Thursday, July 13, 2006

The Return of Surge Is Imminent

About a month ago, I bought a juicer. Specifically, this juicer. Now I know you all think I’m mental to begin with, but now you’re really going to think my porch light’s not on.

I named the juicer. Seriously. I named it Surge. I did this for a few reasons:

1) Surge sounded so much nicer than JE95;

2) I used to have this really bitchin’ awesome cat named Serge, and just saying the name brings back warm fuzzy memories of a warm fuzzy kitty who was the spawn of a cat I adopted when I was 19 and moved into this shithole house in Simi Valley with five other girls and the girl who lived in my room before me abandoned this cat who it turns out was pregs, and then during the week of the summer solstice shortly after she gave birth to her kittens, she was abducted by Satan worshippers along with all the other dogs and cats on our block so I had to painstakingly bottle-feed four screaming-clawing-with-razor-sharp-claws-on-bare-legs-in-summer kittens six times a day and kept the little baby long-haired grey and white girl who later it turned out was really a boy whose little gonads hadn’t yet dropped but I was already treating him like a girl and using my high-pitched girly-pet voice and imagined he must have been gay because of how I treated him all girly, so the only name that seemed to fit was that of the dude from Beverly Hills Cop (“Vould you like a little lemon tvist?..... Nah, it's no trouble, dun’t be stewpit.”) and later in his adult life when I lived in Redondo Beach, Serge would go up and down the driveways of all my neighbors’ homes and chat with them individually each day, and they all knew Serge (by his name tag), but didn’t even know me, that’s how cool of a cat he was -- I would be in front of my house and people I didn't even know would walk past and go "Hey Serge" and Serge would go "Hey, 'sup dawg?". He lived to a very ripe old age. And nobody could ever replace Serge. That’s why I spell the juicer’s name Surge. But it still makes me happy to say Surge. Or Serge.

3) Surge got me off coffee. I swear. And we’re talking about a serious coffeehound since the age of ninth grade when cramming for finals became a part of my adolescent repertoire. I love me some coffee, man. But with the green lemonade that Surge gives me in the morning, coffee, eh! Sniff! It has no appeal for me. I am so jazzed up and stoked with vitamins that there is no need for caffeine. Even for a non-morning-person! This I consider the act of a friend. A friend helps you say goodbye to unhealthy habits and embrace healthy new ones. A friend would not be named Model JE95, or “the juicer” (sounds waaaaaay too OJ Simpson for me), or just “that there appliance gizmo thingy there”. No, a friend has a name. And my friend’s name is Surge.

Well, a couple of blissful weeks after getting Surge, and having fresh green lemonade daily or fresh carrot/apple juice (shut up and try it!) or whatever combinations we came up with, there were sunshine and unicorns and flowers in my world, but it became apparent that Surge had a problem. Surge would spit juice out the sides whenever the produce went down the chute. I don’t just mean the “Say it, don’t spray it” kind of juice that comes out when you’re talking to an over-enthusiastic close-face-talker, I’m talking more like the kind of spray that comes out of a broken sprinkler.

This sucks rotten eggs.

I called the company and they said there must be a defect. Surge shouldn’t be doing that. I would have to pack up Surge and gingerly place him in a box with wadded up Old Navy shopping bags and send him back. In other words, I would have to part with Surge for an indefinite period of time. Ooooooh this made me very, very bitter and cold. But I did it with the hopes that soon, there would be a new Surge in his place that didn’t spew out juice in my face in the wee early morning hours.

Days turned into a week. A week turned into a week and a half. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I called the company again, tense and shaking, and inquired about the whereabouts of my new and improved Surge.

I think I stated my issue quite calmly. In my mind’s version, it went something like this:

Me: “Well hello, jolly good sir, I wonder if you might give me the latest status on the arrival of my new juicer. An ETA, perhaps?”

Juicer Company Guy: “Why yes ma’am, that juicer is en route to you and should arrive tomorrow.”

Me: “Jolly good of you, kind old chap. Cheerio!”

But I’m sure it went more something like this:

Me: (crackhead edgy stuttering) “Look, man. WTF is my new juicer, man???? What’s the holdup, man????? I once had solid hope for like, the concept of like, having to get up and exist in the mornings, man. That hope is gone, man! Gone! Gone daddy gone! Love is gone! You took it away from me, you, you, you, you dickface! Gimme back my juicer, man! Even if it’s still broken! Alrighty??!!!! Then I won’t have to cut you!”

Juicer Company Guy: “Why yes ma’am, that juicer is en route to you and should arrive tomorrow.”

Me: (grateful sobs) Click.

Thank God. Thank you for Surge. I never knew I needed him so bad.

P.S. -- Recipe for Green Lemonade. One try, and you will understand how it can get you off coffee and make you happy to be alive and stuff. (All ingredients organic, of course.)

1 whole head of celery
1 whole lemon (unpeeled)
1 whole apple (Fuji rocks the best in this)
5-6 pieces of kale

Put all in juicer and drink. The lemon cuts out that greenie taste that nobody likes and makes it taste like -surprise!- lemonade. This recipe is from the book The Raw Food Detox Diet by Natalia Rose.

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