tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52594216678417489232024-03-13T23:32:24.957-05:00Dr Em and Princess WeeWee's Take on Real LifeDr. Em and Princess WeeWee are sisters raised by a pair of free spirited hippies. One sister rebelled to become a world renowned psychiatrist; specializing in phobias. The other sister embraced the possibility of ideals and became an award winning artist. Both sisters hold a very low tolerance for idiocy and work in their own way to address and combat the common sense challenged. These pages chronicle their adventures and observations.Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-88021412002288549902012-08-22T21:34:00.000-05:002012-08-22T21:34:18.559-05:00So Long and Farewell From Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeeIt’s a sad, sad day but it’s time for Dr. Em and I to say goodbye to everyone. We started this blog because A) we think we’re hilarious B) We have super fun stories to share and most importantly C) we found ourselves with some extra time. <br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-g0zM9mOa-fA/UDWSK2-0JeI/AAAAAAAAAcA/_zU7fRBFpaA/s1600-h/So%252520Long%252520em1%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="So Long em1" border="0" height="241" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tUBJxax1iBk/UDWSLWzjfVI/AAAAAAAAAcI/UhygUNGKurY/So%252520Long%252520em1_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="So Long em1" width="217" /></a><br />
Our funniness and tales haven’t gone anywhere but our time has managed to escape both of us. Silly real life (work, family, homes and school) has squeezed itself into every spare minute. It happens. But rather than disappear into the internet, we want to make sure to say a real goodbye.<br />
<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-L-CrRhQsoBU/UDWSLx21onI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/On_27VDnwds/s1600-h/So%252520Long%252520whit%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="So Long whit" border="0" height="241" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-z65ByNeccwA/UDWSMZFjVdI/AAAAAAAAAcY/CWcGMYkYF14/So%252520Long%252520whit_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="So Long whit" width="217" /></a><br />
Thank you everyone for reading and commenting and making it so much fun to write each of our posts. Hopefully,we’ll be able to come back before too much time <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RSVM_GVpDrk/UDWSM_B0FVI/AAAAAAAAAcg/0pAL4w_L4-o/s1600-h/So%252520Long%252520weinator%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="So Long weinator" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xhMR9sckMtw/UDWSNroSTfI/AAAAAAAAAco/P7PGyPBi1j8/So%252520Long%252520weinator_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="So Long weinator" width="146" /></a>passes and when that happens you will be the first to know!!!<br />
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TaTa For Now!<br />
Dr. Em, Princess WeeWee & The Weinator<br />
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So long…Farewell</div>
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Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-41211938287702012452012-08-13T15:59:00.000-05:002012-08-13T15:59:47.114-05:00Dr. Em Proves Her SuperiorityI would like to take this opportunity to clear my name...I did not come up with pushups as a Kickstarter reward. That brilliant idea came from my husband. I was under the impression that we'd be splitting up the pushup duties (read: my husband would be responsible for doing all the pushups) but somehow he snuck the word <i>each </i>in there. <br />
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So, here are my first 50 pushups and while I did not perform them with zeal of my husband I did complete them without being a whiny baby like Princess WeeWee. I'd like to see how she uses her <i>new muscles</i> to make me pay...now that would make a hilarious video!<br />
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Thank you so much to everyone who has supported us this far! Each donation brings us that much closer to making <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thesandbox/sandbox-the-movie-0" target="_blank">Sandbox: The Movie</a> a reality!<br />
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Dr. EmDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-14993782479079666692012-08-06T12:21:00.002-05:002012-08-06T13:11:32.020-05:00Princess WeeWee Is a Push Up Queen!Actually, I'm pretty sure I don't even qualify as a push up princess. Dr. Em got sneaky and when I wasn't looking promised all our kickstarter backers 10 push ups from each of us.<br />
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If this project wasn't so important and if we didn't seriously need some funding to complete our short film you better believe I would not be sweating on my hardwood floor doing a crazy amount of push ups.<br />
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I did a little math the other day and realized that it is quite possible I will be stuck doing 2,400 push ups when we get fully funded!!!<br />
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You can too can make me sweat out some push ups by supporting our very worthy short film <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thesandbox/sandbox-the-movie-0/dashboard" style="color: blue;" target="_blank">Sandbox: The Movie</a><br />
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Dr. Em better watch out! I plan on using all those built up muscles to get my revenge for her brilliant push up idea!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJQrjHhOqmAg_EM-u5om7pW4wRYSWgShmkJSTtkVIWY2S_BidvKU7ctqQYmY-6V0bfvdDyvplBW9w8O4E2KVIK3inVPyY2t1qVVyZL9gKQbuyg_cXAOzPDWm8IHZx8Ai7ee0OacaTsS5N/s1600/Homer+Strangle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJQrjHhOqmAg_EM-u5om7pW4wRYSWgShmkJSTtkVIWY2S_BidvKU7ctqQYmY-6V0bfvdDyvplBW9w8O4E2KVIK3inVPyY2t1qVVyZL9gKQbuyg_cXAOzPDWm8IHZx8Ai7ee0OacaTsS5N/s1600/Homer+Strangle.jpg" /></a></div>
Princess WeeWeeDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-31855979848081361992012-07-31T01:03:00.000-05:002012-07-31T01:03:32.287-05:00The Girls Insist You Get an Update!<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Fq4B-vpjFTQ/UBdxOh3qANI/AAAAAAAAAaU/A85ngiInYVY/s1600-h/juggling%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="juggling" border="0" height="267" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Q0RXM5d-bss/UBdxPP3UblI/AAAAAAAAAac/-Sdpl08Hlqk/juggling_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="juggling" width="225" /></a>I keep telling Dr. Em and Princess WeeWee to S-L-O-W down; they can’t do everything but they continue to add more projects to their load! I have insisted they not feel guilty about neglecting you all and can only assuage them by giving you all an update on their current going ons.<br />
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The girls, aside from taking care of their daily <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rSUG8ZkF6DA/UBdxPwZRIBI/AAAAAAAAAak/1Gs-9VxgHZw/s1600-h/OneSheet%252520Front%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="OneSheet Front" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Mbv3zx4wZ8g/UBdxQWEFY5I/AAAAAAAAAas/zXyZlPrhELo/OneSheet%252520Front_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="OneSheet Front" width="189" /></a>lives, have been immersed in bringing to life a long time project of theirs. I’ve told you all before that these two are both decorated veterans and you have seen here their commitment to creativity and funny. But what you don’t know is 4 years ago these two created a seriously hilarious sitcom depicting their experiences while being deployed.<br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_LoNLFlvzac/UBdxQ7eDEsI/AAAAAAAAAa0/ujphZB78lxs/s1600-h/Plane%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="Plane" border="0" height="108" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kpDRMt7SLss/UBdxRPoU3UI/AAAAAAAAAa8/BdV0cG0wK_A/Plane_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 14px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Plane" width="108" /></a><br />
The girls were able to do so because Princess WeeWee was able to take a few months off and chill out with Dr. Em in L.A. Unfortunately, after those few months Princess WeeWee had to return to her life in Minnesota and their sitcom genus was put on the back burner. <br />
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Recently though, it was announced that there would be a G.I. Film Festival held in L.A. this fall and despite being over 2,000 miles apart the sisters knew they couldn’t pass up the opportunity.<br />
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-nZiYS0sMVx4/UBdxSBHI0SI/AAAAAAAAAbE/0Hx3xOoLExg/s1600-h/typing%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="typing" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ffm-AdbzJTo/UBdxSfOX5yI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fw-We-GdyWQ/typing_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="typing" width="157" /></a><br />
So, they have been working tirelessly, with Dr. Em’s very talented husband, to create a prequel to the sitcom they created in 2008. They miss you all and the adventures they're able to share here, but I‘ve assured them both that once you see where their energy has been focused for the past few months their absence would be forgiven.<br />
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If you have a second, swing over to <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thesandbox/sandbox-the-movie-0" style="color: blue;" title="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thesandbox/sandbox-the-movie-0">http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thesandbox/sandbox-the-movie-0</a><span style="color: blue;"> </span>and check out their latest endeavor!</h3>
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The girls expect to wrap up shooting and post production by mid-September. After that, trust me, they will back here in full swing! In the mean time I know every one of you totally gets the “Why aren’t there more hours in the day” mentality!<br />
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Oh yeah, I have insisted that all required push-ups be filmed and if you guys are interested I’ll make sure you get a peek of that misery. <br />
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The WeinatorDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-34561197531692643482012-07-10T23:49:00.000-05:002012-07-10T23:49:32.499-05:00We're not gone...just a bit distractedHey all!<br />
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I just wanted to let everyone know...We're not ignoring you. Dr. Em and I are entering a short film in the L.A. Veteran's Film Festival. Needless to say every free moment we have is dedicated to getting this film done before September 1st. I promise to give you all a sneak peek when it's done. In the mean time...stay funny, happy and fabulous!<br />
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Princess WeeWeeDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-61066312366450874012012-06-29T23:35:00.000-05:002012-07-03T14:54:51.795-05:00L.A. Vs. Minnesota Round 2Here a few more of the differences you’ll find between L.A. and Minnesota…<br />
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A typical restaurant encounter </h3>
<span style="color: maroon;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tqIYOBxyQ_0/T-vbGYIM14I/AAAAAAAAAYE/yytGFwIQ7s4/s1600-h/Hostess%252520LA%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="Hostess LA" border="0" height="283" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-UPydm_GkMGw/T-vbG8m9SyI/AAAAAAAAAYM/LuoQdw1vflw/Hostess%252520LA_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 9px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Hostess LA" width="264" /></a>L.A.: Upon entering the restaurant</span> <br />
<span style="color: maroon;"><b>Hostess</b>: …..</span> <br />
<span style="color: maroon;"><b>Patron</b>: Um, table for two please.</span> <br />
<span style="color: maroon;"><b>Hostess</b>: (large sigh) Do you have a reservation?</span> <br />
<span style="color: maroon;"><b>Patron</b>: This is Chili’s. Do you even take reservations?</span> <br />
<span style="color: maroon;"><b>Hostess</b>: UGH! Fine. It will be an hour wait.</span> <br />
<span style="color: maroon;"><b>Patron</b>: Can we just go sit in the bar?</span> <br />
<span style="color: maroon;"><b>Hostess</b>: Uhhhhhhh… Let me go ask my manager.</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;"><b><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7sV-p7lmW94/T-vbHa5dbBI/AAAAAAAAAYU/yPKLrdh8JlQ/s1600-h/Hostess%252520MN%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Hostess MN" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-36mYuptp9_E/T-vbH6nd3gI/AAAAAAAAAYc/--fj4x5VNxM/Hostess%252520MN_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Hostess MN" width="68" /></a>MN</b>: Upon entering the restaurant </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;"><b>Hostess</b>: Welcome, welcome! Oh my golly, we are so happy to have you here! </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;"><b>Patron</b>: Table for two please</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;"><b>Hostess</b>: Oh yeah, you betcha! Let me just check here… Oh no! It looks like there will be a little bit of a wait. Oh, I’m so terribly sorry! And here you are looking so super cute in your date top…</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;"><b>Patron</b>: It’s fine. Can we wait in the bar?</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;"><b>Hostess</b>: Oh yeah! Yeah, of course you can! You have the most super time, now, Okay!</span><br />
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How men spend the weekend</h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">LA: shopping and getting manicures</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: hunting and ice fishing</span><br />
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A hot night on the town includes</h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: A celebrity chef, celebrity DJ and $30 drinks</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: Karaoke and meat raffle</span><br />
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A movie inspired by our accent</h3>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nHKitivjnws/T-vbIQqlQOI/AAAAAAAAAYk/1iOQJKBXIWQ/s1600-h/Clueless%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Clueless" border="0" height="252" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-U8KYcjC2b_4/T-vbJLbHTzI/AAAAAAAAAYs/lI43nZFIL-U/Clueless_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Clueless" width="156" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: maroon; font-size: small;">L.A.: Clueless</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="DDG" border="0" height="254" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7cv1yChfj5I/T-vbKlTMh-I/AAAAAAAAAZI/VYYDKJ8K-fA/DDG_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; margin: 0px auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="DDG" width="157" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #000040; font-size: small;">MN: Drop Dead Gorgeous</span></td></tr>
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A teenager’s Halloween</h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: Dress in an outfit sure to make your mother blush and your father wail then take to Hollywood Blvd for a massive parade</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: Wear a cute costume buried under six layers of winter clothing then head to the local Harvest Festival for hayrides and bobbing for apples</span><br />
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What to bring to a potluck</h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: Skyy vodka</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: Pigs in a blanket or any type of casserole </span><br />
<span style="color: #000040;"><del cite="mailto:Whitney" datetime="2012-06-27T18:59"></del></span> <br />
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A typical first date outfit</h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: The girl – A skimpy dress, 3 inch heels and a pound of jewelry The guy – Designer jeans, polished loafers and a sport coat</span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: The girl – A nice pair of jeans and a new sweater The guy – A nice pair of jeans and a new sweater </span><br />
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I hope you enjoyed!</div>
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Dr. EmDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-4492289122116301692012-06-27T19:20:00.000-05:002012-06-27T19:23:14.299-05:00L.A. Vs MinnesotaMany of you may know that I grew up in Minnesota, where much of my family, including Princess WeeWee, still live. It is a land of four million people with silly accents, twelve parkas each and a strange hankering for anything covered in cheese. But, I now reside in Los Angeles County, a land of 9.8 million overly tanned surfers and actors who only eat organic cheese if any at all. Seriously night and day. So today, I thought I’d share a little about the differences between my two favorite places. <br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: small;">What you may overhear in line at the grocery store<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qcJmjFm7E8I/T-uiI_SB5II/AAAAAAAAAXg/CDvwmmQKVas/s1600-h/CA%252520Em%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="CA Em" border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-i79t3PUzFbE/T-uiJPL_mmI/AAAAAAAAAXo/2B6PnWGtdsY/CA%252520Em_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="CA Em" width="198" /></a></span></h3>
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<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: “This organic kale is going to go great with our gluten-free wheatgrass!” </span> </div>
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<span style="color: #000040;">MN: “Is this the largest tub of mayonnaise you have?” </span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When it’s a good day for the beach </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: Everyday </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: That one day after the snow stops and before the humidity and mosquitoes descend </span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When it’s considered too cold to go out </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A: Any hint of gray in the skies and, God-forbid, a little rain </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: It’s -20 AND you are unable to leave your house because the snow has completely buried your front door </span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The skin tone of the average resident </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: Neon orange </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: Blindingly white… similar to God’s aura </span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lSDamBn2vFA/T-uiKP_OPnI/AAAAAAAAAXw/U5DNfbC9Mv8/s1600-h/MN%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="MN" border="0" height="320" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RfTG8In1Kj0/T-uiL5sLxdI/AAAAAAAAAX4/4aG2S5MVeq0/MN_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 18px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="MN" width="154" /></a> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">A rustic weekend getaway </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: A cabin in Malibu overlooking the ocean, complete with room and maid service </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: An Ice fishing shack that doubles as an outhouse </span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Dinnertime </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A: 9 </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: 5:30 </span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">An example of showing solidarity </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: When the four officers involved in the Rodney King incident were acquitted, Angelinos rallied together to loot and terrorize their own city </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: When the 35W bridge collapsed over the Mississippi River, Minnesotans unflinchingly dove into the icy waters to rescue fellow citizens whom they had never even met </span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">An exciting celebrity sighting </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: Brad Pitt </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: The local weatherman </span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Feelings toward others </span></h3>
<span style="color: maroon;">L.A.: We kind of hate everyone, even ourselves but if you’re from the East Coast you’d better watch out </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">MN: Minnesota Nice – even strangers are treated like family</span><br />
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<span style="color: #000040;"><span style="color: black;">I'll send you some more comparisons a</span><span style="color: black;"> little later this week!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #000040;"><span style="color: black;">Dr. Em </span></span>Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-4160226178184753472012-06-11T03:08:00.000-05:002012-06-11T03:08:00.325-05:00Service Oriented Organization<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-27186874829025937222012-06-08T10:08:00.000-05:002012-06-08T10:08:57.155-05:00The QuestI'm so sorry I haven't been around, dear readers! Summer truly brings out the crazies, so as you can imagine, I have been extra busy. I have also been on a quest to find Malibu's most exclusive shopping excursion - the underwater Target.<br />
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I know what you're thinking... "Dr. Em, that's not real. Your stupid iPhone is playing tricks on you." But that's what they <i>want </i>you to think! I'm so getting a submarine this weekend.<br />
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Dr. EmDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-67296536944045683382012-06-07T02:26:00.001-05:002012-06-07T02:28:33.037-05:00Where Everyone Knows Your Name…But You Kinda Wish They Didn’t: The Final ChapterSorry all, I really did mean to be quick with this conclusion but those silly clients of mine insisted I work on their projects instead of writing. They just don’t understand priorities. If your just joining in here’s <a href="http://emandweeproductions.blogspot.com/2012/06/where-everybody-knows-your-namebut-you.html#more" target="_blank">Part One</a> and <a href="http://emandweeproductions.blogspot.com/2012/06/where-everyone-knows-your-namebut-you.html#more" target="_blank">Part Two</a>.<br />
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<img align="right" alt="" height="237" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSj-woGmE4jY4HSOz_PqPhP6X3MLe86r8IPtzYeGZokZjZKLRH_" style="display: inline; float: right;" width="193" /><br />
So, Betsy and I had found our new oasis and of course had to share it with all our regular happy hour hang out crew. A bit of convincing was required since this new bar did not offer a weekly <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meat_raffle" target="_blank">Meat Raffle</a> (if a quizzical look just crossed your face…you’ve been missing out!) Betsy and I extolled the virtues of a closed in patio with cheap drinks verses the chance to win a pack of pork chops. We were finally able to get the group to agree to check the place out.<br />
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Of course, as soon as we arrived and ordered our booze filled plastic cups everyone fell in love. We found an empty table outside and began our traditional happy hour routine. Then ended the evening agreeing that this would indeed be our new go to bar.<br />
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The happy hour crew consists of Betsy, myself, Amy and Karen. There are also random appearances by significant others and roommates. We always stick to ourselves talking about work, trips and family, nothing more serious or controversial. We usually hanging out for about 2-3 hours, drinking 3-4 drinks. I tend to join in the fun about twice a month, the others meet up a bit more often. It’s always chill and dramaless, which is why it’s so much fun.<br />
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<img align="right" alt="" height="196" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT0wk3-KsP-mv0OVRxzw37rK03uXRL4JnjVLqdkfylDYX-VqzIiJw" style="display: inline; float: right;" width="257" /><br />
By the time I joined up with the crew at The Southern Castle for another happy hour everything had changed! It was horrible! Betsy, Amy and Karen had found another perk at the Castle…unlimited self-esteem boosts! I’m all for looking nice and getting a little high from random compliments but these girls had turned getting compliments into some kind of crack! And I’m not talking dressing trashy to get cat calls from sleazy strangers. Oh no…apparently the crew had taken to showing up at the Castle 2 to 3 times a week! They were now friends with all the regulars and were getting their fix from them.<br />
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I went out to the patio and Betsy, Karen and Amy were sitting at a table with a group of people that <i>maybe</i> had 5 teeth between them, one looked as though he hadn’t showered in weeks, another was wearing a dirty button down shirt that didn’t button over his belly and the youngest of the group was at least in her mid-fifties! These characters had all added charm to The Southern Castle when we first came but it had never been my intention to hang out with them. But you can’t judge a book by it’s cover so, I went over, sat down and what I saw made the bile rise up in my throat.<br />
<img alt="" height="190" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRmJM9GaXY6VjcMKToigwyS8OnV0DprPsedmYVYjuJDjb1arm32fg" style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="266" /><br />
Betsy, Karen and Amy were flirting with these men and letting the women fawn over them! Okay, I’m really not a mean person and the sickness that rose from witnessing the scene in front of me actually had nothing to do with the Castle regulars or their appearance. It was the girls! They had turned into something…I don’t know what but it was like they had become different people willing to do anything for a nod or wink from a 70 year old man! It was absolutely insane! These were independent, smart and successful women (one engaged and one in a relationship) reduced to blathering idiots petting the unemployed drunk, who’d been at the bar since noon, just get a shot of self-esteem!<br />
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<img align="left" alt="" height="206" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTZPNbKOecZWbvNeSkfR7qw7hL5b5LCIyvL-HRRLWohLbASLUhJ" style="display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 12px 0px 0px;" width="208" />I ran out of there as fast as I could! I don’t know what happened during the happy hours without me but something had changed them. Since then, I have been invited out to the Castle several times, I always say no. I’ve tried in vein to get the crew to meet up somewhere else, they always say no. Finally, last week I decided that maybe I had over reacted and went back.<br />
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<img align="right" alt="" height="182" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS1BvxJRwKj-Tus3e38xqo7WlGuxsyIxzx8Z4fokpwj-L6xC3E_" style="display: inline; float: right;" width="144" /><br />
It was exactly the same, at least I was ready for it this time. I stayed a bit longer than before to see if I could decipher exactly what was going on…but there was no explanation. The chill conversations of our past were replaced by odd, incoherent ramblings about social security and alien invasions. The few drinks we normally took in had turned to shots of tequila (I nursed a gin and tonic). It was 8 pm when I just could not stand it any longer but the other three stayed and told me they normally stayed until bar close. One of them had already quit her job!<br />
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<img alt="" height="225" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTvfJvdTrJKX5fLFQeb_cLbMQZIkbnYilafns_YbqSA_2KjVk6k3w" style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="225" />I’m not saying the locals at The Southern Castle are some sort of townie bar vampires or that the Castle Kool-Aid is laced with some weird drug…but now I have to find a new happy hour crew.<br />
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<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ItOMjJphRI4/T9BXlc0TGLI/AAAAAAAAAV4/TctpZ9HlgjM/s1600-h/Tweaking%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Tweaking" border="0" height="320" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Cvh1FLun3gI/T9BXl8wESPI/AAAAAAAAAWA/xcBVk2cxw6k/Tweaking_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Tweaking" width="407" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-d1tet13OEo0/T9BXmM92ozI/AAAAAAAAAWI/tdJhf7qRYk8/s1600-h/Calling%252520for%252520a%252520fix%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Calling for a fix" border="0" height="330" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-h8nd0I-4p6w/T9BXmpcOcAI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/waSBRRUdN4s/Calling%252520for%252520a%252520fix_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Calling for a fix" width="409" /></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Vv2jTFdi7J4/T9BXnLc67yI/AAAAAAAAAWY/By150_D-f5E/s1600-h/Waiting%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Waiting" border="0" height="335" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-f1iGWMFl3QU/T9BXnjNexlI/AAAAAAAAAWg/SagVf9mCw9I/Waiting_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Waiting" width="414" /></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BVTWr7BT75o/T9BXoO_bBnI/AAAAAAAAAWo/dFT6Jew8Dls/s1600-h/Finally%252520Happy%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img alt="Finally Happy" border="0" height="344" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ihVuhLpuQVg/T9BXovAPMyI/AAAAAAAAAWw/nRCa_VT2hrs/Finally%252520Happy_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Finally Happy" width="414" /></a><br />
I hope it was worth the wait!<br />
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Princess WeeWeeDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-59691353948297243622012-06-03T02:22:00.004-05:002012-06-03T02:22:47.920-05:00Where Everyone Knows Your Name…But You Kinda Wish They Didn’t Part 2If you missed part one and don’t want to be totally lame by reading completely out of order <a href="http://emandweeproductions.blogspot.com/2012/06/where-everybody-knows-your-namebut-you.html">click here</a>.<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5oQO92BL-jw/T8sP1KcNFZI/AAAAAAAAAUo/oaQhc9uxidA/s1600-h/Bad%252520Boys%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Bad Boys" border="0" height="206" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uzxR1gNHhGA/T8sP1kA6SGI/AAAAAAAAAUw/McndcJ2Zdh4/Bad%252520Boys_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Bad Boys" width="136" /></a><br />
Anyway, we had trekked back to the car, <i>I only survived by promising myself this little jaunt would count as my exercise for the next two weeks</i>, and began our hunt for a nearby watering hole. Driving down Lowry Avenue, which still makes me giggle by reminding me of Martin Lawrence in Bad Boys “Cuz, I’m Mike Low-rey”, even though I’d been traversing that road long before the movie came out. The mind can be very odd sometimes. But back to driving on Lowry…<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Betsy and I first came upon Club 402, I slowed the car, we both craned our necks to check it out then Betsy said “Wait, isn’t <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WCNXbDHyPlw/T8sP2G0J7vI/AAAAAAAAAU4/vvFuAsuAuII/s1600-h/bar%252520402%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="bar 402" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-8i7bLoDeAC0/T8sP2ZtkS8I/AAAAAAAAAVA/nUItdjO7SzA/bar%252520402_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 11px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="bar 402" width="107" /></a>that the place on news?” “Huh? What place?” I replied having basically stopped in the road to have this discussion. Don’t worry, I was mostly to the side and there were no other cars coming or going; they were all at Loco Louie’s. Staring at the skinny, black, windowless building Betsy nodded, “Yep, that’s the place where the owner hires dealers as bus boys to attract business.” So, that was a no, we kept on moving.<br />
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Next we rolled up to Stanlav’s, it looked fine…meaning the signs were all intact, there was a parking lot with some cars but not too many and a normal looking dude hanging out by the front door. We both assumed the guy had stepped out for a cigarette…being a no smoking state, seeing patrons lingering outside bar entrances is a common sight. I parked the car however, before we actually got out of the car to check out this new establishment, Betsy and I noticed that the guy in front of the door was not smoking, not talking on a cell, not doing anything but standing there in all black and wearing giant sunglasses.<br />
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Yes, I know what you all are thinking, it was the first thing that popped into our head too…it’s a bouncer. One big issue with that assumption caused Betsy and <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hBc16IeWyfk/T8sP2lQoWWI/AAAAAAAAAVI/vPKKt7Ox44s/s1600-h/russian%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="russian" border="0" height="101" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IPNc5QxfPpw/T8sP2zoiigI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/IOA139xUpVY/russian_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="russian" width="91" /></a>I to take a closer look at our surroundings, Bars in Minneapolis do not have bouncers at 5 pm…I’ve never even heard of such a thing! So, we became a bit weary then as we scanned the parking lot an odd pattern emerged. Every single car (except my mid-range crossover) was a luxury four door sedan or SUV and everyone was either beige, black or navy blue. This may not seem significant unless you understand the neighborhood we were in…this is a place where lower middle class people lived and college kids and hipsters hung out. I’d seen Goodfellas too many times to do anything other than turn my car around and get out of there.<br />
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Today, that bar is named Stanley’s and is actually a very nice, upscale restaurant and bar…they have excellent chicken nachos!<br />
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A block down the road we came upon another nondescript bar call the Southern Castle granted the paint was a bit chipped and the parking lot was more of just an over sized driveway but outside were two men and a woman in their mid-fifties wearing jeans and sweatshirts and smoking cigarettes. We decided to check the place out…crossing our fingers it would be at least a notch above shady because by this point we could’ve totally made it back to our normal hangout. I parked in the one space left in the tiny lot, stuffed whatever I could in my pockets, buried my purse under the seat and Betsy and I headed toward the front door.<br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kMn1Al0S3Go/T8sP3Ye4qGI/AAAAAAAAAVY/dwdQiCDZ_J0/s1600-h/castle%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="castle" border="0" height="184" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-b9qFb3kbIl8/T8sP4Mlea3I/AAAAAAAAAVg/xeO-DKO-Z1Y/castle_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="castle" width="244" /></a>Once inside, we were pleasantly surprised…we had managed to stumble into a townie bar in the middle of the city! For those of you not familiar with the term, a townie bar is one of those places you find in super small towns; a few tables, no frills and only patronized by locals. The Southern Castle had a bar down one wall, two highboys, three booths and one Buck Shot video game…nothing else. As we made out way up to the bar we noticed they had no beer on tap but offered Castle Kool-Aid from a jug along the back wall. We had stumbled into northern Minnesota lake country without having to leave the city! It was fun and then got way more fun!<br />
<img align="left" alt="" height="98" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSWamShBN09R-tRmLob0xAgLVsF6iTJYFPDKhQQ6G6OxrpX1dBnQg" style="display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 13px 0px 0px;" width="130" />We ordered our drinks and were informed that well drinks at the Castle were $2.50 and from 4 to 7 were 2 for one! Seriously?! Who cares that our drinks came in plastic cups and they only accepted cash…this could not get any better…and then it did!<br />
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There was a sliding door at the back of the bar, we walked over to check out what may be out back…I can only imagine this is what the little girl in the Secret<img align="right" alt="" height="226" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT0uuhOftlgXSqD63UMHujTAAToB0r4kLrwseLxOUJ0BBR_xAnrRw" style="display: inline; float: right;" width="181" /> Garden felt when she first pushed open that ivy covered door. We stepped from the drab, almost crumbling bar into an oasis! That sliding door revealed a patio surrounded by a pristine privacy fence, flanked with a glittering fountain on one side and perfectly manicured gardens on the others. In the center sat rock fire basins, umbrellaed tables and high end deck chairs! The sight was utterly amazing! <br />
It was something beyond love at first sight. Betsy and I could not imagine going anywhere else for after work happy hours ever again. We spent a wonderful, chill evening basking in our good fortune.<br />
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But…why does there always have to be a but? This “but” grew slowly until one day I had to say goodbye to the Southern Castle and the friends I had invited to that enchanted pavilion. <br />
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Sorry all! I totally thought I’d wrap up my story in this post…oops. But really how could I pass up mentioning almost walking into a Russian mob bar? I promise to be quick with the conclusion!<br />
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Princess WeeWeeDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-16596413626798749942012-06-01T21:28:00.000-05:002012-06-01T21:28:53.854-05:00Where Everybody Knows Your Name…But You Kinda Wish They Didn’t Part 1A few years ago a girlfriend (we’ll call her Betsy) and I decided to check out this super hip joint with a spectacular patio after work. We were pretty jaz<img align="right" alt="247628_l" border="0" height="112" src="http://weddingmapper.s3.amazonaws.com/assets/photos/20/44/247628_l.jpg" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" width="103" />zed about going somewhere new and being adventurous. Normally, we went to the same bar with the same friends, ordered the same drinks and told the same stories. But it was one of the first warm days of the season and we wanted to do something special.<br />
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We pulled up to Loco Louie’s, known for their giant tiki drinks and deviled eggs, but the parking lot was <img align="left" alt="" border="0" height="179" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRInhdXiqGkX0zCDEfqEvJk3KW8Y259cDd6omH7ubfH4C1Bmzfy" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 11px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" width="141" />overflowing. It was then we noticed the street in front of the bar was filled on both sides as far as the eye could see. We hesitated for a second, did we really want to walk a mile to get to a bar that was obviously overcrowded? Our desire to be one of the “cool kids” and do something different overtook any reservations we had.<br />
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So, we drove the mile to an empty piece of curb, parked and started the trek back to Loco Louie’s. We arrived at the famed bar covered in sweat and parched beyond belief. But we figured it was no big deal; everyone had to be in the same condition…we all had to travel the baked sidewalks to get here.<br />
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We followed the path to the back patio, overlooking the Mississippi, with great anticipation. We could hear<img align="right" alt="" height="92" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQAqhNNvA_9S6W1ipOWBuzy-7O5Lpr7lyGy-897fsKddm--Adb5" style="display: inline; float: right;" width="96" /> the music beating out an island tune; saw fellow patrons wandering near the parking lot with drinks in coconuts and adorned with umbrellas. Betsy and I gave each other a knowing look; we had totally made the right decision.<br />
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As we rounded the corner to the bar and patio area our expectations were dashed! The place was so crowded you couldn’t move let alone even fathom were the bar was to order a drink. Yet all these “beautiful people” were perfectly coifed, had drinks in there hands and looked as though they had just stepped out of a J. Crew catalog. <img alt="" height="181" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSrhLSALi_7jOWtv9aDhqkj_DPsLhDkuS9F2r0LzDSwdYoNGtoS8Q" style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="278" />Don’t get me wrong, Betsy and I aren’t wallflowers; we normally turn a few heads when we’re out and about but we had come straight from work, it was only 5:00 in the evening! So, while everyone else looked as though they had just stepped off a yacht, in their linen pants, skimpy dresses and Bermuda shots; Betsy and I stood at the edge of the crowd in what we considered after work casual…slacks and blouses with one extra button undone.<br />
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Regardless of our slightly inappropriate attire, we were at the trendy bar and we were going to stay. Betsy and I began squirming our way to where we thought the <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-LCEIOyCB0NA/T8l5iNJ4FFI/AAAAAAAAAUE/fU_Q3CAl-IY/s1600-h/old%252520lady%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="old lady" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SchVXelkHUQ/T8l5il1TDBI/AAAAAAAAAUM/kidSAt8viA0/old%252520lady_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 9px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="old lady" width="152" /></a>bar must be; guided only by an intuition earned from my days of pub crawls.<br />
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We managed to site the bar and inch our way toward it only to be rudely halted by a middle aged woman in a terrycloth bathing suit cover up, worn as a dress, minus the proper under garments. She shot her arm out in front of us like a police barricade, then glared and spewed “don’t even think about cutting in line.”<br />
Utterly confused because we were at least 30 feet from the bar and staring at an unorganized gaggle of people, Betsy and I slinked back into a corner to strategize.<br />
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-amxANMXi0Ic/T8l5ixTaB0I/AAAAAAAAAUU/dmaTE3rfd2U/s1600-h/Bar%252520App%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Bar App" border="0" height="180" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PenXl2IIUdU/T8l5jMYSSYI/AAAAAAAAAUc/Qb4ARGpF3TY/Bar%252520App_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Bar App" width="115" /></a><br />
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Immediately, we both agreed that no matter how “happening” Loco Louie’s was, we could not stay. But what next? We didn’t to go back to our usual hangout; this was our adventurous night! We thought for a while, not knowing that in a few short years we would all have fancy cell phones with apps to resolve all our problems.<br />
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Finally, we decided to go back to the car and drive down the main boulevard we were closest to and find another bar. Little did we know that this decision would change every happy hour from there on forward.<br />
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To be continued…Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-23909657086519282702012-05-23T21:35:00.000-05:002012-05-23T21:35:39.083-05:00And Then There Was One…Until Another Showed Up!I have spent the last week embroiled in an epic battle! Fighting a seemingly unstoppable enemy. An enemy that appears out of nowhere and replenishes it’s army in the blink of an eye. The situation became so dire I had to call in reinforcements. Who was this formidable adversary? None other than the cunning, despicable and persistent…<br />
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HOUSE FLY!!! Oh, don’t be fooled by their small stature and solitary existence, these hairy, flying pests are stronger than they look and secretly work together to acquire dominance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FkEFeX-4ZzI/T72bKZAG8NI/AAAAAAAAASw/BkelKPOo7VQ/s1600-h/Fly%252520Army%252520Planning%25255B8%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Fly Army Planning" border="0" height="403" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EzdxlxSEgHA/T72bMirmhlI/AAAAAAAAAS4/Pvl_Q_ubs0s/Fly%252520Army%252520Planning_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Fly Army Planning" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fly Inner Circle strategizing my demise!</td></tr>
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At first, it was one annoying fly, buzzing around while I was trying to work or sleep. I ignored it…I’m not about to go chasing around a lone fly. I should have taken a more offensive stance, that elusive creature was just the scout!<br />
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Soon, the <i>lone</i> fly wasn’t content buzzing behind the blinds or near the overhead lamp no, it insisted on buzzing right near my face! No matter where I was or what I was doing there was a big, black, ugly thing trying to land on me.<br />
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It was time for me to take action! I went to my hidden room and found the proper weapon then went to war! It wasn't long before I discovered the evil plot hatched by the secret fly army…every time I took out the invasive bug tangled in my hair another was ready to take it’s place! They were all in it together!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-crMSakktrI4/T72bNNVJGnI/AAAAAAAAATA/1g1iT4QBVag/s1600-h/Swat%25255B6%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Swat" border="0" height="401" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GNLWYsM4Nz4/T72bOYCLmmI/AAAAAAAAATI/xF6IHr7dh7E/Swat_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Swat" width="368" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll get you my pretties...I mean uglies</td></tr>
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This battalion of loathsome insects had devised a strategy to take over my home by over whelming me with their endless supply of henchmen! I was having none of that! I decided it was time to take out headquarters, except I had no clue where it might be.<br />
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I scrubbed and disinfected every nook and cranny in my house, all the while killing each pesky troop that had taken over for it's fallen comrade. Satisfied I had cleansed my dwelling, I began to relax.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RbiKoRStyxs/T72bPIlnv_I/AAAAAAAAATQ/wKCAJxA7MHg/s1600-h/Fly%252520Fight%25255B5%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Fly Fight" border="0" height="419" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QQ8E_soIxpQ/T72bPpywBKI/AAAAAAAAATY/cXvqSBIZkUw/Fly%252520Fight_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Fly Fight" width="394" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have mad skills!!!</td></tr>
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Then it happened…I was pleasantly reading…went to take a sip of wine…brought the glass up to my lips…caught something in my peripheral and let out a cry of frustration. There floating in my nearly full glass of Shiraz was one of those disgusting beasts!<br />
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This was the last straw…no one makes me dump out wine! <br />
I am a "let bygones be bygones" type of gal, I only killed those flies <i>after </i>they invaded my personal space; I wasn’t out to massacre the entire force. Now however, no more mister nice guy. I called in the big guns.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZRK2q50q46E/T72bQeGNJSI/AAAAAAAAATg/PPyzq0UOWuQ/s1600-h/The%252520Weinator%25255B8%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Weinator" border="0" height="307" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zgDCkujjsb4/T72bRODAgmI/AAAAAAAAATo/1ZWGlQVOcTg/The%252520Weinator_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="The Weinator" width="437" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No one messes with The Weinator!</td></tr>
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The Weinator came in and did what she does best…took care of business! In no time, there was not a fly in sight! No buzzing to be heard! No signs of an impending invasion! I swung around to thank The Weinator but she was gone.<br />
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The battle had been won but the war is still there lurking at every window and door.<br />
Don’t worry about me though, I am protected against a repeat occurrence. Military Me has been activated and is ensuring the security of my perimeter.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mVunVbvOdSk/T72bR8ZLf9I/AAAAAAAAATw/2kek4Pfk2zc/s1600-h/military%252520Me%25255B4%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="military Me" border="0" height="389" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JESGXbavM1c/T72bSeBGkLI/AAAAAAAAAT4/4mdr6aGDDRs/military%252520Me_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="military Me" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ever vigilant Military Me</td></tr>
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Here’s hoping everyone has a pest free summer!<br />
Princess WeeWeeDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-33759774345108175842012-05-16T22:28:00.000-05:002012-05-16T22:28:44.248-05:00Synergy<div style="text-align: center;">
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Attention all departments: Our company has been acquired by Daal Enterprises, please adjust appropriately.</h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48b6MlA5aoZIXY8nkzBz083zTAp50xhejtE4v2Ekq6rTsgmXhcqa7-BFt92YD43FlUzipMBt2Xa7XFgu4ckDiKdZ64lTVGwuwegsC4NgL5r8OdKWvbsbFoVevReDUcNm2ZDBwi6JIp19Y/s1600/scan0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48b6MlA5aoZIXY8nkzBz083zTAp50xhejtE4v2Ekq6rTsgmXhcqa7-BFt92YD43FlUzipMBt2Xa7XFgu4ckDiKdZ64lTVGwuwegsC4NgL5r8OdKWvbsbFoVevReDUcNm2ZDBwi6JIp19Y/s640/scan0001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Synergy</td></tr>
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<h3>
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<br />Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-77938167844876137852012-05-15T02:37:00.001-05:002012-05-15T02:37:28.529-05:00I Have Not Disappeared...But My Sanity Did Take A Leave of AbsenceI promise I haven't been avoiding you all. I'm pretty sure I was sucked into the<img align="right" border="0" height="161" src="http://theflickcast.com/wp-content/uploads//the-twilight-zone-tv-movie-poster-1020478176.jpeg" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" width="106" /> Twilight Zone last week...I'm still shaking off some of the weirdness that enveloped my world for ten days.<br />
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It all started with routine request from a consulting client. The client's accountant, Kelly, emailed me last Thursday afternoon asking for a copy of the invoice from a job I did last May. Apparently, their original copy had been misplaced.<br />
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<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sN45XBpoIjY/T7IGrv4NxnI/AAAAAAAAARM/oH3P0BgXIJc/s1600-h/Mr%252520Burns%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="Mr Burns" border="0" height="101" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_wn6ZQGp4EY/T7IGsHuD5JI/AAAAAAAAARU/BxN4zVrsrkI/Mr%252520Burns_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Mr Burns" width="92" /></a>I remember the job from last May well; the management team was creepy and wanted me to "tweak" my findings, which of course I didn't but I'm sure the board of directors did <i>not </i>get my complete report. And the employees I interviewed...I have never seen a gloomier bunch. The whole place gave me the willies. <br />
But whatever, the job was done and I never have to go back to that soul sucking site again. I responded back and told Kelly I'd email her a copy as soon as I could.<br />
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All totally normal so far...<br />
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I went to my file cabinet to make a quick copy of the invoice...but the invoice wasn't in the job folder. In fact, the only document in the folder was a release I had signed for a background check. I thought the lack of hard copy documents was odd but not that off setting; I try to print as little as possible. <br />
So, I went to my computer to get the invoice. But there was no corresponding job folder on my work drive. Assuming I must have somehow accidentally moved the <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mIqgHBR9-FQ/T7IGscOvClI/AAAAAAAAARc/RkOoYN243rY/s1600-h/Computer%252520Gremlin%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Computer Gremlin" border="0" height="195" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mYHxS3SIhUk/T7IGszzVhfI/AAAAAAAAARk/9eqI1Jc071s/Computer%252520Gremlin_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Computer Gremlin" width="195" /></a>folder, I began looking in other folders and drives. I even went through all my art and gallery files which are kept on a different computer...I put nothing past those evil little computer gremlins. <br />
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I finally, stumbled upon a shortcut to the correct job folder...but the shortcut went nowhere. I'm not talking nowhere as in the wastelands of temp folders, the shortcut was literally nothing more than an icon. I didn't panic, I never panic...I simply took a deep breath and patted myself on the back for regularly backing up all my files on an external drive. <br />
I plugged in the drive, navigated to to appropriate place and there was the folder I'd been searching for. I made a mental note to go back and figure out what had happen to the original and then double clicked the awaiting icon. It was empty!!! Oh, by the way we are now well into Saturday afternoon and I have accomplished absolutely nothing because this search had consumed me. <br />
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At this point, I started to question my sanity...maybe I had planned on doing the <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-W8X4GlS04-8/T7IGtNZiZgI/AAAAAAAAARs/MXLO-E1MQnk/s1600-h/real%252520dream%25255B15%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="real dream" border="0" height="188" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-N-1pAged0yA/T7IGtaYI6wI/AAAAAAAAAR0/yS0_iloxchY/real%252520dream_thumb%25255B12%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 9px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="real dream" width="156" /></a>job but never actually did it. Maybe the memories I have of that sad and sleazy company were all just a dream...it wouldn't be the first time that has happened but it would be the most elaborate fake dream memory ever. But my sanity was safe...for now. I always send my clients a soft copy of their invoice so, I would just have to delve into my Sent Items to find the right email...after I took a little mental break to work on my current sculpture.<br />
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So, Sunday I am back on my computer, this time sifting through a billion emails...okay, it wasn't that bad...yet. I popped into my sent folder, scrolled to May 2011 and started scanning subject lines for the correct email, nothing. I continued into June, perhaps the job went past the end of May, nothing. I went back to May, carefully reading each addressee and subject, still nothing! Then it occurred to me that I sent out a surprisingly low number of emails last May so, I took a closer look at the dates...May 9, 2011 - May 17, 2011 were gone!<br />
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-T9B-of1Xwyc/T7IGt6_xrDI/AAAAAAAAAR8/UEAcbTT7mIg/s1600-h/Calendar%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Microsoft Word - Document4" border="0" height="172" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KJvaMwrCyG4/T7IGuMoNWwI/AAAAAAAAASE/65yVQgrF0dM/Calendar_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: right; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Microsoft Word - Document4" width="244" /></a> <br />
<br />
I spent all Sunday and half of Monday pouring through every possible email folder this lost week and a half of sent emails could have disappeared to. All I found was a dry thank you email from one of the managers after the completion of the job. I spent the remainder of Monday going through all my computer files again. Tuesday morning I plugged my external hard drive in to see if the files had landed in a different folder. All of a sudden the drive is corrupt! It let me access two folders of music and denied me access to everything else. I started a scan of the drive to try and recover what I could. <br />
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I can't use my computer while it's scanning so, I had time to think about what had happened to all the records pertaining to this job. <br />
<br />
Here is my conclusion... <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">The company that hired me is actually a front for an organization plotting to<img align="left" alt="" border="0" height="183" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQrEg_ldFag3K-dDM1ukdupIf9wwOPbmpoXoSGbYnKHIKHak8AS" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin: 0px 13px 0px 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" width="134" /> take over the world. It is led by a group of evil warlocks posing as managers. </span><br />
<span style="color: #000040;"> </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">They use their sinister powers to keep the employees sightless of their dirty deeds but doing so saps all the energy and happiness from these poor individuals. </span><br />
<span style="color: #000040;"> </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">To keep their activities shrouded in darkness they have set the company up under a larger managing corporation, this means they have to submit doctored reports to stay accountable. </span><br />
<span style="color: #000040;"> </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">The Board, suspecting the "managers" weren't being entirely truthful forced them to hire an outside consultant, me. After I completed my report they edited it to fit their needs.</span><br />
<span style="color: #000040;"> </span> <br />
<span style="color: #000040;">They needed to cover their tracks though, in case any one ever asked to see my copy of the report. So, the warlocks used a magic spell to command the gremlins living in my computer to erase all my documentation. Then they enlisted one of the squatter cats to infiltrate my house and steal the hard copies.<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZAC8uZYnd-I/T7IGucdunUI/AAAAAAAAASM/zQTx0TXpOqQ/s1600-h/squatter%252520cats%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img alt="squatter cats" border="0" height="61" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-P58mFR5vK7I/T7IGu0CLj7I/AAAAAAAAASU/F8w-6bh2k4w/squatter%252520cats_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="squatter cats" width="244" /></a></span>I've thought long and hard about all the possibilities and this definitely the most likely scenario.<br />
<br />
To avoid angering the evil warlocks, this morning I called my accountant and had him send Kelly a copy of the invoice.<br />
<br />
Princess WeeWeeDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-34813428337171394172012-05-06T17:16:00.000-05:002012-05-06T17:16:01.428-05:00Common Sense... it's a thing.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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So, my husband and I were driving to Hollywood the other day
when we saw a white Toyota fly by in the carpool lane, going about 85. A
clearly marked Highway Patrol car zipped in behind him and flipped on his
siren. I’m not gonna lie, a little part of me was rooting for a high-speed
chase. They’re so much fun. But what followed, was just bizarre. <o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
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The Toyota slowed to about 65, the speed limit, and
continued on. This would make sense if the police car did not already have its lights
on… but of course it did. The “chase” continued for about 10 miles, with the
Toyota never making any attempt to speed away or move right in the surprisingly
light L.A. traffic. I, of course, was glued to the window, screaming at my
husband to maintain their speed so I could watch the whole thing unfold.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Finally, the Toyota awkwardly put on his blinker… his left
blinker… and “pulled over” in the carpool lane. Refusing to be part of the
lookly-lou brigade that suddenly stopped traffic on I-5, we were only able to
catch the Highway Patrolman pulling behind the brainiac and screaming simply
and elegantly into his bullhorn: “NO” before we drove away from the scene.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Geez,” I said to my husband, “They seriously give driver’s
licenses to anyone! They should make people take a basic common sense test
before issuing those things out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Why?” he asked, “We let people get married and procreate
without common sense. Why not drive?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This got me thinking – there are a lot of things in this
world that would be better if we required a basic common sense test. You know,
like where they ask you questions such as, “Which end of the baby is up?” and
“True or False – Crocodiles make good pets?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Since there are so many, I'm just going to list my top 20 activities I
feel should require a common sense test. Feel free to add your own in comments.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Have
children – Just because you’re 16 and MTV is paying you does not qualify you to
make babies. That being said, being 30 and not paid by MTV also does not
qualify you. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Name
children – Moroccan is not a name. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Get
married – Shockingly, a marriage follows that super fun wedding you planned.
Maybe you should put a tiny bit of thought into that as well, brides.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Drive
a car – Try driving five miles in L.A. Once you stop weeping, you’ll beg for
this test… and population control.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Own
a pet – all pets, even a rock.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Vote
– This would totally screw the politicians.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Hold
a protest – You’ll find having a defined point and no streakers makes these much
more effective. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Lead
a religion – Sorry Catholics…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->9.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Use
the Internet – Ok, you can use some parts. I mean, the economy would collapse
completely if we only used common sense when shopping online. But no more
commenting on news stories you barely skimmed, posting YouTube videos or Tweeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->10.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Work
at Taco Bell – If I have three tacos, why do you get all confused when I tell
you two packets of hot sauce is not enough? A 5-year-old could figure that out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->11.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Write
a book – Paris Hilton “wrote” a book. We need to stop this madness. Seriously,
for the children.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->12.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Join
the military – We give these guys loaded weapons, maybe we should ensure they
know which end the bullet comes out of.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->13.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Be a
cop – what a world that would be! Rather than ticketing me for going three
miles over the limit you could ticket all those A-holes blocking the box and
backing up traffic, or, I don’t know…solve a crime. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->14.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Run
a school system – Have a five-minute conversation with any graduate of the L.A.
Unified School System and you’ll find yourself asking, “So, you graduated? And
it was a <i>real </i>school? Not like in the
basement of some church? Okay, well, there are <i>seven </i>continents not three and Obama is the 44<sup>th</sup>
president, not the 12<sup>th</sup>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->15.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Drink
alcohol – you need to first possess those extra brain cells before you can kill
them off, otherwise you end up with Snooki. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]-->16.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Run
a neighborhood association – I’m all for rules that ensure my neighbors never
put tireless cars out on the front lawn or paint a rebel flag across their
garage, but ticketing me for leaving my running shoes on the front porch? Come
on!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->17.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Design
fashion – Whoever came up with skinny jeans should be shot in the face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->18.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Run a
radio station – by all means, if little girls get all riled up over Justin
Beiber then he should continue to make millions off them. I, however, should
not have to be subjected to it on my morning drive to work. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->19.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Make
movies – I’m sure thousands of idiots across this great country have written a
“brilliant” screenplay, and I applaud their efforts. Hobbies are healthy. But
who keeps letting movies like Epic Movie and Disaster Movie <i>actually</i> get made?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->20.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Own
a gun – The only reason this is so low on the list is because the Darwin Awards
make me laugh so much and like 80 percent are idiots with guns stories. It’d be
sad to see those go. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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You’ll note the use of recreational vehicles (4-wheelers,
snow mobiles, etc.), ice fishing, hunting and gambling didn’t make the list. I
didn’t forget about them. I just think they are effective tools in weeding out
the dumber members of the species. It’s not evil, people, it’s natural
selection.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also left off starring in a reality show, because how much
fun would it be to watch sane people full of common sense?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dr. Em<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-17425756953108707322012-05-05T17:28:00.000-05:002012-05-05T19:34:31.664-05:00Foreign Policy is Easy<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Have you ever been to Iraq or North
Korea? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They’re miserable places. Let me give you a hint based on actual
experience. The Iraqis aren’t happy. Not because they deeply believe in some
religious reason, not because they hate America, not because they’ve been
wronged. They’re unhappy because they live in a desolate desert and have
NOTHING. Guess what? Air conditioning and X-Box literally cause happiness. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You
can say whatever you want, but I’ve seen the truth. Air conditioning and X-Box
CAUSE happiness. Get on this America. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Dr. Em</div>Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-38630948965180339662012-05-03T22:25:00.000-05:002012-05-05T18:37:08.865-05:00Princess WeeWee, There is No Santa Claus.I would like to thank <a href="http://lolais40.com/" target="_blank">Lola</a> for inspiring me to share this story from long, long ago.... <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR260eUangYrTWLzpdayqYWFA5FGjvsgJYv_hQBjD7OsurpBQHL" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="172" data-width="293" height="117" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR260eUangYrTWLzpdayqYWFA5FGjvsgJYv_hQBjD7OsurpBQHL" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Easter in MN</span></h2>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSVTHkCIcL97nHnaj3uhTaTsH5aYSsoHVjsZrrKCJFRltQ3K6UXTQ" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
Our tale of the loss of innocence begins on a typical Minnesota Easter morning.<br />
<br />
If you have never had the joy of donning a parka, hat and mittens over your lovely spring inspired Easter outfit...you've been missing out!<br />
<a name='more'></a><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The entire family, plus a few cousins, was piled into our extra fancy station wagon. We were on our way home from a pleasant Easter morning church service. Everyone in the car was excited about the feast and merriment waiting at the house. Us kids, we couldn't stop jabbering about what might be waiting in our Easter baskets. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We spent the trip home, in our respective assigned seats, mapping out strategies to find the hidden treasures left by the Easter Bunny. In our home, children were expected to work for their presents from mystical beings, including Cupid, St Patrick and Uncle Sam. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXw0eaDsMuyKs4ar5SN8kO_VvPjAbXLbgYO-urbz1ucR7A2WlRhlJ3LFI7qauBVmkMrSpO9Q2F-8utgRvsDKaJMYM7VTYHHgjTKs0eekJme_rRkBpuDIpwt81Vu5r70rvTOZ1vE_7uDYF/s1600/easter+eggs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="68" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXw0eaDsMuyKs4ar5SN8kO_VvPjAbXLbgYO-urbz1ucR7A2WlRhlJ3LFI7qauBVmkMrSpO9Q2F-8utgRvsDKaJMYM7VTYHHgjTKs0eekJme_rRkBpuDIpwt81Vu5r70rvTOZ1vE_7uDYF/s320/easter+eggs.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Working for gifts in our home was defined as finding the gift. I wouldn't be surprised if some little girl has stumbled upon a random Barbie or two in the past ten years. I remember a time it took almost a week for me to find my dollar from the Tooth Fairy!<br />
<br />
I have digressed...there were five of us kids in the car that fateful Easter morning. We five, dressed to the nines, were convinced that by banning together, we were on our way toward defeating the trickery of the Easter Bunny. We each had sectors, with code names, to scope out. This was to be an "All for One" excursion.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQwABderCDrxynpt7bNlvgXfsjnc-_ki3CXMytUzijxkTEvdkaR" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="200" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQwABderCDrxynpt7bNlvgXfsjnc-_ki3CXMytUzijxkTEvdkaR" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor Easter Bunny</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then suddenly, a few feet away from our driveway, the car swerved wildly. We all shot to the windows to see what dad had narrowly missed. Shouts filled the car "Ewww!" "Cool!" "Oh, the poor thing!" "Can we get out and look at it?" "Yuck!" "Do you think it went to heaven?" "I think I'm going to be sick." then one shout rang out above the rest...<br />
<br />
"It's the EASTER BUNNY!!!!!!" Everyone turned to the back end right seat with gasps of horror. Me and two cousins burst into tears, Dr Em and our other cousin were laughing hysterically. Dad had pulled into the garage by this time and was already heading out to the street with a trash bag and shovel. Mom was hustling everyone out of the car and into the house consoling those of us crying, telling us "Of course it wasn't the Easter Bunny, it was just a plain rabbit and of course it went to heaven." All the while glaring at Dr Em.<br />
<br />
Mom got everyone to calm down by hinting at the location of a stash of eggs and let us eat them before brunch. As the five of us huddled together on the living room floor eating colored eggs and finalizing or search plans, Dr Em leaned forward and motioned us all to follow. Then she whispered so diabolical I can still hear it when I'm lying alone in the dark trying to get to sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
"There are no Easter baskets..." We all stared agape. I finally stuttered "W-w-w-what do you mean, Dr Em?" "Mom lied to you. That was the Easter Bunny outside." The two younger cousins started to cry again and I was still staring at Dr Em in disbelief when our other cousin piped up. "So what if the Easter Bunny's dead? We still get Easter Baskets!" Everyone turned back to Dr Em in anticipation.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJWPhtaxGTr3h1aiDn6iNOADiYU7QLqFgYEkdwvoEHKA_O72gzpI2DI53chLW8TSXGSWsAtGPAryJwYMWii5Rgujt_u6yCtX0NUwMPbVtxm2piG8uXTDyR-jrGkYZeq3yG4RwpiP2PaHx/s1600/scary+em.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJJWPhtaxGTr3h1aiDn6iNOADiYU7QLqFgYEkdwvoEHKA_O72gzpI2DI53chLW8TSXGSWsAtGPAryJwYMWii5Rgujt_u6yCtX0NUwMPbVtxm2piG8uXTDyR-jrGkYZeq3yG4RwpiP2PaHx/s1600/scary+em.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scary Dr Em</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I swear, at this moment the lights dimmed and a strange glow lit up Dr Em's face. She looked around the circle at each of us one by one then slowly in an almost inaudible whisper said "No, no Easter baskets. You see the bunny in the road was facing this way, that means it was on it's way to our house to deliver our treats." We were too stunned to say anything. Dr Em continued on with her tale of horror, "Since the Easter Bunny was killed on the way to our house, to deliver <i>your</i> Easter basket," She looked straight into my eyes as she finished destroying my childhood, "It's your fault the Easter Bunny is dead! No one will ever get another Easter basket!"<br />
<br />
I screamed "Noooooo!!! Mom said it's not the Easter bunny!" The two younger cousins were in tears again and Dr Em and our other cousin were rolling around tears in their eyes from laughing so hard. Mom came rushing into the room with a spatula dripping pancake batter on the carpet, "What is going on here!"<br />
<br />
In an unintelligible, screeching voice I blubbered to my mom, "It's not my fault! I didn't mean it! Everyone is going to hate me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" My mom knelt down confused and the younger cousin cried out in unison "She killed the Easter Bunny!" Mom pulled me into her lap and stroked my hair "Oh, honey. I told you that isn't the Easter Bunny. There's nothing to worry about." "But Dr Em said and how do you know it isn't the Easter Bunny and there's no Easter baskets!"<br />
<br />
Mom told Dr Em to sit up and tell me the truth and she did....<br />
<br />
"Fine. Princess WeeWee, you didn't kill the Easter Bunny. That would be impossible since there is NO EASTER BUNNNY!!!! Hahahahahaha!"<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZFTsQIjHYBVeH5J2hKkcmaB8trSUGx04DiKt6qLc7RrFNtwUKpi7DxmjMExw9Dhf82PwBmku2gpv0qL_Cee4VKmMfbbkF6419-eoxOdG4o9rqNXGmtD_-cWm40XO-8WB5i76SJBdNuiP/s1600/Devil+Em.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCZFTsQIjHYBVeH5J2hKkcmaB8trSUGx04DiKt6qLc7RrFNtwUKpi7DxmjMExw9Dhf82PwBmku2gpv0qL_Cee4VKmMfbbkF6419-eoxOdG4o9rqNXGmtD_-cWm40XO-8WB5i76SJBdNuiP/s320/Devil+Em.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See Princess WeeWee is an angel!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That day a little piece of me died as mom explained to me and two weeping cousins that everyone; the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, The Great Pumpkin were all make believe.Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-23361304377428226302012-05-01T01:50:00.001-05:002012-05-05T19:29:42.178-05:00Yeah, this is actually what I do on weekends<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I stumbled upon this dog IQ test over the weekend and
thought it would be fun to try out. I know. I need more hobbies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I love both my pups equally, but
clearly they weren’t exactly created equal. Selina is the ruler of my little
roost. She's my little evil genius and can literally bend any person or creature to her whim. Remy, on the
other hand… well, Remy’s Remy. He runs into walls, falls off couches and is
deathly afraid of the kitties.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As you can imagine, I had expectations of how it would go. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
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</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The test had six parts:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Place a treat under a cup while they watch, and
time how long it takes them to retrieve it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Put a blanket over them completely and time how
long it takes them to find their way out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Place a treat under a dishtowel while they watch
and see how long it takes them to retrieve it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Tell them to sit, then move about two meters
away from them and just smile at them – do they come?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Place a treat under a low surface that they can
reach under, but can’t fit under (I used the couch) while they watch and time
how long it takes them to retrieve it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
6.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Tell them to sit, walk two meters away and then
call out “Refrigerator” (unless that’s your dog’s name… in which case you’re an
idiot). Try a few other words, then call his/her name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After wrangling up my husband to be my unhappy assistant and
retrieving a block of cheese for treats, I was ready to begin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Test 1: The treat under a cup. Colossal failure on both
parts. I kept trying to help them by pointing at the cups, but Selina sat down
and stared at me, expectantly waiting for her treat while Remy chewed on her
ear. Off to a super start.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Test 2: The pups under a blanket. All four of our critters
sleep in the bed with us, under the covers, so this was a no-brainer. Remy,
excited by the game, immediately shot out from under the blanket. Selina,
apparently bored with the game, laid down for a nap. Ok, Remy: 5, Selina: 0.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Test 3: The treat under the towel. Selina took a few
minutes, then flipped up the towel with her nose and retrieved her treat. Remy
walked around it once, then chewed on Selina’s ear. Score tied.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Test 4: Smile at them to come. The initial problem with this
test is the “have them sit and stay” part. My pups only sit for a treat. There
was clearly a flaw in my training with Selina because I brilliantly taught her
to sit for a treat, but she’s too much of a brat for that to cross over. She
knows when I have a treat and when I don’t and she sees no use in sitting when
I don’t. Remy has no training. He just does whatever his big sister does… which
is acting like a brat. Anyway, for this test I had my lovely assistant Mat hold
them while I walked across the living room and flashed a smile. Remy ran to me
as fast as he could, tail wagging, tongue hanging out. Selina bolted in the
opposite direction, leapt up on the coffee table and snatched the block of
cheese I left sitting there. Damn it. So, Remy: 10, Selina: 5<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Test 5: Treat under the couch. I grabbed two actual dog
treats, as my cheese was now gone, and placed them under the couch. Remy dove
for them, wildly flailing his front paws under the couch until he had one and
pulled it out. Selina jumped up and laid on the couch. I’m guessing she was
full from the cheese. Remy: 15, Selina: 5<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Test 6: Call for “refrigerator.” I got the pups all settled
down with me on the couch and then had Mat call out from the next room. Remy
bolted for him. Selina lifted her ears, looked at me, and laid back down. With
Remy in the next room I called out, “Movies!” In he ran, so excited to be
playing this back and forth game. Then I had Mat yell for them individually by
name. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Remy!” In he ran. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Selina!” In he ran again. That’s my boy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Selina sat up, ears perked, and looked to me. She clearly recognized her name, but again,
her belly was already filled with cheese and she doesn’t budge without
motivation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Final score: Remy: 17, Selina: 5 <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hmmmm… maybe my Remy is a little genius after all? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCg2ozeFDpuVM94sfMq6rzeay-l0tHrnFNHplkvyEawJpUWZkf2CBS3C5G-X_bqAFAk9_yMHY4AqO7aFCv51PjQ_Kaqae_HOG8olQKIIo94qTll6qJoO6SNlP3BpufuGn6PqIbp2o0FbA5/s1600/_EBS5702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCg2ozeFDpuVM94sfMq6rzeay-l0tHrnFNHplkvyEawJpUWZkf2CBS3C5G-X_bqAFAk9_yMHY4AqO7aFCv51PjQ_Kaqae_HOG8olQKIIo94qTll6qJoO6SNlP3BpufuGn6PqIbp2o0FbA5/s320/_EBS5702.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Don’t worry, kitty IQs to come soon)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dr. Em</div>Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-756593594219309562012-04-29T13:32:00.000-05:002012-05-05T19:09:11.290-05:00Ahhh, good morning to me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3B_2CyCcveoKxoBD_rhE-RK2ugeUgRhrZMW8VXnSjeJl4SJ4JuSxn0ObMid0I_jILdhlP8OSTzKJDnuhw6YNiPM6tmFsq66U5TFSbQDNusQDYeiWnLOWIXtaIrey9ymTbnz4ECeb3lFfG/s1600/IMG_0997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3B_2CyCcveoKxoBD_rhE-RK2ugeUgRhrZMW8VXnSjeJl4SJ4JuSxn0ObMid0I_jILdhlP8OSTzKJDnuhw6YNiPM6tmFsq66U5TFSbQDNusQDYeiWnLOWIXtaIrey9ymTbnz4ECeb3lFfG/s320/IMG_0997.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Dr. EmDr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-8847844377219660732012-04-26T23:16:00.001-05:002012-05-05T18:35:33.551-05:00The terrible tale of the only place on Earth almost as bad as North Dakota... almostThis is the tale of how Walmart was
added to my “seek and destroy” list.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now before you Southerners get
all defensive, I’m not talking about <i>your</i>
Walmarts. For the most part, any Walmart south of the Mason Dixon line and east
of the Mississippi is bright, open and pretty awesome. I mean, yes, people
really do dress like in the “People of Walmart,” but that’s not Walmart’s
fault, that’s just Arkansas (the birthplace of Walmart).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, the rest of the country is Target territory. This is
not to say that we don’t have Walmarts, it just means that for some reason when
forced into competition with Target, Walmart suddenly turns into a crazy,
mentally challenged hoarder. The shelves
and aisle ways are so over packed that not only are the simplest of things
difficult to find, but items constantly spill all over the floor and no one
ever picks them up. The pet section is filled with dead fish, there is no rhyme
or reason to the layout and it literally smells of failure and sad. I don’t
know how to describe it better than that. Go in and take a whiff. You’ll find
yourself thinking, “Huh… that <i>does</i>
smell like failure and sad.” <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>The further west you go, the worse they get. Here in L.A.,
they are downright scary. I know at least a few of you are shaking your head,
thinking, “Isn’t everything in L.A. scary?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No. Feel free to read why my city is awesome <a href="http://emandweeproductions.blogspot.com/2012/02/home-sweet-home.html"><span style="background-color: #cccccc; color: blue;">here</span></a>,
or just take my word for it. The Targets out here are the same as the Targets
in Minnesota (Target’s birthplace) – inviting, happy places that have such a
brilliant flow to them I always buy more than I mean to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Think of Target and Walmart like giant, warring gangs made
out of cheap clothes and everything convenient. Here, the Bloods have won. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All that being said and well known by me, why in the world
did I go into a Walmart then? Because I lost my mind, clearly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was running a few errands yesterday, including a trip to
Party City, which is in an area I don’t normally go and happens to be right
next door to Walmart. I must have had a mini stroke, because I thought, “nice!
I’ll just pop in there and grab the few things I need so I don’t have to drive
to Target today. It will save a little time.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For future reference – all of
those thoughts are wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had five things on my list: dress socks for my husband, shoelaces,
an alarm clock, toothpaste and sandwich baggies. Make your bets now as to how
long that trip should have taken and how long it did.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The smell and overwhelming din hit me the moment I stepped
through the door. I should have turned around right there. I should have
realized what I was walking into and run. I’m gonna say mini stroke number two
hit because instead I slowed my breathing, gritted my teeth and thought, “It’s
just five things. I’ll be in and out. This is still the easiest option. Hey,
maybe I’ll grab a bottle of wine while I’m here too. Yes, this will be fine.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First stop – the men’s
department.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This Walmart had two levels and no directory, so I took a
quick lap around the first level and then made my way up the escalator to the
second floor. I found the men’s socks, not near men’s clothes, as I would have
guessed, but in a random aisle behind the shoes. Odd, but whatever, I found
them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“See? Easy,” I said to me. “And look, I’m already in the
shoe department, so I can grab the laces.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Silly brain, how little you
know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stepping over dozens of strewn-about shoes, boxes and an
opened package of socks, I scoured the over-stuffed shoe department. Nothing.
Feeling frustrated, but refusing to give in, I spotted two employees idly
chatting in the toy section.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me,” I called from
across the aisle, “Can you help me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The women continued talking
without looking up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps they just didn’t hear me, I thought. So I walked
over to their aisle, careful to cover my head as the toy department is
notorious for spontaneous avalanches.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me,” I said again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They both stopped and looked at me and then returned to their
conversation in a language I didn’t recognize.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you help me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The women, clearly wearing Walmart nametags, looked at me
again. Then one said something to me in a language I’m pretty sure was made up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I just stared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She repeated her gibberish, then turned back to her friend
and continued talking as if I was no longer there. I moved in closer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I need shoelaces. Can you tell
me where to find them?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first woman sighed heavily and then pointed across the
aisle to the shoe department where I had just come from.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So, you don’t speak English,
but you understood the word ‘shoelaces’?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An angry stare and then the two
women simply walked away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mini stroke number three. Instead of leaving, I thought, “Brush
it off Em. Brush it off. I’ll come back for the laces. I can go grab the
toothpaste. That will be easy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I made my way back down the escalator toward the health
and beauty section. If you think of Walmart like a big dirty city, the camping
and hunting section would be City Hall, the electronics section would be the soup
kitchen, and the pet section would be the ghetto playground. The health and
beauty section would be that crack house on the corner that seems to always
have a screaming baby and drugged out people shamelessly having sex in the
hallway. The windows are shot out, there’s graffiti on the walls, the lights
are constantly flickering. That house you are too afraid to even walk past,
much less go into. Yeah, the health and beauty section is like that. But worse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made my way to the edge of the first aisle and set my basket
holding the socks down among the half dozen or so carts and smattering of other
baskets. This is customary is most West Coast Walmarts, as the aisles in this
section are so crammed together, there isn’t room for anything extra. Women
with large purses or an oversized figure must send their children into the
mayhem. I shimmied my way to the toothpaste section and began the daunting task
of digging through the piles and piles of toothpaste brands that were all mixed
together. 700 tubes of toothpaste and no Arm & Hammer? Seriously? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dismayed, but stubbornly refusing to give in, I decided to
go for the alarm clock. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I grabbed my
basket and headed back up the escalator to the electronics section. I call this
department the soup kitchen because it is lined with bargain bins filled to the
brim offering terrible movies and CDs from the 80’s at super low prices. People
crowd around these things and feverishly dig through them, swatting at
competitors like a pack of starving wolves getting their first meal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I skirted past the bins and found the alarm clocks displayed
fairly well. I scanned the eight or nine options and decided on a cute blue one
that lit up. I searched through the seemingly endless supply of boxes beneath
the clocks, the whole time thinking, “Does Walmart just not have a backroom?”
After failing to find my selected clock, I searched out an employee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you help me?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A kid who looked all of 17 smiled
and cheerily moved toward me, “of course.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ah-ha! Things are looking up!” Just
wait, brain, just wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I would like to purchase a clock, but I can’t find the box,
do you think you might have one in back?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Everything we have is out, but
let me help you look.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We scoured the boxes together and still came up empty. The
young man put his hands on his hips and with all sincerity apologized that I
couldn’t get my clock.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, can I just buy the
display one?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, we can’t sell that one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why not?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s a tip to employees at any retail store. If you are
asked this question, and your employer is as clueless as Walmart, simply say
“it’s store policy” to save yourself the embarrassment and frustration.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Because then people won’t know
we have that clock,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you don’t have that clock,”
I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, not now, but we might get
more in.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok, then at that time, can’t
you just pull out another display model?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, no, because then in the
meantime people won’t know we have that clock.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But you don’t have that clock.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But we probably will someday.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So, rather than just sell me this clock now, you want to
have this conversation over and over with every customer who sees this display
and chooses that clock? You want to tell people that you have a display up for
something that is not in stock, but <i>may </i>be….
<i>Someday</i>? What? In the hopes that they
will keep checking back with you instead of simply picking one out that is in
stock?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I like talking to customers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t argue with stupid. I
thanked the kid and walked away without my clock.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Feeling defeated and tired, I decided to finally cut my
losses and grab a much-needed bottle of wine and head home with just the socks.
Back down the escalator to the food section. Understanding there is no rhyme or
reason to the organization of any section, I began methodically walking up and
down each aisle. Nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me,” I said, wearily approaching an employee near
the food section. “Where is your wine?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We don’t sell alcohol here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a moment as the words sunk
in. I think I sputtered some nonsense before dropping my basket with the socks
in it and stumbling past the two open registers and out the door. I let out a
cry of angst. A cry, by the way, that didn’t seem to concern or surprise anyone
within earshot. They’ve witnessed this before.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a beautiful California day, but I’d just come out of
a warzone. It was like all the joy in the world had been sucked out and there
was only one way to get it back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I drove to Target.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dr. Em <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-85212204304122896532012-04-25T14:37:00.001-05:002012-05-05T18:34:37.629-05:00Transparency<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<br />Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-18062741366881847032012-04-23T20:13:00.000-05:002012-05-05T18:34:25.776-05:00Just Like When I Was A Kid But With Booze<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UeoZpLFf_eBkzobuD3S88eTZE0-_JWCU3ht9B8FPtnxKnI1k5nJB2Ghx94FuwCbOTtGy4pIrgHuhB0hF8nmAI618aU7bqkwnadFxXApTTcj7CwtjvCgoLs4d6fplBluPwBGC0L4U5UEZ/s1600/port+wing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UeoZpLFf_eBkzobuD3S88eTZE0-_JWCU3ht9B8FPtnxKnI1k5nJB2Ghx94FuwCbOTtGy4pIrgHuhB0hF8nmAI618aU7bqkwnadFxXApTTcj7CwtjvCgoLs4d6fplBluPwBGC0L4U5UEZ/s200/port+wing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
We're back!!!! I am so not ready to be back in civilization, a week in the woods with all the cousins is just not enough! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
When we were kids we'd spend three to six weeks every summer at the lake! Our grandparents (G & G) had a huge house on the south shore of Lake Superior, nestled in the woods on a dead end dirt road with rickety stairs down to the lake. A few years ago G & G sold the house and moved down to the city. <span id="goog_906817179"></span><span id="goog_906817180"></span><br />
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-1sTto47FGQk0ZVrwUYl5KcnwVif7OCT8dIDiLU7lCm7wuEFv2WafHaF5PrPFxnoYmuHTvhyxGj28_bMc5XwrD_xfSQx8vQO_NL_Xfn1wkRi-xSi9Uh86hJ-J9-egsLQ4E68hmj0uEUq/s1600/lake+superior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-1sTto47FGQk0ZVrwUYl5KcnwVif7OCT8dIDiLU7lCm7wuEFv2WafHaF5PrPFxnoYmuHTvhyxGj28_bMc5XwrD_xfSQx8vQO_NL_Xfn1wkRi-xSi9Uh86hJ-J9-egsLQ4E68hmj0uEUq/s200/lake+superior.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
But we cousins still trek up to Port Wing once a year to recreate some of our favorite childhood memories. This year was no exception, it was like we were kids again except with booze!<br />
<br />
Here's a taste of the fun we have up north....<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
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</div>
As <b><span style="color: blue;">kids</span></b> we stayed at G & G's house scattered about with sleeping bags in various guest room and lofts. Yes, my grandparents had more than one loft....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvjn3mOqoxvO2qY5_3pn2zMRNnj4CoB25ukVz0cRuD5Sx97sH-GtJo6UINsIlgFlBTc5MO3hBJquc4aV-0vR5bK9xa5I5I6s3SfsiKWScv4lzVxxw6bOZPYt3xwOYgs4dBDESQXbO85C4/s1600/cabin2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvjn3mOqoxvO2qY5_3pn2zMRNnj4CoB25ukVz0cRuD5Sx97sH-GtJo6UINsIlgFlBTc5MO3hBJquc4aV-0vR5bK9xa5I5I6s3SfsiKWScv4lzVxxw6bOZPYt3xwOYgs4dBDESQXbO85C4/s1600/cabin2.jpg" /></a></div>
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As <b><span style="color: red;">adults</span></b> the six cousins, plus two spouses, stayed in 4 newly remodeled cabins by the marina. <br />
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<b><span style="color: blue;">Kid</span>s</b>: We worked up a sweat in the outdoor sauna then ran as fast as we could through the woods and jumped off a cliff in to the freezing waters of Lake Superior. Then did it 12 more times.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4EpF7BBWUvs0_Itdxdqbo9nvreDXrxz2u4-_YlX3BoK_h7mKIjh2RJCCa_C7NmIRkhlhIg3wYZzADzH-aub5Ls51JUdcIYkTcGTnHr_oNfzKcNQ-ggQV0J0AP6zeoAKoSEtDtyB0KlwB/s1600/cliff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4EpF7BBWUvs0_Itdxdqbo9nvreDXrxz2u4-_YlX3BoK_h7mKIjh2RJCCa_C7NmIRkhlhIg3wYZzADzH-aub5Ls51JUdcIYkTcGTnHr_oNfzKcNQ-ggQV0J0AP6zeoAKoSEtDtyB0KlwB/s1600/cliff.jpg" /></a><br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">Adults:</span></b> We worked up a sweat in the indoor sauna then one of us ran as fast as they could through the club house and grabbed another round of cold beers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKJU2Ehvl4YA7Pb6KeiN2tAzPNT7daQNn0AsJ2fos3pPgAbP1sBbVDhjuJleNKv82rl9porak9-vA6r4HEjhGLzAsVlxUTG0O-x7-UrdAcUb0mA9nrxbB4gIrEFR-zwD181la6Mpa9Tp/s1600/camp+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaKJU2Ehvl4YA7Pb6KeiN2tAzPNT7daQNn0AsJ2fos3pPgAbP1sBbVDhjuJleNKv82rl9porak9-vA6r4HEjhGLzAsVlxUTG0O-x7-UrdAcUb0mA9nrxbB4gIrEFR-zwD181la6Mpa9Tp/s1600/camp+fire.jpg" /></a><b><span style="color: blue;">Kids:</span></b> We sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows and telling scary stories about men with hooks for hands and midnight callers <i>in the house.</i><br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">Adults:</span></b> We sat around the campfire drinking wine and telling <i></i>scary stories about men with their hooks in our retirement funds and midnight callers looking for that student loan you paid off 20 years ago.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rOZBGIiGrfzYKjrJQp7OfFJvAATMPl_Gs5crhe-w4lRpww4bFgk5v736VpIYj83I3EEl95k_Z56c3ievQjd7P13pHrYF1s8QXzWICPAIkG7Yv6ma-l0oVOXqAKmcyllnBnkfRLE3O5jr/s1600/golf+cart2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rOZBGIiGrfzYKjrJQp7OfFJvAATMPl_Gs5crhe-w4lRpww4bFgk5v736VpIYj83I3EEl95k_Z56c3ievQjd7P13pHrYF1s8QXzWICPAIkG7Yv6ma-l0oVOXqAKmcyllnBnkfRLE3O5jr/s1600/golf+cart2.jpg" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: blue;">Kids:</span></b> We used the golf cart to play hitchhiker and drive to the beach down the road.<br />
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<b style="color: red;">Adults:</b> We used the golf cart to play golf and drive to the beach down the road when we were too drunk to drive cars.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Kids:</span> We went mud bogging with the four-wheelers.<br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">Adults:</span></b>
You bet we did that! and by we I mean me, 2 cousins and a spouse. Dr Em
and the rest of you who stayed at the marina...you're LAME!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBX-UeREaxrkButm4WPsgbmcgIJ5FdHoyYV96VQpgfq4F6hXAbr1pPkbuemu_p-ck_VmxMefgCUgowmR6FJCks5iRQPq4QH4G9G1u3HGowRVP0laJikIwqJPx2dkv0Zx0joMAw6skrT5jf/s1600/dance3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBX-UeREaxrkButm4WPsgbmcgIJ5FdHoyYV96VQpgfq4F6hXAbr1pPkbuemu_p-ck_VmxMefgCUgowmR6FJCks5iRQPq4QH4G9G1u3HGowRVP0laJikIwqJPx2dkv0Zx0joMAw6skrT5jf/s1600/dance3.jpg" /></a><b><span style="color: blue;">Kids:</span></b> We made up elaborate plays and concerts, complete with sets and costumes then made all the adults sit and watch the production.<b><span style="color: red;"> </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">Adults:</span></b> We tried to remember those plays and concerts then made the two unfortunate spouses sit and watch our half remembered adaptation.<br />
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<b><span style="color: blue;">Kids:</span></b> We packed picnics and went exploring in the woods. Imagining how the train caboose got there, what might have been kept in the random collapsing barn sitting all by itself and who lived in the dome house.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUUTqe8_mJyUaIXfJjBN40CH5IsxFJB8g-O5bdgS9ai0GacfaIum_NUK7PtZMjy2Hf6l5Ca0dtoyPZoTlT7qFfGyd24C7vD_VfNdlVDDuJNrDXWaTlyX_ib8vwtDY6C2vPPssq2jGzzex/s1600/DomeHomeBack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUUTqe8_mJyUaIXfJjBN40CH5IsxFJB8g-O5bdgS9ai0GacfaIum_NUK7PtZMjy2Hf6l5Ca0dtoyPZoTlT7qFfGyd24C7vD_VfNdlVDDuJNrDXWaTlyX_ib8vwtDY6C2vPPssq2jGzzex/s1600/DomeHomeBack.jpg" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: red;">Adults:</span></b> We packed wine to go and went exploring in the woods. Still trying to figure out how the train caboose got there, what might have been kept in
the random collapsing barn sitting all by itself and who lived in the
dome house.<br />
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<b><span style="color: blue;">Kids:</span></b> We laid in the grass watching the stars, talking about who we were going to be when we grew up and making wishes on every shooting star.<br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">Adults:</span></b> We laid in Adirondack chairs watching the stars, talking about who we were as kids and saw more shooting stars to make wishes on with every martini.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDr93S4OBx5AVJsmdRGjeEoR1FTrBmR5utbuClDERxIMhzSxQ0noi-fSfaSmcZh4hKk1AljFVtCCO9lhiDaM3lxebcPARbhPSuGl0iqE7icI8sy0h9BbW-unsnW17nW7D-yuMtnqpCBPZ/s1600/martini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDr93S4OBx5AVJsmdRGjeEoR1FTrBmR5utbuClDERxIMhzSxQ0noi-fSfaSmcZh4hKk1AljFVtCCO9lhiDaM3lxebcPARbhPSuGl0iqE7icI8sy0h9BbW-unsnW17nW7D-yuMtnqpCBPZ/s1600/martini.jpg" /></a><b><span style="color: magenta;"> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: magenta;">Princess WeeWee</span></b>Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-90379075423224443362012-04-15T23:37:00.001-05:002012-05-05T18:33:44.216-05:00Family Vacation Time!Hi everyone!<br />
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We're so happy and honored to have you as our new friends! So, to make sure you don't think we're ignoring you or perhaps have been dragged away by dingos...<br />
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It's our annual family powwow at the cabin on the lake. Both Dr Em and Princess WeeWee will be incommunicado until next Monday morning (April 23rd). Don't worry though, the juiciness we'll bring back will be well worth the wait!<br />
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See you soon!Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5259421667841748923.post-6494473005239338672012-04-14T20:31:00.000-05:002012-05-05T18:33:23.240-05:00Silly, Silly Susan!At yoga this morning my friend Susan set up next to me because she was concerned about last night's post and wanted to <i>discuss</i> it while we stretched. I immediately started running through the evening in my head...let's see; I worked on the pictures for my newest collection, got distracted in Photoshop, created and posted my prancing pic...was it possible I had posted some ridiculousness after that?<br />
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I thought hard for a bit, really straining my brain while waiting for class to begin. Nope, I decided; unless I have suddenly developed a crazy sleep blogging disorder, I posted the prancing picture last night but nothing else. Whew! But what was Susan concerned about....Oh dear, I love Susan dearly but sometimes I really wonder...<br />
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<b>Me:</b> So, what's up Suz?<br />
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<b>Susan:</b> Well, I don't know how to say this, but I'm your friend and....okay, here it is...<br />
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<b>Me:</b> [super worried I was about to get into some sort of intervention scenario...sure, I drink sometimes but not nearly as much as those kids on Jersey Shore...]<br />
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<b>Susan:</b> [blurting out super fast and extra loud] I think you have a delusional self image! [everyone in class paused mid sun goddess and stared]<br />
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<b>Me:</b> What in the world are you talking about Susan?<br />
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<b>Susan: </b>Well, I saw your post last night and I'm really concerned. I came this close to calling Dr Em about it.<br />
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<b>Me: </b>Are you talking about my Princess Prancing picture? The <i>cartoon</i> I posted last night?<br />
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<b>Susan:</b> Yes, Princess WeeWee. I'm very concerned.<br />
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<b>Me:</b> [pulling into tree pose] The cartoon?<br />
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<b>Susan:<i> </i></b>Well, first there's your body - it's not your body! You're not that tall!<br />
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<b>Me:</b> Well, right. It's a <i>cartoon</i>.<br />
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<b>Susan:</b> And then, even more disturbing than adding a few inches to your height...You're cheerleading!!!<br />
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<b>Me:</b> Well, okay I get that...it's just that I have issues with hands and pom-poms cover them up so nicely.<br />
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<b>Susan: </b>You do remember that you have never been a cheerleader, right? I don't want to sound mean but you know you could never pull off the routines, right?<br />
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<b>Me: </b>Uh, yeah I realize I'm not the most coordinated gal out there. [of course we're now moving into Half Moon pose, as if to underline the point] but Suz it's a cartoon...really I just chose a clip art figure that would be easy to put my head on and edit in some fun prancing moves.<br />
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<b>Susan:</b> Oh, WeeWee you are in such denial. Maybe I should call Dr. Em.<br />
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<b>Me:</b> Okay. Good class, suz. See you next week.<br />
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<b>Susan:</b> [shakes her head as if she thinks I'm doomed]Dr. Em and Princess WeeWeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10407167721189194498noreply@blogger.com10