Smiffbib

Mar 27 2012

I’m not a number!

Author: Kerry

…. Soooo something interesting is going on in this brain of mine… I work in social media… for the greatest company in the world… and we started judging our online strategies and partners based on how many followers they had… and how many views something had… and spending money based on that… but then we got a negative mention on a blog.. .and sure enough… she had 60,000 followers… panic ensued…. I took a closer look… 60,000 followers… and no comments on her blog… 60,000 followers and I had never heard of her… So I began to do some research… I found companies that sell followers for an extremely low price… shell accounts essentially… and wondered how easy it was… In the sense of full disclosure I tweeted what I was doing and tested it out… Yep! sure enough… New followers… I went through the painstaking process of deleting them so that I wasnt misrepresenting myself… but then something weird happened… I got more followers… I can only assume that this is because I suddenly showed up on the recommendation list to a bunch of other shell account followers because I certainly didn’t ask for them… at one point… I’m thinking I pissed someone off by testing this theory… So I woke up to another 1000 followers this morning… and a coupon code tweeted to me if I want more… Ooohhh Proactive advertising of fake people… I stayed awake last night thinking about this… Tweeted openly about it… because I can’t tell who is fake or real anymore… and Decided something…. I am not a number… My influence is not decided by my followers… My opinion isn’t less important… and my ideas are certainly not less genius… So… before you judge me.. By my many followers (I think about 1150 of them are real LOL) …. In fact…. Reach > Following … and one has nothing to do with the other…. Next I will research the buying of Klout points… Dont tell me who the experts are… or suggest that I am not one!

Mar 26 2012

The Host Teaser Trailer!!

Author: Kerry

blink blink… double take… is that… OMG!! Look what is featured on Yahoo today!

http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/the-host-2013/trailers/the-host-teaser-trailer-28696984.html

Here is the post I wrote about the book eons ago… and Why it is better than Vampires with Morals 🙂

 

Maybe I am Crazy… (original post May, 2008)

I am a little embarrased about my obsession- I am 34 years old, working in a very rewarding job, with wonderful children/husband, and am always striving to better myself….. So MAYBE that explains as I write this how maybe I struggle admitting my teenage like hysterical reaction to some things…..I know many of us have ranted and raved about the Stephanie Meyers Twilight series (So maybe my midlife obsession with a book written for teenagers isnt an uncommon thing)…. Maybe I was rather offended when in the middle of the count down to the new book, as well as the movie that she had worked on something else… Maybe I thought – How could she when all of us are waiting patiently for the fourth installment of the Bella/Edward/Jacob saga?

And then… There I was, shopping at costco on mothersday, spotted that book that new book ..There it was just sitting on the book table … SCREAMING MY NAME … Maybe i thought to myself… No way! Aliens? … But then again Maybe I purchased it… and Maybe I read it… maybe losing sleep to do so… maybe unable to put it down…. Maybe crying at the end … maybe not that little tear that escapes my eye and runs down my cheek…. no no…. maybe those overwhelming uncontrollable sobs… maybe you know the kind.

Maybe it is just where I am in my life right now… Maybe it just said somethings that I needed to hear, maybe it gave me a perspective on mankind that I could relate too, and gave me a goal of what I want to be like, Maybe it was BEAUTIFUL! Maybe it defined service, Maybe it touched on the deepest kind of love, Maybe I am still so shocked that I like this author SO much (maybe it is admittedly a little out of my norm) Maybe I relate to the characters so much because I am so blessed with people in my life. Maybe if I let go of all my weird pretenses about such a book…. and acknowledge that someone (named stephanie meyers) is masking these amazing truths in stories that young people (and old people apparently) will read… Maybe we are all being tricked into having spiritual experiences while reading a cheesy sounding sci-fi?
Maybe you better read it

And Now maybe you better see it!!! … Maybe then we can discuss …. Nature of man… Good Vs. Evil …I believe we are all the souls that are innately good.

Mar 21 2012

This was our moment

Author: Kerry

The Traveling Red Dress… A Story… Within a Story… With in a Story

I can’t read this post without tearing up a little each time… Watched the TRD community page for weeks on Facebook… peeked at others Red dress moments… shopped for dresses online… as if I would ever really purchase one… Shared the story with every female friend of mine that I ever thought could use a Red Dress moment… and then one day… This (through a series of events) was sent to me … And I knew my weeks of lurking were over… because honestly, I know everyone feels this way… But I am special…  She inspires me to believe that I can do anything…  more than a box of wine… or 6 vanilla soy lattes… or a good rap session on the freeway commuting into the office… . So I wouldn’t let myself chicken out of… ‘cause I just want to be like The Bloggess that much! So I tried it on

Headless Red Dress

It Fit! Next, I made the arrangements with my soul sister, and set the date and time… and informed her she too would be wearing the dress… Well mostly…#1 because she needs a red dress moment, and doesn’t know it and  even more to the point #2 because then I have equal amounts of pictures of her in said ball gown… should she ever feel the need to show them to anyone. That’s just what kind of friends we are. 

I was a little nervous (Nervous means I didn’t sleep for two days and was irrationally crying a little each time I scaled laundry mountain… since I had failed to properly do laundry  since I found out the dress was coming.. and the dishes … and cooking… The local Indian Restaurant  which I highly recommend knows my voice and calls me by name when I call for take-out) But I hopped in the shower Sunday morning without a care in the world… and exited the shower a hysterical mess…. drying off my shoulders I took a good look at the war wounds there… The claw like stretch marks… the vertical evenly spaced scars on top of them… then let my eyes travel over the rest of me…  They are everywhere… things that I hate… a lump.. a fold.. a wrinkle.. a scar… a bruise.. a freckle… pulled out a unwanted hair and completely melted down… I made my way from the bathroom to my bedroom unseen and climbed back into bed… water drops changing the color of my lavender sheets to a dark purple…. And sobbed … I wish I could tell you I forced myself up and into my car… But I didn’t… I reached for my phone and text said soul sister that perhaps we should catch up on sleep instead… that I didn’t think I felt too well…. And her response was this… and I quote “NO! I have been looking forward to it all week! GET over here NOW!”… so I threw back on my pajamas… grabbed all my makeup…yet somehow no bra…. attempted to get out of the house without alerting smallest child and Mr. Amazing to the streams of tears and shaking hands…. I tried to get out, but Mr. Amazing can spot me from a mile away… I hoarsely ask him to load the gown in my car for me… Which he responds “of course” and I grab the stunningly beautiful Red Pashmina he had overnighted to the house for the occasion… Knowing this moment would be likely… Seeing as the dress was strapless… and he tells me it will be okay.. that he loves me so so so much (he really says so three times, god I love him)…. and that I don’t have to show them to anyone if I don’t like them.. and he finds my camera for me… my special camera that means so much … it reminds me of my grandpa… and he texts me before I can arrive at the house around the corner to make sure I am okay… surprisingly,  I was.

We primped and prepped and talked about our kids… We had grown up together.. and so had our kids… I wonder if our kids’ kids will… wouldn’t that be amazing? I bet it totally happens… And then magic took place… We each took a turn in this Red dress… giggled and laughed and complemented each other.. posed… and might’ve jumped on the bed… took a million pictures… pretended to drink straight from a bottle with the label turned so you couldn’t see it was apple cider instead of whiskey… Danced… folded laundry…

Red Dress Collage

I then pulled my grey man hoodie over this amazingly magical gown.. and ran through the snowy march afternoon to my car with bare feet and drove back around the corner so that smallest child… who I have convinced I am allergic to dresses (also the color pink, glitter, lace, princesses, Barbies,  Lalaloopsies …the list is added to frequently) see me in the dress… (Mr. Amazing said wow!)  She loved it! And wanted it to be hers… but she is five… and has no concept of size and proportions… It would never fit her… She wanted to have a tea party… and I quickly agreed… She went and tossed on a  “Tiana” dress up gown.. and I put on pajamas…with a matching tiara.

I know I don’t have to share these… But I’m not coming this far without showing them off… Magic!

 

Story #2

So, my BFF calls me one day. Yes, I am almost 40 years old. Yes, I said BFF. She tells me about this red dress that we are going to take turns wearing. We are going to get together and do our hair and make-up and act like girls. Notice I didn’t say ask? She knows the only thing I will say “NO!” to her for is setting me up on a blind date. *That’s a different blog*

After expressing to my tweenage daughter that I feel like I had turned into a fat frumpy old mom and her response was, “Feel?” … I knew I needed this. Work, kids, men and life have a way of consuming a woman and I had let it! Text to catch up on sleep? Hell no!! I bought make-up for this!!

For as long as she and I have known each other, we had never done anything like this before. We are not girly girls, hoodies and jeans please! There were no kids, no men, we turned up the radio and giggled as we put on our make-up and curled our hair. I wore the dress first. I absolutely hate my flabby arms, but I didn’t care in the magic dress! It transformed me! I tried to take serious pictures, but if you were to see the ones I was smiling in, it was actually an evil laugh. She was screaming at me because I was having too much fun taking my own pictures with the camera on my phone!

Then it was her turn. She was beautiful! She looked like Snow White with her black hair and bright red dress!

She wanted to take lighthearted funny pictures, not serious ones like I did. Then I leave her alone with my phone and she takes pictures of herself just like she screamed at me for!! They were AMAZING! There is something about taking your own picture that captures what no one else can!

~The Soul Sister

Mar 21 2012

Smiffbib – A History Lesson

Author: Kerry

Have you ever asked your child not to talk back… ever answered the petulant “don’t care” with… then you wont care if I throw this toy away… how many times have you said “don’t you tell me no!” …. Usually it is the parent that has to come up with creative ways to make these conversations take a constructive turn and try to instill respect for others balanced with enough self respect to speak your mind and value your own feelings. Not me, Not with my son… after several of these run ins…at the expected ages of somewhere in between 2 and 3ish … one day I softly tell my son… again… that while it is okay to feel anger, it is not okay to express it in such a way that would send a buzz light year action figure sailing through the air at his teen aged hormone enraged sister, who is really too old to be drawn into this pissing match by a toddler… but that is another entry…. His entire face turned red in frustration… his lower lip was shaking knowing he was in control of this ending in a simple time out… or turning into a full fledged meltdown whilst said sister watched with a satisfied smirk… and in that moment I watched that tiny lil cherub face skewed into a demonic expression as he has  this battle of wills… I wondered if he was literally biting his tongue to keep from speaking… I had always wondered if that was just an expression… when he whispered the word “smiffbib”… what? i said? I hadn’t understood him… oh wait… because it made no sense and I had never heard this before… “Smiffbib” he said more clearly… “is that all you have to say for yourself?” I asked… puzzled… but impressed that he hadn’t screamed no… or thrown his little body on the floor in a seizure like spasm… “Yes.. that’s it… Smiffbib” and he smiled as he walked over to serve his time out sentence… I knew then… that he had won… I wasn’t sure at what yet.. I mean.. he was doing his time out… he was not spewing hate at his sister… or myself as sometimes toddlers do… He was quietly sitting in timeout for his three minutes and not making a dive for that god forsaken buzz light year that he has been dragging around since birth to save it from being taken away for the rest of the day…. but clearly from his actions…. he was sure he had won…. I have the clarity of mind to take this out he has given me.. and let it go… turning on the sister to remind her she is the older one… and to act like it… and leave the room to finish dishes before the drawn out whine of ” bbbbuuuuutttt Moooommmmmm” has finished escaping her mouth… And completely forget the incident…. MY son however did not…. A few weeks later I am telling him through an exhausted haze my practiced speech of if he doesn’t get out of the bathtub he will catch a cold… all the heat is clearly gone from the water… it is colder than room temperature… and I am holding a towel open for him to come to wrap in and get warm… when he says it again… “Smiffbib”….. What? this time I smile… so the first time wasn’t an accident… I was right… He had concocted something I couldn’t yet understand…. Do you want to catch a cold and go to the doctor? “Smiffbib mom”…. “Son”… exasperated… “don’t make me count”… He doesn’t, he rarely does… he is an extraordinarily well behaved child… we joke about it … its actually a little terrifying… He has never pushed a child in line for the slide… taken a toy from another child… hit … bit…. spit… nothing… the only time he resembles what you would expect from a happy healthy little rascal is all reserved for his sister… who he worships… and follows… and cries for.. and laughs for.. and loves more than I ever thought possible…. She taught him to write his name as a surprise for me… they worked on it for weeks… his name has 18 letters… they sing a song about everything… when they walk around the block together and I have the windows open I can hear them coming… Singing in a war cry kind of march… “Were almost home… Were almost home”! .. They build forts… they play games… They are not both from my womb… but they don’t act like it… and as crazy as a teen can drive a young mother… her relationship with him saves her life more than once …. Smiffbib became a house hold word… it spread from my vocabulary to that of my friends… making several Facebook status updates… It made me angry several times when it was a brush with danger that was met with that response… and made me giggle when overheard in play… Ive heard it given in advice …. “Sometimes you just have to say Smiffbib”… I hear told to another that is worried about what people think about her…. And one time it made me cry… after his surgery… when they took out the tumor… and I was rubbing vitamin E on his little incision in his five year old crook of his neck… “Does that hurt angel boy? I’m so sorry” he was cringing… “Smiffbib”…. It gets retired sometimes… for a year or two… He is highly offended when he hears others use it… It belongs to him … Until the day we bought the domain… He is twelve now… and intends to get it in Webster’s dictionary… Smiffbib has several meanings… it means No, I don’t care, you cant make me, I feel sorry for myself, I have too much pride, This argument is over, I’m at the end of my rope, but what it really means… is I may have to conform… You may think you can domesticate me like some kind of wild animal… and you can force me to behave.. and teach me these rules that I will not break… but you can’t kill my individuality… you can’t squash my spirit… Smiffbib…. The socially acceptable “Fuck you”.