Dating Etiquette

In honor of Scissor Girl's miraculous re-appearance, I'm going to start blogging again. Remarkably, I haven't actually felt up to snarking. Until a recent date.

Because you probably wouldn't even believe the ludicrousness of the date itself, I'll hit the highlights with some dos and don'ts for dating:

• DON'T deride my musical taste: I'm sure at some point I could appreciate the deep, philosophical sentiments behind Blink182's masterpieces, so why can't you even try to understand why I like what I like?
• DON'T try to seduce me with your physical abnormalities: The fact that you lied about having all of your own hair is bad enough. Telling me that you have a bald spot with a mole that you've named after yourself that you sometimes play with is hardly the stuff to propel me to a lusty mood.
• DON'T make up a fake psychological condition to explain behavior that might be construed as forward: Saying that you have "idle hands syndrome" and that you sometimes just can't help touching me -- and then demonstrating that by touching my back -- is like claiming that you have Asberger's to explain away your cussing. Fortunately I think the elbow you almost took to your face drove this point home.
• DON'T use racially charged-words: Here's a hint -- if you have to look around to see if any African Americans are around, it's probably not an appropriate thing to say.
• DO ask me something about myself: Listening to you prattle on about yourself for five hours straight (with welcome distractions from the play we attended) is pretty boring.

On second thought, bring it on. Maybe I can write a book about my horrendous dating experiences and then sell the movie rights. I'll make sure you're played by Paul Reubens. Or Mel Gibson since you two seem to have a lot in common and he could use the work.

Killing the Hero

OK, I swore that I would stay away from pop culture, but I'm so sick of this latest trend that I need to rant for a minute.

Warning: Spoilers for Lost, Supernatural, 24, Prison Break and an unnamed movie

I have been a Lost fan since the beginning. This is the only show I can think of that I watched faithfully from the very first episode to the very last. And I gotta tell you, the finale pissed me off. Why? Not for all of the reasons everyone else stated. It sucks that all the mysteries didn't get explained and that they left plot holes in that you can drive a truck through. But what really did it for me is that I had to watch the protagonist struggle for six seasons, only to die. WTF? Really? Are they just trying to prove the old adage "Life sucks, and then you die"? Because they just did. Prison Break did exactly the same thing -- let's reward the hero with a dirt nap.

So one could argue that these two protagonists had lived their lives to protect and save their loved ones. OK, I don't care for that, but whatever. Which brings me to the unnamed movie. (If I say the name, you're going to know who dies, and I don't want to spoil it for anyone who doesn't happen to enjoy these death endings.) The protagonist is a little girl -- maybe 11 -- who has a craptastic life and all sorts of horrible things happen to her, and then she rescues her little brother, and guess what? She dies. Right on the verge of having a chance at something new. Sucks to be her. She didn't even get as much time to do anything as Jack Shepherd and Michael Scofield.

Maybe I'm more sensitive to these types of stories because I've lost someone and when I want to escape into entertainment, I don't want to be reminded of that. I want to believe that other people get the happily ever after I didn't. Isn't there room for that in pop culture?

Which brings me to the final two shows: Supernatural and 24. In these two, the heros live. Why? Not because the gods of entertainment chose to spare them, but because there's still more to come. I fully believe the last scene of 24 would have been Chloe blowing Jack's head off, but they've got a movie. So they'll probably just kill him there. With Supernatural, this was supposed to be the final season and the ending was the original written by the creator, so until the show was unexpectedly renewed for a 6th season, I'm willing to bet Sam would still be in hell -- his reward for stopping the apocalypse and saving the world.

OK, rant over. Maybe it's time to write my own movie.

A Conversation with Mr. Oblivious

Last night I went on yet another pointless date. I guess I kinda knew going into it that we didn't have that much in common, but I wasn't quite expecting the world awareness difference. Some quotes from the evening:

The "Original" Movie Idea

Him: I work at Walgreen's and believe me, it's a comedy waiting to happen. Life in a convenience store is realy wacky.

Me: Hey, did you ever see "Clerks"? Kevin Smith had a great take on that.

Him: Yeah. That stuff really happens. I have this great story about a dog collar...

The New Religion

Him: (as he's about to tell a religiously offensive joke) I'm spiritual, but not religious. I believe in God, just not any organized religion.

Me: So you're a deist, then?

Him: No, I'm not religious. I have this unique idea that every religion sees the same God through different entities.

Metaphysics

Him: I don't believe in time travel. It's one big paradox.

Me: I agree, although scientists have this idea called string theory, where if you actually did travel back in time, it would create an alternate universe/timeline.

Him: Hey, that's really cool. How did you come up with that? Now I can believe in time travel.

Job Descriptions

Him: In your profile, you said you started out as a copywriter.

Me: Yep. I did that for about 10 years before I moved into strategy.

Him: That's interesting. I copyrighted a couple of songs years ago. So is that similar to what you do?

************************
I realize that I'm a very random person that knows a lot of weird things, but wow.

A History of Violence

On Monday, I went to see "How to Train Your Dragon" with my 8-year-old niece and 6-year-old nephew. While the ending wraps everything up, it didn't have the typical Disney ending. The point of the movie that every decision you make has consequences, and I think that was a little traumatizing for the kids. Of course, they are pretty sheltered, so this is probably one of the first things they've seen that's had anything more sophisticated than muppets or princesses. (I'm not knocking any of those - I have The Muppet Movie soundtrack.)

It got me to thinking about my own childhood and how different my parents approach to movies and television was. From as early as I can remember, I was watching horror movies and extreme violence. The first drive-in movie I went to was "The House That Dripped Blood" and I couldn't have been more than 6. I watched "Dark Shadows" daily and I think I saw every Roger Corman movie that was ever made by the time I was 10. In fact, I went with my brothers to see "Jaws" in the theatre and that was in the 4th grade. So the dragon movie probably would have been a walk in the park for me.

That's not to say that my parents didn't have limits. Anything that was considered "sexy" was decidedly off limits. So I've never seen an episode of "The Dukes of Hazzard" or "Three's Company". I caught one episode of "Charlie's Angels" when I was babysitting.

Why the violence was OK, but the implied sex was not, I don't understand. I guess it's that crazy Southern conservatism. Sometimes I do wonder what they were thinking, especially since I couldn't sleep without a light on until I got married. Of course, now I have dogs. Anything that gets passed them -- supernatural or not -- is probably apocalyptic anyway.

Random Thoughts

I've been dealing with a diverse group of people lately -- between clients, vendors, co-workers, family members, friends, former prom dates, it's struck me that you can kinda tell a little bit about people from their perspectives on books, movies and music.

I have one client who is the biggest Metallica fan I've ever met. He's even talked his wife into having "Nothing Else Matters" played at his funeral. On the surface you might wonder what a 40-something is doing listening to Metallica, but really, it's something he's listened to since he was younger. He's just stayed true to his tastes.

My sister-in-law and I argue about the ending of Watchmen. Spoiler-ish if you haven't seen it yet. She thinks that Rorshach should have just kept his mouth shut. I understand why he couldn't. And that's the difference in our basic philosophies. She's OK with someone who knows more about the situation making the decisions. I want all of the information, so that I can decide for myself.

With respect to books, I've tried about 100 times to read James Joyce's Ulysses. And I give up after just a few pages. And now I think I've figured out why. I don't like failure, and if I can't make sense of the first 15 pages, I'm going to feel like an idiot when I get to the end of the book and still don't get it.

Probably nothing you haven't thought of before, but just some observations. Oh, and the name Trixter? Based on my cat, but I've since learned that there is a pagan god called a Trickster that likes to create alternate realities and play with people's minds. I don't even want to think about what that means. :)

The Seven Dwarves

For some reason, during my senior year in high school I had a posse. There were seven of them, all sophomore guys who followed me around, so my friends affectionately dubbed them the Seven Dwarves. I'm not sure what their fascination was with me, unless it just that I was a senior and we all liked the same music.

We were all deeply, passionately in love with the 80s hair metal bands. If that means nothing to you, think Ratt, Rainbow, Europe, Dokken. And the Dwarves dressed the part. They all had long hair and wore band t-shirts and parachute pants. I ... didn't. I've written before about how I was not really part of any group in high school and the music thing was part of it. Most of the girls that listened to this type of music were stereotyped as slutty and they dressed the part as well. I had no intention of being categorized that well, so I just dressed pretty much the same way I dress now.

This weekend, through the magic of Facebook, I was reunited with one of the Dwarves. I also happened to go to prom with him and I think we dated for about a month as well. I don't think either of us were really that romantically interested in the other -- neither of us could remember exactly when or why we broke up. And if it was that unmemorable, it couldn't have been that big of a deal.

We talked for about two hours on Sunday night, and it was shocking to me how different our lives are. He still lives in Garland and actually works for GISD. He's a graphic designer, though, so that adds a little bit of the coolness factor that I remember from 26 years ago. He's got 13-year-old twins that live with him about half the time. His one social outlet is his Wednesday bowling night. He's got the ultra-conservative politics of the redneck town that is Garland. To be fair, though, he doesn't drink beer, so he can't be that much of a redneck as many of the kids I graduated with.

It was funny because he remembered really random things about hanging out with me. And when we tried to figure out exactly where we fit into the high school social strata, he was just as stumped as I was. Only one of the Dwarves really drank or smoked weed. They and I didn't have that much of an interest in it. Plus we were all broke and spent all of our money on music. In fact, the only thing I really remember us doing was going to music stores and listening to music in the car (usually mine, because I'm not sure any of them had their drivers' license) or at someone's house.

At one point during the phone call, he played a couple of songs on guitar for me. I hadn't even realized he was a musician. But his passion for music drove him to learn.

We ended our conversation with an open ended invitation to talk again. I doubt that it will happen because we just don't have that much to talk about. But I'm glad he contacted me. Sometimes I forget that there were good bits in high school. And the Seven Dwarves were definitely one of the best.

Update: Just heard from him again. One of the other Dwaves is in the Air Force and stationed in Japan for two years. It's so weird to think of these guys all grown up and doing important things. But hey, they probably think the same thing about me!

Incompatibility

Date update: I did go out with the previously mentioned guy again and decided that it was time to move on. I sent him an email yesterday and was surprised by how hard it was and how sad I was to do it.

The reason? There's nothing wrong with him and I didn't want him to think that I thought there was. (Parse that sentence!) I mean apart from the slight resemblence to Ben Linus/Rorshach (I seriously wanted him to growl "All the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us" and I'll whisper "No"), he's not a bad-looking guy. He's employed, has his own apartment in a nice part of town and actually finished school. He seems like a genuinely nice guy who is interested in a serious relationship and would totally treat his partner with respect.

But, I just couldn't get past the fact that we don't really have anything in common. His idea of a good time is wearing his Democrat t-shirt to a gun show. I'm apolitical. (And before anyone takes this the wrong way, I care deeply about the issues, but I think politicians are a bunch of corrupt, egotistical jerks that are in it for the fame.) I love to be outdoors. He ... works a lot. I love to read. He ... works a lot. At work, we drink rum in Friday afternoon meetings. He doesn't drink period.

Would it have made a difference if he looked like Johnny Depp? Possibly for a few dates. But in the long run, he would have kept giving me odd looks when I ordered wine (seriously -- it was like OMG, she's drinking a chardonnay. She must be an Alcoholic!!) And I would be wanting to listen to Metallica in the car, while he's insisting on something country. And I would never, ever find out how Lost ends.

So I'm trying not to be so antisocial and actually try to date. Which is turning out to be quite humorous. Most of the people who indicate any interest whatsoever are completely logistically impossible -- they are either 24 or in Singapore or Brazil. Then there was one guy who seemed kind of like a good fit until he started emailing me every hour on the hour about some historical event that occurred on the day. Needless to say, I blocked him.

I finally started emailing with someone who didn't seem like a complete idiot and so I agreed to meet him for coffee last night. And I'm still not sure what I think about him.

First of all, his pictures don't look anything like him. In the photos, he appears to have dark hair. In person, he has red hair or at least reddish blond. He's sort of a cross between Ben Linus from Lost and Rorshach without the mask. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but not really my type.

Secondly, he announced about 30 minutes into the date that he doesn't drink. I'm not sure that bodes well for any long term relationship. First of all, I like my wine and mojitos and I have no intention of giving those up. Secondly, if he's actually AA or something, there's typically a lot of baggage associated with that the I don't want to deal with. I've dated an addict before and it's not fun.

Finally, well, I was just kind of bored. In fairness, I'm not 100% sure that was his fault. I have a pretty limited attention span and we were basically sitting at a Starbucks for two hours. I don't know that anyone is interesting enough for that NOT to get boring. But after about the first hour, all I could think of was an urgent desire to go home and re-watch True Blood. (I've been reading some hilarious recaps online.)

So I spent about two hours with this guy and I still don't really know much about him. He regaled me with tales of being an HR manager and recounted some stories from his childhood. But I don't feel like I know enough about who he is as a human to completely discount him, and I too inexperienced with dating to know if I'm expecting too much from a first date.

Should there be sparks? Should I be enraptured with his conversation? Or is this just how two people get to know each other? And why, oh why, do I get Ben Linus instead of Eddie Blake?

Bringing Back Reality

Lately I've been criticized for not thinking big enough and being the wet blanket that quashes everyone's brilliant plans. While this may be true, my perception is that I'm the only realistic one who actually thinks through the logistics. And some things just can't be done.

Part of the issue is that I'm in advertising for pharmaceuticals, so there are legal restrictions everywhere. My particular client is absolutely paranoid about anything involving personal information, so all of those clever applications and gadgets are right out the window. And one of my bosses is big on personalizing things -- how can we ever do that if we can't use personal information?

Of course, when I bring this up, I get accused of not being able to think beyond Web sites. I just need to know where the line is between realism and pessimism.

Lessons Learned

I haven't posted much lately, because I've been in a bit of a funk, and nobody wants to read about that. I don't mind being self-refelctive though. So, because I've been accused of being a Pollyanna, I'm going to try to find the positive through some lessons that I've learned:

1.) Tigers don't change their stripes and if they insist that they have, demand proof that it's not a dye job. I'm not saying people can't change, but they have to really want to, and then it's probably going to be a real effort to maintain it. And most people (including me) don't have that much energy.

The corollary to this is that no matter how badly you want to believe it, you can't make other people change. You can't force emotions where they don't exist.

2.) Whatever wrongs you think other people have done to you, you've probably done the same things or worse to them or someone else, a lot of times when you didn't even mean to. It's time to forgive -- yourself and them.

3.) The joy in life comes in small things. Dennis Leary made a comment about this years ago -- that expecting continual happiness just isn't realistic. Things aren't always going to turn out the way you want, so just enjoy what you can. Yesterday, I managed to squeeze both Skid Row and Robert Johnson into a conversation. No, it didn't make up for the two-hour flight delay, but it made a couple of people (including me) smile.

4.) No matter how bad you think your life sucks, there is someone probably right next to you who has it worse. So have some compassion for others, put on your big girl panties and get over it.

None of this is new, but sometimes I just need to remind myself and if it's helpful to anyone else, then that's a bonus.

Public Awkwardness

As part of my New Year's Resolutions or whatever I end up calling them, I'm trying to get out more. This has ended up being harder than it should be because part of the reason I'm a little neurotic about being home is because I'm never there. This, however, is due to work travel, which does not translate into a social life. Or at least not one that I want.

So I've picked up the pace of my outings with a group of people I enjoy. Usually we hike, which is great, because being outdoors and out of the city is the next best thing to being home for me. But this past weekend, we decided it might be fun to go see a hockey game.

Since I'm not a great driver under the best of circumstances, I decided to take the Dart Light Rail downtown. After all, it drops you off and picks you up right in front of the AAC. What I wasn't prepared for was the Dart Light Rail passengers.

To give you a point of reference, Chez Trixter is located in a multi-cultural, lower-middle class neighborhood where everyone pretty much knows all of our neighbors because we're always out front playing with the kids or walking dogs. It's a very tame, "we-are-the-world" sort of place that touches neither poverty nor wealth. So I'm not really experienced with people who are in a vastly different world than I am.

Boarding the train, I sat down behind a mother with a daughter who looked to be about six years old. Another mother with an infant sat a few rows in front of us. And a little toothless old man sat a couple of rows behind me. Fair enough, I thought. Just a nice group of people traveling downtown. Then the doors open and three young men (who could have been teenagers or in their early 20s) got in. From the moment they got on the train, they talked loudly in expletives (keep the six-year-old in mind) and how they had to "f*&k" certain people up. One then remarked to the other, "It's hard to be a crip, man. It's easy to love, but being a crip, that's hard." I can only assume that he meant the gang and was not further insulting handicapped people, but who knows? Needless to say, this conversation made me extremely nervous and I found myself looking around at the others in the car, who all seemed to take this in stride. The ride ended without any type of excitement, so really, I had nothing to worry about, but this is not an everyday occurence for me.

So, on the train ride back, I was a little curious as to what would ensue. And I wasn't disappointed. On the second stop, an extremely dissheveled man with a large Whataburger cup boarded the train and sat across the aisle from me. He was talking to himself as sat downand would occasionnally spit into a paper towel in the cup and then take the paper towel out and smell it. He was arguing vehemently with whoever was in his head and I got nervous again. I *know* from my work that most schizophrenic people aren't dangerous -- they aren't typically organized enough to plan a violent assault. But that doesn't mean that they don't get delusional and occasionally attack people whom they believe are a threat. So I sat there, again clutching my seat, until he got off about three stops later.

So now I found myself wishing there was some way to be more poised through all of this. I keep thinking WWJD (What Would Jack (Sparrow or Bauer) Do?) but I can't come up with any conclusions. This may be a part of me that will forever be socially awkward.

Resolutions

While I'm more than happy to say goodbye to 2009 (which was a "challenging" year to say the least), I'm still not quite feeling the Happy New Year sentiment just yet.

Maybe it's because I didn't quite get around to making my New Year's resolutions. They're usually more like goals for me -- stuff like "Lose 30 pounds by November." I was advised by someone whose counsel I trust that these are really tactics that roll up into bigger desires, like "feel good about myself." And that identifying those broader ideals would motivate me to actually keep the resolutions.

So I spent some time trying to figure out what those bigger desires are and got stuck, and eventually decided that it would be much more fun to take my dogs on a walk.

And I think that's what the problem is. I'm good with tactical stuff. I know what I want. I'm self-actualized enough to know why I want it, but not intellectual enough to care.

Bottom line -- I'm going back to my old "goals" or whatever you want to call them. At least I'll feel some sense of accomplishment.

Little Boxes

I've been traveling a lot lately, and one of the few positive things I can say about it, is that it's given me more time for reading. Of course, once the captain tells us that we can use all approved electronic devices, it's time again to go back to the coal mines, but those glorious moments between shutting the hatch and then, have been priceless.

Now I'm not one to read celebrity autobiographies. In fact, I don't think I've ever voluntarily picked up an issue of People. But one actor that I really like wrote a book that I decided to read. It's called "Life's That Way" by Jim Beaver. I know him as Bobby on Supernatural, but he also had a major role in Deadwood. The book is wonderful, but I wouldn't recommend it unless you've lost someone special. It's about his wife's battle with cancer and death, and then the months that followed. Which was compounded by the fact that he had a 2-year-old autistic daughter.

Anyway, the book isn't completely depressing. He's got sort of a raw, sarcastic sense of humor, which comes through, especially when it comes to some of the bizarre things that happen during times like these.

One in particular has to do with all of the necessary paperwork. I laughed, because I remembered how awkward some of this was, and believe me, the government does nothing to make it easier. For example, on most of the forms, you have to indicate your marital status. But there are only two boxes -- married or single. Beaver had the same reaction that I did. I didn't get unmarried, so that seems like the appropriate box to check is the married one. But in the eyes of the law, the other party is gone, so I'm not married anymore. But I certainly didn't feel single. Single denotes some type of carefree, dating person and that clearly wasn't me. It wasn't like I had any choice in the matter, but nowhere on any of the docs was there room to explain this.

And it's not just awkward for people who have lost their spouses. I have a friend who was legally married in California before Prop 8 kicked in. They had an official ceremony, have a marriage certificate, rings and even a video of their wedding. But here in Texas, the government doesn't recognize that. So does he have to answer "single" when he completes forms?

I sort of get that you have to have ways to categorize people. After all, part of my job is creating personas that take a mass of information and boil it into one particular segment, thus destroying all the individual bits of a person in the name of trying to understand what a group of these people have in common and how you would want to talk to them. And I suppose for a census, it's good to know how many men, women and children, there are in a specific country and what ages they are. But when you reduce the categories so that not everyone fits into one, that seems more than a little lame. People are way more complex than a series of little boxes.

The Perfect Mate

I've decided that I want a TV husband like the ones on dramas with female protagonists. And I'm not talking Darrin from Bewitched or Ricky from I Love Lucy. I want the ones who let their wives go out and take on the bad guys while they clean, cook and take care of the kids. These guys are angels!

If you've ever seen an episode of Medium or Ghost Whisperer, you'll know what I'm talking about. Both of the female leads are up half the night being visited by ghosts and then compelled to go investigate. Meanwhile, the husbands wait patiently at home, ostensibly going back to sleep so that they're functional at work the next day. (Although on Medium, Joe was unemployed for a while, so I suppose he could have come back home and napped after taking the kids to school.) There's no bitching about the girls being out all night or not pulling their share of the household chores or not spending enough time with the kids.

Which would be perfect for me. While I don't have kids yet, I do have a houseful of critters who need attention, which results in the house needing attention and a job that doesn't seem to know how to tell time. (Are all those 3 a.m. emails really necessary????) So sometimes I think a Stepford husband would be awesome. Maybe I'll just call CBS and NBC and ask them to send me Joe and/or Jim when Allison and Melinda are through with them.

Smoke and Mirrors

Recently, we hired an SVP of Hoodoo. She comes complete with a MBA, which of course around here makes her a Genius and the Smartest Person Alive.

She deigned to enlighten some of us who are apparently only apprentice witches (who mistakenly thought we were fully qualified years ago) through a meeting that was supposed to explain all about how her mad hoodoo skilz could make our brand of voodoo more powerful.

After an hour of what can only be described as puffery and bragging about various hexes and curses and how happy her clients were with the results, we still didn't have a clue about what she could do for us. We *know* that magic is the critical component to our industry. But access to the particular brand of hoodoo the SVP supposedly practices was cut along with a number of employees a couple of years ago.

What I would have like to hear from her is:

* What type of hexes and curses are available?
* How can I leverage a particular hex to motivate my clients to make the right decisions?
* Are voodoo dolls still effective or do I need to look at Voodoo 3.0 for more innovative executions?

And so on. Instead, we got insults about how un-insights-driven our work has been and she even had the cajones to take on another SVP (who has been in this industry for YEARS) and tell her how wrong her thinking was.

I'm sure as we move forward, I'll grow to respect her. But until then, I just think she's a huge witch who can kiss my asterisk.

The Perils of Facebook

I'm going to steal a page out of Scissor Girl's blog because I need to vent. I have sort of a love/hate relationship with Facebook. It's fun to keep up with friends who live out of town, people I've met in other countries and well, colleagues who work in the other building. It's not so fun to read the updates from my ex-boyfriend's sister because I'm too much of a wuss to unfriend her. But it's always kinda balanced out.

But now I've been friended by several people in Upper Management. And I feel like I had to accept the request. Just to be clear, these are not people I've worked closely with and developed a great relationship with. These are people who don't really know me unless my name happened to be mentioned as an option during our layoff seasons.

Which makes this all a little bit creepy -- it feels like Facebook is starting to become Big Brother. It's not like I'm posting racy photos of myself (a. because there are none. and b. because that's something I wouldn't subject my worst enemy too -- I believe it's considered an act of terrorism in some countries). I also don't update my status that often and when I do, it's usually something pretty benign. The few times I've vented about work, I tried to make it so cryptic that one could tell I was frustrated, but couldn't really understand about what.

But now I feel like I have to be extra careful -- not just of what I write about myself, but also when I comment on my friends' status. I realize that I'm much more paranoid and neurotic than your average bear, but I like my privacy very much, thank you. It's sort of the same issue I have with drug testing. I don't do any, so it's not like I have to worry about that, but I don't like the idea that someone is using a bodily fluid to determine if I'm employable. And I don't like the fact that if I'm feeling a little bit snarky, I have to tone it down for fear that it will come back to haunt me the next time layoffs roll around.

But I guess this is the social part of social networking.

Radiation: Day 4

We've made it almost through the first full week and so far, so good. As far as my dog knows, he just goes to an indoor playroom every day where he gets to hang out with other dogs most of the day and has to sleep for about 20 minutes. And we've gotten into a routine for leaving the house every morning that seems to work. I can live with this.

So on a totally unrelated note, I have to comment on the strange and wonderful thing that is children's literature. My sister has two small children, one of which is a five-year-old boy. Right now, he is completely fascinated with The Wind in the Willows. I was a little surprised when my sister told me this -- I was picturing a Beatrix Potter book with dainty tea parties, etc. I *know* that I've read this book somewhere along the line, but I must have blocked it. When she told me the plot, I suddenly understood why a young boy (and probably most young girls) would love it so much. Among the awesomeness within the story, there are:

* Multiple car thefts
* Police chases
* Arrest and trial
* Imprisonment
* At least one prison break
* Cross-dressing
* Fraud
* Weapons smuggling and procurement
* Epic battles

It's like all the best Hollywood blockbusters rolled into one! You know, if my mom read this to me as a child, it explains an awful lot!

Radiation: Day 1

This is actually NOT a post about zombies, although that might be fun at some point. Considering I work with quite a few. :)

Today is my beloved puppy's first day of radiation therapy. To keep my anxiety at a manageable level, I thought I'd list all the (non-medical) benefits of us going through this.

1) Totally HOT vet. OK, forget the fact that he's probably 15 years younger than me and married -- I'm not interested in dating him, but it's nice to have eye candy when you're panicked about your dog's health.

2) Tons of Puppy Playtime. Before and after the treatment, all of the dogs there get to roam free and play in the back office of the clinic. So it's almost like an in-door dog park.

3) Company for the Commute. It was kind of fun to have a companion in the car this morning. The clinic is very close to my work, so I had company for most of the drive.

4) Hard Stop in the Evenings. Like most of us in this business, I could work 24 hours a day and still have stuff to do. But now, I'll be like my co-workers with kids -- I HAVE to leave by 5:30 because I have to pick him up before 6. Like them, I'll probably still go home and work a little more, but at least it's a change of scenery.

So a little less snark today and a bit more optimism for me. I'll never be a Pollyanna, but constant nihilism gets a little old too.

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

One of the things I used to like about my job was my relative anonymity. Oh, I'd present stuff at client meetings, but I had so little contact with any individual that they probably didn't remember me from one meeting to the next.

That's changed a lot with my new responsibilities. In fact, I spent about six weeks straight in face-to-face meetings. And with a recent project, I've had almost daily contact with one person in particular.

So imagine my surprise when, in a conference call with said client and her boss, she acted like she had no idea who I was. Part of the problem was that her boss disagreed with the direction she had taken us in, so I think she was CYA by acting like we just appeared out of nowhere with these crazy recommendations.

Initially I was really upset about the meeting and her attitude. But as I remember that our industry is really about creating illusions, I guess it's just part of the game. I'm more than happy to stay behind the smoke and mirrors.

Teenage Angst-Land

Over the weekend, I read a really humorous take on the Twilight series and saw a promo for the new Vampire Diaries show on the CW and it got me started thinking. Why in the world would a 100+ year-old vampire want to (a) go to high school and (b) date a teenage girl?

Now, I'm not using this to slam Twilight -- it's really an honest question. (Buffy did it, too, and I actually liked that show, although it makes more sense since she is in fact a slayer.) Marketing-wise, I know why -- teenage girls want to read about teenage girls. But what I mean is logic-wise.

Maybe it was just me, but I hated high school. The idea of going back there again is horrifying. Especially if you were older and wiser. I mean, you put up with the BS when you were there because you just didn't know any better. I would think that someone with 100+ years of being around people would spend the entire time rolling their eyes.

And then there's the teenage girl aspect. I'm not expecting vampires to hang out in geriatric facilities, but really? You want to hang out all day long with someone whose biggest concern is who she's going to prom with and what she's going to wear? Remember, you've been around through two World Wars, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, two Gulf Wars, the depression, the Cold War, desegregation, just to name a few. What in the world would you talk about? I guess angsty feelings would probably be something you have in common. Maybe you could listen to Pearl Jam together and talk about how cruel the world is.

I know you should really leave logic out of the picture when you're discussing teenage vampire stories. And I probably should just not even think about things that aren't designed to appeal to me. But let's face it -- what better way to avoid my own angst. ;)