Wish Bear’s blog

Rating:                1000/10
Bottom Line:        It's my HG!  I love it!!
Pros                    Tastes amazing in any form.
Cons:                  Kinda high cal/fat the way that I prefer them. 

Details:

Just ate some Garlic Mashed Potatoes from the Outback and now here is this post.  Like magic.  There's really not much to say except that these are a "desert island" item for me.  I mean not only could I eat it, but I could use it for electricity to build my island nation.  You can't get more awesomer than that.

Mysteries of the Potato:
Does anyone know if potatoes go bad?  What about if they start growing arms and trying to escape the bag in which they came?  Should I throw them out?  I'm kind of afraid to touch them and think I may instead allow them to live in peace in my pantry.

So I love youtube and I love product reviews.  I've always wanted to do a product review on youtube, but because of several issues (biggest factors: of my condition called paranoia, my feelings on privacy, and I'm pretty sure not allowed by my future employers) I will not post pictures or videos on the internet.  So this pretty much means I can't post on youtube.  Well, I guess technically I could, but it would be the lamest video ever.  Hmm...unless, I decide to learn animation.  Then things could get very interesting indeed.

But I digress. 

I've decided to post product reviews here instead.  I don't have a specific genre that I want to review, but I've been doing a lot of research and buying in skincare and makeup, so I've got a bit to say on those things.  Allergy care may have to be another because I cannot stop sneezing and I've already taken a Zyrtec, so I may be buying up the allergen aisle soon.  Ugh!  I've decided to post the information most people would want to know in Green, so they don't have to read through the lengthy details, which are probably only interesting to me.

Anyway, this first review is on Viactiv Calcium Flavor Glide in Vanilla.
Rating: 10/10!!!
Summary:
    Pros:     Tastes great, pill is not huge, goes down easy.
    Cons:    Kinda pricey.  I got it on sale at the devil's playground (aka Walmart) for ~$5 for 60 pills.  I think it's    
                 normally only a dollar or two more.

Details (plus mini-review of Viactiv Soft Calcium Chews):
In college, I was the healthiest kid ever.  I rarely drank water and had a 3-coke a day habit.  Now by coke, I don't mean cocaine and honestly I don't really even mean coca-cola, as it was mostly Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb (Yum!).  After college, I dropped by a health fair where they did a bone density scan.  I was a -1.  I didn't think this was that bad, but the testers looked at me in horror.  Apparently, you shouldn't be a -1 at my age and really shouldn't be at -1 ever.  I'm still not entirely sure what a -1 means, except that maybe II am thisclose to death because this is the impression that I got.  Knowing that I would never have enough natural calcium in my diet to meet the recommended dosage, I began my foray into calcium supplements.

The first calcium supplements I tried were HUGE!  I finally understood what people meant by horse pills.  I'd always had trouble swallowing pills, even little ones, and these were the worst.  Since I couldn't get them down right away, they would start dissolving in my mouth and tasted horrible.  I gag just thinking about it.  I gave what is in my mind a valiant effort and tried chopping them in half.  I don't think I took more than 5 before I threw them in the trash  I then went out and bought a huge box of cereal because clearly I would have to start drinking more milk.

A few years later, I stumbled upon Viactiv's Soft Calcium Chews.  I thought this was the greatest idea ever.  It is my firm belief that all pills should taste like candy (I loved those Flintstone vitamins!).  I started on the chocolate, but when the novelty wore off, I realized that it didn't taste very great.  I then tried the caramel flavored chews, which were tastier than the chocolate, but still not that great.  Another problem with the chews is that they would get gooey if I had them in my purse or my pockets.  And it was kind of a pain to chew these things because they were so chewy, just like real caramels, but without the addictively yummy flavor.  Still these were the best option for me, but obviously not good enough because I have an untouched box of them sitting on my kitchen counter. 

I have a problem where I cannot resist a sale and so when I saw the Viactiv Glides on sale, I bought two.  I'm so skeptical of calcium products that I didn't touch it for a month.  Recently I've decided (again) that I need to supplement my diet.  I've been trying to eat as many Doritos as possible, but since they contain a shockingly low 2% of the daily recommended dose per serving, it was getting a bit expensive. 

Bottom Line:  I put the Viactiv to the test, letting it sit on my tongue for 10 seconds.  It tasted so good that I felt it was almost a shame to have to swallow it.  I double checked the bottle to make sure it wasn't some sort of chewable that I accidentally picked up, but no, you definitely swallow it.  I can't say that it really tasted like vanilla to me, but it did taste like yum and candy, and really that's all I care about.

Good news for upstairs neighbor: The bongo noise is not a malfunctioning water heater!
Good news for me: The bongo noise is not coming from upstairs neighbor, so I won't have to waste precious time burning things.
Bad news for high school band or still possibly Matt McC: I have heels and am not afraid to beat you with them if you do not stop making that noise outside my window.  That is all.

So I'm really not sure what I'm hoping for here.  Either there is something seriously wrong w/my upstairs neighbor's hot water heater or he/she has invested in a set of bongos. 

Maybe I'll hope that it's bongos, that he's Matthew Mcconaughey, and is naked again - not that I really desire to see that (not my type), but it'll make my life more interesting and that's almost  always a good thing. 

On the other hand, if I do decide that its bongos and it doesn't stop making that  noise, I'll be forced to burn things and turn on my bathroom fan (which, as I've noted before, I believe deposits it into his/her apartment) and that is going to interfere with my study time.

Have you ever seen Practical Magic?  It stars Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman as witches cursed in love.  As little girls they learn of the family's unfortunate history with love, but Sandy ignores it and falls hard anyway.  Then she hears a beetle in her home and this is bad.  Bad because to Sandy, it is the sound that signals death. 

I am totally hearing that beetle right now.  It's in my ceiling.  No, I don't know how it got there.  And while part of me wants to get a hammer to bust a hole through the ceiling and find the sucker so that it's creepy sounds stop annoying me and the perfect silence I enjoy whilst studying, I'm not gonna.  And I'm not gonna for several reasons, one of which is that I watch too much CSI.  My skin has been going crazy pretty much since I moved into my apartment.  I'm not sure why, but not too long ago my BF floated the idea that I could be allergic to something in it.  And I definitely feel like I could be allergic to the rotting remains of a corpse craftily hidden in the walls.  Not that I know there is such a thing lurking beneath the drywall, but that's really the point.  I don't know it's there and I'm happy with that lack of knowledge.  Although if there is a beetle there, that does go to support the dead corpse theory, as I've learned from CSI there are some beetles which feast on decaying flesh.  *Shudder*

I decided to have pizza for lunch.  I knew this was going to be a problem since the place I wanted it from is one of those "by the slice" places.  It's decent, cheap and fast.  But I HATE ordering from them.  The last time I went there, I ended up with a spinach calzone instead of my slice of pepperoni.  I live outside of a 10 minute radius of anything fast to eat, so that meant that I had to drive 10 minutes there, wait 10 minutes for the pizza (could have been less, felt like 1000 minutes), and then drive it back.  Twice since I had to return the calzone.  I just was not in the mood for spinach that day.  And if Mo tells you anything, she'll tell you that I am notorious for not settling at meal time.  If I want something, I get it.  Regardless of drive time.  I once made Mo drive for well over an hour into "the city" to get kababs....at midnight...without directions.  Well, we kind of had directions from my BF, but only after much whining by me about how his first suggestion (that we ask for directions from STRANGERS on how to get to the nearby STRIP CLUB when we, two gals, were driving at midnight) was a BAD idea.  I thought I was being subtle about wanting to eat there, but I was later told that no, I was not.

Despite the last mishap, I decided to get pizza from the joint again.  To be fair, last time was partially my fault.  I should have checked the box before I left.  I mean, I do it at the drive through at McD's and not just because they once asked my friend if she wanted cheese on her chicken nuggets (another story, another time).  I should check everywhere to make sure my order is correct.

I cleverly thought that if I told the dude not to heat up the pizza that would prevent another mix up.  And it did.  At this point, I would usually say: I win!  But no.  I took the pizza home and heated up the oven to heat up the slice.   If you've read an earlier post you know that I suffer from a debilitating condition called the Impatience.  The last time I baked something in that oven, it took nearly half an hour to reach 400 degrees.  I could not wait that long.  I decided that the only reason why they heat up the pizza is to remelt the cheese.  So I put it on broil.  Yes.  I think you see where this is going now. 

I know that broil is a deceptive, sneaky thing.  One minute something is ice cold, five seconds later it is burnt.  I kept a close eye on it for the first 5 minutes.  Nothing happened and then my condition struck.  I walked away.  Ten seconds later I smell burning.  I ran to the oven, threw it open and black smoke billowed up at me.  I thrust my hands into the oven sans glove (tsk!) and rescued my victim.  Alas, it was too late and amputations were necessary.  I turned on the fan, which is part of the microwave above the oven, to get the smoke out of my apartment.  A long while later my fire alarm begins to make sounds of distress.  I am alarmed since my apartment is equipped with sprinklers.  And while I am not yet sure what level of heat is necessary to set them off, I am sure that I have an apartment full of electronics that I don't want soaked.  I run over to the oven again.  And that is when I notice the design of the fan.  Although I previously noticed that it was attached to the microwave and that it sucked air from the bottom and that there were vents at the top, I never really put it together.  Unbelieving that someone would design something so stupid, I put my hand up to the upper vents, the ones aimed at my ceiling, where my fire alarm is.  And yes, the fan was taking the smoke from the oven and blowing it right into the smoke alarm!!!!!  Are you serious?! 

Now you may be saying to yourself, "Well, this seems like your fault."  And to you, I say: "I haven't eaten today yet.  I would back away slowly, no sudden movements, because you....you are looking like a big slice of dancing bacon to me."

Luckily this story has a happy ending.  I realized that my bathroom fan does take air OUT of the apartment and in all likelihood deposits it in my upstairs neighbor's apartment.  Take that lady who walks in heels on the tile floor continuously for 2 hours on a Sunday morning and who I'm 98% sure lets their dog do his business on the patio above mine.  Excuse me while I go burn some more things.  I win!

So I'm not really sure why, but I'm addicted to this show on TLC called Jon and Kate plus Eight.  It's about a family who is busy raising their seven year old twins and three year old SEXTUPLETS!  Yeah, sextuplets.  As in six children who are all the same age.  Six children who all are in diapers.  Six children who all need to be potty trained.  Six children who are vomiting.  AT THE SAME TIME!!!!  Even more amazing, the parents are still alive!!

I watch it because I love to try to tell the babies apart. It's probably pretty easy for those who have better facial recognition skills than I.  My ability to forget a face makes me a perfect candidate for you to rob me - I will never be able to identify you.  And even if I somehow get your hair color right, height and weight mean nothing to me.  I can never guess how tall someone is or how much they weigh.  The joke, however, is on you.  I'm a student, so I carry no cash, my credit cards are already maxed out, and my debit cards?  Hahahaha!  The most valuable thing I have in my pocket are quarters, which I use to make sure they don't tow my car by dutifully placing them in a meter.  Really you'd be doing me a favor by taking them because that would give me an excuse not to go to "work."  (Quotes = no pay).

Back to the show.  As you can imagine with eight kids, there is always someone screaming in the background.  It reminds me of why I can't have kids.  Before anyone gets the idea that I hate kids and am an evil person, I have to state that you are only half right.  I may be evil, but I love kids and so I bless them by not raising them.  Trust me, it would be a disaster.  I'm too selfish, clueless, lazy and just plain not equipped. 

So the screaming is why my BF won't watch the show with me (plus, it's a TLC show about kids) and the screaming is what I point out to him about why I can't have the children.  I know I would totally hand the father of the child/my mother/friend/nearby stranger the screaming child and say: "I'm only here for 'Kids say the darndest things' moments.  Give me a ring when it stops making that horrible noise."   The other bad thing I would do as a parent is I would totally choose a favorite. 

And I've totally chosen a favorite on the show amongst the sextuplets - Alexis.  For some reason, I took to her and related with her cute little personality.  And despite my aversion to the screaming, she is actually the loudest screamer of the six...seriously.  The loud factor has been confirmed by both parents and the crew of the show, as well as my ears.  I made my "favorite" determination over a series of episodes, but her status as my favorite was solidified with the most recent episode I saw where I learned that her nickname was Sassy.  I've both been called that and described as such, this made me relate even more to little Alexis.  Later in the episode, her mother said of her: "Alexis is very passionate."  I felt strangely flattered at this description, as I said I related to little Alexis, so this reflected on me as well.  I must be a passionate person, that explains so much.  Her mother then continued: "If she wants something, she will beat someone to get it." 

Damn straight.  How could my mini-me be any other way?

So I got sick about two weeks ago and it was a sickness unlike any I had previously experienced.  It made me lose my religion - food.  The sickness made me lose my sense of smell and taste.

The revelation of loss of smell:

Buy Vicks vaporub to help with incessant coughing and congestion.  Open it, slather it on, think: "Huh...that's weird.  There's no smell.  They must have developed a non-smelling Vicks for people who hate that menthol smell.  Cool."
Keep slathering it on for that tingly feeling. 

BF gets close and nose wrinkles.  My suspicions are aroused:  "J, does this smell?"

J: "Uh, yeah."  Laughs.

The revelation of loss of taste:

Two days after my loss of smell:  "Crap, I don't think I can taste my food.  Ugh.  This is the worst day ever."

Two days after my discovery of my loss of taste: 
J orders a delicious looking Chocolate and Peanut Butter cake. 
J: "This cake is amazing!  You have to try it.  It is so good!"
Me: "There's no point.  It would be a waste, I can't taste anything."
J: "No, no.  You HAVE to try it!"
I try it.  It feels wonderful.  By the texture, I can tell that this is one delicious cake.  The cake part feels moist and light; the frosting is smooth on my tongue.  I can almost taste its wonderfulness.
Me: "So is the cakey part peanut buttery or is it the frosting that's peanut buttery?" 
Worst day ever.

Aftermath:

I have my sense of taste and smell back, but my appetite is gone and am too lethargic to cook for myself or go out and get food.  Luckily I had a can of Pillsbury Extra-Large Butter Crescent Rolls, which I ate for lunch and dinner (shocking how I got sick with such a healthy diet).  Saved my life.  AND!  I can now taste butter!  I love butter!  Not the worst day ever.

So I have this condition called paranoia.  And all the articles on identity theft and hackers didn't really help the situation.  "They" (those who know better than I do) recommend that I have different passwords for everything.  "They" also recommend that I don't write down these passwords and that the passwords be difficult for others to guess and includes characters and numbers.  I don't think that "they" know how many different things I need a password for. 

Very Small List of things I need a password/number for:
Bank account/atm card
Online bill pay
Amazon
iTunes
imdb
youtube
Emails
AIM

This small list doesn't include the random places I go on the internets and find that I need a password to access a message board or some other nonsense.   Amazingly, I somehow actually have a different password for EVERY single account I have ever opened.  This includes this VOX account and my 5 different email accounts.  Why do I have 5 different email accounts?  I have this condition - it's called paranoia. 

In addition, I followed "their" advice and made my passwords difficult to guess.  So difficult that I regularly forget my own passwords.  And this is why I have not updated this page in almost a year. 

Around May I got involved in taking exams, then I was thrown into a whirlwind of a writing competition, trying to transfer schools, go abroad for the summer and other such nonsense.  When I finally decided to go back to Vox, my computer had deleted my password from its memory. 

Here I pause.  I know you are shocked that I actually saved my Vox password to my computer (checked that little box that said "Keep me logged in" or "Remember password").  After all, saving passwords doesn't really comport with my condition ("the paranoia").  But I haven't told you about my other condition - it's called "the impatience".  Do you know how long it takes to reset a password, especially when you are so paranoid that you made the "secret answer" hard to remember thus defeating the purpose of the "secret answer"?  (Wow, there are a lot of quotation marks going on in this entry.)  Anyway, it takes a while and may, in some cases, NEVER be reset resulting in a very frustrating gmail situation.  Ahem...well, I decided that for some sites, such as those frequently visited, I would just remain logged on since no one uses my computer but me.  Plus!  If I were away from my computer, no worries.  It is password protected!  Mwa-ha-ha.

So without my computer to remember my password, I tried to get it sent to my email.  Unfortunately, I made an email specifically for this blog so I wouldn't get mixed up with my other emails and I also didn't know back then if signing up for Vox would dramatically increase my rate of spam - the paranoia strikes again!  (Note: It did not cause me to get spammed.  But in a Puck-like twist, something else I signed up for dramatically increased the spam in the email box in which I was trying to prevent spam).  Since I prefaced the email creation comment with "unfortunately," you might have guessed that I also forgot that password. 

I've tried numerous times to try to break into both my Vox account and my email account.  Tonight I triumph!  While I will never get into that gmail account (tragic because it was created so that I could consolidate all email accounts into one professional sounding email account) - I am back on Vox.  My return to Vox is a good thing because I really needed something else to take up my time now that Fashion Runway is over. Actually doing school work is not an attractive option.  I lack the condition called "the motivation."

PS.  So cannot believe it is 5:30am right now.  Damn my main condition - it's called "the crazy."

I heart fake sugar.  I know it's going to try to kill me, but it's going to have to beat out some pretty hefty competition to do so.  Personally, I put my bets on me getting "the cancer" from Cheetoes (c'mon, that neon orange color only exists in nature on the world's most venomous creatures...you know that just ain't right). 

Anyway, as I was saying: I heart fake sugar.  It makes things sweeter faster and I heart sweet.  I grew up on ice tea that was basically like drinking pure sugar.  So now that I know better, I use fake sugar.  After all, if I wanted to drink a cup full of sugar, I'd drink Wild Cherry Pepsi (yum!). 

I had dinner at Chick-fil-a tonight and because I don't really like fountain sodas (they can never seem to get the mixture right), I got an ice tea with my meal.  I didn't want to hassle the drive-thru guy for fake sugar, so I defeated the purpose of driving through and went inside for my fake sugar. 

I was immediately greeted by an employee who asked if I needed help.  I assured him that I did not need to exchange my drink and I was just getting some sugar.  Sigh.  I should know better.  I know that I am to never assure anyone of anything because I am followed around by a little Puck (it ain't a coincidence that his name rhymes with a different four letter word).  Puck, if you'll remember from Shakespeare, enjoys causing mischief.  I'd like to say that we have a symbiotic relationship, but we don't.  I basically live my life to amuse him.  I say or expect things and the exact opposite happens.  That is why I am such a freakin' goody two-shoes, you cannot even imagine the things I have planned when I finally ditch Puck (you know that spot where everyone parks, even though it says "Will Tow at Owner's Expense," and no one has EVER been towed?  Well, that is the first place I am parking when I get rid of this little F...Puck)

So, yeah.  I was wrong about needing to exchange the drink.  Before I put in my sugar, it struck me that the drive-thru guy never asked me if I wanted Sweet Tea or Unsweetened Tea, so I took a sip.  Ick!  It had real  sugar in it!!  Oh, no!  I could not have that.  So I went up to the employee who had greeted me, the guy that I had lied to.

Me:  Hi, I'm really sorry about this, but I am going to have to exchange this drink.  I wanted regular tea, but this is sweet tea.

Him:  You want regular tea?

Me:  Yes, I want regular tea.  I don't want sweet tea.

Him:  You want diet tea?

Me: Ah, no.  (I've never heard of diet tea).  I want regular tea.

Him:  Regular tea is sweet.

Me:  Okay, well, I don't want sweet tea.

Him:  Do you want a new cup and lid?

Me (confused):  Um, I don't really care.  I just would like some regular tea, not sweet.

Him (confused):  Okay, not sweet tea.  (He takes the lid off my cup and is about to pour out the sweet tea).  Wait, did you taste this?

Me (having not eaten in 8 hours and just wanting some freakin' regular, REGULAR NOT SWEET ice tea!!!): 
Uh, yeah.  That's how I knew it was sweet tea.

Ultimately, he was no match for me (few men are, bless their hearts) and I emerged more or less victorious with my Regular Ice Tea sweetened with fake sugar. 

Note for the humanitarians:  I did consider doing the humane thing and not pouring my mixture of 6 packets of Equal and Splenda into the Tea while he was watching, but like I said, I had not eaten in 8 hours, so being humane was pretty low on my list of things to do.  I apologize to the world, because I am sure that did not help him figure out the difference b/w regular and sweet tea.  There should be training classes for Chick-fil-as that are located outside the South.