Energy Drink Review: MiO Energy Liquid Water Enhancer

This picture is literally life-sized on my giant work monitor.

Well, it's finally come to this. In a lapse of judgement and all common sense, I've let myself run out of energy drinks and Diet Coke. Luckily, like, a month or two ago, I picked up some of this MiO Energy shit you're supposed to drop in your water. I think maybe I've tried some before but didn't write about it, or maybe I did but I'm too lazy to search my own blog. Whatever. Anyway, I've got the black cherry flavor and an extra water bottle and I am going to MAKE THIS SHIT HAPPEN. I should mention that the fact that I have to "make" my own already puts MiO in the minus column. Also, its spelling is stupid and I hate it.

There are no guidelines for dosage on this container. Oh wait, it says it makes eighteen eight fluid ounce servings. This little Nalgene guy that is probably giving me cancer and used to say "Macalester College" on it but the letters rubbed off does have a helpful measuring scale on the side (both metric and Stupid American). Oh, I found it on the side of the little bottle (phial?*), one squeeze for each eight fluid ounces. My bottle is filled to 16 oz., so I should do two squeezes, whatever that means. Why am I doing math for this? Okay, I put two squirts of what seemed like reasonable duration into my water. SO MUCH WORK.

FLAVOR: I guess it just tastes like some Vitamin Water or something. Vaguely fruity, but only vaguely.

EFFECTIVENESS: I'm about halfway through, and I'm like, "Whatevs." I'm a up a bit, but without all the carbonation melting my tooth enamel and chemicals burning my throat, I have a hard time gauging how effective it is. Legs slightly more bouncy than usual, though, so that's a good sign.

I just had an awkward encounter with a walk-in. He wanted to talk to somebody about all his personal problems/the fact that he is constantly judged because he is a black man/why aren't there more African-American Catholics? As a receptionist/non-Catholic lay person/white person, I have nothing to offer. No I will not discuss my lack of religious belief with you. Here, take all the cash from my wallet since you insist you have to take a cab, not a bus. Go away. Feeling kind of weird about the whole thing (also, afraid he'll come back to ask for more money from me sometime), but still relatively wakeful, so that's a positive for MiO!

OVERALL: It is pretty good! You can always add more drops if you want it stronger and I don't feel like I'm destroying my entire body while drinking it. Recommended.


*Phial is way sketchier-looking than vial, so obviously I prefer that spelling.

How psychic believers made me more of a skeptic

Guys, as I have mentioned before, I'm like, obsessed with paranormal TV shows: investigation-y ones, ones with cheesy reenactments, personal anecdotes, scientific or "scientific" analysis of the phenomena, whatever. Obviously, my default television network is Investigation Discovery because, duh murder shows, but if there's a ghost hunt or first-person account of a haunting or even a paranormal debunking show on that I somehow haven't seen yet, I'm watching it. I've also written numerous academic papers on paranormal investigation TV (and even got one accepted to an academic journal for publication mwahmwahmwah) because I think the genre's popularity can tell us some really interesting things about our culture.* Do I believe in ghosts? Maybe? I've stated before that I am like Mulder's poster when it comes to the paranormal:

But I kind of gave up on believing things when I stopped being Mormon (eight years ago this fall!). I mean, I grew up being taught to believe in some weird shit. For a long time after leaving the church, I thought of myself as an "apathetic agnostic"; I didn't know if I believed in a god, and I didn't really care. I lean more toward atheist now, and my inability to believe in a deity also makes me awfully skeptical about stuff like souls and an afterlife. Which makes the whole "ghost" thing confusing. But lest this turn entirely into a multi-thousand word post about which scientific theories of alternate realities/universes/energies or whatever I think might be valid, let's just leave it at: I have always been fascinated by and drawn to paranormal stuff. I like the idea of it, I think people have authentically unexplainable experiences, but I have no firsthand experience and my liberal arts-addled/critical thinking brain is like, "It's probably bullshit. It's cool and creepy, but probably mostly bullshit."

The other important thing to know about me is that I am very uncomfortable with genuine displays of emotion. Sincerity is like my Kryptonite. I cannot handle earnest people and all their feelings and enthusiasm and faith and I'm just feeling icky thinking about it. I only hug when I'm drunk! I use sarcasm as a shield! Et cetera! I don't even know how I handled all those years of testimony meeting.** Which is not to say I've never been caught up in "the Spirit" or whatever. That's what Girls' Camp and EFY were for. I've moved pretty far past that whole Mormon teenager "I have to believe" mindset, so today even things like my local Occupy meetings drain me because of the all the goddamn belief in change and earnest effort. I was just so goddamn embarrassed for everyone. I hate the Q&A sections of academic lectures. You just do not know what people will say! It is so awkward. I hate it. True believers are huge turn-off for me. But I went to see psychic/medium/badass Chip Coffey last night anyway.

I can't say that the actual presentation/show was worth the $50 I spent to sit in the very back of the general admission section, but Chip was, ultimately, very charming. He's an adorable southern-ish gay man who likes to swear and give people tough love. How can you not be into that? I also tend to believe that Chip Coffey is sincere in his belief that he can speak to the dead and has general psychic abilities. I don't believe the man is a charlatan (though I do kind of just like using the word "charlatan"), and I've seen him come up with some pretty specific, creepy shit that he really has no way of knowing on his various TV appearances and even in a few of the short readings he did last night. I can't explain those. But most of what he does is read people. OBVS. Psychics are like Sherlock Holmes, but more tactful.

The crowd who showed up at Coffey Talk with Chip Coffey was largely made up of white ladies, and skewed toward middle age, I would estimate. And some of them had their very own PSYCHIC KIDS with them! Which is one of Chip's things, obvs, but when the woman next to me pressed him during Q&A to write, like, an instructional manual about children's psychic development he was like, "I actually do very little work with children." In part because it is kind of controversial, which he admits. And she was filled with disappointment, but luckily she could chat with the ladies in front of us about their psychic kids together during the break, at which time I escaped to the bar. Then at the bar, while slurping down my raspberry vodka and Sprite (I had less than 15 minutes), a middle-aged white lady with a very short, very unfortunate haircut and a commemorative satin jacket from Alcatraz ("The Rock") was telling some other lady about her life-changing experience with cars from the past and reliving her childhood to find peace with a dead loved one or something and I was texting my friends like, "OMG these people" because I am terrible.

There were lot of people walking around with VIP lanyards (pay extra to actually meet Chip) and Super-VIP lanyards (pay even more extra to meet Chip and do a paranormal investigation of the Wabasha Street Caves with him) who read pretty "ghost hunter-y" to me (Think: Paranormal Challenge contestants). Most people who were picked out of the many volunteers during the second portion of the show to have readings done either wanted to contact a dead friend or relative or to ask about, like, health problems they have or something. Chip was generally charming, he handles people well and didn't let anybody yammer on and on awkwardly. But of course his readings for people were incredibly general, and even some specifics seemed pretty easy to guess. He did (apparently accurately) mention boats in relation to two of the men he "read," but since this is Minnesota and practically everybody's got a cabin on a lake or at least a friend who has one, I'm not sure that's really narrowing it down much. As I watched the sad, mourning people gain comfort from Chip telling them their loved one says they love them and that they are okay, I was in some ways disappointed. Nothing amazing happened. Those readings could have been for anybody. I would still be open to getting a personal reading done some day (when I've got money to burn), just to see if they said anything actually applicable, but I feel as though it would be a lot like when I got my patriarchal blessing at seventeen and was like "Vague much?"

Though pretty decent entertainment, watching all those believers watch Chip do what he does, I just felt kind of sorry for everybody. Their eagerness to believe just reminded me of my church days. Of teenagers really trying to believe, to claim that the "knew" the Church was true, to "feel the Spirit" and cry and hug each other because of Jesus*** (or just sleep deprivation/peer pressure, but whatever). Of little children in testimony meeting repeating the words of truth and belief into the microphone that their parents whispered into their ears. And because I was there alone, I had nobody to snark to (a great tragedy) or to express my skepticism about certain claims that Chip or his fans were making. It was that community of believers that just kind of creeped me out a little bit. I would read the fuck out of an ethnography about psychic believers, but I would never, ever want to conduct one. I didn't even raise my hand to volunteer for a reading because a) What the hell would I ask? "Can you tell me some vague things about my future career as Amy Poehler?" "Please contact my dead grandparents, but not really because even in life it was awkward to talk to them on the phone, as much as I loved them, and what if this is real and they tell me I've ruined my life by not being Mormon anymore?" Also, b) I probably wouldn't have gotten picked anyway. I bet Chip would have been able to smell the cynicism on me. Though I did wear a semi-sparkly fashion scarf in scarf solidarity.

Anyhow, we all know I have a cold, blackened heart that cannot be touched by the power of love, hope, miracles, or the Invisible Hand of the Marketplace. This is not news. But goddamn if all that sincerity made me turn my skepticism up another couple of notches. Chip is great. Probably not actually speaking to spirits, though. Everybody else at the show last night should maybe think about getting a new hobby.


*Or at least that is maybe what I will write my dissertation about, but that is another essay in itself probably.
**Yes I do: snark. And avoidance. Just like when awkward situations happen on TV, I hide my face and/or do something else or talk over it for a minute because it is SO PAINFUL.
***Not this Jesus. I hug Him all the time, but only when we are both super-drunk. And then we insult each other affectionately and sing karaoke together. It is possible that my friend Brock is the Sexy Gay Jesus.

A Note from The Sexy Gay Jesus: Why Lent Is Bullshit

My adorable little acolytes: I need to address something very important: LENT. See, for many centuries "Christ"ians have been claiming that in order to get ready for my re-birthday, they've got to sacrifice some shit for, like, six weeks and have a weekly fish fry. Now, don't get me wrong--I am ALL ABOUT the pre-Lent bacchanalia of various Carnival and Fat Tuesday celebrations. I mean, hello--what is sexier and gayer than a giant parade of dancers in skimpy, sparkly costumes, drunken revelry, and the like? But SRSLY, people, just because that one time I did a big cleanse and my friend Lucifer and I made that bet about whether I could make it the whole forty days or not, does not mean that you have to go and make a crappy holiday out of it!

I know the Holy Roman Empire was totes expert at stealing local traditions and deities and whatnot and just being like, "You don't have to STOP worshiping this stuff, we're just going to give it a new name. Like, now Quetzecoatl/Odin/whoever is Jesus or St. Peter or the Virgin Mary, mmkay?" But to me, it kind of seems like Lent was just this unfortunate time at the end of winter where people were like, "Hey, we're running out of food and everything is dead for several more weeks, this is the worst." So what do they do? They pretend they're giving everybody a BIG PRESENT where they can party on the last of their winter booze reserves, then the next day they go to church where they burn a bunch of old leaves or some shit then draw crosses on their heads with the ashes like a bunch of creepy zombies or something. Then, they're like, "Okay, you have to give something up and also no meat on Fridays because we've got a strategic political alliance with the fishery business." See, now the deprivation and the forced consumption of seafood seem VOLUNTARY. A demonstration of faith and penitence. This is silly. I don't want you to deny yourselves! Don't blame me for your misery, people. I LOVE hedonism--probably a little too much, actually--so let's be clear about this Lent thing: so not my idea.

Don't get me wrong, if you feel like you've got to go on a serious purge to fit into your new Easter dress, that's your prerogative, but I think winter is depressing enough without us all giving up creature comforts like candy, booze, Facebook, or masturbation. So do me a favor: when you (inevitably) go into cranky withdrawals, don't say you're doing it for me, okay? I say drink up, eat the chocolate, rub one out. And do it all in the name of The Sexy Gay Jesus. You can always order the dress in the next size up, anyway. Nobody's checking your tags--least of all me. So enjoy yourself for the next forty days, and I'll see you when we get together again for the annual celebration of my Triumph Over Death (you're welcome, BTW).

Love & tequila shots,
The Sexy Gay Jesus

This is not a joke. Or it's, like, the sneakiest and most convincing parody of all time.

Many of my relatives are set on "limited profile" for me on Facebook so that they do not have access to my hundreds of drunken photos and do not get alerted when I write "sorry I threw up again" on people's walls on Sunday afternoons. These same relatives (who had the gall to friend me in the first place) have not offered me the same courtesy. My aunt, who I have only met a few times and whose familial claim to fame includes leaving the Mormons to marry a minister from an even more conservative Christian (and Southern!) church, sometimes posts ridiculous Facebook statuses. Since it would be a dick move to just copy and paste it into my own status and then write WTF!!!??? where she could read it and I might actually hurt someone's feelings,* I'm copying and pasting it here:

WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA Press 1 for English, Press 2 to disconnect until you learn to speak English, And remember only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you, JESUS CHRIST, And the AMERICAN SOLDIER. One died for your soul, the other for your freedom. If you agree... copy and paste in your status

W FUCKING T F??!!? SRSLY?

Luckily, this is one viral trend already covered at STFU, Conservatives, a website that would be too depressing to follow on a regular basis. God, I love America. This is so exactly what I'm writing about in my thesis right this moment. Ahhhh. *I have a little bit of a soul.

A few things I saw on the interwebs today

I, too, want to punch this goddamn Kay commercial in the face. Assvertising. (Melissa, Shakesville) Our favorite news source, HuffPo, asks why Ted Kennedy's son can't receive communion as the MAIN STORY on their "Politics" page. HOW IS THIS ANYBODY'S BUSINESS?! They act like ideological divides among Catholics are hot news. Pshaw, people. But anyway, mostly it reminds me of how I asked a vegan friend of mine recently if vegans could take communion, and besides pointing out that vegans can do whatever they want (contrary to popular belief, they do not have a law enforcement body), we decided that even if you really believe in transubstantiation or whatevs, Jesus totally gave his byproducts willingly, so it's cool. Never fear, Catholic vegans, I have solved a moral dilemma for you! Patrick Kennedy Communion Dispute Reveals Divide Among Catholics (fucking Huffington Post)

Quote o' Today: Patriarchal religions, huzzah!

Allah certainly had a roundabout way of approaching the subject, if in allowing multiple wives, he *really* meant to suggest multiple wives would be impossible to have. That tricky Allah! That sly guy! Why, if you scratch the surface, he’s almost a feminist. Funny how Mr. Feminist-Allah can’t ever say what he means.

-The Apostate on Muslim apologetics. Reza Aslan is a dishonest asshole (The Apostate)

Not-Specifically American History: EASTER EGGS YUM

Ukrainian pysanka... PRETTY.

The other night, we were having a conversation with friends about Easter because we were all wearing bunny ears (obviously), and somebody wondered where the Easter egg tradition came from, and I could not immediately retrieve the knowledge from my booze- and internet-addled brain. So I'm looking that shit up on the 'Pedia! But in the beginning, by which I mean in the pre-Christian era, eggs were Pagan symbols of rebirth and springtime and all that Wicca/Maypole/environmental whatever. Eggs have been painted for thousands of years, including by the ancient Persians for their new year (Nowrooz). Obvs, in Europe the Jesus people decided to compromise with the local heathen traditions and made the Saxon goddess Eostre's Vernal Equinox feast (and her association with the spring hare) into Happy Jesus Resurrection Day. Germanic languages derive their names for the holiday from Eostre (or Ostore), while most others take their names from the Hebrew pasch, for Passover, except for Serbians and some other Orthodox-types who use their words for "resurrection." Words are cool. Some of the appropriated egg traditions morphed into stuff like: -We make 'em red for Jesus' blood! -The shell represents the tomb! -Mary Magdalene was totally into eggs! -Let's have the priest bless our eggs and then we'll bring them to the cemetery for our dead relatives because the top priority for corpses is decorative breakfast food! Some of the egg-y associations with Easter come from abstention from eggs and dairy during Lent. Then you'd have to boil them to keep them good until you could eat them again. In England and other places there was a tradition of egg tapping or "jarping" that involved tapping eggs together and trying to make yours not crack or something. There's egg dancing, hunting, and rolling, like at the White House, where the pretty pretty Obamas live now:

Dolley Madison, the wife of President James Madison, began the event in 1814 and hundreds of children brought their decorated eggs to join in games. The original site was on the grounds of the United States Capitol, but in 1877 a new lawn was planted and the gardeners cancelled the event. Congress then passed a law making it illegal to use the grounds as a children's playground. At the request of a number of children, including his own, the then President Rutherford B. Hayes and his wife Lucy Hayes brought the event to the White House lawns. The practice was abandoned during Franklin D. Roosevelt’s presidency, and revived by Mamie during her husband's term in office. Mrs. Eisenhower opened the event to black children for the first time. In 2009, Barack Obama opened the Easter Egg Roll to same sex couples.

So, apparently egg-decorating is an ancient tradition in Slavic cultures, and the most famous examples are pysanka (something like "written on") from Ukraine. Some crazy wax-and-dye thing is used to make them awesome. Eggs had long been held sacred, or at least as magical items by Ukrainians before they got Jesus. Birds were able to fly close to heaven, where the sun god Dazhboh lived, whose eight-sided star symbol is still common in pysanka-decorating. There's an elaborate meaning behind the patterns and colors that you will have to consult the Wikipedia article for. Also, the eggs are often dried out over time or the insides are blown out. Traditionally, they were decorated by the ladies of the family (shock shock shockily wock), and often fertilized eggs were used for luck. Ha-a-a-a-lei-lu-oo-ya. I will not be dyeing eggs because I am lazy. But maybe I will make myself scrambled ones (omelet takes too much precision) for Easter afternoon lunch or whatever meal you call it when you get up at 3:00 p.m. DEATH IS CONQUERED, MAN IS FREE, CHRIST HAS WON THE VICTORY!