Yeah, Great Blog…

So I was late leaving for work this morning (*sigh* big surprise) and I caught the first few minutes of The Morning Show with Mike and Juliet on Fox.  Now I had never heard of this show before, so I’m not sure how widely syndicated it is, but suffice it to say that it’s like Regis and Kelly on crack.  They pick the most ridiculous stories to cover and ask the most obviously poised to create drama and unnecessary controversy questions, from what I can tell from their website.

This morning one of their stories was about the growing trend of mothers taking their toddler daughters for spa treatments:  manicures, pedicures, facials, massages, waxing– the whole enchilada as some of the gringos at work say when they are trying to fit in with the Bilingual Editors.  In the interest of appearing to be fair, there were two sets of guests, one mother and her four year old daughter who go to the spa all the time and see nothing wrong with it and another mother and her sixteen year old daughter who is forbidden to go to the spa.  The spa loving mother’s argument was (and I’m quoting directly) “I want my daughter to know that she is a princess in my eyes and a princess in god’s eyes.”  She also said that she wants her daughter to know that she should be pampered and take good care of herself so guys in the future won’t take advantage of her.  How the hell is this little girl going to grow up with a healthy sense of self?  Once she is old enough to understand how the real world works, she is going to realize that she isn’t that special and she will no doubt be crushed and drown herself in the local spa’s hot tub.  I am all for promoting self-esteem, but fostering a sense of entitlement to be waited on hand and foot is damaging in the long run.  Perhaps a manicure as a rare treat or in preparation for a special event is okay as many little girls love doing “big girl” things, but having your daughter be accustomed to this sort of treatment on a regular basis will warp her sense of reality.  

On the other hand, I think forbidding your sixteen year old from attending the spa EVER is a little extreme.  Sixteen year olds, while not exactly rational human beings, are capable of recognizing the treatment you receive at a spa as a luxury and not a right.  Being a teenager can be wicked stressful and maybe girls would stop beating each other up and sleeping with their teachers if they got a massage every once in awhile.  Being able to relax is very important when the stress of life as you teeter on the precipice between childhood and adulthood is overwhelming.  This mother’s argument was that spa’s promote an unhealthy expectation of what women should look like, how they should groom themselves for society’s benefit.  I think that a sixteen year old can decide for herself if she wants to get her nails done or have a facial.  I don’t think participating in these activities sparingly will make a teenager think that she has to put this amount of time, effort and money into her appearance on a daily basis.  The teenagers who believe that are going to believe that whether or not they are permitted to indulge in a spa.  

Personally, I’ve never been to a spa per-se and have only had my nails done for the two proms I attended in high school.  However, I can see the benefit of getting pampered and perhaps when I have more discretionary income I will treat myself to such.  But seeing as the economy is being strangled closer and closer to oblivion with each day that passes, I don’t see myself being able to afford this luxury any time soon. 

Whether it likes it or not, the entire American population is participating in ”Get thin and buy clothes” program.

See, no one can afford gas so everyone’s walking everywhere. No one can afford to buy food because of the ridiculous prices, so no one’s eating. AND (best of all) because of the faltering economy, stores (luxury stores like Saks and Neiman’s included) are marking down their merchandise three months earlier than last year, and marking it down a LOT, because they’re finding that people no longer want to pay full price. Believe it or not, they’re seeing a 20% increase in profits than last year. Hmmm… are retailers finally realizing that their clothes are disgustingly overpriced and people never like to overpay?

Anyway check out the nasty sales. If you’re into brand names, Nordstrom.com and Lordandtaylor.com have some dirt cheap stuff. Urbanoutfitters.com also has a bunch of site markdowns. But aside from these places, it’s generally worth it to visit the store physically because they usually have additional markdowns (Bloomingdales, Club Monaco, J.Crew and the shopping mall bunch).

I read this article about how the color of you car says something about you as a person.

People who own emerald green automobiles, it turns out, have the most positive attitude about the course of their own lives.

Dark blue and silver are other colors chosen by upbeat people.

Red supposedly connotes an aggressive, high-speed personality, while yellow, theoretically, is for folks with sunny dispositions.

I own a yellow car. But, I’d hardly say I have a sunny disposition. FAR FROM IT.

People whose car is:	Have confidence that is:
Emerald green	5.5% above average
Dark blue	3.2% above average
Silver	1.2% above average
White	Average
Sunny yellow	3.7% below average
Orange	4.1% below average
Bright blue	5.5% below average
Bright yellow	8.3% below average
Red	8.8 % below average
Black	14.6% below average

I mean, at least my confidence level is only 3.7% below average, right? Or would my car be classified as “bright yellow” and not “sunny yellow”? In that case, I’m a basket case!

I’d say this is a crock of shit, really. I know plenty of people who completely contradict those results. Who did they poll, anyway? Who are these 1,900 Americans?

Sedate colors, not surprisingly, correlate with consistent moods. But if a primary color suddenly fills your rear-view mirror—well, it’s probably best to get out of the way.

There are better clinical indicators of mental health, needless to say, but Art Spinella of CNW says car color can be a useful “people-matching” tool.

“Your accountant should drive something silver,” he advises.

Interesting.

People whose car is:	Experience:
Black, dark blue, or silver	Consistent moods
White, sunny yellow, or bright blue	Modest mood swings
Orange, red, bright yellow, or emerald green	The most pronounced mood swings

Well, I do have some mood swings when I’m driving, but the severity of the swings depends on the mood I was in prior to the change. Like, if I was pissed off already, chances are you’ll see some road rage! If I was calm, chances are I’ll let most things slide. Maybe.

My mother has had the same bedroom set of furniture since Bill Clinton took office for his first term.  She recently finally decided that she had enough money to buy a new set.  She was further motivated to make the change by redecorating the master bedroom with a new color of paint and carpet after sleeping amongst the same vomit-inducing shade of mint green for the past ten years.  This redecorating was completed almost four months ago, so I inquired this morning about how the new furniture was treating her and my stepfather.

After waiting for three months for the set to be delivered, it finally came this past Tuesday.  Everything that could possibly go wrong with this process did.  First, they said that they would be delivering the set on Monday, so my stepfather took the entire day off of work in order to grant access to the house.  The company called at 6pm to say that they wouldn’t be able to make it that day and would come on Tuesday.  So my mother had to take Tuesday off and wait around.  Knowing that neither she nor my stepdad would be capable of transporting the furniture from a truck outside to their bedroom inside, my mother opted to pay extra for the delivery service that will move the pieces right into the room, unpack them and assemble if necessary. 

So of course when the truck finally does show up, there is one rather scrawny man accompanying the furniture who unloads the pieces onto the driveway and starts to bid my mother adieu.  She stops him, my mother can be rather demanding when necessary as several years of living under her rule has taught me, and fights with him to bring the furniture inside.  Obviously, she feels bad that the guy has to do it himself but it’s really not her problem that the company only sent one mover.  After about half an hour of back and forth, the guy finally agrees to move the furniture into the house (no doubt after hearing about my mother’s painful health issues).

After inspecting the furniture, my mother realizes why the guy wanted to leave as quickly as possible.  Every single piece was damaged in some way.  Some of the pieces have scratch marks and dents that were probably made in transit, which while unfortunate is not exactly the manufacturers’ fault, but some of the pieces were defective from seemingly “shoddy workmanship” (her words, not mine).  One of the bedside table’s paint does not match the rest of the set and some of the dresser drawers do not close all the way.  The mirror on the headboard is cracked.  You get the picture.

Now my mother is trying to figure out how to complain about this awful service and either receive a repair, or a new finished and pristine set of furniture.  She hasn’t gotten far in her search as she found the company online and can’t find a working set of contact information.

Apparently, she tried to check out the company before she purchased the furntiure.  She found glowing reviews online and believed the company’s claim of a 99% satisfaction rate.  There were no complaints filed against the company with the Better Business Bureau.  She thought she had found a good deal and would get her money’s worth.

I know she shoulders part of the blame here for this disaster, but I can’t help wondering how many other people have been scammed in a similar manner.  Shouldn’t there be a better way of keeping track of online companies that fail their clients?

As much as I hate the annoying TV commercials, when it comes time for me to furnish my own apartment, I am going to a physical store and interacting with a human being face to face before I hand over any cash. 

Or, to be more specific, SLEEP.

I’ve been having these weird insomniac issues lately. Like, last night I wasn’t able to fall asleep until after 5AM. I went into my room at about midnight, hopeful for an early night… and ended up reading almost the entire new DOUBLE issue of Entertainment Weekly, watched an episode of Gossip Girl on my computer, surfed the internet for about an hour, and then proceeded to play about two hours’ worth of Bejeweled 2. I finally turned the lights off after 5, it was already starting to get light outside, and just laid there for God only knows how long until I fell asleep.

I just graduated college and am waiting to move back home. In the meantime, I don’t have anything to do and am stuck in this sort of limbo because I can’t get a JOB to occupy my time, and I’m supposed to be saving my money, so I can’t really DO anything. So, I end up staying in my little apartment, going slightly mad I should say, and just waiting for a time when I actually have something to do.  Because of this, my sleep schedule has gotten all fucked up.  I can’t fall asleep until, as I’ve pointed out, really late at night, and I end up sleeping in way too late.  Today I woke up around 12:45PM.  And tonight, I’m sure it’ll happen ALL OVER AGAIN.

There have also been weird dreams going through my head at night. Has anyone else ever had test dreams? Like, you’re late for a test, or you missed a test, or you’re taking an important test that you don’t know any of the answers to? I’ve been having one of those dreams ALMOST EVERY NIGHT. I’m not in school anymore, I have to remind myself when I wake up in a cold sweat, it was just a dream.

These dreams usually happen whenever I haven’t written in a while. I’m a writer, and I think this is my brain telling me to get going again!

Maybe I should do that now. Probably not, but it’s nice to dream.  Dream of writing, I mean, not of missing tests.  I fucking hate that.

I was riding the bus the other day when a woman with a baby stroller came on.  Now, there’s a spot RIGHT AT THE FRONT OF THE BUS for people in wheelchairs or for mothers with baby carriages, yet she chose to push the damn this all the way to the middle of the bus, almost cutting some people’s legs off and sneering at them for being in her way.

She settles next to where I’m standing and proceeds to make googoo noises, pull crazy faces and repeatedly CLAP HER HANDS at the poor child staring up at her.  Now, this was one of the youngin’s that I actually like, one that you could tell had a brain because he had intelligent eyes, taking in everything around him, that sort of thing.  No unfocused eyes and drool soaking his shirt, you know?  He was a little older (1? 1 1/2?  Not old enough to talk, but not a newborn, either) with a mat of silky black hair and big blue eyes.

Eyes that were staring at the woman standing over him AS IF SHE WERE CRAZY.

What really caught my attention was the little thing the child was wrapped in.  It looked like a space-aged sleeping bag, made of this shiny, reflective silvery fabric and totally encased the poor child.  He also had on winter clothes.

It was 65°.  It was the middle of MAY.

Then, SHE PROCEEDED TO PUT A WOOL HAT ON HIS HEAD!

The kid actually started whining at that point, I don’t know, maybe because he was fucking HOT?

Are you kidding me with this, lady?  You’re going to boil your poor kid to death with that shit, or else give him heat stroke!  It’s probably your first baby and you just want to be protective, but you need to loosen up a little bit.  Yes, he’s a baby, but he’s still HUMAN.  You’re human, or at least I assume so.  Maybe a sweater would have been okay, but would YOU have wanted to go around that day in a sleeping bag, winter clothes and a wool hat?  COMMON SENSE, please pick some up at your nearest Walgreens.

All I can say is, WATCH THIS.

I was walking to work this morning (yes, I’ve taken to walking to and from work everyday as T prices are ridiculous and exercise is only happening for me if it’s got a purpose) and I witnessed something that part of me wishes I hadn’t, but part of me is lucky I experienced if only to have a greater understanding of mankind.  

This college-aged woman passed me, binder held against her chest and iPod earphones attached.  Her long raven hair flew behind her in the breeze and even with a quick glance I could notice the perfect shape of her legs and conservatively painted toenails.  I didn’t give her a second thought, because if you throw a rock (or rather more apt would be a Gucci handbag?) on my campus you’re bound to hit one or two of these types of girls.  However, the two men walking behind me obviously noticed her and made it a point to comment directly to her just what they thought.

“You’re really beautiful you know that?”

Cue slight pause in which I thought, “wow there’s a nice compliment you don’t hear everyday, I wonder what it would feel like if someone said that to me while I was just walking down the street?”

But then he followed it with, “But you’re so stuck up, see, that’s your downfall.”

I’m assuming the gentleman was miffed at the lack of acknowledgment given by the woman, and thus felt justified in insulting her demeanor.  It is possible that she was willfully ignoring the comment, and if so I couldn’t exactly blame her.  It would be a bit jarring to be told such by a complete stranger at 8:30 in the morning when you’ve previously been solely invested in your own little isolated world that we all reside in when we’re walking somewhere to a predetermined destination.  However, my instinct tells me that it is more likely that she simply did not hear the comment because of the music blasting into her eardrums.  In this case, the stuck up follow up comment is really ridiculous and could be easily disregarded as someone needing to defend their bruised ego.

What I don’t understand is why people think that they can say such things to a stranger and make vocal judgments about their character when they’ve been in contact with the person for mere seconds.  When I walk down the street I either stare straight ahead or admire the cracks in the sidewalk as my feet fly past them.  I do not engage with others unless I know them from previous life situations (and even then, this is limited most of the time to a quick “hey”) or we are stuck in a situation in which we are confined close together for an extended period of time like inside a broken down T car.  

Do other people not feel limited in this way?  Humanity really confuses me.