AT&T smacks you with a $300 cell phone bill.
I really thought it was a joke. Like, "Hahaha! Jacque! Look at that! We took bets in accounts receivable as to whether this would be what caused you to stroke out."
I almost stroked out, but sure enough, it's all mine. Since I moved out on my own, the cell phone's the only means of telephonic communication I have. Which means if you're calling me, and you're not an AT&T customer, and you're calling be before 9 p.m. eastern, I'm paying for it.
Like $300 paying for it.
GAH.
So I called to check, and sure enough, I'm guilty. I kept hoping it really was just some sort of funny little mixup I could laugh at later while, naturally, calling someone who isn't an AT&T customer during the day.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Halloweenis
Just a couple of pictures to get everybody in the "scaring the crap out of people" spirit! The picture above shows the pumpkins we carved prior to Danny's murder mystery party. Michelle (Danny's fiance) did the very intricate on the far left. She had a pattern and definitely put more work into this than most of us! The pirate ship is Danny's. The spider is Julie's. The pumpkin on the far right is one done by Michelle's 13-year-old daughter, Jordan. The extremely elementary happy pumpkin second from the right is mine. I'm not good at patience. Or pumpkin carving. But my pumpkin is happy.
In this picture, Sara, dressed as a gym teacher, and me, dressed as a Steelers cheerleader, ponder a clue in Danny's murder mystery. I'm more or less pondering where I put down my drink. But the clue was pretty tough. It's a shame that I knew beforehand who one of the killers was and I was just trying to not ruin it for everybody ... well, at least right away. Then I started being Little Miss Gamekiller.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Follow up file: I'd f-ing kill him.
In today's edition of the best newspaper ever -- the New York Post -- they ran a follow up article to yesterday's Amy Fisher news.
In this latest article, Lou ... Remember Lou?
You know.
Lou.
And you shouldn't trust Lou because:
1. His name is Lou.
2. Hair!
3. Sunglasses.
Anyway ...
Lou says he regrets hawking their bedroom vids in anger. He was just mad that Amy was seeing Joey again (which, OK, I'm FOR you on that, Lou, I really am!) so he acted out in anger and decided that the only thing that would make him feel better during a divorce from a notorious woman would be cash and fringe fame.
Here's where I get real pissed ...
It's bad enough he sold it to a distributor. It's even worse that they got back together shortly thereafter and he didn't tell her about it UNTIL A MONTH OR SO AGO.
"I did it out of the heat of anger and passion," Bellera told The Post.
"We were estranged. She was seeing Joey. I was seething about the whole thing. It just came to a point where I was hurt and embarrassed by it . . . and it pressed the wrong button. I just used that as a vehicle to strike back at her."
You know what I'd use as my vehicle to strike back at you, Lou? A Sherman tank. With a big, giant, sharp, pointy knife on the end.
Fisher said she was willing to forgive her husband.
"We've been together for so many years and have had so many ups and downs," she said. ". . . I don't want to see it. It's better for me if I just don't think about it. I'm just going to hide in my house."
Amy, you're a better woman than I am. That man would be bleeding in the front yard in a few hundred pieces if I would have been on the receiving end of that. But, I'm hoping you take away a few lessons from this.
1. Videotape nothing ever, ever again. Lou hoses you once, Lou will hose you again.
2. Never underestimate guilt as a weapon.
3. You are totally in the clear to be as bad as you want for pretty much the rest of your life. If you're called out on it, you clearly have the response of, "Yeah, well, at least I didn't sell our sex tape."
Siiiiigh.
In this latest article, Lou ... Remember Lou?
You know.Lou.
And you shouldn't trust Lou because:
1. His name is Lou.
2. Hair!
3. Sunglasses.
Anyway ...
Lou says he regrets hawking their bedroom vids in anger. He was just mad that Amy was seeing Joey again (which, OK, I'm FOR you on that, Lou, I really am!) so he acted out in anger and decided that the only thing that would make him feel better during a divorce from a notorious woman would be cash and fringe fame.
Here's where I get real pissed ...
It's bad enough he sold it to a distributor. It's even worse that they got back together shortly thereafter and he didn't tell her about it UNTIL A MONTH OR SO AGO.
"I did it out of the heat of anger and passion," Bellera told The Post.
"We were estranged. She was seeing Joey. I was seething about the whole thing. It just came to a point where I was hurt and embarrassed by it . . . and it pressed the wrong button. I just used that as a vehicle to strike back at her."
You know what I'd use as my vehicle to strike back at you, Lou? A Sherman tank. With a big, giant, sharp, pointy knife on the end.
Fisher said she was willing to forgive her husband.
"We've been together for so many years and have had so many ups and downs," she said. ". . . I don't want to see it. It's better for me if I just don't think about it. I'm just going to hide in my house."
Amy, you're a better woman than I am. That man would be bleeding in the front yard in a few hundred pieces if I would have been on the receiving end of that. But, I'm hoping you take away a few lessons from this.
1. Videotape nothing ever, ever again. Lou hoses you once, Lou will hose you again.
2. Never underestimate guilt as a weapon.
3. You are totally in the clear to be as bad as you want for pretty much the rest of your life. If you're called out on it, you clearly have the response of, "Yeah, well, at least I didn't sell our sex tape."
Siiiiigh.
OK, Jesus. You win.
My co-workers were going out for lunch, so I asked them to bring me back some wings, celery and ranch. One of them suggested I get the wings plain, and the sauce on the side so they don't get soggy.
When they got here, my wings were here. My celery was here. My ranch was here.
There was no wing sauce in a separate container. Nothing.
Plain wings. No sauce.
Siiiigh.
Jesus is boldfaced. Period. End of story.
When they got here, my wings were here. My celery was here. My ranch was here.
There was no wing sauce in a separate container. Nothing.
Plain wings. No sauce.
Siiiigh.
Jesus is boldfaced. Period. End of story.
I couldn't work anywhere else
My paper does this thing (that I don't love) that involves bolding proper names. People, businesses, etc. It's supposed to be done to enhance readability and because people who love themselves love not only seeing their names, but seeing their names in bold print.
This, however, has led to a continual debate over what gets bolded and what doesn't. Beth did a great job trying to come up with a styleguide for it, but questions still pop up.
Today:
"Do we bold Jesus?"
I came back into the room in the middle of the discussion, so they decided to ask me.
"Jacque!! Do we bold Jesus?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"You won't bold Punxsutawney Phil, you're not bolding Jesus."
At which point Stirewalt jumps in and says, "But Jesus was a real person. He walked the earth. That can't be disputed."
Nobody seemed to buy into my belief that Punxsutawney Phil is real.
I eventually had to rule that in light of supporting evidence, Jesus is boldfaced.
I'm hopeful this prevents me from getting hit and killed by a piece of falling blue ice from a plane landing at Yeager today.
Also, today at work I learned that caffeine can mess up your prostate.
(Note to self: Be thankful you don't have a prostate!)
This, however, has led to a continual debate over what gets bolded and what doesn't. Beth did a great job trying to come up with a styleguide for it, but questions still pop up.
Today:
"Do we bold Jesus?"
I came back into the room in the middle of the discussion, so they decided to ask me.
"Jacque!! Do we bold Jesus?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"You won't bold Punxsutawney Phil, you're not bolding Jesus."
At which point Stirewalt jumps in and says, "But Jesus was a real person. He walked the earth. That can't be disputed."
Nobody seemed to buy into my belief that Punxsutawney Phil is real.
I eventually had to rule that in light of supporting evidence, Jesus is boldfaced.
I'm hopeful this prevents me from getting hit and killed by a piece of falling blue ice from a plane landing at Yeager today.
Also, today at work I learned that caffeine can mess up your prostate.
(Note to self: Be thankful you don't have a prostate!)
The results are in: We're children of the '80s
In last week's blog poll, I asked:
If you could live in any time period, what would it be?
Here's how you voted:
Like, omigod, the '80s. — 58 percent (7 votes)
I'd kick it in the '90s. — 33 percent (4 votes)
Peace, man. I'm a '60s kid. — (GOOSE EGG!!)
Break out the disco! It's 'the 70s. — 8 percent (1 vote)
It almost makes me want to get my leg warmers out! That and the fact that it's 10 degrees in my office. God!!!
If you could live in any time period, what would it be?
Here's how you voted:
Like, omigod, the '80s. — 58 percent (7 votes)
I'd kick it in the '90s. — 33 percent (4 votes)
Peace, man. I'm a '60s kid. — (GOOSE EGG!!)
Break out the disco! It's 'the 70s. — 8 percent (1 vote)
It almost makes me want to get my leg warmers out! That and the fact that it's 10 degrees in my office. God!!!
Monday, October 29, 2007
7 p.m. update: I'm still at work.
As the God clock ticks well past my eleventh hour here today, I'm comforted by these words of wisdom from this wise, wise man:
"Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."
Sleeping with the enemy
OK, my love of Amy Fisher is both mocked and legendary. If Amy Fisher would call me tonight, I'd hang out with her this weekend. We could go to the strip mall, get our nails did, have some Italian food and polish off a bottle or two of pinot noir ... I really think we could be friends.
Meet my new enemy. This is Lou. Lou is Amy's husband.
Reasons to not trust Lou:
1. His name is Lou.
2. Look at that hair.
3. Those sunglasses.
But I digress.
Lou and Amy were in the midst of a fun divorce. Granted, it probably didn't help Amy much when she and Joey rekindled their Long Island love story for about 38 minutes this past summer, but after cooler heads and sobriety prevailed, Amy and Joey both went back to their respective spouses.
But according to today's edition of the New York Post, Lou took matters into his own hands. He was going to do divorce the American way. And as we all know, in America the one thing that can ease all pain and suffering is ...
Money!! Lots of it.
Lou and Amy, as wacky, in love, married couples tend to do, made themselves a video memento of their passion. Lou, scorned man that he was, decided to take revenge against his then-estranged wife by ... selling it.
But Lou didn't really think it through ... they got back together. And this company owns the tape.
That's gonna make the holidays a little awkward around the Bellara house.
That's right, kids. Now you, too, can own the Amy Fisher sex tape.
Here's the story from the Post:
October 29, 2007 -- The world soon could be seeing more of the Long Island Lolita - a lot more.
A sex tape of Amy Fisher and her husband, Lou Bellera, is in the hands of a Los Angeles porn distributor, and the onetime teen temptress isn't happy about it, her former business partner said yesterday.
Fisher and her husband apparently made the tape earlier this year, before they filed for divorce, according to David Krieff, a TV executive who has produced reunion specials with Fisher, her ex-lover Joey Buttafuoco and Buttafuoco's ex-wife, Mary Jo Buttafuoco.
But in the time Fisher and her hubby were in Splitsville, Bellera hawked the tape to L.A. smut peddler Red Light District Video, which is expected to start selling their steamy footage next month.
"I was told she was a willing participant at the time it was made, as a private video with her husband," Krieff said.
It wasn't until August that Fisher, who has since reconciled with Bellera, learned of the Red Light deal and wants to stop the video's release.
"She's disgusted," Krieff said. "I'm disgusted by it, too, the whole genre. I can't believe in the United States of America things like this can be released.
"I feel bad for Amy and Lou," Krieff added. "I think they were having a fight and he made a bad decision that's coming back to haunt them now."
A bad decision? To me, a bad decision is eating Chinese food from a place called "Wok and Roll." A bad decision is seeing any movie with Christian Slater. A bad decision was the third "Major League" movie.
I'm not sure I could forgive him for this. If I were hanging out with Amy tonight, I'd tell her to send his goldbricking ass packing. I'd buy her some chianti and we'd rent DVDs and paint our toenails. She doesn't need Lou. She doesn't need any guy who'd do that.
But the lessons to be learned?
1. Videotape NOTHING. It's not a good idea. It's never a good idea. There is not a single shred of good in anything like that being videotaped.
2. Write nothing down.
3. Deny. Deny. Deny.
And don't date dudes named Lou with hair like that.
Meet my new enemy. This is Lou. Lou is Amy's husband.
Reasons to not trust Lou:
1. His name is Lou.
2. Look at that hair.
3. Those sunglasses.
But I digress.
Lou and Amy were in the midst of a fun divorce. Granted, it probably didn't help Amy much when she and Joey rekindled their Long Island love story for about 38 minutes this past summer, but after cooler heads and sobriety prevailed, Amy and Joey both went back to their respective spouses.
But according to today's edition of the New York Post, Lou took matters into his own hands. He was going to do divorce the American way. And as we all know, in America the one thing that can ease all pain and suffering is ...
Money!! Lots of it.
Lou and Amy, as wacky, in love, married couples tend to do, made themselves a video memento of their passion. Lou, scorned man that he was, decided to take revenge against his then-estranged wife by ... selling it.
But Lou didn't really think it through ... they got back together. And this company owns the tape.
That's gonna make the holidays a little awkward around the Bellara house.
That's right, kids. Now you, too, can own the Amy Fisher sex tape.
Here's the story from the Post:
October 29, 2007 -- The world soon could be seeing more of the Long Island Lolita - a lot more.
A sex tape of Amy Fisher and her husband, Lou Bellera, is in the hands of a Los Angeles porn distributor, and the onetime teen temptress isn't happy about it, her former business partner said yesterday.
Fisher and her husband apparently made the tape earlier this year, before they filed for divorce, according to David Krieff, a TV executive who has produced reunion specials with Fisher, her ex-lover Joey Buttafuoco and Buttafuoco's ex-wife, Mary Jo Buttafuoco.
But in the time Fisher and her hubby were in Splitsville, Bellera hawked the tape to L.A. smut peddler Red Light District Video, which is expected to start selling their steamy footage next month.
"I was told she was a willing participant at the time it was made, as a private video with her husband," Krieff said.
It wasn't until August that Fisher, who has since reconciled with Bellera, learned of the Red Light deal and wants to stop the video's release.
"She's disgusted," Krieff said. "I'm disgusted by it, too, the whole genre. I can't believe in the United States of America things like this can be released.
"I feel bad for Amy and Lou," Krieff added. "I think they were having a fight and he made a bad decision that's coming back to haunt them now."
A bad decision? To me, a bad decision is eating Chinese food from a place called "Wok and Roll." A bad decision is seeing any movie with Christian Slater. A bad decision was the third "Major League" movie.
I'm not sure I could forgive him for this. If I were hanging out with Amy tonight, I'd tell her to send his goldbricking ass packing. I'd buy her some chianti and we'd rent DVDs and paint our toenails. She doesn't need Lou. She doesn't need any guy who'd do that.
But the lessons to be learned?
1. Videotape NOTHING. It's not a good idea. It's never a good idea. There is not a single shred of good in anything like that being videotaped.
2. Write nothing down.
3. Deny. Deny. Deny.
And don't date dudes named Lou with hair like that.
Monday Morning Shoutouts
Here are a few blogs I recommend you check out this week:
WVU Blog by Mike Casazza (Sports commentary that's intelligent)
Ninja of the Mundane (Jim's blog ... this guy puts it all together like a tasty sandwich)
This Side of Patty O (Congratulate the Sox fan on his sweet World Series!!)
The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks (Plain hilarious ... especially for journo-geeks.)
(If you've got a suggestion, send them my way. I'm happy to love all, serve all ... just like those kids at the Hard Rock Cafe.)
WVU Blog by Mike Casazza (Sports commentary that's intelligent)
Ninja of the Mundane (Jim's blog ... this guy puts it all together like a tasty sandwich)
This Side of Patty O (Congratulate the Sox fan on his sweet World Series!!)
The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks (Plain hilarious ... especially for journo-geeks.)
(If you've got a suggestion, send them my way. I'm happy to love all, serve all ... just like those kids at the Hard Rock Cafe.)
This morning's entry is brough to you by Erinn
And the words:
Manscaping
Man tan
And:
"I just snorted like a pig."
Manscaping
Man tan
And:
"I just snorted like a pig."
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Thank you, head cold from hell.
The last 12 hours of my life I just lost are brought to you by NyQuil, the nighttime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, YOU ARE SO GOING INTO A COMA so you can rest medicine.
I fell asleep last night watching "Fatal Attraction" on HBO 2 for the millionth time. I was chatting online with babes (Julie, as she toiled away on her masters, and Jim, as he was working away as the editing badass he is) and when I wrapped up I just sort of lay back on the couch, covered up and the next thing I remember is 7:23 when Inky decided to engage the boxes by the stairs in battle. Of course, after that woke me up and she noticed I was disturubed, she curled up by the couch and started purring. F-ing cat. She's staring at me now as I write this because she knows I'm talking about her.
My friend Ben and I are planning a vacation for December. Somewhere tropical. I think we both are due. We've both had a lot of changes this year. He's buying his first home in the Miami, Fla., area and I've just kind of had a rough year. Traveling's expensive. I'm going to be on the "plain spaghetti and water" meal plan after it's over to pay off the credit card I put this trip on.
He made the offhand comment, "I need to get into beach shape." Yeah, pal. Me too. It isn't so much that I'm getting fat, I just need to get it under control. I've been "adjusting" for a month now, and now it's over. I'm adjusted. I need to get my ass to the grocery store and buy food I should be eating, not food I want because it's tasty and I'm lazy.
Maybe that's what I'll do today when I get off the couch. I'm NyQuil hungover and Food Network's on. I may not move until I start getting ready for the show at 8. I'm going to "perimeter shop" when I go -- I will avoid at most costs the center aisles of the store where delicious things like salt and vinegar chips live.
It's 40 minutes until the Steelers and Jeff hasn't called yet to hang out. He must be more hung over than I am. And at least he had a good time doing it.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
It's happened. I'm old.
I've spent most of the day building furniture from Wal-Mart and listening to the adult contemporary station.
Well, except for the few hours of Mountaineer domination.
When did I get old? I used to be young. Now I'm old. I want to wear sweatpants and read rather than go out.
Weird. Things like that hit you quickly. But at least I've got some Holland Oates on the radio. Hahaha ... :)
Well, except for the few hours of Mountaineer domination.
When did I get old? I used to be young. Now I'm old. I want to wear sweatpants and read rather than go out.
Weird. Things like that hit you quickly. But at least I've got some Holland Oates on the radio. Hahaha ... :)
Friday, October 26, 2007
It's funny 'cause it's true
Julie sent me this video this morning, and it cracked me up. The cat in this cartoon is totally Miss Cleo, my cat who lives in my old house. I miss her a whole lot. She's always kind of ill-tempered, but I love that about her.
My friend Philip just got a cat. He should get ready for this.
My friend Philip just got a cat. He should get ready for this.
First Song Friday (10-26-07)
Another week where "best" is a theme ... this one comes to us courtesy of Styx, and Mix 100.9 Charleston.
(... sigh. Styx.)
The Best Of Times
Tonight's the night we'll make history
Honey
you and I.
'Cos I'll take any risk
To tie back the hands of time
And stay with you here tonight.
I know you feel these are the worst of times
I do believe it's true.
When people lock their doors and hide inside
Rumor has it
it's the end of Paradise.
But I know if the world just passed us by
Baby
I know
I wouldn't have to cry. No
no.
The best of times are when I'm alone with you
Some rain
some shine
We'll make this a world for two.
Our memories of yesterday
Will last a lifetime.
We'll take the best
forget the rest
And someday we'll find
These are the best of times.
These are the best of times.
The headlines read:
These are the worst of times
I do believe it's true.
I feel so helpless like a boat against the tide
I wish the summer wind could bring back Paradise
But I know
If the world turned upside down
Baby
I know
You'd always be around. My
my.
The best of times are when I'm alone with you
When I'm alone with you
Everything's alright.
When I'm alone with you
You brighten up the night.
Well, it's not "Come Sail Away" ... and the song that followed it up was "My Life" by Billy Joel, which is far better.
Am I the only one who thinks this song kind of sounds like "Night Man" from "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"? :)
(... sigh. Styx.)
The Best Of Times
Tonight's the night we'll make history
Honey
you and I.
'Cos I'll take any risk
To tie back the hands of time
And stay with you here tonight.
I know you feel these are the worst of times
I do believe it's true.
When people lock their doors and hide inside
Rumor has it
it's the end of Paradise.
But I know if the world just passed us by
Baby
I know
I wouldn't have to cry. No
no.
The best of times are when I'm alone with you
Some rain
some shine
We'll make this a world for two.
Our memories of yesterday
Will last a lifetime.
We'll take the best
forget the rest
And someday we'll find
These are the best of times.
These are the best of times.
The headlines read:
These are the worst of times
I do believe it's true.
I feel so helpless like a boat against the tide
I wish the summer wind could bring back Paradise
But I know
If the world turned upside down
Baby
I know
You'd always be around. My
my.
The best of times are when I'm alone with you
When I'm alone with you
Everything's alright.
When I'm alone with you
You brighten up the night.
Well, it's not "Come Sail Away" ... and the song that followed it up was "My Life" by Billy Joel, which is far better.
Am I the only one who thinks this song kind of sounds like "Night Man" from "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"? :)
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I'll take "Self-fulfilling" for $500, Alex
I went out to lunch today with Julie. When I got back to my office's parking lot, the box with my remaining peanut noodles popped open and went everywhere. Not only did I lose my leftovers, the Camry is going to reek of peanut for the rest of its life.
I'm also sure I'm getting a cold. I've done nothing but sneeze today.
Damn you, Bon Jovi. Damn you.
I'm also sure I'm getting a cold. I've done nothing but sneeze today.
Damn you, Bon Jovi. Damn you.
I'm in for it ...
When the song that wakes you up is "I'll Be There For You" by Bon Jovi, I think that's God's special way of telling you that you're about to have a really, really bad day.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
I want this girl to get run over
I saw this on FARK.com and immediately wished something really, really bad would happen to her:
Guest Column: Sorry, but this bikini stays on
By: Stacy Jacobson
Posted: 10/18/07
The Playboy Big Ten edition has come to Evanston. I'm sure by now you've read the news story about the NU casting calls, or you've heard your friends talking about it over lunch. They might say how "no one at Northwestern would ever do that," or how Playboy is insulting the integrity of NU students.
In the past, I've been asked if I ever would do Playboy (I've also been asked if I'd ever get a breast reduction). My answer will always be a firm "no." I believe in the sanctity of nudity and the idea that it's between only you and another - not any pre-pubescent boy locked in a bathroom looking through his father's stash. But I couldn't turn a chance at journalism down, just to get a taste of the other side (without that side being full frontal).
When I told my mother, she shrieked, "What?!" I assured her my morals were intact, and that it was only for a newspaper commentary. She said, "OK, but I'm not telling your father."
After registering online, the producer, Cynthia, called me. I was to come to the Hilton Garden Inn on Maple Avenue bearing a bikini and heels (classy, huh?). Later, her innocent Chicago accent and eagerness to meet me would reveal a maternal instinct as she sweet-talked me into taking provocative photos. Nice.
In preparation, I decided on a turquoise bohemian print two-piece I'd ordered from Victoria's Secret. My mind filled with questions. Do I want drastic hair and make-up? Will I look tacky? Is it even possible to be Playboy chic?
On the morning of the interview, I faced the mirror. To match my suit and to emphasize the overdone vibe, I lined my eyes with a blue-green pencil. I applied navy and green eye shadows that looked surprisingly natural (I'm not used to this va-va-voom stuff). To finish, I put on long, dangling silver earrings.
Down Sheridan Road I went, in my terry-cloth sweats, gray T-shirt and made-up face. While carrying my school bag with my four-subject notebook and a globalization case study on one arm, I lugged a plastic CVS bag holding my bikini and taupe sling backs on the other.
Once there, I realized the room Cynthia so calmly offered me was a private suite rather than a banquet room. Things just got creepier.
I filled out forms and changed in the bedroom before Rudi, the photographer, entered. The usual boy-on-the-beach gawk I often get - it starts at my boobs and sometimes makes its way to my eyes - was absent. Instead, he mentioned my interest in sports. So, as I stood there in a triangle bikini and near-five inch heels, I gushed to him about my love for the Baltimore Ravens.
We shot about 10 poses. Rudi told me to place my hand on my hip, or lean against the wall and continuously chanted "smile big." Transferring to the bed seemed risqué, but I first just sat on my knees with my hands on my hips. The next pose, though, involved my body facing the wall as my head peered around at the camera. That one hit me. I wasn't just smiling at a camera. I was twisted into an unnatural position to try to tempt someone with my body. That's not me.
Yesterday, Cynthia called. Apparently, the Chicago offices "love" me and are offering me $1,500 for a full shoot Saturday. In her recurrent maternal tone, she told me how "cute" I am and how excited the head photographer sounded.
Each time I listened to her praises, I couldn't help but giggle. It all seemed funny to me! I'm just a 19-year-old girl, and I don't feel different than thousands of others at NU. In a college environment, we face sexuality issues everyday.
Long ago, I drew my line before pornography. But what about modeling in general? Does a seductive pose in a bra catalogue demean women in the same way? Is it solely the male reaction to different photos that determines acceptability?
I liked my body before the shoot, and I like my body now. I don't need Playboy to tell me they like it to make me like it. I could never use Playboy as the basis of my self-esteem.
So I guess this delves into the mind set of somebody who does pose for Playboy. Maybe she wants fame. Maybe she has likes having an international audience for her body. Maybe it gives her confidence. That's fine, and I respect her. Who am I to judge?
Yes, there are girls among us, just like at other schools, who would pose for Playboy. They'll also graduate from NU with degrees. Females can do what they want with their bodies. So if I wanted to be the next Playboy star, I guess I could consider NU my launching pad. I plan, however, to go elsewhere. I still need to call Cynthia to deliver the news. NU is launching me into a world of clothed, professional journalism.
... I really am speechless. I think I'll just let it go for itself.
Guest Column: Sorry, but this bikini stays on
By: Stacy Jacobson
Posted: 10/18/07
The Playboy Big Ten edition has come to Evanston. I'm sure by now you've read the news story about the NU casting calls, or you've heard your friends talking about it over lunch. They might say how "no one at Northwestern would ever do that," or how Playboy is insulting the integrity of NU students.
In the past, I've been asked if I ever would do Playboy (I've also been asked if I'd ever get a breast reduction). My answer will always be a firm "no." I believe in the sanctity of nudity and the idea that it's between only you and another - not any pre-pubescent boy locked in a bathroom looking through his father's stash. But I couldn't turn a chance at journalism down, just to get a taste of the other side (without that side being full frontal).
When I told my mother, she shrieked, "What?!" I assured her my morals were intact, and that it was only for a newspaper commentary. She said, "OK, but I'm not telling your father."
After registering online, the producer, Cynthia, called me. I was to come to the Hilton Garden Inn on Maple Avenue bearing a bikini and heels (classy, huh?). Later, her innocent Chicago accent and eagerness to meet me would reveal a maternal instinct as she sweet-talked me into taking provocative photos. Nice.
In preparation, I decided on a turquoise bohemian print two-piece I'd ordered from Victoria's Secret. My mind filled with questions. Do I want drastic hair and make-up? Will I look tacky? Is it even possible to be Playboy chic?
On the morning of the interview, I faced the mirror. To match my suit and to emphasize the overdone vibe, I lined my eyes with a blue-green pencil. I applied navy and green eye shadows that looked surprisingly natural (I'm not used to this va-va-voom stuff). To finish, I put on long, dangling silver earrings.
Down Sheridan Road I went, in my terry-cloth sweats, gray T-shirt and made-up face. While carrying my school bag with my four-subject notebook and a globalization case study on one arm, I lugged a plastic CVS bag holding my bikini and taupe sling backs on the other.
Once there, I realized the room Cynthia so calmly offered me was a private suite rather than a banquet room. Things just got creepier.
I filled out forms and changed in the bedroom before Rudi, the photographer, entered. The usual boy-on-the-beach gawk I often get - it starts at my boobs and sometimes makes its way to my eyes - was absent. Instead, he mentioned my interest in sports. So, as I stood there in a triangle bikini and near-five inch heels, I gushed to him about my love for the Baltimore Ravens.
We shot about 10 poses. Rudi told me to place my hand on my hip, or lean against the wall and continuously chanted "smile big." Transferring to the bed seemed risqué, but I first just sat on my knees with my hands on my hips. The next pose, though, involved my body facing the wall as my head peered around at the camera. That one hit me. I wasn't just smiling at a camera. I was twisted into an unnatural position to try to tempt someone with my body. That's not me.
Yesterday, Cynthia called. Apparently, the Chicago offices "love" me and are offering me $1,500 for a full shoot Saturday. In her recurrent maternal tone, she told me how "cute" I am and how excited the head photographer sounded.
Each time I listened to her praises, I couldn't help but giggle. It all seemed funny to me! I'm just a 19-year-old girl, and I don't feel different than thousands of others at NU. In a college environment, we face sexuality issues everyday.
Long ago, I drew my line before pornography. But what about modeling in general? Does a seductive pose in a bra catalogue demean women in the same way? Is it solely the male reaction to different photos that determines acceptability?
I liked my body before the shoot, and I like my body now. I don't need Playboy to tell me they like it to make me like it. I could never use Playboy as the basis of my self-esteem.
So I guess this delves into the mind set of somebody who does pose for Playboy. Maybe she wants fame. Maybe she has likes having an international audience for her body. Maybe it gives her confidence. That's fine, and I respect her. Who am I to judge?
Yes, there are girls among us, just like at other schools, who would pose for Playboy. They'll also graduate from NU with degrees. Females can do what they want with their bodies. So if I wanted to be the next Playboy star, I guess I could consider NU my launching pad. I plan, however, to go elsewhere. I still need to call Cynthia to deliver the news. NU is launching me into a world of clothed, professional journalism.
... I really am speechless. I think I'll just let it go for itself.
Hangin' (out) in the gallows
A nearly 1o-year career in news will do that to you -- you develop a fantastic gallows sense of humor.
Amber's phone rings and she answers it. It's her husband Sam asking her a question about something he'd heard over at his job at University of Charleston.
She looks up at me and says, "Have you heard anything about somebody jumping off a bridge and getting hit by a car?"
My response?
"No, but that's a shitty way to start your Wednesday."
I'm going to hell ...
Amber's phone rings and she answers it. It's her husband Sam asking her a question about something he'd heard over at his job at University of Charleston.
She looks up at me and says, "Have you heard anything about somebody jumping off a bridge and getting hit by a car?"
My response?
"No, but that's a shitty way to start your Wednesday."
I'm going to hell ...
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Six hours. (You don't get them back, but you don't forget them)
Tonight I was going through a couple of boxes to unpack and I found a newspaper from Syracuse.
I lived in Syracuse (and Binghamton, N.Y.) for the better part of a year -- Syracuse exclusively for almost four months.
My shift at the Post-Standard as a copy desk intern was odd. My days off were Tuesday and Wednesday -- a real party, I assure you. The hours I worked were just as strange to non-newspaper types: 5 p.m. to 1:30 a.m.
This was an odd life while it lasted. We'd hang out after work and before you know it, it's 4 a.m. I'd go home, watch NY 1 (God, I miss you, New York) and by the time you're actually tired, it's almost 6 a.m.
I'd sleep until 11 a.m. when "L.A. Law" would come on.
Yes, that's right.
"L.A. Law."
I'd watch back-to-back episodes on Lifetime while I ate my Wegmans leftovers. Around 1, I'd get in the shower and get ready. I'd drive to Wegmans in Fayetteville, buy a New York Post and eat lunch and read the paper.
It really is as glamorous as it sounds. But there was comfort in that kind of routine. Lazy days, busy shifts, long nights.
One that sticks out in my mind is what came to be known as "Amy Fisher Day."
I love trainwrecks. The bigger the wreck, the more I love. I was only 13 when all of this happened back in 1992, but I remember being fascinated by it. And then confused when I saw what Joey Buttafuoco looked like. Chicks were willing to kill for that guy? What? I probably hit the "You have problems" stage when I actually went out and bought the book, "Amy Fisher: My Story" and read it in one sitting.
(In the interest of full disclosure, I also read "Monica's Story" from front to back in one day.)
On one beautiful, sunny Sunday morning, I woke up to Lifetime. Best I can tell, there was an infomercial I was watching and I clocked out during. Probably for something like the JuiceTiger or maybe some kind of clothing steamer.
At 10 a.m., however ...
A marathon.
Three movies. Six hours.
ALL THREE AMY FISHER MOVIES!!
It started off with "Lethal Lolita (Amy Fisher: My Story)", which tells this tale from Amy's point of view. Amy is played by Noelle Parker and Ed Marinaro plays Joey.
* Note: This has the best Joey. Ed Marinaro puts the other two to freakin' shame.
At noon we rocked "Casualties of Love: The Long Island Lolita Story", which is the Joey Buttafuoco side of the story. This starred Alyssa Milano as Amy and Jack Scalia as Joey.
* Note: I'd give this one the "Best Amy" award -- Alyssa NAILS this role. It probably wasn't much of a stretch.
The piece de resistance of this trilogy was simply "The Amy Fisher Story", which prides itself on being the neutral account. This stars Drew Barrymore as Amy and some guy I've never heard of named Anthony John Denison as Joey. This is by far the least memorable of the three.
I didn't leave my room for the entire six hours. I was captivated. It was like time had just stopped and I was basking in all of this tabloid trash glory.
I went to work that night so proud of what I'd accomplished, but nobody seemed to get it. To this day, I haven't found anybody who really gets it -- why I gave up six hours of my life like that to TV that sucks on a subject that's just a complete and utter disaster.
But that's part of my genetic makeup, I think. I don't mind losing hours of my life to pursuits others find wasteful.
But if anybody's looking for a Christmas idea, I bet you could find the DVDs of these on Amazon. And you can come over and watch them on my Man TV.
I lived in Syracuse (and Binghamton, N.Y.) for the better part of a year -- Syracuse exclusively for almost four months.
My shift at the Post-Standard as a copy desk intern was odd. My days off were Tuesday and Wednesday -- a real party, I assure you. The hours I worked were just as strange to non-newspaper types: 5 p.m. to 1:30 a.m.
This was an odd life while it lasted. We'd hang out after work and before you know it, it's 4 a.m. I'd go home, watch NY 1 (God, I miss you, New York) and by the time you're actually tired, it's almost 6 a.m.
I'd sleep until 11 a.m. when "L.A. Law" would come on.
Yes, that's right.
"L.A. Law."
I'd watch back-to-back episodes on Lifetime while I ate my Wegmans leftovers. Around 1, I'd get in the shower and get ready. I'd drive to Wegmans in Fayetteville, buy a New York Post and eat lunch and read the paper.
It really is as glamorous as it sounds. But there was comfort in that kind of routine. Lazy days, busy shifts, long nights.
One that sticks out in my mind is what came to be known as "Amy Fisher Day."
I love trainwrecks. The bigger the wreck, the more I love. I was only 13 when all of this happened back in 1992, but I remember being fascinated by it. And then confused when I saw what Joey Buttafuoco looked like. Chicks were willing to kill for that guy? What? I probably hit the "You have problems" stage when I actually went out and bought the book, "Amy Fisher: My Story" and read it in one sitting.
(In the interest of full disclosure, I also read "Monica's Story" from front to back in one day.)
On one beautiful, sunny Sunday morning, I woke up to Lifetime. Best I can tell, there was an infomercial I was watching and I clocked out during. Probably for something like the JuiceTiger or maybe some kind of clothing steamer.
At 10 a.m., however ...
A marathon.
Three movies. Six hours.
ALL THREE AMY FISHER MOVIES!!
It started off with "Lethal Lolita (Amy Fisher: My Story)", which tells this tale from Amy's point of view. Amy is played by Noelle Parker and Ed Marinaro plays Joey.
* Note: This has the best Joey. Ed Marinaro puts the other two to freakin' shame.
At noon we rocked "Casualties of Love: The Long Island Lolita Story", which is the Joey Buttafuoco side of the story. This starred Alyssa Milano as Amy and Jack Scalia as Joey.
* Note: I'd give this one the "Best Amy" award -- Alyssa NAILS this role. It probably wasn't much of a stretch.
The piece de resistance of this trilogy was simply "The Amy Fisher Story", which prides itself on being the neutral account. This stars Drew Barrymore as Amy and some guy I've never heard of named Anthony John Denison as Joey. This is by far the least memorable of the three.
I didn't leave my room for the entire six hours. I was captivated. It was like time had just stopped and I was basking in all of this tabloid trash glory.
I went to work that night so proud of what I'd accomplished, but nobody seemed to get it. To this day, I haven't found anybody who really gets it -- why I gave up six hours of my life like that to TV that sucks on a subject that's just a complete and utter disaster.
But that's part of my genetic makeup, I think. I don't mind losing hours of my life to pursuits others find wasteful.
But if anybody's looking for a Christmas idea, I bet you could find the DVDs of these on Amazon. And you can come over and watch them on my Man TV.
A picture's worth ...
One of my friends just e-mailed me this picture. She said it was an actual picture of a parking space outside her place of employment.
At least she doesn't work in media ... I'd be really sad in that case.
... freaky.
This was written on the slip of paper that came in my fortune cookie at lunch today:
"It's not the end yet. Let's stay with it."
... Freaky.
"It's not the end yet. Let's stay with it."
... Freaky.
The results are in: You hate Ohio State.
In the inaugural blog poll:
Is Ohio State really worthy of their No. 1 ranking?
Um, YEAH. Hello? — NOT. ONE. VOTE.
Yeah, I mean, University of Phoenix Online IS tough this year. — 3 votes (16 percent)
Better them than Notre Dame. — 4 votes (22 percent)
I want to blow up The Horseshoe. — 11 votes (61 percent)
I'm glad to see an overwhelming 61 percent feel the same way I do.
Make sure to vote in this week's poll. :) Anybody who knows me knows what my answer will be. Break out the Duran Duran and "Better Off Dead."
Is Ohio State really worthy of their No. 1 ranking?
Um, YEAH. Hello? — NOT. ONE. VOTE.
Yeah, I mean, University of Phoenix Online IS tough this year. — 3 votes (16 percent)
Better them than Notre Dame. — 4 votes (22 percent)
I want to blow up The Horseshoe. — 11 votes (61 percent)
I'm glad to see an overwhelming 61 percent feel the same way I do.
Make sure to vote in this week's poll. :) Anybody who knows me knows what my answer will be. Break out the Duran Duran and "Better Off Dead."
Kids are awesome
My friend Amber looks over at me and says, "Luke got in trouble at school yesterday. He would have been done with his punishment right after school, but he got another day tacked on for that."
Luke is Amber's kindergarten-aged son. I asked what he did.
"They had a play at school yesterday, and apparently, he was rude to the actors."
I nearly spit out my diet Mountain Dew. And I'm still laughing about this.
Her 5-year-old was hassling actors. He's a heckler. I told her that she and her husband are failing to see the potential in this little future movie critic! That kid is an untapped resource. I'd encourage him to heckle MORE actors. And musicians.
I don't know if I'll ever have kids, but as long as there are kids like this hanging around, I'm happy.
Luke is Amber's kindergarten-aged son. I asked what he did.
"They had a play at school yesterday, and apparently, he was rude to the actors."
I nearly spit out my diet Mountain Dew. And I'm still laughing about this.
Her 5-year-old was hassling actors. He's a heckler. I told her that she and her husband are failing to see the potential in this little future movie critic! That kid is an untapped resource. I'd encourage him to heckle MORE actors. And musicians.
I don't know if I'll ever have kids, but as long as there are kids like this hanging around, I'm happy.
Monday, October 22, 2007
How I knew it was bed time
As I lay on my couch thinking about what I need to do, what's been done, what I should have done, I cracked myself up. I mean, genuine belly laughing.
In between "Pull that ad for a story hole" and "I need to pack my bag for volleyball," I thought ... "DAYMAN!! FIGHTER OF THE NIGHTMAN!!"
These two clips are from an episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" a couple weeks ago.
The first one, Chemical Toilet presents, "Night Man":
This was followed up by Electric Dream Machine's "Day Man":
I've said it hundred times, but this is the best show ever. Ever.
But I knew it was time to go to bed when I called Jeff and just started cracking myself up when I was singing "Day Man" to him on his drive home. He pointed out that if I'm on my couch almost in tears, bed's probably not a bad idea.
Oh, and just because it was on Flix tonight, and because it's my second-favorite movie of all time and because this probably is the best scene:
JESUS!
You said it, man.
In between "Pull that ad for a story hole" and "I need to pack my bag for volleyball," I thought ... "DAYMAN!! FIGHTER OF THE NIGHTMAN!!"
These two clips are from an episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" a couple weeks ago.
The first one, Chemical Toilet presents, "Night Man":
This was followed up by Electric Dream Machine's "Day Man":
I've said it hundred times, but this is the best show ever. Ever.
But I knew it was time to go to bed when I called Jeff and just started cracking myself up when I was singing "Day Man" to him on his drive home. He pointed out that if I'm on my couch almost in tears, bed's probably not a bad idea.
Oh, and just because it was on Flix tonight, and because it's my second-favorite movie of all time and because this probably is the best scene:
JESUS!
You said it, man.
A band I'd tell a friend about
I'm becoming all about bands people around here haven't heard about yet.I've recently gotten really into Radiofix, a band that's based in Phoenix.
A girl I know who used to live there got me into them, and I'm glad she did. I've downloaded all of the albums they have available at iTunes -- Dogs of Night (a four-track release), Radiofix and Angels and Skeletons, which was just released Oct. 5.
They're very musical, very gifted. Their songs are GREAT driving music. I'd highly suggest downloading a song or two from them. Start with "Simplify."
The first step is admitting you have a problem
I can't believe I love the Brad Paisley song "Online."
If you haven't heard this song, you need to get your ass to YouTube and watch the video, which stars Jason Alexander, the George's Mom from Seinfeld and WILLIAM SHATNER.
And if for nothing else, for the hook:
"I'm so much cooler online."
Aren't we all? I know I'm MUCH cooler online than I am in real life. My own real life is pretty uneventful. Online I've got this, the show, MySpace ... all that crap. But just ordinary Jacque in sweatpants on the couch? Not all that cool. I'd hang out with me, but I'd probably want me to go home after a day or two.
If you haven't heard this song, you need to get your ass to YouTube and watch the video, which stars Jason Alexander, the George's Mom from Seinfeld and WILLIAM SHATNER.
And if for nothing else, for the hook:
"I'm so much cooler online."
Aren't we all? I know I'm MUCH cooler online than I am in real life. My own real life is pretty uneventful. Online I've got this, the show, MySpace ... all that crap. But just ordinary Jacque in sweatpants on the couch? Not all that cool. I'd hang out with me, but I'd probably want me to go home after a day or two.
The changes you find
When I lived at my old house, I was really lazy. I mean, I didn't do anything. I wasn't much into housework. I didn't do laundry. I hated cleaning.
I've been in my new place almost one month and this place is spotless. I clean it at least once a day. Clothes are put away. I hang up laundry the second it's done in the dryer.
I don't know why I wouldn't do these things when I was at my old house, but I do them here. I've been trying to figure that out.
I'm not sleeping all that well yet. I really wanted to go to bed an hour ago but I realized I didn't finish my laundry yet. I stayed in Morgantown an extra day, so Saturday night didn't end up being laundry night like I planned.
I tell you, it's a party a second here on Roundhill.
Homecoming was great. Morgantown is so different and it changes all the time. I remember with fondness the way it used to look and how things used to be, and I can see why people love it or hate it the way it is now. Every piece of spare land has an apartment building or a townhouse complex on it. There's more shopping there than you can wrap your mind around. Where I used to live is gone.
Morgantown's still got its charms, though. The Dairy Mart. Marris' store. The Beanery.
I really could get into a stromboli right now.
If only I didn't need to go to bed. If only I'd actually laid out the paper on Friday. Starting Monday in a deficit isn't the way to start a Monday. But here I am. In a total time deficit.
I've been in my new place almost one month and this place is spotless. I clean it at least once a day. Clothes are put away. I hang up laundry the second it's done in the dryer.
I don't know why I wouldn't do these things when I was at my old house, but I do them here. I've been trying to figure that out.
I'm not sleeping all that well yet. I really wanted to go to bed an hour ago but I realized I didn't finish my laundry yet. I stayed in Morgantown an extra day, so Saturday night didn't end up being laundry night like I planned.
I tell you, it's a party a second here on Roundhill.
Homecoming was great. Morgantown is so different and it changes all the time. I remember with fondness the way it used to look and how things used to be, and I can see why people love it or hate it the way it is now. Every piece of spare land has an apartment building or a townhouse complex on it. There's more shopping there than you can wrap your mind around. Where I used to live is gone.
Morgantown's still got its charms, though. The Dairy Mart. Marris' store. The Beanery.
I really could get into a stromboli right now.
If only I didn't need to go to bed. If only I'd actually laid out the paper on Friday. Starting Monday in a deficit isn't the way to start a Monday. But here I am. In a total time deficit.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Morgantown bound!
I'm just wrapping up a couple of things, and then it's Homecoming time! :)
West Virginia's a 23-point favorite. I hope this doesn't become a "parking lot by halftime" game. My parents are going with me (and my friend Philip) and I'm getting them into a tailgate. I hope they have a great time.
Must get outta here ... I need to pack and set up the perpetual feeders for Inky.
I hope to BlackBerry blog ... 'cause I'm a geek, and because I can.
West Virginia's a 23-point favorite. I hope this doesn't become a "parking lot by halftime" game. My parents are going with me (and my friend Philip) and I'm getting them into a tailgate. I hope they have a great time.
Must get outta here ... I need to pack and set up the perpetual feeders for Inky.
I hope to BlackBerry blog ... 'cause I'm a geek, and because I can.
First Song Friday (10-19-07)
Ah, the inspiration for my first "weekly" feature other than a poll.
I've often said that I really do believe the first song you hear when you wake up (if you're a morning radio person) is fate's way of telling you what's on tap that day.
Swear as I'm sitting here on this couch (yeah, I'm not gonna make it to work by 8:30 ...) the song I heard the morning I moved out of my house was "She's Gone" by Hall and Oates. I laughed. And then I cried.
If I tend to hear a shitty song that makes me change the station, I get that feeling it's going to reflect in the hours to come. I'm not often wrong when it comes to that prediction.
Thunderstorms woke me up around 6:30. I love sleeping in thunderstorms so I turned the alarm off (it was set for 6:40) and promptly reset it for 7:30 and went back to sleep for an hour.
Today's first song, courtesy of Charleston's Z-Rock 94.5:
"Best of You" by Foo Fighters
Perfect.
Here are the lyrics for the inaugural First Song Friday (from LyricsFreak.com):
I've got another confession to make
I'm your fool...
Everyone's got their chains to break
Holding you...
Were you born to resist, or be abused
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Are you gone and on to someone new
I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose..
You gave me something that I didn't have
But had no use...
I was too weak to give in, too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can't choose
I swear I'll never give in
and I refuse.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Has someone taken your faith -- it's real
The pain you feel
Your trust -- you must confess
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Has someone taken you faith -- it's real
The pain you feel
The life the love you die to heal
The hope that stops the broken hearts
Your trust, you must confess
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
I've got another confession my friend
I'm no fool
I'm getting tired of startin' again
somewhere new
Wouldn't wanna resist, or be abused...
I swear I'll never give in
and I refuse...
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Has someone taken you faith -- it's real
The pain you feel
Your trust, you must confess
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
It makes me oddly curious what's in store ...
I've often said that I really do believe the first song you hear when you wake up (if you're a morning radio person) is fate's way of telling you what's on tap that day.
Swear as I'm sitting here on this couch (yeah, I'm not gonna make it to work by 8:30 ...) the song I heard the morning I moved out of my house was "She's Gone" by Hall and Oates. I laughed. And then I cried.
If I tend to hear a shitty song that makes me change the station, I get that feeling it's going to reflect in the hours to come. I'm not often wrong when it comes to that prediction.
Thunderstorms woke me up around 6:30. I love sleeping in thunderstorms so I turned the alarm off (it was set for 6:40) and promptly reset it for 7:30 and went back to sleep for an hour.
Today's first song, courtesy of Charleston's Z-Rock 94.5:
"Best of You" by Foo Fighters
Perfect.
Here are the lyrics for the inaugural First Song Friday (from LyricsFreak.com):
I've got another confession to make
I'm your fool...
Everyone's got their chains to break
Holding you...
Were you born to resist, or be abused
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Are you gone and on to someone new
I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose..
You gave me something that I didn't have
But had no use...
I was too weak to give in, too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can't choose
I swear I'll never give in
and I refuse.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Has someone taken your faith -- it's real
The pain you feel
Your trust -- you must confess
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Has someone taken you faith -- it's real
The pain you feel
The life the love you die to heal
The hope that stops the broken hearts
Your trust, you must confess
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
I've got another confession my friend
I'm no fool
I'm getting tired of startin' again
somewhere new
Wouldn't wanna resist, or be abused...
I swear I'll never give in
and I refuse...
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
Has someone taken you faith -- it's real
The pain you feel
Your trust, you must confess
Is someone getting
the best, the best, the best, the best of you.
It makes me oddly curious what's in store ...
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Listen up, white blood cells ...
I can sort of feel sick coming on.
You know that general "I feel like crap" and you feel just kind of run down and achy?
Yeah.
I have it.
I don't know if I have a fever because I can't find my thermometer. It may still be boxed up from the move.
All I know is this better go away before tomorrow because I've got WVU's Homecoming to take by storm and some Mountaineer Rally to make for the masses.
I'm going to be optimistic and say that it's just the stress of the last four weeks coming down. It was about four weeks ago that my world sort of upended. And I'm doing OK, I really am. I'm doing great, even. I'm just tired. Even if you're sleeping, stress can wreak havoc on you. It's been a very stressful four weeks.
I need a vacation. A real one this time. That's likely going to come in November if I can make it to Sandy Eggo. :) (Or Sahn Dieahgo, for my fellow Ron Burgundy fans.)
But in happier news, Philip is coming over tonight to watch my Man TV. Maybe a little Rutgers upset? He's bringing pizza, which means despite my desire to curl up under this blanket for another hour or so, I need to go to Pilates class and do pre-emptive damage control.
Go white blood cells! I am NOT going to be sick for Homecoming.
You know that general "I feel like crap" and you feel just kind of run down and achy?
Yeah.
I have it.
I don't know if I have a fever because I can't find my thermometer. It may still be boxed up from the move.
All I know is this better go away before tomorrow because I've got WVU's Homecoming to take by storm and some Mountaineer Rally to make for the masses.
I'm going to be optimistic and say that it's just the stress of the last four weeks coming down. It was about four weeks ago that my world sort of upended. And I'm doing OK, I really am. I'm doing great, even. I'm just tired. Even if you're sleeping, stress can wreak havoc on you. It's been a very stressful four weeks.
I need a vacation. A real one this time. That's likely going to come in November if I can make it to Sandy Eggo. :) (Or Sahn Dieahgo, for my fellow Ron Burgundy fans.)
But in happier news, Philip is coming over tonight to watch my Man TV. Maybe a little Rutgers upset? He's bringing pizza, which means despite my desire to curl up under this blanket for another hour or so, I need to go to Pilates class and do pre-emptive damage control.
Go white blood cells! I am NOT going to be sick for Homecoming.
Your new favorite TV show
Tonight.FX.
10 p.m.
You'll want to clear your schedule this week, and every week from now on, to watch both episodes of this show.
I didn't know this show in its first two seasons. I had heard of it, but never watched it, until one of my friends said, "You're not living until you start watching this show."
So he had me download an episode from iTunes just to see if I'd be into it. I downloaded "Dennis and Dee Go On Welfare."
And my life changed. Which sounds like pure hyperbole, but trust me. Television became different at that point. I downloaded all of seasons one and two and I watch them at work all the time. I need to go out and buy the DVDs for home.
If you've not watched, give it a try tonight. This show is darkly funny. Hilariously wrong. There's nothing to NOT love about this show. And it's got Danny DeVito, which to me makes everything better immediately anyway.
Finally, people who see it my way
HELL YEAH!
Swearing at work 'boosts team spirit, morale'
I mean, other than dropping the F-bomb in front of your CEO, of course. That's probably bad form. I wouldn't advise that. That may slow you down.
Swearing at work 'boosts team spirit, morale'
I mean, other than dropping the F-bomb in front of your CEO, of course. That's probably bad form. I wouldn't advise that. That may slow you down.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Reader mail (and Wednesday random)
I'm on the phone with Jeff right now, in an IM with Ben and listening to "Delilah" on the radio, which I leave on for Inky during the day so she's got some background noise. (Yeah, that's lame. Mock me if you want.) The song on now is "Night Shift" by Lionel Richie.
Verrrrrp.
Oh, but there's been redemption, because now we've got "Sara Smile" by Holland Oates.
You'll get that joke if you're a fan of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia."
My sister, Ashlea, sent me this story, courtesy of our friends at FOXnews.com:
Woman Overheard Yelling Obscenities at Toilet Could Face Jail Time
Tuesday , October 16, 2007
SCRANTON, Pa. — A woman who allegedly shouted profanities at her overflowing toilet within earshot of a neighbor was cited for disorderly conduct, authorities said.
Dawn Herb could face up to 90 days in jail and a fine of up to $300.
"It doesn't make any sense. I was in my house. It's not like I was outside or drunk," Herb told The Times-Tribune of Scranton. "The toilet was overflowing and leaking down into the kitchen and I was yelling (for my daughter) to get the mop."
Herb does not recall exactly what she said, but she admitted letting more than a few bad words fly near an open bathroom window Thursday night.
Her next-door neighbor, a city police officer who was off-duty at the time, asked her to keep it down, police said. When she continued, the officer called police.
Mary Catherine Roper, an attorney with the American Civil Liberties Union in Philadelphia, took issue with the citation.
"You can't prosecute somebody for swearing at a cop or a toilet," she said.
Why is this story awesome? Where do I even start?
1. Who HASN'T yelled at an inanimate object like that? I must swear at objects a dozen or more times a day.
2. What are YOU going to do the next time your toilet overflows? Bet me money that you swear.
3. Douchebag off-duty cops.
4. ... Um, hello? The best part ... SCRANTON!
5. Ash, thanks for getting this week's Roundup segment ready for the show Sunday!
Verrrrrp.
Oh, but there's been redemption, because now we've got "Sara Smile" by Holland Oates.
You'll get that joke if you're a fan of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia."
* * * * *
But on with the reader mail!My sister, Ashlea, sent me this story, courtesy of our friends at FOXnews.com:
Woman Overheard Yelling Obscenities at Toilet Could Face Jail Time
Tuesday , October 16, 2007
SCRANTON, Pa. — A woman who allegedly shouted profanities at her overflowing toilet within earshot of a neighbor was cited for disorderly conduct, authorities said.
Dawn Herb could face up to 90 days in jail and a fine of up to $300.
"It doesn't make any sense. I was in my house. It's not like I was outside or drunk," Herb told The Times-Tribune of Scranton. "The toilet was overflowing and leaking down into the kitchen and I was yelling (for my daughter) to get the mop."
Herb does not recall exactly what she said, but she admitted letting more than a few bad words fly near an open bathroom window Thursday night.
Her next-door neighbor, a city police officer who was off-duty at the time, asked her to keep it down, police said. When she continued, the officer called police.
Mary Catherine Roper, an attorney with the American Civil Liberties Union in Philadelphia, took issue with the citation.
"You can't prosecute somebody for swearing at a cop or a toilet," she said.
Why is this story awesome? Where do I even start?
1. Who HASN'T yelled at an inanimate object like that? I must swear at objects a dozen or more times a day.
2. What are YOU going to do the next time your toilet overflows? Bet me money that you swear.
3. Douchebag off-duty cops.
4. ... Um, hello? The best part ... SCRANTON!
5. Ash, thanks for getting this week's Roundup segment ready for the show Sunday!
* * * * *
I'm starting to think Inky is possessed. Or at the least a little neurotic, which isn't bad given the girl who adopted her.
She's spent the last 30 minutes chasing both my gym bag (which hasn't moved) or her foot. She hisses at HER FOOT. I'm confused by this. That foot's never done you wrong, Ink.
* * * * *
Speaking of the gym, though, I'm still training for the triathlon in April. The last few weeks haven't been good on my gym schedule.
Truth be told, in the days following my separation, I didn't do much but lay around on the couch and watch TV. Then I traveled a little and came back to Charleston and I was living with a friend, so I didn't do a whole lot. It took me a week to get really settled into my new place and this is actually the first week I've been back into a routine of any sort.
That three weeks off was hell on my running endurance. You wouldn't think that three weeks off could affect your time like that, but it did for me. I just have to get back into it and get dedicated to it again. It'll be easier now, and I'm looking forward to the challenge.
Next after the Disney Danskin Tri is the Erie Half-Marathon, so you all should get your posterboard signs ready for that one. Oh, and your gambling money. Because after I run, we're totally tagging Presque Isle like it's our job.
* * * * *
I think it's bed time. I've got a few books that I got at Kanawha County Library's annual used book sale that I'm eager to rip into. I decided to not put a TV in my bedroom so I have a quiet place. The TV is too great a temptation when you're trying to sleep ... I'd rather pass out with a good book.
I also bought a composition book to write down my dreams ... if I could just remember them. So far, no luck.
*Updated* Pimping ain't easy (but for them, anything!)
Please check out my friend Philip's column in today's Charleston Daily Mail:
My Turn: This wedding couple is brought to you by ...
It's a hilarious column about getting corporate sponsors for his wedding and a suggestion I'd made to him a while back about having the Friends of Coal sponsor the whole event.
Oh, and if you're not already a reader, make sure to put Mike Casazza's blog (on WVU and various other topics) on your favorites.
Speaking of Mike, he also had a great first-person piece in the Daily Mail today about the adventure before his wedding to Erinn, one of my oldest and dearest friends. I wasn't able to go to their wedding because I was in Kentucky at a funeral, but from all accounts and pictures, it was a beautiful day and Erinn couldn't have been a more beautiful bride.
But their wedding day is a classic case of, "Everything was going along really well until ..."
Here's their story, complete with a slideshow of pics:
The trolley blew its lid, but not the wedding
The pic of her dad (I'll let you discover it on your own) is absolutely priceless.
My Turn: This wedding couple is brought to you by ...
It's a hilarious column about getting corporate sponsors for his wedding and a suggestion I'd made to him a while back about having the Friends of Coal sponsor the whole event.
Oh, and if you're not already a reader, make sure to put Mike Casazza's blog (on WVU and various other topics) on your favorites.
Speaking of Mike, he also had a great first-person piece in the Daily Mail today about the adventure before his wedding to Erinn, one of my oldest and dearest friends. I wasn't able to go to their wedding because I was in Kentucky at a funeral, but from all accounts and pictures, it was a beautiful day and Erinn couldn't have been a more beautiful bride.
But their wedding day is a classic case of, "Everything was going along really well until ..."
Here's their story, complete with a slideshow of pics:
The trolley blew its lid, but not the wedding
The pic of her dad (I'll let you discover it on your own) is absolutely priceless.
The "I'm Not Sayin', I'm Just Sayin'" of the year
From today's Charleston Daily Mail:
State education official says his "redneck" remarks were taken out of context
by Justin D. Anderson
Capitol Reporter
A top state education official acknowledged that he used the phrase "four-wheel riding, dope-smoking, alcoholic rednecks" to describe a lifestyle that impedes student progress.
But Kenna Seal, who heads up the state Office of Education Performance Audits, said he was not talking about Lincoln County.
"I used those words, but I didn't call the people in Lincoln County that," Seal said. "I used those words to describe a lifestyle that I have noticed in places across the country and even in West Virginia."
Members of the Lincoln school board contend that Seal was harshly criticizing the county and have asked him to apologize.
Here's the thing -- he's not altogether wrong. And what they taught me at that fancy journalism school is that the best defense against libel is the truth.
He certainly doesn't get any style points on this one, and to be honest, it's not just Lincoln County. He should spend some quality time in Logan, Mingo, McDowell ... Wirt, Ritchie, Doddridge ... I mean, it's pretty much the whole state.
That's sure to piss off most West Virginians, but you know what? Prove him wrong. Because from where I sit, I can't see that he's saying anything that's patently false.
State education official says his "redneck" remarks were taken out of context
by Justin D. Anderson
Capitol Reporter
A top state education official acknowledged that he used the phrase "four-wheel riding, dope-smoking, alcoholic rednecks" to describe a lifestyle that impedes student progress.
But Kenna Seal, who heads up the state Office of Education Performance Audits, said he was not talking about Lincoln County.
"I used those words, but I didn't call the people in Lincoln County that," Seal said. "I used those words to describe a lifestyle that I have noticed in places across the country and even in West Virginia."
Members of the Lincoln school board contend that Seal was harshly criticizing the county and have asked him to apologize.
Here's the thing -- he's not altogether wrong. And what they taught me at that fancy journalism school is that the best defense against libel is the truth.
He certainly doesn't get any style points on this one, and to be honest, it's not just Lincoln County. He should spend some quality time in Logan, Mingo, McDowell ... Wirt, Ritchie, Doddridge ... I mean, it's pretty much the whole state.
That's sure to piss off most West Virginians, but you know what? Prove him wrong. Because from where I sit, I can't see that he's saying anything that's patently false.
No new fashion venture goes unpunished
"What? You got on your Canadian tuxedo today?"
-- Amber, commenting on my new denim jacket that I got from Julie
In my defense, the denim jacket is paired with a black tanktop, a black straight-line skirt and my knee-high black boots.
Update: Stirewalt just comes in.
"Girl! Look at you in your denim jacket today! You're looking like a million bucks! Doesn't she look like a million bucks?"
Amber: "Yeah, but doesn't she look a little bit Canadian?"
Stirewalt: "Yeah, a little. But more like Wisconsin. Half-Canadian."
For those of you playing along at home, but are still unsure what a Canadian tuxedo is, here's a visual:
And according to a July 2006 article in Bacon magazine, here's how it can be described:
The Canadian Tuxedo
The Canadian Tuxedo is the favoured outfit for young men and women on important occasions. Nothing says “I’m looking my best for you” like The Canadian Tuxedo. Wear it to your prom, for an important job interview, or at a relative’s funeral. The Canadian Tuxedo is traditionally comprised of a pair of blue jeans, a blue jean shirt, and a blue jean jacket.
Screw you guys, I'm wearing a black sweater from here out.
-- Amber, commenting on my new denim jacket that I got from Julie
In my defense, the denim jacket is paired with a black tanktop, a black straight-line skirt and my knee-high black boots.
Update: Stirewalt just comes in.
"Girl! Look at you in your denim jacket today! You're looking like a million bucks! Doesn't she look like a million bucks?"
Amber: "Yeah, but doesn't she look a little bit Canadian?"
Stirewalt: "Yeah, a little. But more like Wisconsin. Half-Canadian."
For those of you playing along at home, but are still unsure what a Canadian tuxedo is, here's a visual:
And according to a July 2006 article in Bacon magazine, here's how it can be described:
The Canadian Tuxedo
The Canadian Tuxedo is the favoured outfit for young men and women on important occasions. Nothing says “I’m looking my best for you” like The Canadian Tuxedo. Wear it to your prom, for an important job interview, or at a relative’s funeral. The Canadian Tuxedo is traditionally comprised of a pair of blue jeans, a blue jean shirt, and a blue jean jacket.
Screw you guys, I'm wearing a black sweater from here out.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Lessons in Humility (Vol. 1)
Wednesday's trash day in my new neighborhood, so rather than get up 15 minutes earlier, I just get the trash together on Tuesday night. Tonight, I just finished cleaning out Inky's litter box when I put it on the ledge of the sink, turned my back and ...
Heard a thud.
The entire contents of the clean litter box were on the floor. I'm talking like two pounds of unused Tidy Cat For Small Spaces on the tile floor.
At this point, all I could do is stare. After a good 15 seconds, I started cleanup. I scooped most of it up with the dustpan, but then I broke out the DustBuster to get the rest. (Pilgrim voyage of the DustBuster!!)
I learned three things:
1. Just leave the f-ing cat box on the floor. Don't pick it up because you think sitting it on the edge of the sink will be more efficient.
2. The DustBuster is probably not intended to pick up all of that clay ... or whatever it is they make litter with.
3. When faced with laugh or cry, laugh. Because I know it may be hard to picture, but two pounds or so of cat litter scattered EVERYWHERE on your kitchen floor, after all, is very funny.
Heard a thud.
The entire contents of the clean litter box were on the floor. I'm talking like two pounds of unused Tidy Cat For Small Spaces on the tile floor.
At this point, all I could do is stare. After a good 15 seconds, I started cleanup. I scooped most of it up with the dustpan, but then I broke out the DustBuster to get the rest. (Pilgrim voyage of the DustBuster!!)
I learned three things:
1. Just leave the f-ing cat box on the floor. Don't pick it up because you think sitting it on the edge of the sink will be more efficient.
2. The DustBuster is probably not intended to pick up all of that clay ... or whatever it is they make litter with.
3. When faced with laugh or cry, laugh. Because I know it may be hard to picture, but two pounds or so of cat litter scattered EVERYWHERE on your kitchen floor, after all, is very funny.
I've been accused of this ...
... In some cases, this is true. I'm just sayin'. There are proven cases in which this is absolutely, 100 percent the truth. I can provide concrete examples.
I'm in love!!
I think it's forever, too.
That's an image courtesy of our pals at Google of my new TV.
High def, baby. I'll be able to see the look of worry on Peyton Manning's face on Sundays. I'll be able to count the individual threads on the astroturf. Even better is that I'll be able to watch my team -- the Pittsburgh Steelers -- the way God intended.
In crystal clear, high-definition glory.
And I'm sure that most of the TV I watch, which comes from the Food Network, will look rather appetizing in 40-inch, high-definition. I thought that Paula Deen's calorie-laden baked goods looked good on my crappy Magnavox?! Not. Even. Close.
If only deadline wasn't calling ... I'd be psyched to lay on my couch for hours at a time. This TV could not possibly help with triathlon training in any way. But it'll be great for movie night.
Because I said I would.
I told my friend Dean (one of the dudes behind SportFellas.com) that I would write about not only him, but how awesome he is.
So, here you go, Dean.
You should check out their site. Dean (along with Dan ... and now they may be picking up a third SportFella!) has some of the wittiest, best, most researched sports commentary on the Web. On my show this week, Dean told us that their college football rankings will factor into the actual BCS standings.
Get some, SportFellas! :)
(Alright, Landers ... I gotta get back to work. The AutoTrader doesn't publish itself.)
So, here you go, Dean.
You should check out their site. Dean (along with Dan ... and now they may be picking up a third SportFella!) has some of the wittiest, best, most researched sports commentary on the Web. On my show this week, Dean told us that their college football rankings will factor into the actual BCS standings.
Get some, SportFellas! :)
(Alright, Landers ... I gotta get back to work. The AutoTrader doesn't publish itself.)
A clean, fresh start
I'm jumping back into this because I need an outlet. My show is great for an outlet, but I'm a writer. It's what I do. I write.
I've gone through some pretty serious life changes lately, and I don't think it's a good idea to spill them out here. If you're one of my closer friends, you know what's going on. It's a really strange, and interesting, time in my life. I'm learning a lot about me and all of the stuff that goes with it. I'm learning how to get over hangups of the past and work toward what I want to be in the future, regardless of how that affects the situation in which I'm living.
But the last three weeks of transition haven't been a picnic. I'm lucky that people have stepped in and really come through for me.
I deleted all of the old posts on this blog because, well, I just thought when I picked this back up to start it again I wanted it to be clean. A blank canvas. Something to start from scratch and develop.
But the developing must come a little later ... it's deadline, I've got a hundred things to read and Foo Fighters on iTunes, so I should be unstoppable. :)
I've gone through some pretty serious life changes lately, and I don't think it's a good idea to spill them out here. If you're one of my closer friends, you know what's going on. It's a really strange, and interesting, time in my life. I'm learning a lot about me and all of the stuff that goes with it. I'm learning how to get over hangups of the past and work toward what I want to be in the future, regardless of how that affects the situation in which I'm living.
But the last three weeks of transition haven't been a picnic. I'm lucky that people have stepped in and really come through for me.
I deleted all of the old posts on this blog because, well, I just thought when I picked this back up to start it again I wanted it to be clean. A blank canvas. Something to start from scratch and develop.
But the developing must come a little later ... it's deadline, I've got a hundred things to read and Foo Fighters on iTunes, so I should be unstoppable. :)
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