola bar, and I happened to turn over the bag to see how much good the banana chips were doing for my body. Well, guess what? They’re not doing ANY good. They’re actually clogging my arteries. One ounce=48% of my saturated fat for the day. Because according to the ingredient list, they are apparently soaked in coconut oil. And there aren’t any vitamins in them. NONE. The only vaguely positive thing listed is fiber. 4% of my daily allowance. So basically, I’m eating chips of FAT whose sole contribution to my health is that they’ll make me 4% regular. Does anyone realize this? Why are banana chips included in healthy-type snacks like trail mix? Why are they in the aisle next to actual healthy snacks like dried apricots when they should be next to, say, bacon?

Maybe this was common knowledge to most people, and I’ve just been oblivious to this imposter food that has been sitting in my cabinet waiting to kill me. They don’t even taste very good, and are sort of gross if you think about it. Now that I know that they’re also a waste of the energy it takes to eat them, not to mention artery-clogging, I feel like I need to get the word out. Hence this post. Go, spread the news of this silent killer.

Now, could someone please tell me why I can’t stop eating them?

full circle March 11, 2006

Let me ask you something.  What are the odds that, a week after I pick up the guitar for the first time in months and learn the song ‘Save Me’ by Aimee Mann, I would be seated like five seats away from her and her husband at a comedy show?  I also recently wrote a post in which she made the list of people I need to see in concert before I die.  What is up?  Maybe my guitar is magic.  I think I’ll learn a song by Bob Dylan next and then we’ll see what’s what.

Things I could have said last night but didn’t: Nice to meet you, Joss Whedon. March 10, 2006

So, look, I don’t really have a good history with meeting famous people. And when I say famous people, I mean that in the most marginal sense. If you don’t know the story from the Survivor: Pearl Islands after-party, email me, because it’s hilarious and painful. And stupid. I mean, you’re talking to the girl who actually gave the two core members of her favorite band a double thumbs up. Add to that the fact that I’m shy–I don’t really enjoy interrupting anyone’s conversation, let alone a celebrity, especially when I know there’s a looming (and very real) possibility I will make a fool of myself.

But, last night I went to my first ever movie premiere. It was for this movie. You can tell by the fact that I was there that it was the movie event of the year. Highly glamorous, tons of A-listers, paparazzi everywhere … or perhaps just the opposite of that. There were a few people there that it was cool to see, mostly actors that would make a Firefly fan pee their pants. And in the lobby of the theatre afterwards, I was literally standing directly behind The God of Geeks Everywhere, one Mr. Joss Whedon. My friends and I were joking that we should just reach out and touch his jacket, and he would feel the power go out of him and turn around quickly like, “Who touched me?” Later we were standing near him at the after-party as well. Did I say, “Hi, I’m a big fan of your work … can I just shake your hand?” or something similarly easy and brief? No. No, I did not.

I have a lot of problems with the cult of celebrity, and now that I live in LA those feelings have only intensified. Maybe sometime I will write an insightful, inspired think-post detailing my opinions on that matter. But Joss Whedon is not a celebrity. A very specific segment of society may view him as such, but most of America couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. However: he’s a successful writer. He created Buffy. He’s cool, man.

But knowing my track record, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop at the ‘nice to meet you, enjoy your evening’; I’m guessing maybe a high-five would be involved, or else I would have blurted out, “So, Wonder Woman next, eh? That’s neat.” or something equally lame. But who cares? Why am I so worried about saying something dumb? God knows he’s probably used to it.

I think what I need to lose my fear is a normal, gaffe-free encounter with someone famous. So, Jeff Probst? Celebrity I see most often? Next time I see you in Ralph’s, you better be prepared to have the wittiest conversation you’ve ever had about imported cheeses. Or, more than likely, you should just be on the lookout for some tall girl to smirk and salute you as you push your cart on by.

a big glass of ‘meh’ March 7, 2006

I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older or if it’s just the way things are for this particular year of ’06, but both the Olympics and the Oscars barely registered on my Do I Give a Care? meter.  I used to watch as much of the Olympics as possible, including the opening and closing ceremonies; my history of Oscar-following is well-documented (literally … in the past I’ve made spreadsheets to assist me in making my picks for my friends’ annual contest–yeah, shut up).  This year?  mehhhhhhhhhhh.  Completely uninspired.  I maybe watched a couple of hours of the Olympics at the most, and although I watched and enjoyed parts of the Oscar ceremony, I was left pretty underwhelmed. 

Did anyone else feel this way?  Is it a casualty of aging?  Is it the beginning stages of that thing old people have where they think The Old Days were better and Young People Have Ruined Everything?  Am I becoming a curmudgeon?   Or is it just that both the Olympics and the Oscars royally sucked this year?   

 

people I need to see in concert before I die (or they do): March 4, 2006

• Aimee Mann
• Ryan Adams (only if he stops dating Lindsey Lohan)
• Gillian Welch
• U2 (again)
• Bob Dylan (again)
• Emmylou Harris
• The White Stripes
• The Innocence Mission
• Fleetwood Mac, but before they got old (this one might not be possible)

I woke up this morning thinking about this.  Why, I don’t know.