by CHRIS BARRY

I've always had a problem with vegetables. In fact, I am totally grossed out by them. Their smell, their texture, the gelatinous fluid that seeps

insidiously out and contaminates the rest of your dinner plate, causing a gag reflex that you'll be conditioned to for oh so many years to come--it ain't right.

I got smart to vegetables when I was about two years old and haven't eaten any since. That's a long time now. Shit, the last time a carrot was wedged through these stubborn lips, John F. Kennedy's body was still warm and flexible. Don't bother doing the math. Let's just say, I'm up there.

So, as old folks are wont to do, I've recently started giving more thought to the wretched state of my health and been forced to reconsider the wisdom of my vegetable boycott. It pains me to say it, but I'm honestly coming to believe that a person could probably live a happier, healthier and longer life if they expanded their diet beyond the basic food staples of fried chicken and BBQ ribs.

Which is all fine and dandy, but the fact remains that vegetables are gross, and no amount of therapy or hypnosis is going to brainwash me into believing otherwise. I mean, think about it, this shit comes out of the ground! It's like eating dirt or something. Dirt that barnyard animals and dogs and drunken frat boys might have pissed on.

So one can imagine the dilemma I am faced with. Either succumb to the complex and macabre world of the vegetable, or wait another couple of years for my colon to burst or my heart to attack and let them write on my tombstone that I was a man of integrity who never wavered in his struggle with the evil yam and its cronies from the garden of Hell.

Doing well in stool

Over the past few years, a host of health food corporations have been masking as back-to-the-earth hippies and putting out these highly popular "greens" products--powdered vegetable poopoo with a whole bunch of other healthy stuff thrown in for good measure. And, goddamnit, some of this crud is amazing! Shee-it, pa, some don't even taste like vegetables at all.

My personal saviour is a guy named Udo Erasmus, an earnest little twerp from B.C. who's come out with a cornucopia of food supplements under his Udo's Choice label. According to Udo, the secret to eternal good health and happiness rests in a steady diet of his products, and everything else is going to kill you.

I first came to physically experience the power of Udo through his Beyond Greens product--a killer combo of organic green foods, herbal extracts and digestive enzymes--and holy cow, after a few days of the shit I was feeling like a million bucks! I was suddenly alive, goddamnit, full of energy and eager to live life to the fullest. And the bowel movements! Oh lord, the bowel movements Udo has delivered to me have been unspeakably glorious. The texture, the regularity, the aroma, I could write a book on the splendour of my stools since Udo has come into my life. Not only that, but I didn't get sick all winter. Not even a sniffle. Un-fuckin'-believable!

Now I'm totally hooked and the righteous sonofabitch has got me swigging back his Ultimate Oil Blend of "healing fats" twice a day and looking for an extra job so I can afford to get regularly whacked out on his super-duper patented Enzyme Formula as well. If you think my turds are nice now, just wait 'till I get a few more enzymes in me. It's like falling in love all over again.

High on Sam-E

In addition, I've been investigating this Sam-E product that's all the rage in the States. It's an over-the-counter mood elevator the Italians have been popping for over 20 years and, apparently, it's all natural--which usually means it's no good. Sam-E has a rep of being like speed, minus the teeth-grinding. A "subtle buzz," its unofficial proponents say.

I recently had the opportunity to ingest a couple of days' worth and, though it was not long enough for me to really trip on the total Sam-E experience, I did undeniably feel "full of beans." They've just started pushing Sam-E in Canada. Unfortunately, at $45 a bottle it's probably more tempting for many people to just head on over to the Main and buy a quarter of blow--although that might not be as good for you and, most importantly, Udo Erasmus would definitely not approve. H