Happy Monday! Happy Thursday! Happy everything! I'm glad you're so, well, happy and all, but we don't necessarily have to celebrate each day of the week with a public outcry. It reminds me of the Seinfeld episode where Elaine's office has some sort of sheet cake every day for every imaginable reason. Get happy with your bad self. And keep it to your bad self while you're at it. Incidentally, these are also the exact same people who missed their calling as meteorologists and love to let you know that it is freezing/windy/warm/sunny today, in case you don't have access to the outside world. These annoyances are often combined into a double whammy, such as Happy rainy Friday! Sorry to tell you, I don't celebrate that one.
You know all those adorable moments (Andrew went pee pee in the potty and it was so cute) and the really funny things your incorrigible kid says? Yeah, no one cares except you and Grandma.Your friends wanted to tell you, but couldn't work up the nerve. Seriously, unless you want to swap stories and hear about all the cute and funny things my dog does, keep it to yourself. Or give Nana a call and revel in every little precious detail. Here's a
While I appreciate that you have a cause near and dear to your heart, I know several people who are head over heels for animal rescue. One acquaintance posted a picture on Facebook last week of her six (that's right, an even half dozen) cats sleeping by the front door. She was proud. I was disturbed. The cats are outnumbering the humans 3:1 in this household, and that number is still climbing. Fine by me if you want to be the mayor of Kitty City, but don't give me all the details...or any of the details, come to think of it.
Beyond this, every other story these folks post online is about some horrific something that will hurt your pet (ban twist ties! This poor kitten's paw will never be the same after his tragic twist tie incident!). Or worse, these are the ones who also post those terribly sad, way too graphic pictures of abused animals. To clarify: if we are close enough to be "friends" on social media, you can rest assure that I am not a puppy puncher. You are preaching to the choir.
Lately, I have noticed an explosion of "actors" in the circle of people I know (some of them are so pretentious I cannot bear to label them friends). Charlotte is, after all, now being called the Little Hollywood of the South. Because of tax incentives, it's cheap to film here and there are always casting calls for extras. I am just going to come out and burst your little bubble when I tell you that being an extra does not an actor make. You were chosen for your generic ability to blend into the background and not steal the scene from the real talent. You can stop bragging any time now, and the fact that you take pride when the TV show or movie you were in wins an award is laughable. I doubt that "man with cigar" or "woman #4" are the reasons for the accolades. Being an extra is fun and I'm sure exciting, but it doesn't make you an actor any more than hanging around in the waiting room of my doctor's office makes me a nurse.
Which leads me to the excessive picture takers. It alarms me when I see that Jane Doe added 147 new pictures. Every Monday of her online life. Why are you taking all these photos? What, besides changing your Facebook profile picture every two hours, are you doing with all of them? (First person to say they are acting headshots gets slapped) Sure, that one of you in the ballgown standing by the railroad track in cowboy boots is very practical and everyone needs a shot of themselves gazing pensively out a window, but what about all the others?
I'm not even going to try to break this one gently: your husband is not as great as you say and we all know it. When I hear you say that he came home with a bottle of wine and flowers and cooked you dinner, what I really want to know is what he did wrong. That level of overcompensating should leave you with at least one raised eyebrow. The universal law of nature plainly tells us that the only men who are truly sensitive and considerate are gay men. It's a cruel irony, but it's true and it's also the reason every woman should have a gay man in her circle of friends. Not only will he bring you flowers, he will also stop you from sharing information about yourself that no one cares about. Now that's a good friend.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. It's chilly out there this morning, and I have to get to my photo shoot before my afternoon acting gig. My husband is waiting at home with flowers, champagne and a new piece of jewelry for me, so Happy Tuesday!