sweet, sweet music

I learn a lot from my little sister - like how my style is outdated.

Last month my sister let me in on a site called Pandora. I'm sure the whole world knows about it. But for the people who are behind the curve (like yours truly) - you pick your favorite artists and Pandora links you with similar music. I am FREAKIN' in love.

Pandora is like having a wonderful, emotional boyfriend that makes you mix-tapes of music that remind him of you - and then names them after experiences you have together. Like compiling Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat and naming it "Eating Cotton Candy."

My friends don't listen to my "kind" of music - which can be best described as mellow, weepy folk lite. So I'm glad Pandora can recommend more music that makes me want to soak in a warm tub surrounded by lavender candles.

aliens!

John Hodgman doesn’t just play a PC on TV! Hodgman can spin a yarn. Well, this video is more of a blanket. This video is hilarious if you like dry humor and geeks. Takes about 4:20 to mention New Jersey – but I think Hodgman misses the real aliens at the shore.

can i add life experience to my resume?

Help wanted pages always depress me. Not that it takes very long anymore – the pages aren’t enough to line a birdcage. What always bothers me is that most jobs ask for years of experience.

Ten years experience? I would have been 12 and pining away for Kevin from the Backstreet Boys – I always had a thing for square jaws.

Seven years experience? Yeah – the 15 year-old me would be rushing through high school halls lined with yellow lockers. Probably rushing to finish homework I had forgotten to do the night before because I was painting my nails blue and arguing with my first “real” boyfriend. And by “real” I mean I didn’t giggle and run away when I saw him.

Five years experience? Does booking hair and make-up from D.C. count as scheduling? What about freaking that you won’t get to Jersey before prom because you are stuck at a Model United Nations conference during a massive snow storm – crisis experience?

Three years experience? Pharmacy technician doesn’t work well on a journalism resume. But you try asking a crazy lady about her medical insurance while screaming at her devilish children. That prepared me for asking questions, listening and typing as fast as humanly possible – before those kids knocked down another Hallmark display.

All I have is one year of experience – an “internship,” which is a fun way for newsrooms to work you to the bone and pay you next to nothing. I loved every minute of it – calling strangers, setting up interviews, getting to the heart of things, taking pictures, pushing toward a deadline, looking over pages.

But it’s only a year. Maybe I can add that I know all the words to the “Larger than Life” to my resume. I’m sure that will give me some bonus points.

invading the personal bubble for journalism

I don’t pretend to know everything about relationships. But spending every waking moment no more than 15 feet away from your spouse and living in each other’s consciousness (whatever the hell that really means) seems like the quickest way to a divorce.

I love this video for so many reasons. I think these two are hilarious without trying to be, like the breakfast scene:

You took all the cinnamon sugar!

Well, go get some more. I have a child in my lap

First of all, you have diabetic.

(Which grammatically doesn’t make sense, but I’m pretty sure I quoted that correctly.)

I give them credit for going through the day without killing each other. And after 11 years of marriage they still learned things about one another – like how a brisk Fresca is essential in the morning.

But am I the only one who notices the horrendously large bunny statue in their home? That thing is scary!

why not an even 20...

Everyone has their guilty pleasures. Men. Chocolate. Men drenched in chocolate...but I digress.

My guilty pleasure is watching the Duggars. The parents believe in quiverfull - accepting any children that God bestows on them. This family in Arkansas has 17 children. Let me repeat: 17 children. With another bun in the God-lovin' oven.

And I'm not the only one who loves watching these crazy, home-schooling, prayer-reading, psalm-singing bunch. TV crews followed this family building their own house. There are few things scarier than a six-year-old wielding an electric saw talking about being a missionary when he grows up.

Now the latest saga is that Josh, the oldest Duggar boy, just got hitched at the ripe, old age of 20. The proposal was picturesque at a restaurant called Gator Landing, complete with plastic alligators dressed in sombreros. (I wish I was kidding.) After the proposal comes the dating. Yup - these two never dated before he popped the question, but through prayer Josh decided this was the right move. (Again, wish I was kidding.)

The scene was so touching - even though there wasn't that much bodily contact. Josh and his fiance decided that they can only hug or hold hands - the first kiss would be on the wedding day. No kissing? At all? They were even followed by someone, just in case they felt the impulse to lock lips. This is completely foreign to me - in fifth grade your popularity was ranked by how many boys you could kiss in the closet during the Bill Nye the Science Guy tape. (Good think I liked science a lot more than boys at that point.)

I'm torn between admiring their restraint to laughing hysterically imagining how awkward their first smooch was. I hope chapstick was mentioned in one of those hymns.

have a magical day!

Another week, another business trip. This time it was off to Orlando - just a monorail away from the Magic Kingdom. Here are the top five things I learned from my trip:

Florida boys can dance. My co-worker Kim and I kicked off the trip by spending a night on Pleasure Island, which isn't as dirty as it sounds. We order round after round of "Rage in the Cage" with glowing fake ice cubes and watched the regular crew dance their asses off. These guys had set dance moves they were pulling out - no wonder Backstreet Boys and NSYNC came from Orlando. But then again, anything more than the standard Jersey fist-pump would impress me.

Only cute kids are allowed in Disney. We did not see one ugly kid while we were down there. I know, I know - all kids are "cute." But these children were mutantly adorable. Rosy cheeks, pig tails, gap teeth, light up sneakers. The works. And some were dressed up in Halloween costumes for a parade (a ploy to buy more Disney merchandise) and the kids were dressed up as cowboys, Nemo and even a golfer. We were drowning in cuteness.

Fanny packs are en vogue. No respectable tourist would walk around Disney without it. Some were even in fluorescent colors. I didn't think anyone sold fanny packs any more, but there must be a secret store right outside the gates that were giving them out. I just didn't get the memo.

They must drug the water. All the employees are ridiculously happy and are just waiting to help you. And they shout "HAVE A MAGICAL DAY!" at the end of every conversation. I had to supress my Jersey instinct to throw the bird everytime I heard it.

When they say 'all-you-can-eat,' they mean it. We stopped at Ohana's where they bring out exactly a ton and a half of food. We kept repeating we were full, then followed that by another dumpling. Then when you can't finish your meal, they heckle you and give shove skewers of meat in your face. But at least they roll you back to your room.