Pammy chronicles

How a Job can Cure an Existential Crisis

“Maybe existential malaise comes from lack of obstacles.”

–Spoken by David Mitchell, author of  “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet,” in an interview with Terry Gross, host of the NPR show, “Fresh Air.”

Ever get to that point in your life where you’re sure you know what’s going to happen next–the words, “I coulda seen that coming,” ever ready to tumble out of your yawning face?

It’s happened to me a few times and when it does, I respond by shaking things up but good. Sometimes too good. This time, I left everything I knew, including my home, dog and friends, to take an advertising job in San Francisco. It wasn’t easy but enduring boredom infused with sameness and predictability seemed worse at the time.

So now I’m back to doing what I’ve done before–writing copy, thinking about brands, and coming up with strategies and tactics designed to take markets by storm (or at least get some attention). This time though, I’m finding things are different.

Though the job title is the same, the ad business is no longer the free-wheeling, crazy and creative world it used to be. Blame on lawsuits or the lousy economy but clients sure have become a whole lot more cautious and restrictive in what can be said and done to get the brand out there. So much so that I now find, I’m more of a copymover–or as a woman in the editorial department put it, a copypaster. What this means is the account team tells me exactly what the client wants, and I dutifully move the “approved” copy around the page.

This leads to conversations like this:

“What’s the call to action?” I ask the account manager, Frank, as he briefs the team on a new ad for a pharma client.

“We want the doctors to call the sales reps,” he says.

Now what I want to say at that point is, that’s not going to happen unless the sales rep is giving out free lap dances. But as we just had a workshop on sexual harassment, I keep my mouth tightly zipped and nod seriously as though I’m thinking hard.

“I know, I know,” says Frank suddenly, waving his hands excitedly. “You can use the bullets with the new data from the clinical trial.”

As I am now a devout team player, I nod my head vigorously and dutifully return to my desk for more copy-and-pasting of approved language. Later, I will be asked to add footnotes, disclaimers, caveats, and references so that by the time I get done with the “ad,” it will look like exactly like a page in a medical journal article.

Some call it advertising. I call it torture. At which point I realize I have traded general boredom with  the frustration of trying to be “creative” in a tight little box. I also realize Mitchell is right because I’ve been spending all my “reserve” creative energy trying to figure my way out of that box and in the meantime haven’t had a single existential crisis.

And to think, I get paid for this.

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Starting Over

Some big news. I’m starting over.

Just when I thought I’d be winding down my (not so illustrious) career in advertising, I find myself taking a “real job” in my late forties. Hard to believe I was actually crazy enough to imagine middle-age would be a time to be cashing in and kicking back.

Right smack in the middle of my 27th (failed) get-rich quick scheme, life went and surprised us all with things like economic collapses, the ruination of property values, and double digit unemployment rates. All of which led me to wake up in a sweaty panic one memorable morning transfixed by the realization that (a) I was too broke to retire and (b) too old to marry rich.

It was a terrible predicament. I spent the rest of the week rewriting my resume (which I hadn’t looked at in five years) and composing professional-sounding “cover letters” (even though I had no idea what “professional” sounded like anymore).

In what could only be described as a miracle (given the economy, for sure, and my “advanced” age most definitely), I eventually landed a senior position in an ad agency. In San Francisco, arguably among the best cities in the country. They even offered to pay my relocation. It was like falling into a crystal clear oasis after wandering aimlessly through a desert.

Within a month, I went:

• From heat (Arizona summer) to fog (San Francisco summer).
• From wearing as little as possible to wearing “layers” (the key to dressing for San Fran weather, I was told by many).
• From a daily circuit that went pool—bed—fridge, to walking everywhere by foot (since I can’t figure out how the public transport works), knapsack firmly strapped to back just in case I want to do some shopping along the way (since I was warned not to bring my car).
• From always whining about being bored and/or my loss of muscle tone, to talking to any stranger who entered my path, usually starting the conversation with: “Hey there, I’m new here. What’s good to eat around here?”
• From having my own bedroom and private bathroom, to sharing a flat with a twenty-something private school teacher in Victorian mansion having eight rooms, one tiny bathroom, roughly 3,000 antique books, an eccentric collection of Asian antiques, and 400 pair of men’s shoes (smelling of course like men’s feet).

I quickly discovered my coping skills had dulled considerably while wandering in the desert, and regularly found myself on the edge of a teary breakdown. Too much change, even if it was positive, was freaking me out.

Upon admitting my fragile state to others, I heard the following bits of sympathy and support:
“Shut up, you got a job!”
“Stop whining, you’re in San Fran!”
“Get over yourself. It’s a new beginning.”

I’m sure I’ll come round in time.

Once I stop crying.

Boo Hoo.

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Buzz in the New Year with Style: Best Vibrator Review

Don’t settle for just any sex toy. I review the best vibrators so you can buzz in the New Year with style and make new friends too!

It’s not too often you meet three new girlfriends with whom you instantly click and know you’ll be friends for life. Amazingly, that’s what happened for me over the holidays. Oh sure, they’re not quite what you’d expect. Okay, I’ll put it out there—they’re vibrators. What’s the big deal? At least they’re not just any vibrators. They’re from LELO, the Swedish company that is to sex toys what Apple is to computers. Through modern design and some seriously elegant engineering, LELO has managed to elevate the embarrassingly ugly sex toy (see Exhibit A) into the “pleasure object,” an icon of “simplicity, sensuality, and sophistication.” (see pictures of my friends, Ina, Mona, and Lily).

[Note to reader: the following is a rare look into the secret sex life of sex toys. For mature audiences only. For a tamer peek into sex toys, please try this though it's not nearly as entertaining...]

I looked up from the white glossy LELO booklet from which I was reading aloud. “Is that really true, Lily?” I asked my tiny new friend.

Lily peeked her head over the edge of her black silk cloak. “Why, yes, it is, especially for me,” she said with authority. “As for Mona and Ina over there,” she nodded towards them, “Well, they can be real dicks. Especially that Ina, who, with all due respect, is a dick and then some.”

“Geesh,” I said surprised by her strong feelings. Maybe professional jealously, I thought to myself, as I reached for Ina and examined her sleek, elongated hour glass figure. Okay, yes, she’s a little phallic looking but she can’t help that. I fiddled with the chubby green thumb-like projection sprouting from her tapered waist; it turned Ina into a modern, hipper version of the old Rabbit vibrator. “Lily,” I said flicking it, “is this thumby thing you mean?”

“Precisely,” said Lily rocking back and forth in agreement. “That thumby thing, as you put it, has simply gone to her head. If I have listen to her go on again about how she’ll be a thousand times more famous than the Rabbit, well, I think I’ll just explode.” Lily went to cross her arms and then remembered she didn’t have any.

Mona suddenly erupted with a lusty, throaty bellow of a laugh that sounded like it came from the depths of her rechargeable battery. “You know,” she said with a voice sounding remarkably like Mae West, “sometimes a good dick is all a girl really needs, and a little thumby thing ain’t gonna hurt either.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mona!” I said relieved to be changing the topic. “And bye the way,” I said with admiration, “who styles you? That purple outfit is a—door—a—bull!” Mona blinked coquettishly, which is when I noticed something else. Other than color, the only difference between Mona and Ina was the thumby thing on Ina.

“Hey, are you guys twins or something?” I asked, my finger waving back and forth between them.

“Fraternal,” said Ina speaking up at last. “And since I’ve finally got the floor,” she continued with gravitas, “I’d like to clear something up. We’re actually a very tight team. You need to know that. Okay, so I got this competitive thing with the Rabbit and it gets on Lily’s nerves. Big deal. Lily’s still the best. She’s a good egg and I love her.”

“And she travels well,” piped up Mona.

I picked up little pink Lily and stroked her. She was so soft to the touch, and yet so hard—a perfect package of ‘tough love.’

“Aw, heck,” Lily said, looking from Ina to Mona and then up at me. “Just giving customers what they want, right where they want it.”

“Amen, sister,” said Mona.

Ina crossed her thumby thing (sort of) and nodded approvingly. I sat back and surveyed my new friends. Gawd, they were a sexy looking bunch. Toned, colorful, and focused. You don’t get that too often in girlfriends. That’s when it dawned on me, I’d never thought about my girlfriends in quite this way before.

“Hey girls, I don’t mean to be getting all weird on you or anything, but,” I stumbled on my words and felt my face redden. “I, err, ah, hmmm, wonder what you think about group sex. Be frank with me now.”

“We thought you’d never ask!” they buzzed in unison. And with that the girls jumped out of their matte black boxes and between my leopard print sheets.

Five Minutes Later…

I stretched languidly on my bed, wrapped in the dome of a pleasure-sated moment. Everything had happened so quickly. One minute there was this barely audible symphony of buzzing—no, it was more like a faint purring (ant sex is louder)—followed my some moaning (mine), a few oh my gods (also mine), some eyes-rolling-into-the-back-of-the-head (mine too), high-pitched gaspy breathing (like I was about to die or something), and finally an explosion of a million little firecrackers in my groin and beyond. I raised my head half off the pillow and looked around for the girls who were strewn wildly around the bed.

“Wow, everything is tingling,” I said with a boozy drawl. Ina gave me a high thumby, while Mona and Lily stared at the ceiling, stupid little grins on their face. “I had no idea girlfriends could be so much fun,” I said trying to uncurl my toes. “You guys are amazing—and you have a speed for every need. Whaddya say we make this a regular thing?” I tried nudging them in the ribs but it’s tricky when your friends are three and seven inches high, respectively. “Nappy time?” I asked yawning.

“Actually,” said Mona all-breathy, “We were thinking more along the lines of drinky-poos, right, girls?”

“Right you are, Mona,” said Lily.

I sat up in a cross-legged position. “I can do drinks, no problem. Cosmos okay?” A hush dropped over the girls like a heavy black blanket. My hand flew to my mouth. “What did I say?” I asked, horrified at the possibility that I might have offended the sweetest little friends a girl ever could have.

Lily bounced over and almost jumped down my ear. “Cosmos…Sex and the City…The Rabbit…you follow?” Her eyes darted in the direction of Ina who looked about to burst into tears. Oh my goodness! I had inadvertently brought up the antiquated Rabbit. How could I be so insensitive? I clapped my hands trying to change the mood.

“Hey!” I said brightly. “I’ve great idea. Let’s do shots of Aqua Vit! The drink of Sweden! A tribute to LELO, who made our love possible!”

“Now you’re talking,” said Mona hopping up and down.

I reached out and held them tightly. “We all good then?” I asked tentatively. Ina, Lily, and Mona purred in happy agreement. “I love you guys,” I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. “My sex life was so empty before. So hit and mostly miss, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Ina sympathetically. “We hear that all the time.”

I got up off the bed and put my clothes back on. As I headed for the kitchen, I suddenly stopped myself at the bedroom door. Another weird, unsettling thought had just hit my brain.
“Hey, guys,” I said turning around. “I gotta ask. I’ve just slept with three girls. Does this make me, well, er, a lesbian?”

Well if vibrators could scream with laughter, they would have. “Are you nuts?” said Mona almost shouting. “It just makes you bisexual!” More hilarious buzzing ensued.

“Oh, phew,” I said wiping my anxious brow. “I mean, what would I have told my boyfriend—Hi honey, I won’t be home for dinner. I’ve left you for three girls…who are also vibrators?”

“Yeah, exactly,” said Lily snickering like a smarty pants. “Ridiculous!”

I shooed them into the shower and went to get our drinks. As I poured shots of Aqua Vit, I couldn’t help but remember something I read recently: 31,406,497 Americans live alone according to the 2008 American Community Survey from the US Census. And then I thought, why, oh why, when there are friends like Ina, Lily, and Mona in the world?

I downed a shot. Here’s to making 2010 the best year ever! May you always get your buzz on and make new friends while you’re at it!

PS: LELO Discount to SeasonedSex readers: Get 20% off your LELO purchase until Jan 5, 2010! Just enter the code: u2M4eZ at LELO.com.

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Can CrossFit Make You Sexy?

Confidence, no matter how it’s “packaged,” is sexy. But how do you increase confidence? For a lot of women, it gets down to how we feel about our bodies. For me, an amazing confidence booster is knowing my body is powerful enough to do whatever I need it to do, so I’ve always worked out.

Lately though I’ve noticed a change. Call me crazy but it might have something to do with this trippy thing called aging. These days, no matter how much I work out, I can’t seem to get strong. I mean really strong–the kind of strong where you can open a vacuum-packed pickle jar in seconds, chase a guy for days, lift 20 gallons of water, or change the tires on your car while also holding your car up. (Okay, maybe not that strong but you get the point.)

My point here is that I can’t even do a single push up, and it’s seriously messing with my head, to say nothing of my sexy. In fact, I can’t get through a yoga class without collapsing face first on the mat, arms and legs splayed open like a bug on a fly swatter.

I found help recently in the form of CrossFit Bootcamp (AKA Grunt School) at Arrowhead Crossfit. ArrowheadCrossFit is owned and operated by Cash Reynolds and his wife, Dr. Natalia Reynolds. (Full disclosure here: Cash agreed to put me through the CrossFit 12-session Grunt School in exchange for my reviewing the experience here, but as always, I write whatever I want.)

I’m more than half way through Grunt School as of this writing. Already, my entire body has toned (especially my arms and upper back), my posture has improved, and my jeans are looser. Friends tell me a certain cockiness has slipped into my stride. Also, I was in the supermarket the other day and opened a whole shelf of baby food jars just because I can.  And I’m not even finished boot camp yet.

So what is it about CrossFit that makes it unlike any other exercise program? One unique aspect is the focus on high intensity, super-efficient routines that exercise your body in the way it was designed to move (known as functional exercise). Each CrossFit session is different for a boredom factor of zero and a challenge factor of, well, infinite. The workouts are done at a gym—in my case, Cash’s gym, ArrowheadCrossFit, an inviting, fun space filled with pull up bars, barbells, kettlebells, hanging rings, and other equipment.

CrossFit was started in the 80′s by a former gymnast, Greg Glassman. It’s taken off recently probably because it took that long for people to burn out and give up on all stuff that doesn’t work.  In addition to its emphasis on intensity and variety (muscles can’t adapt to exercise that keeps changing and that maximizes fitness), CrossFit is very social. You’re never isolated on a machine or mindlessly following some instructor. You’re training with highly motivated, committed people who track their progress along with yours. Yes, it’s demanding but it’s also a lot of fun—especially if you’re training with your significant other.

Cash was also trained as a gymnast. He arrived at CrossFit after spending years training, studying, and writing about fitness. He doesn’t sell any supplements, believing good food and the right exercise are the best medicines. He’s living proof the approach works. By using a combination of a low glycemic diet and CrossFit training, Cash has been able to keep his Type 1 diabetes under remarkable control while achieving uber-strength. (Some examples: Cash deadlifts 500 lbs, back squats 455 lbs, and runs a mile in 5:50 and a marathon in 3:15.)

I confess, when I first started Grunt School, I was intimidated. I mean, Cash looks like he eats apartment complexes for breakfast, how the hell would I keep up with such elite training? I sought out his wife, Natasha, for reassurance. She’s been doing CrossFit for two years and is model slim. I kidded with her that she looked like she couldn’t lift a chocolate bar. She gave me a sly smile and bounded over to the high bars to do a few pull ups, an exercise a lot of guys can’t do. After I picked my jaw up off the ground, I gulped hard. I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing it. Natasha later explained she couldn’t do a single push up when she started.

Suitably inspired, I got to work.

Skill and technique are critical to success and Cash guided me through each step, ensuring I was moving properly and not risking damage. Each workout involves two activities chosen for their complementary effects fitness-wise and done at a level of intensity and efficiency guaranteed to bring the toughest to their knees.

It turned me into a whimpering mewling baby crawling across the floor begging for a hot bath filled with epsom salts and a Swedish massage. But then, after a day of recovery, I’d notice a shift. It was as though, after each session, my metabolic machinery were fine tuning itself as the sinews and muscles of my body incrementally strengthened and my energy and endurance ratcheted up.

It’s a very cool feeling. I asked Cash if most people experience this kind of thing.

“Every person I’ve trained has reported increased strength, mobility, energy, motivation, stamina and endurance,” he said. “I’ve trained two Navy SEAL teams, a division of navy seamen, two basketball camps, a wrestling team, and about 60 individuals,” Cash added.

Most of the effect is obviously from CrossFit, but I’ve got to believe some of it is Cash–he’s no ordinary teacher. He puts his all into training people—attention to detail, thorough explanations, patience and enthusiastic support, and a nuanced understanding of body function and form so you come to understand your own body better than ever. I had to wonder what kept him going.

“It’s purely passion,” Cash said. “Passion for teaching people how to increase their self-esteem and improve their physical being, which I believe is the foundation for everything else. People stand taller, walk confidently, feel better, and are proud of what they’ve accomplished. That is the greatest payment I could ever hope for, and I freaking love my work.”

I can’t say I freaking love CrossFit yet—it’s more like CrossFit is the challenge I love to hate. I do love the results so far though.  The big test will come on the last day when I’ll see how I do with the dreaded push up. I’ll report back then and let you know. Wish me luck!

PS: If you’re looking for a great gift idea for Christmas (it’s a blast doing it with your partner or a friend) or you’re determined to keep your New Year’s resolution at last, Cash is offering $100 off the introductory training (Grunt School, which is 12-sessions) until the end of January, 2010. Here’s the contact info:

Tel: (480) 444-2310
Email: cash@arrowheadcrossfit.com
Arrowhead CrossFit
15525 N. 83rd Ave
Peoria, AZ 85382
http://arrowheadcrossfit.com

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