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Posts Tagged ‘Pecking order’

imageDear Dominic:

This was your first week of school, but I’m the one who learned a lesson.

When we were shopping for last-minute school supplies, I gave you a little bit of a hard time when you wanted a pink binder. I said, “You are going to a new school. Are you sure you want to call attention to yourself and be the kid with the pink binder?”

You put me in my place — rightfully so. You said, “It’s just a color, and I like it. If the other kids don’t like it, that’s their problem.”

You are so right. You are wise beyond your 11 years. I was wrong. I apologize.

My knee-jerk reaction was a leftover of my childhood days where we did what we needed to do to fit in so that we would not be a target for bullies. Pink was for girls then. That I didn’t like Barbies was my own dirty little secret.

Your father and I have raised you to be an individual, to be inclusive, to be kind to others, to like what you like and not be ashamed of it.

We’ve clearly taught you well.

I’m sorry I forgot those lessons for a beat.

I’m so proud of you.

Love,
Mama

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Dear Programming Executives at TLC, A&E, MTV, Bravo, Spike TV and Other Networks:

I just can’t thank you enough for your support of reality television. Anyone who knows me knows my obsession with the genre. Just look:

That was a response to me talking about “Tabatha Takes Over,” one of the many shows I watch. I know they are all edited for maximum drama and effect. I don’t care.

Let others have their “Breaking Bad” and “True Blood.” Give me “Hoarders” and “Pawn Stars.” While many watch the antics of characters such as Dr. Gregory House and Sheldon Lee Cooper, I can’t get enough of Lieutenant Dennis Croft and Barry Weiss.

Title a show “Man with the 200 lb. tumor” or “Half-ton Dad,” and you can guarantee I’m clearing my schedule. In fact, tonight I’m going from a marathon of “Caught on Camera” into recordings of “Project Runway” straight into “Small Town Security.” And I’ve made plans to ogle Honey Boo Boo on Wednesday.

Yes, there are other things I should be doing, should be watching. And no, I won’t.

Why? Because truth is stranger than fiction. Give me “real” people any day.

Read what Cantonrep.com staff writer Charita Goshay wrote about reality TV. I love her; she gets it. And I think she and I should be friends.

Maybe you can do a reality show about us. Oh wait. You have one: “My Strange Addiction.”

Thanks all the same,
Beth

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Captain’s Log: Embarking into hostile environment. Kowalski! We’ll need to win the hearts and the minds of the natives. Rico! We’ll need special tactical equipment. We’re gonna face extreme peril. Private probably won’t survive.

Dear unemployed graduate of the university for which I work:

Congratulations on your achievement one month/one year/three years/10 years (choose one) ago! It is impressive that you were able to get through two years/four years/five years/eight years (choose one) of a degree program designed to help you earn a career, make money, and permanently move out of your old bedroom in your parents’ house.

(If you had a job and were laid off, you can stop reading. This post isn’t for you. It is for the never-employed graduate. Unless, of course, you need a tough-love pep talk. In that case, read on.)

By now, you might be blaming the university for the fact that you don’t yet have a job. Don’t. Let’s consider a few things that might be standing in your way:

1. You don’t have any experience.
A degree in your field is a wonderful thing, but it doesn’t tell potential employers that you can actually do the work. You know what does tell them that? Work experience. No one should leave college without doing at least one internship. No internship? Do freelance work.

2. You haven’t been sending out enough (or any) letters, emails, résumés, etc.
You have to find the job; the job is not going to find you. You have to meet people, talk to people, write to people. You know, “network.” Put yourself out there. Ask professors for contacts. Go to conferences. Attend events in your field. Go to alumni meetings. Contact alumni in your field and ask for advice. Finding a job is a full-time job. Set hours. Get dressed for work. Work those set hours toward your goal. Then change into sweats, eat chips and watch “Game of Thrones.”

3. You have unreasonable expectations.
Your first job out of college is not likely to be your dream job. It likely will be an entry-level job that does not pay very much. Suck it up. Learn everything you can. Do extra work. Meet new people. Ask for advice. See No. 2. Condé Nast Traveler is not going give you a plum writing job right out of the gate, but you might get a position as assistant to the assistant to the marketing coordinator. All you need is a foot in the door. If you are competent, personable and motivated, you can work your way around. Everyone has to start somewhere.

4. You have a bad attitude.
Only one person is standing in the way of you finding a job. Go to a mirror. Look in it. That’s right. You have to do the work to find a job and have the right attitude while doing it. You want to complain about how hard it is? Do it in a private conversation with your mom. Show that you have the right work ethic by proofreading your résumé and cover letter, deleting those party photos from your Facebook page, and having a positive and professional public attitude at all times. Nobody wants to hire a drunk, lazy whiner. (And Facebook is public, people.) Talk the talk and walk the walk.

5. You blame the economy, the university, your parents, your professors, etc.

Reread the first part of No. 4. You earned an education. Your professors taught you everything they could within the university’s structure. If you were too busy sleeping through your 8 a.m. class, drinking whiskey with your roommates, bitching about how picky a professor is about grammar, etc., to pay attention in all your classes, it is a moot point now. You are a great white shark: If you don’t keep swimming forward, you will die. Live in the moment. And at this moment, you need to start researching companies, finding job openings, networking, submitting your résumé, and so on.

The world does not owe you a job. So go out there and take one from some other sad sack who does not have his/her act together like you do. Er … like you will. In the words of Aibileen, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”

Go get ’em, Tiger!

 

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Anyone can post postcard-perfect pictures. (And yes, I will too.) In the past two days, though, I’ve been more interested in capturing critters.

A puny French version of the late Trish the Chicken

Puny Trish has a friend.

A literal version of "pigeonholed"

 

From birds to beasties (the praying mantis, that is, not me)

There's a whelk on that there limestone! (Say that with a Southern accent, please.)

Flowers? No.

Snails!

Apparently, if you put them in saltwater, the snails leave their shells. Then you put them on salad. Um ... yum?

Un escargot grand

Un escargot grand avec des amis

Next post: flora of France

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Working my way through the YMCA group class schedule makes me feel like a certain girl who has a fondness for bears (and breaking and entering).

Stacie’s Zumba class was too fast.
Bobbi’s Zumba class was too slow (and filled with snotty women).
Ellen’s MVE Pilates class may be just right.

I’ll still go to the Zumba classes — snotty be damned — but I may go more often to MVE Pilates. MVE stands for “maximum versatility exercise” and there is a torture device involved: a special chair for all kinds of acrobatic work.

I did this maneuver, but with much less grace.

Oh HELL no.

























After 15 minutes of Cirque du Soleil, I was questioning my sanity. After 30 minutes of trying various “poses,” including the especially heinous one that is pictured second from the right in the collage below, I had sweat dripping off my nose. My nose! And my nose was running too!

But the instructor and other victims were very nice and helpful, and I feel like I got a great workout. And I didn’t die. So I’ll be back.

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I haven’t posted about the chickens, Shelly and Jeanne, for a while.

It’s because I hate them.

They started it. They hated me first.

It doesn’t help that they are so much stinkier and messier than Trish was.

But they do seem more interested in me lately. They haven’t run quite as fast when I come out to give them food and water. And they’ve been peering in the window of the playroom, almost as if they are interested in what’s going on inside the house.

Jeanne and Shelly, Peeping Hens

But as they are looking in, certain someones are looking out.

Dinner!

This does not bode well.

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The summer me is so different from the fall, winter and spring me. I wear hats. I don’t wear shoes. I wear T-shirts. I don’t wear makeup. I have plenty of things to do. I don’t have motivation. I didn’t take a shower yesterday until 10 p.m. because I spent most of the day in my bathing suit.

My house is a wreck and I have people coming over tonight. I’m finding it hard to care about cleanliness. Eddie and I have a list of 20 things that have to get done before we have about 40 people at our house next weekend for what we have dubbed “Brokeback Weekend.” It is a reunion of the facilities crew.

There will be tents in my backyard. Tents!

Eddie claims that most of the guys will be sleeping in one large eight-person tent. The ones who stink or snore will be booted to two smaller tents.

He also begged me to buy a small trampoline to insert danger into the act of jumping in the lake. His words: “This will increase the chance of medical attention by at least 50 percent.” Fantastic.

Gideon tests out the Injury Express

While the guys are out threatening each other, wrestling, farting and whatever else a guy herd does, the ladies will be inside wrangling children and enjoying the air conditioning.

And not noticing the layer of dust, I hope. (Cleaning, I do know how to quit you.)

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The chickens hate me. Or they are completely terrified of me. Or both.

It makes me sad, because Trish loved me. And I’ve done all the same things with them that I did with her, like talking and petting.

There’s nothing worse than ungrateful poultry. It’s foul fowl behavior.

But I guess I should expect it. Shelly and Jeanne are in that ugly teenager phase. All gangly with feathers sticking up all over. They probably have acne. And don’t all teenagers hate their parents at that age?

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Domestic dispute leads to murder

From Staff Reports

A apparent domestic dispute led to murder in Effingham County Monday afternoon. Trish La Gallina, 1, was reportedly killed by her sister, Maggie The Dog, 8, after an altercation in the family’s back yard. Their father, Eddie C., found Trish’s broken body Tuesday morning.

“I looked out the back door and thought, ‘Oh shit! Those are chicken legs!'” he said. “I was like, ‘Oh no. I really don’t want to tell [their mother].'”

Warning: Graphic images

 

The pair’s mother, Beth C., appeared to be in a state of shock, and refused numerous interview requests.

This is not the first incident between Maggie and Trish. Eddie C. reported that Trish was the lone survivor of an attack by Maggie one year ago. That attack resulted in the deaths of three other poultry siblings. Maggie was convicted of those murders, and was sentenced to life in the detention facility of the gated back yard or inside the house. She also was ordered to stay at least 10 feet from Trish for the rest of her life.

Maggie apparently disregarded that restraining order when the side gate was left open by Eddie himself.

“I was working on the back door, and was going back and forth to the garage,” he said. “I didn’t know I had left it open. I felt horrible because I realized it was my fault.”

Murder suspect: Maggie The Dog

Unwitting accomplice: Eddie C.

Maggie was arrested Tuesday morning and charged with first-degree murder. Her brother, attorney Vince The Dog, said that Maggie will enter a plea of temporary insanity.

“Trish kept taunting her, clucking in that way of hers,” he said. “When Maggie saw that the gate was open, she just couldn’t help herself.”

Eddie said that his wife wants to adopt more chickens, but that it is too soon to make any concrete plans.

“There’s not going to be another chicken that smart,” he said.

A funeral service will be held at the family’s house March 3.

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Trish the Chicken now has her own Facebook page.

Trish updates her status

Trish is more technologically advanced than any chicken (and many people). Check her out:

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