Aug 2010
YOUR UPCOMING SATURDAY NIGHT COULD BE WITH STANLEY SILVER
Looking for something new and cool to do this upcoming Saturday night? You are in Luck! The talented Stanley Silver will be showcasing his unique works of art this Saturday night in Culver City (invitation below). I was recently introduced to Stanley’s spirited paintings which celebrate pop culture and celebrity in a provocative, edgy, and mesmerizing way. ”Silver’s contemporary abstract style is juxtaposed with exquisite renderings of iconic figures stirring nostalgia, timelessness and pride in American culture.” The attention to detail and the way in which Stanley captures the personality of the subject through the mediums of oils and water colors is awe-inspiring. His interpretation of “The Glamorous Life” through his art is poignant, vibrant, and chic. Pay attention to details as there are hidden messages and symbols among the different layers. Don’t forget to make a dinner reservation for after the preview. Culver City is home to some of the hippest restaurants.
Aug 2010
MY SON’S FIRST (DATE)
Tonight was a milestone in the Lemonaid household. Husband scored two Lady Gaga tickets for me to invite anyone I wanted. The decision was easy. He is nearly 8 years old and has rockin dance moves. Most importantly, he is my son. Alerted only a few days earlier, my son had been bragging to his friends ever since. He had never been to a concert and I was thrilled to be his date. I could only hope that his Gaga concert date with Mom would be a fond memory like my first concert circa 1985 of Howard Jones. Sporting a new pair of black skinny jeans, he topped his look with a leather jacket, black loafers, and Kanye West sunglasses. Could you die? When he cruised down the stairs and said he was ready, my heart melted. My baby looked so handsome and grown up. I could see the years ahead on fast forward. At the concert, as good as Gaga was, I could not keep my eyes off of my little man as his little body grooved to the beat -while he covered his already ear-plugged ears. P.S. There were tons of kids at the Monster Ball tonight.
Aug 2010
LOVE IT
The Husband Store
A store that sells new husbands has opened in New York City , where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates:
You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the value of the products increase as the shopper ascends the flights. The shopper may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!
So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 – These men Have Jobs
She is intrigued, but continues to the second floor, where the sign reads:
Floor 2 – These men Have Jobs and Love Kids.
‘That’s nice,’ she thinks, ‘but I want more.’
So she continues upward. The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, and are Extremely Good Looking.
‘Wow,’ she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.
She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 4 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help With Housework.
‘Oh, mercy me!’ she exclaims, ‘I can hardly stand it!’
Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 5 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Gorgeous, Help with Housework, and Have a Strong Romantic Streak.
She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor, where the sign reads:
Floor 6 – You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.
PLEASE NOTE:
To avoid gender bias charges, the store’s owner opened a New Wives store just across the street.
The first floor has wives that love sex.
The second floor has wives that love sex and have money and like beer
The third, fourth, fifth and sixth floors have never been visited.
Aug 2010
MR. SWAGGER WEIGHS IN
(PS. Mr. Swagger is not HUSBAND. I have many male followers and one of them has generously offered to add perspective as a regular correspondent.)
About 10 years ago I was walking down the street in New York with a friend of mine who I have a tremendous amount of respect for. He literally would say “good morning” to nearly every person we walked by on the street. It was effortless, not strange, and it didn’t seem like he was going out of his way to do it either. I said “ do you realize that you’ve said “good morning” to almost every person that has walked by us today? He said, “Hmm, I guess I have, I don’t know… IT’S NICE TO BE NICE”… This is a tough dude too. In the same sentence, he can smile at you, he can smack you in the mouth. That said, an amazing man. Now that was probably the most simple thing I’ve ever heard but it’s also stuck with me more than anything I’ve heard since. Is it that hard to be nice to people? Don’t get me wrong, I can be a real prick, but I believe if I’m good to people, people are going to be good to me. Now.. what does this all mean? Imagine if we all took a little bit more time to be nice to people…. Say “good morning” when you walk by someone on the street, be nicer to the waiter making minimum wage, When you are at a red light and someone is standing there selling fruit.. Buy some! It doesn’t matter if you like fruit or not, its not about you, actually tip the person well that is washing your car (FACT: most people don’t at all), call your mom, help someone get a job, be happy for someone else’s success, feel badly for someone else’s misfortune, tell someone you appreciate them, say “have a nice night” to the garage attendant you usually walk by every evening and ignore as you are going to your car after work, Tell someone they look nice. I mean how basic is all the above? Truth is, nobody really does it, but we’re supposed to. We’re too focused on our blackberries, our ipads, our cell phones -OURSELVES. It’s something to think about. It can be contagious too. It doesn’t mean you don’t have an edge or are soft. I’m telling you…. IT’S NICE TO BE NICE- makes sense. Hope it does to you too or we’re all in trouble.
Aug 2010
SOCCER MAMAS
Big day at UCLA today! To the left were the coeds practicing cheers. To the right was the future of Soccer— our seven year old sons sweating their skull caps off in a week long Soccer camp hosted by UCLA. As I walked towards the field to attend the end of the session casual awards ceremony for camp participation, I was questioned by an imposing security guard. At that moment, a swarm of paparazzi appeared! Nearly trampled, I remarked to my friend that this camp sure knows how to make a kid feel good! And then lightning struck as we discovered that the crowds were not for our talented kids, but for the arrival of the Real Madrid team due to play a match on that same field. Sitting on the bleachers, the Soccer Mamas cheered for our children as they got their awards. I craned my head to check for the arrival of the Soccer god, Cristiano Ronaldo. My fellow hot mama and I were teasing each other and begging the security guards to send the soccer babes over to get some inspiration before the big match. No such luck and they whisked us all off the field before the arrival of the players. To top it off, neither of our boys were awarded top honors- no matter how low cut my friend’s shirt was.
Aug 2010
I SUCK AT EBAY
Husband worships EBAY and has had great success in finding suits, watches, and jeans. If there was ever an item that I coveted, he would place a conservative bid on my behalf under his account name. I had never explored EBAY solo until one fine day last week. I was sitting in the camp carpool line playing on the IPAD, specifically, the EBAY app. I stumbled upon an item that I HAD TO HAVE. After failing to encrypt husband’s pay pal account (and sneak a purchase), I tried to set up an account under my email. I was blocked immediately and informed that there was an existing account under my name. Odd right? Not only did husband refuse to share his passwords, he had also used my name to set up an account, thereby blocking me entirely from joining the ranks as an EBAY shopper. I was ticked off and then decided to go undercover with a new email account. HA! I was in! Let the games begin. I was hooked and spent many late hours of the last week surfing for vintage designer costume jewelry. (Husband is out of town) With time on my hands and no need to fear his budget conscious footsteps, I discovered the perfect necklace. Suddenly, I could not imagine my future outfits without this treasure. I had to have it. Now at this point, my EBAY experience had been limited to “buy it now items”. I had never been in a bidding war and was not prepared for the challenge. My strategy was to watch the screen like a hawk, keep my fingers poised over the keyboard, and bid aggressively. For three long days, I played the game. So much for instant gratification! There was several bidders but one real opponent. It was head to head every second. At this point, it no longer was about the necklace but about winning (kind of still about the necklace). I was way above my maximum but could not stop. I was an animal. Thank god husband was not in town witnessing this out of control behavior. The seconds were ticking, the kids were watching, and suddenly, the green turned to red. I had lost and was dumbfounded. The piece that was going to define my future look was no longer. As I licked my wounds, a new email popped into my inbox. I perked up, hoping it had been a mistake? Was I the winner? No such luck! It was Husband forwarding me the outbid notice that had been sent to his email. Oops, I forgot that I had convinced him to bid in the early stages. WTF were you thinking? He demanded when he saw the sold price? I was caught red handed and had nothing to show for it. Hoping one of my loyal followers won the coveted necklace. Losing to one of you would be okay but please share some pointers in mastering EBAY.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Aug 2010
HUSBAND IS THE NEW BACHELOR
NOT! This vision about killed me! Last night as I sat on the edge of my bed, anticipating who Ali was going to choose, Husband was teasing incessantly. ”you are dumbing yourself down, look at you- acting like you are about to be kissed for the first time…get a life!” I must say, I have always loved Roberto but Chris was beginning to make headway with me. I could see how torn Ali was and I felt her pain. Ultimately, her instinct won and she chose Roberto- may their love last a long time. As the show re-ran clips of their journey, I found myself salivating out loud about Roberto’s body. OMG! what a hottie- tall, dark, handsome, sick abs! I was hooked! Suddenly, I sensed movement to the left side of my peripheral vision. Mind you it was 11:00 pm at night! The lights were off and I was prepared to go to sleep once the show finished. I felt a whoosh of air and could not believe my eyes. Husband was standing upright, shirtless, and doing bicep curls. At this point, I was hysterical. ”honey, you are a babe, tire and all…. you are better than Roberto. In fact, forget Chris as the next Bachelor (spotted Chris and Bachelor producers and Chris Harrison at the Dodger game last week.) I think you should throw your hat in the ring.
Aug 2010
MISS BLONDIE
Dear Miss Blondie,
I am single trying to meet guys in LA. It’s really hard to meet men in this town. Any advice on ways to meet guys with out having to go to a cheesy club or bar?
From,
Desperately Seeking Susan
_________________________________________________________________________________
I can vividly remember being on the dating circuit. It is hard and frustrating. How tedious is it to sit on a painful date and repeat the same basic info that you supply on all first dates? college, major, family, past relationships etc. I mean, really, is it out of line to record the basic answers and play the recording at the table before ordering the main course. We all have some sort of video apparatus on our cell phones. Then after ordering, we can launch into favorite sex positions and the number of children we want. Kidding! Seriously, after every terrible date I had, my mother would respond the same way upon recap… Every day you wake up, love can be 24 hours away. So annoying but true! She would repeat that mantra date after date, day after day, week after week, and year after year until I met Husband. Wear your lipgloss, put an approachable smile on your face, and keep your eyes open even while at the car wash, market, Starbucks, etc. Your future love could be at every turn. Meeting potentials at bars is tough. I always found that set ups and blind dates held the most promise. If you do want to go out to to survey the possibilities, I always loved to round up my girls and go to places off the beaten track where there would be new people to meet. Restaurants with bar scenes (Bandera!) always seem to lure the after work crowd. A bit of liquid confidence if you must…
Aug 2010
INTERESTING….
July 30, 2010
I Tweet, Therefore I Am
By PEGGY ORENSTEIN
On a recent lazy Saturday morning, my daughter and I lolled on a blanket in our front yard, snacking on apricots, listening to a download of E. B. White reading “The Trumpet of the Swan.” Her legs sprawled across mine; the grass tickled our ankles. It was the quintessential summer moment, and a year ago, I would have been fully present for it. But instead, a part of my consciousness had split off and was observing the scene from the outside: this was, I realized excitedly, the perfect opportunity for a tweet.
I came late to Twitter <http://topics.nytimes.com/top/news/business/companies/twitter/index.html?inline=nyt-org> . I might have skipped the phenomenon altogether, but I have a book coming out this winter, and publishers, scrambling to promote 360,000-character tomes in a 140-character world, push authors to rally their “tweeps” to the cause. Leaving aside the question of whether that actually boosts sales, I felt pressure to produce. I quickly mastered the Twitterati’s unnatural self-consciousness: processing my experience instantaneously, packaging life as I lived it. I learned to be “on” all the time, whether standing behind that woman at the supermarket who sneaked three extra items into the express check-out lane (you know who you are) or despairing over human rights abuses against women in Guatemala.
Each Twitter post seemed a tacit referendum on who I am, or at least who I believe myself to be. The grocery-store episode telegraphed that I was tuned in to the Seinfeldian absurdities of life; my concern about women’s victimization, however sincere, signaled that I also have a soul. Together they suggest someone who is at once cynical and compassionate, petty yet deep. Which, in the end, I’d say, is pretty accurate.
Distilling my personality provided surprising focus, making me feel stripped to my essence. It forced me, for instance, to pinpoint the dominant feeling as I sat outside with my daughter listening to E.B. White. Was it my joy at being a mother? Nostalgia for my own childhood summers? The pleasures of listening to the author’s quirky, underinflected voice? Each put a different spin on the occasion, of who I was within it. Yet the final decision (“Listening to E.B. White’s ‘Trumpet of the Swan’ with Daisy. Slow and sweet.”) was not really about my own impressions: it was about how I imagined — and wanted — others to react to them. That gave me pause. How much, I began to wonder, was I shaping my Twitter feed, and how much was Twitter shaping me?
Back in the 1950s, the sociologist Erving Goffman famously argued that all of life is performance: we act out a role in every interaction, adapting it based on the nature of the relationship or context at hand. Twitter has extended that metaphor to include aspects of our experience that used to be considered off-set: eating pizza in bed, reading a book in the tub, thinking a thought anywhere, flossing. Effectively, it makes the greasepaint permanent, blurring the lines not only between public and private but also between the authentic and contrived self. If all the world was once a stage, it has now become a reality TV show: we mere players are not just aware of the camera; we mug for it.
The expansion of our digital universe — Second Life, Facebook <http://topics.nytimes.com/top/news/business/companies/facebook_inc/index.html?inline=nyt-org> , MySpace <http://topics.nytimes.com/top/news/business/companies/myspace_com/index.html?inline=nyt-org> , Twitter — has shifted not only how we spend our time but also how we construct identity. For her coming book, “Alone Together,” Sherry Turkle, a professor at M.I.T. <http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/organizations/m/massachusetts_institute_of_technology/index.html?inline=nyt-org> , interviewed more than 400 children and parents about their use of social media and cellphones. Among young people especially she found that the self was increasingly becoming externally manufactured rather than internally developed: a series of profiles to be sculptured and refined in response to public opinion. “On Twitter or Facebook you’re trying to express something real about who you are,” she explained. “But because you’re also creating something for others’ consumption, you find yourself imagining and playing to your audience more and more. So those moments in which you’re supposed to be showing your true self become a performance. Your psychology becomes a performance.” Referring to “The Lonely Crowd,” the landmark description of the transformation of the American character from inner- to outer-directed, Turkle added, “Twitter is outer-directedness cubed.”
The fun of Twitter and, I suspect, its draw for millions of people, is its infinite potential for connection, as well as its opportunity for self-expression. I enjoy those things myself. But when every thought is externalized, what becomes of insight? When we reflexively post each feeling, what becomes of reflection? When friends become fans, what happens to intimacy? The risk of the performance culture, of the packaged self, is that it erodes the very relationships it purports to create, and alienates us from our own humanity. Consider the fate of empathy: in an analysis of 72 studies performed on nearly 14,000 college students between 1979 and 2009, researchers at the Institute for Social Research at the University of Michigan <http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/organizations/u/university_of_michigan/index.html?inline=nyt-org> found a drop in that trait, with the sharpest decline occurring since 2000. Social media may not have instigated that trend, but by encouraging self-promotion over self-awareness, they may well be accelerating it.
None of this makes me want to cancel my Twitter account. It’s too late for that anyway: I’m already hooked. Besides, I appreciate good writing whatever the form: some “tweeple” are as deft as haiku masters at their craft. I am experimenting with the art of the well-placed “hashtag” myself (the symbol that adds your post on a particular topic, like #ShirleySherrod, to a stream. You can also use them whimsically, as in, “I am pretending not to be afraid of the humongous spider on the bed. #lieswetellourchildren”).
At the same time, I am trying to gain some perspective on the perpetual performer’s self-consciousness. That involves trying to sort out the line between person and persona, the public and private self. It also means that the next time I find myself lying on the grass, stringing daisy chains and listening to E. B. White, I will resist the urge to trumpet about the swan.
Peggy Orenstein is a contributing writer. Her book “Cinderella Ate My Daughter” will be published this winter
Jul 2010
GINA MARI: A VACATION FOR THE FACE…
Meet Gina Marí, the face goddess! And it doesn’t hurt that she is gorgeous herself – flawless skin, youthful, dewy, and refreshed looking. Sign me up, I want to look just like her. I want my skin to glisten and my face to look like I just returned from holiday.
I have heard about the wonders of Gina Marí forever but never made an appointment because facials were never high on my list. I have sensitive skin and was never excited about spending money on facials and massages. Finally, I was convinced to spend a few hours with Gina and can not believe that I did not succumb
earlier. Her philosophy is simple: skin should breathe and the no make-up look is better. This was announced to me as she vigorously scrubbed the foundation from my face! Many of us feel that make-up is a necessity to cover up unsightly dark spots, melasma, wrinkles, and other imperfections. What she explained to me is that all of those skin conditions can be improved and sometimes resolved by following an individual and custom skin regime thereby removing the need to wear covering make-up at all.
After suffering from adult acne herself, Gina entered this field with the universal hope of wanting to make people feel pretty and good about themselves from the inside out. Gina is confident that her methods can change the current state of the skin for the better. What I loved most was that every technique Gina performed on me was nothing that I had ever experienced in any other spa setting. More, she utilizes techniques that one can not do on their own time at home. Each client’s individual hour and a half appointment is never the same. Instead, Gina urges her clients to visit on a monthly basis so that as the face is changing, new techniques can be used accordingly. While I was in her chair, Gina gave a me a sampling of many of her methods, and I walked out positively glowing. Hopefully, I will bump into some of you when I show up for my second session with Gina.
Each specialized treatment is custom-designed to clients’ individual skincare needs, using progressive methods to erase the physical manifestations of aging and/or the effects of acne. Incorporating the most prestigious skin solutions, including LED photomodulation, Dry and Wet Dermabrasion, Pure Oxygen and more, Gina effectively re-energizes aging and damaged skin by stimulating cellular regeneration from deep within the tissue. The result is hydrated, glowing skin without an ounce of make-up.” www.ginamari.com
