Thanks Kelly, for passing along this fabulous video to me. In the spirit of my recent transaction with www.cheaptickets.com, in which all I wanted was a flight out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming (yet the call center agents couldn't, for the life of them, understand that Wyoming was a State... in the United States of America), I'd like to share this video with all of you. I found it hilarious.
You'll need Flash 8 to play it correctly. If you don't have it, you can download it here...
Here's the link! http://www.callcentermovie.com/
Friday, May 26, 2006
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Health and Beauty Products: Go Big or Go home.
I suspect that I’m like most other women in that it pains me to think about how much money I’ve likely spent on health and beauty products so far in my lifetime. From that first jar of Oxy 10 astringent pads which lived in my Caboodle with a myriad of flavored lip glosses, to my most recent purchase which reflect an affinity for any products that boast abilities to “reduce the look of fine lines and aging,” I’ve experienced my fair share of winners and losers.
In the spirit of sandal season, I’d like to take a moment of your time today to share with you a product that has been around for ever, but I’ve just discovered. A truly effective callus remover.
Ladies and gentlemen, please raise you hand if you’ve ever questioned the usefulness of a pumice stone. Who among us hasn’t sat in the bathtub, scrubbing away at their heals, building enough thermal energy to nearly start a fire, while wondering if all efforts were truly just in vain? Don’t be shy, raise those hands high. Nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all been there.
Or how about the giant stiff brushes? Yeah, because if a porous brick won’t do the trick, surely a good foot brushing will magically slough off the dead skin. I even invested in a dremel-tool like electric device that essentially sand-belts the calluses away, but even that left me feeling short-changed.
I’ll be real honest with you folks. I gave up. Sure, I went through the motions; I’d continue with the occasional salon pedicure and interim home maintenance. But my heart wasn’t in it. I’d lowered my expectations. I’d accepted that I would always have calluses on my feet. Pretty feet and soft heals were for the other girls, not for me. I didn’t deserve true and lasting fulfillment. I tried to tell myself that it was okay, that it was an advantage, because in a pinch, I could walk across a gravel drive-way barefoot with slightly less discomfort than those other…. soft-footed girls.
But a funny thing happened to me the other day. A funny thing called “hope.”
While shopping at Target for a pair of cheap sandals to replace last year's cheap sandals which were behond trash-worthy and falling apart, I heard a little something from my inner voice. My inner voice said: “Gina, listen to me. Maybe this year things will be different. Maybe this time products will work. Maybe today you should let go of your fears. Your fears of failure, fears of disappointment, fear of unreciprocated devotion to nice-looking feet. Just PUT YOUR SLEF OUT THERE girlfriend! Do it! Try again! You haven’t lost until you’ve stopped trying! If you can believe it, you can achieve it!”
I looked to my inner voice, my higher power, and what I heard was “YES!”
So I did it. I zeroed in on the Sally Hanson product display like an elite member of the podiatric Delta Force.
Delta One to Inner Voice: “Same old shit Inner Voice, brushes, lotions, creams. This is child’s play. Abort and reroute to heavy artillery. I’m going to talk with The Good Doctor... Dr. Scholl that is.”
Inner voice to Delta One: “Excellent work Delta One, but you’re on your own now. Keep us advised here at Command Control. Good luck. Good luck and Godspeed….”
(in case you couldn’t tell, my Inner Voice went from resembling an Oprah/Dr. Phil hybrid to sounding an awful lot like Charlton Heston. Charlton Heston circa “Soylent Green,” sans the gun-toting NRA spokesman vibes. Hey- it was in my imagination, I’m allowed to mess with reality)
I repositioned and found myself uncomfortably juxtaposed with wrist braces, anti-fungal powders and bedpans. This was a different ball game. No longer was I shopping for a traditional health and beauty aid. No longer was I comforted by the proximity of my friends Bonny Bell and Max Factor. I was in the land of non-prescription medical assistive devises, drugstore reading glasses and adult incontinence aides. I was damned near the pharmacy.
And there she was. Right next to the Gold Bond Medicated anti-itch powder and bunion removal pads (still not sure what an actual bunion is, but the name alone makes them sound unfortunate enough to cast much doubt that a little sticky foam pad would be effective in removing them): a product that both frightened and fascinated me. Not just another “callus remover,” but a callus remover with the words “strong German blades stay sharp longer!” written on the outer package.
Was this true? A callus removing product containing actual razors? A tool that I could potentially REALLY hurt myself with?? How delightfully retro! The generic version’s $3.50 price tag only served to encourage my fascination, as I love products that reinforce my theory that “You get what you pay for. Except with health and beauty supplies.”
I grabbed the $3.50 store brand callus shaver thing, my $9.00 sandals and was out the door (after paying of course).
Fair reader, I’ll spare you the details of the actual callus removal process, but leave you with the following adjective that described my process:
In the spirit of sandal season, I’d like to take a moment of your time today to share with you a product that has been around for ever, but I’ve just discovered. A truly effective callus remover.
Ladies and gentlemen, please raise you hand if you’ve ever questioned the usefulness of a pumice stone. Who among us hasn’t sat in the bathtub, scrubbing away at their heals, building enough thermal energy to nearly start a fire, while wondering if all efforts were truly just in vain? Don’t be shy, raise those hands high. Nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all been there.
Or how about the giant stiff brushes? Yeah, because if a porous brick won’t do the trick, surely a good foot brushing will magically slough off the dead skin. I even invested in a dremel-tool like electric device that essentially sand-belts the calluses away, but even that left me feeling short-changed.
I’ll be real honest with you folks. I gave up. Sure, I went through the motions; I’d continue with the occasional salon pedicure and interim home maintenance. But my heart wasn’t in it. I’d lowered my expectations. I’d accepted that I would always have calluses on my feet. Pretty feet and soft heals were for the other girls, not for me. I didn’t deserve true and lasting fulfillment. I tried to tell myself that it was okay, that it was an advantage, because in a pinch, I could walk across a gravel drive-way barefoot with slightly less discomfort than those other…. soft-footed girls.
But a funny thing happened to me the other day. A funny thing called “hope.”
While shopping at Target for a pair of cheap sandals to replace last year's cheap sandals which were behond trash-worthy and falling apart, I heard a little something from my inner voice. My inner voice said: “Gina, listen to me. Maybe this year things will be different. Maybe this time products will work. Maybe today you should let go of your fears. Your fears of failure, fears of disappointment, fear of unreciprocated devotion to nice-looking feet. Just PUT YOUR SLEF OUT THERE girlfriend! Do it! Try again! You haven’t lost until you’ve stopped trying! If you can believe it, you can achieve it!”
I looked to my inner voice, my higher power, and what I heard was “YES!”
So I did it. I zeroed in on the Sally Hanson product display like an elite member of the podiatric Delta Force.
Delta One to Inner Voice: “Same old shit Inner Voice, brushes, lotions, creams. This is child’s play. Abort and reroute to heavy artillery. I’m going to talk with The Good Doctor... Dr. Scholl that is.”
Inner voice to Delta One: “Excellent work Delta One, but you’re on your own now. Keep us advised here at Command Control. Good luck. Good luck and Godspeed….”
(in case you couldn’t tell, my Inner Voice went from resembling an Oprah/Dr. Phil hybrid to sounding an awful lot like Charlton Heston. Charlton Heston circa “Soylent Green,” sans the gun-toting NRA spokesman vibes. Hey- it was in my imagination, I’m allowed to mess with reality)
I repositioned and found myself uncomfortably juxtaposed with wrist braces, anti-fungal powders and bedpans. This was a different ball game. No longer was I shopping for a traditional health and beauty aid. No longer was I comforted by the proximity of my friends Bonny Bell and Max Factor. I was in the land of non-prescription medical assistive devises, drugstore reading glasses and adult incontinence aides. I was damned near the pharmacy.
And there she was. Right next to the Gold Bond Medicated anti-itch powder and bunion removal pads (still not sure what an actual bunion is, but the name alone makes them sound unfortunate enough to cast much doubt that a little sticky foam pad would be effective in removing them): a product that both frightened and fascinated me. Not just another “callus remover,” but a callus remover with the words “strong German blades stay sharp longer!” written on the outer package.
Was this true? A callus removing product containing actual razors? A tool that I could potentially REALLY hurt myself with?? How delightfully retro! The generic version’s $3.50 price tag only served to encourage my fascination, as I love products that reinforce my theory that “You get what you pay for. Except with health and beauty supplies.”
I grabbed the $3.50 store brand callus shaver thing, my $9.00 sandals and was out the door (after paying of course).
Fair reader, I’ll spare you the details of the actual callus removal process, but leave you with the following adjective that described my process:
Effective, gratifying, quick, thorough, fabulous, horrendous, shocking, intriguing, unexpected, liberating, frightening, joyous, fulfilling.
All for $3.50.
So today a part of me is gone. A dead and callused part of me, and I’m a better person for it. I thank you Inner Voice, for pulling me out of that foggy haze of foot apathy and depression, and I thank you Dr. Schol, for reminding me that like eye-lash curlers, sometimes the freakiest and oddest-looking contraptions make the best healthy and beauty must-haves.
End scene.
Topic for another day: I no longer have any respect for Paul McCartney, as he apparently turned down his then fiancé’s offer to sign a prenuptial agreement citing that it was “unromantic.” Nice move Paul. Maybe all those trips to the strawberry fields took a larger toll on your ability to perceive reality than one might have initially assumed. She’ll likely be walking away with hundred of millions. (of still valuable POUNDS). You’re a frigg’n BEATLE for the love of God. You have A LOT to lose. Did you learn nothing after teaching Jacko how to buy music rights? Sometimes reality interferes with an individual’s ability to be super nice. It’s the world we live in Paul. Welcome to it.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Once again, I've been peer-pressured into the Circle of Youth.
I’d been resisting MySpace. Resisting it like I’ve resisted Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and Blackberries. I’ve been duped before by passing trends- I always seem to be on the losing end of them. I have an extensive Beanie Baby collection. I have a Palm Pilot with at leather Tumi case which is likely worth a whole lot more than the device itself. I have a page on Friendster. Heck, Daphne has more friends on Dogster than I have on Friendster. And SHE’S one of my Friendster friends…
I wasn’t going to spend my precious Gray’s Anatomy Watching Time on a MySpace profile. I mean really, It’s not like I’m looking for online MySpace love or anything, and certainly not looking for attention from old men who have grown a recent and unexplainable of fear of Dateline NBC.
But leave it to Jennifer to sway the Ginapalooza Opinion Poll toward jumping right into the BLEEDING EDGE of technology and all that is NOW and COOL and YOUTHFUL! (don’t worry, I was trying to be ironic by using the term “bleeding edge”, because it, and MySpace are no longer the newest/hippest/coolest). Because it’s true, everyone is on MySpace. Okay, not everyone, but enough people who I haven’t seen in years just to make it interesting. And since I won’t be able to make it to my High School reunion this summer (which is weird, because of all people, I never thought that I would be among the married people at my 10 year high school reunion. But hey, the world has its own timeline… which rarely coincides with my own. Okay, digressing again.), I thought this would be a fun way to sneak up on old acquaintances.
So once again, I’m jumping on a trend wagon. With this in mind, you can almost guarantee that MySpace will be “sooooo over” in about three months. The clock starts today.
I wasn’t going to spend my precious Gray’s Anatomy Watching Time on a MySpace profile. I mean really, It’s not like I’m looking for online MySpace love or anything, and certainly not looking for attention from old men who have grown a recent and unexplainable of fear of Dateline NBC.
But leave it to Jennifer to sway the Ginapalooza Opinion Poll toward jumping right into the BLEEDING EDGE of technology and all that is NOW and COOL and YOUTHFUL! (don’t worry, I was trying to be ironic by using the term “bleeding edge”, because it, and MySpace are no longer the newest/hippest/coolest). Because it’s true, everyone is on MySpace. Okay, not everyone, but enough people who I haven’t seen in years just to make it interesting. And since I won’t be able to make it to my High School reunion this summer (which is weird, because of all people, I never thought that I would be among the married people at my 10 year high school reunion. But hey, the world has its own timeline… which rarely coincides with my own. Okay, digressing again.), I thought this would be a fun way to sneak up on old acquaintances.
So once again, I’m jumping on a trend wagon. With this in mind, you can almost guarantee that MySpace will be “sooooo over” in about three months. The clock starts today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
