Today is my first day of a 5 day “advanced” juice cleanse from Oakland’s Uptown Juice Company. I am thus far juiceless. I’ve never been hungrier for some macerated kale. Uptown Juice says my chlorophyll is out for delivery.
For the last 3 days I’ve been pre cleansing. The only things I could eat or drink were fruits, vegetables and water. No whiskey. I realize these juice cleanses are Gooped. You’ve heard it all before.
My rich uncle bought it for me. Do you think my rich uncle thinks I’m too fat? I have gained 10 pounds since I broke me foot in April. I don’t think I’ll lose actual weight on a juice cleanse but I see it as a kick in the ass.
I’ll probably see god after a good skin brushing and some diarrhea. So there’s something to look forward too.
Update: The “Green Detox Boost” tastes like the bottom of a boat.
I’m not Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps or gymnast Alex Naddour but I experienced a sister of cupping type “massage” and did not like it one bit. I’d hurt my wing and went with a cheap but well-reviewed place on Piedmont Avenue in Oakland. Bunch of masochists those reviewers were.
I don’t believe in not gaining without paining or paying to be pummeled. If it hurts so good, please don’t do that to me. I don’t think cupping is supposed to hurt. According to cupping pioneer Gwyneth Paltrow it feels amazing. I think horrible pain is what I get for being cheap. I’ve proven that over and over again with bikini waxes.
The real message here is to stop something when it’s unbearably painful. I was also scarred by a burning stick at a so-called acupuncturist because he took my insurance. He said, “you’re supposed to say uncle.” I thought the pain was supposed to help me.
I have a cold, my foot is broken and I’m on a bowel rest diet to hopefully avoid having to take prednisone for my colitis. I’m a mess. I used to think FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) was just a stupid excuse my ex would use for never missing the newest iteration of the same party we’d gone to roughly 3 times a week for almost 2 years.
I was wrong, FOMO is how I feel right now as I pack some mashed potatoes (easy to digest) into my craw. I’m missing Books and Beer Club at Hella Vegan Eats tonight. Most of my friends are going to drink beer outside next to a graffiti mural and some multicultural families. It will be a perfect Oakland night. Later, I’m going to pack some white rice into my craw.
I hate that my happy fierce critter brain has been kicked to the curb by the overbearing beast of my body. The next round is coming and who doesn’t love an underdog? Just ask all my mother who is still feeling the Bern.
P.S. I just heard from my friend T, organizer of tonight’s club meeting.
T: And this is why I don’t plan anything
T: There’s gonna be 3 of us
T: Cuz no one else is coming 😦
Come to think of it FOMO is pretty dumb.
Today was our summer intern’s last day. We shared him with another office in Oakland’s Uptown, so we all trucked over there and ate Oaxacan food at Agave. The door is indigenous peoples meets Ikea. I though the food was just OK.
I learned a couple things from dining there, however. I thought the carnitas in my so called Oaxacan Empanada was dry. I didn’t know that there are two schools of thought when it comes to carnitas. The meat can be moist or crispy according to a fellow diner. The carnitas at Agave is “crispy” not dry.
The reason I ordered the Oaxacan Empanda was for the Oaxacan cheese and there wasn’t enough. When I asked my server if the appetizer portion was enough food he said that it was basically a quesadilla but the dough was different. He said it was masa (corn). I thought Argentinian empanadas were made with wheat?
I just didn’t order any mole because of that one time in Mexico City with the projectile vomiting. I can’t be sure what’s lurking under that thick black sludge.
My besties will be beasties Saturday night when we hit up Oakland’s Beast Crawl, a free literary festival in it’s 5th year. 150 writers will take over 40 bars, restaurants, cafes galleries and store fronts starting at 5 pm. There are 4 legs of the crawl including the afterparties from 9 pm-2am at Telegraph (all ages) and Legionnaire Saloon (drinks and dancing).
The Beast Crawl website says, “To curate these literary events for Beast Crawl, we invite a diverse collection of local reading series producers and literary rock stars including the Oakland Youth Poet Laureate Awards, Tourettes Without Regrets, Nomadic Press, Kundiman West, Quiet Lightning, Small Press Distribution, Lip Service West and many more.” I’ve always wanted to check out Tourettes Without Regrets but haven’t made it to Oakland Metro on a first Thursday yet.
If I make it to all 4 legs…
Plan 1 (literary stuff I’m interested in checking out):
Leg 1 (5-6 PM) Red Light Lit at The Venue
Leg 2 (6:30-7:30 PM) Liminal at Darling’s Elixirs
Leg 3 (8-9 PM) Tourettes Without Regrets at Starline Social Club
Leg 4 (9 PM-2AM) Afterparty at Legionnaire
Plan 2 (new places I’m interested in checking out):
Leg 1 (5-6 PM) Kundiman at Taiwan Bento
Leg 2 (6:30-7:30 PM) BustingOut at The Golden Bull
Leg 3 (8-9 PM) Brown People Don’t Read? at AU Club
Leg 4 (9 PM-2AM) Afterparty at Legionnaire
See you there! Somewhere.
I must confess I still believe that I can dress up like Brittany Spears in her Baby One More Time video and look hot. My friends and I went to Club 90s Brittany Spears Night at Starline Social Club in Oakland. We danced to 90s classics such as Baby Got Back, whipped our pigtails around and my boobs were out, way out.
We found more Baby One More Time Brittanys and all danced together while some Asian boyfriends held purses for their girls. We drank fancy 40s of beer. My ankle started to hurt so I sat down and watched as some Brittanys melted down. The best part was that they projected the music videos on the wall.
Sorry you missed it like my co worker Edgar? Don’t despair, Destiny’s Child Night is coming next. Stay abreast on Club 90s’ Facebook page. I think I’ll go with the half naked castaway look from the Survivor video.
They say the hands give away your age more than any other body part. I disagree. Having gray pubic hair, or any pubic hair at all for that matter means you’re old. I’m old.
I mentioned my discovery to my young friend M and she was confused. “Wait, you have pubic hair?” her eyes boggled. It’s true, I have pubic hair. I’m bringing sexy back?
My colorist Julie at Sakura Studio in Oakland, who promises me I have just a few gray hairs on my head, was more understanding. She learned to color hair in Italy (go see Julie, she’s an artist). She often witnessed women leaving the salon with a doggy bag. In the bag was just enough hair dye so that the curtains would match the drapes.
I don’t need the doggy bag yet, but I’m prepared to move to Italy for the gelato and the pubic hair. Cue Justin Timberlake.