Saturday, May 31, 2014


My best girlfriend and I coined a term the other night while texting back and forth about issues with a-holes at work.  Well, turns out we didn't coin it.  It's on Urban Dictionary. 

The term is no-pology.

Here's how it works:

Jane: I can't believe you told your best friend my is sister a whore! Where do you get off saying that?

Dick: I'm sorry your sister is a whore.

BAM - classic no-pology.

Basically, it's like this:

When someone apologizes, not for what they said/did wrong, but for how you feel about they said or did.


"I'm sorry you're a pussy whose feelings get hurt when I'm a complete and total asshole."

I'll close with this:

Have you ever been told that you look like a llama?


Wednesday, May 28, 2014

One time, in college...

So, when I was in college, I was in a sorority.  Technically, I am still a sister.  It's not just for four years, they'll tell you.

Anyway, that's one reason I found the recent incident in Isla Vista so disturbing.  Because although we are somewhat elusive, exclusive and snotty, the sorority girl, on the whole, is just another college kid trying to get through four years of BS just like every other student on campus.

And being in a sorority doesn't guarantee you'll never feel lonely or awkward.  I felt both of those things many, many times.  In fact, there's nothing worse than feeling lonely and awkward surrounded by 200 beautiful confident sisters.

But then, I'm not the type of specimen to whom this Rodgers kid would have been attracted.  Or felt entitled to.  He didn't like chubby girls or brunettes.

I know this because I read his manifesto.

I wanted to know what we women had "done" to this kid to push him off the deep end.

Here's the thing.  In 144 pages, he never says, "I asked her out and she said no".  Never once.  Now, if you're getting actively rejected, that sucks.  It does.  I've asked out guys and been told no thanks.  It happens, and it hurts, and you get over it.

But I never sat there thinking, "I should have guys paying attention to me because I'm all that and a bag of chips."

You have to put yourself out there.  Smiling at a rando in class and not getting a warm response isn't putting yourself out there.

It's going to be tempting for people to lay blame on something for this.  I'm sure since he played a lot of video games, they'll come under scrutiny.  It wasn't the games.  I can assure you that they kept him occupied and off the streets so that it didn't happen sooner.

It wasn't sorority girls, who, to be fair, aren't put on this earth to stroke the ego of every man.

Me and my Big Sis, Amy.  Don't we look vapid and inaccessible?  No, we don't.
Is it his parents' fault?  Maybe a little, but it seems like they did plenty to try and help him/stop the madness. He constantly berates his father for putting his stepmother before him.  His mother overindulges him, but eventually gives him some tough love.  They don't seem like horrible parents.  Mad props to his stepmother for trying to keep it real.

Do we blame his shrinks/life coaches/socialization counselors (seriously, read the manifesto)?  Maybe a little.  But this kid was a Grade A manipulator.  He fooled the police into thinking he was a nice, polite boy.  I'm sure he lied to his therapists repeatedly.

Do we blame the system for allowing someone of his fragile mental state to purchase a gun?  In my opinion, yes.  YES!  But then, if he fooled his therapists, couldn't he fool a gun seller?  Probably.

So... then what?

As usual, The Onion nailed it.


Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Jiggety Jig

Good news people!  I'm home for a whole week,  and then another after that.  What can I say?

Tomorrow, my futon arrives.  I couldn't be happier.  I started rearranging furniture last night.

Tonight I'll sweep and vacuum the front room.  And tomorrow... FUTON!!!!!

It's the little things.

Or this case, a bigger little thing.

I'm working from home tomorrow, and my primary goal is to get my expenses done.  I have eight reports to do, and it's going to hurt a little.   Or, a lot.

I need to work on getting some graduation cards for some of the kids on Matt's side.

I found a Father's Day card yesterday, so perfect for my Dad that I bought it.  Yes, I know.

But the greeting card industry does such a shitty job with Father's Day, I had to reward Avanti Press for their excellence:

The inside reads, "Happy Father's Day...From The Family".

I have no idea what I'm going to do with it.

And yes, I know I need help.


Sunday, May 25, 2014

You may want to not read this...

I was thinking this weekend, I wish Dad had written me a letter.  Something with some final instructions, good advice, etc.

But since he didn't, I'll write it for him.  This is the letter I wish he'd written me.

Dear Allie,

I know that you will miss me when I am gone.  We had a good run, and I'm glad for all the time we did have together.  I know that this will be hard on you.  Don't grieve too much.  I'm not in any pain, and as I told you when my mother died, "Life is for the living."

Know that I loved you very much, and I had a lot of fun with you.  You were a good daughter, and I appreciate everything you did for me; especially at the end.  I may not have been able to tell you how much you meant to me, but I know you knew.

I know that you'll take good care of your mother, but I hope that you will learn to take care of yourself.

Try hard to get healthy and stay healthy.  Make that the priority in your life.

I think you should try and get another dog as soon as possible.  I wish I could find you one like I did with Lola, but you're up to the task.  You need a dog.  Take some time off work if you have to and get a dog.

I know that you'll be looking for signs that I'm watching over you - and I don't know that there will be any.  But take comfort in the things we shared and loved together; birds, travel, cooking. I may not be with you in spirit, but let happy memories comfort you.

Your meatloaf was the last real meal that I ate, and it was excellent - you were a good student.  I hope that most of what you learned from me was good and useful. I wish I had taught you more about the mountains, but I think you have the foundation to learn anything that you want.   Let Matt handle the repairs, though - he's just better with that.  It's OK - you try; and that's worth plenty.

Remember that I love you and I believe in you.  Be happy; I want that for you more than anything.


PS - Yes, you're right.  And you know what I'm talking about.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Cabin Fever

Sometimes when I'm anxious about something, I think things like, "If I can just get through the next X hours, it'll all be over."

I'm not looking forward to the drive today.  I'm tired.  I could use about a week of sleep.

But I'll push through and it'll be great.  And in 8 hours it'll all be over

Work day in the mountains tomorrow.  I always dread it, then end up having a blast.  This is my first visit since Dad had the stroke.  I saw a few of these people at the funeral.

In 28 hours, it'll all be over.

I am looking forward to a trip to IKEA.  That's huge.

And once I get back to Nashville - two weeks at home!  YES!

And then I can get some rest, get my new futon and get a toehold on this whole new diet/exercise regimen.

Ah, yes - the liver ultrasound came back.  I have fat on my liver. Which is what happens when you force open the goose's beak and shove lots of fatty food in there.

Time to de-foie gras.


Friday, May 16, 2014

Balmer, hon.

So, at the moment, it's 2:45 AM and I'm in an airport, in Baltimore..  Why?  Well, they cancelled my flight to Nashville and rebooked  me at  6AM.  So, I didn't have much time for a room, and there wasn't one available anyway.

And I'm eating Twizzlers.  I'm also listening to a recorded Town Hall meeting where the president of my company appears to be spewing buzzwords.

Apparently, we have Synergies with the LPGA... who knew that lady golfers were in our wheelhouse?

Because if you're killing time in an airport with nothing open for another hour or so, and you can't sleep because there's a whole slew of loud assholes partying in a bar that's closed about four gates down, why not just kick it with your laptop and earbuds?

I cannot wait to get home, get a hot shower and a power nap.  I still kind of need to go into the office because I have to put together a document for a customer who needs to quit humping my leg - that expression is courtesy my boss.

Of note, I celebrated my seventh anniversary with my company this week.  That's nearly a half century in dog years.

I'll celebrate with Twizzlers.



Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Hold the onions.

So back in February, I went to the doctor because my blood pressure was through the roof.   She put me on drugs, and wanted me to report back to her.

It took about a month to get the meds adjusted, and then the whole Dad thing went down, and with it, my medicinal regimen.

So once I got back to Nashville, I went back to the doctor to fess up, and check in.

She wanted to do blood work.

And that, really, is where it starts.

So, as it happens, my liver enzymes are... not where they should be - they're elevated.  Like, hella elevated.  About three times higher than normal in one case.

We did a re-test to see if that was a fluke.  Nope.

Then we did a second test to see if it was Hepatitis A, B or C.

The correct answer was D, none of the above.  I was advised in the interim to avoid Tylenol and alcohol.  I can't say I was completely compliant in Denver, but I have been good as gold since.

So now, it looks like I'm going to have an ultrasound on my liver.  

I'm fairly certain that I just need to lose some damn weight and it'll take care of itself.  That's not to say I haven't been Googling "liver damage" and trying to play Interwebs Doctor.

I need to stop before I freak myself out.

Which I've already done.

Of course, I still brought in cake this morning.

Mmm, pink and healthy.

BTW - I haven't actually heard from the doctor - I just read the test results on the Patient Portal.

Which should be called the IMpatient Portal.  Well, my funny bone isn't damaged.


Monday, May 12, 2014

Here's the thing...

Well, after a long, productive, sleep-filled weekend, I have two days in the office before I board a plane.  I don't know what to do about that.  It's ridiculous.

I made Matt's colleagues a cake last night - I have the goods to make one for my folks tonight.  I want to see how his was first.  It's a recipe I kind of made up, using box mix and fresh strawberries.

I have no idea when I got this boring.  But damned if I'm not boring.

The president of the Mothership is coming to have a town hall meeting with us this week - I won't be here, but you know my ass is clenched in anticipation.

In other news...

We bought a futon  -  which means I now need to get the living room in shape to house the damn thing.

And, let's see.

I have nothing.  I am so damn boring.

Pittsburgh tomorrow.  Then Seattle next week.

Next month... Raleigh, Phoenix... and points north, south, west and east.


Thursday, May 8, 2014

Another story about Dad

Once upon a time, my parents suggested we all spend Christmas 1999 in Jamaica.  Laura and Tom came from California, Dad, Mom and I flew from Atlanta.

We stayed at a private home that was located in a resort, a rather famous one in Jamaica you've probably heard of.

Here's a hint.

So, Christmas day, it's just me, Mom and Dad - Tom and Laura will arrive the next day.  As a Christmas present, Dad pays for me to get my hair braided on the beach.  That night, we realize we have not done anything about supper, so we go to the resort hotel.

Now, at a couples resort, asking for a table for three is going to raise suspicion, but that's how we roll.

We ended up back at the resort for breakfast, and at some point to swim in the pool.

On our third day there, someone from the resort comes down to suss out if there's a family with kids staying in the house because someone said something to that effect.  I'm hiding in the kitchen listening to this.  We've been busted and it's on me.

Later that afternoon, I'm sitting out on the porch with my Dad and I start crying about it.  Not just because I got us busted, but because I'm single and feel unloved and unloveable.

Dad tells me the following, which I have never forgotten:

"Allison you are worth more to us than any free pork chop."

Sometimes I wish I had that recorded as a sound bite.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014


I'm emotionally all over the map.

I am at my customer's annual conference, and I am surrounded by love and support. But at the same time,  I'm feeling sad and insecure.

So, I go from high to low in minutes.  And the highs are great, but the lows are... shitty.

I need to start taking better care of myself.  Interestingly, I've been eating less on this trip, avoiding sweets (mostly), although, I have been drinking, which isn't smart.  But prickly pear margaritas are delicious and they make you feel invincible for a few minutes.

I don't know.  I'm sad.  I'm just sad.

But, all these people have been telling the VP of Sales that I'm wonderful.  If I'm so wonderful, why do I constantly feel like I'm in trouble?  Why do I feel so rotten on the inside?

See what I mean?  All over the map.


Monday, May 5, 2014

Keeping Track

Hey everyone!

I'm doing fine.  After a long few weeks on the road, I'm on the road.

But this week is different.  This week is highly social, with long stretches of quiet time. 

I'm in Denver for one of my major customers' annual safety conference.

We can dance if we want to.

And with that, shower and head down and make magic.