Pubic Enemy

I went to use the restroom today and received a sight that gave me the heebie jeebies: a stray pubic hair on the toilet seat.

Now, I know that not everyone uses a toilet seat cover, even when they are available (which they are not, unfortunately, in this building bathroom). I also know that we all cannot control the shedding of body hair, regardless of body parts or areas. But really: am I the only one who looks behind herself after relieving herself? You know, on the chance that there are sprinkles on the seat (when you have to "hover" due to no toilet seat covers and/or an urgent need to go) or to make sure that nothing happened to fall out of your pocket and into the toilet (in which case, I'd just take an "L" on said item)? Or maybe that one of my own stray pubic hairs fell out?

Pubic hair just brings to mind urban legends about catching herpes from toilet seats, or some other infection that modern medicine hasn't managed to cure yet. I have nightmares of going home and having the skin on my nether regions flake off, pus up, or otherwise give me lots of pain and suffering...all because I didn't take the time to lay down strips of toilet paper to make a makeshift seat cover (like my Grandma taught me, may she RIP). And you know what likes to hang out on pubic hairs? Pubic lice (better known as "crabs")! The last thing I need is for some hitchhiker to follow me home 'cause some nasty chick opened her legs to the wrong dude (or another female, depending on how she flowed. No pun intended.).

(hey...I used to work at Planned Parenthood clinics in the Washington, DC area. Oh, the things I could tell you...)

All I ask is for a little courtesy. If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie. If your pubes have gone astray, wipe it off the seat and it'll be okay. That's all I'm saying.

I need to run to the store and get a can of Lysol.


Thanks for stopping by.

From the Commuter Files: Fraud is just a helping hand away

In previous posts, I've mentioned the general bootleggedness of the area commuter public transit system. Well, it's being taken to another level.

Like a lot of people these days, I hardly carry cash and prefer to do my financial transactions electronically. When there was an actual customer service building, I would use my debit card to buy my monthly pass. On the passenger bus, there is no such amenity and passengers are forced to come up with greenbacks (or multi-color backs, these days) and feed them into the fare box, which has been programmed for such purchases.

(BOOTLEG!! I cannot make this stuff up)

Anywho...yesterday morning, I overheard the "customer service" guy tell another plastic-loving passenger that he can buy his passes online and just bring the receipt, and he could pick up his purchased pass on the passenger bus instead of waiting for it to come in the mail. My ears perked up like a hound dog on point and I inwardly rejoiced. No more hustling to get to an ATM (and praying that it was my bank's ATM, lest I be jacked for a $3.00 non-customer fee on each end. But I digress.).

I went online and purchased my pass (they use PayPal! Who knew? GLORY!), printed out my receipt, and took it to the passenger bus on the way home. I just knew that purchased pass power was moments away from being mine.

Uh...no.

I give my printed receipt to customer service chick, who is speaking with one of the dispatchers, who was busy tying a plastic bag on her head--doo rag style--since it was raining outside. [I. CANNOT. MAKE. THIS. STUFF. UP.] She looks askance at me and the drama begins:

SHE: "Did you purchase this today?"
ME: "Yes, about an hour ago" (I point to the date stamp at the bottom of the printed page)
SHE: (calling customer service and asking them to find the record) "Are you sure you bought it today?"
ME: "Yes."
SHE (listening to customer service): "You sure your name isn't Jennifer Daniels*?"
ME: (giving her a fierce side eye): "I'm quite sure."

Finally, she must have gotten the okay from Customer Service because she gives me my pass--and the receipt--and informs me that I should call them after I make a purchase, to make sure the purchased pass is held instead of mailed. I informed her that the morning customer service guy didn't mention anything about calling, and there was no option to choose pickup over mailing on the website. Then she tells me, "Well, you can also use your credit card to buy it here. The credit card machine in the building is up and running, and you can just tell me your credit card number, and I'll tell the girl in the building, and she'll run it that way."

I could only stare at her in shock. She was stating that I should just call out my credit or debit card number--aloud--for the free world to hear. She would then relay this information--in public, since privacy ain't too big on their list of priorities--to someone via her personal cell phone ('cause the company doesn't provide them for employees). And, since the numbers would have to be punched in by the customer service person manning the credit card machine, the odds of my card being declined OR me being charged an insane amount of money because she punched in the wrong number (s) were extremely high.

I might as well just write my bank account number on a bathroom wall. Naw, I'll just make an ATM withdrawal and pass out money to other passengers.

This company must seriously not care about its public image: from jury-rigged passenger "facilities" (did I mention that if you have to use the restroom, you have to use one of the two Port-a-Pottys set up nearby? BOOTLEG!) to improper planning to customer service people who are obviously dim points of light. Perception is reality, and the perception is that this company couldn't find its corporate butt with a map and a flashlight.

I miss the NY Metro System (NYC), Metrorail/Metrobus (Washington, DC) and BART (Bay Area, CA).

Thanks for stopping by.




*can't be putting my government name on the 'net.

Mercury: It's not just for thermometers anymore

The corn industry took a hit to their "we're not trying to poison you with corn syrup sweeteners" campaign today. Word on the curb is that while it's lovely that corn syrup is all natural and is fine in moderation (*snicker*), it now contains another, more serious threat: mercury.

Yes, that mercury. You know, that silvery stuff that used to be in old-school, non-digital thermometers. The metal that is toxic when ingested, leading to nerve system damage, among other things. Yeah, that one.

To add insult to (ha!) injury, quite a few popular, brand-name products contain the mercury-tainted corn syrup, which means that chances are, you are slowly poisoning yourself with every bite.

Let's hear it for uncomfort(able) food!

Given the rise in food prices at regular grocery stores, it's now seeming like a good idea to shop at stores like Whole Foods; there's not much of a price difference anymore, and you can be assured that the food doesn't contain any icky surprises, like growth hormones (which I blame for how developed kids are these days) or toxic metals.

I found some tips on Sparkpeople.com that can help you reduce purchase of the amount of foods that may contain mercury. Give it a try.

Of course, it hurt my heart to see that three of my favorites--Dr. Pepper, Coke Classic, and Heinz--are on the list of foods that were tested for mercury-laden high-fructose corn syrup, but hey...we all gotta go sometime. I'm going happy. You can do what you want; that's between you and your god(s).

Thanks for stopping by.

Infancy irrelevance

The latest "gotta have" for the upper-class baby crew: A Beaba Babycook.

What is this, you might ask? Well basically, it's an upscale food processor. The BB's claim to fame is that it not only purees the food, but it cooks it too! It steam cooks foods for 15 minutes to preserve nutrients and flavors, then purees it so that you have baby food.

Okay. Work with me for a minute.

Now I have neither chick nor child, but even I could figure out that the whole baby food thing was a scam to get more money out of parents. Read the labels, y'all: there is nothing in a basic jar of Gerber but pureed food and some vitamin E to keep it from going bad on the store shelves. What you are paying for is the Gerber (or whomever) name, and the glass jars in which the food is packaged. Money can be saved if you just cook the food yourself and run it through a food processor (or blender) before feeding it to the baby. And this doesn't really apply to softer foods, as babies have gums (which are kinda hard, if you've ever felt them) and they can mash food up themselves for optimal digestion in their little tummies.

I don' t really get the hype. Oh wait a minute, yes I do: the Beaba Babycook is the hotness in EUROPE! Of course! Us gauche Americans HAVE to get it, so that we don't seem so bass ackward! What was I thinking?

(Give. Me. A. Break.)


Those who are so inclined already have a food processor and if you don't--and you play your cards right--you can get them rather inexpensively. Some already have a steamer contraption, if they don't know how to steam veggies right on their stovetop. Most people at least have a blender (the better to make health drinks, my dear). So the practical reasoning behind purchasing a BB eludes me, especially since we're in a recession (Beaba Babycook retails for the low, low price of $149.95. Seriously.).

But the Beaba Babycook wants you to just cook for the child separately! It's better for them, no pesky adult germs to make it ill (I can understand washing baby clothes separately, but not cooking meals!). Maybe I'm a bit biased because even as a small child, I ate what everyone else ate, and my immune system is quite strong. Even as an infant who was in the Gerber stage, I was given small amounts of adult food that was mashed up as necessary...with the back of a spoon. Seriously. There were no food processors in the house, and even though Gerber was way cheaper in the 1970s than it is now, buying jars and jars of baby food was never a practice that became the norm for the babies in our family. Neither was bending over backwards to make purees of food.

The major selling point of the Beaba Babycook is that it's a timesaver; perfect for that corporate mom who juggles her Blackberry along with baby's bottle, or for that nanny who works for corporate mom. Call me crazy, but when one usually has a child, one tends to make time for those pesky little tasks like...oh...cooking for them! Especially when you are already making dinner for the entire family; setting aside a bit for John or Jane and making sure that the meal is cut small enough not to choke them, and isn't too hard for their gums, isn't really rocket science.

Then again, I was raised differently.

Needless to say, Williams-Sonoma and the other places that sell the BB will more than likely sell out; it's trendy, like Baby Einstein DVDs. And how else can you show yourself to be the cool mom on the block with superior parenting skills, if you don't buy a BB? The reviews I've read thus far on the product rave about it (4.8 out of 5 stars), but they give me the creeps. They have a Stepford Wife quality about them, and I half expected the Whole Foods Police to stop and give out certificates of achievement. I'm all for feeding kids healthier foods, limiting environmental waste, and what have you, but folks need to do it because they care for their children--not because of some maternal one-upsmanship.

Thanks for stopping by.

I'm not crazy; I'm just a little unwell

Attention, K-Mart shoppers! And Nordstrom shoppers. And Macy's shoppers. And Marks & Sparks, H&M, and Harrod's shoppers (for my international heads).

You no longer have to feel guilty about maxing out your credit cards, spending your grocery/gas/rent or mortgage/utility money on clothes, shoes, jewelry, and the like. You don't have to feel ashamed of taking full advantage of all the deep sales that are being advertised in an effort to boost the sickly bottom lines of retail stores.

Why, you may ask? Because it's not your fault! Not really, anyway. You're a shopaholic, and guess what--it's a real illness!

Yes, folks...psychiatrists in Germany have determined that shopaholism is a "subset of obsessive-compulsive disorder" (OCD) and therefore a real illness. The United States isn't there yet, but don't fret: word on the curb is that the DSM-V (the bible of the psychiatric and psychological communities) is being put together, so shopaholism may actually get in there.

(They are really spinning this thing into another gravitational field.)

Seriously, though: Eugene Bleuler and Emil Kraepelin, who both studied under Sigmund Freud himself, came up with the term "oniomania" back in the 1900s; it refers to those "obsessed with making purchases." Bleuler even considered shopaholism (or onomania) as being related to kleptomania (the affliction of the five-finger discount).

And how does this help you and your life?

Well, next time the credit card folks come a-callin', you can tell them that you are suffering from a documented medical condition (you don't have to tell them WHERE it's been documented); there is probably a law out there that you can use (maybe the Americans with Disabilities Act) to shield yourself from harrassment, etc. You may even be able to parlay this into some extra sick time at work, or maybe stave off a layoff.

You can also attempt to enroll in a clinical trial for shopaholism, though at the time there is a lack of government funding for it (gee, I wonder why).

I'm sure there is a lawyer somewhere who is already figuring out a defense angle. But remember: if the debt don't fit, you must acquit!

Thanks for stopping by.

Do you want curry to go with that shake?

I do love the news; it gives a whole new meaning to "truth is stranger than fiction."

Apparently, outsourcing is not just for IT anymore. Jack-in-the-Box, a popular fast food chain based in San Diego, CA, is doing a test run to outsource its drive-through orders.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Basically, if you happen to be in Charlotte, NC and have a hankering for a Big Jack hamburger, you can pull up to the drive-thru window and give your order. However, there is no guarantee that there will be some bored-looking person waiting on the other end of the oversized headset, barking your order to the person manning the grill and fries. Nope, your order will probably be bounced via satellite to India, where someone with a fake American name (like "Biff") will take your order instead, then bounce it back to the restaurant.

Let me know when this starts making sense, 'cause I haven't figured it out yet.

The Jack-in-the-Box folks state that "The technology is intended to improve speed, accuracy and service, freeing up restaurant employees to process orders, accept payment and address other needs."

I had to reread that a couple of times, because I still don't get it.

Let me get this straight: paying millions of dollars to implement a system that sends my humble order for a value meal across an ocean, processed by someone for whom English is not their primary language, only to have that same order bounced back across that same ocean to be prepared and bagged by people who are actually physically in the restaurant, and who could (and usually would) take the order in the first place.

(and before you even go there: yes, there are quite a few people working in the fast food industry for whom English is not their primary language, but at least they are HERE. And don't sleep: they understand plenty of English; they just choose not to speak it.).

Yeah. That really speeds things up, and makes it accurate too.

Come on, y'all. The registers at McDonald's now have pictures on them, in an effort to reduce the language barrier. And it's not like restaurant workers seem to be all that busy outside of the breakfast and lunch rushes during the week; why do you think that some restaurants have implemented the "no cell phones at the registers" rule? Or maybe that was just in Brooklyn, NY. As for accuracy, isn't that what those Matrix-looking LCD monitors are for? And why there are managers on duty, to help clean up the errors?

This call-center technology has not been proven to save time and/or money (according to Mickey D's and Wendy's), which is why Burger King and Taco Bell have opted to leave it alone (Let's hear it for common sense!). However, Jack-in-the-Box will continue to test this system once they finish their Charlotte run.

Long live the King, and the Chalupa, too.

Thanks for stopping by.

These boots are made for walkin'...

Okay...I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this, so forgive me if I'm not as articulate as usual.

The government of Iceland just quit. As in, they rolled out. Raised up. Got the hell on.

WTF?!

Apparently, the party in charge--the Independence Party--did not work well with the rival Social Democrat party. The SDs wanted to run the whole shebang, but the IP wasn't having it. So the IP--in the guise of the prime minister of Iceland, Geir Haarde--said to hell with it and just resigned his whole Cabinet.

Well, dayum.

The burning question in my non-Icelandic mind is: if there is no government, then who's running the country?

No, the concurrent burning question is: how do you RESIGN an entire government? That's on par with suddenly declaring that Pluto is no longer a planet (I'm still bitter about that, by the way).

I mean, like most governments, they control certain operations of a country: economy, judicial system, and the military. So...no goverment means...the vault doors are open ,as well as the jail doors? Can you just invade the country, since no one is really running the military? Likewise, can the military just run off and shoot whomever they feel like because they're not being held accountable?

I've heard of anarchy, but this kinda takes it to a whole 'nother level.

Granted, Iceland's economy is about as bad as ours over here in the USA, but still...our government hasn't quit. It's not in our Constitution (no pun intended). Plus, if a president ever decided to quit, the bloodbath that would occur over the mass exodus by the Democratic and Republican parties (not to mention Ralph Nader and his crew) to try and fill the seats with their cronies would be just ugly. The trail of broken bodies leading to Cabinet seats would be worthy of a Tarantino flick. That would be some reality TV for your assets.

I need a donut.

Thanks for stopping by.

VH1: Not just for videos anymore

My latest guilty pleasures come via VH1, which is usually known for nonstop music videos (like MTV for the older folks). But in recent years they've added some reality shows that are actually quite entertaining.

As noted in previous posts, I'm digging Tool Academy. They aired a new episode today and I wasn't surprised at the guy who got booted. I never saw him becoming a non-tool at this stage in his life; he confessed to such during the group therapy session with the girlfriends, and that was a contributing factor in his being cut from the show. The remaining couples are actually rather good, and there are three that I can see going the distance--barring any craziness: Mega and Margo, Matsuflex and Jenna, and Shawn and Aida. Josh and Ashley may get it in, but they get kind of shaky sometimes.

Anyway...I find the show not only entertaining, but it's helping me face up to some stuff and finally put it to rest. I'm not sure if this speaks to arrested development on my part or on the part of the guys I've dated (I hesitate to use the term "men" as they've been that in chronological age, only), but I'll take revelation and resolution however I can get it.

My next favorite is Confessions of a Teen Idol. Hosted by Chachi himself (Scott Baio), I like following these guys whom I used to swoon over as a teenager (back when I was buying Tiger Beat and Right On! magazines). I admit to being more partial to the older guys in the house (Christopher Atkins, Billy Hufsey and Adrian Zmed), as well as Jamie Wright (one of the younger ones) because they seem to be more stable and accepting of their fall from previous glory and have adjusted the most to being an everyday person. I also like this show because it's not a typical reality show in that someone gets booted every week; it's about people really facing their demons and trying to work it out and work it through.

Another show that's interesting is Sober House. This show follows people from Dr. Drew's Celebrity Rehab as they now live in a sober house, which is a halfway house so that they can adjust to sobriety in an everyday setting before they get sent out into the world on their own, with only themselves to rely on. This show has a special poignance with me because both of my parents are addicts (my father is in recovery), and I experienced and observed many of the behaviors they talk about on the show.

I tune in once in a while to Rock Bus of Love with Bret Michaels. This show is the most...intriguing because it seems like every former porn star or stripper signed on for this show, in an attempt to get down with Bret Michaels (who has managed to parlay his fame as frontman for the group Poison into a solo career; then again, he always had singing talent. And I love his eyes!). I mean, I have never seen so much silicone in my life. Apparently, having at least a DD bra cup and a fondness for skimpy clothing was a prerequisite to get on the show. Then again, that seems to be the dress code for the rock music world, so hey...whatever works. It's like watching a car wreck: terrible, but you can't turn your eyes away.

On re-reading this entry before posting, it seems like VH1 is acting as a surrogate therapist. Any port in a storm!

Thanks for stopping by.

The Way We Were

After almost a year-long hiatus, I was encouraged (read: nagged to distraction) by a former classmate to re-up, since a whole bunch of folks from my alma mater had found their way to a very popular social network, which is basically Internet crack. The catalyst was seeing someone on the Food Network who looked awfully like a guy who graduated a couple of years ahead of me; upon receiving confirmation that it was indeed him, I was informed that if I were back on this site, I would know of things like this. So I reactivated.

I received some surprising welcomes, from GU folks and sorors and frat alike; didn't know that I was missed that much (and yes, ran down my cell phone battery on catch-up phone calls)! Then I went through the GU crew. Months ago, there were only a handful of us (from the era that mattered: 1991-95); now, we've multiplied like project roaches. The faces I saw brought back a lot of memories: many good, some bad, and one that took me under for quite some time.

Speaking of the latter: let me just get it off my chest. I loved him, it ended badly, and he's now married. And you know, for the first time in a long time, I can look at his picture and no longer feel anything but a "Hey! There's _____!" Well, whaddya know?". I actually feel sorry for his wife because unless he did a complete 180 and got some major shrinkage, she's got two handfuls to deal with. You go, girl.

Now back to my happy feelings.

I clicked on a few profiles and I'm glad to see that a lot of my former classmates have found their niche in the world. They look happy, or at least content. And in this world, that's saying something.

But since this is a new year, I did go through my friend list and do some purging. Some people were sorors and frat whom I met during some Blue and White event or another; I don't give passes to those in my world who are non-Greek, so I'm not going to give much of one to those who are. If you haven't even attempted to keep in touch with me offline over the past year, you got jettisoned. I removed myself from groups which sounded good at the time, but which no longer serve. It's all about progress.

Bottom line, it's good to be back in touch with GU people. Those were some of the best years of my life and if I had to do it all over again, I would. I'm feeling so warm and fuzzy right now, that I may actually attend my first GU homecoming in the fall; I think it's my class's year, anyway.

On second thought...I'm not feelingTHAT warm and fuzzy.

Thanks for stopping by.

Don't walk away mad; just walk away. Please.

Two recent events have had me reaching for a bottle of B**ch Be Gone.

The first was the hissy fit thrown by the Black Artists Association. Why? Because Michelle Obama did not wear any clothes by black designers during the inauguration events. Apparently, black designers (via their spokesperson, Amnau Eele) felt that since First Lady Obama wore outfits by a Latina designer and an Asian designer, there should have been some pepper up in that multiculti stew.

(Hmm...I wonder if Eele tried to get her designs showcased during the inauguration, and got shut out like her name was Beyonce? Paging Bitter, party of one.)

As a black person, I take offense to the sentiment that we have to support our kind all the time. Yes, I know all about uplifting the race, pulling up those behind you once you've arrived, etc., etc. I read The Souls of Black Folks too, and I'm familiar with W.E.B. DuBois's theories on the Talented Tenth. But dang...the Obamas are the highest-ranking black folks in the free world at this point. All eyes are on them, and there are those who are just waiting for President Obama to turn his time in office into a free-for-all for those of African descent (I mean, his Cabinet and Executive Staff are STACKED with black folks, although a lot of them are on some pas blanc ish. But that's a whole 'nother story.). Likewise, Michelle Obama can't turn her pivotal role as First Lady into a "this is for my homies" and giving every black person an automatic hookup. Also, she ain't been in office but a minute. Give her time; she has FOUR YEARS to showcase some more up-and-coming talent. If one truly has the skills and--dare I say--the proper customer service skills and demeanor (read: NO ATTITUDE), then one will get one's chance, regardless of color. Eele needs to fall back and take a Valium or something.

The second is Caribou Barbie herself, Sarah Palin. Word on the curb this morning is that she's shopping for a book deal about HER side of her (thankfully) failed run for Vice President of the United States, and she wants $11 million for her brain droppings.

Jesus be a steel-lined vault.

This chick is like herpes; she will NOT go away and her flare-ups are often painful, but can be controlled with medication (like ignoring her, or drinking). She is trying so hard to stay relevant, it's almost pitiful to watch. But I wouldn't discount the possibility of getting her a book deal. Ann Coulter, who has to be one of the most unhinged people on the planet, managed to stay in the spotlight (albeit a quarantined one) with her asinine statements--and she ended up publishing quite a few books that actually sold.

In a way, I feel sorry for her; McCain gave her a taste of power and now that ol' girl took it to the head and got her buzz on, she's seeking another, more bountiful source. Maybe she should holler at her homies in Russia; after all, she can see them from her front porch. At this rate, though, I won't be surprised to see her get her own show a la Bill Hannity and his ilk, or even a radio show (Howard Stern ain't got nothing on Palin! She'd take shock jocking to a whole 'nother level).

Actually, I'd like to see her and the rest of the Palins on The Learning Channel. They could have a show called Growing Up Palin, somewhere along the lines of that show about the Duggars (you know...the people with 17 children and counting). That would be interesting, but unfortunately not enough exposure for Mrs. Palin. Plus, it's The LEARNING Channel, and we all know how Palin feels about smart people and learning. Wouldn't want her to become elitist and palling around with terrorists and all.

Either way, I wish Eele and Palin would both have a nice, tall glass of STFU and fade gently into that good night...but it's not happening. Oh well; I can dream.

Thanks for stopping by.

Schooled by the Tool Academy

While flipping channels, I came across Tool Academy, the latest VH1 reality show. And unexpectedly got schooled.

The Tool Academy is hilarious yet sincere: it brings together nine guys, in their early 20s, who were deemed by their girlfriends to be some of the biggest arses (or "tools") walking. You know: flirting with everything with two (preferably exposed) breasts, lying, obnoxious behavior, trying to show they're the manliest man around. Under the guise of some sort of popularity contest, the guys are enrolled in Tool Academy in a last-ditch attempt to get them to get right. They live group-style in a house for 30 days, and their girlfriends live in a nearby villa and are integral parts of the show. Each episode is centered around a theme (like "infidelity" or "humility") and the guys have to complete certain tasks in order to earn a merit badge and advance to the next round. The guys who get booted are deemed to be "just a tool"--and somewhat unredeemable--and it's up to their girlfriends to determine if the relationship can continue past the failed Academy stage.

It's like the Boy Scouts meet couple's therapy (and therapy is a large part of this show and includes the couples, not just the guys by themselves. The point is for the guys to see up front, and through impartial eyes, how their behavior hurts their partners).

The episode I keyed into today happened to be "Infidelity". Things happen for a reason, because infidelity in relationships is one of my major issues (as the cheatee, not the cheater). One of the main parts of the show was when the guys were sent to be styled by professional makeup artists, whose secret mission was to flirt with the guys and attempt to hook up with them. These sessions were taped and played back during the group therapy sessions--much to the surprise of the Tools and their girlfriends. The surprises were mostly positive in the fact that the men did not take the bait to hook up with the makeup artists--and their girlfriends were surprised because they expected their man to fall for it. Some of the surprises were...not; the men expected just as their girlfriends expected them to, and sometimes this went even beyond expected behavior (like when one guy's longtime girlfriend of six years shows up unexpectedly to group therapy, and forced the Tool to boot the girlfriend that was already on the show off---to make room for the longtime girl).

Anyway...watching that group therapy session, and the secretly taped sessions, and the reactions of both the girlfriends and the Tools, brought back a lot of emotions and memories that I thought I had worked through and got over.

Ha.

My very first boyfriend left me for someone I thought was a friend. My second boyfriend (a year later), who also happened to be the person to whom I lost my virginity, cheated on me with his immediate past ex. Add all this on top of my father drama and yes...I have a magazine rack full of issues with men (or rather, with those of the XY-chromosome persuasion).

Watching those guys just smacked me in the face with all of the lines I've heard (and have fallen for, even in my 30s). Their behavior ripped the still-forming scab off that tender part of my heart (and here I thought the scab had already formed, falling out, and the skin had gotten tougher. Ha.). Watching those girls cry when faced with the very tangible proof of their man's doggish ways felt like someone jumped on that tender part with stiletto heels--repeatedly. And, on the flip side, seeing the girls's reactions to their man's responses--even the positive ones--made me realize not only how I used to contribute to my relationship issues, but also how far I've come. And how far I have yet to go.

Every feeling of not feeling good enough, pretty enough, tall enough, smart enough came rushing back. And yes, I actually cried during part of the show, and even while writing this blog entry. I'm reminded of something I heard in a Juanita Bynum sermon (this was before her fall from grace and all that drama with her ex). She said that there will be parts of you and your mate that will never truly heal, and it's important for you to accept that. This may be mine.

I've had my share of shrinkage. I know--logically--that I'm very intelligent, and I've accomplished a lot during my time on this earth, and there is more that I still have to do. I've made mistakes, and not-so-smart choices, but I'm still standing. I know that I have a lot to offer someone in a relationship. But inside, my inner child is still quick to run in a corner and suck her thumb. And she is who I have to work with.

They say that things always happen for a reason, and The Creator makes no mistakes. There was a reason for me to be flipping channels and come across Tool Academy today, and watch this particular episode. It reminds me that I have a lot of inner work to still do, which may be why I am still single. Perhaps, at this time, I need to be.

Thanks for stopping by.

Life Lesson from a Plant

On my new job, there are a bunch of plants in my office space, which I love. Unfortunately, the office was closed for about a week and a half (before I started here) for the Christmas and New Year holidays and the plants didn't get watered. When I started, I plucked off the dead leaves and gave them all a good watering.

One plant in particular concerned me. It is a pothos plant, also known as a "bachelor plant". You know...one of those plants that grow and grow and grow with little effort, forming long, trailing vines if they're not pruned.

Anywho...this little plant was wilted beyond measure. When I felt the leaves, they were still firm (though wilted), and the leaves were still very green with no signs of drying...so I figured the plant could still be saved. I gave it a lot of water and figured that if it perked up in a day or so, it would be good to go. I've revived the same type of plant in this fashion before, so it would work again.

Tuesday came...still wilted.

Wednesday...still wilted. I figured that f it was still wilted by the next day, it may be unsalvageable.

On Thursday, it was still wilted and I had resigned myself to the probability that the plant would have to be trashed.

Today...half of the leaves on the plant have completely perked up to their regular state. Not only that, but there are two (count 'em) brand-new leaves that were not there on Monday, and a third that is just budding. Seems like I did something right after all.

Hmm. Just goes to show that just because something doesn't seem to be growing or responding to your efforts, doesn' t mean that your efforts aren't working. Eventually, they'll pay off...and usually when you least expect it. So don't give up.

Never underestimate the teaching power of a plant.

Thanks for stopping by.

Win a Book: Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand

I first received a copy of Kitty and the Midnight Hour by Carrie Vaughn at the 2005 (?) Book Expo of America. I was hooked and impatiently waited for the next installment.

Fast foward 4 (or 5) years later and Kitty Norville (by virtue of Ms. Vaughn) is still going strong. Her latest book, Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand, is due for release on January 17, 2009. To follow is Kitty Raises Hell.

If you are a fantasy/sci-fi fan and like a little quirk with your novels, then this is a series for you.

Check out reviews of the Kitty Norville series, an interview with Carrie Vaughn, and enter a contest to receive a FREE copy of Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand by visiting Bitten by Books.

Make sure to tell a friend. Reading is fundamental, and a mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Thanks for stopping by.

From the Commuter Files: The Art of the Bogart

Y'all, I know it's relatively early for a blog from me (especially on a weekday), but I had to get this off my chest.

This morning, I'm on the "Wait Bus", waiting for my bus to arrive.

(yes, this transit agency has passengers waiting on a bus--which is BEYOND bootleg--because the actual wait room/customer service center is still not finished...but that's a whole 'nother story)

Also on this bus is another regular, whom we'll call Jill*. Jill is...mentally challenged. Seriously. As in, she's documented as such, takes medication and is in a special work program due to her mental condition. All of the drivers know it, most of the passengers who encounter her on a regular basis know it. Her quirks are usually tolerated as a result. This morning, though, she went above and beyond her normal antics.

First off, Jill was having a morning snack while doing her usual See-A-Word puzzle. Once she finished her nosh, she put the trash on the seat in front of her...then had the nerve to call the transit agency guy who sells bus passes, etc. on the bus (I told y'all...BOOTLEG!) to put her trash in the trash can!
Mind you, the trash can was right in front of the seat upon which she put her trash...wouldn't have taken much of an effort for her to get up, move less than a foot to her left, and drop her trash in the trash can.

But that would be too much like right. I raised an eyebrow--especially when transit agency dude actually disposed of her trash as requested--and went back to my book.

Here's where Jill upped her game. There was a woman in the seat across from her, having her own morning snack of a granola bar. Jill asks in her trademark loud voice, "What are you eating?"

The woman looks at her strangely, but again: most folks know Jill's flow, so they just acknowledge and keep it moving. She replies, "It's a cereal bar."

Jill asks, "Can I hold it? Just for a minute?"

Now, I had to stop reading because I have NEVER seen nor heard of a person asking to view another person's food, especially while the other person was still eating it!

Again, the woman gave her a look but was probably a bit worried about what Jill might do if her request was denied, so she handed the granola bar over. Jill then looked at the woman and asked, "Do you want it?"

I was speechless, and so was the woman. Jill took advantage of the shock and said, "Thank you," and proceeded to eat the rest of the granola bar. And then PUT THE EMPTY WRAPPER ON THE SEAT IN FRONT OF HER, and asked transit agency guy to put it in the trash. Again. And he did it. Again.

My flabber was gasted.
My dumb was founded.
My as(s) was tonished.

I sat there in profound shock. This chick had the unmitigated gall to not only Bogart this other woman's breakfast, but to eat it like nothing was wrong!

Mentally challenged, my arse.

I looked at Jill in a whole new light after that. Having come from a family of women who take manipulation to another level, I have the sneaking suspicion that ain't nothing wrong with Jill. Sure, she may process information a bit more slowly than an average person, but she probably makes that work for her...as evidenced by behavior toward her this morning. Such behavior is probably par for the course for her. She has learned how to get what she wants, and people fall for it out of fear of being politically incorrect or that she would cause a big scene. Kinda like giving a screaming kid some candy or a toy to shut them up. Pavlov wrote books full of studies on this very phenomenon, and that's why experienced (and practical) parents tell new parents not to run to a baby every time he or she cries.

Stimulus and response...it's the American way.

Jill ain't slow. Jill is truly gangster. Act like you know.

Thanks for stopping by.


*Names changed to protect the shady.

From the Commuter Files: A Nice, Tall Glass of STFU

One of the things I miss about living up north is that: those who take public transportation to and from work understand the value of silence.

Here in the south, you can tell that folks don't really get into the groove of pub trans, and thus aren't digging on some of the unspoken etiquette rules of the morning commute. They especially are ignorant of the Golden Rule of Morning Commutes on Public Transportation:

BE. QUIET.

See, morning commute time is Quiet Time. It's comprised of those sacred seconds that exist between the time you leave the comfort of your own home, and arrive at the doorstep of the job which allows you to keep the roof of said home over your head. It's the time when you manage to catch a little bit of extra sleep, or do your morning crossword/Seek-A-Word/Sudoku/Word Jumble, or read a few more pages of your current book or the newspaper. Quiet Time allows you a peaceful place in which to do any or all of the above so that you can get your mind right for the Corporate Rat Race, lest one's nerves get pushed to the point of sniping people from the top of your cubicle walls.

However, as Wesley Snipes so eloquently stated in Blade II: "Some motherf***ers always gotta skate uphill."

I ride the area commuter buses to work (no subways, alas...*sob*). It's bad enough that the buses run no less than every thirty minutes, and even SHUT DOWN COMPLETELY on holidays (Good Lord...haven't these people heard of a Saturday or Sunday schedule?! *shaking head*), but my peace of mind shatters like a China vase dropped on the sidewalk. Why? Due to loud-arsed fellow commuters!

The main culprits are the cell phone junkies, who have lately been skewing toward those who have family overseas; with the time difference (which is as much as 12 hours), they utilize morning commute hours to catch up with relatives.

Then there are those who just like to talk...to anyone, about anything. They'll strike up a conversation with you (or anyone else on the bus) about the government, the increased price of potato chips at the grocery store, why a bus was late, when they want to get off work. Bonus irritants if they talk in a non-English language; triple irritants if talking in a non-English language while on a cell phone.

Then there are the sports junkies. These are primarily male and they like to loudly debate the virtues of sports teams and players, especially when there is a significant sports event on the horizon, such as the Super Bowl.

And God forbid if the school kids get on the bus; I'm not talking about the elementary, middle school, or high school crowds (they usually are on the 3pm - 5pm buses and will tax your sanity if you ever have to ride a bus during this time), but the college kids who are so pressed to get to class (even though they should have been on an earlier bus to make it on time), they keep asking the driver every ten minutes to let them off at the school. Think of the little kid in the backseat of a car saying, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

There's one guy on my bus who likes to crack jokes. Dude, it is WAY too early in the morning for you to star in your own personal Comedy Central show. The sad thing is, he and I used to ride the same bus home in the evenings, when I worked at a previous job. He was jokey and perky...too perky for someone who'd worked a long, 8-hour day under fluorescent lights. When I took this new job, I thought I was finally rid of him...only to see him start showing up on my morning commute bus, even more bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

(There is a karmic lesson in all of this, but I am (un)blissfully ignorant of it at this time.)

And it's not just the commuters; some of the bus drivers are extra perky in the mornings. The last thing a sleep-deprived commuter wants to be faced with is a booming "GOOD MORNING!" as you insert your fare or bus pass into the fare box. I mean, dude...can a sista make it to her seat first? On my bus, the bus driver and the jokester dude like to feed off each other, like an unholy mass transit tag team. Makes for a nerve-grating (and loud) ride.

Sometimes wish that I carried a nice, tall glass of STFU** in my travel mug to offer my fellow riders, instead of Irish Breakfast tea.

Thanks for stopping by.

**STFU = Shut The F*** Up

Love Means Never Asking for a Kidney

I read this hilarious (yet pathetic) article in the Seattle Times newspaper today.

Divorcing Husband Wants Kidney Back

Apparently, this guy gave his wife a kidney when they were still married and in love and everything. Now that they are going through a divorce, he wants his kidney back. And here's the best part: he's put a value of $1.5 million on the donated kidney.

I can't make this stuff up.

Of course, the peanut gallery thinks he's an idiot (although stated in more polite terms). But this guy really thinks he has a case, and apparently so does the Supreme Court of Mineola, NY, where the case is being heard.

I don't know what's sadder: that the husband is pulling some crap like this, or that the state Supreme Court is actually entertaining the crap. I love seeing my tax dollars hard at work; don't you?

Somehow, I don't think they cover this specific topic in law school. I mean, how do you sit across from your client's soon-to-be-ex and keep a straight face with something like this?

"As to the possessions acquired during the course of this marriage, my client would like to keep the summer house in Tahoe, half of the joint IRA, and reclamation of the kidney donated to save his wife's life."

Which makes me wonder what would happen if this had occurred in a community property state, like California or Louisiana? Under community property law, only assets acquired during the marriage are eligible for division during a divorce (I used to work for a family law attorney in California. :D). Dude's kidney was his BEFORE the marriage...so it wouldn't be eligible as community property. He technically gave it as a gift, and gifts aren't listed as community property, either.

Speaking of gifts...since dude is putting a $1.5 million price tag on his kidney, that makes him liable to the IRS since one is not allowed to give gifts over $15,000 without having to pay taxes on it. So he's kind of committed a bit of tax fraud.

(mind you, I don't work for the IRS, nor do I play an IRS agent on TV).

People, this is why you get a prenuptial agreement. Spell out AHEAD OF TIME, while you and your significant other still have happy feelings, how you want to divvy things up (including body parts) in the event of divorce. Your bank account (and kidneys) will thank you.

Thanks for stopping by.

USA and TNT: Places to Make Friends

Y'all,

Original basic cable programming is the new hotness. And no one does it better than USA and TNT.

USA is really coming correct in the new millenium. I love me some Burn Notice, and In Plain Sight eventually grew on me. I've already sung the praises of House, MD and NCIS in a previous post. And the franchises (Law & Order SVU and Criminal Intent) are good to watch; Vincent D'Onfrio is THE MAN.

If you don't know, now you know.

Monk is a decent show, but I tend to watch it when nothing else is on. I don't know if its the way that the show is broadcast, but it has this vintage feel/look to it: very Magnum, PI. It's hard for me to watch the show and reconcile it with this current point in recent times. I also watch the show and keep seeing the police captain from The Fast and the Furious; he's a strong secondary character on the show.

I just cannot get into Psych. Crazy white dude fakes being psychic to solve murder cases, aided by his streetwise black sidekick: very Miami Vice meets The Odd Couple, minus the fast cars and boats, suits worn over T-shirts and loafers with no socks, sex appeal, and hordes of scantily clad, sex-crazed women. I watched the 2008 Christmas special, and I was blown away by the sheer triteness of the plot. But what can I say; stupidity is popular, as evidenced by the staying power and proliferation of soap operas.

On to TNT: The Closer ended up being a really good show. The character of Chief Brenda Johnson is off the hook with her deep Southern accent and designer outfit. And of course, I gotta give her dap for attending my alma mater and liking to eat so much. :D But my new best friend is Leverage, starring Timothy Hutton. LOVE IT! The series started off a bit slow, but by the time episode 3 came around, it had grown legs and was off running. If you get a chance, check it out. Age of the geek, baby! And you can't go wrong with reruns of the original Law & Order...this is the time to catch the Briscoe/Green episodes, especially the ones with Arthur Branch as the DA.

Thumbs down, though, to Saving Grace and Raising the Bar. While I thought I'd really like Saving Grace, the character of Grace (played by Holly Hunter) is just too off the rails for my taste. Raising the Bar was supposed to be the Next Great Law Show Hope (in the vein of L.A. Law, The Practice, etc.); the ratings apparently reveal that the show is popular, but I'm in that minority camp that isn't feeling it. I am glad that Mark-Paul Gosselaar is continuing to find prominent acting life after Saved by the Bell, and it's always good to see Gloria Reuben (although I wonder if she will join Tina Turner on her upcoming tour, since she sang backup for Tina on her last farewell tour--which was why Reuben left ER?).

Well, mid- to end of January will bring lots of new seasons of new shows, so get ready!

Thanks for stopping by.

Food, Folks and Fun: A Discourse on The Food Network

I'm getting hooked on the Food Network. I love to cook, and I like finding new recipes to try (I like how the recipes are listed for each episode of a show, and you can save, print, and/or email them). I am my best test kitchen, although sometimes I have to take it to the masses sooner than planned (like the jambalaya I made for my contribution to Christmas dinner. Who knew that cayenne pepper came in two levels of hotness...and I accidentally got the REALLY hot one?).

Watching some of these celebrity chefs is a hoot. Iron Chef America is a favorite show, just because I like to see the weird combinations they come up with on each show with the "Special Ingredient". I also confess to liking the overly dramatic act of The Chairman (who I last remember seeing in the movie From the Cradle to the Grave, starring DMX and Jet Li). The way his eyes pop from his head at random times (particularly when he's showing the Secret Ingredient) is a trip. And the posing of the Iron Chefs in the beginning, like they're about to come off the stage and throws some 'bows.

Obviously, you had to have graduated from a culinary school to go where they go with regard to food pairings. I have seen some speshul combos, such as cranberry risotto and a pork ear, banana, and strawberry sandwich (with a shot of almond milk on the side). Bobby Flay did these biscuit rounds with slices of goat cheese and a cranberry relish on top during the "Cranberries" challenge. WTF? Goat cheese and cranberries? Who THINKS of these things?

And why do they seem to serve polenta (in some shape or form) on every show? Polenta is like an Italian version of grits...but different. Garlic polenta, cranberry polenta, black truffle polenta (!)...polenta must be one of the first things they teach you to make in culinary school. It's the "save your butt" side dish. But during the "Cranberries" battle between Bobby Flay and Giada De Laurentiis against Mario Batali and Rachael Ray, the Batali/Ray won with some cranberry polenta. LOL).

More favorite shows:

I really enjoyed The Next Food Network Star (all praises due to God for holiday show marathons!). I was pleasantly surprised to see Aaron "Big Daddy" what's-his-name win Season 4, and get his show Big Daddy's House. Although the amount of black folks cooking on The Food Network were astounding (Sunny Anderson, The Neelys, that guy who runs the cooking camp for troubled teens, and Aaron). Food is truly one of the great equalizers (other than death).

You know I'm digging Miss Rachel Ray and her 30-Minute Meals. She gets mad props for boiling pasta in red wine. :D Although marriage must be good to her, 'cause ol' girl has gotten a bit chunky. I ain't mad at her, though. It lends to the credence of the show. Dinner: Impossible is a cool show too. I watched it for the first time when Michael Symon did a Crayola meal, where each course had to physically match the color of a crayon in a special palette chosen for the dinner (I think it was grape, salmon, sage, yellow, tomato, blueberry, and orange crayons). That was totally wild and creative!

I was finally glad to find out the name of the guy with the spiky blond hair and dark brown goatee (his name is Guy, and he won season 2 of The Next Food Network Star. Keep coming back; it really works!).

Favorite chefs: I like Michael Symon and Cat Cora (especially when she tosses back some ouzo at the end of her cooking. Go Cora!). Mario Batali is cool, too (even though the Food Network did him kinda dirty). Bobby Flay...he has his moments. He's arrogant, yet likeable...but he's also very New York City, and I have to take that into account. I like Ann Burrell because she talks to her food while cooking. I also like Robert Irvine, even though he falsified some of his credentials. He can still cook.

Now for my dislikes. Paula Deen is too Southern for this southern girl, and Ina Garten (the Barefoot Contessa) is just too monotone and low-key for me. Giada De Laurentiis irritates me for some reason (she's too perky), and Susan Lee is just too skinny (I'm sorry...a skinny cook, especially on the Food Network, is just wrong). The Neelys are too over-the-top lovey dovey. Guy what's-his-name is just too excitable, like a Jack Russell Terrier. He's kind of like Emeril Lite. Something about Aida (of Ask Aida) just doesn't sit right with me, and I can only take Bobby Flay in small doses.

Can't wait to watch season 5 of The Next Food Network Star, and the new reality show Chopped. (for some reason, T-Pain's "Chopped and Screwed" plays in my head when I see the commercial).

Thanks for stopping by.

New Year, New (Blogging) Attitude, and Cable Television

Hi there!

Happy New Year!

Okay...I logged into Blogger and saw that my last post was July 23, 2008. Which is a shame because I've had so many thoughts running through my head, and you probably would have enjoyed them (if nothing else but to shake your head and think, "maybe she should get some medication."

In this new year, I am going to make a greater effort to avail you of my brain droppings (c) the late, great George Carlin. So get ready, do an RSS feed (if that's available on this site), and tell a friend.

I have a thought! Wanna hear it? Here it go! (shout out to In Living Color)

I start a new job on Jan. 12. This is my first permanent foray in Corporate America in over 7 years...but hustling and flowing as a freelancer just wore a sister out (hey, 7 years is still a pretty good run, and I do take the occasional project just to keep my feet wet).

Anywho...I've had the past week and some change off until the start of my new gig. What did I do, besides read and write? Channel surf.

One really needs a lot of free time to truly sift through the wonder that is cable television. Granted, I only have basic cable, but that is more than enough (I mean, I have over 80 channels, including TNT, USA, The Weather Channel, and The Food Network. What more do I need?).

I officially became addicted to House, MD over the summer. Gregory House, MD is me...in a white male package that is addicted to Vicodin (though my limp is nowhere that pronounced). I am drawn to shows with smartass characters who tend to be loners (hey, I used to be a fan of Xena, Warrior Princess too.). I've also become fond of NCIS, especially the episodes with Ziva David, the Mossad officer (home girl kicks major arse). Then again, I've been a fan of Mark Harmon since his St. Elsewhere days (ha! I'm showing my age).

I'm also getting into the Food Network (since I like to cook) and The Learning Channel. For some odd reason, I like to watch the shows about gastric bypasses and multiple births.

Last night I stumbled across an episode of The Bad Girls Club (which includes that chick who was in Kanye West's "The New Workout Plan" video--the one talking about Ray Ray). My favorite on the show is my namesake from Chicago. She is off the meat rack.

Tonight I stumbled across Confessions of a Teen Idol. My flabber was gasted. Time has not been kind to some of these dudes, and I didn't even recognize some of them (Christopher Atkins from The Blue Lagoon! WHOA! And the dude who sang "How Do You Talk To An Angel"!). And the show was hosted by Chachi himself, Scott Baio (on whom I had a major crush back in the day...him and Leif Garrett :D).

Guilty Pleasure of the Week: The Secret Life of an American Teenager, on ABC. Despite the fact that you can play some serious drinking games based on how many times the phrase "have sex" is mentioned throughout an episode-- and the tie for "most irritating" between the girl who plays Amy Jurguens and the guy who plays her boyfriend, Ben--I was glad to see Molly Ringwald (of Sixteen Candles) holding down her role quite well--she is not just a Brat Pack flashback; this chick can ACT. Molly looks good, too! Go'n, girl! And though the storylines are as transparent as wet tissue paper, and the show has its beat-you-over-the-head-with-morality premise, it's like a car wreck that I can't stop watching...and part of that is due to sexual abuse survivor and resident sociopath Ricky. This dude is like a junior Hannibal Lecter, but without the cannibalism.

You know...I may actually need to be medicated. Let's hear it for health insurance!

Thanks for stopping by.