Smile, You're on Candid Camera!

I am a sucker for reality TV. I know there are people out there who hate it, but I just eat it up. If it can't be reality, then give me faux reality like The Office. I love it I love it I love it. So last night I watched the season finale of The Bachelor. He picked the girl-next-door (literally) kinda boring, sorta attractive, definitely stable girl as opposed to the California-based, adventurous, too-deep-for-her-own-good basket case. I didn't see the spark between the Bach and the girl he picked, but editing is a surefire way to trick the viewers and keep us coming back for more. Who doesn't love the bad girl, when it comes to shows like this.

Now, as much as I love reality TV, I would NEVER subject myself to that kind of humiliation. Unless, of course, it meant going on The Amazing Race... a show like that, I'd do in a heartbeat. But The Bachelor... I mean, how humiliating. It's embarrassing enough to go on a first date... the awkwardness, the judgmentalness, the uncertainty... but then to do it in front of a camera for all the world to see. Fine, chalk it up to a once-in-a-lifetime thing. But even the toughest chick will get a chink in her armor when dumped on national television - it pretty much sucks for everyone to see you get booted off a cheesey reality show. Why do these women do it? And then get caught up in it so badly that they end up crying to the camera during their final limo ride back to their REAL real world... "I just don't understand! I feel so stupid! Why didn't he pick me??? What's wrong with me?!!"

Well, I have an idea of what's wrong with you. You are on a show in which you are trying to find love thru competition. You are hoping for the fantasy dates and the home town dates because then you have a couple more hours to get to know this person (who you will, of course, fall in love with because you are that predictable) and hopefully will end up getting another rose in the process, which you will happily accept. I want to see the person who is given a rose but decides that they don't really like the guy after all. Seriously, how the hell can 25 women all feel the same for one guy? So next time, to the girl who almost gets picked, in the limo ride home, smile and say "I did it all for my 15-minutes of fame. I didn't really like him anyway. And he's not that cute in person and kind of has bad breath." Because if you look like a psycho-chick who is devastated by some guy you barely know, it's gonna be even harder for you to find a post-Bachelor boyfriend.

Oh, FYI: I liked Moana, and am glad that stick-in-the-mud Travis didn't pick her.

Living Large

As a thirty-something living in Manhattan, success is measured not by your actual salary, but by how much money you have left to spend on entertainment AFTER you pay your rent or apartment mortgage. The range is wide, from those living paycheck to paycheck just hoping to make rent for the month, to the other folks who make a ton of money and could pay their annual rent in one lump sum if they desired and still have money to spend on the best restaurants in the city.

Regardless of where you fall, there comes a time in your life, most likely (based on statistics), when you will need more living space. It's common knowledge that NYC apartments do not look like the one depicted on Friends, but more like the one that Seinfeld inhabited. More space means more money. So what do you do when you are considering upgrading to a two-bedroom and are part of the group of people who has little money left after paying rent on a pretty decently-priced one-bedroom? You consider, GULP, moving out of the city! Maybe not that far out... one of the outer boroughs, perhaps. Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx (not Staten Island, though) - - but there are also the other options... Long Island, Westchester, Upstate. When Jersey is no longer a dirty word, you know a line has been crossed.

I guess you know you're a grown-up when you visit your friend who is temporarily housed in a Brooklyn two-bedroom (HUGE 2BR with many closets!) and you immediately can see yourself there, planning on baby #1, making the god-awful commute into work every morning and night. And when not just you are feeling this way, but your significant other, as well!!!! God damn it... I'm not ready for the mini-van and mom jeans and play dates and organic foods... but I sure am ready for a walk-in closet!

A 14-Year-Old Boy at Heart

I miss the days of being young, getting pirated floppy discs from my male cousins which contained tons of great games to play on my Commodore 64. Jumpman. Mystery at Marple Manor. Bruce Lee. I used to get yelled at by my mom constantly to "go outside and play!". But riding my bike was not as much fun. I wanted to jerk on that joystick all day long (get your minds out of the gutter... I am a girl and my jerking on joysticks was just that) until eventually I wouldn't be able to move left.

After the Commodore became obsolete and we moved onward and upward to Calecovision (how do you even spell that... argh, who cares... Atari was better) with the slow-moving tanks and little fighter planes and finally to Nintendo, I was so hooked on The Legend of Zelda, that I would forego sleep to try and bomb walls and find more secret entrances. I loved that game so much, and still long to play it now. My brother's stepson has the latest and greatest games but, hope as I may as I rummaged through his stack of games that he would have it, they are all sports or hunting based. No interest for a girl like me who just wants to gather jewels, buy things and find labryinths.

So I searched and searched the web, hoping somewhere there was a Zelda clone resembling the world I loved so much. I did find the exact Jumpman, playable only on PC (doesn't help me much b/c though I have both a mac and pc at work, I only have a mac at home... can't very well be seen playing videogames in my corporate world!) Oh, just to be back there, where things are easy, even when they are complex. No shooting cops or deer or hoops... just collecting and searching and discovering the wonderful world inside that luminous screen. Sigh...

Please Support Me

I don't want to work anymore. I want to quit my job and spend my days running around the city, going to yoga and browsing the bookstore, and my evenings in my apartment, cooking up exotic dishes, waiting for the hubby to come home from work. Candles lit. Music playing. A glass of wine in my hand.

I mean, I feel like I've been working FOREVER. I was babysitting at 13 and got my first real job at 15 or 16, to pay for gas for my first car. Worked through college, to pay for beer and worked the summers between. Got a job immediately after graduating. Never got to take the summer off to go and tour Europe. Never even went away on Spring Break. So I need ... I DESERVE... some time off!

But the problem is, the more money you make, the more you spend. Then you get used to living a certain way and need to support your newfound lifestyle. I would die without my paycheck. So I am making a change... I am moving into a different department here at my company. I will work normal hours (10-6... YIPPEE!!!!) and will no longer make overtime. So, yes, there will be a pay cut but I will have my nights back. I will be able to make plans with my friends and not have to cancel all the time. I will still be getting a paycheck and my benefits and vacation time will all remain the same. I will be working on a MAC, which, in all seriousness, is all that truly matters to me.

And, maybe next year, I will quit for good. Is 35 too young to retire?

Why Do I Care?

I heard that TomKat may have split up. That makes me happy. Perhaps I am evil... (after all, I do enjoy it when the ice skaters at the Olympics fall, even if they are on the USA Team. Evil.)

But more importantly, regardless of whether I'm happy that TomKat is over, the question is, why the hell do I care? Who are these people to me, and why should it affect my life. But it does! I am eagerly awaiting the trashy mags to come out with their "exclusive" stories. If they are truly not over, I will be pissed off. It's a psychological disorder, no? I will watch reality television as if I am part of the show. The Amazing Race fills me with anxiety and excitement and I can feel my legs twitching as if I am the one running to the finish line. If the snotty team wins, I am upset for a couple of days.

What does this say about me? Is my life so empty that the lives of celebs and pseudo-celebs is all I have to focus on? My hubby thinks it's pathetic, as I sit there devouring my glossy pages, crumbs all over my sweater. But I live for it... talk to me about Britney and Kevin or the newest cast of the Real World. Shock me with information about Brangelina. Give it to me, any which way because I need to know... I don't know why... I just do!

Valentine Schmalentine

I do not like Valentine's Day. I never have. Could be that I spent most of my life being single, hoping the boy I liked would slip a Snoopy card into my cubby box when I was young and hoping, as I got older, that I would get surprise flowers from a secret admirer. Those things never happened. Even later in life, sitting at my corporate job, I would hear the squeals of delight from the women around me as they received their bouquets of flowers from their admirers and could feel my hatred for this "holiday" grow. It was like the popular kids are still popular and thrive on days such as V-day to keep their already-swollen ego stroked. And people like me sit and grow bitter. I am not bitter - I just refuse to subscribe to the mush mentality that takes over on February 14th.

Now that I am married, I told my husband when we met that I am not into Valentine's Day. If he'd like to get me a card, that was fine, but I don't need chocolates or dinner or flowers. I don't want to sit in an over-crowded restaurant , or to be the person who gets the biggest bouquet of over-priced roses with the biggest teddy bear clutching a satin heart. I like chocolate but don't need a huge heart-filled box of candy that isn't even that great (why do they stuff chocolate w/ orange and pink creams... but I digress.)

In addition, even though February 14 marks one month since our wedding, I do not celebrate those kinds of anniversaries either... our anniversary is the day we got married. That is it. My calendar is not marked with "day we met", "day we kissed", "day we first ate lobster together" anniversaries. When people ask us how long we've been together, the hubby and I stare at each other with pleading eyes, hoping the other has some clue. Um, three years? That seems about right. But don't let my cynicism ruin your day... go out, have fun and enjoy your $400 dinner. XOXO

Cleaning Up

This is a note to the manufacturers of public bathroom faucets, especially those in large corporate environments, such as my office: I am a big girl now and can turn water on and off all by myself. I can adjust hot and cold water to get it to be the exact temperature I want. I use know how to use the pump soap and shut the water off when I am finished.

That being cleared up, PLEASE get rid of the little push button faucet knobs. They don't dispense nearly enough water for me to clean the soap bubbles away and it is really awkward for me to use my elbow to continuously push it down until I have finally achieved the task at hand. Also, I won't waste paper towels so it's okay to leave the paper dispenser. I like having a choice of the air blower or the paper towels for drying purposes. Sometimes the air dryers just take too long.

Believe me, I know there are a lot of other grown-ups out there who do not follow proper bathroom etiquette, and may use too many paper towels, or keep the water running. I, too, believe in conservation and saving the environment. But those damn push button faucets have got to go... I'll even give you the air dryer (but can you make it the super-duper one that dries my hands in about a second? I love those!!!)

You Can't Handle the Truth

Having been on quite a few interviews in my time, and getting back into the swing of it recently, a question comes to mind. How truthful are we expected to be? For example, everyone knows to lie about their salary. If you can, lie about your experience. Don't lie about your education or references. But what about those gray-area questions? "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?", "What are your greatest strengths?" and my favorite "What are your weaknesses?" The last one is the one I will delve into here today.

They don't want the truth. Why ask it? To test my lying ability? Well, here it is... my flaws laid down on the table: Everything I feel is written all over my face at any given moment. That means if you piss me off, you will know it. If I don't like you, you will know it. If you do something idiotic that I find to be humorous, you'll be sure to know it. I also can cop an attitude. If you piss me off or if I have not yet eaten lunch and it is four in the afternoon, I may not be nice to you. If you perpetually annoy me, I will turn into the 12-year-old girl that I was, and be fighting with you as if you were my own mother during those tumultous teen-age years. I like egg salad, even though it smells up the entire office. I use the word "like" a lot and sometimes curse - I feel it makes me edgy. I dress like I'm going to see a college band perform at the local bar. I get looped at office parties. I talk about people behind their backs. I watch reality TV.

Now that you know all my flaws, would YOU hire me? Exactly! So, as far an any future employer is concerned, I have no flaws. I am eternally shiny happy sunshine worker-bee. Now give me some candy!