Save the squirrel, but not the nuts

Last modified on 2010-09-06 18:16:37 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

A gunman walked into the Silver Spring HQ of Discovery and took hostages. This piece is about his manifesto, which is too good to pass up. Don’t take my satire and sarcasm to mean that I in ANYWAY believe that he was justified or even sane. For the mere act of pointing a gun at innocent people, and for terrorizing them he should be held down and let every person he affected kicked in the gonads and then spend some intense years in jail. I just want to say that. But since he’s dead, I think we can figure he got what he deserved.

The Discovery Channel and it’s affiliate channels MUST have daily television programs at prime time slots based on Daniel Quinn’s “My Ishmael” pages 207-212 where solutions to save the planet…A game show format contest would be in order. MAKE IT INTERESTING SO PEOPLE WATCH AND APPLY SOLUTIONS!!!!

Look, dude I’ve watched some of that TV TLC puts out on the air too. I get it makes you crazy, but, trust me, we don’t need another game show. And no amount of ammo you got is making me watch Kate plus 8.

All programs on Discovery Health-TLC must stop encouraging the birth….In those programs’ places, programs encouraging human sterilization and infertility must be pushed.

This seems a little extreme to most of you, but I get his point. I mean Heidi Montag is still fertile! What if she reproduces?! Clearly he didn’t mean the rest of us. My children are awesome.

All programs promoting War and the technology behind those must cease.

True dat. I can only watch Band of Brothers, three, four more times- tops.

Civilization must be exposed for the filth it is.

This guy is WORKING on it, watch his commercial. Give him some time to work his magic. Helllooo ladies.

Immigration: Programs must be developed to find solutions to stopping ALL immigration pollution and the anchor baby filth that follows that. Find solutions to stopping it.

The native americans have been saying this for YEARS. Holy hell, it’s about time all these white people got the hell outta here.

Find solutions for Global Warming, Automotive pollution, International Trade, factory pollution, and the whole blasted human economy.

Yeah, cause let’s move to a bear-based economy. Um….can someone tell me how that works? Do we pay each other in salmon?

Develop shows that will correct and dismantle the dangerous US world economy.

Develop shows that will dismantle the US economy? Are you not watching Jersey Shore?!

For every human born, ACRES of wildlife forests must be turned into farmland in order to feed that new addition over the course of 60 to 100 YEARS of that new human’s lifespan! THIS IS AT THE EXPENSE OF THE FOREST CREATURES!!!!

Anyone else get the feeling that this guy was REALLY upset that Bambi’s mother got shot?

NO MORE BABIES!

I think I speak for everyone when I say we are more than happy that you won’t be breeding.

Saving the environment and the remaning species diversity of the planet is now your mindset. Nothing is more important than saving them. The Lions, Tigers, Giraffes, Elephants, Froggies, Turtles, Apes, Raccoons, Beetles, Ants, Sharks, Bears, and, of course, the Squirrels.

Save the squirrels! Now THAT is a rallying cry.

The humans? The planet does not need humans.

Well, it doesn’t need certain KIND of humans. Maybe ones that walk into workplaces with guns?? Hmmmm?

These are the demands and sayings of Lee.

Fuck you, asshole.

Keep Calm and Carry On

Last modified on 2010-08-25 19:35:02 GMT. 4 comments. Top.

People, we have a government in CRISIS. It has come to my attention that a key cabinet position has gone unfulfilled. This position is of the utmost importance,  and the weightiest of roles- to keep vermin out of the halls of power. Fourtunately, for those of us in the United States we are not effected by the egregious oversight. But our neighbors accross the pond, are IN CRSIS and need us in their time of need. I am going to tell you how I am going to help them in a moment, but, first more about this important government seat of power.

Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office.

Yes, you read that right. You may think I am making this up, but I don’t make stuff up. On Tuesdays. This exalted position was first held by a cat named Treasury Bill. Unfortunate moniker aside, he did his job so well, that he was replaced by Peter. And Peter was replaced by…well, you can look at the list yourself.

Sybil, the last cat left 10 Downing Street in 2009, reportedly to live out his retirement in the lap of luxury. But, now….NOW? There’s no one! How does this country function each and every day? I get that whole British ‘stiff upper lip’ thing and all, but this goes beyond the pale. And it is a situation that MUST be rectified.

In case you didn’t know, the Prime Minister is off cooing over his new baby. What kind of man goes off to celebrate the addition of his houseold when he knows his country is on the brink. Listen, Mr. Brown, even now as we speak the  mice are planning and plotting. It could be ANY DAY NOW. I implore you to ACT NOW!

Rumor has it that the Queen is not pleased, but sources could not confirm that before press time.

My good readers, keep the UK and its shoddy, broken government in your thoughts. They need all the support they can get.

P.S. I have a killer cat that would be perfect for job, and she might even overlook your funny accents.

P.P.S. – I have outfitted a box for the cat with plenty of airholes (don’t need PETA after me, y’all) now, just tell where to send it to?

P.P.P.S- I’m a giver.

P.P.P.P.S.- Hurry up with the address, she’s biting through the box.

How much to Eat, Pray, and Love?

Last modified on 2010-08-16 23:17:37 GMT. 42 comments. Top.

I won’t be going to see the new Julia Robert’s movie Eat, Pray, Love. In fact, every time a trailer comes on for it on the TV, it’s all I can do not to run screaming from the house.

If you don’t know the story, the movie is based on a book which is based on a trip that overindulged white woman had to take to find herself. Read that sentence again, because I mean EVERY WORD.

I get it. A middle aged woman has lost her ‘gusto’ for life. She was going through a nasty divorce, and perhaps even lost her country home. Believe me, I know how traumatizing losing a country home can be. So she decides to…wait for it…take a year off. Wow, why didn’t I think of that?! Yes, she takes a year off and goes to Italy, India and Bali. She is going to how to learn how to eat, pray, and love. And then- THEN- she is going to come back to the US and write a book about it, so that we can all experience her self-indulged year-long temper tantrum. Seriously.

First, let’s be practical. This trip cost her well over $100,000. AT LEAST. That doesn’t include the lost wages and opportunities. Do you have that kind of money? Neither do I. And if I did, I wouldn’t waste it on a trip to commune with elephants for a year. My kids need to go to college, yo.

But never fear, she is going to get her money back. And then some. Who’s going to give it to her? All of us who fawn over her and soak up her bits of wisdom as if she is the second coming of Ghandi. We are going to buy her book (cha-ching), her perfume (cha-ching), buy her trip-inspired merchandise on HSN (CHA-CHING, BABY!). We will be the poorer, she the richer and will you have learned something profound from it all?

No.

I mean it, you won’t.

Let’s imagine for a moment that you could take this wonderful trip- that you could pause your home, career, kids (don’t forget this woman does not have kids. And she needs to get away from stress? That lady does not know stress.) and go to where ever you need to go to ‘find’ yourself.

A couple of things will become apparent:

1) Ms. Gilbert’s realizations will not be your realizations. Yours would be different. Therefore to read about hers are meaningless.

2) The world will move on without you. Your friends will go away, you job will go away, and all will be unforgiving about your need for discovery.

3) Your book will suck and no one will buy it.

4) You will not look like Julia Roberts or meet someone like Javier Bardem.

Save your money and your time. You don’t need to go to India or Bali or Italy to find your zest for life. You don’t need to buy the book, the perfume, the clothes to get in touch with your inner self. Trust me.

I wasn’t going to write this post

Last modified on 2010-08-09 22:10:58 GMT. 25 comments. Top.

Really…

I wasn’t.

It’s no secret that I hated BlogHer, that I left early, that I didn’t….fit in.

It’s true. I didn’t want to admit that, I didn’t want to be upset by it. I want to move on. But I can’t write anything until I write this post. Nothing else will come to mind.

So I vowed to change, to be more likable, to be less me. Smile more, chat more, pretend to be interested more.

And then I know if I do that, I would never write again. Not. A. Single. Word.

To realize that I was a NOT- not ‘part’ of the group, not invited when other bloggers I knew got together, not in the right place- cut me to the core.

Where does that leave me? The same place I have always been. On the outside looking in, on the periphery.

There are people that I finally got to meet in NY that I loved, and will go out of my way to meet again. Others I had been dying to meet, but a few seconds with them was more than I needed to realize that they were not for me.

I couldn’t find my mojo, my verve, my awesomeness.

This is the part where I vow never to set foot in BlogHer again. Except I can’t. Cause I might.

I’m hardcore like that.

A Shipwreck

Last modified on 2010-08-07 14:49:23 GMT. 14 comments. Top.

I laugh when people say “I was overwhelmed, too.” Not at their kindness, for that is what it is. And I am grateful that they extend it to me. But I laugh nonetheless.

These people forget what I do for a living.

I work for people who are mentioned on the news, a company with billions in revenue. When I walk into rooms, and the company that I work for is printed on my name tag- people come to me.

I am not overwhelmed, nothing about this experience can overwhelm me more than the work I do on a daily basis.

But I am in distress nonetheless. A distress and sadness that is pushed down and put into nice little boxes and set on a shelf. Until the shelf is full, and I have no more boxes.

The waves of sadness come in, and threaten to overwhelm. One wave after another…

I am divorced.

I am single.

I am broke.

I am busy.

There are too many emails to return, calls to make, appointments to keep.

To go under is inevitable for women in my family. We always do. Sometimes for moments, sometime for years, sometimes more.

We are shipwrecked and marooned on our island with only our depression to keep us company. Until we tire of the sadness, the loneliness, the emptiness.

Then we wade into the water and head for shore. We take a piece of depression with us, but we are grateful for those who who extend their hand to help pull us up.

The new friends.

The old friends.

Family.

We know that we will be overwhelmed and sad again, and we get out our boxes and start to fill them up. Until we end up on the island again.

But I have hope. Because even though every woman in my family knows depression inside and out, even though we have sat on that island and contemplated the depths of our despair. We always swim back.

We always come back,

Always.

It a SEKKRIT!

Last modified on 2010-08-02 03:44:17 GMT. 2 comments. Top.

I can be a clicking fool…I click on links and end up on some site that has NO resemblance of my initial click. Often, these clicking sprees end up on forums or message boards. I say it ends here, because once I read a couple of messages from society’s best and brightest, I have to turn off the computer for fear of scarring my mind FOREVER.

Here is some gem that I simply couldn’t pass up:

This works in ANY WAL-MART IN THE UNITED STATES or ASDA in the U.K…. .The SECRET CODE that most wifes look for looking for action is A MAN WEARING A RED BALL-CAP or A RED RAG or SCARF IN BACK POCKET. Most wifes are on the PROWL between 9 am and 11 am when kids in school and hubby at work or after 8PM when kids in bed. Hang around the toilet, womens department or Dressing rooms…. do NOT go into the change rooms unless INVITED by a wife,this occurs often….The RED COLOR signals you are READY ,WILLING AND ABLE.Just a nod and a wink and your ready to hook up! Do it every day for a week and YOU WILL GET LUCKY! WORKS in ALL WAL-MARTS.MOST lonely wifes around the U.S. and U.K know the red ball-cap signal or red scarf secret signal.

Wowsa…All this time I DIDN’T KNOW! But, dammit, now I’m all single and stuff. IF ONLY I’D KNOWN!!!

So let me get this straight, they will give you a secret signal, (and, of course, you must pay careful attention), then the wives will remove all their clothing and fling themselves at you? Naturally, this is a special secret signal, and you must watch for it very carefully.

Wal-Mart will never be the same for me.

But really.

There is SO MUCH wrong with this. First of all, an ASDA? ASDA’s are tiny. You can’t get anything done there. On the prowl, seriously? When my kids aren’t around, I’m not ON THE PROWL. Check that, I AM on the prowl- for a Cosmo and a pedicure. And let’s just say that I was hard up- why would I do it in a toilet?  The imagery alone makes me want to take a vow of chastity.

A nod and a wink? Woo, THAT’S original. Also? The warning NOT TO GO into the dressing room unless invited? I say try it. See where it gets you. I mean you’re ALREADY trolling for sex at the Wal-Mart. Life isn’t going much lower for you. Why not tack on an arrest?

But the real question that I want to know is, if a man wears a read ball cap and there is not Wal-Mart (or ASDA) around- does the ‘lonely’ wife feel a desire? A desire to shop for polyester shirts?

What if…?

Last modified on 2010-07-27 02:40:50 GMT. 6 comments. Top.

I hate the “What if…?” game, but I can’t help playing it. Especially this week. On Wednesday, for the first time since the divorce, I will hand over my children to my ex-husband. They will stay with him for a week and a half. I need this break desperately, they need time with their dad, plus I am traveling. But that hand over will cause me to have a full scale meltdown.

What if they like being with him better?

What if he says bad things about me (he won’t, he’s a good person, but the What if game isn’t about logic)?

What if they don’t want to come back?

How would I live without my children?

What if he’s a better parent?

What if they think that the person he’s living with is better mom?

What if she’s a better cook (not a stretch considering I hate to cook)?

What if….?

What if…?

Dear God, this is going be hard.

Meet My New Blog Mascot

Last modified on 2010-07-24 02:01:03 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

In honor of ComicCon I think it’s time to honor the superhero in my life: Captain Obvious. He is the man that makes sure he says annoying things about stuff we already know, spouts wisdom on topics which we are already well versed, lets no cliche go unsaid, and, in general, just points out the the things right in front of our face. His talents are boundless.

Captain Obvious is everywhere. Take for instance this baking heat. One of the apps that I have on my Android is Weather Bug. Weather Bug has sent me so many heat advisory alerts that I feel that Captain Obvious must be working overtime. I KNOW IT’S HOT. Stop telling me it’s hot. I KNNOOOWWW. You do not need to tell me to stay inside and avoid staying outside too long. I KNNNOOWWWW. And if I didn’t know, the fact that my car tires are in danger of melting would TELL ME.

The ones who really need all the awesomeness that is Captain Obvious are the DUMBASSES that go out an run in this heat. He should swoop down in a cape (yes, of  course, the cape is a superhero cliche…he’s Captain Obvious! DUH!) and inform said stupid jogger that it is INDEED hot and he should not be running. And that he looks stupid jogging in lycra in 100 degree weather. Both OBVIOUS to everyone else.

One of Captain Obvious’ alter ego is the mild mannered office worker. A cubicle dweller who stops by your office/cubicle to carry out his superhero duties even in disguise. Here are few instances of Captain Obvious at work:

Me (busy, with 20 internet tabs open, email, IM)

Captain Obvious (CO): Hey, you look busy.

(Really, Captain Obvious, REALLY?! No, this is just an act. I got up early, came to this place, and set up all this sham ‘work’ JUST TO FOOL YOU).

Another gem:

(To understand this one you have to know that I rarely turn on the light in the coffee room. There is more than enough light coming in from the hallway and from the light over the sink.)

CO: It’s dark in here. (Flips on light.)

(Really, CO, REALLY? You HAVE to waste the energy of those 10 florescent lights to make ONE cup of coffee. What are you? BLIND?!)

So Captain Obvious, this post is for you. And since I have had so much fun writing about you, I think you will be a regular guest here on my blog. In fact, I’ll draw a picture of you and make you my little mascot.

Hey y’all Amy has a new mascot for her blog- CAPTAIN OBVIOUS! OK, I need ideas on what he should look like, c’mon you got to come through for me. I know you can do it.

But I leave you with Captain Obvious’ best line ever, heard just today at a restaurant:

“Do you want to start off with a drink?”

What clued you in? The funnel I brought in?!

Summer of Suck

Last modified on 2010-07-18 22:33:45 GMT. 11 comments. Top.

This summer was going to be AWESOME! It was going to RULE! I had everything in place months beforehand. Even with the divorce in April, I still felt I had it TOGETHER. My mom had rented a house out west for us three kids and we were all going to get together for the first time in AT LEAST 12 years. BlogHer in August. I had even found a babysitter for the kids, which is usually the hardest part of the having the kids out of the school. I. WAS. SET.

MY. LIFE. IS. SHIT.

First, my ex screwed me over on the bills. So when I was moving I had to pay two fulls months of bills for TWO places. His thought was “I haven’t lived there in two weeks, I shouldn’t have to pay.” It put me behind in the worst time, right when I was trying to get stuff on track. Maybe ‘screwed me over’ isn’t the right word, our divorce has been nothing if not civil. Perhaps, unhelpful is a better word. It was a small bump in the road, a small bump that was magnified by all of the other financial duties of divorce. (And, in case you can’t tell, I am TERRIBLE with financial stuff, awful, terrible, just crap.)

Next, my daughter was in a swimming class that went terribly wrong. I have been debating for a while whether or not to write about it. And in case I decide to, I will let you know that it will be post filled with lots of four letter words and hate. Essentailly one of the coaches was AN ASS to my daughter. I still smolder over that.

Then I lost the babysitter. She had a very close friend die, and there were no hard feelings when she said she could no longer babysit. But what we didn’t know was that she had mono, and because my daughter STILL picks up random cups and drinks out of them, she now has mono. She sleeps 12-16 hours a day. It’s freaking AWFUL.

Next, I had to give up on the idea of going out west to see my mom and siblings. No money.

I may have to give up my idea of going to BlogHer. Same reason.

I am having trouble getting my company off the ground, because, you guessed it, same reason.

There have been some bright spots- my trip to The Daily Show, a momzshare event coming up, a successful event for the Baltimore Social Media Club.

But, for all intents and purposes, I am calling this season THE SUMMER OF SUCK.

My Friend Ezra

Last modified on 2010-07-11 02:18:58 GMT. 3 comments. Top.

Hello
My name is Ezra i saw your profile today at(xxxxx.me)and became interested in you,i will also like to know you the more,and i want you to send an email to my email address so i can give you my picture for you to know whom i am.

Here is my email address(xxxxx@yahoo.com)

I believe we can move from here!

I am waiting for your mail to my email address above.

(Remember the distance or colour does not matter but love matters a lot in life). NB!! please mail me in my private box not in the site ok
(xxxxx@yahoo.com)
———————————————————————————————————————
Dearest Ezra-

Thanks so much for contacting me. I considered contacting you, because as you state distance and color doesn’t matter, but then I realized that you spelled color with a u like some pretentious British prick, and knew that things would not work out for us. But I really hope that you do find love, since you seem so agreeable, and, let’s be honest here, have such low standards. In the interest of friendship, I would like to help you out.  You see, it occurs to me that you have made some critical mistakes in this letter, ones that should not be repeated, and, now that we’re friends, I’m going to help you out.

First you neglect to capatialize your i’s in the first sentence. This is obviously a sign that you have low self esteem issues. Don’t be so down on yourself, Ezra! You are obviously outgoing, since you sent this note without so much as a ‘are you single’. Use that to your advantage.

Next, you move right to the “asking for an email” mistake. Oh no! You need to compliment my looks first. I know I don’t have a picture on the site, but don’t let that stop you. Go ahead and tell me I’m beautiful. I will confirm this when I send the picture that you ask for, in fact, here’s one now.

The Life of A Shut-In

Last modified on 2010-07-09 02:52:04 GMT. 9 comments. Top.

I don’t know if you’ve heard but it’s summer. And it’s hot, so hot, in fact, that when people break out the lame heat cliches I cannot even muster the energy to slap them. I think we all lose in that situation.

Going outside takes more energy than I seem to have these days. And the CAR. Screw the environment, I’m leaving that shit running ALL THE DAMN TIME, just in case I have to go somewhere.

I should be out doing things. I mean it’s summer, I should be out taking walks with my dog, frolicking in a field of wildflowers, boating, you know all the stuff I NEVER do, and never want to do. Ever. So I stay inside, all the time. This is bad for a couple of reasons. One, we need food. Otherwise, we will be having celery sandwiches with a side of mustard for dinner tomorrow. (The upside of that? Don’t have to turn on the stove. Booyah!)

Another reason? I’m going to need to mow the lawn soon. Otherwise, the HOA will come looking for me, and you know how I feel about THOSE PEOPLE. (On another note: Today, I had to go outside to take out some trash. Among the few blades that have survived the heat wave and no rain, I found a dead mouse and rabbit leg. Proof that my cat’s killing spree continues.)

But last night, I DID have to go out. For a party, and parties mean dressing up and dressing up means spanx, and bustiers, and make-up. All the things that make being hot all the more miserable.

So today, I did not go out at all. Think meals on wheels will deliver?

The Last Airbender

Last modified on 2010-07-03 00:46:06 GMT. 3 comments. Top.

If you follow me on twitter or facebook, then you know I have been in a perpetual state of anticipation for a movie that came out this week. The Last Airbender. I was SO excited it was going to be my next entry in The Bucket of Awesome. But then, the reviews came out. And ouch. It looked bad, really bad. And suddenly I was scared. I didn’t WANT to see it, I didn’t want to ruin a story that had become one of my favorites. But my kids have reached that age where they KNOW things, and they knew that the movie had been released and I had promised to take them to see it. I had to stick by my promise. So I took a deep breath, pushed all those reviews aside, and went to see it. (In 2D, I am SO over 3D, and this is not a 3D movie, take my advice, SKIP the 3D.)

And?

I liked it. I ALMOST loved it, but I definitely liked it. Here’s why.

First, the story. The movie is based on a fictional earth…wait, excuse me a minute (Mr. Ebert, could you come here a sec? Yeah, just need to tell you something. So you know that review you did of the The Last Airbender? The one where you were all It’s really bad? Remember that? Good. Here’s the thing- next time you review a movie MAKE SURE YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S ABOUT. This isn’t based in some ‘future’ time, after some apocalypse. Holy cow! How did you EVEN come up with that shit? It’s a fantasy world, like, say Tatooine or Middle Earth. Duuude, retire. Retire now.)

Ok, back to the movie. Ficitonal earth. In this earth some people can bend elements, but only one, the Avatar, can master all four. After he dies he is reincarnated, so Avatars have been around forever. At the start of the movie, Katara and Sakka find Aang who has been frozen in ice for over hundred years, and who is now The Last Airbender, and also, the Avatar.

You can’t talk about this movie without talking about the elephant in the room. The white actors. M. Night Shyamalan is now universally reviled for being racist for casting white actors in roles, that (some say) are clearly Asian in the cartoon series. I say, it was a gamble. It didn’t pay off, but in this fictional earth as in the real earth there are many races, and he tried to portray those. The worst cast, by far, is Katara, But the others work, and Dev Patel does a good job as Prince Zuko, and will bring the depth the character needs in later chapters. Some say the Aang is the worst, and I can see why. His delivery of lines is cringe worthy. But he gets a pass. Why? He does the avatar part well, and he’ll get better. (Anyone watched the first Harry Potter movie again, lately. Dude, Radcliffe is embarrassing.)

But how did Shyamalan treat the material? For the fans, this is the most important questions. And the answer is, in some cases, very well, in others, he did the best he could. Here is what I miss: Aang is a child, we miss that playfulness of him as you rush through the scenes, and Sakka is Mr. Sarcasm- and the comic relief. That needs to come back next time. Seriously. And a warning: I see that you are playing with idea of Zuko and Katara being together. DO. NOT. DO. IT. You have been warned.

Should you go see it? If you liked the series, and can get past the fact that it won’t look like a cartoon¹, then yes. Some moments are to die for (all within the last half hour, sadly). And you will like the changes the director has made. If you have never seen the cartoon, then maybe read up about it on a wiki, and go see it, I give you a 50/50 chance at liking it.

And Aapa and MoMo are cute.

There are three books in the series: Water, Earth, and Fire. And, hopefully, three movies. So please hire a writer, next time. This is mandatory. And build on what you did here, Mr. Shyalaman. It wasn’t your best work, but neither did you ‘ruin’ the franchise. It does needs some improvement. But not Iroh, Iroh is perfect. Just needs to drink more tea next time.

What you need to know

Last modified on 2010-06-26 18:56:08 GMT. 2 comments. Top.

A couple of months ago, I was surfing twitter profiles (I do that sometimes, when people do follow Fridays or having conversations with people I don’t know. I like to see who it is and if I want to follow them.) I came across a profile with a bio that stopped me in my tracks. Here is what it said: “My reputation is impeccable, you do not fuck with me.”  ((yes, I know it’s a line from Jay-Z’s song ‘Success’, but I didn’t know that when I first saw it)) I rolled my eyes and thought- Classy.

But I couldn’t get it out of my head. And the other day I figured out why- THAT is the impression I try to give people. Before you roll your eyes and think “Classy”, stick with me for a second.

I’m going to assume you have never met me before. This is how it is going to go down. For the most part we will meet in a group, we will shake hands, make small talk for a second or two. I’ll answer in small short sentence to discourage follow-up questions and real conversation, cause I want to get to the next stage quickly. Observation.

I love to observe. What does your accent, dictation, and vocabulary tell me about your upbringing and education level? How quickly do you move to controversial topics like religion or politics? (If you do it during a first meeting, even if I am with someone you know, it’s a sign you’re a blowhard). What do you talk about? I will forget your name (don’t take it personally, my brain has some damn malfunction in that area) but I won’t forget where you’re from, how many children you have, that one of them takes ballet and that you wear a pair of shoes I covet. Next, how do you treat the people around you? Wait staff, friends, significant other.

Sometime, in the conversation, you’ll turn to me and say “you’re quiet.” No, no I’m not. I’m just gathering information. I’ll engage with you on any subject if you so choose, but, more often than not, I will wait until I know you better to let my true personality come out.

What is my true personality? I am caring, but will not allow self pity; I am giving, but don’t read minds, tell me what you need; I am respectful and polite, but direct; I am vivacious and loud; but hopefully share the spotlight with everyone around me; I love to talk, but enjoy quiet just as much; I don’t sugarcoat the truth; I will argue with you, and love you for not being afraid to argue with friends; I will cross the line, and then I will apologize- repeatedly; in anger, I am mean, foul-mouthed, and emotional, but I get over it; and should we not get along I can be vicious, but more often than not, I will simply walk away.

I decided a long time ago that life was too short to be scared of it.

My reputation is impeccable, you do not fuck with me.

It’s always the quiet one…..

Daily Show, baby

Last modified on 2010-06-25 13:58:49 GMT. 15 comments. Top.

Nic from My Bottle’s Up , Mary from Pajamas and Coffee , and I went to New York yesterday to see the Daily Show. We met up with Jason from Outnumbered who works in NYC. To say we had fun would be a woefully inadequate description. People, it was a BLAST. We are all going to post about it, but I am going to take just one part, the best part, mainly cause I’m in it.²

(Nic’s post is here, and Mary’s post is here.)

(To understand this story you have to know that the only person Mary wants have babies with MORE than Bob (her husband) or Matt Lauer is Jon Stewart. Perfectly reasonable. So she tried to arrange for an interview with Jon as part of her role as writer for Suite101. There was a moment there we thought it was going to happen, but he has decided not to do interviews until he starts press for his new book- titled Earth (available on Amazon September 21) )

We have waited in line for 2 hours, gotten to our seats, sat through the warm-up stand-up comedian guy, and Jon is on stage and taking questions. Of course, the FIRST question he take is from size 2, blond hair Scandinavian beauty. I might be a little resentful, but I’ll never tell. But while he is answering her question, he is scanning the crowd for the next question. OF COURSE, my hand is up, we briefly make eye contact, and I know he is going to call on me. I’m all SWEET! Then it dawns on me that I need something to actually ASK. I put something together in my head, and what follows is my conversation with Jon Stewart, a magical 20 seconds, I shall never ever forget.

Me (standing up): Hi, I’m Amy (I don’t know why I told him my name like we are in some support group or shit, but whatever).

Jon: Hi Amy (He says this with a look of “why did this girl just tell me her name? weeeirdoooo”)

Me: I’m here with four other bloggers and we are going to write about our experience at the Daily Show. What would you like us to write about?

Jon: How about how short I am? (he really is y’all)

Me: No, we already got that. Anything else?

Jon: You mean something like: (he lowers his voice) “ The lights dimmed, he appeared out of the shadows, with his bulging biceps….” Something like that?

Me: Sure (witty response there, Amy)

Jon: Do you find it exhausting to post every day?

(I’m not prepared for any questions! Who does he think he is?! I decide I am NOT going down alone, and a plan is hatched.)

Me: Well, not really, I mean, I only post a couple of times a week, but Mary, our most popular blogger among us³, posts EVERY DAY.

(Jon turns his attention to Mary, who won’t even stand up, but that’s OK, because my plan HAS WORKED!)

Jon: Oh yeah? Mary, what do you write about?

Mary: How hot you are (I cannot make this shit up).

Jon: Ohhhh (he turns around lifts up the tail of his coat to better show his ass to his adoring fan) So that’s very interesting (he says some other things that are lost in audience laughter but his ass is still clearly on display, pants though it is.)

At this point he moves on⁴, and Mary turns to us, with a huge smile on her face and says:

“He talked to me through his ASS!”⁵

Dad’s Day!

Last modified on 2010-06-20 23:31:11 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

Yep, it’s Dad’s day and if you read this blog, you know I mention my mom quit a bit and my dad only a little bit. This isn’t a slight, it’s more of a courtesy. My dad doesn’t read my blog (and I am so totally OK with that, really. Cause I can just hear him now…“do you really have to use the f word”- right after he has a five minute tirade against liberals that include swear words I don’t even know yet) so I don’t feel right writing about him. But in honor of Father’s Day, I would like to list the things I learned from my Dad:

1- Never stop working- This guy never stopped working. When his 18 year career at the railroad ended due to an injury, he worked as a truck driver, and when his back hurt from doing that (from the aforementioned injury), he went back to school to sharpen his machinists skills. He finally retired from a machinist shop in Louisville earlier this year, but to be honest, I never thought he would retire. I learned this lesson well.

2- Be quiet until you can’t anymore- My dad’s pretty easy going, but he has a temper, and even at 37, I don’t mess around with that.

3- If you start something, go down swinging- If you start it, finish it- you may not win, but make sure the other guy looks just as bad.

4- Kids don’t live here after the age of 18- Honestly. I think I was 12 or 13 when I first heard the words “When you’re 18, you’re gone.” He said it in a joking manner, but over the intervening years, I knew, at 18 I would be responsible for myself. And I have been. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t gone back home, I moved back in with him twice in my twenties, but I KNEW beyond any shadow of a doubt, that it would be temporary. He never said that, but it was understood. I have started the same cycle with my children, recently breaking out the “When you’re 18….”

5- If its over, walk away- My dad has been married 5 times (Count ‘em- F-I-V-E). Something to be said for when it’s over, it’s over.

6- Be nice to your mom- When I lived with my dad, we would make the 1/2 hour trek from our home to his mom’s home to see her. We did this 2-4 times a week. We would take her out to eat (she wasn’t a very good cook, and neither was he). He was always there for her (his dad died of prostrate cancer when my dad was 15) and took her death hard. Is it any wonder that I’m a fan of my own mother?

7- Being an asshole gets you your way- Look not everything I learned from him is fit for a Hallmark moment.

8- No need to talk about it, just be mad until you aren’t and get along til you can’t- Wait, that’s for the list of things that piss me off about my dad.

So for all that, I guess I can forgive him for the things I inherited from him that I DON’T like. For instance, gritting my teeth (it’s horrible, I have woken myself up from the noise and grinding), addiction to news (well, I get this from BOTH sides, so screw you both on that one), the ability to argue loudly (CAUSE SHOUTING GETS YOUR POINT ACROSS, DOESN’T IT? I SAID DOESN’T IT?), and there is no other Hollywood star beside Clint Eastwood.

What about you?

Can I scrub my brain memories now?

Last modified on 2010-06-14 00:47:28 GMT. 12 comments. Top.

This is a story about how puberty just comes up to you and goes BAM right in your face. So if that makes you feel icky, well…good- cause this whole MEMORY feels icky for me.

It all starts out innocently enough, my daughter was on the front steps with a friend and they are snickering over a book called “What is happening to my body?” Now, if you are not familiar with this classic, it is the de rigeur in puberty books. I was watching my son ride his bike, so I casually looked over to see what they were reading, read the cover, said ‘meh’ and went back to watching my son. I hear my daughter whisper to her friend, “See, I told you she wouldn’t care!”

She’s not saying this because she actually thinks I DON’T care, but because she knows (I hope) that I am all for frank and open discussion.

Being the true daughter o’mine that is (which means she now feels she has to one up her friend), she goes skipping off to our house to get the book I bought her. “It’s Perfectly Natural” brings open and honest to new level. And she wants to show her friend. Fine.

But then, after shower, she comes down to ask me some pretty innocuous puberty questions, and I think to myself, this is a GOOD time to get in one of those good parenting lines. (Cause I really need those extra parenting points y’all). So I go “Don’t let boys pressure you into sex or anything, even oral sex.”

And she’s all “What’s oral sex?”

WHAT?!?! I spent money on a perfectly good book that was supposed to explain this to you? Did you SKIP that chapter?!

I stutter. Sigh. Hem and haw, desperately try to buy time. I even try the “That’s not important right now…what I’m trying to tell you…”

Nope, she would not be diverted.

So I take a big deep breath, and as succintly as possible, say, “It’s when a woman takes a man’s penis in her mouth and sucks until he ejactulates.”

And then I pray, pray that this is the end of the conversation.

She thinks it over for a second and looks at me and says- “What’s ejaculates?”

I WANT MY GODDMAN MONEY BACK AMAZON!

Mea Culpa

Last modified on 2010-05-31 02:19:52 GMT. 15 comments. Top.

Man, sometimes you think you know a blog. You got all the plug-ins working, and you are rolling along, until BAM! shit falls apart. Welcome to my day.

I try to respond to every comment, in fact, I don’t know one comment that I haven’t responded to. At first I used to do this once or twice a week, and then I realized that was too long, and then I tried to do it within 48 hours of a comment. And I was getting good at it, too.

A couple of months ago, I switched to a comment plug-in called Disqus, and for the most part I cannot recommend it enough. Except I made a mistake. When I was replying to comments, I wasn’t doing it within the Disqus interface. So they didn’t show up, so NOW people think I’m too good to comment to them. Which makes a bitch. No wait, I think that happened some time ago. OK, it makes me a snob, or at least SEEM like a snob. Which I’m not. I promise.

Sooo to Alison, Elly, Jennifer, Brahm, Holly, GuiltySquid, Nic, Life Without Pink, Sena, Jen Breedlove, Mara, Elle, Sunday, Stefanie, Bumby, Jennifer (at the Blue Barn), Megan, the prez, Mary from Tuscan Home, and ESPECIALLY Marymac- I’m REALLY sorry. I wasn’t ignoring you, and from now own, I think I got this blogging thing down.

Not a Shoplifter

Last modified on 2010-05-29 22:11:40 GMT. 5 comments. Top.

To all my girls out there: watch what size purse you buy.

Here’s what happened to me. I bought a purse yesterday at Ross. A really big white one. It may classify as luggage in some states, I’ll check into that. And I love it. I can fit EVERYTHING in there, and a bottle of wine- cause I’m all about the important stuff.

Now today I’m off to PetSmart to get one of those no shed combs for the pets. Those things aren’t cheap. In fact, they start at about 30 bucks. In an aisle full of products promising to get the same results for about 20 bucks less, it’s hard to reach for one of those bad boys. But I have been through many a pet comb, and I know that this one is the only one that will get ALL that undercoat off. I pick one up (yep, you guessed it, the cheap of the expensive brand- so, again, around 30 bucks) and head towards the front. But as I walk up to the front, one of the end caps  has a display of “As Seen On TV” stuff. And you know it’s good because THEY PUT IT ON FUCKING TV y’all. And there was this two pack of pet hairbrushes for about 10 bucks cheaper than what I was getting ready to spend. I must have spent 5-10 minutes there debating which one to get. I decide to go with the expensive one, again, it comes highly recommended and I know it works. I head to the checkout counter.

While I am in my contemplative state, out of the corner of my eye I notice a bug burly manager take up position by the front door. And he’s looking at me. I think, Hey- I’m still single, lemme give him a smile. But he’s not smiling. I can only assume he’s gay. Anyhoo, I go to the furthest checkout, no one is there, and put my stuff on the belt. This guy comes over to the the belt to make sure I have put all TWO of my items on the belt. Like I’m some damn shoplifter. So I do what I know best, act oblivious. But inside, I am all WHAT THE HELL, DUDE?

I paid for my things and left. I know why he thought I was shoplifting, it was my big purse. I am OFFENDED. Did he not see that my purse was stylish, in a completely non-threatening way.  Now I would totally call up the management and complain, but I lost my phone. In my purse.

Shut up.

Pac-Man Forever

Last modified on 2010-05-25 00:28:17 GMT. 2 comments. Top.

Recently, Google placed a playable Pac-Man on its homepage to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Pac-Man. Everyone was all atwitter about it. Me, I was all ‘meh’. Do you know how many hours of Pac-Man I have played and watched being played. So damn many.

When I was about 11 or 12 I moved to north central Illinois to live with my mom and new step-dad. In a VERY small town called Metamora. (Now, I know that I say I am from Louisville, but I actually lived most of the time in a small town on the Indiana side of Kentucky called Georgetown. So when I say that this town in Illinois made Georgetown look like a metropolis, you can be assured that I have not resorted to hyperbole.) Metamora’s one claim to fame is that Lincoln once practiced law there. They even had a historic courthouse that was preserved from that era and everything. That’s it y’all. And don’t let the fact that it is in the top half of Illinois fool you, in the summer it was hot. Corn, pavement, and that damn historic court house was all that I had to look forward in the summer. So I spent a lot of time watching MTV and at the ice cream parlor. Watching my mom play Ms. Pac Man.

You don’t how much I wish I was kidding.

She played for hours upon hours, she was obsessed. I got an ice cream out of it, but I didn’t even bother asking to play Ms. Pac Man. And it was one of those cool table ones too! I think there was another video game there, but I only remember the Mrs. Pac Man. When I brought this up recently, my mother mentioned that she held the high score on that machine for a while. The geek in me was so damn proud.

So go ahead and play your Google Pac-Man, I think I’ve had enough.

Once again…totally unprepared

Last modified on 2010-05-19 16:19:16 GMT. 3 comments. Top.

I spend my entire life unprepared. Unprepared for the next day, unprepared to write my next post, unprepared to give a damn. You name it, I am winging it.  Hey, it keeps everyone on their toes. This is a totally normal conversation for me:

“What?! We have a meeting today? WHY DIDN”T YOU TELL ME?”

“You did? When?”

“That long ago…huh.”

“Oh look, here it is on my calendar.”

“Of course I’m prepared, I am INSULTED and HURT that you would think otherwise.”

And then my co-worker decides that she needs a drink, and I assure that her that, yes, there is a bar open at 10:30 a.m.

But today was even worse than usual. I have this BIG project going on, something that started off small and then just blew up.  And a big name blogger was supposed to come by my blog to have a look at the project info. UNPREPARED!!!

I hadn’t blogged in days, at least not here. I have actually pushed out seven posts since this weekend, but all for other projects. I was having serious writer’s block for my baby. I GOT NOTHIN’ y’all.

So in its place I put this disclaimer: THIS IS TOTALLY A MCGYVER POST PULLED OUT OF MY ASS TO PROVE THAT I DO BLOG…..sometimes.

I swear this is true!

Last modified on 2010-05-10 01:04:49 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

Do you know how I gauge how odd a person’s life is? By how many times they have to avow it truthiness during its telling. On this scale, my life is off the odd Richter scale.

And here is an example. I have a deathly fear of spiders. Why? And no, it’s not just because I’m A GIRL! When I was 5 or 6 I was wearing this blue dress (I don’t remember why, my mom wasn’t the put-my-girls-in-dresses type). A spider crawled up my leg and bit me. And don’t give me that “It’s more scared of you then you are of it” crap. Don’t tell me that spider doesn’t look around at all us bipedals, and think- I have EIGHT LEGS, I TOTALLY RULE! Now, let me crawl a little towards you and see how fast those two legs move. You know how people emmigrate ‘casue they want jobs and freedom and trivial stuff like that? Screw that- if I was born in the middle east I would leave just because of the camel sweats. (SEE?! I’m too chicken to even Google it for you so I can show how nasty these little arachnids are). Anyhoo, I have a point and here it is.

Are you ready?

My dad decided that good pet to have while I was growing up was a tarantula. SHIT. YOU. NOT. It’s name was Clyde (Yes, my dad’s hero was Clint Eastwood, but more about that later). And no, I don’t remember WHY he decided to get this nasty looking dude. But I DO know that he sat on top of our console TV for, like, 8 years. Cartoons just don’t have the same feel when a hairy spider is sitting on top of you TV.

I do owe a little bit of a debt to Clyde, however. In the eighth grade I brought him for science class. Perhaps, my only moment of coolness in my tortured teen years. Although, sitting with his octagonal cage on my lap on the bus made me VERY nervous. BUT! BUT! No teasing that day! Back off, or I will loose this SPIDER on you!

I swear this is all true. See how odd my life is?

Who Googles That?

Last modified on 2010-05-03 14:54:44 GMT. 6 comments. Top.

I mean seriously, who Googles that shit. Here’s a tip: the key to your life and happiness is not found on Google. I promise. Wonder what I’m talking about? Well, let me end the suspense.

Google Analytics is the program I use to keep track of the the hits for this blog. It reminds what how many people are not reading each day. I think that every time I open it up, there will be a message for me that says: ‘Are you kidding me? Nobody reads your shit, go away.’ However, until it actually does say that, I like to check it to see what keywords drive traffic to this site.

(Keywords are the words that you put in your search engine’s box.) Here are the keywords that stopped me in my tracks today: “A little honesty from a woman.” Some jackass googled that- and got my site. Not only does it suck to be him ’cause (apparently) his lady is a lying ho’, but he then gets to read my inane ramblings as a reward for his searching.

But the bigger question is- who Googles that? What man looks for the truth from the internet? The same internet that is SURE cats speak their own language, the same internet that tells me twice a day I have won money, the same internet that has a FAN PAGE FOR DAVID HASSELHOFF. Those three things alone should be a sign that perhaps the interwebs isn’t where you should be looking for you truth.

Totally my opinion.

Now the person who Googled “spoon because it hurts more” and got to my site- you are my kind of dude, and did I mention I’m single?

My soul for a bowl

Last modified on 2010-04-29 01:40:00 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

I had to stop by Target tonight. Target is religion. A cult, if you will, and I happily belong. I could spend all day picking out everything from jewelry to batteries to home accessories. (And on a side note, when you see a commercial on TV don’t you INSTANTLY know when it’s a Target one? They all have that same look and feel- just sayin’). But tonight, I had to stop by for some toothpaste and goodies for the kids (and not those wussy whole-food-esque goodies….nope these are packed to the gills with fake sugar and other fake ingredients, you may start feeling better about what you feed your kids, now). And as I always do, I take a stroll by the home decoration aisle. I know I don’t need any stuff, hell, YOU probably know I don’t need any stuff, but I have been in my town home for a little over a month now, and I have been busy hanging things. But the things I have been hanging  have been things that I acquired during my marriage. And you know how it is when you’re married- you want one thing, he wants another, and very often you meet in the middle. You do this so often that you stop buying things that you looovvvvveeee, because you know that the other person will HATE it. So now I wanted something that was all mine, was definitely my taste, something that if I had bought it during my marriage I would have had an argument over how much HE hated it and the money spent on it. People, I was looking for my SOUL IN TARGET. God, you don’t know how much I wish I was lying. There I was going up and down the aisles, looking for one item that would represent ME. I knew where I was going to put it, on my new (tiny) IKEA kitchen table.  There it was down an aisle, silver and ALL MINE.

When my kids ask how I made it through my divorce, I will tell them I found my soul in Target, and after that, everything was OK. It’s not spectacular (hell, it’s kind of boring), but I know HE would have hated it. I give you the ‘Soul Bowl’:

Where you’re glad your name ISN’T Gray Powell

Last modified on 2010-04-20 20:25:39 GMT. 4 comments. Top.

Don’t know who is Gray Powell is? Where have you been?! Gray Powell is the talented engineer who landed his dream job at Apple. Even better he was given a prototype next generation iPhone to test ‘in the wild’ as techies call it. He stopped at a bar for his 27th birthday and left that super secret phone on the bar stool. It took a couple of days for the owners at the bar to figure out that the guy wasn’t coming back for it, and a couple of more days for them to figure out that it wasn’t a regular iPhone (despite it’s clever, custom made case designed to make it look like a regular iPhone 3G). They did what any regular red-blooded person would do. They called a techie blogger and offered to sell it.

Which is how Gizmondo got it. And wrote about it.

All of this makes me gleefully happy. Not for Gray, of course, who apparently sounds ‘broken’ when reached by phone. No, Gray is about two twitter days from becoming a techie joke. Something PR people will say when they don’t want to tell you too much about their upcoming product- “Don’t want to pull a Gray Powell” they’ll say. Dear Gray, there is no other way to say this, it sucks to be you, dude. Sorry.

No, I am happy because no company represents what is wrong with ”big company” tech more than Apple*. From their CEO, who is a jerk, and can buy a black market kidney in Tennessee, while other sicker people wait on the list. To their software platform, which is increasingly becoming more and more developer unfriendly. (UNLIKE EVERY OTHER ITEM ELSE ENTERING THE MARKET). To their over-zealous, devoted fan base, which will tear you apart in a second if you dare hate on Apple. (NOTICE TO FANBOYS: You DO REALIZE that Steve Jobs makes you pay TOP DOLLAR to be beta testers for his products, RIGHT? The rest of us wait while you tear through the 1G stuff, then we come in and by the next gen stuff which is BETTER and CHEAPER. So, really, I should THANK YOU for being guillable, right?).

Apple won’t change. They will continue to treat their employees, the press, AND their customers as beneath their contempt. And me? Yep, I got an iPod, but I have an Android phone, something even I CAN HACK (and it was made to be that way, it’s called an open platform. Hear that Apple? You should learn that word. Embrace it, it’s not scary.), and run my Windows computer. Not because non-Apple items are better but because, partly, Apple makes it ridiculously expensive to be a hipster.

So this little scenario has taken them down a peg or two, I for one am giggling in delight.

Uh oh…here comes Karma, apparently it wants to have a word with me. I wonder what about?

*yes, apple products are game-changers, but so are other products

Where the writer stands in line FOREVER

Last modified on 2010-04-19 00:27:32 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

I guess everyone has a problem but you. That is what I’m thinking as I stand in lime, here at Comcast. I’m here to turn in my dvr box, cause when you cancel service there isn’t anyway they’re coming to pick it up for you. A final ‘screw you’ from comcast. Aren’t they sweet? Anyway the lady in front of me reminds me so much of everything I hate about getting older, my ex, and life when not well-medicated. She has complained about the loud guy (even though she is just as loud), how looonnnggg the line is (here’s your award Captain Obvious), if someone was took too long at the window (BUT YOU BETTER BELIEVE SHE WANTED THE BEST SERVICE EVER), or whatever else.

I really have better things to do, but if I didn’t turn it in, Comcast was going to charge me around $500.00 for the box. So there I sat in in line right behind this woman, thinking IS THIS WHAT I SOUND LIKE?

Don’t answer that.

Breakin’ All the Rules

Last modified on 2010-04-12 00:27:58 GMT. 3 comments. Top.

So there are these rules in blogging. And bloggers love to write about them and why they are ‘good’ rules to follow. Of course, they aren’t hard and fast rules, the bloggy police don’t come out and hunt you down if break the rules, but nonetheless, they are out there. And I hate EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Not because I am trying to b e obnoxious, but because who needs that kind of pressure?! Here are some of those that really annoy me:

Try to post everyday- OK, I can do that, as long as, I don’t know, have to FEED MY CHILDREN or GO TO WORK. Who has the time for that? I know some people who post every day or mostly every day, but the turth is, I don’t read them all. Even my most favorite bloggers. It’s not that I don’t WANT to, I do (ok, I really don’t) but I don’t have enough patience to read all the posts they put out every damn day. I really admire their dedication and, for some, the ability to being the funny to every post- I just realize that I don’t have that kind of talent. I know that I have two regular categories that post to called “Daily Picture” and “Daily Rant” but if you followed this blog for more than a day than you know that it is rarely, if ever, Daily. And I don’t feel bad about that. (Mainly because renaming to it Whenever-the-hell-I-get-around-to-it-Photo is a pain in the ass).

Next rule, stick to one subject. Yeah….not gonna happen. I like to say that I know just enough to be dangerous. Plus like I say in my About page, I believe you should be blessed with my writings on whatever comes to my mind. Sticking to one subject  is constraining and boring for me. I know some AWESOME SharePoint bloggers, I’ll be happy to direct you to them. I know some badass Mommy Bloggers, just don’t call me a Mommy Blogger. I have links for some GREAT Geek blogs and stores, but I can’t post all my geeky stuff all the time. You get the picture. My tagline proclaims me to be “princess of randomness” and I aim to live up to that title.

Last rule, I like to break- Don’t discuss politics or religion. Why not? Just like  TV, if you don’t like my views you can bounce outta here anytime. But I’d rather discuss, argue even, with you. Why not? Why are we afraid to defend or stick up for our ‘values’ or ‘beliefs’? The best discussions are not with people who think like you, the best discussions are with people who DISAGREE with you.

I’ve seen two blogs alone this week fold. ‘Too time consuming’ is that main reason they cite (both were mothers of children smaller than mine, and I wish them both well). I would like this blog to continue for long time so I have only two rules that I stick to: Post whatever I want, whenever I feel like it.

Keep your religion off my money

Last modified on 2010-04-12 00:10:55 GMT. 5 comments. Top.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’m a liberal. Some people ask why, and I think this is as a good time as any to tell you why-

I’m a liberal because I don’t believe I have the right to tell anyone how to live their life.

I’m a liberal because I’m not smart enough to figure out your spirituality for you, or tell you how to go about practicing said spirituality.

I’m a liberal because I don’t believe that religion (ANY religion) should be involved in politics. Looking at you “The Family“.

I’m a liberal because I believe it is long past time for rich, old, white men to stop acting like they know what’s best for everyone else.

I’m a liberal because I believe in logic and rationality, not faith in the ‘unseen’ or a poorly translated book that supposedly has ‘all the answers’.

That being said, I try to be tolerant of those who live their lives according the patriarchal, medieval rules set down by most religions. Except when I’m not. The other day I was passing a gym and out there in front of the gym was this big sign that proclaimed: CHRISTIAN OWNED. Well, shit. Does this mean I can’t bring devil music in there? I mean that sign is a deal-breaker for me. Honestly. Not because I HATE Christians (though I do think it is one of two religions that foster hate, xenophobia, homophobia, suppressed sexual rules, and hate fueled speech and acts). I know a lot of people who assure me they are ‘saved’ and do you know why I like them? They don’t tell me about it, or preach about it, or even really talk about it with me. I don’t even mind giving my money to Christian (or Muslim or Hindu) owned businesses, but when you hang out a sign out there, it’s like saying- ‘We don’t want you agnostic crap here, lady so just move it along.’ So, you won’t be getting my money. ‘K?

Along the same lines is putting a stamp of politics on your business. I ran across this story today about a doctor who didn’t want Obama supporters. Wow, dude, way to have a thoughtful debate. Guess we all got our deal-breakers, huh?

(Note to tea party people: THE CENSUS IS AN EVIL TRICK, DO NOT FILL OUT YOUR FORM OR THE GOVERNMENT WILL TAKE YOUR PROPERTY)

I’m quite a badass

Last modified on 2010-03-31 00:58:48 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

It’s not just me saying this, either (although I do think I’m pretty cool). Nope, I have a piece a paper to back up this claim. As part of the renting process, a real estate company did a background check on me and according to this piece of paper, someone with my name has been on crime spree across four states. Here are some highlights:

An assault charge in New Jersey. I can only guess that this happened because I saw one too many pictures of Snooki (aka Sluuti) from Jersey Shore, snapped and drove up there slap the oomp-loompa tan off her.

12 evictions in North Carolina. Now, I did live in North Carolina, but nowhere near this particular town, and some dates I wasn’t even there. There are two things wrong with this. Why would anyone be STUPID enough to rent to the same person  8 TIMES and keep evicting her?! It’s like you hung up a sign saying “Come live here, but don’t bother paying us rent, after we evict you- we’ll let you move back in. Mainly because we’re high all the time.” The second thing is, not even my alter ego would spend that long IN NORTH CAROLINA!

There are quite a few charges for UTTERING A FORGED INSTRUMENT. Look if you don’t like my blog just click your way outta here, you don’t have to press charges, man. It’s cool, it’s cool.

Also on the list are some IMPROPER DRIVING and RECKLESS DRIVING. Not my fault the make-up mirror blocks the view of small animals and curbs, seriously.

And last, my favorite, FALSE PERSONEL INFO WITH INTENT TO BE ANOTHER. Damn right, you spend time with my kids, you would run and want to be someone else too.

Told ya, I’m a badass. No, you don’t need to see the report. Just because the middle initial is wrong or it happened it cities or states I didn’t live at time means nothing. Besides, I already got the tattoo.

Try a little honesty

Last modified on 2010-03-20 01:45:49 GMT. 2 comments. Top.

I’m one of those people who prides herself on being able to take the truth right square in between the eyes. Yes, Jack, I CAN handle the truth. So it an be so damn infuriating to me when I catch someone in a lie. I often get a a little niggling sense when someone is lying to me, and when I do I will go to any lengths to catch them in that lie. Twice, this week I found out someone was lying to me- made for a VERY bad week.

The first was actually a small matter: I am trying to rent a new home in my area and right off the bat found a home that I liked and wanted to look at. The agent was nice enough to show me the place one afternoon. I decided on the spot that I wanted it and started the process. When I checked in a couple of days later, I was  informed me that there had been an offer on the house and, of course, the owners would rather sell it than rent it. When a couple of days later I noticed that the property was still on the MLS, I became suspicious. Now, by that time I was working with a new agent and the new agent told me that the property had not sold but that the owners had accepted another renter. The owner, OF COURSE, can rent to whomever they like, but it is obvious that the first agent did NOT process my application and did NOT present me as a possible tenant to the owner. If I had been turned down, that is fine, but to be lied to is unacceptable.

So what did I do? Tweet of course. And now, I am writing a blog post about. At the moment I am refraining from naming the company or the agent since I was contacted by VP about my tweet. I hope he is able to sort this out for me, cause if not- I AM NAMING NAMES PEOPLE!

The second was a little more complicated. When, living with someone for 12 years, you know what mood they are in when they get ‘some.’ My husband has been in that kind of move since he moved out. Plus, the first thing he did when he moved out was move his cell phone to his own account. Pretty odd for someone who said that this separation was about MONEY! Dude, your bill was 10 bucks now it’s 30 bucks? It’s about money my ass. Didn’t take long for him to mess up and leave his phone with in my reach. And what did I find? Sexting, of course. (And trust me, not good sexting either- there was one about ‘I got a goose egg” hee hee, and another one that was a little more R rated, but trust  me, NOT INSPIRED). I was really angry. I gave him lots of opportunity to tell me that he was seeing someone but he didn’t.

Here is where I always take a time out for a little perspective: Even if he was seeing this woman before we split up, she is not the reason we are not together. We made our own marriage hell on our own, we needed no outside help. Thank you very much.

Now, back to the story. At first I was really angry. And I still am, not because he is seeing someone but because he wasn’t HONEST with me. Yes, it hurts that he has found someone so soon after me, I have an ego too. But then, I remembered that this man is the father of my two children, and has done more for me then a couple of lame texts can erase. So in the end, I’m all ‘good for him’. As long as he gives the kids time to adjust I am OK with that (which means he doesn’t get to introduce them to the kids UNTIL the divorce is final).

So there you have it. Two instances of dishonesty, two similar reactions. So go ahead, lie to me- I dare ya.

Footnote: don’t leave me any nasty comments on how I invaded his privacy, cause as my dad says “That dog don’t hunt here, son.”

Are you writing or are you selling?

Last modified on 2010-03-15 17:20:00 GMT. 9 comments. Top.

Mommy bloggers everywhere are angry (GRR!). And no, this time, it’s not about ME. Since this is a post that I will be posting both on my company blog and my personal blog, I will lay out some details. If you already heard it then skip to the next paragraph. Mommy blogging is the ‘in’ thing to do at the moment, and lots of women have taken to the internet to post on their take on parenting, mommy issues, moral dilemmas, days without showers, and so on. I also blog, but I vehemently eschew the mommy blogger moniker for various reasons. A couple of weeks ago a blogging community PR company held an event called ‘Bloggy Bootcamp’  (YES, someone did make up that AWFUL name) in Baltimore. I signed up to go, and though (in the end) it wasn’t my cup of tea, I enjoyed meeting many women who I have interacted with online, either through blog comment sections or on twitter.

At the conference there were some things said that just struck me as all wrong. One- being a mom is hip and trendy right now. Yeah, cause that’s why I have kids- to be trendy. Two- Know your worth. If you are a Stay at home mom, your worth to your family is truly immeasurable, but to companies, mommy bloggers are a dime a dozen. And so on. Again, not my cup of tea, but hey, I get what they are trying to say.

The other portion of this story is that there was a freelance writer doing a piece on mommy blogging for the New York Times. The conference organizer and speakers were understandably excited, press is a good thing, especially at an event costing anywhere between 80-100 bucks per person.The writer spent the day at the conference interviewing bloggers and taking pictures. Then the article came out. The tone of the piece was snarky and condescending, and while a good portion of the ire online is aimed at the writer, women online are in a Battle Royale over the meaning of this article.

I tend to side with the article writer (DESPITE HER AWFUL SHOES) for one reason and one reason only, the amount of giveaways that companies sponsor on the blogs. When you take money for a company to blog about their product, don’t come and complain when you have lost credibility with your readers or your fellow bloggers. One commenter said it was fashionable to beat up on mommy bloggers; maybe it is, and maybe some of it is deserved.

I write four blogs, but the one that I represent when I go to gatherings like these, is my personal blog. And while the talk on the SEO optimization was great, advice on how to get money and promotions out of company made me feel like I was in a gathering of Tupperware reps. I don’t engage with these companies for several reasons 1) As a government contractor, you never know what is a conflict of interest, so it’s best just steer clear altogether, 2) I won’t have my opinion held hostage by a contractual obligation. Example, say I take product to give away but later find that the company I took money from is polluting a river in a small town in Indiana. I want to be able to write really terrible things about that company without having to worry about what it will do to a ‘business’ relationship, and 3) I want to be taken serious as a blogger, having a blog full of giveaways doesn’t allow this (serious BITCH, that is).

So it’s at this point that I would like to put in my requisite disclaimer. I have met some wonderful writers, who just happen to be moms, through these events. I have even met some great mommy bloggers who run event services on the side. Make no mistake that these women are rock stars, and I enjoy being in their group. This is not about them, per se. It’s about all bloggers, and at what point do you stop being a sincere writer and start being a unpaid corporate shill?

One last caveat, I know a couple of bloggers that run review sites. They take products from companies and then post reviews about those products. What makes this different, that is the intent of the blog, to write reviews about products (similar to one of my favorite blogs- Engadget), so again not really in this category.

I am not trying to say that mommy blogging is not credible or that you shouldn’t have sponsors (SHOULD FERRARI WANT TO SPONSOR ME, I AM AVAILABLE). One of my favorite bloggers has a sponsor and does hilarious posts about their products (looking at you marymac). All I am saying, is that you should call a spade a spade, and whether you are trying to sell me Tupperware or Pampered Chef or whether you are blogging about a product for Kraft foods, you are a salesman- not a blogger.

Where I Get in Trouble (Again)

Last modified on 2010-03-09 12:56:16 GMT. 1 comment. Top.

I went to my first blog conference on Saturday. It was sponsored by an organization called SITS, which stands for the “Secret is in the Sauce.” It is blog community that encourages other bloggers to turn out and support other bloggers by leaving comments, providing links, and all around support for blog writers. The ladies who run it are enthusiastic and will often put on conferences to teach tips and tricks to bloggers, provide networking opportunities, and an all around good time. I chose this smallish conference as my first event as a blogger. It was in Baltimore and many of the bloggers going were ladies I was already interacting with on twitter or on our blogs.

The first sign of trouble came Friday night. Some of the ladies (about 20-25) had gotten together to have dinner, and I went off to join them. Let me say right off the bat, that every person I met was gracious and nice and truly welcoming. But I knew as we went around the table, that I may be the odd duck (ahhh, a feeling I know well). Every lady there stood up to tell the name of their blog and who they were, and as they went around each woman also said how many children they had. Except me. My kids aren’t the reason I blog, and I didn’t bring them up when I introduced myself. The conversation around the table was also centered on children, and I was bored to tears. I figured Saturday would be better, but not so much.

Nonetheless, it was a good time and I got to meet a few great bloggers (who just happen to be mommies). I spent the day as I do most days, on twitter- in this case live twittering the conference and it wasn’t long before we had a ‘hater’ on our feed. What happened next is best captured by the so-called hater himself: http://bit.ly/9Hhyco

I enjoyed tweeting with him, and will take up any chance to poke fun- EVEN IF I AM PART OF THE GROUP. We may have differnt points of view of what belongs on line and what doesn’t, and we also disagree on whether ’fat’ is an appropriate tweet at any time (c’mon that just mean). But you should NEVER EVER take yourself so seriously that you cannot make fun of who you are or what you are doing. This to  me is the biggest pitfall of being a mommyblogger. You are naturally sensative and protective of what you are writing about, so any nose-tweaking will set you off.

I can feel the disapproving looks from here. I shall do my best to get over it.

So lesson learned, some ladies can’t take a joke. And appartently my penchant for causing trouble has not waned in my later 30′s. Heh.

Enter Stage Right

Last modified on 2010-03-06 13:27:35 GMT. 5 comments. Top.

If you follow me on twitter or facebook then you know that my husband and I are divorcing. And if you don’t follow me, then I just told you. It’s about money. Or least we are telling ourselves about money, when really each day I look at him I want to call the police and shout- THERE IS A STRANGER HERE, AND HE IS WEIRD, TAKE HIM AWAY! After nearly 13 years together, we are such different people, I’m not sure if his real name is still John. Not that I use his name. I have so many little pet names for him, that I make sure to change it up. My current favorite is ASSHAT, which is a variation of ASSHOLE. Of course, there are the standards that never go out of style- like JERK and BASTARD. Sometimes we go international with WANKER, but that is only on REALLY special occasions. He has a special list for me to, but he likes to keep it simple, with the tried and true- BITCH.

Actually, we are not really fighting. Everything is so damn civil. When I tell the story of him asking for divorce, I will place us at the dinner table with him saying somthing like “The soup is great, and I want a divorce” and I will reply (in my retelling) with “It’s a new recipe, and I thought you would never ask!” Doesn’t that sound much better than the way it really happened? Text message. I KID. YOU. NOT. He divorced me over text message! And the best part? I was totally cool with it. Like I said, we have been ready for a while.

We haven’t told the kids yet. At the moment we are just telling them that daddy will be moving to Virginia with the Army on his own and we are going to stay in Maryland so that they don’t have to switch schools. I’m not sure if they’re really buying it or just pretending to buy it to help me get through the sheer logistics of dissolving a 12 year union.

So at the moment, we are all actors. Saying our lines at the right time with the right inflection. Today was my daughter’s birthday and we went to a restaurant of her choosing. The weirdness of it struck me when my (soon to be ex) sat down. Soon our meals will be only for 3. I think I’m ready, I hope everyone else is, because I’m not much of a performer.

Cue ASSHAT.

A Week of Fail

Last modified on 2010-02-25 14:03:06 GMT. 5 comments. Top.

Don’t you just love fail? You know true fail never comes in drops and bits, oh no no no, it comes in big ol’ bucketfuls and dowses you. Twice. It’s like some asshat that puts a bucket above on top of the door so when you walk under it, you stand there with the fail all over you. Everyone else delights in it, cause let’s face it, it’s funny when it’s not you. Have a painted the picture for you now? Good, because that has been my week.

It started off fairly innocuous in of one my many meetings I had scheduled this week. I was trying to explain why something needed to be changed, but I lacked specificity- and it took about two seconds for my task lead to do that smack down. She was all get back to me when you get more details. Whatever. I know she was right, but looking back, I just should have known that it was an indication to go back home, get under the covers and try again next week. But I was never one to listen to common sense. And the fail just kept coming, here are the highlights-

For those that don’t know I am a SharePoint Developer. SharePoint is great platform to work with if you use the full suite of tools that come with it- like Visual Basic, SharePoint Designer, and some of the advanced web parts (don’t worry if you don’t know what any of those are, just trust me when I say that to get the most out of SharePoint you need all those things). At the moment I am trying to develop an advanced solution for our clients- WITHOUT THOSE TOOLS. You see, the military in their zeal for security turns off the ability for custom code, and in doing so, turn off the ability to do half of the things they want done. Genius. So I will end this week telling my clients I can’t do what they are asking. And being the pentagon bureaucrats they are, they won’t understand it’s their fault- it will be mine. Fantastic.

Next, I had a huge fight with my daughter on Wednesday morning. Not only did I tell her to SHUT UP! I told her to STFU. Right before I dropped her off for school. I know she had a terrible day because of that, and even though she was in trouble, she did not deserve the F bomb at 7:45 in the morning.

My son has developed a nasty habit of lying and deceit. You see, he hates homework. So at first he tried the I don’t have any homework line when he came home from school, even when all the the work was right there in his bag. Since that didn’t work, he moved on to deliberately ‘forgetting’ or bringing home the wrong books to get out of doing homework. Last night, I had had enough, I drove him back to school got his correct books, grounded him, and made him write lines. Nothing major, but my son is my favorite person in the world at the moment, and I take his deceit personally.

On a different note, I also applied for a volunteer-ship to the BlogHer 2010 conference (it’s where you volunteer and they pay your conference fee) and OF COURSE I got turned down. The woman who decides that is from Texas, it explains so much. So now I have to pay full price, which isn’t that much but it’s just the principle of the thing.

My daughter’s flute teacher called and said that she didn’t want to teach my daughter anymore (she said she doesn’t practice enough, can’t get her to play during lessons, etc.). I was livid. Look I pay you to be there for a half an hour, just do what you can. My daughter’s self-esteem is low enough. My heart breaks for my daughter.

And, of course, my husband and I continue on our path to implosion. Out of respect for him I won’t detail our issues, and we may move past them, we have before, but when you reach critical mass nothing is ever the same.

My shoulders are locked up, and jaw hurts from gritting my teeth, and perhaps my only release is the ability to kvetch about it here.

It’s times like these that I just want to put my head on my desk and cry. But I can’t do that, because too often I am on two different phones, on two different conference calls, while answering emails, and working on stuff for my client.

And to top it all off, my best friend lives in Montana, and won’t rearrange her life and move out here for me. SO DAMN SELFISH. I need her here, not in Montana, dammit.

A week of fail. There a bottle of wine out there with my name on it. Don’t worry, lovey, come Friday I’m all yours.

I’m sorry have we met?

Last modified on 2010-02-20 02:43:40 GMT. 6 comments. Top.

No, I don’t think we have. You may know who I am, you follow me on twitter, and sometimes you even leave comments on my blog. Thank you for that. Oh, you blog too? I think I remember looking at your blog. Seemed like a good job, not my kind of thing, but I’m here to encourage all the people I can. What was wrong with it? Nothing. It’s like every other mommy blog I’ve read. Yes, your kids are cute and yes, kids are funny- but nothing earthshaking. Now, some of my regular readers are kick-ass mommy bloggers. I highly recommend you read their blog to see how it’s done. What’s that you said? Your children are angels, and you home-school, and make crafts for the needy in your spare time? Yeah? Well, in my spare time I check out which mental hospital / old folks home will take a thirty something mother of three…oops make that two kids and a husband who seems very young sometimes.

You what now? You unfollowed me on twitter? Well, it happens. No, I don’t want to know why. OK…tell me anyway. Offensive? Me? Hell, yeah, I’m offensive. How long did it take you to figure that out? I see that you thought I was a peer, another mommy blogger. To tell you the truth, I HATE that term. Yep, I have kids and, yes, I will exploit them mercilessly for material for this blog, but I don’t want to be mommy blogger. Why? Well, kids grow up and the material will get less interesting. Also, I am a little less inclined to pick on my children then I am say…you. One more reason, I have opinions on just about everything, so why not write about everything.

Apparently, you have a bone to pick with me, so let’s hear it. No, wait…let me guess, you didn’t like my Jesus comment. Technically, Elton John said it first. People were ganging up on him, and I thought that the comment deserved some support. Maybe Jesus WAS gay, who knows? No one- that’s who. I am TOTALLY sure that offends every conservative, religious bone in your body, and that brings me joy. No, no I am not trying to insult you, that is just a pleasant by-product. I think all religions are around to be made fun of, and yours DOES NOT GET A FREE PASS. Did you read that recent study that said that the more religious a person was, the more brain damage they had. Hey, I can’t make this stuff up.

So, maybe Jesus was gay, and maybe Elton John is douche, but more importantly, I think that almost everything is open to ridicule and that is where my true skill is. So now you know, so do the unfollow or the unfriend or whatever, and let me get on with what I was doing. For the rest of you, I don’t know you either, but you seem pretty cool…let’s go get a margarita.

Porn for Women

Last modified on 2010-02-16 01:08:39 GMT. 4 comments. Top.

Have you seen those books in the bookstore called Porn for Women? Inside this book are some images that women truly find sexy…(hunky) men in aprons vacuuming, cleaning windows, scrubbing toilets, agreeing to see a chick flick- all the things I can’t get my husband to do in real life. Except one. Vacuum. Let  me tell you a story about the first time we talked about housecleaning. It was the first months of our marriage and I came home from work (I was still in the Army then) and my (new) husband proudly announced:

 I swept the floors for you!

Me: Do what now?

Him: I swept the floors for you.

Me: You swept the floors for whom?

Him (starting to catch on that this conversation was going horribly wrong): uh….you?

Me: No. You swept the floors because YOU LIVE IN THIS HOUSE and I AM NOT YOUR DAMN MAID.

I don’t think he meant anything by the comment, and to his credit he has always done 50% (or more) of the chores around here. The only time I vacuum is when he is deployed or TDY, and, even then, not as often as he would do it were he home. Nonetheless when he is home, the agreement has always been, if I don’t like the way he does it, then I am welcome to do it myself. An offer I usually decline ever so graciously. But there are some chores, that no matter how easy a machine makes it, I will not do. I will spend my last dollar paying someone ELSE to do it for me. My hubby, bless his cheap ass soul, won’t pay this money, and seeing that I won’t do it, does it himself. A great example of this is rug cleaning. Am I not a supporter of the great American worker if I pay someone else to do it? And if those fine America workers don’t do it, don’t the terrorists win? So you see, by paying someone else to do it, I am really supporting the global war on terror. Hubby disagrees with this fine American notion and so every so often I get my own version of Porn for Women:

 

Yes, that is my husband in his Mom Jeans, on the floor with the rug cleaner. Why is he on his hands and knees? Because he has to guide the cleaner just right so it will get all the dirt up. Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you call it, it’s the sexiest picture I ever saw.

The Army Lied (GASP!)

Last modified on 2010-02-10 01:54:45 GMT. 2 comments. Top.

Army officers get on my last stinking nerve. It’s not that they aren’t effective in battle or good leaders, it’s just that every so often you come across that one asshole who just drives you up a wall. We have encountered one here Aberdeen. It’s not the first time, and this latest one is as annoying as all the others.

It starts like it always does, with something small. I know I have mentioned the impending move at least 1 or 2 (maybe 100) times. But first I have to explain a little bit of Army policy. Moving’s expensive. The Army shells out a lot of money to move soldiers- I would say it runs over $10,000 per move, if not more (that includes man hours, contractors, movers, reimbursements, claims, etc., etc.). So understandably the Army doesn’t want to do this every 6 months. It doesn’t WANT to, but it will- for special cases, like schools that last a long time, family emergencies, that sort of thing. But barring that, when you move somewhere within the US you are locked in there for at least 12 months before they will even think of moving you again. Are you all with me? I know this part is boring, but trust me, it’s vital to understanding the whole story. OK, the next part to understand is the BRAC. Don’t worry, I am not going to go down that rabbit hole, all you need to know is that it is a congressional mandate to move a unit from Point A to Point B, lock, stock and barrel. Now, the BRAC for my husbands unit occurs in June, and because we got here in August, according to policy, we can’t move until August. But his unit moves in June. Does the problem become clear?

Now let me explain about DA Form 4187. This is a personnel action form. You can use this form to request schools, duty stations, sex changes, and exceptions to policy. (OK, I might be kidding about the sex change, but in today’s Army, who knows). It’s the exception to policy we care about for this story. In November, being the smart people we are and seeing the discrepancy in timelines between our move and the unit’s move,  my husband put in a 4187 for an exception to policy to that 12 month rule. This change would allow us to move in June WITH the unit instead of August. WHY does it matter? Because my husband’s job moves in June, and just because it’s moving and we’re not doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to BE THERE to do his job. And to be there, he has to go TDY (Temporary Duty)- which costs A LOT OF MONEY. Think about it: meals, hotels, mileage, per diem, etc. etc. In a sense we are trying to SAVE the Army money by moving early. I mean, they are going to spend the money to move us ANYWAY, so why not do it June and save all that TDY money. BECAUSE THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE.

My husband did the right thing and submitted the 4187, where it was approved by everyone up the chain of command but the Brigade commander. In fact, it just sat on his desk- for THREE months. Finally, John had had enough. He called IG (inspectors general) and said “Hey I have an issue, can you help.” They must have helped because soon after he went to talk to said commander about the 4187. According to  my husband, they had a nice long talk, with said commander agreeing that moving early was best for everyone’s interest, and he would approve the 4187 and move it up to the HRC (Human Resources Command) for final approval.

Not two fucking days go by, and John is informed that INDEED the HRC received said 4187 with a DENIAL from the Brigade commander. The SAME one that sat there, and told my husband, TO HIS FACE, that he would approve it. First, he’s a liar- straight up. Second, according to regulations, he doesn’t have the authority to approve or disapprove it ( he can only send it up to HRC with a recommendation to approve or disapprove- it’s a fine line in regulation, nonetheless, it is there)

Third- he only did it because my husband called IG, which he wouldn’t have had to do, if the man could run his office correctly and get paperwork in and out of his office in A TIMELY MANNER. Last, because he has has got his panties in a twist, he will end up costing the Army (and the government, and hence the taxpayers- YOU) more money.

Dude, it’s only February but you already the front runner for my ASSHAT of the year awards. Wear the honor proudly.

What is UP with all these changes?

Last modified on 2010-02-07 15:50:32 GMT. 8 comments. Top.

Hey, I know you getting tired of all the changes and the back and forth. TOUGH. When I started this blog I used the domain I already owned, installed wordpress and set up shop. In the last 5 month I have had a crash course on branding, graphics, and crashes in general. Once I acquired the accidental musings domain I quickly formed in my mind how I wanted to things to look, and the first two big steps were to move my blog to the new domain and get branding set. Those two things are now done, so the logo you see now is THE logo, no more changes (thanks Adrienne! (@solarpowerspork)), and the blog is moved (thanks Hosting24!). So update your feed, please!

But more changes are on the way! All are cosmetic- need to get the blog background in, update the splash page (amydphillips.com), get all my analytics and claim tokens moved over. Feedback is always welcome. Ignored usually, but welcome nonetheless.

What is all this leading to? If you must know, it leads to a complete social media branding package and allow me to submit a trademark claim (anyone want to help with that?), and for the readers of this blog, that means squat, but you asked so I answered. But what you may like, is that this will also lead to blog store where you can pick up some branded merch, some of it will even be free (i.e. laptop stickers and magnets), cause working the street corner for extra money is getting old, people.

Ok, now you know, so quit your bitchin’. That’s my job, and that’s why I have this blog.

This Conversation Must Have Taken Place

Last modified on 2010-02-03 14:35:46 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

In the job that I have it is common to move from task to task as the current contract wraps up and a new one begins. This means that every time I move to a new task, I essentially get a new ‘boss’ or in consultant-speak a new ‘task lead’. This is the person that will give me my tasks. This means that I will touch base with my real supervisor (called a Front Line Leader or FLL) from time to time. My FLL is a great person and I have worked with her for a while now, so she has a good idea of how I think and how I work. Lucky her.

Even though our company is 20,000 plus, we tend know all the same people. So it never fails, that when my FLL and I discuss my new task and I say I’ll be working with XX, she says ‘Oh, I know XX.” Then in my brain I imagine that as these two will get together and will eventually talk about me. (There is no reason for me NOT to believe that all conversations eventually come to me. So there.) This is how I imagine that conversation must have went:

XX: So I’m working with Amy, isn’t she on your team?

FL: Yeah. She’s nice.

{pause}

XX: What?

FLL: Nothing.

XX: Really, what?

FLL: Well, it’s just that Amy can be a bit different to work with.

XX: Different, how?

FLL; She lacks editing software

XX: What?!

FLL: You know, editing software, she just says whatever on her mind.

XX: Really?

FLL: Really. DEAR GOD KEEP HER AWAY FROM THE CLIENTS!

I do truly seem to lack the editing software. Tact is totally foreign to me. I don’t grasp the concept that you shouldn’t talk to everyone the same. Dude, I don’t care if you CEO or client, talk like a dumbass and I will tell you that you are being a DUMBASS.

Here is the best conversation I ever had with a client-

Client: Are you sure we should do it this way?

Amy: Yes, it will make the whole process easier.

Client: Would you lie to me?

Amy: Of course I would.

Client:: ….

Amy: But I am telling the truth about this being the best way to do this.

He thought it was the funniest thing I ever said. But he realized the truth of it. Of course, I am going to lie to you, but I tend to smile while I’m doing it, so that makes me a bad liar. It’s just easier for me if I be upfront with you. AT ALL TIMES. So if you think you  might like to recommend this blog to someone, you might want to have that conversation with them. Editing software NOT INCLUDED.

Dear Retailer

Last modified on 2010-02-07 15:23:23 GMT. 6 comments. Top.

Dear Retailer-

Yes, I am the mother of a tween girl, and I appreciate that you want to market stuff to her, in the hopes that she will influence me to buy her the product that you are marketing. You are partly right, but in the end I have my own criteria for opening my wallet. So if that is the way you want to play the game please let me lay some ground rules.

First, Chris Rock said it best when talking about his responsibilities as a parent to his daughter. Actually, he narrowed it down to one responsibility: “Keep Her Off the Pole”. I think that’s a good motto, so that’s a good place to start. My daughter at no time in her life will ever aspire to be a hooker. That being said, any clothes that show more skin than the average, oh let’s say, Catholic School Uniform, are verboten. Yes, miniskirts are allowed, but I shouldn’t cringe EVERY TIME there is a stiff wind. And NO ONE, and I DO MEAN NO ONE, needs to see her belly button. Why are trying to dress my daughter as if she is ready for something she is YEARS away from thinking about. Every piece of clothing MUST pass the touch your toes and raise your arms test. If you can touch your toes and raise your arms above your head and I DON’T see any skin I don’t want to see, then you are good to go. Remember my job is to keep her off that stripper pole, and that begins by not DRESSING her like she belongs on that pole.

Let’s talk fabrics. Look, I’m a child of the 80′s so that gives you a LOT of leeway. I get the ripped fabrics, leather, and distressed looks. But vinyl? Never. Suede with fringe? So not happening. See through? See, uh…no. Lace? Wait til her wedding. OK, let’s move on.

Labels- they come and go. There are few that I trust and will spend money on. I do that because of their reputation for quality, not their ability to help market the latest pop star. And dear pop star, I know that you think that you need to share your creativity with the fashion world, but, trust me, you don’t. You can barely sing, and you sure as hell can’t design clothes to make me part with my somewhat hard earned cash.

Size- I will NOT let her squeeze a size 8 ass into your version of an 8, which is actually a 4 to everyone else. So stop with the magical shrinking clothes. It’s a near impossible task these days to make a young girl feel good about her body, and I don’t need you adding fuel to the fire. So if you start slimming down your sizes I will size down the amount of money I spend on your clothes, K?

Price. I know you want to make my daughter want your item, and you think that if you price it high enough, she will HAVE TO HAVE IT. Guess what else she has to have? A college education. Between your overpriced (oh yeah, I went there) and her 529, guess which one is winning.

And then there are those retailers out there, that will never ever ever ever ever ever get my business. Let’s name names.  Hollister and all associated companies, reasons here, here, or any of these lawsuits. And Victoria’s Secret, if she needs fancy lingerie, she can get a job and buy it herself. And I won’t make her wear clothes from Wal-Mart.

So those are rules. I don’t think they’re too stringent. I make the money, not her. Market like you want, but, if you want me to buy, you will make clothes that I will actually let her wear.

Sincerely,

Mother of a tween clothes horse

Where Karma and I call it even

Last modified on 2010-02-09 15:45:35 GMT. 4 comments. Top.

This story actually starts with my dog, my precious lovable Oreo. You see Oreo, as you may have heard, is a dog, and according to this book (one of my children’s faves) everybody poops. Hence, we can assume safely that my dog poops. I have it on good authority that he actually does this quite often. Now when we had a yard just under an acre (yes, in North Carolina and it still did not make up for the 20 mile commute to the nearest Starbucks) the poop was not so much a problem. But now we have a yard the size of a postage stamp, and regular clean-ups become necessary. My fearless husband does this task at least once a week. He scoops up the deposits with a shovel and puts them in an old cat litter container (not the cardboard ones but the big sturdy plastic ones, the ones that need a crowbar to open). Once it is full we place it in the trashcan for collection. The trash man dumpeth and the poop goeths away. Except last Monday we had a storm. And what happens in storms? trash-cans fall over (and people around here drive like the aforementioned poo, but that’s another post). However, as we left Monday morning we were blissfully unaware that our dog’s ‘business’ was about to become such a hot topic.

Here is what we gathered happened- the trashcan that was holding the ‘business’ fell over, thereby knocking open the poo bucket and creating a mess. Now, if we had seen that this had happened we would have cleaned it up right away, but we were at work. So, it stands to reason that we WOULD have taken care of it when we had gotten home. Except we found this note on our door-

Classic, right? It’s not like we planned it…but if we had we would have definitely made sure to inconvenience this woman. She is the bane of our neighborhood, even going so far as to once calling my daughter a loud-mouth (which may be true, but as an adult you should NEVER insult someone else’s child. NEVER EVER EVER). Anyhoo, we looked at the note, took a deep breath, and reminded ourselves that we were moving in less than 5 months. She could be someone else’s problem then. Besides we are renters, her threat to call the HOA carried about as much weight as a threat to call the Mounties. Pfft, whatever. Lady, if poop-picking-up, note writing is your thing, all I can say is- YOU NEED A JOB (and possible a life, but let’s start small). But karma came through for us, because tonight we were greeted with this sight:

Yes, that is her chimney on fire. And why do chimneys catch on fire? Because they’re not cleaned, which I’m pretty sure is a violation of the HOA agreement (for this VERY REASON- because when they finally do catch on fire, they burn your house AND your neighbor’s house!) Now, everyone is fine, no one was hurt, and I certainly wouldn’t and didn’t wish for something bad to happen to her. But it’s got to happen to someone, right? And HAD Karma been taking nominations, I just might have put her name in. Not for something awful like injury or death or job/ home loss, but maybe something inconvenient. Just. like. this.

For the moment, universe- you and I can call it square.

Click here, to go to Flickr and see more photos of the action.

P.S. Let me stress, AGAIN, no one was hurt and property damage was minimal (except for the smoke)

Call me anything but that…

Last modified on 2010-01-21 13:52:50 GMT. 8 comments. Top.

My husband is in the Army, so apparently that gives people the cajones right to call me an Army wife. Let me assure you that this is not the case. Want to piss me off in 2 seconds flat, come up to my and thank me for my husband’s service. What a joke.

First, let’s start with the whole ‘Army wife’ thing. That description is two words that depends on my husband to describe me. See the problem? Do you describe him as a ‘Consultant’s Husband’. No? Then don’t describe me in terms of my husbands career. And while we are on the subject, let me assure you, that I can provide for myself, I am successful in my own right, and even make more money than him, thank you very much. I especially don’t want my daughter to go around thinking “That’s my mom, the army wife”. Nope. I want her to think “That’s my mom- a strong, independent, successful career woman who loves her family very much. And my Dad served in the Army for blah-blah years.”

Now I have known many Army wives over the years that are all about their husbands career. Oh, they can’t possible have a job, because of the deployments. Know what? I get myself a babysitter, and trot my ass of to my job. Or maybe you see them crying as their husband leaves and returns. You know what my husbands gets? A “Don’t get shot, see you in blah-blah months” and “You’re home? Please take out the trash.” Think my husband is resentful? Think again. Do you know how many soldiers he has coddle whose wives are home going crazy, going wild, or just plain going? When he is out on mission his mind is on the mission, not what is wife doing.

This isn’t to say that the Army doesn’t rule our lives. It does. It determines where we go, where we live, how we live, separations, promotions, etc. etc. But a lot of people go through that, and they aren’t in the Army. I don’t need a Family Support Group (FSG) to get me through deployments, I just need someone to down a couple of bottles of wine with or mow my grass. If your husband is in the military and you are ALL about that, get on with your bad self. It’s just not for me.

I remember once, when my husband was promoted to Sergeant or Staff Sergeant, I don’t remember, they had me come up to the front during the ceremony and gave me a certificate thanking me for my service as an Army wife. I was LIVID. I graciously accepted the award, but told my husband later- never again. I want an award for something I DO, not for something I happen to be. It harkens back to the day when a woman was congratulated for making a ‘good match’ or being a ‘good wife’. Sheesh.

And thanking me for our service? WHY? First, I didn’t do anything, and second, my husband sure as hell couldn’t give a rats ass about ‘service’. He was an 18 year old farm boy, who barely passed high school. With a mother as crazy as a loon, a dad in prison, and the only good jobs involved factory work, he saw his chance to get out. And boy did he. In the Army he has found success that he may not have found in Northern Ohio.

(Let me digress here to say that my husband will tell you that he is not a success, and I always beg to differ. He says he hates crowds, but volunteered to be part of an organization built on team work and units and people. He says he isn’t good with people or with public speaking, but he has managed to pass every promotion board with flying colors, even Soldier of the month boards. He has worked hard, and along the way, picked up enough promotions to now be a Sergeant First Class, he has earned a Bronze Star, Army Achievement Medals, NATO medals and medal after medal. He was even picked up by a special unit, HE IS THAT GOOD. If he isn’t a success now, when the rest of his family is still barely making it in Ohio, I don’t know what is. The Army has turned him into a intelligent, articulate, capable man who gets things done. Period.)

Back to whole service thing. His thanks is that you pay your taxes, so he gets paid, and his kids go to a good public school. This isn’t to say he won’t be respectful if you see him in uniform and go up to him and thank him, we’ll just make fun of you later. And those yellow ribbon stickers on the back of your car. WHAT IS THE POINT?! You aren’t supporting the military by putting some tacky sticker on you car, you’re supporting the chinese factory worker who made it, and the big box store that sold it to you.

You probably think I am being a bitch, and, yeah, I am. (As Tina Fey said “Bitch is the new black”). But my husband and I are successful each in our own right, neither one of us is a success because the other is succeeding.

So please, don’t call me an Army wife, it’s not who I am. Unless there a discount for it. Then let me show you my military id.

A Temporary Life

Last modified on 2010-02-09 15:43:42 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

At the moment it feels like I am just kind of passing through. As mentioned in my post here, we are only here for a few months for the Army moves us on again. THANK YOU ARMY!

I was so excited when I  found out that we were coming back here to Maryland. We have been stationed here before, a couple of years ago, before we went to Ft. Bragg. I love Maryland and Baltimore. The Baltimore area has everything that North Carolina lacks, and I could go on forever about that- but I am trying to stay on task here. I knew that John would have to move on to Ft. Lee but for a while I was under the impression that I could forgo moving my kids again. In my head I had the perfect plan (note: appartently ‘in my head’ is the place where all those plans work) my husband would go to Ft. Lee and then could come home on weekends. John was dead set against it (and FOR THE RECORD this was solution that he was all for when we lived in North Carolina).  I, being me, scoffed at his opinion and decided that this is what we would do. However, my husband then started to speak my language. His exact words were “We can’t afford two places AND allow you to shop, you will have to choose.” I offered to start packing right then.

All this means that we will only be back in this area for a couple of months. That makes everything temporary. Can’t put the kids in sports cause they finish the season. Kids don’t want to make friends cause that makes leaving more painful. Can’t join any clubs, do any meaningful longterm volunteering, no buying furniture, etc., etc. Essentially a temporary life. It can be so depressing. For me and my children.

John isn’t here anymore, not mentally, he is already thinking about the next duty station; where we are going to live, schools, how to set up his office in the new building. I can only sigh and ‘whatever’ (intelligent comebacks, I’m your gal!).

I’ll miss this area. I love Baltimore. It’s like quirky and kitschy and unique. It has both elegance and white trash, both refinement and coarsness, and some of the best food around. It’s the tacky tschotke of the America. Hopefully, someday I’ll get to come back.

But now to turn my attention to Virignia! Oh, it’s gonna be fun just to mistype that, you know what’s coming don’t you?

Where the Heroine Breaks her blog….

Last modified on 2010-01-12 01:03:33 GMT. 8 comments. Top.

If you were around on Saturday you might have noticed that my site was down. I know that this was devastating for all 3 of you that read my blog, but for me it was even more frustrating because I had caused the problem that took my blog down. Yep, that’s right…me. One wrong line of code in my files and BAM everything was gone. Of course, the first thing that I did was the most logical- PANIC. You see I am not the best at backing up things. For Pete’s sake it took my husband losing ALL my digital photos, not once but THREE times for me to move them onto a separate back-up hard drive. (Because surely lighting didn’t strike TWICE did it? Nope, it doesn’t. It comes in threes. Dammit)

This all happened because WordPress let me get all cocky. You see, I know that when you come here you don’t want to wait forever for the page to load up. It’s annoying, and there’s wine to drink. I had read an article on how to make your blog faster. One of the recommendations is to use a plug-in called wp super cache. This clears out all the cache that the blog builds up through posting and admin functions and other small things. The plug-in was supposed to clear the cache and therefore speed up loading time for the site. Only, it wasn’t one of those simple plug-ins that you download and activate, You have to go in to you and change some code, make some stiff writable, so on and so forth. And wouldn’t you know, that I screwed it up. Down it went. No admin area, no files, nothin’.

A word about WordPress. Millions use it because it is so flexible. You can make it as easy to use or hard as you want. The more customization you want the harder it is to code and make things click together. My blog is somewhere in the medium range, which means I go into the root files on a regular basis to change things on my blog and customize my branding. I was doing sssooo good too! Nonetheless, there was no backing out of this mistake. I would have to do a restore or start from scratch. And by start from scratch I mean give up completely.

A big shout-out to Hosting 24 who hosts this blog for me. I did have a back up that I had done on the 4th of January (yea, me!) and the fine technicians would restore it for me. Unfortunately, something was corrupted in that file and it couldn’t be restored. Eventually they restored a server back-up. I was only missing a few days worth of stuff that I quickly restored and all was right in my little blog world again.

However, this still doesn’t solve my problem. Because I use pictures on a regular basis, this can make pages slow to load and contribute to lag. No solution as yet, but stay tuned for some small changes so things don’t get bogged down.

What’s the moral of the story? WordPress is lovely and wonderful, but a fickle little bitch.

My Caring Meter is on the Empty Side

Last modified on 2010-01-10 02:38:13 GMT. 4 comments. Top.

A couple of  years ago, long after my kids stopped being babies, I found myself in an odd minority. It is inevitable at the office or gathering someone will have a baby there, usually a child under 12 months. Obviously this child is the light of their life and the MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY ever, according to the gaggle (yea, I said it- gaggle…shoot me) of women. And all I can think is ‘meh’. It’s not like I have NEVER like cute little babies. I have had two children and as babies I was so in to them that I didn’t even go back to work until my son was 3 years old. But they’re not babies anymore, and I have found myself not liking babies all that much anymore. For a while, I was terrified that I had made a serious life mistake in having children, what if, deep down, I didn’t really like kids? What then?

(My deepest fear has always been that I would turn out like the woman that Cloris Leachman played in the awful movie ‘Hanging Up’. To summarize she left the family while her daughters were still young and during the movie one of the daughters goes to see her. She tries to reconnect over talk of roses, but before they get very far the mother stops her and says “I can’t do this. Be a mother. It just didn’t take.”  I have never forgotten those words. What if I was THAT woman? DEAR GOD, what had I done? Then I realized that I truly, madly, deeply loved my offspring and panic attack over!)

But the problem was soon diagnosed…I simply didn’t care. Now before you start leaving mean comments, it’s not that I don’t care about ANYTHING it’s just that I discovered that I only have a certain amount of caring and most of it was used up on other things (like chocolate). It’s not that I don’t WANT to care but I just can’t, and to force myself to do so would be emotionally exhausting. I think that I have always subconsciously known this. For example, I know many people who are moved by those sponsor-a-child commercials, but not me. I couldn’t bring myself to get worked up. In fact, I would get kind of mad. There are kids in my city that could use money and to me I didn’t know why we send money for kids overseas when kids in our neighborhoods and cities needed money. Perhaps that is another post.

In short, I do not possess an endless amount of caring that some people do. (There is no shame in it, well perhaps there is, but…SURPRISE…I couldn’t care less.) In fact, it’s quite liberating. I can seem callous and unfeeling, but when I tell you that I care about something, you can know I REALLY care about it.

Sometimes, I have to force myself to remember to ask people how their day was if they ask me first. I don’t really want to know how their day was, and I KNOW that they don’t give a shit about mine. Man, small talk is such a waste of time. (This from the person who spends hours typing in 140 characters or less…told ya I was a hypocrite). The point is, forgive me if I forget to ask about your friend’s baby or coo over your new puppy.  But if I ask you how you are doing, you can bet I really want to know.

Bottom line: I don’t like babies and puppies and it’s simply too much work to fake it. Sue me.

Resolutions…not so much, actually

Last modified on 2010-01-05 16:09:14 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Why do people make resolutions, there is honestly no point to it. I fully expect twitter to fill up with things people say they will or want to do, and then ultimately tell us why they couldn’t do it.

As I see more and more people take to twitter and facebook with their resolution failures, my first thought is SUCKERS! Cause I am never one to pass up some schadenfreude. But my second thought is why? Why do you make resolutions? I know that you have the best of intentions but some things are incredibly hard to fight and they are especially hard to fight when you take the most stressful time of the year and try to change something drastic about yourself. That’s usually what you are trying to do isn’t it? Change something you don’t like about yourself? Why can’t you and yourself just get along….but I digress.

I, of course, am no exception (Another warning: I am big hypocrite). Though the official line is that I don’t make resolutions, secretly I do. I rarely try to change something starting on New Year’s Day, I wait until I am good and pissed off at a bad habit before I get rid of it. Instead I just start my year with a “This is the last year I will…” or “2009 was the last year I will (or won’t)…”.  For instance, 2009 is that last year I will let my fear of flying keep me grounded. Or this is the last year I will drive my car…cause I so WANT a new one. There aren’t many of those phrases to start out with but as the year wears on more and more I will find myself uttering that phrase. ESPECIALLY at work. Often I will hear myself saying “That is the LAST TIME I work on his project.”

In the end, I try not make January 1^stthe day I decide to change my life. There seems to be no purpose and certainly no drive behind the promises other than stupid tradition. Do as I do, wait for something to make you so fucking mad you never want to do, or see, or hear or be near it again, then change it. Works like a charm. But let me save you one moment of pisstivity: Nicolas Cage movies now suck, so don’t bother. Thank me later.

On another note: I have put out a request for guest bloggers so from time to time you will see some guests here. Don’t worry they are all properly vetted after many glasses of wine. And if you interested send me a message through the contact form.

Why I’ll Miss 2009…

Last modified on 2010-02-09 15:43:40 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

As promised in my last post (seen here) there are some things I did like about 2009. I don’t know that I can come up with 10 of them, but I will list the ones that stick out.

I left North Carolina. While I hate moving, I couldn’t get out of NC fast enough. Just not my scence. I know lots of people that love it, want to move there, or want to visit there. More power to ya. I love the mid-atlantic coast from it’s IKEAs and public transport, to its excellent school and cultural offerings. I hope never to be south of Virginia again.

I started blogging. It turns out to be fun, and there are a tons of bloggers out there who are supportive, welcoming, funny and intelligent. And most of them are women. If you aren’t reading a blog written by a woman, you are missing out. There is a perception that all women bloggers are mommybloggers, and that is simply isn’t true. Yes, I may write about my children on my blog but that is in no way that will be my main focus in writing this blog (of course, I love the mommybloggers and read them all the time. WORD).

One word: Twitter. There are two groups when it comes to twitter; it’s a life-changing way to communicate or a waste of time. I am in the former group. I have met an amazing group of people on twitter (and, yes, the requisite amount of creeps too, but that is what the unfollow button is for). These people will laugh at my jokes, read my blog, encourage me on a bad day, and always have an answer to any question that I have. Thank you twitterverse!

My job. I have been at my job for over 5 years and I still love what I do and the people I work for. Not many people get to say that, but I do, and I am thankful.

My mom came to see me. With her living on the west coast, I don’t get to see her very often, but she flew out here this year. I do truly love it when family visits.

My best friend came out to see me before I left NC. She lives in Montana, and seeing her again gave me joy beyond words. I keep trying to get her to move to the East Coast, but so far, no luck.

And, the usual blessings, which I NEVER take for granted: our health, our family, our careers, and so much more.

Stay tuned, 2010 may turn out to be one HELL of a year!

10 Things I Hate About You (2009)

Last modified on 2010-02-01 01:43:36 GMT. 4 comments. Top.

Update:  the idea for this post ‘may’ have come from this tweet.

I LOVE the movie 10 Things I Hate About You. In fact, they are soon going to release a tenth anniversary edition, and I am so all over that. And since I love lists (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED) I thought I would take a moment to say “#%@! you 2009″. Here are the reasons why:

10. I was still living in North Carolina in January. (North Carolina and I don’t get along, kind of a personal thing so please don’t ask)

9. My husband was still deployed during one of biggest snowstorms North Carolina had ever seen. (I don’t ‘do’ shoveling. Period.)

8. My husband left his unit. This meant it was time for a new unit and that meant time for a move. As anxious as I was to get out of NC, I was NOT anxious to start packing boxes.

7. And my husband decided to a ditty move. This meant we moved ourselves instead of the Army doing it all. Great way to make money and to break up a marriage all in one go.

6. And the Army jerked us around. You are going to Ft. Lee, no wait Aberdeen Proving Grounds, no Ft. Lee, no…it’s DEFINITELY Aberdeen. We get to Aberdeen and his unit is all “Why are you here, you should go to Ft. Lee” at which point we considered murder. (For the reason for this boondoggle, read here.)

5. We got to stay at Aberdeen, but will have to move in less than a year to Ft. Lee. Whoopee!

4. My daughter finally discovered the Twilight saga. My life has as I knew it has ended.

3. My son discovered zombies. Do you know how many zombie games are out there? And how much EACH and EVERY one of them cost?! Yeah, well, I do.

2. I turned 37.

1. I’m still overweight.

2009, you can suck it!

Stay tuned for the 10 things I DID love about 2009.

(BTW- Click the link in the first sentence for the best part of the movie)

BUT…We are healthy, employed, and somewhat happy…so that’s something, right?

Cookie Contest!

Last modified on 2010-02-09 15:43:04 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

My work was holding a cookie contest and I always love to enter. First, there are cookies. Second, it’s a fun time. Third, did I mention the cookies? The first thing I had to decide, however, was what to bake. So I put out a call on twitter, and that call was answered by one of my favorite twitteres chefashbabe. She runs a great blog called “Memoirs from My Kitchen” and she recommended that I make these awesome Chocolate Caramel Bars. The name alone had me hooked, so I though I would share this great recipe with you. Ready?

First the ingredients:

• 1 Cup All Purpose Flour
• 1/4 Cup Packed Brown Sugar
• 1/2 Cup Butter
• 2 Cups coarsely chopped Pecans
• 1 Cup Flaked coconut
• 1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
• 2 tsp. vanilla
• 20 vanilla caramels
• 2 Tbs. Milk
• 6 ounces semisweet chocolate chips

* NOTE: I made a double batch, but the recipe here is for a single batch.

1. Preheat oven to 350°f.
2. For crust, in a medium bowl stir together flour and brown sugar.

3. Cut the butter into the mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs.

4. Press flour mixture into the bottom of a 9 x 13 x 2 inch baking pan.

5.  Bake 15 minutes.

5.  Sprinkle coconut and nuts (if using, I didn’t in this recipe) over partially baked crust.

6.  In a small bowl stir together sweetened condensed milk and vanilla

7.  Pour over coconut and nuts.

8.  Bake for 25-30 minutes more or until set.

9. Let stand in pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes

10.  In a small saucepan combine caramels and milk.

11. Heat and stir over medium-low heat just until caramels melt. (this picture shows them about halfway melted, but remember that they need to be all the way melted, a smooth, milky mixture)

12. Drizzle caramel mixture over baked mixture. Sprinkle top with chocolate chips.

13.  Cool completely and cut into bars.

And here is a shot of the finished product at the judging today.

I didn’t win the competition but eating these yummy bars will be prize enough. Thanks again to Chefasbabe, and I will be visiting your blog again soon for some more yummy treats.

The Bacon’s Box

Last modified on 2009-12-23 18:57:16 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Gather ’round now as I tell you the tale of an extinct creature known in our family by the nefarious moniker “The Bacon’s Box”. Alas, no real pork is involved…disappointing but true. You see, in my family I would spend Christmas Eve with my dad and his family (a sad little unit of never more then 7 people) and Christmas with my mom and her family at our Uncle’s James house in a small town in Georgetown, Indiana.

We would all gather at the house, starting sometime around lunch on Christmas Day, for dinner, fun, and presents. There were quite a few of us as it included my mom, her two brothers, spouses, their kids, and my Grandpa and Grandma Howard. The time period was the early to mid eighties, and as the youngest of the kids (at that time) I was already ready for presents even before the chocolate pie had been served (and if you have never had chocolate pie, then YOU HAVE NOT LIVED A FULL LIFE).

My Grandma Howard was known as Margie to friends, Grandma to us, Mom to my mom, and at Christmas- Gift Wrapper Extraordinaire.  Seriously, people, if you didn’t invest in 3M industries (makers of Scotch Tape) in the early eighties, you missed out on a gold mine. Because my Grandma didn’t really want to see your joy at opening the gift, see wanted to see your sweat and toil in trying to to get through the tape and to the actual gift. And you couldn’t tear at the paper, OH NO NO NO, my grandmother was a child of the depression and EVERYTHING that could be reused was. So if you began to tear the paper, she would stop you with “YOU’RE TEARING IT! It’s pretty and I want to use it again!” So you would stop and reevaluate how to get the wrapping off, through the mile  of tape, without ripping it. So hard was the task before you that there should have been a prize for this. (And I don’t know that I actually saw any of that wrapping paper reused…oh, Grandma, you sly dog, you).

Assuming you got through the paper, the box would tell you if you Christmas was going to be good or not. Because the first person to spot the distinctive gold stripes around the edges would shout “BACON’S BOX!” What is Bacon’s you ask? Well, it was one of those classic anchor stores that resided at the mall. They have been replaced with Macy’s or Nordstrom’s and in the case of the Bacon’s in Louisville, a Needless Markup, but for 95 years, Bacon’s reigned supreme in Louisville, KY.

(In one memorable location, it sat at the opposite end of the Lazarus department store. Did anyone else think that it was funny that a store named after a dead Jewish man was down the mall from a store whose name meant tasty fried pork strips. Just asking.)

When you bought clothes from Bacon’s they put it in a box for you. This box was white with the Bacon’s logo on top, and around the sides were one-inch gold stripes. There was no other box like it, and as an 10 year old, I can assure you that it was the last thing I wanted to see when I opened a gift. It meant one thing: clothes. Yuck. The adults however were different. To see the box meant that their mother had bought them new clothes, something that I’m sure reaffirmed that ‘mom loves me’ feeling. So for some the Bacon’s box meant good presents for other it meant just plain old clothes. Again, my grandmother was the thrifty sort (as mentioned above), and after a few years had quite a collection of Bacon’s boxes. So the cries of “BACON’S BOX!!” became more numerous as the years wore on, even though they were stocked with socks from Dillards, a sweater from Penney’s, or, in the case of my sister, a sheared lamb’s wool vest that she just HAD TO HAVE! Even I, who still wanted toys, got faked out a couple of times with the distinctive box.

Of course the years moved on, my Grandpa developed Alzheimer’s and had to be put in a nursing home, and my Grandmother moved into a tiny apartment to be closer to him. My uncle divorced, remarried, and had another child very late in life, my other uncle also married again and moved across the river to Louisville. My mom even married again and move to Illinois. The Christmas tradition had been broken. But now, when we look back and think of those times and the great Christmases we had, we always remember that box and even now in unison we will yell “BACON’S BOX.”

For those from Louisville here is a great link about vintage Louisville Department Stores.

21 Questions for My Daughter

Last modified on 2009-12-31 01:09:57 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

My daughter recently asked for a Facebook account. I acquiesced because I saw no harm to it. I monitor her computer activity and felt that I could jump on there and intervene if things got dicey. Well, she recently took one of those quizzes that Facebook perpetuates. You know the ones, they sound really interesting, but in the end they tend to be complete time wasters. I try to avoid these at all costs, but Cheyenne decided she had time to kill (and what 11-year-old doesn’t really) and took a quiz. When I saw the answers I knew I had to share, so insightful were the responses.

(Note to my daughter in the future…this post is not meant to embarrass or otherwise harass you, it’s funny, that’s all)

• What flavor of ice-cream is your favorite?

chocolate

OK, we started off with an easy one. no surprises here

• What would you name your children?

idk porbaly jhon.rose

I sincerely hope that these are two separate names, and not a signal that you intend to saddle your son with the name John Rose, ’cause I am NOT paying for that therapist bill

• What’s your greatest achievement?

winning

And I hope you always get to win…really I do.

• Describe your wildest fantasy

hmm thats hard when i died in my dream

Had she been a couple of years older, this question could have gotten dicey, but fortunately for me we are not there yet. Nonetheless, dying in a dream can be scary. And good job telling facebook, and not, oh…I don’t know…YOUR MOTHER!

• If you had a year to live, what would you do?

i would go to the doctors to see if they could save me

I love the practicality of this answer…awesome

• Is love blind?

yes love can be sometimes

Yeah, for now, but wait ’til you have a boyfriend that can’t keep his eyes in his head, then you will REALLY want to make love blind.

• Do you believe in God?

yes i do

I should be happy that she answered this question in the positive, but I really want her to question this a bit more. But it does show a spiritual side that I believe is necessary to move through life.

• Do you think aliens are watching us?

im am alein just kidding

Just like her mother, all important questions should be answered with sarcasm

• If you could join any band in concert, who would you join?

im in band so i dont have to answer that

I don’t think the intention of this question was to see if you were in a school band, but teenage heartthrobs tend not to faze my daughter so I guess I am glad. But go on, sweetie, aim for the stars.

• If you could have lunch with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?

a dead person my gramma

This question really bothers me because the only person she knew that had died was my ex-stepmother. who succumbed to cancer last year. While I feel for my sister who lost her mother, the truth is that I HATED this woman. Cheyenne only met her once and never got to fully appreciate her special brand of crazy and I don’t have the heart to tell Cheyenne that death has not made her drug-addled, co-dependent, looney actions that I had to put up with any easier to deal with.

• Have you ever jumped on your bed?

yes when i was 4

Well, do it again, and while your at it giggle and laugh just because.

• How many brothers and sisters do you have?

one brothers he a dumbwitted fool

Even on Facebook, Trace gets no love. But I love the words she used. Of course the proper word is dimwitted, but she has put her own special spin on it. Can’t you just feel the love?

• What are 3 things you really like about Nancy?

she my gramma.She tought be how to bead.She is nice and funny

Nancy is my mom and Chey’s nana. She was there when Cheyenne was born and has been a big part of her life. Mom was just here and Cheyenne didn’t want to spend too much time with her, it’s part of the growing process, I know. But this little answer reminds me that they still have a lot of love for each other.

• Tell us a random fact about Tony

he my grampa der

I thought she meant to say ‘dear’ but as I read it out loud, she is saying ‘der’ like ‘duh’. She does not have a lot of respect for you, dear reader.

• If Carla knew today was their last day on Earth, how would they spend it and why?

well she my gramma and if she died i would cry

Carla is the woman my dad married after my other step-mother, and a vast improvement, let me tell you. There are too many questions about death here, and she does not know how to disassemble when questions tear at your heart.

• How has Nancy changed since you first met him/her?

she hasnt changed a bit she my gramma and she hasnt changed

Time stands still for the young. Oh, dear Cheyenne, open your eyes and see that time is passing and it is taking its toll on everyone, even for Nana. Cherish each moment with her.

• Would Carla be a good rapper?

I answered:”"

She did not answer this question, so I am going to go ahead and do it for her. No, my dad’s 50-something, Indiana raised, conservative wife would NOT make a good rapper. Just a guess though.

• What would Rich say if you hugged him/her right now?

I answered:”"

This question is about my brother, she doesn’t have an answer for this one. She hasn’t seen him in 3 or 4 years. I don’t have an answer either. We miss you, Richie, come visit soon.

• If Amy D Phillips went to a costume party, what would he/she wear?

she usally wears black dresses

My costume is that of woman without any love-handles!

• Does Tony like hugs?

from his garnd daughter yes (me)

This question comes off sounding kind of creepy to me, but Cheyenne is able to turn it around.

• Carla is most likely to break the law by

no

Yeah, we are going to skip past the fill-in-the-blank portion and go right to “no”. Good thinking, you never know who’s watching.

• If Nancy was really rich, would you ask him/her for stuff?

NO I HATE MONEY -__-

I am SO going to remind her of this next time WE GO TO THE MALL!

• What does Amy D Phillips do when he/she is bored?

work cause she is my mom

Honey, that’s not boredom, that’s work. And that’s life.

• Could Tony live without a computer?

yes anyone could

I guess she’s right. ANYONE COULD, but would anyone want to? The answer for me is no. For my dad, he thinks the greatest invention is cable news, so yeah, I guess he’d be OK.

• What does Amy D Phillips never leave home without?

her phone

So that when you leave your homework, or flute, or coat at home, I can call you dad and yell at him to get it. Or get goodnight texts from you when I am traveling for work. It’s essential it’s true.

Thanks Cheyenne, for that insight into your personality. It was fun, now if you excuse me, my crops need tending in Farmville.

I Cannot Concentrate that Hard

Last modified on 2009-12-08 19:59:30 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

As you may know, I am a latecomer to this new-fangled technology of blogging. It’s something that I have wanted to do for a long time, but never attempted, because get this…it takes actual commitment. I know! How unfair and stuff. So I waited until my kids were old enough to be on autopilot most of the time, and jumped right in. But I still needed a motivator. Sitting down and actually typing can be tedious when there are bright, shiny objects to look at (did I mention my severe ADD? ), and with that in mind I went out and found myself a motivator.

I stumbled across this National Blog Posting Month site or NaBloPoMo, which, as it turns out does not stand for Nasty Bloated Pond Monster. This initiative is simple, take a month, post every day for a month, and you will have started a great habit of posting regularly. This kind of thing can give you a boost up on your blog success. Cool. So here I go, and for three days straight I posted. And it rocked. However, it turns out that I really don’t want to write everyday. I don’t have that much to say. My life =  not that exciting. Shocking, yet oh so true. Plus, it put pressure on me. I flesh a lot of subject out in my head for days or weeks before I post them. This gives me time to see what works, what may be funny, what may be innappropiate, and what simply has to be discarded for the time being. Asking me to write everyday assumes I can do all that in a 24 hour period. Uh, not so much.

I am leaving the banner on sidebar up for the month of December, though. As a reminder to me that posting regularly IS important, and trying to to force creativity is doom. But you never know, you may get lucky, and one month I may have a lot to say, and I will post it…EVERY DAY. And you will stop following this blog, because you don’ t have that kind of time.

Love Letters

Last modified on 2010-02-09 15:41:53 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Today I arrived home to see one of those door hangers on my door. You know the ones that let you know that someone ‘offical’ had been by while you were gone and did ‘offical’ business? Yep, those ones.

This one was about my dog. Apparently one of our lovely neighbors decided to call animal control on us because we leave our dog out during the day. This particular love letter informed us that we were in violation of animal control law because we did not have a dog house or bed and no sustenance. Our dog Oreo, is apparently a victim of neglect. Really.

Well, that’s news to me. First off, we do leave the dog outside while we are gone during the day. Not because we are scared that he will have an accident, but because he has such bad separation anxiety that he will drag down the kids stuffed animal, dolls, toys, whatever and chew on them to make himself feel better. So we put him outside while we are gone, but he is left outside with food and water, and if the weather is wet he can go under the porch. When we come home, this poor mistreated dog is given love, attention, usually a pig ear, and a place on the couch- until we go to bed then he has his own bed in our room. People, I don’t get treated this good.

Oh, and to top things off, our cat cookie (who I have mentioned here and here) decided that this would be the day that she runs out the door. Usually, no problem because she roams around and then comes back in when we get home from work. But today, it was raining, and she decided to sit on the porch to keep dry and wait it out. And, of course, the animal control person is going to mention that, too. OF COURSE!

So thank you to my neighbors, for re-enforcing what I already knew. YOU SUCK! I don’t know which one it was exactly so I will lump you all in one suckish category. ‘K? If you had come and ask us about the dog or mentioned some way in which he was bothering you, we would have been happy to have a conversation about that. But we can’t have you be all brave and upfront and stuff, right?

So here is your love letter: I will continue to treat my spoiled pooch like I always do, and I LOVE the fact that I am moving in 7 months.

The Angriness

Last modified on 2009-12-14 18:07:44 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Today I was talking to one of my favorite twitterers and she mentioned how there was some angriness going on in her office today.  I had never thought of angriness as a noun but I liked the word so much that I had to write a blog post on it.

I have seen quite a lot of this noun. My family are pros are the Angriness. Especially the women. Along with wicked depression and emotional manipulation, it seems to be an inherited trait. (Hey, an inheritance is an inheritance, don’t knock it). We have been known to stay on our high horse for years at a time. This can mean extended silences that outlast even the merriest of Christmas cheer.

And it is no different in an office setting. I am one to give my opinions and it never fails that every time an assessment rolls around I am asked to work on my ‘communication skills’. I, of course, make the right noises that I will do just that. But I am proud of my angriness, people tend to respect it, and respect that I will tell them the truth. I try not to be mean or cutting (although sometime how can I resist?).  I tend not to screwed over, a big plus in my book. Naturally, I get all the de facto male comments about bitchiness or PMS, but not to my face. Is it wrong to like that so much?]

However, the problem with the high horse, is that you don’t get to see the other person’s view, and when you do, your perch can look a little silly. So don’t practice the Angriness if you are unable bring yourself to utter the word “Sorry.” Those two go hand-in-hand.

My point is this- have enough people told you that it is OK to display some of the Angriness? Well, you have my permission. Have at it.

Squirrel Stories

Last modified on 2010-02-09 15:41:06 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

Squirrels made a nest in our attic. Bad luck for the squirrels because as soon as they were spotted my husband (heretofore known as J) they became enemy number one. A plan was hatched was to evict them. But first we had to let our landlord know that they were there and that they needed to be gone.

Our landlord is pretty cool guy, and my husband is a good at fixing things. So our landlord was all hey if you can get rid of them be my guest, but if not let me know and I will call someone to take care of it. As soon J heard that he was ready to put his plan in action.

(Somewhat related: A couple of years ago, we went to Lowe’s because we had moles digging in our yard and I asked for something to get rid of them. The saleslady pointed to the repellent that the store carries. It was then that I made myself clear: I did not want to repel the moles, I wanted them dead. She told me they didn’t have what I was looking for. WHATEVER)

First part of the plan was to see what kind of squirrel colony we were dealing with. Obviously, we wanted to avoid disturbing of squirrel artist colony or something. Turns out to be a mother and three young (not babies, but almost full grown adult squirrels).

Phase one of the plan was for J to cut-off their escape route, cause there is nothing you want more when dealing with rodents is to back them in a corner. Right.

Phase two was to unleash eight pounds of hell of there in attic. This finely tuned killing machine had been known to take out baby rabbits and other rodents, so we were sure that it was in excellent condition to rid of us of this single mother and her freeloading ways. That was when we unleashed the….wait for it…..wait some more…..ready?…..COOKIE!

Yes, this fearsome cat was to be our rodent-killer. If you have not seen a picture of this cat, I recently featured her on my daily picture here.

Needless to say our killer cat failed us. Once she was launched into the attic to carry out the hit on her mark, she proceeded to meow. And meow. Until J took her back out.

Plan B- call a humane exterminator. He came out the next day.

Lesson learned.

Is that my dignity in the garbage disposal?

Last modified on 2009-11-16 01:24:46 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

If its one thing I’ve learned about raising kids, it’s that they never cease to surprise you. And not in the good way, either. Oh yes, there are those times of kisses and hugs and ‘I love yous’ that make each day wonderful. But so often there are the can-I-disappear-kind surprises that make you realize that motherhood came with an honorary citizenship to crazytown.

I was once a calm person. Now I know exactly how long I can yell without going hoarse. I was once cool (hey, maybe it was all in my head, but that counts, right?). Well, all gone now. And it has only gotten worse since my daughter has made here first forays into the pubescent era of her life.

I used to laugh when my mother told me that I would always be her baby. I thought this was a another clever mom device for ensuring offspring embarrassment. But it turns out that there is some truth to it. My daughter is my baby. And babies don’t wear bras, or have crushes, or think about the mysteries of procreation. Just doesn’t happen. Except that it is.

I am trying to be prepared, trying to be supportive and open, and definitely filling out applications for nunneries. But failing that I shall just have to hunker down and make it through. And I know that if my daughter managed to leave me any dignity from her formative years, that  she will undoubtedly shred them in the years to come.

To her, I’m not ‘cool’, I’m dumb, the meanest parent in the world, I have no idea what is going on, and, oh, my favorite, I don’t know anything about boys. My only comfort is that someday she too will have a daughter to do the same to her as she is doing to me.

Let the games begin.

Muuwwwwwaaaaahhhhh.

I kind of like this whole blog thing…

Last modified on 2009-11-08 15:40:32 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

When I started this blog, I was unsure about the direction I wanted to go. I know myself, and I knew that if I tried to blog about just one thing boredom would set in faster than you can say spellcheck. So for me the easiest thing was to write how I live, completely without purpose.

I know that some of us need to tell ourselves that we are here for a reason, that we have a higher purpose. But I don’t really buy that. That doesn’t mean that your existence doesn’t have purpose or that what you do for yourself or other people doesn’t matter. Quite the opposite, in fact. If life is as accidental as I believe then every time you effect events in the universe, the fact the you did that and could do that, is even more accidental and wonderful. Don’t worry if you don’t follow my reasoning, few people do.

Anyway, the blog. Yea, so I was wondering, how I could get people to read it, and if they read it, would they ‘get it’. But today I stopped wondering about that. I clicked on one of my pages that after a month is starting to fill out a little bit and read some of my past entries.

And I got it, and I laughed.

So mission accomplished.

I guess that means I’ll keep doing this whole blog thing. And maybe people will come along and read, and maybe not. It’s all the same to me.

Remembering the Beautiful Girl Within

Last modified on 2009-10-28 18:22:48 GMT. 0 comments. Top.

My daughter is 10. It’s not a wonderful age, and my heart aches to know that there are many more non-fun years to come. Puberty has begun to remove all traces of the baby girl she always been, and soon will replace it with the woman she will be.

I want my girl to be fiercely independent. To aim for college and mention marriage as ‘someday’. I want to her to be comfortable in herself and not change for anyone. I want everyone else to see how wonderful she is. I see it, why can’t they?  And sometimes I even wish that things would be easy for her in life.

You would think all parent would want things ‘easy’ for their child. But for me, less so. I know that the times that make her cry will make her stronger. I know that every time she gets heart broke she will (hopefully) make better choices in relationships the next time around. But as a mother, watching your child struggle is heartbreaking. So sometimes, I wish for things to be easy for her.

But the one thing I do not wish for her is beauty. Oh, I think she is beautiful, even with the acne starting.  And I know she will turn out pretty, but I truly do not want her to be beautiful. Beautiful women aren’t taken seriously, things come easier for them (whether they wish it to be so or not), and beautiful women are expected to always be stunning. (How many times have you seen a woman whose beauty has faded and had a little bit of schadenfreude?).

I don’t hate beautiful women, and being a human, I must admit that I may even be the least bit envious of their looks. But still, I want my daughter to be pretty, with a beautiful heart, a stunning laugh, gorgeous compassion, and a knock-out sense of love. Now that I would really be jealous of.

I will pluck your eyes out with a spoon (or why I hated the South)

Last modified on 2009-10-24 16:56:58 GMT. 4 comments. Top.

We moved to North Carolina in March of 2006. Now, I am from Kentucky so it’s not like I can’t say that I didn’t know what I was in for, but I had been out of the South a long time and I hoped that I would be able to adapt. I knew that the South as whole is more genteel, more conservative, and less diverse than the Baltimore/ DC area, and I expected to have to assert myself to get my point across. But I thought I could cope, do our time at Ft Bragg and return to civilization unscathed.

I should have known better.

When I moved to Fayetteville, one of the teams in my company was helping a client arrange a Red-Cockaded Woodpecker celebration. Really, a whole celebration just for this little bird. You see, the Army figured out that sometimes it had endangered species of plants and animals living on its posts. No, really. Shocking. And someone figured out that all of the stuff that the Army did to train could sometimes hurt the fragile ecosystem and cause these animals and plants to go from endangered to gone. As in extinct kind of gone. Now, the average soldier didn’t give a rat’s ass. But someone up the chain of command did. WWaaayy up the chain of command, like pentagon command. So Ft. Bragg did it’s part and shut down, modified, moved, and adapted training areas as to encourage the ‘comeback’ of this bird (heretofore referred to as RCW). And comeback it did. The conservation effort was a success, and the Army decided to have a self-congratulatory event to celebrate. All the people that had been involved in the effort were there. I was there representing our client from Aberdeen. And it was time for a meeting.

At this meeting were myself (the Defense Contractor), two representatives of the Fish & Wildlife Service, two guys from the post’s civilian offices to help plan the celebration, and the protocol secretary for the General of the famed XVIII Airborne Corps. The General would be master of ceremonies. One look at the protocol secretary, and I instantly knew the type of person she was. In a cheap suit with cheaper shoes, blah hair had a quiet demeanor, I just knew she had to be a junior officer’s wife. I also knew in my heart of hearts that she was the type of woman who quit the workforce when she had children. More power to her, I guess. Despite my impression, this woman was there in professional capacity representing a well-known general on Ft. Bragg, and I would treat her as such.

One of the two guys took the lead. He had obviously planned these sorts of events before and was upfront about what was needed, where we were at in the process, and other details. My job was to sit and listen and report back to my client. I had little to say, but made the right noises, when expected. And then ITHAPPENED! The moment I knew I would murder someone if given the chance. This man who had been speaking, turned to the protocol secretary and said, “Miss Rose, have the invitations….” WHAT THE HELL? MISS Rose, MISS? What year is it, 19 freaking 20? Did you miss the part where this woman was here in a professional capacity??!!

(Here is a side note: In a professional situation, regardless of martial status, no woman is EVER to be addressed as MISS. It is either Ms., ma’am, or the occasional Mrs. If the woman has a professional title such as Doctor, that always take precedence. Back to my rant.)

I could not tell you a single thing that was said in the meeting after that. First was my shock over his obvious faux pas, my amazement that the protocol secretary did not correct him, and the fact that no one else thought it strange. I wanted to yell at the woman, slap everyone upside the head, and then kill this misogynist male. AND HE KEPT DOING IT. OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I just knew that he was going to turn to me and call me Miss Amy. AND THEN IT WOULD BE ON! I would leap across the table, take a spoon, and gouge his eyes out for daring to treat me that way during a professional event. Why a spoon, you ask? Alan Rickman said it best: “Because it hurts more.”

I was poised, I was ready. And then…nothing. I had to sit there while this pig treated this secretary as a little sister that he had to tell what to do (NOT YOUR JOB ASSHOLE, IT’S HER JOB).

I got home and told everyone I knew this story. Apparently the only person upset was me, everyone else just justified it with “That’s the South for you” or “That’s the way you do things down there.” What-the-frick-ever. Never, ever, would I allow that. EVER.

I never saw those people again, the day of the RCW celebration was busy with VIPs and press. But I never forgot. But most of all I never accepted that this was the way things “were”. Little did I know that I had 3 more years to live in this place, and I already HATED it. It was a long 3 years.

1. why do I even have to point that out, anime is an art form- movies are a separate and DIFFERENT art form
2. You’re welcome.
3. Jason from Outnumbered disputes this assertion, but I don’t care, I know what side my bread is buttered on, and it’s buttered on the Maryland side. So there.
4. To some stupid audience member who complains that the music is too loud, again, I CANNOT make this shit up.
5. I’m pretty sure that’s the way Jews say I love you but I could be wrong.