Still...Sick...Must...Post..Blog....*gasp*

Yeah...I tried people. But it's just not happening. Back next week :-)

This Used to Be My Playground

So I got up this morning and frowned in the mirror. I was NOT feeling cute today. This week saw your fair Lily change up her workout routine (OMG…damn elliptical machines are the product of the devil!), put out project fires (Without as much as a “Dynasty-esque” meltdown), and (THIS JUST IN!) a scratchy throat/slightly stuffed nose combo that was making me look like a pug.

Mentally running through my schedule of meetings for the day, I searched for a reason to stay home. But I told myself to just grow a sack and move on. Which I did. I promptly showed up to work at my normal time and sat down in my desk. In the morning chatter with my teammates, I mentioned on the fly that I wasn’t feeling so hot and that the only reason why I showed up was because we had a technology wish list meeting that had already been rescheduled twice.

The moment I had released that statement, my teammates were on me to go home after the meeting. Waving them away and wanting breakfast, I convinced them and myself that I just needed to work through it. And I was working through it…barely. But my pride just wouldn’t let me go home. It wasn’t until my boss swung around and said, “I hear you’re not feeling well today…” (Thanks for waiting until the meeting was cancelled to narc me out, gang!) that I gave in and went home. I medicated with an allergy pill and then settled in for a three hour nap. Waking up refreshed from this break, I sat up and looked around my bedroom. One thought crystallizing in my brain:

When did work become more important than my health?

Or better yet – when did our careers take over and our leisure gets left by the wayside?

My stubborn reaction to taking sick time is typical in this day and age. We are all too scared to take time off other than our allotted two weeks (Well…they tell us its two weeks) that most jobs give us for “vacation.” Anytime outside of that can be used against our performance. Low performance means the likeliness of keeping your job hovers around slim and none.

I’ve seen it first hand. As a call center supervisor, I’ve had to utter the words, “I understand you have a sick kid/husband/parent/pet – but WE need you here.”

But how idiotic! As employers, we’re making employees decide between their own flesh and blood and a paycheck. As an employee, we’re buying into the idea that our jobs are THAT important. And don’t be so smug entrepreneurs – remember those lean, hard days where you showed up because no one else would?

It seems that after grade school, play/rest/nap time disappeared. Productivity became important and all that mattered was the bottom line. Our hours at work must be accounted for and show that we’re actually doing work. When was the last time you actually took a fifteen minute break at work? Sometimes I wish I was a smoker so I’d have an excuse not to feel so guilty for wanting to step outside! And I work for someplace I consider a good employer.

Our thirst to be more “work productive” is leaking into childhood. I mentioned to Lenny the other night that I missed recess. He told me kids today miss recess. According to my teacher husband, recess and physical education are on the chopping block with schools in order to cram more classroom time in.

A playground without tether ball? No milk and cookie break? No pick up games of basketball? No embarrassing phys ed locker room stories that are supposed to scar 1 in every 10 kids (I made that last stat up – but it was funny, admit it!)?

WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?!? We need some fun time and we need it stat!

I did my time sheet before I left the office today. Do you know how much Paid Time Off I have? Eighty hours. 80 HOURS. Two weeks, free and clear. And I also keep accruing it. What am I saving it for – a rainy day?

Okay – that’s it – time to figure out more play time! I’m taking back what’s mine!

…right after I finish my project reporting tomorrow.

Yeah. This is gonna take awhile.

Chasing Orchid: Close Encounters of the Country Kind Part Deux

This post is dedicated to Amanda *chuckles* hope you enjoy. ~Orchid

*ahem* testing testing…..so can I rant about creepy critters again? They are seriously everywhere! Today I’m going to cover daddy long legs, annoying red fruit flies, big ass bumblebees, poisonous centipedes, pillbugs or rollie pollies as I know them, Jackson chameleons and geckos (again).

Daddy Long Legs – Okay, these things are seriously icky. I teach in a portable. For those of you who aren’t familiar with portables, they are pretty much a mobile home on a cement foundation. Small, cramped, dirty full of bugs such as ants (which I can deal with), the occasional fly and *shivers* spiders. Now I’m not a big fan of spiders in general but for the most part I can deal with them. Daddy long legs….yuck, they’re extremely fast, spindly legged, just generally nasty arachnids and they’re everywhere. When I say everywhere, I mean everywhere in my portable. They’re hiding out in my closet, under my desk, in the corners, in my cabinets and even in my plastic encased fire alarm. I have no idea how to get rid of them. When I first opened my room, I took a broom, swept and smashed those suckers as quickly as I could. But I swear, we bitch about rabbits, these things multiply faster and aren’t nearly as adorable. Maybe I’ll try spider spray next. *writes that on my list*

Red Fruit Flies – Or at least that’s what I think they are. They’re a bit bigger but man are they ugly! They even have red eyes. Now these guys aren’t dangerous at all but they are extremely annoying. So far I’ve only seen one in my cottage, but damned if I can kill it. I’ve tried and the stupid thing doesn’t ever land and every time I try to smash it between my hands it’s a no go. Maybe I’ll try flying bug spray next. *writes that on my list*

Big ASS Bumblebees – HOLY HELL, these things are ginormous! I was puttering around in my kitchen, making some dinner and I heard this buzzing. I couldn’t place it at first nor could I see anything flying around the room. I finally looked at my slat windows and saw this fuzzy, black something or other. The only thing I’ve ever seen that’s close to it are the fuzzy black and yellow Winnie the Pooh bumblebees. Now those I like, I think they’re kind of cute, the thing in my window, not so much. For one it was bigger, louder and just scarier looking. On top of which, I had no idea if it had a stinger and I wasn’t about to find out. So I scrambled on top of my counter and slammed the window shut. I refused to open that thing for a week. Maybe next time....eh…see above.

Poisonous Centipedes – Okay, my landlord did warn me about these things. Now I love to walk around barefooted both outside and in. I woke up one morning and padded off, bleary eyed, to brush my teeth and get ready for the day. Having done this, I retraced my steps and started walking back to my bedroom. For some reason I was looking at the floor and saw this nasty thing a split second before I stepped on it. Needless to say I jumped over the sucker in a panic and barely managed to stop myself before I rammed my shoulder into the door frame. It was only after my world righted itself did I take a closer look and realize what it was. *pondering* I wonder if spider spray would work on those things?

Pill Bugs – All I have to say is ewwwwwwwwww. I have never known these things to be so widespread. They’re kind of like daddy long legs, everywhere. As I mentioned above, I love to be barefooted. Let’s just say my reason for disliking these things has to do with a certain “crunch” I’ve experienced a few too many times.

Jackson Chameleons – Seriously I don’t really have anything against these guys, it’s more the care involved with them when your daughter has one for a pet. How come I’m the one that has to clean the cage and feed it (crickets and meal worms) grooooooosssssss? We all know how much I love bugs. *sighs* too bad they have to be live. *looks longingly at my list*

Geckos – See I don’t hate all crawly things. I just had to mention my latest run in with geckos. My first one was at school, I was opening my windows and one of them skittered down the side and scared the shit out of me. Once I realized it was a gecko it was all good, but damn those little guys are fast! Also, I now have a resident (baby) gecko in my cottage. He’s absolutely adorable, about the size of my pinky. I hope to god he eats all my damned bugs! *debates scratching off the spray and decides against it.*

Okay, I’m done with the creepy crawlie rant, just rereading it is giving me the willies. *shivers*

BrownSuga’s sweet spot: Are you ready for some football????

Let me take you back…

The year was 1981. The month was January.

“Mrs. Suga, you can pick the date for your labor to be induced. Any day between the 21^st and the 31^st” The doctor said.

“Honey, what day do you want to do this?” My mom asked my dad.

“Any day you want, except the 25^th.” My dad replied.

“If it’s up to me lets do it as soon as possible, so I choose the 21^st.”

“Ok well then Mr. and Mrs. Suga we will see you at 7am on the 21^st.” The doctor said as my parents walked out of his office.

That Wednesday morning at 7am my beautiful mother began the process of bringing the cutest baby (me of course) into the world. At 10:48am the world became a little bit sweeter as I, Brownsuga, was born. When the doctor announced my gender, my name was determined (more about that in another blog).

In the Delaware County the year I was born, to celebrate the birth of a child, the hospital provided a very nice steak dinner to all new parents each Sunday. That year my mom ate her steak dinner with her sister.

Where was my dad?

He was at home watching the Superbowl; Philadelphia Eagles vs. Oakland Raiders.

And that began my love affair with the sport of football. Every year around my birthday the National Football League is preparing for the annual SuperBowl, the AFC vs. the NFC, and the best of the best. Most people’s favorite team originates with their hometown. And I am no different. I am a diehard Eagles fan.

Yes, yes I know. We’ve had a rough couple of years. The whole T.O. situation gave us some negative publicity but like any other TRUE fan of a team bad seasons don’t lessen my support. Want to see some real fans? Go to a Eagles game or a Chicago Bears game, or the Redskins, the Bills, the Steelers. I’ve noticed after living in both the north and the south, northern teams have more diehard lifetime fans when it comes to just about any sport. I lived in Atlanta for 8 years while in college and Falcons fans are the most fickle fans I’ve ever seen. If the Falcons are having a bad season, the seats are empty. They can’t GIVE tickets away. But no matter how many times the Eagles, Bears, Bills, or Redskins lose the stadium is packed.

One of my most missed memories is going to watch the Eagles play in Philly. It was always something all of my siblings enjoyed doing together. One day we will get the chance to do it again.

Tonight marks the first time, since Hurricane Katrina, that the New Orleans Saints played home game in the SuperDome. With rookie Reggie Bush (the only Bush New Orleans residents will EVER root for), the Saints are looking to teach the Falcons a lesson. And as the first half ends they are showing no mercy 17-3.

Fulla's Jeddah Dream House

Meet Fulla.

Fulla is like any average modern Muslim girl. She dresses in her traditional abaya overdress that protects her modesty from evil elements (Yes, boys…you are evil elements…get over it.). Fulla likes to bake cakes and read. Everyday, she takes her pink prayer rug before sunrise and devotes time to her faith.

Did I mention Fulla is 11-inches tall?

Meet the Muslim world’s answer to the Western world’s Barbie doll. In the last two years, Syrian created, Chinese manufactured Fulla has been all the rage in the Middle East. Created by entrepreneur Manar Tarabichi, the doll has come to fill a void created by the blond, blue-eyed bombshell and career juggernaut that is Barbie. According to a Chicago Sun-Times article dated October 30, 2005, “With black hair, auburn eyes and a wide selection of head scarves, she's Mecca to Barbie's Malibu.” And moreover, Fulla is designed to represent the ideals of a culture and religion that finds itself increasingly on the defensive these days.

The common consensus about Fulla’s popularity is the fact that she looks like, acts like, and believes in the same things that little Muslim girls aspire to. The Sun-Times article quotes one store owner, Mohammed Sabbagh, regarding Fulla’s selling power. "Fulla is one of us. She's my sister, she's my mother, she's my wife. She's all the traditional things of Syria and the Middle East. Barbie, to us, is a foreigner,"

This is all well and good. For years Western culture has sought to embrace different ethnicities and cultures. But, with the a business brand manager and associated products such as cereal, bubble gum, backpacks, and scarf sets I can’t help but ask the question:

Doesn’t the make Fulla EXACTLY like that infidel Barbie?

And furthermore, does Fulla not bring up the same kinds of problematic issues in Muslim culture as her Western counterpart? Here in the States, Barbie has long been a symbol of the feminist divide. On one side, you have those who believe that Barbie’s countless careers (Astronaut, teacher, and rock n’ roll star to name a few) make her a strong role model for American girls. Opposite of that, there are those who point out that Barbie’s impossibly perfect features and fashionista ways perpetuate the ideal that women are nothing but playthings to a male dominated world.

Granted, while Fulla and her gaggle of girl pals (Fulla currently does not have any male friends, but might have a protective brother in the near future) probably don’t ever have to worry about which designer is going to create their special edition head scarf, they are still marketed to be symbols of what someone out there thinks what a good Muslim girl should be.

Let’s repeat that, okay? Fulla is what many believe a Muslim girl should be. Not as an option. Not what she might become. What she will and always should be.

If the company that markets Fulla created her to combat Barbie, they seem to have tripped into the same pitfalls they claim make Barbie not an ideal role model for their girls. Instead of being something that should bring imagination and delight to the girls they wish to reach out to, her creators have marketed her to fit into a certain box. Brand supervisor Fawaz Abidin states that they created Fulla commericals “designed to convey Fulla’s values.”

Fulla, as it seems, is the Muslim world’s yes-girl. Much like Barbie can be taken as a symbol of conformity in our lives, Fulla’s handlers seek to push traditional ideals into a world that already misinterprets their faith’s rules and restricts half of their population. As the September-October edition of Utne said regarding Fulla, “She’s a plaything, yes, but she’s also an emblem of the cultural pressure to conform to one extremely limiting female role."

So, is Fulla the answer for a strong, female, Muslim role model? The answer to that question really depends on what the true purpose of the doll’s creation. If Fulla is a matter of cultural pride, created to assist Muslim girl’s celebrate their culture – then yes – she’s a wonderful role model. If the intention is the far more sinister reason of pushing girls into certain cultural boxes – then the creators of Fulla are just as bad as Western toymakers.

Regardless of the issues that Fulla and Barbie bring up in their respective cultures, we do have to remember one thing: It takes more than a doll to create strong generations of women. If we stop relying on outside influences and actually concentrate on connecting with younger generations, we probably wouldn’t have these stupid arguments of what dolls stand for.

They’re toys. Let’s try and keep it that way!

Learning From the Red Meat Wobble

The Brazilian Barbecue is an interesting culinary experience. It brings a whole new meaning to the term “pleasures of the flesh.” For the uninitiated, the Brazilian barbecue dinner involves several portions of meat served at the table to your party. You are given a little wooden toy painted on one end in red and on the other end green.

Turn it so the green end sticks-up and here come the waiters with the meat. Flip it over to the red end of the stick. But instead of red meaning “stop,” it actually means “pause.” It goes on like this until you and those in your party have had your fill. Served with sides of rice, beans, spices to top the meats, and fried plantains (or bananas), you’ve got yourself a study in gluttony.

How can you not enjoy MEAT SERVED ON SWORDS? Yeah…your dinner served on weapons of mass carnage.

While it wasn’t my first time having this kind of meal – it was an exciting experience. But as I am apt to do, I analyzed my dinner later on as I sat down at home with the bittersweet feeling of being almost overstuffed. It’s odd that I would say I learned a few things from a huge dinner like that. But, I did…so who am I to question life? Even a day after, I feel compelled to share. So if you find yourself with the opportunity to eat a Brazilian barbecue dinner…here are my survival tips:

Grilled pineapple rocks – Taste dictates that grilled vegetables are tasty. When one thinks of grilled fruit however, the first question is usually “How would you keep the strawberries from falling through the grates?” But trust me on this one, MGF faithful. Served as a bonus item on a sword, half of our party raised their eyebrow at warm pineapple. But I took it. Why not? It’s part of the meal and I needed to cleanse my palate before the next round of meat! After cutting into the fruit and tasting it…I now need to figure out how to grill pineapple on my Foreman. There was something comforting about the warmed fruit with a slightly crispy texture. Unexpected and completely delicious.

There’s no shame in saying no to Portions 8 thru 12 - Lenny and Sunny Treasure’s husband kept us pretty straight on what portions we were sitting on. But let me tell you – everything started blending together by about Meat-on-a-Sword #7 (Prime rib!). After partaking in a serving of sausage, turkey, chicken, two kinds of beef, and pork loin, I felt the onset of the red meat wobble. Ever have that? It’s the lethargy that starts to creep up after you’ve ingested a fair amount of grain fed farm animal. Handled incorrectly, you can find yourself on the floor. Realizing that continuing with the flesh festival would end in no good, I passed on the rest of the dishes, much to the chagrin of Lenny and my friends. And while I missed out on the lamb, two more types of beef, and another type of pork – I didn’t let my ego get beat up over not joining the would be Takeru Kobayashies at the table. I was happy to stay upright to enjoy the rest of the meal. And to quote good old Arnie, “I’ll be back.”

Anything…AND I MEAN ANYTHING…tastes better in bacon – Oh bacon…sweet sweet bacon. My brother-in-law and I have a theory. Bacon makes everything immediately better! Meat, cheese, paper…whatever. In this case, cuts of turkey were wrapped in the good stuff. I am ready to lobby for bacon to be a part of our Thanksgiving bird routine. The restaurant also did one better – they wrapped bacon around filet mignon. Can you beat that? The best cut of meat from a cow made EVEN BETTER by bacon. Being a carnivore never felt so good!

Keep talking during dinner; you won’t notice you’re stuffed – As each person around the table started to feel their stomach capacity being tested, I figured out the best way to keep going is to stop eating. I know…hard to do at a restaurant especially when they keep coming around with the swords full of stuff! We turned over the wooden toy to pause after Meat-on-a-Sword #8 (Lamb – I think) and took a break. It was then the 10 of us engaged in some conversation regarding police work and the differences between transvestites, transsexuals, and transgender that ended with a K9 unit story about finding a special rubber “toy” while inspecting a car. After that and a hearty laugh – we were all ready to continue with the consumption of mass quantities.

Forget the guilt, have the damn tiramisu – Now, having skipped a quarter of the meats and managing to hold my fried banana serving to two pieces, I thought I was going to throw in the towel as we laid the wooden toy on it’s side signaling we had had enough. But then, those diabolical Brazilians, brought over the DESSERT TRUCK. Not a CART…but a three tiered contraption that held the tastiest looking food of all time. And while all of us started off by saying, “I can’t eat anymore…” most of us ended up ordering and sharing a treat! And why not? We had survived the battle! We conquered meat on swords and we could still make it out to our cars on our own two feet! We had lots to celebrate…calories be damned! Besides, we’d eaten more protein in one sitting than most of us would have had in a month. Dessert was nothing to feel guilty over!

We came. We ate. We loosened our belts. And we’re planning on doing it again in six month’s time much wiser and with an emptier stomach!

MGF Best: If They Told Us to Jump Off a Bridge…

Seriously...I REALLY wanted to write tonight. But I am so out of it right now (thanks to my dinner experience you'll probably hear about tomorrow), I can't even sit straight. However, you know me...good old Type-A Lily. Can't leave it alone even if I was dying. So...here's a little treat from the not so distant past. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to run a couple miles or something. - Lily

I snorted and laughed as Lenny read from the article. Somehow he had stumbled upon a Netscape article entitled “Her Top Apres-Sex Requests” (A fancy way of saying: What She Wants to Do After Sex). Now, when he first clicked the article, about four guesses came to mind. I figured that those were “gimmes” so, being a girl who was brought up on Cosmo and Glamour’s love/sex advice, I wondered what new and exciting things the article would say.

What Lily Guessed: Cuddling, a nap, to talk, and/or take another “spin around the block.”

What the Article Was About: (directly quoted) She Wants to Cuddle; She Wants to Chat; She Wants to Do It Again; and She Wants a Nap.

I kid you not! Except for the order, I called exactly what the article was about. I sat there flabbergasted and frustrated. I wanted to stand up and scream “No shit, Sherlock!”

With the speed of light, my mind started working. Lenny took one look at me and said, “You’re going to write about this aren’t you?” My answer? Please refer to the previous paragraph.

My frustration comes to this: When did we stop listening to the point where we had to be told simple things? The Netscape article is really a great simple example. How far did they have to dig for those answers? If you are even halfway awake, its common sense to know that your chances of landing her in bed again are GREATLY diminished when you simply roll over and go to sleep. And come on guys…since when has a woman NOT told you what they want in some way, shape, or form about what they’re looking for after hitting the sheets? We are a bit more vocal these days.

We’ve stopped thinking and listening for ourselves and depend way too much on what other people tell us. The loss of independent thinking is greatly disturbing to me. Humans are willing to be led around by media or groups of people we have placed blind faith in. Think about the last time you went to a doctor. How much of that information did you really digest on your own? Probably not a lot of it. Because there was a degree on the wall of the office, you probably figured the doctor knew what they were talking about. They spent 8 years going to medical school – they should know best about your body, right?

But, taking second and third hand information and accepting it as fact is just not a gamble I’m willing to take. Doctors are human. They have been known to make mistakes (like the emergency doctor who sent me home with gall stones).

Parents – you wouldn’t even think of sending your child to a school nowadays without doing some research on it, right? I know parents who visit the potential high schools or colleges with their kids. Their decisions are not based on what their next door neighbor said. Most of time, it’s a combination of many resources and bases of research. In some cases, I’ve seen parents comb the internet for message boards, interview teachers, and even had their kids shadow students for a day.

But these are the same parents, who after all that research, time, and effort – don’t bother to see why their children are failing in school. Oh no, the kids tell them it’s because the teacher sucks. And we all know that kids wouldn’t stoop to tell a lie to get out of trouble, right? Unfortunately, some parents fall for it every single time instead of talking to – oh, I don’t know – the ADULT in the classroom?

Take control of your knowledge, people. Research more than one source. Listen and go with your gut feeling. That more than anything will help you come to a reasonable conclusion. And we need more reasonable conclusion in this world! Far too often, we just sit back and take what’s given to us…and it’s usually news we could have found on our own.

Want to lose weight? Eat less junk food. Want to have a happy marriage? Be honest with each other. Bored with your job? Find a new one that excites you. Want to get good grades? Study more. Want to get a second date? Don’t be a dickhead on the first one.

These aren’t great discoveries. They’re actual things we’ve been doing our entire lives. But because it’s in a glossy magazine or slick website, we think it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.

We have all the answers. We just have to believe we’re smart enough to use them.

Ready…Set…Hold that Grudge!

So, when is it okay to hold a grudge for a long time?

I’ve been wrestling with this question for the last few weeks pertaining to a family issue. Over the summer, there was a bit of a rift in my family. While things back home seem to have blown over – I’m finding it very hard to make amends where I sit.

It’s a little frustrating because I’ve always tried to forgive and forget. But for whatever reason this time, I can’t bring myself to let go of the issue. In between work, life, and all the other fun stuff a human has to muddle through – I’ve been trying to convince myself that I need to take the forgiveness route. And it’s just not happening.

Does this make me a bad person?

Maybe it’s the fact that I have always been able to forgive. Whenever a situation like this came up before, I just assumed I’d be able to handle anything. Perhaps the old cliché is true. There is a straw that breaks the camel’s back.

As a human, I’m beginning to think that forgiveness is a learned trait, rather than an instinct. It’s just so damn hard! When conflict occurs, there is not a black and white situation…just a hell of a lot of gray. As emotional creatures, we carry words and actions to heart. Resilient though man may be, it’s very difficult to let go of that kind of emotional assault.

In the last few weeks, I find myself dwelling on the situation and what exactly brought me to this point. Unfortunately, I’ve come to realize that there is a lot of ego involved, and that just makes forgiving a lot harder. As I pondered my predicament, more and more reasons of past hurt and disappointment kept coming up. Making it doubly hard to get past this is the fact that I’m dealing with family members. It’s a little infuriating for someone who believes in the “live and let live” process to find out they’re not as above the fray as they’d like to be.

I guess the human ego is just that huge and self-centered. We are the center of our own universes. Someone has to be “right” and someone has to be “wrong.” In every argument there has to be a winner and a loser, and everyone wants to be a winner. For most adults, we are also too blind to see that our actions and needs sometimes harm the people/relationships around us. We assume that everyone can just deal with our personalities and if they can’t – tough cookies.

And that’s why grudges are so easy to hold. It’s easier to cling to something and claim to be wounded.

In any case, I feel like I’ve run this race too many times and I’ve let myself be “the loser” in this argument far too often. Custom and culture and upbringing dictate that I have to make the first move and suffer the consequences. But, I just don’t feel like that’s fair. Being an adult means that one has to live with the decisions you make and accept responsibility for your actions right or wrong.

In order for me to feel like things can be forgiven, I just want a fair shake. But I know that it won’t happen anytime soon.

So, I guess I get to ponder this grudge a little longer.

On Lily's Watch List: Sports Movies

Much to my mother’s chagrin, I’ve always loved sports. I was able to keep up with the guys in the neighborhood and at recess, up until about the time I was told being a “tomboy” wasn’t very fashionable. Well, I was told I couldn’t play – but I could watch! If there wasn’t something on ESPN or Prime Ticket, my affinity for sports was sated by sports movies!

It doesn’t matter if the sports flick is good or bad. And the plots are usually all the same. Group of athletes face adversity, has a coach with wisdom beyond his reality, and there’s always a big game. Sometimes they win, sometimes they lose – but we enjoy watching it just the same.

I’m a sucker for them – maybe even more than chick flicks! My thirst for watching a good sport’s movie has been up since I’ve been seeing the commercials for “Gridiron Gang,” and since the start of the football season, I’ve been itching to watch a few of my favorite sport flicks. Eventually, I came up with a list of must sees.

I had about nine or ten of them – but decided on these five as they are currently my biggest “wants.” So, grab your favorite sports jersey and hunker down on the couch for some of my favorite sport movies:

Eight Men Out – (1988, Director: John Sayles) I originally watched this film in 7th grade because I was writing a research paper on the scandal upon which the movie is based. (Yes, even then I was an overachiever). But I keep coming back to the film because Sayles and his then “young future talent” (John Cusack as Buck Weaver and D.B. Sweeney as Shoeless Joe Jackson) made a period piece that really made you care. The movie covers the story of the players on the 1919 Chicago White Sox who were booted out of baseball for allegedly accepting bribes to throw the World Series. Underpaid by a greedy owner, banned from the game they love, and eventually spurned by their fans, you can’t help but feel for these guys.

The Replacements – (2000, Director: Howard Deutch) No doubt about it – this film is just a fun time! A group of “could-of-beens” and regular guys cross the picket lines when professional players go on strike. OF COURSE, the players on the Sentinels become the underdog favorites. For me, the draw to this movie is the screwball cast that doesn’t rely on typical stereotypes. I mean c’mon! When was the last time you had a football team with a deaf guy and gambling-addicted-soccer-player-turned-kicker? And somehow, Deutch managed to pull a performance out of Keanu Reeves that didn’t make me gag. Gene Hackman earns honors for one of my favorite quotations of all time: "There is no tomorrow for you, and that makes you very dangerous people."

Hoosiers – (1986, Director: David Anspaugh) The granddaddy of all basketball films. Does it surprise you that Gene Hackman is in this one too? Into a small town in Indiana blows in Coach Norman Dale. No one really knows why this talented coach has come to Podunk, IN to coach their high school basketball team. But, his hardass tactics and demanding work ethic eventually wins over the town and leads the team all the way to the State Championships. Along the way, he acquires an alcoholic assistant coach (ANOTHER drunk guy?! This is a disturbing trend in Hackman movies!) and the respect of his kids. The magic here is the journey and belief that is built around this team. These kids obviously love playing and the town loves having something to pin their hopes to. But isn’t that the true definition of loving the home team?

A League of Their Own – (1992, Director: Penny Marshall) It’s a baseball movie. It’s a period piece. It’s a chick flick. It’s Madonna playing a role where she doesn’t have to flash us her boobies. The girls of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League show you that “throwing like a girl” can definitely be a good thing. Marshall takes us on a journey with the ladies of the Rockford Peaches. While the story teaches us a bit of history during the WWII era, it’s also a great example about subtlety in storytelling. LOVE IT! You got the underplayed tension between sisters Dottie (Geena Davis) and Kit (Lori Petty). The love/hate/but completely funny relationship between Jimmy Dugan (Tom Hanks – who even belligerent is classy) and the Peaches. And of course, that unresolved sexual tension between Jimmy and Dottie (BUT THEY BOTH LOVE BASEBALL! They have to love each other! DAMN YOU BILL PULLMAN!!). When it all comes to an end, you just want to start all over again! Definitely one of my favorite baseball movies of all time.

Remember the Titans – (2000, Director: Boaz Yakin) Ever since buying this Denzel Washington movie, I always watch it when I feel like my concept of team or leadership is at a low. Social change in the 1970’s forces one predominantly white high school and one predominantly black high school to close down and form T.C. Williams High School in Virginia. Naturally racial tensions are high, but better way to show that we’re not all that different by playing a little football? And the Titans do just that. While the football montages themselves are fun – it’s the scenes at training camp that really make this movie. The guys on the team (played by Donald Faison, Kip Pardue, and Ryan Gosling to name a few) roll through their adversity and realize that as long as there’s a game to be played, everyone can get along (Hmm…maybe a game of hackey sack will help Mideast Peace?). And who can deny the cheesey goodness of the "We are the Titans" chant?

Make Your Own Evil Twin

Last week, I wrote a post that used this little gal as the physical reprsentation of "Ranting Lily." (One member of the MGF Faithful actually said it was my evil twin, Lillian!) I got a few e-mails and some comments from friends that asked how did I get so lucky to find a South Park character that looked just like me?


Well...to be perfectly honest...she was MADE for me!

Okay, everyone calm down! I don't know Trey Parker and Matt Stone (But if you guys are reading -- YOU'RE AWESOME!). I do however know how to get to the website designed by Janina Koppel called "The South Park Studio Flash."

On the website (http://www.planearium2.de/flash/spstudio.html), you'll be able to create your own likeness using all the cool stuff that makes "South Park" a riot! There are a number of these "make your own South Park character" websites, but all of them are either subpar to Koppel's creation or blatantly steal the coding from it. You're better off kicking it Old School, as Koppel's website has been around for at least four years.

But what to do with your creation when you're done? Take a tip from my former speech students. Circa 2002, Lenny and I created a South Park family photo of the other coaches we work with at the high school. The kids "borrowed" the pictures, scanned it and made a t-shirt for each of us! Still one of the best gifts I've received from my students EVER.

So -- unleash those creative juices folks! If you think you've made a particularly good one, send it in!

Chasing Orchid: Humanity Lost?

The legal definition of genocide according to www.preventgenocide.org is as follows:
The international legal definition of the crime of genocide is found in Articles II and III of the 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of Genocide.
Article II describes two elements of the crime of genocide:
1) the mental element, meaning the "intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such", and
2) the physical element which includes five acts described in sections a, b, c, d and e. A crime must include both elements to be called "genocide."

I know, I know, not the happiest topic to talk about. It started innocently enough; I teach world history to special education students. We were discussing Africa, specifically Egypt and the Fertile Crescent. Need I say my kids were snoozing by the end of the class period? Ancient history in a foreign place is boring to them. So I decided to bring them closer to the present by introducing Rwanda circa 1994. For those of you who don’t know, remember or were too young at that time, Rwanda endured a horrific period of time in 1994. Around one million members of the Tutsi tribe were murdered by their fellow man, specifically the Hutu tribe.

This certainly caught my students’ attention and while doing some research, I came across the movie “Hotel Rwanda.” This movie is based on the true story of one man, Paul Rusesabagina who incidentally is a Hutu. He manages to save 1200 people in the days during the genocide.

What really fascinated me about Rwanda was the ignorance displayed by the other nations of the world. They deliberately overlooked the atrocities that were happening. It’s also interesting that there wasn’t more media coverage when this happened. I vaguely remember hearing bits and pieces about the “conflict” in Rwanda but never anything close to the horrors that were really going on.

It seems the human race has a way of just turning a blind eye to something that doesn’t affect them directly. When I started researching genocides out of curiosity, I was amazed at the amount of information that popped up. Google or Yahoo genocide and see what happens.

I guess what really floors me is how little empathy people have for their fellow human being. A reporter in the movie “Hotel Rwanda” talks about how people will see the footage of the massacre, say it’s horrible and go back to eating their dinner. Sadly, this is pretty accurate. What happened to compassion? Even my own students when I introduced the topic were saying “Who cares, this has nothing to do with us.” They no longer feel that way, the atrocities they are witnessing through this movie have changed their views. I’m not sure how long this will last but I can only hope I’ve brought a little more humanity to the human race.

For those readers who would like more information, please refer to the website above or visit www.amnesty.org for the latest news on not only genocides but also other stories that need to be heard.

BrownSuga’s Sweet Spot: Squash it!

It’s amazing when you find out you are just like everyone else. I love to believe I’m unique, that I don’t follow the status quo. Statistics aren’t ever about me. Then someone sits you in front of what I call the “Reality Mirror” and you see yourself in a different light.

A couple of years ago, I attempted the start of my MBA in marketing (college is not for me, although for those thinking of it a master’s is much more interesting than bachelor’s degrees). One of our projects dealt with impulse buying. Of course during the class, my rose colored glasses were on and I thought I was immune to impulse buying but later when I began doing research on starting a business the topic crept back up.

Impulse buying is exactly as it sounds, anything you, the consumer, buy strictly on impulse. Imagine you are traveling on a road trip and you stop at a gas station. You stop solely to get something to drink. Nine times out of ten you have to travel to the back of the gas station in order to get that drink, causing you to walk by all the snacks. They do that for a reason. A large number of people will impulsively buy a snack even though they don’t really want it.

Also next time you at any cash register look around and see how many little knick knacks are around to buy. Retailers are taught from day one to take advantage of impulse buyers. We use colors, lighting and the four P’s of marketing (product, placement, packaging and price) all to get impulse buyers to spend more money. And just to make you aware, WE ALL DO IT!

So my advice, SQUASH IT! I was just on a site where I had to start up membership, of course at a cost. The second the payment went through, I was offered 4 one-time only offers at drastically low prices. I actually started reading them. Then I SQUASHED IT! I had to tell myself, it’s a waste of money and that I didn’t need anything they were offering me. I had already spent what I planned on spending.

Now you can be the type of person who enjoys impulse buying and if so, go right ahead and buy your little heart out. But if you think you’re immune pay attention to what you buy in a week. Oh, and if you go to Wal-Mart and walk out with 20 more items than you went in to get then you are a victim of the impulse buy.

You know as I write this, I’m thinking I hope none of my customers are reading this, cause I make a great deal of money off of impulse buyers. *looks to the side* Rock * looks to the other side* hard place.

If It Were That Easy…

Tomorrow will mark the fifth year since America woke up and found itself turning a new page in the book of its short history. September 11th was the new day of infamy and temporary despair. It was graphic in its devastation and it ripped open the heart of a country that was made vulnerable by its own success.

Lots of things have changed since that day. Brave men and women fight a half a world away in a seemingly never ending war. On our home turf, their domestic counterparts attempt to patrol our borders and secure our major modes of transportation. Closer to the ranks of regular citizens, we’ve been asked to roll with the punches. Be patient with these new measures of security. Have more and more of our lives open to scrutiny and view by those we elect to govern for us.

It hasn’t been fun. It hasn’t been pretty. It’s hard work.

But I believe that this kind of diligence has kept us from falling apart. I remember the months after attack. With emotions so raw and running high, the only thing people could do to keep sane was to talk it out. For an observer of human behavior like me, it was pretty eye opening.

You had people like my co-worker, Jane. Jane has relatives on the East Coast, and some who lived in the areas affected by the attack. Though she’s lived here for years – the attack left her almost in a constant state of panic. Each time the topic would come up, a sense of despair would wash over her. How could we go on after this? How can she ever feel safe again? Nothing would ever be the same! But even worse was that she wasn’t willing to entertain how to make it better. She was perfectly content living in fear and didn’t understand why I was being so complacent.

But, complacent isn’t the word I would have used. For Lenny and I, the attack had galvanized us to live our lives with more purpose. If we backed down from living and enjoying our lives, those that sought to destroy us would win. We were shocked, hurt, and outraged by what we witnessed. While we didn’t have any direct ties to the tragedy, we were numb. However, we decided that we were going to go forward with life.

Author Miguel De Cervantes once wrote, “Diligence is the mother of good fortune, and idleness, its opposite, never brought a man to the goal of any of his best wishes.”

Sitting around and bitching about how hard things are now doesn’t keep us safe. Trying to keep the color code straight on threat levels seems ridiculous. Getting through airport security seems harder than getting into a government installation. I joke around sometimes that the P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act Rights means you actually lose your rights. Daily we are asked to side for or against the pundits in the media that want to praise or slay how things are being run.

But let’s not lose sight of the fact that we still have a lot of work to do. Securing the future of the next generation is going to take a whole lot of planning, patience, and most of all, change. We can’t sit back and let people who hate us push us into a corner. We have to push back.

And tomorrow – don’t forget to take a moment and remember. Then do the best thing you can to honor everyone who was lost: LIVE.

I'm So Glad We're Bringing This Up...AGAIN

It happened in a blink of an eye. Our department “Fun Friday” activity involved chair racing. My partner and I had managed to eek out a small lead coming around the last corner. The other team crashed into us as their momentum swung around. Me and the passenger in the other chair, tangled limbs. I felt myself shift in the chair. I have a bad feeling about this…

CRACK!

The bike helmet flew off and hit the table. Meanwhile I landed on the floor. I was stunned, but not hurt. And suprisingly, laughing. Thankfully, they took the time to find out if I was okay before laughing at me – as was their right at the time. Having flown off a chair and landing on my ass (and not to mention that it’s all on video) in front of all my co-workers isn’t exactly what you want to be known for at the office. But I figured that I could be a good sport about it. What’s a little good natured ribbing amongst teammates, right?

I quickly found out that I could try to be a good sport about it…but my co-workers didn’t have to be.

“We saw the video.”

“You know Lily; I bet if we send it to America’s Funniest Home Videos, we’d win.”

“You were okay, so it’s okay to laugh at it.”

“It’s not like you were hurt.”

All the while, I held my ground. Tried to go along with the little remarks and embarrassment. I’m usually really good at going with the flow and taking jokes made about me in stride. Heck, I make some of the better short jokes about me than most people. I would be the mature one about it.

Well, that was my plan until today. Yet again, the “Chair Incident” popped up. I knew they were doing it just to get a rise out of me. Waiting for the “bite me” or something worse. I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction about it. I was going to take the high road about it. I was going to take it like a big girl.

DAMMIT. I’M SICK OF BEING THE GOOD SPORT!

So, I hit back. Hard. They wanted to humiliate me again? Fine. I hit them in the bread basket. I was a blur of sarcastic and cutting remarks. I went for the quick, merciless, ruthless, and meanest things I could say. They piled on more – I tried to hit back harder. I would not be satisfied until I have verbally pummeled them into submission, THEIR FEELINGS BE DAMNED.

And at the end of it – it felt GOOD.

Who says you have to be nice all the time? I mean really…joking is fun…but at some point you have to take someone’s feelings into account, you know? There comes a point where that person wants to turn around and say, “Are you done making fun of me yet? Don’t you have anything else better to do?”

And I know I can already hear it. I need to lighten up. I have to take it like an adult. They’re only kidding. They don’t mean any harm by it. It’s all in good fun.

BLAH. BLAH. BLAH.

Put yourself in that chair and see how’d you feel having it constantly brought up. Lucky you…you don’t have to.

Ranting Lily: !@#$% Number

So, I’ve been working out at the gym since late January. I haven’t turned into a workout freak, but I average 2-3 trips to my local YMCA a week. There I work 45-60 minutes each trip either on the treadmill or the circuit training machines. To augment my workout, I’ve started to watch more carefully what I eat and drink. Soda and coffee consumption down. Water and juice consumption up. Portion control is a big part of my so called diet.

The weight isn’t melting off like you see on T.V., but I fully expected that. What I was aiming for was to be healthier. And as I get healthier, I know that some of the weight will come off. And I’m cool with that.

Okay – I thought I was cool with that.

Yesterday, I made a trip to see my doctor. Over the last few months, I’ve had some tests done to figure out a minor medical issue that I have (For any of my family and friends reading: 1) Its not life threatening and 2) I AM NOT PREGNANT). Yesterday was another visit to review one of the tests. As always, my doctor wants my stats.

I’ve been in a few times, so me and the nurse had the routine down pat. Blood pressure, temperature, and blood sugar pin-prick test. Everything, as usual, was normal. The nurse ripped off the blood pressure cuff and pointed to the corner. “Okay, Missy…hop on the scale.” This was a new twist. We hadn’t done this before.

But it was no big deal in my head. According to my previous medical charts, my weight hadn’t fluctuated more than six pounds in the last five years. AND, I’ve been exercising! So I got on and watched the scale, almost excited to see where my exercise has taken me.

So, the scale hit my start weight from January.

And then it went five pounds up. And another five. And then another five.

I raised my eyebrow at the final result. It took every ounce of self-control standing there in that exam room, not to kick down the door and run out crying. How THE HELL did that scale figure I was TWENTY pounds heavier from my start weight at the beginning of the year?! And if I was THAT heavy…why are all my clothes fitting better? And I’m fitting into clothes I haven’t worn in years?

To sum up my state of mind – despite physical evidence that I’ve been doing okay…that !@#$% NUMBER SAYS I’M STILL A FAT COW.

*Several deep cleansing breaths later*

I like to think I’m not a vain person. I’ve never had a problem dressing myself or feeling confident with the way I look. My fashion upbringing was based on confidence. If you have that, you can sell the outfit you’re wearing. Confidence is the perfect accessory. I’ve worn it all these years, and I believe I’ve worn it well.

But a three digit number on a stupid scale managed to make my confidence crack faster than my parents giving me a lecture in front of my friends. All of a sudden, I was rethinking my exercise routine, my diet, and my attitude. The rest of the day, I was disheartened. I was pissed off clear into this morning. I was pissed at the scale, at the nurse, at the office, at the freakin’ time of day.

Most of all, I was pissed at myself.

I did what I said I would never do. I let a number control what I thought about how I lived my life. My one stunning accessory was undermined by a trifling number! It was truly maddening. No wonder women hate scales. They’re devices of torture and they should be abolished.

It took the better part of today, support from Lenny and my work teammates to convince me that the scale had not been calibrated correctly since the dark ages. My exercise and eating are better. I’m much healthier for it in the long run. I feel a little better about it now…but it should have never happened.

So help me – I’m never going to let that !@#$% number drag me down again.

Chasing Orchid: Chasing Jack

Okay so this thing is what I spent my evening doing as opposed to writing a post. This ladies and gentlemen is a Jackson Chameleon. My daughter is obsessed with these reptiles. I personally find them a bit creepy, not because they're lizards but because of their eyes. Have you ever seen their eyes rotate in their head? Seriously, their eyes can go in two different directions, yuck!

So I spent my time finding boxes, suitable greenery and branches, and yes...even nasty bugs for "Jack" to eat. I suppose things could be worse, *shrugs* at least this pet is easy to clean up after and added bonus *chuckles* maybe it'll eat some of the nasty bugs I've previously encountered!

Blunt Force Lily

A curling scream echoed on the landing of the stairwell and I tore up the last few of steps, arms flailing. Seconds ago, I had chucked a paperback at him for his sarcastic remark. Like a woman possessed, I charged at my target. His wide-eyed stare was fleeting as he tried to dodge my advance. Swinging my arms like a windmill, I landed a couple good smacks on his arm as he held it up to block his face. In a whirl of noise and action I toyed with him like a cat does a ball of yarn. Really, the outburst was more noise and gnashing of teeth than an actual physical attack.

And just as quickly as it started, it ended. I walked away as if nothing had happened, the shocked and confused look on his face the reward for my surprise attack. Lowering his arms, my quarry huffed at me.

“Honey, can they give you something at your doctor’s appointment this week?” Lenny entered our bedroom calling out to me as I descended the staircase again, “Seriously, you’re crazy,” he chuckled as we parted ways, not quite believing I actually did that.

Ah, but that’s what Lily White is known for. For as long as I remember, I was always the type of person who would “go there.” Blunt honesty mixed with humor either diffusing or creating a situation. Where most people would stall and bite their tongue, I let it wag out. It doesn’t matter what the situation calls for: A subtle wisecrack, an all encompassing frank thought, or just a need-to-be-seen-to-be-believed moment like the above encounter with Lenny. I have always been prone to dramatics of the ballistic kind. Even as a little kid, my Filipino relations even had an acronym for it.

“Lillian, you’re OA. Gago ikaw!” Lillian, you’re over-acting. You’re crazy!

I can’t help it. There’s something built deep inside of me that makes me go further than anyone else in the room. While most people (*coughs* Lenny, Mr. If-You-Write-It-Like-That-They’ll-Think-I’m-An-Abused-Husband) sees this little quirk as a detriment, I embrace it. Why fight it? The best I can figure – I can use my powers for good. Or at least try to, LOL.

I don’t blame the regular victims/recipients of my weird brand of humor for scratching their heads. I’ve done the exact same thing for the last few years. Is it competition? Is it a need to be the center of attention? Or is it just a perverse sense of self-esteem defense? It used to be that I held that part of me carefully. Like my finger was on the safety of a fun gun because my parents would get frustrated or embarrassed at my “smart aleck remarks.”

Then somewhere in my life, I realized that if I didn’t say what I felt or act out in a frivolous manner, it would all just pile up on me and crush me. When I tried to control it, I often felt depressed. I had something to say – but I couldn’t say it for fear of reprisal. Nowadays, when someone shoots me a shocked look after one of my little flare-ups, I shoot back, “I’m only saying what you were thinking.”

I come to the conclusion that only 10% of the time should people actually be shielded from the blunt, honest truth. The other 90%? Well, humanity can always use a good dose of straightforwardness. And in an added Lily-twist: Like Jell-O, there’s always a room for a laugh.

I can be serious, I swear. But there is a time and a place for it – and it’s not ALL THE TIME. I feel that humor always saves us from being crushed by it. Humans are far too serious for their own good sometimes. My theory is that a person is usually too consumed by their needs, wants, and desires to realize they’re all closed up to the wonderful experience that is other people. And when they hear someone like me verbally fire off at will, they feel threatened or scared. When one gets wrapped up in their own misery, they lose sight of the fact that everyone has the same problems.

But if you can let go of your ego, you get a better sense of yourself. I find that being that combination humorist and realist helps me understand and recognize my shortcomings. And maybe, I’m also a little more accepting of what I can and cannot do. Rather than wallow in them, I think it drives me to be a better person. I don’t feel the burden of having to “act” a certain way or live up to the expectations of other people.

I won’t kid myself that other people will think that my over-dramatics are an enlightened form of thinking. But I can’t do anything to help them there. It works for me. I will continue to be the cutting, laugh-seeking, tension busting person that I am.

Besides, I’ve been making Lenny wonder about my mental state for years! Why let him off the hook now?