I have mentioned commercials before that either 1) no longer make any sense or 2) rely completely upon some misplaced fear to cover their incredibly lousy job of communicating why you need their product. Now I have a new one! Presented by the 2009 Lincoln MKS, I give you a commercial sure to insinuate an ominous death in your future!
Watch the commercial here.
The commercial looks like many other car commercials, which special focus on circuits firing and cool engine combustion stuff represented by neon blue flashing lights. Pretty. My problem is that it's set to a lovely cover of Space Oddity by David Bowie. Yes, the song about the astronaut who dies in space because his space shuttle malfunctions. Why, that's JUST the sort of message I want to associate with your vehicle, Lincoln!
Come climb into the new Lincoln. Never mind that uneasy feeling of impending doom. It's probably nothing. Your circuits are probably just fine.
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Friday, October 03, 2008
Blast from the Past
Every now and then, I Google my name (in all of its many combinations) to make sure there is nothing I wouldn't want a potential client to find when checking me out. I recommend you all do the same. Anyway, this time around I started checking the really obscure pages at the back of the Gooooooooogle!, and I found something great: the 5k race results from the first race I ever ran with my best friend Melanie, way back in 1998 when we were 15 years old.
Melanie beat me by nearly 2 minutes and 40 seconds in that race, which doesn't surprise me in the least. In the intervening 10 years, Melanie has become a long-distance racing machine, while I only run when being chased. Or trying to chase away stubborn calories. Stubbornly.
What makes finding this race sheet even better is that I still have a photograph of Melanie and I from that very day, post race. Here it is:
smc and Mel, August 1998
Melanie beat me by nearly 2 minutes and 40 seconds in that race, which doesn't surprise me in the least. In the intervening 10 years, Melanie has become a long-distance racing machine, while I only run when being chased. Or trying to chase away stubborn calories. Stubbornly.
What makes finding this race sheet even better is that I still have a photograph of Melanie and I from that very day, post race. Here it is:
smc and Mel, August 1998
Also in the intervening 10 years, I grew into my head and Mel learned how to open her eyes while smiling. And check out my awesome sparkly blue nail polish! Wolverine Pride! Unfortunately, this nail polish was not aerodynamic, which explains my long lag behind Mel. At least, that's what I tell myself. When I lie to myself.
And speaking of Googling, in honor of its 10 year anniversary, Google has released its oldest search index. Go see what you would have found had you been Googling back in 2001 here.
And speaking of Googling, in honor of its 10 year anniversary, Google has released its oldest search index. Go see what you would have found had you been Googling back in 2001 here.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Men Everywhere Torn Over Which Man to Vote For
By the Diverged Press
Men everywhere are once again finding themselves in quite the pickle this election season, as they are forced to choose between two male candidates for the Presidency. "This never gets easier;" says Ron Davidson of Columbus, Ohio, "I mean, both of the major candidates are men, and I'm a man, so of course I want to support a man, but I just don't know which one to support." Davidson's confusion is shared by men across the country, as the United States prepares for its 56th consecutive election in which two men have represented the top of the Presidential ticket.
"The ladies sure have it easy this year," says Bill Hampton of Rochester, New York. "Obviously, they are all going to vote for Palin- I mean McCain-Palin, because she's a woman. But no has told me who I will be voting for because I'm a man. And that makes things pretty tough." Men have only about six weeks to decide which man they support, leading some men to begin to panic about their options. "There just hasn't been a lot of coverage about the man-vote this year, and the more I watch the debates and speeches, the more confused I become," said Buster James of Los Angeles, California. "Obama and McCain- they're both men, right? So what am I supposed to do?"
Mr. James' wife, Carol James, admits that while she sees her husband's plight, she can't really empathize. "I guess I just haven't had the same problem this year. I mean, Palin '08. Obviously." Every single other woman in the Nation has had the same reaction. "Palin has my vote," declared Hillary Clinton of New York. "Why wouldn't she? We're both women."
Men everywhere are once again finding themselves in quite the pickle this election season, as they are forced to choose between two male candidates for the Presidency. "This never gets easier;" says Ron Davidson of Columbus, Ohio, "I mean, both of the major candidates are men, and I'm a man, so of course I want to support a man, but I just don't know which one to support." Davidson's confusion is shared by men across the country, as the United States prepares for its 56th consecutive election in which two men have represented the top of the Presidential ticket.
"The ladies sure have it easy this year," says Bill Hampton of Rochester, New York. "Obviously, they are all going to vote for Palin- I mean McCain-Palin, because she's a woman. But no has told me who I will be voting for because I'm a man. And that makes things pretty tough." Men have only about six weeks to decide which man they support, leading some men to begin to panic about their options. "There just hasn't been a lot of coverage about the man-vote this year, and the more I watch the debates and speeches, the more confused I become," said Buster James of Los Angeles, California. "Obama and McCain- they're both men, right? So what am I supposed to do?"
Mr. James' wife, Carol James, admits that while she sees her husband's plight, she can't really empathize. "I guess I just haven't had the same problem this year. I mean, Palin '08. Obviously." Every single other woman in the Nation has had the same reaction. "Palin has my vote," declared Hillary Clinton of New York. "Why wouldn't she? We're both women."
Monday, August 25, 2008
My kind of place
Yesterday, I got out of the new apartment to walk around the streets of Chicago and familiarize myself a little better with the neighborhood. As I was walking down one particular street known for its shopping, I happened across a new store that had just opened that week- and in the window was a beautiful chess set. Since I collect beautiful chess sets, I wandered in and browsed about.
Later, at home:
Me: Patto, there is a new store at Water Tower Place that sells chess sets and handbags.
Patto: Wait- a store that sells nothing but handbags and chess sets?
Me: Yes, that's all they sell. Italian-made handbags and Italian-made chess sets.
Patto: So when you walk in, all you see are purses and chess boards?
Me: Yes.
Patto: Did YOU open this store?
It's a good guess, but no. I did talk to the owner for a while, though, and she seems pretty awesome- just the sort of person who is interested in nothing but handbags and chess sets. I think we could be friends.
I will have to circle this store a few more times and have a paycheck before I purchase anything, but I have already noticed one particular set that might find a place in my home. At least it's something to keep me out of shoe stores for a while. :)
Later, at home:
Me: Patto, there is a new store at Water Tower Place that sells chess sets and handbags.
Patto: Wait- a store that sells nothing but handbags and chess sets?
Me: Yes, that's all they sell. Italian-made handbags and Italian-made chess sets.
Patto: So when you walk in, all you see are purses and chess boards?
Me: Yes.
Patto: Did YOU open this store?
It's a good guess, but no. I did talk to the owner for a while, though, and she seems pretty awesome- just the sort of person who is interested in nothing but handbags and chess sets. I think we could be friends.
I will have to circle this store a few more times and have a paycheck before I purchase anything, but I have already noticed one particular set that might find a place in my home. At least it's something to keep me out of shoe stores for a while. :)
Friday, July 25, 2008
Lil'Mama Shocked to Discover American Youth Not Making Rational Decisions
So I'm a closeted (well, not anymore) fan of America's Best Dance Crew. To be honest, I mostly mute the commentators and only watch when one of the teams are actually performing, but I'm constantly impressed at the talent and cool choreo these people come up with, week after week.
Anyway, it's basically American Idol for the slightly cooler, street-wise dance set. It's targeted at teens and has heavy emphasis on who has and has not "come hard" this week. After the show, America votes via text message for their favorite crew, and the two teams receiving the fewest votes are up for elimination, with the panel of three judges making the final call on the next week's show.
Last night, two objectively good teams were up for elimination, and the judges were shocked (SHOCKED!) that it had come to this. "America, are you serious?" chastised Lil'Mama, before adding, "Ya'll need to think about what you're doing with your voting." The other judges agreed, American Youth had failed to make a rational decision via their text messages this week, and now two very talented crews were suffering for it.
I say we're lucky that the outcome of America's Next Dance Crew was the only thing in jeopardy due to the unpredictable nature of teenagers. American teenagers make silly decisions regarding the outcome of reality television because they are teenagers. It's why we don't let them vote.
Because, you know, Adult Americans are known for their rationality and ability to take an objective stance when voting on matters of National importance. I guess something just happens at 18.
Anyway, it's basically American Idol for the slightly cooler, street-wise dance set. It's targeted at teens and has heavy emphasis on who has and has not "come hard" this week. After the show, America votes via text message for their favorite crew, and the two teams receiving the fewest votes are up for elimination, with the panel of three judges making the final call on the next week's show.
Last night, two objectively good teams were up for elimination, and the judges were shocked (SHOCKED!) that it had come to this. "America, are you serious?" chastised Lil'Mama, before adding, "Ya'll need to think about what you're doing with your voting." The other judges agreed, American Youth had failed to make a rational decision via their text messages this week, and now two very talented crews were suffering for it.
I say we're lucky that the outcome of America's Next Dance Crew was the only thing in jeopardy due to the unpredictable nature of teenagers. American teenagers make silly decisions regarding the outcome of reality television because they are teenagers. It's why we don't let them vote.
Because, you know, Adult Americans are known for their rationality and ability to take an objective stance when voting on matters of National importance. I guess something just happens at 18.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
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Sunday, July 20, 2008
Sabatoge
This is Tobey. Laying on my study materials and refusing to move. She also chases my pen and unplugs my laptop when I don't pay her enough attention.
See the quality of support I am getting from home during the Bar process?
See the quality of support I am getting from home during the Bar process?
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Oh, American Gladiators- Nooooo!
I love American Gladiators.
I loved the old version, I love the new version. I'll love the future version, if ever there is one.
I love it love it love it.
I love AG for many reasons, but one of them is because they appeal to my feminist sensibilities. The women's competition is never secondary to the men's competition (I'm looking at you, ESPN). They don't have "Gladiators" and "Female Gladiators," as if default Gladiators are male, and the females are somehow a sub-category that requires modification (I'm looking at you, every sports team in the country that has the "Tigers" and the "Lady Tigers" or the like). The female gladiators are not dressed more sexily than the male gladiators. The female contenders are not given different or easier obstacles than the male contenders. It's good, get-out-there-and-compete entertainment, and I love it.
In addition to male and female, AG has black Gladiators and white Gladiators and asian Gladiators and a Samoan Gladiator, and they are all equally feared and indistinguishably named (Justice, Jet, Titan, Crush, Steel, Rocket, Militia, etc.- who's female? who's black? who cares!)
Yes, it was all well and good in my bubble of AG love, until Panther.
Panther is the first black female Gladiator. And her name is Panther. And I was forced to shake my fist and cry "noooooooooo!," because AG had just played into one of the classic stereotypes of black women, which is to animalize them. Since the dawn of stereotyping, black women have consistently been portrayed as animalistic, particularly as belonging to the cat-family. This is true even today in general interest magazines, despite the attention that has been drawn to it by a multitude of advertising analysts. If females are often regulated to a modified, "other" form of person (besides the default position: male), black females are regulated even further to a non-human category.
Why, AG, WHY?! You were doing so well. Even Patrick sat upright as soon as they introduced Panther and said "wait a minute, Panther? As in, she's black so she's probably an animal Panther?" 100 for Patrick, who remembers the lecture on pornography and its influence on mainstream advertising we attended last year as part of my 3L thesis research.
At the end of the day, I still love American Gladiators. They do so many things right. But I hate to see them slip backwards, even a little. Black women aren't animals. As soon as the Bar is over, I am going to write a pleasantly-worded letter to the producers of AG, letting them know that their latest choice in naming was not a wise one, and hoping that we see more, non-animalistic black female gladiators in the future.
I loved the old version, I love the new version. I'll love the future version, if ever there is one.
I love it love it love it.
I love AG for many reasons, but one of them is because they appeal to my feminist sensibilities. The women's competition is never secondary to the men's competition (I'm looking at you, ESPN). They don't have "Gladiators" and "Female Gladiators," as if default Gladiators are male, and the females are somehow a sub-category that requires modification (I'm looking at you, every sports team in the country that has the "Tigers" and the "Lady Tigers" or the like). The female gladiators are not dressed more sexily than the male gladiators. The female contenders are not given different or easier obstacles than the male contenders. It's good, get-out-there-and-compete entertainment, and I love it.
In addition to male and female, AG has black Gladiators and white Gladiators and asian Gladiators and a Samoan Gladiator, and they are all equally feared and indistinguishably named (Justice, Jet, Titan, Crush, Steel, Rocket, Militia, etc.- who's female? who's black? who cares!)
Yes, it was all well and good in my bubble of AG love, until Panther.
Panther is the first black female Gladiator. And her name is Panther. And I was forced to shake my fist and cry "noooooooooo!," because AG had just played into one of the classic stereotypes of black women, which is to animalize them. Since the dawn of stereotyping, black women have consistently been portrayed as animalistic, particularly as belonging to the cat-family. This is true even today in general interest magazines, despite the attention that has been drawn to it by a multitude of advertising analysts. If females are often regulated to a modified, "other" form of person (besides the default position: male), black females are regulated even further to a non-human category.
Why, AG, WHY?! You were doing so well. Even Patrick sat upright as soon as they introduced Panther and said "wait a minute, Panther? As in, she's black so she's probably an animal Panther?" 100 for Patrick, who remembers the lecture on pornography and its influence on mainstream advertising we attended last year as part of my 3L thesis research.
At the end of the day, I still love American Gladiators. They do so many things right. But I hate to see them slip backwards, even a little. Black women aren't animals. As soon as the Bar is over, I am going to write a pleasantly-worded letter to the producers of AG, letting them know that their latest choice in naming was not a wise one, and hoping that we see more, non-animalistic black female gladiators in the future.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
The Evolution of Caesar
Caesar turned 2 years old in May, and in honor of his (belated) birthday, I thought I would do a short photo montage of Caesar in his element: taking up Patto's lap.
I give you my little kitten, all grown up.
September 2006, 4 months old.
Feb 2007, 9 months old
April 2007, almost 1 year old
December 2007, 1.5 years
He hasn't changed much in the last 7 months, but as you can see, he is a far cry from the tiny kitten he was just 2 short years ago. But even though he can no longer fit in my hand, he'll always have ample room in my heart. (Awwwwwwwww!)
Happy Belated Birthday, Cees!
I give you my little kitten, all grown up.
September 2006, 4 months old.
Feb 2007, 9 months old
April 2007, almost 1 year old
December 2007, 1.5 years
He hasn't changed much in the last 7 months, but as you can see, he is a far cry from the tiny kitten he was just 2 short years ago. But even though he can no longer fit in my hand, he'll always have ample room in my heart. (Awwwwwwwww!)
Happy Belated Birthday, Cees!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Bar Art
Ken and Tina over at Begging the Question have been publishing their Bar Art for the past few days. What is Bar Art, you ask? It's the result of an odd compulsion to draw out legal theories, usually in stick-man form, in order to vent your feelings of insanity during the Bar studying period.
I have been drawing in my lecture notebook from day one, and now I shall join Ken and Tina and publish my very own masterpiece.
I have been drawing in my lecture notebook from day one, and now I shall join Ken and Tina and publish my very own masterpiece.
"Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress"
smc, July 2008
To quote my Bar lecturer, "Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress is a tort characterized by extreme or outrageous behavior. What is extreme or outrageous behavior? According to the Restatement, it is behavior so extreme as to make the average, reasonable person exclaim, 'OUTRAGEOUS!'"
Which is an awesome definition in itself.
Now, normally being called a name is not enough to rise to the level of extreme or outrageous conduct. However, for some reason, the law takes insults from common carriers (buses and such) and innkeepers (or hotel folk) very seriously. Apparently, some lawmaker was bullied as a child by future common carriers and innkeepers, and vowed to one day get his revenge. He made good on that threat, too, because the law loves to hate on these people.
Therefore, a single insult by a common carrier or innkeeper to a passenger/patron is enough to rise to the level of extreme and outrageous behavior, and is Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress on our Plaintiff. Poor, poor Plaintiff.
Sue their little bellhop hats off.
smc, July 2008
To quote my Bar lecturer, "Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress is a tort characterized by extreme or outrageous behavior. What is extreme or outrageous behavior? According to the Restatement, it is behavior so extreme as to make the average, reasonable person exclaim, 'OUTRAGEOUS!'"
Which is an awesome definition in itself.
Now, normally being called a name is not enough to rise to the level of extreme or outrageous conduct. However, for some reason, the law takes insults from common carriers (buses and such) and innkeepers (or hotel folk) very seriously. Apparently, some lawmaker was bullied as a child by future common carriers and innkeepers, and vowed to one day get his revenge. He made good on that threat, too, because the law loves to hate on these people.
Therefore, a single insult by a common carrier or innkeeper to a passenger/patron is enough to rise to the level of extreme and outrageous behavior, and is Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress on our Plaintiff. Poor, poor Plaintiff.
Sue their little bellhop hats off.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Best! Shape! Ever! Update- week 4
It's the beginning of week 4, and not too much has changed, especially since I spent most of last week in Florida and missed 3 work-outs. I'm 146 lbs, and am still 32.5" around the largest part of the tums. But I am seeing some exciting changes in other places. My arms are looking much more toned than they did before, and, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time since high school, I ran three miles.
Well, I jogged three miles at like an 11 min mile pace, but the point is I was able to run three miles without dying. Or walking. Which I haven't been able to do in 7 years. My goal over the next 8 weeks is to get my 3 mile down to 8 minute miles and my 6 mile down to 10 minute miles.
It's fun to see results. It keeps me motivated. By the way, Patto has already taken three inches off of the widest part of his waist. So we are both pumped up and encouraged to keep going, even though there are nights where we can't lift our forks to our mouth at dinner.
I guess that keeps us from going in for dessert.
Well, I jogged three miles at like an 11 min mile pace, but the point is I was able to run three miles without dying. Or walking. Which I haven't been able to do in 7 years. My goal over the next 8 weeks is to get my 3 mile down to 8 minute miles and my 6 mile down to 10 minute miles.
It's fun to see results. It keeps me motivated. By the way, Patto has already taken three inches off of the widest part of his waist. So we are both pumped up and encouraged to keep going, even though there are nights where we can't lift our forks to our mouth at dinner.
I guess that keeps us from going in for dessert.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Va-cay!
Greetings from Tampa!
I have taken a few days off to spend a little time with my gal Mel in Tampa. Don't worry, mom, my bar materials came with me. I got up nice and early this morning and have already put in a solid 2 hours of work.
Me Being Productive. I'm not as happy about it as I look.
It's a little cloudy in Tampa this morning, but hopefully it will clear out into a beautiful, beach-going kind of day. Until then, I sit on the balcony and stare down the Parol Evidence Rule. Sigh.
Still, a vacation is a vacation, and I need one. So I'm off. Enjoy the week.
I have taken a few days off to spend a little time with my gal Mel in Tampa. Don't worry, mom, my bar materials came with me. I got up nice and early this morning and have already put in a solid 2 hours of work.
Me Being Productive. I'm not as happy about it as I look.
It's a little cloudy in Tampa this morning, but hopefully it will clear out into a beautiful, beach-going kind of day. Until then, I sit on the balcony and stare down the Parol Evidence Rule. Sigh.
Still, a vacation is a vacation, and I need one. So I'm off. Enjoy the week.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Best! Shape! Ever!
Yesterday began week three of my attempting to get into the best shape ever; or as I call it to motivate myself away from the chips and toward the carrot sticks, the Best! Shape! Ever!! The extra pep doesn't actually do anything, but given my usual lack of exclamation marks, it seems sad to waste them on a chip-eating kind of day. So I like to tell myself they work, even if they annoy me most of the time.
Anyway. Patto and I are on a tough diet and exercise regimen to become super sexy buffsters. When I say diet, though, I don't mean the type where you don't eat anything. I mean the type where you consume 2,500 calories a day, most of them protein, in order to survive the grueling weight-lifting routine you do 4 days a week. Some days I dread the next meal. Some days I wolf down my little mid-morning turkey sandwich snack like I haven't eaten in days. It all depends on whether my body remembers that I have to lift until my arms fall off that evening or not. For having completed two weeks of this plan already, the body is yet to be consistent. Patto tells me it takes 21 days to form a habit, however, so perhaps the bod will get it together soon (side note: WHO decides it takes 21 days to form (or break) a habit? How do you measure this stuff?)
Anyway, the program we are doing is 12 weeks long. It will take me a little longer than 12 weeks to complete, however, since I am going to spend 5 days in Tampa and 4 days in Chicago over the summer, and won't be able to work out the way we have been during those times. So in about 14 total weeks, expect me to be 150 lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal. Rarr!
To motivate us, Patto and I took those classic "before" pics, where we stuck out our tummies as far as they would go and stood in a frumpy position looking slightly dissatisfied with ourselves, hair pulled back and no make-up, of course, so that at the end of the program we can go get Glamour Shots and compare the results. Seems fair. I would put the pic up, but who wants a before pic floating around on the internet? You'll have to wait for the after.
To keep you abreast of the results (and to keep me motivated to work hard), I'll post my weekly stats.
It all started on Sunday, June 15. I weighed 144 lbs, and the widest part of my tummy (not my waist- under it where those lowest two abs are supposed to be) was 33". To give you some frame of reference, I'm 5'7" and pretty athletically built, besides, again, where those abs are supposed to be. Not fat by any stretch of anyone's imagination (besides, perhaps, those tiny Korean girls db mentions over at Rage in the A.M.), but not as fit as I would like to be.
On Sunday, June 22, I weighed 146 lbs, and the tummy still measured 33".
Yesterday, Sunday, June 29, I weighed 145 lbs, and the tummy was 32.5". Half an inch gone! Yay!
And that's where we are now. I don't really have a weight goal- I just want to be in super fit shape. Based on my frame and where I am now, I am guessing I'll hit around 150. What I really want is to be able to kick ass and take names, and whittle that middle down a few inches. Whatever number that happens at is good with me.
So good luck to those of you out there who are working to get in better shape, too. Use your 21 habit-forming days for good. Patto assures you it will work.
Anyway. Patto and I are on a tough diet and exercise regimen to become super sexy buffsters. When I say diet, though, I don't mean the type where you don't eat anything. I mean the type where you consume 2,500 calories a day, most of them protein, in order to survive the grueling weight-lifting routine you do 4 days a week. Some days I dread the next meal. Some days I wolf down my little mid-morning turkey sandwich snack like I haven't eaten in days. It all depends on whether my body remembers that I have to lift until my arms fall off that evening or not. For having completed two weeks of this plan already, the body is yet to be consistent. Patto tells me it takes 21 days to form a habit, however, so perhaps the bod will get it together soon (side note: WHO decides it takes 21 days to form (or break) a habit? How do you measure this stuff?)
Anyway, the program we are doing is 12 weeks long. It will take me a little longer than 12 weeks to complete, however, since I am going to spend 5 days in Tampa and 4 days in Chicago over the summer, and won't be able to work out the way we have been during those times. So in about 14 total weeks, expect me to be 150 lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal. Rarr!
To motivate us, Patto and I took those classic "before" pics, where we stuck out our tummies as far as they would go and stood in a frumpy position looking slightly dissatisfied with ourselves, hair pulled back and no make-up, of course, so that at the end of the program we can go get Glamour Shots and compare the results. Seems fair. I would put the pic up, but who wants a before pic floating around on the internet? You'll have to wait for the after.
To keep you abreast of the results (and to keep me motivated to work hard), I'll post my weekly stats.
It all started on Sunday, June 15. I weighed 144 lbs, and the widest part of my tummy (not my waist- under it where those lowest two abs are supposed to be) was 33". To give you some frame of reference, I'm 5'7" and pretty athletically built, besides, again, where those abs are supposed to be. Not fat by any stretch of anyone's imagination (besides, perhaps, those tiny Korean girls db mentions over at Rage in the A.M.), but not as fit as I would like to be.
On Sunday, June 22, I weighed 146 lbs, and the tummy still measured 33".
Yesterday, Sunday, June 29, I weighed 145 lbs, and the tummy was 32.5". Half an inch gone! Yay!
And that's where we are now. I don't really have a weight goal- I just want to be in super fit shape. Based on my frame and where I am now, I am guessing I'll hit around 150. What I really want is to be able to kick ass and take names, and whittle that middle down a few inches. Whatever number that happens at is good with me.
So good luck to those of you out there who are working to get in better shape, too. Use your 21 habit-forming days for good. Patto assures you it will work.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Target Women: Yogurt!
In honor of my sister's poll on yogurt brand loyalty over at Quirky, I give you Target Women: Yogurt edition. If you're a woman, put down that spoon and watch!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
For Konrad
I haven't posted in a while, for which I apologize to any loyal readers. Between Graduation, beginning to study for the Bar, and trying to get in better shape, I haven't had a lot of down time. And to be honest, when I did have down time (or made down time because I had quit studying), I felt guilty to be blogging when I should be doing something else. So I watched design shows on HGTV instead.
But recently, I received some bad news about a good friend. On Wednesday, I learned that Konrad Whitt, with whom I attended the University of Tennessee and dated for a short time, died in a hit and run accident in St. Louis, MO, where he had just finished grad school. It was very sudden, and very tragic, and has been very painful for me. Konrad and I still kept in touch, and the last time I spoke to him I mentioned that we were moving to Chicago in a few months, and since St. Louis wasn't that far away, I hoped we could get together some time.
This post is about Konrad, and my memories of him.
Konrad was an RA in Hess Hall, the building I lived in as a freshman at UT. I became a DA in the building, and we would hang out behind the front desk, cutting up and answering the phones. Konrad was endlessly loyal to his friends, even the new ones, like me. The fall of my freshman year, a friend of mine visited me from out of town. Since I lived on a floor with limited visitation, Konrad put him up in an empty room on his floor for the weekend. I didn't even have to ask.
Konrad had one of the most expressive faces I've ever seen on a man. He could tell an entire story with just his eyebrows, with the occasional help of the cock of his head. He was endlessly witty. He also had sharp knees and elbows, which he was not afraid to use in pickup basketball games or in co-opting your place in line. He used to brandish them playfully, as if they were weapons. Trust me, they were.
He drove a red Saturn which he joked was indestructible, thanks to its "high-tech" plexiglass frame. He gave great back massages. He liked the Steve Miller Band and old Tom Petty classics. He once refused to write a major paper for a Psychology class because the Professor had done something to anger him. I'm not sure which one eventually caved, but I know he graduated.
Konrad and I dated in the spring and summer of my freshman year, and when he broke it off at the end of the summer, I was crushed. Thankfully, we bounced right back as friends, and I ultimately knew it was the right decision. Two years later, Konrad and I were joking around one night on IM (he had graduated and moved to Alabama by this time). As I was telling him I needed to go because I had a date, he volunteered that he wouldn't mind picking me up for a date sometime. When I reminded him that he had already done that, he said yes, but that he had been stupid about it the first time, and had learned a lesson. I told him that if things with this Patrick guy didn't work out, he was welcome to move back to Tennessee and have another shot.
Before I wrap this up, one memory of Konrad sticks out particularly in my mind. My sophomore year, when I was an RA in a different building and Konrad had moved off-campus, I was over at his apartment one evening when I was told that a resident of my building had just rather publicly committed suicide in the courtyard. I remember Konrad calmly driving me back to campus, dropping me off into the chaos of flashing lights and terrified residents, and firmly asking if there was anything I needed before he left. At the time, I thought he was being somewhat cold, but I later realized that by his being calm and matter-of-fact, I became calm and matter-of-fact, and was able to organize the madness without giving in to it myself. It was just what I needed at the time, which was his style.
Rest in peace, Konrad, "Gordo." You were a good friend to me and many others. We will miss you.
But recently, I received some bad news about a good friend. On Wednesday, I learned that Konrad Whitt, with whom I attended the University of Tennessee and dated for a short time, died in a hit and run accident in St. Louis, MO, where he had just finished grad school. It was very sudden, and very tragic, and has been very painful for me. Konrad and I still kept in touch, and the last time I spoke to him I mentioned that we were moving to Chicago in a few months, and since St. Louis wasn't that far away, I hoped we could get together some time.
This post is about Konrad, and my memories of him.
Konrad was an RA in Hess Hall, the building I lived in as a freshman at UT. I became a DA in the building, and we would hang out behind the front desk, cutting up and answering the phones. Konrad was endlessly loyal to his friends, even the new ones, like me. The fall of my freshman year, a friend of mine visited me from out of town. Since I lived on a floor with limited visitation, Konrad put him up in an empty room on his floor for the weekend. I didn't even have to ask.
Konrad had one of the most expressive faces I've ever seen on a man. He could tell an entire story with just his eyebrows, with the occasional help of the cock of his head. He was endlessly witty. He also had sharp knees and elbows, which he was not afraid to use in pickup basketball games or in co-opting your place in line. He used to brandish them playfully, as if they were weapons. Trust me, they were.
He drove a red Saturn which he joked was indestructible, thanks to its "high-tech" plexiglass frame. He gave great back massages. He liked the Steve Miller Band and old Tom Petty classics. He once refused to write a major paper for a Psychology class because the Professor had done something to anger him. I'm not sure which one eventually caved, but I know he graduated.
Konrad and I dated in the spring and summer of my freshman year, and when he broke it off at the end of the summer, I was crushed. Thankfully, we bounced right back as friends, and I ultimately knew it was the right decision. Two years later, Konrad and I were joking around one night on IM (he had graduated and moved to Alabama by this time). As I was telling him I needed to go because I had a date, he volunteered that he wouldn't mind picking me up for a date sometime. When I reminded him that he had already done that, he said yes, but that he had been stupid about it the first time, and had learned a lesson. I told him that if things with this Patrick guy didn't work out, he was welcome to move back to Tennessee and have another shot.
Before I wrap this up, one memory of Konrad sticks out particularly in my mind. My sophomore year, when I was an RA in a different building and Konrad had moved off-campus, I was over at his apartment one evening when I was told that a resident of my building had just rather publicly committed suicide in the courtyard. I remember Konrad calmly driving me back to campus, dropping me off into the chaos of flashing lights and terrified residents, and firmly asking if there was anything I needed before he left. At the time, I thought he was being somewhat cold, but I later realized that by his being calm and matter-of-fact, I became calm and matter-of-fact, and was able to organize the madness without giving in to it myself. It was just what I needed at the time, which was his style.
Rest in peace, Konrad, "Gordo." You were a good friend to me and many others. We will miss you.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Graduete!
I know you haven't heard from me in a bit, but that's because I've been busy graduating from law school. See over there? On the right side, where my profile is? It no longer says "a 3L at Harvard law." Being an alum feels good.
But before I can ride off into the Chicago sunset and begin my career at Mobius, I have to study for and pass the Bar exam. So I am spending my summer studying between 4 and 8 hours a day for the exam, which is at the end of July.
I'll get pictures from graduation on here soon, and try to get back into the swing of posting regularly. Pinkie swear.
But before I can ride off into the Chicago sunset and begin my career at Mobius, I have to study for and pass the Bar exam. So I am spending my summer studying between 4 and 8 hours a day for the exam, which is at the end of July.
I'll get pictures from graduation on here soon, and try to get back into the swing of posting regularly. Pinkie swear.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
How many pint-sized pugilists could YOU take on?
26
Ha! My sister could only take 18 5-year olds in a fight, but that is probably because 1) I have more martial arts training than she does, and 2) I am highly skilled at rolling one five-year old at ten other ones, bowling style. Strike!
Ok, I have no experience rolling children like sports equipment. But I do think I could take a fair number of 'em. I had to take out 6 college-aged men at the same time for my black belt test, so if each college guy with a couple years of martial arts is worth 4-5 kindergarteners, I'm right on track.
How many can you take?
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Ha! My sister could only take 18 5-year olds in a fight, but that is probably because 1) I have more martial arts training than she does, and 2) I am highly skilled at rolling one five-year old at ten other ones, bowling style. Strike!
Ok, I have no experience rolling children like sports equipment. But I do think I could take a fair number of 'em. I had to take out 6 college-aged men at the same time for my black belt test, so if each college guy with a couple years of martial arts is worth 4-5 kindergarteners, I'm right on track.
How many can you take?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
WHY do I need this product?
We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl. Especially when it comes to accessories and hair products. Show me a model with beautiful hair, and I'll show you $7.99 for that conditioner.
So I appreciate good marketing and clever commercials. They are trying to sell me something, and I will play along because, ultimately, I want to buy it. But I have no patience for stupid commercials. Because of your dumb presentation, I will not buy your product out of spite. Or I will snidely comment, "Well, SOME marketing director just lost his job" as your spot fades from my TV.
All that being said, I will not be buying Lysol Deep Reach Toilet Bowl Cleaner. Have you seen its commercial? It has all the standard Lysol bits about how it kills 99% of germs, but instead of focusing on surface germs that could kill your entire family by mere eye-contact, the Deep Reach talks about the germs that lurk deep in your toilet, past the point where you could ever reach with a brush. Deep Reach kills these germs, even as far back as the s-bend.
Cool.
But my problem is, if you cannot reach these germs, even with a brush, then why the #$*^@ do you need to kill them?! Little Tommy cannot reach his hand back to the s-bend. So who cares whether there are germs back there? There are germs under your floorboards, too. Rip up the floors! Disinfect them! No, you cannot possibly be infected by them, but if they're there they must be destroyed! Introducing Lysol UnderFloor Extreme Cleaner! Cleans where even your contractor could not reach! Look for Lysol Behind-the-Drywall Cleaner, coming this summer!
Come on, people. I'm like shooting fish in the barrel. But before I'll help you make a buck off of me, your commercial is going to have to make sense.
So I appreciate good marketing and clever commercials. They are trying to sell me something, and I will play along because, ultimately, I want to buy it. But I have no patience for stupid commercials. Because of your dumb presentation, I will not buy your product out of spite. Or I will snidely comment, "Well, SOME marketing director just lost his job" as your spot fades from my TV.
All that being said, I will not be buying Lysol Deep Reach Toilet Bowl Cleaner. Have you seen its commercial? It has all the standard Lysol bits about how it kills 99% of germs, but instead of focusing on surface germs that could kill your entire family by mere eye-contact, the Deep Reach talks about the germs that lurk deep in your toilet, past the point where you could ever reach with a brush. Deep Reach kills these germs, even as far back as the s-bend.
Cool.
But my problem is, if you cannot reach these germs, even with a brush, then why the #$*^@ do you need to kill them?! Little Tommy cannot reach his hand back to the s-bend. So who cares whether there are germs back there? There are germs under your floorboards, too. Rip up the floors! Disinfect them! No, you cannot possibly be infected by them, but if they're there they must be destroyed! Introducing Lysol UnderFloor Extreme Cleaner! Cleans where even your contractor could not reach! Look for Lysol Behind-the-Drywall Cleaner, coming this summer!
Come on, people. I'm like shooting fish in the barrel. But before I'll help you make a buck off of me, your commercial is going to have to make sense.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Darn Cold
Well, bloggy friends, I am under the weather.
I have developed a cold, and a mighty one at that. I blow my nose about every 8 seconds, and sniffle 15 times in between each blow. I am powered by Tylenol Severe Cold and Head Congestion, which keeps me functioning in 4-hour stints. Last night I dreamed that I was going out with friends, so I tucked an entire roll of toilet paper in my purse for the evening. I kept checking on it to make sure I had enough. Bet I was the life of the party.
At least I am finished with school and haven't started Bar Review yet, so I don't have to be functioning at top level. I can lay on the couch like I have for the past two days and moan. Or make up songs. Right now I am singing:
Oh, I'm a crappy feeling Stephy,
Crappy feeling, yes I am...
I've had the Yankee Doodle song stuck in my head thanks to peanutbutterburrito, who sings her variation of the song to her 4 month-old at changing time. At least I can be sick with a catchy theme song.
So feel free to send your sympathies my way. By the way, I'm going to have to leave the house today for more cold medicine and tissues- so if you live in Cambridge, watch out for a stuffy-headed mess barreling your way. You can't keep your eyes open and sneeze at the same time, even while driving.
I have developed a cold, and a mighty one at that. I blow my nose about every 8 seconds, and sniffle 15 times in between each blow. I am powered by Tylenol Severe Cold and Head Congestion, which keeps me functioning in 4-hour stints. Last night I dreamed that I was going out with friends, so I tucked an entire roll of toilet paper in my purse for the evening. I kept checking on it to make sure I had enough. Bet I was the life of the party.
At least I am finished with school and haven't started Bar Review yet, so I don't have to be functioning at top level. I can lay on the couch like I have for the past two days and moan. Or make up songs. Right now I am singing:
Oh, I'm a crappy feeling Stephy,
Crappy feeling, yes I am...
I've had the Yankee Doodle song stuck in my head thanks to peanutbutterburrito, who sings her variation of the song to her 4 month-old at changing time. At least I can be sick with a catchy theme song.
So feel free to send your sympathies my way. By the way, I'm going to have to leave the house today for more cold medicine and tissues- so if you live in Cambridge, watch out for a stuffy-headed mess barreling your way. You can't keep your eyes open and sneeze at the same time, even while driving.
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