Hello, everyone,

As you can probably guess, this blog is currently taking a break.

Thank you all for your kind and insightful comments.

Will return when possible.

Best to you~

In my real job, for the last two weeks, I’ve sat down at my computer and written a variety of things. Things that are funny, silly, holiday-esque, and jovial.

For this blog, there was a draft of The Christmas Form Letter which I promised to you. That isn’t lost on me. I had it semi-finished–pending one last proof before hitting the “Schedule” button.

But over the last few days, I just can’t bring myself to send it. To finish it. To proof it. It just seems too trivial, too silly, and inappropriate for this holiday season of 2012.

We all know why. We’ve been overwhelmed with news about a little American town named Newtown, Connecticut. Even the name of the town is ironic to me, as the words “New” “town” and “Connect” are part of its given name.

I’m not personally connected to this town. I’d never heard it’s name until this unspeakable tragedy occurred. Plus, I don’t have children, so to feel such pain as a non-parent is a weight on my shoulders that can only feel compounded 100% to those of you with children of your own.

It’s undoubtedly going to be in the news for weeks to come, and the main question in many of our minds is, simply, WHY? How can anyone be so fractured of mind and spirit to look into an angel’s eyes and kill them? Psychologists will try to make sense of it. The Parents will try to come to terms with it, eventually (if that’s even possible), and parents not directly affected will hug their children a little tighter this year than they normally would. Families will pray. People will take stock of their real blessings and think about what’s important in Life (and it isn’t that toy at the mall).

There are many unsung heroes we have yet to hear about. There are also many unsung heroes out there who’ve dealt with these tragedies in the past–whether it was with one precious child, a group of precious children, or adults who’ve been cut down at the height of their lives to ensure the future of a child who may not have had one save their sacrifice.

To our human minds, this is a senseless tragedy that is compounded by this time of year. No one could foresee such heartbreaking misfortune.

Normally, this time of year we celebrate with family, friends, and even strangers on the street and in shopping malls. We offer help to those in need, and we feel grateful and count our many blessings. We also fight with relatives, make fun of Christmas form letters, turn into Road Rage Randi, and even drink a little too much at the office holiday Christmas party. I’m just as guilty as the next person.

This year, all those things seem so foolish–a waste of our precious time here on Earth.

All we can do is try to make the world a better place, and support those heroes who are too devastated to care they’re heroes: the parents, teachers, responders, family, friends, and fellow students.

And listen for the newest Angels to be heard on High.

If anyone knows the movie “Christmas Vacation,” this scene isn’t always too far fetched…

There’s the coin flip for which house you’re visiting that year. Or, if lots of relatives are particularly cranky and bossy, you drive to three houses in six hours, then collapse at midnight so you can put together a kid’s bike you really care about giving away.

There’s white elephant parties, marketing ploys that facilitate the elusive Normal Rockwell dinner, and the screaming in-laws and outlaws you’re related to. You really try to pretend to care about their lives over silly conversations and reckless statements, but frankly, it’s exhausting. You’d rather be watching the game, drinking beer, drinking beer and watching the game, or be, well, anywhere else.

So, as a precursor warm-up to The Holiday Letter, here’s a group of pictures to hopefully bring about glad tidings:

Rudolph must have called in sick.

Pride and joy in a job well done.

Always helpful

They meant well…didn’t they?

Me, too

Gotta love Aunt Bethany.

Happy holidays!

More coming soon!

Hello, everyone-

No, it’s not “The Letter” yet, but that’s well underway. More on that later.

Just a quick collage of pictures that pretty much sum up Thanksgiving.

Have a wonderful day!

The holidays are almost here. Unless you’re living under a rock, they began right before Halloween. Some of you might dread THE HOLIDAYS and others of you only semi-dread it. Is there anyone out there over the age of 20 who loves THE HOLIDAYS? Just curious.

I fall somewhere in the middle. To me, THE HOLIDAYS can be an awkward revisit of forced expectations that if truly explored, might not even be necessary. It’s also a time I feel a pang in my chest for those who dread the holidays, can’t afford the holidays, or simply can’t be with the loved ones they actually want to be with.

Then comes the shopping.

There’s the mall parking garage:
To the person in the parking garage who sits and waits with your blinker on: Waiting for that parking spot while backing up traffic over three levels is unwarranted. No one wants to watch Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, a small infant, a toddler, (and some other unknown person who’s just hanging around, disinterested) load 100 years worth of shopping into one vehicle for 30 minutes. It’s unnecessary. Because you’ll just get out of the car and walk 10 miles throughout the mall, anyway.

There’s also the shopping: struggling to find something for that person who buys everything they want and need when you’re faint from hunger and your shoes are about ready to give out.

But remember, the person alone in a nursing home, assisted living facility, or someone who’s ostracized for a made-up reason no one remembers can also use a smile.

Kids are especially important. It’s the glorious time of Baby Jesus, then there’s also the kid who THINKS he/she is Baby Jesus. Shopping, yelling, and pulling hair over of-the-moment dolls and toys is just part of the fun we call Christmas in the great U.S. of A.

So, in order to lighten the mood and/or add to your currently happy mood, I write a letter each year to each member of my Master List of People I send Christmas Cards To (which changes every year, and sometimes gets, well, smaller).

It’s a spoof on those glorious, wonderful, and annoying form letters we all get from someone each year. There’s pictures from Helsinki, baby’s first footprint, a cat with antlers, and there’s always someone who just graduated with their third doctorate.

Sure, I understand why they’re created. It’s easy to write one letter and send it to everyone once per year. It’s a burden the USPS bears that until now hasn’t been exposed for what it really is:  A easy way to brag gloat annoy catch up with everyone from your sixth distant cousin to your favorite dentist.

In this next post, I’ll be offering some tips and guidelines to find that perfect balance between arrogance and information.

In a form letter.

Coming soon! Sometime before Christmas, 2012.

PEACE TO ALL THIS HOLIDAY SEASON.

]]> http://thestorritellerpost.com/2012/11/15/were-here-were-awesome-and-we-have-no-problems-a-holiday-post/feed/ 18 storritellerpost Christmas-Vacation someecards babyboomerbaloneydotcom http://thestorritellerpost.com/2012/11/04/im-too-sexy-for-this-jerk/ http://thestorritellerpost.com/2012/11/04/im-too-sexy-for-this-jerk/#comments Sun, 04 Nov 2012 15:00:27 +0000 The Storriteller Post http://thestorritellerpost.com/?p=1552 ]]>

One night at a local bar, a man said to a woman, “just because you’re uncomfortable with your SIZE…”

Calmly, she stood up and gathered her things. Calmly, she walked over to the bartender and told him “this man is paying for my drinks.” Calmly, she stood there a second, glared at the felonious offender, then turned and blurted out to no one in particular, “I’m newly fat.” He ran after her, apologized for his “unforgivable statement,” but she fled in tears, humiliated. (According to the look on her face, she wanted to kick him in the nuts.)

You see, whether you’re a woman or a man, today’s society has no tolerance for “fat” people. Never mind we don’t always know “why” someone has gained a few pounds, or “why,” since being overweight is apparently at an all-time high across the United States, we punish people for not being “perfect” or not being a “normal” size.

But what is a “normal” size?

Per WebMD.com, author Pamela Peeke, MD, MPH, FACP notes the following historical facts:  “The average starlet is wearing a Size 2 or 4 which is the sample size designers are making presently. Today, the average American woman …has a dress size of 12-14…curiously, over the past twenty years, fashion model sizes have dropped from a Size 8 to 0…There used to be a uniform sizing system for women’s clothes until the U.S. Department of Commerce dropped it in 1983 noting that “traditional sizes were no longer reflecting the size and shape of the average consumer”…Plus, sizing from brand to brand is so variable that most women fill their closets with at least two or three different sizes.”

No wonder we’re confused!!!!

I sure am.

FOR MEN:

If you’re a man, you have that magic pants size number in your head from your college days, right? And, you might stress a bit about a slight paunch in your middle that magically appeared around age 30? If you go buy that pair of jeans or slacks, you might even err on the side of the pants being uncomfortable because you just want to wear something that resembles what you used to wear in college or when you first got married. You’re slightly pained by the whole process, but you’ve got other things on your mind to worry about. Big things. Important things. Men think like boxcars of a train–they’re able to compartmentalize.

However, today’s society is starting to put more pressure on men to be handsome, rich, and perfect.  Men are getting buttocks implants, having Botox and wrinkle procedures, and even having their legs broken and stretched out so they’re taller. Now, men have to worry about making money and being a success PLUS looking good.

FOR WOMEN:

If you read today’s headlines, and according to our WebMD guru, above, it’s generally understood that the “average” or “normal size” of an American woman is a size 14.

A size 14.

Marilyn Monroe was a size 14-16.

So, why are virtually no mannequins a size 14 unless they’re in the “WOMEN’s” section? Why is that Special Section of clothes separated from other departments within the store? I mean, it’s for the “average” woman, right? Shall we just get a giant, red, neon sign with a yellow arrow that says: “If you’re an “average” woman, you’re ugly, fat and, ahem! You need to, ah, go over there to shop”?!

And don’t get me started on skinny jeans or jeans labeled in European sizes (Jessica Simpson, I’m talking to you–and you’re not even European! If I have to mentally calculate a European pant size into an American size one more time, I’m moving to Maine, getting six cats, and living the rest of my life in Spandex.)

If you’re a man, and you haven’t already run screaming to the hills, stay tuned. This could help you with your relationship with your wife/girlfriend/mistress:

Following is a short list of recent, actual examples of what I’ve personally been through. Just going about my day. In a good mood. Just minding my own business. These scenarios are 100% unprompted, and I think very representative of what the “average” woman today goes through.

>>>I joined a new gym. Love the gym. Love the people. You get a new T-shirt with the gym logo on it when you sign up. Did I want one? Sure, I say, as Twiggy-With-An-Eating-Disorder shuffles over to me, looks me up and down like I’m the cast-off skin of a snake, and announces to God and everyone: “Here’s the LARGE size. I’m, ah, thinking it will, ah, fit you?” I take the shirt. I look at the shirt. Jesus Lord of My Soul. Hell, no, this fucking shirt won’t fit me. It will barely fit over one breast. Frankly, I was a pencil as a preteen, and it would have been tight on me then. And THIS is today’s LARGE??!

>>>I got the “she’s a fatty” treatment at Neiman Marcus. Generally, I don’t buy items there. It’s expensive. But on occasion, I will splurge on something special, like a classic item I’ll have for years. My last experience went something like this:

I had to hunt down a salesperson to wait on me (like stalking prey in the wild), until I finally found a snotty female who did everything but snicker at me when I told her I was looking for a “classic white blouse.” Following is a list of her comments, unedited:

     ”We might have something in your size.”

     ”You know, if you just need a white shirt, you might try J. Crew.”

     ”This is a boutique store. There might be a designer or two YOU can wear.”

     ”This blouse is REAL SILK. So, there are imperfections in it.” (After I commented I didn’t like the location of the imperfection–across my boob–and would like another of the same, exact shirt. Yeah, Ms. Get-a-Clue, and I’ve got a doctorate in Silk Moth Science AND Textiles. Duh. Like I didn’t know there were imperfections in real silk. Go fuck yourself.)

)*^*(%#(&^(%!!!!!!

As our beloved Oprah once said: “Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?”

Here’s a newsflash, people: I’m PROUD to be a woman. I’ve earned it. I’m no wussy girl. I’m tough. I’m a survivor. I can kick snotty twiggy ass from here to kingdom come if I want to. I choose not to. Because I also have class. This is another character trait you learn when you’re a WOMAN.

Would Jennifer Lopez, Sofia Vergara, or the Kardashians be as sexy and get as much press if they were pole thin?

I also have to say the back-and-forth of “you’re too fat” and “embrace yourself as you are” wears me out. Make up your mind, already. Oh, wait. We’re all individuals! Wow. Now there’s a newsflash a WOMAN would understand.

Enough.

This has to stop.

Every person is beautiful.

FOR EVERYONE:

Whether you’re a man or woman, here’s some tips as to what you can do to stop this insanity:

1)  Always treat others with respect. If you loathe people of ”average” size, chances are you may not have lived through what they have. Chances are if you HAD, you’d look exactly like them or worse. And frankly, maybe they don’t give a shit because they are just glad to be alive after a devastating car accident, the death of a family member, or a horrible food allergy. These are things YOU have no way of knowing, so please, err on the side of kindness and save the superiority complex for the mirror.

2)  Realize that just because you’re “perfect” now, doesn’t mean you’ll look perfect in the future. Exterior beauty with a bad attitude has a way of making a beautiful person really ugly.

3)  There IS such a thing as karma. Whether you believe the Golden Rule or not, putting out negative energy into the Universe is not the way to go.

4)  Just because the salesperson/person on the elevator/person in the grocery store line is nasty, doesn’t mean it’s always about you. Maybe they just got dumped. Or found out their spouse was cheating. Or that a parent has cancer. It’s not always about you. Remember that before you rack ‘em in the nuts.

5)  Never underestimate a normal person in normal clothes. This is for you salesfolks out there: My Momma taught me my money spends just as well as the next person’s money! [If you don't get my drift, let me put it this way: I'm guessing T. Boone Pickens and Warren Buffett don't always look like they strolled over from the Whiskey Room at the Country Club.]

6)  Don’t be a jerk. I really don’t need to explain this one, do I?

Well, maybe I do.

To the man who spoke so rudely
to the woman at the bar the other night:

I’m proud of who I am.

And if it happens again…

You’re paying for all my drinks.
And all my friend’s drinks, too.

*All photos in this post taken by the author.

Ever feel like an outcast when shopping at a department store?

Ever want to kick the salesperson (or any person)
in the netherregions for being a jerk?

We have.

Check back on Sunday, November 4, 2012, for our post titled:
“I’m Too Sexy…To Be a Jerk.”

It’s a commentary about how society defines “average” clothing sizes
(I mean, we’re not all a size 0, people!!).

That’s me, above. When I’m about 80.

See you then!

My next post?

Next post will go live on November 4th.

Thanks, everyone, for checking in on the newbie.

I’ve noticed one of today’s trends is naming bars and restaurants with just one word.

“Hey, Susie! Let’s all rush out to GLASS over on Oak Road, shall we?”  ”Bob, do you want to meet tonight at KNIFE?”  ”Jennifer, I heard TABLE is pretty hot right now. Shall we try it Friday?”

Here’s a great example from the show *Family Guy:

CLICK HERE

So the words “restaurant” and “bar” after a name are no longer status quo (the only exception to this seems to be greasy-spoon diners–they’re still considered hip, and don’t mind being called “diners”).

Wow. We are so. Bad. Ass.

Where does this trend come from?

WELL.

My research didn’t render anything too scientific.

However, the consensus is:

• We’re so distracted these days, we can only remember one word at a time.
• Saving Money–the owner wants to save money on a sign so one word is cheaper than three.
• It just sounds, well, cool. I mean, who doesn’t want to be cool?

I don’t hate the one-word trend.  But it seems like an overblown ego wrapped in a little stupidity.

Are we getting dumber or simplifying?

I’m not sure what’s going on, frankly.  I’ll leave that to the experts to decide; however, I think there are social norms that shouldn’t be crossed, as reflected in the following potential bar/restaurant names:

DrUnK

BLOat

sLAB

PLANk

GAS

JEsus

CURTAINS

sPORk

FeeT

Well, I could go on forever.

But I don’t have any more time today.

I’ve got to finish reading BARK magazine, tape an episode of the CHEW,
then rush out to meet a friend at FLOR.

[*Note: The title of this post is MY nod to the creators of Family Guy.]

]]> http://thestorritellerpost.com/2012/10/07/place/feed/ 10 storritellerpost www.miami-info.com www.restaurantsofnyc.com October 1-2012 058 http://thestorritellerpost.com/2012/10/01/coming-this-sunday-whats-the-deal-with-one-word-bars-and-restaurants/ http://thestorritellerpost.com/2012/10/01/coming-this-sunday-whats-the-deal-with-one-word-bars-and-restaurants/#comments Tue, 02 Oct 2012 01:30:37 +0000 The Storriteller Post http://thestorritellerpost.com/?p=1477 ]]>
Hi. My name is S.N.A.C.K. Let’s eat!

There’s a one-word phenom hitting the bar and restaurant industry by storm.

Why?

Find.

Out.

On.

Sunday @ 7:00 p.m. C.S.T.!

You may or may not be familiar with the movie Bride Wars. Plot: Girls are Best Friends, then become enemies when they want the same venue on the same day. They get caught up in the wedding planning instead of planning their lives.

CLICK HERE for a great clip.

Each time I open the Sunday newspaper, there’s a Wedding/Engagement/Anniversary section that catches my eye. I can’t help but read what the captions say, and chuckle at words like “soul mate” and “love of my life.” Not because I’m cynical or cold-hearted or bitter.  But because I wonder how their lives turn out after a photo spread worthy of a Presidential candidate.

*Yeah, I really love myself.
But I’m trying really hard not to look like I do.

Some argue it’s for posterity, or “they’ll have the photos forever,” or “this only happens once in a lifetime, so I want it perfect.”

Ah, my girl. That’s where you might be a little too idealistic.

Do people really remember anything about a wedding that isn’t theirs unless 1) the food is shitty, 2) there was a ton of booze (or not), 3) you were one of the people getting married, or 4) you were one of the people helping to pay for the event?

My dear, sweet girl. In case you’re unsure: NO.

Will it matter when you’re vomiting through your first trimester that you wore a “Super Expensive Designer Haute Couture blush ivory cotton lace over champagne charmeuse modified A-line gown, featuring a sweetheart neckline, softly draped bodice (natural waist accented with crystal ribbon trim), and an open sheer back and sweep train”?

Will it matter when you’re working 65+ hours per week to make Partner that you graduated from “The Very Prestigious Private High School” with a 4.0 grade average?

Can Kappa Kappa Gamma save you from your husband cheating on you?

My dear, sweet girl. In case you’re unsure: NO.

The Four Seasons Resort at Punta Mita might kick off your married life in a sexy, grande way.  A designer gown might make you feel like a princess for a day, and graduating with honors from Vanderbilt University might get you in the door of your favorite firm.

This wedding business has nothing to do with Married Life.

Reality.

The Rest of Your Life.

Question: Does your man mind holding up your hair when you’re sick?

Question: Does that same man care you can work 65+ hours a week if you come home a total bitch?

Question: Does that man care you chose bouquets that were “hand-adorned” with flowers? (Special note: If that’s the case, we may need to switch gears, indeed.)

My dear, sweet girl. In case you’re unsure, the answer should be : NO.

If you’re one of the lucky ones, be thankful. Don’t worry about getting things perfect and spending your nest egg on an announcement that only you and a handful of others even care about.

Spend it on time together. It could be with a shrink, on the “we screwed up but might as well enjoy it” boat, watching episodes of Family Guy with Dog, or thanking GOD in joint prayer together for great painkillers because you just got an e-coli infection in your finger and had to have fingernail surgery. It could be any of those scenarios.

That’s Life. That’s what it’s all about.

Now look down below your newspaper spread.

See the the couples on the other side of your printed page?

The part that says: “Married 50 Years”?

Now THAT, my dear, sweet girl, is something to announce.

*Photos courtesy of allmoviephoto.com and woobicha.com, respectively.

Stay tuned!

This Sunday’s post is titled On Obnoxious Wedding Announcements.

Dogs are better than people. Case in point: Dog, Sept. 2012, above. Look at that face. That smile. That tongue. Look at that dog and tell me it’s not better than Cranky Pants Susie. Tell me it doesn’t remind you of things you already know but have forgotten.  Things like:

Living in the present
True joy
How to chase rodents
Eating with gusto
Sleeping with aplomb
Feeling emotions in “real time”

Cranky Pants Susie doesn’t teach us these things. We avoid Cranky Pants Susie at all costs. If we can’t avoid her–say, we run into her on the street, at the salon, in the grocery store, or in traffic, we are reminded again how we, as humans, should be more like Dog. Cranky Pants Susie reminds us of:

Living in the Past or Future
Joy brought about externally, not internally
Rodents? Well, we’ll let her slide on that one
Eating with GUILT
Sleeping…rarely
Feeling emotions…later.
Better yet, feeling emotions after a full bottle of wine
then blurting them out as Verbal Vile to the closest listener.

Dog doesn’t do this.

Dog listens.

Dog feels.

Dog knows when Susie Cranky Pants is about to explode,
or is exploding, and cowers in the corner. 

We all should be so lucky as Susie Cranky Pants.

To have Dog as her Friend.

[Coming Next Week: On Obnoxious Wedding Announcements.]

]]> http://thestorritellerpost.com/2012/09/23/dogs-are-better-than-people/feed/ 75 storritellerpost Dog in Sept.