Just updating there, haven't in a while. WE had a huge and i think fabulous event recently. It was (the way spongebob would say it) faaaaaaabulous!
But I am tired. Physically, mentally and emotionally. I learned a lot these past few days. I am now aware of the dedication and tireless passion of a minority of women, and I am more aware of the snarkiness and bitterness of another minority of women. My hope and my prayer is that next time we can all be more like the first group and far far less like the second.
Whether you agree with how things were planned or not, there were many many positive, uplifting moments and that should be celebrated. Whether you feel slighted by some misconstrued comment or lack of copious praise, we all need to get over it, through it or something.
The bottom line is that we were all there and we come away with something from it. It's up to each of us to decide if it's bitterness or love.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Forwardy McSpamsalot
today I got an email from a very sweet, very well-meaning friend:
Anything with a title like that, or is a forward of a forward of a forwarded forward...Please do NOT SEND IT TO ME! I promise not to send you the next "email 40 ppl or your mother dies" chain letter I get. From time to time I do get some items that are interesting to me. I will take the time to research the issue, see at the very least if there is some information on it at Snopes or urbanlegend.com and then (and ONLY then) i will forward it, removing all of the previous forwards and indents and such so you as the audience would only get the "meat" and not the "filler".
In the past, it was bad enough to get an envelope in the mail addressed to you with no return label/address....it could be a chain mail letter...AHHHHHHH; however, now that we have access to the majority of the world at our fingertips, that doesn't mean that you/me/we should forward every precious nugget of half-truthful information.
Even if this were true (the cell-phone thing), I won't get charged for the calls as I don't answer calls from #'s that I do not know. If I do not answer the call, I don't get charged for the minutes. Additionally, I have a plan that has enough minutes that I end up losing them after they roll-over for so many months. I in fact don't know of anyone who pays "per call" or "per minute" on their wireless plan unless they are using prepaid wireless devices in which case, please DO call the # for the Do Not Call list!!!
OK, rant is over.
Cell phone numbers going public tomorrow REMINDER....all cell phone numbers areIf my friend is reading this: I am sorry, I do not mean to embarrass you. You are not the only person sending this type of thing; however, yours is just the one last "scary" email I have received that has made me boil over. Friends: emails labeled as noted below are usually untrue, worthless and time/space-consuming.
being released to telemarketing companies tomorrow and you will start to receive
sale calls. ....YOU WILL BE CHARGED FOR THESE CALLS To prevent this, call
the following number from your cell phone: 888-382-1222. It is the
National DO NOT CALL list. It will only take a minute of your time It
blocks your number for five (5) years. You must call from the cell phone number
you want to have blocked. You cannot call from a different phone number. HELP
OTHERS BY PASSING THIS ON TO ALL YOUR FRIENDS. It take about 20
seconds.
Perfume robbers
Kidnapped Child Rumor
Evan Trembley
"to my child": Rachel Arlington
Aspartame
Deodorant causing breast cancer
Anything with a title like that, or is a forward of a forward of a forwarded forward...Please do NOT SEND IT TO ME! I promise not to send you the next "email 40 ppl or your mother dies" chain letter I get. From time to time I do get some items that are interesting to me. I will take the time to research the issue, see at the very least if there is some information on it at Snopes or urbanlegend.com and then (and ONLY then) i will forward it, removing all of the previous forwards and indents and such so you as the audience would only get the "meat" and not the "filler".
In the past, it was bad enough to get an envelope in the mail addressed to you with no return label/address....it could be a chain mail letter...AHHHHHHH; however, now that we have access to the majority of the world at our fingertips, that doesn't mean that you/me/we should forward every precious nugget of half-truthful information.
Even if this were true (the cell-phone thing), I won't get charged for the calls as I don't answer calls from #'s that I do not know. If I do not answer the call, I don't get charged for the minutes. Additionally, I have a plan that has enough minutes that I end up losing them after they roll-over for so many months. I in fact don't know of anyone who pays "per call" or "per minute" on their wireless plan unless they are using prepaid wireless devices in which case, please DO call the # for the Do Not Call list!!!
OK, rant is over.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
White Trash Coffee Klatsche
A few definitions to start this rant off:
white trash
n. Offensive Slang
1. Used as a disparaging term for a poor white person or poor white people.
2. Used as a disparaging term for a white person or white people perceived as being lazy and ignorant.
coffee klatch or coffee klatsch also kaf·fee·klatsch n.
A casual social gathering for coffee and conversation.
h'ok...I am probably a step removed from white trash. As a child, I lived in North (east) philadelphia (K & A baby!!!). I am probably a first generation non-wt, perhaps a 1.5 gen non-wt b/c my parents got us out of the area and did what they could to make us more or less middle class....thing is I graduated college, left the kenzo world behind me so to speak.
Fast forward to the year 2008. I work in "the city" in a decent, rather artsy-fartsy section. I take the train in from my more-or-less suburban home. I walk up the pissy steps (god, wtf do people do on these steps? I see the maintenance guy mopping them every.single.day) and out onto the streets of the city. Of course in order to make my way to Star$ for my daily dose of hyper-caffeination, I have to either dodge or walk through the women that my office calls the "White Trash Coffee Klatsche" seriously. SERIOUSLY.
On any given day (actually every day pretty much) between the hours of 9am and maybe 1:00 pm, you can find these women, usually at least 3 of them, all with young (read: infant) children and/or a bun in the oven. They hang out on the corner near the train stop. They drink their coffee and let their kids run around and smoke their cigarettes with the muffin top hanging out of the walmart jeans, or perhaps the maternity pants rolling down the belly so that you can really SEE that the woman is pregnant, not just sloppy and fat. Think Joy from My Name is Earl but with 50 extra lbs and 3 inches of black roots hanging out.
I realize that this sounds really mean. I guess it is; however, it's true. I need to take a picture one day coming up from the train. It's almost amazing how ridiculous they are. All smoking, one holding her baby in a baby-bjorn type carrier, smoking smoking away.
JESUS, don't they realize that this is not good for them, or their children? The funniest thing is that the corner they seem to gather on is directly across from a planned parenthood, and in front of an HIV support center. Irony much?
UPdate: Today, a pregnant woman with her hair scraped and gelled back into a ponytail in a cute little maternity summery top was walking down the street and i almost got her picture. She was struggling with her purse and a lighter to light her ciggie. Her friend, muffin top, was walking down the street behind her and they were having a yellversation (not conversation, YELLversation) about a block apart from each other.
wheeeee. it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood
white trash
n. Offensive Slang
1. Used as a disparaging term for a poor white person or poor white people.
2. Used as a disparaging term for a white person or white people perceived as being lazy and ignorant.
coffee klatch or coffee klatsch also kaf·fee·klatsch n.
A casual social gathering for coffee and conversation.
h'ok...I am probably a step removed from white trash. As a child, I lived in North (east) philadelphia (K & A baby!!!). I am probably a first generation non-wt, perhaps a 1.5 gen non-wt b/c my parents got us out of the area and did what they could to make us more or less middle class....thing is I graduated college, left the kenzo world behind me so to speak.
Fast forward to the year 2008. I work in "the city" in a decent, rather artsy-fartsy section. I take the train in from my more-or-less suburban home. I walk up the pissy steps (god, wtf do people do on these steps? I see the maintenance guy mopping them every.single.day) and out onto the streets of the city. Of course in order to make my way to Star$ for my daily dose of hyper-caffeination, I have to either dodge or walk through the women that my office calls the "White Trash Coffee Klatsche" seriously. SERIOUSLY.
On any given day (actually every day pretty much) between the hours of 9am and maybe 1:00 pm, you can find these women, usually at least 3 of them, all with young (read: infant) children and/or a bun in the oven. They hang out on the corner near the train stop. They drink their coffee and let their kids run around and smoke their cigarettes with the muffin top hanging out of the walmart jeans, or perhaps the maternity pants rolling down the belly so that you can really SEE that the woman is pregnant, not just sloppy and fat. Think Joy from My Name is Earl but with 50 extra lbs and 3 inches of black roots hanging out.
I realize that this sounds really mean. I guess it is; however, it's true. I need to take a picture one day coming up from the train. It's almost amazing how ridiculous they are. All smoking, one holding her baby in a baby-bjorn type carrier, smoking smoking away.
JESUS, don't they realize that this is not good for them, or their children? The funniest thing is that the corner they seem to gather on is directly across from a planned parenthood, and in front of an HIV support center. Irony much?
UPdate: Today, a pregnant woman with her hair scraped and gelled back into a ponytail in a cute little maternity summery top was walking down the street and i almost got her picture. She was struggling with her purse and a lighter to light her ciggie. Her friend, muffin top, was walking down the street behind her and they were having a yellversation (not conversation, YELLversation) about a block apart from each other.
wheeeee. it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Digital Age
This is an iteresting era in which we live. Communications are instant. I carry a cell phone, a blackberry, a laptop and have a gps system for my car. Now I know where I am, where I am going and how to get there. I can conduct business on the way to and fro. I can find the nearest eatery and get a rating on that eatery by googling it on my blackberry. I can IM my husband and the office, and yet I find it hard to get information from people....
I know that sounds crazy. I remember when you had to actually dial the phone. I remember when you either answered the telephone or it rang and rang and rang. I was alive and cognizant before we had tv remotes (though my aunt and uncle had a device that would allow them to stay in bed and turn their tv on and off which was enabled by a cord that ran from the TV to the bedside table). I remember when the 2nd quickest way to contact someone was by sending a letter through the mail. I remember having a pen pal one year who wrote to me on scented stationary. It was always orange scented..smelled sort of like fruity pez. It was an event, when my pen pal Tracey would send me a letter.
I don't know for sure if this blog today is in praise of being digital or a lament of that same fact of life. I love getting email, but there's nothing still that beats a nice note from my grandmother in the mail. I prefer getting a response to a post or an IM conversatioon with a friend, but there are no real nuances in those conversations. If you don't KNOW me, you don't understand how to take what I am typing. I am sad for my children to a degree, because they will NEVER know a time where phones were not portable and mommy didn't get her email in her pocket. My 18 month old answers anything if she hears a phone ring. She'll pick up her banana or her spatula and say "hi?" "heyyyyy" when she thinks a response is warranted.
Oh well. My dad still calls us. I email him and he calls me: "yeah denise, about that email" uh ok. This is an almost 70 year old man who forwards every.single.email he gets that's "jokey" to me, but he can't hit the reply button in hotmail? My brother thinks it's because he can't type. Not so sure here, i think it's because he misses the now-human interaction of the phone.
hang tough my friends...pretty soon we'll have communication implants and we will be able to chat telepathically. God forbid people ever really know what I am thinking.....
I know that sounds crazy. I remember when you had to actually dial the phone. I remember when you either answered the telephone or it rang and rang and rang. I was alive and cognizant before we had tv remotes (though my aunt and uncle had a device that would allow them to stay in bed and turn their tv on and off which was enabled by a cord that ran from the TV to the bedside table). I remember when the 2nd quickest way to contact someone was by sending a letter through the mail. I remember having a pen pal one year who wrote to me on scented stationary. It was always orange scented..smelled sort of like fruity pez. It was an event, when my pen pal Tracey would send me a letter.
I don't know for sure if this blog today is in praise of being digital or a lament of that same fact of life. I love getting email, but there's nothing still that beats a nice note from my grandmother in the mail. I prefer getting a response to a post or an IM conversatioon with a friend, but there are no real nuances in those conversations. If you don't KNOW me, you don't understand how to take what I am typing. I am sad for my children to a degree, because they will NEVER know a time where phones were not portable and mommy didn't get her email in her pocket. My 18 month old answers anything if she hears a phone ring. She'll pick up her banana or her spatula and say "hi?" "heyyyyy" when she thinks a response is warranted.
Oh well. My dad still calls us. I email him and he calls me: "yeah denise, about that email" uh ok. This is an almost 70 year old man who forwards every.single.email he gets that's "jokey" to me, but he can't hit the reply button in hotmail? My brother thinks it's because he can't type. Not so sure here, i think it's because he misses the now-human interaction of the phone.
hang tough my friends...pretty soon we'll have communication implants and we will be able to chat telepathically. God forbid people ever really know what I am thinking.....
Monday, April 7, 2008
Western PA roads
OMG. Travelling for my job, and tonight I was in Western PA. Ultimately travelling back to my hotel at night.
I was using a GPS unit and found myself turned around on a ramp. I followed the directions of the GPS unit and then found myself on a fricking pitch dark gravel road. It was maybe 1.5 lanes total. I couldn't turn around, so i continued forward, all the while scenes from Motel Hell and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (the original Tobe Hooper version) run through my mind. I travel this road around for about 4 miles and THANK GOD get onto a paved road and finally to a more or less major road.
Of course there remains over an hour and a half of winding hilly road...road that goes up and down so quickly that sometimes I am afraid that the road ended...ugh
but i arrived safely at my hotel about 3 hours after leaving my last destination. But I did arrive safely and my luggage was here!!! That story's for another time though b/c my bed is calling me :-)
wheeeeee!
I was using a GPS unit and found myself turned around on a ramp. I followed the directions of the GPS unit and then found myself on a fricking pitch dark gravel road. It was maybe 1.5 lanes total. I couldn't turn around, so i continued forward, all the while scenes from Motel Hell and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (the original Tobe Hooper version) run through my mind. I travel this road around for about 4 miles and THANK GOD get onto a paved road and finally to a more or less major road.
Of course there remains over an hour and a half of winding hilly road...road that goes up and down so quickly that sometimes I am afraid that the road ended...ugh
but i arrived safely at my hotel about 3 hours after leaving my last destination. But I did arrive safely and my luggage was here!!! That story's for another time though b/c my bed is calling me :-)
wheeeeee!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
My kid is weird :-)
OK, I admit it, she's weird (my son is too, but this one...she's apparently strange from the start ;-)) C is a peanut. She's already into everything. She can figure out how to get through child locks that still perplex her older (by 4.5 years) brother. She loves to draw in books...and on the table...and on the fridge...and on the floor...did i mention the table?
She also loves her red shoes. These are shiny red shoes that I bought when an online shoe store was changing their inventory and I got these (size 7) for $3.... Of course C has a size 5 foot in length but apparently she's got a woman's size 8 in width LOL. This child is in love with her red shoes. She brings them to me and will hit me with them (well, tap me with them) over.and.over.and.over until I put them on her. She can be wearing footed pj's, she can be wearing nothing at all....but she wants these shiny red shoes on. She now has a blister that's healing from where the strap was rubbing her fat little foot. Every morning now we struggle with forcing her to wear her crocs instead of the shiny red shoes...wheeeeeee!!
That's really it...She's weird, but I guess Apples come from Apple Trees.... ;-)
Friday, March 14, 2008
The Postman always complains twice...
Today we were heading out to lunch. Our office manager had opted to stay behind because there was a package being delivered that we had been "missing" whenever the postal person was delivering.
As we were leaving we hear a man yelling "hey, hey you ladies...don't leave" and we realized that we were being flagged down by the mailman. He was yelling from a block away "hey don't leave...i got a delivery for you" so we waited.
He's got a dolly with three boxes on it. The top one belongs to us. He commences bitching about how many times this thing was attempted to be delivered, and how every time they come we aren't there. My friend said "if you always come at lunchtime, well, we AREN'T there." Guy then starts complaining about the other "poor kid" who has been attempting delivery to our place of business on SATURDAY. We work in building with lawyers. There aren't usually people working on Saturday in the office. I told the postman that perhaps we need to make sure that people use UPS when they send us things as they don't deliver on Saturday and we wouldn't have to worry about missing deliveries (or listening to the guy who gets fricking paid to deliver this stuff complain about the packages he has to deliver). Add to that the fact that Mr. Postman then tries to give us a package for another building on our street. "well youse guys are all the same company right?" Ummmm, no. In fact in our building alone there are a non-profit, a bio-technical firm, lawyers, and a sorority. And the ppl in the other building aren't the same ppl....the company who manages the buildings are the same. But that's like delivering your mail to your aunt sue's brother in law....makes no sense.
O well. Dude was also wearing a pair of what appeared to be disposable sunglasses...tres chic!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Woman in yellow, or Curious George's Biatch
She was dressed in banana yellow...cropped jacket & pants tucked into brown cowboy boots. She had her hair pulled up on one side and bushy/kinda teased up on the other side. She had on plastic framed glasses that reminded me of protective eye wear that the woodshop teachers wore in high school. She also had a belly bag, i suppose to protect her valuable stash of screaming yellow zonkers or bananas or what not.
What in the world would posses one to wear such an outfit? Honestly?? I initially thought maybe she's a "new member" of a sorority somewhere around here, but truly it was before the recruitment season opened for most of the schools in the tri-state area. Some friends suggested perhaps she was celebrating mardi gras or something. Perhaps. Since dressing like a ripe piece of fruit such as a banana is a big custom around mardi gras.
oh well. i will probably never know. perhaps she just likes yellow...something i will ponder.
Personal Massagers LOL lisa
While I was in college, I was amazed at the advertising that went on in readers digest and TV guide and other family-oriented magazines. The product was a personal massager, and the advert usually showed a woman using the vibrating massager on her neck or on her cheek....
um yeah...ok that's where the average sexually repressed woman would use her personal massager to relieve her "tensions" LMAO....oooh yeah, yeah baby...loosen that knot, massage me, massage me MASSAGE ME!!
LMAO...
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