Letting Go for Lent: Day 2

Alrighty...it's day 2 of my giving up sugar for Lent. And guess what? Since I like to drink black tea (lots of caffeine!) with lots of sugar, I kind of gave up caffeine by default.

Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more. *sigh*

Oh well...it's done, and it'll do me some good.

So far, I'm not experiencing any of the horror stories I've read about sugar and/or caffeine detox. I was a bit more tired yesterday and fell asleep watching TV in the early evening, and late yesterday evening and sometimes during today, I've had a low-grade headache; not enough for me to take any Advil or anything, but enough to let me know it's there. This is apparently a normal part of sugar and caffeine detoxes.

One thing I've been doing, which I didn't realize was helpful at the time, was eating oatmeal for breakfast. Apparently, it helps suck out the toxins in my body and happily scrubs them out of my intestines.

(Okay, that may have been a bit graphic and TMI, but you get the point).

I've also been eating a lot more fruit; that helps when I have a taste for something sweet. Even though food is sky high these days, I've managed to find some good sale items, and don't sleep on those markdowns that grocery stores do to try and get rid of stuff that is about to expire. I got two bags of green apple slices for $1.00 each (BARGAIN! regular price was $2.99/bag), and three pints of strawberries for $4.98 (yes, you read that right: 3 pints of strawberries in this specially marked package, for about 5 bucks). I also got some bananas. I cut up a banana in my morning oatmeal, and add some cinnamon and a bit of half-and-half, and it actually turns out pretty well. I tried strawberries but they don't taste as good to me as the bananas.

Another thing I've been doing is just eating right, period. I've been eating more vegetables too, especially since springtime is fast approaching and more fresh fruits and vegetables are becoming available. Plus, given the high cost of foods, I've been shopping at a place called Fresh Market (which is kind of a Whole Foods Lite LOL--no toiletries section). Some of their prices are less than the regular chain stores like Kroger (which is similar to Harris Teeter, Safeway/Vons, Ralph's, Giant, Albertson's etc., depending on where you live) and the produce and meats tend to be of better quality. Plus, it's right next to the public library, a branch of my bank, a Harris Teeter (if I can get some stuff cheaper there), and some other shops (like a drugstore and a very nice thrift shop run by the Junior League), so it's one-stop shopping for me.

I'm plugging along and for those of you who may be on your own Lenten journey, I wish you luck and encourage you to hang in there!

Thanks for stopping by.

Letting Go for Lent: Day 1

While grocery shopping the other day, I had the bright idea that I should give up something for Lent. Mind you, I'm not Catholic nor do I play one on TV, but perhaps attending Mardi Gras parties and seeing the Mardi Gras-themed items in stores had an influence. After a bit of deliberation, I decided that I should give up sugar for Lent.

What was I smoking?

If you don't know, now you know: I am a sugar freak. Always have been. I don't eat chocolates, and the most candy I eat these days is the occasional piece of peppermint. But I've never met a tiramisu, creme brulee, strawberry shortcake, donut, or vanilla/yellow (cup)cake with chocolate icing that I didn't like. And my tea? Sweet. Period. Hot or cold. I'm talking about lots of sugar, enough to send somebody into a diabetic coma.

(which is probably not a good idea for someone who has diabetes on both sides of the family--types 1 and 2--but I digress)

Add to the fact that my belly lip is expanding into a muffin top, and I'm still having acne breakouts, and I decided that it was time for an intervention. Lent was a good excuse, and also gave me a good time frame within which to do this (40 days). Plus, I refuse to buy any more bigger clothes (arse expansion notwithstanding).

40 days and nights of no added sugar. No sugar in my tea, no cakes, cookies, pies, or donuts.

Lord have mercy on my detoxing soul.

It's not like I've gone cold turkey before. I used to do 3- to 7-day juice fasts when I lived in California, or went from sunup to sundown without eating anything. But a whole month and some change (practically a month and a half)? I don't know...it's going to be tough.

I'd already taken a step toward a better diet when I cut regular bread out of my diet and switched to pita bread. Granted, I will have the occasional croissaint or some three-cheese bread (especially when it's on the "reduced for quick sale" rack in the grocery store bakery section), but that's maybe once a week--not every day, like I used to. As a result of that, I noticed that the muffin top was slowly deflating, especially as I was able to get into a new (to me) pair of jeans that I'd bought over the summer and couldn't wear because I couldn't fasten them. Plus, I think I read that carbohydrates convert to sugar in the body as an energy source, so lessening that will help my sugar withdrawal.

Anyway...I am going to try and chronicle my sugar abstinence here: how I'm coping (or not), physical and emotional changes, and all that good stuff. It may get ugly, so read at your own risk.

Thanks for stopping by.

T.

Friday the 13th: Preview of Hairy Attractions

Today, I was running errands and saw some things that hurt my heart. As we get ever closer to the commercial pimpstrosity that is Valentine's Day, I have to implore my fellow women to do one simple thing that will make a world of difference.

Shave. Your. Face.

Seriously, y'all...I saw three (count 'em) women with mustaches to rival Adolf Hitler's and five o'clock shadows (at 11:30 in the morning). I tried not to stare, but I had to in order to determine if the shes were actually hes.

Now, I understand that some of us are genetically hairy (Nair has been a good friend since I hit puberty), and some of us have hormonal issues, but that is still no excuse to walk out of the house looking like a spinoff of the show Kyle XY that has gone horribly wrong. Even if you can't afford depilatory creams such as Nair and Neet, or the home wax kits, razors are relatively inexpensive. You can get a pack of ten store-brand ones for about $1.50 or less at everyday prices; or, you can save yourself 50 cents and pick the razors up at your local dollar store. You don't even need to buy shaving cream; soap makes a very effective skin enhancer for shaving (I mean, how do you think they shaved in the olden days? With SOAP! Ask any old-time barber who used a straight razor).

The point is: there is no excuse for any woman to leave the house looking like she needs a #2 guard (a certain attachment used on electric razors for closely shorn hair) used on her cheeks and jaws.

Have some pride, y'all. Valentine's Day isn't about loving someone else; it's about loving yourself too, which you should practice every day. Self-love means making sure you look good for YOU...which is the quickest path to finding love with someone else.

Love means never having to comb or brush your significant other's face.

Thanks for stopping by.

Birth of a Nation

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past week or so, then you already know about the woman who gave birth to octuplets via in vitro fertilization (IVF)--even though she already had six children.

The birth has raised a storm of drama and controversy, among them:
--why did this woman want even one more child, when she's living at home with her parents and unemployed?
--what doctor was crazy (or unethical) enough to implant more than the usual two embryos?
--who's going to end up paying for all this?

Like a lot of people, I could care less about how many children this woman has; but when the burden of their care will more than likely fall on me as a U.S. taxpayer, then that makes it my business. The woman, while she allegedly has a college degree, is not working; lives at home with her parents (and her father is doing consulting work in Iraq in order to support this suddenly enlarged family--even after they've already filed twice for bankruptcy). Her mom is raising her other six kids while she's recovering from the birth of the eight. Also, word on the curb is that she likes to file workers' compensation claims and reap the benefits. Another interesting tidbit to this story is not only that the sperm donor is the same for all of her children (a little bird mentioned that the woman could not conceive naturally due to blocked Fallopian tubes), but also that she gave birth and is (along with the babies) under medical care at a Kaiser Permanente facility (which is a Medicaid/MediCal haven).

*sniff* You smell that? Smells like a scam.

Come on, y'all, do the math. IVF costs a minimum of $10,000 per cycle (each time the woman goes in to get implanted with the fertilized embryos); most couples who have gone through IVF will tell you that it usually takes at least two or threee cycles to get pregnant. Then there are the pesky costs of food, medical care, bottles, clothes, diapers, toys, and all the lovely things that come with having one child, let alone the 14 she now has with the birth of the octuplets. And since this lady decided to hire a publicist AND a spokeswoman, that costs money too.

(A publicist, y'all. And a spokeswoman. Seriously.)

The tab is now up to hundreds of thousands of dollars, now. That's not chump change, except maybe by Wall Street standards.

On the real, though, can you really blame her? It was only a matter of time before someone got it into their heads to have multiple children for the sake of notoriety and fame. How many times has the media reported on sextuplets, septuplets, and octuplets getting everything from free diapers and formula, to free four-year college educations? And let's not forget the popular show Jon and Kate Plus 8 on The Learning Channel, which chronicles the daily lives of parents who gave birth to sextuplets years after the birth of twins. And, above all else, there is the 15 minutes of fame accorded to the mother who actually carried those children for over 30 weeks and gave birth.

The old adage "use what you got to get what you want" comes into play here. The woman felt that what she had was the ability to deliver children, so she tried to parlay that into a lucrative arrangement. Unfortunately for her, it fell flat. Sponsors aren't lining up to donate goods and services for the children because of the public outcry. People are writing TV networks, begging them not to add a show about this woman and her children to their programming lineup. The doctors who performed the IVF are laying low and keeping their name(s) out of the media--for now (I'm sure this will be revealed in upcoming weeks).

I'm not one to tell folks how to raise their children (except to support the use of discipline), but her parents should take some of the weight for all this mess. The woman is quoted by her mother as "loving children", even going so far as calling the woman's love for children an "obsession." An obsession is usually interpreted to mean "an unhealthy fixation", so knowing all this, how could you condone this behavior? Or were you trying to get a piece of the pie too?

(and before you say anything: the mother knew. She probably didn't want to know, but she knew her child and what she was capable of.)

Of course, the publicist and spokeswoman are trying to spin this and say that ol' girl wasn't out for financial gain, yadda yadda yadda...but then say that she's had offers from TV stations and publishers for her story and it's "too early to determine how much money she may receive."

Mmph.

Babymaking is a big business, judging from the amounts paid to surrogate mothers and adoption agencies (especially foreign ones). Still, it's a slap in the face to those who want to have kids but can't, or don't have the means to stage a media coup in an attempt to set themselves up for life. And given this chick's parental history, I'm hard pressed to feel any sympathy for her--only contempt. And if you want to get her side of the story, you'll have to wait until she signs it over to the highest bidder.

Thanks for stopping by.

Dale Carnegie for the New Millenium...NOT!

I really must move to Seattle...so many interesting things show up in the Emerald City's newspapers.

Like this tidbit from columnist Jerry Large, talking about a book that is causing a slow controversy: Leadership 101 for White Men: How to Work Successfully with Black Colleagues and Customers by Chuck Shelton.

According to Shelton, white men make up most of the executive leadership in this country, yet make up less than 1/4 of the total workforce in this country. Ergo (in his mind), they should learn to get along with the little people--which, according to his research, are black folks.

*cues up "Ebony and Ivory" by Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney*

I am feeling some kind of way about this book. I guess I missed the memo that, once again, this country is being built on our backs. Yes, there may be higher concentrations of black folks in certain jobs (e.g. blue collar) in certain areas (like Detroit or Washington, DC), and I've noticed that there seems to be a disproportionate number of black women in the administrative ghettoes of Corporate America and federal and state government jobs. But to make a blanket statement that most of the workforce in the United States is black just seems off to me. To paraphrase Cuba Gooding, Jr. in Jerry Maguire: "Show me the statistics!"

Likewise, I didn't know that white men had different leadership strategies than black men...or Asian men...or Latino men. Or women. When John Maxwell writes his leadership books, he doesn't specify that only white, Christian men (like him) would benefit from his knowledge. I also don't recall Dale Carnegie specifying that only white people would (and should) know how to win friends and influence people.

Here's the product description from Amazon.com:

"Leadership 101 for White Men: How to Work Successfully with Black Colleagues and Customers is the first book that equips six million white men to lead, through seizing the opportunities and handling the challenges that diversity provides. Honed by the author through more than 250 presentations, and tested in relationships with people of color and women for forty years, this approach prepares white men to deliver better results, by building more effective relationships with black employees and customers. Through 101 essays, it speaks directly to the growing national appetite for straight talk that helps Americans communicate and achieve across race and gender lines."

This is comical on so many levels, the least being that women are not included among the people of color (check the wording of the second sentence). Also, since when did "of color" equal "black"? Maybe I learned differently, but usually the term "of color" refers to anyone who is not white/Caucasian/European; that means black/African/Caribbean/South Asian/Asian/Hispanic/Latino, and any and all combinations thereof. Please refer to the "One-Drop Rule" if you ever get confused.

Has this Shelton dude showed up on Sean Hannity's or Bill Reilly's show yet? Has FOX network made this mandatory reading for its executive staff? Somebody's buying it, because as of the time of this posting, there were only 2 copies of the book left in stock on Amazon.com. Oddly, no one has written a review, and the book was published in December 2008. Guess no one wants to put their neck on the block for a flame war.

Of course, it begs the question that Shelton may feel that there should be another manual that specifically deals with each ethnicity and race of persons of color, or do we all just look alike and thus can be lumped together? Or one that deals specifically with leadership strategies in dealing with women? What about when dealing with gay people? In which case, it's the US Census Form all over again, and you have to check off one box only.

I guess we all can't just get along.

Thanks for stopping by.

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