Calorie Wise

Who can you trust when it comes to labeling the calorie content of food? Who makes sure the labels are accurate? What constitutes ''healthy'' food?

Here's a 5-minute, unscientific demonstration:

It's Too Late To Apologize

If the shoe fits...

It started slow, then built up to something really nice. It didn't take too long. A castle made of Trust.

But I stayed at that pace, and you wanted more, bigger, faster. Your expectations were enormous, and I really wanted to fulfill them, and if I'd tried harder, I probably could've, but I got cocky.

I basked in the glory of ''Public Me'' and let him come into our home, or whatever it was that we had, and I thought there was no problem big enough that Love couldn't take care of, that Trust couldn't cast aside, and I thought you'd feel the same way. For a long time.

And it was a long time, really. You were patient, you were vocal enough. I just thought I could have it All, whenever I wanted it. But you had your own version of time as well, and sometimes our times didn't match.

It could have ended then and there, peacefully, and I'd be here apologizing. Not to make it better, not so you'd come back - more to let you know: I understand.

And it would have been nice. Memories are meant to be remembered, to be a place to go back to and reminisce about and to want to revisit.



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But for girls, I guess, when shit goes South, you just can't let it go. You blame yourselves and try to find a way to blame others, to not have to bear the weight of The End on your own, not understanding that The End can be nice, good, mutual, respectful; Trust and Common Sense and Intelligence makes way to Illusions and Deception, and that's when you cross the line, open emails, open mail, stalk, sift through personal files...

And you're just more pissed off when you don't find anything substantial, or anything more than circumstantial. But it's Too Late, because now you've crossed a line I can never forgive.

It wasn't your fault to begin with, it was circumstance, happenstance, lack of chance... but now it is, and there's no going back.

I almost want to not say I'm sorry for playing it too cool, for not being showy enough, for not spending every waking minute with you if you so desired, for a lack of consistency in the frequency of the display of affection. I almost want to tell you off instead, call you names, and shut the door on you forever.

But that's not who I am.

Cheated Hearts

Cheated by the opposite of love
Held on high from up, up, up above
Kept my high from the second one
Kept my eye on the first one

Now take these rings and stow them safe away
Wear them on another rainy day
Take these rings and stow them safe away
Wear them on another rainy day

- The Yeah Yeah Yeahs

I'm probably going to be singing this one tonight. It's kind of the flip-side to their other song 'Maps', but where 'Maps' is about the beauty of the beginning of a relationship, 'Cheated Hearts' is where it all goes sour, the downfall, whether it's fast or slow, whether there was 'actual' cheating or if the whole thing feels like a sham, whether it's a lack of trust both ways or just loss of enjoyment.

I was listening to both songs on my way to work today (it was the 'random' feature, not a Yeah Yeah Yeahs trip), and I thought about combining both as a medley for tonight's show, with one segueing into the other, but it turns out 'Maps' is harder to flesh out chords that fit with my voice to accompany it, so it'll be the other song alone.

It's somewhat fitting that a stroke of coincidence would make it so, though, because 'cheating' was a topic that came up today at work - I have to add that we're all friends, and all relatively close, so we know things would never leave the confines of ''secrecy'', if anything was to be kept silent.

Anyhow, we got to talking about a couple of friends, who happened to have been a couple at some point, as well as both having worked at the same place I'm at now, and how one of them (the guy) had, indeed, cheated on his ladies - numerous times, on numerous ladies, with numerous ladies. He was a Pussy Hunter. He claims, however, that this particular time, with this particular girl, it just wasn't the case. She had imagined it by going through his emails and past Facebook comments for the past 4 years, and he considered it the worst breach of trust he'd ever witnessed (the girls he's cheated on might argue otherwise, but that just adds to the fun of being a spectator in this one).

Now, I've had both done to me: cheating, and going through emails, Facebook comments, she even went through every single file on my computer. I'll agree that one is more invasive than the other, and that because the one doing the searching is actually looking for evidence, they might believe that what they see is evidence because it seems odd to them (for example, having a life-long friend in Copenhagen, Denmark say they'll ''help keep you up all night'' because it's daytime there and it's night time here, and I have to stay up for the night, and it's no burden to them to write once in a while - because they're up anyway - might look bad, if it weren't for who the sender is).

Hunter's attitude, anyway, now, is that if His Lady (or Next Lady) were to do that to him, it'd be over right then and there - ''move out, fuck off, and I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore'' is how he put it.

I'm not so sure I'm that cut-and-dry about it, myself. I'm not saying I'd let it slide totally, and I know I'd be pissed off (especially if she'd read this post beforehand), but I let it happen with The Lady of The House a few times already, and I'm not sure I wouldn't again - I haven't put a new password on the computer or anything. But it does feel like a major breach of trust every time, though.

I guess it depends what you want to base your relationship on. Me, it's Trust. But I still think a Soiled Vagina (especially if I'm dipping in it when it's still inhabited by someone else's leftovers) is more serious than a Breach Of Security In The Mail Room. I think. That's the thing with shit, and shitty situations: you can never be sure until it happens. But you can imagine.