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Posts Tagged ‘Requests’

Dear Fashion Gods,

You don’t know me (clearly) but I have a favor to ask you: Please could you make the jacked-up booty shorts trend for women go away?

They are high waisted, which makes them look like mom jeans. (We know that’s not good.)

Yet they are so short they often let a little labia loose. Don’t even get me started on how much air the ass is getting.

Lest you think I’m a prude, it’s not the near nudity that troubles me. It’s the fact that they don’t look good on ANYONE.

You’re not in Hazzard County.

Many beautiful women have been taken down by the most recent iteration of Daisy Dukes. Ariel Winter, I’m looking at you.

No, girl.

While you are at it, please eradicate skinny jeans for men.

Again, this is a trend that favors no body style.

This dude looks like he has childbearing hips thanks to these pants.

Not even Harry Styles is immune.

Yuck.

And when they are paired with a whole aesthetic, well then …

Hipsters or Civil War soldiers? (I can’t take credit for that; it’s been going around.)

If you would be so kind as to address these issues, I would be so thrilled.

In your debt,
Beth

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STOP: If you haven’t read “Sentenced to Church, Part I and Part II,” do that now.

Just over 36 hours later, I was in another church: a Methodist church near my house.

Unlike my mother-in-law’s church where parishioners were on me like sharks to chum, the Methodist folks smiled, nodded and generally left me alone. Only the pastor, sporting an Irish brogue and a green jacket perfect for St. Patrick’s Day, officially greeted me.

The start of the ceremony resembled a town hall meeting. Announcements ranged from the results of the bake sale to what the county’s industrial development authority was planning to do with a parcel of land up the road. I noticed that the dress code has changed since I was a regular churchgoer. My parents would not have been pleased if I wore jeans to church, but now it appears jeans, T-shirts, cut-offs and flip-flops are all just fine to wear to hang out with God.

Apparently, this is appropriate church attire.

During the sermon, which was about what Jesus must have been like as a child, I took a look at the bulletin. On the back of the bulletin, under the heading “Prayer Concerns,” was a list of people asking for special thoughts and why. In addition to the expected, such as “fell and broke hip,” “gall bladder surgery” and “soldier injured in Iraq,” there were a few that made me feel as if I now knew too much. Apparently, Bobbie is “causing family problems” and Paige has “legal problems.” I guess those are the times when you chat with God the most.

Up next: “Welcome, sister”

 

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Dear Facebook Friends:

Happy new year! I appreciate that your posts have been filled with love and light for the holidays.

In just a little over two weeks, though, we will inaugurate a new president. And I’m sure that’s going to bring back all the nasty political posts.

This is how I feel about that:

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Let’s start off on the right foot for 2017 by making Facebook a palatable place again. And by that, I mean I need you to stop writing the following:

You say: “I’m tired of being politically correct.”
I hear: “I want to be able to say the same horrible stuff I’ve always said without someone calling me out.”
The truth: You have freedom of speech, but that does not mean you have freedom from consequences. If you want to say, “That’s so gay,” like you did in the ’80s, I’m going to have to chastise you or delete you. Your choice.

You say: “I like Trump because he speaks his mind.”
I hear: “He is saying the horrible stuff I want to say but I can’t because I have to be politically correct (see above).”
The truth (as I see it): Despite his assertions that he has a very good brain, his mind is full of cobwebs, tumbleweeds and pictures of naked ladies. He’s gross. Sorry, not sorry.

You say: “Trump is surrounding himself with good people.”
I hear: “I don’t really like him, but I voted for him and now I have to double down on that decision. I’m going to be optimistic despite all evidence to the contrary. Gingrich, Giuliani and Christie — the Larry, Darryl and Darryl of the campaign — didn’t worry me enough. Oh look over there — a squirrel!”
The truth: So much for draining the swamp. I can’t even with this.

You say: “I’m so glad Clinton didn’t win. Clinton is corrupt.” Also, “she is a career politician.”
I hear that you don’t like her. I get it. But …
The truth: If you really cared about corruption, you wouldn’t have voted for Trump. He’s got a list of shady maneuvers longer than Santa’s naughty list. As for the other, I’m still pissed that her ambition is seen as a bad thing. Clinton worked her whole life toward one goal and she loses to a dude (of course) who seemingly ran on a whim.

You say: “Suck it up. Get over it. He won. Now you know how I felt when Obama won twice.”
I hear: “Nyah, nyah” and “neener, neener.”
The truth: Obama and Trump are very different people and very different politicians. Both wins reflected a desire for change from the prior administration. I’m better off now than I was eight years ago and so are most people I know. I guess you aren’t. Either that, or you are voting against your own best interests.

You say: “There is a war on Christianity.”
I hear: “I’m pissed that everyone doesn’t believe what I believe.”
The truth: Not everyone is a Christian. We have separation of church and state for a reason.

You say anything nasty regarding the mainstream media.
I hear you attacking my integrity as I have spent my life working in and researching local news.
The truth: Without the mainstream media, we would have no reliable information about what is happening in our communities, our nation, our world. The fourth estate is crucial for an informed citizenry. Also,

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As you should know, I am not a straight-ticket kind of person. I would love to hear your point of view. But I want to hear it in person over coffee. I’m not interested in the talking points or meme you got from some fake news site run by a bored teen in Macedonia. Fair warning: This is the year that I stop being polite and start getting real. (More so than usual.) 

We are all human here. Let’s try to make the world a better place. We can disagree about how we are going to do that, but let’s schedule a play date to discuss.

Love and kisses in 2017!
Beth

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1280px-IHOP_Restaurant_logo.svgDear IHOP:

To borrow from Taylor Swift, “Why you gotta be so mean?

Let me explain.

My family and I recently visited the newly open restaurant in Pooler. We walked in and immediately were struck by the fact that servers outnumbered diners four to one. When I asked for a booth, the hostess gave me such a dirty look that I backed down and meekly took the table.

It was our server’s second day on the job and about to be her last, she said. Why? The owners and corporate reps were in town — hence the reason there were about 24 servers on duty. She said servers weren’t making any money because they had just a couple of tables all day. (This explains why we had to sit at a certain table.)

I watched her carry our four drinks, spilling mine because she didn’t have a tray. “Why don’t you have a tray?,” I asked, remembering my days as a server at Western Sizzlin’. She said there were only a couple of trays in the whole restaurant, and they could only use them for certain purposes. Carrying drinks apparently was not one of them.

Um … what?!?

I’m a chatty sort, so chat we did. She told me all the servers had just been barked at by one of the suits because they had too many cutlery bundles on the tables. They had put four bundles out for a four-person table. That makes sense to me, but it is not OK in IHOPland. Four-tops get two bundles; six-tops get four. No wonder we always have to ask for silverware.

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I happened to spot one of the suits. As I was riled up, I marched over to talk to him. Topics: excessive amount of servers, trays, silverware. This fellow, a vice president according to his business card, could not have been smarmier. He was incredibly dismissive of me and simply said that “corporate” has determined all of the policies so that all IHOPs are the same.

Here’s an excerpt from our conversation:

Me: “But not allowing trays makes it harder for servers to do their jobs.”

Him: “They can use trays.”

Me: “They can’t use trays to carry drinks.”

Him: “No, they can. They just can’t put the trays on the table.”

Me: “But no one is using trays here.”

Him: “Yes, they are.”

Our server: (overhearing conversation but out of the VP’s eye line, meets my eyes and shakes her head, “No.”)

I did not see anyone use a tray the entire time I was there.

Another excerpt:

Me: “It doesn’t seem logical that tables for four people would only have two bundles of silverware.”

Him: “Yes, it does. IHOP corporate wants all IHOPs to look the same when customers walk in.”

Me: “But they could look the same if they had the right amount of silverware on the tables as well. We always have to ask for silverware.”

Him: “The hostess should count the number of people and bring the amount needed.”

Me: “Well, first of all, that makes extra work for people, which doesn’t make sense. Second, our hostess didn’t bring two extra bundles for us.”

Him: “Yes, she did.”

Me: (Looking at him with my patented “Are you effing kidding me?” glare) OK. I give up.

Good job, IHOP, for selecting a person for a vice president role who has such a handle on (inane) IHOP policies yet a complete inability to grasp why policies exist: to help customers have an enjoyable dining experience and want to return.

So we are not going to return. Sorry, IHOP. You need to rethink your rules and leadership.

Came hungry, left unhappy,
Beth

 

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Dear Natural Science Industries:

I’m writing in reference to this product:

0004240949005_500X500May I make a suggestion? Please include a warning on the box that notifies purchasers that the process takes at least a month.

That’s right: one month.

Oh, and that the tumbler sounds like an airplane taking off.

And it must run continuously.

Let’s recap: If you use this item, your house will sound like an airport every moment for at least 28 days.

Potential purchasers need to know this. Please warn them accordingly.

I thank you from the bottom of my bloody ear canal.

Sincerely,
Beth (mother of Gideon, who likes rocks)

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Dear Santa,

I’m running a bit late on this letter and I apologize. Clearly, I need plenty of help this year. I wish I could have given you more notice; I don’t think the elves can whip up the things on this list.

To borrow from Dr. Seuss and his Grinch:

Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store.
Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more!

Here’s what I want for Christmas:

1. Some freakin’ patience. I’ve been with my children almost nonstop for weeks and there’s more to come as school is out. I’m trying to limit the “no more wire hangers” moments, but it’s rough.

2. A good, old-fashioned smiting. I know that’s usually God’s area, but I thought maybe you could help out a little with the hypocrites screaming that Phil Robertson‘s Freedom of Speech was violated. A&E isn’t the government, Freedom of Speech does not equal Freedom from Consequences, and weren’t these the same people calling the Dixie Chicks traitors?

3. Awareness of others for certain people. They clamor for attention daily (especially on Facebook) but cannot be bothered to remember other people’s birthdays or other important events.

4. Relief from some of the holiday trappings. Call me Scrooge, but I despise the Elf on the Shelf, “The Nutcracker,” and Christmas cards that start arriving right after Thanksgiving. (I hate them because that means the senders have their shit together. I don’t, especially when it come to cards. I’m thinking New Year’s cards sound good. In 2015.)

5. An end to the ridiculous “Merry Christmas” flap. Look, some people are sensitive to the fact that many people don’t celebrate Christmas. It’s not an attack against Christianity to say “Happy Holidays.” Is there NOTHING else to worry about? Oh wait … see No. 2.

6. The chance for Jack Kingston to live within a poor person’s means for a week. Maybe then he will understand that we are not all born equal. Low-income families certainly don’t choose to be low income. To suggest that children sweep floors to earn their subsidized lunches is beyond crass. He’s a real-life Mr. Potter!

7. Blake Shelton.

8. A silencer for anyone who wants to talk about Crossfit. It works. It’s great. Now shut up. It’s like this:

religion-is-like-a-penis

9. Some cold weather. It doesn’t feel like Christmas when it is 77. Does Mrs. Claus need to make another appeal to the Miser Brothers? (My tropical husband disagrees, but whatever.)

10. A return to robustness for the aforementioned tropical husband. He’s been in bed with a fever since Friday. It means I don’t have to worry about No. 8, but that’s sad for him.

Oh yeah, and peace on earth and goodwill to men (which I’d like to include marriage equality and an end to racism and classism, but maybe that’s just me). Also, an end to poverty.

You may not be able to deliver. If not, I understand. It’s short notice, plus it’s a tall order. I know. And we regular humans should really be doing a better job of walking the walk of loving and understanding our neighbors. (Uh oh. Didn’t I just ask for a smiting? All right. I’ll take the coal.)

Thanks anyway. See you tomorrow night!

Still a believer,
Beth

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Brain Drain? Yes.

Dear Brain:

Listen, you’ve got to stop. This middle-of-the-night cry for attention is getting old.

What’s that? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Let me remind you:

  1. I don’t want to think about my ever-expanding to-do list at 2 a.m.
  2. I won’t tell off that person I can’t stand. You and I both know it, so quit thinking of clever things for me to say.
  3. Stop interrupting my dreams of Johnny Depp to remind me that I need to pay for my children’s after-school care. That’s just wrong.
  4. I ate plenty of food at dinner. You and my stomach don’t need to invent hunger.
  5. Just decide whether I’m hot or cold and stick with it.
  6. I don’t need you to overwhelm me with guilt about abandoning this blog for so long. We both know why, so leave it alone.
  7. Yes, I set my phone alarm.
  8. Yes, I locked the front door. Shut up! I don’t even use the front door.
  9. No, you don’t hear a kid crying.
  10. No, that’s not an odd scratching sound outside.

Please, I’m begging you: Go to sleep and stay there!

Thanks,
Beth

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