Annabelle Lewis's Blog

I’ve had Covid for about five weeks. I’m no longer contagious since I’m testing negative, but many of the symptoms persist. With little energy, I’ve neglected much of my life – specifically my writing, but have found comfort in television. So, with my brain fuzzy like I’m drunk – but not in a fun way – I’ll try and elucidate you on my viewing life. Disclaimer: If the sentences or grammar are fucked up, I take zero responsibility. A virus is in control; I’m not behind the wheel.

Beast Games

My daughter scolded me for watching this. She said we shouldn’t support it because there was a “bad working environment” for the people on the show. I’m like – wouldn’t the 1,000 contestants have gotten a clue that it would be grueling just from the name of the show? Have they seen Survivor? Did they sign a contract which stated that in order to be the last person standing and the winner of $5,000,000 it might be an uncomfortable experience and that they’d be put through hell? I couldn’t turn away from the show. And even though it (so far) has been kind of cringeworthy, like – should I be watching this? – I’m going to. Way too entertaining.

Bar Rescue

Yes, with the big scary yelling guy. Jon Taffer. At first I was stressed out watching it, because it’s so intense, but now I can’t turn away. Maybe it’s like Hell’s Kitchen. Never watched that show (but I’ve eaten at the awesome Minneapolis-based restaurant! Super fan!) Okay, so if you’re not getting the premise from the title – it’s just what it says. It’s a failing bar rescue show. And the owners are always screwing things up. And I love that they are being given a second chance to pull their butts out of the fire and turn things around, but I often have little faith that after Jon comes in and makes things better, that they don’t mess it up again when Jon leaves. Sure there is a 2-3 sentence update about what happened 8 weeks or so after the renovation/reset – but what happened six months later? Or one year later? Or …. You get what I’m saying. The problem is that most of the owners were assholes – and/or stupid and/or had personal problems like a bad personality or no brains. And you can’t fix stupid. But still, I’m addicted.

Emelia Perez

Movie. On Netflix. I went in cold knowing nothing about it. It’s up for tons of Golden Globes which was why I forced myself and hubbub, George, to watch it. I sighed heavily and crossed my arms when I saw it had subtitles. I cocked my head and said, “What the fuck?” when the first musical number started up. And then the situation got edgier and grittier as the story unfolded. (No spoilers here). And I didn’t see it coming. None of the twists. Because I went in cold, I’m going to speak little in the way of details about the movie, but rather encourage you to go in for a cold viewing too. Set the remote down and get over yourself during the first 15 minutes of the movie. Stick with it. The twists, and the impact of so many difficult and disturbing societal scenarios were amazing. I’m giving this movie 5 out of 5 stars. No shit. It was that good. And the acting was phenomenal.

Mansfield Park – BBC version

Made in the 1980’s – I was looking for a slow-paced Pride and Prejudice-like experience and had never seen Mansfield Park – also written by the extraordinary Jane Austen. Actually, it was adapted from the book, but I suppose that makes perfect sense. But did they alter the book? I don’t know. I found the show incredibly boring. Painfully boring, like did these people really do nothing with their days? The minutia was tedious. The acting – what the hell was up with the voice and manner of Lady Bertram? I wanted to punch her in the face. Stop it! Why isn’t anyone punching her in the face? And the overacting of Fanny – especially in the one scene when she is wailing at her uncle about her turning down the proposal from Henry Crawford. It was like watching Sybil. And I gave up trying to understand the language (words and accents) in episode 1. I had to stop watching and figure out how to turn on closed captions so I could read the words to understand what they were saying. The next step was interpreting the words/dialog – like a Shakespeare thing – and by the time I was up to speed on what was just said, we were moving on. But then I’d stare out the window and lose track of the show, my mind wandering, thinking about the language and Jane Austen’s genius in taking the simplicity of a moment and using it to illustrate a character’s morality – digging into the human existence and who we are. I tell you, the whole experience was too much for me – and even though I pretty much hated it, I wonder if I should watch the more recent (1999) film? I got some of the social issues Jane was highlighting, (slave trade, cousins in love, women’s roles), but my TikTok/covid brain was out of sync with this show. Forgive me, Jane. I love all your other work.

Dallas – original show

This show has been my bestie. There are 13 seasons, and I had actually started viewing before the covid hit. I looked it up – there are 624 hours of viewing time to get through the Dallas adventures. I’ve been wildly impressed how they kept the storylines fresh and the action going. Full disclosure, I used to live in Dallas, which made the viewing more enjoyable. I recognized a lot of the locations where the show was shot and also worked in one of the famous gold towers too! Oddly, I didn’t really watch the show when it originally aired. Probably because there was no streaming, and it was appointment viewing. I was too busy working and partying to sit in front of the TV much back then. My how times have changed. JR is an absolutely amazing villain. He is truly evil, but Larry Hagman’s performance (he carries the show) makes him often likeable. Much like the character Alexis on Dynasty – you love to see how these villains will manipulate others and generally muck up everyone’s life. Sue Ellen’s alcoholism was painful to watch – so good for the show for getting it right and also to the actress – Linda Gray – for her performance.

Because absolutely no one wants to read this list except me I’m going to lose most of you now while I make a list of the Dallas characters and see what I think about them. Spoilers!

JR Ewing– brilliant. Larry Hagman’s voice, however, is very sweet for a villain. It’s higher pitch than you’d think, and lyrical. And he has a charming, adorable giggle and smile and loads of swagger. He doesn’t seem like he’d be fun in the sack, but the women sure seem to like him. Larry Hagman was a treasure.

Bobby Ewing – Absolutely beautiful. And the good brother. I never ever get tired of looking at him. His ego was tiresome sometimes though. When he died I couldn’t believe it, but then I knew that he was going to come back the next season. As a writer, I was super gripped with anticipation waiting to see how they would pull that off. What they did was reset all the storylines – like Bobby never died. So all the shit that went down in the season he was gone was erased. Okay. I liked it! I bought it. I was so glad to see Bobby back. I don’t know what genius decided that it was a good idea to kill off a main character like Bobby who was so integral to the family and JR’s opposite. I wonder if they were fired? I’m going to go look that up. OMG – it was the actor – Patrick Duffy – who played Bobby. He needed to leave the series for a while and the writers came up with this idea. Wow. I wish I could have listened in on those discussions.

Pamela Barnes Ewing – Bobby’s wife. Gorgeous but stupid. I really didn’t like her. I think she was supposed to be a sympathetic character, but her actions often pissed me off. The going crazy when she couldn’t have a baby. She was so fragile and yet always thought of herself as super strong. She wasn’t. She did yell though. Her ego was huge. Gawd, when Bobby bought her the aerobics studio because she needed something to do? That was so stupid, and I know the audience was just being given eye candy of women in spandex working out. And at the end of Pam’s life on Dallas, when she was burned up – wholly engulfed in huge flames in the car accident – I was horrified that she survived, certain there was no face or body left under the bandages. How did she write those notes while in the hospital? Her bandaged fingers didn’t work. And I kind of understood her running off, leaving her family, to see what she could make of her life and to see if there was a chance of recovery and normalcy, but all the secrecy was dumb. And no one went after her? WTF. “She knows where we are.” And then she was supposed to only be alive for a couple months – so no notice about her death? A funeral? One of my favorite scenes was when Bobby brought home the baby (Christopher) – thinking he just bought JR’s child and was bringing him home to JR – and Pam sees him with the baby and goes “Oh, Bobby” and thinks the baby is for her. And then what could Bobby do but let her believe it! Awesome.

Miss Ellie – why were her hands also clasped in front of her? Why did she always wear box dresses with Peter Pan collars? The collars were so childlike sometimes it felt clown-ish. But then she disappeared from the show for a year and OMG – the actress from It’s a Wonderful Life – Donna Reed stepped in. She was a nice lady – but she absolutely didn’t work for Miss Ellie. I was relieved when Barbara Bel Geddes/Miss Ellie came back. And then the storyline (Did I miss this on season 2-Amazon started the show in the wrong place one time and I was too tired to fix it) said Miss Ellie had a mastectomy so did that explain her dresses and hand placement – always carrying glasses? I feel bad if that was the case.

Jock Ewing – look up rugged in the dictionary. His face is there. He was very powerful, but I didn’t like his misogynistic, domineering, myopic and stubborn view of the world. Had he lived, who knows how he might have changed. Or not. I’m glad they didn’t recast him – oh, but wait. They did bring in an actor – Wes Parmalee – who claimed to be Jock. With a whole new face. But the real Jock had a very deep, gravelly voice and I was glad that they addressed that issue in the storyline – but it was all bullshit. Yet again, they wrapped the storyline fast with Jock’s imposter – him saying that he wasn’t Jock at all. Did he fall on his sword? I wasn’t really sure. Cause what about comparing the real Jock’s and the poser Jock’s x-rays? ALL the breaks were exactly the same. How did imposter guy do that? Yet again, Jock did go down in a chopper into a quicksand type lake in the middle of a South American jungle. Maybe he did survive? Not.

Gary Ewing – I think I missed most of his storyline – I should watch the 2nd season . . .again?  I felt sorry for him mostly. He was just too sensitive and different a person to survive on Southfork with an abusive father, a hands-off, submissive mother, and cut-throat brother.

Lucy Ewing – such a cute girl. So short. I think the storylines around her were lackluster and she disappeared from the show for a long stretch. She was fun to watch – mostly. Loved her and JR throwing barbs. Hated that she was so quick to fall in love. And it didn’t seem like she ever missed her mom and dad. Gary and eat-something-for-God’s-sake-and-stop-wringing-your-hands Valene. Mitch Cooper – Lucy’s husband – the relationship between them was also strange in that they were mismatched, and I didn’t see any chemistry. Mitch was uninterested and uninteresting too.

Ray Krebbs Ewing – uh oh, slept with his niece. Cringe! Although he didn’t know it at the time. I loved his blue eyes and strange teeth/smile. They made him take his shirt off a lot too. I was okay with that until it felt like it was as forced as the load of oil they put on him to make him look sweaty. He was a real cowboy. But sensitive. The egos on these men were a lot. And then he and Donna took up. Which I was really rooting for. Their differences/breakup reasons annoyed me. But I got it. They weren’t right for one another. It was so interesting that they came together over their tragic loss of their special needs child and were headed for a really good place helping those in the community. This was universe they were living in after Bobby died. But then Bobby came back – and whoosh – all storylines went back to what-if-Bobby hadn’t died. And Ray and Donna’s story turned out different. Interesting to think about. Oh hell, and I got to talk about Ray and Jenna. No. Didn’t like it. But I could see it. And it was true that Ray leaving Southfork and starting a new life would probably be good for him as a human and his growth. But damn, Southfork was not the same with him gone. He lent a steadiness to the ranch and was a good person. He had a lot of interesting storylines and the actor did a great job.

Jenna – Pricella Presley – She could act. I didn’t know that. I thought she was good in the role – lots of meaty storylines for her. I thought it was stupid that she kept the identity of her child a secret when she should have fucking told Bobby the truth. He deserved that. At the end though, I didn’t like that she married Ray – Bobby’s brother. I don’t think she really loved Ray– hell, I think she even said this – as much as she loved Bobby. Awkward! And Bobby being the best man and at the head of the altar when she walked up to marry Ray? So crazy and wrong. I thought the actress who played her daughter – Charlie – was good too. I did think that Jenna settled for Ray and was proven kind of a weak person in the end.

Sue Ellen Ewing – she did her best acting when she was suffering. But she always had a kind of tic thing with her jaw movements that bugged me. And her teeth (forgive me for saying this) were so dark. Yes, this was before whitening. And yes, it’s stupid of me to bring this up, especially since my own teeth could use whitening but I can’t because of sensitivity. Anway, I was preoccupied at Sue Ellen’s teeth more than I should have been. Her roles and storylines were awesome – for the most part. (Dancing in a swimsuit when Southfork was taken by armed men? Cringe! Can’t look away!) There were years of bad hair though that challenged me. OMG the monstrous earrings on these women too! Some of the outfits as well – but I was willing to go with it, because fashions change. Moving on. She was a main character and JR’s long suffering wife. The revenge parts – especially when she shot him 3 times – were mostly awesome. How many times did that make for JR to get shot? I’m counting at least 4 bullets. K. When she bought the lingerie line – Valentines? Was that a Victoria Secret rip off? I’m thinking – Dur. But I was okay with it – kind of. But, when she BOUGHT a movie studio with no business plan or background – that was bullshit. Yes, she was rich, but come on. And then she hires a guy to write a story of her and JR’s life. Whatever. There was zero chemistry with the actor they chose for that guy – and she rode off into the sunset with him? (insert loud buzzer sound). I think the writers were at a loss of what else to do with Sue Ellen. Let the poor girl rest, she’s been through enough. I also don’t think she grieved much (at all?) when her lover Nick went over the balcony. She moved on pretty quick from him. It was clever that the writers had Nick’s mob father come in and kidnap JR and interrogate Sue Ellen about who was at fault. What a gripping moment – opportunity – for Sue Ellen. She had JR’s life in her hands – again. I think she made the right decision though to understand that she was partly at fault too and that her child was the most important thing. In the heat of the moment she could pull the trigger – several times – but not with sober reflection. Oh, and the affair Sue Ellen had with the college kid from Blue Lagoon – Christopher Atkins. So much wrong there. Wow.

Mandy – JR’s mistress and eventual partner with and the main face of Sue Ellen’s Valentine’s lingerie thing. I know she’s a real person – but she couldn’t act. And when she was in JR’s arms and the camera zoomed in on her face, it contorted with such unbelievable ecstasy it was almost laughable. Yeah, she was pretty. Okay. But she was pushed as the prettiest person on the planet. It annoyed me. But then, if she suddenly walked into the room, looking like she did back then, would my breath catch? Probably.

Cliff Barnes – what a character. He had amazing story lines – including his impotence – which I thought was brave. (But then he overcame it. K.) He was often comic relief – and the writers built this up a bit which I thought was great. At times though, his quirky manner had me worried for him as a human – like, is there was something wrong with him? Like he was a shaky alcoholic – but he wasn’t. (well maybe the character was…. Sometimes?) His hand movements were strange, and his mood had wild swings. He didn’t really love anyone – but then sometimes he did. But he got over it quickly. The return of Afton and his realization that he finally really did love her was sweet, but Afton wasn’t having it… Really? Why did she have to keep it a secret that she had Cliff’s baby? Why keep Cliff away from the child? Men had absolutely no parental rights back then. It was occasionally touched on – Ray Krebbs with the daughter he’ll only visit – Margaret. And then there was Bobby who had a child with Jenna but was totally cool not being involved with it. Anyway, Cliff should have fought for his child once he knew it was his. He just moved on. He also walked away from his sister, Pam, pretty fast. He didn’t press his only sister to have ANY TYPE of relationship. All in all Cliff was an interesting and important character. Poor Jamie Ewing – he never loved her. But then, why didn’t she know that? The relationship between Cliff and Jamie was another victim of the Bobby dead/Bobby alive thing. Cliff and Jamie were deeply in love when Bobby was dead. When Bobby was alive – not so much.

Carter McKay – most remembered by me from the movie The Dirty Dozen. He was a good villain. And he could cry. Wow. His hands shook though.

Jack Ewing – played by Dack Rambo. What a name. Honestly, he was good in the role, but I had a difficult time with the super tight jeans. Ahem.

Dusty Farlow – ah, how did he recover from being paralyzed? Did I sleep through that? Sue Ellen’s love – why did he have to wear those silly scarves around his neck all the time? I likened it to the character Steven in the show Dynasty who was constantly wearing shirts and sweaters with Princeton plastered on them. I wanted to rip those yukky and silky bandanas off of Dusty. The huge belt buckles, boots, and wranglers were cowboy enough.

Hello? Is anyone still there? I’m going to stop now. George and I are going to a New Year’s Eve party tonight. I hope I remember how to put on mascara. If you see me, I’ll be the one in the corner with the mismatched earrings and bangs in my eyes. During covid, I missed my first hair appointment in years. I can’t do anything about the roots, but I might try cutting my bangs. The problem is, if I fuck it up, I can’t paste the bangs back on. We’ll see how it goes! And drinking wine tonight? I already feel woozy. Can I sneak off and watch some TV with my wineglass runneth over?

The post Things I’m Watching From my Sickbed appeared first on Annabelle Lewis Books.

Where Attempted Humanizing and Dehumanization Intersect. . . or Irony in a Bottle

Here’s a blog that will never make the Walgreens Boots Alliance Webpage under their glowing stories of commitment where they state they are “determined to do right by our customers, patients, and each other.”

My local Walgreens now has a sign in the window of the drive-through with pictures of two smiling people and the words:  “The person caring for you is also someone’s loved one. Please be kind and refrain from disrespectful behavior.”

Note the italics selling us to humanize their staff and the well-mannered begging for the customers to be kind.

I’ve got a question. Why is it that Walgreens Corporation – or Walgreens Boots Alliance (more on that later) doesn’t follow their own advice? Why don’t they think of their employees as someone’s loved ones? Why aren’t they also trying to be kind to their employees? Why are they disrespectful to them? And by extension to the customers. Why is it that WBA doesn’t have to toe the line – only the people literally waiting in the lines and working behind the counters?

For anyone who has ever visited a Walgreens Pharmacy, you’ll know what I’m talking about. I seriously doubt this is a Minneapolis-based problem. For if WBA (hey, CEO Tim Wentworth – I’m talking to you) only had a problem in Minneapolis, you would think corporate would scratch their heads and look into it. What’s going on there in Minneapolis? Golly! We should fix that.

But the problem being ignored is simple. The pharmacies are understaffed. I can’t speak for the employee’s compensation, because I don’t work at Walgreens, but I’m going to Sherlock through this one. If the wages for the employees were super great, there might be more applicants. Right? So I gotta assume that the wages aren’t great, and Walgreens either can’t find enough people to work in the pharmacies because of that…. or…. they have a hiring cap to keep wages down. Which is it? Both? Logic is telling me both. Another big factor is working conditions. Who knew that was a thing?

The lines are long at the Walgreens pharmacy. And the harried staff is exhausted. Hence the sign. Think about that. Conditions are so tense, that they had to post a sign to remind people that their employees are human. Do you see the irony? These people go to work and stand through their entire shift. And the phone rings the entire time, and there are cars lined up in the drive-through, and people staring at them, itching to get to the counter. There is no letup for the pharmacy staff. The last time I was in there, the staff tearfully told me that no one cares. They said that they have begged for help, but . . . (talking to you now, Rick Gates, Senior Vice President and Chief Pharmacy Officer, Walgreen Co.) no one is listening to them. Hey Rick, were you the one who came up with the idea to put a sign in the window to remind the teaming masses of healthcare customers to be kind? Do you have that sign in your Deerfield, IL stores where your headquarters are located? Ever hit the drive-through and see that? And assuming you do see that, how does it make you feel? Do you throw up your hands and shrug, thinking, there’s nothing I can do?

Hey Rick (either one), did you read your mission statement? I’ll list it here for you. Living our purpose, vision, and values. (I added the comma after vision, cause you didn’t). Further breaking that down, you listed your Purpose as: More joyful lives through better health. Okay. How is the mental health of your employees? They are literally crying at the checkout and apologizing for the long delays. No joy there! Your listed Vision is:  To be the leading partner in reimaging local healthcare and well-being for all. How do you think that is going? Have you taken the temperature lately? Was printing signs that asked for customers to humanize the staff a clue? And lastly, your written values are: Courageous, Connected, Committed, Curious. Who the hell thought of these? Okay, Courageous – how are you manifesting that? By spending billions on acquisitions but not helping the mass chaos and trauma in your stores? Connected. Um, have you been to Walgreens Pharmacy lately? Have you spent any time with the employees and listened to their problems? Oh, wait – yes you did. You gave them a sign to post. Committed. To what exactly? And lastly, Curious. Yeah, I am too.

My son had kidney stones last week. Hey, Rick, have you ever experienced that? It’s painful. You’re going to want some pain medication. And while you wait for three hours for that prescription to be filled, there is cold comfort from the Walgreens mantra that you’re determined to do right by your customers, patients, and each other.

Rick Wentworth, and Rick Gates, and maybe even Tracey Brown—another retail executive I chose from the list of top dogs—will probably never read this. But I’m going to steal a part of your vision statement and live with my purpose, vision, and values, by going all out in an effort to be heard. Since, according to your governance, the company’s corporate secretary reviews all communications sent to the board, I decided to become a stockholder.

In order to become legit, I opened a brokerage account and bought shares of Walgreens Boots Alliance. I’m now a corporate stockholder and according to WBA—they value an open dialog with stockholders. Inspired by the great movie Dumb Money which told the story about everyday people who bought stock in GameStop to get rich and fuck with Wall Street, I thought I’d try to manage this stock purchase by myself and not go through my regular guy. I set up an account with Robinhood and funded it so I could invest in the market and make some trades. If I’m reading it right, WBA currently has a dismal downturn in its stock. At the time I purchased it, WBA was selling for $8.99 a share. Walgreens added the Boots Alliance bit after they purchased 45% of the Swiss Pharmaceutical Wholesaler for…. $15.3 Billion. They purchased the rest of the company in 2014 – and, again, if I’m reading this right, spent another $10.7 Billion for the last 55%. That’s a lot of cheddar, yo. Wait. No. That’s an insane amount of cheddar. I don’t know how that purchase is going for Walgreens, but a lot of people got rich. As a stockholder, I suppose I should spend some time trying to figure out how that investment is going. But for now, I really don’t care.

Here’s what I know. Walgreens Boots Alliance had BILLIONS of dollars in their pocket to expand their business. And a big part of that business is Walgreens. So take care of it, Ricks. Read your vision statement.

Your employees are someone’s loved ones and not your corporate chattel. You’ve got your customers by the throat and you’re strangling us. We need healthcare and medicine. You’ve set up the corner shop to do that. And you wrote some mighty fine words about how you want to conduct that business. So do it.

For those of you interested, you can email the board of directors for WBA at:  WBABoard@wba.com

You can also reach them at: Corporate Secretary, 108 Wilmot Road, MS #1858, Deerfield, IL 60015

#helpwallgreensdotherightthing #wallgreenscorpsucks #wallgreenscorporategreed #wallgreensdehumanization

The post Walgreens Has Serious Problems appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

This is either a loaded question or a risky proposition, but I need a vote on this one. A Karen rating scale.

Here’s the story. I made an appointment with my Nissan dealer to have my oil changed, tires rotated, and to get new windshield wipers. It was pretty much a regular maintenance thing for my 60,000 mile SUV. Past experience was that the visit should take about an hour and the dealership has a comfortable waiting area with a big TV, wifi, free water, cookies, coffee, etc. So in my appointment profile, I told them I planned to wait for the vehicle.

Not long after I took my comfy seat and settled in, I got a text from the service crew with a list of items that were critical repairs – totaling about $1800. My service rep appeared and walked me through the list, explaining what was wrong and why it was important to make the repairs. I approved them but said I couldn’t wait the 4 hours it would take for the car to be ready so my guy said no problem, he could get me a courtesy vehicle.

At the cashier, I signed the routine insurance documents, etc and then she told me that I needed to return the loaner with the same level of gas. This is part one of where things went wrong. Let’s break down my options for this situation. What did I do? How did I respond?

Option A:

Smile and say okay, take the loaner, drive 4 miles home. Before returning the loaner to pick up my car, drive to the gas station 1 mile away to top off the tank replenishing the gas for the total of 8 miles driven to and from the dealer. (The car gets roughly 29 miles per gallon – 1 gallon of gas = $3.30. Doesn’t this math work out in Nissan’s favor? Hassle and resentment factor – not really quantifiable).

Option B:

Smile and take the loaner but decide to blow off the gas situation. Feel weird about the short-sighted ask and also over the intention of lying about it all day long.

Option C:

Dive into conversation with the cashier about the logic of the scenario using option A above as a blueprint. Remind them that It’s winter in Minnesota. Stopping at the gas station is never fun, but it’s particularly a pain during the winter. Dive further into the now horribly awkward conversation about losing the “courtesy factor” of the “courtesy vehicle” and all the goodwill of that customer service. Don’t commit to any course of action but stand by the logic and don’t add gas to the tank.

Option D:

Same conversation as Option C – but also ask the cashier if she wants me to wash the curtesy vehicle before returning it too.

(I’ll tell you which option I chose at the end.)

Part Two. The next issue arose when I drove to the dealer to pick up my repaired vehicle. I pulled up to the huge service bay door which rolls up automatically when it senses that a car is waiting to drive inside. The door rolled up, and there was a line of vehicles inside, entirely filling the queue, making it impossible for me to enter. Not knowing the situation and how long I would have to wait for entrance to be gained, I backed up and parked in a spot about 30 feet from the door. I locked the vehicle, walked inside, and went to the cashier. She started the checkout procedure, and I handed her the keys to the loaner and told her where I parked it. She picked up the keys and tried to hand them back to me stating that I needed to move it inside, into the service area.

What did I do?

Option A:

Don’t receive the proffered keys and explain that there was a line of vehicles that prevented me from entering and that I’m not going to move the car. After receiving a look – here it is – ‘Oh my God, this lady is a Karen’, further stumble through words like … ‘I don’t understand what you wanted me to do when I couldn’t get inside? Are you really asking me to go back outside and move it? Why?’ More bad looks come your way, the coloring on the cashier goes through the roof, her mouth is pursed, and she starts mumbling words like ‘never mind’.

Option B:

Same as option A, but add a last line – ‘I used to work at a Mercedes dealership. The customers’ comfort and making their lives as easy as possible were the number one priority at that outfit. Maybe that’s where my head is at’.

Option C:

Take the keys and slip on ice as you walk outside to move the car back in line to wait for an opportunity to drive inside the service area. Feel bitter and impatient that I’m doing their job. Or that they don’t trust me somehow. Having my address, driver’s license, credit card information, signed insurance documents, and $1800 of my money aren’t enough, they need to inspect the mileage, fuel level, and condition of the loaner before allowing me to leave.

This dealership always presses hard for a review after service appointments. More than one text message is sent out, reminding the customer that it would be a huge favor to take the time to fill out the survey. They will even call you if you don’t fill it out, asking what went wrong. What’s interesting is that after my visit, they sent me no survey. Because . . . I’m a Karen? Did they discuss me after I left?

My suggestion to their ridiculous request for me to fill the tank to what it was when I received it, should be adjusted to something like – ‘Hey, the first 50 miles are on us. (2 gallons of gas – $8). After that, if you could be a lamb and top it off, we’d really appreciate it.’ If Nissan can’t afford that, then I don’t know what to say. Cut back on the free cookies.

And now for the answers . . . what did I do? In the first scenario – I did Option C. In the second situation, I did Option A. (But I did work for a Mercedes dealership, and I bit my tongue while I was there really wanting to showcase how that five-star level of service influenced me.)

So, on a scale of 1-10, how bad of a Karen was I?

Thank you for your participation.

Life be crazy. My shrink (don’t let this influence your voting) once said that I was a ‘right fighter’. And while that may be my nature, I should sometimes learn to let it go. Those are true words and believe me when I say that I have held back my witty/snarky/crabby/stabby responses many times in order to protect others from my inner conversations. I’ve not always succeeded, but in the car dealership visit, I really didn’t see the backlash and the ‘you’re-a-Karen eyes’ coming.

Let it goooo, Annabelle. (And if you do get a survey, send them a link to this blog.)

It may be a left brain/right brain fight club thing too.

The post Rate my Level of Karen appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

I live in Minnesota. It is cold during the winter. Really cold. And tires on a car, in case you didn’t know, like to deflate a bit when they are cold. Apparently, it’s important to have the air pressure in your tires correct. Not only that, but the annoying tire pressure warning light will not go off until you fix your problem.

Two science-y bits here you can skip if you want: 

Why do tires deflate in the cold? Because air becomes denser in the cold. What? The molecules in air shrink when they are cold, idiot – so they take up less space and so your tires becomes deflated. Conversely, when air is hot, the molecules expand.

Why is it important to have the correct air pressure in your tires? Because bad shit can happen when you have less control over your steering and braking, like when you need to make a fast stop or a quick maneuver, but your tires are bogged down. Ever ridden a bike with flat tires? They need air to roll.

I have one tire that consistently needs air – and yes, I plan to replace it someday, but the treads are still deep, and this is only a winter problem. My husband, George is in charge of this tire thing, just like I am the only one who can properly and logically load the dishwasher. But George was shirking his responsibility and ignored my verbal prompts until one day when we were in the car together on the way to the dreaded Costco.

Before we left, I asked George to use the gauge and check the tires, and he detected that yeah, the tire was “pretty low”, so I insisted we stop at the nearby Speedway to have it filled because I was tired of having my life endangered and commented that he shouldn’t be so cavalier with my safety. He looked out the window, but I heard the sigh, even if it wasn’t audible. It was going to be a long errand-running day.

I felt a little bad when George hopped out of the car once I carefully positioned the proper side of the vehicle next to the air machine at the gas station because it was bitter cold outside and working your hands without gloves in those conditions can be hard and painful. How cold was it? Like in the negative degrees with the wind blowing. George seemed to be taking a long time standing in front of the machine and not working the hose and after a few minutes, he jumped back into the car. Rubbing his hands, he asked if I had any quarters.

“For what?”

“Air. The credit card machine isn’t working.”

“What?”

George had the center console up and was digging for change. “Are you kidding me with this?” I asked. “Why would they do that? It’s fucking air.”

By now he has handed me my purse and I’m furiously digging for quarters, but since it’s a brand new purse I was coming up empty – I’d recently dumped and cleaned all the contents from my old bag before the transfer – and that included about $50 in loose change. “It’s Minnesota!” I raged. “They shouldn’t be charging for air. What if someone was in trouble from a pressure loss and they have an accident because they couldn’t afford air? Or if they couldn’t find any freaking quarters!” Furiously, I told George I would get us some quarters and then marched inside and waited in line for ten minutes until I got 20 quarters. I was kind to the nice cashier – so don’t think I went all Karen on her – but I did explain that the store shouldn’t be charging for air. And that some things should still be a courtesy. And that the owners should make sure their credit card slots actually worked. Several customers were nodding at my comments and the cashiers both agreed. But I doubt the owners will ever know or make changes.

Both of us back in the car, the tire finally filled and the dashboard hazard light off, I realized that we were low on gas, and pulled out of the lot as I stated to George that he was no longer allowed to give business to that Speedway. Even though I knew he wouldn’t listen to me, he nodded as I drove to another station. At my request, he started the Google going and discovered that in California – air has to be free. California. Right. Does it ever get to negative 50 degrees in California? Do they have a problem with their air molecules there?

“Maybe it’s time to get our own tire pump,” said George.

“And how much does that cost? You’re missing the point. Who decided that charging for air was going to elicit a good feeling? How about a … ‘We know the price for gas is a lot, but dammit, our air is free because it’s stupid to charge for air and we care about you. Our customers are important, and we want you safe. And we want you to shop with us. We’re a company who believes it’s more important that you choose us when you have gas and convenience needs, because our fucking mission statement is that we give a shit.’”

“I’m not sure you’re going to find that mission statement anywhere,” said George. He hopped out at the next station and endured the bitter cold again as I Googled some more – trying to discover where we could get free air. And I felt sad. Really sad. Because it looked like most stations charged for air, or their air machines were always broken. Comments from people in the sinkhole of the internet were not comforting.

I felt like I needed to shake off the experience and move on to getting into the head space for Costco. My hope was that it was so freaking cold outside, people were not shopping. We would be a brave few amongst the smart shoppers. We’d get in and get out.

Once in the lot of Costco, my hopes were dashed as the traffic was bumper to bumper. I pulled in a big gulp of (free) air and tried to settle in.

“Hey,” said George. “Do you have any cash?”

“What?” I asked alarmed. George always paid for our Costco run with our Costco/American Express card. A Costco run could be expensive because we’d let the list grow really long before we trekked over.

“Do you know your PIN number – we could get cash inside?”

I swallowed hard. I knew what was happening. The thing is, George has a bad habit. And I will shame him here a bit, but hey, this is a slice of marriage, folks. Maybe blogging about it will help. George has plenty of money, but he’s chronically disorganized and doesn’t like to pay the bills on time. Why, George, why? For 30 years, he has probably accumulated thousands of dollars – you heard me – with late charges. Totally unnecessary. But he won’t learn and reenacts this process every single painful month for years and years and years. I run from the room with my ears plugged when I hear him trying to convince people with some kind of swagger in his voice that they shouldn’t charge him the late fee. Insane? Yes. It is.

“Did you cancel the Costco/Amex because they charged you a late fee?”

“Do you have the PIN to the debit card or not?” he retorted.

I drove slowly and silently through the lot, wanting to scream as I turned to leave and go home. We were not prepared. And George knew that my silence was the answer.

But you know what? Maybe if Speedway hadn’t charged us for air, it would have gone down better for poor George that day. I totally blame them for everything.

#airshouldbefuckingfree #savegeorge

The post You’re Charging for Air? appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

Read without fear. I’ll give you warning before I launch spoilers. And FYI, it’s not a complete list – just those movies I got to.

BARBIE

My adult daughter and her friends loved this movie and I’d seen enough of the clips to understand that it was going to be clever and amusing. And it was. The opening was hilarious. The first time we saw Barbie and entered Barbieland, I was all smiles and admired the way the movie was shot. And the jokes. The inside-ish jokes that we all get about the dolls, the doll clothes, how girls played with them, the accessories, the marketing craze with all their failures and successes. Lots of work went into this movie and it took a lot of talented people to make it.

But then a few things happened. SPOILERS HERE ON…. The Mattel Headquarters bit, presided over by the wonderfully talented Will Ferrel, didn’t work for me. It was stupid. That entire storyline was pointless to me. But then again, that was part of the problem. What was the story? Yeah, it had one, but it moved at a slow pace interspersed with song and dance numbers that made me check my head, wondering if I had a fever. They were creepy. And too long. And sometimes with Ken, you couldn’t hear the dialog or the words in the song.

Speaking of the dialog, there was a lot of deep cultural commentary (I think that was the meta point of the movie), but it was delivered at a clip and written by a Ph.D. in Sociology.

Back to Barbieland and the evolution of “Classic” Barbie becoming a human – why? So she can become more modern? The doll has a successful coming-to-life experience, but I absolutely hated Barbie’s last scene in the movie. It was not clever. It was cringe-worthy and lame.

Positive takeaways were for Margot Robbie. She was perfectly cast and is a great actor. The voice-over from Helen Mirren and the casting of Rhea Pearlman were inspired choices too – and I loved Rhea Pearlman’s character. Ryan Gosling was okay as the I-Get-The-Joke-Enough-Already Ken. And there was an arc with Ken’s character which I suppose I might have appreciated more – but it was all very juvenile feeling. Like the scene in Mary Poppins when the human actors jump into a cartoon world.

I have no idea what young girls who still play with Barbies will think about this movie and if they will be adversely or positively influenced by it. They will have a lot to think about. Should we be telling them what to think or letting them play with their Barbies so they can discover things for themselves? I’m not sure adults should wield this heavy hammer. But then again, the world is changing.

THE HOLDOVERS

If asked what I thought about this move, imagine me cocking my head way to the side with my face scrunched up. “Well, I was really excited to watch it since it had all the earmarks for something epic. Have you ever seen Terms of Endearment?” An eye-roll comes my way. “Of course you have. It was a slice of life, all about relationships. And it made me cry. Which I adore.” So I was ready for something like that. I thought The Holdlovers, with all its awards and cast with the soulful Paul Giamatti was gonna make me cry. But it didn’t. The production was beautifully shot, and the acting was great, but the story just didn’t seem punchy enough. It’s hard to put my finger on it. Maybe it’s me. What does it take to pierce my hardened shell? The movie was almost quaint juxtaposed next to all the incredible evil and shit going on in the world. I’m so used to ducking and covering all the time, waiting for the next grenade launch on the news cycle… Sorry. It was a good movie. But it was Christmastime both in real life and in the movie, and I really wanted a nice, sentimental cry.

MAY DECEMBER

This movie is another stab at trying to understand the Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Faualaau story. (Come on, Hollywood, we all know the story is about Vili and Mary Kay – why did you give everyone brand new names in the movie? To distance us? So we could take a look at these characters with fresh eyes? Maybe it was aimed toward the Gen Z-ers.)  

Anyhow, Mary Kay was Vili’s teacher. She went to prison for sexual assault against Vili, after initiating a relationship when the poor boy was 12 years old. They had two kids together, both born before Vili was 15. (She already had four other children with her first husband. Sorry kids.) After serving seven years in prison, Mary Kay and Vili continued to stun the world when they got back together and purportedly built some kind of happy life until she died of cancer in 2020.

The tabloids and movie-making machine have been all over this story for years. May December is the latest—based on a true story—jab, this one taking place around the end times for Mary.

Release the lions into the arena. Natalie Portman is an actor playing an actor who will be portraying Mary Kay in a movie. And the girl needs to do some research. Julianne Moore plays Mary Kay. And so the two will meet.

The rest of the cast is interesting, but superfluous to the ride as the movie really focuses on these two, acting their little fannies off. And I’m not kidding, they are both extraordinary in their roles. The guy playing “Joe” (Vili) was also superb – Charles Melton. And he was definitely the most tragic figure for me. I suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise, but such deep psychological dives have been made on Mary Kay, trying to influence us that we are supposed to feel sorry for her. We’ll never know the real story, so it’s hard to know what to think.  But my vote is clear – #TeamVili.

The creepiness of this dark movie left a bad taste in my mouth. SPOILER . . .  (maybe)

Natalie Portman’s character may have been more disturbing than Mary Kay’s. Natalieliterally, biblically wanted in on the Mary Kay experience and had to feel what it was like to be Mary Kay. It’s acting, darling. The role and process is everything. Whatever, Natalie!

Listen, I watched it. So now I can say it’s checked off the list. If it hadn’t been on the list and if I’d known how blechy the movie was, I wouldn’t have watched it. Grade A all around for acting, though.

OPPENHEIMER

I gathered with my clan for this, everyone ready with expectations high for a big oh-my-gawd-that-was-great movie. That’s how it’s touted, right? So why did I have so much trouble with it? First off, I found the beginning scenes really confusing. Cillian Murphy (and his haunting blue eyes) plays Oppenheimer. While asking my family questions, trying to keep up, I annoyingly kept pronouncing Cillian’s name like Killean – because the C at the beginning (instead of an S) I likened with the word Celt – so a hard C sound. “It’s pronounced Sill-ian, mom. Gawd, can we just watch the movie?”

“But what’s happening?” The timeline was everywhere. Some scenes were in color and some and black and white and I assumed—wrongly—that black and white would mean it was from the past and the color scenes were from the present or future. But no, that was incorrect. Later in the movie, the black and white stuff happens even though it’s “present” time. It was difficult throughout. “Follow the hairstyle on SILLian,” George said. “It’s longer when he’s in the past.”

I thought that was a good tip, but then I got lost again. It took me a belated moment to realize that I was looking at Robert Downey, Jr.  He was playing a vital role (I didn’t realize how vital it was until way late in the movie). I adore Robert Downey, Jr. His acting abilities are phenomenal. I remember praying for him—a lot—when he was in prison, super worried all the time. Moving forward, he seems to have overcome his addictions, but what the hell has Hollywood done to him? What is he. . . like 100 pounds? Has he eaten a carb in the last decade? I realize the hair and makeup in the movie were supposed to make him look like an older gentleman but come on. He was gaunt. And now I’m worried about him again.

Once I got the rhythm (sort of) and distractions out of the way, I got confused again about Oppenheimer’s love life. The character introductions of Florence Pugh and Emily Blunt were choppy. “Wait, isn’t Emily Blunt married to someone else? Is Florence Pugh his wife?”

“Stop talking, Mom!”

“Oh look, that’s Josh Hartnett! He’s such a cutie.”

And then Matt Damon came into the movie as an American General and it all started making sense. He took control and grounded me in reality. Oppenheimer and his life were peyote-type messy, but Damon had a job to do that I understood.

The movie was basically about the famous and brilliant physicist Oppenheimer (dur) and his guilt about having a hand in developing the atomic bomb. Or was it the hydrogen bomb? Both? And about his personal life, and how during the McCarthyism times, he was investigated for being a communist. Kay. As always, you gotta love the chain-smoking white men politicians in dark rooms manipulating the world. I started picturing Joe Pesci in the movie JFK screaming that it was “a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma.” Everyone was losing their shit and Truman called Oppenheimer a crybaby. Was there a spy at Los Alamos? I think so, but then my brain decided it was working too hard, and I fell asleep with about 30 minutes left to go in the movie.

Finishing up the next day, the last scenes make the motivation of people clearer, and the movie ends with a nice wrap-up between Einstein and Oppenheimer. The movie was about guilt. Which is what we knew from the onset. And that humans are manipulative, short-sighted, and stupid.

AIR

I’m not burying the lead . . . I loved this movie. It made me smile and even laugh out loud. The boys are back with Matt Damon and Ben Affleck and it’s fun to see them together. They know how to put together a story and how to make an entertaining movie. And they don’t skimp on the budget for the licensing fees for classic music. I’m curious how much they paid Springsteen. And kudos to the set designers for getting the 1984 vibe just right.

If you don’t already know, this is about the marketing magic that came together between the basketball legend Michael Jordan and his relationship with Nike. They made the infamous shoe—Air Jordan—and they all got rich and changed the industry. (I won’t say how because of Spoilers). The acting was superb. And I get an anticipatory gleefulness whenever Jason Bateman has a line. He’s just awesome. The entire cast was filled with surprises. Matthew Maher as the shoe creator was hilarious as was Chris Messina as Michael’s agent. Michael’s mama was played by Viola Davis. Need I say more?

It’s a behind-the-scenes look at how an iconic American success story happened. Break out the popcorn.  

LEAVE THE WORLD BEHIND

I don’t think this movie received any Golden Globe nominations. After watching it, I googled the awards question, but 50 non-related sites to my query popped up. (Don’t you hate it when that happens?) But I don’t think further due diligence is a deal breaker for this blog. So why is this movie on this list? Because my daughter wanted to watch it. And I’m Jello in her hands.

I’m also including a review here because I really liked this movie. It grabs you fast and doesn’t let go. I dare you to turn it off. The sleek camera work and the suspenseful plot were everything. And I’m frightened thinking about the possibility that something like this could happen in the future. Because it could. I probably didn’t need more shit in my head about end-of-the-world stuff. But . . . SPOILER . . . . (stop reading now if you need to)

Whispering. . . .

But was it the end of the world for everyone or just the end of the U.S.? Because there would be serious if not catastrophic ripple effects, right? So to all of you world dominance and country destroyers out there, I’ll give you a hat tip from Jurassic Park – clever girl. But plot carefully.

There is a ton of chatter about the end of the movie. For me, I don’t enjoy books and movies that have no clear endings. But the options about which way to end this movie would be endless. And the hourglass only held so much sand. The writers probably batted it around for a while and then just threw up their hands. This movie could be the framework for a series. Anything could happen. But none of it would be good. The United States would most likely be destroyed. Millions would die. Probably. Unless we could fix communications and get emergency relief fast. Are we ready for that? Are people in the U.S. government paying attention? The good ones? The ones who care about the population and not some new world order? There is so much shit about how smart AI is – run some scenarios through that bitch and see what she says. Would it be like War Games with the computer learning from Tic-Tac-Toe? What would Hal spit out? I may never sleep again.    

MAESTRO

I gave the movie four stars because it was really well made and the acting was superb, but I held out awarding the last one because it was so deeply esoteric and artsy and not truly my cup of tea. But then I’m an American mutt and not some world-renowned artist whose name will forever be coupled with the angels of music who bring forth ambrosia for the rest of us mortals to enjoy.  

Bradley Cooper was magnificent, and I truly forgot it was him while watching it. Carey Mulligan can soften the hardest of hearts with her entrancing-like face and teary expressions and deserves whatever awards come her way too.

Since it was a bio picture of the conductor and composer Leonard Bernstein, I’m not sure how much I can criticize or comment on the man’s behavior. I learned a lot about him and his super complicated and at times beautiful relationship with his wife, children, and even friends, and I suppose I ended with the understanding that he was human first, but so tightly meshed within his craft and listening to his heart that the two blended. He was his art. And others, painfully at times, made room for him to be that.

I learned a bit about the importance of a conductor too. And that was interesting.

The post 2024 Golden Globe Nominee Reviews appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

Thank you, San Francisco Writers’ Grotto for the writing prompt and to my friend, Jane, for the inspiration. Write a story in which each sentence will begin with a different letter of the alphabet, beginning with the letter A, and moving sequentially, i.e., B, C, D, and so forth.

A single Cheeto lay on the stoop in front of my front door.

Baffling and profoundly bothersome, I closed my eyes and focused on my task.

Count backwards from ten, my therapist had said.

Do it.

Essential to the calming exercise was my ability to block out my environment and envision myself elsewhere.

Factoring in the biting cold of the winter breeze that nipped at my face and nose, begging me to just overstep the dreaded Cheeto and open the door of my home and go inside, I instead chose to face my perversely ludicrous opponent pulsing proudly and preening near my feet.

Gravity pulled on my body, rooting me in place, unswayable as I contemplated my count backwards while gaping at the orange blob of my madness.

Honor bound me to keep the promise I made to myself and my shrink.

It was time to defeat the Cheeto.

Jaw clenched, eyes boring into the mysterious morsel of cornmeal that had taken over my mind, I began my count.

Kismet had brought the orange creature into my life to first torture me with questions of how it got there, but then later, forming a malevolent obsession which was driving me mad.

Lost and swirling through an orange colored wormhole, I spoke the numbers aloud, focusing only on their shapes, the curves of the sleek number 8, two balls sitting on top of each other, the 7 with the diagonal slant of the stem and the crisp short horizontal line.

Minutes passed, but there was no six.

Numbers, numbers, out you damned spot!

Often when stuck in the exorcistic exercise, a forced re-set was required, but oh how deflating it was to begin again.

Past caring what others might think if they knew of my farcical struggle, I stammered out the rest of the pack.

Quicky.

Relief flooded my system as I reached the end of the count, but it was time for the final and brutal step.

Scary as if sticking my hand in a black hole of nothingness only to have it bitten by an unknowable presence, I reached down and plucked the Cheeto off the ground.

Tonight I defeat you!

Utterly joyful, I smashed the Cheeto against my front door, watching it crumble and die.

Victory was mine, I breathed.

Warmth spread through me as the powdery dust of my tormentor was whirled up and thoroughly retrieved by a friendly gust of wind.

Xena the Warrior Princess has nothing on me.

Yet, where was my enemy now, what or who would be next?

Zombies!

The post Middle of the Night Writing Exercise. appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

Is anyone else skeeved out by the Lume girl? Her weirdly sweaty face with her cocked head leaning into the camera smiling like someone jacked up on Mountain Dew talking about a deodorant for special girl places creeps the shit out of me.

I assumed the expensive product I didn’t know we needed was for all those yoga enthusiasts, but it’s not an antiperspirant. And if you’re in a cult like Bikram yoga – watch creepy video on the speedo-clad yogi on Netflix – or even attend hot yoga, sweating is like a badge.

I can’t speak to how the product works or if it works, I’m just saying that every time I see that woman on the screen, all I can think about is her weird energy talking about private parts and how much she must stink. Sorry. Just had to get that off my chest. Which, by the way, I just exfoliated (along with my face and neck) with an amazing lavender sugar scrub cube followed by a generous application of the awesome product from Belief – their Aqua Bomb. Now that’s a one-two that I highly recommend.

I hope you think I smell good – because I do.

Moving on to the commercial that makes me lunge for the remote – Karz4Kids. 1-877-Cars for Kids, 1-877-cars-for-kids, 1-877 . . . insert image of me screaming and plugging my ears. The weird kids doing a rip-off on the awesome Robert Palmer video along with the over-the-top repeat of the song is too much. And it’s always on. What is the advertising budget for this company? Since I’m thinking millions, I’m wondering why they just don’t donate that money to the charity. Cause it is a charity, right? Ah, wormhole, I’ll be right back. Yeah, it’s a charity for kids. Dur. And they have some pretty world-dominating corporate sponsors – Microsoft, Merck, HP, Allstate. I’m assuming the commercial is pretty effective, or they wouldn’t still be running after what seems like years. But enough already!

Just in case you’re wondering, there are some commercials I love. I could watch Peyton Manning sell anything. His delivery is awesome, his sense of humor sings. The – I love me a saucy sheriff – from Bush’s Baked Beans makes me smile every single time. Another ad campaign that just never gets old is from Progressive Insurance. Always clever and fresh. Another bad boy is Mayhem from the State Farm commercials. Thank you Dean Gerard Winters. Roar.

Everyone gets songs stuck in their head, but I’ve noticed that I’m particularly triggered to a brain infestation by certain songs. The Karz4Kids theme song is one. The great song Seasons in the Sun is another. And the other day I stumbled across an old throwback– Eres Tú. I’d forgotten about that gem, but for the last three days, it’s been running through my head. Eres Tú translates to It’s You.  Like . . . “the wheat of my bread – it’s you, it’s you”. Got it. I like the song, but it’s three and a half minutes long and the use of the words Eres tú take up about three minutes of it. I don’t have anything to base that on – I haven’t clocked the ratio out, but it feels correct based on the song currently circling in my temporal lobe in a phonological loop. My god, I can’t imagine me sitting there counting the uses of Eres tú in the song. Sure, I’d get hero points for supplying you with that random trivia, but you’re on your own. I dare you to listen to it.

Got any others? I’d love to make a list. Then we can make history together and really make the awesomely popular hashtag below sing.

#songsthatmakemytemporallobegonuts

The post Commercials and Songs Making Me Crazy (and a few good ones, too) appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

Is anyone else skeeved out by the Lume girl? Her weirdly sweaty face with her cocked head leaning into the camera smiling like someone jacked up on Mountain Dew talking about a deodorant for special girl places creeps the shit out of me.

I assumed the expensive product I didn’t know we needed was for all those yoga enthusiasts, but it’s not an antiperspirant. And if you’re in a cult like Bikram yoga – watch creepy video on the speedo-clad yogi on Netflix – or even attend hot yoga, sweating is like a badge.

I can’t speak to how the product works or if it works, I’m just saying that every time I see that woman on the screen, all I can think about is her weird energy talking about private parts and how much she must stink. Sorry. Just had to get that off my chest. Which, by the way, I just exfoliated (along with my face and neck) with an amazing lavender sugar scrub cube followed by a generous application of the awesome product from Belief – their Aqua Bomb. Now that’s a one-two that I highly recommend.

I hope you think I smell good – because I do.

Moving on to the commercial that makes me lunge for the remote – Karz4Kids. 1-877-Cars for Kids, 1-877-cars-for-kids, 1-877 . . . insert image of me screaming and plugging my ears. The weird kids doing a rip-off on the awesome Robert Palmer video along with the over-the-top repeat of the song is too much. And it’s always on. What is the advertising budget for this company? Since I’m thinking millions, I’m wondering why they just don’t donate that money to the charity. Cause it is a charity, right? Ah, wormhole, I’ll be right back. Yeah, it’s a charity for kids. Dur. And they have some pretty world-dominating corporate sponsors – Microsoft, Merck, HP, Allstate. I’m assuming the commercial is pretty effective, or they wouldn’t still be running after what seems like years. But enough already!

Everyone gets songs stuck in their head, but I’ve noticed that I’m particularly triggered to a brain infestation by certain songs. The Karz4Kids theme song is one. The great song Seasons in the Sun is another. And the other day I stumbled across an old throwback– Eres Tú. I’d forgotten about that gem, but for the last three days, it’s been running through my head. Eres Tú translates to It’s You.  Like . . . “the wheat of my bread – it’s you, it’s you”. Got it. I like the song, but it’s three and a half minutes long and the use of the words Eres tú take up about three minutes of it. I don’t have anything to base that on – I haven’t clocked the ratio out, but it feels correct based on the song currently circling in my temporal lobe in a phonological loop. My god, I can’t imagine me sitting there counting the uses of Eres tú in the song. Sure, I’d get hero points for supplying you with that random trivia, but you’re on your own. I dare you to listen to it.

Got any others? I’d love to make a list. Then we can make history together and really make the awesomely popular hashtag below sing.

#songsthatmakemytemporallobegonuts

The post Commercials and Songs Making Me Crazy appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

This was a writing prompt I came across while procrastinating on my latest WIP (work in progress). My book/WIP needs a warehouse filled with whiteboards and a medicated staff to untangle the discombobulated thought streams my brain shot out on the active storylines.

So I thought this writing prompt might clear away the clutter in my brain.

But the prompt says “item”. What’s an item? Do I have to take that literally?

Item could be used as a verb. As in we “made note of” in a grocery list. So of the items on the current grocery list stuck to the fridge – I would choose “Cheese in a Can”. My son’s entry – but he would be grateful for that item. Which would then turn into a noun. So cheese can is now an “article” or a “particular”.

But is that really the item I’m most grateful for? It is not. The first thing that came to my mind was the air conditioning. But I was experiencing a hot flash when I saw the prompt – so yeah. And is air conditioning an item? It’s kind of a system, right?

I presume appliances could be items, but would I be cheating the prompt if said appliances – plural? Like if a genie granted you three wishes and the first one you asked for was unlimited wishes. A genie might kick you in the ass for that answer. It’s a delicate game.

If I had to pick one appliance what would that be? The coffee maker is pretty awesome – but I could always drive out and get a cup somewhere. The washing machine comes to mind. I’ve used public laundry mats – but if memory serves – it wasn’t a great experience and the only thing that got me through the ookiness perseveration dwelling on stranger debris from previous use were handfuls of cheese popcorn and Dr. Pepper. So my own personal washing machine is a contender.

Golly, I could write this blog all day! What a terrific excuse to avoid staring down the 40,000-word outline of the WIP.

Another contender category for item might be something sentimental. My daughter’s teddy bear – Scooper is practically a person. Scooper is not replaceable. What about my glasses? I’m blind – I can’t see without them or contacts. So yeah. Eyeglasses should be at the top of my list. My son wouldn’t care about that though – he’d pick his laptop.

And my laptop contains everything I’ve ever written. All the files on my books – those both complete and in progress. If I lost my laptop – the WIP would be gone!

Swoooooooon.

Sorry – felt a bit faint there for a moment. An emotional reaction to losing my laptop? Too much caffeine? Nope – just another effing hot flash. What about my hormone patch? That’s an extremely useful item – where the hell would I be without those suckers? When my hot flashes began, they came at me like a tsunami. They hit hard, fast, and would not stop. I had one every 45 minutes of the 24 day and didn’t sleep for a year. I eventually sat weeping at the gynecologist’s office and she rightly offered up the estrogen patch to stop the murderous thoughts that were a tad too close to the surface for her comfort. And yes, the patches helped. A lot. I still get flashes, but nothing like the whooshing tidal waves that endlessly hit me over and over and over.

Should I pick my box of patches? Is that my item? But ITEM is singular. And I need two patches a week. That’s plural.

I’m not doing that. I’m feeling agitated just thinking about it.

I’m done with this game. I guess I’ll just pick cheese can. At least my son will be happy.

And now back to the WIP. Do readers understand the angst and devotion we writers endure? Turn left, turn right, cheese can, hormones, glasses, and teddy bears. My God! There are murderous villains roaming the streets and they must be stopped! It’s my job to finish the WIP. No one else can do it. Fill the dining room walls with multi-colored Post-its and string if you have to, but get the job done!

This madness must end. The cheese can should wait.

The post What item in your house are you most grateful for? (And why I picked Cheese Can.) appeared first on Annabelle Lewis.

First off, you’re probably not an idiot. So remind yourself of that often during your writing journey. Second, I wrote this while heavily intoxicated on a cocktail of binge-watching three seasons of House and then experiencing a total tech meltdown. Step into my cage of honesty and rage. You’ve been warned.

I’m a writer. That’s really all I want to do. Write my stories. And I want others to read my stories because only then will my characters come alive and not just live in my head. And they and their worlds will be known.

But hang on. Slow down, fella. You have to learn ten thousand other things in order to stay in step with the various tech and marketing aspects that will help you market your book. Or no one will read it.

I’m not kidding. You’re basically fucked. Strap in and learn. You got no choice. You could win the lotto or crack open your savings to hire someone to help you, but regardless if you get a publishing deal, (another herculean task and mountain to climb) those old-time, hand-holding publishers and agents of yore are gone. So however you’re published, you better get adept quickly and earn your BA in marketing, digital marketing, and the coding world in general. Algorithms? Learn them. Every different platform has a different algorithm and learning curve that – uh oh, may also affect your other platforms and choices. When that happens or something new appears or changes? Fuck off and re-learn it again.

And again.

Wait. Did you hear that? As soon as I type this, I better type it again. Ah, again. There’s always more to learn.

In the beginning, after finishing my first story, I innocently slipped on the ruby slippers and skipped down the yellow brick road with a cheering crowd behind my back. Live your dream, the gurus gleefully chanted! You can do it, your friends said. Be true to yourself, some of your family burbled. Go for it, the dog woofed.

Blech. I want to boke. (Watch Derry Girls for reference you animals).

There was so much I didn’t know. Such a long road stretched before me. And so many perils. But did I meet a friend? A scarecrow? Sure. I found a writing group and most of them were cool. Some—I won’t name names—were a little challenging to manage, but for the most part, I found the other writers interestingly similar in that they were all super curious people who listened and enjoyed a story – whether it be a short one told over coffee – or a full-length book. I did meet one guy at a mystery writer’s convention who said he didn’t need a website or any marketing plan. He gave me his card. It had his picture and phone number on it. Now that was interesting. And hey, maybe he’ll do fine. But his dilated pupils may have spoken more. Then again, there’s a story in that life too. And I really want to hear it.

A writer pokes their head out every so often like the groundhog Punxsutawney Phil. Am I ready to share my work? Should I go back to the storyboard and have character Evan kill character Bertram because he’s a loose end? Visualizing the tiles fall in some world-champion domino competition plinking down a corkscrew path, the writer watches the storyboard unravel as the plastic blocks fall – and then, boom. Everything changes. All chapters would need to be rewritten. Character motivations. Consequences. Fallout. Should I? Shouldn’t I?

What are you doing? Stop writing! Stop dreaming. That’s not your job. Wake up, writer. What happens when you finally type ‘The End’? Well, it’s not the end. Come on. Get out of the story. Look around at your life. Your messy house. The undone dishes. When was the last time you went to the grocery store? Why is there no food in the house and dust on every surface? Did you miss the recycling day again?

Time to grow up. Sure. Find an agent. A publishing deal. Good for you. But like I said, put those aspirations aside for a moment and relax your exuberant grip on the celebratory bottle of champagne that you’ll drink alone because no one understands the journey you’ve lived but you.

Because the dream has burst. It’s time to talk about marketing.

I hate you marketing! Shut up and watch a million seminars and videos. Get a brand. Oh . . . and Write. To. Genre.

Wait! I thought I could just write the story that bled from my heart, soul, and brain. No. You can’t do that, says the newly minted hotshot publicity group. You have to Write. To. Genre. Hit those content markers most interesting for a specific and particular audience. Otherwise, it’s not marketable. And in this world where everything is digital and Kindle Unlimited or free – no one will be interested, let alone get out their VISA and buy it. Even for two bucks. (FU woman on Facebook who was complaining about spending $3.99 on a book).

What? I whimper. Well, what do I do now that I’ve written a 100,000 word book from my heart? Well, let’s break it down. And it’s always best to start at the beginning. Burn what you’ve written and start again. It’s gotta be marketable.

You have to have a website. And own real estate on all social marketing platforms. You better learn how to use Tik Tok – or…. wait, will that be a waste of time? Will it be taken down? Read blogs about content. No wait – write blogs with content. I gotta write blogs now? Yes. Blog! Fucking do it. And for god’s sake use a filter when you shoot yourself on video. Yes, become an actor, film producer, and editor too.

Learn how to use Canva or some other digitally creative graphics place to make a coherent and strategically appealing brand look for Pinterest – cause those YouTube videos you watched of uber-successful people – most super pretty girls (hmm) of how important and hugely successful you can be if you use Pinterest and Instagram is real.

Be on social media everywhere. Engage, bitches.

Get a website! Pay a bunch for it or develop it yourself. Code? Step closer to the glass, Clarice. I’m waiting for you.

Find subscribers. To do that – give your work away for free then watch people take and take and take and never hear a word from them in return. See posts where people gleefully brag about their bloated TBR (to be read) pile. But you’ve got to give them something so they’ll come back for more – in case, just in case, they’ll be interested in your work. Just in case, with a sliver of hope in your wee little heart – they’ll like your story. And live with the characters that you breathed. And then . . . gulp. Will they come back for more? Will they tell someone else about your book? Will they (pipe dream) leave a review? I’m begging you to hear and believe these words young, naïve, susceptible, and mentally intact author – your friends and family will disappoint you. Even when you ask them for help. They won’t get it. “I’ll show you apples,” they’ll say as you wince from the invisible wounds created by their resounding silence and hurtful inaction. But never let it show! What are you gonna do? Scold them?

Okay, so you got subscribers. (Real ones? Takers? Taker/Unsubscribers? Sorry, I’ll get a drink, or two, and calm down).

So there’s a long list of ways to find subscribers. But then you absolutely have to have a newsletter. Or a way to engage with them and interact. But how often do you send it? What about podcasts? What? There are thousands  – wait  – millions of podcasts all vying for people to listen to. But I have actual reader’s email address – I can just email them and get their attention. Because I’ll give them something of value! No. Not your words – swag. That’s what the experts-on-every-corner will advise!

Whip out that VISA. Get the swag going – along with the free copies of your books. Hey, have you ever been to a book festival? Don’t go if you’re depressed. Because there will be rows and rows of what? Authors and their books and just a few nervous-as-cats humans parading down aisles of anxious yet-oh-so-chill authors eyeballing them as the meat-readers troll the aisles and browse. Or to grab some free swag – or candy – while their freshly face-painted kids (funded by the author’s entrance fees) skip along to their next give-me give-me sticky-fingered moment of their day.

But I digress. What? Have you seen that pattern? Take a deep breath, stretch, kegel, then throw back a shot.

Okay, so you subscribe ($$) to an email marketing platform so you can get a digital template to fill with wonderful, click-baiting and swag-filled content, the template tech building a google-filled, tutorial driven, no customer support, crying in the dark with no answers, soul building? experience.

But you got this thing! This email. It’s got content, baby. And you tackled the meta shit, and SEO, and keywords, and google analytics, and understood and instigated the integration until one day . .  . one day, you get to press send.

And what happens? Do you feel alone? How many stars are there in the universe? Two hundred billion trillion. Don’t worry though. I’m sure your email got through.

You’re an idiot. Did you validate your domain? Did you authenticate your domain? Wait – did you align your domain? What the fuck is that? Better check it out. Turns out, your newsletter won’t even be successfully delivered to your own email address. No matter how many tricks you use. It’s all spam baby.

But they will take your money. They being tons of platforms authors have to use to take the “necessary” and “basic” steps to market their work. And beware. Everyone will try to sell you something. A marketing strategy. A campaign. An email flood to bona fide readers. A tool. An upgrade. Pay per click. Amazon ads. Facebook ads. Graphics design. Thousands of dollars spent on what? Marketing. Not the money you were more or less happy to spend on professionally editing your story. Or on quality cover design. Or proofreading. Or interior design. To get your story out.

Because you – once long, long ago, were in Kansas and believed in your story. And you, and you . . . and you, were there.

Go back to that safe place, writer. It’s your refuge. Your comforting weighted blanket. Your beautifully creative world.

And if no one sees your work? Well then,

the cursor blinks . . blinks . . . and blinks . . . and blinks . . .

please remember to love yourself.

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