Am I Really Thanking the Golden Globes for Shoving My Privacy in My Face?

I am writing this post from a Starbucks. Blissfully, no one here gives a damn.

Thank God because I am constantly picking those everything bagel poppy seeds out of teeth.

Last night was an exciting night in entertainment: The Golden Globe Awards. I have always wanted to go to this event. It looks like so much fun. My favorite part is when the camera people show clips of the stars chatting up each other right before cutting to a commercial break. They look so intent on one another. I often imagine the conversations.  Like JLo trying to explain her boy toy to Steven Spielberg, or Bill Murray trying to explain his mental-health patient hair from last night. Really Bill, I love you, but please find a comb.

Yes, like many civilians, I too have wondered what it would be like to get your name called, walk up to the stage, and make your acceptance speech.

Until last night.

Jodie Foster had a lot to say. Websites are blowing up with articles about her speech. Twitter is going banana sandwich with all the tweets and commentary. Whatever your opinion, you gotta put your hands together and give it up for her.

Girlfriend has been in the business since she was three.  She is already a two time Golden Globe and Academy Award winner, and last night was honored with the Cecil B. DeMille award. I say, let her say whatever the hell she wants. Why not?

There were many points that the talented Ms. Foster made during her sermon, but the one that slapped me in the face was about privacy.

Most of us non-celebrities types are oozing with it. Or so we think.

In the world of Twitter, YouTube, and cell phone cameras, any jack-ass can be a “star.” Some people post willingly, others, not so much.

Think about how Kim K. got her “big break” – a sex tape.  Katherine Webb, the girlfriend of Alabama’s QB, got around eighty bazillion hits after the ESPN cameras panned to her during the BCS championship game. And remember Chocolate Rain? Ooooh I could not get enough of that guy!

There are definitely positives that come from social media. But what about the negatives? A person can record you on their phone and post it, without your permission. Oh sure, you can sue, but only after the fact.  Problems can also occur innocently, such as if someone posts a photo of my daughter at a birthday party without my consent. The photo can end up all over the web if not careful.

Take a look at that FBI Agent texting photos of himself shirtless. Dude – you are in the FBI, how could you think you not would be caught?  Or the General Patraeus and General Allen scandals? You run our militia guys and have access to all kinds of equipment. Did you not think naughty emails were a bad idea? And of course there is Weiner-gate and the whole sexting scandal. Way to go fellas.

Even if you are not a celebrity, your privacy can still be invaded.

So why are we so interested in other people’s beeswax? We are fascinated with Reality TV (although sometimes, not very real), catching people do embarrassing things online (cheating, singing, picking underwear out of their rears, etc.), and of course, celebrity tabloid news.

You could say it makes us feel better about ourselves when we see someone do something ridiculous. Or, maybe we learn how someone became successful at their job when we watch a documentary.

I think we are just nosy. Period. Myself included.

Why do we slow down when we see an accident on the side of the road? Why do we gossip or want to hear the latest office/mother’s club/celebrity gossip? Why do we sit in outdoor cafes and people watch?

I don’t have all the answers, but it sure is interesting.

But circle back to Jodie-the-lambs-are-screaming-Foster. She is right. If I want you to know something about my life, I’ll tell you when I’m ready. If not, TS.

So thank you Golden Globes for reminding me that nobody gives a rat’s ass if I go to PetSmart in sweaty gym clothes with no makeup, three pimples, and toffee nut coffee breath.

Unless the ding dong store clerk decides to post it on Facebook.

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