Downside of Facebook

…folks at Facebook apparently have no real impetus to correct the issue…

Crime Stories

It’s been a very long time since I’ve been a crime victim (back in the 80s–assault, burglary, attempted burglary), but suddenly this autumn I’ve been lined up by evildoers twice.

An Ad with Unexpected Attachment

I just saw an ad for the Chevrolet Traverse that deeply disturbed me. I know it won’t disturb many people. But I know it will bother some. It may make some cry. It came very close to making me cry.

The ad features a downpour of shoes. What could possibly be upsetting about that?

After 9/11, a friend of mine went with his friend to the friend’s company, a paper supplier that had offices across from the World Trade Center. The paper guy had been given the opportunity to go to his offices for just a few hours to remove company records. My friend went with him.

When they got into the offices, the windows were all broken out, and the offices were covered in the fine gray dust we all remember from the collapse of the towers. And in the dust, on the windowsills and on the desks, and on the floor were shoes. Dust and shoes were all that was left of the towers.

So I suppose that now, every time I see a Chevy Traverse, I’ll think of the shoes in the paper company office. All that was left of the victims of 9/11. Probably not what Chevy was going for.

Donor’s Choose

There’s a wonderful blogger out there, Sars of Tomato Nation, who has been doing the Donor’s Choose blogger’s challenge for a number of years. I’ve seen her with a shaved head. And I’ve seen the very cute video of her dancing in a tomato costume at Rockefeller Center. And why would she do that? She does it because her great big heart makes her promise her readers amusing stunts in return for generosity. And it works. Imagine if you could ask you friends to donate to charity and it resulted in more than $100,000 going to classrooms across America.

Well, she does, and it does.

So, join her (and me) by going to Donor’s Choose and help Sars justify a trip to the White House, as a tomato.

Musings on a Vacation in the English Countryside (Part 1)

Last week I traveled to visit friends who’ve moved to a village in the English countryside. My past visits to them in London have been amazing, but this was a new experience, remote from the hub of the Metro, an easy walk only to the children’s school and their church. It turned out to be one of my best vacations ever. I plan to tell you about my experiences in stages, maybe even chronologically.

I am not at all good at flying on a redeye. I’m better on a long trip if I can sit and read. And, unfortunately, overnight flights have such low light that I can’t, even with a reading light, tolerate reading for any length of time. But this time I was determined.

Restroom Etiquette for the Modern Girl

Just back from vacation and was reminded yet again about how stupid women’s behaviors in public restrooms are. So here are some hints for your future visits to the loo.

TMI

How stupid could Larry Mendte be? After pleading guilty to hacking into coworker Alicia Lane’s email, you’d think he’d be smart enough, or have a PR hack on his team who is smart enough to advise him, to go into seclusion for a while.

Instead, he holds a press conference later in the day to explain that he had an emotional (although apparently not physical) affair with Lane, cut the ties when his wife found out, and Lane retaliated, which led to his invasion of her privacy. So instead of being kryptonite in large markets for a while, but eventually employable, he (who has already accused one former employer of age discrimination, if I recall correctly) comes off as a complete loose cannon who’s unemployable. And I’d think his wife wouldn’t be too thrilled with him either.

Can this career or marriage be saved. Stay tuned for the carnage.

That’s My Name

For much of my life, I’ve gone by a nickname. Through my teens I was “Silky” for obscure reasons I don’t even remember. But it had something to do with the famous horse, Silky Sullivan, and something to do with my older brother being called Silky when he was a pretty good young pitcher. But mostly it had to do with me not wanting to be called “Deb” or “Debbie.” I hated it. I still hate it.

The Internet Is Full of Entertainment

Having tried to spend a day mostly off the nets, I finally gave in after weeks worth of Sports Illustrated reading (my dad gave me a subscription). I really can’t have periodicals delivered. I’m too obsessive compulsive. If they come, I feel like I have to read them, and I don’t have that much time, so they end up filling a space in my to be read pile right next to the really old Harlequin Regencies. But today, I did make it through three SIs, two Temple University Alumni Mags, and a PennStater.

But now, I’m back on line, and through a rather convoluted series of events (searching for something to watch on television, finding “The Real Estate Pros” and the main man Richard helping out a couple of years ago in the rehabilitation of a guy named Josh Hamilton who just happens to have won the Home Run Contest at last week’s All Star Game, looking to see if I could find anything about the relationship on the net) I found this really fun site: It’s Lovely! I’ll Take It!

I love looking at property on line (mostly focusing on cute little mews houses in London). But I must admit I’ve never seen anything quite so amusing on real estate sites as these dreadful examples of the way the marketing challenged have of presenting their houses. It’s no wonder homes are losing value out there people!

Draw a Line!

The Rite Aid near my office has decided that there’s only one line. They don’t tell you that. There’s no sign, no stanchion, no line on the floor. Apparently some old ladies decided one day that there should be only one line, instead of a line for each register, and the manager, having the backbone one might expect, decided, okey dokey, that’s a great idea. But he also has the brains one might expect so he did absolutely nothing to make it obvios there is one line and give customers some idea where to stand in order to be in that line.

The result is that people kind of hang around not knowing quite where to stand and what to do and wait for the cashier to say, “Next.” Only no one really knows who is next. I’ll have to start going to the one a block farther away. Because this just doesn’t work.