Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Restroom Encounters

Question: Why are department store bathrooms always located in a seemingly abandoned part of the building?


It seems like every bathroom is at the end of some scary deserted hallway, filled with half-empty cardboard boxes and clothing racks with nothing but empty hangers on them. The stores could be filled with people, but there's never anyone in the hallway leading to the bathroom. Even though I'm an adult, I feel like I could get kidnapped every time I embark on this frightening, but clearly necessary, adventure.

It's creepy. And I don't understand it.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Injustice Encounters

I'm not a feminist. I'm not a sexist. I'm not (too) crazy.


Having a wedding/getting married opened my eyes to a world of gender-based discrimination and injustice. Ok, maybe those words are harsh, but hear me out. Take a look at an abbreviated version of our boy and girl to-do lists (all because of the wedding):

- Get fitted for tux.
- Recruit other boys to get fitted for tuxes
- Help parents plan rehearsal dinner
- Show up
- Assure girl that the wedding will happen not matter who decides to be late
- Wear fitted tux
- Take pictures
- Marry girl you love
- Go on honeymoon
- Carry gifts into new house
- Change address on driver's license
- Change address with the Post Office
- Go to work
- Come home

No, really. Everything else. Watch:
- Plan the WHOLE wedding and all the details that are too long to list
- Assemble and send invitations
- Pick wedding dress
- Endure three fittings of said dress
- Pick bridesmaids dresses
- Find shoes, earrings and all other accessories
- Get hair and make-up done
- Freak out just a little
- Manage the personalities of everyone in attendance. particularly family
- Wear thrice-fitted dress
- Take pictures
- Marry the man you love
- Go on honeymoon
- Retrieve certified copy of marriage license
- Open and record all gifts
- Wash and find a place for aforementioned gifts in new house
- Return 4 of 5 crock-pots and 6 of 7 coffee percolators.
- Decorate interior of house
- Change name and address on driver's license
- Change name and address on social security card (this involves traveling to some kind of alternate universe where time moves at a glacial pace and nobody smiles.)
- Change name on EVERYTHING ELSE (credit card, health insurance, bank accounts, dr's office, dentist, FACEBOOK, twitter)
- Go to work
- Come home
- Be thankful for everything (including the fact that you in no way involved your last name in your blog title)

Tell me how that's fair. You can't. Because it's not.

The things we do for love. (heavy sigh)

p.s. I love being married. Really. "I do." I mean, "I have" (Orthodox pun intended).

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Coffee Encounters

Panera is usually a happy place. Even if it's super early in the morning, people have coffee, bagels and classical music to start their day out right. And later in the day they serve their crazy good mac and cheese. Who can't be happy when there's crazy good mac and cheese in the room?

Anyways, I go to Panera every Thursday morning to pick up bagels for a weekly meeting at the church. The people in the bakery know my order before I get to the counter. (It makes me feel like I live in a small town - even though Panera is a huge chain and OKC isn't too tiny either.) They assemble my bagel packs and I go on my merry little way.

But this morning tragedy struck Panera. Their coffee machine BROKE.

Did you hear me?


They had signs posted all over, but people still approached the counter asking for coffee. Hoping and praying it couldn't be true. They came for coffee. They need coffee. THERE WAS NO COFFEE.

I don't drink coffee so I was unaffected by this caffeine famine, but man were those other people upset. Their facial expressions ranged from devastation to anger, sorrow to rage, and a few who just stood stunned, unable to process the news they just heard.

The moral of the story?

Drink more tea.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Courthouse Encounters

Suppose you had to go to the county courthouse the other day to apply for a marriage license.

Suppose you had never been there and you had kind of an adventure within those walls.

Suppose your adventure went something like this:

You approach a building that looks all nice and friendly from the outside, but the people going through the doors with you don't look so inclined to be nice or friendly.

You have to go through security and get your bag x-rayed and they say you can't bring any knives in, but you make it through with TWO swiss army keychains in your purse. Two. When your cousin went there they stole her deadly weapons - also known as bobby pins. But not your knives.

Again, the inside of the first floor looks all nice and clean and people smile at you. Then you get in the elevator and go to the 2nd floor, where you think the office for marriage licenses is, and you meet a delightful lady who tells you you have to go to the 9th floor. You say thank you and she wishes you a good day and you saunter out feeling pretty darn good about this place you had obviously misjudged.

But then, THEN you get on the elevator and ride to the 9th floor. And when the doors open, it's clear you have been transported to an alternate universe. You know the office where Tom Hanks works in Joe vs. the Volcano? It's like that. But filled with even creepier people. People who stare at you. Some people in handcuffs. People who make you feel tiny and terrified. And they are all in this big line that fills the whole hall. And you see this tiny sign at the end of the line that says "Marriage Licenses." So you try to sneak through the crowd and work your way toward the door and the light at the end of the tunnel - no really, the marriage license room is bright and the hallway is long, it's actually a light at the end of the tunnel.

Anyway, you make it inside. There's no line in this room. There's a fairly friendly lady behind the counter who takes your information and gives you a worksheet to fill out. She makes a little small talk as you sign a paper and submit your paperwork. Then she looks at you and says "It's time for the oath." You laugh because she has to be kidding, right? Then she stares at you, totally unamused, and tells you to raise you right hand. You do it, because she will kill you if you don't, and you proceed to promise all the information you have provided is true. You also promise that you aren't related to your husband-to-be. So help you GOD.

Then you get to leave. But you can't breathe easily quite yet. Why not? Well, because you have to go back sometime in the next two weeks and pick up the actual license.

Wonder what you will see then.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Busy Encounters

If anyone out there has any extra projects or crises they need help with in the next few weeks, please let me know. I'm totally bored and don't have very many things going on in my world. Just give me a holler!

Ok, so I'm being a little sarcastic. Actually I'm being the most sarcastic that it's humanly possible to be.

That being said, if I know you, and we are going to speak to or see each other soon, please refrain from any and all forms of the following phrases:

-"Erin, do you have time to (insert meaningless task that could wait a million years to be completed)...?"
-"Erin, could you help me with (insert thing that has absolutely no importance and requires a ridiculous amount of time)...?"
-"Do you have plans on (insert any day before November 12)...?"
-"Are you busy (again, any time before Nov. 12)...?"

Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Cow Encownters

Joe and I were driving on a road trip this weekend and we began discussing what animal we would least like to be. Everyone always talks about their favorite animals or which one they would love to be, so naturally we had to do the opposite.

Anyways, I confidently answered that I would hate to be a cow. It would be the worst. I listed the following reasons I thought being a cow would be a miserable existence:

1. You would have to stand in a field all day. Rain, sun, snow - no shelter.
2. You weigh a bagillion pounds and have super skinny legs.
3. You are alive and being fed just so you can be slaughtered and eaten.
4. Flies would get in your eyes all the time and you have no hands or any way to get them off of you.
5. If someone tips you over you could die because you have too many stomachs.
6. No one would ever talk to you or pet you unless they were about to eat you.
7. People would tug on your nipples all the time.
8. You would only run because someone is chasing you with a hot iron and trying to brand your skin with their initials or made-up symbol.
9. People would staple tags to your ears.
10. You would walk through poop all the time.
11. The most famous cows are the Chik-Fil-A cows and they are only famous because they are desperate and don't want to be eaten. Pitiful.

Joe? well he laughed so hard he nearly drove off the road. I thought I made a pretty good argument, but he just found my answer hysterical. I was being serious! I would hate to be a cow.

He said he would least like to be a sloth. How boring. Sloths aren't on the menu at any fast food places AND they get to sleep all the time. Seems like a pretty sweet gig to me.

Help me out people/person. Cow totally wins, right?

(These are the things that consume my thoughts. So much better than weddings or house buying. Seriously.)

Friday, September 16, 2011

Advice Encounters

(warning: this post has serious "rant" potential)

I know people mean well.

I know that they've lived longer than me.

And I know they want to be helpful and prevent me from making the same mistakes they did.

BUT if one more person offers me unsolicited and totally obvious advice on getting married, or buying a house, I will probably cause them or myself bodily harm.

Again, I know people mean well, and I know I don't know everything, and I'm all about learning and preventing trouble, but for the love! This is driving me mad.

Here are some examples of the precious gems of wisdom I have been offered as of late and the thoughts that run through my head as I force a smile:
- "You know, buying a house is one of the biggest decisions in life." Really? It's a big deal? I had no idea. Thank goodness you told me! I probably would have just drawn out of a hat.
- "Buying a house is a huge investment. Make sure you are smart about it." Again, thanks. I would have never known. Also, glad you told me to be smart about it because usually I prefer to be dumb about things.
- "You know, once you buy a house, you're stuck. You can't just move if you don't like your neighbors." Rats. I can't count how many times I've moved as a renter because of pesky neighbors. Guess I'll have to break that habit.
- "It's a buyer's market. Be sure you get a good deal." No thanks. I like bad deals better.
- "I have a house. You will love it. You should probably buy it." If you don't want it, why would I?
- "Your wedding is getting so close!" YOU THINK??? I hadn't noticed.

Ok, so I'm a jerk. I'm just not a big fan of Master's of the Obvious.

I am however, very grateful for our support system and extended family and people who care enough to chime in. Really, I am.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Fraction Encounters

Well, I saw another one. Custom license plates sure are plentiful these days.

This one is a little different than the past few I've posted. It wasn't difficult at all to figure out what they were trying to say. BUT trying to figure out why they said it proved fairly entertaining.

Take a look:

Here's a few of the possibilities I came up with:
1. They have five kids. One made it to college - just barely - and they are holding their breath as the other four navigate the wiles of middle and high school.
2. The car is being driven by a hit man/woman. They are out to exact revenge on a gang of five playground terrors who made middle school a living nightmare. They "took care of" one of them. Only four more to go.
3. They watch The Office and feel real connection with Creed. Since Creed wants three chairs, they decided to up the ante and go for five.
4. They are over-zealous and instead of just wanting to win an EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony) they have come up with a fifth prestigious award. Probably and Okie or something equally awesome and made up. They have secured the fictional award, now there's just four biggies to go.
5. They own a hotel and have earned one star. While this is certainly an accomplishment, they really need to get the other four. I mean, who wants to stay at a one star hotel?

I could go on for days, but I'll spare you.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Watching You Encounters

I consider myself to be fairly observant. I mean, I notice things other people don't. Mostly things that don't matter in the least, but I still notice them. This special talent can come in handy. "It's, uh, all about reading people."

But yesterday I was put to shame by a woman who observes and reports everything. EVERYTHING. I see her often and she always has the latest news. It's actually quite frightening. It has inspired a secret game I play: How long can you keep this information from so-and-so. I'm pretty good at this game. Shocking, I know. How could I be bad at a game I invented in which I am the only player?

Anyway, yesterday I left my house without my rings and my watch. It was just one of those mornings. I was at work for about an hour before I noticed my naked hands and wrist. I was thinking, "Oh well. It happens. Doesn't really matter. I can deal. It won't affect anyone else."


Last night after church, so-and-so walks up to me and says "I see you forgot your watch today. And your ring"

WHAT? How did she notice? Why did she notice? Why did she tell me she noticed? What am I supposed to say? What else did she notice? Is she going to tell people I'm not wearing my ring on purpose? This is why I sleep in my jewelry!

Needless to say, I was beyond uncomfortable and taken back. I smiled and nodded, "Yep, just rushed out of the house this morning and totally forgot them." (Shoulder shrug and walk/run away)

I have a new goal in honing my observation skills: never let your freakish attention to detail scare the bageezes out of someone else. It's not nice.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Old Encounters

In my line of work, I get to feel young frequently. I go on retreats, work at camp, go bowling, play laser tag and eat an ungodly amount of pizza. It's great.

However, there is another side to this equation.

For each youthful moment, there undoubtedly comes a moment when I feel... old. Like when I try and say some cool catch phrase that apparently went out of style decades ago. Or when I ask the kids if they have any Grey Poupon in their cars and they give me blank stares. BLANK STARES. Like I'm the crazy one. (Oh, and don't even get me started on T.V. sitcom references. The days of Uncle Jesse and Zack Morris are not even on their radar.)

Anyways, such is life. I've come to expect it. Good thing, too, because according to most adults it's probably just going to get worse along with everything else about my body or life. (Older people provide such optimism sometimes.)

BUT. Yesterday I had a "wow, I'm really old" moment that I'm still trying to get a mental grip on.

I was driving down my street and I saw the neighbor kids by the curb holding a sign. They had a little table set up and were waving at the cars going by. I thought they had a lemonade stand. It was adorable. I got all excited about it officially being summer time and kids being kids, but before I could even look for spare change I got close enough to read their sign. My idyllic thought bubble immediately burst into a million particles. Do you know what it said?


Seriously. What in the world? I don't even know where to begin with this extremely flawed business plan and what it says about kids these days, so I think I'll just abruptly end this post.


Thursday, April 28, 2011

Spotted Encounters

Sometimes I write stuff at my desk and then put my pen down and forget to put the lid back on. And sometimes I then proceed to type things on my computer and do other "desky" tasks. And then sometimes, my arm looks like this:

Only sometimes, though.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Repetitive Encounters

I promise this isn't a license plate blog. I promise, promise.

But I also let my yes be yes and my no be no. So no, this isn't a license plate blog, but yes, I'm going to write another license plate post.

Check this out:

Here's what I've got:
1. Clearly the Bible Belt is full of license plate sermons. This person wants to go home. "Oh, to be in heaven!" They way they were driving, their wish could be granted sooner than later.
2. This was a newer van, and it could be some new scientific experiment. It might be an O-2, Boron, Nitrogen, Hydrogen V(a)n.
3. The driver is from Connecticut. They want to be back in New Haven. Oklahoma is alright, but oh, to be in New Haven...
4. Probably more likely they are from Kansas, and used to live in Haven, which is right next to Amish country. They moved here and miss the cinnamon rolls. Who wouldn't? Those things are gianormous and gooey and just generally great.
5. The van wants to be a New Hampshire van. They have more fun. Or so it's heard...
6. The driver wrote a song. It's called "Ode to Bee Hivin'." Nothing like fresh honey and epi-pens.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

WOW Encounters

It happened again.

I saw another custom plate that sent my mind aflutter.*

It said:


My possible, yet highly improbable interpretations:

1. The driver is in awe of Oklahoma. They are literally at a loss for multi-syllable words to describe the splendor of this state. "Like, wow, Oklahoma. Just Wow."
2.The driver is extremely distressed by the state of the state. As in "Wow, Oklahoma, are you really ranked as the 6th most obese state? Really? With just under 3.7 million residents in the entire state, this is the kind of recognition you're getting. WOW."
3. The driver is gamer and only mildly impressed by WOW - that would be World of Warcraft. They probably prefer Dungeons and Dragons or Halo or some other game. WOW** is just OK.
4. The driver's name is William Oswald Wentworth and he wants you to be OK with that. If you have a structured settlement, and you need cash now, call his cousin JG. WOW can't help you, so back off. OK?
5. It's an encrypted message to the driver's mother. If you turn WOW upside down it clearly spells MOM. If you turn OK upside down, you realize this tangent is a dead end.
6. The driver is a fan of Christian music but is constantly underwhelmed by the quality of the WOW worship albums. They are just OK. They've put out an album every year since 1996, but they still don't have the hang of it. He's disappointed, but supportive.
7. The driver is just generally sassy. I can hear their voice in my head: "Wow, OK? Just wow. I can't believe you went there. WOW."

What do YOU think it means?

*I really have no intention of turning this into a "check out this license plate I saw" blog, but I can't help it at the moment.
** The more you say "wow," the less it sounds like a real word. Try it. "Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow." Told ya.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

TRI Encounters

Saw a custom license plate this morning while driving on the highway. It read:


Now, if you haven't bothered to notice, I'm a little oenery and tend to play devil's advocate when things are obvious but not obvious enough to be beyond question. It's a bad, but mildly entertaining habit of mine.

So, given my propensity to ponder the irrelevant, I came up with the following list of possible meanings for this not so encoded message:

1. The person driving the car is a hard-core Trinitarian and, like St. Patrick really wants every one to know God is one God in three persons. He's a TRI(une) GOD.
2. The person would like God to put a little more effort into something. As in, "Try, God. Please!" Maybe they are the type who have been praying to win the lottery for decades and are convinced that a little more effort from the big man just might seal the deal on their luxurious retirement.
3. They want you to give God a try. Give Him a go, if you will. If you try God, you might like him. Just a suggestion from your fellow driver. I'm not the betting type, but I would wager that if you asked the driver, they might offer you a satisfaction guarantee.
4. The "i" in TRI could in fact be pronounced as a long "e." That would make this driver a fan of the Tree god, which is probably someone like one of Dionysus' friends or something.*
5. They are a photographer, and a devout believer in God and they want everyone to know that just as a tri-pod steadies a camera, God steadies their life. God is their Tri-Pod.

Yep. Ran with all five possibilities in a matter of 2 minutes.

There's a fine line between genius and insanity. (I have no idea what that has to do with this post. It's just something I've been told.)

*You think this one is the biggest stretch, don't you? Well my senior year of college I took a class on the history of religion and the first day the professor made us say which religion, if any, we associate with. People said the typical answers, Baptists, Catholics, Atheists, Agnostics and ONE Hellenistic Polytheist. Yep, as in Zeus and all his buddies. I've learned not to be surprised anymore.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, strike three.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Talking Encounters

Do you talk to your TV?

I do.

I like to think most people do. They are either yelling, "Don't open that door! He's in there!" or they are screaming at the ref who obviously didn't see what they saw on that last play. Talking to the television is probably one of the more common abnormal behaviors these days. So, it doesn't make me that weird, right?

The thing is, lately I've noticed that I talk quite a bit while I'm driving too. Not to my fellow passengers, or on my phone, or even to the other drivers who are clearly out to ruin my day and test my patience. No, instead I talk to animals I see.

Now I'm weird.

It's fine.

At least I know it.

I can't help myself. If there is a dog hanging out of the window of the car at a stoplight, I can have a full conversation with it. No lie. And heaven help whoever is in my car if there's a stray dog on the side of the road. My inner moral dilemma is immediately vocalized and I start to make up a story about why the dog is on the side of the road and what will probably happen to it if I don't intervene. And if there's a dog that has been hit, well you might as well open the flood gates. It's not pretty.

The same thing happens in movies. People can drop dead left and right, but if something happens to that dog, we are turning it off. Have you seen Gran Torino? People kept getting killed and there's all this tension and the whole time all I could think was, "They had better not hurt his dog." And in war movies like The Patriot, I can see soldiers get slaughtered but if something happens to their horses, I hide my eyes. Sick, right?

I credit this, and many of my other idiosyncrasies, to my mother. Our dog at home is most definitely her favorite child, and since my brother and I have flown the coop, she talks to Rascal about his day all the time. He's there and he has ears. Silky ones, in fact. I have to admit, my mother's love for animals is definitely ingrained in me. I love Rascal, too. How can you not love this face?

It just seems I also love every other animal I've ever seen.

EXCEPT for the neighbor's cat who lurks around my porch. Every time I see him sitting on my patio table, I yell "YOU DON'T LIVE HERE."

Thursday, March 17, 2011

St. Paddy's Encounters

Since my name is Erin, I always feel especially celebratory on this day.

Considering it's not a work holiday, St. Patrick is really good at managing to have an eventful day.

Allow me to list a few things that have happened to me on or around St. Patrick's day the past few years:
- I was called "a legend of a woman" by an actual Irishman in a bar in Chicago. After he told me I was a legend, he asked if he could "lift me." Before I could even ask what that meant, my feet were off the floor and he just held me in the air. Super awkward. Still have no idea why that happened.
- I was in Ireland, and learned that they make fun of Americans for saying St. PaTTy's day instead of St. Paddy's Day.
- Also witnessed the St. Paddy's parade in Galway. There were alot of people dressed like bishops and even more people dressed like snakes. See:

- I spent last year in Chicago with my parents and my best friend. We went to the same pub where the lifting incident took place, but went in the afternoon. It was much more calm and my feet got to stay on the floor. BUT we ran into these loud obnoxious boys who just happened to attend a certain loud and obnoxious university. Should have known the Jayhawks would try to ruin a lovely day. We did not let them succeed.
- My dad carried this around in his man-bag all day while we were in Ireland. He found some clovers and just had to take a pic.

- My mom earned her nickname on St. Patrick's day. She was cold during the parade and went to find a hat to wear from a local shop. She wanted "anything but a Guiness hat." Instead, she bought this:

For those of you who don't know, Murphy's is knock-off Guiness. Basically my mom bought a Natty Light hat. Now we call her "Murph."

St. Patrick's Day has always been a good day for me. Many thanks to those who helped make hilarious memories. And most importantly to the Bishop who helped a nation and taught us the complexity of the Triune God with a simple clover.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Arguing Encounters

Some days feel like this. Some days you are Tom Hanks. Others you are Dan Hedaya. And some days you get to be Meg Ryan.

"I'm not arguing that with you."

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Glowing Encounters

I just got off the phone with my Sitti (that would be my grandmother for those of you who are random creepers... I mean, readers).

She's a funny lady. She had a busy day today, and was, when I called, having coffee with two of her friends. These two girls are her cohorts. The three of them are always doing something. In fact, they've been so close for so long they were supposedly the first ones to see me when I was born.

I've heard the story a million times: It was a snowy Sunday in January. They were in church, my parents and grandparents weren't. They whispered (reverently, I'm sure) up and down each pew and left right after communion (tisk tisk) to make it the hospital to see me. Aunt Viviane always makes sure I know she was first. It went Dr., dad, mom, sitti, jiddi,my mom's sister Aunt Cheryl, Aunt Viviane then Aunt Beverly.

Anyways, they are funny.

I was talking to Sitti and they were hollering in the background about how they had better be invited to my wedding since they were the first people on earth to lay eyes on me and then Aunt Viviane took the phone and the following conversation unfolded:

Aunt Viviane: Erin, what are you wearing?
Me: ummm, what?
Aunt Viviane: What are you wearing?
Me: Like, right now?
Aunt Viviane: Yes. Right now. What are you wearing? Jeans?
Me: ...yes. I'm wearing jeans.
Aunt Viviane: Well you still look like a bride! Even in jeans! You're just glowing!

I almost couldn't contain myself. Not only was she unknowingly asking very awkward questions, but she could see my glow through the phone and the 200 miles that separate us.

Like I said, they sure are funny.

Love it.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Cursive Encounters

I have a serious problem.


Like a "complicate your life multiple times a day" kind of problem.

This. Is. Serious.

You see, in a short while, my last initial will change. I'm going from an L to a G. That's right, moving up in the alphabet. My children will be so grateful.



Not pretty ones, anyways.

It's very difficult.

I'm doing that crazy girly thing where I practice writing my married name and I'm failing miserably. This is not good, people/person. Every credit card transaction will be painful. Each purchase will strike a tone of anxiety and uncertainty. Who hesitates when they sign their own name? Criminals and people in witness protection, that's who.

I'm going to need more spiral notebooks.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Thoughtful Encounters

It's not often that I get a contemplative blog itch. I mean, I guess I'm always contemplating things that happen and then writing about them, but most of the time it's pretty trivial. And that's a good thing. But today I have an itch that leans toward the serious and I intend to scratch it. Even if it's just for a moment.

Seekers of triviality, you have been warned.

Life has felt... heavy lately. Even the good things going on are BIG good things that come with a sense of gravity. There's so much to do. So much not to do. So much that seems like it can't be done. It can be overwhelming.

Forget that. It IS overwhelming. Or at least it was until I was reminded of six simple words spoken by Mother Teresa:

"Do small things with great love."

Life really is a series of millions of small actions and it's the emotion and drive behind those actions that makes them important. When tackled one tiny action and small step at a time, tasks don't seem as daunting. And when you throw love into everything you do and say, well that my friend is when greatness happens. Because that's when life isn't about you anymore. And when life isn't about you, the craziest thing happens: YOU reap the benefits.

It took a weekend in Wagoner, Oklahoma, with 140 teenagers to remind me that life might feel heavy but the light of Christ makes everything...well, light. Getting outside yourself changes everything. Owning your humanity makes everything different. It changes the way you see the world and the way you see other people. Our lives are short, and our to-do lists are long, but they aren't unconquerable. With faith, love and a heaping dose of perspective, maybe we can actually learn what it means to live. What it means to be alive.

The quote I mentioned above is something Mother Teresa said many times. It's part of this amazing quote that pretty much sums up my thoughts at the moment:

"What I do you cannot do; but what you do, I cannot do. The needs are great, and none of us, including me, ever do great things. But we can all do small things with great love, and together we can do something wonderful."

In other words, teamwork makes the dream work. We are here together for a reason. Let's do a bagillion small things with great love.

You in?


Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Commercial Encounters

I miss jingles.

Almost every commercial used to have a snappy tune for you to sing along to as you were bombarded by subliminal messages to buy things you don't need. Those were the good old days.

Nowadays, commercials just scream at you or confuse you with the rapidly-read fine print at the end. I wonder how much that speed reading guy gets paid. He's super fast. (NOT as fast as the Micro-Machines guy. He was the fastest. So fast, in fact, that he landed a role on Saved by the Bell as a teacher who gave impossible tests and lectures. I can still see Jessie Spano's pen making smoke as she rapidly took notes in his class.)

I really do miss good jingles though. I have an auditory memory, so they help me remember things. I can still sing most jingles from back in the day. Not that it does me much good. But it's kind of a cool party trick when you are hanging out with people from your age group. It almost becomes a trivia game.

Someone should make a game like that! A theme song and jingle trivia game. I would definitely buy that game. And even if it turns out like Scene-It and my cousin refuses to play with me, I will still love it.

Hmmm. Let's try to play via this blog. Here's a list of products/jingles that jog my memory. Do you remember them too?

Double-Mint Gum
Creepy Crawlers
My Buddy
Pepsi (there are like 10 for this one, this one was my favorite)
Dr. Pepper
Toys 'R Us (that Steve Urkel on the swing at the end!)

That's only a few. I could play this game all day. This is dangerous...