Sunday, November 29, 2009

A Flexible Ruler

It's not everyday you find something as useful as a tape measure wedged in the spoiler of your car, but yesterday just so happened to be my lucky day.

It's brand new too. Still had the tape on it protecting the battery life. That's right, I said battery. This little baby is equipped with an LED light, so you can really see what those numbers are.

Is it normal when you see a tape measure in your rear view mirror to immediately think it's some sort of tracking device, disguised as a tape measure? So dumb, I thought. Like I wouldn't take it off my car and use it... Omg! Maybe it's a recording device. But that's stupid too because how well could it pick up sound in my tool drawer? Not very! Whoever left this is a terrible spy.

Then it dawned on me, it's probably just a tape measure. I'd be disappointed if tape measures weren't so handy.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


Happy Thanksgiving eve my little sweet potatoes! The Boss Man (reluctantly) signed my PTO for Friday, which means four day weekend for this girl. Ow ow!

My crew is in town for the holiday, which means dancing the night away tonight. My wish this thanksgiving is that everyone could be so fortunate as to have their besties in town for boozing, dancing and showing off new shoes. Cause it really doesn't get any better than that.

Then over the river and through the woods tomorrow to Susie and Ray's for turkey and noodles. Can't wait!

To celebrate, please enjoy this massively addictive Kid Cudi song, Make Her Say. Because we all need a jam we dance to! (And the video is fun too.)

Count your blessings and pass the pumpkin pie on over this way!

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Who Feels Like A Crying Jag?

The old man, always in a plain black or white t-shirt.

Because I was raised by Ray Daugherty, who thinks of himself as a lone, austere cowboy in our little blue-collar neighborhood in Indiana, I wasn't allowed to cry.

If something was about to go down where I might want to cry - like, ohhh the time I had to have my broken ankle reset or the time I thought my cat had been murdered - he'd say or do something to the effect of, "Don't cry now. You're tough. Nothing you can't handle." Or, if he was the one making me cry, it was more to the effective of, "NOW GOD DAMNIT, DON'T YOU CRY!"

Obviously I was raised by a very sensitive man who is super in touch with his emotions.

In three decades I've seen him shed one tear, and that was at my great uncle's funeral. It stunned me so deeply I went into complete hysterics, convinced the whole damn world was coming to an end. I think I cried for about three hours after that.

Whenever I'd get injured as a teenager and would be bleeding or whatever, he'd minimize the event by holding up my bleeding hand and saying something really sweet like, "If I hold it up to the light I can almost see where it's cut!"

Real funny. He's grouchy and stubborn and difficult, but he's also very funny, protective and sweet. Probably like all dads, I imagine.

I'm remembering all this because earlier today my mom and I were talking on the phone and she told me she'd been feeling kind of low all day, which is unusual because my mom is a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of person.

"Well mom, you know we're not allowed to cry, right?"

"Yeah right," she laughed. "Did you know your dad used to cry every night when you were going through cancer treatment. Every night, Gina. He was a mess."

Wow. Now why after seven years she'd choose to tell me this, I have no idea. But man, talk about shattering your visions of your dad. I always thought he was the rock. (Apparently we are our own rocks.)

Not to let a one-up slip past me, and for all those years of him yelling at me to toughen up, and because that's just the way I was raised, I have her put my dad on the phone so I can rub it in a little.

"Hi Pap, yeah, I'm fine. Sooo, mom just told me you used to cry like a big baby when I was sick. Ha. What's up with that, tough guy."

So he says, "She said I cried? Ha. I never cried. I knew the whole time you were gonna be ok. You're a Daugherty, right?"

Then he paused for effect and added, "Besides, I'll punch you out, little girl."

Ahh, now there's the sweet ol' dad I know and love.

I would like to point out that in spite of his best efforts, I turned out human anyway.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Come On, Rogue

Holy Shiggity, y'all. Sarah Palin brought her special brand of crazy to Joseph Beth today. As with all things Palin, the likelihood of batshit insanity is certain. (I hope Levi showed up, shirtless.)

Plus Nordstrom's The Rack is opening tonight, which means lookout Rookwood, it's designer pant-suit pandemonium Friday!

Meanwhile, please enjoy this hilarious Thanksgiving related Palin video.

TGIF my little Rogues!

Coincidence? Probably. Or Maybe Not.

The last two times I've been in Florida I've been lucky enough to stumble upon the shuttle launches.

The first in was March, when I watched the Space Shuttle Discovery launch from my hotel balcony in St. Pete's Beach.

Then on Monday I watched Space Shuttle Atlantis rocket into the clouds from my hotel pool in Orlando. (Wait. Did I say pool? What I meant was from a window at the American Heart Association conference. I certainly was not at the pool. I mean, I'm so obviously not tan, there was no way I was at the pool.)

The launches are extraordinary, full of awe and wonder. And no less so is seeing everyone around you silent and staring into the sky. Everyone just... stops.

I was 100 miles closer to this launch than I was in March, but still about 50 miles away. I'm getting closer. They're aren't many left. I feel like I should actually "plan" a trip to watch one, to feel the thunderous noise and shaking. How fun that would be.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Home Sweet Home

Just back from a work trip to Florida, and look what I came home to... leaves the same hue as my couch pillows. The planets have aligned.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

It's GO Time

I've decided to do the Jingle Bell Run this year. I did it a few years ago for my my sweet mama, who has Rheumatoid arthritis. I was pretty out of shape then, and I'd venture to guess I'm even more out of shape now.

Since my dude is all about making training calendars, I kindly asked him, in my sweetest voice possible, if he'd put me together a schedule.

"Yo, make me a Jingle Bell Run training calendar, will ya."

He gleefully agreed and began asking questions I wasn't quite prepared to answer, such as, "Can you run for five minutes?"

"God no. Why would I want to do that?" I said I as I popped some candy corn into my mouth.

"But you can run for 90 seconds, right?"

Good god. What does he want from me?

"Look buddy, I don't have to prove anything," I say. "I've already climbed my Everest, I survived cancer."

"Yeah. How long are you going to coast on that?"

Oooh. It's your funeral now, dude.

"I'm going to blog you said that and everyone is going to know what a douche canoe you are."

Haha. Douche canoe. Man that's hilarious.

"I'm going to name this training calendar 'Sack up, Daugherty.'"

Pause for effect so I can ask my next question real sweet sounding.

"You're going to do the race with me, right baby?"

"Of course."

"Good. I hope you fall down and I beat you."

"Ha. It'd be the only way you'd beat me."

Ooh burn. I don't say anything yet because I can't think of a comeback. Damn it.

"I'm done with your calendar. You're running three days a week. Don't be a candy ass about it."

"Oh yeah?! Well, don't be candy-ass when I push your ass down at the race and dust you!"

Hahahaha. Good one, Daugherty. Way to wait for it.

Then he ignored me, which really, really drives me crazy.

"Didn't you hear me?! I said, I'M GOING TO PUSH YOU DOWN AT THE RACE!"

More silence.


So, please join this happy little effort of ours on December 5. You know, if you like waking up early on Saturday mornings in the freezing December cold to run down the street.

And come on, who doesn't love that?

Friday, November 06, 2009

Party In The U.S.A. TGIF!

While we were all sitting on our asses on Sunday eating Chipotle and watching the NYC Marathon on the dvr (Ok, maybe that was just me), Meb Keflezighi was tearing. it. up.

The first American to win the New York City Marathon in... oh who cares, he won! Woo hoo!

2:09:15 - and look at the bling he got for it. Who knew Flavor Flav handed out the medals.

Congrats, Meb. You da man.


Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Journo-brawls Are Funny

Did you guys hear the one about the 68-year-old Washington Post Style editor letting one off on a staff writer, like straight-up punching him "right in his grill, like BLAM!"

Hahahaha! *wipes tears from eyes. But seriously folks... the Style desk? The Style desk. Really? So what you're saying is that your feature writin' ass just got dropped by the feature writin' editor, who's nearly 70... and a former Marine. *tears again. You can't write this shiggity.

I always did prefer my newsrooms Hemingway-esque, even though none of them were. (Though my first editor did go to detox after my third week. It was unrelated to me though. Probably.)

Anyway, happy retirement Henry Allen. No one will mistake you for going gently into that good night.

Oh yeah: Violence is wrong. I'm against it.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

A Certain Slant of Light

At exactly 6:16 p.m. on Monday, October 12, this angled ray of the setting sun filtered through the buildings of Clifton, into the Boss Man's conference room, through the very upper glass of the partition, past the potted tree, the printers and two more offices before it finally came to land in the row of empty desks just feet from where I sit.

A celestial occurrence this near to me is so rare that when I saw it, it stopped me in my tracks. (Not unlike a kitten getting stopped in a sunbeam.) So I did what I do, I took photos.

It was my very own office light sabre, for about seven minutes.

All this reminded me of course of the Emily Dickinson poem, "There's a certain slant of light."

Sunday, November 01, 2009

You Must Be My Lucky Star

I'm just back from a walk around the mean streets of Hyde Park where I noticed there are nearly as many fun sized candy wrappers on the ground as there are leaves.

Is it bad that I nearly picked up and ate an unopened fun sized pack of discarded Whoppers? I didn't think so either. The only thing that stopped me was that I stepped on it and squished them before I realized it wasn't empty. Sad.

Hope everyone had a fabulous Halloween! I dressed up as Madonna a-la Lucky Star, but really, in my head I am Madonna, so I'm not sure how much of a stretch it was for me.

My dance moves were super amazing too. I might have practiced in the living room before I left. Ok yeah, that did happen. Not that I didn't already know the moves, I just thought some polish was in order since I had the fingerless lace gloves on and everything.

Starlight, star bright. Yeah.