the Diva Platform

Sheesh.  It’s late Thursday night, and I haven’t written today’s blog yet.  I’d planned on writing about the Strong Life Test–it’s a new self-help book I received from a PR person because of my Oprah blog (which hasn’t been updated in probably over a year, but that’s apparently neither here nor there).  You can take the test here, if you want to start building a stronger you.

However, even after attending a webinar with the author this week, I haven’t quite decided how I want to write about this book/website.  Plus, I’m not done with the book, and I should try to give it a fair shake.  My sticking point?  You read this basic self-help style that’s based on this test you need to take….but the test is only online.  You get your results for the test, and you have to go back to the book to find out what they mean.

This bugged me.  I’d been reading the book in bed, and all of a sudden, to go any further, I had to get online.  Needless to say, I stopped reading the book (especially when the results of the test–even after taking it several times–don’t seem to jive with the type of person I am).  I haven’t decided whether or not to finish it.

I asked the author in the webinar why he decided to have the test online, and it’s apparently all about sharing (and it is too–if you went to take the test, most of the screen is “share your results on various social networking sites.”  It took me quite a few seconds to figure out where the heck the test was….and it basically looks like a banner ad for the book, which is why I discounted it at first).  People today like to share stuff, so you’d share the test with your friends, and if you felt like knowing more about what a “motivator” or a “creator” was, hopefully you’d buy the book.  I’m slightly regretting not telling him my experience and saying how bogus that was.  But apparently he’s trying to figure out a way to sell a book, and this is probably better than nothing.

At any rate, it looks like I talked about what I’d planned on discussing anyway.  To some extent, that is.

Last Friday after derby practice, I was taking the bus home with a couple of the other officials.  They were busy texting, and one texted, “LOL I’m not really laughing out loud,” meaning that he thought the sender’s text was funny, but he wasn’t physically laughing.  Since he wasn’t laughing, why would he write he was Laughing Out Loud?

He showed me his reply and explained that he always wrote that.  I took a look and said, “Oh, you could say INRLOL.  Like you’re laughing out loud on the inside–an inner LOL, get it?”

He loved it.  I was proud.  I think we’ve got us some new geek speak, no?

I mean, you are INRLOL now, right?

I subscribe to a zillion marketing e-mails.  I don’t read most of them, but I like getting them just to keep a pulse on what’s happening (e.g.–gladiator sandals).  I actually read one I got from Cover Girl:  Perform on Queen Latifah’s national tour.  Wow!  That’d be an opportunity!

Of course, I immediately read it as “be a back-up singer on Queen Latifah’s tour,” which is really my own desire to be a back-up singer reading into things.  No, this is a contest where an amateur female (age 13+) singer or rapper could win the opportunity to be the opening act for one of her shows on the Queen Latifah Persona tour.

Even though I don’t qualify, this is still a cool opportunity.  Why don’t I qualify?  I mean, I’ve been in the chorus for a bunch of community theater shows.  I can harmonize.  I don’t murder the hymns in church.  But the e-mail ad specifically calls “all rappers and singers with skills.”  With skills!  Like original song skills, which I don’t have (and don’t really intend on acquiring).  I’ll just stick to my little back-up singer dream and hope it happens someday.

I still love the “with skills” bit though.  Can’t you imagine the meeting where this idea came up?  ”Barbara, will you be in charge of the initial screening of the entrants?”

“You better put something in there about them actually being able to sing because my office is not ‘American Idol,’ and I don’t want to sit through a million girls who think they can sing.  Hell no!”

“Sure, Barb, we’ll do that.  They’ll totally read the rules.  You won’t get a bunch of out-of-tune Mariah Carey wannabes!”

I’d love to know how that played out, and how many amazing entrants there are verses how many lousy entrants pour in.

If you’d like to enter–because I know some of my readers probably have that dream.  Don’t you?  I don’t want to hold you back (I’ll even help you with the essay portion, if you’d like)–here’s the full details.  Note in the official rules that minors need parental consent, and that the definition of a minor is not the same in every state–although it’s 18 for most of the country, it’s 19 in Alabama and Nebraska, and a whopping 21 years old in Mississippi.  Contest ends 11/7/09, so get on it!

My credit card number got stolen again.  The first time was a couple of years ago, and we’re pretty sure a pizza delivery guy grabbed my number when he took a rubbing of my card.  I noticed some unusual charges on my account, and they got taken care of pretty quickly.  A bit of legwork on my end, but it turned out all right.

On Saturday, I got a call from Citicard’s fraud department saying there’d be an attempt to charge over $2000 on my card, and it didn’t look legit.  You bet it wasn’t!  The interesting thing was that the number was actually on a card that was swiped at an Apple store in Missouri.  I had the card on me (had even used it on Friday), so that means someone must’ve gotten my number and made their own credit card.

Crafty criminals.

Well, the thieves didn’t get their computer equipment, and now I don’t have a Citibank card–at least for a couple of days.  I do have to go through the hassle of closing the one account and getting a new one.  I have to get all of my credit reports (though that’s probably wise to do anyway–it’s been a while), and I have to go to the businesses that automatically bill my card for various services and give them a new number.  That last bit is a little more of a pain, but I have to do it–I actually don’t mind all that much because Citibank was so proactive about the situation and were really great about taking care of it immediately.  I appreciated that kind of service (and I’m sure their fraud department has an insane workload, so I’m glad they’re looking out for me).

The Boy and I were talking about this, and we figured that the theft didn’t happen because of something I did.  My number may have been part of a security breach, like the one Heartland (a payment processor) experienced late last year.

I’m now resigned to the fact that my credit card number will probably be stolen a few more times in my life.  Funny thing is that I’d just started using my card a little more for some purchases, and now I’m back on the cash wagon, where I’ll try to stay as much as possible.

The Boy just finished reading The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell.  It’s on my list–I should’ve read it a long time ago when it first came out because it was a bit hit at the Firm and the library kept ordering it for people. We in the library would poke through it a little before passing it on to the requestor, but I never got around to reading it.

Anyway, he loved it.  Loved Malcolm Gladwell’s thinking.  Now he wants to meet him.  Gladwell’s the “type of guy I’d like to have lunch with,” he told me on Saturday.

Then he followed up with, “We’ve got to do cool things so we can meet cool people.”

Really?  We do some pretty cool things already.  These activities just don’t swing us in the circles that say, a Malcolm Gladwell would run.  I mean, to my knowledge, Gladwell doesn’t have a roller derby name.  That’s how my circles roll.  Still, wow would we get to those different circles?  I have no idea.

Gladwell recently did an interview with Time that was pretty interesting, and he said that he’s had millions of lucky breaks, so it’s not impossible that we could one day, say, have his number and be able to meet him for lunch.  That would just require a few lucky breaks, though. That’s all.  Or maybe if you have another idea, you could let me know.

The Boy and I, like many of you, have a household budget that’s shrunk dramatically in the last couple of years, due to my career change and his lack of permanent work.  Therefore, we’ve had to really watch how we spend our money.

It’s funny, back when I worked at the Firm, we did a book about the “trading up” phenomenon, where people spend more in certain categories.  The concept included the fact that the middle class had significantly more money and would always be trading up….until the second book “Treasure Hunt,” came out, which showed how people managed their pennies and maximized them as much as possible.  The penny pinching book did come out a little while before the recession hit, but I think the two are an interesting set because with the second, this trading up/trading down philosophy really takes hold.  Basically, in order for most middle class people to trade up, they have to trade down somewhere. And when they lose a significant chunk of income, the trading down happens a lot more.

However, I think that even though times are tough for us, we aren’t trading down for everything.  At least, not in a way I imagined.  Sure, we don’t go out nearly as often as we used to, and our wardrobes aren’t going to get replenished as much as maybe they should.  Yet, there are some things I’ve chosen not to skimp on.  Those would include:

• beer/liquor - Again, we’re not buying booze nearly as often as we used to, but on the rare occasions we do get beer, it’s microbrew.  Liquor has to be a brand we enjoy–otherwise it’s not worth drinking.
• toilet paper - I’ll get Angel Soft (a cheaper brand), but I won’t go to one-ply.
• toothbrushes - I had to replace my toothbrush, and we had a cheap one in the bathroom vanity.  I bought a new Oral-B the next day.
• toothpaste - I used to skimp (bought cheap more because it only came in one flavor), but the dentist said I needed to use the Sensodyne enamel building stuff.  It did make a difference at my next visit, so it’s worth it.
• shoes - My everyday shoes are pretty pricey Merrells (not pricey as in $400 Jimmy Choos, but they’re closer to $100).  I love them, and they’re good for my feet.  I also buy pricey insoles (take expensive shoe and make it even more expensive), but it’s totally worth it.  My running shoes are also around $100.  However, even for dress shoes and loafers, I like to spend a good $50-$100.  Anything lower than that, and they either won’t last or won’t be comfortable.
• Diet Coke - enough said

What about you?  Is there anyplace you don’t skimp?  How about categories where you found it’s OK to skimp?

At roller derby bouts, a DJ plays between jams in order to keep the crowd pumped up, much like at any sporting event.  This past week, I heard the DJ play a song that I personally think should be banned from any playlist, and I’m shocked that over 10 years after this song was “popular,” I’m still hearing it in random places.

I’m talking about “Macarena.”

As I stood in the infield manning a penalty whiteboard, I was shocked that the DJ played this song–he didn’t look all that old, so maybe it’s a song from the good old days, back in junior high, and he thinks it will get the crowd jazzed up.  Problem is, half the crowd remembers when it was popular and now cringes whenever it’s played.  It’s just a crap song–it’s not even craptastic!

I remember when friends got married, and “Macarena” was explicitly left off reception playlists.  Heck, the YouTube link above even says, “This is the video for the Macarena by Los Del Rio I DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT OWN this video.” But if there’s a generation who has a soft spot for this drivel, could it possibly be revived?

I can only hope not, hence the reason I think it should be banned.  Forever.  I’m not sure there could be a worse song than “Macarena,” could there be?

Don’t you hate it when everybody raves about something, so you try it, only to discover you think it’s not all that great?  And then you wonder if something’s wrong with you, or if everybody else is nuts?

Yeah.  I’ve been having that lately.

I like “Mad Men.”  I don’t think it’s the greatest TV show to ever hit the airwaves.  The gushing is getting to me.

I’m starting to go “meh” on Twitter, simply because I don’t have the time to devote to it anymore (too many people post too many interesting articles.  Hours later….).

If I don’t eat sushi, Thai, Indian, or Ethiopian food for a few months (or years), I’m not going to die.  I don’t mind it, and if I’m going out with people who really want to eat said cuisine, I’ll go along, but I just don’t seek them out.  Sushi is OK, but seaweed makes me gag.  Thai food?  I love coconut, but I’m not a fan of coconut milk in a dinner entree.  I’m also not a fan of noodles.  Indian’s not bad either, but it seems to be a lot of gloppy stews.  Same with Ethiopian–and I’m not great at picking up bites with the bread and getting them in my mouth (and not on my shirt).

Oh, that’s not to say that there aren’t elements of each that I don’t love.  Wrap anything in dough and fry it, and I’m there.  Indian naan is out of this world, and I do enjoy a good samosa.  I had Ethiopian recently, and enjoyed some delicious spinach and pretty good beef and lamb dishes.  Ultimately, I don’t think much about these cuisines or get cravings for them like I do a good cheeseburger.

Perhaps I’m backing myself into a little “meh” corner with an attitude that doesn’t allow me to expand my world, but perhaps mind expansion is a little overrated too.

I keep a running list of topics to blog about for times like now when I feel like I have nothing to write about.  Oh, I’m still plenty grumpy today, but it’s not a good ranty kind of grumpy.  It’s the malaise of grumpy, and I can’t even articulate it.

Hopefully I haven’t already blogged about this one, but I’ve been getting some good spam lately.  I like the e-mails that ask me to store my stuff in a strong steel building.  There are days where I actually wish that one would come in.  I don’t know why I’m so tickled by it, but maybe it’s just because I like the phrase “strong steel building,” or I find it funny that someone’s trying to sell something so solid in cyberspace.  Still, it’s my favorite spam as of late.

I don’t like the ones that say, “You Probably Have ROTTING JUNK Inside Your Body!  GET IT OUT!”  I probably do have rotting junk inside my body.  I don’t want to think about it, and I don’t want a reminder to think about it.  I’ll just have an apple and some Kashi, and the fiber will take care of it.  OK?  Maybe you could send me a strong steel building so I have somewhere to store my rotting junk and keep it from rotting any further.

What happened to October?  We’re in the second half of the month, and for the most part, it’s been cold (COLD) and rainy like November.  So frustrating!

You might say we didn’t have much of a summer this year, but I don’t mind that so much.  Our apartment roasts in the heat, and this year it didn’t seem so bad–we didn’t have to run the air conditioning as much.

Of course, then we didn’t get much of a fall either.  Every once in a while we’ve had a glimpse of a beautiful fall day, with the crisp blue sky and colorful leaves.  Mostly though, it’s been a reminder of what November will bring, and that’s cold.  Even with the heat on, our apartment–more specifically, the area where my desk is, is already cold, and that means we’ll probably have to put the plastic over the windows soon.

I hate the plastic on the windows.  I hate it because it means it’s winter.  I hate it because it’s another reminder that our lovely vintage apartment is crummy and cheap.  Oh, the crumbling paint that’s falling all over my desk is another sign of the crap conditions, but the plastic is the semi-permanent sign.  The plastic doesn’t come off until spring.  If I want to look out the window while I work, well, I’ll just have to get up to do that.

I’d grumble more about not being able to afford a place with decent windows, but there are probably many people in houses who have things that need fixing and are just making due.  Somehow, on the dawn of winter, it feels like those things aren’t going to get better any time soon, so I suppose I’ll hunker down and try to make it work.

In an effort to battle the draft, I’ve brought some candles to my desk, a feeble attempt to add some heat to my corner.  Whether or not it’ll work remains to be seen, but I’d like to believe the light will give me some hope this winter.