Sometimes plane crashes...

...have happy endings for everyone. Well, almost everyone.

R.I.P. Flock of Geese

Yesterday, about five minutes after I sent an e-mail complaining about how bored I was at work, a plane crashed into the Hudson River, literally a block from my work. I immediately sent another e-mail apologizing for what my boredom caused as I watched 155 people be rescued from a sinking plane.

I've been watching the news all day, as usual, listening to accounts from passengers on the plane in yesterdays "Miracle on the Hudson."

There is one "survivor" in particular, whose stories get better and better. With every interview, his story became more heroic-ly cliche. "Women and children were the first to get off. People were panicking but I tried to keep calm." I kept waiting for him to announce when his new album was going to drop or give us his blogspot address. Maybe there is a special someone out there he is trying to impress? He had a big day but did he really have to wear that hat?

I know, I know, I shouldn't judge, he had a hard day, blah blah blah. But everyone is a critic, so don't judge me! The day after the Golden Globes, I found myself and a couple of my co-workers sitting in front of a computer looking at pictures of all the celebs glammed out on eonline.com. Each of us had an opinion. And really, do we deserve to have an opinion about the fashion choices of celebrities? Do we have the right to judge celebrities at all?

Yes.

So let's talk about Beyonce. She looked fantastic at the Golden Globes. She's quite stunning when she's standing in one place. But when that beauty decides to "sing" and "dance," something happens and I have to stop and ask, "What is going on?!?" I've actually seen her perform live and I was so concerned, I nearly called 911. When she dances, is she actually that uncoordinated, having a seizure or just trying to get water out of her ears? And when she sings, is it necessary for her to eat the microphone? I can't imagine that settles well in the stomach. I promise, Beyonce, your microphone is not a donut. It is a piece of technology that projects your voice for you. There is no reason to scream. Anyway, at least she looked good at the Golden Globes.

Hey, guess what? Mall Cop came out in theaters today. Woot, woot! I guarantee it's better than Bride Wars, which I may or may not have seen last weekend.

Lastly, before I leave to do something much less productive, I have decided who I would like to punch in the face. (For those of you who don't know, it is a lifelong desire of mine to punch someone in the face.) The lucky recipient of my power punch is someone who I've grown to despise the last few months. Everyday at 3:00 PM, I cringe as his voice fills the room. Who am I talking about? Mr. Rick Sanchez of CNN. He is the absolute worst. The worst. I'd rather watch Beyonce perform a million times if that meant I never had to listen to that man again. He makes me detest my own generation for using twitter, myspace and facebook in his attempt to use them. On one of his many unfortunate episodes, he allowed himself to be tasered. You know what? He'd probably let me punch him willingly for the sake of "journalism." How that has to do with journalism, I have no idea. Yet he would claim that it did.

So plane crashes, Beyonce, Mall Cop and Rick Sanchez. I'm a total hater today, my friends. But hey, at least I'm not bored?

Love love,
Jenna