The pale moonlight is unusually bright tonight, the lake…shiny and still underneath it’s glare, almost surrounds the stately old house, high in the hills. The Brookenshire is it’s name. It is one the finer houses, and surrounded by trees and other smaller keeps. Town folk often scuttle about, breathing in the deep country air, and working hard at their tasks. The more lordly of the people, of course, sit high and proud in their fine houses, while ordering their servants (mainly town folk) about with great dignity.
“The ladies tea”, often transpires weekly in the Spencer’s’ garden, but is more fondly labeled as “the ladies gossip”.
Overall, the island of Durham is a friendly one. One, that is not without its eccentrics…such as Willy Dapper, the 60 year old man who refuses to cut his hair, and names his small cottage “The Lion’s Den”, swearing that the first person to enter without knocking will be doomed to die a tragic death.
Then, of course, there are the gossips that will often will be found in the company of Greta, and Nora Spencer, two old sisters who never married…and probably couldn’t have if they wanted to. If you were ever trying to commit a sin, it was not recommendable or at all wise to carry it out anywhere near the Spencer’s’ or their house…for it was said, their large noses could literally smell a wicked thought.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
In order to Live
I need people,
But sometimes I need to be alone.
Amongst them,
But not resting on my parents’ name,
My church’s rules,
My friends’ endless opinions.
I CRAVE independence.
A chance to stand alone,
And because it is real and MINE,
Stand tall and true.
I’m sick of being so limited…
So easily affected by the few around me.
My world feels
So small,
So controlled,
So easy.
I need challenge.
I need to win against the odds,
I need to FIGHT to SING,
Not just sing because I have a good voice.
Maybe that’s why so many of
My friends are leaving,
So many things are changing,
I’ve been crying inside,
And questioning God,
When He’s known all along.
I need
To grow stronger
To live.
But sometimes I need to be alone.
Amongst them,
But not resting on my parents’ name,
My church’s rules,
My friends’ endless opinions.
I CRAVE independence.
A chance to stand alone,
And because it is real and MINE,
Stand tall and true.
I’m sick of being so limited…
So easily affected by the few around me.
My world feels
So small,
So controlled,
So easy.
I need challenge.
I need to win against the odds,
I need to FIGHT to SING,
Not just sing because I have a good voice.
Maybe that’s why so many of
My friends are leaving,
So many things are changing,
I’ve been crying inside,
And questioning God,
When He’s known all along.
I need
To grow stronger
To live.
Let Me Be the Sun
Someday, I wonder if I will look back on this day,
With a long-ago memory of innocence,
My face open to the sun,
Quietly embraced by it’s gentle warmth,
Feeling the winds’ fingers in my hair,
With the window rolled down.
The freedom I find in such peace,
Causes me to long to be the sun,
So sure, so unyielding, so real.
The clouds may mask her from my eyes,
But she is still there.
I want to be so independent…
Reaching across sky over land and sea,
No matter what darkness is there to face me.
I want to do the impossible,
Doing what no other light or planet could do,
Lighting up a WORLD,
And never needing it’s thanks.
To work an ordered path up and down the sky,
But still shine without limits.
To be the smile of the morning,
The soft kiss of the night,
The light that awakes the world,
To an ever-new dawn,
And sleeps at night,
To let the bigger picture shine.
Let me never look back on this day and regret,
Let me only smile,
From my place in the sky.
With a long-ago memory of innocence,
My face open to the sun,
Quietly embraced by it’s gentle warmth,
Feeling the winds’ fingers in my hair,
With the window rolled down.
The freedom I find in such peace,
Causes me to long to be the sun,
So sure, so unyielding, so real.
The clouds may mask her from my eyes,
But she is still there.
I want to be so independent…
Reaching across sky over land and sea,
No matter what darkness is there to face me.
I want to do the impossible,
Doing what no other light or planet could do,
Lighting up a WORLD,
And never needing it’s thanks.
To work an ordered path up and down the sky,
But still shine without limits.
To be the smile of the morning,
The soft kiss of the night,
The light that awakes the world,
To an ever-new dawn,
And sleeps at night,
To let the bigger picture shine.
Let me never look back on this day and regret,
Let me only smile,
From my place in the sky.
Emma Lee
There once was a girl named Emma Lee.
She was a spunky little thing, when she came to me.
She cocked her little head, her pert nose raised in glory,
And demanded so sweetly that I must write her a story.
I raised my head humbly and considered slowly,
When she snapped her fingers and declared, “Promptly!”
Then she folded up her hands and smiled sweetly,
And she batted an eyelash at my papers discreetly.
As if to say, “I know this story will be all about me!”
But still the lass was wee, and was curious to see,
How expressly words could capture her inexpressible beauty,
And aptly fill long sonnets with the extent of her humility.
So I took my pen to paper, that I might be free,
To write about her with sweet songs and poetry.
But it shocked me when my pencil began to write for me,
And took my hand about, and (I fear) made me write poorly.
The girl asked me what I’d written with eyes so starry,
And she grabbed for my paper, but I said I was sorry.
She pouted, “But what’s it about?”, and I faked a smiley,
And said, “Wickedness. Now please leave,” quite slyly.
But she grabbed it fast, and I felt a little doozy,
As she read those naughty words and looked a little woozy.
I watched her run a-crying, while the paper fluttered spryly,
And I picked up the small sheet, and read a little dryly,
“The end.”
She was a spunky little thing, when she came to me.
She cocked her little head, her pert nose raised in glory,
And demanded so sweetly that I must write her a story.
I raised my head humbly and considered slowly,
When she snapped her fingers and declared, “Promptly!”
Then she folded up her hands and smiled sweetly,
And she batted an eyelash at my papers discreetly.
As if to say, “I know this story will be all about me!”
But still the lass was wee, and was curious to see,
How expressly words could capture her inexpressible beauty,
And aptly fill long sonnets with the extent of her humility.
So I took my pen to paper, that I might be free,
To write about her with sweet songs and poetry.
But it shocked me when my pencil began to write for me,
And took my hand about, and (I fear) made me write poorly.
The girl asked me what I’d written with eyes so starry,
And she grabbed for my paper, but I said I was sorry.
She pouted, “But what’s it about?”, and I faked a smiley,
And said, “Wickedness. Now please leave,” quite slyly.
But she grabbed it fast, and I felt a little doozy,
As she read those naughty words and looked a little woozy.
I watched her run a-crying, while the paper fluttered spryly,
And I picked up the small sheet, and read a little dryly,
“The end.”
The Tiniest Teacher
A little lady bug on the wall of my kitchen sink caught my eye as I let the hot water run.
Originally doomed to washing dishes, I found a strange joy in setting out to eliminate the pest of interest. I led the faucet over to his resting place, and viciously squirted the contented intruder to the bottom of the sink. I felt a small measure of satisfaction as it squirmed helplessly among the valleys of the sink mat. Dumb bug shouldn’t be in the house anyway.
A little voice whispered unexpectedly in my head and asked me if I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be that bug. I calmly and quickly told my mite of a conscience to stop bugging me. But I looked down just as quickly, and couldn’t help that I humbly saw myself in that bug. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it? I’m going around finding things in common with a bug. But I couldn’t help paralleling my mistakes with the little bugs first mistake of entering my kitchen and second mistake of getting in my sink and in my way.
How many times have I found myself doing something I shouldn’t and before I know it, I’m lost in the forbidden house of my mistakes. It’s a horrible feeling being faced with the consequences that you never thought would catch up with you.
I turned off the water quickly and watched the pool around the bug drain into nothingness. I heard the gurgle of the sink as it swallowed all but the struggling ladybug. It surprised me to see it still hanging on to the dish mat, and the voice in me whispered again to see if I couldn’t imagine myself desperately hanging onto hope when I knew I’d messed up bad and had no one to turn to.
I pityingly reached a finger into the sink, and waited for the bug to crawl onto the flesh of dry freedom. But the bug took a different path, rounding my finger, and barely avoiding a pot hole in the mat. I took another finger and commandingly placed it in front of the him, and was amazed to see that he preferred to detour into a pot hole, rather than accept my once-in-a-life-time mercy. I placed my finger directly in front of the bug, and was pleased to see him struggle up from the valley and onto my finger. A pretty spunky bug if you ask me. He, helpless in my hands, resigned himself from the dish mat’s valley to the steady slope of my finger. I took him outside, gently released him onto a stone in the garden, and felt immense satisfaction at my good deed. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about the audacity of that voice to compare me to a bug. It was hardly a professional evaluation. But it still made me think.
People are funny. We all mess up, and then when someone does something a little dumber than us, we all look at them like somehow we are far above making that same mistake.
We get into some of life’s worst virtual houses and open the door to a world of consequences. And when we are washed away with guilt, it seems there is no one to turn to. But as we struggle through the valley’s of our chosen detour, there is One above, who is offering a steady hand of mercy. No one deserves to be rescued from their sin. But God still offers a way of escape.
Most people will gladly look down that sink at the hurting individual and think, “Hah, they deserve it. Let them wallow in their own mess.” But we are all in the same sink, a dish-washing opportunity away from meeting our own just deserves.
I don’t know how many times I’ve dipped as low as I can go, until I finally look up to Jesus, and give it all over to Him. He is always there for me, just like he is always there for you. Never lose hope. If you think He’s trying to kill you, let me assure you he’s nothing like me. If he was, we’d all be in a heap of hot water.
I know a guy right now, who messed up big and really regrets it. I’ve been like everyone else and looked down on him. I’ve treated him like dirt. Ironic: a bug treating someone like dirt.
But now, as I think on it, I know I was wrong. Wrong to doom him forever to a life of mistakes. Wrong to lift myself up and tell myself he deserved going down with his bad choices.
Everybody messes up, and at one point or another in our lives, every one of us gets burned, but no one - NO ONE is beyond hope. The more mistakes you make, the more mercy God offers.
I can’t be glad for my friend when he goes down. I can only listen to Christ in me, and offer my hand, or a finger if it helps, and hope he’ll take it. I have not lost hope in him. I only lost my faith in Him.
It’s rather humbling to realize that I needed the tiniest of teachers - a simple bug to help point my self-righteous eyes to the real Judge in life. If He can have mercy on me, He can have mercy on anyone.
So wherever you are in life, look up, have faith, and from one bug to another - even in darkest of times, never give up.
Originally doomed to washing dishes, I found a strange joy in setting out to eliminate the pest of interest. I led the faucet over to his resting place, and viciously squirted the contented intruder to the bottom of the sink. I felt a small measure of satisfaction as it squirmed helplessly among the valleys of the sink mat. Dumb bug shouldn’t be in the house anyway.
A little voice whispered unexpectedly in my head and asked me if I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be that bug. I calmly and quickly told my mite of a conscience to stop bugging me. But I looked down just as quickly, and couldn’t help that I humbly saw myself in that bug. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it? I’m going around finding things in common with a bug. But I couldn’t help paralleling my mistakes with the little bugs first mistake of entering my kitchen and second mistake of getting in my sink and in my way.
How many times have I found myself doing something I shouldn’t and before I know it, I’m lost in the forbidden house of my mistakes. It’s a horrible feeling being faced with the consequences that you never thought would catch up with you.
I turned off the water quickly and watched the pool around the bug drain into nothingness. I heard the gurgle of the sink as it swallowed all but the struggling ladybug. It surprised me to see it still hanging on to the dish mat, and the voice in me whispered again to see if I couldn’t imagine myself desperately hanging onto hope when I knew I’d messed up bad and had no one to turn to.
I pityingly reached a finger into the sink, and waited for the bug to crawl onto the flesh of dry freedom. But the bug took a different path, rounding my finger, and barely avoiding a pot hole in the mat. I took another finger and commandingly placed it in front of the him, and was amazed to see that he preferred to detour into a pot hole, rather than accept my once-in-a-life-time mercy. I placed my finger directly in front of the bug, and was pleased to see him struggle up from the valley and onto my finger. A pretty spunky bug if you ask me. He, helpless in my hands, resigned himself from the dish mat’s valley to the steady slope of my finger. I took him outside, gently released him onto a stone in the garden, and felt immense satisfaction at my good deed. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about the audacity of that voice to compare me to a bug. It was hardly a professional evaluation. But it still made me think.
People are funny. We all mess up, and then when someone does something a little dumber than us, we all look at them like somehow we are far above making that same mistake.
We get into some of life’s worst virtual houses and open the door to a world of consequences. And when we are washed away with guilt, it seems there is no one to turn to. But as we struggle through the valley’s of our chosen detour, there is One above, who is offering a steady hand of mercy. No one deserves to be rescued from their sin. But God still offers a way of escape.
Most people will gladly look down that sink at the hurting individual and think, “Hah, they deserve it. Let them wallow in their own mess.” But we are all in the same sink, a dish-washing opportunity away from meeting our own just deserves.
I don’t know how many times I’ve dipped as low as I can go, until I finally look up to Jesus, and give it all over to Him. He is always there for me, just like he is always there for you. Never lose hope. If you think He’s trying to kill you, let me assure you he’s nothing like me. If he was, we’d all be in a heap of hot water.
I know a guy right now, who messed up big and really regrets it. I’ve been like everyone else and looked down on him. I’ve treated him like dirt. Ironic: a bug treating someone like dirt.
But now, as I think on it, I know I was wrong. Wrong to doom him forever to a life of mistakes. Wrong to lift myself up and tell myself he deserved going down with his bad choices.
Everybody messes up, and at one point or another in our lives, every one of us gets burned, but no one - NO ONE is beyond hope. The more mistakes you make, the more mercy God offers.
I can’t be glad for my friend when he goes down. I can only listen to Christ in me, and offer my hand, or a finger if it helps, and hope he’ll take it. I have not lost hope in him. I only lost my faith in Him.
It’s rather humbling to realize that I needed the tiniest of teachers - a simple bug to help point my self-righteous eyes to the real Judge in life. If He can have mercy on me, He can have mercy on anyone.
So wherever you are in life, look up, have faith, and from one bug to another - even in darkest of times, never give up.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
People As We Know Them
Well, today was muggy but beautiful. I found myself washing trays this morning and thinking, "I am not even using 10% of my brain capacity doing this." So I began talking with myself, to get some cerebral juices flowing. Incidentally I had quite the conversation with myself, but at one point I got stuck because I couldn't think of what I wanted to say. I was trying to imagine myself as a 90 year old woman, and I was wondering if I would have lost my mind by then. Then I added (to clarify for myself),
"But this is only metaphorically speaking... Is it metaphorical? No... That's not the word I want. What's that one word? I used to say it all the time..." It bugged me and bugged me, until I waylaid one of my managers and he helped me out.
"Hypothetically speaking."
"Thank you so much! Hypothetically speaking."
He looked at me oddly and I continued to humbly wipe trays. Have you ever had that happen to you? Where you just...can't...remember? Or worse - a song is going through your head and you keep humming it and you can't figure out where it's from. That's pretty much the worst thing that can happen to you, because it's easy to explain a word that you can't think of, but it's a lot more humbling to try to hum the song swimming around in your head (especially if you get all the lyrics wrong, and the person just looks at you, like, "O-kay....") I hate that when someone looks at me like I'm wierd. It really is interesting to me, though, how some of the wierdest people in the world consider everybody else wierd. (Hopefully that doesn't come back to bite me-lol.)
Speaking of forgetfulness, my whole family has been asking each other all day, "So, have you heard the news about Brett Favre? You know... how he had is officially last day on Lambeau Field today." Pretty sure I heard that on the radio like twice, and then my mom told me about it as she read it on the internet, and then my dad just asked my mom if she heard the news. What's funnier yet, is that each time I heard it "announced" it was as though each person "announcing it" had breaking news and they were the first to share it. "Did you know..." People make me laugh (which means I have an ongoing affair of amusement with myself).
Did you know that the study of people is called 'anthropology'? I knew that, I just thought I would make sure you did. I should major in 'anthropology' instead of 'journalism'. It's just that I find both the study of people and their effect on the world so interesting, I can't help but write about both. It's not that I'm a young, fresh, wet-behind-the-ears intern who is exhaustingly excited about intricate political affairs. No. I am a person who happens to be young and happens to be interested in the things going on around me. If I happen to live in America, and my country happens to be winning a war in a foreign country, well, then I find that interesting. And... if my coworker begins complaining about a customer, or my mom confesses to me how many chips she ate in one day, well, that's interesting too. (Granted, it get's a little boring if someone talks about how 'good' so and so is. That doesn't interest me. Give me blood, betrayal, and sarcasm any day.)
I think it was yesterday that I was writing something down about myself that was horribly conceited (and I quote), "I marvel that I can both observe and interact with my fellow man so well". That's like ASKING to get jinxed. And, yes, today I was completely uninterested in conversing with customer after customer, saying the same old thing to each uninterested person.
ME: "Hi!" (Said brightly for emphasis), "How you doing?" (Joey style)
THEM: "Yeah, I'm doing good, good. Real good. And you?" (Shutup, and give me my food all ready)
ME: "Well, I'm doing well, thank you. It's a beautiful day!"
THEM: (silence)
ME: "Well, your sandwich will be out in a little bit, but until then you can decide what you would like on your sandwich. Did you know whether you would like to eat here or to go?"
THEM: "Yeah, to go. I'll take (and the rambling ensues)."
See, I've discovered that if I try to save time and say the exact same thing to every customer, not every customer responds the same. You may say that all they want is their sandwich, but that is rarely true. People (myself included) really do want to be treated like they matter. Thus, I must prove my individual ability to make every customers' sandwich... over, and over, and over, and over again. So, I should probably not do what I did today - and totally bomb the whole "I care about you, what can I get for you" customer service thing.
I did see one of my old metivante customers today. That was really pleasant! He was actually nice, AND he asked how I was doing! I had to hurry and go put trays away, but I felt all warm and skippy when I walked. It's really nice to feel loved and cared about.
There. That's my people study. And I conclude that if everybody is just like me, well, they honestly just want people to treat them with respect, treat them with understanding, treat them with something other than a company line, and treat them with love.
Thus, a sandwich made with love still applies. Stop looking at me like I'm wierd.
I hate that, remember?
"But this is only metaphorically speaking... Is it metaphorical? No... That's not the word I want. What's that one word? I used to say it all the time..." It bugged me and bugged me, until I waylaid one of my managers and he helped me out.
"Hypothetically speaking."
"Thank you so much! Hypothetically speaking."
He looked at me oddly and I continued to humbly wipe trays. Have you ever had that happen to you? Where you just...can't...remember? Or worse - a song is going through your head and you keep humming it and you can't figure out where it's from. That's pretty much the worst thing that can happen to you, because it's easy to explain a word that you can't think of, but it's a lot more humbling to try to hum the song swimming around in your head (especially if you get all the lyrics wrong, and the person just looks at you, like, "O-kay....") I hate that when someone looks at me like I'm wierd. It really is interesting to me, though, how some of the wierdest people in the world consider everybody else wierd. (Hopefully that doesn't come back to bite me-lol.)
Speaking of forgetfulness, my whole family has been asking each other all day, "So, have you heard the news about Brett Favre? You know... how he had is officially last day on Lambeau Field today." Pretty sure I heard that on the radio like twice, and then my mom told me about it as she read it on the internet, and then my dad just asked my mom if she heard the news. What's funnier yet, is that each time I heard it "announced" it was as though each person "announcing it" had breaking news and they were the first to share it. "Did you know..." People make me laugh (which means I have an ongoing affair of amusement with myself).
Did you know that the study of people is called 'anthropology'? I knew that, I just thought I would make sure you did. I should major in 'anthropology' instead of 'journalism'. It's just that I find both the study of people and their effect on the world so interesting, I can't help but write about both. It's not that I'm a young, fresh, wet-behind-the-ears intern who is exhaustingly excited about intricate political affairs. No. I am a person who happens to be young and happens to be interested in the things going on around me. If I happen to live in America, and my country happens to be winning a war in a foreign country, well, then I find that interesting. And... if my coworker begins complaining about a customer, or my mom confesses to me how many chips she ate in one day, well, that's interesting too. (Granted, it get's a little boring if someone talks about how 'good' so and so is. That doesn't interest me. Give me blood, betrayal, and sarcasm any day.)
I think it was yesterday that I was writing something down about myself that was horribly conceited (and I quote), "I marvel that I can both observe and interact with my fellow man so well". That's like ASKING to get jinxed. And, yes, today I was completely uninterested in conversing with customer after customer, saying the same old thing to each uninterested person.
ME: "Hi!" (Said brightly for emphasis), "How you doing?" (Joey style)
THEM: "Yeah, I'm doing good, good. Real good. And you?" (Shutup, and give me my food all ready)
ME: "Well, I'm doing well, thank you. It's a beautiful day!"
THEM: (silence)
ME: "Well, your sandwich will be out in a little bit, but until then you can decide what you would like on your sandwich. Did you know whether you would like to eat here or to go?"
THEM: "Yeah, to go. I'll take (and the rambling ensues)."
See, I've discovered that if I try to save time and say the exact same thing to every customer, not every customer responds the same. You may say that all they want is their sandwich, but that is rarely true. People (myself included) really do want to be treated like they matter. Thus, I must prove my individual ability to make every customers' sandwich... over, and over, and over, and over again. So, I should probably not do what I did today - and totally bomb the whole "I care about you, what can I get for you" customer service thing.
I did see one of my old metivante customers today. That was really pleasant! He was actually nice, AND he asked how I was doing! I had to hurry and go put trays away, but I felt all warm and skippy when I walked. It's really nice to feel loved and cared about.
There. That's my people study. And I conclude that if everybody is just like me, well, they honestly just want people to treat them with respect, treat them with understanding, treat them with something other than a company line, and treat them with love.
Thus, a sandwich made with love still applies. Stop looking at me like I'm wierd.
I hate that, remember?
Friday, August 1, 2008
Wonderbar
I loved my Friday! I just had a really good day. Granted, I’ve been working at Grace’s again this week and I had to say goodbye to all my old customers AGAIN today, but otherwise I just really enjoyed today. I can’t really put my finger on what it was, but I do know it was fun.
I love how I just went outside and picked a handful of raspberry’s directly from the bush in my back yard. You have no idea how sweet and delicious a from-the-stem raspberry is - and how it melts in your mouth. It doesn’t get any fresher than that! I just feel so much like that raspberry…. Fresh.
Maybe this new fresh feeling I have is because Grace is having me try this new product of hers called ‘CYCLIC’. She insisted the product is ‘miracle working’ and so therefore I had no choice in the matter. A big box of the product came in the mail the other day and I opened it with unveiled curiosity. “Wow,” I said, handing the little bars of soap to her. “Look what the UPS guy just delivered!” She squealed and rummaged through the products, instructing me to display them nicely on our counter. She was so excited that it became pretty contagious. She was discussing the product with Jane, one of our regulars, and Jane and I were both becoming impressed with how “miracle working” it was supposed to be.
“Well, how much is it, Grace?” Jane asked.
“Eighty dollah,” she said without hesitation. My jaw dropped, and Jane was equally shocked. A bar of soap for 80 dollars! I would have found 8 dollars to be a bit high, but 80? Later, Grace checked and found out that the product that is supposed to sell for $80 has yet to come, and the bar of soap Jane and I had been looking at was actually $35. Still…
“It’s cleanser, not soap,” Grace kept correcting me. Still…
Then, Grace was REALLY nice and gave me a $10 sample bar of this cleanser to try for myself. Along with this bar, she told me to watch the CYCLIC promotional DVD. So I took the thing home and watched it. Almost the minute I started it, I wanted to laugh and post it on You Tube or something. It was a classic sales-promotional DVD that admitted at the very end (in very small print) that ‘some parts of this program have been dramatized via testimonials’.
It started with a leggy brunette who didn’t have an ounce of stage presence, but who did have a short green dress on that was 3 sizes too small. She smiled and began in her silky voice to tell her captive audience that she understood what it was like to want to look beautiful - because ALL women want to look beautiful! (I had a hard time imagining such a product gave her long legs a size 2 waist). She then flashed another dazzling smile and the screen shot out to take in all 245 pounds of a bald doctor who kept the exact same expression for the entire 5 minutes he talked about CYCLIC. There was an appropriately dull white background behind him - and maybe a palm plant or two. Next the screen shot through rapid pictures of a busy city area and an unknown person (probably the prior leggy brunette) interviewed countless women with flawless faces and asked them what they struggled with. Some of the questions asked were,
“How many products do you use now?”
And,
“Do you have body odor?”
These questions were posed to supposedly random women in a busy city street, and none of them batted an eyelash when it came to answering the questions.
Anyways, this product is supposed to do EVERYTHING. (Which, admittedly makes me skeptical.) It not only CAN, but WILL remove your makeup, reduce your acne, eliminate allergy rashes, reduce your calluses (which they spelled wrong in the pamphlet), take away foot odor, take away athletes foot, be used as underarm deodorizer, relieve you from itching skin (alert: mosquito bites!), and take away dandruff in your hair.
All of this is not so ridiculous if treated by a few different products, but to imagine one product handling them all? Well, I’ve never heard of it before. I have to admit it reminded me of that one commercial for, “Acne, Windows, and more.” Heh.
Well, then the leggy brunette gave another dazzling smile and she sat down gracefully on a couch and said, “And today we have with us…. (give me a name) Megan! Megan, it’s so fabulous to have you! I’m so glad to see you! Why don’t you tell the audience why you’re here today.” Now I am a very perceptive person when it comes to telling whether or not a person is genuine, and this brunette didn’t have a genuine bone (or brain) in her body.
Megan, on an opposing couch, adjusted her skirt and gave an equally ditzy smile and said, “Well, I am just so glad to be here,” there was a shared over-kill on the enthusiasm for them both. “I just wanted to say …” she breathed in passionately, “…to all you women out there… that all of your problems are over! This product….” I was laughing.
There were a few more interviews, in which one or two of the testimonials seemed more genuine and they actually had faces that looked like Grace’s. They looked smooth and supple and refreshed. I’m guessing those were the people who had not been chosen to dramatize their testimonial. Because, who out there would be willing to go on a DVD program and talk extensively about what HORRIBLE body odor they had until CYCLIC was applied to the right places? Right. I’m with you.
Basically there were a couple more scenes with the bald doctor and then the horrible DVD ended. I told Grace she should get her own testimonials. I encouraged, “You’ve got the right idea with forcing me to try the product. If it works on ME, you can take my picture and then make your own DVD/pamphlet.” There. That’s genuine. Then I’LL be the leggy brunette, and the whole world of CYCLIC customers will doubtless find me irresistibly genuine.
That of course is if I like the product. So far so good. I'm thinking if I do like it, I will call it Wonderbar, and take on a German accent just for kicks.
Anyways, so what else happened today? The security guard in our building had a rather rare bird jump in his hand while he was watering the flowers in front of our building. I learned this because he came into the shop to tell us about the little bird. I guess the bird had blue bands around its ankles and so my security guard friend and the manager of the building had to hold the bird upside down to read the number on the bands. (I can only picture a comical scene.) My security guard friend called the number and the guy who answered was almost in tears when he heard what bird had been found, and began immediately telling him how to care for the bird until someone could come pick it up. Come to find out, the pigeon sitting in a bucket in my building was one of the only females of its kind surviving and was worth 150 thousand dollars! What are the odds, huh? First a miracle bar of soap and then an ugly, expensive bird? I told my friend, “What are you still doing here? Why aren’t you running out that door with that bird and putting it on eBay?” Anyways, I got to pet the poor lame thing. I thought, “Hey, not bad! How awesome would it be to raise these things? And the money's not bad either…”
I went bowling! That’s rare for me. Bowling make me very insecure because I always get excited that I might make a strike and then the dumb ball goes in the gutter again and I have to turn around and face everybody’s polite faces. I hate that! But today I went with just my family, and I had so much fun! At the end I handed back my ugly bowling shoes to the bowling guy and he said, “How’d you do?” I smiled and crowed victoriously, “80! The best I’ve ever done!” That made my brother laugh because he considers himself very suave when it comes to bowling. He of course, won with ease, and I had to struggle with defeat. I really hate losing.
The last exciting thing that I did today was that I went to a Chinese buffet with my brother and I ate like NO American food! (another first for me). I tried a little bit of almost everything -- I even cracked into a lobster leg and tried to eat it. I was very proud of myself. The only problem with my dining experience was my bad fork. They gave me a bent fork that dug into my mouth funny every time I tried to eat with it. The only other options I had were either chopsticks or my knife. I was trying to eat rice with a chop stick and that was horrible, and I was tired of my brother laughing at me, so I used my knife. Why other option did I have? Besides, the thing was so dull that I was in no danger of cutting myself from eating the deliciously gooey pudding rice with a knife. But you should’ve seen the face of my Chinese waitress! She had a hard time with English and had been smiling politely all evening, but when she went by my table and saw me eating with my knife, she gave this guttural, “Oh!” and her oriental eyes went wide with shock. It was so funny! And I had forgotten I was even eating with a knife and just smiled at her. About five minutes later I realized why she had given me that shocked expression, hah, and I just started laughing and laughing, replaying that expression over and over in my mind. When I told my brother, he started laughing too, especially since rice and fruit began spilling out of my mouth. Then the guy in the table behind us like sneezed and there was like this big explosion and we started laughing harder. We ended the evening with fortune cookies.
“You took my fortune cookie,” I accused, and he shrugged cheerfully. I really said that as insurance, just in case I didn’t like the fortune I got. I ended up getting the better fortune, though, and when my brother asked to read it, he traded with me. “You’re right,” he explained, “I did get your fortune cookie.”
Anyways, that was my Friday.
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