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Kitchen Sink

Tidblatherings

December 19th, 2009

Here’s what’s happening lately:

 

I’ve been crafting all my blog entries in my mind at around, oh, 3:30AM. This morning was a real hamdoozle of a post about the media’s role in shaping public perception, and that the media needs to be mindful of that great responsibility and not continue to F it up through biased and sensationalist reports.

 

I even did research on the subject. In my head. I believe I referenced “yellow journalism,” and had experts weigh in, like the renowned Steubing McFactspants, who really laid into Fox TV and MSNBC.

 

I believe the takeaway was: It’s the news folks, not a reality show, a Howard Stern outtake, or a corporate-shaped message. Please report the news, and not produce a soap opera.

 

I’m all up in arms.

 

But I don’t feel like going into it. Suffice to say? I was a journalism major and today’s news reporting is a whole different beast than how I was taught. In fact, I wouldn’t call today’s journalism “news reporting” at all.

 

Wow, still mad.

 

Back to 3:30AM.

 

I wrote a great post in my brain, I really did. But once I get to the keyboard, all I can call to mind is drivel like the above. And for that, I apologize. Maybe tonight, I’ll bring my Flip with me and vee-log my mind’s emptyings.

 

I bet you’d all enjoy that.

 

But for now?

A story.

 

It was 1999. A small group of us gals planned to travel to LA for the weekend to see the sights and buy new clothes without our significant others around to count the money. It was going to be great.

And super expensive.

 

My best friend, Lisa, and I left early Friday afternoon to beat the traffic. Our friends, Wendy and Andi, wouldn’t arrive until much later in the evening, and so we set a time to meet up at the hotel’s rooftop bar. But first, around 3PM, Lis and I rolled into town, checked into the Mondrian, and flounced around the room a bit, opening mini refrigerators and ransacking the toiletries basket. Then, we dolled up and made our way to the Sky Bar for LA action (as we lamely imagined it to be at the time).

 

Little did we know.

 

We trolloped to the pool bar, ordered some wine, and sat ourselves down for girl time. As I recall, we never left our goblets unattended or untouched, for that matter. But halfway through our second glasses, a wave of indescribable exhaustion and fuzzy headedness engulfed us both. We were just tired, she and I decided. Tired tired. I think it was 7PM.

 

We left our unfinished wine at the table and gangly-legged entered Asia de Cuba, the hotel restaurant. We needed to eat something. Yes, that was it. We should eat. However, after Lis passed out in her rice bowl and I saw someone famous but don’t remember who because I had one eye closed, I helped Lis up and we dragged ourselves back to our hotel room.

 

We feel asleep.

 

I guess.

 

Neither of us woke up until 10 the next morning, to find Andi and Wendy staring at us concernedly.

 

“We tried to wake you,” they said.

 

“You both were still dressed and in full makeup, so we thought you fell asleep waiting for us,” they explained.

 

“We tried to wake you,” they said again.

 

Huh, we thought.

 

We don’t remember a darn thing after 8PM. Lis didn’t even recall eating dinner.

 

Huh.

 

I’ve never slept through the night, and for me to not hear Andi and Wendy enter the room the night before, get ready, and play music, was most abnormal.

 

Lis and I looked at each other, then at ourselves, then back at each other.

 

“Are you wearing underwear?” I asked.

 

She snapped the elastic. “Yep.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Do you have an open incision on your back?”

 

“Nope,” she said.

 

“Me either.”

 

“Did we pee the bed”

 

“All dry,” she confirmed. “But….”

 

“Yes?” I asked.

 

“Is this rice in my hair?”

 

“Yep,” I said.

 

“Huh.”

 

And that was that. So with our underwear on, our kidneys intact, and our fuzzy heads held high, we enjoyed the rest of the weekend.

 

But we didn’t order the wine again.

 

The End.

 

On December 20th, 2009, Melanie @ Mel, A Dramatic Mommy said:

Oy, that’s kinda scary. I’ve written great posts in my head while showering, driving and grocery shopping. But sitting at the computer? Nada. I need one of those voice activated tape recorders.

And the “journalism” that posing as news that you speak of? Total BS. What happened to the facts? Sensationalism is winning over integrity. So sad.

On December 20th, 2009, Jennifer said:

So true about Journalism. Some nights I just can’t stand it.

I blank out all the time when at the computer or I just don’t even feel like blogging because the excitement of whatever it was is gone. Sigh.

That’s one scary night. I’ve never tried wine and always figured it was the lighter of alcoholic drinks.

On December 21st, 2009, Da Goddess said:

Gotta love those times when you’re all set to party and you poop out. The story was awesome. Awesome, I say. Let’s hope we can make it past 7pm when we get together. Although, as moms, I think we’d do well to plan on meeting at 2 or 3.

On December 21st, 2009, Danielle said:

I write a lot of great posts in my head while laying in bed wishing for sleep. They never make it to the keyboard. I probably would have a better blog if I actually posted those. Yours is great even when you don’t get that post from your head to the keyboard.

On December 24th, 2009, MomZombie said:

As a journalism major who worked in the business for almost 20 years, I can say today’s news delivery business is a disaster. I miss the newsroom and my coworkers, but I do not miss the cluster f***ck that made up the management team and the nonsensical directives that came from our ever-changing ownership.
I carry a notebook with me to jot down post ideas, which always come to me at odd moments.

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