Miss Japan got robbed

Even though, as my friend says, The Donald sets the women’s movement back 50 years with the Miss Universe pageant, I still watched it to see which skinny bitch I wanted to root for. At least with Miss Universe, there’s no pretense of a “scholarship competition”; The Donald said so himself on Letterman, when he said, “no, it’s just about beautiful women.” It’s also about all-American B-list celebrity judges (like Tom Greene) in this “international” competition.

So I shouldn’t have been so upset then when Miss Puerto Rico won. But I was still annoyed that the most obviously plastic of them all got that Mikimoto tiara. There were quite a few cute girls I thought should have made the top 20 (Misses Australia and New Zealand, for instance) but when I saw the final picks, I thought, well as long as Miss Puerto Rico doesn’t win, I’ll be okay. Harrumph.

As far as I can tell, her nose, lips, and boobs appear to be fake (and she’s only 18, at that!). I personally was rooting for Miss Japan, whose national costume, a robo-anime-superheroine-technoskank hot red number, was the most awesomely campy and avant-garde outfit I’ve ever seen in a Miss Universe pageant. (It also won best costume.) And she was waving a samurai sword around when she was wearing it, a practically picture-perfect poster for any panting comic fanboy. But it wasn’t just that; she was perky and spoke four languages and danced flamenco and never stumbled when she had to get her game on. And even though she was unnaturally skinny as any pageant contestant would be, she wasn’t as obviously anorexic as most of the gals.

Of course, I’m sure every one of those stiletto-and-bikini clad contestants had work done, but I just think it’s sad that the one with the worst plastic surgery job nabbed the crown. Oh well…at least there was a fitting ending to her win: Miss PR fainted during the press event, probably from not having eaten since a week ago. How’s she gonna travel the world as a mouthpiece for HIV/AIDS awareness if she can’t even stay conscious for press events? Somebody force-feed that girl a potato chip or some beef jerky.

The other highlight of the show for me was reading about the gals’ hobbies and interests onscreen, which included “making people happy,” and “being social.” Ooh, me too!

Aloha and mahalo

It’s been about a week now since I’ve been back from Hawaii, and I still have visions of breaking waves and breeze-ruffled palm trees dancing in my head. Here are some highlights of my trip (see if you can sense a theme here):

--On my flight from NYC to LA, the young man in ginormous headphones sitting next to me pulled out a big, leather-bound book with gold-gilded pages. I thought he was reading the Bible. I thought that was so sweet…this guy who I totally took for a skate punk was actually a nice Christian boy. I tried to steal a furtive peek to see what book he was reading, when I noticed something weird. He was starting a chapter that was marked by an illustration of a pair of dice. Turns out he was reading a bible—for bagging the girl. The book was “The Game,” by Neil Strauss, a former dork-turned-master-pickup-artist who writes about a secret “seduction” society and the tips they use to pick up chicks. Harrumph.

--On my layover in LA to Honolulu, a 21-year-old attempted to “get to know me”—only to see his jaw drop when he found out I was a whole generation older than him. I guess you could say the tone of the conversation changed after that. But he still gave me his number in case I needed a local to show me around. (And no, I didn’t take him up on his offer.)

--One morning I took surfing lessons with a bunch of folks from the conference I didn’t know, and it was awesome. And our instructors were Hawaiian firefighters (some of them anyway) and all I have to say is Hawaiian + firefighter + surfer = hotness. There was some mild flirting going on but mostly I just enjoyed the eye candy.

--On my flight home from LA to NYC, I was sitting next to a British bloke who is a former journalist/current Web executive/part-time DJ and who was totally sauced (I could smell the alcohol) and who proceeded to tell me all about his uber-stylist girlfriend and how he does want to marry her but how their long-distance relationship and different lifestyles could be a hindrance to their future…yada yada yada. Interesting guy—even more interesting to learn how much people will reveal of their lives when they’re lit.

Okay, now that this post makes me sound totally boy crazy (I’m not, I swear!), the real takeaway from my trip was a chance to unwind and gain a little perspective. The atmosphere in Hawaii is a total 180 from New York City, where everything, even the mundane things, are about five times more stressful than they need to be. I was there by myself for the conference (I was good and did go to sessions, but my mind was out to sea most of the time), but most evenings I was sunning on the beach or strolling in Waikiki listening to my iPod, and trying hard not to think about work. I also accomplished all three goals for my trip: I surfed, bought a ukulele, and bought Spam in a restaurant.

When I got home, I was grateful I came back relaxed—because it turned out there’d been a lot of drama simmering underneath the surface at work, and the shit basically hit the fan literally the first day I came back. My boss (see my rants in past posts) had been fired, and another long-standing coworker was leaving. I was stressed out about it, but I tried to channel my inner Aloha.

Anyway, it appears as if things at work will be okay; at the very least, all the negativity that stemmed from my old boss is gone. But I really think that if I hadn’t have heard the ocean in the seashell in my head, I would be pulling my hair out right now. Mahalo, Hawaii.