It was a day for ironing out the kinks in one's past, apparently.
First the Fabulously Reverend Ted Haggard announced that he is "completely heterosexual." Mmm hmm. Anyone ever heard that one before?
And then our Dear Leader decided to send his Spokesliar, Tony Snow, out to defend his record on global warming. Snow said Bush has been talking about it since 2000. Yeah, talking about it as in "But it's not worth doing anything about (claps hands over ears, chants "layder layder layder")"
I feel like getting in on this Reformation thing. Let's see...Oh, yes, did I mention - I am always very patient? Well, starting today I am! Believe it!
Do you have anything to reform about yourself? Spill!
07 February 2007
ROFL again
Today is the big day to announce January's ROFL Awards, sponsored by Cristina of Mommy Off the Record and Izzy of IzzyMom.
My award goes to this post about making up Viagra slogans by Andrea of Little Bald Doctors. My favorite: "Can You See Me Now?"
I already linked to it from Linkateria, but when the awards came around, I knew it needed one.
I also laughed my butt off at some of Ree's posts about a gala dinner on Confessions of a Pioneer Woman, but I awarded her last month and didn't want to seem like too much of a sychophant psycho blog stalker.
My award goes to this post about making up Viagra slogans by Andrea of Little Bald Doctors. My favorite: "Can You See Me Now?"
I already linked to it from Linkateria, but when the awards came around, I knew it needed one.
I also laughed my butt off at some of Ree's posts about a gala dinner on Confessions of a Pioneer Woman, but I awarded her last month and didn't want to seem like too much of a sychophant psycho blog stalker.
06 February 2007
Top 10 Ways Reality TV Sucks
10. What not to wear: Clinton is ok but someone needs to slap Stacy. What a wench.
9. The Apprentice: More chances to view Donald Trump's hair. Do we need that?
8. The Bachelor - how romantic did THAT turn out to be? Some boffing in hot tubs and then a breakup two weeks later. How is that different from dating?
7. Fear Factor: if I wanted to watch people do disgusting things, I would have had children.
6. The SuperNanny and the Dog Whisperer need to get married and stop making the rest of us feel bad about how messed up our kids and pets are.
5. Top Chef - Sam could cook. Sam was hot. Sam was mature. What would have been so wrong with making Sam the Top Chef?
4. Survivor - The fact that I have never seen this show, but that I know all about the guy who walked around naked in the first season - why is this taking up real estate in my head?
3. The Real Life Bitches of Orange County - do these people need more encouragement to act shallow and stupid?
2. My Super Sweet Sicksteen - See #3. Except at an early age. One can only hope for a random meteorite to strike.
1. You tell me! What is your #1 reason reality TV sucks?
9. The Apprentice: More chances to view Donald Trump's hair. Do we need that?
8. The Bachelor - how romantic did THAT turn out to be? Some boffing in hot tubs and then a breakup two weeks later. How is that different from dating?
7. Fear Factor: if I wanted to watch people do disgusting things, I would have had children.
6. The SuperNanny and the Dog Whisperer need to get married and stop making the rest of us feel bad about how messed up our kids and pets are.
5. Top Chef - Sam could cook. Sam was hot. Sam was mature. What would have been so wrong with making Sam the Top Chef?
4. Survivor - The fact that I have never seen this show, but that I know all about the guy who walked around naked in the first season - why is this taking up real estate in my head?
3. The Real Life Bitches of Orange County - do these people need more encouragement to act shallow and stupid?
2. My Super Sweet Sicksteen - See #3. Except at an early age. One can only hope for a random meteorite to strike.
1. You tell me! What is your #1 reason reality TV sucks?
04 February 2007
Lovely things
I love me some Etsy. This site is like a huge mall of handcrafts. Not only is the site design among the cleverest I have ever seen (try shopping with the Time Machine 2 - so cool!) but there be treasures there.
Here are some of my favorites:
Pencils! Who woulda thunk that such pretty art could come from slicing up pencils? Jen Maestre is a wild woman with the pencils!
Ceramic jewelry that looks kind of rustic, from Block Party Press.
Rachel Austin's art uses recycled maps as a base. I love its whimsical look.
If you like dessert as much as I do, PukaShell's little creations will make your mouth water. How does she do it?
And then there's Project Grab Bag, turning old cans into pretty earrings.
These are just a few of my favorites among the thousands of Etsy shops. I may never have to buy a gift from the mall again.
Here are some of my favorites:
Pencils! Who woulda thunk that such pretty art could come from slicing up pencils? Jen Maestre is a wild woman with the pencils!
Ceramic jewelry that looks kind of rustic, from Block Party Press.
Rachel Austin's art uses recycled maps as a base. I love its whimsical look.
If you like dessert as much as I do, PukaShell's little creations will make your mouth water. How does she do it?
And then there's Project Grab Bag, turning old cans into pretty earrings.
These are just a few of my favorites among the thousands of Etsy shops. I may never have to buy a gift from the mall again.
03 February 2007
The bad student
I called to activate my new credit card today and ended up speaking to Sadguna Pohatkar, a helpful young woman from Mumbai. She was, she told me, very pleased that I had chosen to open an account with her company. Her voice conveyed her absolute pleasure in the rightness of my decision.
She confirmed my information and then had one very, very important piece of information to share with me about purchasing account protection in case of my involuntary release from work, serious illness, accident or dismemberment.
Normally I don't listen to sales pitches, instead politely declining right at the beginning. But she was so enthusiastic and so cheerful that it made me pause just long enough, and then she was off and running and unstoppable.
She read her script with such conviction and caring that for a moment, I almost believed that paying 79 cents a month for every hundred dollars I charged would solve all my life's problems and make me, for once, truly happy. She either really believed this stuff, or she was a brilliant actress.
She spoke for a long time, maybe 3 minutes, explaining all the legalities of the buyer protection plan. I was lulled into a dreamy, passive state by her sweet, lilting voice. She spoke perfect English, but with just enough of an accent to seem exotic and mysterious.
At the end of the pitch, I felt a little bad saying "No, thank you."
Ah, Miss Pohatkar thought I might say that, and she was very disappointed in me. I could tell from her voice, which changed to the tone of a caring teacher who had worked hard to help a slow, lazy student, but the student refused to learn.
But she still had faith in me. As soon as I truly understood all the wonderful benefits bestowed by the buyer protection, the perfect peace of mind, the safety that would be afforded to me and my loved ones, she was sure I would change my mind.
"Knowing all that, would you like to now purchase this protection plan with all it has to offer?"
"No, thank you."
Oooh. Now I had really, really done wrong. The love between us was lost.
"And may I ask what is the reason you have chosen to decline such a comprehensive and beneficial plan?" Miss Pohatkar had an edge of ice in her voice.
I knew that this was a crucial juncture. If I cracked now, I would give Miss Pohatkar an opening to use one of the dozen persuasive arguments in her database designed to cover every possible objection.
"Um...no. I just wanted to activate my card."
Oooh. That did it. Her voice turned flat.
"Well, Miss Davis, that certainly has been done and we do appreciate your business very much and I wish you a very good day."
"Thank you, Miss Poh---"
She hung up on me.
She confirmed my information and then had one very, very important piece of information to share with me about purchasing account protection in case of my involuntary release from work, serious illness, accident or dismemberment.
Normally I don't listen to sales pitches, instead politely declining right at the beginning. But she was so enthusiastic and so cheerful that it made me pause just long enough, and then she was off and running and unstoppable.
She read her script with such conviction and caring that for a moment, I almost believed that paying 79 cents a month for every hundred dollars I charged would solve all my life's problems and make me, for once, truly happy. She either really believed this stuff, or she was a brilliant actress.
She spoke for a long time, maybe 3 minutes, explaining all the legalities of the buyer protection plan. I was lulled into a dreamy, passive state by her sweet, lilting voice. She spoke perfect English, but with just enough of an accent to seem exotic and mysterious.
At the end of the pitch, I felt a little bad saying "No, thank you."
Ah, Miss Pohatkar thought I might say that, and she was very disappointed in me. I could tell from her voice, which changed to the tone of a caring teacher who had worked hard to help a slow, lazy student, but the student refused to learn.
But she still had faith in me. As soon as I truly understood all the wonderful benefits bestowed by the buyer protection, the perfect peace of mind, the safety that would be afforded to me and my loved ones, she was sure I would change my mind.
"Knowing all that, would you like to now purchase this protection plan with all it has to offer?"
"No, thank you."
Oooh. Now I had really, really done wrong. The love between us was lost.
"And may I ask what is the reason you have chosen to decline such a comprehensive and beneficial plan?" Miss Pohatkar had an edge of ice in her voice.
I knew that this was a crucial juncture. If I cracked now, I would give Miss Pohatkar an opening to use one of the dozen persuasive arguments in her database designed to cover every possible objection.
"Um...no. I just wanted to activate my card."
Oooh. That did it. Her voice turned flat.
"Well, Miss Davis, that certainly has been done and we do appreciate your business very much and I wish you a very good day."
"Thank you, Miss Poh---"
She hung up on me.
02 February 2007
The Saturday Whine
I got a jury duty summons. Right. You go, do your one day stint, come home for dinner. And it's not like I don't want to do it. I am one of those crazy Pollyannas who think it is actually my civic duty to make sure people get a fair trial with a jury of their peers. A cornerstone of democracy. Silly stuff like that.
But it isn't an ordinary jury summons. It's a federal jury summons.
The federal court is 65 miles away through some of the hairiest, slowest, most maddening, pull-me-through-a-knothole traffic on earth. Los Angeles Federal Court, building, baby, right in the heart of it, where brave men fear to tread. Or drive. Whatever.
We report at 7:45 a.m.
If I lived 15 miles further, say, up in Mrs. Kennedy's neighborhood, the court would reimbursement $100 per night for a hotel. But since I am a mere 65 miles - about 3 hours in morning traffic, depending - away, I get NOTHING.
Thank you very much.
The best part? I am on call for 30 days. During a period that coincides exactly with my manager's husband undergoing a dangerous and difficult medical procedure that requires her absence. Did I mention I am #2 in charge? And that there are only 5 of us?
(banging head on table)
I am going to beg for a postponement at the very least so I don't give my manager a heart attack in addition to her husband's medical problems. And maybe move in with Mrs K for a while, so I can get the hotel reimbursement. Somebody warn her for me, willya?
But it isn't an ordinary jury summons. It's a federal jury summons.
The federal court is 65 miles away through some of the hairiest, slowest, most maddening, pull-me-through-a-knothole traffic on earth. Los Angeles Federal Court, building, baby, right in the heart of it, where brave men fear to tread. Or drive. Whatever.
We report at 7:45 a.m.
If I lived 15 miles further, say, up in Mrs. Kennedy's neighborhood, the court would reimbursement $100 per night for a hotel. But since I am a mere 65 miles - about 3 hours in morning traffic, depending - away, I get NOTHING.
Thank you very much.
The best part? I am on call for 30 days. During a period that coincides exactly with my manager's husband undergoing a dangerous and difficult medical procedure that requires her absence. Did I mention I am #2 in charge? And that there are only 5 of us?
(banging head on table)
I am going to beg for a postponement at the very least so I don't give my manager a heart attack in addition to her husband's medical problems. And maybe move in with Mrs K for a while, so I can get the hotel reimbursement. Somebody warn her for me, willya?
01 February 2007
In case you were feeling bad about yourself
Just when I think the world can't possibly get any weirder, there's this story from the NY Times (reg required, just do it!).
Let me summarize: 29-year-old dude goes around pretending he is 12 years old. Why? Because he is a child molester, and what better way to get to hang around young boys?
Ok, that's weird. But now to kick it up a notch (as Emeril would say). Dude moves in with two other child molester dudes, Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow, and convinces THEM he is underage, so they are totally happy to let him live with them, so they can "molest" him - not knowing he is actually a legal adult.
But here is my favorite part, and I quote:
The authorities said Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow were shocked, too, and angry about being duped by an adult posing as a minor.
The two molester dudes were angry because they thought they were molesting a child, but they actually weren't, so, what, they felt used??? Arrrrrrrrrgggggg.
I don't think they have much room to get on their moral high horse here. In fact, this may have been a perfect opportunity for them to haul out that tried and true phrase despised by journalists everywhere: "No comment."
*******
Does anyone else hate the Blog Exchange? I get all confused about who is posting and it makes my head hurt. I'm always reading them, thinking "Hey, she doesn't have a teenaged daughter! She has toddlers?!" and then trying to figure out how I missed the teenaged daughter all this time, until I get to the bottom where they announce this is a freaking blog exchange.
Do me a favor, next time - announce the exchange dealie AT THE TOP, please. I am already confused enough as is.
Let me summarize: 29-year-old dude goes around pretending he is 12 years old. Why? Because he is a child molester, and what better way to get to hang around young boys?
Ok, that's weird. But now to kick it up a notch (as Emeril would say). Dude moves in with two other child molester dudes, Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow, and convinces THEM he is underage, so they are totally happy to let him live with them, so they can "molest" him - not knowing he is actually a legal adult.
But here is my favorite part, and I quote:
The authorities said Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow were shocked, too, and angry about being duped by an adult posing as a minor.
The two molester dudes were angry because they thought they were molesting a child, but they actually weren't, so, what, they felt used??? Arrrrrrrrrgggggg.
I don't think they have much room to get on their moral high horse here. In fact, this may have been a perfect opportunity for them to haul out that tried and true phrase despised by journalists everywhere: "No comment."
*******
Does anyone else hate the Blog Exchange? I get all confused about who is posting and it makes my head hurt. I'm always reading them, thinking "Hey, she doesn't have a teenaged daughter! She has toddlers?!" and then trying to figure out how I missed the teenaged daughter all this time, until I get to the bottom where they announce this is a freaking blog exchange.
Do me a favor, next time - announce the exchange dealie AT THE TOP, please. I am already confused enough as is.
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