Lilly Ledbetter

From Snuggies to vitriol…

Some of you may have seen the news yesterday about the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. Lilly Ledbetter spent 19 years working at the Goodyear plant in Gadsden Alabama as a supervisor. Just before she retired, she found out that for those 19 years, she had been paid less than her male counterparts – even the ones with much less experience (and we're not talking 1962 - this case was from 2002!).

The lower courts decided that Goodyear was guilty [even if the plant IS in Alabama], but the Supreme Court threw out Ledbetter’s case, ruling that she should have filed her suit within 180 days of the first time she was discriminated against [i.e., she was a little tardy hacking into the payroll records].

19 years? The first thing I thought of was that her HR department can sure keep a secret better than any HR department I have ever worked with. The second thing I thought of was…who in the world at Goodyear made the decision to fight this, with all of its boffo publicity? Perhaps Goodyear should’ve just paid the $300k penalty?? “Congratulations on your Supreme Court victory [ummmm, remind me never to buy Goodyear tires again, would you?].”

So yesterday the President signed a law that wrote that nonsense off the books and gave people 180 days from the last act of discrimination to file a claim. Seems pretty reasonable.

But only FIVE Republican Senators voted in favor of it…four women and Arlen Specter. Seriously? Are those other 34 Senators married to a potted plant? How exactly did they explain their vote to their wife????

--We think women already make too much money
--I ran for office on a law and order platform and insist on seeing lawbreakers appropriately punished. Oh…wait a minute here….
--If you don’t stand up and cause trouble when you are brand-spanking new during the first six months on a new job, than I can't help you.

Apparently, these senators do not know any of the women I work with, live with, am related to….ummm these senators don’t know any women, do they?? So what would the Republicans who voted against this bill have in place? As long as you don’t get caught discriminating against someone in the first six months – you are grandfathered in! Nice. So let me just get this straight…we don’t want amnesty for law-abiding “undocumenteds”, but we are okay with amnesty for law-breaking discriminators. Just sayin'

Now back to my Snuggie.

Snuggies

Has everyone seen the “Snuggie” made famous by the late night infommercial? I’ll try to embed it here in the blog – not sure it will work.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqHSIiAXdSU

It is one of the “AS SEEN ON TV” specials offered on late-night TV or at your local Walgreen’s. [What is this – the 1960’s? How much of a pedigree is the “as-seen-on-tv” tag line?? Ronco as a luxury brand.] Anyway…the Snuggie is essentially a wear-able blanket. A blanket with arms. Honest to god. Like…if your bathrobe is too form fitting – THIS may be the answer for you.

Anyway…some friends were over for dinner Monday night (some friends who apparently don’t want to be asked back) when they asked me if I had seen this particular late-night commercial because…"it made us think of you". Ummmm…Oh. No. You. Did-ent. “Made us think of you”…like a pig in a blanket? Like the rest of my mumu-based wardrobe??? What are you saying? Oh…I see…because the commercial shows people wearing it at a football game. Got it. They show CHEERLEADERS at a football game too, y’know. Funny how THAT doesn’t make you think of me.

It does seem like the PERFECT gift:
- When $20 is just TOO much to pay for an outer-layer
- For all your square-sized friends
- When you just want to say the word “snuggie” [Boss’s Day, perhaps?]
- For that occasion when pajamas are a little too dressy
- When a zipper seems daunting

Well, gotta run – this thing is NOT easy to type in.

Molly's Xmas Sweater

I am trying not to read too much into the fact that so many of my recent posts are about my dog. I am able to rationalize that it’s because she can’t comment back and NOT because my dog = my life [not that there’s anything wrong with that, Phoebe, Jasper, Cyrus, Cricket, Capo’s moms].

I actually HAVE to blog about my dog now because I have officially fallen into that category of people who-buy-clothes-for-their-dogs. (there is an alarmingly high correlation between clothes-buying dog owners and blog authors…but I digress). You see, in a somewhat vain attempt to keep the dog hair around the house to a thin layer, Molly gets shaved within an inch of her life about every 3 weeks. Every time she grows enough hair so as to effect a decent sunblock, we march her down to the hair salon to get a buzz-cut…we pay extra for the “ultrasuede” length.

I worry that she may get cold when the wind chill here in SD drops into the 50’s. So I THOUGHT I would get Molly a little festive Christmas sweater that she could wear while chasing the mailman on her walks around the neighborhood. But in my nothing’s-too-good-for-MY-dog efforts, I could ONLY find the following.

Ooohhhh, check out that picture – I think she’s pretty intimidating in the K-9 Special Forces garb, don’t you? The damn thing is fur-lined! She looks like one of the Village People. I made her sleep in it the first night, but then I was all disoriented when I woke up and thought the FBI were raiding the house again. If the poor thing ever has to pick up trash on the side of the highway – she’s got the wardrobe for it.

Mother of the year.

President Bush's Farewell

President Bush has had more farewell tours than Tina Turner. Honest-to-god - I think he started saying goodbye in 2006. And. I’m. Just. Glad. It’s. Over. (It really is over, isn’t it????) The President who didn’t give a single interview in the last two years (Infomercials at Fox News notwithstanding) – is suddenly sitting down with Charlie Gibson and Brian Williams and even the Crawford High Gazette. In his last week in office, he gave a final press conference AND an address to the nation. What could George W. possibly say that would change anyone’s mind about his tortured tenure? [ummmmm...no pun intended]

--"See I TOLD YOU that Enron thing could have been a heckuva a lot worse. I think recent history has clearly vindicated me on that."

--Whenever you watch W.’s speeches – if you just fill in all his awkward pauses with the words “you idiots” – then his entire presidency makes sense. It works…

“Every morning, I received a briefing on the threats to our Nation [pause]. And I vowed to do everything in my power to keep us safe [pause].”

“There is legitimate debate about many of these decisions. But there can be little debate about the results [pause].”

“I have often spoken to you about good and evil [pause]. This has made some uncomfortable. But good and evil are present in this world, and between the two there can be no compromise, [pause]”

--And in the you-can’t-make-it-up category, George W. specifically told the national press corps that “sometimes you misunderestimated me”. Now.…THAT...that's just plain truthiness. (Oh W., what WILL Stephen Colbert do without you?)

And in the final act of his image makeover, W. even drafted a note for Obama that he left in the Oval Office. Why do I KNOW there was at least one smiley face in that damn thing? =)

Y’know…we could have avoided ALL of this if we would have just given him that baseball commissioner's job in 1998. Seriously, the Pittsburgh Pirates would need a bailout, but my 401k would be intact.

Search Engine

The whole practice of accessing SaveMeTheCall from a search engine makes me more than a little nervous. See…my blog is included in the google universe and anyone can access this little gem from an errant google search. The good news is that anyone who accidentally(!) loses the link to my blog can find it by google-ing SaveMeTheCall. The bad news…I have to make sure that my first and last name NEVER, EVER appear in the same post. I mean…it’s one thing if I put Ann McConville’s name in the blog and all my SISTER’S co-workers find out all this crap about her crazy family [sorry sis] but…back-to-me…it’s Another. Thing. Entirely if MY google legacy becomes linked to stories of me walking into plate glass windows.

Of course…my "big-brother" tracer tells me when people access my blog from a search engine and…what key word They. Used. To. Find. Me [dude – everything about us is in a database somewhere]. So imagine my alarm…when I found more than a few poor souls stumbling across SaveMeTheCall by googling….Momofoku. That’s right…somebody [IP address 210.88.13.143] wanted to know restaurant hours or whether the place really served ONLY noodles [it’s true] and INSTEAD ended up reading a hilarious account of Hoosiers in Gotham. Well, their average stay was 11 seconds – so maybe they weren’t THAT interested in this Hoosier’s stay in the big city, but still. I haven’t noticed any return visits from Mr. NYC IP address either. (But what in the world makes you click on SaveMeTheCall as the best answer to a Momofoku google search??) But THEN I thought – uh, oh – can I be held criminally liable for something I wrote in a blog???? What the foku did I say about Momofoku??

Did I mention that my number of hits from google increases with every Momofoku reference?

And ummmmm…Sister who’s name begins with N – I hate to tell you this – but do you know anyone in New Jersey that really wants to get a hold of you?? We seem to have a New Jersey IP address that upon googling - your name + “Nashville” + my first name -has come across my little blog…and ummmm….spent 5 hours reading 151 straight posts. There’s a high school classmate out there who knows a lot more about your family than you probably intended. [this may be where I disable the comment function]

It's all fun and games til sister gets a stalker.

What's that cologne you're wearing?

I'm traveling for work (a bit of a shocker, I agree) and have brought along the travel-sized perfumes that Santa dropped into my stocking at Xmas. Seriously…last week, I am visiting the office in Memphis - where I have never been before - and am eager to make a good impression. I think a little squirt of the stocking-stuffed 2 oz bottle of CK Obsession is in order.

Except....the ionizer on this itty-bitty little bottle should require the nuclear launch codes to operate. As in...“please-enter-the-paint-booth-for-your-final-layer-of-clear-coat” turbo-charged ionizer. Honest-to-god…no warning, no training wheels, no nothing - just the complete emptying of what must have been the whole 2 ounces of perfume...right onto my buttoned down neckline. Not ready for that. At this point – I’m already late to the office – so I can’t do anything about it. Let’s just hope the Memphis office appreciates “an enthralling blend of florals and spice.”

• On the panicked drive to the office, I tried to wipe off some of the overapplied perfume with whatever I could find. Bad news…one stray Subway Sandwich napkin was all the car had to offer. I didn't so much wipe the perfume OFF, as I wiped the smell of condiments ON. [CK has an Obsession with spicy mustard.]
• I can't even take MYSELF seriously wearing this much perfume. I feel like I should introduce my scent when I get to the office. Hello - I'm your Vice President of Perfume, and I'm glad to meet you.
• Whenever you can taste your own perfume...for hours... you dread the meeting in the unusually small conference room.
• I must have asked my host three times if he had a cold before I realized his eyes were watering because.of.my.perfume.
• Given that this is the same shirt I wore home for Christmas, the smell of CK Obsession is doing battle with the aroma of Winston Reds.
• I may be in Philly this week – but my perfume is still in Memphis =) Those poor bastards are STILL dealing with the [nuclear] fallout of my visit.

Molly caught the mailman

Molly the wonderdog's favorite past time is chasing birds and squirrels and anything else that catches her eye [neighbors]. Usually...I don't worry too much because that dog is so slow she couldn't catch a cold. I just have to make sure I keep her in the yard because - as you may recall - I lost the battle of the invisible fence rather spectacularly. So I just have to make sure she doesn't go running after any little old ladies with schnauzers. Or ummmm, mailmen. Who may be pinned on the front porch by the ferocious fluffy white dog. Like LAST week.

That's right - poor Rita let Molly out the back door and that was that. Molly's supersonic hearing must have alerted her to the mailman on the front porch (yes - the mailmen actually WALK their routes in SD. Seriously - it's 70 degrees, why wouldn't you?) because she zealously went running after him. By the time Rita caught up with her she had the poor guy pinned against the front gate looking both scared and furious (why yes he IS african american - how did you know?). And that is when our friendly local public servant maced my puppy dog....not even 3 feet in front of Rita. Ummmmm, a) who knew mailmen REALLY carried mace around anymore [oh - it's only pepper spray?!?!? Well, screw you anyway] and b) the UPS guy carries TREATS, for god's sakes - ever tried it??

And where was I during all of this fun? On one of those famous, un-interruptible conference calls. Now...Molly and her barking already join about 75% of the conference calls I conduct from the house, but rarely do my co-workers have to conduct a conference call to the sounds of a dog-barking/rita-yelling/postman-cussing/dog-YELPING prison riot like last Wednesday. I think I actually closed the call with a "WTF" before hanging up rather abruptly.

Molly - unfazed. She ran after the schnauzer an hour later. Rita and I did try to buy off the postman with a big sloppy apology note and a $20 starbucks card [I have a surplus], but we weren't sure what the going rate was for ill-behaved puppy dogs. It must not have worked because we haven't gotten a single cooking magazine delivered in a week.

Less Filling

In one of his less fascist moments...George Will once wrote a BRILLIANT column on how beer has been a darwinian aid to human survival. Unlike most of my plagiarism - I am officially giving attribution to George Will for the entire post below - EXCEPT for the [bracketed, ummmm...commentary] that I have added throughout. [which I think means I am sharing a by-line with George Will]

"The search for unpolluted drinking water is as old as civilization itself. As soon as there were mass human settlements, waterborne diseases like dysentery became a crucial population bottleneck. [Yeah...I can see where a good case of dysentery could slow down procreation just a bit.] For much of human history, the solution to this chronic public-health issue was not purifying the water supply. The solution was to drink alcohol. [the solution to this and many other issues...]

Often the most pure fluid available was alcohol [Miller Lite?] -- in beer [see!] and, later, wine [wine being the late-bloomer of the alcohol family] -- which has antibacterial [and anti-intellectual] properties. Sure, alcohol has its hazards [especially when the Kentucky State Police are around], but as Johnson breezily observes, "Dying of cirrhosis of the liver in your forties was better than dying of dysentery in your twenties." [amen brother, amen] Besides, alcohol, although it is a poison [ergh?], and an addictive one, became, especially in beer, a driver of a species-strengthening selection process. [who knew that Irish was a "species"?? ~My species is more selected than yours. nah, nah na nah~]

Johnson notes that historians interested in genetics believe that the roughly simultaneous emergence of urban living and the manufacturing of alcohol set the stage for a survival-of-the-fittest sorting-out among the people [apparently attending the same bars i did] who abandoned the hunter-gatherer lifestyle [unless we're still talking about the bars] and, literally and figuratively speaking, went to town.

To avoid dangerous water, people had to drink large quantities of, say, beer [yes...let's just say that, shall we? Large quantities of beer.]. But to digest that beer, individuals needed a genetic advantage that not everyone had [that's right - not a crutch, an advantage] -- what Johnson describes as the body's ability to respond to the intake of alcohol by increasing the production of particular enzymes called alcohol dehydrogenases [aka "what hangover?"]. This ability is controlled by certain genes on chromosome [MGD sixty-] four in human DNA, genes not evenly distributed to everyone. Those who lacked this trait could not, as the saying goes, [ be named McConville] "hold their liquor." So, many died early and childless, either of alcohol's toxicity or from waterborne diseases. [ummm...We are the champions???]

The gene pools of human settlements became progressively dominated by the survivors [bring me a beer, bitch] -- by those genetically disposed [!] to, well, drink beer. "Most of the world's population today," Johnson writes, "is made up of descendants of those early beer drinkers, and we have largely inherited their genetic tolerance for alcohol." [SLAINTE!]

Regifting

Okay, okay - my "Blogging for Dummies" (a bit redundant, don't you think?) book indicates that the quantity of blog posts is MUCH more important than quality of blog posts (a defining motto here at SaveMeTheCall). So even though I am still crushed after the Titans' loss Saturday, I thought I would provide our special year-end recap of the very best SaveMeTheCall blog posts as determined by number of mouse clicks (okay - they were all MY mouse clicks, because I re-read these things ALL the time, but you get the idea). I kind of look at it like regifting previous posts - like i did at Christmas with my present from....OH...you get the idea.

So here they are...top ten posts form 2008...

Earth Day (i'm sorry - i love this one)
Easy Listening Music
Dick Cheney hat
Things I have realized now that I have a blog
Brother's visit
Shopping for Rio
Another day at the office (aka - the plate glass wall)
Top 10 things about my kitchen
Belly ring removal
About that suntan
Brooklyn Heights (aka - Riyadh Rockettes)

Man - there's only 11 good posts out of 100+?? ...discouraging. (Hey Eddie P...i mean Eddie Q... i know i shorted you one on a previous top 10 list - now we're even)




This is actually my shameless attempt to see if you actually click on old posts. I'll let you know if it works.

The MOST Wonderful Time of the Year

Awesome blog nonwithstanding, I knew I had a higher purpose in life - and NOW i have figured it out - to bring football to people who think they already have a life. (does this count as missionary work?). Turns out Californians have better things to do on sunny Sunday afternoons than to watch football games (something about beaches....enjoying what's left of the environment...stuff like that). Aren't there any dark, smokey bars in this town? So WHAT if the games are on at 10 in the morning - you people are okay with Bloody Mary's every OTHER day of the week. Get in the game.

Now that the Titans are in the playoffs (however temporary that may be), I am getting REALLY obnoxious [What? - you thought I was ALREADY obnoxious?? Are we still talking about football?]. Some examples:

• Someone gets their car tagged with one little old Titans' car magnet and next thing you know they're moaning about their clear coat. Listen - you have a Nader sticker - I don't want to hear about your precious clear coat.
• If you think a car magnet is bad, you should see LoMo's car back in Nashville - Titans window flags flapping in the breeze, pom-pom's peeking out of the back hatch and a car magnet on every panel. Come Sunday, LoMo looks like she's joining the presidential motorcade (except she would have to tone it DOWN to get into a presidential motorcade).
• Quit calling my team the flaming thumb tacks (really - look at the logo)
• Rita keeps telling me NOT to hang that Titans' flag off the front porch because "someone is going to egg the house". But by "egg the house" I think she REALLY means "think I'm a redneck". (HA - wait til gameday when she sees the twelve-foot inflatable lineman I borrowed from Judy. And YOU thought you had to own a gas station to get one of those things. All of Kensington will be talking =)
• I have noticed that certain football-watching rules are different here. Apparently, the "it-doesn't-count-as-cussing-in-front-of-the-kids-if-it's-during-a-football-game" rule does NOT apply to California (and they don't teach their kids the good cuss words as early either)
• Regarding the weekend invitation to our house - you don't come over to watch ME watch the game, you come over to watch the game - what am I, a zoo animal??

GO TITANS!!

New Year's Resolutions

It's time for New Year's resolutions again. (Yeah, yeah, yeah - blog more - I get it. Blog more, work less...try not to get so much sleep either, wouldja??)

But to turn things around, here's MY take on New Year's resolutions for the SaveMeTheCall readership. And just in case you missed one of my previous posts - you must remember that I have a tracer on the site that tells me what computers are accessing through what IP addresses =) smiley face! =)

• For chrissake's will someone please get Mikee Wi-Fi? All those hits from the St. Louise Panera Bread are bringing my blog down-market.
• Eddie P. - i'm rationing your comments. People are starting to think i made you up just to make comments at my own family.....
• I'm as proud of Nicola's promotion as the next guy, but ummm....you're not answering the help desk anymore (email's been flaky - my ass) AND you don't have time to read the blog? Seriously.
• Is NO ONE at Nationwide Insurance working during the first 30 minutes of the day?
• MOM is the only one who has figured out how to mask her IP address??!?
• Walk into your own plate glass window
• Everyone starts making their smiley faces with equal signs =) (what's not to love??)
• Ummmm, no more checking the blog before 7:30 local time - deal? I mean cut me and my PACIFIC time zone a little slack - wouldja?
• We're really going to do this another year???

The Bad News Bears do Christmas

Honestly...if the Bad News Bears had done a holiday movie - it would look a lot like a certain week of my life. First of all, one should not even ATTEMPT 4 cities, 3 holidays and two families in 7 days. That is WAY too many times to taunt the travel gods. And so it was, as many of you know, that Portland, OR (where Rita's family is), got snowed in at Christmas. So despite MULTIPLE trips to the airport (only to be told that flights were canceled) and multiple plane tickets, we were NOT able to get home to Portland for the holidays. =( Then to top it all off, I didn't plan the present-thing very well - expecting to give Rita her Christmas presents when we returned to San Diego (as we agreed) after Christmas (turns out that celebrating AFTER a holiday makes the actual holiday a little ummmm...disappointing). So let's just say that Christmas week was not...exactly as we had planned:

• Can I just say - it's not like we were going to MIAMI to see Rita's family...has the city of Portland never heard of a snowplow???
• If you are interviewed on TWO successive evening newcasts showing families stranded by bad weather on the holidays - you have officially hit the hard-luck sweepstakes. (That's not Tivo - it's Maeve & Rita.)
• One good way to end up on a watch list at the airport? (well ASIDE from being named Mohammed) - go through security every day for four days. Couple that with multiple appearances on the evening news (see: stranded holiday travelers) and you are guaranteed a strip search.
• I don't care HOW much time you think you have til boarding....it is best that you are NOT on an un-interruptible work call when your partner finds out she is NOT going to see her family for the holidays. The correct response to "all flights to Portland are canceled" is NOT "I will be off this call in 20 minutes, I swear".
• I did get bonus points for the question "how long would it take to DRIVE to Portland"? (it's all the same time zone - who knew it was a 26 hour drive).
• No matter WHAT the agreement is on when the present exchange is...ummmm, bring a present for Christmas day, ok? In the relationship hierarchy - not having a present available on Christmas Day trumps breaking Christmas gift rules by a score of 7 to 1.
• As of noon on Christmas, the only thing Rita had gotten for Christmas was my cold.
• The one-year subscription to the savemethecall blog is probably NOT an appropriate present for Christmas day.

Savory Shrimp & Grits

Rita and I like to host little "dinner parties" where we invite people over to cook for us. It's a great trick - you should try it. Each couple gets assigned a different course to make/bring and you end up with this excellent meal where you only made one course (unfortunately - "ice" is not a course, so my participation is limited). Well....a couple of weeks ago - we hosted just such a get together and one normally reliable couple brought an appetizer course entitled "Savory Shrimp & Grits". Well...apparently...in Texas, savory means HOT, like smoke-coming-out-of-your-ears hot. I don't think it was intentional - but there WAS an awkward moment where I thought one of our guests was trying to kill us with tabasco.

Which (of course) led me to a few observations from the experience:

• When the chef has to serve the dish cloaked in a hazmat suit - bad sign.
• If I EVER actually MAKE a course for a dinner party...I will now have my eyes peeled for an uncomfortable silence following that first bite...which apparently means: "Holy crap - I can't feel my face any more."
• At what point have you eaten enough of a course to be polite? I can barely handle barbecue potato chips - I wasn't about to finish the nuclear shrimp.
• The dessert course assignee smugly announced "I ate the whole thing". Called her the next morning - not mobile.
• The person to my right very casually leaned over to me and whispered..."Savory Shrimp and Grits...more like Save-Yourself Shrimp and Grits". (which of course was followed by me saying "omigod - that is HILARIOUS. Listen to this, you guys... ")
• The pairing for the course turned out not to be zinfandel, but milk.
• Apparently, one partner made the grits while the other half of the tandem contributed the ummmm...savory parts. The sous chef spent the entire course declaring the innocence of her grits. I half expected the grits to turn state's evidence on the shrimp and sauce at any time.
• We looked at the hot sauce bottle later and a) it's called Inferno Hot Sauce b) they won't sell it without a parent or guardian present and c) what did you THINK the skull and crossbones meant??
• I looked at the pictures from the dinner....three courses later and Joe's face is still blotchy, there's a bead of sweat above my lip and the sous chef is in a corner still pushing her grits.

PoCo for Life

Christmas in southern Indiana - (Kentuckiana for those in the know) would be culturally educational for many. This year, we learned an endearing new term at the McConville family xmas - "PoCo for Life". PoCo being Posey County, Indiana - where no one thought twice of naming a county "Posey" and where parents dream of GEDs for ALL their kids.

The term seems to be a quaint carryover of my (now college-degreed, I swear) 23 yr old niece's high school years. And just to give you some context, I think Levi Johnston, the father of Bristol Palin's baby, (and especially his mother) are honorary "PoCo for Life".

And the term seems inextricably linked to synthetic urine - of the drug-test-fooling variety. Apparently, the MOST eligible bachelors in PoCo are the ones with a synthetic urine subscription...presumably allowing them to smoke dope with abandon? I guess the boffo combo of a quarter bag AND a job (that drug tests, no less) makes you hot property in PoCo. (What!??! - you guys didn't talk about the same thing on YOUR Christmas morning???)

Which is how we came up with the following ditty about my brother - sung to the theme from the Beverly Hillbillies:

Come and listen to a story 'bout a man in PoCo
Poor engineer should've moved a while ago
Then one day he was talking with his daughter
and UP came the case of the big ol' fake water
(urine that is, fake pee, synthetic piss)

Please tell my niece's boyfriend is not REALLY Seth Rogan.

Soda POP

Holy cow - world's best Christmas present ever. Rita got me a seltzer water maker. I thought the only type of seltzer makers anymore were those little squirtee ones from old Tom & Jerry cartoons, but Rita found the new Penguin Club Soda model. It is awesome. You put one of the special carafes full of water into the little vacuum chamber, slide the top down to seal the chamber and then pump it full of co2. There is a button to "release" the carafe from its little vacuum chamber when you're finished and...voila! Your very own Pellegrino.

Everytime I push that button - it sounds like the roller coaster coming to a stop at Six Flags - with basically the same level of anticipation. If I get particularly exuberant pumping the carbon dioxide...billowy white smoke comes tumbling out of the vacuum chamber like some special effect from an 80s rock video.

The kit even came with different flavor syrups so I can make my own lemon-line, root beer and.....diet soda. Follow me on this...with a little more recipe-tweaking, I could be making my own Diet Cokes by President's Day. (And you thought the economy was bad NOW - if I stop buying Diet Cokes.... You may as well add Coca-Cola to the bailout list right now.)

Between the espresso maker and the club soda machine (not to mention the UPS-looking wine fairy), Rita's house is like the adult equivalent of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Seriously, I don't see a reason to ever leave the house again. I am going to be the most hydrated woman in Southern California.

Although the responses from others to my Christmas present have been a little...ummm....interesting:

"What's the over/under on when you pop an eye out with that thing?" [Thanks Mom]

"Can you do whip-ette shots with it?" [if you have to ask what a whip-ette shot is, you obviously invested your college years more wisely than others]

"Have you tried it on milk? If I got a toy like that - I would try it on everything." [a) thanks for sharing b) no milk...but I AM working on my very own Champagne - a little number I like to call Estate Zinfa-cola....mmmmm (don't tell Rita).]