Gone Fishin'!

GrizzBabe is going on vacation.

Actually, the term "vacation" is misleading as I'm too broke to go anywhere.

I am taking the week off. How's that?

I'll be back to my old tricks in a week.

Tagged, again!

Thanks to Kilroy for the tag!

1. What time is it? 10:45 a.m on a Sunday. I went to Bedside Baptist this morning.

2. What was the last thing you had to eat? Breakfast -- biscuits, bacon and orange juice.

3. What is your favorite television program? Now, it's HGTV's House Hunters (I love buying houses vicariously through other people.) When basketball season starts, it will be NBA basketball Thursday nights on TNT with Ernie, King Charles and Kenny.

4. You can travel anywhere in the world; one destination per day from Friday through Monday. Where do you go? Chicago, New York, Paris, and the Tuscany region of Italy.

5. Who is your favorite character from a cartoon or comic strip? Fat Albert

6. What would you like for breakfast? I've already had breakfast. But had I not been so lazy this morning I would have fixed: scrambled eggs, bacon, rice with butter and sugar (a childhood favorite) and biscuits.

7. Who is the first public figure that comes to mind that you think is attractive? JFK, Jr.

8. Who, outside of your family and "God", has had the greatest impact on your life? My college roommate.

9. You retrieve a bottle floating in the water. What does the message say that you find inside? "Here is a winning Powerball ticket. Claim it and the money is yours."

10. What movies do you select {limit of six} for a one-day film festival? Three quirky French movies -- An Affair of Love, Dreamlife of Angels, and The Piano Teacher.

11. Do you have a hobby? If so, what is it? If not, what do you think would be of interest to you? Cooking

12. Given the opportunity to travel back in time, when would your destination be? History has not been kind to people of color, especially in this country. I don't think I would want to go back in time.

13. Vietnam gave us China Beach. M*A*S*H came from the Korean War. What will the name of the television series be that results from our current state of military affairs? How to Use Fear to Scare A Country into Going to War (Kind of rolls off your tongue doesn't it?)

14. What is the last book you read? Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs

15. What five people do you MEET in Heaven? My grandmother, Jesus, Jeffrey Dahmer, Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King.

17. What's the first thing that comes to mind when you see the word pleasure? Sex

18. Eliminating price and availability as considerations, what six things do you put on your list when you go grocery shopping? Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, Grand Marnier, saffron, Vahlrona chocolate, champagne.

19. What is your favorite non-blog related link? www.allrecipes.com

20. What will the title of your life story be? Beating The Odds.

21. What three people alive today would you like to have join you for dinner? Augusten Burroughs, George Bush (I'd like to tell him a thing or two), Ina Garten.

22. Which candle scent do you find most pleasing? Floral scents.

23. What question would you suggest I include the next time we play this game? Most embarrassing moment.

Men: Protect yourselves

Work is kickin' my ass right now so I decided to go through some draft posts to see what I could get up quickly and came across something I wrote back in June when it was announced that Prince Albert of Monaco had fathered yet another child out of wedlock. I'll try to get something new (and up to date) posted this weekend.

****************

Someone should tell Prince Albert of Monaco that they make condoms. They've been making them for quite some time now. I don't think he knows. He's certainly procreating like he doesn't know or at least doesn't care. Of course, Prince Albert can afford the luxury of not caring. He is rich enough to birth a dozen kids out of wedlock and lavishly provide for each one.

But indifference toward the use of condoms is not just an affliction of the rich. Men from all walks of life are more than willing to hop into bed without the proper protection. Protection, not just from unwanted pregnancy, but from sexually transmitted diseases as well. What is it about the opposite sex that makes men accept without question what women they hardly know tell them about their birth control methods or sexual health?

Some women can be conniving, opportunistic creatures. They will use what they have (read: sex) to get what they want, whether it be a man or his money. But this is no secret. Men know this. For ages, men have been the well publicized victims of unscrupulous women. And still, they refuse to protect themselves.

Lizard in an office

After barely graduating from high school, her son apparently had bribed enough of his college professors that the local university had no choice but to put him on the honor roll. The mother was so proud (not to mention shocked) that she asked us to print a writeup on his "accomplishment." She submitted the geekiest high school photo she could find to inform the entire community that her son wasn't the dunce cap-wearing bonehead they thought he was. We did our civic duty and printed the picture with a cutline lauding the student's questionable achievement. She had now returned to retrieve her son's photo.

She said, as I was searching for the picture, that it was the only one she had. I would have felt better had she told me she possessed a million copies as lone prints have a tendency to disappear inexplicably. I said a silent prayer of thanks when I discovered we hadn't managed to lose the photo. I handed it back to the proud mom. She thanked me again for publishing the photo and turned to exit the office.

That's when we saw it. A vicious lizard. It was grey with white markings and had a blue tail that looked as if the creature had been captured, it's tail wrapped in painter's tape and then set free. We were frozen in our tracks. Despite being only 4 inches long, I was certain if the reptile was allowed to get anywhere near us, it would swallow us whole.

We nervously devised a plan of action. Even though our first urge was to beat the thing senseless, we decided if we could somehow guide it out the door, that would be much more humane and a lot less messy. I grabbed a newspaper with the intention of using it to gently nudge the animal outside.

The lizard had other ideas.

When I leaned down and pointed the paper in the general vicinity of the reptile, it scurried off in the direction opposite of the door, seeking shelter in an empty cubbyhole of a bin where back issues are stored. I screamed like a scared kindergartner as it sprinted past me. Once the Proud Mom was able to coax me down from the ceiling fan, we came up with Plan B.

Plan B consisted of the Proud Mom repeatedly kicking the bin in an effort to freighten the lizard back into the great wide open. It wasn't working. I asked if she would rather use a broom. She declined. After several frustrating and agonizing moments trying to scare the lizard to freedom, the mild-mannered suburban mom decided she'd finally had enough.

"I'm tired of this motherfucking lizard in this motherfucking office!" she yelled. And with the authority of a drill sargent, she barked, "Get me that broom!"

This was no time for disobedience. I ran to the break room, grabbed the broom, then hurried back and deposited it in the Proud Mom's hands. She then proceeded to beat the floor with the broom while screaming at the lizard, "Go, lizard! Leave! Get out of here!" The startled lizard ran out of his protective hole. And with each swat of the broom against the floor, he inched his way back to freedom.

Her work being done, the Proud Mom took her photo and went home. In wonder and amazement, I watched from the doorway, broom in hand, as she drove her minivan into the sunset.

What?!? And I thought I answered the questions so well!

You Are A Bad Date!

Sometimes it just seems like your heart isn't in it At least, not unless the guy is a dead ringer for Brad Pitt (with more money) You just don't spend enough time wondering if he's having fun... And newsflash - he probably isn't!

Are You a Good Date?

I'm supposed to get paid for this?

You Are A Professional Girlfriend!

You are the perfect girlfriend - big surprise! Heaven knows you've had enough practice. That's why you're a total pro. If there was an Emily Post of girlfriends, it would be you. You know how to act in every situation ... to make both you and your guy happy.

I don't understand how I can be a bad date and a "professional" girlfriend?

What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?

I'm amazed at how accurate this is

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion: You have low extroversion. You are quiet and reserved in most social situations. A low key, laid back lifestyle is important to you. You tend to bond slowly, over time, with one or two people. Conscientiousness: You have medium conscientiousness. You're generally good at balancing work and play. When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done. But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it. (As evidenced by the fact that I am posting this from work while my boss is out of town!) Agreeableness: You have high agreeableness. You are easy to get along with, and you value harmony highly. Helpful and generous, you are willing to compromise with almost anyone. You give people the benefit of the doubt and don't mind giving someone a second chance. Neuroticism: You have low neuroticism. You are very emotionally stable and mentally together. Only the greatest setbacks upset you, and you bounce back quickly. Overall, you are typically calm and relaxed - making others feel secure. Openness to experience: Your openness to new experiences is medium. You are generally broad minded when it come to new things. But if something crosses a moral line, there's no way you'll approve of it. You are suspicious of anything too wacky, though you do still consider creativity a virtue.

The Five Factor Personality Test

My first tag!

Thank you, Old Lady, for tagging me! My very first tag. A momentous occasion.

1. A book that has changed your life. The Search for Significance by Robert S. McGee. This book told me a lot about myself -- why I feel the things I feel and do the things I do. It effected me at the very core of my being and I haven't been the same since.
2. A book you have read more than once. The answer to this is going to say a lot about my personality. I tend to read cookbooks like novels, anxiously turning the pages as if they were suspenseful thrillers. Grab any cookbook from my shelves and you will have picked a book that I have read countless times.
3. A book you would want on a desert island. Emotionally, I would not handle being on a desert island very well. I would need my Bible to help me remain calm and to keep me from hanging myself from a banana tree or from slitting my wrists with a coconut.
4. A book that made you laugh. The first book that comes to mind is Naked by David Sedaris. I remember sitting in my car in a McDonald's parking lot eating a quarter-pounder with cheese while reading the first few chapters. I laughed until there were tears streaming down my face. My goodness, that book was funny. Just this past Monday, I purchased tickets to hear David Sedaris speak in my city. I can't wait!
5. A book that made you cry. I don't cry very easily. It is rare for me to become that emotional during a movie or while reading a book. But if I did possess the ability to weep at the drop of a hat, I would have cried while reading Anne Sebold's Lucky, a memoir recounting her rape experience.
6. A book you wish you had written. Every fluffy chick lit novel that has ever been made into a multi-million dollar movie. Then I would be typing this post from my mansion in LA while filming an episode of MTV's Cribs instead of hacking away in a tiny guest bedroom/office in some podunk southern city.
7. A book you wish had never been written. The editor of our newspaper gets a lot of books in the mail in hopes that he would review them. Since our editor never reads books (go figure, an editor that never reads!), he usually passes them along to us. One of those books was What They Want by Omar Tyree. Forgive me for criticizing a brother trying to find his little piece of the American dream but that book was horrible.
8. A book you are currently reading. It's actually a book that I've read already, Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs. I am rereading it in an attempt to satiate my hunger while waiting for his most recent book, Possible Side Effects, to make it to paperback.
9. A book you have been meaning to read. For two summers I have wanted to read Nabakov's Lolita. Two summers have now passed and I still have not read it. At the beginning of the summer, a blog commenter, Steve, suggested I read Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I haven't read that yet either. The 1,000 plus pages are scaring me.
10. Now tag 5 people: Kissyface, CreativeSoul2005, Two Write Hands, Broken, Angel, Dre, and PlainJane. I know, that's 7 people.

Thank you, Lawdy!

After months of torture, my boss finally switched his radio from country music to a light rock station.

Blessed be the Lord! He doth answereth prayer.

Dayumn, Blogthings is good!

You Are Likely an Only Child

At your darkest moments, you feel frustrated. At work and school, you do best when you're organizing. When you love someone, you tend to worry about them. In friendship, you are emotional and sympathetic. Your ideal careers are: radio announcer, finance, teaching, ministry, and management. You will leave your mark on the world with organizational leadership, maybe as the author of self-help books.

The Birth Order Predictor

Everybody's a comedian

You Should Be a Joke Writer

You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation. Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life... You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material. You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Not just a B but a B+

You Have A Type B+ Personality

You're a pro at going with the flow You love to kick back and take in everything life has to offer A total joy to be around, people crave your stability. While you're totally laid back, you can have bouts of hyperactivity. Get into a project you love, and you won't stop until it's done You're passionate - just selective about your passions

Do You Have a Type A Personality?

This is such an accurate portrayal of my personality it's scary.

An independent woman's guide to replacing your car headlight

1. When you turn on the car engine and notice one of your headlights is out, curse.
2. Reminisce about the last time you attempted to change the bulb on your car headlight and recall what a pain in the ass it was because you had no idea what you were doing. Curse some more.
3. Concoct a way to dupe one of your male co-workers into changing it for you.
4. Go to your local auto supply store and tell the woman at the counter (who is obviously just the check out girl) that you need a new bulb for your headlight.
5. When she asks if it's the low beam or the high beam that's out, stare at her like she's speaking a foreign language.
6. When your silence causes her to go with the low beam option, wait for her to consult with one of the male employees because she's a woman like you and you assume she has no clue, just like you.
7. When she fails to confer with her male co-workers but proceeds to go get your bulb for you like she knows what the hell it is she's doing, which you're certain she doesn't, stifle your laughter.
8. When she promptly returns with bulb in hand, resist the urge to ask, "Are you sure this is the right bulb? Maybe you should double check this with him."
9. When the check-out girl asks for $8.95 for the bulb, think about how much money you're saving by doing it yourself. Well, you're not actually doing it yourself, you're gonna get someone else to do it for you but you get the point.
10. Walk into your office and announce that you had to purchase a new bulb for your headlight. Wonder out loud how on earth you're ever going to replace it all by yourself. Place back of hand on forehead for effect.
11. When your boss volunteers to do it for you, say "YES! I mean, would you? I would be so grateful!"
12. Watch from your air-conditioned office as your boss changes the bulb on your headlight in 95 degree heat.
13. When the bulb is installed and working properly, pat yourself on the back for being a liberated woman who is fully capable of taking care of herself.

Independent woman, my ass! Part II

All the women who are independent
Throw your hands up at me
All the honey's who makin' money
Throw your hands up at me
All the momma's who profit dollas
Throw your hands up at me
All the ladys who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me

chorus to Independent Woman by Destiny's Child

Sorry, Beyonce', I've turned in my independent woman card so I won't be throwing my hands up anymore. It's no great loss really. I'm sure you were looking for women who are actually independent instead of women who merely put up a facade of independence. I don't blame you. I wouldn't want me representing independent women either. Especially considering I gave up my last notion of being a self-reliant woman today when I discovered that one of the headlights on my car had gone out. Consistent with my true, unevolved self, I immediately started plotting ways to charm my male co-workers into changing the headlight for me. A low cut blouse was strongly considered.

I'm certain such tactics violate the ethical standards that have been set for independent woman everywhere. Independent women do not use their sexuality to get men to do their bidding and they handle their own minor auto repairs.

These are not the only standards in which I fail to measure up. From my observations, women who are self-sufficient are not afraid to go in their attics to change the filter on their air conditioner. Real independent women don't retch at the idea of disposing of a dead mouse. Truly liberated women scale ladders to clean their own gutters or change their own light bulbs.

I do none of these things. And I really don't want to, which is why I am forfeiting my membership. I don't want to have to deal with these little mundane tasks anymore. That's what men are for. If I were married, I'd be perfectly happy to simply putter around the kitchen wearing pearls and taffeta while my husband, Ward Cleaver, takes care of all those manly household chores. If I have to give that up, then you can have my independent woman card.

I am officially published!

I did it. I wrote my very first article. You can find it here at a business/personal development blog called FOR YOUR SUCCESS. This has been quite the learning experience for me. I had to face/deal with/conquer/ignore much fear and self-doubt. But I did it. I can do nothing but pat myself on the back for the accomplishment.

I am excited about the work I am doing at FOR YOUR SUCCESS. Not only do I get the chance to develop my writing skills but I get an opportunity to shed some of the fears that have held me back for years. It's about damn time!

Nobody accomplishes anything on their own, so I have a few thanks to dole out.

I want to thank the folks at FOR YOUR SUCCESS for encouraging me, believing in me and for taking me under their wing. In our busy society, mentoring is such a lost art and I appreciate it when people take it upon themselves to not only pass on what they know but to also provide an opportunity to put that knowledge into practice.

I'd also like to thank my friends (you know who you are) for listening to me when I was stressed, for recognizing talent I was unwilling to acknowledge and for encouraging me to do what I love. And for promising me shoulder rubs ;).

Lastly, I'd like to thank you guys, the folks who read this blog on a regular basis and who have deposited little nuggets of support in the comments section. You have no idea what that has meant to me.

I believe a toast is in order. Raise you glasses everyone! Here's to silencing the inner critic and the unlimited possibilities that brings. Cheers!

Planes, trains and automobiles

As this post suggests, I have made a safe return from my recent trip to the Windy City. My luggage, apparently, enjoyed itself so much that it hung around Chicago a little longer and took a later flight. I am anxiously awaiting our reunion. To pass the time, I am offering some observations from my travels.

• I don't know why I continually request a window seat when flying as sitting by the window stresses me out. I'm not really afraid of flying -- I'm fine once I get in the air -- but I am afraid of takeoffs. This fear is intensified when I am staring out the window watching the ground beneath me disappear. I finally had to turn away and focus on my magazine. For some reason, reading about Tori Spelling's much publicized rift with her mother was strangely soothing.
• When I was a kid, it was well known that airlines placed strict weight requirements on stewardesses. It appears those rules have been thrown out the window. The flight attendants on both my flight to and from Chicago were full-figured. Way to go airline industry! Now could you please give me my free honey roasted peanuts back?
• The one thing that I wanted to do while in Chicago was go to the top of the Sears Tower. The original plan was to go on Tuesday but it was pouring down rain so my friend and I decided against it. Boy am I glad! As it turned out, a train on the line we would have taken to downtown Chicago ended up derailing. As much as I like adventure, crawling out of a pitch black, smoke-filled, rat-infested tunnel would not have been my idea of fun.
• My friend, a Chicago native, graciously accompanied me on the cab ride to O'Hare this morning. As he talked, it struck me that cab drivers must be privy to a lot of interesting conversations as people have the tendency to talk as if no one else is in the car. I imagine they have more than a few stories to tell.

As I was typing this, I received a phone call that my luggage is taking a cab ride of its own back to my home. As displeased as I am that it went on such an unsupervised excursion, I am just thankful that my luggage will be back home where it belongs.

Vacation

I'm going on a brief vacation, folks. No worries though, I should be back to meaningless blogging by the end of the week!

Silencing the inner critic

"The thinking my father tried to discourage in me is the thinking that stops all of us at one time or another. It is the small critical voice inside that says we don't have what it takes, we don't measure up. It's the voice that keeps us from trying new things. It's the voice that -- if we listen -- keeps us from living our dreams."

from The Playful Way to Serious Writing by Roberta Allen

Based on the suggestion of a well-known blogger turned author, I recently purchased the book quoted above. It is full of interesting creative writing exercises. I have often dismissed myself as not being creative enough to write about anything other than my life but I thought I would give this book a try.

The first lesson involved a picture of paint splotches connected together with lines. The instructions were to write down the first 6 words that come to mind then write a story about the third word. The time limit, a tool designed to force you to write without criticizing, was 10 minutes.

I felt a twinge of anxiety as I started this exercise, fearful that my failure would prove once and for all what I had allowed myself to believe all these years -- that I lacked creativity. I forged ahead anyway. I set the timer and stared momentarily at the blank tablet. I wrote down a sentence. And almost immediately, I wrote down another sentence. Ten minutes later, I had 2 pages of sentences.

I sat back and marveled at my creation like a 3 year-old taking pride in a messy painting. Granted, my first attempt at fiction won't garner any literary awards but the exercise had a huge affect on me. Writing creatively no longer seemed out of the realm of possibility. I could do this. I was ecstatic that my critical inner voice had not only been silenced but discredited as well.

Gremlins in the attic

At 12:40 a.m., I was awakened by a noise.

BOOM!

It sounded like a car ramming into the side of my house.

THUD!

No, I think it's actually coming from the attic.

Thump...Thump...Thump, Thump, Thump!

It's definitely coming from the attic.

This is not the first time I've heard noises up there. For months, there have been a plethora of sounds emanating from above that, with enough denial, could easily be confused with the settling noises of a house -- a knock here, a bump there, the occasional scratchy sounds of nails dragging across plywood. Whereas those noises may have been ambiguous in their origin, these screamed an undeniable truth -- something living and breathing has taken up residence in my attic.

Who knows what kind of creature has decided to share my abode. A squirrel, a raccoon, the Loch Ness monster? Whatever it is will remain a mystery because attics, like basements, are scary places for me. Based on the number of horror films involving attics, I think it's clear that nothing good ever happens there.

When I purchased my house 11 months ago, the inspector, accurately sizing me up as the clueless, mechanically-uninclined woman that I am, tried to lecture me on how to change the filter on the air conditioning unit located in the attic. Did he say change it once a month, once every few months, once a year? I don't remember. I wasn't listening because I had no intention of ever going up there.

My attitude pretty much ensures that the one critter will eventually turn into a family of critters intent on building an entire community in the critter-friendly environment that is my attic. Whatever. I don't care. Just keep the noise down so I can get some sleep.

The not so Good Samaritan

On the way home from the grocery store, I spot a car sitting on the side of the road with its hazard lights on. As I turn down the street that leads to my house, I notice up ahead a guy walking. I assume that he is the owner of the disabled vehicle. I feel a twinge of pity for him, as it is over 90 degrees outside, but I do not stop.

This is my normal reaction whenever I see a broken down car with its owner stranded. I sympathize but I never stop. As a single woman, I am usually by myself. To say it is unwise to pick up strange men walking on the side of the road would be an understatement, regardless of how unfortunate their situation.

This all brought to mind an incident I experienced some time ago. One rainy--okay, it was pouring--afternoon, while driving in a well-to-do suburb, I passed a luxury vehicle parked on the side of the road with its hazard lights blinking. I approach a man walking in the rain wearing khakis, a dress shirt and a tie.

Despite the serial killer uniform, he looks respectable enough and I contemplate stopping to pick him up. As I slow down, I can see a glimmer of hope on his face as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. Before coming to a complete stop, I have a change of heart and decide that he looks too much like Ted Bundy. I promptly speed off while watching his shoulders slump with disappointment in my rear view mirror.

I laughed out loud at my unintentional cruelty. It really was brutal to give the impression that I was going to stop only to drive off in my warm, dry and operable vehicle. With good Samaritans like me, who needs enemies?