IPhone can’t capture how truly pretty the sunset over New Hampshire Ave. and the quaint little brick apartment buildings are. The cherry blossoms are blooming.
Monthly Archives: March 2009
Customer Service in the Recession
I should be packing for DC, but this made me so mad, I had to rant about it.
AJB and I ventured out to The Men’s Wearhouse to pick up 2 new suits, some shirts, ties, pocket squares, a belt, and braces. The suits were chosen, but needed to be tailored and were ready tonight. First off, let me say, I understand that The Men’s Wearhouse is not the height of men’s fashion. If you have the means, I would suggest going elsewhere for better quality. In fact, The Men’s Wearhouse is the Burlington Coat Factory of suit stores. That said, AJB needed a suit and we’re on a budget. You can get a nice enough suit at discount prices. At least, you won’t look like you bought your suit at an outdoor swap meet. Since we were picking up the suits, we thought we’d kill a few more birds with a few more stones and get the remainder of his accessories at the same place.
In an effort to bust through the shopping, I hit the tie table first thing. JCS was with me so I picked out ties quickly and handed them to him. We took them over to the table. I thought I’d lay them out with the jackets to see if they worked. Anthony, the assistant manager, whisked the coat from the table as I was trying out ties and quickly came back with shirt and tie selections. He laid them out ignoring the ties I’d chosen. Now, I’m a very observant person. I know when people are throwing attitude, no matter how subtle they think they’re being. Every time I disagreed with this guy, he gave a sour expression and once or twice tossed in a condescending laugh as if to say “yeah right, purple tie with a yellow pocket square? You must be joking.” I explained my color choosing methods and how I was using the color wheel to determine eye pleasing combinations. It’s a fact that colors that are opposites on the color wheel just go well together. They just do.
So this guy didn’t get it. No matter what I did, he kept coming back with blue on blue, red on red, purple on purple. Everything was colored coordinated to a tee. Fine. I get that most people want to match, but AJB is an artist and he specifically told me he wanted to stand out. I also think that when you’re an artist, the rules don’t apply. You can have a purple tie, a blue shirt, and a red pocket square. Go for it. Be bold! The new rules of fashion are: There are no rules. And as an artist, it’s your job to push the fashion envelope whenever possible. So while AJB wants to look professional, he also wants to make a statement about his creative capabilities.
Mr. Red on Red scoffed, huffed, gave looks, and laughed whenever I disagreed with him; like I was some stupid kid. He tried to put AJB in burgundy loafers and when I said “hell to the no” he seemed annoyed, as though I was cock blocking his fashion sense. I was, in fact, cock blocking his fashion sense, but that’s only because he follows a strict set of rules that AJB doesn’t have to adhere to. I suppose you don’t make it to Men’s Wearhouse Assistant Manager if you don’t know your shit, but in this case…because I wasn’t taking his word for it, we were treated like Vivian Ward (Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman) on Rodeo Drive; like dullards, like lower class citizens. He continued to bring his color choices to us even after we’d made a final decision. It felt as though he were saying, “you couldn’t possibly want that, here, try this”.
We did our best to high tail it out of there. As we brought AJB’s items to the counter, Anthony attempted to up-sell AJB on some socks. Being the smart go-getter that he is, AJB noted that it was a better deal to buy 3 socks at $5 each rather than the set of 3 for $20. Anthony was shocked that AJB couldn’t see the logic in his deal and aggressively pushed the socks sale. AJB bought some socks, but not the ones Anthony wanted.
All I know is, Anthony was annoyed with us from the get go. I don’t appreciate being scoffed at. And he scoffed! He sure as hell did. He was annoyed with us, made us feel unwanted, was far too aggressive, and did not provide us with excellent customer service. And I hate that. I’ve worked on the other side of the counter and I know what great customer service looks like…and that wasn’t it. He hardly smiled and he made us feel like a joke. Worst of all, he made us feel uncomfortable. He acted as though I was disagreeing with him just to be contrary or aggravating.
One thing you learn in retail is to leave your shit at the door. I don’t care if your mom died. If your problems are that bad, stay home. Don’t dump your baggage on unwitting customers. It doesn’t matter how much you get paid or how much shit you’ve taken from customers that day…THIS IS YOUR JOB! This is what you do and this is what Men’s Wearhouse pays you do to. They don’t pay you to show up, treat customers poorly, and then collect a paycheck. I repeat, this is your job. You chose it. You do the work that is required of you for however many hours you’re there. You do it, because you’re not the boss and you don’t own the company. You get hired to sell suits with a smile and entice customers to return again. And hey, check this out: You don’t work at Armani. Get a grip.
Playing Devil’s Advocate for a moment, it could be that Anthony is trained to get customers to leave with matching ensembles. It’s what he knows and it’s what usually works. However, has he never heard the saying, “the customer is always right”? If that’s not a Men’s Wearhouse policy, George Zimmer can stand by his suits, but not his employees…and that sucks. Their website reads: Great service is about building relationships. At Men’s Wearhouse, we want to be your clothier for life. Apparently, Anthony didn’t read the employee handbook.
I’m so annoyed with Anthony’s lack of courtesy that I hereby place Men’s Wearhouse on boycott until further notice. I made sure Anthony saw me write down his manager’s name. I will be calling to complain. This is simply unacceptable. In financially difficult times, when sales are down, you need to be as sweet as pie to make sure your customers return. If nothing else, customer service is the foundation of any business. It doesn’t matter what your product is. If you’re an asshole, you won’t be selling any of it.
FYI: I don’t choose AJB’s clothes for him. As a woman, it’s my job to provide perspective, advice, and common sense. AJB always has the final say. Don’t you, baby? *kiss*
My So-Called Birthday
Last weekend I threw, what I imagined, would be a really great birthday party for myself. It didn’t occur to me until later that maybe it was a little sad that I made my own birthday cake and did all the pre-prep and planning by myself. As party time drew near and passed, a few people showed up, but no where near the amount I’d hoped for. In fact, while my immediate family showed, none of my extended family made it; which made me a little sad because I go to all of their functions. Friends I was hoping to see (who said they’d come) didn’t show. The ones that did come were amazing and wonderful and lovely. They made, what I considered a flop, to be a little less like a birthday party and more like a small, but pleasant, get together. I’m not complaining, but I sort of am. I’m happy for the people who showed and let’s face it, it could have been worse. Right? Still, I think I set my expectations a little too high. I suppose I assumed the people I wanted to see wanted to see me too.
My sister stayed the entire week previous. What should have been a sisterly romp through wedding planning, I’m afraid ended up being a very boring time for her. Truth is, I’m just starting to get into entertaining and I’m not very good at keeping people occupied. I feel really bad about it. I don’t feel like she had a good time, we didn’t actually get very much wedding stuff done, and AJB’s kids, who are lovely, aren’t quite as lovely to people who don’t know them very well.
On Monday, I drove her back up North. That night we arrived in Vallejo, had dinner with her wife, K2, and K2′s new hot Finnish boyfriend, went back to the house and crashed. I got up the next morning, hung out for a bit and then drove a grueling 6 hour drive down the 5 Freeway. I was so exhausted, I had fleeting thoughts about getting a hotel on the side of the road – which lead to thoughts about getting murdered in a hotel by the side of the road. If you don’t know the 5 Freeway, it’s this long stretch of road that spans the entire state of California. Central California, in particular, is barren cow country dotted with Mexican radio stations and creepy rest stops. The drive itself is tedious because there isn’t much to look at except farms, rolling hills, farms, and rolling hills. You also get the wonderful experience of passing through the horrific slaughter house area which smells like death.
By the time I reached the Grapevine (a winding steep and dangerous incline), my eyes were burning, but by the time you reach this part of the drive, you’re almost home, so I pushed myself to the limit. I blasted The Sex Pistols to help keep me awake. I made it home, had some food and crashed hard. I woke up about 4 times during the night having a hard time falling back asleep each time. I cycled through my various natural sleep remedies, but continued to find sleep illusive.
By morning, AJB woke me up, but we were already late for an his appointment to get a suit. Through his assistant, he found a vintage suit store in Silverlake called Jake. We would get the suit and then head off to Disneyland. It was, after all, my birthday. I figured we’d get to the park no later than 1 or 2. The suit took a little longer than we expected. It’s a great suit. Afterward, nearly starving, we lunched at one of my favorite cafes: The Down Beat Cafe in Echo Park. Because AJB needs the suit for a big meeting in Washington, I agreed to taking the suit to the tailor in Studio City. By that time, I was becoming more and more tired, not feeling well in general, and was cranky. We got on the road a little after 3:30pm and hit heavy traffic. It would take several hours to get to Disneyland. I tried sleeping in the car, but became increasingly annoyed. After an hour or so, I gave up and told AJB to turn the car around. The day was wasted. We went home and I went to sleep.
So I’ve been feeling crappy all day. Emotionally and physically I’m drained. I’ll go ahead and call this one of the worst birthdays ever. I didn’t even feel like answering the phone when people called. A good deal of this stems from the long drive yesterday, the pathetic birthday party, and the fact that all I wanted to do today was wake up and go to Disneyland. I put too much stock in my birthdays and when they go awry, I get disappointed. I guess what I should do is treat them like any other day. If something good happens, hooray. If not, no big deal. March 25th is just another day. I’ll keep telling myself that until I believe it.
Wedding is Go
I always think about things I want to blog about, but never get around to it. Why is that?
My sister is in town for the week in an effort to help me plan my wedding. AJB and I got engaged in October 2008 and since then, we’ve done very little to plan this gala event; that is to say, the event of the year. We’ve booked the venue and have made a preliminary guest list (which at the moment nearly reaches 300). We have a few scatterbrained ideas, but nothing concrete and no vendors have been booked.
When I look at the wedding checklists I am inundated with, I become overwhelmed. People keep telling me that this is supposed to be fun, but it’s actually rather stressful. It’s not about impressing people with my management skills or decor ideas, it’s about pulling it off. Really pulling if off. It’s fun in a rather twisted, masochistic way. It’s torture, but it’s enjoyable and amusing.
The best part has been talking with my sister (my Maid of Honor). She’s so funny and smart and allows me to go into whatever zone I need to. I’d say she’s accommodating, but she’s also a great sounding board and isn’t afraid to tell me what she thinks. Ah, the perfect Maid of Honor. I am so very thankful she’s here this week. In fact, I wish she’d never leave or that she lived closer. Anyway, it would help. Alas, things are the way they are and the good news is, we have internets for the communicating.
Today we really kicked into gear. I found out about marriage licenses, posted an ad for a photographer, talked to a caterer, started data entering the guest list, and discussed other miscellaneous ideas. I also found out that the caterer will chew up at least 50% of our budget and that there are a lot of really crappy wedding photographers out there. As a photographer myself, this has been educational.
I’ve learned various things about the wedding photographer’s method:
1. No portfolio is a bad thing. You won’t get the job.
2. Link to you site. Don’t ask me to Google you.
3. If you don’t have wedding shots in your portfolio, you should probably work on that.
4. Don’t charge too much. The economy is bad.
5. If your website is ugly, I’m moving on.
6. Don’t congratulate me on my wedding. I know you don’t really care.
7. Read the ad. 80% of the responses don’t apply to my specifications.
8. Website slide-shows are inane if I can’t control how fast they move or when. Galleries are better.
9. Right. Website music is bad. You don’t have the same taste in music as your client.
10. Put your prices and options where I can find them.
11. Don’t confess that you have no experience, I can figure that out and it makes you look bad.
12. I’m the bride, give me what I want.
#12 is a little bitchy, but as far as I’m concerned, this planning a wedding thing is like running a business. I have to be in top form to get this handled and you, the wedding photographer, are my lowly employee. I pay you to capture my special moments and dammit, you better do it! Capture my special moments!
I mostly jest, but I mostly don’t. You’d be amazed how terrible some of the responses have been. It’s almost a joke. I can’t imagine HOW these photographers make money shooting weddings. I assume they shoot one or two friend’s weddings, make a slide show and then start charging.
Oh well. We’ve only just begun. I’m really trying not to stress, but it’s all so overwhelming. How do you create the most special day of your life? Think about that for a second. This day, your wedding day, is touted as one of the most important days of your life. That’s a lot of pressure. Like I said, I just want to pull this thing off. I expect hitches whilst getting hitched and I expect that not everything will go as planned. That said, I am thankful for the aid of my sister, my family, my groom-to-be, and my own self preservation instincts.
Alan Moore Was Right
About a year ago, AJB introduced me to a graphic novel he said changed his life. I felt that way about Sandman. We attended Comic-Con that year. There was a palpable fervor regarding the news that Watchmen was being made into a film. I attended the panel and was one of the first (2000) people to see the trailer. I didn’t know much about the characters or the plot at the time, but I was excited because everyone else was excited and frankly, it looked awesome.
AJB gave me a copy of the graphic novel and I made it through a few chapters before the motion comic made it’s timely way into cyber-space. I’m a slow reader, so the animated version was more my speed. It was, after all, the same thing, frame by frame, only moving and narrated by an actor. It was lovely. Over the next year, I’d catch up as best I could or as time permitted. 12 chapters in all.
As I became increasingly invested in the story, I began to anticipate what I’d heard was a brilliant adaptation of the graphic novel. However, the release date was creeping closer and I was still a few chapters behind. I wanted to know how it ended! I had to know. I couldn’t be the only nerd at the midnight showing who didn’t know how it ended! I crammed the final episodes in before the show and was awestruck. So this is why nerds everywhere hail this as the greatest graphic novel of all time! Everything about it was perfect.
Joined by a full house at the Paseo 14, I sat and watched as a beloved graphic novel was ripped to shreds.
Let me step back a bit. What do comic book lovers want out of movie adaptations of their favorite stories? They want it all, and by gum, they deserve it all. Years of disappointments like X-Men 3, Spiderman 3, The Incredible Hulk (not the Ed Norton one), Transformers, Constantine, Dick Tracy, and countless others have left a bad taste in our mouths. Knowing that adapting a comic book into a film is no easy task, we’ve held our breath in expectation that someone, somewhere, would do it right. Zach Synder, the director of Watchmen, in his undying dedication to the original story, had everyone feeling confident that this could be it. This could be the one. We’d heard that it would out-dark The Dark Knight and would stay true to the 1985 time period. We cheered. Synder convinced us that this would be his love-letter to the Watchmen. Sadly, the promises and hype outweighed the final result.
If you don’t already know the story, it doesn’t matter. Snyder stays true to a great deal of it, but so much has been left out. Granted, 12 chapters of a graphic novel might mean 8 hours of movie (something’s gotta give) but what he gave up was too important. AJB summed it up best when he left the theater and said, “There was no poetry“. Poetry is exactly what makes The Watchmen great: the way it flows, the beating heart of colored images on paper, a story that rang true in 1985 and continues to be poignant 24 years later. How did Synder miss the boat entirely?
Let’s start with the music. For a story that mostly takes place in the 80′s, there was a great deal of 60′s music: Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Janis Joplin, and Jimi Hendrix. It felt wedged in; the sort of choices one might make if they were trying too hard to make an emotional impact – as if some collage student copied a “songs for movies” list from the net. For example, “The Sound of Silence” during The Comedian’s funeral. What? Why? It’s the sort of song that draws longing and desperation, but at this point in the story, we don’t know The Comedian, and we’re not sad that he’s dead…we just want to know why. Most of the music felt like a joke: “Ride of the Valkyries” during the Vietnam sequence was a nod to Apocalypse Now and 99 Red Balloons was your typical nod to the 80′s, even if it was misplaced during Laurie and Dan’s dinner date. None of it fit and it felt forced down our throats. The music editor should be horse whipped for cutting songs off mid-point. Ever hear of a fade out?
I read a review that said Watchmen was “impeccably acted“. Which Watchmen were they watching? I have various complaints about Billy Crudup’s “Dr. Manhatan” as he missed the confusion and desperation of Manhattan’s internal struggle and his failing grasp on humanity. I have fewer complaints about Jackie Earle Haley’s “Rorschach”; who managed to convince me that he was a deranged vigilante who believed that compromise isn’t something you do, even in the face of Armageddon. However, Malin Akerman as “Silk Spectre II” was a whiny, little brat, who didn’t smoke, and didn’t come off as the articulate, but fucked up, lonely, and broken, daughter of an aging superstar super hero. Her performance was feeble – the caliber of acting one might find at local community theater. Her role as the vacuous sister in 27 Dresses was better suited to her abilities. Matthew Goode as “Veidt” missed the mark as a man who sees himself as the savior of humanity, but lets himself feel every death at his hand. I read another review that said if Goode is the smartest man in the world, then we’re really in trouble. I have to agree. Patrick Wilson as “Dan Driegberg” was a mild portrayal that failed to capture the loneliness and yearning of “Nite Owl II”, a man who hated his life and lived a life full of regret and nostalgia. Jeffrey Dean Morgan as “The Comedian” was on par with Haley’s competence as Rorschach, but lacking in conveyance that his character was a bona fide, card carrying asshole; the kind of man that could shoot a pregnant woman, mow down children in Vietnam, and rape Silk Spectre I, yet still find room in his heart to lament the dastardly deeds of Veidt.
Nope. Not a single one of them captured the essence of their characters and communicated the intricacies of The Watchmen. Where was the conflict? Where was the raw anger and the emotional WHY of the things they did? Where was the gut wrenching loneliness and torment?
Numerous imperative details were left from the script. Details small enough that to the idle fan, it won’t matter. Still, the small details form the bigger picture and molds the identity of the story, so why leave them out? Why shouldn’t Laurie smoke? Are you going to tell me that smoking is a worse habit than beating the shit out of someone? Laurie’s frustration with her life is avoided when Dr. Manhattan suggests she go out with Dan, rather than her doing so because she feels absolutely cooped up. The Keane Act is mentioned once. Veidt’s remaining servants: a dozen multi-ethnic scientists rather than 3 Asian lackeys. Nixon retreats to DefCon 1 instead of DefCon 2. The Owl ship comes off as a good place to bone in, but otherwise, The Enterprise gets more camera love in any given Star Trek movie. Furthermore, they must have blown their CG budget on set design and craft services. Veidt’s beloved pet, Bubastis, looked no more real than Snarf from The Thundercats. I could go on an on. I don’t understand. The constant changes (or Snyder-branding) serve no real purpose in omission or alteration.
These missing details were replaced with gratuitous sex and violence that were placed in the foreground. In an interview with Synder, he states that “…it’s the story about a group of retired super heroes, one of which gets murdered in retirement and the others come out of retirement to find out who’s doing that and why“. That’s only part of it. It’s about the state of the world in 1985, which strangely parallels the world we live in now. It’s about the end of the world and how these fucked up characters fit into it. It’s about finding your true self and shifting through the Grey areas of right and wrong. It’s no more about The Comedian’s death than than it is a political statement of the world during the Cold War era. It’s about those things, but it’s so much more. It’s this beautiful tapestry of color and warmth, the harsh realities of human nature, people finding each other in the haze, and how the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. It’s about those things and still, it’s so much more.
Alan Moore has said that The Watchmen is unfilmable. Sadly, I have to say he’s right. This is a fair attempt and there are indeed parts of it that pay off. However, it invariably falls short, missing the mark far too often. It comes off as a hodgepodge of 12 chapters crammed into one; supplemented with graphic sex, full frontal Manhattan, and ultra-violence that would make even Alex from A Clockwork Orange squirm. It’s an unnecessary detour from the original story that lacks vision, heart, and (as AJB said) poetry. Indeed, there are scenes taken directly from the frames of the graphic novel, which merely show us that Snyder knows how to cut and paste. It just doesn’t feel like The Watchmen.
In the end, this isn’t the one. There is so much wrong with it and not enough of the good stuff that it’s just so disappointing, to say the least. Granted, this was a challenge only the fool hearty would undertake. Zach Snyder is a fool who bit off more than he could chew, decimated a beloved graphic novel and churned it into a cheesy superhero whodunit. As if that weren’t enough, the ending is completely altered in such a way that it escapes the complexities of Dr. Manhattan – at the end, you just don’t feel sorry for him…and you should. In fact, you should feel sorry for everyone. In this case, I feel sorry for Zach Snyder, who took a once in a lifetime chance and shit on it.
For a far better adaptation of the film, stick to the motion comic or better yet, watch the Saturday Morning Watchmen:
Two Years Later
Two years later, I still miss my Dad everyday. The tears don’t fall quiet as steadily, but it still hits me from time to time. Through sheer force of will, I have attempted to live my life; a life my Dad would be proud of. Two years later and I continue to wish I could share things with him, tell him my good news, or just hear his voice.
A few months ago, I was trying to fasten around my neck, a necklace that he’d given me. Suddenly, it slipped from my hands and went crashing down on the cold bathroom floor. It was a royal blue, glass heart, vile. I remember when he gave it to me, I asked him what I was supposed to keep in it…drugs? He laughed and said he didn’t know you could keep stuff in it. It wasn’t the most beautiful necklace, in fact, it was sort of cheap. I wore it all the time anyway. I loved it because he gave it to me. He saw it in a store, thought of me, and gave it to me. When I looked down at the hundreds of tiny blue pieces of glass, I burst into tears and was inconsolable for a few moments. It couldn’t be fixed. For a minute, I thought about keeping the shards of glass, but came to my senses. I have other things: Photographs, knick-knacks, mementos, my memories.
Occasionally, it hits me really hard as though I’ve been punched in the chest. My Dad is really gone. It still seems unfair. It remains the great tragedy of my life. I try not to think about him not walking me down the aisle or dancing with me at my wedding – or getting drunk and obnoxious. He wouldn’t like that I’m wearing black, but I’d make some joke about not being a virgin anymore and he’d laugh it off uncomfortably or get annoyed with me for being so crass. He probably wouldn’t like that I’m not getting married in a church in front of God, but I’d work to change his mind the way I did with just about everything. Eventually, he’d see my point.
It’s raining today. My brother JCS and I want to visit his grave site today. Hardly anyone has gone in the last year. Not because they don’t miss him, but because it’s just too painful. It’s raining, so maybe we won’t go. I’ve also had a headache and neck ache since yesterday. I don’t particularly like going to the grave because he’s not really there. It’s a beautiful place, serene and quiet, but he’s not there.
I don’t know if I appreciated him enough when he was here or if I let him know how much I loved him. I hope I did. I think he knew. Still, the one thing I’ve taken from this is that you absolutely need to let people know how you feel. Life is short. Our time on this planet is but the blink of an eye.
It’s a nice thought to think that our loved ones are watching us from Heaven, but I don’t know. I wonder. If it’s true, my Dad can look down from time to time and see that I’m doing just fine. Better, anyway.
It’s the perfect day for rain. It rained the day we put his ashes into the ground.
I miss you, Dad.
Parasites in my belly. I know. Gross, right?
For the last two years, I’ve suffered with eczema. It popped up out of nowhere after my Dad died. All the stress, I guess. At times, it was pretty horrendous. Since then, I’ve attempted to find a natural cure and have come to the conclusion that the only way to totally rid myself of eczema is to change my life. This means, changing the products I use and the food I eat – drinking more water, exercising, sleeping better. I’ve also been working myself up to doing various cleanses. I’m following a protocol recommended by www.curezone.com – which is this gigantic website filled with a gazillion facts, articles, forums, and information about healing yourself with natural remedies.
About Cure Zone: I love the concept and I love that thousands of people are coming together to heal themselves. What I hate about it is that it is THE most confusing website I’ve ever been to. It is so bogged down with information, none of it is really organized or cataloged very well, it’s just this big mess of links and info. It drives me crazy and it actually takes a while to find what you’re looking for…even when you use their search function. Their forums use the old fashioned thread style – which I hate. When you click on a topic, it takes you to the first post, but in order to see the follow ups, you have a click a link that opens a new window. Every time. Furthermore, there are literally THOUSANDS of topics to filter through – which makes finding the information you need, a chore. What’s worse is the forum doesn’t have it’s own search function, it uses Google Search which is far too broad and not very intuitive. Anyway, it’s a crappy website with lots of good information…when you can find it.
That said, AJB and I started a parasite cleanse this on Friday as part of an entire list of various cleanses that need to be done in a certain order. I thought, alright, what the hell? Can’t hurt. It’s just herbs. I wasn’t sure I believed in creepy, Tales from the Crypt worms living in your gut until this morning. Without going into too much graphic bathroom detail, I believe worms live in my gut. They do and I’ve seen them. First of all, it’s horrifying and I’m trying not to think about it. AJB also experienced an anomaly he couldn’t explain. OK, so I’m sold. I’ve got worms. AJB has worms. I think everyone does. We all must. It’s not the sweetest thing to think about, but the fact that I’ve seen it with my own eyes proves that I’m onto something.
The parasite cleanse is rather simple. You start with 3 herbs (black walnut, wormwood, and *cloves). You take them at 3 different intervals during the day and that’s it. Voila! Worm expulsion! We’re on an 18 day treatment, which should eradicate most of the worms living in our bodies.
What’s the point? Parasites can cause all kinds of uncomfortable problems like anemia, asthma, diarrhea, digestive disorders, fatigue, low immune system, nervousness, and skin rash. You see my point? I believe that eczema is a outer reaction to an internal problem. Solve the inner problem and the outer problem goes along with it. Regular doctors can’t help me. I’ve tried. All they can do it treat the symptoms, not the causes. My sister likes to say that we human beings don’t come with operation manuals on how to fix ourselves, but if we take the time to figure it out, it’s simple. I’m paraphrasing, but something like that. The American diet is a death sentence. It’s filled with so much bad crap, it’s no wonder so many people are sick. Think about it, if we all ate healthy, took care of ourselves, and did a cleanse once a year, how many life threatening illnesses simply would not exist? Did the ancient people of the world have restless leg syndrome or cancer? Did they have insomnia or IBS? If so, how did they treat themselves?
I could get into a gigantic rant about medical doctors, the medical industry, and why it’s a good idea to heal yourself, but I haven’t got that kind of time. I think most people, deep down, realize it’s right. I’m not here to preach, either. I’m just doing it because I believe it’s best for me and I’ve seen results.
*Makes you burp clove smell – which is actually kind of nice and reminds me of my old clubbing days at Helter Skelter.


