the world of dale

the snarkler

2010-12-29T19:07:00.002-05:00

I have a new blog. Please enjoy: The Snarkler

death, poop, and love

2010-04-04T11:40:00.000-04:00

Many a comedian has made jokes about how public speaking is people's number one fear and death is second. What is a fear of death is really a fear of uncertainty- we don't know what's going to happen. If there was a way to know that after death we got to go to heaven and party like rock stars for eternity, we'd look forward to it. But we don't know. Uncertainty is scary- that's why people resist change.

The fear related to public speaking is the fear of vulnerability. People don't like being in the inferior position of power. When I taught public speaking, instead of telling my students to picture the audience naked, I would tell them to picture the audience pooping. Pooping is the ultimate vulnerability. Not only do you have the nudity aspect, you are trapped. You are a slave to your body's physiological function- not to mention a function that is kind of stinky.

Those are our two ultimate fears- vulnerability and uncertainty. And that's why love is such a scary proposition. It's those two things together- you are allowing someone to have some control over your fate, your happiness, and you have no idea what's going to happen.

I personally don't enjoy feeling feelings. Moods are okay. I like being happy. But feeling emotions is a bit uncomfortable, even if it's joy. Therefore, I'm a commitment-phobe. Besides my dedication to Verizon Wireless, I can't keep a commitment to anything. If I live in an apartment for more than 2 years, it's like a long-term home for me. I've never had a "real job" and definitely not a career. And boys- well, they are like buses. You miss one, and there will either be another one, or that one will come back around.

I'm not advocating this mindset by any means. I'm sure that there is a lot to be gained by being in touch with your feelings and open to love and willing to poop in someone's presence for the rest of your life. But I'm going to stick with my shallow existence for now.

A last couple notes- I haven't been writing on here as much because I've been writing on The Cincinnati Man. You can read my stuff there and on my Twitter.

Also, why is poop such a funnier word than poo? Any insight?

my new gig

2010-01-05T19:52:00.002-05:00

So I think I mentioned that I was going to be writing an advice column for the site I write for - The Cincinnati Man.

Here's the genesis: Check With a Chick

Send a question or something. Read it. What have you.

Love and hugs

Trying to keep my brain alive

2009-12-16T08:57:00.002-05:00

I got a job.

It's good news. Because I didn't have a job. And money not only makes the world go 'round, it keeps me fed and clothed. Some of my favorite things to be are fed and clothed.

On the other hand, it's kind of a soulless job. It's boring, and 30 miles away. It leaves me little time for laundry, cleaning my house, going out with friends, playing with the dog, and above all, writing.

I've still written a couple things for The Cincinnati Man, and I'll be starting an advice column for them after the first of the year. So check that out if you're in total withdrawal. Hopefully at some point I'll get to the point where the job doesn't leave me devoid of creativity at the end of the day. My brain will stop its atrophy and I'll start thinking of things I want to say.

Thanks for reading. It never ceases to amaze me that people besides me like reading this shit. Love ya.

absence makes the heart...

2009-09-27T22:47:00.002-04:00

Hm... grow fonder? Not really so much growing fonder but the absence allows for the burgeoning resentment to recede. I'm talking about the blog, of course.

That 30-day blog-a-thon was rough. I'm not going to lie- at the end, I was really getting to the point where I dreaded having to get on here. I wrote each one live that day- so there was no backlog when I didn't feel like writing. When I couldn't get to my computer and it was more stressful than fun or insightful. It was this total pain in the ass. But in the end, I'm glad I did it. Actually, the day after the last post- I was still staying at my parents' house, the computer was still broken, and I got home from a very long, stressful day, and the idea of trying to figure out a way to get the blog done was more than I could bear. I didn't care one way or another. The next morning, I looked at my calendar and realized that was day 31. Like, I had written on it every day for 30 days (including my lame-ass one from Dave's BlackBerry at the Bengals' game). So, I had made my goal and didn't even realize it. I felt like I was still only 2 weeks in.

A commitment completed, so to speak. I guess I might eventually become a grownup after all.

i am my beloved's and my beloved is mine

2009-09-09T21:58:00.002-04:00

We all know that I fear commitment. Besides my 11-year relationship with Verizon Wireless and the same phone number, I can't stay in the same apartment, job, neighborhood, et cetera for longer than a year or two. Relationships envy the 1-year lease I will sign to an apartment.

I pride myself on my flexibility- not physically (because I'm not), but emotionally, mentally, and socially. I have a wide variety of friends, interests, and I'm pretty comfortable most everywhere. Except funerals. I am the person at funerals making unfunny puns or trying to ease tension with a joke that is neither appropriate or humorous. But people are often surprised to meet my circle of friends. There are tomboys and metrosexuals, good ol' boys and high maintenance ladies, young and old, gay and straight- there is nobody missing from my spectrum of friends.

While I'm generally not the type to feel like I have to have an escape route- I'm not going to leave town tomorrow. I can be spontaneous, but it's usually more of a lackadaisical/ooh, you're right- that would be fun than a case of cabin fever. But I also like to know there isn't too many things or people that I have to have around. I can go with the flow. I can not answer my phone while out with friends. I can eat most anything or anywhere. I can sleep in any position. Besides a strong aversion to porta-potties and a complete revulsion to going to the bathroom outdoors, I can hang with most situations for at least a while.

Ain't nothing gonna hold me down, oh no, I got to keep on movin'...

Sort of.

I came disastrously close to not making my blog post today. I'm at my parents' house, and their computer has apparently been sleeping around, because it's got a nasty virus (I told them to cover it with a rubber sheet at night). I got to the local library 7 minutes after close. Panic was setting in. I realized I had no way to access the Internet. The Internet, where I communicate, where I work (sort of), where I pay bills and make sure they're paid. I need you, Internet. I don't want you, but I need you.

Do you need me? Probably not. But like some kind of evolutionary mutual parasitism, you can't exist without the Dales of the world. Is the Internet my only contact with humans? No. I could get by without it. It would be difficult, but it seems like even America managed to scrimmage around for a couple hundred years without it. I remember looking at Prodigy on my friend Maggie's computer in the late 80s and thinking, "this is the dumbest shit I've ever seen. Why sit in a room by yourself, talking to people you'll never meet?" And tonight, I'm sitting at my parents' little computer desk with a borrowed laptop (thanks Katrina!) in front of their temporarily useless monitor, pecking out a little blog that probably nobody outside of my social circle reads because if I didn't- well, I don't know what would happen, but I prefer not to find out.

It's an unequal relationship I have with the Internet. But it is a commitment, and that's a good first step.

paper or plastic?

2009-09-08T21:37:00.002-04:00

More and more I have been considering my actions and the effect they have on the environment. I was big into environmental issues when it was fashionable in the late 80s- all about saving whales and rain forests and that jazz. Some habits stuck- I still turn off the water while brushing my teeth. Other habits gave way to convenience or finances or just a general lack of awareness.

But over time, I returned to giving notice, in no small part due to the resurgence in popularity of environmentalism. I have reusable grocery bags (and then run out of poo bags for my dog). I recycle everything the city will take away, and bring batteries and other hazardous recyclables to the appropriate drop-off. I try to be fuel-efficient. Even small things, like declining a paper receipt or mailed bank statements have become routine.

I appreciate things of an organic nature. I'm trying more and more to get local and organic food (if and when I can afford it). In an odd way, I feel like everything that is synthetic is just plastic. To me, there is no essential difference between Twinkies and Tupperware- and I figure you could break all of it down to something explosive and flammable at some point. I realize that this is inaccurate, but I'm not a chemist or physicist and I'm not even sure what branch of science this argument falls under. I'm okay with that. The gist is that I try to take care of the planet and show concern for it.

There is, however, an arena where I am unable to go paperless. As environmentally conscious as the Kindle may be (and as far as my chemistry knowledge goes, it could take x-rays for all I know), I can't let go of books. I need them. No matter how long I can be on this computer, I can't read the same thing for longer than 5 or 10 minutes. Oh, this article has a link I need to click to get to the next page? Hope there was nothing important, because I don't have the attention span for that. But a book. Oh, there is something beautiful and romantic and sentimental about a book. And I'm not reading beautiful, romantic, or sentimental books, in general. I read sports books and essayists and a lot of non-fiction. But I can't go anywhere without a book in my bag. I went to the library today with 3 or 4 books in mind that I wanted to check out. The online catalog was down (and of course, no real card catalog... damn technology), so a librarian checked their backup system for my books- none of which were available. So, none of those books were there, and I couldn't really look up anything else. I wandered around for a bit, checking out the new books section and the library's recent "popular items" section. A recap:

1. They did not have any of the 3-4 books I went to get.
2. The card catalog was down, so I couldn't search the locations of any books.
3. I browsed probably a total of 10-12 sets of shelves between the two sections.

I left with 11 books, including Twain, MLK, Tim Gunn, and Perez Hilton.

I'm going to go plant a few trees now.

wheel of fortune

2009-09-07T22:26:00.006-04:00

It started innocently enough. Back in 1938, 40 years before I was born, a show came on the television called Spelling Bee. It was the very first television game show. Like the Colorado River making the Grand Canyon, that first game show resulted in an entire cable network devoted to game shows, past and present.

Not only do game shows keep appearing (and reappearing- thanks a lot, Howie Mandel), but at some point, a television producer realized that people loved when the contestants were bat-shit crazy. The more emotional and out-of-control the contestant, the more the viewers watched. It wasn't just being able to guess prices or answer trivia or avoid whammies. It was people acting a fool at the chance to win a freezer and a mid-sized sedan. Reality television was conceived.

Reality television preys on the unstable, who sign up to participate, and the schadenfreudeian nature of humans to take pleasure in the suffering of others to account for viewers. What began with things like American Idol became Survivor and then Rock of Love and so on. There is now a cable channel devoted to reality shows. There is a show where someone is locked in a room by themselves to see how long they can last. That's it. No other premise than trying to drive someone insane.

There is a reason why reality television is so popular, and it's not because viewers like it. They do like it, but they also liked Seinfeld and Cheers and The Simpsons plenty of other scripted shows. The main reason is they are moneymakers. Major moneymakers. It's all economics.

On a scripted show, the producers have to pay writers and actors in addition to the stage crew. Writers and actors who belong to unions and guilds. Writers and actors who, if the show is successful, will be there for years, getting raises and new contracts.

On a reality show, they throw out about a million dollars in prizes (money, goods, contracts, whatever). They spend more than that on lawyers who can make sure every contract is ironclad. The insurance takes up some cash, but it still doesn't compare to the total for a scripted show. And these shows are getting a LOT of advertising money. Some finales are scoring ad revenue that only the Super Bowl can dwarf. People watch, they vote, they go online and discuss. American Idol takes in ad revenue, and then shows those kids around the country while selling tickets and merchandise that would make Miley Cyrus green with envy.

I don't really watch reality shows (does Iron Chef count? what about House Hunters?). I don't really watch scripted shows either. Some HGTV and Food Network, Daily Show and Colbert, and sports. I'd always prefer to live life than watch it. I have cable, but not DVR, and the idea of having to be home to watch something instead of spending time with friends.

I guess you'd say I prefer reality.

a rose by any other name...

2009-09-06T18:39:00.004-04:00

Could very well smell like shit. Names are important. Not just in how one is perceived by others, but how one perceives oneself.

I have a weird name. It's gender-ambiguous as well as being uncommon. People remember me because my name is Dale. When I entered sorority rush, everyone remembered me or knew me because I was "that girl named Dale."

It's a family name. Not only do my father and late grandfather share the name, I have a female cousin named Dale as well. We are either a sentimental family or an unoriginal one. I suppose there's no reason we can't be both. I was going to be named Dale if I had been a boy, although I would have had a different middle name and been the III. I've never understood why I didn't still receive my dad and grandpa's middle name; it's Avery, which is a gender-neutral name as well. But I have Marie (my grandmother's middle name- our unoriginality knows no ends). My mother tells me the only other female name they considered was her grandmother's name- Greta. If you know me, you know that the idea of me as Greta is as bizarre as if I had a third arm. I am not a Greta, or a Tiffany, or a Rebecca. I'm a Dale. People even say that it seems to fit me perfectly.

As a child, I wasn't that thrilled with my name. I wanted to go by Bebe, which is the nickname my entire family uses for me. At age 30, everyone from my parents to second cousins twice removed call me Bebe. I wouldn't even turn my head if my sister called me Dale. Likewise, if my friends called me Bebe, I would continue to daydream.

It's not just my own experience which reinforces this theory. Studies have been done where teachers are given random essays which are assigned names that are considered "desirable" and "normal," i.e., Michael, Katie, Amy, Joe and some that are less desirable- Bert, Elmer, Agnes, Dorothy (sounds to me like those are just old people names, but I digress). Regardless of the essay, the students with normal names received significantly higher scores. A similar study conducted a faux election where some candidates had standard all-American names and some had names that conferred a more ethnic vibe. Again, respondents voted for the all-Americans... regardless of their own backgrounds, remarkably.

More recent studies have shown that young men who have uncommon names or unpopular names (especially ones with a feminine undertone) were more likely to commit crimes, be violent, or get into trouble in general.

I knew a girl in college named Amber. She said she hated her name- she called it a stripper name. She didn't like her middle name either (I think it was Jean?), which she called an old lady name. I know people who refuse to tell middle names because they find them so repellent. I used to be annoyed with my last name, only because it is consistently misspelled and mispronounced. It also sounds too similar to pants and putz. But now, I'm the last of the line, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Many American Indian tribes gave temporary names to children until they reached adolescence, when they would choose a name for themselves. Generally part of the naming process was a vision quest- figuring out who they are and what they want to be, and name themselves accordingly. Seems like those tribes didn't even need the research.

Maybe a rose would smell as sweet if it was called a turd. But I don't see people taking their chances on naming their sons Elmer and Herbert.

the universal language

2009-09-05T19:55:00.003-04:00

Music is so freakishly universal that it must be part of our DNA. There is a survival instinct to it. There is no culture that doesn't have it (I majored in communication, not English, and therefore I will use double negatives to my heart's content). It's used to mourn. It's used to celebrate. It's used to communicate in myriad ways. It soothes. It energizes. It is art, but in a league of its own, because it's so accessible and so essential. We have music playing in the car, at parties, even in stores. We can go without reading literature. We can go without sculpture. But music is integral to our being, whether we can create it or not.

I love to dance. Dancing is like my religion. I feel closest to God when I'm dancing my ass off at a club, sweating like crazy, eyes closed, nothing but me and music and movement. I was at a volunteer event where I had shoveled mulch for about 6 hours straight on about 2 hours of sleep. I was exhausted, sore, dehydrated, and more than a little cranky. And then the DJ at the happy hour put on "Groove is in the Heart" by Dee-Lite. And the empty dance floor (which was really just where some tables had been moved away) beckoned me. I told the person to whom I was speaking, "I'll be right back." And I danced. For over 5 minutes (it was a true DJ, spinning vinyl, and he had a dancer, so it was on), I wasn't tired, I wasn't sore, and I wasn't cranky. I danced until the final echoes of the mix were done, and then I came back and resumed my conversation. The guy I'd been talking to said something like, what the heck? Where did that energy come from? How did you even do that, we're all so beat? And I said, "I like to dance."

Blues originated out of slavery. Hymns originated out of persecution. Rap originated out of the ghetto. Art comes from suffering, but only in music does it truly heal. It's an ointment, a salve. It is aloe on the burn.

I got to see a great band last night. It was one of those, "my friend's friend's band is playing- wanna go see them?" kind of things where it might be great or it might be the worst experience of your life. When this guy took out a cigar box banjo and plugged it into the amp, I knew it was going to be great. In the little parlor area of a smoky bar in northern Kentucky, we slid the tables out of the way, put down the whiskey and beers, and danced.

I'll go to church tomorrow, but I'm not going to get any closer to God than I did last night.

i'm just not that into you

2009-09-04T16:29:00.002-04:00

I love boys. They are pretty much my favorite thing. If I don't have some crush, I will find one. I need someone to daydream about, because otherwise I might end up thinking about less fun things like my future or my bills. My junior year of college (and maybe my sophomore year too), I had an entire wall of my dorm room papered with pages from the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. Come to think of it... I should do something like that again. I liked it.

I am also a major flirt. Flirting, to me, isn't so much a sexual thing as it is a relational thing. Being friendly. Flattery (as long as it's genuine). Making people feel good about themselves. Flirting isn't something I do as a matter of courtship but as a matter of interpersonal communication. Because it's not par for the course, people get confused with me wanton flirting. Men (and women) think I'm flirting in a wooing way instead of a friendly way. They think I'm interested in them beyond being friends. But I'm not.

In college, a (male) friend told me that guys were afraid to ask me out because nobody knew who I was actually interested in because I flirted with everyone. I'm thinking that's not such a bad thing. Even the guys I did like, I never liked them enough to get too broken up over any one of them. I like to refer to them as crudites on my platter. Maybe the celery looks a little brown, so I grab a red pepper. Someone else loves broccoli- they are welcome to it.

The problem comes when the object of my disinterest becomes convinced that I am in love. Trust me, even the most obsessive of crushes fades as easily as it blooms. I lose interest like a kid with ADD in algebra class. But there is no telling the person that they aren't the object of my affection. Hell, I can't even tell them there is NO object of my affection. Ergo, I lose friends that think I'm love when I'm merely a gushy, flirty, boy-crazy silly girl.

When one of these folk do convince themselves that I am the one monitoring their comings and goings via Google Earth, I'm tempted to throw myself at them- ironically, of course. But since I'm not a hipster, I'm afraid it will go over their head. It would be fun though.

I was in love once. It totally sucked in every way, but I'm not opposed to giving it a go at some point. Before the love and after, though... boys were something to keep me amused and still are. So, apologies, but:

I'm just not that into you.

let's agree to disagree

2009-09-03T16:45:00.002-04:00

Ordinarily, I would not discuss politics on the internet (I especially hate getting caught up in a comment war on Facebook). Actually, I don't really like to discuss politics in general. People get fired up, and the chances of us changing each other's minds is slim to none. Especially now that people think that they have to defend their opinion at all costs- regardless of any new information being presented. I would venture to say that this is a result of cable news channels. There are two that are especially polarizing. The other viewpoint is presented so much as ridiculed. The remaining major news network relies on viewer emails and random tweets to fill the supposed 24/7 news cycle. I don't really like to watch either network. I prefer to have my news without such an overt agenda. I watched the presidential debates on C-SPAN. Yes, it's kinda boring to watch the video when people are randomly walking around before the debate, but it's still better than listening to a pundit explain why the candidate they favor is so obviously superior and their opponent is maybe not the evil incarnate, but pretty damn close.

I am fairly certain that part of the journalism ethic is to not have a personal bias. Naturally, that's impossible. But it is possible to avoid blatant endorsement. It's possible to provide experts on both sides of the argument. It's possible to research what the real story is. It's possible to not engage in sensationalism. It's possible to find people who know what they're talking about instead of just what they want to say.

I'll admit that I fall on the more liberal side of the spectrum. Okay, all the way on the left side. But I don't watch MSNBC either. As much as I love Jon Stewart, I sometimes wish that he didn't let his liberal leanings to affect how he "reports." We aren't doing ourselves any favors by doing the same thing as Fox News, just on the other side. You aren't going to inform, you're not going to convince, and you're only going to contribute to the growing divide.

I am in favor of health care reform. Not just because I am a liberal. Not just because I haven't had health insurance in over 2 years. But because I know how messed up health care and insurance is- even without watching Sicko. You can be dropped from your insurance if you get sick and rack up too many bills (actually, most plans can drop you for whatever reason they see fit). If you don't have insurance, you can go to the emergency room- by law, they can't turn you away. But, the hospital still wants to get paid. And if they don't get paid by the government, they are coming after you. They can wait until you get a job and then garnish your wages, just like any other creditor. And remember that whole "ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure?" It's true. It's much cheaper to provide preventive care than to try to cure someone once they are already sick.

But whether you agree with the reform or not, whether you are conservative, liberal, or moderate, try to find a news source that gives all sides. Not just the one you with which you agree.

a topic assigned to me by my mother

2009-09-02T21:00:00.002-04:00

My mom had offered to come up with some topics for me when I started out on this 30 (now 31) day adventure. I'm digging into them for the first time... so today's topic, or assignment, is:

"My Favorite President and Why"

People who know what a freaking crazy liberal I am are going to expect me to say FDR or Clinton, or even Obama, despite the fact he's been president for less time than babies gestate. But, no. My favorite president is likely not a favorite of anyone, because he's just kind of... forgettable.

For one thing, he was early on in the line. After the first 3, everyone kind of forgets until Lincoln, and then again until Kennedy. There are other presidents, but once you pass 8th grade civics, you pretty much forget about them.

Because I am a dork, I read all the time. I read even more when I was a kid. I read cereal boxes. I read my mom's Family Circle magazines. I read under the covers, I read in the shower. I couldn't leave the library without at least a dozen books (I still can't). One of the books I happened upon (a librarian may have recommended it; I don't remember) was a biography of James Madison. Perhaps it was because it was written so vividly, or because Madison had a great story, or maybe some identification, but I loved it. I read it at least 4 or 5 times. But it's not just that biography that makes him my favorite.

James shouldn't have been president. He shouldn't have even survived his childhood. He was a sickly little thing. Even as an adult, he topped out at 5'4". He was quiet. His voice was high, shrill, and whispery. He was painfully shy. But somehow, he ended up being the 4th president, taking the nation through the War of 1812 (also known as the war that officially made England our bitch), getting his White House burnt down, while his wife dragged out the portrait of Washington that still hangs in the House today.

Speaking of Dolley, what an awesome chick she was. Opposite of James in most ways- she was big, boisterous, vivacious, and outgoing. She charmed everyone who met her. As shy and averse to human interaction as James was, Dolley was the party hostess of D.C. The White House became the Delta House- parties and teas and socials and galas. Opposites attracting and a great love story to rival George and Martha or John and Abigail.

Why is Madison my favorite? He defied the odds. He didn't really even think he could. It wasn't necessarily ambition that helped him along. Just a belief that he had to do what he thought was right, to do what would help people and the country, and do what he must. Our system of government, as flawed as it is, is still a testament to the greatness of compromise- between central and state governments and between Madison and his co-writers of the Federalist Papers, and between the federalists and anti-federalists. Madison didn't set out to change history. He didn't try to found a country or government. He had no want for fame or even attention. But he had to do what he thought was right. Which is pretty freaking awesome.

taking a personal day?

2009-09-01T21:54:00.002-04:00

One of the things I'm learning with this writing experiment is kind of what it would be like to be a writer. It's gone much better than I've expected- I've surprised myself with my own tenacity. I've also enjoyed it more than I thought I would. It's great to get people making comments (whether through blogger, email, or facebook) and finding out people enjoy it.

But with every silver lining comes a cloud, and now that I'm close to three weeks in, I'm finding that there are no vacations with writing. I know that I'm writing one blog a day, which the actual writing of takes anywhere from a half-hour to an hour. Ooh, one hour a day. Tough shit.

But it's not just that one hour a day. I am thinking all day about what I'll write about. Even as I write this, I'm not sure what I'm going to say next. I have a headache. I'm tired. I'm stressed out. I'm tired of worrying about money and getting to a doctor and a dentist and getting new glasses. So the idea of trying to be creative when I am really freaking out.

So I am thinking that tomorrow or whenever I can put some thoughts together and churn out the creative juices (or butter, if it's churned), I'm going to rack some up and use them on nights like this. When my brain needs a personal day. Or a sick day. Depending on how you look at it.

weather or not

2009-08-31T21:35:00.002-04:00

Remember when I did a blog of just little... jokes? well, things I thought were funny and maybe possibly someone else did too? Three of them in a row? The previous two sentences are a practice in foreshadowing.

What do people talk about in San Diego for small talk? How about this weather, eh? It's always nice. Yeah.

Some people have a sixth sense- an intuition that warns them of danger, or draws them to love. I have that kind of thing, but it's with red lights.

Instead of like a moth to a flame, let's start saying like a rat to something shiny. What, too catchy?

Caller I.D. and cell phones are reducing the number of excuses for irresponsibility. Oh, I didn't see you called. Really? Because I can pick up your phone and see my number in your call log.

Dear chicks: Calling a dude to tell him you aren't going to call him anymore is one of the reasons dudes think chicks are crazy.

Dear dudes: Just say you're sorry. Yes, you don't know what's wrong. Just say you're sorry anyway. Gets you off the phone.

For me, you know how guys say, the hotter a girl is, the crazier she's allowed to be? (PS- if you didn't know guys say that, well... they do). I feel similarly about furniture. The cheaper it is, the uglier it's allowed to be. 80s looking TV stand covered in dust but is on the curb? I love it!

Game shows are probably a bigger contributor to people thinking they don't have to work for money than any government program.

I love some HGTV, but some of the women that are buying houses never shut up.

I was always having great ideas while driving. With no way to write them down, I usually forgot them. So I got a tape recorder. Apparently, it records tapes and kills ideas.

The dude on this HGTV show looks just like Rob Riggle. If you know who Rob Riggle is, and you've seen shows on HGTV, you'll know how disconcerting this is.

2 more weeks before The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and Colbert Report return with new episodes. I think my brain is dying.

I hope this is enough to constitute a blog post. I suppose that is my prerogative. And so it is.

danke, merci, gracias, thank you

2009-08-30T20:44:00.001-04:00

You can never really say it too much. My parents instilled thank you in me early on. I had to write thank you notes to everyone who gave me a gift. Thank you to servers. Thank you if you held the door open for me. Thank you if you blessed me when I sneezed. It's so automatic for me that when I open a door for someone, and they say thank you, I say thank you, have a great day! I'm the store greeter of life.

People love to complain about customer service. Agents are surly. They are bored and annoyed and just generally unhappy people. We all like to blame it on their bad attitudes or poor life choices, or possibly the idiot they just got done with who called to ask why their computer wouldn't play videocassettes. It's always someone else's fault- someone else who has a bad attitude. We react with our own bratty behavior and the cycle doesn't just continue, it grows exponentially.

I'm big on taking responsibility (as an ideal, not something I'm normally capable of in real life). Maybe it's not enough that our technical support question wasn't silly and it's not enough if we were cordial with the representative. Do you say thank you? When the agent goes above and beyond your expectations and/or their job requirements, do you go above and beyond your requirements as a customer and request to endorse their work to their supervisor? As someone who worked an inbound call center, let me tell you that those endorsements (we called them customer compliments at that job) are money. Not just figuratively, but literally. When you accumulated enough, you got prizes- movie tickets, even a day off. If you got really good, that meant raises and promotions. Yes, the calls are all recorded. But the supervisor picks calls at random- so it might the call with you, the perfectly normal and nice customer, or it could Mr. Ignoramus CrankyPants.

It got harder to do those thank you notes the older I got. When I was a teenager, I felt like I had better things to do than churn out thank yous, especially since my birthday is in December and that meant early January was all notes, all the time. But now that I'm a grownup (supposedly) and I'm often on the giving end of a gift, I realize how meaningful those thank you notes are. And how disappointed I am if I don't get a thank you.

Some final food for thought: in my senior year of college, I had to complete an internship for my major (speech communication). I was intent on doing my internship with a baseball team despite the fact they are extremely competitive. I sent resumes and letters to several local teams (ranging from semi-pro to the Cincinnati Reds). A week later, I received a call from the Reds and got an interview. Unfortunately, they didn't think the schedule would work- they wanted someone who could be there full-time, and I was already going to school and working a full-time job. Despite that, I sent my thank you note afterward- with my name at the top in red ink, just like the resume and cover letter. A couple weeks later, she called and said if I could fit a 20-hour week in, they would love to have me do my internship with the Reds. It wasn't until later that I found out it was the thank you note that got me that internship. This was 10 years ago- before it was standard practice- and she had never received one before. She said, "when I got that thank you note, I knew I had to have you."

And for that, I give thanks.

and this one belongs to... the other guys?

2009-08-29T21:01:00.003-04:00

I love watching sports. Sportscasters, however... eh.

There are a few I enjoy. I loved the George Kell/Al Kaline team of the Detroit Tigers. Always respectful of the opponents, but still Tiger fans to the core. I've become increasing frustrated with the announcers for the Cincinnati Reds. While a couple of them do seem to pull for the Reds (Jeff Brantley and George Grande), the others seem to have nothing but criticism- and not the constructive kind.

Primarily, I get irritated with Thom Brennaman. First of all, the extent of Thom's sports experience is being the son of longtime Reds announcer Marty Brennaman. His degree is in journalism from Ohio University, but the origin of his sports knowledge seems hazy. If you know sports, and listen to him, you will realize he doesn't know much. But it's not just his ignorance. It's his refusal to be a fan. I suppose the journalism curriculum does discourage bias, but when you're in a contract as an announcer for a team, and are expected to take over for your father, who has called games for over 35 years, you'd think he'd show a little appreciation for his money maker.

During today's game against the L.A. Dodgers (a loss for the Reds) by the 8th inning, Thom had stopped discussing the game- no play-by-play whatsoever... while I was looking at my computer screen, the Reds made an out. I don't know how. Thom was discussing the Dodgers' post-season chances. Perhaps Thom should heed the great baseball philosopher, Yogi Beara- it ain't over 'til it's over.

It's hard to watch your team lose (especially 11-4). But it's harder when you're hearing the announcer (who has a contract where your team pays him a salary) talk crap the entire time.

Thom- maybe the Dodgers are hiring?

you don't know what you got 'til it's gone

2009-08-28T17:35:00.002-04:00

So as many of my loyal readers know, or anyone who looks at the blog preceding this one, I was at the Bengals football game last night. It was my first NFL game, and it was just as totally awesome as you might expect. Dave bought tickets for me and Sara- 36th row behind the end zone. I sweet-talked us up to the 4th row by the beginning of the 2nd quarter. We lost, but it was close and decent football. What was most memorable of the night, though, was shortly after we got to our seats (the first seats), and I realized that I hadn't done my blog for the day. I was panicked, because I knew I wasn't sure when I'd get home, and had little control over whether it was before midnight.

After unsuccessful attempts to access blogger from my phone (and futile google searches on "texting to blogger"), Dave came to the rescue and helped me access it on his Blackberry (and fortunately for me, Blogger's site is compatible with his Blackberry's internet. I got to write the mini-blog (longer than a tweet, which is supposed to be a micro-blog) above. Thank goodness.

What made this whole event remarkable was how much it bothered me to almost miss the blog. And it still bothered me to not be able to write a real entry. It was like- I've never felt that kind of guilt about missing something. I can miss exercise without caring two shits. And it wasn't even that I put it off, I just forgot to do it. And it's like I forgot to walk the dog. She can't survive without me. I feel that kind of responsibility to this whole experiment. I am not comfortable with responsibility, so we'll see how I manage this.

And if you need someone to bring to a Bengals game, I can move you up 30 rows with $10 and a smile.

dave rocks

2009-08-27T19:21:00.000-04:00

I am using a blackberry for the first time and at my first nfl game. I am grateful to dave for both experiences. I will write a real blog tomorrow and add a day to the 30. Love y'all

give it a rest

2009-08-26T16:15:00.002-04:00

Senator Ted Kennedy passed away. When a public figure dies, it's a struggle for people- do you ignore their faults, their frailties, their mistakes? Or do you continue to hold them accountable for all actions, positive or negative? It was a major topic of discussion after Michael Jackson passed away as well.

Sometimes people get leeway depending on their cause of death. When someone is murdered, or dies young, or in some kind of awful accident, we are more likely to overlook their problems. That halo effect for a victim is always a touchy subject if a criminal case is involved. You don't want to say anyone deserves to die, but sometimes their actions haven't kept them as safe as they could have been.

John Mayer tweeted something insightful in the wake of Michael Jackson's passing. I can't find the exact wording (maybe he deleted it?), but it said that the memorial gave Michael Jackson the one thing life hadn't been able to- it made him a human being. From the time he was a child, he was a product. In death, he can finally be human.

There is a reason that we say rest in peace. Because it's just that- rest. Whether it's a saint or worst of sinners, once we're gone, it's over. There is no good to be had from discussing the faults. None of us is infallible. Let them rest with only our good thoughts to bid them goodbye.

There was some great artwork at the sandwich place near my apartment, and I've seen it elsewhere, in various wordings. It is:

I'm not sure how it will all turn out.
All I know is that in the end, I'll be dead.
So what can go wrong?

Sure, it's morbid (especially for a deli). But the only difference between comedy and tragedy is your point of view. When you ask yourself, what's the worst that can happen?, it's probably not all that bad. As Lewis Black pointed out, 5 out of 5 people are going to die. So live it up.

And then let it rest.

you've got me all a-twitter

2009-08-25T17:24:00.002-04:00

Twitter... what can be said that hasn't already? I was a late convert, I'll admit. I think people use twitter for different purposes. Some people use it solely to communicate with friends. Some people use it to promote a business or a cause. The spambots try to get you to follow them in order to obtain free iPhones, coupons, or pornography (all very tempting, I know). I use mine primarily as a miniature version of my blog. It doesn't coincide with my Facebook status- it's really just to make funny comments (well, funny to me) and maybe then get them to look at my blog or send me a large sum of money because I'm so damn charming.

There are definitely some success stories. Ashton Kutcher, who had kind of faded away from the celebrity spotlight, became a news clip again when he gained so many followers (even beating CNN in a race to get to 1 million followers). I'm just as confused as you are as to why people follow Ashton (I don't... I do follow CNN), but people find a niche and they work it. Shaquille O'Neal, Stephon Marbury, and Chad Ochocinco use their Twitter account to connect to their fans. Chad, in particular is a favorite of mine. He has fun with it. He is constantly posting pictures- everything from his McDonald's breakfast to his teammates on the plane, or celebrities he has met. He also directs people to his USTREAM, where he broadcasts live, playing music, chatting with fans, and talking smack. He even uses it for technical questions- and his followers deliver. He has basically single-handedly revamped his image and put himself back in the ESPN headlines- and he knows exactly what he's doing. It's not always a good idea: NBA player Nate Robinson later deleted a tweet he sent while being pulled over by the police.

Retail is using Twitter to lure consumers in with promises of coupon codes, insider sales, and first-chance buys. Non-profits are spreading their word-of-mouth faster than even Facebook can deliver. They are used in the case of emergencies- for example, the hotel attacks in Mumbai. The biggest news story involving Twitter was the use of it by Iranian protesters- garnering attention for a revolution-in-progress. Unfortunately, Twitter is by nature a short-attention-span vehicle, and the Iranian protests showed up in the Twitter "Trending Topics" almost as long as Michael Jackson.

What I find so lovely about Twitter is that it essentially is enforcing the rules in Strunk's Elements of Style, which has repeatedly been called the essential guide to writing. Keep it simple. Keep it short. No using dollar words when nickel ones will do. Not only does Twitter force the excision of extra words, but usually letters get deleted as well. It's often easier to go on and on than to keep it concise. Like writing essay answers in school, you write and write, hoping that something sticks. I once had to do a write-up of events for a website where I was given 4-5 words per event. Hardest writing job ever, but once they were done- I loved them. They were brilliant.

Twitter, like all technology, has its pros and cons. But I think it wins its cost-benefit analysis.

money isn't everything, not having it is

2009-08-24T17:09:00.002-04:00

That title is a quote from the great poet, Kanye West in his song, "The Good Life." Makes a good amount of sense. Money can't buy happiness, but a lack of money can sure ruin one's day. Or week. Or life.

For the most part, I've been rather unaffected by the recent economic downturn, because I never had any money to start with. In mid-2007, I became unemployed and stayed that way for about 4 months. I cashed out my 401(k) (when it was still worth something), my teacher's retirement plan and pension, and still racked up a bunch of credit card debt trying to make ends meet until I could find work. I was never flush before that either, nor since. I'm not sure I'd know what to do if I did have extra money, but my guess is that I would spend it just as foolishly as I spend the money that isn't extra. I have never seen an inherent value in money- no point in saving it. Live for today, carpe diem, and all that jazz. Even when I worked at Fidelity Investments, the only complaint was that I didn't seem to value money. My boss went so far as to buy me a book about the history of money. I still didn't get it.

Somehow, over the course of 30 years, it has begun to sink in that spending more than I make or have is not a good idea. The idea of a budget has started to make sense, or at least seem possible. I am still pretty certain that I will never be rich (unless one of the annual lottery tickets I purchase turns out to be a winner). But I do look forward to the day when I don't have to stress about it. When I don't have to end up projecting that stress onto my loved ones. When I can afford the organic meat and dairy. When I can go to a store and NOT only look at the clearance racks.

Money isn't everything- obviously, or I'd be a very unhappy person. But I can see where it's nice to have around- like a spare roll of toilet paper. Just in case.

love the one you're with

2009-08-23T20:35:00.002-04:00

People love to move. I am not an exception to this rule. I have moved, on average, every 1.5 years since graduating high school. Obviously, some dorm living is in there. But even since leaving the dorm life, I've still lived in Covington, Newport, Walnut Hills, Avondale, Clifton Heights, Over-the-Rhine, and now Northside- that's 7 apartments in about 10 years. I don't like packing, or moving, or unpacking. But I love change.

Changing your scenery is pretty common when you're feeling restless. Women dye their hair after a breakup. When you can't find a date, you want to move to another city. When you can't find a job, it's time to move abroad. Somehow, we think that changing the outside will change the inside.

I moved to the Cincinnati area at age 13- where change is less welcome, and the idea of changing schools was devastating enough, much less moving to another state. Believe it or not, Detroit really was a comfort zone for me. It still is. I still miss it (even with its continued struggles, and I'm not talking about the Lions). But there comes a point where you realize that the cliche of life is what you make it refers to your location too. I am pretty partial to big cities as opposed to small towns (mostly because I need- and I do mean need- professional sports teams). But as for what city that is- it's about the people. People complain that Cincinnati is clique-y. It is. That doesn't mean you can't make friends and meet new people and break through the cliques. It's a small-town feel to a big city. People know your business even if they don't know you, therefore self-discretion is advised.

At the same time, I sat in the biergarten of the oldest farmer's market in Ohio today, listening to an authentic German band, prosting to a local beer, and listening to candidates for city council speak, answer questions, and take questions from the audience. I met a friend for dinner at the other side of town and ran into a former student and a friend from college. When pictures were being taken for web sites, I duck out- I do like a bit of anonymity- but it's nice to feel at home.

I love you, Cincinnati

yeah, you gotta have faith

2009-08-22T19:50:00.002-04:00

Today's topic is faith. Not religion, but faith. Faith isn't so much what you believe, but how you believe. That faith could be in yourself, the basic goodness of human nature, or that your sports team is somehow superior to another sports team. People often confuse faith with religion, but atheists have faith; they have faith that there is no god. No faith would be closer to agnosticism.

Faith of some support is essential. It's a form of trust. It is a release of control that is inherently uncomfortable. When you marry someone, you are having faith in them. I have faith in my family and friends, who never let me far further than I should.

Faith in yourself is equally tricky business. I have often said that I am insecure, but confident in my insecurities. It's not as paradoxical as it appears. Confronting weaknesses is the only way to ever defeat them, so anything I find weak in myself, I will acknowledge and try to get better. It's that faith that I am capable of change and progress. It's faith that things will work out. And they do.

You can live without a lot, but I can't imagine surviving without faith. Whether you believe in a god, or an afterlife, or whatever- there has still got to be a purpose. If there was no purpose to life, we wouldn't try to improve. We wouldn't strive to be better- at anything, be it comparative analysis or playing backgammon. It's that hope, that faith, that possibility of change that keeps us hungry (literally and/or figuratively) and keeps us growing. Curiosity is faith that there is something to be learned. Exercise is faith that your body can change and develop. Love is faith itself- by loving, you show your faith in its existence.

So, faith. Have it.

And honestly, my internal organs are going to be mushy enough to suck through a straw if I keep this shit up, so tomorrow, I am discussing whatever I can find to be most sarcastic.

i've got friends in all places

2009-08-21T17:59:00.002-04:00

I can't say I necessarily recommend it, but having a point in your life where you don't have any friends can be beneficial. I don't think you should delete your facebook and become a hermit. But there is something to be said for realizing how important friends are, and how integral a part they play in your life.

I joined a sorority when I started college. I joined to meet boys- much to my disappointment, there aren't boys in the sorority. There were, however, a lot of women. Women who are thrown together and expected to be friends, whether they would or want to anyway. Think of reality shows. There is a reason people go insane and fight over nonsense. There's no escape. They didn't gravitate towards these people and develop friendships and relationships over time and shared interests and a genuine meshing of personality. Some people can thrive in that environment. I am not one of those people.

Fast forward a few years, and I'm getting thrown out of my sorority (there's no real scandal behind it, but a lot of straws on a camel's back). I moved out of the house I was renting with a sorority sister and her boyfriend. The moving truck came, and I called my only friend at the time- Kelli. We had met at our work- a bar/restaurant/bowling alley/games/nightclub kind of place. She is gorgeous- model beautiful. She is also the nicest human being on the planet, smart, and hilarious. She was my grasp at survival of what was a pretty dark time in my life. Kelli, who was hungover, god bless her, came to my house at 9am. She and I moved all of my furniture out (I did get one of those lovely boys I had met to help us with my bed) of my house and into my new apartment. I stayed at her house that night because I didn't have electricity yet. And thus, Kelli became my first grown-up friend.

Shortly thereafter, I reconnected with a few high school friends. I went to graduate school and met more people. I had a variety of jobs where I made more friends. I did volunteer work, went out to bars and clubs, parties, and slowly built up an arsenal of friends that is probably double the number of "friends" I had in my sorority. I have male friends and female friends, from 18 to 50, different colors, backgrounds, and interests. A lot of my friends don't know each other, and I love to introduce them. My birthday party was about 50 people where the average person knew 3 other people. I love it. They are an important part of my life- a true extension of my family. My best friend lives in Japan now, and we still talk on the regular- we know what's going on in each other's lives- everything. Facebook, with all its faults, has been wonderful for reconnecting with people, including my childhood best friend, Maggie. The only problem is that I wish I had been in touch with Maggie all this time, because she is as completely awesome now as she was when we were kids.

I am not opposed to sorority life. For some people, it's a great way to make friends. I did get a lot of life experience out of it. I met a lot of boys (many of whom I am still friends with). Those boys helped my self-esteem more than the struggles with the sorority damaged it. And now, I truly appreciate how important my friends are. I try to be the best friend I can be. I'm eternally grateful to have found so many people who love me the way I am, and have stuck around for the other side of the bell curve.

To my friends, I love you. I love you for your encouragement, your support, the laughter, the tears, helping me move, helping me celebrate, helping me mourn, and helping me love myself the way you love me.

Sorry for the mushy- I promise to get back to being a smart-ass tomorrow.

fashion a la mode

2009-08-20T18:47:00.002-04:00

Not as in fashion with ice cream. Literally a la mode (if you think I know how to create accents in this little blog box, you are overestimating me, and I am flattered) translates to "of the style" or "in the fashion of" - so fashionable fashion, so to speak. Let's talk clothes.

I've always been a pretty fashion-forward person. My favorite outfit as a 10-year-old was a bright pink sweatshirt with purple and gold hieroglyphics, a purple sweatshirt material skirt, pink leggings, turquoise socks and black flats. Stylin', profilin' and straight up pimpin' - 4th grade style. Soon, I was leading the way in the layered socks with different colored Keds trend. You know those harem pants that have suddenly become popular (with models and celebrities at least- it's kind of a more subtle Hammer-pants)? That's what I wore to my very first dance, age 12. That shit was so hot, U Can't Touch This.

My fashion continues to be... shall we say... eclectic? I kind of think of myself as a fashion pioneer, but I think pioneer implies that I have followers. I often get, "only you could pull that off." I'm not certain it's a compliment, but I take it as such. I don't like my clothes to match. I like to wear too much jewelry. Coco Chanel may have advised to take off one item before walking out the door, but one item doesn't make a dent in my outfits. Taking off one of the 12 bangle bracelets isn't going to make me look any more refined or sophisticated. It has taken a while to get to know my style (I do think I kind of have one). I like a little sporty, a little flashy, a little classy, a little sexy- kind of like all the Spice Girls wrapped up in one outfit. I like messing with makeup and my hair. I suppose at age 30, I should give up bright blue sparkly eyeliner. But I won't.

Fashion is something to enjoy. I love reading Lucky magazine. I love checking out thrift stores and outlets. I love putting stuff together in a new and different way. But the great majority of the time- whether I'm at home, or running errands, or somewhere more low-key, it's yoga pants and a t-shirt (AKA jammies). In college, my friends dragged me out to a bar/club one night- I wasn't in the mood. I was wearing jeans, an oversized t-shirt (of a high school football team), and sneakers. Three guys asked for my number, and the DJs pulled me on stage saying I was the coolest girl ever. Moral of the story? Not what you wear, but how you wear it. Pile up the bangles and sport stilettos, or wear a baseball hat and Converse- it's the confidence that's sexy.

some rules are meant to be followed

2009-08-19T20:41:00.002-04:00

When the book The Rules came out, my mother bought it for me (despite that, she is generally an excellent mother). In fact, it was one of my Christmas gifts. Not as awesome as when my father bought me a travel iron (I was 14 at the time), but still, I was a bit crestfallen. Wasn't there a less embarrassing gift available? Like a nose-hair trimmer? But curiosity got the best of me (in spite of what happens to the cat), and I read it.

I've always been an open book. I am pretty much incapable of being enigmatic. Whatever pops up in my brain comes directly out of my mouth without any consideration of how to word it, or whether it should be worded in the first place. There just doesn't seem to be enough time to think before I speak. I tend to write the same way. Proofreading and doing drafts doesn't even occur to me. Sometimes I'm reading a blog I wrote a year ago and find typos, even though I've likely read it multiple times since then. Life in general is a first-draft proposition for me. But that doesn't mean it's a good idea.

In the name of empowerment and feminism and all that jazz, women have decided to tell men what they want. Being demure and coy seems archaic and oppressive. We are women, hear us roar. We want a relationship! We want conversation! We want to cuddle! We want a career and a family and a group of girlfriends with whom we can discuss sex, Oprah, and shoes! Then women got the idea that they could be men. They could have sex and not care. They could love and leave. They could date multiple men, sometimes in the same night. They could have their Sex and the City lifestyle and be in control of their emotions instead of their emotions controlling them.

In my humble and likely flawed opinion, it seems like this all points to there being something wrong with the way women work. There's something wrong with being an occasional slave to our emotions, to wanting to cuddle, to owning 4 pairs of high-heeled black shoes (all of which are totally different, by the way). There's nothing wrong with being demure. There's nothing wrong with being coy. There's nothing wrong with being a woman. Letting a man open your door doesn't oppress you. Carrying a heavy box and refusing his assistance doesn't make you more of a woman. Makeup and perfume don't make you a submissive partner. The poem that opines "the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world" shouldn't be taken as a degradation of a woman's role- in the case of "anything you can do, I can do better," men and women can both run a company or a country, both perform surgery and save lives, and both can cook and clean with the best. But only women can bear humans. We will always have the upper hand. Men and women need each other- not just biologically, but emotionally and mentally. But it's the balance that makes it work. Women don't need to be men. We have plenty of men (despite what Cosmopolitan and the rest of the women's mags would have you believe).

While I don't necessarily agree with the seeming strategic nature of The Rules- I think it should be a bit more genuine- I think there is something to be said for following a few of them. Not to the point of putting out an egg timer for phone calls, or only accepting dates by Tuesdays, but keeping a little mystery is never a bad thing.

i hate to see you leave, but i love to watch you walk away

2009-08-18T16:18:00.005-04:00

I'm watching the Favre press conference right now- I had actually started a different blog and I'm too wrapped up in this to not be inspired by it. There's a lot of lessons to be learned from this scenario. Know when to walk away. Don't bite the hand that feeds you. But more than anything, I think it's a case of knowing when to shut the hell up.

The other night, I had a visitor. As often goes when two or more women are gathered together, talk turned to the subject of gentlemen. As the lady fretted, I considered what is still a struggle for me, but may be able to assist her in her situation. Less is more is not just a suitable argument for fashion and design, but also for communication. Sure, open lines of communication can be an integral part of a successful relationship. But communicative discretion is just as essential. Believe it or not, people don't want or need to hear everything you think about them (for those of you who know me- you know this is something I am certainly still struggling with). I think Brett would have had less backlash if he had kept his mouth shut. The hemming and hawing is easier to endure when it's behind closed doors. If you loved someone, and they said "I want to be with you." "No, I don't." "Yes, I do." "Well, I also want to see other people." "No, I can't do it." And then that person married someone else 2 weeks later? It leaves you pretty exhausted. I don't doubt that Brett is genuinely struggling with the decisions he has had to make. But pulling off the bandage slowly just extends the pain.

I'm generally opposed to sports press conferences anyway. Usually, the only lasting impression is when someone goes off the deep end and it becomes a YouTube sensation. Now that I think of it, press conferences in general are a waste of time. The people asking the questions and the people answering them all know what will be asked and what the answers will be. It's as spontaneous, entertaining, and informative as the 24-hour paint-drying channel.

24-hour news channels, 24-hour sports channels, reality show channels, soap opera channels. There's too many channels, just like there are too many baseball teams. People are living life less than they are watching it. A little bit of mystery isn't a bad thing- whether it's to your fans, your viewers, or your lover.

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool, then to speak out and remove all doubt- you've got Lincoln to thank for that gem.

survival of the fittest

2009-08-17T20:18:00.002-04:00

Day 4 of my series on sports. I would say it's the last day, but I haven't decided what to write about tomorrow, so I'll hedge my bets by saying day 4. And to my absolute favorite sport- baseball.

The major (and sometimes only) issue in baseball right now is the use of performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs). These used to be called steroids before some of them were human growth hormone and apparently, Manny Ramirez uses birth control (maybe that one where you only have 4 periods a year?). I've thought about it a lot (remember that I like thinking because it doesn't usually involve sweating), and it's honestly been a struggle for me to decide one way or another. Let's take a look-see...

I've always been inclined to allow people to engage in self-destruction if that is their desire. Prostitution, drug use, and other generally victimless crimes seem like a waste of resources for the police and government to chase after. So if you want to get backne and breasts and completely eliminate your ability to procreate, so be it. I couldn't care less. There are mitigating circumstances- for example, some consider that "roid rage" may lead to violent acts (like, say, murdering your ex-wife and a waiter). The severe mood effects of using PEDs and then again when you quit them- it's a factor to consider. But this post isn't about crime or violence; it's about sports.

Does it send a bad message to children? Sure does. So does getting caught cheating on your wife, or betting on games, or drunk driving, or beating people up, or using recreational drugs. The mindset that athletes should serve as role models to children is letting parents off too easily. Athletes can be someone to look to. So can parents. But also teachers. Pastors. Comedians. Small-business owners. Actors. Janitors. Gardeners. People who make an example out of their life by how they do things and not just what they do. Therefore, I'm not really buying that argument either.

I suppose the argument that PEDs are just a natural progression of what sports will become is valid enough. Technology changes everything- business, relationships, arts- sports is no exception. When they developed the first-down magic TV line, nobody complained that it was disturbing the integrity of the sport. People have clamored for instant-replay in baseball. Picking and choosing doesn't usually work, especially when it comes to something with such a democratic nature as technology- one of the goals of technology is to widen its accessibility. For every internet security screen, the hackers are already poking holes. As soon as a drug is pulled from the shelf, the labs are ready with another to replace it. Once they find a way to test for steroids, HGH shows up. Technology can't even keep up with itself. Since these drugs are available, use them. Run faster, throw harder, hit further. Everyone is doing it, so why don't you? While my tendency is toward Luddism, I can't argue with the fact that the world is changing, and it's not always for the worse. Maybe we'll see a time when Tom Brady would have been carted off the field, shot up with some horse testosterone, undergo a quick surgery with some lasers, and he's back out at the top of the second half.

But after all of this pontification, I'm still nagged by the fact that there are just too many players. Too many teams. The lure of money and fame make the decision to shoot up very easy, so that average players can become great players and great players can become phenomenal. The leagues accommodate- there are now 30 Major League Baseball teams- each with at least 3 farm teams apiece. There are semi-pro teams, and alternative pro leagues. There's enough baseball to fill up 6 or 8 channels of MLB Ticket. You used to have to be really good to get in the bigs. You had to be really good to get into the Hall of Fame. Now it's like the Walk of Fame in Hollywood- stick around for more than 4 years, and get your ticket punched. The fact that one played for x number of years does not qualify them for the Hall of Fame. It does seem like kissing baseball writer ass would help though. When the players are buying their talent at the doctor's office, it's hard to give them credit for their plays. The bad message they are sending to kids isn't so much, "hey, it's okay to take drugs." It's "hey, anyone can play pro sports." Ergo, anyone can make a lot of money running a hedge fund. Anyone can have sex with whomever they want, regardless of whether that person consents. You can eat your cake and have it too. Working hard is for losers. Even when you get caught, you can just make puppy dog eyes, apologize a dozen times, and do an interview with Barbara Walters or Matt Lauer or anyone on 60 Minutes. Then you promise to do better while you collect your paycheck and research a more discreet drug.

In the end, I'm anti-PED. Because I'm anti-bullshit.

for love or money

2009-08-16T21:22:00.002-04:00

What factors as success is different for different people. Some people see being successful as having a healthy and happy family. Some people see it as financial security and luxury. Some people see it as kicking ass at co-ed softball. I am not one to decide which of these is more valid and therefore more successful. But it does provide some illumination for the case of the Cincinnati Bengals.

In one of George Carlin's prolific rants about sports, he discussed the fact that the players were the only ones essential to the game. He said if the fans went home, the tickets weren't sold, the guys would go play ball in an empty lot, just as it all started. George's problem was with the owners- whom he hated even more than fans and media. And when you take a closer look at Mike Brown, you're going to see his point.

Mike Brown has made his decision on success, and it has more to do with the cash than rings. Most NFL teams have 4-6 scouts who go to colleges, other teams, semi-pro leagues and the like to recruit new talent. The Bengals have one- the rest of the recruitment is done by coaches, who really have better things to do. Like figure out how to win games.

Mr. Brown is also a major proponent of revenue sharing- generally a popular opinion among small-market team owners. However, other small-market owners aren't as thrilled with Mike, because he declined the $100+ million the team could have garnered for naming rights to the stadium and was happy to let the residents of Hamilton County pay for the stadium (without so much as a 25% off coupon so any of them could actually attend a game).

Is success putting butts in the seats and selling jerseys? Because if that is the case, Mike Brown is all sorts of successful. But if it is winning and pride and Super Bowl rings (and the resulting increase in revenue across the city when there's a team to cheer), well... Mighty Mike has struck out (or thrown an interception- there's just not an appropriate football analogy... at least I kept it in sports).

It's disheartening to the Bengals fan (as indicated by sites like this) to see this sort of behavior by someone who is really the descendant of football royalty as far as Ohio is concerned. But the amazing thing about fandom is that there is always hope. Once you become a true fan of a team, it tugs at your heartstrings for life. You try to turn away. You vow to never watch another game. You seek out a different team to love. But you always come back. As much as you try, you can't quit them. They complete you.

I'll still watch the games. I'll still be a Bengal fan, because I'm not a fan of Mike Brown. I'm a fan of dorky little Shayne Graham, and stereotypical handsome quarterback Carson Palmer, reformed prodigal son Chris Henry, and my personal favorite, Mr. Personality- so full of himself but still in on the joke, Chad "Johnson" Ochocinco.

I am not a fan of Mike Brown. I'm not a fan of the HamCo Commissioners who kowtow to his every wish. And honestly, I'm not a fan of the fans- who want everything for nothing, and complain bitterly when it's their own heart they are choosing to putting on the line.

That being said- WHO DEY!

once upon a time

2009-08-15T16:29:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure there is anything equivalent for people who don't follow sports. There is no other interest that arouses such passion. You can be really into music- but it's different to be putting your hopes and dreams, heart and soul, and personal joy or sorrow on the line for an athlete. Someone you will likely never meet. Someone who doesn't give 2 shits about you. Like that dreamy quarterback in high school, they don't know you exist- but literally.

Sportsophilia is a disease that usually only afflicts men. However, every so often, a female can fall victim to the as yet incurable and untreatable condition. I am one of those women. I love sports. I have favorites, and I am most capable of watching channels other than ESPN or CBS. But last night, when I was flipping back and forth between the Reds game and the Bengals preseason game, while following the Tigers/Royals game online, my friend can attest to the fact that while she was telling me... um... something, that even the most minute error in officiating by an NFL referee will take all of my attention. (But seriously- no flag?!). That is probably what makes it difficult for people to understand that while I feel the joy of victory and agony of defeat, I still can be a girly girl wearing makeup and stocking up on vintage jewelry. I'm a contradiction in action, so whether you first learn of my sports fascination or my obsession with makeup and accessories, the other is going to come as a surprise.

Therefore, when I visited Columbus in June and had an opportunity to attend a PGA golf tournament Sunday afternoon, my friends were confused by my hyperventilation. I never dreamed I would get to go to a PGA event, much less enjoy these particular circumstances.

As a matter of the world, where you have to know someone to get just about anything, a friend of a friend had a friend who lived on the golf course where the tournament was taking place. They offered us a place to park, and their passes to get on the course. They lived on the 15th fairway. As we parked and walked around to the backyard, near the edge where it kissed the fairway, Tiger Woods was striding down the fairway. From that point, the only thing I could say was, "holy shit holy shit holy shit."

We walked to a break in the plastic temporary fence and had the ushers check our passes, and my giant purse. Told I couldn't bring my cell phone, I dropped it on the ground and promised to be back for it. They put a tag on my purse to show it had been searched; the tag is still on my bag. I followed Tim to the 15th green, where I watched Tiger Woods sink a putt, and then walk by me- nothing between us but 3 feet of air. I followed Tiger to the 16th tee, and stood at the front of the crowd to watch him tee off. Then I made my move.

I was headed to the 18th green. I wanted to watch Tiger finish this thing. He was still a shot or two back. I figured I'd get a better spot if I went then instead of moving with Tiger. My friends were staying at the 16th tee to see other players play through- I couldn't fathom why. Tara went with me, but I lost her after about 10 minutes. All I could see was the green and wait for Tiger's ball with its Nike swoosh.

We waited. Another coupling played through. 20 minutes or so later, a small white sphere dropped in front of us onto the green. It rolled to a stop about 2 feet from the hole. Everyone was buzzing- was it Tiger's? It had to be Tiger's. How will we know if it's Tiger's? Someone with a contraband cell phone made a call. It was Tiger's.

Tiger's short birdie putt on 18 was what won him the tournament. It wasn't just amazing because he's my favorite golfer. It's pretty much understood that he is the greatest to ever play the game. I love watching golf. My heart stops and starts with the rough, the hazards, and the greens. I love other sports too- baseball, football, and hockey in particular. But I got to watch one of the greatest athletes of all time do what he does best- win. And there's just no concert or movie that can compete with the vicarious emotion of an athlete's true passion for the game.

But in any case- the serendipitous unfurling of events that led me to land at the 18th green was what was the most memorable. Up until the last moment, I didn't think it was possible. But it was- and that's the thrill of victory.

_______________________
Postscript: The kind lady and gentleman working the break in the fence delivered my phone to the friend's house, worried that I would forget it or it would be lost or stolen. Those people rock.

soccer it to me

2009-08-14T16:11:00.003-04:00

The people have spoken. Today's blog will be about soccer. I don't really know anything about soccer (except they seem to have the best looking athletes- David Beckham, Cristian Ronaldo- I mean, seriously). But I don't have to know anything to talk/write about something (there are a great number of radio and tv hosts who prove that point every day).

The big question about soccer has always been whether Americans will ever support soccer- not just as football/futbol, but as a valid sport. There is the big 3- baseball, football, and basketball- and really, everything else is going to be shoved into the last 12 minutes of SportsCenter. Hockey is momentarily interesting (when there is a fight), golf can get some viewers (as long as Tiger is playing), and many people consider driving a sport when it's done in an oval at 200+ miles per hour. But really, they are just events- instead of actual sports.

I've had a hard time with soccer myself. I went to an indoor soccer game when Cincinnati had its own pro team (the Silverbacks). I didn't really understand why they fell down so often. Nobody really seemed to be watching the game either. I surely didn't understand why people in South America were killing each other over soccer games- I mean, it's not even a sport, right?

More recently, I've started watching a game here and there. And like most things, the more I've learned about the game, the more fun it is to watch. But more than that- the intrigue stems from the passion of the fans. The first time I was watching a game, I was wondering if there was a giant swarm of bees somewhere near the microphones. Someone filled me in about the kazoo things. I was amazed. That is 90-minutes-plus of humming. That is dedication.

It's more than that- people live and die (often literally) by these teams. Just watching them makes it more exciting. And it's a soap opera- fans have thrown vomit at players. Vomited into a cup, and then threw it at a player. That's beyond dedication and bordering on psychosis. I've realized that soccer is more of a holistic spectator sport. I have to watch the players. But I also have to watch the fans. I have to watch the sweat that glistens not only the players' faces, but the fans as well. The beauty of being a sports fan is the vicarious fulfillment of glory through the players. The glory is exponentially heightened when there are thousands of people humming in kazoos, screaming, sweating, possibly vomiting, and feeling every emotion that we normally reserve for our most prurient relationships.

I'm not sure Americans are ready for that kind of passion though.

getting it out of the way

2009-08-13T09:31:00.002-04:00

It's only 9:30, so I cannot promise I will be at my most brilliant. I am not a morning person. But we'll give it a go.

So I've been considering why women have such issues with self-esteem. And not just the body image bullshit, but genuinely thinking they aren't cool enough or funny enough or smart enough or generally awesome enough to deserve being treated really well. I don't mean just by men, either. Women treat other women like crap, and feel like they deserve to be treated crappy as well. I can't tell you how many of my female friends are surprised when I make every effort to be a good friend to them (I try to be a good friend to my male friends as well). Why would you be surprised that I will help you move, or drive you to pick up your car after it gets towed, or give you a pep talk after a bad day? That's what friends are supposed to do. Women have such low self-esteem that they don't even truly believe they deserve love from their friends, much less potential suitors.

I'm not sure where my high self-esteem came from (and that's not saying I don't have my faults and insecurities- I'm just confident in them). I have a couple guesses- I could just be totally narcissistic. My other option is that while my parents didn't necessarily tell me I was God's gift to the planet, they did always support my decisions. whether it be getting a tattoo or going to grad school. Having someone tell you that your ideas are great all the time (even the ones which turn out to be epic failures) does bolster the self-confidence. These guesses are not mutually exclusive, by the way. I could very well be a narcissist with emboldening parents (the two together makes a lot of sense, actually).

I realize I'm not the cutest girl or the skinniest girl (although I do have a body dysmorphic disorder I call anti-rexia: I think I'm skinnier than I am). I'm not the smartest or the funniest (although I would wager to guess I am in the top 5). But when it comes down to how you treat people and how you let them treat you, it is in the confidence and the self-esteem. I behave as though I am totally awesome, and it becomes reality. I try to improve myself (with varying results), and I'm happy about the progress I have made. I try to be a good friend, and I definitely have more work to do, but I do my best. I deserve it. And so do you.

__

Postscript:

I am reminded of an excerpt from a commencement speech given by- I think Bill Cosby, but maybe Oprah (Oprah says all wise things). Paraphrased, it said: someday, you will have an idea. You will go to someone and say I have a great idea. They will say, no it's not. Go back to your cube. And the question becomes: who do you believe?

Peace out, kids

day 2

2009-08-12T18:16:00.002-04:00

This thing is already a drag. In retrospect, the nap might have been a bad idea- or at least not the most productive use of my time. Plus, it was one of those naps where you wake up feeling like you've been dead for six or eight days. I can't move my arms or legs. I can't open my eyes. And my brain has no intention of working for at least a couple hours.

This will be short- I am preparing to celebrate a friend's birthday, and she deserves more attention than this blog does. However, I feel like I'm making progress by not blowing it off. Give me a couple more weeks and I might be used to this. Or not.

A final thought- why are men's restrooms always the first down the hall at public places. And are pregnant women particularly agitated? (Please note that I refrained from the obvious pun).

a practice in futility

2009-08-11T21:36:00.004-04:00

In an attempt to determine whether it is possible for me to motivate and discipline myself, I am trying to write on my blog every day for the next 30 days.

It's not just me who is unable to motivate me. It's rare that someone or something can spur me to any sort of ambitious action. I'm a lifelong slacker- a "just enough" kind of person. Further effort just seems unnecessary and possibly wasteful.

Plus, I like writing and the whole Twitter thing is fun, but it's kind of like- you don't stop eating real macaroni and cheese just because you can get a single serve made in the microwave. I think it's a valid mode of communication, but is certainly not sufficient.

So, we'll see how hard I have to work to find something to say every day. I'm not really sure how this whole motivation thing works- or self-discipline. Part of the reason I'm not the best teacher is because discipline is just a sort of foreign concept for me. Like money having intrinsic value. Like eating mashed potatoes. I just don't get it.

I guess I wonder when it might be that I'll be a grownup. I feel like I haven't started really living my life yet- like I'm still a kid. I suppose the first step is admitting you have a problem. Hi, my name is Dale, and I'm addicted to being in a state of arrested development where I want none of the responsibilities of being an adult and none of the limitations of being a child. Apparently, I don't get to do this forever. What a freaking bummer.

I suppose that I could do a reward system for meeting my goals. Or maybe learn to be ambitious. Is it learned? Are people inherently ambitious? Is there a career where my removed nature would be encouraged or at least tolerated? Can my inability to take most things seriously ever be an asset?

I'm pretty sure that I could write a book that would have the opposite effect of the Who Moved My Cheese? and the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People kinds of books. Like it would make everyone just want to sit around and chat and possibly take a nap or play some board games. Businesses would go bankrupt within days. But there would probably be fewer arguments.

Well, Day 1 is successful. I actually had thought about wanting to do this earlier this morning. While I was taking my evening shower, I found myself considering putting off starting it until tomorrow. The first day of this experiment and I was already procrastinating.

This is not going to be easy.

take a number

2009-04-12T17:04:00.002-04:00

I have 373 contacts in my cell phone. Out of those 373 people, I probably actually call maybe 30 of them, and probably only about 10 on a regular basis. I'm certain that a lot of the numbers are no longer even accurate. Why keep them all? There is actually a couple of reasons.

The first reason is at least somewhat practical. I've had the same cell phone number for about 12 years now (an eternity in these technologically advanced times). I get random phone calls from people (I'm not going to lie, it's usually the dudes) I haven't spoken to in years. I like to know who is calling. I don't like surprises in general. I love caller ID- I even have audible caller ID. I don't have to touch my phone to know that "Call From... Daddy... Mom... Home."

The other reason is a bit more sentimental. Amongst my parents, family, friends old and new, there are random numbers. A girl I hit it off with when we were both solo at a bar one night. Dudes upon dudes who I met that once and never heard from again, or we hung out a few times, or we dated on and off forever. It's a bit of a flashback every time I scroll through the numbers, checking on who I want to invite to the next party. I might not invite John Doe, but it's nice to remember the night we danced until 4am and then had breakfast at Anchor Grill.

I don't do scrapbooks. I don't really keep a journal anymore. Although digital cameras make it all the easier to TAKE pictures, they hardly ever get actually printed and perused. But all I need for a stroll down memory lane is my little LG enV2 and I can tell you stories about 373 different people.

a short post of things that came to me last night while trying to fall asleep

2009-01-23T12:42:00.002-05:00

Whenever I'm hungry at home, I put off making something to eat as long as possible. Apparently, this is under the assumption that a) I will just stop being hungry or b) someone will just show up and cook me some food. Neither happens.
When considering a return to school in this economic downturn, I remember the worst part of class- falling asleep. Not because I would be admonished, but because those notes were useless. "The Monroe Doctrine wgh ddhg... wha?"
The reason that free market capitalism won't work without regulation is because there will always be people who are motivated by money- say, Donald Trump, and there will always be people who are not- say, me. Without regulation, the Donald Trumps of the world will bleed the mes of the world dry and then sell my organs.

just a quick thought

2009-01-13T22:42:00.002-05:00

This month's Cosmopolitan has a feature on how to make your bedroom inviting to a man (no knickknacks, feminine but not girly, clean lines, etc).

I consider myself lucky if the guy has toilet paper.

And they say there's no double standard for the sexes.

where am i going and why am i in this handbasket?

2008-12-10T20:07:00.002-05:00

Neil was so kind as to send me a link that sufficiently put a damper on my evening. American Revolution/Civil War/Great Depression 2.0 all rolled up in one come 2012. Doesn't this guy predict any good things? For pete's sake... I bet he doesn't get a lot of dinner party invites.

That's not to say I can't see where Jerry's coming from. I mean, to the majority of America, the whole collapse of our economy might have come as a surprise, but really- if you had been paying attention, the United States has been circling the shitter for quite some time now. The haves and have-nots have been getting further and further removed. While the Prius and Honda hybrids were sitting in the driveways of hippies and Nader supporters, Hummers and giant SUVs were getting pimped with personal DVD players for each and every kid. People were selling their 2,000 square foot homes because they needed more room for the second child they were expecting.

As the President-elect pointed out, instead of putting money into alternative energy, we've been throwing money in construction- bigger houses, bigger hotels, bigger buildings. Unless GM develops cars that run on oak cabinets and wall-to-wall carpeting, those were not so much great investments as they were (and are) money pits.

There's a cyclical nature to life. In most cultures, religions, societies, etc, there is some kind of circle of life- not just a Lion King circle of life, but one where things come and go, whether it's life, health, money, trends. In the mid 80s, environmentalism was huge. Saving the rain forests, recycling, endangered species- it was all the rage. Then, people got distracted. The Internet came around, and all of a sudden, people were making money, a lot of it. Technology was moving fast, and society couldn't keep up. Supply and demand went all out of whack, and the excesses that made us all fat and happy also made us lazy.

We thought ourselves infallible, and when the World Trade Center attacks occurred, it was all the more devastating because we suddenly realized that we were not invincible after all- in fact, we were terribly vulnerable. We had an enemy that we knew nothing about. It was becoming all the more difficult to concentrate on finding the new Xbox rather than what was happening around the world.

All great empires come to an end. They all fall, sooner or later. Holy Roman, Ottoman, British, and many more, have come and gone. Perhaps, in 2012, we'll see the beginning of the end of America's dominance in the world. Or not. But I don't think Gerald Celente is all that prophetic. He's just been paying attention.

put a ring on it

2008-12-03T19:28:00.000-05:00

Apparently I'm having some sort of creative burst lately. I'm sure a drought will come soon enough, but maybe I can bust out enough to get you through.

I recently had a bit of my writing published in CiN Weekly, the Cincinnati Enquirer's weekly YP-geared paper. And when I reflected upon it in its published state (it's bits and pieces of previous posts on here, mostly), it comes off as very pro-monogamy. Monogamy is well and good, but that wasn't really my point. It was more anti-bullshit and anti-excuses than pro-monogamy. If you want to sow, sow. Just don't put a ring on it. I have absolutely no problems with "players" or the George Clooneys of the world. It's the Eliot Spitzers who go and get married and then mess around.

I've theorized (there's no real work in theorizing, which is what I like about it) that you can break down attraction and intimacy and commitment into three stages (you can sort it out a lot of other ways, but stick with me for a sec). First, you like each other. You want to see each other and make out and blah blah blah. Then you start wanting them to be yours. You don't want them to be with other people. You get jealous. You think, I need to make this person my boyfriend/girlfriend so that he/she can't be with other people. The ultimate level (and THIS is the level you should get to before making a commitment) is when YOU don't want to be with anyone else. You can't build a relationship on keeping someone away from others. Which is why so-called "girl-power" anthems like Beyonce's "Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)" are misleading, and probably damaging to relationships. It's basically saying, oh, you regret letting me go? You should have made a commitment. No! You should make a commitment because it's that important to you to devote yourself to making this person a part of your life, making them happy, and being a better person for it.

Not to get sappy- because honestly, I don't see more value in commitment and monogamy than I do in sowing seeds and being George Clooney. As long as you're authentic and honest to yourself and others, there's no greater validity in any choice of lifestyle, as far as I'm concerned.

I'm not pro-monogamy. I'm not pro-polygamy. I'm not really pro-anything except do what results in a social exchange profit of maximum satisfaction for you and minimum cost to others.

A ring is not a leash. Nor is it bait. So no need to put one on it.

Put a glove on it, though- just the PSA of the day.

Peace out, kids

age ain't nothing but a number

2008-12-02T19:30:00.000-05:00

Isn't it mad creepy that Aaliyah's first album was called that- given that it was produced by R. Kelly? And the rumors that they got married when she was 15? And then the later child pornography charges against Kelly? Age apparently is only a number for R. But I digress.

It is one week short of my 30th birthday. I'm pretty excited about it- because I've always been excited about my birthday. I think I make a big deal about it because it's smack dab between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and 3 days after my father's. If I didn't make a big deal about it, no one would.

In this era of Sex and the City and cougar-mania, they say that 40 is the new 20. Which I guess means I'm kind of turning 10. I'm okay with that. I certainly don't feel like a grown-up yet. People laugh when I say that I'm excited about turning 30 because I'm hoping to become less dumb. But I'm serious- I acknowledge my ignorance and I welcome opportunities to do something about it. We're all dumb about a lot of stuff (in the same line, we are all smart about a lot of stuff too). The sooner you realize it, the better.

I guess I could say that my life now isn't what I pictured for life at 30. But the truth is, I never really pictured my life at 30. Or 40. Or 25. Or 65. Whatever. I'm not a future-focused person. Nor am I a past-focused person. It's all about the present and what is fun and good and soul-satisfying right now. When I was about 8 or 9, I used to lay awake at night and obsess over my future- not details, but my own mortality. Heavy stuff for a 3rd grader, so since then I just don't think about it. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm not necessarily certain that there is one thing that I will be happy to do my whole life. On par with other 30-year-olds, I might be behind the curve. I'm not a "YP." I have a master's degree that is useful only in having something to fill that frame I bought. I still like to go out and dance until 3am on a Wednesday night. I hate waking up early. I hate wearing suits. I have no desire to get married any time soon, and I'm not sure kids will ever be in my future. I don't wanna grow up. I'm not a Toys 'R' Us kid, either. I am perfectly happy suspended in this state of arrested development. And some guy guessed my age as 23 the other day, so I can probably rock this boat a bit longer.

I'm not stressed about turning 30. It's presumptuous to say, but I'm fairly certain 40, 50, et al will be okay too. It is just a number, and as long as I stay a late bloomer, I'm sure it will be all the easier to bear.

Closing in on 30, but not maturity.

i enjoy being a girl

2008-11-30T18:35:00.000-05:00

I've always loved sports. Watching them, I mean. Refer to the previous post where I bemoan the injustices of being a female sports fan- a tried and true sports fan who knows statistics and understands strategies and can watch golf for over 4 hours straight. I'm not any good at sports- I'm not coordinated, and I get most of my aerobic activity through walking my dog and dancing a lot.

In addition to my love of sports, I'm tomboy-ish in other ways. I wear a lot of jeans and t-shirts and baseball hats. I hate chick flicks. I am prone to blunt honesty and I love dirty jokes. I'm a major commitment-phobe in every sense of the word- my only long-term commitment is to my cell phone. I have a low voice, and a Northern US accent, and in the morning, I can be mistaken for a man over the phone. I refer to men as dudes and women as chicks.

So, people who see these aspects of my personality tend to think I fall into a masculine kind of identity (and have been known to question my sexuality- trust me, I'm pleased to be straight... chicks are crazy and dudes are dumb. Men are clearly easier to handle). Thus, it tends to surprise them that:

I have subscriptions to Glamour, Marie Claire, Lucky, even Cosmopolitan
I love makeup and fashion and hairstyling. Even though I wear my hair in a ponytail almost every day, I have a knack for styling (inherited from my beautician mother) and my hair has been long, short, dark, blond, and had pink highlights. I have been asked by professional makeup artists and Sephora employees how I do my makeup and what products I use.
I am totally addicted to HGTV.
I only recently edited my purse collection to a somewhat manageable 20 purses.
I own a Britney Spears CD.
I was in a sorority.
While I fear commitment, I have always (and I mean ALWAYS) been boy-crazy. I have to have a crush on someone all the time. It changes often, but there has to be someone to daydream about.
The only gadgets I am interested in are beauty products. I still have my original Nintendo gaming system, and it's the only video game player I have ever used- period. Nothing beyond Super Mario 3 and Tetris for me, thanks.

Despite all appearances to the contrary, I am a bit of a girly-girl. Next time you're sitting at BW-3s and the girl next to you is complaining about the Bengals punting on 4-and-1 at the 15-yard line, or extolling the virtues of the under-appreciated baseball catchers, give her some credit for being a girl. Especially if, like me, she tends to wear sparkly eyeliner and carry a giant, patent-leather purse.

While I appreciate my tomboy tendencies, I also enjoy being a girl.

encore

2008-09-28T21:09:00.000-04:00

The final installment- at least for now...

Regarding fried macaroni and cheese bites- clearly, someone looked at mozzarella sticks and said, "That's just too healthy. I think I'll add processed cheese and pasta." I have a sneaking suspicion that anti-American terrorists are really the ones behind all the fried food madness. Somewhere, in the Deep South, there's a dude burning flags and frying Snickers.
On one hand, the beginning of the month is when my rent, utilities, cable/internet, and insurance are all due. On the other, it's when I get all my magazine subscriptions. It makes going to the mailbox a really conflicted affair.
I like to read the "missed connections" ads on craigslist. It kind of makes me wish I didn't boycott Wal-Mart so I could attempt to confirm all of the "sexy blonde ladies" who shop there.
To my dog: how do you choose that particular spot to poop? There must be factors, since you circled it for 5 minutes. Even when there's 45 stalls in a public restroom, I can still choose one in about 30 seconds. What do you know, Deva?
In my attempt to save the planet, I use reusable grocery bags. Unfortunately, I have run out of plastic bags to pick up the aforementioned poops. So, while I attempt to procure bags in other ways (Kroger is really confused when you ask them for the bags they collect to recycle), I did end up having to get a box of poop bags. My guilt was tempered by the fact that they are biodegradable (and I still haven't had to use them). But, the small print under "100% biodegradable" is "except by California standards." What does California know that we don't?
To the man driving the Chevy Aveo with a Cherry Bomb muffler (those really loud ones): I will never understand you. Ever.
In Playboy, they were giving advice on how to hit on a woman who you only saw while she was working (server, store clerk, bartender, etc). On the subject of gratuity, they recommended that you tip the customary 20% "so she knows you don't see her as a prostitute." Speaking as a female bartender, I know you don't see me as a prostitute, because I'm not offering you sex on a street corner. Tip me as much as you want and I promise not to feel objectified.

I'm fairly certain I'm done with these for now. I felt pressured with October coming up and not having a post in September. I could promise that I'll do better next month, but I don't want to lie to you.

act ii

2008-08-21T22:57:00.001-04:00

More of me, thinking I'm funny...

I hate when a music snob is looking through my iPod... any cred I might establish with the Black Keys is going to be immediately revoked when they get to Blessed Union of Souls. Damn it, I'm equal opportunity in music, don't judge me.
Dear facebook, myspace, gmail, tmz, and perez hilton: Thank you for making me late all the time with absolutely no excuse that isn't totally embarrassing. "Hi, sorry I'm 15 minutes late, but I had to find out what happened with Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer."
My public service of the day: Although I figured it was about insurance, I finally had to log on to nowwhat.com. It's State Farm, but I must say it's the most entertaining insurance site ever. My apartment ninja was a Worthy Rat on my first try. Beat that. Or, you can have a life and just take the knowledge what the site is about.
Maybe it’s because I consider myself a writer of sorts, but I feel a lot of pressure to be overly clever with my facebook, myspace, and gmail status messages. If I can’t be witty in 8-10 words, it’s just not worth trying anymore.
I am so annoyed with John Edwards. Not because he cheated on his wife. Because he gave a tiny shred of credibility to the National Enquirer. They will cling to this like the last chopper out of Vietnam.
Thank you, gmail invisibility option. You are my 21st century caller ID and I love you for it.
The Olympics are irrelevant, right? I love sports, but this isn't really a sports event. It's all heartwarming stories and VISA commercials. Is there a petition I can sign or something?
Grocery stores and other entities that refer to toilet paper as “bath tissue:” you are sending an extremely dangerous message about what is acceptable bath behavior.
When my dirty laundry has reached epic proportions, it becomes necessary to wear one of those fancy, lacy bras that I never wear. When I try to put it on, I feel like I’m 9 years old again, trying to put on my first bra. Everything is backwards and twisted. It’s like I made my own corset.
There are few things more detrimental to the self-esteem than accidentally catching a glimpse of yourself in a magnifying mirror.
I like looking in people’s windows as I’m walking by. Not in a creepy way, and I don’t linger- I don’t even pause or slow my walking. But I cannot resist the opportunity to peek into someone’s life without them knowing- the lack of self-awareness allows someone to be totally honest.

it's like a stand-up act, but i'm sitting and alone

2008-07-31T22:54:00.000-04:00

UPDATE: These are all "jokes" I made up- not copied from others. That will explain why it really is only funny to me.

A lot of these are only funny to me. It's okay. I read this blog too.

When presented with an opportunity to sell your soul to the devil, keep in mind that not only will you have eternal damnation facing you at death's door, you just know that Satan is going to be calling you up for favors in the meantime.
Upon learning that Bill Clinton can complete the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle, in pen, in 20 minutes, I thought to myself, I bet George W. Bush has to do word seeks in pencil.
I saw an acrylic chair for sale for $461. I thought my goal since college should have been to NOT have plastic furniture.
What ensures the security of the service industry in this country is the huge number of lazy, inconsiderate assholes.
There is a product called Super Manure. It's the shit.
People who live in stone houses shouldn't throw glass.

For that matter, neither should people in wood houses.
Or straw.
And watch out for wolves.

I saw a married couple buying condoms. I thought that was kind of weird, but then I thought maybe they're not married to each other.
At the hospital I worked at, there was a sign saying that the room had been donated by Mr. and Mrs. Carter. It made me wonder what had been there before and the difficulty of installation.
At the same hospital, I saw a sign promoting something called Walk to Cure Diabetes. I don't want to be a negative Nelly, but I think they should still have some insulin around.
Am I the only person that, when the car wash starts, has a little panic attack that the windows aren't up all the way?
The best part of having your own house is not having your neighbors hear your multiple flush poops.
My own personal superstition: When you drop the soap in the shower, someone is having a sexual fantasy about you. Spread the word.
When a flock of birds flies over you, aren't you a little surprised when you don't get pooped on?
Shouldn't People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive be the same guy until he dies?
I was watching a home and garden show about people using junk to make furniture. Before a break, they said "What can you do with an old iron chair, some boat chains, and old rowboat oars?" And I thought... abuse GitMo prisoners?
You know what would be depressing? If you were talking to a deaf person and they close their eyes.
On a house-hunting show, there was an Asian guy with a WASP voice saying, "the only thing I'm not digging is that the appliances seem kind of old-school." Talk about a culture clash.
Writers have low-enough self-esteem to be miserable, but high enough to think people care about their misery.
Advice to rich/famous men/women (especially men): Don't get married. There will be plenty of people who want to hang out and bone you and even have your kids. But no matter how iron-clad your pre-nup is, you'll waste a lot of time and money fighting it in court. Just bone and pay child support as necessary.

Thanks for indulging my inner comedian. I'm sure more of these will plop out sooner or later.

By the way- anyone who is not easily offended, I've got a great joke for you. But it's not going on here.

the burden of proof

2008-07-30T00:15:00.000-04:00

For those of you who may not have been aware, I'm a chick. I know, the name throws folks off, but it's true. I serve as the proud home of a couple of Fallopian tubes. Good for me.

The reason I am noting this is a prelude to today's topic- why can't a chick just like sports and not have to deal with bullshit? I've wrestled with this issue for years- see the June 2001 issue of ESPN The Magazine and the "Two-Way with Stuart Scott" as reference to my continuing dilemma. For some reason, when I mention I am a sports fan, it immediately emasculates any men present. For example, I was at work at City View on Monday. My first customer was a dude that had hating on his mind from the moment he walked in. I had been watching That 70s Show and he said, "why isn't SportsCenter on?" I didn't feel it necessary to go into the fact that I don't watch ESPN until everyone gets there because they cover the same stories on First and 10, Jim Rome is Burning, Around the Horn, Pardon the Interruption, et cetera. But whatev. So I hand him the remote and make his burger.

Within the next half hour, a few more folks have trickled in, including Dude's Friend and a couple of regulars. Jim Rome was on at this point. I would say I hate Jim Rome, but I don't truly hate anyone. But I do think he's annoying, rarely makes a good point, and he talks too loud. (Billy Banks called and he wants his outside voice back). I mentioned my distaste for Rome, and Dude asked (and this was not a friendly ask, by the way) why I didn't like him. I gave those reasons, and added that his precisely trimmed goatee was repulsive (well, it is). Apparently, Dude has recently been neutered or something, because he was just jonesing for a fight. He started asking me my opinions on all things sports- Brett Favre (Brett, yes you're awesome. But you're dicking around with a city full of fans that worship the ground you walk on and it's not fair. You're like the dude that keeps calling his ex-girlfriend. Give them some time to grieve, keep your word, and do some endorsement deals and wait for the inevitable call from Fox to host MNF). Chad Johnson (I could so care less about his whining- the only reason it was a story was because everyone paid attention to him. See previous posts for more thoughts on 85). Dusty Baker (there's only so much you can do with a little bit of pitching and even less offense. However, I do think he's too nice to the players and should start running a tighter ship. Sparky, we miss you). Then it moved on to politics- am I a Hillary fan? Well, it's kind of like rooting for the San Diego Padres at this point... "there's always 2012." Anyway, it's not a matter of being a fan- it's a matter of agreement on policy. But, Dude was just interested in fighting for fighting's sake, which is a drain when I'm trying to work.

I would be lying if I said I didn't know why men feel the need to question my interest in sports. (Well, more than an interest... I love them). It's silly. Honestly- one guy once asked me who held the home run record. Really? And no, I don't know every single person who plays every single sport- I don't memorize every stat, and I don't watch SC 3 times a day. I have to leave room in my brain for things like dirty jokes, who John Mayer is dating, and my blood type (AB negative, if you need any). But honestly, it gets old. Yes, I like sports... more than most girls, and more than a lot of guys. Fortunately, my breasts don't get in the way of the game (well, usually). So give a chick some credit... save the quiz for the 4th inning AFLAC trivia question.

fallen idol: epilogue

2008-07-12T19:56:00.001-04:00

On the 4th of July, the comic at Natalie Dee had a familiar ring...

nataliedee.com

"prelude to an email" is the title

FYI: here's a transcript of the note in the cartoon (I realize it's getting cut off)

"Dear Natalie,

I am an avid reader of your site, however, I was not pleased with today's comic, "Flying Chicken." I will have you know that chickens cannot fly. I know this because I am a chicken doctor, and also it was in Wikipedia.

Please remove this comic from your archive, or I will never read your site again.

Thank you for your prompt attention in regards to this issue.

Sincerely,
Richard Poultry
Chicken MD"

This is the closest to fame I'm likely to get.

Enjoy

fallen idol

2008-06-24T12:36:00.000-04:00

It's always disappointing when you meet someone you admired and they turn out to be a total asshole. I was slightly bummed when I finally got to meet my baseball crush, Danny Graves at RedsFest 2001. Granted, it's not the most fun a professional baseball player can have (I don't think I want to know the details of the most fun a professional baseball player can have). And I'm fairly certain that since he was married, he was not going to fall in love with me at first sight. But the fact that I had to beg him to sign an autograph for an elderly woman in a wheelchair, it took a little luster off him.

One of my favorite comics is the comic at nataliedee.com. Natalie and her husband Drew each create a comic each day, as well as one they collaborate on. I've been a fan since Sara introduced them to me when I was working at C+RA. Her blog was funny, and her advice, while a little harsh, was usually spot on. However, I was slightly bothered by the tagline on the internet header- Natalie Dee: "America's Favorite Cracker." For those folk who do not know the origin of the slur cracker (and I didn't until not too long ago), it has nothing to do with the fact that snack crackers are white and flaky. It actually refers to cracking the whip- on slaves. So it's really just as derogatory to blacks as it is to whites. It had bothered me for some time, and this morning, I finally decided to email Natalie and make sure she was aware of the slur's origin. I prefaced by saying what a big fan I was.

Her response made my disappointment with Danny appear like a dream come true. She began with a lecture as to the literary device of using tongue-in-cheek language, and even included a link to the Wikipedia site on tongue-in-cheek (because Wikipedia is the ultimate authority). Then she "thanked" me because the internet might have thought she was a slavemaster herself. I would have liked to include a verbatim reproduction of the exchange, but I couldn't get express written consent as advised in her e-mail disclaimer. I know what you're thinking- the enforcement of binding email disclaimers is basically nonexistent. In trying to be a decent person, I asked for her permission to reproduce it anyway. She replied no, and insinuated that the entire intention of my email was to reproduce some criticism on my blog (with my millions of readers, I know). I didn't really consider it until I got the most pretentious response to a letter that was nothing but respectful and appreciative. But, since I'm not a complete asshole (although I am an asshole), I will respect her wishes, despite her lack of respect for me. However, I will include the original email I sent to her and you can determine for yourself whether her tutorial on literary devices (if you can call the definition of tongue-in-cheek a literary device) and her admonishment regarding my reproduction was warranted. Enjoy:

Dear Natalie,

I would like to start off by saying I am a huge fan. My friend introduced me to your comics (as well as Drew's) over a year ago, and the first day I read every single one that had been posted, and have visited the site every day since. I am looking forward to the store re-opening now that I have a little disposable income to spend on it.

I had noticed that the new tagline on your site title is "America's Favorite Cracker." I am not sure the significance behind that choice- I'd be happy to be enlightened. However, I had learned a few months ago the origin of the slang term cracker for white people. I had always thought it was because crackers (especially saltines) were white and flaky. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It actually refers to slave masters (cracking a whip). So it's not really a nice thing for white people or black people. Since I (and most people I know) did not know the negative connotations that were involved in the term, I thought maybe you were not aware either.

I apologize if I'm overstepping my bounds as a fan- I just want to make sure that as many people can enjoy Natalie Dee like I do.

Thanks for your humor and making me feel like there is someone with the same crazy sense of humor as I have.

Have a great day,

Dale

There you have it, kids... perhaps I am being overly sensitive. But maybe that sensitivity allows me to acknowledge that being a total asshole is not always necessary.

let's talk about sex

2008-06-16T22:44:00.000-04:00

Before I launch into my latest rambling- I just realized that most of my post titles are from music. For those of you who have may have already noticed, it has been unintentional until now, and I feel a bit of pressure to decide if I should maintain the music theme or just forget it. I think WAY too much.

People make a big stink about marriage nowadays. The legalization of gay marriage in California, the criminalization of gay marriage in Ohio, half of marriages ending in divorce, Britney Spears marrying men seemingly at random. And as I take note of some of the media being thrown our way, it's no wonder everyone's fucked up.

There's a Coors Light commercial that I absolutely hate. There is a couple sitting on a sofa when the male gets a phone call, listens and then turns to the female and says, "It's Joe...he really needs to... vent." And she replies, "you should go." Dude leaves and arrives at Joe's apartment, "ready to vent?" and holds up a case of Coors Light, "ready to vent!" Joe replies. Flash forward to Joe, 2 other guys, and Dude on the phone, with the girl saying "is he going to be okay?" and Dude replying, "I think we might be venting a little longer." Hangs up phone, and guys all cheer some sporting play.

This commercial is encouraging the notion that married/attached men will only be "allowed" to hang out with their buddies if he makes up a story indicating that they will be emoting and not having any fun at all. The problem is, a lot of women will insist on that- no having fun without me! I'm the only one capable of bringing fun into your life! Any time you are having fun without me lessens my self-worth, because I'm only as important as a man makes me to be! Ugh... an endless cycle of whining women and scheming men.

Cosmopolitan magazine- the clearest indication of the coming apocalypse besides George W. getting elected TWICE- recently ran a feature (they are called features because stories would involve both paragraphs and thoughts) about how to spy on your man (a horrible term for someone with whom you have a relationship). It detailed where you should look (including his medicine cabinet, trash, glove box, mail, cell phone, gym bag and laundry) if you think he might be keeping something from you. If you are going through dirty socks and coffee grounds, you have far bigger problems than a potentially unfaithful boyfriend. For instance, you are clinically insane. When I read Cosmo, I can almost hear the relationships ending. When I wonder to myself why I don't have some kick-ass boyfriend (being as I'm a kick-ass chick) and why there are so many cool guys with some crazy-ass women... I realize that Cosmo has catalyzed this notion that men are incurable horndogs and women are psychos. Which to an extent is true, but they are not helping the situation.

There was a guy on The Colbert Report the other day talking about how men are not by nature monogamous. Well, duh. And that men like Eliot Spitzer should be empathized with and understood as just being male. I know- boning hookers is Spitz's cross to bear... tough life. Here's the thing: whenever I hear someone say that people are not inherently monogamous, I think, of course not. That's the point of monogamy. There's a great line in the movie A League of Their Own when Tom Hanks is talking to Geena Davis. Davis wants to quit playing baseball, and says it's too hard. Hanks says- "Of course it's hard. If it was easy, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great." It's kind of how I feel about monogamy. If it was easy for you to be committed to one person and avoid acting on temptation- well, then, what's the point? The idea is that you make a commitment, you override the reptilian part of your brain that wants only to mate, preferably with someone who has admirable plumage. That's what is supposed to make us just a little bit more civilized than the other animals on this planet. That, and our ability to kill fellow members of our species for shits and giggles and oil.

On the other hand, I once went to a mega-church that made me feel so far from God, I thought I was in a level of hell even Dante couldn't imagine. I happened to make my one visit on the first day of a lecture series on Love & Sex. Lucky me- I was more concerned with Jobs & Money at the time. The beginning of the... service? show? whatever... was an interview with a comically costumed Satan. He was being asked his view on the various issues, or at least variations, of sex. (I don't know if In the Devil's Studio was a regular installment at this church, as I have never returned). By way of some clever reverse psychology, it was implied that God is NOT in favor of homosexuality, premarital sex, oral sex, or masturbation. During the service, and for about three weeks after, I was too disturbed to be able to analyze the whole thing. But now, in later reflection, I wondered what kind of release was acceptable for sexual tension. Here's my hunch- dry humping. They didn't say ANYTHING about dry-humping. I've got to figure that typical pre-service conversations go somewhere along the lines of "I'm going to grab a coffee, want to dry hump after church?" I won't even go into the fact that the worship leader (they are called that because I think you have to go school to be a minister) said that the passion and ecstasy that we feel when we have sex (and while he didn't say it, I'm assuming he includes orgasms in that passion and ecstasy... Satan didn't say anything about orgasms, so I hope they are okay) is the same passion that God feels for us. Which is unsettling. I like God. I could even consider myself to love him. But God feeling sexual ecstasy for me makes me think that maybe that's what the Catholic priests tell themselves when they are manhandling little boys. Ew.

Here's the thing- we all like sex. We all look at sexy people and think, "YUM!" Women are no less likely to want to bone random guys (Cristiano Ronaldo- I'm looking at you) and men are no less capable of monogamy. And God loves you no matter how you like to bone, however, I think he would definitely rather you not manhandle the children. And Dude, just go drink beer with your friends... then Chick can go shake her ass at a dance club and get free drinks from men having mid-life crises.

However- no glove, no love, kids... STDs can really wreck a mood.

a semi-original song

2008-05-24T22:49:00.000-04:00

I wrote this about a year ago, and while spring cleaning my memory stick, I thought I'd put it up here for your enjoyment. Sung to the tune of "My Favorite Things" from the Sound of Music, it's creatively titled, "My Favorite Things: The 2007 Edition"

Although I never watched Sex & the City, and don't plan on seeing the movie, it seems to fit its release.

Enjoy...

Negative pregnancy tests and false lashes
Manolos and Dooneys and butt-slimming sashes
Knuckle-bending diamond engagement rings,
These are a few of my favorite things!

When I feel fat,
When my man’s gone,
When my boss is mad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad!

Ashlee’s rhinoplasty, Lasik, and Botox,
Everywhere you look you see Britney Spears’ box
Paris’s Bentley is all filled with dings,
These are a few of my favorite things!

When I feel fat,
When my man’s gone,
When my boss is mad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad

Yoga, Pilates, and spinning classes
Anything so we have tinier asses!
When an American Idol badly sings,
These are a few of my favorite things!

When I feel fat,
When my man’s gone,
When my boss is mad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel… so… bad!

hey-ey i wanna be a rock star

2008-04-29T19:02:00.000-04:00

I've been ruminating on the state of Cincinnati sports lately.

Chad, Chad, Chad... what's become of you? All wide receivers love attention. They are used to it. They score touchdowns, they do dances, they are flashy and all-around attention whores. Usually, the money, the women, the dancing... it's enough to suffice. But then Ocho Cinco starts getting double-teamed, and T.J. Houshmandzadeh and Carson Palmer worked together in the off-season... and suddenly, Chad doesn't get the "respect" or "love" he deserves. When Marvin and the rest of Cincinnati ignore the bellyaching, he takes his tantrum to whomever will listen. Now, he is essentially crying, pouting, and pounding his fists, all in the hopes he will receive the attention he thrives on.

Remember when Corey Dillon wanted to be traded? You got your Super Bowl ring, Corey... and essential obscurity. Congratulations. I'm sure someone besides me and a random ESPN analyst remember you exist.

Chad, tread carefully... you are a gifted athlete. But you are also a gigantic pain in the ass. And most teams only have enough head room for one egomaniac. Work on getting your attention by running your legs instead of your mouth.

And then there's the Reds... I kind of wish I had written this post before last night, when Bronson Arroyo put together what is technically considered a quality start, and a win to boot. But for every strikeout, there was a horrible JTM commercial. The image of Bronson, his hair blowing in fan (pun UNintended)-provided wind, his voice straining... It's like a bad Nickelback karaoke performance... but not as entertaining. Bronson: put down the guitar. Back away from the mic. Pick up the ball. Keep it in the yard. Rinse and repeat.

While the major-league, professional sports in Cincinnati struggle, the Cincinnati Cyclones put together a ridiculously good season (a 17 game winning streak?) and are in the finals. But that's hockey. Cincinnati is still stinging from not being allowed to join the Confederacy, and they won't be having that Yankee bullshit around here.

Speaking of the Yankees, they are evil, George Steinbrenner is the Devil, and Hank is like Dubya striving to make sure HE is remembered as the douchebag of the family. Just an aside... I just hate the Yankees.

Good night, kids

a little pick-me-up

2008-04-16T15:00:00.000-04:00

I realize that the last few posts have been kind of bummers... and I apologize. I kind of write when something is on my mind... and when the funny stuff comes, I just say it to whomever is around and move on. The serious stuff, I don't talk about, so it stays in my head until I write on here. Sorry 'bout that.

Anyway... I'm sweeping the deck the other night at City View and there are chips everywhere... one table in particular- there had to be more chips on the ground than got into their mouths. I thought, do these people eat like this at home? Do they get up from their dining room table with a circle of bones and peas and bread crusts surrounding them, waiting for vultures (or perhaps a family dog) to clean up? And how is it possible that they are missing their mouth so much? How much do you have to drink to forget the location of your mouth?

Of course, I was making this hilarious point the other night when Sara and Neil and another friend were over... we had a good one over that. Then, yesterday evening, Sara and I had some Klotter Conconctions and cheese and crackers. Guess what was surrounding us on the floor? Aw, damn.

I just saw a preview for a movie that's playing on FX later... An Unfinished Life. "With Robert Redford, Morgan Freeman, and Jennifer Lopez.." Wha? Jennifer Lopez? Was that an accident? I'm not a movie person, and I'm pretty sure I've never seen anything that Jennifer Lopez was in. But I primarily recognize her fame for dating and marrying. I was unaware they would cast her in movies where she doesn't play a maid or wedding planner.

Note to the winner of the Indy 500- I know that whole milk thing is a tradition, but coming from someone who has been hit in the face with whipped cream pies on two separate occasions... you will not get the smell of sour milk out of your nose for two weeks.

On the topic of Chad Johnson, because he will not be content until he has permeated every corner of the planet, including my little blog... Now he is demanding to be traded. It started out with him reminding me of a high school girl who cries and complains about her boyfriend to everyone... except her boyfriend. Now he's more like a child throwing a tantrum... and Marvin Lewis is doing what parents do best- ignoring it. Honestly, Chad... first it's that you're upset that Cincinnati doesn't love you enough. Then you don't care whether people like you, you want respect. Now you want a Super Bowl ring. Honestly, Chad- there's only one thing you really want, and that's attention. That's the reason for the end zone celebrations. That's the reason for the endless supply of interviews. Is that the classiest way to handle this situation? Shut your pie hole and take care of your business without pulling a Spencer and Heidi publicity stunt. At this point, you could be the best WR in the history of the planet, and no one is going to remember anything but you being a whiny, self-absorbed crybaby.

Enough of my semi-humorous and mostly self-indulgent ramblings. Thanks, kids.

Immortality... or a lack thereof

2008-03-28T01:21:00.000-04:00

The problem with being a writer (or someone who calls themselves a writer because they have a blog and/or a couple locally published writings) is that there is a certain level of permanence to what you have written. A sense of immortality that goes beyond the mere passing on of DNA- it's your thoughts, emotions, feelings, ideas- written out for the world to see forever. Even when it's something as trivial as this blog- I would feel it inauthentic to delete posts just because I've changed my mind. Or because I have evolved. It would be like shutting y'all out of this whole crazy process.

So, even though I have gone back and forth on grad school (yes, I'm still planning on getting the PhD, much to my chagrin), even though I've lamented being the Cute Fat Girl and am rapidly approaching Skinny Cute Girlness, and even though while I've declared my love for Jason yet know that it is highly unlikely I'll end up with him in the end- even though all that's out there... things change. But that snapshot is out there and raises doubt. I guess that's the danger in being a writer... having a blog or whatever... that people will see your struggles. While so many can keep it a secret until they come out on top, insisting that it was their plan all along... some of us suffer through every indignity, every lapse in judgment, every irrational emotion with an audience of 6 billion (no, I don't think 6 billion people read my blog... yet).

In many ways, it would be a lot easier to hide it away. It would be easier not to let people in on the crazy inside. It would be easier not to share every jolt of electrical thought current rushing through my brain. But I decided long ago that part of my life was going to be ensuring that all the people who feel like they are abnormal, deviant, sick, or alone... they are going to know that everyone has value, we are all deserving of happiness and while we are all unique, we are all in it together. So if someone is feeling down on themselves, and it makes them feel better to know that I think I'm the shit but I fuck up all the time... it's the least I can do.

I should not write at 1:30 in the morning after drinking wine. It makes me ramble.

Namaste, kids...

(Insert clever title here)

2008-03-08T19:57:00.000-05:00

Ugh...

Life is complicated. I hate making decisions. I'm a classic commitment-phobe... not just of relationships, but of anything- careers, apartments, hairstyles.

But I guess at some point, you have to make a decision... about something.

While I'm honestly not looking forward to it, I'm planning on going to OU in fall '09 for the doctorate. I don't want to move to Athens, or live there for four years. I don't want to go back to school. I don't want to deal with any of it... but the only job I've ever really liked was teaching college. I can't see a point to my life if I am a secretary my whole life. I don't plan on having children, and if I don't do something with the career aspect of my life, I'm going to feel like I haven't had much impact on the planet.

So, I've resigned myself to realizing that shortly before my 31st birthday, I'll be moving to Athens, and starting what will likely be a very long four years. But, if I don't go, I'll still be 35 at the end of that time, and I'd probably still be a secretary. So, what the hell.

In case you were wondering what spurred this decision... I was out with a friend and ran into one of my former students from UC. He asked me if I was still teaching, and I said no. And he basically lectured me for about 45 minutes that I needed to be teaching because I was the best teacher he ever had, etc. Then, a month later, I ran into one of my former students from NKU. We basically had the exact same conversation Jeff and I had. Both conversations made me cry like a baby. So I thought. And thought. And thought. I have to do it. I'm pissed about it, but you do what you have to do.

I made a couple other life changes. I resigned from the board of Give Back Cincinnati. It's a great group, but it's not on my list of priorities anymore... There are a lot of factors, but all that matters is that it wasn't fair to me or to GBC to keep going.

Lastly... I made a call the other night. You know, we all have those "first loves." That's who I called. Because I realized... I still love him. And I probably always will love him. In retrospect, I think that he is probably the only person I've ever met/dated/whatever that I would marry. It's a weird kind of unconditional love, because he's done some pretty stupid shit. But, from the day I met him in June 1996, I was in love. My mom even remembers me coming home and saying that I had met the man I was going to marry. Well, it's been almost 12 years. He's been married and divorced. He's got kids. He's done some stupid things. But, there is something about him that I will always love. And I told him that, because I thought... if someone felt that way about me, I would want to know. And I know him enough to know that he would want to know, too. Who knows what will come of that- maybe nothing. Something would be nice, but even if it's nothing, I know that neither of us will leave this world without knowing that. So- Jason, I love you. Always have, always will.

Random musings, I know... not very funny, or insightful. But when I go too long without writing, I get all these hostile messages... just kidding... sort of. I'm snowed in, and nothing really funny or insightful to say... just things that are true.

Why I'm a Darwinist

2008-02-14T22:21:00.000-05:00

Two posts in one day... aren't you some lucky readers.

So with all this time sitting at my apartment alone being sick all week and stood up tonight, it gives me some time to reflect. When I was done with that, I read a Glamour magazine. There was an article written by some actor about plastic surgery and how he had tried to date women that had had it and he couldn't. You know, wondering what they are hiding or what else they don't like about themselves. Blah blah blah.

On to my next distraction- L.A. Ink on TLC. I like Miami Ink better, for the record- I think Kat Von D is as annoying as fuck. But I digress. This woman is getting a tattoo for her son. He's adopted and she was talking about her struggle to get pregnant and how she didn't understand why it was happening to her and that it was natural to have a baby. And I kind of thought... maybe it's not. Maybe it's not natural for every woman to be a baby-maker.

I thought then about boys (as I am wont to do)... I met aforementioned V-Day Stand Up Guy on the infamous internet. And I was wondering why I felt weird about meeting someone that way. And it occurred to me that all these things might be kind of related.

It's the artificial nature of it. The forced-ness. It's inorganic. The body you have, its capabilities, and the interactions of life- do you just let them happen, or do you, in the words of Tim Gunn, "make it work?" I'd rather just let it happen. Whether you believe in God or fate or none of the above, I just kind of think that there is something to be said for letting the world develop on its own. There's a big long quote by Max something or other- Ehrmann? Anyway... in the midst of the quote it says that whether it is apparent to you now, the universe IS unfolding as it should. And it resonated with me.

So, I guess all that organic loveliness, those flowery quotes and my rambling thoughts come down to one thing. Put down the Botox, adopt a needy child, and meet some guy at the grocery store, or however you want to do it, but live authentically.

Evolution- it's not just for monkeys anymore!

What NOT to wear

2008-02-14T20:11:00.000-05:00

It's Valentine's Day, 2008. I got stood up. I have an amazing ability to get dumped/stood up/etc on holidays/birthdays.

I was relieved this past December when I was single- finally a birthday with no fear of getting dumped. I have been dumped three times within a week of my birthday- including once on my actual birthday. Last year, I was dumped exactly one week later. Happy holidays!

I suppose it's not a huge deal- we've only been on a few dates. But the thing that probably bothers me more than anything- there's a quote- maybe Oscar Wilde? Can't remember... but the gist is that the only thing worse than being talked about is NOT being talked about. Kind of like... I'd rather be hated, yelled at, whatever, than ignored. And being stood up is just that.

(Let's all assume right now that he's not in the hospital or dead- if he is, I'll give you an update).

Back to my point- I wrote a poem when I was in college (didn't we all? Ugh) about it being better that some guy I liked made fun of me than if he ignored me- because at least he's acknowledging my existence on the planet. Nothing is so detrimental to self-esteem than the complete disregard for your being.

No worries- I'm not bitter... not a knee-jerk reaction to getting stood up on the official Hallmark holiday (or is that Sweetest Day?). I still love men and will continue to do so. But, it doesn't do much for my reticence to put myself out there and display my heart on my sleeve. Not my style, and tonight, it seems like it was just the thing NOT to wear.

Money, money, money, money... MONEY!

2007-12-12T16:22:00.000-05:00

So, if you blog, you know that you really don't think that anyone reads your blogs. You think you're just pontificating for the catharsis of your own soul. I've always thought it would be a little egotistical of me to think people read these.

And then, every so often, someone mentions that they are missing your posts... (you know who you are, and thank you). As a "writer," there is literally nothing more fulfilling that finding out people get enjoyment from reading your work.

I was talking to the boss at my temp job the other day. He knows I write, and he's an avid reader, so he's always asking me about it. We were talking about J.K. Rowling, and how she went from relative obscurity to the richest woman in Great Britain. Then he asked me a surprising question- one I had never been asked. He said, "are you motivated by money?" I thought for a second, and said, quite honestly, "no." I've never had money- my parents have never had money. Maybe if I used to have it and lost it, I would. But I've actually never seen any inherent value in money. Even when I worked in 401(k)s at Fidelity... I'd have a hard time understanding it. My boss eventually gave me a book that was quite literally the history of money. I still didn't get it. I will never be a saver. I will never be rich. I will always spend my money on nights out with my friends, and cute purses, and giving money to homeless people. I'm okay with that. I'm rich in life, if not in cold, hard cash.

What does motivate me, though, is someone saying, "I really like your blog." "I really like your writing." "Your note really meant a lot to me." I will never tire of telling people what I think about the world, and finding out what they think too. And if someone should want to hear my musings on life (still a miracle to me)- it's all the motivation I need.

Blogging as Social Protest

2007-09-26T12:42:00.001-04:00

While watching The Colbert Report, I couldn’t help but laugh- I know, that’s kind of the point. But in the spot regarding the taser attack on a Florida college student, Colbert pointed out that students responded in the only way they know- watching and doing nothing. Colbert joked that they were probably taping it for a YouTube video. He acknowledged that the main mode of expression for Generation X, Y, and Z is blogging.

The next night, sure enough, Colbert showed a blog that responded to Colbert’s story. The student (not realizing the irony) said what Colbert didn’t realize was that the police had told them to stay back. (Colbert noted that you should never rebel against an authority figure by not doing what they say).

Yes- I do realize the irony in blogging about blogging about The Colbert Report’s story about the Florida student. I could digress and discuss the fact that John Kerry probably couldn’t protect America from an attack if he can’t protect some 22-year-old kid in the same room as him.

But my topic tonight is more along the lines of the pros and cons of blogging as social protest or mode of expression. On one hand, it’s a great start for writers (don’t I know that). Sometimes, maybe even often, you get more accurate reporting from bloggers than from the media, who have more agendas than bloggers do. Bloggers have nothing to lose- and therefore, can take chances that regular media just can’t take.

The Internet has been the defining invention of the generation. It’s hard to imagine a new media that can surpass it. It has increased globalization at a dizzying rate. It’s allowed access that no one could have dreamed- but at the same time, it restrains. In the developed countries of the world, we often forget that a great many citizens of the world do not have telephones, much less computers with Internet access. (By the way, they also don’t have clean drinking water, houses, or enough food). As technology increases, the economic divide follows suit. In America, we talk about the American Dream, but we neglect the fact that in this increasingly global society, it should be a human dream. When the American Dream is a vacation house, and people across the world are living in squalor, the search shouldn’t be for a great investment, but human compassion.

Another digression? I don’t think so. Because that apathy has extended to within American borders. The people who sat idly by while a young man was tased (an act that can kill) for the mere act of asking obnoxious (but not necessarily useless) questions of a guy who ran for President a while ago showed no emotion. Colbert’s infamous “guy in the orange shirt” didn’t even take his chin off his hand. Fear and apathy run rampant and allow the dangerous abuse of power as evidenced in this event.

Blogging may be the last bastion of free speech in this country. As guarded and remote as it is, it may soon be the last place you can make your voice heard without fear of electrical shock.

The Pursewatcher

2007-09-25T10:49:00.000-04:00

There are some unintended consequences to be the Fat Girl in the group. I'm not huge, but given that most of my friends (especially the going-out ones) are skinny as all get-out, I'm the default Fat Girl.

Sure, there's the typical, "you better be funny if you're the Fat Girl." But there are some lesser known identities. Let's discuss them.

"Unintended Wingwoman": Whether I like it or not, I'm the wingwoman. When the guy has the choice between the cute Fat Girl and the cute Skinny Girl, it's a no-brainer. So no matter how many guys I chat up, it's just an opening for them to hit on my friend, whether she is interested or not. I don't fault Skinny Girl in this- she is usually completely unwitting to this situation. But it's disappointing to put all that work in, and watch him do his best to shove his tongue down her throat on the dance floor.

"Friend of the Crazies": Something about the fact that I might at some point be standing off the dance floor- and I'm not as intimidating as cute Skinny Girl- means I attract crazies of all sorts. Crazy drunk women, creepy guys who want advice on picking up women (then I'm GLAD they aren't interested in me), bored bouncers who want to tell me their life aspirations outside the bar... I get them all. Being fat usually makes you unapproachable. But the other unapproachables find comfort in you- they reach out because you're on their side. Ew. No, I'm not.

"The Pursewatcher": A personal favorite of mine. Towards the end of the night, when I'm tired of getting shot down and ignored by people with whom I might be interested and worn out from the Crazies, I grab a table and just observe the madness. Skinny Girls who can't dance being pursued by drunk men who want nothing more than a handful of body, etc. It seems within ten minutes of me sitting at a table (after a few "hey, it's okay to smile" comments from creepy men who seem to think it's their job to dictate my facial expression), I become the Watcher of Purses. While the Skinny Girls dance, SOMEONE has to watch their purses, shoes, drinks, and so on. And that person becomes me. Now I'm stuck because I don't want their stuff stolen. Thanks, Skinny Girls. Nothing could make my night more pathetic than babysitting inanimate objects while you get slobbered on by the guy I winged your way.

I used to be cute Skinny Girl. A bad medication that is necessary for my survival made me cute Fat Girl. I've resigned myself to my role in life. The Pursewatcher.

An astounding event in history

2007-09-19T16:48:00.000-04:00

Am I the only woman who has a weird, fractured relationship with her father?

My father and I just talked on the phone for a record 4 minutes, 1 second. He called to ask me where my mother was (I actually knew, despite living an hour away). He accidentally got roped into having a conversation with me that lasted longer than most of our interactions.

I was that dorky kid who always WANTED to hang out with my parents- I thought they were cool. When my dad told stories about helping out my godfather (an FBI agent) with an undercover narcotics sting... I mean, really! Who doesn't want to hang out with studs like my mom and dad?

Over the years, though, my dad and I have grown apart. I don't know if it's fairly common for single women in their late 20s, early 30s to be distanced from their dads. While my mom and I can go on for hours about baseball, relationships, HGTV, politics, etc... my dad sits in the Dad Chair, reads his book, and falls asleep with his hand on the remote, resulting in a whirlwind of channels that inevitably ends in a shopping channel.

I love my dad, and I am just like him. I have the same wide feet. I hold grudges. I shop too much. I take pictures of food I've prepared if it looks nice. And he's 71- not the youngest bird in the flock. But until I get this figured out, I'll enjoy the four minutes of side-splitting laughter I get when the opportunity arises, and a few chuckles as I reminisce.

Joblessness...

2007-09-18T13:02:00.000-04:00

...really gets old after a while. I'm not sure what to do... People ask me what kind of job I'm looking for- and I honestly don't know. I suppose this is the time in my life where I should be able to start figuring that out. But it's not coming to me. I visited OU... I'm not sure if that's the place for me either. I want to stay in Cincinnati- but I'm not exactly sure if I can afford to stay here.

My father thinks I should randomly go through the yellow pages and pick someone and ask them to give me a job. You don't choose drywallers that way, so I'm not sure if that's the way to get a job either.

My mother thinks I should take whatever job I can get until I find that "dream job." I see my options there as thus- either I go into a job in bad faith, knowing I'm going to leave, OR I end up in the sucky job for the rest of my life.

I had so many job offers when I graduated from my BA... I'm starting to think that getting my master's was a huge mistake. But it's too late now... just have to pick up the pieces and see what I can do from here.

Sorry for the bemoaning- I know the post on my other blog is kind of saying the opposite. But it's getting to the point where I'm so scared about not finding anything, it's all I can think about.

Where have all the singletons gone?

2007-08-27T14:36:00.000-04:00

In Cincinnati, we often talk about "brain drain," the act of creative people leaving Cincinnati. But what about "Date Drain?" People are also leaving Cincinnati because dating in Cincinnati is, well, draining. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone's dated everyone. You meet someone and realize that they are the cousin of your last boyfriend. It's damn near incestual.

I'm still a new kid in Cincinnati- I've only been here about 13 years. Which, by Cincinnati standards, is a nanosecond. The funny thing is, as much as people complain about the small-town nature, they are reluctant to let it go. Cincinnati is like a microcosm of the immigration debate. Someone moves to Cincinnati, and it's like they immigrated from Micronesia. How are you supposed to relate- you don't even know their high school! And how are you supposed to meet them at the Friday night game. Does anyone realize that there are PROFESSIONAL sports teams in this city?

I honestly don't know how to fix this. I get involved in every activity I can, but I only meet people who are already dating their- of course! high school sweetheart. I talk to everyone I meet- I even went on a date with a guy I met at the grocery (of course, he was from London, so I guess it doesn't count). I do know this. Cincinnati will get smaller and smaller (literally) as long as people are in the hometown pride mindset. And Chicago, Columbus, Indy, and the like will get bigger as they embrace the newcomers.

Sooner or later, I'll decide it's time to settle down. I'll probably be in Chicago.

Songs by Staind

2007-08-13T15:45:00.000-04:00

It's been a while...

I haven't written in a while. Although writing is cathartic for me, it's also exhausting. And life has been exhausting enough lately.

So you might remember a past post where I talked about going back to school- not for a PhD, but for a degree in Public Relations. Well, life has taken a sharp right turn again... I say right turn, because hopefully I'm headed in the correct direction.

Fall of 2008, I will hopefully be starting my doctorate in communication at Ohio University. Yes, moving to Athens, going to school full-time, and hopefully working towards finally becoming a professor and writer. Whew.

But now it's time for the pontificating that you all enjoy...

This morning I woke up and flipped on the TV and of course, it was HGTV. And it was a special on the "Ultimate Wedding Guide." And the "experts" were saying things like, "you want your guests to walk away thinking that wow, you thought of everything" and "favors should be either edible or useful" and "your dress sets the tone for the entire wedding."

Although my stomach was turning at this kind of stuff, you kind of wonder why there is such a fuss made about weddings and marriage. Marriage is no guarantee that you'll stay together- we are at a point now where the divorce rate is 50%! I know of so many couples that were together for years and years and then got married and divorced within 2 years.

It's not like I'm against marriage. I might get married myself some day... but I wonder if the emphasis that society places on the importance of a wedding and getting married by a certain age or at a certain point in your relationship puts undue pressure on couples- and that results in the sky-high divorce rate. I once asked my mother when she knew she and my father would get married (they dated for seven years before marrying). She said, "after about 5 years." Hardly that 2-year timeline that so many couples seem to have. And some people get married after 6 months and never look back.

I always hesitate to give advice on relationships, despite my background in the study of the same. Because every relationship is so different and so unique. We wonder why Brad and Angelina don't get married and then ridicule Britney for marrying everyone who seems to cross her path. Maybe we should all take a step back and let people do what they want with their relationships. Get married, don't, live together, don't, have babies first, don't... whatever floats your boat. I could go into the Christian Right's effect on this with their whole "family values" campaign, but I don't think this has to be a political discussion. I think it's more about appreciating the uniqueness of the individual, and the resulting uniqueness of relationships.

Ok, done for now... the next blog might be about my radical decision to admit- I don't really like kids all that much. I mean, they're fine and all, I just don't want to spend all sorts of time with ones I'm not related to. But that's for another day.

I'm sure you've missed me- I'll try to get back on here soon.

Namaste

On friendship

2007-04-24T13:02:00.000-04:00

I once read a little piece on friendship that was quoted in a Dear Abby column. It was comparing friendship to marriage and to the relationship between a parent and child, and even to a business partnership.

It made the excellent point that friendship is that one relationship- that one bond, that one union- that we enter into without any legal proceedings. Nothing binds us to our friends but our fondness for each other. It is a relationship that we look to for security, but has none. Anyone can extinguish a friendship at any time for any reason, with no repercussions.

In a business partnership, there may not be fondness. There may not be trust. There may not be cordiality. But those are the bases of a friendship.

In a relationship between parent and child, there is an unequal power balance. The parent has authority, makes the decisions (ideally), and wields the control. A friendship is based on the nature of equality and the even sharing of power and decision-making between friends.

And marriage. You can only marry one person. Can you imagine the same limitation on friendships? There is always the question- would you rather have one close friend or 5 more distant ones. Can you even think to decide between the two? So many people respond- I would like 5 close friends, please and thank you. Me too.

My best friend lives 2000 miles away. It's probably one of the most difficult things I have had to deal with in a long time. God has been kind enough to send her here when I need her most (a breakup, for instance). But when you think about the insecurity of friendship, you know that a long-distance romance is one thing, but a long-distance friendship is harder than you can imagine.

A nasty case of MySpace

2007-04-23T18:38:00.000-04:00

MySpace has become like a virus… infecting everyone, and it’s spread through human-to-human contact. Friends knowingly transmit the disease to friends. “Get a MySpace. We can keep in touch.” I am not innocent in this epidemic.

Generation X, Y, and Z have become overwhelmed with MySpace hysteria. Many new bands do not bother creating web sites anymore, because of the ease of creating a MySpace site, and its access to their target demographic. Actors, comedians, and even political candidates have MySpace pages. It’s the ultimate self-promotion, and it’s so easy! No need to learn HTML anymore. Cut and paste from a few easy-to-use web sites, and you can have a custom-looking site in minutes.

But why? Why this proliferation of MySpace pages? For every moment that you refresh a page, more and more people have joined. Some people do it to meet people, especially romantic prospects. Others use it to promote their businesses or parties. Still others have social causes to support. And then there are some who do it out of sheer vanity. “Here I am! On the Internet! I’ll never be famous, but people all over the world can see blurry self-portraits taken with my cell phone!”

MySpace has become a calculated chaos designed to impress the masses. The home page of the site is a conglomeration of videos, advertising, “new members,” and promotions. It is almost unrecognizable as the networking web site it was originally intended to be. It’s only a matter of time before the commercialization of MySpace follows the nature of all things- from radio to television to magazines.

The motivations are varied. But result is the same. Self-promotion feeding self-absorption in an attempt to convey not the identity that one has, but the identity one wishes to have. Because in the end, the MySpace page is not for oneself, but for all to see. It’s impossible to forget that the world is watching. One is limited by the thing that seems most liberating- space.

How to meet a man...

2007-04-19T13:15:00.000-04:00

I have no idea. I have over a decade of dating experience, and I still don’t know how to meet men. I can tell you, however, what does NOT work:

The grocery store does not work. I actually dated a guy who I met at a grocery (the “singles” grocery, of course). There are a couple problems with this approach. First, you better not be buying anything embarrassing. Steal the pregnancy test if you must, but don’t leave it right there next to the Chex cereal. Second, I have found that the natural first date from a grocery store meeting is a homemade dinner. “Hey, you’re buying food! I like food!” This is not a good idea. There is nothing more awkward than being in your apartment with a stranger with nothing to distract you but some steak and salad. (Disclaimer: It’s not safe, either).

Museums, galleries, plays, and other cultural pursuits do not work. Again, there are a few problems with this idea. You think to yourself, I’m going to meet some urbane, sophisticated, mature man this way. No, you’re not. You are going to meet men with girlfriends or wives. You are going to meet gay men, or men who aren’t quite sure. You are going to meet men who spend more money on their shoes and more time on their hair than you do, and who wants to give up that much closet and bathroom space? It seems smart, but don’t bother.

Work- do I even need to say anything here? Best-case scenario, you get married and you lose your job. Worst-case scenario, you break up and lose your job. In between, you break up, and you keep your job and watch him date another co-worker. Does this even sound like fun?

If the men you meet at museums are a little too metrosexual, you’re thinking- fine, I’ll go to a sporting event! I will meet a man who is down-to-earth. He wears a baseball cap. He drinks Budweiser. He is passionate, you can tell by the way the veins in his neck pop out when something happens on the field. I hate to be the one to crush your dreams, but men at sporting events are not there to meet women. You are only going to annoy them by hitting on them. Have you tried to talk to your boyfriend when he is watching a game on TV and he ignores you? How do you think he feels when he’s watching it in real life? The only woman he is interested in at a sporting event is a cheerleader on the big screen.

If you think I’m even going to touch on bars and nightclubs or internet dating, you are thinking far too little of me.

At this point, you are thinking, “for pete’s sake… where DO I meet a decent man?” Re-read the first line. I have no idea. However, I have a suggestion. The only venue I have found no serious problems with is friends’ parties. As long as you get a go-ahead that someone is single, they obviously have some clearance from people you know as to not being crazy. They are not distracted by a live sporting event, and you don’t have to make them dinner. It’s the best I can offer. Then again, I’m single.

A dreamer deferred

2007-04-18T14:44:00.001-04:00

As a girl growing up in Detroit in the early 1980s, my dream job seemed easily attainable. I wanted to be a major league baseball manager. I knew a lot about baseball, I liked bossing people around; it seemed natural.

As I got older, I realized how unrealistic that dream was. I set my sights on a new career. I was going to be a fashion designer. My own outfits had always garnered a lot of attention (not necessarily complimentary attention, but attention all the same). It was time to put my artistic skills to work for the greater good of fashionable society.

The next turning point came when my older sister moved in with us while she finished law school. Something about the way she talked about it made it seem very glamorous (at least to a 12-year-old). And another career path was put into place.

After 10 years of chasing the dream of being an attorney (John Grisham should have to pay for my first three years of college- talk about glamorizing law), I realized something that until then seemed inconsequential. I hated law.

After completing bachelor’s and master’s degrees in communication, I taught for a while. But I’m still at a loss as to what I want to be when I grow up. The thing is, the one thing I have always loved to do is write. However, the going rate for writers is $0.00, or something slightly lower, counting postage.

Now I’m a secretary. It pains me a little to type that- to see the words come up on the screen and know that it is true. I can always tell myself it is a temporary situation. But I have held meaningless jobs for many years now. For someone with such high hopes as a child, I feel like the real world has come crashing down upon me with medical bills and car payments and student loans. All the practicalities of life make it impossible to quit the job where my most noteworthy praise is my ability to decipher dictation.

I am left with just a glimmer of hope that around the bend is the career I didn’t know I wanted.

The dreamer is deferred, but not destroyed.

An old blog from myspace

2007-04-18T14:10:00.000-04:00

Random observations (as inspired by Mitch)

Everything, with the exception of ice cream, tastes better with ranch dressing.

Being poor is okay. Being cheap is not.

I will never be satisfied with any of my profile pictures.

I buy CDs because I always like the B-side songs better.

It's perfectly fine to fake like you know shit.

I like to dance, even if there is no one else dancing. And no dance floor. And no music.

Men aren't all dicks. They are just different from women. Women aren't all crazy. They are just different from men. As soon as we all grasp this concept, we will be a lot better off.

Adam Dunn didn't just start sucking as a fielder. He just looked better compared to Wily Mo Pena than he does compared to Austin Kearns.

Catcher is the most underrated position in baseball.

If you keep going to the same places, talking to the same people, and doing the same thing, don't bitch that your life sucks.

If your profile name is something other than your name, it better be fucking clever.

There is an inverse proportion between attractiveness and fashion. The uglier you are, the better you have to dress. It's unfair, but so is a lot of stuff.

I have a couple dream jobs. One is baseball manager. The other is guerilla fashion advisor. I'd like to just go grab people and take them shopping. I'm just trying to make the world a better place.

Men call at 2am because they are horny and haven't met anyone at the bar willing to have sex with them. Women call at 2am not because they want to have sex, but because they want men to be thinking about having sex with them. For some reason, women are obsessed with having men be in love with them regardless of whether they like the guy or not. I'm a chick and I don't get it, so don't ask me to explain further.

Nice, shy guys think that they will never find nice women who don't play games. What they don't realize is that women play games with them because nice, shy guys scare easier than a chipmunks.

The rain will always blow in the direction of coming in my window.

There is an inverse proportion to the importance of your blog to the number of people who will respond to it- in other words, the more mundane, the more people respond.

Why can't we all just cuss and people get over it?

Pretty people have it easier. Bummer.

You know what would improve golf? Brawls.

If I was a basketball player, I would foul out of every game. And if I was a baseball player, I'd cleat every guy I ran into.

That's enough for now.

School daze

2007-04-18T11:08:00.001-04:00

May 7... the day of reckoning... so to speak. I'm going back to school.

Not for a PhD... I decided... I don't really want a PhD, because I don't think I really want to teach anymore. I'll never teach the way they want me to. I don't believe in grades... I think they are useless and arbitrary. I just don't think I have the personality to maintain that power distance between me and my students. Because of what I talked about in the last post- the value in each person... They can teach me just like I can teach them. I have a hard time with education in that sense.

So why am I going back? Well, a lot of people do value the degree... especially employers. So, in order to someday get a job I love and feel valued at, I need to go back to school and get a degree in something that will be respected. I still have things to learn, I don't doubt that. I'm getting a second bachelor's... this time in Public Relations... which has a little overlap with Communication, but not much, surprisingly.

My first class will be newswriting... I've always fancied myself a bit of a writer, so it will be interesting to get graded on it for the first time in four years... and non-academic/scholarly writing at that. I'd much rather write for "the masses" than academia... I guess that's why I'm doing this.

Education is a funny thing. In high school, they told us that college would be so hard, and they would talk really fast, and wouldn't stop and answer questions or repeat themselves. And it wasn't true at all. And in college, they told us that they were developing us for a career in the "real world." What a crock that was. If that were the case, my bachelor's and master's would have me doing something a little more pertinent than being a secretary. What really counts, I think, is life experience... what you learn in the classroom has value, I'm sure... it provides a foundation for what you will experience and gives you a basis from which to analyze that information. But to think that college prepares you for work... not true.

So despite all that, I'm going back... mainly to make contacts, get some credibility, and get my foot in the door. I hope it works... otherwise I'm going to be wasting some major cash.

Superiority Complex

2007-04-17T13:20:00.000-04:00

Last night I was at a meeting for the MidPoint Music Festival... it never ceases to amaze me that there are still so many people who are excited about Cincinnati and making it a destination, a hip place, and regional hot spot. It's heartening that there are some people who care deeply about the city.

However, I notice something about some of these folks (SOME being the operative word, and this is not necessarily about anyone at the meeting last night). Many of these folks have a somewhat "holier-than-thou" attitude... I guess stemming from the idea that they are out there keeping busy, making Cincinnati a better place... at the same time not realizing they are not making society a better place by showing common courtesy, by feeling they are in a place to judge others.

Let me illustrate. There is someone I know through one of my activities. Let's call this person Chris. Chris is highly intelligent and very intuitive. Chris and I have had one fairly deep conversation where we shared a great deal about our respective lives. I thought this would be the beginning of a unique friendship with a dynamic person.

Chris is the sort of person who believes there are rights, and there are wrongs. There are shoulds and should nots. Chris wants people to behave in a way that Chris finds appropriate. When someone breaks that norm, Chris has no problem sharing views on why that behavior is unacceptable, regardless of whether the person, or society, or God, or whomever, thinks it is.

I have a pretty intense personality... It took me a long time to like and value the person I am. I am finding that some of the people who do all these activities and participate in these organizations might value me, but they don't value those who DON'T devote every free moment to volunteer work. And Chris only values the people with whom Chris agrees.

The Dalai Lama has taught the Buddhist principle that all beings are equal and valuable. That you should treat everyone they same- whether you like them, are neutral, or dislike them. I try very hard to realize the value in each person. I think I do a decent job of it. When I see the value in myself, and the value in others, I'm filled with even more respect and concern for myself and others. It gives me a lot of peace of mind, that I am not sure some of these people have.

I will most likely be halting or taking a break from my friendship with Chris. It's become rather destructive to me, and I am not willing to put up with that. It's sad, because I think Chris and I would have had a marvelous friendship.

My Jerry Springer "final thought"- there is value in all things... including yourself. Demand that others respect that value, and make sure you give that value to others.

Namaste.

A new attempt at blogging

2007-04-12T13:28:00.000-04:00

I sometimes do a post on myspace... but nothing serious... we're not committed to each other.

I guess I'm doing this so I can write. Someday it would be rad to make money at writing... so I need the practice. I guess I'll get more in when I get back in school... but this will have to do in the meantime.

The thing is, I don't know what to write about. Me? Dear Lord, we have enough me floating around out there. I'm an open book... except for that private MySpace profile...

I could do social commentary... I've done that in the past. But I have become more laissez-faire in my old age, and the fight is not as strong as it once was... the fire in my heart is still smoldering, but it's more of a oxygenated ash then an out-of-control blaze.

Then there are my little observations on life... Maybe that's where I'll go with this... as illustrated through the World of Dale. My friends and I always say "it could only happen to Dale" and sometimes that's true. So maybe a combination of some observations, some stories, and a sprinkling of social commentary just to keep the ashes alive.

I'll end this first, brief post by thanking a good soul who has moved on. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. has passed away... disheartening. What a brilliant, mad genius. Breakfast of Champions is one of my favorite books... because it is one of the few books that can truly capture the madness of the mind. Whenever I read a book (usually written by the mentally ill) that can really illustrate the unbearable suffering and joy of insanity, I feel a kindred spirit is in my midst. KV was one of those writers... the reason that I keep writing. Sylvia Plath and JD Salinger are another two. They bring the light and the darkness that is madness to the forefront of human consciousness, and whenever people get out of their comfort zones... I feel a little more comfortable.

Namaste.