Merry Christma-Channuk-Wanza-kuh!

The traditional seasonal greeting.

Well, atleast in today's society.

As a half-breed, I feel so demographically homogenous in today's society. Coming from a half-Jewish, half-not family, I don't feel so special anymore. Atleast not in terms of my Atlanta heritage. In Richmond, I think I am still an anomoly. At any given time, I'm really just a beer away from being asked if I know Adam Sandler. (I don't, for anyone who is still curious)

But I still own my cultural heritage, because it is part of who I am. I grew up lighting the candles and spinning the dreidle and I try to maintain these traditions to the best of my ability. I want to make sure that my Mickey has a strong sense of where he came from :)

So as I start to prepare myself for my first journey home next weekend for the holiday season, I reflect upon this holiday season and the gems that it is about to bestow upon me (mostly my mother telling my dog that he is sufficient until any further grandchildren present themselves), and I want to wish all of my friends and followers and family a happy holiday season.

Embrace the holiday spirit, whatever that holiday may be. And if the holiday season (or the 9 shopping days left) does not so move you, then channel deep inner thoughts of Ho-Ho-Hos and Egg Nog and latkes and tacky lights, or whatever it is that really touches you deep down on a holiday type level so that you are tolerable at a holiday party.

Beacuse the holidays are real and they are spectacular. Tell those you love that you love them, and those that you don't that you do anyway (a little white-lie never hurt anyone).

And before you know it, it will be 2013 and we will be onto whining about new things all over again, so enjoy the holiday spirit while you can.

A most joyous of seasons to you all, my friends. To Jews and non-Jews alike, we are all but one holiday melting pot known as December.

L'Chaim.

CLW

Rap Songs White Girls Love

Recently, I've made a fantastic discovery...

The rap section of my satellite radio stations.

Now I know what you are thinking "How can this white girl from East Cobb (for my Richmond friends, think Short Pump) possibly know anything about good rap?" Valid question. I don't. I am, however, quite well versed in terrible pop rap. While attending high school (not in snobby East Cobb where I grew up) I was more of a demographic minority and was exposed to a much wider array of rap music. Most of which I chose to ignore and opt for whatever 95.5 The Beat told me I liked in those late 1990s/2000s years. Side note: did anyone ever decide what we are calling the early 2000s? Or are we just kind of skipping over that reference and pretending it never happened, kind of like Lindsey Lohan's music career?

So as I have been getting back in touch with my high school music roots with the discovery of my new satellite stations, I've been thinking about some of my favorite "rap" songs. And simultaneously realizing that absolutely none of them are getting any air time on these legit stations. Quite frankly, I've really just been changing back and forth between the 4 or so channels in hopes that Baby Got Back will be on so that I can roll down the windows and impress all of Richmond with how I know every single lyric unlike anyone else. So far, no dice. But who understands those rap stations anyway? I mean their playlists, they're just so BIG!

But you other brothers can't deny, there really is no need to look much farther than my own embarrasing Spotify playlists to identify a subset of songs that all girls love to listen to and proclaim that they "love rap music".

1. Sisqo: Thong Song
2. Sir Mix A Lot: Baby Got Back
3. P. Diddy: Shake Ya Tailfeather
4. Salt N' Peppa: Shoop
5. TLC: No Scrubs
6. 50 Cent: In Da Club
7. DMX: Party Up
8. Akon: Smack That
9. Beyonce: Single Ladies
10. Outkast: Hey Ya
11. Tag Team: Whoomp There It Is
12. Destiny's Child: ANYTHING
13. Ginuwine: Pony
14. Nelly: Country Grammar
15. Jay-Z: Hard Knock Life
16. Jennifer Lopez: Jenny From the Block
17. Ashanti: Always On Time
18. Jagged Edge: Let's Get Married
19. Juvenile: Back That Azz Up
20. Lil' Jon: Get Low

Ok, Cosmo-stlye quiz time. Even though when it comes to music, Cosmo ain't got nothin' to do with my selection. So...how many of these did you read over and immediately respond "OMG! That's my soooooong"?

15-20 OMGs
False. You do not like rap music. You are probably a white girl that grew up in the 90s though. Well done, you may collect your complimentary glow in the dark slap bracelet and scrunchie upon completion of this post.

10-14 OMGs
Congratulations! You went to college in the last 15 years! Or atleast to the frat parties...

5-9 OMGs
You listen to a lot of country music, don't you? That's ok, I do too. For you I offer an alternate list:
Dixie Chicks: Wide Open Spaces
Rascal Flatts: Bless the Broken Road
Brad Paisley: Alcohol
Kenny Chesney: She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy
Reba McEntire: Fancy
Sugarland: Baby Girl
Martina McBride: This One's For the Girls
Faith Hill: This Kiss
Does this list seem to be a little more in the right direction for you? Thought it might be. Nothing wrong with that.

0-4 OMGs
Don't worry, Mom, I'll play you a few of these rap tunes that the kids be listenin' to, yo.



Fun fact: I've done more than one of the songs on this list at karaoke...in front of people...in public. True that.

If you can come up with any others that I have left off the list, please feel free to chime in. It's a pretty fun exercise, until you realize that the music you've been listening to actually kind of sucks. Oh well, that's why we have the freedom to hide our playlists on Facebook, whew!

The Faces of Your Job

Raise your hand if you work in corporate America. Ok, now put your hand down. Now raise it again to re-confirm.

Now put your hand down - you look ridiculous raising your hand by yourself. Gotcha! Bazinga! Anyway...

But if you felt so moved to raise it the first time (not so much the second time since that was just me having a little fun), then you have probably come into contact with some very colorful personalities in your office work space during your stint in Corporate Land.

Not that I'm a seasoned vetern in the work force by any means, but I've been immersed in the corporate circus called "my career" just long enough to have identified several commonalities across jobs and industries. I'm comfortable enough with this petite sample size to draw some conclusions about a few office staples that I think we have all become too familiar with.

The Mail Room Guy: Every office that I've ever worked in has THAT guy. The guy who runs the mail room. Maybe you know him as the Office Manager. Maybe you have seen him lurking behind your car on his lunch break. Maybe you have seen him adding your friends on Facebook. Maybe he's your brother. However you've gotten to "know" him, you know the creeper I'm talking about.

The Freaker-Outer: OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! Can you BELIEVE they got rid of the Earl Grey Tea?!?!?! It's unacceptable, I tell you! Who's with me!! Ya, her. Avoid her in the hallways, she WILL corner you, and she WILL have a petition for you to sign.

The Person Who Is ALWAYS right: The worst part is most offices have several of these. I think that this person is possibly one of the most versatile in today's line up, often finding his or herself in one of several other categories on this list. But it does not matter what the topic is or what the outcome is; they have to be right and you have to be wrong. About something. Anything. They are usually the last one to speak in a meeting, and it's only to point out that you said "their" instead of "they're" at the beginning of your presentation before big boss leaves the room and after everyone has already forgotten you spoke.

The Snitch: Did you accidentally leave a coffee stir on the counter in the kitchen this morning? Leave it to Cranky Cathy to send you an email with the President of the company CCed alerting everyone that company policy 437, section B on page 218 of the employee handbook clearly states that coffee stirs are not allowed to be left on the countertop for no more than 3 seconds at a time, unless in the case of fire. So unless there is a fire that hasn't reached CC's desk yet...she is correct, you are in violation of the code. And now everyone will see your weakness.

The Bitch: There's always atleast one. They tend to travel in packs. They will judge your shoes and your work. You can't stop it. Probably safest if you just assume this role yourself.

The Gossip: She's like Gretchen Wieners on Mean Girls- her hair is so big because it's full of secrets. No matter what's going on in the office, she always knows...even if it hasn't even happened yet. Maybe she's planted bugs in the bathroom walls, maybe she's monitoring your emails, maybe people just trust her too much because you know that if you cough up something interesting for her, she will "one-up" any secret you can possibly lay out on the table. Do not cross her (or him...but let's be honest...probably her).

The "What Does He DO?" Guy: You definitely know this personality becuase they are always at your desk. Sometimes with a golf club over their shoulder. Usually trying to talk you into going to Happy Hour at 2pm. They are never actually doing anything.  Office full of games and toys? Check. King of email forwards? Check. 2-day work weeks? Check. What do they do???? (FYI...probably Sales)

The Crazy Cat Lady: She's really nice. And she has a lot of cats. She inspires you not to be her when you grow up. Not to mention that she makes you thankful that you have dogs.

The Week Night Partier: This one is usually pretty easy to pin point in the building. Just follow the perpetual vodka-soaked stench. In case you were not blessed with great olfactory senses, then just keep an eye out for anyone sporting the same threads day after day, disheveled hair, and probably still a stamp on their hand from the night before. And by night before I mean they left the club and came straight to the office. Possibly a quick nap in their car in the back of the parking lot if they were lucky. So if you are one of those that gets to the office before opening hours, keep an eye out for the late 90s Honda in the back corner of the parking lot with reclined seats. I recommend parking next to them and honking your horn as a friendly wake up call.


Now if you are sitting here thinking to yourself, "I don't know any of these people", then you do NOT have a real job. I suggest you go get one. Actually, after rereading these descriptions, I take it back. Keep your job...send me an application!

A New Life, A New Blog

Alright Party People, you asked and you shall receive.

Over the last few months, I have had several requests for a change in layout and theme that fits more in line with who I am. A photo less than 5 years old, a less seizure-inducing color schematic, and a new tag line. Ok, fine, maybe you didn't ask for all those things, but that's what you get.

Since the tone of the page has changed over the last few months to go along with the new scenery of my life, it only seems fitting to have made one additional overhaul...my page.

So, I hope you like the new face of Cindy Lou Who. And if not, please feel free to submit a handwritten letter of complaint to the Management Team (and by Management Team, I would hope that you all know by now, I obviously mean Mickey).

Happy Reading!

My Life As a Sitcom

I had an interesting realization this week. Well, more like last week. They are all starting to blur together...

But have you ever had that startling moment where you are laying on your couch in your casual Sunday sweats, eating potato chips on your sandwich and watching a Friends marathon and all of a sudden realized..."Holy crap, my life is NOT a sitcom"?

If you answered no to the above question, just stop reading now and go back to your spot at Central Perk with Chandler, Joey, Monica and the gang. There's not much more here for you.

And for those that answered "Yes" to the above question...what a BUZZ KILL is that? Am I right? Now obviously I don't picture myself living in New York with a nuclear group of my 5 closest friends, but similar to my beef with the false promises that Rom-Com's have breeded for the average single girl for the last 27+ years of my life, I have found in sitcoms.

As an avid Friends fanatic, I grew up on a show that promised me a super close group of friends that all live on the same block and have fun adventures and give me something to aspire to "when I get to be their age". And then one day, when you are laying on the couch eating potato chips you are smacked in the face with the realization that "Holy crap, my life is NOT a sitcom." It's no longer about when I get to be their age, this is how things will be, but now it's "I'm at their age, and this is what I haven't done". Sure, I could try to be a little more like my Friends counterparts and walk across the hall to my neighbors apartment in my pajama pants and take milk out of their fridge for my bowl of Special K that I brought in my own quirky themed bowl, but I'm not sure that this is how I want to awkwardly introduce myself to the couple across the hall or finally have my first arrest on record. Maybe I should take a page out of Monica's book and atleast bake them a bundt cake or something first.

We spend so many years waiting to live a life that we envisioned, that it can be a jarring discovery to realize that you are past the point of waiting for it to start and are in fact already living it - even if it isn't the hand that you expected to be dealt. And when you stop to look around at every one else around you growing and progressing...getting married, having kids, finishing doctorates, getting promoted, buying houses...all these benchmarks of "growing up" can seem so overwhelming. It can be challenging not to measure your personal accomplishments against those of your peers, especially in a society that so heavily promotes being able to "do it all". How can I "do it all" if I'm not really doing any of it?

The theme for 2012 was not to worry about any of this. A year without a plan, just go with the flow. And I've been very successful at it. But we are running out of time in 2012 and need to start thinking in 2013 terms. Lucky 13...maybe that's next year's theme. The year of George! Er...The year of Cindy Lou! Guess I better go back and familiarize myself with the Resolution Rules before I get too set on the next one.

So, as I ponder these things for myself and start to accept the fact that I am living in the present and can't keep waiting for the future to happen, I challenge all of you to also consider what it is that you want to be in your present that you have been seeing in your future. Or don't. Whatever you're feeling really.

All things said, I do still hope that the Friends do a reunion show someday. I'll totally watch it. The One Where They All File for Social Security.

L'Enfer, C'est Facebook and Politics

L'enfer, c'est les autres.

Translation: Hell is others.

This existentialist motto is one that captivated me as a French major in college. So simple, yet so bold, and completely terrifying. Even though I grew up in the Jewish faith (well, mostly), I still grew up in the southern Bible belt and heard for years about a vision of Hell being all firey and brimstoney and Satan like. Yikes.

And then along came Jean-Paul Sartre, with a completely different explanation for the afterlife in the event that you don't play by the "rules" in the present life. Because what could be worse than being tortured by nemeses for the remainder of eternity?

Well, obviously my buddy J-P never experienced a political season on Facebook (I wonder if he and Simone would have been FB official...)...

Now, before you get entirely heated up and ready to scream your head off at whatever opinion I don't care about, allow me to note that this is not a political post. I don't care who wins the Presidency, honestly. I don't care who the Vice President is. And I can guarantee you that I couldn't name a single Senator in either Georgia or Virginia. Unless they put a bumper sticker on Mickey's rear, I'm probably not going to notice one either.

But anyone who has logged onto Facebook in the last 2 weeks, and for the next few weeks until this painfully annoying process is put to rest, has been completely berated by ridiculous political commentary that we don't really want. Whatever Mitt-bama nonsense people are selling, I ain't buying.

And I pretty much reached my breaking point this morning when the political season managed to ruin my work out. My holy sacred escape, the one time of day that I get entirely to myself, out of contact, free of frustration. I work out in a basement with no cell phone reception, and the only reason I tolerate my crappy musty apartment gym is because there is no cell reception. No one can find me (hopefully no creepers are reading this...). But this morning, my mp3 player was dead. So at 5:45am, struggling to wake up and get my energy going, I figured I could fake it by putting the TV on for some entertainment. In the words of the great Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, "Big Mistake. Huge."

There was only 1 channel available on the TV. An unnamed news network. Ok, not terrible I guess, maybe I'll luck out and catch the sports and weather segments. Wrong. It just happened to be Election Watch hour while I was down there. So at first I decided to give it a go because it couldn't possibly be worse than tiredly running in silence in the wee hours of the morning. Yup, wrong again. It was painful. My body was physically in pain listening to these pundits scream at each other over and over again. I would have rather found the "Nails on a Chalk Board" station.

Therefor, I postulate that L'enfer is NOT les autres. L'enfer is in fact American political season. I hate it, I hate every bit of it. The left wing, the right wing, the middle, ALL of it. I can't wait until November 7th. No, I take that back, maybe the 8th is safer. Atleast by then, I will be able to map out a full listing of all the countries that everyone will insist they are moving to in order to cope with the results of the election. I will then use that map to plan my next vacation of where NOT to go. I'd rather take a trip to L'enfer, because les autres sound way more tolerable than an eternity of listening to any more debates, news casts, Facebook posts, or roadside advocates.

And in case you were wondering about my political affiliations...Mickey/ Jackson 2012 all the way! I'm guessing I'll probably have to write that one in though. The fever hasn't quite caught on at a national level, mostly just in our apartment.

Oh, which reminds me...Rule #6...no bumper stickers.

The Rules of Car Care Are Simple and Finite

I did something big this weekend.

That's right, I bought a new car, the single biggest purchase I've ever made in my life. Not just any car either, but an Audi A4 2.0T. Yeah, I didn't really know what that meant either. All I really know is that it's a shiny silvery blue with leather interior, satellite radio, seat warmers, and tops out around 120mph. And it has a really cool button that does this thing where it makes a "ding" sound! Not sure what it does, but it's like totally the coolest sound ever.

And I freaking love it. Not just because it's a car, but because it's one badass car. I never actually knew that I could care anything about a car, but thank you to my new Audi, Babs, for showing me a side of me that I never thought I had. I'm looking forward to the plethora of speeding tickets that we are sure to rack up in Richmond - the town of the 25mph speed limit.

Now, I do not consider myself a particularly materialistic individual, and I'm rarely one to be "trendy", atleast I think that's what the kids call it these days, but there's something about getting behind the wheel of a sweet ride and basking in the glory that it's all mine, I bought it for myself. I am an In-De-Pen-Dent woman. Girl Power. I depend on me. And whatever other feministic quotation popular music has produced in the last 15 years. I will play all those sweet jams on my bitchin' sound system..

As an ode to my new wheels, I've decided to lay down a few simple ground rules. And for anyone who ever knew of my old Scion, I hope that you will be as amused as I am that there are now stated rules around the existence of my car. This isn't the same dog hair covered, softball equipment toting, no oil change in 2 years shell that I had no qualms about running over curbs with. I now completely understand and encourage the driver who parks at the back of the parking lot across 2 spaces in order to preserve the integrity of each precious angle of their automobile.


Rule #1- There will be NO eating in the Audi. 10 hour road trip? I suggest you consume a healthy portion of protein for breakfast, because there will not be any roadside Pizza flavored Combos brought into the vehicle. A stop at McDonalds? Don't be surprised if I let you out and then ditch you when I go to "park the car". Going out for ice cream on a hot summer eve? I suggest you scarf the entire cone between the cash register and the walk back to the car. Allow me to reiterate...THERE WILL BE NO FOOD IN THE AUDI!

Rule #2- There will be NO drinking in the Audi. Drinks are liquid, and liquids spill, that's just standard science, read any 4th grade text book (actually, don't bother, just take my word for it). You will be granted 1 (one) half filled bottle of water, provided that it has a secured sports top properly affixed in compliance with National Water Bottle Board regulations. Why a half bottle? Excellent question, allow me to move right into the next rule...

Rule #3- There will be NO peeing in the Audi. This applies to anyone and everyone, man and dog alike. Let's assume I decide to take this badass piece of automotive machinery on a road trip and we hit a stretch of I-85 where it's 40 miles to the next rest stop; I don't like them odds. So instead of playing a game of Russian Roulette with the bladder gods, there will be limited intake of H2O if you wish to roll with me and Babs. I expect Mickey to be most impacted by this one.

Rule #4- There will be NO loitering near the Audi. If everyone could just do me a solid and agree to keep a safe perimeter around Babs when she is in Park, that would be stellar. This will prevent me from having to invest in a makeshift safety perimeter that I will store, pull out of the trunk and post upon any trip in public...thereby alienating any of my friends who have already voiced rather strong opinions around "no longer wanting to be seen in public" with me. I'm not sure I can afford the decrease in social activity. Your cooperation in this matter would be greatly appreciated.



I've only had her for about 3 days now, so I'm still finalizing the governing bylaws. For any other OCD, type A car owners out there, are there any additional rules that I should be invoking? Any other simple rules to high strung car ownership of which I should be aware?

Alright, enough crazy for one night. Off to bed so that I can rest up to be in top driving condition for tomorrow. Oh, Rule #5, no fatigued driving.