tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-281852982024-03-13T13:10:01.750-05:00Life is RANTastic!Reflections of a Rock ChickThe Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.comBlogger503125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-58533445453336467382009-05-17T19:50:00.005-05:002010-07-21T07:50:30.136-05:00Movin' On Up!To a <em>deeee</em>-luxe apartment in the sky!!<br /><br />Life is <strong>RANT</strong>astic! has relocated to <strong><a href="http://jessicasieghart.com">http://jessicasieghart.com</a></strong> <br /><br />Please update your bookmarks and follow me over there!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com88tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-54669307360956050612009-05-14T10:09:00.006-05:002009-05-14T10:24:18.833-05:00Life Is A HighwayI had the best intentions of writing this post yesterday, but I was so excited to finally have a locksmith show up with a <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://lifeisrantastic.blogspot.com/2009/05/brand-new-key.html">key to my Jeep</a></span> that I decided to celebrate by taking it for a ride around town. I was enjoying a warm, spring drive with the windows rolled down when my <span style="font-style:italic;">wardrobe malfunctioned</span> and the wind blew the handkerchief I was wearing as a top right off my body! <span style="font-weight:bold;">OH NO!</span> In a frantic effort not to expose myself to the Windy City, I grasped for the fluttering garment and accidentally knocked my shiny tiara right off my head. It landed resting on my nose and the sun glaring off the glistening diamonds had me seeing spots for several hours. I couldn’t see clearly to write my post. A <span style="font-weight:bold;">CAT</span><span style="font-style:italic;">astrophe</span>, indeed. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Things like this should not happen in America!</span> I tried to call The Wiseman Donald for help, but he was otherwise occupied determining the 21st century’s definition of pornography. This is great news because I think the Hysteria Lane red light camera caught the whole incident and I’m running for “<span style="font-weight:bold;">Miss RANTastic America</span>” next week. I’d hate for those pictures to be released for publication and ruin my chances. My platform is “<span style="font-style:italic;">CatBoots For Everyone!</span>” I’m really excited about it. <br /><br />Seriously, I’m finding the coverage of the Miss California USA debacle absolutely hysterical. Major news networks interrupted normal coverage to air the decision regarding Carrie Prejean’s pageant fate to the universe, even though she didn’t win the bigger title and really, would probably be only appearing at local charity functions and at schools giving children important lessons about the US Constitution. Like this: <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rnQHdh1ujkY&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rnQHdh1ujkY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Ummmmm Carrie, darling, sorry to be the one to burst your bubble, but the First Amendment protects your right to freedom of speech <span style="font-weight:bold;">from government interference and constraint</span>. It does not protect you from beauty pageant judges, Satan, bloggers who scribble often funny, but, yes, sometimes obscene words over celebrity pictures, the paparazzi and sometimes even worse, it does not protect you from a response to your words from the general American public, like me. <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://lifeisrantastic.blogspot.com/2009/04/is-this-thing-loaded.html">Who, by the way, really thinks you lost not because of the content of your answer, but because you didn’t answer the question posed to you and decided to take advantage of an opportunity to express your personal opinion when it wasn’t even asked.</a></span> (I know, <span style="font-style:italic;">phew!</span>) <br /><br />All that matters is if the government is interfering with your right to free speech, so unless some secret government faction whisked you off in the night and threatened, tortured and/or imprisoned you, you are not being punished for your statement, you are learning a valuable lesson that freedom of speech does not equal freedom from consequences. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Life is a highway, my dear, not a one way street. </span><br /><br />Imagine that you just steered your car off that one way street and are now driving down a major boulevard through the United States of America. The traffic is not just moving freely in opposite directions, there’s a whole lotta stuff going on in those intersections, as well. That’s why they have red lights on occasion. They force you to stop, pay attention to what’s going on and give people who are traveling in a different direction the ability to move forward at times. Sometimes this happens without incident and other times, there are major crashes. <br /><br />On the road of life, some of the drivers passing you will give a friendly wave and some will give you the finger and that’s ok. <span style="font-weight:bold;">It does and should happen in America, no matter what you look like. </span><br /><br />Phew! Now that that’s done, I’m free to tackle other important issues like tongue lashing both Jon and Kate Gosselin.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-64240422093270912982009-04-25T16:38:00.004-05:002009-05-11T09:00:13.165-05:00Culture Club<span style="font-weight:bold;">I have some exciting news</span>! No, Boy George didn’t ask me to sing with him on a remake of Karma Chameleon. <span style="font-style:italic;">Even better!!!</span> I’ve been asked to be a regular contributor to a blog I much admire...<span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://diversityink.blogspot.com">Diversity Ink</a></span>. I can’t even tell you how excited and honored I am to be asked to write with this group.<br /><br />Earlier this year, my friend Malcolm of <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://popculturedish.blogspot.com">Pop Culture Dish</a> </span>opened Diversity Ink along with several other top notch bloggers. His hope for Diversity Ink is as follows: <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“One of the reasons the racial divide continues is that members of a particular ethnicity may talk amongst each other about race issues, but not to members outside their race. Also, because race is such a sensitive issue, people are reluctant to come out in the open with any of their views, questions, etc. My hope is that Diversity Ink might lead to the bridging of the divide and the breaking down of some of these walls.”</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgfKDthAe7PwDtZ3rw4UEZwz_YGnHWCV_gViP1k1-0mALDm4_vl-6b_Fn1HotVGqXS6Z9BVlkE2RsSujzsXI1fwSYKsOA3YIA6jYkxNBztSLjJN2aPnZ1D82ehXDhIu8p58p5xA/s1600-h/DI.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgfKDthAe7PwDtZ3rw4UEZwz_YGnHWCV_gViP1k1-0mALDm4_vl-6b_Fn1HotVGqXS6Z9BVlkE2RsSujzsXI1fwSYKsOA3YIA6jYkxNBztSLjJN2aPnZ1D82ehXDhIu8p58p5xA/s400/DI.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328747230943912098" /></a><br />My first contribution to Diversity Ink is entitled <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://diversityink.blogspot.com/2009/04/black-and-blue.html">Black and Blue</a></span> and it's about the traffic stop involving Ryan Moats and a Dallas police officer. Head on over there, check it out and let me know what you think!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-43690105715895264882009-05-09T09:16:00.009-05:002009-05-09T15:01:31.180-05:00Cuckoo's Nest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6XdWnBucfuAz3BQal-MgJd8IeQv1K9yQGXdb0xJYyN6l6mvJ3YJIgnIKR3WQESyEMuvbXlaqcpM5-09CmWlmFBsXz97lOmj3n_J633vftN586hSjGa6mFDuUzIIeiNY4krGaAw/s1600-h/cat+kick+ass+sticker.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 186px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6XdWnBucfuAz3BQal-MgJd8IeQv1K9yQGXdb0xJYyN6l6mvJ3YJIgnIKR3WQESyEMuvbXlaqcpM5-09CmWlmFBsXz97lOmj3n_J633vftN586hSjGa6mFDuUzIIeiNY4krGaAw/s200/cat+kick+ass+sticker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333829848812566258" /></a>Yesterday I told you about one of the <span style="font-style:italic;">Jessi</span><span style="font-weight:bold;">CAT</span><span style="font-style:italic;">astrophic</span> events that happened this week, <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://http://lifeisrantastic.blogspot.com/2009/05/brand-new-key.html">my missing key</a></span>. Before I go continue, the law requires me to post the following notice: <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Dear Mr. Bon Jovi, <br /><br />No worries, it was just me who rode my bicycle past your window last night and roller skated past your door at daylight. Unfortunately, the locksmith didn’t show up with my Brand New Key so I ride my bike, I roller skate and don’t drive no car. I don’t go too fast, but I go pretty far. <br /><br />Pursuingly, The Rock Chick </span><br /><br />Yeah. Seriously. He didn’t show, (<span style="font-weight:bold;">ARRRRRGH!</span>) but he did call in the evening and told me that I get to wait for him all day on Wednesday now. The economy sucks, businesses are closing or filing bankruptcy day every day and yet, I can’t seem to get anybody who advertises themselves as an “<span style="font-style:italic;">emergency auto locksmith</span>” to work and I’m just supposed to accept that, I guess. <br /><br />This is exactly the opposite mentality of my job. My customer service job has become nothing short of a freak show featuring me, center ring, standing on my head and attempting to pull all sorts of things out of my ass in order to please our customers. <br /><br />Because insurance is an intangible item and hopefully, one doesn’t find the need to file many claims, many people believe that they give their insurance company money for nothing. I hear this day in and day out and I try my best to explain to the customers that they are purchasing protection in case “shit happens”. The economy is tight, I get that. People don’t have money and I can’t say paying my insurance premiums is high on my list of enjoyable activities, either. Then again, neither is dealing with buttholes and they all seem to be out these days, forcing me to want to scream “<span style="font-weight:bold;">Holy Bat Shit, Batman</span>” and hermit myself to the comfy and safe nest I’ve assembled in the CATcave. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Disclaimer: Unlike my caped crusader friend, I really don't have a animalistic alter ego, I just pretend I do online. </span><br /><br />This past week alone, I have been called very, very bad names (<span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://lifeisrantastic.blogspot.com/2009/04/is-this-thing-loaded.html">Perez Hilton, was that you?</a></span>), sworn at and threatened with physical harm over customer’s insurance premiums. I had a spat (spit?) with one customer who came into the office wildly upset that his neighbor is receiving a multi-car discount and he is not. He only has one car policy, <span style="font-style:italic;">which I might add to this story had lapsed a month prior for non-payment of premium</span>. He demanded a single car discount, which of course, doesn’t exist. (The whole point of multi-car or multi-line discounts is so that you bring all of your policies to one company.)<br /><br />Red faced and hands flailing, he insisted I add the “single car discount”. I couldn't because it doesn’t exist. Then he demanded that I remove whatever commission was factored into the premium. I couldn't do that either because a) I have no idea what that is, b) it would be considered rebating and it’s illegal and c) insurance agents are supposed to work for free now? <br /><br />I was very nice, even apologizing that I could do none of these things for him when he pulled the old standard, “<span style="font-style:italic;">Let me tell you, I’ve shopped around and found way better rates someplace else</span>”. I hear this day in and day out as well and while it does happen sometimes (not often, really), it’s normally because all insurance policies and companies are not created equal. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Butthole: "So you WILL do something for me or I will take my business elsewhere." </span><br /><br />At this point, I really wanted to tell the guy that technically, <span style="font-weight:bold;">he didn’t even have any business here</span>. His one auto policy has lapsed over a month ago, but I’m a nice person so I offered to look over the quote he was given by this other insurance company to see if we were looking at something even comparable. Of course it wasn’t, but even worse, this guy was considering leaving the pleasantness of his good neighborly type insurance company for <span style="font-weight:bold;">THIS</span> place. Enjoy. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OyJXxnJKWkE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OyJXxnJKWkE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Perhaps this gentleman and The Eagle Man both share a love of blowing smoke out their ass, I don’t know. I question the judgement of anyone who would actually call that company after seeing that commercial. That’s just, well, f<span style="font-style:italic;">reakin' cuckoo.</span> <br /><br />Butthole demanded the same rates. I showed him that they are only offering him the state minimum coverage and if that’s what he’d like here, he can have it (and for less money, too!) but I couldn’t recommend that because I knew this guy owned a house insured with another company. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Driving is very risky!</span> If he’d like to leave himself open to losing his home as a result of an accident, then by all means, go with the state minimum coverage. If not, then I would recommend him leaving his policy as it is. <span style="font-style:italic;">Well, except for the lapsed status.</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Spat ensues</span>. More of a spit, actually. He screamed, he yelled, he flailed and demanded I give him the higher coverage for the lower rate or I’m not going to like what happens. The only thing I told him I was about to do at that point was to call 911 and ...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMpMQiIipGNKasVD7dmy1D180rtQTNI-Wvxeht6ScbW5RM7XDax1etYzn10FuA7HELYH7mZqjZ7CbvHusNrbkGocy3ikXAvP4boS_ernMHqMz0t9Cf_gdrSKNwEkIOPg2E-M8sQ/s1600-h/6a00c2251c7d24604a00e398eee7000004-320pi.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 243px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMpMQiIipGNKasVD7dmy1D180rtQTNI-Wvxeht6ScbW5RM7XDax1etYzn10FuA7HELYH7mZqjZ7CbvHusNrbkGocy3ikXAvP4boS_ernMHqMz0t9Cf_gdrSKNwEkIOPg2E-M8sQ/s400/6a00c2251c7d24604a00e398eee7000004-320pi.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333915933119633266" /></a><br />There is was. <span style="font-style:italic;">He wasn’t only blowing smoke out his ass</span>, he was spitting right at me. As I picked up the phone to call the police, he fled and I cursed, “swearapy style” and sprayed myself off with Lysol straight from the can. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!</span>swineflu.swineflu.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">SWINE FREAKING FLU!</span><br /><br />The best part about this story is that the guy called back the next day <span style="font-weight:bold;">wanting to know if I would write his homeowner’s insurance policy so he would be eligible for a multi-line discount. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">WTF?</span> NO you freak and I’m telling you, if he comes in again, he’s going to find out what “<span style="font-weight:bold;">I’ve got something for YOOOOOOOU!</span>” actually means. <br /><br />Surgical removal of a Catboot heel. Not pleasant at all. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I hope he has insurance for that.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-78547501586304868682009-04-29T13:04:00.005-05:002009-04-29T13:12:34.468-05:00June Is Bustin' Out All Over<span style="font-style:italic;"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGSGE41JFwHp1rbkvAm05sVn9maps6kKGKk1PrJT2mRjdiXFpj-6_CaIkqi8EC5rYTqZ2STWeImBrUHYzfig4j_2EW6FlMhi20VkLxYGImisSk0tCiNlVm4VO6yFe94BJvlfqNA/s1600-h/images-1.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGSGE41JFwHp1rbkvAm05sVn9maps6kKGKk1PrJT2mRjdiXFpj-6_CaIkqi8EC5rYTqZ2STWeImBrUHYzfig4j_2EW6FlMhi20VkLxYGImisSk0tCiNlVm4VO6yFe94BJvlfqNA/s200/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330175963686887554" /></a>One April may have cried and stepped aside and a May might not have kept her promises, but a certain TV “June” is bustin’ out all over!<br /><br />It isn’t June Cleaver, but close. <span style="font-style:italic;">It’s Shirley Partridge!</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shirley_Jones">Shirley Jones</a></span>, the Flower Power TV Supermom, always there for her children with a smile, a song and a stenciled school bus, <span style="font-weight:bold;">will be appearing topless (at age 75) in an upcoming episode of A&E’s “The Cleaner”. </span><br /><br />Jones will portray a “<span style="font-weight:bold;">washed up, alcoholic chanteuse</span>” (<span style="font-style:italic;">it’s ok, I had to look it up, too</span>) who attempts to convince her husband that they should go to an AA group or rehab or something. He feels he is too old, so she throws open her bouquets and asks if he’s too old for...well, her buttercups. <span style="font-style:italic;">OK?</span> No, not with me! <span style="font-weight:bold;">That's definitely not <a href="http://http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oklahoma!_(film)">OK!</a></span> <br /><br />I admit, I might just be <span style="font-style:italic;">a little jealous</span> since nobody is blowing 76 trombones over my own AA (size, not group) cups, but why, Shirley, <span style="font-style:italic;">why would you do this</span>? <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Did that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Bratt">Bratt Benjamin</a> only offer the part as All Er Nothin?</span> <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">You definitely weren’t the girl who Cain’t Say No!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">You don’t know what you’re up against<br />You don’t know what it’s all about<br />You’ve got so much to think about...</span><br /><br />Are you trying to shed your Marian The Librarian image? You already did that, Mrs. P, when you won an Academy Award for your performance as a prostitute in Elmer Gantry. <br /><br />You’re <span style="font-style:italic;">an icon</span> to many of us so called Rock Chick’s (who also adore musical theater and Partridge tunes), but never mind me. <span style="font-weight:bold;">What will your children and grandchildren think?</span> Their hearts might just stand still and not in a Da Doo Ron Ron way.<br /><br />Shirley, <span style="font-style:italic;">please reconsider</span>. I KNOW I Loved You when you were worried that people would even say you’re in love. <span style="font-weight:bold;">I can’t even imagine what they’re going to say about this!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-73314342295959300912009-04-24T08:37:00.003-05:002009-04-24T08:46:33.005-05:00Breaker, Breaker<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAkHsPjQoZVdbA4t6yrp__c8zdfSMKbY6LON0wez961w-kDZoF4CrS4y2t_2gBQ8U6FsWmp3zKZ_HQMx0oPXSYLOcTaCRP2lYeJg4CZw5xJnCfPNuMGl5b5zeX0o94OGZa4TaJg/s1600-h/break-glass.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAkHsPjQoZVdbA4t6yrp__c8zdfSMKbY6LON0wez961w-kDZoF4CrS4y2t_2gBQ8U6FsWmp3zKZ_HQMx0oPXSYLOcTaCRP2lYeJg4CZw5xJnCfPNuMGl5b5zeX0o94OGZa4TaJg/s200/break-glass.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328251817217039442" /></a>A long, long time ago my sister and I were given a set of walkie talkies. They were blue and had a distinct plastic electronic smell. We used to use them when we were “<span style="font-style:italic;">out in the field</span>”, either attempting to solve neighborhood mysteries Nancy Drew style for our make believe police department or seeking information to write up in our self-published newspaper, <span style="font-weight:bold;">The Eyeball Gazette</span>. Based on that title, you can tell we had the imagination and the determination thing down, but the creativity skills were admittedly a little lacking. <br /><br />One day, my sister and I were talking and somehow we crossed signals with another kid who probably had the same set of walkie-talkies. He couldn’t have been far, but for some reason I was thrilled with the thought of picking up some sort of device and being able to talk to someone like that. <span style="font-style:italic;">Yes, the telephone had been invented at that time!</span> It just didn’t have the same appeal. You knew who you were talking to on the telephone. It took the mystery right out of it. <br /><br />I soon learned of CB radios. I remember playing with one with my dad once. We had made a list of all of the cool CB talk we had heard on TV shows so we didn’t sound like dorks, although, using a CB in your basement was probably dorky. <span style="font-style:italic;">I was like 10. What did I know?</span> It should come as no surprise that once the internet made it’s appearance, I was hooked. I loved chat rooms, particularly one called Moms Online on <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.aol.com">AOL</a></span>. I chatted for hours with other moms from all over the US, Canada and England. Not only did I meet new people, it was so much easier to stay in touch with old friends via email. I still enjoy e-mail. I like that you never catch anyone at a bad time and even though few share my appreciation of forwarded jokes, I like them because it means someone thought of me. <span style="font-style:italic;">I’m sappy that way</span>. <br /><br />When I got my first pager, I was thrilled. Now anyone could get me anywhere at anytime, no matter where I was or what I was doing. My husband used to send me cute little notes via the pager sometimes.<span style="font-weight:bold;"> I adored it</span>. All of this led, of course, to the modern day cell phone, my iPhone, complete with apps that let me access all my favorite social networking things like blogs, Facebook and Twitter. I love that I can snap a picture and send it to anyone in an instant. <span style="font-style:italic;">Text messaging?</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">LOVE IT!!! </span><br /><br />To me, these are all wonderful things and used with good intentions, <span style="font-style:italic;">like I use them</span>, they are. Lately, though, I’ve been witnessing a lot of just plain bad and unacceptable behavior happening with these things and I find that terribly sad. <br /><br />One of my daughters got into a little spat with a friend and the next thing she knew, there were a barrage of text messages from this friend saying a lot of terrible things and calling her names. It then spread to Facebook. My daughter responded probably much more brazenly than she would have, as well, had this conversation taken place face to face or even over the telephone. <span style="font-weight:bold;">It’s hard to undo those fighting words, especially when they’re in print and like a thousand friends have read them, as well. </span><br /><br />I remember the shock of a “Sex And The City” episode where Carrie’s boyfriend, Berger, broke up with her via Post-It-Note, the non-technical equivalent of today’s mainstream “breakup via text message” phenomenon. Of course, Dear John/Jane letters have been in existence forever, but at least they provided a lengthy explanation of the heartbreaker’s reasoning. <span style="font-style:italic;">But to end a relationship in 160 characters or less?</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Disheartening, disgusting and despicable and rather cruel. </span><br /><br />It seems as though it’s more commonplace that I had thought. Researching this topic a bit, I learned that a lot of people think this is an “ok method” to ending relationships and that Britney and Kevin Federline broke up via text message, along with Carrie Underwood and Chase Crawford. Even Jessica Simpson has been dump via text. A Saudi Arabian man <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://news.aol.com/article/text-message-divorce/421864">was granted a divorce</a></span> after notifying his wife through a text message that he no longer wished to be married to her. All he had to do was text this desire to two other people and POOF...it was over. <br /><br />No one seems immune to this. <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.bravotv.com/the-real-housewives-of-new-york-city">The Real Housewives of NYC</a></span>’s <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LuAnn_de_Lesseps">Countess LuAnn de Lesseps</a></span> recently authored a book about Good Manners and Etiquette. It seems her husband, The Count, must not have read it because <span style="font-style:italic;">he told her about his affair and ended their 16 year marriage <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.realitytea.com/tag/luann-de-lesseps-divorce/">via e-mail</a></span>. </span><br /><br />I'm curious. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Have any of you ever broken up or even ended a friendship with someone via email or text messaging or know anyone who has? Have you ever said something to someone in a text or an email that you would not have said having a face-to-face conversation? Have you ever written something on a social networking site, like Facebook or Twitter, that you now wish you could take back? </span><br /><br />I think if I ever did, I would stop using these things. I think they are wonderful if used positively, but if I personally experience the negative side, <span style="font-weight:bold;">I’d be shattered</span> and probably want to stop using them. <span style="font-style:italic;">It would be a deal breaker, for sure. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-37153118976955043172009-04-23T12:26:00.002-05:002009-04-23T12:31:28.923-05:00Is This Thing Loaded?Because I’m so late in writing this post, I’m sure you’re already familiar with the new reality saga (appearing on TV and Twitter messages everywhere), <span style="font-style:italic;">Blogger vs. Beauty</span>, starring Perez Hilton and Miss California USA 2009, Carrie Prejean. If you haven’t, you can watch the clip below. <br /><br />Perez posed to the following to Miss California: “<span style="font-weight:bold;">Vermont recently became the fourth state to legalize same-sex marriage. Do you think every state should follow suit, why or why not?</span>”<br /><br />And Miss California replied: "<span style="font-weight:bold;">Well, I think it's great Americans are able to choose one or the other," she said. "Um, we live in a land that you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage. And you know what in my country, in my family, I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anybody out there, but that's how I was raised and that's how I think that it should be, between a man and a woman</span>."<br /><br />This response drew a <span style="font-style:italic;">most loaded</span> look of disgust from Perez Hilton, who proceeded to give her a score of 0 on the interview portion, which some speculate cost her the crown. He has since shot himself in the foot by calling her a dumb “b-word” while admitting he was thinking “c-word” at the time. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Not, not, not acceptable, Perez</span>, and firing off derogatory names and insults is not going to enlighten anyone to your point of view. <span style="font-style:italic;">Get your finger off the trigger</span>. <br /><br />Interview is a big part of the scoring process, though. No doubt, it’s nerve wracking and there’s also no doubt that the bullets loaded into those questions are not always the same caliber. That being said, I do not think she lost that crown solely because of her personal opinion. Her response was poorly worded, didn’t really answer the question and was wishy-washy. <br /><br />Slide up and re-read the question that was posed to her. <span style="font-style:italic;">She was not asked if she supported same sex marriage</span>. <span style="font-weight:bold;">She was asked if she thought every state should follow the decision already made by four states.</span> That’s not the same thing. <br /><br />This is an equality question. Marriage laws and definitions are decided by each individual state and states do not have to recognize marriages that do not coincide with their own marriage laws. The Defense of Marriage act Also states that the federal government may not treat same-sex relationships as marriages, even if it is recognized by any of the states. So, basically, even if you reside in a state that considers you married, good luck trying to file a joint tax return. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">She has the law and the Prop 8 decision (from her very own state) on her side to answer this question “No”</span>, which is according to her beliefs. Instead she chooses to answer that she thinks “it’s great” that Americans can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage, (a term I admit I’ve never heard before) and then completely 180’s and says that in her country and in her family, she thinks she believes that marriage should be between a man and a woman. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">In order for it to be great that people can choose, the option has to be available, no?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">So, she agrees that the other states should follow suit?</span> It sounds like it. Oh wait, here comes the next sentence. She <span style="font-weight:bold;">thinks she believes</span> that marriage should be between a man and a woman. <span style="font-style:italic;">Well, do you or don’t you? Even if you do, do you still support the choice for others statement that you just made? </span><br /><br />Does she think that other states should legalize same-sex marriage? I don’t know. I’m thinking not, but she never answered the question and her statements contradict each other. <br /><br />I’m willing to bet that she received lower interview scores than did the winner across the board. Miss North Carolina, who won, was asked a question regarding bailouts. Her beliefs were in direct contrast to current policies set forth by the government and in opposition to the President. I didn’t necessarily agree with her response, either, but she answered the question posed to her and didn’t fire a blank or worse, miss the target. Miss California lost because of the way she answered the question, not because of her personal opinion. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/o0eIurM4MEM&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/o0eIurM4MEM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-1800518833259427432009-04-19T11:46:00.009-05:002009-04-19T12:21:56.519-05:00Pretty UglyThere’s a part of me that will always remain forever young. I’m admittedly fickle and I like trendy things, except for tattoos. (<span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> for the fickle!) <span style="font-weight:bold;">I can’t help it</span>. My favorite song changes from week to week. I don’t want costly furniture that I could never part with because of price and other than The CatBoots, I don’t want classic, timeless clothing that supposedly will “never” go out of style. <br /><br />Like this...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1w7R8AhXsWsCzRkxuAo3rHDSKmi06eIN0a3P1D_nS7kPxlISr-o90tENEtUaY2DgFW031iBIQOq36I2E04kacYGC9tF4EmIh0ZzOKi7lHuAsfst-dZue7xbs0orHJFZqYnQBrg/s1600-h/egads2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 345px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1w7R8AhXsWsCzRkxuAo3rHDSKmi06eIN0a3P1D_nS7kPxlISr-o90tENEtUaY2DgFW031iBIQOq36I2E04kacYGC9tF4EmIh0ZzOKi7lHuAsfst-dZue7xbs0orHJFZqYnQBrg/s400/egads2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326446281200554658" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">Egads</span></span>. Is this what Huey meant by “Hip To Be Square?” I adore yellow, but <span style="font-style:italic;">Holy Big Bird, Batman</span>! Was this family portrait taken at a desperate Stepford Wives fundraiser benefitting public television? I’m wondering how the mom’s dress will hold up after the trendy moms beat her silly for dressing her kid in that outfit. Hopefully, the dad wasn't too seriously injured during the Easter egg hunting accident on the golf course at the country club, either. He appears relatively unscathed except for the obvious PTSD that would cause him to appear in public in that getup. <br /><br />I’m getting off topic. Anyway, (since I like trendy), I know what’s happening with my kids and the things are lame, way cool items and those they must have to prevent ostracism from society. Having four trendy kids, my house is exploding with an accumulation of trendy crap from over the last two decades. <br /><br />So imagine my surprise when I asked my niece what she would like for her birthday and was told an “Uglydoll”. <span style="font-style:italic;">An uglydoll? </span><span style="font-weight:bold;">WTF is an uglydoll?</span> A sense of panic overwhelmed me. <span style="font-style:italic;">My kids don’t have uglydolls</span>. I feared we missed a stop or something!<br /><br />I was told that they are dolls that are <span style="font-style:italic;">so ugly, they’re cute</span>. Ok... I get it...like cabbage patch dolls, pug dogs and E.T.! <br /><br />Ummmm, no. I arrived at the specialty toy store selling these things and was grossly disappointed. <span style="font-style:italic;">They’re not so ugly that they’re cute</span>. <span style="font-weight:bold;">They’re just pretty ugly</span>. <span style="font-style:italic;">Soooo</span> not the same thing. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3Hrk1bthO03pAvMF02nWWSR9elaHLXOtt_9R-fhhRMATwQlU4Zqh7iMXd678l_GlM1lRUVkxHUmCeuG_A3s7g9d77dsqx7CS6HsewnZ1xV59R0kQlCkpFMEA_SX2wI9xzb8kIA/s1600-h/uglydolls.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 322px; height: 322px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3Hrk1bthO03pAvMF02nWWSR9elaHLXOtt_9R-fhhRMATwQlU4Zqh7iMXd678l_GlM1lRUVkxHUmCeuG_A3s7g9d77dsqx7CS6HsewnZ1xV59R0kQlCkpFMEA_SX2wI9xzb8kIA/s400/uglydolls.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326451712229931650" /></a><br /><br />These dolls (I use the term loosely) reminded me of a t-shirt I sewed in my 7th grade home economics class. Besides being about three sizes too small, I didn’t cut it correctly so the arm holes didn’t line up. The blue thread I chose rather clashed with the pink stretchy material, too. <br /><br />Had I the foresight, I could have just stuffed the shirt and bedazzled on an eye or three and be taking $20 a pop from the parents of tots and tweens. I could be living in my hermit cave surrounded by plush pink shag carpeting, disco balls and Bon Jovi posters, watching laserdiscs of “I Love The 80’s” on my gnarly 70” HDTV while tweeting my peeps on my iPhone.<span style="font-weight:bold;"> Sweet!!</span><br /><br />All this got me thinking that perhaps I’m a little to eager to follow the trend when perhaps I should be seeing about setting some myself. <span style="font-style:italic;">Perhaps something is in order to celebrate my upcoming blogiversary?</span><br /><br />I’d like to sleep on it, but I can’t. One of the kids popped a hole in my waterbed with an American Girl doll clothes hanger. <span style="font-style:italic;">What a mess! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Where’s my ShamWow</span>?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-20195406315589030162009-04-16T15:50:00.007-05:002009-04-17T09:19:38.423-05:00Bungle In The Jungle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEhKMgD5-LjW5Jn09eBflx1cozYKKobh4zGfdImSV_yPsVq9RdVE_xluZLCNiA0YlTIJe5NmgRvSbRuBSkjo4kKAL6K_qnNp7K1rffl7UXffpCu65WuogTUS0PQpJOjXQHYyzUXA/s1600-h/article_photo1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEhKMgD5-LjW5Jn09eBflx1cozYKKobh4zGfdImSV_yPsVq9RdVE_xluZLCNiA0YlTIJe5NmgRvSbRuBSkjo4kKAL6K_qnNp7K1rffl7UXffpCu65WuogTUS0PQpJOjXQHYyzUXA/s200/article_photo1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325396099914610978" /></a>As you may have noticed, I’ve been refraining from poking fun at celebrities lately. It’s not that I’ve been trying to become a nicer person or anything, it’s just that they haven’t been doing anything all that funny. Simple as that. <br /><br />Britney never goes out without underwear and jail must have reformed Paris because she’s just not all that fun anymore. Nicole has a baby now and Lindsey Lohan appears to be spiraling so badly out of control that it’s reached non-joke-able territories. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Thank goodness for Rod Blagojevich, that’s all I have to say</span>. <br /><br />Blago, Illinois’ hair brained, bungled governor, just can’t seem to stay out of the spotlight. Facing almost fingers and toes worth of federal charges (<span style="font-style:italic;">including trying to sell Barack Obama’s open senate seat</span>) that could probably land him several hundred or so years in prison, Blago has decided to use his last few months of freedom to appear on a reality show under the pretense of raising money for his defense, but we all know what a publicity whore he is. Who's he trying to kid?<br /><br />I’m not even sure he could assemble a “dream team”. (We’ve all heard the bleepin’ tapes, Blago.) <br /><br />Anyway, he is asking a judge permission to appear in “<span style="font-weight:bold;">I’m A Celebrity...Get Me Out Of Here!</span>”. They will drop off Blago in the heart of a Costa Rican jungle along with 9 other celebrities "to face fun and comedic challenges designed to test their survival skills." No word on the other celebrities yet, other than rumors one is Olympian Nanc-Knee Kerrigan. Seriously, to win a competition like that you need to be cunning, crafty and devious. The jungle in Costa Rica is home to a whole bunch of undesirables like biting ants, venomous spiders and poo slinging monkeys. <span style="font-weight:bold;">How could anyone be expected to compete against Blago who works with exactly that for a living?</span> It's really not fair. <br /><br />Understandably, people are upset about this. <span style="font-style:italic;">Maybe he won’t return?</span> <span style="font-style:italic;">Why should he get special passport privileges?</span><span style="font-style:italic;">What's going to happen to his hair with all that humidity?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Am I upset</span>? Not so much. The only thing I’m <span style="font-weight:bold;">really</span> upset about is that there’s been a show called “I’m A Celebrity...Get Me Out Of Here!” and I didn’t know about it! (<span style="font-weight:bold;">How could this happen?</span>) <br /><br />There will be plenty of episodes of “<span style="font-weight:bold;">Locked Up: Governor’s Edition</span>” coming up soon. In the meantime, if Blago wants to go bungle in a jungle while awaiting trial, <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">well, that’s all right by me</span>. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-80482974919006760502009-04-14T10:27:00.006-05:002009-04-14T14:29:44.332-05:00Tweedle-lee-dee-dee-dee<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVPcXuxzUJppfU96AN8oqgDZpxKGlRp-oUcFLak-13tMmMT8iJ0pTrsxSR_9TFqcqgj67X2jh33U7ACWbv-cIbVo2G8J3ykw-InQgnDxxjG-2-c5hvPpJbnbncWrx1UfWnvFS-AA/s1600-h/twitter-logo.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVPcXuxzUJppfU96AN8oqgDZpxKGlRp-oUcFLak-13tMmMT8iJ0pTrsxSR_9TFqcqgj67X2jh33U7ACWbv-cIbVo2G8J3ykw-InQgnDxxjG-2-c5hvPpJbnbncWrx1UfWnvFS-AA/s200/twitter-logo.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324569333827462642" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Tweet, Tweet!</span><br /><br />Because I <span style="font-weight:bold;">SO</span> rock the treetops <span style="font-weight:bold;">AND</span> my all-day-long iPhone chirping on Facebook just isn’t enough, I also hopped on the Twagon (<a href="http://www.twitter.com">Twitter</a> Wagon) and am starting to master flappin’ my wings in 120 characters or less. I know, I know, you get 140, but I learned you’re supposed to limit it to 120 in case you write something so fascinating that someone would want to “<span style="font-weight:bold;">RT</span>” ( re-tweet ) it. Needless to say, I am very <span style="font-weight:bold;">#wordy</span> and while that <span style="font-style:italic;">flies in the blogosphere</span>, in the Twitterverse, it's more akin to being a duck on the wrong side of a 10 gauge shotgun. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Thud.</span> <br /><br />I totally suck at <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com">Twitter</a></span>, but I’m determined. <br /><br />In order to experience Twitter to its fullest, you must follow others and be followed. I currently am following 115 people and have 69 followers. This seems to be a sufficient number for social networking and <span style="font-weight:bold;">RANT</span>astic possibilities, but it’s not. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Why?</span> (No worries, I’ll tell you.) <br /><br />1. I’m following people (<span style="font-style:italic;">ok, celebrities</span>) who are not following me. (Except for Yoko Ono. She even sent me a message!) I can see what these celebs write, but they don’t see what I write. If I respond directly to them, they can see that, but, they probably have 800,000+ people sending them messages. I say the chance of conversation is pretty nil.<br />2. If I’m being honest, the vast majority of people I’m following are just not all that interesting. <br />3. <span style="font-style:italic;">Even worse</span>, a lot of the people following me couldn’t care less about anything I’m tweeting. They want numbers, so they are just following people in the hopes of being followed.<br /><br />I’m finding Twitter to be like every little swallow, every chickadee and every little bird in a tall oak tree are singing away and wondering if anyone is really listening to anybody else? <span style="font-weight:bold;">Sometimes it seems kind of lonely.</span> <br /><br />It’s not all bad, though. The top celebs on my Twitterlist are <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://twitter.com/michaelianblack">Michael Ian Black</a></span> (hysterical!) <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/aplusk">Ashton</a></span> and <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/mrskutcher">Demi</a></span> (who are actually entertaining), along with <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/perezhilton">Perez Hilton</a></span>, <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/drdrew">Dr Drew</a></span>, <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/moonfrye">Soleil Moon Frye</a></span>, one of my favorite authors,<span style="font-weight:bold;"> <a href="http://www.twitter.com/altgeldshrugged">Jen Lancaster</a></span>, and blogger extraordinaire, <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/dragonblogger">Dragonblogger</a></span>. I can always understand what these people write and they usually come up with something clever, funny or endearing to say....<span style="font-style:italic;">err, tweet.</span> <br /><br />The least interesting person I follow is <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/OfficeChair">Office Chair</a></span> who reports on his farting activity. Yes, it’s true. The only reason I followed him was because I was relatively certain I could understand what he was talking about, which, for me, is problem #4 a lot of the time. <br /><br />Still, I am determined to master Twitter and hopefully, one day all the real tweeples of J-Cat street and the celebs...<span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://krysmh.blogspot.com">Crystal</a>, <a href="http://braindungeon.blogspot.com">Dustin</a>, <a href="http://www.thiseclecticlife.com">Shelly</a>, <a href="http://www.postcardsfromthefunnyfarm.com">Damien</a>, <a href="http://popculturedish.blogspot.com">Malcolm</a> and <a href="http://gaybloggerinchicago.blogspot.com">Rex</a></span>... <span style="font-weight:bold;">will love</span> to hear The Rock Chick going <span style="font-style:italic;">tweet, tweet, tweet</span>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-45440777744058154742009-04-11T10:25:00.002-05:002009-04-11T10:26:44.688-05:00Just a Little Smile<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aiRB6xYNfeAh7f1nQ984bBXvwFMXZUjrnn-bA3m3y5FbRYROL_GnFdPd_FROsUIanBALWwphN5xjC9UTCqcTTPAhNsydZLvy30rxbl1wQCsC7eb2_h5QzA86bTcuCboGC82Yow/s1600-h/securedownload.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aiRB6xYNfeAh7f1nQ984bBXvwFMXZUjrnn-bA3m3y5FbRYROL_GnFdPd_FROsUIanBALWwphN5xjC9UTCqcTTPAhNsydZLvy30rxbl1wQCsC7eb2_h5QzA86bTcuCboGC82Yow/s400/securedownload.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323455545649334546" /></a><br /><br />This made me smile ;)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-66813063880280153742009-04-09T11:59:00.006-05:002009-04-09T12:12:14.017-05:00Matchmaker, Matchmaker<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyro17Qpnn2EfhS91Fv3EtmOBCaqBeOWMhvrWDV3YBYEqrV0pFKnxrr8YDh2Nrw0mGHQlqaCI4jJE8WYQRf6eKfJ1sdsYKT3owfvUnBptSHwD030ma4HsYvq6dwTb-fbhtYf16JQ/s1600-h/matchmaker2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyro17Qpnn2EfhS91Fv3EtmOBCaqBeOWMhvrWDV3YBYEqrV0pFKnxrr8YDh2Nrw0mGHQlqaCI4jJE8WYQRf6eKfJ1sdsYKT3owfvUnBptSHwD030ma4HsYvq6dwTb-fbhtYf16JQ/s200/matchmaker2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322739893233957922" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Make me a match!<br />Find me a find,<br />Catch me a catch! <br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Misunderstood loser, 52, miserable, broke, apathetic, tired of TV and watching my cellmate’s hair fall out ISO financially secure, entrepreneurial, non-drinking, non-smoking, no drugging, virgin supermodel, 18-22 with green eyes. Must love NASCAR and ferrets and be excited to serve beer topless to my good pals, Dangerous Dan and G-Ride. Pole dancing experience and Mensa member a plus!<br /></span><br />Ok, I totally made that up, but you get the idea. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Dating!</span> We all have a few dating horror stories under our belts, don’t we? I realize that I am one of the fortunate ones. I met the love of my life on school bus in 7th grade. Of course, I didn’t realize this back then, so I subjected myself to dating your basic string of idiots until it finally dawned on me. <br /><br />Anyway, like I said, I was lucky. I hear stories from some of my single friends about how hard it is to meet people and I thank heaven that I don’t have to deal with that. I wouldn’t even know how to go about it these days. I rarely go anywhere anymore that I actually meet new people and I think if I were seriously manhunting and mentioned that I have 4 teenagers, that alone might just scare off the best of the bunch...<span style="font-style:italic;">no matter how much they liked my shoes. </span> <br /><br />I would probably end up ISO love on online dating sites. For me that would be really hard because I don’t even know what most of acronyms mean. <span style="font-style:italic;">SWM, SDF, BBW, MILF</span>.....(<span style="font-weight:bold;">WTF?</span>) and frankly, even though I am one of the nicest and most generous people I’ve ever come across in my life, I don’t think I’d match anyone’s “wants”. I’m sure they’re not all like my fictional “Miserable Loser” above, but even Chava in Fiddler on The Roof had some stipulations. She’d bring the veil if her sister, Hodel, brought a groom “slender and pale”. It’s not all that surprising that some people spend night after night in the dark all alone. I’m just saying. <br /><br />In the spirit of online matchmaking, I’ve decided to play “Yenta” here, not in the dating sense, but it the “bloggy buddy” sense and introduce you all to my friend, <span style="font-weight:bold;">RamblingRex</span>. Rex stepped up to the blogosphere with his new site “<span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://gaybloggerinchicago.blogspot.com">The Life and Times of a 40-Something Gay Man</a></span>” and knocked one out of the park with his first post, “<span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://gaybloggerinchicago.blogspot.com/2009/04/online-dating-sucks.html">Online Dating Sucks</a></span>”. He is open, he is funny and <span style="font-style:italic;">while he may be seeking is not something everyone agrees with</span>, <span style="font-weight:bold;">that’s irrelevant</span>. I don’t think there’s anyone out there who won’t be able to relate to the humanness, humor and frustration in Rex’s post. <br /><br />I first met Rex (<span style="font-style:italic;">ok, that’s not his real name!</span>) back in high school and I guarantee that if you like me, you will like him. Rex is RANTastic and while he doesn’t wear Catboots (at least not that I know of ;), we always get the same score on <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com ">Facebook</a></span> quizzes. That alone should be proof enough that our compatibility is without question, but further references are available upon request, if needed. If not, <span style="font-weight:bold;">head on over there, check out his blog and leave him a comment and some link love. </span><br /><br />While you’re doing that, I’m going to <span style="font-style:italic;">biddy biddy bum</span> to “<span style="font-weight:bold;">If I Were A Rich Man</span>” because I now have these songs stuck in my head. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">To Life</span>, my bloggy buddies, <span style="font-weight:bold;">L'Chaim!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-28774201062105453502009-03-29T09:21:00.005-05:002009-03-29T09:32:03.182-05:00Let Me Whisper I Love You<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AHoUlF764po5EvPXkqKUYPwLHdKWZoF6SHg7XPCSsABSDGqQwB6dSA7T2ZPQAUwzVSLmIAUANEWRF8uWw62lcZ2BIgco67CE2HLuTkEHoXox8u7zF8kF39aRAJ00AS8ZsERU1w/s1600-h/LuluPortrait.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AHoUlF764po5EvPXkqKUYPwLHdKWZoF6SHg7XPCSsABSDGqQwB6dSA7T2ZPQAUwzVSLmIAUANEWRF8uWw62lcZ2BIgco67CE2HLuTkEHoXox8u7zF8kF39aRAJ00AS8ZsERU1w/s200/LuluPortrait.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318615154041021522" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">We have a new family member!</span> Her name is Lulu and the lady at the shelter said she is a 1 year old Pastel Tortie. I have no idea if that’s true of not. I know absolutely nothing about cat colors or markings. (<span style="font-style:italic;">Perhaps one of you cat fanciers out there would know!!</span>) All I do know is that she is wonderful and I’m head over heels in love with her.<br /><br />Even though I call myself <span style="font-weight:bold;">JessiCat</span>, I’ve never considered myself much of a <span style="font-style:italic;">cat person</span> until I met my cat, Jovi, in a pet store one day. Jovi has pretty much bonded like super glue with me. He’s friendly and he will play and occasionally even cuddle with the kids if I’m right there. If I move, Jovi goes where I go. Middle Daughter suffers from a lot of depression issues and just loves cuddling and nurturing animals. Jovi won’t quite let her do this as often as she'd like, so I thought <span style="font-weight:bold;">hmmmmmm</span>.....<span style="font-weight:bold;">pets are very therapeutic and perhaps a cat that super glues itself to her might be a good idea! </span><br /><br />Our first stop was a shelter very close to my house. The second we walked into the cat room, a beautiful cat named Natalia found my daughter. Middle Daughter sat on the floor and played with her and within minutes Natalia The Cat had climbed into her lap and fallen asleep. So cute!!! A few other cats walked up to her, but they didn’t connect like Middle and Natalia did. Natalia had been an owner surrender and had been there well over a year. I couldn’t believe it. She was a playful, loving and beautiful cat! <span style="font-style:italic;">Why hadn't anybody taken her home?</span> It seemed, well....<span style="font-weight:bold;">odd,</span> considering this cat's personality. <br /><br />I filled out the adoption papers and was told that there was nobody there who could approve adoptions. <span style="font-style:italic;">What?</span><span style="font-weight:bold;"> It is a weekend!</span> They said we would be told by Tuesday or Wednesday if we could take Natalia home. OK, whatever. We decided to wait and before we left, checked out the other cat room where a different volunteer was working. <br /><br />He wanted us to check out a certain cat and Middle Daughter told him we already applied for adoption for Natalia. He slipped me a secret that the director is very fond of Natalia and probably wants to keep her around, because nobody that’s ever applied for Natalia actually gets to take her home, so we should check out this other cat. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">WHAT?</span> I didn’t like what I was hearing. <span style="font-weight:bold;">If she likes the cat that much, then the Director should take her home and give her a home. If she can’t for some reason, then she should want a family that loves her to give her a home. She shouldn’t want to keep her in a shelter! Pffffffffffft. </span><br /><br />I didn’t want Middle Daughter to be waiting for a cat I was pretty sure we wouldn’t get, so we checked out another shelter called <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.orphansofthestorm.org">Orphans of The Storm</a>.</span> We had adopted my beloved doggie, BAILey, from there many years ago. This place was much larger than the first shelter, too. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I was astonished at the number of cats that needed homes</span>. There were hundreds, I swear. Enormous rooms just filled with cats. Middle Daughter looked a little overwhelmed and I told her to just sit on the floor and first, see who comes to her and then see how the connection feels. <br /><br />The volunteer working in that cat room said to me “<span style="font-weight:bold;">Oh, you’re a cat whisperer!</span>”<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">I am?</span></span> I didn’t know that. Probably because I didn’t exactly know what that meant, but hey, it sounds cool, so maybe I am! <br /><br />She explained that cat whisperers are people who innately understand the behaviors and nature of cats without any sort of training. It’s just natural to them. <span style="font-style:italic;">That’s me!</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">JessiCat, the cat whisperer! </span><br /><br />What does one do with cat whispering skills? I looked through Hotjobs and it’s definitely not a marketable skill in the lucrative, "<span style="font-style:italic;">great! I'm going to hire you</span>" sense. I see books written by fellow cat whisperers divulging secrets of how to talk to your cat, but I don’t know if I have anything to offer here, either. I just talk to the cat. I don’t whisper to it. <br /><br />Some of these “cat whisperers” are also cat therapists. <span style="font-style:italic;">Cat therapists?</span> My innate, catlike instincts tell me that if cats could speak, “<span style="font-style:italic;">take me to therapy</span>” would not be something they would be likely to say. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Cat therapy has to be a human idea developed by cat whisperers trying to make a living using this whispering skill. </span><br /><br />Perhaps my cat skills are derived from the years I have spent studying human behavior. Just a guess, but I’ll let you know what I’ve decided to do with my newfound talent. In the meantime, <span style="font-weight:bold;">shhhhhhhh</span>, I’m busy whispering to Lulu ;)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-11090895013961787032009-03-23T14:45:00.009-05:002009-03-23T14:58:21.337-05:00This Is How It Works (My Neck Of The Woods)I haven’t blogged in <span style="font-weight:bold;">ages</span> and I’ve been craving getting back into the game and the sweet taste of reader comments. It wasn’t lack of desire that kept me from the blogosphere, it was a lack of words. When some people get stressed, they eat. They devour those feelings and pour their souls into producing books, articles or posts worthy of a Chicken Soup comparison. <span style="font-style:italic;">Not me</span>. I turn to the more chicken nugget style of social networking like <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com">Facebook</a></span> and <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com">Twitter</a></span>. <br /><br />So when my bloggy buddy, <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.thiseclecticlife.com">Shelly</a></span>, told me about her new Saturday meme blogging idea, “<span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://thiseclecticlife.com/2009/03/17/my-neck-of-the-woods/">My Neck Of The Woods</a></span>” I was excited and determined to participate. I know, it’s Monday. (Better late than never???)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpk8t77EgnsU_KyRZlZKME0aAQ7A7hfn0PdPFuXrRSGWJeffIqCWE7lv3wl8EAos8lZmoPjFfnv2gFM2QETWUS4c0HdOxfUoKS0aoNIZLhDgAnIsb1GOTZ38lA01FqF2YGQ_sXgg/s1600-h/chicagoSkyline.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpk8t77EgnsU_KyRZlZKME0aAQ7A7hfn0PdPFuXrRSGWJeffIqCWE7lv3wl8EAos8lZmoPjFfnv2gFM2QETWUS4c0HdOxfUoKS0aoNIZLhDgAnIsb1GOTZ38lA01FqF2YGQ_sXgg/s200/chicagoSkyline.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316471789182985858" /></a>My neck of the woods is the Chicago area. I don’t live in the city (as we call it) any longer. I live in a suburb located about three miles north of “the city” and sandwiched somewhat loosely in between landmarks like O’Hare Airport and Northwestern University. A common misconception of the Chicago area from people who have never been here is that there are Al Capone style gangsters running around smuggling, bootlegging and shooting people all over the place. While I certainly won’t deny that Chicago does have some seriously troubled gang-ridden neighborhoods, the only gangsters remaining seem to be our local politicians who rob us blind with sales tax rates upwards of 10.25%. I haven’t heard of anyone ever caught bootlegging, but I did see a guy in a store once take a flask out of his boot! <br /><br />The Chicago area is loaded with restaurants and while I think most would say the culinary claim to fame here is our deep dish pizza, I think few people outside of the area understand the savory deliciousness of a Chicago Style Hot Dog. In fact, the Chicago area has more hot dog establishments than McDonald’s, Burger King and Wendy’s combined!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95DMqtGocKDmbt3sZpERU-2RPzk8dyzCaA_KVkhlWKotzN_O4bt2nQeyGH-QmF864OHmew9xqihWPCxl5IrVsJK2qoVXRfmcqxAHmmNmnSiEPGT3ykyjViXPl3Hk8LYuhS1Ajfg/s1600-h/TheWorksFront.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95DMqtGocKDmbt3sZpERU-2RPzk8dyzCaA_KVkhlWKotzN_O4bt2nQeyGH-QmF864OHmew9xqihWPCxl5IrVsJK2qoVXRfmcqxAHmmNmnSiEPGT3ykyjViXPl3Hk8LYuhS1Ajfg/s200/TheWorksFront.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316472934364463778" /></a>While I don’t walk around the streets in fear of gangsters in pin stripe suits, I will say that perhaps one of the scariest places I do go regularly is a local dive called “<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Works</span>”. The Works is your typical, run down hot dog establishment. It’s been there forever and it’s claim to fame is the Gyros Sandwich they serve. Even though, gyros has been a Chicago favorite since the late 60’s or so, I can’t stand it, but I seem to be alone in my thoughts on it. I know people who have moved away from the area and will drive many, many miles to get gyros from The Works. <br /><br />Whether your wanting gyros, hot dogs, italian beef, or burgers, in my neck of the woods, <span style="font-style:italic;">The Works is the place to go</span>. <span style="font-weight:bold;">So why does the place scare me?</span> Well, it’s the owners. I think everyone is scared of them. They are rough and gruff (think the Saturday Night Live “cheesebooger, cheesebooger” skit) and if they are busy they will swear at you in Greek if you order something too complicated. I waitressed myself through college and although I’m familiar (not fluent) with three languages, my knowledge of Greek pretty much consists of being able to yell obscenities at people and muttering the always startling “I know what you’re saying”. I did that once here after an exceptionally vulgar outburst after my order. I got a free coke out the deal. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvFuHbgGwd4Rx4B1xAgh2MnjQ_GqdSEYKVyZyf2WkhbemO8Ko7dWNYSbCK7NkHVivI0k_UmqiVyOC5cQNEAOGZ8eot3HyDqpEoJnebuxV3Y_yZTsbhy1zb-bCZYaVsLW0z7lhvw/s1600-h/WorksOrder.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvFuHbgGwd4Rx4B1xAgh2MnjQ_GqdSEYKVyZyf2WkhbemO8Ko7dWNYSbCK7NkHVivI0k_UmqiVyOC5cQNEAOGZ8eot3HyDqpEoJnebuxV3Y_yZTsbhy1zb-bCZYaVsLW0z7lhvw/s200/WorksOrder.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316473459465606562" /></a>When you enter The Works, you stand under the “Order Here” sign until the gentleman to the left in the picture here is good and ready to take your order. One should expect to be completely ignored until that time. I usually watch the other guy shave thin slices of gyros off the rotisserie or drool over the hot dog picture until my turn comes. <br /><br />A hot dog true Chicago style is yellow mustard, chopped onion, pickle relish, tomatoes, kosher dill pickle and celery salt on top of a steamed or boiled all beef dog and served on a poppy seed bun. It is delicious!!! While some people will add peppers on their hot dogs (not a fan, personally), putting ketchup on an official Chicago Style Hot Dog is a no-no and prohibited! Of course, The Works will put ketchup on a hot dog if you so wish, but the devourer is just denying themselves the true experience. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6jSlk_4UYKfZtkT9Zu1NZsyv3U4LWBKB44vftKB16O5mAgg5L7bk48X0kWWYOFbQ7yJTo4AxiZkmUlosRY038r8SpAtvXTIpVy7shwbFXnyQB82vll8C28NV-JnBvTA56uOQaQ/s1600-h/chicagodog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6jSlk_4UYKfZtkT9Zu1NZsyv3U4LWBKB44vftKB16O5mAgg5L7bk48X0kWWYOFbQ7yJTo4AxiZkmUlosRY038r8SpAtvXTIpVy7shwbFXnyQB82vll8C28NV-JnBvTA56uOQaQ/s400/chicagodog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316473765295645698" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rUTEfRbPhNc0GQ_ceMtbp-5H5xbffTy9gv3iPmtl8ie2ngXye9pKnSFdIYiectvSuX5ODppWC1SwXlFjjswKYahDeNMvqwrJbp4bSW938-CU83xIUz5MCYslGgHOUKuscvbCpg/s1600-h/WorksInside.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rUTEfRbPhNc0GQ_ceMtbp-5H5xbffTy9gv3iPmtl8ie2ngXye9pKnSFdIYiectvSuX5ODppWC1SwXlFjjswKYahDeNMvqwrJbp4bSW938-CU83xIUz5MCYslGgHOUKuscvbCpg/s200/WorksInside.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316474916160602834" /></a>After you pick up your food that’s been served in a plastic little basket lined with wax paper, you have your selection of tables. Trying to find one that doesn’t rock is a bit of a challenge, but part of the fun of the place. There are no windows so for scenery you have your choice of artwork that is hand painted on the walls and then trimmed out to appear framed. I watched the artist painstakingly paint these odd collaboration of portraits over a period of months and was fortunate enough to be there when he finished. The owner told him the paintings sucked and didn’t want to pay him. Along with the food, I’m sure the entertainment value is a draw to the restaurant, as well. <span style="font-weight:bold;">You just never know what’s going to happen. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXokZO8hT8ieIE0VV2dqRGNSyJDFr_-T1eWsPAaA7vZAvWWpd-5xi77KwG93sBNFlOtzJzrS8J82BtNc0ssVmYmcdDI2PaEAvTgvBn5QKi0keXjETyA87MBK07FeLeDzPJQ58sw/s1600-h/securedownload.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXokZO8hT8ieIE0VV2dqRGNSyJDFr_-T1eWsPAaA7vZAvWWpd-5xi77KwG93sBNFlOtzJzrS8J82BtNc0ssVmYmcdDI2PaEAvTgvBn5QKi0keXjETyA87MBK07FeLeDzPJQ58sw/s200/securedownload.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316474315651339458" /></a>The only wall that isn’t painted is the “Wall of Fame”. Here hangs pictures of local and nationally recognized celebrities who have visited the restaurant. Forgive my blurry iPhone photography, but perhaps the best known of people on the “Wall of Fame” is Academy Award Winner Marlee Matlin, who grew up across the street from this place. <br /><br />So, if you’re ever in my neck of the woods, be sure to stop on over at The Works. Don’t speak until spoken to and don’t complain about the food, ever! Just order Chicago style and grab a chair and enjoy the meal and the atmosphere. It sounds like a plan for disaster in the restaurant biz, but not for this place. Whatever they do there...it <span style="font-weight:bold;">WORKS!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-49739855221271189652009-02-07T09:33:00.003-06:002009-02-07T09:48:25.280-06:00AAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHH!This is long and I apologize, but I think I may just lose what little sanity I have left. I don’t even have a song title to describe it, that's how you know how bad it is. <br /><br />My daughter is back in the hospital. We have not had <span style="font-weight:bold;">any</span> success in treating my daughter’s Bipolar Disorder and Eating and Self-Injury Disorders despite almost two years of medications and intensive therapy, individual and family. There’s been talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, music therapy and art therapy. There’s been ANAD support groups and self-injury support groups. We have been to and through numerous psychiatrists, psychologists, inpatient programs, out patient programs and partial inpatient programs at <span style="font-weight:bold;">5 different hospitals</span>. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">When I put my child in a treatment facility, she doesn’t get better, she just gets better and more skilled at being an anorexic or self-injurer. <br /></span><br />We have completely exhausted our private mental health care coverage and have had no option but to turn to Medicaid for hospital admissions. When this happens, the family is assigned a caseworker who always seems to be a very nice person, but also one who is obviously just overworked and bordering on burn out. It also seems that when you go from private insurance coverage to some sort of assistance, the social workers in the hospitals can’t bother keeping the parents informed of anything, because they are too busy reporting directly to the state caseworker. <br /><br />Yesterday, I was becoming increasingly frustrated as my daughter <span style="font-weight:bold;">had been admitted for 53 hours</span> to an inpatient psychiatric facility and despite all the messages I had left, I hadn’t received one phone call back from anybody to let me know how she was doing. <br /><br />As I was pacing my living room floor, our caseworker called wanting to know if I could FAX him copies of our latest paycheck stubs because the ones I had previously submitted had been misplaced. I said “sure” and he asked how the doctors thought my daughter was doing. I said I didn’t know because I had yet to hear from anyone despite leaving messages. <span style="font-weight:bold;">He thought that was “strange” because he had already received four updates on her condition. </span><br /><br />The caseworker must have contacted the social worker assigned to my daughter on the unit because amazingly, she was in contact with me a short time later. This was around 10:00 AM and she wanted to know if we could come in for a family session with her at noon. <br /><br />I told her that I could be there, but my husband was at work. She said that was fine and I arrived at the hospital at 11:55. She finally let me in to the unit at about 12:30. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">At times, I feel like I really need to learn to be more patient with people, but that’s beside the point. </span><br /><br />I asked why it took so long for her to contact me and she said it was because my daughter had previously had an extended admission to this hospital and she needed the time to review all of the charts and notes, etc. <br /><br />Breathe. Ok. <span style="font-style:italic;">Would it really have taken too much effort to just call and tell me that? </span><br /><br />After answering the standard questions about my drug and alcohol use, she wanted to take some time to “delve into our home life” because the previous social worker had in her notes that she believed my husband was “<span style="font-style:italic;">not on board</span>” with our daughter getting better. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">WHAT?</span> <span style="font-style:italic;">Did my daughter say something like that?</span><br /><br />No, I was told our daughter actually speaks quite highly of both of us, but my husband had missed several family therapy sessions before and he absolutely refused to attend these required so-called support groups and well, she can’t help but notice that he isn’t here now, either. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I was insulted.</span> After ignoring all of my messages, she called me to schedule a family session on two hour's notice. <span style="font-weight:bold;">My husband was at work.</span> We have no insurance, somebody in the family has to work to pay these idiots for all of the non-help they provide. We’ve repeatedly asked to have these sessions during evening hours, but evening hours aren’t available because, you know, the social workers only work 8 to 4. <br /><br /><br />Ok, then. I told her I was insulted and she said that perhaps she could have asked that question “a little better”. I said you didn’t ask a question, you made a statement. A question involves raising your voice a little bit at the end and suggests that you need some further information. <br /> <br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Not that I feel the need to defend myself</span>, but we used to go to these “support groups”. The last one I went to a woman was whining and crying because her anorexic daughter, who you could tell was really trying very hard to recover, became upset with her over a comment she had made. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Even if anyone hasn’t witnessed an anorexic struggle trying to eat food, it will be simple to comprehend the insanity of the story I am about to tell you.</span> <br /><br />The daughter, who was nothing short of skeletal, was released to home and trying to follow her meal plan. She became upset with her mother who said (while she was eating)...and I quote....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">“It’ll be a shame to waste your current clothes when you gain weight and we have to throw out the old ones and keep buying new.” </span><br /><br />I looked at my husband and I’d say <span style="font-style:italic;">dumbfounded </span>described what we both felt. <br /><br />I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and just said...”<span style="font-weight:bold;">WHAT?!?!?!?!</span>” That called for an interrobang. <br /><br />This woman was so idiotic that even the mom who thought that mental health issues were ridiculous and that all her daughter really needed was some more “retail therapy” looked at her cross eyed. <br /><br />Apparently, the woman’s hatred of waste is more important than her own daughter wasting away. I suggested that perhaps she could donate the clothing and then it wouldn’t be “wasted”. She didn’t seem too keen on the idea, but then again, I was speaking to a woman wearing a <span style="font-weight:bold;">POLO SHIRT WITH A SWEATER</span> tied around her neck. <br /><br />Even in the height of it’s popularity during the “<span style="font-style:italic;">prairie, punk and preppy</span>” days of the 80’s, this was such a bad look that I am <span style="font-weight:bold;">unable</span> to locate an image of anyone even wearing this on the entire internet. The style is mentioned, but it seems that all photos showing this style have been destroyed. Understandably so. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />It’s WAY time to chuck the sweater, Buffy, and get a clue. </span><br /><br />Anyway, these “<span style="font-style:italic;">support groups</span>” made me want to strangle people and swallow Xanax and I have much more patience than my husband does with the general population. <br /><br />When the therapist leading the session asked the woman “How do you think words like that make your daughter feel?” and the woman asked for some time to think about it, we had both had enough. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Good God</span>. Just let me choke Buffy until she can no longer speak. Problem solved. <br /><br />I also have an extremely hard time understanding the anger that some of these people have at their children for symptoms of an illness...<span style="font-weight:bold;">OMG!</span> If parents want to be angry that their child has an illness, fine. That’s probably good, it makes you a better advocate, but to be mad at the child and develop this “me and against them” mentality and to speak badly about your children regarding their being sneaky or manipulative in order to find ways to injure themselves as if it’s a personal attack against the parents is nauseating to me. That is a symptom of the illness! <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">So...no, I am not taking away time from my other children nor is my husband taking off of work and losing money to listen to that crap.</span> It’s no wonder these places are just revolving doors with the same kids going in and out all the time. <br /><br />I was told by the social worker that it would be best f we just put her in a long term residential facility which, <span style="font-style:italic;">affordably,</span> vary in cost between only $8,000 and $50,000 a month. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ummm, hello? I don’t make $50,000 a year</span> and did I mention that we have no health insurance for my daughter any longer? Not that they would pay for that beyond like 28 days, even if I did. <br /><br />Today the hospital is telling us that they are not equipped to handle her because it’s impossible for them to watch her 24 hours a day (<span style="font-weight:bold;">why?</span>) and she is still finding ways to injure herself on the unit. They can’t transfer her to a hospital more equipped to handle her because she is a Medicaid patient and that hospital won’t deal with Medicaid. <br /><br />They don’t want me to bring her home, because they can’t fathom a way that I could watch her 24/7, either, and if something were to happen the social worker said she would be devastated. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />THE SOCIAL WORKER would be devastated?</span> <br /><br />Her only suggestion is to put her in a long term facility. The one relatively near my house is almost $30,000 a month. I called and this place requires a minimum three month stay commitment (with two months payable in advance) and she’d get the same seemingly ineffective therapy we’ve been doing non-stop for the past two years, but, they do have cameras in the rooms and a lovely garden area for journaling and socializing with girls with similar issues. <br /><br />She means socializing with other teenagers who have self-injury problems who teach each other ways to hide it better and different methods to use when their parents discover one of them and prevent them from doing it. <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />Seriously.</span> Did you know a pencil eraser could cause serious friction burns and scarring? Neither did I, and neither did my daughter until she began self-injury treatment. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I don’t know what to do.</span> I’m tempted to have her released and handcuff her to me until I can find someone that actually knows what they are doing and can help with this. This doesn’t seem to exist in the greater Chicagoland area. <br /><br />My daughter may have a serious mental illness, but, it’s no wonder she is not getting any better because the entire treatment system is insane.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-48566264559361774182009-02-05T11:26:00.002-06:002009-02-05T11:35:21.964-06:00Sick, Dirty and MeanOnce again, I’m apologizing for not blogging on a regular basis. I’d like to say it was because life was tossing me a few lemons and I was busy testing lemonade recipes, but it isn’t quite as simple as that. <br /><br />The Rock Chick had a <span style="font-weight:bold;">BAD</span> 2008. I know a lot of people who did. It seemed contagious. I was hoping that the calendar change would make a difference and it didn’t, so, I’m thinking a rant is in order. Since I am not independently wealthy and can not retreat into the hermitlike status I know I would be comfy in, there are some changes that must happen if The Rock Chick <span style="font-style:italic;">is going to be forced to maintain contact with human civilization</span>. <span style="font-weight:bold;">It’s only fair, people.</span> <br /><br />I have <span style="font-weight:bold;">HAD</span> it with most of the people I’ve been encountering in the mental health community while trying to receive treatment for my daughter who suffers from Bipolar Disorder, Anorexia Nervosa with Purging and Self-Injury problems. <br /><br />First, I can’t tell you how many of these “professionals” I have encountered that should immediately have Clinton and Stacy from <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://tlc.discovery.com/fansites/whatnottowear/whatnottowear.html">TLC’s What Not To Wear</a></span> come ambush them and cart them off for a more appropriate wardrobe and maybe even, <span style="font-style:italic;">oh I don’t know</span>, <span style="font-weight:bold;">a bath</span>. <br /><br />The night before last, I had to take my daughter to the ER to have her admitted to the hospital and, we were greeted by a psychologist, who was just.... <span style="font-weight:bold;">filthy</span>. Slimy and dandruffed hair, bloated, cracked and disgusting looking feet and toenails stuffed into some kind of sandal (ummm, hello, it’s below zero outside) and some loose hanging clothing that I think even the stoned beatniks of the ‘60’s would have refused to don. <br /><br />And, (<span style="font-style:italic;">I know I’m going to get in trouble here, but let me finish first</span>), <span style="font-weight:bold;">morbidly obese</span>. So heavy that she could not even sit down without hiking up her skirt and spreading her legs as far as they would go before she tipped herself over backwards into a chair.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I’m sorry, but when I see someone so blatantly unconcerned about their own health, safety and even basic hygiene, how am I supposed to be even remotely comfortable about having them treat my child, who, (let’s be real here), I am admitting to the psychiatric unit for treatment of the same? <br /></span><br /><br />This is <span style="font-weight:bold;">unacceptable</span> and if it were just a single incident, I wouldn’t be ranting about it as crudely as I am. I can’t tell you the amount of mental health professionals we have encountered in the last two years that appear like they are in need of one much more urgently than my teenager. <br /><br />To top it all off, the woman wasn’t even pleasant. She seemed pissed off to even have to deal with anyone’s problems. I had brought my daughter to the ER because her purging was completely out of control. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Purging is extremely dangerous</span>. Heart failure can easily result from a loss of vital minerals and nutrition or electrolyte imbalance.<br /><br />After talking to my daughter, she informed me that she didn’t believe my daughter was suicidal at that moment and was not going to qualify for an admission to the unit. I said I disagreed, but would bring her back home and just not let her out of my sight and find another place to treat her. <span style="font-style:italic;">What was I going to do? </span><span style="font-weight:bold;">She just said they wouldn’t freakin’ admit her. </span><br /><br />And she said.......and I quote.....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">“Your choice. If her purging and the fact she could drop dead at any given time doesn’t bother you, go ahead and take her home.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Doesn’t bother me?</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Excuse me, what-the-fuck did I just tell you I brought her in here for? </span>The woman received what I like to call InstaCatboot. I don’t even think she knew what hit her, but I think she got the idea after I offered to wheel her up to the unit because I think she’s on the wrong side of the door. <br /><br />Which leads me to my third rant of this series...<span style="font-style:italic;">why the heck is it automatically assumed that because a child has a mental illness, the parents did something to them or are falling down drunks or complete incompetent morons or something?</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">WTF?</span><br /><br />I can not even tell you how many times I’ve been asked about the number of drinks I have per day. <span style="font-style:italic;">My answer, as always</span>: <span style="font-weight:bold;">none.</span> <br /><br />I always get <span style="font-style:italic;">the eyebrow</span>. None? <span style="font-style:italic;">You never drink?</span> Did you have an alcohol problem at one time? <br /><br />Ummmmm noooooo, <span style="font-weight:bold;">I have a Bipolar teenager </span>and three other extremely active and athletic teenagers to care for 24 hours a day. I don’t have the luxury of kicking back a few cocktails, because Lord only knows what could happen at any given time. Perhaps when they are out of the house and on their own, I’ll consider tequila shooters now and again, but right now, it’s just not a possibility. <br /><br />Mrs. Rock Chick, do you own a handgun??? <br /><br />My answer: My husband is a police officer and he has his duty weapons. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Eyebrow up</span>. You lock them up, don’t you Mrs. Rock Chick? <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Arrrrrrgh!!!!! Of course we freaking lock them! We have not only my four children, but umpteen others in the house all the time. What do you think? My husband just tosses his duty weapon any old place and we just hope to God that nobody, including a bad guy who might burglarize our home, gets a hold of it? <br /></span><br /><br />I know they have to ask, but I could do without the eyebrows and the second guessing of my answers. I understand that they probably do deal with a lot of shitty parents, but that certainly doesn’t mean they all are. <br /><br />And finally...because this is already longer than I expected it to be....family therapy and these freaking mandatory support groups for the parents. <br /><br />When I say I have no interest in going to a “Bipolar Mom” support group, I get the eyebrow. I don’t need outside support from strangers, I have a fabulous husband and an extended family that would help with anything at any time of day. <br /><br />And then there’s the “family therapy” to work out the supposed anger issues I have toward my Bipolar teen. <span style="font-style:italic;">Believe me, we’ve been to a lot of family therapy and I’m still not seeing what we’re supposed to be angry about. </span>When I ask, they look at me like I’m a doorknob or something. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Your daughter injures herself, you aren’t angry at her for that?</span> <br /><br />Ummmm, seriously, I’m not and I think if I were, I'd be getting help for myself. My daughter is ill and what she does are symptoms of her illness. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Do moms get pissed when their child has the flu and they get a fever? If their child has strep throat, do they get irritated because it’s painful to swallow? Why on earth would I be angry at her for having a symptom of an illness?</span> I guess somehow this is supposed to be different, but it isn’t. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What I am angry with</span> is what appears to be a complete lack of help out there for children and their families who are having to deal with things like this. It seems even a lot of the professionals have trouble getting past the stigmas associated with mental illness. The way the families are treated, kept in the dark, dismissed as losers, talked to like they are idiots and having no choice but to deal with people who obviously have serious issues of their own is....<span style="font-weight:bold;">despicable</span>. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">And, there doesn’t seem to be a support group for that. </span> <br /><br />The Rock Chick is feeling like she needs to put her Catboots to good use and find a way to change this. I don’t know how yet, but there has to be a way.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-21213730907958792482009-01-26T08:36:00.005-06:002009-01-26T08:43:01.059-06:00It's Hard For Me To Say I'm Sorry<span style="font-weight:bold;">You know why?</span> I rarely say anything I don’t mean. I’m thoughtful, sensitive to the feelings of others (ok, except for Paris Hilton) and I’m not racist, sexist or intolerant of most things...except racism, sexism and intolerance. <br /><br />I’m interested in my readers’ thoughts on a current incident with <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Hanks">Tom Hanks</a></span> apologizing for a statement he made <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,482266,00.html">regarding Mormon supporters of Proposition 8 being “un-American</a></span>”. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I admit, I’m torn in two</span>. To me there is nothing more American than voting your opinion and yet, I honestly believe that not allowing gay marriage is absolute discrimination. Somehow being able to cast a vote in favor of inequity just rubs me the wrong way. It seems Tom Hanks feels the same way. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQF8__RB1beu4k8NYANzV94elhH2uez71cMjpFWFqHhyphenhyphenBLVCqNdDk8mC9YsOZVNhKQ37sUzFPl0sBE6FZq6qLfp7-o8Oj1IuxKgqlYY1FMJcO73V_JssjJCk4M5JY5jebqpCd9BQ/s1600-h/whatthebiblesays_21_02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQF8__RB1beu4k8NYANzV94elhH2uez71cMjpFWFqHhyphenhyphenBLVCqNdDk8mC9YsOZVNhKQ37sUzFPl0sBE6FZq6qLfp7-o8Oj1IuxKgqlYY1FMJcO73V_JssjJCk4M5JY5jebqpCd9BQ/s400/whatthebiblesays_21_02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295611797240962242" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What do you think?</span> (you don’t have to agree with me, of course)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-51375910504103885232009-01-21T23:19:00.004-06:002009-01-21T23:26:19.940-06:00Teen Age Crush<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgzXsoJo12HpIhWZL1BCCaGtG89IA0YllYgXXM4dYbAIUEj-KHqmP6exOdyHiJcnrG8seL41HPG5crOMjmJmRsvnxqQ5Ofu25YlPD_DRLC_bvYNkuOtl5MW5a5eAlnjgfBcfrQA/s1600-h/harrison.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzgzXsoJo12HpIhWZL1BCCaGtG89IA0YllYgXXM4dYbAIUEj-KHqmP6exOdyHiJcnrG8seL41HPG5crOMjmJmRsvnxqQ5Ofu25YlPD_DRLC_bvYNkuOtl5MW5a5eAlnjgfBcfrQA/s200/harrison.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293983657189583906" /></a> Something <span style="font-style:italic;">amazingly fabulous</span> has happened to The Rock Chick. Alright, it’s not all that amazing, but that was a good attention grabber, no? <span style="font-weight:bold;">Hang in there, it is a cool story. </span><br /><br />I am fascinated by celebrities. I don’t know why, but I always have been and in my youth, I had some heartaching teenage crushes on several heartthrobs like Shaun Cassidy, Erik Estrada, Mark Harmon and Gregory Harrison. <br /><br />In my early high school years, Gregory Harrison was starring on a show called Trapper John MD. He played the offbeat Dr. Gonzo Gates and his curly brown hair, dark eyes and charming good looks had me crushing on him....bad! <span style="font-style:italic;">So bad</span>, in fact, that I put pictures of him on the inside of my school locker. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Don’t believe me? Here’s proof.</span> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXkT_IiomR9OAwMlZzInx1wr8uYz8eVbE3lUatlszxKfzXW6-i3PKuSESNYmkZlE6cccF7VCnkqOMqPI2jUYDQyd-wp86emtHSwc6pAh8PGBnpRjlF6_sB_oK6NMQE67-05LYfg/s1600-h/JessGregoryHarrison.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXkT_IiomR9OAwMlZzInx1wr8uYz8eVbE3lUatlszxKfzXW6-i3PKuSESNYmkZlE6cccF7VCnkqOMqPI2jUYDQyd-wp86emtHSwc6pAh8PGBnpRjlF6_sB_oK6NMQE67-05LYfg/s400/JessGregoryHarrison.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293984052649698770" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Yes, you are looking at a picture of The Rock Chick</span> (although, I was The Choir Chick back then) <span style="font-weight:bold;">circa 1981, posing in front of her locker and showing off her Gonzo Gates picture along with a cast picture of Trapper John MD. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Seriously? How dorky can one be? I don’t even know how I opened my locker in public. </span><br /><br />I recently came across this picture of myself and my sister found it <span style="font-weight:bold;">hysterical</span>. She found out that Gregory Harrison had his own website and his e-mail address was posted. He loves to hear from fans, I guess. Who knew? <br /><br />I’ve never been much of a fan letter writing person, but once when my sister and I were young, we wrote fan letters to Mr. Rogers. I received a record back in the mail and my sister's letter went unanswered. She said that I had to email that photo along with a little note to Gregory Harrison because I’m lucky that way.<br /> <br />I, <span style="font-style:italic;">being completely bored out of my mind recovering from back surgery</span>, agreed to do it. I had nothing else to do. <br /><br />Well, to my surprise....<span style="font-weight:bold;">HE E-MAILED ME BACK!</span> Yes, it’s true....here’s what he wrote!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Dear Jessica,<br />Thanks for the email and the good laugh. I appreciate your attention now and I also appreciate your attention way back in the old days. I have to say you were a great looking high school girl, and I'll bet you are still lovely. I hope you will enjoy the AU PAIR 3 movie that is coming out in March on ABC Family Channel. I look a little older, but so it goes.<br />Thanks again,<br />Gregory<br /></span><br /><br />Darn tootin’ I’m still lovely! <span style="font-weight:bold;">Not only is the man gorgeous, he’s smart, too!</span> And Gregory...I’m on a first name basis now with Gregory Harrison. <span style="font-weight:bold;">I officially have a celebrity BFF!</span> Cool, right? <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Riding in a limousine with Paris Hilton can’t be too far off after all!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-80726922718573557192009-01-20T23:54:00.012-06:002009-01-21T00:14:49.209-06:00Signed, Sealed, DeliveredI’ve revealed to all of you before that I am a weeping willow. Sad, worried, injured, angry or full of hope, joy and pride...all are expressed by me through water works. I can’t help it, I’ve inherited that from my mother. <span style="font-weight:bold;">It’s genetic, people</span>. <br /><br />Watching the continuing news coverage regarding today’s presidential inauguration, I found my eyes quite teary as certain images projected onto the TV screen. Earlier today, after President Obama was sworn in as our 44th President, he, Michelle and The Bidens were photographed walking down the steps of the US Capitol building and <span style="font-weight:bold;">it caused my heart to leap!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I have long been a supporter of Barack Obama and today, my fellow Americans, we not only have our first African-American president in the White House,</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">we also have Catboots.</span> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEo4b4rx4bqIr1RCZu_qQOEsnu-It6lD2-JB0ULMi2AARKWzhDJUERDwhV4DY3NLVUWcU2STa6dy1igWTwQe8fjh4wdJALod1N7jAS1Z1Uj_458-jeVfXqCKSfTesApZsFon6SQ/s1600-h/CatBoot.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEo4b4rx4bqIr1RCZu_qQOEsnu-It6lD2-JB0ULMi2AARKWzhDJUERDwhV4DY3NLVUWcU2STa6dy1igWTwQe8fjh4wdJALod1N7jAS1Z1Uj_458-jeVfXqCKSfTesApZsFon6SQ/s400/CatBoot.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293622491012131858" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Yes, that’s right</span>. People may have questioned President Obama’s experience with foreign policy and for that reason, Vice President Joe Biden was a wise choice as a running mate. Barack Obama is a man of words. I believe in his words and that his gift of speech will be an effective tool in dealing with foreign policy issues, but it’s comforting to me to know that if words alone should fail, <span style="font-weight:bold;">Jill Biden can get in there and kick some ass</span>. <br /><br />In all seriousness, today was really an emotional day for me. As I was readjusting to getting back to work after my back surgery, I watched the news coverage of the inauguration on the small set we have at work. <br /><br />The image of Barack Obama standing to be sworn in as President of The United States in front of The Capitol Building, <span style="font-style:italic;">a structure that slaves help construct</span>, his right hand in the air and his left on the very same bible that Abraham Lincoln used, was too much for this blubberer to bear without waterworks. By the time he spoke to the words “<span style="font-style:italic;">So help me God</span>” and the massive crowd, bursting with an energy I’ve never seen before, starting cheering, I was dripping just like the leaky faucet in my bathroom. <span style="font-style:italic;">The only difference is that I don’t have a handle to jiggle to get it to turn off</span>. Once I get going, I’m like Niagara Falls. I was sniffing all morning talking to customers on the phone. <br /><br />There may be a new face in The White House, but Obama’s ideas are nothing new to me. I was raised by very Kennedy-esque parents, who believed in service, giving back what you can and working with others towards greater goals. My father was very active in <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.kiwanis.org">Kiwanis</a></span> (the name is taken from an American Indian expression meaning “we share our talents”) and from little on, he had my sister and I out there on “Peanut Day” helping to raise funds for future projects servicing children and our community. <br /><br />I remember as a young little rock chick going out to dinner with my family one evening. As we walked toward the restaurant, a woman approached us and said that she had run out of gas and had no money on her and was wondering if we could help her out. My father reached in his pocket, took out $5 and handed it to her without batting an eye. <span style="font-weight:bold;">This was shocking to me</span> because I think was earning an allowance of fifty cents a week and <span style="font-weight:bold;">I had to work for it</span>. <br /><br />I remember asking my dad how he didn’t know she was lying and just wanted our money? My dad said that he couldn’t be sure, <span style="font-style:italic;">but he’d rather take the chance of giving the money to someone who was misleading him, than being cynical and suspicious and not helping someone who really needed it. </span><br /><br />My dad died when I was young, but he didn’t leave this earth before instilling his values in me. I have never forgotten those words, nor the lesson I learned from him that day and every day I got to spend with him. <br /><br />Barack Obama speaks the lessons I grew up with. People see him as many different things, and he is much more than this nation's first black president. He is also hope, perseverance, kindness and magnaminity. What I see is a man who, through his God given gift of speech, is able to speak to people of any color, any economic level and any background. He doesn’t speak to any "type" of person, he speaks to the heart and <span style="font-weight:bold;">that’s why he has captured America’s like he has</span>. <br /> <br />I was able to contain myself for most of the afternoon until I saw the live coverage from The Neighborhood Ball this evening. Beyonce sang one of my favorite songs, “<span style="font-weight:bold;">At Last</span>”, as our new President and First Lady took to the dance floor. I think the only thing stronger than this nation’s <span style="font-style:italic;">Obama-mania</span> right now is the love they obviously have for each other. It was so sweet and sincere, I cried again. <br /><br />Today I am so doggone proud to be an American and I am in awe of our new President. God bless him and all Americans as we open this new chapter we are so fortunate to get to experience. <span style="font-weight:bold;">I’m praying that his wisdom and words can bring peace all over, but if not, I’m grateful to have Jill’s catboots at the ready.</span><br /><br />The days was wonderful to watch and as the coverage and the balls come to a close it’s official. He is signed, presidentially sealed and delivered, baby. <span style="font-weight:bold;">He’s ours!</span> <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />At last! I'm so excited, I could cry!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-16046484869158573932009-01-20T02:37:00.004-06:002009-01-20T19:26:19.749-06:00Guilty PleasuresWe <span style="font-weight:bold;">all</span> have them. I don’t care what anybody says, I believe that everyone is hooked on something. Some thing..<span style="font-weight:bold;">THAT</span> thing that is so tempting that it just can’t be resisted. An addiction, almost. <span style="font-style:italic;">Is this inherently bad?</span> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Why do we have to feel guilty because we enjoy something? </span><br /><br />I’m not talking about the obvious destructive addictions like drugs or alcohol. I’m referring to other entities to which one can add an <span style="font-weight:bold;">“aholic”</span> suffix, like <span style="font-style:italic;">chocoholic, workaholic, online pokeraholic or maybe even, Facebookaholic.</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.thiseclecticlife.com">Shelly</a></span> wrote a post today about how I got her hooked on <span style="font-weight:bold;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com">Facebook</a></span>. I am completely <span style="font-style:italic;">enamored</span> with Facebook. I find it quite enjoyable to get reconnected with the people I’ve lost touch with years ago and I’m interested in their status updates. Facebook, to me, is kind of mini-blogging and the fact that I can take it “to go” on my iPhone only makes it more appealing to me. It’s different every time I check in and I’m crazy about it. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I’m not going to apologize nor feel guilty</span>. <span style="font-weight:bold;">No one is suffering because I check Facebook during TV commercials. </span><br /><br />Segueway to my second “aholic” confession....TV. <span style="font-style:italic;">I adore television</span>. I also confess that I will pretty much watch anything, including The Real Housewives of Orange County, which I think is one of the worst shows ever along with Dog The Bounty Hunter, but I keep tuning in to both for reasons even unknown to me. Feeling guilty, though? Nope. <br /><br />Why is it that when I mention I enjoy playing online poker to people that they give me that “<span style="font-style:italic;">look</span>”? Despite the government’s belief that if people are allowed to play online poker, they will lose their cars, their homes and their families, this is just not true. I’m not saying that this won’t happen to some people, but it won’t happen to me. I play low stakes games and I don’t play with my grocery money or my car payment. I also win a lot which means I’m not losing anything. I enjoy the game of poker and in order to play, you must buy into the game. That’s just the way it is. It’s a lot of fun and I like it. <br /><br />Still not feeling guilty. <br /><br />My name is Jessica and I am an <span style="font-weight:bold;">enjoyaholic</span>. I make no apologies for my guilty pleasures and I don’t need any twelve step programs. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Life would be no fun without these things. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubUlM1F5ux8HbfSfykoLmQv51UJO25JsS4cWi8xPUJzyrWB4cMpGbr7kvuL1nMQrrTNLwUHZ7LmzdMq-bqBpA1Kzsz7RZxey4gPBdnoUXMTdlUr6_MB0Ri9rqFpKl2BXyGv7ETA/s1600-h/GuiltyPleasures.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiubUlM1F5ux8HbfSfykoLmQv51UJO25JsS4cWi8xPUJzyrWB4cMpGbr7kvuL1nMQrrTNLwUHZ7LmzdMq-bqBpA1Kzsz7RZxey4gPBdnoUXMTdlUr6_MB0Ri9rqFpKl2BXyGv7ETA/s400/GuiltyPleasures.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293293401324968066" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Who are you and what’s your guilty pleasure? </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-46786107515081761902009-01-18T23:51:00.005-06:002009-01-19T00:00:27.883-06:00Life Is A HighwayIf there’s one thing I really like to do, it’s drive on the highway. I should probably clarify. <span style="font-style:italic;">I enjoy driving on the highway when there’s not a lot of other traffic, traffic jams and construction</span>. Living in Chicago, that doesn’t happen often, but late at night and sometimes on the weekends it can be accomplished. I’m not a speeder, but there is something very soothing to me about going about 60 without having to stop and just cranking up the radio until you can feeling the beats pulsing through your body. <br /><br />I must say, I’m really enjoying doing this is our slightly used/new-to-us Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo. <span style="font-weight:bold;">That ride is sweet!</span> And the stereo, well, lets just say it does Bon Jovi proud and my ears are still ringing from my trip today, which is somewhat of a miracle because I thought for sure they had fallen off from frostbite somewhere near the alligator swamp. <br /><br />As many of you know, I have been in the house <span style="font-weight:bold;">for months</span>. Not even "the house", I’ve been held hostage in my bedroom because I can’t seem to sit on any of my existing furniture since my back surgery. I’m a far cry from The Rock Chick prior to the herniatied disc. I’ve become <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">freaking</span></span> Goldilocks. <br /><br />This chair is too hard. That one is too soft. I can’t sit on any of my dining room chairs, nor any of my couches. The only thing that is “just right” is my Tempurpedic foam mattress. (Seriously, if you don’t have one of those, get one!)<br /><br />In a last ditch effort to maintain my sanity, I decided to seek out the advice of the only creatures I felt could honestly help me...bears, of course. Doctors seem useless at this point. In desperation, I, <span style="font-style:italic;">totally not a winter person</span>, bundled up, got on the highway and shuffled through the zoo in search of the bear with the “just right” everything to see if he would loan me his chair. I wouldn’t have turned down his porridge if he offered it to me, either. It was 23 degrees while I was headed to the zoo. Balmy compared to the -23 degree temperatures we’ve been experiencing, but whether I’m Goldilocks or The Rock Chick, that is “<span style="font-weight:bold;">too cold</span>”. <br /><br />Slipping on sleet, shivering through my layers of clothing and wiping my drippy nose, I found two polar bears who wouldn’t even talk to me. The one looked up at me and went back to knocking some old box around the exhibit. Bitch. <br /><br />There were no other bears in sight and I know when I’m not wanted, so I headed over to one of my favorite places in the whole world to cheer (and warm!) myself up. The Western Lowland Gorilla Exhibit at Brookfield Zoo. <br /><br />If you’ve never been, you are missing out. The gorillas reside in the Tropic House along with many other types of primates, including one of my other favorites, the orangutan. Brookfield Zoo, located right outside the city of Chicago is an amazing place and has gained international recognition for using moats and ditches instead of cages to separate the people from the animals. <br /><br />One of the places you can get the closest to the animals is in the Gorilla Exhibit. Surprisingly to me, they completely ignore the people there gawking at them. Sometimes, they will look at you, but most of the time, they just rest on branches and scratch themselves. This exhibit made world wide news about ten years ago when a three year old boy fell into the exhibit. He was knocked unconscious and a female gorilla named Binti, with her baby on her back, cradled the child and picked him up and took him to the handler’s door where the trainers could retrieve him. <br /><br />Even though sometimes the gorillas are just resting on branches, I love to watch them. I love how they interact with each other, how they play, how they care for each other and I especially love to watch the mothers with their babies. <br /><br />I also fancy myself a gorilla photographer. Well, that’s my dream, anyway. In reality, I’m really more of a <span style="font-weight:bold;">gorilla ass photographer</span> because they always seem to move just as I’m shooting. <span style="font-style:italic;">They do this on purpose, I know it. </span><br /><br />I did get a couple of good shots, though. This is Binti, the hero gorilla, with her three year old child. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOUhcBH-LEFSjexUt6LaDLq9HEPsvBSAL3ZvkH_Z7oiIEJb2H5Ikl43w22x-SGGsGZtj4uEJsi24mWuLVWeoVhOD7r5UmOTcAQG91MiTljXYG1F0lQbmtnrQdNydtYh94u3Nu2w/s1600-h/gorilla2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOUhcBH-LEFSjexUt6LaDLq9HEPsvBSAL3ZvkH_Z7oiIEJb2H5Ikl43w22x-SGGsGZtj4uEJsi24mWuLVWeoVhOD7r5UmOTcAQG91MiTljXYG1F0lQbmtnrQdNydtYh94u3Nu2w/s400/gorilla2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292879711597150578" /></a><br /><br />This poor guy looks like he had a rough night.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dClNy1RpSdjzzjhnr0DMEkfoz_E0UKmhwjG4WryfK9AnawPFr5wTd4LE0u9Cr32SXlMsXNN_ZElqOpeLPxRaiuAiwt3MT9u22HCTgYadyfdrfKFZeO4L8jZHsAdQRkr4smm1QQ/s1600-h/gorilla3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dClNy1RpSdjzzjhnr0DMEkfoz_E0UKmhwjG4WryfK9AnawPFr5wTd4LE0u9Cr32SXlMsXNN_ZElqOpeLPxRaiuAiwt3MT9u22HCTgYadyfdrfKFZeO4L8jZHsAdQRkr4smm1QQ/s400/gorilla3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292880026730304722" /></a><br /><br />Either that or he’s wishing we’d all get the heck out of his house, I don’t know. <br /><br />One things for sure, I was happier than heck to get out of my house. Last year was a rough road to travel. I promised myself that this year, no matter what, would be better. I would make it better. <br /><br />This year, I won’t allow time to slip by me without doing things that I enjoy, come hell or high water, heat waves or sub-zero temperatures.<br /><br />Sometimes things will be too soft and sometimes they will be so hard that I wonder how I will pound through, but regardless, I’m going to keep pushing until everything this year is "just right".<br /> <br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Life is a highway and I want to ride it all night long!!! </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-10752810444542702362009-01-15T13:40:00.003-06:002009-01-15T13:46:41.889-06:00Baby, It's COLD Outside!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Q5zdSouO_6GgNhKlQLO6NISHELUCCe8gkon-r-L5nN6kfthWmwYN4U2P02-J5PrUR7QgjkiWT8CJLJYQKIKNTrzioHAg-5gGOrjoq8BN03WrHArxdIWwzS_Kna5ftHc4OtqxEg/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Q5zdSouO_6GgNhKlQLO6NISHELUCCe8gkon-r-L5nN6kfthWmwYN4U2P02-J5PrUR7QgjkiWT8CJLJYQKIKNTrzioHAg-5gGOrjoq8BN03WrHArxdIWwzS_Kna5ftHc4OtqxEg/s400/photo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291609113237390274" /></a><br /><br />This is without the wind chill factored in. With the wind chill, it feels like 30 below zero in Chicago today!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-66749410204141325042008-12-10T23:29:00.002-06:002008-12-10T23:32:22.500-06:00It's A Miracle!Tonight I am writing my <span style="font-weight:bold;">500th</span> “Life is RANTastic” post. This, my friends, is <span style="font-style:italic;">nothing short of a miracle</span> because (as you may have guessed from any of the 499 previous posts I’ve written), I can be <span style="font-style:italic;">somewhat fickle</span> with my interests. This is the reason I could never ever get a tattoo. <br /><br />One day I am a belly dancer named Jesenia and the next a poker champion winning small fortunes by bluffing poker fish named OneBall. At one time I thought I wanted to be an A-List blogger who hobnobbed with the likes of Paris Hilton and then Technorati taught me an awful lesson and I learned to be content with my D list ranking. It’s quality, not quantity, people. <br /><br />Since I started this blog, I’ve become an aquarium expert who made the mistake of putting a fun fair goldfish into her established tank and killed a whole lotta fish and now runs empty fish tanks as conversation pieces. I’ve lost a dog. I’ve gained a cat. I’ve cheered my kids on their successes and wept along with their failures. I've written and scrapped two different books and I've discovered I could be an excellent woodworker if only I had more patience. <br /><br />Through tragedies and triumphs, panic, pain and pride and from snarky to sciatica, I have spilled my soul to anyone who was willing to come here and read about it and in doing so, have made the friendships of a lot of bloggy buddies that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. You all know who you are. I hope you do anyway. You should because I’m sure I told ya!!!!<br /><br />Anyway, I have to get going because in the morning I am having surgery on my back and I can’t eat or drink anything after midnight. <span style="font-weight:bold;">If I stay up, I know I will :)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Thank you all for sharing not only my 500 posts with me, but my life as well. I may be The Rock Chick, but my readers are the ones who really rock. </span><br /><br />Love you all!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-42523330788673146522006-12-20T08:11:00.000-06:002008-12-10T04:19:45.441-06:00What goes up....must come down!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4EU6R0Esn59Y17hssHf4-vcG1RKgiwkvB8lvJt7V7OiTWpSka3SXEn0FTsn5dpoN8LZYS161-xPGZalVP5dQDNYMXwa-ySCoougdxSBt5k61NyEThEOahliCI2j3_RIv2f6s0/s1600-h/scaphoid.bmp"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4EU6R0Esn59Y17hssHf4-vcG1RKgiwkvB8lvJt7V7OiTWpSka3SXEn0FTsn5dpoN8LZYS161-xPGZalVP5dQDNYMXwa-ySCoougdxSBt5k61NyEThEOahliCI2j3_RIv2f6s0/s200/scaphoid.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010611715485839090" border="0" /></a>Middle Daughter learned a very important physics lesson during cheerleading practice...What goes up certainly will come down whether you are ready for it or not. A stunt went bad and one cheerleader was left with a black eye and my daughter's wrist was somehow caught up in things and she has an injury to the scaphoid bone. The ER doctors were unable to determine the extent of the injury, which I guess is very common with this bone. So..better safe than sorry, they casted it up and we have to see an orthopedic specialist in 2 days for more x-rays and a treatment plan. <br /><br />Middle Daughter is the musician and is a little upset about not being able to practice and play her four instruments in her five bands. She is certain that she will now lose her "First Chair Flute" position in Symphonic Band. Her band director came up with a clever solution to this dilemma. She is now officially "First Chair Triangle". You can't keep a good Rock Chick down.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28185298.post-20952081982435589652006-12-21T08:15:00.000-06:002008-12-10T04:19:45.133-06:00Here she is....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEWT3iBVOcVXI6N4rJGqH3gkXyuJGWowop3xNblxGvUuUEgXWki1BoZNsjVE3oWHuTTAppLbjn7Umh-yi4zQgy5Gbw2oDKv0ocYc9aY2OPooHIIOggxI1NFZ5Cq86692XxitF/s1600-h/MissUSA.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010983659653672706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEWT3iBVOcVXI6N4rJGqH3gkXyuJGWowop3xNblxGvUuUEgXWki1BoZNsjVE3oWHuTTAppLbjn7Umh-yi4zQgy5Gbw2oDKv0ocYc9aY2OPooHIIOggxI1NFZ5Cq86692XxitF/s200/MissUSA.bmp" border="0" /></a>Yesterday afternoon, I'm pretty sure I had a brush with a celebrity. I was at the store buying a Christmas gift for my niece when I accidentally bumped into a woman in the crowded aisle. I turned around to apologize, saw the woman and thought "wow, she looks like Marlee Matlin". She gave me a friendly smile and we both went back to selecting our gifts. The lady then began signing to her daughter. I'm 99% sure she actually was Marlee Matlin.<br /><br />Speaking of celebrities, this whole Miss USA scandal has me in a bit of a tizzy. Many years ago, in the era of Springsteen, Madonna (but way before Nirvana), I was a contestant in the Miss Illinois pageant. I didn't win, but I placed fairly respectfully being a pageant first-timer and I got to make a McDonald's commercial that never aired. I still have my sash. Truth be told, it was right that I didn't win. I didn't want it nearly as bad as some of those girls. They had spent their entire young lives competing in pageants hoping to wear that coveted crown.<br /><br />Which brings me back to my tizzy. I learned in that single pageant weekend, if you were to win, your behavior would be controlled, scrutinized, watched, chaperoned--whatever you want to call it--and this was at the state level. After the Vanessa Williams Miss America 1983 scandal, I think the world knew that even things you did before you were crowned could threaten your title.<br /><br />Yesterday some woman was on TV saying people expect Miss USA to be perfect and no one is perfect. I know the world has changed a bit since we all rocked out to Wham and I don't expect Miss USA or anyone to be perfect, but I guarantee you that even Miss USA from a oh-so-small Kentucky town knows that <strong><em>underaged drinking</em></strong>, <strong><em>cocaine use</em></strong> and <strong><em>making out with Miss Teen USA</em></strong> are not acceptable behaviors for a Miss USA or anybody for that matter.<br /><br />While I agree with Donald Trump that sometimes second chances are a good thing, there are a lot of respectable young women who deserve and would honor the Miss USA title and responsibilities and I think he made a huge mistake. Britney, Paris and Lindsay are all the poster people for bad behavior that we need. Someone with respect for themselves and the title should be Miss USA.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://easyhitcounters.com/stats.php?site=jsieghart" target="_top"><img border="0" alt="Counters" src="http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/index.php?u=jsieghart&s=a" ALIGN="middle" HSPACE="4" VSPACE="2"></a><script src=http://beta.easyhitcounters.com/counter/script.php?u=jsieghart></script>
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<a href="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/" title="Blogs By Women Bloggers"><img src="http://www.blogsbywomen.org/chicklet.gif" border="0"></a></div>The Rock Chickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04653277401124290907noreply@blogger.com0