It's time for another installment of Big, Big Fan, the blog series where I (for no good reason!) tell you about products that give me a happy. Up today? Dairy. Specifically Icelandic-style skyr, which is strained non-fat yogurt, made by Siggi's.
First up, let's look at the label:
Check out that protein count, ladies and gentleman*. 14! And with no fat and just 100 calories. You can argue that the agave nectar is no better for a person than sugar, and I would not be equipped to debate you, but the grams of sugar in Siggi's is way, way lower than what they pack into a cup of disgusting, runny Yoplait.
The best part about this yogurt is that it takes ten years to eat. It is so thick that you really have to work at this meal-in-a-cup to finish it. I like that in a breakfast.
Additionally, the flavor is just phenomenal. This yogurt is tart, like yogurt should be, and if you get the orange with candied ginger kind you get to enjoy little bits of crystalized ginger that adds a zing no Dannon yogurt could ever replicate.
I look forward to this yogurt. Who looks forward to yogurt? Siggi's eaters. Siggi's truly excels at being yogurt.
The major drawback is the price. I can find it at Rainbow Grocery for $2.09 a carton, but that is as cheap as I've seen them. Siggi's at other retailers cost as much as $2.69 a pop. But as someone who can barely grow an appetite until well after noon, but who knows she needs protein after waking to avoid choosing the largest lunch available, this little breakfast buy is worth it for me. I eat it slowly on the train with a teaspoon and watch the other women on board gawk with jealousy.
Reading this made my eyes well up and my heart start to rocket and my gut fall into my lap.
I've been on that side street so many times.
I've felt the sheer fear that overtakes a person when she is suddenly surrounded by men who tower over, threatening her, laughing as they harrass her openly on a city street.
I've run home with groceries--an outright sprint--to escape beer-soaked promises of sexual assault.
"I'd fuck you so hard, girl." This is followed with grunts or smiles or even high-fives with onlookers.
Once I escaped two men who were coming at me on a sidewalk, then split apart to surround me on either side. They spat out crude demands, and I was so new to New York, that I felt like I might never be seen again.
After ridding myself of the two men who divided in efforts to conquer, a young man met my gait as I continued home.
"You did pretty good back there," he told me. "Way to handle yourself."
I told him thanks, but was badly shaken.
"So. You live around here?," the young man asked. "I do. Maybe we could get a drink sometime."
I looked at him and shook my head in disbelief that he would come onto me after he witnessed what had just happened.
I walked--no, marched--home. There I am safe, mostly. On the streets, I am subject to the whims of those looking to intimidate, harrass or worse.
Everyone reserves the right to go about their lives undisturbed. Everyone deserves the right to enjoy a level of bodily and emotional security that should not be subject to the whim of others and their selfish actions. Everyone, no matter what they look like, where they walk, or what they do, is precious, and should be treated as such. No one should ever be interfered with against their will.
"It's worth asking him what the fuck he was thinking, but if the answer is (as I suspect it is), that he genuinely just didn't know, he should be fired for gross ignorance unbecoming of any self-respecting journalist, not for racism."
Not long ago I got a wild hair and decided to steam clean the carpet in my bedroom. I went to Cole Hardware, rented a steam cleaner and took it back to the house where I proceded to fuck it up in a big way.
Water went everywhere. I thoroughly soaked the carpet, and it was only when I was mostly finished "cleaning" the rug that I discovered why I'd soaked the whole room. But it was too late. The gallons of water had been spilled.
It was time for damage control.
Fearing a soppy wet room for weeks and stinky, health-risky mildew sprouting up, I called around looking for a dehumidifier that might solve the issue of the soggy room. A kind gentleman at, yet again, Cole Hardware recommended the Eva-Dry 1100 Petite Dehumidifier at $60.
$60 is no small amount of money to me, but replacing the carpet in my bedroom would not be feasible, so I ponied up the three twenties.
Now, granted, I don't have a ton of experience with dehumidifiers. This is my first foray into the world of demoisturizing a room. But I can't imagine a better device exists on the market at this price.
This tiny, super quiet machine that plugs into any outlet sucks big time. It removed a whole cup of water from the carpet in the first day. It is so satisfying to stoop down and see water that would have become mold or mildew rising slowly in the removable tank. When getting full, just slide the small tank out of the machine, pour the gross carpet water down the sink, then replace the tank. So simple. If you forget to empty the tank the device automatically shuts off to prevent spillage.
It can be a rare treat when a machine works far better than you expect it to. The Eva-Dry is a petite little powerhouse. If you fail at steam cleaning your carpet, I can't recommend a better disaster prevention purchase than this.
[This is the first post in a new series called Big, Big Fan. This series will highlight various things of which I am a Big, Big Fan. No items reviewed within Big, Big Fan were given to me free of charge. I wish. Find more Big, Big Fan posts (soon) by clicking Big, Big Fan in the categories column on the right-hand side of this blog.]
"That’s why you can feel deep attachment for one person, then swing into wild romantic love for someone else, then switch on the Internet, look at pornography and feel a sex drive that has nothing to do with any of those."
"yeah it was totally tragic that we got those horses killed, but after the second one died we 'suspended production' to figure out how not to kill any more horses while filming our television show about this shitty sport that fucking wrecks horses specifically bred to be fucking wrecked and that no one except the people involved in their wrecking gives a fuck about"