Monday, October 31, 2005
GlenMary Glen Ross
Sometimes I feel like Shelly "The Machine" Levene. Well, maybe Gil would be more appropriate, considering my industry.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Big Crime in the Small City
Each Thursday, the Laurel Leader faithfully shows up on my stoop. It's the free local paper in my little burg, and I don't think it gets the respect it deserves. Let me explain:
For years I felt disconnected from Laurel. Even though we owned a house, shop locally, and belong to St. Mary of the Mills' parish, I didn't really feel enmeshed in the community. The reason for this kind of clicked during a visit to my in-laws in Ohio. I was reading The Plain Dealer, and found loads of news about Cleveland and the surrounding suburbs. I was engaged in the news because it was about the local community! Seems obvious, I know.
But Laurel lives on the fringes of Baltimore and Washington, DC. Consequently, neither markets claim it as one of their suburbs, and we enjoy little media coverage. The bit that does make the airwaves is usually about crime (Remember the attempted theft of an ATM a few months back? Yep, that was us.) Doesn't exactly help educate a citizen about her city, ya know?
Anyway, the only outlet for local info that I could find, from construction notices to high school football stats to audition postings at the Laurel Mill Playhouse, is the Laurel Leader. And now I'm a dedicated reader. Here's what's ironic, though: one of the sections that I skim without fail is the crime log. I don't know why; maybe it's 'cause I have a young child (no crime's been logged in our neck o' the woods, for what it's worth).
And here's something to compound the irony: the crime log actually made me laugh out loud! Here's the entry that got me:
Sept. 12: 1100 block of Montrose Ave. - Entry gained through a window. Forty DVDs, jewelry, Nikon camera and bank checks were taken. Before leaving, the robber also ate a pizza that was in the victim's refrigerator.
Is it terrible that someone's sanctity was violated like this? Absolutely. Is it funny that the thief was so confident in his getaway that he ate a pizza? Positively.
If I were the victim, I'm not sure if I'd view this as adding insult to injury, or if it would make me laugh too. Either way, I'll take this kind of crime over the goings-on of Baltimore and DC any day.
For years I felt disconnected from Laurel. Even though we owned a house, shop locally, and belong to St. Mary of the Mills' parish, I didn't really feel enmeshed in the community. The reason for this kind of clicked during a visit to my in-laws in Ohio. I was reading The Plain Dealer, and found loads of news about Cleveland and the surrounding suburbs. I was engaged in the news because it was about the local community! Seems obvious, I know.
But Laurel lives on the fringes of Baltimore and Washington, DC. Consequently, neither markets claim it as one of their suburbs, and we enjoy little media coverage. The bit that does make the airwaves is usually about crime (Remember the attempted theft of an ATM a few months back? Yep, that was us.) Doesn't exactly help educate a citizen about her city, ya know?
Anyway, the only outlet for local info that I could find, from construction notices to high school football stats to audition postings at the Laurel Mill Playhouse, is the Laurel Leader. And now I'm a dedicated reader. Here's what's ironic, though: one of the sections that I skim without fail is the crime log. I don't know why; maybe it's 'cause I have a young child (no crime's been logged in our neck o' the woods, for what it's worth).
And here's something to compound the irony: the crime log actually made me laugh out loud! Here's the entry that got me:
Sept. 12: 1100 block of Montrose Ave. - Entry gained through a window. Forty DVDs, jewelry, Nikon camera and bank checks were taken. Before leaving, the robber also ate a pizza that was in the victim's refrigerator.
Is it terrible that someone's sanctity was violated like this? Absolutely. Is it funny that the thief was so confident in his getaway that he ate a pizza? Positively.
If I were the victim, I'm not sure if I'd view this as adding insult to injury, or if it would make me laugh too. Either way, I'll take this kind of crime over the goings-on of Baltimore and DC any day.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
The Parents' "Maybe" Conversation
The Boy has been waking up in a screaming fury the past two nights for no discernible reason. At fifteen months old, he can't tell us what the problem is, so we have to go all Sherlock Holmes and see if we can figure it out. Problem is, in the middle of the night, our keen powers of observation are, well, not so keen. We're both fairly blind (shout out to the stigmatism crowd). And we neither of us wake up in a crisp state of coherence. At least we're not alone...I get the impression that most parents of young children are like this. So, I present to you the conversation that I believe every couple has during a child's nocturnal screamfest:
Parent 1: Just ignore him. We can't go in or he'll think we'll come in every time he squeaks.
Parent 2: I am ignoring it. (Places pillow over head. Takes pillow off head after a minute.) Is he still going?
Parent 1: Yeah; I think it's worse. (Sighs.) Do you think he's hungry?
Parent 2: No...he had a six ounce bottle before bed. And he had a good dinner before that.
Parent 1: Maybe he's going through a growth spurt and he's hungry again.
Parent 2: That doesn't sound like his hungry cry. It's definitely not that. I think.
Parent 1: What about his diaper? Do you think he's wet?
Parent 2: Maybe. But he's normally OK with a wet diaper. He's only upset if it overflows. And even then he doesn't care half the time. I don't know...maybe he's overtired.
Parent 1: How could he be overtired? He was asleep. Why would he wake up, then scream because he was tired?
Parent 2: How am I supposed to know? I'm just throwing out ideas. (Rolls over.) Do you think he has a cold?
Parent 1: He has been a little sniffly. But the temperature's changed this week, so maybe it's just a seasonal thing. Could be allergies.
Parent 2: Yeah, see, I thought the sniffles were because of teething. Maybe I should go give him some Tylenol. (Sits up and pulls back comforter.)
Parent 1: But if it's a cold and he has a fever, the Tylenol's just going to mask it. So maybe we should hold off on that.
Parent 2: (Sighs. Lays back down.) He's going to have laryngitis. He can't even talk, and he's going to have laryngitis.
Parent 1: Maybe he's too hot in the fuzzy sleeper. Or maybe when the heat kicked on, it woke him up and he's confused.
Parent 2: Maybe. (Sounds doubtful.) I don't know. I wish he could tell us what the problem was.
Parent 1: Yeah, but when he can talk, he'll call us by name and that'll be harder to ignore.
Parent 2: I suppose. Hey, do you think he lost his pacifier?
Parent 1: No, I heard in sucking it in between screaming fits.
And...scene. Truth is, this conversation would truly capture parental exasperation if it repeated itself at least six more times. If you're on tenterhooks about the Boy's status, I do believe he's teething. We dosed him with Tylenol, and after about twenty minutes of righteous indignation, he drifted off to a deep slumber.
I love Tylenol.
Parent 1: Just ignore him. We can't go in or he'll think we'll come in every time he squeaks.
Parent 2: I am ignoring it. (Places pillow over head. Takes pillow off head after a minute.) Is he still going?
Parent 1: Yeah; I think it's worse. (Sighs.) Do you think he's hungry?
Parent 2: No...he had a six ounce bottle before bed. And he had a good dinner before that.
Parent 1: Maybe he's going through a growth spurt and he's hungry again.
Parent 2: That doesn't sound like his hungry cry. It's definitely not that. I think.
Parent 1: What about his diaper? Do you think he's wet?
Parent 2: Maybe. But he's normally OK with a wet diaper. He's only upset if it overflows. And even then he doesn't care half the time. I don't know...maybe he's overtired.
Parent 1: How could he be overtired? He was asleep. Why would he wake up, then scream because he was tired?
Parent 2: How am I supposed to know? I'm just throwing out ideas. (Rolls over.) Do you think he has a cold?
Parent 1: He has been a little sniffly. But the temperature's changed this week, so maybe it's just a seasonal thing. Could be allergies.
Parent 2: Yeah, see, I thought the sniffles were because of teething. Maybe I should go give him some Tylenol. (Sits up and pulls back comforter.)
Parent 1: But if it's a cold and he has a fever, the Tylenol's just going to mask it. So maybe we should hold off on that.
Parent 2: (Sighs. Lays back down.) He's going to have laryngitis. He can't even talk, and he's going to have laryngitis.
Parent 1: Maybe he's too hot in the fuzzy sleeper. Or maybe when the heat kicked on, it woke him up and he's confused.
Parent 2: Maybe. (Sounds doubtful.) I don't know. I wish he could tell us what the problem was.
Parent 1: Yeah, but when he can talk, he'll call us by name and that'll be harder to ignore.
Parent 2: I suppose. Hey, do you think he lost his pacifier?
Parent 1: No, I heard in sucking it in between screaming fits.
And...scene. Truth is, this conversation would truly capture parental exasperation if it repeated itself at least six more times. If you're on tenterhooks about the Boy's status, I do believe he's teething. We dosed him with Tylenol, and after about twenty minutes of righteous indignation, he drifted off to a deep slumber.
I love Tylenol.
Monday, October 24, 2005
If Language Is Living, I Think It's Ill
Many things stick in my craw, but since I'm a passivist (get it?), I don't really get to unleash my frustrations on those who deserve it. My husband's heard my complaints about inconsequential things time and again, but I recognize you should start paying someone after the hundreth reiteration of a pet peeve.
My pettiest of peeves tend to fall into two different categories: litter and aggressive verbal blunders. The first one's pretty obvious. I mean, is it that hard to pitch your chip bag into the trash can that six feet away? I'm not an eco-warrior or anything like that; I just like things to be organized.
The verbal blunders are a little more complex. Spoonerisms and Malapropisms are endearing; coining phrases is necessary in the modern era; and puns, while annoying, are products of craft, not happenstance. All of those are acceptable ways of playing with the English language.
Here's what's not: jumbling together prefixes and suffixes until you get a word that shares a root with a real word, but is itself a work of fiction. This irks me 'cause people drop these word bombs in pursuit of intelligent conversation, yet they can't be bothered to crack a book to verify their word choice. In retrospect, it's kinda like verbal litter.
To wit:
1) Irregardless. Nitwits out there have decided that tacking "Ir-" to the front of "regardless" creates an even even fancier way of dismissing preceding ideas. A cocktail of "irrespective" and "regardless," which in turn makes me "irate."
2) Commentate. This bastardization of "comment" cements the notion that news magazine shows have captured the imaginations and the IQs of Americans. I'm certain that this is supposed to be the verb form of "commentator." And since that word is so prevalent in today's steady diet of not-really-news-so-lets-jazz-it-up-with-personal-opinions news coverage, people have gravitated toward this usage. [Editor's Note: OK, so I looked this up and it turns out there are no "nonstandard" notations in the definition...which makes it a real word. But I still don't understand why it would be used when "comment" means the same thing.]
3) Orientate. Again, we find ourselves using words that don't exist, thinking they are the roots of words quotidien tasks in which we are frequently mired. Let me break it down for you: in order to "orient" you to some new experience (college, company, health insurance, etc.), I will conduct an "orientation." At no point will I "orientate" you, 'cause frankly, that's not a real thing. [Editor's Note: See Editor's Note for "commentate."]
4) Supposably. I just shake my head when I hear this one. So, I have to assume that the speaker in this case has a reading disability and really, truly thinks he reads "supposably" when he's really seeing "supposedly." 'Cause if our friend has either a speech impediment or an hearing impairment, I have to think he would've read it somewhere, seen how it was supposed to be pronounced, and steered clear of the word knowing he couldn't pronounce it.
5) Deshell. Nope, sorry. The word is "shell." "Shell" is a wonderfully economical word because it has about 12 different meanings, one of which means to REMOVE a shell. I mean, you wouldn't say that you were going to "depeel" an orange, would you? Other verbs in this vein are: "bone," "skin," and "bark."
6) Attitudinal. The connotation ('cause Lord knows we're not getting any denotation) is that someone who is "attitudinal" is exhibiting a bad, aggressive, flippant, etc., attitude. In context, "Don't get attitudinal with me because I'm pointing out your grammatical errors."
7) Pleonasms. Which is a fancy way of saying redundancy...here are some examples: empty space; bald headed; complete monopoly. There are loads of these floating about in the verbal ether.
That's all I've got for now. As language (gasp!) evolves, more of these inventions will crop up, I'm sure. Here's what's scary: people will cite these words' existence in the dictionary as validation to use them. Please, I'm beggin' you, when you flip through Webster's masterwork to prove me wrong, note the "NONSTANDARD" notation next to the entry. Know what this means? It's not a real word!
Phew. I can go now and massage that throbbing forehead vein back down to a more manageable size.
[Added October 31, 2005]
8) Innappropriate Possesive's.
You know what, Roy Rogers? You don't have a "Fixin's Bar." Not unless someone named "Fixin" works for you. What you have is a "Fixins Bar." By tossing in an apostrophe to demystify your slang for "Fixings," then you've committed the greater sin of deliberate error. I don't know why "Fixin's" is so much hipper than "Fixings." Seriously, do you think you're going to attract more folks fromt he 18-24-year-old demographic by swapping out a perfectly nice "g" with a perfectly unnecessary " ' "?
My pettiest of peeves tend to fall into two different categories: litter and aggressive verbal blunders. The first one's pretty obvious. I mean, is it that hard to pitch your chip bag into the trash can that six feet away? I'm not an eco-warrior or anything like that; I just like things to be organized.
The verbal blunders are a little more complex. Spoonerisms and Malapropisms are endearing; coining phrases is necessary in the modern era; and puns, while annoying, are products of craft, not happenstance. All of those are acceptable ways of playing with the English language.
Here's what's not: jumbling together prefixes and suffixes until you get a word that shares a root with a real word, but is itself a work of fiction. This irks me 'cause people drop these word bombs in pursuit of intelligent conversation, yet they can't be bothered to crack a book to verify their word choice. In retrospect, it's kinda like verbal litter.
To wit:
1) Irregardless. Nitwits out there have decided that tacking "Ir-" to the front of "regardless" creates an even even fancier way of dismissing preceding ideas. A cocktail of "irrespective" and "regardless," which in turn makes me "irate."
2) Commentate. This bastardization of "comment" cements the notion that news magazine shows have captured the imaginations and the IQs of Americans. I'm certain that this is supposed to be the verb form of "commentator." And since that word is so prevalent in today's steady diet of not-really-news-so-lets-jazz-it-up-with-personal-opinions news coverage, people have gravitated toward this usage. [Editor's Note: OK, so I looked this up and it turns out there are no "nonstandard" notations in the definition...which makes it a real word. But I still don't understand why it would be used when "comment" means the same thing.]
3) Orientate. Again, we find ourselves using words that don't exist, thinking they are the roots of words quotidien tasks in which we are frequently mired. Let me break it down for you: in order to "orient" you to some new experience (college, company, health insurance, etc.), I will conduct an "orientation." At no point will I "orientate" you, 'cause frankly, that's not a real thing. [Editor's Note: See Editor's Note for "commentate."]
4) Supposably. I just shake my head when I hear this one. So, I have to assume that the speaker in this case has a reading disability and really, truly thinks he reads "supposably" when he's really seeing "supposedly." 'Cause if our friend has either a speech impediment or an hearing impairment, I have to think he would've read it somewhere, seen how it was supposed to be pronounced, and steered clear of the word knowing he couldn't pronounce it.
5) Deshell. Nope, sorry. The word is "shell." "Shell" is a wonderfully economical word because it has about 12 different meanings, one of which means to REMOVE a shell. I mean, you wouldn't say that you were going to "depeel" an orange, would you? Other verbs in this vein are: "bone," "skin," and "bark."
6) Attitudinal. The connotation ('cause Lord knows we're not getting any denotation) is that someone who is "attitudinal" is exhibiting a bad, aggressive, flippant, etc., attitude. In context, "Don't get attitudinal with me because I'm pointing out your grammatical errors."
7) Pleonasms. Which is a fancy way of saying redundancy...here are some examples: empty space; bald headed; complete monopoly. There are loads of these floating about in the verbal ether.
That's all I've got for now. As language (gasp!) evolves, more of these inventions will crop up, I'm sure. Here's what's scary: people will cite these words' existence in the dictionary as validation to use them. Please, I'm beggin' you, when you flip through Webster's masterwork to prove me wrong, note the "NONSTANDARD" notation next to the entry. Know what this means? It's not a real word!
Phew. I can go now and massage that throbbing forehead vein back down to a more manageable size.
[Added October 31, 2005]
8) Innappropriate Possesive's.
You know what, Roy Rogers? You don't have a "Fixin's Bar." Not unless someone named "Fixin" works for you. What you have is a "Fixins Bar." By tossing in an apostrophe to demystify your slang for "Fixings," then you've committed the greater sin of deliberate error. I don't know why "Fixin's" is so much hipper than "Fixings." Seriously, do you think you're going to attract more folks fromt he 18-24-year-old demographic by swapping out a perfectly nice "g" with a perfectly unnecessary " ' "?
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Ice Cream TV
I'm having one of those moments where I think I could be standing on the precipice of understanding something about myself. Then I think maybe it doesn't really mean anything at all. What is "it" you might ask? It is the Parents Television Council's Top 10 Best and Worst Shows for Family Viewing on Prime Time Broadcast Television for the 2005-2006 Season. Phew, that's a mouthful.
When I heard the PTC had released such a list, I giggled 'cause I was certain that I would probably be a fan of what they consider to be the Top 10 Worst Shows, and that I would consider the whole of the Top 10 Best Shows list to be sappy pap. Then I looked up the lists; the ones I regularly watch are in green:
BEST
1. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition ABC/8:00 Sunday - Returning show (3 seasons)
2. Three Wishes NBC/9:00 Friday (1st season)
3. American Idol Fox/Returning in spring '06 (4 seasons)
4. The Ghost Whisperer CBS/8:00 Friday (1st Season)
5. Everybody Hates Chris UPN/8:00 Thursday (1st Season)
6. Reba WB/9:00 Friday - Returning show (5 seasons)
7. Bernie Mac Fox/8:00 Friday - Returning show (5 seasons)
8. Dancing with the Stars ABC/Returning in spring ‘06 (1 season)
9. 7th Heaven WB/8:00 Monday - Returning show (10 seasons)
10. Not available.
Collective season total: 31
WORST
1. The War at Home Fox/8:30 Sunday (1st Season)
2. The Family Guy Fox/9:00 Sunday - Returning show (4 seasons)
3. American Dad Fox/9:30 Sunday - Returning show (1 season)
4. The O.C. Fox/8:00 Thursday - Returning show (3 seasons)
5. C.S.I. (Crime Scene Investigation) CBS/9:00 Thursday - Returning show (6 seasons)
6. Desperate Housewives ABC/9:00 Sunday - Returning show (2 seasons)
7. Two and a Half Men CBS/9:00 Monday - Returning show (seasons)
8. That ‘70s Show Fox/Returning in November ‘05 (8 seasons)
9. Arrested Development Fox/8:00 Monday - Returning show (3 seasons)
10. Cold Case CBS/8:00 Sunday - Returning show (3 seasons)
Collective season total: 33
Color me surprised. Here I thought I was a rebellious, trash TV watcher. I was sure I was going be be a dedicated viewer of all the 'Worst' shows. Let's not even discuss whether or not the shows have won Emmys. We're not talkin' about what the critics have to say -- we're just taking a look at these shows through the PTC's "family frinedly" lens. But I don't even have the facility to make fun of either of these lists because I don't watch enough of the shows.
What I can sincerely mock, though, is the PTCs choice to list the "returning" or inaugural status of the show. My take is that they are trying to shame network execs into giving family-friendly shows a shot at longevity. But when I looked up the lists on IMDB.com, I found that they collectively had the same seasonal duration average (3 seasons).
Know what's really funny about this? The PTC sees fit to list only nine shows in its "Best" category. It says that they simply can't find a tenth family friendly show. Yet on their "Best and Worst Shows of the Week" site, I count six prime time shows that weren't included in the annual ranking (Wife Swap, Nanny 911, So You Think You Can Dance?, R U the Girl?, Meet Mr. Mom, and Brat Camp). Weird that all of these are reality shows. Anyway, back to my point: clearly there are a lot of shows that make their weekly grade. I can't help but wonder if they declined to include a 10th show because it would appear that the shows one both lists are, oh, I don't know, on equal footing with respect to how long the American public, via Nielsen ratings, keeps them on the air.
Here's a basic fact: Television producers are in it to make money. If it's not about the money, then it's on PBS. To make money, the broadcast television companies charge for advertising during their programs. The more the American public want to watch a program, the more money the TV suits can charge advertisers for commercial air time. If the American public doesn't watch a program, ratings go down, the suits can't bank cash money for advertising, and so they pull it from the airwaves. 'Cause it's ALL ABOUT THE MONEY, which is determined by whether or not people WANT TO WATCH A SHOW.
So if there are only NINE programs on TV that are suitable for families, ipso facto, that's all the happy shiny family programming that the majority of the American people WANT to see. Maybe that's disappointing, but it's the truth.
Long story short: if the PTC wants more family friendly shows on television, then it needs to open up its resources to clever, talented writers who want to pen sitcoms, dramas, crime stories, etc., that fall under that umbrella. If it's good, people will watch it. The tack they've taken -- shaming executives into feeding the American people a steady diet of vegetable TV -- won't work. Americans have proven time and again that they want ice cream TV.
I'm not saying I want PAX 24/7. I'm just saying that the PTC is going after the wrong people.
When I heard the PTC had released such a list, I giggled 'cause I was certain that I would probably be a fan of what they consider to be the Top 10 Worst Shows, and that I would consider the whole of the Top 10 Best Shows list to be sappy pap. Then I looked up the lists; the ones I regularly watch are in green:
BEST
1. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition ABC/8:00 Sunday - Returning show (3 seasons)
2. Three Wishes NBC/9:00 Friday (1st season)
3. American Idol Fox/Returning in spring '06 (4 seasons)
4. The Ghost Whisperer CBS/8:00 Friday (1st Season)
5. Everybody Hates Chris UPN/8:00 Thursday (1st Season)
6. Reba WB/9:00 Friday - Returning show (5 seasons)
7. Bernie Mac Fox/8:00 Friday - Returning show (5 seasons)
8. Dancing with the Stars ABC/Returning in spring ‘06 (1 season)
9. 7th Heaven WB/8:00 Monday - Returning show (10 seasons)
10. Not available.
Collective season total: 31
WORST
1. The War at Home Fox/8:30 Sunday (1st Season)
2. The Family Guy Fox/9:00 Sunday - Returning show (4 seasons)
3. American Dad Fox/9:30 Sunday - Returning show (1 season)
4. The O.C. Fox/8:00 Thursday - Returning show (3 seasons)
5. C.S.I. (Crime Scene Investigation) CBS/9:00 Thursday - Returning show (6 seasons)
6. Desperate Housewives ABC/9:00 Sunday - Returning show (2 seasons)
7. Two and a Half Men CBS/9:00 Monday - Returning show (seasons)
8. That ‘70s Show Fox/Returning in November ‘05 (8 seasons)
9. Arrested Development Fox/8:00 Monday - Returning show (3 seasons)
10. Cold Case CBS/8:00 Sunday - Returning show (3 seasons)
Collective season total: 33
Color me surprised. Here I thought I was a rebellious, trash TV watcher. I was sure I was going be be a dedicated viewer of all the 'Worst' shows. Let's not even discuss whether or not the shows have won Emmys. We're not talkin' about what the critics have to say -- we're just taking a look at these shows through the PTC's "family frinedly" lens. But I don't even have the facility to make fun of either of these lists because I don't watch enough of the shows.
What I can sincerely mock, though, is the PTCs choice to list the "returning" or inaugural status of the show. My take is that they are trying to shame network execs into giving family-friendly shows a shot at longevity. But when I looked up the lists on IMDB.com, I found that they collectively had the same seasonal duration average (3 seasons).
Know what's really funny about this? The PTC sees fit to list only nine shows in its "Best" category. It says that they simply can't find a tenth family friendly show. Yet on their "Best and Worst Shows of the Week" site, I count six prime time shows that weren't included in the annual ranking (Wife Swap, Nanny 911, So You Think You Can Dance?, R U the Girl?, Meet Mr. Mom, and Brat Camp). Weird that all of these are reality shows. Anyway, back to my point: clearly there are a lot of shows that make their weekly grade. I can't help but wonder if they declined to include a 10th show because it would appear that the shows one both lists are, oh, I don't know, on equal footing with respect to how long the American public, via Nielsen ratings, keeps them on the air.
Here's a basic fact: Television producers are in it to make money. If it's not about the money, then it's on PBS. To make money, the broadcast television companies charge for advertising during their programs. The more the American public want to watch a program, the more money the TV suits can charge advertisers for commercial air time. If the American public doesn't watch a program, ratings go down, the suits can't bank cash money for advertising, and so they pull it from the airwaves. 'Cause it's ALL ABOUT THE MONEY, which is determined by whether or not people WANT TO WATCH A SHOW.
So if there are only NINE programs on TV that are suitable for families, ipso facto, that's all the happy shiny family programming that the majority of the American people WANT to see. Maybe that's disappointing, but it's the truth.
Long story short: if the PTC wants more family friendly shows on television, then it needs to open up its resources to clever, talented writers who want to pen sitcoms, dramas, crime stories, etc., that fall under that umbrella. If it's good, people will watch it. The tack they've taken -- shaming executives into feeding the American people a steady diet of vegetable TV -- won't work. Americans have proven time and again that they want ice cream TV.
I'm not saying I want PAX 24/7. I'm just saying that the PTC is going after the wrong people.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Right. Right. Right. Right.
There's a dark new trend on the horizon in talk radio. It's the dawn of "right." Not the Right, as in Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, or Bill Bennett. I'm talking about the prodigious use of the word "right" as a semantic crutch. I'm lookin' at you Elliot, and Chad Dukes, and you, random evening-but-not-late-night dude on WJFK.
Let me 'splain...
On multiple occasions on all of these shows, someone will call in to share a story. At brief pauses during the caller's ramblings, the above-mentioned talk-show hosts will punctuate the lull with "Right." I think they're doing this to indicate that they are engaged in the caller's tale, but it just sounds like it confuses the listener. It definitely gives me pause (har har) because I'm a Gen Xer, and whenever someone of my skeptical era hears "Right" in a conversation, it makes the speaker sound sarcastic and disinterested.
I'm not saying that it isn't appropriate to sound saracastic and disinterested on occasion. If people were calling me to dissect the latest NASCAR race, I might sound bored outta my skull too. All I'm saying is that the radio hosts should change it up a little since every other host in the same demographic is overusing it.
Let me 'splain...
On multiple occasions on all of these shows, someone will call in to share a story. At brief pauses during the caller's ramblings, the above-mentioned talk-show hosts will punctuate the lull with "Right." I think they're doing this to indicate that they are engaged in the caller's tale, but it just sounds like it confuses the listener. It definitely gives me pause (har har) because I'm a Gen Xer, and whenever someone of my skeptical era hears "Right" in a conversation, it makes the speaker sound sarcastic and disinterested.
I'm not saying that it isn't appropriate to sound saracastic and disinterested on occasion. If people were calling me to dissect the latest NASCAR race, I might sound bored outta my skull too. All I'm saying is that the radio hosts should change it up a little since every other host in the same demographic is overusing it.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Three Weeks Since My Last Post?!?
Looking around, it's a pretty common thing for bloggers to hem and haw about their lack of posting. I'm no exception. Hem haw, hem haw, hem haw.
Thing is, not much else has been going on in my life besides feeling my way through my new job. It's wonderful to feel challenged again. My greatest professional pleasure is applying some kind of order to swirling chaos. Okay, that's a little hyperbolic. It's not like I stepped into a tornado or anything. More like a tropical storm. Much as I enjoy it, I recognize that it's not terribly interesting to read about someone tapping out press releases or performing statistical research on web traffic.
Oooh, wait, here's something new: my thirty-year-old self seems to be falling apart. In the span of a week I've gotten an infected hangnail, a cracked tooth, a random twitchy muscle in my back, and some weird swelling in my right eyelid. The last one is especially concerning because I can't figure out what it is since it started yesterday afternoon. It's definitely not pinkeye, 'cause, well, my eye isn't pink and it isn't oozing any crusty goo. Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? And the fringy strip came loose and got stuck under your eyelid? That's what this feels like. Clearly, I've got ebola of the eyelid. I'm trying to get an appointment today so I can get some kind of prescription strength soother.
Phew. I thought this kind of stuff started happening during retirement, when I'd have time to run around to doctor's and pharamacies. Ah well. Maybe it's God's way of telling me to take it easy for a minute.
Thing is, not much else has been going on in my life besides feeling my way through my new job. It's wonderful to feel challenged again. My greatest professional pleasure is applying some kind of order to swirling chaos. Okay, that's a little hyperbolic. It's not like I stepped into a tornado or anything. More like a tropical storm. Much as I enjoy it, I recognize that it's not terribly interesting to read about someone tapping out press releases or performing statistical research on web traffic.
Oooh, wait, here's something new: my thirty-year-old self seems to be falling apart. In the span of a week I've gotten an infected hangnail, a cracked tooth, a random twitchy muscle in my back, and some weird swelling in my right eyelid. The last one is especially concerning because I can't figure out what it is since it started yesterday afternoon. It's definitely not pinkeye, 'cause, well, my eye isn't pink and it isn't oozing any crusty goo. Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? And the fringy strip came loose and got stuck under your eyelid? That's what this feels like. Clearly, I've got ebola of the eyelid. I'm trying to get an appointment today so I can get some kind of prescription strength soother.
Phew. I thought this kind of stuff started happening during retirement, when I'd have time to run around to doctor's and pharamacies. Ah well. Maybe it's God's way of telling me to take it easy for a minute.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Nerdiquette
Yesterday, I happily attended a nerd convention. Sidebar: if you're a nerd, don't go feeling all marginalized. I refer to nerds lovingly; I am one, I'm married to one, and I've more than likely produced one given the number of Spider-Man t-shirts the Boy owns.
Anyway, Monday was essentially an industry insider epilogue to the weekend's civilian main event. A key part of the retailer festivities on Sunday night was a free screening of Joss Whedon's 'Serenity.' I was a wee jealous that the retailers had seen it already, but I'm going to see a preview on September 27th, so it was no biggie.
Or so I thought...
At lunch time, I thought I'd mingle with the good people who buy our products and get a feel for how well they know my company. Looking around, I find a half empty table where at least one other woman is sitting, ask if it's OK to join the group, and plunk down my plate. Clearly, the woman (and the man sitting next to her) are a couple who owns a comic book store together, and we exchange pleasantries. A mealy looking dude was sitting to my left, but he didn't really contribute much to the conversation. He just worked his way through his stack of brownies as the the comic book couple and I chatted about toys and the industry.
Then, a Penn Jillette knock-off sat down next to Mealy Man, and within two sentences, ruined the movie for me. I won't do the same to you, gentle readers, because this is just about the worst crime you can commit in the pop culture universe. Okay, the devil's advocate would argue that he assumed that everyone in the room had seen the bleedin' movie. But how can you not wrap your porky brain around the possibility that a hardcore fan might have had to do something else BESIDES see the movie? How do you not, out of simple courtesy, ask if everyone at the table has seen a movie before you complete this sentence: "I can't believe they...!"
So, good friends, if you ever, ever, ever find yourself in this situation, DO NOT even speak the people who have gotten to see a movie you're really looking forward to. As soon as you've heard that they know some plot twist or major dramatic moment, just get up and leave because they won't be able to control themselves.
Anyway, Monday was essentially an industry insider epilogue to the weekend's civilian main event. A key part of the retailer festivities on Sunday night was a free screening of Joss Whedon's 'Serenity.' I was a wee jealous that the retailers had seen it already, but I'm going to see a preview on September 27th, so it was no biggie.
Or so I thought...
At lunch time, I thought I'd mingle with the good people who buy our products and get a feel for how well they know my company. Looking around, I find a half empty table where at least one other woman is sitting, ask if it's OK to join the group, and plunk down my plate. Clearly, the woman (and the man sitting next to her) are a couple who owns a comic book store together, and we exchange pleasantries. A mealy looking dude was sitting to my left, but he didn't really contribute much to the conversation. He just worked his way through his stack of brownies as the the comic book couple and I chatted about toys and the industry.
Then, a Penn Jillette knock-off sat down next to Mealy Man, and within two sentences, ruined the movie for me. I won't do the same to you, gentle readers, because this is just about the worst crime you can commit in the pop culture universe. Okay, the devil's advocate would argue that he assumed that everyone in the room had seen the bleedin' movie. But how can you not wrap your porky brain around the possibility that a hardcore fan might have had to do something else BESIDES see the movie? How do you not, out of simple courtesy, ask if everyone at the table has seen a movie before you complete this sentence: "I can't believe they...!"
So, good friends, if you ever, ever, ever find yourself in this situation, DO NOT even speak the people who have gotten to see a movie you're really looking forward to. As soon as you've heard that they know some plot twist or major dramatic moment, just get up and leave because they won't be able to control themselves.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Starting Fresh
Apologies to my tens of fans for the lapse in blogging; I started a new job on September 6th, and, well, it took me a week to get comfortable enough to snatch some office time to contribute to the Fifth Estate*.
For the past week I've been feeling like someone in the witness protection program. My routine is completely disassembled. Nobody knows me. I can't reveal myself -- my jokes, my faith, my history -- 'til I trust those around me with that information. Furtively, I peek around to see if its an opportune moment to check personal e-mail, or to cruise a website that's got zilch to do with my work for fear that people would learn more about me than I really want them to right now. Don't get me wrong -- I've got a titanium work ethic. Case in point: I had the ebola virus (or something equivalently virulent) last week, and I still came in to work because I thought it'd send a bad message to call out sick during my inaugural week.
I have no doubts that this job change will rock, and not just for the logistics of a shortened commute. The prime mover is my son, and being able to spend more time with him while he's smaller than me. Given that I'm about three apples high, I fully expect to exist in his shadow by the time he's ten.
A close second reason, though, is that my passions, shallow as they may be, are the life's blood of this company. Do you have any idea how amazing it is to work some place where your personal interests have professional value? I've never had that. I thought I did. I'd actually hoped I did, since the last place I worked was all kinds of noble in its endeavors. But I guess I need to embrace some facts about myself, like I'd rather read The Monitor in Entertainment Weekly than the crawl on CNN.
*I figure if journalists fancy their trade the 'Fourth Estate,' we humble common folk who self-publish our opinions can claim to be the Fifth Estate. Hey, anybody know what the First, Second, and Third Estates are?
For the past week I've been feeling like someone in the witness protection program. My routine is completely disassembled. Nobody knows me. I can't reveal myself -- my jokes, my faith, my history -- 'til I trust those around me with that information. Furtively, I peek around to see if its an opportune moment to check personal e-mail, or to cruise a website that's got zilch to do with my work for fear that people would learn more about me than I really want them to right now. Don't get me wrong -- I've got a titanium work ethic. Case in point: I had the ebola virus (or something equivalently virulent) last week, and I still came in to work because I thought it'd send a bad message to call out sick during my inaugural week.
I have no doubts that this job change will rock, and not just for the logistics of a shortened commute. The prime mover is my son, and being able to spend more time with him while he's smaller than me. Given that I'm about three apples high, I fully expect to exist in his shadow by the time he's ten.
A close second reason, though, is that my passions, shallow as they may be, are the life's blood of this company. Do you have any idea how amazing it is to work some place where your personal interests have professional value? I've never had that. I thought I did. I'd actually hoped I did, since the last place I worked was all kinds of noble in its endeavors. But I guess I need to embrace some facts about myself, like I'd rather read The Monitor in Entertainment Weekly than the crawl on CNN.
*I figure if journalists fancy their trade the 'Fourth Estate,' we humble common folk who self-publish our opinions can claim to be the Fifth Estate. Hey, anybody know what the First, Second, and Third Estates are?
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Litmus Test for Adulthood
Over the weekend I caught an ep of MTV's "Pimp My Ride." As I was watching the fellas at West Coast Customs work their mojo on a busted up Caddy, I had the following thoughts:
1) Big Ron won't have room for a spare tire, flares, or a tool kit in his trunk since its now home to two 15" flat panel monitors and a drum kit.
2) If Big Ron reports the upgrades to his insurance company, his premiums will fly sky-high.
3) There's no way Big Ron'll be able to afford to maintain/replace/fix anything on the Caddy.
4) WCC oughta install some kind of souped up anti-theft device like Lo-Jack 'cause Big Ron's ride is definitely a candidate for grand theft auto.
5) If he ever decides to sell the Caddy, it'll be a gigantic pain to strip out all the goodies.
When I saw Big Ron hooting for joy at the end of the episode, I shook my head a little at his innocence. Then I realized that not sharing in Big Ron's happiness planted me firmly on the side of adulthood, 'cause kids wouldn't have these thoughts. They'd just enjoy the ride.
Segway Nation
Segways have become a bit of a status symbol here in D.C. At least I have to assume it's a status symbol. I can't imagine any other way to explain why all those business dudes zipping along D.C.'s sidestreets, ties flapping happily in the wind, would look like they slept with hangers in their mouths. Personally, I've always thought the things looked goofy. Clearly I'm not the only one, or Segways wouldn't be a punchline on the 11-Emmys-nominated series Arrested Development.
In DuPont Circle this morning, there was a be-helmeted suit scooting by on a Segway. Wha-huh? Max, these things get up to 12.5 mph. Is this a velocity that requires a helmet? Or is it protection from ADD-drivers sharing the roadway? Officially, Segway promotes Segway safety, 'cause here's a sample pic of dome protection from their online buyer's guide:
What I really don't get about this one is that these two folks look kind of fit, and kind of casual. I'd thought that Segways were designed to help the busy commuting pedestrian get to the office lickety-split, or for rent-a-cops to bust disorderly mallrats in the blink of an eye. So what, pray tell, are healthy tourists doing on the things?
Anyway...
While I was poking around on Segway's website, I came across this. DC SegwayFest? An entire event dedicated to the celebration and reverence of the Segway? To quote the site, SegwayFest "offers in-depth workshops, educational seminars, "Ask the Experts" sessions, social gatherings, Segway HT skill competitions, special guest speakers, and more!"
Man, I would pay cash money to see the Segway HT skill competitions. Much like NASCAR fans, though, I think I'd mostly be going to see crashes.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Courtesy of "Best of Howard Stern"
So, this is a news flash from 1988, but did you know that Judy Tenuta and Emo Phillips were married for a little while? I wonder if they had kids...can you imagine what their merged gene pool would produce? The poor kid's voice would sound like a slip-slidey trombone punctuated by wet tuba blasts.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Happy New School Year
This morning, I happened upon a puddle of half-dried vomit in the stairwell of my parking garage.
The students are back. Huzzah.
The students are back. Huzzah.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Mr. Tow, that's My Name; that Name Again is Mr. Tow!
If my new job doesn't work out, I know what I want to be: a Vigilante Tow Truck Operator. Stuttering in on 16th Street this morning, I noticed that there were no fewer than four cars sucking up space on the southbound side of the road. I BURNED to see them towed, and would have liked nothing better than to hold up a winch He-Man style and transform me and my Ford Focus into Vigilante Tow Truck Operator and her trusty steed, Tow Truck. Then I could deliver commuting justice to these parking miscreants.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Roadside Attractions
As my job inside the Beltway is waning, I am beginning to wax nostalgic about my commute. Not to the extent that I'm reconsidering my choice, but I do recognize there are certain roadside mysteries that have plucked at my imagination. Here are a few of them:
1) The Leaf Man
On the stretch of Route 50 that morphs into New York Avenue, under the Brentwood Parkway overpass, you will find the leaf man. Much like the U.S. Postal Service, he's there through rain, sleet, and snow. He's a grizzled black man who stands next to the guardrail and fans a frond at passing traffic. I don't know where he gets his switches, because the leaves don't match any of the wild weedy flora and fauna growing around the overpass. The National Arboretum is a hop, skip and a jump away, so he may actually scale the fences there to snatch exotic samples of horticulture. I appreciate the effort he makes, so whenever I zoom into the District via this artery, I give him a little wave.
2) Mateless Shoes
Most of us have heard comedic riffs on the old "lone shoe on the side of the road" scenario during "sophisticated" open mic nights, but I still wonder how they get there. But the sheer number of them on DC's streets begs thoughtful discourse on the topic. Are they suicidal spouses of socks that have gone missing in the laundry? Or are there that many people who either (a) dangle their feet out of car windows, or (b) pack loose shoes in the back of pick-up trucks? Another possibility is that these shoes have the fallen from power lines on drug dealing corners...
3) Bumpers
Okay, so I get that if you notice one of your hubcaps has made a break for it in rush hour traffic, you're not necessarily going to stop to retrieve it. Hubcaps are emininently, cheaply, replaceable. But a bumper? Cruising in on 16th Street last week, there was a big old hunk of fiberglass bumper neatly placed on the median. Wha-huh? Isn't it going to save you a bucket of ducats if you have the bumper when you go to the body shop? Maybe the driver decided that the bumper isn't salvagable, and couldn't be bothered to pick up after herself. But that means that some Good Samaritan saw the risk to other drivers' cars and moved the debris out of the road. If you're willing to go to that extreme, though, why not put the bumper on the side of the road where it's unlikely to drift back into the roadway?
I'll add more as I think of them...
1) The Leaf Man
On the stretch of Route 50 that morphs into New York Avenue, under the Brentwood Parkway overpass, you will find the leaf man. Much like the U.S. Postal Service, he's there through rain, sleet, and snow. He's a grizzled black man who stands next to the guardrail and fans a frond at passing traffic. I don't know where he gets his switches, because the leaves don't match any of the wild weedy flora and fauna growing around the overpass. The National Arboretum is a hop, skip and a jump away, so he may actually scale the fences there to snatch exotic samples of horticulture. I appreciate the effort he makes, so whenever I zoom into the District via this artery, I give him a little wave.
2) Mateless Shoes
Most of us have heard comedic riffs on the old "lone shoe on the side of the road" scenario during "sophisticated" open mic nights, but I still wonder how they get there. But the sheer number of them on DC's streets begs thoughtful discourse on the topic. Are they suicidal spouses of socks that have gone missing in the laundry? Or are there that many people who either (a) dangle their feet out of car windows, or (b) pack loose shoes in the back of pick-up trucks? Another possibility is that these shoes have the fallen from power lines on drug dealing corners...
3) Bumpers
Okay, so I get that if you notice one of your hubcaps has made a break for it in rush hour traffic, you're not necessarily going to stop to retrieve it. Hubcaps are emininently, cheaply, replaceable. But a bumper? Cruising in on 16th Street last week, there was a big old hunk of fiberglass bumper neatly placed on the median. Wha-huh? Isn't it going to save you a bucket of ducats if you have the bumper when you go to the body shop? Maybe the driver decided that the bumper isn't salvagable, and couldn't be bothered to pick up after herself. But that means that some Good Samaritan saw the risk to other drivers' cars and moved the debris out of the road. If you're willing to go to that extreme, though, why not put the bumper on the side of the road where it's unlikely to drift back into the roadway?
I'll add more as I think of them...
Friday, August 19, 2005
Holy Toys, Batman!
Hee hee! I think I need the St. Jerome doll, 'cause he's a twofer -- he transforms into a lion when you flip him over.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
The Write Stuff (Good Grief, That's Cheesy)
So, it's one of my greatest fantasies to become a commercially published writer. I toss in the "commercial" qualifier 'cause I'm currently rockin' this blog, so I s'pose I can technically currently christen myself a writer. I dunno; since there's no remuneration for my efforts I hesitate to introduce myself as such. It's something I can almost taste, though...kinda like when you really, really want a beer. You can just feel the cool sting of the brew on your tongue, and your salivary glands kick into anticipatory action.
Man, that makes me sound like a lush.
Anyway, my writing has been (how to say this delicately?) ground to a halt by being a mother. It's tough to squeeze in the necessary think time between dinners, and bedtime routines, and sanitizing high chairs. Don't think you're reading bitterness between-the-lines or anything like that; parenting is what it is. Anyway, Hubby and I called the kid into being, so it's not like he's demanding anything I wasn't prepared to give. I have my fingers helixed, though, that the new job will allow me a little more writing time than I currently get (er, besides what I steal at work for these posts).
Right now, I cull inspiration from the success of my peers. A half dozen or so people I actually know have been published (sure, I've lost touch with some of 'em since college, but I think they'd know me if I ran into them on the street). Companies have actually handed over some ducats for the words these people spill on a page. So, I know it's not impossible. I just need to keep plugging away at the little romantic tale I'm spinning...
Man, that makes me sound like a lush.
Anyway, my writing has been (how to say this delicately?) ground to a halt by being a mother. It's tough to squeeze in the necessary think time between dinners, and bedtime routines, and sanitizing high chairs. Don't think you're reading bitterness between-the-lines or anything like that; parenting is what it is. Anyway, Hubby and I called the kid into being, so it's not like he's demanding anything I wasn't prepared to give. I have my fingers helixed, though, that the new job will allow me a little more writing time than I currently get (er, besides what I steal at work for these posts).
Right now, I cull inspiration from the success of my peers. A half dozen or so people I actually know have been published (sure, I've lost touch with some of 'em since college, but I think they'd know me if I ran into them on the street). Companies have actually handed over some ducats for the words these people spill on a page. So, I know it's not impossible. I just need to keep plugging away at the little romantic tale I'm spinning...
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
'Cause I'm Movin' On Up, to...Elkridge?
I've decided to take the job my friend offered me, which means I am officially forsaking the cloacal commute to and from the ironically monikered (ironikered?) City of Trees. Now that I've informed all of my co-workers and am beginning the tedium of tying up loose ends, I'm really, really excited about this new job.
First off, it will be unassailably cool to work for a toy company, regardless of my job function. I could be schlepping water to the company dog's bowl, and it'd still be a breath of fresh air. As much as I love my co-workers and the mission of my current employer, the monotony of this job can make me feel like this sometimes.
Second, I'll get to travel. By nature I'm a homebody, but right now I'm digging the idea of spending a week(end) here and there in New York, Boston, San Diego, or maybe even (fingers crossed) London. The only downside is that the boy and Hubby won't get to be there with me, but I'd be working anyway.
Third, and perhaps most importantly, my new office will be 15 minutes away from where I live. Right now, I can't even comprehend how this will improve my outlook on life. On a typical day, I leave my house at 7:10 a.m., drop off the boy, and hit the road to go to work by 7:25 a.m. I get to the office anywhere between 8:25 and 9:00 a.m. (post Labor Day, I sometimes don't cross the threshold 'til 9:30 a.m. courtesy of the school year kick-off). Going home, I shut down my computer at 5:30 p.m., and am home-again home-again jiggity-jog around 6:45 p.m. On a good day, that's 2 hours on the road. On a realistic day, it's more like 2.5.
This means that I stand to reclaim 10 HOURS PER WEEK. That's like a whole 'nother day! I could, oh, I don't know, play with the boy, or run an errand, or clean a bathroom without feeling like it's cutting into whatever teeny bits of me-time I have on any given week day. Best of all, I won't be freakin' exhausted when I'm home. Right now, "playing" with the boy entails "pretending" to be asleep so that he can dash over and wake me up. I'm convinced his early mommy memories will consist entirely of me laying on the floor as though I've just stroked out.
Despite the reasons listed above, this was actually a really tough decision to make 'cause there is a degree of risk involved. When I left my old job, my first job out of college, I ran screaming from it Edvard Munch-style. They'd given me nutty amounts of work to do, and occasionally weren't able to pay me for my efforts. Well, and the dude running the company made David Brent look like Mother Teresa.
Suffice it to say I couldn't possibly regret leaving them 'cause they had zilch to offer me. But my current employer does -- security, guaranteed increases, appreciative co-workers, educational opportunities. So I'm gonna feel like a right fool if the new job is not all it's currently cracked up to be. Ah, but my friend wouldn't have sucked me into Dilbert-esque bedlam, right? Right?
First off, it will be unassailably cool to work for a toy company, regardless of my job function. I could be schlepping water to the company dog's bowl, and it'd still be a breath of fresh air. As much as I love my co-workers and the mission of my current employer, the monotony of this job can make me feel like this sometimes.
Second, I'll get to travel. By nature I'm a homebody, but right now I'm digging the idea of spending a week(end) here and there in New York, Boston, San Diego, or maybe even (fingers crossed) London. The only downside is that the boy and Hubby won't get to be there with me, but I'd be working anyway.
Third, and perhaps most importantly, my new office will be 15 minutes away from where I live. Right now, I can't even comprehend how this will improve my outlook on life. On a typical day, I leave my house at 7:10 a.m., drop off the boy, and hit the road to go to work by 7:25 a.m. I get to the office anywhere between 8:25 and 9:00 a.m. (post Labor Day, I sometimes don't cross the threshold 'til 9:30 a.m. courtesy of the school year kick-off). Going home, I shut down my computer at 5:30 p.m., and am home-again home-again jiggity-jog around 6:45 p.m. On a good day, that's 2 hours on the road. On a realistic day, it's more like 2.5.
This means that I stand to reclaim 10 HOURS PER WEEK. That's like a whole 'nother day! I could, oh, I don't know, play with the boy, or run an errand, or clean a bathroom without feeling like it's cutting into whatever teeny bits of me-time I have on any given week day. Best of all, I won't be freakin' exhausted when I'm home. Right now, "playing" with the boy entails "pretending" to be asleep so that he can dash over and wake me up. I'm convinced his early mommy memories will consist entirely of me laying on the floor as though I've just stroked out.
Despite the reasons listed above, this was actually a really tough decision to make 'cause there is a degree of risk involved. When I left my old job, my first job out of college, I ran screaming from it Edvard Munch-style. They'd given me nutty amounts of work to do, and occasionally weren't able to pay me for my efforts. Well, and the dude running the company made David Brent look like Mother Teresa.
Suffice it to say I couldn't possibly regret leaving them 'cause they had zilch to offer me. But my current employer does -- security, guaranteed increases, appreciative co-workers, educational opportunities. So I'm gonna feel like a right fool if the new job is not all it's currently cracked up to be. Ah, but my friend wouldn't have sucked me into Dilbert-esque bedlam, right? Right?
Thursday, August 11, 2005
They were born in 1987? When I Was Making Goo-Goo Eyes at Tom Appler During George "No, Really, I'm Straight" Michael's 'Father Figure'?
Each year, Beloit College in Wisconsin publishes what it calls a "Mindset List" to help faculty and staff better understand the outlook of the incoming class of first-year students. This year's list is a little weak, I think; the only one that really gave me chills was #13. I don't know if the 2002 Mindset List was the first year that Beloit culled factoids about its matriculates, but it was the first time that I looked at a collection of generational identifiers and felt the impact of not relating. This, I know, will repeat itself ad infinitum during my lifetime, but it still feels weird to be the "older" generation. But I have to make my peace with that, 'cause the alternative would be hanging out in the Limited Too, going to all ages shows, and just generally being creepy in a vain attempt to keep in touch with the Millenials.
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