Sunday Secret (Monday Edition)

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(30/49)

Where's My Sammich?

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(via Stately Sandwiches)

I think I should be a food blogger. All that I need is a bunch of recipes, a decent camera, and a blog with a catchy name, right? I mean, that's all The Pioneer Woman started with, right??

Or Julie Powell? She made that formula work too. She cooked every recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking (1961, Julia Child) in a year, took pictures and and blogged about it, and she wound up with a book deal and a movie starring Meryl Streep and Amy Adams.

Now, Chicago design student/artist Kelly Pratt is at it. She has set out to design a sandwich for each of the U.S. states.

From Pratt's blog:

"I've set out to make the sandwich for each of the 50 states as a fun way to work on my photography and design skills. It will be quite a delicious journey across the US. Before I make each sandwich I do research on the Internet, call local sandwich shops, ask foodies on twitter and check out a few books to be sure I do my best to properly represent a state."

So far she has hooked up California, Connecticut, Illinois, Kentucky, Louisiana, Massachusetts (Are you people crazy? You actually put marshmallow fluff on a sammich?? *shudders*), Minnesota, New York, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Texas, and Virginia.

Hmmmm ...

Since I can't seem to write a blog that anyone would ever find entertaining (outside of in an "I can't take my eyes off the train wreck" way), maybe I should start up a sammich shop that serves nothing but Pratt's Stately Sandwiches.

If it fails, I can call Robert Irvine and become famous on Restaurant Impossible.

I don't see how this could go wrong! 

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(29/44)

Dear 'Ex'-husband,

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Gizmo

Against my better judgement, I agreed to take care of "your" cats while you are on vacation for nine days. You remember ... the cats you wouldn't allow me to take? The two (Gizmo and Tessa) that were mine for the three years before I left you and the one (Curly) that you had to have just a few months before I left you?

I was disturbed to learn that Curly, one of the cats you had to have, is now locked up in the laundry room because you never bothered to have him neutered and he "marks his territory" throughout the house.

Tessa

I decided that Curly shouldn't be punished for your bad pet-owner behavior, so I made an appointment to have him neutered while you were on vacation.

I understand that you are so busy and important that you haven't been able to find the time to take him in to have it done over the past three years, and that your 6-figure income makes budgeting for such a procedure ($50 at the Humane Society) impossible. So I figured I'd do you a favor.

I thought I should probably let you know ... since Curly is "your" cat, so I did the responsible thing and texted you.

Silly me! I thought you'd be thrilled that it was finally being done and all you would need to do is reimburse me the $50 when you get back from vacation.

Instead you responded to my test telling me that Curly is behind on his shots too, and you cannot afford get his shots, let alone pay to have him neutered.

I have no doubt that you sent that text while having lunch (and a few margaritas) along the River Walk in San Antonio, where you just drove (in the 2012 Dodge Charger you recently purchased that you bragged got 25 miles/gallon on the trip) to spend nine days relaxing, sight-seeing, and enjoying your family.

If there was a doubt in my mind (and there wasn't), this latest antic reinforced that you are still an idiot. I'm supposed to buy that you are on a nine day vacation in San Antonio, but you cannot afford a $50 vet bill? Really? Do you honestly think I am that obtuse??

On second thought, don't answer that.

I did sell my home, leave my career with a Fortune 500 company, and move both my son and I 500 miles to pursue what turned out to be a physically, verbally, financially and emotionally abusive relationship with you.

Let me take care of that vet bill.

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(28/43) 

SHUSH!

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Webster defines "shushing" as:

: to urge to be quiet : hush

I define it as one of the top ten things in life I hate. In fact, I would say there are few things in life I hate more than being SHUSHED!

I'm not talking about being an obnoxious idiot during a movie and being shushed, but those moments when someone shushes you "for your own good".

Let me give you an example.

Friday, my employer hosted an "Appreciation & Accomplishment" luncheon (a.k.a. a "We are too cheap to host an employee (and family) picnic any more, so we'll throw some tables and chairs in the warehouse and serve you a buffet of chicken, pulled pork sammiches (which we'll run out of half way through service), baked beans and pasta salad during your lunch hour and bask in our generosity" luncheon.

Anyway, one of my co-workers and I went down about 15 minutes after the luncheon started and secured ourselves a place at the end of the line. During this time, she asked me a question about a work issue I had been struggling with earlier in the day, so I responded.

Midway through my response, she put her finger to her lips and uttered, "SHUSH!"

*blink*

*blink*

Now wait just a minute here! You asked me a question and you dare SHUSH! me while I'm answering said question??

In her defense (not really - more like 'in her perspective' because I will not defend shushing), she was concerned that my blunt response would be overheard by other co-workers who were standing near us in line.

Here is the problem ...

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!

Had those co-workers asked me the same question I'd have given them the same response. I was not embarrassed by my words. I was not afraid someone would overhear my words. I owned those words, dammit!

With a rare exception, shushing should be reserved for children who interrupt adult conversations. Shushing during an adult conversation - with another adult - implies that you think the speaker is an idiot who needs you to save from their words.

I am not an idiot (most of the time)!

And I do not need saving!

I use words with much forethought. Yes, I am more often than not blunt to a fault. If I have a problem with you, you will be very aware of said problem because I will TELL you. No sugar-coated, passive-aggressive hints here. I am not going to waste my time trying to figure out a way to tell you something in a way that won't offend you because chances are? You need to be offended!

Is this always best practice in the work environment? Actually, I think it is exactly what the work environment needs - a little brutal honesty - but my co-workers clearly don't see it that way. They'd rather keep their heads down, their mouths shut, and fear The Man who signs their paycheck.

Fuck that!

And fuck you if you SHUSH me!

For the record? After being shushed I told my co-worker that she has known me long enough (4 years) to know what will happen when she asks me that type of question, and rather than shush me, maybe she should take ownership of her words.

I ate lunch by myself ... at my desk.

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(27/42)

Sunday Secret

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Enter the Wool Vagina ... into the Womb (Chair)

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(via freyja sewell)

That's right! It's a wool pod that is intended to replicate the comfort of being in your mother's womb.

Because we all long to travel back to the womb ... or something like that.

Are you a little sleepy at work? Thinking that crawling under your desk might be too obvious? Well then! Pull out you portable vagina, pull yourself back into the womb, and catch 40 winks.

From freyja sewell's website:

Open plan offices and public buildings, CCTV, online profile sharing, cameras built into our laptops; never has it been easier for humans to connect, but what about when we want to withdraw? The ‘womb’ shape inspires very different feelings in different people; to me it is a warm, cosy (her spelling) space, for contemplation and rest. There are now 21 cities with populations larger than ten million, and it is predicted that there will be many more in the future. Soaring property prices and lack of available space are causing more and more people to seek alternatives to owning their own home in the city, for example sharing your room with your partner, brother or friend. It is essential to continue to develop new ways of allowing people to comfortably co-exist in these increasingly densely populated environments.

I don't know ...

I'm feeling like I should wrap myself up in Saran Wrap before venturing in. I mean, who knows where that vagina/womb has been!

And besides, wool is terribly itchy!

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(25/39)

Who Am I?

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(via Sherifabdou | The Design Blog)

Struggling.

Not sure why.

There haven't been any catastrophic events.

Just life's little inconveniences sprinkled through an otherwise uneventful period of time.

I know that I'm not liking myself much these days and have convinced myself no one else does either.

I'm trying to fake it until I make it.

But I'm running out of fake. 

*shrugs*

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 (24/37)

Your Windows Are Steamy

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Thanks to today's Google Doodle, I learned that June 6th is the 79th anniversary of the first "Park-In" (Drive-In) theater in Camden, NJ.

I have vivid (and wonderful, which is odd for my childhood) memories of going to the drive-in theater with my parents when I was very young, and some pretty steamy memories of going to the drive-in theater without my parents when I was a teen.

The Bel-Kirk Drive-In was minutes from where I grew up, and even added a second screen in the early 70's.

I fondly remember the big, heavy speakers that sat on a pole between parking spaces, connected by a cord that was always just a little too short. They were made to rest on the top edge of the window, rolling it up to keep it in place (years later speakers were replaced by a radio signal). In the Seattle area, you could purchase this suction cup and tarp contraption at the concession stand to keep your window clear during those rainy nights (most nights). I remember always getting to play on the playground that sat in front of the screen. I'm pretty sure that's when my parents made out.

When we first moved to Illinois, we stumbled on the McHenry Outdoor Theater. Husband and I took Delaney and Cam there to see one of the first Harry Potter movies.

They were not impressed.

Actually, I wasn't either.

I like cushy chairs and mosquito free movie viewing.

Ahhhh ... the good old days ...

If you are feeling nostalgic, or just want to torture yourself, you can find your nearest drive-in [HERE] (putting in just the state gives you a complete list for the state).

Have you ever been to a drive-in? If so, what are your favorite memories?

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(23/30)

I Am A Conspiracy Theorist

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Conspiracy Theorist
  noun

1. A person who explains an event as being the result of a plot by a covert group or organization; a belief that a particular unexplained event was caused by such a group.

I confess, I am one of those people.

Unlike normal Conspiracy Theorists, I actually believe what the government tells me. I'm fairly certain that Obama is an American and that the attack on the World Trade Center was an outside job ... although I will admit to being a bit on the fence about the whole JFK thing.

Anywhoodle, I am not a normal Conspiracy Theorist.

My focus is on relationship conspiracies - specifically with romantic relationships.

My first pie chart - I'm such a proud math geek!

 

I have yet to find that place where I believe that I am loveable, and since I don't believe I'm loveable, if someone says they love me, it must be a conspiracy.

Just ask Mike. He was the recipient of such a theory yesterday.

I had the whole conspiracy theory typed up and ready to post here today. I let Mike read it last night and he asked that I not publish it. I'm still not certain why he made that request, but I have to believe there was a little piece of him that was worried the rest of you would call me out on my crazy.

It was crazy.

Of course, it wasn't like over the top crazy ... well ... if you ask me anyway. And of course there was no need to delete it (it's sitting in my drafts) because it's just not right to try to delete crazy! Besides, some day I can look back at it and proclaim, "Was I really that whacked at that moment?".

I do this as a form of self-protection. I conjure up the most ridiculous and painful scenario that I can. I create gobs of internal drama and anxiety, figuring that if something happens, some how - some way - I will then be better prepared to deal with it.

It won't catch me off-guard like Alan's suicide did.

Yeah ...

Crazy ...

And something I need to work on before my imagination destroys this very real and loving relationship.

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(22/29) 

Why Do I Follow You?

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I've gotten less and less tolerant on social media.

There was a time when I was concerned that someone might get their feelings hurt if I unfollowed them (quite narcissistic, actually), and I figured putting up with them was the nice thing to do.

Now?

Fuck that ... unless you say really stupid things - regularly - then I might continue following you so that I can make fun of you. Otherwise? The unfollow button is my friend.

I run into enough random stupid in real life - I don't need to invite it into my cyber world. And? I'm sure as hell not so important that being unfollowed by me should matter.

Your 17-year old son has a confederate flag as his profile image on facebook? UNFOLLOW.

 

The only time you interact with me is when you are making attempting to make snide remarks that you think are cute and cutting edge? UNFOLLOW.

You can't have your opinion challenged without getting petty and passive-aggressive on all social media platforms? UNFOLLOW.

Lashing out at me isn't enough so you throw my "buddies" into the mix when they have nothing to do with your angst? UNFOLLOW ... and BLOCK.

There seems to be this assumption of friendship? Loyalty? I'm not sure what ... when you've been following someone in social media for a while. They get all butt-hurt when you've finally had enough of them and unfollow.

You'd think they'd throw a party because you were finally gone, especially when it's clear the very sight of you on their dash gets them all hot and bothered.

Not usually the case.

I can't imagine anyone would care why I unfollowed, but if you have the gonads to ask? Don't be surprised when you get an honest answer. You might prefer to have a moment of faux superiority and publicly proclaim "Good Riddance!"

It's better for your ego that way.

This post brought to you by the number 2, the letters U and P,

and the colors green and yellow.

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(21/28)

Sunday Secret

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(20/27)

Marilyn Monroe Had Curves, I'm Just Fat!

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TLC premiered a new fashion series this week titled "Big Brooklyn Style". Because the show is produced by "What Not To Wear"'s Stacy London, I had high hopes that this would be a Fat Girl's Guide to What Not To Wear.

I was extremely disappointed.

What I got were two 30-minute infomercials for Lee Lee’s Valise Brooklyn Boutique (throwing a link there just in case she wants to send me one of those $168 dresses even though I thought the show sucked).

Each episode featured three woman who are full-figured, plus-sized, curvy, fat and as such, hate shopping for clothes. 

No big surprise there. Any woman who wears a size 16 or above knows that shopping for clothes is never fun. Although the average women's clothing size is a 14, only 18% of clothing retailers sell sizes 14 and above.

Want to enjoy shopping for clothes? Lose weight. It's that simple.

Anyway, if the premise of the show wasn't predictable enough, there were two additional issues that irritated me so much I was forced to eat an entire package of Oreo's to cope.

First? The use of the word "CURVY". 

I am so sick of people trying to find synonyms for fat that are politically correct. If I can say, without recourse, that a woman has curly hair, I should be able to say, without recourse, that a woman is fat ... especially since I am fat!

Here's a little primer for you.  See this? This is curvy.

Sure, she's carrying a few extra pounds, but she has a defined bust, waist and hips.

See this? This is fat.

She is carrying a few more extra pounds and her shape is more round than defined.

I am not implying that the fat girl is any less attractive than the curvy girl, just stating that these two bodies are very different. If we want to put people in boxes, let's make sure we put them in the correct box.

Me? I'm fat. My body looks much more like the bottom photo than the top photo.

The women in "Big Brooklyn Style" varied from curvy to fat, yet Lisa Dolan seemed to know only one adjective for her clientele - CURVY - and she repeated it again and again and again ...

Second? The Wrap Dress.

Lisa Dolan designs about eight different styles of dresses and they all look relatively the same. Most of them are v-neck (wrap/faux wrap) with an empire waist and a full skirt. Why? Because a dress in that style makes just about any woman look AMAZING.

She takes the guess work out of buying a dress ... and spends 30 minutes selling the viewers her $168 dress - a style of dress that I have picked up at Target, Avenue, Lane Bryant, and Torrid for about 1/4 the cost.

TLC could have done much better by offering a "What Not To Wear" type show for full-figured, plus-sized, curvy, fat girls that focused on dressing in a flattering, stylish way without spending $168/dress.

And Lisa Dolan? Please stop calling me curvy - I'm fat and am well aware that I am fat!

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(19/25)