Sales Pitch...

I have just been tasked with coming up with a fresh new way to sell our points credit card. I know a lot of you don't have any idea what that means, but I'm sure ALL OF YOU have been offered a credit card at some point.

I have until next Wedensday to come up with a handout and a short presentation of new ways to try and sell this card. My first thought was akin to panic, just because public speaking is...not really my thing...but it's my coworkers. And now...I'm just thinking about ways I'd want a credit card sold to me.

So...can I ask you? How would you want a credit card sold to you? What would work for you?

Any idea you might have would be much appreciated. Thanks!

Out

The Fabulous Adventures of Five and the Birthday Weekend...

My birthday weekend was super-fun. End of story.

Not really end of story, actually.

Friday night my family and Robb and I went out for Chinese at Yen Ching. Yum. And my mom decided that leftovers in their fridge would just sit there, so she sent me home with SEVEN chinese takeout boxes. Seven! We're down to five, I think. But we had lemon chicken, two plates of happy family, twice-cooked pork, and two plates of Hong Kong chicken steak...oh, and Yen Ching Fried Rice that my mom ALWAYS orders and NEVER eats. And now...we're out one happy family and one lemon chicken and one twice-cooked pork. Holy hell...rice is coming out my ears!

Oh, and speaking of being out one happy family, Sunday was a delight. Note sarcasm. We crashed at Robb's dad's house Saturday night after hanging out in Chicago with his friends Amy, Erin, and Cari and going to thrift stores and finishing at Nookie's for dinner and dessert. Sunday morning we got up and showered, got ready for church, and Robb's dad was making breakfast. Robb asked who was coming over for Easter dinner, and his dad said that hateful brother-in-law and sister were coming with their kids. We expected that.

What we DIDN'T expect was Robb's dad suggesting we leave before they got there, so as to avoid trouble. Because apparently one side of this disagreement can't be trusted to be civil to each other over Easter dinner (although he never said that specifically, it's what the message meant). And I don't really fault Robb's dad for saying that. He doesn't know what to do about this while situation any more than we do. He's just trying his best to keep everyone happy and, well, up to now, failing miserably at keeping us happy at all.

So...we were both pissed off, and we packed our bags and left before church or brunch or anything. His dad wanted us to stay then, positively pleaded for us to stay. But really, the damage had been done and the day had been tainted, so...Robb and I left.

I called my mom and asked if they were doing anything for Easter, and she said no until I told her what happened. And then we went over there and had a delicious steak dinner. So...something was salvaged out of this while mess.

Ugh. Crappy Easter.

And the worst part of it all is that Robb is so torn up about this. It just makes me sick to see him hurting.

So...yeah...until Sunday morning, my birthday weekend was amazing! Blah.

Out

The Power of Ten--or Fifteen...

My friend Melissa (check her out) ran a feature on her blog today that I think it would be fun to emulate.

She did a "10 Things About My Disability" post that I thought was very informative and witty. And while I don't have a disability, per se, I do have a unique perspective. So I thought it might be fun to tell you fifteen things about myself.

So, onward!

1. I am not contagious. I know, this was Mel's first point, but really. You can't catch gay. What you can catch from hanging out with me, though, is well-timed humor and maybe a laugh or a yawn.

2. I am a bibliophile. My room is filled with stacks of books in front of shelves full of books. And on top of those shelves? Books. I adore them, how they look and smell, the sound of turning pages, the magic of words passed through time. It's a vacation in the comfort of my home, and I love it.

3. I always wanted a Chia Pet. Since the first time I saw the commercials during Thundercats and Transformers when I was just a tiny Viewtiful_Justin. I asked my mother to get me one. I wanted them for birthdays and Christmases every year for what felt like ages. And I never got one.

4. I have a thing for firefighters. It's true. Joe Regular? Meh. But when I find out he's a firefighter, his hot points go up five-fold. The hat, the coat, the trucks...all of it. I don't know any reason why this is. I've tried to explain it, and I've plumbed the depth of my childhood. Nothing. But I do.

5. I have an irrational fear of being abandoned in a public place. I don't care if it's a grocery store I go to three times a week and I'm the one with the car keys; if I look up and I can't see you, I get nervous. Anxious. And I have to stop shopping and come find you. I've never been abandoned in a public place. I've never really been abandoned anywhere. But if I can't see you...I'm afraid.

6. I used to have a great memory, but now...not so much. I was a vault. Lock it away and never lose it. Now? It's more like a sieve. Lots of holes...I put something there, and when I go to look for it again in ten minutes...gone! Names, dates, ideas...gone! That is, unless I write it down. If I put pencil to paper and make those marks,

7. I had a great one for number seven, and then I forgot it while writing the last one...hrmmm....oh! I got it! I was going to say that I love to sing. And I do! If there is a song on the radio that I know, I will be singing along. Not well, mind you, but singing along nonetheless. And if I don't know it? I'll be singing along by the second chorus. And, because of that, I judge a lot of music based on its singability. If it's not fun to sing along, I probably don't like it.

8. My feet are cold. Unless I am wearing shoes, I can guarantee you that my feet are cold. I'm sure it's poor circulation, although I've never been diagnosed or even checked out. But I've heard "Your feet are like ice!" enough times to know it's true.

9. I try to figure you out. When I am in public and I see two people together or a group of friends are all around one table at a restaurant, I try to figure out the dynamics of the group. I like to see if they seem like they're on a first date or it it's someone's birthday, if it's a work group or a school study date. I love figuring people out. People watching...to the extreme!!!

10. I find rudeness deplorable. When I say hello to a cahsier, I expect a response. When I talk to someone, I expect their attention. I hate seeing people come through the drive at work while they're on their cell phone. It bothers me even more to see them talking while they're inside and I'm waiting on them. I can't imagine how people could think that it's okay to do this. It's rude, and it's unacceptible. It's important to be polite.

11. I have written three novels. Each year I participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and every year I've participated, I've won, which means I've finished three 50,000 word novels, each in 30 days in the month of November. It's crazy amouonts of fun. But...the funny thing is that I've never edited one of them. Never even gone back and read them.

12. I'm a gamer. Many, many hours of my childhood were spent (not wasted, spent) in front of the television with a Nintendo controller in my hand. Not Sega. Not Playstation. Nintendo. I am and have always been a die-hard Nintendo fan...although right now they're working very hard to lose my affections--what with their lack of games for true gamers and their mountains of shitty shovelware crap. But, I digress. The fact is, I play, and I always have.

13. I like pirate slang. When I greet people, it's "Ahoy-hoy." Sometimes when I finish packing things at work I say, "Thar she blows." And sometimes, for no reason, I let fly with a "Yarrr." But I don't particularly care for pirates or the Disney Pirate movies. It's just...a love for the sound of it all.

14. It's a texture thing. This is the line I use when I don't like a food. I love cheese, and I love yogurt, but cottage cheese? Those little lumps turn me off. Baked beans, kidney beans, navy beans? Grainy texture. Ick. Same with peas. And marshmallows? Don't even get me started on marshmallows! I don't understand how something can be simultaneously puffy, slimy, chalky, and squishy at the same time. Eww. Add Peep's crunchy sugar coating and you've got the most revolting thin on the planet.

15. I love. There is so much hatred in this world, and only love can set it straight. I want to try to do my part to reverse the ravages of hate. So, I love. I love people and animals. I love quirks and mannerisms, accents and hair colors. I love facial tics and fashion, expressions and emotions. I just try to love. And I fail at this regularly, but I'm always trying. And really, that's all that matters.

What are some things that people don't know about you? Post them up and let me know about them!

Out

Silly Wordplay...

Excuse me for the moment. I was thinking about this during my morning shower, and I thought I needed to share.

Maybe you'll wish I hadn't.

But. In either case, this is best read aloud.

What do you call something that belongs to Johann Sebastian?

Bach's.

So, a container that belongs to J.S. would be?

Bach's box.

And if, somehow, that container was a pugilist?

Bach's boxing box.

Okay. You still with me?

Now. What if that pugilistic container belonging to J.S. had a compulision to burst into song while hammering away at his opponent--what would that be?

Bach's singing, boxing box.

And...if they had an unexpected breakout success of a variety show, what would the headlines read?

Bach's Singing, Boxing Box Sings!

Alright. I'm done now. Thanks for indulging me in my ridiculous English moment.

Out

(Dis)invited

I wish I could tell you that this past Sunday I had a great time at Medieval Times with Robb and his family for his dad's birthday. Unfortunately, I cannot. It has nothing to do with the show or the service. I'm sure they were wonderful. It has everything to do with the fact that I was uninvited.

Disinvited, as I've been calling it, because the manner in which it was done was so disrespectful.

Let's go way back...way back to before I'd ever met Robb. His older sister married a guy named Scott. And he was cool, way cool. He loved the drag queens, and he and Robb's sister even took Robb to his first pride parade. He was pretty much everything you could want in a brother-in-law.

And then something happened. And no one is really sure what...

He lost his job. He started drinking. That was last year-ish.

Fast forward. Robb and his sister are planning to take their dad to Medieval Times for his birthday. Dinner and tournament! Plans were laid. I was invited. And then I heard nothing for a while.

Fast forward to Friday of last week.

Robb emails me. Family drama. He didn't want to talk about it through email. He didn't want to talk about it at all. I went home and was getting ready for my birthday party. Robb was visibly bummed out. I asked him why.

Apparently his once-cool brother-in-law has taken all his accumulated self-loathing and become Hector Projector. And now we're the hated ones. Because we're gay. Suddenly he's this uber-religious, super-conservative, hateful bastard. He told his wife that he wouldn't go if we were both there. And then they bought tickets for everyone who was planing on going EXCEPT me.

So, in order to avoid conflict on the day they were celebrating his dad's birthday, Robb went. He pulled his sister aside and told her how horrible and discriminatory it was that this was going on, but he went. I don't fault him for that. I'd have done the same thing.

And she says she's going to do something about it. I am not holding my breath.

It's the first time I've been actively discriminated against--singly, anyway. And it makes me sick. How can someone I've had next to NO contact with be so shitty to me? How can he be such an asshole to his brother-in-law Robb who has been nothing but a spectacular uncle to his kids?! It's a damn shame, really.

And when someone hates me for no reason, it makes me want to give them a reason. I know I'd feel a hell of a lot better about him if he hated me for a reason. And if I didn't care so much about his sister and those three kids, I'd firebomb the damn house, slash his tires, do donuts in the back yard...something...anything to give him a reason.

But this senseless, baseless, random hatred is too much for me to handle. And it's not okay. Ever.

Out

Take Your Nickel Back...

A song came on the radio today while I was at work, and my automatic gag reflex started. It was one of those songs about cherishing the day you have, because what if it was your last...you know, kind of sappy and bad like "If Everyone Cared," by Nickelback.

And then I thought...wait a minute...this IS Nickelback. Ugh. The gag reflex made sense.

Are they still making music? Is there anyone out there who still listens to them by choice? I mean...I assume that if they're still making music SOMEONE is buying their albums. But...who?

I'm sorry if you like them. I have pretty much hated them since...well, since that time in the early 00's when EVERY band sounded like them. Do you remember that week? Why weren't THEY one of the bands that went away? Anywho...

This rant really doesn't have much of a point, aside from raising awareness of the suckiness of a band that needs to grow up or get out. If I have to hear one more song by them that reminds me of a Barney lesson, I'm going to hurl. A brick through their collective faces.

And now, "Don't Stop Believin'" is on. I must go worship.

Out

Behind the Lens...

It's a little bit funny.

I was looking through photos the other day, and I was astounded by the number of photos I had taken of myself in a "Myspace" sort of way: extended arm, no smile, cute hair...you know the drill. And I thought to myself, "When did I become this person?"

And then I realized something. They are the only photos of me I have. Where are the photos of me with my friends? Where are the shots taken on vacation of me in front of the Grand Canyon or me hanging out the window of a car? I have tons of photos like these:



The MySpace shot, and...



The mirror shot.

And tons of photos like these:



Photos where my whole family (sister, stepdad, mom, brother, sister-in-law) went to do something, and I am mysteriously absent, and...



...photos like these where we did something amazing and odd in college (like play music in the elevator for three hours, making up songs the whole time) and I am not recorded.

And I realized that I am missing out, being the one behind the lens the whole time. I am strikingly absent from all of the records of my favorite memories. When I am old, no one will believe I ever had any part of this kind of thing. They'll just think I sat around and took photos of myself during a particularly good hair day while everyone else traipsed around Millennium Park and sang for strangers in the elevator.

Is there a fix for this, short of giving my camera full of memories to a perfect stranger and chancing theft? Not that I have found.

And will this change? Most likely, not.

Why is that? Because I love taking photos, hunting for those moments when a friend smiles their true smile or something crazy and unbelievable happens just as the shutter opens. It's the magic of the moment, the laughs and jokes captured right there to revisit, in case I never have another one. It's storing away little capsules full of happiness with my friends and family.

And really, if I wanted to look at myself, I could just look in a mirror...or visit MySpace.

Out