Coconut water = BLISS.

For months my boyfriend has been recommending this specific brand of coconut water, but I hadn't tried it until tonight. Previously, my coconut water experiences were limited to the Naked brand, which was really, really mediocre and turned me off of the stuff completely. Tonight, however, I was at the grocery store down the street and this caught my eye. At $3 a bottle (LAME) I felt stupid buying it, but I'd been reading some really great things about the health benefits of coconut.

Apparently, coconut water does all kinds of good things. You can read about it in depth here, but I'll post my favorite parts for ya'll right here.

1. Lower calories and more nutritious than milk
2. Very high in potassium
3. Extremely high in electrolytes, which makes it perfect to rehydrate while being sick with gastrointestinal issues. Seriously! It seems that coconut water is the healthiest thing to drink next to plain water, but it has so many additional nutrients! It is useful for anyone suffering from vomiting. Excellent to know this.
4. Coconut water is even so awesome that it was actually used in World War II for injured soldiers; coconut water worked as a replacement for plasma! Amazing! You can't do that with orange juice, that's for sure.

I loved my expensive coconut water and I expect that I will soon become obsessed. If I could have my refrigerator stocked with cold water, Synergy kombucha (Cosmic Cranberry or Superfuits, please), and a huge amount of coconut water, I would be very happy and very hydrated and healthy.

DRINK COCONUT WATER! I'm also going to begin incorporating more coconut milk and raw coconut into my diet.

Food poisoning SUCKS... a LOT.

Don't eat at Subway, okay? It made me puke my guts out. It's especially unfortunate because I'm an emetophobe, i.e. I have an irrational fear of vomit/vomiting. That was pretty terrible.

Two bags of I.V. fluid, two shots of Zofran to stop the vomiting, and a restless night of sleep later, here I am... body aching like crazy. FML.

I am so excited for several things. I will list them.

• Valentine's Day with my boyfriend. I hope I'm not setting my expectations too high... (HINT HINT JESS MAKE IT FUN COUGH AHEM)
• Spring training starts soon! Baseball, I've missed you so! My World Series GIANTS!!!! All the pretend Giants fans will hopefully go away soon. It's so stupid seeing people I know acting like such big sports fans. Ha! Liars!
• Having my health fixed... ???
• That's it. I guess I'm not very excited about much after all.

We can't choose our family, but here's who I would add to mine if I could.

Samuel L. Jackson - Uncle

Queen Latifah - Aunt

Morgan Freeman - Great Uncle

Whoopi Goldberg - Aunt

... Is it just me, or is there a pattern here? Is it bad that I wish desperately to be adopted into a black family? I LOVE BLACK PEOPLE. I can't help it. I get it from my dad, who grew up in a predominantly black city and listened to soul music like crazy. So... if you know of anyone who is looking to adopt a pasty Jew into their family, please let me know.

College, college, college... and I have my first blog follower!

The first and most important thing that I must discuss is that someone is finally following my blog! Her name is Chelsea, and she happens to be one of my best friends. Thanks for making me feel somewhat interesting, Chels.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about college lately; namely other people's experiences. I still have quite a few friends in community colleges, which makes me look back on my own experiences at one of the local CCs. I hated it. H-A-T-E-D it. At the beginning of my "higher education," I'd started college in August of 2003, when I was still a confused 17-year-old. I had decided on a school called The University of Redlands, located approximately 45 minutes east of Los Angeles. The appeal was a) it was small, b) it was a liberal arts school, and most importantly, c) it wasn't too far from Disneyland. Unfortunately, it was in the Inland Empire, which is a dusty, smoggy, desert that is even worse than LA itself.

Needless to say, I immediately regretted my decision and chose to return home for my Sophomore year. Because my major was undeclared, I had no choice but to go to College of San Mateo (CSM), the closest community college. I'd been there before for various reasons; I'd even taken film classes there during the summer before 7th grade. It didn't seem like it would be terrible.

It was awful. It felt like being back in a public high school, which was one of the last things I could have wanted. I had very few quality teachers, a hell of a time finding parking, and the old buildings had absolutely no air-conditioning. You must understand that CSM is up at a bit of an elevation, and the late-summer heat was awful. There were countless times that I sat in my seat, sweat blurring my vision and my head feeling light, unable to concentrate due to the 90°+ temperature inside the classrooms.

After three semesters at CSM, I transferred to an art school (that would literally accept anyone) out of desperation to make a quick escape from community college. When I hear my friends talk about their schedules, it makes my body tense up even imagining waking up at eight in the freakin' morning to be at class by 9am. There just weren't enough options!

That's all for now. I think I lost steam.

Big Love vs. Small Love

I've been watching a lot of Big Love lately. By "a lot," I mean that I've watched 21 episodes in the past few days. Considering that each episode is approximately 52 minutes long, that means that I've watched about 18.2 hours of the show in less than a week; i.e. I've devoted nearly an entire calendar day to a television program.

I can't explain exactly what makes Big Love so appealing; something about the mixture of polygamy with a mundane suburban lifestyle is absolutely fascinating to me. Like pretty much every ignorant person in the United States, we all think of polygamy as disgusting and weird, and maybe even a little bit perverse. It's STRANGE. Why would any woman willingly marry a man who wants to marry other women? I know that if my boyfriend told me he wanted to "take a second wife" I would slap him across the face (or maybe something a bit less physically violent). I don't know if it's my natural jealousy or if it's perfectly normal to feel this way, but I feel quite entitled to having my boyfriend all to myself. All other females can go cry themselves to sleep, because he is not bringing anyone else into the picture as long as we're together.

Does that sound possessive? Maybe it does, but everyone I know would feel exactly the same in regards to his/her relationship. I don't need to keep tabs on Jess; hell, he can go do whatever he wants, as long as he's being safe and not dating other women. That's the key, you see; not dating other women. I cannot even fathom being comfortable with that thought. I understand that there are all types of relationships, including the polyamorous type. I don't care how people choose to love, but these "Sister Wives" are... well, they're stronger than I am. More confident? Or maybe just stupid? (Sorry for that. I'm trying, trying, trying not to be judgmental!)

Or maybe I watch Big Love because it's entertaining. Plus, just LOOK at Ginnifer Goodwin! She is adorable! I want to pat her on the head! I want to adopt her! Exclamation points!!!

Did YOU get to pet a chicken today?

Today I went to the farm where my friend Emma is currently living/working, which meant that I was able to pet cows, calves, chickens, an amazing dog named Joey (EEHEHEHHEE), and a cat. There were more cats and two pigs, but I didn't pet any of them because I'm stupid. There was also a precious 2-year-old named Hazel who kept asking me to push her on the tire swing. I liked her and wish I could babysit her.

These pictures are of Joey the dog. He is amazing and

followed me around a lot.

I forget his name, but he is cute and drinking milk because he's still a little baby.

It was really interesting to see the lifestyle they live on this farm. They don't sell their milk, but they do some sort of trading with people... or something. I wasn't too clear on it. They have raw milk and make yogurt, ice cream, and butter, as well as making their own kombucha. They also have fresh eggs, which must be pretty convenient. They don't have a television but they do have one computer. Their life revolves around their farm, which is admirable to me because I could NEVER give that sort of dedication; traveling is crucial in my life, and they almost never have time off. Emma said that the 11-year-old boy reads a lot, which is good because most preteens spend their time on the computer and/or playing video games. The lifestyle there seemed so... wholesome. I felt like a stupid "city girl" when I pulled up in the driveway and got out wearing Converse and a skirt. Granted, the skirt was a black raggedy American Apparel thing that I didn't mind getting dirty (which is good, because one of the calves slobbered all over me while trying to eat my hoodie).

I really enjoyed touching the chickens. I think my initial enthusiasm terrified all of them, but I eventually managed to pet a few when Emma showed me how to do it properly. I'd really had no idea just how soft they would be, so it was pleasantly surprising to feel their silky feathers. There was another breed that was really scary looking, and I'm not sure what they're called, but they looked something like this:

Way scarier than that, though. I'm having trouble figuring it out because there are a ton of breeds, apparently... what an interesting experience it was!