Halloween is upon us

Aah, the one day of the year women can dress like sluts and children can take candy from strangers without any commentary from the peanut gallery.

Also the time of year we like to boost our adrenaline by engaging in "scary" activities: nighttime corn mazes, and haunted houses are making big bank for the next few weeks.

I don't go to haunted houses. Why? Because I'm the woman that covers her eyes at the movies when the music gets too ominous. I get physically ill in the wake of too much gore. (Cite: the super-speedy trip back to the house after a showing of "My Bloody Valentine 3D." Might have been the nachos, but pretty sure it was the blood.) I jump and "eep!" at every suspenseful turn. So, it stands to reason that I would not be willing to pee myself in public when someone jumps out at me from the dark with a chainsaw.

Is it a distaste for fear/lack of control, or some control-freak-i-ness that prevents me from screaming? Who cares. I'm not going to do it. Mostly because I don't want any photographic evidence of my intense fear.

Enjoy these photos of people getting scared into soiled drawers. And know that I will never be one of them.

If I had a nickel for every shred of fluff on my living room floor

I'd be an extremely rich woman. My pups are masters of destruction. Well, one is a master, the other goes along. Plush dog toys are expertly disemboweled in seconds around here. Rubber squeaky things are found in pieces in the yard a few days after they disappear (if you know what I mean, yuck). I even bought a $26 chew toy that had a video playing above it in the pet store of an adult tiger playing joyfully with it.

Me and my "smart" investment came home. I dropped it on the living room floor, went to use the restroom, and came back to find what was left of it strewn all over the house. Thank goodness for the "money back guarantee." I had to return it in two bags.

So this site makes me smile. It's good to know that mine aren't the only two pooches bent on total destruction. While my furniture is in largely good shape, I've got shoes that have seen better days, a few books that look more worn than they should, and countless rolls of toilet paper that are half what they used to be. Not to mention the occasional pile of vomit with remnants of easily identifiable favorite panties.

I'm sure you've heard by now

Steve Jobs, pioneer, inventor, iGenius, has passed. He's been sick for a while, but today he ended his struggle with pancreatic cancer.

While I'm an avid user of Apple products, the life of Steve Jobs was so much more than iStuff. He was an adopted child, a former HP employee, a college drop-out, a Buddhist, and a savvy entrepreneur.

Read more about the life of an innovator here. And here. And here.

Here's a toast to a great man. He changed the landscape of computing and social interaction. Steve, you will be missed greatly. 

The cutest power strip ever

We've all got them: power strips. Keeping our electronics from frying themselves, offering more room to plug other *necessary* items (har har) into the wall. But they're all beige, and boring. Why not shake it up?

Art Lebedev has found the solution: a digital pig. Why not? Considering how the electricity company here in Memphis HOGS my money, it's perfectly fitting.

Get your priotities straight.

I definitely need to take my own advice. I own a car I can hardly afford, I motorcycle I can't pay to fix, and tons of *stuff* I don't actually need. In fact, I have an "office" full of boxes I haven't unpacked in almost 5 years. Maybe more.

The economy sucks, the job market's worse, kids are killing each other, and I can't live without my damn iPhone. What's wrong with this picture? Not claiming by any means that I'm on the verge of an estate sale and a downsize to a cardboard box, but there are some things I (and you) need to think about a little more.

Artist Erin Hanson gives us some graphic insight into our collective excess. Remember as you look at these, that there are millions of folks with no iPhone, no Internet, no food, and no hope. If you're reading this, you have it good. And as I'm writing this, I understand that I have NO room to bitch. I'm employed, housed, and healthy. Internet access, freedom to express my opinion, and a forum in which to do it. Consider what you want and what you need, and make good choices. It's only fair.

Awww. That's cute. In the nerdiest way possible.

Years ago, I bought a coffee mug for my boyfriend (at the time) that said "I love you like zombies love brains." He didn't think it was as sweet as I did, because it's still at my house. So much for sweet gifts.

But these prints definitely get the message across. (Or I'm a ginormous nerd and can't express myself properly.) Tell your uber-smart BF or GF how you feel about them. I hear there's something called "Sweetest Day" coming up, which requires cards and flowers and crap. Make it happen, kids.

DJ Fuzzy-nuts in the hizzy!

Put your kitties to use. Get them spinning the sick beats at your next party, or busting out the vintage Al Green on date night.

Who's the culprit?

Once in a while, I come home to find something destroyed. Usually not anything important, a bag of ginger snaps I left on the counter, or a to-go box I neglected to put in the fridge, maybe a roll of toilet paper.

My older dog has the saddest "guilty" face ever. I know when it's her. But the younger one is clueless. He hops around and wags like everything's cool, and I really just shouldn't have left what-ever-it-is out. "You weren't here to entertain me, I HAD to eat the toilet paper."

I totally sympathize with this guy...

Why cough up for diamonds? Get her something she needs

Diamond engagement rings are pricey. I mean CRAZY pricey! The sad thing is, it's a tradition founded on a creative marketing ploy, not a time-honored tradition. In 1947, the DeBeers company launched it's "Diamonds are Forever" campaign in an effort to boost sales, suggesting that romantic love had to be backed up with an investment in jewelry.

So, here's my suggestion: *practical* jewelry. Rather than visit your local diamond merchant when you're going to pop the question, visit Amazon and get her something she can actually use. No worries about accidentally dropping that $4000 diamond in the sink or getting the setting caught in her hair while blow-drying. (Or scars from the wicked left-hook she shot you when you did something incredibly stupid...)

Genius, if I do say so myself. Why spend $1000s, when you can pay $10 for something that says "I love you," AND "honey, grab me a beer."

Tablet with 'tude.

I've been an Amazon customer for YEARS. If it's not on Amazon, it probably doesn't exist. I've purchased dresses and shoes, and motorcycle parts, and craft kits, and crazy gifts for friends.

Yesterday, I heard a great piece on NPR about Amazon's new tablet PC: The Kindle Fire. Not only does it access the 10s of thousand of books in their digital library, it reaches out to their movie and music content, holds Android apps, uses "Cloud" technology for faster downloads on its custom web browser, and is...wait for it...only $199. While it's not (yet) 3G compatible, it's poised to put the smack-down on the iPad.

I might have to join the tablet revolution. While a dedicated Apple customer, this price point is totally irresistible.

Could have used this in Chicago. Anywhere, really.

Apartment dwelling is a singular experience. Cramming your whole life into 900 square feet, and not being able to afford the place without a roommate cramming their whole life into the same 900 square feet. Communal living, no storage, tiny closets, sharing a bathroom with someone on the same schedule, walking the dogs at midnight in the cold. You couldn't pay me enough to do the "apartment" thing again now that I'm knee-deep in the "homeowner" lifestyle. Although, having the landlord responsible for fixing stuff was pretty great.

Maybe if I had an oasis, a personal "quiet place," I would have been more keen to the apartment experience.

The folks at Bloomframe feel my pain and have a solution. A window that turns into a balcony. GENIUS! Have a beer and watch the sunset. Read a book in the cool evening air. Enjoy the view and zone out. Construction companies need to get on top of this *quick*!

There's a museum for everything

I know there's a museum of of Sex, there's a museum of guns, and a museum of torture. Seems to me that anywhere there is a collection of information, there's a museum somewhere.

So while I'm horrified to discover this, I'm not surprised. Women have been cranky every 28 days for EONS. I guess it was just time for us to get our own museum. 

Welcome to the South!

Almost 5 years ago, I decided to pack my stuff and head South from Chicago to Memphis. While generally ill-informed about Memphis and its crime/corruption stats, it was the best decision I've ever made. I didn't recognize my friends in sunlight anymore, I was getting drunker and fatter by the second, it was time for a life change. Now I have a great house, a great job, great friends, and weather that can't be beat!

While on one of my first trips to Memphis to view houses, I discovered a door mat that I absolutely had to have. I really should have bought it when I saw it. Fortunately, the fine folks at Amazon have my back.

People are *serious* about their biscuits around here. You can't find a decent pizza or some saganaki within 100 miles, but biscuits are a totally different story. They smother them in sausage gravy (so they're all soggy) and call it breakfast. Five years later, I still don't get it.

Divorce isn't funny

More than 50% of the United States is divorced now. Children are increasingly coming from broken homes, alimony (er, "all-the-money") payments are taking over the house note, and even pets are learning to pack up their squeeky toys for a weekend at Daddy's. I'm hoping that the first time I get married is the last time I get married. But considering these stats, "pre-nup" has entered my vocabulary.

While divorce isn't funny, these cakes sure are. Having never been married, but having PLENTY of exes, I can empathize with these cake customers. Have I told you about the guy I changed the locks over...? Yeah,  I've been there.

So enjoy some delicious retribution for years of cheating, lack of attention, or whatever else caused these marriages to bust up.

Somehow, Tennesse exceeds Alabama

Tennessee has some "iffy" political practices (notably: that whole "no liquor on Sundays" thing). The "Don't Say 'Gay'" law comes to mind too. But at least we're not Alabama.

In 1998, the great state of Alabama outlawed the sale of sex toys.  Possession is not illegal, just peddling. So if you happen to find yourself frustrated, $60 in pocket, and seeking a release in Birmingham, you're best off seeking a hooker, because the sale of a sexual aid carries a $10,000 fine for the vendor, as well as a 1 year jail sentence.

Note to self: carry own vibes into AL, do not purchase.

Breaking up is hard to do

I've had my fair share of break-ups. The guy that uttered the "L" word and was suddenly MIA a week after, the guy that inexplicably decided that we shouldn't date anymore, the guy who decided I was "baby crazy" because I mentioned I'd like to have kids one day.

Lessons learned. Of the men that have wandered in and out of my life, there is only one I don't speak to anymore. Break ups are tough, but understandable. People can't date for a reason. From my perspective, if it's over, it's over forever.

So what do you do when it's over? Being the "dumper" is hard. You've invested time and love and, in some cases, money, in making the relationship work. What do you say when you can't invest another second? And being the dump-ee is just as hard. What did I do wrong, is there someone else, should I have put forth more effort?

So a Chinese company has designed a "break-up agent."  A total stranger takes the heat for you, and lets your significant other know that they are no longer significant. Genius!! Via text, phone call, or IM, your "break-up agent" will inform your not-so-much-better half that you're done. And even send consolation gifts for a nominal fee.

If only this would come to the US. I'm thinking that this might be a business venture I can get into. I know some guys...

Infomercial fodder, for sure

I heard a news story on NPR a while back that detailed the expenses of the US Congress. Not on things like education and transportation, but general day-to-day expenses. Many expenses weren't too shocking: office supplies, electric bills, etc. But the one that got under my skin was the nearly $1 million annual expense on...wait for it...bottled water.

Seriously?! Are there no faucets in the Capitol building? The EPA standards for bottled water and tap water are exactly the same, there should really be no health concerns or safety issues. In fact, wouldn't it be easier for terrorists to poison bottled water than a whole city's drinking water?

Personally, I buy a bottle of water about once every six months. I refill that bottle until the bottle is unusable, and go get another one. At home, I drink tap water. At restaurants, I drink tap water. Actually, Memphis has great tasting water. Why cough up beer money for bottled water from some spring in west nowhere?

So when I saw this, it was maddening. Not only are some lazy enough to purchase copious quantities of bottled water, others are lazy enough to require assistance *opening* the bottles. I get arthritis patients having a tough time, but the rest of us should really nut up and open our own damn bottled water. Arik Levy, please, don't enable the masses to be any lazier than they already are.

Like watching paint dry

Or tape lose it's "sticky." Except, watching paint dry doesn't involve near this much activity.

The patient genius of Johan Rijpma is captured in this video. All it's missing is some ambient techno and some glitter. Wow!


Tape Generations from johan rijpma on Vimeo.

Planking? Hah.

"Planking" (the act of lying, face down, across an object/location and taking a photo, thinking it's funny) has run its course. Make way for the new absurd Internet phenomenon: "Batman-ing."

Any jerk can lay flat across something, but only those with sincere tibular fortitude can "Batman".  I've seen Sorority monsters plank across the hood of a cab, but those orange chicks in inappropriate shoes would never be able to hang from their ankles without leather straps and some 'ludes.

There aren't enough treats on earth

I can barely get my little furry monsters to "sit" on command. One is deaf, the other is stupid: neither pay a lot of attention. If I had a nickel for every time one of them forgot that wet paws and hardwood floors don't mix (and subsequently ran face first into the oven), I'd be a rich woman. If I had the same nickel for every pile of poop I extracted from the dining room...another story entirely. (Just as tragic.)

I guess I should email Daniel Borris for some training tips.  Or cut my losses and leave a trail of Milkbones down the driveway...