<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659</id><updated>2009-10-17T14:28:00.240-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Absurd and Askew</title><subtitle type='html'>My thoughts as I think them.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>60</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-7110974641134070676</id><published>2009-09-10T14:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T15:36:11.078-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How About Free? Is Free Good For You?</title><content type='html'>It's so frustrating dealing with people who want you to provide high quality, professional services to them for next to nothing. You're giving them a decent discount as it is, yet it's not enough. Some people just don't understand that hiring a professional designer (instead of the high school kid next door or somebody you know from church who understands how to use Photoshop) costs money. By all means, get yourself the kid next door if you only want to shell out $50 for an entire gate-fold brochure design, but don't come knocking on my door, agree upon a price, and then act as if I've done you wrong when you get my invoice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll go into detail without naming the client by name, because if I don't get this off my chest, I'm going to be fuming about it for a while. Here's the situation...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was approached a number of months ago by a new client requesting a quote on a full project that included multiple products. Because the client was a non-profit agency, I offered them a package price on the full project, but also slashed that package price by half. The project entailed a total of five items for an upcoming event they were holding. The first two of the five items were produced, with one of these being the single item that would be the most time consuming of all of them. They asked me to go ahead an invoice them for work done so far. I did. I invoiced them for half the total package price with the other half due when the remaining 3 items were completed. Since the largest item was included in these first two, that seemed very fair. They paid the invoice and continued to hire me for more work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I completed additional jobs for them (separate from the original package deal job), I would invoice, giving them a 35% discount because of their non-profit status and knocking a few hours off my time. I wasn't charging them at all for meetings we would have, which I would normally charge for because it is my time. I was making around half of what I normally make on projects of the size I was doing for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last project I completed for them was invoiced on August 5th (keep in mind this was a *separate* project and not related to the package deal). I received a reply email from the client the same day saying she was sending the invoice through for processing. On August 28th, over 3 weeks after I invoiced, I get a voice mail from her stating that the event for the original project (the package deal) for which I had been hired had been canceled and that she had been holding onto my August 5th invoice until we could figure out what to do with the remaining balance on the package deal. Come again? You've been "holding onto" my invoice for over 3 weeks and you're just now getting around to telling me that you're doing so? Remember, the last I heard from her was in reply to the email I sent with the invoice that said she was submitting it for processing. She proceeds to tell me in the voice mail that she's going to go ahead and submit the invoice. (Um. Thanks?) She also mentions another project they want me to do and asks if we can meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I emailed her on Monday, August 31st, and let her know that I was available to meet any time. Also within that email I told her I would go over the package deal price and the items that were included and figure out if there was any amount of it outstanding, based on the percentage of time each portion of the project would take, and that if there was an outstanding balance, that I would take that off of the invoice for the upcoming project. She replied back and we set up a meeting for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning she called to tell me that she can't make the meeting and asked if we can reschedule. Then she proceeded to tell me that she still (yes, I said *STILL*) had not sent my August 5th invoice in for processing, but she'll so very kindly go ahead and do that now. (Again... um.. thanks?) I say to her, "If you can get that processed as soon as possible, I'd appreciate it. It's been a number of weeks now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, apparently she didn't like that I was a little upset that she still hasn't processed that invoice after telling me TWICE that she was sending it through for processing. I understand that she was wondering about a refund on the half-payment for the package deal (by the way, there is no refund due to them; in fact, they owe me $13), however, I was never (still have not been) given the opportunity to work with them on that situation. And I would have been more than willing to do so. She just simply chose to withhold payment of an invoice that was not even related to that package deal project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she proceeded to say I was charging too much. Remember, I've been giving them a 35% discount in addition to knocking off hours. I can't claim on my taxes the money I lose by giving them this cut rate. You're not allowed to claim services rendered to a non-profit. 35% discount and knocking off hours. I'm just so mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wouldn't bother me so much if she didn't act like it was all my fault. Um. When you invoice someone and it states very clearly at the bottom of that invoice that payment after 15 days from the date of the invoice is subject to penalty, wouldn't you at least expect that they would be in touch with you within a reasonable amount of time to let you know there's an issue and they haven't sent the invoice through yet? Especially after they've told you twice that they're sending it through for processing? I think I have a right to be angry. I did nothing wrong here. I don't give away my services for free and once I've invoiced, I expect that invoice to be paid within a reasonable amount of time. I work hard to earn that money and that money pays my bills. Thanks for the disrespect, chick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of people not understanding the time and creative juices involved in graphic design. This is what I hear: "I want a gate-fold brochure, front and back, full color, original design, and I want you to finish everything in 3 hours. Then I want you to make unlimited changes to it but I don't want to be charged any additional time for any of those multiple changes. Then I want you to correspond with the printer for me and then get it off to the printer for me. And can we also throw in a meeting or two about the brochure? Only an hour or so for each meeting. What's all that come to? $200?" Yeah. Maybe for the guy you know from church who knows how to work that darned Photoshop program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll jump through all kinds of hoops for you, but ONLY IF YOU PAY ME TO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. Do people like this walk into their doctor's office, their mechanic, their lawyer's office and say: "Can you work for me for about 25% of what you normally charge? Now, I don't want any reduction in quality or services and I want you to be there when I say jump to ask how high, but I really don't want to pay you what it normally costs to hire a professional. I want to pay you what I would pay my next door neighbor to take out my gallbladder/fix my brakes/handle my divorce."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Kinda like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be very surprised if that invoice ever gets processed. I have a feeling I've been duped. Unfortunately, it was by a very reputable national non-profit agency (yep, one you'd know if I mentioned the name) and because one person in their employ has decided to behave unprofessionally, it's made me seriously reconsider ever doing work for a non-profit again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also thinking I might have to get in touch with my attorney.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-7110974641134070676?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/7110974641134070676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=7110974641134070676&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7110974641134070676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7110974641134070676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-about-free-is-free-good-price-for.html' title='How About Free? Is Free Good For You?'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-7615911260021134502</id><published>2009-08-27T11:29:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T11:37:51.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And I Haven't Even Heard It Lately...</title><content type='html'>I'm waaaay busy with work (the 8-5er) and several freelance jobs right now, but for some reason the lyrics to this song keep playing over and over in my head this morning. Some reason. Yeah. Some reason like I want to shout them at certain people. Life &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; what you make it. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Get Over It"&lt;br /&gt;The Eagles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn on the tube and what do I see&lt;br /&gt;A whole lotta people cryin' "don't blame me"&lt;br /&gt;They point their crooked little fingers at everybody else&lt;br /&gt;Spend all their time feelin' sorry for themselves&lt;br /&gt;Victim of this, victim of that&lt;br /&gt;Your momma's too thin and your daddy's too fat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;All this whinin' and cryin' and pitchin' a fit&lt;br /&gt;Get over it, get over it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say you haven't been the same since you had your little crash&lt;br /&gt;But you might feel better if I gave you some cash&lt;br /&gt;The more I think about it, old Billy was right&lt;br /&gt;Let's kill all the lawyers, kill 'em tonight&lt;br /&gt;You don't want to work, you want to live like a king&lt;br /&gt;But the big, bad world doesn't owe you a thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;If you don't want to play, then you might as well split&lt;br /&gt;Get over it, get over it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like going to confession every time I hear you speak&lt;br /&gt;You're makin' the most of your losin' streak&lt;br /&gt;Some call it sick, but I call it weak&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You drag it around like a ball and chain&lt;br /&gt;You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain&lt;br /&gt;You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown&lt;br /&gt;Got your mind in the gutter, bringin' everybody down&lt;br /&gt;Complain about the present and blame it on the past&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to find your inner child and kick its little ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;All this bitchin' and moanin' and pitchin' a fit&lt;br /&gt;Get over it, get over it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;Get over it&lt;br /&gt;It's gotta stop sometime, so why don't you quit&lt;br /&gt;Get over it, get over it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. Something like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-7615911260021134502?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/7615911260021134502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=7615911260021134502&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7615911260021134502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7615911260021134502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/08/and-i-havent-even-heard-it-lately.html' title='And I Haven&apos;t Even Heard It Lately...'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-5569661185956934027</id><published>2009-08-20T11:40:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T11:51:08.458-04:00</updated><title type='text'>AT&amp;T Guy Has Anger Management Issues</title><content type='html'>This post needs a little prelude. Check out my &lt;a href="http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/03/must-read-for-phone-solicitors.html"&gt;previous post on telemarketers&lt;/a&gt; to understand the fake voicemail we have set up at work where we dump telemarketing calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anytime anyone calls at work and asks for "Jim" the call gets transferred to the void (i.e., a voicemail account for someone who doesn't exist at this company). The voicemail is never heard. The voicemail gets dumped every once in a while to make way for more unsolicited telemarketers who are oblivious to the fact that there is no "Jim" and that "Jim" will never be available and will never return their calls. "Jim" will exist as long as telemarketers continue to call despite being asked not to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be perfectly honest, the worst offender of the unsolicited telemarketing game is AT&amp;T. Because we do have our phone account with them, they won't remove us from their telemarketing list. They call at least once a day if not more than that asking either to speak to "Jim" or "the person who handles our telephone account." "Jim," of course, handles all of the sales calls for the telephone account. I've been weeding out AT&amp;T salesmen for years at work, but yesterday's sales call from AT&amp;T was over the top. Oh, how I wish I'd been recording it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember all of it word-for-word, but certain parts I do remember with distinct clarity. The rest may not be word-for-word, but it's awfully close to the actual conversation. I'll call the sales guy "Angry AT&amp;T Guy" because, although he gave me his name, I'm sure it wasn't his real name. It went a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: Is "Jim" available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Note that this is my first tip-off that it's a sales person.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: He's unavailable. Would you like his voicemail?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: I need to talk to "Jim" right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;From this point on, everything said by this guy is in his big boy, angry voice.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: He's unavailable. Would you like his voicemail?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: No. I need you to transfer me to him right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: He's unavailable. Would you like his voicemail?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: You need to transfer me to him right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: May I ask who's calling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: Jeff Gates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: And what company are you with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: AT&amp;T. Is he out of the office or what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Is this a sales call?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: Are you going to answer every question with a question?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Is this a sales call?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: I think it's a sales call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: You're right. Is he in the office?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: He's unavailable. Would you like his voicemail?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: This is AT&amp;T! We handle your phone service!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: So?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: What's your first and last name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: What's yours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: I already told you that. Don't you listen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Yes, I do. You said it was Jeff Gates, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wrote it down as soon as he said it, even though I know it wasn't his real name.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: What's your name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: "Jim" is unavailable. Would you like his voicemail or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: No! I want to be transferred to him right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: Good luck with that. You have to get through me first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGRY AT&amp;T GUY: Rambleramblenonsensenonsenseyellyell blah! blah! blah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**CLICK** &lt;--the sound of my phone receiver going back into the cradle&lt;br /&gt;------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say that I'm really hoping "Mr. Jeff Gates" from AT&amp;T calls for "Jim" again today and that I'm the one who picks up the call, because I want to mess with him some more. I think maybe today I'll tell him that I don't speak English and can't understand a word he's saying. I'll just keep repeating that over and over again. That's a little more fun than just putting him on indefinite hold. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-5569661185956934027?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/5569661185956934027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=5569661185956934027&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5569661185956934027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5569661185956934027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/08/at-sales-guy-has-anger-management.html' title='AT&amp;T Guy Has Anger Management Issues'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-9156099419514950651</id><published>2009-08-17T14:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T14:53:35.768-04:00</updated><title type='text'>If I call it a pet, can I get it neutered?</title><content type='html'>In honor of yet another Monday, I'm taking this opportunity to run down a list of pet peeves. Disclaimer: This list is in no way in order of pet-peeviness, nor is it complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Printed phone books and yellow pages: Seriously, does anyone even use these anymore other than for making themselves a little better able to see over the dashboard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) The countless lovely ladies at bars and nightclubs whom I've witnessed coming out of a stall and walking right past the sink (and soap) and out the door. Guys, do you know how many women do this in bars?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Football players who thank God after a win, 'cause we all know what a big football fan God is. There are innocent children dying every day all over the world, but God always takes a minute to make sure his favorite team wins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) DVR recordings that finish recording your show three minutes before the show actually ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Leaving dishes to "soak" in the clear side of the sink instead of just rinsing them out with a little hot water and putting them right into the dishwasher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Shopping carts that pull to one side or the other. And they say grocery shopping isn't a work-out. Ever try to keep a full cart going in a straight line instead of crashing into the fully stocked shelves of pasta sauce?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Speaking of shopping, items in stores that are not clearly marked with a price, either on the item itself or on a tag/sign. I have a rule. If it isn't marked, and there's no price scanner within a short walking distance, I don't buy it. I'll go to another store where it *is* marked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Guys who spit on the ground in public. It's not cool. It's not sexy. It's not macho. It's not a turn-on. It's just disgusting. I don't want to accidently walk through your spit. Do like you expect your women to do, you macho jerk... swallow it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Careless placement of the fry containers in the fast food bags, resulting in 2/3rds of the fries at the bottom of the bag. Especially bad when there's more than one order of fries. Then you gotta split what's in the bag and test a few in the process, which inevitably means you eat more fries than what you're entitled to and someone is gonna get mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) People who don't use their turn signals. It's there for a reason, dumbass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) Tailgaters. I really don't need to explain this, do I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) People who don't understand the meanings of the terms "personal space" or "private conversation."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) Any credit card company or banking institution who charges a fee for paying your bill with a check and/or debit card. Really? You're a bank. Who's charging you the fee to process my payment that you must then pass on to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14) Answering the office phone only to hear: "somebody from this number just called me." Yeah? Did they leave you a message? No? Then it must not have been important. I have no way (and frankly, no desire) to track down the person who called you and hung up when it obviously wasn't important enough for them to leave you a message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15) People who don't believe you when you tell them they have the wrong number. Yes, it's wrong. No, there's no one here by the name of Francis. Yes, that's this number. Yes, I'm sure there's no one here by that name. No, I don't know why you were given the wrong number. No, I have no idea if anyone by the name of Francis ever had this number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16) One minute later, answering a call from the same caller in #15, who is at this point "just checking" that the number they are dialing is, in fact, wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17) Salesmen and/or canvassers who sincerely believe that the "No Solicitations" sign doesn't pertain to them. If you are, without my request, asking for my money, time or signature, you are soliciting for it. Please note that there is no small print at the bottom of my "No Solicitations" sign that says "unless you are seeking my vote or want to give me information about Jesus that I might not already know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18) Handling charges. Really? I want to see a break-down of how much it actually costs you to handle my order. Isn't that cost already included in the mark-up of the cost of the item in the first place? Can I come down there and handle it myself to save a little money?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-9156099419514950651?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/9156099419514950651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=9156099419514950651&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/9156099419514950651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/9156099419514950651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/08/if-i-call-it-pet-can-i-get-it-neutered.html' title='If I call it a pet, can I get it neutered?'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-506326586081668302</id><published>2009-07-16T13:42:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:21:45.695-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='best'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spouse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='revenge'/><title type='text'>The Best Cheating Spouse Story</title><content type='html'>I was reading an article today on CNN's site about trusting your gut. They made mention of how trusting your gut in a relationship would save you a lot of heartache and I was reminded of my favorite "cheating spouse" story. The best part is, it's a true story. I didn't know this couple firsthand, but I knew the woman in passing. The story was relayed to me by a mutual friend and I've never heard a better one, before or since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smd0vxmclPI/AAAAAAAAAKs/joGBdE1k7Gw/s1600-h/Cheating_Spouse_Busted1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smd0vxmclPI/AAAAAAAAAKs/joGBdE1k7Gw/s320/Cheating_Spouse_Busted1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361382245525132530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The couple wasn't actually married, but living together. They shared, among other things, keys to one another's cars. For a few months she had been suspicious that he was cheating on her with a co-worker of his that they both knew. He often called her to say he had to stay late at work. Eventually she got fed up with what she was sure was lies despite all of his denials, so the next time he called to say he was working late, she jumped in her car and drove to the other woman's apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parked there in front of the co-worker's apartment was her boyfriend's car. She parked next to him. I'm assuming she might have sat there for a moment trying to decide how best to go about confronting the cheater. I don't know that for sure, of course, but I add it with literary license because I can see her doing it, turning over different scenarios in her mind. Should she find a pay phone (this was before everyone and his brother had a cell phone) and call the woman's number and ask for him, or should she simply go straight up to the door and knock? Instead, she did something I really admire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got out of her car that she had parked there next to his and, using the key to his car that she had on her keychain, she climbed into his car and drove back home. Not a word. No confrontation at all. When he walked out and saw her car sitting there instead of his own, he knew he'd been caught. He reluctantly got into her car and drove home, most likely conceiving all the different excuses he could come up with to get himself out of hot water. He didn't have a chance to use any of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got home, he found his car crammed full with his clothing and everything else of his that she could stuff into it. She asked him for her car key back, and the one to their apartment, gave him back the key to his car, and sent him on his way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I love about this is that there was no arguing. He had to suffer the drive home knowing that she knew, but I'm pretty sure he never expected her to pack his belongings into his car and give him his walking papers without the chance to "explain." She basically just wiped her hands of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's my hero. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-506326586081668302?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/506326586081668302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=506326586081668302&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/506326586081668302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/506326586081668302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/07/best-cheating-spouse-story.html' title='The Best Cheating Spouse Story'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smd0vxmclPI/AAAAAAAAAKs/joGBdE1k7Gw/s72-c/Cheating_Spouse_Busted1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-5800794418410293594</id><published>2009-07-14T10:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:46:29.421-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not important'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='minor issues'/><title type='text'>Squeaky Shoes in a Quiet Office</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlySIPWMX1I/AAAAAAAAAJc/4BBGiypnlp8/s1600-h/con_pink_hi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlySIPWMX1I/AAAAAAAAAJc/4BBGiypnlp8/s200/con_pink_hi.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358318326920273746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a quiet office, my tennis shoes squeak. It's not something I notice anywhere else. It's only here, where there's no noise but that of the forced air and the ticking of the clock on my desk. &lt;i&gt;(I haven't turned on any music yet. It's still early.)&lt;/i&gt; The few people here are silently tucked away in their own offices working on something or another. I just got back inside from a smoke break and, as I'm walking down the hallway to my office, I notice how loudly my tennis shoes are squeaking. I thought it important enough to blog about only because it brought me to another thought. That's how my mind works. Click. Click. Click. Most of it random nonsense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shoes that normally go unnoticed are hugely noticeable in the midst of such a hushed environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little things in life that normally go unnoticed are hugely noticeable in the midst of a quietly stable environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the connection?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I get so bored with life that all the little annoyances that normally go unnoticed become these big, looming issues. Why? Because routine is not my friend, and in the quiet, calm of routine I start to search for something to which I can pay attention. BAM! There they are, these little nothings staring me in the face and daring me to confront them. I don't take challenge lightly; I meet it head-on. Even when all logic tells me it's &lt;u&gt;not important&lt;/u&gt;, damn it, they dared me, and thus I must address them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've read all the "don't sweat the small stuff" books and heard all the advice about not "making mountains out of molehills." I know that logically I should just ignore these tiny nothings because they really are a bunch of inconsequential crap, but boredom exaggerates them. Addressing a pile of inconsequential crap is something to do that breaks the monotany. It's not right. It's not helpful. It definitely doesn't make life easier. But maybe that's the point. I don't like it when everything is too easy and there's no challenge, no goals, no uphill battles, no feeling of victory when I've defeated one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. I truly am my own worst enemy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click. Click. Click.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One would think, with all that drive to be challenged and satisfaction of achievement when I've reached a goal, that I would be highly competitive. I'm not. Not in the least. I just can't stand to be idle. If I'm not creating something, I'm fixing something. If I'm not doing either of those, I'm learning something new. I'm not happy unless I'm submersed in busy-ness. I have to have a goal. I don't care if that goal is to get the dust bunnies out from under the couch on X day, I have to have something planned to accomplish or I get bored. Quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my husband, that probably makes me high maintenance. The thing is, I don't look to him to entertain me, but I don't want him bringing me down either. The worst part for him is probably when I do get bored and I start turning those inconsequential nothings into gotta-fix-it challenges. I guess that means that it's in his best interests that I stay occupied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life would probably be much easier if I would ignore the squeaky shoes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-5800794418410293594?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/5800794418410293594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=5800794418410293594&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5800794418410293594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5800794418410293594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/07/squeaky-shoes-in-quiet-office.html' title='Squeaky Shoes in a Quiet Office'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlySIPWMX1I/AAAAAAAAAJc/4BBGiypnlp8/s72-c/con_pink_hi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-3622911809873904209</id><published>2009-07-07T15:08:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:45:55.558-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iraq'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coverage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soldiers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saturated'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Afghanistan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michael Jackson'/><title type='text'>My Own Private Memorial</title><content type='html'>In lieu of paying any attention at all to that other memorial happening today, I've created my own private memorial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are our soldiers that have given their lives for us since June 25, 2009 when the media went into a frenzy because of the untimely death of that other guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Where are the gold caskets for these guys and girls?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This list is incomplete, but it was the best I could do. If anyone has a name to add, please feel free to leave a comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6/25/09&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Brian N. Bradshaw&lt;/span&gt;, 24, Army 1st Lieutenant, Steilacoom, WA&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Joshua L. Hazlewood&lt;/span&gt;, 22, U.S. Army Reserve Specialist, Manvel, Texas&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6/26/09&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Peter K. Cross&lt;/span&gt;, 20, U.S. Army Private 1st Class, Saginaw, TX&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6/28/09&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Steven T. Drees&lt;/span&gt;, 19, U.S. Army Private, Peshtigo, WI&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Timothy A. David&lt;/span&gt;, 28, U.S. Army Sergeant, Gladwin, Michigan&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6/29/09&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Terry J. Lynch&lt;/span&gt;, 22, U.S. Army Sergeant, Shepherd, MT&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Roger L. Adams Jr.&lt;/span&gt;, 36, U.S. Army National Guard Sergeant, Jacksonville, NC&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Juan C. Baldeosingh&lt;/span&gt;, 30, U.S. Army National Guard Sergeant, Newport, NC&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Robert L. Bittiker&lt;/span&gt;, 39, U.S. Army National Guard Specialist, Jacksonville, NC&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Edward C. Kramer&lt;/span&gt;, 39, U.S. Army National Guard Sergeant 1st Class, Wilmington, NC&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7/2/09&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Charles S. Sharp&lt;/span&gt;, 20, U.S. Marine Lance Corporal, Adairsville, GA&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7/4/09&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Aaron E. Fairbairn&lt;/span&gt;, 20, U.S. Army Private 1st Class, Aberdeen, WA&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Justin A. Casillas&lt;/span&gt;, 19, U.S. Army Private 1st Class, Dunnigan, CA&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7/6/09&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;6 yet unnamed U.S. Army soldiers&lt;/span&gt; killed Afghanistan&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlOfpRGZq3I/AAAAAAAAAJE/H6zUj8Zjvb0/s1600-h/boots-and-rifles-memorial.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlOfpRGZq3I/AAAAAAAAAJE/H6zUj8Zjvb0/s400/boots-and-rifles-memorial.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355799913187355506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;IT IS THE SOLDIER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the Soldier, not the minister&lt;br /&gt;Who has given us freedom of religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the Soldier, not the reporter&lt;br /&gt;Who has given us freedom of the press.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the Soldier, not the poet&lt;br /&gt;Who has given us freedom of speech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the Soldier, not the campus organizer&lt;br /&gt;Who has given us freedom to protest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the Soldier, not the lawyer&lt;br /&gt;Who has given us the right to a fair trial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the Soldier, not the politician&lt;br /&gt;Who has given us the right to vote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,&lt;br /&gt;Who serves beneath the flag,&lt;br /&gt;And whose coffin is draped by the flag,&lt;br /&gt;Who allows the protester to burn the flag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--CHARLES M. PROVINCE&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlOf34C0T2I/AAAAAAAAAJM/EckP1lQGPgQ/s1600-h/soldiers-casket.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 323px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlOf34C0T2I/AAAAAAAAAJM/EckP1lQGPgQ/s400/soldiers-casket.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355800164159475554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May they rest in peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-3622911809873904209?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/3622911809873904209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=3622911809873904209&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3622911809873904209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3622911809873904209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-own-private-memorial.html' title='My Own Private Memorial'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlOfpRGZq3I/AAAAAAAAAJE/H6zUj8Zjvb0/s72-c/boots-and-rifles-memorial.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-8977159613619701500</id><published>2009-07-06T14:53:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:45:17.449-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad day'/><title type='text'>Picture pages, or "Not fair!"</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I wake up in the morning like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJIT62tdPI/AAAAAAAAAIM/KeMslOp28yk/s1600-h/big-smiley-004a.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 136px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJIT62tdPI/AAAAAAAAAIM/KeMslOp28yk/s400/big-smiley-004a.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355422413950383346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and this is what inevitably happens...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJIiOu75LI/AAAAAAAAAIU/L-i7AKF3FYQ/s1600-h/big-smiley-004.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 136px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJIiOu75LI/AAAAAAAAAIU/L-i7AKF3FYQ/s400/big-smiley-004.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355422659804652722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just rolling right over all my good efforts like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tire marks are a bitch to scrub off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I have to get all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJMLBg5ujI/AAAAAAAAAIc/JqZW0DdLlNY/s1600-h/angry_woman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJMLBg5ujI/AAAAAAAAAIc/JqZW0DdLlNY/s400/angry_woman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355426659165649458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like being like that. I'd rather be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJN_CSk-LI/AAAAAAAAAIs/jGaQcdxdxwA/s1600-h/17873spongebob.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px; height: 184px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJN_CSk-LI/AAAAAAAAAIs/jGaQcdxdxwA/s400/17873spongebob.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355428652238829746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when they don't let up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...when they just can't quit rolling all over my good time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...smashing my happiness back into the ground just as I've started to dust it off again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...well, then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJOgV8wiWI/AAAAAAAAAI0/i625sYuqcos/s1600-h/angry_woman2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px; height: 238px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJOgV8wiWI/AAAAAAAAAI0/i625sYuqcos/s400/angry_woman2.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355429224451705186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody got a few of these I can borrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJQHLpfKxI/AAAAAAAAAI8/KKCYljXoMdk/s1600-h/coronas.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 344px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJQHLpfKxI/AAAAAAAAAI8/KKCYljXoMdk/s400/coronas.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355430991213046546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll give them back when I'm done. Empty, of course, but I think the bottles are worth 5 cents each in Michigan or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-8977159613619701500?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/8977159613619701500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=8977159613619701500&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/8977159613619701500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/8977159613619701500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/07/picture-pages-or-how-much-it-sucks.html' title='Picture pages, or &quot;Not fair!&quot;'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SlJIT62tdPI/AAAAAAAAAIM/KeMslOp28yk/s72-c/big-smiley-004a.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-2594593889475110993</id><published>2009-07-01T11:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:06:26.139-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not important'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coverage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soldiers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saturated'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michael Jackson'/><title type='text'>Observations from the Sidelines</title><content type='html'>There's an upheaval in Iran. Another terrorist bombing in Iraq. A Yemeni plane went down leaving one 14-year-old survivor from the 150 or so passengers aboard. A school bus stop shooting in Detroit that injured 7 kids ages 14 to 17 years old. And every news blurb I've received from CNN on my phone since last Friday all relate to Michael Jackson. Farrah died, too, after a very brave and tragic 3-year battle with cancer. Long-time household name Ed McMahon died earlier in the week. Attention to both deaths has been practically non-existent since Jacko died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, I understand Jackson was a pop legend and his passing was unexpected and all, but I consider details of his life, death, his kids' custody, the movement of his remains from this place to that place, the preparations for his viewing, and how many times his songs are being played to be SECONDARY news. Yes, I was surprised to learn that he died. Yes, I think he had a major impact on the &lt;b&gt;entertainment&lt;/b&gt; industry. Yes, I think it's a shame. But &lt;b&gt;ENOUGH ALREADY&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SmdxHBRYLII/AAAAAAAAAKE/YESlZ8KJAOw/s1600-h/earth_day-12676.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SmdxHBRYLII/AAAAAAAAAKE/YESlZ8KJAOw/s200/earth_day-12676.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361378246822210690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why have the news groups (almost every single one of them) determined for us that any Michael Jackson-related news is the most important news of the day? Why when I was watching the first 45 minutes of NBC's Today show this morning was it dominated by interviews with various Michael Jackson insiders and speculation on his drug use/abuse and there was no mention made of the school bus shooting in Detroit yesterday that injured seven teens?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree that Michael Jackson's passing is newsworthy, and that details of it are newsworthy, but as PRIMARY news? No. It's ENTERTAINMENT news. Secondary news. I don't want to see news related to him at the top of the hour and news of the struggle in Iran or the shooting of some teens just waiting for a school bus bumped to the "after thought" position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you hadn't heard, the House of Representatives held a moment of silence for Michael. Are you serious? Where's the moment of silence for Farrah and Ed, both pop culture icons as well, and both equally deserving of that kind of respect as long as they're doling it out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priorities of this country are bass-ackward, and they are unfortunately being dictated by what our journalists decide regarding what's the big news and what's the little news, what gets reported and what doesn't. If you want to know where the power is in this country, turn on one of the 24-hour news stations. It's not any of the newsmakers, it's the boys and girls who run those stations. They tell us what's important to us and what's not by deciding what goes at the top of the hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just follow along like stupid sheep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-2594593889475110993?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/2594593889475110993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=2594593889475110993&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/2594593889475110993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/2594593889475110993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/07/observations-from-sidelines.html' title='Observations from the Sidelines'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SmdxHBRYLII/AAAAAAAAAKE/YESlZ8KJAOw/s72-c/earth_day-12676.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-3943846574945857643</id><published>2009-06-22T09:11:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:09:33.908-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bank'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thank you'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='problems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bands'/><title type='text'>Monday Morning Bitchin'</title><content type='html'>After a hassle with my bank this morning, and a weekend incident that I might as well toss in for good measure, I thought I'd do a little bitching this morning. Feel free to ride along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me start with this morning. I made my car payment on Friday over the phone. My loan is with a credit union and they're a bit behind-the-times, technologically speaking. My life is virtually paperless. The credit union doesn't have a way to make an electronic payment online unless you have a checking account with them, which I don't. I have to either transfer from my bank, which can take up to 5 business days to go through so I hate that option, or I can drive to the credit union and make the payment, or I can make it over the phone for a $10 fee (whatever with that... that's something to bitch about another time). I opted to make it over the phone this month because I couldn't get over to the office to make the payment in person. I made my payment to them via my checking (debit) card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They called me this morning and said that Friday's transaction was getting declined with no explanation. I verified the information with them to be sure they didn't have a wrong number, expiration date, whatever. They had it all right. I was looking at my checking account balance online and there was nothing wrong there. There was no reason the transaction should have been declined. I hung up with the credit union and called my bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bank proceeds to tell me that it's being declined because I have a daily spending cap on my account and that transaction was over the cap. Huh?!?! I've had this account for 10 years. I've never had an issue with this before, and I know I've spent well over that spending cap within a day on numerous occasions. He said that it was just a fraud protection thing and promptly raised my cap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can understand the whole premise, but why had I not run into this before in my 10 years with this bank? He said it wasn't a new thing. What most irritated me is that I never approved that spending cap. They never asked me if it was ok to set it at that amount or should it be changed. Shouldn't I have been allowed to determine what the spending cap is on my own checking account?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smdx46uiP2I/AAAAAAAAAKM/BIFfdXE84OQ/s1600-h/I-hate-mondays.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 159px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smdx46uiP2I/AAAAAAAAAKM/BIFfdXE84OQ/s200/I-hate-mondays.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361379104058916706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the credit union back and the transaction went through without a problem. I just don't appreciate that I had to spend time this morning straightening out an issue that could have been avoided if my bank had given me the opportunity to chime in on what my spending cap should be on my checking account. Irritating... and it's Monday morning, which at least triples the irritation. It probably wouldn't have bothered me so much if it was Friday. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to bitch about something that happened over the weekend. This is solely my opinion. I'm not speaking for anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As anyone who knows me knows, my husband is a musician and many of our friends are in local bands. This past Saturday, we went to see some friends' band play at Whiskey Dick's. When we got there, we found out that a couple of country bands (Justin Moore and Emerson Drive, to be specific) were in town doing a show at WCOL's Country Jam. They had finished their show and had called up Whiskey Dick's to see if they could play there for the remainder of the evening. No pay, on the fly. Whiskey Dick's is one of the few country-friendly bars in Columbus. Our friends' band is rock, though. It was cool of these two national acts to want to do this because they were giving their fans a treat (being able to see them in a more intimate setting), they weren't asking for any money, and they brought in a nice pack of people (their fans) that were paying cover, from which our friends' band was getting paid. So far so good, and really no biggie at that point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they showed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who knows me also knows my very low tolerance for arrogance. Confidence is a great thing, but arrogance makes you look like ass. Before I start, I want to say that I did meet one of the band members for Justin Moore and one from Emerson Drive and they were both very nice, very polite. No problem with either of them at all. I had a problem with the couple of them who strutted in with an attitude and then proceeded to tell my friends' band that they could only play for a half-hour. Big of them, don't you think? My friends were intending to play one set... an hour... and then give them the stage. That's more than reasonable. Keep in mind that they had the whole night booked for themselves before these national acts placed their call to the bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they played their half-hour and let the national acts have the stage. Now here's where I get to my real beef about this. Not one single person in either of these bands said thank you to the band whose show they just highjacked. One simple sentence would have sufficed: "Thank you to so-and-so for letting us highjack their show tonight." Not one word was mentioned. Absolutely no respect shown whatsoever for the musicians who just gave up their spot for you at a few short hours notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the future, these two bands -- Justin Moore and Emerson Drive -- might want to keep this in mind. I applaud these after-show shows that give your fans the opportunity to see their favorite bands in a more intimate setting. More national acts should do it. It shows great respect for your fans. However, if you're highjacking a local band's show to do this, you should at least have the respect for the local musicians you're bumping to offer up a simple thanks to them. It's arrogant of you not to do it. It would only take a minute of your time to mention it to the crowd. You might not think it's important. I say that not doing this simple little thing says a lot about your band and it doesn't reflect well on you to the people who were there to see the band whose show you highjacked. I don't care if you're Hank Williams, Jr. or Garth, I would expect the same from them, too. No one is above a simple thank you, and this local band deserved a thank you from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I being too judgmental about this because I have such a pet-peeve about arrogance or am I right for thinking they should have at least offered up a thanks in this situation?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-3943846574945857643?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/3943846574945857643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=3943846574945857643&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3943846574945857643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3943846574945857643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/06/monday-morning-bitchin.html' title='Monday Morning Bitchin&apos;'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smdx46uiP2I/AAAAAAAAAKM/BIFfdXE84OQ/s72-c/I-hate-mondays.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-4038057885202477046</id><published>2009-06-09T13:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:11:14.087-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amusing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad spellers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Craigslist'/><title type='text'>Bad Spellers Amuse Me</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been looking around for a good deal on some new furniture for our deck and, like the savvy shopper that I am, Craigslist has obviously been included in my search. Very often on there I come across "rod iron" patio sets or tables and it makes me giggle every time I see it. I think it must have started with one person spelling it that way and others taking the cue that it's the correct spelling and including it that way in their own posts. Surely, not that many people think it's "rod iron." FYI for anyone who actually does think that's the proper spelling... it's &lt;b&gt;wrought&lt;/b&gt; iron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, ok. I see how people might be confused. It sounds like "rod" when you say it fast enough, and it actually looks like a bunch of rods welded together. I guess I can see how people would jump on the "rod iron" bandwagon. And it does amuse me, after all, so no harm, no foul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SmdyStEd_EI/AAAAAAAAAKU/jc2R0-mElW0/s1600-h/bad+spellers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 148px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SmdyStEd_EI/AAAAAAAAAKU/jc2R0-mElW0/s200/bad+spellers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361379547069414466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I was perusing Craigslist once again and came upon a new one that made me chuckle (instead of just a giggle). It was someone selling a "Chip N Dale" armoire. I kid you not. That's exactly how it was spelled. What was most ironic is that the poster spelled "armoire" correctly. I suppose that word was just difficult enough that he (or she) couldn't figure out how to write it without looking it up. Chippendale is easy. Just go for the most obvious pop culture reference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my question is: was the "Chip N Dale" armoire crafted by a pair of cute little chipmunks, made specifically for a pair of cute little chipmunks, or does it come with a pair of cute little chipmunks? Should I send the poster a message and ask, do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-4038057885202477046?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/4038057885202477046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=4038057885202477046&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/4038057885202477046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/4038057885202477046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/06/bad-spellers-amuse-me.html' title='Bad Spellers Amuse Me'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SmdyStEd_EI/AAAAAAAAAKU/jc2R0-mElW0/s72-c/bad+spellers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-3073169863962828452</id><published>2009-06-04T13:32:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:18:04.840-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wondering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='volunteer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='philosophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meaning'/><title type='text'>Just a speck</title><content type='html'>Maybe it's my age, or maybe it's my OCD (it causes the mind to race with repetitive thoughts), but every once in a while I get into this mode of questioning my purpose. What have I done? What haven't I done? What more can I do? What significance does it have in this vast and complicated world anyway? Does any of it truly have any meaning at all? Is it enough? Will it ever be enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose everyone goes through these questions from time to time. Maybe it's not that unusual after all. For me, however, it seems like my mind gets stuck in that gear for a while and not having the answers to those questions drives me mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm your average person, living an average life, working an average job, with an average family. So what have I truly done in my 41 years that has significance... and then, how much significance does it really have when all is said and done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've spent quite a bit of time on volunteer work over the years. I've worked in pet shelters and for dog rescue groups. I've organized several charity fund raising events. I've donated money to organizations I believe in. I've voiced my opinion on topics about which I feel strongly (I'm nothing if I'm not outspoken). I've used my design skills to design and sell a whole mess of t-shirts promoting pet adoption and spaying/neutering and the banning of puppymills and the like (the more people who wear them across the country, the more the word spreads).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smdz13PFDfI/AAAAAAAAAKc/7io90TwiXhI/s1600-h/tiny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smdz13PFDfI/AAAAAAAAAKc/7io90TwiXhI/s320/tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361381250605321714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this, and yet it always comes back to the one most important question for me: is this my purpose or is there something else I should be doing that I've been missing all along? I want to make a difference in the world, not just flow with it. I don't want to be a bystander. I want to be involved. I think the real question is, why do I sometimes feel that I haven't been involved &lt;b&gt;enough&lt;/b&gt; despite the fact that I have a pretty good track record of putting myself out there and trying to make a difference?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if it really just comes down to my mind "playing tricks on me." I'm a perfectionist -- always have been -- but I'm most critical of myself. You could say I'm my own worst enemy. Maybe I'm just seeing myself as not doing enough because nothing I do is ever good enough for &lt;b&gt;me&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the days when all I did was live and breathe writing and painting, people would give me sincere compliments on my work and I would immediately point out all the flaws in it. I didn't want them to give me credit for good work when I didn't feel it was perfect enough to warrant a compliment. I finally got past that frame of mind, or so I thought. Maybe I never really got past it. Maybe it just shifted from my creative endeavors to my life in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damned OCD making me obsess over stupid thoughts like this. Did I mention I tend to over-analyze everything, too. That's not the OCD in me... that's the Virgo. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-3073169863962828452?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/3073169863962828452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=3073169863962828452&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3073169863962828452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3073169863962828452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/06/just-speck.html' title='Just a speck'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smdz13PFDfI/AAAAAAAAAKc/7io90TwiXhI/s72-c/tiny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-5524545077069040247</id><published>2009-05-21T14:12:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:42:31.374-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='murder'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='child'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abuse'/><title type='text'>If you don't want them, don't have them</title><content type='html'>Came across another heartbreaking CNN story... (&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/05/21/nm.buried.boy/index.html?eref=rss_topstories"&gt;read it here&lt;/a&gt;)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The especially cruel part -- not that killing your own child isn't cruel enough -- is that she suffocated him, changed her mind, performed CPR on him and brought him back to life, then decided to follow through with it and suffocated him &lt;b&gt;again&lt;/b&gt;. Her excuse was that she didn't want him to grow up unloved like she did. Damn, woman! There were plenty of options before you got pregnant and plenty of options after. Did you have to have a child at all? She sounds like she has mental problems (depression, etc.), but it's so heartbreaking for that poor little boy. What must have been going through his mind when his mommy killed him not once, but twice?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-5524545077069040247?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/5524545077069040247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=5524545077069040247&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5524545077069040247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5524545077069040247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-you-dont-want-them-dont-have-them.html' title='If you don&apos;t want them, don&apos;t have them'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-1437342938792744415</id><published>2009-05-13T08:58:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:19:30.029-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hypocrits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not important'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='christian beliefs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gay marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miss California'/><title type='text'>Really? Is it that important?</title><content type='html'>Sheesh. I keep seeing all these people on the internet both bashing and praising Miss California's answer to the "gay marriage" question during the Miss USA competition. Some people are calling her dumb. And Miss California is dumb why? Because she was honest in her answer and it didn't match the stand these people take on the subject? Wow. It's incredibly hypocritical to preach tolerance and the acceptance of any select social, race, or faith group and then in the very same breath say incredibly rude and obnoxious (and unfounded, I might add) things about her for being part of one of those groups (Christian) that doesn't share your belief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smd0P7yFqiI/AAAAAAAAAKk/PfYbOcApqXs/s1600-h/misscalifornia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 189px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smd0P7yFqiI/AAAAAAAAAKk/PfYbOcApqXs/s200/misscalifornia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361381698502502946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contrary to popular belief, it's not always those who perceive themselves as being targeted who are being the oh-so-tolerant ones, judging by how incredibly intolerant and name-calling they are of anyone who doesn't share their beliefs. For anyone who doesn't know, the Perez judge that asked that question later called Miss California a "b*tch" and a "c*nt" for her answer. Yeah, that's tolerance alright. Same as everyone who calls her stupid because she said she was against it. Way to make your point. Look like an angry, name-slinging child and maybe people will take your belief seriously. That's the way to win people over to your side. Not to mention that very often people who are saying she was wrong (and stupid and a b*tch) mention Christianity as some sort of evil and stupid and blah blah blah. Where is your tolerance for people who have Christian beliefs? You're allowed to be intolerant of them and call them names, but one of them can't give you an honest (and also polite... she wasn't bashing anyone) answer to a direct question about her beliefs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hypocrits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, I have to just say this (what I've been thinking all along)... people, this IS a beauty contest we're talking about. Everyone is paying waaaay too much attention to this. Who cares what miss beautiful California thinks? (Which, btw, is the same position Obama takes on gay marriage. I guess he's dumb, too.) I guarantee you that she didn't get into the competition because of her mind. The title is awarded primarily for BEAUTY, regardless of what they claim. I've never seen an ugly (or even slightly unattractive) Miss Any-state. The question and answer game at the end is only so the womens rights groups won't have a hissy and shut them down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in conclusion, just a bit of advice. Do what you will with it, but here it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't preach tolerance and expect it to work in your favor if you don't practice it yourself. Every bash on Christianity or Republicans or conservatives or whatever that slips out of your mouth (or keyboard) reflects on exactly how intolerant &lt;U&gt;you&lt;/U&gt; are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choose your battles. In the case of Miss California, I would say that she was a little firecracker that everyone should have just quietly walked around. Instead, they've been sidetracked by her. Silly kids. There are much bigger battles up ahead that actually would mean something to your fight for the right to gay marriage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-1437342938792744415?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/1437342938792744415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=1437342938792744415&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/1437342938792744415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/1437342938792744415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/05/really-is-it-that-important.html' title='Really? Is it that important?'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/Smd0P7yFqiI/AAAAAAAAAKk/PfYbOcApqXs/s72-c/misscalifornia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-8935192199482970158</id><published>2009-05-06T10:50:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:41:12.734-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='murder'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='innocence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='child'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abuse'/><title type='text'>What the hell is wrong with people?!</title><content type='html'>There's something far worse than swine flu going around. It's this total disregard for life and the innocents (the true innocents, our kids) are getting the worst end of it. I read this story on the CNN website this morning (see the link at the end for the actual CNN story) and I'm at a total loss as to what could possess anyone to do such a thing and not be completely insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This 21-year old dumbass (barely an adult himself) got into an argument with his ex-girlfriend at her apartment and picked up her 3-month-old son's car seat, with her son still in it, and threw it onto the concrete floor. Oh, but he didn't stop there. He then kidnapped the baby and proceeded to throw him out of a moving car on the interstate -- &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; in his car seat. Just tossed him out the window. A passing motorist found this little 3-month-old body on the road where he died of -- surprise -- blunt force trauma to the head. &lt;b&gt;3 friggin' months old!&lt;/b&gt; What would possess anyone to do such an incredibly cruel thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when people considered the consequences of their actions? Remember when you were an outcast for being a criminal? Remember when we had some kind of social, moral, ethical, whatever you want to call it, values and the thought of throwing a 3-month-old baby out of a moving vehicle would never even cross our minds? Look at us now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more violence we see and hear about, the more we become numb. Nothing shocks us anymore. We've created a society that hungers for the extreme. Sadly, that extreme is coming out in ways that are making our younger (and youngest) generation suffer. Violence and extremes are now the norm and to cause someone else pain -- to exact that huge negative act of revenge -- young minds are automatically turning to deeds more gruesome than ever before. It's not a new scenario, but it's definitely now an epidemic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our kids are eating themselves alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the actual CNN story: &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/05/05/florida.child.thrown/index.html?eref=rss_topstories"&gt;Florida Man Charged With Murder After Baby Thrown From Car&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-8935192199482970158?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/8935192199482970158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=8935192199482970158&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/8935192199482970158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/8935192199482970158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-hell-is-wrong-with-people.html' title='What the hell is wrong with people?!'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-5633035412336001725</id><published>2009-04-16T08:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:40:37.637-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='America&apos;s Got Talent'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Susan Boyle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='singer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Britain&apos;s Got Talent'/><title type='text'>How to have your spirits lifted</title><content type='html'>I've been hearing about this on the news the last several days, but haven't had a chance yet to stop and listen to any of the reports except in passing. If you truly want an uplifting experience this morning, tap into this YouTube video of Susan Boyle on &lt;i&gt;Britain's Got Talent&lt;/i&gt; (the link is below).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SecrEywuJsI/AAAAAAAAAGc/-xlKk5hFWgY/s1600-h/susanboyle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SecrEywuJsI/AAAAAAAAAGc/-xlKk5hFWgY/s320/susanboyle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325272445734495938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Just try to stop me from buying her first album. Simon's working on getting her a recording contract whether she wins this contest or not. Ms. Boyle is 47, unemployed, never been kissed, nothing to look at, but by God, this woman has been blessed with one of the most beautiful, flawless, true voices I've heard in a while. She shocked everyone, and that's the most uplifting part of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the link to the full video on YouTube...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY"&gt;Susan Boyle Blows Away Simon Cowell&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incredible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-5633035412336001725?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/5633035412336001725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=5633035412336001725&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5633035412336001725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5633035412336001725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-to-have-your-spirits-lifted.html' title='How to have your spirits lifted'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SecrEywuJsI/AAAAAAAAAGc/-xlKk5hFWgY/s72-c/susanboyle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-5140224462478016578</id><published>2009-04-15T15:00:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:39:49.197-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='artistic expressions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jayleigh'/><title type='text'>Artistic Expressions</title><content type='html'>After planning on doing it for years (and years and years), I've finally found the time to start getting some of my art online and for sale. Below are a few samples of my work. To see everything (I'm adding new stuff regularly), go to my gallery at &lt;a href="http://jayleigh.imagekind.com/"&gt;Imagekind&lt;/a&gt; or my art site at &lt;a href="http://jayleigh.cape-designs.com/"&gt;Artistic Expressions&lt;/a&gt;. If you're interested in buying prints, you can buy them either framed or unframed (so you can frame them yourself). The unframed prints are cheaper than buying them framed. All my work is signed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything you see here and in my gallery is 100% digital vector done in Adobe Illustrator. Someday I might find the energy and/or initiative to get some of my old traditional art scanned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Floral Beauty" and "Floral Spirit"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;These are available as a set or separately. The one on the left is "beauty" and the one on the right is "spirit." That's what the Chinese symbols mean.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYv-AlaWSI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Y1-q3XAHoWE/s1600-h/floral-beauty+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 161px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYv-AlaWSI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Y1-q3XAHoWE/s320/floral-beauty+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324996351767501090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ... &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYwG-0VPZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/lHu6gukqESA/s1600-h/floral-spirit+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 161px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYwG-0VPZI/AAAAAAAAAFk/lHu6gukqESA/s320/floral-spirit+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324996505912032658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Calla Lilies"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYwvuf1n-I/AAAAAAAAAFs/ldfE5GQVNno/s1600-h/calla+lilies+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYwvuf1n-I/AAAAAAAAAFs/ldfE5GQVNno/s400/calla+lilies+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324997205905743842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Lily and Vines Abstract"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYw_VYwvqI/AAAAAAAAAF0/q-2_wLCtms4/s1600-h/lilly+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYw_VYwvqI/AAAAAAAAAF0/q-2_wLCtms4/s400/lilly+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324997474043084450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"It's a Girl Thing"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Chocolate and shoes. Yep, it's a girl thing.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYxh5PXVII/AAAAAAAAAF8/8imIAVzAQW4/s1600-h/girl+thing+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 302px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYxh5PXVII/AAAAAAAAAF8/8imIAVzAQW4/s400/girl+thing+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324998067782898818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Violet Eyes"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYx15xY4vI/AAAAAAAAAGE/DKZsT6b-IgY/s1600-h/violet+eyes+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYx15xY4vI/AAAAAAAAAGE/DKZsT6b-IgY/s400/violet+eyes+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324998411522990834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Kewpie Girl 1" and "Kewpie Girl 2"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;There are more of these to come. They are fashioned after those old china doll heads. Cute for a girl's room.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYyYd7MRdI/AAAAAAAAAGM/pX-2exgk0k0/s1600-h/kewpie+girl+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYyYd7MRdI/AAAAAAAAAGM/pX-2exgk0k0/s320/kewpie+girl+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324999005343335890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ... &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYyhht0BOI/AAAAAAAAAGU/DEeNIQsT2aA/s1600-h/kewpie+girl+2+framed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYyhht0BOI/AAAAAAAAAGU/DEeNIQsT2aA/s320/kewpie+girl+2+framed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324999160979784930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-5140224462478016578?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/5140224462478016578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=5140224462478016578&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5140224462478016578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/5140224462478016578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/04/artistic-expressions.html' title='Artistic Expressions'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeYv-AlaWSI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Y1-q3XAHoWE/s72-c/floral-beauty+framed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-3821965686831471875</id><published>2009-04-13T09:27:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:39:29.806-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='goodbye'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer'/><title type='text'>Two weeks</title><content type='html'>It was two weeks ago today that I lost Chance, and these past two weeks have been off-kilter. I know there are people out there who don't connect with their pets the way we do, so for those of you who don't, you probably won't get why losing Chance has been difficult for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeNRjP6eX_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/is9bj5Qd2s0/s1600-h/chance2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeNRjP6eX_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/is9bj5Qd2s0/s320/chance2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324188850491121650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Chance was my first dog. Not truly my first. We had a dog for a couple of years when I was growing up, but I won't go into Joe and his fate. Chance was &lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;my&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; first dog. Until her, I'd always owned cats. Until her, I'd never known that I was truly a dog person instead of a cat person. I loved my cats, don't get me wrong, but cats are so independent that forming a bond with them is different than the bond you form with a dog. Dogs are so interactive and loyal to you, and more dependent on you than are cats. They are truly children in fur clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chance followed me everywhere. She would lay outside the bathroom door, or the garage door, or the basement door, whenever I disappeared behind them, and she would wait for me to come back. She would lay in front of the refrigerator or the sink while I was cooking. She would lay beside me (she had her "special spot") on the couch whenever I sat or laid on it. She was so present in my life that every day these past two weeks without her, I've expected to find her in her usual places. I've found myself having flashes of momentary panic when I didn't see her where she was supposed to be. My initial thought of "Oh, my God, did I leave her outside?" would be immediately replaced with the knowledge that she's not here anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it's the grieving process that I'm going through. I know she's not here. Her ashes are home with us now, perched on the entertainment center alongside her picture and just a few shelves away from the others we've lost over the last four years. Mardigan, my cat of 15 years who died in 2005, and Chance's first animal companion, is on the shelf below her. On the opposite side are Gidget, the little stray my husband found that was with us a brief 9 months before she died quickly of IHA in 2006, and Taylor, our German Shephard who we lost in 2007. When you have so many pets, you have to get used to losing them. But you never truly get used to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still there are Sara and Willie, Eric's cats that he had when we met. I had Mardigan and Chance; he had Sara and Willie. Sara will be 19 this year and Willie just turned 18. It's only a matter of time before we're grieving again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs are relatively young yet. Vai just turned 8 years old in March and is now our oldest pup. He spent 7 and a half of his 8 years as Chance's best fur buddy. He's been grieving, too... mellow and a little out of sorts. He knows she's gone. He's quietly accepted it. Nuno turned 6 in January, and our latest addition, Satch, turned 1 at the beginning of this month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeNStqkkagI/AAAAAAAAAFU/6oln4krxoWg/s1600-h/chance1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeNStqkkagI/AAAAAAAAAFU/6oln4krxoWg/s200/chance1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324190128957319682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When you have them, it's inevitable that they will go before you. I couldn't, however, imagine my life without them, even though I know that one day the painful decisions and difficult losses will come. The short time they are with us on this earth is so completely filled with love and devotion and, if we're lucky, an incredible connection that surpasses anything that could be found within human relationships. There's no jealousy, no judgment, no anger or distrust. There's just unconditional devotion and love. If we as human beings don't tap into that special relationship that can be found between man and dog, we're missing a beautiful part of life that turns us into better people in the long run. Though I know someday that each one of them will leave me before I'm ready to let them go, I'd rather have the short time with them there than not have them at all just to avoid the pain of losing them. When we grieve for them, we're showing respect for everything they gave to us while they were here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In these past two difficult weeks, I've found myself remembering things about Chance that I'd forgotten. The way Mardigan (a 25-pound cat in his prime -- he was a Maine Coone) had finally gotten annoyed with her when she was a pup. Right after I got her, she continually bounced around him, roughly a third of his size, and tried to get him to play with her. About a week of this and he'd finally had enough (and for Mardigan, that took a lot... he was the most laid back cat in the world). He grabbed her by the back of the neck like a mama cat would do to its kittens and held her to the floor. She cried so loudly, like he was killing her, but when he let her up, she never bothered him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeNSWwhISYI/AAAAAAAAAFM/oE6ZFAQ8k40/s1600-h/chance3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeNSWwhISYI/AAAAAAAAAFM/oE6ZFAQ8k40/s200/chance3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324189735416514946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I also remember the beautiful evening when she was still our only dog and the two of us were on our back patio. I was lounging in a chair and she was sitting by me when both of us, at the same time, saw a "cat" quietly approach one end of the patio. Chance immediately charged, and she was almost to it when I saw the white stripe down the back of the "cat." I yelled "NO!" and jumped up to throw open the patio door and get her inside out of harm's way. She spun around immediately and went directly into the house, but it was too late. She'd been sprayed. She took that skunk smell right in with her. I had to open every window in the house and do the best I could to get the smell out of her. Bath after bath, didn't matter. That smell stuck to her for weeks. Luckily the house aired out overnight. The skunk never returned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was the day when Eric let her outside and didn't realize that the meter readers had been into the yard and left the gate open. I came home from work an hour or so after he'd let her out and there she was on the front porch, by the front door, waiting to go inside. She'd chewed through the screen on the screen door trying as hard as she could to get back to her humans, but she never wandered off. Our street was a busy one, and we were only three houses from the 4-lane, 45-mph road that intersected our street. She could have easily been hit, but she didn't want to go anywhere. She just wanted back into her home to be with her family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how you remember the silly little things after they're gone. She had a good life. She was spoiled rotten and very loved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-3821965686831471875?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/3821965686831471875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=3821965686831471875&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3821965686831471875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/3821965686831471875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/04/two-weeks.html' title='Two weeks'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SeNRjP6eX_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/is9bj5Qd2s0/s72-c/chance2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-7118482852250515471</id><published>2009-03-31T08:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:39:07.263-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer'/><title type='text'>No words</title><content type='html'>Rest in peace, Chance. My first dog and 12 long years as my shadow. 5-year breast cancer survivor. 3/30/09... cancer won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCQ2UEMI/AAAAAAAAAEk/TZ7lRLgYIow/s1600-h/chance2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCQ2UEMI/AAAAAAAAAEk/TZ7lRLgYIow/s400/chance2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319332840458162370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCKSChBI/AAAAAAAAAEc/XU4lhZPwUIQ/s1600-h/chance1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 366px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCKSChBI/AAAAAAAAAEc/XU4lhZPwUIQ/s400/chance1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319332838695404562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCX7GSkI/AAAAAAAAAEs/vRQxh4XqVzE/s1600-h/chance3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCX7GSkI/AAAAAAAAAEs/vRQxh4XqVzE/s400/chance3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319332842357279298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCWC93aI/AAAAAAAAAE0/Wv3I-6n6dbk/s1600-h/chanceandvai.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCWC93aI/AAAAAAAAAE0/Wv3I-6n6dbk/s400/chanceandvai.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319332841853410722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-7118482852250515471?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/7118482852250515471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=7118482852250515471&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7118482852250515471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7118482852250515471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-words.html' title='No words'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/SdIRCQ2UEMI/AAAAAAAAAEk/TZ7lRLgYIow/s72-c/chance2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-7338148449051077215</id><published>2009-03-22T21:11:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:38:25.163-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pledge Fabric Sweeper'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lovers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='best'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='invention'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='owners'/><title type='text'>Best Invention Ever for Pet Owners</title><content type='html'>I'm not normally one to go "selling" a product on my blog. For this little miracle , however, I have to tell everyone who owns a pet. I'm not being paid for this. I don't get a commission. I'm just blogging about it because it's &lt;i&gt;finally&lt;/i&gt; a product that does exactly what it promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend, I bought and had delivered a new sectional sofa for our living room. I'm so incredibly in love with this thing that I'm considering letting my husband have the bed and sleeping on the sofa instead, just to be closer to it. It's a big manufactured seude sofa in the most luscious deep red (what the manufacturer calls "Tuscan Red"). Here's a picture of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/ScbjqAV05dI/AAAAAAAAAEM/EVp61xqmQUI/s1600-h/100_4116b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/ScbjqAV05dI/AAAAAAAAAEM/EVp61xqmQUI/s400/100_4116b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316186720943007186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you may also notice in the picture that there's a dog on it (that's my baby boy Vai), and don't forget to notice the cat's head at the bottom of the picture. That's Willie. Willie has long, fine black and white fur (his coloring looks like that of a cow). Vai has some white fur on him, too. In addition to Vai and Willie, there's the other three dogs (Chance, Nuno and Satch) and one more cat (Sara). Three of our four dogs have white on them. The last one, Satch, is a scruffy white terrier mix (i.e., long, coarse white fur). Needless to say, we have a lot of shedding going on in our house. Shedding -- especially of white fur -- doesn't mix so well with a deep red sofa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/ScblMXZlh9I/AAAAAAAAAEU/6IX74OZfRl4/s1600-h/pledge_fabric_sweeper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/ScblMXZlh9I/AAAAAAAAAEU/6IX74OZfRl4/s400/pledge_fabric_sweeper.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316188410759972818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I saw a tv commercial this weekend for the Pledge Fabric Sweeper, so when I went to the store, I decided to give it a try. WOW! I will attest that this is one of the best inventions ever for pet owners. Whether you have one dog or cat, or you're like our house with multiples of both, you're going to want to get one of these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drawback is that it's disposable. Once the plastic container fills up, you toss it and buy another. Mine came with two $1 off coupons, though. And if you're like me and just don't want to impact the environment by throwing away all those plastic things, you can just modify it so you can empty and re-use it (yes, it's possible... follow this link... &lt;a href="http://www.instructables.com/id/Modify_a_Pledge_Fabric_Sweeper_so_you_can_empty_it/"&gt;Modify a Pledge Fabric Sweeper&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the mouth of someone who has 6 shedding pets and is forever cleaning up fur, this gadget is like waving a magic wand over your furniture. It really does work. And it makes my seude sofa look like I'd just vacuumed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a quick tip for those of you with pets, in case you haven't found this out already. Spray your furniture with Static Guard, wait a few minutes, then clean it (no matter how you clean it). Static Guard will make it so much easier to get the fur off, even if your just rubbing it into a little ball with your hands and then picking it off. It works. Try it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my product endorsement for the day. Not that I do this daily -- or ever -- but when I find something that actually works, I like the spread the good news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=meadogmuspro-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=12&amp;l=ur1&amp;category=homegarden&amp;banner=0GVFW1X6H1BBX6EHKW02&amp;f=ifr" width="300" height="250" scrolling="no" border="0" marginwidth="0" style="border:none;" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-7338148449051077215?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/7338148449051077215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=7338148449051077215&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7338148449051077215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/7338148449051077215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/03/best-invention-ever-for-pet-owners.html' title='Best Invention Ever for Pet Owners'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_8aqHRXpwyMY/ScbjqAV05dI/AAAAAAAAAEM/EVp61xqmQUI/s72-c/100_4116b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-9108663853215384241</id><published>2009-03-17T11:45:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:37:35.884-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tail gaters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad drivers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tailgaters'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frustration'/><title type='text'>Caught between a van and a VW bitch</title><content type='html'>Driving to work this morning, I'm cruising along behind a van that's going the 45 mph speed limit. Not too bad. I'd prefer at least 5 over, but he's not driving &lt;u&gt;below&lt;/u&gt; the limit, so that's cool with me. I hate it when people drive below the limit. Especially when the speed limit signs are clearly posted on this particular road every half-mile or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a third of the way to work, some dumb ass pulls out of a side street right in front of the van in front of me. Not only does he pull out super slow, causing the van (and, subsequently, me) to have to brake, but he charges his little clunker up to a grand 35 mph. (Remember that posted speed limit sign.) Ok, that was annoying. I called him a dumb ass under my breath, but what can you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about that time that the bitch in the sporty little gray VW came speeding up behind me. She was obviously in a huge hurry for wherever it was she was going because she started tail-gating me, even though she could clearly see the slow moving van in front of me. Not that she could see the idiot in front of the van that was actually causing the crawl, but she decided to teach &lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt; a lesson by keeping our bumpers within kissing distance. As if that would do any good. After all, she was in a hurry, dammit, and the rest of the civilized world was not going to slow her down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know me, you know I have zero tolerance for tail-gaters. It's rude and dangerous and... just so incredibly rude. I don't ever go below the speed limit, and very rarely do I go at the exact limit unless I know it's a speed trap area. So why be hatin' on me, you tail-gating sons-a-bitches? Back off at least half a car length, please! Anyway, I'll do everything in my power to piss off tail-gaters even more. It's fun to watch their expressions in my rear view mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there we were. An idiot holding up traffic, a van in front, me, and the bitch tailing me. At one point, she actually had the lady-like balls to swerve out to the left of me waaay into the oncoming lane to see what the hell was making that van go so slowly. Too bad she didn't get clipped by an oncoming car because I know she couldn't see around the van to tell if anyone was coming before she swerved out to take a look. Rude bitch. I mean, honestly, she absolutely knew what was going on (there's a slow car somewhere ahead.. duh!), yet she was stupid enough to be tail-gating &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; to make everyone ahead go faster. Genius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually the dumb ass in front of the van pulled off onto a crossing road. The van sped back up to the normal 45 mph. That wasn't good enough for her, of course. She continued to stick to my bumper. But I had an ace up my sleeve. I knew that up ahead the road widened to two lanes on either side. She probably knew that, too. But I also knew that Mr. Van liked to go the speed limit, and no more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get to the section where the road widens into two lanes. I speed up to go around the van, as I'm sure she expected someone driving a bright yellow Mustang GT with plates that say "horsepower" to do. I'm sure she's thinking, "Finally!" But does she realize what an ass she was just being to the one person that could let her get ahead of the slow people? Nope. Because the world revolves around her, remember? No way I'm letting her off that easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I speed up just enough to get me alongside the van that loves to go the exact speed limit... and that's where I stay. She's still trapped behind both of us, poor thing, and she's looking a little pissed in the rear view mirror. I hope she can see me smiling. Ah, sweet satisfaction. Hey, speeding is breaking the law, missy. I'm keeping your speed problem in check right now. I wouldn't have had to take these measures if you'd just &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;backed the fuck off my bumper!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, me and the van cruise along side-by-side for about a quarter of a mile before I have to turn. She's still tail-gating me, of course. Trying to push me. I don't budge because if she nails me, she's paying for it. With that nice shiny car, I know she has insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put on my turn signal like the good, respectful little driver that I am. Hers comes on, too. I turn, she follows, onto a 50 mph road. I gun it, so does she. When she catches up (catches up... haha), she starts tailing me again. I'm going between 55 and 60. She's just pissed at me now. I hit my brakes (gasp... was that a squirrel I saw in the road?). In my rear view mirror, I can see her long hair flop forward as she panics and hits hers. She backs off. Way off this time. She came a thin, wispy hair from rear-ending me and she knows it. She falls back, leaving about 3 car lengths between us, and that's where she stays the rest of the drive. Lesson learned, at least for this trek. I'm sure she'll forget it by the time she leaves for home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't get the tail-gaters logic. May I ask why those of you who tail-gate think that getting on someone's bumper will make them either go faster or get out of your way? Does that ever actually work? Are you just stupid enough to believe that it will work or is it your way of punishing people for being in front of you? (How dare they get on the road before you!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=meadogmuspro-20&amp;o=1&amp;p=42&amp;l=ur1&amp;category=automotive&amp;banner=07XN66RTCYTSR266F6G2&amp;f=ifr" width="234" height="60" scrolling="no" border="0" marginwidth="0" style="border:none;" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-9108663853215384241?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/9108663853215384241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=9108663853215384241&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/9108663853215384241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/9108663853215384241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/03/caught-between-van-and-vw-bitch.html' title='Caught between a van and a VW bitch'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-6857772440130586415</id><published>2009-03-16T14:12:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:36:58.262-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='signs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='domestic violence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='warnings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='issues'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abuse'/><title type='text'>Because every woman should know</title><content type='html'>Between 1985 and 1988, I lived within an abusive relationship. Abusive both emotionally and, eventually, physically. When I'd finally had enough (or been enlightened, however you want to describe it), I gathered male friends and family around me for protection and I kicked him out. He came back once to collect some things he'd left behind, called me some pretty nasty things, and spit on me on the way out the door. Thank God that was all he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across the following information on the internet and I want to post it for anyone who has found themselves in an abusive relationship. If you see yourself here, or even just in a few of these, start thinking about how to end it... how to leave. Especially if you have children. No matter how many "good points" he has, it's not worth it. It doesn't get better. He doesn't grow out of it. It isn't a phase. If anything, it only gets worse. It defeats your self-esteem. It gives you a warped sense of what love truly is. Trust me, it's &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; about love. It's about control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Recognizing what behaviors are part of domestic violence is not always easy, even for victims themselves. This is, in part, because domestic violence is much more than physical abuse. In fact, many battered women who are controlled by their partners and who live in danger and fear have never been physically assaulted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Understanding what domestic violence is means being aware of the many different things abusers do to control their partners. The following checklist of behaviors may help you decide if you or someone you know is being abused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does your partner…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Use emotional and psychological control?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Call you names, yell, put you down, make racial or homophobic slurs, or constantly criticize or undermine you and your abilities as a wife, partner or mother?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Behave in an overprotective way or become extremely jealous?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make it difficult for you to see family and friends, or "bad-mouth" your family and friends?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Prevent you from going where you want to, when you want to, and with whomever you want to?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Humiliate or embarrass you in front of other people?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Use economic control?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deny you access to family assets like bank accounts, credit cards or a car?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Control all the finances, force you to account for what you spend or take your money?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Prevent you from getting or keeping a job or from going to school?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Limit your access to health, prescription and/or dental insurance?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Make threats?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Threaten to report you to the authorities (the police, courts or child protective services) for something you didn't do?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Threaten to harm or kidnap the children?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make you afraid by using looks, actions or gestures?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Display weapons as a way of making you afraid or directly threaten you with weapons?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Use anger or "loss of temper" as a threat to get you to do what he wants?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Threaten to expose your sexual orientation to friends, family or employer, if you are gay or lesbian?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Threaten to report you to INS or immigration?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Commit acts of physical violence?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Carry out threats to hurt you, your children, pets, family members, friends or himself?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Destroy personal property or throw things around?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grab, push, hit, punch, slap, kick, choke or bite you?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Force you to have sex when you don't want to or to engage in sexual acts that you don't want to do?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Prevent you from taking medications or getting medical care?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deny you access to food, fluids or sleep?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the most common tactics used by abusers to control their partners, they are but certainly not the only ones. If your partner does things that restrict your personal freedom or make you afraid, you may be a victim of domestic violence. To find help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-SAFE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Information from the New York State Office for the Prevention of Domestic Violence, www.opdv.state.ny.us. Copyright © NYS Office for the Prevention of Domestic Violence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-6857772440130586415?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/6857772440130586415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=6857772440130586415&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/6857772440130586415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/6857772440130586415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/03/because-every-woman-should-know.html' title='Because every woman should know'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-4862679864275305968</id><published>2009-03-12T12:16:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:35:56.409-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bernie Madoff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attacks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shark'/><title type='text'>The biggest baddest shark</title><content type='html'>I saw this headline on Discovery News:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Shark Attacks Down in 2008 as Economy Tanks&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My unsolicited comment to this is: I disagree. 2008 was the worst year in history for shark attacks. Bernie Madoff accounts for 4,000 of them. Maybe they were just counting him as one big nasty shark. I say you can't count the shark who attacked, you have to count the victims.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-4862679864275305968?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/4862679864275305968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=4862679864275305968&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/4862679864275305968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/4862679864275305968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/03/sharks-and-economy.html' title='The biggest baddest shark'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-2676386313797098737</id><published>2009-03-06T10:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T13:35:18.753-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='telemarketers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='solicitors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phone'/><title type='text'>Must-read for Phone Solicitors</title><content type='html'>If you're in the unfortunate position of making sales calls for a living, no matter who you're working for, you should probably read this. I'm sure it won't change your practices (because you're most likely scripted anyway), and it won't impact your life, but it's something I just have to say and you might be interested to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work for a small company -- 7 employees in total. We all answer the phones here except for the owner, but I tend to be the one who ends up answering them the majority of the time just because I'm unfortunately good at this particular aspect of it -- weeding out all the sales calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a fake voicemail account set up here, with a fake employee (I'll call him Jim), and that's where we're dumping your calls when we "transfer you to his voicemail." We're fully aware that more often than not, you're taking Jim's voicemail just so you can get his name, and not to actually leave a message for him. What this means is, when you note Jim's name in your call records as the contact person, and you call back and ask for Jim, we know right off that you're a solicitor. Guess what? Jim's always unavailable and you'll always get dumped right back into the non-existent Jim's voicemail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We generally know you're a sales person by a few key things you say or by the background noise. You're not hiding anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your call starts with "I need to speak to the person in charge of," you're getting dumped to Jim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you say you're with our toner supply company and you're updating records and could I please give you the make and model number of our copier or printer, you don't get dumped to Jim. What happens here is we ask you what company you're with and you promptly hang up on us. (That one makes me laugh every time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you call and you're asking your buddy sitting next to you to get you some Skittles while he's down there, then you notice that we've answered and say you need to speak to so-and-so (the dreaded Melita dialer delay syndrome), we know you're a sales person. The person you ask for, no matter who it is, is automatically "unavailable." If you get me on the phone, I'm likely to interrupt your request just to tell you that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you ask to update information and the words "free subscription" are anywhere in your sentence, you're automatically told that we can't update anyone's information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you get me, and I tell you so-and-so is unavailable, knowing full well that you're a sales person, don't bother asking me when is the best time to reach so-and-so. You'll get the same response from me every time. I've perfected it. It goes like this: "You can try back at any time you want." Sometimes, if I'm 100% certain it's a sales call, I'll tack onto the end of that, "but you have to get through me first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't bother asking for a cell phone number or an email address unless we can identify you as a name we know or you can identify yourself as a family member.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a few of my favorites...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a guy call in for our owner, obviously a sales call because he asked for him like he was an old friend, but I could hear all the other sales people on their phones in the background. Here's how the conversation went (changing my boss' name to protect the innocent.. haha):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Me: Good afternoon, XYZ Corporation.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Is John there? (lots of other sales call chatter in the background)&lt;br /&gt;Me: He's unavailable. Would you like his voice mail?&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Can I get his cell number?&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm not allowed to give that out.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: I have it already, but I left it at home. I'm at work.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I can't give that out, sir. You'll have to go home and get it.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: I can't do that! My home is 2 hours away.&lt;br /&gt;Me: I can hear the other sales people in the background.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: That's not sales people. That's my wife. She won't shut up.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Why is your wife at the office with you instead of at home two hours away?&lt;br /&gt;(CLICK)&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, he hung up on me. Go figure. Here's another favorite:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Me: Good afternoon, XYZ Corporation.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Is John there?&lt;br /&gt;Me: He's unavailable. Would you like his voice mail?&lt;br /&gt;Guy: What's his cell phone number?&lt;br /&gt;Me: I can't give that out, sir.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: I'm an old friend of his.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah? What's his wife's name?&lt;br /&gt;(CLICK)&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lol! Sometimes, if I'm in one of those moods, I'll play with them just to entertain myself. This is the "Skittles" one I mentioned earlier:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Me: Good afternoon, XYZ Corporation.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: (Sales call chatter in the background) Hey can you get me some Skittles while you're down there?&lt;br /&gt;Me: (waiting)&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Here's a buck.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hello?&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Hello?&lt;br /&gt;Me: May I help you?&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Is this XYZ Corporation?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Is Dr. Ownerguy in?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Not at the moment. He's downstairs getting your Skittles.&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Shit.&lt;br /&gt;(CLICK)&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a good one. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-2676386313797098737?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/2676386313797098737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=2676386313797098737&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/2676386313797098737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/2676386313797098737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/03/must-read-for-phone-solicitors.html' title='Must-read for Phone Solicitors'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1108285027098370659.post-8759757467554102645</id><published>2009-01-30T10:25:00.019-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T12:21:31.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>25 Things About Me</title><content type='html'>I was tagged for this by a friend's Note on Facebook, but I'm doing it in my blog instead, since not everyone I know is on Facebook, but my blog automatically imports to my Facebook Notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;25 Things About Me&lt;/span&gt; that just might impact your entire way of life and make you rethink your concepts of the world as you know it ... hehe ... or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;For those who want to continue this on Facebook, here's the rules:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note* with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;And now...&lt;br /&gt;without further ado...&lt;br /&gt;here is my much anticipated, highly sought after list.&lt;br /&gt;Someone call CNN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I love to cook, but don't get to do it often enough. To me it's a form of creation. I'm pretty darned good at it, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. And speaking of creation, I have a constant need to create. It comes out in many different forms, but it's always there. Whether it's art, writing, cooking, jewelry-making, formulating a business plan, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I also have a need for frequent change. I can't stand for things to stay the same for too long. I start to go stir-crazy. I have to shake up the routine, buy something new and exciting, come up with some incredible idea on which to concentrate my energy, anything to keep my little world in constant motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I spent 23 hours in labor with my son and ended up having an emergency c-section at the end because his head was turned all screwy. I was wide awake and alert during the c-section. I figured if I could survive laying there for a half-hour knowing I was cut open from one side to the other, I could survive anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I have a shoe and purse fetish. I have storage tubs full of both and hoard them like they're gold. It's sad, with all the shoe-less, purse-less women in the world. I just try not to think about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Did I mention I'm OCD (that's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder for anyone who doesn't know)? What? You couldn't tell by numbers 2, 3 and 5? Ok, so I'm not just OCD. I've been diagnosed with the following by the therapist (you'll understand the therapist thing in just one second) I was seeing about five years ago: OCD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Mild Depression, and Hypochondria. Aren't you proud of me? I'm just a mixed bag of tricks. The person you should be proud of is my husband for putting up with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Speaking of #6, my therapist said it's all hereditary. That makes sense when you know that way back on my family tree -- oh, about five generations ago -- my mom's and dad's lines crossed at the same couple. Yep. Inbred. And we're not even from West Virginia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I taught ballroom dancing way back in the day. It was around '87 or '88. My specialty was the cha-cha. I can't remember anything now. If you don't use it, you lose it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I didn't realize how hard it was to come up with 25 things about myself. So #9 is that I don't like to think about myself so much that I have to come up with that many things to say about myself. This vaguely relates to number 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. My mom used to work for Burt Reynolds. She has all kinds of autographed memorabilia from him, from huge pictures to a bottle of wine circa 1973. Her best item is a huge, personally autographed lithograph of a famous shot of him from "Deliverance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Fresh out of high school and dreaming of the future, I was going to go to college to become either a psychologist or a lawyer. This is funny when you think about #6. You're allowed to laugh, because I did when I typed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. You know how they say that the smart ones are the most mentally screwed up. Yeah, well, I guess I'm a good example of that. According to the Mensa test I took, I'm at 153. That there is what them high-falutin' brainy folks call a genius IQ. This is funny when you remember #7 above. Again, feel free to laugh. I'm nothing if I'm not an enigma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Now I'm digging for things that I don't typically tell anyone (because isn't that what makes this fun?). This really is harder than it sounds. This one doesn't really count, but if I say it counts, then it's one less thing I have to come up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Way back before Al Gore invented the Internet, I used to dial up to various BBS to chat. If you know what that means, God love ya, because that means you're as old as me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. I have osteo-arthritis throughout most of my body. I was diagnosed early (at 36). My mom was diagnosed early. My sister has been diagnosed already and she's only 31. (See #7 above)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. I've written two full-length novels and have one that is partially done. I've never tried to publish them, though they're good. Life happened to me and I haven't had time to get back to them. This comes under the category of "Things I intend to do someday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. My grandpa used to carry strange things in his pockets. He carried a plastic turtle, a crab claw that he found at the beach, and a picture of a very ugly woman that he would pull out and show people and tell them it was his wife and say, "Isn't she pretty?" just to get a reaction from them. This isn't about me, but it's the thing I remember most about him. Cherished memories, so it counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. I have vowed that from this day forward I will always own a Ford Mustang. When I was young, my mom had one. My first real car was a Mustang, then I went for 14 long years without one. I'm now on my second one since 2006 and I'll never be without one again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. When I was little, we lived in a duplex that had this really long staircase. One day (I think this was before that "smarts" thing kicked in), I decided to do a somersault down one step. The top step. You have no idea how hard it is to stop yourself on stairs once you start going. I hit the bottom landing with no serious injuries, but it scared my mom to death. Did I mention that the stairs weren't carpeted? It seemed like a good idea at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. (Yea, number 20!) I've eaten fried daylilies. My dad used to gather the buds of daylilies before they opened and fry them in cornmeal. They're not bad. Did I mention my family is from the south? The hills of Virginia, near the Kentucky border, to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. I've also eaten squirrel, rabbit and venison. I was too young to know any better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. I was a full-blown vegetarian from 17 to 23. I ate dairy (but not eggs), and absolutely no meat, poultry or seafood. This might be related to #21.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I was broken by link sausages. I was frying them up for my ex-husband for breakfast and... the smell... and that bottle of syrup setting on the counter. Sausage smothered in syrup is evil. Pure evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. In a way, I'm looking forward to being an old, gray-haired lady and wearing obnoxiously loud clothes just so I can make people smile. Several years ago while I was stopped at a traffic light, I saw this cute little old woman crossing in the crosswalk in front of me. She was wearing neon green sneakers and a shirt that had multi-colored bows all over the front of it (sewn on, not printed on), and I had to smile. She was so cute because she still had enough spirit to wear things like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. (Thank God!) I started kindergarten at 4 and soon turned 5, then I skipped 2nd grade, so I ended up graduating from high school at 16. The only time the age difference between me and my classmates really occurred to me was when they were all going through puberty and filling out and I still looked like I was in grade school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheesh, that was tough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1108285027098370659-8759757467554102645?l=absurdandaskew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/feeds/8759757467554102645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1108285027098370659&amp;postID=8759757467554102645&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/8759757467554102645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1108285027098370659/posts/default/8759757467554102645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://absurdandaskew.blogspot.com/2009/01/25-things-about-me.html' title='25 Things About Me'/><author><name>Mustang Sally</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13012394337010592246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='02727420135096750682'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>