Hippiefication (in regards to my dinner).

Today’s Searches That Made Me Giggle Winner: “Bitchy Mary”.

Housemate MainFloor1 and I were watching Grosse Point Blank last night. At one point the main character takes a bottle of scotch to his father’s grave and pours the entire thing on it, then drops the bottle and walks away.

“That’s so rude,” MainFloor1 said.

“I know,” I said, “It looked like good scotch.”

“No,” she replied, “He totally littered. Oh, God, I’ve only been in Portland two months and listen to me!”

“It’s Hippiefication,” I told her. “It gets us all in the end.”

You can try and fight hippiefication. Really, you can. You can buy the SUVs and the pasturized processed cheese food products, you can even vote for Ron Saxton, but one day you’ll find yourself throwing your used coffee cup in the paper recycling and the plastic lid in the PETE 2 bin. From there, it’s all downhill until you’re in New Seasons, holding up the line and arguing with the clerk over whether or not the lettuce you are buying counts as ‘local’ since it’s from Washington.

I’ve seen it happen.

I’m making fun, but considering I rode the bus to work today while wearing my Birkenstock clogs and listening to my iPod that was carefully clipped to my messenger bag, maybe I should just eat a big can of shut the hell up.

I stopped by Safeway on my drive home on Monday to do grocery shopping. And I was very confused when I asked the gentleman to help me find the lentils and he took me to the Asian foods aisle and pointed to a box mix for some lentil soup. “I think that’s the only thing of lentils we have.”

That should have been my warning to run like hell, but it was raining and the only food in the house was pasta, salt, and salt-and-potato chips. So I soldiered on, and was amazed at the prices on the vegetables and meats. I got FIVE POUNDS of potatoes for $1.50! I got two pounds of boneless, skinless chicken breasts for $8!

Then I got home and commenced the cooking. A little olive oil, garlic, onion, fry the potatoes, chunk the chicken and toss it in the pan. A happy little hash.

Except when I started eating it… it didn’t taste all that good. As a matter of fact, the chicken tasted like the potatoes. It made me sad. And put more cheese on top.

Something deep inside me doesn’t want to admit it was because of the cheap chicken. Not just because I have a whole lot of it in the fridge, but because it means the hippies are right. And if they’re right about organic, grass-fed chickens being good– what else are they right about?

It causes great fear.

But I ain’t giving up my deoderant without a fight!

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One Response to Hippiefication (in regards to my dinner).

  1. I’ve actually gone with a low-grade deodorant (by Mennen!) that simply masks my smell until lunch, and from that point seems to plummet on the back side of the bell curve and actually accelerate the funk the rest of the day. Happy medium. For some reason I dare not ask, I got it two sticks for free from my brother-in-law. It’s been half a year and I just recently opened the other stick, so I’m content with this workflow until I run out, at which point I might go deodorant free altogether.

    I tell ya, the NPR membership, the Chinook Book, the trailer on my bike — and now my threatening deodorant abstinence — I’m hovering dangerously on the precipice. My saving grace is that I can’t grow facial hair worth a damn.

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