Blogamania has spread ’round the world. Pretty soon, blogging 101 will be a required college course. Seems everyone has something to say about everything, including MOI, and blogging allows us to say it.
I went briefly to a conference in New York earlier today called BlogHer, which attracts thousands of women bloggers who appear to be in their twenties and thirties. Didn’t see too many FOFs. The blogging generation isn’t just blogging for the sake of it. It’s trying to turn blogs into business.
Many young women call themselves “mommy bloggers.” They become instant “experts” the minute they push the baby out…experts on raising children, dressing them, educating them, and playing with them. They’re also experts on cooking, talking to mothers-in-law and gardening. And companies like P&G, Johnson & Johnson and Stride Rite want to get the attention of these mommy specialists.
It’s a simple strategy. If a blogger has a loyal audience of readers to whom she recommends products, then the big brands want to get in the act. Why not? It cost a lot less to hook up with a community of bloggers than to buy ads on TV and in magazines.
There are bloggers on fashion, beauty, interior design, cooking, French women, medicine, travel, and a gazillion other subjects. If everyone is such a connoisseur, I’m wondering where all the amateurs went.
Does anyone still trust Dr. Spock?
The unimaginable happened to a FOF mother recently: Her son called her after he went on a shooting rampage and was about to kill himself. Caught stealing from the beer distributorship where he drove a truck, he had been terminated. The 34-year-old was one of two black men at the Hartford, CT, company and he often complained that he was the victim of discrimination, according to newspaper reports.
His mom pleaded with him not to take his own life. He didn’t listen.
We desperately want to take care of our sons and daughters. Protect them. It’s pretty easy to do that when they’re little and catch colds, fall from swings or get into arguments with their friends. But when little kids grow up, there’s not a lot we can do to protect them from life. And life can be pretty cruel and disheartening.
My heart goes out to the families of the victims, to the young man’s mother—and to him. He was obviously a tortured soul. None of us, no matter how great we think we are as mothers, is completely immune from having a terribly unhappy (adult) child.
All we can do is be there for our children. Just like this man’s mother, even if only for the last 10 minutes of his life.
If someone wants to sell me something, I usually will listen to his/her pitch or tell him I’m not interested right at the start. What I won’t do is let him call me repeatedly and ignore his calls.
We’re all selling something, no matter what we do. The person who buys the clothes that fill Macy’s racks needs to sell these clothes to us, the shoppers. The literary agent who buys an author’s manuscript has to sell it to a publisher to turn into a book. The publisher has to sell it to the buyers at the book chains. The chef who buys vegetables from a greengrocer has to sell his asparagus soufflé to diners at his restaurant.
Apparently, not everyone understands this pretty simple concept. They think of themselves only as buyers. When someone tries to sell them something, they run in the other direction. They don’t return calls. They never think about how they’d feel if their calls weren’t returned—when they were trying to sell something.
I will call someone 20 times if I want to sell her something and can’t get her to answer my calls or emails. Call me shameless or call me pushy. Just call me back. You may actually benefit from what I’m trying to sell to you. I wouldn’t be calling you so often if I didn’t think so.
“I don’t get jealous of people. Jealousy is such a waste of time because you’re jealous of them, and they go about their lives and have a wonderful time, so what’s the point? It’s a completely useless emotion – jealousy. I don’t go there.” – Joy Behar
I want to be Joy Behar’s friend, but she probably has enough friends already. I met her this morning when my son, Colby, and I went on The View to talk about Date My Single Kid.
I sat next to Joy on the famous View sofa and I liked her “vibe.” I can’t remember why I asked her how old she is, but she didn’t hesitate. “67,” she answered. I tell you, my FOF friends, she looks Mahvelous! Wonderful hair! Good figure! Nice energy!
Of course, I ran home to look up Joy’s bio and learned she has a degree from Queens College, which was three blocks from where I grew up in Flushing, NY. As a matter of fact, her background mirrors mine (I’m a Jewish girl from Queens and she’s an Italian girl from Brooklyn. Same thing.) Her mother was a seamstress and her dad drove a truck for Coca Cola, so I’m guessing they gave Joy her great work ethic.
Gypsy Rose Lee
I have no idea how Joy broke into show biz, but it’s great to see a FOF woman who is so popular and real. She told me I look like Gypsy Rose Lee, which was a great compliment, as far as I’m concerned. Gypsy was a famous burlesque entertainer (actually, a stripper), who I learned about when I saw the Broadway musical, Gypsy, based on her life. That was in 1959 and I adored Gypsy after that. Unfortunately, she died of lung cancer in 1970 at 59.
