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Posts Tagged ‘Advice’

Dear Obnoxious Man in 10D,

Why can’t you just be a d-bag in private? Why must you let your fool flag fly on this plane?

I’ve been sitting next to you for 10 minutes and you’ve made three loud-as-hell calls.

I don’t care about Kevin or his long-term goals. I’m not interested in the project that’s six months away. And I am not impressed that you need to spell out the timeline to people who don’t get it.

I need you to shut up.

Sit quietly in your middle seat.

Read a damn book.

Or maybe read this post where I talk about having manners in a public place.

Please let me enjoy this flight to a leadership conference in peace.

Thank you,
10E

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Dear Men of a Certain Age at a Bar:

Look. Listen.

I know you want love — or at least a little action. You can have it, but you have to follow some rules.

Auntie Beth is here to help.

DO: Try to catch the eye of someone you find interesting.
DON’T: Stare at her like a complete creep.

DO: Check to see if she is wearing a wedding ring.
DON’T: Make any kind of move if she is. It’s true that some ladies might still be interested, but let those ladies be the instigators.

DO: Leave her alone if she is clearly in a group, and having a full conversation with someone.
DON’T: Rub all up on her like a cat on an allergic guest’s leg.

DO: Continue your hunt for eligible ladies by scoping out the rest of the bar.
DON’T: Put your hand on the aforementioned woman’s thigh. And if you do it anyway, and if she firmly brushes you away, don’t put your other hand on her waist. This isn’t Jersey Shore, and this chick ain’t no Angelina.

DO: Leave her the F alone if she turns to you, looks you square in the face, and clearly and calmly says, “Stop touching me. I’m married, and not interested.”
DON’T: Keep on trying to touch her, forcing her to inform one of her male friends who then has to stand between you and her.

DO: Move on! There are plenty of seemingly eligible and attractive ladies in this bar. (Really? We needed to get all the way to this step?)
DON’T: Ask her if she wants to come outside for a smoke.

Women are not that mysterious. We will let you know if we are interested. And we are more empowered than ever before to tell you when we are not.

Don’t be THAT GUY at The Lizardmen 25th Anniversary show, which was amazing despite the bar shenanigans.

Sincerely,
Auntie Beth, who did not fully F politeness last night, but also did not suffer fools.

Here’s Auntie Beth with her friend Jeff, whom she likes and willingly got near.

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Dear Readers:

Y’all know I love to have a post from a guest blogger. Today I have for your reading pleasure a post from Eddie. I dragged him to my Biddy Boot Camp. Here is his report.

Love,
Beth

Trying not to drown: My experience with Beth’s Biddies
By Eddie C.

Beth invited me to attend her pool aerobics class, and so I did. When we walked in, the grannies were already in the pool. We are not young, but were by far the youngest people there. Beth instructed me to get a waist thingy, and strap it on. (Note from Beth: He’s talking about an Aquajogger.)

I felt super self conscious because they were all staring at me. I think two people had worn my belt before as I had to make a major adjustment to the strap. I climbed into the pool, and the ladies were very welcoming. One lady in particular took an interest in me. She started giving me pointers:

If you push against the water as hard as you can, you will get a great workout. Trust me. My obese ex-husband tried this, and he was red and dying. He never came back!

My main thought was this:

If I’m dying, Beth better beat all these old bitches to my body to give me CPR. If I wake up, and it’s not her, I’m gonna be pissed!

The class begins, and I can best describe the movement as swirls and kicking. (Note from Beth: It’s just jogging.) I feel strange because I can’t seem to get the movements to look or feel smooth like everyone else in the class. The instructor looks at me, and I smile. She smiles back and says:

He’s giving me the courtesy smile.

Then I hear this:

Old Lady No. 1: He won’t be smiling for long!

Old Lady No. 2: Yeah! In about two minutes!

Damn! What happened to the sweet old ladies?! It was clear that there would be no friends in the pool; I was on my own. Not even Beth was making eye contact. (Note from Beth: Nope. I’m there to work, not socialize. You all know this.)

Things got heated up when we were instructed to touch our toes with our hands. I wanted to ask:

How the hell do we do that and stay afloat?

But without missing a beat, they all started doing it! Lucky for me, I had a secret weapon. I am 6’4” and could still touch the pool floor. Even with this super power, I could not even come close to doing it right. In fact, I was a rhythm-less freak. I could not sync my arms and my legs to save my life. I thought:

This must be the way white people feel when they try to dance salsa.

After what seemed like forever of “Let’s watch this big doofus try this,” the instructor announced that we had Tabata coming up next. I don’t know who this Tabata dude is, but he is not my friend! Plus, she started bringing out the foamy weight things, and I started to panic:

Crap! The burn is coming, and I just spent an hour trying to touch my toes gracefully!

The one thing in my favor was the water. No one could see me sweat.

Now, the way a Tabata works is you do 20 seconds on and 10 seconds off.

HOWEVER, if you are in the water, trying not to drown, there is no off time. So, you have to tread water instead of being still and “resting.”  How these ladies can do all these moves and never move from the spot, I have no freakin’ idea! I was all over the damn pool. I was all on top of folks. I would have to pause and use the floor to push myself back to my original spot. “I’m sorry! Excuse me!” is all I seemed to be saying the whole time.

At one point, I look over at Beth, and she was going so freakin’ fast. I was like:

How the hell is she going so damn fast without going head first into the water?!

I tried to match her, and I could not. She was doing a sprint, and I was well … not so much. At one point, it turned into a participants’ choice Tabata. I stuck to stay alive and afloat. I look over, and I promise you I wish I had my phone for video. The move that Beth chose is a familiar move to me but it’s called a parallette, and it’s done on the ground.

I was like WTF?! I have zero chance at that.

Finally, that part was over, and we put our weights on the edge of the pool. But that’s not all. The instructor gave us all a noodle: There was more burn to follow. We had to kick our legs back, get on top of the noodle with our arms (like a push-up) and press it down and up into the water one hundred billion times.

Next, circles with the noodle in the water and then reverse. At this point, I just closed my eyes. I couldn’t see a damn thing anyway, because the reverse circle dumps all the water in your face. You better figure out when to breathe.

I believe this is the point where most people drown.

We then had to straddle as if it were some kind of seahorse and paddle with our hands up all around the pool. (Note from Beth: He does not mean “paddle.” He means “bicycle.”)

I knew this had to be close to the end. Why? Suddenly as I was passing ladies on my paddling extravaganza, they became nice old ladies again.

Thanks for joining us.

Please, come back again.

Finally we put the noodles up on the edge and begin our stretches. I could not enjoy the stretch because all I could think about was peeing.

So my advice if you are going to join these warriors:

  1. Don’t think for one second that you are going to out-do them.
  2. Check your ego, or they will check it for you.
  3. Pee before you go.

Thank you to these wonderful, beautiful ladies for having me.

He lived, see?!

Pruney as he was.

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Dear Friends:

It’s the rare time of year in the South where I can put down the top on my convertible and be comfortable.

One of my favorite things to do is play music REALLY LOUD and (possibly) torture those around me.

I’ve been in a serious metal and rock phase lately: Think Halestorm, Drowning Pool, Rage Against the Machine, Disturbed, Metallica, etc.

But I do have eclectic taste. See this recent screenshot from my Ticketmaster app:

I’m looking for suggestions. What’s your favorite song? Though I will listen to almost anything, note that I’m not a huge fan of rap, trap, jazz and classical music.

And please don’t send me video game theme songs. The 14 year old has the lock on that. And he is persistent. (Read: annoying when he wants me to do something.)

(Yes, this is what I have to live with every day.)

Looking forward to your suggestions!

Sincerely,
Beth

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Dear Industrious Signmakers*:

While I appreciate your enthusiasm, we need to talk about execution. Have you read my earlier posts on the subject (here and here, for example)? I’ll assume you have not.

For two of you, I will allow that maybe the impending arrival of Hurricane Dorian and the subsequent Coastal Georgia mandatory evacuation scared you so much that you couldn’t concentrate.

Perhaps I should say “evaculation” so you understand me.

What’s an “inconveniece?” Your sibling’s daughter is a nun?

And you are close as in proximal to evaculation evacuation?

If so, I’d like you to meet another signmaker who is right there with you.

There’s a third one of you who has no excuse because he/she is nowhere near the hurricane. And this is a semi-permanent sign. And he/she works at a university.

Are the staff deficient in some way? Or is it just the proofing skills that are?

Sigh.

I know you likely are in a hurry, but just take a hot second to review your work.

Yours in appreciation,
Beth

 

* Thanks to Aimee for sharing these while she ignored the governor’s mandate.

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Dear People of the World:

I think a little etiquette lesson is in order.

If you are in a public place, you cannot behave like you are in your living room.

For example, if you are eating at a restaurant, even one as casual as The Varsity, you CANNOT talk on the phone as loud as humanly possible.

Don’t be this guy, who shared with the entire place his distaste for some cashier’s long fingernails.

Why do I know this? Because I was 20 feet away and could hear him clearly. He made me want to wolf down my fries and flee. And YOU KNOW Varsity fries are to be savored.

I’m so annoyed.

Similarly, you should not watch a video on full volume in a public place, ESPECIALLY not a fine-dining restaurant. Yet that is exactly what my cruise friends and I witnessed in the ship’s steakhouse. All 11 of us turned to face this rude man with looks of shock on our faces.

To no one’s surprise, he didn’t notice. He was too engrossed in some YouTube video — for at least FIVE MINUTES (which is a long time when you are peeved).

If you need more lessons on what’s acceptable (and not) in today’s society, check out this Forbes piece.

Your fellow humans will appreciate your attention to this matter.

Thanks,
Beth, a considerate and quiet person — in public

 

 

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Dear Lisa (aka Goat Yoga Lisa),

You are a great friend. One of the best. Not only do you play Bingo with me, write guest posts, and let me stay in your house all the time, but you also loan me your husband.

Well, Rob loaned himself, really.

And it truly was a shock to all of us hanging out in your living room.

When I said I needed a dress to wear to do the weather* because the chroma wall hated the one I brought, you said you would go with me.

But then Rob piped up and said, “I’ll go with you.”

You, Gunner and I swiveled to look at him. Silence. Two eye blinks each.

Me: “Wait. You will go DRESS SHOPPING with me?”
Rob: “Yeah! I’ll go.”

Maybe it was the wine talking. He vinoteered.

Or maybe he is jealous of all the blog space devoted to you.

Or maybe he just wanted to hang out with his pal Beth.

He might have regretted it in the morning. But then I brought him bacon in bed. (That sounds way saucier than it was. You were there. You made the bacon. You suggested I take it to him.)

He might have regretted it when we got ready to go. But then he filled a to-go cup with wine for fortification.

He might have regretted it when we got in the car. But then I put the convertible top down and fired up a great rock playlist.

Rob seemed to be having a good time in the store. This was his first selection:

img_8037

Thank God he was just joking.

Then he suggested a housedress with a belt. Ha ha, very funny.

We headed to the fitting room with three contenders. Rob, the fitting room lady and I unanimously chose the third option.

We were in and out of the store in 15 minutes. For real. He was in shock.

Rob: “It’s like a blur.”
Me: “You didn’t even finish your wine.”
Rob: “I was just sipping, but now I don’t need to.”

We did have to stop by the CVS on the way home. But Rob even helped with the ridiculous receipt.

We were back at your house just 30 minutes after we left.

Me: “Thanks for the date!”
Rob: “It was fun!”
Me: “Did you actually just say it was fun?”
Rob: “Yeah, it really was.”

I’m pretty darn proud of us.

To my additional astonishment (that Rob — full of surprises), he really took ownership of the situation. After my segment in the early newscast, you told me he said “his” dress looks great.

Then Gunner sent me this message:

And then the man, the myth, the dress baron himself weighed in after the later newscast:

So, I give thanks to you for the loaner spouse, and loads of thanks to Rob. He’s like my hubs away from home!

See you when I’m back in Savannah.

Love to you and the super shopper you married,
Beth

* I can’t believe I’m still filling in at the TV station after all these years.

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Hello all!

I know that this time of year is supposed to be merry and bright. And usually I am too.

I love to travel, but sometimes it brings out the Grinch in me.

Allow me to elucidate.

Why I’m annoyed today:

1. There is no direct train from the city to any of the New York airports. In a city that is so good about public transportation, this is ridiculous. One of the best things about Atlanta is that you can take Marta directly to the airport. Well, the domestic terminal, anyway. If you are traveling international, the planning ninnies make you take a shuttle bus AROUND the airport. Stupid.

2. If a person has TSA Precheck, it’s a fair assumption that he knows the drill with the bins. Not the guy in front of me. He was a hot mess: Wrong boarding pass, waiting for the bin slot directly in front instead of going to the other two that were open, not realizing he couldn’t take his phone through the scanner. Dude, stay home.

3. If I’m sitting by myself in the waiting area, and there are five dozen open seats, DO NOT sit down next to me. I will cut you with my eyes.

4. Once you get on the plane, sling your suitcase in the overhead bin and immediately sit your ass down. People who take their time talking, taking off jackets, finding their glasses, etc., while BLOCKING THE AISLE (usually old white guys) drive me crazy.

5. The armrest is Switzerland.

Anyway, aside from minor annoyances like these, my annual birthday trip was great. I’ll write about it later.

Love and kisses,
Beth

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Dear Fake News Media:

You don’t exist.

You are a figment of a certain someone‘s overactive imagination and marketing strategy to a willing audience.

You are an oxymoron. If something is fake (i.e., not real), it’s not news (news is real). News is not fake just because someone doesn’t like it.

You know what does exist? Actual news media made up of real people who work their butts off to inform the population and hold people in power accountable — the fourth estate that ensures a strong republic. (Oh that old thing … )

You know what is newsworthy? Here are the criteria:

Timeliness: happening now or just happened
Prominence: the person/entity involved is well known or powerful
Proximity: happening or happened nearby
Impact/consequence: affected or will affect readers/viewers
Novelty/rarity: out of the ordinary
Human interest: the lives of others are interesting

If it’s not out of the ordinary, it wouldn’t bear a mention. That’s just the way it is.

There’s a saying in news:

You don’t cover the planes that land.

You cover the wrecks.

Someone I know on Facebook (name withheld for protection) wrote:

MSM would be lost were it not for [Trump’s] tweets. They hang on every word, analyze them, and re-analyze them.

Um … yeah. He’s the president. What he says is news. Duh.

“Lost,” though? Not likely.

There’s plenty to cover without Trump tweeting.

It blows my mind how much we cover in one day.

That’s from Kristen Welker, White House correspondent for NBC News.

She said that last night in the AEJMC keynote panel, “Covering the White House: From Eisenhower to Trump,” held in Washington, D.C., and broadcast on C-SPAN.

(Yeah, I’m at a journalism education conference with other university professors/administrators — plus news organizations/foundations — and I’m still a journalist. Both of my professions are under fire. Lucky me!)

Those people who are suspicious of the mainstream media, though, should take solace in this fact shared in that same panel by Christi Parsons, former White House correspondent with the Tribune Company.

Because [Trump] is so personally antagonistic, journalists go above and beyond to double check.

The news media is not the “enemy of the people.” The news media consists of real people trying to do important work in a profession under siege by the person in the nation’s highest office.

Those who delight in calling the media “enemy” plus “fake,” think about this:

Do you really want to live in a country without independent media covering people making decisions with your tax money?

The true enemy of the people is the lack of critical thinking.

My advice to those worried about veracity and bias? Get your news from a variety of sources, as suggested by Herman and Chomsky way back in the ’80s.

My advice to the 43 percent in that poll? Please educate yourself about democracy and guy named Jefferson. Or don’t, but don’t answer polls. Skip the news, and just go watch Netflix and chill.

My advice to journalists? Keep on keeping on. Ask the tough questions. Submit the open records requests. Keep striving for objectivity.

We need you more than ever.

And tell me where I can donate so you can hire security.

Yours in solidarity,
Beth

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So sayeth the “Impressive Clergyman” from “The Princess Bride.”

Eddie and I celebrated 15 years of “mawwage” on Thursday. We chose an easy-to-remember date — 9.9.95 — because neither of us has a good memory for important dates. (Charlotte, you can attest to that.)

A marriage that lasts this long is, sadly, rare among people our age. However, we are fortunate to know plenty of couples who are still married after many years. And then there’s Al Gore. Why would he and Tipper divorce after 40 years? That makes me sad.

We were at a wedding last weekend (congrats Deanna and Chris!) and the DJ asked married folks to dance together while he noted total years married. Couples were supposed to leave the dance floor when he passed their total. Most of the couples left the dance floor after he said, “Five years.” After “10 years,” we were the only ones left of our generation. Everyone else had a good 15 years on us.

An anniversary is a good time to reflect on the good times and the bad. Eddie and I have had our share of both. Our trip around the world was a good time. Watching my mom die was bad. So bad.

Some of our friends are going through a rough patch, and some are planning a wedding. If any of these friends asked us for words of wisdom, here’s what we’d say:

  1. Real life is not Hollywood. You don’t ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. You can be happy, but it takes work.
  2. It is the hardest, but most rewarding work you’ll ever do.
  3. Make sure you know how to work together and how to argue constructively before you have kids.
  4. Kids do not help a relationship, so don’t have them trying to “fix” it. (We didn’t do this, but we know plenty of people who did.)
  5. You can’t change the other person, you can only change how you react to him/her. (And you can gently point out some modifications you’d like to see.)
  6. A marriage is not only a love relationship, but a roommate situation as well. You are not always going to get along, but you need to learn to pick your battles. Argue about the things that really matter, and argue to compromise, not to win. (And if you say you do always get along and never argue, then you are either lying, or one of you has stopped caring enough to argue.)
  7. Some days you will not like the person you married. You will love him/her, but you will also want him/her to get the F out of your face. That’s OK, because you’ll feel differently the next day. Or the day after that.
  8. Trust is crucial. Live your life as if your partner is there at all times. If you wouldn’t do something (or say something) in front of your partner, then you shouldn’t do it at all.
  9. Because he/she is not there all the time, you have to be honest, especially if there is any potential weirdness. (For example, if I went out of town for a conference, and went to dinner with an old friend who happened to be male, I’d tell Eddie in advance. Like this: “Eddie, I’m going to LA at the end of October and I’m going to hang out with Matt.” See, that was easy.)
  10. Take time to cultivate. Especially when children are involved, life can turn into one big “to do” list, and conversations more often start with “Can you …?” or “Did you remember to …?” Remember why you married this person in the first place, and spend some alone time doing fun and/or romantic things.

Remember to always “tweasure your wuv.”

So sayeth The Rev.

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