Please, whatever you do, don't make it less awkward.

Just a thought. When you're in a business or commerce situation where you're trying to get your way, what is the benefit of making it really really awkward for everyone else?


I was at the doctor's office yesterday where I get a regular allergy shot every few weeks. This office has an elaborate system set up that enables allergy-shot people to have plenty of opportunities in the week to get their shot. There are three offices through Mercer, Somerset, and Hunterdon counties with an array of hours starting as early as 8:30 in the morning through 7 at night. And if none of those days or times work, you can ask to get your shot in another office. Fool-proof. Almost.



Yesterday, at 7:03PM, a woman walked in and expected service. She ran the gamut of trying to get her shot by acting:



- apologetic & cutesy that she ran in at the last minute (it wasn't)

- confused that she was only one minute late (she wasn't)

- insistent that someone had told her it was ok (they hadn't)

- mad that she had rushed over and wasn't going to get her service (they weren't)

- lather, rinse, repeat.



This awkward debacle went on twenty minutes much to the (non) enjoyment of those few of left in the waiting room. The receptionist did her best to stay calm. The woman insisted on seeing a nurse before leaving (as if the receptionist was unable to relay all the medical communication correctly -- not winning any brownie points with the front office today!)



When she left, there was a collective sigh of relief.



Should I have said something? Believe me you, people, Toni Ryan was oh so close from saying something. I don't know why I held back. It was so ridiculous.



I would understand if someone had made a mistake, but the simple truth of the matter was -- SHE WAS LATE! She could've called, she could've tried to come earlier, and well hey, she could've accepted that she was late, and politely accepted the consequence: NO SHOT FOR YOU!



But she tried to say that she had spoke to someone that had said her coming late was ok (they hadn't) and she only got there one minute late (it was three) and what was the big deal anyway (it was, they had already started shutting down).



And furthermore, have some respect for the rest of us! We bothered to get there before 7! It's not like 7:03P on a Thursday was the only time they gave out shots! There were many other opportunities available, it all just simply took a matter of planning - heck, anyone who gets shots does this at least once to twice a month for years... why the sudden amnesia?



On my way out, I gave the receptionist a little congratulatory pep talk for standing her ground and not losing her cool. I've been there behind a desk, facing off with irate people, I know it takes a lot out of you. She thanked me and pointed out that with all of us in the waiting room witnessing this, she couldn't start a precedence for letting late people slide, it wouldn't be fair to the rest of us.



She was right. And I had to agree with her, even though I don't consider her the nicest receptionist I ever encountered -- heck, twenty minutes prior to The Incident, she had tersely pointed out that I had an outstanding balance, and now suddenly we were BFF's.



And then this gem:



She said, "Well, to be honest with you.... if she had just been nice to begin with, I probably would've let it slide."









Hahahah, aaah karma.....

Algebra is the Most Important Subject Ever

No it isn't.

Go ahead, math teachers worldwide. Send your hate mail and your lists of "Ten Fun Things To Do With Quadratics" to tryan@wpst.com. Knock yourself out.

Was chatting with some of our summer interns, a group of bright college students, and it came up that one of them was taking Algebra. I confessed that I took Algebra in college three times. Basic Algebra. I didn't take it seriously the first time, not the second time, and not really the third time, just got lucky. And all it was was the basic algebra I had learned and aced back in my blue ribbon New Jersey public high school education.

And here's the thing about Algebra that everybody has pondered at one point or another. WHAT IS THE POINT OF HAVING LEARN THIS MUCH ALGEBRA?

(Keep your mouth shut if you are some brainiac rocket scientist who launched from algebra to algorithms... the rest of us just needed the algebra to get our diplomas.)

If I had bothered to place out of the Algebra placement test before I started college, I wouldn't have wasted all that student loan money standing in line at the registrars' nursing a hangover while trying to drop said Algebra class. And no, not even a thorough understanding of x+y would have pointed out the obvious: that the three credits of Algebra I was flushing down the toilet was literally money down the drain. I tended to ignore the losers who would periodically pop up with their impressive calculation of how much each class was costing you -- in dollars -- when you skipped.

So instead of realizing the cost of taking Algebra three times, and simply bothering to place out of it, the cost of getting it out of the way was somewhere between $1500-2000 all told. And it cost $0 for me to learn it in the first place. Sure is dumb math on my part.

And the WORST part... I'm REALLY good at Algebra! I actually liked it! (Thanks Chuck Schaub & Dottie Staats!) Well, actually, I liked it when it was easy. When everything balanced out nicely, and X always equalled a whole number consisting of two digits or less. That was my favorite era of Algebra. None of the hyperbola nonsense or the stuff that requires a graphing calculator.

Which brings me to the answer to the original question. I actually have an answer.

q: WHAT IS THE POINT OF LEARNING THIS MUCH ALGEBRA?

a: There are two reasons. Ya ready?

ONE: So you can answer a basic "If 2X+ Y = 17, then what is the value of Y" question, especially if you are in the throes of some television game show involving random knowledge.

TWO: So you can tutor someone else who is trying to get through Algebra themselves.

That's all. And just for learning your basic algebra to serve those two purposes, you will have proved your worth to all mankind.

Ergo, Algebra is the Most Important Subject Ever. Value of Y my butt.

A Worn-Out Divorcee should be the Next American Idol

Clearly Idol has a type. Not just for their crowned winner, but also in terms of the people who make it to the end, with very few exceptions.

Either a suburban chick with a set of pipes. (Kelly, Kat McPhee, Jordin, Melinda, Allie Iraheta )

... a mature possibly hot with a bit of gravitas and mysterious appeal (Daughtry, Bo Bice, David Cook, Michael Johns, Ace Young )

... a Disney-ready boyish boy (Justin Guarini, Clay Aiken, and of course Archuleta)

... pretty girls primed for country (Pickler, Underwood, Kristy Lee Cook)

... a sister with a voice that cuts straight through to the high heavens (Fantasia, Tamyra, Latoya, J. Hud)

... a guy with a clear style and incredible voice with no home in pop music (Ruben, Danny Gokey, Taylor Hicks, Blake)

SO, let's find somebody else.

How about ...

• A real good looking jerk-off guy who sings incredibly, but all the other contestants absolutely hate him. In fact, I want him to hook up with one of the other contestants (girl or boy), break up with them, and then hook up with someone else.


• An old-looking divorced gal who looks way too old but all paperwork says she's 25. She also sings with a lot of annoying vibrato.


• A Susan Boyle who undergoes a movie-like physical transformation during the show, and then as she gets prettier, her voice gets crappier.


• A macho looking guy who has a real pretty alto voice.


• A girl who sounds like she popped out of an animated Disney movie. i.e. Disney Voice.


• Someone who is already famous in some other arena, and we had absolutely no idea that they could sing like the Dickens. Maybe a champion ballroom dancer who also is an Olympic medalist? Or JON GOSSELIN??

Wouldn't that be so much more interesting that having an American Idol who "sounds just like Howie Day", or "could be the next Jason Mraz" ??

Because, we don't need another Howie Day or Jason Mraz. We already have one of each! Kris Allen, you were ok I guess, but frankly, you're just extra.

So, tell me what you think?? Don't we need a new kind of American Idol?

DWTS Season 9 Casting Call

So I haven't watched one lick of this entire season, and frankly I don't care. They're not stars. The ballroom "pro's" are now the celebs, and that is a problem for me. Since when did we look at professional ballroom dancers and say, "OH MY GOD! HE'S SO FAMOUS!"



Please. It's ballroom dancing for goshsakes.



Intern Steven and Intern Shanna are sitting here with me talking about when DWTS started going down the tubes, and it reminded me of how I think Dancing with the Stars should be aptly retitled "Dancing With People". Coz that's who they are, practically. Regular folk.



We decided to start a list of potential candidates who should be on Season 9, so that this show can live up to its title.

• Oprah. Duh.


• Jon Gosselin


• The Geico Gecko


• Michael Vick


• Jessica Biehl


• Sarah Palin


• Tina Fey

Ok, that's where I'm starting. Any more suggestions?

Why I Hated the DH Season Finale

I was completely 180 degrees from even slightly liking the season finale last night.

Seriously, have they run out good ideas? I will itemize my reasons why:

• The Dave Dash Williams story is played out. He wants to kill Mike. He wants to kill Katherine. He wants to kill Mrs. McCluskey. He wants to kill Susan. He wants to kill MJ. He kills his doctor and now he can't get pills. We feel bad for him bc he lost his wife and kid? Did he love Edie? Do we feel bad bc he lost two wives? Are we glad that he and his dead family are reunited in flashback hell? And if so, doesn't that mean that Edie's entire relationship with Dave was a wash, and so we don't feel bad for her? In theory, it was a good idea, but horribly done.
  


• Lynette Scavo!!! Have you learned nothing? All this scheming and manipulating and shooting from the hip! I was screaming at the TV from the moment she hears the answering machine message bc you can hear her mind going loud and clear, "I will screw over Tom's chance at happiness yet again!" For a SPLIT SECOND I felt bad for her when I thought her cancer was back, but then I thought... after EVERYTHING this woman has been through, could she not have learned to have any respect for her husband?! And pregnant AGAIN?! I don't think I can take any more of Lynette being the tired unhappy housewife. BOOOO!!!!
  


• Susan... oh please David Dash, take Susan Meyer with you. She doesn't deserve Mike. She's blown her chances many times and has broken too many hearts and hurt too many people's feelings with her wishy-washyness and bad timing. LET MIKE GO! Let him be happy for godssakes! Trust me, Katherine will not seem as nutty and annoying when you take Susan out of the equation. Just make her the new narrator already.
  


• The moment Carlos walked in after getting played by his Lolita-niece I was like, ugh, what is this?! A horrible sitcom from the 80's? Of course, Gabby is gonna look like the over-reacting, jealous woman. I was again screaming at the TV: "We hated this story line when it was Tom getting played by his evil daughter, and Lynette looking crazy!!! Don't do this to the Solis family! They've got their own problems.... like two little girls with an unusually high BMI!!!"
  


• Orson. Ugh. I have no energy left to touch this dumb storyline.

There was only one piece of redemption for the entire two hours of crap was BREE & CARL. OK, so I hate how everyone on this block has recycled other people's husbands, but I actually like this oil & water combo. It should be interesting to see Bree struggle with her attraction for the bad boy.

That might keep me amused for at least half a season.

If they had folded laundry for the entire two hours, I would've thought it was much more entertaining.

Never ever did I think I'd say this, but anybody up to see some Betty Applewhite and the creepy guy across the street again?

The Last Great Form of Creative Freedom

And here I was thinking that there was an undervalued segment of the condiment population. But rest assured, there is an Association for Dressings & Sauces.

I don't know how you achieve membership to such a club, or who gets to be president, but I only know it exists because I was looking for stats about salad.

A sampling of what I found?

• People who eat salads at least once a week consider themselves more trustworthy than those who never eat salads.



• Heavy salad eaters (five or more times a week) are less shy than those who eat salads less often.



• People who eat a salad as your main meal at lunch tend to think they are more intelligent than those who just eat a side salad at lunch.




• Midwesterners choose French dressing.



• Italian is the number one dressing choice, followed by Ranch and then Blue Cheese.



• Only 20 percent buy the prebagged salads.

There was more but it was boring. (Feel free to bore yourself.)


I was at the grocery yesterday with Hawaii Margarette yesterday, who flew in for some good ol' East Coast R'nR and a decent time warp session on Toni Ryan's couch with a monopoly on the flat screen.

Salad was in order for dinner, and a simple, "Want salad for dinner?" morphed into a laundry list of each of our own likes/dislikes about salad. Which was quite eye-opening.

I did not know that Shredded Carrots could be so hated in favor of Julienned Carrots (her).

Or that while generic "parmesan" was unacceptable on all other occasions, it was welcomed atop a bed of greens (her).

And make that Bib Lettuce, please (yes, also her).

Or that all forms of Salad Dressings could be eschewed as long as there was Extra Extra Virgin Olive Oil (me).

The point is, there is no right or wrong on salad. And I love that it will never be a matter that needs to be governed or regulated by a massive group of people who don't know me down in DC.

Frankly, I think salad is one of my favorite ways to clean out the fridge (more about my acceptable salad toppings a in a moment), and also I have a very loose interpretation of a salad. Anything goes. The lettuce? It's just along for the ride.

So here is my version of a decently awesome salad if I had to make it on my own (and since I am not married to this combination, I could change my mind about this in about two seconds)

- Straight up lettuce. Iceberg'll do.

- Chopped up sun-dried tomatoes

- Chopped olives

- Handful of pine nuts

- Scoop full of raisins

- Sprinkle of parmesan

- Couple shakes of olive oil

- A little garlic salt

- A little pepper

- A little dried basil

How about you?

I Got Your Number

I'm a 4. A conservative. Shocker.

Yeah, in fact, it's alarming how there are days where I really feel Margaret Thatcher-ish, and now I understand why. I'm getting rubber bracelets made up with the letters WWND. As in What Would Neil Do. As in Neil Diamond. Also a 4. Except my bracelets will be in an inoffensive color and made with non-controversial synthetics, because that's how we Conservatives roll. Thank God for the Birth Number for explaining it all.
Thanks to Rona M. via Facebook for sharing this one.

Your Birth Number

Your birth date describes who we are, what we are good at, and what our inborn abilities are. It also points to what we have to learn and the challenges we are facing.

A Birth Number does not prevent you from being anything you want to be; it will just color your choice differently and give you a little insight. To figure out your Birth Number, add all the numbers in the birth date together, like in the example, until there is only one digit.

Example:

March 20, 1950

3 + 20 + 1950 = 1973

1 + 9 + 7 + 3 = 20

2 + 0 = 2

Keep going until you end up with a single digit number. 2 is the Birth Number to read for the birth date in the example.

#1 THE ORIGINATOR
#2 THE PEACEMAKER
#3 THE LIFE OF THE PARTY
#4 THE CONSERVATIVE
#5 THE NONCONFORMIST
#6 THE ROMANTIC
#7 THE INTELLECTUAL
#8 THE BIG SHOT
#9 THE PERFORMER

# 1 - THE ORIGINATOR
1's are originals.
Coming up with new ideas and executing them is natural. Having things their own way is another trait that gets them as being stubborn and arrogant. 1's are extremely honest and do well tolerant some diplomacy skills. They like to take the initiative and are often leaders or bosses, as they like to be the best. Being self-employed is definitely helpful for them. Lesson to learn: Others’ ideas might be just as good or better and to stay open minded.
Famous 1's: Tom Hanks, Robert Redford, Hulk Hogan, Carol Burnett, Wynona Judd, Nancy Reagan, Raquel Welch.

#2 - THE PEACEMAKER
2's are the born diplomats.
They are aware of others needs and moods and often think of others before themselves. Naturally analytical and very intuitive, they don't like to be alone. Friendship and companionships very important and can lead them to be successful in life, but on the other hand, they'd rather be alone than in an uncomfortable relationship. Being naturally shy they should learn to boost their self-esteem and express themselves freely and seize the moment and not put things off.
Famous 2's: President Bill Clinton, Madonna, Whoopee Goldberg, Thomas Edison, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

# 3 - THE LIFE OF THE PARTY
3's are idealists.
They are very creative, social, charming, romantic, and easygoing. They start many things, but don't always see them through. They like others to be happy and go to great lengths to achieve it. They are very popular and idealistic. They should learn to see the world from a more realistic point of view. Famous 3's: Alan Alder, Ann Landers, Bill Cosby, Melanie Griffith, Salvador Dali, Jodi Foster.

# 4 - THE CONSERVATIVE
4's are sensible and traditional.
They like order and routine. They only act when they fully understand what they are expected to do. They like getting their hands dirty and working hard. They are attracted to the outdoors and feel an affinity with nature. They are prepared to wait and can be stubborn and persistent. They should learn to be more flexible and to be nice to themselves.
Famous 4's: Neil Diamond, Margaret Thatcher, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Tina Turner, Oprah Winfrey.

# 5 - THE NONCONFORMIST
5's are the explorers.
Their natural curiosity, risk taking, and enthusiasm often land them in hot water. They need diversity, and don’t like to be stuck in a rut. The whole world is their school and they sea learning possibility in every situation. The questions never stop. They are well advised to look before they take action and make sure they have all the facts before jumping to conclusions. Famous 5's: Abraham Lincoln, Charlotte Bronte, Jessica Walter, Vincent Van Gogh, Bette Midler, and Helen Keller.

# 6 - THE ROMANTIC
6's are idealistic and need to feel useful to be happy
A strong family connection is important to them. Their actions influence their decisions. They have a strong urge to take care of others and to help. They are very loyal and make great teachers. They like art or music. They make loyal friends who take the friendship seriously. 6's should learn to differentiate between what they can change and what they cannot.
Famous 6's: Albert Einstein, Jane Seymour, John Denver, Meryl Streep, Christopher Columbus, Goldie Hawn.

#7 - THE INTELLECTUAL
7 's are the searchers.
Always probing for hidden information, they find it difficult to accept things at face value. Emotions don't sway their decisions. Questioning everything in life, they don't like to be questioned themselves. They're never off to a fast start, and their motto is slow and steady wins the race. They come across as philosophers and being very knowledgeable, and sometimes as loners. They are technically inclined and make great researchers uncovering information. They like secrets. They live in their own world and should learn what inacceptable and what is not in the world at large.
Famous 7's: William Shakespeare, Lucille Ball, Michael Jackson, Joan Baez, Princess Diana.

# 8 - THE BIG SHOT
8's are the problem solvers.
They are professional, blunt and to the point, have good judgment and are decisive. They have grand plans antlike to live the good life. They take charge of people. They view people objectively. They let you know in no uncertain terms that they are the boss! They should learn to exude their decisions on their own needs rather than on what others want. Famous 8's: Edgar Cayce, Barbara Streisand, George Harrison, Jane Fonda, Pablo Picasso, Aretha Franklin, Nostradamus.

#9 - THE PERFORMER
9's are natural entertainers.
They are very caring and generous, giving away their last dollar to help. With their charm, they have no problem making friends and nobody is a stranger to them. They have so many different personalities that people around them have a hard time understanding them. They are like chameleons, ever changing and blending in. They have tremendous luck, but also can suffer from extremes in fortune and mood. To be successful, they need to build a loving foundation.
Famous 9's: Shirley McLane, Harrison Ford, Jimmy Carter, Elvis Presley.

Miley! Elvis! Time for dinner!!!

Thank God for the Social Security Administration, right?

I mean, not only can we thank them for providing the most important (and occasionally damning) nine digit combination you will ever need to know, and for providing that neat little annual newsletter of your income history, we can now also thank them for this: Helping me envision the future of my unborn children.


Apparently someone in their office has managed to create some job security over there despite some extra time on their hands, 'coz someone over at the SSA sits there tabulating Most Popular Baby Names. Nice job. I'm a whiz at the sort function in Excel too.

See, when we know the Emma's of the world will be outnumbered by the Emily's, and that the name Jacob will always have to be followed by an initial or last name for clarity, I can already picture what it's gonna be like someday when I finally get around to spawning.

"Mummy! Mummy!" (I have to allow for the possibility I will marry an English aristocrat.)
"What, my honey bunches of oats?"
"May I please have a play date with Jacob?"
"Jacob who?"
"Jacob S."
"Jacob Smith? or Jacob Smythe?"
"Jacob Smith"
"Jacob Lee Smith, or Jacob Michael Smith? Or Jacob Smith-Johnson?"
"Jacob Smith, the one who lives in town."
"OK, then, which town?"

Yes, Jacob still the #1 boys' name. Wonder if that's gonna change if Jacob on Lost turns out to be some disgusting creepy pedophile guy. It's funny how pop culture can have a profound (adverse) affect on name popularity.

"I heard Jen's son is dating Scott's daughter."
"What??? Beckham & Miley are a couple??"

Yes, both on the list. And isn't Miley like a made up name? I think I read that Billy Ray, in all his achey-breaky goodness had a baby daughter named Destiny that they nicknamed "Smiley". And somehow that morphed into "Miley". And then she grew up, kinda became a big deal, and decided to keep the name for real. She had it officially changed. And now my sensible buddy Scott just might name his next kid after freaking Hannah Montana. How am I supposed to take this stuff seriously???

"Honey, what's wrong?"
"I hate soccer."
"What happened?"
"Jacob was mean to me."
"Which Jacob?"
"And then Jacob didn't pick me for his team, and I thought he was my best friend! I almost got picked last, but finally Jacob picked me for his team instead, so Jacob is now my new best friend."
"See! You weren't picked last then."
"Yeah, it was Beckham, again. That kid's a loser. He sucks at soccer."
"Um, we don't talk like that in this house, Elvis. Well, get washed up while I call everyone down for dinner... Hannah! Aaden! Colin! Leah! Alexis! Joel! Dinner! Hey, Rihanna, get House & Grey's inside. And quit hitting your brother."

Hey, after catching the movie "Baby Mama" this weekend and not finding it funny that the name Stefani (as in Gwen Stefani) being used as a punchline, I know now that anything is possible. I hope Facebook & Twitter make it on next year's list. Or Lady. Or Gaga. I'd love both together, but I've gotta be realistic here.

But Elvis? And the worst part is... I don't think people who picked the name Elvis did it in homage to The King. I think they were all honoring The Costello.

So do me a favor. To make things easier and less confusing. Middle Names.

And pick 'em so they make sense. Like "Homer The Philosopher Brown". Or "Miley Yes-As-In-Cyrus Patterson". Or "Bella My-mom-liked-the-name-not-Twilight Burton"

I am certain by doing that you will ensure a future where children are no longer made fun of because of their wacky first names.

I guarantee it.

From the Archives: "Surprise! It's a bike race!"

Already been a year and this subject still manages to irritate me. I only happened to think about this recently because I realized I've been holding my breath when I'm in the car running errands on a Saturday morning. Like I'm expecting to get totally screwed over one of these days.



Surprise! It's a bike race!

I'll do my best to not dwell too much on this subject, bc honestly I'm still a little p.o.'d even though I know I need to move on.

This past Sat was this bike race in Rocky Hill that pretty much ties up a stretch of 518 and surrounding roads. 2nd year in a row. And 2nd year in a row that I don't think people were adequately informed this thing was going down. As if people won't need to use these roads because it's in the middle of the sticks, and it's a Saturday morning. Au contraire, folks.

Last year, got trapped in the boonies with my internal GPS trying to figure out my own detour. No signage, just closed roads everywhere I turned. If I was just a smidge less stubborn, I would've just turned around and went home. But I was determined (and by then, a half hour late to my appointment) when I finally saw the pack of cyclists and figured it all out for myself.

This year, BY ACCIDENT, I happened to come across a packet looking for sponsors for this event. Not a press release, a solicitation. And this year, I happened to drive down one of the roads in question earlier in the week, and those electronic billboard was set up flashing the info. Knowing I'd have to drive through this stretch, I gave myself an extra fifteen minutes to go the long way around this whole thing, and still arrived late. Boy was I steaming mad.

WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT YOUR RACE. Because it's good to generate road rage and make people late to their appointments.

OK, I'm done. The End.

It's never the butler

I love a good whodunit.

Always have, since I was a kid. I used to love watching Scooby Doo, reading Encyclopedia Brown, and even Agatha Christie movies (when I understood what those stuffy old British people were saying). I even -- occasionally, and with mild disdain -- could tolerate an episode or two of Murder, She Wrote. (I was tricked into it thinking Angela Lansbury would be channeling her Miss Marple in the role, but no such luck). Clue was my first favorite boardgame, and Clue: The Movie made its way into my personal Top Ten. It's probably also why I loved the puzzles within every episode of House and the mystery surrounding Lost.

So, it's no surprise that I quickly bought into this whole Harper's Island show on CBS. It's like a mini-series, I guess, and it already has a definite end date. On July 2, the show will end, done. No more stretching out the mystery for five seasons, introducing new stories, flashing forward, silly tribute episodes, dream sequence episodes, just a straight up story with a beginning, middle, and an end. And a fun little interactive website that enhances viewing (but isn't required reading). And the payoff? We find out just exactly whodunit. It reminds me of Twin Peaks, but better: less weird, and none of this ridiculous paranormal nonsense. The moment they explained just exactly who/what killed Laura Palmer, they should've really just rolled the credits and called it a day.

So therefore, I am on board. 100%. If there is definitely an end, then I am in. Really easy to get into, plus a lot of familiar faces like this skinny dude from Ugly Betty, or Susan's ex hubby Carl from Desperate Housewives, and even Harry Hamlin of LA Law/DWTS/Clash of the Titans fame. It was on Thursday nights, but now it's on Saturday nights, but honestly I really don't care when it's on. It just pops up in my TiVo, and I can also find all the episodes On Demand. I watch when I feel like it, and can be drawn into the mystery for 40 minutes at a clip, without feeling like I am making a huge personal sacrifice. Perfect show for those of us with commitment issues. And a nice diversion for those of us with our TV plate already overfloweth.



I'm not sure yet who I think it is, but it definitely isn't the meddling ex-boyfriend, or the weird goth girl. (Sorry if I ruined the surprise of who some of the victims will be.) But it'll be nice for a change not obsessing about whether it's the Smoke Monster. Or Orson Hodge. And then never getting a clear answer.


Maybe a new wave of no-nonsense terminal TV shows is on the horizon? I'd love that. But even better than a show with an end-date? A show with an obvious goal.


Case in point: How I Met Your Mother. Yeah, I know. The second he meets her, that show is history.

From the Archives: "Why I BCC"

Yes, dipping into the archives again. At least I'm consistent, because I still feel exactly the same on this matter. The same as I did three months ago. The same as I have for the last five years.

REPLY ALL IS EVIL.

I bring it up because I now have all my personal email directed to my Blackberry. And I am currently involved in a well-meant reply-all thread, and being signalled everytime a complete stranger has something they wanted everyone else to know. And unfortunately for me, my Blackberry has an automatic lock. So everytime a complete stranger has something they wanted everyone else to know - not only am I now privy to it, I am also having to go through the steps of unlocking my phone and logging in to discover it's got nothing to do with me.

So, go ahead. Knock yourself out trying to convince me again that I am a lesser person for using BCC.

I love watching other people get exasperated when they think it's their life's mission to make me change my mind over dumb things. It's almost amusing. But I'll save that for another post....


Why I BCC
An interesting debate comes up every now and again... a controversial debate that I unwittingly spark when I send out innocent little emails to a random group of people.

Today, needed to send an all-important missives to my colleagues about an upcoming event that I wanted to inform some people about. It was a message that I wanted to be short & sweet, and didn't require action other than showing up. Responding was optional.


So, I used BCC. The Blind Carbon Copy.

If you don't know what it is, it's the option in an email where instead of typing an address in the TO field... or the CC field... you type it in the BCC field.... and no name(s) show up in the received email.


Useful tool for listservs, solicitations, and (in my case) for discouraging rampant flooding of REPLY-ALL responses.


Because I have been on the receiving end of Reply-All. Both intended replies meant for the entire world to see, and accidental replies to all. Those second kind can be fun. And by fun, I mean both laugh-out-loud funny, and also painfully scathing and instantly regretted.

I learned my lesson long ago when I sent out some pithy joke that had a political leaning, to which my dad -- a man so conservative, he makes Rush Limbaugh look like a feminazi --thought it would be great to reply-all and share his markedly right-wing opinions for all the world to see.

Well, he pissed off my co-worker.

Apparently a cyber-pissing match further ensued outside the realms of the reply-all. It was a digital version of saying, "Wanna take this outside?" And I guess they did, because I didn't even know it was going on, until one day my dad said to me, "That guy you work with? He's a jerkoff."

Oooooof.



From that day on, I made a vow to never reply-all unless I personally knew every recipient, and unless what I had to say was relevant to all involved. I also take the time to delete individual names off the reply-all if I don't know the person.

[I also re-read through emails I'm forwarding to other people. Nothing worse than unintentionally passing on comments that were meant for your eyes only. A lot of legendary hate sprees have been borne from me seeing comments about me when I scrolled further down in the email.]

Thus, I make active use of the BCC option. It prevents the accidental reply-all by others.

It also has enabled me to diplomatically handle group invitations when there's someone I don't really want to involve. See, girls can be prone to friend-envy. When I send an email forward to the "ten of your favorite girlfriends who need a good laugh today", I always use BCC.

Because I have actually received replies from my less mature girlfriends with comments like, "Yeah, I saw you also sent that to Missy. I didn't know you were still friends with that bitch."

(Fortunately for Missy, that was not a reply-all mishap.)

I also have lots of friends in a variety of circles. Family. Friends. College friends. High school friends. Drinking buddies. Former co-worker friends. Current co-worker friends. Co-workers, non-friends. Strictly-business friends. "Friends". Never the twain should any of them meet! Too many worlds colliding -- it'd NOT be a smooth mix if the potty-mouth Current Co-worker friends have something to say that might be TMI for the Drunking Buddies. Family and Co-workers non-friends, also not a very good mix. (See story above) I have also used reply-all to "pretend" I have issued invitations to "everyone"... it's never as obvious to see who I omitted when you can't see anyone.

Reply-all has also been a clever device when you are trying to seem all chill, low-key, and casual to a one person that you are emailing. You send out that casual invite for drinks to a group of friends.... but in the BCC you only type one name. That person doesn't have to know they're your intended target!!!!! Or, sending out a serious email to your colleagues about a particular complaint? Except in the BCC you only have type that one offending loser's name!!! They'll never know!

Aaah.... the many merits of the BCC. I love you, BCC. If I could marry you and all your stealth ways, I would. Mrs. Toni Ryan BCC.



Which brings me to today.


From: Toni Ryan
Sent: Tue, February 10, 2009 2:26 PM
To:



Subject: happy hour? tomorrow? 5:30p?

That's where I'll be! ... As will a combination of random others. Intrigued? Then, come by! I'll buy your first drink!

p.s. I didn't send this invite to the whole planet because I am either a) selective, b) lazy, c) both. Please keep that in mind before forwarding.


And then I got this reply:


From: Frank Coworker
Sent: Tue 2/10/2009 2:33 PM
To: Toni Ryan

Subject: RE: happy hour? tomorrow? 5:30p?

Well, if you weren’t gaaaaaaay and BBC-ing people, I wouldn’t have to worry about forwarding, because I’d know exactly who it went to already….



LOL! Hahaha that's a really good point.



As usual, I was only thinking of avoiding the usual comment I get back about, "You didn't invite me to happy hour." Hey, I don't own happy hour. It's an institution. I just said that I was gonna be at happy hour with other people, and if you happen to show up, great. I don't want to be responsible for whether or not a person feels "invited" or not. Too much pressure.


Thus the BCC.


For curiosity's sake, I posted this question on Facebook: "Which is worse, BCC or Reply-All?" and have already elicited a number of fiery, thoughtful responses.


All just opinions. But I'm still going to BCC to my heart's content.




Although....



Maybe... just maybe. Maybe all of this was just an elaborate ruse that I concocted?



From: Toni Ryan
Sent: Tue, February 10, 2009 2:26 PM
To:


BCC: Frank Coworker

Subject: happy hour? tomorrow? 5:30p?



I guess he'll never know....


--- fin -----

Well that was stupid

8AM at Starbucks is not the same as 8AM at Dunkin.

And here I was thinking I was early!
Sent from mobile
CC: tryan@wpst.com

Anyone own a blue pickup truck?

Yeah you do?

Try and dig back in your memory to Friday afternoon. Were you on Route 1 South around 5:30 PM, exiting at Quakerbridge Road?

Here, I'll help you refresh your memory. You were screaming your head off at the cars in front of you, beeping your horn maniacally, and flipping everyone off.

Yes, I know it was you, because I was in the car in front you. The car that wouldn't let you pass BECAUSE THERE WASN'T A SHOULDER TO PULL OVER INTO AND BECAUSE TRAFFIC WAS AT A STANDSTILL IT WASN'T LIKE YOU WERE GETTING ANYWHERE EITHER YOU BLANKETY BLANK BLANK BLANK.

And because I couldn't pull over and go anywhere, I had to endure you behind me like a BLANKING mad man, yelling and screaming at me so loudly, I could actually HEAR you through the closed window.

You remember now?

I'm just writing to thank you for driving so far up my rear end... because it was too close for me to get your plate number. And then when you had enough room in the shoulder to pass me, slow down to YELL at me even more, then speed down the shoulder to your exit... yeah, never did get that plate number. You clever thing. Well, aside from being clearly demented, and a complete danger.

Well, if that was you, hope you got to wherever you were rushing off to. And now I've seen you in action, I can safely state that I most certainly don't have road rage.

Thank you for setting me straight, I can stop beating myself up over thinking I had a problem.

Vending Machine Asphyxiation

The vending machine in our building is evil.

Aside from having a generally disappointing assortment of overpriced goodies, it occasionally likes to steal our money without warning. Total bully.

From across the building, and even within these soundproof walls, I will occasionally feel the low, seismic-like rumble of someone angrily hurdling their entire bodily weight against the snack machine; I think I can even tell when they've had a running start. Hours later, a bag of French Onion Sun Chips will still be lazily dangling from A4, kinda like a teasing sign saying, "Hah... You got owned. See this baggy of Sun Chips, you sissy? I got your seventy-five cents... seven times over, you loser. And I'm never giving you these Sun Chips. Go ahead. Keep throwing yourself at me. Go ahead, you just try and lift me, girlfriend."

Then there are the hand-written manifestos of anger. Sometimes typed-up letters, as if anonymity will keep the anger of the vending machine Gods at bay.


"The machine owes me 2.55."


"The Twix bar that's hanging is mine."


"If someone gets the Pretzl Niblets, I want the BBQ chips behind it"


"FYI the machine takes fives and tens, doesn't take ones or loose change, and only gives change back in nickels."

etc.



This week, the note says, "You can't get anything from Row B".
Well that's nice to know. Then, why are the items in Row B even there? Decoration?

I only ever get the Party Mix.

Party Mix!!!! WHOO!!!! YEAH PARTY! YEAH MIX!!
It's not a party without the MIX! WORD!
Party Mix! WHOOOOOOOO!

It's fifty-five cents, and it's a nice sampler of Cheetos-like thingys, Doritos-ish chips, pretzel sticks, and is fairly dense. I think it's a pretty good bang for your buck.


Fortunately for me, Party Mix is on Row C.

Today, starving. Slide a buck in without issue, punch in my C2. Nada. C2 again. Dollar spits out. Slide dollar in, but it won't take. Hit reset eleven times. Slide dollar in again, and hit C.... then 2....

AND THEN I HOLD MY BREATH.





I hear churning.





I hear bubbling.





I see the metal spiral thingy begin to rotate.





Party Mix starts to trudge forward.





It is barely to the edge when I see spiral movement STOP.










.... and then it is just a moment.

ALL TIME STOPS.


Silence.




... and then the bag begins to gently lean forward...





C'MON C'MON C'MON.... FALL!!!!!!!!!!








It awkwardly leans forward, and when the last corner of the bag begins to slide past the metal spiral thingy, it stalls, and the corner catches on the metal.








And that's when I realize: I am holding my breath.








WTF. Seriously. It's a $0.55 bag of generic snack leftovers.







I start to exhale some disappointment when the bag continues to descend and I hear that vague crunch as it hits the bottom of the vending machine window.





TRIUMPH. Thank God.








The majestic orchestral sounds play in my head, and sounds of cheering and smile proudly as I walk through the halls carrying my prize with my orange fingers.





Seriously, this is totally ridiculous. That I go through this vignette of dramatic excitement EVERY TIME I USE THE VENDING MACHINE. If I had a nickel for every time I have held my breath in apprehension using that damned machine, I'd be rich.





Well, no I wouldn't.





But I'd sure have enough change to attempt to a make a six-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper bottles. But man, I don't think I'm up to the task.

Staycation, all I ever wanted

It was so supposed to be an elaborate weekend.

Old friends yucking it up, overeating, overdrinking, etc etc.

And then there were work schedules and bad news and bad luck and pretty soon Operation Weekend Getaway was quickly aborted.

Enter Chris Rollins and the Staycation. She mentioned it to me on air last week. And while I doubt when she said it she had my intention of reckless spending in mind, it completely salvaged this wknd. And is turning out to exceed my expectations.

One word: ForrestalVillage. Ok so technically two words. Found an awesome online deal for the Westin which included breakfast. $139/nt. For two Heavenly beds!

Next, booked a massage and facial at Koi. Had this incredible facial (totally needed it) and massage. Now... I did not know the existence of the mysterious Relaxation Room located within the dimly lit confines of the Koi Spa compound. It's like appparently this Den of Zen.

More dim lighting, comfy seating, space-agey chillout music, and free bagels and Hershey's kisses. Hello! Drank way too much tea and had to use the equally chill and dimly lit Koi Spa Restroom. Almost fell asleep in there one of the fifteen times I had to "powder my nose". Oh, and of course The Relaxation Room has one major focal point (aside from the free grub) - the massive aquarium. LOL Yes, koi, no less.

The purpose of The Relaxation Room... a place to zone out in between services. Unfortunately for everyone else in The Relaxation Room... Toni Ryan. They arrived in this dimly lit quiet room and saw an opportunity to zone out; I arrived in this room and thought, yay! Comfy couches! Cosmo! Tea! Audience! Um, yeah, a good facial doesn't chill me out, it makes me hip-hip-hooray-happy! Oh, and by the way, apparently when you use the spa, you've also got access to the hot tub, pool, steam room, sauna, (oh, and the gym) at Cando. Took a twenty minute shower, and overswabbed my ears just coz there were a ton of qtips.

We did Tre Bar for tapas and red wine, then moved upstairs for dessert --- for this ridiculous chocolate lava thingy in phyllo dough. Opened up that pastry and bam! Oozing warm chocolate. As if all that isn't enough: world's awesome maitre'd, and yes, I mean the fabulous Giancarlo. You will know who I mean if you ever go to Tre Piani. It's like you've walked in to his palacial Italian palazzo where incredible food is served, and he is your best friend. If you haven't been, you must go, even if only to experience Giancarlo. He rocks.

OK, so I've discovered the benefit of putting yourself up for a night at a nice hotel: free shuttle. LOL. Our self-directed Nassau Street Pub Crawl, made better knowing I wouldn't have to sober up before going home.

So, I can barely remember everything in between that and the next morning, but the last bits of the Staycation were salvaged by this nice little hotel amenity (yes, even more than the adjustable power shower heads and the 8 million thread count sheets)... the in-room STARBUCKS coffee.

Thank God. A little too much celebrating over the free shuttle bus threatened to ruin the wknd.

But there it is -- my first Staycation... stayed local, had an awesome time rediscovering services that are just around the corner, and feel relaxed and completely chilled out.

Special thanks to Jim at the Westin, Christine The Facialist, Donna the Masseuse, and Giancarlo, world's awesomest Maitre'd. But most of all, thanks to CRollins for the idea. Cheers to you!

Now, someone get me a drink!

Sent from mobile
CC: tryan@wpst.com

From the Archives: "Am I a 'Cougar'?" ... PLUS Exclusive Follow-Up

Toni Ryan Says... Archive Exclusive

Am I a "Cougar"?

UrbanDictionary supplied several bluntly appalling yet informative definitions:

... A 35+ year old female who is on the "hunt" for a much younger, energetic, willing-to-do-anything male. The cougar can frequently be seen in a padded bra, cleavage exposed, propped up against a swanky bar ... waiting, watching, calculating; gearing up to sink her claws into an innocent young and strapping buck who happens to cross her path. 'Man is cougar's number one prey' ..."

... An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity -- particularly the true hotties -- as young men find not only a sexual high, but many times a chick with her sh-t together..."

... An attractive woman in her 30's or 40's who is on the hunt once again. She may be found in the usual hunting grounds: nightclubs, bars, beaches, etc. She will not play the usual B.S. games that women in their early twenties participate in. End state, she will be going for the kill, just like you. ...

HMM!!! Quite interesting! I kinda actually like the sound of that!

Well despite being blatantly told by Newman & Wade that I am "too young" to be a Cougar,I'm toying with the idea of joining this segment of the dating pool. If the men my age insist on acting like 22 year-old frat boys in some pre-midlife-crisis-delusion, then why shouldn't I just go ahead and find myself an authentic 22 year-old frat boy, who will probably act like a 34 year-old in his effort to impress his new "lady friend"??


Hahahahahah. Me. A "lady friend". HAHAHAHAHAHA.

That notion cracks me up. I am so not a "lady". "Friend", maybe. "Lady", absolutely not. And at the rate it's going, I probably sound like a "predator", too.

I'm tired of the middle of the night texting, the mind games, and the "I tried to say hi but you ignored me" nonsense. (And you're right, I was ignoring you, because you insist on texting me instead of calling me and having a conversation. Or worse, actually coming up to me in a public place and owning up to the fact that we've been seeing each other. But I digress.)

Truth is, I'm not tired of it if you are actually a year or two out of college, living out of Yaffa blocks and sleeping on your fancy 2nd generation Ikea futon. I'm okay with it if you love drinking at the Ivy because of the $2 beer, and if you call yourself a cigar aficionado because you carry Swisher Sweets. Because if your driver's license proclaims a year that I actually remember living through, or a time when shoulder pads and Wham! were the culture-du-jour, then I might be your girl. Er, uh, I mean, lady.

I crossed thirty a couple years ago, and I kinda don't love it. I've been going to baby showers for girls whose diapers I used to change, I'm getting ousted from "couples dinners", and I have no shame in sleeping through an entire day, maybe getting up once or twice to go to the bathroom and have a little Facebook time.

I'm kinda not ready to Be An Adult. And frankly, I am 0% ashamed of it.

It's just an issue when I try to connect with like-minded individuals, i.e. guys my age in a similar life situation. I mean, you guys that remain single and left planning the tame bachelor parties for your buddies, striking out with the pretty blonde at the bar who thinks you're "middle-aged", and sleeping on your fancy brand-new Ikea futon. You'd think that we'd be an automatic, obvious perfect combination. Not so much. I'm discovering you're the kind of guy I don't want my new young paramour to turn into.

So this is my mission: it is my job to prevent you young boys with a taste for "older women" to not become the slacker thirty-something guy of the future. Text me all you want at 2AM. Send me naughty messages that will make me blush when I read them in the cold light of the coffee line at 7AM. Say wildly inappropriate things to me when we're out in public. Go ahead, tell all your friends, even after you swear you'll never "kiss 'n tell".

'Coz it's okay. Really, it's okay with me. Because you're young, so I'm giving you a free pass. Plus, you need to get it out of your system so you're not pulling this crap after you yourself cross thirty.

Because when you boys pass thirty, you'll be mature enough to land a hot broad in her forties.

That might be me, too. :)

-- fin --

The Follow-Up

Fast forward to yesterday. Sitting in The Relaxation Room at Koi (more on that later), I caught up with my old friend, Cosmo magazine. We casually entertained each other, while Cos filled me in on the latest goings-on in the world of the Modern Single "It" Girl (or reasonable facsimiles thereof, wannabes such as myself.) Apparently, I truly am not a Cougar, since I'm too young to pull off the moniker. According to the Cos, I am a PUMA. Yes, as in the sneaker, but not related at all to footwear.

Immediately went to consult with my Undercover Operative On Such Matters Related To Cougar Activity. He is my recently appointed liasion to potentially cougar-like behavior, and is the only opinion I will consider on this stealthy topic. Don't ask me how he got this job.

So I just picked up this month's Cosmo. Pumas are on the rise:
women in their 30s preying on younger men. I guess that makes me a
puma...?

Several hours passed while he carefully considered my query, and after a sufficient period of time (way past my bedtime, but showtime in the Time Zone for the Young) he texted me back with the official declaration:

Haha, guess so.

So there it is, folks. I've consulted with the experts. Examined my motives, inspected my behavior, and have therefore accepted that I am a Puma. And it sure is a heck more interesting than wasting any more time on the men my age.

THANKS FOR THE PARKING TICKET, PRINCETON BORO

Yeah, that was a really nice touch.

It was nice stepping out of that funeral service to feed the meter, and see you'd been so darn efficient yet again.

See, when I parked the car NEXT TO THE CHURCH at 9:30AM and overfed the meter.... the meter that wouldn't accept more than two hours worth of change ... a mistake I realized a dollar later... I didn't not imagine that I would come out and find that you had issued me a $33 parking ticket at... wait for it: 11:38AM.

YOU PEOPLE ARE AMAZING! EIGHT MINUTES! Wow, there is no mercy! Thank you for having none.

And yes, that's me, still driving the awesome Pontiac Vibe thanks to Coleman Auto. Yes, the car with the dealer tags and the sticker so you guys know it's me driving the Vibe! Love the Vibe!

Sorry, Vibe. Sorry I left you on the mean streets of Princeton Boro where merciless ticket writers are awaiting to attack. I'm sorry.