Even professionals in the corporate world could use a good grammar lesson!

In an email from a co-worker:

Let me know there response and plans to address in the very near term.

Please tell me what's wrong with this sentence and how someone in such an important and high position could get away with writing something like that.

*sigh*

To the one I know probably doesn't read this...

After an hour and ten minute conversation tonight, I remembered why we are still friends. Friends when all my friends tell me it's bad, it's wrong, and that I'll probably get hurt again. Tonight, I remembered that whatever they say, they don't understand and won't ever be able to understand what we are.

Some of you might understand the above mentioned sentiment -- knowing you made the right decision. Some may not. But know this -- that after that hour and ten minutes, our relationship, in whatever form it's in now, is what's right.

What happens to an 18-hour bra after 18 hours?

18 hours is a long time. And for me, a really long time to be wearing a bra. That being said, I had never tried out the 18-hour bra, so I thought in order to answer the posed question, I should do some research.

I walked to isles of the store, looking for said bra. After finding it amidst the million other brands claiming they’ll do wonders for the shape and size of your breasts, I found the Playtex display of 18-hour bras.

Most of us may not know, but the 18-hour bra actually comes in a box. It does not hang on the pegs making it easy to see the full thing. Instead of fighting with hangers and bra straps, you have to dig through the rows of boxes (which don’t seem to be in any sort of order at all), find the correct size and color, and then take it out of the box to see if the image on the box does the actual bra justice.

After finding the bra and the correct size, I weaved my way to the fitting room. It was time – time to try it out, hoping I like it enough to take it home and try it out for the 18 hours the bra is known for and really see what would happen for the remaining 6 hours of the day. So I put it on, looking in the mirror, and took it off. What a horrifying bra. Not only was it not comfortable at all, it was uglier than on the box and really made my boobs look pointy. Not worth it. So my scientific experiment ended right then and there in the fitting room.

However, I could not just leave it at that. I got to thinking about the 18-hour bra on my drive home. I thought about the other aspect of the 18-hour bra and it dawned on me. The 18-hour bra does not come with an underwire. What does the bra do those other 6 hours its advertising omits? It recovers from the pervious 18 hours of holding up breasts sans underwire and takes a break to regain the strength for the next 18 hours! It’s got to be tough – being a bra – holding up all that breast for so long. Those last 6 hours must indeed be spent preparing for the next 18. It’s a vicious cycle, but someone or something has got to do it.

I have all confidence you will master this one in all ways possible: If you had to be the underwear of someone famous, who would you choose to wear you?

No Entry. Restroom Closed.

I’ll admit I use the bathroom quite often. (Not as often as some people – you know who you are!) Well, every time I go into the bathroom at work, a yellow “No Entry. Restroom Closed” sign tent stares me in the face and brings me back to the good ol’ days in T-Hall.

Freshman year, Molly and I always went on adventures. We’d take the bus downtown, go to lunch somewhere new, usually make a stop at the two-story Target – the one with a cart escalator – and see what other trouble we could get into.

Some days, we’d just hang out in T-Hall. Molly and Rachel’s room was next to a stairwell. We found lots of cool stuff in there that because ours until move-out day. Our favorite items were these yellow tent signs – usually for “Caution! Wet floor!” We always had a good time spilling water on the floor and whipping the yellow caution tent out of the closet, warning our friends of the wet floor. Oh, the fun we had…

Anyway, now every time I walk into the bathroom at work, I just want to grab the sign, take it out to my car, and bring it home for Molly.

Someday I’ll work up the nerve. Just you wait…

You know you're a good friend when...

... four of you best friends call you at 2:30 in the morning, drunk off their asses, asking you to pick them up downtown because they have been waiting for a cab for over 30 minutes and know you'll come get them.

Awesome boys (and Em). Glad to know you know I am always a phone call away.

I love all of you -- even you way far away ;o)

I'm going back to bed...

Everything Is Illuminated.

Read the book. Actually read the book - give it a chance, it's hard to understand, really weird, but read it.

Then watch the movie.

But promise you'll read the book first...

Need it!

Between Nathan and Nickolas, I get my fair share of "check this out" emails and instant message. And my hat goes off to both of them for the links they do share -- they are usually right on the money -- I would indeed be interested in the gadget or bizarre new story passed my way.

Tonight though, as I skimmed the headlines in my reader, I came across an item Nathan posted. Amazing. I just have to have it. Probably with no intentions to hit me other than knowing I might come across it and he himself found it cool, I must have one of these:

Seriously - how awesome would it be to have a bookshelf in your place that you could actually read in! The cool thing about "The Cave" is that you can put it up against the wall and have a bookshelf with a reading spot right inside, but you can also store books on both sides - creating a room partician and virtually a crawling space to get from one room to another.

While it won't fit in my current apartment, I am fixing to move in the near future. I wonder if one will fit...

In the meantime, along with the bat-suit and bat-mobile my boys owe me, add this to the list. Or, if any of you want to pitch in and get me this for my birthday -- (you still have some time to save up) -- it will only cost you a mere $10,700.

Please buy it for me please!

Is a metaphor like a simile?

What the hell kind of question is this?! Quite a doozie, even for a lover of grammar and the English language. I looked at it the first time and was ready to whip out all my grammar and style books, give a really technical answer that few might really appreciate. I really had to think more about it – is a metaphor like a simile.

First of all, I congratulate you for posing a question about a metaphor in the form of a simile. Nice work. Secondly, thanks for presenting me with a chance to talk about grammar and style – not many really want to hear me drone on about comma usage or the difference between “good” and “well”. But there really isn’t a good way to make this interesting, so my apologies for the forthcoming textbook answer. I won’t lie – this one was tough.

Is a metaphor like a simile? The answer, short and sweetly, is yes, a metaphor is like a simile, but different. This may not be a fair answer, but it’s what I will offer. Here’s why:

A simile compares two unlike things using a comparison word such as “like” or “as”. Example: Quick like a fox. A metaphor, on the other hand, compares two unlike things without a comparison word. Example: Life’s a bitch.

So they are different, but the same, see. The main difference is that comparison word. We make comparisons all the time. Whether it’s about a meal we just had compared to a meal the night before or sexual partners (come on, we all say we don’t compare one to the next, but we all do it – it’s in our nature).

Ok, I give up – that was incredibly difficult and there is no way to make it any more interesting or fun. So forgive me, really. A metaphor, while different, is indeed like a simile.

I know this did no justice to the question and I’m sure I could do better, but I think this is the best we’re going to get. But… I’ll leave you with a simile:

Every time I look at the t-rex, I smile like a kid in a candy shop.

(Official MSWord word count: 366, jeezuz that was hard to hit!)


And for you, while it might seem like an amateur challenge, we both know it’s more complicated than the immediate, obvious answer. I challenge you: Why did the chicken cross the road?

If you had to choose to not ever wash your bed sheets again or not wash your bath towel ever again, which would you rather not wash?

If I had to choose to not ever wash my bed sheets again or not wash my bath towel ever again, I would choose never to wash my bath towel again.

Some may say that’s gross, but I beg to differ. Let me offer you both my reasoning for choosing the bath towel and my reasoning for not choosing the bed sheets.

First let us consider the bath towel. When you get into the shower, you’re dirty. You get in to clean yourself (or to wake up or to refresh, but let’s concentrate on the cleaning of oneself). Ergo, when you leave the shower (and are ready to use the bath towel) you are clean. The bath towel really just serves the purpose of drying your wet – and clean – body off from the shower water. You have presumably rid yourself of all the dirt, odors, and bodily fluids, so when using the bath towel you should already be clean. Alas, the towel really isn’t getting dirty, just wet.

Now, the bed sheets. I would rather wash my bed sheets. Why? We sleep on them every night. While we (should) also use our bath towels every day (or night, depending on when you shower), we use bed sheets in a completely different manner. As argued above, we are clean when we use the bath towel. When we hop into bed at night to go to sleep, we may be quite dirty, or may I offer odorous, from the day behind us. Not only that, but think about what happens while you’re in bed. Some may sweat like crazy – maybe it’s too hot in the room. Some may drool – droolers, you know who you are. And for those lucky ones – and I mean lucky – bodily fluids of one sort or another may get on the sheets. Not something you really want to sleep on for the rest of all time. We’ve all done it – slept on fluid-infested sheets for more than just that lucky night – but come on… it’s kind of gross.

Thus, this is why if I had to choose to not ever wash my bed sheets again or not wash my bath towel ever again, I would choose not to wash my bath towel.

(Official MSWord word count: 380)


Your challenge, if you so choose to accept, in at least 300 words, is this: Would you rather fly when you fart or pee when you laugh?

The dreadful DVR...

The manual is done. 10 drafts and 50 hours later, the DVR manual is done. Nothing felt better than to send the email to the factory, green sticker and initial the printed manual, and close the folder.

I'm going to do a victory lap around my office and then go home and indulge in a bottle (yes, an entire bottle) of Kosher for Passover wine.

I'm out.

More trouble at the office... and a Pesach recipe!

It seems that three days worth of vacation away from the office would probably help clear the air a little -- or at least let things cool off a bit -- give me a chance to breathe a little and return refreshed. Right?

Wrong.

I thought it was going to be ok. I came back, after being gone Friday, Monday, and Tuesday to be with my family for Pesach, to 170 emails, a pile of folders waiting my attention, and a box of bagels across from my cube calling my name. While I was able to avoid the bagels, I was not able to avoid the rest.

And it really wasn't that bad. I was all caught up by noon, was able to get away from my desk and enjoy some leftover matzah stuffing and turkey while Tristan indulged in a nice looking hoagie, and wrote the copy for the seven microwave sell sheets. I knew tomorrow meant I have to finalize the DVR manual, so I had to get as much catching up done today as I could.

Then it happened. I went up to check on my products in sample review and was informed "she" doesn't like the shape of the camera box. Not five minutes after I returned to my desk, there were emails flying around about a "quick 10 minute meeting" to discuss box die lines (that's packaging-talk for box size and layout).

So we have a meeting. Me, "her", and the two camera product managers (one via phone as his wife just had twins). "She" started off by pointing out a box with only English on the packaging. I quickly added the reason the box was English-only was because of the retailer and its retailer-exclusive packaging.

Right after I opened my mouth I regretted it. I knew I should have gone in with my mouth shut, but damn me for knowing my products too well. And as I said it, she snapped right back at me. I could not believe it. She had no right to bitch back when I was clearly in the right and know. "I know, Liiiiiiiiz," she barked. I froze, got up, and went to my desk to get something I left there that was going to be helpful for the meeting. I debated whether or not to return to the conference room.

I should have stayed at my desk.

I don't know what I did to her to deserve this treatment. But if this continues, I am going to have to start weighing my options. I have some ideas floating around in my head... maybe they'll come out for discussion. Not tonight. We'll see how tomorrow goes.

* * * * *

A Peasch post to come... tomorrow maybe. What I will say is tonight I made Apple Matzah Kugel. Highly recommend it:

10 boards matzah
4 eggs
1 tsp salt
1 cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
4 tbsp butter, melted
3 large apples, chopped

Break matzah into small pieces and soak in water until soft. Drain, but do not squeeze dry. Whisk together eggs and salt. Add melted butter, sugar, and cinnamon, and blend. Stir in matzah to combine. Add apples and mix. Pour into greased 9x13 dish. Drop a few bits of butter on top and sprinkle with additional cinnamon. Bake at 350* for 45 minutes.