The Agony Of Defeat

Well that sucked.....

You Can Insert "X-Husband" Too, Ya Know.

My ex-wife started taking flying lessons about the time our divorce started and she got her license shortly before our divorce was final, later that same year. Yesterday afternoon, she narrowly escaped injury in the aircraft she was piloting when she was forced to make an emergency landing in Southern Tennessee because of bad weather. Thank God our kids were with me this weekend. The NTSB issued a preliminary report, citing pilot error: Judy was flying a single engine aircraft in IFR (instrument flight rating) conditions while only having obtained a VFR (visual flight rating) rating.  The absence of a post-crash fire was likely due to insufficient fuel on board. No one on the ground was injured. The photograph below was taken at the scene and shows the extent of damage to her aircraft. She was very lucky.

 Happy Belated Halloween!!!

The Tangled Web

I'm not quite sure what to make of this woman, but upon first glance at her, my thoughts are not good.

Now who am I to judge her, really, but I truly believe this woman has some bad karma following her around. Rielle Hunter, her real name, Lisa Jo Druck, has lived a tough enough existence since meeting then Presidential candidate, John Edwards in a hotel bar in New York in 2006. She famously became his secret mistress and bore his love child in 2007. All by choice. You see, she has been weaving this web of tangles for quite some time and karma, as they say, can be a real bitch.

Ok, so what makes this situation more tawdry than most adulterous affair stories? The guy was running for President of the United States, while engaging in an adulterous affair with his so called "document-arian" who scored a $250,000.00 contract to film Edwards behind the scenes of his campaign. When his aides quickly realized her work was shoddy and unprofessional, the jig, behind the scenes was officially up. And up meaning everybody involved knew that Hunter and Edwards were doing the nasty on the quiet.

John Edwards, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?

The guy was swimming in the biggest fishbowl of all, yet he continued to have a adulterous affair with this woman while continuing his campaign for President and doing so while his wife of many years battled cancer.

Talk about lying and cheating.

How do you live with yourself?

These two not only lived with themselves, they lived with Edwards trusted aide, Andrew Young, who is no better than them, and bilked the wealthy Edwards campaign supporters out of millions to keep the secret quiet. What did they think would happen? Did they really think that Edwards had a chance at the White House? And that if he won they would sneak Rielle and her baby in the back door of the Oval Office?

I'm sorry to say that they both deserve each other, Rielle and Edwards. It's the innocent children I feel sorry for. Elizabeth, may she rest in peace, got her revenge. After it was all revealed, she got rid of the biggest cancer of all, HIM, and went on with what was left of her life. As for Edwards and his mistress? These two continue to dredge up feelings of  lies and deceit wherever they go.

Edwards is a social and political pariah and Hunter? She's just a pariah. And I'm not quite sure what to make of that.

Beantown Smackdown

I want to forget about Sunday as much as the next guy here in Boston, but it just won't go away.

And now Giselle, aka Mrs Brady, is under BIG fire for her post-Super Bowl expletive-laden rant aimed at Tommy's boys on her way out of her luxury box at Lucas Oil stadium immediately following the Patriots loss to the Giants.

Here's what I think: Thank God it wasn't me, because if it was, it would have been far worse.

If you haven't seen it already on all the trash TV shows, Giselle was being heckled by some obnoxious butt heads immediately following the loss, on her way out of the luxury box. They were shouting things like, " Eli rules!" and "Eli owns your husband!"

So what does Gi do?

She fires back while standing in front of the elevator to go down, in her thick Brazilian accent, " My husband cannot fu*king throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time." and "I can't believe they dropped the ball so many times." She ripped the team. Big no-no. Now Tom and Gi have a huge loss AND a PR mess to deal with.

Ok, so she ripped Welker and Hernandez and all the boys who work hard to make Her Tommy look good all season long, but she was mad as hell and provoked and somewhat right.....I guess when you are making 50 Mil a year in your underwear,and you are married to a genetically gifted man and have the world by the financial kahunas, you can't be forgiven of an extremely emotional moment; however foolish.

Hell, you should have heard all the names WE were calling them. It wasn't pretty and there were young kids around and no, we're not proud of it. If it were me, (in a dream) it might have been far worse. Not only would I have thrown back some choice expletives, but I might have played dirty pool and I can't say that I would not have responded, had I been her. Nope, I would have let them have it too. And a lot LOUDER. This I know for sure. I might have even lost some endorsement money and been in a bigger mess than Gi is right now. Emotions, at that time, were raw.

I guess when you have the world by the proverbial balls and your look like her, there is no crying in football. Not even if your soul mate just lost on the biggest stage there is, AGAIN. Not even when some heckling asshole, rips your heart out after the Giants just stomped all over it. Nope, the rules are different for her. She is expected to just shut her mouth and look pretty because that would have been the classy thing to do. Show no emotion. Well, who ever went on record and said that Giselle had class?

Again, good thing it wasn't me. I might have started a riot right there in the lobby of the luxury boxes at Lucas Oil Stadium. Just sayin.

Whatever..

Couldn't cut it?

Hey, whatever...
I look at it as a bonus year. No one expected the Pats to be in the Super Bowl this season, and guess what? We were.

A great ride, it was, and we got lucky.

A great game, we saw. Sh*t, I've got so many "what if" scenarios that I can honestly say it was a complete team loss. They collectively gave the game away. There will be no MVP of suck for me. They all sucked.

Yes, it's painful and yes, it stings like a mutha fuc*er, but we'll survive.
We'll rise again and we'll win again. It's a game. And it's a game I love and we, in New England love and we play and compete every stinkin' year. We get to experience it all; the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Today is agony.

Rest assured, I still love My Tommy, and I am proud to say so. Even though he's just like the little girl with the curl right in the middle of her forehead, it wasn't his fault completely in this game. There were even moments of greatness sprinkled throughout. What a game.

It was one hell of a game and it now solidifies a full blown, four alarm, New York/New England rivalry. We just ended up on the wrong side of the equation...Again.

Whatever, it happens. I was just happy to be along for the ride.

Epic Fail

Oh boy, do I have a story for you.

So I'm reading the Boston Herald yesterday and I read this:

North End restaurateur Nick Varano is heading to the small screen with a new show on New England Sports Network. The charismatic Strega owner is hosting an opening casting call tonight for a co-host/reporter from 8 to 11 p.m. at Strega Waterfront.

So why the auditions? “None of my friends are good-looking enough,” Varano quipped. Produced by Dirty Water TV productions, “The Strega Life with Nick Varano” will air once a month on NESN starting in early April. “It’s going to be like a variety type show,” Varano said.


So I let this marinate in my mind for most of the morning, I then ask some of the people I work with what they think. You know, like if I'm too old for this at this point in my life and stupid self deprecating crap like that. I gotta tell you that as much as I love being the center of attention, I really don't love being the center of attention.

I was surprised by what I heard. Everyone was all over me like white on rice.

"Oh my God, You HAVE to do this!"
"Candy, this was made for you!"
"You're so gonna get this!"

Later in the day, one of my favorite clients came into my boutique. We were chatting and working together, and she said to me, "Candy, you need to be in the movies." (OK, just so you know, I am not blowing smoke up my own a**, she really said that) I then tell her about the audition, to which I receive the same reaction. Fans, gotta love them. Funny thing is I then started thinking maybe I should do this. My background is in journalism, I've been in front of the camera countless times, yeah, I can do this.

I put my plan into action and did my due diligence. I called the company and asked about the specifics, did some research on Mr. Varano, told my husband, who got a good chuckle out of it and then lent his support and got a good friend to come with me. We arrive at the audition location and I put my name on the list. I was surprised to see of hundred women there, 90% of them had head shots and resumes. I did not, but fueled by my new found rock star status, I didn't care. I was not one bit nervous or intimidated. I actually felt so in control and quietly confident that I barely recognized myself. I was completely in my own head, which was a triumph in itself.

We sat at the restaurant bar and waited until it was my turn to dance. When my time came, I walked into a room with about 25 other women. I was at the back end of the line, about five in from the end. They announced that for this round of auditions, we were to grab the mike, stand in front of the camera, say your name, say you "Live the Strega life" and tell a little bit about yourself and then turn to the judges and do it again.

I watched as almost all of the 20 women in front of me bombed, and began to feel the adrenaline pump through my veins. Suddenly I felt like a crack addict on a bad trip, and I wondered why that girl of quiet confidence who walked through the door minutes earlier had abandoned me like a criminal scrambling from police sirens. I needed to think fast and do something to make me stand out from the rest as the ladies before me were toppling like domino's. Then it came to me! I knew exactly what I was going to say that will make them remember me and I'm going to take a risk.

My turn came and I took the microphone, said hello to the judges, (one of which was none other than Rajon Rondo), and began my shtick. I started out strong, real strong, so I thought. I announced articulately that I "lived the Strega life", and that the Strega life was all about passion, food, fun and fashion, living life to the fullest.

Then I gave it to them, the line I was sure would make them remember me and get a chuckle out of them.

I said in my best Seacrest impression, "And I am the next American Idol."

Crickets.

The rest is a blur, because at that very moment I was revealed to be the poser that I was. I wasn't at all surprised that they didn't ask me to stay and I wondered why I hadn't gone with my original plan. I didn't tell them about my blog, my kids, my shop, my life, and I realized I left them with very little other than the fact that I think I'm the next American Idol.

Epic fail.

In hindsight, I realized that I failed because I abandoned who I really am and I abandoned that quiet confidence of the girl that walked through the door. I should have repeated to them what became my mantra yesterday, before my fateful audition.

"You can't win the lottery if you don't buy a ticket."

And I got a valuable lesson. I realized that sometimes, the only real competition is within yourself.