I got a headlight fixed this Saturday and my usually very nice mechanic yelled at me because my car had NO oil in it. I kept looking at him like he was crazy (his English is not that great), so he stopped trying to explain and showed me. He pulled the dip stick out 3 times, and each time it came out clean and dry. I was shocked, where did it go? I figured it was dirty, but gone? I didn't know that was an option.
I love my car, (her name is Kanadi) but since I only use her to get back and forth 20 blocks to work and to happy hour on U Street, I sometimes forget the general care and feeding she requires. How dirty can the oil really get in the garage at my office? I was supposed to get it changed in October, but don’t I get a few months buffer since she’s a “kept” car? Those timeframes are for the “worker cars” that commute to far places, like Fairfax or Baltimore. My car is a social car; her oil should have some extra mileage to it.
OK, maybe not.
He asked me what I wanted to do about this oil situation, so I asked him to add some (leaving with it empty seemed like a bad idea) and I would get it changed on Monday. I had plans that night and it took him longer to change the broken light than I expected. I still needed to get dressed and didn’t want to be late.
He replied “That’s ok, just leave it as it is. We do broken engine here too. You can just bring it back then.”
Humph. Smart ass.
His English got real clear on that one.
It’s now Monday and as instructed, I am getting the oil changed. I'm sitting here secretly thinking that it should be half price - since it was empty and all to start. I know this isn’t an option on the price list, but technically, it’s not really a change but a fill. From my perspective, that is like half the work. I should at least get some free windshield washer fluid or something.
Your BCG grease monkey
Monday, January 18, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
A Lady Friend by Any Other Name
As relationships outside of marriage morph from occasional sex partner to live-in “others,” I’m memorized by the titles we use and what they really imply. So I thought I’d give a BCG definition to some of the more common ones.
=====CAUTION======
You have been called some of these things in the past by someone you dated. Once or twice could be just a slip, but if this is all he/she calls you… take note.
If that upsets you, your problem is with that person, not me. If you email me/post a comment with your particular story, and insist that you are different and my rules don’t apply to you, I’m going to be polite and say “Yes you are. Your situation is special and you mean more to him/her than that. He/she feels stronger for you and you are the exception that falls outside of these silly rules.”
Please know, I don’t really mean it. It’s just something I will say to be considerate of your feelings and make me seem like a nicer person. I’m not a jerk, and don’t want to make you feel bad. But I can’t change the facts or tell you what to do about them. So please direct your fussing to the proper person.
NAMES MEN GIVE WOMEN
Girlfriend/ Wifey
You have been in the mix for a while; maybe even years. You make dinner, do the laundry, help in a pinch, or just look great when you go out (relationship specifics may vary). He realizes in return he is supposed to be faithful, available, and supportive. He may not accomplish any or all of these 3, but understands that his failure will result in a “We need to talk” moment. He cares enough to sign-up for that, and introduces you to his boys.
Friend
You may or may not be someone he has dated. He values/respect you enough to want you in his life, even in a casual way. It includes women that he has slept with, or would like to sleep with, in addition to acquaintances and associates with no sexual connection. If there is a sexual connection, there is no exclusiveness, even if you think there is. He feels open to wander and explore any and all other options at his (in)discretion.
Lady Friend
He does not intend to see you much past this one time when he had to introduce you. He isn’t concerned if you will be friends long-term. He might not think your smart enough or pretty enough. What ever the situation, this is one step above “Woman I went out with once, sort of. But it was nothing.” Don’t take it personally, keep it moving and make sure he pays for dinner. It’s the least he can do.
Shorty
The song says it all “Even though I’m not your man your not my girl I’m a call you my Shor…..ty.” You are amazing in bed and quite the freak. You should teach a class. You get to go with him to the club, boy’s weekend in Vegas, and your phone consistently rings after 2am. Take a look now- can you see any calls from him in your log before midnight? You will never be the wife, or even the mistress, because then he would have to buy you stuff; and that just won’t happen. Know that he enjoys you, and is vocal about it. So vocal that you shouldn’t be surprised if his friends start to call to see if they can have a ride.
NAMES WOMEN GIVE TO MEN
Boyfriend
You are it. She is supportive, nurturing, and attentive. She loves and cherishes you. She makes that pic of the two of you together her face book profile picture and is sure that her status says she is off the market. She goes out of her way to do things for you; because when you’re happy, she’s happy. You might fight, but she always tries to make up. She makes sure that girl’s night out ends promptly at 9pm…before anyone can be confused about the fact that she has a man at home.
Friend
You may be one of the following: man she would like to date, man she dated before but isn’t interest in sleeping with again, the guy she lived next to in grammar school, the dude in her office that asks every day if she still has a boyfriend, the guy she slept with in Jamaica that weekend her man went to Rio with the fellas, the guy at the bakery who always saves her a cookie, the dude she met on spring break and always wondered if he would be good in bed, her high school sweetheart, the guy she was dating right before she met her current boyfriend, her group mate from college who always tutored her that she kissed once, the guy that she met at a networking event who spits when he talks, or the guy her friend has been trying to fix her up with for years (particularly every time her man messes up).
I hope that clears it all up for you.
=====CAUTION======
You have been called some of these things in the past by someone you dated. Once or twice could be just a slip, but if this is all he/she calls you… take note.
If that upsets you, your problem is with that person, not me. If you email me/post a comment with your particular story, and insist that you are different and my rules don’t apply to you, I’m going to be polite and say “Yes you are. Your situation is special and you mean more to him/her than that. He/she feels stronger for you and you are the exception that falls outside of these silly rules.”
Please know, I don’t really mean it. It’s just something I will say to be considerate of your feelings and make me seem like a nicer person. I’m not a jerk, and don’t want to make you feel bad. But I can’t change the facts or tell you what to do about them. So please direct your fussing to the proper person.
NAMES MEN GIVE WOMEN
Girlfriend/ Wifey
You have been in the mix for a while; maybe even years. You make dinner, do the laundry, help in a pinch, or just look great when you go out (relationship specifics may vary). He realizes in return he is supposed to be faithful, available, and supportive. He may not accomplish any or all of these 3, but understands that his failure will result in a “We need to talk” moment. He cares enough to sign-up for that, and introduces you to his boys.
Friend
You may or may not be someone he has dated. He values/respect you enough to want you in his life, even in a casual way. It includes women that he has slept with, or would like to sleep with, in addition to acquaintances and associates with no sexual connection. If there is a sexual connection, there is no exclusiveness, even if you think there is. He feels open to wander and explore any and all other options at his (in)discretion.
Lady Friend
He does not intend to see you much past this one time when he had to introduce you. He isn’t concerned if you will be friends long-term. He might not think your smart enough or pretty enough. What ever the situation, this is one step above “Woman I went out with once, sort of. But it was nothing.” Don’t take it personally, keep it moving and make sure he pays for dinner. It’s the least he can do.
Shorty
The song says it all “Even though I’m not your man your not my girl I’m a call you my Shor…..ty.” You are amazing in bed and quite the freak. You should teach a class. You get to go with him to the club, boy’s weekend in Vegas, and your phone consistently rings after 2am. Take a look now- can you see any calls from him in your log before midnight? You will never be the wife, or even the mistress, because then he would have to buy you stuff; and that just won’t happen. Know that he enjoys you, and is vocal about it. So vocal that you shouldn’t be surprised if his friends start to call to see if they can have a ride.
NAMES WOMEN GIVE TO MEN
Boyfriend
You are it. She is supportive, nurturing, and attentive. She loves and cherishes you. She makes that pic of the two of you together her face book profile picture and is sure that her status says she is off the market. She goes out of her way to do things for you; because when you’re happy, she’s happy. You might fight, but she always tries to make up. She makes sure that girl’s night out ends promptly at 9pm…before anyone can be confused about the fact that she has a man at home.
Friend
You may be one of the following: man she would like to date, man she dated before but isn’t interest in sleeping with again, the guy she lived next to in grammar school, the dude in her office that asks every day if she still has a boyfriend, the guy she slept with in Jamaica that weekend her man went to Rio with the fellas, the guy at the bakery who always saves her a cookie, the dude she met on spring break and always wondered if he would be good in bed, her high school sweetheart, the guy she was dating right before she met her current boyfriend, her group mate from college who always tutored her that she kissed once, the guy that she met at a networking event who spits when he talks, or the guy her friend has been trying to fix her up with for years (particularly every time her man messes up).
I hope that clears it all up for you.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The New Jersey Freeway
My frequent trips back and forth to Jersey have been the subject of intense speculation among my friends and family. I make the trips quickly (3 hours or less) and everyone knows I hate driving. So how does this Big City Girl do it? Well here is “The True Hollywood Story.”
I find a playmate.
Disclaimer – If you are traveling with me as a guest in my car, you are safe and sound as a passenger. I will mind the speed limit (you know, within a few miles plus or…well plus) but there are no fun and games. Hands on the wheel – ten and two.
Now by myself, on the New Jersey Turnpike - that is another story. I like to find someone who can entertain me during my adventure.
How does this happen? Well let me tell you –
This playmate usually finds me, rather than the other way around. It will be an un-suspecting person, speeding just a bit more than me, who gets too close to my rear bumper in the fast lane. I notice this, move over quickly to let them pass, then zip back to reciprocate this very rude, pushy driving.
Now if I were a guy, or a wildebeest, the person in question would find me to be either aggressive or very annoying. But I’m usually rapping along to Jay-z or Drake, dancing in my little blue car, and they tend to find it cute rather than obnoxious.
Then the real driving begins. Weaving, bobbing, driving along, we end up tracing a ribbon through the cars going 60-70 miles an hour like a retro Frogger game.
One such game is what got me home this fine Christmas. I found an appropriate playmate and we were zipping and dipping along the parkway accelerating and falling back, keeping in sight all the way.
Let’s pause, for a minute and define what makes an appropriate playmate for this activity.
1 -- This person must be male and in the car by himself. Girlfriends, wives, and mothers do not tend to like this game and male friends make faces and gestures in the passenger seat as if there are the ones doing the driving. Annoying.
2 -- This person should have tags from a place in the direction of my destination. New York and New Jersey are good going north, Maryland, Virginia, DC going south. Pennsylvania and Delaware folks tend not to want to play, and they get off at exits I don’t pay attention to. Playing with them could make me end up in…Pittsburgh. And who wants that?
3 -- This person (let’s just call him a guy) must be driving a little care like mine. He can not have a mini van or a hummer. A Honda, an Accord, and the diamond logo cars work well. They move quickly and can keep up.
So I found such a playmate on my most recent trip. Let’s call him Mr. Maryland crab license plates. He thought he was pushing me to the side of the fast lane, but when I followed him and then passed him, our little game was on.
We weaved and smiled and flirted for about 90 minutes, which was a great way to pass the time. That turnpike is no joke and boring as hell. I pulled in front of him a ways and about 10 minutes later he caught up.
I looked over and said “Oh there you are” and I guess he could read my lips because he laughed.
We hit some traffic, things slowed down, and he was behind me, out of sight, a few cars back. We got to the end of the turnpike, approached the toll, and then he did the unthinkable. He pulled out of the easy pass lane and moved into the cash only lane.
Cash only? Who gets onto the turnpike Christmas weekend without an easy pass? That cash only line stretched the length of Delaware. Are you kidding?
I zipped into the easy pass lane, not even stopping, now listening to Kanye. Like dancing with a guy at the club, when the song changes, you move on.
It was fun while it lasted.
BCG – Drivers wanted.
I find a playmate.
Disclaimer – If you are traveling with me as a guest in my car, you are safe and sound as a passenger. I will mind the speed limit (you know, within a few miles plus or…well plus) but there are no fun and games. Hands on the wheel – ten and two.
Now by myself, on the New Jersey Turnpike - that is another story. I like to find someone who can entertain me during my adventure.
How does this happen? Well let me tell you –
This playmate usually finds me, rather than the other way around. It will be an un-suspecting person, speeding just a bit more than me, who gets too close to my rear bumper in the fast lane. I notice this, move over quickly to let them pass, then zip back to reciprocate this very rude, pushy driving.
Now if I were a guy, or a wildebeest, the person in question would find me to be either aggressive or very annoying. But I’m usually rapping along to Jay-z or Drake, dancing in my little blue car, and they tend to find it cute rather than obnoxious.
Then the real driving begins. Weaving, bobbing, driving along, we end up tracing a ribbon through the cars going 60-70 miles an hour like a retro Frogger game.
One such game is what got me home this fine Christmas. I found an appropriate playmate and we were zipping and dipping along the parkway accelerating and falling back, keeping in sight all the way.
Let’s pause, for a minute and define what makes an appropriate playmate for this activity.
1 -- This person must be male and in the car by himself. Girlfriends, wives, and mothers do not tend to like this game and male friends make faces and gestures in the passenger seat as if there are the ones doing the driving. Annoying.
2 -- This person should have tags from a place in the direction of my destination. New York and New Jersey are good going north, Maryland, Virginia, DC going south. Pennsylvania and Delaware folks tend not to want to play, and they get off at exits I don’t pay attention to. Playing with them could make me end up in…Pittsburgh. And who wants that?
3 -- This person (let’s just call him a guy) must be driving a little care like mine. He can not have a mini van or a hummer. A Honda, an Accord, and the diamond logo cars work well. They move quickly and can keep up.
So I found such a playmate on my most recent trip. Let’s call him Mr. Maryland crab license plates. He thought he was pushing me to the side of the fast lane, but when I followed him and then passed him, our little game was on.
We weaved and smiled and flirted for about 90 minutes, which was a great way to pass the time. That turnpike is no joke and boring as hell. I pulled in front of him a ways and about 10 minutes later he caught up.
I looked over and said “Oh there you are” and I guess he could read my lips because he laughed.
We hit some traffic, things slowed down, and he was behind me, out of sight, a few cars back. We got to the end of the turnpike, approached the toll, and then he did the unthinkable. He pulled out of the easy pass lane and moved into the cash only lane.
Cash only? Who gets onto the turnpike Christmas weekend without an easy pass? That cash only line stretched the length of Delaware. Are you kidding?
I zipped into the easy pass lane, not even stopping, now listening to Kanye. Like dancing with a guy at the club, when the song changes, you move on.
It was fun while it lasted.
BCG – Drivers wanted.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thinking for the Holidays
Someone asked me to write my next blog on being alone for the holidays.
At first, I thought he was being silly and short sighted. Everyone has their family and friends that love them. Even if you aren’t in a relationship, I’m quiet certain you are far from alone.
Then the blizzard hit.
2 days stuck in the house. Christmas love stories are on every channel and work has slowed to a halt as people power down until the New Year.
It’s enough to make you loose your mind.
I’m one of those girls who are always busy. I fill every minute of every day with every thing. My “to do list” is my guide and I find satisfaction in checking things off that list. Life moves quickly and constantly; a convenient by-product is that staying busy means I don’t get many moments where I have to confront what I am choosing not to focus on.
Like a relationship.
I don’t make time find answers to these questions: Is a relationship important or not? Do I want to try and work towards one? Am I being hard on the guys I have dated recently? Should give them more of a chance? Have I walked away from something great?
I just keep moving. I assume that what I say I’m looking for really does exists somewhere and I will find it when I’m supposed. That I shouldn’t just try to make it work with someone I don’t feel a connection to. In the mean time, checking the boxes on my list is much more fulfilling than pondering these really hard questions that have speculations and no real answers.
And then I got snowed in.
No work to distract me, no clients calling for reports. I’ve wrapped all of my gifts and washed all my clothes. I’ve watched 8 movies and it is still 4 hours earlier than I ever go to bed on a Saturday night.
What am I supposed to do now?
It’s the stillness that makes it tough for people to be single during these months. Your world slows to a halt. It allows you time to think. It forces you to think. You realize that in some areas of your life, you are a rock star. In others, you are no further along then you were when you moved out of your parents’ house those many years ago.
And oh yeah!! THAT is right around the corner. The family dinners where they try very hard to pretend they understand why you are still single. Pretend they understand why you needed that next promotion, that second or third degree, or whatever it is you have focused on that keeps you from figuring out the love thing. They pretend that they get why that last guy wasn’t the one; and the truth is they don’t. They want to understand, because they love you. They want you to be happy, and they just don’t believe you are.
Add in a few sappy Christmas romances and those “Every Kiss begins with K” commercials and its enough to make you pull your hair out while you question all of the choices you made throughout the first 11 months of the year.
So to my friend, I’m sorry I pre-judged you. I was too busy checking off boxes to realize how much many of us can empathize with you.
We will find love when its right and it shouldn’t be seasonally motivated. Don’t let Zale’s convince you it has to be this month. In solidarity, I’m going to go erase all of the numbers in my phone for the “maybe I should give him another chance, he wasn’t THAT bad” guys. There might be several more hours before its safe to drive, and I don’t want to be tempted to give them another chance I wouldn’t even consider in the sunshine of April.
And don’t worry, Martin Luther King’s Day is right around the corner; it seems that the world goes back to normal then...
- Your BCG Snow Angel
At first, I thought he was being silly and short sighted. Everyone has their family and friends that love them. Even if you aren’t in a relationship, I’m quiet certain you are far from alone.
Then the blizzard hit.
2 days stuck in the house. Christmas love stories are on every channel and work has slowed to a halt as people power down until the New Year.
It’s enough to make you loose your mind.
I’m one of those girls who are always busy. I fill every minute of every day with every thing. My “to do list” is my guide and I find satisfaction in checking things off that list. Life moves quickly and constantly; a convenient by-product is that staying busy means I don’t get many moments where I have to confront what I am choosing not to focus on.
Like a relationship.
I don’t make time find answers to these questions: Is a relationship important or not? Do I want to try and work towards one? Am I being hard on the guys I have dated recently? Should give them more of a chance? Have I walked away from something great?
I just keep moving. I assume that what I say I’m looking for really does exists somewhere and I will find it when I’m supposed. That I shouldn’t just try to make it work with someone I don’t feel a connection to. In the mean time, checking the boxes on my list is much more fulfilling than pondering these really hard questions that have speculations and no real answers.
And then I got snowed in.
No work to distract me, no clients calling for reports. I’ve wrapped all of my gifts and washed all my clothes. I’ve watched 8 movies and it is still 4 hours earlier than I ever go to bed on a Saturday night.
What am I supposed to do now?
It’s the stillness that makes it tough for people to be single during these months. Your world slows to a halt. It allows you time to think. It forces you to think. You realize that in some areas of your life, you are a rock star. In others, you are no further along then you were when you moved out of your parents’ house those many years ago.
And oh yeah!! THAT is right around the corner. The family dinners where they try very hard to pretend they understand why you are still single. Pretend they understand why you needed that next promotion, that second or third degree, or whatever it is you have focused on that keeps you from figuring out the love thing. They pretend that they get why that last guy wasn’t the one; and the truth is they don’t. They want to understand, because they love you. They want you to be happy, and they just don’t believe you are.
Add in a few sappy Christmas romances and those “Every Kiss begins with K” commercials and its enough to make you pull your hair out while you question all of the choices you made throughout the first 11 months of the year.
So to my friend, I’m sorry I pre-judged you. I was too busy checking off boxes to realize how much many of us can empathize with you.
We will find love when its right and it shouldn’t be seasonally motivated. Don’t let Zale’s convince you it has to be this month. In solidarity, I’m going to go erase all of the numbers in my phone for the “maybe I should give him another chance, he wasn’t THAT bad” guys. There might be several more hours before its safe to drive, and I don’t want to be tempted to give them another chance I wouldn’t even consider in the sunshine of April.
And don’t worry, Martin Luther King’s Day is right around the corner; it seems that the world goes back to normal then...
- Your BCG Snow Angel
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Happiness does not equal raw eggs and flour
A woman I went to college with was featured today in the Washington Post for her upcoming novel “Bitch is the New Black.” Tickled to see someone I know in the news, I started googling to get the full story. While I’m excited by the concept of the book the way she describes herself it in the video interview gave me pause – because it’s something I’ve heard a lot.
She said “I’m a successful black woman” several times, listed off the things that validated the statement, and then says she isn’t happy. I know many women who describe themselves this way, and they too end up in that same place at the end of the sentence. “I’m a successful black woman, why can’t I find love or happiness?”
It might be worth while to go back to the beginning of the sentence and see where we made a wrong turn.
What is success? I’ve heard it described a number of ways: having a degree (or two), a house, a car, a job, the right clothes, and/or invites to the right parties. Some women define it as beginning married or having a child. But in many cases, all of this “success” is not accompanied with happiness.
If what you want is happiness, then are you really successful without it?
Someone along the way told us the work is done once you get the tools. We want a cake - so we get the eggs, sugar, and the flour…. but we leave them on the counter and go get ready for the club. We go out, drink, dance, have a good time, and wonder why we don’t have a cake with cute rose petal frosting details when we get back. We want the results but have not done the work.
Since we as women, of any color, were not allowed to get the tools before, we have come to see these as important markers. Getting the degrees, the job, our own things, are accomplishments we should be proud of. But they are not the end of the road. The sacrifice, the balance, the compromise of giving outside of ourselves in a relationship, for our career, or for our children, that’s a whole different thing.
We have been allowed to say “no thanks” to the parts that are hard, so we do. We shun being in relationships that are not “worthy of us” and turn our noses up at anything that falls short of our fabulous definitions. We are not our mother or grandmothers. We have tools and tools equal options. We have the option of only investing in what we want, and not settling for less. And we hold onto our options like badges of honor and wear them like a shield against being mediocre and common. We pat ourselves on the back for not having to slave like our for-mothers did, and yet wonder why we are all alone.
But what we are realizing is that our mothers and their mothers were not sacrificing because they were less fabulous than we are. It was something different. And to find our own happiness, we will have to see some parts of them in ourselves.
Many of us have the ingredients for happiness, but have not actually started baking. We haven’t gotten to the hard part of what true happiness is, and wonder where our “happiness prize” is.
But, happiness is not an entitlement. It is the result of soul searching, giving, and loving. It is the byproduct of risks taken and challenges overcome. It is opening yourself and your heart to finding something that really matters -what ever that is– and committing yourself to it fully. If that is a job, a child, or a husband --- you get back what you put out.
Let me be honest - that first cake you make is going to suck. You are gonna mess it up somehow. But don’t be discouraged. Try again and again until you figure it out. You’ll know you have the right recipe when you think it’s perfect and the first thing you want to do is cut the first slice for someone else.
She said “I’m a successful black woman” several times, listed off the things that validated the statement, and then says she isn’t happy. I know many women who describe themselves this way, and they too end up in that same place at the end of the sentence. “I’m a successful black woman, why can’t I find love or happiness?”
It might be worth while to go back to the beginning of the sentence and see where we made a wrong turn.
What is success? I’ve heard it described a number of ways: having a degree (or two), a house, a car, a job, the right clothes, and/or invites to the right parties. Some women define it as beginning married or having a child. But in many cases, all of this “success” is not accompanied with happiness.
If what you want is happiness, then are you really successful without it?
Someone along the way told us the work is done once you get the tools. We want a cake - so we get the eggs, sugar, and the flour…. but we leave them on the counter and go get ready for the club. We go out, drink, dance, have a good time, and wonder why we don’t have a cake with cute rose petal frosting details when we get back. We want the results but have not done the work.
Since we as women, of any color, were not allowed to get the tools before, we have come to see these as important markers. Getting the degrees, the job, our own things, are accomplishments we should be proud of. But they are not the end of the road. The sacrifice, the balance, the compromise of giving outside of ourselves in a relationship, for our career, or for our children, that’s a whole different thing.
We have been allowed to say “no thanks” to the parts that are hard, so we do. We shun being in relationships that are not “worthy of us” and turn our noses up at anything that falls short of our fabulous definitions. We are not our mother or grandmothers. We have tools and tools equal options. We have the option of only investing in what we want, and not settling for less. And we hold onto our options like badges of honor and wear them like a shield against being mediocre and common. We pat ourselves on the back for not having to slave like our for-mothers did, and yet wonder why we are all alone.
But what we are realizing is that our mothers and their mothers were not sacrificing because they were less fabulous than we are. It was something different. And to find our own happiness, we will have to see some parts of them in ourselves.
Many of us have the ingredients for happiness, but have not actually started baking. We haven’t gotten to the hard part of what true happiness is, and wonder where our “happiness prize” is.
But, happiness is not an entitlement. It is the result of soul searching, giving, and loving. It is the byproduct of risks taken and challenges overcome. It is opening yourself and your heart to finding something that really matters -what ever that is– and committing yourself to it fully. If that is a job, a child, or a husband --- you get back what you put out.
Let me be honest - that first cake you make is going to suck. You are gonna mess it up somehow. But don’t be discouraged. Try again and again until you figure it out. You’ll know you have the right recipe when you think it’s perfect and the first thing you want to do is cut the first slice for someone else.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Women Who Burn Water and Men with Soft Hands
On facebook today, a friend posted this comment:
“A WOMAN AT MY JOB TOLD ME THAT IF YOU ARE OVER 25 AND CAN'T COOK A FULL COURSE MEAL THAN YOUR NOT A REAL WOMAN... LADIES HOW DO U FEEL ABOUT THIS??? AND MEN DO U CONCEDE TO MY CO-WORKER'S COMMENTS???”
Forty-five comments later (yes, 45!) I was overwhelmed by the responses by both men and woman. Is this how we measure our woman and ourselves?
News flash: The roles in society have changed. Once we all decided that the American Dream required 2 incomes to achieve, traditional gender roles flew out the window.
Marriage is a moving target. There isn’t a “one size fits all” definition anymore. I hear far more stories of women who rely on their husbands so much that after a divorce they can’t even balance their checkbooks. For those women, THAT concerns me far more than if she can whip up butternut squash soup and a pot roast.
And if you are not the bread winner, and your wife/girlfriend brings home the bacon rockin the board room, you better move your butt into that kitchen and fry her up some chicken. And at bonus time, you better call your grandma and get that special mac and cheese recipe. She’s earned it.
But more than anything, I’m done with the rampant discussion about what makes a real woman with little to no conversation around what makes a real man.
Exhibit A: I asked a guy recently to change a light bulb for me, and you would have thought I asked him to build the Great Wall of China. By hand. Alone. In a snow storm. Naked. He whined and moaned and in the end, he didn’t do it!
For some reason, the evolving positions in society make people feel 100% comfortable judging women for how they fall short of their “wife/womanly/ motherly roles” But men go unchecked.
Well…I’m going to say it. Men - being in the office has made some of you physically lazy, spoiled, and just plan soft. An hour on the elliptical machine is NOT the equivalent of fixing the dishwasher. Racquetball and golf are NOT equal to cleaning out the gutters. Some of you have outsourced your “manly” duties to illegal immigrants looking for work in the parking lot of the Home Depot. And no one has checked you on it until now.
So on both sides, let’s be honest about what is important and what is not. Would everyone love to have a well prepared meal waiting when they get home? Yes. (Shoot, me included) But for all of the single mothers I know, its more impressive to me that they can put food on the table at all…no matter how its prepared.
Would I love to have a man making six figures so I can stay home and watch “As the World Turns?” Hells yeah! But I would rather have a man who isn’t afraid to do what ever it takes to care for his family; be that a blue collar, white collar, green collar, or dirty collar job.
Let’s stop measuring ourselves by outdated criteria and give credit for all that make us truly great woman, men, and partners. We need to focus on being good to each other and stop trying to fit each other into these little tiny archaic boxes.
Any ladies (or guys) interested…I’m happy to offer cooking classes for my gumbo. It’s amazing. Or you can just pay me to make it for you. I’m a renaissance business woman.
“A WOMAN AT MY JOB TOLD ME THAT IF YOU ARE OVER 25 AND CAN'T COOK A FULL COURSE MEAL THAN YOUR NOT A REAL WOMAN... LADIES HOW DO U FEEL ABOUT THIS??? AND MEN DO U CONCEDE TO MY CO-WORKER'S COMMENTS???”
Forty-five comments later (yes, 45!) I was overwhelmed by the responses by both men and woman. Is this how we measure our woman and ourselves?
News flash: The roles in society have changed. Once we all decided that the American Dream required 2 incomes to achieve, traditional gender roles flew out the window.
Marriage is a moving target. There isn’t a “one size fits all” definition anymore. I hear far more stories of women who rely on their husbands so much that after a divorce they can’t even balance their checkbooks. For those women, THAT concerns me far more than if she can whip up butternut squash soup and a pot roast.
And if you are not the bread winner, and your wife/girlfriend brings home the bacon rockin the board room, you better move your butt into that kitchen and fry her up some chicken. And at bonus time, you better call your grandma and get that special mac and cheese recipe. She’s earned it.
But more than anything, I’m done with the rampant discussion about what makes a real woman with little to no conversation around what makes a real man.
Exhibit A: I asked a guy recently to change a light bulb for me, and you would have thought I asked him to build the Great Wall of China. By hand. Alone. In a snow storm. Naked. He whined and moaned and in the end, he didn’t do it!
For some reason, the evolving positions in society make people feel 100% comfortable judging women for how they fall short of their “wife/womanly/ motherly roles” But men go unchecked.
Well…I’m going to say it. Men - being in the office has made some of you physically lazy, spoiled, and just plan soft. An hour on the elliptical machine is NOT the equivalent of fixing the dishwasher. Racquetball and golf are NOT equal to cleaning out the gutters. Some of you have outsourced your “manly” duties to illegal immigrants looking for work in the parking lot of the Home Depot. And no one has checked you on it until now.
So on both sides, let’s be honest about what is important and what is not. Would everyone love to have a well prepared meal waiting when they get home? Yes. (Shoot, me included) But for all of the single mothers I know, its more impressive to me that they can put food on the table at all…no matter how its prepared.
Would I love to have a man making six figures so I can stay home and watch “As the World Turns?” Hells yeah! But I would rather have a man who isn’t afraid to do what ever it takes to care for his family; be that a blue collar, white collar, green collar, or dirty collar job.
Let’s stop measuring ourselves by outdated criteria and give credit for all that make us truly great woman, men, and partners. We need to focus on being good to each other and stop trying to fit each other into these little tiny archaic boxes.
Any ladies (or guys) interested…I’m happy to offer cooking classes for my gumbo. It’s amazing. Or you can just pay me to make it for you. I’m a renaissance business woman.
Friday, November 27, 2009
BCG Verses Wal-Mart
The alarm on the nightstand at my mother’s house was set for 3am this morning to wake us up for the unthinkable. The smell of turkey and pumpkin pie still lingering in the air, we made a pack – we were going to camp out at Wal-Mart.
All who know me know I hate Wal-Mart. They put small businesses out of business and bully their vendors. They deflate profit margins, make competition impossible, and are working towards a global monopoly where they could then price anyway they want.
But the economy is bad, so I’ll get off my soap box and admit if we are going to recover, people have to buy things – anywhere they can. I wanted to see first hand if we are on an up-tick. I also heard they were letting people sleep in the store before opening at 5am alongside the items they wanted to buy. Camping out next to stuff in the store? Camera phone in hand I went to bed with visions of Mullet haircuts and grown folks in pajamas dancing in my head.
I’m not as perky and enthusiastic at 3am and I imagined I would be at 9pm. That aside, the scene inside was not what I expected.
These were everyday people. Sleepy like me, all trying to get a little more for their Christmas dollars. There were orderly lines, marked with gold balloons down almost every isle and somewhat helpful associates with “event staff” name badges.
And an event this was.
This line in the pet isle was for $219 lap tops. The woman I spoke with wanted to get one for her daughter who left for college with out a computer because they couldn’t afford one. Psp’s were $89.99, and I was told this is a steal. I didn’t know what this was before, but I was in the minority because the line stretched for 2 isles.
I spoke with a lot of people -- what is this line for? When did you get here? How much is that? Most people were buying gifts. And I saw lots of people paying with cash.
So I continued to wonder around when I stumbled on one line away from the rest. It was long and separated and took over almost 4 isles in the toy section. At the front, an army of event staff stood on tall pallets handing out flat screen TV’s.
“How much are these?”
“$249.99, 32 inches.” The event man said proudly. “But you can’t get a ticket, they were all given out a long time ago.”
I wasn’t in the market for a TV, but $250 bucks was unbelievable. I walked down a few more isles, past the end of the line, and there, low and behold, an event staff member had more tickets. He didn’t realize there were supposed to be no more. He wasn’t told it was supposed to be over. I could buy one. I could get on line and walk away with one. I paused for a moment before I crossed over to the dark side down the Barbie dress up isle…
I won’t bore you with the gory details of all that happened next. But know that football at my house on Sundays will now be viewed in HD.
Wall-Mart (1) verses this Big City Girl => Wall-Mart wins – TKO
All who know me know I hate Wal-Mart. They put small businesses out of business and bully their vendors. They deflate profit margins, make competition impossible, and are working towards a global monopoly where they could then price anyway they want.
But the economy is bad, so I’ll get off my soap box and admit if we are going to recover, people have to buy things – anywhere they can. I wanted to see first hand if we are on an up-tick. I also heard they were letting people sleep in the store before opening at 5am alongside the items they wanted to buy. Camping out next to stuff in the store? Camera phone in hand I went to bed with visions of Mullet haircuts and grown folks in pajamas dancing in my head.
I’m not as perky and enthusiastic at 3am and I imagined I would be at 9pm. That aside, the scene inside was not what I expected.
These were everyday people. Sleepy like me, all trying to get a little more for their Christmas dollars. There were orderly lines, marked with gold balloons down almost every isle and somewhat helpful associates with “event staff” name badges.
And an event this was.
This line in the pet isle was for $219 lap tops. The woman I spoke with wanted to get one for her daughter who left for college with out a computer because they couldn’t afford one. Psp’s were $89.99, and I was told this is a steal. I didn’t know what this was before, but I was in the minority because the line stretched for 2 isles.
I spoke with a lot of people -- what is this line for? When did you get here? How much is that? Most people were buying gifts. And I saw lots of people paying with cash.
So I continued to wonder around when I stumbled on one line away from the rest. It was long and separated and took over almost 4 isles in the toy section. At the front, an army of event staff stood on tall pallets handing out flat screen TV’s.
“How much are these?”
“$249.99, 32 inches.” The event man said proudly. “But you can’t get a ticket, they were all given out a long time ago.”
I wasn’t in the market for a TV, but $250 bucks was unbelievable. I walked down a few more isles, past the end of the line, and there, low and behold, an event staff member had more tickets. He didn’t realize there were supposed to be no more. He wasn’t told it was supposed to be over. I could buy one. I could get on line and walk away with one. I paused for a moment before I crossed over to the dark side down the Barbie dress up isle…
I won’t bore you with the gory details of all that happened next. But know that football at my house on Sundays will now be viewed in HD.
Wall-Mart (1) verses this Big City Girl => Wall-Mart wins – TKO
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