Relentlessly Awesome tag:www.wetv.com,2008-04-18:/blogs/relentlessly-awesome//81 2009-02-20T17:06:33Z Dixie has spent her life exhaustively studying, pursuing, and celebrating what's fun, fierce and fabulous about being female. Movable Type Publishing Platform 4.02 eBay is the Boss of Me tag:www.wetv.com,2008:/blogs/relentlessly-awesome//81.11920 2008-10-16T16:48:30Z 2009-02-20T17:06:33Z RelentlesslyAwesomeBlogger /images/author/50553_avatar.jpg
dixie.152.jpg
Hi, I'm Dixie and I'm an eBayaholic. (Hi Dixie!) 

By  Dixie Feldman

No, that's not true. I'm not addicted so much as co-dependent. No, not so much a co-dependent as...a slave. That's it, I am a big fat slave to ebay. It's like having a dysfunctional relationship with a boyfriend; sometimes your pulse races and your heart beats faster and it's thrilling, and sometimes you just feel like a sorry-ass victim. But just like the Skinnerian rat that I am, the intermittent good keeps me pressing the lever even more, hooked as I am on trying to re-create those sporadic highs.

]]> I'm not necessarily an every day bidder, but I am an every day searcher. That's the beauty of eBay: every whim, every nutty combination of search terms ("reindeer glitter skirt") can deliver results. How many things in life can deliver in seconds what you uniquely, bizarrely crave? (With the exception of a box of Count Chocula, nothing springs to mind.) Ebay can find those turquoise suede fringe boots you've wanted, it can find turquoise suede fringe boots you didn't know you wanted, and it can get you that Get Christie Love lunch box you lost when you were 11. Like dominoes, one auction has a way of leading you to another, and another, and before you know it it's 4 in the morning and you've spent a king's ransom on 1940's cake toppers.

The "bay" allows you to discover, excavate -- and get trapped in -- a bottomless tar pit of cool stuff, weird stuff, and new whims. It's there to see to it that you manifest every little fleeting, nutty, materialist pang. Here is a sample of actual search terms I have tried (and in some cases, many times): "Chanel bird belt"; "squirrel dress large"; "carnival chalkware ukulele"; not to mention..."Christie Love lunch." 

And, thanks to eBay no fleeting, nutty notion need ever die. The site's "Save This Search" option ensures that the whim from 3 months ago will be resurrected when that "taxidermied two-headed duckling" comes up for auction. 

(And the answer to your question is yes, and his/their name is Robert.)

Ultimately, ebay is a Bitch Goddess: she giveth, and she taketh (money) away.  Sure, the hundreds of hours I've spent on eBay is time I could have spent learning a language, exercising, volunteering, or showering. And yes, most of my auction acquisitions are complete wastes of money. 

But, those occasional two-headed ducklings, they keep me coming back for more.

And more.
]]> Parlez-Vous Guy? tag:www.wetv.com,2008:/blogs/relentlessly-awesome//81.10230 2008-09-25T18:35:52Z 2009-02-20T17:07:31Z A man-to-English dictionary would be nice. By Dixie FeldmanHave you seen those dog translation devices -- the ones that purport to decipher your dog's every woof and whimper? Now, I love dogs (and I mean, that crazy, icky kind of... RelentlesslyAwesomeBlogger /images/author/50553_avatar.jpg dictionary.190.jpgA man-to-English dictionary would be nice.

By Dixie Feldman

Have you seen those dog translation devices -- the ones that purport to decipher your dog's every woof and whimper? Now, I love dogs (and I mean, that crazy, icky kind of love that makes people roll their eyes) but I'm not sure science has got its priorities straight. Why are lab-coated technicians feverishly working on decoding Fido's every utterance when millions of men walk the Earth making no sense whatsoever?]]> really saying when they talk (when they do talk, every now and then)? Not one to sit around complaining, I have taken their bulls**t by the horns and come up with my own Guy Talk Translator. It may not be scientifically sound, but I can tell you it is based on many, MANY years of research. It's still in the R & D phase, but I'll share with you.  

He Says: It's not you, it's me.
Translation: It's you. Boy is it ever YOU.

He Says: I'm too immature for you.
Translation: Hey Mrs. Robinson, were you fooled by the Trojan Horse?

He Says: I'm too old for you.
Translation: I've found someone else even younger.

He Says:  Is Mary coming?
Translation: I fantasize about having sex with all your friends, but most especially Mary.

He Says:  I'll be back in ten minutes.
Translation: I'll be back sometime in the next three hours.

He Says:  Why do you always assume I did it?
Translation:  I am feigning indignance until I can come up with an alibi.

He Says:  You look pretty.
Translation: Let's have sex.

He Says:  That's a nice dress.
Translation: Let's have sex.

He Says: You smell nice.
Translation: Let's have sex. 

He says: What's wrong?
Translation: What ridiculous self-inflicted misery has you not smiling at me? Please give me a two-word answer that does not involve me in any way.

Ultimately, you don't really need a dudeslation device. The great thing about guys (well, one of the great things) is that their actions speak volumes. A guy can merely tell you that you mean more to him than anything, but when he misses the big game to go to your niece's school play with you, that says it.

]]> Does This Blog Make My Butt Look Big? tag:www.wetv.com,2008:/blogs/relentlessly-awesome//81.10229 2008-09-25T18:16:36Z 2009-02-20T17:08:13Z Making life better, fun-ner, fabulous-er. By Dixie FeldmanHowdy. My name's Dixie, and every week I'm going to be blogging here about making Life better, fun-ner, fabulous-er. (Technically my name isn't really Dixie; I was born a Sarah. But everyone calls... Making life better, fun-ner, fabulous-er.

By Dixie Feldman

Howdy. My name's Dixie, and every week I'm going to be blogging here about making Life better, fun-ner, fabulous-er.

(Technically my name isn't really Dixie; I was born a Sarah. But everyone calls me Dixie, and since you can't swing a cat these days without hitting someone named Sarah, I'm going with it. Besides, it has a nice "Want some whipped cream on that slice of pie, honey?" ring to it.) 

]]> The Lost Art of Being a Dame.  I grew up suckling at TV's glass teat, drinking in all these great black-and-white movies starring Barbara Stanwyck, Claudette Colbert, Rosalind Russell, and Bette You-Know-Who. I learned a lot about life, love and style from the masters, and I want to share the wisdom and wit with other women.   Essentially, the book celebrates those wise and witty "dames" of the 30's and 40's, and suggests women today might be well-served to cultivate their own dame-itude.  (More about this in future blogs. MUCH more.)

Anyway, back to living foxier and fabulous-er:

I recognize our lives are already pretty groovy just the way they are. Still, sometimes a girl finds herself sitting in front of the TV watching Four Weddings and a Funeral for the bazillionth time and pondering the meaning of Life, the roads not taken, the caloric toll in an entire box of Count Chocula.

Like you, I wrestle with the big questions:

•    Who am I?
•    What really matters in life?
•    Do these shoes make me look like a ho?
•    How can I make the most of my time here on Earth?

I've wrestled with these and come up with the following:

•    Anyone I want to be.
•    Joy.
•    Well, yes.

Yeah, but that whole "time on Earth thing," that one's tricky. So I'm writing this blog to start a conversation. I have found conversations work a lot better when I'm not the only one mouthing off, so please, let me hear from you!

Yes, you.

Til next time -- I got a box of vampire-themed cereal to finish.

]]>