Cubicle Confidential: Uh-Oh

As overheard through the cubicle wall I share with the I.T. Guy....

(phone rings)

"This is [I.T. Guy]."

(momentary pause)

"... um ... the whole Internet?"

Mustaches...for Kids...?

Heaven help me, I am simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by facial hair. Bring me strange, true tales of groups of men dedicated to the cultivation of their soul patches, mutton chops, handlebars...I am captivated. This is my proverbial train wreck. I cannot look away.

I don't even know how I find these things. They seem to leap into my path. Remember this post on the World Beard Championships? Today brings another gem: Mustaches for Kids.

Brings to mind a sort of Locks of Love-style image, no? Okay, not quite. But this is indeed a legitimate, charitable organization. It raises money for children. And it is indescribably compelling.

From their website:

At the end of the Growing Season, each Mustaches for Kids chapter hosts a Mustache Competition, which is a cross between a beauty pageant, dog show, and police line up. During the Competition, Growers, often in Mustache-enhancing costumes, are put through a test of mind, body, and Mustache and allow their facial hair to be evaluated by an independent panel of judges, and one Mustache is declared to be the "Sweetest."

They have chapters, bylaws ("No Hitler Mustaches are allowed"), and an absolutely stunning FAQ. Trust me, check out the site. If anything on Earth could ever persuade me to go against my principles and encourage people to grow mustaches....

A Warrior Poet and a Call to Action

I'm away this weekend volunteering with Soldiers' Angels at the Marine Corps Family Conference.

All U.S. servicemen (and women) deserve our respect and gratitude for doing the unglamorous, often thankless, life altering work they do (that most of us, let's face it, would never step up to do ourselves)...but there is something particularly extraordinary about the Marine Corps.

Today, out in Iraq, there are currently 3,000 Marines in desperate need of your support, and Soldiers' Angels is looking for people to adopt them. If you have ever considered adopting a soldier, if you have been on the fence about it, now is the time to show that you know the meaning of sacrifice.

One card or letter per week costs just 41 cents. Flat-rate Global Priority Mail packages cost only $8.95 to ship, and if you are creative, not a lot of money to fill with necessary and morale-boosting items.

How much do you spend on lunches at work? Could you bring food from home once a week and put that money toward providing a few words of encouragement and a comforting touch of home to a Marine who is serving this country with the kind of passion and dedication exhibited in this video?

Pet Peeve Du Jour

If I introduce myself as "Jenny," that is not an invitation for you to call me "Jennifer."

Hey Sailor

I went out swing dancing last week at the club down the street, and one of the regulars there is a war vet named Saul. He is the rare person who will actually attempt intelligent conversation during a dance, so in between spins and swingouts, we were chatting about his service ("Navy. I was a flyer.") and about other places he goes to dance during the week.

He said, "I went down to Alpine Village on Monday night, and suddenly remembered why I stopped going there ten years ago. Too many old people!"

Did I mention when Saul served? He's an octogenarian WWII vet.

These Are the People in Your Neighborhood

Or maybe just in my neighborhood. I see this tree every morning when I walk the beastie. Around it, there is wrapped what appears to be a homemade swing, the bottom of which has been artfully and pragmatically rendered in Sharpie:

Memorial Day

Of course I hope you have a good holiday weekend. But I also hope that, in between the road trips and the barbecues and the beach volleyball, you would take some time to remember why we observe Memorial Day.

My thoughts at the moment are occupied by the most recent "high-profile casualty" in this war -- a young soldier from Torrance, California who was found just yesterday in the Euphrates River, after having been abducted and killed. Torrance is near where I live. I've never met him, but tonight his family is grieving a mere few miles from me, and it is all I can do to pray for their comfort and to honor his sacrifice.

Please do the same.

Please be mindful of what you are able to do this weekend and why you are able to do it.

Please read this Blackfive post, and while you're at it, this one, too. I promise, they are worth your time. There are men out there now, and men throughout history, who have deemed your freedom worth their time, even unto the end of their earthly time.

"Is He Still There?"

Help Me, Amy-Wan Kenobi....

A Candidate for "Pimp My Ride"

Interview With a Wampa

Who Says Nerdy Guys Can't Hang Out with Models?

Too Bad Her Name's Amy

Because "ChewBECCA" would have been a great title for this one.

When 30 Years Old You Reach, Look as Good, You Will Not

Forgive the "landscape" view in lieu of "portrait" -- this is a Blogger bug that has yet to be addressed. Just tilt your head & enjoy.

Anyway, this exhibit full of props, puppets, models and costumes came about as part of the hoopla surrounding the 30th anniversary of Star Wars (the REAL Star Wars, not The Wretched Abomination of Which We Shall No Longer Speak). As the person who once received and read all the incoming resumes and cover letters from potential model makers at New Deal Studios (the best VFX house in Southern California), I can attest to the influence this franchise has had on American culture, the art of film, and guys who were born in the 1970's.

That's a solemn dating credo around here, by the way: "No one born after Star Wars."

Fine, Okay? We're Nerds

One week ago, in a galaxy about 17 miles away, the roomie and I owned up to our collective inner geek and jumped in her freeway-speeder to see the "Star Wars: The Art and Science of Imagination" exhibit at the California Science Center.

We promptly owned up to our collective OUTER geek, as you will see in a series of photos I'll post over the next few days.

I'll begin with this one, though, which will hopefully keep things in perspective for you: WE WERE NOT WEARING COSTUMES. This guy was roaming from car to car as we were waiting in line to pay for parking.

Sure hope he worked for the museum.

Stretching My Lexicon

CRIMINALLY UNDERUSED WORDS

Brobdingnagian
Churlish
Festooned
Widdershins

Profundity

Much of my life of late has been devoted to the canine world, since the arrival of Truman. But as these quotes from "Understanding & Teaching Self Control" by Suzanne Clothier (from Flying Dog Press) illustrate, it's not necessarily just about the dog. Humans, take note:

"Compared to IQ, which some psychologists and educators feel is a relatively unchangeable quality, there is substantial evidence that emotional skills, such as self control, can be learned. The findings of this study highlight the importance of self control as a 'meta-ability' -- one that sits above and affects how poorly or well the other mental skills can be used."

Hmm. Sounds mighty familiar.

"Obedience training is useful, as is any education, when it is built on a foundation of self control. No matter how well educated or intelligent a person might be, if they have no behavioral option but to react to every comment or action or event in their lives, they will lead strange and disturbing existences that do not reflect their 'training.' Likewise, a 'trained' dog is not trained until he has learned self control."

Anyone else out there feeling convicted?

Three Words, People:

World. Beard. Championships.

There is nothing I can offer you that is better than that link. Except, maybe, their blog. Not tempted? Here's an excerpt:

Now meet Hans Langstreth from Norway. According to Guinness, the late Hans sported the world's longest beard. In fact, Longstreth's beard is or was on display at the Smithsonian, the same as the Hope Diamond and the Spirit of St. Louis.

Where is Jenny?

Over here, in puppyville. You people with kids...I don't know how you do it.

I'm Not Just Ignoring You

On a personal note, someone -- maybe you? -- called my home number and left a message for me yesterday (Thursday, March 1). Unfortunately, due to technical difficulties with our phone line, probably resulting from a combination of ridiculous winds and the phone line's general state of everyday crappiness, all I heard on the answering machine was a bunch of static. Didn't get a name, a number, or even two seconds of voice to provide me with an opportunity to play guess-who.

My outgoing calls are also affected by this, so until the fine people at the phone company come out, I won't be using my home phone. Call me on my cell if you need to reach me this weekend, and for the love of all that is holy, please tell me if you were the person who left yesterday's message. For all I know, it might have been important....