Social Death And/Or Dismemberment

Laura likes to make little comics, and this one made me laugh. This is another one of those social discomforts--there seem to be so many these days--that would of course be very difficult to explain to our ancestors. But it cracked me up that Laura recognized the potential for such a precise brand of angst in a particular intersection of technology and social life. But now I risk doing that thing where you explain the joke.

Just lately, a widely-read blogger, the Uppercase Woman, apparently accidentally followed a certain twitter account, and then unfollowed it. The account she followed/unfollowed is a so-called parody account that exists only to imitate and make fun of Uppercase Woman's tweets. So whoever runs that account got an email notification that the very object of her parody had followed her, however briefly, which showed that she is aware of the parody account and may even read it. That must have been very gratifying to the parodist, because she wasted no time in crowing about it to the community that has assembled for the purpose of dissecting and criticizing this blogger's posts.

This was all kind of gross to me. Yes, "gross," that's a advanced critical term. Look for my forthcoming book on media, affect, and the technological deformations of empathy in our modern age.

Further, in discussing some other situation on the interwebs, Elle remarked that, just as Michael Pollan in his Food Rules instructs us to avoid any "food" that your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize, we should eschew social kerfuffles that would be nonsense to that dear old soul. So anytime someone is attempting to score points and their demonstration involves the panoptical following/unfollowing/liking/poking of someone/something on a social media platform, let us gracefully sidestep if we can. Perhaps a good time to visit the punch bowl.

We were out late seeing the Hunger Games movie tonight, so I wanted to post briefly. I thought the movie was fine. I don't know what I would have made of it if I hadn't read the book. Anyone in that category?

Here's another one from Laura:

Basically.

Sorry to ramble, but I swear there is a method in it somewhere. Chime in if you feel moved.

night!

More People Who Are Bad

Friends, I am really upset. Due to a cascade of screw-ups, some mine, some GoDaddy's, my suburbanmatron.com domain expired without my knowing and was scooped up by some garbagey company who stalks expiring domains so they can buy them and redirect them to ads for cheap viagra. So now my links all over the internet are broken. Unless you are in the market for some cheap viagra.

GoDaddy is supposed to "park" a domain when it is in the final stages of expiring. That is, when you go there, you see a GoDaddy page that lets you know something is up. But my domain worked fine--I updated this blog on the 14th--and then all of a sudden, it was whisked away.

This business of buying up expiring domains is a whole shady corner of the internet. The guy who got mine is a 21 year-old who lives in his parents' basement in Chicago. He offered to sell it back to me for $5,500.

Think of all the boner pills that would buy him.

Or don't think of it.

So, I don't even know. Any advice or ideas you have are welcome. I'm left with the plan of trying to continue to get my correct links out through facebook and twitter, though I know this only reaches a small part of my readers. I mean, it's not like this domain was my livelihood, but I'd been building it for over four years.

Maybe I'll still get it back. I can't think that the traffic generated by people google searching my blog will generate this domain-stalker any real money. Certainly not enough to live on his own and maybe kiss a girl one day. We'll see.

Makes me way madder than my purse being stolen.

I will still be here, and if you have me linked on your blog and are seeing this post, please change your link to the URL that is up top, www.suburbanmatron.blogspot.com. And follow me on fb and twitter and all that so I can keep you in the loop. And if you are following SubMat on fb, maybe share this news with any friends you have who are also readers. Sniff.

Meanwhile I'm going to go do some emotional eating. But first I'll favor you with an emoticon.

xoxox

Where's My Plain Brown Wrapper?

So the other week I read an article in the NYT about that Fifty Shades of Grey erotic novel and how it was climbing up the charts. The title of the piece says that it "Sets American Women Abuzz," which made me giggle and giggle to myself.

I was like, "Well, okay, I'll download it and read it and see what all the fuss is about."

Then I realized that if I downloaded it and read it on the Kindle app on my iphone, as I do lots of quick reads, it would also show up in the carousel on Laura's new Kindle Fire. I could go and delete it from her virtual bookshelf, but every time I opened it on another device, her Kindle would helpfully sync and put it front and center again.

21st-century parenting. It is really something. 

I decided to skip it, figuring that the author probably hadn't thought of any new ways to do it. Plus I'm still blushing from that dildo party I went to.

So I was glad when Aimee read it and reviewed it on her blog yesterday. And here's another good take on it from the NYT too. It says the appeal of the book is not in the dirty bits but in the Cinderella element, and I think that's prolly right.

What are you doing? I'm in Chattanooga with the kids, staying with Betty, Matt's mom. Matt will come after work tomorrow and we'll have Easter here.

Stand still long enough and Grandmommy will put lotion on you.

Today we just lounged around and took the kids swimming at the YMCA. Exactly the amount of nothing I wanted to do for Spring Break. It is great having somebody else to love on these kids while I blog, read old magazines, and sleep 'til 10:30.

Girl Gone Wild.

Hope you're having fun! xoxo

I'd Take That Bargain

I had a nice exchange with my sis-in-law as she was passing through town on Friday.

I died. Then I texted her, "I just died."

Speaking of technology, and of my brother and sister-in-law, AND of things that practically lay me in my grave:

Not long ago, Dave mentioned on the facebook that he and Katie had spent a whole year with a laptop keyboard on which the 'p' and 'n' keys didn't work, but they had finally taken it to the Apple store, where it was fixed quickly and for free. I realized I faintly remembered this problem from when we visited them in DC in April, that their 'p' and 'n' keys didn't work. And this is their only computer, mind you.

Fjords! I mean, I can't even, it's too much.

Then he went on to say that when he needed a 'p,' either lower- or upper-case, he would google "Obama" because that would get him "President." Then I was like ARGLE BARGLE and I blacked out.

Blacked out with delight.

We are such tool-using monkeys.

Someone PLEASE devise an alphabet primer composed of the best google search for seeking out each letter, from A-Z, keeping in mind that the search terms cannot contain the broken letter. Please do that. Where are we on that?

Dear Santa, Please See Attached

Weeks ago, probably back in October, Laura took me by the arm and ushered me into the office. She pulled out the desk chair for me and seated me in front of the computer. After some lighting adjustments, she stood behind me in the corner of the room.

Then, as she used the wireless mouse to fire up Power Point from across the room, I realized that instead of writing a letter to Santa, she had created a multimedia presentation. After a flashy intro slide, it went:

There were snazzy fade in/segue effects between each slide. I murmured appreciatively at the clarity and succinctness of her bullet points. My girl. Then she turned the lights up, and, I kid you not, she served refreshments.

(I couldn't make this child up. She is one of the universe's most extravagant productions.)

She brought in a plate of cookies and a cup of juice for Hank. For me there was coffee.

And darned if she's not getting just about everything she asked for.

A note about the tween gossip magazine. She has no idea what "cheated" means, or I don't think she's put that term together with what she knows about the biological facts of reproduction. I imagine she thinks it means going around town with someone else. And what's funny about these magazines--they don't have any REAL gossip in them, like, you won't read a word about Justin Bieber's paternity suit. It's all about who lost her cat and whose mom was really sick but now she's all better. L-O-L. And I never bought her one of those, but I think various grandmothers have.

I think her last slide means that she is open to receiving things not listed, but that Santa would like to provide on his own initiative if he has any ideas. She's fine with that.

And yes, I guess this is another one of those moments when you don't just suspect but know with certainty that you are raising one of the most indulged creatures in history, ever, but then you kinda just want to admire your handiwork.

A couple of nights ago, at dinner, Laura opened her mouth to muse about what she would do if she won the lottery. Matt and I--we really have been together a long time--interrupted her and said in virtual unison, "You have already won the lottery. You won it before you were born." Then we kept shushing her until she shushed.

Y'all having a busy week? I'm like, eek! Ork! Argle bargle Christmas! Coming closer! Been making candy for the neighbors and trying to remember a bunch of little things. And loving it, loving it all. I agree with my sister, Christmas forever.

Ring ting tingle!
B

We Finally Canceled Our Cable

We have sometimes intended to shut off our TV service over the last few years but it has never quite happened.  In fact, the last time I meant to cancel our cable, I just switched from Comcast to U-Verse and added more channels.  Wha?

So what made me finally cut the cord?  I think several things came together.  We have Netflix instant streaming through our xbox, and the kids get most of the TV entertainment they have from there (or all of it, in Hank's case).  Netflix keeps adding more and more stuff that's streamable.  We never get actual discs in the mail anymore.  

Actually, sometimes I've felt that having easy access to cable and network TV has kept me from watching better things on Netflix.  Like, after the kids go to bed, I'll mindlessly watch an episode of "House Hunters" instead of mindlessly watching "Damages" on Netflix, which is way better.  

Somehow, my having finished my Ph.D. also made me want to ditch the cable.  It seems like I should be ready to watch more TV without guilt, but it's happened that there are now so many more things I want to read for pleasure, and TV is getting in the way of that.  

And, finally, we played with an xbox Kinect the other night, and I said to Matt, "I want one of these."  He was like, "Ugh, it's all too much with the stuff."  I said, "How about if we cancel the cable? And he was like, "Deal."  I made the mistake of letting that slip to Laura, so everyday since then, she's asked me, "Did we cancel the cable yet?"  The girl wants a Kinect.  

Matt was into the plan because he always loves to save a dollar, and he watches literally no TV besides the Celtics.  

The only sad part of losing the cable and the shows we'd recorded with our DVR is that now I need a way to preserve my "FRINGE" fame.  Did y'all know I was this famous?  Last week my name was written into the screenplay.  See here!  The writers of that episode, "6955kHz," are two friends of ours from college, and they gave us a heads-up to look for a surprise in that episode.  I thought it might be like, my name is given to one of the characters, but it's never spoken and would only appear in the credits.  But no!  Lance Reddick (who, to me, will always be Mr. Abadon in "Lost," said my full name, and then all the characters were like, Becky this and Woomer that.  It was such a trip, I was giggling for two days.  

I thought the actress who played me really got to the emotional core of my character.  That part where the short wave radio transmission gives her amnesia and she pulls a knife on her husband? OMG, that's exactly what I would have done!  And my TV husband Laird Woomer (our friend Glen said it was going to be "Matthew" but they'd had a Matt he week before) was a total hunk and obviously deeply in love with Becky.  Fame! So I had it saved on my DVR to show my parents when they get back from Australia, but now I'll have to find it online somewhere.  

Fame!

So that's what's going on here.  Have you guys cut the cords on your TV already?  I mentioned it on facebook and everybody was like, "OMG, you are so two thousand late, none of us has watched TV on an actual TV since Howdy Doody."  But I never claimed to be a digital pioneer.  

I Don't Think We Are Four Loko Material

Scandalamitous beverage events:  I had never heard of this Four Loko drink until three days ago and here it has already been banned by an entire state.  Saturday, we went up to the mountain house, and our in-the-know friend Sloan produced a can.  It was tall and purple, and it featured the words, "Contains Alcohol" as a prominent design element.  I was like, "Wah?" and he was all, "We picked this up on the way, it's been banned," and I was like, "Okay, I'll try it."

Banned, baby! Like Lady Chatterley's Lover!

The gist is that it's a caffeinated energy drink that's also 12% alcohol, and it costs $2-$3 for a 24 oz. can.  College campuses are freaking out about this and several teenagers have ended up in the hospital.  I guess the theory is that the caffeine keeps you so alert that you don't realize how screwed up you're getting, so you stay up and drink instead of falling asleep the way nature intended.  And it's cheap, so cheap it's like, loko.

Night fell at the mountain house, and Sloan popped open the huge can, poured a little into four glasses, and carried them to the table.  We picked them up and eyed them like we were at a wine tasting.  I was already thinking that maybe we weren't cut out for Four Loko, with our little bistro glasses.

We took a swig.

Someone started moaning.  Oh my God it started like an injury and then got worse.  Everyone began talking at once.

"It tastes just like Dimetapp from when I was a kid!"
"It's really bad, right?"
"I'm not young enough to drink this."
"I'm not poor enough."

Upon sipping, the initial impression is merely cough syrupy, then in the middle things start to get strident, and then the finish rolls around, and it's like a grape boot stamping on a human face forever.

And oh, the terrible sweetness.  I had to fight several hummingbirds to finish my ounce of liquid.  I think only Sloan and I actually drank our tiny portions of the stuff. Matt poured his out and made a real drink. And Becky (another Becky!) took two sips and got jittery.  I think that could have been the Red  #40, though, even more than the caffeine.

Matt summed up what we were all feeling when he said, "I just have no desire to eat or drink anything ironically anymore."  Yes.  I remembered that there is a name for that phenomenon.  The great Douglas Coupland calls it "nutritional slumming":

[The eating of] food whose enjoyment stems not from flavor but from a complex mixture of class connotations, nostalgia signals, and packaging semiotics: Katie and I bought this tub of Multi-Whip instead of real whip cream because we thought petroleum distillate whip topping seemed like the sort of food that air force wives stationed in Pensacola back in the early sixties would feed their husbands to celebrate a career promotion. (page 120) 

I had forgotten that there was a Pensacola reference in Generation X. Awesome.

It's possible that our crowd was doing it wrong, because this guy drank a bunch of Four Loko and liked it and had a hilarious evening.  We just played spades and then got in the hot tub and then went to bed.  It seemed like we were having a pretty great time, if not actually Loko in the strict sense.

Segway Tour: Walking Makes Me Sad Now

While we were in Asheville over the weekend, Matt had a surprise outing for us. We got up Monday morning and he said, "What are the most comfortable shoes you brought?" And I was like, "These thong sandals with big brass salamanders on top, naturally. I didn't know there would be, like, hiking." After he asked that I figured that we were going to meet up with a walking tour, or maybe one of the trolleys I'd seen around town. But no!

ZOMG Segways! He'd booked us spots with Moving Sidewalk Tours. When we got to the Asheville Visitors' Center and I realized what we were doing, I squealed like a tiny baby girl. I'd always been curious about those things, and I couldn't believe they were going to let me get on one. It crossed my mind that I would possibly drive it into a telephone pole, but I was so excited! I resolved to be the most A+++ student of Segway ever and to not endanger other people much at all.

Fortunately our guide, Wes, passed out helmets (Matt got the Evil Knievel helmet) and gave us a lesson before we hit the open road. It was just us and one other couple, which was great. There was only one awkward moment, after Wes had pointed out which were the bigger helmets and which were the smaller ones, and I reached for a bigger one. The other girl said, "But that's one of the bigger ones," and I was all, "Look at the size of this melon." Anyhoo.

So, the instructions for successfully getting onto the Segway:

1) Step up onto it.

2) Just stand there.

Magical fairies down underneath your feet do the work of holding you steady. You don't balance, you just stand and breathe. It feels weird for about thirty seconds and then it feels totally amazeballs.

Then, when you want to move forward, you just barely lean forward with your hips, and you glide forward exactly like you glide in your best dreams. Wes was leading us around the parking lot, and I was getting the hang of it, weaving around obstacles and zooming on the sidewalk. All at once I found myself saying, "I feel that I am magic!" Only I kind of yelled it, like, "I feel that I AM MAAAAGIIIIIIIIC." Wes was like, "Yeah, that feeling is normal." And there were rainbow-colored comet trails of sparkles shooting out behind and bluebirds and cartoon squirrels raced along, trying to keep up with me.

If I had a Segway I would go outside right now, in the dark, and ride all over the neighborhood in my socks. Segway!

So you use the handlebars only to turn; you can actually ride with no hands, which is helpful if you are having a conversation and need to add gestures. Wes showed us a technique where you actually steer with your knees, leaving your hands permanently free for I don't know what. The other thing the handlebars do, I found, is nudge against your hips when the Segway decides you're going too fast. This happened to me a couple of times toward the end of our tour when I was getting cocky and sorta kinda racing.

Asheville is the perfect-sized place for a Segway tour. We spent about three hours and covered practically the whole downtown, much more than you could do in a walking tour. I so totally recommend doing this if you have a chance. Plus, when we stopped for coffee, we got to leave our Segways in a little row out front, and I was all, "Yeah, this is the way to make an entrance." I felt like I was at the very top of the Nerd Food Chain.

The other couple, Roger (in red) and Victoria, was also celebrating their anniversary. Yay!

This is a new war memorial for Western North Carolinians, and it is hard to take an appropriately somber picture when people are zooming around it on Segways.

So, you know how when you're on the moving sidewalk at the airport and then you step off and it feels like a letdown? Like the ground is so unfriendly to your forward progress and your feet are so dull? That's what getting off the Segway is like, times a kabillion. After our tour we went back into downtown and got lunch, and it was so sad to be shuffling along the same streets we'd zoomed down earlier. Walking is so boring now. Really, it is like dead to me. Stupid dumb walking!

But what a wonderful treat! I did not want to give that thing back. Y'all have got to try it if you haven't. Good thought, Matt! You want him on your team, people.

What I'm Doing Instead of Ordering The New iPhone

Sitting on my hands, that's what. Why do I even know that today is the first day you can pre-order the new iPhone? I'm not one of those Apple people. Even typing the small "i" and the capital "P" in "iPhone" makes me feel like I've capitulated to some form of domination. It's like when fast food restaurants get you to say their dumb branded words, like, "Yes, Josh, I would like to biggie size my order." Just no. This is not English orthography, Apple, I won't just roll over like that.

Or yes I will. Dammit!

After all, my iPhone 3G is working just fine. And a new one would cost money that I don't really need to spend on such a thing. I just want it. A minute ago I moseyed over to the AT&T website and looked at my upgrade options. Then the website broke from all the other people doing the same thing. Now they have a huffy message up saying that they can't deal with your request and could you just please call them on the phone?

Okay already, I can wait. Maybe Hank will drop my phone in the toilet again, and this time, it won't make it.

So what am I doing today then? And would you like that in a bulleted list?

• I ate some sardines. My dad has been loving them for years and I've finally seen the light. Delicious on a cracker with some wasabi mayonnaise and lemon juice. Though good old mustard is nice too.
• I took the kids to the summer dollar movie. Or I took Hank and two of our friends--Laura's in the mountains with Normal Neighbor's family. It reminded me of doing the same thing when I was a kid. Only then they showed old Disney movies, like Clarence the Cross-Eyed Lion, and there were cartoons first. It's all different now in the age of DVD, when kids are likely to own the movies the theater shows. Maybe not as exciting for them? I don't know. Matt and I have tried to impress on the kids how, when we were little, you couldn't just watch any movie you wanted at any time on dvd, Netflix streaming, or on-demand. I can well remember going to the Curtis Mathes store as a family and renting a VCR--like the actual machine--and the movies to watch on it. For my kids that's like hearing a description of churning butter. Remember waiting for the annual showing of The Wizard of Oz on TV?
• My neighbor, one of the K(C)athies, dropped by and gave me an earful of back story on the Mystery People. She gave substance to the rumor I had heard about the Mystery Guy and the foreign exchange student (you really need to click that link), then told me that after his first wife left him, his neighbors on the other side complained about all of his hookers (LOLZ!). Then she opined that the current Mrs. Mystery actually began her relationship with Mystery Guy in something of a hooking capacity. I know that sounds like such a Gladys Kravitz thing to say, but it's actually slightly credible.
• It is 100 degrees here today. In June. It is hotter than . . .I have nothing. Nothing clever to say, too hot. Send cool plz.

What are y'all doing?

Three Apparel-Related Issues

I submit these for your consideration:

1. I bought some white jeans yesterday. Is that wrong? And when is Easter again? 'Cause around here that's still a rule, the whole white shoes and pants only between Easter and Labor Day thing. Or in my culture it is. It has been a long time since I had a pair of white jeans, but I've lost 13 or 14 pounds so I'm celebrating. Celebrating by wearing something that will make me look bigger on the bottom. Maybe when they get here I'll post a pic. (I did the thing where I went to the Gap and tried on a bunch of jeans, and then went online and ordered the right size and style for cheaper.)

2. A month ago I posted this picture of my sister walking down my driveway in her sock feet.

That picture, in my flickr stream, has since been "faved" by two people, strangers, who, judging from their other favorite pictures, have a consuming interest in ladies in their socks. Not even bare feet, but socks and tights. Is THAT wrong? Go ahead, check it out, you can get to their faves through that flickr page if you wanna. I glanced through their faves and they don't have any pictures of kids or anything. Amy, I was going to tell you about it, but I forgot, so I'm telling you now. If you want me to make that photo private, I will, but I see no reason to deprive the world of your DELECTABLE sock toes.

3. Now THIS is wrong. A friend posted a link on my facebook page to Pajama Jeans, Pajamas You Live In, Jeans You Sleep In!

Go to that page and watch the little commercial. My first response was, "This is clothing for the clinically depressed." What do you think? Maybe a guilty pleasure, like the Snuggie?

I just don't know why you would really want to sleep in jeans. And the brass rivets just absolutely slay me.

That's all I got. And I'm submitting this post to Keely's Random Tuesday. Whee! Go over there if you get a notion, 'cause that meme has just gotten huge. Huge like white-jeans-butt huge.

Whatever, Facebook, It's Fine, Really

The much-discussed Facebook redesign finally arrived on my home page a couple days ago, and I was kind of like, hmm, it looks pretty much like the old one. Except it seems like there is no longer that distinction between "News Feed" and "Live Feed," which I'd never really figured out anyway.

Also, some of the people I'd hidden were now unhidden. Weird. That is a whole other topic, why we would friend someone on Facebook and then hide them from view. You know how it goes. I'm lookin' at you, guy from college who wanted to talk about nothing but Ayn Rand.

I did check in on my privacy settings to make sure they hadn't "defaulted" to a setting where my bank account information is now being shared with distressed Nigerian princes. Also it had dawned on me that there's another word for the category "friends of friends," who Facebook is always trying to get you to be visible to. That word is "strangers." So everything looked kosher in there.

Then I noticed that several of my friends had joined one of those "let's get a million people to join in support of same sex marriage" groups. Now, I think this is all great and fun, even though I'm not really sure it's effective political speech. I mean, the first group I ever joined was "If a Million People Join, My Girlfriend Will Let Me Turn Our House Into a Pirate Ship." But, it is more of a fun social-networking thing, and also I support same sex marriage, so I joined the same sex marriage group. As I did it, I said to Matt, "I'm going to see if I can get Frenemy Neighbor to finally unfriend me." Ever since she friended me last year, it's been like When Worlds Collide on there. And she was one of those people who campaigned in favor of Prop 8 even though she doesn't live in California. Anyway.

So last night I logged onto Facebook, and lo and behold, I HAD lost a friend. But it wasn't Frenemy. Son of a monkey! So who was it? Of course, there's no way to know, because it's not like I can look at the huge list of friends and tell who is missing. But that stings, anonymous former friend! What about all those times we had/may have had? What about those school days we shared ten/twenty/thirty years ago?!? And what will that mutual friend/relation of ours think when he/she sees us estranged this way? I don't think you've thought this through, former friend! Come back and I will start a game of scrabble with you and NOT abandon it after a couple of turns. And I will NOT send you Jonas Brothers flair and I will NOT invite you to take purity pledges with me all the time. I promise! Just please reconsider. If only you would reconsider.

Continuing Ebay Adventures

Remember the other day I was griping about shoddy shipping practices? Well, I got my irritation out of my system on this here blog, then I wrote the seller of my broken bowl a nice note. It said something like:

"The bowls arrived quickly, thanks, but one of them was broken in half." Then I favored her with an emoticon.

"The other one is in perfect shape, so of course I want to pay for that one. Would you consider a partial refund for the broken bowl and its shipping?"

She wrote right back and was all, "Oh I'm so sorry, I've just issued you a full refund, we hope you'll shop with us again," etc. Then I thanked her for being so responsive and we were done. I'm glad she gave me my money back. And I think I see why she has 100% positive feedback despite her poor packing and shipping. She bought my silence.

So, then (you didn't think I was finished shopping for Red Wing, did you?), I saw another leaf-shaped bowl like the green one in the post I linked to. This one is is all one color, a gorgeous celadon. And, nobody had found the auction yet and I won it for 99 cents. Good Lord! The shipping was $16 for one of the larger Priority flat-rate boxes, but I thought, well, that's about right, and maybe this one will be properly packed. So I was surprised, when I got the invoice, to see that the seller had added a $16.99 charge in addition to the shipping. Hmm. I looked closely at the auction page to see if this was some kind of bogus "handling" charge, but there was no mention of it. So I sent a note to the seller:

Hi, would you please reissue this invoice? It seems to have an extra $16.99 charge on it. Thanks!

Here was her response:

Yes, I added that because the auction ended so low. You couldn't of expected to get that dish for a dollar did you!

Oh ho! Oh ho ho ho! Let's dig in, shall we? First, I can't even talk about the "couldn't of" because it gives me hives all over my body. Let's just note that this person, despite a lot of history on ebay, it seems, does not understand how an auction works. Her opening bid was 99 cents, I bid that and nobody else did, ergo I get it for 99 cents. There was no reserve price. This is why, when I've sold stuff on ebay, I always always list it at an opening price that I would feel okay with. If I wouldn't want to let an item go for its opening bid, the opening price should be higher. I know many people believe in and use the 99 cent opening price to avoid listing fees and to elicit interest in their auctions--people argue it drives the final price even higher than it otherwise would have been by pulling in bidders and watchers--but that only works if you have a hot item. An auction for obscure mass-produced American art pottery will not work the same as an auction for the next-gen iPod nano. Anyway, yeah, 99 cents is crazy for that dish. I would have paid 20 bucks for it. I paid forty for the one I have now, but it is a better color scheme and had matching candle holders. But that is the way the ebay cookie crumbles. So I wrote back:

Well, I didn't expect to get it for a dollar, to be honest. And I know that it's frustrating to only have one bid on an auction. But if you add the extra charge to your invoice, I'm afraid ebay will see that as fee avoidance, you know? They're tough on that stuff. So I'll keep an eye out for the invoice, thanks!

Then, without responding back, she invoiced me for just the 99 cents plus her original shipping. I'm glad we didn't have to get ugly, 'cause hell hath no fury like a bargain hunter scorned. Also, it is amazing to me how many people are selling stuff on ebay--high volumes of stuff it seems--without knowing the rules of ebay. You see it all the time: people charging excessive handling fees after their auctions end low, people adding surcharges for payment with credit cards rather than paypal funds, on and on. To quote my favorite Monica line from "Friends," people, the rules control the fun.

So yeah, I might have enough Red Wing for right now, unless something absolutely great comes along. I still haven't managed to find a bowl in the same design that Fabienne broke. That one had little feet. They were so elegant. Sigh, it's hard out here for a pimp.

My Thoughts Exactly

In re: that new iPad thing, Sara's post. Go read it, won't you?

It made me laugh. Out loud and everything. Then I practiced the move I'd make, pantomiming sliding that thing out of my purse.

That is all.

Dear Conde Nast Publishing

Hi Condé Nast, what's up? I know you guys must be busy with the holidays and the meltdown of the magazine industry and your company in particular. I just wanted to send a quick note to say I got your sweet postcard yesterday, telling me that my subscription to Cookie is being converted to a Glamour subscription, since Cookie is now defunct. The thing is, my subscription to the dearly-departed Domino was also converted into Glamour, and not that long ago. So now two copies will be coming to my house.

I don't like Glamour. It is not for me. I have already trapped a man, I know how to "read his love signs" (it is not complicated), and I do not have 50 Private Sex and Body Questions that I need answers to. I don't think I have even one. The whole thing makes me sad.

Also, why are the women on the cover of Glamour always squatting? Even Vogue lets the cover girl stand up most of the time, even if she is submissively pointing her toes inward. Sure, Michelle Obama got to stand up, but she is rolling her shoulders in like she's giving herself a hug. Is the lower, crouching pose designed to seem more approachable to your younger reader base? We're all just gals here, just squattin'.

Not that Cookie was really all that great.

So until this whole print media/newspaper/magazine seismic-shift-in-the-media-industry thing sorts itself out, I am going to stop buying your fine products. It's the first time in many years that I haven't had a subscription to either Vogue or Vanity Fair. I am going to stick to blogs. (Some of these websites even resemble magazines. Have you seen Lonny?) The blogs, they are so much better, so much fresher, and they are not so much about squatting.

Take care and good luck with all that stuff.

xoxox

Becky

Like I Should Be Worried About Those Jerks

Today we got a letter from the bank that has our mortgage, and with whom we have a credit card. I don't even remember how we got this credit card. But back when we lived in CA, we had our checking with this bank too, because it's everywhere out west. It doesn't even exist in the east, so we've moved on. Anyway, we have no balance on the credit card and we never use it. The card itself is in a file folder. So, the letter said, "Dear Matthew, it is never easy to bring unpleasant news to one of our valued customers." It went on to say that they were lowering the credit limit on this unused card, lowering it about 75%, because their "periodic account reviews" determined it was "necessary." They were kind enough to enclose a brochure that "offers many tips and resources available to help you on the road to financial success." I had just taken a swig of my tea and did a partial spit take at that last part. Galling! And totally bogus.

So I called them and was quickly connected with somebody in card services. I said, "Hi Martin, it is never easy to bring unpleasant news to a bank, but I'm calling to cancel my card." He mumbled something. I think the poor guy had a cold. And you know how this is the point in the call where they always connect you to a "retention specialist" to try to cajole you into keeping the account open? I mean, that's the way that call goes. We haven't paid the annual fee on our airline rewards card in a long time using this method. Well, not with Martin. He did not want to play. It took about ten seconds for a card we've had for years to be closed down.

It gave me pause. After I hung up, I told Matt about it and said, "I'm worried about those guys. They must be in trouble." I know that banks everywhere are moving to cut their potential liability (i.e., the amount of credit their customers could use), but whoa. We have a mortgage with these people. A mortgage they saw fit to refinance for us not that long ago. But our little credit card was giving them the shakes. Matt said it made him wonder if they were going to sell our mortgage to someone. Like, what's going on out there? Troubling.

Do you think I should send a fruit basket? Or maybe one of those Pepperidge Farm sausages. Oh, and also they can go fuck themselves.

Bold Social Experimentation

I don't know if you're on the Facebook, but a few weeks ago I noticed something new. Over on the right side of the Home page, the one that has your news feed and all that, a little box of "Suggestions" has appeared, nominating friends that Facebook feels I'm not paying sufficient attention to, and offering ways I might reconnect with them. Have you seen this? Like, "You haven't talked on Facebook lately. Write on her wall." For me these helpful suggestions, rather than making me want to reach out to that friend, actually had something of an opposite effect. I asked my Facebook friends if they thought this Suggestions thing was weird. Here are a few highlights from that discussion:

• It is very weird. If I haven't talked to them in a while, Facebook, there's probably a good reason.
• Yes, here on my page the call to "Write on her wall" is preceded by "Make facebook better for her." Um, really?
• Ooh, my page just told me to "reconnect" with Speaker Pelosi. Nancy, you have a very fine invitation to play Wordpath coming your way.
• If you would stop ignoring your friends, you would not get that message.
• I find the suggestions extra creepy. It's one step away from "Shouldn't you get that laundry done today?" and "Did you really need that second piece of cake after dinner?"
• "Your friend has been down lately. Encourage her."
• My page keeps telling me that my mom only has 9 friends, and I should suggest more for her. It makes me feel kind of bad every time I see it, even though I know she only wants 9 friends.
• "Your friend has no Farmtown neighbors. Stop the hurting. And call your mother. Why are you so selfish?"
• "You know that guy that you're facebook friends with 'cause he's married to your friend and it would be rude not to accept his friend request? Even though you think he's a tool and you think your friend could do MUCH better than the guy who cheats on her and would rather drink a fifth of whiskey than help her take care of their kids? Why doncha poke him?"

So the consensus seemed to be, yes, it is weird to receive friendship tips from Facebook Central Command. What struck me about the little suggestions was their imperative tone: "Write on her wall. Reconnect with her. Help make Facebook better for her. Help her find friends. Welcome her." Finally, I just caved. OKAY, ALREADY! I will reconnect and make Facebook better for all of them! I am only one woman but I will try! GEEZ.

I decided that maybe I should just do everything that Facebook said. Everytime I saw a new suggestion, I clicked over to fulfill its demand. I drew the line at friending people I did not know simply because we had mutual friends in common (everyone knows that a high percentage of those people are People You Hate, because if you have that many friends in common but you aren't friends already, well. . .), and I didn't "Become a Fan" of obscure things that my friends are fans of. I remain a fan of three things on Facebook: Michele Obama (hey girl), The Backyardigans, and Papa John's Pizza, for reasons that are between the Papa and me.

So I clicked, I wrote on walls, I reconnected. I let the love flow. I figured Facebook might know what's good for me and that, like when George Costanza decides to be "Opposite George," good and surprising things might happen. Mostly it was fun to go around and visit the pages of friends I don't chat with that much. I really hesitated, though, when it got to Nancy Pelosi. Yes, the Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. She has a Facebook page and we are friends. And two other Facebook friends of mine are her friends (hey Gretchen), which means, of course, that when I gave in to Facebook's demand and wrote on Speaker Pelosi's wall, our two mutual friends would see that I had done that, and I would feel like a giant tool. Not that you're really a tool if you're into writing on the walls of famous public figures, but you are kinda. I did write on her wall, though. It was the Monday after the late-night health care vote in the House, and I left her a chirpy rah-rah note. I'm sure she was heartened by it.

Okay, so I did that for a few days. And did it work? Did flowers bloom in the desert of my neglected Facebook relationships?

Nope. Everyone except one person ignored me. One of the people who ignored me was my mom. The friend who did acknowledge my overture was an old boyfriend. I wrote on his wall to tell him that Facebook kept wanting me to suggest friends for him, but that I figured he wanted to be left alone, but that he should let me know if he requires assistance in that regard. He replied, "Thank you for your concern, but Smeagol and I are both perfectly happy here with our precious." That made me laugh. Thanks for that, Facebook.

It dawned on me eventually, duh, that what this little suggestion feature does is to generate more clicks and visits to Facebook. You get a message that some dude you used to work with has sent you a hatching egg, even though you haven't talked in a long time and you don't really have a hatching egg relationship, so you wait patiently for the egg to hatch, and then when it does, it's a teddy bear holding a sign that says "Be My Geisha." So who wins in that situation, except Facebook?*

Anyway, guys, thanks for making the internet better for me. We are going up to the mountain house this afternoon to stay more or less all next week. My brother and sister-in-law will be there, which will be a great time. I'm bringing my 30 Day Shred DVD, a new Little People nativity set I got for Hank, liquor, and magazines. Also the dog has had a bath, so life is good. I'll be checking in and blogging one way or another. Have a great weekend and don't forget to reconnect. Or even poke someone.

*Actually, my friend David sent me that exact teddy bear one Valentine's Day, and I have never stopped giggling about it.