Return of the Mack
I often dream of my grand entrance to some award ceremony being a boisterous stroll with “Return of the Mack” blaring in the background. Unfortunately, until I get my act together I can’t imagine winning an award for anything and “Return of the Mack” will have to be confined to my November iTunes workout playlist. So there is another “Mack”. The...
Hurricane Ike (Irene who?)
Everyone is up in arms about this Irene character but hell, I’m from Texas and my hurricane street cred runs like a convicted felon. I’ve survived Katrina which brought droves of New Orleaneans into my city and my school. And dipped to escape the wrath of Ike. (I always like to picture this crazed, expensive earthquake as it’s twin Ike Turner. And not the original Ike but the...
Carrot. Apple. Ginger.
Not to be mistaken for: water, sugar, purple. This triumverate serves as the bulk of most of my juicing activities. I pack the carrots in because they make my eyes pretty and are supposed to make my skin match my orbs. I’ll keep you posted on that one. It also prevents cancer, slows heart disease and other ailments my P.Y.T self isn’t really bothered with at the moment. Carrots...
Hello. Come meat plants.
My name is Schuy. And I am a hypocrite. Enlightened by my elitist education and burrowing self-discovery of my precarious skin health, I tumbled down a path of extremism according to my loved ones: the world of veganism. It wasn’t enough that I never had a taste for tuna- but forgoing the cows and pigs? Blasphemy! But I’m weak. Though I have reaped the benefits of veggie...
You don’t win friends with salad.– Homer Simpson