Worth At Least 2,000 Words!

It happens, it always does.  One minute you’re clicking through your Flickr album, perusing the Facebook archives or scrolling your way down digital camera memory lane and then WHAMMY!

I present, “Worth at least 2,000 words – When Bad Pics Happen To Good People”

*Never fear, these are all of me so none other than my ego was harmed in the making of this post*

Because one Port-O-Potty is never enough background fodder

No really, this face just happens to everyone forced to wear an Alex Smith jersey.

Fear the thumbs!!!

See – I really do look better after a tall cold one.

There I go again, overexposing myself in Las Vegas.

At least I was color-coordinated.  Yay beer!


Happy Photoshop to you all and to all a high-resolution zoom lens.


My world, gone flat

It is no news flash that I have a deep affinity for high altitude footwear.  Platform, wedge, stiletto, peep-toe, sling-back, you name it and I’ve got it … in every color.

Unless I am at the gym, I am in heels – high heels.  I am Amel DeMarcos on a Top Ramen budget.  Give me something black, leather, 4″ tall, under $150 and I am in heaven; nothing else matters.

…. until this happened ….

Early this week I began to notice something – all podiatric preferentials aside, putting my foot into anything taller than 1″ has me meandering like a Neanderthal on stilts.

The time has come, everyone warned me.

My world has gone flat!

Please join me in hanging up my favorite pair of heels *tear*

And join me in welcoming the newest player to my all-star line-up

Sexy? …  Heavens No!

Eye-catching? …  Definitely Not!

Face plant preventing? … MOS DEF!

Never fear, I refuse to completely shun my marvelous toe toppers.  When and where appropriate ( see: sitting down) I promised myself to still sport a few good inches of prized patent leather.  Though, until next April, I feel those chances to be few and far between.

Until then, I’m stuck down here – 5’9″, stable and standing.

I Ordered That?!

Oh, what my mailman must think. 

Eh, who cares … it was Monday – check the mailbox day.  I should do it more often but I am addicted to the “it’s like Christmas” feeling I get every Monday on my drive home.  Honestly, I would do it less frequently but my mailman has started leaving hate post-its on my door. 

What could await me, oil change coupons?  20% off at Bed Bath & Beyond? Indubitably at least 3 political ads and maybe, if I was lucky, I would get Mike *********’s Comcast bill again ( I promise I only hold it up to the light to see through it never open it!) I turn the key and…

High five, my miniature (4 chips) sample can of Pringles FINALLY came.  Come to momma, sour cream and onion!  I’m not certain how I made it this long without my individual dryer sheet sample packet; seriously considering the switch from “April Fresh” to “Clean Linen” – but want to make an educated decision.  The icing on the cake was my free trial edition of Practical Horseman

I ordered that?!

Embracing my temporary curiosity, I took my treasures (and bills) inside and sat down for a brief delve into an equine state of mind.  Check out those pants…Rawr!

After 7 minutes passed I tossed the mag, ate the Pringles and did a load of laundry.

I can hardly keep my patient panties on for next Monday.  I am expecting delivery of hand sanitizer samples and am running low on pizza coupons.

Mind Your “Ma’am”ers

I am not exactly certain the precise moment in my life when the simple act of saying hello began to catch me off guard. It seems that a nod of the head and a slight glance in my direction is enough effort to pass as a mutual acknowledgment.

It should be noted that I neither lack nor discourage the practice of manners, cordial greetings included; I am just not accustomed to their everyday use (sad).

In no way am I intending to rebuke the polite thank you that was extended my way at an undisclosed Safeway location, but come on … “MA’AM?!

I instantly felt my hair graying, my arthritis kick in and looked down to double-check that my stilettos hadn’t morphed into tan orthopedics with Velcro.

To double frost the cake, Daniel – who has been proudly serving me since 2002 – initiated the transaction with a “Hello, young lady”. How had I aged 50 years during the less than two-minute act of buying Lucky Charms, toothpaste and an InStyle magazine?!

The look of bewilderment upon my face must have been transparent as Daniel so innocently looked up from my receipt and fearfully squeaked out “you saved $1.19 today.”

I was not consoled.

Shaking my head I proceeded out the door and immediately updated my Facebook status, longing for a witty reply from one of my friends that might offer explanation.

Nothing. Three people liked it.

Begrudgingly I have still not abandoned my love for hellos, thank yous or manners in general, I just urgently caution all of you to use them wisely.  When in doubt, smile and nod. Better to be rude than to call a 26-year old “MA’AM!”

YES … I can see you!

Having had my license for just over a decade now, I feel qualified to bring you this news flash.

Attention: Despite popular belief, just because you are inside of you car does not mean that I can no longer see you!

Neither tinted windows nor excessive speed can immunize you.

I commute at least 50 miles a day in traffic ranging from 3-80mph and have become quite the connoisseur of observing the driving habits of those around me – this is mostly a defense mechanism due to the plethora of overtly inept recipients of a California driver’s license.

Albeit undocumented, my research has determined that most drivers can be grouped into one, if not many of the following groups:

The Gold Miner – You can hardly wait for the coveted moment when the false sense of security your car provides you kicks in and you can reach for the sky and venture off on a picking excursion of epic portion. The ironic part is when you finish you never fail to look down at your finger and then into the rear view mirror to make sure you’re ‘clear’. Next time look out the window next to you and there it is; YES … I can see you!

The American Idol – “…and the Britney song was on …” I get it, the road rhythm creates a nice vibrato, the steering wheel doubles as a drum set and your radio can broadcast at a volume just higher than your ears can hear your actual pitch. All that aside, next time you find yourself in mid head bang during the third chorus of an epic ballad, turn and look out the window next to you and there it is; YES … I can see you!

The Jerry Springer – Indubitably, life is stressful. In your exemplary display of multi-tasking you take on some of the biggest arguments behind the wheel. This is often packaged into an impressive finger gesture and hands-free device four-letter word shouting display. I know it is quite a cozy little cubby of anger there in your car, but seriously; look out the window next to you and there it is. YES … I can see you!

The Procreator – As if the ‘kids on board’ yellow triangle dangling in your minivan’s hatchback window didn’t give it away, then your flailing limbs aimed toward the back seats did. Junior wasn’t happy that you made him get into the car in the first place and no amount of assistance can help him calm down now. Put down the Capri Sun, turn up Raffi and face forward please. Oh, and turn your head to the side and look out the window next to you, YES … I can see you!

Now, I know that this is not a fully encompassing description of all motorists but it is what I believe to be an accurate account of what we all must cope with whenever we take to the roadways. This time of year so many of us are traveling via car to see our friends and family so please be safe and if you are so inclined, turn and look out the window next to you …..

Are You Tough?

Scene:  Third story board room; myself and two recruiters oppositely nestled amongst a sea of black chairs meaningfully placed around a vast, but empty conference table. Here it comes ….. one of them asks, “Carrie, are you tough”?

I dutifully rattled off some muddled answer and got a nod in reply, however hours later, my Monday morning quarterback thought process just cannot shake that question out of my head.  Should I have been more witty? Should I have deflected my answer towards one of my less abrasive strengths? Wait…. AM I TOUGH?

Am I the lion or the lamb? With what level of commitment do I hold my ground?

My mind is breaking the speed limit.  Confidence, conscience and conviction my passengers along for the ride.

It is these thought provoking, self-reflection questions that any good HR person asks and that most candidates (now, me included) stumble over.  Why does it seem to bother so many to claim they’re “tough”?  I’ll admit that I wasn’t quick to jump at adding that word to my brand.  It seems too rough, almost rigid.  I want to diligently portray my commitment to my craft without sounding so abrasive, yet simultaneously protecting myself from sounding flighty and undeserving of a challenge.

So, am I Tough? No.

I am Firm. Passionate. Strong. Unwavering. Persistent.