Do you read the ending of a book first? I know…it sounds crazy…at least it sounds crazy to normal people like myself. I have a couple of friends, who will remain nameless….actually model this strange behavior. I would never be the one to put them in the spotlight and ridicule them…I would never do that.
For the life of me…I can’t figure out why someone would jump to the end of the book and read the ending. Maybe they do it because they don’t plan on reading the entire book. They don’t have time to read it or they are uninterested. But then again…why bother even reading the ending? Why would you care to learn that Mr. Fink went to jail for the rest of his life…if you didn't know why he was a fink…or what fink stuff landed him there.
Then again…maybe they do plan on reading the entire book….but jump to the ending because they don’t like surprises. They dislike ALL surprises…especially the kind of surprise where 50 people are standing in their home…yelling “surprise” when they’ve just walked through the door after getting caught in a rainstorm with no umbrella..and a bad encounter with a novice eyebrow waxer.
Whatever the reason…I still don’t get it. Another person, who will also remain faceless, told me that she was reading one of my blogs and jumped to the last sentence. What! Excuuuussse meeeeeee….Was I boring you that much…that you stopped reading and skipped to the end?
Wait…I think I’m onto something here. Maybe a good last sentence is what makes a person decide that something is worth reading. If the sentence makes an impact or impression on them…they go back to the beginning and read the entire book…or the entire blog.
Maybe from now on I should work on a catchy last sentence…something that would grab the reader’s attention …to read the entire blog. Let’s see if that works………..
Sistersledge is a huge horse’s patoot if she thinks she can get away with skipping ahead in my blog and reading the ending first.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Twitter Pipe
Why is the world all a-twitter? Frankly, Shirley, and throw in a Joey…I don’t get the mass interest in Twitter. I have talked about Twitter before in another blog and how there are some people like Ashton Kutcher and John Mayer who have over 1 million followers…while I only have a measly 4. Whoops, I’m not calling my 4 followers measly…it’s the number that’s paltry…not the people.
Maybe it could be said, “Kat is just sour tweets cuz she doesn’t have the masses or asses following her.” But Kat says, “I really don’t get it. I don’t get the tweet thing. I don’t give a tweet over twitter.”
The best thing about Twitter…is the obvious…it’s the name. The guy or gal who came up with the name “Twitter” is a freak of genius. Twitter is such a fun word to say…to write…and to do word take-offs. There are so many ways you can go with the word “Twitter.” Here a Twitter. There a Tweet. Everywhere a twitter tweet.
I think John Mayer is very witty….he definitely writes the twitiest tweets on twitter. He just might be King of the Tweets. I would consider him a tweeting genius. (See what I’m talking about with the word? It’s a sickness…I can’t stop myself.)
Okay, so John Mayer has The Twitter World and all its twits locked up. But I say, “John Mayer can keep his Twitter domain…and his million followers….I have the blog.”
Never underestimate the power of the blog. As a famous novelist once said, “the pen is mightier than the sword”….but…as a not so famous Kat novelist once said, “the blog is mightier than the tweet.”
Put that in your twitter pipe, John Mayer, and tweet it.
Maybe it could be said, “Kat is just sour tweets cuz she doesn’t have the masses or asses following her.” But Kat says, “I really don’t get it. I don’t get the tweet thing. I don’t give a tweet over twitter.”
The best thing about Twitter…is the obvious…it’s the name. The guy or gal who came up with the name “Twitter” is a freak of genius. Twitter is such a fun word to say…to write…and to do word take-offs. There are so many ways you can go with the word “Twitter.” Here a Twitter. There a Tweet. Everywhere a twitter tweet.
I think John Mayer is very witty….he definitely writes the twitiest tweets on twitter. He just might be King of the Tweets. I would consider him a tweeting genius. (See what I’m talking about with the word? It’s a sickness…I can’t stop myself.)
Okay, so John Mayer has The Twitter World and all its twits locked up. But I say, “John Mayer can keep his Twitter domain…and his million followers….I have the blog.”
Never underestimate the power of the blog. As a famous novelist once said, “the pen is mightier than the sword”….but…as a not so famous Kat novelist once said, “the blog is mightier than the tweet.”
Put that in your twitter pipe, John Mayer, and tweet it.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Done-me-wrong Song
Nothin’ like a country song. I love the lyrics in country songs and how they tell a story. I especially love singing along to the song by Billy Currington: “God is great, Beer is good…and People are crazy.” Amen, Brother.
Most country songs are fun…they talk about barbecue, beer and babes. Or they talk about trucks, tires, and tomatoes (okay…that’s the PG version) I could have mentioned a word that rhymes with Zits. Hehehe. Or they talk about heartstrings, heartache, or heartbreakers.
Taylor Swift is the princess of country music right now. How old is she anyway? 12? I realize that she does have enormous talent…but the only problem is, if you listen to the words of her songs…they are all about the same thing. About how she’s the girl in school who longs for the boy who doesn’t notice her. Cripe…she’s sitting right next to him…and for some reason he's clueless that the prettiest girl in school is all whack job over him...with tears on her guitar. Boo hoo Taylor, grow up.
Sorry Taylor Swift fans. I admit, that’s not fair…that’s what Taylor is doing…she’s growing up. I take that back.
In a month I will be an empty-nester...now I’m thinking…maybe I should take up writing country songs to fill my time. I might write me a sad sack song…like every other country songwriter writes…’bout some bad ass guy who done me wrong…and he a-better watch his back…cuz I’m a-gonna get even. Just another …done-me-wrong song.
Or maybe I’ll write one about partying. Love it! How I had a night out partying with Margarita, Martini and Mai Tai…and they done me wrong…so now I’m a-gonna get even…just another…done-me-wrong song.
Once you get the formula down…everyone is a dang country songwriter. Nashville, here I come. Move over Taylor Swift.
Most country songs are fun…they talk about barbecue, beer and babes. Or they talk about trucks, tires, and tomatoes (okay…that’s the PG version) I could have mentioned a word that rhymes with Zits. Hehehe. Or they talk about heartstrings, heartache, or heartbreakers.
Taylor Swift is the princess of country music right now. How old is she anyway? 12? I realize that she does have enormous talent…but the only problem is, if you listen to the words of her songs…they are all about the same thing. About how she’s the girl in school who longs for the boy who doesn’t notice her. Cripe…she’s sitting right next to him…and for some reason he's clueless that the prettiest girl in school is all whack job over him...with tears on her guitar. Boo hoo Taylor, grow up.
Sorry Taylor Swift fans. I admit, that’s not fair…that’s what Taylor is doing…she’s growing up. I take that back.
In a month I will be an empty-nester...now I’m thinking…maybe I should take up writing country songs to fill my time. I might write me a sad sack song…like every other country songwriter writes…’bout some bad ass guy who done me wrong…and he a-better watch his back…cuz I’m a-gonna get even. Just another …done-me-wrong song.
Or maybe I’ll write one about partying. Love it! How I had a night out partying with Margarita, Martini and Mai Tai…and they done me wrong…so now I’m a-gonna get even…just another…done-me-wrong song.
Once you get the formula down…everyone is a dang country songwriter. Nashville, here I come. Move over Taylor Swift.
Friday, July 24, 2009
It's All About the Voice
There has been so much fuss made about Susan Boyle's looks. About what she used to look like…versus…what she currently looks like. Personally, I don’t care what she looks like. It’s all about the voice.
I wonder if Susan Boyle has the voice box to be the “new” Barbra Streisand? Granted, there is only one Barbra...who happens to be my all time favorite. I've been a Streisand fan since I was in my twenties (only last week). I was a B.S. freak. I loved anything and everything Barbra. But Susan Boyle is quite promising.
I hear Susan Boyle is coming out with a CD in the fall. I think Susan Boyle’s voice is so beautiful that if she sings the standards, I could also become a S.B. freak. Interesting…. Barbra Streisand's intials and Susan Boyle’s initials are the same…but different. (You know what I mean.)
“They” say Susan Boyle has changed and gone “glam.” I say, “What’s the big darn dealio?” Take a look at all the different transformations of the contestants on the show, American Idol. I think you should be able to improve your appearance without it being seen as a negative. Let’s Face it…those unruly eyebrows should never be seen on anyone…unless, of course, you are Andy Rooney. I think most of us would entertain the idea of a makeover…why wouldn’t Susan Boyle?
Plus…it’s not like she’s had any lifts, tucks or lipo. She basically took care of a little grooming… got a more modern haircut…hair color…and some make-up.
For some reason people want to keep her in a box. The Susan Boyle box of frumpy clothing, bushy eyebrows, and ratty hair. Is that fair? I say, let her out of the box and let her decide what she wants to look like. It all about the voice, anyway. She’s already proven…it’s not about her looks.
I wonder if Susan Boyle has the voice box to be the “new” Barbra Streisand? Granted, there is only one Barbra...who happens to be my all time favorite. I've been a Streisand fan since I was in my twenties (only last week). I was a B.S. freak. I loved anything and everything Barbra. But Susan Boyle is quite promising.
I hear Susan Boyle is coming out with a CD in the fall. I think Susan Boyle’s voice is so beautiful that if she sings the standards, I could also become a S.B. freak. Interesting…. Barbra Streisand's intials and Susan Boyle’s initials are the same…but different. (You know what I mean.)
“They” say Susan Boyle has changed and gone “glam.” I say, “What’s the big darn dealio?” Take a look at all the different transformations of the contestants on the show, American Idol. I think you should be able to improve your appearance without it being seen as a negative. Let’s Face it…those unruly eyebrows should never be seen on anyone…unless, of course, you are Andy Rooney. I think most of us would entertain the idea of a makeover…why wouldn’t Susan Boyle?
Plus…it’s not like she’s had any lifts, tucks or lipo. She basically took care of a little grooming… got a more modern haircut…hair color…and some make-up.
For some reason people want to keep her in a box. The Susan Boyle box of frumpy clothing, bushy eyebrows, and ratty hair. Is that fair? I say, let her out of the box and let her decide what she wants to look like. It all about the voice, anyway. She’s already proven…it’s not about her looks.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Blogus Interruptus
If you’ve read my blog with any regularity, you may have noticed that recently I have come down with a condition. The condition is an interruption in blogging…otherwise known as blogus interruptus…a failure to be regular.
There will be times this summer when my blogs will be irregular and lacking. Don’t worry they won’t be lacking…in uncanny wit and imagination (yep)…and they won’t be lacking in pro’s prose…AND they definitely won’t be lacking in dot dot dots…BUT they will lacking in numbers. The cause for this condition is due to the season…summertime.
“Summertime and the living is easy” ….sing with me. It’s the time to relax, sleep late, take walks on the beach, and take a serious series of katnaps…in the hammock, on the lawn, on the porch, on the beach. Anyway, all this activity might keep me away from habitual blogging…so I won’t be as regular.
Besides, I must admit the other reason for blogus interruptus is that when I’m away at the beach…my blog chair doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t have the same comfy cozy fit with my butt…you know, the way an ole shoe fits your foot…all broken-in and soft like butta. My beach blog chair feels stiff and foreign…so it impedes the flow of creative thoughts. I’m basically like the Nile River which flows from south to north…my creative thoughts flow from my seat to my head.
The other MAJOR factor leading to blogus interrupus is simple: the sun is shining.
In order to get through this period of blogus interruptus, there will be times when I will feel compelled to post an old blog…a blog drudged up from the bowels of previous blog posts…and dusted off to look like new. And then there will be other days…when my blog will look like the usual…out to lunch.
Blogus Interruptus, however, is a temporary condition and will be reversed when summertime has ended.
I look forward to getting over my condition of bloggus interuptus soon…so you and I can become regular again.
There will be times this summer when my blogs will be irregular and lacking. Don’t worry they won’t be lacking…in uncanny wit and imagination (yep)…and they won’t be lacking in pro’s prose…AND they definitely won’t be lacking in dot dot dots…BUT they will lacking in numbers. The cause for this condition is due to the season…summertime.
“Summertime and the living is easy” ….sing with me. It’s the time to relax, sleep late, take walks on the beach, and take a serious series of katnaps…in the hammock, on the lawn, on the porch, on the beach. Anyway, all this activity might keep me away from habitual blogging…so I won’t be as regular.
Besides, I must admit the other reason for blogus interruptus is that when I’m away at the beach…my blog chair doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t have the same comfy cozy fit with my butt…you know, the way an ole shoe fits your foot…all broken-in and soft like butta. My beach blog chair feels stiff and foreign…so it impedes the flow of creative thoughts. I’m basically like the Nile River which flows from south to north…my creative thoughts flow from my seat to my head.
The other MAJOR factor leading to blogus interrupus is simple: the sun is shining.
In order to get through this period of blogus interruptus, there will be times when I will feel compelled to post an old blog…a blog drudged up from the bowels of previous blog posts…and dusted off to look like new. And then there will be other days…when my blog will look like the usual…out to lunch.
Blogus Interruptus, however, is a temporary condition and will be reversed when summertime has ended.
I look forward to getting over my condition of bloggus interuptus soon…so you and I can become regular again.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Speed Perspective
I would not say I am a speed freak and have the need for speed. But like everyone, sometimes I can get going a little too fast. It’s a beautiful day…and I’m singing to the radio. Before I know it, I am going 10-15 mph over the speed limit. Yikes, a cop could be anywhere….
The thing that yanks me is when I am moving right along and come up behind someone driving slowly … someone who ruins my momentum. The person is driving the posted speed limit, but it seems like he's hardly moving…so I brake and think the ole Codger is a pain in the (_!_). Now, I am stuck on some small country road going exactly 30 mph. I am thinking of a few choice words for the man in front of me. I get a little closer to his bumper… “Do you see me crawling up your tail pipe, Codger?”
The next thing I know, we go over a hill and I see a Cop hiding on the side of the road behind some bushes. But he can’t pull me over…I am going the speed limit. I am such a law abiding citizen.
Now all of a sudden, I like the ole guy in front of me. Codger saved me. I don’t have to sweat it out and keep checking my rearview mirror…thinking at any moment, the blue-lights and siren are headed my way. (Like last week.) I am so happy with Codge that I want to make him my BFF…give him a pat on the back…Thata boy. I want to hug the guy….
Until after the next 10 miles…Codger is still going exactly 30 mph. I have had enough of this crap. “Come on, you slow son-of-a-gun….put some lead in it…get your butt moving…I don’t have all day!”
It is funny how quickly things can change with perspective.
The thing that yanks me is when I am moving right along and come up behind someone driving slowly … someone who ruins my momentum. The person is driving the posted speed limit, but it seems like he's hardly moving…so I brake and think the ole Codger is a pain in the (_!_). Now, I am stuck on some small country road going exactly 30 mph. I am thinking of a few choice words for the man in front of me. I get a little closer to his bumper… “Do you see me crawling up your tail pipe, Codger?”
The next thing I know, we go over a hill and I see a Cop hiding on the side of the road behind some bushes. But he can’t pull me over…I am going the speed limit. I am such a law abiding citizen.
Now all of a sudden, I like the ole guy in front of me. Codger saved me. I don’t have to sweat it out and keep checking my rearview mirror…thinking at any moment, the blue-lights and siren are headed my way. (Like last week.) I am so happy with Codge that I want to make him my BFF…give him a pat on the back…Thata boy. I want to hug the guy….
Until after the next 10 miles…Codger is still going exactly 30 mph. I have had enough of this crap. “Come on, you slow son-of-a-gun….put some lead in it…get your butt moving…I don’t have all day!”
It is funny how quickly things can change with perspective.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Weenies Only
You’ve heard of 3 dog night…right? How about a 68 dog day afternoon?
68 is the number it took to win the Nathan’s Famous July Fourth International Eating Contest. That’s 68 hot dogs baby…buns and all. The winner was Joey Chesnut for the 3rd year in a row…a three peat weenie, I mean winner…same thing.
He ate 68 wieners in 10 minutes. That’s crazy. I don’t think I could eat that in 10 days. Maybe I could in 10 years…which would be roughly 7 doggers a year…but that’s probably pushin’ the wiener casing.
The winner did have an advantage…he’s a professional eater. His other accomplishments include: 7.5 lbs. buffalo chicken wings in 12 minutes (hopefully mild…for his sake) and 47 grilled cheese sandwiches in 10 minutes. (Why couldn’t I have been born a professional eater?) That almost makes the contest unfair to all the other wiener hopefuls. What chance in hell did they have to win the contest with only an occasional pig-out session under their belts?
And the big prize? 20,000 dollars. I think the prize should come with a tub of Tums and a few gallons of Imodium. I guess 20,000 bucks was not a bad pay-out for 10 minutes of noshing, but you have to know, that guy will keep the bathroom Occupado for at least a week.
I did a little research on the hot dog and found that the earliest record of a hot dog type of product dates back to 1500 B.C. in Babylonia. The early forms were made by grinding up meat, and stuffing it in animal intestines and cooking it over a fire. Try not to think of that next time you cozy up to a Frank. Any Frank.
Then I read further…about how hot dogs were made. Trust me…you would not want to tour Nathan’s Famous or Oscar Meyer while they were in production. I have a quick and responsive gagging reflex, so I know better than that. Maybe that’s how Lady Ga Ga ended up with her name…she watched a weenie in the making.
I guess the contest is a really BIG wiener deal for some, especially if you’re into watching crazies cram mashed-up soggy dogs and buns into their mouths.
FRANKLY, I don’t give a damn.
68 is the number it took to win the Nathan’s Famous July Fourth International Eating Contest. That’s 68 hot dogs baby…buns and all. The winner was Joey Chesnut for the 3rd year in a row…a three peat weenie, I mean winner…same thing.
He ate 68 wieners in 10 minutes. That’s crazy. I don’t think I could eat that in 10 days. Maybe I could in 10 years…which would be roughly 7 doggers a year…but that’s probably pushin’ the wiener casing.
The winner did have an advantage…he’s a professional eater. His other accomplishments include: 7.5 lbs. buffalo chicken wings in 12 minutes (hopefully mild…for his sake) and 47 grilled cheese sandwiches in 10 minutes. (Why couldn’t I have been born a professional eater?) That almost makes the contest unfair to all the other wiener hopefuls. What chance in hell did they have to win the contest with only an occasional pig-out session under their belts?
And the big prize? 20,000 dollars. I think the prize should come with a tub of Tums and a few gallons of Imodium. I guess 20,000 bucks was not a bad pay-out for 10 minutes of noshing, but you have to know, that guy will keep the bathroom Occupado for at least a week.
I did a little research on the hot dog and found that the earliest record of a hot dog type of product dates back to 1500 B.C. in Babylonia. The early forms were made by grinding up meat, and stuffing it in animal intestines and cooking it over a fire. Try not to think of that next time you cozy up to a Frank. Any Frank.
Then I read further…about how hot dogs were made. Trust me…you would not want to tour Nathan’s Famous or Oscar Meyer while they were in production. I have a quick and responsive gagging reflex, so I know better than that. Maybe that’s how Lady Ga Ga ended up with her name…she watched a weenie in the making.
I guess the contest is a really BIG wiener deal for some, especially if you’re into watching crazies cram mashed-up soggy dogs and buns into their mouths.
FRANKLY, I don’t give a damn.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
The Best of the Worst
Did you see the story online about the man who won the bad-writing contest? The contest was to write the best worst opening line. It was named “in honor” of the English novelist George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, who wrote the opening line, “It was a dark and stormy night.” It seems from the winning entry that run-on sentences are King. Here’s the 2009 winner:
"Folks say that if you listen real close at the height of the full moon, when the wind is blowin' off Nantucket Sound from the nor' east and the dogs are howlin' for no earthly reason, you can hear the awful screams of the crew of the "Ellie May," a sturdy whaler Captained by John McTavish; for it was on just such a night when the rum was flowin' and, Davey Jones be damned, big John brought his men on deck for the first of several screaming contests."
I wish I had known about that contest before it was already over. If I had a heads-up, I think I would have had a leg-up on my competition…because I pretty much write nothin’ but bad,bad sentences…plus…run-ons are my specialty.
I suppose there is always next year’s contest. I will have to work on perfecting the best worst sentence ever…so please bare/bear (which is it?) with me while I give it a try:
The rays from the dawn cracked morning burned through the bedroom window awakening Kat from her eight hour katnap to rise and retreat into the clutches of her computer where she placed her growing and decrepit ass into her tired and decrepit blog chair; determined to write an entertaining blog; all the while, fruitless in numerous attempts at writing an opening sentence that would deem capable of holding the attention of a mute, or rather it should be said, mite; she proceeded awkwardly onward; foraging for ideas, attempting a blog that would be deemed as perfection in the eyes of her single blog reader, when she arrived at a newfound sense of calm as the realization of her pursuits would inevitably be elusive; lest not impossible, as her writing abilities are not that much different from that of her four-legged dog, Duncandog, who has been caged, unwillingly in a kennel for a week; and who, using his abilities and capabilities of sending out Karma, has bestowed unimaginable excessive unrelenting Karma on Kat so that she would never be successful in attaining blog perfection, let alone a blog that would be considered mediocre, as it is widely known that bad writing is the bane of Kat’s existence.
Maybe my sentence should be shorter...the run-ons…of my run-ons…have run-ons. Heck, if I can't be the winner of the contest...maybe I'll have a shot at...Run-on Up.
"Folks say that if you listen real close at the height of the full moon, when the wind is blowin' off Nantucket Sound from the nor' east and the dogs are howlin' for no earthly reason, you can hear the awful screams of the crew of the "Ellie May," a sturdy whaler Captained by John McTavish; for it was on just such a night when the rum was flowin' and, Davey Jones be damned, big John brought his men on deck for the first of several screaming contests."
I wish I had known about that contest before it was already over. If I had a heads-up, I think I would have had a leg-up on my competition…because I pretty much write nothin’ but bad,bad sentences…plus…run-ons are my specialty.
I suppose there is always next year’s contest. I will have to work on perfecting the best worst sentence ever…so please bare/bear (which is it?) with me while I give it a try:
The rays from the dawn cracked morning burned through the bedroom window awakening Kat from her eight hour katnap to rise and retreat into the clutches of her computer where she placed her growing and decrepit ass into her tired and decrepit blog chair; determined to write an entertaining blog; all the while, fruitless in numerous attempts at writing an opening sentence that would deem capable of holding the attention of a mute, or rather it should be said, mite; she proceeded awkwardly onward; foraging for ideas, attempting a blog that would be deemed as perfection in the eyes of her single blog reader, when she arrived at a newfound sense of calm as the realization of her pursuits would inevitably be elusive; lest not impossible, as her writing abilities are not that much different from that of her four-legged dog, Duncandog, who has been caged, unwillingly in a kennel for a week; and who, using his abilities and capabilities of sending out Karma, has bestowed unimaginable excessive unrelenting Karma on Kat so that she would never be successful in attaining blog perfection, let alone a blog that would be considered mediocre, as it is widely known that bad writing is the bane of Kat’s existence.
Maybe my sentence should be shorter...the run-ons…of my run-ons…have run-ons. Heck, if I can't be the winner of the contest...maybe I'll have a shot at...Run-on Up.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Kat's Blog Light
Light, Light, Light.
Everything has gone Light.
They’ve taken the calories out…the fat out…carbs out…trans fat out…the sugar out.
Seeing everything has gone Light happy, I’ve decided to conjure up my own light…similar to a Light Beer. I’ve concocted Kat’s Blog Light.
When you read Kat’s Blog Light…you will be less full of the original Kat Blog. And more satisfied.
Yes…you will see that Kat’s Blog Light will have more readability. Within the first paragraph, you will experience its great taste. You will experience the taste of pure filtered blog material….rich and smooth.
I promise the new Kat’s Blog Light will be everything you’ve wanted in a blog. And Less. Less verbiage. Less doublespeak. Less sarcasm.
It will be the champagne of blogs. It will have tastes as good as its name: Katstaleof5.blogspot.com
If you’ve got the time…I’ve got the blog. Lose the absurdity from the original…not the taste.
Kat’s Blog Light, however, does come with a warning…..
Warning: Excessive Kat’s Blog Light may cause blurry vision, dizziness, and impaired judgment. Proceed with caution when reading.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
P...as in PaulA
With numbers 0 through 9…there are a finite number of combinations that can be put together for confirmation numbers or order numbers. So the 26 letters of the alphabet are often used to increase the different numbers of combinations. (Oh, that sounds exciting Kat…what else ya got?)
Sometimes some of the letters sound similar to each other when they are read out loud…especially over the phone…especially over my cell phone with Verizon service. So when a person at a customer call center reads them back..they will relate the letter with a name to eliminate any confusion…so you get them right. That way “P” doesn’t get mixed up with “T”…and “V” doesn’t get confused with “B”. (OMG Kat, still very boring…what else ya got?)
Okay, Here’s the good part.
Recently I called an airline to request my forgotten confirmation number and was connected with a woman in India. Actually she didn’t tell me she was from India…but I figured it out cuz I have a good ear for accents…and I think they have all the airline customer service jobs locked up. Anyway, while on the phone, I wanted to ask her my burning question: “What do you think of the movie ‘Slumdog Millionaire’?” But I figured she was probably too busy to discuss the movie. And I figured she probably would think I was an ass. So I made the decision to not look like an ass.
After she carefully read my confirmation number to me over the phone: PR5WVO3..she clarified the letters:
P…as in Pierre.
R…as in Romeo.
5.
W…as in Whisky.
V…as in Victor.
O…as in Oscar.
3.
Pierre? Romeo? OMG who uses those names? I found it amusing that the different names she used to clarify the letters actually confused me. I had to ask her to repeat the names so I could understand what she was saying. I must say her choice of whiskey confused me, but it’s a good choice… straight…on ice.
If I worked in a call center in India or Scranton…I would make it simple for people:
P…as in PaulA.
R…as in Rum.
W…as in Wine.
V…as in Vodka.
O…as in Ouzo.
I wonder how long I would be employed?
(Hey, that’s all I got.)
Sometimes some of the letters sound similar to each other when they are read out loud…especially over the phone…especially over my cell phone with Verizon service. So when a person at a customer call center reads them back..they will relate the letter with a name to eliminate any confusion…so you get them right. That way “P” doesn’t get mixed up with “T”…and “V” doesn’t get confused with “B”. (OMG Kat, still very boring…what else ya got?)
Okay, Here’s the good part.
Recently I called an airline to request my forgotten confirmation number and was connected with a woman in India. Actually she didn’t tell me she was from India…but I figured it out cuz I have a good ear for accents…and I think they have all the airline customer service jobs locked up. Anyway, while on the phone, I wanted to ask her my burning question: “What do you think of the movie ‘Slumdog Millionaire’?” But I figured she was probably too busy to discuss the movie. And I figured she probably would think I was an ass. So I made the decision to not look like an ass.
After she carefully read my confirmation number to me over the phone: PR5WVO3..she clarified the letters:
P…as in Pierre.
R…as in Romeo.
5.
W…as in Whisky.
V…as in Victor.
O…as in Oscar.
3.
Pierre? Romeo? OMG who uses those names? I found it amusing that the different names she used to clarify the letters actually confused me. I had to ask her to repeat the names so I could understand what she was saying. I must say her choice of whiskey confused me, but it’s a good choice… straight…on ice.
If I worked in a call center in India or Scranton…I would make it simple for people:
P…as in PaulA.
R…as in Rum.
W…as in Wine.
V…as in Vodka.
O…as in Ouzo.
I wonder how long I would be employed?
(Hey, that’s all I got.)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Farewell King of Pop
I’m bad….you’re “Bad”…we’re all talking about Michael Jackson nonstop…and if you’re like me…you “Don’t stop Til You Get Enough.”
I don’t want to “Beat It” over and over…but Michael Jackson is a music legend and it’s only “Human Nature” that we want to talk about him, play his songs, and remember him after his untimely death at age 50…leaving everyone in a “State of Shock.”
Today is the memorial service for Michael Jackson at the Staples Center in LA. It doesn’t matter if you’re “Black or White”…whether you’re “Billie Jean,” “Ben,” “Dirty Diana”, or some "P.Y.T.(Pretty Young Thing)"…people are getting together today to either “Cry” or celebrate his life.
Michael Jackson was loved worldwide. His music found a way to bring people together and to “Heal The World.” Those of you out there who loved Michael Jackson know that “You Are Not Alone.”
We “Remember the Time” when we first heard a young MJ with the Jackson 5 who easily took the stage and limelight without any nerves or “Butterflies.” From then on, he never had any privacy in his life and I’m sure there were countless times he wanted to “Scream” and yell “Leave Me Alone.”
Over the last few years…when it came down to the “Man in the Mirror”…Michael had become a controversial figure…some thinking he was “Dangerous”...a “Smooth Criminal" and others thinking he was a brillant artist…a music icon. Regardless, of your position…his amazing talent and artistry earned him the title of ‘King of Pop.’
Whenever you hear a Michael Jackson song…it makes you want to “Get On The Floor” and “Shake Your Body” …it makes you feel like you “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’.
Not only was his music "Workin' Day and Night"…his music videos were always a “Thriller” with their innovative and “Off The Wall” revolutionary approach to telling a story and creating a short film.
As one of the millions and millions of Michael Jackson fans “I Can’t Help It”…but I am going to miss him "For All Time." Like other fans around the world, I feel that Michael had a lot of music left to give and has “Gone Too Soon.”
As Michael Jackson fans…world over…“We Are The World” and today we remember, celebrate, and say goodbye to the 'King of Pop.'
Farewell Michael...We have loved every song, every dance, and every chance to “Rock With You.”
“Can You Feel It?”
I don’t want to “Beat It” over and over…but Michael Jackson is a music legend and it’s only “Human Nature” that we want to talk about him, play his songs, and remember him after his untimely death at age 50…leaving everyone in a “State of Shock.”
Today is the memorial service for Michael Jackson at the Staples Center in LA. It doesn’t matter if you’re “Black or White”…whether you’re “Billie Jean,” “Ben,” “Dirty Diana”, or some "P.Y.T.(Pretty Young Thing)"…people are getting together today to either “Cry” or celebrate his life.
Michael Jackson was loved worldwide. His music found a way to bring people together and to “Heal The World.” Those of you out there who loved Michael Jackson know that “You Are Not Alone.”
We “Remember the Time” when we first heard a young MJ with the Jackson 5 who easily took the stage and limelight without any nerves or “Butterflies.” From then on, he never had any privacy in his life and I’m sure there were countless times he wanted to “Scream” and yell “Leave Me Alone.”
Over the last few years…when it came down to the “Man in the Mirror”…Michael had become a controversial figure…some thinking he was “Dangerous”...a “Smooth Criminal" and others thinking he was a brillant artist…a music icon. Regardless, of your position…his amazing talent and artistry earned him the title of ‘King of Pop.’
Whenever you hear a Michael Jackson song…it makes you want to “Get On The Floor” and “Shake Your Body” …it makes you feel like you “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’.
Not only was his music "Workin' Day and Night"…his music videos were always a “Thriller” with their innovative and “Off The Wall” revolutionary approach to telling a story and creating a short film.
As one of the millions and millions of Michael Jackson fans “I Can’t Help It”…but I am going to miss him "For All Time." Like other fans around the world, I feel that Michael had a lot of music left to give and has “Gone Too Soon.”
As Michael Jackson fans…world over…“We Are The World” and today we remember, celebrate, and say goodbye to the 'King of Pop.'
Farewell Michael...We have loved every song, every dance, and every chance to “Rock With You.”
“Can You Feel It?”
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sanford and Sons
Some people have the best lines when they get caught…caught in the act and need to come up with a statement to explain themselves. Take South Carolina Governor Sanford. (Hey, I think that’s what his wife said too.) I’m sure you’re familiar with Sanford, the recent politician to fall into the clutches of a woman (or a man in some cases) outside the marriage. Line them up like Dominos and watch them fall.
Governor Sanford was caught with his hand in the Argentinean cookie jar. (Yum. Yum.) It seems the family-values governor, father of four sons, was on a rendezvous weekend with his lover over Father’s Day. (The irony is uncanny.) Sanford has said that he had found love...to be differentiated from Client Number 9…Eliot Spitzer…the paying Domino.
Sanford’s exact lines: “This was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story. I will be able to die knowing I had met my soul mate.” Is that supposed to make things better? Actually, I don’t give a politician’s ass…I mean, rat’s ass (same thing) about who he falls in love with, but I would wonder about his character …the lies about hiking the Appalachian, leaving the country and not giving his whereabouts to his wife and staff, and possibly using tax payer money to travel to his rendezvous spots.
This guy has given “hiking the Appalachian trail” new meaning. It’s code for: I’m meeting my lover in a foreign country and forgetting I’m married for the next 3 days. I’ve always wondered why anyone would want to hike the Appalachian…hmmmmm….now it all makes sense to me.
I feel sorry for his wife and four sons. He has said that: “I will try to fall back in love with my wife again.” I think the chances of that happening are slim to never-gonna-happen-in-a-million years. Who’s to say his wife would want him. Especially after professing to the world that the other woman was his soul mate. What does that make his wife? A second-rate-chopped-liver-banana?
If I lived in the state of South Carolina I would have a problem with my Governor being so incredibly stupid…especially after seeing him on camera crying and professing his undying love for his mistress. Boo hoo. Don’t cry for me Argentina…
If the Gov. had any brains, he would act like the original Sanford from “Sanford and Son”….you know the classic 70’s TV show with Redd Foxx. Gov. Sanford might get out of all of his trouble and gain some sympathy...like the original Fred Sanford…if he grabbed his chest, stumbled around, and exclaimed: “Ooooo….I can feel it….this is the big one.”
Maybe then, Sanford and sons…and his wife….could get back on track.
Governor Sanford was caught with his hand in the Argentinean cookie jar. (Yum. Yum.) It seems the family-values governor, father of four sons, was on a rendezvous weekend with his lover over Father’s Day. (The irony is uncanny.) Sanford has said that he had found love...to be differentiated from Client Number 9…Eliot Spitzer…the paying Domino.
Sanford’s exact lines: “This was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story. I will be able to die knowing I had met my soul mate.” Is that supposed to make things better? Actually, I don’t give a politician’s ass…I mean, rat’s ass (same thing) about who he falls in love with, but I would wonder about his character …the lies about hiking the Appalachian, leaving the country and not giving his whereabouts to his wife and staff, and possibly using tax payer money to travel to his rendezvous spots.
This guy has given “hiking the Appalachian trail” new meaning. It’s code for: I’m meeting my lover in a foreign country and forgetting I’m married for the next 3 days. I’ve always wondered why anyone would want to hike the Appalachian…hmmmmm….now it all makes sense to me.
I feel sorry for his wife and four sons. He has said that: “I will try to fall back in love with my wife again.” I think the chances of that happening are slim to never-gonna-happen-in-a-million years. Who’s to say his wife would want him. Especially after professing to the world that the other woman was his soul mate. What does that make his wife? A second-rate-chopped-liver-banana?
If I lived in the state of South Carolina I would have a problem with my Governor being so incredibly stupid…especially after seeing him on camera crying and professing his undying love for his mistress. Boo hoo. Don’t cry for me Argentina…
If the Gov. had any brains, he would act like the original Sanford from “Sanford and Son”….you know the classic 70’s TV show with Redd Foxx. Gov. Sanford might get out of all of his trouble and gain some sympathy...like the original Fred Sanford…if he grabbed his chest, stumbled around, and exclaimed: “Ooooo….I can feel it….this is the big one.”
Maybe then, Sanford and sons…and his wife….could get back on track.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Happy Birthday America
“Happy Birthday dear America…Happy Birthday to you.” Singing Happy Birthday to our country might seem a little corny…but definitely All-American.
I am darn proud to be an American…patriotism runs in my blood. I am the daughter of a U. S. Air Force Serviceman…retired after 20 years. As a military family we traveled the country and the world…moving every two years. You would think the constant acclimation would have been hard, but everyone else in the military community was doing the same thing.
The big question while living on an Air Force Base was always, “How long are you here for?”….kinda like doing time…hard time. The only hard time I remember was when we were separated from my dad. Remember the first line from the Marine’s Hymn... “From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli?” We lived there…the shores of Tripoli. Yep…We did time in Tripoli for two years.
I am proud to be from America…the Land of the Free, the Home of the Brave. Nothing makes me prouder than when I see a U.S. serviceman or servicewoman. I tear up at the very thought of young people willing to protect our freedom. Colinboy has a buddy who finished his Marines basic training and is heading off to Afghanistan to be a gunner on a tank. And our good friend, Joanie, has a son heading out in November. Godspeed to our young friends. I thank all the men and women who have volunteered to protect our freedom. Excuse me while I turn into Niagara Falls.
Growing up as a child on a military base, hearing the planes overhead every day, felt like my blanket…security. To this day, I get that same sense of comfort when I hear the roar from a plane’s engine.
I have mentioned before that I have dog tags…official tags given to us by the U.S Air Force. We wore them as kids when traveling. My dog tags are one of my most prized possessions. My kids were shocked and proud when they first saw them…shocked to see that their mom had Rappa tags…and proud that Rapppa katBreezy might be tight with Fifty Cent.
This is a beautiful country and we are so fortunate to live in this Land of Liberty. Now I’m going to step down from my soap box….and indulge in a little apple pie.
Happy Birthday, America.
I am darn proud to be an American…patriotism runs in my blood. I am the daughter of a U. S. Air Force Serviceman…retired after 20 years. As a military family we traveled the country and the world…moving every two years. You would think the constant acclimation would have been hard, but everyone else in the military community was doing the same thing.
The big question while living on an Air Force Base was always, “How long are you here for?”….kinda like doing time…hard time. The only hard time I remember was when we were separated from my dad. Remember the first line from the Marine’s Hymn... “From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli?” We lived there…the shores of Tripoli. Yep…We did time in Tripoli for two years.
I am proud to be from America…the Land of the Free, the Home of the Brave. Nothing makes me prouder than when I see a U.S. serviceman or servicewoman. I tear up at the very thought of young people willing to protect our freedom. Colinboy has a buddy who finished his Marines basic training and is heading off to Afghanistan to be a gunner on a tank. And our good friend, Joanie, has a son heading out in November. Godspeed to our young friends. I thank all the men and women who have volunteered to protect our freedom. Excuse me while I turn into Niagara Falls.
Growing up as a child on a military base, hearing the planes overhead every day, felt like my blanket…security. To this day, I get that same sense of comfort when I hear the roar from a plane’s engine.
I have mentioned before that I have dog tags…official tags given to us by the U.S Air Force. We wore them as kids when traveling. My dog tags are one of my most prized possessions. My kids were shocked and proud when they first saw them…shocked to see that their mom had Rappa tags…and proud that Rapppa katBreezy might be tight with Fifty Cent.
This is a beautiful country and we are so fortunate to live in this Land of Liberty. Now I’m going to step down from my soap box….and indulge in a little apple pie.
Happy Birthday, America.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Jayne Hits the Big 5-0!!!
Last Thursday, June 25th, was a big, big, HUGE day….it was my sister Jayne’s 50th birthday. I couldn’t let the ENORMOUS day pass without sending out birthday blog wishes!!!
I have compiled 50 wonderful qualities about my sister,
(affectionately known as Jayniebug):
She has a loving heart.
She has a loving and warm heart.
She has a loving and warm heart that beats regularly.
She has a smart mind.
She has a smart mind and a smart-ass :)
She’s good natured.
She’s good natured and loves nature.
She’s naturally good natured and loves nature.
She’s fun.
She’s fun loving.
She’s loves to have fun.
She’s skilled.
She’s precise and exact.
She’s precisely skilled at being exact.
She reads my blog.
She says she reads my blog.
She better read my blog.
She’s particular.
She’s particularly particular.
She’s particularly particular about particulars.
She’s genuine.
She’s not fake.
She’s genuinely not fake.
She’s a good aunt.
She’s a great aunt.
She’s a bug…not an ant.
She has a family who loves her.
She has a family who loves and adores her.
She’s giving.
She’s generous.
She’ll generously give you her shirt.
She’ll generously give you her shirt off her back.
She’s a good friend.
She’ll generously give a good friend her good shirt off her back.
She’s honest and truthful.
She’s honestly truthful.
She’s sentimental.
She’s mentally sentimental.
She’s caring.
She’s caring and sympathetic.
She’s caring and sympathetic to all creatures…big and small.
She sounds like a girl scout.
She was once a girl scout.
She never cared for the girl scouts.
She can be corny.
She once ate eleven ears of corn.
She has a sister who’s crazy.
She has a sister who’s crazy for her.
She has a sister who’s crazy for her and wishes her a "Happy Birthday."
She has a sister who’s crazy for her and wishes her a "Happy 50th Birthday…and 50 more."
I have compiled 50 wonderful qualities about my sister,
(affectionately known as Jayniebug):
She has a loving heart.
She has a loving and warm heart.
She has a loving and warm heart that beats regularly.
She has a smart mind.
She has a smart mind and a smart-ass :)
She’s good natured.
She’s good natured and loves nature.
She’s naturally good natured and loves nature.
She’s fun.
She’s fun loving.
She’s loves to have fun.
She’s skilled.
She’s precise and exact.
She’s precisely skilled at being exact.
She reads my blog.
She says she reads my blog.
She better read my blog.
She’s particular.
She’s particularly particular.
She’s particularly particular about particulars.
She’s genuine.
She’s not fake.
She’s genuinely not fake.
She’s a good aunt.
She’s a great aunt.
She’s a bug…not an ant.
She has a family who loves her.
She has a family who loves and adores her.
She’s giving.
She’s generous.
She’ll generously give you her shirt.
She’ll generously give you her shirt off her back.
She’s a good friend.
She’ll generously give a good friend her good shirt off her back.
She’s honest and truthful.
She’s honestly truthful.
She’s sentimental.
She’s mentally sentimental.
She’s caring.
She’s caring and sympathetic.
She’s caring and sympathetic to all creatures…big and small.
She sounds like a girl scout.
She was once a girl scout.
She never cared for the girl scouts.
She can be corny.
She once ate eleven ears of corn.
She has a sister who’s crazy.
She has a sister who’s crazy for her.
She has a sister who’s crazy for her and wishes her a "Happy Birthday."
She has a sister who’s crazy for her and wishes her a "Happy 50th Birthday…and 50 more."
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Red Sox Game-Drizzle and Distractions
There’s nothing like wearing your team’s colors and attending a Major League Baseball game…America’s favorite past time. This past Father’s Day, PaulA, Colinboy, Wishy and I, dressed in our red shirts, joined 39,000 other fans and fathers at a Boston Red Sox game. (We missed our Big C.) Red Sox vs the Braves. And the Sox beat the braves….na, na, na, na, na.
Go Red Sox. Go Red Sox. I’m doing the wave right now, but having a hard time keeping it going. Note to self: need more than one person to do the wave.
There’s nothing like going to a game at Fenway Park…even bad weather can’t dampen a true Red Sox fan’s spirits. We drove to the game in the drizzle…sat in the drizzle…watched the Red Sox win in the drizzle…and ate our faces off in the drizzle. It was a great game…drizzle and all. Now that I think about it, everything is enhanced when you add drizzle…especially chocolate drizzle, my favorite.
When I’m in the ballpark…I’m distracted by everything and everyone around me…which is a good thing. That way if things start to go South, I’m not feeling the pain. Watching the Red Sox on television at home, I’m more focused on every hit, every run, every steal, every error. But in the ballpark I have a lot of distractions…mainly due to the fact that…all the knuckleballs are not on the field.
There is usually a knuckleball head sitting in front of me. You know the type…there is one knuckleball head…or a thousand knuckleball heads in every ballpark in America. Their main mission is to be annoying to everyone around them…for the next 3 to 4 hours and extra innings…if need be. First they’re up...then they’re down…then they try to squeeze play by you. Could someone just throw them out?
Another great distraction is the food. The food is so much better in the ballpark than at home. Bring on the hot dogs, popcorn, peanuts, beer. I ate all the junk food my stomach could handle without bringing back the 8th in the 9th.
You just gotta love the peanut vendor…throwing his nuts at people from 6 rows away. And the beer vendor…yelling in his Boston accent: Get ye be-ah he-ah. And the other knuckleball heads behind me…spilling be-ah and crackin' nuts on my red shirt.
One of my all time favorite distractions is the music they play between innings. It sounds great booming over the loud speakers. I even love the rap: “gonna party like it’s my birthday.” But my all time fav is singing “Take me out to the Ballgame” in the 7th inning and “Sweet Caroline” in the 8th. They even played “Joy to the World” …not the Christmas version, but the “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” version…which I hadn’t heard in ribbits of years. It’s hard to not break out in song.
Nothing like an afternoon in Fenway Park watching the Red Sox play…drizzle and all. Wicked pissah.
Go Red Sox. Go Red Sox. I’m doing the wave right now, but having a hard time keeping it going. Note to self: need more than one person to do the wave.
There’s nothing like going to a game at Fenway Park…even bad weather can’t dampen a true Red Sox fan’s spirits. We drove to the game in the drizzle…sat in the drizzle…watched the Red Sox win in the drizzle…and ate our faces off in the drizzle. It was a great game…drizzle and all. Now that I think about it, everything is enhanced when you add drizzle…especially chocolate drizzle, my favorite.
When I’m in the ballpark…I’m distracted by everything and everyone around me…which is a good thing. That way if things start to go South, I’m not feeling the pain. Watching the Red Sox on television at home, I’m more focused on every hit, every run, every steal, every error. But in the ballpark I have a lot of distractions…mainly due to the fact that…all the knuckleballs are not on the field.
There is usually a knuckleball head sitting in front of me. You know the type…there is one knuckleball head…or a thousand knuckleball heads in every ballpark in America. Their main mission is to be annoying to everyone around them…for the next 3 to 4 hours and extra innings…if need be. First they’re up...then they’re down…then they try to squeeze play by you. Could someone just throw them out?
Another great distraction is the food. The food is so much better in the ballpark than at home. Bring on the hot dogs, popcorn, peanuts, beer. I ate all the junk food my stomach could handle without bringing back the 8th in the 9th.
You just gotta love the peanut vendor…throwing his nuts at people from 6 rows away. And the beer vendor…yelling in his Boston accent: Get ye be-ah he-ah. And the other knuckleball heads behind me…spilling be-ah and crackin' nuts on my red shirt.
One of my all time favorite distractions is the music they play between innings. It sounds great booming over the loud speakers. I even love the rap: “gonna party like it’s my birthday.” But my all time fav is singing “Take me out to the Ballgame” in the 7th inning and “Sweet Caroline” in the 8th. They even played “Joy to the World” …not the Christmas version, but the “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” version…which I hadn’t heard in ribbits of years. It’s hard to not break out in song.
Nothing like an afternoon in Fenway Park watching the Red Sox play…drizzle and all. Wicked pissah.
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