Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Green vs. Clean

Last week, I cleaned out my parents' outdoor garbage cans/waste bins. There were three, and I will list them in order of disgustingness with the least disgusting first.

3. The garbage can
2. The recycling bin
1. The green waste recycling bin

All of the bins had been emptied earlier that day, and green waste won hands down for both foul odor and lingering sludge. It also attracted flies. Before I could clean the green waste bin, I had to scrape three inches of sludge (which looked and smelled like manure) out of the bottom of the can with a long-handled spade.

The regular garbage can, on the other hand, had a few stray plastic bags stuck to the bottom and some colorful splatters all around. It did not attract flies, and I was able to sweep out the debris with a broom.

This event reminded me of a question that often creeps into my thoughts when I consider green options: Is it clean?

(Because green waste recycling is definitely not.)

I don't consider myself to be a germaphobe--far from it, in fact, since I totally believe in the 3-second rule (or is 30?), share my food and drinks with anyone, and occasionally wear clothes out of the hamper. But when I look at green cleaning products I notice a lack of disinfecting promises. While my traditional Scrubbing Bubbles bathroom cleaner kills a certain percentage of germs lurking around my toilet, my Clorox Greenworks bathroom cleaner, makes no such claims. The package mentions removing soapscum, but not bacteria and viruses.

Apparently green cleaners are safe for everything in the environment, including germs.

How does an eco-concious person clean raw chicken juice off her counter? (Or does she just give up chicken because eating meat isn't good for the environment?)

I am also wary of food products that do not come in individual packages. Buying stuff in bulk out of bins or barrels may save on both the energy required for production, as well as the amount of packaging waste, but what's really in those bins? They have no expiration date, no guarantee of freshness, and really anyone (including the unsanitary people who use green cleaners) could have touched the food in the bins--whether it's grains, beans, dried fruit, I feel a whole lot safer purchasing it sealed, stamped, and safety inspected.

Some wonderful people may argue that it is the toxins from harsh cleaning chemicals and excessive processing and manufacturing that cause sickness and disease, but I say its good old-fashioned salmonella (and ecoli, staphylococcus, rhinovirus, fungi, enterococcus, parasites, etc).


Monday, July 20, 2009

Just call me Cardboardpants

I've been doing some major purging in my parents house this summer (office, storage room, garage, etc). And part of the deal is that anything they don't want to keep, I can sell. So I posted a bunch of old textbooks on Amazon the other day. I haven't sold anything on Amazon for years, but apparently I did set up a seller account at one point, and apparently I can still use that same seller account.

Today, I sold my first item--Sources of World History, Volume 1, a thrilling text from my dad's collection--and I saw, for the first time, the seller name I chose those many years ago: cardboardpants.

This name means nothing to me. I have no idea how or why it came about. But I'm quite certain it was concocted on the hairy plaid couches of Southridge #19, a place which inspired levels of silliness beyond my comprehension.

I don't know yet if there is a way to change my seller name, but I'm glad that one person in the world, at least, is willing to purchase a textbook from someone so obviously devoted to nonsense.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

My skills

In case you weren't aware, I have a lot of good skills.

One of my most useful skills: bug killing*

I got particularly good practice on the mish. I don't get to practice my flip-flop cockroach-killing technique very often these days, but my one-hand mosquito grab comes in handy in the summers--none of that two-hand clap method for me.

Tonight was momentous when I actually managed to kill a fly barehanded. Flies have a more erratic flying pattern than mosquitoes, and I usually have to smash them with a flyswatter after they've landed. But tonight, I found one trapped in my bathroom, and since the buzzing sound was totally totally annoying, I started grabbing at it.

Suddenly the buzzing stopped.

I looked down, and the fly was caught between the fingers of my fist.

Yes, I am awesome.


*I am not a violent person, and typically I do not kill bugs when they are outside--unless they are dangerous bugs like wasps. I only kill them when they come inside. They belong outside, and as long as they stay there, they are safe from me.

Friday, May 22, 2009

I can't believe I missed this show.

Apparently, a school in Spanish Fork, Utah, decided to have students put on a play of the short story "The Lottery" to teach the students about peer pressure.

The students were in 5th and 6th grade.

Some parents were upset.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Home again

For those of you who don't know, I just got back from a fabulous two-week vacation to the East. I visited my sister in Delaware (just outside Philadelphia); my old roommate in New York; and my MTC companion in Boston. Now I must return to normal life.

Good things about coming home from vacation:
  • sleeping in my own bed
  • having my own bathroom again (everyone knows I'm not good at sharing)
  • less intense allergies (love that East Coast pollen)
  • more mountains, fewer trees
Bad things about coming home from vacation:
  • unpacking (four days now, and I'm not done)
  • readjusting to the time zone--I'm going to bed late on Mountain Time and waking up bright and early on Eastern Time
  • unpacking
  • returning to responsibilities
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  • readjusting to the time zone--I should not be awake at 7am if I don't have to be
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  • readjusting to the time zone--four days! and I can't convince myself to sleep in yet?
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  • cooking my own food again--I like street vendors and restaurants
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  • unpacking--I think the next time I go on vacation, I'm just not going to take anything with me. The less I pack, the less I will have to unpack--happy day--either that, or I should just never come home from vacation
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So, what's your least favorite part about coming home from vacation?

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Picture this

Me sitting on the couch

watching Biggest Loser (not my favorite show, but I catch one or two episodes a year)

eating chocolate ice cream

straight from the carton.

That pretty much sums up my life.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

I study more linguistics

In my Psycholinguistics class last week, we learned about speech errors: pauses, repetitions, saying the wrong word, etc. When we broke into groups to discuss common speech errors, I proclaimed I am very aware of my own speech, and I hardly ever make speech errors.

On Monday, I was at FHE telling a story to a small group of friends. During the course of the story, I found myself making speech error after speech error. I was having trouble finding the right words, pronouncing the words, putting the words into coherent sentences--it was terrible. And the worst part was that I could hear myself making mistakes, but couldn't seem to prevent them.

Sensitive linguist that I am, I was intrigued by my experience and took the time to analyze it the next day. At first, I wondered if I really make that many speech errors on a regular basis and just don't notice. After awhile, I conceded that I do make more speech errors than I originally thought--but not that many. So there must have been some external factor affecting my speech production. (Studies show that stress, alcohol, and a number of other factors can increase the number of speech errors a person makes.)

I thought back to the scene of the crime, and the first thing I remembered was that the boy I was mildly interested in at the time was in the group and was standing near me.

And that was really all I could remember.

I couldn't remember who else was in the group of friends. Or what story I had been telling.

Which sums up why I had trouble producing coherent sentences.

And proves that I turn into moron when I am around boys I like.