Verena Says

There is so much I love about this image. Photoshop credit goes to @danielshea.

» This Makes Me Sad, If Only Because I Regularly Flout The Law And Bring Dumbo On The Subway Sans Bag. (What? He's Heavy.)

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Let's Talk This Out

So, yesterday, I wrote this. And, as some of you may or may not know, I used to work here. And knowing how these things work (because I used to work there) and knowing the platform HuffPost offers and knowing that because it’s my piece and because neither Air America Media nor HuffPost care whether or not I’d published it on their respective sites, I chose to re-publish the aforementioned piece, in its entirety, on HuffPost. Then I promptly went on with my day.

Until I got a Google alert directing me to ASSME.org - you’ve heard of them, you might be going to their fundraiser next week, and heck, like me, maybe you actually worked with one of its editors over here - to see that Drew Grant had written a post about my cross-published piece.

Her post reads:

So lets see: Air America’s website published this story about how you can actually learn stuff by watching how Lauren Conrad navigated her career on The Hills …and the Huffington Post thought that this was so inspirational that they did one of their patented copy-and-paste deals and took Verena von Pfetten’s entire article to reprint on their site.

I’m not sure why I’m coming to the defense of my previous employer who, most undoubtedly, does not need defending, and to be fair, Drew’s post seems to, in a somewhat condescending way, be coming to my defense, but here’s the thing: why was there no effort to get the facts straight?

Would it have been so difficult to email me to, I don’t know, just ask if HuffPost had stolen my content?

Because the answer - if anyone had actually cares - is, in fact, no.

That’s all.

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I start my new job tomorrow.

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We're A Dying Breed

Like any 21st century, self-obsessed person, I have a Google Alert on my name. And like most 21st century, self-obsessed people, there’s no real reason it. Most of the alerts I get serve as unnecessary reminders that I’ve just published something for the site at which I work or that some spammy robot in the farthest regions of the internet has linked to my piece, my blog, or something someone else wrote about me 8 months ago.

And then there was today’s, which — though biting — has provided me with the best qualification of my job description I’ve ever read:

Huffpo welcomed [Bo Obama] with meandering, tepid columns of regurgitated nothingness last week: Dr Patricia Fitzgerald wrote 1000 words on how cool the Obamas were for promoting the wellness pets bring their owners; Wendy Diamond is ga-ga over how hip and jazzy the name “Bo” is (“BO!!! As in Bo Diddley, curious — when did Malia and Sasha Obama start listening to Bo Diddley?”; and finally, Huffpo’s “Living Editor” — that’s presumably as opposed to the now-dead one who authorised the budget for this crap — Verena Von Pfetten contributed this phenomenal sentence to the discourse: “Oh, look! There’s a photo of him running with Obama! Squee!!”

(Emphasis mine.)

That said, NewMatilda, you’re funny and above all, not necessarily wrong, but two things: you forgot a parenthesis, and you’ve managed to miss one of the most over-publicized facts about HuffPost, which is to say: we don’t pay.

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So this morning while trying to put in my contacts, one of them got misplaced. As they were my last pair, I looked all over for it and even called in for reinforcement. It was not in my hair, on my face, down my shirt or on the floor. It was not in my eye, nor in the sink, nor near the case or by the door. Tonight, I’m brushing my teeth and this is what I see. Seriously.

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peterssecondthought:

Me and Zac.

Peter makes me laugh. And that’s why I lovies him.

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Dude, If The Internet Can't Tell Me Where Find The Cash Cab Then Really What's The Point?

kellyreeves:

adamiss:

nudawn:

(via michaelorell)

I was on cash cab once. I’ve told you all the story haven’t I? They cast the show. So you’re never going to accidentally catch a cash cab.

Sorry to burst your bubble.

I came so close

I too had an appointment for the CC. But my friends and I were too sick to be up as late as our scheduled ‘meet us on X block’ time required. : ( My mom watches the show religiously and was so bummed when I missed my chance.

Me too. Also: this.

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Ugh, Sorry

I was just taking a vanity gander at Verena Says and for all intents and purposes 4 out of my last 5 posts have involved photos of me. Please accept my most sincere apologies. In penance, I am promptly disabling Photo Booth.

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I’ve dreamed (literally) of this moment and it’s finally happened: the inimitable KatieBakes and I have met.

[photo via NickMcGlynn]

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GPOYW - a day late and a buck short: Unwashed and Wearing My New Glasses edition.

And while we’re on the topic of gratuitous posts: It’s that time of week where you do something decidedly gratuitous, but in this case, it’s for someone else. Rachel’s brainchild: GPICT!

My pick: Best Friends Animal Society (of Dogtown and Michael Vick fame) — for all the puppies out there not lucky enough to be owned by someone like me. See also: this.)

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peterssecondthought:

My 1st Vagina Monologue; AKA - Vlog!!!

Oh, look! It’s my BFF Peter, vlogging, er, vagina monologue-ing away. Yeah, I know he’s a stud, it’s cool.

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charitini:

I deliberately left two awesome online ladies off my list because I wanted to post this for GPOYW. They are Verena von Pfetten and Glynnis MacNicol - two of my favorite Canadian compadres. Verena is smart and hilarious and sitting across from her is one of the few things I miss about HuffPo (I’d say the fridge full of Diet Coke, but Dan keeps us well looked after); and Glynnie is - my Glynnie! I don’t even know where to start but she is the best. Full stop. (If you need me to enumerate why, you obviously aren’t reading enough FishbowlNY. Go now.) Also I don’t know how we both grew up in Canada with the same exposure to U.S. politics and yet she knows everything about everything and I make jokes about sexy presidential names (oh come on. WOODrow Wilson? James POLK? Millard FILLMORE?). Anyway. GPOYW. Also stands for “Girl Power Oh Yeah!” Wednesday. Woooo!

See, this is why I love Rachel. (Also, that hair is why I did this.)

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GPOYW, or, in today’s non-acronymic edition: “Today Sucks And This Is Me With My Adorable Dog Who Needs Surgery To Prevent Paralysis.”

Amidst all the other suckiness going on in my life (which may or may not be indirectly proportionate to the amount of posting I’ve been doing — my typical reaction to stress is various levels of immobility), I woke up yesterday morning to my precious Prince Dumbledore screaming (there is no other word for it) in pain, unable to walk and/or control his bladder.

I’d had a similar experience with Dums twice before, but nowhere near as severe, the 2nd occurence of which warranted Dumbo’s Metro-North Adventure where the kindly neurologist said to wait until it occured again, then bring him in immediately. Which brings us to yesterday, wherein in between curses and tears I car-serviced (seriously — there was no Metro-North-ing this episode) myself and my whimpering muffin to the Animal Specialty Center in Yonkers where an MRI was ordered for the morning.

And, as it turns out, Dumbo has a ruptured disc in his neck that is severely compressing his spinal cord, causing the first signs of paralysis in his right side (inability to recognize where exactly his legs are / delayed reactions) and which requires surgery as soon as possible, ideally this afternoon or tomorrow morning.

And that sucks. It sucks for my dog because I want him to just be a happy, healthy, spoiled and spunky creature, not a suffering, sedated, and surgery-requiring mess. And, less importantly but more fiscally immediate, it sucks for my wallet. But of course I’m going to do it because he’s my dog and I love him and there are mornings where I wake up and I just have no idea how I would get out of bed if not for his snorting, snuffly, and smelly face and how could I have taken responsibility for this snuggly, lazy creature without taking into account the possibility of this happening, no matter how horrible, how heart-wrenching, and how, to be totally honest and/or crass, expensive?

There is a tooth-surgery I’ve been refusing to get because I already spent thousands of dollars on the same procedure (different tooth) last year and I’ll suffer through the ache, damnit, because who can afford that sort of thing on a yearly basis?, but when it comes to my dog, the indisputable love of my life (sorry, Nick), I will, of course, make this happen.

After today I will be out several (read: too many) thousands of dollars that I do not in any way, shape, or form have and indebted to someone more than I can ever repay them, but, at the very least and with my fingers crossed, my dear little prince will be able to walk, will no longer screech in pain, and will spend the rest of his days repaying me with slobber, farts, and piles of hair in every corner of my apartment.

So yeah, today sucks, but that, my friends, is love.

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Michelle Obama Gives Good Hug.

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