Joelle said around mid-afternoon on June 1, 2007 while listening to Elis Regina - Aguas de Marco
As I was saying… Hm. What was I saying? After all this I find myself completely drawing a blank. I was hoping I would be inspired with some totally bowl-you-over anecdote chock full of hilarity for my re-entry into blogging, but I can’t think of anything. Me, with nothing to say. Stop the presses!!! Hm. I think I just need to rip off the first post band-aid and hope it starts to flow again. There’s no way to count the times I’ve said “Oh, god, I totally need to blog this!” in the past year, but alas… I suppose we could start with where the hell I’ve been… let’s!
During my resurrection of this site I discovered that it had been one year ago Memorial Day weekend since I took my break from blogging. I didn’t think it would be a whole year; I really though I would just do a redesign, but so much happened and to be honest, I had a bit o’ the burnout. But! Things are on the upswing and I’m ready to start spouting my usual assorted rubbish publicly again. Lucky you!
I have tons of archives dating back to January 22, 2003 — the day I opened up shop here, but over time I’ve learned that I don’t necessarily need all my cheese hanging in the wind, so I’m going to be reviewing my archives by year and opening the entries as I do so. If you’re interested in some of my back entries (which I understand some are — hey, I like that one about the PMS grocery store meltdown, too!), those will be reappearing here and there, so be sure to check the archives. (I’m having a little trouble with my RSS feed, so if you happen to need that, please try again soon. I’ll get it all worked out.) It’s all good — subscribe to RSS at will!
Let’s see… for those who don’t know, mikey and I broke up a while back, but please hold your sympathies. 
While it is much appreciated and totally understandable, we’re very good friends and that’s the most important thing. There’s nothing to be sad about; we get along better now than ever before. No one did anything to anyone, no one is at fault, no one is a jerk, so there is no need to speculate. It just didn’t work. But, he’s like my family and we hang out frequently, so no boo hoo-ing, please. Please? It makes it awkward because we’re not sad about this anymore.
Whew, I’m glad that’s done. I was dreading that, for some reason. Ok… NEXT!
I’m living in a great apartment downstairs from my friend, who is no longer blogging, but I’ll still refer to her as GFI (Girl from Ipanema) for those who may recall. This place is the bees knees and I love it sooooo much. I wake up every morning to a magnificent view and sit out in the evenings to watch the sunset while drinking wine and talking trash with GFI in our favorite bar called Our Front Yard.
Moxie Design Studios is still doing very well. Better than well! You can look around and see that, I guess. Order our book! Mama needs a new pair o’ bras! I’m really excited about it, though. It’s been a little scary, writing a book for the first time, but we quickly got over it and have been having a blast. We hope y’all like it, too. It’s definitely not the kind of tech book your dad would read. (The cocktail recipes and gossip are worth the price of admission.)
I’m sure I’ll have something dazzling to say next time, but I wanted to get this first post out of the way. I’m happy to be blogging again, I missed it. I missed you guys! If you’re still out there, leave a comment and say hi, won’t you? And tell me what your favorite toothpaste is because I weirdly like to know these things.
Joelle said in the early morning on June 2, 2007 while listening to Bebel Gilberto - Azul
Good morning, my little chickadees! Before I run off to the post office, I wanted to make a few notes about the site and all that meta-type juju.
Firstly, I fixed my RSS feed, so it should be working just swimmingly now. If you would prefer to use atom, that can be arranged, so let me know and I’ll slap it in there, too, though RSS should do quite nicely. (Tip: you can also use the “Bookmark” button on the left to add this site to just about any bookmark/social networking service around. They have a bunch listed and you can do it with just a couple clicks!)
Secondly, I’ve added tags and ditched categories completely. It’s kind of an experiment, as categories felt so limiting and to put it bluntly, were a pain in my ass. To the curb with them, I say! I’m digging the tags, so it’ll be interesting to see how that pans out.
The word “thirdly” seems weird, so I’ll just keep going…
You don’t have to register anymore to comment here, but it’s encouraged if you don’t feel like filling out your goodies all the time. I have also dumped the “upload your own whack avatar” feature and opted to use the handy tools available to me through gravatars. This site is gravatar-enabled, so if you don’t have one, get one! They are handy-dandy!
For those of you who aren’t familiar with gravatars, you can assign a global avatar (that little icon next to your name in the comments) to your email address (for free) through their website. Then, when you comment on sites that are gravatar-enabled (like this one!) and use that email address, presto! Your avatar appears automatically.
Isn’t technology grand? We have no flying cars, but by god, we have gravatars.
Joelle said around mid-morning on June 3, 2007
(To anyone who is a city employee, it’s nothing personal.)
Dear Orange-Clad San Diego City Employees,
I and many others live on a hillside with streets that go one-way, dead end, don’t connect all the way through and are otherwise a labyrinth of traffic logic. When, on a Saturday morning, you decide to block off the one-way street that leads to our apartment building to tar the road, would it not be best to make haste? Sitting with your butts on the railing, chit-chatting over a smoke with your three other slacker colleagues while your truck with the two-way flashing arrows idles violently, spewing pollution, telling me I’m shit out of luck if I want to go home, is not really making the most of taxpayer dollars, now is it?
In the future, I recommend putting up a sign suggesting a detour so we don’t drive all over hell and back trying to find a super secret side street that meanders through the hills, hitting dead-end after dead-end and creatively cursing when gasoline is $3.89 a gallon. I also might suggest alerting the neighborhood that you even intend to tar the street. You know, so people can stop their lives for half a Saturday while you do so.
Thanks for fixing the crack, though.
xo,
Joelle
Joelle said in the early morning on June 4, 2007
I hate the phone. No, really, I hate to talk on the phone. Ask just about anyone — talked to me on the phone lately? Was it more than 5 minutes? You must have won the lottery this month.
Of course, for business I absolutely will talk on the phone. It’s a necessity, in fact. I like my clients to hear my voice, connect with me and feel comfortable. Those sorts of phone calls are fine because they have a beginning, an end and a purpose. But, when it comes to social calls? Feh. With so much going on these days, there’s nothing that bugs me more than someone calling just to “hang out” on the phone.
I’m not sure when this started. I used to be Super Phone Girl™, especially when I lived in Texas. It stands to reason it was because I lived far away and needed the connection. Yet now, I’d really just prefer an email. My work day begins at 6:30am and often doesn’t end until 8pm or 9pm at night — sometimes later. It’s just how it is when you are in the first five years of a self-run business… sometimes beyond. Such is life.
Unfortunately, one of my oldest, very dear friends refuses to hear me when I ask for him not to call me during my work day. I must have asked three or four times for him not to call me at 7am because I’m not only not awake yet, I’m trying to get my bearings for the workday. I’m responding to email during that time, why don’t you send me one of those?, I’d say. But inevitably, the phone would ring again and again and again. Eventually, I stopped answering it. I started responding with texts suggesting that the best way to reach me is via email, but an email never came and the phone calls graduated to mid-day.
Once in a while, I’d answer, but then we’d just sit there. There was no specific reason for the call — just to chat, catch up and so forth. I love to chat and catch up, but could we do it over lunch or a drink some night? Do we have to do it on the phone? The argument is I’m always busy and they can’t get me on the phone in order to make plans. Well, then send me an email and I’ll schedule it!
Last night, my phone rang at 10pm. Now, call me Grandma Moses, but in my family growing up, you just don’t call people past 9pm. I do realize that it’s 2007 and times have changed, but when you know I get up for work at 6am, why are you calling me at 10pm at night? And to that end, why are you not respecting my wishes? Why? I feel as though he is not hearing me, that his convenience is more important than my meager request to send me an email instead of calling.
This leads me to feel guilt because I love my friends so much, especially this one. He’s like a brother to me, but it’s not 1998 anymore and I have things to do. It’s just not the old days. Before I moved to Texas in 1999, this friend and I were joined at the hip. I’d get home from working for The Man at 5:30pm, he’d call and we’d go out to karaoke or go to dinner almost 5 nights a week. Then I moved to Texas, he moved to another country and I rarely spoke to him for almost 4 years. Once in a great while he’d send me an email and I think he called me once. This was fine with me! I understood he was half a world away and had his own things he needed to do. Time did not stop while he was away.
When you get older, friendships are harder to maintain. They do take work — I won’t deny that, but it’s just not like post-college, Reality Bites, skanking-in-the-quickie-mart-to-My-Sherona days of yore. It’s just not. Everyone has careers and relationships and some even have kids and pets and a billion other things they’re trying to do. I know my friends are my friends without having to call them on the phone to confirm it. Hell, I think Kathy and I talk on the phone less than 5 times a year and she’s the ying to my yang. I am closer to her than anyone.
I feel insensitive, as though by not answering my phone I’m being a bad friend. And if we got on the phone and there was something specific he wanted to talk about, if he needed me, if he said, “I really need to talk / a friend / you right now”, I would drop everything and be there for him. I might not be so frustrated. But don’t just call me up and sit there. Time is money, dude. It’s a hideous callous phrase, but when your workday is scheduled to the hilt, it’s just how it goes. Furthermore, don’t leave me a voicemail saying “call me back” either. Tell me what it is you want so I can be prepared when I call you back. If you’re just calling to chat, then say that!
Is it just me? Do you find that you talk to your friends on the phone less than you did when you were younger? Do you find that certain people in your life refuse to acknowledge that your relationships have evolved (or de-evolved as the case may be)? Do you feel talking on the phone less has made a difference in your relationships or has it just been survival of the fittest?
I was thinking about my aforementioned friend last night while out at my favorite karaoke dive. And when I got home, I noticed that Deltus hit the nail on the head in my comments when he suggested that perhaps my friend’s need to speak to me was greater than I realized. In hindsight, I think I was too hard on him. I’m a very forthcoming person as just about anyone can tell you. I don’t think to the point of abrasiveness, but if I feel something, I usually say it (provided it’s not rude or would hurt someone’s feelings). So, I forget sometimes that not everyone is like that and maybe I should have been taking notice of the nuances. I called him this morning and apologized for not paying closer attention and we had a great 45-minute talk. It’s not all about me… sometimes, you just have to suck it up and admit that.
Anyway, as I said, I went to my local karaoke bar last night to meet up with chickrawker for some girl talk and cocktails. I sang a few songs, mostly the usuals, including my favorite cheese: Captain & Tennille. I don’t sing a lot of music written past 1970 and tend to stick with swingin’ songs like Nat King Cole’s “Orange Colored Sky” or torchy tunes like “Lover Man”. It’s not often I see other people my age singing that stuff, but last night there was a girl in there that was ahead of me in the line-up with songs like “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend”.
Every time I’d come off-stage she’d ask me what I was going to sing next. I rarely know what I’m going to sing next. I get overwhelmed by the amount of songs in that book and can never make a decision. She informed me that she was going to do Patsy Cline’s “Crazy”, but I could do “I Fall to Pieces” if I wanted. Well, thank you for the hall pass! She was very sweet, though I sensed as if she wanted to make sure I didn’t tread on her turf. I assured her that Patsy was a lovely choice (though, in honesty, I love Patsy Cline, but would rather eat a stranger’s socks than listen to a karaoke version of “Crazy” one more time — nothing against her) and that I was going to try my hand at something different.
That bar used to be my stomping grounds, but I’ve long since outgrown the bar scene. I can appreciate she doesn’t want some girl coming in singing her repertoire. I remember thinking that back in the day and she had nice voice, so I made sure to applaud loudly and let her know I wasn’t there to steal her thunder. Because I’m just a big Thunder Stealer like that. heh. That’s my Native American name, by the way. Perhaps you’ve met my friend, Shops with a Fist.
Speaking of, Kathy and I have been working on a cocktail for a while we’ve called the Moxie Muffin. Yes, I know, I know. Get your mind out of the gutters, people. Or don’t — whatever blows your dress up. It tastes just like a blueberry muffin, I kid you not. It would make an incredible brunch cocktail… if you feel like getting loaded at noon on a Sunday, of course. We’ve been tinkering with it and tinkering with it, trying to get it just right so it’s easily drinkable and smooth, so last night I asked the bartender if he could help us out. I think we’ve worked it out on two levels: as a shot (for you party animals) and as a martini.
Moxie Mini-Muffin
Shake well with ice, strain into shot glasses. Ooo. Ahh. Have another. We’re not “creamy drink” types, but this was delicious.
Moxie Muffin
- 2 parts blueberry vodka
- 1 part Cuarenta Y Tres
- splash Frangelico or Amaretto
Shake well with ice, serve straight up in a chilled martini glass rimmed with finely crushed graham cracker crumbs. Mmm. (It should be a light almond-y color and not too heavy.)
We also came up with another blueberry creation that is so divine, I want to drink them all day. We sipped some “over brunch” one weekend and both came away feeling warm n’ fuzzy. We’ve dubbed it a Blue Note.
Blue Note
- 1 tablespoon of frozen blueberry puree
- Almond Champagne
- fresh blueberries to garnish
Drop a dollop of the frozen blueberry puree into the bottom of your champagne flute. Top with well-chilled almond champagne and garnish with the fresh berries. You can mix it together to get a lovely blue-violet color or, as the puree warms, it releases tendrils of puree into the champagne creating a really pretty presentation.
If you decide to try any of these drinks, please drop us a note or leave a comment to let us know how you liked it. Consider it Beverage Beta Testing. 
Joelle said around lunch time
My British neighbor across the street is outside right now watering her lawn or otherwise gardening while singing at the top of her lungs. The breeze off the water carries most of it away so I can’t quite make out what she’s singing, I just get little accented snippets wafting in from time to time. That’s awesome.
(The comment form was inadvertently inaccessible on this entry for whatever reason, but I’ve since fixed it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention, Deltus!)
It is absolutely gorgeous this morning. I snapped that at around 7:20am. Then, about an hour later…
Joelle: The front door is open and I’m watching a cruise ship port, the sun is shining… I’ve got some Brazilian samba action playing… it’s a good day!
Kathy: Here its hot and muggy like the underside of a nutsack.
Apparently, it’s not only hurricane season in Florida, it’s nutsack season, as well. I wonder if that’s like Duck Season vs. Wabbit Season. All class, kids. That’s our commitment to you.
Joelle said in the late morning on June 7, 2007
So, I was watching one of those endless, cut-rate celebrity-laden list shows on VH-1 and it occured to me: why do people even make videos anymore? Who sees them? Where do they play?
MTV sure doesn’t play them. Jenny McCarthy and dating show Singled Out paved the way for a deluge of crap. Don’t get me wrong, I have a strange fondness Jenny McCarthy and Singled Out — I’m not sure why. But now it’s nothing but intellectual gems like Pimp My Ride, My Super Sweet 16 and Who Wants to Be a Baby Prostitute? OK, that last one isn’t real, but for a second, I bet you thought it might be. See? They’re that bad.
Then there was MTV2. Oh, OK, this must be where they play the videos. What a crock! It’s all the same crap. In fact, if you visit their website, it’s almost purely advertising.
Alright, fine. VH-1 it is. I really used to love VH-1. I’m a whore for Behind the Music. I could watch a Behind the Music marathon for days if you let me. You couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a Behind the Music marathon. They claim they still run it, but I’ll be damned if I ever see it actually on. Now it’s just more of the same ol’, same ol’ — list shows about shocking celebrity hairdos (which if they think Andre Agassi’s mullet was shocking in 1991, they really should have brought their camera crew to my local mall) and D-list, hack no-names who have nothing better to do then pass off flaccid, milquetoast critique as comedy. Did they run out of artists that screwed up their lives or something? Cough it up, VH-1! There’s a coke-head, born-again, has-been bass player out there somewhere. Where’s my Behind the Music?!
OK, so there’s Fuse, but I feel too old for Fuse. Not only are they starting to creep into the crappy tv market, but I don’t know who half those bands are. Most of them sound the same to me (though, I’m sure chickrawker would totally disagree) and I find myself wondering where everyone’s mom is. How do you even get your body into pants that skinny? With the exception of OK Go, who I think are fantastic, not only musically, but for their clever foray into YouTube viral marketing, I really don’t connect that much with newer bands.
I’ve never been a huge video watcher, but what happened to them all? Occasionally friends will say something like, “You know, like in that video...” or “Remember that video?” Nope, sorry! But, I do enjoy some from time to time, especially if it’s a great song or if it’s got cool creative direction. Too bad I never find any actually on during waking hours.... I just can’t figure out why they need to blow millions of dollars producing videos no one sees.
So, I’m left with The TUBE music network, which has no real rhyme or reason to it. One minute I’m enjoying some Earth, Wind and Fire and the next it’s Michael Bublé, then it could be Poison for all I know (or, like now, The Alarm). You never know what it’s going to be, which can be fun when there’s nothing on, I guess. Ooo! Ooo! Bryan Ferry’s Slave to Love just came on! La la la la la....
I feel a bit sated, but I’m still pissy about Behind the Music.
Joelle said around dinner time
Well, that was fun — if you like feeling like you’ve just wasted all your off time for the last three weeks and revisiting your lunch.
Around 6:00pm PST, I was tinkering with my CSS to make one tiny area a bit cleaner. Somehow, faster than Paris Hilton gets out of jail, my thumb accidentally brushed the touchpad on my laptop and I wiped out my CSS entirely.
Yes. Yes, I did.
I never use my touchpad and I guess when I did a system restoration a couple months ago, I never went back to deactivate it, so without even thinking I hit “save” and sayonara, CSS! And guess who didn’t back up her stylesheet. Aw, go on! (This is the part where my lunch comes in, followed by a few thousand expletives that rhyme with “duck”, “truck” and “other shucker”.)
I am totally retentive about backing up my client’s templates and stylesheets — like a freak about it. I have no idea why I didn’t back up my own. After a few minutes of inconsolable ranting and raving, Kathy (oh-so-patiently) suggested I contact our illustrious host, Hosting Matters.
If ever I wanted to shout from the rooftops my praise for our host, it’s now. Mitchell of Hosting Matters, today you are my own personal hero! He restored my site and managed to keep everything, save one or two minor CSS edits. Hosting Matters tuned crisis into calm in just under 60 minutes. How’s that for service? Thank you, thank you!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go turn on everything that backs up anything in the history of ever.
I was talking with my friend Ross the other day about the origin of the letter Z (because these are the sorts of things we talk about). We were discussing how in England (where he lives) they say “zed” and we say “zee” and hey, why is that? So, we went on a Google hunt to find the answers.
After doing a little digging, we discovered that apparently all English-speaking countries say “zed” but us, the Americans. In your experience, is this true? As far as primarily English-speaking countries go, the only place I’ve been is England. Everywhere else I’ve traveled, I was mostly concerned with ordering more cerveza and finding the closest baño. My etymological interests tend to taper off after a few Negro Modelos.
Here are the basics of the letter zee:
- Both the British and American versions are derived from the Greek zeta, which makes sense.
- The French apparently use ‘zed’, as well.
- The Germans use ‘zed’, too.
- The first uses of ‘zed’ in British English is in 14-something or other.
- The first use of ‘zee’ in American English is in 1677, in a text book.
This leads me to wonder if this is your typical American snafu. If the primary Anglo population here in that time period was from England and that is really from whence our language stems, if the majority of the English-speaking world uses ‘zed’, and we most likely did as well until 1677, is it possible that zee is merely a typo? Some overzealous typesetter just plopped in the wrong letter? Assuming typesetters of that era didn’t use a QWERTY format and set their type using letters lined up alphabetically, doesn’t it stand to reason that he (or she, but most likely he) grabbed an extra E instead of that D right next to it? Seems reasonable to me!
Of course, if things keep going the way they are, in 500 years we’ll have de-evolved to the point of watching shows like “Ow! My Balls!” and won’t be able to form a complete sentence anyway, let alone worry about the etymology of one letter.
Joelle said during prime time
Have you ever been standing at a checkout and had your debit card declined when you know there is money in your account? If so, you’re familiar with the feeling that comes over you. It’s a delightful emotional cocktail of embarrassment, annoyance and worry.
After a mad sprint to a bank kiosk where my card was also declined, the annoyance evaporated only to be replaced by flat-out fear. I called customer service and got stuck in a never-ending voice-activated phone tree. Oh, how I abhor those things! I managed to stay relatively calm (miracle!) and finally got customer service on the line. I thought perhaps the strip had gone bad on my card — I’ve had it for 3 years or so, though I did just use it last night. They told me there was a critical hold on my account and that I had to talk to their fraud division. At this point, I still didn’t really understand what they were telling me. I desperately hoped this was just some random charge I made that set off alarms — not a huge deal, more of an annoyance.
Boy, was I wrong. After reviewing my account and confirming my passwords and such, they told me that my card number had been part of an identity theft download. They quickly confirmed that my charges were legitimate, so it seems as though they put the hold on my account just in the nick.There are two small charges I noticed when I got home for under two dollars each. They came from some online billing service and probably lead back to someone teaching themselves a lesson in their mom’s basement. I’m going to call the bank tomorrow and ask them to investigate those charges. Seriously, who pays for it anymore?
I can’t begin to tell you how I love my bank now. I’ve had mixed emotions about them in the past, but this time, they get a cookie. I can’t believe they managed to block it before my account was drained — assuming anyone had interest in my pittance. Note to self: it can happen to you. I honestly can’t imagine where this happened, but I’m really happy they caught it.
I have to wait 5 to 7 business days to get my new card, so I’m kind of stuck until then — I should go into the bank in the morning and get cash, I suppose. I still feel a bit weirded out. Saying I feel violated seems a bit dramatic, but… I kind of do. It could have been so much worse, but now I’m a bit paranoid. At least my card is cancelled. I think I’m going to stay in the rest of the weekend — it’s just been an off week. We’ve got editing to do, anyway.
It’s all okay now, but I could still use a drink. Sheesh! 
Joelle said at some point on June 11, 2007
That is the question today, kids. Do you www?
I don’t think I’ve actively used www in a URL since 2004 or so. I’m not sure how I figured it out, but one day I just realized I didn’t need to use it anymore. It was just extraneous typing. Whenever I see URLs on television or hear people read them on the radio and they actually say “dubya dubya dubya hot tech jobs dot com”, I think to myself, “How hot can they be are you if you are still using www?”
It’s my understanding and my experience that www went the way of the dodo somewhere around IE 5. And with the boom of Firefox and the anti-IE explosion of alternate browsers, www didn’t seem to matter anymore. A lot of people still use the term because a (sometimes) older, often less Internet-savvy crowd are still in wonder of the miracle that is the World Wide Web (and still use Internet Explorer). These tend to be the same folks who surf the Information Super Highway and have cyber-sex with their virtual girlfriends. You know, the girlfriends that look like supermodels, mysteriously ship electronics to your house and live in Nigeria. These folks may even believe the Internet is a series of tubes, I’m not sure.
Most websites I build these days are not structured to include www by default. I set up all the paths without it. You can access it by www most of the time, sure, provided the host has it structured that way (and if they don’t, I often arrange for it to do so). So, in essence the www still works, but it just seems superfluous. I used to think it was necessary, but during struggles with assorted hosts (usually of the Windows variety), I’ve been told that www is practically obsolete. I’ve even had sites deliver a 404 when trying to access them with www, but not if I access the URL without it. In fact, we’ve had hosts serve up a completely different site if you don’t include the www and vice versa (not Hosting Matters, though. They know what’s up!)
So, I’d like to know once and for all from all my fine readers and especially from those well-versed in geekery: Do you use www when accessing a domain and/or developing a website (if that’s your thing)? Is www a necessary prefix and if so, why? If it’s not, does it seem archaic to include it or just catering to the common denominator, since many people still believe it’s necessary.
I’d like to know if I’ve been misinformed or not. What say you?
Joelle said in the early morning on June 12, 2007
Today is Kathy‘s birthday! Her 31st birthday to be exact. The best part about her being my business partner is that she’s my best friend. I have very few friends as close as she is to me. I definitely know that no one “gets me” quite like she does, in that way that only a close girl friend can.
This year I wasn’t able to visit her for her birthday, like I did last year when she turned 30. I can’t believe she’s 31 now and I’ll be 34 this year. I remember when she was 26! ...Not that it was forever ago, but given the Internet, I think it’s pretty awesome that we’re still friends. Not just friends, but best friends. And we manage to run a business together without beating each other to a bloody pulp. Now that’s friendship, ladies and germs! I couldn’t imagine the Moxie Girls without Kathy.
Like any perfectly normal, healthy relationship, we have a small argument every couple of months. Usually it’s around the same time of the month (and I think we all know when that is), but somewhere between, “Good morning” and “Dude, what are we even arguing about?” we realize that we’re hormonal. Cue the waterworks and the mushy sentiments. Then we laugh because out of all the things in the world we could fight about, it’s usually something completely ridiculous like… see, I can’t even remember now. haha! Probably something along the lines of whether or not that guy from Heroes is cute.
So, happy birthday, Kathy. Thank you for helping me install MovableType almost five years ago so that we could become friends. Thank you for making me laugh so hard I spit things on my monitor. Thank you for making me see that “asshole” can be a term of endearment and that champagne is a viable everyday cocktail. Thank you for putting up with my shenanigans and for being hands-down the very best friend I could ask for.
I love you, clam dip. Happy Birthday.
p.s. I made you that cake right there. And then I ate some. That’s my gift to you. Gosh, I’m so considerate!
Joelle said in the early morning on June 13, 2007 while listening to Beck - I Think I'm in Love
Thanks to Tom at The Media Drop, I was selected to participate in the Nikon D80 Picture This Program recently. I’ve been coveting Kathy’s “Big Girl Camera” (also a Nikon D80) for a while now and couldn’t have been more pleased to be invited. I get to use this gorgeous piece of equipment for 6 months, then I can either return it, buy it or re-enroll for another 6 months. The only requirement is that I take photos, post them and discuss my experiences with the camera. It’s my understanding that if there’s something I don’t like, I am free to say so. So far, it blows my little Sony W50 point n’ shoot out of the water.
Don’t get me wrong — I love my wee pocket camera. I take it everywhere with me and it’s been great thus far, but if I’m going to try my hand at this “photography as a viable hobby” thing, a proper camera like the D80 is really what I need. If I were actually buying one, I might have chosen something less expensive, like a lower model of Nikon or perhaps a Canon Rebel (as my good friend Peter is so fond of his), so I’m glad I’m getting an opportunity to check out this camera I might not otherwise have been able to afford.
For those who have emailed me asking how they can get involved in this program — honestly, I don’t know. Tom emailed me through Flickr asking for my snail mail and then a couple weeks later I had a promotional box from Nikon arrive that I almost threw away. I thought it was just some marketing materials and promotional packaging, which I sometimes get in the mail. Sarah made me open it and inside was a letter inviting me to register online for this program. I wasn’t even sure it was from Tom, so I seriously had no clue about this program or how to get in it or what. In fact, I just read today on ProBlogger that they only chose 50 people. I consider myself quite lucky!
Anyway, I’ve made myself a promise that every weekend, I will take a minimum of 4 hours for myself to visit someplace different in this city for the sole purpose of walking and taking photos. I’ve recently discovered that I’ve fallen in love with this city again and there are a billion places right around my home that would provide incredible photo ops. So I’m looking forward to seeing what this camera can really do. Hm, I guess I’m just as interested in seeing what I can really do.
Joelle said at some point on June 14, 2007
Of the popular terms for female genitalia, I think I like “box” the least. Box. Really.... box? Could they have come up with anything less sexy? A box is something you get from UPS, not something one puts their penis in. Usually.
Now, don’t get me wrong — I actually do enjoy the term “box” for comedy’s sake. I sometimes will refer to the gynecologist as The Box Doc and things like that. But to actually use it in seriousness? Like in the bedroom? I think it would take a special kind of person to be able to pull that off. And by “special” I mean totally lame.
Imagine it with me for a moment: you’re in bed with your lover. The candles are lit, your tunes are crooning in the background, you’re sipping wine, you’re half naked, there’s lots of making out, things are heating up. Suddenly, your man (or woman!) leans over and nuzzles your ear, “I can’t wait to feel your BOX.”
BOX. It’s like being kicked in the face by an old Jewish woman at a post office. “Sonny, do you have my BOX?! I’m missing my BOX from my dawwwghter in New Yawk. She’s a dawctor, you know. You two would be veeeerrrry handsome togethah!”
Yeah, so scratch box off the list of Approved Dirty Talk… unless you’d like to schtupp George Costanza’s mother. All the standards don’t bother me in the slightest — even the dreaded “starts with c and rhymes with shunt” (which shunt sounds a lot dirtier, doesn’t it?). Not a problem. They’ve been used in dirty talk since the dawn of time, but box? I don’t get it.
And don’t even get me started on “beaver”.
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