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My friend Elmer Boutin wrote several articles about the most recent #BlogathonATX. This one is an excellent review of our session on video blogging, led by Talmadge Boyd. I really love Elmer’s note-taking style. I think we’ve found the official scribe of Blogathon! Video Blogging With Talmadge Boyd – #BlogathonATX By Elmer Boutin – The Crossing of Marketing & IT Talmadge Boyd (@Talmadge) headed up with first session at BlogathonATX and gave out some great tips on video bloggin. Here they are, in no particular order of importance: Anyone who’s not afraid of their face should video blog. You shouldn’t be afraid, how you look like how you’re going to look. Check out The War of Art by Steven Pressfield (Amazon Affiliate link). Don’t use the excuse that “I’m just not into it today” or “The muse just isn’t with me” for creating. If you create for a living, get out there and do it. Content-wise, everything needs to be bite-sized. People don’t consume things like they used to. A challenege it to make thjngs short enough and compelling enough to to get your message across. Write a short piece and then shoot based on on that idea or thought. Don’t…
Read MoreHello iPad, my old friend I’ve come to play with you again But this network is slowly creeping Dropped the Wi-Fi while I was Skyping And the iTunes that were planted in my brain Still remain Within the walls of Apple The internets I walked alone My iPod and my iPhone By the halo of an iMac Ten hours of Photoshop won’t break my back When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of some rare sunlight (I worked all night) Just like the staff at Apple And in the iTunes store I saw Ten thousand mobile apps or more People sharing songs on Spotify Checked in on Foursquare though I don’t know why People writing blogs that no one ever shares ’cause no one cares Except the nerds at Apple Hardware choices start to grow MacBook Air or MacBook Pro They say the iPhone 5 is coming soon When it does I’m pretty sure I’ll swoon But my hopes, like silent teardrops fell And echoed Within the well of Apple And the people bowed and prayed To the Apple god they made And their thumbs all hurt from texting Too many hashtags and LOL-ing And their texts said, “The…
Read MoreFor the past few weeks my house has been a construction zone. We’re not talking about a “moved furniture to paint the wall” situation, but a full-fledged, air-compressing, belt-sanding jobsite. My brother-in-law, Jay, came down from Waco to help my husband completely gut and remodel the front office. Please do not skim that last line—yes, I said Waco. My husband accuses me of being the most judgmental non-judgmental person he’s ever met, but I’m sorry, if you can’t see the town of Waco as being pertinent to this or any other story, you must be from Longview. Jay is a nice enough fellow, but let’s just say that not even with bifocals and Lasik surgery will we ever see eye to eye. He’s the NRA, to my NOW; the venison stew to my tofu stir-fry. I think it would be accurate to call him a good ol’ boy. Jay is a hunter. A cross between weapons depot and meat processing plant, his house is more Guns & Ammo than Better Homes & Gardens. When not killing woodland creatures, Jay likes cooking and eating them. Equal parts Betty Crocker and Ted Nugent, Jay seems to be an expert on everything from…
Read MoreHave you ever had one of those days where you feel like you’d be better off going back to bed? You know—the one where you’re buried in paperwork, the sink is clogged and your spouse just used your $40 tweezers to pull a staple out of the wall? Of course you have. Perhaps you’ve found a way to take the edge off—maybe a glass of wine or a moist snack cake. Personally, I prefer to unwind after a harrowing day by flipping through the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. More commonly known as the DSM (not to be confused with the DMV, which has its own unique collection of mental cases), this tantalizing tome produced by the American Psychiatric Association is the how-to manual of hypochondriacs and former beauty pageant contestants everywhere. Here are a few examples that illustrate why just a couple minutes of reading can change one’s entire outlook on life. I hope you’ll find it useful. 1) Intermittent Explosive Disorder: Symptoms include frequent and often unpredictable episodes of extreme anger or physical outbursts. While I typically shy away from confrontation, even this mild-mannered gal has her limits. Consider the great laundromat episode of 1996, during…
Read MoreA few things you may not know about IleenieWeenie… I suffer from emetaphobia (irrational fear of vomit). More than once I’ve spent the night in my car in the driveway when my husband’s had a stomach bug. One summer I took graphic design courses in Switzerland with the guy who designed the IBM logo. I was a ski bum in Vail, Colorado for three years. I won 1st place in the 6th grade science fair with an experiment involving human teeth. My parents almost named me Samantha, but my mom was worried that if I had a lisp I’d be Thamantha Markowithz. I was Junior class president of my high school. I once tread water for seven hours straight for a contest at summer camp. (I won) I don’t eat meat that walks on land, and I don’t like vegetables. I kept a pair of rhinestone dance shoes in the trunk of my car for nearly 10 years. (because you just never know) One of the best meals of my life was Long John Silver’s takeout, and I wasn’t even stoned. ** Mr. Weenie thinks I should add that I’ve never seen “The Outlaw Josey Wales.”
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Learning to Fly Packing for our two-week trip to Colorado took more time than I’d allotted—in part because a certain stealthy poodle kept removing items from my suitcase whenever I turned my back—so we didn’t get to bed until after midnight the day of our departure. I’d optimistically hoped my choice of a gentle wake up alarm might make the lack of sleep less agonizing. Turns out, “babbling brook” sounds a lot like “flushing toilet” at 3:45 a.m. And who could have predicted my iPhone’s back-up alarm, set to the sound of crickets, would sound more like music from the shower scene in “Psycho” than a chorus of insects? On the bright side, the ensuing jolt of adrenaline made for an efficient tumble out of bed. This was the Weenie family’s first time traveling with their dog, Dexter. Actually, it was the first time we’d ever traveled with a pet at all, unless you count my mastiff-sized carryon bag. (More on that later.) You would have thought we were headed to the Westminster dog show, what with the way we prepared for this scrawny six pound poodle. Dexter had everything from a canine ski jacket the size of a bedroom…
Read MoreIn Part 1 of the Travelin’ Weenie series, I introduced you to the preparations this family goes through before setting out on a vacation. (And by “this family,” I mean me.) In the next chapter of the series, we dig deeper into the delicate art of neurotic air travel… I bring two bags on every trip. The bag with all my clothing, makeup, toiletries, rain gear, shoes, etc. is checked through, and I carry the other one onboard with me. Despite being weighed at home on the bathroom scale, my checked bag was a few pounds over the 50-pound limit. Thus was I forced to endure the withering stares of the holier-than-thou light-packer set as I moved two sweatshirts and a toiletry kit the size of a small raft into Mr. Weenie’s bag. (This is why I never pack undies or Tampax on top.) While Mr. Weenie’s carryon bag consisted of a toy poodle and iPod, mine contained enough supplies to set up a small base camp at the foothills of Everest. You may think I’m kidding, but I do not joke about carryon luggage. Here’s what I bring with me on the plane when I travel: Blow-up neck pillow,…
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I’m not a big fan of flying, but since I love to travel I can’t always avoid airplanes. It’s not that I’m afraid of crashing—I tend to go with the statistics on that and hope for the best. (I have a similar approach to the stock market and swimming right after lunch.) My fear is of a more insidious, slow kind: Death by plane germs (plerms). What child picked its nose and wiped it on my arm rest? Who is that coughing up a lung in the exit row? How many heads have rested on this miniature dust mite farm some call a pillow? Am I in good enough shape to stiff-arm the flight attendant in case I have to flee from some errant projectile vomit? Is there a clear path from my seat to the lavatory? (I could write an entire post on lavatory protocol alone.) Now imagine if you will, sitting next to me on a plane, and you’ll have a glimpse into the life of the bravest, most tolerant man I’ve ever known: Mr. Weenie. Let’s face it, neuroses this deep don’t limit themselves to the friendly skies. (You should see me try to make lasagna or…
Read MoreAfter landing at the Denver airport, picking up our embarrassing mountain of luggage from the baggage carousel and renting a car, the Weenies were off on their Colorado extravaganza. Supposedly the first leg of our long drive through the Rockies was quite beautiful. I know this because Mr. Weenie told me so. Apparently I’d fallen asleep about ten minutes into our two-week journey, thanks to my inflight cocktail of Xanax and Dramamine. As I awakened from my drug-induced coma somewhere near Cripple Creek, we decided to stop for sustenance; and by sustenance, I mean potato chips and powdered sugar doughnuts. So there we were—making our way around snowcapped mountains and winding rivers, all hopped up on trans fats and corn syrup. Unfortunately, even the refreshing breeze of the largest mountain chain in North America couldn’t overcome the stench of a certain foul-breathed poodle who’d just spent three hours in a bag stuffed under a seat. All I could do was thank the gods for Febreeze and cover his head with a map. Traveling with a dog is both fun and challenging. Getting Dexter to eat and drink by the side of the road was a poor choice, so we gave…
Read MoreDay two of the Weenies’ excellent adventure began with a visit to the Royal Gorge. In addition to its spectacular plunge of over 1,000 feet to the Arkansas River below, the Royal Gorge’s sheer cliff walls support the world’s largest suspension bridge. Even more impressive than the bridge itself was the fact that I had cell service from just outside the park gates. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s possible when I regularly drop calls on the way to my sister’s house in west Austin. While the circus surrounding this national treasure reminded me of a geologically-themed amusement park, and the entry fee for the two of us sounded as steep as the rock walls beyond the front gate, Mr. Weenie insisted it was worth the price. Keep in mind that I was traveling with the Clark Griswold of the Weenie family. As I stood there envisioning a $50, 30-second, head-nodding peek at the gorge from atop a very large bridge, a generous old codger handed us a six dollar discount coupon (which coincidentally, was the exact price of a funnel cake). Decision made. Having paid for the experience, we decided to take full advantage of all the…
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