<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:55:41.933-10:00</updated><category term='Halloween'/><title type='text'>The Secret Life of....</title><subtitle type='html'>A glimpse into my life with full disclosure; I’m not holding back.  It will have the good, the bad and the ugly.  I tell it like it is, if you want to hear it that way or not.  I don’t believe in sugar-coating the truth so it doesn't sting.  I sting; sometimes it hurts; I’m just tying to make you a better person.  Read if you a laugh, to ponder a thought and maybe even cry.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-6819288160839737903</id><published>2009-11-07T13:16:00.012-10:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T13:50:42.991-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Crusin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYE5BRmmaI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Mu-K5xMhAl8/s1600-h/Bermuda+11-2009+170.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 229px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 192px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401510180718811554" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYE5BRmmaI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Mu-K5xMhAl8/s200/Bermuda+11-2009+170.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Ber muda was discovered&lt;/span&gt; in....G44...1503 by Juan de Bermudez" remarked Alejandro in a deep Spanish accent as he was calling BINGO numbers. Alejandro was part of the Cruise Director's Staff aboard the Grandeur of the Seas. His dry sense of humor matched his hard to understanding English and made any event where he hosted that much more enjoyable. Of course, even in the middle of the ocean, I couldn't escape Halloween. Alejandro and his "Finish that Lyric" co-host were dressed accordingly - a drag queen and a redneck. It was a hilarious way to leave Baltimore behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My cruise comparison was not your typical 5-day Caribbean party ship - I was on the QM2 that sailed from Greece to England. This was my first Royal Caribbean experience and I was very impressed. The ship was old but clean and filled with plenty of on board activities. BINGO was my favorite since I can't get dollar signs out of my head. In the end, I walked away empty handed and $100 lighter but it was worth it just for Alejandro's horrible jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Do you want to hear a joke my friends?" "Two peanuts walk into a bar. One of them is a-salted". &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYFJ1Z0VvI/AAAAAAAAAGo/8YtE-AzIlAo/s1600-h/Bermuda+11-2009+033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401510469589817074" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYFJ1Z0VvI/AAAAAAAAAGo/8YtE-AzIlAo/s200/Bermuda+11-2009+033.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Bobbie didn't get it until about 3 days later. She was on the edge of her seat, waiting for the punch line. Once she realized what he said, she bust out laughing. Priceless. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Many thanks for Juan de Bermudez for discovering Bermuda over 500 years ago - what an amazing place! There are incredible beach views from every angle, beautiful blue sky and teal water. Everywhere you turn, the view is better than the last. We only had a day and a half dock but it was just enough time to get a feeling for the island and what to do next time I go back. St. George's is a small, historical town filled with beaches, bays, churches and forts. We took a great little train ride and learned all about the history. For instance - their burial rituals. Similar to cemeteries in New Orleans, they bury above ground. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYFiDrzOkI/AAAAAAAAAGw/2MvUdrJg3KY/s1600-h/Bermuda+11-2009+080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401510885740198466" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYFiDrzOkI/AAAAAAAAAGw/2MvUdrJg3KY/s200/Bermuda+11-2009+080.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Land in Bermuda is premium, of course since the island is only 21 miles long resulting in the need to "recycle" graves. I'll explain. Above-ground tombs are like little boxes with removable lids. The lids list the family in the tomb much like a headstone. The boxes are filled with remains for generations. Once the tomb becomes full, they remove and start again. I didn't catch what happens to the now removed and I didn't ask. I was practically puking out the side of the train by the time the Q&amp;amp;A portion came around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Aside from the strange burial rituals, the island is beautiful and colorful. The streets are narrow, often times not looking wide enough for 2 cars, let alone double buses. The bus and ferry system&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYGEq3ybII/AAAAAAAAAG4/XJl5UWRhWvY/s1600-h/Bermuda+11-2009+070.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401511480375012482" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYGEq3ybII/AAAAAAAAAG4/XJl5UWRhWvY/s200/Bermuda+11-2009+070.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; is wonderful - clean, reliable and cheap. It will take you all over the island. Like most public transportation systems, there are no seat belts, but in Bermuda the streets are narrow, steep and close to a cliff which makes for an exiting ride. It's certainly the most exciting way to see Bermuda, unless you want a real thrill and rend a scooter to tackle the roads yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYGZAR_90I/AAAAAAAAAHA/jxB3z2jNaUc/s1600-h/Bermuda+11-2009+189.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401511829719480130" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYGZAR_90I/AAAAAAAAAHA/jxB3z2jNaUc/s200/Bermuda+11-2009+189.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hamilton is the city-center which most Bermudan's working in but living outside the city limits. Hamilton used to be the main dockyard for cruise ships, but with ships getting bigger and bigger, most no longer fit in the harbor forcing the government to build a new dockyard at the far end of the island. This sudden shift in tourism caused Hamilton to become a day-time city with most shops closed by 6pm. You didn't really feel the British influence outside Hamilton, but walking down Church Street, you might as well be on any street Long. Look at the Capitol building you might as well be seeing something plucked from a London country town - not fitting with the rest of the Bermuda colors.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Beautiful warm weather only lasted a day and a half before the cold and wind of the Atlantic returned. This certain wasn't the Titanic - I didn't think I'd need a door to stay alive (no such luck in finding a Leo of my own - just a bunch of dad's screaming "I'm the King of the World"). Seas were rocking on the way out and home - combination of the ship size, time of year and open body of water. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401512146957466722" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYGreFbfGI/AAAAAAAAAHI/9IORj8PE3mw/s200/Bermuda+11-2009+036.JPG" /&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Spending two days reading indoor poolside was the perfect vacation!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-6819288160839737903?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/6819288160839737903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=6819288160839737903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6819288160839737903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6819288160839737903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/11/crusin.html' title='Crusin&apos;'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SvYE5BRmmaI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Mu-K5xMhAl8/s72-c/Bermuda+11-2009+170.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8933431458154550798</id><published>2009-10-26T12:43:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T12:59:04.936-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Compulsive Shopping</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I've been searching&lt;/span&gt; the web for the past 2 months, researching laptops, processors, hard drives, memory, screen size, etc.  I've logged at least 95 hours visiting manufactures homepages, building, re-building and re-building different (really the same) laptops.  I'll admit, the last 2 weeks at my old job, I logged most of my paid hours on either Dell.com or HP.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've read blogs, review sites, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/span&gt; posts all in the name of technology to make a firm, sound and logically decision on a rather large purchase.  Right when I had a good grip on which way I was leaning, Windows 7 launched.  Wrench in the works!  Windows 7 totally freaked me out.  I mean, have you seen those MAC &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;commericals&lt;/span&gt; where PC makes the same statement about the Windows operating system since 1982?  Pretty convincing huh?  &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I know the benefits of a MAC.  Who under the age of 35 doesn't?  No real viruses to speak of, excellent for editing pictures, light and easy to travel, but have you seen the price tag?  YIKES!!!  All you PC-haters are rolling your eyes, I know, I know, I know and I don't want to hear it.  I'm convinced there are two kinds of people - PCs and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;MACs&lt;/span&gt;.  MAC &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;commericals&lt;/span&gt; don't like, but I just couldn't take the leap.  I don't need all the bells and whistles of a MAC (I'm not Michelle Wise, after all).  I just need a reliable laptop, wireless &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; with a good screen and software compatible with the 1090 software used at Goodwill.  After writing that sentence, I'm thinking I'd be better off with my 2003 Dell with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;XP&lt;/span&gt; and no Microsoft Office!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After ready more web posts, reviews, blogs, watching Windows videos and tuning out MAC &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;commericals&lt;/span&gt;, I made the decision that Windows 7 will be &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; and an HP is better suited for me than a Dell.  I ever convinced myself that I would wait until I cam back from vacation to purchase my new home office.  For those of you who know me, I'm all about instant gratification.  It was all settled!  Enter a big-box retailer.  Wrench in the works!  A quick cruise through the computer section and about 25 minutes later, I was standing in the parking lot with a box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't pass it up - it was an amazing deal; twice the memory, twice the hard drive, bigger screen, faster processor, Windows 7 and Microsoft Office.  It was exactly that computer I wanted, but better and cheaper.  Why is that?  How could a big-box retailer be able to sell a superior machine at a cheaper price?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the smoke still coming from my wallet from burning through so much cash, Bobbie said "You spent more time researching computers than when you bought your car.  You went for a haircut and came home in a whole new car." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well put.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8933431458154550798?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8933431458154550798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8933431458154550798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8933431458154550798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8933431458154550798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/10/compulsive-shopping.html' title='Compulsive Shopping'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-603473846477700441</id><published>2009-09-09T13:40:00.003-10:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T13:49:48.206-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Grass is Always Greener...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;The old saying always rings true&lt;/span&gt;, even in the smallest of situations. For those of faithful readers who don’t keep up with my Facebook statuses, &lt;a href="http://jirehtrading.com/cart/images/officesup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 186px" alt="" src="http://jirehtrading.com/cart/images/officesup.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I recently started a new job. After three-and-a-half years, I knew there would be some things I would miss; the basic comforts of a job are the hardest things to say good-bye to. You know what I’m talking about – knowing where corporate letterhead and post-its are, understanding how often inner-office mail is delivered, learning the name of the person who greets you every morning at the front desk, having to re-organize your desk, create new files and adjust to a different view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was as prepared to start this new adventure as possible; able to curb my anxiety dreams of having to learn a new personnel file system before my first day. I consider that prepared. I’m even doing really well with learning names. I think asking people to reintroduce themselves doesn’t make me seem incapable of remembering their names; after all, they only have to remember one new name. I have met close to sixty new people in the past seven days, remembering even a few I’ll consider a success – only 540 more to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s not until you start a new job when you really appreciate what you had at your old job, the ole’ grass is always greener scenario. Let me clarify one thing before you get your panties in a wedge – I’m not regretful for leaving my old job. It is certainly a place that I no longer desire to be involved with. Now that is all cleared up, there is one thing I miss is single restrooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new job is housed in an old Baltimore City building on the corner of Redwood and South Street; we occupy all seven floors. For a non-profit organization with a South Street location (around the corner from the famous Hustler Club), I certainly wasn’t expecting such a nice chuck of real estate. &lt;a href="http://www.spectrumsd.com/images/boardroom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 186px" alt="" src="http://www.spectrumsd.com/images/boardroom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The boardrooms and conference rooms are huge without a mix-match of chairs and standing room only for staff meetings. The cafeteria has twelve tables with seating for close to 50 people and spotless, no matter the time of day. My office is huge, with matching furniture (full size desk, double armoire with four file drawers and full legal size file cabinet). Not to mention that HR has our own storage/supply closet that is not slotted for a storage-to-office conversion if we add to our headcount. The only downside to this wonderful office space is, although they are located on each floor, is multiply stall restrooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sort of have a thing with multiply stall restrooms that I assume stems back to my days at Lynchburg College, living in a dorm with a single hall bath. During my junior year and the age of the ever popular AIM instant messenger, I had a neighbor who was notorious for reading away messages, discovering your message read “in the shower”, pulling up some bench and catching up on the latest campus gossip. For anyone who has ever lived in a dorm with a single hall bath, you can understand that showers in those facilities are not very large or excessively private; not to mention living with a roommate, you only got twenty minutes of solitude a day. So, as a result of said neighbor, I have a deep appreciation for single restrooms. &lt;a href="http://thehostess.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/26_stalls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 317px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px" alt="" src="http://thehostess.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/26_stalls.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was an adjustment the first few days but something I figured I could live with; when compared it to all the pluses the job, people and organization have to offer, I didn’t give it a second thought. Last week, I was in the restroom, first stall, when I heard the restroom door open and in walks another employee who sits in a cubical near my office. She was standing at the sink rising out a bottle or something (it was hard to see exactly through the cracks). I thought to myself “Amanda, you are okay. She is just cleaning her bottle, she’ll finish and leave.” Then it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Angie is that you?” she asked. Of course, I didn’t respond.&lt;br /&gt;“Angie, I’m talking to you. What are you doing?” I had to respond; I didn’t have a choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ihsg8WxX2tg/SOejR8qV7yI/AAAAAAAAAwI/gEg0uimFv98/s400/kids_chatterbox.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 251px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ihsg8WxX2tg/SOejR8qV7yI/AAAAAAAAAwI/gEg0uimFv98/s400/kids_chatterbox.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;“Um, no Ruth, it’s Amanda.” I said, looking down at my shoes and hoping when I looked up she wouldn’t be peering through the cracks.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, hi Amanda! How’s your first week going? Are you getting settled in? Everyone here is so happy to have you onboard.” She continued to ramble like this for what seemed like thirty years. I politely grunted in agreement without trying to encourage such interaction in the future. Finally she said something like “Well, have a great day!” and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grass is always greener… &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-603473846477700441?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/603473846477700441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=603473846477700441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/603473846477700441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/603473846477700441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/09/grass-is-always-greener.html' title='The Grass is Always Greener...'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ihsg8WxX2tg/SOejR8qV7yI/AAAAAAAAAwI/gEg0uimFv98/s72-c/kids_chatterbox.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-5402700747550307351</id><published>2009-08-24T03:59:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T04:04:15.688-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Royalties...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ABC unleashed a hit&lt;/span&gt; business series sharing the ranks with such greats as &lt;em&gt;The Apprentice&lt;/em&gt;; &lt;em&gt;Shark Tank&lt;/em&gt; pairs 5 independent, multi-millionaire investors with novice business entrepreneurs who have to sell their business opportunity. Most have okay to better than okay ideas, but lack in the overall understanding of, not how business works, but how to create great wealth. I’m starting to think this isn’t so much a show about business, but more about money; cash is king.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t get me wrong; this is reality TV, so of course some of the entrepreneurial opportunities are laughed right out of the room. A sticky pad for sticky pads?? An implanted bluetooth headset that requires you to charge your head at the end of each day??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the ideas are really quite genius; Shakespeare turned into music, a foldable guitar, and a seatbelt sensor that won’t turn on your car unless your seatbelt is locked. I’m often amazed by the ideas that people come up with, the amount of personal money already invested and their overall lack of what to do next. The Sharks lay it out pretty clearly, either they are out (meaning your idea has too many financial risks, you haven’t done your due diligence homework or your idea is flat out insane) or they take your deal or they counter your deal in their minds, with a better deal. Remember, Sharks don’t want to be in the guitar manufacturing business; they want to make money!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Robert Herjavec&lt;/strong&gt;, who sold his first company for $100 million and &lt;strong&gt;Daymon John&lt;/strong&gt;, founder of &lt;em&gt;FUBU&lt;/em&gt; clothing line, often counter the entrepreneurs with more aggressive offers, many times requesting control ownership of the company or 51%. As &lt;strong&gt;Barbara Corcoran&lt;/strong&gt;, who has a five billion (that's with a &lt;em&gt;B&lt;/em&gt;) dollar business, pointed out on last’s night episode, remember the difference between 50% and 51% is a partner where decisions are made together and someone who will call all the shots without you. &lt;strong&gt;Kevin O’Leary&lt;/strong&gt;, who sold his business of educational software for 3.7 billion (that's with a &lt;em&gt;B&lt;/em&gt;) dollars, explains that entrepreneurs with product patens should sell the rights to the product and negotiate royalty fees for long-term wealth. &lt;strong&gt;Kevin Harrington&lt;/strong&gt;, the king of infomercials, often times agrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Royalties is where long-term, sustainable, hassle and risk free wealth stems from. The owner of LifeBelt should have sold the rights to his paten for between a quarter of a million to half a million dollars with a 2-3% royalty fees for each unit sold. What does that mean? That means, if Robert bought the rights, he would cut a check to Mr. LifeBelt for $500,000 and Robert is free to do what he wants with the product, but for each unit sold, he owes Mr. LifeBelt 2% of the sale price. Robert feels there is a market for this type of product but doesn’t want to be in the car accessory business, he wants to license the paten to car manufactures who will add the accessory stock to most models. In the licensing deal, Robert negotiates a royalty deal with the car manufacture for 6%. For each unit installed, Robert gets paid 6% of the unit sale price and turns around and sends a check to Mr. LifeBelt for 2%. Mr. LifeBelt doesn’t have to do a thing get the 2% check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so 2% doesn’t sound like a lot, if each unit sells for $30.00, Mr. LifeBelt only gets 60 cents. Robert sells license to use the product to a car manufacture who installs the product in 2500 cars per week, earning Mr. LifeBelt $1500 a week, $78,000 a year, $2,340,000 in 30 years. I’m sure there are ways you can earn more money faster, but Mr. LifeBelt doesn’t have to do anything for his $78,000 income per year. He can sit at home watching &lt;em&gt;HGTV&lt;/em&gt; all day, sleep until 3pm and walk the dogs. He doesn’t have to lift a finger and he’s making a decent yearly salary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens if Robert tries to sell LifeBelt to car companies and no one bites? Mr. LifeBelt was already paid a half a million dollars for his idea; he’s been paid even if the product is flops, plus he’s not out any more cash, time or effort. Robert has all the hassle and all the risk. Mr. LifeBelt has his half a million dollars already in the bank! If Robert is successful, then Mr. LifeBelt makes more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Royalty fees are with you until the day you die. Imagine the possibilities. Why don’t more of the entrepreneurs take these kinds of deals? Do you really want to be manufacturing seatbelt sensors in your basement for the next 30 years hoping to sell enough to make $2 million or do you wan to sit back, relax and let the cash roll in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://beta.abc.go.com/shows/shark-tank/index"&gt;http://beta.abc.go.com/shows/shark-tank/index&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-5402700747550307351?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/5402700747550307351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=5402700747550307351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/5402700747550307351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/5402700747550307351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/08/royalties.html' title='Royalties...'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-4840190728005638544</id><published>2009-08-18T12:12:00.005-10:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T12:53:06.177-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Ms. Minto goes to Wegmans</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.delawareonline.com/blogs/secondhelpings/uploaded_images/acmemarket.old-754065.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px" alt="" src="http://www.delawareonline.com/blogs/secondhelpings/uploaded_images/acmemarket.old-754065.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;The grocery store&lt;/span&gt; is an American institution. Only in America will you find such massive food venues that yield everything from fresh and organic vegetables to birdseed to Scotch tape. Most other cultures shop for groceries by visiting specialty shops such as butchers, cheese makers and wine shoppes, but not Americans! We shop for groceries just we shop for, well, everything else – one stop, multi-level, eye popping, mega malls. Growing up in small town America, I certainly wasn’t privy to high-class, mega supermarkets. I grew up grocery shopping with my grandmother, at our local ACME that honestly smelled like sour milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In 2005, Hunt Valley became the first Maryland home to the newest mega mall grocery store – Wegmans. This grocery store chain puts new meaning to the term supermarket. &lt;a href="http://www.cherryhill-nj.com/emailimages/wegmans.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://landmarkconcreteva.com/images/wegmans_food_markets.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" alt="" src="http://landmarkconcreteva.com/images/wegmans_food_markets.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In 1930, just fourteen short years after John Wegman opened a fruit and vegetable company in upstate New York, he opened his first supermarket; 20,000 square-foot shopping floor plus an in-house cafeteria that sat 300. Wegmans’ belief that valued and cared for employees do their jobs better earned them the #2 spot on Fortune’s list of best 100 companies to work for in 2006; it’s ninth consecutive year listed. This is not your average grocery store or your average business model for that matter. Everything about a Wegmans shop is bigger, brighter and better than the shop around the corner. I suppose that is why American’s are willing to drive miles to their nearest not so neighborhood Wegmans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it’s the allure of it’s 60-foot olive bar, the smell of fresh baking pizza in the café, or the ability to pick up a ready-to-serve Wegmans meal on your way home from work, pop it in the oven and consider dinner served that has millions of American consumers hooked on the Wegmans drug. For me, it’s the smaller two-tiered carts, the in-store flower shop, the do-it-yourself produce labeling and the hot chocolate complete with attachable cart cup holder that pulls at my grocery shopping heartstrings. I’m not, by any means, someone who gets a thrill out of grocery shopping; in fact, I would fathom this is my least favorite activity. Yet there is something about Wegmans, even with the crowds, the hoards of consumers looking for a bargain, screaming children and miles of walking, that makes grocery shopping a little bit better for me. They have a huge international foods section; not that international foods really appeal to my western taste buds, but they do sell Brazilin soda in 2-liter bottles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.weddingmapper.com/photos/0/77/62601_l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px" alt="" src="http://www.weddingmapper.com/photos/0/77/62601_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If you’re a cheese buff, you must travel to your nearest Wegmans just to experience such a cheese masterpiece. If you can think of a type, style or country of origin for a cheese, chances are they have it. Maybe organics is more your thing; you’ll be wandering down the aisles like a mouse trapped in a maze picking up items such as organic chips, juice, powerbars. Still not convinced? How about your neighborhood butcher shop, fishmonger, Chinese buffet, bakery, sub shop, and café all without having to get caught in the rain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Wegmans, people rule, but not the ones your thinking of; &lt;em&gt;the employees&lt;/em&gt;. A throw back to 1900’s America, where taking care of your workers builds loyalty, hard work and commitment, a belief and tradition since lost. If only more American companies valued their employees, the contribution they make just by showing up on time. Wegmans is doing something right where great customer service starts with how an employee feels about their job; how they are treated at works translates to the level of service received by the customer. Companies well known for horrible customer service should take a lesson from Wegmans. During my visit today, I discovered Wegmans going against their grain and introducing self-checkouts. This concept is certain not new to the grocery store industry, but innovative to a company who prides it’s brand on outstanding customer service. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With two-tier carts, self produce labeling and &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; self-checkouts, I’ll go grocery shopping all the time with no complaints, but only if we make the drive to Wegmans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-4840190728005638544?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/4840190728005638544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=4840190728005638544' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/4840190728005638544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/4840190728005638544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/08/ms-minto-goes-to-wegmans.html' title='Ms. Minto goes to Wegmans'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-6028330406754456705</id><published>2009-07-21T10:57:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T11:04:04.717-10:00</updated><title type='text'>“My Autobiography” - Courtesy of various Facebook users</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Where did you take your profile picture? At Target in Owings Mills&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What exactly are you wearing right now? Black tank, green v-neck shirt, bright pink scarf, black suit and heels&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What is your current problem? There isn’t enough space to clearly explain&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What makes you happy most? Being at home with someone…&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What are you listening to at the moment? The copier, well copying&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Any celeb you would marry? Joshua Jackson, who doesn’t love Pacey Witter?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Name someone with the same birthday as you? Bill Maher&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ever sang in front of a large audience? Greek sign, but we mostly Mily Vinily’d it and laughed&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? There was a microsoft clip art character that looked just like me…but I think she retired.  I can’t find her anymore&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you still watch kiddy movies or kiddie TV shows? Just Charlie and the Chocolate Factory… “Cheer up Charlie”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How many languages do you speak? Uno&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Has anyone you've been really close with passed away? William E. Appleby – 1983 – 2001&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What’s your favorite band? DMB&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What's something that really annoys you? People that don’t ask questions, just assume and make bad decisions&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chapter 1:===============&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Middle name: Beth&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nicknames: Mints and Peeping Tom (don’t ask) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Current location: Office&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eye color: Brown&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chapter 2:===============&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you live with your parent(s)? Negative&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you get along with your parent(s): Best friends&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you have any Siblings? Sister and brother &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chapter 3: Favorites===============&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ice Cream: Soft serve Chochlate in a waffle cone with rainbow sprinkles…what can I say, my sister owns and ice cream shop&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Season: Winter&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Shampoo/conditioner: Big Sexy Hair ;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chapter 4: Do You?===============&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dance in the shower? Nah&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you write on your hand? Always carry a note pad&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Call people back? Depends on how they sound on the message&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Believe in love: Yes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Any bad habits: blow my nose in the shower&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chapter 5: Have You?===============&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sprained stuff: ankles, wrists&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Broke a bone: fingers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had physical therapy: yep&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gotten stitches: nope&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Taken painkillers: Yes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gone scuba diving or snorkeling: neither, I can’t swim&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Been stung by a bee: yes and I totally FEAKED out&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thrown up at the dentist: I avoid at all costs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sworn in front of your parents: Of course&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had detention: I’m from New Jersey…what do you think?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chapter 6: what/who was the last?===============&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Movie: Brokedown Palace&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Person to text? Alison&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Person you called: Alisa&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Person you hugged: Bobbie&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Person you tackled: Kaydee&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Person you talked to on Skype: Never have&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thing you touched? keys&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thing you ate? gum&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thing you drank: diet pepsi&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thing you said: “I wouldn’t drive to MDC everyday for a million dollars”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chapter 7: Future===============&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Not at here ;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;10 years? Married with kiddies&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In 50 years? Still in love&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Where do you hope to live? Denver&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you want to be famous? Just to the people close to me&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you want children? sure&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Will you have plastic surgery? Maybe, but I’m not telling on what ;)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-6028330406754456705?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/6028330406754456705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=6028330406754456705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6028330406754456705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6028330406754456705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-autobiography-courtesy-of-various.html' title='“My Autobiography” - Courtesy of various Facebook users'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8511878972214917895</id><published>2009-07-20T07:04:00.003-10:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T07:08:32.720-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Dos Equis and Human Resources...Only in 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.neonsign.com/eng_tackers/images/dosequistin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 277px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px" alt="" src="http://www.neonsign.com/eng_tackers/images/dosequistin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Okay – so I read an HR blog every day, or as often as there is an update posted which comes to be via email just like my CNN breaking news alerts.  I do this for a few reasons:&lt;br /&gt;1) interesting reading to me, good topics that often raise my eyebrow&lt;br /&gt;2) guest author’s which give a different voice to the writing keeping me panting for more&lt;br /&gt;3) he/she (not sure if it’s a man or woman writing it) is just plain funny and you know how much I love humor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 10:18am just when my case of the Monday’s started to hit its stride, I see the alert.  I stop in mid-work load and click; I can’t wait to read it, can you tell I’m from the digital age of instant gratification.  I open it and just the headline has me wanting more – The Most Interesting Person – In the HR World.  I think to myself, “wait, I didn’t do an interview”.  I read on, heat in Houston, humidity in Houston, dreaming of beer.  I’m starting to wonder what this has to do with HR, after all, it’s not often that beer and HR share the same sentence!  It’s about a Dos Equis ad series that has been airing nationally since earlier this year.  Dos Equis – the cool labeled, green bottled beer that everyone loves to consume in mass quantities on Cinco Da Mayo (never been a supporter – my Mexican beer of choice will always be Corona)!  I’m starting to believe that my blogger has a worse case of the Monday’s that I do, already planning out next weekend, which is a long FIVE days away! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Bc0WjTT0Ps"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Bc0WjTT0Ps&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read on…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He/She spins it, quoting the ad series as inspiration to spoof the one-liners transforming it’s context to the HR world rather than the swave beer drinking Spaniard.  One-liners, which after reading, re-reading and re-reading again, fit me like a glove, to the point where I’m laughing so much people walking by actually think I enjoy my job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Her perfume smells like hot dogs at the company picnic” – You know that’s true, even though Medifast doesn’t promote consuming multiply hot dogs due to the unhealthy contents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Her charm is so contagious, special health benefits coverage has been created for it” – It’s not cheap, but getting it pre-tax is a nice break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The police often question her, just to hear ER stories” – The people who work here know the truth behind this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She’s a lover, not a fighter; but don’t tempt her with a late performance evaluation” – I spent the better part of the morning sending our reminders to managers – can I get a HELL YA!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She’s so good at her job, she made Donald Trump realize the need to fire his own children” – Think about working at an organization that along with the corporate org chart, they had you a family tree!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Her career advice, “Find out what you don’t do well in life and then outsource it”  – Get a contract, negotiate them to a below fair market price than try to slash it even further – remember HR contributes to the bottom line.&lt;br /&gt;“Her reputation is expanding faster than HR pros on Twitter” – what I can say, people around here just know who to go to get stuff done, done right and done on time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If she were to give you directions to an interview, you’d never get lost, you’d arrive at least 5 minutes early and you’d already have landed the job” – have you ever noticed that sometimes my voice sounds like a cross between the Garmin navigation lady, your mother and your high school guidance counselor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She has read the Wall Street Journal, HR Magazine, Business Week and Fistful of Talent before the average HR person has turned on their Blackberry” – okay, so not everything on this list is true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Her advice on HR life, “It’s never too early to start beefing up your LinkedIn profile” – Due to recent events, I decline to comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There you have it folks, the most interesting HR person in the world – ME!  I wonder if we are all this interesting and exciting – I can think of one that isn’t.  Courtesy of Fistful of Talent (&lt;a href="http://www.fistfuloftalent.com/"&gt;www.fistfuloftalent.com&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://home.tiscali.nl/beercollection/wallD/dosequis/Dos%20Equis3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8511878972214917895?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8511878972214917895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8511878972214917895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8511878972214917895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8511878972214917895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/07/dos-equis-and-human-resourcesonly-in.html' title='Dos Equis and Human Resources...Only in 2009'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8205968228209797431</id><published>2009-06-06T11:18:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T11:38:33.289-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pee-Pee Monster</title><content type='html'>Presley, my three and half year old Shih Tzu, have never really been potty trained.  She spent the first few months in a cage in our basement, than our dog GiGi was put down.  The thought of having a cute 6 month old puppy in a cage in the basement was too much to bear.  Presley was sprung free.  Since then she has had some ups and downs in the potty department, mostly resulting in accidents throughout our house, ruining the carpet in most rooms.  As cute as she is, she has been known to squat and pee as you are yelling; she just looks at you like you’re the idiot!  I’ve tried everything, including diapers and pajamas.  Doggy diapers are a product available to the masses, but here’s a tip – baby diapers are MUCH cheaper – but you are responsible for cutting the tail hole.  Presley’s run with diapers was long and then WHAM – she stopped peeing in the house!  It worked.  Of course, it wasn’t 100% fool-proof, she still had some accidents along the way, but the peeing in the house habit was defiantly broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of so I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presley has been known to pee in the bed – something that my mother didn’t believe she was capable of until she peed in her bed!  Take that Grandma.  Diapers were never needed at Grandma’s, Presley never has accidents.  I should have seen the writing on the wall, with the whole peeing in the bed situation.  It was the start of Presley’s full regression into diapers and pajamas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every night for the past few nights, Presley has peed in her diaper, spent the night in her cage or both.  She’s not getting the message, even with me pulling her arms in all directions to get her pajamas on at night.  I feel like I should rent an airplane, you know the ones with those message flags dragging behind, that says PRESLEY – STOP PEEING, then I remember, Presley can’t read and Ellie would just bark at the airplane for hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 28 years old, I always thought I was going to be changing diapers, but I thought it was going to be a baby, not a dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8205968228209797431?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8205968228209797431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8205968228209797431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8205968228209797431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8205968228209797431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/06/pee-pee-monster.html' title='The Pee-Pee Monster'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8803200727418470952</id><published>2009-04-10T10:48:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T10:55:08.006-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Amanda's Bucket List</title><content type='html'>X indicates I have done it.  No X indicates I have not.  Relatively simple.  ( ) Gone on a blind date&lt;br /&gt;( ) Donated Blood&lt;br /&gt;(X) Skipped school&lt;br /&gt;( ) Watched someone die&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to Canada&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to Mexico&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to Florida&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been on a plane&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been on a helicopter&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been lost&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone to Washington, DC&lt;br /&gt;( ) Hugged a homeless person &lt;br /&gt;(X) Swam in the ocean&lt;br /&gt;( ) Swam with Stingrays&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been sailing in the ocean&lt;br /&gt;(X) Cried yourself to sleep&lt;br /&gt;(X) Played cops and robbers&lt;br /&gt;( ) Recently colored with crayons&lt;br /&gt;( ) Ran a marathon&lt;br /&gt;(X) Sang Karaoke&lt;br /&gt;(X) Volunteered at a soup kitchen&lt;br /&gt;( ) Paid for a meal with coins only&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to the top of the St. Louis Arch&lt;br /&gt;(X) Seen the Northern Lights&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been Parasailing&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been on TV&lt;br /&gt;(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;(X) Made prank phone calls&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been down Bourbon Street in New Orleans&lt;br /&gt;( ) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose&lt;br /&gt;( ) Fed an elephant&lt;br /&gt;(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue&lt;br /&gt;( ) Fired a gun&lt;br /&gt;(X) Danced in the rain&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to the Opera&lt;br /&gt;(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus&lt;br /&gt;( ) Serenaded someone&lt;br /&gt;( ) Seen a U.S. President in person&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been kissed under the mistletoe&lt;br /&gt;(X) Watched the sunrise with someone&lt;br /&gt;( ) Driven a race car&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to a National Museum&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to a Wax Museum&lt;br /&gt;( ) Eaten caviar&lt;br /&gt;(X) Blown bubbles&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone ice-skating&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone to the movies&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been deep sea fishing&lt;br /&gt;( ) Driven across the United States&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been in a hot air balloon&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been sky diving&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone snowmobiling&lt;br /&gt;( ) Lived in more than one country&lt;br /&gt;( ) Lay down outside at night and admired the stars while listening to the crickets&lt;br /&gt;(X) Seen a falling star and made a wish&lt;br /&gt;( ) Enjoyed the beauty of Old Faithful Geyser&lt;br /&gt;(X) Seen the Grand Canyon&lt;br /&gt;(X) Seen the Statue of Liberty&lt;br /&gt;( ) Gone to the top of Seattle Space Needle&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been on a cruise&lt;br /&gt;(X) Traveled by train&lt;br /&gt;(X) Traveled by motorcycle&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been horse back riding&lt;br /&gt;( ) Ridden on a San Francisco cable car&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to Disneyland OR Disney World&lt;br /&gt;( ) Truly believe in the power of prayer&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been in a rain forest&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to Niagara Falls&lt;br /&gt;( ) Ridden on an elephant&lt;br /&gt;( ) Swam with dolphins&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to the Olympics&lt;br /&gt;( ) Walked on the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;( ) Saw and heard a glacier calf&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been spinnaker flying&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been water-skiing&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been snow-skiing&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to Westminster Abbey&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to the Louvre&lt;br /&gt;( ) Swam in the Mediterranean&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to a Major League Baseball game&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to a National Football League game&lt;br /&gt;( ) Swam with sharks&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been White Water Rafting&lt;br /&gt;(X) Written a book or screen play&lt;br /&gt;( ) Ridden on a paddleboat down a river&lt;br /&gt;( ) Gotten a tattoo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suggestions welcome...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8803200727418470952?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8803200727418470952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8803200727418470952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8803200727418470952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8803200727418470952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/04/amandas-bucket-list.html' title='Amanda&apos;s Bucket List'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-1626236175830222207</id><published>2009-04-06T15:04:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T15:05:30.782-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Kinda Festival</title><content type='html'>My intention this Sunday was to spend the day with Bobbie in Georgetown, a section of Washington DC, browse the shops, drink a coffee, go to a flea market and then take part in the DC Cherry Blossom Festival, which takes place around the tidal basin at Monument Alley.  For the geography majors out there, Georgetown, or M Street in Georgetown is “across the river” from the Kennedy Center, and not exactly in walking distance from the tidal basin.  Needless to say, we went into it knowing that we would have to park, at least once. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here was the plan – yep, I know, we made one – scary.  Leave the house at 7am, make the hour long drive into downtown DC and park the car in and around the tidal basin closest to the Cherry Blossom Festival.  The GT flea market was the real reason for this Sunday outing since Bobbie has been reading the blog of some woman who lives in Alabama and gets all kinds of bargains at local flea markets.  For whatever reason, Bobbie felt a Sunday flea market in DC was the best place to start.  Looks like my summer Sunday’s are booked.  This flea market started at 8:30am and apparently ended at 4pm, which was a piece of information that wasn’t shared with me until we got there.  Our intention, park near the tidal basin, jump on the metro, zip over the GT for the flea market, a few hours of browsing and then back via metro to the tidal basin to stroll through the Cherry Blossoms and vela, right near the car.  Arrive in DC about 8am with the idea that there would be plenty of parking since it was so early in the morning.  Like who in their right mind is out of the house at 8am on the most beautiful Sunday this year after a week full of rain.  THE ENTIRE CITY.  I mean the place was packed!  PACKED to the brim.  Oh yeah, it was freaking Palm Sunday too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick change of plans – drive to GT, park there and ditch the stroll though the Cherry Blossoms for a drive though the prestigious Kenwood neighborhood in Besethda, a neighborhood with Cherry Blossom lined streets, and where Richie Rich/Bobbie lived during high school.  A very doable compromise since this was really her day not mine, I just wanted to go to Urban Outfitters on M Street.  We found the flea market, which should have been reason enough to head home.  Some old black guy wanted $225 for one bronze (most likely fake) sconce, which was a ‘today only deal’, down from the original $750.  Needless to say, we left more or less empty handed.  So we bailed, re-parked the car closer to M Street and started to walk – let the browsing begin.  It’s only 11am and on Sunday’s shops on M Street open at noon.  Fan-freaking-tastic.  We decide to walk down by the river instead, taking in the architectural wonder that is GT.  We go only to one shop, The Paper Source.  Does that really sound like it can compete with Urban Outfitters?  Right, one guess who wanted to go there?  Not only was Bobbie starting to whine as she started to get ‘tired’, which is code for disappointed and board, she was hungry.  A deadly combination.  After some driving around looking for yet another parking space, we eat at one of the best Mexican places I’ve been too in a long time.  Worth the fighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will full bellies, it was on to view the Cherry Blossoms.  Okay, if you’re not from DC or the DC area, as far north as Baltimore, you have no idea what a cherry blossom is, let alone why people worship these blooming tress.  Yep, you read that right, Cherry Blossoms have nothing to do with cherries, but are simply ‘beautiful trees’ the bloom in the early spring.  DC-ians go crazy for these, mostly the Korean population.  They love to take pictures of their little Korean kids amongst the bring white-pinkish blossoms.  The perfect Easter picture.  Do Korean’s believe in Easter? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been to the prestigious Kenwood neighborhood before.  Every now and again Bobbie grows nostalgic of the life she lived there.  It’s a pretty neighborhood full of big houses in a colonial type setting.  Very Bestheda, very Bobbie.  As we approach the entrance to the neighborhood, we see a long line of cars and a police officer directing traffic.  We should have taken that as a note and just headed home, but it’s not like we read the writing on the walls the entire day.  We entered the neighborhood as instructed by the Montgomery County police and WHAM, to think the crowds at the tidal basin were bad – that had nothing on this place.  Anyone who lived in Baltimore in summer of 2004 lived though the ‘Cicada Summer’ knows the feeling of opening your front door and getting smacked in the face with 500 buzzing wings.  This was the same feeling but with people and small children in bike helmets.  The streets were lined with parked cars, mostly on one side and a single lane of solid traffic right down the center, coupled with the droves of people who didn’t live in the neighborhood walking at a snails pace, taking in the beauty of the Cherry Blossoms.  Yep, you guest it, lots of Koreans.  People everywhere, just walking down the middle of the road, with little concern for the cars who just might have a reason to be the neighborhood – yeah right, none of them did.  They were all like us, out for a Sunday drive, snapping pictures at every turn.  There are little areas in the neighborhood, at the ends of streets or intersections of others, grassy medians, where the people just set up shop, complete with picnic lunches.  It was amazing that a neighborhood would allow this to occur, on Palm Sunday to boot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped by an open house, of course a house that Bobbie was ‘dying’ to see inside, even though the outside was nothing to write home about.  We luckily found an open spot almost right across from the house.  We enter, only to have the smell of mothballs smack us right in the face – like a ton of bricks.  The more of the house we walk through, the more it becomes clear that grandparents are living here.  Mismatched furniture, resembling the lobby of a nursing home, different art pieces, resembling that of a Motel 6.  Nightmare for sale.  The house was big, somewhat large rooms and hallways, which the realtor was certain to point out, but what an odd layout.  There was a jack-n-jill bathroom, which I totally love, with a separate shower and tub.  Think it sounds great right?  The tub was a kiddy-tub, short, low walls and square, certainly not something an adult could bath in without flooding the whole upstairs of the house!  After reviewing the rest of the property, I picked up the flyer near the front door while the upstairs realtor made sure she asked me to ‘keep this place in mind, maybe for a friend or a co-worker’.  As if she didn’t think I could afford the $2,295,000 price tag?  What, did she log into my back account last night and check my balance?  I felt like saying ‘Lady, I was about to put an offer in on this house, but the fact that you are going to make about $150,000 commission, I choose to keep looking’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dodged the swarms of people walking down the middle of the street and made our way out of the prestigious Kenwood neighborhood and headed home.  Exhausted, but pleased with the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-1626236175830222207?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/1626236175830222207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=1626236175830222207' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/1626236175830222207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/1626236175830222207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/04/some-kinda-festival.html' title='Some Kinda Festival'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-2589338059384733861</id><published>2009-04-04T14:38:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T14:38:50.670-10:00</updated><title type='text'>99% Success Rate</title><content type='html'>“I’m a third generation matchmaker with a 99% success rate”, says Patti Stanger, CEO of Millionaire’s Club, a LA based dating firm.  Stanger, most recently known for her BRAVO hit show – The Millionaire Matchmaker, was the Director of Marketing for Great Expectations, one of the largest dating firms in the United States, prior to opening her club in 2000. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone seen this show?  I don’t mean have you caught a quick few seconds while surfing the channel wave, but have you really seen this show?  If you’ve seen this show, you’ll understand my borderline obsession with Patti Stanger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, she’s gorgeous!  Tall, dark hair, carries herself with a air of instant confidence.  I’m a pretty confident person, I don’t let situations intimidate me, and I can usually carry a conversation with just about anyone; what can I say, I’m an extravert.  When I watch Patti in action, I think of her as a better version of myself.  She has her shit together; not to mention her famous one-liners.  I’m jealous of that, I’m not to big of person to admit it.  I’ve had some good one-liners in my life, but most of them I steal from others and just insert them in to appropriate situations.  I’ll take the credit though! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A list of one-liners, courtesy of Patti Stanger. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nobody likes a brag-a-sorous”&lt;br /&gt;“Are you too much of a player to be a stayer?”&lt;br /&gt;“Women are not gonna spread for you, unless you do it”&lt;br /&gt;“It doesn’t cost anything to have manners”&lt;br /&gt;“I come from a world of heavy hitters, where guys are super mega-wealthy”&lt;br /&gt;“Ageism is a problem in America”&lt;br /&gt;“He’s typical 90210 high school”&lt;br /&gt;“You only have a short window to jump from flower to flower and see what’s pollinating”&lt;br /&gt;“He picked the twins because they are twins – double the headlights”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patti lays it out – she tells it like it is – no holding back.  Sound familiar?  I don’t think that’s a fatal flaw of mine, but an extremely endearing quality.  True, you have to adjust to that level of honesty; it can be a lot to take, until you get to know me.  I don’t think I’m presenting myself in the best light here; I’m a really great person.  &lt;&lt;insert&gt;&gt;.  I don’t think there is anything wrong with being a strong person; knowing who you are, where you came from, where you want to go and who you want to take with you.  I think that’s stopping being a kid and starting being an adult.  WOW – big step. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh shit, did I just become a brag-a-sorous?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-2589338059384733861?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/2589338059384733861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=2589338059384733861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2589338059384733861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2589338059384733861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/04/99-success-rate.html' title='99% Success Rate'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-5856197280334307115</id><published>2009-03-28T06:02:00.008-10:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T06:29:51.362-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Personal Design Style</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5P_wNQsvI/AAAAAAAAAGY/aPub3wrS6sQ/s1600-h/1-2-level-beach-house.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318276166662009586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5P_wNQsvI/AAAAAAAAAGY/aPub3wrS6sQ/s200/1-2-level-beach-house.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was recently asked my personal interior design style. Since I’m renting right now, the current style of my house is not mine, but my roommate’s. This is clearly a difference of opinion for us. She is very traditional, antiques and “shabby chic”, where I’m one of two extremes – California Craftsman or Beachy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;California Craftsman&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen The L Word? Bette and Tina’s house is California &lt;a href="http://www.orangeries.org/images/oak-orangery-interior.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Craftsman and I LOVE IT! California Craftsman also called &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5PIDN-LvI/AAAAAAAAAGI/Kjm5k-dIniY/s1600-h/26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318275209692589810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5PIDN-LvI/AAAAAAAAAGI/Kjm5k-dIniY/s200/26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Craftsman Bungalow, has chunky, dark wood molding framing windows, block style railings and furniture, built-in bookcases, and benches, and stone fireplaces, often times off set by striking warm colors either with paint or art. Most California Craftsman homes have large planked, sometimes dark, wood flooring. I can see hurricane glass containers filled with candles on the mantle of the stone fireplace, large scale framed art from local and famous artists, and amazing lighting fixtures cascading warm light thought the space. California Craftsman is an amazing style and fits me like a glove. I love the concept of dark, rich woods, making a home feel warm and inviting, but casual at the same time. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5Pq2blLnI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Wz_7kRrFmP4/s1600-h/wldherbuninter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318275807555432050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5Pq2blLnI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Wz_7kRrFmP4/s200/wldherbuninter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;To me, it’s all about being causal. I’m one of the most causal people around. I’m attracted to casual. I love to spend the weekends in jeans, tee shirts and flip-flops. I’m causal, but not unkept or cheap – just check out my RL Polo collection. My roommate’s traditional and antique style just doesn’t mesh with causal and relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5N8CXB98I/AAAAAAAAAF4/Tr_A3xpNRuU/s1600-h/livingview.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318273903792093122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 109px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5N8CXB98I/AAAAAAAAAF4/Tr_A3xpNRuU/s200/livingview.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Beachy&lt;br /&gt;I grew up one block from the ocean on a barrier island in south Jersey. By no means was my house a “beach house”; it didn’t have that beach house vibe, but I have salt water running &lt;a href="http://img.coxnewsweb.com/B/07/47/58/image_6958477.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px" alt="" src="http://img.coxnewsweb.com/B/07/47/58/image_6958477.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;though my veins and sand between my toes. The beachy style is full of light, airy colors, cool blues, greens and grays. Bedrooms are full of crisp, clean, white bedding. Great art, full of vibrant colors, of sailboats, lighthouses and sun sets. Wonderful accessories, candles and the feeling of rest and relaxation. A beach house should be easy to clean, easy to keep clean and full of light. It’s the ultimate causal feeling, usually with a great outdoor space that can be used for entertaining friends, family and kids. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5OB4xXeQI/AAAAAAAAAGA/e3k6qMUeoao/s1600-h/interior.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318274004297414914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 109px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5OB4xXeQI/AAAAAAAAAGA/e3k6qMUeoao/s200/interior.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It’s a great feeling to set foot in a beach house and I want that feeling every time I walk through the door. It’s far different from California Craftsman but I think an amazing mix would a little bit of both. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I do a good job of conveying my personal style to those in my life, because every person who has walked through my front door has said, “wow, this really isn’t your house”. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-5856197280334307115?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/5856197280334307115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=5856197280334307115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/5856197280334307115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/5856197280334307115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/03/personal-design-style.html' title='Personal Design Style'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Sc5P_wNQsvI/AAAAAAAAAGY/aPub3wrS6sQ/s72-c/1-2-level-beach-house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-5554618570860787544</id><published>2009-03-26T14:30:00.002-10:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T14:33:56.687-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Purchase of Presley</title><content type='html'>The start of my 25th year sparked many changes in my life; some might call it a “twenty-something crisis”. Thankfully, my birth year coincides with the calendar year so the events of the first few weeks are easy to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days after I rang in the New Year, I started a new job. I left a terrible job situation as a Healthcare Recruiter/Staffing Coordinator for what I thought was much greener pastures as an HR Administrator; something more in my field, using what I will be paying off for the next 50 years. I had spent the last 3 weeks of my first job searching the Internet for teacup Maltese puppies. I know what you’re thinking, “they are paying you”. You know what I say to that, “not enough”. I found some amazingly cute puppies, all girls, big black eyes, pocket size; I could go on and on. I had discussed the possibility of purchasing a dog with my mom, who quickly convinced me that I shouldn’t. I agreed that I was years away from that decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScweWoJVgwI/AAAAAAAAAFY/n9g0vswSBR0/s1600-h/105_0593.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317658634100245250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScweWoJVgwI/AAAAAAAAAFY/n9g0vswSBR0/s200/105_0593.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The third weekend in January, I turned 25. YIKES! I more or less had a mental breakdown. Here was my “logic”. I just turned 25 – twenty-five; that means that half of my twenties were over - only a memory. The other half, well that meant I was almost THIRTY. That freaked me out. I remember standing in my bathroom, looking the mirror, thinking, “you are almost thirty”. I took that thought with me for the rest of the day. Every spare minute of that day, I thought, “you are almost thirty”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following weekend, after a week of thinking, “you are almost thirty”, I went to Starbucks for&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScweepohsOI/AAAAAAAAAFg/pWeMZj4huHU/s1600-h/105_0596.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317658771938455778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScweepohsOI/AAAAAAAAAFg/pWeMZj4huHU/s200/105_0596.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; my usually cup o’ Joe and picked up the Baltimore Sun. I really just wanted to check the “for sale” ads for puppies. Of course, I found one very interesting. “Shih Tzu Puppies 4 Sale”. I looked at my roommate, read the ad aloud, she called the phone number, while I grabbed the keys and Gigi. The lady who placed the ad said that she had already spoken to someone who was coming down that same day to get one of the females. “You know what,” she said, “first come, first serve”. Before we knew it, we were heading to the bank to withdraw some cash. Of course, animals are a cash only purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Scwen7rhCAI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Y9NuOCyslgg/s1600-h/106_0602.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317658931401656322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/Scwen7rhCAI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Y9NuOCyslgg/s200/106_0602.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We drove the 1+ distance to the address the lady had given us. We were supposed to call her when we were about 20 minutes away, but due to excitement, we both forgot. When we finally called she told us she actually had two females so we could have out pick. She also said that one of the females was red; I almost feel over with excitement. A female, red Shih Tzu puppy, what had I done to deserve this? That was the exact dog I had pictured in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We followed the directions to the lady’s house; YIKES. We walked in the house that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in thirty years and the Christmas decorations that were still up, looked like they were from the thirties. She showed us to the kitchen, were the puppies were. She had a huge pen like thing set up in the middle of her kitchen; they were all in there. All but one were from the same litter. The “odd girl out” was sitting up against the wall of the pen while the others were running in circles around the pen. She tried to point to the other female, but she was running so fast, we had a hard time figuring out which one she was talking about. I picked up the “odd girl out”, but quickly put her back down; just didn’t feel the connection. I attempted to grab the other girl who was still playing with her brothers, it took me a few tries; she kept slipping through my fingers. Finally, I picked her up, looked at her face with her tongue hanging out and her stinky breath, and said, with 100% confidence, “I’ll take this one”. A few minutes later, we were introducing her to Gigi. About 15 minutes later, my roommate looked at me and said, “what are you going to name her?” “Presley,” I responded with confidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following weekend, we packed up my Jeep with myself, my roommate and our now two dogs and headed back to NJ to help my family move from their house on the island to their new house on the mainland. They were leaving behind over 30 years of memories, so I figured I would come home and help. I didn’t exactly tell my mother that I was bringing home my newest bundle of joy! We met my mom at the new house so she could meet my roommate for the first time. There I was, standing in the empty dining room with baby Presley in my arms when my mom walked in and caught a quick glimpse. “Amanda, what a big responsibility.” She had nothing else to say about Presley, except “yes, she’s cute, but what a big responsibility”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScwexANPGCI/AAAAAAAAAFw/fTV6_YC-ysA/s1600-h/2.2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317659087235651618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScwexANPGCI/AAAAAAAAAFw/fTV6_YC-ysA/s200/2.2009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here we are three years later. Not such a big responsibility!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-5554618570860787544?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/5554618570860787544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=5554618570860787544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/5554618570860787544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/5554618570860787544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/03/purchase-of-presley.html' title='The Purchase of Presley'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScweWoJVgwI/AAAAAAAAAFY/n9g0vswSBR0/s72-c/105_0593.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-6829518951491998710</id><published>2009-03-24T14:28:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T14:29:23.595-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought provoking questions</title><content type='html'>There is no hidden meaning to this list of questions.  You don’t need to answer the questions, divide your answers by 12, multiply by 1,000 and you will get the date of your wedding.  You don’t need to make a wish and send this list to 2700 people in order for that wish to come true.  Just read the questions, send some time thinking about yourself and answer them honestly (in your head).  You might just learn something about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pepsi or Coke?&lt;br /&gt;Diet or regular?&lt;br /&gt;Miller Lite or Bud Lite?&lt;br /&gt;Corona or vodka cranberry?&lt;br /&gt;Dog or cat?&lt;br /&gt;Townhouse or apartment?&lt;br /&gt;Love or lust?&lt;br /&gt;Long distance or ability to drop over with coffee?&lt;br /&gt;Chi latte or café mocha?&lt;br /&gt;CNN or MSNBC?&lt;br /&gt;Today Show or Good Morning America?&lt;br /&gt;Kelly or Kathy Lee?&lt;br /&gt;Obama or Clinton?&lt;br /&gt;Clinton or Palin?&lt;br /&gt;Oil or Solar?&lt;br /&gt;Las Vegas or Los Angeles?&lt;br /&gt;Beach or Mountain?&lt;br /&gt;East coast or west coast?&lt;br /&gt;Kids or Pets?&lt;br /&gt;Spend or Invest?&lt;br /&gt;Bailout or bury?&lt;br /&gt;Layoff or hours cut back?&lt;br /&gt;Democracy or Dictator?&lt;br /&gt;American Idol or America’s Got Talent?&lt;br /&gt;Friends or Friends with benefits?&lt;br /&gt;Mac or PC?&lt;br /&gt;Cook or Archuleta?&lt;br /&gt;Google or Ask.com?&lt;br /&gt;Full name or nickname?&lt;br /&gt;English or Spanish?&lt;br /&gt;Text or Email?&lt;br /&gt;Facebook or Twitter?&lt;br /&gt;New York or Philly?&lt;br /&gt;Pat’s or Genos? (only known if your from the greater Philly area)&lt;br /&gt;Philllies or Yankess?&lt;br /&gt;Real World or Road Rules?&lt;br /&gt;Original or Sequel?&lt;br /&gt;Canister vacuum or upright?&lt;br /&gt;Retirement or Keep Working?&lt;br /&gt;Reduce or Reuse?&lt;br /&gt;Fireworks or Sparklers?&lt;br /&gt;4th of July or Labor Day?&lt;br /&gt;Sneakers or Tennis Shoes?&lt;br /&gt;Air Force or Army?&lt;br /&gt;Blackberry or iPhone?&lt;br /&gt;Fun or Time Waster?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-6829518951491998710?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/6829518951491998710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=6829518951491998710' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6829518951491998710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6829518951491998710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/03/thought-provoking-questions.html' title='Thought provoking questions'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-2274723096100299004</id><published>2009-03-21T11:35:00.010-10:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T12:02:55.556-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Songs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ipods.techfresh.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/ipod-nano2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://ipods.techfresh.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/ipod-nano2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Music is one of the best things in the world, along with the usual; running water, indoor plumbing, electricity, the microwave, and reality tv. Apple’s iPod changed the way people listen to and appreciate music, but I’m not totally convinced it was one of those “without flaw” changes to mankind. Don’t get me wrong; I love my iPod as much as I love by blackberry and Fox’s Reality TV channel. But I miss the days of making mix cds (or tapes for my older readers). With mix cds you were able to share music with others, music that reminds of you a particular place or moment. Everyone has those memories and songs can bring you back to that memory in an instant. I love music, constantly searching for new artists and genres but with the iPod era it’s impossible to share my music selections with others. Your music selections, tastes and play lists are like a picture into your heart and head. Apple has stripped our ability to share music with others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many mix cds do you have? How many were given to you from friends or lovers? When you listen to them, don’t they bring you back to a particular place and time and evoke intense memories and feelings? I have about 7 mix cds that were gifts, each with a different feeling or memory in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVgXxwhKaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/9mDP_FYCcU8/s1600-h/67417-label-cd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315760896790833570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVgXxwhKaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/9mDP_FYCcU8/s200/67417-label-cd.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mix cd #1 – Found on my car the morning I moved from NJ to MD. The songs are all about people leaving town, being needed to return, being missed and love lost. There was no note attached to the cd I found that morning – just labeled “Amanda’s mix”. I was driving the long 4 hours to my new house alone in my then VW Beatle with tears streaming down my face as I played the cd over and over. It didn’t shock me at that time that I had such strong emotions about the music coming from the speakers, but even now when I play it, that emotion is still there; still so real. That is the power of music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVghLvzVAI/AAAAAAAAAE4/L88Dbarkiys/s1600-h/67417-label-cd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315761058385974274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 102px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVghLvzVAI/AAAAAAAAAE4/L88Dbarkiys/s200/67417-label-cd.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mix cd #2 and #3 - Given to me while in college. These two cds together compile some of the best and meaningful music I have in my collection. I haven’t listened to them in years; I have them tucked away in an old shoebox under my bed. Not sure why I’m keeping them if I don’t listen to them, but I can’t seem to let them go. I don’t even talk to the person who gave them to me. That is the power of music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVgnr4uKBI/AAAAAAAAAFA/S6vJF6ugOe0/s1600-h/67417-label-cd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315761170092533778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 146px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 111px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVgnr4uKBI/AAAAAAAAAFA/S6vJF6ugOe0/s200/67417-label-cd.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mix cd #4 – Given to me by my sorority sisters at my senior ceremony (basically your last day as an undergraduate sister). This cd, although loved, is one of the strangest mixes I’ve ever heard. I really like when cds and play lists cross musical genres, but this cd is out there – even for my taste. It brings back memories of parties, laughs, dances and formals (of course, we’re sorority girls). I don’t have a lot of pictures from my college days (thanks to Meredith, I remember why) so this cd means a lot to me. It reminds me of the one of the best times of my life, a time that I don’t too often think about and tend to only remember the bad parts. That’s the power of music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2 years ago, my best friend Julie got married. We were at the airport, picking up two of her bridesmaids and of course one had made a mix cd for Julie. It was all about marriage and love. I can remember thinking “wow, do they still sell blank cds?” It’s only gotten worse since then. I love the music on my iPod; I work hard to update it often, added the latest from the Billboard charts, songs heard on good tv shows or movies and recommendations from friends. That’s where I struggle; not that I don’t trust my friends sense of music (well some of them I do), but I have to shell out the 99 cents to purchase the song from iTunes just to listen to the whole song! Yeah, yeah, 99 cents isn’t a huge sum of money, but the point isn’t the money – it’s the music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVi3R9pZBI/AAAAAAAAAFI/HwGuwcQ36Uk/s1600-h/NotebookPaper.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315763637035033618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 194px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVi3R9pZBI/AAAAAAAAAFI/HwGuwcQ36Uk/s200/NotebookPaper.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVjXUBO0bI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/6E3u6WyQtrI/s1600-h/NotebookPaper2.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315764187342754226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 172px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVjXUBO0bI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/6E3u6WyQtrI/s200/NotebookPaper2.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-2274723096100299004?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/2274723096100299004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=2274723096100299004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2274723096100299004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2274723096100299004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/03/music-is-one-of-best-things-in-world.html' title='Songs'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/ScVgXxwhKaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/9mDP_FYCcU8/s72-c/67417-label-cd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-353961665140870861</id><published>2009-03-16T14:30:00.005-10:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T14:39:53.134-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.slowlane.net/travel/photos/Pantheon/Carmen_knocking_on_the_door_at_the_Pantheon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 276px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 316px" alt="" src="http://www.slowlane.net/travel/photos/Pantheon/Carmen_knocking_on_the_door_at_the_Pantheon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I spend about 18 minutes of my 20 minute morning dog walk avoiding the people in my neighborhood. Only the first steps are still and calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Avoidance #1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; – Weird Guy who’s daughter comes and knocks my door to “play”. This guy doesn’t even technically live in my neighborhood. It all started about 3 years ago when he saw us outside our house with our two dogs. He came walking over, allowing his dog (which he thinks is the same breed as mine – ps: he isn’t) to play with my dogs. Harmless enough, but that was only the beginning. It sort of morphed into this obsession, where he and/or his daughter, age 12, comes RUNNING over to our house the minute they see our door open. His daughter has knocked on our front door more times than I can count, always asking “can the girls (meaning my dogs) come out and play?” Really, you can’t make this up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Avoidance #2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; – Shortest guy on the planet with the ugliest Schnauzer I’ve ever seen. I’m not &lt;a href="http://www.breederretriever.com/photopost/data/719/medium/schnauzer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 166px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 127px" alt="" src="http://www.breederretriever.com/photopost/data/719/medium/schnauzer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;sure where this guy lives, but he makes ever effort to walk either by my house, linger on my corner or suddenly change directions to face me. Anyone who knows my dog Ellie, knows that she will not stand for that type of behavior. She hates that Schnauzer as much as I hate that guy. It’s like he’s totally oblivious to the fact that Ellie wants to eat his leg, or he just does it to really get under my skin. I think the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ace.imageg.net/graphics/product_images/pACE-954790reg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 165px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="http://ace.imageg.net/graphics/product_images/pACE-954790reg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Avoidance #3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; – Lady scared of dog poop. About two alleys over there lives a lady who has two dogs. She walks them every morning and night; always the same route. She carries a poop contraption so she won’t have to lean over and pick up the poop with her bag-covered hand – like the rest of dog owners. I don’t really have a problem with the poop contraption, to each his own, but her dogs are so unruly; I don’t think she could control them without the poop contraption taking over her right hand. Oh yeah, not to mention she is typically on her cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Avoidance #4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; – The children of the multi-family townhouse behind me. I call it the multi-family townhouse because neighborhood rumor had it that the owner of the 4 level townhouse divided up each floor and rented it out to a different family. Rumor, I know. Anyway, the kids are ridiculous. They see us all the time, well less now since I’m avoiding them daily, and every time they see us they ask “Oh, are those your dogs? What are their names?” But you have to picture those sentences coming out of the mouth of an obese 12 year-old with a smoker’s voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, but really, you can’t make this up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-353961665140870861?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/353961665140870861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=353961665140870861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/353961665140870861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/353961665140870861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/03/dance.html' title='The Dance'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-859249744000127991</id><published>2009-03-11T14:44:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T14:45:31.196-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The One</title><content type='html'>Do you really believe that there is only one person for everyone?  One person that each one of us is destined to be with; like it’s somehow cosmically predetermined and life is just a series of events leading up to finding them in a sea of millions.  That’s a hard concept for me to wrap my head around.  I look at some of my married friends; the lives they lead before, the relationships and what they had to go through before they found the one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take my friend Jessie.  She was in a relationship with Rusty; most of us thought that was it for both of them.  He had an affair with her friend.  Most of her friends knew what was happening and didn’t stop or tell her.  That relationship ended.  He moved on to marry another friend; she moved half way across the country and found the one.  So her decision to move, leave her friends and family behind, had to be cosmically predetermined.  All in the name of finding the one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if you miss your chance?  What if the one, the cosmically predetermined person, already came into your life and you blew it?  What if they were in your life but you never acted on the chance and now it’s passed.  Will you get a second chance?  How will the cosmically predetermined person re-enter your life, if they are really the one?  Should you question each person from your past who crossing your path again?  Are they the one?  How will you know?  Will there be a neon flashing sign above the person’s head – &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;THE ONE, THE ONE, THE ONE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, like something off the Las Vegas strip?  Doubtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you have this person who you knew years ago, at a time in your life when things were changing.  You were learning about yourself, about your life path, who you wanted to become and who you wanted to share in your memories.  You lost touch, you reconnected several years later, you lost touch, you reconnected.  Maybe your losing touch again.  Are they the one?  What if you can’t get them out of your head?  Everything you see, hear, or do, make you think of this person.  Anytime you have a free second your thoughts go to that person.  Does that mean you should pose the question – is there a chance for us?  Do you put yourself out there, allow yourself to be venerable in a situation that you can’t control?  Do you leave it up to cosmically predetermined?  What if they reject you?  How many times does someone have to come back into your life, at exactly the moment you need them the most, before you really believe they are THE ONE?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-859249744000127991?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/859249744000127991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=859249744000127991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/859249744000127991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/859249744000127991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/03/one.html' title='The One'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8715551791982257543</id><published>2009-03-04T14:59:00.006-10:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T15:27:59.229-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiosks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2103/2041039779_78472a4b43.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 105px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 103px" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2103/2041039779_78472a4b43.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In mid December, the HR department, spear-headed by the VP, met with the head of IT regarding a simple, small scale, IT project called Kiosks. The project design was simple: 8 computer kiosk stations, 4 in each of our two locations, 3 for employees without computer access and 1 for applicants (finally a paperless process). “That sounds pretty straight forward”, remarks the head of IT, “we’ll get a PM right one it and we’ll have it completed in about a month. Certainly by the last week of January.” Overwhelming applause from the HR department beaming with ideas of how they can better communicate to employees, increase their self-sufficiency, grant them access to information and complete a 100% paperless Open Enrollment. Open Enrollment was already scheduled and Kiosk’s delivery date was within &lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d5/No_sign.svg/600px-No_sign.svg.png"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;that target, even had a few weeks of “wiggle room”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the month of January, the HR department started to see some motion on Kiosks. The PM, Casper, was assigned to Kiosks. He assembled an all-star team, Baldy, Big Guy, and Dumb-Dumb. Equipment was ordered, furniture was ordered, and locations were selected. Project updates were sent out almost weekly keeping all parties informed of the movement. The HR department quickly became buried in Open Enrollment activities, planning, packet assembly, the list is endless; the last thing on anyone’s mind was Kiosks. Thank god for the project updates; Casper appeared to be on top of things and required little involved from the HR department. Kiosks was under control and making progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FKZ/8YJ2/FC2E8SMJ/FKZ8YJ2FC2E8SMJ.MEDIUM.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px" alt="" src="http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FKZ/8YJ2/FC2E8SMJ/FKZ8YJ2FC2E8SMJ.MEDIUM.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.instructables.com/files/deriv/FKZ/8YJ2/FC2E8SMJ/FKZ8YJ2FC2E8SMJ.MEDIUM.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Stations 1-4 were installed at location B three days before Open Enrollment, about one week behind the projected delivery date. Stations 1-4 were not intended to be installed before 5-8, but rather should have been installed simultaneously. Casper explained the installation of stations 5-8 would occur during the next week and was delayed due the furniture order. The project update confirmed the install date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid-February rolled around and stations 5-8 have not been installed. Casper no longer sends out project updates. “Dear HR, Accounting needs to have 4 computers for the auditors who are arriving tomorrow and will be on site for 2 weeks. The only available computers are the ones for stations 5-8. Kiosks has been delayed”, wrote Casper. “We’re not happy,” was the general response from the HR department, “but it’s not like he gave us much of a choice.” “Kiosks will be completed once the accounting is through using the equipment. In the meantime, where do you want stations 5-8? Do the selected areas have electricity and Internet?” Wait, was Casper asking the HR department about electricity and Internet wiring? It’s called Human Resources for a reason, is electricity or Internet a human? “Casper, I really think that someone on your team is better equipped to answer. Aren’t you guys in IT?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the last week of February, Casper feels the project needs one more project manager to help tie up the loose ends; Peanut joins the squad. “HR, this is Peanut. He and Baldy are committed to completing Kiosks by the end of the week.” “Casper, you realize that it’s 2:45pm on Friday afternoon. By the end of the week, do you mean in the next 3 hours?” asked the HR&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d5/No_sign.svg/600px-No_sign.svg.png"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; department. “By the end week,” replied Casper. The HR department is finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. “Can you just clarify one last time where you want station 5, the application station?” he asked. Really? Do we have to really go through this again? “Casper, for the last time, I want station 5 in the lobby of location A against the plain blue wall”, remarked the HR department. “Like I said, Baldy said he’ll get it done today.” &lt;a href="http://erlc.com/images/article_photos/misc/Man_screaming_-_iStock.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://erlc.com/images/article_photos/misc/Man_screaming_-_iStock.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px" alt="" src="http://erlc.com/images/article_photos/misc/Man_screaming_-_iStock.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Monday morning when the HR department reports to work, there is no station 5 in the lobby as confirmed by Casper and his team of clowns and of course, which has become the usually, no project update. It appears Kiosks will never get completed. Tuesday, no station 5, no word from Casper. The HR department was starting to think that Casper had left the building, for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday afternoon, a visitor to the HR department, a resident of the tent, but he’s old school so he’s not considered part of the problem, but more just part of the family. “I see station 5 is up,” he commented in passing with a side smile. “Effie, come back. Did you say that station 5 is up? I didn’t hear Peanut or Baldy out there.” called out the HR department. “Oh yeah, it’s up, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it. Station 5 is in the back of the building,” he smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The HR department grows more irate with each sentence he utters; each flash of his pearly whites. The HR department walks to the back of the building to review the disaster that Kiosks has become. The HR department swings open the door, scans the room quickly and settles on station 5, set up on a table with a mismatched chair! “You’ve got to be kidding me,” screams the HR department, “it really is a tent full of clowns!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“HR, I noticed that station 5 has been set up, however, the desktop image is an unapproved company logo and must be replaced immediately,” a quickly witted comment from a passerby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BjrRgszJNKc/SIX2G-jOwUI/AAAAAAAAAJA/9nNNsZjNggo/s400/screaming.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BjrRgszJNKc/SIX2G-jOwUI/AAAAAAAAAJA/9nNNsZjNggo/s400/screaming.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;“Dear Casper, I’ve noticed that station 5 is set up, in the wrong location using the wrong furniture. Station 5 needs to be moved by the end of the week, since it was promised for completion the end of last week. By the way, what is the status of station 6-8?” asked the HR department. In line the norm, Casper has yet to respond.&lt;br /&gt;To be continued….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8715551791982257543?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8715551791982257543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8715551791982257543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8715551791982257543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8715551791982257543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/03/kiosks.html' title='Kiosks'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BjrRgszJNKc/SIX2G-jOwUI/AAAAAAAAAJA/9nNNsZjNggo/s72-c/screaming.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-1032295711085949547</id><published>2009-02-26T15:29:00.005-10:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T15:35:03.791-10:00</updated><title type='text'>A Matter of Choice</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bigyellowtaxi.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/crossroads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="http://bigyellowtaxi.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/crossroads.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Did you ever stop to think for a minute about choices? The choices you make that impact your life, changing your pattern or course. The choices that others make that impact your life, changing your pattern or course. The list of various choices you make just to get up in the morning or order a cup of coffee. Life simply put in a series of choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each morning, you make a least 10 choices before you leave the house.&lt;br /&gt;Hit the snooze?&lt;br /&gt;Shower?&lt;br /&gt;Thong or full butt?&lt;br /&gt;Pants or skirt?&lt;br /&gt;Button down, sweater, polo?&lt;br /&gt;Man’s fossil, swatch or ladies fossil?&lt;br /&gt;Color of ladies fossil?&lt;br /&gt;Bobbie pin?&lt;br /&gt;Boots or heals?&lt;br /&gt;Go back to bed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You haven’t even left your bedroom yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s talk about Starbucks; right, I know what you’re thinking, Tom Hanks went over this same topic in an email to Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail. It bears a big truth. Even the most indecisive person can feel extremely decisive with one cup of coffee. Everyone knows that Starbucks is not just a cup of coffee but a place where you have to understand the menu, the ordering lingo and make 5 decisions in 2.5 seconds. Grande, non-fat, sugar free, caramel, extra hot, no foam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about those choices that have a greater impact then the color watch you wear or the amount of foam in your morning latte? I’m talking about those decisions that in an instant can change your fate. Your college choice, your 1st through 50th job, buying, presenting and accepting a diamond ring, saying I do, picking a house…the list is endless. Each choice, in a specific and unique way, changes your course, modifies your end goal and impacts yourself and those around you. You have control over these choices. You are driving the bus. Don’t get me wrong, decisions like these require a multitude of thought and consideration, but it’s your course; change it as you see fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are choices that you make with others; choices you have a fifty-fifty stake in. Honeymoon destination, Saturday night movie, bread of dog, name of child, number of children, color of the living room…also an endless list. Choices made in a partnership can also impact your course, but in an effort to comfort you, the choice impacts the other person’s course equally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are choices that others make that directly impact you; might not even impact them or to the same degree. My roommates’ parents chose what college she went to. This decision, I agree a sick injustice to my roommate, impacted her course in a far greater way than her parents. The start of her adult life was chosen by someone else, with what I believe was little consideration of her feelings in the matter. Not only did her parents make choices her whole life molding her into the person they expected, but also now, this choice, to some, the first choice a child makes thrusting them into adulthood, was made by someone else; someone with little stake in the outcome. It really only impacted her parent’s checkbook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, there are choices that impact your course, modify your faith, where you aren’t even in the passenger seat. You may not even know the choice maker at all. These choices can have the greatest impact on your future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life is a series of choices, made by you and made by others; some you can control but the scariest are the ones you cannot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-1032295711085949547?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/1032295711085949547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=1032295711085949547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/1032295711085949547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/1032295711085949547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/02/matter-of-choice.html' title='A Matter of Choice'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-2196123121586361135</id><published>2009-02-22T13:19:00.003-10:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T13:29:11.759-10:00</updated><title type='text'>1999</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.patock.com/southernreg1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 985px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 330px" alt="" src="http://www.patock.com/southernreg1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This was orginially posted to my Facebook, borrowed or stolen from my friend Kate. It’s certainly more expaned here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the summary of my senior year in high school. For those who knew me then, you will find it amusing and full of good memories. For those who didn’t know me then, it might give you a better picture of where I came from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Knowing where you come from is as important as knowing where you are going.”&lt;br /&gt;Did you date someone from your school? No, I didn’t really date a lot in high school. I was obsessed with my friends. The boys in my group were the only ones I would have considered dating. We were such a tigh group of friends that dating would have just made things weird. Just ask Emily and Mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you marry someone from your high school?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; No. For those of you who know me, I’m sure you can think of the one person from high school I wouldn’t mind marrying. Too bad he now lives on the other side of country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you car pool to school?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; No – that’s part of the charm of South Jersey – hanging out in parking lots. To get the most out of that expereince, you had to have your own ride. Car-pooling didn’t make it as cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What kind of car did you have?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; 96’ Purple Chevy Caviler that I bought from a friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What kind do you have now?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; 07’ Jeep Compass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Its Friday night..where were you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I spent a lot of Friday nights at Mark’s house. Of course in the land of diners, we were usually on our way over the bridge for some late night grilled cheese and tomatoes! You can't get more Jersey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;It is Friday night...where are you now?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; At happy hour with friends, desperately seeking Mr. Right Now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What kind of job did you have in high school?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Growing up on LBI, the only real job anyone could have was a summer job – and there were plenty of them. I worked at a local tee-shirt shop owned by a close family friend. I spent many hours with the stero cranked up sizing racks of LBI shirts or outside working on my tan. I should have used the time to read some books, but I always found better things to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What kind of job do you have now?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I’ve been a corporate recruiter for a weight loss company for the past three years. I recently got promoted to HR Manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Were you a party animal?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Heck no – but I made up for that in college. I was friends with too many “goodie” kids to be a party animal, but we made our own fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you play any sports?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Varsity soccer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; 7th grade drop out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Were you a nerd?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I certainly wasn’t a nerd, I didn’t always have my head stuck in books and I always had friends to hang around with. I stuck close to my good friend Nora my senior year. I had a lot of friends that didn’t go to my high school. I was certainly more popular in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can you sing the fight song?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; With all the football games I attended, I have no clue what the fight song is. I’m not even sure we have a chant. Needless to say, I didn’t go to the games for the football, but it was the place to see and be seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Mr. Jim McCabe because he was a normal person. He was our theater teacher, aren’t they always the best? He did sometimes rub his beard in a kind of creepy way, but everyone forgave him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where did you sit during lunch?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I’m sure I sat at the same table every day, but almost 10 years later, I have no idea where that was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What was your school's full name?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Sounthern Regional High School&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;When did you graduate?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; June 1999&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you could go back and do it again, would you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I would go back if I could take the knoweldge and expereince I have gained since. Maybe 10 years isn’t that much life expereinces, but through college, being in a sorority, completing gradudate school and spending 3+ years in the “real world” you certainly learn some things. High school was an amazing coming of age story but I’m not certain that returning now it would be that great. I think I would be much more cautious and less likely to wear my heart on my sleeve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you could go back and do it again, what would you change?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I would have purchased a flat iron and I would not experminted so much with my hair. I would have held on tigher to the friends that really mattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Did you have fun at Prom?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Of course, I didn’t spend the night crying in the girl’s bathroom. We dropped our case of beer in the street on our way to prom. We didn’t rent a limo, I drove. I was co-chairman of the prom committee and we showed up late, smelling of beer. My date didn’t go to my high school. I had to wait in line for pictures. My date fell asleep in the backseat on the way home. We saw Austin Powers the next day. My date was the only one who was awake through the whole movie. I guess his nap was helpful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do you talk to the person you went to Prom with?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I don’t talk to him everyday but he’s a great guy. If I needed him, I think he’d totally be there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Are you planning on going to your next reunion?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; 10 years – why the heck not? I’m somewhat successful, I’d like to show that off. I went to college out of state which really hurt my high school friendships following graduation. I’d like to see everyone again, meeting spouses, kids, etc. It will be an exciting time. I’d love to see who is still holding a grudge against me too. It’s been 10 years – GET OVER IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do you still talk to people from high school?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Thanks to facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What are some of your favorite memories?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parking spot right next to Nora Cunningham&lt;br /&gt;My 18th birthday party at Mark’s house – first time I bought a lottery ticket&lt;br /&gt;Visiting Ron on his boat&lt;br /&gt;Following Mark and Emily into “the field”&lt;br /&gt;Our mission trip&lt;br /&gt;Away games&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-2196123121586361135?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/2196123121586361135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=2196123121586361135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2196123121586361135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2196123121586361135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/02/1999.html' title='1999'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-6164687066525929720</id><published>2009-02-13T16:15:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T16:25:22.539-10:00</updated><title type='text'>One Stop Blog Boutique</title><content type='html'>I’m sure you have heard of the Style Network’s homegrown reality series Peter Perfect, featuring style guru Peter Ishkhans. For those of you scratching your head, here’s the high level synopsis: it’s a business/image makeover show. I understand that reality shows are the heart and soul of American TV land, but this concept of a business/image makeover show – haven’t we made over enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s recap – we have: &lt;a href="http://mommylife.net/Stacy-and-Clinton-with-Curt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 211px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px" alt="" src="http://mommylife.net/Stacy-and-Clinton-with-Curt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What Not to Wear (can’t get enough of Stacy and Clinton)&lt;br /&gt;How Do I Look (hosted by Blossom’s stepmother)&lt;br /&gt;Queen Eye, formerly Queen Eye for the Straight Guy (so popular it changed names)&lt;br /&gt;The Swan and Extreme Makeover (a way to promote plastic surgery in the US)&lt;br /&gt;Extreme Makeover – Home Edition (hosted by former Trading Spaces carpenter Ty Pennington)&lt;br /&gt;We Mean Business (like we didn’t get enough of Bill Rancic on The Apprentice)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the newest edition – Peter Perfect. Peter Ishkhans, a British American reality star (sound like another else…), consider a Hollywood stylist to the stars, in 2007 opened Peter Ishkhans at Joseph Martin Salon in Beverly Hills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not saying that Peter Ishkhans isn’t a valid reality star; he’s a great character – kind of like a mini Sergeant Pepper (okay so I stole that image from a business owner who appeared on his show last week), but it’s a really good mental image. One would assume that Sergeant Pepper would have a reality show about running his salon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 461px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.tollbooth.org/2007/features/theBeatles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Come on, that is a receipt for success when it comes to reality TV. Those of you who remember Blow Out on BRAVO know what I’m talking about. Jonathan Antin is a big a character as Peter Ishkhans – can’t get enough of that dude! “Ya know what I mean, chick?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what crazy network executive came up with the bright idea that Sergeant Pepper should have a reality show where he breezes into town in a stretch limo, gray suit, cobalt blue shirt, bring pink tie, two inch rolled pant cuffs and brown high heel boots? Pepper is an image consultant who believes that if you change your image you change your life. Great speech Pepper, but can you deliver? &lt;a href="http://www.tvsa.co.za/blogimages/thestylenetwork_peter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 174px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 333px" alt="" src="http://www.tvsa.co.za/blogimages/thestylenetwork_peter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the most recent season, Pepper seems to turn every struggling business into a One Stop __________ Boutique. Let’s turn the world of retail into a One Stop __________ Boutique. You know that everyone needs to utilize a One Stop Party Boutique, a One Stop Sprit Boutique, a One Stop Auto Boutique and a One Stop Coffee Boutique every day! If it’s one stop, why do I have to do to 5 different places?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that’s Peter Perfect!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-6164687066525929720?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/6164687066525929720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=6164687066525929720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6164687066525929720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6164687066525929720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/02/one-stop-blog-boutique.html' title='One Stop Blog Boutique'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-2577235842402789918</id><published>2009-02-04T15:01:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T15:02:56.625-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Latex Toys</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SYo6uJ41kmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/5uIGkMMbe6k/s1600-h/Presley+and+Ellie+021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299112476157514338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SYo6uJ41kmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/5uIGkMMbe6k/s320/Presley+and+Ellie+021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ellie, who can be often times found half out of her sweater, has an OCD obsession with 3 latex dog toys. 1 pig, 1 fish and 1 chicken. On any given day, she can be seen carrying any of them or all of them in her mouth. Each latex toy has a built in squeaker that Ellie can control by clamping down causing air to be released from the small hole at the pig, chicken and fish butt. Those of you who have dogs can understand the high pitch frequency those squeakers can cause. It’s like an SSSUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAKK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pig and fish were a gift to my dogs from my small neighbor, one for each them. Presley quickly realized that she is not a fan of latex toys and opted to not play it. She much more enjoys a soft and floppy toy that she can pull apart and eat the stuffing. Ellie adopted the pig into her family of latex toys. I’m not sure where we got the chicken, but you’d think that having a pig and fish would be enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie used to strongly favor the pig. She is able to fit her whole mouth around it’s belly and has pretty much worn it thin. You can see a clear difference in coloring between the head and butt of the pig and it’s belly. More recently, she started carrying around the fish more. Squeaking it, throwing it in the air, chasing it. Let’s discussing chasing it. When it comes to any of Ellie’s latex toys, she takes on an almost retriever like quality. Ellie has no problem dropping her latex of choice at your feet, sit, stare, stretch, tap and eventually groan for you to throw it. You try to postpone reaching down to throw this toy for as long as possible, but sooner or later you get tired of listening to the groaning and give it; exactly according to her plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fish works best because you can grab it by the tail, shake it a few times, make it squeak a bit and throw it as hard as you can across the house. It’s times like these that I wish my house was longer. It would take Ellie longer to retrieve it, return it and wait for a repeat. This retrieve, return, throw and repeat is an endless pattern that I must endure for hours and hours, day and night.&lt;br /&gt;I’m thankful that Ellie doesn’t bring her latex to bed, but don’t you know, first thing in the morning, after a good long stretch, she is right out the bedroom door and right to the latex – never fails; no matter where she leaves it, she remembers, finds it, and brings it right to your feet, even if those feet are on the bathroom floor, while your drying your hair. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-2577235842402789918?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/2577235842402789918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=2577235842402789918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2577235842402789918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2577235842402789918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/02/latex-toys.html' title='Latex Toys'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SYo6uJ41kmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/5uIGkMMbe6k/s72-c/Presley+and+Ellie+021.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8691175608049737814</id><published>2009-01-27T14:50:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T14:55:47.565-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Joint Custody</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.officemachinerental.com/images/chairs/138-3809_IMG.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve been living with my roommate for 3 years. It’s a townhouse, that my roommate owns, from which I rent my bedroom, access to the garage, kitchen, living room, bathroom (both a full and a ½), coat closet, appliances (both kitchen and laundry) and the desk top computer in our “office” (which is really a guest room, since neither of us work out of that room).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her computer, a DELL (“dude, you’re getting a dell”…what happened to that guy?), has to be one of the slowest computers in the history of computers. Yes, this is the same roommate who has a “stereo” that is really a boombox without an AUX jack. Why would I think she would have a modern computer? We have been though all kinds of Internet providers, Verizon, Comcast, back to Verizon; whoever has the best deal where we can lock in at a discount price for the first 6 months. I used to blame the slowness of the computer on the Internet provider – right, like that isn’t your first instinct too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months ago, amongst our never ending game of switch the provider we got wireless Internet, under the advisement of the customer service rep that said wireless Internet has a higher connection speed. Why would we get &lt;a href="http://www.propmeupprops.com/photos/furniture/red-white-chair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 259px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 668px" alt="" src="http://www.propmeupprops.com/photos/furniture/red-white-chair.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;wireless Internet with a freaking desktop computer? My roommate decided that wireless was a good idea. So we dusted off my laptop and started surfing the net from the living room. I was in favor of this new computing option because the ice cream chair (that is apparently the official name for the style of chair) used at the desk in our “office” is one of the most uncomfortable chairs I have ever rested by butt on. I believe computing is more enjoyable when you are sitting in a comfy chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never in my wildest dreams did I believe that my roommate would become obsessed with computing. She can spend hours on her day off on the computer. Not playing games, not updating her Facebook status, not IMing friends, not downloading music. What does she do? She reads blogs. Blogs written by total strangers. She is one of those grass is always greener people; always looking that what everyone else has, is doing or saying is better than what she has, is doing or saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all intensive purposes, we share this computer; but I’m the owner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what? When I get the computer, only on the days when she is working until 11pm, I update my blog, change my Facebook status, find friends, etc. Today, I made a comment to my friend Katie about following her blog and her not returning the favor (by made a comment I mean wrote on her wall). I came home from work today, with the intention of updating my blog – mostly to see if my friend has taken me up on my offer to follow the blog. I opened my laptop and WHAM – a new wallpaper - my face side-by-side my roommate’s face; a picture from a vacation we took a few years ago. Not the baby Presley wallpaper I was expecting! Not really a great picture to boot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joint: united, joined or sharing with another.&lt;br /&gt;Custody: immediate charge and control exercised by a person or authority&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296140739475467666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SX-r8UDo7ZI/AAAAAAAAACw/vKiys9x0jqo/s320/Wald+Disney+World+009.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8691175608049737814?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8691175608049737814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8691175608049737814' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8691175608049737814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8691175608049737814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/01/joint-custody.html' title='Joint Custody'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SX-r8UDo7ZI/AAAAAAAAACw/vKiys9x0jqo/s72-c/Wald+Disney+World+009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-3737542529951898846</id><published>2009-01-20T14:43:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T14:48:47.866-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The three-legged limp</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SXZwYCwCNSI/AAAAAAAAABw/evf240WWyrY/s1600-h/105_0593.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293541970378110242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SXZwYCwCNSI/AAAAAAAAABw/evf240WWyrY/s320/105_0593.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Winter, rain, cold, and snow - these are words that my dog, Presley, fully understands. You even begin a sentence or section of a sentence with an “s” and Presley already knows what lies ahead of her. I always thought that dogs had a small brain, had hard times remembering things from day to day, week to week. Winter is only a few months long, it only happens once a year, but she remembers, year after year. There have even been a winter or two in her short life where the snowfall was so minimal that I harder remember it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presley has never been a fan of the snow. Maybe it has to do with the first winter I had her. I bought Presley from a very strange lady in late January 2006, one week after my 25th birthday. Two weeks following, Presley met a rather large snowfall face first – literately. It’s not easy to house train a puppy, those of you who have done it can vouch for that. A good master lets a puppy out every few hours for the first few weeks or months of ownership, teaching him or her where to go to the bathroom. In our case, it was in our front yard. Presley was so tiny that I didn’t get her a collar or leash for several weeks; even I can out run a 10-week-old puppy. Anyway, back to that second week of life in the Minto house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was by Baltimore standards a major snowstorm. As a native of upstate New York, having lived several young years in upstate Maine (any by upstate I mean 1 hour past the end of I-95) and many formative years in south Jersey, I have a very different concept of a major snowstorm. But in Baltimore, things were pretty much shut down. I guess I was happy to have the luxury of spending the day in my pajamas with my new puppy; we can call that bonding. Presley had to go outside, as all puppies do so I opened the door and out she ran, face first into the 8-inch snowdrift that had formed on the opposite side of our front door. BAM – face full of snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, three short years later, Presley is much more cautious and aware of the white, ice cold, &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SXZwjoy7OlI/AAAAAAAAAB4/8xpmU6WXGfM/s1600-h/presleybigface.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;solid precipitation that can be found falling from the sky or gathered on the ground. Presley &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SXZwzWeLaGI/AAAAAAAAACA/xaNyWRS4RiA/s1600-h/presleytounge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293542439528392802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 97px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SXZwzWeLaGI/AAAAAAAAACA/xaNyWRS4RiA/s320/presleytounge.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;typically will hold her bathroom breaks for days if needed, just to avoid the snow. There have &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SXZwCTXa41I/AAAAAAAAABo/jCBpm5qrJOM/s1600-h/sleepingonelvis.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;been many times when she hasn’t even made it off the front stoop; but when she does, she does a three-legged limp. Her paws get so cold from the sidewalk, snow and ice, that she lifts them up, often times forgetting that she needs them to stand on. Last night, she had enough guts to lift up three legs, standing still, teetering on just one freeze cold paw. Cute as a button, shivering like a leaf, scared like she had made a bad decision. She growls, I scoop her up, she licks my nose and we head home. I had to do all the walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How many more days of winter? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-3737542529951898846?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/3737542529951898846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=3737542529951898846' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/3737542529951898846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/3737542529951898846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/01/three-legged-limp.html' title='The three-legged limp'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SXZwYCwCNSI/AAAAAAAAABw/evf240WWyrY/s72-c/105_0593.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8840802777406371295</id><published>2009-01-18T16:14:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T16:18:59.116-10:00</updated><title type='text'>BoomBox…ever heard of one?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://weblogs.newsday.com/sports/watchdog/blog/enews_Party_Hat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 374px" alt="" src="http://weblogs.newsday.com/sports/watchdog/blog/enews_Party_Hat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I’m in the middle of planning my 28th birthday party – a simple and sophisticated gathering at my house with a bunch of A-listers! As I’m thinking of what to drink (Miller Lite and Corona), what to eat (another question entirely) and what to do to keep the party the event of the year – I thought MUSIC! I like to consider myself a music lover, I have so many songs from so many different eras, genres and artists…I figured there will be something for everyone; not to mention my roommates recent obsession with Akon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew that I need to do some work on ITunes, getting new songs, adding and changing playlists, removing those sappy love songs that remind me of past relationships that I like to turn up loud and sing along to on long car rides (you know what songs I’m talking about). I knew also that I would need to review the stereo situation, making sure I had the required wires. It’s not my stereo; it’s my roommate’s. She has the main component hidden in the bottom cabinet of our TV armoire, with two speakers on either side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I grew up with a stereo. My dad was a big music guy. He loved to crank it up, playing random songs to which he loved to sing along. I’m not certain that any of his neighbors loved his taste. His stereo even had a 6 disc CD changer. The CD changer was one of those book like things were you load the CDs and then insert into the stereo. Not to mention the two full size detected speakers – of course they were wired to main the component meaning you could only place them next to the main component without running yards of wire all over the house. It is by no means cutting edge for 2008 – but in the mid 90’s it was a large and impressive piece of audio equipment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my roommates “stereo” – we do not listen to it often, maybe once and awhile we have played the radio, but mostly it remains in off mode and tucked away behind the cabinet door. I was excited to realize it was there so I could use it at my party. My intention was to buy an AUX cable (I didn’t know what that was until after this story unfolds) and connect it where the headphones would connect. BOY am I glad I didn’t do that. After further conversation with my AV guy (yes, I have one), it was decided that the headphones jack is not an AUX jack. That was certainly the best way to connect my Ipod to my stereo, but I needed to find the AUX jack. My AV guy was certain the AUX jack, if not in the front of the stereo, it would be in the back. After a trip to BestBuy at lunch, it was decided that I should look at the stereo before making a $14.99 purchase of an AUX cable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I failed to mention until now is that this “stereo” is not a stereo, at least not to the stereo standards that I am accustomed to. It is a freak’n boombox! A boombox?!?! Okay, so a boombox, now that we are over the shock of that, my roommate tells me that this boombox will also be celebrating a birthday – it’s 28th birthday! My roommate has had this boombox since she was in like the 8th grade. She graduated high school in 1999 – you do the math. &lt;a href="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0789311992.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 343px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px" alt="" src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0789311992.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bottom line is, after further inspection following the advice of my AV guy, I found out that this stereo is so old it doesn’t even have an AUX jack. Not anywhere on the box is there an AUX jack. There is no way for me to connect my Ipod to the boombox to play great playlists at my party. Maybe I’ll make a mix tape as a party favor. Oh yeah…the boombox has a dual tape deck. That will make recording the mix tape making go even faster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8840802777406371295?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8840802777406371295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8840802777406371295' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8840802777406371295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8840802777406371295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/01/boomboxever-heard-of-one.html' title='BoomBox…ever heard of one?'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-6011948492202131042</id><published>2009-01-01T14:42:00.001-10:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T14:54:28.504-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Year in Review</title><content type='html'>Each year, TIME magazine puts together a full-length edition displaying images, text and memories as we move from one year to the next. Here is a recap of 5 of my favorite news stories from 2008; however my words are not as good as the real thing. If you can still find it on newsstands, pick it up. If for not any other reason than just to have it – 2008 was a historical year and you should want something to remember it by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The meltdown – “firms that seemed sturdy pillars of the nation’s wealth were exposed as hollow shells and trillions of dollars of American’s wealth went up in smoke in a stock market meltdown” (TIME). &lt;a href="http://www.diversityjobs.com/files/images/le_floor_de_Wall_street.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 293px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px" alt="" src="http://www.diversityjobs.com/files/images/le_floor_de_Wall_street.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An image in TIME showed a young woman joined in the protest on Wall Street on Sept 25th holding a sign, “I’ve got a 4.0 GPA, $90,000 in debt &amp;amp; No Job. Where’s My Bail Out?” American’s were paying the highest gas prices in my lifetime, losing their jobs on Wall Street as famous US companies entered into Chapter 11, while declaring Chapter 11 themselves because they couldn’t pay their sub-prime mortgage. Just this week we learned that a former top executive from Merrill-Lynch, who was only employed for 4 weeks prior to the meltdown took a $25-million payout and purchased a $35-million apartment in New York City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What’s next? How will American recover? Can American recover? Will we rise again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Rock Star vs. Old White-haired Guy – an election that made history, both in the cast of &lt;a href="http://blogs.e-rockford.com/applesauce/files/2008/05/stock_democrat-republican.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://blogs.e-rockford.com/applesauce/files/2008/05/stock_democrat-republican.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;characters, the media criticism and the voting turnout. Can President-elect Obama fulfill his campaign promises? Does he have the leadership to rebuild this nation, to concur and overcome the economic crisis? Will he put American’s back to work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pointed to a picture of Barack Obama and asked my 7 year old niece if she knew who he was. She said “that is Borock Bobmma and he is the President.” I pointed to John McCain, asking the same question. Her response “that is John McLame, the guy that tried to be President but lost”. I couldn’t have summed it up better. Borock Bobmma and John McLame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://a.abcnews.com/images/US/ap_zion_ranch_080417_mn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px" alt="" src="http://a.abcnews.com/images/US/ap_zion_ranch_080417_mn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;3. Yearning for Zion – Texas state authorities raided the compound, which is part of the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints, taking over 400 children into protective custody. TIME writer Hilary Hylton wrote “the state is not saying ‘Don’t wear those dresses’. It is saying you can’t have sex with 11-year olds”. The state of Texas later released the children back into their mother’s care, who ultimately returned to the Yearning for Zion ranch and their polygamist families.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Michael Phelps and the Beijing Olympics – The tone of the Olympic games was set with the split second underwater shot of Phelps reaching the wall first over Serbia swimmer Milorad Cavic. It was clear at that moment that Phelps’ dream of winning 7 gold metals in a combination of 7 team and individual races was going to become a reality. &lt;a href="http://www.coinnews.net/wp-content/images/2008/10-Kilo-Beijing-Olympic-Games-Gold-Coin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://www.coinnews.net/wp-content/images/2008/10-Kilo-Beijing-Olympic-Games-Gold-Coin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much inline with the political figures, I pointed to Michael Phelps and asked my niece who he was. She said “hum, that’s the guy who won 7 gold metals. I don’t remember his name.” I said “Michael Phelps”. She said “oh yeah, Michael Felts.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. The fall of another – Eliot Spitzer was not a common name in much of the country prior to 2008, mostly due to his very public sex scandal. I’m not convinced that even following the negative press, many American’s even remember his name in light of all the other news of 2008. I thought his “fame” was worth mentioning. I’m sure it is a moment that he will never forget, despite if the rest of us remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to the news coverage of 2008 as reviewed in TIME’s The Year in Review – they list milestones, celebrating the life and work of those who pasted in 2008. Again, I have pulled my favorites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim Russert, 1950-2008&lt;br /&gt;Paul Newman, 1925 – 2008&lt;br /&gt;Jesse Helms, 1921 – 2008&lt;br /&gt;George Carlin, 1937 – 2008&lt;br /&gt;Charlton Heston, 1923 – 2008&lt;br /&gt;Heath Ledger, 1979 – 2008&lt;br /&gt;Bernie Mac, 1957 – 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The most important milestone to me was not covered by TIME; the untimely and unexpected passing of Elizabeth “Betty” Dittler (1925 – 2008), my grandmother. She passed away on August 8th following a short illness. She was survived by her husband, Harry, two daughters, Kathy and Dottie and two grandchildren, David and Amanda. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SV1jWvrokxI/AAAAAAAAABg/npI1Pis745s/s1600-h/Kaydee+decided+to+help.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286490780010582802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SV1jWvrokxI/AAAAAAAAABg/npI1Pis745s/s320/Kaydee+decided+to+help.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As my mother planned the memorial service, she asked for refreshments for about 25 people – every church pew was filled with over 65 people who took time to celebrate the life of Betty. She is missed everyday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We love you Betty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-6011948492202131042?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/6011948492202131042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=6011948492202131042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6011948492202131042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/6011948492202131042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2009/01/year-in-review.html' title='The Year in Review'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SV1jWvrokxI/AAAAAAAAABg/npI1Pis745s/s72-c/Kaydee+decided+to+help.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-2255748326900412676</id><published>2008-12-11T14:44:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T14:59:55.491-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it humane?  Is it right?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.mondotees.com/ProductImages/bangonicons/fist.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 308px" alt="" src="http://www.mondotees.com/ProductImages/bangonicons/fist.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yesterday was International Human Rights Day, focusing this year’s polite protest on human rights for gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender people worldwide- also known as A Day without Gay (&lt;a href="http://daywithoutgay.org/"&gt;http://daywithoutgay.org/&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People were encouraged to call into work “gay” (my roommate didn’t understand this – I had to explain that people via being gay as a sickness; you call into work sick, why not call into work gay – to make a statement. I’m not sure my explanation opened her eyes) and to boycott from spending money for 24 hours, as the GLBT community contributes $700 billion dollars to the economy each year. What do they buy? Some might say they buy drugs, hot fashion accessories, sex. I believe they buy morning lattes and newspapers, lunch for high-powered business associates and dog food – just like you. You see that’s the point people – they are just like you. Not second class citizens without lifeboats on a sinking Titanic; not less deserving of basic human rights, like the right to marry. You have the freedom to fall in love, have a wedding, create a family, build a life – why shouldn’t they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The state of Arkansas recently passed a law prohibiting unwed couples and single people from adopting or foster parenting a child. What’s the reason a child is up for adoption or in foster care? Neglect… abuse… unwanted… abandoned… Why can’t an unwed lesbian couple foster parent and later adopt one of those children, into a loving, caring and safe home? What makes a straight, married couple more suitable parents for a neglected, unwanted, abused and abandoned child? That is something I will never understand. Was Arkansas the trail-blazing state for such legislation in other states? Or will Arkansas stand alone? Maybe a few years ago you would have thought that Arkansas’ decision would leave them without a date for prom and I would have agreed. But California’s statewide vote on November 4th (the same day the United States of America elected our first African-American President) proved the spirit and belief of the GLBT community as second-class citizens is still very much a reality in this country. It’s a share that such a historical day for one community is also such a sorrowful day for another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Advocate (www.advocate.com) published not only a story comparing Gay Rights to Civil Rights, but designed a groundbreaking cover – Gay is the new Black. It’s a powerful story, not in any way indicating that gay rights will replace, surpass or override the struggle of African-Americans in this country; but the civil rights movement was a war won by African-Americans when the Civil Rights Bill was signed into law in 1964. Where is the Gay Rights Bill? That is the point of the Advocate message. The time has come for members of the GLBT community to receive the same basic human and civil rights as others; black, white, male, female, Asian, Latino (my apologies for not including everyone, but you’d be reading for days).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom Line – Since they are just like you, how come the laws, the morals, the churches, the judges and the employers don’t recognize it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Join the Impact – 1 Million for Equality (&lt;a href="http://jointheimpact.com/"&gt;http://jointheimpact.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-2255748326900412676?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/2255748326900412676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=2255748326900412676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2255748326900412676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2255748326900412676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2008/12/yesterday-was-international-human.html' title='Is it humane?  Is it right?'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8480069017904084124</id><published>2008-11-25T12:00:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T12:01:43.337-10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Retired After Hard Work, 2. Aspen Trees, 3. Moon / Luna, 4. happiness is a warm puppy (and a handful of them is even better), 5. jumping all night long...day 26 / year 2, 6. Long Island Iced Tea, 7. Entering Hyperspace, 8. In Her Shoes, 9. St. Elvis vanilla cupcakes with lemony buttercream!, 10. Timeless Beauty, 11. Colours that were my joy ..., 12. Flight13&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8480069017904084124?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8480069017904084124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8480069017904084124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8480069017904084124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8480069017904084124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2008/11/retired-after-hard-work-2.html' title=''/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-22987665692270006</id><published>2008-11-13T14:54:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T15:05:47.688-10:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.kendall-group.com/images/bloggraphics/fog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 577px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px" alt="" src="http://www.kendall-group.com/images/bloggraphics/fog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Fog by definition is “vapor condensed to fine particles of water suspended in the lower atmosphere that differs from cloud only in being near the ground”; so essentially a cloud on the ground rather than in the sky – a cloud you can walk through rather than fly though; just a cloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nuuanu.k12.hi.us/G-1/public_html/websites/chelsea/images/zeus.gif"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 310px" alt="" src="http://www.nuuanu.k12.hi.us/G-1/public_html/websites/chelsea/images/zeus.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;The “weather gods” – Zeus and Anemoi, came together today in a perfect form of weather – the great fog of 2008. To pull a line from my late grandmother “I’ve never seen anything like that…in all my life”. When I say perfect weather, can you sense the sarcasm in my voice? The sarcasm defines perfect weather as bad or unpleasant weather that only occurs during non-working hours and enjoyable weather that occurs during working hours. It’s like the perfect storm. Today was no different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was raining this morning when I walked my dogs. It stopped as I pulled into my parking space. It was raining when I went to lunch. It stopped as I pulled into my parking space. For the last hour of work all I heard about was this intense fog. INTENSE fog. Of course, just in time for the evening commute; not that I have a very long or difficult commute, but still, just in time. The fog was so thick that I could bear see my hand in front of my face, or the road I was attempting to drive on. SO THICK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Modern cars have “fog lights”, I guess they did some &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jeep.com/shared/2008/compass/safety_security/images/safe_light_foglamps.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 254px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px" alt="" src="http://www.jeep.com/shared/2008/compass/safety_security/images/safe_light_foglamps.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;research that headlights gave insufficient lighting in foggy conditions. Why not add fog lights – designed specifically for foggy conditions. It makes sense, like intermittent windshield wipers (thanks Robert Kearns). I suppose I’m lucky enough to have fog lamps (as they are called in twenty 08) standard on my Jeep, at least I thought I was lucky enough. Not that I don’t think fog lamps make my Jeep look awesome – either on or off. So tonight, I lost my fog lamp virginity! I pulled the lever that controls my headlights and WHAM – fog lamps! I really thought I was going to be able to see for miles, go speeding by all the other suckers without fog lamps – NOPE! They didn’t do anything – not a thing. I didn’t see anything more; nothing was clearer, brighter or easier. It was still just as hard to drive home, even with my standard fog lamps. The only saving grace in this whole story is I didn’t pay extra from my fog lamps!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-22987665692270006?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/22987665692270006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=22987665692270006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/22987665692270006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/22987665692270006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2008/11/fog.html' title='The Fog'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8738374985419933244</id><published>2008-11-09T11:50:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T12:26:28.538-10:00</updated><title type='text'>"the change we need"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdjbYAMRDI/AAAAAAAAABI/h021sATM7IE/s1600-h/obama1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266787611183957042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdjbYAMRDI/AAAAAAAAABI/h021sATM7IE/s320/obama1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;November 4th, 2008 - it was historical, it was a day of firsts and it was a day of major change. I don't believe it was just about republic vs. democrat or McCain vs. Obama, but it was about same vs. new, status quo vs. change. It was an election that the world will remember for the rest of time, it was the day when America made a historical choice, against such a strong history of discrimination and status quo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm not sure who really was the best candidate, who told more acceptable lies or who developed the best plan for this great nation, but I know that it was historical and a great moment in American history. A moment that many Americans never thought was possible. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Over the past week there has been a lot of media; bashing Sarah Palin for her outlandish spending, McCain saying Palin wasn't his ideal choice and blaming her for his loss. Others critical of Obama's plan for the 4 years, fearing higher taxes, less small businesses and the concept of "socialism". It's hard to say who is right and wrong and more so why. It was a race, there had to be a winning side and a lossing side - it was impossible to make everyone happy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;The Amercian people have spoken, the ballots are in and counted and the winner was announced. The question now is can American get behind President-elect Obama? Clearly this election divided the country, can we come together now, in the aftermath, as one nation, standing behind the leader who was elected? If not - why hold elections? Why allow for votes to be cast, debates to be had, and people to choose? Why not have it directed to us, without our input? I understand that people are scared for the future, it's a scary time, there are a lot of unknowns, but I believe that any new leader has to overcome challenges left in his seat. It is fair to make a decision about President-elect Obama without even seeing what he can do, how he wants to do it and what change he will bring about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;If we can't come together, as one nation, we will surely fail. That failure however will not be the failure of President Obama but of America. Right or wrong, happy or unhappy, he deserves the support and paryers of all Americans. The road will be long, bummy and uncertain, the only way we as a country can get to the end, is by riding on the same bus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRditBcXmVI/AAAAAAAAABA/PWUrPuRQZcc/s1600-h/Obama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266786814854142290" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 138px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRditBcXmVI/AAAAAAAAABA/PWUrPuRQZcc/s400/Obama.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Join me, as I celebrate my 28th birthday and the Inauguration of the 44th President of the United States of American on Jan 20, 2009 in our nations capital.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8738374985419933244?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8738374985419933244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8738374985419933244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8738374985419933244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8738374985419933244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2008/11/change-we-need.html' title='&quot;the change we need&quot;'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdjbYAMRDI/AAAAAAAAABI/h021sATM7IE/s72-c/obama1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-8755666359594282216</id><published>2008-10-18T14:30:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T12:29:32.077-10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><title type='text'>Halloween the New Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdj8GX2oZI/AAAAAAAAABQ/FyB1-V_tIQQ/s1600-h/halloween+2008+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266788173387047314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdj8GX2oZI/AAAAAAAAABQ/FyB1-V_tIQQ/s320/halloween+2008+006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Really people, do we have to treat Halloween like Christmas and put out lights WEEKS before? Weeks, not days or day of (I'm down with a few cob webs, creapy things on the lawn, random lights) but not weeks before. It's stupid and this is economy, just a waste of money. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;I heard on the radio today an accurate count of shopping days until Halloween....shopping days. Days left to get the best candy, because you know as well as I do, if you wait until 10/31 to get a bag of candy, you're house has a much higher chance of being egged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Halloween is 2008's economy stimulus, not gieco, not the extra tax refund you got in April - HALLOWEEN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Let's talk about those halloween shops that swoop into your local shopping center and are only around for 1 month. How does any commerical store lease for only 1 month. Christmas shops don't act this way, what about Easter shops? It's all for Halloween, is that even a holiday? Or maybe that a better holiday - everyone can participate in Halloween, except for those people who use the "against my religon" excuse for anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdkLpxxpgI/AAAAAAAAABY/oB2mQyHzMDU/s1600-h/halloween+2008+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266788440589051394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdkLpxxpgI/AAAAAAAAABY/oB2mQyHzMDU/s320/halloween+2008+009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;I'm guilty of buying cob webs for my front bushes and window clings...I don't even like Halloween. But at least I'm not putting it up until 10/30.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-8755666359594282216?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/8755666359594282216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=8755666359594282216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8755666359594282216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/8755666359594282216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween-new-christmas.html' title='Halloween the New Christmas'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SRdj8GX2oZI/AAAAAAAAABQ/FyB1-V_tIQQ/s72-c/halloween+2008+006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-2502919699472265390</id><published>2008-10-14T14:33:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T14:41:17.533-10:00</updated><title type='text'>tagged, by myself (thanks Bobbi)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;"&gt;1. What was I doing 10 years ago?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1998 - I was a senior in high school in New Jersey. I had bought my first car, was co-chairman of the prom committee where my biggest decision was picking colors! I had been accepted into the college and was just waiting out my remaining days as a Long Beach Island local.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2. 5 things I did today:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- got totally freaked out by a huge spider in my shower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- walked my dogs (twice)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- wasted time at work facebooking (is that a word)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- crunched some numbers (not my strongest skill so it took a while)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- helped Maureen McCormmick pay for a new skirt by buying her new book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;3. What snacks do I enjoy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Chips and fresh salsa (it's worth the extra money) and mini-snickers bars stashed in my desk drawer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;4. What I would do if I were suddenly a billionaire:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Go on a major shopping spree, not think about buying a house or saving for the future down fall of the economy. Get Presely a new sweater - something really nice and expensive, maybe cashmere (do they make dog clothes out of cashmere?). Pay off my student loans even though I'd waste my education because of my recent fast income.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;5. 3 bad habits:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- rather than trimming my finger nails, I trim the skin around my nails to the point of drawing blood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- leaving soda cans (mostly half full) all over the house, including at times in bathrooms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- i'm perfect, i can only think of two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;6. 5 jobs I've had:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- tee-shirt shop manager&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- waitress/bartender/manager&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- recruiter (not a time I love to talk about)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- hr manager (maybe that title is a bit inflated, but they keep telling me it's happening soon)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- dog walker - but I don't get paid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;7. 5 things people don't know about me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- i don't know how to drive a stick shift&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- i can't swim and i don't like to pretend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- i never saw Dinsey's Mulian (did anyone?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- i'm not emotionally ready to have a kid &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- i'm easily annoyed by others (yeah right, you knew that)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-2502919699472265390?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/2502919699472265390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=2502919699472265390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2502919699472265390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/2502919699472265390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2008/10/tagged-by-myself-thanks-bobbi.html' title='tagged, by myself (thanks Bobbi)'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8562378957848446469.post-756190316924890780</id><published>2008-10-13T13:27:00.000-10:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T14:42:41.503-10:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuel for thought...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I opened a savings account, not because I'm scared of the current state of the economy, not because I think things will only get worse in the US if McCain/Palin win the election, but to save money...for a scooter! No matter who wins the election, we will still depend on other nations for our gas supply right, why not plan ahead. I know what you're thinking - you don't own a home. I'm not thinking about home ownership. Why buy a home when I'm 100% happy with my current living situation. I don't plan on moving out of this house anytime soon, and in the event that Bobbie ties the knot, I don't think it's unreasonable to stay onboard as part of the family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;So back to the scooter - don't laugh. It's a solution to common problem. I live close to work, I care about the environment, not to mention, scooters are the coolest thing ever and the best way to travel locally. It's a bike, without the need to pedel - it's a bike for lazy people. Poke fun if you must, but I know you will be lining up for a free ride. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Purchasing the scooter isn't the largest cost, there are so many "special" things I'll need. Goggles, helmet, side-car for Presely...the list goes on and on. I understand that Maryland has no helmet law (at least for low power scooters) - if nothing else I like the idea of pulling up to a place, having the whole parking lot looking at you, and pulling off the helmet and letting my hair down. It's like a scene from a movie - staring ME!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Don't dude likes chicks with bikes? Do scooters count?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8562378957848446469-756190316924890780?l=abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/feeds/756190316924890780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8562378957848446469&amp;postID=756190316924890780' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/756190316924890780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8562378957848446469/posts/default/756190316924890780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abm-barkingmad.blogspot.com/2008/10/fuel-for-thought.html' title='Fuel for thought...'/><author><name>ABM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12656285868076436600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x8WSZ6xVBUs/SZyzdfa_IpI/AAAAAAAAADA/z7ClYKMwR4I/S220/2.2009+093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
