HNT Halloween

I'm getting ready for Halloween. Nice Pink hair.



The Masque of the Red Death
"And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall."
~~ Edgar Allen Poe

Scary stuff, no?


Happy Halloween to you all.
See the man, Os

Shakespeare for Telemarketers

Featured Blog: Fizzle and Pop

Collin is one of my oldest blogging buddies. We also worked together on the Fizzle and Pop Writing Forum a few years ago. A project that was a blast to be a part of, but extremely time consuming to moderate -- it ended with a fizzle and no pop.

That may have been my fault. I was moderating at the time and the last writing challenge ended with people wondering in comments if I was dead. And I was. Okay. No I wasn't. But don't tell them that. They might want their burial donations back.

So we never got to the voting stage on the last challenge. And now the writing forum stands as a memorial to the community of brilliant, witty writers who once played there. We may still have links on sites like a Harley Davidson shop who apparently thought their visitors would like the Motorcycles Vs Carousel Horses discussion. And the pet store who must have thought that when Collin wrote about 'petting his chinchilla' he actually meant a real chinchilla. I'm sure their visitors must get a kick out of it when they read and realize what he was actually talking about. Unfortunately this has become a Members Only section with a note from Collin:
These are games that are open to members only.
Because they're dirty and stuff.
The games.
Not the members.
I told you he was funny.

I was reading a post on the beefjerky blog on 101 Creative Ways to deal with telemarketers.
* Tell them you have that stuff for sale that they've always wanted, but this time it's gonna cost them. If they ask what stuff, tell them 'you know the stuff i'm talking about'

That made me laugh.

Then I read The Job Search Continues by Collin...

I came across a posting for "Phone Actors & Actresses"... I'm thinking "Sex Line." That, or perhaps they call up people and do Macbeth at them until they're paid to stop.

*ring*ring*

"Hello?"

"And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence."

*click*

I thought to myself that perhaps if you combine the two...
Shakespeare For Telemarketers.



You might actually have a real solution to the telemarketer problem. I would recommend that you memorize some Richard III and recite it in a loud, obnoxious, Shakespearean voice. Think Lawrence Olivier... only louder and roll your rrrrrrrrrs longer.

Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries...

Do not be detered from your speech no matter what they say on the other end of the line. This is war! You must bring them to their knees.


I hope you enjoy a visit to Collin's blog.
He's a brilliant, witty writer.

Observations From a Mall

Rotten kids. Horrible Parents. Shopping has become a nightmare.
Even Versace can't save us now.



I've been noticing it more and more lately. Perhaps it's due to the economy, the heated political environment or maybe just a cultural shift towards impatience with anything that doesn't bring immediate gratification.

This is an observation I made last week as I was setting up displays for the latest changes during Fashion Week.

The Setting: An upscale fashion store.

A mother is waiting for a fitting room. There are 6 fitting rooms and each one is occupied. She has her 3 children with her. A daughter about 12 years old. A son about 10. A little girl about 4. Mom is around 30, she has a fantastic tanning bed tan and she is in incredible shape. No doubt she keeps her personal trainer very busy. She's wearing enough diamonds and gold to give Queen Elizabeth an inferiority complex. She's carrying Dolce and Gabbana (the big blue bag, not the little one). And she's driving a gas-guzzling SUV. Her clothes are high end. The kid's clothes are high end as well. She is extremely rude to the sales staff and other patrons. She is gaudy and ostentatious; one of the patrons hand-coughs bourgeois as she walks by and others titter at the joke. However she seems blissfully oblivious to this fact. And also to the fact that she strongly resembles a ridiculous caricature of a late night TV drama character.

Mom has dragged the kids into the store so she can shop for herself. She has loaded up her arms with clothes that she wants to try on and now, a good hour or so into shopping, she is starting to get angry and impatient that she can't get into a fitting room right away. She starts to yell at the sales associate, demanding to know why there aren't more fitting rooms.

In the meantime baby is running around grabbing clothes off of racks and screaming 'I want this!', stamping her little feet and glaring at mom with an 'I dare you to say no' look on her face. Mom turns to her and says 'No. You can't have that'. Baby angrily throws the garment on the floor and goes back to the rack to grab another garment and return with it--she repeats this scenario over and over. Mom turns to big sis and yells at her 'I told you to keep an eye on her! Go get her now!' I'm thinking... It's your kid lady, you go get her.

Big sis looks overwhelmed trying to wrestle garments from baby and drags her, literally kicking and screaming, back to the fitting rooms where she promptly breaks loose and runs back out onto the sales floor.

Brother has been completely ignored during this time and he's obviously been trained that negative attention is better than no attention at all. He's been knocking over displays and taking swipes at big sis while she wrestles with baby. Mom yells at him to 'cut it out or else'.

Mom demands to see a manager. When the manager arrives mom starts yelling at her that she needs a fitting room now! Right now. She starts to curse. She wants to know what's wrong with 'you people'.

As her agitation mounts the kids become more agitated as well. They're all angry, stressed out. Lashing out both physically and verbally. Big sis looks like she's going to cry, and she is becoming increasingly rough in her handling of baby who is now slapping, kicking and pulling sis' hair to try to escape her restraint. Brother has School Bully written all over him. He's actually enjoying the negative attention he's getting for his acts of violence. He reaches over and thunks baby on the back of the head with his thumb and middle finger, making her scream like someone has poked her eye out. Big sis says 'you're a jerk!' He mimics back at her 'You're a jerk.' in a nasally voice that makes me want to pop him one. Then smack! He slaps big sis in the face while she tries to hang onto the squirming, kicking baby. Mom shouts 'I mean it! You're both going to get it!'

When a fitting room finally comes available mom turns to the fitting room attendant and says 'Watch them while I try these on'. Not a request. An order.

My jaw almost hits the floor.

She chooses to bring the children. She chooses to overload her arms with clothes to try on, at least a good hours worth of clothes changing, and now the fitting room attendant is expected to be her babysitter.

The fitting room attendant declines politely, explaining that she can't be responsible for the kids.

Mom begins another cursing fit, throws the clothes on the floor next to baby's rejected wish list, and starts yelling for the kids, with another severe outburst at big sis for not keeping baby under control. She storms out of the store screaming about what a horrible place this is and that she'll never shop here again. She's going to call corporate and complain. She stalks out to her SUV, her face distorted into a mask of insanity as she screams and yells unheard instructions at poor big sis who is trying to wrangle baby into a car seat.


The Aftermath:

When she was safely out of the parking lot and on her way back to her happy life, I walked over to the fitting room attendant, she looked up at me sheepishly, with tears in her eyes from the verbal beating she had just taken, I felt bad for her. I let loose a few choice names for 'crazy mom', telling her not to worry about it. If anything we should feel sorry for those kids. She's creating monsters that she's going to have to deal with later on. Her life must be horrid. Can you imagine being that stressed out all of the time? And teaching her kids to get that stressed out whenever they don't immediately get their way?

The ladies waiting patiently in line for their fitting rooms chimed in with their own support...
'I don't take my kids shopping with me. It's not fair to them...'
'She can afford that purse, but she can't afford a babysitter?'
'I've got news for you. That purse is a knock off.'
'It's not your fault honey, that woman is nuts...'
And then a woman who was old enough to have finished raising her kids said the most profound thing.
'I wonder why people like that even have kids? Some sort of self gratification I guess.'

Oh yeah.
Definitely.

I can't think of anything that will guarantee that your kids will grow up to be frustrated, miserable people more than teaching them that they, for whatever reason, should have an expectation of immediate gratification. That their wants and desires should become someone else's priority, simply because that's what they want. Now. And they absolutely should not be made to wait.

I see similar behaviors every day in different forms. From the grocery store to vacation spots, I see kids stressed out because they cannot get what they want immediately, and I see their parents and how they behave, how their stress and frustration is passed on to their children. It won't be long before those chickens come home to roost.

If all kids grow up to think that others should acquiesce to them, they are bound to live lives of frustration and anger. Because no one is going to give them what they want all of the time. Particularly not others who have been raised to think that what they want, they should get as well.

It is a vicious circle.



Disclaimer: This story is based on actual events, however the names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. If you see yourself or any of your family members in these characters, I can promise you that I probably was not writing this about you. And you should seek family therapy as soon as possible.

"Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfils the same function as pain in the human body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things."
Winston Churchill

This was originally published on Blogcritics. Heading there to answer comments.

HNT Fall Riding Boots

I love wearing shorts in the fall.
I love the way they look with boots.

For HNT I'm showing off my side-buckle riding boots.
They make me feel sexy. They make me feel cool.
They make me feel like posing in ridiculous places as I did here.
Ha!




What other excuse does a woman need to wear her favorite boots?
None of course. Nothing should ever come between a woman and her shoes.

'A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.'
Irina Dunne (Attributed : Gloria Steinem)



More boots next week?
Here's an HNT from the past for those who prefer lingerie to footwear.
Black. Lace. Garter.

If you posted boots this week let me know so I can add your link.


See the man, Osbasso.

Fall Fashion Flowers and Boots

London Fashion Week


I have to admit that I'm not much of a flowery person. Floral prints and bright colors don't do much for me. Still it was a relief this past week to work with the new visual landscape that the shift in fashion trends has brought about. I complained about Depression Chic. I'm not about to contradict myself by deriding the new florals and brightly optimistic neons. Truth be told it has been creatively stimulating to work on new displays and I'm actually fairly frustrated when I have to stick with prescribed visual merchandising methods. It reminds me of the excitement that I got from mixing Courtesan femininity with the hard-edged rigidity of Industrial androgeny.

And the boots for this Fall are to die for.

I have always had a passion for over-the-knee boots and thigh high boots, but the big surprise this year is what is being called "Vagina High Boots". The new 'Thigh-high faux leather boots' brought to London Fashion Week by designer Stella McCartney cost $1,385 if you're lucky enough to find a pair in stock anywhere. Keep your eyes peeled for less expensive versions of these boots. They are going to be the 'must-have' accessory for fashionistas for some time to come.


from chictopia.com

Short skirts and mini-dresses are big this year as well as leggings. Personally I still have a preference for shorts in the Fall. Loose, pleated or tight, shorts look great with either over the knee or tall slouch boots. I'll have those pictures up this week.

For work skirts and dresses I like mid calf slouch boots. They make your legs look longer. Just look at how lovely my legs look in this pair that I ruined in the rain.

I hate and I love

These chains that bind me are not of metal nor silk.
They have been forged by my own hand. My own heart.
I know I should go and yet I cannot move.

Why is it that the more cruel he behaves the more I fold myself into him? Why is it that one sharp word from his lips can send me into the darkest of places? And yet every word from my own lips is of love.

There is most certainly betrayal here. But is it his betrayal or mine? And who is being betrayed? Does he betray me or do I betray myself?

Thank you Catullus for seeing the truth in contradictions.



I HATE and I love. Why I do so, perhaps you ask.
I know not, but I feel it, and I am in torment.
~~Gaius Valerius Catullus

I knew a ferryman before.
But he was not so old as you.
He spoke from unembittered lips,
With careless eyes on the bright sea
One day, such bitter words to me
As age and wisdom never knew.
Sappho Crosses the Dark River into Hades
~~Edna St. Vincent Millay