Helpful Phrases For Small Talk Scenarios

Chit chat. Small talk. It serves a purpose, but there's a reason it makes us yawn and roll our eyes when we think about it. All you're doing is saying the same thing each time, and wasting the precious brain cells you still have by uttering inane comments.

Here is my gift to you: a series of responses that you can memorize and use, allowing your brain to focus on quantum physics or the last episode of Dance Moms. Also, if you get the delivery right, you won't have to worry about making small talk much longer.

Please note: while these are conversations I often have, your experience may vary -- so please feel free to adapt them.

"How are you doing today?"
"[fill in long explanation with unnecessary details and tears]"

"What are your plans for this afternoon?"
See above.

"Your hair is amazing!"
"That's what I said to the last owner."

"You're kind of conceited."
"Yes."

"What great weather we're having!"
"It's a trap -- they want you lulled into a false sense of security before they unleash the zombies."

"Would you like the ravioli packaged to go?"
"No, I plan to grill it immediately -- I hear it tastes best that way."

"So what do you do for a living?"
"I've found eating food and sleeping regularly to be highly successful for me."

"Is that debit or credit?"
"Klout, actually."

"Hi, my name is [name]. It's so great to meet you!"
"It's great to meet you, too. Good thing I won't remember your name, so we can do this again."


Okay, so my idea of "small talk" extends to nearly "all talk." But I find the above responses infinitely helpful in sparing my brain the pain of ordinary responses. Tell me in the comments -- what do you (or have you) said in a common chit chat scenario?

Getting All Bent Into Shape

There have been all sorts of sicknesses in my office the last few weeks. I'm pretty sure I've been exposed to the cold virus, whatever new strain exists of swine flu, and the black plague. I mentioned this when I went to the chiropractor yesterday, and he told me it was a smart move on my part to come visit him. Getting your spine aligned helps your immune system, he assured me.

Well, smart me was pretty happy that less-smart-me had scheduled the appointment a month earlier.

Here's what he didn't tell me: your emotions live in your spine. And when you get your vertebrae crackling and lined up, you're releasing all sorts of feelings into your nerves and blood and whatnot -- and who knows how much build up is in there.

If you're a robot it's no big deal. In fact, if you're a robot you probably don't even need a chiropractor and you're totally getting gypped. But if you're a female, you are in TROUBLE.

It's like when you have plaque built up in your veins and it releases and clogs an artery and you have a heart attack and die. Kind of. And I think you get plaque in your veins but that might only be your teeth, but you get the idea -- this is all very sciencey so trust me on it.

So after getting my back adjusted yesterday, I felt awesome... for half an hour. My hips were aligned -- better for swaying, I say -- my back was straight-ish, and my shoulders weren't hunched into some painful-looking posture.

Then: everyone was terrible and mean to me. Even the people who were nice were only that way because they were afraid of being honest about their repulsion of me and that made me want to kick them. When my father offered to give me a cordless drill I assumed it was to write messages in people's car doors who were clearly against me (the offer of the drill was rescinded). The weather was gross on purpose to make me sad and the stores didn't have clothes or shoes I wanted out of spite. SPITE.

Even chocolate was against me, I could tell.

And then I realized: I didn't feel this way before my back was cracked earlier in the day. My agile mind put 2 and 2 together and realized what had happened.



Chiropractors need to come with surgeon general warnings.

Spandex Disco Pants!

That's what the email subject line read: "spandex disco pants!" Clearly, this was an email I needed to read.

Turns out that because of this blog right here, I was discovered by American Apparel in Switzerland. They're in DESPERATE need of models (let's face it: all the tall blondes there are kind of mutants), and they came across my website and knew I might have what it takes to model SPANDEX DISCO PANTS and make them super popular with the blonde mutants.

Oh baby, can I ever.

Pictures like this must have been what sealed the deal.

Let me share the email that is about to launch my modeling career.

Hy Christina!

i saw in a blog your answer , which has re

Hello!

My name is Danijel and

I am a fashion creator and i work for various fashion centres in switzerland. At the moment i have a job from american apparel switzerland.

They opened 2 stores last year! I really dont know how is that whit these spandex dicco pants by you over there, but here in switzerland these pants are not famous! Thats the reason because i need you!

It would be not a problem, to fînd a model here for a shooting but for only these few pics that we need, we really dont want to waist our time. we are salers no photographers :) So i have the exercise to find some girls, which want show us some pisc. We must search on the web, because here is nobody waer these pants. We want to improve the situation on the market, and thats difficult whit only 2 stores! Our sector is especially the DISCO PANT and SPANDEX LEGGINGS! We want to bring these trend back in live!

And now that, what interest you:

why you? we have 2 things what we want to do whit your pics if we like them:

1. we manufactured posters of you and show these as advertisements.( one for example infront of each store).

2. we bring you into our fashionmagazine 2010 for our clients.

and another important: if we will choose you, you get a prize of 250 swiss francs!

At the moment we have 3 girls, wich send us some photos.

Deadline is the end of Januar!

-we choose 3 pics, in front, from back and from side (thats the stances).

-Its not important where do you make the pics, but you must be the only person on picture.

The pictures must be clear!!!

-If you decide to send us some pics of you, look that is the pant tight on you, and if you wear a shirt or a pullover look thats no longer until your hips!

( we must see the pant)

-and please dont forget: only black spandex disco pants and Leggings

For last: dont think to much!

This organisation is only for us. Much more pics we have, much more we can choose and your chances are better.

You have few pics on your blog, but these are not right for us!

Take a digital camera and lets make some pics of you.

Sorry for this long long mail but now you know more and all important things.

Hope you understand???

And I really want you for our publicity because you looks great!

Its dont a joke!!! please give me an anwser, ok?

And really, you have talent for this bussines, i see this.

greeting, Danijel

Obviously, I got on this opportunity immediately. Here was the response I just sent.

Hi, Danijel,

Thanks for emailing me, I'm really excited about this! Ever since the car accident last year, where I lost my leg and both my eyebrows, it's been hard for me to find clothes that make me feel attractive and really complement my new body type. I can't wait to put on some disco pants, tie up the empty leg, and take some good photos to send you!

So when should I start packing for the fashion magazine shoots in Switzerland? If I'm going to move there to model disco pants, I think it's probably time to break up with my boyfriend. It's a new start for me anyway, and as a model I'm sure I'll find someone more attractive and with a better job than a doctor. Seriously, he's always performing life-saving surgery on some kid -- I'm tired of being ignored! This will show him!

Thank you for recognizing I'm more than a missing leg and a pretty face. I do have a talent for business, and I'm excited that I can get into this well-respected one. I have some big ideas for American Apparel, which I'm sure you're going to love. One freebie: elephant ear capes. Oh my gosh, it's going to be huge. Anyway, I should probably go ahead and find some disco pants and get started. Can't wait to see you! Ciao!

Christina

Readers: I could tell you otherwise, but it wouldn't be true. I'm totally going to forget you when I'm famous. Until then, however, I want to hear about the best email you've received from a complete stranger. Tell me in the comments!

I Take Notes

So because I'm super organized and have an iPhone, I regularly take cell-notes so I don't forget important things. These are a few of the items I felt it was important to record for future reference:

"Jews don't use reindeers, they drive Subarus." --my brother on the difference between Hanukkah and Christmas

"Hey! A finger peeler!" --my sister, on receiving a vegetable peeler

"We have a saying... 'It's like a dead man talking about cold butt cheeks.'" --a student, talking about who knows what

"Business opportunity: flame retardant underwear." --this seemed reasonable after the roller derby bout...

As you can see, I never forget a good idea. What are some of your winners?

Me And My Straight Teeth

Last week, a friend and I arranged to get together and make dinner. We hadn't seen one another in a long time and were looking forward to catching up.

She reminded me of a story I knew I had to tell all of you, because it really IS a "too pretty" moment.

My aforementioned friend hosted a birthday bash in early March. I knew her and a few of her friends, but having lived out of state for eight years, this wasn't a gathering of my closest and dearest.

Halfway through the evening, I was chit chatting on a couch with a few other people when I was targeted as an object of flirtation. Guy comes over, leans suavely on the back of the couch, and says:

"You have really straight teeth."

Me and my straight teeth.

What? Dude, if you want to use a memorable line, make sure it's memorable because I'm flattered and not because you come across like a moron.

I smile my tight-lipped I'm-pretending-to-be-nice smile, and told him my former orthodontist would be happy to hear it.

Since his first line didn't go over well, this guy reached into his bag of pick-up tricks for the next winner:

"You know, you look just like that girl from Sex and the City!"

Now I'm irritated, and decide that my good friend will either forgive me or stop inviting me to these things if I misbehave.

"Are you calling me a SLUT?" came the shrill response.

"What?! No, no... I meant that girl in the show! The one with the curly hair and shoes!" The guy fumbles, unsure why I'm not thrilled the way Dating for Dummies said I would be upon mention of Every Girl's Favorite Show.

"Well, now I know which slut you're comparing me to, so I guess that's good," I say, mentally adding that she's the one who cheated on Aidan and looks like a horse. "But she's not even one of the pretty ones."

"Uh..." he stutters, looking around desperately for help. His Ed Hardy-clad friends had vaporized, apparently, because he was all alone.

I took pity on his poor soul, and just turned around and began a conversation with a stunned onlooker. But I felt warm and fuzzy on the inside, which is what happens when you teach someone something valuable and improve their lives. Like Helen Keller's teacher, Annie Sullivan, or even Ron Clark today... same thing. This is what fulfills us.

Once an educator, always an educator.

The Fallen Hero

The last few days, I've been thinking about a post I wrote a few months back. It was about being the hero or heroine in your own story and life, and I still believe there are a lot of good things about that idea, like taking action and responsibility to make things happen.

But I think there are also some potential pitfalls.

I recently started reading The Hero With a Thousand Faces, by Joseph Campbell, which talks about the universal traits of a hero -- the characteristics that show up in every story, regardless of culture, of every man or woman who has been preserved in story. It's fascinating, but I came across something even more interesting:

The Tyrant.

Campbell refers specifically to King Minos, who started his own story as a hero. His people loved him, he won the favor of the gods... and then he started acting in selfishness.

The short version, for those who don't want an instant education in Greek mythology, is that his self-centered living resulted in the Minotaur, a monster that lived in an underground stone maze and was fed human sacrifices. And despite causing the death of countless innocents, King Minos continued to see himself as the hero.

I think that's still true today. People live their stories believing they are heroes, though they act as tyrants.

One way you can identify them is that they don't believe in other stories.

You are cast in their story, the one in which they are good and loved and wonderful even while they cause destruction everywhere. Your lack of faith in the tyrant's heroism might be seen as betrayal or disloyalty. But your choice to live your own story is one that infuriates the tyrant most.

And I think that may be the biggest fault of this fallen, misguided hero... the violence he or she commits in attempting to force one story on all.

As part of our own story and in our own journey, let us be careful in casting people too much in roles they may not want to live out.

Have you been dealing with tyrants, too?

I Would Text You Some Love

Aww, you all are so great!

I've been MIA the last few days because I started my new job on Wednesday, and have been busy trying to learn huge yachts of information... and then meeting up with friends after work. This is because 1) they all want to hang out now that I'm working nearby, and 2) they are worried that I will get lost on my way home from work and want to make sure I know where I'm going.

So it was AWESOME to return to this blog and, instead of dead desert with tumbleweeds rolling across the page, see all your encouraging comments. Thank you!

This would be much more impressive if I'd flipped the picture so you could read the text. Now you're going to have to try holding your screen up to a mirror or something.

About the new job: I'm conflicted about how much I should talk about it here. Not because I want to say bad things (I don't!), but because I want to take some time to decide how I'll define boundaries. I did that with my posts about teaching, too.

If you want to know the bare bones, you can get LinkedIn (shameless, but come on... you know you want to be professionally networked to me) and see where I'm working and my job title. To give that skeleton a tiny bit of cartilage, a lot of what I'll do every day involves writing, talking to people, and coming up with (hopefully) good ideas... fun stuff. Stuff I like to do even when I'm not getting paid.

How are all of you doing? Tell me in the comments! I'm trying to get caught up on reading all your blogs/Twitters/novels/etc., but even a teeny update would make me happiest of all Christinas.

Mishmash, Hodgepodge & Tarnation

You wonderful people who have kept coming to read even when I've been less than faithful in my writing? I just want you to know I love you. This post is a giant "THANK YOU," catch-up, and newsy bit.

Ready?

Thanks
First, thank you for reading! Yes, you! Because your comments and Twitter love keep inspiring me -- love it! Second, I have to thank a few people for the blog awards they generously threw my way.


This one came from Nathanael over at This Is How It Feels. Although we've argued over the best future locale for Sara, we're generally blog buddies and this is a huge compliment. Thanks!



I don't think Monique (aka the SurferWife) meant to give me both of these, but I'm the kind of girl who takes advantage of ambiguity and will claim ownership of BOTH. That's actually why she likes me in the first place, I think.

Who gets the next round of these babies? I'm sending all three the way of Sara Spelled Without an H, the Aspiring Fashionista, and Sizzle Says.

Catch-Up
I just wrote a review of soon-to-be published Will Jesus Buy Me a Double-Wide? ('Cause I Need More Room for my Plasma TV) by Karen Spears Zacharias. You can see it over at my other online home, Christina is Online.

Newsy-ness
If you've been following my saga, you know I recently moved to Washington State. Yay! And while I love the carefree lifestyle of unemployment (ha), I'm also happy to say I just accepted a new job! I start on Wednesday, and am looking forward to a new challenge.

What does that mean for this blog?

It will still be here. I will still be here. And I anticipate being able to post more regularly, because I'll have a stable schedule. So don't leave me (please!), because I want to grow old with you. Or... at least keep up the conversation. Okay?

Happy Monday!

I Think I'm A Flamingo

I've always liked the word "quirky."

It sounds fun and much more positive than "weird." And it's younger than "eccentric," which is my eventual life adjective goal.

Today I read a post by Glen Stansberry over at LifeDev.net about embracing the things that make a person unique. I admitted, in the comments and on Twitter, that lately I've been making zombie noises when I get frustrated (so basically a CONSTANT soundtrack of the undead).

And here, I reveal exclusively to you Too Pretty readers that I noticed that when I shower, I turn into a flamingo and insist upon standing on one leg. Sometimes I switch, but never do I have both legs supporting me at once. Safety first? Obviously not.

Another quirk? Taking super cheesy pictures... WHILE STANDING ON ONE LEG!

There is a part of me that does not want to embrace those quirks. Another part of me that sounds a lot like my brain says embracing the weirdness doesn't necessarily entail admitting to it on the internets. So why am I?

Because this is who I am.

And because I once got advice from someone much wiser than me when we spoke about the possibility of my non-acceptance into the doctoral program of my dreams. I explained how I was worried that maybe my area of study didn't fit the "theme" the selection committee had that year, and maybe they'd snicker at such a Scandinavian-named girl coming in wanting to research Jewish visual rhetoric.

"If those things are true, but you were accepted anyway, is that a place where you could thrive?" she asked.

I blinked uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean?"

"If their goal is to reproduce scholars similar to themselves, then they will do so and select the candidates they think best suited for that goal. But if they want to invest in students who will go out and find their own unique niches, they will again work to find candidates who are suited to do so. What kind of student and scholar would you prefer to be?"

"Well, obviously the second kind."

"Then whether or not you're accepted, it sounds like it will be the best situation for you."

Which is another way of saying that my quirks not only make it easier to pick me out of a crowd of bland, but they also work as a filter to protect me from people and situations and haircuts that aren't going to help. I just need to love my quirks and let them live in my life.

I guess admitting to a few of them is my first step.
===

I miss you all! So jump into the comments, say hello, and tell me about the quirks you're embracing.

Top 10 Too Pretty Posts of 2009

You know I'm not a resolutions girl, but I am all for Best Of compilations. So that's what we're doing today: celebrating the year's best Too Pretty posts.


What has been popular in 2009 around here? According to Google Analytics...

Why Am I Too Pretty For This? It's a good question.

A Week of Slight Improvements Apparently, I'm not the only one who avoids anything BUT baby steps.

3 Things You Can Do Today to Communicate Better If you're a regular reader, you know I like the number three.

What Daydreams Revealed It wasn't quite what I expected.

More Than a Haircut Donating my locks wasn't what I expected.

The Power of Hair We women like our hair, but I decided to get rid of mine.

PhD in Procrastinating I doubt I'm the only one with this degree.

45 Things That Don't Make Me Gnash My Teeth With a word like "gnash" in the title, how could this not be a popular post?

The Cranky Professor In which I experience a professional dumping.

I'm the Heroine of This Story A story of hardship that ends with the brave Christina eating a donut.

I'll be honest, I'm surprised by some of these Top Tenners (really, my amazing video didn't make it??). What did you enjoy this year? And what would you like to see increase in 2010?

Be Really Good At Being Really Bad

"If you can't be good at something, Christina, you should be really good at being bad at it."

I took my mother's advice to heart.

One time, I knew my tires were low and was hoping to get someone to put air in them for me. So I drove to an auto supply store, and in a wide-eyed, damsel-in-distress fashion, asked where the tire gauges would be and what they looked like.


The guy behind the counter could see he was going to have to be a hero, so he guided me to the tire gauges, explained why I didn't need the most expensive one they carried, and showed me how it worked. After I paid for it, he then demonstrated -- on each of my four tires -- how to test the air pressure.

"So," I asked cautiously, "How does one get air in the tires once you know they're low?"

My new friend explained that he couldn't leave the shop to fill my tires at the gas station across the street, but gave detailed instructions. He hesitated, then asked how far I planned to drive that day.

"Why?"

"Because you have a bald tire. And I mean, it's really bad. I'd be worried that it might blow if you get on the freeway."

Oh, dear. That was a slight problem. It got dealt with, but here are the truths I think this story demonstrates:

If you don't know something, ask. I really didn't know where the tire gauges were, and I didn't know how to use them.

Make it clear that you know someone is doing you a good turn. It made that guy's afternoon that he got to save the day for pretty little me. And I batted my eyes, hung on his every word, and thanked him for his help to let him know his expertise and assistance were appreciated.

Sometimes, you get more than you expected... and that's a good thing. People like to help when help is appreciated. Not only did this guy make sure I bought the most reasonably priced tire gauge, make sure I understood how it worked, and then check all my tires, but he threw in an extra bonus when he told me I was gambling with my life every time I zoomed up to 70 on the interstate.

We both benefited and felt happy about our interaction. All because I was really good at being really bad at something.

The Anti-Resolution List

I'm not a resolutions kind of girl.

Mainly because I know I'll lose my list long before the end of the year, so even if I wanted to keep any eye on my progress, I wouldn't be able.

My name is Christina and I lose everything.

But I also avoid resolutions because I don't think life is about creating new hateful habits (exercising a bazillion hours every week! surviving on carrot sticks and lemon water!) or breaking old ones I like (you will never take my coffee away). If I'm going to reflect over the year, it's to see what I liked and what I want to try differently the next time around. I won't be building myself guilt traps. I'll be giving myself permission to enjoy life and grow it into something amazing.

Here's how I try to do it.

I plan to do at least one big thing that I haven't done before. This is kind of an every year plan; 2009's Big Thing I Haven't Done Before was a roadtrip with my best friend. We had a vague plan for the journey, only knowing for sure we'd stop at two old southern cemeteries. On a whim, we drove down to St. Augustine, enjoyed the day, and then drove all night to Virginia so I could teach a 7:40 a.m. class.

I wrote a Dammit List. I wish I could say this was my idea, but it actually came from the brilliance that is Havi Brooks. Basically, it's a manifesto, a collection of personal statements, that define for you (and others) how your life will be conducted. I built upon the Dammit List concept by actually organizing a Dammit Day, and convincing others to write their lists, too. (I get pushy when it comes to the well-being of others, but if they don't like it they can stop talking to me.)

I commit to trying to ask myself the right questions. Welcome to nerd talk, but I truly believe it: if you don't know how to ask the right questions, you're never going to get helpful answers or solutions. So when I come up against hard decisions or scary choices, I try to ask good questions: Am I making this decision out of fear? If so, what am I afraid of? Do I really have more time than I'm giving myself to choose? How might I grow through this opportunity?

I laugh. Because most things are funny from the right perspective, and even the bad things can make for a good story -- it's all in how you tell it.

Now it's your turn. What works best when you contemplate a brand new year? Are you a hard-core resolutions writer or a que sera, sera kind of person? Share your approach in the comments!

The Plan Was Super Easy

The plan was super easy: I was going to get on a train Saturday morning, arrive in Washington, DC three hours later, and enjoy a day of tromping around the city with friends before flying to Seattle the following night.

And then it snowed.

You may have seen the TV coverage of the two-foot blanket of white we received. It was really rotten timing, and I was mad. Unlike many, I've always distrusted snow. Sure, it looks pure and friendly, but it shoves cars off the road, freezes pipes, and takes all the bread off grocery store shelves.

The night of The Big Snow, I stayed with my travel buddies. In the horrifyingly white morning, Hunter dug out his four wheel drive truck and took us to the train station. We managed the difficult, uncleared roads and hills just in time to get the truck stuck in the parking lot.

But then we rushed aboard the train just in time! We were safe! And headed to a Big City with a Big Airport where everything would be okay. The train started off, and we relaxed in the knowledge that we'd all get to our destinations.


Then the train stopped. It continued stopping, with very few interruptions, for ten hours.

Meaning we got to DC around 11:00 p.m., about 13 hours after left. Amtrak's slogan waved goodbye: "Amtrak: Enjoy the Journey!"

Bah, humbug.

We arrived at the hotel at midnight and collapsed into bed. The next morning, we learned my flight was still on time (yay!), so we spent the day wandering in the snow and drinking coffee.

In the late afternoon I took an exciting shuttle ride with a friendly man who eagerly disregarded lights, lanes, and laws to get me to the airport on time.

I got some food! I found my terminal! I waited to get on my plane! It was delayed ten minutes!

Wait, what? That's not good. My layover was only scheduled to be 40 minutes... but the DC airline rep told me I'd be fine.

The airline rep in Minneapolis apologized instead, and handed me vouchers for food and a hotel stay.

So I wearily waited for the Ramada shuttle. I climbed aboard, and the driver announced that our hotel was next door to the Mall of America. I checked my ticket for the next morning: 7:20 a.m. So no cheesy sight-seeing for me.

Sigh.

I was zoomed next to a creepy hotel that was apparently modeled after the one in The Shining. The woman at the reception desk said to take the elevator to 2R, and then find my room -- 436 -- from there. Um, okay, that makes no sense, but I figured maybe it was a rambler-type hotel and then ran out of both 200s and 300s and thus had the 400s on the same level.


What a silly thing to believe. No, the hotel hallways actually SPIRALED upward to the 400 level. Creepy noises and poor lighting led me to believe I had a fair chance of being murdered or see rivers of blood, so I kind of sprinted up the spiral until I found my tastefully decorated room.

I called people to say goodbye in case I was murdered in my sleep, and went to bed.

Jumped out of bed the next morning, raced downstairs, and climbed on the airport shuttle. Bad-breathed debate team members with Minnesota accents discussed the merits of speeding up and slowing down speeches while analyzing them. I refrained from leaping onto my seat and yelling that I am a speech professor ON VACATION and they all NEEDED SOME BREATH MINTS.

(Santa's watching. Plus I hadn't eaten breakfast and really didn't have the energy.)

Hours of being shuffled around by people who didn't understand that I really meant it when I said I TRIED to use the kiosk check-in already -- yes, both Northwest AND Delta -- and it didn't work because it wasn't working, NOT because I'm an imbecile... and then a brief stint of securitizing, and I was on a plane to Seattle.

It arrived. As did my best friend, who was picking me up. And we didn't get into any accidents or explosions along the way home.

But I'm really scared to try leaving again.

So yes... while this is not the world's worst travel story (I met one girl who was on her third day of delays and was worried about missing her wedding!), it was pretty tiring and also why I needed to decompress a bit before reliving it for you here.

But now it's your turn: tell me YOUR travel horror stories!

Questions I Never Heard

I don't always hear things correctly. When I respond to something entirely different than what was actually said, I realize by the looks I get how inappropriate I've been.


I also come across as someone with whom people can be open, honest, and say strange things. So in honor of yesterday's random conviction that I would be arrested and last night's looooong dream about cleaning my microwave (yeah, I'm on a wave of weird right now), I'm giving you a taste of questions I've asked or thought I heard.

Enjoy.
===

"So you said there's a dead foot in your car?"

That's what I thought he said. He actually asked if I could fit a bookshelf in my car. It isn't the same.

"It's going to shit. In a handbasket. Who even WANTS shit in a handbasket?"

It's a valid question.

"You want to be me? You want my job? Then you're going to be constantly hounded to wear a slutty nurse costume."

Yeah, I had a job (err, boss) like that.

"What eunuchs are you planning to do?" "Um, I don't do eunuchs."

I'm surprised people don't confuse "eunuchs" and "units" more often. I can't be the only one. My professor seemed to think I was, however.
===

PLEASE tell me I'm not the only one who occasionally makes these mistakes!

Fresh Memory

For reasons big and small, I'm all about remembering.

And once you start that trip into Memoryland, you find more and more moments you stored away, and you get to enjoy them all over again. Like Russian dolls... you open one up and you find ANOTHER one. And ANOTHER. You have no idea how long this will go, and it's kind of fun.

So here's what we're going to do. We're going to share memories today, because I LOVE that. I run the show here, so while I get to dictate, you still have to choose to participate... please do! I'll even start off with a memory made today. Yes, you get the freshest memories on this holiday. You're welcome.

FRESH MEMORY

While grading at Starbucks, I was chit-chatting with my friend Andy. An exam response triggered one of my favorite rants; it goes, "Rhetoric is the third oldest profession! Only farming and prostitution precede it in the annals of history!"

Andy didn't realize I only stopped to take a deep breath, because he responded. "I don't know that it was a recognized profession back then, Christina."

Confusion. "Wait, what wasn't recognized as a profession? Farming?"

And then people laughed at me. I did, too, once I remembered not everyone loves rhetoric and ancient Greeks the way I do.

Now it's your turn! Tell me a fun memory in the comments. Pretty please?

My Heart Cracked Open And Pride Gushed Out

I am so proud of my students.

Today was my last day teaching one of my classes, and they gave impromptu speeches on topics I selected. Because I like to be entertained, the topics ranged from "Camels Make the Best Transportation" to "Why Gravity Is My Favorite Physical Law."


They did amazingly well. They also supported one another, cheered for success, and reflected upon their semester in ways that made my heart swell. While eating donuts they'd brought to celebrate, they cracked jokes and shared stories and admitted they were going to miss the class.

Aww.

One international student thanked me, and handed me a gift. When I opened it later (at his request), I found a note that threatened the safety of my mascara.

Why do they do this? Don't they know how much of a teacher's heart gets invested in these classes? It's so hard to say goodbye already... why must they be nice, too?

I've watched them transform over the course of the semester from scared freshmen to confident young men and women who have built new friendships, survived college exams and heartbreaks, and conquered some of their biggest fears. They gave speeches about their favorite household appliances... and about human trafficking. They studied together for exams, opened their lives wide to include new people, and changed their minds and majors.

It is a hard thing sometimes to be a professor. You meet amazing young people on the cusp of adulthood and mentor them. You watch with pride for a season as they try to navigate life, often succeeding in ways they hadn't imagined.

And then you bid them farewell.

I'm so proud. Goodbye.

Reflections? Trust Me, I Have Some

December has always been a time of reflection for me. I like to look over the year and see how far I've (hopefully!) come.

But right now, I'm grading. I've been doing it for like four hours straight, and have at least that much more to do today (and I STILL won't be done!). So today's December reflection will default to a familiar theme: I am too pretty for this!

Christina's List of Things That She is Far Too Pretty For

1. I am too pretty to spend to be grading exams that include answers made up of random words strung together -- they are not even sentence fragments!
2. I am too pretty for my efforts at surprising my best friend with a redecorated office to go unappreciated (I moved her desk into the middle of her office when she stepped out for 35 seconds... it was amazing, but amazingly enough she was not impressed. How rude!).
3. I am too pretty to pack my apartment... aren't there fairies who are supposed to take care of that?
4. I am too pretty to break my friend's phone. Oh no wait, I'm not. Sorry.
5. I am too pretty to keep forgetting to eat. Because seriously, skeleton Christina is not pretty and it would be a shame to morph into her just because life is busy and stressful right now.

Okay, that got some of the whine out of my soul. But I reserve the right to add to the list later.

What about you? What are you dealing with today that you are FAR TOO PRETTY for?

If catharsis doesn't work, refer back to the Too Pretty Strategies for Losing the Funk (still giggling over that!).

How To Lose The Funk

Two days ago, you shared some of your ideas about how to beat the blues. Lose the funk. Just plain old feel better.

Yesterday, I needed all of those suggestions. So in one marathon session, I did every single thing you told me to (kind of). Here's what happened.


Thank you for your help!

I Don't Participate In Cyber Mondays

Cyber Monday makes me laugh.

Why? Because I have a sense of humor more similar to that of my 14-year-old brother than what one would expect of a college professor.

The phrase "Cyber Monday" is funny to me for several reasons. First, "cyber" is such a dated term. It makes me think of the late 90s, when everything was e-this or e-that. Hearing the word makes me want to break out Backstreet Boys music.

The datedness factor leads me to the second reason "cyber" makes me giggle. As you may or may not know, textbooks are not written by the audience to whom they are addressed. No, they are generally penned by old academics who are trying desperately to make their content seem relevant. Which is awesome... most of the time.

This time it's just awesomely funny.

One of the textbooks I use explains to students that sometimes, when grown-ups love each other very much and are very far away from one another, they use the internet to "cyber." Yep, that's the word they chose. So when I see that Twitter is alive with Cyber Monday references, I can't help but imagine an online orgy.

Thanks, old academic textbook-writers. You gave me a priceless image that simultaneously makes me shudder and laugh.

How You Know You've Made It As A Blogger

I've made it as a blogger.


I didn't know if this would ever happen... I mean, lightning rarely strikes twice, and I had my first bit of electrocution as a celebrity gossip blogger. So I'm just flattered and trying to prepare myself for the fame that's sure to be around the corner.

How do I know I've "made it" as a blogger, you ask? Well, it's when you start having people come to you for things. With the celebrity gossip thing, I had publicists contacting me out of the blue to promote their shows, artists, whatever. And while mostly that just meant I got a lot of press releases from Animal Planet, National Geographic, and Playboy, it was something.

And you'd be surprised how much a site's Google rankings improve when you include keywords like "nude," "Victoria's Secret models," and "Playboy." Especially when they're all in one sentence like that.

So this past week, when I was told by blogger Feelmore that she was naming me as a recipient to the award below (I didn't forget!), I was honored.

But I guess it brought my blog to the attention of some of her important friends, because NoNine Recordings emailed me soon after and gave me a song from their new artist, David Minor.

So obviously, I've made it.

I've also disclosed that I got a freebie, so now everyone (*cough* government regulators *cough*) can be happy.

So thank you all for making this happen. I'm tearing up a little when I think of all my fans and my supporters, and the long hard hours I've put into this blog for 2.5 whole months. Oh, gosh, I don't want to forget my friends, my family, my dog... everyone who has made this journey with me.

This also means I may need to stop associating with some of you non-freebie-receivers. Sorry, but now that I'm in demand I really have to focus on my work and perfecting my craft and dodging the photogs.

(Or you can just enjoy the free song by David Minor, too, thanks to the generous people at NoNine Recordings. That would actually fix everything.)