Wake Up and Sniff the Kopi Luwak Coffee

If you’ve read my blog or talked to me for any length of time, you already know that I wake up early to write. My alarm goes off, I roll out of bed, dress in sweats, and grab a cup of coffee. I’m not fully awake until I take my first sip of java, usually at the top of the long flight of stairs leading to my office. So it stands to reason, that coffee plays a crucial role in my life. Therefore, I am always game to give a new bean a try. But I doubt I'll be trying this one:

Kopi Luwak from Animalcoffee.com

The Kopi Luwak Coffee bean is harvested from Indonesian forest floors only after it has been eaten and shat out by a three toed marsupial called the Paradoxurus.

Paradoxurus also known as Luwak by the natives.

Kopi Luwak before processing.

Bet you're thinking, no wonder Gabe's taking a pass on the coffee. Well folks, that's not the reason. Truth be known, I'd probably give it a sip or two. The aroma and taste are supposed to be divine. The reason I will probably never try this coffee is the price. This shit is expensive! Retailing for a whopping $120.00 to $600.00 a pound, the only way I'd be giving this one a try is if I received it as a gift.

Quarter pound arabica gift box us$90.00.

So tell the truth, if given the opportunity, would you give this a try?

God's Hairball take 2

As an update to the God’s hairball story Tara was kind enough to share some of her extraordinary photos.




How's that for a miracle appetite suppressant?

God’s Hairball

I was having dinner with my friend Tara when she informed me that she had plans to go see the world’s largest hairball. Based on what comes out of my own sink periodically, I could only imagine the size of said hairball. Tara further informed me that the hairball resided at Mt. Angel Abbey and Seminary right here in Oregon. Now, I do have a cat. So, I have some experience with hairballs. They are not meant to be looked at. They are meant to be flushed down the toilet (after they have significantly cooled, dried and are no longer gag educing). Tara was helpful enough to send me a link to an article in the Portland Mercury written by John Dooley. I have snipped the most interesting paragraph for your enjoyment.

World's Largest Hairball John Dooley, Portland Mercury

“Presented to visitors as a miraculous example of God's mysterious ways, God's Hairball was unbosomed in an Oregon City meatpacking plant in the late 1950s, cut from the swollen belly of a 300-pound swine and donated to the museum soon after, where it has been on display ever since. Weighing in at two-and-one-half pounds, the calcified, gut-polished lump of hog bristle and plaque is considered the heftiest known hairball in the world. Pinched at each end like a turd, the disturbing, retch-inducing wad is sickening in its putrid grandeur, and is a must-see for the quirky tourist!”


I don’t know whether I was more horrified by the authors use of the word unbosomed in this context or the words “Pinched at each end like a turd...”

Picture if you will...

Picture if you will the quandary faced by a young man out on a stroll at 3:00 in the morning. The young man’s name doesn’t matter, nor does the name of his home town. What does matter is that this young man is hungry, thirsty, and in need of a few hundred cigarettes. What happens next ladies and feme – men, must be viewed to be believed.

Now you too, can pee standing up...

Believe it or not, I start thinking about my camping and hiking gear around February. Mostly because you can grab up a bunch of equipment at rock bottom prices. So,imagine my surprise when I came across a mention of an um "sanitary item" that allows girls to pee standing up. Now least you think I'm interested in purchasing this product for myself, let me assure you that you couldn't be further from the truth. I enjoy the exercise my upper thighs get from squatting outdoors. I'm a seasoned camper/hiker. I also did my fair share of club hopping in my early 20's. I'm no more shy about peeing outdoors then Spanky is, but I find the existence of a product that allows women to pee standing up mind boggling. A quick Google search turned up at least three other variations of the same type of product.

Exhibit A The Travelemate Urinary proucts

Exhibit B The Incredibly Easy Pee-Zee

Exhibit C The Whizzy

And for the paz de la resistance give special attention to the chick standing by the side of the road with one leg of her sweat pants hiked up. Come on sister, most guys would go behind a freaking tree for gosh sake.

KATU - Portland, Oregon - Local & Regional - Snow possible but don't bet on it

KATU - Portland, Oregon - Local & Regional - Snow possible but don't bet on it

I woke up this morning to a lovely blanket of snow. The above weather report led me to believe that I had nothing to worry about,so I went to work. Mistake number one was listening to the dummy in the above link. Mistake number two was continuing to work after the back of my car slid into a gutter. I had considered going down to a smaller car with no four wheel drive, but todays weather just put that thought to rest. My good old 1992 4x4 did the job. I'm off to soak in a hot tub to calm my nerves.

Voicemail from my daddy

I got an interesting voicemail from my daddy this morning. I have to set a little ground work, before I tell you about it. My daddy is 70+ years old and retired. As near as I can tell, he keeps busy by gardening and visiting with his friends at Ben’s Burgers’ in Oakland California. When I was a kid in the 70’s, the social spot was Rips Soul Food Kitchen and McDonalds; both on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. Ben’s, as a social spot, is a fairly new thing; he’s older now and he worries about driving too far.

The voicemail this morning was to tell me that he’d received the two copies of Never Wake I’d sent him. Yes, I send copies of my books to both my parents. Now here’s where it gets odd. My daddy then requested I send him two more copies. Was I surprised? Nope. He sells a lot of my books to his Ben’s Burgers social club friends.

Now, between you and I dear reader, I doubt he’s ever read any of my books. I also doubt any of his friends have either. I vacillate between wishing my books were going to people who actually read them, and being damn proud of my daddy for his boldness and his ability to make such supportive friends. Now where was he when I was pushing Girl Scout cookies in the fifth grade?

Global Orgasm day

The folks over at the Global Orgasm website would like us all to make love not war. They would like December 22 to be Global Orgasm Day. Works for me!

What's in my gadget bag?

All right so I thought I would fool around with flikr the other day while on a conference call. I absolutely adore free stuff. Say what you will about yahoo, flikr Google, and blogger, but they are probably the best free stuff you'll ever find. If folks from work run across this post, sorry, but you people bore me to tears. Now there are a few disclaimers that I must insist on. This is not a purse. It's a gadget bag. Gabe doesn't carry a purse--It's a bag--comprende?

If you would like to know what some of the smaller items are you can follow this link to flickr and wave your cursor over each object.

Gabrielle's Success

Have you ever found a letter from yourself that gave you a kick in the pants just when you needed it? I found this on the hard drive of my old computer. My first thought was to edit it to death, but I decided not to. I hope you'll understand why when you read it.

Gabrielle's Success

I didn’t need that red needle coming to rest on the thick black 250 to tell me I had a problem. My thighs chafed when I walked longer than 15 minutes, my knees cracked and my lungs burned from walking up short flights of stairs. I had to purchase men’s jeans in order for them to fit comfortably. I wore 42DDD bras and I would have rather licked botulism than hop on a scale.

Eventually there came a day when I decided that it was time to get my life and myself back. No matter how many years I’d spent as an “overweight” adult, I never felt comfortable with that title. I always thought of myself as active. I would even tell people I didn’t eat much in order to dispel any misconceptions regarding HOW I got as big as I was. I realized that in order for me to lose weight and become healthy, I would have to find out exactly how much damage I had done to myself over the years. With heart pounding and eyes squinting, I stepped on the scale and confirmed what I had already suspected. I wasn’t just overweight. I was morbidly obese.

Since I began my weight loss journey, I’ve given a great deal of thought to what may have caused my obesity. But in truth, it was probably a combination of things. As a child, I believed friends who had pantries stocked with cookies, candies and sugary cereals to be rich. In my teens, when I did begin to care about my weight, I would remedy perceived love handles by not eating. As a young adult, I ate junk foods because I was too lazy to cook. In my mid 20’s, I was ratcheted up the ranks of my company to a management position, complete with expense account. I was expected to wine and dine clients weekly; a chore that I completed without complaint. And finally, in my late 20’s I suffered from what I now believe to be undiagnosed depression.

You’re probably thinking: How could she not know she was depressed? I didn’t know, because I didn’t have any of the symptoms that I associated with depression. I didn’t lie in my bed and hide from the world. I wasn’t particularly sad or angry. I got up every morning, got dressed, went to work and sometimes even managed a legitimate smile. Oh, and I ate.

I ate as much as my boyfriend(I was in denial folks) and neither of us thought anything of it. When that relationship ended we were both bigger people for the experience. As my weight grew, a problem I can trace back to early childhood began to develop like an ill formed twin. My problem was negative thinking. I would often think and say things about myself that would bring tears to my eyes. Words such as “stupid” and “fat cow” come to mind as I type this, but these are probably the least abusive of what I thought of myself. Food became a panacea—a salve for hurts that I inflicted on myself.

Success comes at a price, isn’t that what the old adage says? The price I paid in order to get to a healthy weight was accepting the responsibility that I was solely to blame for my condition. I had mentally and physically abused my body by giving it foods that were not nutritious, and refusing to listen to it when it complained of its poor treatment. I will carry the scars of that abuse in the form of stretch marks over newly formed abs for as long as I live. They (stretch marks) will forever be reminders, should I ever forget how far I’ve come.

At first glance you might think that my success is simply that I’ve lost over 100 pounds and that I am no longer obese or even overweight according to most doctors charts. But that is only half my story. Immediately after reading Dr Atkins’ New Diet Revolution, I remember knowing with absolute certainty that one day I would be in a size 10 again. That was one of the few positive thoughts I’d had in years and I held on to it as if it were a life preserver throughout my journey.

I currently weigh 144.8 pounds and wear a size 8 woman’s and a 30 in men’s jeans. But even that small victory is not why I consider myself successful. I consider myself successful because I was kind to myself. For 19 months I looked at myself in the mirror and said “good going sweetie.” I congratulated myself when I passed on the movie popcorn (my favorite) and I rubbed the back of my own neck after I worked out particularly hard. I told myself ”soon” when I’d try on a new pair of jeans that still didn’t quit fit , and I told myself that tomorrow was another day when I ate too much. I stopped being afraid of food and I embraced it for its ability, when used properly, to make me feel healthy. I became my own best friend and trusted confidant. I learned to love Gabrielle…and in the midst of all that loving of me… I lost 105 pounds. Go figure.

If money were no object...

Periodically my partner and I have conversations about wining millions.
Before I go further, I should point out that my partner has a job, that pays well and that she enjoys.

She’s also a semi-pro poker player. I say semi-pro because in order for her to be pro she would have to make the same annual salary that she makes in her day job. Semi –pro simply means she makes half her annual salary. My reason for bringing this up is because she and I have often discussed what we would do if she hit it huge or if we won the lottery. Keep in mind, we don’t play the lottery, this is just a figurative conversation.

Anyway, she seems to think she would continue to work her office job. I say bull. I don’t care if you love your office job, most of us would rather be doing something more creative. She pointed out that when I had the opportunity to write full time, (after the lovely tech boom of 2000) I got fat, bored and mean. Well, she didn’t say it like that, but she implied it.

So with that in mind, I asked myself, would I continue to work an office job if money were no object? It really differs in every office, but I’m starting to think that people who sit in cubicles have accepted some facts about life that I am not quite ready to accept. I haven’t reached my full potential nor am I willing to sacrifice for the next generation.

Screw that. If money were no object, I’d buy myself a jet plane so that I could procrastinate in the Bahamas, sit and admire the women in South Beach, and write this blog from a café in Paris. Care to join me?

Losing things

I’m leaving for P-Town in less than two days and I’ve already lost two items. One was a gift check for $25.00 the other was my bankcard. Actually, I’m pretty sure the machine kept my card, but I am willing to accept at least part of the responsibility. I think loosing things is my brain's way of forcing me to slow down.