The Tempur-Pedic Tantrum

Good morning.

It's been a long time, my friends.

It all started with a tantrum I threw.

You would have been so proud.

It all started with an idea I had. It was an original idea - a good idea. Apparently it was so good that many felt the need to copy it. And so, like an original Xerox machine the idea was used and abused until it was streaky and just not pretty at all.

Then, I had a tantrum. I refused to put out any more original ideas, saving all my best material for those who would follow the proper channels and all of the rules.

Then, I remembered that I may be a bitch, but I'm not a bureaucrat.

So, I'm back. For now. Lord only knows when I'll get grumpy again.

Beating the bureaucrat,

L

Montreal (Needs A Little Old MacDonald Tonight)

Do you watch hockey? More to the point, are you cheering for the Habs?

If, like me, the Montreal Canadiens are the hoochie to your mama during this NHL playoff season you may be slightly disappointed tonight. Like a true adult, I'm sobbing away in my beer after tonight's loss - in double overtime nonetheless.

I needed to smile. I didn't have to look far.

Numero Uno (and I'm not talking Arnold) ... Rowan Atkinson is invited to the Royal Wedding! It seems Mr. Atkinson is close friends with Prince Charles himself. One small step for an actor, one giant leap for Mr. Bean - and we could all use a little more Bean.

Deuxième ... THIS. My apologies about the link, but click it. Click it good. You won't regret it (unless you don't like to smile).

That's all for now folks.

With some sheep,

L

Here I Am (The Public Health Threat)

Hurumph.

Friends, I am slightly bitter over here in Linnie Land.

It all started last week, on Wednesday: while standing in line at the grocery store I sneezed. I wish I could say it was a cute little girl sneeze - one of the barely there blow outs, but no, it was not.

As I've mentioned before, the Powers that Be have decided my motto is "go big or go home". My sneezes are no exception, to be completely honest, I sneeze like a horse. Big and beautiful. I do, of course, ensure that my nose and mouth are pointed in such a direction as to limit the contact of my sneeze by-product with the rest of the public.

Unfortunately, none of this seemed to matter. In one quick swoop I had been push to the bottom of the public pool, I was infected. All conversations halted and I was cut out and ignored.

I was the new leper on the block, and baby, I rocked it.

Regardless, I went home furious that the public fear of disease has grown so great. I laughed at the hens behind me clucking about their insatiable need for anti-bacterial cleansers, gels and sprays.

I satisfied myself with their ignorance (all those anti-bacterial products do nothing but clean the weakest of germs, leaving the big bad ones to infect you) and my newly purchased chocolate ice cream.

A week later, I am sick. My face is leaking, I am freezing cold and my skin hurts. I have enough mucus to feed a small army (if armies ate mucus).

To you ladies in the grocery store: touche.

You have won the battle, but I will win the war.

What is your view on anti-bacterial? Are you pro Purell?

Fighting the (ferocious) flu,

L

Fill the Void, Social Media

Oh my darlings.

I plum forgot about Music Monday. I know, I know it's technically Tuesday now. As IF the Newf hasn't reminded me. Still, I found something with a good beat for you musically minded mentals.

After watching this, I think you'll see me online a lot more.

What do you think? I posted it's sibling way back in September. Oh, and regardless of what the video said, this commercial still makes me smile everytime.

Are you scared yet?

Is Big Brother watching? Or are you watching Big Brother?

Socially screwed,

L

The Best Day of the Year: It Isn't Christmas

Friends, it is a glorious day. One to be remembered and noted in history books.

Today is the first regular season hockey game. Be still my beating heart.

I am a hockey fan. A hardcore hockey fan. I may not know all the rules or the players' statistics but I can jump and yell with the best of them. I wear my team's colours with pride and a piece of me dies with the end of the playoff season.

But now, today, that piece has had new life breathed back into it. As I write this the arena is rearing to go. GO LEAFS GO!

Do you watch hockey? What colour is your blood?

Bleeding blue and white,

L

Please Help: Answer a Difficult Question

Dear friends,

I have a mind melding favour to ask of you. At the moment I am working on a large project that will *hopefully* get me where I want to go.

This is completely of my own volition but I would like to ask for your wise opinion.

What vulnerabilities do you think children face today? What do you worry your children will have to face in the coming years?

It could be a single emotion, a thought or a specific experience. Maybe it is something you yourself suffered as a child, maybe it is something you have watched another child suffer. Whatever it is, I would like to know about it.

I am hoping to draw attention to the severe difficulties (emphasis on the Western world) our precious little people face. I am not a parent so your additional input would be an invaluable point of view.

My project will be disclosed in the end, but your attachment to any ideas will be kept completely confidential if you so request. Feel free to email me LinnieDeLuxe (at) gmail (dot) com, drop me a Tweet or a Facebook message. I'll be looking for your responses.

Please, parents, friends and people of all sorts, pass on your ideas. Children are such innocent creatures, waiting for instruction on how to live life. They are our most valuable resource and I want to know what makes you worry.

This is not an easy question but if you have an idea, it would be most appreciated.

Working hard to get where I want to go,

L

Boy Howdy: A Happy Creature

There has been enough of drab and dreary material lately, so today I have a complete smile creator.

It is no secret that the Newf and I have no children. It isn't that we don'twant any, it just hasn't felt right yet. That doesn't mean I don't fawn over adorable babies like any other clock-ticking clod.

In my Facebook stalking I found something that my friend created. With no other little ones in the extended family I have found my resident baby, if you will (I think everyone should have at least one). This little guy always puts a smile on my face:

I could eat him whole, just like he's killing these blueberries. They didn't have a hope.

My lady friend has told me that Mr. Emerson is a very happy baby. He eats just about anything his mom puts in front of him and is at seven months weighs just less than twenty-four pounds.

Folks, this little family just makes me happier than anything. They may not be clad in Gucci and driving a Mercedes but they are oh, so happy.

We should all wish to be so lucky.

Bubbling with berries,

L

Let's Talk About Sex: Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Daddy always said I avoid speaking about politics and religion. Well, this may be political, it may be religious but above all else it is sexual.

Recently the "don't ask, don't tell" policy entered into the news, the Canadian news. It's a cold day when (you hit the Canadian news).

Well, here is my two cents about the matter.

First, I think that gays have as much of a right to fight for their country than anyone else. Gay, straight, bisexual, who cares? It does not matter to me, nor should it matter to anyone else.

Second, I do not agree with the policy as it currently stands. Sexual orientation, like an individual's sex, should not play a role in one's employment. One should not fear being found out (unless they are touting cocaine across a border, or something of the same).

Third, I agree with the statement, "don't ask, don't tell" in its raw state, free of the bill currently on the table. This statement needs to apply to all.

Currently, in the Canadian military one is not permitted to have a relationship of any sexual substance while deployed. This applies to any type of sexual relationship, regardless of orientation.

Whether deployed or not, why does one have to advertise their sexual orientation? Is this not gauche? A man who walks up to me, all muscles and attitude, coyly mumbling, "Hey baby, I'd like a ride on your gravy train!" gets as much attention as some woman telling me what "wonderful tits" I have.

Unless I am actively searching for a sexual partner, and a quick one at that, any type of advances from any individual are unneeded. If you know me well your advances are even less likely to be desired (as I am currently married to the Newf and he doesn't take well to competition).

So, while in the military I do not see the reason why any one individual would ever have to discuss their sexual orientation. I cannot think of an instance where saying "Oh, by the way, I'm gay/hetero/bi." is going to improve the combative situation, or further, a tense work environment. Your orientation isn't going to pull that trigger faster.

If your flashy mannerisms express your sexuality, hetero or homo, they should be toned down. One needs to be aware of their actions and how they affect others. Sexual advances or connotations are not always desired and they can constitute harassment.

Are you in favour of a "don't ask, don't tell" policy? Do you have your own view of an appropriate policy? Do you think I'm completely out to lunch with my idea?

DO TELL!

Armed and dangerous,

L

Traditional Thursday: The White Why Behind Labor Day

Labour day has come and gone, summer is dwindling and fall is upon us. Many are clearing their closet of their summer clothes, making way for their chunky knits, coats and gorgeous cashmeres.

There is an infamous rule that you are not to wear white after Labour Day. Many cry out against the tradition of banning white from their wardrobe, stating they will not fall victim to silly fashion rules. The fact that these same individuals are found prowling the malls searching for the newest trend at the cheapest price never seems to dawn on anyone.

No matter, what is the elusive reasoning behind the "Wicked White" rule? Why must we ban our crisp white linen suits and lovely leather handbags? I believe it comes down to pure symbolism.

Many suggest logical reasons for the white wardrobe rule:

We all know that white is literally, a cool colour. Ask anyone wearing a black t-shirt in the middle of July if they feel the sun and they will almost always answer with a dogged and dried up, "Yes". Surrounded by our air conditioning, fans and exposed shoulders a simple colour choice may not seem important but to those without these luxuries I bet you buttons to dollars you would be wearing white too. Let's face it, when this rule was created there was no such thing as halter tops and spaghetti straps.

Also let's not forget the effect of the rainy season (directly pre and post summer) on that lovely crisp white shirt. Again, when this rule was created a nipplely wet "mistake" was not an option. There are modern rules for such a sight but those are for another day.

Like most rules of etiquette, I believe this is all about the symbolism:

Back in the day it was chic to "summer" in various neighbourhoods and at specific resorts. This was a luxury only affordable to the affluent, as they would flock from their places of work to their treasured summer locals. Work was certainly to be avoided and was replaced by parties, beaches and more socializing than you can imagine. One wore airy white clothing while sipping drinks at a luxury resort; dark coloured clothing was reserved for times of labour and hardship.

For example, black, grey and purple are colours of mourning. White is associated with weddings, celebration and purity. If you look back at pictures of the early twentieth century, the fun-loving summer clothing consisted of seersucker cottons, white linens and Panama hats. White clothing signified a time of light hearted fun.

At the the summer's end, the affluent would move back to their permanent address and their dark wardrobes. Similar pictures of people scuttling about in the city show dark suits and coats. Fall was and still is, considered a season of new beginnings (odd, seeing as everything is dying). It may not be vocalized but many, especially in the Western World, begin school and revamp wardrobes in the fall season. Throughout the summer the retail spending is painfully slow but things pick up again with the "Back to School Season".

To the upper crust, the group that made the rules, white clothing was packed away with the fancy drinks and summer parties. Seeing as everyone wanted to be viewed as "polite society" the easy way to fake having two wardrobes was simply to avoid wearing white. With Labour Day came a new round of work and a new beginning; an opportunity to straighten up.

I will point out that this topic is largely debated but I think there is some serious merit to this argument.

Will you be wearing white after Labor Day? Have you heard of any reasoning for banning white?

Whether you wear white after Labor Day or stick to cream, off white or beige enjoy your new beginning! There is no harm in breaking the rule if you are ready to own it. Personally, I avoid white after Labor Day; as I do the entire year, it washes me out.

Strictly suppressing white (for now),

L

Wicked Wednesday: How Dated Are You?

On Monday I promised you something fabulous, provided you liked the Music Monday feature, Right Here, Right Now by Fatboy Slim.

Well, here is a video that I cannot get enough of.  It ramps me up and winds me down, all at the same time.  The music is the same Fatboy song but the video is completely different.

It was actually presented at Sony's annual meeting a couple of years ago.  It knocked my socks of.

This is not for those who puff themselves up with feigned importance.

Turn the volume up and give this bad boy a full size screen.  It is worth it.

Now, keep in mind this video is a couple years old.  

How small do you feel?  

Typically small equates to insignificant but that isn't how I feel after watching this.  Instead I feel invigorated and ready for the world.  Ready to show everyone how cool I really am.

I hope you feel the same way.

What are your thoughts?  Do tell!

Corporations aren't all bad, I suppose.  Well, we'll see.

Pensive and pretty,

L

Traditional Thursday: All About Brides and Babies

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,

How has your week been?  Have you romped and roamed and made your way back to the weekend?  I certainly hope so.

I have been back from my Newfoundland vacation for two days, and my readers, I need a break.  Silly, I know, but c'est la vie.

As I sit here, listening to Mr. Jimi Hendrix (one of my best blue mood friends, who can keep from making "fox" ears and grins?) I think it best to keep things light and simple.  

One of the very first rules of society my lovely mother taught me was the rule of no exception.  Normally there is an exception to every rule and I am usually the one to find just that abberation.  However, this is not the case today.

All babies and all brides are beautiful.

Yes, you heard me.  It is a law and how I do wish the government would put it into writing.  Regardless of the situation, mood or actual visual appearance, every single bride and baby I have ever laid eyes on is beautiful.  They may not be cute or sassy, sexy or smart, but they are all beautiful.  If I hear you say otherwise I will personally cuff and collar you.

I know, I know, there are some babies with giant misshapen heads (forceps anyone) and some brides channel too much Miss Piggy (on glue and sequins) but these creatures are all beautiful.

This law serves two purposes:

1.) This way everyone is beautiful at some point in their lives; and

2.) It prevents you from ever hesitating at gasping, "Oh goodness he/she is just beautiful!" when presented with a baby or a bride.

This may seem callous or odd, you may never have laid eyes on a bride or baby you considered anything but beautiful.  Unfortunately it should be known that not everyone is away of this rule.  Some have fallen to their social death by refraining from admitting a baby or bride's beauty.  Even worse are those who feel the need to state their opinion.  

These people, obviously, were unaware of the rule which renders their opinion moot.

Being a baby or a bride is not an easy task.  Folks, these creatures are under stress from poking and prodding and diaper changes.  They deserve a little bit of love and a little bit of beauty.

Bound and battered,

L

Traditional Thursday: Let's get Down to Business

Happy Thursday to you, my darlings!

I have always felt Thursdays needed a little love and something different than routine.  Thursday, in my mind, is like the last minute of regulation time with Friday acting as overtime.  Nothing actually gets done on Friday unless it absolutely has to, or unless by some stroke of genius (or luck) things fall into place and you cannot help yourself in putting that puzzle together.

Well, my friends, Thursday has a better use than acting as Friday's understudy.  Thursday is that final day of routine and tradition.  Let us make our Thursdays together a quick minute of tradition with which to prepare for the roaring party which about to begin on Friday.  Even if your weekend plans consist of nothing but some greasy take-out, sweats and the most comfortable couch in the world, those plans deserve a tad of class.

Let us reinforce and encourage the need for sophistication on Thursdays.  Let us enjoy a "Traditional Thursday" every week.

This week I will begin with a quick and easy discussion of etiquette and manners.  Now please, do not let these words terrify you.  Do not let visions of Cruella-esque women draped in furs or thoughts of an awkwardly proper and suitably depressing, politician (a number come to mind) crowd your mind.  Please do not fear giving up your pleasant personality, for etiquette and manners are none of the above.

Etiquette is simply the customary code that people in polite society are expected to follow.  This means that etiquette can, and does, change wildly depending on whose company you are sharing.  

Manners are the actual interactions in which you get to show off your etiquette.  

Now folks, you don't need cash or a wad of bills to to be well-behaved.  You don't need a ton of bling or a sugar daddy to boost your behaviour.  Proper etiquette does not equal money.  Proper people have two concerns: ensuring those within their company are comfortable and ensuring that they, themselves are presented in a complimentary manner.  This kind of endeavour requires nothing more than personal class and a charming temperament.

There is a group of silly people who will wander around, spouting sentences about their better behaviour and making it seem as if they are polite, proper and just so much better than you.  They will point out their assumed points of refinements and brag about having brand names and things like "P. Diddy" scribed across their chest.  Well, do not listen to these ridiculous statements.  There is nothing more improper than blowing your own horn and making others feel poorly about themselves.  In fact, this is exactly the opposite of a well-behaved individual.

To those who take part in public self-gratification, I thumb my nose at you.  Take that, boys and girls.

There are no excuses here boys and girls.  You either are or you aren't.  The good news, is that you get to decide what side of the line you stand on.

As we enter into the weekend and you begin entertaining and socializing keep in mind those around you.  Are you in a funky mood?  Could you provide someone a friendly compliment or kind word?  Is there someone you could provide a chair too?

Think my friends, then act.  If you build this habit you will be remembered, remembered and full of class.

Fine and fabulous,

L

It's A Wicked Wednesday: Garnering a Nemesis

Over here in Linnie Land, I find pleasure in the oddest of places.  It keeps me happy (my booze budget just isn't there).  Today, on this Wicked Wednesday, a word on enjoying your nemesis.

I have an enemy and I love to hate her.  My skin crawls at her mention and yet, I cannot get enough of her.  She is my opposite in so many ways and yet I find her so incredibly intriguing, I just cannot get enough.  

Who is this girl, you ask?  Who is the evil soul who plagues my psyche?  She is unspeakable, she is my nemesis.

Everyone has a nemesis, they just don't like to admit it.  Very few have the ability to enjoy their nemesis but you can.

If you don't have a nemesis I suggest you find one, pronto.  Man or woman you need a nemesis.  People are defined by the food they eat, their friends and their nemesis.  If you don't have a nemesis what does that say about you (it says nothing and who wants to be nothing)?

The key is to properly appropriating a nemesis is to avoid becoming so wrapped up in your foe that you take it seriously.  It's not.  The last thing you want to be is deranged or the new stalker in town. 

To be a proper nemesis one must:

1.) Be an individual.  I know, I know, it would be so much easier to dislike the entire group but that is just too taxing a task.  There is enough hate in the world, use your nemesis as an outlet, not a hate-mongering business.

2.) Have done something that actually annoyed you.  It is no good to have a nemesis that has done nothing wrong.  They have to majorly drive you nuts, at least for part of the day.

3.) NOT have abhorrently insulted you.  Remember, this is for fun not business.  I am not in the business of creating hate.  We have true evil people to do that for us.

4.) Be visible in a public forum.  You have to keep up on what your nemesis is doing otherwise your love/hate relationship will bite the dust?  This must be done in a public forum otherwise you risk treading onto stalker territory.

5.) Actually have the ability to win.  It is no good to pick a fight you are guaranteed to win.  In fact, that is downright despicable and will never be supported by myself.  You need a challenge and people of proper society always fight a fair fight.

6.) Most importantly, be the beginning of your end.  Whether it be your image, your day, your graduation picture, your nemesis must be able to ruin you (or already have - even Britney had a comeback).  Take this statement however you would like.  I encourage out-of-the-box thinking.

In choosing your enemy show a little gumption.  Be creative.  I was once so angry with my younger brother, Yak, that he was my nemesis for the better part of a year.  His crime?  He "forgot" to reload the toilet tissue and I was left stranded in an isolated bathroom in the middle of my fabulous birthday party.  I spent close to thirty minutes with my skirt hitched up around my ears, my bum sore with its position on the porcelain throne.  I was unable to leave the bathroom for fear of a partygoer finding me bare-assed and rummaging for something to complete my dirty task.  Eventually I settled on a sailing magazine.  Those are thirty minutes (and a shred of dignity) that I will never get back.

So, you've got a nemesis lined up.  You despise them, they make you want to pull out your hair and pretty it up all at the same time.  What do you do with them?

First, a nemesis is an amazing scape goat.  If I have had a bad day the Newf can be sure he will be hearing about how my most-hated crossed me.  Sometimes we (especially women) need something to complain about.  You do not want to solve your problems (what does that accomplish), you just want to rant (much more satisfying).  Who better to rant about than the thorn in your side?

Eventually this gets old and you need a new, more meaningful purpose for your newfound enemy.  Think of this as the ultimate video game.  You aren't out to hurt your nemesis but instead, wish to cause them as much discomfort as you were once caused.  

This is why it is oh-so-important you do not take this notion out of control.  You would hate to truly cause someone pain.  What you do want is to win.  You want to overthrow your nemesis in the game you originally lost.  This way you can hold your head high knowing you have accomplished something truly worthwhile: a sense of achievement.  

In the aforementioned example of Yak and the missing toilet tissue, I waited and hated for almost twelve months until my opportunity came: his first steady girlfriend was coming over for Valentine's Day.  He had cooked her a fabulous meal of tacos (give the little man creativity points), spread rose petals over the table and was feverishly nervous.  That day, before I left, I removed any trace of milk or bread in the house.  The poor kid didn't know what had hit him, but I did: a whole whack of hot peppers.

It was a fair trade, well not quite, but that is why I WON.

Currently, my nemesis is a girl who I quite like.  I disagree with almost every opinion she has but that doesn't mean I don't like her!  She writes the first blog I ever read regularly and she inspired me to start my own writing (at a very difficult point of my life I might add).  Unfortunately we had a difference of opinion and we both walked away wounded.  I was a tad too blunt and she was a tad immature.  She slide into the nemesis position once she blocked me from all of her social media and continued to call me names.  She didn't even give our friendship a chance.  This hurt my feelings; I really wanted to be her friend. 

I am still able to read her blog (making her visible but keeping me from stalker status), but refrain from commenting.  A few battles have been won by my army but I grow weary.

Now, I am slated to be her enemy and we will have to wait an see which of us is victorious.  If we are lucky, and the battle is well waged, we will be equally triumphant.

By now, Blogger She-Nemesis, I would be honoured to call it a draw.

Solidly yours,

L

Party Crashed (A How-To Guide)

On my way out for an evening walk it became deafening obvious the neighbours were having a party.

Not having any other plans (and a brand new Anna Scott dress) I decided to crash it.

Judging by the sounds (aka the bass) pounding from the adjacent backyard it was decidedly a younger crowd.  So, I quickly dropped off the dog and dressed for the bash.  A little difficult, despite the outdoor nature of the party, as the eight foot privacy fence made it more than hard to see what exactly was going on.

Not only that, I had never met these people so know very little about them.

Keeping in mind that I am not the stealthy type (you have to talk to the Newf for that kind of business) I enact the blunt method of party crashing.  I knock on the door and say, "Hey", "Hello", "What's shakin' ", essentially, whatever greeting matches the creature that opened the door.

Well, this is a definite MUST HAVE list for crashing a party like an A-lister:

1.) Attitude - No one will ever let you crash a party if you don't look like you belong.  Meekly knocking on the door and asking to come in will get you nowhere.  Confidence and the kinda cool that only comes from knowing you are just-that-hot will get you in almost any door.  Early in my party crashing days my attitude came from a bottle.

2.) Alcohol - Especially with a younger or more informal crowd, an obvious excess of alcohol is your ticket into that party.  Hey, I never said this would be free.  Unless an uninvited someone looks like a hot James Dean, or this guy, they are not getting through my door if I will have to provide them with my own booze.  I am taking a risk by letting you in the door, why risk my alcohol too?

If you've ever had to supply liquor to a lush (or a wedding full of Newfoundlanders) you will understand my plight.

3.) Appearance - I am not saying you have to be the next Angelina, but it definitely helps if you gussy yourself up a little bit.  Ladies, break out the hardcore mascara and glowing complexion; guys, make sure you shave/trim/comb/whatever it is you do.  Try to dress the part, using as much information as you have.

Tonight I knew very little, however, I did know:

• The hosts either lived, or were close with someone who lived, in a very expensive house.  Judging by others in my neighbourhood and the general decorations of the inhabitants of said house it was safe to say that brand names would impress.
• They enjoyed "chugging" and loud music, the loud bass told me they had not yet had the enjoyment of yelling, "What?!?  I can't hear you!" at a party with loud bass.  This screamed high school or first year university.    
• The party was taking place outside and carefully selected dance and house were blasting across the yard.  This means informal drinking, dancing and the possibility of a pool were the main attractions.

As such I dressed to impress a younger crowd: a hot halter bikini (top and bottom) and a black, clingy, low cut V-neck, jersey dress.  Topped it off with neon polish on the toes and matching lipstick and I was good to go.  The key was to make an impression without totally standing out.  If you are crashing and blinding at a party you quickly become the one everyone is whispering about, no matter how good your game.

In my arms I carried just over half a 24 of Sleeman's Original Draught and a large (read 750 mL) lidded cup complete with my own personal beverage.

I was ready to go.  I smoothly and steadily approached the house; never go too fast on approaching, someone is bound to see you.  I knocked on the door and a (cute!) boy answered!  I smiled coyly, gave him my best "I'm just SO MUCH fun" look and huskily breathed "It sounded like you guys could use this" while motioning at my beer.  As he took the beer I started dancing with my shoulders - if I had been wearing a shorter dress I would have danced with my bottom.

He invited me in, even giving me a slight bottom pat on the way through the door.

Damn I can be smooth sometimes.

If a girl had answered I would have immediately complemented whatever she was wearing (or any other obvious, nonsexual part), told her I lived next door and mentioned my husband.  Assuming she likes boys I have done two things: admitted inferiority by complementing her and providing information she could share with the rest of the group and disarmed her by admitting I was no threat to her conquests of the night, as I already have a (committed) man.

Unfortunately the party was broken up a mere half hour after my entrance.

It was a party of young (drunk) adults, enough to know I was unlikely to make any lasting connections.  

This became completely obvious when the police broke the party up.

Oh well, not all is lost.  My new jersey dress has been broken in and now, if I need to move something heavy I have a number of young boys who owe me a favour (because we all know I am not getting that beer back).  

The Newf can certainly move things heavy but why would he when his wife is wearing a hot jersey dress?

Unfailingly yours,

L

Apology Accepted (A How-To Guide)

Today was difficult.  Today, I messed up and had to pay the price; I had to apologize to The Parentals.  Now, I genuinely like and respect my parents so this made the task that much harder.

You see, it was harmless really, but it was hard.  

The Newf, The Beast and I were visiting my parents and my brother, Yak.  Yak is the only boy I know who can talk his way into a woman's arms while keeping a couple ladies waiting-in-the wings in case the first doesn't work out.  What is worse, the ladies love him for it. 

This weekend, Yak was charge of watching a dog which is well known to The Beast.  Yak was also out doing what he does best which is chat ladies up over a pint or two.  As a result, the bitch under Yak's charge was left unattended and woke up my parents at 3 A.M.

Not a big deal you say, I wasn't responsible for the dog.  Well, my parents, robed and still feeling the anger of lifting of slumber, attempted to deposit the dog with my (missing) brother.  Instead they found me in the backyard; they found me doing something I definitely should not have been doing.  Ouch.

To make matters worse, my parents were roused because this dog was attempting to wake The Beast for a midnight romp.

Yep, you've got it.  The Beast is such a frigging stud that his bitch-friend woke my parents who, in turn, caught me with my pants down.

The only rebound I had was to bite the bullet and admit defeat.

I hate apologizing, especially when you really mean it.  I feel small, sheepish and vulnerable admitting I am wrong.  Apparently the sentiment is not limited to me, which is why everyone has abandoned the practice.  This removes the initial pain, but you still look like a boob.  

I did the crime, I have to do the time.  

An apology is required any time your actions have caused a negative impact on another.  What needs to be decided, immediately, is whether this apology is sincere.  This decision needs to be made in the privacy of your own mind and is never to be discussing in proper conversation.  

Not every apology is sincere but please try to make the majority of your apologies meaningful.  Understand that there is a difference in making an apology you mean and apologizing for the sake of merit and saving face.

If you are in the position where you must apologize and you do not mean it, there is a way to include a subtle insult to ensure that not only does your image remain intact but your nemesis will regret crossing you. 

Here is the How-To Guide to Sincere Apologies:

1.) Your apology must be free from pre tense or deceit, you must genuinely want to express your regret.  This means the apology cannot be part and parcel to an ulterior motive. 

2.) Eye contact - just as in public speaking, eye contact attaches you to your audience.  Even if it is for a fleeting moment, connect with the person to whom you are expressing regret.

3.) Acknowledge your fault.  Whether it was intentional does not matter.  I didn't mean to miss the fact the dog was shattering the atmosphere of the sleeping.   Nothing elaborate, but an "I'm sorry the dog woke you, I should have been watching Dumpster Dog" resonates a lot more than a simple, "I'm sorry".    This also avoids the possibility of misinterpretation - am I sorry The Beast is hotter than hot, am I sorry I was caught without my pants or am I sorry my negligence woke The Parentals?  This way you acknowledge the grievance and make it completely clear which fault you regret.  I would never apologize for my dirty little act or the hot Beast as I enjoy both and they alone committed no offence.

4.) Take responsibility for your actions.  Do NOT blame someone or something else; do not provide an explanation.  It just doesn't matter - what does matter is that you are truly sorry for you actions and it will not happen again.

5.) If you really bungled something up, say, you accidentally ran over the dog that ruined your night, send a handwritten note directly AFTER the apology.  Please, PLEASE, complete the initial apology in person.  You may have messed up, but you are not a coward - face this head on.

What have you had to apologize for lately?  Was it sincere?

Sheepishly yours,

L