: a game of tag, you’re it :

I was tagged by mild-mannered Lenore Diane — sweet, thoughtful Lenore. What does getting tagged mean? I’m not entirely sure, I’m new to this kind of thing. But from what I can gather, when a person gets tagged, they have to answer the eleven questions posed by the tagger.  Then make up eleven new questions and tag eleven new people. In other words, an online chain letter.

I’m not much for rules, so I’ve decided to tag everyone who stumbles into this post unaware. You’re all it!

Ready? Here are my answers to Lenore Diane’s questions:

1. What is your favorite color, and what do you think it would taste like?
That would be Pantone Orange 021 and it would taste like Froot Loops.
2.  Do you sleep on your left side, right side, back or stomach?
All of the above, thank you. I’m a very active and indiscriminate sleeper.
3.  Do you floss your teeth?
I do, with kite string. Sometimes fishing line.
4.  Do you close the lid before flushing the toilet?
Wait, there’s a lid?
5.  How many times a day do you brush your teeth?
Nine, ten if a dessert is served.
6.  How many times have you brushed your hair today? If you are follicle-challenged, how many times have you rubbed your bald head?
Let’s see, this is Wednesday, so once.
7.   Do your feet smell? (Go ahead and check, we’ll wait.)
How dare you!
8.   Do you have any Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in your freezer? May I have it?
I do not. This is February,
9.  If you notice food stuck between someone’s teeth – do you make an effort to tell him/her? If not, why are you so cruel?
I don’t bother with telling them, no, I just go in after it.
10.  What feature do you most like about me?
Hmm, that’s a toss-up between your sparkling wit and your dimples.
11.  Don’t you think I should be discovered, while I sit doing nothing, and become famous for my writing?
I do and I bet you’d be discovered faster if you sat doing nothing in a bikini on the porch. 

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And here are my eleven questions for all of you:

1. What’s the last thing you do before going to bed?

2. When, in your life, were you the happiest?

3. What was your college major?

4. What person, living or dead, do you think had the biggest impact on the world?

5. Have you ever said no to a marriage proposal?

6. What brand of shoes are you wearing right now?

7. Where in the world would you like to work? (Personally I’d like to work at the Louvre in Paris or at Pixar Studios)

8. Do you have a favorite time of day?

9. If you could give yourself a nickname, what would it be?

10. Who is your favorite author?

11. Which one of the Seven Dwarfs is your favorite?

Good luck, everyone.

Copyright © Publikworks 2012.

Merry Christmas To All

: a vote for ketchup :

Do you remember the post, please put down the ketchup? Did you like it? Enough to vote for it in the transatlantic diablog awards? I did, but that’s just me.

If you’d like to get in on the voting, too, you can cast your ballot here. For me, publikworks, or the nominee of your choice. There are quite a few good ones, you should check out Not War and Peace and Peas And Cougars. Fortunately you have a week to make up your mind.

Oh, and remember, vote early and vote often (it’s anonymous and completely legal). Thank you for your support.

: a little sunday fun :

First, let’s take a look at the new short from Pixar:

Okay, let’s move on to online pranks. They’re a great way to liven up a lazy Sunday afternoon. Let’s begin with google easter eggs:

• Go to google and type a-s-k-e-w in the search box. It’s silly, but entertaining.

• Go to google and type illuminati in backwards and add .com. See where it takes you.

• For google chrome users, type do a barrel roll in the search box. Then hang on.

> Now head over to Wistia, a video-hosting site, and their About page. While the rollover function is perky and bouncy, try typing in D-A-N-C-E.  http://wistia.com/about/team

> Think you’ve seen all the great 404 messages? Here’s one you might’ve missed: http://www.apartmenthomeliving.com/404.html

: quick, cover your ears :

We’ve been meeting for breakfast every morning since forever. Once in a while we get together for lunch, too, or dinner. Sometimes all three. I like them, they’re good company and sparkling conversationalists.

I’m talking about Rice Krispies. I’ve considered adding other cereals for variety’s sake and I’ve tried a bunch of them. In fact, I used to be a fan of Captain Crunch Berries, but they got ‘improved’. They weren’t the same after that.

Rice Krispies, on the other hand, have escaped relatively unchanged. They still chatter amiably, Snap! Crackle! Pop!, all through breakfast.

But there was one time when I got a bad box and, as soon as I poured the milk, they let loose with a string of expletives unheard since the Nixon tapes. My jaw dropped. And I swear Pop! pulled a butter knife on me. They’d gone bad.

You expect that kind of thing from the likes of Count Chocula or maybe Frankenberry. I could even see the Trix rabbit or the Cocoa Puffs dude going off the deep end. They don’t seem all that stable to begin with. In fact, just having them in the house made me uneasy. I half-expected them to come busting out of the cupboard in a demented frenzy and take the dog hostage.

You don’t expect such behavior from the Rice Krispies boys. They’re the Eddie Haskells of the cereal world — you know, “lovely dress you’re wearing today, Mrs. Cleaver.” Brown-nosers and apple polishers. I mean, look at their hats, for pete’s sake — a band leader (or else a bell hop), a baker, and a stocking cap. Not exactly biker helmets are they?

That one bad box? Well, that had to be an anomaly. They were way past their expiration date. Plus they’d been hanging around on the same shelf with Raisin Bran and Grape-Nuts, a couple of hard-core agitators. Of course they turned surly, who wouldn’t? All has been forgiven and Rice Krispies are back in the house. All is right with the world.

Copyright © Publikworks 2011.

: spam? email or canned? :

Really, how do you know? While this is often a topic of conversation, it’s tough to know which spam is being discussed if you come in in the middle. Or if you like to eavesdrop.

“Spam is killing me!” Bummer, which spam? Either one could be responsible.

Hormel, maker of the tinned variety, has surrendered their trademark protection fight. The company now only asks that all capital letters be used when writing about their product: SPAM. To be followed by a noun such as Luncheon Meat.

The problem there is, we don’t have dialogue balloons over our heads. And no one would actually say, “What? SPAM Luncheon Meat again?” The issue, in my opinion, remains unresolved.

Xerox and Kleenex, they mostly won their battles against becoming a generic term. We copy documents now, instead of Xeroxing. We ask for a tissue, rather than a Kleenex.

But spam, as a synonym for junk email, caught on fast and spread like wildfire. Hormel didn’t have a chance, it was a losing battle from the start. For making the term so freaking popular, Hormel blames Monty Python. Do you wonder why?

Copyright © Publikworks 2011.

: dear sir or madam :

If I was a machinist, a truck driver, or a welder, I’d have my pick of jobs. Even in this burg, skilled labor positions are readily available. Oh, and anything to do with healthcare — RNs, sonographers, radiology techs. They can write their own tickets.

A writer? Not so much.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, is interested in a copywriter. Not even the old stand-bys, like advertising and marketing. Although technical writing, from what I understand, is in a growth mode. But you need experience, you need samples of your work, you need a technical, logical mind: fit Tab A into Slot B. I’m not technical, no, I think I’m funny. I’d keep trying to punch it up: fit Tab A into Slot B — wait, there is no Tab A, fooled you.

Humor + Technical Writing = Short Career

With such limited demand for my, ahem, skills, I’ve decided to pursue career opportunities in other fields. Therefore and ergo, I’ll be submitting my resumé to the producers at Sixty Minutes, for the position being vacated by Andy Rooney. Sitting behind a desk and mouthing off would not be entirely unfamiliar. Having an attentive audience, yes, that would be new.

I’d need some eyebrow extensions, of course, and some tired, tweed-y business apparel, otherwise I’m good. There are plenty of things to complain about. Plenty. Store brands, for example. Grocers have stopped selling the brands we like to make room for their own high-profit, low quality, even lower taste brands. That just chaps my cheeks. See? Doesn’t take much to activate my hot button.

Had I been quicker on the trigger I’d have shot off a resumé to the International Monetary Fund, but I hear the Managing Director position has been filled. Unfortunate, since I have a keen and abiding interest in monetary funds. International or national, whichever, I’m an indiscriminate and unapologetic fan of the monetary.

New positions open up every day and I’ve got a stack of resumés ready to go. Queen Elizabeth has to retire sometime, you know.

Copyright © Publikworks 2011.

: as the channel changes :

There’s something to be said for daily routines; they’re familiar territory in a chaotic landscape. Oh, don’t pretend you don’t have one, we all do. We’re creatures of habit, you and I and the other humans. We start off with a morning routine and wind down with a bedtime ritual.

In between we slip comfortably into the same everyday patterns: we take our coffee the same way, use the same brand of toothpaste, go to the same barber, watch the same shows. Our routines speed us through the day on automatic pilot.

Then. Along comes fall with its all-new season of all-new shows at all-new times, and — kablooie. There goes your carefully crafted, oh-so-familiar routine, right out the window. Great, now how will I know what time it is? Or what day it is? Nothing is where it’s supposed to be. My cues are gone and everything’s out of whack.

The spiffy, new fall schedule, with all its changes and additions and cancellations, is disorienting. And, may I add, uninspired? It’s also a nasty reminder that I watch way too much television.

As a result of this upheaval, I’m perpetually tardy for social functions. The dog doesn’t get walked. And the days run together, each one indistinguishable from the next. I show up for church on Tuesday, the post office on Sunday, and miss book club altogether. I’m early for luncheons and late to weddings, a no-show at parties.

Autumn has become, for me, a season of cold shoulders and sincere apologies.

However, with the passage of time, a dependable pattern will slowly emerge and a new routine will fall into place. All will again be right be the world. Just in time for the holiday specials and prime time football games to throw a heavy, clanking wrench into the works. Ha-ppy New Year!

Copyright © Publikworks 2011.

I’d like to welcome my new subscribers and friends to the pages and posts of publikworks. Feel free to make yourself comfortable and help yourself to refreshments. If, at any time, you’d like to make a suggestion or air a grievance, please raise your hand. I’d like to thank you, as well, for the many comments and ‘likes’ you’ve so generously showered on me. The attention has been gratifying and very, very unexpected. It’s been quite a trip.

And now, without further adieu, new content.

Copyright © Publikworks 2011.

What’s taking so long?

It’s my fault, forgive me. I got lost on my way here, completely and totally lost. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing yet and that might be the problem. For most of the evening I’ve been crashing around in here, hoping to find my way. Sadly, I can’t report much success. Technology is definitely not my strong suit and I just kind of jumped in blind. But with both feet.

The truth is, this page may never see the light of day. It could be a complete exercise in futility — so much of what I do is anymore. So I’ll tell you this for free: life is very, very hard, probably three times harder, when you’re stoopid. Trust me on that, I speak from experience. So stay in school (although it didn’t seem to help me much) and think before you speak or act. That’s the best advice I can give you today.

With any luck your wait will be worth it. That’s my goal, anyway, so please bear with me and come back again when I know what I’m doing. Wait, no, what am I saying? Please come back way sooner than that.

And now, I’ll bid you a fond adios with a pithy quote from that witty and delightfully madcap Arnold ‘the Terminator’ Schwarzenegger: “l’ll be back.”