freakin' new york freakin' city!

I seem to have somehow found myself in New York City.

I always kinda figured that if I was going to be in the corporate world, I wanted to have one of those jobs where I'd get a call saying "Can you get on a plane tomorrow, we really want you here!" And sure enough, here I am!

One of my clients had their quarterly financials update today, and they wanted someone to help with the monitoring. I think it was also just seen as a good chance for me to meet with some people --- both at the client and within my own company --- that I've worked with for years but never met. I got in late last night, and I leave tomorrow.

A good question is why it's 9 pm on a weeknight in NYC and I'm sitting in my hotel room and blogging to an empty world. I did an okay job of it though --- I had a very nice lunch with my brother in an upscale steak place, and after work I walked 5th avenue all the way from 56th to about 40th. I think I'm going to head out soon and get a bite of pizza.

Highlight of the stroll was probably the Christmas display at Saks. They have along the outside wall about 40 snowflakes of lights of various size, and they had a "light show" to the tune of the Carol of the Bells!

Thought I could get a little holiday shopping done, but I didn't see anything particularly inspiring.

Beauty is in the eye of the beerholder, or Star Trek TOS Episode #60

Marisa Miller

St. Cecilia, by Peter Paul Rubens

This is not going to be your usual diatribe on the superficiality of beauty. Well, okay it basically is, but hopefully it's my usual jaded twist.

It's interesting to think that, during times of the Renaissance, "beautiful" women were women who were huge. I mean the fatter the better. It kinda made sense too --- in a time wrought with plagues and such, when horses were part beast of burden and part menu item --- it was a status symbol (and damned sexy) to clearly have ready access to enough food. Basically, being fat was being rich.

So my question isn't how we got where we are today, or why chickies today are held to the standards they are etc. etc. Though that in and of itself could be an interesting diatribe. My question...

Controlling for, oh, surgery and airbrushing and such, some women today are just born what we would consider pretty. There's only a certain combination of characteristics women can have, especially if you're talking specifically about white women of European heritage.

So, were there Cindy Crawfords and Rachel Hunters wandering around 15th century Europe, regarded far and wide as hideous and ugly, and wallowing in self-pity because they have good metabolisms?

blank died at blank-o'clock....

I had an interesting chat tonight with the longtime political editor for a local broadcast TV affiliate. We were at a Christmas party tonight, and we'd met a couple of times before as we have mutual friends (my mother used to teach with his wife).

The conversation went something like this. I was the one asking...

"I want to ask you about something, and I'm not even sure you'll answer."
"Oh, okay. Well what's that?"
"Do you guys already have a recorded obituary ready for Fidel Castro that you're just gonna pop in whenever he goes?"
"Yeah, we do. We've got a few on file."
"Who else?"
"Well...."
"Gerald Ford?"
"Yeah."
"Bush the elder?"
"Yep. We've got about a dozen in the can... but Castro's is the one that's sitting out on the table and cued up."

The conversation sort of drifted off from there, as we started talking about George W. Bush, aka "Bush 41".

I'd love to know who the dozen are though.

this dyslexic guy walks into a bra...

A woman comes into the doctor's office for examination and he asks her to undress. As she does, he notices she has a giant H across her chest. Curious, he mentions it and she smiles and says "My boyfriend goes to Harvard, and he's such a devoted fan he won't ever take off his Harvard sweater, even when we make love."

The doctor thinks this is a bit odd, but doesn't think much about it until a week later when another woman comes in his office. As she undresses, he notices she has a giant Y across her chest. She smiles and says "My boyfriend goes to Yale, and he's such a devoted fan he won't ever take off his Yale sweater, even when we make love."

Same day a woman walks in his office, begins undressing and has what appears to be a giant M on her chest. The doctor says "Aha! I bet your boyfriend goes to Minnesota?" She looks at him and says "No... my girlfriend goes to Wisconsin."

sagelike wisdom

One of the most valuable lessons I learned in college was in one of my communications classes, but it had (almost) nothing to do with the communication process.

It was in Dr. Brey's argumentation class, and he told us once, apropos of nearly nothing, "If you learn nothing else in college, remember this...don't drink and dial."

Of course, a wet-behind-the-ears freshman girl in the front row raised her hand and said "Don't you mean don't drink and drive?"

He said "No... don't drink and DIAL. Everybody in this room has either experienced this lesson or will soon... but someday this might be one of the most valuable lessons you've ever learned."


It took a while, but I know exactly what he was referring to... because when you're in your mid-20s and have had a few cups of the ol' fire-water, suddenly it seems like a fine idea to call up old girlfriends and profess your love, question why you ever broke up, etc. It always seems like a good idea when you're warm and buzzing, and, well, isn't.

Of course, I suppose nowadays there's a Roosevelt corollary to the Monroe Doctrine, which is "don't drink and text", "don't drink and e-mail", etc.

I was fortunate in that I had a pretty good "out". My best friend moved to Hawai'i after college, so even if I was leaving a bar at 3 AM I could still call her because it was a fairly reasonable hour in Honolulu, they're five hours behind. And before that when I was still in college, well... if I was out at 3 am I was probably with her :)

You could often pick out the freshmen. My first semester at Florida State, I printed out a copy of my schedule of classes, and color-coded it so I would know which one was which and when my breaks were (I had a color printer and was playing with it, plus I was my usual paranoid about now knowing where the rooms were)... I had it in the front pocket of my public speaking class folder. First week of class a girl looks over and says "You're a freshman, aren't you?" I said "How did you know!?!" :-P

So, to paraphrase Wag the Dog, "There are two things I know to be true. One is that there is no difference between good flan and bad flan, the other is don't drink and dial."

with apologies to Jimmy Durante....

Good night Ms. Gavin, wherever you are.

the "John Spartan" thing

Been a while since I gave an explanation of this alter ego thing... and some of the millions and millions of people (errrr....) who will read this blog may not have been paying attention through the years....

click here for the story