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Posts Tagged ‘Requests’

Brain Drain? Yes.

Dear Brain:

Listen, you’ve got to stop. This middle-of-the-night cry for attention is getting old.

What’s that? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Let me remind you:

  1. I don’t want to think about my ever-expanding to-do list at 2 a.m.
  2. I won’t tell off that person I can’t stand. You and I both know it, so quit thinking of clever things for me to say.
  3. Stop interrupting my dreams of Johnny Depp to remind me that I need to pay for my children’s after-school care. That’s just wrong.
  4. I ate plenty of food at dinner. You and my stomach don’t need to invent hunger.
  5. Just decide whether I’m hot or cold and stick with it.
  6. I don’t need you to overwhelm me with guilt about abandoning this blog for so long. We both know why, so leave it alone.
  7. Yes, I set my phone alarm.
  8. Yes, I locked the front door. Shut up! I don’t even use the front door.
  9. No, you don’t hear a kid crying.
  10. No, that’s not an odd scratching sound outside.

Please, I’m begging you: Go to sleep and stay there!

Thanks,
Beth

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Dear East Dublin Lions Club Members:

I was shocked to learn today that you have decided to cancel the 2013 Redneck Games. According to the Associated Press article, there are four reasons for this decision:

  1. The economy
  2. Low attendance at prior festivals
  3. Sponsors backing out
  4. Scrutiny from the Georgia Environmental Protection Division folks who found fecal bacteria in the Oconee River.

No. 1 is a lame, catch-all excuse, so I won’t even address that.

No. 2 and 3 go hand-in-hand, but it is your own fault: You moved the successful festival from July to Memorial Day Weekend last year. What were you thinking? Surely you weren’t surprised that only a few hardcore fans (ahem … folks like me … ahem) showed up. And the ratio of attendees to media people was about 3:1.

Media attention, Redneck Games 2012

Media attention, Redneck Games 2012

That brings us to No. 4 (maybe this should have been No. 2 — har har). First of all, YUCK! Get that cleaned up! Second, just stop people from going in the river. No big deal. Give ’em some hoses or a set up a sprinkler and they will be fine.

Redneck Riviera, Redneck Games 2011

Redneck Riviera, Redneck Games 2011

I hope you will reconsider. If you embraced technology, got your website up to scratch, and started using social media effectively, you could build on all the media attention from years past and have an amazing, well-attended festival.

You should not deny the public the ability to see this:

Bobbin' for pigs' feet, Redneck Games 2010

Bobbin’ for pigs’ feet, Redneck Games 2010

Or this:

Mudpit belly flop, Redneck Games 2010

Mudpit belly flop, Redneck Games 2010

Or even this:

Stylish attendee, Redneck Games 2011

Stylish attendee, Redneck Games 2011

Please reconsider. Don’t let me down.

Old times, they are not forgotten,
Beth

Southern style

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Happy new year!

Dear 2013:

Welcome! I am happy to see you. Your predecessor, 2012, was a tough character in some respects.

Although I am pleased you are here, I’m a little worried about your plans for me. The first day I spent with you was not one I’d like to repeat. The day started out great in the North Georgia mountains hanging out with good friends, but ended in a roadside ditch (well, nearly).

Let’s recap:

  • Humming noise manifests in the back of Eddie’s truck, and it is not one of the kids
  • Commence prayers to the vehicle gods (“Please let us make it home and we’ll take it to get it fixed immediately.”)
  • Prayers unanswered, and we receive vehicle god smack-down in the form of a clunking noise, a huge thud, and then black smoke billowing from the back end
  • Stuck 20 miles north of the thriving metropolis of Macon, Georgia
  • Call to Firestone roadside assistance that took two hours to finally fetch a tow truck (Idiot service woman on phone: “What is your zip code there?” Eddie: “Where? Here on the side of the road?”)
  • Car repair and car rental places closed for holiday
  • Tow truck arrives but refuses to transport children
  • Call to Middle Georgia Taxi to get transportation to a hotel in Macon
  • Taxi arrives in the form of Lester in a 100-year-old grandpa car
  • One week’s worth of luggage, snacks, a cooler, etc. loaded and taken to hotel
  • Dinner at Cracker Barrel (yay!)
  • Call from Firestone this morning revealing that the entire back end has to be replaced at a cost of more than $2,000 (yay.)

So 2013, I really hope that this is not indicative of our next 364 days together. I’d like joy, peace, health, and more money in my savings account than I ended with last year. If you could make that happen, then I’ll forgive your behavior on Day 1.

Thanks, and I’m looking forward to spending a great year together!

Love,
Beth

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Desperate but not serious

Dear Adam,

Let me just say right off the bat that I love you. So much. You are perpetually on the top of my “Get Out of Marriage Free” list.

And that’s why I want you to call my husband.

It’s an odd request, I know, but he is part of the Crossfit Cult. He can help you.

Why?

Because this is how you looked the last time in concert:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this is how you looked Saturday night at the concert in New York City:

That cummerbund is hiding something I never thought you would have.

I’m not trying to be unkind. This is your first U.S. tour in 17 years. I know you took time off to deal with some personal issues.

I just don’t think you were (or are) taking very good care of yourself. You shouldn’t be winded by the second song. Your leaps and high kicks have become an Ed Grimley-style side twist. Your voice sounded like Marge Simpson’s sisters at certain points. I mean, the audience had to help out with “Beat my Guest,” for crying out loud.

This is not to say it wasn’t a fantastic show. It was. Absolutely. It was just hard to reconcile the Adam I remember with the current you. Granted, you could accuse me of carrying around a little more me also. Touché.

But you are in your late 50s now, and I want you to be healthy so you can do what you love: Create music and perform for fans. (And I still want to meet you.)

So, do us all a favor and call Eddie. He can help you try another flavor, so to speak. Be the dandy highwayman you once were.

And remember, as Whitney said, “I will always love you.”

Vive le Rock,
One of your most devoted Antpeople

 

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Dear Annoying People in and Traveling to/from New York City:

Perhaps you are unaware that you live in a world with other people. You do not operate within a movable cone of silence. Here are some tips (prescriptive and restrictive) for existing in harmony with others:

On an airplane

  • Put your smartphone game on mute, especially if you are going to play it for the entire two-hour flight.
  • Do not speak loudly in Portuguese with your friend to combat the loud English-speakers seated in front of you.
  • Never hum throughout the flight.
  • Please be aware of how much room you take up when wearing a backpack. Be careful when turning as your backpack might hit (repeatedly) the person in the seat next to you.

In an airport bathroom

  • Step out of the way to have a conversation to allow others to use the sink and hand dryer.
  • The bathroom stall is not the place to hold a conversation on your cell phone, especially when there is a line of people waiting.
  • Wash your hands, for Pete’s sake. Clean hands save lives!

In public places

  • Allow at least a foot of clearance between yourself and the person standing in front of you.
  • Do not “tsk,” sigh loudly, rifle through your handbag, talk with your friend, or otherwise disturb others during a tense documentary. The movie theater is not your living room.
  • It is OK to remove your leather jacket at a concert if you get hot. There is no need to sweat inside it, causing a cloud of body odor to emanate from you.
  • If you leave your spot in front of the stage at a concert, you forfeit rights to that spot. You can’t keep coming out and going back into the crowd. It is never OK to push people out of the way.
  • Do not breathe forcefully on the arm of the person next to you at a concert.

In the nail salon

  • Treat your customers kindly. Nail polish should not take hours to dry. If a customer complains about a problem with the manicure that resulted from many layers of polish not drying quickly, do not say to her, “You not careful.”
  • Toes are attached to feet. Do not try to wrench them off customers during a pedicure.

Thank you for your consideration,
Beth

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Stop the madness

Dear People Running for Office and Your Fervent, Angry Supporters:

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the venom spewing everywhere.

I know who I am voting for because I have examined carefully your platforms. I have evaluated what is important to me, and what will help me in my life and the lives of my friends and family.

Nasty ads are not going to make me change my mind. Snarky Facebook memes are not going to make me change my mind. Rage-filled comments telling me I am an idiot because I don’t support you are not going to make me change my mind. (In fact, those kinds of comments make me want to dig in my heels a little more.)

Of course, if someone wants to talk rationally WITH ME (not talk AT ME) about the different platforms, I’m all for it.

Perhaps you folks should do that.

The right and the left are not as far apart as screaming talk show hosts would like us to believe. Sadly, there’s no room for shades of gray in political rhetoric. (“50 Shades of Grey,” though, would be AWESOME!)

I’ve lost my will to correct people about their “facts.” I’ve lost the will to comment on an old college friends’ ridiculous slogan-filled status updates. I’ve really lost the will to use Facebook at all because I’m afraid of seeing more of the above. (I know I’ve posted my share of political things, but I’ve tried really hard not to be malicious. I’ve also tried to be fair if not balanced.)

We still have two months to go until the election. By now, I doubt there is a person left who has not made up his/her mind. So please can you just STFU?

I thank you, and my blood pressure thanks you.

Peace,
Beth

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Goodbye to you

Dear Bread, Pasta, Various Other Starches, Cheese and Sugar:

You and I have been inseparable for many, many years. I can’t even express how much I love you — truly love you — in all your wonderful, delectable forms.

Unfortunately, Eddie is making me give you up. It’s that damn CrossFit addiction. I wish there could be an Al Anon-type support system for spouses of members of the CrossFit cult.

Apparently, that CrossFit prescription of “constantly varied, high intensity, functional movement” also means “Don’t you dare put more than five grams of sugar in your mouth each day, and eat only meat, seeds, nuts and vegetables all caveman-style.”

So the children and I, being CrossFit heathens, have unhealthy habits and must conform. In good conscience, I can’t continue to spend time with you, let alone invite you into our house. I could go rogue, but the guilt would be too much to handle.

I love you — you know I do. I just can’t see you anymore. Please know that this isn’t easy for me. In fact (and I’m looking at you, Bread), I want to hang out with you right now. Especially if you are hot and bringing your friend Butter.

But I can’t.

I’m sure I’ll see you once in a while, out and about. That’s it. I hope you understand.

Love always,
Beth

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Dear EL James:

Congratulations on the success of the “Fifty Shades” trilogy! You’ve come a long way since writing fan fiction about Bella and Edward. Your meteoric rise to the top of the best sellers list is an inspiration to many writers.

With all the hoopla surrounding your work, you would think so-called “mommy porn” is something new. But romance novels have been around in some form since the 1700s. Bodice-rippers such as Fabio enjoyed a boom in the 1980s, so maybe this is just a second wave featuring short-haired, yoga-toned guys.

I know you are in the middle of a book tour, so I won’t keep you. I just want to ask a small favor: When writing your next book, please avoid overusing the following phrases that make “Fifty Shades” hard to bear:

  • “Mean machine” (a reference to the protagonist’s computer)
  • “Shades of … ” (fill in the blank)
  • “Lips quirk up”
  • “Bit her lip”
  • “Cocks his head to one side”
  • “Lips press into a line”
  • “Blazing grey eyes”
  • “Hooded eyes”
  • “Peeks up at him”
  • “Inner goddess”

Additionally, we readers are willing to suspend our disbelief, but “Fifty Shades” is really more than we can bear. (For example, after her lover buys her publishing house employer then beats and fires her boss, Ana is magically promoted — without lover’s intervention — from lowly assistant who gets coffee to the position of editor. After being on the job one week. Right.)

This is a perfect review on Amazon of the whole setup:

About half way through the book, I looked up the author to see if she was a teenager. I really did because the characters are out of a 16 year old’s fantasy. The main male character is a billionaire (not a millionaire but a billionaire) who speaks fluent French, is basically a concert level pianist, is a fully trained pilot, is athletic, drop dead gorgeous, tall, built perfectly with an enormous penis, and the best lover on the planet. In addition, he’s not only self made but is using his money to combat world hunger. Oh yeah, and all of this at the ripe old age of 26! And on top of that, he’s never working. Every second is spent having sex or texting and emailing the female character. His billions seem to have just come about by magic. It seriously feels like 2 teenage girls got together and decided to create their “dream man” and came up with Christian Grey.

It’s not a good sign when even the sex scenes get old. (An orgasm every time? Even from him just saying her name. Riiiight.)

But you know what? I forked over $29.99 for the trilogy, and I’m not alone. Clearly none of the above matters. I’m not going to be a hater — good for you! Now I know the bar is set low enough that I can write my own raunch and make some cash.

Soon-to-be sisters in spreader bar scrawls,
Beth

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It’s been a busy week for me as I prepare for my Provençal adventure, and it has been a busy week for this blog’s eagle-eyed contributors.

Apparently, it has been a tough week for those who write for public view.

For example, Max found a syntax mistake made by a WTOC Web writer.

“[This] has me imagining 81 ambulances lined up in front of the McDonalds in Pooler,” Max wrote. And then do they snap the victim into nine pieces so they can each get a part?

Aileen wants to know what “homous” is. I don’t know, but I don’t think the Tea Party would approve.

Daniel wrote of this sign, “Do they want us to kill our garbage instead?” Good question. Perhaps that will make it easier to be “procesed.”

Cheryl noticed this headline:

That must be one large ensemble if they can lay off 30,000 and still have members. It gives new meaning to the term “big band” (or Band Aid, even).

Finally, Aimee spotted this sign at All-American Gymnastics:

At least someone had the decency to cross out the offending word. Adding the correct one would have been a bonus.

Thank you to this week’s contributors! (And I really hope I didn’t make any mistakes in this post … )

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I am posting?

I have been woefully slack at creating new content for this blog. I apologize.

I’m overwhelmed with possible topics:

  • My doctoral hooding ceremony, for which my chair wore jeans and paint-covered sandals
  • The AEJMC conference I am attending that is making me feel like a James Franco-style slacker
  • The fact that tapas places don’t seem to really understand the concept of tapas
  • That chickens do indeed like the taste of chicken

And the ever popular topic

  • War, what is is good for?

My head is exploding with the possibilities. So, I’ll make it interesting and entertaining by posting images of signs and notices sent to me by my fabulous friends.

From Chad:

For your convenience, software programs offer spell check.

From Kevin:

Please experience a moment with a dictionary.

From Royce:

So is the pro shop apologizing or not? Perhaps they should apologize for mistaking the question mark key for the period.

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