cocaine in a can?

check out this MSN headline about 7-eleven taking "Cocaine" off its shelves, "[an energy] drink with a suggestive name and provocative branding":

7-eleven yanks 'Cocaine' drink

i'm not sure how i feel about this! first of all, allow me to admit that i've never been a big energy drink drinker. i just don't like the taste. theraflu, tab, red bull...they're all the same to me - gross. granted, i haven't tried every energy drink out there, and i never will, given that there's literally hundreds in existence.

but i get the draw. i get it. while coffee, at least as of 1.5 years ago when i was still in high school, is the morning pick-me-up of choice, those little brown beans and all that cream (which is so going to be the demise of all you french vanilla extra extra's out there, you know who you are!) don't give kids nearly as big of a jolt as they are looking for. no, these days, coffee is for amateurs. instead of an adrenaline rush that resembles that of billy butcherson rising from the dead, they want a full-blown jekyll/hyde experience (jason flemyng, anyone?).

now about this cocaine drink. in case you didn't feel like reading the whole story on MSN, the writer reports, "Cocaine comes in red cans, with the name spelled out in what are meant to resemble lines of white powder. According to the label, each 8.4-fluid ounce can contains 280 milligrams of caffeine -- more jolt than a cup of coffee, a can of Coca-Cola or the leading energy drink, Red Bull -- but no actual cocaine."

280 milligrams of caffeine - that's more than 3x the amount that most energy drinks have. try that one on for size. but the most controversial aspect of this drink is, of course, its name. the article states that Cocaine is made by Redux Beverages of Las Vegas, which markets it as "the legal alternative." repeating my first comment, i'm not sure how i feel about this.

while i agree that the name suggests a nasty habit, and that that much caffeine in your system has the potential of causing more harm than good, i don't think redux beverages were out to condone the drug addiction at all. i believe their hope was exactly as they claimed, a 'healthy' alternative. and in that, i guess i would much rather see kids drinking energy drinks, regardless of what they're called, than taking cocaine, or any other drug for that matter. but on the same token, caffeine is addictive too, and getting hooked on these shock-inducing drinks is no doubt worse than getting hooked on coffee, which already has both rumored and proven side effects that i for one could live without (it hasn't stopped me from drinking it though).

i guess i'm kind of stuck on this issue. i'd like to hear your thoughts. what is your take on energy drinks? and what about this new brand called Cocaine? do you think it's okay to target an audience the way redux has?

what the three musketeers have to do with toothpaste

You might be skeptical about my ability to prove that the three musketeers and toothpaste are related. But let me assure you, I am the queen of relativity. In fact, I am willing to bet the change in my pocket that you couldn't come up with two subjects (heck, make it three) that I couldn't prove are related in one way or another. Just try me.

But (thank God) this isn't physics class, so unless your name is Einstein I won't waste another minute of our time. Moving on to the point of this blog.

Toothpaste. Why, in the name of all that is holy, are there so many different kinds of toothpaste? We've got whitening toothpaste, Anti-bacterial toothpaste, tartar control toothpaste, purifying toothpaste (whatever that means), oxygenating toothpaste (again, whatever that means), acticavity toothpaste, banish-bad-breath-forever toothpaste, luminating toothpaste, and a whole slew of companies that claim their toothpaste is "advanced."

Why can there not just be ONE toothpaste that covers everything? Are there really people out there that stand in the personal hygiene aisle saying, "I want to prevent cavities, but I don't care if my teeth are yellow", or "I want to get rid of my bad breath, but I'd like to keep my tartar"? Or do all the Colgates and Crests of the world expect us to buy every type of toothpaste and rotate our tooth decay prevention attempts nightly? Monday we'll fight gingivitis, Tuesday we'll wage war against halitosis.

Maybe I'm just a raving lunatic, or maybe I really do have a point here. In the words of three wise men who clearly understand my distress: "One for all, and all for one!" (From now on, you won't think twice about your confidence in my relational abilities, will you?)

*10,000 points to whoever figured out that I concocted this blog while looking for toothpaste at Wal-Mart.

i no longer fear jack nicholson

I want the world to know this. If I could, I would stand up on the highest rooftop and proclaim in honor of the great Mackaulay Culkin, "Hey, I'm not afraid anymore! I SAID...I'm not afraid anymore!!". Yes, if I could, I would definitely do that. There are only two reasons why I'm actually not going to do that: 1. It's midnight and while I honestly believe that my message is so important that it would totally be worth waking up all the neighbors, I don't think they'd be at all in the right frame of mind to listen to what I have to say, and 2. I live in a small town, far, far away from the bigger cities that would probably benefit on a much greater scale from hearing my testimony.

I'm not sure when my phobia of Jack Nicholson started, but I suppose it was when I was far too young to see a movie like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (rapists, insane asylums and nurses resembling satan practicing cruel and unusual forms of passive agression weren't really my cup of tea back in the days of one-inch margins and Dunkaroos), and yet my parents allowed me to watch it with them anyway. What did I know? I figured it was a movie about birds.

Let me tell you, from the moment I saw his face, that crooked grin filled with yellowed teeth and pointy eyebrows struck terror in my little heart like nothing I have ever known. The fact that the movie was definitely not about birds after all didn't help matters. The movie, while in the opinion of the general public is referred to as a classic, gave me nightmares for weeks.

I never wanted to see another Jack Nicholson movie again. My parents could not accept this. My mother insisted that I sit and watch As Good As It Gets with her on TV one day, and I have to be honest...at a time when I hardly even understood what being gay meant, I was totally unprepared for the role Greg Kinnear played, and then of course there was the man with the evil clown face (did I mention I'm afraid of clowns, too?)...Jack Nicholson. Oh, what a loser. In the movie, I mean. I just hated his guts. Ugly, cocky, condescending, chauvenistic (and I am not a feminist!)...he was a complete pig. I just wanted to punch him. (The only perk in the whole movie was, of course, the lovely Helen Hunt, whom I love!)

That's when I swore I'd never see another Jack Nicholson movie! Nobody would force me! And when I want to, I have amaaaazing willpower. People tried to snap through it, especially my husband, who oh-so-kindly liked (and still likes) to cross his eyes and fake a big grin with an overbite, spread out his arms and threaten me, "Heeeeeere's Johnny!!". To this day, I am proud to say, despite my husband's consistent harassment, I have not seen The Shining. I've seen trailers, and that was enough. Nothankyou. Now, I have to admit, I have seen Anger Management, which I thought was mostly pretty funny, although watching this man, who for me evokes horrible memories of watching Gremlins, sing "I Feel Pretty" was definitely scary. But oh, when you get to the end of the movie and find out the plot's twist...it was the final straw. Even though Jack was just acting, it was him I was repulsed by. I didn't know WHO could stand him or HOW.

But I've been through rehab. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I gathered up all that infamous willpower of mine and on this day forced myself to sit down and watch a whopping two full hours of Jack Nicholson's E! True Hollywood Story. I didn't think I could make it through to the end, but I prevailed and I was darn proud of myself for it. I learned a whole lot more about Jack Nicholson than I cared to, and realized that he really doesn't sleep with that Joker mask plastered to his face as I'd feared (or at least, the segment didn't say so...) and that he's just as human as the rest of us. I learned that he grew up in a small town in New Jersey and that one of his sisters turned out to be his mother and that he's actually a very generous man, and a good father.

And you know what else I realized? I am never going to meet him. So no matter how badly his face freaks me out, and no matter what kind of wacky character he plays on the big screen, it doesn't matter! I'm safe. And I am not afraid of him anymore.

catch and release

On my way home today, I felt the need to write, my fingers literally itching in anticipation. But my creative juices refused to flow, and then I realized that what was in me was not anything creative at all. It was a need to spill out my emotions. A need for release.

What a funny word, "release". It seems strange to me that I am needing it so badly when all I have done for the last four months is release things, and each time I have completely fallen apart.

I went to Colombia and became a different person because of the children there, a person who was overwhelmed to find out that who I'd grown up to believe I was, was really not me at all. I was stronger, more powerful, more compassionate, more selfless, more brazen than I gave myself credit for. I realized that I could sacrifice a lot, and not just if I had to, but so willingly that I could give up all I know in a heartbeat. I realized that I could love someone enough to die for them. I saw God, I saw how big He was, I saw His amazing love. I was humbled one moment and honored the next, honored that God would use me for a purpose so fragile and precious...and then came the release. I had to leave, say goodbye to thirty little faces maybe smiling, but still so full of desperation for love, acceptance, and hope. I had to get on that plane and go home...but what was home?...with a heart refusing to just chalk it all up to another life experience, my emotions a mess as I pleaded with God that that wouldn't be the case.

I relished in my at-home job, because it allowed me more time than ever to play with my dog and appreciate every detail of him. My dog, who helped me out of depression and taught me over the years why they call dogs "man's best friend." They never judge, never gossip, never control, never want anything but to love you. And then, despite all my procrastinating and trying to find ways to make it work, I had to give him away. As pathetic as it sounds, giving him away was like giving away my child. I felt like I had failed him, and still want him back despite knowing what we did was for the best.

Release. The action is supposed to bring comfort, relief, make you feel lighter. Yet all it has done is burden me. And now here I am, seeking that same word, but in a different way.

I am desperate for God to relieve me. I want to release my burdens, my fears, my concerns, my hopes, my dreams, my anxiety. I want to place it all at His feet, and go back to that place I found in Colombia, content with nothing and feeling like the wealthiest person on earth, a girl not only comfortable with who she was, but knowing that in that moment she was exactly who God wanted her to be, doing exactly what He called her to do.

How do I get to that place? I write to the children, knowing they can't write back but hoping the small window of connection will bless them and at the same time keep me sane. I talk to the family who adopted my dog, a wonderful family who will give him everything he deserves, and pray a special blessing on them for blessing us in a way that they may never know the extent of. And I work, and I try to be a good wife, and I try to be a good friend, and I live by two rules: No compromise, and No regrets.

But I long to go deeper. Quality, not quantity. Am I living my life to the fullest, and what does that mean exactly? Am I walking the path that God created just for me? If I died tonight, what would people say about me, and how would heaven judge me?

Catch and release. When I catch something, whether it's good like a vision or a longing, or bad like a fear or a burden, I need to release it to God. Catching it's easy, but releasing is much, much harder.

Bottom line: I am still, and always will be, a work in progress.