Skip vacations at your own peril.

On my way up to mine, I cried no less than five times. I think. Frankly, I was so disgusted with myself, I kind of lost count.

I also spent a good portion of the trip doing 75 - 80mph, having to pee but refusing to stop because I was in a hurry to get to vacation, and worrying about the kettle I was sure I’d left on to burn down my entire apartment complex.

Oh—and there was a lovely phone fight with The BF. Because nothing says “relax and kick back” like some hating on the one you care about most.

When you are a workaholic—meaning, when you “love” your work so much you become addicted to it—it is as hard to let go of the feelings you wrap around yourself to keep it together as it is for some people to knuckle down and get to it, period. Neither is better than the other; like the man said, everything in moderation, moderation inclusive. (Of course, workaholics and our dopplegangers—would they be slackaholics?—latch onto that last bit as our saving grace/”out” clause.)

Fortunately, even assholes like me can have their rough bits worn off by long walks on the rocky coastline and a fine quality sunset cheered on with beer and a burrito. The sweet-funky, ’70s love shack I rented comes complete with everything I need to readjust my attitude: wraparound view, high-speed internet and yes, cable TV. PLUS a hideous old recliner from which to watch it.

I have work to do these next few days—work I truly love, elective work I’ve been itching to get at. And get at it I will, tomorrow morning, with a strong cup of black tea to inspire me (and a killer view of surf crashing on the rocks if that doesn’t work.)

But for now, it is me, my Archie Bunker chair and an evening of Sam Waterston et al stretched out before me.

I am so happy in my little self-love shack by the sea I could cry.

Tears of joy, of course…

xxx
c

TOPICS: burnout, exhaustion, overwork, TV, vacation, work, workaholism.

When normal people have to do something, they do it.

When type-A people have to do something, they do it…and blog about it.

Introducing My TV-Free Year, a long, long, long overdue effort.

Officially launching on October 23. Countdown already in progress…

xxx
c

“Gaping Maw of Farrah” mashup = farrah_logan (by ambientfusion) + Gaping Maw of Disney (by libraryman), all via Flickr and all released under a Creative Commons by-nc-sa 2.0 license.

TOPICS: projects, Shameless plugs, Television, TV.

The Nightline piece aired last night.

As usual, more TV-hooey, the trumped-up gist of which was that brides today want to be photographed like hoors on their wedding day—probably because, as one photog (not mine) put it, “It’s the best they’ll ever look in their lives.”

Me? I feel the same way about posing in the altogether as I do in a branded piece of clothing: you wanna shoot me like a whore, I wanna get paid like one, brother.

Regardless of how stupid the segment was, it was a nice reminder of what great pictures he took.

Too bad the marriage didn’t…

xxx
c

Photo in background of me in the hotel bathroom on my wedding day, applying mascara (probably bought specially for the occasion because I didn’t own any) by brilliant wedding photographer Steven E. Gross.

TOPICS: communicatrix, publicity, Shameless plugs, Television, TV.

Jon Stewart is God.

Whoever has Lauren Bacall in the death pool is going to cash in soon.

It is just plain cruel to schedule a nominee as a presenter if his nominated category comes before his presentation category.

Especially when there is no alcohol served at the event.

It is just plain stupid to shill for the film industry’s output by saying “you just can’t watch something like this on TV” and then proceed to do just that.

As much as I hated the big, vomity production numbers, I miss them even more.

Oh, wait—”It’s Hard Out There for a Pimp” just came on.

M. Night Shamalamadingdong’s AmEx commercial was more compelling than any of his last three movies. And it still had a shitty ending.

Whoever has Dolly Parton in the death pool might cash in pretty soon, too.

Clooney/Obama in 2008.

All the ladies look very chic and subdued.

Even, amazingly, Meryl Streep, who usually looks like she was styled by a gaggle of five-year-old girls playing dressup out of an old trunk in the attic.

Meryl Streep’s birth name was Mary Louise.**

If I had any doubts that Philip Seymour Hoffman should win the Best Actor award, hearing that he shot the role in 36 days while producing has forever dispelled them.

If the Oscars moved to a points system whereby the most passionate and interesting nominees got to speak the longest, that director of Tsotsti would have been speaking for an hour and a half.

Having just heard (yawn) Reese Witherspoon give her acceptance speech, I don’t think we’re in danger of that happening anytime soon.

xxx
c

*blusings = blog musings

**UPDATE: this is not technically a blusing, I know. My actual blusing after thinking about exciting, trashy days of Oscars past was ‘I miss Cher’, however I was so bowled over about Meryl Streep’s birth name it knocked all real Oscar blusings out of my head. Also, I have had three scotches. At least.

Photo of setting up the 2006 Oscars by Donna Grayson via Flickr

TOPICS: List-o-rama!, Oscars, reviews/film, reviews/film, TV.

I don’t have a copy of Harriet the Spy handy, but to wildly paraphrase Ole Golly, TV is the perfect thing to do while you’re doing something else.

Since the “else” right now is tax prep and other boring-ish stuff, a little crappy TV really hits the spot.

I’m getting a little weary of the actual “American Idol” contestants (yaaaawn) but the freakish antics of Randy, Paula, Simon and teeny-tiny Ryan Seacrest are proving most entertaining. Even more (and definitely more intentionally) hilarious is the blow-by-blow recap on television without pity. As I told The Boyfriend, I don’t know whether to kiss or curse you for sending me the link; just see if you can stop reading last week’s 20pp treatise. G’wan…first taste is free.

xxx
c

P.S. The fiery trainwreck a.k.a. “Chasing Farrah” on tonight (Nick/10PT). I cannot WAIT to do my taxes…

TOPICS: quotations, Television, TV.