Barbie Doll

A friend and I went Christmas shopping for his nieces, and in the aisle of things pink and horrid, we made a discovery. There is a series known as the "Festivals of the World" Barbies. On the shelf, however, was a Barbie representing only one festival of the world. And I think perhaps she should not have been in the children's section.

See, this Barbie was Oktoberfest Barbie. I kid you not. With Princess Leia hair (coiled and coiled and coiled and...), a frighteningly short dirndl, and a beer mug—yes, a BEER MUG—in one hand, there was something dirty and creepy about her. Because, y'know, Barbie just isn't creepy enough. It was wrong. So very wrong. Up the Skirt Barbie should not exist.

Rich Man

A friend of my parents had two daughters. One was diligent and one was a slacker. The slacker talked to her school's guidance counselor.

Counselor: You really need to improve your grades. With what you've got now, you won't get far. What do you plan on doing with your life? How will you make a living?

Slacker: I'll marry a rich man and shop every day.

When I heard this story, I was amazed. That was really what she wanted? How dull! But I realized one day: her plans for the future were just what her mom had done. Marry the rich man, spend his riches, make the kids do all the housework.

I don't know where the slacker is now.

Team Leaders!

Many years ago, I was talking to someone (online) who worked at AOL and he mentioned that he was a Team Leader. I snickered. It's such propaganda, this title of Team Leader. We all work together! Honest! And you guide us, O Leader! We're a team! It made me laugh the first time I heard it, but my laughter was met with confusion. But but but... that's my job title! Why are you laughing at my job title? I'm a Team Leader! I'm important! Yes, it seemed that the person with whom I was conversing completely bought into the title. As for me, I don't care whether you call it "Team Leader" (though that continues to make me laugh) or "manager of this little group of people". Even if you are manager of a not so little group of people, the title of Team Leader is still stupid. I don't care if it makes you feel better about your job. It's a title, and it doesn't mean much.

Not too long ago I met another person with the title of Team Leader. And he referred to the people he worked with as his team, no less. He, too, completely bought into his title without questioning why he was called Team Leader. I tried to bring up the subject. He seemed like a fairly rational guy at the time, and I thought he'd be the sort to acknowledge that it was pretty stupid but that's just how his company termed things. I was wrong. He truly believed in his title. He thought it was a badge of honour. He thought that he was special just because his title was not Assistant Manager or Sub-assistant manager. Because, y'know, being a Team Leader is so different. I mean, let's name the differences in job requirements.

1. Non-existent.

2. Non-existent.

3. Non-existent.

And that about sums it up.

People, you can call yourself Team Leader if that's what your employer insists on calling you, but remember that it doesn't mean your employer or anyone else thinks any better of you. You do the same damn job you always did. And I'll still cringe when I hear your title.

I like arts

I went to a movie recently in an artsy little theatre in an artsy little building. The movie was American Hardcore, and it was thoroughly awesome. Yet that wasn't the highlight of the outing. The highlight of the outing—and the highlight of the week—was discovering that the artsy little building was one I had heard about. In fact, I had wanted to go to the artsy little building for a while, and this is why: it has an art vending machine in the lobby. The vending machine is one of those old cigarette vending machines, but instead of pulling out the rod of your choice to receive a certain brand of cigarettes, you pull the rod of your choice to receive a certain artist's works. What could be better? Each art is handcrafted, not a copy, and costs only $4.

I bought five arts for me and one art for a friend. He got a painting of someone's left ear. I got some splatter paintings on layers of plexiglass. I will arrange mine together to form a larger artwork. So. Very. Cool.

Rasputin's Eyes

Some good news for me. And really, isn't good news for me actually good news for the world? < / StephenColbert >

Anyway, I found out on Sunday (that's a few hours ago, folks) that one of my poems is a finalist in MARGIE/The American Journal of Poetry's Editor's Prize Contest. It will be published in Volume 6 of MARGIE, due out in fall of 2007. I feel a bit... curious. The poem selected is one that I think is strong when it's among other poems. I never really thought of its ability to stand on its own. And yet, somebody saw it as fairly strong all by its little lonesome. Of course, I don't know how many people entered the contest, how many people were finalists, if my being told that I'm a finalist means that's as far as I got, or if it means I'm up for the big prize. Whose monetary amount, incidentally, I have completely forgotten. Perhaps all this will bring me good luck? I mean, my seeming nonchalance? I don't know.

I'm still going to run around singing, "Iiiiii'm gonna be PUUUUBlished!"

Being published is a strange thing. I find myself wondering if the quality of a journal has diminished, and that's what has let me sneak into it. I've mentioned that before. Then again, things might change this month, because I will finally see myself in print. In a good journal. Arc Poetry Magazine's wintry issue (with ME) has been distributed. I haven't seen it anywhere yet, but I hear it's out. And, um, I've ordered plenty of copies. But if you want one, you should go to this page and buy a copy. You could totally ship it to me and I'd autograph it and send it back to you. That would be awesome. And really, really weird.

omg totally girlie

So I used to buy shampoo/soap/facewash/et cetera from Yves Rocher. I liked the products. I liked the free gifts. I even liked the little perfume samples that I would open just to smell but never wear. And then, early this summer, I received a flowery notice from Yves Rocher saying that they were partnering up with UPS for all further deliveries. GAH. I e-mailed them to ask if I could request shipments to be sent another way, but they answered (kindly) that UPS was wonderful and this partnership was a good thing.

Let me explain something here. I live in a condo. I have to be home for packages, because they'll never be left for me if I'm away. UPS never comes when I'm home. Therefore UPS packages must be picked up from the outlet next to the airport. This means that every time I get a UPS package, I spend about $60 on cab fare just to pick up the package. IT IS NOT WORTH IT. Yves Rocher will no longer get my business because I'm not going to deal with UPS.

However, I did discover a wonderful new product. It is SoftSoap's vanilla brown sugar liquid soap. Mmmm... it smells warm and that makes it feel warm. It is a gentle, loving soap, and Yves Rocher will just have to accept that. As well as accepting that they will get no more money from me.

The organic supermarket has excellent facewash, my Garnier shampoos and conditioners can be found anywhere, vanilla brown sugar soap makes me happy—so that leaves me just one thing. Deodorant. Where can I find a good non-white deodorant? It was hard enough finding the Yves Rocher deodorant, and now I must find a new one. Yves Rocher, I will not return to you. I will not return to the dark side. I will find a good new deodorant! But where?