I follow former Top Chef finalist (I refuse to call anyone on that show a “cheftestant” unless I am saying it in a mocking tone, which this is not) Richard Blais on Twitter, and this morning he published a link to a recent posting of his over on Creative Loafing.

In a nutshell, he talks about his for-naught efforts at one Atlanta eatery on New Year’s Eve to transform it from Amateur Night to, well, Not Amateur Night. Suffice it to say his efforts failed as no one appreciated his inventive menu, his progressive service attitude, or anything else.  People wanted to watch the game.  No one wanted to eat caviar. Why?  Because folks who go out to dinner on holidays such as Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve, etc. are amateurs. They don’t “get it”.

Amateur night could be any Friday or Saturday night, when people who don’t usually dine out head out on the town to blow a paycheck. But the serious amateur nights are New Year’s Eve, Valentines Day, and Mother’s Day brunch. These are reserved for that special brand of customer, many of whom haven’t ventured into a restaurant since the previous holiday. It’s a night that shiesty restaurateurs gouge prices. A night when guests ask for ketchup with their aged rib eye. And also a night when burned out chefs retreat into ubiquitous schlock, and overly ambitious young chefs mistakenly puff their chests out…

At this point, you’re probably thinking I’m about to start in on a rant about how I most certainly am not an amateur and how dare that Richard Blais and his third-place finish judge me! Quite the contrary. I agree with the guy.

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Backstory: During last year’s jaunt to Hawaii, some service snafus resulted in Seth’s sending of a rather pointed email to the Turtle Bay Resort’s general manager. We weren’t looking for anything in return, but we’re of the opinion that management wants to know when their product/service/hotel is falling short of expectations. We’re frequent visitors, after all…and don’t want to see the place totally fall into a state of disarray.  A couple of weeks later, we got a certificate in the mail for a free dinner (excluding alcohol, but including gratuity) on our next visit at 21 Degrees North. We’ve stayed at the TBR many, many times over the years – both as registered guests at the hotel and at the privately-owned villas. We’ve avoided 21 Degrees North because, frankly, the reviews on both TripAdvisor and Yelp were mixed. But hey, a free meal on our next visit is still a free meal, right?

A couple of months ago as we were gearing up for this year’s trip, we started looking for the gift certificate. With all the furniture switch-outs last Fall and the total makeover of the office, it seemed to have developed legs and walked away. Couldn’t find it. Seth and I aren’t exactly candidates for Hoarders, so I knew it had to be around somewhere. After a solid couple days of looking everywhere, I finally found the certificate…bookmarking my place in one of my old textbooks.

In retrospect, we’re sort of wishing we hadn’t found it.

So far on this trip, my tummy has been very happy. VERY. We’ve enjoyed Round Table Pizza, ahi poke, miso soup for breakfast (!), delicious ramen from a local Waikiki hole-in-the-wall, and the night before last Seth grilled up some fantabulous locally-caught ono (or wahoo, depending on your inclination). Happy tummy = happy Stacy.

Last night we decided to take advantage of our free dinner at 21 Degrees North. We went in with incredibly low expectations, which made the actual meal even more of a disaster. You’d think with low expectations the bar for disappointment would be at an appropriate level, but no. The restaurant itself is actually really nice…a beautiful space. But, the food was terrible. Awful.

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We went and saw Revolutionary Road yesterday.  To say it was a downer of a movie would be an understatement…but then again, it wasn’t supposed to be Bride Wars – or even The War of the Roses - for that matter.  Have you read the book?  I highly suggest you do that first.

The movie was just as beautifully filmed and directed as the book was written.  But, it didn’t flow.  Entire sequences seemed disjointed to me (and to CU, who incidentally hasn’t read the book) and  some scenes just flat-out didn’t make sense.  Frank and April’s first nearly-knock down/drag out fight on the side of the road seemed to come out of nowhere on the screen, but had an appropriate lead-in and build-up in the book.  Things like that.

Kate Winslet was fantastic, and her ranking on my Favorite Actresses List continues to go up.  Have you seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?  Rent it….now.  Jim Carrey’s finest film…IMO.  Sadly, I was a little lukewarm on Leonardo DiCaprio as Frank Wheeler.  His highly dramatic scenes were indeed powerful, and his more tender scenes were equally affecting…but it was the stuff in the middle that seemed weird to me.

I find it interesting that with Mad Men and now Revolutionary Road, there has been a renewed interest in what used to seem like a fairly inocuous period of time.  The war was over…shouldn’t everyone be happy?  Kind of makes you look at Marion Cunningham a little differently now, wondering if she wasn’t knocking back martinis and boffing Big Al while Richie and Joanie were at school.

It’s a sad day for Snarkwife. Today folks, I am truly embarrassed to be a housewife in Collin County. The Dallas Morning News saw it fit to print an article on the front page titled, “Real Housewives of Collin County shop, shock and mock suburbia”.

You can read the article yourself. I couldn’t reprint any of it here without throwing up a little in my mouth. I kid, I kid.

It was one thing to read the article and roll my eyes at the DMN‘s obvious desperation for something “irreverent” and “sassy” to kick off the new year, but God almighty…could they have picked a worse blog? In reading the article and scanning a few posts, it only takes about ten seconds to see the blog for what it is – a crass outlet for some obviously angry, hate-mongering women who have a significant ax to grind. Just read the comments. I don’t even have to say anything, because what they write speaks for itself. They seem to dislike just about everyone, and I am rather mystified by their fascination with bitches and Glocks….and shanks and shivs. Maybe they know the lady down the street from me who killed her husband a couple of weeks ago.

Oh wait, I’m a “hater” if I say that. And in retrospect, maybe “ax to grind” wasn’t the right phrase to use. Oopsie.

The blogosphere is full of opinions and personalities, and that’s what makes it so wonderful. But, when I see an actual representative of the “legitimate” media give print space to such obvious crap…it makes me rather sad. I get the concept of satire. Believe me, I do. I guess my issue is with how these ladies are reacting to the reactions they’re getting since thrusting themselves into the spotlight. I don’t care what they write, but when they start telling women they’d be happier if they gave their husbands more blowjobs…eh. Really? That all you got? Is blowjobs one word? Two? A hyphenate?

I would imagine there are at least a hundred blogs written by real women in Collin County that could give the DFW metroplex a better view of what life is like north of 635. Instead, we’re directed to a blog where men are rewarded and punished with sex and vulgarities fly like the American flag in front of my home.

And…for the record, I had my fifteen minutes of fame in the Dallas Morning News three years ago. Front page, to boot. No one knew about it though, because I chose not to whore myself out for hits to my blog. In retrospect, maybe that was a bad move. Hmm.

Way to go, Dallas Morning News. First you destroy the innocence of children, and now this. For the life of me I can’t believe this is what you chose to give me, after you sent me a readers survey and I indicated I’d like to hear more about my community.

I’d cancel my subscription but Lord…I sure seem to be getting my money’s worth out of it lately in blog fodder.

Oh, you know it’s good if I immediately stop reading the paper and run in to the office to blog.

While reading the Dallas Morning News this morning, I took one pass on this letter to the editor and immediately flew into Snarkwife Outrage Mode…level 3. I really did fly…the newspaper floated up into the air and everything.

Re: “This movie is rated ‘Arf’,” Friday GuideDaily.

We made the mistake of taking our 7-year-old daughter to see Marley and Me, a PG-rated movie we thought would be an innocent story about a family’s connection to its dog. Unfortunately, what we saw was a movie that contained a stabbing, a miscarriage, skinny dipping and other sexual connotations, vulgar language and a scene that shows a dog being put to sleep by a veterinarian.

This is a very good movie for adults. Shouldn’t this type of subject matter be limited to PG-13 movies? If not, at least parents should be able to have confidence in their local news sources to give us enough information to make educated decisions about our children’s attendance. Joy Tipping’s movie review failed to give this kind of information.

Oh my God. You’re kidding, right?

Let’s take a look at the MPAA’s website and see what it has to say about the PG rating:

A PG-rated motion picture should be investigated by parents before they let their younger children attend. The PG rating indicates, in the view of the Rating Board, that parents may consider some material unsuitable for their children, and parents should make that decision.

The more mature themes in some PG-rated motion pictures may call for parental guidance. There may be some profanity and some depictions of violence or brief nudity. But these elements are not deemed so intense as to require that parents be strongly cautioned beyond the suggestion of parental guidance. There is no drug use content in a PG-rated motion picture.

And now, the PG-13 rating:

A PG-13 rating is a sterner warning by the Rating Board to parents to determine whether their children under age 13 should view the motion picture, as some material might not be suited for them. A PG-13 motion picture may go beyond the PG rating in theme, violence, nudity, sensuality, language, adult activities or other elements, but does not reach the restricted R category. The theme of the motion picture by itself will not result in a rating greater than PG-13, although depictions of activities related to a mature theme may result in a restricted rating for the motion picture. Any drug use will initially require at least a PG-13 rating. More than brief nudity will require at least a PG-13 rating, but such nudity in a PG-13 rated motion picture generally will not be sexually oriented. There may be depictions of violence in a PG-13 movie, but generally not both realistic and extreme or persistent violence. A motion picture’s single use of one of the harsher sexually-derived words, though only as an expletive, initially requires at least a PG-13 rating. More than one such expletive requires an R rating, as must even one of those words used in a sexual context. The Rating Board nevertheless may rate such a motion picture PG-13 if, based on a special vote by a two-thirds majority, the Raters feel that most American parents would believe that a PG-13 rating is appropriate because of the context or manner in which the words are used or because the use of those words in the motion picture is inconspicuous.

And finally…let’s take a look at the actual MPAA rating for the film Marley & Me, as displayed on the official film website:

See that? It says, “Thematic material, some suggestive content and language”.

Last time I checked, it wasn’t the responsibility of movie critics to outline every nook and cranny of a film’s plot so lazy parents don’t have to perform their own due diligence. I have to assume the writer of this letter is new to our planet, since he obviously didn’t read the book and clearly wasn’t aware of the “outcome” – although he did a damn good job of telling the entire DFW metroplex the overall plot of the film. I suppose he did this so other parents wouldn’t be caught off guard and have to actually explain anything uncomfortable to children like, “I know you heard that word in the film Austin, but we don’t use it in our household. Now, off you go.”

I suppose I could go a whole other way with this, too. Marley & Me is also the story of a loving, growing family and all of the associated ups and downs therein. It’s a story about love, life, and the loss of a treasured family member. All of the good points of the film completely disintegrated because a movie reviewer from the Dallas Morning News failed to tell them…in very explicit terms using small words, that it wasn’t just a live-action version of Clifford the Big, Red Dog.

In case you don’t know, if a dog is a character central to the plot of a book, film, or TV show…it is probably going to die. That’s a big reason I’m not hot on going to see the movie…I have a dog who has been in my life for 12 years, and I don’t need the sadness. Fortunately, I read the book three years ago or else I probably would have been mesmerized by Shiny, Cute Puppies and Owen Wilson to the point where I could no longer Google the actual movie. I would have been sideswiped and bamboozled like this poor letter writer!

I just find it really, really, really hard to believe that in this day and age someone can write a letter like this in an attempt to absolve himself of any culpability in the situation. Parents want the media, the government, and the community to stay out of the business of parenting their children yet as soon as said parents screw up…they whine that the media, the government, and the community should have done something…anything…to prevent them from being embarrassed or having to do the unspeakable like discuss an uncomfortable topic at a non-prearranged moment in time.

Sorry, pal. Sometimes you just have to wipe the egg off your face and move on, without misplacing blame or guilting others into taking responsibility for your oversight. It’s okay to not be perfect, and it’s okay to be vulnerable. That’s what makes us human. Marley & Me should have taught you that.

Facebook is an interesting place. Since joining last February, I’ve “friended” several former high school and college classmates and even an old college boyfriend. I’ve kicked more than a few asses in Scramble, and cried out in outrage with everyone else (baa!) when Old Facebook became New Facebook. At first, I “friended” a lot of people…most of whom were casual Internet acquaintances at best.

But, over the months…I’ve trimmed my Facebook friends list. If you were one of those downsized, you probably don’t even know it…because we weren’t that close to begin with. Apparently though, this is considered poor form according to a recent Wall Street Journal article:

JoAna Swan recently purged her profile on social-networking site Facebook Inc. of friends she hadn’t spoken to for a while. A week later, Ms. Swan, a 21-year-old student at Pace University in Manhattan, ran into a woman she had dropped.

Crammed next to Ms. Swan in an elevator on the way to class, the woman, an acquaintance from freshman year, called her out for “unfriending” her and asked what she had done to deserve it. Ms. Swan considered saying it was an accident, but then opted to be honest. “It’s nothing personal,” she recalls saying. “I just delete people I no longer talk to.”

A week later, she ran into the woman again, and decided to refriend her because, says Ms. Swan, “she seemed very offended by the whole thing.” She declined to name the woman, noting that it would “make things more awkward and turn into another whole drama-fest.”

Naturally, I’m keeping this specific instance in its proper context…as the woman involved is a college student and probably doesn’t understand the difference between Facebook Friends and Real World Friends. For me though, scaling down my Facebook friends list (and my Twitter “following” list, for that matter) was just part of my ongoing and continuous effort to eliminate unwanted “noise” in my life. If people with whom I don’t regularly engage in dialogue find that offensive…oh well.

There is one “friend” in particular on Facebook, with whom I thought I could reconnect. After all, she accepted my friend request…wasn’t that a reasonable assumption? After repeated attempts to make contact with no response whatsoever…I’m now contemplating dropping her from my friends list. I’m not thinking about it as a retaliatory move…but I can also take a hint. Maybe she’s just not that into me anymore, or didn’t want to be rude by ignoring my friend request. Regardless, it is what it is. Bottom line…I suppose I’m just not that into the whole voyeuristic environment of Facebook that comes with having 300+ friends. If you enjoy it – great. For me though, not my bag.

Now, I remember back in 2004 when I first started blogging and everyone’s #1 goal at the time was to get other bloggers to put you on their blogroll. Remember that? Reciprocal link fever…catch it! People would comment on my blog, and then expect me to add them because they asked me to or they wrote, “Great post…love your blog! Come stop by and visit me sometime!” Um, no. I linked to people I found interesting…not people who begged for it. Same for Facebook and Twitter. I was never one of those people who found a weird sense of pride in watching his/her Twitter “followers” count shoot up…primarily because the vast majority of most of my followers were either spam accounts or people who didn’t really care what I had to say.

Bottom line…if we used to be Facebook Friends but aren’t anymore, or if I used to follow you on Twitter but don’t anymore…there’s no reason to get angry or offended. Likewise, if my friends list drops from 66 to 5 in the next couple of days…then I’ll know there’s some truth to what I’ve just written…unless one of those folks who “de-friends” me is Capt. UberHusband. Then I’ll be kinda pissed.

Yeah, so…Capt. UberHusband and I have made a Old Year’s Resolution to go and see everything nominated for a Golden Globe this year…and ideally, the Oscars as well. I’m rather tired of sitting here in my living room, drinking my champagne on Oscar Night and feeling all hoity toity, and then realizing I’ve never seen half of the movies referenced. That whole “I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE” thing? Totally lost on me. Didn’t get it.

We’ve gone to see Slumdog Millionaire (awesome!) and Milk (awesome!), and today saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. In a sort-of word…meh. I had a really, really hard time with this movie. There were some aspects I loved, and other aspects I hated. I loved the love story between Benjamin and Daisy, once they got into the right sync in terms of places in their respective lives. Actually, now that I think about it…that was the only part I loved, and that likely had more to do with watching Brad Pitt than anything else.

What did I hate? I hated the subtle yet totally in-your-face supporting role of Katrina, the Hurricane That Ate N’awlins in 2005. Forget the fact that in the news reports at the end of the movie, they had the levees breaking before the hurricane even made landfall…it just seemed so…pointless. Capt. UberHusband thought maybe it was being used as a time reference (God knows the movie needed them, just to keep up with who was how old and when), but personally…I just saw it as a Hollywood/Brad Pitt propaganda opportunity. Besides, Brad doesn’t get a say anymore regarding N’awlins…since he and Angie moved out of the city about six weeks after moving in.

Plus…the similarities between Forrest Gump and Benjamin Button are just too numerous to mention. Sadly, we didn’t get to see John Lennon or JFK, but Lieutenant Dan/Cap’n Mike (“But you ain’t got no legs, Cap’n Mike!”), Jenny/Daisy, shrimp boat/tugboat, awesome non-biological mom/awesome biological mom, and Mom works in a boarding house/Mom works in a nursing home are just a few of the crossover features. I mean really, it’s a damn good thing Julia Ormond doesn’t look more like Haley Joel Osment. Although, their names are kind of the same.

Speaking of which…how is it that a makeup crew that could transform Cate Blanchett from a 23-year old ballerina muse to a 70-ish old woman and Brad Pitt from a 70-ish old man to a teenage boy not be able to make Julia Ormond’s character look 37? Her character was born in ’68, the movie takes place in 2005 (Could you tell? There were Katrina references left and right!)…and she looked 45 years old. Either I look amazing for my age, or someone used up all the Age Line Eraser on Benjamin.

So I guess when all is written and done…I didn’t like the movie that much after all. Curiosity satisfied.

Next on the list…Frost/Nixon and Revolutionary Road.

As I mentioned in my last post, I found myself (yes, I accepted the job offers and yes, I take responsibility) in jobs which sort of depleted my internal Snarkwife Account. Over the years, the rate of depletion accelerated to the point where dadgummit…I just didn’t feel like myself anymore. That zip, that zest, that how-do-you-say “enthusiasm” for life. I used to be pretty outspoken. I questioned authority. I wasn’t ever rude, but I’d speak what was on my mind. I’d lost those attributes, and oh how I missed them.

Capt. UberHusband and I got into a rather heated discussion last week about the rules of social propriety, and what role passive-aggressive types play in digging their (our?) own holes. Our “discussions” are always great fun, since the voices usually raise (okay, mine does) and we generally wind up arguing with each other over who agrees with the other more. It’s weird. Anyway, I read him that day’s Dear Abby letter which, to paraphrase, dealt with a woman and her passive aggressiveness with a family member. Instead of just addressing the issue head-on, she pussyfooted around it, “dropping hints” and hoping somehow this clueless person would get a clue and voila! – instant harmony without all of that pesky and irrelevant confrontation or communication. Abby basically said what I would have, which was for her to put her big girl panties on and voice her dissatisfaction.

Why don’t we do that anymore? Honestly, I’d like to know. At what point did we voluntarily become hostages to the folks in the world who steamroll over most generally accepted social norms? And why do we hostages believe that venting and fuming to everyone besides the actual offender…will offer any relief? Sure, we can “all be in it together”, but then we’re just a big, collective group of wusses.

And to a lesser extent…what if you’re unhappy with someone’s actions, but they don’t know those actions are negatively impacting you? Several years ago, our next-door neighbor had outdoor lights which would shine right into our bedroom. We still had the white blinds at the time, and our room practically lit up like Times Square when the lights were on. After a couple of nights of this, figuring they had no idea what was going on since their room faced a different direction, I had CU go over and ask about unscrewing the bulb so we could sleep. Yeah, I know…why didn’t I go do it myself? Because, he’s my husband and I get to delegate tasks like that to him. Heh. Know what? They removed the bulb and…problem solved!

No one…and I mean no one…”takes a hint”. If you want something, ask for it. If you’re upset, say so. If someone is infringing on your personal space or your personal beliefs (tangible or intangible), renegotiate the boundaries. I think most people take the passive-aggressive route because they’re either insecure about the rationale for their own desires (“Is it wrong of me to want to reduce their lighting? After all, half of the area is their yard, too…”) or are just flat-out fearful the other person will get mad or not like them. If that’s the case…fine. By the same token though, you sort of relinquish your ability to bitch on your blog or to your co-workers or to your friends if you haven’t tried to resolve the issue directly…and clearly.

This is just one of the many, many lessons I’ve learned over the past five weeks. Don’t fear being assertive…fear who you become when you don’t value yourself enough to ask for what you want or need.  If someone gets mad at you, oh well.  They’ll get over it.  Unless of course, you tell them that you want/need them to burn down someone’s house or something.  I’d probably get mad if someone asked me to do that, but it would be less mad than I’d be if you came up to me and said, “That house could really stand to be burned down. The owners have a really bright light that shines directly into my bedroom at night.  Someone should do something about that.”

One of my dirty little workplace secrets is that I had a tendency to call in sick…well, when I wasn’t really all that sick. I was never counseled or reprimanded (other than one time, when I was in college…but all my friends were going skiing!) and truth be told, I probably was more affected by it than anyone else. Nevertheless, with that confession I almost feel hypocritical for proudly waving my Employee Work Ethic flag as I have for so many years. Hear me out, though – because I believe my dirty little secret is really just a symptom of an even Dirtier Little Secret.

An article in yesterday’s Dallas Morning News discussed the impact of employee absenteeism, and the financial cost to employers. We’re provided an unsurprising mathematical formula of: annual salary/workdays * number of unexcused absences = Bad Employee Product. The more you’re out, the less productive you are therefore more of a liability to the company. To go a step further, you’re also a liability to overall employee morale because the number of absences is directly proportional to the anger and resentment of your coworkers. Not because they have to pick up your slack, but because they didn’t have the presence of mind to call in sick that morning.

Without a doubt, there are rogue employees in the workplace. These leeches suck the life out of everyone around them, provide absolutely no valuable input to projects, and always seem to have this excuse or that reason to be unavailable for the weekly staff meeting. I won’t argue that. What I am willing to argue though, is that employee absenteeism – and the astronomical costs associated – in the vast majority of instances have less to do with the employee, and significantly more to do with the employer.

Reading the article reminded me of the chief complaint I’d had about my last, oh, four or five jobs – they weren’t challenging. At all. That’s probably why I am able to refer to them as “my last four or five jobs”. It’s likely I’m the exception to the rule, since my issues with finding challenging work go clear back to elementary school. I skipped the third grade because I’d blown through the 3rd grade curriculum in the 2nd grade, 2nd in the 1st, etc. I never met a challenge I couldn’t conquer…provided I wanted to or it was interesting enough to me. In the workplace, managers are much less willing or eager to help you to skip a grade. But you know, I tend to think most people want to feel as though the work they’re doing is meaningful. That’s certainly been the case in my experience with coworkers who floundered in organizations, turning into “that guy” or “that girl” – the one with the lousy attitude who mentally checks out until that doesn’t get the job done anymore. Then, they physically check out.

Bottom line: satisfied employees aren’t excessively absent.

Clearly, I am not the first person to publicize the concept of meaningful work yielding employee satisfaction. That honor goes to Frederick Herzberger who, back in the 50s, devised the Motivation-Hygiene Theory. His theory hypothesized that satisfaction was the result of the presence of (or positive) motivator factors and dissatisfaction was the result of a lack of (or negative) hygiene factors.

To get an idea of what we’re dealing with, here are examples of what is considered a motivator factor or a hygiene factor:

Motivator Factors

• Achievement
• Recognition
• Work Itself
• Responsibility
• Autonomy
• Opportunities for Advancement
• Professional Growth
• Challenge

Hygiene Factors

• Salary, Benefits
• Company Policies & Culture
• Intra-office Relationships
• Physical Working Environment
• Job Status
• Job Security

The kicker Herzberg identified though, was that hygiene factors had little to no effect on satisfaction – only dissatisfaction. That can’t be though…right? Wouldn’t a pay increase naturally increase employee satisfaction? Not really. Once that initial adrenaline rush passes and you get used to that extra 2.5% in your paycheck every week, it is no longer relevant to your satisfaction and you go back to bitching about your low-walled cube. Aha! Dissatisfaction!

In one job, I was so bored I used to go to the bathroom three times an hour and just sit there because that was more socially and professionally acceptable than sitting at my desk and staring at my monitor. I had asked my manager for more work, and more responsibility. She didn’t know what to do with me, and I eventually left. In another job, I was given menial tasks which took up a lot of time, but required minimal brain power. Eventually I figured out how to automate those tasks, and was once again back at square one.

I’ve also gone through the last fifteen years in the workforce with the misguided notion that supervisors and managers will always want you to have challenging and meaningful work. I’m now of the fairly educated opinion that is true, but only at the most entry of levels. Things change as you rise up the ranks. Whereas at the beginning of your career you are someone to be guided and mentored, eventually the student is at the same level as the teacher and the waters get muddied.

What? What’s that you say? There’s nothing people can do about a bad manager or an unsatisfying workplace, and if they don’t like it they can just leave? Fine…and, they do. Every day. But at the end of the day, wouldn’t we all be better off my addressing the underlying issues associated with the problem rather than slapping a band-aid on the situation by creating Task Forces and Corporate Initiatives to combat employee absenteeism?

Seems to me this problem could be more effectively addressed by telling managers to step up! Do what you’re being paid to do. Lead by example…by being productive and proactive and looking for solutions to problems rather than identifying the easier targets of blame. Talk to your employees and find out what they want, and what they believe will make them satisfied, productive, and valued members of your organization. Believe me, that’s what we want.

For nearly the entire 4 1/2 years I was at my last job, I was involved in some aspect of customer and technical support. We had a small operation, and resolving escalated issues and “re-engineering” our internal processes were the brims of my many hats. Bless my heart, I tried…but most of it was for naught. Within my organization, “ensuring customer satisfaction” was not a component of our corporate philosophy so much as a perceived trendy buzzword thrown out when some truly dissatisfied customer ran an issue up the organizational flagpole. Once the crisis passed, so did the emphasis on satisfaction. Sadly, we were not unique.

In this world of soft launches, beta (i.e., not tested) rollouts, and near-daily version updates there are bound to be bugs in functionality or features. I get that. What I don’t get is the increasing prevalence of crappy customer service, especially on the part of organizations who offer us – the user – free products like Twitter or Facebook.

A few months ago, I set up a Twitter account to accompany my forthcoming non-personal blog launch (it’s coming…I swear) and then in a panicked moment of self-doubt a couple of months later, I cancelled the account. You’d think it would be fairly easy to reinstate a Twitter account…especially mine, because it had all of one posting and zero followers. Several people posted on Twitter’s support site they were unable to reinstate deactivated accounts. About a month ago, Twitter responded by proudly announcing the feature was available again. Happy to be able to undo my momentary lapse in judgment, I tried to reinstate my account…no luck. So, I submitted a ticket to Twittersupport:

Stacy · November 30 2008, 02:42 PM
This is what I DID:
I tried to restore my account per the following link: http://twitter.com/account/restore

This is what I EXPECTED to happen:
That I could restore my account.

This is what ACTUALLY happened:
I received a message telling me this feature was disabled. I need to know how to get this account back online again.

I feel: Frustrated!

This morning…here’s the response I received:

The restore feature is temporarily disabled. Thanks for your patience while we work to restore it.

Really. It took Twitter five days to tell me what I originally pointed out? How about answering my question? That would be super. Even a “We don’t know when the feature will be re-enabled” would suffice. Lame-ass canned responses by support personnel drove me insane in my last job, and they still drive me insane now. Not only was it a canned response, it was a word-for-word reiteration of the page I already saw. Now, Twitter sort of holds us hostage…by the short & curlies, as Capt. UberHusband would put it. They know we’re not going anywhere, and will continue to use the service…because it’s free. We can’t vote with our wallets and walk away. I’m glad Twitter appreciates my patience, but at what point does Twitter believe I am justified in becoming…well, impatient? Of course, I could set up another Twitter account – but that’s not the point here. The point is the lack of meaningful response and feedback.

I had a similar issue with Facebook and my privacy settings a few months back. I had set everything to “Friends Only” yet each time I went back into the app settings, it was set to “My Networks and Friends”. I didn’t want everyone in the Dallas/Ft. Worth network to see that a friend had just passed me a drink. In response to my technical support query, Facebook sent me a link telling me how to update my privacy settings. Hello, McFly! Safeguarding my privacy is a big deal to me, and a violation of that is tantamount to treason! Maybe that’s a little extreme but still, privacy is a big deal even if I don’t post racy pictures of myself or show off my tramp stamp in my profile picture.

I guess the big question is, at what point would you walk away from a free service? Or truly, are we getting what we pay for?

I’ve started watching movie channels during the day, because I can’t handle the knee-jerk, manic reactions of Joe the Investor to every Fox Breaking News Alert, CNN News Alert, Dallas Morning News Alert, and WSJ Breaking News Alert. Right now, I have A Walk in the Woods on. Yes, at this point I view Keanu Reeves as being a beacon of light in a dark, foggy sea.

What’s that you say, the economy has been in a recession for nearly a year? SELL, SELL, SELL! Totally ignore any strengths or financial stability of the companies involved in the DJIA (of which you may not even own any shares)…and sell, sell, sell! This is great news for American brokers, who are taking all of the shares YOU sold yesterday…and selling them to intelligent institutional investors today at a discount, so we individual investors can see a spike in the DJIA. Yay! Oh, wait…

Really though, I shouldn’t be surprised by how The Markets have been reacting since September. Any armchair economist, Dr. Phil fan, or person with a brain understands the concept of the self-fulfilling prophecy. Researchers have proven for several decades that if you tell children (or your boyfriend, or your wife) they’re dumb, or ugly, or not talented…eventually they’ll start believing it about themselves. Sure, once in a while you can pepper the negativity with a morsel of good news (You’re really good at coloring! You didn’t burn dinner last night! Gas is under $2.00 a gallon!)…but does anyone care? At that point, the bad news is the only news that counts. You hear it enough, you believe it…even if you know you have more promise, talent, and resiliency than you’re given credit for. It is a difficult belief system to overcome, once firmly in place.

I see no reason why this same concept can’t be applied to American investors. If every news media outlet in the United States (and honestly, this is happening abroad as well) insists on running tickers and crawlers maximizing the bad news and minimizing any possible ray of light…and we react as expected…is that helping us? No, it isn’t.

At one point this past summer, my 401k was valued at nearly $70,000. I’m not afraid to throw out actual numbers, since I’ve been contributing since I was 21. At last check, it was sitting right around $38,000. I do understand that max $70k number was never real money – my 401k isn’t “worth” anything unless I sell and actually realize (ideally) the gains. Am I concerned that the value of my 401k is $5,000 less than it was five years ago? You betcha. But, I’m a maverick. I went rogue and am not selling anything in my portfolio.

I have faith, because I look beyond the literally minute-by-minute reactions of the media and our government and focus on the long-term viability of the companies within the mutual funds I own. This doesn’t help the value of my 401k…again, that isn’t real money until I cash out…and I don’t plan on cashing out for a good 25 years, but I can feel better knowing I’m invested in good, solid companies with continuous potential for long-term growth. Believe me though, it has taken a lot of resistance to not bail out of the market with everyone else.

In the last six months or so, I really have begun to view going back to get my MBA as both a blessing and a cruel, cruel curse. While Joe the MBA Student (yes, I will beat that to death in this post) may not generally take his studies to the next level and immerse himself in the news of the day, I do. I’m just inquisitive like that…and I’m trying to squeeze every cent of additional value I can out of grad school. I’ve immersed myself with such gusto that ironically, I am to the point now where I’m not depressed about the economy, I’m depressed about how everyone else is reacting to it. That’s even worse for me…because I can’t do a damn thing about what other people choose to do or think.

Bear in mind…I’m not addressing the very real issues of auto industry bailouts, the subprime mortgage meltdown, the credit crunch, or sketchy financial institutions. Those are issues of individual industries, and individual companies within those industries which were already on the path to destruction. I worked for a sub-prime mortgage company…I get that.

I’m also not advocating that the media quit reporting the news. After all, that’s the media’s job. But, there is something to be said about scaling back the transparency…and redefining what is considered truly newsworthy. Back in the olden days, news distribution was limited. You had your radio and eventually, television. There were no 24-hour cable news channels with a heightened level of presence until the 80s, and then it was only CNN…for the most part. Information distribution via the Internet is a fairly recent phenomenon. I would wager to guess this recession is made worse and will be dragged out by the fact that we as individuals know everything that is going on…at the split second it happens. Our “news channels” have transformed themselves into “information channels” which now demand significantly more analysis on our part.

In my opinion, not everyone in America is savvy enough to know the best way to process and react to the information being given. Receive information, jerk knee. That’s what we do. We listen to those in perceived positions of authority and automatically assume they’re right, that they have all the answers. Clearly, history would tell you that isn’t necessarily the case.

Who knows, maybe we all just enjoy being miserable. After all, economic downturns are also perceived as the Great Equalizer. The “haves” suddenly have less, and that has to be a good thing…right? We’re finally knocking the wealthy down a peg…or nine! Granted that may be the case, but those folks now are opting not to have their houses cleaned, their lawns mowed, or their hair highlighted every three weeks. They aren’t eating out as much. They’re scaling back on music or dance lessons for their children, where applicable. They aren’t vacationing as much, or enjoying as many leisure activities. Do you know who suffers for that? The folks who work in those service industries. Suddenly the “have nots” have less, too. Funny how that works.

And that is why I’d rather watch festive holiday fare like The Departed.

Always End On an Upnote: I did scoop the Dallas Morning News …getting the word on senior discounts out yesterday before it did today. Nanny nanny boo boo.

{begin finger snapping}

“When you’re a doorbuster, you’re a doorbuster all the way…from your first in-store deal to your half-off display…”

Think I’m kidding? It was downright dangerous out there yesterday, folks. Some poor WalMart employee died after being trampled by a bunch of Doorbusters. Shots were fired at a store in California between two men who were defending the honor of their doorbusting female companions.

Seriously people…WTF?

Fortunately, CU and I did not encounter anything quite that dramatic when we ventured out. But, we still found ourselves enveloped by the comforting warmth of bitchy salespeople (at 10 AM!), passive-aggressive holiday shoppers, and Macy’s patrons who should be permanently banned from using 15%-Off All Day Shopping Passes (excludes everything in the store) and/or “$10 Off Your $25 Purchase (excludes everything in the store)” coupons.

Our shopping goals yesterday were really quite elementary – I wanted to go to Michaels to pick up some yarn, and we needed to get CU a coat. That was it. We weren’t looking for a TV, a GPS system, or world peace.

We stopped first at Michaels and honestly, shopper volume was light.  We headed to the back corner to get the yarn, and got in a relatively short line. I handed the cashier my 25% Off Your Entire Purchase coupon, he scanned it and…well, the discount was only applied to one item. While he was ringing everything up, he was also bitching quite loudly to someone who was either a co-worker or his supervisor (really, you can’t tell anymore)…and then he started complaining to me. Like I give a crap about his bad day. I really don’t need to be burdened by the management issues this guy was having. I said to him, “It’s way too early to be that grumpy already.” He replied, “Who? Me or him?” “Both,” I said…sort of surprised that he thought there might be justification for a distinction. 

Back to the coupon, though. After questioning him about the final total and being admonished for even suggesting The System didn’t appropriately apply my discount, I looked at my receipt and sure enough – no discount. Now, this wouldn’t be a big deal if I was buying something for $1.99, but we’re talking about $60 worth of yarn. After I pushed a bit more, the cashier said – and I quote – “I don’t know anything about how the coupons work.” He then advised me to go over to Customer Service. Seriously? Short story long, we wound up having to return all ten skeins of yarn, process a refund, then run the purchase through again.

At Macy’s, we were 1-fer-3 on purchases…success being measured by not wanting to either stab ourselves or stab someone else.  We did manage to find CU a coat, and that line wasn’t bad.  It was long, but other than one father who was SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS TRYING TO GET HIS CHILD TO BE QUIET (irony much?), pretty uneventful.  One really nice lady was standing behind us and we talked to her for the 15 minutes we waited and joked about how we never wanted to be “that person” – you know, the one who either is so clueless once they get to the register or just a jerk in general that they don’t understand the impact of their actions.  Or, they understand them just fine and well…but don’t give a damn.

I didn’t fully appreciate the irony of that conversation until we ventured downstairs and I fell in love with a Fossil hat/gloves/scarf set.  Falling in love hasn’t set off such a disastrous chain of events since meeting the guy I dated before Capt. UberHusband.  Nevertheless, fall in love I did.  And I have to tell you…going to New York relieved me of my fear of hats. Plus, my hair now is more hat-friendly than it was a few years back…so the winter hat industry now has that going for it.  To add lust to love, we had two “$10 Off Your $25 Purchase” coupons. Feeling thrifty and fiscally randy, I left CU in one line with my scarf and I went to another register to pay for the hat and gloves. I figured that would take less time.

And then I encountered…the line straddler. You know this person. He/she is there with a shopping partner…and there are two lines. They divide and conquer, thinking that whoever winds up in the longer line can just hop out of his/her line and as such, save time.  CU and I do this once in awhile, but I would never dare to do it on Black Friday with thirty people tapping their feet and huffing and puffing around me. Scroll back up to the top, and you’ll find that you never know who might be carrying heat.

So this one woman was in front of me, and her husband in the other line immediately to our left. When it looked like his line was going to be moving faster, she got our of our line and stood with him. I quickly moved up. No way was she coming back over. Of course, as is law, her line immediately became the bottleneck with the customers in front of her trying to split their items into multiple purchases so they could use multiple coupons.

That was when she decided to start slowly moving back over into my line. My line. It was no longer her line. She gave up all rights to my line when she relinquished allegiance and defected to her husband’s line.  As such, she is no longer eligible for the benefits associated with my line. I was scanning through Google Reader on my iPhone and trying to look like I didn’t notice what she was doing, but I could see it out of the corner of my eye. When she started sliding in front of me and gave me a sideways glance I said, very loudly, “I’M SORRY, WHAT LINE ARE YOU IN?” She stammered that she was in the other line and then scooted back over. Heh. “OH, OKAY. I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE THAT I WASN’T CUTTING IN FRONT OF YOU OR ANYTHING.” Heh. Imagine my exuberant glee when, after finishing my purchase, I saw her and her husband still in line…now behind someone opening up a Macy’s charge account. Heh.

Unfortunately, Capt. UberHusband wasn’t as lucky. After all of that time, when we met back up he was pretty much in the same position he was when I left. A family of four adults and one baby in front of him had a strollerful of clothes and were trying to check out in the accessories department. And, they had coupons. Lots and lots of coupons. I believe they split everything out into six or seven different transactions, and every time had to question the purchase and why the coupon wasn’t applicable to at least one item in that specific purchase. For one coupon, the guy had to use his Macy’s card…but he didn’t seem to understand that until the fourth or fifth time the saleslady (bless her heart) told him that he had to use his Macy’s card. He just kept scanning his MasterCard. Imagine this going on for thirty minutes. But at that point, you’re stuck. What are you going to do…get in another line?  The mom at one point moved her head back in our direction and said, “Sorry” but avoided direct eye contact.  Why do people do that…say they’re sorry when clearly, they aren’t?

But, we saved twenty bucks on my kick-ass cold weather accessories.  Now I just need it to get cold…and stay that way for more than a day.

This week in Consumer Behavior we discussed customer privacy, and whether or not we feel privacy policies go too far or not far enough (both from a consumer’s and manager’s perspective).  Rather than paraphrase, I’ll just copy and paste a snippet of my response:

I’ve always found the battleground topic of customer privacy to be very interesting, because in my experience…people are generally inconsistent with their beliefs. Consumers demand that their personal information submitted online to retailers not be shared with third-party vendors (to avoid the dreaded flood of email spam), yet these same individuals are completely willing to share all but the most intimate of details online via blogs, Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, or a host of other social networking sites.

I’ve sat next to people in doctor’s offices who hand out their credit card numbers over their cell phone, completely oblivious to the fact that people might be listening in. People who live in my neighborhood proudly display signs in their front yard indicating Caitlyn and Austin are in cheerleading or football at the local high school, probably not even considering how easy it would be to find out the last name of the home’s owner and do who-knows-what.

With that, I started thinking about Facebook pages and how I know what my “friends” are interested in – to a startling degree in some cases.  Privacy doesn’t really come into play when you’re talking about television shows you like, or brands of soda you enjoy.  Unless you’re weird.

But, while we’re so openly sharing…wouldn’t it be great if you knew what your Best Facebook Friends Forever were truly fans of? I mean, sure I’m a fan of red wine, and Freebirds, and How I Met Your Mother…but wouldn’t you rather read “Snarkwife is a fan of ending sentences with prepositions” in your live feed?

How about…

• Jane Doe is a fan of unemployment.
• John Doe is a fan of passive-aggressive behavior.
• Judy Doe is a fan of parking so crookedly in parking spots that others can’t park in the adjacent spots.
• Jim Doe is a fan of calling in sick to work on Fridays and/or Mondays.
• Jane Doe is a fan of pouring the last cup of coffee at work, and not making a new pot.

And so on, and so forth. I mean really, the options are limitless.

Good morning! So, here’s a little good news/bad news for your Friday:

Iraqis take over security duties in Babel

The good news? The Iraqis are taking over security duties in Babel. Capt. UberHusband spent a good chunk of his time in Iraq in this very area, and completely understands the significance of this event.

The bad news? The Dallas Morning News buried this story somewhere towards the back of the first section of today’s paper, in a tiny 1/2-column news blip. Because of that, most people probably skimmed right past it. To be fair, I generally skim past the stories of security in Iraq being turned over to the Iraqis…but that’s because I know it’s going on. On this particular day though, it was personal.

The really bad news? There are still so many people out there saying we’re not getting anywhere in Iraq. Really? Not getting anywhere?

You know, this isn’t an issue of supporting the war versus not supporting it. This is an issue of how facts get lost within partisan rhetoric, and how anything positive which might come out of all of this can conveniently be swept under the rug by the media or really, anyone else who decides that progress or some semblance of positive news is counter-productive to his/her agenda.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Judy McGuire over at The Frisky has listed the four types of TV guys to avoid and while the list is pretty spot-on (Chuck Bass, Don Draper), I think the list is rather obvious…and woefully incomplete. Sure, ladies should avoid the guys with sex and alcohol addictions…and in general women should steer clear of 17-year old boys. What about the types that fly a little more under the radar, though? Where’s the lack of love for them?

Alan Harper (Two and a Half Men): Forget the chronically drunk, virus-hosting Charlie Harper, it’s his brother I think women need to worry about more. He’s marginally unemployed, and is still pussy-whipped by his ex even though the alimony has stopped. He also has far too many matching pajama-and-robe sets.

Roman Grant (Big Love): Roman tends to traffic more in quantity and not necessarily quality. Plus, he has way too many family obligations to ever make you feel like you’re #1…or #32, for that matter.

Ryan Howard (The Office): From temp to Corporate to receptionist in just a few short years. While I admire his Behind the Music-esque rise to stardom and subsequent attempt to rebuild after shamelessly falling from grace, he still hasn’t fully processed 9/11. Besides, he prefers women who look like Survivor contestants.

Elliot Stabler (Law & Order: Special Victims Unit): In love with a colleague for the past ten years. Enough said. Give it up…you’ll never be able to compete with his Workplace Wife. Just ask his actual wife.

Alan Shore (Boston Legal): I never thought I’d say this about a man, but Alan is in love with being in love. He’s not what I would consider old, yet he has deeply fallen in love with…and shared a rather special connection with…literally half of the female attorneys in Boston. And all Andrews Sisters jokes aside, he holds too big of a torch (that’s what she said?) for Denny. See “Elliot Stabler” above.

Sometimes, the actions of people completely baffle me. Now, I expect a certain level of stupidity and moronicity (like that?) out of the Average Person, me included; but, oh my God, have I got a whopper of a story. And this time, it wasn’t What Would Snarkwife Do? It was, What Did Stacy Actually Do?

Ya’ll know I’m a stickler for service. I praise the good, but I will also let the complaints flow if I’ve received lousy service. I’m particularly astute to the art of customer service management since I finished my services marketing class…two hours ago. Heh.

So. I needed a pedicure. The last one I got was about a month ago, and with everything…well, that just fell off the list of Things To Do. I’ve been going to the same place down in Plano for ten years (and had the same pedicure chick for nine), but didn’t feel like making the 20-minute drive. Now of course, I’m kicking myself…but…coulda, woulda, shoulda.

Around here, you can’t turn around without bumping into at least three nail salons. They’re in every strip mall at every intersection, and I can think of…six nail places that are within a five-minute drive of my house. So, I take an early lunch and swing by one for a pedicure. I walk in and the place seems nice enough, except they don’t have their A/C turned on…just lots of fans running. Well, I need a pedicure, and don’t have time to go interviewing every nearby nail establishment today.

(more…)

CU and I have this routine in the morning.  The alarm goes off, we roll around and grumble a bit, scratch the dogs, and take the dogs outside.  Then, depending on who is more awake (and has more front yard-appropriate clothing on), one of us will go out and grab the paper while the other gives Cookie her morning meds.

I’ll fix a cup of coffee, then sit down to read all of the advice columns and of course, Dilbert.  CU got to the “Collin County Opinions” page in the Metro section before I did today.  Here’s the thing about the Collin County Opinions section – generally the “editorials” are written by average folk…presumably like you and me, assuming you live in Collin County and are an unappreciated stay-at-home-mom, an overworked and underpaid teacher, a self-employed “telecom executive” who was laid off during the Telecom Bust of ’01, or a local high school student who wants to get a jump-start on his/her journalism career. 

These “opinion” pieces are supposedly also written with a decidedly “folksy” spin so that average folk…presumably like you and me, can engage in watercooler talk about how our lives are just like theirs.  We’re all in this crazy wacky life together, you know?

But.  This is what we read this morning, and then…well…I got angry.  I know, it’s tough to believe someone can get angry when they’ve only been awake for fifteen minutes, but I managed to do it.  I got angry about one-quarter of the way into the story, and then CU calmly told me to read the rest of it, so I could put it all into its proper disturbing context.  I’ll wait while you read the whole thing.  Don’t want anyone Google-ing themselves this morning to claim I took anything out of context.

(more…)

It’s almost Mother’s Day, and we know what that means…time to pander to all the moms out there by pointing out how much they “should” be getting paid.

I hate these articles, studies, analyses, whatever you want to call them. Want to know why? Because motherhood is a lifestyle choice. It is not a job.

As a comparison, I have two dogs…and have had them for 9 and 11 years, respectively. They are living creatures which require that I tend to their needs or they will die. Getting these dogs was a lifestyle choice. While I realize Poodle and Schnoozer will not be contributing to society, it is my responsibility to make sure I have raised them so they don’t annoy the crap out of everyone with their barking, or run around loose and bite people or defecate on other people’s lawns. Sadly, I wish more parents would raise their children with the same basic level of respect for others.

Having said that, I do not raise my fist in solidarity with other pet owners, demanding that some entity appreciate my sacrifices and pay me for my many pet owner-associated jobs which include pet food nutritionist, veterinarian, groomer, personal trainer, and behaviorist.

(more…)

So I was reading this article about high-tech manners this morning, and it reminded me of an experience I had at my allergy doctor’s office a couple of weeks ago.

I was in the waiting room, flipping through People magazine and the gentleman sitting next to me picked up his ringing cell phone. First off, he had a booming voice – and I almost felt like I was being shouted at, even though I wasn’t directly involved in the conversation. Here’s what I found out about the guy:

1. He was interested in purchasing a home warranty, but due to financial issues, couldn’t pay for the whole thing right now.
2. He has rather significant financial issues, as he outlined most of them for the entire waiting room.
3. He did have enough money though, to pay half now and the remainder next month.
4. I learned his full name, credit card number, expiration date, and card security code.

In this case, it wasn’t just the fact that he was so enveloped by his warm & comforting bubble that he didn’t realize there were four people sitting around him while he was engaged in this conversation, it was the fact that these four people could have very easily written down all his information and stolen his identity.

Cell phone rudeness is definitely on my top ten list of Things That Piss Me Off. Call me old fashioned, but it drives me batty when I’m with someone and they engage in a long, drawn-out cell phone call. I don’t care if it’s a quick call, but if you push more than 60 seconds on the phone…that’s really just rude.

(more…)

Poor (and I meant that in a totally non-economic), victimized Al Sharpton & Jesse Jackson drive me absolutely buggy. Wide-eyed, bulging eyeball, spinning-circles-in-my-eyes buggy.

It never ceases to amaze me how if a white person says something “offensive”, he’s strung up and beaten like a pinata (no offense to any Hispanic readers, of course)…but if a black person does the exact same thing…for some reason society is obligated to turn a cheek and pretend it never happened. Remember the “George Bush hates black people” comment?

Then again…Isaiah Washington was sent to “rehab” for his anti-gay “slur”…but no one hauled him onto Good Morning America to demand his resignation from Grey’s Anatomy…oh no, they gave him an award, instead!

(more…)

As much as I love Seattle and the beauty and great wine of Washington, I might just have to boycott the entire state if this unbelievably lame initiative were, by some idiotic chance, to pass.

I mean, I understand where they’re going, but saying, “it should be good fun to see the social conservatives who have long screamed that marriage exists for the sole purpose of procreation be forced to choke on their own rhetoric” is short-sided, because to further the cause of same-sex parenthood, you sacrifice childfree-by-choice couples, those struggling with infertility and married couples with children who honestly, would be better off divorced…among many, many others. I don’t care what you do, but don’t drag my lifestyle choice into your battle…because your proposal is such a slippery slope…and you’re making assumptions that may sound like out-of-the-park hits, but what happens if you’re wrong?

Don’t want to have kids? Sorry, your marriage won’t be recognized. Can’t have kids biologically and plan on adopting? Sorry, your marriage won’t be recognized, either. Forget the fact you’ve been married 5…10…however many years. By some stroke of circumstance, did you have to have a hysterectomy at 17? Forget about marriage. Husband beats you? Sorry, because you have children, under this initiative, you couldn’t get divorced. What about the couple where the woman is past childbearing age; i.e., post-menopausal? Sorry, but thanks for playing.
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I Googled “John Kerry George Bush Atkins” last night (no more The Amazing Race, what else do you do?) to see if I could find something somewhere that disclosed the Official Platform Opinions and stumbled upon this article in the San Francisco Independent. Now, I didn’t put much stock into the article, except for Mr. Caen’s statement at the end:

“There is one endorsement that is still up for grabs, one that is proven to motivate the American public more than the AFL-CIO or the Sierra Club. John Kerry should spend the next five weeks lining this up. If he gets it, the country is his.

John Kerry needs to become the first candidate endorsed by the Atkins diet.”

I’d like to expand on this because…think about it…it isn’t a half-bad idea. The majority of this election’s hot spots center around rather faddish issues anyway…education, tax cuts for the rich, the conflict in Iraq, media responsibility…etc. If Kerry could somehow successfully and believably reconcile the whole french-fries-are-bad/my-wife-makes-ketchup conflict, he just might have something. This is assuming, of course, that he can weather the inevitable controversy surrounding the upstart grassroots organization Bacon & Eggs For Truth revealing how Kerry says he eats eggs but they’re really EggBeaters.

Having said that, let’s list out what else Partisan Low-Carb Researchers for Truth have sauteed up in butter for us:

And finally…

Gives a whole new meaning to the term “waffle,” now doesn’t it?

A little tip for all the single ladies out there…don’t ever wear your Tina Fey glasses with an evening gown on a first date with 2 guys and 24 other women…unless of course, you’re Tina Fey. Or perhaps, my avatar up in the left corner of the page. Seriously. That’s just dating suicide, IMO. Either spring for the LASIK (which I’m sure you want anyway) or get thyself to fair optometrist to procure a wee set of disposable contacts. Or, did the Bachelor producers steer you in the wrong direction and tell you the specs made you look…um…intellectual?Now, I speak from the experience of a 30-something woman who managed to make it out of her 20s without going on a single reality dating show. I admit to having done the online dating thing (that’s how I met uber-husband), but I’ve never really thought any man was worth competing with 24 other women. No offense intended it’s just, well, there are lots of fish in the sea and not all of them are married, gay or otherwise unappealing. I’m so glad they didn’t pick the guy whose last name sounds alarmingly like overbite. This is good, because then I would have had to make all sorts of TMJ jokes the entire season.

In case you’ve never seen the show before, here are some quotable quotes, spoken by the Frisky Fisherman and his lovely mermaids:

And…my personal favorite…

Gag. Cough. Hack. Blech. Nothing makes a 40-year old man hotter than hearing a woman he’s just met force him to have a impromptu group date with her and her biological clock. Tick, tick, tick.

I swore I would not let The Almighty Bachelor franchise entice me in for another disappointing season. At some point, I can’t blame ABC for subjecting me to the show when no one is holding a gun to my head. Regardless, after a solid hour and a half of the world’s most boring episodes of Law & Order (Dennis…dude, you’re boring! Bring back Lenny!) I needed to cleanse my palate and switched over. By the time I got to the show, they’d already evicted the Jovial Jay, which left us with Frisky Fisherman Byron. I’m not impressed. On a scale of Bob to Andrew, I’d have to give Byron a solid Aaron in terms of irritating eye-rollability.

The 10-minute montage of “Coming up this season on…The Bachelor” was absolutely unbearable. Silly string? What are you guys, nine? Frisky Fisherman also moves into the Mermaids’ Villa, providing fodder for lots of hookups, lots of drama and lots of marginally attractive women clawing at each other for a man whose actual marriageability is in question just by him being on the show in the first place.

0-for-5, kids. 0-for-5.