Humor

Confounded By Group Photos

/ Ally Bean / 32 Comments

“Time can change me, But I can’t trace time.”

~ David Bowie

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A few months ago I was talking on the phone with a friend who happens to be in her eighties.  She is a delight– mentally with it + honest to a fault.  In other words, exactly who I want to be when I get to be an eightysomething.

In our conversation my friend mentioned that her granddaughter had emailed her some photos of herself with her friends.  The young women had gotten dressed up and gone out to brunch together somewhere pricey.  The photo of was of all of them in front of the restaurant.

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I asked my friend how her granddaughter looked in the photo and my friend said: “Cute, I guess.  All the girls look alike to me, so I can’t tell which one she is.  They all have long, stringy hair and carry huge purses.  I think that my granddaughter is one of them.”

As we talked a bit more about kids.these.days. I chuckled to myself about me humoring a delightful older woman who was clearly confused by the obvious.  I mean, how could she not know which girl was her granddaughter?  Really.

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A younger friend of mine, who is not on Twitter, has a high school daughter, who is on Twitter.  And as you know, I’m on Twitter.  So, every once in a while I check to see what my friend’s daughter is doing on Twitter.

What I have discovered is that this girl is a good kid.  She has pleasant friends, likes ice cream, doesn’t like schoolwork, likes sports, goes on dates.  Nothing scathing at all– unless you consider a few swear words once in a while to be trouble.  Which I don’t.

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One day last week I was glancing at the photos that my friend’s daughter had added to her Twitter feed and I saw a group shot of a bunch of teenage girls.  They were all wearing skinny jeans and white t-shirts and pumps with 4″ heels.  And I thought: “What a cute photo.  I wonder which one is my friend’s daughter?  They all look alike.”  

Then it hit me. *BAM*  I had just said exactly what my older friend said about her granddaughter and her friends.  And I realized that I had morphed into an old woman who couldn’t distinguish one child from another.  

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This means, of course, that now I must admit to my younger friend that I can’t recognize her daughter in the photo.  I can’t help but wonder if my friend will politely listen to me on the phone while chuckling to herself about humoring me, a delightful older woman who is clearly confused by the obvious.  I mean, I would understand where she was coming from… as I was in that same situation only a few short months ago.

Oh yeah.  Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

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Dealing With Cognitive Dissonance, Yet Again

/ Ally Bean / 21 Comments

First, I came upon Jessica Hische’s wonderful website, Thousand Under 90.  It asked me: “Are you a creative person that constantly submits to competitions but never gets in?”  Then it provided me with the opportunity to create an award for myself.

Here it is.  Isn’t it cute?

Screen Shot 2013-05-04 at 11.19.41 AM

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But then I read this insightful article, The Surprising Secret To Selling You, that told me that being awesome may not be as awesome as I think that it is.

“We have a bias — one that operates below our conscious awareness — leading us to prefer the potential for greatness over someone who has already achieved it.”

~ Heidi Grant Halvorson

This left me flummoxed.  Did I not just create an Awesome Award for myself so that I can feel like I am the best?  Was this not the best thing for me to do?  Is gaming the system with my self-created award, perhaps, counterproductive to me winning at the game, whatever it might be?

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I was, as usual, left with that familiar feeling of cognitive dissonance that has underscored most of my life.  You know the one.

“… the feeling of discomfort that results from holding two conflicting beliefs…. a discrepancy between beliefs and behaviors, [wherein] something must change in order to eliminate or reduce the dissonance.”

~ Kendra Cherry

And I begin to wonder if the best change that I could make to reduce my cognitive dissonance might be to keep my Awesome Award secret between you and me, my gentle readers– while continuing to sell myself to the world as someone with potential.

I think that might be the best way to proceed.  As if my Awesome Award, like so many awards, doesn’t mean a thing.  😉

The One With Ally’s Weird Dream

/ Ally Bean / 14 Comments

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First, I’ll tell you about the dream: 

driving in my white coupe down road in flat farm country where I grew up – get behind slow-moving gray van – pass on the left but van pushes me off the road into corn field – drive safely through field and get back on road in front of van – once in front of van my car turns into my blue bike from when I was a girl – ride bike to lowest level of parking garage at a mall near where I live now – lock bike on bike rack – rearrange all of my stuff into bags so that it is comfortable for me to carry – Abby Sciuto [of NCIS] looks on as I do this – then off we go together to shop upstairs in the mall

Then, I’ll explain the weird part: 

In the dream I lock my bike using my girlhood yellow bike lock.  When I first look at the lock I’m dismayed because I don’t know the combination, but then I think about it– and remember the lock combination.  For real. In my dream. The actual lock combination for a lock that I haven’t used in decades. 

Finally, I’ll hypothesize about what this dream might mean: 

  • I’ve flipped for sure this time.
  • My subconscious is telling me that I’ve unlocked something [important?] from my past.
  • I need to stop watching NCIS before I go to sleep.
  • My subconscious is telling me that I’m all organized now, so it is time for me to move on.
  • On the roadways of life, small & determined  [my coupe] trumps large & in the way [the van].
  • My subconscious is telling me that it’s time for me to start exercising more.
  • I’m way cooler in my dreams than I am in real life.

If Shakespeare Had A Coffee Maker, I Know Which One It Would Be

/ Ally Bean / 24 Comments

Last week I learned that I write like William Shakespeare.  I determined this amazing truth when I submitted my Bad Coffee On A Monday Morning post to the I Write Like Analyzer.

Surely, thou gleeking half-faced hedge-pig doth jest.

This revelation surprised me.  I won’t lie.  But being the pragmatic soul that I am, I decided to go about my day as if nothing unique had happened.

What say ye, my spleeny beetle-headed varlot?

So, as planned, I went shopping for a new coffee maker.  And taking heed of all the features and brands that you, my gentle readers, told me to pay attention to, I bought a Cuisinart® Extreme Brew 12-Cup Programmable Coffeemaker.

Forsooth, ’tis better looking & more useful than a churlish hasty-witted ratsbane!

After one week of use, I’m going to say that we like it.  The machine fits on our counter.  It is easy to fill and program.  It makes hot coffee in a reasonable amount of time.  The carafe is sturdy and ergonomically balanced so that pouring hot coffee from it is easy.  All the pieces are dishwasher safe.  And, the price was right.

Which, as any pribbling tickle-brained clack-dish knows, is a good thing.

[Please note, I created all my insults for this post using this wonderful resource: Shakespeare Insult Kit.]

[Hello FTC!  So once again we meet, my wayward pox-marked malt-worm good friend.  As usual, this product review is only my opinion about my experiences.  I’ve received no money or other compensation for it.  Are we good, FTC?]