Seems like everyone and their cousin creates an end-of-year "Best Of 2008" list, so why should I be an exception? I took a few moments in the midst of my fevered and congested flu haze to create a list of my BESTS for 2008. This is not entirely comprehensive because, well, frankly, I only spent about 30 minutes or so pondering the topic. What you see here are just my top-of-mind thoughts. What were your favorite things in 2008? I'd love to hear them.
Flannel Sheets & King Size Beds
Obama's victory and his inspiring acceptance speech
Eckart Tolle's A New Earth
XM & Sirrius radio -- now they are one and the same. Hooray!
Beck and his Modern Guilt
Love & Marriage (go together like a horse and carriage)
Mad Men
The Rick Roll
Riveria Maya's moonlit beaches and swim up bars
David Osborne
Stephanie Meyer's Twilight books
Slumdog Millionnaire
The 2008 Summer Olympics
Rock Band & Guitar Hero World Tour
MacBook Pro
Fireplaces
Facebook
Oprah's Soul Series
Solera and Orange Osborne cocktails
IPhone
Coldplay live at the Xcel Center
Fuzzy UGG slippers
Dexter
Old friends who continue to be there and wonderful new friends who just enter your life
Freedom of speech and civil liberty
Ghetto sandwiches -- you have to try these babies. YUM!
Stainless Steel water bottles (i.e. Sigg)
David Pink and his Whole New Mind
Secret Diary of a Call Girl -- gotta love the BBC
Piracy where nobody gets hurt
Sophie & Bob and their furry little faces
Nissan Rogue
Happiness & Contentment
Here's to a grand 2008 and a look ahead to the promise of 2009. May we all find our BESTS in the year ahead!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
The sniffling sneezing coughing aching stuffy head fever so you can blog medicine
I have a cold. I have the flu. Well, I'm not really sure how to distinguish between the two, so I guess I have one of them and neither one is telling me. What is the difference? My mom mentioned that she thinks I have the flu because I have a fever. Do you not get a fever with a cold? If someone could enlighten me, that would be cool. Either way, I'm kinda miserable.
OK, so I just now realized that when one describes a cold, they say "I have a cold" and when one talks about flu, they say "I have the flu." Why does cold get an "a" and flu get "the?" Is it because colds are so darn common and therefore do not get the honor of a singular and specific descriptor? Does it have something to do with the fact that each year there seems to be a new and unique strain of the flu virus and, if you so choose, you can get a vaccine for it? You can get any old cold, but the flu, well, the flu is SUPER SPECIAL! Maybe the word choice is related to the fact you can DIE from the flu, but not so much with a cold. Can you die from a cold? Please blog fans, enlighten me.
But I digress . . .
Hope everyone had a happy and healthy holiday! I guess I had the former, but not the latter. I should be at work today, but decided to keep my virus or germs or bacteria or sniffly wee-beasties locked with me inside my domicile. It's like a germ party over here and you are NOT invited. We don't have enough tissue and cough drops for everyone. Sorry.
On a somewhat lighter note . . . over the course of my holiday break, I have had the opportunity to see several films: Seven Pounds, Revolutionary Road, Slumdog Millionnaire, Let the Right One In, Blindness, Religulous to name a sampling. LOTS of movies, but so many more to see. Of the flicks mentioned, I would have to give all of them a pretty strong double thumbs up. Seven Pounds would probably garner the least enthusiasm, but still offers a good storyline which keeps you guessing for at least the first 50 minutes or so. Slumdog would be my top pick of the bunch. Danny Boyle as director (Trainspotting, 28 Days Later) rarely disappoints and this is no exception. Slumdog exposes the ghettos of Mumbai in a truly visceral way. I saw it, smelled it, the squalid conditions and poverty seeped into my skin and out of my pores. Make sure you sit through until the very end. You don't want to miss the Bollywood style credit roll.
Revolutionary Road reminds me of the television show Mad Men in a number of ways -- pacing is a little slow befitting 1950's American dystopia. Company man comes back from the war to pursue the American dream. Everyone (well, almost) falls in line with the cookie cutter version of the perfect society, perfect home, perfect family, perfect life. The problem is there is no such thing as perfect and happiness doesn't come in the form of a Cape Cod, 3 bedroom, 2 bath, white picket fence property. Kate Winslett is excellent as the young wife and homemaker disillusioned with her 'cozy' life in the 'burbs. Leo DiCaprio brings in a solid performance as her equally burdened husband. If you are a fan of director Sam Mendes (American Beauty, Road to Perdition), you'll see his tell tale mark of poignancy, sadness and longing all over this bad boy. It is actually quite a bit like American Beauty, just set about 40 years earlier.
Let The Right One In will not be a movie for everyone. I would describe it as a foreign (Sweden) art house film about vampires. We are talking sub-titles, depressing scenery, bloody deaths, etc. Given my penchant for both foreign films and vampire tales, it had me at the opening credits.
Well, this concludes my flu (or cold) fueled movie review rant. Stay warm everyone!
OK, so I just now realized that when one describes a cold, they say "I have a cold" and when one talks about flu, they say "I have the flu." Why does cold get an "a" and flu get "the?" Is it because colds are so darn common and therefore do not get the honor of a singular and specific descriptor? Does it have something to do with the fact that each year there seems to be a new and unique strain of the flu virus and, if you so choose, you can get a vaccine for it? You can get any old cold, but the flu, well, the flu is SUPER SPECIAL! Maybe the word choice is related to the fact you can DIE from the flu, but not so much with a cold. Can you die from a cold? Please blog fans, enlighten me.
But I digress . . .
Hope everyone had a happy and healthy holiday! I guess I had the former, but not the latter. I should be at work today, but decided to keep my virus or germs or bacteria or sniffly wee-beasties locked with me inside my domicile. It's like a germ party over here and you are NOT invited. We don't have enough tissue and cough drops for everyone. Sorry.
On a somewhat lighter note . . . over the course of my holiday break, I have had the opportunity to see several films: Seven Pounds, Revolutionary Road, Slumdog Millionnaire, Let the Right One In, Blindness, Religulous to name a sampling. LOTS of movies, but so many more to see. Of the flicks mentioned, I would have to give all of them a pretty strong double thumbs up. Seven Pounds would probably garner the least enthusiasm, but still offers a good storyline which keeps you guessing for at least the first 50 minutes or so. Slumdog would be my top pick of the bunch. Danny Boyle as director (Trainspotting, 28 Days Later) rarely disappoints and this is no exception. Slumdog exposes the ghettos of Mumbai in a truly visceral way. I saw it, smelled it, the squalid conditions and poverty seeped into my skin and out of my pores. Make sure you sit through until the very end. You don't want to miss the Bollywood style credit roll.
Revolutionary Road reminds me of the television show Mad Men in a number of ways -- pacing is a little slow befitting 1950's American dystopia. Company man comes back from the war to pursue the American dream. Everyone (well, almost) falls in line with the cookie cutter version of the perfect society, perfect home, perfect family, perfect life. The problem is there is no such thing as perfect and happiness doesn't come in the form of a Cape Cod, 3 bedroom, 2 bath, white picket fence property. Kate Winslett is excellent as the young wife and homemaker disillusioned with her 'cozy' life in the 'burbs. Leo DiCaprio brings in a solid performance as her equally burdened husband. If you are a fan of director Sam Mendes (American Beauty, Road to Perdition), you'll see his tell tale mark of poignancy, sadness and longing all over this bad boy. It is actually quite a bit like American Beauty, just set about 40 years earlier.
Let The Right One In will not be a movie for everyone. I would describe it as a foreign (Sweden) art house film about vampires. We are talking sub-titles, depressing scenery, bloody deaths, etc. Given my penchant for both foreign films and vampire tales, it had me at the opening credits.
Well, this concludes my flu (or cold) fueled movie review rant. Stay warm everyone!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Room & Roses
After an eternity of patient waiting, I FINALLY, have pictures to post of my new bedroom. From henceforth I will call it the sanctuary, because it has been transformed into a peaceful cocoon of tranquility and restful slumber (no thanks to you Slumberland). Mr. Oz and I went out and got ourselves one of those little trickling water fountains with the stones in them and everything . . . yep, just like the ones at the spa.
So, just as a reminder. Here is the before picture:
And here, my friends, are some after pictures:
Oh, and just because they are lovely and smell glorious, here are some pictures of the roses Mr. Oz sent me for my birthday. He's so sweet . . .
So, just as a reminder. Here is the before picture:
And here, my friends, are some after pictures:
Oh, and just because they are lovely and smell glorious, here are some pictures of the roses Mr. Oz sent me for my birthday. He's so sweet . . .
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Slumberland: The Final Saga
Slumberland came through ladies and gents. The new bedroom furniture has FINALLY arrived. It looks wonderful and I cannot wait to crawl into my glorious bed tonight. I promise to include some photos in my next posting so I can share the "after" picture with my loyal readers.
Whoo Hooo! No more cramped spare bedroom. No more piles and stacks and heaping loads of clothes just waiting for a new dresser to live in. No more cursing and gnashing of teeth . . . well, at least not for now anyway. Casa del Osborne is now back in business. Overnight guests are welcome once again, but you will be relegated to the cramped spare bedroom when you arrive. Sorry. It's perfectly fine for a couple of nights, but quarters get a little tight after a couple of weeks.
You are damn lucky Slumberland. I was about to put a mob hit on you Tony Soprano style. Your knee caps have lived to see another pain-free day.
More to come . . . Hope everyone is having a terrific and joyous holiday season! Don't worry. I won't come after your knee caps. I do have SOME Christmas spirit after all. I'll save the ass kicking until after the New Year.
Whoo Hooo! No more cramped spare bedroom. No more piles and stacks and heaping loads of clothes just waiting for a new dresser to live in. No more cursing and gnashing of teeth . . . well, at least not for now anyway. Casa del Osborne is now back in business. Overnight guests are welcome once again, but you will be relegated to the cramped spare bedroom when you arrive. Sorry. It's perfectly fine for a couple of nights, but quarters get a little tight after a couple of weeks.
You are damn lucky Slumberland. I was about to put a mob hit on you Tony Soprano style. Your knee caps have lived to see another pain-free day.
More to come . . . Hope everyone is having a terrific and joyous holiday season! Don't worry. I won't come after your knee caps. I do have SOME Christmas spirit after all. I'll save the ass kicking until after the New Year.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Scent of Meat Fills My Nostrils
As a perfect transition from my last Fogo de Chao post expounding on the joy of roasted meats, here is something else to chew on. In a recent Boston Globe story, Burger King announced its entrance in the "fine" fragrance category. I purposefully place "fine" in quotations here as Burger King does not necessarily play on the same brand level as oh . . . say Chanel. And, what would you expect in a cologne from the purveyor of the Whopper? Well . . . how about the subtle scent of flame-broiled beef? Yep, that's right. The Flame is a meat infused spray for men.
Ahh, whaaa?!! BTW, does the Burger King King creep you out as much as he creeps me out?
Apparently, the smart folks at BK feel this smell will lure in the ladies like some sort of addictive pheromone. Now I like a good burger. Don't get me wrong. But, the thought of a meat cologne makes my stomach turn.
The story reminds me of something out of the Onion -- a spoof, a lark. I think this one might be real, however. Watch out everyone. The Flame might just be 2009's hot ticket stocking stuffer.
Good luck with this one BK. Might I suggest sticking with the fried foods and do what you do best? Leave the production of fragrance to the folks who know a thing or two about it . . . Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears, Sarah Jessica Parker and J-Lo. Thankyouverymuch.
Ahh, whaaa?!! BTW, does the Burger King King creep you out as much as he creeps me out?
Apparently, the smart folks at BK feel this smell will lure in the ladies like some sort of addictive pheromone. Now I like a good burger. Don't get me wrong. But, the thought of a meat cologne makes my stomach turn.
The story reminds me of something out of the Onion -- a spoof, a lark. I think this one might be real, however. Watch out everyone. The Flame might just be 2009's hot ticket stocking stuffer.
Good luck with this one BK. Might I suggest sticking with the fried foods and do what you do best? Leave the production of fragrance to the folks who know a thing or two about it . . . Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears, Sarah Jessica Parker and J-Lo. Thankyouverymuch.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Fogo For Four
Today was the official start of an unusual 8 day festival known, in some circles, as the week of my birth commemoration. The spectacle of joyous triumphant glory was kicked off in a rousing fashion with a weekend visit from Abysmal Scribble and Mr. Scribble. Calloo Callay!! Before I dive into a rundown of the festival events thus far, let's take a momentary station identification break and update on a couple late breaking news stories, shalls we??
Firstly, many of you have been kind enough to reach out during my recent Slumberland "oh, how I loathe thee" dramatic re-enactment. This was a WAY off, off-Broadway production and has been garnering rave reviews among the critics and general public alike. Tickets are sold out through February, so if you haven't seen the show yet, you are SOL. Sorry. I've added a third act to the play and have changed the format from a docu-dramady to a musical. Andrew Lloyd Webber is composing as I type. My viewing audience will be pleased to find Act 3 moving from caustic rage to redemption for Slumberland as today I received the phone call I had been waiting for. Furniture delivery is set for sometime on Thursday!! No doubt the corporate overlords have been tracking my blog and were quaking in their boots. I am assured that my loyal readers were also incensed to the point of berating said corporate overlords with scads of emails, phone calls, faxes, picketing and rioting on the streets, etc. Slumberland, bending to the will of the people, has seen the error of its ways and caved to our demands. Viva la Revolution! Well played everyone. Well played.
Secondly, kitty cat Spencer Bob, took a bad health turn this week and landed himself in the hospital with a terrible cold. Poor little guy was neither eating nor drinking for days. Dehydrated and sad, he spent a few days under the care of a veternarian and seems to have bounced back somewhat. He's back home safe and sound. Thank you City Cat Clinic. You are AWESOME!
Finally, onto the festival of birth commemoration . . . Day 1 was marked with rejuvination at the spa. Abysmal and I kicked it with a relaxing facial followed by a massage. Can you say, niiiiicccce? Sure. I knew you could. Mind you, I have NEVER before had a facial and I was a tad nervous? What if the potions and elixers they used caused my face to break out in hives or something? Well, it didn't, but I'm not sure my skin knew what hit it. It is still in shock. I also tried a new thing on the massage -- the hot stones. Have you tried this? If not, you REALLY should. Wonderful experience. I believe, at one point, I fell asleep and started snoring right there on the massage table. Pure bliss.
After an afternoon of shopping, me and Mr. Oz and Abysmal and Mr. Scribble headed downtown for the traditional roast meats and cheeses gala concluding day 1 of the festival. It was meat-fest at Fogo de Chao y'all. Definitely not for the faint of heart, you roll up in this joint and throw down your $46 for an all-you-can-eat onslaught of roasted meats. Sure, they have a fine salad bar and some sides served family style. This is all well and good, but people line up around the block for the protein at Fogo. The gaucho-wearing cowboy waiters fly around the vast dining room carrying long spears of garlic beef, bacon wrapped filet, sausages and lamb chops. In their other hand they wield sharp knives which they use to slice these glorious meats onto the plates of the hungry patrons. Heaping piles of glistening pork, chicken and beef lay out as far as the eye can see.
Burp.
I feel kinda sick just replaying it here for you.
Tomorrow, Day 2 of the festival will begin with a trip to the gym and a fasting session. One must pay penance for the gorging on Day 1, but oh what fun we had.
Firstly, many of you have been kind enough to reach out during my recent Slumberland "oh, how I loathe thee" dramatic re-enactment. This was a WAY off, off-Broadway production and has been garnering rave reviews among the critics and general public alike. Tickets are sold out through February, so if you haven't seen the show yet, you are SOL. Sorry. I've added a third act to the play and have changed the format from a docu-dramady to a musical. Andrew Lloyd Webber is composing as I type. My viewing audience will be pleased to find Act 3 moving from caustic rage to redemption for Slumberland as today I received the phone call I had been waiting for. Furniture delivery is set for sometime on Thursday!! No doubt the corporate overlords have been tracking my blog and were quaking in their boots. I am assured that my loyal readers were also incensed to the point of berating said corporate overlords with scads of emails, phone calls, faxes, picketing and rioting on the streets, etc. Slumberland, bending to the will of the people, has seen the error of its ways and caved to our demands. Viva la Revolution! Well played everyone. Well played.
Secondly, kitty cat Spencer Bob, took a bad health turn this week and landed himself in the hospital with a terrible cold. Poor little guy was neither eating nor drinking for days. Dehydrated and sad, he spent a few days under the care of a veternarian and seems to have bounced back somewhat. He's back home safe and sound. Thank you City Cat Clinic. You are AWESOME!
Finally, onto the festival of birth commemoration . . . Day 1 was marked with rejuvination at the spa. Abysmal and I kicked it with a relaxing facial followed by a massage. Can you say, niiiiicccce? Sure. I knew you could. Mind you, I have NEVER before had a facial and I was a tad nervous? What if the potions and elixers they used caused my face to break out in hives or something? Well, it didn't, but I'm not sure my skin knew what hit it. It is still in shock. I also tried a new thing on the massage -- the hot stones. Have you tried this? If not, you REALLY should. Wonderful experience. I believe, at one point, I fell asleep and started snoring right there on the massage table. Pure bliss.
After an afternoon of shopping, me and Mr. Oz and Abysmal and Mr. Scribble headed downtown for the traditional roast meats and cheeses gala concluding day 1 of the festival. It was meat-fest at Fogo de Chao y'all. Definitely not for the faint of heart, you roll up in this joint and throw down your $46 for an all-you-can-eat onslaught of roasted meats. Sure, they have a fine salad bar and some sides served family style. This is all well and good, but people line up around the block for the protein at Fogo. The gaucho-wearing cowboy waiters fly around the vast dining room carrying long spears of garlic beef, bacon wrapped filet, sausages and lamb chops. In their other hand they wield sharp knives which they use to slice these glorious meats onto the plates of the hungry patrons. Heaping piles of glistening pork, chicken and beef lay out as far as the eye can see.
Burp.
I feel kinda sick just replaying it here for you.
Tomorrow, Day 2 of the festival will begin with a trip to the gym and a fasting session. One must pay penance for the gorging on Day 1, but oh what fun we had.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
I Want A Mulligan
Have you ever had one of those days when, oh say, about an hour into it you realize you want a 'do over?' In golf terms, a mulligan? You wish you had those Hiro Nakimaura powers (blatant Heroes reference) where time is stopped, reversed and everything starts all over again? I had one of those days today. First, the drive into work was SSSSSLLLLOOOOOOWW. We are talking snails' pace. My typical 22.5 minute commute turned into nearly an hour trudging along the sloppy, snowy highways. It is in these times, in these moments, when one really relies on the radio. Right? Well, mine just froze up. I punched buttons. I moved dials. Nuthin. The LED display was stuck. Anyone want to tell me where the re-boot button is on my car radio? I couldn't find it. I had absolutely no tunes on my long drive.
Hang on, I'm just getting warmed up.
As my trip to work neared an end, I got a funny feeling. A sort of, "what did I forget to do this morning" kinda feeling. Hmmmm. What was it? Then it hit me. I completely failed to apply deodorant. Yep. I was sans speedstick. Crap. Double crap. I took quick action, scampered into the company store (yes, we have one where I work) and snatched up a mini-size of Secret solid. Whew. Crisis averted. Thank you company store.
In my haste to get my hands on the precious anti-perspirant I forgot my laptop in my car. Of course, it wasn't until I finished the approximately 1.2 mile walk to my desk that I noticed this. The next 15 minutes went something like this: Drop purse on desk. Say good morning to my teammates, covertly apply deodorant, walk my arse back downstairs, out the door, into the vast parking lot, retrieve laptop, get back into work. I think I finally hit productivity at about 9:45am. Triple crap.
Fast forward an hour or so later. Mr. Oz calls me to ask "do we have insurance on our wedding rings?" PAUSE. PAUSE. PAUSE.
Me: "Uhm, yyyyeessssss, why?"
Mr. Oz: "I lost my ring."
Me: "huh? how?"
Mr. Oz: "scraping snow off my car."
OK, so this is not good. Not at all. Mr. Oz felt terrible. I was upset and then sad. He looked for it everywhere, but to no avail. The ring, it seems, has left the building. Luckily, we do have insurance so we'll get it all taken care of. It's only an object, right? Material stuff that can be replaced, no? But, I'm sure you can appreciate the impact this news might have on someone who is already having a (pardon my French) shitty day.
BREATHE.
BREATHE.
BREATHE.
The day quickly devolved into a flurry of meetings, emails, phone calls, etc. Things started to look up. Then I got home, worked out, made and ate dinner, plugged in to do a little more work. Then I heard it . . . "sniff, sniff, wheeze, wheeze. sneeze. cough. wheeze. hack." What could it be? Sounds of respiratory distress filled the air. It was my cat. He seems to have caught a cold. Did you know cats get colds? Google it. I did. The poor little guy needs some Sudafed. They don't make Sudafed for cats. Google it. I did. Given kitty's pre-existing medical condition -- ideopathic epilepsy -- his cold does not bode well. Looks like Spence and I are taking a trip to the vet tomorrow. Like I have time for that.
Can I just have a mulligan for the entire week? Please???
Hang on, I'm just getting warmed up.
As my trip to work neared an end, I got a funny feeling. A sort of, "what did I forget to do this morning" kinda feeling. Hmmmm. What was it? Then it hit me. I completely failed to apply deodorant. Yep. I was sans speedstick. Crap. Double crap. I took quick action, scampered into the company store (yes, we have one where I work) and snatched up a mini-size of Secret solid. Whew. Crisis averted. Thank you company store.
In my haste to get my hands on the precious anti-perspirant I forgot my laptop in my car. Of course, it wasn't until I finished the approximately 1.2 mile walk to my desk that I noticed this. The next 15 minutes went something like this: Drop purse on desk. Say good morning to my teammates, covertly apply deodorant, walk my arse back downstairs, out the door, into the vast parking lot, retrieve laptop, get back into work. I think I finally hit productivity at about 9:45am. Triple crap.
Fast forward an hour or so later. Mr. Oz calls me to ask "do we have insurance on our wedding rings?" PAUSE. PAUSE. PAUSE.
Me: "Uhm, yyyyeessssss, why?"
Mr. Oz: "I lost my ring."
Me: "huh? how?"
Mr. Oz: "scraping snow off my car."
OK, so this is not good. Not at all. Mr. Oz felt terrible. I was upset and then sad. He looked for it everywhere, but to no avail. The ring, it seems, has left the building. Luckily, we do have insurance so we'll get it all taken care of. It's only an object, right? Material stuff that can be replaced, no? But, I'm sure you can appreciate the impact this news might have on someone who is already having a (pardon my French) shitty day.
BREATHE.
BREATHE.
BREATHE.
The day quickly devolved into a flurry of meetings, emails, phone calls, etc. Things started to look up. Then I got home, worked out, made and ate dinner, plugged in to do a little more work. Then I heard it . . . "sniff, sniff, wheeze, wheeze. sneeze. cough. wheeze. hack." What could it be? Sounds of respiratory distress filled the air. It was my cat. He seems to have caught a cold. Did you know cats get colds? Google it. I did. The poor little guy needs some Sudafed. They don't make Sudafed for cats. Google it. I did. Given kitty's pre-existing medical condition -- ideopathic epilepsy -- his cold does not bode well. Looks like Spence and I are taking a trip to the vet tomorrow. Like I have time for that.
Can I just have a mulligan for the entire week? Please???
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Rumble with Slumberland: Part Deux
After speaking to my Slumberland salesman yesterday, it appears that the highly anticipated bedroom furniture is arriving in multiple shipments. Much of it is coming from foreign parts unknown. My suspicion, although I have no way to confirm this, is it is on its way from a southeast Asian child labor sweatshop. Maybe the kids went on strike Norma Ray style and my dresser has sat partially finished while the union peeps lock horns with the corporate lords. I don't know. What I do know is this -- I cannot stand the Oz sleeping situation as it is much longer.
Now it appears that I will be lucky to get my goods by 2009. What!?!!! My itemized invoice, which I currently have in my possession, clearly states arrival on, or near, Dec. 5. This is some rotten business. What should I do? Cancel my order and find something else? Complain vehemently and demand a free nightstand or table lamp or something? Start a blog and tell everybody in the blog-o-sphere about my crappy experience? Oh wait . . . I already did that one.
Thoughts???
Once again I repeat, "curses to you Slumberland and your forced child labor practices which I can only assume stands at the root of all of my restless sleep woes!"*
*IMPORTANT LEGAL DISCLAIMER: The contents of this blog should in no way be taken as a statement of provable fact. The are the opinions of one bitter person and do not represent reality in any way, shape or form. Thank you.
Now it appears that I will be lucky to get my goods by 2009. What!?!!! My itemized invoice, which I currently have in my possession, clearly states arrival on, or near, Dec. 5. This is some rotten business. What should I do? Cancel my order and find something else? Complain vehemently and demand a free nightstand or table lamp or something? Start a blog and tell everybody in the blog-o-sphere about my crappy experience? Oh wait . . . I already did that one.
Thoughts???
Once again I repeat, "curses to you Slumberland and your forced child labor practices which I can only assume stands at the root of all of my restless sleep woes!"*
*IMPORTANT LEGAL DISCLAIMER: The contents of this blog should in no way be taken as a statement of provable fact. The are the opinions of one bitter person and do not represent reality in any way, shape or form. Thank you.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Viral Happiness
I just spotted this story on MSNBC.com. It is as if the universe was answering my last post with some cosmic creepiness. Apparently happiness is contagious and you can catch it like a virus from your friends and family. Who knew? It's science (as infamous San Diego Anchorman Ron Burgandy would say).
As you read the article, you will notice that this catchy contagion of happiness can only be picked up within a one mile radius. In other words, you have to be in close physical proximity to those happy buggers in order to grab some of their happiness. Abysmal, Hollow Squirrel and all you other far flung comrades out there in the infinite beyond -- you know what that means, don't you? You needs to be moving to the Twin Cities and, ah, preferably around the corner from moi. Only then will my happiness radiate out and penetrate your soul. Ha. Not that anyone would EVER accuse me of cornering the market on overt happiness or anything. Now, that's just plain silly.
This happiness study also claims that people who are happy are less likely to get sick. Nice! Does this help explain why Mr. Oz, who is almost perpetually happy, does NOT seem to get a cold or the flu whilst I am bombarded by the sore throat, dry eyes, sneezy, stuffy, achy, coughing demons multiple times each year? Rat salad. From now on, only happy people will enter my sphere. If you are happy and you know it, clap your hands -- and then get your butt to my house ya hear!!
As you read the article, you will notice that this catchy contagion of happiness can only be picked up within a one mile radius. In other words, you have to be in close physical proximity to those happy buggers in order to grab some of their happiness. Abysmal, Hollow Squirrel and all you other far flung comrades out there in the infinite beyond -- you know what that means, don't you? You needs to be moving to the Twin Cities and, ah, preferably around the corner from moi. Only then will my happiness radiate out and penetrate your soul. Ha. Not that anyone would EVER accuse me of cornering the market on overt happiness or anything. Now, that's just plain silly.
This happiness study also claims that people who are happy are less likely to get sick. Nice! Does this help explain why Mr. Oz, who is almost perpetually happy, does NOT seem to get a cold or the flu whilst I am bombarded by the sore throat, dry eyes, sneezy, stuffy, achy, coughing demons multiple times each year? Rat salad. From now on, only happy people will enter my sphere. If you are happy and you know it, clap your hands -- and then get your butt to my house ya hear!!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Equilibrium = Suck This Universe
Equilibrium is the condition of a system in which competing influences are balanced. Equilibrium plays a role in chemistry, biology, mechanics, physics, and economics. In all of these arenas and in all ways, the world is programmed to seek a state of balance; to bring that which is out of order or too extreme, back into its place of status quo. In other words, the very nature of our existence is one big quest for enforced balance. This helps support my theory that nature (you can call it the supreme order of things) doesn't like it when we get too happy, too successful or too excited. Just when you start to gain this sense of contentment, at that very moment when joy fills your heart, when your cup overfloweth with goodness, well, that's just about the time when some proverbial bird poop hits your windshield and you've run out of that blue juice spray and you can't get it off.
I also believe this theory jumps into effect when someone is down, depressed, sad or otherwise glum. The universe does what it can to raise the spirits and spread a little sunshine. But, oftentimes, the person is so bummed out that they fail to see the universe's attempts to achieve equilibrium. They miss it.
Well, ladies and gents, my eyes are wide open. I see both sides of this little see saw -- the ups and the downs. This equilibrium roller coaster is a twisty, turny MoFo. Why do people -- whom I believe are acting as unwitting agents of the equilibreum seeking universe -- try to rain on others' parade? Now, I know what you are thinking, "damn girl, if every person on earth exists as a pawn in the universe's desire to bring you into some perpetual state of emotional mediocrity, you are obviously a narcissist of unbelievable proportions!" Ok, OK. I hear ya. And, NO, I don't believe this to be the case. But, I do believe that every person we come into contact with has something to teach us. There is a reason for their presence and one of those reasons might be, just might be, to check us; bring us back to our own equilibrium.
So, why all the waxing philisophical? Let me tell ya. I'm feeling happy. I've got a case of post-Thanksgiving bliss and holiday cheer. I am in a rare zone where much is right with the world (at least my tiny sliver of the world), gratitude abounds and optimism reigns. This won't last. It never does. I want to enjoy it while I can. But, then the cranky attitudes, the cynicism, the "this sucks," grump-tacular, general malcontent of others intrudes. My equilibrium is once again restored making me question whether it was ever really gone. I try to block it out, to ignore it, but the universe won't allow it. It seeks BALANCE.
This "law of balance" has a strange effect in small groups of people as well. If you are a parent, a teacher, a coach, you may have encountered this interesting phenomenon. Have you ever noticed that if one person is "up" then another person has to be "down?" Why? Why can't everyone in a given family, class, tribe, team ALL be happy at the same time? Pay attention. You'll see it.
I'll tell you why . . . it's equilibrium. Word.
I also believe this theory jumps into effect when someone is down, depressed, sad or otherwise glum. The universe does what it can to raise the spirits and spread a little sunshine. But, oftentimes, the person is so bummed out that they fail to see the universe's attempts to achieve equilibrium. They miss it.
Well, ladies and gents, my eyes are wide open. I see both sides of this little see saw -- the ups and the downs. This equilibrium roller coaster is a twisty, turny MoFo. Why do people -- whom I believe are acting as unwitting agents of the equilibreum seeking universe -- try to rain on others' parade? Now, I know what you are thinking, "damn girl, if every person on earth exists as a pawn in the universe's desire to bring you into some perpetual state of emotional mediocrity, you are obviously a narcissist of unbelievable proportions!" Ok, OK. I hear ya. And, NO, I don't believe this to be the case. But, I do believe that every person we come into contact with has something to teach us. There is a reason for their presence and one of those reasons might be, just might be, to check us; bring us back to our own equilibrium.
So, why all the waxing philisophical? Let me tell ya. I'm feeling happy. I've got a case of post-Thanksgiving bliss and holiday cheer. I am in a rare zone where much is right with the world (at least my tiny sliver of the world), gratitude abounds and optimism reigns. This won't last. It never does. I want to enjoy it while I can. But, then the cranky attitudes, the cynicism, the "this sucks," grump-tacular, general malcontent of others intrudes. My equilibrium is once again restored making me question whether it was ever really gone. I try to block it out, to ignore it, but the universe won't allow it. It seeks BALANCE.
This "law of balance" has a strange effect in small groups of people as well. If you are a parent, a teacher, a coach, you may have encountered this interesting phenomenon. Have you ever noticed that if one person is "up" then another person has to be "down?" Why? Why can't everyone in a given family, class, tribe, team ALL be happy at the same time? Pay attention. You'll see it.
I'll tell you why . . . it's equilibrium. Word.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Prepare to Rumble Slumberland
It's going on week 4 and still no sign of my new bedroom furniture. What the "H" Slumberland? Why don't you call me already and schedule that delivery? I'm getting sick and tired of sleeping in the tiny spare bedroom. I've just about had it with the piling up of clothes and laundry baskets and bins full of crap just waiting for the copious storage space and ample drawers that the new dressers are guaranteed to provide. For the love of all that is good and holy, call me already and get your butts over to my house and BRING ME MY DAMN FURNITURE!!
Uhm, if I didn't mention it before, I have out-of-town guests coming on Dec. 12 and if I don't have my furniture by then, well let's see . . . me, Mr. Oz, Abysmal and Mr. Scribble are ALL going to be sleeping together in a single queen sized bed in that cramped little room. BAD! But, don't worry. Mr. Oz has a plan. We'll arrange ourselves so the boys are on either side and the sisters are in the middle. Wouldn't want any awkwardness happening, now would we.
SLUMBERLAND, you are on my list. The only way you can possibly redeem yourself is to call me and tell me my furniture is ready to ship a.s.a.p. Thank you very much. Your loyal (and increasingly crabby) customer.
Uhm, if I didn't mention it before, I have out-of-town guests coming on Dec. 12 and if I don't have my furniture by then, well let's see . . . me, Mr. Oz, Abysmal and Mr. Scribble are ALL going to be sleeping together in a single queen sized bed in that cramped little room. BAD! But, don't worry. Mr. Oz has a plan. We'll arrange ourselves so the boys are on either side and the sisters are in the middle. Wouldn't want any awkwardness happening, now would we.
SLUMBERLAND, you are on my list. The only way you can possibly redeem yourself is to call me and tell me my furniture is ready to ship a.s.a.p. Thank you very much. Your loyal (and increasingly crabby) customer.
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