This is why America is awesome. Would you ever see the Queen of England doing the Dougie? I think not. Go Michelle Obama!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
How a Fairytale Dashed My Dreams
Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock or lost on a desert island these past few months, you know this week is a big week in the name of love and Britain. That’s right. It’s Royal Wedding Week -- and even though we Americans are ferociously against aristocracy, we are still suckers for the commoner-meets-prince fairy tale. Thus, news of the grand affair is filling our airwaves and magazine racks.
For me, however, this week represents something a bit sadder than fairy tale endings. It represents dashed childhood dreams. When I was in ninth grade, I was sure Prince William would be mine. I knew all eight (or so) names included in William’s complete royal name and made everyone I knew call me “Princess Colleen.”
“How,” you might ask yourself, “did you still have friends after that year?” That is a good question. I do not know the answer myself, actually. I also don’t know how my parents endured this fantasy. I remember one evening my mom asked me to clean my room, and I responded with, “You know, British royalty never have to clean their rooms!!!” Hahaha. I was grounded.
Anyway, years past, William aged poorly, and I forgot about my teen obsession. Today though, I received the following e-mail from my old neighbor, and friend’s dad. Keep in mind, I haven’t talked to this man in years:
Colleen,
This must be a very tough week for you. I hope you are seeking help and support. Please accept my most heartfelt sympathy. I know it has been your dream since your were a little girl to be Prince William’s princess. This would have been your week! All the glamour, glitz and glory!
Actually, throughout all these years I have been quietly planning to attend your big ceremony in the Westminster Abbey. Surely, you would have invited your favorite old neighbor! Now, (sob) I didn’t get invited to this week’s festivities. This is kinda tough on me, too.
But, I guess it wasn’t to be. Keep your chin up. Don’t ever forget, you will always be a princess to your Dad. (There is something special about daughters) And, perhaps some gentleman more becoming to you will make you his princess.
Obviously, Prince William does not know what he is missing. Hey, wait. You do have a couple of days… Naa, it would be tough to get his attention now. I assume he has already had his bachelor party. Perhaps you could have made your move then. Probably too late now.
Take care of yourself during this difficult week and think of positive things. I know you will get through this. Just like the little choo-choo train said as it was climbing the mountain, “Yes, I can! Yes, I can!”
Thinking of you this week,
Al
Wow. I must have made a bigger fuss about it than I remember. Should I be embarrassed? Or should I pick up the habit again? After all, all hope isn’t completely lost...there is still one more prince left to marry. Perhaps, to England, I shall go...no?
For me, however, this week represents something a bit sadder than fairy tale endings. It represents dashed childhood dreams. When I was in ninth grade, I was sure Prince William would be mine. I knew all eight (or so) names included in William’s complete royal name and made everyone I knew call me “Princess Colleen.”
“How,” you might ask yourself, “did you still have friends after that year?” That is a good question. I do not know the answer myself, actually. I also don’t know how my parents endured this fantasy. I remember one evening my mom asked me to clean my room, and I responded with, “You know, British royalty never have to clean their rooms!!!” Hahaha. I was grounded.
Anyway, years past, William aged poorly, and I forgot about my teen obsession. Today though, I received the following e-mail from my old neighbor, and friend’s dad. Keep in mind, I haven’t talked to this man in years:
Colleen,
This must be a very tough week for you. I hope you are seeking help and support. Please accept my most heartfelt sympathy. I know it has been your dream since your were a little girl to be Prince William’s princess. This would have been your week! All the glamour, glitz and glory!
Actually, throughout all these years I have been quietly planning to attend your big ceremony in the Westminster Abbey. Surely, you would have invited your favorite old neighbor! Now, (sob) I didn’t get invited to this week’s festivities. This is kinda tough on me, too.
But, I guess it wasn’t to be. Keep your chin up. Don’t ever forget, you will always be a princess to your Dad. (There is something special about daughters) And, perhaps some gentleman more becoming to you will make you his princess.
Obviously, Prince William does not know what he is missing. Hey, wait. You do have a couple of days… Naa, it would be tough to get his attention now. I assume he has already had his bachelor party. Perhaps you could have made your move then. Probably too late now.
Take care of yourself during this difficult week and think of positive things. I know you will get through this. Just like the little choo-choo train said as it was climbing the mountain, “Yes, I can! Yes, I can!”
Thinking of you this week,
Al
Wow. I must have made a bigger fuss about it than I remember. Should I be embarrassed? Or should I pick up the habit again? After all, all hope isn’t completely lost...there is still one more prince left to marry. Perhaps, to England, I shall go...no?
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Bunny Cakes and Other Forced Traditions
Who here thinks it’s impossible to mess up boxed cake? Well, think again, and bring me in. The picture to the left is my attempt to make a bunny cake for Easter. Needless to say I failed, and seriously injured this longtime family tradition.
Let’s be real about “traditions” in my family. These days, they are are often forced. The bunny cake tradition began some time in the early nineties, and even though we are all grown now, my mom refuses to let the tradition go. Perhaps she holds on for the near-futile hope that one of us might actual have kids someday soon. Prols not gonna happen for awhile, mom.
The bunny cake isn’t the only tradition forced upon us year after year. Another one is called “Cookie Day,” and takes place about mid-December. Apparently, Cookie Day has been a Callahan family tradition for decades - and by decades I mean since 2005. In my recollection, Cookie Day began when I was 22 (yes, out of college) and my mom got sick of making all the Christmas cookies herself. Instead of just asking for help, she turned it into some longstanding tradition that I ostensibly didn’t remember for the first 22 years of my life. Who knows? The tradition of Family Spring Cleaning Day could begin this year!! So many options for forced traditions in our family!!
But back to the bunny cake. What I did wrong was put olive oil in the batter, instead vegetable oil. Apparently you can’t do that. How was I to know? It seemed like the healthier option! Alas, it was the option that brought silent doom to the bunny cake. So next time you don’t want to ruin a family tradition, remember this one piece of advice: vegetable oil never fails. Bake on
Monday, October 4, 2010
Found: The story of me finding an awesome hair product
Alas, I have searched the earth, far and wide, for hair products that deserve praise. I have finally found one, and it's only $11. Garnier should praise me for this shameless promo, but I'm not kidding, it works. I am wearing my hair down today, thanks to yesterday's infusion. If anyone knows me, you know that never happens. Unless I straighten it. Which never happens. Anyway it's Garnier Sleek and Shine Blow Dry Perfector. So awesome if you have at all frizzy hair. It even made me buy a blow dryer. I haven't ever owned a blow dryer. Times are changing my friends, times are changing.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Katy Perry & Sesame Street. Really?
Why would someone put Katy Perry on Sesame Street to begin with? I mean, I like her, but she's not exactly a performer for children...
Sesame Street Pulls Katy Perry Video
Sesame Street Pulls Katy Perry Video
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
On being filfthy rich
I just wrote this for a job application, so I decided perhaps I should share it with someone else too. Enjoy!
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I remember the first time it actually hit me - how filthy rich I was. I was taking a class on world development problems in graduate school, and the professor was categorizing humanity into three economic classes: under consumers, moderate consumers and over consumers. At the time, I subsisted on $1200 a month, generated from serving as a teaching assistant for the school. I quickly balked with pride. I could barely afford to live, I thought, I am definitely not an over consumer, that’s for sure. Besides half of the world’s population are moderate consumers, only 20 percent are classified as over consumers -- like I really fall into the elite percent.
My self-righteous pride however, was quickly humbled. My professor showed us a chart. “Moderate consumers,” he said, “have a per capita income of $700 - $7500 USD a year. Over consumers make more than $7500, have a diet of meat, packaged foods, soft drinks and consume too many calories. They drive private cars, dress in fashion-conscious clothing, and live in spacious, acclimatized shelters.” Wow. Way to describe me in a nutshell. I looked down at the H&M sweater I was wearing, and the Vitamin Water in my hand. Sure, I got it on sale for $14, and the Vitamin Water was $2 for two at the convenience store, but still...I was completely, unapologetically, an over consumer. I couldn’t believe I had even thought otherwise. I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t witnessed true poverty before. I had been to Calcutta and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Still, until I heard my professor’s description, it never really struck me as so, well, widespread.
As my professor continued to discuss global poverty, the realities of the world became painfully clearer, but it also became clearer why my view of poverty was so drastically limited. “Nearly 24,000 children a day die from poverty-related causes,” lectured my prof. “And the saddest thing is, we never hear about them, because they die in the poorest communities in the world, hidden from the world’s gaze.” Apparently, the poorest of the poor weren’t living in Minneapolis, Minn., or, in any area inhabited by or in close proximity to the world’s richest.
While statistics like this can be discouraging, I find there is a little bit of hope in facts like these. Call it naivety, but I think, if the over consumers of the world really knew about the poverty sharing this globe with them, they would reach out to help. I mean, how many small towns put on huge benefits to help a local cancer victim stricken with medical bills in addition to his disease? From what I’ve seen in my life, a lot.
So that’s why I believe in the power of communication to relieve global poverty. We all have the ability to help out a bit, we just have to spread the word, and sacrifice a few finances ourselves. As I mentioned before, perhaps this is an idealistic view of the overwhelming problem at hand. But what do we have to lose? In the words of famed activist Margaret Meade, “Never doubt that a small, thoughtful group of people can change the world. Indeed, they are the only ones who have ever have.”
--------------
I remember the first time it actually hit me - how filthy rich I was. I was taking a class on world development problems in graduate school, and the professor was categorizing humanity into three economic classes: under consumers, moderate consumers and over consumers. At the time, I subsisted on $1200 a month, generated from serving as a teaching assistant for the school. I quickly balked with pride. I could barely afford to live, I thought, I am definitely not an over consumer, that’s for sure. Besides half of the world’s population are moderate consumers, only 20 percent are classified as over consumers -- like I really fall into the elite percent.
My self-righteous pride however, was quickly humbled. My professor showed us a chart. “Moderate consumers,” he said, “have a per capita income of $700 - $7500 USD a year. Over consumers make more than $7500, have a diet of meat, packaged foods, soft drinks and consume too many calories. They drive private cars, dress in fashion-conscious clothing, and live in spacious, acclimatized shelters.” Wow. Way to describe me in a nutshell. I looked down at the H&M sweater I was wearing, and the Vitamin Water in my hand. Sure, I got it on sale for $14, and the Vitamin Water was $2 for two at the convenience store, but still...I was completely, unapologetically, an over consumer. I couldn’t believe I had even thought otherwise. I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t witnessed true poverty before. I had been to Calcutta and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Still, until I heard my professor’s description, it never really struck me as so, well, widespread.
As my professor continued to discuss global poverty, the realities of the world became painfully clearer, but it also became clearer why my view of poverty was so drastically limited. “Nearly 24,000 children a day die from poverty-related causes,” lectured my prof. “And the saddest thing is, we never hear about them, because they die in the poorest communities in the world, hidden from the world’s gaze.” Apparently, the poorest of the poor weren’t living in Minneapolis, Minn., or, in any area inhabited by or in close proximity to the world’s richest.
While statistics like this can be discouraging, I find there is a little bit of hope in facts like these. Call it naivety, but I think, if the over consumers of the world really knew about the poverty sharing this globe with them, they would reach out to help. I mean, how many small towns put on huge benefits to help a local cancer victim stricken with medical bills in addition to his disease? From what I’ve seen in my life, a lot.
So that’s why I believe in the power of communication to relieve global poverty. We all have the ability to help out a bit, we just have to spread the word, and sacrifice a few finances ourselves. As I mentioned before, perhaps this is an idealistic view of the overwhelming problem at hand. But what do we have to lose? In the words of famed activist Margaret Meade, “Never doubt that a small, thoughtful group of people can change the world. Indeed, they are the only ones who have ever have.”
Friday, June 25, 2010
Waiting
I am at a airport coffeeshop in Denver, CO. I'm here, staring outside at the airport's fake rendition of the Rockies (if you've been here, you know what I'm talking about), trying to kill three hours. I am headed to Orange County this weekend for a friend's wedding - and because I have no money, I could not afford a non-stop flight. Alas.
I have never been to LA, the city I am flying into. Tonight, thanks to the dealings of my friend Dan Edelstein, I am staying in the Santa Monica Motel. I know, it just sounds like the setting for a horror movie. The only reviews I read about it said, "I can stand cheap, budget hotels, but this place is just gross..." Ha. Should be an adventure.
So yeah. I am waiting. Waiting for my flight, waiting for one of the employers I've contacted to call me back. A lot of our lives our spent waiting. At least someone invented the Internet. It sure makes waiting a lot easier.
(Oh, and a special shout out to the Denver airport for having free wifi. Way to go.)
I have never been to LA, the city I am flying into. Tonight, thanks to the dealings of my friend Dan Edelstein, I am staying in the Santa Monica Motel. I know, it just sounds like the setting for a horror movie. The only reviews I read about it said, "I can stand cheap, budget hotels, but this place is just gross..." Ha. Should be an adventure.
So yeah. I am waiting. Waiting for my flight, waiting for one of the employers I've contacted to call me back. A lot of our lives our spent waiting. At least someone invented the Internet. It sure makes waiting a lot easier.
(Oh, and a special shout out to the Denver airport for having free wifi. Way to go.)
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