Cherry Indigo: August 2005

I've added "word verification" to the comment area to block spammers. My apologies.

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Blog-Aid

I've read several blogs in the past day or two that talk about all bloggers banding together to help the victims of Katrina. I honestly didn't understand what we were supposed to do and the people writing about it were a little vague as well...I don't think they knew what they were going to do either, just that they wanted to help, which is nice.

This morning, however, on Instapundit.com, there was something posted. Here is what the plan would seem to be.

UPDATE: The plan for tomorrow's flood-aid blogburst: I'd like each blogger participating to put up a post recommending a charity, or other action to help, and linking back to this post where I'll keep a comprehensive list of both bloggers and charities. Basically, a Carnival of Hurricane Relief. That way readers of any blog will have ready access to recommendations on all the blogs. If anyone has a better idea, let me know.

Oh, I see now that they call it a blogburst....I'm sticking with Blog-Aid....blogburst sounds like something you don't want happening to your body.

"Dude...like, what happened to your arm?"
"I got a blogburst."
"Oh bummer, man, looks like it hurt."
"Yeah. Majorly. But it was kinda cool, too."

Anyway...

So, there you have it. Instapundit already has a list of over a dozen charities listed, so referencing that site is probably the easiest thing to do. Unless I make up a charity (i.e. "Seinfeld's" The Human Fund: Money For People), I can't think of any not already listed there. I also read, I think on WWdN (Wil Wheaton dot Net), that he has received the go-ahead from the Red Cross to hold a poker game where proceeds go to a relief fund. I don't know if anyone can join or if you have to be a celebrity of sorts. If you're a poker buff, might be worth checking out.

Okay, I'm finished being a public service announcement...back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

For Those About to Rock...

It took me all day to realize that I expressed exhuberance about hearing "Back in Black" this morning. While I do like that song (and did listen to it), the real excitement came from hearing "You Shook Me All Night Long". Truly a fantastic song.

Okay, that was it. If I haven't said it before, I'll say it at some point - one of my worst "fluffy" fears (not like murder which is a real fear) is being misunderstood. So I had to correct my earlier entry.

Katrina and the Freaking Waves

Oh my God, I feel so awful for those poor people in New Orleans. Selfishly, I'm glad I got the chance to visit N.O. a couple years ago so I could see what a great city it is - was - will be again. But more then anything, my heart just goes out to those who have, essentially, lost everything. I watched a video of a man that had hold of his wife's hand and she finally had to tell him that he couldn't hold her anymore and to take care of the kids. Even the reporter was crying as she interviewed him.

I've been watching different coverage and just can't get over the devastation. I'm also thinking a lot about the colleagues we have in nearby Covington..right across Lake Pontchartrain (about 30 minutes from the city center). I drove across that causeway several days in a row, going from the city to the office, before spending Halloween weekend in the city. and now it's probably gone.

I'm hoping that everyone we know is safe and got out in plenty of time.

Good Morning, Good Morning, to you....

What a great morning drive to work...

First, my favorite four legged buddies were at a safe and reasonable distance from the road.

Second, I heard "Back in Black" and "Don't Phunk with my Heart" - what I'm not telling you is that I picked them myself from my iPod - but I still heard them and had a mini-concert in my car!

And third, I followed the Red Bull truck from the Turnpike exit to the street I turn on to get to my office! That was awesome! Can you imagine driving the Red Bull truck? I'd never sleep again. Although, it's probably like the years I worked at a pizza shop in high school...it's great at first...but then I couldn't even look at a pizza for 2 or 3 years. Ick.

Has anyone ever had a Jagerbomb? It's Red Bull with a shot of Jagermeister dropped in. When I was hanging out with Nan's (of Iced Tea NOT Coke fame) softball team several weeks ago, they convinced me to try one, using the argument that "It tastes like a Sweet Tart!". And it does!!! Great drink....great team, too. They are way fun.

So, now I have the song from this blog's title stuck in my head....not a bad song and one of my favorite movies...but not the kind of movie in which you'd find "Back in Black" - at least I hope not.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Little Wesley Crusher....Happy At Last

I really like the way Wil Wheaton writes. I found
his blog by chance, looking on a web site of celebrity blogs...for some reason, I just had to know who out there in the entertainment business had something to say. So I found Wil.

For those of you who are not geeks, Wil played Wesley Crusher in "Star Trek: The Next Generation". (He was also in the movie "Stand By Me".) I loved "Star Trek: TNG". It was awesome and so much better then the original. (I can only imagine the gasps of disbelief that just emanated from hard core fans of the original series - sorry, can't get on board with it.)

I can also identify with him to a point because he talks about "Star Trek: TNG", Dungeons and Dragons and geeky stuff like that. Aside from "TNG", I was a HUGE fan of "The X-Files" and was involved with an online game called DragonRealms for a couple years. Nowadays, I find myself too busy to really get hooked on any television shows and this blog is the closest I come to "being online" - I also don't think there will ever be another show like "The X-Files" that's worth getting hooked on (my former crush on Scully might have something to do with that).

Wil left "TNG" part way into his contract to pursue a movie career (think Shelly Long and "Cheers"). While that didn't work out for him, writing seems to be working out very well. And had his acting career taken off, we wouldn't necessarily have the literary contribution that we do.

I so enjoyed his blog entries that I bought his two books this week. Dancing Barefoot and Just A Geek. I will sometimes read two books at once, if one is easy and fun, so I'm now jumping back and forth between Just A Geek and A People's History of the United States. I think the risk of mixing up the story lines is low.

I so often use this space to bitch and complain and unfairly judge others that I thougt it about time that I promoted something that I'm really enjoying...and that would be Wil Wheaton's writing.

"Aye, Sir. Course laid in."

Can US Airways Do This?

This is too funny not to reference.

It comes from Dave Barry's site. Dave Barry is arguably one of the funniest people I've ever heard speak - he was one of the speakers for the Philly Speaker's Series last year. I am in awe of his wit.

Return to Dawson's Creek....as fast as you can!!

I was visiting Barnes and Noble this weekend, one of my all-time favorite haunts, and picked up three magazines, one of which was Radar. I’ll be honest, I’ve never seen this particular magazine before or even heard of it. I hate to admit that the cover was what caught my attention (although that is the job of the cover) because it was graced by the Reverend Dr. Tom Cruise (or is that Dr. Reverend Tom Cruise?). It wasn’t even that it was him…it was the composition of the cover. Upon further review, the article was not so much about the ridiculous “romance” between Tom and Katie Holmes, it was about the manic zeal he has for Scientology and it posed the question of whether it is derailing his career (didn’t “Far and Away” do that already?). Well, I thought to myself, THIS could be worth reading.

I’m off the subject of whether the Hollywood Pontiff is losing it…he clearly is. And I’m off the subject of whether or not he’s gay….he probably is and who cares. (Recent rumors have him and Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty in a tryst and the Rob Thomas part breaks my heart.) I’m even over the subject of his outrageous antics, in the name of love, on Oprah and Jay Leno and his tirade on the "Today Show"…again, he’s clearly lost it. At this point, lying on the couch would serve him better then jumping on one.

What I can’t get my head around is not the Tom Cruise part, I long ago pegged him as a bad actor and mental case. No, what I can’t understand is Katie Holmes in the role of modern day mail order bride. WHAT, in God’s name (or Xenu if you are a Scientologist), is she thinking? Is the payoff of being Mrs. Tom Cruise that alluring? (Give me an ‘N’, give me an ‘O’!) Is there more money involved then what God and Xenu have combined? Does she really buy into the “there’s no such thing as bad publicity” line? And has she not heard the stories that she wasn’t even first choice? According to the article in Radar and another that was posted and removed from E!Online, Tom went through a list of 18-22 year olds, trying his best to woo them into this horror movie he calls his life. The list included Scarlett Johansson, Kate Bosworth, Jessica Alba, Lindsay Lohan and even the new Mrs. Ben Affleck, née Jennifer Garner.

I’m dumbfounded that Katie a) was gullible enough to fall for L Ron Jr.'s sales pitch and b) is going through with it when she has surely seen the press surrounding it. While I was not a viewer of “Dawson’s Creek” and think I have only accidently caught one full episode (the one where Pacey enters a female beauty pageant and Katie’s character Joey sings this awful, off-key song as her “talent” portion), I have to think she’d be better off finding another nice, sugary, sappy pseudo drama to star in where she can actually leave the set each day. The one she’s starring in right now should be cancelled before the wrap party even starts.

Katie, I hate to tell you, but you seem to be up Dawson’s proverbial Creek without a paddle. I suggest abandoning ship….and I don't just mean the Earthly kind, I also refer to the alien ship that Xenu and his merry, galactic alliance of 76 planets allegedly steers.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Brawny...For A Different Kind of Cleanup?

Quick entry:

Has anyone really paid attention to the Brawny commercial with the guy making a cake and the cute little puppy dog? Maybe I'm the last to notice this but I just did tonight. At the end, when "Mr. Parker" is walking toward the camera, you can't help but notice - whether you're gay or straight- this guy's package. I swear, he must be using Brawny to stuff himself.

It makes me wonder if the boys sit around, waiting to catch a glimpse of Mr. Parker and his package of towels. And do they then need to use the product themselves?

That commercial was always creepy to begin with, the way it borders on soft porn for advertising towels, but now I'm just downright scared of it.

I Scream, You Scream...

I’m starting to think less of Andrew Sullivan’s blog and more of the ones he references…such as The New Republic Online, Professor Bainbridge and Instapundit.com (love that name!). Truth be told, I am so open to all perspectives of a situation that I’ll keep reading them all. Besides, there have been a couple Andrew Sullivan blogs that are dead on to my way of thinking or feeling. But the long suffering SUV argument to which he has dedicated much blog space recently…c’mon. To quote a fellow Po-Diddy…”Can you not see how dead that horse is?”

When first introduced, SUVs were touted as menaces to the road; causing more accidents, producing rude drivers (trust me, we were rude to begin with, the SUV just let us express it more openly), and there were the predictions that more land would be needed because parking spots would need to be bigger and this would ruin the environment (I do believe the emissions from ALL motor vehicles had a jump on that long before the first SUV arrived on the scene.) With SUV sales being in the millions per year, the arguments seem to either be falling on deaf ears or people just don’t give a shit.

SUV owners are now being blamed for financing the terrorists and driving up gas prices. Ummm…EYE don’t want higher gas prices and I don’t know any terrorists…unless you count the damn mosquitos in my back yard that insist on eating me alive every night while I try to enjoy a drink and a book on my patio. Fuckers. And, yes, I’ve tried those special bug-repellant candles…I find that setting the plastic candle holder on fire is more effective since it also keeps the neighbors away.

There are many, really intelligent, discussions out there about the pros and cons of SUVs. What I'm writing here...fluff, of course. As luck would have it, I see both sides to the SUV debate…I am very annoying that way. When I first read Andrew’s blog, a twinge of guilt hit me right in the gut and, being in the market for a new vehicle next year, I immediately went to the Audi site to check out the A4 again (and now someone is saying, “An import? Buy American!”) ….even though I’ve told all my friends that I am getting an MDX. Period.

I started asking myself, could I go back to a car? I really like sitting up high. I feel safer. I also like having it in the snow and for hauling things from Lowe’s and Home Depot. But I don’t want to finance the terrorists – and let’s face it, if I stop driving an SUV, millions of other people will follow suit and the problem will be solved. Maybe we can get Carrie Underwood to do a celebrity endorsement - you get a free case of Kit Kats if you trade in your SUV. (Yes, I am referencing previous entries again, sorry.) I guess we’ll see where things stand in January when I get serious about my purchase.

I had no idea the trouble I was causing. I apologize. If Andrew can promote my blog, make it famous and figure out a way for it to produce my current income, I will stay home every day and not drive to work in my SUV. Let me know – I’ll be waiting to hear back. I am definitely unjustly opinionated on enough subjects to blog all the live long day, to which both of my faithful readers can attest.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

What I Did On Summer Vactation

I made a collage. How cool am I? Okay, okay, 1st graders can do it, too. Whatever. From the top left, going clockwise: 1) watching the game; 2) we actually DID play softball while there; 3) action shot in the field!; 4) hanging by the pool with Madekin China, our temporary mascot; 5) Awesome Monkey temps; 6) my 50 Cent dance partner and friends; 7) hangin' outside the rooms until that old witch yelled at us; 8) Monkey couple; 9) laundry day...my, aren't we organized...

Literary scenes from a town called Po-Way. The names have been changed to protect the inebriated. This was a group project. Contributors include:

Brrrr (Head Writer) ; Queen of the Po-Titties ; Mama the Hip-Hop Diva ; Big Poppa ; Cargo Shorts ; Girlfriend of Cargo Shorts (GoCS) ; Princess Cherry Indigo (Editor in Chief)

OBSERVATIONS & GENERAL INFO:
- The story of the stork comes from old Lithuanian folklore AND (I kept researching this) in Western culture during Victorian times, when children would ask their parents “where did I come from” … parents would come up with ways to avoid talking about sex by making up stories. Being delivered by a stork was the most common answer to the children’s curiosity.
- No matter how hot it is outside, or how fast she runs, Cherry’s hair doesn’t move.
- Mama has been able to ascertain precisely why she is a lesbian… it relates to eating chocolate bars without nuts as a child.
- GoCS seemed surprised that nearly every lesbian she saw last week was wearing cargo shorts.
- Brrrr noticed that when lesbians weren’t wearing cargo shorts, they were wearing UnderArmor.
- Mama laughs uncontrollably when she sees pineapple.
- Brrrr wants to make t-shirts that say “I Eat Pineapple”
- There is such a stark contrast between the parts of the Queen's body that have been exposed to sun and those parts that haven’t, that it looks like she’s wearing a bikini top when she’s totally naked.
- Mama took a dump in everyone’s bathroom and figured out that Brrrrr & Cherry’s room had the best flush. She didn’t light a match afterwards.
- Two-tone Chardonnay is a blend of two different wines in your glass…not two different colors.
- Radiation Laser Tag: Play at your own risk
- If you put two quarters on the floor so you can dance around them during 50 Cent songs, Mama might try to sneak them right off the floor.

AlBERTO’S… THE DRIVE-THRU TACO STAND THAT LOOKS LIKE A BARN
- The menu board suggests that the plural of egg is EGG’S with an apostrophe-S… not just a regular S slapped on the end of the word. Hmmm.
- Also, their soft drink options include Coke, Diet Coke, and ESPRITE
- And how about that tip jar on the ledge of the drive-up window??? Brilliant, yes? If I had it to do over again, I would totally put a tip jar out on the ledge when I worked the drive-thru at Golden Fried Chicken in high school.

NAME CHANGES:
- GoCS calls Pinot Grigio PINOT GEORGIO
- Cherry calls Rancho Penasquitos Parkway (near our hotel in Poway) RANCHO MOSQUITOS PKWY
- We all pronounce Poway /PO-Way/ …but apparently it is supposed to be pronounced /POW-WAY/… we don’t care.
- We are all “Po-Didddys” now… and each of us shall begin referring to our personal diddy bag as a PO-DIDDY BAG.
- If you are “jones-ing” for something, it means you have a “hankering” or a “craving” or a desire for something.
- If you are “fixin” to do something, it means you aren’t really doing anything YET, but you are getting ready to do something soon.

ONE LINERS:
- Mama needs some shade… Mama needs to sit down… Mama needs food… Mama needs…fill in the blank.
- I think I just farted.
- I think Luke just farted.
- Back off ladies… she’s all mine!
- I’m going to pee myself.
- Can you not see how dead that horse is?
- Is there beer in your fridge?
- My drink is broken
- Gav, pull over, I have to puke
- I’m fixin’ to fart.
- Porchelin tires.
- Quick, give me my inhaler
- Marcia Brady, Mar-Mar-cia Brady.... (Courtesy of Moxie Cheerleaders)
- Fly, Monkeys, Fly…
- This shit is bananas

Life for Rent...Twice the Price

Wow...two entries in one day...again.

How messed up is this? I wanted to listen to my Dido CD on the way to work this morning. I couldn’t recall if I had ripped that one onto my iPod yet or not. (I love my iPod, it’s the coolest thing ever – but don’t get me started on the closed file format – wake up, Steve Jobs.) I check my iPod and I haven’t added it yet so I figure I’ll just grab the CD, blow the cobwebs out of my car stereo and revert to this archaic style of listening. No worries, I’m not so much of a technology snob that I don’t still listen to CDs....and there aren't really cobwebs in my car stereo.

Now, all my CDs (about 2000) are well arranged, in alphabetical order, downstairs in the family room…and I go right past them every morning on my way out. Easy enough…I’ll grab the CD and be on my way. It’s not there. Damn it. Where the hell is it?

I’ve been copying a LOT of CDs to my iPod so there’s a good chance that it’s in the To Be Done pile in my office…which used to be a walk-up attic and is 3 floors up from the family room. So I go all the way upstairs and look…not there. Damn it again. At this point, I’m still lugging my laptop and purse around on my shoulder. Okay, back down I go…quick check in the TV cabinet, just in case…not there. Damn it for the third time.

There’s a small stack of CDs that need to be re-filed…I really need a file clerk or librarian or something. Check through that stack…not there and now I’ve moved from “damn it!” to “fuck!”. Where the HELL is it? Maybe I missed it in the stack upstairs. I’m winded so I put my laptop case and purse on the floor and sprint back upstairs. It’s not there…and I carefully looked this time. I give up. I have to get to work. I do find a Dido song on a mix CD in my car so that has to suffice. But I am jonesing for the “Life for Rent” CD.

I finally just buy it from iTunes so I can listen during the day. Now I’ve paid for it twice. And I’ll bet a dollar that I find it when I get home, snug in the ‘D’ section of my CDs.

I think my cat probably hid it. It wouldn’t be the first time.

As an aside…this is the symbol for my cat, Einstein. ^..^-7 In case it’s hard to decipher, it’s in profile but he’s looking at you. So, the symbol equals ear, eye, eye, ear, body, tail. Why the bent tail? Because he was born with a tail that didn’t finish forming, so it’s bent. That was added, courtesy of T.

"...nothing I have is truly mine..."

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Mommy Deerest

Christopher Columbus was a sonofabitch. I just started reading Howard Zinn’s “A People’s History of the United States”. While I knew that finding the New World wasn’t all Tootsie Rolls and Etch-a-Sketch contests, I had no idea the horror inflicted upon these poor people. Just the first few pages will turn your stomach. This is the same book that Matt Damon’s character refers to in “Good Will Hunting”. When I’m done here, I’m going to sort laundry and then read some more.

***

Okay, we’re back to the deer. I know, you’re sick of this subject, but I haven’t talked about them in weeks! And it's my blog so too bad. Plus, they are in my back yard! Let me first explain the strange picture. The arrow is pointing the grill. The picture of the deer, obviously, is pasted into the picture of my backyard. Last week, I went out the back door to throw a steak on the grill and this little toddler deer was standing right next to my grill. I was so startled, I went back inside, as if I was the intruder. (His or her mother was out further, in the neighbor’s yard.) After about 20 minutes, I was hungry and had to go back out and s/he ran away. But not before I got a really bad picture – the flash bounced off the glass in the window of the back door.

So, tonight, I glance out the window and they’re back…the same ones! At first, they're over in the neighbor's yard again...that must be the magical portal to and from the trees. I'm not sure why they like my grass so much because my yard looks like shit (this is my first spring/summer in this house so it's not my fault). So I got the camera, opened an upstairs window and planted myself there…waiting for the deer to come over to the grill again. I sat there for a while, too. The toddler deer got to within about 20 feet and something scared them and off they went. The mother deer never actually comes over to the grill...maybe she prefers the microwave. However, I sat there long enough to feel justified in pasting this picture together. I actually got a picture of the REAL deer near a tree off to the left of the grill (you can see the leaves in the top left corner), but when I pasted it in, it’s even worse then this one. So…you get this monstrosity. The paste-a-deer is in the same spot as when I happened upon it the first night. THAT’S how close it was!

It was so quiet for a while, I could hear her/him chewing and I thought to myself, “Awww…how cute, how serene, how Mother Naturely." (not a word, I know).

Then it pooped in my yard. Twice.

It’s okay, I have to cut the grass anyway.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Book Report

one last thing...

"Freakonomics" - GREAT book!!! FIVE big, fat, bright stars!!!

Your Nearest Emergency Exit May Be Behind You

Blog 2 of 2 for Monday evening...

My job requires me to travel quite a bit. Not as much as it used to but still quite a bit. I try to be a very patient traveler because I know there are a lot of people out there who don’t travel a lot or get very nervous when they do have to travel. I understand this. I’m a compassionate person. However, there are some simple courtesies that should not be tethered to how often or how comfortable one might be with traveling. Those who do not realize and/or exercise a respectable level of common sense when traveling frustrate me to no end. I am convinced that the I.Q. of airline passengers drops by at least 20 points once they have boarded the plane.

If you would tolerate a few examples, I will illustrate the type of travelers who especially try my patience.

1. Those high flying pseudo-techies who send a text message during boarding that reads “I’m on the plane.” Then, 3 minutes later, call the same person and ask “Did you get my text message? Yeah, I’m on the plane. I’ll call you when I land.” (I actually witnessed this by spying through the crack in the seats ahead of me.) These, of course, are the same folks who turn on their cell phones the moment the wheels touch the ground and call someone to say “Hey. Yeah. We just landed.” If you have to call someone the moment you land, the only words that should come out of your mouth are “How did the operation go?” or “Is it a boy or a girl?” Everything else is unreasonable and can wait another 5 minutes until you are actually in the gangway. If you are so needed at home that you have to report your every movement, just stay at home. It will give me more room for my luggage.

2. The people who take off their shoes for a 1 hour flight – in the evening. 1 hour! Want to take off your shoes for an 8 hour overseas flight? Fine, I do it, too. I’ll even concede a 6 hour flight if it’s early enough in the day. But 1 hour?! And they were loafers! How uncomfortable can they be? If your shoes do happen to be that uncomfortable, just slip your heels out for some relief and preserve the recycled air for the rest of us. And under no circumstances should you cross your ankle over your knee without shoes on! No, no, no!

The only redeeming point about the whole episode was watching this guy trying to shove his altitude swelled feet back into his shoes when we landed. You really need to start that exercise at least 10 minutes before touchdown…usually at the point where you put your tray table up. The flight attendants should just make that part of the announcement. “In preparation for landing, please return your seatbacks and tray tables to their upright and locked positions….and start working your feet back into your shoes.”

3. Anyone who takes more than 1 minute to sit down while boarding. These are the same yammer heads who can’t waste 2 ½ minutes of their lives to listen to the safety instructions. Instead, they insist on talking to their seat mate the entire time about how long it’s been since they’ve been on a plane. They will, invariably, be the people who screw things up in the event of an emergency landing. I want to use my seat-slash-floatation device to pound them over the head.

4. People who don’t know how to use their arms to support their own body weight when they sit down and feel the need to hang on the back of my seat, causing me severe whiplash when they let go. I’ve noticed that they closely resemble the people who can’t walk down the aisle without clinging to every seat they pass. You need to use the seats as a guide? I absolutely understand. The key words here are “as a GUIDE”. The seats are not your personal hand rail on which to hang and swing…some people might be sleeping. Use care in this task. And when you do throw some weary traveler halfway to the front of the plane, apologize for cryin’ out loud.

5. The couch potatoes who slam their seat all the way into the recline position the moment the wheels leave the tarmac. This is not your home and your seat is not a La-Z-Boy. I find it very difficult to work on my laptop when my keyboard is buried in my spleen, thankyouverymuch. Besides, I noticed when you loped onto the plane that you slouch, so you really should just sit up straight. (BTW – while discussing this point with friends, they pointed out that it is mostly men who do this. I must say that I concur.)

6. The folks who cough, sneeze or yawn and can’t be bothered to lift hand to mouth. I suspect that these might be the same people who don’t know how to use their arms. It would make sense.

7. The truancy club members who board late with one bag and insist on jamming it into an overhead compartment that is clearly full…taking up even more time. (And I know it’s not always their fault, I sincerely empathize with the ones running from plane to plane and this is not directed at them.) I realize that the Luggage Jammers (is that a rap group?) are trying to save the room under their seat for their empty shoes. They are only elevated in status by my contempt for the ones who take up two overhead luggage spots with their full size, packed to the hilt, wheely luggage. This is why the plane has an underbelly…use it. If you don’t want to trust your luggage in the underbelly, maybe YOU should just sit down there. If it’s good enough for dogs, it’s good enough for you.

8. The chatterboxes who must talk to me so they can tell me how interesting they are…not because they want to find out how interesting I might be. Yes, it makes me vain but it makes them rude. I’d rather be vain.

9. And, lest we forget, the smelly people.

I love, however, people who do know how to travel. They know the rules. They are not the people described above. They do not require water wings in the gene pool.

The plane should not be separated into first class and coach. It should be separated into “travelers who do know what they’re doing” and “travelers who don’t know what they’re doing”. The second group should have to sit in the back and board from the rear. (Why don’t we use the rear door to board?)

This just might have been how first class started. There were two distinct groups – travelers who do and don’t know what they’re doing - but the second group outnumbered the first group and made it complicated. And, of course, when something is complicated, society rules that we must apply fees in order to sort it out. Hence you now must pay more to prove your travel capabilities and escape the torture called coach.

Flight Attendants, arm doors for departure and cross-check.

Fortune Cookie Monster

I was all set to post something about my week in Poway OR air travel. However, I couldn't resist writing this instead for 2 reasons:

1. I have a working list of things that come to mind that I want to blog about. One of the things on there - for real - is fortune cookies and how they really aren't always fortunes.
2. Iced Tea NOT Coke then mentioned something exactly like this in her most recent post. I'm calling it kismit (I was going to call it Dave) and decided I had to write about this subject first, in order to make it timely with ITNC.

ITNC said that her fortune cookie had no fortune in it. I think when I first read it, I thought she meant that there was a slip of paper in it but it was just a statement of fact, not a fortune…which happens more and more often from what I can surmise. I now think that there was no slip of paper in it at all and I can’t call that kismet or Dave….just freaky.

Since I missed SO much last week, I think I'll post twice this evening and let the air travel rant escape from that literary prison called Drafts. For now...onto non-fortune cookies. I looked up 'fortune' in the dictionary. Look out! Incoming tangent!!!

****
I LOVE my dictionary! If it weren't so bizarre, I would just read the dictionary. And for as much as I love my dictionary I love my thesaurus even more (btw - there is no synonym for thesaurus or synonym). I think a thesaurus might be the best reference book ever created. I use mine constantly.
****

Okay...the New Oxford Dictionary (sorry, Mr. Webster is in my office at work), defines "fortune" as: n. chance or luck as an external, arbitrary force affecting human affairs. The thesaurus also uses the terms "accident, coincidence, contingency, serendipity, providence" and several iterations of chance (happy chance, mere chance, Sir Chancelot - is that a rap group?).

A fortune cookie is defined as: n. a thin folded cookie containing a slip of paper with a prediction or motto written on it, served in Chinese restaurants.

To be honest, I don’t get the motto part…is that like “Bounty, the quicker, picker-upper”? Or “Live long and prosper”? If anyone gets a motto in their fortune cookie, I'd like to hear about it.

Some REAL fortunes I have received in the past include:

"You will be unusually successful in business."
"You will travel to many places."
"You can prosper in the field of medical research."
"A hot, funny, intelligent woman is a certainty in your future." (Yeah, I made that one up but I'm pretty confident about it anyway.)

I like these fortunes, I’ve kept them. They are REAL fortunes…they predict chance, coincidence, luck, serendipity, etc. There is not a motto amongst them, however, and I’m okay with that. Quite frankly, if I opened up a fortune cookie and the slip of paper said “Semper Fidelis”, I’d be a little scared.

Here are some examples of non-fortunes that I’ve received:

“Your mentality is alert, practical and analytical.”
“You are a person of culture.”
“Generosity and perfection are your everlasting goals.”
“You are a hot, funny, intelligent woman with a future.” (Isn’t that WEIRD that I got something like that twice? Yeah, I thought so, too.)

Whilst these non-fortunes are DEAD ON in their descriptions, they are not, in fact, fortunes. I can’t believe that the universe has indeed run out of predictions for individuals of the human race - so I am forced to deduce that the fortune cookie manufacturers don’t understand what a fortune is or they are just lazy.

I found this manufacturer online. http://www.wontonfood.com/ You can actually order your custom fortune cookies…what has the world come to?

If you are interested in the history of the fortune cookie, look here. http://www.infoplease.com/spot/fortunecookies.html I’ll warn you, though, it’s not as exciting as you might think….but it is slightly interesting.

I don’t know what to tell ITNC. I think I would start carrying a back-up cookie for such emergencies.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Ta-MAY-to, Ta-MAH-to.

So we, the Flying Monkeys softball team of Philadelphia, are in beautiful San Diego for the World Series…Poway, to be exact. And, now that we’re here, we know that we’ve been pronouncing it incorrectly. We’ve been saying POE-way. Come to find out it’s POW-way. As in Wow and Cow. We’ve decided that we don’t care and we like Poe-way better. So we just keep saying it wrong. Who cares? Our pronunciation adds character….plus we can keep being Po-Diddies.

What’s a little sad is that I grew up in a place called Towson. It’s in Maryland. It’s pronounced like Cow-son. I hear people call it TOE-son all the time and I always wonder how they could mess it up. Now I know.

Unfortunately, so far, we’ve lost our first two games…round robin games but they still make an impact. They were both close games and very good games. We have one more round robin tomorrow and then the real fun starts with the double elim rounds. We’re having a GREAT time though!! One of our awesome pick-up players won the Wet Boxer contest last night at a women’s club (the only one left in San Diego) called 6 Degrees. One of our other regular players came in second in the Wet T-Shirt contest. If the contest was really judged on loudness of the audience, our gal would have won for sure. I must admit, thought, the winner did have great ta-tas. They were even real. Come to find out, however, that she's straight...and participating in a lesbian sanctioned event! It's almost akin to Barbra Streisand making a Christmas album. (Don't get me wrong, I love Babs and have her Christmas album....but it is a LITTLE odd.) We all agreed, however…Ta-Tas didn’t NOT deserve to win…but we wanted OUR girl to win! And, as far as we’re concerned, she did. Congrats to N and K!!!!

I’ve also included a picture (with permission from the subject) of Sandi…a team member, mother-to-be, resident cheerleader and hip-hop diva…as evidence in the picture provides. She was dancing to Gwen Stefani and one of our favorite team lyrics, “this shit is bananas…B-A-N-A-N-A-S…” We ARE the Monkeys, after all. Sandi also fashioned a new fight song for us, borrowing from the Iggles fight song. It goes: (and I might not have these EXACTLY right)

Fly, Monkeys, Fly
On the road to victory
Fly, Monkeys, Fly
Get ‘em out now 1, 2, 3…

Hit ‘em low
Hit ‘em far
And let's get to the bar

Fly, Monkeys, Fly
On the road to victory
M-O-N-K-E-Y-S

Tomorrow we start very early so it sounds like it will be a quiet night…drinking around the pool for a bit before we head off to rest our weary party heads.

For now, however, I’m going out to practice parking my rented pseudo SUV (a Chrysler Pacifica)….if you’re a little confused about that, check out Iced Tea Not Coke’s post from a couple days ago.

BTW – I keep seeing the KitKat commercial with Carrie Underwood on it. Ms. Underwood, as you may recall, was the most recent American Idol. On the commercial, however, they have to put her name on there because, let’s face, she’s not really famous yet. So doesn’t that make the term ‘celebrity endorsement’ an oxymoron in this example? If you have to tell people who the famous person is, how famous can s/he be? And if s/he isn’t that famous, how much of an endorsement is it? “Hey, can’t wait to get a KitKat, Carrie Underwood eats them ALL the time!” vs. “I like KitKats and all, but who the hell is Carrie Underwood?”

Friday, August 12, 2005

Back from the Gutter...

I realize that the subject matter of the past couple days hasn’t been something that would be printed in the Sunday bulletins at most churches. Yes, I can be a trashy little tramp as well as the next person…I believe most folks have that persona lurking about beneath the surface. After a while, of course, you strain your neck looking up from the gutter for so long. So I hitched a ride on a soda can until it hit a grate and flung me back onto the street. Now I can discuss more appropriate subject matter again. Plus, I was reading People magazine last night and a couple things struck me.

The issue was about Peter Jennings – very sad. There was also an article about Dana Reeves….Superman’s wife. She just announced that she has lung cancer. Also very sad – you’d think this woman could catch a break. In a side column, there was information about women and lung cancer. According to People (reputable medical journal that it is), lung cancer is the leading cause of death for women when it comes to cancers. I knew heart disease was the leading killer of women in general and thought that breast cancer was the leading cancer killer. Not so. Lung cancer kills more women then breast and ovarian cancer combined. I had no idea and I wonder who else doesn’t know this.

What’s more, it’s not even smokers who are most affected – which is what I first suspected and that made sense to me. Most of these women don’t smoke. The reasons this article gave for the number of non-smokers being so large are: smaller lungs in women, genetics and second hand smoke. Also, doctors are often not as quick to act when an abnormal x-ray comes back for a non-smoker. I find this disturbing, to say the least. When middle phase lung cancer is discovered in women, most don’t live more then 2 years. 2 years!

I used to be in pretty good health. I ate well, I worked out like a fiend and generally took care of myself. I’m the first to admit that I’ve been neglecting my health for the past couple years when I was going through a lot of stressful things in my personal life….of course, that’s the WORST time to neglect your health. But I did. I’m making a lame effort at returning to the gym and need to step that up a bit.

I’m going to talk to my doctor about the types of early screenings available for both lung cancer and heart disease and try to find out more. If anyone has information they want to share, please do.

Oh…another news flash from People….Brad and Angelina kissed in public. I was so shocked. I thought they were just friends.

And I promised myself that I wasn’t going to contribute to the T.O. circus anymore, but someone else brought it up this morning…namely, the girl who sprays my house every quarter for bugs/mice/termites/squatters. She came by this morning. While I was putting on my make-up, she and her cool spray wand pump container thingy (I love that thing) wandered into my pseudo-office and saw my copy of T.O.s book. I bought it last year when I still had some respect for him and haven’t actually read it yet…so it’s in the stack of books yet to be read. She asked what I thought of the whole situation and we ranted about it for several minutes. I am REALLY sick of seeing him and his Jerry McQuire-wannabe agent on the television. For a guy who says he’s not commenting on the situation, he sure has a lot to say.

Well, enough of that. Time for my morning exercise. Since I’m not at home and can’t workout in my driveway, I’ll just go into the hall outside my office and pump iron. If that gets boring, I’ll move to the parking lot.

ASS.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Research Opportunity

I had a couple comments (verbal, not posted) re: yesterday’s entry and, specifically, the research needed to prove/disprove the claims being made about pineapples. I gave this some more thought on my drive in today and provide below more detailed information by way of an FAQ (Frequently Asked Questions), developed by the National Institute for She-She Health (NISSH).

1. Q: How do I get involved in the research?
A: Given the sensitivities of this study and the discretion required, NISSH will develop a confidential application procedure. All applicants and their lab partners must fill out the brief application.

2. Q: Can I apply as a single applicant?
A: No. NISSH requires lab partners to be found through independent means, in order to avoid involvement in drama, cattiness, rejection and general ballyhoo amongst lab teams. Lab partners will not be assigned by NISSH.

3. Q: Is there grant money available?
A: After careful consideration of the nature of the study, NISSH has agreed to a limited grant structure. In order to support the individual effort of finding a lab partner, NISSH will consider requests for grant monies for those applicants who can prove hardship. Grant monies will be distributed in the form of a one-time, general “date stipend” that may be applied to drinks, dinner and a movie. *Restrictions apply.

*Grant monies may not be applied to RubyBeniHouliDays establishments. Grant monies also may not be applied to “The Dukes Of Hazard” and most Tom Cruise movies. NISSH feels that typical “date movies”, such as “Must Love Dogs” increase the probability of securing a lab partner. Grant monies are not availalbe for U-Haul rentals.

4. Q: Will I be paid for participating in this study?
A: Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not as though we’re asking you to donate a kidney. NISSH feels that the study itself is reward enough.

5. Q: How will results be reported?
A: NISSH has NO interest in an “open lab” environment. Results will be recorded via log books that are available in hard copy or online at http://www.nisshresearch.com/. All results are confidential and anonymous…do not brag, give details or tell us who you are!

6. Q: Will I receive a copy of the results?
A: You and half the world, yes.

No animals will be harmed during the execution of this study.

In other news….

A big HAPPY BIRFDAY wish to my friend, who goes by the alias Retired Dream Spirit. (THAT is a story in itself and perhaps I can convince RDS to be a guest blogger one day.) Here’s wishing you a GREAT day!!

Dear T.O. – Shut up. Dry your crybaby tears. Put your diva boa back in the closet. Play ball. Oh...and brush up on the definition of the word "contract" before you sign one, Bonehead.

And last, but certainly not least, a fond and heartfelt farewell to Peter Jennings. :(

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Pineapple, blow-up cops and thou...

Last night and this morning were full of all good and fun things. I feel like I’m living in a 1950’s sitcom, where the worst thing that happens is getting your neighbors mail by mistake and having to decide to just put it in their mailbox or ring the doorbell and hand it to them.

I had dinner with friends last night at Tavern on Camac. It was really awesome to see everyone and the conversation was as interesting as ever. We touched on the following subjects:

· Our periods, of course. (When you get 5 women together, it’s bound to come up.) It quickly segued into…
· How pineapple can impact your sex life…and it’s in a good way. I’m not sure just how detailed I can get here so I will try to be a little…oh the hell with it…pineapple makes your she-she taste sweet. (And asparagus does not.) I just HAD to research this a little further and found a reference online in Sister to Sister Magazine. These folks got into this subject! One entry gave the impression that the pineapple rumor is just that, a rumor. So, further research needed there. However, these folks were VERY adamant about the fact that pork, like asparagus, is also a no-no. (BTW, the whole thing started around this rumor that a female rap star was so bad that a guy she was with passed out from the stench.) ANYWAY…. It was a fascinating conversation last night, nonetheless, and has now produced what will probably be the crudest post I will ever make. However, ladies, there is helpful material here. If someone ever asks you if you like pineapple, it might be clear indication of what that person wants. So let’s review. Pineapple (and we think it has to be the fruit, not juice, snow cones, milkshakes or Fruit Roll-Ups)…good. Asparagus and pork…bad. God, can you imagine if you had them at the same time? Onward….

Other topics included:
· This freak bitch that our friend works with who is trying to make her look really bad at work and get her fired. It won’t work but it’s ridiculous that she has to put up with it at all.
· The fact that the average I.Q. drops about 20 points when someone boards a plane. This really deserves its own entry and I know I have spewed about this in email before so I will find that and freshen it up. Watch this space.
· Stupid drivers. You know who you are!!! (Unfortunately, none of them are reading this, they are out being general menaces on the Schuylkill.) My friend D refers to me as “the angriest driver I know”. And last night I discovered I have a kindred spirit in the same friend who has to work with Freak Bitch. This, too, deserves its own special space so there will be more on that in the future. And I don’t think I’m angry….I prefer the term “expressive”.
· And quite possibly the scariest damn topic I have ever discussed….plastic surgery for “girl parts”…or “labiaplasty”, “vaginoplasty” and “hymenoplasty”. That last one sounds like a name for industrial strength glue. I picture a guy in a hard hat, swinging from a metal beam. I’m not making this stuff up….check it out. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

http://www.cosmeticsurgery2.com/cs-female1.htm

I get to see all but one of these friends again next week. We will all be in California for the NAGAAA World Series (softball). We are going to Poway. I know, I thought someone made up the name, too, but it’s a real town. I even found it on a map. We were talking about this several weeks ago and trying to decide what these folks might be called…Powhites? Powinians? Poliputians? Po-Diddies? We decided we will be Po-Diddies and that quickly morphed into Po-Titties. I have no doubt that there will be plenty of commentary and pictures from next week as we ‘do’ Poway.

This morning continued to be wonderful. On my way to work I saw a family of deer…three little babies with their cute white spots and their parents. They were peacefully eating grass under a tree at a very safe distance from the road. I wanted to stop and hug them.

Shortly thereafter, I went screaming by the Turnpike building and saw a police car sitting in the driveway. I hoped for a minute that it was one of the blow-up cops that they sit in the cars just to slow people down. Then I saw him pull out and I don’t think the blow-up cops can do that. Someone was on my side this morning and he never came after me.

All in all, a great evening and morning…let’s hope it continues right through the day!

And my gas light came on this morning….that is neither good nor bad….just an update.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Send Lawyers, Guns and Money

Comcast. Need I say more? (Of course, I will say more.)

The people at Comcast have one job: Provide a strong, clear, CONSISTENT signal to my home. Wait, they have two jobs.

After providing that signal, bill me a small king’s ransom for it. (Is it called a small king’s ransom because of his stature or because it’s a small province over which he rules?) Anyway....

They are very capable at the second. My bill comes right on time, right to my mailbox, with a new charge built in whenever possible. I'm waiting for the day when they charge you for having a power button on the remote. The training program for the billing department must be stellar. Not so for the department that provides the actual signal.

I had some down time on Saturday…which is a rare occurrence….and decided to relax and see what movies were available via On Demand. Lo and behold, “The Natural” was on the list. Being such a good movie, I settled in to watch. Throughout the movie, there were these little pockets of signal breakups – the picture would be all broken up and appear as though it was underwater. Sometimes it would just be black. Fortunately, I’d seen the movie before and could follow along. That happened on and off for a bit and then seemed to settle down.

What I really couldn’t deal with was when it happened again at the end of the movie. I mean, c’mon! It’s the big dramatic, unpredictable finale! The entire game was on the line and it was so uncertain whether Roy Hobbs/Robert Redford was going to save the day or not. Who could have seen the bottom-of-the-ninth, two-outs, winning-run-at-the-plate, full-count scenario coming? Nonetheless, I could not have been angrier when the cable picked that moment to throw a fit. I missed the entire scene….the Wonderboy bat breaking, the heartfelt part where the bat boy brings out his homegrown bat for Roy, the ball hitting the lights and Roy running the bases amidst a shower of sparks. I was ready to throw the remote through the television. I even missed the part where Glenn Close, Roy and their little bastard son are on the farm, playing catch.

I can’t even count the number of times I’ve been trying to catch up on QAF or The L Word and the same thing has happened. It’s just infuriating.

I am so sick of being held hostage by the damn cable company who can’t even competently perform the one function on which they built their organization. And they KNOW they’ve got us. I have nothing in the way of a solution for this….satellite is not a solution in my book. So, I’m looking for suggestions.

I think it’s time to get rid of digital cable. The one thing I will really miss is the blue band on the bottom that tells you what is playing on that channel….it makes surfing very efficient. They should just sell that as a separate feature…I’d pay for that.

So as not make this a complete whine fest, I will add that the rest of my weekend was terrific. I even bought a grill. My friend, KB, calls it a “penis grill” because it has side burners and a drawer and 60,000 BTUs. It runs neither on natural gas or propane, but is powered by a big conister of testosterone. I love it. I even bought a cover for it….a grill condom, if you will.

The next time I see a Comcast techno-weenie in the neighborhood, I’m going to mow him down with my grill.

Friday, August 05, 2005

The Grass is Always....Hmmm.

Like so many people out there, I LOVE animals. It’s almost a sickness. Once, in trying to rescue a spider, I ended up killing the poor thing. I vowed then to never interfere with Mother Nature again. I did anyway, trying to save a baby cricket from my cat, Einstein. That time I succeeded. Of course I have friends who make fun of me because, after all, they are just insects. "It's not like the have feelings."

I just don’t see them that way. Recall the IKEA commercial about the red lamp? (Yes, an odd segue, but it will all make sense soon.) Click on the title of this post if you want to view the commercial.

A woman in a rather IKEA-looking apartment unplugs a little red lamp. She hauls it outside, where the weather is windy and wintry, and leaves it on the sidewalk, with the trash, as pitiful music plays. The lamp looks oddly human. As it starts to rain, the lamp seems sad and pitiful, particularly because we can see the woman in her warm apartment above, enjoying the company of a new lamp. Viewers see through the eyes of the lamp, which mourns its demise while a spiffy replacement glows in the window. This goes on for a while. Eventually you want to weep. Right then a man appears out of the darkness and addresses the camera in a silly-sounding Nordic accent. "Many of you feel bad for this lamp," he says, as the rain soaks him. "That is because you're crazy. It has no feelings! And the new one is much better." He departs. The ad ends with the IKEA logo.

Did you notice that the lamp is standing straight up at the beginning of the spot but it’s looking down at the end? Yes, I almost cried, too. And I was one of the people who felt sorry for the lamp. So you kinda get the idea.

This brings me to the deer on the PA Turnpike (back to that topic again). I’m VERY concerned about them. They get WAY too close to the road in the morning when they are eating. And I really don’t understand why. There is plenty of grass between the road and the fence that they come through. Why can’t they eat that? It does beg the question of how animals know the good grass from the bad grass. It makes sense to me that the mums in my garden at home taste better then grass (which is why they keep eating them, bad deer!)….but what differentiates good grass from bad…especially grass along the Turnpike where the stuff closest to the road has all the soot, smog and road grime on it? It’s madness, I tell you. I wonder if it has anything to do with people peeing on the side of the road. They don't pee right near the edge of the highway, they go back off the road a bit. Might be onto something there.

As you can tell, this bothers me a great deal. The adult deer are teaching the little baby deer bad habits. To me, it’s like a parent teaching a child to cross the street without looking – and why would anyone do that?

Now these deer in the picture are wandering safely in Valley Forge Park, where they should be. I don’t know how to communicate with these let’s-throw-caution-to-the-wind deer who stand right next to the highway. I’m reduced to screaming at them each morning as I drive by, “Get back from the road, you silly animals, you’re going to get hurt!” If they are behaving and eating a safe distance from the road, I just say good morning to them.

Life on the Turnpike, it’s more involved then you thought.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Blogger NOT Frogger

I sent a message to a very select, very small number of friends this afternoon, informing them of my blog…just in case they had the slightest level of interest.

After work, I was talking with my friend, JoJo, who was on the email. The following conversation snippet ensued:

JoJo: “I got your email. What is this blog thing about?”
Cherry (me): “Just something I thought would be fun.”
JoJo: “Yeah, but what is it?”
C: “An online log.”
J: “Like a video game? Is it like PlayStation online?” (huh?)
C: (I stop to stare at my cell, very confused). “No, it’s a web log.”
J: “Then how do you play? What are the rules?”
C: “You don’t PLAY. It’s not a GAME. It’s like taking your diary, ripping out a page that you don’t mind sharing, and posting it on the web.”
J: “Ohhhhh. So, it’s like that Dragon Realms thing you did.”
C: “No. It’s not a game. THAT was an online game. It was role-playing.”
J: “Yeah, I don’t know what that means. What was your character’s name again?”
C: “Aldin.”
J: “Right. Why was your character a boy?”
C: (sighs) “It’s more challenging role play. But that’s not a blog.”
J: “Are there teams?”
C: “What? No. You can have multiple people posting to your blog but they aren’t a ‘team’.” (sighs again)
J: “Gotcha. So how do you win?”
C: “What? God. You don’t…never mind…” (clearly defeated) “Okay. The person who creates the most posts during the day wins.”
J: “How many times do you do a post during the day?”
C: “Usually once.”
J: “Well you’ll never win that way.”
C: (sighs yet again)

She’s probably right.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

My drive to work is 95% PA Turnpike…a whole topic unto itself that I will tackle on another day (it might even be a 2 day topic). Whilst driving I listen to the radio, of course. This morning I heard a commercial for a Hair Removal Clinic/Lab/Buffet – I don’t know what it was called. You would think that it is enough of a selling point to simply tell people that if they don’t want their hair, here’s a solution for you. Call this number and life as you know it changes forever. Of course, that’s not the case and it is the nature of the advertising world to exaggerate and oversell most things….except ice cream, that sells itself. (Really, why are commercials for ice cream even necessary?)

In my selective hearing process, I catch the words “hair removal”, “pain free” (right!), “pennies a day” (I made that one up) – you get the idea. I wasn’t really listening. But then!!...a woman, presumably a client, starts yammering about how great this is. The next words out of her mouth completely flabbergast me.

“I used to spend HOURS a week shaving in the shower…”

HOURS?!! What on Earth is she shaving?! Let’s break this down. At the very most, if you’re being very, very careful and very, very thorough (probably because you think you’re getting lucky that day/evening), it takes a woman approximately 10 minutes to shave. I believe this is a fair calculation. All the women I’ve spoken to about shaving – and when I say all, I mean 5 (maybe) – say it takes 5 to 10 minutes. And I’m no exception...even when I’m prepping for a night of sex. If you shave every day of the week…that’s 70 minutes….just over an hour. Is this woman shaving her head every day? Hours? Really?!

The very thought of what she is doing with that razor scares the bejeezus out of me.

In the end, the commercial did its job; I can’t stop thinking about this Hair Removal place. I’m not thinking about it because I want to become a client. I just can’t stop thinking about these poor women who, for some unknown reason, are spending hours a week shaving. Maybe they are shaving their pets at the same time. I really can’t comprehend what they’re doing….and I’m not sure I want to.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Miss Manners Meets the Blog

This is probably the hardest post to write. The first one. You want it to be clever and witty - just in case someone actually does read it. I'd like to avoid even saying it's the first post...but I already blew that. I also don't want to sound like a contestant on "The Dating Game": "Hi, my name is Ringo, I'm 24 and live in Toledo. In my spare time I enjoy dismantling tricycles and creating art from the pieces. And I found God." (Most of us didn't know he was missing.)

Since this is my first posting to a blog, I wanted to make sure I had some semblance of what I was doing and what all the unpublished rules of etiquette were. So I did some research on blog etiquette. What I found out was:

- don't talk about your job or you could get fired
- don't talk about politics or you could be deported (no actual cases of this happening, purely conjecture)
- don't discuss your friends unless you are okay with them reading about themselves
- don't use people's names (people that you know) unless they are okay with it

This leaves me with my life and the recipe for my grandmother's cheese pie (right...pie, not cake). And I can't even post that because it's a family recipe and I risk being disowned. (Not kidding about that.)

I told a friend today that I was going to try this blog thing. Not really because I have anything useful to say, just because I like to babble in the written form. I like to babble verbally, too, but I like it more in the written form. I decided that the most difficult part was naming it. Hence the porn star name. I also thought about just calling it Dave the Blog and being done with it. As I told my friend, whenever I have to name an inanimate object, it ends up being called Dave. I don't know why. It started with a ceramic garden pig that someone gave me for my 30th birthday. It needed a name. It got Dave.

Thus ends my first attempt at a blog post. I will, of course, try to respect the appropriate etiquette....I am worried, however, that I already messed that up with the name. We shall see if the blog police come after me.

Cherry Indigo