Am I Really Writing a Thank You Letter to Robert De Niro?

People say I am a friendly. I smile a lot, I like to chat with others, and I’m out-going. I guess you can say I am a pretty happy person (try not to throw up in your mouth too much).

But take a step into my head and you might want to grab a flashlight, a bottle of Prozac, and some turkey-jerky.

While presenting at the 2014 Oscars for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Original Screenplay, Robert De Niro said, “The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing: isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination and consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that is on a good day.”

Bobby, you couldn’t be more spot on.

Thanks man.

The inside of a writer’s mind is always a wild ride. It is dark, creepy, and sometimes full of Snickers bars. The inside of my noggin looks like the love child of Edgar Allan Poe and Ruth Buzzi, but with a lot of grammatical errors.

You might get lost a few times down a rabbit hole ripe with memories of roller skating into a rose bush, getting caught for smoking cigarettes in the closet, or school kids laughing at an unfortunate bob haircut. These memories are usually followed with feelings of worry, fear, anger, and laughter. Then wine.

Not that I would know firsthand.

Writing is such an odd creature. It evokes so many different responses. Some people need it like a drug. Others use writing a form of release. It helps some organize their thoughts. Many are graded on how they write. Sometimes writing is boring. Sometimes my ass hurts after writing for too long. Writing can be pure torture for many. Just ask my seven year old.

The art of writing evokes the same emotions as the act of reading. There is crying, there is laughing, and there is, “This is the dumbest crap I have ever wrote/read. No one cares about a donkey’s point of view.”

However, for many writers, there is one subtext of fear: No one will give a shit.

Truth. And I don’t even like cats.

As writers, we give a shit. Too much in fact. Those sentence came from inside our heads, our hearts, and most often, the life experience of letting one rip during Social Studies. Not that I would know.

Writers write because we have a story to tell. If we don’t get it out, we might go crazy and accidentally buy too many bags of tortilla chips and multi-colored pens. Then stare into space for a while. Once again, not that I would know anything about that.

I write because I have to. Otherwise my head would pop off. I write because I think life is funny. It is ridiculously funny to me. It also really sucks ass at times. I write because I care, and hopefully someone will read what I wrote and relate to it.

So Dear Mr. De Niro: I want to thank you for shedding some light onto the thought process of the writer and why we have to write that novel, short story, script, and yes, blog.

If we are lucky, someone else will give a shit enough to read it.

Am I Really Thanking the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Anniversary Issue for Raising the Bar…to Outer Space?

Where they come from.

I feel comfortable in my own skin. Just like every other human being in the world, there things I like about my appearance, and things I’m not so crazy about. Oh sure, I have my bad hair days, bloated jeans days, and the “Did a crow land on my face while I was sleeping?” days; but overall, I feel pretty decent.

Until the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue landed in our mailbox last week.

One look at that magazine and I sent a letter to my rear end letting it know it was dead to me.

Who the hell are these women? Did you see Christie Brinkley? Her legs?? She is sixty and looks better than most nineteen year olds.

I imagine if I took Wonder Woman’s invisible jet back to her Amazonian homeland, this is where the models are bred.

US Magazine has a section titled, Stars – They Are Just Like Us! It shows movie stars and models doing everyday things.

Let me clue you in US – no, they are not like us. These chicks are nothing like us regular people. They are superhuman. Or perhaps alien.

I’ll be honest, I cannot help but stare. These women are amazing. I’m not even jealous, just in awe. It is like looking at a painting in a museum. If that painting had perky nipples.

The release of this SI issue got my wheels turning: What does it take to create a model?

Here’s what I’ve come up with:

1) Parental Diet. I think we need to take a closer look at the creators of the catwalkers. Did the mother only ingest Jamba Juice and Elle magazines while pregnant? Did they go to a sperm bank and ask for the Superman Special?

2) Model Insides. If we take a peek inside a model, will we find a bunch of that Wolverine mercury and some random parts from a Chevy Nova? There is no way those girls have normal spleens like the rest of us. There are probably a bunch of miniature British and Swedish inventors in there running things in tip top shape. Plus, the Swedes always have the best FDA un-approved drugs.

3) Real Boobs. I’m pretty sure those things are real. This only makes things worse. Some might say it is because the models are so young. I don’t buy that. Even when I was sixteen my boobs were never that cheerful.

4) Can We Create a Hybrid? Seriously, why not? If we took a model’s egg, and then took sperm from a nuclear physicist, and then trained the offspring in MMA combat techniques we would have the ultimate secret weapon. We could Trojan Horse all kinds of world issues. No one suspects a hot chick.

5) None of the above – They were just born that way. This is probably the truth. Damn.

What I felt like after reading the SI issue.

However these long-legged beauties came to roam the land among us plain folks, one thing I will not do is knock them down. So they are gorgeous? So we can’t stop staring at them? So what? No need to talk crap about them and be catty. Plus, I couldn’t knock them down if I tried, they are far too tall for me.

These ladies (and men) might have a superhuman body structure, but I bet their feelings are not indestructible. They have a gift. And guess what? So do we. Minus the tight butt and pouty lips.

So while the supermodels of the world have raised the beauty bar for us regular folks, this doesn’t give anyone a free pass to stoop low with nasty comments.

Unless, of course, you are doing the limbo under that bar. It’s what us short ladies will be doing.

Am I Really Bidding $800 for a Set of BBQ Sauces?

CanIgetthreehundredforthislovelyitem?ThreehundredthreehundredThreehundred!CanIgetthreefifty?ThreeFifty!Fourhundred,fourhundred?Fourhundred!Fourhundredgoingonce-goingtwice-Soldtotheshortladyintheback!

Auctions. These events are like skydiving – a rush of exhilaration, joy, and pocket emptying.

This past weekend we attended our daughter’s school auction. It was a beautiful affair. People were dolled up, alumnus came back to their old alma mater, and everyone got buzzed and nutty over a blanket made out of t-shirts.

I have only been to a few of these shin-digs, however, I have noticed two things: 1) You need to go into the event with a plan and budget; and 2) People lose their marbles at these events. Myself included.

Out of all the wonderful auction items, I had my heart set on only one thing. Even now, thinking about how special this item is and what it means to my daughter and my family, makes me tear up.

I had my eye on the prize, and I won it. A two-fer. I helped out a great school and obtained something with tremendous meaning for my child.

Here’s how I did it, illustrated a la marble count:

1) PLAN – Talk to husband and decide on a budget together. We were not going over X amount of dollars.

RESULT – I ignored the budget and went rogue. MARBLE LOSS: 10

2) PLAN – Act like a lady and raise my bidder number.

RESULT – Stood on chair with high heels screaming. MARBLE LOSS: 5

3) PLAN – Clap and smile if win item or shrug it off if bid was too high

RESULT – Did the cabbage patch dance when won item. MARBLE LOSS: 25

While I did act silly during the bidding and probably ended up with -15 marbles, isn’t that what it’s all about? Having fun and raising money for good cause/good school?

Apparently not.

While most attendees either didn’t care who won what, or were happy people were bidding and helping out the school, a number of people reacted in an odd way (more marble loss).

After winning the item, some people felt it necessary to bequeath my husband and me with bizarre questions and comments such as: “What are you going to do with _____?” Or, “Wow, you sure did spend a lot. Must be nice.” Or one of my favorites, No dialogue – Insert glaring at us up and down, then turning away in disgust.

I’ll be honest, the cattiness really bummed me out. These are parents from our child’s school, our community, our church. These are people I look to in times of need, both for my family and my child, and I the same for them. This is our village of role models for my young daughter.

I couldn’t understand it. Were people upset if they did not win the item? Were they concerned we would not use the item in the proper way? Did they think we had a secret money tree in our backyard, supplying us with endless funds so that we could nap all day?

Nope, no tree. But my husband and I did have a “spirited” conversation on the ride home about what we spent.

Whether we won or lost the item, or rolling in the dough or not, who cares?

What I looked like after the live auction.

If there is one thing this life has taught me, it’s that you can’t control how people act, treat you, or feel about you. You can’t stop living your life, or curb being who you are because of it. And while yes, snide comments hurt, it’s really not worth the time to try and change someone’s opinion of you. Because it won’t.

Bottom line: It’s your life, no one else’s.

I will always be that short, loud, crazy lady in the back of the room raising my flag and having a good time. It’s who I am.

So the next time someone says to me, “Wow! Can’t believe you did that. What are you going to do with it?”

I’ll say, “Anything I damn well please.”

They’re my marbles anyway.

Am I Really Telling Jane Seymour to Cut the Crap?

Nothing says love like this hamster with a rose in its hair.

The day for lovers is upon us. Or more aptly, the day for chalky candy and all things pink. I don’t think this is what St. Valentine had envisioned when he married so many star-crossed lovers. And was then imprisoned for it.

This time of year we are bombarded by a bazillion jewelry commercials. People are hugging and kissing and wearing collared shirts. Kay Jewelers takes the cake with the “Every Kiss Begins With Kay” signature line. Even the lovely and talented Jane Seymour has her Open Hearts Collection.

While I do really like Ms. Seymour and her design (it is pretty, but knowing me, her open heart would catch on my sweater, creating an open holes collection), her jewelry line seems to be a bit discriminatory.

It got me thinking. There really should be more practical jewelry collections for the everyday person.

Let’s take a look:

1) The No I’m Not Engaged Yet Grandma, So Quit Asking Collection. It might not be your grandmother doing the nagging. Maybe it’s your mom, or crazy Aunt Gemma who’s always badgering you about your love life. If you wear this necklace, the questions will stop. CHARM: A hand with no rings.

2) The It’s Your Turn Collection. This one can be used like a hotel Do Not Disturb sign. It is applicable to anything; changing diapers, answering the door, getting up from the table to get more ketchup. CHARM: A finger pointing.

3) The Sorry, I Just Farted in the Bed Collection. Anyone who has been in a long term relationship gets this. It is real. It happens. Don’t pretend it doesn’t. CHARM: A cloud.

4) The Ooops! I Just Spent Too Much at Target, But Look at These Awesome Snow Owls Collection. This one you give as a peace offering. CHARM: A melting dollar sign.

5) The Aw Man! I Totally Spaced About V-Day, So All I Got You Was This Bag of Werther’s Original Candies Collection. This is also a very real thing. I am guessing at least 3 out of 5 dudes will go through this come February 14^th. If you are in a new relationship, you’re screwed buddy. Refer to collection #4 to make it up to her. CHARM: A guy shrugging. A guy saying sorry. A bong.

No. Just no.

6) The Am I the Only One Who Does Anything Around Here? Collection. Everyone has felt like this toward their special someone at some point. Why not make it official with a charm? CHARM: A gold embossed business card for Molly Maids.

7) The We Just Started Dating, So I’m Ignoring that You Ate Onions for Lunch While I Mouth Kiss You Collection. Ah, new love. In the beginning we are so forgiving, we look past so much. Like the fact he only takes you out to Jay Jay’s Shuck and Dive and makes you buy the pitchers of beer because, “Oh man, I only have a ten.” Or that she is always texting and tweeting during dinner, accompanied by constant giggling, gasping, and, “No Way-ing!” CHARM: A voice box of your mother saying, “I told you so.”

8) The Well, I’m Already in Bed and I Just Put on Hand Lotion So, Can We Do It Tomorrow? Collection. This is for the people who have been together a while. A long while. I hate to admit this, but while I used to be spontaneous and fun, sometimes I just want to fall asleep watching the weather report. CHARM: A letter to all twentysomethings saying, “Yes, this will one day happen to you. Also, wash your face before you pass out, you’ll thank me later.”

9) The Uh Oh. Looks Like We Did It on the First Date So…Um…I Guess I’ll Go…But I’ll Call You Tomorrow Collection. This one is self-explanatory. CHARM: A telephone number, missing three digits.

10) The No, We Are Not Having Any More Kids Collection. This is for the couple who just got married, as well as those who already have kids. I am not sure why family, friends, and strangers are so concerned about us churning out more humans, but this necklace might help. CHARM: A lady crossing her legs.

11) All of the above. It can be like a Pandora bracelet, except way more ghetto.

So this Valentine’s Day, give the gift of lasting love. If you can live with the good, the boring, the forgetful, the smelly, the rude, and the forgiving, then that is worth celebrating. That’s real love.

Unless your form of affection comes via a hot pink stuffed dragon holding a box of really bad chocolates. Then Godspeed my friend.

So much romance! So much mystery! All stamped on candies that taste like Pepto tablets.

Am I Really Begging Hollywood to Show a Real Family Morning?

Who are these people? Are they Dutch?

Sunlight filters in through a window over a kitchen sink. Smiling and well-groomed faces sit around a clean and beautifully laid out breakfast bar. Fresh fruit, a decanter of orange juice, whole grain toast, and cloth napkins adorn the table. A father enjoys his mug of coffee while reading the newspaper. A mother, wearing a pressed shirt and slacks, lip gloss, and neatly combed hair, flips another round of fluffy pancakes onto a plate. As she places the stack onto the table for her bright-eyed children she announces is a cheery voice, “Okay kids, almost time for school. We don’t want to be late.”

This scene makes me wonder: Who the hell are these people?

I have yet to have a morning so awake, so put together, so relaxed. I am pretty sure most parents out there will agree. It is tiresome to watch movies and television shows portray the above ridiculously off the mark family morning. The sun does not shine at 5:45 in the a.m. people. Why pretend that it does? Is it to save on lighting?

In order to be of some service to the motion picture industry, I thought I would depict a more realistic picture of what a school/work day morning looks like:

6:15a.m. – The alarm goes off. I smack it like a dirty fly. Thank God for the snooze button.

6:38a.m. – I jump out of bed. Crap! I snoozed too long. I am probably confused and think it is 11:30 p.m. because it’s still dark outside. What a bullsh*t trick.

6:43a.m. – I wash my face and brush my teeth. I do this with cold water so I wake up. Actually, the hot water has not had time to heat up yet, so I really don’t have a choice. There is absolutely no make-up involved. Nor a brush. I do rustle up an old sweater and throw it on over my pjs.

6:48a.m. – Still dark. I nudge our old dog to go outside and do her business. She looks at me clearly confused by the dark morning. She lies down and falls asleep on the patio. She does not pee.

This lady looks ten times better than me in the morning.

This lady looks ten times better than I do in the morning.

6:49a.m. – I pre-set the coffee maker (thank you Jesus), so I guzzle as much coffee, water, and juice as I can while watching the news. House fire, police chase, rain. Extremely uplifting. I make breakfast and lunch for my child. I drink more coffee. I am now ready to wake the beast.

6:55a.m. – I tip toe into my daughter’s room, turn off the night light, give her a kiss, and say, “It’s time to wake up.” She ignores me. I try again to wake her. Success! She welcomes the day with a, “No! Leave me alone!” I open the binds, which does nothing since it is all black outside. I turn on the bathroom light and try to coax her out of bed with, “It’s library day.” This also does nothing.

7:04 a.m. – A disgruntled seven year old sits at the table in her Hello Kitty pjs. Her hair looks as if she attended a Grateful Dead concert…in a tornado. As she licks the Nutella off her toast she glares at me and lets me know that I have ruined her day because I interrupted her sleep. Awesome. I drink more coffee, fill the dog bowls with food and water, empty the dishwasher, and turn up the volume on the TV to drown out her moaning. Oh good, it’s Matt Lauer on the Today Show. He is talking about a car bombing and a mall shooting. Also, it is still dark outside.

7:22 a.m. – I clean up the kitchen and cattle prod my child into her room to get ready. I go to the bathroom and quickly throw on some clothes. Again, there is absolutely no hair brushing involved.

7:35 a.m. – It is time to leave for school. I find my daughter in her room wearing only a shirt and underpants. Apparently she has been busy reading a book while dressing her pink bear in a purple sundress. I say in a calm voice to my child, “What are you doing? We are going to be late!!!! We are leaving in one minute!” My yelling wakes the neighbor’s dog.

Our dog sleeps peacefully outside. In the dark.

7:42 a.m. – We let in our dog and head out to the car. Dawn has finally broken, so we do not need flashlights to see where we are going.

7:44 a.m. – My husband is still asleep in bed.

The only people I know who have on pressed clothing and make up at that time of day are the working parents and teachers. I’m pretty sure even they would not brush their teeth if they did not have to.

So Dear Hollywood: I am begging you, for once show a frantic parent losing their sh*t in the a.m. because their kids are refusing to put on socks.

I don’t even know what’s happening here. Someone is going to spill that coffee.

I know, it is not as sexy as a fake mom making French toast for her clean kids, but at least it’s real.

All the early morning un-caffeinated parents will thank you.

Am I Really Sitting Alone at the Social Media Lunch Table?

Please check LIKE, er, I mean yes!

Remember when you passed notes to your friends during home room? It was usually about the boy who sat in front of you in computer class (Braden is a) hot, b) super hot, or c) surface of the sun hot). Or if you forgot to study for the geometry test. Or if you had run out of clean underpants, forcing you to wear your bathing suit as a bra/panty combo. Those were the good old days. I sure wish we had a way to communicate all of our goofy stuff like that –

-Oh wait. We do. It’s called Facebook.

Social Media: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. have become the adult’s (and not-so adult) version of high school gossip. With way better photos.

Oh now don’t sweat it, this is not a post bagging on Social Media. The benefits can far outweigh the negatives. I stay up to date with family who live far away. It has given me a vehicle to reconnect with long lost friends. New connections have formed because of the social media circle. I can post this crappy blog on it. Sadly, I have learned about current events on social media. On more than one occasion, it has saved my ass to remember a birthday. And when my daughter broke her arm, it was a way to ask for help. Facebook and other SMs are my friend.

But (you knew the but was coming) if you take a closer look, Facebook/Social Media can sometimes be just a big popularity contest. It can be a race to see who can get the most “friends” or “likes” for their comment or photo. Great for businesses. A little weird if it is your sixty-five year old neighbor Lou.

Utilizing my research background and keen eye (cruising FB while wearing my glasses and drinking red wine), I culled through some of the most interesting/ridiculous/notice me posts. For simplicity’s sake, I have categorized the posts:

FAMILY UPDATE: When the hell is Spring Break/Christmas Break/Fall Break/Columbus Day Break Over? My kids are driving me crazy!!! Followed one week later with… Movie night with my favorite people. I have nothing to criticize here. Most of my posts are about my child. I too have struggling thoughts of “maybe we should have just gotten another dog” vs. “I can’t live without you!” The favorite people comment usually does make me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Probably because at this moment I am having thoughts of “school should be year round.”

FUNNY/CUTE ANIMAL POST: Kitty must be sleepy [photo attached of a black cat with white paws under the covers]. I am a dog person, so I have a hard time “liking” cat anything. Unless an animal is in pain and looking sad. Those ASPCA commercials get me every time. If you post about your sweet Mr. Pickles who died of cancer, I will send you a floral arrangement.

FOOD & DRINK PHOTO UPDATE: Trust me on this, your food does not look as good via photo as it does live. Once I saw a post of someone’s homemade stew. It looked nothing like stew, but it did look like something else. Just don’t do it.

WORK/VACATION BRAG UPDATE: Working [insert photo of person on a sailboat on a sunny day]. True story. My husband loves to posts these whenever he is on a client outing on a sunny golf course. I think people want to punch him in the face for this. By people, I mean me. Especially when it is cold and flu season and I am reading this in line at Target with a mouth breather behind me.

CHILD UPDATE: I guess Susie/Brad/Carlos/Jamila/Insert any child’s name here doesn’t like Santa! [photo attached of screaming child on a degenerate Santa’s lap]. These photos are always a crowd pleaser and will get a thumbs up from me every time. Kids are cute. Screaming kids are cuter.

DRUNK POST: Totally sober! [insert photo of women with duck kissy-face double fisted with stocked bar behind them]. I think this one speaks for itself. I have been both the kissy faced girl in front of the bar, and the one passed out behind the bar [not mentioned in photo]. Maybe don’t post if your boss is one of your FB “friends.”

NEWS: Woman Pulls Gun From Vagina After Dispute Over Space Aliens. I know. This was an actual article. This post only created more questions for me, like, what kind of gun was it? How big can this woman’s vajay-jay be? Where were the aliens? Were they from Planet 52?

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A COMEDIAN/SOMEONE GIVE ME MY OWN SITCOM POST: Political Comment. Political Comment. Religious Comment. Comment about ingrown toenail. Photo posts of marquees with extra letters, therefore spelling FART CLASSES instead of ART CLASSES. Okay, the FART CLASSES is pretty funny. The rest, can it. I think we can all agree that we were up to our eyeballs in not-so-witty political quips from the last two elections. I am glad we have the freedom of speech, but some people should not be allowed to give there opin- oh wait, I write this blog…nevermind.

No matter how silly, informative, sad, or uplifting social media can be, there is one thing it is not: life in real time. You can’t hold someone’s newborn baby online, you can’t hug someone online if they are having a bad day, and you surely can’t take a bite of the photo of the State Fair’s fried Nutella pie.

No, you can’t do any of those things, but you can learn about the baby, the friend, and the pie online. What you choose to do in your offline life is up to you.

So yes, go and connect. Make new friends and see what is happening out in the world. Then put down your phone, shut your laptop, and go live it. Hiking that mountain will be far more exhilarating than looking at the photos that chick from yoga class posted.

Plus, it will give you something to talk about with your friends between World History and A.P. Bio.

Am I Really Hazing a Senior Citizen to Buy Some Thin Mints?

It is Girl Scout cookie season people. So kiss your New Year’s resolutions good bye!

When I learned about this year’s cookie time line and goals, I did what any mother would do and invested in a new pair of tennis shoes. Let’s face it folks, if you have a child under the age of nine, it is really the parent doing the peddling of these boxes of diet busters. I am surely not sending my seven year old out by herself to hit up the Circle K Gas Station attendant for some Trefoils.

While all Girl Scouts (myself included) enjoy this yearly rite of passage, things this year have been a bit wonky in the cookie game. I’m guessing times must be hard at the factory, since they have run out of certain types of cookies and our poor volunteer cookie mom can’t get her hands on them.

These GSA difficulties have left me to speculate as to the potential culprits. Below are some creative possibilities:

1) Keebler Elves. Word on the street is the Keebler Elves got loaded off some cooking sherry and took it out on the Thin Mint plant. The result – eighteen months community service and shame upon the house of Elf.

2) Famous Amos. The cookie king of the 1970s and 80s has come out of retirement to create a secret weapon cookie. The Amos camp has been closed lipped about it all, but one source leaked, “If you like the color maroon and the show Charles in Charge, you are gonna love this cookie!” Fact: His cookies are delicious.

3) Little Debbie. It has been rumored that after years in and out of rehab for a problem with Oxy, Little Debbie lost her snack cakes and tried to kidnap the head baker at GS Cookies.

4) Lorna Doone. Tabloids have reported after a brief stint as account manager for GS, Lorna Doone was arrested for embezzling Tagalongs from the factory. When asked for a quote, Doone replied, “I always wanted a peanut butter center.”

5) Mrs. Fields. This loving and kind leader in the cookie cake industry has allegedly round up some of her senior citizen pals to boycott the Samoa. Over at the Golden Years Condos, they have been seen marching …er…scootering around with signs saying “Discrimination against those with coconut allergies!” The riot police were called in.

Struck with the above possible scenarios, I promise to do my part for the Girl Scouts of America. I will gently email badger people to please help my child reach her cookie goal. I will peer pressure co-workers into boxes of Tagalongs because don’t they want the troop to go to our Nation’s Capital? I will softly harass elderly neighbors into purchasing Savanah Smiles (they are light and lemon!). I will seductively lay out the Samoas next to the Do-Si-Dos outside of SAM’s Club. I will do this and so much more, all so that my child can get a stuffed artic fox.

So when a small girl rings your doorbell, don’t shoo her away. Think of her troop, think of this great organization which teaches life skills, think of how delicious those Thin Mints will taste after a few hours in the freezer.

Also, think about me trying to pick up the pieces when my child doesn’t sell enough boxes to get the polar bear bandana.

***Please Note: All of the above 5 scenarios are fictional. I am sure you already knew that, but I have to say it. I, in no way mean to slander any of the above organizations or brand names. I love all cookies and cookie makers. I also support the GSA. Please do not sue me. I am nice person. This post is meant for pure entertainment purposes ONLY. It is silly and not at all real. Except for the selling of Girl Scout cookies, that is very real. And yes, we are still taking orders.

Am I Really Having a Golden Globes Girl Crush?

If you are like me, you watched the Golden Globes this past Sunday Night. I like this awards show much better than the Oscars because it is fancy, yet all the stars seem to be relaxed and are enjoying themselves…because they are smashed.

I am not one to be all “Girl Power,” nor am I trying to follow in the footsteps of Gloria Steinem, but can I get a “What What for the Ladeeeeeeeeeezzzz??!!”

Sorry boys, but the chicas took it this year at the Golden Globes.

Let us start with lovely and talented hosts: Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. They win, again. I personally love these two. They are hilarious and both are comedy geniuses (a two-fer!). Apparently, all of Hollywood seems to think so too. I don’t think Bono just makes out with anyone.

Moving on – Jennifer Lawrence. Love her, love her, love her. A brilliant actress, everyone sings her praises as an awesome person, and she is only twelve and half years old. Amazing! Some fashion critics poo-pooed her white dress last night. Whatever. Let’s face it, this chick could wear a trash back covered in soggy Raisin Bran while flipping everyone off and I would still love her.

Amy Adams. Also a winner last night, from the same movie, American Hustle. Another amaze-balls actress. She can sing, dance, act, and not look ridiculous in princess clothes. She also seems sweet.

Diane Keaton. She accepted the Cecil B. DeMille award for Woody Allen. She wore a lady tux and pulled it off. She looked great. Don’t know about you, but if I tried to wear a tux I would look like a very disgruntled cross-dresser.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Hilarious. She did not say one word last night and stole the show. She is a brilliant comedienne who does not take herself too seriously, but is seriously talented.

Amy Poehler won for best actress in a TV Comedy. Double score. Hate to say it, I am just happy that chick from Girls did not win again. We are on overload with her.

Rita Wilson. I know she wasn’t nominated for anything. I just really like her.

Emma Thompson. While watching her barefoot onstage made me a little uncomfortable (Put on your shoes Emma! There could be nails on the stage! Are you up to date on your tetanus shot?), I like that she just does not give a damn. Also, she is a kick ass actress.

Drew Barrymore. Rocking the pregnant frock. She wasn’t the only one beautiful and prego. Olivia Wilde, Kerry Washington, and Elsa Pataky stood by her in soon-to-be motherhood. That’s a lot of hottie hormone action. Also, I want to be Drew’s friend.

Andy Samberg. Not a girl, I know. But he came out of the SNL family and he kept the night lighthearted while being shocked and genuinely thankful for his win.

What did we learn from the night? Having a personality wins. The men seemed so serious about their wins. Why? Society doesn’t want to hear about how you have “grown as an artist,” and that every day you “dive deeper into your craft.” Nope. We just want to see it and experience it. Remember that old saying, Show, don’t tell. Boys, the ladies have you beat on this one.

Please note, I love men. Many of my favorite actors and comedians are male. But watching last night made me so proud to be a woman, I almost ran out and bought two packs of tampons. During the day.

So ladies, wave your bra high and proud. If life gets you down at the PTA, or if that loud talker guy at work got your promotion, just do what Tina or Amy would do – make them laugh.

Oh, and then spread a rumor that he has a raging case of herpes and put super glue all over his desk.

Am I Really Running Twelve Miles, Juicing Carrots, and Feeding All the Children in Calcutta?

It’s a new year! Personally, I am more than happy to welcome 2014, and to never speak about 2013 again. Sayonara!

Like many human beings this time of year, you have probably set out some New Year’s goals. Some might be a bit lofty (meet Ben Affleck), to pretty realistic (wear pants). So I trolled the internet, asked friends, and found my journal from 1996 to drum up a bevy of resolutions…which are usually broken.

Let us review and recap the most common aspirations:

Lose Weight This is usually number one on everyone’s list. We can clump dust off the NordicTrack, eat better, and visit the dentist after ten years, into this category. I once read an article about a model who starts her day with hot water and lemon and stays away from night shade vegetables (a.k.a. tomatoes). She looked amazing in the photo layout, all legs and perfect skin. After I read it, while polishing off a bagel with cream cheese and an Americano, I threw that magazine in the trash. Weirdo.

Find Love This one always throws me off. Where does the person intend on looking for said love? Match.com? Bars? Churches? The Rodeo? I would like everyone to “find love,” but maybe start with baby steps like: Will wear push-up bra to Taekwondo class.

Quit Drinking/Smoking/Drugs/Eating Little Debbie Snack Cakes Whew! This one is toughy. I applaud anyone who attempts to stop a bad habit. Once, for Lent, I gave up being five to ten minutes late everywhere. It lasted a couple weeks. Then, much like an addict, it crept up on me. I would say, “It’s only five minutes.” Or, “Just this one time being late my daughter’s ballet class won’t kill anyone.” I’m pretty sure my family is planning an intervention for this problem of mine.

Stop Yelling at the Kids Good luck with this one. When you figure out how to do this, let me know. Then I’ll call Ripley’s Believe It Or Not!

Start up a Hobby Specificity helps here. Otherwise, you will end up in neighbor Jerry’s drum circle and smelling like Patchouli.

Write the Great American Novel I’ll start tomorrow. Right after I find my lucky pen, clean out the junk drawer, and complete all of my other resolutions.

Spend More Family Quality Time I give it one week. One day. One hour. Screw it.

Eat Only Organic You can also include, use all organic products, cleaning aids, clothing, etc. Down Side: You may go broke and starve because you spent all your money on Gwyneth Paltrow’s cruelty-free bed linens. Up Side: You will easily achieve goal number one in no time (see above).

Be Kinder/More Tolerant Toward Others With the way we sometimes treat each other, coupled with all of the world’s traumatic events, this might be the best resolution yet. If we could just try to put our petty BS aside and step outside of our everyday micro lives, a positive trend could start and we could wind up being a better society for it. Help out your fellow man in need. Don’t just shake your head and say, “That’s too bad your house burnt down, now all you have is the Hump Daaay shirt on your back.” Go drop off some Gatorade to him.

Sadly, some people will continue to be jerks, be bull headed, and just won’t change. The crazies will probably still stay crazy, and a-holes will still be a-holes, but you don’t have to let them drag you down. Helping out one another might the resolution with staying power.

So if you do just one thing this Year of the Green Horse 2014, stand up with me and try being a little bit kinder to your fellow human. It’s a lot cheaper than those organic pomegranates, and trust me, your heart will feel just as satisfied as if you ran a 5K.

Who knows, maybe it will inspire you and me to stop yelling at the kids.

Oh who am I kidding? That’s impossible.

Happy New Year!

Am I Really Giving My Box of Samoas to a Gaggle of Daddy Long Legs?

Childhood entails so many beautiful rites of passage. School, your first crush, losing your first tooth, catching rolly pollys, playing in the mud, and of course Girl Scout sleep away camp (insert Cub Scout/Boy Scout if you have a mini man).

When I was a child, I too was a Girls Scout; preceded by Brownie and Pixie (now called Daisy). I loved it. We sang Christmas Carols to convalescent home elders, grew bean sprouts in a cup, sang songs (oh you know the ones), and sold cookies, lots and lots of cookies.

Then of course, we went to camp.

Camp was the beginning of the end for me. In the fourth grade I attended Girl Scout sleep away horse camp. That was a hard earned badge. I was cool with being away from my family for a week, I was cool with learning to saddle and bridle a horse, I was even cool with scooping the horse doo doo. What I was not cool with was sleeping in a bare bones structure, taking your life into your own hands when going to the showers, and bugs.

Effing nature.

Me before dinner.

Now I have a little peanut of my own, who is enjoying the Brownies. It fills me with pride to watch her participate in the same types of activities I did as a Girl Scout.

Until we had to go to camp.

I cannot tell you people the amount of anxiety I experienced leading up to the big day. I was worried about the bugs, someone getting hurt, and being in the middle of nowhere.

All of my fears came true.

The wasps were angry and on a mission. The daddy long legs decided my arm was an excellent place to just chill. And the amount of Band-Aids handed out that weekend could have swathed King Tut…twice.

What I did not expect was all the crying. Mostly done by me. Just kidding, not really. I cried on the inside. So many little girls crying. Crying for their parents, crying because so and so was not playing with them, crying because they were hungry (that got the most tears), or their legs hurt, or their arm hurt, or the hair follicles in their ears hurt. So. Much. Crying.

What I looked like during dinner.

At one point I looked over to my friend, another brave mama chaperoning with me, and said the words, “I wish I was a dude. I’m guessing the Cub Scouts don’t cry about sand in their shoes.” Then we went on to fantasize about all the beer and chips and dip we could consume if we had a tricked out RV. This only brought on more tears, from me.

While some of my worries were confirmed, what I did not expect were all the positives. The friendships formed, the camaraderie of the older Girl Scouts with our younger girls, and the general awe I developed for the amazing troop leaders who made this shin dig happen.

There were magical moments that lit up the adventure as well: S’mores by the fire; the flag retiring ceremony; finding the “beach” by the lake and creating castles, cheers, and shell habitats; sticks, sticks, and more sticks; night time skits and songs; and swapping trinkets.

While this old hag of a Girl Scout kissed the ground when I walked through the door of my home, I was happy to see my little Brownie grinning and shouting, “That was the best camping trip ever!”

And isn’t that what being a scout is all about. Togetherness? Fellowship? Learning and growing? All of the above were accomplished.

But next time I am bring my bug zapper … and a case of wine.