If you’ve stuck around thus far, you’ve probably noticed the weekly Instagram roundups that have dominated estherfox.com for the last…month and a half.

I have been in a blogging rut.

I normally don’t let that much time go in between regular content, but I have just been feeling so blah lately and I haven’t felt much like writing anything substantial. Between school/homework, client work, life and just things in general, my energy has been zero. Or, I’ve been focusing my time on other frivolities, such as a rekindled love affair with nail polish.

Regardless of all that, I am ready to get back into the game. I’m not sure what will come, content-wise, but I promise it won’t be just Instagram roundups.

Thanks for sticking with me folks. I appreciate it.

This post, apologies, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

While many people in the blogosphere will be silencing themselves today, due to the Blogging Day of Silence for the Newtown, CT massacre, I will not be joining them.

Sure, this may make me sound insensitive.

But you know what? You can call me insensitive, but another great blogger, Tara from A Life Changing Journey, put it very simply:

But will the proverbial you also have a day of blogging silence for those that are suffering today? Tomorrow? Next week? We are compelled to stop and remember because the act in and of itself was so heinous the media deemed it newsworthy. But will you stop and remember all the other heinous acts that are occurring at the very moment you are reading this blog? At the very moment you are writing your next blog? Will you stop and remember the people who will never make it into the news because their senseless death wasn’t sensational enough to even bother with? As those candles being lit for the vigils around the country in memory of what happened this weekend go out, will you light another candle for the homeless person who is dying alone in the streets? Will you light one in memory of the small child that died in the arms of a mother whose only wish every morning is that there will be another tomorrow…another hour…another minute…another second. Will you light one for those that die in the line of any kind of duty but their names are never mentioned? Will you light one for the aging woman with Alzheimer’s who’s family is surrounding her silently wishing for her (their) suffering to end.

Not blogging today may help some people in the blogging world cope with the events and actions that occurred in Newtown. But I also know that a lot of people *will* be blogging because it helps them get past it, and not think about it as much, even while the rest of the country is constantly rehashing it and rehashing it.

Sometimes you just need to back away from the news, take a deep breath, and come back to reality, no matter how much it hurts or what’s going on in the world.

This post, I Won’t Be Silenced, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

I do apologize for the major problems this is causing, and I hope that it shall be fixed in the next couple days.

This post, Forgive the Dust, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

That is, until tonight, I happened upon a retweet from Mikey Ilagan of a tweet made by Allison Berger on Twitter, about a review she made on Blue Belly BBQ’s Yelp page earlier this evening.

Wanting to delve deeper into this, I took a look at the attached screen shot of what exactly Blue Belly BBQ tweeted, and was flabbergasted.

Conveniently enough, they pulled the tweet shortly after posting it, but obviously not before it hit the Twitterverse.

You would think that, seeing as this restaurant is in its “infancy” (in that they’ve only been open a few weeks), they would want to keep up a good rapport with their customer base, rather than choosing to get butthurt over a 3-star review on Yelp.

If it’s one thing I’ve learned in the few years I’ve been on Twitter, as well as the research I’ve done on brand management, you NEVER want to misrepresent your brand as a butthurt whiny twat on your business Twitter account. I mean, haven’t people learned? And then having the gall (although it got deleted) to talk shit about their customers on said Twitter page? AND THEN talk shit about them to other patrons?

I get the fact that Blue Belly just wants to vent, and that’s all fine and good. There are places to vent about customers anonymously that don’t affect your business, one of those being Not Always Right . But when you’re a brand new restaurant trying to gain traction in a big city like Philadelphia, you don’t want to trash talk your customers on your Twitter page, especially when your Twitter account is an extension of your brand, especially when you advertise the link to your Twitter account right on your homepage.

And here we have local brewing company patron, joining in on the trash talk commentary. Basically saying that Allison had no right to leave the review based on one experience. Well, I don’t know about all of you, but if I go to a place once and have a less-than-stellar experience, then hell yeah I’m going to leave a bad review (or write a review here or send it to Philly Phoodie) and not go back.

Defending a business owner’s right to vent? Like I said above, that’s perfectly fine to do WHEN YOU’RE NOT ON A PUBLIC FORUM USING A TWITTER ACCOUNT WITH YOUR BUSINESS NAME ON IT TO BUILD YOUR BRAND.

Edit as of Aug 20, 2012 – @MellodyBrewing wrote me an email this morning asking me to clarify that he is actually not a business, but someone that left the corporate world to follow a love of beer. 

As it turns out, another negative review was left on their Yelp page a a few days ago, and Blue Belly decided to trash talk them as well. So it didn’t actually start with Allison’s review. It started with Jane T’s review.

Now, I know that I don’t have any pull here in Philly when it comes to local restaurants. But I would like to think that the small group of us on Twitter could spread something like this like wildfire. I know that I will never eat at Blue Belly BBQ because of this. I won’t even give them a chance, for fear that I be ridiculed on Twitter should I dislike the food and make a bad review about it. I guess I still find myself confused and flabbergasted at the fact that this business would even do something like this. I mean, really?

Please pass this around. I doubt they’ll apologize, but hey, who knows? Oh and, before anyone gets on here and defends Blue Belly, stop and think for a moment. If you were a freshly started business trying to build your brand, would you do something like this? I don’t think so. There’s venting, and there’s shooting yourself in the foot.

[hr]

As of 5:40PM EST on August 20, 2012, Eugene Giuffi, the owner of Blue Belly BBQ and Cochon, both admitted and apologized to Allison, in a public tweet on their timeline.

But of course this was not before he joined a thread on his business Facebook page. Although, that was after he deleted a half dozen or so comments.

Honestly though, regardless of the fact that Eugene made a public apology on twitter, he still made the tweet in the first place! And as many people tend to forget, Google remembers everything.

blue belly bbq butthurt bad customer service twitter

This post, how to lose your customer base, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

—

I was a “late bloomer” when it came to getting my driver’s license. I remember Ex # 1 attempting to teach me how to drive his ’88 Merkur stick-shift when I was 16, but I discovered just how much I lack the coordination required to drive a stick shift (why hello thar Mr. Clutch! Am I supposed to step on you now? *vehicle stalls*). So I didn’t get my license until we moved to Phoenix in 2004, after I turned 18. Basically, my parents decided that I needed to drive, so they got me driving lessons, and in August of 2004, I was licensed. My first car was an ’85 Mercury Cougar. When we bought it, it had 35,000 original miles on it, and I loved it (and believe me, I missed it when it was gone, but that’s another story for another day).

But I digress.

Having my own vehicle and a license to drive it was liberating for me. I was able to get places, which is typically the reason for having such things, yes? Of course. Well, you don’t really realize just how much you miss those things until you don’t have them anymore.

Before I left Phoenix for Indiana to live with Mr. Fox, I had given up the piece of crap Grand Marquis that Ex #2 talked me into buying (he was a cab driver, and he had wanted it to become a cab). So by the time Mr. Fox and I moved in together, we had no vehicle, and relied on the shitty public transportation system that is IndyGo in Indianapolis, in addition to the kindness of our landlord for grocery shopping outings. Needless to say, this became old FAST. Sometime later in 2008, we had the opportunity to “purchase” a janky ’85 Ford Ranger. It got us from A to B, and since Mr. Fox wasn’t licensed at the time, I was the only one driving it. Once that went to shit, we had the niceness of my parents who took us grocery shopping every couple weeks.

In September 2009, we purchased a used Chrysler Town and Country, which was wonderful. And it helped us out a lot when we moved to the apartment. Unfortunately, the transmission decided to go in March 2011, and we were without a vehicle again. Thankfully, we were still on a bus route, so it wasn’t *too* bad. One of our friends was gracious enough to gift us a 2000 Nissan Xterra (they were going to trade it in, but decided we were more deserving of it) in May 2011, and that worked well until it decided to start crapping out on us, so off to Carmax it went. During a brief existential crisis after the death of Mr. Fox’s father, we decided to take the proceeds of the Xterra and some other money we had and lay it down on a seemingly cute and harmless red 1999 VW Beetle. And thanks to a swindling car dealer and car repair shop, the Bug didn’t last very long. Note to self: do not drive over tall manhole covers in a car that has a 4″ clearance. You *will* tear your transmission pan.

I do have to thank the Town and Country though, because if it weren’t for it’s death, we wouldn’t have had the opportunity to rent the 2011 Kia Forte that we ultimately fell in love with. I also have to thank the Bug for dying as well, because if it hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been able to buy our 2010 Kia Forte.

Well, I went on a tangent there, didn’t I? I had a point here somewhere…

Oh yes.

When Mr. Fox and I moved to Philly, I had only driven in Phoenix, Las Vegas and Indianapolis. In retrospect, those areas are not terribly urban. So when it came to driving in Philly, I was afraid. I mean, so afraid that I left all the driving to the husband. He lived there his whole life (minus 8 years), and he knew the area more than I. I had no problems driving in the suburbs, but our neighborhood is very congested and full of one-way streets, and don’t even get me started on the downtown area. So I could take Mr. Fox to work and drive around Horsham, Plymouth Meeting and the surrounding areas, but I was so afraid to drive in our own neighborhood, that I just *didn’t*. Also, our driveway behind the house is at a 45 degree angle, with a brick wall behind it. So I have to maneuver my way in and out of the driveway without hitting the wall or sliding into our garage door.

On our recent trip back to Indiana to visit my parents, I was happy to drive the entire time we were there. It felt wonderful to drive long distances again, and even seemingly insignificant trips to the store and gas station made me happy. Little did I know that, as soon as we would return back to Philly, Mr. Fox told me that I would be driving. I was like, say what?

Well hey, what do you know? I survived. I didn’t break the car, and I didn’t back into the brick wall, and I didn’t slide into the garage door. The only things I haven’t done yet is drive on Roosevelt Blvd, which is an experience in and of itself. I am weary of driving on the Blvd because of all the accidents that occur there. Eventually I will get there. Going to take baby steps though, because I don’t need to get us killed, you know?

So you’re probably wondering why this post is titled the way it is? Well, it’s simple. I had to get over my initial fears to be able to drive in our neighborhood, with all it’s obstacles, and it kinda feels like the first time I learned to drive.

I’ll get there eventually.

driving philadelphia urban philly cars neighborhood kia forte

This post, feels like the first time, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Click the photo for the article.

They blame one man – Robert Coyle, a man they call a “dream killer,” a “slumlord millionaire.”

The word “slumlord” is what stuck out to me the most, in this instance.

Once upon a time, Mr. Fox and I were living in Indy with what we thought was our “American Dream”.

This “American Dream” consisted of a run-down house in a not-so-nice part of Indianapolis. It had a crack in the main sewer line, faulty wiring, was far from up to code, and it was over 100 years old. But it was our home. There was mold, and it was affecting my health.

The woman that sold it to us was a slumlord, in most senses of the word. She sold it to us under a conditional land contract “as-is” and advised us against getting a home inspection, telling us that it wouldn’t matter if we got one because she wouldn’t do any work to it before we bought it. So after almost two years, we broke the contract and found an apartment. And then she took us to court for money that she knew we didn’t have.

When I think about the hell that the people referenced in this article are going through, I think about our own struggle to find our “American Dream”. Granted, we weren’t on our way to being homeless because of the mistakes of our formidable slumlord, but we suffered monetary loss at her hands. Our stories don’t really compare, but the sentiment still exists. I just hope that the people involved are able to hold on to some semblance of what they had previously called home, instead of being put out on the streets because of the actions of some money-grubbing selfish asshole with nothing else better to do with his time other than ruin lives.

philly buzz slumlord millionaire homeless foreclosure american dream

This post, slumlord millionaire, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

She needs to sort out her priorities.

~ Ron Weasley, from a scene in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (or Philosopher’s Stone, depending on what side of the pond you’re on)

I generally don’t like to rant about other people on my little blog here (*insert sarcastic laugh*), but sometimes I just witness something that makes me weep and wonder what’s going on. However, when it’s a friend, it’s harder to do without hurting their feelings. Since I am by no means a confrontational person when it comes to my friends (sometimes I am, but it depends on the situation), I have to take a slightly different approach.

I have great respect for people who know where they’re going and how they’re going to get there, when it comes to their lives. Lord knows it’s taken me a while to get to where I am, with all of the obstacles that were thrown in my path. Generally speaking, things are amazing in my life right now. I have a wonderful husband who loves me despite my flaws and quirks (and I love him all the same as well). I have two wonderful supportive parents who, even though we may have our differences at times, stand behind my choices. I have 4 cats that might as well be my kids. I have amazing friends that I consider to be family. I have a growing business in an industry that I love with wonderful clients who appreciate the hard work I do for them. I just got accepted into Philadelphia University’s Interactive Design and Media program for the spring semester (provided that the Mayans were incorrect in their indirect predictions and we don’t have a zombie apocalypse).

My acceptance letter from PhilaU.

Like I said, generally, I have a good life. I have a plan. However, when I see someone who does not have a plan for their life, or they had a plan and faltered somewhere, I have to wonder what the hell happened. How could someone get so far off track that they can’t seem to catch a break enough to get back on? Or, how could they let themselves fall into such a deep rut?

Is it bad that I often find myself wondering that? I realize that it might sound as though I am gloating about having it good when others have it pretty bad. I am not trying to make it sound like this, honestly. I think this is my way of seeing if I can’t conjure up a way to help the people I know who are having these problems. I hate to see them having such a hard time with what life throws at them, but at the same time, it’s their own fault, and there’s likely nothing I can do to help. It’s kind of like a train wreck, and you can’t look away. You can only stare in horror from behind a piece of glass, hoping things will work out in the end.

Other times, I just want to go up to these people and give them a good shake while yelling, “YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR CHOICES, STOP COMPLAINING AND BLAMING OTHERS (AND THINGS) FOR YOUR DOWNFALLS AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!”

One of these days, I will become the confrontational friend that everyone hates because I give them the kick in the ass to actually do something about their lives.

Soon.

And on an unrelated (but sort of related since it’s Harry Potter), here’s a license plate to make your day.

harry potter ron weasley hermione sorting priorities life things

This post, in the great words of Mr. Ronald Weasley…, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

It was a really eye-opening documentary, and it made me realize that I take life for granted a lot.

Starting in summer 2010, when many hoped an era of recovery would begin, and continuing through the holiday season six months later, HARD TIMES: LOST ON LONG ISLAND spotlights the challenges facing highly skilled, well-educated Long Islanders who lost their jobs. Public relations professional Anne Strauss notes, “Being unemployed for two years is not just a financial loss. It’s an emotional loss. It’s a loss of friendships. People disappear. You can’t socialize. It changes every facet of your life.”

There are millions of people in our country that have it much worse off than we do. It’s a hard thing to think about really. I couldn’t imagine life if Mr. Fox and I weren’t in the percentage of people that are not struggling through daily life. Well, I mean, we have our struggles, but we are fortunate to not have a mortgage payment or a car payment to worry about, which makes things easier. Seeing others struggling to stay afloat with things like 6-month past due mortgages and foreclosures and indefinite unemployment makes me sad that there isn’t much we can do, as a country.

I think that, if you have access to HBO, that you watch this documentary. It’ll really make you think.

hbo documentary long island unemployment foreclosure struggle

This post, take life for granted, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Anyway, I digress.

I was watching this movie, and at the end, Steve’s character cuts off his son’s 8th grade graduation speech to talk about soul mates, and how he met his when he was 15 (his soon to be ex-wife, though they made it seem like reconciliation was possible by the end of the movie). He said something like, “I’ve loved her every minute of every day for the last 25 years. I even loved her when I hated her.”

So you can probably guess that by the end of the movie, I was crying, well, because I cry at the end of most happy ending chick flicks. But I don’t think it was for the usual reasons. I used to cry at the end of chick flicks because I wanted to experience the endings. Isn’t that the cheesiest thing ever? Like, do you remember the Lizzie McGuire Movie? I wanted to get up on stage and sing my heart out at the end in front of loads of people and then kiss Gordo. How about What a Girl Wants? I wanted to find my prince charming in London.

Ah well. Let’s snap back to reality here.

Soul mates. I thought I met mine when I was 15. He came in the form of a tall, slightly chubby blonde dude from New Zealand (who also grew up in Sydney, AU, which is pretty damn cool). We were together for ages, but by the time I got out of high school, we were going in opposite directions. Thinking we could make it work, we were stupid and got married. I was 19, and he was 23. Five months later, it was splitsville for us. Yeah, we had some rough times, but we have a friendly acquaintance-like thing going on these days.

Shortly after that, I thought I met my soul mate in a bowling alley. He came in the form of a tall dark-haired quiet dude with some major family baggage (I seem to attract those). He’s what I like to call “The Whirlwind”, mainly because we got together, got married a few months later, and then separated a year later. Somewhere during that time, I got to know one of his friends on a more personal level, and hell, I thought maybe he was my soulmate too, but he never wanted to ruin our friendship.

Finally, my soul mate came in the form of a tall, sarcastic smart ass from Philadelphia, who lives and breathes (not literally) cheesesteaks and technology. Kind of a crazy combination eh? Well, regardless of that, we did things right. We started dating, then we moved in together a few months later. Then a year later he proposed, and then a couple months later, we got married. And almost three years later, we are still married. And I still love him as much as the day he called me up drunk from a karaoke bar to serenade me with “The Way You Look Tonight.”

I’ve loved him every minute of every day, even when I hate him. Not that that’s an often occurrence, because it’s not. We have our fleeting moments of typical relationship crap (but then again, who doesn’t?), and we get over it. Because that’s what soul mates do. We fight and we get over it.

Shortly after we started dating.

I look at my parents, who are coming up on their 40th wedding anniversary, and I often wonder how they made it that far. And then when I figure it out, I realize how much Mr. Fox and I are like my parents. If soul mates truly exist, then my parents are the epitome of soul mates.

They met on a cruise ship, and it was all downhill (in the best possible way) from there.

my parents cutting their wedding cake

Years and years later, Mr. Fox and I met on Myspace (whoa, Myspace?!), and it was all downhill from there.

Love is crazy and stupid. But that’s what makes it love.

crazy stupid love hate steve carell movie soul mate

This post, love to hate to love, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Please remind me, the next time I get the bright idea to go downstairs right after waking up without giving myself a chance to wake up a bit first, that I should just give myself a chance to wake up first.

Ow.

hardwood floors falling ouch ass bruised

This post, slipped up, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.