Day 183: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... You'd See Gorgeous Models - Stretchmarks And All

No. Sorry. It is not every girl's dream to walk the runway of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. Contrary to what one of the models said in her interview between sections of the fashion show, it has never been my dream to starve myself so I be a size negative four and walk in underwear down a runway. 

Yeah, I have more lofty goals.

But I still couldn't help but admire the bangin' bodies of the models in the show. And their skin looked absolutely flawless, which is something I have to admit I envy, having had problem skin all my life.

The only thing that was more amazing than the models to me was the makeup.

So one of my cousins whom I'm closest to is a graphic designer. She has a bunch of friends in the graphic design department at Limited Brands - aka the company that owns Victoria's Secret. So she's seen the models' unedited, un-airbrushed film, and hung out with some of them in person. Score.

Is it wrong that I was happy to hear that all the models who've had babies have noticeable stretchmarks? Or that one of the famous blondes has horrible acne?


But had she not told me this, I would continue thinking that there are just women out there with perfect skin and perfect bodies.


Therefore so this falsehood does not continue, in Lichtenstein, models and advertisements are gong to depict real women. Sure, they can wear makeup, but there will be no airbrushing allowed in any magazine in my country. Women already feel bad enough about themselves for not being tall enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, etc. The last thing we need is a false sense of perfection. 


Because according to my cousin, what we see is an absolute false sense of what these women look like. Graphics designers are magicians. If they weren't so good at their jobs, we'd know that even models are not immune to stretchmarks.

Day 182: What Did Batman Say to Robin...

Holy book tour Batman!

They're making a trilogy book series of your life. What are the titles, who would write it and why?

Since this is not a memoir nor am I (God willing) near the end of my life, I am thinking about giving a book to the three most significant periods of my life. This is precisely why this would be an interesting question to ask someone once every five to 10 years, because the answers would most likely change immensely (I know mine would had you asked me this five years ago).


Therefore, my three book titles would be:


Lambertville Snowglobe
small-town girl In New York City

A Chicago Education


Book one would be about my life growing up in the sheltered snowglobe of the tiny village of Lambertville, Michigan.


Book two would be about my crazy, unpredictable, amazing four years living among 8 million people on the island of Manhattan.


Book three would be about what I've learned about life and the world we live in now that I'm on the cusp of my 30s.

And all three books would be written by Jeanette Walls, author of one of my all-time favorite books - The Glass Castle. She can paint a picture in one sentence and breathe life into the most mundane. She would be the one to give my sometimes hilarious sometimes crazy sometimes monotonous life a life of its own.

Day 181: Never Have I Ever... Done Anything to Earn the Nickname Red. Until Now.

I finally did something I've been wanting to do literally for more than a decade. And it seems silly that I've went this long without doing it because it's something so simple to do.

I've always wanted to have auburn-colored hair - really dark brown hair that turns red in a particular light. So I went to the hair salon when my sister was working and she dyed it "lipstick red." So to honor its name, I put on some red lipstick to match.

And I kind of love it.


Never have I ever been a redhead, but might keep it this way for awhile.

Day 180: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Giving Thanks

The Lanturne is a five-line verse shaped like a Japanese lantern with a syllabic pattern of one, two, three, four, one.

I was able to go home for Thanksgiving this year and, as always, just enjoyed 

spending time with my family while eating too much delicious food.

Food

shared while

giving thanks

with family.

Bliss.

Day 179: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... On Floating Without A Care in the World

Just floating along without a care in the world...

Last week's cliche: Poor as a church mouse

Day 178: Stop. Focus. Click... On Home Away From Home

Even though I live four hours from where I grew up, downtown Chicago still gives me little reminders of home. Loving it.

 

Day 177: Remember the Time... There's No Place Like Home

Driving past Chicago from Arlington Heights on the way back to Toledo was nothing short of a nightmare. The drive that typically takes me about a half an hour took a half and hour... plus two hours. This was after my stress level skyrocketed trying to meet several deadlines that converged on the unfortunate day before a holiday, and I remained on a conference call while on the train, in the bathroom on the train, and while giving directions in the car.

And of course once we got to Indiana, it was smooth sailing on the turnpike. And I didn't need any signs to tell me when we got into Ohio because the landscape opened up and everything just was brown - the muddy land, the bare trees, and the dark sky past the orange-y streetlights.


But of course, as always, it was worth it. A roaring fire was waiting for me, and my seat right smack in front of it was warm and waiting near a buffet of snacks I only eat when I'm home - trail baloney with cheddar cheese and homemade salsa and chips.


Remember the time that there's no place like home? Living away from home for the past five years has taught me this, and for that I'm thankful. But not as thankful as I am for my family.

There's nothing I'm more thankful for than my family.

Day 176: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... The Five Second Rule Would Be In Effect For Words as Well as Food On The Floor

People sometimes say things they don't mean. I'm guilty of this. My mouth just sometimes functions a few seconds ahead of my brain to the point where I immediately regret what just came out of it.


And of course once it's said it's hard-pressed or nearly impossible for the person you've said it to to forget or forgive it.


Not in Lichtenstein. In Lichtenstein, the five second rule exists for more than just really great food or candy that's fallen on the floor (as long as it's not "wet" food like yogurt or pepperoni and as long as it hasn't fallen on a well-trodden place like the subway or anywhere in New York City).


In Lichtenstein, the "rewind" rule will be honored. After saying something you just wish you could take back, you have five seconds to say "wait...rewind!" and then take back what you wish you hadn't said and replace it with what you meant.


Therefore, after saying "I totally agree with you honey" after semi-listening to your wife or girlfriend saying she feels fat in her skinny jeans, you're allowed to say "rewind" and compliment her - especially after seeing the look on her face.


The "rewind" rule will be respected everywhere in Lichtenstein. And will probably save many relationships.

Day 175: What Did Batman Say To Robin... About Why Don't I Have Cell Service?

Holy get two rocks to rub together to make fire Batman!

If you were stranded on a deserted island with your best friend, how far is too far for survival?

This question obviously depends on many factors: How long we've been stranded, how much food is available, whether we're in any imminent danger, and how much this friend has to bring to the table.

Sarah would have a lot to bring to the table when it comes to fun and entertainment. When we were roommates for a summer together, I just loved hanging out at home with her because we just totally mesh, she's hilarious, and we would always find random fun things to do. (See the photo of us after we randomly came across a local festival, made tie-dyed T-shirts, and painted each other's faces.) Entertainment - check.

Now obviously a girl's got needs. And by needs I mean the need to eat. Sarah is not so much the stealthy person, so I'm not so sure hunting would be her thing. But I can totally see her building up my confidence and telling me that of course my handmade weapons would work to catch us food. I do watch Man V. Wild with Bear Grylls and Duel Survival, after all.

"Yes, Erika, you could totally stun the fish in the water using a large stick as a club." 

"Sure, Erika. Of course your leaf noose will snag some sort of jungle lizard."

And it's the eating part that would be the biggest obstacle for me. I think I'd be able to handle all the medical stuff that would arise from no access to doctors or antibiotics, the jungle critters that we'd come across, and the challenges like climbing trees, making fire, or hiking up hills because that kind of stuff doesn't scare me or gross me out. And Sarah's the same way.

But for me, eating weird foods freaks me out. I've always said that I think I'd do well on Fear Factor if the eating challenge wasn't a part of it. Sure, I might be able to choke down non-squishy bugs or some cooked meat, but anything I'd have to eat raw would probably be a problem. Or anything that would be cannibalism would also not be OK.

This is where Sarah would be a complete asset. No, not for a food source because she's really tall and lanky. But she'd be the one to encourage me to eat all the weird foods, and wouldn't be freaked out to do it herself.

So maybe I wouldn't be the best person to survive on a deserted island. But if I were with Sarah, I think we'd survive. Even if it were just for a little while. At least it'd be fun.

Day 174: Never Have I Ever... Loved a Poster of Bernie Madoff

So there's this mystery woman at work who's constantly leaving random items on the counter in the vanity area in the one and only women's restroom at work. They range from the useless magnets from a real estate's office to the gross open tubes of, uh, "lady cream."

But regardless of the item, it always seems to disappear at some point during the day. Whether it's someone taking it or HR confiscating it or the cleaning crew throwing it away, we don't know.

So a few of us girls at work decided to have a contest to see who could find the most ridiculous and useless item to put in the bathroom and then see how long it would take for someone to snatch it up.

The items the other girls put in there include a luxury magazine for CEOs and a country music CD. However, I must say that it was my item that garnered the best story.

It started with a dream. A sex dream. Of me... and Bernie Madoff. Where in the hell this dream came from I have no idea.

And I made the mistake of telling my work spouse about this dream because I thought it was funny. Plus I was returning the favor because he had recently told me a weirdly inappropriate sex dream in which he was naked at the sales conference. He, in return, printed out an poster of my "dream man" on the color printer, drew man hearts* all over it, and hung it up on my cube wall. Obviously.

*Man hearts are hearts that men draw with that are always weirdly lopsided with the lines never actually meeting neatly at the bottom. Apparently they don't have as much practice as women doodling them all over their notebooks in grade and middle school.

After snatching it off my cube wall and shutting it in a drawer as fast as possible, I had the idea to make this poster my "item" for the bathroom experiment. So I put a "Free" sticky note on it, stealthy placed it in the bathroom and waited. 

 

Within an hour, it was gone. I didn't think I'd see it hanging up on anyone's cube or anything, so I never thought I'd find out who took it.

I had dinner plans with another colleague after work that day, and we were having a great conversation when I casually mentioned that I have weird dreams, including one really weird one with Bernie Madoff.

He then gave me a strange look, reached into his bag, pulled out the poster, and said, "Wait - was it you who put this in the women's restroom?"

I, obviously, replied with, "Why do you have something someone left in the women's restroom?"

He then told me that another colleague of ours saw it, snatched it up, and then went over to his desk to brainstorm as to why it was there and who had left it. I asked him to elaborate, and he replied with, "Yeah, nothing we came up with was less exciting than the truth."

I don't see how anything involving a Bernie Madoff poster would not be funny but hey that's just me.

Day 173: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Wistful Reminiscing

Rhyme Royal Type is a type of poetry consisting of stanzas of seven lines in Iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of ababbcc. (Iambic pentameter is poetry structure in which each line’s meter is divided into five pairs of two syllables each. Each line has to contain exactly ten syllables for the meter to be effective.)

This poem is about my hour-long commute to my job in downtown Chicago from the suburbs. The mornings are especially hard, as I find myself having too much time in my own head to reminisce and miss those I left behind in New York.


Wistful Reminiscing

I zip my coat and brace for pelting rain
Dreading the commute; a way-too-long ride.
My pants are soaked while waiting for the train.
On board, I sit sandwiched one on each side
Wishing for the rare single seat to hide.
After a ride, there's a mile-long walk, too.
It's way too much time to think about you.

Day 172: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... On The State of Finance

I thought the ominous sky worked well as the background for this cliche.

Last week's cliche: Sleeping like a baby

Day 171: Stop. Focus. Click... On Puppets

Gotta love an impromptu puppet show outside of my work (I have this same disco ball hanging on a wall of my cube!).

Day 170: Remember the Time... I Had The Birds And The Bees Talk At Work

"I promise I'll read the first entire paragraph of the plant article because I know you've spent months updating and improving it," I said to my colleague, Brian. "But I don't think I can read all 30 pages of it. That might be a little too much."

"Well gymnosperm and angiosperm aren't for everyone," he replied.

"What-o-sperm?" I asked. "What's that?"

"That's a type of plant," he replied. "There's lots of sperm in the plant world. Flowers are essentially nature's genitals."

"What!?" I replied. "Come on."

"No, I'm serious," he replied, grabbing the F volume of the encyclopedia set I have at my desk. He flipped to the "flower" article and proceeded to give me the plant version of the birds and the bees story by explaining pollination, which is essentially plant sex. Remember the time I extensively discussed plant sex at work?

He said that actual bees land on certain flowers and pollinate them, which means the bees disturb the seeds containing the sperm of the flower. This allows the sperm to float and land on the receptive part of the flower that leads to its ovaries, which fertilizes it and leads to reproduction.

"So what you're saying," started my colleague, Heather, who was listening to the conversation from her neighboring cube, "is that the pollen that causes people to have horrible allergies is plant jizz?"

"Is that what you're saying?" I asked Brian in horror. "Does this mean that whenever I walk through a park full of gorgeous wildflowers in the spring, what I'm actually doing is walking through a cloud of ejaculation?"

"Pretty much," Brian replied. "There's all kinds of sex going on on the plant world all of the time. They have as much sex as we do!"

"Why is it that whenever we talk extensively about something, it always leads to sex?" I asked Brian, shaking my head. "Next thing you know, we'll invent a makeout room or something."

"We already did that," he said.

"Oh right," I said. "Well, maybe the plants can use it."

"To spread their plant jizz?" Heather asked.

"Can you even say that at work?" Brian asked her.

"Oh Brian. You have no idea what we say at work over here," I said, shaking my head at his naivety. "Just before you came over, I was emphasizing to my boss that we had to be tough with our developers by saying 'we have to go in there iron fisting them.' Yes, I said we needed to be 'fisting' them."

"I'm not surprised," Brian said, laughing.

"OK, Brian," I said. "After this conversation, I am intrigued and now look forward to reading every word of your 30-page plant article."

The morale of the story: Whenever you want to get someone to do something, make a reference to sex.

Day 169: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... 5:42 would mean 5:42

Contrary to what some may believe, I actually do like watching sports. I used to go to all my high school football games, remember watching Michael Jordan and the Bulls play all seven games of the NBA finals one year, and have grown up rooting for the University of Michigan football team.

What has always frustrated me, however, is just how long the games are past how long they're supposed to be. Football games are supposed to be 60 minutes long. And yet they end up being more than three hours long with commercials, timeouts, halftime, huddles, etc.

Therefore, when I see that the clock reads 5:42 in a football game, I know that I have about an hour before the game is over, give or take 45 minutes. This is annoying. If I ruled Lichtenstein, we'd set the clock and let it run down to zero. That way everyone would know exactly how much time is left for the Wolverines to eat the Buckeyes.

Day 168: What Did Batman Say to Robin... About It Truly NOT Being Easy Being Green

Holy envious of every other color Batman!

Why is it not easy being green?

This question was posed by none other than Kermit the Frog in the song "It's Not Easy Being Green." And his reason? Because it's the same color as the leaves, and he feels like he doesn't stand out. But then he concludes that since green is the color of spring and is an all-around friendly color, he decides it's what he wants to be.

Kermit had an absolute golden opportunity to bring to light the horrible struggle of all things green - and even had the perfect title, but then totally missed the boat by concluding with, "eh. It's not so bad after all."

Apparently he's the only one who feels this way. Most other green characters feel slighted and shunned.

Gumby is constantly being pulled, bent, and twisted in ways that make the kama sutra jealous.

The Hulk turns into a crazed giant monster every time someone cuts him off while driving in traffic

The Grinch tried to keep Christmas from coming so he could continue to wallow in his own misery, but even with his best efforts, he failed. And on top of that, no one wanted to come near him - even if they had a 39 1/2-foot pole.

Frankenstein was created with such a freakish appearance - green skin, black lips, and exposed neck screws - that he's shunned by humans and feels so abandoned that he seeks revenge against his creator.

Elphaba from Wicked was bullied in school, yet still held on to her dream to work with the wizard - until she found out he was a phony, and had to take on her quest to help the animals solo.

And the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles take direction from an old rat and are forced to live away from society in the nastiest sewer system on Earth - the one underneath New York City.

Still feel like it's not all that bad being green Kermit? Might you be forgetting the crazed, headstrong, necklace-wearing pig that's in love with you?

Yeah. That's what I thought.

Day 167: Never Have I Ever... Been Very Good With Directions

"Hey Mark - are you going anywhere near Olgivie [train station]?" I asked one of my teammates after we lost our playoff game in the first round. (Not surprising - we lost every single one of our games, too.)
"I don't even know where that is," he replied.

"Oh, OK then. Nevermind - I'll just get a cab," I said.

"Get in. But you have to tell me where it is," he said.

Ah. The bliss of those who don't know me and the disasters that come with me + directions. The conversation continued as such with me directing Mark from the passenger seat:

I don't know where the train station is. I just tell the cab driver to take me there and then he does.
Look it up. And get in - I've already moved my McDonald's salad off the front seat.
Who gets salad at McDonald's?
I had to have something healthy. Why, what do you get?
French fries. What the hell else would I get?
A salad.
What, you mean you don't eat chili before playing basketball?
Absolutely not. Where am I going?
I don't know. Why are you already driving?
I'm taking you to the train station! Are you going to tell me where it is?
I told you I don't know where it is.
Where are you going?
You tell me!
Hold on, you're probably going the right way anyway... OK, got it. You need to turn around.
You said I was going the right way!
Well you will be when you turn around and go onto Halstead, which we're already on. Except we're not. Go to Halstead.
This is Blackhawk.
Blackhawk? That isn't even on my map.
Oh for the love of God.
Why don't you just head downtown?
I don't know where downtown is!
It's where those tall buildings are! Look, I can see it from here! It's straight ahead. Just go there.
OK, just go straight right through that "Road Closed Follow Detour" sign?
I guess not. Maybe you should follow the detour.
I have no other choice!
OK then follow the detour!
So where now?
Just follow this blue dot.
What blue dot?
This blue dot on my iPhone.
What the hell are you talking about?
Just turn right here. You know how much you remind me of my friend Iggy? It's crazy
Really? Oh yeah, did you hear [our lame teammate whose name we don't care to remember because he's a douchebag, but we know it stars with a K] Kumar when he said, "Well guys, you should just pass me the ball all the time."
Why does Kumar sound like Kermit the Frog?
Cause he's a douchebag. That's how they all sound.
Oh. Right... WHY are you going straight?
You didn't tell me to turn!
I said right!
I thought you were talking about Kumar!
Stop calling him Kumar! Kumar is cool. Our Kumar is a douchebag!
I know, right! And YES, turn right.
Right? You're sure.
Yes, I'm sure.
You're sure... ON THE EXPRESSWAY?!
WHAT? WHY ARE WE ON THE EXPRESSWAY?!
YOU TOLD ME TO GO ON THE EXPRESSWAY!
I DIDN'T TELL YOU TO GET ON THE EXPRESSWAY! I TOLD YOU TO TURN RIGHT! RIGHT WAS THE EXPRESSWAY!
WHY ARE WE ON THE EXPRESSWAY!? GET OFF THE EXPRESSWAY! ... Or, actually, if you just want to keep heading this way, it's the way to my apartment. Do you want to take me to Arlington Heights?
Absolutely not! Get Garmin. Type it in.
OK, OK, fine. Are you mad at me?
Yes! No, of course not. Don't be silly.
OK just checking.

And yes, we actually did make it to the train station and no he wasn't late for his third-shift job.

But as for giving me a ride ever again... I'm not holding my breath.

Day 166: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Death of a Genius

An elegy poem is a sad and thoughtful poem lamenting the death of a person. I chose to eulogize the late great Steve Jobs, who died on Oct. 5, 2011 at the age of 56.

Granny Smith Genius

Do I have everything?

I ask myself before a long vacation,

Checking my carry-on again

To ensure I packed my

iPod,

iPhone, and

iPad.

Three unnecessary items I

Don't want to forget.

I didn't know I needed them

But Steve Jobs did.

He knew I needed them 

Before I knew I needed them.

And didn't need a roomful of people

Or a six-figure salary

To tell him what he already knew.

Because of Steve Jobs

I now know what that tiny pocket

In my jeans is for

And fiercely argue with "PCs"

Because I have staked my claim as a "Mac."

I only wish that today

Reports of your death

Were still greatly exaggerated.

Day 165: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... Almost Too Cute For Words

The photo possibilities for this cliche are so adorable, I had to post two.

These are both of my niece, Mackenzie, when she was just a peanut. Precious.

Last week's cliche: The ball's in your court

Day 164: Stop. Focus. Click... On Granny Panties

Marilyn Monroe was larger than life, as Artist Seward Johnson's 26-foot depiction in downtown Chicago illustrates.

Iconic.

Day 163: Remember the Time... I Am NOT a Walking STD

"Hey Jeff? Can you give me herpes?" I asked my colleague at work today.

"You mean right now?" he replied.

"Yeah. It's not the end of the workday yet," I said.

"OK - here you go. You now have herpes," he said. "And why don't I give you syphilis and a staph infection as well," he said, handing me GIANT microbes plush toys representing the diseases, which I needed for the video I was working on for work. 

"Thanks! I know I can always count on you," I told him, hurriedly brushing past the science editors that undoubtedly overheard the conversation.

...

"What? Erika has crabs?" Erin asked Heather and I as she was walking back to her cube near ours at work loud enough for the colleagues passing by our area to hear.

"No! I was just saying Erika has been not happy lately, and has the crabbies," Heather said.

"Geez, this is how rumors get started," I said, shaking my head. "Soon everyone in this office is going to think I'm a walking STD.

Day 162: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... Animal Abuse Would Be Severely Punished

Adopting my dog, Chloe, was one of the best decisions I've ever made. She's a constant companion who's always up for snuggling, playing, and giving lick-kisses.

Pets in general have such amazing feel-good powers, and all they ask for in return is nourishment and love. This is why my heart breaks every time either my vet or I have to do something that I know is completely harmless to Chloe – like clip her toenails, give her medicine, or go anywhere near her rear end – because she does not take it well. I’ve actually fought back tears in the waiting room at the vet’s office listening to her howl when the vet examines her, which leads us both to believe that she may have been abused in her past.

And I can see other instances where abuse in her past would make sense. I can’t yell at her when she misbehaves, like when she eats – yes, literally eats – the carpet, unless I want to clean up the piddle she’ll undoubtedly make on the floor. And she’s afraid of everything loud noise related, whether it’s coming from the thunderstorm, a movie soundtrack, or the vacuum cleaner.

If I ever had the misfortune to meet the person who’s caused these fears I fear the amount of damage I would inflict upon him or her. Before I adopted her, I asked the woman at the shelter what she knew about her, since Chloe had been at the shelter for a month before I brought her home. All she said was, “Chloe just needs someone to love her.” I have found that to be unequivocally true.

While I’ll never say that it’s never OK to beat an animal (because I absolutely would if said animal had some part of my child in its mouth, for example), 99.9 percent of the time, animal abuse is unwarranted. Animals can’t understand us the way humans can, so most of the time it’s not their fault if they misbehave; it’s a product of bad training or cruel owners.

And yet animal abuse is still is an all-too-common occurrence, and the penalties are all too slap-on-the-wrist in severity. Not in Lichtenstein. The penalties in Lichtenstein are going to be the same for animals as it is for people. Beating a pet is going to carry the same amount of charges as beating a spouse because a dog can’t call for help or grab car keys and drive away. Dogs just have to endure the abuse and hope one day it stops. This infuriates me almost more than anything else in this world.

And in my country, it will not be tolerated. Not in my country.

Day 161: What Did Batman Say To Robin... About Saving the Dodo Bird

Holy endangered species Batman!

What would you do if you saw an endangered animal eating an endangered plant?

I'm going to begin answering this question with two questions:

1. Do you know what Bennett's seaweed looks like?

2. Do you know what a Dodo Bird looks like?

My guess is that you answered the first question with something along the lines of, "Bennett's seaweed probably looks like regular seaweed" or "Huh?" I also think you probably answered the second question with, "Of course! It's an extinct bird made up of miscellaneous foul parts because it's the platypus of birds!"

Both Bennett's seaweed and the Dodo bird are extinct. But unless you're a botanist or in the Save the Seaweed club, you've probably never heard of Bennett's seaweed nor knew it was extinct.

But it's common knowledge that the Dodo Bird is extinct, which is the same thing that could happen to today's endangered tigers and my beloved polar bears. I won't stand for my darling Arctic killers joining the Dodo in history books instead of zoos or the Arctic ice.

So what would I do if I saw a polar bear eating running buffalo clover? After I was done wondering why a vegetarian polar bear was in Ohio, I'd let him eat it. I'd desperately miss the polar bear but not the jogging bison... eh whatever it's called.

Day 160: Never Have I Ever... Been This Personally Affected By Advertising

The only time I absentmindedly flip through a magazine is when I'm sitting in a waiting room somewhere and forgot to bring my own. I read the ones I subscribe to from cover to cover, but usually do nothing more than glance at the advertisements, which I refer to as "commercials" for whatever reason.

And rarely does a commercial get my attention, but obviously this one did:

Now I'm smart enough to realize that the innovative people at Zappos.com got my name from the label on my magazine subscription, but wow. I wonder how much more they had to pay to personalize every single advertisement they ran in this month's issue.

But it's effective. If any advertisement were to get my attention, it's this one, which seems to give me a personal message:

Maybe I am missing some pieces in my wardrobe. I'd better look in my closet and see.

Well done, Zappos. Just don't overdo it or I'll quickly get annoyed.

Day 159: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Disguising Emotion

An enjambment poem is one where the first line of each couplet begins a sentence that is continued into the next line. The word "enjamb" comes from the French word for "to straddle."

This poem is unfortunately an all-too familiar situation I find myself in as I have too much time to think on my commute to work. Thankfully, sometimes it rains.

Masking Tears

The shower drips all around me

Clutching my cloned black umbrella.

Sheets break up against my boots

As I slog the mile to work.

People form a headless crowd

As I lower the umbrella to graze against my hair.

Plump drops roll down my coat

Which have nothing to do with the weather.

Because of the welcoming rain

I can mask the pain one more day.