Monday, September 29, 2014


I know it's Music Monday and National Coffee Day, but I couldn't resist. I think most ladies will agree with me (and this video). Finally, a true depiction.

And now that the proverbial shoe's on the OTHER foot ... I CAN'T. STOP. LAUGHING. Plus I'm sure, based on experience, that this is being way too kind. But I digress. See how it feels, muchachos. Roll around in the down 'n' dirty of it all. Muy caliente, si? Mira, mira, what you say now, papi ... eh?

Thursday, September 11, 2014


This was the amazing view I'd see every night before going to sleep. After a lifetime of living in New York City (and then waking up each morning to view its glorious skyline from the Jersey side), I had just moved to Los Angeles about a month before 9/11. Finally, a longtime dream was coming true. Things were falling into place.

Little did I know, as movers packed the last of my boxes onto a truck bound for Southern California, that I was leaving behind more than just years of comfort in familiarity. My moving day would be the last time I'd ever see the World Trade Center's gleaming, majestic towers. I can't tell you how often I'd take the Path train to WTC for meetings in that area. Friends of mine owned a production company and lived in a loft ONE BLOCK AWAY. Little did any of us know that September 11 would be etched into our hearts and the pain never forgotten. Nor should it.

I remember getting a phone call early that morning from my boyfriend at the time. He was still living on the east coast. His voice was strangely somber. "They flew a plane into the World Trade Center." After a few seconds of silence, my response was that of a typical New Yorker. "What the hell are you talking about? You're crazy. Who does that? No way. I don't believe it -- you've got to be wrong. WHO DOES THAT?" After dropping my daughter off at school, I came home and found out it was true -- al-Qaeda does that.

Like the rest of the world, I sat glued to the news and watched that horrific scene -- over and over and over. Tears streamed down my face for eight hours straight. I felt totally helpless and couldn't move. I couldn't think and was in complete shock. Why? I, like the rest of the world, couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Where do we go? What do we do? What was next? For the first time ever, I felt like nothing, even our mighty military, could protect this country.

Family and friends were shaken but okay -- for the most part. A close friend, who had shared that same skyline view a few doors down, immediately took her kids to Florida. The same day. My mom, who'd been planning to visit me the following week, wasn't sure if she should cancel her flight. That boyfriend? Turns out he had a 9 a.m. meeting at Cantor Fitzgerald but rescheduled earlier because he was running late. He never left his house. Talk about fate ... but it hits home even more.

My first cousin, who had just moved back to Westchester county after living in Cali for years, also had a 9 a.m. appointment in the North Tower. His breakfast meeting across the street took longer than expected and, he not only witnessed everything as it was happening, but was one of those covered head-to-toe in debris trying to escape. Post-traumatic stress disorder plagues him to this day and he refuses to venture into Manhattan. Ever. And I don't blame him.

I can't imagine the psychological torment he's been through, relives, and still battles on some level, but he was one of the lucky ones. He survived. What I can't begin to imagine is the grief and heartache of the victims' families -- to this day. It must be too much to bear regardless of the time that's passed.

Shedding tears every year in their memory is an honor, because we're still here. Reflecting on how we can spread peace in a world where hate-mongers thrive is an honor, because together we can initiate change. Remembering this tragedy is our duty, because being alive is an honor. Never forget September 11 ... and be thankful that we are American.

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Thursday, September 4, 2014


Comedy has lost another of its greats -- the incomparable Joan Rivers.

Aside from the shock of her passing, my heart is truly broken as I remember growing up watching Joan on "The Tonight Show" with Johnny Carson. Now I never really thought Johnny was funny (his cornball humor seemed inane to me, even as a child), but Joan was simply BRILLIANT.

This tiny-but-tough New Yorker wasn't afraid to speak her mind during an era when women would rather play Betty Crocker than Caesars Palace, which was just unheard of. I was only a young kid from the Bronx, but Joan's hilarious, acid-tongued wit somehow fascinated me. Her delivery? Sublime. How great was it that she built a career out of making people laugh?

There's no question that Lucille Ball made everyone fall in love with female comediennes (who didn't love Lucy?), yet Joan was truly unique. She was a wild card. She was one-of-a-kind. She brought audiences to tears (including herself and Johnny) by saying what no other woman dared ... and it was refreshing. Liberating. Exhilarating. Joan was just what we needed. 

Dishing about Edgar, her sex life, family -- no one or nothing was sacred. Even herself. Joan's self-deprecating sense of humor was beyond anything we'd ever heard. Brazen, brash, and without apology. Best part was, she showed us how to laugh at OURSELVES. Joan clearly harnessed her own brand of comedic power and controlled rooms with only her mouth. Talk about fabulous. I was hooked.

She made up her own rules and broke'em just as fast. Forging a path in what was once an exclusively patriarchal industry, Joan claimed "The Tonight Show" changed her life and later appeared regularly as Johnny's guest host.

After Fox offered Joan her own competing late-night talk show in 1986, her "mentor" refused to speak to her again. Aside from (IMO) his inability to be funny, now "Carnac the Magnificent" was scared of a woman? Where's the equality? What year was this? Someone clearly needed to check his misogynous shorts at the door and leave those caveman days behind.

Did any of that phase Joan? Hell no. She prevailed as the first woman to host her own late night talk show ... the rest is history. And that, my friends, is priceless because it illustrates the epitome of believing in yourself. Imagine the concept of absolutely nothing standing in a woman's way? It wasn't easy (or common) during her early career, but Joan not only imagined it, she made it happen.

It's not hard to see how Joan Alexandra Molinksy lured me to the "dark side" at an early age (not that I had any clue what that meant or how it would actually affect my life). She flaunted a brass pair without caring about upsetting network brass. Screw status quo and the powers that be -- her balls were bigger than any man's. I couldn't help but wonder if mine would ever grow that large? (Jury's still out.)

Tolerating Johnny's nonsense wasn't easy, but if I caught Joan "in the act" it was all worth it. She lit up the room, was funny as hell, and had a BLAST doing it. She said what people thought and that's what made her successful. "We all need to get over it and move on."  Indeed. Little did I know that Joan was blazing trails that would actually impact my life.

Joan, thank you for showing me the importance of laughter and a lifetime of inspiration. YOU are what makes a legend most ... and will definitely be missed but never forgotten. xoxo

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