Sexier than a Librarian is the tagline being use to advertise the Sony Portable Reader, and librarians are ticked. Why shouldn't we be? As one patron told me, "Librarians are search engines with smiles and hot legs." (Well, he might have left off that part about hot legs. I frequently confuse reality and fantasy.)
Any public librarian will tell you that she probably gets hit on at least once a week by the mental ill, partially blind, or homeless, which is a pretty good indicator of our desirability and general hotness.
As a group, we cannot stand for this discrimination and hate speech (that's a little strong, but it's still insulting, capitalizes on stereotypes, and is just not nice). We must take action. If we cannot all descend on Sony's headquarters to unfurl our buns, remove our glasses, and hike up our ankle length skirts while dancing to Motley Crue's Girls, Girls, Girls on the top of the CEO's desk, then let's bombard them with letters and emails until they change the slogan.
The address is:
Sony Corporation of America
Sony Drive
Park Ridge, NJ 07656
Here is a link to email customer service (If you have a better email address, please leave it in the comments).
http://esupport.sony.com/US/perl/model-accessories.pl?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Busted
"Did you write today?", my husband asked me. This is a strange and leading question from a man who normally doesn't engage me in conversation and prefers for me to confide, confess, and inform. He selectively listens, knowing I'll repeat it 10 to 12 more times.
"No, I didn't have time today, but I am working on a few pieces that I want to edit before I send them to you," I said.
"I'll be the first one to read it, right?" he said. "Another strange and leading question. Maybe he found my blog," I thought briefly but quickly dismissed it as insecurity or sincerity.
"Well, you'll be the first person to read the whole thing, but I always try out some material in my emails to Stephanie first," I said. I left the room to avoid additional questioning.
Taking joy in my integration he followed me to the kitchen asking, "So, when do the kids start Chinese lessons?", a slightly more bizarre question but this time showing interest in the kids. Perhaps he is reading a self-help book on communication, I rationalized.
"Mid-January," I said, "Kids use your indoor voices."
He said, "I know those kids are so loud, I'll probably go tone-deaf."
"Tone-deaf. That is a phrase directly off my blog. When did you find it?" I said.
"What blog?", he coyly responded.
"The blog that I have been keeping for four-months without you knowing. When did you find it?" Since I was clearly caught with no real explanation, I had no other option but to attack and question the questioner.
He never admitted to the when and how. But the when was probably that day, and the how isn't too hard to figure out. For months, I have been sending him emails cut and pasted from my blog. A little thing called a search engine retrieved my deception.
Anticipating his fury, I was ready with my rebuttals. "I take care of your four kids. I need a creative outlet" , "Writing keeps me off of antidepressants" , "If you read my blog, I can't write about you", "What if I wanted to write about my past, I didn't want to hurt your feelings," "Everyone needs a secret cyberlife," and if he got rude "I needed a blog to go along with my Facebook and MySpace pages. Need to maximize online opportunities for meeting men." I was ready for anything that he dealt.
"I am proud of you," he said.
(Hi sweetie. Love you bunches. Thank you for taking care of me and the kids, so I can write whatever I want whenever I want. Please give the baby a bottle and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Your Dear and Loving Wife.)
"No, I didn't have time today, but I am working on a few pieces that I want to edit before I send them to you," I said.
"I'll be the first one to read it, right?" he said. "Another strange and leading question. Maybe he found my blog," I thought briefly but quickly dismissed it as insecurity or sincerity.
"Well, you'll be the first person to read the whole thing, but I always try out some material in my emails to Stephanie first," I said. I left the room to avoid additional questioning.
Taking joy in my integration he followed me to the kitchen asking, "So, when do the kids start Chinese lessons?", a slightly more bizarre question but this time showing interest in the kids. Perhaps he is reading a self-help book on communication, I rationalized.
"Mid-January," I said, "Kids use your indoor voices."
He said, "I know those kids are so loud, I'll probably go tone-deaf."
"Tone-deaf. That is a phrase directly off my blog. When did you find it?" I said.
"What blog?", he coyly responded.
"The blog that I have been keeping for four-months without you knowing. When did you find it?" Since I was clearly caught with no real explanation, I had no other option but to attack and question the questioner.
He never admitted to the when and how. But the when was probably that day, and the how isn't too hard to figure out. For months, I have been sending him emails cut and pasted from my blog. A little thing called a search engine retrieved my deception.
Anticipating his fury, I was ready with my rebuttals. "I take care of your four kids. I need a creative outlet" , "Writing keeps me off of antidepressants" , "If you read my blog, I can't write about you", "What if I wanted to write about my past, I didn't want to hurt your feelings," "Everyone needs a secret cyberlife," and if he got rude "I needed a blog to go along with my Facebook and MySpace pages. Need to maximize online opportunities for meeting men." I was ready for anything that he dealt.
"I am proud of you," he said.
(Hi sweetie. Love you bunches. Thank you for taking care of me and the kids, so I can write whatever I want whenever I want. Please give the baby a bottle and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Your Dear and Loving Wife.)
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Cut That Grey Out Of My Hair
The question is always the same: "Do you know who you look like?" Of course my natural response is Beyonce with Angelina Jolie's lips and Adriana Lima's abs, but instead I feign interest and surprise with "Who?" The answer has always been the same since 1987, "Jennifer Grey."
Although I have considered replying "Pre-nose job or post nose-job" or "No, I am much prettier," I normally respond with "Really." The conversation becomes painfully silent and ends abruptly. "Thanks" would be a more polite response, but I just can't bring myself to say thank you because I don't know if I am being complimented, insulted, or simply being told the facts in a nonjudgmental manner. Now if they said I look like Cindy Crawford, Julia Roberts, Bette Milder or Steven Tyler, I would know where I stood. With Jennifer Grey it is not so clear cut. Is she the ugly-pretty that Tyra Banks is always babbling about when she is not talking about herself or trying to cure people of their phobias?
Wonder if it would be rude to ask for clarification, "So, do you think Jennifer Grey is pretty?", or "Do I look Jewish to you?" , how about "Are you saying I need a nose job?", or maybe "Are you telling me I still have an 80s hairstyle?" The interpretations are endless but chances are they are saying I am a Jewish looking woman with bad outdated hair, which is odd because I am half-Italian and very Catholic with hair that suits my face and disposition. I consider my nose as unique and truly mine and sure my hair says: "I love the 80s." But wait a second, Dirty Dancing takes place in the 60s, so do I have a 60s hairstyle? No, she also had that hairstyle in Ferris Bueller, so maybe she refused to change her look for the movie. Probably should have taken that stance before the nose job in 90s. Bad nose plenty of work; good nose no work. (Luckily in my case, you don't have to a good nose or good hair to be a librarian/essayist.)
It's Jennifer Grey's ugly prettiness that help makes Dirty Dancing a campy cult classic; her untraditional looks work to build the tension between the shy good girl baby and handsome bad boy Johnny (played by Patrick Swayze), making it the archetypal tale of an ugly duckling turns into beautiful swan and finds self-worth and love through semi-rebellious not so dirty dancing. Grey emanates her alluring reticence throughout the film from her initial graceless and bashful saunter to the back quarters with Johnny to the dance finale of independence and self-actualization. But it is during the Love is Strange number that Grey exudes awkward sexiness as she lip syncs: "Come 'ere lover boy" and crawls to her Johnny.
I like to think I also give off that same kind of awkward sexiness. So one day, I tried to use my Jennifer Grey look-alike status by reenacting that classic scene during my freshman year of college. I was trying to convince my chemistry partner Mitchell that I should be his girlfriend.
He asked if I was having stomach cramps and offered to drive me to hospital. Later he told me: "You would have better luck with guys if you weren't so desperate."
I retired my Jennifer Grey personae forever. I think I'll get a long platinum blond wig and clean out my refrigerator now.
Although I have considered replying "Pre-nose job or post nose-job" or "No, I am much prettier," I normally respond with "Really." The conversation becomes painfully silent and ends abruptly. "Thanks" would be a more polite response, but I just can't bring myself to say thank you because I don't know if I am being complimented, insulted, or simply being told the facts in a nonjudgmental manner. Now if they said I look like Cindy Crawford, Julia Roberts, Bette Milder or Steven Tyler, I would know where I stood. With Jennifer Grey it is not so clear cut. Is she the ugly-pretty that Tyra Banks is always babbling about when she is not talking about herself or trying to cure people of their phobias?
Wonder if it would be rude to ask for clarification, "So, do you think Jennifer Grey is pretty?", or "Do I look Jewish to you?" , how about "Are you saying I need a nose job?", or maybe "Are you telling me I still have an 80s hairstyle?" The interpretations are endless but chances are they are saying I am a Jewish looking woman with bad outdated hair, which is odd because I am half-Italian and very Catholic with hair that suits my face and disposition. I consider my nose as unique and truly mine and sure my hair says: "I love the 80s." But wait a second, Dirty Dancing takes place in the 60s, so do I have a 60s hairstyle? No, she also had that hairstyle in Ferris Bueller, so maybe she refused to change her look for the movie. Probably should have taken that stance before the nose job in 90s. Bad nose plenty of work; good nose no work. (Luckily in my case, you don't have to a good nose or good hair to be a librarian/essayist.)
It's Jennifer Grey's ugly prettiness that help makes Dirty Dancing a campy cult classic; her untraditional looks work to build the tension between the shy good girl baby and handsome bad boy Johnny (played by Patrick Swayze), making it the archetypal tale of an ugly duckling turns into beautiful swan and finds self-worth and love through semi-rebellious not so dirty dancing. Grey emanates her alluring reticence throughout the film from her initial graceless and bashful saunter to the back quarters with Johnny to the dance finale of independence and self-actualization. But it is during the Love is Strange number that Grey exudes awkward sexiness as she lip syncs: "Come 'ere lover boy" and crawls to her Johnny.
I like to think I also give off that same kind of awkward sexiness. So one day, I tried to use my Jennifer Grey look-alike status by reenacting that classic scene during my freshman year of college. I was trying to convince my chemistry partner Mitchell that I should be his girlfriend.
He asked if I was having stomach cramps and offered to drive me to hospital. Later he told me: "You would have better luck with guys if you weren't so desperate."
I retired my Jennifer Grey personae forever. I think I'll get a long platinum blond wig and clean out my refrigerator now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)