Hi all you Mo Bros and Mo Sistas. I’d like to say I am proud of all of you Flysters for getting involved with the campaign this year. I’ve gotten a flood of messages, post links, tweets, retweets, contest ideas, and
mustache rides glorious mustache photos this week. Keep it up and keep it growin’!
I’ve been looking forward to posting this update all week as well. Why, you ask? To get you acquainted with our latest Bloggers for Movember supporters, Dollar Shave Club. Before you get to the juicy details, watch this piece of viral video gold straight from the company itself, so you can understand how badass these people are.
Chances are, you are one of the 12 million something people who have viewed this commercial before. I know I had seen it before (and adored it) when a representative of DSC contacted me about a collaborative effort for Movember. That’s right, DSC wants to help the Bloggers for Movember team blow up our donations page. In a good way.
For every BFM supporter who registers with the Dollar Shave Club, the company will donate $10 to our official Movember page. You don’t have to be registered as a team member on the BFM page, nor do you have to donate directly to the team to take advantage of this opportunity to help. Registration with the Dollar Shave Club using a special code is your contribution! It’s kind of like donating one dollar that magically grows into a big, fat ten. Actually, it’s exactly like that. Plus, you won’t have to worry about forgetting your razors at the store come the beginning of December. Just don’t start lathering yet!
Instructions for registering with Dollar Shave Club for Bloggers for Movember:
1. Go to www.dollarshaveclub.com
2. Click register, select your razors, and enter your information
3. Enter the pro-MO code MOVEMBER081 before you check out and complete your order
4. Walk around knowing how philanthropic you are.
I totally ordered a months worth of razors myself. Not for me, I don’t grow hair except for my beautiful, natural red mane. Duh. I need them to shave Jack’s back. So there you have it. Yet another way (see other contests below) to support Bloggers for Movember. You even get something outstanding and useful in return, so I don’t want to hear any excuses. Mo on!
More contests next week from yours truly and others!
Happy Movember Monday to you all! Movember is now in full swing. I’ve been seeing some rad mustache progress being shared already and a handful of posts dedicated to the month of men’s health awareness. Bloggers are on top of their game this year, and I am pumped. You should be too.
Today’s post comes with more updates about how to get involved and a few teasers of what we have to look forward to for the remainder of the BFM campaign. Hold on to your whiskers, we are about to go turbo MOde.
1. In case you didn’t already see the BFM team/network updates on Facebook and Twitter, here is how you can join our team (and network for those outside of the US).
To join the BFM team directly, simply register on www.movember.com, and join the team page. Aside from donations, pictures and blog post links can all be shared on the team page as well, so please take advantage of this year’s sexy format!
Those outside of the US can join us through the network page. The instructions are as follows:
- Register and log in to your Mo Space
- Click on Networks on the left hand side
- Search the network name Bloggers for Movember 2013
- Click join this network
You can also download the Movember app to keep up with the campaign while you are on the MOve.
2. MOAR contests are happening this year. Last year, I did a banner design contest with the help of Tim Oh of Get Second Lunch, and it turned out to be fun and outstanding and incredible and spiffy, but it also turned me on to vlogging. I can’t believe it has been a year already. SO, get ready for a new, fun, outstanding, incredible, spiffy contest right here on 25toFly which will end in none other than a special vlog on BeccaTube announcing the winners. Camera tricks and all.
We will also have a Twitter auction, several giveaways, and a well-known company dedicating money to this year’s BFM campaign. Details are coming later this week and next week, so don’t you dare grab for your razor yet.
3. Here are some badges and banners you can use to bling out your blog and/or social media sites showing that you are supporting BFM and making the world that much better. You’re a hero.
Lastly, if you are interested in dedicating a blog post to the cause, please send links directly to me at Cord.Rebecca@gmail.com so I can promote them! Also remember, likes and shares count just as much! Bloggers for Movember MOvement on Facebook and Twitter.
- Bloggers for Movember 2013 Begins! (25tofly.com)
- Movember (littlemslost.wordpress.com)
- Movember Mobile App Is the Perfect ‘Stache Companion (mashable.com)
It kind of felt like learning to walk again when I left. I felt exhilarated by my new-found separation from such a shaping relationship and simultaneously a little lost. The good kind of lost. The kind of lost that makes you feel like you are teaching yourself something new. Sure, I had pangs of homesickness, because he was what I considered home for as long as I could remember. But missing familiarity eventually turned into embracing change.
I met new people. I dabbled in new relationships. At first, it felt right. Like making an A on a test makes you feel right. Which felt good. New relationships were accomplishments in moving on, but not much more than that. After all, GPAs don’t matter much in the scheme of life. Nonetheless, the new relationships were fun and easy. I could feign attachment without skipping a beat of my own agenda. I almost fooled myself into thinking I was anything but detached. I liked it that way.
I strategically and forcefully changed all of my radio stations; a subconscious attempt at moving on. It was working splendidly until DJ Heavy Metal decided to throw in a little Tim McGraw for shits and giggles. My new guy quickly reached out at the exact moment as me… only he was reaching out to turn the station, and I was reaching out to turn up the volume. “I never liked country,” he said.
As I looked around, it was as if everything suspended for a brief moment, and in that moment, nothing looked right. Something shattered in me, and I immediately thought of him.
After that, I began to shell up even more. I would steam up the bathroom to mimic the humidity we used to bask in. I would pour a little too much on the rocks. I started cooking those savory meals again, and found myself seeking solace in my headphones, blasting nothing but country. I tried to transfer all of the things I loved about him, into my new relationships.
I’ll never forget the moment we reunited. The radio must have been on our side, because the perfect songs trickled in as we sat on the tailgate together in the damp air. I didn’t say anything, I just breathed him in. I never believed in the saying, “you never know what you have until its gone,” just as I never liked Country. But sometimes you just have to admit you were wrong. And that’s why I went back.
I missed you, Louisiana.
This two part post was inspired by A New Orleans Love Story by Joey Albanese about New Orleans.
The one that got away. Do we all experience it? That one ex that you didn’t know completed you until you left?
The longest relationship I have ever had took years to build and only two to demolish. All of the memories, the places, and the laughs. Our relationship was fickle and tumultuous, but extremely passionate. We would bitch endlessly over the thermostat one minute and then bask in the balmy humidity the next. We loved to savor our food together and never shamed each other for drinking a little too much. Occasionally, I would grow tired of lazy ways and become jealous of friends that were driven away, but then the radio would come on. Everything was butter. I never liked Country. The songs never sounded good with anyone else.
You see he wasn’t like anyone. He was one of a kind. And not in the cliché kind of way that people might describe a cheap pendant on QVC. He owned the phrase one of a kind, and he knew it despite the fact that I sometimes didn’t.
He loved the water, and even looked great covered in moss. When I was in his presence I felt I belonged to something special. We were our own little secret club. It’s weird though, because we never really had a honeymoon phase. As long as I could remember we had always just been together. There was no one before him.
Regardless, I knew ultimately something would happen to our smooth cruising. We eventually began to take each other for granted. This would be the beginning of the end. The more possessive and predictable he became, the more indifferent and unimpressed I was. I convinced myself that his simple ways were holding me back.
Eventually, I started refusing to go out on the water. The special meals we cooked tasted bland, as if my taste buds had become tired of the repetition. We didn’t drink together anymore, but I drank alone. I had built up so much resentment, though he really hadn’t done anything wrong. Then my eyes began to wander. I would leave town for weeks and see other people. I didn’t even try to hide it. Funny thing is, he must have known but didn’t seem to care. Maybe he secretly knew I was too far gone. He was intuitive like that. And one day, sure enough, I was gone. For good.
Blogger Interactive is next weekend! I can’t wait to meet everyone who is coming. You can keep up with all the festivities by following us on Twitter, Facebook, and now Instagram (@bloggerinteractive)! Be sure to use the hashtag #BI2013 for posting!
There were three things I really enjoyed about television growing up. One, for reasons I cannot comprehend, was marching along to Jane Fonda work out tapes in my ballet leotard in the middle of the living room (minus the hip thrusting exercises… I was shy). Another was playing my brother’s Nintendo, even though all I ever accomplished was getting stuck in walls. The third, more obvious thing I enjoyed about television, was a good ass movie. Not to be confused with an ass movie.
There was my obsession with Ghost and all things Patrick Swayze. There was my Ren & Stimpy phase,. Although not technically a movie, I did particularly enjoy some episode where Ren ate a bar of soap in outer space. No, I didn’t try to eat soap. Not more than once at least. Somewhere in there was Look Who’s Talking and sequels and a new obsession with all things John Travolta, but today I want to talk about one movie in particular. Back to The Future.
I think I was was more giddy for McFly than his hornball mother. Yikes. I don’t know if it is the soundtrack, the idea of flying sports cars and hover boards, or the fact that I also had a girl crush on Loraine that made me love this movie so much, but love it I did. Marty McFly was spunky, his dad was a mess but equally adorable, and his mother rocked that peach color prom dress harder than any dress has been rocked in history. Plus, I am a closet oldies fan. As soon as they paired the climax of the movie with the tune of Earth Angel, they weren’t just tugging at my heart strings, they were putting them in a high power wood chipper.
As some of you already know, I am involved with freelance work involving video editing on top of my personal YouTube shenanigans. No, I am not about to announce my ambitions to become a Hollywood film director. What I am about to announce, however, is a project for which I have been burning my flux capacitor at both ends. That’s a lot of plutonium, I assure you. Amy, of The Bumble Files put me in contact with an inventor and friend of hers at the beginning of this year. We’ll call him Doc for sake of theme. Doc had an invention, and he wanted my help to spread word of it via a Kickstarter campaign. What was the invention you ask?
A real life hoverboard.
At this stage, it is a miniature scale hover board toy that has potential to evolve with more research and development. I’d like to ask that you check out the campaign if you have a free moment. Not only is the technology and science behind this thing as exciting as George McFly upper-cutting Biff’s sleazy grin, but I put a lot of work into the video editing and promotion of this thing. I’m like a proud mom. Just not one who tongue wrestles her offspring. Backing the project isn’t the only way to support the NeoLev either, you can share the links and Like/Follow us on Facebook and Twitter if you’d like to help. Thanks Flysters!
Follow Neolev on Facebook & Twitter
P.S. While we are on the topics of Kickstarter projects, please check out my friend David Harding and TJ Lubrano’s project Elevenses, a card game for 2-4 players in which respectable ladies strive to serve the most scrumptious morning teas possible. They haven’t launched yet, but you can follow them on Facebook to get in on the action!
- Great Scott! Watch This Supercut of Marty McFly Screaming (mashable.com)
- Marty McFly Screaming Supercut (geektyrant.com)
- Movie Legends Revealed: Marty McFly Nearly Time-Traveled in a Refrigerator (spinoff.comicbookresources.com)
Today, I had somewhere to be. Today, I planned to get up early, shower, put on a nice pair of dress pants and a top that says “I’m important” and print out a crisp resume. Today, I went in search of part-time work.
I woke up promptly to my alarm. I only snoozed three times, which had me impressed with me already. Unfortunately, the rest went south quickly. Kind of like it did for that reptilian intruder Jack gobbled down with delight right in front of my face the other day. Cats, what are you going to do right? At least I didn’t have to touch it.
I rolled out of bed to head for the shower. I reached for my bedside lamp.
Click. Click, click. Shit, no spare light bulbs. Oh well.
As I sauntered into the bathroom ready to get my fresh and clean on, a similar instance occurred.
Click. Click, click. Shit, these light bulbs too? That’s a bizarre set of coincidental light bulb failures.
Why I didn’t immediately realize that the power was mysteriously out is beyond me. Brain putty. Regardless, I gathered three candles from the kitchen, lit them, and arranged them on the toilet tank before turning on the water. I’ll tell you this, showers by candlelight at 9 am can go one of two ways, and weirdly in my case, both ways at once. One outcome ends in you feeling very romantically appreciated by yourself. The other ends with you yanking back the shower curtain every thirty seconds assured that you will be inches away from the face of an intruder wearing an evil bunny mask with a crossbow aimed for your eyeball. I happened to experience both simultaneously, which was… confusing, terrifying and sexy all at once.
After surviving my emotional ping-pong match, I dried off and opened the window in my room for some natural light. Then, I reached for my blow dryer, plugged it in, and set forth confidently to blow dry my hair. Apparently, I needed to research how electricity works, so I towel dried my hair and fired up the lap top. Brain putty.
What is wrong with my internet? Is everything going to crap out on me today?
These were my legitimate thoughts as I stomped down the stairs to inspect the router. My brain putty sloshed against my skull as I discovered that routers too require an outlet. Who knew? Apparently I used to know.
I continued on attempting to groom myself in my current free prison, but you wouldn’t know it by the looks of my hair. Just as I was feeling smug for dressing myself using the necessities of a cave woman, I realized I was forgetting one thing. I needed to print my resume. Funny how The Office marathon that I engaged in the night before had failed to remind me I needed paper. But anyhow, I marched right up to my printer to find that there were just a few slivers of tree left in the tray. Score. Just as I plugged in the USB and searched for the print option, there it was again. Brain putty.
Moral: Outlets require electricity. If your power is out, so are your outlets. All of them. They won’t work. Not for your hair dryer, not for your router, and certainly not for your printer either. You’re welcome.
There is something I have to accept about my current self. It is something that, surprisingly, I don’t know if I enjoy or hate. Or hate that I enjoy. Or even enjoy hating. I am a modern nomad.
For the past five months I have had no real home. Not physically anyway. At first, the rush of stripping off lease shackles and wiping my name off of the grid gave me a high. I felt like I had beat some sort of system. The one that says you have to follow a certain progression. The house you grew up in – college dorm – apartment with one too many room mates- apartment with no room mates – rent house – mortgage – death.
I wrote about how fantastic it felt to let go of old crap, the cleansing of de-cluttering, and the excitement of the unknown. I have traveled to so many new places. I lived in a new place. I stayed in so many Holiday Inn Expresses that I am now opening a shop on Ebay selling tiny lotion bottles that are easily mistaken for conditioner.
It’s true. All of that it is exciting. But exciting doesn’t always necessarily associate with words like fun, easy, or stress free. In fact, it has been written that acute stress is what actually brings about excitement. It isn’t always clear, open roads with your favorite song on the radio, and a large Icee in the cup holder. Sometimes, it is bumper to bumper traffic, nothing but radio interference, and a watered down Sprite when you asked for a Coke.
It turns out that being or feeling stuck and confined is often equally as terrifying as being locked out or feeling afloat. I’ve been a creature of habit. I’ve been a hermit, and now I have been a nomad. I have no idea what I will try out next, but I will be something. Sometimes I just don’t know what I want, and I’ve accepted that that probably means I will continue to change forever. And you know what? I am inexplicable okay with that. Actually, I love that about me.
In honor of my nomadic life, check out my second installment of hotel room ramblings: Hotel Room Perks
Winners of my contest for Blogger Interactive will be e-mailed this month, hang tight! I haven’t forgotten!
For ten years now, or so it seems, I have had an unfinished, untitled post in the dusty cupboard of my dashboard. Actually, it was titled, no title, which WordPress automatically assigns to all of those posts you begin to write knowing that you have no intention of finishing but that you begin to write anyway to make yourself feel like you gave it a shot.
The only text it contained read:
This could only mean “1” of “1” things.
In my desperation, I attempted to write a list post. I know what I must have been thinking, “I can surely rattle off quickly, raise a few chuckles, and get my groove back”. Yet, apparently I went into the scheme unarmed, save for the numerals that would keep the words in queue. Well, “1” numeral at least. Today, I finish this list once and for all so that the uncapitalized no title will stop making my brain vibrate with discomfort.
Things That Come In “1’s”
1. 40 oz. beers in paper bags
2. The gummy vitamins that mutated into 1 whole gummy vitamin after I left them in my car in the middle of Summer
3. Kickboxing class
4. Cream cheese packets at Starbucks
5. Becca Cord
Things That Never Come In “1’s:
1. People who play scratch off tickets at the cash register like it’s the casino
4. Overly enthusiastic, borderline creepy smiles at Starbucks
5. 5 for $25 panty deals at Victoria’s Secret
Whew! I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have conquered this post. Finally! I can move forward. I’ve been dying to write about so many things, yet I couldn’t stop staring at no title and knowing that there was a list I needed to purge from my brain. I hope we can all get back to normal around here now.
I’d like to get back in the loop a bit, especially with Blogger Interactive right around the corner, and in hopes that it will shake up my creative juices again now that I have a bit of time freed up. If you comment, send me a link to something you have written in the past week, month, whatever. Something important or something you wrote just for fun. Laughs are encouraged. Thanks Flysters.