tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58923773545565317142024-03-15T18:10:35.883-07:00Things I Want to Punch in the FaceJennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.comBlogger433125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-54829921641599830092016-04-17T17:25:00.002-07:002016-04-17T17:34:27.200-07:00"Buy Nothing" pleas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5892377354556531714" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5892377354556531714" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0qAuaLELRGg/VxQq8w0mhEI/AAAAAAAACzo/b5_myYrZhDcQ4Z0R3RvdXYWK8_X7Bov8gCLcB/s1600/buynothing.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="60" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0qAuaLELRGg/VxQq8w0mhEI/AAAAAAAACzo/b5_myYrZhDcQ4Z0R3RvdXYWK8_X7Bov8gCLcB/s400/buynothing.tiff" width="400" /></a></div>
I love free stuff. I brake for broken chairs abandoned on corners. I am first in line for a clothing swap. I enter every online sweepstakes that crosses my path.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to the <a href="https://buynothingproject.org/">Buy Nothing Project</a>. I loved this movement committed to gifting unwanted items within your community. I'm not the only one keen on this concept—there are more than 280,000 members in 18 countries participating on 1,300 Facebook groups.<br />
<br />
I'm in one of those groups. Last summer, when I moved in with my boyfriend, my couch simply had no place in our home. I had special ordered that sofa from Dania, picking out a custom nubby tweed upholstery. I loved that thing but it didn't fit in the house—literally—so while lounging on it on the porch, I posted it on my local Buy Nothing page and got rid of it in under five minutes.<br />
<br />
I gave it to the first person who responded.<br />
<br />
Come to find out, it's not always that easy.<br />
<br />
Buy Nothing giveaways are constantly being posted, catching my eye throughout the day. I'm not usually the first one to respond, so I think I'm out of the running. But hold the phone.<br />
<br />
It's not always first-come, first-regifted.<br />
<br />
The comment thread is chockablock with pleas and pitches. Sob stories, requests worthy of Mother Teresa, personal connections that can only mean that the Keurig/framed poster/lawn gnome/size 8 Mossimo dress and its suitor belong together.<br />
<br />
When faced with "I'll use your grandmother's jewelry to make new pieces
for a battered women's shelter" or "This will remind me every day of my
dead cat" or "We lost all our plants in a fire," <br />
how's a greedy girl to compete? <br />
<br />
I don't. I throw in the
towel, look at my many belongings, and try to remember that <a href="http://tidyingup.com/">Marie Kondo</a> stuff about "sparking joy."<br />
<br />
Please consider.<br />
<br />Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-13390554757766626012015-09-15T01:00:00.000-07:002015-09-15T01:00:04.556-07:00Books on sale now!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FfnV2Fx_vxg/Vfdq6GMR2sI/AAAAAAAACxY/kaHE4liZiDg/s1600/punch_inst_BList.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FfnV2Fx_vxg/Vfdq6GMR2sI/AAAAAAAACxY/kaHE4liZiDg/s320/punch_inst_BList.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Get yours today from your favorite indie bookseller or <a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781938849565">online retailer</a>! At $11.95, it makes <i>the</i> perfect gift for anyone. It's a conversation starter and will make even the most earnest, humorless person laugh. </span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-86342023539386978252015-07-26T21:18:00.000-07:002015-07-27T18:36:38.309-07:00Get ready for another round of Punch Parties!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G4F7bopgzek/VbWwhxxxjkI/AAAAAAAACww/6mK7p1qsG8c/s1600/photo%255B2%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G4F7bopgzek/VbWwhxxxjkI/AAAAAAAACww/6mK7p1qsG8c/s200/photo%255B2%255D.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">The revised edition of <a href="http://www.prospectparkbooks.com/portfolio-item/things-i-want-to-punch-in-the-face-revised-edition/"><i>Things I Want to Punch in the Face</i></a> is hitting stores soon and so too will I, hosting punch parties and readings. Here’s where you can find me (stay tuned, as I'll be adding more dates as they are booked):<b><br /></b></span><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b><strong>September 21, 7pm</strong> | </b><a data-mce-href="http://www.villagebooks.com/" href="http://www.villagebooks.com/">Village Books</a><br />Bellingham, WA<b><br /></b>I'm
honored to be part of the rich tradition of author events at this
storied Fairhaven bookstore. Bellinghamsters are invited to bring their
own punches to share!<b><br /><br />September 24, 7–8:30pm</b> | <a href="http://www.qabookco.com/">Queen Anne Book Company</a><br />
Seattle, WA<br />
Join me for what is sure to be an evening of hilarity! Bring your own “punches” to share!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b><br />October 5, 7–8pm</b> | <a href="http://www.parkroadbooks.com/">Park Road Books</a><br />
Charlotte, NC<br />
I’m taking the show on the road and I can’t wait to visit Charlotte’s favorite bookstore for a lively evening of PITF readings!</span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-40655920854436337512015-07-13T17:21:00.001-07:002015-07-13T17:22:46.317-07:00Revised edition now available for preorder!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mpRVuUHWnuI/VaRStxgX35I/AAAAAAAACwM/UCryxmaEj-g/s1600/PITF%2Badvances.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mpRVuUHWnuI/VaRStxgX35I/AAAAAAAACwM/UCryxmaEj-g/s200/PITF%2Badvances.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Ancient grains, mixologists, and yoga pants, oh my! All your current peeves have been rounded up in this revised edition of <i>Things I Want to Punch in the Face</i>. I've updated classic entries, cut dated material, and added a slew of the most annoying people, places and things in the zeitgeist today. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Pre-order up this revised edition today and chuckle as lumbersexuals and
their beard oil finally get what's coming to them! <br /><br />Order from
your favorite indie bookstore via Indiebound <a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781938849565">here</a>.</span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-50204113193933224212015-03-25T03:30:00.000-07:002015-03-25T03:30:00.888-07:00Polar bear plunges<style>
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<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aH4JGvMGWyU/VQ-eduumxfI/AAAAAAAACvg/EFbOG3tw_og/s1600/polarbear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aH4JGvMGWyU/VQ-eduumxfI/AAAAAAAACvg/EFbOG3tw_og/s1600/polarbear.jpg" height="154" width="200" /></a></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I
love the water. I hate the cold. But in the Rochambeau of my preferences, cold
trumps water by a nautical mile because I can’t wrap my mind around polar bear
clubs, those collections of brave souls who drop trou and run into the water to
celebrate New Year’s Day or some such bullshit holiday. Dudes, that’s what
drinking champagne and bungling the lyrics to “Auld Lang Syne” is for.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I
can’t bring myself to jump in and out of a plunge pool after a sauna or hot
tub. I can only walk into an alpine lake up to my ankles, no matter how sweaty
the hike that preceded it. And it takes me a long while to ease into the ocean,
even if it’s Florida in August. A polar bear swim isn’t on this girl’s bucket
list.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">If
the folly of diving into icy waters isn’t enough—isn’t the <i>Titanic</i> survival rate cautionary tale enough?—there are the naked
polar bear plunges, often for men who haven't seen this side of sixty for many, many years. I don’t want to see that when you’re warm and erect. I
certainly don’t want to see your twigs and berries shriveled or hiding between
your legs like the latest winner of <i>RuPaul’s
Drag Race</i>. That’s a cold-blooded chiller.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I
can do things that are good for my health that don’t require the bracing winter
waters of a northern lake, sea, or ocean, such as nutritional supplements,
Pilates, kale salad, cardio. The only way I want to experience an icy liquid is
in a rocks glass. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">(photo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IosFQHxyWZI)<br /><b> </b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-47911397884996792032015-03-24T03:30:00.000-07:002015-03-24T09:56:45.325-07:00Evites<style>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V6PgpsvA5ZQ/VQ-Wr5vW9-I/AAAAAAAACvQ/2AhWmN6D9Zc/s1600/evite-608x319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V6PgpsvA5ZQ/VQ-Wr5vW9-I/AAAAAAAACvQ/2AhWmN6D9Zc/s1600/evite-608x319.jpg" height="104" width="200" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m
going to make a bold statement: Evites are the downfall of manners and
etiquette.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Evite
burst onto the scene in 1998 and quickly became part of the fabric of our
lives, hooking us with its ease of use and transparency.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And
once the site reeled us in with cutesy-wootesy birthday and cocktail party
templates, we got lazy.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Too lazy to send proper
invites. </span></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
just heard today about an evite that was sent out for a small memorial service
for a classy, elegant woman. She deserved better. She deserved hand-written
invitations on 100-pound cardstock. If you’re having a housewarming party for
everyone you know, pick a festive design and evite the shit out of your
shindig. If you are having an intimate get-together to mark a significant
event, care enough to send the very best. Get thee to a Hallmark, y’all.</span></div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Too lazy to explore other
options for gorgeous, functional online invitation tools that aren’t littered
with ads and a slow user interface</span></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">. I only find out about sites like <a href="https://www.paperlesspost.com/cards/group/celebrationsInvitations?source=Google&campaign=NB-Search-Alpha&keyword=online%20invitation%20sites&placement=&medium=SEM&adid=Invitations&gclid=CjwKEAjw0LmoBRDHuo7UkaKXhn8SJADmDTG0W57lwq14IDp17Mz9m1BXcUmhYHZJWEujz3RPqSN0dhoCWZzw_wcB">Paperless
Posts</a> when friends more adventurous than me invite me to something.</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Too lazy to RSVP properly
or at all.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Evite
notifies guests on the invite list by sending e-mails but it doesn’t include
the event details. So people often don’t even bother to click through to the
actual information, let alone reply. And if they do reply, they get a chance to
sit on the fence with a “Maybe.” In my day, you either responded with a “Yes”
or “No,” not a “I’ll try to come but I might be on a deadline.” I call bullshit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And
yet, I can’t bring myself to just say “No.” The allure of being able to peruse
a guest list is irresistible. Is my frenemy going to be there? Is my former
lover planning on coming with a +1? Are my favorite people opting out, leaving
me to make stilted chitchat with that horribly dull man who never ever asks me
a question about myself? Is that fashion plate coming? If so, that means I have
to step up my sartorial game for the night. Evite allows us to make
quasi-informed decisions regarding attendance without peppering the host with
inappropriate questions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So
am I going to finally kick evites to the curb? “Maybe.” But I’m also indulging
my love of stationery and loading up on some letterpressed invitations for my
next soirée. </span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-51556488534904654312015-03-23T04:30:00.000-07:002015-03-23T10:25:44.516-07:00PayPal<style>
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</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VoZ7smx67rI/VQ-M5ahvqpI/AAAAAAAACvA/suIs-WcpSAI/s1600/paypal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VoZ7smx67rI/VQ-M5ahvqpI/AAAAAAAACvA/suIs-WcpSAI/s1600/paypal.jpg" height="77" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If
it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That
adage works for things like your favorite lasagna recipe, but does it really
work for an online transactional site like PayPal? I want their engineering
team to be constantly upgrading security measures and improving their user
interface so they never are in a position to fix anything.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
will admit that PayPal did finally—after decades of a crappy site that looked
like something designed for $500 by a self-taught web designer—retool the site.
So there’s that.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">However.</span><span style="background: yellow; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-highlight: yellow;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As
a seller, it’s still a pain in the ass to navigate your way to saved buy buttons
or to create new buttons for products or services. For providing this service,
PayPal takes 3 percent for every online payment. I saw <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Office Space</i>; those pennies add up every time PayPal transfers money
from someone’s bank to yours.</span><span style="background: yellow; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-highlight: yellow;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But
the real reason to punch PayPal in the face is, as a buyer, I could be
providing detailed financial information to a hacker in a remote North Korean
village. Like He-Man, PayPal has the power. And they often wield it
indiscriminately, locking accounts for no reason and providing terrible to
nonexistent customer service.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Do
I really want to trust my checking account or credit card info to the likes of
PayPal? No, but the real burn is that I have no choice in the matter. PayPal is
the only game in cybertown and I have to PayPal to play.</span>
</span></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-40951478447339423962015-03-22T04:00:00.000-07:002015-03-22T04:00:04.142-07:00Nail art
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wpido9Pq70c/VQ2cH-N79VI/AAAAAAAACus/xzTw_vZBTZg/s1600/Nail-Art-Ideas-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wpido9Pq70c/VQ2cH-N79VI/AAAAAAAACus/xzTw_vZBTZg/s1600/Nail-Art-Ideas-1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve
slowly but surely turned into a fuddy duddy, a finger wagger of the first
degree. I don’t like exposed bra straps and still believe in slips. I think
hair colors not found in nature are stupid (I’m looking at you, Nicole Richie
and Kelly Osbourne). And I find nail art to be like nails on my beauty
chalkboard.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I prefer
short nails in one color, often Black Onyx or Russian Navy. I don’t like talons
that have been whittled down to the point where they could pick a lock. And I
certainly don’t like nails with crazy designs and different colors.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My
distain stems from several reasons. One, fingernail designs and colors can skew
trashy, like Hello Kitty just got hired at the Bunny Ranch or Tara Reid, well,
just Tara Reid.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And
I know nail art is anything but cheap, unless you’re using the press-on
variety. I rarely paint my nails because it chips so fast. Getting your
favorite team’s logo or a complicated basketweave pattern on your fingertips
just seems like an expensive venture for such as short lifespan. I’d rather put
that money in my pocket, not on my hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And
if you’re doing it at home, it invariably looks sloppy unless you’re
ambidextrous and detail-oriented. You start out with the best of intentions and
bottles of pink, green, and yellow polish and wind up looking like a crazy
colorblind person wearing a botched craft project.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And
I finally put my finger on it: the biggest reason that I turn away from these
manic-cures is that they pull focus. I want people to look at me, not my
clothes, accessories, and beauty choices. I’m not a vehicle for miniature
portraits, landscapes, and abstracts; I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">am</i>
the work of art. My manicure doesn’t make me interesting; it just makes me
polished.</span></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-65340572236841822362015-03-21T04:30:00.000-07:002015-03-21T08:37:14.689-07:00Cold brew coffee<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--tJg86Cg5ao/VQu4G-zLJsI/AAAAAAAACuU/w7y5rXb_oQY/s1600/cold%2Bbrew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--tJg86Cg5ao/VQu4G-zLJsI/AAAAAAAACuU/w7y5rXb_oQY/s1600/cold%2Bbrew.jpg" height="320" width="144" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Just
when I thought coffee culture couldn’t get any more precious, cold brew
coffee shows up to the delight of <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2009/05/coffee-snobs.html">coffee
snobs</a> and the dismay of pretty much everyone else. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
hot drink equivalent of small-batch spirits, cold-brewed (or pressed) coffee is produced by
steeping coffee grounds in chilled or room temperature water for 12-plus hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
Hipsters far and wide are queuing up for this new brew, which makes the coffee
less bitter (while jacking up my own bitterness) because the coffee beans never
make contact with actual hot water. This coffee concentrate can then be heated
up and added to water or milk for a supposedly transcendental coffee
experience. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cold
brew coffee has been popping up around town, with some bars even offering the
coffee on tap or in growlers. This translates into <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2015/02/lumbersexuals.html">lumbersexuals</a> everywhere coming
in their artfully distressed jeans.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
hate to throw cold water on this, but if you need a cuppa joe to get your rocks
off, you might want to rethink things. A sweet cup of coffee is a wondrous
thing, certainly, but it will never beat out a sweet piece of ass. Sip on that.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(photo:
coldbrew.com)</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-23462833627536498332015-03-20T05:00:00.000-07:002015-03-23T10:26:09.125-07:00#blessed<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C0L-G8PvKSs/VQpkX694gbI/AAAAAAAACuA/sdptD1OE4Wo/s1600/blessed-as-650x280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C0L-G8PvKSs/VQpkX694gbI/AAAAAAAACuA/sdptD1OE4Wo/s1600/blessed-as-650x280.jpg" height="137" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, duh.</span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Way to state the obvious, Einstein. Of course
we’re blessed. We live in a privileged society with fluoride in our tap water,
computers and flat-screens in every home, organic chickens in every pot, access
to health care, and Beyonce. We shop at Goodwill because it’s <i>cool</i>. </span>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Adding a hashtag that telegraphs your
gratitude and piety wastes 8 characters and clues in your tweeple that you are
an unoriginal windbag who’s humblebragging your sweet-ass anointed life (Gwyneth) or
trying to cover up the fact that you’re just happy to be here (Lindsay). Either
way, it sounds insincere.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Put the #blessed to rest. Swap it out with
something that conveys what you’re <i>actually</i>
thinking. Instagramming your engagement ring? #couldabeenbigger Tweeting about
the French toast your kids surprised you with? #chokingdowngluten Commenting on
an unflattering throwback Thursday photo that a childhood friend posted and
tagged you in? #paybackisabitch</span>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />I guarantee that you’ll get retweeted. #amen<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(photo: puttingonthenew.com)</span><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-40388322390497380882015-03-19T06:00:00.000-07:002015-03-19T15:03:00.038-07:00Buzzfeed quizzes<style>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kCPLC-ni0ws/VQkW2tvQugI/AAAAAAAACts/1ahyu1Lg7mI/s1600/Buzzfeed%2Bquizzes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kCPLC-ni0ws/VQkW2tvQugI/AAAAAAAACts/1ahyu1Lg7mI/s1600/Buzzfeed%2Bquizzes.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I thought I was so smart, managing my social
network feeds. I opted out of seeing a certain frenemy’s posts (The “Gwyneth
Paltrow of Seattle,” you’d hide her updates, too). I turned off all
notifications for Oregon Trail, Farmville and every other bullshit Facebook game.
I avoid the various name generator tools. I don’t have a burning need to
know how John Travolta would mangle my name.<br /><br />But I can’t seem to shake the quizzes, oh the
horror, the quizzes. They started out benignly enough. I took a two-minute
break to find out if a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BuzzFeedQuiz">Buzzfeed
Quiz</a> could deduce, based on my language and pronunciation preferences, which
part of the country I’m from (spot on). I was even curious to find out which
typeface I was (a super twee handwriting font that
nobody’s handwriting actually resembles). <br /><br />But then, the inanity
mounted. The navel gazing went to a microscopic level. Which Breakfast Club
character/breed of dog/color/Dr. Who are you? Which Hogwarts house do you
belong in? Which Disney cat should be your pet? Are you more Lorelei or Rory
Gilmore? Is this sort of self-reflection and self-awareness helpful or
necessary? What kind of insight can be gleaned from finding out <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/andrewpena/which-celebrity-man-bun-are-you?utm_term=4ldqphq&bffb=#.fhY9y2rJm">which
celebrity man bun I am</a>? <br /><br />Admit it, you hate yourself just a TINY bit
for taking the bait and taking the quiz (I’m the Leonardo DiCaprio man bun, by
the way). That’s two minutes of your life that you can’t get back. It may not
sound like much but that shit adds up. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six
hundred minutes, how do you measure, measure a year? The creators of <i>Rent</i> weren’t envisioning 262,800 quizzes
you’ll forget about as soon as you answer question 10. You could have read a great
article, left a loved one a voicemail or told someone off in the library
parking lot, worked on a crossword, gone number two. Better alternatives to
these quizzes lurk everywhere, even in the john. <br /><br />(photo: </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Andrew Peña/Buzzfeed.com)</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-13131411614235635472015-03-18T07:00:00.000-07:002015-03-18T10:52:08.044-07:00Cosplay<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Rn8r81Abyj4/VQe-xLwohwI/AAAAAAAACtY/0A6-v1u7YXY/s1600/cosplay%2Bslave%2Bleia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Rn8r81Abyj4/VQe-xLwohwI/AAAAAAAACtY/0A6-v1u7YXY/s1600/cosplay%2Bslave%2Bleia.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My name is Jennifer Worick and I am a geek. A
Coke-bottled, bookworm, comic book-reading, <a href="http://www.nerdist.com/">Nerdist</a>-loving geek. But apparently, I’m not a <i>cool</i>
one.<br /><br />I have never been to <a href="http://www.comic-con.org/">Comic-Con</a>. And I don’t have a closet filled
with <i>Logan’s Run,</i> Xena, Zira, Bellatrix
Lestrange, or Jem and the Holograms costumes. I’m just a run-of-the-mill geek
who, sad to say, doesn’t own any wigs.<br /><br />And I’m okay with that.
<br /><br />See, I’m also a grown-ass person. Everyday
isn’t an opportunity to recreate Halloween and indulge in a flamboyant case of
arrested development. I get it, Stormtrooper, I get it. You were a kid with
<i>Star Wars </i>sheets who doesn’t currently have a girlfriend and wants to take out
your agro-bro feelings under the guise of white plastic while trolling for a
slave Leia who's DTF. And sexy Uhura with your skirt up to there, I know you had braces
and crippling shyness as a teen so now you’re making up for lost time and
looking for a Mr. Spock who will appreciate both your human and Vulcan sides. I bet you’d even settle for that
Klingon over there, even though that goes against Starfleet regulations.<br /><br />Take the lead from kids, who save the serious costuming for Halloween. Dressing
up for every comic book, pinball, sci-fi, supermachiner, manga, Magic the Gathering, videogame, Trekkie
conference co-opts what should be ONE special day and frankly, throws you into
the same sorry bunch as Steampunkers and Ren Faire enthusiasts. You just have more
interesting eyewear. <br /><br />So go away. Go to a galaxy far, far away. Wrap
your knitted scarf around your neck and step into your TARDIS. Here's' hoping you run into some
Daleks who are looking to exterminate a Time Lord. <br /><br />(photo: ogeeku.com) </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-65165961202611819102015-03-17T02:30:00.000-07:002015-03-17T22:27:58.282-07:00Food restrictions<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cnlm2e3EN78" width="420"></iframe></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Going out to eat with friends or family is
one of life’s greatest pleasures. At least it should be. But it turns into an
exercise in frustration and mortification when that loved one has food
restrictions. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Being gluten-free is child’s play in the face
of folks who are trying to work a menu when they are avoiding dairy, nightshades,
high-fructose corn syrup or sugar in <i>any</i> form, prefer their water filtered, and
are currently avoiding eight major foods as part of an elimination diet.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is when I’d like to eliminate them. Or
disappear into the floor of the restaurant, after giving the server a
sympathetic look and a massive tip.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We all thought Meg Ryan in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When Harry Met Sally</i> was a
high-maintenance diner. While she might be the patron saint of these picky
eaters, her requests for salad dressing or ice cream on the side seem downright
quaint. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s great that as a society we’ve evolved to
the point that we can cut out major food groups and pantry staples from our
diet. It’s a modern <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2015/02/first-world-problems.html">first-world problem</a>. The Irish weren’t in a position to cut
out starches or any other foodstuff when the famine hit the Emerald Isle, for
feck’s sake. And I bet a starving child in Burundi would be more than happy to
down that lobster mac and cheese you just poo pooed, dairy, gluten and
shellfish sensitivities be damned. <br />
<br />
If you don’t want to eat something, navigate toward a more palatable dish on the menu
or stay home and roast an organic chicken. Don’t ask the chef to change a dish
he or she spent considerable time perfecting. And don’t broadcast your laundry
list of food issues to the table. This type of extreme self care just comes off
as an attempt to pull focus from what really matters—that lobster mac and
cheese, of course. I’m packing Prilosec.</span></span></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-32788591962285823482015-03-16T07:50:00.000-07:002015-03-16T10:20:26.443-07:00"Curators"<style>
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</span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-II4bYdkkF3E/VQZFe8Z9MtI/AAAAAAAACtE/k7_CqqyC5Ck/s1600/curator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-II4bYdkkF3E/VQZFe8Z9MtI/AAAAAAAACtE/k7_CqqyC5Ck/s1600/curator.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></span></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">When
strolling the galleries of museums both grand and intimate, I am always
grateful for the discerning eye and expertise of curators even if I don’t
always fancy the art itself. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In college, I
interned at a terrific museum in Washington, DC devoted to art by women. I went
on behind-the-scenes tours of other museums ranging from the National Gallery
to the Corcoran, and sat down with curators for brown bag lunches to learn
about what they do. I even helped take a </span><a href="http://www.theartstory.org/artist-frankenthaler-helen.htm"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Frankenthaler</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> off the wall. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">Respect,
y’all. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But sadly the
ranks of actual curators have been breached and sullied. Just like anyone can
start a blog, print up 100 Moo cards, and call themselves a professional
writer, so too can some yambag create a list of cured meats for a regional magazine or
a collection of sunglasses or </span><a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2015/02/yoga-pants.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">yoga pants</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> for </span><a href="http://piperlime.gap.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Piperlime</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">So you eat a
lot of sausage and like to shop. Do you have a PhD in anything remotely
relevant? Is there any standard that makes you a bona fide expert in anything
other than being obnoxious? And there’s the trend to call employees “content
curators.” Call me crazy but in my day, that was an editor. So go ahead and
offer your top ten list or opinion freely and often, but don’t call yourself a
curator. The only thing you’re qualified to select and collect is my ire. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(Photo: </span><a href="http://ny.racked.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://ny.racked.com</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">)</span></span></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-18369409593631703342015-03-15T15:38:00.001-07:002015-03-16T21:51:58.610-07:00Bay shrimp<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ozTLeNq_Rc/VQYJaAmNyAI/AAAAAAAACs0/kz0qHv3fVAg/s1600/sp10-oregon-bay-shrimp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ozTLeNq_Rc/VQYJaAmNyAI/AAAAAAAACs0/kz0qHv3fVAg/s1600/sp10-oregon-bay-shrimp.jpg" height="142" width="200" /></a>I love shrimp, I do.
So the description of “bay shrimp,” found on menus at crusty country clubs everywhere,
sounds delightful to me, like the shrimp had been surfing some tasty waves off
the Baja Peninsula before it was netted. <br /><br />So, so off base.<br /><br />Rather, bay shrimp are teeny-tiny versions of a grown-ass shrimp. These embryos
look like they should have had more time in the water to gestate and become
fully cooked. As they are, they look like they should be sent off for stem cell
research instead of dressed with ranch dressing or made into seafood salad.<br /><br />In lieu of a scoop of Bay shrimp, I’ll take two to three grilled prawns, thank
you very much. Drop that pink larvae on a decomposing body so it can get to
work or ship it off to some fisherman so it can be used as bait for something
more worthwhile.<br /><br />(Photo: seattlefishcompany.com)</span><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </span><style>
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Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-5852519211767092882015-03-12T00:16:00.002-07:002015-03-15T21:47:57.807-07:00Mixologists<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qXCv1BufdiA/VQE8YJewLfI/AAAAAAAACsg/d-fc2a6VZM8/s1600/Mixologist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qXCv1BufdiA/VQE8YJewLfI/AAAAAAAACsg/d-fc2a6VZM8/s1600/Mixologist.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
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</style><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I recently
went to a new watering hole, all warm low-lighting and fancy bar menu designed by
someone with interesting eyewear and a penchant for <a href="https://www.myfonts.com/fonts/urw/copperplate/">Copperplate</a>. The drinks, with the clever names you’d
expect from a hipster bar that requires a secret handshake to enter, were made
out of exotic ingredients. My pal and I were parched so we just ordered up two
Tanqueray & tonics.<br /><br />No Tanqueray.
<br /><br />No problem. I
can roll with a locally distilled and
hand-crafted gin. <br /><br />Minutes
ticked by. The thirst mounted.
<br /><br />Finally, our server appeared with a pair of ginger-colored cocktails gleaming in their old-fashioned
glasses. “Good news! We have this amazing tonic; it’s made from Peruvian tree
bark.”<br /><br />My face
became the visual version of a needle scratching a record. Peruvian tree bark
in my gin & tonic. That explained the tea-stained color.
<br /><br />Again, I’d
like to think I’m open minded. But hell if it didn’t taste vaguely like
cinnamon-laced apple. And it was as flat as Keira Knightley’s chest.<br /><br />Needless to say, I sent that drink back to South America and gave my best
stinkeye to the bartender. Excuse me, <i>mixologist</i>.<br /><br />Hand-crafted
bitters infused with rare herbs. Schnapps produced in a tiny Alpine hamlet only
during avalanche season. Drink names that combine the mixologist’s last
vacation destination with a weather phenomenon or natural disaster. No, I do
not want a Cabo San Tsunami<b>,</b> Amsterdammit!<b> </b>What’s next? Vodka made from Brussels
sprouts?
<br /><br />Mixologists
are easy to spot. Their plumage comes in the form of a natty vest and they all
vaguely resemble Joseph Gordon-Levitt. They have an extensive knowledge of Absinthe
and the ruined men who loved her, are judgmental of anyone else’s
cocktail-crafting abilities, and rejoice in taking half an hour to make a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fizz_%28cocktail%29">Ramos gin fizz</a> (which, admittedly, is delicious).<br /><br />While they follow
spirits trends, they pride themselves on being an exhaustive repository on all
things boozy. If you want the backstory on that 15-year-old Calvados, the
mixologist is your man. But if you want a drink without a side of “I
know better; let me make you a new and improved cocktail,” head to your closest
dive bar. You can get pissed drunk instead of pissed off.
<br /><br />(photo:
startribune.com)
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-23232974069810991692015-03-06T12:00:00.001-08:002015-03-06T13:56:38.247-08:00Ancient grains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SA02YY8hryM/VPoGoXwLsyI/AAAAAAAACsI/i-LGNVrlz3E/s1600/QuinoaBarsImage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SA02YY8hryM/VPoGoXwLsyI/AAAAAAAACsI/i-LGNVrlz3E/s1600/QuinoaBarsImage.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<div>
Question: What is Amaranth?</div>
<ol>
<li>A city in the Holy Land where Jesus reputedly lost his sandals</li>
<li>A flowering bulb similar to Amaryllis</li>
<li>The latest <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.ca/2009/04/celebrity-baby-names.html">celebrity baby name</a></li>
<li>An gluten-free ancient grain</li>
</ol>
You probably have a frenemy who sings the praise of a gluten-free lifestyle when you’re tucking into Eggs Benny at brunch, so you know the answer is 4. You also know that ancient grains and their grassy-eyed acolytes need to be ground into a fine flour. <br />
<br />
Along with spelt, ancient grains like quinoa and teff sound more like onomatopoeia describing a punch to the gut than a digestible alternative to wheat. And Quaker Oats had to go and get on the picky foodie bandwagon. They just rolled out quinoa granola bars. What’s next? Millet Pop Tarts? Kamut Krunch cereal?<br />
<br />
Ancient grain devotees think there’s some magical quality associated with something that’s old, that rated a mention in the Bible. Newsflash: that prophet in Ezekiel eating millet? It didn’t give him the key to eternal life. Back in the BC days, they suffered a high infant mortality rate, plagues, short lifespan, and a host of problems that were not going to be cured by a bowl of wheat berry porridge. Now, if these foods had antibiotic-infused kernels that would keep my UTIs in check or heal a wound, I'd be the first in line to cook up this stuff for consumption or a poultice. <br />
<br />
Ancient grains may be healthy but they’re not the way to the promised land. That’s what kale is for.Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-12650149555126447842015-03-01T16:50:00.001-08:002015-03-01T21:26:37.808-08:00TED Talks<style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0K5rwOZU0B8/VPOzNsYGK8I/AAAAAAAACrA/up-JCk8MVJc/s1600/ted2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0K5rwOZU0B8/VPOzNsYGK8I/AAAAAAAACrA/up-JCk8MVJc/s1600/ted2.jpg" height="136" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Have you
noticed something spreading?<br /><br />Nope, it’s
not the measles.<br /><br />It’s the
proliferation of TED Talks here, there, and everywhere. As well as that
sentence, snuggled between the <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2009/05/bizspeak.html">bizspeak</a>
and the chitchat: “Did you see that <i>amazing</i> TED Talk?”<br /><br />When the TED conference
series was launched in 1990, I loved the idea of talks on technology,
entertainment and design, but like <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2009/06/new-yorker-cartoons.html"><i>New
Yorker</i> cartoons</a>, I didn’t know if they were for me. They were heady and
mind-blowing, and catnip to the NPR totebag-carrying, interesting eyewear-wearing
crowd. These video vitamins were good for me but sometimes hard to swallow.<br /><br />Then <a href="https://www.ted.com/about/programs-initiatives/tedx-program">TEDx</a>
happened. Community-organized talks sprouted up everywhere and I couldn’t keep up. I can barely stay abreast of <i>This American Life</i> episodes,
WTF podcasts, and all the shit queued up on my DVR, what with my <i>job</i> and all. How am I going to find time
to watch 10- to 20-minute videos on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FMBSblpcrc">how to use a paper towel</a>
and bands that make their <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zH4m5U78JYk">instruments
out of vegetables</a>?<br /><br />Does every
cul de sac have ideas worth spreading, or more importantly, ideas worth my time?
I’m thinking no.<br /><br />For every <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability?language=en">Brené
Brown talk</a> that truly changes your thinking, there’s a talk about the
importance of ticking off your bucket list items. Nice idea, but I can listen
to a Tim McGraw song for that, and that only takes 4:27 of my life, allowing me
to step away from my laptop and toward <i>actual</i>
bucket list activities. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-25138264041032018292015-02-24T21:34:00.002-08:002015-02-25T08:47:01.153-08:00Obligatory standing ovations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x2ARoc5fJPM/VO1erHXCwEI/AAAAAAAACqw/tr6bPBtvxtQ/s1600/standing-ovation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x2ARoc5fJPM/VO1erHXCwEI/AAAAAAAACqw/tr6bPBtvxtQ/s1600/standing-ovation.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>Scene: A local theater troupe is gamely
putting on a show, despite a terrible script, missed cues, unrecoverable gaffes,
wooden Keanu-worthy acting, fill in the blank. The curtain falls and the
players on stage breathe a collective sigh of relief. They can flee to the
darkness of the wings.</i><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /><br />And then…<br /><br />The curtain rises for a final bow. The
actors look out into the audience, who is clapping enthusiastically and,
miraculously, rising out of their seats.<br /><br />The actors wonder to themselves, “What the fuck is happening?”<br /><br />And…scene.</i><br /><br />Nope, these
actors aren’t in an artsy-fartsy <i>Twilight
Zone</i>. They are simply living in the era of the obligatory standing ovation.<br /><br />Standing Os
are given out these days as easily as Kanye West’s opinion. They are the adult
version of the “everybody gets a trophy” culture, even if they metaphorically suck
at soccer and kick a goal into their own net.<br /><br />Regardless of
whether it’s a concert by an ancient band on their fifth farewell tour, a hack
comic with hackneyed bits, or a homegrown production at the avant-garde or old
guard theater company in town, audiences can’t wait to jump up and simper all
over the performers—even if the show was a steaming pile of <i>merde</i>. Standing only encourages their
delusion-fueled performance.<br /><br />When the
curtain goes up, stand <i>down</i>, for the
love of God, country, and good taste. Stay in your
seat and send a different kind of message with your anemic-to-nonexistent
applause: Get thee to rehearsal. Keep workshopping your shit. Take an acting
class. <i>Practice</i>.<br /><br />Raise your
standards, not your body.</span></span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(photo: sparkmovie.net) </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-87527001054031497002015-02-22T12:14:00.003-08:002015-02-22T12:20:39.856-08:00Yoga pants<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TbZ6qj9gBEw/VOo4qj1UFoI/AAAAAAAACqg/8qAFLKUTbcM/s1600/betabrand%2Byoga%2Bpants%2Bfinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TbZ6qj9gBEw/VOo4qj1UFoI/AAAAAAAACqg/8qAFLKUTbcM/s1600/betabrand%2Byoga%2Bpants%2Bfinal.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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{page:WordSection1;} </style><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Ladies of the
yoga-pants-as-streetwear persuasion: Don’t get it twisted.<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />You’re just as
bad as the pajamas-as-outerwear <a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/">People
of Walmart</a>, except you have a 401K and a will to live. In fact, you live
the hell out of your life. You’ll sleep when you’re dead.<br /><br />Meanwhile, you’re
overscheduled and you don’t want anyone to forget it. You’re far too busy with
carpools and important deadlines at your WFH consulting gig to bother changing
out of your workout gear.<br /><br />Because, oh
yeah, you work out. The yoga pants say so.<br /><br />You know your
way around a Pilates Reformer and can stay in Crow pose for more than a minute
in your hot yoga class. Yoga pants are your way of broadcasting that you—and
your toned ass—are better than me.<br /><br />Yoga pants, camel toe,
and a messy topknot announce to the world that you’re fit, body and SoulCycle.
On the flip side, however, you might be of the yoga pants subset who wears them
despite having never stepped foot in a yoga studio. You <i>don’t</i> live the hell out of your life. You just live for an elastic
waistband, bless your heart, and you’re
not quite ready to make the leap to maternity pants, the ones with the stretchy
panel.<br /><br />Regardless, if
you insist on wearing your Lululemon outside of the gym or yoga studio to go
shopping or out to lunch or even to a business meeting, men should start
wearing some OG David Lee Roth spandex action. Because, you know, everyone
wants to see that, too.<br /><br />(Photo:
betabrand.com)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-16915584641755088432015-02-18T05:00:00.000-08:002015-02-18T08:49:26.440-08:00Lumbersexuals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zuqo5d5EBTo/VOLr8kpeC4I/AAAAAAAACqE/VK8CbyvsqMw/s1600/lumbersexual_3109808b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zuqo5d5EBTo/VOLr8kpeC4I/AAAAAAAACqE/VK8CbyvsqMw/s1600/lumbersexual_3109808b.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Everything old is new again. When I think about the resurgence of canning
and preserving or Michael Keaton’s performance in <i>Birdman</i>, I can get behind this.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But the lumbersexual isn’t content with honoring the past; he has to turn
it into some artisanal, curated preciousness. Authenticity is swapped out for
hipness. It’s not enough for a lumbersexual to find a favorite barbeque joint
and lick his fingers in spicy bliss. He has to amass a carefully curated
collection of regional hot sauces and a deep well of knowledge on the best way
to smoke a pork shoulder. And then create a YouTube video demonstrating the
process using his GoPro and Final Cut Pro.<br /><br />How do you spot a lumbersexual, a subset of the modern hipster male? Well, if you live in Portland, just walk
to the nearest corner. But for other regions of the country, a primer:<br /><br />Above the waist, it’s all 1871 up in there. Looking at the lumbersexual, I’m
transported to the Big Woods, tapping maple trees with the Ingalls family. Beards
are so long that they look like levers. Just pull on one and watch the
lumbersexual turn into a human nutcracker, one that could, in his facial hair,
actually store nuts—organic roasted nuts dusted with curried sea salt, obvs.<br /><br />Then there’s the plaid. Don’t get me wrong; as a former Catholic
schoolgirl, I cotton to plaid the way Taylor Swift seeks out <a href="http://www.hollywoodblogssip.com/taylor-swift-in-a-high-waisted-bikini/">high-waisted
swimsuits</a>. But I don’t want to wear it six days a week, only swapping it
out on laundry day for that graphic tee that says <a href="http://www.zazzle.com/i_shot_the_serif_shirt-235973638698674502">“I shot
the serif”</a>. <br /><br />Below the waist, the lumbersexual is completely of the moment, outfitted either
in spendy jeans so skinny he had to channel his inner teenage girl, laying on
the floor to get them zipped, or in saggy-ass Goodwill denim that gives his
suspenders a <i>raison d’être.</i><br /><br />Either way, it’s not attractive or alluring. I don’t want to get wit you
or even hang with you; I just want you to direct me to the nearest barn raising
or the best creek for gold-panning. So get on your fixed-gear bike—the one with no brakes—and head for
the hills. Find someone else to talk to about your Whiskeytown bootlegs. Roll up your flannel shirt sleeve and show off your forearm tattoo of the butcher cuts of a pig to someone who cares about the difference between hocks and trotters, because I’m way too busy plucking, shaving, and
waxing. Hair removal never gets old.<br /><br />(photo: http://www.telegraph.co.uk) </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-79633848779200218502015-02-16T08:00:00.000-08:002015-02-16T08:14:35.232-08:00First-world problems<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fzNG3V5ZQF4/VN_66j7uRII/AAAAAAAACp0/AkrcfX3_SL8/s1600/Eiffel%2BTower2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fzNG3V5ZQF4/VN_66j7uRII/AAAAAAAACp0/AkrcfX3_SL8/s1600/Eiffel%2BTower2.jpg" height="255" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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ul
{margin-bottom:0in;} </style><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After
meticulously planning a two-week vacation, my checked luggage was lost when I
landed at my destination. I had to wait around my friend’s apartment looking
out the window for a good day and a half, stewing in the same clothes I had
started my journey in, nine time zones away. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Poor
me.<br /><br />Then I
looked at the bright side.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<ol>
</ol>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was in Paris.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was staying for <i>free</i> in an apartment that was <i>two</i>
blocks from the Eiffel Tower and was outfitted with gorgeous French doors that
opened onto a balcony that I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out
that Audrey Hepburn had graced. Outside this charming apartment, the Eiffel
Tower looked like it had been painted against a background of blue October skies (see photo). <i>Quel domage</i>. </span></span></li>
</ol>
<ol>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I may
have been washing my panties out in the sink but I was in Paris. In other
words, <i>un problem du premier monde</i>.<br /><br />First-world
problems are everywhere, if you know where to look and when to listen.</span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />“Should we go
to the beach today or just hit the resort pool instead? You know I hate getting
sandy.”<br /><br />“I’m
in a pickle. My Swiss au pair isn’t arriving until a week after the kids finish
preschool.”</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <br /><br />“I
can’t decide between buying a new four-story townhome with a rooftop deck or
staying in my 1912 Craftsman.”</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <br /><br />“One of my
resolutions is to purge my stuff this year and simplify and streamline. I just
have way too many clothes, shoes, books, CDs, computer equipment, train
memorabilia, <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2010/08/precious-moments-figurines.html">Precious
Moments figurines</a>…”</span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />I sympathize, I really do. Problems are problems, even if you’re not
starving or in danger of eviction or battling the measles. But a first-world
problem that actually needs to be addressed is our collective lack of
perspective and self-awareness. I’m sorry you weren’t able to snag those
heirloom tomato seeds and it sucks that your metabolism has plateaued to the
point that you can’t lose those last five pounds. But every time you get
stressed or P.O.’d, take a breath and think of a third-world
problem.<br /><br />Nothing like Ebola or lack of clean drinking water to make the long line
at Chipotle suddenly bearable. <br /><br /><i><b>What's your favorite first-world problem?</b></i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-15494640616016694742015-02-14T13:57:00.001-08:002015-02-14T18:13:17.271-08:00Airline boarding process<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--vyUk9Rh03w/VN_EGKrFfWI/AAAAAAAACpI/2lv5oWcyZV8/s1600/Airline%2BBoarding%2BProcess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--vyUk9Rh03w/VN_EGKrFfWI/AAAAAAAACpI/2lv5oWcyZV8/s1600/Airline%2BBoarding%2BProcess.jpg" height="163" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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</style><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">I recently
was flying out of Seattle when I realized just how low I ranked on the food
chain of travel. I wasn’t flying first class. Or business class. And I didn’t have gold, silver or aluminum club status. I wasn’t a member of the military, or
even wearing camo cargo pants ironically. I didn’t have small children or a
feeble grandparent in tow. I myself wasn’t disabled, on crutches, in a
wheelchair, or zooming around in one of those motorized La-Z-Boy scooters.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;"><br /></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">And no, I
wasn’t sporting a Russell Wilson Seahawks jersey. Which on that day moved you
to the front of the pre-boarding line. </span>
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">In other
words, my carry-on suitcase and I were hosed. It didn’t matter that I checked
in 23 hours 59 minutes before our flight. I clearly was not part of any cool
kids’ club. And I clearly need to get a credit card that earns me miles. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">Can it really
be called <a href="https://screen.yahoo.com/airport-090000680.html">pre-boarding</a>
when 90 percent of passengers are locked and loaded by the time they announce
Zone 1? Airlines want us to pay for upgrades so that we can board earlier and
more importantly, feel as though we’re part of an elite group of flyers, the
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBCUkdd57qc">Star-Bellied Sneetches</a> of the skies.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Baskerville;">Here’s an
idea: Maybe they should shift it to <i>post</i>-boarding. Board all of the seemingly
normal, deodorant-wearing folks first and then call for the dregs. Wearing
<a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/2009/04/patchouli.html">patchouli</a>? You can finally board, and take the seat in the very last row.
Lump all the Chatty Cathys together and seat them in the same row. Got a pupu platter of dietary issues? You get to board, only after the gate
attendant flogs you with a bunch of lacinato kale that you get in lieu of the
snack pack. Carrying a shit-ton of computer equipment so you can rock some in-flight
spreadsheets? Enjoy sitting between the 6’7” dude in front of you and the
inconsolable toddler who likes to kick behind you. <br /><br />Or maybe the airlines should just go all <i>Lord of the Flies</i> at the boarding gate and let us fend for ourselves. Armed with my conch shell as my only carry-on item, I can assure you that I'll be elbowing my way to the exit row in short order, Russell Wilson jersey or no.</span></span></span></div>
Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-55379741341117003732013-01-13T09:00:00.000-08:002013-01-13T09:42:59.710-08:00Bathrooms without hooks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k_MADHCl2W4/UPIu5rS7q8I/AAAAAAAACiY/UCZM0gkNnlU/s1600/toilet-in-public-restroom-stall-400x600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k_MADHCl2W4/UPIu5rS7q8I/AAAAAAAACiY/UCZM0gkNnlU/s320/toilet-in-public-restroom-stall-400x600.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Fucking men. <br /><br />That's what I think every time I go into a public restroom and can't find any trace of a hook for a coat or handbag, as in "Fucking men who design these bathrooms with no regard for a woman's needs."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And what I need right now, aside from relieving my bladder, is a hook to hang my stuff on. I'm not like George Costanza—I don't strip down to do my business—but sometimes I am wearing a long coat that would be better served hanging away from my backside. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />You know what I'm talking about.<br /><br />Then there's my purse and laptop bag. I would rather not set my luscious Kooba bag or quirky Orla Kiely on the Petri dish of a floor that clearly hasn't seen a mop since the <a href="http://thingsiwanttopunchintheface.blogspot.com/search?q=oxiclean">OxiClean guy</a> died. <br /><br />Here's where I start blaming men, who traditionally don't have extra baggage (literally, at least) or clothing that needs to be hung up. Dudes don't think about the convenience factor of a hook. These are the same guys who have designed stadium bathrooms with an equal number of stalls for men and women. Um, when are you going to learn that chicks need more stalls so we can get back to the game or totally rad reunion concert just as quickly as the XYs of the world?<br /><br />So architects and building planners of every gender, when you do figure out a better ratio of bathroom stalls for women to men, throw a hook in each one, please? I've got a few hang-ups.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">(photo: insidemyshoebox.com)</span>Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5892377354556531714.post-50589187360154081722013-01-10T20:38:00.002-08:002013-01-10T20:40:57.298-08:00Desserts in jars<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kUPyqkMlh5s/UO-T6cDonhI/AAAAAAAAChY/L4Hkz-8_8sQ/s1600/6a013487f74219970c014e8aa5357b970d-500wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kUPyqkMlh5s/UO-T6cDonhI/AAAAAAAAChY/L4Hkz-8_8sQ/s200/6a013487f74219970c014e8aa5357b970d-500wi.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I love <a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/index.jsp">Anthropologie</a>, I do, but I don't want to <i>eat</i> there.<br />
<br />
These days, restaurants—so precious that I want to squeeze their white-washed and reclaimed wood cheeks—are squeezing all sorts of tasty cakes, crisps, puddings and brulées into Mason and Ball jars.<br />
<br />
Adorable.<br />
<br />
But what looks like a saccharine craft project becomes another kind of project, as I try to scrape, pull, and otherwise extract all of the tasty goodness out of the jar and into my piehole with a spoon or fork that doesn't have the same curvature. Serve my molten chocolate cake with a spatula, if you insist on stuffing it into a jar better suited for jam. <br />
<br />
Let my dessert breathe on the plate, so I can breathe a sigh of relief.<br />
<br />
<i>(The idea for this post comes from a friend with the last name, ironically, of Mason.)</i><br />
<br />
(photo: cynthiashaffer.typepad.com)Jennifer Worickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14415405216263347773noreply@blogger.com1