I was approached by a journalist from the Milwaukee Journal Tuesday regarding my submission to Common Pitch Milwaukee. This is the article she wrote wherein my quote is completely out of context and much of what I said was left out.

This post exists to set the context right.

As some of you may know, I was very excited to read about Common Pitch Milwaukee. As soon as I read on their site: “We’re on the hunt for eight promising startups working hard to redefine business in America. The best candidates will represent products or services that improve on (or completely reinvent) an existing American industry, helping to make it more sustainable, more profitable, more community oriented, more ethical – and maybe even more fun.” I knew I had to do it.

The cafe fits all of that. While the thought of getting on a stage scared the crap out of me, it’s for the dream. So, I went for it. Initially the due date was listed as the 18th. Then, all of a sudden, it got switched to the 13th. The application consisted of two small questions- 1. regarding what social impact our concept has 2. what environmental impact and then a mandatory video. I had clips of people talking about what the cafe would mean to them now or what it would have meant to them growing up. They were going to be at the end of me describing what the cafe was. With the switch in date, I had to just link the videos in separately in the “anything else you want us to know?” section and go with a video of me explaining the cafe. Here is the script I memorized for it:

“Hi, I’m Natali. Some people know me as UberDork Girlie and this is my pitch about UberDork Cafe. There will not be pie charts or a soundtrack or fancy graphics. Just a story. You see, once upon a time there was a single mom that struggled finding a place where her and her daughters could hang out. Looking for things to do during a Wisconsin winter turned depressing. Having crayons and chicken fingers doesn’t automatically make a place kid-friendly. Very few places offered classes and activities for kids and their parents to bond and those that did were outrageously expensive. So, she started thinking. What started out as creating a place for her and her daughters to hang out at ended up being the idea of a home for an entire community.

From the application, the video pitch was made out to be the main part.

Guess not. In fact, they would admit after they posted who made it through, that they never even bothered to watch the video pitches. That they had no intentions of doing so until after they had the “short list”, meaning the 8 picked.

THAT is where I became “very confused and disillusioned.”

Why would you ask for them and then not watch them? How are you going to pick from the answers of those simple questions?

I wanted to figure out what I had done wrong. What I could do differently next time. So, I went to look at the chosen 8.

First on the list- brighter12 An “online companion for working a 12 step process.” I have seen and heard of other resources for 12 steppers. I checked out the entire site to get a feel for what would make them different. Then I clicked on “our team” and there, plain as can be, under “Our Business Partners” – Spreenkler, Innovation in Milwaukee and Manifesto.

Who is presenting Common Pitch Milwaukee? Spreenkler and Innovation in Milwaukee.


Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t have thought “WTF?!?” too?

Absolutely nothing against the Rahms, at all. I applaud what they are doing. I am all for making a difficult journey easier. It did, however, answer my questions of “How is this different? Innovative? Revolutionary?”

The fact that they would pick their business honestly broke my heart a bit. These are groups that claim to exist to bring in, nurture and support people who want to open businesses that change Milwaukee for the better. Groups I was looking forward to working with in the future. Groups that involve people I had respected. Groups that didn’t even bother to watch the videos people made for their pitch. Groups that just picked their own.

That’s how it feels and it is certainly how it looks. No matter who picked the 8, (which I still have no clue, the rejection letter was from Art Milwaukee? They aren’t even on the Common Pitch Milwaukee site?) the moment that a business partner came up, something should have been said.

Then there is the fact that only 3 out of the 8 are from Milwaukee. I understand both sides of this coin. One is “Why have it here if it’s national?” One is “It gives Milwaukee more exposure.” I’m down the middle. Hell, one company is from Chile?? That certainly doesn’t fit in with “eight promising startups working hard to redefine business in America” and it’s concept is far from unique as well. But, I’m sure there is some sort of reason that it would be picked over all the entries they got. Right? Bottom line- there was a better way to achieve both.

I LOVE Milwaukee. I am all for anything that helps bring in new talent, that showcases the best we have to offer. I am far from some “MilTownHater.” (Seriously is that even a real phrase?) And I certainly did not set out to rock any sort of boat or piss anyone off.

You know what though? I know I’m not alone in this. I know there are many others that are mad as HELL about this and all that lies underneath. And let me tell you, this is all just the tip of the iceberg. There is some disturbingly dark stuff underneath all of this that just keeps going and going. Things I never wanted to know and would rather that I didn’t. But, somethings you can’t un-see or un-know. And all those people out there that are upset about this, that are feeling confused and disillusioned, they had great ideas too. Ideas that would help make Milwaukee even more awesome. But, where are they to turn now? It’s not just about not having the opportunity to pitch at this event. It’s about the whole week and the organizations involved and the feeling that this one event manages to put out there.

At the very least, you can say that this was handled REALLY poorly.

And if that pisses people off, than so be it. Ms. Gallagher already put my name out there connected to this mess, I’m gonna own up to my thoughts on it. Thoughts that may not be popular. Thoughts that have already upset people that matter far more than I do in this city.

But, just like this city that I love, they are mine.

I wish nothing but the best for all of those pitching tonight. And to the organizations that are attached to this mess. Hopefully they will find their way back to their mission statements someday. The first cup of coffee for them at the cafe is on me.

Update: “‘Our event is designed to bring attention to entrepreneurs, to celebrate entrepreneurialism and to involve the community in bringing support to people that desperately need it,’ said Carmel Hagen, Common’s chief marketing officer.”

Whether anyone wants to come forward and say it or not, this one event has done A LOT of harm to the very community this week was to be about. No matter what the groups involved and their friends will say.

Allow me to help you wipe it off.

I’m pretty sure you’ve heard, Amy Winehouse died yesterday at the age of 27. Now, I will be the first to admit that it wasn’t a huge shock. What was though was the level of disrespect that I witnessed surrounding it. It broke my heart and made me sick.

I’m the last person to have anything resembling celebrity worship in me. (Okay, I totally squee’d when I met Wil Wheaton, but common, it’s Wil Wheaton.) I went on a HUGE rant when I woke up the morning after the earthquakes in Haiti that affected the lives of nearly 3 million people and Lady GaGa was the top trending item on Twitter. Why? Because she was exhausted. Eat a sammich! I tell you what though, if she had died (so very much not wishing that upon her or anyone else for that matter), I would have understood why that would be everywhere.

No matter what your opinion of her, you can not deny the talent she had. She was brave and groundbreaking. She had an insanely powerful voice that was belted from a fragile, haggard looking young woman. And she had such soul. Lyrics don’t get written like hers unless you’ve been there. Songs sung from the gut like that have a trail of pain behind them. Pain that is relived every time you sing it. Sing them all back to back and it’s no wonder she had issues. Some called her a tortured soul, others a train wreck. I’d always just wanted to give her a hug and hoped she’d figure it all out.

But, she didn’t. At a mere 27 years old, she has left this world. While the reports are still out, we’re all expecting cause of death is alcohol and/or drug related. It doesn’t mean she deserved it though. It doesn’t mean that it’s okay to say horrible things.

SHE WAS A HUMAN BEING.

I saw someone ask when the news first broke if it was wrong that they secretly kind of hoped the rumors were true. ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. Others made snide comments about Amy Winehouse’s death and how now we won’t have to be burdened by watching more about what happened in Norway. (Yes, I know they were being snarky.) Really? Do you seriously believe that Amy woke up Saturday morning and said “Fuck the Norwegians, I’m gonna one up them everywhere”?!!? Joke after joke after sick joke. Bitching upon bitching at having to see Amy Winehouse “shit everywhere.”

Everyone that dies is a loss to someone. Who are we to judge that it’s otherwise?

Here’s a thought- turn off your TV, step away from your computer and take a moment to call some one you love and tell them so. Make sure they know you really mean it. No matter if we lead the life of a saint, or that of an addict, none of us are guaranteed a specific amount of time on this earth. Use it well.

I choose to use mine to see the good and worth in people. To spend time reminding the people in my life they are important to me and genuinely so in their own unique way. To try to do my best to be a good person and a decent mother.

I am by no means a saint either. I am highly flawed and a continual work in progress.

But I can look myself in the mirror.

Approximately 13 minutes into third period, Mr. C’s accelerated chemistry class knew I was wearing red and black plaid bikini underwear. Yup. Good times. I was proudly perched on my lab stool eagerly ready to learn when he began demonstrating the lesson. As soon as the smell hit me… thunk. That was the day I found out I was allergic to ammonia. And that my face is capable of turning the exact shade of red in that damn plaid underwear. It took until fifth period for news of my underwear sighting to properly reach the whole school. It took until winter before I would wear a short skirt again. With tights. THICK ONES.

Even a nerdy science girl gets that panty peekage as grand as that doesn’t happen every day. Laughter I expected. Laughter from those I thought were friends I did not. And I’m not talking in that laughing with you way cuz hello at that age there is a certain acceptable grieving period one must go through on such an epic incident of embarrassment before one can laugh at one’s self. Two periods didn’t quite cut that. Rumors blindsided me even more. You see, despite the red face, restricted airway and eyes swollen and watering for hours after, I had staged it you know. I was basically just an attention-seeking whore. Two terms that couldn’t be further from the truth. And you didn’t even really need to know me to know that just wasn’t who I was. People are odd creatures. They remind me of those lil Russian stacking dolls. You never know what you’re going to get when you lift the face off the top one. Sometimes all the ones inside are exactly the same, other times they are drastically different. You never truly know what the other faces will look like. Until it’s too late.

It’s Spring Cleaning time for me. I’m definitely not one of those people that takes great joy in cleaning. Don’t try to eat off my floor, I wouldn’t advise it. And yeah, still no ammonia based cleaners for me. This year, I’ve done things differently. I’ve decided to start Spring Cleaning my LIFE before my home. Ok, for a fleeting moment there was a small part of me that thought it would be a great diversionary tactic to avoid the tedious scrubbing of my physical surroundings. My gut and my heart knew it would actually be much more difficult. Truthfully though, Life had already begun to show me the necessity for it over the past two weeks and for once I wasn’t too stubborn to listen.

I started with myself and a simple question- am I happy? Then tackled the unpleasantries- who am I? Where am I going? How do I propose I am going to get there? What makes me happy?

Honestly, I was pretty proud of how I was working through all of it so quickly and comfortably. That should have been my first red flag. Then Life, that twisted lil skamp, started flipping the heads off the Russian dolls in my life. Two dolls in I knew I needed to switch gears and pull some off myself. Or gut check and make my best educated guess at what truly lay beneath. Which sucked. Hard. But I did it. I purged what I determined to be the false, the negative, the energy suckers, the constantly need ego strokingers. I thought I had gotten them all. The fact that I thought that and I worked through it rather comfortably as well should have been the sign the freakin’ apocalypse was coming. And not the fun zombie kind either.

For about a day I felt I had emerged from my Spring Cleaning confident, focused, surrounded by positive, loving friends. Yay me!

Then someone brought a jug of ammonia to my party. Thunk. A couple of conversations with a couple of people and my whole process was going to need to start all over again, face red, head spinning, eyes watering, self doubting, lil Russian doll heads popping off all over.

I would have rather just lifted my damn skirt and shown everyone my underwear. Again. After Spring Re-Cleaning, I’ve decided this time the underwear wouldn’t be plaid bikini. For starters we’re looking at boy shorts instead because this ass needs to be contained. They would be black and in red letters across my ghetto booty it would read I KNOW.

I know who I am.

I know that I trust until given a reason not to and some people may use that to their advantage.

I know that I love those I care about unconditionally without honestly wanting anything in return.

I know I am a genuine and kind hearted person.

I know I am flawed, but I am REAL.

I know when you look at all the other faces of mine behind the one you see-

I know who I am.

I know where I am going.

I know what makes me happy.

I know who really knows me and really loves me.

I know I am still allergic to ammonia.

And now I know I am allergic to mismatched Russian stacking dolls.