Don't Worry...Eat Healthy

[allthumbs]

Q: What's the secret to healthy eating?

A: Thicker gravy.

[allthumbs]

Q: I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?

A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it, don't piss them away on exercise. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.

[chucK]

Your cells constantly break down and your body builds more to take their place. As one ages this rebuilding function starts to slow down. One way to slow the inevitable deterioration that comes with ageing is to is to boost the longevity of your individual cells. A way to do this is to infuse maximal amounts of preservatives by following a diet heavy in preservative-laden foods like twinkies and processed lunchmeat. People over 35 should pour sodium benzoate in their beer.

That's what I heard.

[hikerwa]

I agree with the preservative intake, and would take that point further...Lubrication.

Muscles need lubrication to move efficiently, therefore a diet rich in preservatives and Greasy foods is ideal. For example, if a person eats 2 sausage egg mcmuffins, and several hashbrown cakes, all greasy, and then complements this meal with the two for one apple (or cherry pies) all the requirements are met, for breakfast anyway. If this is carried through the day (I use McDonalds as an example only) a person could theoretically live forever.

sean

[allthumbs]

Speaking of beer:

Q: Is beer or wine bad for me?

A: Look, it goes to the earlier point about fruits and vegetables. As we all know, scientists divide everything in the world into three categories: animal, mineral, and vegetable. We all know that beer and wine are not animal, and they are not on the periodic table of elements, so that only leaves one thing, right? My advice: Have a burger and a beer and enjoy your liquid vegetables.

[chucK]

Five servings a day!!!

[ 03-12-2002: Message edited by: chucK ]

[Brock_Landers]

I never understood why Americans eat salad before the main course. Since salad basically sucks, the main point of it must be to give yer innards a good scrubbing. The Euros know best -- eat yer salad last, so that it can clean out all the crap you just ate. Its basic physics.

[Beck]

and "Guiness is good for you" isn't it true that a pregnant woman in Ireland gets free Guiness because of all the vitamins in it?

I think that grease/lube/joint connection is right on the money, also gives me an excuse to super size my fries because I take the ones I can't eat and apply them topically to my knees before going skiing, you can just mash them into a poultice and smear them on the affected areas underneath your longjohns. Also comes in handy as extra food for unplanned bivies.

[ 03-14-2002: Message edited by: Beck ]

[Dru]

quote:

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Originally posted by avypoodle:

speaking of healthy food......I would like to ask Dru, what the hell is wrong with your guys up there? Poutine? I am all for greasy food, but you guys are taking the shit way over the top!!!

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it is colder up here in the frozen North. so we gotta eat more fat. we burn more too. you guys (80% overweight and 60% obese or something) need some cold weather down there to burn off that lard.

[avypoodle]

Your welcome [ 03-15-2002: Message edited by: avypoodle ]

[ 03-18-2002: Message edited by: avypoodle ]

[Dru]

quote:

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Originally posted by avypoodle:

[ 03-15-2002: Message edited by: avypoodle ]

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Thanks for sharing.

[allthumbs]

What the hell is poutine? Don't you mean poontang? I love poontang...try to eat it at least twice a week. It's nutritious and non-fattening. Try it...you'll like it!

[philfort]

Poutine is a culinary delicacy exported from Quebec, consisting of french fries topped with cheese curds and gravy. Or you can get it "Au Michigan", and that's with a tomato meet sauce instead of gravy.

Usually the first half of your plate is delicious, then the last half becomes revolting.

[Dru]

quote:

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Originally posted by philfort:

Poutine is a culinary delicacy exported from Quebec, consisting of french fries topped with cheese curds and gravy. Or you can get it "Au Michigan", and that's with a tomato meet sauce instead of gravy.Usually the first half of your plate is delicious, then the last half becomes revolting.

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tomato meet?

[philfort]

quote:

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Originally posted by Dru:

tomato meet?

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sorRY, hi don't know 'ow to spell hin henglish.

[Dru]

whatever happened to the flashing Beckey sig, fortier?

[philfort]

That would be one for Jon and Tim to answer, since it's still in my profile. Where IS my @#$@#@!@#$ beckey???!!??

[philfort]

Oh sure.. NOW it appears.... WTF??

[gregm]

sigs come and go

talking of michelangelo

[Dru]

quote:

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Originally posted by gregm:

sigs come and gotalking of michelangelo

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what a poet. or are you just high?

[gregm]

let us go then you and i

when the evening is spread out against the sky

[Dru]

quote:

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Originally posted by gregm:

let us go then you and iwhen the evening is spread out against the sky

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and the moon in june resembles a baboonthat cant carry a tuneso bring your spoon and we will croona sorry tale about a prune...

[gregm]

you uneducated canucks...

Let us go then, you and I,When the evening is spread out against the skyLike a patient etherised upon a table;Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,The muttering retreatsOf restless nights in one-night cheap hotelsAnd sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:Streets that follow like a tedious argumentOf insidious intentTo lead you to an overwhelming question...Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and goTalking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs it back upon the window-panes,The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panesLicked its tongue into the corners of the evening,Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,And seeing that it was a soft October night,Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be timeFor the yellow smoke that slides along the streetRubbing its back upon the window-panes;There will be time, there will be timeTo prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;There will be time to murder and create,And time for all the works and days of handsThat lift and drop a question on your plate;Time for you and time for me,And time yet for a hundred indecisions,And for a hundred visions and revisions,Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and goTalking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be timeTo wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'Time to turn back and descend the stair,With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!')My morning coat, my collar mouting firmly to the chin,My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--(They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!')Do I dareDisturb the universe?In a minute there is timeFor decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all--Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;I know the voices dying with a dying fallBeneath the music from a farther room.So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,Then how should I beginTo spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all--Arms that are braceleted and white and bare(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!) Is it perfume froma dressThat makes me so digress?Arms that lie along a table, wrap about a shawl.And should I then presume?And how should I begin?

* * * * * * * * *

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streetsAnd watched the smoke that rises from the pipesOf lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged clawsScuttling across the floors of silent seas.

* * * * * * * * *

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,Asleep ...tired... or it malingers,Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald)brought in upon a platter,I am no prophet -- and here's no great matter;I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat,

and snicker,And in short, I was afraid.And would it have been worth it, after all,After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,Would it have been worth while,To have bitten off the matter with a smile,To have squeezed the universe into a ballTo roll it towards some overwhelming question,To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all' --If one, settling a pillow by her head,Should say: 'That's not what I meant at all.That is not it, at all.'

And would it have been worth it, after all,Would it have been worth while,After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail alongthe floor --And this, and so much more? --It is impossible to say just what I mean!But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:Would it have been worthwhileIf one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,And turning toward the window, should say:'That is not it at all,That is not what I meant, at all.'

* * * * * * * * *

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;Am an attendant lord, one that will doTo swell a progress, start a scene or two,Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,Deferential, glad to be of use,Politic, cautious, and meticulous;Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;At times, indeed, almost ridiculous --Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old... I grow old ...I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?I shall war white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the wavesCombing the white hair of the waves blown backWhen the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the seaBy sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brownTill human voices wake us and we drown.

"Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" - T.S. Elliot

[allthumbs]

'Twas brillig, and the slithy tovesDid gyre and gimble in the wabe;All mimsy were the borogoves,And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!Beware the Jubjub bird, and shunThe frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:Long time the manxome foe he sought--So rested he by the Tumtum tree,And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and throughThe vorpal blade went snicker-snack!He left it dead, and with its headHe went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?Come to my arms, my beamish boy!O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy tovesDid gyre and gimble in the wabe;All mimsy were the borogoves,And the mome raths outgrabe.

Lewis Carrol

[ 03-15-2002: Message edited by: trask ]

[gregm]

jabberwocky - lewis carol