CrossFit Northeast Regionals 2011

Congratulations to Dawn Marie, owner, coach and friend to everyone at CrossFit508 for finishing as the 21st fittest woman in the Northeast at the Regionals last weekend!

All of my BFF's showed up to eat, drink (shhh), and cheer on the competitors in the strongest sun ever. Seriously, my face is peeling off.

DM told us that her judge asked if all that cheering was only for her when she was out there doin her thang. It was. We are really loud. And cute as hell.


PS: You didn't think I wouldn't mention good ole "No Rep" did you? Shout out to Dawn for judging all day and getting some sick new Reebok sneakers for her efforts. She has to know she will never, ever, live down that reputation.


YEAH BUDDY!

Don't Worry....Be Freakin Happy!!!!!

I am wondering why self help books are so popular. Its almost as if people don't even know what they like. This makes me think that I am doing OK in life, because if you came up to me and said “ Haley, what do you like?” I could tell you in ten seconds. Even though I technically asked this question to myself, I will tell you anyways. I like the following things; food, blankets, hilarious people, writing, pretending my cats can talk, gum, headbands, sexy ass men, CVS nose drops, sleeping, and my own strange sense of fashion. While we are on the topic, here is a severely shortened list of things I hate; dolphins, Anne Hathaway, Bacardi, Tyler Perry's House of Pain, technology, people from India, huge ugly earrings that match your shirt, calamari, coffee flavored things, outspoken liberals, standing in a weird crowded bar pretending its so fun, and people who fake laugh at the end of every sentence. There are way more, but it could get offensive, racist (more so than it already is), and maybe even illegal, so I will end the hate list there.

The point of this is, I KNOW what makes me happy. There is never a day when I wake up from my 15 hour slumber and wonder “ Hmmm...today I think I will put on my best matching shirt/earring combo and go out for a nice calamari lunch to discuss welfare policies with Sheryl Crowe.” No thank you. If I want to be happy I get some gum, slap on a headband, and go to the mall to buy more gum and headbands. I don't need Dr. Phil to tell me that I would enjoy a nice shopping spree more than hanging myself in an elementary school playground. You people are so lost these days. Just do what you like and shut up about it. Great, now I am all worked up.

So this blog is my declaration that I will never buy a self-help book in my life. Nobody can tell me exactly what makes me happy except ME. At the beginning of 2011, I posted about changing my life to cut out all the bullshit. Well guess what? I did it, and this year has been awesome. I took a look at what I liked to do, and I did it. Now I am skinnier, stronger, happier, my boobs are way huger, and I feel good about who I am as a person. Not one of those things is a lie.

The greatest part about this is, technically this is a self-help blog and you just read it. So now I think you are a big freak. But seriously, anyone who knows me I think would agree that even though most people bother the living crap out of me, I am pretty happy with myself. Not in a self centered kind of way, more in the sense that I am not going to sit around and bitch about hating life but do nothing to change it. In a world where few days go smoothly, happiness is a choice. Its your decision whether you want to smile through it, or declare yourself depressed and buy some dumb book because you have a dead car battery and explosive diarrhea. I say bring on the f*cking diarrhea. If its true that you only get one life, spend it doing what you enjoy, not waiting for some asshole with a book deal to tell you what you like. And that's all I have to say about that.

Hypothetical Fun

Sometimes I think God hates me. I don't hate the rain. When it was raining for one thousand days, I didn't care that much. Toward the end I realized it was making me hungrier and that was upsetting because I don't need to get fatter, but overall, the eternal monsoon did not bother me so much.

But now that the sun is out, I realized how much of an impact the weather has on my mood. I am smiling and talking and sweating...its wonderful. But then, just when I thought things were going so swell, God remembered that I am not allowed to enjoy anything and gave me the worst case of PMS in the history of hormones. I apologize to the male readers out there, but I just need to get this out. I can't stand the sound of anyone's voice. I didn't bring a lunch today and the cafeteria is serving FLOUNDER. Nick's face makes me want to blow up the house. I am on the brink of mass murder. Happy Memorial Day weekend!

This post really has nothing to do with the weather or my womanhood at all, that was just an expression of raw emotion and passion. The real post is about something I noticed the other day that needs to be discussed in this blog because it pissed me the f off.

So lets create a hypothetical situation here...Anyone who knows me knows I love hypothetical situations so I am really pumped about this. OK, so in this scenario you really want to make some money so you can be ballin and put some sick rims on your ride. After countless hours of brainstorming, you come up with the idea that you are going to walk around with a 30 pack of Keystones and offer one to any homeless person who is willing to pee in a bucket. Then, when you have a big enough supply of rancid piss, you are going to sell the idea to grocery stores as an energy drink. We will call it...Golden Shower.

After a few weeks of urination station, you actually manage to convince some stores to carry Golden Shower. However, sales are not what your expected and your car still only has 3 hubcaps. But then, miraculously, you receive a call from the FDA. They want you to know that homeless people are now much happier in major cities all over the country because not only are they getting free beer, but this whole piss business is making them feel like they have a purpose. The FDA wants to cut you a deal. They get a portion of the piss profits, and in exchange, they are going to fund 75% of your Keystone purchases and consult with YOU over the design of the 2011 Food Pyramid. Hepatitis Martini anyone???

The point of this story is, you would have people sucking homeless piss for breakfast, lunch and dinner if this really happened to you. And even though this particular scenario may never happen (yes it will,) in a way this is EXACTLY what is going on in America today. I saw a sign in my work cafeteria called “2010 Food Guidelines” and it went on and on and on about the importance of whole grains. Further inspection of this sign revealed that it was a product of General Mills.BULLLLLSHITTTTT. Whole grains are the Golden Shower of General Mills. They would have to be mothereffing idiots to not include as many grains on that sign as possible. Grains are not healthy, they are a business. A humungous business that the government makes big bucks off of. Thankfully, I am here to tell you this so you can become super smart and awesome but still not as pretty as me. I'm not a miracle worker.

Grains suck. That's the bottom line. So next time you go to eat your stupid “heart healthy” Kashi crap, think about Golden Shower and yell “hell no!” and punt the box out the window for the homeless people. I am pretty sure they will appreciate the excitement because they aren't going to have much to do until I can save up enough quarters to buy some Keystones.

Life Lessons From a True Genius

I made up a phrase and people hate it. NEVER have I had the experience where I used this phrase on someone and they were like “ I get it, that makes sense. You are so beautiful and smart I want to take you through the Dairy Queen drive-thru so many times.” Nope. Everyone hates it. I made up this phrase as a way to respond to people when they ask me why I so often prioritize exercise over fun things like binge drinking and unprotected sex with strangers. I say “ You have to give and take. And you have to pick and choose when you take.” I get the feeling that when I say this, people start to feel awkward because they don't ever really say anything back. This will have no impact on my use of this phrase.

Admittedly, this little saying could use some work. I mean, people aren't going to put that in their Facebook profiles with tons of :) ***** <3 <3 **** around it. But I have never been one to try and please the people, and I think that this phrase relays the point I am trying to make quite well. YOU CAN'T JUST DO WHATEVER YOU WANT ALL THE TIME. Maybe for one year you can, but eventually it will catch up with you and you will just be sitting there all alone staring at your fat body and empty bank account and probably wondering “ why did this happen to me????” I can tell you why. BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT.

We all know that eating is fun. We all know that drinking is fun. Put the two together and I am showing up even if I wasn't invited. I had a brief stint where every single day my life was a party. I lived at home and had a shitbox car, so all my money was extra and I was ready to spend it on Twisted Teas and Applebee's (rhyming.) You know what happened to me? I got fat, I got acne, I saved no money, and LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING...beauty aint on the inside until you are 50, divorced, and on Match.com just praying not to die alone. When you are 22, fat and drunk, you could be the funniest, smartest, coolest (I am all of these things) girl in da hood, and the homeboys don't give a shit.

MORAL OF THE STORY. You can't take all the time. Its like a friendship...if you never offer to be the designated driver, you're a shitty friend. Likewise, if you just drink booze and eat nachos and never take care of your body, you're a shitty human. OK, maybe that's a little extreme, but you certainly aren't doing yourself any favors. Especially in the long run. If you are binge drinking and overeating throughout your twenties, even if there isn't any visible damage now, who knows what problems will result from your lifestyle later down the road! Odds are, if you are spending all your time boozing out at the clubs you are pretty self absorbed, so what exactly are you going to do when you start to get the alchy-face and are too fugly to shake your ass in VIP anymore? Oh, the horror.

I'm not perfect. There are plenty of Saturdays where I am looking at an empty bottle of wine by 10pm and I am talking about the big bottle. BUT, if you rewound 24 hours back in Haley's Life Tape, you would see me refusing millions upon millions of offers to go out and drink so that I can go and get my swell on at the gym. Friday night and Saturday morning, you will find me at CrossFit508.And yes you read that correctly, I really do drag my gigantic, lanky ass out of bed on Saturdays at 6:15am to exercise. And that is called giving, my little blog followers. This way later on, if I do decide to take from the plethora of pleasures that this world has to offer me ( usually in the form of wine, pizza and gummis,) I can feel a little less like a fat, lazy, slob.

Give and take. You gotta give and then you can take. You should always give more than you take. Any way you word it, this phrase sucks.

Festivus Recap: Long and Delightful

So, this past weekend I competed in “A Festivus for the Rest of Us” at CrossFit Relentless in ghettolicious Hartford, CT. Since I know that a lot of people who read this blog are still confused about what CrossFit really is, I thought “ What better way to describe what CrossFit is all about than to recap this whole event and embarrass all my CrossFit friends?” So here it is. “Festivus for the Rest of Us: According to Haley.”

I have to give Dawn Marie (owner of CrossFit508) credit for her approach in asking us to take part in this event. She told us about it months in advance, which was a genius way to get us all to sign up. Everybody is brave when something is months away. But,as the day of the competition drew closer and closer, the Facebook posts started flying about how fricken nervous we all were. Everyone started really honing in on training hard in that final week before the competition, and I THOUGHT everyone was going to have their eating in check. Boy did I overestimate everyone (including myself.) Maureen ate 5 Guys, Nicole had an ice cream, and I had 13 munchkins the day before. We may not be perfect, but we are fun.

Anyways, on a regular day at CrossFit508, I get yelled at for talking and not doing what I am supposed to at least 500 times. If you think that is bad, I am surprised that Pam is even allowed to come back. We just have a lot to say! But in that half hour before the competition started, it was like you were at a school for the deaf. We were all making crazy faces and pretending to focus on stretching, but really we were all petrified for what was ahead of us...a 2k row for time.

If you have never done a 2000 meter row for time before, I would not suggest doing this ever. As part of our Paleo Challenge back in March we all were required to row 2k, so we were FULLY aware of how bad our lives were about to suck. Maureen went first and set a 51 second PR which was awesome to see. I think she just wanted it over with because she had to stare at William on his crutches screaming at her the whole time. Nicole was next up with a major PR as well. I made the mistake of yelling in her ear that she was halfway done, which is something nobody wants to hear in a 2k row. You want to be ALL done. Then, after watching everyone sweat, pant, and grunt, it was time for Janet, Pam and myself to get on the rowers. We all lined up, cute as buttons, right next to each other and, just like Maureen and Nicole before us, we all hit new personal records. The pictures from this scene are terrifying. I have jelly rolls, we all have red faces, and its just a hot mess. But hey guess what? We rowed 2k as hard as we could and you didn't, so whatever a-hole.

After the row, I think everyone calmed down a little, and we all walked around on our numb legs for a few minutes before the next event. In the next workout,we had seven minutes to achieve a maximum weight deadlift, and I was planning on throwing up a Hail Mary for 250. I secretly thought that if I could pull that off, it would be the best female deadlift of the day. NOPE. Some chick pulled 300. And a bunch of other girls were working with what looked like WAY more than 250. These heats were small as weight plates were limited, so there were several instances where we didn't know anyone in the heat, but cheered them on like freaks anyways. We are just that nice. And I think we all have ADD and will take any opportunity to scream at someone.

Anyways, just like the first event, EVERYONE hit personal records on their deadlifts. I was so happy to get that 250 that I high-fived my judge about thirty times and now he hates me. I actually got 255 up, but I am an idiot and dropped it which is not allowed so it didn't count. Nobody from 508 was surprised that I did that. Bitches don't give me no respect.

At this point in the day, we were all feeling pretty good about our personal records, and I don't think anybody had their panties in a knot over this last event. It was just straight up CrossFit: 4 rounds for time of a 400 meter run, 20 kettle bell swings, and ten box jumps. No reason for panic there, we all had done those things a million times. We were so ready.

YEAH RIGHT. I watched Maureen go first and I could tell by her face that she was wishing for death. She kicked ass and got through the workout like a champion with her little ponytail flowing in the breeze, but I could see it in her eyes that this was going to be worse than I was anticipating. By chance, Nicole, Pam, Janet and I all ended up in the same heat which gave me a little bit of comfort. This was familiar to me. I work out with these idiots every day. We have the even bigger idiots on the sidelines cheering us on. What could go wrong?

Oh, A LOT. First of all, on that first run I knew things were going to suck when my legs felt cemented to the ground. Poor Sage standing down at the 400 meter mark must have gotten so many terrifying looks from the runners as he yelled out things like “ You can catch her!” and “Last round!” I am sure when it was over everyone appreciated the cute little kid yelling inspirational quotes at the top of his lungs, but at the time all I could do was look at him and gasp “Oh my god!” He's a Crossfitter, he understands.

Every single 508 athlete finished those 4 rounds without walking once. Not a sign of giving up on anyone's face. We all trotted along and never stopped, no matter how badly we just wanted to lay on the ground and be done with it. A lot of this is owed to our 508 cheering section, who screamed at me all 8 times I ran past them during that event. Put a little spring in my slow, pathetic step. I mean I really am surprised that my legs still worked at this point. Maureen, Pam, Nicole and Janet...you know what I am talking about! AND,my shoe came untied in a Brian Ray moment of shoe malfunction. God that last workout was a bitch.

OK, if you are still reading at this point you need to get a life right now. This is the longest post ever. I am really not trying to beat this day to death, and talk about how great it was over and over until everyone wants to murder me, but it really was a very special day. I think that we all went into this competition with some level of self doubt, but we all ended the day knowing that we are capable of more than we think. Again, thank you to everyone who came out to support us, and to all the coaches who put up with us when the gym seems more like a kindergarten classroom than a gym for adults. If you told me five years ago that I would be competing in a fitness competition I would have laughed and then yelled at you for interrupting my phone call to Dominoes. I owe so much to CrossFit and all the people that have come into my life because of this sport. And I think I am just going to end this here with one gigantic YEAH BUDDY!



Quick and painless.




First one to hit the final WOD. Look at that form!



Hey asshole, don't drop that.



Elegant.




I really like these boots.

Easter Fun

Happy Easter!!! Easter is the worst. For some reason I used to get excited about it when I was a little freak child. We would leave out carrots and I would ask tons of questions about the Easter Bunny's mode of transportation. But now I don't really care about Easter, because last year I got Nick a giant basket filled with candy AND Paleo food, AND I woke up at 5am to display it perfectly on the kitchen table, and WHAT DID I GET IN RETURN? Nothing. A giant teeth smile. I hate that kid.

I shouldn't have even mentioned Easter because now I feel like I am keeping secrets if I don't tell everyone that my family is going to the 99 to celebrate the resurrection. This is not a joke. I mean, I am not complaining because my Dad will pay for it and they have 22oz Wachussett Blueberries on draft, but wtf is wrong with my family? I am going to show up wearing the Easter outfit I had on in a picture I recently found of myself ; a blue, long-sleeved dress, white tights, white shoes with buckles, a white straw hat suctioned to my giant head, and holding a balloon that says Happy Easter. The picture was taken last year.

Since it is the Friday before a holiday, this is pretty much the obligatory “don't go too crazy you huge, gigantic, disgusting, fatass” post. I am going to eat some Reese eggs and over a thousand Sour Patch Kids, but I am really going to try to keep my meals as Paleo and gluten free as possible. When I eat gluten I get pimples and that's not sexy. If I am ever going to find a boyfriend who will buy me an Easter basket I can't be rolling around town with a zit face. Gross.

If you don't celebrate Easter, you should just use this day as an excuse to eat candy and drink. I do that all the time when I see that other people are having fun at events I wasn't invited to. If I go on Facebook and see one person's status saying they are at a party, I am instantaneously out the door to buy a 30 pack and some onion dip for a one man bender. Fun is my middle name. Just kidding its Marie, Just kidding its Sex Warrior.

Happy Easter!

Flop Flop Flop

Over the course of my life, I have noticed a lot of things, some relevant, some ridiculous. For instance, some people put their blinker on to get on the highway. This is ridiculous. WHY would anybody do that in a million years? The oncoming cars are never wondering whether you are going to merge or just go barreling off into the wilderness for fun. Something tells me Brian Ray is the world's worst offender of the unnecessary merging blinker. Let's just all make a pact now that unless we are putting on our right blinker and committing suicide, NO BLINKERS TO MERGE! OK THANKS!

Anyways, while my blinker rage may be a good example of a meaningless observation, I do happen to notice some other things that are a little more important. For example, I have noticed that there are two types of “exercisers” in the world, and that every single person falls into one of the types. I know that when HGW was just a wiiiiittle bitty baby, I put up a post about the types of people that you see in a regular gym. This is different, yo. This post is less about people's workout antics, and more about their motives. Its way more deep and soulful because I am getting older and using spirituality to cope with the realization of my own mortality. And I also needed something to write about.

So lets start with Type 1. I will refer to this group as the “Floppers.” If you are a Flopper, you come into the gym, usually 3 to 4 times a week and flop around. You get on the elliptical and flop your way through an episode of Two and a Half Men. Then you might flop your arms around with some 5lb dumbbells and call it a day. For guys, you usually flop around on the treadmill at the slowest pace ever, and then go and do 3 bench presses with twenty minute breaks in between. How do you spend the breaks? By draping your bodies over the machines, staring at girls in full makeup, and drinking weird protein shakes...AKA flopping around. Floppers exercise because they think its the thing to do. Their workouts never change and improvements are rare. I know this because I used to be the greatest Flopper of them all. Except I did my elliptical time during Jeopardy and skipped the free weights in favor of the free tanning. Tannest, fattest, factoid machine. But hey, I was going to the gym wasn't I?

I don't have a name for the second group of exercisers. I thought I was creative, but apparently my self esteem is too high. I tried to think of the most determined and courageous person in the world, but all I come up with was Dumbledore and that's gay. But don't fret my pets, because what this group lacks in name, it makes up for in street cred. These are the people who exercise for IMPROVEMENT. The people who make physical fitness a measure of success. People like ME. I measure my success in 3 ways; good relationships, good career, good fitness. If one area is lacking, I go shithouse, pound a bottle of wine, cry, and fake being sick so people pay attention to me. Sorry fellas....I'm taken.

MY POINT IS...don't be a flopper. If you are going to take the time to exercise, its pointless to hate it the whole time. Flailing around on the elliptical to maintain your flabby body is stupid as hell. Make exercise a priority. Make it an area of your life where you set and achieve goals. I guarantee you will not only start to like working out, but you will also start to look better which is a good thing because I know who reads this blog and most of you are not going to be winning any hot body contests anytime soon. BOOM.

Death and Finding Inspiration: A Blogger's Strife

I think I am dead. I have been sick for a week and it isn't getting better. It's from the community M&M's at work. I have the world's worst case of germophobia, but I can't keep my fat hands out of that effing M&M dish. Those little f*ckers are PEANUT BUTTER. Everyone who knows me is well aware that I am more of a gummi girl, so I had never had peanut butter M&M's until like 2 weeks ago and I am pissed about it. They are wonderful. Once I ate one, it just turned into a non-stop M&M party which led to me contracting the Ebola virus and losing the ability to tell if I am alive or not. Moral of the story: stick with the gummis.

So feeling like absolute dick has really put a damper on this blog in the sense that I haven't posted in over a week. I was also having trouble finding inspiration, and if you are a brilliant mind like me, you know that genius needs to be inspired. But, alas, inspiration came to me, as it most often does, in the form of an annoyance. Listening to people talk about diets and health. Makes me insane.

I know that I can't expect everyone to be Paleo, but it really is hard for me to keep my mouth shut sometimes. I talk a lot and I like to know things, so when I hear people talking about reduced fat Wheat Thins and shit, it takes everything in me to keep quiet. Its 2011...why are you eating Wheat Thins?

I get it, knowing what to eat is confusing. Do you eat low carb? Do you do Weight Watchers? Do you count calories? There are a lot of questions out there for a person looking to get (and stay) healthy. But I have to think that in 2011, you have to know that processed crackers are bad news. Don't get me wrong, you can go from a diet of all fast food, to a diet of lean turkey sandwiches and low-fat CheezIts and you will probably lose some POUNDS. But I am telling you right now, if you lose your weight on a high carb, low calorie diet, you will have chicken legs and arms with the world's jiggliest belly. Super fun time!

I love it when I think someone is thin, and then I see pictures of them on Facebook in a bikini and I am like “ Holy mother of Christ nice rolls, Jigglepuff.” Its called skinny-fat and in my opinion it is worse than fat-fat. When I was a fatty there were no false pretenses. I had a nice tan, nice hair, giant boobs, but I was a little fat and everyone knew it. Honesty, people. Its all about the honesty. Show the world your giant bod. On the flipside, there are chicks out there who look like pipe cleaners, but you get their clothes off and its like they are made of white Nickelodeon Gack. Talk about awkward. Whats the point of being skinny then? Who are you the friggin devil? If I was a dude and I thought I was scoring a chick with a hot bod only to find out her skin looked like it was full of cottage cheese while simultaneously melting off her body I would flip the f*ck out. That's false advertising in the worst kind of way. WORSE than a giant push up bra if you ask me. I can work with little boobs, but surprise belly rolls are just grounds for ending whatever was going on in the first place. (Note: This is coming from the perspective of me pretending to be a young single male. Since I do not fit that profile, I cannot speak for everyone, or anyone actually, in this age demographic. Some people are chubby chasers and if you are one, please contact me because I have so, so so, many questions.)

This is where my mind goes when people start talking about foods they think are healthy. Even Dr. Oz, who I think is literally an alien, agrees that ALL NATURAL foods are the way to go. Even if people were confused about whether or not beans are healthy (they aren't) and eating too much fruit, it would not upset me because those foods are at least natural! If you are standing there announcing to anyone who will listen that you are going to be so skinny because you eat mini bags of cinnamon rice cakes, you are just stupid. You are going to have a weird, bloated, disproportionate body, and I am going to laugh so hard at all your bikini pictures when you post them on Facebook. So hard.


The point of this post was not to be malicious. I have been a fatty before, and I got nothin but love for all you large orders out there just trying to make it in the world. As long as you are happy, I am happy. But, if you are currently at an unhealthy weight, and considering some strange, low calorie, crash diet to get thin, you should really consider prioritizing your HEALTH over your WEIGHT. I guarantee you, that if you focus on feeding your body an all natural, nutritious, and as gluten free as possible diet, the weight loss will happen. Or, you could go the other way, and stuff your face full of 100 calorie packs of Chips Ahoy and that weird Pirate's Booty shit, and turn into the flabbiest freak on the planet. Whatever way you decide to go, please still plan on posting the semi-nudes on Facebook. K, thanks bye.

Holy Cow

I would never describe myself as an animal lover. I love some dogs. I love some cats. I pretty much hate every other kind of animal. Baby pigs are cute, I guess. And monkeys are okay if they don't bite and don't have that gigantic visible asshole. But if we are in the trust tree here, I am going to just come out and tell you that if I run over a squirrel I don't cry. Although I did cry when I ran over a turtle because it wasn't his fault he was born a slow mover (like Nick.) And I also cried that time a cat ran into my back wheel and catapulted into a bus stop full of people doing high speed cartwheels (the cat was doing the cartwheels, not the people.) Whatever. The point is, while you will never catch me working for the ASPCA, my new “thing” is to really care about where the cows I eat come from, what they are being fed, and how they are being treated. I love having new “things.” This one is almost as cool as when my “thing” was wearing Harley Davidson clothes in 11th grade. Except I don't think caring about cows will make nearly as many people think I am a douchebag. By the way I don't know if cartwheel cat lived or died.

Recently I have started eating a lot of grass fed beef that I purchase at a farmer's market in North Attleboro. The main reason I like this beef better is because not only is it hormone free, but it is also totally full of an acid called CLA that helps to reduce abdominal fat. HIGH FIVE! Admittedly, I notice very little, if any, difference in the taste between this beef and the beef I could buy at Stop and Shop, but it makes me feel a little better knowing that the meat I am eating is increasing my level of sexiness. I only have a few more good years before I have to get an old lady haircut, so I will take all the sexiness assistance I can get for the time being.

Another reason I like this beef is because it is not produced at a giant, disgusting slaughterhouse. If you have seen the movie Food Inc, you will know that the big slaughterhouses process thousands of cows an hour and employ tons of illegal immigrants who work in abysmal conditions. Think about it. Countless cow carcasses flying around on hooks being inspected by people who probably don't give a shit about their job because it SUCKS? Who the hell knows what is getting into that beef! Probably finger nails and cow balls and cow hair and AIDS. Gross. My cows go to a small slaughterhouse in Vermont and fly around dead in much smaller groups. Less flailing carcasses, less room for error, less AIDS.

Finally, I like to eat grass fed beef whenever I can because it is SAFE. A lot of people don't know this, but E-Coli does not exist in grass fed cows. I can eat this meat, cooked whatever way I want, knowing that I am not going to die painfully from E-Coli after several days of hallucinating and puking up blood clots. The United States government is at the point where it profits so much from corn production, that rather than just STOP feeding cows corn all together to prevent E-Coli, they are just pumped full of unnatural antibiotics to kill the bacteria. Feeding cows corn is cheap, so why stop just because its harmful to them? This would be like if you ate laundry detergent all the time because its cheap, but then took drugs so you wouldn't die. That's dumb, and everyone would hate you. Luckily, now you know this, and you can start to look into purchasing locally raised grassfed beef instead. Party!

To wrap this up, I just want to pull on your heart strings a little and tell you that the cows living in giant warehouses, being fed corn, and waiting to die are not happy cows. They never get to go outside, and they never get any love (sexually from other cows or platonic love from humans.) The cows I eat get to go out in the fields and eat and take huge craps and have tons of sex all day. I like to imagine that the farmer hugs them and kisses them and names them things like Cuddles, Sprinkles, and T-Pain. Keep in mind, the same rules apply for pigs and chickens, and it is always better to eat grassfed pork and pastured chickens whenever you can. This post is dedicated to the possibly dead, but also maybe still alive, Cartwheel Cat.

Happy Flingin Flangin Friday!

For some reason this week was the longest week of my life. And now there is an hour left, thank christ. HOW BOUT THIS WEATHER, HUH??? I ALMOST feel like its a nice, warm, spring day where I leave work and go directly home to eat steak and drink beer outside. I would punch a blind orphan square in the dick if that could be what I was really doing tonight. Instead I am going to the gym and making a grocery list. Then I will most likely fall asleep before 10pm. ***gLaMoUr GiRl***

This weekend I plan on cooking and not spending one dollar on anything other than food. I don't really feel 100% today, so this will be a good chance for me to just strap on my homeless guy suit and just really be myself. What that means is that I will be wearing pants with Spongebob on them and swearing a lot. Feel free to drop by!

I am particularly excited about one recipe I am going to make tomorrow, which is pineapple chunks wrapped in bacon. I don't even think I have ever held a whole pineapple in my hands before, so this will be like an episode of the Helen Keller cooking show and I can't wait! If the recipe is a success, I will post it so you can all try it out. Maybe if you're lucky I will even take a (NSFW) picture of me and my Paleo creation!

Have a good weekend everyone! All the Paleo challengers, stay strong, we are past the halfway mark! To all you normal people, drink a box of Franzia to your face in my honor! See ya next week!