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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Am I Really Comparing Our Language Skills to a Strip Mall?

OMG! Girrrrrrrl, I’m just LMAO at the way her boobage is showing. Somebody give her a one-way ticket to knockerville.

This is how my mom talks.

Just kidding.

But seriously, this is how many Americans speak (and by many Americans, I mean me).  Are we really this lazy of a people that we have to make up words that are clearly not in the dictionary? Or create abbreviations because actually saying the words might take up to much oxygen?

Driving around town the other day, I noticed a plethora of strip malls. Now these shopping centers are pretty nice, utilizing the adobe roof tops and faux stucco walls saying, “Hey, we’re not really in the Mexican desert, but let’s just pretend while you drink your pumpkin spice latte while on Twitter.”  These convenient store locations are a quick in and out for what we need in life. It doesn’t take a lot of work to find, and or, purchase milk.

It makes one wonder, is our language reflected by our surroundings?

Remember the days when people referred to one another as “my lady” and “my lord?” Remember using thy, and thine, and ‘tis? When describing the sniffles, it was a , “blackness in the recess of my lovers darkest cavity.”  Remember? No, of course not. No one reading this was alive then. But that is how folks talked in those days, all the while wearing eighty-five petticoats and corsets, and looking through drapes made of heavy brocade.

The vernacular of Elizabethan times, of the turn of the century, of really, any other time before the 1960s, was      laced with, well, lace. They utilized flowering language to describe a sunset, a birth, or how the soup was cold at dinner. There were so many hidden doors in the old homes, just like there were so many hidden meanings in one’s speech. A person had to sit, digest the nuances, and then figure out if they were just insulted or complemented. It’s kind of like living in the south (just kidding).

Today we speak like strip mall edifices.  We are chock full of speedy, greasy speech, losing something important with its rapidity. As a society (and by society, I mean I totally do this. All.The.Time.) we are plagued with misspellings, abbreviations, and run on sentences – all of our own doing.

I am the first to say, I blow chunks when it comes to proper grammar.  To be honest, I enjoy sloppy word usage. Which makes sense because my clothes are wrinkled right now as I write this.

To drive home my point of the language = décor, let us open our eyes full of contacts and hearing clogged with ear-buds, and take a looksy around:

Abbreviations = Fast Food Joint – I know, I know, the majority of our abbreviations are utilized in texting, however, they too are used in speech. Look at the OMGs (Oh my God), Cra-Cra (crazy), and HAM (Hot A$$ Mess) to name a few.  We are telling each other that we don’t have the time to say all the words out loud (no time to cook), instead we are just going to say a few letters while cruising past you in the hallway (the drive thru). Most likely this will confuse one person while they try to decipher what was said (mystery meat?), and leave another a bit unsettled (indigestion).

Creating Words That Do Not Actually Exist = Tanning Salon & Cosmetic Surgery Clinic – I do this all the time. It’s kind of funny if you really think about it. Take the word irregardless, I’m pretty sure people started pushing super hard in every day speech to get it into the dictionary (for reals, check it out).  Saying words that are not actually words is like covering pale skin; we all know you are pasty white under there, nonetheless, we will enjoy your orange glow. Or like new boobs – not real, but fun for somebody.

Misspellings = Half-Lit Neon Gas Sign – There are probably twenty-eight misspelled words in this article. Yet I am still writing, and thankfully, you kind people are still reading. You know when you pull into a SHELL station and only a few letters are lit up, creating a HELL gas station. That’s a misspelled word – we all know what you mean, and we are still going to fill ‘er up, but do you really want to pull into that station again?

Speaking Quickly With Massive Hand Gestures = 7-11 Convenience Store – We have got to get it all in, and fast! I too enjoy driving home my point with some type of Richard Simmons hand calisthenics.  Think of rapid speech as a massive Big Gulp soda; you suck it down so fast you forget to breathe, realizing too late that you are wired, have a brain freeze, and have to pee. Too much talking can leave both parties a bit light-headed.

A study was conducted about the way we speak, text, and disregard the rules of writing. It was found (and I am paraphrasing here) that the written word will become extinct in one hundred years (or less). So what is the answer? Start speaking to your children in Shakespearean dialect? Maybe. Write, “I will not use abbreviations,” five hundred times on the blackboard? Doubtful.

Here’s something simple I like to do: read a book. Then keep that book made of paper and put it on the shelf to keep. Books use complete sentences and words, no half-words. It is something fun and relaxing and you might learn something new.

Then, when you are finished with your book, FB your BFF that you LOL’d at the hootchie protagonist named Prudence (gag – she was so not prudent!).