Loaner Phone Part 1: Contact list

Last June I jumped feet first into the world of smart phones with my Samsung Moment. It was love at first touch. Over the next few months, my Samsung Moment failed me again and again while I became increasingly dependent on it. I feel like my Samsung Moment and I need to go to couples therapy.

The first problem was last summer when the plug port became bent because I dropped it too many times when it was plugged in for no obvious reason. Sprint replaced it with a refurbished phone.

The second time was a right after I got back from maternity leave. The phone was often unresponsive and wouldn't hold a charge for more than an hour. I took it in and Sprint replaced it with a refurbished phone.

Three or so weeks ago, my Samsung Moment was unresponsive again and would power down for no reason and then take hours to restart (even plugged in). Once at work I waited two hours for it to restart. A few nights later I plugged it in while it was restarting, woke up with Baby Blogworthy at 3 am and it still wasn't charged after four hours and had pretty much set my pillow on fire with the overheated battery. I pulled out the battery and it finally started.

The next night it crashed for real. After my phone tried to load for almost 12 straight hours, the battery died and it sort of gave up on life.

Although I'm only 18 days from an upgrade, Sprint wouldn't let me go ahead and give them my cash monies for a new phone. Instead, they sent my Samsung Moment away YET AGAIN. I get it back today, but for the weekend I was stuck with a loaner phone.

Oh, people, this loaner phone. It wasn't so much the phone as the condition of the phone. It's as if the Sprint people were like, "crap, this woman's phone is DONE and we need to get her something fast. Quick, check the back. Nothing? Seriously? Ok, think. Think. Wait, didn't someone just turn in a phone? Yeah, yeah, yeah, get that one! where is it? Oh here it is, in the trash, right under this banana peel. Brush the coffee grinds off it and I'll get it set up for her."

My sister has this phone because she has an iPad for awesomeness and doesn't need a smart phone.

However, I'm sure her's doesn't include the following:

- A hole in the casing
- A crack in the camera lens
- Half the keypad missing
- A contact list that contains the following names: Jit;  Kevin White Boy; Mikey Crip Walk; Moneek; No Hands; Nu Nu Nu; Toy Shipmate Sis and; Unc Bucket; B Smooth; Back Door; Cuz Boo; Black Ass; Fatboy; Rolemodel Lil Chris; Roo Block; and Spank. (All typed directly from the contact list on my Loaner Phone)


By the way, I guess I didn't mention they had forgotten to erase all the other person's information from the phone? Yeah. That happened. Creepy, huh? 


There was a work number in it and I called it. It was a KFC. Take from that what you will.


The Loaner Phone took on a new life at work Friday. My work friend, who was one work day away from a vacation and was stressed became instantly obsessed with Loaner Phone and we collectively spent the rest of the day inputting the contacts them into the Royal Name Generator. 

Marchioness White Girl Lulu Tcott of Alachuashire.

 

Marchioness Toy Shipmate Ticky Sis Andberton of Gainesvilleshire.

 

Prince Back Fearnsley Doorskitt of Gainesvilleford.

Now, tell me, how can a person be sad about their non-smart Loaner Phone when it provides that kind of entertainment? But I didn't know exactly how entertaining that phone was until I discovered the text messages....


Dun, dun DUUNNNN!! Come back tomorrow for the conclusion to my Loaner Phone saga.

Meanwhile, what do you think the text messages said, based on the contacts list?

Swaddle Me

I don't really like change.

From a new job to moving furniture around in the living room, the idea of change makes me angsty, itchy and irritable. Yes, itchy.

My work friends knew this and helped to make the change from non-Mom to Mom a smooth one. During my pregnancy, a friend at work let me borrow a DVD called Happiest Baby on the Block, where a hippy doctor talked about the five ways to soothe a crying newborn: by swaddling, letting the baby suck on a pacifier, swinging the baby, holding him on his side and making a SHHHH noise (in a calm, soothing way and not an oh-my-God-will-you-please-shut-up kind of way). I was like, OK, right, let me get right on all this baby whispering bull right away. OR NOT.

Turns out, it totally works.

Sometimes my baby's brain just goes haywire. He's all, "I'm tired! I'm awake! I'm hot AND cold and hungry AND full AT THE SAME TIME! Life is so hard and tragic, please someone come rescue me because she's starving me. to. DEATH." and I'm all, "It's 3 am and I hardly think so."  And that's when I pull from my magic baby whisperer bag of tricks the most amazing creation ever. The swaddle blanket. It's a blanket that wraps around and velcros his arms firmly against his sides.  Although sometimes the spirit of Houdini overcomes him and he  wiggles out of it, the blanket normally keeps him snug as a bug. He will fall asleep literally 5 minutes after I wrap him. It's simply amazing.

Basically, my baby hates change, too. He was tucked safe and sound in the most perfect environment EVER, and I forced him out into....this place, where food isn't simply pumped into his stomach and sometimes it gets cold. He's in a constant state of change: hungry to full, in someone's arms to in a crib, dry diaper to wet diaper.

All he needs is that swaddle and he forgets all about it.

A few weeks ago during a team meeting, my boss announced one of our fellow team members was moving to a new department. He's a great guy and we were shocked he was planning to leave. I freaked.

My mind went haywire, just like my baby's does daily.As I was having this little panic attack, the DVD from months ago popped back into my mind.

My boss calmed us down, SHHed us, wrapped us in a virtual swaddle blanket and pushed the paci right into our mouths.  The other team member and I eventually stepped back from the ledge and could think calmly again, but I realized two things: I need to create a grown-up sized velcro swaddle blanket and I can relate to my baby way more than I thought.

What are your go-to calming techniques (for yourself, of course)(also for your baby if you'd like to share)?

Originally posted at Studio30Plus!

More ridiculous work shenanigans: now with more mold!

I figured I began the week with some nonsense, might as well end the week on the same note. I'm using my blog this week as a cleansing ritual to rid my life of bad karma that's been plaguing me this week. It's either that or throw my  phone out the window because WHY ARE YOU NOT CHARGING, YOU'RE PLUGGED INTO THE WALL OUTLET.

I work in an office populated, apparently, by children. Not just children, but teenagers.

These aren't my own coworkers, but rather people from other parts of our building. My coworkers are goofy, but not ridiculous.

I have to presume that most of the teenagers are boys due to the frequent yucky smells I'm forced to experience. For instance, the fridge smells like fish for some unknown reason. Seriously, nobody has brought fish to lunch in recent memory, so the smell is baffling. We thought it was something that had been left in the fridge one day too long if you know what I mean, so a few weeks ago a few of my coworkers and I mercilessly threw  almost everything out. The smell remained, and remains to this day.

Then a few days ago a really nice casserole and rotting dish was removed from another fridge and set on the "for public consumption" table. It's the table where things go to die, like old coupons and brownies that didn't turn out very good. So there's this casserole dish and in it is a half eaten MOLDY casserole. I guess in the most passive aggressive way possible, one person thought they could get someone to clean out that fridge by guilting them to throw out their moldy dish. But the kicker? IT SAT ON THE TABLE FOR OVER 48 HOURS. Our secretary had to send out a building-wide email reprimanding people to keep the kitchen as clean as you would in your own home. Remind me never to accept a dinner invite from the owner of that casserole dish.

But the prize for most immature building dweller has to be the person who got a bag of popcorn from the vending machine, popped it, then realized it was MAYBE two weeks past the expiration date. Now you have to know me. I'll eat something as long as it smells OK because I feel like expiration dates are just general GUIDELINES rather than hard and fast rules. So I would have totally nommed on that popcorn. But this person? Put it in a plastic bag on top of the machine -- a fully popped, unopened bag -- and then put a note on the machine sternly asking for the 60 cents it took to buy the popcorn. Really.

Now vote for your favorite ridiculous story of the week! Is it the Wicked Witch of Plantopia? Dry Erase Board fun? Mold and Popcorn? Go vote at the top right side of the page!

How old do your building dwellers act? Have you ever left moldy food out to rot on a table at work?

Fun with a dry erase board. Fun used in the loosest sense of the word.

There's a small dry erase board in the stairwell of my office. It was originally placed there so different departments within the building could communicate with one another about times they left. I guess once, somebody locked up when someone else was still in the building and they set off the security alarm. So thus, this very high tech *mediocre* solution was formed.

At first someone got clever with it. They drew "leaving at 6:30  pm" in bubble letters. The next day someone drew a sun. Then the next day, someone drew a butterfly. Then someone erased the "leaving at 6:30" and drew a stick person with a net catching the butterfly. Now isn't that precious? Don't you want to walk in on some random Monday morning to see how someone much more cheerful and happy to be alive than you enjoys the medium of dry erase marker art? For crying out loud.

So a couple months passed and now we're taking it to a WHOLE new level. Multiple marker colors are involved. Pithy day of the week slogans. Crafty line art drawings. Approximately 50 people trying to "out wit" one another on a 8.5x11 dry erase board. It's just phenomenal.

I decided to take a week's worth of photos so y'all can see what I live with on the daily:

Oh good. Great. Let's start the week with a rhetorical question. And then later someone took it one step further and wrote "Because something has to link Sunday to Tuesday!"

Please keep in mind that it wasn't sunny that day or for at least 3 days before Tuesday because Florida doesn't do anything half-assed...if it's going to be hot, might as well be 10,000 degrees. If it's going to be rainy, get your ark makin' tools out because it will rain for days on end.

I honestly don't even.....why psycho? Why? What's psycho about it? Why did this person write the N backward?  Why? This sign is a self-fulfilling prophecy because after I read it and tried to make sense of it, I became psychotic. Good call, dry erase board artist.

Yes, Terrestrial Thursday, this makes MUCH more sense. And somebody's breaking out the fancy markers on this one!

I'm just going to go ahead and presume the misspelling of freaky is intentional.

Now that you've seen a week's worth of dry erase board art, maybe you'll get inspired enough to drive your OWN coworkers crazy!

This post has been a part of Word Up, Yo!, a vocabulary meme. Go play along!

Newsflash: It's hot

So guess what, y'all? It's really hot out! Like record breaking hot! Because of that, the media are crawling like cockroaches to my garage to this particular sensational story. I mean I'm sure eventually someone will come up with a new angle for it! OR NOT. Because it's the same old story every single summer. Guess what, people? We live in FLORIDA and it's AUGUST. Heat is hardly newsworthy AT ALL. It seriously burns me up NO PUN INTENDED.

Here's how it goes: media calls, one of us takes it. They say, effervescently, "Hi, it's Amber/Ashley/Jennifer from [insert student radio station or newspaper here] and it's hot out! so we want to do a story about how to stay cool! Is there a doctor who is available to talk to us?" Then we call and bug the emergency department or an emergency medicine doctor; not like they aren't busy enough tending to sick people in emergencies. The emergency people tell us the same old crap that your Mom told you growing up: Stay inside during the hottest hours, drink lots of liquids, use sunscreen,  so on and so forth. I mean it's not brain surgery, people. It's staying cool. There's no science to it.

One of my coworkers got one today and asked who I'd talked to last time. I decided next time I'm going to  tell them I'm the expert and then read, verbatim, from either our online health encyclopedia or WebMD. You know, maybe I'll just take the story from the same publication that was written last year and read it to them. They can quote themselves. Wouldn't that be fun and inventive!?!?!?!?

Or I could say, "why don't you just go ahead and reprint last year's article? Nothing has changed.

Or I could lie completely and say, "you know what, actually, its' amazing you called today because they are releasing this brand new device called the 'personal air-conditioning unit'. It's the latest and greatest. It's a big bubble lined with effervescent liquid that works to cool your body. You can just walk around and do everyday tasks and not worry about the heat! It's genius! What will they think of next!? I'll definitely try and find somebody to talk to you about this!" and then block that number from my phone.

Of course, I'm just kidding. I would never do that, and will keep finding sources for all these perky little students. I dont' want to crush their journalistic dreams too fast.


This post has been a part of Word Up, Yo!, a vocabulary meme. Go play along!

It's been awhile -- wanna hear some work stories?

My team has access to the production studio at work, which is much less impressive than it sounds, although the most wonderful, cool, dark and quiet room you'll ever see in your life. Don't think I haven't thought long and hard about napping there on occasion. Anyway, we do some video editing and podcasting there. Our studio is located within a suite that holds our call center, an impressive 5 employees strong. That's right -- we're so awesome we only need 5 people in our call center. 

I was editing some video yesterday and when I walked out one of our call center employees whispers to me to come over to her desk. She's a really nice lady, a little older, always so happy and positive. We work in the same department but not really with one another, but I knew OF her. So I head over to her desk and have the following conversation:

Her: Let me ask you something. Don't you get mad at me, now. [places her hand on my belly] Are you pregnant?

Me: Yes!

Her: I knew it. You're having a girl, aren't you? [as she continues to rub my belly]

Me: Actually no, a boy. We just found out last week.

Her: That's just so wonderful! [tone change to angry] Did that big tall girl have her baby yet?????

Me: [taken aback] um, well, I don't know. Maybe? 

Two things: my belly is not that big, so touching it at this point is still a little more in my personal space than I care for an almost stranger to be. I mean when the baby gets bigger, maybe. But right now, I'll take my belly untouched, please. Also? I don't know what girl she's talking about. Like no clue whatsoever. It was a strange transaction.

_________________________________________

Our little intern, bless his heart, he's 21 years old. It's just precious. I love 21 year olds because they are still filled with goodness and wonder and positivity. They still think liberal arts is a good, strong choice. They like things such as napping and doing projects and going out to bars. They have time for all that stuff.

I gave him a project to help me with this summer -- taking photos of some nurses for our website. He came in with the photos and he's all, look how they all posed and stuff for me. They were really friendly. Another coworker teased him about giving the girls his number and he said, "naw, they were older." Older. Guess what's older to a 21 year old? TWENTY-FIVE. Yeah, the ripe old age of 25. Over the hill, certainly. I mean after the metabolism starts to slow it's all over. 

We all enjoy our intern.

__________________________________________

Not really work related, but since this blog is turning out pretty random anyway, here goes. In the past two weeks, we've had one almost fatal lightening strike in the area and one not really close to be fatal but still scary anyway alligator attack.

The alligator attack was on a researcher who was snorkeling in a river about 30 minutes south of where I live. The alligator was all, Oh, my food delivery is here NOM. And the guy was apparently big and strong and wrassled him off. The guy got a bite on his neck and some cuts and bruises but was OK and would make a full recovery. The alligator was murdered by the Fish and Wildlife people. Let's be clear here -- if you were in your living room and a some terriyaki chicken wings just sauntered in like they owned the placed, kicked up their drummettes and sat a spell, you'd bite them...right? Same with this gator. Dude was swimming in his house! And I'm sure he smelled delicious.  So whatever, I'm over it now but there was a hot second where I was sitting here with tears in my eyes after I found out the alligator was shot.


These two things together make Florida seem like the most terrifying place on the planet.

How many inches is your personal space bubble? How much do you enjoy interns and/or 21 year olds? Are you scared of Florida?

It's a pager. Jealous much?

I spent Memorial Day weekend as the on-call media rep for work. There are four of us who take turns handling any media that calls after hours and on weekends. Typically during those times, we just say, "sorry wrong number". I mean, we say "sorry, call back during office hours", unless it's a big time emergency or something big going on. I've never had to go in on a weekend (knock on this fake wood that is my desk), but I've conducted some phone interviews and answered calls that come in all hours of the night.

During last fall's Swine Flu Epidemic That Was Going To Kill Us All But Turned Out To Be Not That Bad, I got a call at 3 a.m. from a nurse, who'd gotten a call from a reporter. In the middle of the night. Because nobody has anything better to do, little Miss Go-Getter with your early morning/late night beat. It's OK, I'm here to take your call and tell you we can't give you any information and to call the health department. Now I'll just go back to what I was doing before, which was just waiting for more calls.....OR SLEEPING SOUNDLY.

Such is the life of the on-call people.

I can't complain though. It's a pretty easy gig and those types of calls really happen once in a blue moon. And the best part about the on-call rotation is the super special advanced technology we're given to carry out these duties.

A Blackberry, I bet you're thinking.

Think again, my friend. We take it way back, old school, at my place of employment. We rock pagers.Whose pager keep beepin' and beepin'? Mine does, y'all. It's the sweet sound of business being done.

I love two things specifically about my pager:

• It's numeric only -- no letters up in its grill
• One of the beep options is "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head"

Other awesome things about it:

Incorrect date and time because I don't bother changing the time because the battery dies too often.

No back to hold the battery in because I lost it pretty much the first week I had it.

Miscellaneous scratches and dents. Pager services provided by Verizon. My grandparents call it
"VER-iz-on"..ephasis on the VER.

I know what you guys are thinking. "Amanda," you would say, "You do know smart phones are like, 4 cents these days and can do everything, like park your car and brush your teeth. Yet, you carry a pager? Explain." Well not much to explain -- I mean how can you beat the delicious irony of receiving a page and then returning that call using a smart phone. If I had something more advanced, how could I use my pager to make people uber-jealous? I'd have to figure something else out. I mean this pager really just makes my life easier.

Plus, the pager is the only option.

This weekend we were out buying our new kick-ass camera that I took these pager pics with and "Raindrops" starts a'blarin'. I was all, "oh snap! I've got something important to do." We were checking out using my Best Buy card so Hubby said to the salesguy, "Is it OK if I check out using her card? She has a call to make.....for business." Hellz yeah, for business!

When have you last seen a pager in public? Did you have a pager in middle school? Do you think pagers are making a comeback? Should I have made a graph to go along with this post?

Oh what a day; then I forgot my password

Do you ever have one of those days where you're all, "well this task that should have taken two minutes has now taken 20 minutes of my time"? I like to call these kinds of days Harder Than They Need To Be days. And they SUCKHA.

Our company just changed to a new voicemail system and they have been bugging the living daylights out of us for the past week to delete our old messages and set up our new system. Well joke was on them because I did that after the FIRST email they sent out weeks ago. I still got the email that told me I had unplayed voicemails and I'm like, "What now? There is no red light a'flashin' at me. How can I have a message?" and LO and BEHOLD I checked and there was a message from...wait for it...MAY 12. Oh good, thanks for eating that message, glad it wasn't important. Oh wait, it WAS important.

And also, how creepy is it that they knew I had a message when I didn't even know that?

That was yesterday and then today we get another email to clean out our boxes, already, or it will be deleted and lost into the depths of technology hell where bad messages go to DIE and you will never hear from them again and then everyone will hate you for not responding to the message, and HOW COULD YOU BE SO NEGLIGENT? (I am paraphrasing.) I figured I might as well check one last time, in case some stealth ninja message had crept into my mailbox in the dead of night. there was nothing.

Then I dialed the new voicemail system to see if the stealth ninja message was there. I pressed the numbers *beepbbeepbeep*. It asked for my password. I checked the post-it where I'd written down my new password, a super secret and hard to figure out combination of numbers (12345)(which was the default) and punched that guy right into my keypad.

Then the voicemail lady said, "I'm sorry, that doesnt' seem to be the correct password."

Saywha?? Wrong password, but I wrote it down.

I tried every combination of numbers that I could possibly think of...my anniversary, my birthday, my house number, my old house number, my husband's birthday -- no success. Then I got locked out of my mailbox.

Like Tony the Tiger says...GRRRRREAT! Except I mean it in a sarcastic opposite world way.

I emailed our secretary and she told me to call IS. I called IS and they told me to call Communications. I called Communications and they told me to go die. Just kidding. They told me to go fill out a work order. A WORK. ORDER. For my missing  forgotten password.

Meanwhile, my coworkers are feeling pity and laughing hysterically at my plight in equal amounts.

So I filled out this durn work order, right? The drop down says "Choose the problem" and I chose "Telephone and Telephone Services". I pushed submit. It says I need to fill in the device. Work order, do you mean the device I'm having trouble with? The device that I, not 3 seconds ago, chose as "Telephone and Telephone Services". Right, the device I'm having trouble with is our toaster oven. Definitely the toaster oven. For crying out LOUD.

After I submit the work order I get a call from somebody in IS I believe (and isn't that funny consider that's the first place I called). And he says, AMANDA! What's this about you forgetting your password? and I said, well I just did. And he said, You just set it up! And I said, Um, excuse me, I set it up 3 weeks ago after your FIRST email thankyouverymuch. and PS when you point fingers are people there are 4 others pointing right back at you, so just keep that in mind, IS guy. Let's just get on with this and go back to being productive.

Finally it reset but now I'm pretty sure my phone is out to get me:

What technology gives you the crazies?

Green Beans and Hot Garbage

Since I've been pregnant, bad smells have become almost impossible to live with. What might have been an unpleasant before suddenly smells like a combination of wet dog, garlic, spoiled chicken and feet, or a smell that I have fondly named "hot garbage". My boss thinks it's so funny that it's sort of caught on in the office. Well, I'm glad my sensitive sniffer can bring so much joy.

I also have discovered lots of things smell like green beans, even when no  one is eating green beans. There is someone in my office who is notorious for warming up green beans and catfish in the building's microwave without any regard for how that smell lingers, so at first I just thought it was her. No, it's like the smell of green beans, my least favorite food in the WORLD, is silently stalking me wherever I go. I smell them at home; at work; at restaurants that DON'T' SERVE GREEN BEANS. It's the most bizarre phenomenon ever. And why couldn't it be something good smelling that haunts me? Roses, where are you? Fresh baked cinnamon roll scent, I know you've got to be around here somewhere. Lilac and magnolia I SEE YOU BLOOMING RIGHT OUTSIDE, yet you're not able to overpower the non-existent green beans?

Then yesterday I was walking to my desk and discovered the suite TV was paused on this commercial for TGI Friday's fried green beans:

At first I was all, OK you guys, this is really funny! I totally get this joke, it's because green beans are haunting me, right? Whew, that was a good laugh. But then I walked by 3 hours later and it was STILL ON THE SCREEN.

I walked to the TV to take a picture and said, "Those green beans have been on TV for like 3 hours now and I just had to take a picture because nobody will believe me otherwise." And my friend Kim said, "oh my gosh, I didn't even notice! Sorry! You can turn it off if you want!" and I said, "so what you're saying is that this was unintentional and the TV is ganging up with these mystery green beans to make my life miserable?"

What are the odds? Of all scenes in the plethora of commercials on local tv, it had to be paused on the green bean money shot. Sick.

And in other Austin family news, remember the jug of moldy lemonade that's been on our counter for months? The other day we finally addressed it:

Me: I sure wish I could make some of that grape kool-aid. Problem is, we don't' have a jug big enough.
Hubby: What about the one with the lemons?
Me: Um, it's dirty. Clearly.
Hubby: I've been waiting for you to clean it.
Me: I've been waiting for YOU to clean it!
Hubby: Well I don't know what to tell you.
Me: It's the most epic household chore standoff ever! Guess I won't be getting any grape kool-aid.
Hubby: Guess not.

Then....THEN...a miracle occurred. I was cleaning up the dishes and he puts on his shoes and an old shirt. I asked what he was doing and he said, "I'm going to go clean out that lemonade jug."

Then angels started singing! The best part of this whole thing is that I WON.

What was the last household project standoff that you won? I wanna hear how you celebrated.

Let's take a tour around Amanda's cubicle

My little bloggy blog is going to take a break from basketball madness (although my house is not taking a break, but I'll talk more about that this weekend) because today is a pretty exciting day to me. I'm taking a half day off work because I DESERVE IT DARN IT, and also, I'm the featured blogger on Compulsive Comment Worshipers Anonymous! CCWA is a blog group for those of us who love meeting new bloggers, love commenting and, well, love getting comments.

So hi, new people, thanks for stopping by! It's Blogworthy is completely random. My goal is to find the ridiculousness in life and just make you guys smile by spreading it all over the Internet. To prove how random it is, I'd like to give y'all a little tour through my cubicle at work. I'd like to think that it's a representation of me.

Why don't I start with my new finds. I just got these from a co-worker who was doing a stress cleaning of her own office (she has walls).

What's a Web editor without a pair of dork glasses? Please excuse the free show I'm giving you with that low cut shirt..MERCY. Or if you want, please send money.

We're all looking for ways to improve our blogs and Web sites. I'm holding on to this little gem for a rainy day when I have nothing else to blog about! But here's a little taste of the fab site improvement techniques I'm going to blow your mind with, if it was still 2001.

Then there's my collection of things on my dry erase board ledge. The twin snowmen and gingerbread boy are finger puppets from our department Christmas party White Elephant gift exchange. The penguin is a pin that one of my old co-workers gave me when he left; same with the pig. It's just a tiny little pig. Why the guy had it in his desk I have no clue, but now it's mine all mine. Brain eraser was also a gift from a departing coworker.  Guess I'm just well known for being given strange things when people leave?

Definitely, because here is my pride and joy:

Aren't they amazing? I got these from the same co-worker who gave me 14,000 candy canes (approximately). I sort of want to put them on some really important project that's going in for editing, just to add a little levity to an otherwise boring project, but I'm afraid the person would keep them (who wouldn't keep them?)

So they live here instead:

Are these the happiest little Muppet paperclips you've ever seen? I think so.

By the way, I just got an order in from my bloggy buddy Allyson at Magnolias and Mimosas who has a fab little jewelry shop called Daisy and Elm and let me tell you, the stuff I bought was A-MAZE-ING and I was not paid a blue cent to say that. So why not stop by her place on your way out and see what kind of lovelies you can find for you or your favorite people, hmm?

P.S. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery! Brooke from Building a Kingston Castle has graciously given a tour of her own cubie! And so has Cher from The Only Girl!

The post in which it becomes clear money can't buy brains

Did y'all watch the Super Bowl? Wait, let me get more specific. Did y'all watch the Super Bowl commercials?

Remember this one?






That baby, he's so cute and clever and good with money. And what a player! Milk-a-holic, isn't that adorable, because they are babies, see, they aren't old enough to drink; and it's a derogatory statement towards that little 8-month-old Lindsey baby who is obviously a dirty boyfriend stealer. Calling her a whore would be crossing some sort of line, I think. That's why the ad agency made the choice to call her a milk-a-holic instead.

Genius!

Let's just laugh together for a moment over this super cute ad while E-Trade's ad agency reps roll around naked in piles of money.

Now, what are your thoughts right now? Are you thinking about Lindsey Lohan?


Because Lindsey Lohan thinks you are.

That's right, according to US Weekly, (because where else do you get news?) Lohan is fixin' to sue E-Trade $100 million for using her name in this commercial. The one in which two babies fight over another baby. And one baby happens to be named Lindsey.

From the article:

"Many celebrities are known by one name only, and E-Trade is using that knowledge to profit," Lohan's lawyer, Stephanie Ovadia, said in a statement to the New York Post. "They're using her name as a parody of her life. Why didn't they use the name Susan? This is a subliminal message. Everybody's talking about it and saying it's Lindsay Lohan."

Really? Everybody? And by everybody, does she mean the small sphere of flunkies and paid friends with whom she spends her time?

I find the fact that the lawyer said it was a "parody of her life" more disturbing than the same name aspect. Basically, Lohan is admitting that she's an alcoholic man stealer; that the above commercial reflects her life accurately enough that it would be infringing on her image. Really? Three babies are ruining your image. Enough so that you need $1 million for retribution from, what? Lost income? From the roles you lost because E-Trade was making fun of you? Because this whole, "Lindsey Lohan is an alcoholic slut" angle hasn't already been beaten to death in the media over the past three years. I mean this lawsuit is coming from a person who has been arrested and been in rehab many times. The damage has been done, sister. Lindsey Lohan hasn't worked since 2006, but somehow has found all kinds of cash to buy drugs and booze and life the high life (PUN INTENDED). Wait -- maybe that's why she's suing.

In other news, I just purchased a domain name but I have forgotten everything I know about domains and I can't figure out how to make it go to my blog. So anybody who can help, email me. Please and thank you!

In other, other news, go over to Naked Cupcakes and tell Sarah what she smells like!

In other, other, other news, the Boob Nazi is giving away jewelry in honor of her 1000th post. One thousand posts of pure awesome. You can't beat it. And if you email her and she emails you back, your inbox will have a message from "Boob". Awesome.

In other, other, other, other news, have you heard of Lady Bloggers? It's where I found a crap ton of awesome bloggers. If you are 1) a lady (you don't even have to be *ladylike*, just have lady parts) and 2) a blogger, go over there and apply and tell them I sent you!

In other, other, other, other, other news, I have been at work early enough to park in the lot three days in a row. Threepeat! Badass!

Thank you for liking me

I'm catching up on my blog reading this morning because we were in Orlando Saturday and Sunday. Apparently lots went on this weekend, which OF COURSE IT WOULD. The days when I'm sitting on my duff all weekend, nobody posts a darn thing, yet the 48 hours I'm away from a computer, you people come up with all kinds of great things to say and have a blog-a-thon. Thanks guys. Thanks a lot.

Know what else I want to thank you for? Reading this blog. For real. Every single time I log on to Blogger, I'm truly shocked that there are people in this world who like what I write enough to respond to it. I love you all for it. Every day when I wake up, my goal is to make at least one person laugh. And when I can make that happen through this blog, well, then, mission accomplished.

So I got a couple of awards I'd like to post about. Now a word about awards: I like them a ton, but sometimes don't like all the stipulations that come with it and there is a 95% chance that any award given to me will probably be re-gifted without following the rules. That's just the kind of badass I am.

First, this one is from Amy from Undomestic Army Wife.

I have to write about 6 things I'm a master at and give this to 6 people who are masters at friendship. EASY.

1. I am the master of typing. I type 100 WPM. I am trying to get my coworker to have a type-off with me but she's too scared.
2. I'm a master at procrastination, which is evidenced by the baskets of clean and dirty laundry sitting in my living room.
3. I am the master of naming animals after food. We have cats named Cheeto, Pepper, Praline and Sushi. And a dog named Truffles.
4. I am the master at navigating our Web site at work; I can find things on it when nobody else can.
5. I am the master of not eating the fruit that I buy and instead, forgetting about it and letting it rot.
6. I am the master of eating those chocolate covered after dinner mints they give you at fancy restaurants. I won that contest at work because we had a whole box of them we needed to get rid of. It was epic.


I'm choosing the masters of friendship for people who have supported my blog with lots of comments and love.

•  Making Stuff is Fun
• Reality Faker
• My Husband's Watching TV  
• Naked Cupcakes
• Nobody Listens to the Girl 
• itsybitsyknitsy

Go visit all of these blogs because they are some of my favorite "must reads". And I guess I did follow the rules on this one, but for others, you've been warned.

Whew, all that blog awarding made me so sleepy. Maybe later I'll have the energy to blog about our trip to Disney this weekend and how I'm now pretty much a celebrity, and also Econo Lodge is probably out to get me (doesn't all that sound fun?)

Meet my mortal enemy, the fax machine

I just waged an epic battle of technological will against the fax machine.

Someone emailed me and asked if I could edit a document and then -- wait for it -- FAX IT BACK TO THEM.

I just stared at the screen, gobsmacked. I felt my anxiety rise.  Fax? She's asking me to fax? But I...I mean wouldn't it be easier to.....oh crap.

I have a real vendetta against fax machines. They consistently go out of their way to make me look and feel like an idiot. I'd rather scan and email. Isn't that what sophisticated, tech savvy people do? Why are we still faxing in this day and age? There are smart phones out there that can pick out your clothes and fix you dinner, yet fax machines still exist.

Have you ever recieved a fax that is legible? I certainly haven't. The letters are always squished or part of it is cut off. And then there's the redundancy of  faxing a document, then emailing to make sure the fax-ee got all the pages. And they NEVER get all the pages. And then there's the fax, sign, and fax back and by this time might as well get out your microscope because who can read the fax of a fax. Nobody, that's who.

I mean, we might as well be drawing hieroglyphics on cave walls. Faxing. Pshhht.

I sent my first fax, no joke, in 2005 during my first job at selling ads at a local newspaper. I secretly wished every day that I was important enough to have a secretary who could fax my contracts to vendors. Faxes were a big deal at the newspaper, but people always took your fax off the machine if you weren't fast enough to grab it right away. It was always out of ink or paper. ALWAYS. What a waste of my time.

Then the second job I had I was spared from ever having to fax a document because it was a mom-and-pop design firm lacking not only a fax machine, but also a phone system. It was great.

And now I'm here and we fax, but very infrequently.

Fax machines make me feel stupid because I don't really know how they work. It's like the missing link of the technology world. It's bridging phones and the internet. I don't know how faxes work. I only presume someting like this:

 

You know what I do for a living? Web communications. I sit at a computer all day reading code, and that makes perfect sense to me, yet when it comes to fax machines, I'm all "What are you talking about, the world is round? Sure looks flat to me!" It's like fax machines make me regress to ye olden days before communication existed. They make me want to grunt and hit someone with a club.  

Here's how faxing goes for me:

1. Find the "Fax Cover Sheet Wizard" on Microsoft Word

2. File through my cabinets to find a biz card with my own fax number on it

3. Print off the fax cover sheet

4. Stand in front of the fax machine for 5 minutes trying to figure out which way the paper should be inserted

5. Spend another 5 minutes trying to recall if I need to dial 9 for an outside number

6. Dial the fax

7. Transpose some numbers and ask the staff assistant where the "clear" button is

8. Spend another 3 minutes finding the "send" button

9. Wait for the fax to go connect

10. Continue waiting

11. Discover the fax wasn't sent correctly

12. Repeat

The process is terrifying. I can count the number of times I successfully faxed something on the first attempt on ONE HAND. There must be a limited amount of storage in my brain, so after each fax my brain goes "I can't imagine we'll have to do THAT again!" and just purges all that useless fax information. Because my brain is advanced.

Watch out, fax machine, I will stab you in your sleep.

P.S. This was written mainly so my sister has something to read while she's at work. You're welcome, Sister!

What are they teaching in medical school these days?

Continuing on my series of medical related posts this week, I'd like to tell you all about the conversation I had with a resident today who was calling our department asking about patient photography.

The media team had a meeting the other day about how we're going to handle non-media requests. We get them occasionally from doctors or other employees who just have basic questions. The media director made us a little fact sheet telling us exactly what our department is responsible for, where to refer them and what forms they will need.

Dr. Dbag: Hi, I'm a surgical resident. I'd like to take a picture of a patient for a case study.
Me: Ok, well let me grab my handy little fact sheet tell you our policy. We don't' handle photos used for education. You don't' need written authorization as long as the patient has signed Consent form #09809234809234890.
Dr. D: What's that?
Me: It's a consent form. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but Legal Services will be happy to explain it. I just don't know because we don't usually handle this type of request.
Dr. D: It's ok. Where can I find that form?
Me: Let me check for you on our intranet. Because I don't have it on hand. Because we don't typically handle these types of requests. [ checks ] Hm, I can't seem to find it. You can call Legal Services and see where it is.
Dr. D: [ silence ]
Me: Or I will call them and call you back, how about it? Can you give me your phone number?
Dr. D: Actually, let me give you my PAGER so you can PAGE me back.

So I called legal services, who told me where to find the form, but that all patients are asked to sign the form before surgery if they do, in fact, give their consent. I thought, score, problem solved. I paged Dr. Dbag right back.

Me: I found out from Legal that your patient should have signed the form before he/she went into surgery. You can find it in his/her chart.
Dr. D: What if it's not on his/her chart?
Me: Well. [pause] it should be. Like it's supposed to be; its' part of the paperwork they fill out before a surgery. If it's not, there is a problem.
Dr. D: What if he/she doesn't' have a chart? He/She was admitted from a clinic.
Me: So he/she's going to have surgery shortly....? If so, she can sign it before he/she goes in.
Dr. D: He/she already had surgery.
Me: Wait. What? So what are you photographing?
Dr. D:  His/her incision site.
Me: Did he/she have surgery at our hospital?
Dr. D: Yes.
Me: That form should be a part of the medical record, then.
Dr. D: Where do I find that?
Me: I'm non-clinical, I really am not sure. I would maybe suggest asking the charge nurse on the floor. It has to be attached to the medical record somehow.
Dr. D:  You mean I can find it online?
Me: Well. [pause because I'm thinking, really? am I seriously still on this call?] I don't think it's readily accessible online. Ask the charge nurse and she will be able to give it to you.
Dr. D: Well, what if it's not in the files.
Me: You know who could answer that question better than me? The charge nurse. And if it's not in the files, I'm sure the charge nurse would be able to find the form for you.
Dr. D: It's just that....this seems very vague. What exactly do I need to fill out to take these pictures?
Me: [ headexplosion ]

THEN he asked if we have a camera to use, like what part of "this isn't our responsiblity" don't you understand? And isn't doctoring 101 "how to find a chart"? And this was a resident! Not even a full fledged doctor!

I can't wait till the new media person starts.

Parking, Payton and my sister (alliteration isn't my thing, OK?)

This blog  will feature three things that probably don't warrant their own blogs, but are each blogworthy in their own right. I'm terrible at transitions so bear with me.
I've talked before about our new parking garage (and in case anyone is wondering, the garage walking thing happened for aabboouuut a week before I got tired of it). Here's some background: the surface lot next to the building has only enough spaces for half the building at a time. We used to park there on an even/odd schedule (so, I would park there every even day and across the street on odd days). Since the garage opened and the even/odd restrictions were lifted, it's been a free or all on the surface lot.

The garage holds people from the hospital that's next to our building AND all of our employees (except the ones who  park in the surface lot because they get here at buttcrack-of-dawn o'clock every morning). So if you get here after the hospital early shift starts (7 a.m.) you're forced to park 4th floor or above. Now everybody knows I'm a lazy person and walking up and down 4 flights of stairs every morning isn't my cup of tea. I truly dread that freaking garage. Sometimes I'll drive through the surface lot and see what's available if I get in early enough, but there is NEVER a spot.

Except for Tuesday.

I thought I was out of luck until I drove around. Lo and behold, there was one single space left. The Heavens opened and Angels began singing, God said, "Here you go, my child, I love you so much that I've given you this parking space", and golden light shone right on the parking space. I raced around to the other side to get it.

And this is what I found:

Tell me what kind of tiny-ass car can fit in a spot like that? tell me? Does it look like I'm driving a SmartCar or a Mini or a scooter? NO. I'm driving a full size car and that great big SUV is ruining my day! It would kill that person to just pull up a little bit? Mercy!

I need to get  to get to the next topic. Hmm....

How about a picture of my cat?

Hello. My name is Sushi.

Ain't he cute? He likes to watch basketball by standing right in front of the screen.

Speaking of sports (YES! TRANSITIONS!), the Superbowl is coming up! It's called that because it's "super" that football will not be on again until August! I am really torn as to who I'm going to "vote" for. Colts or Saints? Here's a list I wrote to help me decide.

Why the Saints Should Win

• Because New Orleans suffered a terrible tragedy a few years ago and for awhile there was talk that the city wouldn't even HAVE a team, but then they rebuilt and did awesome one year and now it's a few years later and they are the poster-children for Overcoming Adversity, so cheering for the Saints is pretty much the same as cheering for America
• Reggie Bush is dating Kim Kardashian and her show is unintentionally  hilarious and awesome
• The following is my favorite commercial on ESPN:
 

And I just love it when he goes "Drew BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!" For awhile I had no idea what that meant, I just liked how he said it, until Hubby explained the whole commercial to me and told me Drew BREEEEEEEEEEES plays on the Saints. So there's that. 

But then Hubby reminded me that Payton Manning plays on the Colts and that he also stars in some really amazing commercials like this one:



And this one too:



And also?



I mean, it's really a difficult decision. Which commercial is more legendary? Taking that into consideration, here is my other list:


Why the Colts Should Win

• Payton Manning is in awesome commercials with Justin Timberlake, and my love for NSYNC is true and undying even though they are broken up ALTHOUGH I'm pretty sure they never announced it; So yeah, Payton Manning is almost like a member of NSYNC. 

Sorry, that trumps Kim Kardashian any day.

So, Go Colts!

Know who else hates football and loves NSYNC?  My sister. (These transitions are on FI-YAH today!)

My sister is awesome, witty and hilarious. AND my BFF. AND I think she's doing the blogsphere a disservice by NOT having a blog to entertain the world (or, more specifically, to entertain me, which she's been doing her whole life and for which I'm forever grateful). The only problem is, she's stuck on finding a good name for her blog.

So, I need some suggestions to help her get the ball rolling. Here are some facts about her:

• she is beautiful
• she has redish/strawberry blonde hair
• she is super smart
• she is an accountant who works for a media company and gets me amazing free or discounted merch all the time
• she just got married last June
• she loves Disney
• she has a nice house
• she will probably comment on this and add more

Any ideas for her blog name?

I don't have a door on my office, so I use these pictures instead

I work in a cube farm. It's not bad because the walls are tall enough that I cant' see anybody when I'm sitting down. However, I sit in the back corner cube and see everyone that walks around the corner.

Here is what our layout is like. I designed this with my rockin' Photoshop skills.

For almost two years, I had my computer situated to where people could see exactly what I was doing as they walked by -- not cool. Another problem is that I really like to talk to my coworkers and they know that, so there would be times when people would just pop on over and I'd say, "sit down and chat a spell!" and pour them a glass of lemonade or sweet tea, and we'd rock on our rockers and next thing you know, 45 minutes have gone by and I'd have to rush and finish something.

So I re-arranged my cubicle so I'm facing the opening, but it didn't change the fact that I'm just too darn chatty and nice. When my cubicle neighbor left, he bequeathed me some pretty kick-ass laminated signs with 1990's stock photography that used to be on some client display. He thought I could hold them up when I was busy, in a meeting, or wanted to chat. Basically, they were my Moody Moose Buttons (a candy cane for the person who actually gets that reference).

I took it one step farther by adding post it notes, for those who can't read non-verbal signals in stock photography.

"I'm on my old school corded touch-tone phone and ready to talk for hours!" 

I put this one up when I'm working, but can be interrupted for a little casual conversation, gossip or shenanigans.

"I'm telecommuting! Webinars haven't been invented yet! Like my perm?"

Who likes to attend webinars and has two thumbs? This girl! *points at self* And sometimes people don't realize that I'm in a meeting while sitting at my desk. IS just authorized us to use Skype here last week so.....TECHNOLOGY!

"Let's study!" "Let's go to $5 dollars all-you-can-drink at Rum Jungle!"

This is the poster I use most often. Amazingly enough, it works. I've had lots of people say to me, "Oh, sorry, should I come back?" and a few say "I'm ignoring your sign because I'm way too important for this nonsense."

And last but not least...

"I will cut you."

Luckily (for them or me, I'm not sure yet), I don't have to pull this bad boy out very much. But you know, there are just days where you don't want to be bothered, and what conveys that better than "brooding teenage girl"? I'd know, I used to be one.

So there y'all go, my own system for cubicle working. Anybody have a good cubicle stories?

If watching brain surgery isn't blogworthy, I don't know what is

I had to decide this morning which topic I'd blog about first: how my husband lost a jar of peanut butter or my story about how I watched a brain surgery for two hours. Brain surgery wins. For today; y'all will have something to look forward to tomorrow.

My day job is a web editor for a health system. I'm also pitching in with handling media calls when they come in, like requests for photography or interviews, etc. until they hire a new media person. So Tuesday, one of my co-workers (also pitching in) asked me to escort a photographer during a surgery. Uncharacteristically, I said yes immediately. I'd like to think it was was Lady Luck and her good friend Fate that made me say yes. They wanted me to see someone's brain, I guess.

This escort was the first time I had been in a surgical suite while I was awake and not under anesthesia. I met the photographer, we put on our gauzy jumpsuits (which are called bunny suits -- when my coworker told me to ask for bunny suits, I had to make sure he wasn't trying to make me look foolish, but that's their for real name), our little gauzy hats and gauzy booties and walked to the suite. I'm like, cool, what kind of surgery and then I see a big 'ol brain up on the screen. OK, cool, you guys, I'm witnessing brain surgery.

It was a very specific type of brain surgery called Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS), used to treat lots of things, including several types of movement disorders (just call me "the Science Channel" if you want). It starts out while the person is asleep, then they drill a hole in their skull and open that sucker right up. Then, the neurologist sticks lots of electrodes into the brain to find the right spot to stimulate. Actually, lots might be stretching the truth a little. I don't know, everything I know about DBS I learned from Wikipedia, so it may not be accurate at all.

Here is how I explained it to Hubby:

Me: So, they open up the person's skull, and then they stick these big long things in, they are electrical things, and then it makes all this crackling noise, and do you know what that noise is? YOUR BRAIN. It's like, those things that connect in your brain? What are they called?* You know...
Hubby: I'm not sure I do...
Me: Ok, well anyway, the things that fire and make your brain work. Not real fire, like electrical signals. That's how your brain works. IT'S HAPPENING IN YOUR BRAIN RIGHT NOW!!! AND I GOT TO HEAR IT ON A COMPUTER!!!
Hubby: But, how was it on a computer?
Me: Oh yeah. Well the neurologist puts these electrical things...what would I call them? Like electrodes. He puts them on the patient's brain and the electrode is connected to this computer -- a regular computer! -- and it comes across as sound. And then they listen for certain sounds that the brain cells make and those brain cells are the ones that are giving the patient trouble, so those are the ones they stttiimmuullatttee.
Hubby: They can't do an MRI or something to find the bad cells?
Me: NO, it doesn't work that way.
Hubby: Why?
Me: Because it doesn't. Anyway, then they put this other electrode on the bad cell part and send electrical currents through it, and the patient has to be awake for this part. CAN YOU IMAGINE BEING AWAKE WHEN YOUR SKULL IS OPEN?
Hubby: Sure can't.
Me: ANYWAY. They have to be awake so that when the neurologist stttiimmuullatttees those cells, he can ask the patient what she's feeling. Like, once he asked if she saw wavy lines. Why would she be seeing wavy lines, I wonder?
Hubby: Why are you saying stimulate like that?
Me: I don't know. It's like I can't say it any other way. Stttiimmuullatttee.
Hubby: Was there much blood?
Me: Not much, THANK GOD!

I'm sure I left him with more questions than answers.

I think the most remarkable thing about the experience was how chilled out the surgeons were. You know how on TV, the surgeons are always just joking and talking and listening to music? All of that is true. I had no idea. But you know, they do this every day of their lives. Of course it's old hat to them. It's like someone who doesn't know Web coding watching me work, and they are like, OH MY GOD, I can't believe all these random letters, numbers and symbols, how do you make sense of it all and still listen to music!?!?

Ok, that's not the same as brain surgery at all.

It was still freakin' awesome. I love my job.

What would YOU call 30 pianos on one stage?

I took piano lessons for about 7 years in middle school and high school. I don't want to say I hated it, because I truly didn't. It was fun learning how to play, especially at Christmas or to be a showoff or whatever. My piano teacher was nice. She was the organist at our church and was very intelligent, musically. My sister and I had back-to-back lessons at her house after school once a week. Mom drove us until I was 16, and once I started driving, were always late. We would say things like, "oh, traffic was really tied up, I'm surprised we actually got here at all!" which would be a decent excuse if we didn't live, like, 4 blocks away.

I never practiced. Ever. Ohh, how I hated practicing. I would get to my lesson and not be able to play without screwing up the notes and then say, "Hm, this is SO weird, I just practiced this before I left and played it perfectly! Are you sure there isn't something wrong with your piano? The keyboard feels weird. New bench? The light is so dim in here. Or too bright. And did you turn the heat on? I think the change in atmosphere just  threw me off. Why don't you get this all straightened out and we'll try again next week, ok?"

Every year, the music department or music teachers group or whoever it was, organized this big recital. All the piano teachers in the city gave their students two or three songs to learn. Most of them were duets; in total, there were maybe 15 songs. Then we would meet in an auditorium where they set up 30 grand pianos on the stage, and we all got up there and played the songs we learned in unison, there was a conductor and everything. What I'm talking about here is 60 kids playing the same song on 30 different pianos AT THE SAME TIME.Did I just blow your mind? It gets better.

The name of this magical musical extravaganza? PIANO-RAMA, Y'ALL.

I just told that story at work and they were all, really? Where was this? and I said, Huntington, WV, of course, the most awesome place in the world for unison piano playing, DUH.

What is the point of 30 pianos at once? Answer: to use the phrase Piano-Rama.

P.S. I just searched for Piano-rama on Google Images and this is what came up:

What?

If this doesn't give you the creeps, I don't know what will.

Christmas is over. Now, what to do with these candy canes?

You guys? I have 47 candy canes on my desk.

I'm terrible at picture taking. I cut out one of the stacks of 10.

 

They are a hand-me-down "gift" from my coworker who probably also didn't know what to do with them either. "Merry Christmas", he said. Even though it was after Christmas...last time I'll fall for that.

What am I going to do with 47 candy canes?

I just ate one, now it's 46.

My other coworker asked for one, so we're down to 45.

Again, what am I going to do with 45 candy canes? I thought that I might make a cute little bundle of candy canes for the new interns. I'm sure they will appreciate that. My friend told me that it's good luck to put them on your curtain rods during the year, and Lord knows I need good luck; I can get rid of a couple of them that way.

I think I'll place them in random places around the office and see who notices. Or, maybe I'll leave them there ALL YEAR LONG and see what happens. It'll be like art.

I truly think that the same candy canes are sold year to year. How can you tell that a candy cane is fresh? Do they go stale? Is there an expiration date for candy canes? Hubby and I buy them every year and yet never finish the ones we have. In fact, I have a few at home right now that will never be eaten. I can't bring myself to throw them away. It just seems wasteful.

Any ideas, folks? The person with the best idea wins a prize candy cane.

North Florida: It's a lot like WV

There are a bunch of  little country towns in North Florida. My coworkers were discussing things we could mention, wear or participate in to make the residents of this little town open up to us. My cubicle neighbor asked me if I cared to add my two cents, but unfortunately, I blacked out for a second from the boredom of a short holiday week, and he said, "that's a first" because I'm a chronic eavesdropper.

Anyway, he wanted my opinion because as he accurately guessed, a small town in West Virginia is a lot like a small down in north Florida.

Finally, a project today I can sink my teeth into.

Here is the list. If you're from a small town, please add your own suggestions in the comments:

• Aqua Net
• Deer Jerky
• Four-Wheeling or "muddin'"
• Corona/rebel flag bikins or bandannas
• Shoney's
• Cracker Barrell
• Golden Corral 
• Cowbells
• Tractor supply stores
• Collectible plates
• Tailgating
• Golf carts
• huntin', fishin' and the like
• leaving G's off the ends of words
• ""Jr" and #3
• Nascar
• Big hair
• Mullets
• Walmart
• Ford Trucks
• boatin'
• flannel
• tuxedo and "bikini body" t-shirts, or any other items you can buy at beach stores in Myrtle Beach (for West Virginians) or Panama City Beach (for Floridians)
• airbrushed anything
• flea markets
• Gator tail (Floridians only)
• Nati Light (this one's universal) or Boone's Farm (also applies to poor people and college students)
• dressing their babies in nothing but a diaper and a smile
• high school football
• big antennas and satellite dishes
• taxidermy
• big dogs/pitbulls
• bonfires
• wranglers

This list was compiled on post-it notes.

UPDATE:

Add buggies (instead of grocery carts) and firearms (can't believe I forgot that one).

And you guys? More proof: Officials  found a moonshine still and a meth lab in a Bradford County home.  Replace "Bradford" with "Wayne" and it's basically interchangeable.