Monday, January 25, 2010

Oh Cinnamon

Oh cinnamon oh cinnamon how I love thee.

On toast. On yogurt. In cookies. In coffee. With chocolate. With nuts. In ice cream. In tuna. I’ve even made cinnamon chicken (delicious!).

As far back as I can remember I’ve loved cinnamon and through the years, the highs and lows, cinnamon has always been there to keep me happy.

My love of Marcia Brady came and went but cinnamon remained.

My love of bell bottoms came and went but cinnamon remained.

My love of disco came and went and came and went again but cinnamon remained.

My love of afro perms in the mid 80s was just a sad, sad phase, but cinnamon stood by me proud to spice up my taste buds.

When spiced candles were all the rage I never strayed from the cinnamon scent.

Through the LA riots it was cinnamon raison cookies that kept me safe.

Whenever I have a nightmare a little cinnamon ice cream soothes the fear and lets me sleep like a lamb.

Cinnamon is my friend.

I even painted the walls in my humble abode a nice shade of cinnamon. Some friends have argued the color is rust or terra cotta, but the truth is it’s cinnamon, and those friends have never been invited back.

Just the other day someone sent me a link to a site that proclaimed the curative power of my beloved cinnamon when it’s combined with honey. I say yeah, yeah, yeah... together cinnamon and honey help us stand strong against heart disease, arthritis, hair loss, bladder infections, toothaches, colds, infertility, upset stomachs, gas, skin infections, fatigue, and bad breath.

Hmmm... maybe that’s why my heart beats strongly, my joints dance with great rhythm, my hair glows a shiny and healthy medium brown, I pee regularly, my teeth and gums can chew taffy with ease, I rarely sniffle, I’m hornier than hell, my stomach loves when I eat spicy foods, my farts are silent, my skin is supple and smooth, I only need six hours of sleep, and when I open my mouth it smells like a stick of cinnamon.

Oh yes, that’s what cinnamon has done for me.

So don’t just lay there on the couch feeling plump, tired, and gassy, jump on the cinnamon train and you too can be just like me.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Just Wondering...

Okay, so I do this thing every time I read the newspaper. It’s kind of a weird thing, but something I want to share.

First thing in the morning after checking email I click over to my favorite Los Angeles news site and I read the breaking news, the entertainment news, the food section, the daily blogs, some op-eds, and then I mosey over to the obituaries.

Now there’s nothing wrong with reading the daily obits. It might sound morbid but it’s sometimes the only way to find out when someone you know has bit the big one, kissed the sky, overdosed, met the almighty maker, or whatever else you want to call taking a final breath and becoming cold stone dead.


Do you ever scan the daily obits in hopes of seeing the name of someone who’s done you wrong, really wrong? And then being disappointed day in and day out when they don’t appear?

Please don’t think that I have this long list of people I yearn to see in the obits because I don’t. I’m not obsessed with seeing certain people dead, but there is one particular person who comes to mind every day. It just happened one morning, and since then it happens quite frequently. Even when I try not to look for their name I do.

I won’t name the name, and if you think it’s you you’re probably wrong, but then again... if you think it’s you then that means you’ve done me wrong and maybe I don’t even know it yet.

Anyway, I was just wondering...

Sunday, January 17, 2010

It’s Her Time of the Season

Mother Nature is having her period and I have to suffer.

Last week she was extremely happy with warm temperatures (high 70s), sunlight, and barely a breeze to blow my feathered hair.

This morning I woke up and could feel a restlessness when I looked outside. I sensed a mood swing coming. Oh no, it's that time of the season...

And sure enough Mother Nature sent in clouds and by mid-day she turned the temperature low; too low for my comfort level. By day’s end her bitchiness reared its ugly side with full clouds and rain.

And it looks like it’s going to last all week. Low temperatures (in the very low 60s) and inches of rain to dampen the mood and remind us that she is woman hear her roar.

There’ll be no bike riding this week.

There’ll be no shorts and t-shirt.

There’ll be no sunglasses.

There’ll be no nude hiking.

There will be umbrellas and scarves and rain coats and galoshes and rain hats and slippery roads and steamy windshields and angry drivers and flat hair and flooded gutters and the ping, ping, ping of raindrops against the window panes driving me fucking insane.

Damn that woman. Isn’t there a pill we can give her to alleviate these mood swings?

Wednesday, January 06, 2010


What is the attraction of a McDonald’s McNugget?
I’ve never driven past a McDonald’s and thought, “Hey, I should go get me some McNuggets.”

My saliva has never gone into overdrive yearning to wrap my tongue around a McNugget.

I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a McNugget.

Is deep fried battered processed chicken so mouth watering and addictive that you would go into a state of McNugget Rage if you didn’t get your order?

That seems to be what happened at a drive-thru window at a McDonald’s in Ohio. Melodi Dushane, 24 years old, punched through the drive-thru window when she was told there were no more McNuggets.

I wonder what’s the attraction for Melodi? Does she have an unnatural relationship with them? Does she race through stop lights to get home with her McNuggets so she can curl up on the couch and munch while watching Dr. Phil? Does McDonald’s put something in the batter called Mc-Ecstasy?

I’ve thought about my own secret cravings and wondered if I would experience Dunkin Donut Rage if I were told there weren’t any jelly filled donuts or chocolate crullers available? As the perspiration gathers on temples and my heart speeds up I can only laugh because that would never ever happen.
Dunkin Donuts would NEVER run out of donuts.