Archive for the ‘OPEd’ Category

Nike has a new ad campaign that’s pretty kick a**.  I caught them posted on FB and thought they were pretty cool. Actually I think anything that tells me it’s okay to have “thunder thighs” is awesome…a “muffin top” is a different story though. Since it’s kind of hard to read the phrases, I typed them out…my favorite, “those who might scorn it are invited to kiss it.” 

Thunder Thighs

nike thighs

I have Thunder Thighs and that’s a compliment because they are strong and toned and muscular and though they are unwelcome in the petite section, they are cheered on in marathons. Fifty years from now I’ll bounce a grandchild on my thunder thighs and then I’ll go out for a run.

Chicken Legs

nike legs

My legs were once two hairy sticks that weren’t very good at jump rope but by the time I reached the age of algebra, they had come into their own and now in spin class, they are revered, envied for their strength, honored for their beauty, hairless for the most part, except that place the razor misses just behind the ankles.

Scabby Knees

nike knees

My knees are tomboys. They get bruised and cut every time I play soccer. I’m proud of them and wear my dresses short. My mother worries I will never marry with knees like that. But I know there’s someone out there who will say to me “I love you and I love your knees.” I want the four of us to grow old together.

Hips Don’t Lie

nike hips 

My hips return to puberty when I’m in dance class. Music affects them like hormones making them crazy and spontaneous and optimistic and prone to drama and I don’t understand them and sometimes they don’t understand themselves. When the music stops they’re still charged. Don’t touch me. Sparks will fly.

 I Like Big Butts

 nike butt

My butt is big and round like the letter C and ten thousand lunges have made it rounder but not smaller and that’s just fine. It’s a space heater for my side of the bed. It’s my ambassador to those who walk behind me. It’s a border collie that herds skinny women away from the best deals at clothing sales. My butt is big and that’s just fine and those who might scorn it are invited to kiss it.

SWOOSH. Well done Nike.


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So – yes I realize I’ve been extremely MIA lately – and getting worse! For that, I’m sorry and WILL make a better attempt to find something (or anything!) to say, especially since I realized that TODAY, yes today, is the ONE YEAR mark for me starting this blog – and wow has a lot happened in a year.


That is my happy birthday, and by birthday I clearly mean blogday, cupcake to me.

A lot can change in a year – hell, a lot can change in a day – and my philosophy is to roll with the punches, and throw a few of my own into the mix. That’s not always easy. As someone who since childhood has consistently maintained a vehement loathing for change, over the years, I have found myself time and again thrown something that causes me to react…and ultimately change.

At the dinner table when I was a kid and naturally didn’t want to eat something that looked vile and disgusting, my mom always told me about the “Learn to Like It Club.” As a product of the ’40’s/50’s, she’s a woman who grew up around evening radio broadcasts. One show that came on around dinnertime featured this “Learn to Like It” segment as wells the “Empty Plate Clubber’s” bit. Parents would call in and share if their little angel had successfully kept down the broccoli they swore they would throw up if forced to eat. “Learn To Like It” had a similar purpose – if a kid found that they actually enjoyed grapefruit, Mom or Dad would call in Cleaver-style and report this to all the listeners. How 1950’s.

Mom used a similar tactic with me, even though the show had been on static for 30+ years. That mind-set of “maybe you’ll just learn to like it” spilled over from my plate into my real life. And I actually think this is how I’ve adjusted to those big changes – each time I’ve packed a suitcase – thought about a job switch – toyed another move, I’ve done it solely because I had to learn to like the taste of change. And I think I have (sort- of)…

So here I am, one year later from that first post about moving to the Big City. And who knows where this next year will take me – perhaps in a year, I’ll find myself back up there, but I do promise to keep documenting it – because I know that even as I write this, my tastes are changing and that’s not necessarily a bad thing anymore.

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hesjustnotthatintoyou2Last night I saw He’s Just Not That Into You (HJNTIY). First, I need to admit I’ve never read the book. Actually, I actively refused to read the book. A lot of my friends told me to read it, that it would enlighten me, that I would never look at relationships the same again, or that I basically should just give up all together, but I couldn’t do it. I hated the premise, and true or not was never in the mood to be deconstructed by a featured blip in a Sex and the City (SATC) episode.

 But I figured I’d give the it a try, as I’m a sucker for chick-flicks and typically for the clichés they inevitably entail. I came out of the theater yesterday wish-washy. The film was all right for what it was, but overall I left pretty disappointed in everything except for a few of the one-liners (most of which appeared in the trailers anyhow).  

 The movie’s format ran like the first season of SATC where curbside commentators were inserted into the episode’s plot line. I didn’t like the effect in that season (hence why the producers of SATC stopped this method of filming) and I thought it was unimpressive here (the only movie where it worked was When Harry Met Sally). I also wasn’t a fan of the fade-outs to a black screen where a tagline popped up like, if she’s not sleeping with you… or if he’s not calling you… Frankly, it wasn’t needed; I just wanted to hear the characters’ stories.

 With that said, the characters weren’t that great or perhaps it was the acting. Jennifer Aniston and Ben Affleck were the only likeable pair. Drew Barrymore was just a cameo (with which I was okay) and her best line was spoiled in the trailers. Over-the-top Ginnifer Goodwin (Gigi) sounded nauseatingly desperate, clingy, clueless, and at-times ridiculous. Yes, I understand she’s a girl who wants a guy and can’t comprehend why every guy she meets never wants to go out with her again. And yes, I get that the point of her whole diatribe is so that she can meet Alex (Justin Long) who will give her profound insight into the inner-workings of the average male’s mind. But really…my willing suspension of disbelief just does not stretch as far as the development of their relationship. Scarlett Johansson remained the random, sullen co-star much like she played in The Other Boleyn Girl (where she was the MAIN character and yet she NEVER spoke, not to mention the fact that she happens to be an American playing British royalty- Americans playing Brits is a huge pet peeve of mine; they suck at doing it). And while I realize her character in HJNTIY is “the other woman” and not a reflection on her as a real person, it is NOT okay under any circumstance to screw a married man no matter how charming his smile or what he can do for your career.

 What’s probably most frustrating about this movie is that it never makes a cohesive point and there’s really no reason it shouldn’t. The connections of the main cast are flimsy at best; Ginnfer Goodwin meets Justin Long while stalking his friend Kevin Connolly (Conor). The story just doesn’t back up the title and it was a title that couldn’t be more straightforward (unlike Doubt or The Reader, titles both open to interpretation before even glancing at a synopsis). It doesn’t get much blunter than He’s Just Not That Into You. Yet, somehow after 2 hours and 9 minutes, I managed to leave the movie feeling oddly hopeful, like he may not be into me now, but he will be if I just do this, whatever this may be. Isn’t that exactly what I’m not supposed to think? Or is the movie being ironic? See, confusion.

And yes…the movie was too long! Perhaps had there been more pithy dialogue, it would have garnered better focus, but as such, people started whispering, digging through their candy boxes, slurping the last of their sodas. And while I enjoyed a few laugh-out-loud lines like:

  • “If treats you like he doesn’t give a shit, it’s because he doesn’t give a shit.”
  •  “We are all programmed to believe that if a guy acts like a total jerk that means he likes you.”
  •  “I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work, so I called him at home, and then he emailed me to my BlackBerry, and so I texted to his cell, and now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It’s exhausting.”

I would have been just as content not spending $11, and instead watching one of the trailer clips for HJNTIY, like the one  filmed by the three male protagonists. Their spoof on 10 Cliches Not In the Movie called out all the chick-flick stereotypes we’ve come to know and love. Unfortuanately this meant producers had to come up with some new ones, and in this case, they fell flat, but at least these guys made me laugh.

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dierksIf you ever pull up next to me at a stoplight, try not to laugh when you glance over. Chances are, you’ll see me gripping the steering wheel deep in the throes of belting out whatever song my stereo is blasting. As Maya Angelou puts it, “Music [is] my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.”

People often ask me what’s my favorite song or band, and I’m never able to answer with just one. And whatever that answer may be changes depending on the time of day, where I am and what I’m doing. I use music. I use it to vent frustrations, to fall asleep, to find a rhythm, to understand why’s and how’s. While many listen to music for the sound, the quick rat-tat-tats that provide a beated soundtrack to life, I turn up my volume for the lyrics. I think it’s the words in a song that create the tone of music. And I’ve found that my favorite lyrics stem from country music (it was a shocker when I first realized this fact).

Country music always tells a story; that southern belle who when cheated on by a brute in too tight jeans extracts her revenge by digging a key into the side of his truck or a guy who makes up a persona online of being a 6’5” hot Hollywood stud who drives a Maserati. And it’s the stories I love. Yes, I laugh out loud by myself at some of these croonings. I identify with the tales of woe and memories of good times, kegs in closets, and pizzas on the floor. And I may or may not fist pump to give the horse a break and choose the cowboy instead…I can’t help myself; the fist has a will of its own and who wouldn’t want to save the horse?

So…it didn’t take much convincing when my two coworkers, Christine and Michele, busted into my office on Monday to see if I wanted to go and have lunch with Dierks Bentley. Now by lunch, they really meant sitting in on the live recording of Lunch Time Live Chat with Dierks Bentley at WMZQ studios. At that moment, I couldn’t think of any song I knew by Dierks, but I love live music so I jumped at the chance (it turns out, I knew more than I thought).

For those of you who don’t know Dierks (we’re now on a first name basis), he just released his 5th album, Feel that Fire on Feb. 3 and was doing the media rounds prior to boost the hype for it. One stop was the WMZQ radio station in Rockville, MD and I sat in the second row excited to see the preview. It’s so interesting to me to have that moment of realization when you figure out a celebrity is just a regular person who a lot of people happen to know about and talk about.

The stage was just two microphones and two stools. Dierks sat before his mic and leaned back on the stool as he played his old guitar (worn where his pinky rubbed at countless concerts and campfires and signed by his two favorite George’s…I’ll give you a hint, one is not George Bush). With him was another singer or partner-in-good-ole’-boy-crime, Rod Janzen. The two were in perfect sync as they played some old songs and ones off the newer record. Their harmony blended well with the sound of their guitars, and I couldn’t help but bob my heel (I was on my lunch break after all) to the beat. The audience stumped the two during a q&a on a few tried and true tunes, but Dierks and Rod handled it well, bantering back and forth, and making both mental and verbal notes to re-learn The Heaven I’m Headin’ To once they settled back on their tour bus.

Dierks talked a bit about the album, favorites on it and why some were written. Check out his website for the song’s full histories, www.dierks.com. While I may not have gotten a signed CD (I wasn’t a lucky call-in winners, just a tag-a-long moocher), I did spend a fantastic hour listening to true, thoughtful words put to great music (and I got a picture with him!) …(Dierks, if you read this, I’d love one and would be more than willing to buy it if you sign it (I was the girl in the red sweater?))…(woops sorry about the tangent).  And though I didn’t get to eat my sandwich on my 60 minute lunch, listening to Dierks sing for an hour was more than worth it.

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‘Tis the Season

It’s beginning to look a lot like Thanksgiving and that means several things.1. I go to work and leave work in the dark.

2. Tea has replaced iced coffee as my drink of choice in the morning.

3. Christmas is coming, but it’s not here yet!

Yes, I am one of those people who hates that Christmas decorations roll out right after Halloween, mainly because I was born on Thanksgiving and it irks me that Turkey-day is bi-passed straight for Santa. With that said, I must say I love the whole three month holiday season pretty much for one reason…a reason which happens to revolve around the title of my blog.

Edy’s Slow Churned Ice Cream releases its Holiday Flavors and I feel the need to give an early Thanks for this!

In case you’re not familiar with their selection, I’ve highlighted them below with a brief, but mouth-watering rant:

Edy’s Pumpkin:


I’m glad Edy’s gives a gobble to Thanksgiving with this creamy pumpkin pie ice dream cream. Sweet with a hint of spice, this treat is perfect with a cup of Apple cider after the food coma of the main Turkey meal wanes. The only thing missing…pie crust in the churn…Give thanks.

Edy’s Peppermint:


By far my favorite…on a typical evening after purchasing this special treat, I opt not to dirty my dishes, and instead scoop out huge mouthfuls with a spoon, and sometimes my fingers and may or may not eat half of the container. Smooth vanilla ice cream expertly churned with peppermint swirl and candy pieces…All that’s missing is chocolate shavings and/or syrup…Give thanks.

Edy’s Egg Nog:

edys-egg-nog1So I’m guessing this is for those of us who have not/will not/refuse to make New Year’s resolutions. While I’m not a huge fan of the Egg Nog drink, I do love this ice cream…I actually don’t think I’ve had a container of it last longer than 24 hours. The only thing missing, a shot of brandy whiskey and a good snog, but you can get both, either under the mistletoe or when the ball drops…Give thanks.

So yes…I have an unhealthy obsession with ice cream…hence naming this blog after it. And no, I do not work for Edy’s and am not spewing their propaganda (although if they’re hiring, my resume and tastebuds are updated and ready to go).

I felt it was time for me to finally dedicate a post to my muse. And while I’m personally partial to Edy’s, I know there are many other great flavors out there…any for which you’d like to give thanks?

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One mild irritation on an ever-growing list of irritations:

I dislike it when those who use the microwave before me remove their food and leave the timer on whatever time they decided their food was warmed to perfection or perhaps boiled over. I especially dislike it when the time blinking in front of me is one second. At this point, will it really matter if your food boils over the one extra second if chili or oatmeal is already spattered all over the microwave?

Instead of hitting the ‘cancel’ button, they choose to pop open the door, remove their steaming food, and walk away so that when those of us who are next in line put our chilly food in to ‘nuke it,’ we have to stand there for a few seconds before we realize that the timer is still set for the person who came before we did.

As a result we are forced to press ‘cancel,’ an extra and unnecessary button in our food preparation.

Common courtesy would be for them to push it.

So just do it. Even if there is one second left and your popcorn bag is on fire, either wait out that one second until it beeps or press the cancel button.

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After my SATC post, I got to thinking about if Carrie were more like me, she would clearly prefer a pint over a martini glass. But to entice her interest, there would have to be a beer to match her personality…a sort of personified doppelgänger to the Cosmo.

…slightly shallow, definitely fabulous, pink and frothy, goes down smooth…you get my point.

Only in New York does such a beer exist and it’s thanks to one of the city’s home-grown breweries, Heartland Brewery, a great place for a plate and a pitcher and also host of NYC Brewfest.

The Beer: Berry Champagne Ale, served in a tall, thin glass with an etching of a long pair of legs in fish-nets and red stilettes.

Take a sip, slip the beer goggles on, and start looking for Mr. Right…er…or better yet, Mr. RightNow.

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