Octo-Mom Gets Down & Dirty For Cheap (and I'm Happy About It)

According to Radar Online, Nadya Suleman (aka “The Octo-Mom”) spends over $500 a year on her gym membership.  This has at least a few people in an uproar, seeing as she was photographed heading to the gym yesterday- moments after filing for bankruptcy.  Me?  I’m proud of her busting a move at a measly 10 bucks a week.

First of all, she lives outside of Los Angeles, home of the world’s most extravagant gyms/beauty pageants.  While I’d like to reveal what I pay for my own gym membership, I can’t, because I don’t have one.  BUT, I know several people that pay upwards of $200 a month for theirs.  ($40/month suddenly seems like a bargain, right?)

(totally stolen from Maritza Lugo,  @Polaroid_Rage)

Secondly, I should hope that any single mother of fourteen children is doing all she can to preserve her health and well-being.  The longer those hungry, misbehaved and Nickelodeon addicted children remain their mother’s responsibility, the better… right?  (Or wrong?  I'm actually unsure about this one...)

Lastly, Suleman receives government assistance to care for her children.  Welfare helps put food on her table, and common sense suggests that she receives state benefits for medical costs.  So, shouldn’t it then be her duty to care for herself to the best of her ability?

Most importantly… anytime that she spends NOT pro-creating seems time well-spent to me.  

Mr. Dick Clark, Kevin Bacon & Me

I am incredibly saddened by the fact that the older our children become, the harder it will be for them to play The Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Honestly, I have never struggled with Kevin Bacon-ing myself.  I even have options.

Option 1:

My sister’s favorite elementary school teacher went to her high school prom with Kevin Bacon.  Total home run.

Option 2:

While living in LA, I lived right next door to Anthony Denison, who starred in The Closer with Kyra Sedgwick, who is married to Kevin Bacon.

Option 3:

Lastly, I share a shoe closet with Sarah Jessica Parker, who starred in Footloose with the Baconator.  (Ok… that is a blatant lie, but the connection I most wish was legit.)

In keeping with the true nature of the game, the idea is to connect people in the entertainment industry to Kevin Bacon via their film roles.  Seeing as I have had a limited number of appearances on camera, this becomes a bit more difficult.  But I can do it.

One of my first jobs in Los Angeles was on a talk show called The Other Half, and I was often used as the guinea big during a makeover or fashion show.  At the height of my on-camera career, I did a fabulous bit with Carrot Top.  No joke.

(Moving on...)

Dick Clark was a co-host on that show, and I was honored to share a stage with him.  Interestingly, he is also the key to my Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.  Here’s how.

Option 4:

I was on The Other Half with Dick Clark.

Dick Clark was in Confessions of a Dangerous Mind with George Clooney.

George Clooney was in The Thin Red Line with Sean Penn…

... and Sean Penn was in Mystic River with Kevin Bacon.

Thanks for the memories, Mr. Clark.  And, thanks for giving me one of Hollywood’s Sexiest Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon!

Mindy Kaling Made Me Do This

I loved Mindy Kaling's book, "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)".  She dedicates a chapter to the (self-proclaimed) narcissistic photos on her BlackBerry, which I loved.  As a token of my appreciation for her, and for you, I am totally copying her fab idea.

Welcome to the first installment of "My Life: According To My Media Card":

I have a cotton ball phobia, and literally thought someone was trying to kill me.

Anyone who says they don't take douchey self-portraits on the reg is lying.

A proud, proud day. 

Yes: I FatBoothed my daughter.  Don't hate.

Speaking of fat, this shot of Britney made me feel really, really good about myself.

#YouKnowYouLiveInLAIf

No, I am not tripping.  I am at The Children's Museum.

Funny... if it were on his inner thigh.

Texted to my sister with, "good outfit, right?"

Love...

Opinions & Assholes

It’s true what they say.  Opinions are like assholes.  Everyone has one.   I’ve got no problem with that.  My complaint is that though everyone has an asshole, I don’t want to hear about it, and certainly don’t want to be reminded of it over and over again.  Often times, I feel the same way about opinions.

I recently chatted with a co-worker who said her four year old received this in a birthday party goodie bag.

After confirming that the goodies were not from Amanda Bynes, I quickly launched into a tirade about how I would freak the f-out if my daughter ever received the same.  I would have called the parents, the pre-school teacher and the pediatrician.  Hell, I would have called Dr. Drew.

Come to find out, my co-worker did nothing but throw them away before her child had a chance to see them.  In that moment, I learned she and I were as different as Sandra Dee in the beginning and end of Grease.  I shut my mouth and went back to my office, craving a candy cig and wishing I had shiny pleather spandex.

The next day, my eight year old Rhodesian Ridgeback was diagnosed with cancer.  Having lost our young Rottweiler to cancer just a few months ago, this was another devastating blow.  Heartfelt talk of treatment options became heated debates with tears.  Hours later, I was no more sure if I had made the right decision than Kim Kardashian was when she walked down the aisle.

(What's wrong with this picture?)

Then, just as I had voiced my rage over the poor choice in goodie bag treat, someone voiced rage with regard to my choice of treatment.  And, it wasn’t the wholesome version of Sandra Dee.  Even worse.  It was my sister.

I’ve thought a lot about her opinion since, and why it infuriated me as it did.  Though part of my anger was in her choice of words, part was in hearing someone’s opinion in stark contrast to my own, with regard to something I took so personally.

I have learned a valuable lesson since.  I like to think that I welcome the opinions of others, but have come to learn that I welcome them more when they are somewhat similar to my own.  So yes, opinions are like assholes, and everyone has one.  But there are times that you shouldn’t talk about yours until you are asked to. 

My New Office Has A Secret Stash of Holy Water

There are many perks to working as a freelance television producer, one of which is the ability to work with many fascinating people in different offices throughout your career.  Ironically, one of the downsides is also the ability to work with many fascinating people in different offices throughout your career.

I am usually a good judge of character, but when I started this new gig* a few weeks ago, my initial assessment of the office environment left me running for the unemployment office. 

* (a gig is a job in the entertainment industry, but also an acronym for the Gluten Intolerance Group)

First, there was this.

Then, this.

I started to question-- you kiss your mother, life partner, boyfriend, girlfriend, boss & sugar momma all with that mouth?

Then finally, something positive.

Thank God.  They have bagels.

But, the best was yet to come.  As a producer excused herself from my office to run and grab a Holy Water, I watched her step over into a supply closet, and exit with the aforementioned Diet Coke.  As it turns out, thankfully, the kitchen wallpapered with passive aggression was for a different show.

I am excited about my new project, it's staff, and it's makeshift kitchen.  Can't wait to share more of it with all of you.

Yes, Women Thought George Michael Was Hot

It freaks me out to think how different the world will be for my children than it was for me.  For better or worse, here are some expressions that were so commonly heard in my childhood that will never be heard in theirs.

Mom, where are my Freezy Freakies?

Oh Shit, it’s Friday! I need to get to the bank before it closes or we won’t have any money for the weekend!

Page me.

No doy!

Who do you think shot J.R.?

Saturday Night Live is hilarious.

Do you have total phone?

George Michael is SO sexy! (spoken by a woman)

I cannot wait for Michael Jackson’s ‘Bad’ Tour.

  

    Can I borrow your Word Processor?

That bathroom is so gross it could give you AIDS.

I totally want Ross to hook up with Rachel.

 A black President?  Yeah, right.

Where’s the beef?

 Be kind.  Please Rewind.

Those Benetton ads are so offensive!

      If you are as old as I am, you know the list goes on and on... as does the time.  It is important for us to live in and embrace the present, but to cherish the past makes the journey into the future all the more worthwhile.  I look back because it enables me to look ahead. 

I'd Eat My Own Placenta If It'd Stop Me From Looking Like Phil Spector

Many years ago, my sister-in-law talked me into using a placenta-based hair treatment.  I gagged as I put it on my head, envisioning tiny babies nursing my locks back to their full potential.  Crazy hallucinations aside, I knew even then that looking good takes work.  I had also grown up with the Pantene ad campaign “Don’t hate me because I’m Beautiful”, and of course everyone wanted that gig.  So, I sucked it up.

Because my hair looked like this:

I tried this:

And as a result, I looked like this:

 But still white.

In all honesty, I haven’t thought about placenta much since.  Then I learned that “Mad Men” star and total bombshell January Jones eats her own placenta.  Like, with her morning java.

In all seriousness, I am being a bit overdramatic.  Though not commonplace, (and not yet FDA approved) more and more women are having their placenta dried and encapsulated, like a vitamin.  It is believed that the placenta may promote a speedy recovery from pregnancy and help prevent post-partum depression, but this is considered scientifically unproven.

Fancy-schmancy lingo aside, it does sound like a reasonable argument.  And as long as it is taken in a capsule and enjoyed Hannibal Lecter style, I could probably stomach it. 

I bet my hair would look ah-mazing.