Where’d all the romance go?

Courtesy of Miramax

I have a confession to make.  I’m an epic-romance junkie.

Sure, I’m a happily-married, mother of two, ambitious feminist… but I’m a hopeless, over-the-top devotee of sweeping, all-consuming love stories.  The bigger the drama, the happier I am.   Movies about star-crossed lovers and their tearful embraces make me want to dance.  Complicated stares?  I practice them in the mirror.   Kisses that leave your lungs aching and your throat dry?  I watch the scene seven times without blinking.  A soaring musical score?   Caresses that reach below the skin?   Silences filled with weighted pauses?  I can’t get enough!

Yes.  It’s past midnight again and I’m awake.  The house is asleep and the decaf coffee I ordered at dinner clearly wasn’t decaf.  I’m too tired to map out yet another User Experience flowchart so that means there’s only one thing left to do:  it’s movie trailer watching time.   And damn it if there’s not ONE epic love story in the mix.

Remember all those great sweeping love stories Hollywood used to make?  The English Patient.  Moulin Rouge.  Out of Africa.  I miss them.  I want them.  But I can’t find them anywhere.  Where has the big love story gone??  Enough with all these small independent character flicks about broken marriages or friendships between strangers.  I want passion, damn it!  I want kisses and embraces and longing and suffering and all those great things that keep me glued to my chair, wishing for the movie to never end.

There’s not even a Twilight movie trailer (and there’s always a Twilight movie trailer!)   It’s gonna be a tough night for a junkie without her juice.

So, just in case there are a few addicts out there who need to feel some passionate caresses and witness some love that overcomes a whole bunch of crazy obstacles between two ridiculously gorgeous people … here’s a tiny fix from a greener time not so long ago:

The English Patient

Moulin Rouge

The Notebook

Out of Africa

Titanic

Dirty Dancing

Even Casino Royale had it…

Oh, it’s enough to drive a woman to download Pretty Woman to her iTunes account…

Just another “Wish I was a Mermaid” Monday

Artist: Waterhouse John William

On Mondays like these, I think I’d do the trade.  I’d go Mermaid.  No wait, hear me out.  I’ve thought it through:

1.)  NO TALKING

Mer-people don’t talk.  Neither do fish.  That means no phones calls, no sales pitches, no DNC calling for donations, no apologies for forgetting friends’ birthdays, no “how many times have I told you” rhetorical questions to kids under 9, and no inane grocery-line small talk.  I’m a mermaid.  I just nod and smile.  I can’t hear you under water.

2.)  NO ELECTRONICS

Anything with a cord would be suicidal.  I live in water, for god’s sake.  That means no bedside light to wake me at 6 am.  No computer.  No cell-phone.  No printer that keeps on jamming.  No rice maker that overcooks the rice.  No Facebook photos.  No Linked In resume lies.  No tweats from Ashton Kutcher.  I’m a mermaid.  I use a hairdryer to bat off sharks.

3.)  NO COOKING 

Sushi every night, right?  No food shopping.  No recipe books.  No standing in front of the refrigerator.  No washing, chopping, sautéing, stir-frying or steaming.  No ham sandwiches to make.  No crock pots to figure out.   No loading dishwashers in a symmetrical pattern.  No coffee beans to grind.  I’m a mermaid.  I make coffee out of seaweed and sand.  I have a trained seal deliver it to me.

4.) NO DIETING

No beauty magazines.  No 24-hour gyms.  No feeling bad about that power-walk that I didn’t take.  The only liposuction happening is with that kinky octopus from the Gulf.  Have you ever seen a fat mermaid?  How ’bout one with loopy breasts?  No more sucking in my stomach because I did eat all the bread in the basket and now, my jeans don’t fit.   My scales are flexible.  I’m a mermaid.  I’m the most beautiful creature a drunk sailer has ever seen.

5.) NO HARD THINKING

You never see a mermaid with a book.  Or wearing glasses.  They swim.  They brush their hair.  They eat some fish.  They play with some porpoises. They occasionally help save a cute man from a sunken ship.  They probably sleep 12 – 14 hours a night.   No teaching myself new technologies.  No trying to figure out digital marketing.  No wondering how I could be a better parent.  No teaching my kid pre-algebra or helping map out Tanzania on her multi-cultural poster.   I’m a mermaid.  I just sit on a rock and try not to cringe when the surf sprays in my face.

6.)  NO HARD LIVING

If I’m a mermaid, I don’t own a vacuum, Windex, tweezers or band aids.  My house is a shell so I know nothing about dust mites, mold and allergies.  There’s no traffic (other than the occasional feeding frenzy) so I never have to check Mapquest or SIG alert or Mulholland Drive before I leave the house.  There are no watches so I’m never late.  No poorly situated keyboards so my right shoulder never hurts.  Schools of fish don’t require large donations or creative Auction baskets.  Mer-children never bicker with each other.  Mer-babies never cry.  Actually, mer-infants, mer-toddlers and mer-elementary school kids don’t require a responsible adult.  It’s parenting by osmosis and new crops of perfect, well-behaved, well-trained mer-people arrive generation-after-generation in full-form.  There are no mer-careers, mer-feminists, mer-Tea Partiers, mer-stay-at-home-Moms, mer-Celebrities (well, except for that red-headed one but she went Liz Taylor so no one sees her anymore).  There’s nothing to think about when everyone is the same (except for your choice in hair color).  I have no worries.  I’m a mermaid.  People like to paint pictures of me.  And I’m friends with Peter Pan.

See what I’m talking about?    It’s not a bad trade when you have one of those kind of Mondays.

PRINCESS BUSINESS WOMAN: A FairyTale with Photos

PRINCESS BUSINESS-WOMAN

Once Upon a Time, there was a young girl who graduated from college with only a filofax, leather briefcase, pair of navy pumps and a smart navy suit with shiny gold buttons as her most prized possessions.   This young girl wanted nothing more than to be a “Business Woman.”   Just like Melanie Griffith in “Working Girl” and that blond lawyer-woman on “L.A. Law.”

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But when she moved to Los Angeles, the only job this young woman got was that of a secretary, fetching poppy-seed muffins for and fielding profanity-laced emails from her psychotic boss at NBC.  In the castle of primetime, she toiled late nights running calls from the car and slaved early mornings prepping “Must Review Today” folders for the crazy, evil boss-lady until she ran out screaming one morning and never came back.

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For a few weeks, she drank a lot of $2 Chilean wine.  She chased her sexy sailing instructor down to Santiago.  She came home alone.  She read a lot of Ayn Rand.  She worked a few more jobs.  Got a few more promotions.  She even got an Associate Producer credit on a real television show. One year later, she left the Industry to raise her children.   But she never got her own business cards.   She never really got to be the “Business Woman” she’d always envisioned herself to be.  

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Until yesterday.

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For the simple price of a Southwest plane ticket, that little girl grew into a Princess.  She packed her navy suit, picked up her freshly-minted business cards from Uprinting.com and made her way to San Francisco for her first business trip.  To a conference, no less.  This is the fairy-tale story of her glamorous rise to the top.   This is proof that dreams do come true.  Kind of. 

Chauffeur drives Princess to airport. Chauffeur looks strangely like Princess.  (See “The Prince & The Pauper”)

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Since flight was cancelled and Princess was re-routed, she arrives late to hotel.  Her King-room has been given away.  Princess gets upgraded to VIP floor. Princess learns that her Queen-room is a handicap room with double peep-holes.  (See “Snow White and Seven Dwarfs”)

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Princess takes a shower in her handicap bathroom but realizes too late that the water doesn’t stay in the wheelchair accessible shower pan (”cause it’s a handicap pan).  She mops up 3 inches of water flooding the bathroom. With no dry towels left, she air-dries her body with the blow-dryer.  (See “Cinderella”)

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Princess orders Gourmet Dinner on silver-tray from a servant who charges $15 for his delivery services. She eats her steamed ‘green vegetables’ and mashed potatoes while watching a rerun of “The Office” in her lower-than-normal-to-floor Queen bed.  She falls asleep shortly after the potatoes re-congeal in her stomach but the room is too hot, then it is too cold, the comforter falls to the floor and doors slam noisily in the hall all night.   REM sleep is elusive.  (See “The Princess and the Pea”)

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Princess wakes early and hits snooze 3x’s until she’s (almost) late for Registration & Opening Keynote. She makes coffee in her room (using 4 creamers to make it palatable).  She dons her navy pantsuit and runs to the Ballroom.  (See “Cinderella” again)

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Priceless Jewels and Treasures are bestowed upon the Princess, justifying the $1000+ Registration fee, for sure.

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Horns blare. Criers hark. Music Soars. The Metropolitan Ballroom I doors open. Wait.  Oops. The Princess is registered for Track II.  That’s in the other Ballroom, isn’t it?  Excuse me. Pardon me.  Oh.  Where is everyone?  Oh, I’m early.  There are 7 sessions today?  That’s a lot of sessions.  We’re in this room all day?  But there’s no windows. (See “Rapunzel”)

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Princess is exhausted… I mean, EXHILARATED by the 7 hours of speaking sessions.  Eager for the sight of real light, she heads out into the streets of San Francisco and stumbles upon a fine culinary experience.  She takes it “To Go” back to her hotel room and tears the dinner to shreds.  (See “Little Red Riding Hood”)

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With her hunger satiated, the Princess realizes she’s too tired to shower.  Her feet ache.  Although she has a ton of email to catch up on, she just wants to watch 30 Rock on tv.   She tells herself she’ll do her work in the morning.  (See “Pinocchio”)

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The Princess treats herself to a $45 can of not-quite-cold beer out of the mini-fridge. It’s a special occasion, after all.  She just lost her Business-Trip virginity.  She’s a real Business Woman now, damn it.  She’s a Business Princess! The Princess finishes her beer, then falls asleep until her I-phone alarm kisses her awake in time for Day II of the Affiliate Marketing Conference S.F. 2012.  (See “Sleeping Beauty”)

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And Princess Business Woman worked happily ever after.

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