8 Things You Don’t Know About Me

Joelle said in the early morning on June 18, 2007 while listening to Sarah Vaughan - It's Crazy

It’s been a long time since I’ve done a meme, but I figured it’s Monday — we need easily digestible bits today.  I swiped this meme from my friend and colleague Lisa (who, by the way, is writing Wordpress for Dummies from our same publisher — just had to get that plug in!).  So, 8 things you don’t know… away we go!

1. I detest use of the suffix “-gate” to reference a scandal. It drives me absolutely up a wall. Let’s break it down, shall we?  The “-gate” suffix originated with the Nixon scandal of Watergate, a scandal so named for the hotel at which the hijinx took place.  Watergate Hotel.  All one word.  A proper noun. Watergate.  There’s no Katrinagate Hotel… no Macacagate Hotel.  Use your heads, media!  And we’re supposed to be getting our news from you?  Now we’ve got ”Monica-gate” (really?  Monica-gate? With all the imagery associated with that scandal, the best they could do was Monica-gate?) , ”Plame-gate”, ”Nipple-gate” (which is just hilarious — it’s not even political!), ”Gonzales-gate”, Camilla-gate?  Ok, wait just one damn minute here…

   ”Camilla-gate”.  This isn’t even an American scandal!  Yet still… “Camilla-gate”.  I don’t get it.

2. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I really hate marzipan.  I mean, REALLY hate marzipan.  When I was a kid, my aunt gave me fruit-shaped marzipan for some holiday and I think it scarred me for life.  They looked innocent enough, sitting there in the little brown box, looking like cheerful, wee pears and apples. I thought for sure they would taste like… well, pears and apples.  Much to my shock and horror, the taste and texture was what I would imagine licking the business end of a junk yard dog might be like.  Only, slightly almond-flavored.
3. I’ve never been a big crier, but right around 30 years old, I noticed that my emotions were more on the surface than they used to be.  I’m not entirely sure what that’s about and I find it simultaneously freeing and disconcerting.  I think the day I cried at a commercial for puppy food was when I realized my ovaries hold a much larger share in the company than I previously thought.
4. Sometimes when I get really angry, I cry, too.  Of course, this pisses me off even more because when I’m angry, the last thing I want to convey is weakness, but when I’m so mad, I can’t speak, it may go something like this…

   “Joelle, I’m sorry.  We’re laying you off and giving your job to this horribly underqualified slutty girl from marketing,” says the smarmy ass behind the desk.

   Quietly seething, I will respond with nothing but welling tears, a locked jaw and an expression of, “Not the slutty girl!”.

   If you’d like to add “steam from the ears” to that image, laugh in that really patronizing way that indicates you think it’s cute.  Or even better, act annoyed that my display of emotion is delaying the inevitable and ill-deserved blow job you’ll receive from your secretary as soon as I leave.  No, really.  That really gets my blood boiling.  You go right ahead, but you better have Kleenex.

5. The sound of plates and pans clanging together is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me.  I absolutely cannot stand it.  This is one reason why I hate emptying the dishwasher or putting dishes away. I have to do it so gingerly to avoid that clanking sound — I’d rather just not do it at all.  In my new place, I don’t have a dishwasher, so it’s not so bad, but I can’t even imagine working in a professional kitchen.  *shudder*
6. I have exactly 23 exercise DVDs and I think I’ve done 8 of them.  I’m sorry, I just can’t bring myself to Yoga Booty Ballet. I just can’t.
7. I sometimes find myself nostalgic for a Saturday morning show that used to run called the Family Film Festival.  It was broadcast from Los Angeles and we’d watch it on KTLA Channel 5.  I can’t remember the name of the host, but it was this older guy and he’d sit in this room with wood paneling, introducing Popeye cartoons or Pippi Longstocking movies. Sometimes, he’d draw something from a random doodle (which I can’t remember if they were user-submitted or if he just drew the squiggle, too). I couldn’t fathom sitting through a Pippi Longstocking movie today, but I find myself thinking of that show and the host from time to time. I wonder what kind of job you get after that.
8. Sometimes, on a quiet morning, I like to open my front door, let the sun shine on my face and celebrate the moments of my life.  OK, it’s not really as dramatic as all that, bu I have developed a guilty pleasure — General Foods International Coffee in Sugar Free Cafe Vienna.  When I was in England, I drank a lot of instant coffee and there was this one place that I’d swear was serving International Coffee. It was just a little greasy spoon place, but I would put money on it — though, I’m sure it would be called something else.  Anyway, when I got home, I picked some up that I keep on hand for those mornings I just don’t feel like committing to a whole pot of coffee.  It reminds me of my trip and about the great times I had and oh my god, I sound just like the commercial.

There you have it: 8 things about me.  I don’t really believe in tagging specific people to do a meme (when did that start happening, anyway?), so go forth and spread the meme far and wide.  Trackback if you do it so I can make sure read your answers.

Happy Father’s Day

Joelle said during prime time on June 17, 2007

Put Your Hands Together for… PHIL!

Joelle said at some point on June 15, 2007

I was watching So You Think You Can Dance last night and they had a special guest perform — a hip hop (or is it R&B or is it rap? I honestly don’t know anymore) artist named Lloyd.

That’s it — just Lloyd.  Now, in my world, there’s only one Lloyd and that’s Lloyd Dobbler.  A touchstone of my youth, Lloyd Dobbler from Say Anything was every guy I ever wanted to date: quirky, self-deprecating, romantic, yet strangely confident and a little odd.  My kind of guy!

So to hear this guy was going around calling himself Lloyd, like it’s as unique as Madonna or Cher just seems silly.  Of ALL the names to choose, you pick Lloyd? Why not just call yourself Larry or Chuck or Harold?  Was Gary unavailable?  With a name like Lloyd, don’t you think doing something of note would help with the name recognition?

It’s bad enough we’ve got Ludacris and Ginuwine with their horrifically misspelled names and gigantic egos, but now every “I wanna love you down and sex you up” performer with their shirt open thinks that they’re entitled to first-name fame.

Even Lloyd.

Now that I think about it, my accountant is named Lloyd and he can sing a mean commercial jingle, so this guy better not get too comfortable.

Peace, Love and Underhanded

Joelle said around mid-afternoon on June 14, 2007 while listening to Massive Attack - Black Milk

So, I’m cruising our referrals over on the Moxie Design Studios site and I see a link coming from something called the Humanity Center.  I almost didn’t click the link because we often get hits from people who have downloaded one of the free templates we designed offered by ExpressionEngine.  But, unfortunately for the hippie half-wit at the other end of that link, I did. (Next time you rip someone off, you might want to change the links to point to your website, Mensa.) Behold the blatant (not to mention hideous) rip off of my work:

This ticks me off on assorted levels:

• The obvious “hey, that’s my work!” factor
• The fact that it’s a project in which a lot of “back and forth” happened, so the project was fine-tuned to the client’s spec
• They not only stole it, but made it decidedly less attractive
• They’re supposedly humanitarians

This, directly quoted from their website:

There is a growing, spreading consensus about the world we are envisioning:
Interdependence, economic and social justice, peace, democracy and ecological integrity.

Can we be ambassadors of a new world that we envision, a world of shared humanity, understanding, and care? This is an exploration of tangible, practical principles, challenges and proposals for actually creating that world.

I don’t know, can you?  You’re well on your way Bullshit Ambassador, I can tell you that.  Their whole website goes on and on about community and uniting the world and a bunch of other new age malarkey that would be all well and good if they hadn’t just stolen something that clearly didn’t belong to them.  I especially like this gem:

The Conscious Business Alliance is a group of businesses and customers who promote humane ways of selling and buying.

Our goal is to support each other in creating a business climate where doing good is just as important as earning money. We seek to be honest, caring, and thoughtful about all the ways in which doing our business has an effect.

That’s just aces, Skip.  Too bad you’re sketchy and think that shade of green is appealing.

I did some clicking and found another website called Huzanity.org.  I called the number listed at the top, but it’s no longer in service.  I was very interested in having a little chat with Captain Humanitarian.  I’m trying to figure out how to broach it next… I’ll attempt one of the forms or leave a comment or something, since the contact links all still lead back to my client’s website.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but it certainly doesn’t pay the bills.  Bah!

Put Your Junk in that Box

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”.