Wednesday, September 29, 2004

The World at Your Fingertips

So I "don't mean to be a traitor to my generation" (Cher Horowitz - Clueless), but sometimes I don't know how I feel about the Internet. Sure, it can be a great resourse, but only if you know how to use it. I can shop on-line very wel...but I'm a woman. I can shop anywhere and do it well! I can also email and check weather with extreme precision! It's those run-of-the-mill, every-day, alternative-ways-to-find-out bits of information and communication that are so easy. What I want to know is how to find the good stuff...

Today I wanted to look up Tehillah Toronto. Not an easy task. I forgot the second "h" on Tehillah. I ended up with all kinds of bizzare websites, commentaries and Israeli chat rooms all because of a little "h". I mean, I had 7 out 8 right! 85% isn't bad! But it wasn't the 85% that the Internet cared was the 15% I forgot.

I guess this is what I really want to know: how come Tehilla won't lead me to Tehillah, but hard, long, girl, boy and sextuplepts will all lead me to Playboy!?!? This is not an experiment I would like to conduct, but if there are 6 degrees of separation to Kevin Bacon, I'll give you 5 degrees of the Internet to a porn site. And yet my 85% just doesn't cut the mustard.

I obviously have occassional free time when I puruse the Internet (is that supposed to capitalized? If so, why??), but I find myself stuck on email, weather, and BounceOut. Perhaps if it was more user friendly to the not-so-sexually driven, or maybe if it was more compassionate towards the gramatically challenged I could devote a little more time, but not now. Not when I have a sister in Arizona who can look up everything for me.

On that note, I'll sign off from the Internet for today (I will, of course, check my email one more time). I look forward to Christmas shopping again this year. I eagerly anticipate tomorrow's weather. I will forever dread trying to find information on anything that I can't spell (God bless

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Writing Sample...

I was just reading an article on about how important writing skills are to various employers. Below is a clip from that article. Wow.

“Writing skills tend to be critical more on the salaried side of things, but even for our hourly jobs, to be able to communicate shift to shift,” said Thomas Siegele, a human resources manager for paint and glass maker PPG Industries Inc., based in Pittsburgh.

Brain Fart

Isn't it ironic, don't you think? A little too ironic, I really do think. Actually, no I don't think it's ironic - I think it's a tragedy! Why the drama? Why the emotion? Because I could be missing out on BIG BUCKS right now (or at least $50) because I can't think of anything to write!

I sit down to type up a blog and the wheels begin to spin...I could write about pretty much anything (I should be able to by now - I can talk about pretty much anything too). But give me a topic, make me wrangle my mind into a little corner of concentration, and...I'm sorry, what was I saying?

I don't know the exact numbers, but they say men use about one fifth of the amount of words that women use in a day. I've always been an overachiever. The words never seem to stop. I suffer from a rarely diagnosed but extremely sensitive condition: diarreah of the mouth. If you say the right word, give me a good topic, I may not shut up for days (verbal laxatives - handle with care). In fact, my roommates confirm that I even talk in my sleep. I could tell you about my job, my family, my car, my house, my feet, my shoes, my teeth, my earrings, my soy milk, my friends, my enemies, my God and pretty much anything else in existence. So why is this so hard?

Even now, I have no answers. As I try to come up with smart-aleck, quick remarks, my brain freezes. Perhaps I need chocolate (hey, I'm a woman - chocolate cures everything). Maybe I need a brain massage. Or it could just be that I'm not destined to be monetarily compensated for my endless amounts of sarcasm and spunk. I think I will retreat to my cubicle now, take some mental Bean-O and see if I can pass this brain fart today...

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Chicken Noodle??

I'm a cat person and I don't try to hide that. I'm not a huge fan of the canine companion, but apparently they appeal to some people. However, in spite of their barking, slobbering, whining chewing and every other loud and wet behavior they do have one redeeming quality: their breeds. Specifically: the poodle.

Why the poodle? It has nothing to do with their character. It has to do with their names. I'm not talking about their owner-given names like "Princess", "Snooky" and "Pumpkin". No, I'm referring to the name given to the new breed created everytime you mix a poodle with any other type of dog (and how is it that you can breed a poodle with so many other types of dog??). Now THIS is entertainment.

The Cockapoo. The Labradoodle. Really, who comes up with these names?? It sounds like someone just asked their 3-year old, dressed in pink, ballerina wannabe daughter to name the dog! So I got to thinking...what else could you breed with a poodle, and what would you call it?

Snickerdoodle (A Snickers bar and a poodle)
Pooh-poo (Winnie-the-Pooh and a poodle)
Caboodle (A taxi and a poodle)

Please, feel free to elaborate...I just wanted to get the ball rolling with this one!

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

Meet me at DQ

The holiday weekend is officially over, and I am wondering if there is really a point to it all. There's the traffic, the cookout, the traffic, the sales, and more traffic. Perhaps it is the lack of regular traditions, the lack of extended family, or just the lack of good television that keeps it rather dull, and truly nothing more than a three day weekend. As I look back over the past three days, and the other holiday weekends like it, I find only one common denominator: ice cream.

Holidays have never been the huge family affair at my house that they seem to be with others...Especially the summer holidays. We have no large family traditions for Memorial Day, July 4th or Labor Day. There are no guests who visit every year, there are no places to which we go. This holiday was another example. We lounge around the house, trying desperately to amuse ourselves while avoiding the tourist traffic that annoys and frustrates us. Occasionally a few of us may brave the roads for a knick or knack, but not always. However, we will brave hell or high water, wind and rain, locusts and frogs to get our ice cream.

I'm not sure why its a tradition, and I don't know how it started, but no three-day holiday at home would be complete without a trip to the DQ and a night at House of Flavors. It's not enough to get ice cream one night, nor is it okay to have the same kind two nights in a row. The only acceptable treat is to experience everything and to experience it at all costs.

Ice cream is our only tradition. We don't always order the same thing, we don't go at the same time of the day, but we go. We cram too many adults into one vehicle. We endure drivers who don't know where they're going, what the speed limit is, or the meaning of that vacant lane in the middle of the road in which no one is driving. And for what? The ice cream. Even if they don't have exactly what we want or make it the way we like it; even if we're still so full from the ribs that we can hardly keep our pants done up; even if we are so annoyed with each other that we can hardly stand to look at each other anymore. Nothing will keep us from our ice cream.

And so, as I prepare to go back to work I can reflect on the medium vanilla ice cream cone and the strawberry shortcake that I enjoyed this year. I look ahead to next summer and wonder what the Blizzard of the Month will be...will the House of Flavors have created a NEW flavor for 2005? The guests and the weather may change from year to year, but I can rest assured that I will enjoy my ice cream.