Where The Boys Are

Today I worked at a pharmacy meeting in Orlando. I turned to my married co-worker and said, "I don't think I've ever seen so many uncute guys in one place." We laughed as we took it all in. She met her husband when she was in the army. It made me think I have it all wrong. What's that saying--fish where there's fish (or maybe I just made that up...there is some fishing cliche). Let's just say that pharmacists meeting was a party. I would have left in 10 minutes. One of the directors came up to me that I've known for years. He smiled and said, "You look great--you've lost weight!"  Yes, I have lost weight but all I heard was, "Oh my God, you were fat last time we met..." I thanked him and commented on the new mustache he had grown. I thought to myself that there needed to be bad 70's music playing in the background because he looked like something straight out of a 70's porn flick. 

I've been doing this all wrong. Since I've been back "out there" I have dated (and I use that term loosely) 2 navy guys, 1 army guy (paratrooper--jumped out of planes. That is hot),and a computer geek. WTH? I like smart, artsy boys. Come to think of it I was married to an ex football coach. Ew! I fucking hate football. 

I am going to change fishing holes.

Bye, I Love You

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to one of my guy friends. I've worked with him at my 2 last jobs. We were catching up--he was telling me about the vacation he just took with his wife and kids, I made him laugh with my dating stories. As we said our goodbyes he said, "Bye, I love you." I laughed as I hung up. I knew exactly what he had done. He did that "I love you" at the end of a call because he's been doing it for 20+ years. He called me back and told me how embarrassed he was. I told him not to worry. I relayed a more frightening story back to him. I was spending the night with a guy that was not an I love you situation. As I started to drift to sleep I remember talking. The next morning I woke up in horror thinking I may have babbled some love shit out of routine. I asked the guy if I said anything and he said no. He also looked at me like I was a freak. It makes me think about all the "Love you, Bye" going on. I've heard friends do it, co-workers do it...I've done it. Do we really think about the words we are saying? It reminds me of the son of a guy Sulie dated years ago. The first time she met Trey (he was 4) was over the phone. When he ended the call he said, "I love you." He also told my sister he loved her in person and he told me he loved me the first time he met me. I wonder when we learn what those words really mean. To Trey it was a way to say good-bye. As he got to know Sulie through the years I know he truly loved her, but that first "I love you" = "Night, talk to you later."

Reminds me of a topic for a future post...Saying "I love you" for the first time.

Passion and Perceptions

Do what you love. Find your passion. How many times have I heard that? How many of us really do that? I can't tell you how many of my friends have called me and talked about wanting to make a career change (ironically most of my friends are in sales or medicine). I have really been struggling with not loving what I do. It's not the company--it's the people I interact with on a day to day basis. I deal with lots of negativity. My customers are burned out and overworked. I know these people are not following their passion. I often daydream of telling one of them to fuck off. You'll know it is me if you see a news clip on CNN of a woman in a dress with cute shoes pummeling a hospital pharmacist...

How great is it to be able to do something you love and make a living? What do I love to do? Write this blog. Volunteer time for The American Cancer Society. Read books. Get drunk with my sissie and niece while staying in a nice hotel that we got at a bargain on Priceline® and make up songs about crazy family members and video tape the results. That sentence structure just sucked and I am aware...

Yesterday I met with a clinical director at one of the hospitals I cover. Somehow we started to talk about all the different things we have done in our nursing careers (she one was of the rare kind customers I've seen lately). The conversation lead to following your passion. She and her husband love to read. They poured their life savings into opening a bookstore that specializes in first editions and signed books. It is in a small beach community on the west coast of Florida. How cool is that? She was lovely. I wonder how many people meet me and think "Ugh, here's another sales rep..." I know I do it about them--thoughts like, "Ugh, another pompous ass..." Meeting her made me think about it differently. Tomorrow I have an appointment with yet another director of a busy hospital pharmacy. I'm going to adjust my preconceived notions about him before we meet. He may be very interesting, a great family man, a funny guy. If not I will make his ass into a cartoon.  I'll report back...

Chihuahuas Gone Wild

Right after I got Daisy the Dog of the Century, I joined a dog meet up group. Lots of big cities have meet ups. http://www.meetup.com/ They have anything you can dream of--let's say you did scrap booking, or you are all about guns, or you practice witchcraft...your comrades are out there. They have normal things too...

Daisy is only part Chihuahua, but they let me joinn since she is so little. Today I received this email from the Chihuahua Meet Up Group of Tampa Bay. I am proud to say Daisy and I were not part of the debauchery:

Dear All,

I find myself in a situation that I must address with the group.  We have had recent events that have taken place, in which did not show our group in the best of light or with the respect and pride that we hold high.

Please remember that when visiting a restaurant (or any other location) that your dog is YOUR responsibility and must be under your control at all times.

If you use an retrachable leash, you should keep it short especially while at a table or around others in a close area.  These leashes are sharp and can wrap around another dogs' leg or neck, and become tight when pulled on.  Some of our pups are still working on social skills and are sometimes scared from an approaching dog.  Do not leave it up to the other person to warn off your dog, please be there to assist with the socialization of the two engaging pups.   Dog parks are different than being at a restaurant or shop with our pups.

Please make sure your pup has ample potty breaks as not to relieve itself near or around others in the restaurant.  Any accidents should immediately be cleaned up by the owner of the pup!  This is unsanitary and will make it where we are not invited back.  If your male dog is not fixed, then you must watch him consistently to assure he will not invade another dogs' personal space (if you know what I mean) or mark any items in his way, a belly band works great here.

No dogs are allowed on table tops, to eat off of your plate directly touching the plate or utensils or never take your dog inside of any food establishment.  There are health laws and we need to respectful of those laws to avoid getting any visited establishment in jeopardy.  Just because a restaurant is "dog friendly" that only pertains to outside of the building.  As part of the larger doggie community, we are working to have Florida be as pup friendly as possible, but we must abide by the general guidelines and be respectful.

This group is very well respected and has a high reputation, not only for it's community service and events but how it presents itself.   The Organizers work hard to bring events your way and we love seeing all of you but we must ask for common courtesty and respect to be displayed and exercised at all times.

If you have any questions as a result of this email, you can email me directly and I will be glad to respond as soon as possible.  Thank you!

Facebook is dead to me

I can't do it anymore. I was always the one that said, "my friends know how to contact me, if I've lost track of old friends-- there is a reason." I killed my account today. I kept the Penelope Blogs one because many followers tell me that is how they read the blog. The personal account--RIP.

Sideboob™

I don't know if you all look at the stuff I like to look at over to the left. It is links to cool websites. You need to check them out...I am all cutting edge and stuff. I have found a site I LOVE called I'm Boy Crazy http://imboycrazy.com/  Alexi is someone I could party with--well, maybe 20 years ago. I may be 45, but I can still rock the lingo and stuff. She frequently will reference sideboob. She kills me. KILLS ME.  Perhaps that is what has been lacking in my life...Sideboob™.

boycrazy trend report: side boobs! from alexi wasser on Vimeo.

I am overwhelm

I usually have something playing in the background when I blog. Tonight it is concert.tv.HD.  I have Mary J. Blige on. I love her. I started listening to her in the early 90s. I remember making a tape (yes--a cassette tape) for a nursing assistant I worked with in an ICU. Her name was Shylonda. She was so sweet. She loved Mary J. Blige. Shylonda would talk to patients about music. One night one of the nurses overheard her ask a patient, "Why kind of music do you like?" (at 0200 a.m. while the patient was on huge doses of morphine). The patient sat up and said, "Country I guess!"

Shylonda came in one night and told us she was pregnant. Her husband was a 11 pm-7 am security guard at the same hospital. As her due date grew near we planned a surprise baby shower. On the baby shower night Shylonda went on break (with her hubby--he was in on it). We decorated the nurse's station and got out all her gifts. We had a stroller as the big gift and we all got her the typical little gifts. It was her first baby and all the Mom's gave her tips. Shylonda kept saying, "I am overwhelm". It was so cute.

Every time I listen to MJB I think of Shylonda. I am overwhelm.

Labels

I just looked at the labels I have on the blog. Blogger has all different ways you can display them. This way is called "cloud." It makes the more frequently labeled items bigger. I certainly have some shit to say about Internet dating, the ManGroomer™ and sadly SOB and Spencer have a larger font. It made me think about thoughts...what if there was a program that showed our thoughts? I wonder which thoughts would have the big font? I think about this because I HATE that I have devoted more time on here to the negatives vs. the positives.

Note that Vienna Sausages have 4 appearances...

Hilda and Pedro

I am in the car all day--it's me, NPR and my ipod. I heard this story today...I had to pull over because I started to cry and I couldn't see through my tears. A HAPPY cry (I had to come back in and add that after my friend Polly told me to quit listening to sad stuff on NPR--she read this on her phone and didn't listen). Happy! Gives me hope. Listen to it!

My favorite line--"I believe that we started a conversation 20 years ago, and we have never stopped," Hilda says.

Hilda and Pedro with Hilda's daughter

Dillhole Part Deux

My next door neighbor Randy is friends with Dillhole. They do the happy hour thing and play soccer together. A couple of days ago Randy told me that Dillhole's Mother had died. His Father had also died less than 6 months ago. I felt my stomach turn. Tears came to my eyes. I was heartbroken for him. Apparently his Mom had moved in with him after his Dad died. It sounded like she had died of heartbreak. I asked Randy if he had the same cell number and I blurted out a string of 7 numbers that had been deleted from my phone, but were engrained in my brain. Randy said it was the right number. I called it and got a recording that the number was not receiving calls. I am pretty tech savvy--I didn't think you could block cell numbers, but it seemed like I had been blocked. I told Randy I couldn't get through. He didn't know much of our story (I was always a secret).  Randy told me that Dillhole (I feel disrespectful continuing to call him that--let's call him D which is the initial of his first name) played soccer the day after his Mom died. That is so D. He would put his head in the sand and act like everything was great even when his world was imploding. It actually helped ease the sting of a 12 year old memory of him leaving me in my apartment in a very low place to go to volleyball practice. The lightbulb went off. I had resented the FUCK out of him for years. I realized it was the best that guy could do.

But enough about me. The man I was in knock down, drag out love for years is in pain. I accepted the fact that I couldn't call him and realized that is for the best. I wrote a simple note and put it in the mail.

I may go back at a later date and fill in the rest of the story. There is a lot more. Right now I will let it rest.

Sodom and Google

Several of my friends and blog followers were concerned that I looked up Pao on Facebook. It's like I had been through AA, stayed sober for years and all of sudden I went and got wasted. My friend Polly sent me an email that simply read, "Why did you look her up? Do it again and I will cut you." That's true friendship. A friend that will cut you if you google the woman that screwed the artist formerly known as your husband in your bed. 

No worries Dear Readers. It sucked to look at her picture but I am still super strong. I"ll admit I had those really profound thoughts such as:

• Girl, she is fat...
• Ew--look at that cheap shirt.
• Ha--that purse is made of pleather.

Okay, That stuff doesn't matter. I have thought about why I looked her up. It all has to do with where my head was at the precise googling moment. Work has been pretty stressful. I've been dealing with some not so pleasant customers. I work with a psycho. I had to call her a couple of days ago and lay down the law. One of my final quotes to her was, "this job is hard enough without this petty, backbiting stuff behind the scenes."  I also had a confrontation with a person I had been doing business with over the last 2 years about money. To top it off, I had a tough conversation with a friend via email about the state of our friendship. I recall feeling a bit anxious at the precise moment of the googlification of Pao. John and Yoko have not entered my mind in a long time. It is funny that my friend GBS told me to remember Lot's wife. I was looking back at Sodom (metaphorically and in the comfort of my own home). I'm safe. I did not turn into a pillar of salt. One thing I do know is I will not do it again.

Pao on Facebook

Why...why would I look? Who knows what made me think to do it. I've had a relatively hectic day. I'm busy.  Who knows?

I looked her up by her last name. Her ex husband came up. I scrolled through his friends and there she was! By the way he works at an armory "designing and building exotic firearms"--I SHIT you not. Instead of having her last name (or the one she had when she was screwing my then husband) she is listed as Pao Dang. I am going to have to ask my ladies at the nail shop if that is a last name or one of those names certain cultures add to their names. Or maybe it's her maiden name? My sister just told me I could not post her picture...but I wanna (stamp foot). It was creepy to scroll through her friends--there was John's oldest son, one of the wives of the inner group (she is a nurse and her husband is an ER physician. She is the one that got me Xanax for my journey back to Tampa), I saw Pao's ghetto sister that got all "I will cut you" with me...ahhh, all the white trash memories came flooding back. I then realized I had a whole new group of people to block on Facebook. People, it was exhausting! 

I would like to rewrite her profile...

Activities: Fucking other people's husbands. Napping after fucking other peoples husbands. Cooking in the kitchen of other women with whom I am fucking their husband...

Interests: Fucking other people's husbands.

Music: About fucking other people's husbands. No rap please about fucking other peoples husbands.

Books: Anything pertaining to fucking other people's husbands.

Movies: That have to do with fucking other people's husbands.

Television: Fucking other people's husbands: The TV Show

I know I sound angry---I am laughing. In a manic way...

Positive Mirror Work

I think I am going to watch this every morning when I get up...

Tethered to Technology

I bet I don't have to explain that--the visual is enough. Every day I leave the house with my personal iphone, my work Blackberry, my ipod (because I must have 7,000+ songs with me at all times), my work laptop (a PC) not to be confused with the MacBook Pro that is my personal computer that stays home (and where all my blogging magic occurs)....it is exhausting. My friend Polly used the expression, "Tethered to Technology" yesterday and it really stuck. My friend Amy's (known as Big Mama on here) husband calls the Internet the intraweb. Let's put it in context, he wrote, "I hate the intraweb."  It's that same visual of being all tied up in it!

I've said it before and I will say it again--technology is going to be the cause of our demise. I don't want to get all armageddon and stuff. I'm staying away from cyber war and just talking basic manners. People can't have normal conversation anymore. I have friends that don't pick up the phone or make attempts to get together. They prefer random, senseless texting. I just made the decision to leave AT&T and their shitty, drop 1 out of every 5 calls (usually the call to your most important customer) ass behind. I'm going to Verizon. I ordered a new phone--the HTC Incredible (it's on back order because our entire society can't get enough of the latest, greatest). At first I was was frustrated--I wanted my new phone NOW (insert red cheeks and foot stamping). Then I thought about it. Perhaps my crummy AT&T was a blessing. I've had my phone off for most of the weekend. I went to the movies with my sister and my nephew. I've read the paper and books. I've been at one with nature. I was untethered and I didn't spontaneously combust!

Vienna Sausages

I like to occasionally post some Mangroomer™ or Vienna Sausage humor. Poor Timbaland. Look what  found when I Googled Vienna Sausages:

http://mto.mediatakeout.com/40636/lmaaaaaoooo_rapper_timbaland_is_packin_a_vienna_sausage.html?image=43149

From the illustrious website media takeout (never heard of it until tonight...

Pre Date Background Check

Lawd knows I have told you some gruesome stories about guys not being who they say they is...I gave my friend C. a lesson on using one of the finest sites in all the land: myfloridacounty.com. She is getting ready to have a first date with a guy after emailing and texting through match.com. He has a few questionable things in his past: looks like he was arrested in connection with Publix (probably did not pay the fees for writing a check that bounced) and a DUI when he was 22. C says he seems intelligent in written word, has a good job and is polite. She is really struggling with this--does she write off the guy as a loser or give him a chance since these things happened years ago? Here are the observations that have come up between C, me and some friends (one friend is a cop, another accountant, and the third an attorney).

• He was young. We all do dumb things when we are young...
• But a DUI?
• He got arrested for the Publix deal. How bad was it? It looked like one check for $76.  Publix doesn't mess around with people that do not pay the fees.
• But still, getting arrested? Why not pay the fees or get someone to help you?

This whole thing brings forward a bigger question--how quick are we to judge? I will tell you 3 stories about the past of a successful friends of mine:

• She got so fed up with school and her home life that she left 12th grade early and moved out with a boyfriend. She got a GED and ended up going to cosmetology school. She was an apprentice in a hair salon and immediately knew she hated it. She started to wait tables to save for school. It took her a while, but she ended up going back to school and eventually got a bachelors degree.
• Another one was so poor when she was 19 that her only meal would be at the Bennigan's where she waited tables at night. For a $1.50/day she could eat soup and muffins. She would take her tips and drive through the bank in the morning to cover the checks she had written the day before to pay the bills on time. One morning the bank called her to question the activity on her account. It was a vicious cycle. She ended up getting her Bachelors when she was 42.
• The third one made such bad grades in high school that the guidance counselor suggested she learn a "trade" such as being a scrub tech in the operating room. The counselor didn't didn't get that she was miserable at home and school bored her. She ended up becoming a nurse and never worked in the OR.

All three now own a house, own their car, have a decent retirement account, good credit and they are nice people. Oh yeah...those 3 bullet points all describe me at different times in my life. On the front end I had a GED, a cosmetology license and I waited tables. One could call me a loser. Now, I am a registered nurse, I have my bachelors in business with a focus on healthcare and a great job.  I am considered successful.

Conversely, Special Ops Boy:

• Looks great on paper. An officer in the Navy. Clean cut (aren't they all), divorced, no kids, grew up on a farm in PA, hardworking, spoke about how important values are and a bit boring. He would appear to be a "catch."
• In reality--A liar, remarried, has a baby, doesn't seem to work that hard, has no moral compass and is still boring. Not a "catch".

So, what does C do? Does she cancel the date due to this guy's past or give it a try?

Mi Xanax, Su Xanax

I've blogged before about having a reserve of Xanax and the like. I pride myself on the fact that although  have an addictive personality (Coca-Cola, shoes, purses, Sara Lee Butter Streusel Coffee Cake), I do not have an affinity for being drugged up. I have what I call my End of Days Stash™. It freaks my sister out. I recently explained to her that if there was some world ending event (I read way too many Cormac McCarthy books), I would dose my animals, dose me and get into bed. Okay, let's get away from the creepy talk..this blog is about having a Xany available for a friend in need. I have a friend that is dealing with the death of a close friend. I put together a little care package of sorts. Years ago when I was a training manager, there were several reps that had to present to the entire company. They were paralyzed with fear. I gave them each a dose 30 minutes prior to each talk. I have it down to a finely tuned timetable. I was not negligent. I made sure they had taken it in the past (yes). I smiled like a proud Momma as they got up with them microphone and gave flawless presentations. You all know Sulie has been having a rough time. The other night I gave her one. She said, "I don't want to take your stash (she was alluding to the End of Days Stash™. 

My reply was "Mi Xanax, Su Xanax."

Shapeshifter

My friend Lorraine sent me this video today. Don't be like me...I watched it thinking it was real. That is sad--I beleived the idiot newscasters were real. I missed it was from The Onion...

Hot New Relationship Book Warns Women: 'Wake Up! He's A Shapeshifter'

There is some truth here--I think I have dated Shapeshifters. There have been several I'm so busy guys (with friends, work, band, golf, kids) yet they all have time to sleep with other women! They have all looked different and had different professions but they are really the same guy!

I found the @#$^&*ing Pen!

I was just going through a sassy black patent leather bag for my sissie to borrow for her interview in the a.m.  As I dug out a pack of kleenex, floss (you never know) and change I said, "you know I have given up on every finding that pen..." I reached in the side pocket and there it was! The fucking pen I have searched for on many a night!

I say that is a GREAT sign for Sulie's interview!

http://nobodyputsbabyinthecorner-penelope.blogspot.com/2010/05/pen-in-haystack.html

Almonds

Do you ever read those articles in magazines like Shape and Marie Claire suggesting that you "grab a few almonds as a snack to hold you over until the next meal"? I just ate a few almonds. I'm still hungry. Fuck you probably-a-size-2-and -bulimic-magazine-writer. 

Crankily yours,

Penelope

Penelope P.I.

One of my friends that lives up in Jacksonville is on match.com. She asked me about  checking up on the guys--I am known as the Internet sleuth. I can't take all the credit. I learned my best tricks from Sulie. So for all the Florida girls out there...this is how you do it:

Go to myfloridacounty.com

• See online services
• Under that look at bullets, select-
• Order official records
• Bottom of page, middle choice:
• Non subscriber search

Be careful. It is easy to get caught up in all the information. Double-check counties and middle initials. For example, in Hillsborough county, there is another woman with my name. She has a different middle initial, a judgment and a foreclosure. 

My friend is beautiful. Long dark hair, dazzling smile, kick ass body and a personality to match. She is 10 year younger than me. She just had another guy tell her he was out of town on the 4th but he posted pictures of a party at his pool on a social networking site. I don't get why the dating thing is such a challenge (at any age).

Facebook Friends

I have said this before and I will say it again--technology freaks me out. I was just on Facebook looking at all the suggestions for friends. You know how it lists people that are friends with your friends and assumes you may know each other. There really are 4 categories in my book:

1. Yay!--I'm glad I found this friend
2. They were okay--don't know that I really want to have them as a friend
3. The oh no I must block them before they reach out to me friend
4. The cyber voyeur I can see them, but they aren't looking at me and they sure as hell ain't a friend

There are high school friends, present job friends, old job friends, friends of friends, family you like, family you don't like---it is exhausting!

I was just able to browse through pictures of a #2 category. We used to work together. She was okay. I got to see her new boyfriend, his weird chain around his neck,their trip to San Francisco and how she looks in a bathing suit. I do a bit of preemptive blocking (category 3) with folks that I see no reason to connect. #4 category is how I was able to look at Spencer and confirm that he is a freak (he had his wall open for all to see), how I found out SOB has a child (what a frickin liar) and how one of my friends knew her employee was bad mouthing her (the dumb bitch posted things on her wall that was open for all to see). As for category #1--if they are a close friend they are already in my life and we don't need Facebook.

Why am I on there anyway?

33 Year Old Thank You

This weekend I am working at a cardiac surgeons meeting. I looked at the list of attendees and saw that Dr. P is here. He did my Mom's open heart surgery in 1977. I saw his name and I remembered a day in June when I was a scared 12 year old and this man in green scrubs came out to talk to my uncle and my sisters. All I can remember is staring at his shoes. They were covered in blood. Was it my Mom's blood? I can remember snippets--she would be in the hospital for 2 weeks (they kept them a long time back then), she would be tired, but she would be fine.

My Mom's coronary artery bypass grafts lasted for 21 years. Essentially what they do is "jump over" a blockage in the coronary artery by using veins they harvested from the leg.  Success is measured by not having chest pain, being able to resume normal activity, and not having further cardiac issues (i.e.oxygen flow is restored in the heart).

I told the meeting coordinator that I wanted to talk to Dr. P. I explained it wasn't sales and told her the story. This morning she came to me and said, "Dr. P's over in the corner in the yellow shirt." I recognized him immediately. I went over and introduced myself and told him the story. I started to tear up when I recounted what it was like when he came out of the operating room to talk to us. I told him how his professional demeanor was calming to a scared 12 and 10 year old girls. He started to cry and hugged me. He told me that his son is now a cardiac surgeon in Naples. He said he wanted to introduce me to his wife. He took me over and introduced me to Mrs. P. I told her the story and she smiled. She thanked me for sharing. She told me how when her son was in his residency that the nurses would call her and tell how he was doing. He was know for being nice (not typical for cardiac surgeons). Dr. P's wife was a nurse too. She said she taught her kids to be nice. I told her how I stared at Dr. P's shoes when he spoke to us back in 1977. She grimaced and said, "oh, I bet they were covered in blood." We both started to laugh. She hugged me and said she would tell her son the story. She said he would be so proud of his Dad.

Watch out--You May Be Ignoring The Boss

My friend Scott always sends the over the best emails. I remember this story from a few years back. Here's a link to the original news story:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html

THE SITUATION

In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.


About 4 minutes later:

The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At 6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes:

A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.

At 45 minutes:

The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.


After 1 hour:

He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.



This experiment raised several questions:
*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?


One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .
How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?


On the opposite side of the coin I found a video where Bruce Springsteen stopped and played with a street musician in Copenhagen. It is obvious in this video that the people recognized him:

Thinking vs. Saying

Thinking something crappy...not so bad.

Saying it out loud...Bad.

Having those moments where you can literally see the crappy words in the air like they are in a cartoon bubble as they come out...Really bad.

I was talking to my sister about some of the shitty things people have said to her since she lost her job. The Top 3:

• Maybe now you'll save...
• I'm really busy, can I call you back?
• Listen to what happened to me today...

Do these people know how callous they are? Do they have any idea how crappy those comments sound? Who knows? As the resident Punisher™, I advised Sulie to discontinue contact with any of the Top 3 offenders.

It made me think about what I do when I say something crappy? A couple of weeks ago I went out to lunch with Sulie. I took Daisy along and we sat outside. As I was enjoying my waffles and friend chicken (I shit you not--it was Soul Food Sunday), daisy decided to jump in the lap of the lady in the booth behind me. I jumped up to apologize and saw it was a old friend I hadn't seen in years. We had drifted apart after I moved to Louisiana. We quickly caught up and I was thrilled to hear that she had met a new guy and was engaged. She had been involved with a married doctor for 14 years when we were friends. Our crowd always hated him and hated that she was wasting her time with married doctor I have no intention of leaving my wife man. As I left I waved and said, "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you! I know it was a long time coming..." WHAT THE FUCK! Do I have Tourettes? I could see the words in my imaginary cartoon bubble. I wanted to get out my big imaginary eraser. I didn't mean it to be hurtful--I was like, "hell yeah, it's been a long time coming and you deserve to be happy." Instead I sounded like a beeotch. I rolled my eyes as my old friend smiled and waved. She knows I am a goof and that I have a good heart, but is that good enough? I have thought about calling her and apologizing but then I wondered if I was making a big deal out of nothing. 2 weeks have gone by--I think it may have exceeded the statute of crappy comment limitations. I have learned a lesson. From now on when the crappy comment escapes (I am confident there will be more), I will acknowledge it and apologize.

Did the crappy commenters to my sister know that they were being assholes? Maybe. Maybe not. Do I want to Punish them. Hell yeah.

PMS

PMS...I used to think it was a bullshit. I thought it didn't exist and it was a bullshit excuse to be a bitch.

One of my college friends was working on his doctorate in anthropology. He went to Africa while he was in the Peace Corps. He brought up PMS to some of the women in Benin. They laughed at him. I suppose American woman seem so frivolous.

Now I realize it really exists. The government has even put together an educational video...

The Manscape is Changing

The Tampa Tribune did a piece on one of my favorites subjects--Manscaping! Ironically the picture of a local esthetician that accompanies the piece is of Anjelica who does my facials!

http://www2.tbo.com/content/2010/jun/02/071450/where-image-concerned-manscape-changing/

She is so sweet. I've never told her the ManGroomer™ story. Believe it or not, I don't tell everyone my stuff!

F*ck Its

Tampa has tons of homeless people (or tons of people with signs on the corner asking for money). It has been pouring this weekend and the corners have been vacant. I found myself being secretly relieved that I didn't have to go through my no eye contact dance. There is great debate if the people are really without jobs or people out making extra money or people who have mental illness that have no where else to go. That's a whole other blog...

It made me think about what pushes someone to say "fuck it?" I hope I am not going out on a limb when I share that I have the "fuck its" go through my mind several times a day. I consider myself to be fairly optimistic. I look back on my life and realize that I came really close to never finishing school and waiting tables until I'm 70. For whatever reason, I decided to work on creating a better life. I still have daily fuck its...

The daily brushes with "fuck it":

• Clock goes off at 0700. Fuck it--hit snooze.
• I should get on the elliptical. Fuck it--I'll do it later.
• Get up and look in mirror. Internal debate over whether or not I can get an extra day out of my blow out. Fuck it. I'm not washing it.
• Breakfast choices--I can make oatmeal and I have some strawberries to put in. Fuck it--I'l drive through Chick-Fil-A and get a Coke and a biscuit.

You get the theme...there are already 4 Fuck Its before 0900. These are little fuck its, but they can lead to big FUCK ITS. 2 out of the 4 Fucks Its have direct impact on my health. I come from a long line of cardiac illness and I have control over how I take care of myself and the bad cardiac gene pool I've been dealt.

Dear Readers, let's all be more aware of our little fuck its so they don't become BIG FUCK ITS!

Music Instead of Speeches

I watched a piece on CBS News Sunday Morning yesterday--it was about sending musicians to diplomatic hot spots. In the 50's, Duke Ellington and Dizzy Gillespie played in other countries. In the 80's, Dave Brubeck was in Moscow during the summit with Reagan and Gorbachev.They showed a modern day hip hop  band, Chen Lo playing in Syria recently. They interviewed Hillary Clinton (sister needs some under eye cream,but I digress...)  She said there are times when music conveys American values better than a speech. Wynton Marseilles said the musicians represent the people vs. the government. 

Next time I really want to make a point I'm going to get out my ipod. 

Hurt People...Hurt People

A couple of my friends asked me to clarify. It is a play on words--means people that have been hurt, in turn, hurt others. Brings me to a subject I have struggled with through the years. Do we make allowances for people in our lives because they've had a hard time, bad childhood, etc? I know I have made excuses for others (and myself). When do you draw the line  and say get over it? Reminds me of a Lucinda Williams song that I love. It's a great one to scream along to while driving. One moment while I cut and paste:

Sweet Side

Lucinda Williams

Album: World Without Tears

You run yourself ragged tryin' to be strong. You feel bad when you done nothin' wrong

Love got all confused with anger and pride

So much abuse on such a little child

Someone you trusted told you to shut up

Now there's a pain in your gut that you can't get rid of

No one heard your screams when you were nine

When bad dreams filled your summertime

So you don't always show your sweet side ...

You're tough as steel and you keep your chin up

You don't ever feel like you're good enough

You've had the blues ever since you were six

Your little tennis shoes and your pick-up sticks

You were screamed at and kicked over and over

Now you always feel sick and you can't keep a lover

Every Christmas there were presents to unwrap

But the things you witnessed when you were five and a half

So you don't always show your sweet side ...

Someone deserted you, the damage is done

Now you don't deserve to be loved by no one

Hands that would feed you when you were two

Were the same hands that beat you black and blue

You get defensive at every turn

You're overly sensitive and overly concerned

Few precious memories no lullabies

Hollowed out centuries of lies

So you don't always show your sweet side ...

I've seen you in the kitchen cookin' me supper

I listened to you bitchin' I watched you suffer

I still love you baby 'cause I know you

Don't mean to do the cruel things you do

I've seen you sewin' buttons on your shirt

I've seen you throwin' up when your stomach hurt

I'll stick by you baby through thick and thin

No matter what kind of shape you're in

'Cause I've seen your sweet side ...

I've seen hear play several times. She is a fan of Jack D. 

STRAIGHT.

Hurt People...

...Hurt People

I just heard that quote on a movie.

Ain't it the truth.

Living Unconscious

I have been watching the series that Oprah has done on the Debt Diet (I suspect it has a ™). She has made the comment that people are going through life unconscious. 2 weeks ago I watched one of the shows and got up and cleaned out my closet. I am embarrassed to tell you how many pairs of jeans I own. And white t-shirts. And black heels. And purses, LAWD, the purses. 10 pairs of black dress pants. 2 dresses with the tags still on them. I realized I am one of the unconscious ones! Don't get me started on the bathroom drawer. I have creams and lotions that promise dewy skin and happiness. Enough hair products to style a nation.

Oprah talked about trying to fill the void. I was horrified. Am I trying to fill the void with my True Religions (not a real religion, but a sassy brand of jeans)? Am I worshipping at the Temple of MAC? I realized I have used the expressions "retail therapy" and talked about buying a little "pick me up". OMG...who AM I?

I pimped slapped myself and cleaned out my closet and bathroom drawers. I put aways Daisy's various harnesses and leases (she's been living unconsciously too). 

Next time I am at the store and I go to buy another:

• Black purse, shoes, pants or top
• Pair of jeans
• White t-shirt or any kind of top
• Dress for work
• Short nightie
• Moisturizer

I give each and every one of you the permission to pinch me.

Consciously yours,

Penelope

Being a good student

I was just putting away my Fresh Market Margarita pizzas in my fridge and I saw my ziplock baggie with Annie's name on it. I'm going to have to call Miss Tarot Card because that shit ain't working. Annie wrote me a long email last week asking me to call her to talk about job interviews. 

How are you? I hope things are finally peaceful for you. I seem to be doing much better since the anxiety has not attacked me again.
I have an interview with the regional manager of this device company on July 5th.
I need help. What do I wear? Where is the best place to shop for a suit or outfit for the interview?
I have my brag book . If it were you what else would you prepare for before the interview. I am so out of the selling loop.
I really value your opinion and you do so well in interviews since you always land the job!
Any advice is welcome!

I was a puss when she wrote her first email a couple of weeks ago telling me she was looking for a new job. I sent her a list of recruiters and gave her the "things are so busy" line. She called me and I didn't call her back. Now another email. Several of my friends have told me I need to write a quick "I wish you the best on your job search, I'm moving on, it is best we don't talk, see ya" email. It is so funny, I am The Punisher™ and I will kick a mutha fucka's ass, but I don't want to deal with her. I feel like I set boundaries with her over and over when I was married to John. I am tapped out on boundary setting. I am a firm believer that the same lesson keeps presenting itself until it is learned.

My lesson is nipping shit. Wonder if I can take an online course. Nipping Shit 101.

Bad things happening to good people

My sister was let go from her job this week. She stood up for what she believed on several occasions (she is an accountant) and the CEO didn't like it. Sulie is asleep in my bed right now (with a cute dog next to her). It is like a death. She is exhausted--she has been questioning herself, worried what people are saying and wondering if she should have done things differently. It kills me to see her in so much pain. You know The Punisher™ wants to come out. I have visions of packing up Daisy's shit in a box and FedExing it to the C-U-Next-Tuesday that did this. Instead I have been providing round the clock Xanax and humor. I do know that Sulie will land on her feet and get a fabulous job and the cretins at that place will all go down (it is a not for profit that has questionable ethics). I ask all my peeps in blog land to pray, think good thoughts, meditate (whatever it is you do), good thoughts for Sulie. She has an interview tomorrow and is in the running for another position (she had been out there looking prior to this week). 

It makes me ponder that question we all think about--What do shitty things happen to good people? Is it part of a plan? I know it is my sister's journey, but why? It is just like when Bob Nobles used to make fun of her when we were in kindergarten and she was in preschool. I want to kick a mutha fucka's ass. I will keep The Punisher™ at bay and hold Sulie in my highest thoughts.

If any of you all have experience interviewing after being let go, could you please give comments or advice. You can comment anonymously or send me an email. Even if it is anecdotal friend-of-a-friend stories. Sulie is dreading the "have you been terminated question". She did nothing wrong, but there is a stigma associated with the word "terminated". Thank you all.