It never ceases to amaze me just how adaptable we humans are on a daily basis. We go from freezing cold temperatures to boiling hot apartments, from getting off another one of “those conversations” with our mother’s right back to closing a million dollar deal. From sleeping in our warm toasty beds, to the blaring sound of the alarm clock, alerting us to another day of God knows what. Throughout all our trials and tribulations, we supposedly have an invisible force called Karma that guides our way and balances out the good with the bad, the yin and the yang, to make this roller coaster ride we call life somehow even out, if we hang on long enough. I haven’t gotten it all figured out quite yet, but it seems that lately, everything I do wrong seems to somehow come back to bite me in the ass, but for some reason when I do something right, it just means I did something right. No giant lollipop or pot of gold to congratulate me at the end of a good deed, no gold star for tipping the cab driver an extra buck just because I felt like it, no putting my very own first published article on the fridge door to be admired by my family. Am I supposed to just be content with a quiet sense of accomplishment that I “done good” and that’s it? Where was Karma when I helped that old lady across the icy street the other day, or watched my neighbor’s cat at the nineth hour while she went away sailing for the weekend? It always seems that Karma is out to lunch when I do something good, but hovers over me with an eagle’s eye when God forbid I should screw up. Lately, I think I might deserve a little something more than just your average self congratulatory pat on the back. My hope is that one day I’ll get a really BIG reward for all the good I’ve done over the last few years, like a free all expenses paid vacation to the Carribean, or a winning lottery ticket, or maybe a chance encounter with Knox Jolie -Pitt. It’ll be great, I know, the moment of moments when I’ll know for sure that all those good deeds will have paid off and I’ll be singing the great praises of Karma’s connection with all things miraculous. So until that day comes I’ll keep doing what I’m doing everyday. I’ll be nice to my mother, face the arctic winter blast and get out of bed every morning hoping that all my good deeds, not to mention my patience and humility, will eventually payoff and my BIG day will finally arrive. So if we ever meet on the beaches of St. Barths and I’m getting off my private plane and holding the world’s cutest baby, you’ll know that I’m not just a lucky nanny, I didn’t actually marry Brad Pitt, you’ll know that maybe, just maybe, I did a whole lot of good in the world.
January 14, 2009
Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word
In my ever exhausting attempt to figure myself out over the years, I have come to realize that there are a few words in my vocabulary that need a little looking at, as I believe that I may be abusing one of them and it is starting to spin out of control. It’s time to come out of denial and admit it… I am a “Sorryholic.” After years of torturing myself and my loved ones with this useless, mind-numbing little word, I now formally admit that I have a problem and I’m willing to take the necessary steps to rid myself of this evil condition. I understand I just use this word to mask my own inner pain, and now it is time to face reality, stop living this lie and start being honest about my true feelings. I recently decided to do a test and see how many times in one day I used the word “sorry,” sometimes without even realizing it, and examine its potentially negative impact on those around me. One day I counted fifteen, FIFTEEN times I said I was sorry and most of the time I didn’t even need to do it… it just came out of me like a bad habit. So why? WHY? do I say “I’m sorry” all the time. Why do I feel the need to cover up what I am really wanting to say (“You are in MY way you crummy bastard!”) with something that just seems to put a band-aid over the situation, and simply let’s me avoid confrontation. I look to my past and see that the “Sorryholic” gene does seem to run in my family and with all the stress and pressure of living in a big city, it is surely easier to just say your sorry than actually deal with the situation at hand. It’s pure escapism, I know, and it’s time to put a stop to it. I will miss being able to “sorry” my way out of a situation, but I know it’s time to face facts and realize it is a slippery slope between saying “I’m sorry” too much to being a downright “sorry” addict, not to mention it does nothing for my self-esteem. It will be a difficult climb I know, but I gotta quit. I will have to take it one day at a time, but just admitting to myself and others that I have this problem really does help. So thank you for listening and now that I’m done battling my inner demons, it’s time to relax… wanna meet me for a drink?
January 7, 2009
Back in the Driver’s Seat
I don’t know about all of you, but I have developed a sort of Love /Hate relationship with the woman-made media machine that has become OPRAH. Much like her weight, my opinion of her goes up and down…”She’s helping the world!” but wait, “She’s an egomaniac!” But because it is a New Year, I am going to give her the benefit of the doubt that maybe she has a few things figured out, and I’m even going to use her infamous little catchphrase and actually admit to all my readers that yes, I’ve had an “Aha moment!” That moment occurred on New Years Eve of this year as I was tearing up the back woods of the Adironack Mountains on a very “manly man” high-powered 800 lb snowmobile. Actually, the moment occurred when I decided that instead of riding “safely” and “comfortably” behind my boyfriend on HIS snowmobile, that I would drive this crazy machine by MYSELF. Now, this might not sound like a big deal to some, but for a Gal who considers mercury poisoning to be stepping outside when the thermometer dips below 50 degrees, this was no small endeavor. It wasn’t until I got behind my OWN wheel and literally took matter into my own hands that I realized how much I hide behind other people, situations, and ideas and let them do most of the work while I ride safely in back giving up the control over my life that I used to once have. Now there are those (no mother-in-law’s names will be mentioned here) who have the profound ability to drive from the backseat, barking orders and directions from a place where they really can’t see much at all, but are convinced that they know best and should therefore tell everyone in their immediate presence what should be done. These people in my opinion “Suck!” and should be muzzled… but I digress. Most of us seem to deal with our lives in varying degrees of “hiding behind-ness” and it is this barrier between myself and the world that I intend to shed this year. Whether it is a spouse, a boss, a parent, a bad habit, or just a bunch of excuses, there are many things that keep us from truly living our “best lives” (yes, I know, another pathetic Oprah rip off) and if we become aware of these obstacles and choose to step around them I think we will all be a lot better off. Once we get back in the driver’s seat and really take on life with a clear view (our own) the road ahead can be beautiful and the ride exhilarating. And as for our weight-challenged friend Oprah,well, let’s just hope she gets out from whatever it is she’s hiding “behind” (no pun intended.)
December 19, 2008
Naughty…the new Nice
Every year, as we all run about doing our business of Holiday shopping and stressing, I think about Santa Claus sitting in his overstuffed Pottery Barn armchair up there in the North Pole trying to figure out who was Naughty and who was Nice this past year. As a rule my name, which will never be revealed to protect my own ass, usually appears somewhere in the Top Ten of Santa’s list of “Nice Girls” (who says we have to finish last) and it is this fact that has comforted and reassured me all these years that I won’t be overlooked during Christmastime. But as I get a little bit older, I’m beginning to realize that “being nice” doesn’t always get me what I want the other 364 days a year. Sure, it might mean that a gift card to Best Buy or Starbucks will come my way during the Holidays, but want about the other 11 months…what does “being nice” really get me? As I look back at all the good I’ve done over the last year, I begin to realize that all that good came with a price tag to myself, and caused me not only a host of inconveniences, but a ton of annoyances and a shitload of headaches. Whether I was asked to sit next to a friend’s 85 year old grandmother at dinner who doesn’t speak English and asked to entertain her with stories of New York City, or fully rearranged my life and neglected my own family and home to watch a friends aloof cat with bladder control issues for ten days, I decidedly have “been nice” to everyone, but not without some very specific detriments to my own happiness. Growing up in the Midwest where they inject “be nice byproducts” into your baby formula, I was always under the assumption that in order to be liked you have to be Nice. Now, I’m beginning to question whether being Nice is all its cracked up to be. If we say “Yes” when someone asks us for a favor when we really mean “Shit, are you serious?” isn’t that just a big fat lie? And according to Santa’s ridiculously high (but quite impeccable) list of standards, lying is downright Naughty. So, I’m thinking lets just cut the bullshit and say “No” and even “Hell, no!” if you feel like it, because saying “Yes” to every ridiculous request from friends and neighbors not only makes our lives exceedingly difficult, it forces us to blatantly lie to another human being, which to me is way more Naughty than Nice. So if being Naughty to others and saying “No” is going to save me twelve visits to a mailbox on the other side of town, one less cat scratch from an unruly feline, or 4 hours of boredom and insurmountable translation issues, than I’m all for being Naughty, because being Naughty to others = being Nice to me. So the next time someone asks you to do something you really don’t want to do, consider saying “No” to them and “Yes” to you. After all, why do you think Santa has all those little elves helping him out and Mrs. Claus slaving away in the kitchen all day. Do you really think he’d watch that freakshow pee stained cat of yours?
December 6, 2008
The Guest List
‘Tis the Holiday Season and as the social scene kicks into full gear, one hopes to be invited to many, many festive parties hosted by their very glamorous, well-heeled friends. Now, although many of us were raised in decent households with parents who taught us to be polite and the importance of good manners, I have found that many guests feel they are above the laws of social graces and it is to those readers that I am speaking to now. As we all sit down to write out our guest list of influential friends we will be inviting to our soirees this year, I am sitting down to write the Ultimate List for Guests on how to best behave at these all important events to ensure that you will be included again next year. Here we go…
1. Never show up empty handed, but do your best not to bring flowers as this forces the hostess to have to track down a suitable vase, cut open the tacky plastic wrapping and create a stunning arrangement in less than 10 minutes…next to impossible.
2. If there are young children present, always comment on how adorable they are, even if they are butt ugly and stepping all over your new Manolos.
3. If attending a private party in someone’s New York apartment never, I mean NEVER do any or all of the following. a) Comment on the size of the apartment (discussing square footage is not a good icebreaker.) b) Ask where the other closets are…there are probably only two as the third has been turned into another bedroom. c) Wonder where all the noise is coming from. If it’s not the neighbor’s toilet flushing it is just a small aircraft hovering overhead.
4. Do your best to mingle with the crowd and introduce yourself to other guests. At this point your host is probably three sheets to the wind and can’t remember her colleague’s husband’s boyfriend’s name.
5. If you are the host, there is one rule for you too. PLEASE do not give us guests the “grand tour” of your house. Unless there’s a martini bar in every room, we could care less.
6. DO NOT overstay your welcome. Unless you are best friends with the host, do not be the last one sitting on her couch crying over your recent break-up or the unsuccessful boob job you had last summer, it’s just not cute.
7. Consider for a moment that dancing wildly on the bar (although served you well at Dick’s Sports Bar last weekend) may not be appropriate at a client’s cocktail party, no matter how great the music is.
8. Try not to leave your dirty glasses strewn about the house, especially if you are wearing your “trademark lipstick” if it’s not long lasting, you WILL be found out.
9. Do not attempt to make-out with any of the following people…the host’s husband or wife, the cute cater waiter, the 75 pound pit bull even though he is wearing a Louis Vuitton collar, or the doorman who you had the “most amazing conversation with.”
10. Always follow-up with a thank you note or phone call. Even if it was the most painful night of your life always make it seem like it was the most magical event of the year. If you could care less about these people write an email or do nothing at all, this will guarantee you will never have to go back!
So now that you are armed with the Ultimate Guest List you can erase “Improve Social Etiquette” off your New Year’s Resolution list and simply have a good time. Following these simple guidelines will ensure that you are the most charming and sophisticated guest at the party and guarantee you another round of invitations to all the fabulous events of the upcoming year. Now that’s something to celebrate!
November 30, 2008
A Family Affair
As we all head (or stumble) into yet another Holiday season, I am reminded of all the Holidays past, and have decided that this year is going to be just a little bit different when it comes to getting along with, and dare I say “enjoying” the Family. Now, if your family is anything like mine, they are a cast of characters who can at times be a bit off-putting, slightly delirious, definitely absent-minded and in no time, drunk! Armed with my best intentions, I have previously headed into these family gatherings with a lot of skepticism, a shred of hope that somehow it will be different this year, and always, ALWAYS with an emotional bodysuit of armor to defend myself against the inevitable attacks of guilt and shame. Don’t get me wrong, we usually have a lot of fun, albeit the self-depracating, poking fun at each other, telling famously embarrasing stories kind of fun, but there IS fun to be had at Christmastime, IF you are prepared. So this year is going to be different, because I’ve got a few things figured out, and I intend to have my stay with my family be comfortable, unnerving and maybe just a little bit joyful. The first thing I figured out is a big one if I want to avoid an all out war. Don’t discuss politics! It’s still hard for me to believe that small minded, ignorant, racist people exist, much less in my own not-so-slightly extended family. So no matter how excited I am about the recent election, I will keep my joy to myself as extra back-up joy just in case I get railed on later in the day for trying to recycle. The second thing I have learned over the years is that Grandkids and even Grandpuppies are infinitely more important than I, and their well being and comfort is of utmost importance regardless of whether I just ran a marathon or won the Nobel Peace Prize. In my parents home, a ten-year- olds crappy artwork is always way more spectacular. A host of other little inconveniences of course pop up throughout the visit, and I am prepared for those too… I have learned to become friends with my parent’s dial-up computer. It takes twenty more ridiculously long minutes to check my email than I am used to, but I have to get over the fact that my parents are a little behind the times technologically, and thats O.K. Also, I now will ignore the miriad of ugly photos hanging up throughout the house that seem to chronicle all of my awkward years to a tee, they never miss a beat or a ridiculous hairstyle. Finally, I have learned to dress in layers as my parents house will always be 10 degrees colder than I am used too, then miraculously skyrocket to dizzying degrees of heat within mere minutes. So now I always have a sweater on hand and good clean socks on my feet (but I still refuse to purchase those annoying “festive” socks with raindeers and santas and shit on them). So keeping all these realizations in mind, I will be heading into another Holiday season with the Family. Bound with my new intelligence, I’m thinking I might be able to get way with leaving the full armored bodysuit at home this year (after all it is $15 to check extra bags) and just be a little smarter and more strategic when it comes to avoiding the emotional landmines that are placed in the general surroundings of the family homestead. With my new found game plan, I begin to pack my bags and prepare to battle the demons of the quintessential dysfunctional family, and brave the emotional massacre that just might be Christmas 2008. As I lay the last of my ten cashmere sweaters on top of the suitcase, I pause and question whether I should throw in my bullet proof vest, just in case. After all, there is a reason they say that family is connected by blood and in my house, no truer words were ever spoken.
November 21, 2008
Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific!
Ever since I was a little girl growing up in the late seventies I have always dreamed about being any of the following…The Breck Girl, Farrah Faucet, Dorothy Hammil, or Little Orphan Annie. So what do these seemingly random characters have in common? They all had great HAIR. Coming from the not-so “bouncin’ and behavin’” hair category, I have always envied women for their precious locks and continue to this day to seek out products that will make me feel like those women from the old shampoo commercials. While I gleefully sported the “bowl cut” in my youth, I have, throughout the years, gone from one tragic hairstyle to the next, miraculously depicting the look of the times with no regard to what style would look best on me, but rather what every other “cool” girl was doing. From perms to peroxide I tried it all, and despite the ridiculous nature of most of my hairdo’s I managed to keep up with the times and trends throughout most of the 80′s. Due to severe financial restrictions in my 20′s, I often employed my friends to cut my hair for me or frequented such high-end establishments as Bo-Rics to take care of my styling needs and I am proud to say that I have yet to be stabbed by scissors or suffer from an infection brought on by dirty combs and brushes (that blue shit really works.) Today, I still don’t spend more than 60 bucks for a haircut and never color or highlight my hair simply because I don’t have the discipline to maintain root control. But this does not mean that I don’t love hair and the women (and men) who have the best of it. I think we all need to take a little more time to appreciate what God placed on top of our heads, thick, thin, straight or curly and take care of our locks because it’s the one thing that makes us unique and special whether we are happy with them or not. So let’s do our part and enjoy a “Good Hair Day” and be grateful for what we got, even if it’s nothing at all, because as we all know by now, it’s “Hair today. Gone tomorrow.”
November 20, 2008
Where’s the Beef?
I’ve been thinking lately of becoming a vegetarian. Well, maybe not a full blown veggie but somewhere along the lines of no red meat, no poultry, but maybe fish and eggs. This is no small task for me being raised with a “meat and potatoes” Midwest mentality and to be honest, I’m scared shitless. Where will all the good times go? Sunday brunch will never be the same without a side of bacon and that sloppy hangover hamburger will never be as good as a sloppy veggie burger. But I think it is time to become a more “conscious eater.” I’m not talking about eating slowly and tasting every morsel that goes into your mouth and chewing “mindfully,” I am talking about being aware of where our food comes from and the horrors that go into putting meat on the table. Just pick up any book on the topic (“Fast Food Nation” comes to mind) or watch any documentary on the subject and you will be appalled at the cruelty and filth that permeates the meatpacking industry. It’s disgusting really that we eat animals to begin with, but that they die painfully at our own hands so that we can have that Big Mac is downright evil. Now, having said this and realizing how wrong it is the kill and eat animals, I still find it ridiculously hard to turn down a steak dinner or even a turkey sandwich, but I’m going to take baby steps here and just start giving up one thing at a time. Having to give up anything for me is traumatizing. I tried a couple of months ago to stop using artificial sweetner and that lasted about 2 days, so this is going to be a real challenge. Not to mention Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and although I would rather starve than eat Tofu turkey (I’m sorry that’s just not right) I’m going to do my best to just say “No” to meat. I’m scared its true, but then I think about all those poor suffering animals and I say to myself, “Don’t be such a chicken.”
November 9, 2008
Hope. The Highest Power
So it seems there’s a new girl in town, this gal Hope. She’s not really new exactly, but she sure has been getting a lot of press lately. Oprah indicated on her T-shirt the other day that “Hope Won” and our new President-elect Barack Obama has been giving her a whole lot of lip service. It’s got me thinking, this girl Hope must be so cool that she can spend that much time on Mr. Obama’s lips and miraculously doesn’t seem to be pissing off his wife! So I thought I would take a closer look at this girl Hope and see what she’s all about. For one thing, she is quite optimistic and only looks to the future. She never dwells in the past or complains about tragic ex-boyfriends, she merely looks toward tomorrow with the mantra “better days ahead.” Hope doesn’t run around with lowlifes and degenerates. As a matter of fact, she runs in quite sophisticated, dare I say “spiritual” circles and pals around with girls like Grace and Faith. She’s no stranger to the international crowd and although some people choose to ignore her, she always seems to show up, especially after a big, BIG earth shattering event like 9/11. She is quite dependable too, always there when you need her, bringing you a bit of comfort and reassurance. She allows us to get a better night’s sleep and doesn’t nag you about what you’re going to do. She just lets things fall into place naturally as if she is a part of some Higher Power. As a matter of fact, I think she might have the right ear to this Higher Power and might even be in the running to BE the next Higher Power if only we believe in her and vote “Yes! for Hope.” I think we all need more Hope in our lives, for without her we are a bit lost, way too consumed with the past and have no direction forward. We will be much more at peace with ourselves and the world if we let her in and allow her to the guide the way. What do we have to lose anyways, we’ve already been down the road of pain and destruction led by evil forces who were more consumed with their own greed than the betterment of mankind. Hope would never let that happen to us. Like a beacon of light she would show us the way to a better day and never try to get back at anyone or kill innocent people for her own selfish motives. She will do us proud and always remind us that brighter days are still ahead. So even though her good friend Mr. Barack Obama thankfully will be running our country. I think Hope should rule the world. After all, what’s wrong with having a little Hope?
November 2, 2008
A Mighty Fine Whine
Bitch, whine, moan, complain. Bitch, bitch, whine, moan, complain, complain, complain. Whine a little more, bitch a lot and complain ’till the sun goes down. If there is one thing New Yorkers are good at it’s complaining. Whether its the earful you get on the elevator ride to work or the double finger flip off the passing biker with a big “F – You” variety you witness all too often, we city dwellers have a lot of frustrations and aren’t afraid to tell you about it. Just the other day I was walking past a couple yelling at each other on the street about their non existent sex life, right out there for everyone to hear. I’m not sure if it’s just me, but it seems our inability to keep our problems to ourselves is creating a world where no one is happy because everyone has to hear about everyone else’s bullshit. Is there no solace, no resting place for the happy and contented? There should be places to go where bitching and moaning is outlawed. Only happy people are allowed who say nice things about the world. How long would that place stay open? A day? Think about it, we live, as a matter of fact we thrive, on each others problems and complaints. The coworker who always has a beef with someone, the nagging wife or bitter mother who constantly drag you down with endless chatter about whatever it is that keeps them stuck in their misery. Why is it so much easier to be negative than positive? Why does it feel good sometimes just to let loose and rant and rave about your boss, your husband and your ridiculously loud neighbor? Are we that pent up with negative emotion that we have to spew out such hateful remarks and endless dribble over and over again? I know it’s been said many times many ways but can’t we “All just get along?” The fact that I’m complaining about complaining makes it all the more obvious to me that something has got to change. Our country is about to elect a new President on Tuesday, hopeful one that will do what he says and bring about some necessary change. Who knows, maybe we will all wake up and realize things aren’t so bad, life really is beautiful and people are truly loving and wonderful. I think we will have a lot less to complain about with a new President in office, but I’m sure as good citizens we will find something we don’t like about him as well. After all, what’s the point of celebrating a glorious victory if you can’t have a good whine?
