Hit Me

Getting your hair cut, specifically getting your hair cut short, is like doing crack. The first time is magical, seeing your long, split ends fall to the ground and an elegant cut that highlights your bone structure takes shape before you. You are addicted after one hit. You go back, again and again, but never quite experience the same nirvana--now its too short on top, too flippy at the sideburns and a bit longer on the left than the right. Maybe if you go back again, they can fix it? But now it's too short all over. You resign yourself to quit, missing your life before short hair, and start to regrow your tresses. There is nothing worse than the growing-out look, particularly growing out a bad cut, so the craving starts. You argue trying to persuade yourself to stay on the wagon:

You: I want to get my hair cut.

You: Hang in there, its only been 7 weeks, you can do this.

You: I really want to get my hair cut.

You: Remember how bad the last cut was? Don't do this to yourself. It will never be like the first time.

You: I need to get my hair cut.

You: No! You'll never get your hair back to long if you cave...

You: Hi, Shari? Can I get in today? I've got to get a haircut today or I may die...

Going Green-The Smart Way

The other day while watching a HGTV special about how to "Go Green" with home decor I was struck again with feelings bordering on disgust. What appears on the surface to be a plea to save the environment by making wise choices is in fact, nothing more than a sales pitch to buy earth friendly, but expensive and often unecessary "green" accessories for your home.

Before I am tarred and feathered for speaking out against ecologically friendly choices, consider--since granite is a nonrenewable resource is it better for the earth to rip out your granite countertops to install new ones made of renewable hemp as the programme suggests? Your existing granite countertops will last into the next eon, to be excavated by archeaologists of the future. Or, you could chuck them in the landfill and get some "green" ones made of hemp. Don't sweat the money you will spend (or the money you wasted on granite), after all hemp ones are renewable and manufactured with clean energy.

Tell me I am not the only person seeing the irony here? If you are building a new home, or refurbishing one that is beyond repair, making earth-friendly choices is smart and conservative. If you are simply remixing your home for the fun of redecorating, replacing useful and timeless accessories and fixtures is wasteful and pollutes the environment; even if you replace them with something ecologically friendly.

The woman whose home was featured on the programme was thrilled to demonstrate the chairs that were "leftover" from her previous home's design, and how they were "recycled" by replacing their covers that were manufactured detrimentally to the earth, to ones with fabrics created with little environmental impact. The chairs were clearly relatively new, sturdy pieces. It's hardly recycling to recover a chair that was built within ten years for the sake of good "green" taste.

At the end of the show, was the prompt, "For more ways to make your home green, go to..." with the implication that the responsible thing to do is to convert our homes to "green" ones. This is something advertisers can truly value, consumers being pushed to revamp their entire homes for no reason other than to make them Earth conscious. They see the money rolling in with entire homes being converted from long-wearing plastic, metal, stone and vinyl to expensive and less durable seagrasses and Brazilian drift wood. I see the landfills piling up with still useful things, replaced to jump on the trend bandwagon.

Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without. Unless of course you can immediately replace it with the more environmentally sound counterpart. Then you are doing your duty to make the world a greener place.

Painting the Roses Red

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Yet I continue to return to Walmart, day after day, supposing that at some point it will get better. It never will, and I'm certifiably insane.

Our Walmart is being converted from a regular Walmart to a "Super" Walmart. This has been an ongoing project for more than a year. It's gone from being a tiny store where they carry Walmart brand everything and nothing else, to a gargantuan store that carries multiple choices in varying Walmart brands. You can choose between the Mainstays product or the Home Trends version but either way its generic cheap crap in a shrink wrapped package; a box would cut into their profit margin. The only thing I can think of to say in their defense is that returns are relatively pain free there, if you can live through several days in line to get to the return counter.

During the remodel, the entire store shuffles on a daily basis. You will find automotive supplies right next to the yarn one day, and intermixed with the pet food the next. To make what would be a very user-friendly experience even better, throw in a hundred or so customers who are similarly irritated by the nail polish and the nail polish remover being in two completely different areas of the store. When you first walk in the door, the greeter who used to be a friendly, elderly gentleman named Howard has been replaced by mullet chick wearing a Dawg the Bounty Hunter T-shirt who grunts "Welcome to Walmart, hold on to your purse." I'm not sure if the remodel has included stationing purse snatchers throughout the store, or whether she's a disgruntled employee trying to warn customers that Walmart's primary goal is to rip people off. I think they should get Howard back, and when you walk in the door he could say, "Welcome to Walmart" and hand you an updated map and a Valium.

Part of the appeal to our community of having a Super Walmart is the mass of entry level, minimum wage jobs that would materialize. A friend of mine applied for a job there after high school. He didn't pass their computer pre-screening system and was never called for an interview. Instead he went on to earn 3 graduate degrees and is a well known professional in his field. He wasn't good enough to work for Walmart, but he now makes enough mint that grocery store priced paper towels don't even phase him, so he doesn't have to endure the shoddy service at Wally's. Some people do actually pass the computer screenings, take Cody for example, who passed the online personality test and landed a job working in the paint department. On Saturday, I waited in line in the paint department for 45 minutes waiting for someone to mix a custom color. No one was stationed in paint, because Cody failed to show up to work. My color was finally mixed by the associate from Automotive. Cody finally came stumbling in, (presumably once his hangover lifted) and assumed his post. His coworker made a snide remark, but the nearby manager didn't bat an eye or comment about his punctuality. After all, its difficult to find employees who can pass the tard screening and be hired. While we waited for our paint, we wandered around the store and ended up buying a lava lamp. We got it home, and it doesn't work.

Today I had to go back to return the lava lamp and to buy more paint, this time a premixed "White" latex Semi-Gloss mildew resistant paint. Our friend Cody was at work, but I knew right where to go for what I needed so I went ahead and helped myself. On the shelf in front of me was White Latex Eggshell, White Latex High Gloss, White Latex Satin, Bright White Latex Semi Gloss, Cashmere White Latex Semi-Gloss...but no regular White Latex Semi Gloss. Finally I found it, in the back corner on a high shelf, in a quart size container. The price per gallon is $19.97. (Funny, the last gallon I bought was 14.93...it's amazing how those prices keep rolling back.) The price per quart is 10.98. I'm sure Cody didn't realize that to buy it that way it would cost more than twice as much, he still had a good three hours before his pre-work joint wears off. The conversation went like this:

Excuse me, I need this paint in the gallon size, and there is none on the shelf.

Uhhh...I guess that means we must be out of it.

Ok...could you check and see if there would be more in the back? It's a pretty normal thing that you guys stock all the time.

We probably do have some in the back. But I can't get it for you.

Uh huh. Can someone else get it for me?

No. Its blocked off with junk from the remodel. We will put it out in a few days.

Well then, I want to buy the quart packaged paint at the gallon price.

I don't think you can do that.

In that case, I would like to talk to someone who would know if I can do that.

Um, you mean like a manager or something?

Or something...

Cody is amazingly able to work a telephone and calls requesting a manager. 45 minutes later Cody says he will be "right back" and disappears. Assistant Manager Jerry finally shows up.

Hi, I need this paint in a gallon size.

Jerry checks the shelf, and declares that they must be out of it.

OK.... Jerry having attended a 3 hour management training course realizes out that he can mix color into the Bright White base to obtain a regular white. "The formula is in this book right here." Great, lets do that then. Jerry mixes my paint for me. Just as I'm about to leave, Cody returns, appearing visibly relaxed.

Jerry: Hey Cody, has anyone shown you this book? It has formulas for any color including white.

Cody: Yeah, but I don't care about that, I like to use the computerized system.

Jerry: The computerized system is nice, except in circumstances when you need to see an actual formula in front of you.

Cody: Whatever, man.

Jerry: You are such a great employee Cody. I wish all the guys on my crew were are with it as you are. It's so hard to find good people. You wouldn't believe how many weirdos the computer screens out!

Your Proctologist Called...

I think he found your head.



Today I had the less than delightful experience of being a bystander of stupidity. At some point, people have to realize that walking around like that could be the reason their neck hurts.

A colleague of mine is infuriated by an email I sent him and my direct supervisor to address an issue under his control two weeks ago. I sent it to him because he is the only person who can resolve it, and to my supervisor (who is not in a supervisorial role to him) who would then know why my work performance has been inhibited. Basically the crew he supervises keeps taking over my workspace, and legal deadlines are making it imperative that I have a place to work in his building. I've seen him since then in passing and he's been perfectly friendly. The necessary changes have been made and I've finally received access to the resources and rooms I need from his department.

Today however, he seized an opportunity to corner me and attempted to rip me a new one, apparently its been stewing for awhile and rather than dealing with it like a civilized being he attempted to victimize me by bullying me into conceding his point. I conceded that he probably took my email the wrong way, in an attempt to be congruent and move forward in a professional, assertive manner. I emphasized that regardless of how he took the tone of my email, he can't deny that the problems existed and his responsibility to ensure me adequate work space. Since his goal was apparently to bully and harrass me into submission, congruence didn't appeal to him, and he set out his list of demands, which included two specific requests: one which clearly breaks federal law, and the other which sets me up for extreme personal liability.

Please note that when I say requests, they were framed as orders, and I particularly relished the fact that I'm not his direct subordinate, and I (politely) refused on both counts. I continued to be assertive, calm, and as congruent as one can be while telling another person I will not put myself and my employer in legal jeopardy for his personal convenience. What I wanted to say was that in an ideal world he would regain control of his department before it implodes. (I restrained myself on that one, but I am stocking up on popcorn to munch on while I watch the implosion.)

Then I had the pleasure of watching him implement his grand scheme of how it would all come together, his way. As long as my legal bases are covered, I'm not picky about location and I had a client waiting so I agreed to use the area he recommended. He personally escorted us there. The room was completely empty, deserted, and freezing cold. He flipped on the lightswitch and nothing happened. I stared at him expectantly, and watched his face get redder. Finally the florescent lights kicked in, and he grunted, then went off in search of a table to use for workspace. He came back in with 24 inches by 18 inches table. I looked at the table and looked at him. His face got redder, and he grunted something about possibly needing a larger table. I said, "thank you, that would be nice," in a tone as sweet as sugar. Another grunt. He came back with a table. I did not offer to help set it up, I stood and watched. Of course, he had to make another trip in and out for chairs as well.

It is probably perverse that I enjoyed this so much. I have a hunch that the table & chairs will be removed by Monday when I go back. Is it wrong that I plan to revel in popping my head into his office to let him know I need them back? The best laid plans of mice have a way of providing karmic pleasure for us bystanders.

Vehicles of Patriarchy

High heels, I loathe you. Oh sure, you are pretty. You make my calves and booty look so voluptuous, yet you make my toes and arches ache and blister. Who decided that open toed sandals should be made of shiny leather which will rub, rub, rub the skin off my feet? You can't wear socks or hose with them, you can't even put on a bandaid for padding without it showing through. Who was that man, I'd like to punch him in the face. And you know it was a him. You know a woman would have considered toe friction and bunion avoidance. She also would have considered arch support and a surface to balance on wider than a pencil. She also would have considered that if your right leg is 1/32nd of an inch longer than your left, this manifests in incredible pressure on your right big-toe joint in high heels. The male designer of course, never got past the idea of calves and booties.

I can't get away with wearing my Columbia hiking shoes except on casual Fridays anymore, people are starting to talk. My flat oxfords don't cut it with summery skirts and capris, so I bought some lovely, bone colored open toed dress shoes for work. They were beautiful, feminine shoes that would have done Minnie Mouse proud. I envisioned the women at work saying "great shoes!" I thought about how I empowering it would be to be two inches taller. I put on the shoes and they felt decent at the store. When I got dressed this morning I realized that there was going to be some serious pain by the end of the day. By breaking out the bandaids I was able to spare my pinky toes. I thought the joint by my big toe would be OK, but as the day wore holes into my feet, I came to rue the day I found them on display at Shoe Pavillion.

Of course today was also one of those wild goose chase days at work. I couldn't just sit at my desk and slide the shoes off except for when I walk down the hall to the vending machines for bottled water. No, of course I had meetings outside the office. I had to walk up and down the stairs six times, carrying my 30 lb briefcase with me. Chivalry is dead, none of the office guys so much as glanced at my case let alone offered to carry it, but high heels survived the feminist movement to curse us into our graves. And of course, my meetings were no shows so I had to back and forth it up and down the stairs all day long. You can't walk quickly in them because its too painful. Walking slowly means more steps with the inane rubbing with each step. Hans Christian Anderson was prophetic of high heels when the Witch told the Little Mermaid her every step would feel like knives slicing her skin. I think she would have thought twice about becoming human had she realized it was not an exaggeration.

Some of my third-stage feminist friends claim makeup is a vehicle of patriarchy, a snare set by men to keep us subservient and superficial. No, I love Estee Lauder and Mary Kay. They have never prematurely aged me. They have protected me from melanoma and give me some color on days when I feel like the walking dead after a long night with a sick toddler. They let me experiment with a new look for a $14.95 tube of lipstick instead of $90 cut and highlights and they are completely reversible. Men of the metrosexual persuasion are even catching on to the benefits of tea-tree oil and concealer for the occasional unsightly blemish.

High heels however, have given me nothing back. They have sent me to the choiropractors office for an adjustment and a $120/hour sacro-cranial massage to relieve the headaches that travelled up my sciatic nerve to my skull. They slow me down to the pace of a tortoise forcing me to do my work twice as fast to make up the time. And when I walk in the door and I see my husbands eye travel up me from ankle to shoulder I kick the infernal things off in disgust. Not on your life after the day I've had with these blasted shoes. Please pass the ibuprofen, and honey, next time you catch me glance at the spring shoe display at Macy's please steer me toward Sephora instead. You'll thank me later, I promise.

I Vote for Plan B

Scientists at Johns-Hopkins University have developed a genetically modified mosquito that is better able to survive than mosquitoes in the wild. The plan is to release the mutant mosquitoes who are hardier and through natural selection, they will eventually take over and other mosquitoes will die out. They believe this is a good idea, because the genetically modified mosquitoes are immune to malaria.

I'll tell you the problem with the scientific power that you're using here: it didn't require any discipline to attain it. You read what others had done and you took the next step. You didn't earn the knowledge for yourselves, so you don't take any responsibility for it.
-Dr. Ian Malcolm, Jurassic Park

While 300 million people contract malaria each year, and 1 million die from it, this could potentially avert the malaria problem. Except that the malaria the genetically superior mosquitoes do not spread is a form that makes mice sick, but not people.

Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should.
-Dr. Ian Malcolm Jurassic Park.

Does anyone really think its a fabulous idea to release genetically mutated super-bugs into the environment? I don't know of anyone who personally enjoys being bitten by mosquitoes, having mosquito bites, or being infected with encephalitis or West Nile virus. Malaria is one of our concerns, but malaria in people, not in rats!

It's almost as if they think that having more mosquitoes will make things better. I've never had mosquitoes take all my blood before, I suspect the population of Africa (where Malaria is most rampant) could supply more blood to the mosquito population than they are currently. So is the idea that with only half the mosquitoes now spreading disease, we will feel better about that-and somehow not notice we are getting twice as many mosquito bites? (I don't think that reduces the odds of contracting Malaria much.)

What is so great about discovery? It is a violent, penetrative act that scars what it explores. What you call discovery, I call the rape of the natural world.
-Dr. Ian Malcolm, Jurassic Park

Um-kay, maybe rape is a little extreme, but there has to be a better solution than the introduction of genetically engineered micro-vampires into the food chain. It's only a matter of time before the little devils mutate to become invincible, organize and take over the world-right after we all die of some undiscovered prion that the genetically modified mosquitoes do carry, but the scientists did not notice when they concocted their little scheme.

Enter Plan B: Scientists at Hebrew University have annihilated their mosquito population by spraying a sugar based pesticide on acacia trees. Female mosquitoes need blood to reproduce, but they need sugar for energy. Mosquitoes are picky about what they eat, so its been discovered that we can selectively spray only the flowers and plants they find attractive-not the ones that are part of our food supply.

Call me crazy, but the idea of a mosquito-less world is very appealing to me. No more choosing between wearing eau deu Deep Woods and dying of West Nile Virus...no more paying $150 every three months on Canine Advantix for my dogs.

I don't think the John's Hopkins research has gone to waste, maybe they could generalize their research to creating genetically modified honeybees that have no stingers, but who also create more honey. Its a win-win situation for Winnie the Pooh, and for those of us who have to carry an Epi-Pen in the spring and summer.