Monthly Archives: November 2009

Rock Paper Scissors is Stupid

There are so many things in life that we are asked to accept just because everybody else does.  By nature, we resist change, and we squirm at the idea of discomfort. I’m lucky enough to work in an industry that authorizes creativity, fosters evolution and forces change.

I caught the end of a super-inspiring movie the other night, Notorious, the life story of Biggie Smalls. I had hoped that the ending would turn out differently than it did, but what can you do? Anyhow, the movie was an overall mess, in my opinion. But it did a good job of reinforcing an overall theme that was upheld by the late and great B.I.G.: “You can’t change the world if you can’t change yourself.”

Statistically, it takes 21 days to form a habit – good or bad. Implementing long-term change will take more than just “a go at it.” It will demand dedication, repetition and enthusiasm. (And in my opinion, that last element trumps all others).

I have no idea where the piece below came from. It’s followed me to three different jobs – it hangs next to my computer. It’s my unorthodox reminder that when it comes to change, anything is fair game – including the timeless game of R.P.S.

It also reminds me that we can easily find ourselves doing illogical things when we stop asking questions. There’s almost always another route. And as the case may be, the alternate route is probably painful, distressing and vulgar – But it’s also probably well worth it in the end.

 

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Stripper Shoe Sunday

While in Wichita this past weekend, we ate breakfast at the local Home Town Buffet. I like that place for a variety of reasons. The food is never-ending, the English muffins are grilled and the milk supply is limitless.

The typical Sunday HTB crowd is elderly and/or disabled (not exactly sure what that says about us, but whatever). This mix of people, coupled with the 50’s pop elevator music that plays over the audio system, makes for a fairly calm and uneventful dining experience. Every once in awhile, however, a primo people watching opportunity will walk through the door.

For example, I dubbed this past Sunday “Stripper Shoe Sunday” at HTB.  I saw my first stripper-shoe patron upon seating myself with my first plate of food. She was wearing black patent leather stiletto stripper shoes, with hot-pink heels. She wore skin-tight jeans (at least two sizes too small) and a see-through baby-doll  T-shirt that showed off her brassiere. She sat at a table with 5 small children and a man. Although she did look like she could have been a stripper, she didn’t much walk like a stripper. Maybe I’m being presumptuous, but it seems to me that a stripper (of all people) would know how to walk in stripper shoes. This gal did not. She stomped around the restaurant, filling wee glasses of OJ for the kiddos, and piling up plates of waffles for herself. She was a sight to see.

But then, about ten minutes later, another lady walked in wearing a pair of brown and tan stripper shoes. This lady carried herself in a much more professional manner. I thought to myself, “This chicky may not be a stripper at all – she may indeed be a professional.” Without asking – something I was not willing to do – I just couldn’t be for sure. But I was pretty positive this lady was not on her way to church.

I’ve never been really big on shoes. I know some ladies collect shoes like I collect free pens, but I’m more the type to find a couple pairs I like (usually a black pair and a brown pair), and stick with them until the very end. Loved ones end up having to pry my old, worn out shoes from my hands – or take them from me when I’m not looking and throw them in the trash.

But this HTB Stripper Shoe Sunday event really made me feel like I was missing out on something. These ladies had such fun, sexy shoes. Does that mean that they have fun, sexy lives, too? I’ve never owned a pair of stripper shoes. But if I had a pair, would I be a fun, sexy person? If I had a pair, would I strap them on, head out to the grocery store, and strut around like a proud peacock? Would I get all dolled up on Sunday morning, in my Sunday best, to hit up the local HTB?

This lady wore her stripper shoes to the last trade show I attended. She was working the booth. I saluted this lady for wearing these shoes all day long at a trade show. You go girl.

Trade Show Pumps

(Ever get to the bottom of your blog, and then realize that there’s a good chance it makes next to no sense to anybody but yourself? I’m afraid that just might happen here.)

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