No speaka Spanish - No wanta speaka to you @ all anyway

Telemarketers, I have a few questions for you

? ? ? ?

1) How on earth did I get on your Spanish speakers' distribution list? Yeh, I did Spanish in High school and 2 semesters in college, but I am not fluent. Why I am now getting automated pitches en espanol from y'all?

2) How many times can you give a "last" or "final" offer on opportunities? In a week, you leave me automated messages saying that this is the last chance I have to opt-in to your offer. Dude, there can only be one last. See Dictionary.com for details

3) Why the cell? Fine, you leave messages on my landline. Annoying, but I can live with it. But, my Blackberry? And once you dared to contact me on my iPhone. That's violation. Stop it.

Gotta pay wifey back!

A few days ago, I was riding in a cab late at night. We are approaching my apt complex and I notice that there is an "OUT OF ORDER" sign on the cabbie's credit card machine - well, it's really a piece of paper with the words written in blue, rubber banded on to the machine.

Keri: "We need to go to an ATM because I have no cash"

Cabbie: "It's OK, we'll figure something out"

Keri: "You don't have to drop me off in front of my building, just circle and go to the ATM so that I can pay you. I have no cash"

Cabbie: *Waves his hands in the air* "Don't worry about it, we'll figure it out"

I give him a confused look as he pulls up in front of my building. Cabbie then turns around and reaches his arm back into my section of the vehicle. Huh?!

He grabs on to the credit card machine and removes the "OUT OF ORDER" sign. I look at him. I start to laugh. He looks at me with a sheepish grin and we both start laughing.

Cabbie: "My wife loaned me the money to buy taxi and EVERY NIGHT I go home, she ask for CASH. Money, money, money. She wants me to pay off the loan. People only want to use card, but I need cash. We have expenses too. I need to buy food, gas. I need cash. And I need to pay wife."

We start laughing again. I swipe my card, and make sure to give him a good tip - wifey needs to be paid!

Necessity is the mother of invention!

NightmAIRs - Another Airline Fiasco

How much frustration can you bear before you totally lose it? Thankfully, I am yet to find out.

After an exhausting few days, I was looking forward to getting back home. I arrive at the airport and am told that I have been re-booked on a later flight, with a connection on a different airline. I think "no problem", I have a lot of things I can do as I wait for the plane. I check my bags, go through security and use my laptop until it is time to board. When I land I walk over to the service agent and ask where I need to go for the connecting flight. It wasn't within walking distance. I have to take a bus. Fine. I still had 1 hr and 20 mins. before my flight was scheduled to depart. To be on the safe side, I ask the agent to re-confirm my reservation, especially since it was on a different airline. After I get the OK, I head for the shuttle.

Twenty minutes later, I find the stop and board the shuttle. At the connecting airline location, I walk to the kiosk and swipe my credit card. The only reservation that shows up is for "Ken Smith". Didn't I ask the agent to ensure I was on the flight?

Sigh. I join the line to speak to the counter clerk. An airline rep approaches me and asks me why I am in the line. I tell her I can't find my reservation. She smiles at me and tells me that sometimes the machines don't work so I should try again. I leave the line and she accompanies me back to the kiosk. I swipe the card. No reservation. Duh. She smiles and laughs sheepishly. I try to smile, but can't. I walk back and re-join the line.

At the counter I explain my story to the clerk. She checks the system. She sees my name. Eureka! Wait, I hear her telling me that she sees a reservation but no ticket. She can't let me board the plane without a ticket. Fair enough. However, since I paid, I would like to board the plane. Pretty please. She tells me that the other airline made an error in the ticketing process and I don't have a ticket. She calls the other airline. No answer. She calls again. No answer. After the third try she gives up. She tells me she can't help me. "Go to the ticketing line please."

Sigh. I walk to the ticketing line. There is no one at the counter. I turn around. Yes, the sign says "Ticketing." I ask a nearby rep if I am in the right place, she says yes. She tells me to wait for the appropriate rep who is now on break and will be back in 10 mins. OMG.

I wait. After 8 mins., Mr. Break returns and keeps his head down as he focuses on his computer screen. Hello?! I am the only person in his line, and did I mention that I have less than half-an-hour to catch a flight that I-don't-have-a-ticket-for? He still doesn't look up. I decide to make him. I walk closer to the counter and say hello. He tells me to wait because he needs to first log in to his computer.

I wait. He asks how he can help me. I tell him the story. I am becoming sick of this story. He tells me the same thing as the counter clerk, ticketing mistake, no ticket, blah, blah, blah. He calls the other airline. They put him on hold. They return and acknowledge the mistake. He tells me I need to go back to their counter for them to resolve it. Yes - the counter in that distant land - a bus ride way. I ask about my bags, he doesn't know where they are, but the other airline should be able to help. He says sorry. At this point I wonder if it is the right time to dissolve into a noisy, messy, completely gratifying and totally useless hissy fit. I consider trying out for the first time my Incredible Hulk routine. I am ultra frustrated. Then, I remember that God said that He doesn't give me more than I can bear. I hold on to to that passage...squeeze tight...pulverize it...and then embrace it. I tell the agent thanks and leave.

When I get back to the original airline I am greeted by a line. I wait. Is there any other option? Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a woman trying to cut the line. I give her a hard stare. She misses it as she never looks in my direction. Doesn't matter - I know that there is no way Ms. Line Cutter is getting ahead of me. And she doesn't.

Finally I get to speak to the agent. I repeat the story. I might gag on this story. She starts to tell me that it was because I was late that I missed the flight. I think about what it would be like to leap over the counter. I calmly tell Ms. Jump to the Wrong Conclusions that it was her airline error that caused the issue. She gets it and tries to help. Somehow during the process I get passed over to a young and personable guy. I tell him the story. Sigh. It's OK though because he seems more on top of things. Mr. Young and Personable tells me there are no more flights for the day. I had already assumed that, and knew that later I would have to manage the impact on scheduled activities, but for now I just wanted a new flight booking and a place to stay for the night.

Mr. Young and Personable re-books me and gives me a hotel voucher. I ask for a meal voucher. No, they don't have those anymore. I look at him incredulously and say nothing. He prints out the relevant documentation for the flight. I ask him to guarantee that there will be no more errors. He walks me through the documentation. I ask him again to ensure I won't have any problems tomorrow. I think he feels my pain as he goes to the back room and returns with his supervisor. She tells him to give me a 2-night stay at the hotel vs. 1 so that I would not be homeless during the day while I waited for the next flight. True customer service rears its head and I was surprised and touched. I thank them. They apologize for the mess - it took them 1 hour to say sorry - but it is exactly what I need to hear. After the supervisor leaves, I look at Mr. Young and Personable and decide to tell him something. Although I didn't go all Big Green Hulk on him, I know and have seen other customers do that. I tell him that he has the right attitude and calm personality that will work very well with frustrated customers. He beams, smiles and then laughs with me.

I leave in search of the hotel shuttle. I wait. I hear screaming. I look down - it's my feet. Trudging to and fro in high heels is brutal. I wait. A driver pulls up and asks me what I am waiting for. This is his third time around the circle and has seen me standing there for a while. I tell him what hotel shuttle I want. He proceeds to describe how the shuttle would look- the color and exactly where on the shuttle the sign with the name of the hotel would be located. How nice of him. Wait. Do I seem mentally challenged? After giving his description, he smiles and leaves. As soon as he drives off, the hotel shuttle I need arrives. How ironic or funny. Maybe later I will figure out which one and give the appropriate response.

The shuttle doors open, and I limp inside. I collapse on the seat and lean my head on the railing. I can't wait to get to the hotel room and finally eat dinner. Oops - no meal voucher. I guess I will snack on my crushed banana.

I am tired, hungry and feeling beige, but I know I am blessed. I have a place to stay, a flight confirmation, my Bible, my laptop, one outfit (I am wearing it), and a dented banana. There are others worse off. I think.

I pray that I never repeat this day.

Fly Much?

You know you are a very frequent flier when on Sunday you get to church extra early and have your pick of seats, and the usher asks you where you want to go, and you say "I'd like an aisle seat, please".

When the Brat Attack is Justified...

*Almost every week for several months, you travel with the same carry-on luggage. You stow it with no problems in the overhead compartment of the plane. This week...this week!...they decide to tell you that the bag is too big to go on the plane and that they have started charging people for bags. You politely explain that you have been travelling with their airline for what seems like forever with no issues. They still ask you to put your bag into the silver grilled case to test if it can actually fit on the plane.

DOES ANYONE'S roller bag EVER PERFECTLY fit into those things?



You are obedient and proceed to put your bag - yes, the same one you carry every week - into that silver thing. It fits half-way. They start to tell you that you need to check your bag. That if you force your bag into the overhead compartment on the plane the same way you are forcing it into that silver thing, you will scratch the plane. You look at them - long and hard. You mumble something about never scratching their plane.

You check your bag and the inner brat THREATENS to come out. But you are silent and play it cool. You are just so annoyed with these jokers and their policy and wonder to yourself what on earth is the value of the elite status you hold on their airline, if you can't even carry a simple roller bag onto their plane.


------


*You browse the store and select 2 magazines. You hear a noise from the cashier that sounds something like $11.95. You look up at the register. You heard right. $11.95 for 2 magazines. You return one of them. That day has come. You can no longer casually buy magazines. Rationing is in effect.

Did Mr. Taxi Read My Mind and Punish Me For It?

Man, I really didn't want to sit in a sauna, especially not in a business suit. I guess the taxi driver doesn't get that it is summer, and that a little AC could help the situation tremendously. Well, I for sure won't be asking him for anything. He has been scowling all night and is built like the Incredible Hulk.



A few minutes post-this thought, magic happens and the AC is turned on. Yay! Or so I thought. I then felt like a penguin lounging near the Arctic circle. Who me? No way, I am not asking him to make it warmer - Incredible Hulk with a scowl, remember? I really hope that he doesn't hear my teeth chattering or see that my window is still sort of open, even though he has the AC blasting. Oops.

You know what? I am pretty sure that Mr. Taxi read my mind and decided to freeze me out. Sorry, sir. I will try not to be so mentally sarcastic next time. Just please, give us passengers a little coolness in the summer heat. Thanks so much!

And I am Back...and Going for the Duo

I committed.

It's been a year overdue.

But, Keri Smith has signed up for her first duathlon event - scheduled for Oct. 2008. 3.1 Mile run followed by a 14 Mile Bike ride and ending with a 3.1 Mile run.

I have a date. I have a location. I am registered. I am meeting with a coach next week.

It's on.

I am SO OUT OF MY MIND WITH EXCITEMENT!!

Let's do this thing!

Falling in Love with God...Again

I became a Christian when I was 12 years old. It was one of the happiest days of my life. I glowed. I was confident. I was in a state of pure bliss - feeling totally in sync with my life's purpose. My best friend, biggest supporter, and savior was the Creator of all things.

I was in love with Him. Could it get any better?

As the years passed, my relationship with Him took many turns. There was the radio silence on my end during a portion of the college years, quickly followed by the realization that life without Him was meaningless, scary and dark. There was my "going-through-the-motions-style-of-worship-because-I-theoretically-knew-what-I-was-supposed-to-do-but-didn't-emotionally connect-with-it" phase. There was the exploration of alternative paradigms focused on self and which overtly and/or subtly touted the absence of any absolute truths. There was also always the recognition during my painful valley experiences, that He was my only anchor, my only source of hope.

And now it has clicked. Forget theory. Yes, I intellectually embrace who He is and what He has done. His omniscience awes and humbles me. But, I am finally understanding the extent of His love for me...how from the beginning of time, He has craved an intimate relationship...has wanted to bless me with the extraordinary. He has been so patient, longsuffering and compassionate. He knew me from the womb, knows everything about me and still thinks I am fantastic, fearfully and wonderfully made. I am not sure if I will ever be able to fully comprehend such goodness.

But, oh how wonderful it is to be 12 years old again! I am passionate. I am emotionally connected. I am head over heels in love with Him. He has no better.

The Night I Was a Drug Addict

We met at Cafe' Pick Me Up at 145 Avenue A in Manhattan. He spotted me by the color of my scarf. We walked to a table in a quieter section of the restaurant. We had been best friends for 20 years. Tonight I was Maddie and Johnny and I were both drug users. That was the script and we played along.

Me, a heroin addict? Only in NYC...and only for one night.

A few weeks ago, my friends and I went to see the play "Street Limbo Blues*". See is a definite misnomer. We participated, we acted, we laughed our heads off. I was Madison (Maddie) Jones and was given a 2 paragraph script informing me that the actor I would be paired with for the night, was my best friend, and that he - Johnny - and I occasionally used heroin together. Johnny came by a few minutes later to pick me up and then just like that, Keri left and Maddie took over.

I felt so sorry for Johnny. He was sitting in front of me, looking really troubled. He was wringing his hands, fidgeting, rubbing his head. Poor Johnny. He was stressed. He had not scored a hit in a while and was so tense. He said he just needed a little something to settle him down, to even him out. He asked me if I needed anything. I decided to go against the script and told Johnny that I had quit and that while it was tough, and withdrawal was a killer, I was making it through. Johnny gave me the obligatory "good for you" nod and smile and then asked me to accompany him to get some drugs from his dealer. Maddie said yes, and we exited the restaurant.

Johnny asked if we could stop for a bit, so he could smoke a cigarette. While we were standing outside chatting, Keri wondered what would happen if anyone she knew spotted her chilling in the streets of NYC with this random, stressed out guy. Maddie didn't care, she kept acting. Johnny was thanking me for introducing him to a photographer friend of mine, who had enabled Johnny to conduct his first photo exhibit. The exhibit was set to occur the next day. Johnny had given his pictures for the exhibit to a friend and needed to pick them up before the exhibit in the morning.


A few moments later, my friend (in real life - Sejal -who went to the play with me) was walking down the street with the actor she was paired with. They decided to stop and chat with us, all of us in character, and I went on to have one of the funniest 20 mins. of my life. Sejal's actor was a total loser. He was twitching, very high on something, and had somehow lost Johnny's photographs - the ones he needed for the exhibit - on the N-train. We gave the loser friend major grief about his mistake. I loved playing the role of Johnny's pissed off friend. I started to demand money to make up for the lost pictures. The loser friend dug deep into his pockets and came up with $5. The more we made fun of him, the more he twitched and said nonsense. Sejal and I were part seriously acting, part cracking up on the sidewalk. Johnny and total loser friend eventually had to laugh with us.

Our overlapping scenes quickly ended when Johnny remembered how badly he needed to get high and so we said our goodbyes and walked a few feet away to a dive bar, where Johnny was scheduled to meet up with his dealer.

We walked into the bar (can't remember the name) and the stench was overwhelming. Stale air - stinking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Johnny and I sat down at a booth near the door where the drug dealer had set up office. Mr. Dealer was a tall, fully tattooed, muscular guy in a white wife-beater. He was accompanied by his pretty girlfriend, who was chewing on a slice of pizza. I wasn't sure if the girlfriend was a real one, or an actress, but she didn't do much except nod, chew and swallow her pizza. Johnny immediately started to beg for drugs. He had no cash and tried to convince Mr. Dealer to loan him a hit until pay day. The dealer was having none of that and Johnny got desperate. So desperate that he looked over and asked me to vouch for him and to tell the dealer that he was indeed good for it and would pay for the drugs once he got his paycheck. Keri did a double take - what was going on here? Me, supporting someone trying to get a hit?! Maddie just nodded at Johnny and told the dealer that Johnny would get paid in 2 weeks. Mr. Dealer didn't care, and Johnny started to panic. He had to get his hit. Johnny ended up offering his favourite camera, which Mr. Dealer took as collateral. Once Mr. Dealer was assured of payment, he slid a clear packet of tablets across the grimy table into Johnny's hands.

Now armed with his drugs, Johnny couldn't wait to get out of the bar. We quickly left and crossed the street, so that we were again near the Cafe' Pick Me Up. While outside, we met up with another one of Johnny's psycho friends (an actress in the play) and they both went on and on cursing at each other about who was the more terrible friend. It was tedious listening to both of them bicker. Apparently psycho friend had begged Johnny for some drugs one night, and he gave her access to his stash. Then, while he was asleep, psycho friend completely depleted Johnny's entire supply of drugs and he had never forgiven her for that. Johnny himself grew tired of the yapping, especially since he really needed a fix, and so he and I walked further up the street, away from psycho friend, and Johnny started to ingest his pills.

What happened next? Of course Johnny boy overdoses and I am left staring blankly at him as he convulses on the street. Psycho friend sees us, runs up and starts screaming. She yells at me to call loser friend (actor from earlier scene who lost the photos on the N-train) and shoves her cell phone in my face. I am a bit shocked and begin to wonder whether now would be a good time to LOL at the ridiculousness of it all, whether this could actually be a true overdose, and I also think about what I would say to explain this noisy, messy, absurd scene to any unsuspecting passer-by.

Maddie takes control and I grab the phone from psycho. She's already dialled loser friend and so I talk to him, as I stare him straight in the eyes - he just so happens to be across the street, walking towards us. Maddie puts on a grand performance: I hear myself yelling to loser friend, that Johnny is overdosing and we need help - hurry!! Meanwhile, poor Johnny is sprawled out on the streets, shaking, vomiting (well, making the necessary noises) and doing all the things you would expect of someone who has just overdosed. Loser friend is now beside us looking scared, and psycho friend is kneeling on the pavement, frantically searching through her bag. She finally finds what she wants, looks up and then hands me a piece of paper - it is the program for the play - and just like that, our performance is over.

Strange, captivating, unique, and truly enjoyable. Only in NY. In character, thankfully, only for one night.




*Street Limbo Blues is interactive and environmental theater where each audience member is paired with one actor. There is no stage. The show is one-hour in the life of a drug addict as he/she attempts to score. You and your actor take a journey through Tompkins Square Park and neighbouring bars where you experience the world of the addicted. The show is produced by Honolulu-based production company, Cruel theatre, and is directed by Taurie Kinoshita.

Embracing my inner goddess

Saturday was beautiful and I felt like a goddess.

I started the morning by renewing my mind with passages from the Bible. Mostly from the Book of Romans. Once my head was in check, I decided it was time to renew the body...and so I went for a 48 min. bike ride in the cool of the morning on the West side. It was then time for kayaking on the Hudson River...but first I had to run for ~20 minutes to get to the boathouse. I did a few laps around the approved area on the Hudson and then just leaned way back in my kayak, and enjoyed the scenery, and sunny weather, as I peacefully floated about in my little boat. Amazing!

After kayaking, I walked back to my apartment - feeling oh-so-fit and on top of the world. (I am slowly but surely finding my way back to my extreme sports passion and my inner tomgirl. Loving it!!)

I closed out the day by spending several hours visiting with a sister from church. It was great to hang out in her neck of the woods and learn more about:

*what it was like to live in the South during the '50's and '60s

*how far NY has come over the decades and

*what it takes to sustain 55 years of wedded comfort

What a beautiful day! I am so blessed.

"It's Tastefully Done" - Dina Lohan on Lindsay's Marilyn Monroe Nude Photos

Lindsay Lohan was asked by famed photographer Bert Stern to re-create Stern's well-known 'Last Sitting' photos of Marilyn Monroe. Lindsay is in various stages of undress for these pictures, i.e. she poses nude.

Her father, Michael Lohan, said he would not want to see the pictures, because Lindsay is his daughter. He also added that "Lindsay is an adult, and she knows the direction she wants to take her career. It is her decision." Michael also felt that it was an "amazing thing" for Lindsay to be asked by Bert to do the photos.

Lindsay's mom, Dina Lohan, had the following to say: "It was very tastefully done. I respect the photographer as an artist, so I look at them artistically. For him to call Lindsay 46 years later and to say can you recreate these photos is an honour." Dina further stated that, she "looked at it as art, and as Lindsay doing a character. So I don't look at them like it's Playboy - she was being a character.If you look at it that way, you can look at it as a mother."

Fine, fine and fine. But, I am really tired of people using the "tastefully done" explanation for explicit nude shots. You don't read Playboy for the articles. You are not OK with these shots because they were tastefully done. There is a huge amount of publicity associated with such photos and of course you made bank. Come on, just give us some straight talk, instead of belittling our intelligence. Simply stated, you are OK with your daughter posing nude because the publicity and money made it worthwhile. Sugar coating is not necessary.

Spice Girls in Concert, Madison Square Gardens

The Return of The Spice Girls, Madison Square Gardens, NYC

Feb. 18, 2008

We entered the room and the first row was filled with pre-teens. We were more than a decade older than this crowd, but we didn't care. We were here to see the iconic Spice Girls. So what if the majority of the adults there were parents of the tween set? Pride wasn't going to get between us and our girls.

The lights went out indicating that the show was about to start. The high-pitched screams - which were to be our constant companions throughout the show - started and increased to a deafening pitch once the Spice Girls appeared on stage.

Posh was in a shiny, skin tight, rubber outfit. Scary was in her typical leopard print. Ginger had on a cute, very short dress. Baby, was demurely attired in a girly dress which graced her mid-thigh. Sporty, I believe wore a pants suit. Everyone, except Sporty, had cleavage exposed. Everyone looked extremely hot - beautiful, toned and ready for action.

The outfits were one of the highlights of the show. Where can I buy a pair of Scary's red hot boots? Ginger's fitted dress, the color of the British flag, was stunning. Not to mention Posh's black lingerie-looking 'I am not sure what', with an extended train at the back.

Although a majority of the fans were part of the teen or pre-teen set, you really couldn't tell by some of the elements included in the show. For example:

• Scary's skin-tight leopard print outfit, which she accompanied with a mic-whip, i.e. a microphone with a whip-like extension, which Scary proceeded to swing like only a whip should be swung


• Scary gyrating and then straddling a ladder


• Screen shots of Posh in a bra and S&M looking black outfit


• Each girl holding the end of a dog collar, which was tied around a man's neck; said man happened to be crawling on all fours in front of each one of the Spices

Hopefully, the tweens won't understand?

Aside from (or because of??) those non-PG 13 episodes, the show was a lot of fun. Girl power was alive and breathing all over you. You became nostalgic of happy, simple times...innocence with shiny red boots.

Word on the street is that the girls are canceling their tour. The rumor says that their egos are too big for one show to contain. It's a pity, because the show was fantastic. Forget about the fact that only Sporty Spice can sing and that none of them can really dance. Those ladies put on a marvelous spectacle, full of glitter, sexy outfits and charismatic performances. Posh Spice even deigned to smile at the audience.

Posh appeared to be the most popular Spice - maybe one of the reasons for the tour cancellation? Each time the lights focused on Posh, the audience's screams rose to a volume higher than for any of the other girls. I am not surprised. Posh has made a name for herself as 1/2 of the great 'Posh & Becks' celebrity couple - most famous couple in Britain, and who are working very hard for similar fame here in the U.S. Posh can't sing to save her life, but that is quite inconsequential. She has created a phenomenon and you are entertained by just watching her strut and pose.

Cute moment of the night went to the portion of the show where all the ladies - sans Sporty - brought their children on to the stage and jointly performed "Mama". Posh had Brooklyn, Romeo and Cruz. Baby had Beau. Ginger held Bluebell Madonna and Scary was with Eddie Murphy's, Angel Iris. Sporty shared kids with the Spice mothers during the song. Cruz - Posh's youngest - showed signs of being just like mom, i.e. craving the spotlight. Little Cruz wowed the audience with slick break dancing moves, a few hand stands and flips...all of this and he's only 3 years old. He had to be pulled off of the stage by his mummy.

Girls, please reconsider and continue with the tour. Each one of you rocked the house. You all look great. Your fans appreciate you and are in need of you. Get over yourselves and perform. You know you want to.

http://www.thespicegirls.com/

Can you be too enthusiastic?

I recently caught a portion of the Rachel Ray talk show/cooking show. Boy! She is a bundle of enthusiasm. It's high pitched. It's "great"s and "awesome"s. It's a wide, bright-eyed grin. But is it too much?

Sometimes I had to put the TV on mute, because it started to grate on my nerves. I love happy. I love enthusiasm. But, I think you can cross the line into becoming unreal...a tad fake and Rachel, I think you cross that line. The show was quite enjoyable, when Rachel calmed down, spoke in her inside voice and was her, nice, pleasant persona. I could actually take the show off of mute during those times.

http://www.rachaelrayshow.com/

Email - What is That?

I met someone recently on the subway - he was a gentleman in his 30s. We started to speak about email and the Internet. He looked confused when I said email. He actually said 'what is that?'. Somehow, I didn't fall off of my subway seat, but kept talking. I couldn't believe that a person in this day and age, someone of that age group even, living in the U.S of A, would not have used email, much less heard about it.

I frankly got a little scared for the fellow. I thought about the dinosaurs that became extinct and felt that the world would leave this poor man behind. I gently encouraged him to take a course so that he could get acquainted with the WWW. He smiled and agreed that he didn't want to be left in the Stone Age. Phew! He got the message.

Why intentionally make yourself extinct? Plus, who can remember life without email, blackberries, Google, the Internet, blogs, etc. And even if you could, why go back?

Job's The Man

That's all you got? Gimme more.

- Sitting in my seat on the plane, minding my own business, planning to drink my ice cold water. Mr. Ex-Footballer returns to his seat, not gracefully, and upends the entire contents of my water on to my lap

- Checking into hotel after long day, waiting 15 mins for manager to return as he is the only one who knows which rooms are clean. Finally get assigned a room. Enter room, walk a few steps, see opened suitcases and a used bathroom. Wait half-an-hour until I am re-assigned to a new room, that is not only clean, but where I am the only occupant

- Logging onto computer and greeted by blue screen of death. Several reboots later, blue screen of death still grins at me. Well, there's always the Blackberry, except of course for the North American outage and the Sim Card Errors that choose to coincide with the blue screen dilemma

- Ordering a veggie burrito at the airport and requesting that it be cut in half. No. They can't cut it in half, because the law in that state says it is illegal for them to cut people's sandwiches. However, I was given a plastic knife and plate so that I could cut the burrito in half myself. Who cuts a fat veggie burrito with a plastic knife? (Note: I am still stunned about the law...need to research that one)

Through it all I think of Job in the Old Testament. I am alive. I am healthy. There is no death. I have food to eat and family and friends and faith. I am not Job. These situations are nothing compared to what he went through and survived and was blessed.

Bring it on. Gimme more.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Job_(Biblical_figure)

To One of My Favourites - Sister Maureen Clare

Sister Maureen Clare is one of the greats.

She was principal of Immaculate Conception High School, in Kingston, Jamaica during a portion of my sojourn there. Sr. Maureen Clare was the epitome of discipline, integrity and self-respect. When you saw her you

• trembled (and then immediately stopped misbehaving),
• stared in awe or just
• listened intently to her words of wisdom.

She mastered the element of surprise - you never knew when she would enter your classroom or catch you being naughty. She is/was a formidable force. Sr. Maureen Clare was also extremely witty and surprised you with her sense of humour. Who expected that this strict nun could laugh? Her smile really made my days. She left you feeling unique and cared for. I adore her.

Thank you so much Sister Maureen Clare for the great example you set and for all of your hard work in transforming us - innocent, rambunctious, and eager girls - into powerful, and successful women, always ready to take on and master the world.

Continue to touch and transform lives. You are well loved and respected.

Congrats, Immaculate!!

Special congratulations to my former alma mater - Immaculate Conception High School - in Kingston, Jamaica, for reaching 150 Years!

Immaculate is one of the top schools in Jamaica. It is a prestigious all-girls Catholic high school - and played an integral role in my development process.

Thanks, I.C.H.S. Cheers to many, many more!!!

Rolling Away

If a rollerblader outpaces a cyclist, should the cyclist feel bad?

Things I Wish I Could Say, But I Won't

• Do you follow any of your own rules, or just expect me to?

• I get it, you're awesome, now can we get back to being productive?

• I absolutely refuse to, until you say please

• Do you know how to be nice?

• My face is up here

• Get over yourself

• Hurry up and mature

• What do I need to say or do to peacefully end this ridiculous discussion?

• Do you annoy yourself? Or just everyone else?

• Get some integrity

• Barking is for dogs

I Left My Toe at the Salon

I have heard horror stories about women getting infected, bruised, etc. at the nail salon, but thankfully, I had never experienced such nightmares.

Until today.

Due to time constraints, I decided to go for a "no frills" pedicure at a reputable boutique salon. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get my regular attendant and ouch! did I feel the difference.

My first clue of danger should have been when I had to alert the attendant that the tub of sudsy water that I was going to soak my feet in was about to bubble over on to the floor. Isn't keeping the water inside the container a core module in Pedicuring 101?

I soon found out that my attendant really hated cuticles. She hated them so much that she plucked my big toe clean until it bled. She then proceeded to pull and pull on the flesh of my other digits with her instruments so that I was unable to take my usual nap, and was in semi-pain throughout the procedure.

Ah well, I suppose one bleeding big toe and a few roughed up other toes is not that bad in the grand scheme of things. I can still walk, the blood is not dripping on to the floor and my pedicured toes look great.

I am scheduled to get my eyebrows done next...should I dare?!!