The Worst Breakfast

This is the worst breakfast you could possibly eat.  I'll show you the recipe and picture first, then I'll explain myself.

Alright.  I assume you've taken that in.

First of all, I get that some people like coffee, and believe that they need it to function in the morning.  Bitter vomit flavor is appealing to lots of people.  I don't pretend to get it, but I understand it on an intellectual level.  So on its face, a coffee smoothie sounds like a pretty good breakfast idea.  You're killing two birds with one stone, getting your coffee and nutrition all at once.  But you guys, this is not the way to do it.

All this "smoothie" is is a milkshake.  Read the ingredients again.  It's coffee, ice, dairy and chocolate.  It could be argued that vanilla Greek yogurt is preferable to ice cream, but I raise my eyebrow.  It's basically the same thing.  Sugar, cream, vanilla, in that order.  

This is what will happen if you eat this for breakfast.  You will feel really happy and good while you're drinking it because of all the sugar and chocolate and dairy.  Then you will feel nauseated because you overloaded your body with this after fasting for twelve hours.  The nausea will last until around 10:00, when you will start to feel shaky and weak.  Your brow will break out in a sweat, and you'll start panting, feeling like you're having a panic attack, because your blood sugar is crashing so hard you are now not functional. 

But lunch break is still two hours away!  What are you going to do?  You need some food NOW.  You're now into the angry part of the blood sugar crash, where your heart is full of hatred for everyone around you.  Look at that guy at the copy machine.  He's a worthless piece of shit, isn't he?  Look at him, with those shoes.  Who does he think he is, the stupid motherfucker?  

Now you start rifling through your purse, hoping you've squirreled away a snack of some kind.  And you hit gold!  It's a bag of chocolate coins from that kid's birthday party you went to last weekend.  You confiscated the candy from your child, because you didn't want her to eat it all at once, and you forgot to give it back!  You realize that's a shitty move on your part, and you feel kind of bad about it, but you don't have time to sit around berating yourself for your questionable parenting skills; now is the time to get this crap into your body, with as little chewing as possible.

So you eat this entire baggy of candy.  Your body slowly starts to return to normal, which is a relief.  But then you're nauseated again, because of all the damned sugar.  You hate yourself.  Why can't you remember to pack almonds, like you always say you're going to do?  You even bought a whole bag of almonds, just for that purpose, and you meant to put them in your purse, but you forgot.  Mostly because the idea of sitting and eating plain, raw almonds makes you feel depressed, but also, partially because you honestly forgot.  

The nausea lasts until lunch time, when you're finally able to get a decent meal with protein and vegetables, but until then, you've had a shitty day full of sickness, hatred and guilt.  

So do yourself a favor.  Have some eggs and hash browns like a sane person.  

A Blog About My Daughter, for Mothers' Day

In honor of Mothers' Day, I've decided to write a post about some of the things that make Nadia the Best Little Girl in the World. Without her, Mothers' Day wouldn't be about me at all, so cheers to her for that!  Here's to you, Nadia!

1) Instead of saying, "I love you," she says "I love it."  She'll wrap her arms around me and give me a tender little hug, and say "I love it!"  At first, it freaked me out.  Like, is she channeling Buffalo Bill, pulling some "it puts the lotion in the basket whenever it's told" kinda shit?  But I've come to realize that she just doesn't get pronouns.  For instance, when she wants me to carry her, she'll say "carry you!"  She'll figure it out someday, I bet.

2) She has the worst singing voice in the world, and it's my favorite sound.  Some of her favorites are "The ABCs", "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "Open Shut Them".  Usually a mishmash of all three, with counting.  She often wakes me up in the morning with her songs.

3) She likes sleeping, and goes to bed with only a minimum of fuss. 

4) She is decently smart.  At age two, she can locate the continents, count to twenty, "sing" the alphabet song, read a little, identify all shapes and colors, and manipulate the shit out of everyone.

5) She still hasn't figured out how to open a door. 

6) She believes that everyone and everything is on this planet to serve her, and to make her happy.  I find this indescribably charming.

7) She's confident!  She states her opinions and desires loudly and boldly.  She does not second guess herself.  She knows what she wants, and she does what she has to do to get it.

8) She's not a picky eater.  This is especially important in my house, as I am unwilling to accommodate any more dietary restrictions.  If she develops an allergy, or an intense dislike for a food group, I'm giving up and ordering take-out for all meals. 

9) She enjoys cleaning up spills.  

10) When we play air hockey, or "soccer", she repeatedly tells me "thank you, Mommy" and "nice one!"and "Good try!"  

As you can see, she's the best child, and I'm so lucky I have her.  She's turned me into a mushy pile of goo, and while that makes me uncomfortable, it also makes me a better, kinder person.  

Here's some Goya to counteract the mushiness of this post.

Should You Vote?

Voting is obviously extremely important and I would never suggest or support government restriction on voting rights.  All adult citizens of the USA should have the right to vote, period.  

However.

Just because you have the right to do something, that doesn't mean you should do it.  I have the right to hiss at ugly people.  Doesn't mean I should do it.  And while I believe strongly that MOST people should vote, there are about 5-10% of people who should just stay home on Election Day, and we should all be ok with that.

Here are some criteria you should think about when deciding if you should vote or not.

1) Did you think the Duck Dynasty guy had his first amendment rights violated?  If so, you should not vote, because you don't understand how stuff works.

2) Are you only voting the way your parents/pastor/deity-of-choice told you to?  Don't vote.  If you didn't make up your own mind, your vote doesn't count.  It also doesn't count if you are only voting the way your friends or some cool celebrity is voting.  

3) Do you have a general sense of what the issues are, and where the candidates stand on them?  If you are completely ignorant, and have no idea what's going on the the world, and you would basically be selecting a candidate at random, don't vote.

Yes, I know it's our civic duty to be aware of the world around us and to take a stand and vote accordingly.  But if you haven't been keeping up with things, for whatever reason, don't compound your error by making an uneducated vote.  

Most people should definitely vote.  But I think recusing yourself because you lack the knowledge to make an informed choice is perfectly valid and reasonable.  

People Who Spread Stomach Viruses Should Be Punished

Before I had Nadia, I didn't get stomach viruses, because I am a clean person who washes her hands regularly, and doesn't eat in dirty places.  However, once I found myself spending sixteen hours a day in close contact with a toddler, that all changed.  Because Nadia does not share my commitment to hand washing, and does not understand about germs, or the mechanisms by which viruses are spread.  Also, she wants to be cuddled while she vomits.  Apparently she finds this comforting.

Anyway, this isn't news to anyone with kids; we all know that they're little germ factories.  But they are not the reason why stomach bugs continue to plague the world.  Nope.  Because a small baby or child can't spread its germs all around town without a horrible nightmare of a parent who takes that child out and about, and lets that child touch things and put things in its mouth and slide its diarrhea encrusted butt all over surfaces everywhere.  

The way stomach bugs spread is through fecal matter.  Do you know what that means?  People are literally walking around with feces on their hands and touching things.  There is absolutely no excuse for this.  And yes, I know that it only takes a tiny speck of microscopic fecal matter to spread the illness, but I don't care.  That shouldn't matter if you're thoroughly washing your hands and staying at home while contagious.  I don't want to hear any fucking excuses.  Wash your damn hands PROPERLY, and DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE IF YOU HAVE VOMITING OR DIARRHEA.  DO NOT TAKE YOUR CHILD OUT OF THE HOUSE IF SHE HAS VOMITING OR DIARRHEA, FOR ANY REASON EXCEPT A HOUSE FIRE, OR AN EMERGENCY ROOM VISIT, OR A PHARMACY VISIT.  THAT'S IT.

I don't even understand how people CAN leave the house when they have stomach bugs.  When I have one, I can't get out of bed, much less put on an outfit and head to a restaurant and rub poop on doorknobs, as people apparently do.  

I get so angry when I'm talking to a mother who says "Oh, yeah, yesterday Dakota had a really bad stomach bug."  Umm, ok, then what the fuck are you doing at the park today?  Get Patient Zero back home until he's been at least a full 48 hours without symptoms.  He may seem to be feeling ok, but you don't know!  He's still a big maybe in the wellness department.  He could blow at any time!  

My big pet peeve right now is people who change diapers and then don't wash their hands, claiming that they "didn't get anything on their hands."  These people don't understand science, or how particles work.  Just because you don't have literal globules of shit on your hands, that doesn't mean they're clean.  Tiny particles of feces flick and scatter when you wipe a child's ass.  That is fact.  WASH YOUR HANDS.

This blog has been disgusting and angry.  I am aware of that, and I apologize a little.  But it's nowhere near as disgusting as the filthy degenerates who go around spreading this shit and ruining my life.  

If you're sick with a stomach bug, don't assume it's food poisoning, or that you're not contagious.  Stay home, a day more than you think you should.  And wash your hands, regardless, always, frequently, and well.

Evolution and Hate

The general theory is that human emotions have good, biological, evolutionary reasons.  For instance, love has an evolutionary explanation, in that if I love someone, I will try to help and protect that person, giving that person a better chance at living and reproducing, and so on.  Therefore, people who are able to give and receive love reproduce more and pass those love genes onto their offspring.  Fear keeps us safe from harm.  Jealousy makes us protect what's ours and strive for more.  

But what about hate?

On the surface, it would seem that hate has no good evolutionary reason.  After all, hate is one of the greatest destructive forces known to man, and countless atrocities are committed because of it.  It would seem that hate, as an emotion, would have died out long ago if it were purely detrimental.  We are socialized from the time we're small children to believe that hate is a very, very bad thing, and that we should avoid hate at all costs.  It's ok to dislike something, or be annoyed at someone, but hate?  Never!  

And yet, people keep on hating.

I think there are two kinds of hate.  Destructive hate - the kind that causes us to harm others, and constructive hate.  Yeah, I said it.  Hate can be constructive.  Let me explain.

I have hated three people in my life.  Deep, true, fierce hatred the likes of which I hope never to experience again.   It was a deeply unpleasant feeling.  I'm not going to go into details or name names - the purpose of this isn't to bad mouth anyone.  But I believe, in retrospect, that this hatred did in fact serve a positive purpose in my life.  These three people showed me the absolute worst of humanity.  They showed me how really, truly awful people can be.  And my hatred of them caused me to actively avoid being like them.  

Now, obviously this is not going to be a popular opinion.  And I would like to repeat here that destructive hatred is always bad.  You should never harm others, even if you hate them.  Period.  But constructive hatred that influences you to take a morally productive, healthier and overall happier path in life shouldn't be dismissed out of hand.  

This has been a blog post by Dana Hammer, Evolutionary Psychologist, and Explainer of Mysteries.  Mike drop.

Rich People and Their Damn Houses

I like to transport myself to other places using real estate listings.  It's one of my favorite hobbies.  It fuels my imagination, and gives me a sense of wonder and pleasure.  I love architecture, and admiring the vast array of building styles, and how they change from region to region and country to country.  Of course, I have no intention to move - I love my home and I love Orange County.  But it's fun to browse.  So, so much fun!

First, I like to find the shittiest shitholes I can find.  Anything that sells for less than $10,000 is a good bet.  Urban ruins, ex-meth labs, abandoned farmhouses - all of them are fun for the gawking!  In a way it's sad, because you can see that at one time someone built this house, with hope for the future, and they tried to fill it with love - but something went very, very wrong along the way, and now look at it.  Look at it!  Then I make up stories about zombies living in the cupboards, and poltergeists.  

Then, I do what I call "backup planning".  If Phil dies, I probably won't be able to afford to live in Orange County anymore.  Even if I get a good paying job, it's very, very unlikely that I'll ever be able to earn a Phillip-level salary, and you can't make it down here on one Dana-sized income.  So I look in more affordable cities, like El Paso and Portland and Memphis and choose which houses I could afford with the life insurance payout.  These searches are not that interesting, and they're sort of macabre, but they fill me with reassurance that I won't wind up an impoverished widow, wandering house to house, begging for alms in a shawl.  

Then comes the funnest search.  Rich people houses.

The best place to look for rich people houses is Sotheby's International Real Estate Listings.  There you can find castles, private islands, houses that have jet-landing-pads, etc.  These are fantasy fodder, and I spend way, way, way too much time searching for them.

Here's what I've learned about rich people in different countries.

Greece is the place to go if you want something quirky, bohemian and special.  It is the place where I found my dream house - a seventeenth century castle, decorated with colorful floor cushions and rustic window seats, overlooking the mountains.  Someday, when the revolution comes...

Hong Kong's upscale real estate market is blindingly expensive - way more expensive than anything I've seen anywhere else.  And yet, every building is the same - bland, beige boxes with black accents and large windows with water views.  That's it.  It never changes.  And it pisses me right the fuck off.  Because if you are going to spend 25 million dollars on a house, why would you buy a boring ass box, when you could afford something truly unique and special?  You're basically throwing your money into the street, since you could get the exact same thing for 500k in the suburbs in Orange County.  Fucking beige boxes piss me off.

Dubai has extremely fancy luxury houses, with lots of bells and whistles, but they all look like they were designed by lecherous hairy men from Las Vegas who wear gold chains and leave the top three shirt buttons unbuttoned, and leave "tasteful" porn magazines out on the coffee table.

The Caribbean has lovely ocean-view homes, but for some reason, all the houses have cutesy names that make me want to vomit.  "Deliliah's Delight", "Shannon's Shack", "Shelly's Seashell Staycation Sensation".  Someday a hurricane will take them all out.

The USA actually has a number of very tasteful, elegant homes, though it also has its share of beige boxes.  The best homes tend to be on the east coast and in the south - large, sprawling mansions with columns and turrets and Victorian embellishments and private lakes.  These homes also have names, but they tend to be more sedate and classic sounding.  "Biltmore Estate" and "Vandergraff House" and "Irving Farm".  

After I do my searches, I get to planning.  What would I buy, for instance, if I won the powerball and I was a billionaire and could afford anything?  Would I just hire an architect and buy some land and go crazy with secret rooms and hidden passageways and a trampoline room?  What would I buy if Rosemary's Baby Daddy gets published and sells really well and I could afford like, a million dollar house?  What would I name my beautiful house?  Hammer House?  That's terrible.  It sounds like a construction project, or a jail.  Dana's Den?  I would rather be homeless.  The Cotswalds?  Already taken.  

I get frustrated when I can't pick a decent name for my imaginary house, because it makes me feel inferior.  Like I'm no better than all those rich people I just judged so harshly.  Like I don't deserve a fancy house any more than they do.  I don't like to think about myself that way, so I just decide that naming a house is silly and pretentious, and that my imaginary house doesn't need a name.  It just needs me.  

Then I look up shitholes until I feel good about myself again.

Crow Training

At a party, I recently learned that it's possible to train crows to bring you loose change that they find, and I was instantly enchanted.  That is a career that has Dana written all over it.  No phones.  No angry customers.  No forms and paperwork.  No fax machines.  Also, I like crows.  

I announced to my friends and husband that I planned to train me up a murder of crows to do my bidding.  No only would I train them to bring me change, I would train them to send letters as well.  I know eight Game of Thrones Geeks off the top of my head who I'm certain would pay me to send letters for them by crow.  

My friends and husband laughed, assuming that I was just drunk and full of bad ideas, like usual.  

They were wrong.

Of course, I had no idea how to begin.  Where does one go to find crows?  How do you make them stay?  How do you communicate with birds?  I realized that I had zero answers to these questions, and I became discouraged.  

However, one day when I was playing outside with Nadia, what should we see, but a murder of crows?  They were hanging out in the trees across the street.  I panicked, completely losing my shit.  I was not prepared!  I WAS NOT PREPARED!  I raced inside and got a piece of bread, vaguely recalling that birds like bread, and tore it into tiny pieces and threw them all over the sidewalk and yard.  The birds ignored me and flew away.

I was sad.  A friend assured me that they would come back in a week, which made me feel slightly better, but I wasn't sure I believed that it was true.

It was true.

One week later, the crows were back.  But this time, I was prepared.  I had a jar of peanuts, ready and waiting.  I sprinkled them all over the yard and sidewalk, while my two year old daughter snatched them up and ate them, giggling because Mommy was throwing food everywhere, which was obviously an attempt to create a wonderful new game.  Eventually I got her to stop eating the peanuts by simply taking her back inside.  But when I went out later to check, all the peanuts were gone.

The next day, again, Nadia and I went outside, and again the crows were there.  Again, I threw peanuts for them, and went back inside.   Repeat.  Repeat.

Then, one day, the number of crows increased.  As soon as Nadia and I went outside, they FLOCKED to my house.  It was one of the strangest things I have ever experienced.  Because they didn't just hang out in a tree - they SURROUNDED us.  They landed on top of the house, on the telephone wires, on every tree in the backyard, and every tree in the front yard.  

The rush of feelings was intense.  First of all, I felt powerful and effective.  I had done it!  I was the Queen of the Crows!  But on the heels of that elation, was very real fear.  Because being surrounded by dozens of watchful crows is creepy as fuck.  

I took Nadia back inside.

Later, I told Phil about my crow luring, skimming over the amount of effort and time I'd actually spent doing it, and he was less than pleased.  Turns out, he has no desire to live in a Crow Kingdom, and was pretty adamant that I cease all crow training operations immediately.  I pouted a little, but in reality, I think I was kind of relieved.  

And so, my crow training days have come to an end.  Phil made a solid point that we don't want our house and cars to be covered in crow shit, and I do agree with that.  Also, I don't want Nadia to get her eyes pecked out if she accidentally angers them.  Crow time is over.

For now.