Thursday, December 16, 2010

Too busy to blog!

I don't really have six arms and I would never part my hair in the middle but this is my life right now.

Two of my kid's have birthdays in December, then there's Jesus's birthday (Is that how you punctuate Jesus to show ownership? Or is it Jesuses? And Jesus kind of has ownership over everything, right? Oh, Christ, I don't know.) Plus four of my clients need ads RIGHT NOW!

It's a crazy month, but I really miss blogging.

I hate to disappoint all three of you who read my stuff so I thought I'd give you a literary appetizer featuring subjects of blog posts to come:

1.) It doesn't suck that much being a hockey mom
2.) What's up with the dude who performed CPR on that other dude then stole his wife's purse?
3.) We should totally fix the Dome. (and other shitty business decisions.)

That's just a handful of lively and riveting topics to chew on. (I also have something about "Openly Facebooking and irritated-that-you-showed-up receptionists", but I need to calm down about that one or it will just be a string of expletives.

Happy Holidays!

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Eeew! Eeew! Eeew!


I'm so tweaked over this story about the photography professor who had a camera surgically implanted in his head (giving him a third eye), that I can barely write this post.

But I must.

The camera will broadcast an online stream of the images it captures through a museum in Qatar. I can't imagine it will be any more interesting than someone's home movies. He's just holding the camera with a different body part. But it's a new twist on technology and it's online, so it must be fascinating, right?

My friend Steph and I were just talking about how all this electronic media has sucked people in to the point that they seem almost hypnotized and aren't even aware of what they are doing half the time.

And we're ready to SWACK! a friend's Blackberry out of their hand if they compulsively start a texting conversation with someone else while they are in our company.

I heard on the radio the other day (a radio is an old fashioned device that people enjoyed mostly during World War II) that there was a woman driving on the freeway with a cell phone in one hand, a sandwich in the other and a seven year old in the front seat...unbelted! Maybe she needed the kid up there to steer? I honestly wonder if her unconscious need to hold her cell phone was what set off that cavalcade of bad decisions.

I'm all about multi-tasking but multi-media tasking is just becoming brain-sucky, rude and scary.

Do you check e-mail while you're on the phone? (I've been known to.) Do you text friends who are in the next room...or closer? (Yes you do. I've seen you.) Do you search online for random facts about random people, places and things even though you're supposed to be working, cleaning, making dinner, hanging out with your kids? (I think we'd all say yes to something on that list.)

Well feel better about yourself because this guy takes multi-media tasking to a whole new level.

http://www.kitguru.net/channel/generaltech/jules/guy-with-camera-implanted-in-head-says-its-uncomfortable/

The camera is apparently implanted "transdermally". (BARF, SNOT, BARF). But there are metal posts exposed to reinforce the very visible camera. (HURL, FAINT, GET UP AND FAINT AGAIN) But this guy will only be multi-media tasking for another year because that is how long he has been commissioned by the museum to keep the camera in.

Oh and if you think his version of multi-media tasking is uncouth, he doesn't care. He maintains that if people want to take him off their guest list because of the camera, he doesn't want to be their guest anyway. So there.

Alright, freakshow.

Don't call me...or text me...or e-mail me...

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc.

Monday, December 6, 2010

"Put me down, Josh."

It's good when teenagers have dreams. They are more likely to succeed if they have a vision for their future. And less likely to do drugs or be truant or get pregnant.

But when your dream is to become a diary farmer by stealing livestock, you may want to consult with a life coach and workshop some other ideas.

I read a story this weekend (http://www.twincities.com/ci_16778358) about a couple of ambitious teens from central Minnesota who wanted to get a jump start on their careers. They intended to start their own dairy farm, but since they were low on capital, they decided to steal a few calves from their neighbors. 17 calves to be exact, from 3 different counties. See? Ambitious.

I can't even picture this. There are lots of weird sounds and smells that emanate from a teenagers room, but those of the bovine variety have to be pretty obvious. Weren't their parent's suspicious? What did they say? "Josh. Clean you room. It smells like shit in there." And just leave it at that?

Okay so maybe they didn't hide 17 calves in their bedrooms but where did they put them? How did they hide them for so long? And who wants to be a dairy farmer that badly anyway?

Why couldn't they have just smoked some weed, crashed a few cars and blown their SAT's like we did when we were young?

Kids these days.

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc.








Saturday, December 4, 2010

I'm no feminist


I prefer when women are a little more subtle about their fierceness.

I understand that I owe feminism a lot.

These days women get to be smart and confident and independent and they don't have to apologize for it. Oh, and we can vote.

I'm not making light of any of the above, I just want to point out that I think there may be a downside to feminism...like everything...and this morning I saw it.

Male feminism.

See, it snowed here last night. A lot. And this morning I had to get out there and shovel. No problem. I'm healthy and strong and able-bodied. It's a lot of work, but I do it a dozen times every winter. It's just part of living in the upper midwest.

But while I was shoveling, this guy showed up to pick up a package from me.

A big package.

And just before he arrived, I quickly shoveled a narrow path up my front steps so that the guy could easily retrieve the package, which was right inside my front door. I did't want to take the package outside because it would have gotten all snowy. So I left it just inside my door, shoveled the path, done.

Not so much.

This guy gets to my house to pick up the package and while I'm knee deep in my driveway, he asks me where the package is. (Logical question. That was the purpose of his visit.) But there was no nod to what I was in the midst of. No, "Hey, you got another shovel?" Not even an attempt to step out of the plowed street and toward my house. Nothing that would show any kind of awareness that I'm the girl and he's the guy.

Or is he?

So I tell the "guy" that the package is just inside my front door and gesture toward it like, "Kinda busy. Help yourself." But instead of going to retrieve it himself, he asks one of my two boys who are helping me shovel, (he knows them well), to get the package for him!

Feminist.

I didn't know he made the request until I saw my son darting up my steps. So being more practical than bright, I yelled to my son to wait until I shoveled a wider path on my steps, so that as he dragged the package down, it didn't get soaked in snow.

What I should have said was. "Wait, kids. Let the "guy" do it. We're shoveling." But I'm someone who over-functions, so instead of thinking, I just sprang into action. Doi.

By now I was angry, but because I didn't want to express my anger in front of my kids, I just guided my son down the steps with the package and toward the "guy" who streeeeeeeetched toward it from the plowed street like it was an icky bug, grabbed it with his soft hands and put it in his trunk. Bleh.

Now this may not seem like a big deal to some people, but this stuff drives me nuts. And I see more of this blurred-gender-behavior every day.

I was talking to this awesome girl who cuts my hair about it last week. A tatooed knock-out. Part pin up girl, part graffitied building. She runs a business, owns a home, and talks like a truck driver. I love her. And I think she summed up male feminism best. "We did it." She barked. She went on to explain that after years of asking our men to show their emotions, be gentle, nurturing and let us take the reigns, that, well, they did. And now we get all bent out of shape when they don't hold doors, pay the tab or sit in the driver's seat.

Maybe.

But I know two stay-at-home-dad's (a modern job that some don't see as "manly") well, those two guys would have grabbed that shovel out of my hand so fast, I would have looked like the girl in the photo attached to this post. (The photo that has little relevance to this story. I just googled "girl shoveling" and there she was. It cracked me up. Pun intended. What do you think that day was like for her?)

PHONE RING
GIRL: Hello?
GUY: Hey Nancy, we're gonna go get some sushi. Wanna come?
PAUSE
GIRL: Darn. I can't. I have this modeling shoot...I mean, I'm going to do some charity work...for my church...yeah...but you guys have fun.

Tangent. Sorry.

So my two stay-at-home-dad friends are ALL GUY. Lots of my gay, male friends are ALL GUY.

Why aren't they feminists?

Why isn't my neighbor, who sprinted toward me with his snow-blower after the feminist left and shouted "Outta my way, kid!" and cleaned my driveway lickety split, then moved down the block before I even knew he was gone?

I don't know, but that last gesture restored my faith in humanity...or man-ity.

So if we can't blame male feminism on feminism, what is to blame? Bad genes? Fried food? Romantic comedies?

Beats me.

Maybe it's been around forever, and maybe these days the non-chivalrous, non-gentlemanly, non-guy-guys feel like they can just be who they are and they don't have to apologize for it...just like us girls.

Great.

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc.






Thursday, December 2, 2010

Awwwwww

Isn't he precious?

Don't you just want to snuggle him?

According to an e-mail I just got from Amazon.com., this little cutie, the Imaginext Big Foot - The Monster, is one of the hot toys this holiday season

WTF?

This thing is terrifying.

And it's HUGE.

Check it out here.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00388DKXA/ref=gs_htljspf_rd_p=1282846702&pf_rd_s=center-10&pf_rd_t=7601&pf_rd_i=home&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=0JB00YY8WTYGMBQ6EZQJ

And say a prayer for the brave little boy in the photo whose parents must have made him model with The Monster, even though he was probably shizzing himself.

Merry Christmas?

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

He's baaaaaack.


Tiger Woods is back on the scene.

Too soon?

Depends on who you ask.

If you ask his client The Chevron World Challenge... aka Tiger Woods (since that stop on the PGA tour was established by Tiger), the answer would be, "No."

If you ask his fans, they might say, "Not soon enough."

If you ask me? I'd say something like, "@!#$% yes, it's too soon!"

He's probably still picking rear-window-glass-shards out of his hair. The night of the golf club wielding incident or "one-car accident" was little over a year ago.

Dude. Chilax. No one has forgotten about you...and that's kind of the problem.

If I were Tiger Woods (Well, I'd get a lot of tail) but I'd also keep my head down and shutup until I ate enough crow to re-emerge. And I would do that very slowly and gracefully.

But, nooooooooooo.

T-dawg decided that not only was it time to turn his spotlight back on, but he did it with one of his favorite forms of communication: electronic media.

Tiger opened a Twitter account and started tweeting this week.

And because I believe his rehabilitation period is not over and he has prematurely re-engaged with the public, I also believe that anything he says or does will be steeped in his addictions and ego. In other words, he's full of it.

Therefore, I have taken the liberty of interpreting an exerpt of his tweets borrowed from a page on BBC Sports. See below:

KEY:

Q: = Tiger's Twitter fans

A: = Tiger

L: = Lynda's interpretation


Q: Hey -- What's the best pre-round meal and "in the bag" snacks/food? Thnx.
A: During round I eat peanut & banana sandwich & almonds

L: I like variety. Asian, American, French chicks... Wait. What was the question? Um, "in the bag" is cool. As long as they take a cab home.

Q: Yo tiger, what are your 2011 goals on the PGA tour?

A: As Al Davis said "Just win baby"

L: As Al Davis said...ooh, do you think he's related to Geena Davis? Hey, Geena. I'm single. Call me.

Q: I'm a retired Special Ops Guy like your dad. I got divorced and it was tough as hell. I have faith in you!

A: Thanks brother

L: What's your ex-wife's phone number?

Q: What's your favourite course and why?
A: St. Andrews

L: Inter

Q: If you could play any other sport, what would it be?
A: Basketball

L: Basketball. (I actually believe this one.)

Q: What part of your game are looking forward to in 2011?
A: EVERYTHING

L: The part where everyone is hypnotized by my talent so I can do whatever I want, no matter who it hurts, and all will be forgotten. I love that part. Call me.


Honestly, I hope none of the above is how Tiger feels. I hope he'll be okay. But this very public splash has Britney Spears and Michael Jackson written all over it. "Hey, Tiger. Get back out there! Manage your public image! Make us some money!"

Can he say, "No. It's too soon. I need to take my insides out and examine them and heal." Can he say. "Listen. I have kids. I need to be okay for them, not you." Sure. But most of his life has been spent pleasing other people. He's their product and they need their product to sell.

I just don't think this is the way to do it. And I hope he figures that out and puts his foot down.

I hope he really does, as he mentioned at his press conference after his skeletons were revealed, reconnect with his Buddhist roots. I think it can save him. It's a beautiful way to live. Modest and introspective. Quiet and kind. Responsible and respectful. What I'm seeing is none of those things.

And what the public is seeing is another celebrity behaving badly and being adored. What am I supposed to say to my boys when we're watching ESPN and they ask me "What did Tiger do?" "What did Brett Favre do?" "What did (insert the next name here) do?"

I guess I could say. "He made a mistake, honey." And leave it at that. But kids persist. They want details. Especially about the athletes they idolize. And when they inevitably learn those details in school or in the locker room and subsequently see their idol mugging for the camera, endorsing a cool product or being accompanied to an award show by a gorgeous girl, it sends a message that troubles me.

Is it Tiger's job to raise my kids? No. Is it Tiger's job to act in a way that I respect? No.

It would just be nice if once, a celebrity whose dirty laundry has been aired in public would not just apologize...because they all do, but take that dirty laundry and publicly wash it, iron it, fold it, and tuck it tidily away.

I know. It's about as likely as a hole-in-one.

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc.