FemmeFare

Not sorry to see you go

2012-01-24T22:22:00.001-06:00

While most unsubscribe links lead to "We're sorry to see you go!" messaging and perhaps a short survey asking what turned you off, an e-newsletter I recently unsubscribed from took a different approach.

The whole experience reminded me of a phone conversation I had back in the days before Internet with a seventh-grade boyfriend. Before I had even finished my prepared explanation of why I wanted to end our nine-day relationship, he hastily interrupted and dumped ME. I was flabbergasted. When friends asked me what happened at school the next day, I wasn't sure who had broken up with whom. (A very important distinction in the seventh grade!)

That sneaky kid ... he ended up being sent to military school the next year for selling drugs out of his locker, but that's another story.

Back to unsubscribing - this was the landing page I first encountered:

After clicking the seemingly apathetic yet angrily red "SEE YA" button, I was presented with this page:

If I come around and realize my huge mistake, they'll take me back?! Well, this was certainly something different. But like a drug-dealing tween, it might have caught my eye, but I'm not sure I want to engage in another dysfunctional relationship.

Desperate shopwives

2011-12-19T22:12:00.001-06:00

Watching all of the holiday shopping commercials, it occurred to me that a new kind of icon has replaced the 1950s housewife.

The home backdrop has been replaced with discount stores, and the glazed-over eyes and frozen smile have been replaced with frenzied determination and unapologetic cockiness.

A funny kind of crazy has replaced a creepy kind of crazy.

It seems we can now exhibit masculine energy, but apply it to feminine tasks - which is apparently pretty hilarious - crazy women taking their silly lives so seriously.

Happy birthday, I guess.

2011-12-01T12:35:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was my birthday ... and while I admittedly enjoy pretty much any kind of attention, I couldn't help but be a bit disheartened by the number of flat "happy birthdays" I received via electronic communications.

I understand how annoying the obligatory "happy birthday" can be, and Facebook's new prompts only make you feel more guilty for not writing on the walls of every one of your 400 "friends" when you're alerted of the anniversary of their birth.

But you do have a choice: ignore the birthday alert or commit to the post by writing on the birthday girl's wall with some enthusiasm, for chrissakes. At least muster up an exclamation point or two after "happy birthday," or personalize it a bit with "happy birthday, Amy!" It's only three extra letters, people. The "happy birthdays" with no punctuation, or worse, a period, sort of put a damper on my special day. And even though I normally enjoy acronyms, "HBD" is just lazy.

A few hours into the work day, a colleague who must create Outlook alerts for everyone's birthdays sent an email out letting everyone know it was my birthday, and I started noticing the same grumpy grammar in responses from the rest of my team. I was equally annoyed by the obligatory thank yous I had to write back, but at least I faked it with smiley face emoticons :)

Then again, I also received a rather creepy e-card from a co-worker I've never met in person that featured a picture of me he somehow copied and pasted from Facebook in the middle of several birthday graphics and messages ... apparently it is possible to say "happy birthday" with too much enthusiasm. (His friend request is still pending.)

"Girls rock" is SO last season

2011-11-17T12:17:00.004-06:00

First Forever 21 and J.C. Penne y came out with shirts for girls that said "Allergic to Algebra" and "I'm too pretty to do homework so my brother has to do it for me" (sexist, terribly written AND hideous!).

And now Gymboree is selling "Smart like Dad" and "Pretty like Mommy" onesies. Apparently a "Smart like Mommy" variation doesn't exist.

What's next? Maternity tops that proclaim across the belly, "Here's hoping she's dumb and beautiful!"? Adorable!

JC Penney and Forever 21 pulled their shirts when customers voiced their outrage. Sign this petition to tell Gymboree they're perpetuating damaging gender stereotypes.

Photo credits:
http://act.credoaction.com/campaign/sexist_shirts/?r=231259&id=27202-2415163-OdD0YBx
http://sparkamovement.tumblr.com/post/12568193592/whenrobotsreproduce-a-friend-of-mine-posted-a

Kim's fairy tale divorce

2011-11-01T22:17:00.003-05:00

It's shocking to me that people are shocked that Kim Kardashian filed for divorce after 72 days of marriage. Aside from the obvious red flags of her lightning-speed engagement and neanderthal husband's awful personality, two words sealed the divorce deal: "fairy tale." (I - and Merriam-Webster - think it's two words, E!)

Kim's wedding special on E! was called Kim's Fairytale Wedding. Kim wrote on her blog today, "It just didn't turn out to be the fairy tale I had so badly hoped for." Why does everyone on reality TV think they're signing up for a reality fairy tale, when in fact they're signing up for pretty much the opposite - public humiliation and disastrous relationships?

Let this be a lesson to prospective Bachelor contestants - I'm not sure I can sit through another season of bachelorette after desperate bachelorette's juvenile monologues about happily ever after and Prince Charming. Remember Santa? How he wasn't real? Fairy tales are kinda like that, except it turns out your mom can't even keep up the charade - not even if she's Kris Jenner.

Photo credit: http://getglue.com/stickers/e/kims_fairytale_wedding_a_kardashian_event_part_2

Feminist edit

2011-10-25T12:30:00.000-05:00

A screenshot from today's nytimesonline.com article, "I.B.M. Names Virginia Rometty as New Chief Executive":

I guess old habits do die hard.

Take your teddy to work?

2011-10-11T12:23:00.002-05:00

Yesterday in honor of Columbus Day, Gawker.com posted "The 10 Stupidest American Holidays." I agreed with most of them until I learned that today is Take Your Teddy Bear to Work Day.

Yup, I had to Google it to believe it too... apparently it's a fun way to de-stress. My friend told me her office is celebrating it, but I haven't seen any stuffed bears around here. Probably because 'ole Teddy reminds us of childhood dreams circling the drain... We much prefer crying quietly into vodka bottles under our cubes.

Photo credit: http://www.dearteddybear.com/index.php/teddybear/Bears_for_Him

Playboy clubs history

2011-10-04T08:06:00.003-05:00

In an August Hollywood Reporter article about NBC's new show The Playboy Club, Gloria Steinem, who worked undercover at the club to report on working conditions, predicted the show would not "depict the scene realistically." And if last night's episode was an allusion to Steinem's Bunny stint, the show has indeed taken rewriting history to a new level.

The episode introduces us to Bunny Doris, who we first see auditioning for a job at the club. Even though Club Manager Billy thinks she's "full of herself," Bunny Mother Carol-Lynne sticks her neck out and hires the enthusiastic applicant. Then we see Doris shakily begin her Bunny career, barely able to walk in her high heels. Despite the never-ending slew of annoying questions Doris fires at her new colleagues, her fellow Bunnies happily welcome her and give her the inside scoop.

Unfortunately, Doris turns out to be an undercover reporter for the Daily News. The friendly little Bunnies have been duped. But instead of reporting on sexual harassment, low wages and mandatory STD testing, like Steinem did (guess the rule against "dating" keyholders doesn't prohibit other activities...), Doris writes a sensationalized story, entitled "Bloody Bunny," about a Bunny who killed a man. In the one twist I actually didn't expect, that Bunny ends up being Janie (not Maureen, who we saw kill a man in the pilot), but of course Don Draper wannabe Nick Dalton saves the day, somewhat inexplicably.

Part two of the "Bloody Bunny" story is buried, and Doris is shamed by Carol-Lynne after she tries to explain herself:

Mother Bunny Carol-Lynne: These girls come from all walks of life, and they're just trying to go somewhere better ... we give these girls a chance. I don't understand why you would want to destroy that.

Bad Bunny Doris: I came here to find a big story, and I thought this was the kind of place where terrible, illicit things happened.

MBC: And instead you found a group of hard-working girls just trying to make a life for themselves. Why don't you write about that?

BBD: Because that kind of story doesn't sell papers.

MBC: Maybe not, but at least it's the truth.

So ... is that what Steinem should have written about? How Playboy empowered hard-working girls? Sadly, as much as the male producers of The Playboy Club are trying to convince viewers that Bunnies were the only women who could be anything they wanted, that they were changing the world, it's simply not the truth. I'm not even sure it's a television show ... seems more like a PR campaign.

Photo credit: www.nbc.com

Always a bridesmaid model...

2011-09-14T22:56:00.001-05:00

I'm starting to wonder if bridesmaid models have the same cliched complex bridesmaids supposedly have ... "always a bridesmaid [model], never a bride [model]." (I for one have always enjoyed being a bridesmaid.)

Obsessively scouring the Internet for the perfect bridesmaid dresses for my beach wedding, I think I've come across every characterization of the bitter bridesmaid:

The scornful bridesmaid

The exhausted bridesmaid

The bridesmaids who hate each other

The bridesmaid who hates you

Sadly the pictures I took on a shopping excursion with two of my bridesmaids looked a lot like the above ... but I expect them to look more like this on MY SPECIAL DAY:

All smiles and swallowed resentment - even though I'm making them travel to Mexico...

Photo credits:
http://www.lizfields.com/Product/Bridesmaid-Dresses/Short-Empire-Style-230/
http://www.billlevkoff.com/style/bridesmaid-dress/569
http://www.landadesigns.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=4&sort=20a&page=7
http://www.billlevkoff.com/style/bridesmaid-dress/572 http://www.lizfields.com/Product/Bridesmaid-Dresses/Short-Sweetheart-Style-223/

Scary Face strikes spin class again

2011-08-24T22:40:00.001-05:00

There is a woman who goes to my gym that makes this face while she's working out:It frightens me. Sometimes she sticks out her tongue and wiggles it. And she goes to about half the classes I go to...

I complained about her to a friend, and she informed me that Scary Face has lost over 100 pounds! Apparently she was the winner of some contest at our gym ... and apparently I am an insensitive jerk.

I am very impressed, but when Scary Face happens to be on the bike across from me at spin class, I tend to forget about how hard she must be working and instead become distracted by the facial calamity I can't help staring at.

Is it too much to ask that facial control be part of gym etiquette? I often make scary faces during spin class sprints and dancer's body squats (minus the wiggling tongue), but I courteously lower my head so no one has to witness the hideousness. I feel the same way about grunting. My high school gymnastics coach once told me not to be afraid to make noise while lifting weights because I'm a girl. I responded, "Ew! Neither gender should grunt like that in public!" (in my head). Let's save the strained noises and expressions for our home gyms and bathrooms, please.

Photo credit: http://www.costumecraze.com/BTMN70.html?c=cj,BTMN70?c=cj (In case you want to be my workout buddy for Halloween!)

A facial for your vulva!

2011-08-02T13:05:00.000-05:00

A promotion I received today from a hair removal salon entertained and disturbed me so much that I've mustered the energy to end a rather long blogging dry spell.

Tucked away about halfway down an email titled "What's New in August," I found this:

Where to begin!? First of all, WHY would they use "What's New in August" as the email title (and subject line)? I would imagine something like "Does your vulva need a facial?" would have improved the open rate. Second, I'd just like to draw attention to what they've named the service: "Jewel Box" - as if "vagifacial" isn't descriptive and creepy enough.

But they are doing something right ... in terms of marketing (very wrong, of course, in terms of helping women, as those objectives are almost always at odds). Per Advertising 101, the text informs the consumer of a problem she probably didn't even know she had, and offers up a solution. And in doing so it taps into tried and true insecurities, but also creates new and innovative reasons for women to hate their bodies - and spend their money.

Perhaps Sketchers should shape up

2011-05-17T07:45:00.000-05:00

Companies marketing "adult" products to young girls is nothing new (Abercrombie Kids' thongs, "sexy" Halloween costumes for tots, etc.), but something especially irks me about the new Sketchers Shape-ups for girls commercial. It's the sloppy and misguided use of "girl power."

What exactly is going on in the scene where the trim and happy girl is being chased by slovenly boys dressed in ice cream cone, cupcake and hot dog outfits? Girls rule and boys drool? Or skinny girls rule and fat girls drool over junk food? All of the above?

Girl power used to mean hairy armpits, burning bras and the rejection of oppressive norms. Then marketers got a hold of it and are trying to convince a younger generation that it means attaining the very same unattainable beauty standards the feminist movement tore down.

I think it's messed up that Sketchers is marketing Shape-ups to girls (and if you agree I encourage you to sign this petition). But I'm not going to deny there's a market for them (that's unfortunately probably a lot more profitable than Shape-ups for boys). What pisses me off more is that the campaign mixes the girl power message with another that tells girls as young as seven that they need to shape up.

I buy beauty products and am probably a little too obsessed with going to the gym... I also consider myself a feminist. I'm pretty sure the latter is in spite of, not because of, the former.

No boys allowed

2011-04-26T20:34:00.000-05:00

I've been going to yet another new gym for a few months now, and I'm in like with it. What has kept my love from blossoming is one thing. Or person, rather. One rather smelly boy.

The reason I really like the gym is that it has an amazing variety of classes. I never get bored, even though I've been working out five days a week. What I do get at least once a week though is extremely irritated -- by the smelly boy, who consistently crashes the cardio dance class.

I like the class because it's supposed to be fun, but my dancing career ended with junior high school poms, and I'm not so comfortable shaking my booty in the presence of random men (at least when I'm sober and wearing a lot of spandex). I much prefer the aerobic atmosphere of women, united by shamelessness and gender.

The smelly boy waltzes into class halfway through, so he never learns the routine with us. He just watches us for a while and then "picks it up." Last week he sat on a bench that happened to be about a foot away from my face when we turned to the back of the room and did a move called "cleavage shot." My enthusiasm for the routine -- and my workout -- suffered as I tried to avoid eye contact. I thought I would get some relief when smelly boy finally joined the group, but he proceeded to pick a spot about two feet TOO CLOSE to me. Not only did his unbearable stench waft toward me every time we turned and dropped to the floor for push-ups (Ms. Fitness USA-style), but he ALMOST KICKED ME more than once. Sidenote: It was not a full class. There was PLENTY OF ROOM.

Then toward the end of the class, smelly boy waved in one of his friends who was lurking outside the door. At first I thought he was going to join us too -- which would have been annoying enough -- but no, he just STOOD THERE AND WATCHED for five or 10 minutes. All the booty-shaking, the cleavage-showing, the body-rolling. Just. Watched. I'm now getting the sceevies all over again just thinking about it.

What most perplexes me is that everyone else in the class seems to enjoy the male presence. Last week the instructor even named a dance move after the smelly boy. He doesn't even come to the whole class! And have I mentioned that he REEKS? I know people sweat at the gym, and I don't expect it to smell like roses, but this guy either doesn't wear deodorant or doesn't wash his shirt -- or more likely -- both. Crusty sweat stains speak for themselves.

I hate to be (reverse) sexist, but I'd think the smell -- and the awkwardness -- would be alleviated if the class were reserved for women. Not officially, of course; that would probably be illegal (or Curves). But it should just be understood. And if you are a boy who just loves to dance, at least show some respect -- for the schedule and our bodies, especially our delicate noses.

Laptops in the "ladies" room

2011-04-19T20:47:00.001-05:00

I've noticed yet another disturbing trend lately -- laptops in the ladies' room. Twice now I've seen women coming out of my office bathroom with their laptops in tow. And a friend of mine confirmed she's witnessed it too. Apparently their work and/or bowels just cannot wait.

The second woman I saw actually smiled and said hello as I passed by her in shock and awe. Personally, I'm mortified by most bathroom activities and avoid eye contact whenever I go near it. So I'm thoroughly confused by this brazen bathroom behavior.

Should I be impressed by their work ethic -- or horrified by their uncleanliness?

Photo source: http://thenextweb.com/

Ringbook

2011-03-20T15:32:00.002-05:00

Remember when girls used to ~~rub in~~ celebrate their engagements by shaking their limp-wristed, newly bejeweled hands in your face? Well despite the fact that I'm of a certain age, I actually haven't seen that in a while. What I have seen is its online equivalent on Facebook.

Feeling particularly stalker-y this morning, I clicked on a friend of a friend's profile whose engagement announcement showed up in my newsfeed. Then did a doubletake. The picture she had uploaded of her ring was actually her PROFILE PICTURE. An entire life -- reduced to half a finger and a politically incorrect piece of jewelry.Now, I know, er, assume it's very exciting to get engaged ... but I think the urge to shout from the rooftops should be checked. E-mailing a picture of your ring to people who ask is totally acceptable; posting a picture to Facebook is slightly obnoxious; changing your profile picture... completely ridiculous.

Are British women happier than American women?

2011-03-14T20:43:00.001-05:00

I may have missed the point of Saturday's New York Times column about Britain's new "national happiness index," but the part that most interested me was the British research mentioned that found "women tend to be happier than men." Huh? I always assumed men were happier than women ... they make more money, have less socially unacceptable body hair to contend with, grow more attractive with age... I thought that's why they fall asleep faster -- nothing but visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads.

A quick Google search confirmed my suspicion -- with regard to Americans. So how have our sisters across the pond achieved the upperhand when it comes to happiness? A few theories:

Uniformed schoolgirls learn about role models like Elizabeth I and Margaret Thatcher -- without the distraction of dressing themselves in the hottest fashions every morning.
Although the UK has a similar salary gap, British ladies can at least admire the likeness of their gender when parting with their hard-earned cash.
While their lack of grooming and dieting obsessions might offend American men, this doesn't seem to bother British women much.

Every woman's fantasy?

2011-02-01T08:15:00.001-06:00

On last night's Bachelor, Shawntel gets to live out what viewers are made to believe is every woman's fantasy - the Pretty Woman shopping scene. Brad kicks off their one-on-one date by taking Sahwntel on a shopping spree at a high-end Las Vegas mall (no doubt funded by ABC).

When she gets back to the suite she's sharing with the rest of Brad's harem, Shawntel shows off her designer gifts and changes into an obscenely overpriced dress while the other girls' jealousy flares. Suddenly their self-professed dreams go from living out a fairy tale, achieving their very own "happily ever after" by snagging their very own "Prince Charming," to living out the Julia Roberts classic Pretty Woman.

Um... is everyone forgetting that Julia Roberts played a PROSTITUTE? Richard Gere's character is a wealthy businessman who picks her up in the obligatory pleather hooker boots and an equally horrendous mini skirt-half top combo and decides to PAY HER to extend her stay for a week and accompany him to fancy pants social obligations. He ends up taking her on a shopping spree after she tries to use his money to purchase appropriate clothing on her own and is snubbed by snobby saleswomen who (correctly) assume she is a PROSTITUTE.

Now, don't get me wrong - I love watching the Pretty Woman shopping scene, especially when Julia Roberts goes back to the store she was shamed out of, gigantic shopping bags in tow: "You work on commission right? Big mistake. Big. Huge... I have to go shopping now!"

If I were ever a prostitute, I would hope to be the spunky Vivian Ward type. But do I dream of living out Pretty Woman? Of exchanging sex for money and clothes? Of having to fight off the creepy advances of George Costanza? Um, no thanks. And I sincerely hope I'm not in the minority on that sentiment.

Photos courtesy of abc.go.com and Wikipedia.

Another reason you should hate MTV's Skins

2011-01-24T07:01:00.001-06:00

MTV's new show Skins has lost a third sponsor and may be in violation of child pornography laws. As we learned from Jersey Shore, controversy often does more good than harm for generating buzz and viewership - lost advertising revenue aside, I predict the show will, regrettably, be a hit.

What producers can't applaud themselves for, however, is authenticity. Maybe it's because I grew up in the Midwest... but I'm completely befuddled by reviews like this Newsweek article that claim Skins "may be the most realistic show on television." Despite, or perhaps due to the fact that producer Bryan Elsley created the show with his 19-year-old son and employs teenage consultants and actors, I think it comes across as more teenage fantasy than reality. (Disclaimer: I couldn't sit through the whole thing, which says a lot, considering my usual zeal for trashy television.)

Consider, for example, the cheerleading scene... Apparently at Skins' high school, the cheerleaders wear bras for tops and end routines by groping the flier - who happens to be a lipstick lesbian.

The most realistic thing in the scene is the mascot perched upon each perky breast, which looks A LOT like the pride of UW-Madison - Bucky Badger.

If someone at MTV isn't locked up for child pornography, can they at least be prosecuted for defiling our beloved mascot? "The coolest school in America" should not be associated with this silly little show.

LAST CHANCE! (this week.)

2011-01-18T21:37:00.002-06:00

I've noticed an annoying trend in my in-box: retailers that cry wolf. Although every subject line frantically warns me that it's my "LAST CHANCE" to get a discount, by some seeming miracle, the next day or week I usually get a similar offer. Once a sucker for any hint of free shipping, I have lost the sense of urgency that used to keep me online shopping at all hours of the day. Now I'm just running on boredom... which usually leads to more browsing than purchasing.

As somewhat of an e-mail marketer myself, I understand that through testing, you usually find that the dumbest subject lines, unfortunately, perform the best. But when it gets to the point where every sender is making the same empty threats, I have to imagine they lose their effectiveness.

I suggest companies stick to the tried and true "list" message: Top 10 Trends of the Season? Top 5 Shoe Repair Boutiques in Chicago? I don't care what is being ranked. I must find out who is no. 1. And if a freebie is thrown into the mix, even better. "Win the Top 10 Books of 2010"? ... yes, please.

Cheer to the CTA

2011-01-05T07:44:00.001-06:00

Although I didn't resolve to stop complaining this year (I refuse to deprive myself of my favorite pastime), I still think it would be nice to start 2011 off with an uncharacteristic rave about one of my favorite things to rant about: the CTA.

Waiting for the train at the Quincy/Wells station yesterday, I witnessed something in the flesh that I thought only existed in the delusions of CEOs and fabrications of press releases: customer service. I have seen customer service "emergency" buttons, but after mistaking them more than twice for heater and elevator buttons, I've concluded that they're just there for decoration. I've also seen customer service windows, but they're usually in front of empty chairs and covered with signs that say things like, "NO CHANGE PROVIDED."

I could go on ... but this post is positive. Yesterday I saw with my own eyes what I believe to have been a customer service representative... or at least a CTA employee providing a service to customers!

In an attempt to escape for a few minutes the misery to which we've condemned ourselves for 3 to 4 months by signing a lease or purchasing property in Chicago, commuters such as myself tend to wait for their train inside rather than freeze to near death on the platform. This can be quite a risk at stations that service multiple lines, however. Someone with her head in a very interesting book about Elizabeth the First that reveals just how laughable the nickname "Virgin Queen" was, for example, might not notice her train approaching and miss her chance to get through the door first and snag a seat - or miss her train entirely.

But yesterday this fine gentleman bearing a CTA badge took it upon himself to call out the trains as they were approaching. So I want to say thank you, CTA, for hiring and keeping an employee gruntled enough to add a bit of cheer to my commute - and New Year.

Dear UPS, I don't have a housewife

2010-12-21T22:24:00.000-06:00

I've come to the conclusion that UPS has not updated its business model or customer service strategy since the 1950s. Despite my extensive experience with online shopping, I still cannot figure out when and how some items are simply dropped off inside the security door of my apartment building (by USPS?), while others require someone to be home to buzz in a UPS driver.

As a result, sometimes I'm pleasantly surprised to find an Amazon box full of books, for example, conveniently placed below my mailbox. But after other online splurges, I'm plagued by UPS slips stuck to my door, infuriating conversations with customer service and sadistic delivery windows.

Although the missed delivery slip from a UPS driver gives you a reasonable idea of when they will be back the next day, between 10 a.m. and 12:30 p.m., for example, if the driver forgets to leave a slip, which has happened twice this month, the customer service representative gives you a window of 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. What kind of a window is that?? And why does the driver know but customer service does not? I would think a simple computer system could solve this mystery.

And if you know you won't be home for the delivery and call UPS to let them know, you have to pay $6 to have them deliver to a different address or at a later date. I know it's only $6, but this also pisses me off. Especially when the package is a gift to you from someone else. I don't think my mom meant to have me pay a fee to get my birthday present.

What really irritates me though is that I have the benefit of quite a bit of flexibility for an office worker. I can usually work from home when I need to, so it should be easy for me to get packages. If the UPS driver could manage to remember to stick the missed delivery slip to my door, I should be able to arrange to be home by the third delivery. Yet 80 percent of deliveries turn into utter nightmares.

During one heated phone call to the terminally unhelpful customer service number, I was told in an exasperated tone that "all I needed to do" was make sure "someone" was home between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. Who do they expect to be home all day? Unfortunately I'm not a housewife, and I'm not married to a housewife. Perhaps UPS is not aware of the fact that most households of this century are made up of two people (or one) who are working or commuting during those hours.

Market research... computer systems... customer service that actually provides a service - these are things most businesses today have gotten the hang of. Might do UPS - and its customers - some good to get on board.

Bridalplasty... too distrurbed to think of a clever title

2010-12-08T07:57:00.000-06:00

E! (and I) have sunk to a new low: Bridalplasty. The new show, which I watched two (partial!) episodes of last weekend, hits the reality TV trifecta: extreme makeover, dream wedding and elimination voting.

Brides-to-be with lengthy plastic surgery wish lists (and body dysmorphic disorder) compete for the "perfect wedding," which apparently requires a new face and body. According to Eonline bios, contestants are hoping to win up to 15 surgical procedures, including some I never knew existed.

"Liposuction of flanks" is a popular one - according to this website, flanks are "located just under the bra line on the sides and back." I thought it was a kind of steak. Another body part that apparently needs the fat sucked out of it is the knee. Cheyanne here even specifies she would like "inner knee" lipo - I'm sure it was very painful for her, getting teased about her inner knees in grade school.

That's a picture of her before any surgery, by the way...

Has our cultural sanity plummeted that much in less than a year? Weren't we all horrified when Heidi Montag revealed she had 10 plastic surgery procedures in one day? I guess E! was more inspired than disturbed... to define "perfection" as this:

Photo sources:
http://www.eonline.com/on/shows/bridalplasty/cast_bios.html
http://justjared.buzznet.com/2010/03/09/heidi-montag-spoofs-plastic-surgery-in-funny-or-die-video/

Holiday Indulgence

2010-11-16T12:45:00.002-06:00

My Pandora station was just interrupted by an audio ad for Cold Stone ice cream cakes. It said something like, "While you're enjoying holiday music, you might like to know Cold Stone is also celebrating the season."

Mmmm ice cream cake... yes, I would like to learn more! I clicked on the display ad on Pandora, which took me to a generic landing page describing all of Cold Stone's signature cakes.
The campaign could have been better if it had pointed to a more festive page describing holiday cakes, but I'm still impressed. And anyway customized landing pages .... sound like a lot of work.

Holiday station listeners are an excellent target. Those of us who can't wait for after Thanksgiving to start listening to Christmas music probably also lack self control when it comes to ice cream and chocolate. And no shame in admitting they've created not one, but two holiday stations, one of which is based on Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You" - even better.

My Slutty Feminist Halloween Costume

2010-10-28T20:09:00.003-05:00

Last year I poked fun at "sexy" Halloween costumes as if I didn't partake in the ridiculousness.... but this year I have to be honest. I am actually quite vain, and I like looking relatively attractive on Halloween - and most other days. But don't let that fool you. I am indeed a feminist - and adept at the art of rationalization.

Now I'm sure you've seen flapper costumes before, and you probably brushed them off as somewhat risque on the Halloween slut spectrum. But that was before you knew the meaning behind them!

Yes, the word "flapper" once meant "prostitute," but let's not dwell on that. The flapper costume is a nod to the "new breed" of young women who rebelled against traditional Victorian gender norms in the 1920s.

Ironically, many old-school sufragettes "viewed flappers as vapid and in some ways unworthy of the enfranchisement they had worked so hard to win." But others argued that "flappers' laissez-faire attitude was simply a natural progression of feminine liberation."

Oh how history repeats itself! I think instead of giving dirty looks to their flapper-costumed sisters, females who take the high road with banana suits or Amelia Earhart outfits should join us in ridiculing sexy schoolgirls (or any other pedophilia-encouraging ensemble) - or better yet, helping NARAL and Planned Parenthood get pro-choice candidates elected next week - once we've recovered from Halloween hangovers.

Quote source - Wikipedia; Photo courtesy of costumebox.com.au

A cocktail a day keeps the writer's block away

2010-10-19T08:34:00.001-05:00

The benefits of alcohol just keep flowing. In addition to helping you live a longer life, a cocktail or five can also help you be a better writer, according to coppyblogger. The first tip in "Five Ways to Write Magnificent Copy" is "Write drunk; Edit sober." Although the blog claims you don't need to take this advice literally, I think many, including Faulkner and Draper, would disagree.

And you thought liquid lunches were counterproductive.

Photo courtesy of amctv.com.

Offices are for pretending to work, not pretending to wash dishes

2010-10-12T18:32:00.001-05:00

As if it's not depressing enough to come into the office in the morning, for the last week I've had to stare at this oatmeal encrusted bowl of dishwater while I'm making coffee. I'm becoming increasingly irritated.

I'm not asking myself, what's wrong with people? I'm asking myself, what's wrong with my office?? Everyone knows people are disgusting and lazy, but cubicle culture is supposed to be designed to hide these attributes. An office is no place for dish soap, sponges or scrub brushes. These things are meant to accumulate germs and scum and crust in your home, where the smallest number of innocent bystanders are affected. Your roommate has the option to look for tidier accommodations when your lease is up; your significant other has the option to withhold affections until you empty the dishwasher; but in this economy, your co-workers don't have many options when it comes to avoiding your filth.

But I don't want to place the blame on the filthy employee. It's the office's fault for providing filthy employees with "cleaning" tools, which quickly morph into germ spreading tools when left to the masses. Who is responsible for switching out the grody sponges? Who is responsible for putting a time limit on "soaking" dishes in the sink? These things are impossible to determine in an office setting. I may resolve the whole issue by tossing all dishwashing-related items into the garbage, along with the stale oatmeal bowl.

Over Don Draper

2010-10-05T21:20:00.002-05:00

What is it about Don Draper that turns intelligent, professional women into pathetic idiots? I for one have had enough of him and his furrowed brows.

I had high hopes for Faye, which were injured when she started dating him, and destroyed by last Sunday's episode when she compromised her career and integrity in a desperate attempt to hook a man who couldn't even be bothered to shower between diddling his toothy secretary and snuggling with her.

I understand the bad boy appeal - to silly girls who don't know any better - but Faye... I thought better of her. Especially after she went off on Don for basically asking her to snoop on her clients. But then she went crawling back, which makes it even more pitiful.

Mad Men has literally started making me sick - I get a queasy feeling every time a new female character is introduced. But like one of Don's doe-eyed admirers, I just keep coming back for more... hoping for an episode in which Don is more worried about venereal disease than losing accounts, or a season in which Peggy becomes the main character.

Photo courtesy of amctv.com.

High School Pad

2010-08-31T07:22:00.001-05:00

It's official: The Bachelor Pad is high school for "adults." Amidst the cliques, gossip and backstabbing, last night contestants had to vote on labels for each other, senior yearbook style.

Poor Gwen was voted dumbest, although it's possible the woman doesn't even know how old she is. Elizabeth got most shallow, to which she responded that she doesn't "even know what shallow really means," and worst boob job, which is hilarious... unless you happen to be Elizabeth. And Natalie was predicted to always be a bridesmaid, never the bride - even by her secret boyfriend... ouch. (He also called her dumb, but she seemed to think that was funny.)

I still remember what I "won" senior year - Biggest Ego - complete with a cartoon of me admiring myself in the mirror. Although I had pranced around school in a crown and sash that said "Dancing Queen" on my 17th birthday, I was shocked and hurt that my classmates thought I was self centered... Good thing my high school days were numbered and then I never had to see them in the rear view of my compact again.

Unlike high schoolers, however, the Bachelor Pad residents at least pretended to feel bad about having to insult each other. And some of the boys really impressed me with their awareness of how insecurities can eat away at the female gender - especially the kind of females that go on the Bachelor... So shame on you, ABC, for stooping to a new low; but good for you, Kiptyn and Kovacs, for pleasantly surprising viewers, despite your questionable taste in women.

Photo courtesy of ABC website.

Goldilocks and the Three Celebs

2010-08-24T22:10:00.007-05:00

I should have known better, but I forgot my book and had a 40-minute train ride ahead of me... I bought an issue of In Touch last week. I expected to look at some pictures of pretty people and read some gossip, some of which of course would be about so-and-so's diet or bikini body or whatever, but what I got was a new level of obnoxious I didn't know existed.

Sections entitled "Weight Update," "Body News," "Body Report" (more in-depth journalism than "Body News"?) and "Fit and Fab" are a Goldilocks story of who's too fat, who's too skinny and who's just right - this week at least.

An article entitled "Gaga gains some LOVE POUNDS" features then and now photos of the pop star and declares her "workout obsessed" in the former and "fleshier" in the latter. Although the article speculates that the extra pounds might signify "happiness weight," the conclusion is that Gaga will thankfully be back in shape soon: "... surely, it's just a matter of time before the lovebirds hit the treadmills together and Gaga gets her washboard abs back - all in the name of love!"

But another article, "Has Lea lost TOO MUCH WEIGHT?" (their capitalization... gripping), expresses concern that the Glee star's "extreme diet and workouts" are unhealthy. The article discusses the detrimental idea of perfection in "Hollywood," but conveniently leaves out the role tabloids play... A sidebar on co-star Jenna Ushkowitz mentions that she has dropped 10 pounds and now weighs 108. Good to know so readers can obsessively compare themselves - thanks In Touch!

Carrie Underwood, however, is applauded for her workouts in "The secret to her amazing legs." Not sure why amazing isn't in all caps, but the subhead makes up for it: "It's not just that post-wedding glow that has Carrie Underwood looking hotter than ever!" Her trainer tells the magazine Carrie "trains like a pro athlete." Apparently the singer has managed to balance on the fine between obsessed and fabulous.

And finally, "What's their bikini age?" scrutinizes six side-by-side celeb photos, calling those whose routines entail just the right mix of exercise, plastic surgery and splash of anorexia "hot mama" and "electrifying," and the losers "bloated and saggy" and "boyish."

What a clever editorial calendar: Publish some unflattering cellulite photos, then document the transformation in a feel-good feature, then write up a news alert when the diet and exercise go too far. This utter ridiculousness will either encourage us to give up the chase for "perfection"... or there's really no hope left.

Don’t judge a book by its title

2010-08-16T12:28:00.002-05:00

I have a couple issues with the “wife” book trend, although I keep reading them… (Obviously this is a marketing tactic that works.) First, as others have pointed out, it’s rather sexist. Defining who the reader assumes to be the main character in relation to her husband and/or marital status implies that she has no independent identity. Although in some cases — American Wife, for example — I think that’s the point. The main character, inspired by Laura Bush, brings an overshadowed Stepford Wife to life.

But at least those titles make some sense. What I find more irritating is when the main character isn’t even the wife. The Doctor’s Wife, a thriller that deals with the abortion debate (interesting combo) could just as easily be called The Painter’s Wife, or Adulterers and Crazy Pro-Lifers… The book focuses on four main characters and two f-ed up marriages. So why just one wife in the title? Because that’s what sells I suppose.

So with those issues in mind, here are my reviews of five wives:

American Wife
Gist: It turns out Laura Bush, er, I mean Alice Lindgren, has a mind of her own and a semi-scandalous history.
Title: A
Book: A

A Reliable Wife
Gist: A wealthy widower in the frozen misery of 1907 Wisconsin puts an ad in the paper for a “reliable wife.” Whether he got what he asked for is up for debate.
Title: A+
Book: A-

The Doctor’s Wife
Gist: A small-town doctor starts moonlighting at an abortion clinic, while his wife gets some much-needed attention from a co-worker, who happens to be married to a wackadoo pro-lifer.
Title: D
Book: B+

The Senator’s Wife
Gist: A young couple moves in next door to an older woman who is somewhat estranged from her husband, a former senator and current perv.
Title: D
Book: C+

T he Spare Wife
Gist: An ex trophy wife charms both female and male friends in her elite Manhattan circle (yawn) by claiming to have less interest in romance than sports and politics, which is of course BS.
Title: B
Book: D

Bad Samaritan

2010-07-30T13:15:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I almost crossed the street to avoid a small child who was selling lemonade. I didn’t actually cross the street, but I did quickly say no when he started to ask me if I would like to purchase a beverage. And then as I continued walking I started to wonder what my problem was. I probably should have given this young entrepreneur 50 cents and a boost of confidence, even though I wasn’t thirsty. Now he’s probably going to end up living in his mother’s basement for the rest of his life.

But I’d argue it’s not my fault. I blame the guy who sells StreetWise outside my neighborhood CVS, the three to four veterans asking for donations at the train station, the Greenpeace people asking me if I want to save the environment outside my office, the panhandlers asking for spare change on every corner… Everywhere I go strangers are asking me for money. I know this makes me a terrible person, but I’ve resolved to ignore them all. I know I could pick one to help out, but I’m overwhelmed by the sheer volume of requests. And I don’t like talking to strangers.

So I walk briskly and keep my head down. And if I accidentally make eye contact I immediately start shaking my head if it looks like the person is going to speak. Even if that person is a lost tourist, or a small child… So this is my defense for when I end up on one of those hidden camera shows about bad Samaritans – or in hell.

Keep your laws off my eyeballs

2010-07-22T12:51:00.001-05:00

It has come to my attention that the suburb of my birth is trying to outlaw the eye-roll, and although I wasn't the eye-rolling resident who was "ejected" from a city council meeting, I still consider this a personal insult.

I was delivered by a doctor in that very town 27 and a half years ago -- he announced "It's a girl!" and I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, "Yeah that's something to celebrate. Seventy-five cents on the dollar. Cigars all around!" With that kind of a beginning it's no wonder I grew up to become "the eye-rolling queen" (according to my friend who sent me the article).

If I possessed any motivation and a vehicle I'd maybe consider starting a petition and marching it out to Elmhurst to fight for the right to eye-roll. I'm just glad U.S. Cellular hasn't succeeded in outlawing the shrug.

What came first: the reality show or the psychosis?

2010-07-19T20:19:00.000-05:00

I have an embarrassing obsession with the Real Housewives shows. I have watched every episode of every season of every city. I. Love. This. Show. But I’m afraid something is starting to spoil it for me: bizarre paranoia (and two extremely annoying and crazy women named Danielle and Kelly).

Both crazy ladies have convinced themselves that their castmates are trying to kill them. Not that castmates hate them or have it out for them: They actually claim their lives are in danger. Danielle travels with bodyguards and ex-cons for “protection,” and Kelly talks gibberish about death threats, vampires and satchels of gold.

Obviously reality shows cast a certain type — a special type of crazy that will shock, awe and entertain the masses. But there’s a difference between fun-crazy or even irritating-crazy and should-be-institutionalized crazy. That kind of crazy — the straight-jacket kind — probably shouldn’t be exploited on television.

But when did it start? Were Kelly and Danielle always insane? Or did the stress of being on a reality television show crack the nuts?

Down with conference calls

2010-07-08T07:27:00.000-05:00

Not sure if I've mentioned before, but I hate conference calls. Ninety-five percent of the time they are a complete waste of time, and even when useful information is shared, I'd still prefer an e-mail exchange because then you have a record of it. I specify useful information because I don't really care what the weather is like in New York today or what someone I've never met in person is doing this weekend.

The worst thing about conference calls is the beginning. I don't know if it's just my company, but every call I'm on starts with roll. I have to admit even when there are four people on a call I detest saying, "Hi it's Amy" after a moment of pause in hopes that noone will talk over me. But on calls with more than 10 people I think roll should be outlawed. It takes forever and is absolute insanity. An experience I had last week:

Me: Hi this is Amy

Call leader: Great, hi Dave.

Me: Amy from Internet Marketing is here.

Leader: Hi Jennifer, and did someone else join?

Me: Amy? From Internet Marketing?

Leader: Hello Angela, how are you?

Amy: Click.

Well, I didn't really hang up, but I wanted to... "Leaders" who habitually squawk, "Hi who else joined?" should be barred from organizing calls - or fired. Ten minutes into the call we haven't gotten anywhere and I want to crawl under my cubicle and cry.

I'd really rather not talk on the phone ever because I sound like a 12-year-old, both in terms of voice and ability to put coherent thoughts together. I'd much rather take the time to write an e-mail and then proofread several times to decrease the chance of sounding like an idiot. Now why can't the business world adapt to my special needs? Is that too much to ask??

Last PC comic standing

2010-06-30T07:42:00.001-05:00

Just when I thought there were not enough hours in the day to squeeze another reality show into my life, I found Last Comic Standing, which I've never really gotten into, although it's apparently in its seventh season. I'm not going to complain here about the comedians, because I do think most of them (in the semi-finals) are funny. And really, I pretty much laugh at anything. But the main reason I watch reality shows is to be annoyed - so I'm going to complain about the judges.

This week a comic got criticized for an inappropriate joke about the homeless, but then another comic who made a joke about abused women was applauded for his "original" and "dark" set. I understand the importance of being politically correct, and I understand the humor in being politically incorrect - what bothers me is inconsistency. If one joke was actually funnier than the other I could be more understanding, but in my opinion they were both mediocre. Then again, maybe it's my fault for turning into a humorless feminist when a comic talks about his standup "bombing" at a women's shelter because "they wouldn't listen." (About 1:20 into clip below)

The other comic made fun of her "hip" office for including in an e-mail promoting a clothing drive that jeans shouldn't be torn or "outdated," picturing a homeless person turning up his nose at acid wash. If the homeless person had been a woman with a black eye, would that have made the joke more "cutting edge"?

Mental health break

2010-06-21T12:46:00.002-05:00

I just discovered a "Wellness Room" in my office. Like a port-a-potty, it said "vacant" on the door, so I opened it up and poked my head inside. It's a small room with a comfy armchair and small table, on top of which is a box of tissues... The lactation/mother's room is next door, so I'm pretty sure the Wellness Room is supposed to be used for less biological issues. What I'm not sure of is if this is an amazing - or extremely depressing revelation...

Guard and protect my gag reflex

2010-06-15T13:15:00.005-05:00

When Ali was named this season's Bachelorette, I thought she would be the most annoying part of the show. But boy, was I wrong. Last night Kasey took the show's vomit factor to a whole new level.

Did you know Kasey wants to "guard and protect" Ali's heart? I wasn't sure, until he said it about a HUNDRED TIMES last night. Oh, and he also wants someone, preferably Ali, to "guard and protect" his heart some day. Don't think he's sincere? Well, what if I told you he went and got a tattoo of a shielded heart on his wrist? Yes, that happened too... His heart is literally on his sleeve! And my regurgitated dinner is literally on my pajama pants.

This is the same guy who thinks he lives inside a musical, spontaneously bursting into a capella songs of his own creation, about which he comments after, "Yeah, that was pretty intense stuff." Ewwww... A boy in high school once played his guitar for me and then asked if I thought he was "too deep" for me. My television viewing choices aside, Kasey brings back unpleasant memories...

Anyway, this leads me to believe Kasey thinks his favorite line is pretty intense, incredibly deep stuff. And as a professional copyeditor, this makes me angry. Kasey, "guard" and "protect" are SYNONYMS. There is no need to use both words. Also, your silly catch phrase is not romantic. It's a cliche. And the more you say it the lamer it becomes.

Now, I'm all for keeping wackos on the show for entertainment value, but Kasey has crossed over to unbearable. I am curious to see Ali's reaction to his tattoo, which Frank (or a producer, or clever editing) prevented Kasey from revealing by butting in on their conversation. But once we all get to see her inevitable look of horror I strongly encourage Ali to cut Kasey quicker than a barber.

Class by the Countess

2010-06-01T12:48:00.004-05:00

There is so much to learn from Countess-turned-Bravo housewife-turned-aspiring songstress LuAnn! First of all, it turns out money CAN'T buy you class. Now, I already knew that - anyone who watches her fair share of reality shows knows that it's not your bank account, but how often you call yourself classy and call other people unclassy that makes you, in fact, classy. But did you know there are other ways to exude classiness? According to the Countess' enlightening video, additional tactics include:

Sing-talking R. Kelly style
Man-candy
Group naps
Corsets
~~Creepy~~ Classy laughing
Identity-disguising makeup

Summer trends that are already annoying me

2010-05-27T12:43:00.001-05:00

Jumpsuits

My favorite outfit in gradeschool was a blue and white striped romper -- until one recess when a helpful classmate informed me that I "looked like a baby." If I had to stop wearing these onesies in the fifth grade, why are they now being marketed in the same bucket as dresses to grown women??

Shorts

Although I've barely been out of the Midwest, I hear Americans are mocked all over the world for wearing these unflattering atrocities. People, there are enough reasons to hate us without throwing our sausage legs into the mix. (OK for the model above, maybe. For normal people, not.)

Little White Dress

Rationalizing with the bajillion weddings I'm going to this summer, I decided I need a new dress. But these ADORABLE cocktail dresses are turning my favorite pastime into torture. Do retailers WANT me to look like a crazy lady competing with the bride? I guarantee my drinking and dancing will draw enough questionable attention. I don't need help looking ridiculous.

Photos: Jumpsuit and shorts - EXPRESS; little white dress - AKIRA Chicago

Oversharers Anonymous

2010-05-13T08:02:00.002-05:00

I had never heard of "social shopping" until I read this New York Times blog, but apparently it's popular enough to be a competitive space. The site Blippy launched last fall, and Swipely recently joined the scene. Both sites are linked to users' credit cards for the purpose of publishing their purchases and allowing others to comment on them.

While I do get annoyed when certain family members rant about the ridiculousness of Facebook, I think this is where I draw the line. Why would anyone think this is a good idea? I live in constant fear of running into someone I know at CVS. Publicly share the contents of my doubled plastic bags alongside a thumbnail picture of myself? No thanks.

Oh yeah and the security issues... those are troubling as well.

License to birth

2010-05-10T08:05:00.002-05:00

I think a lot of people agree there should be some sort of licensing involved with having children. Like driving a car, it should probably involve a minimum age, some education and a test.

May I suggest, after finding out 2009's most popular baby names, that this be the first question on the written test: Do you plan to name your child after a Twilight character? If the answer is yes, you are automatically disqualified and not required to move on to the supervised diapering and burping portion of the examination. (You're supposed to become a fan of children's books after giving birth, not before.)

Then again, my doctor friend had a patient who wanted to name her newborn Chlamydia, because she thought it sounded pretty... when she was told she HAD IT. I suppose we have bigger things to worry about than the befuddling success of a poorly written YA series, in terms of the progression of humanity.

Dirty, dirty mouth

2010-05-04T12:07:00.001-05:00

I feel bad enough paying a stranger to clean my apartment, so even though I can't help worrying about what she might be doing in there, I try to push it to the back of my middle class guilt-ridden mind. This strategy was working pretty well for me - until last night.

While I'm sure there are endless opportunities for contamination, for some reason I fixate on my toothbrush. I can barely manage to wash my face without knocking one to three items into the sink/floor/toilet, so I can't imagine how our cleaning woman could manage to de-filth our teeny tiny bathroom without ever bumping a toothbrush or two off the sink into something disturbing.

So I usually hide my toothbrush in its traveling case thingy or start using a new one after the apartment is cleaned... usually, but not always. Because I am that lazy. But before the cleaning woman came yesterday morning I noticed my boyfriend's toothbrush in the bathroom garbage and decided to toss mine too, after asking him if we had replacements.

Then something odd happened. When I went to brush my teeth last night, the brushes were back. Hm, I thought. Maybe the replacements were the same colors, and my boyfriend kindly put mine in the holder for me (so romantic!). So I texted him asking him which was mine, to which he replied "either one." I thought this was strange... I figured he replaced them because he brushed his teeth before he went out. (This is where I become irrationally germaphobic for someone who can't even be bothered to clean her own apartment.)

So when I picked up one of the brushes I couldn't help sniffing it... and it smelled like stale toothpaste! Upon further inspection, I noticed some toothpaste residue as well as slight wear and tear. GASP! I dropped the toothbrush and texted my boyfriend again (he loves that), asking if he was SURE the toothbrushes were new because they didn't seem new... He texted back saying they were UNDER THE SINK. Ewwwwwwww.

I almost used a utensil to clean my mouth that had been SITTING IN BATHROOM WASTE. A vivid picture came to me of the cleaning woman finishing up the bathroom and suddenly noticing the empty holder, then the two toothbrushes in the garbage. Did she assume she knocked them into it and simply put them back where she thought they belonged? Or was it some kind of sick joke?? How many times has this happened before???

You'd think this would be enough reason for me to start cleaning the apartment myself, but that thought actually upsets me more than the dirty toothbrush.

How did I miss boobquake??

2010-04-27T08:05:00.001-05:00

It has come to my attention that yesterday was boobquake day. Ironically, it was the one day I was actually modestly dressed, in a button-down shirt and vest, of all things.

Apparently the boobquake rally stemmed from Blag Hag's reaction to a comment by Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi, a senior Iranian cleric:

"Many women who do not dress modestly ... lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which (consequently) increases earthquakes."

Huh? You're probably thinking something got lost in translation here... but the Associated Press corroborates the story.

So Jen McCreight of Blag Hag suggested immodest gals unite to test Sedighi's claim by sporting teeny tanks and plunging v-necks on April 26. What started as a joke went viral, attracting 14,000 attendees to the Facebook event and pushing "boobquake" to the top of Twitter's trending list.

Well, it's April 27... I think it's safe to say the earth survived. (You can find actual data here. Love it.)

Figures that I would miss the one occasion where I could proudly display my cleavage in the name of feminism and science. Guess I'll just have to continue to show it off in the old-fashioned name of vanity.

Double (D) Standard

2010-04-21T00:34:00.000-05:00

According to Brandweek.com, ABC (and Fox) had a problem with a new Lane Bryant commercial that promotes their lingerie line. Apparently when attached to "plus-sized" women, rather than surgically enhanced broomsticks, ample cleavage is too racy for primetime.

What I find most ridiculous about the story is that ABC refused to air the spot during DANCING WITH THE STARS. If you're not familiar with the show, let me tell you, it is positively skanktastic. And this season Pamela Anderson is taking sex on the dancefloor to a whole new level. She looks like she wants to jump her partner AT ALL TIMES. And I think I saw her humping Kate Gosselin at the results show last night.

Although I did hear on some entertainment TV show yesterday that the show producers are making the effort to convince Pamela to wear underwear during live performances.

Ew.

But if ABC's weak attempt to cool off Pamela is tempting you to forgive the double standard they inflicted on Lane Bryant, allow me to share some photos from their "Sexy Dance Moments" gallery:

Seriously ABC, after you manage to whore out sweet little rejected bachelorette Melissa, you can no longer play the morality card. And I don't think there's a protecting-viewers-from-what-women-actually-look-like card.

Engagement marketing?

2010-04-13T12:06:00.008-05:00

It started when I came back from a trip with my boyfriend to the Virgin Islands. With suggestive eyebrows working overtime, my most nosy co-worker asked me how it was, and if I had any news to share. Um, no...

Apparently he and my manager had a bet going on me coming back engaged. Engaged to be married, apparently. The thought had not occurred to me - I was just enjoying a lovely vacation. But then when my boyfriend told me he got similar questions at his work, I started to get agitated. Why weren't we engaged?? Wheels started spinning... on a crazy train headed toward my unsuspecting relationship.

Coincidentally, I did get a call from one of my college roommates while on the O'Hare runway with that very same news - she had just gotten engaged! When I was G-chatting with another roommate (who had been engaged for a few months) about my trip a couple days later, she politely asked how it was and then plunged right in: So, are you engaged too?? Um, no... What is wrong with you people? Must EVERYONE be engaged? And P.S. I would tell you, and probably not over G-chat.

THEN today I get this e-mail from a romantical fondue restaurant we went to a month or so ago:

WTF?? Well, maybe the message had something to do with me checking the "engagement" box as my reason for celebrating (and getting a coupon) when signing up for Geja's e-mail list. I thought it would be funny to mess with my boyfriend...

Dying Peasant

2010-04-05T22:20:00.000-05:00

Since I started working full time, I've been trying to make sense of the insanity I experience five days a week -- the rambling conference calls, Frankenstein collaborations, undermining BCCs, patronizing training requirements, and on and on, and on. What is the point of all the seemingly institutionalized spinning of wheels? Wouldn't we all be more productive if we were treated like self-sufficient adults? But then last week, with the help of some Netflixed Michael Moore, I think I figured it out.

It's not a joke. Corporations have a vested interest in driving us crazy; they are consciously trying to suck our souls dry of any and all will to live. Well, maybe not all corporations -- just the ones that have "Dead Peasants" insurance. According to Moore's Capitalism: A Love Story and several other sources, these corporate-owned life insurance policies were originally created to protect companies from the financial loss and disruption they might experience with the death of a top executive (of course then they were called "key man" or "key person" insurance). Then some evil suit figured out how to manipulate the practice to profit (tax free!) off of lower-level employees, you know -- "peasants." And apparently, young females are lower risk and therefore higher profit than other demographics -- when dead. Eep. I better watch my back.

Head-to-toe denim? Eep.

2010-03-17T08:32:00.000-05:00

First I noticed GAP's attempt to promote the dreaded denim suit (AKA Canadian Tuxedo) in a multi-page advertisement in Vanity Fair. Its "Fit Together" campaign claims "America's best fitting premium jeans have now met their match." Yes, these outfits match - in the way a brother and sister might match - but should certainly never hook up.

Then I got an e-mail from EXPRESS displaying this image:

What's next - mullets?? Is this an epidemic or only embraced by retail chains that overuse capital letters? I'm thoroughly disturbed, but like most hideous trends, I will probably give in right before it goes out of style.

Pretty Wild Indeed

2010-03-15T12:22:00.001-05:00

I'm embarrassed to admit I actually stayed up rather late last night watching the premier of E!'s latest head scratcher of a reality show about people they tell us are famous. Pretty Wild is pretty much a knockoff of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, featuring less family members and more skin (and you didn't think that was possible!). The most entertaining/disturbing (one in the same these days, aren't they?) part of the show, in my opinion, is the mother, who reminds me of someone...

Right down to the thong poking out of her velour jumpsuit, she's a "real-life" version of Amy Poehler's Mean Girls character! But even better... she's an ex Playboy model turned "Secret" minister who home schools her lingerie modeling, pole dancing daughters. Publishers take note! I foresee a parenting book in this woman's future.

Protesting Life

2010-03-10T14:18:00.007-06:00

There's a story about my father floating around my family, which may or may not be true. When I tell it, it goes something like this: The year is 1969. The place is Los Angeles. The image is my father, briefcase in hand, annoyance on face, pushing through some sort of hippie protest on his way to work. This story is supposed to illustrate apathy and general lameness.

Flash forward a bit to year 2010, place: Chicago. There appears to be a protest going on outside my office. I hear some commotion and join a co-worker at the window. We can see people marching with signs in the reflection of the building next door. I Google "chicago protest," but nothing promising comes up. My co-worker searches Twitter and finds a post about a "support rally" in Chicago, but we're not sure what they're supporting... Another co-worker says quietly, "I kind of feel like going down there, but [trails off]." I shrug and go back to my cubicle, insert headphones in ears.

Who says feminists have no sense of humor?

2010-03-01T10:12:00.007-06:00

At best, they're part of a backlash against the metrosexual male; at worst, they're part of the backlash against the empowered female. Either way, ad campaigns like Dockers' "Wear the Pants" and Burger King's "I Am Man" are undoubtedly irritating to those who have stepped out of the cave. But there is a silver lining - when they inspire hilarious backlashes of their own (forwardlash?). Check out the "Woman's Last Stand" response to Dodge's Superbowl commercial:

*Shout out to ad broad - where I discovered this video.

Restaurant Week, Shmestaurant Week

2010-02-24T22:01:00.005-06:00

It's Restaurant Week in Chicago. Every year I'm bombarded by advertisements - Daily Candy, Time Out, Metromix - and every year I get excited. And then pissed. Lies! It's all a bunch of lies! Especially this year because it's not even a week anymore - they've extended it to 10 days. Even the name of the event is a lie.

Supposedly more than 165 eateries are offering "discounted" three-course dinners and lunches. Lunches are a set price of $22; dinners are $32. But here's the thing: If you look at restaurants' regular menus and add up individual items on their prix fixe menus, the discount is negligible, if anything. One meal I looked up was actually a nickel more for Restaurant Week. B.S.

Now, I admit I haven't done the math for each option (and I'm not so good at math), but does this not sound like a rip off? I wonder if the waitstaffs at these restaurants are having a nice laugh back in the kitchen. I know I would be if I were still a server. Actually I'd probably be annoyed - as I was pretty much annoyed with any customer who asked about deals, required extra napkins, or expected me to serve them.

Anywho it appears the only way to squeeze a deal out of Restaurant Week is to go to the priciest of fancy pants restaurants participating (hint: probably not Connie's Pizza...) and to book your reservation months in advance. Lame.

Disenchanted by the whole thing but still susceptible to the restaurant itch, we did end up going to Dunlays last night (dinner out on a Tuesday!). Not only does Dunlays not participate in the Restaurant Week sham, but it's always yummy (cookie skillet!) and reasonably priced. And we used a Groupon, which are actually good deals. Watch out for the expiration dates though. Sigh... must there always be a catch?

Recumbent Nemesis

2010-02-17T21:28:00.004-06:00

I have a gym nemesis, and I believe her to be a resolver. She has voluminous blond hair, often wears sorority t-shirts (bid day!) and reads US Weekly. Worst of all, she thinks my beloved recumbent bike is her beloved recumbent bike. Last week she swiped it right from under my nose. I saw it in slow motion, her slipping into the seat a split second before my book touched the machine, my method of securing one of three coveted bikes while I wipe off my treadmill.

Straining to assess the bike situation behind me in the mirror in front of the only treadmill I could get today, a fuchsia tank caught my eye. Her. On an elliptical (of course). She would be on the one right in front of the recumbent bikes, I thought to myself. I faced a grave disadvantage, all the way across the gym with only half a bike visible in the corner of my mirror. Damn her! I couldn't stop staring as I contemplated my game plan, and I think I saw her staring back. Challenge accepted.

Toward the end of my run I started looking over my shoulder at the bikes. I still had five minutes left when I spied an open one, and a girl wiping down the one next to it! TWO open bikes on a weeknight?? Unheard of! I got so excited I jabbed at the stop button and almost biffed it as I jumped off the slowing conveyor belt.

It wasn't until I was pedaling that I looked over and noticed the bike next to me was still empty, and my nemesis was still working away on the elliptical... Well, now it appears she's just playing with my emotions.

Olympic Fever

2010-02-16T09:29:00.004-06:00

I don't know anything about men's figure skating, but I am now totally rooting for Evan Lysacek. I also want him to be my new BFF.

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Probably not my kind of town

2010-02-09T11:46:00.005-06:00

Some breaking news from the little office elevator TV I stare at to avoid stranger small talk: The city of Aspen has rolled out a new program to shed its unfriendly image. "Adopt a Tourist" matches visitors with locals who are willing to show them the town, and possibly their underpants.

Wonder if this is an attempt to undo the damage of VH1's "Secrets of Aspen"...

Regardless, I think it's safe to assume cast members won't be volunteering for the program... although it appears they're willing to whore themselves out for charity, "Adopt a Tourist" probably isn't quite glamorous enough.

Jake cuts girls quicker than barbers

2010-01-27T21:06:00.007-06:00

I honestly wasn't sure if I'd be able to watch this season of the Bachelor when I heard it was going to be Jake. I found his "nice guys finish last" persona on the Bachelorette somewhat fake and completely nauseating. But of course it just isn't Monday night if I don't puke a little in my mouth.

So I gave Jake a chance, and I have to say I kind of like him! First he cut crazy Michelle in mid conversation when she wouldn't shut up about going home (Earth to Michelle, playing hard to get does not work when you're competing with 40 other fake boobies.) Then he called out full-of-crap Elizabeth from Nebraska about playing games (I'm a virgin, no I'm a whore, no I'm a virgin! Elizabeth, what you are definitely NOT is Britney Spears, and even she couldn't keep that ridiculousness going.) And then this week Jake decided not to give either of his two-on-one dates roses! And then he didn't even give out all of his roses at the rose ceremony! (Ashleigh, you seem like a cool chick - you can't really be that into Jake... he's much better suited for someone like Tenley, no?) What's going to happen next week?? I can't wait!!

I was thinking about the Bachelor, as I often do, and it occurred to me: Even though Jake might seem brutal, isn't he doing everyone a favor by not leading girls on and spending more time with people he actually sees a future with, rather than filling his hot tub with as many skanks as possible? So being kind of mean actually makes him the ultimate nice guy. And people say reality TV is shallow...

Side note on title: If you're a phening Jersey Shore addict like myself and are wondering if Ronnie does indeed "cut girls quicker than barbers do," I did some digging for us. It appears he and Sammi are still on the outs, according to this blog and these TMZ pics of him creepin on another girl. I still think they'll make some adorably tan babies one day though.

Resolving to relinquish my treadmill

2010-01-05T20:25:00.005-06:00

When I walked into my packed gym at the rather early hour of 5:15 this evening, I was greeted by the smell of farts and resolutions... mmm... it must be January! It seems the wily resolvers have already learned to avoid peak hours. And I don’t think that’s even the most impressive part of their strategy, which appears to be twofold.

By suddenly plugging up their neighborhood exercise facilities, they're also softening up the regulars. So while resolvers are shedding pounds, gym members such as myself are waiting in lines when they’re normally switching cardio machines, fretting as their iPod batteries run out because they can’t get on any of the shmancy equipment with chargers, making peace with the fact that the Christmas cookie effect on their asses may in fact become a permanent reality. Wouldn’t surprise me if these resolvers are also buttering up their personal trainers with gifts of baked goods.

I knew this January was going to be bad when I went to the gym the Sunday after New Years and it was hard to find an open machine. During the Bears game! The man hogging my beloved recumbent bike was actually just sitting on it, watching TV. Maybe his resolution is to simply go to the gym, not actually use the equipment. Perhaps next year he’ll take the next step. Good for him.

So then on Monday when I had to stay late at work, I didn’t even bother going to the gym, assuming it would be too packed and exacerbate the effects of being caged in my cubicle past 5:00 sharp. Foiled by the resolvers again!

Well at this point I think I’ve just got to hand it to them – this ruthless New Year resolution strategy is pretty clever. So I look forward to waiting while you finish running, stretching or standing on your treadmills for the next three weeks, resolvers! And then I’ll see you again in 2011!

Note to Hewlett-Packard

2010-01-04T14:37:00.003-06:00

This fantastic message popped up on my laptop screen after I plugged in a loaner mouse this morning (forgot mine at home and apparently lack the grace required to effectively use the hyper-sensitive touch pad). As I've mentioned before, I find polysyllabic, convoluted communications very impressive, so I was pretty taken with this one. I do see one area that could be improved, however. See suggested edit below:

Time Management Skillz

2009-12-17T20:21:00.000-06:00

Having successfully survived a few years in cubeville, I feel I have some valuable knowledge to share. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by annoying requests, I suggest you print out the following and pin it to your faux wall.

Wait: Flag the e-mail and ignore it for at least an hour. This allows for the sender to change his/her mind or send updated drafts, request forms, etc. — and prevents you from doing needless work!

Stall: This tactic is especially helpful when dealing with crazy people or nonsensical projects. Send a quick e-mail back with a request of your own! Ask for background information, examples or “strategic guidance.” This will usually take the sender a while to gather. WARNING: This tactic may backfire, i.e. lead to the dreaded conference call.
Forget: Not that I ever forget about anything … but I understand some things inevitably slip through the cracks. If you find yourself scrolling through e-mails one day and notice a flagged request that is more than two weeks old, consider ignoring. Chances are the sender has forgotten about it too! (Otherwise he/she would be hounding you about it, no?) Rather than draw attention to your tardiness by following up, simply delete from your inbox and conscience.

*Key takeaway* Never act right away. This will only lead to more work, more requests, more suicidal thoughts.

Isn’t it wonderful how every problem can be solved with a simple PowerPoint graphic and a few bullet points? I think so too.

Unlaid Plans

2009-12-11T14:07:00.003-06:00

I figured out why it’s so irritating that (some) men have an aversion to planning. It’s not because it can be construed as inconsiderate, or because it might be a sign of commitment issues, or even because it makes dressing oneself appropriately more difficult … No, it’s because it stunts conversation.

Think about an average exchange between a couple who has been together for a while:

“Have I ever told you the story about that one party in college -”

“Yes.”

“Oh, but did I tell you the part where I fell -”

“Yes.”

“Oh, and then that other time I drank too much -”

“I was there.”

“Oh yeah ... So, um, what should we do for New Year’s?”

“I don’t know what’s going on yet. We’ll figure it out later.”

Silence.

There comes a time when there are no stories left to tell, and at that time, wouldn’t it be great if you could fill the void by making plans that might produce new stories? Apparently not.

Return of the puffy coat

2009-12-07T22:53:00.008-06:00

Remember when Holly Hunter was horrified to have to wear her mother's "hideously out-of-date coat" after she lost her "fashionable" one on her way Home for the Holidays?

Flash forward almost 15 years and I'm actually contemplating purchasing one of these puffers. When my boyfriend asked me last winter why so many girls were walking around in sleeping bags, I resisted the urge to make fun of the North Face brigade - for two very important reasons. Number one: They looked warm; and number two: They looked trendy.

I had a sinking feeling ... like tiny armpit purses ... and then giant backbreaking purses, I would probably cave to the swell of this trend like I do every other - when they become normalized, i.e. reasonably priced, i.e. not really that cool anymore. But then again, maybe if I'm willing to look a little clueless, or manage to pull off "retro," I could save some money AND be a trendsetter every decade or so.

(Quotes and photo courtesy of Cinematical.com.)

The Real Jailbirds of D.C.

2009-12-01T17:23:00.004-06:00

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Watching the White House crashers on the Today Show this morning gave me a little case of déjàvu. The defensive, social-climbing, inexplicably arrogant couple evoked the same variety of icks as Alex and Simon of the Real Housewives of New York City: Season 1 (they kinda won me over on Season 2, probably because Kelly soaked up the majority of my irrational hatred).

And what do you know! It turns out the crashers were up for Real Housewives of D.C. parts even before this latest humiliation. Although Bravo currently claims to be distancing itself, I’m sure they’ll get on the show, even if their confessionals have to be filmed behind bars.

Now if only they would outlaw banana slings – I'd argue European swimwear is also a threat to national security.

Photography note: If you clicked on that last link, feel free to blame/thank(?) Zip.

Top 14 Workplace Excuses: How to Win Sympathy and Entertain People

2009-11-16T23:26:00.006-06:00

A friend forwarded me this impressive list of excuses from a former manager of hers, taken verbatim from e-mails and compiled over a year-long period. I feel compelled to post as a nostalgic look back at economic times past, when cube dwellers spent more time concocting creatively insane ways to get out of work than ways to avoid being laid off - a time when the crazy that ferments between submitting TPS reports was a tad more entertaining than depressing.

14. I'm at home because it was supposed to thunder a lot. My poor dog is all doped up and stumbling around. And then my fish got a parasitic infection, so I've been trying to take care of him too.

13. I pinched a nerve in my neck on Saturday. It happens from time to time. Anyway, I had hoped I would improve enough to come in today, but I'm still in a lot of discomfort. It affects my shoulder, range of movement (I can't turn my head very far to the right) and my arm. I can't carry anything heavy or on my shoulders, so obviously a backpack is out.

12. I'm not feeling well at all -- I've come down with a head cold, in addition to the cough I've had, which seems to be getting worse. Yesterday, I was dismissed from jury duty because I became very nauseous and light-headed, nearly fainting in a hallway (had to be helped up by the sheriff.) So, I think I'll try to work from home the best I can.

11. I had what felt like a gallstone attack last night so I decided to work from home.

10. I need to get my wreck on wheels fixed (seems like there’s a hole in coolant line and now my battery won’t hold a charge, so I’ll need a new one) and my ex-husband is willing to help me out by giving me a jump so I can bring it in to his mechanic, but I’m at the mercy of his schedule because he’s not sure if he can come by today or tomorrow morning. I’ll need to work from home in order to coordinate this, but my hope is that it will be fixed before the end of the week.

9. Thanks to Ivan, I had some leaks both in the roof of my house (which is an ongoing problem I’m dealing with, since the condo assoc is supposed to be taking care of the repairs to the firewalls) and in the garage that caused some water damage. My ex-husband has attempted to fix the garage roof (to no avail – it didn’t hold up during the storms) and came by again yesterday afternoon to see what could be done. He told me last night that he’s sending someone he knows that does roofing over to look at it this afternoon, and asked that I be available because he’s not sure when he’ll be able to get here.

8. I’m going back to school this semester and Mondays are my very late nights, where I won’t get home until 9:30PM. I don’t have anyone to walk my dog for me, and that’s too long for her to wait, so I’ll be working from home on Mondays.

7. We had a huge oak tree come down on my street last night (unfortunately, right onto my neighbor’s 19th century home) and it took out the transformer with it. Power was just finally restored to my neighborhood. The rain and wind were very bad all night – it was impossible to get much sleep.

6. I’m not feeling all that great, and they always keep the office too cold (which is worse when you don’t feel well) so I’m going to be working from home today instead.

5. Earlier in the day, my friend Hormuz backed his car out of his spotin a wide arc, and never saw that I was nearby, pulling out of another spot. He collided into my car, resulting in some paint scrapes across the front right end of my car, and a huge dent and scratches along the driver’s side of his. Fortunately, both of our cars are old and dented already, so neither one of us care that much about the cosmetic damage.)

4. I was walking my dog late this afternoon, and she was attacked by my neighbor’s retriever, who was off the leash in his yard. There’s a ¾” gash in her lower eyelid (it was torn all the way through to the conjunctiva) and a puncture wound near the corner of that same eye. My neighbor and I brought her to the emergency animal clinic for treatment, and they said she needs surgery in order to repair the eyelid, so I have to bring her to my vet first thing in the morning. We’re not sure if her eyeball was scratched in the attack, which will need to be checked while she’s under anesthesia.

Right now she’s got ointment on the laceration and is wearing one of those big plastic cones on her head. I had already planned to work from home tomorrow because I have school in the evening. I don’t know how long her surgery will take or if they will let me bring her home tomorrow. Fortunately, my vet is only a couple of blocks away. But, it may mean I’ll be unavailable for some time tomorrow during the morning.

3. I think I have a blocked tear duct, which is why I wasn’t in the office today. It’s been like this since Saturday night. My eye tears constantly, which is not only annoying, but uncomfortable. The cold, dry air seems to make it worse. I may end up calling my doctor tomorrow if it doesn’t improve, so I may not be in the office. I’ll let you know.

2. Definitely not my morning – I had to dispose of a dead baby bird that I found on my patio too. And having had birds as pets for all my life, that’s not something I deal with very well. Back to work now.

1. I had tried unsuccessfully to find parking downtown and eventually gave up and headed back home.

Down with freecreditreport.com

2009-11-09T12:05:00.000-06:00

I don’t answer e-mails from Nigerian princes or click on flashing pop-ups telling me I’ve won a bunch of cash, so I CANNOT BELIEVE I fell for freecreditreport.com’s scam. I could have been interviewed for this New York Times article.

What’s in store for me down the line? Will I be one of those little old ladies on Dateline crying about how some alien on the Interwebs stole all my money?? Maybe not… there were a few extenuating factors at work:

Evil genius marketing: I think I just couldn’t get past the name of the site. After all, it has the word FREE in it. While most e-commerce sites are named after their products, freecreditreport.com was named after its gimmick, which is a “free” report looped in with a nine-day trial of the actual product, a rather pricey - and useless - credit monitoring service.

Irrational rage: The reason I was checking my credit in the first place was because I had convinced myself that evil, evil stalker cable company RCN, which had unleashed bill collectors on me for absolutely no reason other than their own stupidity and evilness, was out to ruin my credit and my life. Little did I know that my preoccupation with mitigating the evil of one company would leave me vulnerable to yet another!

Trial trickery: Although I have no memory of entering my credit card information or ignoring the Welcome e-mail (most likely due to rage-induced temporary insanity discussed above), I must have skimmed over some text describing the trial membership I unwittingly signed up for…. So I should have known better, BUT isn’t a free trial usually followed by the OPTION to extend? Since when does NO ACTION mean, “Yes, please charge my credit card for something I don’t need. Monthly.” Any halfway decent company would at least send you an e-mail alerting you that your trial period is over and that your credit card is going to be charged. Shady.

Of course that’s their intention — to confuse and take advantage of consumers.

From NY Times: “Evan Hendricks, who used to serve on the consumer advisory panel for Experian [credit bureau that owns the site] and is now the editor and publisher of Privacy Times, said the company knew the Web site’s name would sow confusion. ‘We had these roaring debates, saying you can’t call it freecreditreport.com because it’s not free,’ said Mr. Hendricks, who has also been an expert witness on behalf of consumers suing to correct errors in their reports and has testified against Experian. ‘We had put them on notice,’ he said. ‘But the money spoke louder.’”

FYI: To actually get a FREE credit report with no strings attached, go to www.annualcreditreport.com. Federal law guarantees access to a free report from each of the three reporting agencies every 12 months. Why are consumers STILL at the mercy of these deeply flawed and rather evil credit reports? That's a whole separate rant.

Feeling unsalty

2009-11-04T13:51:00.006-06:00

Newsflash soupmakers: Soup needs salt. Stop torturing America with your low-sodium impostors. First Trader Joe’s discontinued its delicious tomato & roasted red pepper soup in favor of a low-sodium version. (Me: “Oh, pooper. Is the low-sodium one good?” Trader Joe’s employee: “Um, I guess – it just needs salt.”) But that’s to be expected from the fickle store, whose inventory is constantly playing with my emotions. Plus, I only really opted for tomato & roasted red pepper when I was feeling fancy.

But the betrayal I experienced today when I dipped a freshly grilled cheese sandwich into America’s beloved Campbell’s tomato soup is UNFORGIVABLE. I knew something tasted fishy, er, unsalty, upon my first slurp and initially assumed my boyfriend accidentally picked up some crap low-sodium version of my staple sandwich companion at the grocery store. I was just about to G-chat him to let him know he ruined my ~~day~~ lunch when I decided to check the label before making accusations. What I found was even more disturbing than having to fish it out of the kitchen garbage.

The front of the can looks the same, but here’s what it says on the back: “The famous taste… with less salt! The soup with the famous taste you know and love is healthy, because Campbell adds a naturally flavorful sea salt that helps us use less salt.” Ah yes, I remember seeing commercials about sea salt and thinking it sounded like a good idea. I was wrong.

The tomato soup I knew and loved has been dead since August, according to this press release. The recipe that has “remained largely unchanged” since it was introduced in 1897 will never taste like childhood again. So thanks, Campbell, for making me healthier – and depressed.

Photo courtesy of PR Newswire

Chirp Lit

2009-11-01T22:48:00.002-06:00

I never really thought about my stance on variations of the word "said" until I stumbled across a (really old...) post on Nathan Bransford's blog - apparently it's something of a debate among real writers. The literary agent puts himself in "camp said," arguing that alternatives are actually more distracting than descriptive because "a reading brain doesn't really register the word 'said,' and readers only need to be reminded who's talking. It should be apparent from the dialogue and context whether someone is 'shouting' or 'whispering' or, yes, even 'enumerating,' and using 'said' keeps the reader's attention on the dialogue."

So thanks, Nathan, for alerting me to this subpar writing tactic. Now I can pinpoint what exactly irritates me about books like my latest questionable read: Celebutantes. I should have just stopped after reading the following on page one: "'Please, Paulie, just one of the four of us,' her blood red lips purr." Ick.

In addition to the use of various animal noises, Celebutantes may have even coined some new said alternatives, such as "trill" (used in conjunction with both humans and cell phones) and "sing-song."

Perhaps more distracting, however, were passages like this:

"We swerve past B.D. talking to Carolina and Reinaldo Herrera and Alfonso Cuaron by the mosaic tiled pool. As Carolina crouches down to admire B.D.'s beloved Jack Russell, I can't help but admire her electric blue croc mini-Kelly."

~My inner dialogue~

"What's going on here? Shoes, bags, celebrities? All of the above?" the reader exclaimed to herself, twirling her unstyled hair in befuddlement. "Am I that clueless?"

"There's nothing wrong with shopping at Target," the angel on her shoulder chirped. "It's like, responsible and stuff."

"But Forever 21? You're almost 27," hissed the devil on her other shoulder. "I'm a little embarrassed for you."

"Eh, who cares - just keep reading and get to the inevitable happy ending!" the reader concluded, with more enthusiasm than she'd like to admit.

Best Retailer Forever

2009-10-27T21:48:00.004-05:00

It's more than a month away from my birthday, but my good friends Express, Ann Taylor LOFT and DSW have already sent me gifts! Now, like any prudent birthday girl should, I'm going to rank them.

While LOFT and Express sent me $15 coupons, DSW's was only for $5... lame. However, upon further inspection, it appears I can't use my Express or LOFT coupons unless it's with their respective credit cards. Lamer. As they probably know, I only opened those cards to get the discount and try to never use them because I tend to forget they exist, and even if I know I haven't charged them in years they give me late-fee anxiety, but I'm too lazy to close them. But they also know I love birthday cards and can't resist coupons. Damn them for knowing me so well!

So to be fair, I decided to break this relative tie based on looks. Which means I'll have to give the award of best birthday present and therefore favorite friend to Express, whose gift came in a snazzy envelope (the others were post cards), and the slick note inside is silver, and I like shiny things. Also, it says "Rock Your Birthday In Style!". I'm so glad my bestie is the coolest retailer on the block.

Fun with office post-its never stops

2009-10-26T11:15:00.003-05:00

Came back from vacation to find this gem in the coffee area:

I was getting so sick of "island time" and being told to relax - thanks, passive aggressive co-worker! It's great to be home.

Put the wow in pow wow!

2009-10-12T10:10:00.010-05:00

I'm not going to complain about the ridiculousness of women's Halloween costumes; it seems to be something everyone has accepted as a fact of Fall. My boyfriend's friend summed it up quite nicely yesterday at the end of a group rant about sexy firefighters and slutty panda bears. "But I fall for it every year," he said. And there you have it.

No, this post is not a rant. I'd simply like to share some stellar copywriting a co-worker pointed out to me on www.spirithalloweeen.com, the most entertaining e-commerce site I've come across, um, ever. Offensive on many levels (and you thought Chief Wahoo was inappropriate), it's like a pun-laden train wreck you can't look away from. I mean, Pocahottie? Brilliant, just brilliant.

"The work is done and it's time to play cowboys and Indians, only this time the Indian picks the cowboys she wants. Put the wow in pow wow and practice some native American rituals in this sexy Pocahottie costume. Is that an ear of corn in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

"Time to get off the reservation and break away from the tribe in this sexy Dream Catcher costume. He'll want to take you right back to the teepee but you'll want to party and more, and why not? Put the wow in pow wow and go native in this unique costume that shows off your natural beauty."

Did I mention I can't look away?

Okay, this just got depressing...

Facebook working on public-service redesign?

2009-10-07T13:10:00.012-05:00

According to a recent Mashable post, Facebook is testing "yet another" redesign, part of which is a downgrade of the status update box, where users can enthusiastically misspell breaking personal news like what they're microwaving for dinner.

"The screenshots clearly depict a user homepage where the Facebook Publisher, the status update box that currently resides at the top of your home page, is surprisingly absent. It’s where you can share text, photos, videos, URLs and the like on Facebook. But in a rather strange move, it appears as if the Publisher has been minimized and pushed to the side of a page, as a less intrusive button."

Screenie (Courtesy of Mashable via the Next Web):

In addition to being minimized, Facebook Publisher also appears to be morphed into a simple "update status" button, rather than the call-to-action teaser on the current homepage:

I wonder if Facebook is making an effort to discourage the plethora of inane posts such as "Owww! My nose hurtssssssss!" (featured above... inside joke, i hope?).

If so, I think Yammer should follow suit and stop sending me automated e-mails like this one:

Ideas for posting?? Stop encouraging the madness, Yammer!!!

And as for Twitter, I hope it follows suit and .... disappears.

Eavesdropping

2009-10-02T08:05:00.003-05:00

While waiting for the elevator after work last night, I overheard a conversation:

Employee 1: "Are you heading to that happy hour?"

Employee 2: [sheepish] "No..."

Employee 1: [mocking] "Oh I see - you're just leaving work early then?"

Employee 2: [sheepish and defensive] "Well, my roommate's having this dinner party thing for his girlfriend's birthday, and I kinda have to go..."

Employee 1: "A party on a Thursday!? That's kinda weird... Where's it at?"

I found this exchange obnoxious for a number of reasons:

It was FIVE FORTY FIVE. How is that considered an early time to leave work? Nerds.
Even if it was "early," a benefit of working at my company is FLEXIBLE schedules, yet people still insist on laying on guilt trips when you come in "late" or leave "early," or work from home, or take a freaking lunch break. Mofos.
It's called Thirsty Thursday for a reason... Weirdo.
Why wasn't I invited invited to this happy hour? I'm a lot of fun, dammit.

Judging in transit

2009-09-29T09:52:00.006-05:00

I’ve noticed a new trend on the train lately – dudes with old books. I can’t decide if I find them endearing or pretentious… I think I’m leaning toward the former, probably only because I notice these readers during rush hours and therefore assume they’re bored corporate monkeys like myself, rather than scornful hipsters, who I (again) assume wake up around noon and have no reason to travel to the Loop.

But as I was contemplating this while standing behind one of these dudes on the brown line this morning, I noticed what looked like a hand-made bookmark peaking out of his yellowed paperback. It read, “No one knows me.” It looked like it might be the title of a poem…

Hm… Or maybe used books are just another sign of “these uncertain economic times.”

Probably a better question on the train car this morning was what that crazy lady was doing taking pictures of random strangers with her phone… and then she pulled a shiny new copy of Celebutantes out of her giant purse. Who would spend money on that? What a tool.

Self promotion lessons from my two-year-old niece

2009-09-27T21:34:00.003-05:00

When my niece was born I envisioned myself teaching her a few things – key elements to memorize on your fake ID, the difference between affect and effect – things like that. But during a visit last weekend, I realized the opposite may be true. I think there are a few things I can learn from her – the value and execution of self promotion, for instance.

Lesson #1: Enthusiasm

Even when engaging in the simplest of activities, do so with unbridled enthusiasm. It will spread. My niece is so thrilled with herself while demonstrating talents such as running, jumping and making monkey noises that she convinces everyone around her that they are signs of pure genius. Mile-wide smiles and giggling are infectious. I often find myself exclaiming to those around me, "Is she clapping to the music?? Ohmygosh do you see that?? AMAZING." And it is.

Lesson #2: Vocalization

Don't do any favors without making sure everyone around you knows about it. When my niece isn't in the mood to be social, she ignores friendly people and my sister's requests that she say hi. When she is in the mood, however, she says hi (with enthusiasm) and then announces "I said hi!" You might think it would dilute the message to make this announcement three or four times during the course of, say, a meal out, but it doesn't. The more you repeat your accomplishment, the more memorable it will become (fundamental rule of advertising).

Lesson #3: Looks

You may be thinking excessive self promotion can be annoying... and I agree with that. But not when you look like this:

I see great things in this little lady's future. And she does too.

Internet marketers continue to make me feel like a loser

2009-09-21T15:54:00.007-05:00

First my ~~only~~ Netflix friends sent me an e-mail letting me know it's okay to ask for more movies in case I happen to be suffering from lonely long weekends. Now they're helping me out by providing "Teen High School" movie suggestions on my home page, based on my preferences...

Is this suggestion really based on my preferences, or does Netflix maybe have customer surveillance of more than one Friday night involving sweatpants, thai takeout, peanut butter M&Ms and perhaps two or three films in which teenage angst is expressed via the language of dance?

Does it make it any better that the "Play instantly" movies are both indie? Probably not because that means they're still in my queue... and probably will continue to be pushed down by movies that end in choreographed prom scenes.

The most sophisticated, impressive words in the workplace

2009-09-17T12:01:00.004-05:00

I was utterly befuddled by this Yahoo! HotJobs article on "The Most Annoying, Overused Words in the Workplace" because I was under the impression that using the phrases listed as much as possible was the ticket to upper-middle management. In fact, despite the article's title, it does say toward the end that using these ~~annoying~~ sophisticated phrases during interviews can impress HR professionals, who use them all the time...

So here's another CSL cheat sheet for your educational enjoyment:

Leverage = Use
Reach out = E-mail
It is what it is = We are f-ed
Viral = Kids on the Interwebs like it
Game changer = Important
Disconnect = Wrong
Value-add =Value
Circle back = Call back
Interface = Connect
Cutting edge = Not outdated yet

One flew over the feminist's nest

2009-09-08T20:43:00.003-05:00

Holy F. Could One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest be any more sexist? Why do I keep reading these creepy "classics"?? Okay, I get it - the book was published in 1962, and it was sooo groundbreaking in other ways (read all about it in this glowing Wikipedia review). But couldn't it just have pointed out societal problems without blaming them all on the female gender?

Well, I guess that's an overstatement - author Ken Kesey doesn't even give women that much credit. The tyrannical Nurse Ratched is simply a "high-ranking official," a wily instrument of the all-powerful Combine. What better way to keep troublemakers in check than to control them with the lesser sex, to emasculate them?

A discussion of the nurse's "therapeutic" technique on her mental patients:

Harding: "Miss Ratched may be a strict middle-aged lady, but she's not some kind of giant monster of the poultry clan, bent on sadistically pecking out our eyes. You can't believe that of her, can you?"

McMurphy: "No, buddy, not that. She ain't peckin' at your eyes. That's not what she's peckin' at."

In case you can't stretch to gather what the story's hero is getting at, Kesey elaborates via his narrator, Chief Bromden: "Harding flinches, and I see his hands begin to creep out from between his knees like white spiders from between two moss-covered tree limbs, up the limbs toward the joining of the trunk."

Still not sure what's being alluded to here? In his signature style, Kesey hits you over the head.

Harding: "Not our eyes? ... Pray, then, where is Miss Ratched pecking, my friend?"

McMurphy: "At your balls, buddy, at your everlovin' balls."

Later, Harding explaining a lobotomy: "Yes; chopping away the brain. Frontal-lobe castration. I guess if she can't cut below the belt she'll do it above the eyes."

Wikipedia claimed the novel "subtly" critiques the emasculation of men in society. I just edited that word out - and added a missing comma.

Blame for Billy Bibbit's stutter? His overbearing mother. His death? The evil nurse, of course.

Blame for the demise of Chief Bromden's father and tribe? His white mother, who gave his father her name, instead of the other way around - and a female government worker, who reminds Bromden of Nurse Ratched as he remembers her visit from his childhood.

Blame for McMurphy's troublesome sexual appetite (charged with, but never convicted of statutory rape...)? A nine-year-old girl who "drug" him to bed - his first "little whore."

Racism permeates the novel as well, but it's the characters who exhibit the characteristic, an unfortunate way of life. Sexism, on the other hand, spews out of the author - as a warranted, even admirable way to live.

Thanks for trying to kill me, Mom

2009-08-31T08:17:00.000-05:00

Even though it hasn’t been well-received since, hm, college graduation, if ever, my mother still insists on loading me up with the questionably aged contents of the back of her freezer whenever I see her. While I greatly appreciated her braving the drive into the city yesterday, Cubs game be damned, I just couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm for the suspicious loaf she shoved my way as soon as I greeted her outside of my apartment. Oh, of course I’ll take this upstairs right away, before I even help you find parking. Would not want to forget this… banana bread? Oh, don’t be concerned if it seems “wet” when I unwrap the cellophane? “Because it was frozen”? Okay, thanks mom. Yummy.

Do I sound like an ungrateful brat? Probably… I put this woman through childbirth and 12-year-old cleavage, nine months of pregnancy and the threat of parties every time she went out of town, or to the grocery store. Perhaps it’s just part of my payback to take these frozen mysteries off of her hands, so she doesn’t have to feel guilty about throwing food away. It’s the least I can do, right?

Or maybe my suspicion is unwarranted. Maybe my lovely mother baked this banana bread especially for me, and put it in the freezer because I’m a horrible daughter and she had no clue when she’d see me next. So this morning I cut a piece of this latest gift for breakfast, but I couldn’t help bending down to inspect before consuming. And it’s a good thing I did because the loaf in question was chock full of walnuts, i.e. POISON.

Perhaps my mother forgot about the walnut salad that sent me to the emergency room last summer. And the mole sauce that swelled up half my face on a date last fall. Perhaps those conversations slipped her mind… But you’d think her memory would have been jogged when, an hour after sending me upstairs with the lethal loaf, I asked the waitress if the pesto that came on the chicken sandwich I ordered for lunch was made with walnuts. Or when the waitress came back from the kitchen and told me the pesto was safe but the sandwich came with a “walnut slaw” so she would make sure to order it without… you’d think that would have triggered some kind of alarm… or when I launched into a rant after the waitress left about how I can’t believe so many restaurants sneak this extremely common allergen into food and don’t warn you on the menu.

But no, I received no warning. So this confirms my suspicion that my mother doesn’t even know what contents lurk under the protective ice she insists on feeding me. Either that, or she’s trying to kill me.

The Ladies Room

2009-08-25T12:56:00.003-05:00

Door number 1: Woman applying lipstick in front of the mirror

Door number 2: Unflushed toilet

Door number 3: Broken lock

Leaning forward in a squat, one arm extended in hopes of thwarting a surprise visit or indecent exposure, I wonder if I’m at a bar or at work.

I seem to be sober, so I guess it’s the latter. Damn.

Turbo Spaz

2009-08-18T21:59:00.003-05:00

While I commend anyone who can feel the fun along with the burn, I think when you’re a fitness INSTRUCTOR, you should maybe care as much about your “students’” workout as your own. And lately, I’ve been a little disappointed with the classes at my YMCA.

Now, I realize the whole idea of cardio kickbox aerobics is a little ridiculous. [Insert name of professional kickboxer here] would probably be horrified to see a group of bouncing Midwestern gals jab-cross-jabbing in front of mirrored walls. But I personally feel that a normal cardio kickbox class releases the perfect combination of aggression and dance fever. I went to one of these classes at my gym in college, and I was delighted to see multiple variations on the fitness schedule when I started going to the Y by my new apartment.

Express Cardio Kickbox class – fabulous; what they call “Turbo Kick” – bad idea. The uber-enthusiasm of the instructors, their spastic combinations and my sporadic attendance create a perfect storm of awkwardness. Apparently it’s more “dancey” than regular cardio kickbox classes... the Y’s description ends with “some coordination is ‘helpful.’” Are those quotation marks mocking me?? I thought I was a coordinated person... back in the day I could do all kindsa crazy tricks on the balance beam (remember folks, that beam is just four inches wide!).

But in this arena I am very challenged... and the instructors do not help. They are having so much freaking fun that I don’t believe they give a hoot if we get their crazy “routines.” I use quotations because I don’t believe these instructors have prepared actual routines. I used to turn Tori Amos and Rusted Root up really loud and randomly stomp/dance around my mom's living room, becoming one with the music – what those instructors are doing up there reminds me of that. With more punching and kicking. Sometimes they yell out incoherent instructions a few regulars appear to understand.

To make matters worse, Google tells me “Turbo Kick” is apparently a whole fitness movement. Everyone sure does look like they’re having a good time... well, to anyone considering trying it out, I recommend practicing in the privacy of your own home first.

Double your fun, or halve it

2009-08-17T12:50:00.007-05:00

Apparently I need not apologize for the frat-tastic double TV situation I was talked into... a similar set-up was actually stylish enough to gain a win for team Tori, Dan and Antonio on last night's Design Star!

If this turns out to be the beginning of a new trend in heterohabitation, I'd like to document that the first romantic night of Real Housewives alongside muted sports occurred in my living room:

Class, class, class.

(First photo courtesy of HGTV.com)

Sheepish Bag Lady

2009-08-13T00:10:00.001-05:00

A RedEye column I read on the train this morning spoke to me, literally.

"Hey, you with that gigantic bag..."

Although I once wrote a high school English paper on what I called "Big Backpack People," full of rants about classmates who took up too much room in the hallways and could potentially maim an unsuspecting freshman with their abrupt and careless movements, I have, somehow, become one of those girls on the "L" - the ones with the giant bags. Although mine's not Coach, or any other designer brand. Does that make it better, or worse?

Columnist Jason Steele asks at one point, "Ladies: What is it with these bags you insist on carrying that are almost as big as you? What could possibly be in them that you absolutely must carry with you?"

Jason, I DON'T KNOW! There really isn't much in my giant bag, at least not today... often, I must admit, it's loaded with a virtual feast - banana, Coffee Mate, leftovers preserved not in manageable plastic or tupperware, but heavy-duty Pyrex, maybe grapes or an apple, a container or two of yogurt... and sometimes I waddle onto the Brown Line (not from the Armitage stop!) with said purse, as well as gym and laptop bags.

But today, let's see... I've got a book, planner, iPod, gum, phone, "business" cards, umbrella, chapstick, fork from yesterday's lunch (um, ew), keys (one for my apartment, security door, mailbox, mother's house, car I haven't driven since high school, car I haven't driven since college), wallet, busting at the seems... Okay, so maybe some of these items are unnecessary, but they're all relatively small. Not sure then why my purse is so large, and heavy, or why I feel compelled to carry it around. Maybe I'd feel naked without it, or free...

Steele writes, "These women usually have scowls on their faces as well, probably cranky from having to schlep around all this nonsense."

And he's right! Well, that and also because I'm annoyed with all the people who keep bumping into my bag.

Hillary's Hair, oh and some rape epidemic

2009-08-11T10:18:00.005-05:00

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

I first saw the story about Hillary Clinton "snapping" at a college student's question in Kinshasa, Congo on the Today Show, and was uber-annoyed with NBC News Chief Foreign Affairs Correspondent Andrea Mitchell's commentary, at one point saying, "She was exhausted and clearly, some would say, having a had hair day (chuckle)." She then goes on to mention that Clinton was supposed to be dealing with "really serious stuff" in Congo, such as "women who are being used as weapons of war," but had been fielding questions about her husband and his secret mission in North Korea. Thanks, Andrea, for shedding light on the important issues - after, of course, getting a crack in about the secretary of state's hairdo. Sigh.

I became even more annoyed, however, when I found the story on MSNBC's Web site. Here's the lead:

"Hillary Clinton has a message for the world: It's not all about Bill.

The secretary of state bristled Monday when — as she heard it — a Congolese university student asked what her husband thought about an international financial matter."

As she heard it?? Watch the video. Or scroll down - way down - to the 11th paragraph of the article, where the State Department's translation of the student's question is quoted:

"Thank you. Mrs. Clinton, we’ve all heard about the Chinese contracts in this country. The interference is from the World Bank against this contract. What does Mr. Clinton think through the mouth of Mrs. Clinton and what does Mr. Mutombo think on this situation? Thank you very much."

Later the student told Clinton he had meant to ask what President Obama thought, not President Clinton. So maybe the student misspoke, or maybe the translator screwed up, but one thing should be clear: Hillary may have lost her cool, but she did not misunderstand - she did not, as the MSNBC article implies, twist the question in her mind in some kind of "Marsha Marsha Marsha!" moment.

But of course using this blip as a lead-in to a saucy story about the Clintons' marital problems sells more ads than a story about real issues, like the one the Today Show somewhat alluded to. A (sincere) thanks to Jezebel.com, which lead me to this Washington Post article about how a U.S.-backed Congolese military operation meant to save women from abusive rebels has exacerbated Congo's rape epidemic:

"An already staggering epidemic of rape has become markedly worse since the January deployment of tens of thousands of poorly trained, poorly paid Congolese soldiers, with people in front-line villages such as this one saying the soldiers are not so much hunting rebels as hunting women."

Almost as important to cover as Hillary's ego, and hair. Almost.

The customer is always right

2009-08-07T11:30:00.001-05:00

All I wanted was to hear "Laid," by James. Does that make me so lame? Yes, I thought the song was by the Gin Blossoms, and I may have drunkenly tripped on my way up to make my request, but I don't think that means I deserve to be insulted. Just say you don't play that song. Don't roll your eyes and complain that you ALWAYS get that request and you are SO SICK of that song. You know why people ask you to play that song all the time? BECAUSE IT IS AWESOME.

So I got into a little tiff with the guitar player dude last night at the bar...

When I overheard him reject someone else's request after me, I decided I needed to say something: "Maybe you should play music people want to hear!" He responded by telling me maybe I should play the song if I want to hear it so badly, and he started to take off his stupid guitar. I happened to have polished off my own bottle of wine at dinner (I take BYOB dining seriously), so my brain failed to produce a comeback. "Uh, I don't know how to play music." That's what I said. And the jerkface responded, "That's what I thought." Jerk. Face.

I understand jerkface probably dreams of being a real musician, not one who plays covers for a half-empty bar every Thursday night. But you know what? I have dreams too. Do you think I want to write Google AdWords about new accounting standards? No, I do not. But that's what pays the bills. I don't roll my eyes at my manager and tell him I'm sooo over Sarbanes Oxley - I do what I'm asked to do. Then I can complain about it, and anything else I feel like, on my blog, if I'm so inclined. So, jerkface, sing what you like in the shower, play what you want on Guitar Hero, but when you're performing FOR an audience, try not to be such a d-bag.

10 places to avoid in Chicago (if you weren’t already…)

2009-07-30T12:38:00.003-05:00

Well, it’s official: On the lackluster “After the Final Rose” episode, our latest Bachelorette told Chris Harrison she will soon be invading my fair city. Luckily, in “10 things you don't know about Ed Swiderski of 'The Bachelorette,'” the Chicago Tribune has revealed some of her fiance's favorite places – so if you’re afraid, like I am, that you might be rendered deaf and/or blind by running into Jillian’s incessant squealing and/or Ed’s shorty-shorts, I suggest you avoid the following:

Sushi Samba
Blue Frog
Air and Water Show
Green Door
Innjoy
Cubs games
Lake Shore Drive
Michigan Avenue
Lincoln Park
River North

Guinness IS good for you!

2009-07-29T11:22:00.005-05:00

Because my boyfriend just sent me this link, I thought it was "news," but upon further investigation, it appears the BBC officially deemed Guinness "good for you" in 2003... nevertheless, the story inspired me to post.

According to the article, University of Wisconsin (naturally) researchers "tested the health-giving properties of stout against lager by giving it to ~~KK patrons~~ dogs who had narrowed arteries similar to those in heart disease," and found that a pint a day "may work as well as a low dose aspirin to prevent heart clots that raise the risk of heart attacks."

Wonderful news for Guinness drinkers! I'm afraid, though, that you'll still have to endure random comments at (American) bars (unless it's St. Patrick's Day), such as:

"Guinnes, ay?!" [accompanied by mouth-gaping confusion/surprise]
"Looks like you're chewing your drink tonight!"
"I've never seen a girl drink Guinness before!!"
"That just looks so HEAVY."

Although, instead of rolling your eyes, perhaps you can respond to these comments with a bit of Guinness trivia: Apparently the 1920s "Guinness is good for you" ad campaign "stemmed from market research - when people told the company that they felt good after their pint, the slogan was born."

Well, who can argue with that?

(Photo Source: news.bbc.co.uk)

Politically correct, or so politically incorrect?

2009-07-27T10:26:00.005-05:00

Now, I'm not saying I haven't been pushed to the edge of Monday-morning sanity upon realizing my nearly empty Coffee-Mate is missing - presumably tossed out during the Friday refrigerator clean-out, but I found this note a little obnoxious.

At first glance, "no basura" seemed to be a racist spin on the passive aggressive post-it - you know, the kind that's written in all caps or embellished with numerous exclamation points or underlining.

Or is it? Perhaps the note is on the other end of the PC spectrum - as it respects the fact that the U.S. does not have an official national language. Hm... think I'm going to stick with my initial assumption.

Fashion Victim

2009-07-22T08:14:00.006-05:00

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Lately the news has been warning us that "Skinny Jeans May be Dangerous to Your Health." According to this nbcchicago.com article, a condition called meralgia paresthetica, or "tingling thigh syndrome" can occur "when constant pressure...cuts off the lateral femoral cutaneous nerve, causing a numb, tingling or burning sensation along the thigh."

The article quotes a woman who noticed the odd sensation "when she wore a pair of super-tight skinny jeans to dinner with friends." And when she walked around, "She felt like she was almost 'floating,' because she couldn't feel her legs."

So... that's weird and all, but I think this woman's bigger problem, unless she's a runway model, is that she probably looked ridiculous. Isn't the real danger of these so-called skinny jeans that they actually make everyone look fat and awful?? Bring on the meralgia! Anything that will make this trend go away!

And according to the article, "tingling thigh syndrome" is exacerbated by high heels, the very accessory that can help these heinously unflattering jeans look halfway decent on a lucky few. (A chiropractic physician quoted in the article says, "The teetering shoes tilt the pelvis forward, increasing the pressure on the nerve.")

So what's the fashion-chasing, burger-eating Midwesterner to do? Step into a pair of dreaded ballet flats after pouring herself into her trendy jeans?

Please, can we stop the madness? Not to avoid the health risks, but to avoid the humiliation! Let's just stick with what we know best: relaxed fits, sweats, grease stains.

Don’t Fall in Love With Your First Draft

2009-07-13T13:18:00.003-05:00

Most of what I learned in school has turned out to be utterly useless in the “real world.” In fact, rather than equip me for professional success, much of my academic life actually handicapped me, puffing up my ego and helping me build the analytical skills I could then use to obsess over the gap between undergraduate expectations and corporate reality.

There was one piece of advice, though, that could have helped me adjust, had I ever taken it to heart: “Don’t fall in love with your first draft.” In my memory, these words appear on a classroom poster of a hamburger — I’m not sure why… I think maybe the buns were the introduction and conclusion surrounding the “meat” of the story… (?) Well anyway, I never really took this advice because I believed everything that flowed from my mechanical pencil was pure genius.

Lately I’ve come to realize, however, that it’s an occupational hazard to fall in love with my first draft. Because at the bottom of the totem pole, where my cubicle is located, your job is to write first drafts — which you then hand up to more important people to review, modify, tweak and toss around until it’s a Frankenstein everyone can take credit for, or on the flipside, deny having had much say in, if it’s a flop.

So I’ve decided “Don’t fall in love with your first draft” is my new mantra. (At my last job it was “Happiness is a fragile flower that must be cultivated to grow,” adopted from a trade magazine columnist I used to edit.) I’ll regard my drafts as I would my children, if I had any.

As a parent you try to lay a good foundation, teaching your kids right and wrong and all that, but one day they go out into the world and are influenced by all kinds of random people you have no control over — teachers, classmates, the tipsy trophy wife next door. Maybe you’re overprotective of your first born, but by the second or third, you don’t even bother to lock the liquor cabinet.

I think maybe the most valuable — and versatile — lesson in life is the one about letting go (helpful for parents, writers, crazy ex-girlfriends, Brett Favre, the list goes on...).

Best pharmaceutical commercial ever

2009-06-25T08:20:00.001-05:00

Who does depression hurt? Your toy-sized doppelganger.

Where does depression hurt? Her teeny tiny shoulders.

Has your toy-sized doppelganger been feeling blue? Do you have to wind her up more often than usual? Don’t worry – you can gaze lovingly into her black eyes once again. Ask Geppetto about Pristiq.

Depression hurts. Pristiq can help.

Side-effects may include dry-mouth, robotic walking and creepiness.

CSL Cheat Sheet: Conquering Corporate America, One Transitive Verb at a Time

2009-06-15T21:00:00.000-05:00

Being a CSL (Corporate as a Second Language) student is tricky because unlike learning a whole new language, becoming fluent in corporate speak requires one to re-learn a lot of known words that are used between cubicle walls in new and innovative ways. Nevertheless, as the progression of one's career is directly related to the speed with which she can saturate her vocabulary with these sophisticated words and phrases, it’s of the utmost importance to remain diligent. To that end, I’ve compiled explanations of some words that have perplexed me on the CSL learning curve.

Bandwidth
Traditional definition (noun): a range within a band of wavelengths, frequencies or energies.
Corporate definition (noun): ability to complete a task, based on actual or fabricated schedule allowance. Use: Unfortunately, I don’t have the bandwidth to do your work for you today.

Vet
Traditional definition (noun): veterinarian, i.e. a person qualified and authorized to practice veterinary medicine.
Corporate definition (transitive verb): to evaluate for possible approval or acceptance. Note: I first noticed repeated use of this word during the 2008 election season; then it started popping up on conference calls. Key takeaway: When looking for new words to impress, start with the Obama Administration.

Craft
Traditional definition (noun): fun project your mom planned for birthday parties.
Corporate definition (transitive verb): to make or produce with care, skill or ingenuity. Note: This is a handy euphemism for “write” or “copy and paste.”

Carve (transitive verb)
Traditional use: I have to carve the turkey.
Corporate use: Let me know if you lack the bandwidth to craft these communications, for then I shall have to carve out some time to vet other possible resources. Note: Resources = humans that are not as important as you, i.e. CSL beginners.

Books!

2009-06-10T12:38:00.006-05:00

I've noticed a lot of copies of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society on the CTA, so I was pumped when a co-worker said she could lend it to me. I became skeptical when I started reading, however. I read the first few letters and quickly flipped forward, looking for when the real story would start. Obviously I quickly realized the entire book comprises a series of correspondence between characters. Ugh. I like my books in standard form. Any deviation can cause extreme irritation. The comic strips preceding each chapter of The Tenth Circle, for example, did not sit well with this reader.

It didn't take long, however, for Juliet Ashton to win me over. On page 12 she writes, "I much prefer whining to counting my blessings." Finally a main character I can relate to! A nice change after weeks of trying to decide whether to be inspired or horrified by Mamah Borthwick's personal brand of feminism in Loving Frank.

And then Juliet's description of why she broke off her engagement sealed the deal:

"On the afternoon before our wedding, Rob was moving in the last of his clothes and belongings while I delivered my Izzy article to the Spectator. When I was through, I tore home, flew up the stairs, and threw open the door to find Rob sitting on a low stool in front of my bookcase, surrounded by cartons. He was sealing the last one up with gummed tape and string. There were eight boxes--eight boxes of my books bound up and ready for the basement ... I was too appalled to speak ... every shelf--where my books had stood--was filled with athletic trophies ... There were awards for every game that could possibly be played with a wooden object ... There were statues for everything a man could jump over, either by himself or on a horse... All I could do was scream, 'How dare you! What have you DONE?! Put my books back!' Well, that's how matters started ... He huffed and puffed and snorted--and left. And I unpacked my books."

Luckily when I moved last month, it was made clear ahead of time that my bookshelf was non-negotiable:

Hm... well, except for the addition of the Chicago Bears Checkers game...

Craig’s Just Not That Into You

2009-06-03T15:49:00.002-05:00

I’m trying to purchase a couple of Cubs tickets for friends that are coming to town the weekend after next, and it’s not going as well as I had hoped. When I first started cruising Craigslist last week, I was full of confidence, not even looking at posts asking for more than $100. I sent a breezy e-mail to a guy who had advertised six for $75 each, asking if he would sell two. When he didn’t respond, I wasn’t too concerned — plenty of fish in the sea.

But when I got back on the saddle today, my heart fell — decrease in posts, increase in prices. So not only did I contact someone selling tickets for more than $100, but my e-mail took on a different personality. “Are your tickets still for sale?” I asked, not wanting to be too presumptuous. Then after 10 minutes of checking my inbox, I began to fire off desperate e-mails to any applicable post I found.

I bristled when my boyfriend suggested offering $105 to someone asking for $110 per ticket. I’m in no position to bargain! Noone will even e-mail me back! My mood was souring; “tix” became “tickets” in my subject lines. I also started adding that I’d pay the asking price in case the seller was negotiating with others … or annoyed with people trying to bargain… I want them to like me best!

When I finally got a response, my spirits lifted … then quickly fell again. The message said the seller had already found a buyer, and they’re meeting tomorrow — but he’ll let me know if the deal falls through. So now I’m actually hoping for sloppy seconds.

Anti-Social Networking

2009-05-28T21:47:00.003-05:00

Apparently to succeed in this world, you have to “network.” While it seems my hope and dream that electronic communication will take over face-to-face awkwardness may one day come true, it’s not happening fast enough – and I suspect I will have given up on this whole “career” thing by the time it does.

I think networking is a talent – you either have it or you don’t – and like other talents such as singing and dancing, it just makes everyone uncomfortable if you attempt it without the required skillset. And while booze does initially help, there’s a fine line between loosening up and embarrassing yourself even more. This is why I avoid networking events. Instead, my preferred type of “professional development” is education-focused. Because I miss school.

So yesterday I attended one of these “educational” events and strategically scheduled my day so as to avoid talking to strangers – arriving late, after coffee (code for sleepy, awkward conversations) and planning to escape before happy hour (see previous paragraph for reminder on why booze plus business cards spell trouble for the socially challenged).

Unfortunately, it didn’t take more than 10 minutes for my plan to begin unraveling. Upon entering the conference room, I was assaulted by a frightening sight: tables. Instead of civilized rows of chairs where people could sit and stare straight ahead, pretending their neighbors didn't exist, chairs formed circles around tables occupied by people chatting with eachother. Luckily my initial panic was alleviated when I spotted a couple rows for overflow loners at the back. But my calm was short-lived; my ears pricked when I heard “get to know eachother” come out of the keynote speaker's mouth. Oh god. The dreaded icebreaker.

Sure enough, at the end of his presentation, the speaker told us to go to a different table and shake a random hand. We were instructed to share our biggest professional challenge and something personal noone knows about us. Ummm - awkward, creepy, no. In an attempt to not look like a total weirdo, I turned to the fellow loner next to me and informed her that I didn't feel like walking over to a table. That's what I said. This is why I try to keep my mouth closed in front of strangers. Then we exchanged names, job titles, possibly swine flu. And then we never spoke to eachother again.

It's when I begin to feel the pseudo-walls of my cubicle closing in on me that I enroll in events like these, thinking I'd like to get out ... but I need to remember that even if it's not the focus, networking sneaks its way into every event. Better to stay at the office, behind a laptop, where I can type my words carefully, instead of standing by powerless as they tumble out of my mouth, snowballing into a giant mound of nonsense I can never take back. Yes, better to stay inside the cube, where it's safe.

What Would David Do?

2009-05-19T12:12:00.000-05:00

My name is Amy, and I’m a WE-Go-Bridal addict. Platinum Weddings, Bridezillas, Rich Bride Poor Bride — and especially My Fair Wedding — elicit that perfect mix of abhorrence and jealousy that every reality TV junky hates to love. And the Sunday afternoon marathons are an open bar of guilty pleasure.

In case you spend your Sundays productively and are unfamiliar with My Fair Wedding, I’ve found and embedded a montage for you to become acquainted:

According to wetv.com, each episode shows how “David Tutera (celebrity party planner) whisks into wedding chaos three weeks before a bride’s most important day of her life and quickly saves the day as he transforms the fate of the party from less than ordinary to beyond extraordinary.”

It wasn’t until I watched Jennifer’s episode yesterday (featured in the clip) that I realized how disturbing this show is, and perhaps that’s because Tutera himself says at the end that it was the biggest transformation he had ever achieved — not only of Jennifer’s wedding, but of her entire “persona.” While I usually laugh along with Tutera as he pokes fun at the brides’ plans to use balloons or fake flowers (in the way I used to laugh along with my older brother and sister when they made dirty jokes I didn’t understand), Jennifer’s cringe-inducing “etikwette” lesson crossed a line. Apparently in order to perfect the “most important day of her life,” Tutera had to change everything about Jennifer, from her hair and makeup to her smoking habits and table manners.

This kind of “transformation” takes wedding weight loss to a whole new level. I realize it’s become popular for brides to try to slim down, often in unhealthy ways, but as my sister asked the other day, why would you want to not look like yourself on your wedding day? And wouldn’t you just find the photos depressing after you gained the weight back?

And in the case of My Fair Wedding, these brides aren’t really achieving their own vision of perfection — they’re becoming David Tutera’s. Which brings me back to my epiphany: I’ve always been put off by traditional weddings because, even when the bride and groom aren't religious, ceremonies seem more like sermons than celebrations of love and commitment. It’s all about Jesus, not about the couple. But as consumerism gains ground on religion as our collective consciousness (at least on television), we’ve found a new superstar: David Tutera. Your wedding won’t be an affair to remember unless Tutera’s version of your dream is achieved — and charged to someone’s credit card.

Cohabitation E-Cards!

2009-05-11T14:29:00.003-05:00

Corporate America attempts to tackle swine flu

2009-05-06T09:17:00.007-05:00

New how-to sign for us poor cubicle slobs in the office kitchen:

Kind of a key ingredient to the aforementioned process:

Empty since last week...

Berry Delicious Smoothie

2009-04-24T09:45:00.006-05:00

It's smoothie season! Last summer I got a little bored with my usual strawberry banana, and my boyfriend wasn't a fan of its temperature - but thanks to the collective suggestions of Katie and Cari, I've created an easier, tastier, more refreshing alternative (makes two):

1 ripe banana
6 oz frozen mixed berries (I used Dole's "Wildly Nutritious" blend of strawberries, blackberries, blueberries and raspberries
2 large spoonfulls nonfat vanilla yogurt
16 oz orange juice

I'm thinking vodka might be a good addition ... I'll let you know if that's a very good, or very bad idea.

Sad Earth Day

2009-04-22T17:20:00.002-05:00

A co-worker of mine came into the office today a bit flustered because he'd seen some commotion at the Metra station around a flower shop. He immediately assumed he'd missed some kind of Hallmark holiday and was afraid he might be in the doghouse tonight. We quickly assured him though that we doubted his wife was expecting a gift for Earth Day.

But how strange... Could it be that people were buying flowers for Earth Day? What a ridiculous thing to do, right, because the flower industry is a serious environmental offender, what with all the pesticides and overseas shipping, not to mention the terrible working conditions...

But don't worry - I figured out what the flowers were for later at lunch when someone mentioned it's also Administrative Professionals' Day. That makes way more sense.

Stranger Danger

2009-04-17T13:00:00.002-05:00

Like Mace, sometimes the armor you use to protect yourself from strangers (headphones, books, newspapers, etc.) is used against you. Instead of indicating that you want to be left alone, “friendly” people see this armor as a conversation starter. I don’t understand these people, and they can really put a damper on my commute.

This morning I quickly opened the book I’m currently obsessed with, American Wife, after I snagged myself a seat on the bus. Although it’s a work of fiction loosely based on Laura Bush, I believe the fellow next to me perceived it as an instruction manual I carry around on my quest for a CTA-riding husband. I hadn’t even gotten through a sentence when he started the dreaded awkward conversation with, “Is that a book about being an American wife?” Oy.

So I briefly told him what the book is about and turned back to the page. One sentence later: “So that’s probably like more of a chick book, right?” At this point I’m getting pretty annoyed. I really am obsessed with this book – stayed up way past my bedtime Wednesday night reading it – and my commute’s not that long, and I like to spend it READING. Also, I was hungover from Thursday night. But still, I smiled when I responded with a nod. Why, why, why? I have no idea.

So he proceeds to tell me what kinds of books he likes and that he’d like to be in a book club but they seem like a girl thing … and asks me what I do and then I ask him what he does (why, why, why – I guess because sometimes I act human and I felt obligated. Sigh.) … and we talk about layoffs and I keep trying to go back to my book but he keeps on talking … and then he brings up his brother who works at Google … and this I find interesting so I ask more questions. Damn it.

And here’s where it gets real awkward. He says he’s getting off at the next stop and asks if I have a card. I tell him I don’t have any on me – oh well. But no that can’t be the end of it. He then asks if he can write down my e-mail address. Usually I would just give it but for some reason – I think because I was really pretty miffed; this book is like crack – I said no. But he did seem like a nice guy and who can really blame him for putting himself out there – I know that takes a lot of courage, especially stone sober at nine in the morning. So I added that I have a boyfriend and I just didn’t want to send mixed signals, something like that … at this point I was suffering from full-blown diarrhea of the mouth.

Then we sat in a painful silence for what was probably about three seconds but felt like a week and a half, during which I obsessed over what I had said and wondered if he had really just been being friendly, and was now thinking he couldn’t believe what a giant ego this girl in an Old Navy jean jacket had – that he couldn’t believe I had just assumed he was interested in dating me.

But then he kindly broke the silence by asking if I by any chance had a twin who was single. So I guess my assumption was correct… This person didn’t just want to be my friend. So then what’s the point of it all??? Is anyone of the opposite sex really just being “friendly”? Are you supposed to just ignore them right off the bat if you’re not single or interested? Ugh … I just wanted to read my book.

SSB

2009-04-13T22:03:00.003-05:00

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about SSB (secret single behavior), coined, I believe, by Sex and the City, episode 13, season four. When Aidan moves in with Carrie, she complains to her friends that she can no longer engage in SSB—which for her, is standing in her kitchen and eating a stack of saltines and jelly while reading fashion magazines. Charlotte empathizes and reveals that her SSB, before Trey, was studying her pores for an hour every night. Miranda’s is conditioning her hands in Vaseline while watching infomercials. Samantha of course has no SSB because she has no shame, which isn’t such a bad thing.

So I’ve been thinking about my SSB (unfortunately more disturbing than the SATC girls’) because after living alone for two years, I’ll soon be cohabitating in a new apartment with my guy. (Yay!) Some of my SSBs, like eating an entire tub of Merkts sharp cheddar while watching episode upon episode of The Hills, I’m sort of looking forward to having a reason to kick. But others... I’m afraid I won’t be able to suppress.

Which got me wondering: What if bringing our SSB out of the closet is just the next step in the relationship spectrum, phase two of the big reveal? Phase one, I believe, is unleashing the crazy. In the beginning it’s relatively easy to act out near-perfection—but as lunch becomes brunch and dates turn into weekends, it becomes virtually impossible to keep unruly emotions in check, especially when alcohol is involved. But if the other is in fact significant, they actually find your “quirkiness” rather adorable—and any insanity that ensues after a fifth glass of wine mostly bearable, at least forgivable.

So then after the crazy comes the weird, phase two—which is where SSB comes in. While the former reveals your emotional issues, the latter brings your habitual oddities to light. That would mean you don’t have to give up your SSB completely—only in the sense that it can’t really be a secret anymore. That’s probably the symbolism of the end of the episode, when Carrie opens the curtains she had closed between her and Aidan, after he agrees to be quiet and let her be weird by herself on the other side. But then again, Carrie completely freaks out and breaks up with Aidan before the season’s even over, much to this dismay and tears of viewers across America.

I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see how well my theory pans out in real life... Because, as people keep reminding me, Carrie is a fictional character, and SATC is just a show. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing either.