Three Words: Don't Be Lazy

I will not be like the cats. 

I'm trying this new thing where I shame myself out of my laziness. Okay, it's not really new, but just a recycled idea that I pull out when I think I'm lazy. And when my jeans are tight. 

Why is it that I suddenly feel outrageously fat? In reality, I'm only 4 lbs heavier than a few weeks ago, and the reason is simple: I've eaten too much and slacked on exercising. It's not brain surgery. I can figure it out. But just 4 lbs is enough to send me over the edge. 

Well, 4 lbs and a traffic ticket that was supposed to be a quick fix and turns out, not so much. I took too long searching for my proof of insurance and the cop had written the ticket when I produced my card. "Just show them your proof of insurance and you'll be good." He told me. By "them" I thought he meant the Sheriff's department, as in "this is a correctable violation." Instead he meant the court, which means I have to take yet another trip and deal with this for being 30 seconds too late with my card. Argh.

But using my new mantra, I will continue to get up early and exercise. I will eat and drink healthily to keep my current streak of two meals (yes, two meals IN A ROW, impressive, right?) going. I will write every day, as I have done. I will forgo the TV as a default and get my books read and written. I will actually cook meals instead of just throwing them together. 

I will stop taking the easy way out. I won't be lazy.

Let's see how long this lasts. . . .

What to do when you come home to three TV camera crews outside your apartment

The police let Chef get really close to the wreck. 

If you're me, you first wonder: what the hell are these people doing here? Then "I hope there wasn't a mass murder in my apartment complex." Then "I should just ask because I'm a PR person and journalists just LOVE when we get all inquisitive and shit."

Earlier in the day, there had been an accident on the street outside our apartment. And by "outside our apartment," I mean the 4 lane boulevard that is about 25 feet from our windows. It's a nice street, has steady but not heavy traffic, and is a straightaway. All of these reasons make it the perfect place for the customs shop at the end of the block to test out the godawful, loud and mostly illegal creations they put together. On a daily and sometime nightly basis, we would hear the startling sounds of loud, engines peeling out at about 100 mph. Sometimes accompanied by a pop.

On this occasion, the pop was not the usual nitrous tank reserve, but the car blowing a tire, then proceeding jump the middle median, take out several small trees, flip upside down and land on its roof from the furthest lane over from hence it began.

Luckily, the only person hurt was the a-hole that was driving the thing. Someone in the neighborhood spotted a guy form the customs shop coming out and removing the nitrous tank before the police showed up. The street was closed for about 5 hours.

I guess a slow Saturday in news plus the Fast and the Furious 6 tie-in were too much for our news stations to handle. They even did live shots from literally feet from my bedroom window, even though the action had been over for hours. (FYI the photos show the opposite side of the street. Our complex is bigger and looks a little more. . . .updated)

Here's the news story and some additional pics that Chef took:

The street racing car- photo by Chef

The guy who was driving survived, but was in bad shape. Photo by Chef

Ode to the Charity Walk

If you've ever been up at 4:30 on a weekend morning using car headlights to see in a damp field and wiping down dew-covered tables, then you've experienced the joy that is running a charity walk.

I too have experienced this joy in various stages of involvement: from working for a charity and being in charge of the event to working for the charity and only being in charge of a small portion of the event to be a hired hand working on a portion of the event. I honestly prefer whichever involvement lets me sleep in the latest.

I haven't worked for a non-profit for two and half years, but have the joy of working with one now. It's fun and after almost a decade with the American Heart Association, I'm pretty sure that I'll always be involved with one or multiple charities throughout my life, in some way or another. This time I was involved at a local walk for Ronald McDonald House Charities of Southern California. A different charity, but just as important in its work.

Here's my latest event in pictures:

I had to wait about an hour after getting to the location for there to even be this much light to take the picture.

The money shot: this is when everyone who worked on the event breathes a sigh of relief because 90 percent of the heavy lifting (literally and figuratively) is over. 

I've been to more than 50 walks in my day, but have only walked as a walker in  less than 10, and that's the Evansville  Komen Race for the Cure, as you might imagine. Here I am walking in spirit with my Porter Novelli work team.

This is the first time that I've ever seen miniature ponies (there were three) at a walk, but there are two words that can explain that: Orange County.

If you want to support my efforts, there's still time. Feel free to donate to this great cause HERE. 

I'm Still Alive....Just Busy

I'm still alive and kicking, but the last few weeks have been slammed with work. Las Vegas for a convention, three tweet-up events, and a charity walk simultaneously in four locations--that's just the last 10 days. I promise to get back at it, but in the mean time, enjoy this video Chef took of Khubla making a weird shriek when he was cornered.

True Love is. . .

True love is always a changing definition. It changes by what one of the two people in love values. Here is my latest definition of true love:

True love is waiting in line at a Time Warner Cable satellite office to get a new remote control because the remote in the bedroom where your wife watches TV doesn't control the volume so your wife has to get out of bed several times in the night and adjust the volume accordingly.

Guess who demonstrated this? My true love. Thanks, Chef.

By the way, when did cable TV offices become the new Bank or DMV when it comes to shitty lines and notorious service?

Can We Stop Being Girly and Just Be Women?

I read an interesting article last week on the rise of "girly" media, specifically "Hello Giggles." And it got me thinking, because this fact I know to be true: I've never been really girly.

It's not something I would consider a struggle, but something I've always noticed. My husband phrased it as I'm more of a "guy's girl." But even that makes me a cringe a little, because nowadays when I picture a "guy's girl," I picture a girl wearing pink-colored NFL gear while watching a game with her man because he's happy when his team wins. I know this is a stereotype, but I've only met a few girls who truly love sports like I do. And most of them are friends.

But the girly thing has become more blatant and in your face over the last couple of years. I blame the rise of Zooey Deschanel and Pinterest for bringing this to the forefront. Suddenly it's hip to be cute and doe-eyed and ultra-feminine. Professing love of a glittery vampire or a RomCom or nail art is what makes a woman into a girl. But do we really need to be girls again? Really?

I'm all for letting people be themselves, but are we doing ourselves justice as women if we are more overt of our differences just  to be seen as "cute"? I always felt this growing up. I may do my hair and make-up on a daily basis and I love shoes, but I don't go around telling people about my love of shoes just for shits and giggles. I do it on my blog or when someone asks--and by someone, I mean my friends or other women. The only man that I subject my love of shoes to is Chef and that's because he needed to know when he was marrying into.

I feel like as women we are taking feminism in the wrong direction. Instead of celebrating strong women, we hate them. This isn't all that new. But now we must all be cute and girly (and seemingly weak) to be women? Why can't women see ourselves outside of what is reflected back to us? I spent way too much of my youth feeling like loving sports and being smart and sarcastic wasn't ever going to lead me anywhere or at least not lead me anywhere with a man. I feel like this "girly" throwback now means that being smart, sarcastic and loving sports is again not a part of today's womanhood.

When is being strong and smart going to be celebrated and embraced? When will women be allowed to finally outgrow the pink sparkly unicorn way of our childhood? Being a woman is just as fun as being a girl. Even more so.

Sometimes it pays to be a geek....

Yesterday I watched my beloved Hoosiers, but the experience was a little bit different than normal. Not because the Hoosiers won their first outright Big 10 championship in 20 years (although that was awesome), but because I got a lesson on perseverance.

I was watching the game behind real time on my DVR, which is not something I love doing, but considering my west coast time zone I am forced to do a lot. In this case, I was doing it to watch the SNL with Justin Timberlake with Chef. Anyway, as I was watching the middle of the first half of the game, I knew it was starting the second half. Considering the Hoosiers were down by 11, I wanted a sneak peek as to whether I was going to be happy or upset at the turn of events.

They started to make it close and by the start of the second half, I was addicted to sneaking peeks at the score on my Yahoo! sports app. I should've known better. I was reloading the score furiously and when I still had about 10 minutes of game time to watch, I saw the final that Yahoo! sports app had posted:

Michigan 70, Indiana 66. "End of 2nd"

I was crushed. But I knew that I wanted to watch the end anyway and see what happened. So I kept watching the game and then with about 3 minutes left, the Hoosiers hit the 66 point mark. I figured "Well, if they can't score in the last 3 minutes of a game, no wonder they lost."

Then with about a minute left, Michigan hit a free throw (their made one of the game) and the score was 71-66. Hmm, I thought. That's weird.  Then the Hoosiers scored: 71-68. Now I was convinced that the Hoosiers were still going to lose, but there was a slight hope that the Internet was wrong. I mean, when was the last time that the Internet has been wrong?

Imagine my excitement when this happened:



I'm glad that I watched until the end.

Poor Man's Steve Buscemi

John Hawkes

This is a brief synopsis of a conversation Chef and I had this weekend. You are joining the conversation already in progress. . .

Me: She (Jennifer Lawrence) had already been nominated for an Oscar like two years ago.

Chef: For what?

Me: Some movie called Winter's Bone.

Chef: Never heard of it.

Me: It wasn't super popular. She was in it and that John Hawkes guy.

Chef: Who?

Me: John Hawkes. He's kind of the poor man's Steve Buscemi.

Chef: Steve Buscemi is the poor man's Steve Buscemi.

A Gross Post-- You've been warned

I was thinking about this yesterday and to be honest many times before but I've never expressed it. It probably doesn't need to be expressed, but frankly I don't care.

I'm currently in day two of an Internet cleanse. I'm sure it's total bullshit, but I'm sucked in. It is only supposed to help flush the system and shed bloat, not actual ponds. The fact that that is the only claim it makes actually makes me feel like it might be legit. You drink 60 oz of a water, dandelion root tea, cranberry juice and lemon juice mixture. Then you pee like crazy. And because I am already a water drinker AND a massive pee-er, it's making things interesting.

The dandelion root is a mild diuretic, so you drink this, it flushes water retention, and you shed some water weight. You still eat your normal diet, so there's no starving. Literally just flushing the system AND the toilet for the 20 times a day I'm peeing, but hey, at least I'm adding steps to my pedometer. I'm totally down for that because I was puffier than normal last week.This could all be psychosomatic, but  I did shed almost two pounds in 24 hours, which is not like me.

But that's not that gross. What this mild cleanse has me thinking about is a much larger, more in-depth cleanse. I want to swallow the liquid version of a pipe cleaner and clean my insides out. Has anyone else had this desire or I'm a just being weird? I want to try and get anything that's backed up in my colon out. Like those people who do those intense cleanses and then photograph their long, nasty fecal movements that look like snake skins with plasma attached to them.

I want to have photo-worthy bowel movements, and then have Chef had to talk sense into my so I don't post them to the blog because that would just be crazy.

Basically, I'd like to internally clean house and start over again. Who's with me?

I Cut My Own Bangs

This is a literal title of the blog and my life. I was sick of having an extra inch of fringe hanging in front of my eyes. I couldn't stand it, so I did something about it. I watched a Youtube tutorial, read a few beauty mag posts and then went snip, snip. And you know what? It didn't turn out so bad. They look fine and even, and best of all they're out of my eyes so I can see.

The problem is that my stylist has quit styling hair. Even bigger problem: she was a fucking hair magician with the color. She's the only one whose ever colored my hair red. And now while I'm wishing her luck as a paralegal, I'm dragging my heels in finding someone else to make magic on my head. (read that as dirty as you want to)

The other problem is that I don't treat my hair so great. I wait until I can't stand it, which is about two weeks past it looking good, and then I call a stylist and have them fit me in. Now that I'm without stylist, this is a bit harder. Plus I got my aesthetician to give me the name of someone who knows all the stylists in this beauty professionals collection that I go to, but the guy won't return my calls. So I'm up shit creek without a dye job. It's sad.

Until then, at least I can see.

Can We just Agree that Chris Brown is a Dirt Bag and Move On?

I know this picture isn't really Adele
yelling at Chris Brown, but I'll pretend
it is. 

There are many people who are famous and their fame baffles me. Here's a short version of a long list:

• All of the Real Housewives--yes, ALL of them
• Pamela Anderson
• All Kardashians
• Paris Hilton
• Nearly all reality TV stars

And also on the list is Chris Brown. The difference between him and the above is that Chris Brown actually has some talent. But where does it say that a modicum of talent can propel you to be above the law, decency or the threshold of asshole-ness? No where.

Aside from the beating of Rhiana, which she has clearly gotten over, there are the multiple run-ins with others that end in fisticuffs (which is an old ass word that I love to throw in). Some are reported and more public because they happen with other celebrities (Frank Ocean) and others just get a line in Brown's long list of offenses. 

The absolute point of no return for me, which honestly shouldn't have surprised me but somehow did, was when his community service was called into question because some of the documentation was sketchy. So sketchy that the police chief involved resigned.  Really? You can't do the community service you were ALLOWED to do because you DEALED down from a more serious offense?!? 

Can we all just band together, declare him a dirt bag and then refuse to listen to, buy, or support his music? I wish this above world peace because I honestly believe this has a shot in hell of happening. 

Three Days of Productivity Down....Infinity to Go

I don't know if its because I'm busy at work, or that I'm trying to be busy at home, but I've felt exceptionally productive since I've banned laziness from day. I've cut down on surfing the Internet unless I'm doing it for a certain reason. I'm returning more personal emails so that I have something to look forward to in my inbox other than Sole Society or Bauble bar sale emails. I feel good.

And as an unexpected side effect, I've actually not fallen asleep on the couch this week. I have been energized enough to go to bed between 11-11:30 instead of 10-10:30. I have not hit the snooze button ONCE (yes, I know it's only Wednesday, but small victories, okay?). Unfortunately, this has not had the desired effect of landing me to work much earlier because traffic (even with my minimal commute time) has been a bitch. Such is the case of commuting in LA--even if it is only 4 miles.

However, I have been waking up sore. And for a change it hasn't been because I slept funny. The bright side is that I've been sore because I've been working out at night again. The sad side is that I've only been working out for 12 minutes. Let me be clear: I do run/walk intervals for 30 minutes on the treadmill in the morning and I run stairs for at least 10 flights a day. But the toning/strength training is only 12 minutes. It only takes 12 minutes to make me sore.

All in all, I'm happily productive. Of course, the more you do, the more there is to do.

The Lazy Must End Someday, Might As Well Be Today

This pretty much sums up my attitude lately.

I realized this morning that I've been very lazy lately. I probably realized it a while back, but was completely unmotivated to do anything about it. Which really perpetuated my laziness.

Luckily, I'm not work lazy. When I'm there, I get shit done. But because I am productive at work, I use that as an excuse to be unproductive everywhere else. So I get home, run a few flights of stairs to meet my fitbit goal and then try to figure out what is the absolute least I can do to eat dinner. Oddly enough that has not meant fast food (that would require getting my car and leaving my apartment, both of which I'm too lazy to do) or cereal. Typically it means leftovers. Which is kind of a contradiction because leftovers imply that I was at one time in the not so distant past NOT too lazy to cook.

Another sign of my laziness, is my hitting of the snooze button. I never really do it. I don't typically believe that an extra 30 minutes or so of fitful sleep will make me any better off, but again, I've been too lazy to get up on the first try.

But today I decided to get off my lazy ass and start being productive outside of my day job. I did not, however, decide that until after I had hit the snooze button this morning. But nonetheless, the thought counts. I got home and did not watch a minute of TV until 8:30 when I sat down to dinner. Instead I not only ran my allotted stairs, but also did a toning routine. Then I made dinner, prepped lunch tomorrow, and roasted kale. As a side note on the kale, whoever says it tastes like chips clearly has never eaten chips.  I mean, it will do in a pinch for a quick hit of veggie vitamins, but roasted kale is not giving Lay's a run for its money.

In between all the kitchen maneuvers, I also did three loads of laundry, wrote on my book and am typing out this blog post. I plan on not hitting the snooze button ONCE tomorrow. And hopefully propelling this momentum for another day.

Except tomorrow instead of laundry, it's gonna be writing time. Today clean clothes, tomorrow clean soul.

Good Friends + Good Wine = Good Times

The crew at winery #3

I've been remiss in thanking Kristie for hosting me along with some Nashville friends, Alyssa and Shea a few weeks back. It was awesome. And she and her fiance were great hosts--like above and beyond.

The making of the chocolate abomination

I'm not going to recount the entire weekend in its full glory for a couple of reasons: 1) I can't remember it all. It was that good. 2) protecting the names of the innocent AND guilty. 3) It would take too long and make too many people jealous.

However, some of the highlights included:

• Visiting three wineries in Temecula and having chocolate wine for the first time. I also believe I ate my weight in Brie, as apparently that is the only cheese worth serving at all wineries. 
• Scarfing down a cheeseburger at 9 p.m. on Saturday night like it's 3 a.m. on a Saturday night because I'm getting old. Or maybe it's because we started wine tasting at like 2 p.m. Yeah, that's it. 
• A beautiful brunch on a rooftop at a hotel overlooking the ocean in Laguna Beach. You would swear places like this were too pretty to exist. 
• Watching perhaps the grossest chocolate bar ever being made. It included red hot Cheetos and crystallized ginger. I forget what else, but I never did find out what the final verdict was on the taste.
• Making even more memories with great friends who hopefully had a blast in California (and perhaps can be persuaded to move here).

The beautiful sunset in Santa Monica

Birthday Recap

Khubla looks at my chocolate wine.
It was perfectly paired with a
Krispy Kreme donut for my nightcap.

I should be doing a post about a great visit some friends from Nashville made to me and a friend from Laguna Beach, but instead I'd decided to leave that post for another time (it's late. it can't hurt to be later, right?) and do a birthday recap.

Yesterday I turned 34 years old. When I was younger, I thought that was old. And even on some days now, I feel it is. But on the by and by, I don't see myself as old. Mostly because people only think themselves old when they're really, really old. And I think that's appropriate.

I decided a few years back after a particularly rough birthday in the office that working on your birthday is balls. And now unless there's a very very good reason, I don't do it. Even if my birthday is on a Tuesday like this year. How often do you get a random Tuesday off with nothing else around it? Rarely. So I enjoyed it and pretended I was independently wealthy and didn't have to work.

First I slept in until I damn well wanted to and then got treated to delicious breakfast of Crossanwiches (yes, plural. It was my birthday, dammit) from my loving husband. Then I leisurely got ready and went for a mani-pedi. The place I went to treats you kind of like you're a car in the pits at the Daytona 500, so I had two people working on my talons. They were so talented that they had the massages timed so they were rubbing me down at the same time. It was heaven.

Roses from my awesome husband

Then I grabbed Chef and we went shopping. I got to go to Sephora (and thanks Jack for the gift card) which is annual tradition because I like to get my free gift, and some fun goodies. I got a lipstain I had been lusting after and the BEST smelling peony-scented lotion from Philosophy. Then Chef gave me his present. It was my favorite because I wanted it really badly and it's AWESOME, but I'm not telling what it is because too many people could read too much into it. Let's just say it is an technology gadget and leave it at that.

Then we got Krispy Kreme donuts (because donuts can be better than cake some times), and went to eat at my favorite sushi place. In between, I got to check the wonderful birthday wishes everyone left on my Facebook page. (Honestly sometimes I think that's the best part of Facebook).

To cap it off, I watched a screener of Silver Linings Playbook. It was good, but I probably would've liked it better had I seen it before all the hype.

All in all a great balance of my favorite things, my favorite people and relaxation.

And then I went back to work today :). Until next year!

Cutting my Cotton Ball Budget to Nearly Nothing!

Fingernails-mid removal

Do you find yourself spending oodles of your beauty budget on cotton balls?

Yeah, me neither. But for some reason there was a pin on Pinterest that promised to cut your cotton ball budget and it caught my attention. Less because I am fearful of using more than my fair share of cotton, and more because I would love any easier way to take off nail polish.

Because that was what the pin actually helps do. It shows a way to take off nail polish that uses less cotton AND less time. I was up for anything that could potentially peel off my dark nail polish without have to scrape and chip away.

The idea is simple: peel apart a cotton ball (I used a cotton pad and it worked fine), soak a little in nail polish remover, stick it to your nail for a few minutes, then peel the polish off.

These little piggies weren't quite as lucky.

I tried this on my toes AND my finger nails. I can absolutely say it works brilliantly on my fingers. I can get all my polish off using two cotton pads (used to use about 5 before) and only a few minutes. It did not work as well on my toes. I might just stick to my old method on that.

All in all, two polish-free thumb nails up!

Because I Know about Fake Significant Others

I feel compelled to write about Manti Te'o for several reasons: 1) it's just a bizarre case, 2) it's a case that kind of pisses me off, and 3) I know a thing or two about fake significant others.

I'll start in order. I have a hard time believing that this guy didn't know that his girlfriend was fake. She gets in a car accident AND gets leukemia, and he didn't visit her at all? She DIES and he didn't go to her funeral? What a shitty boyfriend. Not only that, even after Te'o said he knew the girl was a hoax, he still perpetuated the story a few more times.

Also, how come Te'o's father told the South Bend Tribune that his girlfriend had visited him in Hawaii and they had met at Stanford if they were only online bf/gf as his statement says. That means that his father either 1) lied to the media a while back or 2) was in on the thing and let his son lie to the world. Neither scenario would qualify someone as father of the year.

Next I get a little pissed off at Notre Dame. The athletic director, Jack Swarbrick, SO believes this ridiculously unbelievable story that they not only hold a press conference, but he CRIES during it. He shed tears over a FAKE woman. Not only that, they hired private investigators and sprung into action.

Yet a few years back a 19 year-old student who had accused a football player at Notre Dame of sexual assault and the athletic department did nothing at first. The girl committed suicide from the harassment she received for making the allegations and only AFTER she died did the university investigate the matter. The Notre Dame athletic director certainly didn't cry for the REAL WOMAN who died.

That pisses me off.

Lastly, I had a fake boyfriend. His name was Toby. I developed him before the advent of a lot of social media. He helped me have an easy out if I got unwanted attention from a guy. I even had a picture of me and my friend Amanda's then boyfriend (now husband) that I could flash as my "Toby." Toby was easy to maintain because I wasn't a nationally recognized football player, there was no Facebook, and checking a background of someone wasn't a few keystrokes away.

I guess what I don't understand is why the hoax was so perpetuated in the first place. The media now is reporting it all over and they could have been the ones to have nipped it in the bud. I know it's hard to want to question someone's hard luck, heartwarming story, but that's what the media is for. Doing a rudimentary Google search to see if there was a Stanford volleyball player who had died is pretty easy. The media is supposed to be skeptical of everything--that's what is supposed to make them our line of defense from BS stories like this.

And with that I say, good luck in the NFL, Manti. May you enjoy your time with the Bengals or Raiders.

The Joys of the Democratic Process

One of the fun parts of my job is the diverse things I get to do. Yesterday was one of those times....sort of. I have in the past and am once again working on public relations around politics (aka government affairs). The joy of this is an event like last night---the public hearing.

If you've ever been to a public hearing, you know these things are simultaneously boring as hell and highly entertaining. If you've never been to a public hearing, it's pretty much just like you see in Parks and Rec. Last night there was a table on stage with two chairs and two government officials there to listen. There was an audience in an auditorium and a microphone in the middle of it all. There are really two types of people that come to these things: 1) people representing a larger organization that have well-planned and thought out ideas to express. These are usually people that do these things for their job. 2) pissed off citizens.

Public hearings are kind of like live versions of comment sections online. Rarely do you have someone comment or review something online that they love. They are usually just itching to complain and show how smart (or smart ass) they are.

Last night's public hearing had to do with a city planning proposal and it pretty much followed this formula. Here are my favorite highlights of the night:

• The very first lady (who was pissed off) introduced the phrase "ho motel" into our vernacular. She was loudly concerned that the proposal did nothing to address the three ho motels in her neighborhood. 
• A woman wore a denim poncho made from several parts of various jeans all sewn together. Ponchos are a mystery to me in the first place because I don't see the point of them unless their plastic and used to protect from the rain. She sported hers over a hooded sweatshirt which just added to my confusion. I was also a little concerned because the jeans looked well worn and her head went through the area that used to be crotch. 
• I saw a hippie crossed with Mr. Garrison from South Park. He said "MMkay" a lot, had an earring and was advocate for more public space. He also had the most well-coiffed rat tail that I've ever seen. And I lived in the South for more than a decade. This thing was about 3 inches above his waist. I would've laughed if I wasn't so impressed with his tenacity for a long forgotten hairstyle.

If you have the chance, go to a city council meeting or some other public event where people can express themselves. At the very least find a cable access channel and log in some time or best of all watch several episodes of "Parks & Rec."

My Take on the Golden Globes

Here's the first shocker: I  thought Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were fabulous. Not so shocked? Yeah, that was pretty predictable of me. I would watch the two of them do nearly anything together. But I will complain that they weren't on stage together nearly enough and you can tell that some of their gags were stifled by the powers that be. However, they were funny and better than most of the lame hosts they get to do these things.

Awards shows are generally a real loser when it comes to hosting. The show itself is long, boring and by the end of the night the room is filled more with disappointment than with joy. Plus there are so many people in the room that "control" what happens in entertainment that the hosts are never allowed to go all out and be the entertainers that made them desirable to host the show in the first place. It's a lose-lose situation.

But unlike most of the shows, I actually watched this one start to finish. And by "start to finish," I mean that I DVRed it and then fast-forwarded through most of the acceptance speeches. I even whizzed through Jodie Foster's speech and deleted the show before I saw all the buzz that it was getting on twitter. But because I live in LA, the Golden Globes are shown twice. The first time live and then immediately after to run in prime time. I flipped back over and BAM! Jodie Foster was getting her award.

The whole thing was a little awkward and stream of conscious. If she had been any of the other recipients, that would make sense, but she knew she was receiving this award. Then she "came out" as a lesbian, (but she had unofficially come out before so this was not AS shocking?) and then she retired, but in interviews after immediately said she was still going to act and direct and produce. I think Jodie Foster is brilliant. But being brilliant doesn't make someone a great communicator. I've read a few essays she's written (including the infamous one defending Kristen Stewart) and they've all been like her speech was last night-- a little all over the place. The raw materials was good, but the construction was kind of a mess. Also, I realize she's not a reality show as she's infamously private, but when was the last time you saw a news story on Jodie Foster? She's done a good job at being out of the spotlight, so either others should take note or she should give some classes.

Anyway, the show last night was pretty good. Glad that Argo was recognized as it was my favorite movie last year. I definitely recommend it if you haven't seen it yet. Anne Hathaway still needs some weight and hair because all I saw of her onstage was bones, lips and teeth. I thought Lena Dunham's dress was great for her body and the occasion, but rarely does Zac Posen go wrong. Of course, it probably helped that he used to BABYSIT Lena Dunham, so he was probably well familiar with her proportions. I wish more women would wear some color instead of all the nude and pastel dresses.

And I hope Tina and Amy come back again for next year. Or that NBC just gives them an hour to do whatever they want with. I'd be up for either.

There's No Crying in Baseball...or the Boardroom

I hate crying at work. I mean I absolutely loathe it. I actually don't really like crying in front of people in general. From time to time I've even hid my tears while watching a movie so that Chef won't see what a sap I am.

And it's not like I hate crying in general. I actually find it very cathartic. There are times that I just want to get a good cry out so I can feel better about something. And I give myself permission to do so.

I realize that sounds really cold. That I give myself permission to cry, but that's what I don't really like about crying. The timing. I don't really like to be surprised by my emotions. I don't like to suddenly be overcome. It's just not who I am. So if it happens, I like for it to happen private.

Which goes back to the whole thing about crying at work. I can only think of a handful of instances where I've cried at work ABOUT work. And typically it was because I was stressed about work and something sent me over the edge where I landed in Teartown. For example. I remember a huge breakdown in the back parking lot of the AHA when I had a shitty day dealing with a coworker and then my car finally died and refused to go forward. It would only go in reverse. Tears are pouring and I'm having a nervous breakdown, but my friend (and boss) and another supervisor got out of their car in heels on their way to an event to help push my car back into a parking spot. I was losing it at work, but my work friends came through (I would like to think they were also alarmed that I was crying because again--rarely happens at work).

Most of my work tears have been personal things that have happened to me that I have carried into the office. Luckily, I've been able to scoot around and find some privacy to make that happen.

I bring up crying not because I've spent today in tears (although yesterday morning dealing with a plumbing problem before work was a whole different matter), but because I read this article about crying at work. The article spells out that it's not all bad; that crying at work can actually be good for a group. However, my cynical eyes read it and ended up thinking "This person is really advocating using properly placed tears to sway emotional advantage and camaraderie in the work place. Really? Really?".

Because that's the thing with tears, no matter how much you may want to, you can't really control them. It just seems weird to try.