I about to go all postal on Spring.
One day the crocuses arrive. HOORAY!
Then a week of bitter cold and wind.
A day of 60+ F weather. YAY!
And 2 and half weeks of ambivalent snow flurries, sleet and rain….
By now I’m sure Mother Nature wants a pound of flesh, which I have plenty (ready to negotiate when you are Madame Nature!) Just. Make. It. Stop.
I know, I know. The wimpy California girl in the Northeast can’t hack it, but I lived about half my life out here and this seems an especially tough winter by even the hardy native standards.
So take the pound(s) of flesh, preferably off my backside, if this will make it stop.
Seems fair trade – I’d look better in the bikini at least.
Oh and because I loved it so- here’s the Trailer for “Get Shorty”.
Got to rent that again….
The Business of Life is sometimes about … the minuses that go with the pluses of life.
My friend Kate once said she wanted to be like Mariah Carey– it’s rumored she has her own personal “lighting crew” to make sure that she always looks her best. Wherever she goes. Ladies, we all know what she’s talking about — one trip to try on bathing suits at Macy’s and you come face-to-face with the damn fluorescents that add a 10 lbs and, how to do we say this? , a few more ripples where we were once smooth. It’s enough to make you throw swear off Lycra and don the free-flowing freedom of a Mrs. Roper (oh, go Google “Three’s Company” if you don’t know) miu miu!
And now there’s Apple’s Facetime…
Oh My God. Say hello to Facetime?
Oh, I think not.
I can tell you, unless you’re 25 or a man, Facetime is not kind.
In fact I’d prefer the Macy’s cubicle of self-loathing. The hubby usually likes to Facetime me to say “good-night” to the kids. It’s usually 6pm, and I’ve been kid-wrangling for at least 8 hours. The make-up has melted off, the hair disheveled, I feel more Medusa than the Hot, Haute Missus at this point.
Facetime doesn’t have good light.
So crappy I look, and that little picture-in-picture? A confidence-maker it is not.
Consider this a plea, or outright begging, for the rest of us that are not super-models or 20, for Apple to make some decent lighting to go with their HD Facetime.
Oh I forgot! Yes, you read that right, Facetime is in HIGH DEFINITION. Large pore, crow-feet lovin’ zit-tastic High-Def!
So perhaps I should add the addendum to my request — in addition to better lighting, how about some sort of Auto-Photoshopping/air-brushing?
Shave off some years, clean up the racoon-eyes, freshen up the skin.
I AM the hot, haute Missus again!
Apple- Give me the Face to go with the Time!
The Business of Life mourns with, and for, the people of Japan.
I was once the reluctant exchange student. To Japan.
I wanted to go to Germany. At sixteen, the prospect of drinking beer openly and freely on a boondoggle of a summer excursion was, needless to say, tempting. But that particular summer, a few nasty bombers blew up some clubs where Americans like to hang-out, and my mom, hip to my ways, made a strategic decision to send me to the Land of Rising Sun. My father, a huge Japanophile, just wished he could hitch a ride…
Did you know you can buy beer there on the sidewalk, in vending machines?
Did you also know, your average 16 year-old American teenager is mistaken for a 22 year-old all the time.
ALL. THE. TIME.
So after initially hating it, I came to embrace Japan.
And then her people and history.
Sure the prospect of having fun (and I did let me tell you) was my mind’s entrée into Japan, it was the catalyst for my growing-up — the moment that you see outside of just you, your needs and wants, and start connecting with the cosmos. Appreciate.
I guess I really started to “see”.
A true “A-ha!” moment at its goofy best, I saw Japan as so full of wonder and possibility:
These people are lovely and kind.
These people worship beauty in the simple.
These people think of others before themselves.
These people “feast with their eyes first, then with the mouth,” as one of my host grand-father once said. Beauty is a valued part of every day action and activity.
These people have great electronics. Oh yeah.
So to wake-up to a Japan torn by quake and tsunami was… heart-breaking. They believed long ago that the islands of Japan rode on the back a giant catfish named Namazu, and when the fish thrashed about, the land shook.
It thrashed today.
I pray for them.
I pray for my lovely host families. I pray for my business school friends from Japan. I hope they are safe. I pray for the people of Japan and the surrounding areas affected.
To help, check out USA Today’s page on “How to help the victims of the Japanese Earthquake,” with links to Red Cross and other organizations that are on-site right now, helping.
The Business of Life is saying… WTF?
Ever since Giselle came into the picture Tom Brady has been on the slippery slope to being… this. The pony-tail wearing dude. SBnation.com blogger Spencer Hall tweeted – and this is the best one thus far – “Tom Brady with a ponytail is two agelines and going commando in pajama pants away from being a creepy pottery instructor.”
Perfect. This is EXACTLY what you want when you’re a pro-athlete, who likes diversified revenue streams.
So please Giselle, bring the old Tom back. If not for the faithful New England fans that, well, really don’t understand ponytails and salsa dancing, or even the hoards of female fans who miss clean-cut Brady, but for your bottom-line. The cash.
The man, though a star, is not hot anymore. Hot lookin’ pro-players are like hot models — people book them more. You can understand that, right Giselle? Tom, for most of his fan base, is no longer the young, cool boy-next-door that men what to have a beer with or women want to have beer licked off of them by.
He’s turning into the creepy pottery instructor.
Nobody buys crap from the creepy pottery instructor.
Not even crappy pottery.
It may not happen right now, Lord knows those sport agents built those contracts out for longevity — short of being caught with 28 mistresses — but it will happen. Soon. More so if he gets injured.
Le sigh… Ok peeps, I’ve tried my best. Perhaps La Giselle will take note.
Just in case you need help remembering, here’s what he used to look like:
Consider it a freebie. On the house. Consider it like a guide or blueprint. Whatever Giselle, take the advice that seems no one has the heart to tell you (or you can’t understand? Is it a language barrier issue?) — tell the dude to put that “Pony” in the wood-chipper. Goodness knows, that man isn’t going to tell you, he’s in full worship mode of his incredibly hot mega-model wife. No one can blame him. Really. He’s reeks “good boy” (though there is some debate as to whether he reeks now, he does look a little greasy…)
Ciao for now,
P.S. No dancing either. That video of you is totally “white-man overbite” and… is so not helping.
SO. NOT. HELPING.
(Heeyyyy, I JUST noticed that in the first picture and video, Brady is sponsored by Oral-B. Teeth. Not very sexy sponsor. A hair’s breath from dentures really. Quinky-dink? Perhaps.)
The Business of Life is… fighting the good fight.
It’s about righting the equation between women and men. Equal pay for equal work, the right for women to feel safe, get an education and just treated in manner that is fair. Not too much to ask, for Annie this is a Brava! for the Diva.
And there is no better person than James Bond to deliver it. This is a clever ad and it’s delivered beautifully.
Bravo for Daniel Craig for being up for the challenge– it was an inspired choice to use his most famous character to deliver the message, and an extra super bonus to have Dame Judi Dench for the voice over.
Annie, Daniel, Judi and WeAreEquals– you rock.
The Business of Life ponders the age-old question… are you good or lucky?
I once had a curmudgeonly Business school professor that barked the question, often, “Soooo… are you good or just lucky?”
Usually to me. And I think I was quite often the latter. (I know false modesty, but it felt appropriate at this point.)
As I watch my twins grow, their personalities so very distinct — almost to the extreme — I see this come into play, but in an different way ….
Do you learn the easy or the hard way?
I mean how many times do you need to make a mistake for it to take and it not be repeated? Or do you absorb advice and circumvent the mistake in the first place?
Do you learn the hard way? The easy way? Are you receptive to critique?
For full disclosure I’m the hard way. Younger I was hated criticism, I took it personally. ”I’ll do it myself” was a classic Betsy-ism: I rebuked help and taught myself how to swim at four. But I also am a late bloomer most senses of the word. I could have spare myself a great deal of pain, frustration and set-backs had I been even a wee-bit more receptive and acute. One of my children is this to the extreme — and it is pure nature. Super-über responsible from birth, a genius at social cues– and super sensitive, giving and tentative to a fault. She slows down, looks then carefully steps over to the safest spot. My other is hard all the way, but completely fearless, creative problem-solver and mad fun. He runs, leaping gleefully into the abyss. He’ll figure it out along the way.
Good or Lucky? Hard or Easy? The jury is out here. I believe that per the personality, there is optimal balance to be sought. Time and experiences are the teachers here. I think my job is to make sure my daughter pushes her comfort zone to take the chances making up the joy/excitement of being alive and to make sure my son doesn’t not push too hard (e.g. stay alive, not too-terribly banged up).
I watch with interest…
Sometimes The Business of Life is… getting back to “normal.”
Just a quick post. Nothing much to report.
Actually, I lie — there is a lot — just not much in me to report it.
When we returned from California after the funeral, everyone was ill. Everyone. Actually most were ill the entire time and the kids still seem so.
Needless to say, I’ve been playing catch up and though the ideas to write about, things I’d like to share keep rolling in, I just haven’t been up to actually put hands on Nigel.
(Before y’all get flustered, Nigel is my sweet and faithful MacBook.)
I’ve been walking by him, ignoring him outside surfing Perez Hilton, ordering birthday party gifts and booking my kids birthday party at someplace that has a zillion trampolines. Seriously… they do Dodgeball with trampolines!
The journey back starts with a step and so I post.