Workplace safety has reached a new low: lunch
A downtown office worker was so offended by the smell of a colleague’s spicy lunch, she called security. Now that’s passive aggressive.
Journalist, Author & Syndicated Columnist
A downtown office worker was so offended by the smell of a colleague’s spicy lunch, she called security. Now that’s passive aggressive.
Step aside, Anna Kournikova. You’ve got some tasty competition on the pinup calendar front. More than a baker’s dozen of top Chicago area chefs have struck a pose to help fight hunger. Unlike the beefcake and cheesecake calendars flooding the market, there were no age, sex or physique requirements for these models, who gladly posed for the Northeastern Illinois Area Agency on Aging’s Holiday Meals on Wheels (Out of the Kitchen to Fight Hunger) calendar.
Here’s how Katharine Callard outsmarted the SATs: She chose a college that didn’t require them. That’s right: She didn’t sweat those SAT prep classes, and she got into Hampshire College anyway. Of course, as a straight-A student at the top-notch Latin School of Chicago, Callard had a pretty good idea of her ability to do well in college.
Chicagoans want to hear Ray Charles sing “America the Beautiful.” We are reading up on the Middle East. We are renting movies that celebrate the human spirit, but some of us also are checking out “Armageddon” and “Independence Day”–films where the United States reigns victorious. In different ways, we all are sating our psyches with comfort entertainment–in whatever form we need it–to help us deal with last week’s tragedy.
It is noon Friday. Thirty-six little heads are bowed in honor of the victims of Tuesday’s tragedy. Many of them have miniature American flags perched on their desks. These children-many of whom don’t yet like members of the opposite sex in that way-cling onto each other’s hands in solidarity. They are fifth graders at Arthur Dixon Elementary School on the South Side. Bright and articulate, they are acutely aware of this week’s events. They speak as knowledgeably about the terrorists as they do about pint-sized rap star Lil Bow Wow.
She’s 25 and dissatisfied. Who was she? Why hadn’t life lived up to her expectations? What was the meaning of life? Wasn’t this crisis of extended navel gazing supposed to happen when she turned 50? Not if you’re going through a “quarterlife crisis.”
Get over it isn’t eactly what you want to hear when your mother dies. Neither does heading that your loved one looks good dead. Yet the awkward words from the lips of our friends and family often add up to extreme insensitivity and hurt feelings, when it’s the last thing they mean. In the quiet moments after goodbyes have been said, it’s often hard to avoid dwelling on the hackneyed nature of sympathetic wishes. While we’d liek to think of our well wishers in a positive, warm light, those of us who have grieved can’t help but wonder: “What were they thinking? Are they nuts?”
When is a perfect size 6 not so perfect? When it’s really a size 8. Confused? Join the club. If you’re a woman–or you’ve ever tried shopping for your favorite femme–you already know that judging fit by eyeballing the item or checking the tag is a crapshoot. A size 6 Donna Karan skirt may fit like a charm. But if you try that same size in something like Guess? or BCBG, you may wonder when you managed to pack on an extra five pounds.
“I very rarely see a patient that says she wants to look different than her heritage,” says says Dr. Alan Matarasso. “The goal is to give more definition to the eyelid, but not to make Asian women look Westernized.”
The motor-mouth trap: They’re compulsive talkers–and they’ve got you cornered, frantically looking for a way out of their constant yammering. You know the ones. Ask them what time it is, and they tell you how to build a clock. Here’s how to savor the sounds of silence again.
Every time you click on an Internet site–even those having nothing to do with e-commerce–you are taking the chance that some marketer or Web host will take the opportunity to gather personal information about you without your knowledge, says the Electronic Privacy Information Center.
Just when did the shift take place from the customer always being right to just being a plain pain in the butt? In recent months, I have been cut by a manicurist, pierced by a tack while trying on clothes at a department store, handed mixed-up food orders and messed-up film negatives and subjected to cab trips in which the drivers’ seats were so far back that I had to kiss my knees. Fact is, I can deal with inconveniences. But they’d be a lot easier to stomach if people would just show some common courtesy.
I realize that no one’s going to mistake me for Tyra Banks and that Keanu Reeves probably won’t be knocking on my door any time soon with an engagement ring (although a girl can always dream). But I’ve got a good career going, my mental health is stable and I’m debt-free. In some countries, I would be considered a good catch.
Whitney Houston ignored the pleas of her mother, friends and drug specialists who hoped that an intervention last summer would persuade the singer to seek professional treatment, US Weekly reports in an issue hitting newsstands Friday.
I never knew I was a spinster until my bank told me so. It’s true I am an unmarried woman. I like to think of myself as an independent, financially secure woman who is capable of buying a home by myself. But I suppose that takes up too much space on the line next to my name. My married friends didn’t have to deal with this humiliation when they signed up for their mortgages. And my single guy friends were described as “bachelor.”
For those of you lucky enough to have loving, significant others, Valentine’s Day is a dream come true. But for the rest of us, it’s a dreaded night second only to New Year’s Eve. The expectations are so high that disappointment is as likely as anything else. Not only are we supposed to have a date, but it’s supposed to be with the perfect guy. And we can’t just go out for a nice meal. It has to be a special meal.
Rosa Parks. Martin Luther King. Malcolm X. Oprah Winfrey. They are all pioneers who have made an impact on American society. And all four most likely will make the final cut of “The 100 Most Influential African Americans of the 20th Century.”
People think that teen shows are just for teen viewers. But cop shows aren’t just for cops, just like doctor shows aren’t just for doctors. Between `Party of Five,’ `Dawson’s Creek’ and (the canceled) `My So-Called Life,’ American TV (programmers) have finally discovered that the lives of teenagers make for good television literature.
There’s one thing I don’t ever want to see in a women’s room — a man. Ever since “Ally McBeal” hit it big on Fox, talk around the water cooler has centered on two things: the brevity of our heroine’s hemline and the uncomfortable concept of the coed bathrooms that the attorneys share on the show.
Dumping your friends is different from losing touch. The latter is passive action that happens because one of you moves away, or he gets married, or she has a baby and is too busy to listen to you harp about a Kate Spade handbag that you absolutely have to have. Eventually, you run into each other again, exchange new numbers and addresses and make an effort to renew your friendship.