My friends, I live. It was touch and go there for a while...but I have pulled through and am reasonably confident the good Lord has released me from the grips of death, otherwise known as the flu.
Oh, it was bad. I haven't been that sick in years. There was one night that I seriously considered calling someone to take me to the emergency room. I don't think I've ever had the flu before (if I did, it was as a child). I never want to have it again. From now on I will be among the first in line to get the flu shot.
By Saturday morning, I could tell I was returning to the land of the living. I had gone five days without drinking coffee (that's how you know I was REALLY sick). I got up and thought to myself "Self, I think I want some coffee."
I went into the kitchen (which hadn't been used in more than a week) and pulled the carafe off the coffeemaker to fill it with water. As I went to place it back on the burner, I jumped back and screamed. My eyes were met with the most appalling sight...there was a NEST of roaches in my coffee maker! A whole cluster...a gaggle of them, if you will. The vile creatures invaded not only the sanctity of my home, but they even entered the Holy of Holies...my brand-new coffee maker! You can mess with me, but don't mess with my coffee! I grabbed paper towels, crushed the vermin and immediately called an exterminator.
And so began my reentry to normal life. It was a rude awakening. I hope to have happier updates for you from now on...but let's be honest...January hasn't been the best of months so far. Here's to February sucking less.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The End of the Story (I hope)
Sorry for keeping you all in suspense on the status of my car-drama. I moved over the weekend (another reason the car nightmare was horribly timed) and don't yet have access to the internet at my new casa (more to come on the house in a future post).
The dealership did, in fact, deliver my car to me on Thursday evening. I received no further communication from them until I emailed the head manager of the entire dealership to tell him about the horrible customer service I received at his business. I pasted my entire blog entries into the email and told him I would never do business with his company again.
Here's his response, which I will post without adding any commentary of my own. Draw your own conclusions.
"Mrs. Johnson,
My apologies for the service you received at Momentum Mini. In most instances such as these I am informed by our clients so that I may have an opportunity to assist in the service however you did not allow me that courtesy. I find it very disheartening that you will be posting and blogging about one single incident here at our location which is hardly fair I believe. We service over 200 vehicles a day and have a great reputation in our service department which is reflected in our customer satisfaction surveys. However we regret that you will be taking your Mini to other locations for service, the other two locations are great facilities.
Respectfully,
Monty Meave
Dealer Operator
Momentum BMW/Mini
The dealership did, in fact, deliver my car to me on Thursday evening. I received no further communication from them until I emailed the head manager of the entire dealership to tell him about the horrible customer service I received at his business. I pasted my entire blog entries into the email and told him I would never do business with his company again.
Here's his response, which I will post without adding any commentary of my own. Draw your own conclusions.
"Mrs. Johnson,
My apologies for the service you received at Momentum Mini. In most instances such as these I am informed by our clients so that I may have an opportunity to assist in the service however you did not allow me that courtesy. I find it very disheartening that you will be posting and blogging about one single incident here at our location which is hardly fair I believe. We service over 200 vehicles a day and have a great reputation in our service department which is reflected in our customer satisfaction surveys. However we regret that you will be taking your Mini to other locations for service, the other two locations are great facilities.
Respectfully,
Monty Meave
Dealer Operator
Momentum BMW/Mini
Thursday, January 06, 2011
An update
Two and a half days after dropping my car off for a brake pad replacement job, I still don't have my vehicle back. This morning at 7:45, the technician called and left me a message, saying they found a leak in the oil pan and need to replace that as well. "I'll try to have your car done early today. I'll call you when it's ready," he said in the message.
Three hours later I still hadn't heard anything, so I called him and asked for the status on my car. "Oh, didn't you get my message?" he asked. "Yes, I got your message. You said you're working on it and would have it ready soon so I'm calling to find out when it will be ready."
"Oh, ok. Let me check," he said. He put me on hold and then came back a couple minutes later and said "it will be ready at 5pm." WHAT?? You have got to be kidding me! How in the world can you possibly need another full day to work on it??
His explanation was that it takes about five hours to replace an oil pan. Mind you, he had called and alerted to the oil pan issue at 7:45 in the morning. Add five hours and you should come to the reasonable conclusion that my car could be ready by no later than 12:45. So obviously no one had even bothered to start working on the vehicle yet.
He then suggested that I wait until tomorrow morning to return the loaner and pick up my car. I told him that was absolutely impossible as I am moving tomorrow and have to be at my new house at 8am to wait for the gas guy and furniture delivery. His next suggestion was that I keep the loaner until MONDAY.
Are you out of your mind? I am not going to leave my car at the dealership for a WEEK just to get some new brake pads and an oil pan!!! Unbelievable. So I informed him that instead of keeping my car even longer, what he would need to do is deliver my car to me at my office and pick up the loaner from me this afternoon. He tried to tell me he doesn't have enough man power for that and I told him that the manager of the dealership could personally deliver my car if no one else is available. Then I told him to have his manager call me so we could confirm this plan.
Fifteen minutes later, the technician called me back (the manager never bothered to contact me) and asked for my work address to deliver the car. That's the last I heard.
Three hours later I still hadn't heard anything, so I called him and asked for the status on my car. "Oh, didn't you get my message?" he asked. "Yes, I got your message. You said you're working on it and would have it ready soon so I'm calling to find out when it will be ready."
"Oh, ok. Let me check," he said. He put me on hold and then came back a couple minutes later and said "it will be ready at 5pm." WHAT?? You have got to be kidding me! How in the world can you possibly need another full day to work on it??
His explanation was that it takes about five hours to replace an oil pan. Mind you, he had called and alerted to the oil pan issue at 7:45 in the morning. Add five hours and you should come to the reasonable conclusion that my car could be ready by no later than 12:45. So obviously no one had even bothered to start working on the vehicle yet.
He then suggested that I wait until tomorrow morning to return the loaner and pick up my car. I told him that was absolutely impossible as I am moving tomorrow and have to be at my new house at 8am to wait for the gas guy and furniture delivery. His next suggestion was that I keep the loaner until MONDAY.
Are you out of your mind? I am not going to leave my car at the dealership for a WEEK just to get some new brake pads and an oil pan!!! Unbelievable. So I informed him that instead of keeping my car even longer, what he would need to do is deliver my car to me at my office and pick up the loaner from me this afternoon. He tried to tell me he doesn't have enough man power for that and I told him that the manager of the dealership could personally deliver my car if no one else is available. Then I told him to have his manager call me so we could confirm this plan.
Fifteen minutes later, the technician called me back (the manager never bothered to contact me) and asked for my work address to deliver the car. That's the last I heard.
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
A rant about Momentum MINI
If you don't feel like reading my customer service tirade, I'll go ahead and sum up the main point for you: Momentum BMW/MINI has horrible service and I will never, ever purchase a vehicle from them or have a car serviced there or in any way ever pay them another dollar and I will encourage everyone I know never to patronize their establishment either.
That being said, allow me to tell you the story of my car repairs.
Last week, my brake light came on in my car. I called my dealership to make an appointment and bring it in for repairs. My appointment was for Tuesday morning at 8am. I assumed that would give me ample time to have my brake pads replaced and get to work by 11 or 12 that day. Oh how wrong I was.
I dropped my car off and asked how long the service would take. I was told the car would be ready by midday or early afternoon. I said I definitely needed it by midday because I needed to be at work.
While I was there, the technician informed me that my service warranty had expired. I told him that was impossible because my warranty is good for 3 years or 36,000 miles, neither of which I have reached. He said his system showed it expired two days ago, on January 2nd. But he said if I could bring in my paperwork showing when I purchased my car, he could get the issue resolved. Ok, fine. He told me he would call me after the car went through diagnostics and let me know exactly what was wrong with the brakes. I told him that I wanted to have my car serviced one way or the other, regardless of what happened with the warranty. I need brakes.
A shuttle service took me home, where I immediately pulled out my paperwork and called the technician to verify that I had the documents showing my purchase date. He then informed me that my paperwork would not be sufficient after all and that I would need to contact the sales department of the dealership that sold me the car and get them to confirm the warranty.
So I called my original dealership and asked them to check my paperwork and confirm it. They assured me they would contact my service technician and authorize the service because my warranty should still be active. They said there was a mistake with the corporate office and they would get it cleared up.
So I sat at home and waited for notification that my car was ready for pick up. I waited. And waited. Four hours after dropping my car off, I still had received no phone call. So I called the technician and asked him what the status was on my car. He launched into a spiel about how my warranty still wasn't cleared up and he didn't know if the work would be covered. I reminded him that regardless of the warranty issue, I needed the service completed on my car. I then asked if the work was finished and he said they were just now getting it into diagnostics. I told him I needed to get to work and was astonished that after four hours of waiting they still had not even determined what kind of work needed to be done. "Oh, I didn't know you needed to go to work," he replied. "I told you this morning that I needed to be at work today. And now you're telling me that the car hasn't even made it into the shop yet? How do you expect me to get to the office?" He said he would have the technician "speed it up." He then told me he would call me after the diagnostics and confirm the repairs needed.
In frustration, I called my boss and explained the situation to him. My boss had to drive to my house to pick me up and bring me to work.
Once at work, I waited to hear the status of my car. No one called. Finally, at 4:40, nearly nine hours after dropping my car off, I called the technician to ask about my car. "Oh, we still haven't figured out the warranty issue, so we haven't done the work," he said. "WHAT? You mean you've had the car all day and haven't done any work on it?? Why not?" He then proceeded to tell me that my dealership had contacted him and told him to do the work on good faith while they worked to clear up my warranty issue, but that he couldn't do the work on good faith because if something went wrong he would be responsible and have to pay for it out of his own pocket. "I already authorized you to do the service," I said. "I told you I would pay for it if we couldn't get the warranty issue resolved. Now I am stuck at work with no transportation and I don't have a way to get home tonight or get back to work in the morning, not to mention that my car still isn't repaired which means you'll have to keep it for another day. You never bothered to call and tell me any of this or inform me that I would have no transportation for another day. This should have taken no more than a couple hours. You've now had my car an entire day without doing anything. This is ridiculous. I want to speak to your manager."
Of course, the moment I dropped the word "manager" he immediately began to apologize and asked me if I wanted a loaner car and told me he could have the work done on my vehicle by 10am the next morning. I said I wanted to talk to a manager immediately and wanted someone to answer my questions about why no service had been done on my car and no one took the time to notify me of that fact. He put me on hold, then a few minutes later came back and told me his manager wasn't immediately available and he would have him call me.
An hour later, at 5:30pm, no one had called. So I called back and told the receptionist that I needed to talk to a manager immediately about the fact that my car was still there and I was without transportation. She took all my information, put me on hold, and then came back and told me the manager was in a meeting and would call me within 30 minutes.
An hour later, at 6:30pm, no one had called. So I called back again and demanded to speak to a manager. I was told they were all in a meeting, at which point I demanded someone interrupt the meeting and pull the manager out to talk to me.
Finally the manager, Andrew, got on the phone. I explained the situation to him. He never apologized. He just said "well I guess we need to figure out your transportation situation. We can call a cab for you to take you home tonight." I told him that I had already contacted a friend for a ride home because he hadn't returned my phone calls for hours and I wasn't going to sit around and wait for him.
He said he would have a shuttle at my house at 7:30 the next morning to bring me to the dealership and give me a loaner and get my service issue resolved.
At 7:05 this morning, the dealership called me and informed me their shuttle service doesn't start that early and they wouldn't be at my house until 8am.
I finally got to the dealership. The manager didn't bother to meet me there until I specifically requested to talk to him. I had to wait 15 minutes for him to show up. I explained the whole story to him and told him how appalled I was at the horrible customer service. His explanation was "obviously there were multiple breakdowns in communication." He then authorized a loaner vehicle for me and promptly walked off. I was at the dealership for nearly an hour, waiting to process the loaner.
More than two hours later, he called to tell me my warranty was approved and they would begin the brake repairs on my car. More than 24 hours after dropping it off, they are finally working on my car. And because of how long it has taken, I will not be able to pick up my car until tomorrow morning. Which means 48 hours after dropping it off for brake pads, I will have my car back.
Let me reiterate: no one from the company ever returned any of my calls. I had to call them. Every single time. No one informed me of any progress, or lack thereof, on my car. I had to ask for updates. Every single time. No one contacted me with regard to my warranty issues. No one confirmed my transportation needs after leaving me without a vehicle. No one apologized. And no one offered any sort of compensation or service or in any way attempted to redeem the situation.
Never, ever do business with Momentum MINI/BMW. I plan to tell everyone I know not to do business there. And I can't wait to fill out my customer "satisfaction" survey.
That being said, allow me to tell you the story of my car repairs.
Last week, my brake light came on in my car. I called my dealership to make an appointment and bring it in for repairs. My appointment was for Tuesday morning at 8am. I assumed that would give me ample time to have my brake pads replaced and get to work by 11 or 12 that day. Oh how wrong I was.
I dropped my car off and asked how long the service would take. I was told the car would be ready by midday or early afternoon. I said I definitely needed it by midday because I needed to be at work.
While I was there, the technician informed me that my service warranty had expired. I told him that was impossible because my warranty is good for 3 years or 36,000 miles, neither of which I have reached. He said his system showed it expired two days ago, on January 2nd. But he said if I could bring in my paperwork showing when I purchased my car, he could get the issue resolved. Ok, fine. He told me he would call me after the car went through diagnostics and let me know exactly what was wrong with the brakes. I told him that I wanted to have my car serviced one way or the other, regardless of what happened with the warranty. I need brakes.
A shuttle service took me home, where I immediately pulled out my paperwork and called the technician to verify that I had the documents showing my purchase date. He then informed me that my paperwork would not be sufficient after all and that I would need to contact the sales department of the dealership that sold me the car and get them to confirm the warranty.
So I called my original dealership and asked them to check my paperwork and confirm it. They assured me they would contact my service technician and authorize the service because my warranty should still be active. They said there was a mistake with the corporate office and they would get it cleared up.
So I sat at home and waited for notification that my car was ready for pick up. I waited. And waited. Four hours after dropping my car off, I still had received no phone call. So I called the technician and asked him what the status was on my car. He launched into a spiel about how my warranty still wasn't cleared up and he didn't know if the work would be covered. I reminded him that regardless of the warranty issue, I needed the service completed on my car. I then asked if the work was finished and he said they were just now getting it into diagnostics. I told him I needed to get to work and was astonished that after four hours of waiting they still had not even determined what kind of work needed to be done. "Oh, I didn't know you needed to go to work," he replied. "I told you this morning that I needed to be at work today. And now you're telling me that the car hasn't even made it into the shop yet? How do you expect me to get to the office?" He said he would have the technician "speed it up." He then told me he would call me after the diagnostics and confirm the repairs needed.
In frustration, I called my boss and explained the situation to him. My boss had to drive to my house to pick me up and bring me to work.
Once at work, I waited to hear the status of my car. No one called. Finally, at 4:40, nearly nine hours after dropping my car off, I called the technician to ask about my car. "Oh, we still haven't figured out the warranty issue, so we haven't done the work," he said. "WHAT? You mean you've had the car all day and haven't done any work on it?? Why not?" He then proceeded to tell me that my dealership had contacted him and told him to do the work on good faith while they worked to clear up my warranty issue, but that he couldn't do the work on good faith because if something went wrong he would be responsible and have to pay for it out of his own pocket. "I already authorized you to do the service," I said. "I told you I would pay for it if we couldn't get the warranty issue resolved. Now I am stuck at work with no transportation and I don't have a way to get home tonight or get back to work in the morning, not to mention that my car still isn't repaired which means you'll have to keep it for another day. You never bothered to call and tell me any of this or inform me that I would have no transportation for another day. This should have taken no more than a couple hours. You've now had my car an entire day without doing anything. This is ridiculous. I want to speak to your manager."
Of course, the moment I dropped the word "manager" he immediately began to apologize and asked me if I wanted a loaner car and told me he could have the work done on my vehicle by 10am the next morning. I said I wanted to talk to a manager immediately and wanted someone to answer my questions about why no service had been done on my car and no one took the time to notify me of that fact. He put me on hold, then a few minutes later came back and told me his manager wasn't immediately available and he would have him call me.
An hour later, at 5:30pm, no one had called. So I called back and told the receptionist that I needed to talk to a manager immediately about the fact that my car was still there and I was without transportation. She took all my information, put me on hold, and then came back and told me the manager was in a meeting and would call me within 30 minutes.
An hour later, at 6:30pm, no one had called. So I called back again and demanded to speak to a manager. I was told they were all in a meeting, at which point I demanded someone interrupt the meeting and pull the manager out to talk to me.
Finally the manager, Andrew, got on the phone. I explained the situation to him. He never apologized. He just said "well I guess we need to figure out your transportation situation. We can call a cab for you to take you home tonight." I told him that I had already contacted a friend for a ride home because he hadn't returned my phone calls for hours and I wasn't going to sit around and wait for him.
He said he would have a shuttle at my house at 7:30 the next morning to bring me to the dealership and give me a loaner and get my service issue resolved.
At 7:05 this morning, the dealership called me and informed me their shuttle service doesn't start that early and they wouldn't be at my house until 8am.
I finally got to the dealership. The manager didn't bother to meet me there until I specifically requested to talk to him. I had to wait 15 minutes for him to show up. I explained the whole story to him and told him how appalled I was at the horrible customer service. His explanation was "obviously there were multiple breakdowns in communication." He then authorized a loaner vehicle for me and promptly walked off. I was at the dealership for nearly an hour, waiting to process the loaner.
More than two hours later, he called to tell me my warranty was approved and they would begin the brake repairs on my car. More than 24 hours after dropping it off, they are finally working on my car. And because of how long it has taken, I will not be able to pick up my car until tomorrow morning. Which means 48 hours after dropping it off for brake pads, I will have my car back.
Let me reiterate: no one from the company ever returned any of my calls. I had to call them. Every single time. No one informed me of any progress, or lack thereof, on my car. I had to ask for updates. Every single time. No one contacted me with regard to my warranty issues. No one confirmed my transportation needs after leaving me without a vehicle. No one apologized. And no one offered any sort of compensation or service or in any way attempted to redeem the situation.
Never, ever do business with Momentum MINI/BMW. I plan to tell everyone I know not to do business there. And I can't wait to fill out my customer "satisfaction" survey.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Hail Mary Pass?
One thing I think I've well-established by now is the fact that my family is crazy. I know many of you think YOUR family is crazy. But mine is the real deal.
Even the family members who are closer to the sane end of the spectrum are still above the average level of crazy. Take my grandmother, as an example. She's generally a regular gramma, wearing her little cardigans and making the Christmas biscotti and fudge. But every once in awhile, you get a little taste of the crazy.
On Christmas Eve, as our family festivities were winding down, somehow the subject of dating came up. Now mind you, no one was questioning me or giving me grief about my dating life. We were merely discussing the issue. But gramma, who is a bit hard of hearing, got the wrong idea.
*Pause for momentary rabbit trail. Gramma can't hear very well anymore. She has a hearing aid, but doesn't like to actually use it. This is actually entertaining when someone says something like "close the front door" and gramma responds "what about the sweet corn?"
Ok, back to the story. So gramma hears the dating conversation, but she doesn't hear the actual details. So she jumps to the conclusion that everyone is making fun of me for being single. She jumps out of her chair, runs back to her bedroom, all the while yelling "hold on, hold on...God told me what's going to happen."
We're all a little confused at this point. She runs back into the room, clutching her rosary beads. "Now y'all stop making fun of her," she says to the room...still under the impression that I'm the butt of single-girl jokes. "God told me about your husband," she proclaims, thrusting the beads into my hands.
"Umm, ok Gramma. What did God tell you?"
"Look at that bead," she commands, pointing to one of the Our Fathers on the chain.
The beads are carved out of stone and I look closely at the one she points out. There's an aberration in the markings on the stone that looks like the number 35.
"God told me that 35 is for you," she announces. "When you're 35, you'll have a husband and a baby."
I'm a little unclear on whether I get the husband and the baby in the same year, or whether the husband comes earlier followed by the child, in which case by the time I'm 35 I will finally be a complete and whole person in the eyes of my family.
Either way, the beads have spoken.
Even the family members who are closer to the sane end of the spectrum are still above the average level of crazy. Take my grandmother, as an example. She's generally a regular gramma, wearing her little cardigans and making the Christmas biscotti and fudge. But every once in awhile, you get a little taste of the crazy.
On Christmas Eve, as our family festivities were winding down, somehow the subject of dating came up. Now mind you, no one was questioning me or giving me grief about my dating life. We were merely discussing the issue. But gramma, who is a bit hard of hearing, got the wrong idea.
*Pause for momentary rabbit trail. Gramma can't hear very well anymore. She has a hearing aid, but doesn't like to actually use it. This is actually entertaining when someone says something like "close the front door" and gramma responds "what about the sweet corn?"
Ok, back to the story. So gramma hears the dating conversation, but she doesn't hear the actual details. So she jumps to the conclusion that everyone is making fun of me for being single. She jumps out of her chair, runs back to her bedroom, all the while yelling "hold on, hold on...God told me what's going to happen."
We're all a little confused at this point. She runs back into the room, clutching her rosary beads. "Now y'all stop making fun of her," she says to the room...still under the impression that I'm the butt of single-girl jokes. "God told me about your husband," she proclaims, thrusting the beads into my hands.
"Umm, ok Gramma. What did God tell you?"
"Look at that bead," she commands, pointing to one of the Our Fathers on the chain.
The beads are carved out of stone and I look closely at the one she points out. There's an aberration in the markings on the stone that looks like the number 35.
"God told me that 35 is for you," she announces. "When you're 35, you'll have a husband and a baby."
I'm a little unclear on whether I get the husband and the baby in the same year, or whether the husband comes earlier followed by the child, in which case by the time I'm 35 I will finally be a complete and whole person in the eyes of my family.
Either way, the beads have spoken.
Monday, January 03, 2011
Back on the Blogwagon
Hello friends!
Apologies for my loooong absence from the QQ! I'm back and hope to be a bit more consistent with my stories.
Now settle in, chilluns. I've got a good one for ya. What could be a better way to start off the new year than with an Awkward Guy post?
The scene: A glitzy New Year's Eve party
The characters: Your heroine (looking stunning in a slinky little black number, if I do say so...), an Awkward Guy, supporting cast
The story:
There I was, standing next to a friend of mine chatting about this and that, when up walks a guy I've known for many years with another guy in tow behind him.
"Laurie, I want you to meet my friend, John. He and I used to be roommates long ago. He's in town this weekend and I wanted you to meet him."
There stands John, looking ever so slightly uncomfortable, but also a little overly eager.
"Hello, I'm Laurie. Nice to meet you. You're in town for the weekend? Obviously you don't live in Houston, where do you live now?"
John says he now lives in the hill country region of Texas, an area I myself used to live in. "OH!" I exclaim. "I used to live a few miles from there!"
John smiles, nods and says nothing.
Errrm. Ok let me try that again.
"It's such a pretty part of Texas!" I add.
John nods and says "yes it is." Then stares. For a long time. Saying nothing.
Meanwhile my two other friends who had been standing nearby have completely cleared out. I'm in a deadzone. There is no escape.
After a pause that felt like an eternity, John asks me what I do for a living.
"I work in radio," I reply.
"Which station?" he asks.
"The NPR affiliate," I respond.
"And you're a CHRISTIAN??!" he exclaims.
We are off to a great start.
Let me take a moment to pause and remind all you single fellas out there that insulting a woman about her occupation is usually not the best method to impress her. It's not like I said I'm a stripper. I work in radio. News broadcasting and classical music. Not exactly the devil's work.
So I proceed to lay into him about how much I love my job and that Christians need to stop complaining about liberal bias in the media and start being a part of the things going on around them etc etc etc...then I finally cooled down and ended my tirade with "so what do you do?"
"I'm an allergist." Long stare. Silence.
"Do you enjoy your work?" I ask.
"Yes, I do. You know they say it takes 100,000 people to support one allergist. So I travel a lot." Long stare. More silence.
Here's another free tip for the guys...you have to actually talk when you're having a conversation with a girl. You can't just stare. Or stand there. Or wait for her to come up with all the questions. Because what will happen is she will do exactly what I did, which is say "I'm going to go dance with my friends. Nice meeting you." And she will walk off and then blog about you.
Apologies for my loooong absence from the QQ! I'm back and hope to be a bit more consistent with my stories.
Now settle in, chilluns. I've got a good one for ya. What could be a better way to start off the new year than with an Awkward Guy post?
The scene: A glitzy New Year's Eve party
The characters: Your heroine (looking stunning in a slinky little black number, if I do say so...), an Awkward Guy, supporting cast
The story:
There I was, standing next to a friend of mine chatting about this and that, when up walks a guy I've known for many years with another guy in tow behind him.
"Laurie, I want you to meet my friend, John. He and I used to be roommates long ago. He's in town this weekend and I wanted you to meet him."
There stands John, looking ever so slightly uncomfortable, but also a little overly eager.
"Hello, I'm Laurie. Nice to meet you. You're in town for the weekend? Obviously you don't live in Houston, where do you live now?"
John says he now lives in the hill country region of Texas, an area I myself used to live in. "OH!" I exclaim. "I used to live a few miles from there!"
John smiles, nods and says nothing.
Errrm. Ok let me try that again.
"It's such a pretty part of Texas!" I add.
John nods and says "yes it is." Then stares. For a long time. Saying nothing.
Meanwhile my two other friends who had been standing nearby have completely cleared out. I'm in a deadzone. There is no escape.
After a pause that felt like an eternity, John asks me what I do for a living.
"I work in radio," I reply.
"Which station?" he asks.
"The NPR affiliate," I respond.
"And you're a CHRISTIAN??!" he exclaims.
We are off to a great start.
Let me take a moment to pause and remind all you single fellas out there that insulting a woman about her occupation is usually not the best method to impress her. It's not like I said I'm a stripper. I work in radio. News broadcasting and classical music. Not exactly the devil's work.
So I proceed to lay into him about how much I love my job and that Christians need to stop complaining about liberal bias in the media and start being a part of the things going on around them etc etc etc...then I finally cooled down and ended my tirade with "so what do you do?"
"I'm an allergist." Long stare. Silence.
"Do you enjoy your work?" I ask.
"Yes, I do. You know they say it takes 100,000 people to support one allergist. So I travel a lot." Long stare. More silence.
Here's another free tip for the guys...you have to actually talk when you're having a conversation with a girl. You can't just stare. Or stand there. Or wait for her to come up with all the questions. Because what will happen is she will do exactly what I did, which is say "I'm going to go dance with my friends. Nice meeting you." And she will walk off and then blog about you.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Curiouser and Curiouser
The other day we were busily working away in the newsroom, when a woman wandered in and stood in the middle of the room. My boss noticed her and asked if we could help her. She announced, matter of factly, "I'm here with __ (musical group) and I see that they are set up in the performance studio."
Oh ok, he replied, thinking perhaps she was just peeking in to see a working newsroom. We all went back to our work, buried in the rush of being on deadline.
And the woman continued to just stand there. And stand there. And stand there. It was beyond awkward. But everyone tried to be polite and pretend that it was completely normal for a total stranger to silently hover in the middle of our office.
Finally after several minutes, the woman loudly said "ARE you going to help me??"
"Excuse me?" my boss asked, startled.
"I've been standing here all this time and no one is helping me!" the woman responded.
My boss apologized and said he didn't realize that she needed help since he had already offered to help her earlier. She proceeded to complain and berate him for not taking her to the proper office or showing her where her group was performing (even though she had already informed us that she saw her group setting up in the studio).
She complained the whole way down the hall as he escorted her back to the area she had wandered away from.
Bizarre.
Oh ok, he replied, thinking perhaps she was just peeking in to see a working newsroom. We all went back to our work, buried in the rush of being on deadline.
And the woman continued to just stand there. And stand there. And stand there. It was beyond awkward. But everyone tried to be polite and pretend that it was completely normal for a total stranger to silently hover in the middle of our office.
Finally after several minutes, the woman loudly said "ARE you going to help me??"
"Excuse me?" my boss asked, startled.
"I've been standing here all this time and no one is helping me!" the woman responded.
My boss apologized and said he didn't realize that she needed help since he had already offered to help her earlier. She proceeded to complain and berate him for not taking her to the proper office or showing her where her group was performing (even though she had already informed us that she saw her group setting up in the studio).
She complained the whole way down the hall as he escorted her back to the area she had wandered away from.
Bizarre.
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Adventures in House-Hunting, Part Deux
Looking for a new place to live has provided very little in the way of solid leads, but great riches in the way of blog material. Let the storytelling commence...
I saw a cute apartment listed online, so contacted the owner to schedule a showing. It was a garage apartment behind his house, so he told me to drop by on the weekend and he would show me around. When I got there, he was outside with his little boy, doing yard work.
He introduced himself, then introduced me to his son, who appeared to be about two or three years old. I smiled at the little boy (we'll call him Theo) and introduced myself, but he merely turned away and continued digging in the dirt.
The dad started to lead me toward the apartment, when suddenly Theo ran up behind me and yelled "you smell like poop!"
Precious.
The dad, in a feeble attempt to cover for his son, said "what? You stepped in poop?"
Listen, Daddy-O, that is not what your darling child just said.
As though to confirm my inner monologue, Theo loudly repeated his earlier proclamation..."you smell like POOP!"
Dad keeps walking and casually over his shoulder says "Theo, don't step in poop."
We go inside the apartment. It's rather nice, nothing stunning, but certainly well-kept. The previous tenant hasn't removed all of his belongings so there is still quite a lot of furniture and electronics in the unit. He points out various amenities, all while Theo systematically runs around the apartment, banging a shovel on the tenants stereo and furniture.
Charming.
Finally, the dad clues in to what his lovely child is doing and tells Theo to stop. Theo does not stop. So the dad takes the shovel away from Theo. At which point Theo proceeds to throw a temper tantrum, wailing and screaming. So what does the dad do? He picks Theo up, cradles him in his arms, gives him a kiss on the cheek and hands the shovel back to him.
After he shows me the apartment, we're walking out and locking up and he says "by the way, do you babysit?"
I tell you, I cannot make this stuff up.
I saw a cute apartment listed online, so contacted the owner to schedule a showing. It was a garage apartment behind his house, so he told me to drop by on the weekend and he would show me around. When I got there, he was outside with his little boy, doing yard work.
He introduced himself, then introduced me to his son, who appeared to be about two or three years old. I smiled at the little boy (we'll call him Theo) and introduced myself, but he merely turned away and continued digging in the dirt.
The dad started to lead me toward the apartment, when suddenly Theo ran up behind me and yelled "you smell like poop!"
Precious.
The dad, in a feeble attempt to cover for his son, said "what? You stepped in poop?"
Listen, Daddy-O, that is not what your darling child just said.
As though to confirm my inner monologue, Theo loudly repeated his earlier proclamation..."you smell like POOP!"
Dad keeps walking and casually over his shoulder says "Theo, don't step in poop."
We go inside the apartment. It's rather nice, nothing stunning, but certainly well-kept. The previous tenant hasn't removed all of his belongings so there is still quite a lot of furniture and electronics in the unit. He points out various amenities, all while Theo systematically runs around the apartment, banging a shovel on the tenants stereo and furniture.
Charming.
Finally, the dad clues in to what his lovely child is doing and tells Theo to stop. Theo does not stop. So the dad takes the shovel away from Theo. At which point Theo proceeds to throw a temper tantrum, wailing and screaming. So what does the dad do? He picks Theo up, cradles him in his arms, gives him a kiss on the cheek and hands the shovel back to him.
After he shows me the apartment, we're walking out and locking up and he says "by the way, do you babysit?"
I tell you, I cannot make this stuff up.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
How to Annoy a Reporter
A step-by-step tutorial:
First, send out a press release about an event. Include the time, address and purpose, but don't include any contact information or phone numbers.
Next, make sure the address causes the reporter to end up at a huge locked gate in front of the building, with no access point, call button or security shack.
After the reporter uses her smart phone to look up a phone number for your organization, make sure the main number routes her through a generic automated answering system.
Reporters are wily, so she'll probably figure out how to get a live person to answer her call eventually. When she succeeds, be sure to have the operator direct her around to the back gate of the facility for access. Don't tell her that the back gate is flooded.
After she discovers the flooding, she will probably call again, demanding answers. Make sure someone different answers the phone this time.
Tell the reporter you will put her on hold while you investigate the matter. Leave her on hold for at least five minutes. During this time, you can choose whether or not to actually investigate the issue regarding access to the building. Your call. Finally, pick the line back up and in doing so "accidentally" disconnect the call.
Depending on her tenacity, she may give up altogether and leave without attending the press conference. In this case, you have been successful in your handling of the situation.
However, be advised that she may be so angered that she takes measures into her own hands, drives back around to the front of the building, honking her horn until someone walks out, at which point she may demand to be allowed inside to attend the now completed press conference.
If this happens, know that you did everything in your power to make the process as frustrating as possible. Good job.
First, send out a press release about an event. Include the time, address and purpose, but don't include any contact information or phone numbers.
Next, make sure the address causes the reporter to end up at a huge locked gate in front of the building, with no access point, call button or security shack.
After the reporter uses her smart phone to look up a phone number for your organization, make sure the main number routes her through a generic automated answering system.
Reporters are wily, so she'll probably figure out how to get a live person to answer her call eventually. When she succeeds, be sure to have the operator direct her around to the back gate of the facility for access. Don't tell her that the back gate is flooded.
After she discovers the flooding, she will probably call again, demanding answers. Make sure someone different answers the phone this time.
Tell the reporter you will put her on hold while you investigate the matter. Leave her on hold for at least five minutes. During this time, you can choose whether or not to actually investigate the issue regarding access to the building. Your call. Finally, pick the line back up and in doing so "accidentally" disconnect the call.
Depending on her tenacity, she may give up altogether and leave without attending the press conference. In this case, you have been successful in your handling of the situation.
However, be advised that she may be so angered that she takes measures into her own hands, drives back around to the front of the building, honking her horn until someone walks out, at which point she may demand to be allowed inside to attend the now completed press conference.
If this happens, know that you did everything in your power to make the process as frustrating as possible. Good job.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Adventures in House-Hunting
I'm planning to move in a few weeks and have looked at one or two places so far. I'll just be renting, not buying, but the experience has been...interesting...so far. I've only checked out a couple spots because it's a bit early to finalize anything.
The first place I looked at came about by driving through a neighborhood. I spied a cute little place with a For Rent sign out front. So I called the number and chatted with the owner about the details of price, size etc. He told me his wife could meet me there to show me the property if I wanted to see it right away, so I agreed.
A few minutes later she pulled up...a very cute little old lady bundled in a sweater, cheerily waving at me. Mentally, I thought this could be a good sign.
As we walked up to the apartment she was telling me about the property. "There's the main house, which we own, and the apartment in the back which we lease out. We're the landlords, so you'd be dealing directly with us."
"Oh, so do you and your husband live in the house?" I asked, politely, trying to make conversation.
She stopped, looked at me and said, in a none too pleasant voice, "NO. I told you. I know it's hard to listen, but I already informed you we're the landlords. We don't live here. We just rent it. Landlord means we rent it."
Then she headed up the stairs, cheerily informing me of the various amenities.
I made a mental note to scratch this one off the list.
Even if the apartment was adorable, the landlady was not.
The first place I looked at came about by driving through a neighborhood. I spied a cute little place with a For Rent sign out front. So I called the number and chatted with the owner about the details of price, size etc. He told me his wife could meet me there to show me the property if I wanted to see it right away, so I agreed.
A few minutes later she pulled up...a very cute little old lady bundled in a sweater, cheerily waving at me. Mentally, I thought this could be a good sign.
As we walked up to the apartment she was telling me about the property. "There's the main house, which we own, and the apartment in the back which we lease out. We're the landlords, so you'd be dealing directly with us."
"Oh, so do you and your husband live in the house?" I asked, politely, trying to make conversation.
She stopped, looked at me and said, in a none too pleasant voice, "NO. I told you. I know it's hard to listen, but I already informed you we're the landlords. We don't live here. We just rent it. Landlord means we rent it."
Then she headed up the stairs, cheerily informing me of the various amenities.
I made a mental note to scratch this one off the list.
Even if the apartment was adorable, the landlady was not.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
The Chain
the sky looks pissed
the wind talks back
my bones are shifting in my skin
and you, my love, are gone
my room seems wrong
the bed won't fit
I cannot seem to operate
and you, my love, are gone
so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore
and when you come around again
then I will take the chain from off the door
I'll never say I'll never love
but I don't say a lot of things
and you, my love, are gone
so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore
and when you come around again
then I will take...
then I will the chain from off the door
the wind talks back
my bones are shifting in my skin
and you, my love, are gone
my room seems wrong
the bed won't fit
I cannot seem to operate
and you, my love, are gone
so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore
and when you come around again
then I will take the chain from off the door
I'll never say I'll never love
but I don't say a lot of things
and you, my love, are gone
so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore
and when you come around again
then I will take...
then I will the chain from off the door
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Beans, beans...the magical legume
I made a big pot of beans last night. I figured I could eat some for lunches this week and freeze the rest. I tried out a new recipe. It has white beans and herbs with Italian-style turkey sausage. The only problem is, I don't like it very much. I mean, it's not bad...but it's not all that great either. So now I'm left with a dilemma. Do I force myself to eat the leftovers? Or do I throw out perfectly good food that just doesn't appeal to me?
What do you do in these situations?
What do you do in these situations?
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Secret Footage
Yesterday I saw a woman in the grocery store wearing skin-tight white pants, with red and white striped underwear. Naturally, I know what her underwear looked like because I could see them straight through her pants. Incidentally, she had the beginning of a wedgie forming.
I really wanted to film her for secret footage on What Not to Wear. (If you aren't familiar with this show, you MUST check it out. I can honestly say it's the only fashion show out there that actually makes me want to get rid of things instead of buy things.)
I think it's going to be a new goal of mine to get someone onto the show. So beware...when you're around me I may be looking for fashion violations. You have been warned.
I really wanted to film her for secret footage on What Not to Wear. (If you aren't familiar with this show, you MUST check it out. I can honestly say it's the only fashion show out there that actually makes me want to get rid of things instead of buy things.)
I think it's going to be a new goal of mine to get someone onto the show. So beware...when you're around me I may be looking for fashion violations. You have been warned.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Splish Splash
Last night I was out with some friends at the uber-trendy Benjy's location on Washington. We were enjoying happy hour on the terrace. We were definitely part of "the scene." Everyone looked fierce, dressed to the nines. (What does that phrase even mean?)
Can you picture it? A bunch of 20- and 30-somethings, sipping wine and noshing on upscale bits and bites, laughing and talking under the soft lights of the chic patio.
It was a birthday celebration. We presented a gorgeous fruit tart with sparkling candles to the birthday girl. The flames flickered in the dusk, as we softly sang and laughed under the stars. It was like a scene out of a movie.
Chatting with my friends, I began slicing pieces of the tart, dishing them out to those around me. And in the process, knocked over my entire glass of RED wine directly onto the guy sitting across from me. He, along with his lovely suit, was drenched in Pinot Noir. I was mortified. It was literally dripping off of him, streaming down his jacket.
He was very kind and gracious about it. The suit was dark and he assured me it wouldn't be ruined. His white shirt, on the other hand, won't be so fortunate. But he laughed and said "You know, Laurie...I've always secretly wanted to have a moment where a woman threw her glass of wine in my face. Thanks for making that happen for me."
Maybe the evening was more like a movie than I realized.
Can you picture it? A bunch of 20- and 30-somethings, sipping wine and noshing on upscale bits and bites, laughing and talking under the soft lights of the chic patio.
It was a birthday celebration. We presented a gorgeous fruit tart with sparkling candles to the birthday girl. The flames flickered in the dusk, as we softly sang and laughed under the stars. It was like a scene out of a movie.
Chatting with my friends, I began slicing pieces of the tart, dishing them out to those around me. And in the process, knocked over my entire glass of RED wine directly onto the guy sitting across from me. He, along with his lovely suit, was drenched in Pinot Noir. I was mortified. It was literally dripping off of him, streaming down his jacket.
He was very kind and gracious about it. The suit was dark and he assured me it wouldn't be ruined. His white shirt, on the other hand, won't be so fortunate. But he laughed and said "You know, Laurie...I've always secretly wanted to have a moment where a woman threw her glass of wine in my face. Thanks for making that happen for me."
Maybe the evening was more like a movie than I realized.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
There's a TV on the wall above my head. (This is normal in a newsroom...go with it.) I just glanced up and saw Oprah on her fishing/camping expedition that has been much hyped on the network. Right now she is wading into a stream, attempting to fly-fish.
The thought struck me...what if video crews followed me around all day long on vacation? I have the day off tomorrow. Maybe I should document my activities. I think they will go something like this:
Sleep late
Eat some breakfast (contents TBD)
Wash laundry
Shop for groceries
Check Facebook
Eat lunch
Take nap
etc etc etc
I think this is going to be a big hit.
The thought struck me...what if video crews followed me around all day long on vacation? I have the day off tomorrow. Maybe I should document my activities. I think they will go something like this:
Sleep late
Eat some breakfast (contents TBD)
Wash laundry
Shop for groceries
Check Facebook
Eat lunch
Take nap
etc etc etc
I think this is going to be a big hit.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Advertising Fail
I have a sudden craving for orange juice. I think it's because I just glanced up at the TV screen above me in the newsroom and saw a woman chugging from a giant jug of orange juice. Ironically, the commercial was instructing me not to bother with such antiquated ways of boosting one's immune system.
Instead, I'm supposed to crave Airborne.
Mmmm, a refreshing glass of Airborne....
Nope. It's not working. I still want orange juice.
Instead, I'm supposed to crave Airborne.
Mmmm, a refreshing glass of Airborne....
Nope. It's not working. I still want orange juice.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Going to the Chapel...and we're...hoping to get married
Four of my girlfriends got engaged last weekend. Four. That's a lot. I'm very delighted for all of them. Truly. But as a single girl, it's hard not to feel a bit sad at the same time. All sorts of thoughts go through my mind, most of them along the lines of "will it ever happen for me?"
Warning: Don't tell your married friends that you feel this way. They mean well, but they usually respond with something along the lines of "enjoy being single. Marriage is harder than you realize" or the always encouraging "there's someone out there for you"...etc etc.
Saying that to a single person is sort of like eating a big piece of fudge in front of your friend who is on a diet and telling her that it's not as good as it looks and she should be grateful she's on a diet. I'm not saying the diet isn't beneficial. It is. But that's little consolation when what she really wants and absolutely cannot have is a piece of fudge.
Even on a diet, it's possible to indulge now and then in a taste of fudge. But for single men and women, there is no way to enjoy marriage without being married. It's something that is absolutely impossible for us to experience until and unless we get married some day. In the meantime, it's unattainable.
Please note, I'm not addressing this to any particular married friend. It's just a trend I've observed in the responses I get from married people when the issue of singleness arises. There seems to be an assumption that because you got married and realized an end to your singlehood, then all your single friends will do the same. I know you mean well. And I know that marriage is much harder than single people can ever understand because we're...well...not married.
If you're married, it can be easy to forget the loneliness and heartache that often comes with singleness. The best kind of "consolation" you can offer is simply to listen to your friend who is hurting or who feels forgotten or overlooked. Love them. Hug them. Tell them you remember what it felt like and you are praying for them. Or, tell them you don't remember what it felt like because you got married at a young age, but you are praying for them. Don't try to minimize their singleness or offer empty platitudes about marital status and future.
Just be a friend. A married friend.
Warning: Don't tell your married friends that you feel this way. They mean well, but they usually respond with something along the lines of "enjoy being single. Marriage is harder than you realize" or the always encouraging "there's someone out there for you"...etc etc.
Saying that to a single person is sort of like eating a big piece of fudge in front of your friend who is on a diet and telling her that it's not as good as it looks and she should be grateful she's on a diet. I'm not saying the diet isn't beneficial. It is. But that's little consolation when what she really wants and absolutely cannot have is a piece of fudge.
Even on a diet, it's possible to indulge now and then in a taste of fudge. But for single men and women, there is no way to enjoy marriage without being married. It's something that is absolutely impossible for us to experience until and unless we get married some day. In the meantime, it's unattainable.
Please note, I'm not addressing this to any particular married friend. It's just a trend I've observed in the responses I get from married people when the issue of singleness arises. There seems to be an assumption that because you got married and realized an end to your singlehood, then all your single friends will do the same. I know you mean well. And I know that marriage is much harder than single people can ever understand because we're...well...not married.
If you're married, it can be easy to forget the loneliness and heartache that often comes with singleness. The best kind of "consolation" you can offer is simply to listen to your friend who is hurting or who feels forgotten or overlooked. Love them. Hug them. Tell them you remember what it felt like and you are praying for them. Or, tell them you don't remember what it felt like because you got married at a young age, but you are praying for them. Don't try to minimize their singleness or offer empty platitudes about marital status and future.
Just be a friend. A married friend.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Things I want to do (in no particular order)
Some of these are things I've done before and want to do again. Others are things I've never done. Either way, these are the things on my mind that I really want to do. Soon.
- Take a nap under a tree
- Visit NYC around Christmas
- Bake a pie
- Read A Tale of Two Cities
- Watch Inception
- Walk through crunchy leaves
- See a play
- Get a new haircut
- Buy a fancy dress
- Cook soup
- Throw a dinner party
- Throw a breakfast party
- Pull a prank
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Overheard in Houston
I was walking down the street past City Hall today, and passed by two men who appeared to be homeless or at least down on their luck. I really REALLY wish I could have heard the beginning or the end of their conversation. As it was I only heard this one snippet:
One man to the other: "You're a good-looking guy. You really are. Remember that, just remember how good-looking you are."
I can't say I agree with him, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
One man to the other: "You're a good-looking guy. You really are. Remember that, just remember how good-looking you are."
I can't say I agree with him, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Important Women's Health Issue - Please Read
*Do you have feelings of inadequacy?
*Do you suffer from shyness?
*Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive?
*Do you suffer from exhaustion from the day to day grind?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist about Margaritas.
Margaritas are the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions. You will notice the benefits of Margaritas almost immediately and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that keep you from living the life you want to have.
Stop hiding and start living, with Margaritas.
Margaritas may not be right for everyone. Women who are nursing or pregnant should not use Margaritas. However, women who wouldn't mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.
Side effects may include:
-Dizziness
-Nausea
-Vomiting
-Incarceration
-Lustfulness
-Loss of motor control
-Loss of clothing
-Loss of money
-Loss of virginity
-Table Dancing
-Headache
-Dehydration
-Dry mouth
-And a desire to sing Karaoke
*Do you suffer from shyness?
*Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive?
*Do you suffer from exhaustion from the day to day grind?
If you answered yes to any of those questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist about Margaritas.
Margaritas are the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions. You will notice the benefits of Margaritas almost immediately and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that keep you from living the life you want to have.
Stop hiding and start living, with Margaritas.
Margaritas may not be right for everyone. Women who are nursing or pregnant should not use Margaritas. However, women who wouldn't mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.
Side effects may include:
-Dizziness
-Nausea
-Vomiting
-Incarceration
-Lustfulness
-Loss of motor control
-Loss of clothing
-Loss of money
-Loss of virginity
-Table Dancing
-Headache
-Dehydration
-Dry mouth
-And a desire to sing Karaoke
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
My Big Fat Cajun Family
We all have crazy families, but I'm pretty sure mine is still one of the best when it comes to making me cringe in public. You know how teenagers act when their parents do something uncool? That's how I feel, to about the Nth power, when my family is out of control in the public realm.
Case in point: We had a family birthday last weekend and celebrated by having a picnic at the park. As we were finishing our meal, another family started to set up nearby. The grampa in their group walked by our table and said "Bon Appetit!" My dad responded enthusiastically with the reply "Oh thanks! We've already boned our petite."
Facepalm.
Sometimes I wish I was Jewish, so I could say "oi" and really mean it.
There must have been a look of utter horror on my face, because my mom turned to me with her lips pursed and pointedly said to me "When you lived in MY house you wouldn't have known what that word even meant!"
That was a decade ago, Mom. And I knew what it meant, even then. I just pretended to be naive because I didn't want to discuss euphemisms with my parents. Forgive me.
Case in point: We had a family birthday last weekend and celebrated by having a picnic at the park. As we were finishing our meal, another family started to set up nearby. The grampa in their group walked by our table and said "Bon Appetit!" My dad responded enthusiastically with the reply "Oh thanks! We've already boned our petite."
Facepalm.
Sometimes I wish I was Jewish, so I could say "oi" and really mean it.
There must have been a look of utter horror on my face, because my mom turned to me with her lips pursed and pointedly said to me "When you lived in MY house you wouldn't have known what that word even meant!"
That was a decade ago, Mom. And I knew what it meant, even then. I just pretended to be naive because I didn't want to discuss euphemisms with my parents. Forgive me.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Being Watched
As if Facebook and Twitter aren't enough for stalking, my Starbucks barista has apparently started keeping track of me as well.
Oh it all started innocently enough...I hadn't gone into the shop for a few weeks, so when I finally showed up the guy said "Hey, I haven't seen you in awhile. I was wondering what happened to you."
The next time I went in, he saw me at the counter and quickly said "so, will it be the grande non-fat no-whip mocha?" Now I know it's common for the baristas to memorize what people order, but keep in mind, I only visit Starbucks once a week. Not every day.
Last week, I went in on a particularly busy day. By the time I got to the counter, he had already prepared my drink and had it waiting for me...accompanied by the comment "I saw you come in and noticed you're running a bit late today, so I've got your drink ready."
What will this week bring? I'm fully expecting him to ask how my family lunch went this weekend and whether I enjoyed my time at the park. He's...watching...
Oh it all started innocently enough...I hadn't gone into the shop for a few weeks, so when I finally showed up the guy said "Hey, I haven't seen you in awhile. I was wondering what happened to you."
The next time I went in, he saw me at the counter and quickly said "so, will it be the grande non-fat no-whip mocha?" Now I know it's common for the baristas to memorize what people order, but keep in mind, I only visit Starbucks once a week. Not every day.
Last week, I went in on a particularly busy day. By the time I got to the counter, he had already prepared my drink and had it waiting for me...accompanied by the comment "I saw you come in and noticed you're running a bit late today, so I've got your drink ready."
What will this week bring? I'm fully expecting him to ask how my family lunch went this weekend and whether I enjoyed my time at the park. He's...watching...
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The Fridge Chronicles
We're one week into our crusade for a better tomorrow...namely the fridge clean-up effort. You can see for yourself how things went.
Those vegetables on the top shelf are literally sitting in a pool of sludge. The jug of iced "tea" has been there for weeks. The milk was never even opened and is now well past its due date. I expect a live birth any day. Tune in next week for an update of The Fridge Chronicles...
Those vegetables on the top shelf are literally sitting in a pool of sludge. The jug of iced "tea" has been there for weeks. The milk was never even opened and is now well past its due date. I expect a live birth any day. Tune in next week for an update of The Fridge Chronicles...Monday, September 27, 2010
Kindly - adj: of an agreeable or beneficial nature
Last week I received a delivery of a beautiful arrangement of flowers. They came as thanks for a service I provided to someone. They were unexpected and are sitting on my desk now, brightening my workspace and reminding me of someone's thoughtfulness and gratitude.
A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine bought a beautiful centerpiece for me at a charity event. He gave them to me, not because he's trying to woo me or had some sort of motive...but simply because he wanted to give me something I would enjoy.
I've been reflecting on kindnesses done for me. One that comes to mind over and over is the time I was at a family's home for a church event with some junior high kids. At the end of the evening, I went out to my car and drove home. It wasn't until the next day that I realized my car was quite a bit more shiny and clean than I remembered it being the day before. Turns out, the dad at the house I was visiting washed my car while it sat on his driveway. He did it simply because he wanted to and because it was a way of doing something kind and thoughtful for me. That was several years ago. I still remember it as being one of the nicest things someone has done for me.
So I'm thinking this week about what kinds of nice things I could do for others. I encourage you to do the same. Something as simple as washing someone's car could make a memory that stays with them for years to come.
A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine bought a beautiful centerpiece for me at a charity event. He gave them to me, not because he's trying to woo me or had some sort of motive...but simply because he wanted to give me something I would enjoy.
I've been reflecting on kindnesses done for me. One that comes to mind over and over is the time I was at a family's home for a church event with some junior high kids. At the end of the evening, I went out to my car and drove home. It wasn't until the next day that I realized my car was quite a bit more shiny and clean than I remembered it being the day before. Turns out, the dad at the house I was visiting washed my car while it sat on his driveway. He did it simply because he wanted to and because it was a way of doing something kind and thoughtful for me. That was several years ago. I still remember it as being one of the nicest things someone has done for me.
So I'm thinking this week about what kinds of nice things I could do for others. I encourage you to do the same. Something as simple as washing someone's car could make a memory that stays with them for years to come.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Things You Should Know
There are certain things you should know if you're over the age of...oh let's say 20...just to be lenient.
Here are some of those things, in no particular order.
Eke and eek are two different words with different meanings. They are not interchangeable.
Same rule applies to loose and lose. Please. Just...don't.
Know the correct saying or colloquialism before you quote it. No, it is not a doggy dog world. Nor are the ideas of March upon you.
If your last name ends with an 's' please know the rules for making it plural and/or possessive. Yes, the Jones family can come to dinner. No, we won't be having dinner at the Jones's. We might water the Joneses' plants. Mr. Jones' bunny is adorable. And you can keep up with the Joneses if you like.
There will be a pop quiz.
Here are some of those things, in no particular order.
Eke and eek are two different words with different meanings. They are not interchangeable.
Same rule applies to loose and lose. Please. Just...don't.
Know the correct saying or colloquialism before you quote it. No, it is not a doggy dog world. Nor are the ideas of March upon you.
If your last name ends with an 's' please know the rules for making it plural and/or possessive. Yes, the Jones family can come to dinner. No, we won't be having dinner at the Jones's. We might water the Joneses' plants. Mr. Jones' bunny is adorable. And you can keep up with the Joneses if you like.
There will be a pop quiz.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Office (Refrigerator)
This is what it looks like. On a good day. Maybe I should start blogging about the life of the office fridge. At least our public radio credentials are mostly intact -- there's soy milk, lots of yogurt (though not much of it is organic), groceries from Whole Foods and Vietnamese take-out. Basically our fridge screams "Hipsters work here. Lazy ones."
Monday, September 20, 2010
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Things I should probably not say to boys...
"If you go to this event with me, you have to make out with me afterward."
I'm sure he knew I was joking. I mean clearly it's a joke. No one would take me seriously. Right?
I guess I'll find out...
I'm sure he knew I was joking. I mean clearly it's a joke. No one would take me seriously. Right?
I guess I'll find out...
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Fear of commitment?
Sunday at church I was sitting in an aisle among several friends. A guy I know asked if he could sit next to me and I told him that was fine. He then proceeded to sit down one seat away, leaving a space between us. I gave him a funny look and said "Um, so you don't want to sit next to me?"
He got a puppy dog look on his face and replied "I don't want to fall in love."
He got a puppy dog look on his face and replied "I don't want to fall in love."
Monday, September 06, 2010
Being Beautiful
As long as I can remember, I have hated my body. I hit puberty relatively early in life, around the age of 10. I also began gaining weight around the same time...and have never remembered a time since then when I didn't feel fat, ugly or undesirable.
Yes, I know I'm sharing a lot. You don't have to keep reading if it makes you uncomfortable.
My lifelong battle with my weight has shaped nearly every thought I have about my personal appearance.
"I am ugly," I tell myself. Oh sure, I have pretty green eyes and quite nice lips and killer eyelashes. But, in my mind, my fat body negates all those. It doesn't matter how nice my face is, if my body looks the way it does with all its jiggles and stretch marks and flab.
"No one could love this," I think critically, as I stare at myself in the mirror. "Who would choose me, when there are so many beautiful women out there?"
And, unfortunately, my life experience reinforces that thought. The one serious relationship I've had ended when the guy cheated on me and left me for a much younger, much thinner, much more physically beautiful girl.
So to fight those fears, I remind myself that the Lord doesn't see as men see, for men look on the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. But even then, I end up in the spiral of self-hatred.
"Why, Lord? Why did you make men that way...so focused on physical appearance?" I plead. "You could have made them to look at who a person is, rather than how a person looks!"
Then the Lord gently reminds me that I am doing the very same thing that I accuse men of doing: I am more concerned with my body than I am with the state of my heart. I worry more about looking beautiful than about being beautiful. I think more about having a lovely body than about having a lovely character.
So I work to refocus my heart and energy on what really matters. And I try to remember that beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
This is true. But every woman wants to be beautiful.
Earlier this year, a man who I respect and admire very much looked me in the eye and said "I want you to know that you are beautiful." It was the only time I've ever heard a man say those words to me. And it was the only time I can remember believing that it might be true.
As much as I treasure that moment, that one experience only takes me so far in my effort to overcome nearly 20 years of thinking negatively about myself.
Then last week I stumbled across something called the Beautiful Women Project. It's an art exhibit depicting the torsos of 120 women between the ages of 19 and 91. As I looked at the images of real women, I was struck by how few of them look anything like what we see on TV or in magazines. In fact, most of them look the opposite. But...they are beautiful.
They aren't perfect. They aren't ideal. But they are beautiful. They are fat. They are flabby. Some have breasts that sag. Some have no breasts at all. But they are beautiful.
They look like me.
Yes, I know I'm sharing a lot. You don't have to keep reading if it makes you uncomfortable.
My lifelong battle with my weight has shaped nearly every thought I have about my personal appearance.
"I am ugly," I tell myself. Oh sure, I have pretty green eyes and quite nice lips and killer eyelashes. But, in my mind, my fat body negates all those. It doesn't matter how nice my face is, if my body looks the way it does with all its jiggles and stretch marks and flab.
"No one could love this," I think critically, as I stare at myself in the mirror. "Who would choose me, when there are so many beautiful women out there?"
And, unfortunately, my life experience reinforces that thought. The one serious relationship I've had ended when the guy cheated on me and left me for a much younger, much thinner, much more physically beautiful girl.
So to fight those fears, I remind myself that the Lord doesn't see as men see, for men look on the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. But even then, I end up in the spiral of self-hatred.
"Why, Lord? Why did you make men that way...so focused on physical appearance?" I plead. "You could have made them to look at who a person is, rather than how a person looks!"
Then the Lord gently reminds me that I am doing the very same thing that I accuse men of doing: I am more concerned with my body than I am with the state of my heart. I worry more about looking beautiful than about being beautiful. I think more about having a lovely body than about having a lovely character.
So I work to refocus my heart and energy on what really matters. And I try to remember that beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
This is true. But every woman wants to be beautiful.
Earlier this year, a man who I respect and admire very much looked me in the eye and said "I want you to know that you are beautiful." It was the only time I've ever heard a man say those words to me. And it was the only time I can remember believing that it might be true.
As much as I treasure that moment, that one experience only takes me so far in my effort to overcome nearly 20 years of thinking negatively about myself.
Then last week I stumbled across something called the Beautiful Women Project. It's an art exhibit depicting the torsos of 120 women between the ages of 19 and 91. As I looked at the images of real women, I was struck by how few of them look anything like what we see on TV or in magazines. In fact, most of them look the opposite. But...they are beautiful.
They aren't perfect. They aren't ideal. But they are beautiful. They are fat. They are flabby. Some have breasts that sag. Some have no breasts at all. But they are beautiful.
They look like me.
And if that's the case, then I must be beautiful too.
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Try Coloring OUTSIDE the Lines
Yesterday I went into the staff kitchen to warm up my frozen meal for lunch. One of my coworkers was already using the microwave, heating up her own lean cuisine. I patiently waited, and chatted, as her food cooked. When it was done, she made no move to take it out of the microwave. So I politely asked "Is that yours? Is it done?"
"Yes, it's finished," she replied. "But the box says it needs to sit in the microwave for one to two minutes before you remove it. So you'll have to wait another minute or so."
Seriously?
Another coworker happened to overhear this exchange and kindly came to my aid by gently saying "you know, it's ok to just let it sit on the counter for a minute. It doesn't have to sit inside the microwave."
Coworker Number 1 coolly ignored that hint and repeated firmly "wait another minute and then I'll take it out."
If I were a different kind of person, I would have pulled her lean cuisine out of the microwave and plopped it on the counter. But I'm not that kind of person. So I sat there and waited to warm up my lunch until she deemed that it had been "resting" long enough and freed up the microwave for public use.
I love my job.
"Yes, it's finished," she replied. "But the box says it needs to sit in the microwave for one to two minutes before you remove it. So you'll have to wait another minute or so."
Seriously?
Another coworker happened to overhear this exchange and kindly came to my aid by gently saying "you know, it's ok to just let it sit on the counter for a minute. It doesn't have to sit inside the microwave."
Coworker Number 1 coolly ignored that hint and repeated firmly "wait another minute and then I'll take it out."
If I were a different kind of person, I would have pulled her lean cuisine out of the microwave and plopped it on the counter. But I'm not that kind of person. So I sat there and waited to warm up my lunch until she deemed that it had been "resting" long enough and freed up the microwave for public use.
I love my job.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Reason #342 Why I Love My Job
Walking through the hall today, a colleague casually introduced me to Mike Barratt. That would be the same Mike Barratt who was the lead crew surgeon for the International Space Station and more recently spent 199 days in space as a NASA Mission Specialist.
Chatting with him on the elevator, he mentioned his five children, ranging in age from 9 to 23. He also gave me the best quote of the day: "Space flight is easy. Raising children...now that's hard."
Chatting with him on the elevator, he mentioned his five children, ranging in age from 9 to 23. He also gave me the best quote of the day: "Space flight is easy. Raising children...now that's hard."
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Best Quote of the Week
Coworker on the phone with an angry listener...
"So you're still mad at me?"
"I'm extremely mad at you. But you do have a nice voice."
Classic.
"So you're still mad at me?"
"I'm extremely mad at you. But you do have a nice voice."
Classic.
Friday, August 13, 2010
On my mind
I've been thinking a lot lately about the girls and women rescued and ministered to by the people at Charasia. For those of you who haven't heard about them, they are an India-based ministry that rescues young girls from the red light districts. Check out their website and see the many girls who now live in safety, surrounded by love, at the Charasia home.
Today in the news, Houston police arrested a mother and grandmother for forcing a 14-year-old girl into prostitution. Child prostitution is a global problem, not just a third-world issue. In fact, Houston is one of the worst cities in the United States for human and sex trafficking. Our geography close to the border and aligned along I-10 and I-45 positions us perfectly for the purposes of the evil people who devote their lives to the devastation of women and children.
I've long enjoyed the band Delta Spirit and every time I listen to their music I'm reminded of one of their most powerful songs, Streetwalker. It's on a mostly happy, mellow album called Ode to Sunshine.
Take a listen and read the lyrics. I hope you find it disturbing and uncomfortable. We all should.
Streetwalker ~ Delta Spirit
Streetwalker knows how to strut right
She knows the truth
Bad boys walking through the corridor
God knows what they're gonna do
Darkness paraded across the headlines:
'Little girl stolen from her bedroom'
Homeless, beat to death or put out
Hopeless, greedy and cruel
Oh why can't I feel for you?
My heart is so blind to you
Her head was spinning like a hurricane
Tina was singing her name
Old men like to rape her in the red light
She's too young and numb to complain
Little boy, bought at the age of six
Down the street, he's wearing a dress
Look at his face, you won't see no innocence
He's got so much experience
Oh why can't I feel for you?
They lie. What can I do?
Oh Love, set me free!
Set me free!
Come on and set me free!
Oh Lord, set me free!
Set me free!
Come on and set me free!
Underground...the German Casanova
Underground...the Panamanian Queen
He whispers: 'Down here the law will never find you.
Down here I'm your god and king.'
It's a sin to sit and just do nothing
There's a special place in hell for me
Oh God I just gotta do something
I swear to God this is happening
Oh Lord, set me free!
Set me free!
It could've been me!
Oh Lord, set them free!
Set them free!
Oh it could have been me...
Today in the news, Houston police arrested a mother and grandmother for forcing a 14-year-old girl into prostitution. Child prostitution is a global problem, not just a third-world issue. In fact, Houston is one of the worst cities in the United States for human and sex trafficking. Our geography close to the border and aligned along I-10 and I-45 positions us perfectly for the purposes of the evil people who devote their lives to the devastation of women and children.
I've long enjoyed the band Delta Spirit and every time I listen to their music I'm reminded of one of their most powerful songs, Streetwalker. It's on a mostly happy, mellow album called Ode to Sunshine.
Take a listen and read the lyrics. I hope you find it disturbing and uncomfortable. We all should.
Streetwalker ~ Delta Spirit
Streetwalker knows how to strut right
She knows the truth
Bad boys walking through the corridor
God knows what they're gonna do
Darkness paraded across the headlines:
'Little girl stolen from her bedroom'
Homeless, beat to death or put out
Hopeless, greedy and cruel
Oh why can't I feel for you?
My heart is so blind to you
Her head was spinning like a hurricane
Tina was singing her name
Old men like to rape her in the red light
She's too young and numb to complain
Little boy, bought at the age of six
Down the street, he's wearing a dress
Look at his face, you won't see no innocence
He's got so much experience
Oh why can't I feel for you?
They lie. What can I do?
Oh Love, set me free!
Set me free!
Come on and set me free!
Oh Lord, set me free!
Set me free!
Come on and set me free!
Underground...the German Casanova
Underground...the Panamanian Queen
He whispers: 'Down here the law will never find you.
Down here I'm your god and king.'
It's a sin to sit and just do nothing
There's a special place in hell for me
Oh God I just gotta do something
I swear to God this is happening
Oh Lord, set me free!
Set me free!
It could've been me!
Oh Lord, set them free!
Set them free!
Oh it could have been me...
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Monday, August 09, 2010
Meet the Neighbors
Some new neighbors moved into the townhouse directly behind ours. We're all for meeting the new neighbors, but we weren't expecting to happen in quite the way it did.
The new guy backed out of his garage...directly into ours.
Our garage is now leaning. Welcome to the neighborhood!
The new guy backed out of his garage...directly into ours.
Our garage is now leaning. Welcome to the neighborhood!
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
From Our Moscow Bureau
I just found an old Moscow update that I somehow forgot to post. My apologies to the Moscow Correspondent for leaving this one unpublished for so long. It's a little hard to empathize with the story in Houston's August heat, but hopefully the QQ readers will enjoy the mental escape.
*******
Winter is a wonderful time. It makes most folks think of snow, warm coats, funny looking ski hats, and hot chocolate (or tea depending which side of the pond you were born). What it should make you think about is falling on the ice.
I've fallen down more times in the past two months than I've fallen in the last 15 years. Last month I fell on the street and literally did the Nestea plunge flat on my back on the hard iced over concrete. The only thing that broke my fall was my coworker's laptop that I had offered to carry home in my backpack (he'll never ask me to do that again).
I've also fallen on the cold frozen granite steps that lead down into the subway. The icing on the cake (get it! Icing!) from that experience was landing on the broken beer bottle that some bum had discarded at the end of the stairwell. I ended up getting glass in my shoe and had to remove both my shoes and socks so that I could get the shards out of my foot (how would you like to have been sitting next to me on the train for that little medical procedure?).
But the best so far was when I fell while walking to the grocery store near my flat. I tried to grab a light pole to keep from falling but it too was iced over. In a last ditch effort I flung my leg around the pole and slid down it until I ended up sitting on my butt in the middle of the busy sidewalk. One guy actually stopped and looked at me and snickered. I like to think he was considering stuffing a dollar bill in my…you get the picture.
I've decided now that the best way to confront my ineptness on the ice is to go to ice skating rinks and practice falling in a controlled environment. I've already been a couple of times this year to the ice skating rinks around town and I believe that it is helping hone my skills for navigating my way to/from the office each day. Don't get me wrong. I still fall occasionally. Come to think of it, I still fall a lot. Maybe if I wore a sequin-covered unitard while walking on this glacier that they call a city I would have more agility. Maybe…
-Chaz Michael Michaels aka The Moscow Correspondent
*******
Winter is a wonderful time. It makes most folks think of snow, warm coats, funny looking ski hats, and hot chocolate (or tea depending which side of the pond you were born). What it should make you think about is falling on the ice.
I've fallen down more times in the past two months than I've fallen in the last 15 years. Last month I fell on the street and literally did the Nestea plunge flat on my back on the hard iced over concrete. The only thing that broke my fall was my coworker's laptop that I had offered to carry home in my backpack (he'll never ask me to do that again).
I've also fallen on the cold frozen granite steps that lead down into the subway. The icing on the cake (get it! Icing!) from that experience was landing on the broken beer bottle that some bum had discarded at the end of the stairwell. I ended up getting glass in my shoe and had to remove both my shoes and socks so that I could get the shards out of my foot (how would you like to have been sitting next to me on the train for that little medical procedure?).
But the best so far was when I fell while walking to the grocery store near my flat. I tried to grab a light pole to keep from falling but it too was iced over. In a last ditch effort I flung my leg around the pole and slid down it until I ended up sitting on my butt in the middle of the busy sidewalk. One guy actually stopped and looked at me and snickered. I like to think he was considering stuffing a dollar bill in my…you get the picture.
I've decided now that the best way to confront my ineptness on the ice is to go to ice skating rinks and practice falling in a controlled environment. I've already been a couple of times this year to the ice skating rinks around town and I believe that it is helping hone my skills for navigating my way to/from the office each day. Don't get me wrong. I still fall occasionally. Come to think of it, I still fall a lot. Maybe if I wore a sequin-covered unitard while walking on this glacier that they call a city I would have more agility. Maybe…
-Chaz Michael Michaels aka The Moscow Correspondent
Thursday, July 29, 2010
It's a frog's life
Last night I got home a bit late, turned on the lights, walked into the kitchen and found this:
Now at first glance you might think it's a cute, harmless, helpless frog like this:
Now at first glance you might think it's a cute, harmless, helpless frog like this:But it wasn't. It was a scaly, shriveled, disgusting frog like this:
So I called every guy I could think of in a ten mile radius to help me get it out of my house. Several of them didn't answer their phones. A few of them responded like this:
But one of them (after laughing a little bit) showed up at my house to rescue me from the clutches of the evil frog, making me think of this:
He then affirmed my decision to call for help by telling me that picking up the frog "was pretty gross" and that I could call him any time I needed help and he would be on the way, which made me feel like this:
And probably made him feel a little like this:
So after the heroic rescue, everyone was happy, except the frog. Who was dead. The end.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Church Music
Anything I could tell you about the David Crowder Band, you probably already know. I'll just say this: David Crowder continues to amaze me with the way he stretches the boundaries of what we consider worship music. I love how he does that. I know of very few Christian musicians who can turn techno-dance music into true, God-glorifying worship. Or conversely, turn an almost erotic love song into passionate delight in the Lord. I LOVE his cover of Flyleaf's All Around Me. It takes worship to a place most of us are uncomfortable with, and yet he makes it so...right. If you haven't heard Church Music yet, give the album a listen.
All Around Me ~ Flyleaf
My hands are searching for you
My arms are outstretched toward you
I feel you on my fingertips
My tongue dances behind my lips for you
This fire rising through my being
Burning, I'm not used to seeing you
I'm alive
I'm alive
I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing
My hands float up above me
And you whisper you love me
And I begin to fade
Into our secret place
The music makes me sway
The angels singing say we are alone with you
I am alone and they are too, with you
I'm alive
I'm alive
I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing
And so I cry
The light is white
And I see you
Take my hand, I give it to you
Now you own me, all I am
You said you would never leave me
I believe you, I believe
All Around Me ~ Flyleaf
My hands are searching for you
My arms are outstretched toward you
I feel you on my fingertips
My tongue dances behind my lips for you
This fire rising through my being
Burning, I'm not used to seeing you
I'm alive
I'm alive
I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing
My hands float up above me
And you whisper you love me
And I begin to fade
Into our secret place
The music makes me sway
The angels singing say we are alone with you
I am alone and they are too, with you
I'm alive
I'm alive
I can feel you all around me
Thickening the air I'm breathing
Holding onto what I'm feeling
Savoring this heart that's healing
And so I cry
The light is white
And I see you
Take my hand, I give it to you
Now you own me, all I am
You said you would never leave me
I believe you, I believe
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Surprise Endings
Not long ago, I was visiting a friend at his house where he was hosting a handful of people for a small party. After the party, as people were clearing up and heading out, he asked me if I'd like a quick tour of his home. Of course, I told him.
He showed me around in the few downstairs areas I hadn't seen before proceeding upstairs. Upstairs, he ushered me into the study (messy), the master bedroom (large) and moved on to the guest bedroom.
He opened the door, we both screamed and he slammed the door shut again.
Any guesses what was behind Door #3?
Yes, dear readers, it was one of my good guy friends, changing clothes before he went to another event.
They called it the special "LJ Tour."
He showed me around in the few downstairs areas I hadn't seen before proceeding upstairs. Upstairs, he ushered me into the study (messy), the master bedroom (large) and moved on to the guest bedroom.
He opened the door, we both screamed and he slammed the door shut again.
Any guesses what was behind Door #3?
Yes, dear readers, it was one of my good guy friends, changing clothes before he went to another event.
They called it the special "LJ Tour."
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Red Bull?
I have a recently developed theory (and by "recently" I mean just this moment) that the best and most universally loved fruits are all red. I mean, think about it for a minute. We all know people who detest bananas. We are ambivalent toward oranges most of the time. Green grapes amuse us for a while, but ultimately don't win the popularity contest. Red is where it's at.
Raspberries
Cherries
Watermelon
Red grapes
Plums
Strawberries
I have no idea what use or purpose this theory has, but since when do theories have to be useful? Also I really wish I could add peaches to the list, but they're not red. They're peach.
Raspberries
Cherries
Watermelon
Red grapes
Plums
Strawberries
I have no idea what use or purpose this theory has, but since when do theories have to be useful? Also I really wish I could add peaches to the list, but they're not red. They're peach.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Revenge of the televangelists
Every once in awhile, I volunteer in my church bookstore. I'm in charge of running a register and helping with customers. Last Sunday, the store was very quiet and only one other volunteer was in there with me. The phone rang and I answered it, hearing an unusual voice on the other end. I couldn't decide if the caller was a man or a woman...it was definitely an older person with a high pitched voice.
The caller asked me my name and I told him/her. Then he/she said "can you find out if your store carries a book I'm looking for?" "Of course," I replied. "It's called I Was Healed, by Benny Hinn," the caller informed me.
Ummm. Houston, we have a problem.
Now I didn't want to be rude to this older she-male on the phone, but I also knew that there was no way my church would carry any of Benny Hinn's books or products. I wasn't sure how to tell her/him that, so I politely said "I don't think we carry that, but let me check our inventory and make sure."
I put the caller on hold and told the other volunteer that this person was looking for a book by Benny Hinn and if we somehow carried it I was quitting then and there.
Of course, it wasn't in our inventory. I got back on the phone and said "I'm so sorry, we don't carry any of Benny Hinn's books."
The caller responded "oh honey I wish you had that book. It's so amazing. I've been a member of the church for 20 years and it's one of the most beautiful books I've ever read. Benny Hinn writes about finding a treasure box and then he opens the box. And do you know what's inside that box?"
"Um, no," I say.
All of a sudden the person's voice changes to a man's voice with a normal pitch and he says "it was filled with a load of crap like I'm giving you!"
I was speechless. The guy starts cracking up laughing, saying "oh I got you! I got you good!" Turns out it was a friend of mine from the church, calling just to mess with me.
He did get me. He got me good. But you know what they say about payback...it's a...hassle.
The caller asked me my name and I told him/her. Then he/she said "can you find out if your store carries a book I'm looking for?" "Of course," I replied. "It's called I Was Healed, by Benny Hinn," the caller informed me.
Ummm. Houston, we have a problem.
Now I didn't want to be rude to this older she-male on the phone, but I also knew that there was no way my church would carry any of Benny Hinn's books or products. I wasn't sure how to tell her/him that, so I politely said "I don't think we carry that, but let me check our inventory and make sure."
I put the caller on hold and told the other volunteer that this person was looking for a book by Benny Hinn and if we somehow carried it I was quitting then and there.
Of course, it wasn't in our inventory. I got back on the phone and said "I'm so sorry, we don't carry any of Benny Hinn's books."
The caller responded "oh honey I wish you had that book. It's so amazing. I've been a member of the church for 20 years and it's one of the most beautiful books I've ever read. Benny Hinn writes about finding a treasure box and then he opens the box. And do you know what's inside that box?"
"Um, no," I say.
All of a sudden the person's voice changes to a man's voice with a normal pitch and he says "it was filled with a load of crap like I'm giving you!"
I was speechless. The guy starts cracking up laughing, saying "oh I got you! I got you good!" Turns out it was a friend of mine from the church, calling just to mess with me.
He did get me. He got me good. But you know what they say about payback...it's a...hassle.
Friday, July 16, 2010
On being forgettable
Before my vacation to Colorado, I sent an email to about a dozen friends, asking if anyone could take me to and pick me up from the airport. Several people responded and I made arrangements with two of them for rides.
One of my guy friends volunteered as the one to pick me up when I arrived back in town. I sent him all my flight information and confirmed that he would be available.
The night before my flight he sent me a text message confirming that he was still scheduled to pick me up.
The morning of my flight he sent me another text message that said he would be at the airport at 8pm to get me.
The night of my flight he forgot me.
One of my guy friends volunteered as the one to pick me up when I arrived back in town. I sent him all my flight information and confirmed that he would be available.
The night before my flight he sent me a text message confirming that he was still scheduled to pick me up.
The morning of my flight he sent me another text message that said he would be at the airport at 8pm to get me.
The night of my flight he forgot me.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Irony, Meet Thy Thief
So yesterday my car was broken into. It was parked in the middle of my office parking lot, surrounded by the coworkers' cars. The "incident" happened some time during the middle of the afternoon, when our parking lot is usually quite busy.
The perpetrator(s) used some sort of tool to wedge between the front and back window and popped the front window to smithereens. It appears they were after a work bag I had in the back seat. I suspect they thought the bag contained a laptop. It didn't. All that was inside was a microphone and digital recorder and other odds and ends of the journalistic trade. They had no use for any of the stuff and dumped it back in the car and ran off. Here's where the irony comes in. My laptop was in the car. It was hidden underneath my driver's side seat. If they had looked closely, they could have seen the edge peeking out. But they missed it completely, got nothing for their time or effort and left me with a busted up car.
Part of me feels victorious. I foiled the would-be villains!
Part of me feels stupid. I left the bag in my car where anyone could see it.
Part of me feels grateful. It could have been much worse than just a broken window.
Mostly I just feel tired. Tired of dealing with grown-up problems. Tired of doing all of this alone. Tired of having no one to turn to and no one to cry with when bad things happen. Tired.
And then I remember that I have someone who sings me to sleep every night (Zeph 3:17). I have someone who loves me with an everlasting love (Jer 31:3). I have someone who satisfies me and makes me feel young again (Psalm 103:5). I have someone who protects me when I feel alone and scared (Psalm 27:5).
I have someone.
The perpetrator(s) used some sort of tool to wedge between the front and back window and popped the front window to smithereens. It appears they were after a work bag I had in the back seat. I suspect they thought the bag contained a laptop. It didn't. All that was inside was a microphone and digital recorder and other odds and ends of the journalistic trade. They had no use for any of the stuff and dumped it back in the car and ran off. Here's where the irony comes in. My laptop was in the car. It was hidden underneath my driver's side seat. If they had looked closely, they could have seen the edge peeking out. But they missed it completely, got nothing for their time or effort and left me with a busted up car.
Part of me feels victorious. I foiled the would-be villains!
Part of me feels stupid. I left the bag in my car where anyone could see it.
Part of me feels grateful. It could have been much worse than just a broken window.
Mostly I just feel tired. Tired of dealing with grown-up problems. Tired of doing all of this alone. Tired of having no one to turn to and no one to cry with when bad things happen. Tired.
And then I remember that I have someone who sings me to sleep every night (Zeph 3:17). I have someone who loves me with an everlasting love (Jer 31:3). I have someone who satisfies me and makes me feel young again (Psalm 103:5). I have someone who protects me when I feel alone and scared (Psalm 27:5).
I have someone.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Different Kinds of Me
Maybe I've been trying too hard. I've been trying to protect you from how things really are, and in the process I lost my pleasure in this blog because it doesn't truly reflect me. I used to love writing as a creative outlet, but now it feels like a chore. Maybe it's time to make my blog what I really want it to be -- a place where I can be myself and not worry about whether the things I'm writing are the things you want to read.
I've always tried to keep the QQ funny and lighthearted. That's because most of the time when I veer away from that pattern, I get burned. People criticize what I say or misunderstand me or tell me they just wish I would go back to being funny again.
But the truth is I'm not just a funny girl. I'm funny and fun and warm and lighthearted, but I'm also deep and melancholy and contemplative and wounded. I'm someone who loves to laugh and I'm someone who cries often. I'm a girl with a great sense of humor, but there's much more to me than that.
My blog isn't the place to share my most personal thoughts or to work out my insecurities and issues. But it is MY blog and can be more than I've allowed it to be recently. I hope you're ok with that. If not, I'm doing it anyway.
*Update: Just as I was about to post this I found out my car was broken into...an ironic continuation of the reality that not everything is happy happy joy joy right now. Sigh.
I've always tried to keep the QQ funny and lighthearted. That's because most of the time when I veer away from that pattern, I get burned. People criticize what I say or misunderstand me or tell me they just wish I would go back to being funny again.
But the truth is I'm not just a funny girl. I'm funny and fun and warm and lighthearted, but I'm also deep and melancholy and contemplative and wounded. I'm someone who loves to laugh and I'm someone who cries often. I'm a girl with a great sense of humor, but there's much more to me than that.
My blog isn't the place to share my most personal thoughts or to work out my insecurities and issues. But it is MY blog and can be more than I've allowed it to be recently. I hope you're ok with that. If not, I'm doing it anyway.
*Update: Just as I was about to post this I found out my car was broken into...an ironic continuation of the reality that not everything is happy happy joy joy right now. Sigh.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Listing
Things I need to blog about, in no particular order:
- Vacation in Colorado
- Being forgettable
- I spy someone naked (almost)
- Friend-Dating
I'm going to try to be better about updating my blog regularly. If you have any suggestions for upcoming entries in the dating series, please let me know. I want to tackle friend-dating, but it's a tough topic! Stay tuned for that soon.
Thanks for sticking around, lovers. xoxo.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Hold, Please
The other day I walked into the ladies room at my office. Someone was in the stall next to me, quite obviously talking on a cell phone. After a few seconds I could tell it was our intern and she was talking to her mom. "Ok," I thought to myself, "talking on your cell in the office restroom is really not an appropriate thing to do, but at least it's just your mom."
Right then she said "Hang on Mom...Dad is calling on the other line."
Right then she said "Hang on Mom...Dad is calling on the other line."
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Fair or Foul?
I frequently store snacks in the office fridge -- things like carrots, hummus, grapes etc. Last week, I put a package of Jello pudding cups in there. That was my first mistake. Never put something in the company fridge that someone else might want to snack on. Fruits and vegetables are usually safe (although I did have some carrots stolen once) and hummus is the safest of all (no one is tempted to dip into someone else's beige paste-like goo). But pudding cups...well...that's a different story. Despite the fact that they were sugar-free and low-calorie, they proved to be too much of a temptation for someone.
So I wasn't terribly surprised when one was missing from the package yesterday. I was surprised, however, to find a dollar bill tucked into the package in place of the missing pudding cup.
Apparently at least one office thief has a guilty conscience.
So what say you? Is it fair to swipe someone's pudding cup as long as you leave compensation? Or is it foul to take what isn't yours and just throw money at the problem?
So I wasn't terribly surprised when one was missing from the package yesterday. I was surprised, however, to find a dollar bill tucked into the package in place of the missing pudding cup.
Apparently at least one office thief has a guilty conscience.
So what say you? Is it fair to swipe someone's pudding cup as long as you leave compensation? Or is it foul to take what isn't yours and just throw money at the problem?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Dating Game: Thanks, But No Thanks
Let's talk about rejection. Since the first entry in my dating series was primarily for the guys, I thought it would be a good idea to address the girls this time.
Rejection is not fun, no matter which side of it you're on. Men don't like to be rejected and women don't like to do the rejecting. It's unpleasant and uncomfortable for everyone involved. That said, there are some guidelines for how to make it easier and less painful.
I talked to a couple of trusted guy friends and asked them specifically if they're going to be turned down, how they would like that to play out. This entry is based directly on their feedback. These guidelines are formed on the presumption that you are rejecting a first date or rejecting someone after a handful of dates...not rejection in a long-term relationship.
Before we get into the nitty gritty...ask yourself this question: Why am I rejecting this guy?
Is it because you have a crush on someone else? That's probably not a valid reason. Is it because you just don't think you're all that attracted to him? Consider giving him a chance. You might be surprised how quickly attraction can develop when you get to know him a little better. There are valid reasons for rejecting someone...but be sure to examine your motives when doing so.
Are you going to regret rejecting him in 6 months or a year? If so, don't reject him, you may not get him back.
Ok, let's talk about what NOT to do. Girls, we have a hard time with wanting to let a guy down easy...we don't want to be mean or rude or dismissive...so we tend to make some of the following mistakes. DON'T!
Rejection is not fun, no matter which side of it you're on. Men don't like to be rejected and women don't like to do the rejecting. It's unpleasant and uncomfortable for everyone involved. That said, there are some guidelines for how to make it easier and less painful.
I talked to a couple of trusted guy friends and asked them specifically if they're going to be turned down, how they would like that to play out. This entry is based directly on their feedback. These guidelines are formed on the presumption that you are rejecting a first date or rejecting someone after a handful of dates...not rejection in a long-term relationship.
Before we get into the nitty gritty...ask yourself this question: Why am I rejecting this guy?
Is it because you have a crush on someone else? That's probably not a valid reason. Is it because you just don't think you're all that attracted to him? Consider giving him a chance. You might be surprised how quickly attraction can develop when you get to know him a little better. There are valid reasons for rejecting someone...but be sure to examine your motives when doing so.
Are you going to regret rejecting him in 6 months or a year? If so, don't reject him, you may not get him back.
Ok, let's talk about what NOT to do. Girls, we have a hard time with wanting to let a guy down easy...we don't want to be mean or rude or dismissive...so we tend to make some of the following mistakes. DON'T!
- DON'T tell him that God is telling you not to date right now. God is probably not telling you not to date, and even if He is your date does not need to know this.
- DON'T tell him that you prayed about it. Chances are you have not actually prayed about dating this guy, and even if you have your date does not need to know this.
- DON'T tell him that if your feelings change you will let him know.
- DON'T flirt with him.
- DON'T ignore him when you run into him. It's rude, and will cause him to lose respect for you.
- DON'T tell him you want to be friends. He is pursuing you, he is not just a friend and does not want to be "just friends" right now.
- DON'T tell him that you hate rejecting guys. It sounds prideful, as though he is one of a long list of men pursuing you.
- DON'T tell him "you are a nice or great guy, but...". Guys hate hearing this.
- DON'T try to encourage him about his life/personality/ministry etc. Allow others to build him up, your job is to leave him alone.
- DO be careful about telling him the things you like about him. He will wonder why you are rejecting him.
Now for the right way to reject a guy:
If the rejection is for a first date...
If the rejection is for a first date...
- DO thank him for asking you out.
- DO decline the offer.
- That is all that is required
If the rejection is after a few dates...
- DO thank him for taking the time to get to know you.
- DO tell him that you have enjoyed getting to know him.
- DO tell him that you do not want to be in a relationship with him right now.
- DO answer any questions he asks you truthfully, but try to stick to all the previous guidelines.
- That is all that is required.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
The Dating Game: Let the blogs begin!
Let's get our feet wet a bit before we jump into the deep end. Today, our topic is How to Compliment a Lady.
I think one of the best ways to start this conversation is by pointing out what NOT to do. Please read this post for an illustration of the wrong way to give a compliment. Ok men, now that you know what NOT to do, you're probably wondering what the heck you should do instead. You may be thinking "what's wrong with telling a girl her necklace is interesting??!" Well, my romance-challenged friends, there is nothing wrong with saying that to a girl. But it won't woo her and it probably won't even make her feel all that special or even encouraged. So here's my list of pointers for how to say something nice to a girl.*
OH! One more thought...Men, please be aware that we girls realize sometimes you get tongue-tied. It's ok if you don't get every compliment just right. In fact, it can even be endearing to see you bumble and fumble your way through a compliment. But we do like to hear nice things and be appreciated, so I offer my list for your perusal and insight. That's why I call these "guidelines" and not "rules."
*Note: It's ok to compliment a girl, even if you're not trying to woo her. Kind words don't have to equal flirting.
I think one of the best ways to start this conversation is by pointing out what NOT to do. Please read this post for an illustration of the wrong way to give a compliment. Ok men, now that you know what NOT to do, you're probably wondering what the heck you should do instead. You may be thinking "what's wrong with telling a girl her necklace is interesting??!" Well, my romance-challenged friends, there is nothing wrong with saying that to a girl. But it won't woo her and it probably won't even make her feel all that special or even encouraged. So here's my list of pointers for how to say something nice to a girl.*
- Use "Pretty" Words - "Your dress is pretty." "Your new hair cut is really nice." "The cookies you made are delicious." This seems like a simple concept, but I think it's lost on a lot of men. Words like "interesting," "cool," and "awesome" all have their place in conversation. But they are guy words when it comes to compliments. Girls feel much more appreciated and special when you use pretty words.
- Be Sincere - Mean what you say and say what you mean. Girls can tell when you're just using a line.
- Be Specific - Women appreciate it when you notice the details. Some of the best compliments go beyond the obvious. Every woman loves to hear that she is beautiful. But it is even greater to hear specifically WHY you think she is beautiful. Examples: "LJ, I love how green your eyes are." "Your smile is beautiful." "It was really great to see the way you helped at XYZ event. I was impressed by how compassionate you are."
- Move On - Make the compliment, let her respond, and then move on to other topics. It tends to make girls feel a teeny bit creeped out when a guy says something like "I really like your dress" and then just stands there looking at her in the dress. Or if you say "Wow, I love it when you fix your hair that way" and then stare at her hair...well you get the idea. All I'm saying is don't get bogged down in the compliment and stay there. Keep the conversation moving.
OH! One more thought...Men, please be aware that we girls realize sometimes you get tongue-tied. It's ok if you don't get every compliment just right. In fact, it can even be endearing to see you bumble and fumble your way through a compliment. But we do like to hear nice things and be appreciated, so I offer my list for your perusal and insight. That's why I call these "guidelines" and not "rules."
*Note: It's ok to compliment a girl, even if you're not trying to woo her. Kind words don't have to equal flirting.
Monday, May 31, 2010
No greater love than this...
He is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane --
I am a tree...bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
and I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me
Oh how He loves us, oh.
Oh how He loves us.
How He loves us, oh.
Yeah He loves us! O how He loves us!
O how He loves us!
O how He loves!
We are His portion and He is our prize
drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking!
Heaven meets Earth like an unforseen kiss
and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way that...
He loves us! O how He loves us! O how He loves us! O how He loves!
Loves like a hurricane --
I am a tree...bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
and I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me
Oh how He loves us, oh.
Oh how He loves us.
How He loves us, oh.
Yeah He loves us! O how He loves us!
O how He loves us!
O how He loves!
We are His portion and He is our prize
drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking!
Heaven meets Earth like an unforseen kiss
and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way that...
He loves us! O how He loves us! O how He loves us! O how He loves!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Hoodwinked
I promise the dating blogs are forthcoming. I just haven't had the time to dedicate to them as yet. Hopefully this week I'll start the series. In the meantime, a tidbit from today.
I had a couple pairs of pants that needed alterations, so I took them to a little alterations shop on W. Gray. Mr. Sung was the tailor in charge and proceeded to measure, tuck and pin the two pairs of pants I brought in. He told me when they would be ready and I asked him if I should pay now or when I pick them up. He said either way was fine, so I opted to pay in advance.
"How much?" I asked.
"One hundred dolla," he replied, without blinking an eye.
"Excuse me?! One hundred dollars?! To hem some pants??"
"Well, one hundred dolla for this pair and one hundred dolla for other pair. Two hundred dolla together."
Then he started chuckling. Oh I see we've got a pranster on our hands. Well played, Mr. Sung. Well played.
I had a couple pairs of pants that needed alterations, so I took them to a little alterations shop on W. Gray. Mr. Sung was the tailor in charge and proceeded to measure, tuck and pin the two pairs of pants I brought in. He told me when they would be ready and I asked him if I should pay now or when I pick them up. He said either way was fine, so I opted to pay in advance.
"How much?" I asked.
"One hundred dolla," he replied, without blinking an eye.
"Excuse me?! One hundred dollars?! To hem some pants??"
"Well, one hundred dolla for this pair and one hundred dolla for other pair. Two hundred dolla together."
Then he started chuckling. Oh I see we've got a pranster on our hands. Well played, Mr. Sung. Well played.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The Dating Game
I'm thinking about writing a blog series on dating. I'd be writing from a single girl's perspective, which means most of my experience is of the DON'T DO THIS variety. A lot of my advice is for guys because, let's face it, you guys are kinda running the show a lot of the time (even when the show seems to be cancelled or taking a long hiatus).
My only concerns are people getting ticked off or having their feelings hurt. Most of my readers are single, so it's an issue that is near and dear to our hearts. Because it's a sensitive subject, I don't want people to get their panties in a wad if my opinions don't exactly jive with theirs. And I'd want folks to remember these are, in fact, my OPINIONS. It's not the dating gospel, just the dating suggestion box.
So, what do QQ readers think? Can you handle it? Are you ok if some feathers get ruffled? Will you agree not to take anything I say TOO seriously, but to give it consideration and thought? Will you pledge to forward my dating series to "repeat dating offenders"? Ok, you don't have to pledge to do that...but at least you have the option. Consider it my gift to all you passive-aggressive types out there who want to seize the opportunity.
Thoughts?
My only concerns are people getting ticked off or having their feelings hurt. Most of my readers are single, so it's an issue that is near and dear to our hearts. Because it's a sensitive subject, I don't want people to get their panties in a wad if my opinions don't exactly jive with theirs. And I'd want folks to remember these are, in fact, my OPINIONS. It's not the dating gospel, just the dating suggestion box.
So, what do QQ readers think? Can you handle it? Are you ok if some feathers get ruffled? Will you agree not to take anything I say TOO seriously, but to give it consideration and thought? Will you pledge to forward my dating series to "repeat dating offenders"? Ok, you don't have to pledge to do that...but at least you have the option. Consider it my gift to all you passive-aggressive types out there who want to seize the opportunity.
Thoughts?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
I'm all right, don't I always seem to be?
Aren't I swinging on the stars?
Don't I wear them on my sleeve?
When you're looking for a crossroads,
it happens every day.
And whichever way you turn,
I'm gonna turn the other way.
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming,
Say I'm better than you left me.
Say you're sorry, I can take it.
Say you'll wait, say you won't.
Say you love me, say you don't.
I can make my own mistakes...
and learn to let it bend before it breaks.
~Brandi Carlile
Aren't I swinging on the stars?
Don't I wear them on my sleeve?
When you're looking for a crossroads,
it happens every day.
And whichever way you turn,
I'm gonna turn the other way.
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming,
Say I'm better than you left me.
Say you're sorry, I can take it.
Say you'll wait, say you won't.
Say you love me, say you don't.
I can make my own mistakes...
and learn to let it bend before it breaks.
~Brandi Carlile
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
There's a fungus among us
I'm about to bring up a polarizing subject. This is something that will probably have my readers divided into very vocal and opposing camps. I am referring, of course, to mushrooms.
Mushrooms might be my most favoritest vegetable-that's-not-really-a-vegetable. I like raw mushrooms. I like sauteed mushrooms. I like them in soup. I like them in salad. I like them on my chicken. I like them on my beef. I like them on my body (ok that just got weird. I was rolling with the Dr. Seuss thing a little too long.)
I like big mushrooms and I cannot lie. Them other brothas can't deny...ahem. Sorry. I got sidetracked again.
Today, I was eating the leftovers of a pretty darn impressive stirfry that I made last night. It had chicken and fresh green beans and MUSHROOMS and my first thought was "Dear Lean Cuisine, why do I let you do all the cooking when I'm so much better at it than you are?"
My second thought was "I luv u, little mushroom. I luv u so mush."
Mushrooms might be my most favoritest vegetable-that's-not-really-a-vegetable. I like raw mushrooms. I like sauteed mushrooms. I like them in soup. I like them in salad. I like them on my chicken. I like them on my beef. I like them on my body (ok that just got weird. I was rolling with the Dr. Seuss thing a little too long.)
I like big mushrooms and I cannot lie. Them other brothas can't deny...ahem. Sorry. I got sidetracked again.
Today, I was eating the leftovers of a pretty darn impressive stirfry that I made last night. It had chicken and fresh green beans and MUSHROOMS and my first thought was "Dear Lean Cuisine, why do I let you do all the cooking when I'm so much better at it than you are?"
My second thought was "I luv u, little mushroom. I luv u so mush."
Monday, May 10, 2010
Awkwardly Hilarious
This sort of changes how I feel about Star Wars. And how I feel about birth announcements. Sometimes less is more. But less wouldn't be nearly as funny.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Because you can never have too many blog entries about boobs...
In case you missed it the first time around, you might want to read this entry before you move on to the rest of my story.
Ok, we all on the same page? mk, then.
A text conversation. From a guy to me.
Text from him: I just saw a bumper sticker that goes with the "boobs rock" shirt. It said "I love my tatas." It made me laugh. :)
Text from me: lol. I love that this is becoming a running joke.
Text from him: And that I thought of you?
Text from me: Well...that goes with the territory.
Ok, we all on the same page? mk, then.
A text conversation. From a guy to me.
Text from him: I just saw a bumper sticker that goes with the "boobs rock" shirt. It said "I love my tatas." It made me laugh. :)
Text from me: lol. I love that this is becoming a running joke.
Text from him: And that I thought of you?
Text from me: Well...that goes with the territory.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
What NOT to Say: Part Two
I'm finally getting around to sharing the second part in our series on men saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment. You may want to refresh your memory on Part One, starring Awkward Guy.
That very same night I was at dinner with some friends. Two guys were sitting across from me at the table and we were all chatting about various subjects. In the middle of one conversation, one of the guys stopped, looked at my necklace and said "LJ, what exactly is that?" Ummm...it's a necklace, I pointed out. Now granted, it was an elaborate necklace with a ribbon rosette and asymmetrical style. "Some people would call it a 'statement' necklace," I elaborated. The second guy chimed in "what statement is it supposed to be making?"
"It's saying I'm fabulous," I quickly replied.
"No, it's not saying that," he said, without a pause.
Excuse me? I'd like to take this opportunity to make a Public Service Announcement. Any time a lady makes a reference about her fabulousness, DON'T REFUTE HER! Isn't this somewhere in the How to Talk to Ladies Manual or something?
Ok...back to my story. I'm pretty sure the look on my face communicated exactly how foolish his statement had been. But just in case, I followed up with a "are you sure that's really what you meant to say?"
"No...no...I meant that you don't NEED a necklace to prove how fabulous you are. The necklace doesn't define you. I mean it's not about the necklace..." he fumbled.
Uh huh.
Now this is the point at which the first guy could have really saved the day and make himself look really good at the same time. How many of you think he pulled it off? Any takers? I didn't think so.
"I think your necklace is...interesting," he said.
Wow. That's a fantastic compliment, if ever I heard one. It's like I'm wearing a science experiment. Interesting.
Now I will say these two guys did make a good effort at redeeming themselves. I pointed out to them the amazing cluelessness of their comments to me and the fact that they needed some serious help in how to compliment a lady. At which point, the first guy amended his statement to say "I think your necklace is lovely" and the second guy jumped in with "No, Laurie. YOU are lovely."
I think it's time for me to put on a workshop. If you need as much help as these two guys, sign up here. Ladies, feel free to submit applications on behalf of any men you know who need serious intervention.
That very same night I was at dinner with some friends. Two guys were sitting across from me at the table and we were all chatting about various subjects. In the middle of one conversation, one of the guys stopped, looked at my necklace and said "LJ, what exactly is that?" Ummm...it's a necklace, I pointed out. Now granted, it was an elaborate necklace with a ribbon rosette and asymmetrical style. "Some people would call it a 'statement' necklace," I elaborated. The second guy chimed in "what statement is it supposed to be making?"
"It's saying I'm fabulous," I quickly replied.
"No, it's not saying that," he said, without a pause.
Excuse me? I'd like to take this opportunity to make a Public Service Announcement. Any time a lady makes a reference about her fabulousness, DON'T REFUTE HER! Isn't this somewhere in the How to Talk to Ladies Manual or something?
Ok...back to my story. I'm pretty sure the look on my face communicated exactly how foolish his statement had been. But just in case, I followed up with a "are you sure that's really what you meant to say?"
"No...no...I meant that you don't NEED a necklace to prove how fabulous you are. The necklace doesn't define you. I mean it's not about the necklace..." he fumbled.
Uh huh.
Now this is the point at which the first guy could have really saved the day and make himself look really good at the same time. How many of you think he pulled it off? Any takers? I didn't think so.
"I think your necklace is...interesting," he said.
Wow. That's a fantastic compliment, if ever I heard one. It's like I'm wearing a science experiment. Interesting.
Now I will say these two guys did make a good effort at redeeming themselves. I pointed out to them the amazing cluelessness of their comments to me and the fact that they needed some serious help in how to compliment a lady. At which point, the first guy amended his statement to say "I think your necklace is lovely" and the second guy jumped in with "No, Laurie. YOU are lovely."
I think it's time for me to put on a workshop. If you need as much help as these two guys, sign up here. Ladies, feel free to submit applications on behalf of any men you know who need serious intervention.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Most Random Email Ever
I got this email last week from a complete stranger. At first I thought it was spam, but then realized it was genuine.
"Laurie,
I think we're just going to go ahead and rent a costume for you. Something very gypsy-looking. We have already ordered you a long black wig to wear under the turban."
He then proceeded to ask me for my exact measurements...height/weight/dress size/bust/waist/hips etc...
The whole thing really REALLY makes me want to know what role I'm playing...
"Laurie,
I think we're just going to go ahead and rent a costume for you. Something very gypsy-looking. We have already ordered you a long black wig to wear under the turban."
He then proceeded to ask me for my exact measurements...height/weight/dress size/bust/waist/hips etc...
The whole thing really REALLY makes me want to know what role I'm playing...
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