I love the people who work at my local post office. I really do. I mean, I love them, but I'm not IN LOVE with them. You get what I'm saying. The guys who work at the counter know me by name, which is quite endearing, and also helpful when there's a long line. They know that if I need to mail anything or buy stamps, I'll use the machine in the lobby, so if I'm in line it means I need to pick something up. After seeing me, and in between customers, they dip in the back to get the package, nod in my direction and hand it off to me, without saying anything besides, "Hi Julie! Here you go!"
It's pretty bad ass.
Once I had a huge box to mail and the machine wasn't working. Luckily, it wasn't busy that day so my friend & I were up to the counter in no time. My favorite counter guy greets me by name and we all chat as he's getting the box ready to ship for me. I ask about his grandkids and he asks me about my travels. As my friend & I walk back to my car, I said, "Isn't he the best? THAT'S how I like my postal workers!" and she replied, "Are you kidding? That's how I like my EVERYBODY!"
Such a good point. She's right. That's how I like my everybody, too.
Cut to today. I get one of those orange slips in my mailbox, telling me that there's a box for me at the post office. I see the mailman walking down the sidewalk delivering more mail. His truck is parked near my car, so I decide to wait outside for a few minutes to see if I can just get the box from him before he leaves with it.
On his way back, I see that it's not my regular postal delivery guy. He still greets me with a super-friendly smile & I hold up my orange slip, asking if it'd be ok to just give me the package or if I'd have to wait until the next day to pick it up at the post office.
As he opens the back of his truck to get it for me, this is how the conversation went (with a man I've never met before):
Me (not knowing where he's going with that question):"Uh, sure. Who DOESN'T like hibachi?"
Postman:"There's this great place downtown. It's called _________ (names the place). Ever been there?"
Me (STILL not knowing where he's going, but not wierded out):"I don't think so. Sounds familiar, though."
Postman:"We went there the other night, had steak & lobster. I got the $10 off birthday discount. See, most people don't even realize at ________( names the place) they'll give you a birthday discount. But they do. I like tellin' people that because we got steak AND lobster and they STILL gave us $10 off. You should have your boyfriend take you there on your birthday. It'll be our little secret."
Me (now understanding where he was going, and am utterly charmed by his enthusiasm in general):"Wow, I totally will. Happy birthday to you!"
Postman (winking):"Oh, it wasn't really my birthday!"
I love my local postal workers. I really, really do...
...and I'm looking forward to finding who my boyfriend will be in October so I can get the $10 birthday discount.
I think this is a pretty rock-solid way to go about finding that one* special person to spend a lifetime of happiness with. Maybe I shouldn't be revealing my secrets in such a public forum without charging money, but the hell with it. I'm in a giving mood!
1. Whenever I'm sketching something out--be it for a design idea or any reason at all-- or if somebody else is sketching something out/doodling, OR if I find myself playing Pictionary with a group of people--which happens more often than you'd think-- I will at some point blurt out, "Baby Fish Mouth!"**
2. I pause to see if anyone laughs.
3. If so, I find out if he's laughing because: a) those 3 words sound funny together but he doesn't know what it's from, b) he thinks I have a head injury, or c) because he actually knows what movie scene the phrase is from and thinks it's funny, too.
4. If "a": I reenact the scene, reveal the movie and wait for his eyes to glaze over. Usually doesn't take long once he knows what movie the quote is from. Usually at this point, the other females in the room start talking about how that movie changed their lives in every way possible and all the dudes tune out.
If "b": I'm certainly not going to have a future with a guy who laughs when he thinks someone is has a head injury! On to the next!
If "c": I marry that man.
Foolproof, right? Easy peasy lemon squeezy***!
"BABY FISH MOUTH!"
Fun fact: My other favorite line in that scene is, "Draw something resembling anything!****"
*Or, you know, whatever. Maybe you plan on spending your lifetime with several. I'm not judging you, Elizabeth Taylor. **I have been known to blurt out many movie quotes at all hours of the day in any situation. Single men, that is your cue to hit on me because obviously we have the same taste in movies.
***As said in the entertaining film, In the Loop, it's more like Difficult, Difficult, Lemon, Difficult!
****That one often gets tossed around by me & my graphic designer brethren as a benign insult during meetings with clients. Oh, designer inside jokes never get old!
Two of my very favorite people in the entire world happen to be married to each other. Emily is one of my college roommates and Mel is the best borrow-a-husband I've ever had. They don't make them like Mel anymore, or if they do, they don't make them anywhere near here! He's the gold-standard, I'm telling you. Then again, so is she. It's a perfect match!
Em was born & raised in Wisconsin and Mel was born & raised in Canada. They're really Californians, though. Just like them, their home is warm & beautiful and when I visit, I never want to leave. They're the kind of people who refer to the guest room as "your room", as in: "Come see us! Your room is waiting for you!" They probably say that to all of their out of town guests but it doesn't feel like it. It feels very much like I am their favorite person and that if I'm not staying in their house, "my" room gets sealed off until the day I return. Of course that isn't true, they are just the kind of people who make all of their friends feel like they are #1, and we all believe it.
This weekend, Mel updated his Facebook status (which he doesn't often do), and since they are known to vacation in exotic locations, I wanted to know where they were. This screen cap pretty much says it all:
C'mon. The man knows how I prefer to be welcomed, in any situation. Open arms & a large alcoholic drink! He totally gets me.
I wondered, when I went back to make that screen cap, if I might have already been enjoying a large alcoholic drink when I commented on Mel's status.
NOTE TO SELF: YOU HAVEN'T LIVED IN WISCONSIN SINCE COLLEGE, WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE ALREADY QUIT WISCONSIN*.
*Sausages from Wisconsin, on the other hand, I will never, ever quit. Ever.
I've already written about how my job has involved many pitch meetings for different products, and that I probably pay attention to commercials, slogans, and advertising in general more than the average person does. I think about what goes into a pitch meeting, and how I'm sure some advertising agencies must be amazed when a client goes with (and pays big money for) some half-baked or unintentionally hilarious idea.
For example, I was surprised by this product name and was saddened by this spokesperson/song, and I couldn't believe that this winter accessory actually made it into production. The last marketing campaign that caught my attention was way back in November, and it was True North's"extraordinary nutsnacks". I even asked my friends Spammon & Lindsey to be the official House of Jules extraordinary nutsnack taste-testers. You can read that post (and I highly recommend it, for the nutsnack comparison photos alone!) HERE.
Since that time, I haven't seen any glaringly awful or awesome product advertising, that is until this week when I saw this:
1. Yes, they are asking you to "upload your O-face*" so people can VOTE ON IT.
2. Not only do they want you to "upload your O-face*", but if you win, your O-face* will be featured in a national ad campaign. C'mon. Nobody wants to see that.
I'm guessing the nice people at Three-O Vodka told the female model to act like she walked into her own surprise party, and told the male model to act like he was being held up at gunpoint, giving a sad, new meaning to stick 'em up. I bet they just want everybody to think to themselves how easy it would be to win. Sneaky bastards.
I haven't really watched DWTS this season, but laughed myself off the couch last night when I saw Michael Flatley. I don't know WHY I laughed so hard, but I did. Maybe because I remember all the madness surrounding him when he was The Prince of Prance or whatever he called himself. I could Google it, but I like what I came up with better. Forever more, Michael Flatley will be known (at least to me) as The Prince of Prance.
The other day, I read this blurb on DWTS pro Julianne Hough, who seems like a sugary-sweet, totally down-to-earth person... at least on TV. One of the first comments is the one you see below. I've cropped in the article so it gets top billing. I am by nature a snarky person but GAH! There are way too many fools who have access to things like keyboards or DSL lines or other people**:
Oh Jenny! After leaving a comment like this, you've put in a full day. Why don't you skip your usual 10 a.m. appointment to kick puppies in the crotch and take a little nap instead?!
*As far as I know there isn't really a Jenny Hough, but if there is, she's probably too busy with the family business of dancing away people's sadness with that golden DNA to make time for trifling commentary like this.
**Case in point: The dreaded "Nurse Rubie", who terrorized Linds & family at the hospital over the weekend.
Teri Hatcher, Teri Hatcher... this is some really great advice for your 10-year-old! You've obviously put in a full day, sweetie, so why don't you settle in for a little nap and store some of that energy for tomorrow?!
One night several years ago, my sister happened to call around dinner time and this is how the conversation went:
Her:Whatcha doin'?
Me:Making dinner. Can I call you back later though, because I'm right in the middle of things.
Her:Sure, but what are you making?
Me:Tacos!
Her:Really? Tacos? {pause} For... ONE?
Me (feigning insult):YES, "TACOS FOR ONE"! What are you saying? Single people aren't allowed to make themselves tacos? GOOD DAY, SIR! {click}
In her defense, I think my answer caught her off guard, not that I was cooking something for myself. She'll be the first to admit that I love cooking--whether or not Jeremy is here to cook for-- and that I'm even pretty good at it. Her momentary shock at the idea of "tacos for one" and my immediate cobra-like strike back response was classic.
Whether it's "tacos for one" or something more elaborate and challenging, I never need an excuse to cook for myself or my loved ones. When I find something I want to make, I do it as soon as possible, which is why it's out of character that for 2 years I've been looking for a reason to make a certain recipe. This straight forward, moderately simple-sounding recipe intrigued me so much that after I did online research and came up with my own adaptation using different versions of it, I kept even the idea of making it to myself.
This was something that demanded the perfect opportunity to bake. Luckily--and without her realizing it-- my sister came up with a dinner party theme (is it just our family that does this?) that fit the bill. She decided to have a "Goodbye Beijing, Hello London 2012" dinner party on the night of the Olympics closing ceremonies, featuring traditional London eats.
My contribution (in a nod to all the pubs I enjoyed in London), and the reason for this post, was to be the famed Chocolate Guinness Cake, otherwise known as The 2nd best thing I've ever put in my mouth*.
The view, if I were an Olympic high diver on my way towards the most delicious pool in the world.
This recipe is not difficult, so don't be intimidated by the number of steps I've broken it down into. As the name suggests, you can make this cake with Guinness or any stout of your choosing. As mentioned above, I did a lot of research because there are so many iterations of this recipe online. The chocolate stout cake recipe listed on Epicurious has 300 reviews alone, many with helpful tweaks and nearly all with strongly-worded advice to cut the recipe down by half unless you plan to serve it to an army; advice that I took to heart and we still had a bigger cake than anticipated. There are a handful of ways you can frost this cake, or you can dust it with powdered sugar and call it a day. I went with my go-to ganache, which is super easy.
The reason why you're licking your screen.
For some ingredients, I specified which brand I used, in case you're anything like my friend--and great cook--Scooter (of "Half-n-Falf" fame) who wants to make sure if she follows someone else's recipe exactly and it doesn't turn out, she can blame them. Just kidding, she doesn't really do that, but that woman likes me to get specific, so I'm doing the same thing for you to use as a recipe guide, not recipe law.
One final thing in this all-too-long preamble (I edited it down 3 times, I swear!): I realize that Scharffen Berger unsweetened cocoa powder is ridiculously expensive compared to what you'd usually have on hand. My grocery store had it marked down from $10 to less than $3, so because it's supposedly the best and because I'm not an idiot, I snapped it up immediately**. But that's just me.
The 2nd Best Thing I've Ever Put In My Mouth* Cake If you're sharing this recipe with your mother, I suggest calling it "Chocolate Guinness Cake". It requires less awkward explanation, and you can trust me on that.
For the Cake:
Three 9" pans or 1 bundt pan
1 cup stout (Young's Double Chocolate Stout); You'll need to pour closer to 2 cups FOAM INCLUDEDfrom the bottle to the measuring cup to equal the 1 cup needed for this recipe.
3/4 cup sour cream (I used light sour cream, as kind of a joke, because have you read this recipe?)
For the Ganache:
2 cups heavy cream
1 tsp vanilla
18 oz. Semi-sweet chocolate chips (Guittard) Don't cheap out now! Use anything less than Nestle & you'll be sorry.
Note: If you bake this cake in a bundt pan, you can cut the ganache recipe down by one-third or in half since you won't have the layers to fill.
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Cake instructions:
Preheat oven to 350°F.
Butter three 8-inch round cake pans with 2-inch-high sides. Line with parchment paper. Butter paper. You may be tempted to forego the parchment paper and buttering, but DO IT ANYWAY. Alternately, you could probably use a non-stick spray on the pans and parchment, but you're in this far already.
Sprinkle about 1 Tablespoon of cocoa powder (totally separate from what recipe calls for) in each pan, and shake around to coat buttered pan & parchment with a thin layer of cocoa. Tap out any extra. Set pans aside. The butter will help ensure this notoriously sticky batter doesn't stick, and the addition of cocoa powder dusting to the buttered coating helps the cakes release from the pans without breaking. I recommend doing this cocoa-powdering step over the sink or you'll have a big mess to deal with after you put the cakes in the oven, when you could instead be relaxing with your feet up while drinking the remaining chocolate stout out of a frosty mug.
Bring stout & butter to simmer in heavy saucepan over medium heat. Add cocoa powder and cinnamon; whisk until mixture is smooth. Remove from heat and cool slightly.
Whisk flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt in separate large bowl to blend.
Using electric mixer, beat eggs and sour cream in another large bowl to blend. Add stout-chocolate mixture to egg mixture and beat just to combine. Add flour mixture and beat briefly on slow speed.
Using rubber spatula, fold batter until completely combined.
Divide batter equally among 3 prepared pans, filling halfway or less. Do not fill more than that because this recipe will rise more than you think.
Bake until tester inserted into center of cakes comes out clean, about 35 minutes.
Transfer cake pans to rack; cool at least 30 minutes.
Turn cakes out onto rack, remove parchment and cool completely.
Ganache instructions:
Put chocolate chips in pyrex bowl, set aside. Bring cream and vanilla up to a slow boil in saucepan, then remove from heat.
Immediately pour over chocolate chips and let sit for 5 minutes.
Whisk until smooth.
Refrigerate for up to an hour (or however long you can stand it), then whip for 2-5 minutes with hand mixer.
Place 1 cake layer on plate. Spread 1/4 of ganache over. Repeat with 2nd cake layer. Top with third cake layer, spreading remaining 1/2 of ganache over top & sides of entire cake.
Optional: In addition to the ganache, add raspberries, strawberries, blackberries or maybe evensnozzberries in between each layer and on the top.
*I know what you thought after reading that title, but you should give me a little more credit than that and get your mind out of the gutter. The first best thing I ever put in my mouth was THIS, though I realize you know me well enough to not be surprised at all if I said that I wish it was THIS. Drool.
Thanks to Facebook, I've been caught up in a wormhole along with just about everyone I've ever met in my entire life. For someone who moved around a lot growing up, it's been a total blast to reconnect with such a vast network of old friends. I've always been a shutterbug, so I already have a lot of photo albums on my FB page. This has both delighted and horrified some people, and the fact that I have a stack of about 100 more photos to scan has struck fear across this nation.
That sound you hear late at night is me, leaning back in my desk chair, rubbing my hands together and filling the darkness with wicked laughter.
The following is a recent Facebook IM'ing session with Logan (not his real name), who believes he's immortal after jumping out of a plane ON PURPOSE and not falling to his untimely death. I only mention this because he references it once and I wanted to disclose everything just like a lawyer would. Speaking of lawyers, "Logan" certainly isn't one, and he definitely isn't one who works for the government of a certain city, and he obviously wasn't engaging in this kind of conversation with me when he was on the clock as a government lawyer for a certain city. Just so we're clear on that.
If conversations like this aren't an advertisement for getting back in touch with people, even if it means sharing embarrassing photos of yourself (and others) dressed in uniform, I don't know what is.
Logan:Those were some fancy hats y'all wore.
Me:Hats?
Logan:In the "Clarinet Mafia" pics.
(Sidenote: Make sure when you get to the end of this post that you click to read the comments. I'm still giggling over some confusion this photo caused!*)
Me:OOOH! Yes, well, that was _________ High School's national award-winning marching band uniform for you. We all hated them, BTW. Which should go without saying.
Logan:Don't lie.
Me:Ok, we liked them a little. Like, if we needed a weapon of tickle-torture, we could use the feathers.
Logan:If I had a hat like that back then I'd have been getting so much play...
Me: Oh yeah. Definitely.
Logan:All I had was my gigantic cranium, and that didn't get me anywhere.
Me:A big head didn't get you any play? Sadness.
Logan:Given the proper adornment, though... I'd have been SET.
Me:Yeah, well on your huge cranium especially. We could just call it "insurance" for a sure thing. This puts an all-new spin on "feather in his cap".
Logan:Ouch. I'm just imagining where those feathers would be... Never mind. I'm talking about my actual CRANIUM.
Me:Ahhh, cranium is the word of the day.
Logan:Yeah, yeah...It is now, I guess; but I had been leaning towards "Vulva." I usually do.
Me:"Leaning Towards Vulva" might be the best indie band name ever. As in, "'Now on tour: 'LEANING TOWARDS VULVA!'"
Logan:"And now, straight from Long Beach, CA... 'Leaning Towards Vulva!'"
Me:"How you doin' Seattle? We are 'Leaning! Towards! Vulva'!"
Logan:I almost fell out of my chair, and that'd be a bad thing today.
Me:Hopefully not on your fancy hat.
Logan:No, on my gigantic... ummm... cranium.
Me:Wow, it really MUST be gigantic. I'm impressed.
Logan:No vulvas were harmed in the filming of Logan falling out of his chair onto his... Ummm... cranium. Well, not PERMANENTLY harmed, anyway.
Me:Vulvas, no. Feathers however, are another story.
Logan:Oh, the older I get, the more sophomoric I become, and the longer it takes for me to recover from acting younger than I actually am.
Me:Exactly. I'm going to write about this on my blog, you know. I won't use your real name, don't worry. Unless you want me to.
Logan:Feel free. What do I care? I survived a skydive. I'm inf**kingvincible!Just don't mention it was during "business hours."
Me:You lived to tell the tale of your ginormous skull. Generations will benefit...and vulvas, too, no doubt.
Logan:Hey, generations will ALWAYS benefit from MY being here, and from vulvas being here, as well.
Me:Without the vulvas, there'd be no generations. WHOA. That was a little too deep.
Note: Neither feathers nor personal reputations were harmed during this hijinks-filled night out with friends, whose names have been changed!
A lot has been written on a man's sense of humor being the most attractive thing to women, and I'm the first one to nod my head in agreement. If a guy is the right kind of funny, he will have my full attention. In the past few years I've read about how supposedly men aren't into funny women which turns out to be a non-issue because apparently there aren't funny women, only reproducing machines that bring babies into the world. I don't believe any of that idiocy comes from the thoughts & minds of REAL MEN, but is misinformation spread around by The Man*--whose main job is to keep us down--and not in a good way.
One of my oldest** and funniest friends, Linda (not her real name), drove from a few states away for an overnight visit that was planned in advance to coincide with a live performance of one of our newest*** friends, Dundee's (not his real name) band. I emailed him the day before the show to remind him that the song that truly makes me woozy isn't even on any of his CDs--yet!--and he can make it up to me by performing it at least once, or (and I quote), "for just long enough, if you know what I'm saying".
I can express myself like that freely because most of my social circle consists of people who not only get my humor, but also give it right back. They make it possible to engage in the clever repartee that I live and breathe for (I really, really do), which makes me giddy. I'm thrilled to have so many friends with the ability to take something said in jest and run with it because it keeps me laughing. Dunn fits right in by demonstrating a good mix of his own biting wit, thinly-veiled euphamisms, and tongue always planted firmly in cheek.
Since I'm a giver, here is an excerpt from the text message conversation between Dundee & I (none of which should be taken seriously, as we're both shameless flirts with those we adore) on the day of his Chicago show:
Dunn (not his real name):Happy to hear you'll be at the show tonight, Sugar!
Me:If the message sent from this number to me was from 'Chocolate Thunder', I have bad news. I won't be in my usual seat at The Sugarshack for your performance because I'm seeing a different kind stage show tonight. Sorry.
Dunn:You know I love yo' sass.
Me:Oh, how embarrassing! I thought you were CT, who is someone else I know with OTHER talents. If you love my sass, you better prepare yourself for Linda because she's on her way here! Text her your appreciation in advance at ###-###-####.
Dunn:Linda will be at the show, too? I'll have my hands full with the two of you, for sure. BTW, I do have talent. At least 1/2 the skills of Choc Thunder. Let me demonstrate.
Me:I guess that means I better bring dollar bills to your show tonight, though if you only have 1/2 the skills, I can bring my smaller wallet.
Dunn:HA! Where are you right now? I mean exactly, with the zip code & everything. I'm pretty good at stalking, some say.
Me:You gather information for the people you'd like to stalk by ASKING THEM FOR IT? How refreshing. Although you can't really be considered good at something if someone is supplying you with the answers. You're not living up to your potential.
Dunn:Point taken. Does the fact that I'm bringing some great wine put me back in your good graces? If you stalk ME after the show, I'll even share.
Me: Oh, we'll definitely be stalking! It'll be good to have a night off from Chocolate Thunder. He never shares his wine, so you have THAT going for you.
Dunn:Which is nice. BTW, does Linda love me more than you do?
Me:That's a trick question.
Dunn:Absolutely not, it's very fair.
Me:I think you should text her yourself. Go right to the source.
Dunn:So, it's cool that I've been copying her on our messages already?
Me:HA! I call bullshit, but well played. You should actually be thanking me because she's where it's at, baby.
Me:Me? Yenta? Never! Why you gotta treat me so bad?
Dunn:I'll only treat you with loving tenderness, my dear.
Me:That response was very Big Bad Wolf of you.
Dunn:No Big Bad Wolf here, I'm as gentle as a lamb.
Me:Oooh, I hope not!
Dunn:I lie for sh*t, don't I?
Me:You're terrible at it. It's shameful, really. Good thing I know you're great with your hands. When playing your guitar, I mean...
As expected, they put on an excellent show, which included a dedication to his *wink* "special friends" *wink* of my previously mentioned favorite song. Linda was fanning me midway through because I was, well, reacting to it. As the last note was thumped out on the bass, I heard myself yelling over the crowd's applause, "Do it again!". It was quite a moment. The band took a short break and he came to our table so we could make our post-show plan.
Twenty minutes after the show ended:
Dunn:Equipment all packed up. After-show plan in full effect?
Me&Linda:Bring wine, and hurry up or you'll miss the pillow fight****!
Dunn:I'll be right over, and you girls had better not be kidding.
*Jerry Lewis **23 years & counting ***Less than that ****If you ever want a man to hurry up, use that line. Works every time, no joke.
Double-click on either 'play' arrow if you have trouble with the video.
I really do have the biggest balls of them all. Grandé gonads. I'm talking, HUGE. Figuratively speaking, of course.
My sister & I had seats in the nosebleed section for George Michael's show at the United Center. Normally, nosebleed seats are okay with me because I think ANY seat is a good seat at a live show. Sure, sometimes I'll get carried away and go for the best available, but only when I feel like it would otherwise be a missed opportunity. Like the time we were at an on-site Ticketmaster location picking numbers out of a hat to determine our place in line for tickets to see Lenny Kravitz. I picked #1. As in, FIRST TO HAVE MY CHOICE OF ANY SEAT IN THE HOUSE. That is called luck. We decided that instead of buying the lawn seats, we'd go all in, just for kicks.
That's how we ended up 6 rows from Lenny during the entire show with the exception of the 5 minutes he leaned his sinewy and half-naked body into the waiting arms of the crowd, and my outstretched hand was literally millimeters from his beautifully sculpted and tattooed bicep. I'm actually glad he wasn't closer, because had that been the case, you would now be reading about that one time my lawyer advised against using "What do you expect, I'm only human! Have you SEEN him?" as my defense in court for licking Lenny Kravitz's hot bod.
Oooh, Lenny's hot and probably very tasty bod... I need a moment.
Where was I? Oh yes, nosebleed seats. We were in the car on our way to grab a bite before the concert. I had yet to tell my sister about some e-mails sent to strangers on my lunch break because I didn't know what the outcome would be.
At 5:45 p.m., my phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize, but I knew the area code, and took a deep breath before answering. A decision had been made and some information was exchanged; logistics, passwords, horoscopes, the secret handshake, a limerick.
By the time I hung up three things were evident: 1) I had no control over the fact that I was hearing myself scream about my sizeable balls,2) my sister was VERY confused and wanted to know what was going on, and 3)We could look forward to being a mere 50 feet away from George now that we had insanely great $250 seats in the 4th row of section 122. For FREE.*
I would love to tell you every specific detail on how I got those tickets from someone I don't even know, but then I'd have to kill you. Just kidding, I wouldn't really have to kill you; but it is beside the point I'm trying to make here, which goes beyond "good" seats at concerts. What I'm trying to tell you is this:
Open your mouth and ask for what you want. This goes for run-of-the-mill AND outrageous things. I have lived by that rule since I was 19, and it has worked for me more times than I can count.
Last year, after getting a direct e-mail from the author of a book, thanking me for a post I wrote about my excitement for the release date, I e-mailed back asking him to sign the book for me once it was out. He had plenty of other things do besides give into the whims of a stranger but enjoyed both my enthusiasm and a challenge since he was shuttling between countries and continents at the time. We figured out a plan and he somehow found the time to get to the post office in a city he doesn't even LIVE in on his last day there to pick up the book I'd shipped overnight specifically for the purpose of opening the box in the post office, signing the book, and immediately sending it back to me. It was all quite a thrilling adventure that wasn't without mishaps. You can read (and should!) the whole entertaining story on that HERE. We're still in contact, by the way... and the next time we're in the same country we're totally meeting for a drink.
One more example: Want to know how I have a 4-day workweek with every Friday off? I asked for it. Had they said no, it wouldn't have been a deal-breaker, but I asked anyway and got it.
My sister said something on Wednesday night about me being lucky, but luck is when something falls unexpectedly into your lap, like being first in line to buy Lenny Kravitz tickets. Giving the credit to luck when you've clearly asked for something disregards not only the effort put forth in the initial asking of the question, but does even more of a disservice to the person who decidedly says yes.
So, what are you waiting for? Get some big, figurative balls of your own and start asking for what you want from every facet of this life. Of YOUR life. It's yours to live and there are people out there who will be glad to conspire with you in ways you have yet to imagine. Ask for what you want from the people you know and especially the people you don't. One thing is certain: if you never ask, you'll NEVER get it. When the worst that can happen is that someone says, "no", you should always go for it. Come from a sincere place and ask for what you want. You'll be surprised at how many times people say yes!
Then, whenever possible, send thank-you notes. Being ballsy is something to be celebrated. Being ungrateful is not.
*To be clear, the $250 seats we got were not taken away from a child in the Make-a-Wish program, or anyone else for that matter.
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As for those who are interested in how G.M. was live, I can only say that you better get your tickets while you can. He was incredible. I worried that maybe at this point in his career, he'd phone in the performance. He did no such thing. It was a tremendous show, and ranks among the top 5 favorite live performances of all time, and I've seen lots of live shows. He blew the doors off the joint, and I can only hope his idea of a farewell tour is the same as Cher's and The Rolling Stones'... that it goes on for decades, seemingly without end.
My camera phone seems to have a wide angle lens. We were closer than it appears from this shot. This is precisely when I had my heart attack.
Yes, I know camera phone photo quality can suck, but I can only blame myself for these blurry shots. It's as good as it gets when you're involuntarily jumping and singing and cheering and clapping.
You can't really see that he's standing in the shadows on stage, but the silhouette on screen proves it. So. Much. Awesome!
My desk on Thursday morning. My boss thought I'd like some creative inspiration to carry me through the day. I got the last laugh when I told him where we ended up sitting!
The seating chart my sister worked up to show you both our nosebleed and eventual AMAZING seats. Click image to enlarge and then click HERE to read her post on the night, complete with the set list and youtube videos.
Don't say you already knew this song and didn't bother to tell me about it.
I like Radiohead but have never seen them live, so if you're a super-fan don't take this wrong because it's the highest compliment I can pay: This song is the closest thing I've heard to Jeff Buckley since Jeff Buckley.
Double click either play arrow if you have trouble with the video:
Heart-stoppingly beautiful. They've been performing Nude in concert since 1997, but the recent In Rainbows is the first time they committed it to an album.
P.S. Alicia, I'm going through my Buckley stuff this weekend! For reals!
I'm not REALLY engaged to Jeremy Piven, as my profile photo would suggest. It's photoshop, people... but do me a favor and play along, will you? Thanks.
