I suppose I should post something before you start wondering if I am actually going to prison. Last year, my birthday may have been The Most Exciting Day of the Year on Facebook, but this year the best birthday greeting was a video message from my favorite superhero. Click on Spider-Man’s picture to view the video.
My most recommended movies on Netflix are prison documentaries. The dynamics and social organization of prisons have always fascinated me. Minus the overarching violence, implicit gang and drug activity, and being in close proximity to felons and murderers, I find several other aspects of prison life extremely appealing. Here are the reasons why I would not mind going to prison.
If you know my halo-donning eighty pound puppy who greets you at full speed with a nose-inspection of your pant pockets, you are immediately shocked that this lovable creature would be unfairly banned from all franchise locations of Central Bark for the rest of his life. While the specifics of the “incident” that led to his dismissal were never fully disclosed to me, I’ve concluded that an employee’s ineptitude or another dog’s provocation forced Mack to engage in said inappropriate behavior. I also have suspicions revolving around the manager’s efforts to permanently remove a blog post titled, Dogs Hump #Fact, from the World Wide Web once he discovers the author’s identity. Whatever the case may be, Mack is entirely faultless.
Last week, I drove all the way from Lombardy Road to good ol’ Lombard, Illinois for the Chicago Talent Acquisition Summit. Though I’d prefer to withhold this useful information & remain more knowledgeable than the rest, my experience dictates that I share my words of wisdom (or lack thereof).
I am not an easy person to live in the same house with. Ask my mother. Ask my college roommates. Despite major flaws in my cohabitating skills, my brother has been outrageously giving towards an often un-talkative and moody me. If I mentioned that I was going to eat breakfast soon, he would get out a bowl and pour the cereal. If we were both heading for the shower, he’d extend his hand and say Please, as in, You go first. Whenever we interacted with each other, he would honor my wants and needs before his own.
When he said he was going to have hip surgery that would leave him slightly disabled for a few months, I thought Yes! This is my chance to be good to him! I told him I would take care of him.
Before you congratulate me—and before I was even able to congratulate myself—on what a fabulous sister I am, please note my internal reaction to the date of the surgery (July 5th). First, that’s going to interfere with my Fourth of July plans. i.e. staying up late for the fireworks and then sleeping in on Tuesday morning. Second, my mom will be out of town. That makes me the nurse on duty. Philanthropic moment officially over.
During my sophomore year of college, I was using my procrastination skills to avoid an English essay when I logged onto Facebook to stalk a few of my favorite people. When I logged on, I was mortified to discover a “News Feed” on the main page that publicized all the content I posted and all the actions I was making in real-time. Panic set in: Oh no, was Adam (i.e. cute guy from Econ 101) going to know that I had his profile page open for almost ten minutes during lunch?!?
Amidst this momentous (and slightly traumatic) event in the lives of Facebook veterans like myself, I could never had predicted what I’d be doing just few years later. Ironically enough, it is now my job to be on Facebook and carry out the social media strategy for my client. Good thing Mark Zuckerberg promised us that no one would ever know how long you were gazing at someone else’s profile and I decided not to deactivate my account. However, Facebook and I almost broke up a few years later when I called my mother for our weekly phone conversation. She started by saying “So I was on Facebook…”
WHAT!?!? You were on WHAT!?!?
If you ask me the last time I cried (at any point in time), I will probably say yesterday or the day before yesterday. I’ll round down my average cries per year to every other day. I think crying gets a bad rep as a result of runny make up, swollen and red eyes. Crying may take a physical toll on your face, but it’s great for the soul. It’s okay to cry…
When Babies Are Born
I watch TLC’s A Baby Story. I am fascinated by couples who decide to have children together, yet alone those that let a camera crew follow them into the delivery room. When I see that blue little creature, cord still connected with all the goo on him, my tears are flowing for the next seven minutes until the end of the show. I’ve never seen a live birth, but if I did I think I might be screaming instead of crying.
When Moms Cry
If my mom started crying about a crooked rug in her living room, I would cry. If you love your mother, you would cry too.
My sister & I watch The Bachelor every week. Every time the Chris Harrison asks, “Would you like to date the next bachelor or bachelorette? Go to abc.com and click apply.” My sister raises her eyebrows and says, “Ali, this is your chance!”
As you know, I like to make my own rules. And when those don’t work out, I just make my own rules again. I’ve given the idea some thought and have developed a game plan for being on the Bachelor. If I don’t get my shot, maybe you will.
1. Make An Entrance
The “first impression” does go a long way. After all, Ali gave Roberto the first impression rose. Try not to trip on the cobblestone on your way out of the limo. Be sure to think of something clever to say (and try not to make it look too rehearsed). Make him remember you. And make sure you don’t have anything on your butt. He is watching you walk away while desperately trying to remember your name.
Connor will keep talking through an entire meal, whether the adults are listening or not. My sister told a story during dinner and I responded with my reaction. As I was talking, my sister’s and brother-in-law’s eyes widen & they tried to conceal their smiles. I wondered what I missed until Connor declared, “Bad word, Al.” I realized that I used the word “stupid.” Connor continued to scold me, “That’s bad behavior, Al.”
While my bad-word-barometer might be more lenient than Connor’s, I have to say that most curse words sound bad (and taste a little icky), whether they come from a well-behaved three-year-old or an oblivious twenty-four-year-old aunt.
Yes, blogoversary is actually a word. I’m fairly certain that I’m using it in the proper context.
On January 6th, 2010, my first blog post was published on Recruitalicious. That’s when my love affair with writing and imagined stardom began… Since launching Miss Early Bird in April, I’ve managed to write (at least) one post per month for the last year. Although I promised to focus on “careers and social media” I trended towards the “thought-provoking” (I hope) and embarrassingly personal. By fall, I was so addicted to seeing my name in print that I submitted a post to Women of HR.