tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76823522588011002222024-03-13T02:35:27.838-07:00FlynnsightFlynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-44993098737497157942011-01-12T14:25:00.000-08:002011-01-12T15:10:07.907-08:00You Were and Are Our Sunshine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TS4r7ZKqmJI/AAAAAAAAALo/LjKHT8yh_Ws/s1600/IMG_2971_phixr.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 261px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TS4r7ZKqmJI/AAAAAAAAALo/LjKHT8yh_Ws/s320/IMG_2971_phixr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561430889217038482" border="0" /></a><br />What does it take to pull a "blogger" out of a seven-month retirement?<br /><br /><br />A <a href="http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/floridatoday/obituary.aspx?n=ann-grenville&pid=147630031&sms_ss=facebook&at_xt=4d27be58bd6e1daa%2C1">fiery blonde muse </a>from Titusville, Fla.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><br />[Friends, especially those of the Pi Alpha variety: I'm posting this for those, including yours truly, who were unable to attend the Jan. 8 services.</span></span>]<br /><br />Writing a so-called eulogy for Miss Ann is either the hardest job in the world, or the easiest.<br /><br />It's been more than a year since she first mentioned the E word and I still can't reason why, out of the scores of people who adored every blonde ounce of her Titusville-bred self, she deemed me worthy of this task. What I DO know, though, is that I can't imagine a greater honor.<br /><br />It was the Sunday after a reunion disguised as a football tailgate--a tailgate orchestrated largely by Miss Ann--that she first mentioned the E word. In a tone as familiar as one fitting for "I'll take a glass of Yellow Tail chardonnay, please," Miss Ann summoned me into her suite, and with just a few words, anointed me the future author of her eulogy. She'd even told Stacy as such.<br /><br />The statement was paralyzing. I was as much honored as I was horrified. Tebow had just secured us a win over LSU. Our two-day visit had been punctuated by game day endorphins, reminiscing about trouble we'd gotten into in the DZ house and her excitement over the bundle of joy growing in Stacy's tummy. At that time, 16 months ago, the thought of saying goodbye to Miss Ann for more than a football season was strictly out the question.<br /><br />As she persisted about the E word, I agreed, under the pretense we'd table the conversation for 20 years, after she’d said a toast at my and Nicole’s weddings, after Brian had executed an engagement as colorful as Shaun's, after Stacy had a house full of bubbly little tinkers. God, it seems, had other plans. Maybe heaven was lacking in laughter. Maybe the angels needed someone to make them chicken noodle soup and seven layer bars. Most likely, though, I think He saw all the fun she was orchestrating on earth and wanted in on the action.<br /><br />Because I'm pretty sure there aren't laws against plagiarizing oneself, here's a snippet from a letter written four years ago.<br /><br />"Though us Delta Zeta sisters share varied faiths, we spiritually agree on one certainty: we know why God rested on the seventh day. He did so to create the woman whose homemade ice cream cakes and pepper roasts make Rachael Ray dishes taste like Chef Boyardee, the friend whose compassionate dialogue rivals the writers for Grey's Anatomy, the role model who stands taller than Macy Gray on stilts, the set of shoulders more supportive than Tim Tebow’s game day armor… Miss Ann Grenville.<br /><br />Should the price of paper rise in the future, it'll be easy to pinpoint the culprit. It will take several forests of refined greenery to create the wedding invitations, birth announcements, thinking of you, change of address and Christmas cards directed Miss Ann's way in the future. To not include Miss Ann in the joys of life would be like not inviting the mother of the bride to her daughter's wedding. Graduation may close our days and nights with Miss Ann, but a little bit of her character is embedded in each of us as we follow in her footsteps."<br /><br />These words were written in 2006, a time when I visualized addressing announcements to a Miss Ann at 903 S.W. 13th Street in Gainesville, Florida. Now that she'll know about engagements and babies long before a paper product could be stamped, she's taken "going green" to extremes. Leave it to Miss Ann to be hip and trendy from heaven.<br /><br />I heard that Miss Ann was going to let us know it was her time by saying, <span style="font-style: italic;">"Well folks, the party's over."</span><br /><br />Miss Ann, you know I'd never correct you, but I'd be remiss in not calling you out on this one. The pre-party may have run its course, but the band has just arrived.<br /><br />While the next few weeks and months will leave us longing for one more hug, one more wild hair to leave her a voicemail to the tune of "You Are My Sunshine," one more notification that "Ann Grenville likes this," let us find comfort in the thought that we no longer have to share our Miss Ann.<br /><br />From here on out, on any given fall Saturday, the DZ tailgate will boast one more attendee, no more panhellenic or fraternal laws to mind. Tables on the Front Lawn will sport an extra guest, one silently encouraging rounds of upside down pineapple cake shots. Sidelines throughout the SEC will staff an extra blonde cheerleader... when said cheerleader is not distracted by unannounced visits to the locker room. And when his mom and dad are distracted with singing "We are the Boys," Parker will have a built-in playdate, one that will continue to rival his youth.<br /><br />There was nothing ordinary about Miss Ann during our precious time together. And there will be nothing ordinary about this Anngel - that's angel with two Ns. As much as this Anngel will be on hand to blanket us in her protective arms, she'll be just as much a silent antagonist encouraging us to follow her tireless pursuit of adventure.<br /><br />So... Miss Ann, our Anngel, you're officially on the clock. I hope you're ready. Because, <span style="font-style: italic;">well folks, this party has just begun.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eLS0Y40WwlA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eLS0Y40WwlA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-631850846194122592010-06-30T08:05:00.000-07:002010-06-30T08:33:01.433-07:00I'll See Your Community Relations Director and Raise You a Chief Everything Officer<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCteelZsiYI/AAAAAAAAAKY/7BZnlnipu9g/s1600/rolodex.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488584450410056066" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCteelZsiYI/AAAAAAAAAKY/7BZnlnipu9g/s320/rolodex.jpg" border="0" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; width: 143px; cursor: pointer; height: 143px; " /></a><br /><div>As a PR practitioner, I can bank on three things in a given work week.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>1. I'll receive at least six dozen e-mails signed "Best," or "Warm regards."</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>2. I'll use more exclamation points and smiley faces in a single 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. than I'll use in two year's worth of personal communication.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>3. I'll collect a 1/4 inch stack of new business cards.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>As I battled the 3 p.m. urge to visit my cubicle neighbor's candy basket one day last week, I sought distractional* refuge in the leaning tower of cards on my desk. Amongst a crop of Community Relations, Editorial, External Affairs and Marketing job titles were a few that shamefully went unnoticed upon reception. The titles jarred a flashback to the summer before junior year of college when I was hired as a "golf cart girl" at a public course in Gainesville, Fla. On my first (and last) day on the greens, I was handed a gold-plated name badge that read "Professional Snack and Beverage Dispensing Technician." I retrieved twist-off bottles from a cooler and occasionally made change for a $20. For that, my title warranted 15 syllables.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>If ever a job were to compete with PSBDT, the rectangular treasures below would pose strong competition. Despite what context clues suggest, I swear on Huck that each of these cards was hand delivered in a corporate setting.<br /></div><div><p align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCtdhhqMTNI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/x2D8Fwhref0/s1600/CardNumber2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488583401433484498" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCtdhhqMTNI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/x2D8Fwhref0/s320/CardNumber2.jpg" border="0" style="width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 166px; " /></a><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCtdbZ6Pg1I/AAAAAAAAAJw/8qgs5s-2H10/s1600/CardNumber1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488583296274105170" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCtdbZ6Pg1I/AAAAAAAAAJw/8qgs5s-2H10/s320/CardNumber1.jpg" border="0" style="width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 166px; " /></a></p><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488583884237016802" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCtd9oPhjuI/AAAAAAAAAKI/AoWfT93m9Ng/s320/CardNumber4.jpg" border="0" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 171px; text-align: center; " /></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCtjFiCwQgI/AAAAAAAAAKo/EsDlmAqBzgg/s1600/card5.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 209px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TCtjFiCwQgI/AAAAAAAAAKo/EsDlmAqBzgg/s320/card5.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488589517569933826" /></a>*You're right. Distractional is not a word, but I sure do like the way it fits in that sentence.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div></div></div>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-91943583402568689992010-05-31T19:31:00.000-07:002010-06-15T05:07:22.323-07:00Out off Ofice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TAR2abJdX6I/AAAAAAAAAIo/lX29VsyQao4/s1600/out-of-office.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 241px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TAR2abJdX6I/AAAAAAAAAIo/lX29VsyQao4/s320/out-of-office.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477633243125473186" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Confession: I judge books by their covers.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I also judge people by their out of office e-mail messages.</span></span></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">In honor of the slew of "OOO" messages electronically transmitted since summer commenced, here are three gems that currently live in a folder titled "Really?" on my desktop.<br /></span></div></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />(1) I'll take "Things that are Boring and Blunt" for $500, Alex.<br /></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TARzP9W8CcI/AAAAAAAAAIg/BUGQu3yb_NA/s1600/OOOBorn.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 117px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TARzP9W8CcI/AAAAAAAAAIg/BUGQu3yb_NA/s400/OOOBorn.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477629764795369922" border="0" /></a></span><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">(2) Sloppy Joe. Note the dates.</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TARzJnp0r2I/AAAAAAAAAIY/OfEIGKeiiqo/s1600/OldOOO.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 123px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TARzJnp0r2I/AAAAAAAAAIY/OfEIGKeiiqo/s400/OldOOO.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477629655889784674" border="0" /></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span">(3) Penned by my father f</span><span class="Apple-style-span">or </span><span class="Apple-style-span">his </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span">professional</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"> e-mail account</span><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TARyvHW5g6I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/_HrPWF3xr-Y/s1600/DadOOO.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 170px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/TARyvHW5g6I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/_HrPWF3xr-Y/s400/DadOOO.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477629200543876002" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:17;" ><div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-family:Georgia,serif;font-size:17;" ><div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></div></div></span></span></span></div></span></div></div></div></div>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-55512057894811506402010-05-12T19:19:00.000-07:002010-05-16T08:32:01.402-07:00Ode (or is it Owed?) to Carbohydrates<span style="font-family:georgia;">Raised under the musical tutelage of a Warren Zevon-loving father and a Doo-wop junkie of a mother, I’ve marched to the beat of a different drummer since a cacophonic mix of “Werewolves of London” and “Hit the Road Jack” pervaded my womb.<br /><br />That said, my iPod’s content is typically reserved for me, Huck and the unfortunate passengers who buckle into the V4 amphitheater that is my mom-rific sedan.<br /><br />On the eve of this spring's ING Georgia Half Marathon, I pummeled a Publix sub, locked into a date with iTunes and sought the Interwebs' help in crafting a playlist that would distract me from forecasted rain. Thanks to two welcome date crashers, Google and the blogosphere, I stumbled upon a mix of ready-made half marathon playlists. An hour later, and much to my contemporaries' delight, a smattering of songs cut after my conception landed on my "Ode to Carbohydrates" playlist.<br /><br />Because it’s been more than a week since I last posted, and because cutting and pasting a screenshot requires minimal effort, the resulting anthology is below. Should my sub-par keyword tagging skills lead a fellow runner to this page on race day eve, I hope he* or she will depart with lyrical fodder worthy of the 13.1 mile trek to wine beyond the finish line.</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470585249867171250" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S-tsTOPTBbI/AAAAAAAAAIA/86VYGJ9yeuM/s400/jamz.JPG" border="0" /></p></span><p></p>*See song choice #7 and note that my e-mail address is <a href="mailto:megflynn85@gmail.com">megflynn85@gmail.com</a>.Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-57761978304484840312010-04-30T04:41:00.000-07:002010-05-16T08:32:57.015-07:00Adventures in Dog Raising<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S9rCsJN2CEI/AAAAAAAAAHY/b9d4zBMOuLw/s1600/bfast.JPG"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 246px; float: left; height: 158px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465895161411536962" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S9rCsJN2CEI/AAAAAAAAAHY/b9d4zBMOuLw/s320/bfast.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" >Having braved two elementary school years with a gray front tooth (a byproduct of older sibling babysitting and a brick fireplace), I vowed that my future children would never be “that” kid in class. Good news for them is that I have a practice child in the form of one Huck Flynn. Bad news for Huck Flynn is that I have a practice child in the form of one Huck Flynn.<br /><br /></span><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" >Because I’m selfish and bypassed several Humane Societies to fetch my AKC-certified pup from a breeder, I had two months to prepare for Huck’s arrival. I used that time wisely—scouring the Interwebs to coordinate matching collar/leash sets and spamming friends and family to solicit name suggestions. Slightly more responsibly, I also scouted local dog parks. Goldendoodles and Spaniels? Sweet, I’ll be back in a few weeks. Chihuahuas and Pitbulls? Hey, maybs I’ll see you at PetSmart.</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" >I bookmarked online training guides and nursed dreams of a dog who would catch footballs, deliver the <span style="font-style: italic;">AJC </span>in the morning and greet me with a Yuengling after work.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" >One magical Sunday, I brought my protégé canine home. One magical Sunday, a then six-pound Huck became <span style="font-style: italic;">my </span>master, and visions of Superdog died a quick death.</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" class="Apple-style-span" ><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px; display: block; height: 233px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465926223765897810" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S9re8NgPAlI/AAAAAAAAAHo/rWjinv7buEc/s320/ry%253D400.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">As week night trips to the dog park confirm, my plan to raise the star quarterback equivalent of a canine son has failed miserably.</span><br /></span><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></div><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" >This dog park, little more than a half dirt/half grass field sandwiched among houses, is<span style="font-style: italic;"> 101 Dalmations</span> meets <span style="font-style: italic;">The Breakfast Club</span>. Sadie, a Lab mix, is the park's star cheerleader. She finds a stick and instantly the stick is elevated to squirrel status. Quinn, a fellow Vizsla, is the class president. He says little, is perfectly coiffed and wears the canine equivalent of an ascot tie: a seasonal bandana. Jack, a Golden Retriever, is the class clown, buddy-buddy with both dogs and owners. Kira, a Rhodesian Ridgeback and persistent observer, is the newspaper editor—the canine Tina Fey.</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">And then there’s Huck. Jury's still out as to whether he’s best personified as a mathlete, or a trenchcoat-wearing fan of dragon mysteries. When not eating dirt or swallowing sticks, he's sniffing tree bases. On occasion, a heated game of tug-of-war will break out, and he'll bark at the participants. Great, a tattletale of a trenchcoat-wearing mathlete.</span> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S9rJ7wTG6gI/AAAAAAAAAHg/lBZYmIfM6xE/s1600/n2012947_49124449_4552.jpg"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px; display: block; height: 255px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465903126182029826" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S9rJ7wTG6gI/AAAAAAAAAHg/lBZYmIfM6xE/s320/n2012947_49124449_4552.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" >Either he needs a dad, or I need to lay off clothing him in acid-washed denim vests for Merry Hucking Christmas cards.<br /></span></p>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-88402210738815371822010-04-21T16:58:00.000-07:002010-04-21T19:08:56.479-07:00Why Blogs Are Not Like Russian Orphans<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-Upualg1I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/JVN4hrO6m5Y/s1600/wheres-waldo.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 192px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462748317578789714" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-Upualg1I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/JVN4hrO6m5Y/s200/wheres-waldo.jpg" /></a>“Blogs are not like Russian orphans. You can’t just send them back when it gets tough. Get typing.”<br /><br />Shout out to an Alabama-hailing friend for sending the above text. Yep, it’s been six weeks since the last post. The bad news is that I let Flynnsight take a backseat to extracurricular life that comes with spring. The good news—selfishly for me, that is—is that people noticed. From those who chided me via text to the chap who sent an e-mail with a milk carton and a screen shot of Flynnsight, thank you. It’s nice to know that people—other than my loyal sister, Travis Burt and the person in Illinois who landed on Flynnsight by Googling “jort Spanx”—are reading.<br /><br />It’s not that I haven’t thought about posting. I’ve got a purse full of Post-it notes bearing blog topics: why Lent is for quitters, the deflating mental challenge that comes with decoding stretched words to authorize online purchases (featuring one "mullet brigade" combo for Ticketmaster), the off-putting rise of 'Best' and 'Warm Regards' e-signatures, the day that Minnesota Phatts and Laserhaire Moval became @Flynnsight followers on Twitter.<br /><br />Eh, maybe later. For now, I'm plagiarizing content from fourth graders.<br /><br />The yuletide thank yous pasted below were plucked from a batch of 54 notes penciled with similar content. For good reason, they've hung in my work cube (across from the resume excerpt for Adventuresome Irish Surgeon) for more than a year. Don’t be fooled—these kiddos make me sound like quite the philanthropist. In reality, I helped connect two fourth grade classes with flimsy plastic pens and flavorless ChapStick bearing the Children’s logo.<br /><br />Out of the mouths of babes…<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-RlNwYuyI/AAAAAAAAAHA/iexifVQIWIw/s1600/Letter6.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 329px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462744941557496610" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-RlNwYuyI/AAAAAAAAAHA/iexifVQIWIw/s400/Letter6.JPG" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-RWdoPLRI/AAAAAAAAAG4/v-YPYikWmic/s1600/Letter3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 317px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462744688120245522" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-RWdoPLRI/AAAAAAAAAG4/v-YPYikWmic/s400/Letter3.JPG" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-R1_1gZGI/AAAAAAAAAHI/KBwHCKoZ2Ls/s1600/Letter1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462745229878649954" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S8-R1_1gZGI/AAAAAAAAAHI/KBwHCKoZ2Ls/s400/Letter1.jpg" /></a><br />Key takeaway—never underestimate a pen and lip balm stealer.<br /><br />Sincere love from,<br />Meg<br /><br />P.S. To all my fellow PR practitioners: good luck saving lives.Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-36702370766809220322010-03-16T19:08:00.001-07:002010-05-04T20:27:10.265-07:00The McRaezy Huck O' the Irish<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S6A5woGlQYI/AAAAAAAAAGY/q3wzYmnQ4B0/s1600-h/Sean%27s+House+005.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449419056679829890" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S6A5woGlQYI/AAAAAAAAAGY/q3wzYmnQ4B0/s200/Sean%27s+House+005.jpg" /></span></a> <meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" equiv="Content-Type"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style>
<br /><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-alt:"Times New Roman"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:auto; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);" ><span style="color:#000000;">As I snapped this smug shot of Sean in what is now his front yard yesterday, I couldn’t help but think about <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">my </span>own first piece of <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:city><st1:place>Atlanta</st1:place></st1:city> real estate. Hold up.</span> </span><meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" equiv="Content-Type"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link style="FONT-FAMILY: georgia; COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-alt:"Times New Roman"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:auto; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><span style="color:#000000;">I’m 25, work for a not-for-profit and irresponsibly invest more in designer denim than I do in the Dow Jones. That said, <i>my</i> first piece of real estate was a far cry from the eco-friendly, 3/2 on a corner lot that is Sean’s new abode:</span> 't</span></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><span style="color:#000000;">was the 4x2 cubicle that comprised my workday home at </span><a style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)" href="http://mcrae.com/place.html"><span style="color:#3333ff;">McRae</span></a><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"><span style="color:#3333ff;">,</span> </span>my first job. I loved every square inch of that cube—all 18 of them. It was there on the 32nd floor of the Equitable Building, pulling all nighters at the copier, forcing elevator conservations to last 32 floors and crafting office pools for looming engagements, that my 9-to-5 neighbors became my <st1:city><st1:place>Atlanta</st1:place></st1:city> family.</span> <?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span>
<br />
<br /></span></span><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><o:p></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">The agency life that was McRae fit me like a pair of Kelly bootcut Citizens of Humanity jeans. Sure, the place had its quirks. I got stuck in the elevator. Twice. A walk from the creative lounge to account service saw a 15-degree dip in temperature. And I never did figure out what one particular colleague, armed with a briefcase full of cosmetics and hand towels, did in the bathroom from <st1:time hour="12" minute="30">12:30 p.m.</st1:time> to <st1:time hour="13" minute="0">1 p.m.</st1:time> every day. But, it also had its charm.</span></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">
<br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span></span></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S6A9lYMXCOI/AAAAAAAAAGo/OGE9DPKdWlQ/s1600-h/IMG_2645.JPG"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 219px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 165px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449423261477046498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S6A9lYMXCOI/AAAAAAAAAGo/OGE9DPKdWlQ/s320/IMG_2645.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;">
<br /></span></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#000000;">Aesthetically, the office had a killer view of <st1:city><st1:place>Atlanta</st1:place></st1:city>, and the look and feel of a carousel. It was also home to the <st1:time hour="15" minute="0">3 p.m.</st1:time> disrumption (nope, no typo there), when the jam of the day—be it Flo-Rida, Michael Jackson or Stevie Wonder—prompted the account service team to bust out with a three-minute afternoon intermission. And, more often than not, there was vino in the fridge. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><o:p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"></span></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">
<br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span></span></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">In early March, I sought the guidance of one of my favorite creative mentors for this year's St. Patrick’s Day card. Without skipping a beat, he was onboard, and the below masterpiece hit the Flynnbox the next day. That's McRaezy. More accurately, that's you, Bill.
<br /></span></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">
<br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span></span></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)" class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S6A_-OLhNKI/AAAAAAAAAGw/AJGJ-ChP6IE/s1600-h/Lucky+Huck.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 277px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449425887309149346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S6A_-OLhNKI/AAAAAAAAAGw/AJGJ-ChP6IE/s400/Lucky+Huck.jpg" /></span></a></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)" class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"><span style="font-family:georgia;">
<br /><span style="color:#000000;"></span></span></p><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal" >
<br /><o:p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></o:p></p><p style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)" class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"><o:p><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"></span></o:p></p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Without further ado, in <span style="color:#000000;">honor of </span></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0);" >St. Patty's</span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">—</span></span></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;"> </span><blockquote><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000000;">the very day that answers The Killers' query "Are We Human, or Are We Dancer?"</span></blockquote></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">—</span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">let the day of the 24-hour, jig-ified disrumption begin with <a href="http://bit.ly/9qDXgF">this</a><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">, </span>my parting e-gift from McRae.</span></span>
<br /></span></span>
<br />Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-71757162698677984192010-03-03T06:51:00.001-08:002010-03-04T18:45:26.988-08:00The Brothers Flynn and the Flynn Family Nemesis<div>Meet Sean Flynn. Sean invests in low-risk portfolios, dreams of a world where babies' first words are "reduce, reuse, recycle," and spends weekends lifting weights and eating lean proteins. Meet <a href="http://www.tbs.com/stories/story/0,,42059,00.html">Brian Flynn</a>. Brian invests in lush tapestries, dreams of furniture that requires rainforest deforestation and harm to small animals, and spends weekends lifting base coats and eating Mexican. And he's hyperlink-able.<br /><br />Things in common: DNA, need for oxygen, sporadic middle name usage, affinity for mocking the other brother's profession.<br /><br />Sean discounts Brian's success in the world of interior design, convincing people who hear that he has a famous brother that Brian is a "decorator" by trade and employed as Vern Yip's assistant. Brian mocks EPA-employed Sean's quest to save the environment by blaming his routinely 15-minutes-late self on having been burning rubber tires or pouring crude oil into creeks.<br /><br />Here's a snippet from the latest Facebook war between Captain Planet and That Guy From TV:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S47l8PqHcZI/AAAAAAAAAFw/sRK5FoKxYWk/s1600-h/BrianAndSean.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S47l8PqHcZI/AAAAAAAAAFw/sRK5FoKxYWk/s400/BrianAndSean.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444541822695600530" border="0" /></a>(Font becomes somewhat legible when you click on the image.)<br /></div><br />As the above spat took e-shape and a mini blizzard pounded New York, Shannon exchanged the below with the family nemesis that is Braden's kindergarten teacher:<br /><br />Hi [Braden's Passive Aggressive Teacher],<br /><br />Just so you know, we still do not have power and are staying with my in-laws across the river. I think Braden is a little out of sorts. He told me that his stomach hurt today and that he was in the nurse's office. He also came home with a pair of pants that don't belong to him. He didn't really give me any details. Do you know what happened with him today?<br /><br />Thanks,<br />Shannon<br /><br />Hi Mrs. Stroppel,<br /><br />Braden had a meltdown, tears and hysterical crying, saying his tummy hurt. When he got to the nurse, she found that his pants were soaked, and she gave him dry ones to wear. He cried that he'd spilled water on them at home. He also said he was upset because you were angry and yelling just before he left for school.<br />I've put the pants in a bag, and they should come home today.<br /><br />Regards,<br />[Braden's Passive Aggressive Teacher]<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S47mmLbtTwI/AAAAAAAAAF4/belx2RRVlxg/s1600-h/IMG_0111.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S47mmLbtTwI/AAAAAAAAAF4/belx2RRVlxg/s400/IMG_0111.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444542543115931394" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-18176980054455400002010-02-21T16:15:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:51:21.285-08:00Flynnbox (4): Meet Braden<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S4HOKNhnwuI/AAAAAAAAAE4/nNeK3jOyozM/s1600-h/Gallo+Wedding+and+St+Pats+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 251px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S4HOKNhnwuI/AAAAAAAAAE4/nNeK3jOyozM/s400/Gallo+Wedding+and+St+Pats+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440856499664962274" border="0" /></a><br />Whether you've been my best friend since we fought over Gerard in Mrs. LaBranche's fourth grade class or you're the mystery crew with whom I shared a Buckhead-to-Virginia-Highland cab ride on New Year's Eve, you likely know three things about me: high heels are a recipe for Neosporin, I speak faster than most Toyotas accelerate, and I adore the living crap out of my two nephews. The pint-sized comedians are products of my sister, who lives a gazillion light years away in New York. Braden will be six in August, Brennan will be four in October.<br /><br />Flanked by half Flynnified DNA, Braden has an uncensored gift of gab. Consequently, he's the subject of many an e-mail titled Deep Thoughts by Braden Stroppel. By way of my sis, this one hit the Flynnbox last week:<br /><br />"So being the Catholic practicing at a Methodist church (as I like to call myself) that I am, I was teaching Sunday school the other day. I read the children a story about Jesus being in a house where people were trying to see if he could heal the sick. Three male friends carried their crippled friend to this house, but it was so crowded they could not get him in. The friends persevered and climbed on the roof and cut a hole and lowered their dear friend into the house where Jesus of course performed a miracle. Braden and Brennan were in my class...<br /><br />Nanny [paternal grandmother] comes over and says to Braden, "Did you go to Jesus's house today?" They both say, "No," then think a little harder and agree that yes, indeed, they did actually to go "Jesus's house." Nanny asks Braden if he sang any songs in Sunday school and he says, "No." I then tell Braden to tell Nanny what the story was about in Sunday school. Braden said, "Oh, Jesus was in a house and some guy was trying to get in so Jesus broke his legs."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S4HPaO5j0ZI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Q9vH3tXvw_g/s1600-h/IMG_2701.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S4HPaO5j0ZI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Q9vH3tXvw_g/s400/IMG_2701.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440857874423337362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Yep, that's my godson.<br /></div></div>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-19514053943024065842010-02-16T19:28:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:52:12.774-08:00'Twas The Night Before Lent<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3tkvpciDhI/AAAAAAAAAEo/-Pcf9my1RWM/s1600-h/nobeer-lg.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 124px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3tkvpciDhI/AAAAAAAAAEo/-Pcf9my1RWM/s400/nobeer-lg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439051744722161170" border="0" /></a><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CCATHYL%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="Street"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="address"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} p.MsoListBullet, li.MsoListBullet, div.MsoListBullet {mso-style-update:auto; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">‘Twas the night before Lent, and all through my Catholic veins<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Not a sacrifice was stirring, gluttony paraded down <st1:street><st1:address>Flynn Lane</st1:address></st1:street></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><st1:street><st1:address>My vices were hung from the bar with sloppy care
<br /></st1:address></st1:street></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">In hopes that self control soon would be there</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Huck was nestled all snug in his (my) bed</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">While visions of spring festivals danced in my head</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I’d forfeited chocolate, sodas, four-lettered words in years past</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">But what about alcohol—for 40 days—could I last?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh Oysterfest! Oh St. Patty’s! Oh start of wedding season!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh soccer practice! Oh patio happy hour for no reason!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Surely not </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >all </span><span style="font-size:100%;">wine, maybe just no chardonnay<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">But who in the La Crema was I kidding, no way </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >no </span><span style="font-size:100%;">wine for 40 days</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">What about my other tasty friend, the very proof that God loves us: beer</span></p> <p class="MsoListBullet" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The same frothy treat that spawned courage to Saran Wrap a sleeping Leah Logue sans fear </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Surely not </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >all </span><span style="font-size:100%;">beer, maybe just no more Belgian wheats</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Who in the <st1:city><st1:place>Newcastle</st1:place></st1:city> was I kidding, no way would I not cheat</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Now wait just a minute, a good Irish Catholic this mindset not make</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As guilt settled in, brewskis mentally became a holy bet I could take
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">So, today I bid farewell to the liquid vice behind Freshman Fifteens</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Goodbye Sweetwater, goodbye Shiner Bock, goodbye TAP post-work scene</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Goodbye Coors, goodbye Blue Moon, goodbye Passport Club at Taco Mac</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For 40 nights I shall dream about you, but on Easter Sunday I’ll be back</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">With nary a Fat Tire in the fridge, the coozies out of sight</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Lenten cheers to all, Irish you a strong 40-day fight! </span></p>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3tlRg40p-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/JLmxO-Hob-Q/s1600-h/6a00d8341bfadb53ef00e54f55aa6b8833-640wi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 258px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3tlRg40p-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/JLmxO-Hob-Q/s400/6a00d8341bfadb53ef00e54f55aa6b8833-640wi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439052326540453858" border="0" /></a>
<br />Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-33006076039131272172010-02-12T04:21:00.000-08:002010-02-16T20:03:27.439-08:00You Had Me at Resume<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3VKEyDy0bI/AAAAAAAAAEI/G1mpYcHqGhA/s1600-h/spamSingle.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 189px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3VKEyDy0bI/AAAAAAAAAEI/G1mpYcHqGhA/s400/spamSingle.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437333571137360306" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Georgia; panose-1:2 4 5 2 5 4 5 2 3 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} span.il {mso-style-name:il;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">As the rare singleton among social spheres of wives, fiancés and soon-to-be-fiancés, I was delighted to receive an e-mail from a gal pal titled "Found Your Dream Husband." The e-mail included an excerpt from a resume this pal came across at work. Tucked at the end of a 15-page, medical-jargon filled resume of an <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">IRISH</span> surgeon was the Holy Grail of perfect-on-paper.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span lang="EN-IE"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span lang="EN-IE">Interests and Hobbies</span></i></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Backpacking and Travel</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <ul><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Attempting a red slope in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Lillehammer</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-IE">, </span><st1:city><st1:place><span class="il"><span lang="EN-IE">Oslo</span></span></st1:place></st1:city><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Finding a clownfish scuba diving on the </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Great Barrier Reef</span></st1:place><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Swimming in a thermal spa in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Budapest</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-IE"> in winter</span><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="ES-TRAD">Standing in Plaza De Mayo in Buenos Aires, Argentina</span><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Indian-Pacific railway journey across </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Australia</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Camping in the outback in </span><st1:place><st1:city><span lang="EN-IE">Toodjay</span></st1:city><span lang="EN-IE">, </span><st1:state><span lang="EN-IE">Western Australia</span></st1:state></st1:place><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Hiking in the </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Valley of the Kings</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-IE"> in </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Egypt</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">A </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Singapore</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-IE"> Sling in Raffles Bar in </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Singapore</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Climbing the Dome of the Duomo in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-IE">Florence</span></st1:place></st1:city><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">The Beer Festival in </span><st1:place><st1:city><span lang="EN-IE">Schuzfeld</span></st1:city><span lang="EN-IE">, </span><st1:state><span lang="EN-IE">Bavaria</span></st1:state><span lang="EN-IE">, </span><st1:country-region><span lang="EN-IE">West Germany</span></st1:country-region></st1:place><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">PADI certified Open Water Scuba Diver</span><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Skiing</span><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Member of the Irish Film Centre</span><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span lang="EN-IE">Jogging and Flying [me likey that flying is last <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>on par with jogging]</span></span></li></ul><span style="font-size:100%;">Since hitting the Flynnbox, this list has hung in my office cube, conveniently just under my prized photo with Matt Ryan.
<br /></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><span style=";font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-IE"><span style="font-family:georgia;">
<br />
<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3VWJeEkaeI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7qcfBN3682Y/s1600-h/lilleha.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S3VWJeEkaeI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7qcfBN3682Y/s400/lilleha.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437346845810780642" border="0" /></a>
<br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-IE"><span style="font-family:georgia;">As with all Atlanta-based fairytales, this story has a predictable ending: Adventuresome Irish Surgeon is married.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-IE"><span style="font-family:georgia;">P.S. Happy Valentine's Day
<br /></span></span></p>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-81342211388215112982010-01-29T15:21:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:50:34.749-08:00Flynnbox (3) The Sisterhood of the Black Listed Pants<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S2RXTz1UrnI/AAAAAAAAAEA/5asXUpNMckU/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S2RXTz1UrnI/AAAAAAAAAEA/5asXUpNMckU/s400/untitled.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432563048358653554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Thanks to a satin-loathing terror from Cornell University, the former Panhellenic recruitment chair in me is feeling better about the zero-jolerance (that’s no denim) dress code enforced during my recruitment reign in ’06.<br /><br />A fellow former soristitute tossed the below gem into the Flynnbox. The post sheds light on said terror from Cornell as she John Edwardses her chapter’s national reputation with a six-page diatribe of recruitment fashion do's and are-you-@#$%-kidding-me's. Through jabs a la </span><blockquote style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />“No one looks good in satin dresses unless it’s from Betsey Johnson or Dolce & Gabbana, you weigh less than 130 pounds, have three pairs of Spanx on and it’s New Years Eve,”</span></blockquote><span style="font-size:130%;"> this monster (I like to think her name is Mary Catherine Grace) makes the cast of Mean Girls seem more like The Babysitters Club.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Her full manual, found <a href="http://bit.ly/piphicornell">here</a>, forbids glittery butterflies and "gross, plastic shizzzz," but notably condones denim leggings. Eh, agree to disagree.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-57032471539646153682010-01-19T03:54:00.001-08:002010-02-23T18:53:20.943-08:00Cake in Breakfast's Clothing<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">If Jon and Kate buried the hatchet and renewed their vows and Tiger Woods called on </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >me </span><span style="font-family:georgia;">for advice to help with his current branding woes, I'd suggest he research the ultimate marketing success story: the breakfast muffin. Society's acceptance of the muffin is nothing short of miraculous, if not downright bizarre. Essentially cake, the arbitrary label of muffin transformed a mix of sugar and butter into an acceptable alternative to oatmeal. </span></span>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S1WdlyjX59I/AAAAAAAAADY/83xshwAtEi0/s1600-h/muffin2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 332px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S1WdlyjX59I/AAAAAAAAADY/83xshwAtEi0/s400/muffin2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428418198415861714" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Unless you've been hijacked by a kindergartner, it'd be social suicide to cruise into Starbucks and ask for a cup o' joe and chocolate chip ice cream. Contrastly, pair your grande with a double chocolate chip muffin, and $7 later you're armed with morning props ripe for the office break room. If the moniker switcheroo worked for cake, why not pulled pork? Show me a marketing team who can put pulled pork on the menu at Panera Bread, and I'll show you the mindset who can lead Tiger out of the woods. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
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<br />Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-81162917769074555232010-01-12T17:31:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:55:36.057-08:00Peeing is BelievingEveryone's a critic, even the eternal optimist that is me. After J. Crew slapped a pair of jean shorts on the back cover of its Spring 2010 issue, I refused to believe that they'd gone the jort route until I saw the jatastrophes perched on a display at Lenox Square.<br /><br />In turn, I get that people are slow to swallow my claim that Huck has extreme urination capabilities. Yup. Extreme urination capabilities. Some dogs catch zigzagging Frisbees. Others master roll-sit-stay-paw sequences that rival fraternal handshakes. Mine? He relieves his bladder for a startling amount of time. He sits on command when the mood strikes. He throws up a paw if and only if there's a treat involved. But ask him to display some liquid action, and color me a fire hydrant's mother.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YA2SSSX9POE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YA2SSSX9POE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-6961633618782456072010-01-08T12:04:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:56:21.101-08:00Flynnbox (2)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S0eQLNvZOaI/AAAAAAAAACo/OlpFhiPlN1s/s1600-h/WYMM.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 128px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S0eQLNvZOaI/AAAAAAAAACo/OlpFhiPlN1s/s400/WYMM.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424462798532458914" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Tahoma; panose-1:2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:1627421319 -2147483648 8 0 66047 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">The "A Guy, A Girl and a Cheez-It Box" engagement story below hit the Flynnbox by way of a friend of a friend of this bride-to-be. As Jill parlays details about her fiance's lunchbox-cracker-driven proposal, she makes it clear that the Cheez-Its of note were of the reduced fat variety. Jill may be a fan of the exclamation point, but a glutton for saturated fat she is <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span>.
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<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">Hello friends and family,
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">I’m writing to share some very wonderful news with you! Jeff and I are ENGAGED! We’re so very, very excited. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">The proposal was a complete surprise and very cute! I was back in </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-size:10;">California</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-size:10;"> for Christmas and Jeff picked me up at the airport on Sunday. As we were walking into the apartment, he said that he had gotten me my favorite snack – reduced fat Cheez-Its (I eat “<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">RFCs</span>” constantly and normally have to throw the box out after a few handfuls or else I will eat the entire box in one sitting). When we walked in, the box was on the counter, but there were also Cheez-Its all over the floor. Jeff exclaimed, “Oh no, Sampson (our dog) must have gotten into the box!!” But I looked closer and there was a little trail of Cheez-Its leading down the hall. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">I opened the door to the bedroom and there were roses on the bed in the shape of a heart and “Will you marry me?” spelled out in Cheez-Its.</span> I turned around and Jeff was on one knee holding a ring! </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">We couldn’t be happier!
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">
<br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10;">XOXO,
<br />Jill</span></span></p> Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-41246435144782300492010-01-05T16:21:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:56:45.349-08:00Nails in ComparisonAt the bottom of the list of things I deem intimidating, tucked just below maltipoo puppies and Paula Deen, is the art of naming a nail salon. I'm no mathematician, but the equation seems fairly simple: take an adjective, add “Nails” as a suffix and call Emeril Lagasse 'cause—bam!— it’s time to invest in neon signage. Consider these metro Atlanta gems: Crystal Nails, Deluxe Nails, Dynamic Nails, Elegant Nails, Fancy Nails, Foxy Nails, Happy Nails (Avatar 3D glasses and child-size orange soda free with purchase), Magical Nails, Millennium Nails, Regal Nails, Solar Nails, Spontaneous Nails. Given the replicated context clues, even this liberal arts major can surmise that Adjective + Nails = Profit.<br /><br />Sprinkled among the cluster of Adjective + Nails flagships are traces of creativity (Alpha Nails Salon, Blooming Nails), nonsense (Nailport Express, Victoria Nail Sup), apprehension (Nailtrap, Second Try), humor (Pamper My Peaches Nail Salon), confidence (Ten Perfect Nails), bluntness (Kim for Nails), vulgarity (Number 1 Nail, Number 2 Nail) and nightmarish grammar (Oh! La La La Nails, Poochiez Pawz Nail Studio). But even 99 Fashion Nails* pales in comparison to Panahar Bangladesh Cuisine. That’s right. Atlanta is home to the Georgia Aquarium, Turner Field, the World of Coke <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>the all-in-one Bangladesh-style restaurant/hair and nail salon that is Panahar Bangladesh Cuisine. Mani, pedi, pad thai? Check, please.<br /><br />*Flynnsight suggested slogan: We’ve got 99 problems, but chipped paint ain’t one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S0PaKMLr6UI/AAAAAAAAACQ/05W2EklGA_M/s1600-h/Nail+Salon.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S0PaKMLr6UI/AAAAAAAAACQ/05W2EklGA_M/s320/Nail+Salon.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423418244887996738" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Say it ain’t so? Click <a href="http://bit.ly/NailSalons">here </a>for a full list of nail salons in the greater Atlanta area.Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-81454761644115842912010-01-02T07:22:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:58:58.595-08:00Flynnbox (1)<span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >While completing her application for Junior League, a friend asked which phone number she should include for me as her potential sponsor. When I replied with (404) <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">867-5309</span>, the musical reference to Tommy Tutone’s 1980s chart topper went undetected and said friend submitted her application with a sly tribute to Jenny and her number on a wall. Below is the recon e-mail this good sport fired back to the League:</span><span style="font-size:100%;">
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<br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Hi Mary,</span> <span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >
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<br />I recently submitted my application for the winter provisional class and have a question about my sponsor. I spoke with Julie about having Meg Flynn as my sponsor. If she is approved for sponsor-dom, please note that this Tommy Tutone-loving sponsor’s actual number is (954) 821-1604.</span> <span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >
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<br />Sincerely,</span><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Gullible Friend</span>
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<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="Edit-Time-Data" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_editdata.mso"><!--[if !mso]> <style> v\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} o\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} w\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} .shape {behavior:url(#default#VML);} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:12;" ><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/Sz5MxRfLTOI/AAAAAAAAABo/ptMjIoz4l_o/s1600-h/Sorry.JPG"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"> <v:stroke joinstyle="miter"> <v:formulas> <v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"> <v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"> <v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"> <v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"> </v:formulas> <v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"> <o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"> </v:shapetype><v:shape id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421855410792123618" spid="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/Sz5MxRfLTOI/AAAAAAAAABo/ptMjIoz4l_o/s1600-h/Sorry.JPG" style="'width:240pt;height:163.5pt'" button="t"> <v:imagedata src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\Owner.Meg\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image001.jpg" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/Sz5MxRfLTOI/AAAAAAAAABo/ptMjIoz4l_o/s320/Sorry.JPG"> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--></span></a></span>
<br />Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682352258801100222.post-43380931894419584782010-01-01T10:59:00.000-08:002010-02-23T18:54:30.353-08:00Once, Twice, Three Times iLazy<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5COwner.Meg%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Georgia; panose-1:2 4 5 2 5 4 5 2 3 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size:100%;">What did 2007, 2008 and 2009 have in common, besides a flailing economy? Oh, that’s' an easy one. They all started out as The Year in Which I Would Join the Blogosphere. As markets plummeted, a Portuguese water dog made headlines and the iPhone (the iJealous for my fellow Verizonians) became ubiquitous, my blogger aspirations continuously gave way to e-malaise. Write about the time I confused—and used—nail polish remover as eye makeup remover? Eh, maybe I'll just make a snack and start some laundry. Document the blind date that ended one oniony cheeseburger, a split check and two handshakes later? Eh, maybe I'll just fold some laundry. Scribble about the weekday morning when efforts to retrieve my debit card from a neighbor’s storm drain landed me at the corner of Virginia Avenue, armed with a flashlight, a broom, chewing gum and electrical tape? Eh, maybe I'll just clip coupons for fabric softener.</span>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S0FmM8vcbSI/AAAAAAAAACA/uY9znQjmoWM/s1600-h/churchsign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 202px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1sRD-BF3SFg/S0FmM8vcbSI/AAAAAAAAACA/uY9znQjmoWM/s320/churchsign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422727798980373794" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style=";font-family:Georgia;color:black;" >Proofread: You're On Candid eCamera</span></b><span style="font-family:Georgia;">
<br /><span style="font-size:100%;">So, here we are. Lucky 2010. In an effort to stave off another year of idled e-authordom, I'll share ownership [read: plagiarize] of Flynnsight content with the supporting cast in the Life of Meg Flynn. If it's been e-mailed, tweeted, texted, mailed or Facebooked and it hit the inbox—the Flynnbox, if you will—color it fair game for posting. I'll also share Flynnsight into quirky passions like my crusade against exclamation points and contempt for commercial </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><st1:country-region><st1:place>America</st1:place></st1:country-region></span></st1:place></st1:country-region></span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">'s love affair with Papyrus font. Occasionally, you'll find an anecdotal blip a la the nail polish remover and storm drain follies. All posts will be of the exclamation-point-free variety, natch.
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<br />Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines (and by engines, I mean left neural hemispheres). First post drops tomorrow.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia">
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<br /></a> </p> Flynnsighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13614694724896856426noreply@blogger.com0