Alternative Grains for Swingers

I made some biscuits today with buckwheat, millet and whole grain flour that had been soaked in kefir to neutralize the wicked enzyme inhibitors in whole grains. Yes grains may seem healthy but according to Sally Fallon , nutritionist extraordinaire, whole grains unsoaked will attack your systems like Red Sox fans after they've won the world series (why do they get so violent? What is it about New England that makes people break stuff when they're HAPPY?). I digress. I soaked those mofo's and then baked them and ended up with biscuits the color of paper bags, only softer and perhaps a bit more bitter. Nothing lots of butter and honey wouldn't fix. So now I have a freezer full of paper bag biscuits instead of a revised thesis.

Last week I took it (yes, it, my thesis with it's contrived ending) out to work on and the mother board on my computer died and I couldn't work for a week. Today, I had my computer back so I made biscuits. And coconut kefir. Oh and last night I bought so many shoes on zappos that my credit card company called me at 7:30 in the morning to see if my card had been stolen. No, I told Bank of America, after answering a multiple choice quiz about streets I've lived on and zip codes I've inhabited, no one stole my credit card. It was I in a black-out shoe buying frenzy. They will be returned. Every last gorgeous pair.

Brooklyn, measure of all things worth attending.

Why oh why do I keep reading the Kane? I'm already pissed off enough in my life, but sometimes my regular angst isn't enough and I read things like the blog-which-shall-not-be-named. The Kane happens to be using Brooklyn as a yardstick of all things fun to do in Baton Rouge. As in commenting that an event was good because it was Brooklyn-esque. Oh, does that mean everyone there was oozing attitude instead of sweat? And yes, Cokane, I know it's so wacked that Baton Rougites actually do cool things besides wearing purple and gold and drive around looking at abandoned buildings and eating crawfish and funneling beer, but SURPRISE they do.

1) I love Brooklyn but if things in Baton Rouge were Brooklyn-esque, no one would be dancing or smiling or having duels with roman candles. Nor would a Brooklyn New Year's Eve party include the tying together of four (yes FOUR, geaux Scott) artillery shells. We crossed the streams and we paid the price with our clothing and some of us might have ended up with bruised legs and burns but wasn't that better than standing around in itchy sweaters with weird ass bandanas around our necks being cool?

2) Where else can you not be packed and then have stuff in your apartment moved out by random strangers who come by and haul away 300 pound elleptical machines, then later invite one over for beans and corn?

and

3) Ok Advocate, since when is hating on Baton Rouge NEWS? Am I a jealous writer who blogs out of spite? Perhaps. But seriously. I'm from Massachusetts. I bitch about everything and yet I have found a way to love this place where at 1 am I am sweating like...like someone who lives in Louisiana. Before I moved here, I had no idea the places sweat could trickle. Like from my stomach. Who ever thought stomachs could sweat?