Picnic Lunch

Yesterday for lunch, a coworker friend and I walked to a deli close by, picked up some food and walked to this spot. Then we spread a blanket and had a nice picnic lunch. It was a gorgeous day.

We talked and talked. We talked about all kinds of stuff. But mostly techie stuff. Blogs, websites, twitter, facebook, tiny url, Content Management Systems etc... etc... We shared ideas and gave each other cool tips. And did what most girl friends do. Gave each other moral support and encouragement.

What baffles me is this. Why is it that my girl friends don't see in them what I see in them? Why don't women recognize their own potential? To be honest, I am the worst example of this. If someone says nice photo, I brush them off. They were just being nice to me. Or even polite. I actually gave up photography for years because I felt that I just wasn't good enough.

Sometimes I don't care. If Mythos looks at my beautiful Sand and Foam photo and comments, "was that halocegenic oatmeal?" I just laugh and send him a nasty email. "Get some new glasses will you?" And then I laugh some more.

And that was my 300th post. Yeah!

Spike Heel

and my five inch spike heel
rammed
into his groin
at first I saw a flash of surprise
then pain
and more pain as he doubled over
i smiled and said
life is short
get over it
and walked out
slamming the door behind me.

___________________________________________________________________


I have a confession to make. I write angry poems. Whenever I get really angry at someone, but I can’t really do anything about it, I slam them with poetry. I ram my five inch spike heel into them, I pour coffee on them. I do all kinds of deliciously wicked things to them. It is simply fabulous!

Don’t get me wrong. I am not a violent person. I’ve never really done anything violent in my life. These are just my fantasies that I conjure up into a poem. And the people I write about deserve this. These are people who know how to sexually harass women at work but know how not to get caught. Because there are no witnesses. They know how to play with HR. You are helpless. No one would believe you. Not even your close friends.

It helps me deal with them. For some reason or the other, I can’t really confront them about the issues. So I fantasize about them. The poems are cheesy, corny and utterly void of any literary value. In fact, they take up literary space. But I cling to them. They are my emotional crutches.

I use my muse to vent out. It is cathartic.

Be careful how you treat people. You never know which one is a closet writer. And who will write a tell all novel featuring you.

Man versus Woman

Here is an email thread based on a very old joke. I don't know who wrote the original joke or I would certainly give credit.

A female coworker sent this email to me. She made the mistake of sending it to some man also. He made a mistake of responding.

Woman's Email:


After the long months of cold and winter, we will soon be coming up to summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking as it's the only type of cooking a real man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.

When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion: Routine...

1. The woman buys the food.
2. The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.
3. The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.
4. THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.
5. The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
6. The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.
7. THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
8. The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces and brings them to the table.
9. After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes. And most important of all...
10. Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
11. The man asks the woman how she enjoyed "her night off." And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women.... There, I hope this will help you get the season off on the right foot.
    
    

Man's Response

Think about it, what is more dangerous? Mastering fire, or setting a table? The reality is that all the work is performed by the women because the women caused the work! Here is the same list if there was no woman ?:

1. Man buys meat.
   a) You do not need anything else…..
2. Man laughs at the idea of making salad, refer to 1)a)
3. Man rejoices at how good idea of buying pre-marinated meat was.
4. Man grabs fork, knife, Stubs basting sauce, and beer ?
5. Man Places meat on the grill (lovingly) as friends arrive with more beer.
6. Man grabs paper plates and hands them to friends.
7. Man and Friends grab meat off the grill and eat.
8. Man and Friends help digestion of fantastic meal with more beer.
9. Man looks at the spotless kitchen and thinks "I should grill more often!"
10. Everyone praises the man.
11. Everyone is happy.

Woman's Response:


Perhaps evolution has been one-sided, or gender biased?

At 45…

I’ve always been a girlie girl. I was raised to be a delicate little flower supporting her man by hosting parties and chit-chatting with all kinds of different people. I was raised to be a politician’s wife. Unintentionally… but a product of my environment. I knew how to manage conversations. I knew how to charm and woo people.

So at 45, how did I end up doing what I do? A secure job in Corporate America. A successful career as a technical writer and a manager. Well… I don’t have answers to that. I still struggle trying to suppress the artistic, rebellious, and bohemian in me every single day.

I have 3 very significant men in my life. My husband and my 2 sons. When they asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, I told them I wanted to go deep sea fishing. My choices were plenty. I could have selected massage on the beach, a salt scrub, or a day at the spa. But I wanted to do something where everyone had a great time. It was a milestone for me and we all had accomplished as a family.

So fishing we went. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. The fishing trip was fantastic. Everyone caught a fish although they were too small to keep. I pay premium prices to pay smaller fishes but when you go deep sea fishing, the rules are different. We were all happy. Until the accident.

Somehow the fishing hook got entangled in my hand. It pierced my left hand. And the captain had to do some fine operations to pull it out. He said I was a trooper but I felt like a wimp. My entire family felt sorry for me. I had to get a tetanus shot. But it was a valuable lesson for me. And I reflected a lot. Here is what I know today:

Give in to yourself!

If you are not an athletic type, don’t play around with a deep sea fishing hook. IT HURTS. Read a book instead and watch everyone else catch the fish. Ooh and aah at everyone who catches a fish. Everyone loves a compliment and trust me, the captain of the boat will appreciate you for refraining from activities you have no business participating in.
So what you if don’t know how to change the oil in the car? Or change a flat tire? Why do you need to prove to the world that you am a macho woman? Remember to ask for help. Nicely. Even if you are 80, standing by the roadside with a flat tire, call for help. Ask strangers. Everyone wants good karma. I know that I’ll be that 80 year old lady striking a fancy pose just so someone stops to change the tire. Even if they stop so other drivers are spared of the visual abuse of a granny with boobs to her knees acting like she is in Madonna’s Vogue video. Bravo to all women who can change a tire. I am sorry if I am letting you down. Moving on with my life, it is best that I accept my limitations.