Tuesday, December 30, 2008

What is Santa doing?

Sure, I can be an angry old pagan at times.

But in my heart I'm just an old-fashioned Christmas girl.

Multi-colored lights. Stockings hung by the chimney with care. Cuddly-wuddly Christ all bundled up in the manger. Presents to pretty girls.

And angels. On top of Christmas trees, dammit.

So, to paraphrase my friend Oz from a few days ago: "What the HELL is Santa doing there at the top of the tree?"


When Jim and I combined households 10+ years ago, the Christmas tree topper was a Major Marital Issue. Right behind Jif vs. Skippy peanut butter and Hellmann's versus Miracle Whip.

It went something like this:

"Santa goes on the top of the tree."

"Can't we try an angel?"

"Santa goes on the top of the tree."

"But he looks like he's drunk."

"Santa goes on the top of the tree."

"Jif! Hellmann's! Angels!"

"Skippy! Miracle Whip! Santa!"
Santa isn't drunk. Really.

It's not a beer stein in his hand. Really.

It's a lantern. And when the tree's plugged in, Santa swings the lantern.

Which makes it look like he's hammered and hollering "CHEERS, motherfuckers! It's Christmas!"

Hedy, it looks like Santa's pole is slightly bent.

Yeah, Mrs. Claus can't get enough of that shit.

Wait. Right.

Yes, it is slightly bent. That is the result of the Year We Almost Turned Jewish. We bought a bad tree with a trunk that was soft and rotten. By the time Christmas came the damn thing was held up by string tied to hooks embedded in the walls and we were rednecks on the verge of converting to Judaism.


It's 4:30 a.m. on Christmas and I hear that all too familiar sound: WOOSH-CRASH! Tinkletinkletinkletinkle.

While Gromit the Brave Yule Dog cowers in the corner, I dash out to the living room to see if Drunk Santa survived the third and final tree crash of the season.

Every single spendy Christopher freakin' Radko ornament from Marshall Field's is smashed to Shards of Christmas Death Glass.

But Drunk Santa? Trapped under a branch. And still swingin'.

I want want wanted to step on his little alcoholic head before Jim came out to survey the scene, but a minor Christmas miracle occurred that morning. My snoring husband wouldn't wake up for a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant, but Drunk Santa is in danger and lo and be-fucking-hold, Jim leaps outta bed to see what's the matter like that nightgown wearin' freak from the Night Before Christmas.

And if he hadn't Grinch-launched it out the front door minutes later, I was gonna keep pushing that rotten tree over until Santa's drunk ass finally cracked.

I guess there's always next year. Cheers.
I am listening to: Chris Rock: Kill the Messenger
I am reading: Not much, looking for a recommendation
And I am: On vacation 'til Friday.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Detroit: We Don’t Do That

“This doesn’t look good,” says Jim.

We’d been westbound on I-94 maybe 20 minutes when suddenly it was nothing but brake lights ahead.

This is not good any time, of course, but especially at 11 a.m. on a Sunday.

Something big was happening.

We slowed down and waited. After a bit, we started inching forward again and I could see that everyone was merging to the right – serious merging – all the way off the road merging.

Something big indeed.

At least two feet of water across all eight lanes – east and west bound. Idiots driving through the deepest parts. All of us bright (scared) folks waiting our turn to ride up the curb/embankment.

“I’m dialing 911,” I say. “It’s obvious this didn’t just happen but there’s no one here directing traffic. The road should be closed.”



“Thank you for calling Detroit 9-1-1. All of our operators are busy right now. Please hold for the next available operator.”

I wait. For what seems like forever but was probably a minute at most. Good thing I wasn’t having a stroke or coronary or something really important.

“Detroit 9-1-1 how can I help you?”

“There’s deep standing water across all of I-94 just north of exit 220.”

“I’ll transfer you to the State police.”



“State police are you reporting an accident?”

“No, there’s deep standing water across all of I-94 just north of exit 220.”

“We don’t do that. We’ll notify MDOT.”

We don’t do that?


There’s a hazardous situation on a major state road and “We don’t do that”?

Gotta love Detroit.
I am listening to: CNN on the office TV
I am reading: Nothing, still basking in the glow of Between the Bridge and the River by Craig Ferguson
And I am: Not surprised, sadly enough

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Merry & bright

Bright blessings to you this Christmas.
I am listening to: Ave Maria - Jewel
I am reading: Time to Reboot America - Thomas Friedman
And I am: Merry

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

He knows

Gromit knows all about presents.

As soon as a few wrapped gifts appeared under the tree, he was all over 'em, sniffing and pawing and barking.

Of course, Gromit -- Brilliant and Gifted Dog -- quickly ascertained there was nothing under the tree for him quite yet, and this was the face we got:

"Where the hell are MY presents?"
I am listening to: Craig Ferguson
I am reading: Nothing really
And I am: Sleepy

Monday, December 22, 2008

The worst Christmas commercial ever

It’s Christmas morning and a cheery little family is gathered around the tree opening presents. Suddenly, the young, fresh-faced son realizes something is amiss: Mommy doesn’t have a gift.

“Mommy, what did daddy get YOU for Christmas?”

Mommy gazes off into the twinkle lights, recalling the night before: She’s in bed with daddy, who hands her a gift bag from Lover’s Lane. She pulls out a silky blue teddy and looks longingly into his eyes…

“Daddy gave me the gift of LOVE,” she replies.

Yes, little Johnny. Daddy gave your whore of a mother a hot Yule log for Christmas.

Isn’t that merry and bright?
Back at school:

“What did you get for Christmas, little Johnny?” asks the teacher.

“I got a train set and a basketball,” says little Johnny.

“And what did your daddy get your mommy?”

“Mommy says it was the Gift of Love but I’m pretty sure it was The Harvey Wall Banger Deluxe with Triple Rotating Action, the way she was hollerin’ all night. I thought for sure she’d scare off Santa, but he came. So did daddy, from what I could tell.”
Listen. I’m all for whatever keeps the eggnog flowing for you and Mrs. Santa this holiday season.

But kids? In an ad for a sex toy shop?

Excuse me while I go bleach my brain.
I am listening to: Keep Me in Your Heart – Jorge Calderon (Music from the Showtime series Californication)
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Never Googling ‘dildos’ ever again

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Darkest night

Merry Solstice, people.

It's the longest night of the year - a fabulous reminder to anyone in a really dark place (physically, mentally) that the sun always returns.

The world always get warmer and brighter.

It is one of the few things upon which we can depend.

Bright blessings to you and yours this dark night and always.
I am listening to: The howling wind
I am reading: This profile of Philip Seymour Hoffman in the New York Times
And I am: Struggling with some personal demons

Friday, December 19, 2008

I could just cry

Seriously. And just a few days before Christmas.

This is quite possibly the best present I've ever received - and it's from someone I've never met, about people I had no idea existed.

Please read this article from ABC News about the new Christian evangelist movement.

Here's the money quote:

"What's happened is that many of us have gotten to the point where we don't want to call ourselves evangelicals anymore if it means anti-women, anti gay, anti-environment and pro-war," Campolo told ABCNews.com. "That's not who we are."

And the last line gives me more hope for this world than I've had in quite some time:

"It's absurd to our generation that the state of civil unions would be the moral issue of our time," he said. "The further you dive into the subculture, the less comfortable we are with the evangelical labels and the more comfortable we are aspiring to be a follower of Jesus."

I stopped calling myself a Christian in the early 90's because of all the evil, repugnant things that evangelicals do and say in Jesus' name.

I'm thrilled to know that a new generation of Christians truly gets what he was all about and am hopeful that his simple message of love and acceptance will grow because of their efforts.
I am listening to: Gromit snoring on the couch next to me
I am reading: This article again, because it's so goddamn good
And I am: A follower of Jesus

Thursday, December 18, 2008

The customer service disconnect

A lot of folks long for the days of human interaction.

When customer service meant something. When a warm, friendly, knowledgeable person helped solve your problem.

Fuck that.

I’ll take a mouse and a laptop over a phone and a live person any day of the week.

Especially yesterday.

Twice. TWICE in one day I had a better experience on a web site than dealing with people. What’s more, I learned there’s a serious disconnect between what corporate web sites say they can deliver and what their people actually do.
“Hi I’m hoping you can help me.”

It’s 8 a.m. and I’m the first customer at the Office Depot customer service desk.

“Can I give you the product ID number on these Pitney Bowes postage labels I’m looking for? Your web site says you have them in stock.”

“WELL,” she replies importantly. “If it has to do with SHIPPING, it’ll be RIGHT over HERE.”

I follow her over to the envelope-box-Styrofoam peanut department.


If I’m her, and a potential customer went to the trouble of offering up an actual Office Depot product ID number, I’m looking up that little sucker straight away just to be sure I know what the hell we’re after before leading her on a small Christmas parade through the goddamn store.

But that’s just me.

I went to the web site the night before to locate the labels that I need need needed to send out holiday gift boxes to our clients (the office manager was swamped and didn’t have time to order them last week).

The Office Depot web site was extremely helpful. I found the right postage labels within seconds on the site and clicked on “Check Local Store Availability” to find them at a location near me.

Beautiful, yes?

No. Back in the shipping supplies department at the Office Depot on Indian Trail in Aurora, Illinois, things are getting ugly: No postage labels.

“Well, IF we had ‘em, they’d be RIGHT HERE,” she insisted.

“Could we maybe look up the product ID number?” I ask hopefully. “I have it right here. Your web site says you have them in stock.”


I look longingly at the PC on the customer service desk as we pass it yet again on our trek to the laser label department.

“They’d DEFINITELY be here IF we had ‘em,” she says again.

And my head goes kersplody all over the Avery 5422 multi-use labels.
Attention United States Post Office:

You have a problem.

Your web site’s writing checks that your people can’t cash (apologies to Viper).

Go to www.usps.com.

C’mon, do it. Right now.

Then click on the helpful tab towards the top center that says “Schedule Pick Up.”

See where it says 'Pick Up On Demand' service?

If you’re reading this before noon, you should be able to successfully schedule a parcel pick up for the low low price of $14.75.

The site provides a two-hour pick up window. You agree to have your packages ready by 1 p.m. You select a method of payment. And then (this is important) you receive a confirmation number.

Then, two hours later, you get a call from the local post office that goes something like this:

“Hello this is Mr. Williams calling from the post office regarding your pick up request. All of our trucks are full for the day so you’ll have to schedule another pick up for tomorrow. Please call me at 312-644-3929 if you have questions.”

Remember the postage labels? They’re for running through our company’s postage machine, which postmarks the label for the day the package is shipping. Once you slap that postage label on your package, it needs to go out that day or the post office won’t take it.

I waited to run my postage until I received my pick up confirmation number from the post office.

I’m silly fucked-up paranoid that way.
Where'd ya get the labels, Hed?

The office manager had ordered some from a web site the day before and like a small Christmas miracle, they arrived two days early.
I read somewhere that when you’re frustrated you should smile. It takes everything down a notch and leads to better customer service.

So I’m sitting at my desk smiling like Forrest Gump on a shrimp boat prior to picking up the phone.

“Hello Mr. Williams,” I say. “I’m calling about the On Demand pick up request I made earlier today.”

Here’s a summary:

“But your web site…”

“But I submitted my request at 10:30 a.m….”

“But I have a confirmation number…”

“But why would your web site provide a 2-hour window if picking it up was never an option…?”

“But I have post-marked packages that need to go out today…”

Mr. Wilson called me back four times – each time with another excuse for why he couldn’t pick up my packages that day.

He even read the web site to me:

“Mail pieces weighing more than 13 ounces bearing only postage stamps as postage, must be taken by the customer to an employee at the retail counter of a Post Office.”

“I used metered postage.”


“Requests must be received by 2:00 a.m. on the day your pickup is scheduled.”

“No, that only applies to carrier pick ups. The On Demand pick up section doesn’t say that.”


“Where are these packages? On the third floor?”

“Yes, the site requested the exact pick up location.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to bring them down to the first floor, you know we’re not UPS.”

That’s when my head went kersplody all over again.
Yes, that's Mr. Williams' actual phone number. Call it, if you like.

Tell him my packages made it out the door by 5 p.m. no thanks to him and his bullshit excuses.

Chris Baxter, Mail Carrier Extraordinaire, (and sadly the first capable, warm, friendly person I'd encountered all day), interrupted his residential delivery route to pick up my stuff.

He was almost enough to restore my faith in people. Almost.
I am listening to: Office voices
I am reading: How to submit a complain to the USPS
And I am: Sticking with my mouse

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Reason #1,771 why my Dad rocks

My cousin's four-year-old son Nicholas was 'acting up' at the family Christmas party on Sunday:

"Nicholas, you better be good or do you know what's going to happen?" asked Da.

"No, Uncle Rick."

"Santa Claus will come to your house and kill you."

Mom was horrified. Da later told Nicholas he was joking.

And Nick's father expressed gratitude for "saving me 20 grand in therapy."
I am listening to: 30 Rock
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Still laughing

Monday, December 15, 2008

Top 10 holiday traditions

10) The Turkey Raffle at the North Aurora firehouse. This charity event - usually held the weekend before Thanksgiving - kicks off our holiday season. Everyone we know and love is there. This year I won pork chops and a ham.

9) Thanksgiving at our house. It's pretty much an open house that starts around 11 a.m. with bloody Marys and a bonfire and ends whenever it ends with friends and neighbors watching Christmas Vacation and Trains, Planes & Automobiles -- with Jim's famous turkey on the grill and my famous makes-you-fart stuffing in between.

8) The Christmas Walk in Geneva. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Shopping. Santa. Friends. Although last year I stepped on a luminary and the whole bag went up in flames. And that was before the hot chocolate spiked with peppermint schnapps.

7) Walking along Michigan avenue, window shopping and laughing about the time I pooped in the bathroom at the Eddie Bauer store and Jim could smell it all the way out into the hallway. Then dinner at the Chophouse. Sometimes we walk up to Butch McGuire's on Division - a bar joyfully festooned with Christmas decorations. Spinning stuffed animals hang from the ceiling. Christmas lights everywhere. Our favorite is Santa sitting in the outhouse reading the Christmas issue of Playboy. Classic.

6) Heading into the city on a Sunday with Jim's mom to check out the windows at Marshall Field's (the best year was the Grinch, followed by Harry Potter), buying Frangos and then bopping over to the Christkindlmarket on Daley plaza. Then grabbing lunch at Miller's Pub. Of course Marshall Field's is now Macy's so it's really not the same at all.

5) Getting our Christmas tree at Swan's tree lot in Geneva. We've been doing this for at least five years, since the time we cheaped out and bought a $15 tree from Ace Hardware. The trunk was so rotten that it flopped over twice three times (Jim corrected me on this) (breaking dozens of ornaments) before Jim chucked it out the front door Christmas morning. This is also known as the Christmas We Almost Turned Jewish.

4) Setting up the Dickens Christmas village with Tina, the daughter of our close friends/neighbors. We sing along with the Grinch and Rudolph and Year Without a Santa Claus. I'm in charge of infrastructure - running electricity through the village and situating the buildings and roads. Tina is responsible for aesthetics - she adds the people, the vehicles, the trees and the snow. We've been doing this since she was five or six years old. She's 11.

3) Our annual Christmas dinner with Tina, her parents, and her two older brothers on the night before Christmas Eve. We switch who hosts it every year and make a huge feast and exchange gifts and watch Christmas shows. We've been doing this since we were married 10 years ago.

2) Driving to look at the lights in some of the ritzy-titzy neighborhoods on the west side of Aurora. We usually do this Christmas Eve after dinner/gifts with Jim's mom. She loves it.

1) Jim, making breakfast after we open our gifts Christmas morning. Then loading up the family truckster for Michigan - the drive is relaxing and quick - we listen to Christmas songs and Gromit sits on my lap the whole way there. We reach my parent's house and the holiday starts all over again with family, friends, gifts and dinner.
I am listening to: Tropic Thunder
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Blessed

Friday, December 12, 2008

The Charlie Browniest

"Are you happy?"


"This is what Christmas is all about."

"Getting drunk at our kitchen table?"

"Yes. Fuck presents."

"Fuck presents."

"Right. Fuck presents."
I am listening to: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Barenaked Ladies
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Drunk at Christmastime

Knowing when

Last night I was chatting with a woman who works for Playboy – we were talking about the big changes going on at that company (Christie’s recent resignation, a new web site, etc.) and I just couldn’t resist.

Hef’s gotta go. Seriously. It would do wonders for your brand.”

“Yes, he comes off as a creepy old dude,” another woman agreed.

“Does he have a son? Someone to represent a new generation?” I asked.

“They’re teenagers.”

Oh well.

Don’t get me wrong. Hugh Hefner is an icon. And Playboy is one of the world’s most recognized brands because of his vision. It’s more than a magazine, it’s a lifestyle – a lifestyle whose target audience (young urban men and women) is reading Maxim because they can’t-won’t-don’t relate to a scrawny ol’ perv wandering around in a bathrobe, regardless of how many blond bimbots are blowing him.

My point is, you can do amazing-super-pooper-duper-fabulous things with your life, but if you don’t know when to quit, it’s kinda pointless.

The auto industry is another great example. Da and me got into a mildly heated argument about it yesterday.

He says they deserve a government bail-out for helping make this country great by providing hard-working folks (who didn’t have a shot at college) a solidly middle class lifestyle and the opportunity to give their kids a better life.

“You benefited from the auto industry, Hedy, whether you realize it or not,” he said.

I do realize it. And he’s right. The auto industry did some great things.

But just like Hef in his silly silk robe, the auto companies have rested on the great things they did 50 years ago, assuming that consumers would continue to buy their over-priced-out-of-touch-gas-guzzling crap cars because of nostalgia and Bob Seger songs.

I know, I know. They’re not all crap. And the unions are what truly fucked the auto industry (and the fucking continues as they refused to take concessions yesterday that would have helped the rescue plan pass the Senate.)

Thomas Friedman said it best: “instead of focusing on making money by innovating around fuel efficiency, productivity and design, G.M. threw way too much energy into lobbying and maneuvering to protect its gas guzzlers."

You can kill a brand or a company or hell, an economy, by not knowing when to step down and let new minds improve on what you’ve built.

Here’s hoping that Hef steps aside before he dies. And here’s hoping the same for the leadership of the Big Three.
I am listening to: The Playboy Holiday Party Mix
I am reading: Neil Steinberg in the Sun-Times
And I am: Happy

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Illinois: Sold to the Highest Bidder

I’m sure you’ve heard by now: Our criminally insane Democratic governor, Rod R. Blagojevich, was arrested yesterday.

You can find all the dirty details on all the major news sites.

Of course anyone living in Illinois more than 10 minutes knew he was a criminal long before modern-day hero Patrick Fitzgerald made the announcement yesterday. But we didn’t know that Blago is a Class-A nut-job as well.

He’s been under federal investigation for at least three years. He knew he was being watched.

Still, he was scheming to sell the U.S. Senate seat vacated by president-elect Barack Obama.

Insane. Criminally insane.

And yes, it’s shocking. But here’s what really bothers me.

Someone (or maybe multiple someones) were buying. Or at least thinking about buying.

And if multiple someones were aware of this deal, how come no one – not one person – stepped forward to cry foul?

Of course the snitches are coming out of the woodwork now that this whole thing is public.

Read the transcripts and you’ll find that Obama is mentioned a lot. There was some speculation on a three-way deal that would land an Obama pick in the Senate seat and Blago in a cushy cabinet job – with certain union groups benefiting in between.

However, Blago is caught on tape saying the Obama administration wouldn’t be helpful.

His exact words: “They’re not willing to give me anything except appreciation. Fuck them.”

How did he know that? Did he ask them and they refused? Or did he know that without contacting them?

Is it possible that someone in the nascent Obama administration knew that Blago was selling that Senate seat to the highest bidder?

If so, they either a) Knew but didn’t say anything, b) Knew but said something and were told it was being handled or c) Didn’t know.

I guess the odds are in favor of them doing the right thing. But it bugs me.
I am listening to: Christmas songs
I am reading: All the blah blah on Blago
And I am: Disturbed

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

To whom we belong

Please read this letter published at Daily Coyote.

Here's my favorite part:

"Whatever you’re doing, I thought it might be useful to know, because likely even you need reminding, from time to time, that you don’t just belong to yourself. Each one of the rest of us holds a small share, and we will all hold you accountable if you mistreat what’s ours."

Please take care of yourself today and always.
I am listening to: Rain falling on the deck
I am reading: News about our governor being arrested
And I am: Quiet

Monday, December 08, 2008


"He couldn't have sex with his wife for a year." - co-worker #1

"When you're married it's called making love." - co-worker #2

"Have you ever been married?" - co-worker #1
I am listening to: Voice mail
I am reading: CARE profile
And I am: An analyzer/regulator

Sunday, December 07, 2008

What Hank said

"Sixty-two years," says the priest at the pulpit, looking down at the sobbing widower in the first pew.

"Sixty-two years of marriage. Isn't that something? Henry and I were talking last night, and here's what he said about his life with Lorraine: 'I just wish we could do it all over again.'"

I just wish we could do it all over again.

Hank is 84. So was Lorraine, born just two days before her husband.

"I love older women," he'd say, smiling.

I just wish we could do it all over again.

Three sons and a daughter. A small crowd of grandchildren and great grand kids.

I just wish we could do it all over again.

His wife hadn't actually recognized him - or any family member - for at least a year due to advanced Alzheimer's.

I just wish we could do it all over again.

He cried at the funeral home. At the church. And in the chapel at the cemetery, where he left her.

I just wish we could do it all over again.
I am listening to: Quiet house
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Quiet

Friday, December 05, 2008


Editorial note: There are no ads on HedyBlog, for a variety of good reasons. And I’ve offered up endorsements in the past, but today’s post is different. I’m writing about UWantSavings.com because a) I’ve tried it myself and b) I really think you could benefit from it. Full disclosure: two very good friends of mine were instrumental in launching this business. So that’s another great reason to check it out. A small favor: If you like what you see, please share the site with your friends and family members, too. Thanks and happy holidays.
Too much stuff.

What happens when Wal-Mart, Target, and other retail box stores slow down their buying? What happens when a manufacturer makes too many of a given product?

There's too much stuff. It sounds impossible, but it happens all the time.

There’s fabulous, brand-new stuff out there – that major retailers just don’t have room for –waiting to find a home.

That’s where UWantSavings.com comes in.

They find a variety of amazing overstock items and sell them at up to 80% off the retail price.

The site itself is based on a cool concept: UWantSavings offers a limited number of new items every day, things you’ll find in different areas of their online ‘house’. Cookware and utensils in the kitchen, tools in the garage, and one-of-a-kind items in the attic. There are also great deals on toys in the kids’ rooms and bath and body goods in the bathroom.

It’s a good idea to explore the UWantSavings house every day because you just never know what inexpensive and extremely useful item you might find.

How is this site different from Woot!, Hedy? UWantSavings is similar to Woot! in concept only. Like I said, they offer a limited number of items each day until they’re sold out.

But the prices you’ll find at UWantSavings are considerably lower than any other overstock discount site on the Internet. In fact, the folks at UWantSavings often provide helpful ‘shout-outs’ to other sites offering the same products as UWS – priced ridiculously higher.

How come I haven’t heard of UWantSavings yet? Because they’ve only been online for a month. But they’ve already got more than 300 happy customers, including me. Better still, UWantSavings is getting a lot of attention on deal aggregator sites like:


Plus, they're getting good traffic from these social shopping & networking sites:

www.slickdeals.net (forums)

UWantSavings also is getting great press in the Chicago Sun-Times, the Daily Herald, Internet Retailer, and Retailer Daily. Click to read the articles.

What did you get from UWantSavings.com, Hedy? I’ll be happy to tell you – after Christmas. All of my closest family members are receiving gifts from UWantSavings this year. Of course, we’ll spend the holidays teaching Gromit how to use his brand-new Panini maker, but it’ll be time well spent if we can only get him to stop drooling on everything he makes.

Happy shopping!
I am listening to: Office sounds
I am reading: Henry VIII – Margaret George
And I am: Shopping at UWantSavings.com

Thursday, December 04, 2008

The nut doesn't fall too far

12/3/2008 3:53:46 PM CST

Hello Mudder - How are you feeling? Any better? I'm sitting at my desk
eating NAKED pistachios! (I'm not naked, the nuts are) I think the
office manager got them from Costco - it's a bag of un-shelled
pistachios and they're wonderful - all the great taste, none of the effort.

Love you, miss you, xoxo,


12/3/2008 5:27:17 PM CST

Hello Hedder - I like working for my nuts.

I am listening to: Coughing in the office
I am reading: Henry VIII by Margaret George
And I am: Nuts about naked pistachios

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

If a tree blows a stop sign

There are five stop signs in between my house and the health club.

I blew ‘em all this morning.

That’s right. 10 stops. Rolled right the-goddamn-through every single one of ‘em.

Hedy, Hedy, Hedy.

I know. I’m in serious trouble.

Everyone knows blowing stop signs is a gateway to committing bigger crimes. Pretty soon I’ll be stealing plastic lawn ornaments and running around naked with underwear on my head singing Delta Dawn.

Or something.

Here’s the deal: Stops signs – and traffic laws in general – are designed to keep people safe.

But if there are no people around at 4:30 in the morning, what’s the harm in not stopping?

What’s the harm, Hedy? What’s the HARM? We have laws for a reason. Whether you realize it or not, you breaking the law when no one is looking reveals a lot about your character.

Whoa. Whoa the fuck down, Tonto. When did a moving violation become an indictment on a person’s character? Seriously.

Again, traffic laws are to keep people safe. If I’m the only one on the road and I feel like driving 95 miles per hour, who the hell am I hurting?
Using that logic, Hedy, would you steal if no one were looking?

Well. It depends.

If it’s a cookie or a swipe of frosting off a cake, you bet your ass I’m a thief. A joyful, chubby little thief.

However. Only under certain circumstances. Certainly never from a bakery or grocery store. But in my kitchen or the kitchen of a close friend or relative? Sure.

Plus, if the baked goods are sitting out – just waiting to be eaten – technically it’s not stealing. And isn’t there something deliciously sinful about sneaking a cookie when no one’s looking? They just taste better.

But what if you could steal a bunch of money and no one would ever know and you’d never get caught, would you do it?

C’mon. Of course not. Stealing is one of those crimes – like wearing stretch pants – that happens to be wrong all the time. Especially when no one is looking.

And I think you'll agree that taking what hasn’t been earned is one of the biggest problems facing American society today, right behind wearing stretch pants.
I am listening to: Delta Dawn – Helen Reddy
I am reading: Henry the Eighth by Margaret George
And I am: Breakin’ the law