Haha, so that didn't go exactly as planned. Not surprising since I couldn't identify half of those vegetables I brought home, but I'm already becoming a pro. I have since made 5 other juice drinks that were completely potable and 3 of them were downright delicious. Like everything in life, it just takes practice. My ultimate goal with this juicer is not to radically change my life or my eating habits, I simply want those necessary micro nutrients in my body at all times, not just when I order a salad or have a side of veggies with my steak instead of fries. I'm 35 and I understand that at some point down the road, the absence of minerals, vitamins and enzymes is going to catch up to me. If I can fortify my body and immune system by juicing several times a day, why not? I'm damn excited. And let me tell you , I love this juicer! I did a lot of research before making my purchase, so if you have any questions about why I chose this particular model, feel free to ask in the comments. I'm not trying to sell it, so I won't unload all my reasons here.
Now let me tell you about my day. I'll warn you ahead of time, this story gets a little disgusting towards the end, but nothing vulgar or inappropriate. Okay, on with the story. I learned an important lesson about weather in the Willamette Valley versus weather in the outlying areas: it can be drastically different. I decided to go for a long drive today. There were multiple reasons for my longing to escape Salem, but I'd rather not go into them right now, so for the sake of this story let's just say I wanted to escape the torrential rain that has tortured Salem for far too long. When it was time to depart, I pointed my little car in a direction that took me over winding country roads, alongside a raging river, past several dams, through quiet rural towns, and into the heart of the Oregon wilderness. The Salem rains followed me the entire way.
It was still a nice drive, though. I had several new music albums picked out and traffic wasn't so terrible. At one point the rain became so heavy I had my wipers on the fastest setting and still had trouble seeing, and it was at that moment the driver side wiper flew off my windshield. About three weeks back I decided to buy new windshield wipers because the ones I had were old and squeaked badly, but I bought the wrong size and they didn't snap into place correctly. I put them on the best I could using force and luck, and they stayed, but I knew I needed to eventually fix that problem. And since I just don't drive very much, I sort of pushed it out of my mind. I pulled over and moved the passenger side wiper over to the driver side (it actually snapped and locked into place) and left the arm sticking out on the other side so it wouldn't scratch the glass. That other wiper was gone, I couldn't find it, so I pressed on in my crippled state. Mind you, if you are a T-Mobile customer, once you leave Salem and enter the Oregon wild, you are on your own. I had no service on my phone this entire trip.
So there I am driving along, still content with my travels. As the elevation increased, though, the rain gave way to snowfall and pretty soon I found myself behind a line of vehicles doing about 35mph. As we climbed higher into the mountains the road grew narrower due to the giant snow walls on either side from previous plowings. I'll go ahead and say it, my car sucks in the snow. Heck, it sucks in the rain too. It's a sporty car with stupid tires and high torque. It likes to spin wheels and slide around, but I grew up in the northeast and am accustomed to winter driving, and the signs didn't require snow chains (yet), so I pressed on. It wasn't long before things got pretty nasty. Up ahead weather (and traffic) took a turn for the worst and people were pulling off to chain up while others keep pushing on. I don't have chains, so I just kept on. As I began a steep ascent up an enormous pile of dirt that definitely qualifies being labeled as "a huge fucking mountain", I finally ran into trouble. The car in front of me skidded to a stop forcing me to do the same, and once I lost momentum that was it for me. Wheels spinning, car sliding, I knew I wasn't going up, so when traffic was clear I spun my front end around and drove back to the flat spot at the bottom.
Parked down below in a plowed pull-over area for chain-ups, I thought about a second attempt. I felt that if I could just keep my momentum the whole time I stood a chance. So I turned around, waited for a huge gap, and sped my way back up the mountain. I got further than before, but ran into the same exact problem as before, only this time I came to rest on a section of road that sloped hard to the right. As I tried spinning my front end around to the left, it slid quickly to my right and I came to rest against the snow wall. That was it, there was no turning around now without help. I summoned help from others, who in turn asked me to help them push a car. With my right shoulder still quite fragile I tried my best using only my hip and left arm, but the man in charge was not pleased with my actions. I think he thought I was faking the torn rotator cuff story. If I only had my sling!
Needless to say, I got turned around and started my southern skedaddle. My northeastern ego was bruised, I knew I had been beaten. I began my slow journey back down the snow-covered mountain road behind a line of slow-moving cars and trucks. And that's when my intestines started talking to me. There was nothing quiet about the conversation they were having, it was more like an immediate S.O.S. distress call that screamed, "Pull over NOW or shit in your pants and car!" I broke out in a sweat, clenched every abdominal muscle and used every trick in the book, but this was no ordinary movement. And then it dawned on me... my new Omega juicer. In my excitement of getting it, I had consumed many large cups of those juice drinks and hadn't released the beast yet. And it wanted out NOW. With the giant snow walls on both sides there was absolutely nowhere to pull over, and with traffic in front and behind I was in an impossible predicament. I scanned ahead for a plowed pull-off area, squeezing my cheeks and doing the butt hop trot in my seat all the while. And right when I could hold it no longer, a pull-off spot appeared. I quickly slid to a stop, flipped on my hazards, jumped out and raced around the car, opened the passenger door, dropped pants and squatted. Holding onto the door with my right and the car frame with my left, I squatted as low as I could hoping to avoid being seen by passing traffic. It was then that reality hit: I had no toilet paper. Faced with zero other options, I removed my shirt and offered it up in sacrifice to the great Omega Beast. And just as I was doing this I heard the crunching sound of wheels pulling up behind me. Over my shoulder I saw a man exit his big Ford truck and walk over to where I shat. I tried waving him off and yelled out frantically, "I'm okay! I'm fine! I'm just sick!" but he kept coming, probably because the curiosity of a shirtless guy in the falling snow was too much to ignore. When he reached the corner of my car he bent his body around and saw me squatting naked above a puddle of green and purple muck on bright white holding a shirt between my legs. He turned, walked back to his truck and rode off without saying a word. He didn't have to, the expression on his face said it all.
Now that I have bared my most embarrassing story, I feel you should too. Write on, fellow bloggers. And don't give me any shit!