Techno Terlits

If you don’t like toilet talk, no need to read any further. I’m about to digress into some of my observations on automated bathrooms in the 21st century. Public bathrooms are becoming more and more automated and quite frankly, I’m not sure I like it. Sure, anything’s better than an outhouse, but I’m not sure I need a techno-terlit either.

I hate the automatic flushing sensors. Sometimes the flusher begins before I’m ready, and that’s just wrong. I don't know if I'm unknowingly moving around too much when hovering and I'm triggering the sensor, but there’s a serious design flaw when a toilet flushes before I’m ready AND the flush is so powerful that an “old faithful” effect is created. If I wanted a bidet, I’d have one. God forbid you have to actually sit on the seat – an unexpected flush could result in an unexpected enema. I know it’s gross, but I’m right … aren’t I? I want control of the flush so I have time to clear my hovercraft out of the way.

Next on my hit list are the automated dispensers for paper towels, soap and water. I don’t know if I’m waving too fast or too slow, but I never seem to get what I need when I need it. When the soap dispenser does decide to cooperate, it’s usually after I’ve given up and moved my hands out of the way. I wish the flushing sensors were more like this!

I discovered a new toilet gadget in the ladies room at the Louisville Airport that I’ve never seen anywhere else. There’s a machine affixed to the toilet that holds a bunch of plastic wrap for the seat. You push a button, then the plastic rotates around to give you a “fresh” piece of plastic to sit on. Good in theory, but let me tell you – this is a wolf in sheep’s clothing!! First, the plastic only rotates 3-4 inches at a time so you’re never getting a full seat worth of fresh plastic. If you land your hovercraft, the left cheek may be kept clean but the right cheek remains vulnerable. And, don’t be fooled into thinking you’ll get fresh plastic by pushing the button 10 times! I’ve inspected this thing quite thoroughly (because I’m weird like that) and hell if I can tell where the used plastic went and where the "new" plastic came from. Sherlock here thinks it's the same piece of plastic going around and around the bowl. No way is this girl’s hovercraft landing there!!

All this being said, I have to agree with Dorothy: “There’s no place like home!”

Shrimp. Period.

I know anyone who bothers to read this is probably well aware, but I'm going to say it anyway:

The plural of shrimp is shrimp.

I had to get that out of my system. I have no idea how "shrimps" work their way into daily conversation, but somehow they do. Usually somebody is telling me how they ate shrimps, cooked shrimps, bought shrimps, blahs blahs blahs. Of course I never say anything because who would be dumb and catty enough to pick on someone for improperly adding an "s" to the end of the word shrimp? Certainly not me. Noooooo ... instead, I'll blog about it. Maybe an offender will read?!??!

Why do I fixate on such crap?? I don't know. Who cares if someone says shrimps? Or if they say they shop at KMarts or Walmarts? I'm certainly no grammarian, but I guess there are just some words that are annoying.

Does anybody else have words they don't like? My top offenders (even placing ahead of shrimps) are: moist, loaf and meal.

Yuck. Yuck. Trivial, but yuck.

Here's what Brown can do for me:

Stop trying to kill me on the highway every morning! It's pretty much, that simple.

I've been off work for a week and had almost forgotten about one of my more unpleasant morning routines. I find it unbelievable that every morning my exit from I-95 is perfectly timed with the entrance of a fleet of UPS trucks onto I-95. This has been happening almost every morning for the last 12+ years that I've been working at my company. There are always 5 of these trucks spaced about 15 feet apart, and they move from the far right lane across 3 lanes to merge left onto the highway. This happens at the precise time and location where I need to exit right. They barrel onto the highway with no signal, no yielding, and no apparent recognition that someone's already in the space they're taking over. It's a game of chicken, and I'm always the chicken. I always wind up in the wrong lane to prevent a crash, then I have to scoot across 4 lanes to get where I need to go after they've practically run me off the road.

I'm tired of being bullied by Brown's convoy every morning. Yeah, I could either leave earlier or later to avoid them, but why should I have to change my schedule just to keep from getting run over every morning? Probably because leaving 2 minutes earlier is smarter than getting run over. I guess I'm either spitefully stubborn or just not that smart.

The Serenade

There's a tradition in South Philly before a couple gets married called the "Serenade." I'm not sure if it's a tradition anywhere else, but I had definitely never heard of it until I moved to this neighborhood. Tradition is for the groom to visit the bride sometime before the wedding to sing a song professing his love. This has evolved into a full-fledged event, which is no surprise since South Philadelphians don't really need much of an excuse to have a party or a parade. Anyhow, last night I went to my first Serenade.

The serenade is kinda like the reception before the reception. At this particular serenade, there was a heated tent in the middle of the street with porta potties and lots of fru fru wedding decorations. There was a big decorated arch and some decorated trees at the entrance to the tent. Inside, there was a full buffet of very delicious food, a bar, a DJ, and tables for the 100+ people who attended. I had to call somebody ahead of time to find out what you're supposed to bring -- I had no idea. The answer, you don't bring anything. No gift, no nothing. You just show up. Weird, huh? I think you're expected to show your appreciation and well wishes with your wedding gift.

At most South Philly wedding serenades, it's not uncommon for some Mummers to play instead of (or in addition to) the groom singing. At this particular serenade, there were no Mummers but the groom sang. Apparently this groom is quite the singer and at one point had a sponsor fly him somewhere to audition for American Idol. He never made it to Hollywood, but he definitely had center stage in the middle of South Philly last night. He did a nice job singing a sentimental love song to his bride-to-be while the crowd hovered around with their video and cell phone cameras. Other than the actual singing, I'd categorize it as a big dinner and dance party. Very fun. In fact, I wish I got invited to more of them.

What to wear to a serenade? Outfits were quite varied. I saw everything from camouflage to hoochie tops. Jeans seem to be most common, but if you want to flash some sequins I don't think anyone in South Philly would ever bat an eyelash.

The official party lasted til around 11:30, then we left as the party after the party got underway. What I assume was the bridal party was hanging out doing shots and the father of the groom was upside down doing his second keg stand.

So there you have it -- the inside scoop on a South Philly serenade.

Bucky

Coming home from work one night this summer, I saw something crazy as I was parking my car. I looked at the basketball courts, and there was my friend Bucky running around the courts in an Elvis wig and cape! What a nut. He's got to be one of the most hilarious people I've ever met.

Back in September on the morning of the 2St 5K run, Sue and I were making our way to the starting gate. We squeezed through the crowds and said a "pardon me" as we edged past somebody dressed in a big bird costume. Yep, it was Bucky. I have no idea why he was wearing a big bird costume to the run, but it was pretty funny to see a big yellow-feathered Big Bird smoking Marlboro Reds on the corner at 9am.

What made me think of this was an unexpected course of events this morning. I was in my peapod dozing and watching TV when I heard a bunch of bagpipes outside my house. I was pretty sure I wasn't dead and they weren't coming for me, so I poked my head out to see what was going on. There was a memorial service out on the street for a fallen firefighter who lost his life 61 years ago on the corner of my street. The city was dedicating a memorial plaque, so there were tons of people from the fire department, neighborhood, news and politicians standing around for the event. For someone who's been in a funk for the last 5 months, I really didn't need another funeral to go to but curiousity got the best of me. As I stood on the corner listening to the service, someone came up and whispered in my ear "Now would be a really good time for us to go streak out in the middle of the street." I turned around -- it was Bucky. He cracked me up.

Bucky is the youngest 60-something I know. I'm so happy I started playing darts and got to meet him. He's crazy and always makes me laugh

Guilty Pleasures

Ah yes!! I have the week off from work. Other than going to visit my family in Maryland, I plan to do nothing other than indulge in some of my favorite guilty pleasures. Here's the short list:

• Watch "Saved by the Bell" every morning
• Drink Bloody Marys
• Get caught up on episodes of "I Love New York"
• Make a trip to diBruno Brothers in the Italian Market
• Try my luck at Harrah's Chester
• http://www.thesuperficial.com
• Make pork balls (Kelly, thanks for the recipe ... it's become a staple!)
• Visit the magazine rack at CVS for at least an hour
• A trip to Olidators with Sue
• Christmas carols (they're year-round for me)
• Find a good block pool for the Eagles game
• Play with my make-up and hair -- time for a new look
• Spend a couple of days in my peapod watching movies (so far I've watched "Because I Said So", "Bridget Jones Part 2" and now I'm on "The Pursuit of Happyness")
• Sushi
• Research vacation plans -- Vegas, the Caribbean, or both

If I had "Guitar Hero" I'd be indulging in that too.

Steel Magnolias

This past week was the 20-year anniversary of the release of one of my favorite movies of all time -- "Steel Magnolias." (If anyone is reading this, sorry if you're groaning already!) Anyway, the movie is about friendship between women who stick together through thick and thin, no matter what. I've probably seen this movie 200 times, and I still cry and laugh at all the same parts. I can, undoubtedly, recite most of the movie. The characters are great and remind me of many of my own friends and family members.

So speaking of steel magnolias, over the last 5 months I've witnessed one of the most couragous displays of personal strength and character in a real-life steel magnolia, my friend Sandi. She is blogging (Sandi's blog)about her experience as a newly widowed mother of two small children. You may be wondering, "why are you reading something so depressing?" The truth is, yes the circumstance is very sad, but the story that continues to unfold is sheer inspiration. Unlike this blog where I write about nonsense (like walking around CVS with wadded up underwear stuffed in my pants), Sandi's got something important to say. Without recapping her entire blog, let's just say it's all about love, legacy, courage, advocacy, and what a person does to keep going even when they don't want to. Truthfully, I feel like a voyeur every time I read her posts. I go back not only because she's my friend and I care about what she's going through, but also because her writing is very thought-provoking. Sandi is a remarkably strong magnolia, even if she doesn't feel like one right now.

Switching gears to a much lighter note, I can't resist sharing a story about another strong woman -- and I mean strong in the literal sense. Not only does this magnolia possess strength of character and have an incredible life story, but she can probably lift me over her head with one arm. Inga is my friend Karl's mother. She is interesting, sweet, funny, and incredibly physically strong. She probably weighs 100 pounds soaking wet, so she doesn't exactly look like a body-builder. At Sue's bridal shower, there was a gift of some wooden TV trays. There were two boxes of them and each one felt like it was made of solid lead. I tried pushing the boxes out of the way, and the things didn't even budge. Other people tried too, but to no avail. When Inga saw that no one could move these boxes out of the way, she picked both of them them off the ground, lifted them up over her head like they were boxes of feathers, took them out of the house, down the street and plopped them in the car. If Superman was the man of steel, Inga just might be the woman of steel!

Anyway, to all the steel magnolias in my life I say to you what Claris Belcher said to her good ole friend Weeza: "You know I love you more than my luggage!"

My new look

Last week was absolutely crazy and hectic, like being on the hamster wheel for 5 days straight. Nevertheless, right in the middle of all the chaos I got a good laugh ....

I was in a huge hurry to get to a meeting in Center City, but had to print a bunch of stuff and make copies before I could leave the office. I hate even going near our printer. It takes up an entire room and is about 10 different kinds of machines all rolled into one. It never fails that I always encounter a paper jam, some weird error code or an "out of paper" message. This time, I lucked out and was able to do what I needed to do and get out of there pretty quickly despite managing to get toner all over my hands. I washed my hands in our kitchen , gathered my stuff and off I went to my meeting in the city.

I signed in with the security guard, an escort took me to the conference room, I chatted with some people before the meeting started. All very normal. I even had a few minutes to get something to drink, then to the ladies room. As I washed my hands in the ladies room, I looked up into the mirror. Holy moly!!! I looked like I had slid down a chimney!!! I had black stuff all over my face. I must have touched my face when I had the toner all over my hands.

I had probably talked with a dozen people and not one single person said anything. Unbelievable!! Does this kind of stuff happen to other people? I'd really like to know.

By the way ...

I started a list (to the right) of links to friends' blogs. I'm not sure if I don't have a lot of friends or if my friends just don't have blogs. Hmm? Anyway, if you have a blog or something you want me to post, just send me the link. Muchas grassy ass!

The Economy Parking Shuttle: Don't Do It!!

I had a 6:55am flight to Indianapolis this morning, and thought everything was going really well when I found a parking spot quickly and made it to the shuttle stop just as a bus was pulling up. Off to a perfect start!

So I got on the economy lot shuttle and was standing in the middle of the bus with about 12 other people, hanging onto a pole to steady my balance. Very typical of public transportation -- no big deal. The bus was packed, everybody was on, but we didn't move. Over the microphone comes a snarly voice: "We ain't goin nowheres til everybody finds a seat." Everybody on the bus kinda looked at each other, and wondered exactly where we were supposed to sit since it was obvious the bus was completely full. Some man yelled back "There are no seats." Snarlypuss responded: "Yuh huh there are. I'm looking right at 'em." At this point, we either had to sit down or get off the bus because she wasn't moving. Luckily I acted quickly before things got too desperate. This old man rolled up on one cheek and made room for half of my cheek in his seat. Good enough, I thought. Some of the other people were sitting on the floor. Alas, everyone was finally seated and off we went! Flying up the aisles of the economy lot. Flying around the corner. Oh my God! My cheek flew off the seat and I was hanging with each arm grabbing a pole, stretched across the center of the bus (in my dress) like a human safety net. Somebody's golf clubs fell on the girl sitting on the floor next to me. It was like a scene out of one of those "bus gone crazy" movies.

The bus driver finally slowed down and I was able to hoist myself back into a respectable position. People got on, so now the bus was even more crowded. I just couldn't take the chance of sliding off my seat again, so I found a hiding space behind the luggage compartment. I figured if I crouched down out of sight it would be okay. How would she see me there? Well, she did. Snarlypuss got on the mic again: "Girl in the red coat, find a seat or we ain't goin nowheres." Shit! Now what was I going to do? My old "seat" was gone. I had to sit on some woman's lap, like a little (big) kid. How embarrassing. It only would have been worse if she started burping me. And all of this before 6am!!!

Luckily, we only had 2 more stops before we got to the first terminal and people got off. Of course I was the very last terminal, but by then all of my new best friends were off the bus.

Now I remember why I usually cough up the $36/day for the short term garage.

Hair ... and more

There's someone I've run into a few times over the last few weeks that has spray-on hair. It's patchy hair mixed with paint, plus paint on the bald spots. Ever since I noticed it, I run into this person everywhere. Yesterday, I noticed that not only is his head sprayed-painted, but his beard is too. It got me to thinking about hair and what is so important about it, or lack thereof, that would make someone spray paint it on their head?

My thoughts then drifted to my Mother and how anxious she is knowing that she will likely lose all of her hair during the course of her chemo treatments -- not just the hair on her head, but her eyebrows and eyelashes too. I keep telling her she's beautiful anyway and "it's just hair and it'll grow back" .... " wigs are fun" ... "just think, you won't have to shave your legs" .... and trying to make her feel better about the temporary hair problem. I think she's coming to terms with it, but she really won't be happy until she has her own hair back. I guess I don't blame her.

Originally, I was just going to write about hair, but as I got ready for work this morning I realized that most people really do care how their appearance is perceived by others. I looked at myself in the mirror and reflected on the things that hide my unmentionables from the rest of the world. Let's just say, my savior has not been a can of spray paint, but modern medicine. Without it, I'd have looked in the mirror this morning at a 300-pound amputee with a cleft lip. Ew, not a very pretty picture. My cleft lip and weight problem were fixed by surgeons, for both health and cosmetic reasons. If I had broken my elbow 100 years ago, there would have been no such thing as replacement surgery and they would have probably amputated my arm. Granted, these were not just cosmetic procedures, but I could've survived without any of them and look where I would've been. And that's just the medical stuff. I haven't even started on my need for make-up, control-tops, and hair coloring. I realized if I looked like that and I could fix it with a can of spray paint, you'd better believe I'd be spraying myself from head to toe every day of my life.

Next time I see the guy with the spray-painted head, I think I'll look at him a little differently. I still don't necessarily think that spray-painting yourself is the most effective way of diverting attention, but who am I to talk.

New Hire Training Video

Another election day has come and gone, and all across America there are a bunch of new hires waiting to start a new job where they've promised to serve people in their city, state, or region. This post isn't about who got elected, but instead I have an idea for a new hire training video that may help convey how some of us expect a steward of the public tax dollar to conduct him/herself when making decisions about how to spend our money.

My recommended training video for the Elected Official New Hire Training Class of 2008 is ....(drum roll, please) ........ the movie "Dave." This movie came out back in the 90's and stars Kevin Kline and Sigourney Weaver. Crazy? Maybe, but hear me out.

If you haven't seen the movie, I'm not going to ruin it so it's safe to read on. The basic premise is that a presidential impersonator is hired when the President becomes incapacitated and gravely ill. Now, I don't intend this training video to include the scene showing the President getting himself into this medical predicament by cheating on his wife with a hooker and having a debilitating stroke in the middle of .... well, you know. We've already had officials who apparently saw that part of the movie and decided to model their Presidential behavior accordingly (minus the stroke, of course). I'm talking about what happens after that.

The fact that an impersonator is sitting in the oval office is kept secret from the public while a few plotters use this inside information to their own political advantage. The plan goes awry when the faux-Prez actually asserts himself in the Presidential role, and refuses to just smile and nod as initially instructed. I knew that Kevin Kline wouldn't sit back smiling and waving, but I'm not sure how this eluded the dummies who hired him. Anyway, the impersonator comes out of his shell and little by little lets his own politically inexperienced personality and unconventional decision-making skills shine through. While the movie is a comedy and you dont have to like or care about politics to enjoy it, I think it does a great job of exposing and poking fun at some of the blatantly stupid things that happen in our government. Better yet, I love how the movie takes it a step further to show how someone makes a difference by simply doing the right thing and applying some basic common sense. Uh huh .... I'm onto something with my idea to use this as a training video ... aren't I?

Still not convinced? Here's an example of one of the proposed video lessons ...... There's a scene where the faux Prez calls a "roll-up-your-sleeves" cabinet meeting where every person in the room is expected to sacrifice some unnecessary spending in order to fund a program that will provide shelter and afer-school programs for homeless children. He questions $48M allocated for a program to "boost consumer confidence in a previously-owned automobile purchase." The President asks the sponsor of that bill "Do you want to tell children they have to live on the street so people can feel better about their used car?" The sponsor is quick to agree to reallocating the money to help the children. Good golly .... what a novel idea!!!???! That's one example, but the scene unfolds to reveal volumes of stupid things costing millions and millions of dollars. Yes, it's just a movie, but there's no way I believe our budget is free from this same type of bullshit. Imagine the strides that could make into education, health care reform, or whatever else is important to you .... if only the money were available. I hate to say it, but the money is out there. Hey, if someone can find $60M to pay Tony Romo for throwing a football, I have to believe there's hope of finding money somewhere to pay teachers and healthcare institutions for taking care of the rest of us.

Now I know this is only a movie, but I think it really isn't too far off base in terms of showing how more common sense, less palm grease, and being a fiscally responsible steward of the public tax dollar could make a positive difference in the lives of many. On a much smaller level, we exercise this level of scrunity all the time when we review budgets at my company. I have to wonder if that level of scrutiny takes place in real government budget meetings without Kevin Kline present to ask the tough questions!?!

By the way ... did you ever wonder how many tax payer dollars have been spent on hearings and investigations into steroid use in baseball? There are over 46M people in this country with no health insurance. Please don't tell me our new hires think its more important to spend money talking about steroid use in baseball than getting children the appropriate screenings and immunizations.

Personally, I would love to volunteer to faciliate a federal or state budget analysis session where this level of scrunity could take place. I'd volunteer in a second. I'm sick of having my tax dollar spent on stupid, over-priced and unnecessary crap. Assuming I won't be invited to do that, I'd settle for our new hires watching the suggested training video.

Nice buldge!

I know I told a couple of people this story about a recent trip to CVS, but I'm going to write about it anyway. It's just one of those things so typical of a day in the life of me. It also gave me quite a chuckle.

So a few weeks ago I had a nasty sinus cold and was feeling really really crappy. After an entire day of nose-blowing and sneezing, I decided to suck it up and make the 8 block trek to the CVS at 10th & Reed. In my leggings, a big sweatshirt, no makeup and a ratty pontyail I ventured to CVS for some relief to my clogged-up sinuses. After wandering about 15 feet into the store, I felt something weird on the back of my leg. I stopped and reached down, only to discover a massive lump in my pants. Not something growing on my leg, but something stuffed in my pants. And it was big. I didn't have my purse with me, so I couldn't reach in and do a quick grab n stuff. I wasn't sure what to do. I stood there feeling it for a minute trying to determine if it was pantyhose ... or underwear ... or a big sock. Would it be clean or dirty? I just didn't know. I couldn't pull it out, because how could I explain walking around CVS with a pair of underwear in my hands? As I stood in the middle of the store feeling and contemplating this lump, I had an immediate panic: What if I'm on camera right now and someone thinks I'm trying to steal something? I pictured the scene: security guard comes over and accuses me of stealing a bag of Halloween candy, and my only defense is to reveal my stash. Trick or treat ... it's a pair of my underwear! I'd have to show it to prove my innocence. I couldn't let this happen.

As this scene played out in my head I realized that I was probably drawing unwanted attention to myself. I immediately stopped touching my pants and tried to walk inconspicuously to the back of the store for my cold medicine so I could hurry up and get the hell outta there. Could I pull off this purchase without the blob falling out of my pants? Or getting stopped for shoplifting my own undergarments?

The cashier's line was huge, but I waited my turn and didn't worry about the scads of people behind me who were probably speculating about my massive buldge.

When I got back to my car, I pulled the mystery lump from the ankle of my pants. Voila -- it was a pair of underwear. I had a pretty good laugh all by myself right there in the parking lot.

My 2 Cents on the Birds

Everybody's got an opinion on what has to change in order for the Eagles to get back to championship form. I think we all agree that this year it just ain't gonna happen. So what would make a difference next year? Oust Andy Reid? Bench Donovan? Draft better? Have someone to give the ball to other than Westbrook? I don't know the answer, but here's a thought that's been with me for a while now:

Donovan bugs me.

Yes, he's a great athlete -- forget, for a moment, that he hasn't finished a season in years. He's tremendously capable and has, at times, been an elite. He's had huge games, huge stats and even took us to the Superbowl. All are great accomplishments. Losing the Bowl wasn't, but getting there was pretty darn good.

Anyway, so why does he bug me? He bugs me because he's a sulker. He doesn't act like a leader, and now that he rarely scrambles he's also boring. He's got no fire in his belly, unless it's right after he throws a touchdown or makes a big play. (By the way, I love the flea flicker. It's exciting to watch, and a really fun name for a football play. I wish they'd run that play more often so I could hear them say it.) All of the rhetoric I've heard and read about leaders and great people (business, sports or otherwise) says true leadership and greatness are displayed when times are tough. As soon as the Birds get behind or make a few bad plays, Donovan isolates himself on the bench and mopes. I just want to slap him. You know who else does this? Eli. He's another sulker. Talented and tons of potential, but a sulker. That's a terrible quality in a quarterback, or anyone for that matter.

The Eagles need a leader on the field. Someone to wake them up and motivate them. The best hope they have right now for encouragement and leadership may very well be the fans. A sad statement.

I have to say, I miss Jeff Garcia. He may not be a pillar of strength and athleticism, but he has a contagious energy and ability to get people excited about the game. Tampa is lucky to have him. It's ashame his career crested so late. I love watching him play, just because he goes crazy on the field and gets people fired up. He reminds me of Brett Favre, in that regard. Of course, he's not nearly as hot or gifted as Favre -- but that kind of leader is what the Birds need. The fans and the team deserve a leader who doesn't give up.

I wish Donovan would step up and be that guy, but I just don't see it happening. Would be nice if he'd prove me wrong. Not to say that's the only cure to our Eagles' woes, but I think it's a major hole in a program with more holes than a block of swiss cheese.

Nicknames

So I decided to start blogging. I have no particular cause or topics, but if you know me then you know that weird stuff happens to me and I've always thought that it would make for some funny reading. I always keep a travel journal, and I enjoy recanting funny happenings in emails to my closest friends, but blogging will be a good way to do it more consistently and to chronicle the happenings of my life. Maybe nobody will read it but me, but it'll be interesting to look back and remember life before 40. (even if there isn't much of that left!)

Recently, my friend Sandi lost her husband John to pancreatic cancer at the young age of 44. They blogged about their battle with the disease, and now in the wake of his death Sandi has continued blogging about her life as a widowed mother of two toddlers. Their blogs have really been the inspiration for me to start writing. I've always wanted to write, and I don't want to wait for something bad to happen in order for me to start doing it. Procrastination has always been one of my downfalls, and their story has given me some new perspective on the value of time and opportunity.

Anyhow, I guess I will explain the title "Barbra Peapod Disco Bubbles." I had no idea what to call my blog so I lumped some of my nicknames together and voila -- it's a blog title. Here's where the nicknames came from:

• Barbra - I gave myself this nickname by accident when I was in college. During what came to be known as "THE Message", I announced myself as Barbra then sang Barbra Streisand's "The Way We Were" aka "Memories" into my friend Autumn's answering machine with John commenting in the background. It stuck, and to a crop of my beloved friends from Penn State I am most affectionately known as Barbra.
• Peapod - Carolina gave me this one. We all need those couch potato days; however, I refer to my couch as my "peapod." It stuck, and now she calls me Peapod. She's the only one and that's fine with me. Carolina is one of my dearest friends, a former roommate, Penn Stater, and most of my best stories involve her in one way or another. Oompie, I love ya! (That's her nickname ... maybe I'll write about that one sometime.)
• Disco - My friend Michelle aka "Mira" gave me this name. When Carolina and I lived at 522 Spruce, we use to have a great apartment with a big hardwood floored living room -- aka dance floor. It was a given that after a night out, our friends and neighbors would come back to our place where the party would continue and the dancing would commence. I appointed myself as the DJ and always managed to pick out stuff that made people dance. Somebody called me "Sister Disco", which I then wrote on my plastic beer cup so I'd know which drink was mine. That was all it took, I was crowned "Disco" by Mira. I love this nickname -- it's fun, musical, happy and reminds me of really fun times.
• Bubbles - I got this name probably because my ass was so huge. It's still not little, but it's better than it was. Anyhow, Eddie at the Shamrock Pub gave me this nickname while we were playing darts. Funny, he gave Sue a nickname and we gave him one but whose name stuck ..... mine. Normally, I probably wouldn't be too thrilled about a nickname that makes fun of me being a big fat person, but I kinda liked Bubbles. It sounds happy, and I don't think Eddie ever meant to me disrespectful. That's sort of an odd statement, considering if you know Eddie he's possibly one of the most offensive people you may ever meet. I love him though. He's an original, and was one of the first people to welcome me into my neighborhood in South Philly. The name stuck, and pretty much everyone in my neighborhood knows me as Bubbles. I don't mind, and I feel lucky to live in a neighborhood with some of the best, most genuine, caring and passionate people in Philadelphia.

So that's it . I'm going back to watching the Penn State game. They're winning but only by 3 points, so I think they need some fan support. I hope this finds you having a happy Saturday!