Enough

Mass shootings.  I haven't written about this topic for 10 years.  

I try to keep it pretty light around here, but sometimes I have to talk about the heavy stuff. Like in 2012, when I wrote about the massacre at Sandy Hook.  Since then, countless others have lost their lives and loves to senseless violence.

Today's mass shooting hit particularly close to home. 

It was in Highland Park, IL, a quiet suburb of Chicago where my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew live.  I thank God that they are here in Florida right now, away from the madness, but they easily could have been at the July 4th parade on Main Street in their hometown.

When did going to a PARADE become a life or death decision?

The news that's been coming out all day is devastating.  So many innocent people are hurting.  And I feel that.  But I'm mad, too. It's been 23 YEARS since Colombine in '99, and yet here we are -- another young man with a gun decides to unleash his rage on an unsuspecting community of sitting ducks. 

How?

WHY?

And what the eff is wrong with our leaders that they can't -- or won't -- address these unthinkable events that occur with horrifying regularity?

Look, I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I do know this: The solution is not one-note.  

Ban all assault weapons? Sure, semi-automatic rifles are definitely part of this problem, but as I said 10 years ago, a ban will really only affect the law-abiders among us.  Criminals will still do whatever they want. That's what they do -- they're criminals.

Mental health is another component of this, no doubt -- the destigmatization of mental illness, access to help, real resources for family and friends, and early detection of warning signs before tragedy strikes are all needed.

But if we're being honest, access to weapons and unchecked mental health issues have been around for DECADES, if not centuries, right? Why is this boiling over in the 21st?  What's so different about the time we live in now?  

I think the answer is the Internet.

It is the most powerful invention of my lifetime, putting the world quite literally in the palm of our hands. It has the capacity to do wonderous things, to connect people, to know everything -- the possibilities are limitless.  I mean, I've made a living doing all things digital for the past 20+ years, so I obviously love it. 

But as we all know, there is also a very dark side to the Internet. And I think THAT is the biggest factor as to why we've seen a sickening surge in mass shootings since it came to be.

To me, there are 3 reasons the Internet is the tipping point for all this death and destruction:

• Easy Access. Access to information on how to do horrible things. Access to others who share your warped views.  Access to places that sell questionable and dangerous items which can be used to do harm.  Access to videos and games that help you simulate the terrible act you're about to commit. Anything or anyone is just a click away. 

• Instant Notoriety. Mix a 24-hour news cycle that craves fresh content with the social media like-cycle (and the dopamine hit you get when something goes viral), and you've got a recipe for disaster -- especially for someone who feels wronged, dismissed, or overlooked by society. 

• Emotional Detachment. The Internet is a place to connect AND disconnect.  So keyboard warriors can say hurtful things they'd never say to someone's face, or gamers can slaughter hundreds for sport. We've created a generation that can do and say sick things online and never blink an eye. Is it that much of a leap that this mindset extends to real life?

Our leaders -- ALL of them over the past 20+ years -- have failed us at every opportunity to seriously address this epidemic. Since technology helped us get into this mess, let's use it to help us get out.

Here are 2 ideas:

• Monitor the Internet. There are LOADS of red flags uncovered in someone's digital footprint AFTER they've done something unthinkable. Social media manifestos. email threats and dangerous search histories abound in a predictable pattern of behavior that leads up to these heinous acts. What if we got ahead of that to prevent it from happening in the first place? If we can flag Covid misinformation, surely we can do this.

• Install Listening Devices. If Alexa can listen for your favorite song, and Siri can call your mom, imagine if these devices existed in schools, churches, temples and other vulnerable places? It wouldn't require a child crouching in a closet to call 911 on their cell phone, the room would already be listening for cries for help and gunshots to automatically alert the authorities and send help immediately. Are YOU listening Google, Facebook and Apple?

Is this controversial?  Yes. Is it a slippery slope?  Maybe.  But what we've been doing isn't working. 

I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I know we need to do something different.  Now.

Enough is enough.

Dear 1800-FLOWERS

Sunday is Mother's Day. But, you already knew that.

 

It's probably a pretty huge holiday for you, right?

After all, not everybody celebrates Christmas.  And birthdays come just once a year.  But everybody has, or had, a mom. And all us kids, no matter how big or small, like to show our love with cards and gifts and brunches and flowers and... berries.

Like millions of others, I went online the other day to order something special for my mom. And I stumbled upon your company, Shari's Berries. 

"Send a smile," they said!

That sounds nice, right? So I ordered a dozen chocolate covered strawberries and 9 strawberry cheesecake bites, pictured here.

Plump, juicy strawberries with creamy cheesecake bites, both covered in chocolate, all for the bargain price of $114.46.  I know you're not taking advantage of this holiday at all.  Besides, mom's worth it.  And it looks so yummy, she's absolutely going to love it, right? 

Wrong.

My gift was scheduled to arrive today.  At 6:30pm I received an email from you that a delivery attempt was made but no one was home.  Huh.  We were, in fact, home and nobody ever knocked on the door.  So I called customer service and spoke to a women who told me to ignore this message, that the driver was in my area and would be here soon.

Hooray!  I was relieved.  But I bet YOU can guess what happened next...

No one ever arrived. 

So, I called you again at about 7:45pm and spoke to another representative.  She told me that my order was now scheduled for delivery tomorrow, and I told her that was an issue.  

I specifically chose delivery TODAY because we were not going to be home tomorrow.  And since this was a perishable order that sat on a delivery van all day, I wasn't sure if it would even be good when it finally was redelivered.  She apologized and told me she would credit my card for the full order and I would receive an email after our call confirming this. 

I never received an email.  Shocker.

Instead, what we got was someone ringing our doorbell at 11:30pm to deliver a warm, crushed box of strawberries and cheesecake.  

Let me repeat that: SOMEONE RINGING OUR DOORBELL AT 11:30PM.

Talk about a shocker!  When I answered the door and told the delivery man that it was REALLY inappropriate to make deliveries at this hour, he told me they were very busy with Mother's Day.  Then he wanted to take a picture! 

I slammed the door in his face.

To say a delivery at this hour, with a beat up box, is unacceptable is an understatement. Who do you hire to deliver these gifts?  It is frightening to have someone standing outside your front door in the dark at almost MIDNIGHT!

And what the hell happened to these puny, melted, smashed up berries on the way to our house?

I don't even care anymore.  Thanks for nothing, except a mild heart attack that almost wiped out my whole family. I will NEVER shop at Shari's Berries -- or any of your brands -- ever again.  

And that's too bad for you, because I don't think twice about buying your grossly overpriced yet totally mediocre flowers and gifts. 

I'll be contacting you at a decent hour for a full and immediate refund and to report this shop for their poor judgement and terrible service.

Please see the photos below and change your name to 1800-FAILURE.
Jen

Covid, I Hate You

Both figuratively and literally, I am sick and tired.

For TWO YEARS, we masked, and we vaxxed (3X!!), and we distanced, and we washed, and we disinfected, and we stayed home, and we stayed away, and yet...

My parents and I tested positive for Covid last week.

And it's not the asymptomatic kind that you never know you have.  OH NO!  We're coughing and sneezing, there are headaches and dizziness, congestion and tummy troubles, we can't sleep and food tastes weird.  

And the ANXIETY!  What does that ache mean?  Will this get worse?  When will it go away?

I'm told I should be thankful that because we're vaccinated it's not "that bad." Really?? Is that the best we can do?  Yes, we're home and not in a hospital -- and sure, that's obviously good. But it's not enough! Not for all the sacrifices we, and millions of others, have made. 

No!

Get vaccinated to be protected, they said.  Wear a mask to be responsible, they said. It's not safe to travel or gather or shop or eat or laugh or BREATHE outside your house, they said.

We did ALL the things. And yet, here we are.

Covid, I hate you.

I wish we never met.  And I hope we never, ever meet again.

Beat it!
Jen 

Dear 2021

Finally, you're here! 

Billions of people have been counting down the days until your arrival.  So, I'll make it simple for you.  

You have ONE job this year...

Be better than 2020.

That's not hard, right?  2020 was a dumpster fire of a year! Just making it to December was an achievement for us all.

And as you're looking for ways to be better, might I suggest starting with any of these 9 totally taken for granted things that 2020 took away?  

I miss them all terribly, and I suspect others might as well:  

1. Hugs
2. Smiling
3. Eating in restaurants
4. Going grocery shopping
5. Trips to Target
6. Working in an office with people you are not related to
7. Flying
8. Professional haircuts
9. Coughing without getting the stinkeye

While we're at it, here's one thing I do NOT miss.  Please don't mess with it:

1. Wearing actual pants

They are binding and uncomfortable and they squeeze my belly.  Thank you.

Your pandemic pal,

Jen

My Corona

Sooooo, this is fun, huh?

As the news gets more horrible by the millisecond, we all learn new phrases like "social distancing" and "shelter in place" and we hear how every company we've ever given our email address to is handling COVID-19...

I thought it was a good time to blow the dust off this blog and share a few thoughts.

By now, most of us who are fortunate enough to work from home are doing so. Indefinitely. And we know anyone who still has to work outside the home and put themselves in harm's way are the real heroes of this story.

But while we're all trying to avoid getting the Coronavirus, it's v easy to catch Cabin Fever.

Here are 8 things we can do to stay sane in these uncertain times:

LEARN SOMETHING NEW
For me, I tried washing my hands for 20 seconds.  It's waaaay longer than you think.  Suffice it to say, I've been doing it wrong for 46 years and it's a wonder I don't have trenchmouth and pink eye.  You might set your bar a little higher and learn a language.

KONDO YOUR CLOSET
Use all this time at home to surround yourself with things that spark joy and keep the Boogieman at bay.  It's a great time to get organized!  The inventory will be especially helpful if we all have to start selling our handbags and shoes in order to afford the roof over our heads.

PLAY CHOPPED AT HOME
Gather all the random crap you have in the back of your pantry (hello, cream of mushroom soup!) and in the depths of your freezer (when did I buy chicken patties?).  Suddenly, it's Casserole O'Clock.

GROW A BEARD
I don't have an old lady beard (yet) but for all you dudes out there, now's the time to experiment with the facial hair.  Grow a full beard, then trim it like a bonsai.  Leave the goatee, then decide it's creepy.  Shave it off AND your eyebrows too. Who cares? It will grow back by the time we emerge from this crazy nightmare.

WEAR WHAT YOU WANT
No bra? No problem! PJs all day? Yes, please! Even with video calls, you only need to look presentable from the shoulders up. It's the Golden Age of Athleisure -- make the most of it.

QUARANTINE & CHILL
STOP watching the news -- it's all awwwful.  Our brains need cotton candy -- like Love Is Blind.  Rather watch a comedy? Binge Schitt's Creek or Curb Your Enthusiasm.  Prefer documentaries? Check out McMillions or Cheer.  Watch anything, really.  Just don't watch Contagion.  And don't be surprised in 9 months when a TON of babies are born.

SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESSES
Many big companies -- chain restaurants, retail stores, etc -- can afford to shut down and pay employees (for now), but most of the mom and pops out there are struggggling.  So, order delivery, buy something from their website, give them a 5-star review, or get a gift card, and help them stay afloat if you can. Good karma will come back to you.

DON'T BE A JERK
Let's not travel when we're sick, like this jerk. Let's stay home when we're asked to, unlike this jerk. Let's not hoard 17,000 hand sanitizers, like this jerk. Basically, let's be decent humans. It's really the best thing any of us can do.


If I know one thing about people, it's that we're resilient. And this too shall pass.  So, hang in there everybody.

As Coach Taylor says.. clean hands, full hearts, can't lose!

Dear DMV

I love driving in Jersey.

Our highways are great. I think the jughandle is a glorious way to make a left turn.  It's sheer bliss that we don't have to pump our own gas.  I even think our state smells good!

You know what driving stereotype I DO believe?

The DMV is the worst.

YOU. ARE. THE. WORST.

When you sent me a letter telling me my license was expiring, I cringed. You told me I could renew by mail and save time. But you know what?  I hate my photo.  It's terrible. I blame you!

So, my vanity overruled my logic and I decided to come in for a visit.

Mistake.

The only time I've ever been psyched to be at the DMV was on my bday was when I turned 17 and got my first license. In fact, it was at the very same DMV I visited today.  The place was old 30 years ago.

Now, it's a complete shithole. (See above.)

A trip to the DMV is like a day in purgatory. The one in Wayne is literally falling apart. Even the signs that say "pardon our appearance" are peeling off. (The jig is up - no one believes something new is coming soon.) Everyone stands in line for HOURS. Are chairs so expensive? There is ZERO air in the dead of summer. Would a fan kill you?

Oh, and all your employees are like hostile zombies. Even the woman emptying the trash wore a tshirt that said "enemies" across the front.

So, morale is obviously an issue.

You know what else is an issue?  EFFICIENCY!

I actually had to visit you TWO times and spend almost FIVE hours of my life to get a valid, in-state  license renewed. Shocked?  Me neither.

Last Saturday, I arrived at 1pm and stood in a line under fluorescent lights in a steamy side room for two loooong hours until you closed. A smiling man in a yellow shirt eventually turned us away and cheerfully said to come back on Monday.

I bet he gets punched a lot.

Do you think if I could come on a Monday, I'd waste my Saturday with YOU?

No.

Today, I came back because I am obviously insane. I arrived at 11am -- FOUR hours before closing.  This time, we stood in a line OUTSIDE, baking in the sun. I didn't think to bring my sunscreen to the DMV, but no doubt the SPF would have washed away in a river of my sweat.

At noon, an officer told us that they might have accepted all the people they could see for the day.

Please note: It was still THREE hours until closing.

Ummm... what country are we in? What century is this?? What. The. Eff.

Please know, I speak not only for myself, but for the people I stood on line with. Twice. Inside and outside your flawed facility, my neighbors were very vocal as we experienced the 5 stages of grief together:

DENIAL
   "This shit costs how much?"
   "I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm going to Bloomingdales."

ANGER
   "Bitch, we're not moving"
   "I'm about to say fuck it & drive illegally."

BARGAINING
   "You want to sit in the car? No. If I have to suffer, so do you."
   "I owe you. We're hitting up Sonic after this. Get some tots and a Coney!"

DEPRESSION
   "I wish I would have never lost my license."
   "This line is mad long. I'm about to die."

ACCEPTANCE
   "There is no amount of deodorant that can keep me from stinking right now."
   "This is the greatest day of my life!"

(That last kid was getting his first license and a convertible BMW.  He doesn't count.)

In a miraculous twist, they let more of us inside. When I finally sloshed up to the counter -- nearly three hours later -- I noticed the woman who processed my paperwork was wearing a sweater.

"The break room is so cold," she said.

Right then, my head exploded, which was unfortunate because I was about to take a pic.

You take BREAKS when a hundred people are standing in the sun? And you CRANK the air conditioning in the break room while every other area is a sauna? And your staff is STILL miserable?

I can't.

After all that nonsense, I did get my license.  When she handed it to me, she said, "Pretty."

Don't you try to sweet talk me. Get it together, DMV!

You are awful.
Jen

To My Future Boyfriend

Everyone in my company got a red rose today, which was SUCH a sweet gesture.

As I was chopping my longstem rose down to put it in water (aka my makeshift Coke cup vase), something occurred to me: It's been a while since I've gotten flowers on V-Day.

Like, a long while.

I'm sure that has NOTHING to do with my superficial dating criteria that you be over 6ft tall and have dark eyes and hair (on your head).

Or, the fact that I almost never go on dates anymore.

But I am thinking about it. For reals.

And when I do meet the right guy (aka YOU), here are ten things you should know...

1. I'm very independent.  Some say too independent.  So the fact is, I'll rarely need your help and I probably won't ever ask for it. Unless I need to open a jar.  Then, I promise I'll come knocking.  I mean, the salsa doesn't serve itself!
2. I may not like to get help, but I LOVE to give it.  I am a fixer, so I'll want to do nice things for you and help you solve your problems. Just let me do it and pretend to take my advice.  It comes from a good place.  
3. I won't ask you to buy me expensive things.  I buy those myself.  In fact, I think we should share most expenses.  Except our first date.  That's on you.
4. I'm an affectionate person, but I probably won't kiss you on our first date. When we do, I wholeheartedly believe in the 90/10 rule.
5. I don't like an overly manscaped man.  I mean, we should both handle our own yardwork, but I'M supposed to be the one without any chest hair, not you.
6. I appreciate the little things -- so open my doors, say "bless you" when I sneeze, and ask me to call or text when I get home.  It's not really about the manners (though I'm glad if you know the bread is on the left and the drink is on the right).  It's about the sentiment behind it that says you care. About me. Not Emily Post. Eff her.
7. I'll do anything for my family and close friends, and generally put their needs above my own. So I'll understand if there are people in your life that you need to prioritize above us.  Same goes for work. After all, we need to pay for the amazing adventures we're about to have.
8. I'm on friendly terms with all my exes but one, and I'm a super loyal open book. I won't give you any reason to question me. That should be mutual.  
9. I don't believe in soulmates. They were invented by Hallmark and the government.  I DO believe that compatible people are put in our path and it's up to us to recognize them and grow together.
10. My endgame isn't marriage. That doesn't mean I won't want to marry you.  I might.  But I might not.  Either way, YOU will definitely want to marry ME.  I'm a serious catch.

Did I mention you also need to think I'm funny?

Until we meet...

love,
jen

PS: While we're at it, I hope you aren't a baby talker, bad speller, sidewalk spitter or terrible tipper.

PPS: Also, I don't like grocery store assorted flower bunches. If you buy them, I will still love them because they came from you. But I will love them more if they are plain yellow roses without baby's breath, ferns or other gross fillers mucking it up. Grocery stores sell those too.  Just sayin.

PPPS: If we ever do meet and you read this, I will be mortified.  Unless you think it's cute, which will secretly make me love you even more.

Back to School

Sorry...I went on a little writing hiatus.  But I'm back!

Let's get caught up: I turned 44. I miss Coke Zero. I liked Ozark, but didn't love it.  I'm psyched about Amazon & Whole Foods.  North Korea is giving me hives. Irma gave me 100 gray hairs. And I'm pissed Equifax leaked all our data.

Ok?  Ok.

So it's been a minute since I've been a student.  Or 11,563,200 minutes, but who's counting?

I was recently asked to give some advice to a graduating high school senior.  Over the years, I've given a lot of advice to students graduating college, but this was a first.

Oh, and she was born in 2000.  Just let that soak in for a minute...

Anyway, when I think about my own experience at her age, I was a pretty serious about school.  I was decently popular, but I do feel like I missed out on life because I was so wrapped up being the perfect student and daughter.

I was in mostly honors and AP classes.  I made the National Honor Society.  I tracked my grade point average down to the hundredth of a decimal point.  I kept a list of every book I ever read.  I graduated in the top 10% of my class.  I did well on my SATs, was accepted early decision to college, and started with a few credits in the bag because of my scores on the AP English test.  I never cut school, never drank, never snuck out at night.  I lived a very G-rated life.

College was a different story.

I didn't go crazy, but I definitely relaxed.  A lot.  Pretty early on I realized I didn't have to work all that hard and I'd still get grades of the A and B (and occasionally C) variety.

I worked my way into the classes I wanted so my roommate and I could have the same schedule (that was back when nothing was online so you could tell the professor that the registrar signed you up and tell the registrar that the professor signed you up -- and no one was the wiser).  I went to class regularly, but didn't study much.  I wrote every paper the night before it was due.  I slept through a French final (and still somehow got a B).  We went out 4 nights a week.  At least.

And I did just fine.

I graduated college with a 3.45.  Looking back, I wish I pushed myself just a tiiiny bit to make Dean's List at 3.5.

But I'm sure there was a happy medium between my high school and college self.  So when it came time to give that advice, here's what I said:

• Go to class -- seriously, just go. It's why you're there. And you won't have to study as hard if you just listen and take notes.
• Use the buddy system -- college is so much easier to navigate with a friend.
• Figure it out -- you are in a giant safety net, use this time to learn what you like and what you don't about school, subjects, activities, relationships & life.
• Be smart -- nothing is private and social media lives forever, so watch what you say and do or your parents will disown you and no one will hire you when you graduate. Kidding.  (Not really.)
• Take naps -- preschool and college are the only times this is acceptable until you're 70, enjoy it.

So, how'd I do?  What would YOU have said?  Give me some advice below...


tags: jersey, rants

There Will Be Blood

Spoiler Alert: This post is gross.  Skip it if you're squeamish...

Back in April, I got the worst news ever: I needed a root canal.

Crap.

I just finished the 3 STEP process today.  It's June.

You know how root canals have this reputation of being a horrible experience?  Well, if you read anything about them recently, everyone says that's a myth.  They say with today's advanced techniques it's really not so bad.  Some might even say it's a breeze!

They lie.

Let me tell you the truth about my toxic tooth...

It all started because a filling cracked off when I was eating guacamole.  How that happened, I'll never know.  Anyway, we're talking about the molar waaaaay in the back of my mouth on the left side (the middle tooth in this pic).

Meet my rotten/robot tooth.

That stubby tooth next door is my deeply impacted wisdom tooth.  See, I have giant horse teeth and a tiny jaw.  I also am lacking the standard amount of choppers a grown adult should have (32) because a bunch of them were yanked out when I was a kid to prevent crowding.

Then I wore braces for 4.5 years.

The net-net is I have a nice smile, 26 visible teeth, and a massive phobia of dentists.  So wisdom and his 3 buddies are staying put.

Forever.

Anyway, it turns out when you lose a filling in that hard to reach spot, it's not great.  I say this because in all likelihood, the filling cracked a while ago but I didn't know.  And bacteria wormed its way around and killed my tooth from the inside.

Didn't even hurt.  So it wasn't until my guacamole was suddenly extra crunchy that I knew I had a problem.

It was like eating a driveway.

My sweet hometown dentist said, "uh oh," when he looked at the black spot my xray (see above).  Never a good sign.  Once he said the words "root canal" I basically zoned out of the rest of the words coming out of his mouth.

Blah, blah, blabedy, blah blah.

He referred me to an endodontist.  Apparently, that's a guy who does root canals, all day, every day.  And I'll be honest, I didn't look up much about this procedure.  Mainly because there was no sense in freaking myself out about the inevitable.

I'd rather just not know anything and let sheer horror wash over me in the moment.

Really test my fight or flight instincts.

So I'm in the chair for appointment #1 and I'm sitting next to a giant tray of truly medieval shit.  I don't even know what I'm looking at, but I know it's scary AF.

Doc comes in and makes a knock knock joke.  And I instantly know I'm in for a long day.

I brace myself for the actual root canal (which I naively believe is the worst part),  And it was no picnic.  After all, he's about to drill and scoop and stuff my roots with God knows what.  But first, he shows me this giant piece of rubber with 2 bars to keep my jaw open and a clamp to hook on my tooth.

Now, it's a party.

In all, 7 disturbing things were said:
1. Just so you know, your co-pay will be $550.
2. I call this tool Mr. Bumpy!
3. Has anyone ever told you that you have a very high threshold for pain?
4. Would you like to see your nerve?
5. Your roots are REALLY long.
6. Boy, that was kind of hard.
7. You have very beautiful eyes.

That last one made me throw up a little in my mouth.

After 2 hours in the coal mines, he patched me up and sent me on my way.  Before I left, he told me I need to see my regular dentist next for a crown, which is essentially a fancy slipcover for my weak, sad tooth (my words, not his).

He says the filling he used is temporary, but it should last several weeks.  Maybe a month!

Here's what actually happened:

Awesome.

Also, I received no antibiotics or pain meds, as stated on this form.  Granted, I had no infections or pain.  But still...

On appointment #2, it was time to get measured for my temporary crown.  In my mind, the worst was behind me.  This would be easy peasy!  Like going to the tailor to hem a skirt.

I was super effing wrong.

Here I am, back in my hometown that I love. I took the day off, thinking I might go shopping afterwards.  I flick on the TV and kick back for my "fitting."

Oh, and I also ignored it when they told me this appointment would take an hour and a half.

They must be wrong, I thought... and they were!  It actually took TWO and a half.

This time, 5 disturbing things were said:
1. Good news -- you don't need any novocaine today!
2. Your tooth has no nerve so you won't feel anything when I remove some of the root canal filling and screw in a post.
3. Your gums have grown over a bit, they will need to be shaved down.
4. It's perfectly normal to bleed.  Do not be alarmed.
5. That will be $408.80.

I'm not sure how to explain what happened here.  I think I joined Fight Club.

Except I'm not allowed to talk about Fight Club.  So let's just say it was like Game of Thrones combined with Gladiator combined with all the gory bloodfests ever made in the history of cinema.

Kinda like that. 

Turns out "shaving" my gums meant cutting around all the edges of my tooth like a mom trims the crust off a PB&J sandwich.  

So it hurts. And it bleeds more than you can imagine.

Good thing he did the post and re-building of my tooth first, because after the cutting I rinsed at least a dozen times and it was still bright red.  Like the shower scene from Psycho (if it was actual blood and not chocolate syrup).

I think I even made my dentist nervous.  So he put a solution on my gums to try and stop the bleeding.  

It tasted like pure evil.

Eventually the flow slowed, but it was still fresh on the purple oozy mold he took of my mouth.  And also on the temporary crown he put on my tooth (while dental elves were busy making the real one off my bloody mold).  

Afterwards, my gums felt like raw chopmeat.  I left completely sick to my stomach.  Needless to say, I did not spend the afternoon shopping.

Fast forward to today, appointment #3.  My temporary crown was still firmly in place when I sat down in the chair.

There was NO WAY they were going to pry it loose.  I assumed there would be another solution.

I was wrong.  Again.

On this final visit, 2 disturbing things were said:
1. Let me do it, you're too weak. (said the hygienist to the dentist as she muscled my temp off -- they're married, btw)
2. Let's watch Valerie Bertinelli make a salad.

To be fair, we had Food Network on while we were waiting for the permanent bonding agent to set so my new crown wouldn't fall off.  Or down.  Whatever.  Still, I'll never look at old Val the same again.

So FINALLY, it's over.  Aaaannnd I have a robot tooth.

For anyone who's still reading this (and keeping score), that's:
- 2 days off work
- 5 HOURS and 15 minutes in the dentist's chair
- 6 shots of novocaine (maybe more, I lost track)
- 2 crowns -- one acrylic, one porcelain, zero fit for a queen
- And $958.80 out of pocket -- and I have insurance!


There you have it.  My cautionary tale on why you never, ever, ever, EVER want a root canal.

Now, be safe out there -- make good choices!


tags: gross, health, rants

Choose Your Words

This weekend I've been getting shit done.

Errands mostly.  Some important.  Some annoying.  But it just feels good to check these things off a list!

So, I went for blood work and I got my teeth cleaned (the dentist also told me I need a root canal -- crap).  I got my taxes done.  I stopped the cable box inside my closet from beeping (no thanks to Verizon).  And I returned a leather jacket, a rain jacket, wedges and a pair of sneakers because apparently, I am the Goldilocks of late night online shopping.

My to-do list is to-done.

Another thing that's been nagging at me is writing a new blog post.  I guess I just haven't felt super creative lately. But I'm jumping back in right now with a post on... words.

Words?  Yes, words.

Stick with me for a sec.

Whenever I write a post, it generally takes me about 20 mins to bang out whatever I want to say.  But then, I spend another hour or so choosing my words.  I read it, and reread it, tightening it up as I go.  Looking for a better way to turn a phrase.  Finding the best lines to emphasize.  Spellchecking.

In honor of this process, I've come up with a list of words I hate and why they stink so bad.  Here are the 6 cringeworthiest words in the English language:

1. MOIST. This one is universally hated -- that's not me, that's science.
2. SOIL. Ick.  Just say shit or crap or dirt.  Much less offensive.
3. YOLK.  This one is personal.  I despise eggs and everything about them.
4. PHLEGM. Fun to spell, disgusting to say.  And every time I see this goopy spit on a sidewalk, it makes me want to cover it in vomit. 
5. PANTIES. I feel like a pervert even typing it. Just ew.
6. OINTMENT. Nothing good can come from needing to use this. I want no part of it.

While we're at it, here are 6 words I find just plain annoying:

1. LITERALLY. Using this word is literally the worst because it's never followed by something literal. As such, it is also a clear signal someone is exaggerating.
2. ARTISINAL. I believe it is Latin for pretentious asshole.
3. WHILST. An email I received last week used this ridiculous word. Then I saw they were British. And I was like... ok.
4. VAJAYJAY. This nonsense is actually in the DICTIONARY.  Make it stop before my head explodes.
5. IRREGARDLESS. Not really a word.
6. SUPPOSIBLY. Definitely not a word. If you say this, we can't be friends anymore.  Literally.

Ah, that's better.  Let's end on a high note with 6 words I love:

1. KERFUFFLE. My favorite word for a fuss or a disagreement.
2. DEBACLE. When kerfuffle isn't enough to do justice to the disaster at hand.
3. SHITSHOW.  The perfect storm of everything gone wrong.  A situation that's so chaotic and insane it's practically entertainment.
4. NUGGET. My favorite way to describe something small and adorable.
5. WONKY or JANKY. My favorite way to describe something effed up without offending anyone.
6. TCHOTCHKE. While I have no need for cheap trinkets, this one is fun to say AND fun to blow people's minds when they realize it's not spelled chachki.

So, what are YOUR favorite words?  Choose your own below.

And don't say fuck.  That's obvious.


tags: rants, writing

The (Not So) New Gilmore Girls Stunk and I Still Can't Get Over It

I know Gilmore Girls: A Year In the Life aired over Thanksgiving and today is Valentine's Day.

But I waited to post about it until now, in part because I didn't want to spoil it for anybody. And because I still can't believe they screwed it up so badly.

Also because I am lazy.

Man, I wanted to love it, but it broke my heart.

In all this time, I've thought about WHY I hated it (and my mom hated it, and my friends at work hated it).  Mainly, I think it's because the plot, the people, and the dialogue were SO ridiculous and out of character from the SEVEN seasons we all watched and loved, I honestly don't know why they bothered to do it at all.

You know the old saying, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all?

Not tonight.

Given that this is such a mother-daughter show, and I watched this whole series several times with my own mom, we couldn't wait to binge our way through the seasons. But we knew we entered an alternate universe when Winter started without even one note from Carole King, and it was downhill from there.

Here's why we want NO more Gilmore:

LORELAI, The Cool Mom

MOM: Lorelai was very dull. She wasn't chipper. She didn't have any spunk. Her dialogue wasn't cute or funny. She was dull dull dull.

ME: She dressed like a grandma. She stopped talking fast. She was depressed. She's in therapy. With her MOM. She read a book instead of watching a movie. She went H-I-K-I-N-G. In nature! Who the eff is this woman?

RORY, The Pride of Stars Hollow

MOM: OMG Rory,  What a hopeful, beautiful, smart, young lady she was. She knew exactly what she wanted.  She had her eye on being a journalist.  What happened to that girl?  She was a loser!  She didn't have the joy.  She couldn't do anything right. Just blew my mind.

ME: I get why she's trans-Atlantic friends with benefits with Logan. I might see how she went from following then president-elect Obama on the campaign trail to running the snoozy Stars Hollow Gazette. I can even live with the infamous "last four words" that brings the story full circle --  Logan is her Christopher. I'm NOT on board that a girl with so much potential is basically a failure. But what really I can't abide by is how Rory Gilmore had a one night stand (her first!) with a Wookie from ComiCon.  Unacceptable on a thousand levels.

EMILY, The Stuffy Grandmother

MOM: I like the mother. She was right getting mad at Lorelai. But it was like she had a lobotomy! The husband dies and she's like a nomad. Wearing rag tag jeans. She quits the DAR? Nobody checks on her -- nobody bothered?  It's like they didn't care about her any more since the father died.

ME: The JEANS! Were Emily's tweed Chanel suits burned in a fire? When did she start sleeping until noon?  Why is she living in Martha's Vineyard with the creepy dude from Twin Peaks? She works at a WHALE museum? She works?!?! Did she hit her head? Was Richard holding her captive for 50 years, and now she's letting her freak flag fly?  I need answers.

RICHARD, The Stuffy (and Dead) Grandfather

MOM: They didn't give the father the respect he should have gotten.  Especially with Lorelai, not even able to think of one wonderful memory and just made a joke out of a serious matter.  Absolutely disgraceful.

ME: Shameful! She couldn't tell a single nice story about her dad, who she actually had a good relationship with when he was living, and who made it possible for her daughter to go to private school and an ivy league college? The pretzel story was too little, too late. A shitty ending. Richard and his bowties deserved more.

LUKE, The Safe Choice

MOM: Luke's like a puppy dog.  He always there.  He's always loyal.  And he's always getting used. At least he had some spunk in the first series.  He stood up for himself as a man.  Now he just serves her.

ME: He's always been a devoted doormat. He was even an afterthought in his own wedding scene! And they clearly ran out of budget on pricey cameos (I see you Peter Krause), so they had to pull Luke's wardrobe out of mothballs. I'll bet you a donut that hat never left his head because his hair most certainly did.

LOGAN, The Rich Ex-Boyfriend Who Can't Grow Up

MOM: I thought that was ridiculous with Logan.  He asks her to marry him and she says no, that's not her focus.  Then you find out they're together on the sly while he's engaged to someone else?  Trashy. That's not Rory.

ME: Oh, Logan. He is trouble! I have to say, though, I def see the appeal there. But he's got to ditch the Peter Pan clan and rich kid antics with the Life & Death Brigade. It's called growth, people! And did we all forget that he already proposed to Rory, or did we wipe that memory clean because Amy Sherman Palladino didn't write it?

JESS, The Moody Ex-Boyfriend Who Can't Settle Down

MOM: I love the men in Rory's life but they were only there for a second -- especially Jess.  I couldn't understand why they didn't spend more time.  What was he doing with his life?  What happened to him?  I loved that character and he was there for 5 seconds.

ME: She hasn't seen him in years! Why is she so unfazed? Maybe she's been cyberstalking him and is trying to play it cool. Or maybe it's because they dated in real life and it didn't end so great. I'm going with the latter.

DEAN, The Dopey First Love

MOM: The other guy! Did he go to college?  Did he get married again?  He saw Rory for 2 minutes in a grocery store.  What a disaster!  Who wrote this? I loved this show!  You had such a good feeling.  It made you laugh. And cry. Some belly laughs even.  It was a such good story. I guess you can't improve perfection.

ME: He bored me then and he bores me now. So nothing's changed here. Adios, macaroni hair!

PARIS, The Frenemy Turned Fertility Doctor

MOM: Yes, that one makes sense. I like her now on How to Get Away with Murder.

ME: Yeah, she's intense. But how is she still hung up on Chad Michael Murray?!  He didn't even show up. C'mon!

LANE, The Sheltered Best Friend

MOM: Lane had a dad?

ME: Where the eff has Mr. Kim been all this time?  Never popped his head out of the antique shop.  Missed her wedding and her babies, and when she dyed her hair purple? And she's still in Hep Alien? No. Just no.

CHRISTOPHER, The Irresponsible Dad

MOM: The talk with her father went so fast.  He FINALLY got his act together and is no longer a failure.  It seemed like they haven't talked in a long time.  He didn't want to talk to her mother at all?  Who wrote this?  Seems like an alien wrote this!

ME: This made me angry! Not a single scene with "Lor"? Oh, no you didn't. It's the final straw. I. Literally. Cannot.



Now I'm all riled up again. Before we go, let's say something nice about the revival...

MOM: I can't say anything good about it.  The anticipation of watching it was fun.  But it was a letdown. That's it. The town is great -- I love the town.  It was the hope.  The same quaintness and light.  But then it seemed like the people weren't the same.  They have to grow but they were totally different.

ME: Samesies.


So how do you rate it?

MOM: I give it a C.  They made an effort.  I just didn't agree with it.

ME: You're grading on a curve.  I give it a ZERO.  I want those 6 hours back!


SO what do YOU think?  Do you agree?  Do you smell snow?  Write me a loveletter below...


tags: entertainment, family, pop culture, rants

Election Eve

So it's Election Eve and I legit don't know who I'm voting for tomorrow.

If you know me, you know who I WANT to vote for.  But they certainly don't make it easy -- especially because I'm not even sure I LIKE this person.

Is this real life?

I truly can't stomach conversations about the election for one more second.  I feel like my pancreas might explode.  I especially hate having these convos at work.

Every time the topic comes up I feel like saying, "Excuse me while I go eat this sandwich on the toilet."

HOW can we not come up with better candidates? And HOW is this race so close?

Polling is all within the margin of error.  And at least where I live and work, TONS more people feel comfortable saying that they are voting for Hilz than for The Donald (even if that's what they secretly plan to do).

So... who's really in the lead?

I'm scared by either outcome.  I think tomorrow's going to be a long day and an even longer night.  And we'd better hop in our Deloreans, folks, because I think we're headed back to 2000 with a contested election, hanging chads, and fights over popular vs electoral votes.

Why wouldn't we?

Our voting system is completely broken (I told you that back in 2012) and in 16 years nobody bothered to try and fix it.  You know DJT won't abide by a HRC victory.  He has one setting: Scorched Earth.  And if the tables are turned and HE wins, I can't imagine SHE will sit idly by and fade into the sunset.

Hell no!  It will be a dumpster fire.

So, the best we can hope is that the difference in votes is greater than any fraud that could be perpetrated on either side.  And that dumb Gary Johnson doesn't muck it all up.

Shit.

I hope the right answer comes to me in a vision so I can hold my nose -- and pull that lever.

And to anyone who thinks they know exactly what will happen tomorrow, I'll leave you with one word: Brexit.

Yikes.  Buckle up.


tags: politics, rants

Dear Stores That Close on Thanksgiving,

We all have 80 bazillion Black Friday emails clogging up our inboxes. It's now an official holiday, so named for the day companies go "in the black" and start turning a profit for the year.

To make the most of it, stores once opened at 6am. Then, midnight. A few years ago Walmart upped the ante and said, "Pie is for jerks! WE open the night before!"

And now, that's become the norm.

Let's call it Gray Thursday.

So, today, instead of sitting down to turkey with the fam, lunatics will camp out in parking lots so they can stampede through store doors in desperate search of deals. And stores will staff up to handle the mobs they create.

Old Navy is even giving A MILLION DOLLARS to someone standing on line today when they open at 4pm.

On Thanksgiving.

This is abysmal.

There is one retail trend I actually like. This year, I see lots of stores advertising that they AREN'T open today.  That's as refreshing as the Alka Seltzer you'll surely need after you eat your weight in Stove Top.

I've gotten emails from DSW (see above), Crate & Barrel and Sur la Table all saying, "See you Friday. On Thursday, we feast!"  I've seen commercials for HomeGoods/TJ Maxx/Marshalls with a great message: Bring Back the Holidays.

If I was remotely outdoorsy, I also would have heard from REI.  They have decided they're closed on FRIDAY TOO so people can #optoutside and trade florescent lights and cash registers for sunshine and streams. Or something like that.

And why not?!

After all, there's a little thing called the Internet, which makes it possible to sit at your dining room table and shop in your underwear while gnawing on a turkey leg if that's what your greasy little heart desires.

Seriously, though, who needs to stand in line to elbow grannies out of the way for a "doorbuster" deal on a $5 crockpot, or clothesline a dude to save 80% on a super humongous big screen HDTV from a brand you've never heard?

I love a good sale as much as the next gal, but why would a retailer want me in their store, anyway?

In store I only buy what I can carry. Online, it's what the UPS and FedEx guys can carry. And that's limitless. Well, okaaay, maybe there are SOME limits...

But that's between me and my boyfriend, Amex.

Cyber Monday doesn't even make sense to me anymore.  It all started on a weekday because they thought people's internet connections were faster at work than at home. That's not true anymore. Plus, these deals run all month long. There will ALWAYS be another sale. And they'll keep on running thru Christmas. Until New Years.

We all get whipped up in these artificial demand frenzies. Because let's face it: Retailers are just scared of Amazon.

And they should be.

You might say these stores that can afford to close on Thanksgiving do so because they were never in the game to begin with.  On Black Friday, electronics, clothes, and toys take the cake (and the pumpkin pie).  Last time I checked, these guys sell shoes, and housewares, and canoes. Or whatever REI sells.

But I don't care.

I plan to go online this holiday weekend and throw an extra (wish)bone to the stores that are closed today.  Because they have their wallets AND their hearts in the right place.

Happy Turkey Day to you and yours.  May you eat your taters at a table and not on a line outside Target.

Gobble, gobble!


tags: commercials, holidays, rants

I'm Not Lovin' It

I took the day off on Friday to do one of my favorite things.

I rented a car.

Man, I miss driving! I'm thisclose to buying a new car now that I live outside the city. Not that I really need one... everything here is in walking distance. But I just WANT one.

A car is freedom.

If I know me (and I think I do), I'll hold out until maybe February then pull the trigger. They always have Presidents Day sales. And I believe George Washington would want me to have another BMW.

Anyway, back to my mini roadtrip...

About an hour before my Zipcar was due back, I got hungry. But I didn't have time to stop and eat. So, I did what about a billion other people do every day.

I went to McDonalds.

Why? Large fries always hit the spot. Especially when accompanied by a large orange Hi-C because that is a delicious drink that takes me back to my childhood. Occasionally, I'll mix it up and order a vanilla shake for salty-sweet nirvana. But I ignored about a 168 (yes, I counted!) things on the drive thru menu.

I go to Mickey D's for the fries, just the fries, and nothing but the fries.

I'm sure we've all been reading that the Golden Arches is in trouble. The only fast food restaurant with a bigger mess on their hands is Subway, and don't get me started on THAT.

How can this be?

Here, thankfully (?), declining sales are to blame. I've seen lots of finger pointing (questionable ingredients! health nuts! hot new competition!), and tons of random new ideas (customized menus! pay with love!).

But no real solutions.

Well, listen up, Ronald! The solution is simple: Embrace who you are.

This means 3 things:

1) Understand your customer.
Nobody walks through your doors because they're making good decisions. That ship has sailed. There are a thousand healthier places to get a salad or a wrap. The people who want that for lunch or dinner don't want YOU, and no amount of fat-free dressing will fix that. Your people want fast, filling, cheap eats. So give the people what they want!

2) Stop trying to be fancy.
Ignore Chipotle or Five Guys or whatever other "fast casual" restaurant that some consultant (who doesn't eat your food) recommended that you emulate. This means ditch the Angus burgers and the artisan grilled chicken and the Sriracha mayo and the frappes. Double down on the Dollar Menu.

3) French fries make your world go round.
I don't know how you make your fries. I suspect crack is involved. Because when they're good, they're amazing. Focus on being consistent with them (never stale, always fresh and hot and perfectly salted). Go back to your roots and make them the centerpiece of everything. Every ad. Every menu. Every order. It's not, "Would you like fries with that?"  It's, "What would you like with your fries?" And while you're at it, turn Friday into a social media holiday called Fryday. You're McDonalds -- if you want to own a day of the week, I bet you can.

So, quit clowning around and get down to McBusiness.

Those taters aren't going to fry themselves.


PS: I just heard you're about to launch breakfast all day... now you're talking!


tags: city life, food, rants

Mind the Gap

So, a cool thing happened at work today.

See this pic?  It was taken by a colleague as another colleague of ours (who is a pretty inspiring gal herself) moderated a Town Hall discussion on equal pay with the President.

The President of the United States?

Yep.  We go way back...

Why were we there?  Because yesterday was Equal Pay Day.  Did anyone wish you a happy one?

Probably not.

That's because it takes a woman until April 14th of the following year (an 104 extra days "in the red!") to make what her male colleagues make in 365.  Keep in mind, this is for doing the same work.

Put a different way, on average, a woman earns 78 cents to a man's dollar -- for women of color, it only gets worse. So at the current rate, women won't reach parity until 2058.

Will you still be working then?  As much as I love my job, I certainly won't. You'll find me in a yellow mu-mu on a sandy beach under a very large straw hat drinking an ice-cold glass of Ensure.

Ahhhh.  Smooth.

But even if I do slog it out until I'm 100 and climb all the way up to the C-suite, today only 26 Fortune 500 companies have female CEOs.

That can't be right... right?!

To be clear, I don't believe in my heart of hearts that the companies of the world are actively conspiring against us. I doubt a bunch of old, wrinkly, white dudes sit in a sauna every Tuesday at 2 to joke about how little they can pay their women (except maybe at Goodyear).

I'm really not that cynical.

I DO think that women often start out making (accepting?) less.  And then every single cost of living increase, raise or bonus they EVER receive represents a percentage of that number.

My number was $18K.

That's what I made nearly 20 years ago in my very first job in Parsippany, NJ, as an editorial assistant for a children's textbook company.  And everything I've gotten since then has had to pivot off what was essentially less than a year's tuition.  Back when college was still affordable.

And maybe I'm lucky!  Who knows?  But it was a loooong way to dig out.

So, this is the ONE piece of advice I give to every intern I meet: Get the most you can when you graduate, because that starting salary will factor into the rest of your career.

Now, people definitely dispute the 78 cents disparity.  They say it's because women make choices to focus on family or education to achieve that elusive (impossible?) work-life balance.  And that means they work less hours, so it's inherently not equal work and shouldn't be compensated as such.

Is that true?

Well, I can't speak for ALL women, but for THIS woman, who isn't making "choices" and IS betting everything on her career, I can think of no less than 3 companies I've worked for in the past where I was paid less and/or given less opportunity for advancement than my equally non-choosy (yet skilled, educated, and hard-working) male colleagues.

Equal pay SHOULD be for equal work! I'm not entitled to it, I EARN it every day. And I suspect you do, too.

But look at the positioning of the Town Hall today: Obama talks to Mommy Bloggers. Grrrr...

Sidenote: Not sure who decided that a female + a blog = the ultra-patronizing nickname "mommy blogger." Wait, did I have kids and I forgot?  No, seriously. I even looked under the couch cushions.  No kids here!

(And yes, that makes me sad, but that's a whoooole other discussion.)

My point is that woman doesn't always equal mom. (Does anyone call guys "daddy bloggers?" No, we don't, because it's dumb).  And yet, most of the discussion on equal pay centers around how does it impact women and their families?

It's an interesting nuance, I think.

I feel like, as women, we don’t often allow ourselves to ask for things solely because they benefit us – especially at work -- be it equal pay, a raise, a promotion, or a day off.  It needs to be qualified in some way.  Necessary to support your kids, or for some other greater good, rather than because WE went to school and we work hard and we earned it.

For ourselves.

Now, if you're still reading and are unconvinced this is a pretty serious issue, I've saved the best/worst for last.  Go ahead and plunk your age and salary into this lost earnings calculator (and fellas, don't feel left out here -- if your lady makes less, so do you).

Thanks, Gap Inc., for advancing the discussion on equal pay -- how fitting!  I will put my money where your pants are.

Then maybe someday, old bran flakes over here can afford to buy that house on the beach.


So, what say YOU?  Is the pay gap a genuine thing?  Or a gimmick?  Share your 2 cents below...


tags: politics, rants, work

Dear Ikea,

We had some sweet times together, didn't we?

Remember how I frolicked through the long, winding aisles of your stores in Elizabeth and Paramus, leaving no corner or unpronounceable product unexplored?  Recall, those cozy afternoons spent between the pages of your glossy annual catalog?  Think back to the days I lovingly assembled Markor, Hemnes, Billy, Ingolf, Lack, and some other guys I can't remember the names of?

I think I still have the wrenches.

Well, Ikea, it pains me to say it, but I'm through with you!  Our 20-year love affair is O-V-E-R. 

You're dumped. 

It all started innocently enough.  Back in August, I was looking for a few more pieces of furniture for my new apartment, and of course I went straight to you.  Why wouldn't I?  You're economical, stylish, durable (I've moved 6x!), and I take a special pride in building furniture with my own two hands. 

You make me feel like the Swedish lovechild of Michelangelo, IM Pei, and Frank Lloyd Wright!

But since I needed 2 dressers for the bedroom PLUS a console for the foyer AND a desk/decorative cabinet for the living/dining room, I figured a solo trip to the store with a rented van was ill-advised.  So, I decided to order online and go for the convenient home delivery service you promote everywhere.

Mistake #1.

First, no matter how many times I visit your site, you never remember that I'm in the US.  Why?  That's pretty basic info, easily cookied.  Ok, maybe you want me to work for it.  So I clicked around and found about $900 worth of furniture, that I whittled down to $400 (aka a dresser and a desk) in an effort to be sensible.

(You should also know your online shopping experience was a bit clunky and Ask Anna is totally useless.)

I went to checkout, and added another $100 for home delivery bringing my total to roughly $500.  I entered my credit card.  I chose a delivery date (September 2nd, a Tuesday).  I got a confirmation number.  AND an email!  Great, I thought.  My furniture was on the way. 

Then, I waited.

Mistake #2.

The whole week passed and no delivery. So on that Friday morning I phoned you.  I got bounced around from post-sales to pre-sales and back to post only to find out I really needed to speak with the fraud department.  Apparently, my order had been flagged -- though nobody bothered to send an email, or make a call, or fling an ABBA record at my head to let me know. 

How could I have a confirmation number AND delivery date if this order was flagged as fraud?

(And don't even get me STARTED on all these hackers ripping off our credit card numbers. C'mon, gigantic banks and big box stores... get it together.  Some scruffy joker with an Acer he grabbed from a dumpster behind Radio Shack is eating your lunch.  And mine.)

Anyway, this Scooby Doo riddle took 45 minutes, which made me late for work, so I couldn't hop into the Mystery Machine to figure it out.  She offered to call me back.

I said ok.

Mistake #3.

Obviously, nobody called.  Which is baffling to me!  Was that bozo Anna hogging the phone again?  Nobody in your WHOLE company feels like following up on a $500 order?  Is the road to riches SO paved with Swedish meatballs and lingonberry sauce that you don't really NEED my money?

You played hard to get, which is my Achilles heel (you know me so well). A week later, I called customer service.  AGAIN.

Mistake #4.

I went down the automated path and got disconnected.  Twice.

Et tu, Ikea?

Eventually, I spoke to someone, who verified that yes, I had placed an order.  But she was predictably unconcerned that said order was languishing in this Bermuda Triangle between a confirmation number, a delivery date and a fake fraud flag.  And apparently the crack accounting team was once again hard at work because nobody could come to the phone. 

At this point, I told you to keep your furniture where the midnight sun don't shine.

Since then, I went to Amazon.  And Overstock.  And bought all 4 pieces of furniture.  With FREE shipping.  For the price of 81 sacks of frozen Kottbullar (also known as $700).

See ya never, Ingvar Kamprad.  I'm getting my Allen wenches elsewhere.

Signed,
Your Former #1 Furniture Fan


tags: rants, shopping

You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry...

Well, today's my birthday.  And guess what?  A wish came true!  Turns out, I don't actually have Rheumatoid Arthritis!

Instead I have loads more horrible stuff. 

I won't bore you with all the nitty gritty deets, but basically my body is attacking my muscles, and my lungs and liver are inflamed.  My joints just got caught in the crossfire.

So, after 50+ blood tests, x-rays, cat scans, an allergic reaction to a malaria drug, and a couple of months where I've been sicker than I've ever been (x10), I finally have a diagnosis everybody agrees on. 

I think. 

And some meds.

Five days ago, I started on steroids.  Like the maximum amount any human can take to try and knock this shit out of my body. 

I'll be on overdrive for at least a month, and then they'll taper it down over the next few months after that. Then, the immunosuppressants kick in. This, of course, is very bad for you and has lots of fun side effects including gaining weight. 

Nobody can tell me if this will actually fix things (silly rabbit).  Maybe it will go into remission, or maybe I'll have flare-ups forever. It's anybody's guess. 

For now, it's the meds. 

So, I'm dealing with it the best way I know how -- through self-deprecating humor.  I've given this some serious thought.  If given the choice of how to handle my personal brand of  'Roid Rage, I'd prefer to channel the 70's-style Bill Bixby/Lou Ferrigno Incredible Hulk with those bad blue contacts, spotty green body paint, and torn up cut-off jean shorts. 

Now, when I bulk out and Hulk out, you'll know why.

Before I go stomp on a village, just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reached out to me recently.  Your comments, texts, emails, phone calls, lunches, dinners, and hugs have warmed my little green heart.


tags: health, holidays, rants

Dear Rheumatoid Arthritis,

We first met 9 years ago when my mom got sick and you've interfered with my family's health and happiness ever since. 

Now, you're knocking on MY door?!

Well guess what?  I'm moving.

(No really, I am moving -- more on that in the coming weeks.)

I knew it was only a matter of time before we met face to face, but it's pretty shitty that you've shown up when I'm just 40 years old. 

You know I've always expressed myself with my hands. So, it's a low blow to make my fingers so inflamed that I can't properly hold a pen or open a bottle of water -- let alone type or cook.  I also can't wear my rings or bracelets or watch.

The last 6 weeks have brought a pain that's difficult to describe.  Shooting cramps from my shoulder to my elbow as I shower.  Aching in my ankles when I step off a curb on my walk to work.  Stiffness in my jaw when I try to eat a sandwich at lunch.  The most basic things have become pretty difficult. 

You are a sneaky little coward who likes to jump from joint to joint -- hiding in my wrists one minute, my knees the next, my knuckles right after that. 

And I'm left feeling weak and swollen from head to toe, like I just got a beat down from the inside out.

Nighttime is worse than the days.  I slept like a baby until YOU showed up.  Now I'm up every 20 minutes (also, like a baby?) and I've seen every late night infomercial ever filmed.  It's a special kind of torture to be laying in bed and not have the strength in your arm to reach the remote to change the channel.  So I watch.  And I listen. 

Most are total junk, but I think I actually will buy a Shark vacuum. 

That just makes good sense.

Of course, I eventually had to go in for an official diagnosis. I wasn't fooling around, I went straight to NYU.  They took so much blood, I'm surprised I had any left. Then came the tests and x-rays and NSAIDs and steroids, and who knows what's next? 

Oh, wait... I do!  Because I've been living through it with my mom for years.

My doctor says I'm in the early stages of something that has no cure.  Most of the medicines that keep the symptoms at bay have potential side effects that are worse than the disease. Plus, they lower your immune system so you can catch all sorts of rotten stuff.  Oh, and forget about having kids, unless you like serious birth defects.

Hey, salt... meet wound!  Now rub.

So far I've found just 3 good things about this awful mess:
1) I tested negative for scarier things like Lupus, Psoriasis, MS and Hepatitis.
2) I can't use my hands, so my nails look totes amazing.
3) I can't put on pants, so I've been wearing dresses which makes me look much fancier than I feel.

But guess what?  Even though I can't make a fist, I'm NOT going out like this. 

There's a showdown in my joints and I'm pulling out ALL the stops.  Medicine is just the tip of the iceberg.  I'll go gluten free, or do yoga, or transcendental meditation, or get acupuncture, or do the hokey pokey if it helps keep YOU in my rearview.

FU, RA. Lose my number.  You're not welcome in my home.

Unfondly,
Your #1 Enemy


tags: health, rants

This Girl Is Bossy

I'm pretty sure this is the longest I've ever gone without writing a blog post.  (Cough.)  I'm so sorry, I've just been working really long hours lately and honestly, I haven't felt all that creative. 

But then I remembered, I love to blog! 

So here I am.

One of the things I've been working on is a campaign inspired by Sheryl Sandberg of Harvard, Lean In and Facebook fame -- she also recently became a billionaire (underachiever). She teamed up with the Girl Scouts to encourage girls to lead by banning the word "bossy" because it's belittling and sends a message that they shouldn't speak up.

Maybe you've heard of this?

Well, nobody can argue with wanting to empower young girls to be their best, but I think banning any word gives it way more power than it deserves. Plus, you can't ban ALL the words, right?  First bossy, then bratty, then bitchy. 

It doesn't end.

What you CAN do is get girls (and boys!) talking.  Give them the support and tools to handle whatever comes their way.  So, we made this video:



Aren't they great?!

As you know, I absolutely love doing stuff with kids, and seeing these 8 and 9 year old girls speak their minds reminded me of myself.  So I dug up this old photo of me at their age.

(Note the Wonder Woman bathing suit.  It was 1981 and she was awesome.  Still is.)

Back then, I was labeled a "social butterfly" by my teachers.  My parents thought I was a bit of a ham.  And yes, my little brother probably thought I was kinda bossy.  But he loves me anyway.

I'm sure over the years I have been called lots of things -- some good, some not. As a matter of fact, when I was a senior in college, a grown man once said, "God help the man who marries YOU," because I refused to leave his travel agency until he refunded my money (and the money of my 5 other girlfriends) after he overbooked our Spring Break trip to South Padre Island.  He cut a check that day.

Come to think of it, the old goat may have put a curse on me...

Bygones.

Point is this: Bossy is in the eye of the beholder.  This label -- or any label -- sometimes says more about the person using it than it does about the person they are trying to stick it on.  The trick is to stay true to yourself.

And those bossy tendencies?  They can be used for good!  Like, to stand up for someone, or to take charge of a situation, or to right a wrong. 

To be the boss.  Just like Springsteen.

So, what do YOU think?

I mean, I'm not the boss of you, but if I were I'd tell you to ask your kids what bossy means to them and upload a video to the social network of your choice using #BossyIs.

Or you could just show me pics of yourself in a superhero suit.  I'd like that too!


tags: family, jersey, rants, work