I've been wondering for a couple of weeks how the MDA got so many blinkin' people to take part in their "MDA Lock Up" campaign. Each person who agrees to take part has a contribution goal and hits up his/her contacts up to donate money. On the day of the campaign, the person must go to jail (which, in this case, is a local bar -- is that the hook?) and cannot be released until the agreed-upon funds are raised. So, s/he spends the afternoon dialing for dollars and purportedly "networking" with other people who are also donating their time/money to help the MDA.
There are so many organizations that need funds right now: what makes the MDA campaign so compelling? Is it the fun nature of being "jailed" for the day? Does it make it easier for people to give because the event itself has a whimsical storyline?
I have nothing against the MDA but here's what struck me when I clicked on the link and asked myself: what can my hard-earned money provide to the MDA?
$87 will fund one minute of research
One minute. Are you kidding me? I could sponsor a third-world child for three months for roughly the same amount of money. Or I could help to change the world one smile at a time.
Not one to let this drop, I went on Charity Navigator where I noticed that the MDA was given only two stars (out of four). I wonder how many of my friends and acquaintances who were jailed last week know where their money is going. I'm sure it's a worthy cause -- I would just rather put my dollars elsewhere.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Nice Timing!
I just received a six-color, three-panel, die-cut, coated, foldout brochure with pocket containing an application for membership and "call to action" for FREE (all caps!) access to an exclusive Webcast and a $20 gift card if I join by October 31, 2008. The worst part: it's from the American Marketing Association!
Maybe they should be taking some pointers from the Direct Marketing Association on how to get their expensive mail in their prospects' mailboxes before the deadline -- not 3+ months too late.
"Marketing is moving in new directions. How will you navigate it?"
In hindsight, that pseudo-compelling headline now sounds suspiciously like they're really asking for advice. I think I'll avoid the $215 membership dues entirely and "navigate my way to greater success" alone.
Maybe they should be taking some pointers from the Direct Marketing Association on how to get their expensive mail in their prospects' mailboxes before the deadline -- not 3+ months too late.
"Marketing is moving in new directions. How will you navigate it?"
In hindsight, that pseudo-compelling headline now sounds suspiciously like they're really asking for advice. I think I'll avoid the $215 membership dues entirely and "navigate my way to greater success" alone.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Norman Rockwell
Last night, the boys and I went skating at the neighbors' house across the street. It was a beautiful starry night and snowing. On their rink, under the lights, it felt like a dream.
After I took my skates off, Liz and I sat on the wooden bench, cozied up under a blanket (as it was only 16 degrees out), had a glass of wine and watched the kids play shadow tag on the ice. And I thought: It just doesn't get any better than this.
Thank you God.
After I took my skates off, Liz and I sat on the wooden bench, cozied up under a blanket (as it was only 16 degrees out), had a glass of wine and watched the kids play shadow tag on the ice. And I thought: It just doesn't get any better than this.
Thank you God.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Mini-weekend: Day 3
I'm shocked that this is the third week (albeit not in a row) of a mid-week day off. And because I worked six days last week, I'm taking two (2!) days off this week. I'm living the life of Riley!
Highlights of today included:
Highlights of today included:
- Waiting for the bus in the morning while the kids played in the igloo across the street. My neighbor called out, "Does everyone know rule #1 about playing in the igloo?" to which the 10 year old boy next door responded, "No smoking?" (The real answer: no climbing on top while kids are inside.)
- Spending 1.5 hours with my BMC/body-mind centering teacher. What's the point of a day off if you cannot spend time de-stressing and transforming your life?
- Playing hockey until my fingertips froze
- Cleaning!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Bad Day: #4
Last January, I wrote three posts entitled Bad Day (i.e., #1, 2 and 3 respectively) and somehow I had forgotten this little tale -- maybe I had thankfully suppressed the horror. The memory of it arose recently when I read on a friend's Facebook "25 random things about me" note that he was a "debutante escort" in his late teens.
When I was in my mid-20s, my girlfriend Meg talked me into a girls' night out (GNO). I had zero interest in going because it was to her roommate's boyfriend's work Christmas party (yawn!) but she is extremely persuasive and I ended up reluctantly agreeing. The premise was that every year the party is boring with a capital B because none of the guys have dates so, because Andy was bringing Leanne this particular year, she was encouraged to bring all of her friends. Free meal. Free drinks. Whatever.
The night of the party, Leanne and another girl showed up at my apartment to pick me up. Note: Everyone else backed out. Note #2: Even MEG! Note #3: I didn't know either of these girls well at all. What the . . . ? Why didn't Meg call me? Why am I going out??
So we arrived on the late side at a Japanese restaurant and the description was right: It's only men at this party. Literally. We were the only three women there. We didn't even have a chance to order drinks when we were whisked off to dinner -- at separate tables. What? I can't even sit with my friends?
The minute I was seated, the man next to me asked, "Are you a professional stripper or just an escort?"
Uhhhhhh, I think you have me confused with someone else.
It turns out that the business owner a) usually hired "talent" for the night and decided not to this year, b) didn't let the clients know, c) didn't let us know and, most importantly, d) didn't allow any of the men to bring their wives. Lucky us.
Well, doesn't that make for awkward conversation at the dinner table?! To make matters worse, seated at my table were some of the company's clients. From where you may ask? Why Eastman Kodak, of course. Where I worked. Big company, yet, small enough that I saw all of them in the cafeteria the very next day. I was beyond mortified because I wasn't sure if they bought my "story" or not. To this day, I am shaken to the core just thinking about it.
Back to the party. As we were walking out the door, the business owner followed us into the coat room and asked us how much he owed us for the night. Wait? What? Leanne's friend was joining Oak Hill at the time and this dude was actually a member. She was aghast and positively refused to take his money. I simply asked, "How much are you offering?" and pocketed all the cash that he held out.
I figured that I had had a lot of crappy dates in my life; I may as well get paid for one.
Yep, the one thing missing from my list of "25 random things about me" because it requires an in-depth explanation: I was once a paid escort. Poor guys who were expecting something entertaining! The holiday party from hell.
When I was in my mid-20s, my girlfriend Meg talked me into a girls' night out (GNO). I had zero interest in going because it was to her roommate's boyfriend's work Christmas party (yawn!) but she is extremely persuasive and I ended up reluctantly agreeing. The premise was that every year the party is boring with a capital B because none of the guys have dates so, because Andy was bringing Leanne this particular year, she was encouraged to bring all of her friends. Free meal. Free drinks. Whatever.
The night of the party, Leanne and another girl showed up at my apartment to pick me up. Note: Everyone else backed out. Note #2: Even MEG! Note #3: I didn't know either of these girls well at all. What the . . . ? Why didn't Meg call me? Why am I going out??
So we arrived on the late side at a Japanese restaurant and the description was right: It's only men at this party. Literally. We were the only three women there. We didn't even have a chance to order drinks when we were whisked off to dinner -- at separate tables. What? I can't even sit with my friends?
The minute I was seated, the man next to me asked, "Are you a professional stripper or just an escort?"
Uhhhhhh, I think you have me confused with someone else.
It turns out that the business owner a) usually hired "talent" for the night and decided not to this year, b) didn't let the clients know, c) didn't let us know and, most importantly, d) didn't allow any of the men to bring their wives. Lucky us.
Well, doesn't that make for awkward conversation at the dinner table?! To make matters worse, seated at my table were some of the company's clients. From where you may ask? Why Eastman Kodak, of course. Where I worked. Big company, yet, small enough that I saw all of them in the cafeteria the very next day. I was beyond mortified because I wasn't sure if they bought my "story" or not. To this day, I am shaken to the core just thinking about it.
Back to the party. As we were walking out the door, the business owner followed us into the coat room and asked us how much he owed us for the night. Wait? What? Leanne's friend was joining Oak Hill at the time and this dude was actually a member. She was aghast and positively refused to take his money. I simply asked, "How much are you offering?" and pocketed all the cash that he held out.
I figured that I had had a lot of crappy dates in my life; I may as well get paid for one.
Yep, the one thing missing from my list of "25 random things about me" because it requires an in-depth explanation: I was once a paid escort. Poor guys who were expecting something entertaining! The holiday party from hell.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Compliments!
A friend from high school told me over the weekend that he likes to keep in touch with me because I'm such a positive, encouraging influence in his life. I thought that was a really, really kind thing to say.
And then came another stupendous accolade from the girl with the purple hair behind the counter at Burger King, "Dude, way to rock that Yu-Gi-Oh! hat."
Why thank you!
And then came another stupendous accolade from the girl with the purple hair behind the counter at Burger King, "Dude, way to rock that Yu-Gi-Oh! hat."
Why thank you!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Young Us Now Us
Happy birthday Grannie Annie!
As a tribute to your (insert age here) years on this planet, we wanted to thank you for your love, support and guidance in making us who we are today . . .
Hard to believe how much we've changed.
With love, your little kiddies.
Note: Idea clearly stolen from YoungMe-NowMe.
As a tribute to your (insert age here) years on this planet, we wanted to thank you for your love, support and guidance in making us who we are today . . .
Hard to believe how much we've changed.
With love, your little kiddies.
Note: Idea clearly stolen from YoungMe-NowMe.
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