god, reality and everything

I had a dream a few nights ago that people were all in an uproar because God had known the winners of a reality TV show before the end of the show. They--whoever they were--said that they shouldn't have allowed God to have chosen the contestants in the first place. I thought this was ridiculous because even if they selected someone to choose the contestants, many would argue that God was still the selector and determiner of the outcome due to his overall control over, well, everything.

Maybe I've just been watching too much reality TV. And, if you think about it, we are all part of God's reality programming. He just happens to be the show creator, director and viewer.

work computer

It takes forever to turn this baby on anymore.

I thought I knew what to do, the proper moves to make. But apparently the tried and true is tired out. And I wait and wait impatiently for it to warm up.

I haven't threatened it with going out and getting a new, younger, faster and prettier (beige is so out) model. But, trust me, I've been thinking about it.

new name

We just found out what the new name of our company is. Groan.

We're very excited about our new name because it's a great name that conveys a positive message and reflects the broad spectrum of media solutions we offer our customers.

Now, I'm not saying that I envy the job of trying to come up with a name for such a large organization, but I am hinting that I think I could have done a better job.

We ask everyone in the organization to enthusiastically embrace our new name. Carry it positively to the marketplace and avoid the inclination to say "why didn't we name it this or that." It was a very tough process and many excellent names weren't usable due to trademark issues. We were thrilled to find a name that says so much about our business and our goals--and that sounds great and that we can be very proud of.

The new name is kind of touchy-feely. Are they trying to sugarcoat over the fact that this is a money-hungry corporation? Change the name, but the company is still the same. It's corporate culture. It's money culture. And I'm the pee-on who helps make it all happen.

Hmm... I wonder if this post shows how ready I am to "enthusiastically embrace" the name? Well, from here on out I will. Yay! Go team!

the new yorker

Christmas came a little early for theCallowQueen thanks to kcprogrammer.

I'm a bit giddy.

Now I just have to be patient and wait until Jan. 16 for my first issue to arrive.

Right, I can do that. Everyone says patience is one of my best traits...

camera lover

Baby Series, Photo Two
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I've put up the beginning of a series of photos I took recently of my roomie’s nephew, Dominic, on Flickr.

And these pics knock down the ones of l42 on main window--which I'm sure she likes. But, for the rest, do not fear, I have new l42 photos to add. I just need to get around to doing that...

news bites

THE KING KONG CRAZE: Production costs ballooned from $185 million, to $207 million (some say closer to $230 million), as Jackson added fight scenes between Kong and dinosaurs and other action filler. In the end, the critics liked--but didn’t necessarily love--what Jackson had wrought. Meanwhile, the film’s dramatic trailers, with a snarling, leaping Kong, may have put off some female moviegoers, Hollywood insiders believe. (Source: Business Week Online)

COMMENTARY: I saw the trailer and wasn’t impressed. It was that snarling, leaping Kong that made me think the movie was yet another over-produced remake. And while the reviews were lukewarm, I didn’t know it from watching TV. The media’s latched on to this big ape as being the next “Titanic.” Goody. Just what we needed. They laud the behemoth movie at every turn. It was number one at the box office, trouncing Narnia and others, they say. But it also made quite a bit less than expected. And Jackson spent much more than he was initially given. I’m not going to see it.

APPRENTICE UNDER FIRE: Moments after Randall Pinkett was selected by Donald Trump to be the “Apprentice,” he made it clear he didn’t want any company. During the live broadcast, Trump, after hiring Pinkett, asked if he should hire Rebecca Jarvis, too. “It's not ‘The Apprenti,’ it's ‘The Apprentice,’” Pinkett said, shooting down Jarvis’ shot at a gig with Trump.

“I was surprised, because I think most people would have said hire Rebecca, too,” Trump said. “It shows he’s certainly an independent thinker.” … However, Jarvis won’t be out of work long. The folks at Yahoo offered her a job yesterday. (Source: New York Daily News)

And more from TVGuide.com:
TVGuide.com: The less-cynical fans have noted that your exact response to Trump was that he should not hire Rebecca “tonight.” Was that your way of saying, “Hey, I believe in her. Let’s just not give her a job at this particular moment, OK?”

Randal: I absolutely believe in Rebecca. The premise of the show that evening was to hire the Apprentice. I encourage Mr. Trump to bring Rebecca into the Trump organization--I think she would be a great addition--but competition is competition. I hate to see my favorite sports team lose, but I don’t expect them to share the title. Again, I have tremendous respect for Rebecca; I just think it was a situation where you had two very strong candidates. Mr. Trump could have easily made the decision himself if he wanted to hire both of us last night.

COMMENTARY: Fine, Randal won. I was good with that. But I found his attitude disgusting and completely out of character with the man we’d previously seen. My initial thought was that Randal was worried for the first time that The Donald would choose Rebecca. I know now that he had a good hint that both of them could be potentially hired. Remember, he did say to the eliminated candidates, “If you believe that I should be the sole and single Apprentice tonight, candidates please stand, please stand.”

He is welcome to his opinion. But I found his tact and lauded niceness lacking. Worse, in the end was Trump. First, he should have been clued into the fact that Randal wasn’t on the Apprenti bandwagon with the “sole and single Apprentice” remark. Second, he let a new hire decide for him. Who’s the boss? It was his decision, and when confronted with a unexpected response from Randal, he wilted. Sad. Sad for The Donald, who puts out a my-way-or-the-highway image. Sad for Randal, who lost all the credibility he’d gained throughout the show. Happy for Rebecca, who now has limitless job opportunities.

NO MORE IE: Microsoft will end support for Internet Explorer for Mac on December 31st, 2005, and will provide no further security or performance updates. (Source: Microsoft’s Mactopia website)

COMMENTARY: Yawn, not surprised. And good riddance.

GATES, GATES AND BONO: For being shrewd about doing good, for rewiring politics and re-engineering justice, for making mercy smarter and hope strategic and then daring the rest of us to follow, Bill and Melinda Gates and Bono are TIME's Persons of the Year. (Source: Time)

COMMENTARY: I really hate Microsoft. Really. I’d add them to my boycott list with Wal-Mart if their software weren’t so deeply entwined in the passage of information. But the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation provides great service, as well as a great tax write-off for Bill.

GOOGLING AOL: Time Warner has picked its partner--it’s going to marry off its AOL unit to Google for a dowry of $1 billion for 5% of the company, plus a share of ad revenue. That has the Google gang smiling, the jilted Microsoft suitors scowling and a lot of conventional-wisdom purveyors scratching their heads. Not only will Google retain AOL's pay-per-click dollars that make up 10% of its revenue, but it will forge a relationship with a huge content producer. The question is how Google, which has prided itself in the past for being a content-neutral guide to the Web, will be able to work with an Internet property that spends a lot of its energy rounding up proprietary stuff. In the meantime, Google CEO Eric Schmidt gets to bask in the glory of besting Bill Gates...

Microsoft … desperately wanted to pull AOL’s paid-search ads away from Google, but without a deal, Microsoft's search capabilities will lag further behind. People familiar with Microsoft’s thinking say that it didn't lose the deal over dollars--it certainly could have matched any financial offer--but that it had proposed a more complex deal than Google's offering. (Source: Forbes)

COMMENTARY: NOOOOO! First Flickr was bought by Yahoo! Now this. Sigh. I love Google. I fully support it. I know that it is on it’s way towards becoming a dominator and pain--at which time it will be added to my boycott list. But I had hoped it would take a slower course. I hate AOL. More important, AOL is stupid and unnecessary. Really, why do people still use AOL? What’s the point?

word of the day: sneakernetting

sneakernetting, verb. The act of updating or transferring content on a non-networked or offline machine by physical visits rater than remotely.

Example: Since I don't have access to the Internet at home, I've been sneakernetting my photos to my computer at work to upload them on the Internet.

Caveat: This is a made-up definition by theCallowQueen. The term sneaker-netting popped up in one of the articles I'm editing. I tried to search on the Web to figure out just what the heck it was and if that hyphen was needed. I'm still cloudy on both counts.

sob sob smile

l42 and Sanzo Pose
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

A photo from theCallowQueen's archives in memory of her dear friend lizalou42 who will be leaving next month to teach English in Japan.

Much love!

merry presents day

So this weekend I went with the girls to Pier 1 Import's outlet center in Independence. I bought a lot of stuff really cheap, which is good. I came home with three bulging bags that I plopped down on my bed.

I looked around my bedroom and felt overwhelmed. Stuff. Ugh. So much stuff. And these three bags do nothing but add to it. Sure, most of the items I bought at Pier 1 are giftable. But as I put them away in my now overflowing gift box, I was wondering if it was possible not to have a life that is stuff-centered.

Yesterday, I went through my closet and cleaned out a drawer. I threw out a bag-full of stuff. Three bags in. One bag out. I'm not exactly winning the battle here.

Maybe it's the holidays that is magnifying my frustration. I hate the perversion of Christmas into Present day. The weeks between Thanksgiving and Present Day are Crazy Shopping Season. Yet, I do it. Over lunch I'll probably be over at Micro Center trying to find the perfect present for my dad.

December is a busy month. There are social gatherings, sure. But it feels like to much time is spent shopping for others instead of being with others.

That's it. Next year, I'm crocheting scarves for all of you. Merry Present Day.

red eyed

I have a bottle of Louis Jadot Beaujolais-Villages sitting on the edge of my desk. It's a good inexpensive wine, by the way.

My co-workers walk by, eyeing it greedily.

I fend them off.

This baby is mine. And I will protect it, so I have something to give my fellow movie-watchers tonight.

It is a bit mean of me, I suppose, to taunt them, but I couldn't leave the bottle in the car to freeze. And, frankly, I do enjoy taunting.

snow day

I woke at 7. It was one of those full-bodied, I-was-sleeping-soundly-and-rudely-awakened-by-my-alarm. I got up. Stumbled to the kitchen. Ate a brownie and peered out the window. My car sat coldly under a thick layer of white. The lot hadn't been cleared. But cars were smoothly gliding down Antioch.

I decided to call work's emergency weather line. My managing editor had told me the day before that in the many years she's worked here (13-plus would be my guess) that they'd only closed the office a few times due to snow. But, hoping for a bit of luck, I dialed the number.

Shocked at what I heard, I repeated the message.

The office was closed! And I, being so sure that I'd be trudging into work the next day, had not brought anything home to work on. I was free for a day! I went back to bed.

I heard those poor, miserable work-bound souls scraping off their cars under my bedroom window. I put in my earplugs and went back to sleep.

I rolled over. The bright sun reflecting off the white snow put so much light in my room that it pierced through my eyelids, waking me from my luxurious sleep. I put on a sleeping mask and rolled over.

At 11 a.m., I decided I needed to roll my lazy @ss out of bed. But it was wonderful. Just wonderful.

I lounged on the couch and watched a marathon of "America's Next Top Model." (Yes, I'm admitting to it. If I'm going to waste time, I want to really waste time. Oh, I miss those days of watching marathons of old "Real Worlds.") I was semi-productive. I did label and stamp the newsletter to mail out today.

Then, around 2 p.m., it was time to face the world. I took the broom and my keys and went out to tackle my snow-iced car. Before I could open the car door, I needed to get rid of the snow on the roof of the car that would fall onto my driver's seat. I loved the feeling of the snow as I pushed it off. It was soft, dry snow, which is the best kind. It moves when asked and requires little scraping. I got into it. Then I realized I wasn't holding my keys.

I searched the snow and saw no evidence of them. Shite. I had an appointment in 20 minutes. I began sweeping the snow around my car. Nothing. I retraced my steps, sweeping. Nothing. Shite. Shite. Shite. I was nearing full panic mode. I swept deeper and deeper into the snow. Finally, I found them deep down in compacted snow. Whew! And I even was able to make it to my appointment on time (OK, a minute late--but that's on time for me).

That evening I bumped the heater up an extra notch (thanks, roomie, for not getting mad), and snuggled under a blanket with my boy to watch "The Apprentice" (and enjoy delivered Wheat State pizza). I'm really torn this season. I like both Randal and Rebecca. Randal was my favorite by a smidge, but after last night's episode, I'm leaning a little more toward Rebecca. I think The Donald should hire them both.

be safe kids

The roads are horrible today (and the drivers are worse). So drive safely, because I love you and I don't want you to die. (And because I'd miss out on receiving Christmas presents if you did meet a snowy demise.)

Take care!

if i were a coder

I wouldn't have spent this last hour (and perhaps a bit more) trying to adapt this code. I added the ability to create a link from my blog to others (in case someone ever chose to use the function). And then I decided I'd like it to have the same show-hide function that my comments have.

So I went back to the original hack I applied to the comments and tried to do the same for the backlinks. I was so proud of myself. It worked--or so I thought until I actually republished my blog. It seems to work on the first post on my main blog page and on each individual blog entry page. But it's not working on the older entries on my main blog page. Harrumph!

Hey, I've got a boyfriend who's a programmer. Hey, kcprogrammer, help? You'll earn major usefulness points ;)

thecallowqueen in slate

Breathe, girl. Remember to breathe.

I was checking to see the pages people came from to get to my blog this past week. Ten of them had come from the same place and it wasn't from a friend's blog. (Thanks to my friends, by the way, for providing those useful links!)

So, I went to this site that had funneled potential new readers my way. My jaw dropped. One of my comments from my last "news bites" post was used in Slate's "Today's Blogs" for Dec. 1.

It's not a big mention, and it's toward the end. But, oh my, I can't believe it. I felt famous for a good minute on this one.

You can read the article and search for theCallowQueen here.

Addendum: theCallowQueen also found that Newsweek used an excerpt from a past "news bite" commenting on it's article about "The best 100 schools in America." You can see the mention here. And here's the original post.

christmas rock the house

Loud music came flooding out of my boss' office earlier this week. It sounded like he was having a Christmas rave in his office. Here's what I heard and what he was watching: http://media.engadget.com/videos/lights.wmv (Windows Media Player required to view).

He was all excited about it and wants to do the same thing to his house next year.

He says that the guy who set this up has each section of lights on a different switch and he had to program it switch by switch. It must have taken him forever. The song is quite long. I wonder what the neighbors must think of him.

news bites

NICK-JESSICA SPLIT: The pair who went from middling pop singers to A-list celebrities through the TV show "Newlyweds" about their life as a couple, said in a statement on Wednesday they were separating after three years of marriage. (Source: CNN)

COMMENTARY: Yet another failed Hollywood marriage. Anyone surprised? Oh, and there are rumors that she’s pregnant with either Nick’s or Bam’s baby. Spicy! >rolls eyes< And did anybody notice that I went to CNN for this news bite? Good, old, trusty CNN.

TAFF PLEADS GUILTY: In court Monday, Taff admitted for the first time that he knew he was wrong in using the campaign dollars for a home mortgage loan at the time he made the loan application. … In August 2004, Taff narrowly lost the Republican nomination in the Kansas 3rd Congressional District to Kris Kobach, a law professor. Kobach lost in November to U.S. Rep. Dennis Moore, a Democrat. Two years earlier, when Taff was the GOP candidate against Moore, Taff came closer than any other contender had come to upsetting Moore. (Source: Kansas City Star)

COMMENTARY: OK, this Taff thing is small potatoes compared with the fraud problems coming to light in the higher echelons of the Republican Party. Whatever. This is here. My mom wanted me to vote for Taff. Ha! She also wanted me to vote for Kobach. Ha! Three cheers for Dennis Moore!

HE FOUGHT THE LAW--AND THE LAW WON: The life of Nguyen Tuong Van ends today. … On December 12, 2002, Nguyen Tuong Van, then 22, was caught at Singapore airport with 396.2 grams of heroin strapped to his body and hidden in his bag. He was headed for Melbourne hoping the drug deal would settle his brother's debts. … Now, 396.2 grams of heroin is a lot, given you only need to be holding 15 grams in Singapore to get the death penalty. … 396.2 grams. That translates into about 26,000 fisted forearms. That's a lot of wrecked lives. …

In an endeavour to save his life, the media, deathpenalty opponents and Nguyen supporters have played on the image of "little boy lost" to recast Nguyen's public persona from convicted drug trafficker to a condemned young man -- a fallen angel with a kind heart and a lot to live for who made the tiny mistake of trying to pass through sovereign Singaporean territory with half a kilogram of smack under his shirt. … Those defending Nguyen have dusted off stock arguments against the death penalty, the favourite being how "statistics show it doesn't act as a deterrent". This sounds like logical argument, but isn't. (Source: The Age. Read the full article here.)

COMMENTARY: This was third from the top on Google News. Part of me is like, “Hello! It’s Singapore. What was he thinking? If you can’t buy chewing gum because they’re afraid of you mucking up their sidewalks, why would you think they’d be okie dokie with you transporting heroine?" The sympathetic part of me is like, “The death penalty? That’s really harsh--the ultimate harsh.”

It reminds me of Star Trek: The Next Generation when they visit a new world and Wesley unknowingly goes into a restricted zone. The one punisment served for every crime: death. So Picard has to do all of this moral-legal wrangling to save the boy and not break the Prime Directive. And, so I don’t seem like a complete geek, my first thought wasn’t of Star Trek, it was of that American kid who was caned for spray-painting cars in Singapore. America was in an outrage then. What would be the media coverage if it were an American this time and not an Australian?

crap class

I'm in my InDesign training right now. The class is a total disappointment. I think I know more about InDesign than the instructor. She can't get her computer to work. She can't get her program to work. She continually runs off topic. She goes way too slowly considering there are only four people in the class. It's a train wreck. The previous class I took here at New Horizons was much better.

And for this I went into work on Sunday.

Ugh.

work on the lord's day

Sunday, the day of rest. My apologies to the Almighty for being at work today. He doesn't want me here. I don't want me here. But here I am.

smoke out

I love bonfires. I love how the good smoke smell lingers. But the wood smoke smell that once permeated my sweater, jacket and hair are fading quickly. Sigh. It was good while it lasted. Hats off to the Kauffmans for another great bonfire.

news bite

STUPID SONY CDS: As a result of significant difficulties with a copy-protection feature of CDs released on the Sony BMG label, Sony released this statement.

We are aware that a computer virus is circulating that may affect computers with XCP content protection software. The XCP software is included on a limited number of Sony BMG content protected titles. This potential problem has no effect on the use of these discs in conventional, non-computer-based, CD and DVD players.

Sony reports that over the past eight months it shipped more than 4.7 million CDs with the XCP copy protection. More than 2.1 million of those discs have been sold.

The content protection feature was created by British company First 4 Internet. When a listener puts the disc into a computer's CD drive, it displays a license agreement. If the listener accepts, it installs the copy protection rootkit onto the hard drive. A rootkit is a piece of software that takes control of a computer at a basic level. It establishes root access instead of traditional access that a regular user sees. The rootkit can prevent the user from being able to use certain functions of the CD. As a side effect, the rootkit allows certain computer viruses to take advantage of the access to infect a computer.

The Electronic Frontier Foundation has a list of CDs that it knows are affected by the XCP function. (This is not a complete list and Sony-BMG continues to refuse to make such a list available to consumers. Consumers can spot CDs with XCP by inspecting a CD closely, checking the left transparent spine on the front of the case for a label that says "CONTENT PROTECTED." The back of these CDs also mention XCP in fine print.)

Trey Anastasio, Shine (Columbia)
Celine Dion, On ne Change Pas (Epic)
Neil Diamond, 12 Songs (Columbia)
Our Lady Peace, Healthy in Paranoid Times (Columbia)
Chris Botti, To Love Again (Columbia)
Van Zant, Get Right with the Man (Columbia)
Switchfoot, Nothing is Sound (Columbia)
The Coral, The Invisible Invasion (Columbia)
Acceptance, Phantoms (Columbia)
Susie Suh, Susie Suh (Epic)
Amerie, Touch (Columbia)
Life of Agony, Broken Valley (Epic)
Horace Silver Quintet, Silver's Blue (Epic Legacy)
Gerry Mulligan, Jeru (Columbia Legacy)
Dexter Gordon, Manhattan Symphonie (Columbia Legacy)
The Bad Plus, Suspicious Activity (Columbia)
The Dead 60s, The Dead 60s (Epic)
Dion, The Essential Dion (Columbia Legacy)
Natasha Bedingfield, Unwritten (Epic)

(Sources: Radio, CNET, and The Electronic Frontier Foundation)

COMMENTARY: We all agree this is annoying and stupid on the part of Sony. When will this company learn that being so closely guarded hurts itself. Sony is too big, too broad and tries to protect too much. That’s the reason Sony isn’t leading the MP3 wave. It was too busy trying to protect it’s record label’s profits that it failed to enter the MP3 player market with anything customer usable. Perhaps Sony will fare better with Blu-ray. But if it loses out to HD-DVD, I hope the company has learned to jump on board and go with the new media.

my little butterfly

Flutter By
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

Ai ai ai
Ai ai ai
Ai ai ai
Where's my Samurai

I've been searching for a man
All across Japan
Just to find
To find my samurai

Someone who is strong
But still a little shy
Yes I need
I need my samurai

Ai ai ai
Your little butterfly
Green, black and blue
Make the colors of the sky

I finally loaded my pictures from lizalou42's birthday and Halloween party on Flickr. You can click on this picture of the G-man to see the rest. And, if you haven't already, check out l42's pics.

mark your calendars

Wednesday: New episode of Lost starts at 8 p.m. All are welcome to come over and watch. We'll probably watch last week's episode first for those who missed it.

Friday: My roomie's 26th birthday! Harry Potter at 7 p.m. and birthday cake eating at 10 p.m. For those of you who've received an evite to her party and haven't yet responded, please do so.

Saturday: A bonfire at the K. Yay! It's been a long time. Party starts 7ish. Bring friends; it's a Kauffman family tradition.

la révolution

The G-man and I took my roomie to see Les Misérables on Saturday. I love this musical. Much of the movie centers on the oppression of the poor in France (circa 1830) and one group's attempt to ignite a revolution. Seeing it now, with the current unrest in France, seemed fitting.

At the End of the Day
At the end of the day you're another day older.
And that's all you can say for the life of the poor.
It's a struggle, it's a war.
And there's nothing that anyone's giving.
One more day standing about
What is it for?
One day less to be living.

Do You Hear the People Singing?
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men?
It is the music of the people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums,
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

g-man pins a girl?

G-man Pins A Girl?
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I'm tired. Haven't slept well the past few nights. So, while my brain is taxed with the challenges of making sure I stay upright in my chair, I'll share with you a recent photo from MattZ's birthday.

The second prize for the most shocking T-shirt at MattZ's birthday party goes to Roller Derby Girl. (MattZ won first prize. See a pic of him here if you dare.)

Remember the G-man's previous bout with her? Well, the G-man beat her this time. See what happened at their first match here. See the start of the G-man's second match with the Roller Derby Girl here.

staff meeting and execution

This was the subject line of an e-mail my editorial director sent out to the staff last week. The execution happened yesterday. We thought me might not survive it. We decided that those who did survive most surely deserved lunch with margaritas.

To stay the execution, we tried to prepare. We poured through the September and October issues, looking for errors, looking for ways to improve. In the staff meeting, we were drilled, we were quizzed, and we were awarded prizes? Huh? Where's the execution? To our surprise, we all survived. And my margarita at lunch sure tasted good.

word of the day: globber

globber, verb. This is the noise made by a live, swamp-dwelling mattress that is deeply moved by a story of personal tragedy. The word can also, according to the Ultra-Complete Maximegalon Dictionary of Every Language Ever, mean the noise made by the Lord High Sanvalvwag of Hollop on discovering that he has forgotten his wife's birthday for the second year running. Since there was only ever one Lord High Sanvalvwag of Hollop and he never married, the word is only used in a negative or speculative sense, and there is an ever-increasing body of opinion that holds that the Ultra-Complete Maximegalon Dictionary is not worth the fleet of trucks it takes to cart its microstored edition around in.

Source: Life, the Universe and Everything

whining about counting crows clash

So I'm slowly working my way through all my mp3s. Many of them are from Big-Bold-D. Nannette is filled with artists from the front of the alphabet. And that includes a probably the entire song libraries for the Counting Crows and the Clash. So random isn't all that random right now.

Now, I like both bands. But I'm about to start deleting here in a moment. Both bands are forcing me to listen to way too much morose, pity-me, why-me, I-feel-pain whiny music. And I'm getting sick of it. I never really thought of the Counting Crows as being particularly whiny. But they are. They're almost nouveau Clash.

In short, both bands have some really great songs, but both have a propensity to wax on in whiny voices on too many of their not-so-great songs.

my mission

Today, I will attempt to eat all of my Halloween chocolate. That way it won't tempt me tomorrow.

editor's angst

I hate PR people today. I hate their demanding tone. I hate their expectation that I'm going to bend over and let them have it their way. I have some respect for myself as an editor, you know. I will fight back (though I will do it with a fake smile and simulated regret). I won't allow them to turn my articles into complete advertorials.

Have some trust in me, PR people. Your products will sound better without all of your fluff words and crazy-constructed passive-voice sentences. Let me do my freakin' job or buy an ad in our magazine and run all the crapified, overly wordy text that you like. Oh, I like that option much better. It saves me work and makes the magazine money.

perfect-fit jeans

Yesterday, I went jeans shopping for the first time in years. And I mean years. I bought two pairs of jeans when I was in Singapore a few years ago. Other than that, I have a vague memory of buying jeans in high school. Now, I remember why.

Women, you know the options.

combine
sits at waist
sits below waist
low rise
ultra low rise

with
boot cut
tapered
flare
straight

with
tall
medium
short

with
your size

and you get a pair of jeans that is baggy in the butt or gappy in the back at the waist or some variation of not attractive.

There are more possible options, but my mind hurts thinking about them. I didn’t even get into the whole relaxed and skinny fit issue. The combinations are mind boggling, though I’m sure Big-Bold-D could whip them up for us in a few seconds.

I think I tried most of the combinations yesterday. And I came to this conclusion: I hate jeans. I mean, the idea of them is nice, but finding a pair that fits that idea is gosh darn impossible.

Here’s why: the jeans manufacturers’ combination of fits isn’t right they are taking into consideration two important elements (waist and ass). Here's how I think we ladies should be able to pick jeans:

combine
pudgy pooch
standard waist
mini middle

with
huge hips
standard hips
hipless

with
big ass
standard butt
flat, little bum

with
weekend relaxing/I feel fat today
crisp, can wear with a button down shirt to work/looks great in boots
date/make an ex jealous/I feel sexy today
I can see your underwear line/whore

with
tall
medium
short

with
your size

Let’s see, I’d want a pudgy pooch, standard hips, flat, little bum, crisp, can wear with at button down shirt to work/looks great in boots fit in a short. And even if they did carry a pair that fits all those details, I'd still have to try to find a pair in my size. You know, skirts are very nice.

family stuff

My maternal grandmother just moved into a retirement community. I spent the weekend helping my grandma, aunt and mom pack up Grandma's things. (I spent five minutes arguing with her about why she needn't keep What Color is My Parachute 1986.) I wasn't able to help out on Monday--the day the moving trucks came. But I went over to the new place after work yesterday. Grandma was beaming. I don't remember the last time I so her so happy. It may have been at her and Grandpa's 50th wedding anniversary, but even then she had the stress and worry of Grandpa being sick.

Now, in this new place, she can be nearly stress free for a time. Dealing with all the stuff left behind at the old house can come later. She showed me every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen. She explained the placement of every piece of furniture. She talked about plans for arrange pictures. And she said she wished Grandpa could see it. He does, my aunt told her. And he's happy to see her happy.

Anyway, I'll probably head over there after work today to help with more unpacking. I want to give Grandma as much support as I can. This process has been so terribly hard for her. It's also motivated me to start going though and purging my belongings. Use it or lose it.

I told Mom that I was not going through this process with her. She'll either need to be very receptive to getting rid of stuff, or I'll send her away for a day and she'll come home to a near-empty house. I see so much of Grandma's hoarding tendency in Mom and me. This could be me, my stuff, my life. It really sank in this weekend.

as far from god

I'm editing an article on a humongous church that seats 16,000 in its sanctuary/arena and broadcasts to more than 200 million people around the world. You've probably seen the pastor on TV. Now, many of you know that theCallowQueen has issues with many televangelists. I find them often to use religion and the promise of God's gifts to believers to manipulate viewers for their own gain.

So, I'm editing this article and listening to Yahoo! Launchcast. And the song that I'm listening to is Garbage's "As Heaven Is Wide." And I hear the line, "As far from God," and it just fit. It fit with my feelings about this gargantuan church that calls an arena filled with 16,000 people a sanctuary. It fit with my feelings about the manipulations and lies that pervert Christianity. It fit with my feelings about how people feel after they realize they've been taken in and are left questioning their faith.

Nothing said could change the fact
My trust was blind
You broke the pact
If God's my witness, God must be blind

If flesh could crawl
My skin would fall
From off my bones
And run away from here

As far from God
As heaven is wide
As far from God
As angels can fly

a saved by the bell education

OK, I'm editing this article on FFC rules and children's programming. The United Church of Christ is challenging the licenses of several stations, claiming they aren't providing educational and informational children's programming. And while the FCC and the Children's Television Act mandates station serve the educational and informational needs of children, the FCC includes such shows as "Saved by the Bell" as meeting these needs. And while I'm not in favor of the FCC becoming a children's television watchdog, common sense would tell most of us that Zack et. al. will not provide much in the way of beneficial knowledge to kids, except maybe that:

If the teacher pops a test,
I know I'm in a mess,
And my dog ate all my homework last night.
Riding low in my chair,
She won't know that I'm there,
If I can hand it in tomorrow it'll be all right.
It's all right,
'cos I'm Saved by the Bell.

flirt

I am a shameless flirt. Shameless.

time wash

Morning. I wake, rub my eyes, stumble into the bathroom to take a shower. There's something about the rushing water, the enclosed space behind the shower curtain that seems to cut one off from the rest of the world. It's as if time, life is suspended. Then one finally turns off the shower, opens the shower curtain, and realizes that time hasn't stopped. In fact, it's sped forward. Stupid time.

stuffed

I ate out way too much this weekend. Uno's, Panera, Zio's, BoLings and Wheat State with Sylas and Maddy's all filled my tummy from Friday evening to Sunday's end. I'm so full. But it was all so good.

flower points

Here's another dating tip for the guys: Showing up with three, long-stemmed, peach roses on your second date with a girl will earn you major points. The point spread varies but is higher for guys who the girl wouldn't expect to be the flower-bearing type. So, for you non-metrosexuals, this is a great boost for you (especially if you plan to wear your jeans and that old, faded polo shirt).

And why peach? Well, red is way too serious; that's reserved for loves. Pink is on its way to being too serious; this is only the second date. White is too pure and friendly; we know that doesn't match your thoughts of her. The peach is a subtler pink; perfect for new possibilities.

please note

theCallowQueen is having a rather good hair day. This pleases her.

my friends, their moms, and me

I had a dream a few nights ago. After the dream I woke and thought to myself, "Now that's a dream I should remember." I then promptly forgot the dream until now.

I started to write out the long version, but I won't bore you with it.

The short version: I was competing in a reality show (mix "The Amazing Race" and "The Apprentice"). I stopped off to take advantage of a Clinique sale at the mall. Where the Clinique woman--who happened to be l42's mom--said that they didn't sell toner at this mall and I'd have to go across town. (Note for the guys: Toner is the second part in most women’s three-step skin care regimes. It comes after the cleanser and before the moisturizer. So the idea that this one item would not be stocked is ridiculous.)

I bought something and hurried away to continue on with my mission. I ended up in this Halloween-like town, where I was told to put on my costume for the final judging. I didn't remember to bring my costume. Big-Bold-D was talking to his mom on the phone. I knew she was going to be coming to see the final judging, so I begged him to ask her to bring toilet paper and tape. I used these items to make a wedding dress in the few short minutes I had. I looked a bit like the corpse bride.

I don't remember who won. Not that it mattered; the competition was obviously rigged.

And, yeah, this was the short version.

sluggish

I've been in a bit of a funk the past few days--probably due to this acid reflux ick and being home and not as social. My sleeping schedule is all out of kilter, and I had all these thoughts running through my head. So, when I woke up at 3 a.m. I tried to go back to sleep, failed, and then went to the gym.

The gym is such an odd place at 4 a.m. The staff outnumbers the members. They had one guy at the desk watching a movie and two people cleaning. There was only one other person working out when I arrived. All those machines sitting silent feels so unnatural. The place is usually so busy, bustling, and sweaty. I started with the StairMaster of Doom, which was beautifully clean and sweat-and-spilt-sport-drink-free. Even a clean StairMaster of Doom sucks, though.

But my body is beginning to right itself. I just have to keep eating bland, boring food and taking that little purple pill. Ugh.

Now for the side note that got me started thinking about all of this: It looks like a fat, green slug is sleeping under my skin. It's really just the bruise from the IV they put in my hand. But I feel sluggish, so I see sluggish.

thecallowqueen goes to south park

Yeah, that's Nanette, my iPod Nano and constant friend, at my waist.

See l42's on her blog. (And the boys are so cute!)

Visit South Park Studio 2 to make your own.

absent

I'm here but not.
I haven't left but will return.

word of the day: reggaeton

reggaeton, noun. A form of dance music of Latin American origin, incorporating elements of reggae, hip-hop, and other genres. Also reggeatón.

And example from the Village Voice: Sometimes I think I'm the only person around who likes the idea of reggaetion better than the actual music.

I, of course, chose this word because it's cousin, hick-hop, was a past word of the day.

celebrities and chocolate

My roomie and I went to the Chocolate Festival this weekend at Union Station. Saturday morning I was at the gym about to begin my walking lunges (forward singles, doubles, triples and backward singles--yeah, it hurts) when one of the guys at a nearby machine asked another what the Chocolate Festival was.

My ears did that little perky thing. I looked up and mentioned that I was going to the Chocolate Festival. The other guy said he'd be there from 1:30 to 3 p.m. He said it in this formal kind of way. Then it registered: Oh my, that's Gary Lezak! Ha! The NBC weatherman works out at my gym. Anyway, we chatted for a bit and then I continued on with my lunges.

Mary and I did end up seeing him at the Chocolate Festival with his dog Stormy. We each got a free rain poncho, too. (Yeah, we're so cool.) Most of the booths were chocolate related. I had no idea that Better Cheddar had so many chocolate products!

We each had a ticket to enter in the raffle of our choosing. And we actually won one of them! My roomie should be picking up our Mary Kay gift basket today after work.

Now I have a weatherman problem. Ever since Bryan Busby came to my grade school, he has been my weatherman. When I need to know the weather, I turn to him first. (OK, I often turn to the Weather Channel first, but if I've missed my local on the 8s, then I look to Busby.) But now that I've met Lezak, I'm reconsidering this whole thing. I mean he goes to my gym; he must be a superior weatherman. ;)

sold

It's official. My company traded hands today. Had a company phone call with excited heads talking about what a wonderful opportunity this is and how great we are. Received e-mails from excited heads on what a wonderful opportunity this is and how great we are. Don't they know that we minions only want to know who's going to be let go and what our benefits will be?

This is the second time the company I've worked at has been bought. The first acquisition had some real rough patches. I don't expect the same with this one. Other than my insurance, I'm really not that worried. Yes, G-man, I realize I may be eating those words in a few months. Whatever. If it begins to suck here like it did at my last job, I'll just find another freakin' job. But, again, I don't expect that to happen.

second base

OK, guys, now pay attention. I know this is going to be hard to understand. So I'll type really slowly. A second date does not mean you should try to steal second base. I may have let you walk to first, but that doesn't give you permission to try to run the bases.

a late start

I woke up at 5 a.m. with heartburn. Yes, I should go to the doctor; I know. I took a Pepcid, hoping it would go away. It didn't. I got up at 6 to bug my roomie just before she left for work. Then I sat in front of the TV watching crappy local news and music videos on VH1. VH1, by the way, is SO FREAKIN' ANNOYING. They list the new music that they're going to play. One of the artists was Fiona Apple. Hey, cool, I'll watch for that. The time passes. It's 7, and they're playing Mariah Carey's Shake it Off AGAIN. And still no Fiona. They play the Black Eyed Peas AGAIN. And that Kanye West guy, too. (I ain't sayin' she's a gold digger my ass.) So I'm getting annoyed. And my stomach isn't calming down for me either. Somewhere in here I've taken a shower and dressed and found my shoes. And still no Fiona. Sigh. But I got to see the Sheryl Crow video twice. The art in it is pretty cool. Too bad I don't care for the song.

So I leave for work. Realize that I forgot my book to read over lunch. Go back and grab my book. Go out to the car. Realize that I left my lunch on the table. Go back and grab my lunch.

I finally get to work and it looks a bit like a tailgating party. People are milling around the parking lot. Some are sitting in folding chairs. The office is closed. Power outage. Finally someone posts a note that we're to go home and check in at 11:30 to see if the power has been returned and we can return to work.

I go home. Hey, maybe they haven't shown that Fiona video. Turn on VH1. Crap. Mariah. Flip to other randomness. Flip back to VH1. Kanye again? You've got to be shittin' me. They have all morning to actually play music videos. It's a precious, rare time on the station, and they choose to play the same five videos over and over again? So annoying. Oh, and the new Ricky Martin song sucks. No surprise.

Then I switched channels to watch "Starting Over." This season has a twist. Instead of it being a house full of women looking to get their lives back on track. They have four or five couples. It's a little strange. We don't often show men being made so venerable and crying and talking about the deep issues in such a fashion.

After watching the couple trying to work through their crap, I felt a little better about my petty life. And my tummy had calmed down a bit. I ate some toast and came into work. Yay. (Um, that really wasn't an enthusiastic yay. I'd really rather be at home taking a nap.)

elevated tension

We humans like space, distance from those who we do not have a familiarity with. It’s interesting to watch how people act when this natural desire for space is hampered. A good example of this is in the elevator. Elevators are small, cramped and enclosed. You must stand quite near others. Sure, there’s the sliding to the corner trick, but that only works up to a certain body count.

I don’t know which is more awkward: being pressed against others in a full elevator or standing in the enclosed silence with just one other passenger. With the single passenger, there’s an almost pressing need to fill the silence, make small talk, something. Instead the silence grows thicker with ever floor.

Then the door opens and you meet fresh air and open space.

big grin

TheCallowQueen had a good weekend. Yay!

green light

Dune is totally warping my brain. A few nights ago I dreamt a green light woke me up in my old bedroom. The furniture was sparse and pushed back against the walls. Bleary-eyed, I looked up at the green light. It was a long globe in the center of the ceiling. It seemed to be filled with a greenish liquid. Giant rats rolled around inside the liquid, fighting and biting each other. It was eerie. Not my usual kind of dream to have. And, G-man, I blame you.

in the ghetto

Did you know that I lived in the ghetto of Johnson County? First of all, the idea of there being a bad part of town in white, middle-class, snotty Johnson County is a bit funny. Second, I think I live in a great area. I've got good highway access. I live next to a beautiful park. It's just a short hop to the Plaza. And the rent's cheap.

My roomie and I were out at dinner recently with friends when the topic of where we'd like to live came up. I'd love to consider remaining in Merriam and finding a house here. My friend said Merriam was her second-to-least favorite city in Johnson County. Apparently, Merriam is JoCo's slums. This made my roomie and I laugh. We grew up in Wyandotte County, and to us Merriam seems upscale.

My roomie mentioned this to her sister who now lives near the Shawnee/Lenexa boarder, and her sister admitted that her husband didn't like for her to be in Merriam after dark. And these aren't the only two references I've heard recently about Merriam being JoCo's slum.

It's just funny. My roommate and I think we're moving up and we move from one avoided place to another. I guess it's not that much of a surprise. My roomie and I see more to Wyandotte than poverty and crime. I actually saw little crime or violence growing up there. So, it makes sense that we don't see the faults in Merriam that others in Johnson County see. As for crime, someone egged my brand new car at 99th and Glenwood. Overland Park better watch out or it could be the next Merriam.

a lost weekend

Much of my weekend was devoted to watching "Lost" in preparation for the season premier this Wednesday. My efforts paid off. I've brought four into the Lost fold. May the island be happy with my contribution.

And I've made a good dent in reading Dune. It's beginning to warp my thinking, which I bet the G-man will be happy to hear. During the "Lost" episode where Boone is mega hurt, all I could think about was how Jack was making a poor water decision. In Dune, they live on this planet with very little water. Never mind, this won't make any sense to those who haven't read the book. Anyway, the book's concepts are lodged in my head and pop out in the oddest settings.

And Nanette (my iPod Nano) and I are having a good morning at work.

highs and lows

My editorial director is out for two weeks. My managing editor is gone for the day. That just leaves the assistant editor and me to take on a 36-page supplement that we didn't know had to go to pre-press today. We just go the final imposition (layout for the articles and ads) yesterday afternoon. The author was still missing chunks of his articles and some photos.

My editorial director called to tell me the supplement WOULD go out today. Is he crazy? Things got worse. The author decided that he couldn't give us his changes over e-mail and the phone, so he came in instead. Not only is he drawing out the process. I'm getting nothing done. And he's harassing my assistant editor. If he attempt to get into it with her one more time about problems that aren't even her fault, I'm going to have to take him aside and have a chat with him. (Either that or watch the assistant editor kill him.) This is just not acceptable.

On an up note: My iPod Nano came in the mail yesterday. It's wonderful.

question of the day

From under the lid of my mango white tea: What if the Hokey Pokey IS what it's all about?

Deep thoughts to consider over my lunch break--maybe too deep.

blood

I gave blood this morning. Then I blacked out. I woke to a huddled mass of Community Blood Center workers yelling my name. I think one of them had been tapping on my face. My shoe was dangling from my ankle, and my book had fallen to the floor, so I knew I must have been shaking too.

The other blood-givers' eyes were huge, and they stared at me. For the next hour I was pumped with apple juice, water, and Oreo cookies. They took my blood pressure and pulse again and again.

Back at my desk I learned that I'd won a prize in the raffle: a red plastic bracelet that reads, "GIVEBLOOD."

I keep telling everyone I'm fine. I ate a big lunch like they told me to. And now, sitting here, I feel exhausted. Maybe I'll go home early.

subject missing

I realize that I’ve posted nothing on this blog about Katrina. I’m sad and frustrated by the whole thing. I’ve stopped watching most newscast about it, which is almost the same as not watching news. Even so, I'll still listen to NPR, but then TV news really pales in comparison with NPR.

I'm really not going to comment on this much. I wouldn't do the topic justice (and my ranting would become a little annoying). That is all.

come get lost

The new season of LOST begins on Wednesday, Sept. 21. And I thought the best way to begin season two would be with a season one LOST marathon. We're working on a short schedule to fit in all 24 episodes before the season premier. (Dang that DVD release date.)

The LOST watching schedule:
Sunday, Sept. 11, 3 p.m. to 9 p.m.
Wednesday, Sept. 14, 6 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Sunday, Sept. 18, 3 p.m. to 9 p.m.
Tuesday, Sept. 20, 7 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Wednesday, Sept. 21, 6 p.m. with the season premier at 8 p.m.

Let me know if you're interested in stopping by (be it for a few episodes or the whole dang thing); seating is limited.

Come and enjoy my addiction.

rush, hurry, but be careful

Gee, people! Everyone's hounding me today. They're so hungry for something, I half expect to find one of them trying to gnaw of one of my limbs in an attempt to get something from me. If they can't have their article, their photo, or whatever else they came for, it seems they'll settle for a finger or a toe, though a few have wanted an arm and a leg.

Whew! What a morning!

sexual harassment

Today was the deadline to take the what is sexual harassment training course. It was this online tutorial about how sexual harassment is unwelcome content of a sexual nature that would offend a reasonable person and is used as a basis for blah, blah, blah.

Side note: I'm listening to "I'm Not Wearing Underwear Today" from Avenue Q.

Anyway, being the pure nerd that I am, I studied the material intently. I pondered over whether Paul, a guy from a foreign country, could still greet people with a kiss on the cheek. Poor Paul is walking down sexual harassment lane.

At the end was a quiz that would go in my permanent file. I performed flawlessly. Wow, now there's something to put on my resume: Can spot quid pro quo and hostile environment sexual harassment with ease. Yeah, I'm sure that will help me get a job. Pick me, I know when to sue you!

sushi

I feel like sushi tonight, like sushi tonight. (Sung to the tune of "I feel like chicken tonight" but without the funny chicken arm movements.)

where is everyone?

I've been at work for a half hour, and I'm still alone. Where are all my co-workers? Lazy bums.

my third wedding of the summer

Cindy and Mike's Wedding
Originally uploaded
by theCallowQueen.

The wedding is over and I've been indulging myself this last week. I've lessened my gym routine, I've eaten dessert, and I was generally lazy. So here's a quick rundown on the wedding.

Friday
Left work early. I love summer hours. Scooter, my roomie, and I went to pick up one of the tuxes, which had been miss fitted, then we went to get our nails done. My roomie got her first pedicure ever. I also got a pedicure, and Scooter got fake nails. The guy didn't pay attention to her and gave her French tips with brilliant white. Scooter isn't one for French manicures, nor did she want that white against her slightly creamy wedding dress. My roomie was going to repaint them for her, but we never quite found the time.

We drive out to the backside of Clinton Lake. We were only an hour late to the rehearsal dinner. We feasted on smoked pork and had a quick, disorganized run through of the ceremony. The thunder started. The minute my roomie and I got to my car, the rain began. The storm was so heavy, I couldn't see more than a few inches in front of my car and not at all to either side of me. Out in the country, the lightning made the weird strobe light effect. Not fun when driving. We inched our way back to Lawrence, where we decided to stop at my roomie's sister's apartment until the rain died down. (This is the next eldest of the sisters who we lived with three years ago.) While we waited, she did my nails and we chatted.

The rain cleared. We left after 11 p.m. A few minutes down K-10 the rain started falling. A few minutes after that it poured, again. I was glad my roomie was driving the next day. At home, we still needed to pack and get everything ready for the next day. I went to be around 1 a.m.

Saturday
Got up at 7 a.m. to go to breakfast with the women at First Watch in Lawrence. After a yummy breakfast, we took one of the bridesmaids to her brother’s to pick up her belongings. Then we drove back to Kansas City to get our hair done. (Yes, back to Kansas City.)

With hair finished at 2 p.m., we drove back to Lawrence to the Holiday Inn to get dressed. Here’s where my nerves began. The bride and I had had a bit of an argument over the yellow top I was supposed to wear. (It was a bit too tight for my comfort—and for my dignity.) She’d already turned down on of my options. I’d found another but up until this point had been too chicken to tell her. Well my waiting paid off. By the end, she was so busy thinking about other things that she no longer cared or had the effort to argue with me. (I know this sounds bad. But I’m not a stubborn, horrible maid of honor. The other top simply didn’t fit. Ask my roomie.)

All dressed we headed out to the campsite for photos. One of the photos we took standing in the bed of a truck with Clinton Lake behind us. The sun was out, making us sweat, but it could have been worse. The rain had cooled things down to the mid80s. As I was sopping up some perspiration with a paper towel, I felt bad for the groomsmen in their tuxes.

The wedding went well. Scooter’s father performed a very generous act. When the pastor asked who gave the bride away, he said, “I do, and her mother does.” (The bride’s parents have been separated since Scooter was quite young. And they don’t much care for each other. When her older sister got married. Her father didn’t feel it was appropriate to answer, “Her mother and I do,” because they were not together. Her mother, of course, was deeply offended. If you know Scooter’s family, than you understand how this would seem to be a divide that couldn’t be crossed. So, hats off to Scooter’s dad for bridging the gap a bit.)

The pastor must have been from the groom’s side of the family. He went on with this long sermon about how important marriage is. And he read a passage Paul had written to the new churches about divorce and how to remarry is still adultery. I stifled a squirm and a grimace. Both of Scooter’s parents are remarried. Anyway, the rest was beautiful.

The campsite wasn’t as muddy as we’d feared, though the dance floor was streaked with mud. And Scooter’s chair sank into the earth when she sat down to quickly. And I gave my toast. I’d written it during our car trips from Kansas City to Lawrence. It went well. I was funny. I was touching. I was actually a little hard to hear in the back of the room (quite surprising). I was also shacking, though others told me they hadn’t noticed.

My roomie and I stayed until they started to fold up the tables. We help with a bit of cleanup then headed back to her sister’s for the night. Then I showered. It was the most glorious shower I’ve had in months.

the muzik mafia

I got an e-mail today from Warren Ackerman. Now I don't know who Warren is, so I immediatly suspected spam. It wasn't. Remember my blog entry last week on hick-hop? Well Warren is with the Muzik Mafia. Aparently he found my blog, and many others, while searching the Internet.

So, for your intertainment, here's Warren's e-mail (and, yes, those are my minor edits in red):

Hey there,

Just found your blog and have a quick question for you.

My company helps Warner Nashville do fan base development for the Muzik Mafia, and we run an online community called the Mafia Soldiers (www.mafiasoldiers.com).

It's kind of a cross between a fan community and a social network, and it provides a vehicle for fans to get a touch closer to the artists and visa versa.

When I did a quick search on Mafia Soldiers, there were quite a few blogs that I found. And I began to wonder if there might be a way to entice some of the bloggers into our community with the hope that our content would be valuable to the bloggers. Let me know your thoughts!

Best,

Warren Ackerman
212 684-9100 x 15

YellowDancer21, I know you'll want to lend your support. And Big-Bold-D, I'm sure Warren would love to hear your new term of hick-hop: c'rap.

attack of the praying mantis

Praying Mantis Outlook Over Overland Park
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

You can run.
You can hide.
But you can't escape.
No, not even on the fourth floor of your office building.

back to normal

Back to Monday.
Back to work.
Back to a life more normal.

So, hello, all, I apologies for any neglect. I hope you've all been well. I'll be more attentive now.

I'll post photos and stories about Scooter's wedding soon. My head needs a bit of a break from it all.

Countingpigs called me this morning. So good to hear from her. (Best of luck on the home search.)

two nightmares, one theme

I had a nightmare last night--my second that involved my roomie moving out.

For background my roomie and I got our first apartment together in college. After she graduated, we both moved back to our parents' homes. A few months later I moved in with another high school friend, Scooter. Six months later Scooter moved across the hall with her boyfriend and my roomie returned to me. A few months after that, Scooter and her boyfriend to Minneapolis. And they're the ones getting married this weekend. OK, now that that's out of the way, here we go.

So in the first nightmare, my roomie had to move out because my Scooter showed up wanting to move back in. We let her because all of her stuff was there, packed away in boxes that made up side tables and hidden away under beds. So my roomie goes off and finds this cute single apartment (of which I'm jealous but worry about her being able to make the rent).

Scooter begins unpacking groceries in a bedroom and putting the stuff away in the drawers and closet. I start to explain that my roomie had reorganized everything while she was gone and that we now keep food items in the kitchen. But that thought seems to fall on deaf ears. (Side note: When Scooter and I lived together, She kept most of the food items in the "pantry," which was a closet in the living room.)

Now, I wasn't sad to be living with Scooter again. It wasn't bad living with her the first time around. But I was going to really miss my roomie. After living with someone as long as we have, things are just understood, easy, and right.

For some reason, in this part of my dream, I was transplanted to a hotel/resort/casino where my parents were with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. They were about to leave and go to a movie. It was about midnight. That's when it dawned on me that Scooter was getting married in a week. There was no need for my roomie to move out! But, oh no, she'd probably already signed the lease on the new place. What would I do? Not only would I be without my roomie, but in a week I'd be without a roommate period. I couldn't afford that apartment on my own. And who would I find to live with me?

The dream degrades at this point. I make mad attempts to call my roomie, but my speed dial doesn't work, all the phone numbers disappear from my phone, and, in horror, I realize I'm trying to make the call in my underwear on the front step.

In the second dream, my roomie and I are over at a friend's house with a bunch of people. While we're eating, my roomie casually mentions that she's thinking of where she'd like to live next. I'm all confused. She looks at me with fake pity and says something to the effect of, "You didn't think I'd be your roommate forever, did you?" I asked her when she was thinking of making this change. She told me that this wasn't the time or place to discuss it. But that she'd be staying until the lease was up.

"But it's up in November," I practically whined.

"So, that's more than enough time to make plans," she replied. "Look there's no need for you to get all teary and blubbery over this.

And I was devastated. Then the rainstorm out side woke me. And I felt a terrible need to clean. Maybe she won't leave me if I'm cleaner. She loves a clean apartment, and I'm so messy.

I know all this sounds a little bit pitiful. But lets think back to that Buffy episode we just watched. Aren’t we all a little bit pitiful in our nightmares?

my second wedding of the summer

Rick and Robyn's Wedding
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

The reception for R&R's wedding was good. The marina at Lake Lotawana made for a nice, intimate setting. And the G-man loved the open bar.

The bride looked lovely.
The groom looked giddy.

The photos are on Flickr.

This Saturday is my third wedding of the summer. Look for me; I'll be one of the six in yellow taffeta.

word of the day: hick-hop

hick-hop, noun. A form of music blending aspects of country music and hip-hop, esp. music featuring rap-style lyrical recitation over a country-style background.

And example from Time: I'm rapping over pedal-steel guitar, lap steel, Dobro, fiddle and other country music instruments. In the Muzik Mafia we call it hick-hop, and we think its time has come. Country is ready to expand its boundaries.

Yeehaw, that hick-hop’s dope! (Yeah, I’m a dork.)

screaming

The muscles in my arms and legs are screaming at me today. I went to the gym this morning anyway, thinking I could ignore their protests. I tried and didn't completely fail. But I did cut my workout a bit short.

I'm tired. That is all.

it's not a tumor?

The oral surgeon just called.

My first thoughts: Why would Dr. Green call me if everything was OK? Wouldn't he just have a secretary or nurse do it? It was just a little white bump. Nothing, he said it was most likely nothing. So why am I talking to him?

Apparently, I was talking to him because he and his staff are just friendly folks. It was just a little white, cancerless bump. (I do a happy dance.)

Did I mention Dr. Green is also young and pleasant to look at? Sigh.

This entry's title, of course, came from the movie Kindergarten Cop.
Detective John Kimble: I Have a headache.
Lowell: It might be a tumor.
Detective John Kimble: It's not a tumor!

On a sad cancer note: Peter Jennings, the longtime anchor of World News Tonight died over the weekend from lung cancer. He is one of the more than 160,000 Americans who will die this year from the disease. Most lung cancers (87 percent) are smoking related. Jennings quit smoking 20 years ago (though he admitted to a relapse after the Sept. 11 attacks). So don't smoke kids, OK?

what do you bench?

The G-man likes asking this question. He likes answering it too. So, G-man, I was thinking about you when I was listening to the news anchors this morning talking about the president's state of health.

Just to give you something to work toward: Pres. Bush can bench 185. His body fat? It's just 15.79 percent. And he's 50 years old. G-man, you're only 30. Are you going to let him out beefcake you?

So no matter what happens, no matter what actions the president takes, we'll at least be able to say he's at the top of his game. And if you ever need to find him, just look in the gym; it's the new Oval Office.

And now for the beefcake:

Beefcake: Hey! You need to get in shape fast?!? Wanna look your best?!? Tired the other guys getting all the chicks?!? Are you tired of being a 90 pound weakling?!?
Cartman: Yeh, I only weight 90 pounds.
Beefcake: Then bulk up quick, with weight gain 4000!!
Cartman: Yes!
Beefcake: With over 4000 grams of saturated fat per serving, it's patented formula is designed to enter the mouth, and go to directly to the stomach where it is distributed to the bloodstream.
Beefcake: Now available in stores everywhere. Get some today, and say with me 'Beefcake!'
Cartman: Beefcake!
Beefcake: Beefcake!
Cartman: Beefcake!
Beefcake: Beefcake!
Cartman: Beefcake!!!
TV Announcer: May cause irreversible damage to the kidneys and liver.

Cartman: Eh, eh. Sweet. Check me out; I'm such a beefcake I can't even get through the door. Eh.

Geraldo: Is there anything you'd like to say to people out there?
Cartman: Follow your dreams; you can reach your goals. I'm living proof. Beefcake. Beefcake!

my first wedding of the summer

Chapel at Powell Gardens
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


Chapel at Powell Gardens at Sunset
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


The Happy Bride on the Trolley
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


Husband and Wife
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


Five Primedia Chicks
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.


It's a Small World
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

The assistant editor at my magazine got married over the weekend. Somehow my graceful, kind nature allowed me to forgive and forget that it was she who ruined the ending of Harry Potter for me. So I was able to attend her wedding with a happy heart.

Her wedding was beautiful. I’d never been out to Powell Gardens in Kingstown, Mo. During the longish drive out there I began to panic that I’d taken a wrong turn on the highway. Was I supposed to continue of 50 when it veered off to the right like that? Where was Lone Jack? Had I missed it. Where am I? Crap, where’s my cell phone? Did I forget it at home?

Luckily, my cell phone had simply slid under the passenger’s seat, I was supposed to stay on 20 when it veered to the right, and I made it to the wedding early.

Powell Gardens is beautiful. The chapel sits by a lake and the view is quite lovely at sunset. The chapel is mostly windows that make use of the amazing view. Quite a nice spot for a wedding.

It was a beautiful wedding. My co-worker had put in so much work to make this wedding happen, and her efforts showed.

I’m not a big marriage girl. Yeah, I’d like to find someone to share my life with and all that, but I’m not big on the institution of marriage. I get all annoyed with laws and rules and society saying this is who this person is to you and how your relationship must be. Anyway, that said, I felt that pang in my chest and my eyes teared up a bit as I watched my co-worker walk down the aisle. She was beautiful, shaking a bit on her father’s arm, overcome with emotion, and very happy. I want that—whatever that is.

While the vocalist was doing her thing, I was looking at the bridesmaids and groomsmen. I thought about how many bridesmaids I’d want to have. There are all these social rules. Which of my friends would I include? What if my husband-to-be had six sisters? So on to the boys. The third guy in the line caught my eye for a moment. I continued down the row, then back to that third guy. That curly hair looked familiar. Oh my, it was Johnny, my European backpacking buddy’s little brother.

I had the urge to call her and tell her that I somehow ended up at a wedding where I expected to know no one and saw her brother — in a suit no less. But, sigh, I couldn’t. She was at a family reunion in Virginia or some such eastern state.

At the reception, Johnny came and sat down at my table to talk with me. I was good to see him again. It’d been awhile. He’s since graduated from college and gotten a job doing something brilliant involving computers, of course. He was always a computer genius.

And it was nice to have a familiar face there, especially after all my co-workers called it a night just after the dancing got started.

I had a really good time. I tried to call the G-man to tell him all about it, but he was busy having a so-so time at American Bandstand and couldn’t hear me on his cell phone anymore than I could hear him.

Then 1 a.m. came and so did the last song and the time for the drive home. I wasn’t very worried about finding my way back through the highway maze until I came to the exit for 435 and it was blocked by all of those annoying orange-and-white-striped barrels. Grr. I followed two detour signs and then was left to my own devices. I found myself driving down a windy road darkened by the dense trees on either side of me.

I could call my roommate, but she doesn’t know this part of the city any better than I do. And we don’t have Internet access. I could call my dad, but I’d hate to wake him. Screw it. I’ve been lost before. It can be an adventure, even if it is 1 in the morning.

I figured that I’d probably hit a highway eventually. The road, I later noticed, was Bannister Road, which registered to me as a main road that should lead somewhere, though I couldn’t place it in the map in my head. So I kept going. Bannister Road crossed Blue Ridge Boulevard. And, though I recognized the name as another main road, it meant little to me. As I sat at the light, I realized that the intersection looked vaguely familiar to me. If I was correct, Waldo was just to my right and Johnson County, Kan., was just ahead. My thanks go out to my maternal grandmother who avoids highways at all costs. We’d driven down this road to go to Concordia, Mo., earlier this year.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then Bannister turned into 95th Street, and I felt a bit silly. I should have known that. I should have known where I was. Oh, well. Now I know. Sill it was fun being lost.

self-absorption

I’m beginning to feel the lining of my money-less pockets. First it was the bridesmaid’s skirt, then a few fancy meals, the gym and trainer, and all those freakin’ doctor’s appointments. I have three appointments next week:

• My second at the eye doctor’s. (I’m doing a happy little dance about getting contacts, but my astigmatisms make the little things bloody expensive.)
• My third at the dentist. (This inlay better look damn good for all the money insurance won’t cover on it.)
• My first at the oral surgeon. (It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer.)

I have a fear of cancer. Most people, especially most people in my family, die from some sort of cancer. The exception would be my dad, who lived through it. So I’m a wee bit paranoid. (My roomie would say I’m much more than a wee bit, but this isn’t her blog, so that doesn’t much matter.)

Another addition to my fear: Carla, the woman who gave me my first editorial internship, died from cancer that began under her tongue. And I have this white bump under my tongue.

You’d think all of this would be reason for me to get to the oral surgeon right away to have him remove it, check it out, and relieve my fears. But I’ve been avoiding this for almost a year. I’ve been afraid. It’s most likely nothing, and that’s exactly what I’ve persuaded myself. If it’s nothing, it’s not that important to deal with it right now. I can ignore it. I can pretend it doesn’t exist. I can pretend that I’m OK and not fearful.

But at least I’m doing it now. I can’t live my life as a chicken. (Chicken isn’t one of my favorite meats anyway.) So I’ve made the appointment. And I’ve done something else I was afraid of: I joined a gym.

My avoidance of gyms was another irrational fear of mine. Outside of the money, I avoided the things because I didn’t think I deserved to be there. Yes, crazy, I know. But I thought my fatness would be conspicuous among all that muscle and leanness. And I still hold on to this feeling that I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve to be anything but the fat girl, which is sick, I know. I’m working on it.

Surprisingly, the gym fee wasn’t a huge financial burden. (The trainer on the other hand…) And the only time I feel a bit conspicuous is when I cross to the far side of the gym where the free weights are. As I’m using my little 5- and 8-pound weights, I get a few glances reflected in the mirror from guys with 50- and 80-pound weights. One of these days I will get over caring what complete strangers think of me. It’s really quite self-absorbed of me. Although, what is this blog, if not a platform for me to get attention from you, my readers?

damnit, i know the ending!

So apparently, 96.5 The Buzz gave out the ending of Harry Potter on the air. This kid was so upset that he's staging a protest. A co-worker of mine sent me a link to the Buzz's Web site where they provide a picture of the kid with a lightning bolt on his forehead and a link to his protest site. She sent it to me because it was funny. But underneath it GAVE AWAY THE FREAKIN' ENDING. I know who dies. I know who killed him. And I haven't even opened the book yet. And let me tell you, this is important, this is big, this really will change the way I read the book. They mystery is gone. And my co-worker feels really bad about it. (Don't feel bad; I'll live, somehow, through this tragedy.)

On an up note: I sidestepped my managing editor about paying for my dues to this editing association I'm involved with and went straight to my editorial director. He gave the OK to reimburse me for the whole thing. Yay! It was the same co-worker's idea to talk to my editorial director about it. So I guess I'm still on speaking terms with her. ;)

Damnit, I still know. I haven't forgotten.

I was hoping that, by thinking and writing about something else, that I could purge my mind of the knowledge. Foolish, yes, but still worth a try.

wine and cheese

I just got back from a wine and cheese party downstairs. The wine helped loosen a few nerves that got tightened throughout the day.

I've been busy today. Lots to get done before our assistant editor takes vacation for her wedding and honeymoon.

Oh, and I finished the baby blanket over my lunch break, just in time for the baby shower after work today. I'm a bit nervous about going back to that place.

But today has also been full of compliments. Compliments on my blanket. Compliments on my embroidered jeans from Singapore. I love it when strangers give compliments. Must remember to do that myself more often.

Sorry for the randomness. With two glasses of wine in me, my main concern is simply spelling all these words correctly.

Cheers!

numb

The lower right side of my jaw was numb yesterday after a trip to the dentist. At dinner, I realized I was biting my lip as well as my food.

“I think I bit my lip. Does it look OK?” I asked my roomie.
“Um, it’s bleeding,” she replied.

And that was just the beginning. I tried chewing with my mouth open, lips pushed out as far as I could. Still problems, and I felt like a cow chewing her cud.

I ended up just holding my bottom lip down while I ate. But this method wouldn’t work for my drink. My roomie laughed every time I took a sip and some of it splurted back out.

My bottom lip's swollen today. And I have a bruise, too. If your mouth is ever numb and itches, don't try to itch it. It's impossible to know how forceful you're being.

And since this is only a temporary filling, I’ll be in the same fix two weeks from now when I go back to the dentist to get the real thing.

gee, i hate communicating

I just sent the hardest e-mail of my life today. To the person I sent it to: I'm sorry.

The G-man says that some girls enjoy sending such letters. I am disgusted by such girls. But, sometimes, I'm disgusted by my own actions. I fear that I sometimes lead guys on because I don't tell them straight out that it's not going to happen. I fear they'll ask me why. Sometimes it's because I'm not interested, and that's hard to say. Sometimes it's because I'm afraid, overwhelmed, and embarrassed, and that's hard to admit, especially to myself.

i am livid

I called up the associate editor at my old job to ask her about tear sheets. (For those not in the biz, tear sheets are simply pages from the magazine. You commonly get tear sheets of articles you wrote, designed art for, were a source for, etc.

Before I left, I had written enough material for one department through the September issue. So, I should have gotten tear sheets for June and July. I hadn’t. The associated editor no longer handles tear sheets. That job was handed off to Replacement. And no wonder she didn’t think to send me tear sheets. MY BYLINE HAD BEEN LEFT OFF OF THE DEPARTMENT IN BOTH MONTHS. In June there was no byline at all. In July there sat Replacement’s byline on my work. (The material in June was 100 percent mine. The material in July was mostly mine, with an addition by a former intern and Replacement.)

I was hurt. I felt dismissed. Yes, I know, you all wonder why I should even care. But I do. I feel like the byline was ignored to try to wipe me from the magazine’s memory. But in doing so, the editor also cheated a former intern who worked with me on those pieces and who should have also shared the byline. And that intern needs those tear sheets for his portfolio much more than I do.

And surprisingly, I’m disappointed in my former boss. I expected more respect from her, at least publicly, than this. And I guess I’m a little hurt that my friends on the staff didn’t notice or make an effort to attribute the work correctly.

Grrr.

the new, old girl

So, over the past few weeks I’ve been listening to JB, the senior managing editor of three publications, talking on the phone about potential assistant editors for his magazines. (The back wall of my cubicle meets the back wall of his.) Yesterday, I heard they’d made a decision. He commented on the salary she wanted and the salary they offered. (My mouth dropped. It’s much, much more than I made as an assistant editor.)

Today, I was talking with the publications’ managing editor. She said I knew the new hire. She was a long-time custom communications intern from my old work. She was the one who gave me the dragonflies that I have on my cubicle wall. I’m happy. She’s a nice girl. She does good work. And a familiar face will be welcome.

My big question: Why did she leave the PR place she’d taken a job with? I’m so nosey.

And I’m trying to resist the urge to call two of my former co-workers and tell them how much she’ll be making. They deserve more than what they get. I feel bad. As much as I loved my old job and the people I worked with, the company terribly underpays its workers, at least at the lower levels. I’m amazed at how little they pay.

And listening to JB talking about salaries has me wondering about how the pay scales differ depending on the magazine and the position. For another position, JB was quoting a salary level that I thought was OK, but not impressive. But this assistant editor salary is impressive. If I were making this salary as an assistant editor at my last job, I’d probably have tried to work things out with my boss. Amazing how a little bit more money can encourage delusions and keep one from seeing the light.

the sudoku challenge

My newest addiction: SuDoku. It's like a crossword puzzle with the numbers one through nine. Each row, each column, and each three-by-three box uses each number only once.

I spent the last half of my afternoon trying to conquer the first SuDoku published in USA Today. I was close, but I couldn't figure it out. I'm currently sticking to the easy puzzles.

I use my time so wisely.

tired

Scratched Eye
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I woke up late this morning. Didn't feel really great. My eyes feel dry, scratchy, and tired.

I've felt tired lately, emotionally tired. There's something I'm looking for, something I want that I'm not finding. And I'm tired, tired of searching, tired of not getting, tired of feeling petty and selfish for wanting more than all that I've already been blessed with.

the sick life

Back to work today. I forgot my decongestant at home. I guess my co-workers will just have to deal with my musical nose today. I haven't really talked with anyone in a while so here's a rough update since my last post.

WEDNESDAY: Made brownies.

THURSDAY: Took brownies to work for co-worker’s birthday.

FRIDAY: We got doughnuts and bagels that morning at work. It was also Free Pop Friday. And we got to leave at 1 pm. What a treat. I went with a former co-worker and her former roommate to see the Get Up Kids perform their next-to-last show at the Granada in Lawrence. It was good. My feet hurt from all the standing. And it was fun to see my cousin up on stage.

SATURDAY: Two of Big-Bold-D’s friends tried to take us to Dunn’s Cider Mill in Belton for lunch. It was closed. Sigh. We ended up eating at a good BBQ place, though. That evening I went with my roomie and her littlest sis to Zona Rosa, an outdoor shopping area off of Barry Rd. I’d never been out there before. We ended up eating at an Italian place called Bravo, which, I found out, is run by the same people who own Brio on the Plaza. My roomie and I forgot our leftovers. Sigh. But the ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery made up for it. Then we went to see Bewitched, which ended up being more entertaining than I expected.

SUNDAY: That former co-worker’s former roommate had her birthday party that evening. Vodka slushies are yummy but dangerous. I bruised my ego there and am still recovering. Sitting on her couch, I felt my throat getting sore.

MONDAY: My dad’s birthday. I’m sick. My throat’s swollen. I spend the day with my parents. I go home early. I go to bed early. I listen to the boom of fireworks, unable to sleep.

TUESDAY: I’m sick. Lots of TV watching. A little reading.

WEDNESDAY: It’s Tuesday, repeated.

THURSDAY: Woke up to news of the London bombings. Felt sick. Back at work. Congested.

wtf

WTF? WTF
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I walked in and thought, What the f*ck? White trash fighting.

The girl getting flipped is part of a female roller derby. The girl in the low-rise jeans is her sister. Yes, there was girl-girl fighting. No, I'm not posting those photos.

These girls are friends of a friend of a friend, and that's too close for me. I'd rather have at least six degrees of separation with these two.

hehehe

Attack of the Chocolate Bugs
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I love my roommate. She makes me laugh. And I hope she doesn't kill me for posting this photo.

one of the matts

An old high school friend just sent me an e-mail. A hi-how-have-you-been after more than two years. There are these phases in my life when certain guys hold similarities with each other. This guy was in the Matt Phase. (Who can guess the similarity he shared with the other guys in the phase? Hmm. Anyone?) And to distinguish him from the other guys in his grouping, he was High School Matt. (Ah, I see the light of recognition dawning on some of your faces.)

Nothing deep to reveal here. Just an unexpected link to the past for me today. A link that had me writing a general sum of the last two years of my life. How does one sum up such an expanse of time? What level of detail does one include? It's must be more specific than an obituary but more general than a diary entry. And this is assuming that I remember all of the key points in my life. I don't. Maybe I should have just provided a link to this blog.

Anyway, I provided a probably overly long response, to which he supplied an equally long missive. Brevity was never a strong suit for either of us. (I can be succinct in my editing and writing, but it’s a challenge made harder the closer the material is to home. All that means is I can be brief about the weather forecast or the latest news bite, but ask me about my newest shoe purchase, and I’ll provide a novel.) In this case, I’m glad he was equally lacking in brevity.

welcome summer

Spring St.
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

Today's the second day of summer. Sigh. Here comes the heat. Good-bye to the few nice spring days that we had.

Here are a few Googlisms on spring. My thanks to lizalou42 for the link (googlisms.com).

spring is sprung
spring is here
spring is late
spring is back
spring is springing earlier
spring is coming
spring is busting out
spring is sure to come
(People are so demanding of Spring)
spring is in the air (I can fly!)
spring is in the air whether he's pausing for an outdoor lunch or enjoying a bounce (I'm male? I can bounce? Am I Tigger?)
spring is like summer (Spring is often called Summer)
spring is colorful and sexy at the house of versace (Now this is more like it)
spring is bright for klein (I'd like to think I bright in general. I always did well in school)
spring is the period express from god (Sounds important. Am I happy about being the period express from god?)
spring is poem
spring is 100% minority owned source for wire forms (Who knew I was 100% minority owned? And what do wire forms want with me?)
spring is worth a mint (That's a gold mint, right?)
spring is eternal (Now, this is more like it.)
spring is the morning bird song (Comments like these are what puts Spring in the air.)
spring is friggin' awesome (Duh! Everyone knows this!)
spring is unwinding all around us (OK, I am a bit crazy at times.)
spring is (Yep, I think that wraps this up nicely.)

Oh, about the photo: I took this shot on the NYC subway on the last day of our trip.