tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71432402024-03-05T04:44:13.770-08:00AMUZE: Commentary Humor Etc.Life is too strange, not to laugh at it. Here are my views.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-76138065026300919862008-11-13T10:45:00.000-08:002008-11-14T09:14:39.697-08:00Barney's Lessons Learned for the Obama's Dog Selection<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYgS5eyO93hUk-OIWcpiXOkLXZmSnYYLes3DGstyM-SaiT9_p8w6KbMkVfwfkt_hOFxaLrt4S_lRU-kn-RWzSAieWgIbv5LPZF1sqmwmsYbczE6VqeCsua0QQQjywO4K7hS4/s1600-h/barneywhitehouse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYgS5eyO93hUk-OIWcpiXOkLXZmSnYYLes3DGstyM-SaiT9_p8w6KbMkVfwfkt_hOFxaLrt4S_lRU-kn-RWzSAieWgIbv5LPZF1sqmwmsYbczE6VqeCsua0QQQjywO4K7hS4/s200/barneywhitehouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268215951941191442" border="0" /></a>Everyone is talking about how the Obama family will choose and get their dog. There's a group that is pressuring them to get a shelter dog which Obama refers to as "a mutt like me." But Malia is allergic.<br /><br />While walking my dog, Ewok, many mutt owners have admitted to having their dogs genetically tested. There have been few surprizes, the brown and white mishmash that had long beagle ears and howled a lot, was part beagle.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">DNA Testing for Sneeze Prevention</span><br />In the Obama family doggie dilemma, the girls could pick a dog they liked. Then the hypo-allergenic appearing mutt could be tested for heritage. If its a Poodle and other hypo-allergic mix, they then would get to keep the perspective pooch.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Aggression Testing and Media Training</span><br />Because the<span style="font-style: italic;"> canine celeb </span>will be in the White House, it should also be tested for aggression and given media training, so that it doesn't go after the press like the Bushes' Barney who bit the Reuters reporter. In an exclusive interview with the Examiner.com, Barney said he did it because, " <span style="font-style: italic;">I was in a bad mood, and I just snapped</span>."<br /><br />I was able to obtain records from Barney's psychiatrist, who found that:<br /><br /><blockquote>Barney, does not like what President W. Bush has done to economy and that many dogs are being sent to the pound because their owners can't afford the increasing price of dog food (especially corn-based). The aggressive biting behavior was Barney's way of letting the world know that he too wanted change and was not going to take it any more.<br /><br />Barney has also left his mark and messages on several of the Presidential chairs, rugs and curtains to let the new pup-elect know how Barney really feels.</blockquote><br />After seeing the Halloween photo of the Bush family pets. I think Barney was also sick of being dressed up in silly costumes. A hypo-allergenic mutt with an even temper who has passed both genetic testing and media training may be able to deal with the stress of stupid pet costumes.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TwaqCwZM_bOdDeZws-ApYE8AQwwJ4_OBdpfSe6MW9S3XRzW5IHpBbXhPBVXKTgdOyQN5oEcrrQyjlps4kd24EC8Cy8ZDaeAU0y5d1ic2-1IxxgeNXJf2b5l4_My6XX6wRQg/s1600-h/halloween_card-08-smallbarneysmall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TwaqCwZM_bOdDeZws-ApYE8AQwwJ4_OBdpfSe6MW9S3XRzW5IHpBbXhPBVXKTgdOyQN5oEcrrQyjlps4kd24EC8Cy8ZDaeAU0y5d1ic2-1IxxgeNXJf2b5l4_My6XX6wRQg/s200/halloween_card-08-smallbarneysmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268216057089088674" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-77395087823197663942007-05-03T11:38:00.000-07:002007-05-03T11:45:52.819-07:00"G" Miracles Hope and CrazinessYou may have noticed I have had strange and often humorous experiences with my "G" word. It's gets even more entertaining and thought provoking.<br /><br />Formerly, I rented part of the "G" space to a friend for an antique dilapidated car for next to nothing. Recently, he removed said vehicle and I posted an ad on CraigsList.<br /><br />That adorable fertilized enclosure with it's propensity for attracting manure, generated me quite a sum of money: $800 for four months while a lovely young couple goes to India.<br /><br />What are they going to do there? Build houses and sewers.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1161801688671355222006-10-25T11:40:00.000-07:002006-10-25T11:41:28.673-07:00Birthday GreetingsI received birthday cards in the mail<br />Form people who knew me when:<br />I was not happy,<br />Neurotic,<br />Poor,<br />Unkind to myself,<br />A cry baby,<br />No fun to be around,<br />A pain to live with,<br />Low on spirit, <br />High on fear,<br />Not a good listener,<br />Cranky when I need not be.<br />And still they sent me kind words of encouragement<br />Saying that they were glad that I was born.<br />Maybe I’m not so bad after all.<br /><br />LHAAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1140721272863815492006-02-23T10:59:00.000-08:002007-05-03T11:57:49.307-07:00Re: “G” Spots and Issues<a href="http://lwalfordhome.makemoneywithyourpcbook.com/garagalleymini.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 200px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://lwalfordhome.makemoneywithyourpcbook.com/garagalleymini.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Dear L.A. ED 2010 People:<br /><br />Please be advised that since so many members of the group have garage “issues,” I would like to suggest we refrain from using the “g” word in each others company.<br /><br />The fact that Mr. & Mrs. D--- came to the meeting unfashionably late because they could not get out of their “you know what” and their South African sushi-chef-in-training roommate had the only functioning remote to raise the steel gates should never be brought up again. Mr. D’s climb up the wall and various other failed methods are now completely forgotten.<br /><br />While we are it, please do not tell me what I should do with my “g” door. Just because it gets really heavy in the rain and I can’t open it is my issue not yours. Mention of the fact that during one rainy season, I strained my neck and back dealing with said door and was in pain for days is verboten as well as the incident when the door was not fully open as I walked out and it caught my up-do pulling my hair. The matter of said leaking roof causing the stored Christmas ornaments and old panty hose to grow mold is an unacceptable topic of conversation.<br /><br />Please refrain from discussing the time when I was up on top of “the thing that usually houses cars” sweeping off the green swimming pool of water and the ladder fell, leaving me stranded for an undisclosed time. The downward hop to the fence, while holding on for dear life is history not to be repeated.<br /><br />Above you can see a picture of the unmentionable “g” from the outside which to world looks just fine. So let’s keep our lips and doors closed on all our dirty little “g” secrets.<br /><br />Please note: a new plastic or metal door with color windows would destroy, “the let’s convert the carport to a g%/~#@e with as little cost as possible” look.<br /><br />Sincerely yours,<br />Lynn Walford<br /><br />House’s <a href="http://lwalfordhome.makemoneywithyourpcbook.com/wholehouse.htm">homepage</a>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1136833608617308442006-01-09T11:06:00.000-08:002006-01-09T11:06:48.630-08:00Thoughts on World WorkersWorld Workers <br /><br />As she took apart the curtains she bought for $3.75,<br />She thought how well made they were.<br />The very tiny folded edges to prevent frays<br />Were a bitch to redo.<br />She spent hours cutting, pinning and ironing <br />The sheer fragile fabric.<br /><br />As she ironed she praised those women in China<br />Slaving in the big factory, working for next to<br />Nothing living in tiny rooms, having to buy<br />Company food at the company store.<br />She praised and thanked the women in<br />Those countries who made her leather sneakers<br />That cost only $9.95.<br />She blessed the women who made the jeans<br />Tops, and dresses she wore, knowing that over<br />95% of clothes bought in the U.S. were foreign made.<br />She vowed never to shop at Wal-Mart<br />And try to only buy things made in humane conditions.<br /><br />She remembered her Grandmother who<br />Worked in the blouse factory.<br />How beautifully Grandma Louise sewed.<br />Each stitch was a work of art,<br />Grandma could sew sheer silk without a hitch.<br />By then she was so tired she couldn’t thread the sewing machine,<br />Her hands shook as she tried to get the seam<br />Exactly straight, which made her love?<br />Her meticulous sisters, mothers and family in sewing even more.<br /><br />The next day she finished sewing the curtains,<br />Wishing she had bought the right size.<br />Whoops they were uneven,<br />She tore apart her makeshift seams and attempted <br />To even them out.<br />Finally she could live with her imperfect curtains.<br /><br />As she cleaned up the sewing mess,<br />She noticed the packages the curtains came in.<br />It read, “Fabric imported from Turkey and sewn in the U.S.A.”<br /><br /><br />LHA 1/09/06Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1115055069013328042005-05-02T10:29:00.000-07:002005-05-11T13:59:45.386-07:00Letter To Mary Schmich Pomona '75/ Chicago Tribune ColumnistHello Mary:<br /><br />Thanks for speaking at the Pomona College alumni symposium this weekend. I particularly enjoyed your comments about the “boys” and “girls” at the town hall meeting.<br /><br />Your talk on Saturday was especially illuminating. You really hit on something with your refrigerator quotes. I think you can tell a lot about people by what they have on their refrigerators. I bet you if you surveyed your readers you’d get some very perverse responses.<br /><br />As for myself, I had a psychoanalytical field day when I got home and looked at my fridge with lots of magnets that had nothing to hold-up, a free magnet from my insurance agent and the following:<br /><img src="http://www.freelancewriternow.com/bukowski.jpg" alt="Bukowski Fridge Magnet" /><br />A Charles Bukowski, create your own poetry magnet, all in one piece with no poetry created from it. Mmmnn, maybe this relates to my current state of not being able to write poetry because I’ve been so busy writing non-fiction or perhaps it acts as a symbol of all poetry which are words that have not been placed in the right order yet?<br /><br />Another major portion of the fridge reveals the other love of my life, my dog, Ewok. His food is stored in the great white magnate holder and if he could, he would be this dog from Callahan:<br /><img src="http://www.freelancewriternow.com/dogfrige.jpg" alt="Dog Practicing Telekinesis" /><br /><br />So now you too know that I am a petrosexual(or canine-o-holic.) Not only do I take my dog everywhere (a feisty little yorkie-poo whose <a href="http://lwalfordhome.makemoneywithyourpcbook.com/ewok.htm">Web page</a> was Goggled before I was) but his influence also takes up most of the fridge!<br /><br />Congratulations on having a successfully brilliant/inspiring refrigerator and talk.<br /><br />If/when you publish it someday, I’d like to post it on my fridge…<br /><br />Sincerely yours,<br />Lynn Walford<br /><a href="http://freelancewriternow.com">http://freelancewriternow.com/</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1095103381905456312004-09-13T13:20:00.000-07:002004-09-13T12:23:01.906-07:00Friendly MistakesMy friend Marsha was in a car accident.
<br />She paid a pretty penny for the car repair.
<br />But Marsha decided there’s a reason they call it an accident.
<br />So, she didn’t worry who’s fault it was or if it was fair.
<br />She said, “I made a mistake, I learned from the mistake.
<br />I changed the way I do things a bit and now my life is a little better because of it.”
<br />
<br />My friend Linda was in a bad marriage
<br />She unfortunately had married a jerk.
<br />When he left her with debts and a broken toilet,
<br />She had no regrets, found another guy and went back to work.
<br />She said, “I made a mistake, I learned from the mistake.
<br />I changed the way I do things a bit and now my life is a little better because of it.”
<br />
<br />How could we ever learn, if we didn’t make a mistake once in a while?
<br />Oh, how the mistake will burn when you forget to smile.
<br />I am fortunate that I have friends, who show me,
<br />A mistake is a wonderful opportunity to get to know me.
<br />
<br />My friend Julie couldn’t find her keys
<br />She had to pay a locksmith to get them replaced.
<br />She made extra copies, hid them in rocks and under her fender,
<br />While herself she embraced.
<br />She said, “I made a mistake. I learned from the mistake.
<br />I changed the way I do things a bit and now my life is a little better because of it.”
<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">****
<br />This song is dedicated to MARSHA who had a great attitude about her mistakes.</span>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1094499301333393352004-09-06T13:33:00.000-07:002004-09-06T12:35:01.333-07:00I Met Him in My BackyardThe Purr-Fect Encounter
<br />
<br />100 degrees in my parched backyard
<br />You yell, howl, call to me.
<br />What are you crazy? It’s too hot.
<br />Still you call me,
<br />Telling me something I don’t understand.
<br />Do you want water?
<br />Nope, not water.
<br />Okay, I’ll feed you.
<br />You’re light as a feather
<br />When I touch you,
<br />The fleas jump in the air at me,
<br />You purr, deeply, filling the world around you with love.
<br />
<br />When I come back later that night you are still there.
<br />Crying, howling calling, walking between my legs.
<br />You’re still hungry, you must be starving,
<br />You devour a can of gook,
<br />Who abandoned you, so pretty and white?
<br />Amber eyes filled with hope, say pet me,
<br />And you purr, purr, purr purr some more, again
<br />Healing every bit of pain or bad thought I might have.
<br />I put you in the crate for the night.
<br />I know, I’ll open the door to let you go home,
<br />But you don’t leave.
<br />Cat lady will find you a home,
<br />Her vet will take you, give you to a kid in the Valley who will pamper you.
<br />The maid will clean up your hair.
<br />Good bye sweet prince, sweet cat, it was too short,
<br />For even though you were starving, abandoned, left for dead, you purred,
<br />I wish you could have taught me how to purr.
<br />Purr, kitty, purr.
<br />
<br />LHA 9/6/04
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1088635917299133602004-06-30T15:48:00.000-07:002004-07-09T10:46:18.810-07:00How Many E-mails Does it Take to Get Donuts to AWG Meeting?I can't go into the previous months of conference calls and e-mails it first took to get the donuts to the <a href="http://www.vancesoft.com/awg/">Alameda Writers Group</a> meeting but here's what happens when writers order donuts for their monthly meeting:
<br />
<br /><strong>1. From Volunteer organizer Sue cc:ed to President (Marc) and V.P.</strong>
<br />
<br />Hey Lynn,
<br />
<br />I know you are the wonderful person who arranged for the donuts to be delivered to the AWG GMM's, but I'm wondering how it all works (a little late in my job to find out, but I'd like to know none the less). Actually my interest is peeked due to the unusual Sat. that's been chosen for the July meeting. It's the second Saturday (7/10) instead of the first. Does the bakery automatically show up or do you remind them? If you are the one that's in touch with the bakery, I guess this is just a reminder that the meeting is on July 10 next month.
<br />
<br />Could you let me know how the donut connection works for future changes, or if I need to call the bakery directly?
<br />
<br />Thanks,
<br />Sue
<br /><strong>
<br />2. Response from Lynn:</strong>
<br />Hey Sue;
<br />
<br />As far as I know, Christina’s Donuts receives a check before the meeting with the date of the meeting on the check. The treasurer mails the check.
<br />
<br />I have told her that we usually we don’t meet in July, but that was last year. Please note: everyone dealing with this topic has donut issues, so we try to deal with it delicately. I used to call the donut place and e-mail the treasurer but then some sort of donut system was set up.
<br />
<br />I do not know how the system works during leap months…
<br />
<br />If someone so pleases you may call the donut place to remind her/check on the order. It’s open 24 hours a day.
<br />
<br />The donut saga continues.
<br />
<br />C’ya at the meeting.
<br />
<br />Lynn
<br />
<br /><strong>3. From Sue the Next Morning:</strong>
<br />
<br />Lynn,
<br />
<br />Would you have ever thought donuts could be such a mystery? I'm assuming that you set up the initial order a long long time ago and they just keep sending the same thing. What do you think?
<br />
<br />Sue
<br />
<br />----- Original Message -----
<br />From: Treasurer, Bruce
<br />To: Sue
<br />Sent: Tuesday, June 29, 2004 9:34 PM
<br />Subject: Re: Donuts
<br />
<br />
<br />Hi Sue. I will order them for July 10th. I will send them a check this week and I will also call and make sure they understand the meeting is a week later than usual. The question is however, who does order the donuts? Sure, I make sure they are paid for and delivered, but who actually tells the donut place what donuts to bring? Since I never make it to the meetings, I have no way of knowing if the members are getting the kinds of donuts they really like. We should look into this. Bruce.
<br />
<br />
<br />On Monday, June 28, 2004, at 10:51 AM, Sue wrote:
<br />
<br />Hey Bruce,
<br />
<br />Just a thought, but do you order the donuts or just pay for them? I have asked Alan Miller the same question, because I want to make sure that the are delivered on July 10th and not this weekend.
<br />
<br />Did you receive the checks I sent you? Sorry they were so late.
<br />
<br />Sue
<br /><strong>
<br />4. Response from Lynn cc:ed to Sue, Bruce, President Marc and V.P. Travis</strong>
<br />
<br />Hi y’ all:
<br />
<br />The standard order is two dozen fancy and two dozen regular donuts.
<br />
<br />The fancy include fritters, filled (like jelly and custard). I personally like a custard donut once in a while.
<br />
<br />She makes them fresh just for us. I noticed the apple fritters didn’t go too well last time. You can suggest she substitute something else.
<br />
<br />If you put the type of donuts to a vote, we may not decide until next year.
<br />
<br />Just say two dozen fancy and two dozen regular….forget the fritters.
<br />
<br />LW
<br />
<br /><strong>5. Response from President Marc</strong>
<br />
<br />RE: Donuts, Donuts, and More Donuts!
<br />
<br />I love donuts!
<br />
<br />Donuts are the most important part of the entire AWG!
<br />
<br />And I'm fond of the custard ones, too.
<br />
<br />Who needs fritters? I sure as hell don't. Donuts are an American obsession. Fritters doesn't sound American!
<br />
<br />Sue, thanks you for handling this.
<br />
<br />Lynn, thanks you for getting back to her so promptly, and for being so helpful.
<br />
<br />We'd hate to have to pay for donuts to be delivered on the wrong day (7/3), and then not have any on the right day (7/10).
<br />
<br />Sue, let me know if you are able to make contact with the donut person and all is good.
<br />
<br />M.
<br />
<br />#####
<br />Comment from Lynn:
<br />That's why we voted against bagels.....
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1086382337180365112004-06-04T13:48:00.000-07:002004-06-04T13:52:17.180-07:00Invasion of the Suppermarket Attention SnatchersIt was a busy day, I didn’t have time to go to the market until late at night. I figured I’d miss all the screaming kids in the lines, skate through the aisles, get all my staples, then fly out of my local Ralphs with ease. However, when it came time to checkout, all the lines were backed up like a bad freeway at rush hour. My patience was wearing thin, and it totally disappeared when I saw and heard the latest addition to the checkout experience. Perched above the magazines, breath mints, and astrology guides was a big-screen color computer monitor, with MTV-like videos of supermarket fair spewing out advice, commercials and recipes through crummy speakers in every aisle.
<br />
<br />The sound was worse then a six-year-old’s birthday party where all your friends have given your kid, the latest battery powered electronic toys including guns, guitars and a piano/drum machine before the batteries run out. Each aisle had the tinny, bad speakers playing different static pitches out of sync with each other in a cacophony of irritation.
<br />
<br />My head screamed in defiance with an instant headache of manic proportions. How dare they invade my personal time in line checking-out. I use my line time to observe how the rest of the world lives and eats. Mmmn, this guy must eat healthy, lots of vegetables. She must be throwing a party look at all those chips and dips. With the massive amounts of daily stress in my life, I need some time to relax, escape, read stories about alien invasions, celebrity break-ups or sneak a peak at the latest fashions. Maybe I want to take a look at my love-life astrology and know that my good life is improving. What I do in the market line should be my choice, not what the market decides what I should watch and hear.
<br />
<br />Ouch, my ears hurt, the sound of screeching nails on a chalkboard would be better. What ever happened to that lovely supermarket music where I used to escape the hot summer air and dance around the cool aisles in delight? What am I supposed to do--- see the advertisement for quick bake biscuits, leave the line, run over to the refrigerator section and be so compelled to buy biscuits because they’ll be fresher? While watching the lovely couple smile and kiss to bad transistor radio music… I’ll be so enticed by their teeth…I’ll switch toothpaste brands? The only ads they should show are for earplugs or a headache remedy that works on headaches caused by your supermarket ruining your shopping experience.
<br />
<br />Finally my groceries moved on the conveyer belt to the checker. As he scanned my order, I stated sternly, “I vote NO to that!” as I pointed to the monster monitor.
<br />
<br />He stared back at me with piercing eyes, as if I insulted him personally, “We’ve had no complaints before,” he blurted back.
<br />
<br />“You should at least be able to turn down the volume,” I said wanting to punch out both him and the screeching mechanical nemesis. He sneered back at me and gave me my change.
<br />
<br />Fuming, I went home, booted up my PC and e-mailed customer service to the
<br />supermarket.
<br />
<br />“We’ve had no complaints, about this before,” the e-mail said as well as the woman on the toll-free customers service line.
<br />
<br />Have people gotten so immune to technology that no matter what they get blasted at them they can tune it out and ignore it? Or am I crazy? I will never return to that market, even if they gave me triple coupons and neck massages for my headache. They say we’ll be seeing more devices like those in the future. It does not make sense to me.
<br />
<br />I’d like to see the supermarkets actually do something to improve my shopping experience not hinder it. They already put in computer monitors on my line, give me a keyboard and wireless mouse, and let me surf the Net at my leisure, set the volume on the computers, check my stock quotes, bid on an online auction, e-mail Grandma. Put in cable or satellite TV and give each supermarket club member a remote. I don’t have time to go to the movies at least I could get a few minutes of the latest flick. Better yet, give me a remote to the market, I’ll drive up, push a few buttons, scroll through some menus on the monitor in the parking lot and a cute friendly bag-boy will come out smiling with two bags full of groceries and tell me how beautiful I look (even though I have more bags under my eyes then he’s carrying.)
<br />
<br />I e-mailed Grandma about my extra special service idea. She said that’s the way market people used to be when they believed in customer service. They were always smiling and very polite. Except, she didn’t use a remote, just a phone and a good relationship with the grocer who cared about his customers.
<br />********
<br />Lynn Walford has been a freelance writer for over 13 years. Her work has been published extensively. More information is available at http://www.freelancewriternow.com
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1086381687573675482004-06-04T13:39:00.000-07:002004-06-04T13:41:27.573-07:00Women's Ageless Strength = BeautyI just found out this poem lost the Oil of Ollay poetry contest--- I guess my view of beauty is way different than theirs...
<br />
<br />Women’s Ageless Strength = Beauty
<br />
<br />
<br />A mother lifts a car to save a baby.
<br />Teacher/grandma/friend, shows children how to sing, dance draw, ‘n’ be free.
<br />Girlfriends go from Go-Go Girls to “You Go! Girls.”
<br />Women make gardens grow, offices greet, dresses sing, and homes nurture.
<br />We turn personal tragedy into opportunities to heal.
<br />We talk it all through ---surviving losses, herassment and pain greater than birth.
<br />We learn from our experiences, then lightly share our wisdom.
<br />Taking good care of ourselves first, spreading care out to the world,
<br />We pile up love, hope, faith and bring inspiration; making us unstoppable.
<br />You don’t have to ask us how old we are,
<br />Our beauty defies age, and time.
<br />Our loving strength emanates beyond all dimensions.
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1086381366399167482004-06-04T13:35:00.000-07:002004-06-04T13:36:06.400-07:00Hot Pant MemoriesWhy I Can’t Throw Away My Suede Hot Pants c. 1974
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<br />They still fit.
<br />I bought them on sale for $12.99, an incredible value.
<br />They have flattering stripes on the side.
<br />They remind me of Disco.
<br />We’ve been through a lot together.
<br />They’re irreplaceable?
<br />They signify a transition in time when women finally got to wear pants,
<br />Even though they were hot as hell.
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7143240.post-1085780672434104792004-05-28T14:34:00.000-07:002004-05-28T14:44:32.433-07:00DigiCOMmenatry V. 1.3.DigiCOMmentary V. 1.3
<br />by Lynn Walford
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<br /><strong>Digital Personal Relationglitches©</strong>
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<br />In this digital age, many of my relationships haven been reduced to terse e-mails that state, “I’m too busy to call you, ” or that famous wireless axiom, “I can’t talk, I’m out of free minutes,” proving that I’m not worth the cost of the communication.
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<br />I’ll admit, I’ve used, the “my battery is dying,” excuse with my sister who could talk for an hour without taking a breath. I’m also guilty of identifying my location when my cell phone rings, “Hi, this is Lynn, I’m in the bathroom at Wal-Mart.” But no matter what I do when receiving or sending personal messages in any digital media, it just doesn’t feel right.
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<br /><strong>Dear John, I Love You :( </strong>
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<br />In the old days (pre-1990-something) job rejections, test scores, break-up notices, love letters and birthday cards came in the mail. Now, although I’m glad to get a link to an e-greeting card, it seems to take forever to get to the point after ads and silly animations. I haven’t had to e-mail a “Dear John” letter but I did e-mail an implied interest in someone, and never did get a response, which I assume is an implied rejection.
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<br />Somehow, I can’t delete the message from that Web SoulMate finder service with the RE: proclaiming, “We guarantee you will fall in love, or your money back...” It’s hard to take e-mail seriously, when love comes with a money back guarantee.
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<br /><strong>Will You Look at That?</strong>
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<br />Daily messages telling me how to enlarge my penis (when I don’t have one) have reduced my faith in e-mail communications further. After opening what seemed to be a letter from my friend Jenny and seeing another Jenny with an enlarged penis, I wished photos could never be included in e-mail. My friend, who sent me 83 megabytes of photos of his new-born nephew, had his status reduced greatly, when after I begged him to limit the size of his e-mail dumps, he continued to send stupid jokes (all of which had to be opened in a different program) and enormous JPEGS, including a portrait of semi-nude scarecrows with anatomically correct pumpkin boobs and bootys for Halloween. He felt no qualms about sending a close-up of Janet Jackson's nipple jewelry without a clue of what I would see when it was opened. It took a while for me to figure out what it was because it didn't show a face!
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<br /><strong>Party in 3 Minutes/Welcome to the Dead Poets Society</strong>
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<br />Mass e-mailing is the method of choice for news and social events. However, they don’t always give you enough notice. One JAVA-programmer friend sent out a mass e-mail at 5:55 pm for a gathering at a dance club that night. Since I’m wired intravenously to my e-mail client, I could have had time to get to the Sunset Strip in Hollywood but those already on the freeway missed their invitations.
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<br />Recently, the greatest numbers of mass e-mails I’ve received are hospital/surgery and death notices. The sysop of a list of existential angst Noir poets e-mailed the details of an old poet’s morbid demise including the hospital location and visiting hours. Members of the poet’s family then pleaded, “Please stop visiting him in the hospital. He would like to rest in peace!”
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<br />You Didn’t Get it?</strong>
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<br />Many people participating in personal or working relationships via e-mail assume that when an e-mail message appears in sent box, that it was received—WRONG. After I installed the latest version of Norton Anti-Virus, two editors and a representative from the Public Relations department at my ISP, informed me that they didn’t receive my e-mail even though it appeared in the sent box. “I didn’t get your e-mail,” is another one of those phrases that are read/heard all too often. Did they delete my messages by accident thinking it was for natural Viagra or did the messages just evaporate?
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<br />I could phone my friends on the old fashioned landline, but they are never home. Then comes the quandary, if I leave a landline message, should I try the cell also? If I leave messages on both phones then I look really desparate...
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<br />Beam Me Up TechnoHunK
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<br />More forms of digital communication are coming with TabletPCs, integrated wireless phones and PocketPCs. I’ve owned a PocketPC for a year and I only beamed a file or contact information twice, once at a PocketPC tradeshow and another to test it. I doubt if I’ll ever beam a TechnoHunk at CES the words, “Would you like to Bluetooth me now?”
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<br />Some frustrated digiphobes assert that personal communications are best done in person. However, I’m not ready to give up all digital communication yet. A strange thing happened after my writers group awards ceremony, where I was a presenter. We had to write jokes a few minutes before we gave out the awards. I split infinitives with film and TV writers. Shortly following the event, our president e-mailed me a link to Hallmark.com. Although I had to sit through an ad and a long animation, the original writing in the card is what got me. I was thanked for my gracious, funny work and called a “sparkling star.” It was better than any Hallmark moment I ever experienced---even on digital TV.
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<br />More DigiCOMmentaries available at <a href="http://www.freelancewriternow.com">http://www.freelancewriternow.com
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<br /></a><blockquote></blockquote>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09156443032122244030noreply@blogger.com0