Being Famous is Hard
Not that I'm famous, and the recent ignorance of GWB's recent goofs in front of the camera make me glad for it. Talking with your mouth full, cursing and interrupting for starters. The roughness of it all made even more glaring because he was speaking with Tony Blair who's the most painfully polite and well-spoken leader of the world. I was so embarrassed for us. But then I wanted to write a letter of apology to Angela Merkel of Germany when I saw the bizarre little G8 episode where GWB stops by the Chancellor of Germany's chair to see if she needs any kinks worked out of her neck. "Dear Ms. Merkel, Please allow me to apologize for my president. We didn't all vote for him."
(Ok, ok, inappropriate behavior with an intern is also stupid, but at least Bill Clinton kept it domestic. Again, not that it was smart or right, and I'm still a little mad that the country's uproar over Monica Lewinksy distracted from real progress...) But back to our current president's foibles: Did GWB take complete leave of his senses? My co-workers and I would never find it appropriate to give a little chummy shoulder massage around the conference room, but between world leaders?! And the little feminist in me notes that Merkel was the only woman in the room, and didn't need a little uninvited frat boy touching to be reminded of it. Jon Stewart's commentary on it all is pretty darn funny though.
We all have our unguarded moments, ones where many of the men on the road have felt sufficient privacy to pick their nose, for example. Or trying to quickly maneuver that piece of broccoli out of our teeth instead of excusing ourselves for the bathroom. When tempted to do this, or when the broccoli is stubborn enough that I have time to reflect upon what I'm doing, I try to think about being Princess Diana. (Maybe every little girl does want to be a princess...sigh!) What if every movement you made was photographed? It makes me sit up straighter in meetings, that's for sure. What if there were paparazzi waiting for you to bend over and show a little bit of underwear? (Horrors.)
To see how bad it could be, just visit these two sites:
thesuperficial.com
pinkisthenewblog
These links are also very helpful if you worry about being caught leafing through the National Enquirer in the supermarket checkout line. Now you can be a celebrity busybody anonymously in your own home.
(Ok, ok, inappropriate behavior with an intern is also stupid, but at least Bill Clinton kept it domestic. Again, not that it was smart or right, and I'm still a little mad that the country's uproar over Monica Lewinksy distracted from real progress...) But back to our current president's foibles: Did GWB take complete leave of his senses? My co-workers and I would never find it appropriate to give a little chummy shoulder massage around the conference room, but between world leaders?! And the little feminist in me notes that Merkel was the only woman in the room, and didn't need a little uninvited frat boy touching to be reminded of it. Jon Stewart's commentary on it all is pretty darn funny though.
We all have our unguarded moments, ones where many of the men on the road have felt sufficient privacy to pick their nose, for example. Or trying to quickly maneuver that piece of broccoli out of our teeth instead of excusing ourselves for the bathroom. When tempted to do this, or when the broccoli is stubborn enough that I have time to reflect upon what I'm doing, I try to think about being Princess Diana. (Maybe every little girl does want to be a princess...sigh!) What if every movement you made was photographed? It makes me sit up straighter in meetings, that's for sure. What if there were paparazzi waiting for you to bend over and show a little bit of underwear? (Horrors.)
To see how bad it could be, just visit these two sites:
thesuperficial.com
pinkisthenewblog
These links are also very helpful if you worry about being caught leafing through the National Enquirer in the supermarket checkout line. Now you can be a celebrity busybody anonymously in your own home.
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