Going Blue Collar—Mayo's Adventures in Construction Management

Next week, one of my nightmares is coming true. I'm going to be working for my parents's construction company.


Shocking, but not necessarily a bad thing.

For those of you who don't know, my parents run JR Construction Corp and are exclusively contracted to work for Columbia University. Much of my childhood was spent on Columbia's campus, lugging compound cans, sweeping and generally following my dad.

After high school, I focused on a career in media because I wanted nothing to do with this construction career. "Construction isn't for girls," my mom would say. I didn't need any convincing—my plan was to go to college, get my English and Journalism degree, and live in TV land.

Like so much in life, things didn't go according to plan. TV was exhausting, and then I was laid off from my web job earlier this year. All this did teach me a lot, especially that manual labor isn't so scary or so gender-specific. When my apartment had to be renovated, I was happy to pick up a drill and learn how to reinforce sub-floor. I lugged drop cloths with a smile, and hauled cans of garbage with a skip in my step. If I was going to be kicked out of one field and thrown into another, at least I could try to put on a happy face about it.

So from Thursday to Wednesday, I'll be an official construction job manager while my parents jet off to Spain. I'm going to wear the company jacket, put the walkie-talkie hook on my jeans and get some dust in my hair. I'm going to practice my Spanish with my dad's employees and do my darnedest not to get any parking ticket.

This, my friends, should be funny.

I'm Over the Causasian News Network

I was ready to sing and dance in the street with the 5 Mexicans living in my neighborhood when I heard that Lou Dobbs was leaving CNN. Adios, pendejo! Believe me when I say that even in person, this is not a pleasant man (I'm guessing I don't have to do much persuading on that point). One day, I'll share my infamous Lou Dobbs story with y'all and you'll love him that much more. And by love, I mean hate with a foamy passion.

Though I'm excited for this blowhard's self-firing, it still makes me sad that CNN—the company I joined with a sense of purpose after the 9/11 attacks—has been whittled down into little more than Star magazine on TV. I mean really, Carrie Prejean on Larry King? Aren't there TWO WARS GOING ON, 10% UNEMPLOYMENT (of which I am a member), LOOMING FINANCIAL CRISES AND A SWINE FLU EPIDEMIC TO DISCUSS?

But wait, I said to myself. They have an opening here. They have an hour or two of programming that they can really be smart about. Maybe bring back an hour of CNN International, like they used to back in the day. Maybe devote it to long-form journalism or more BBC-like stories that people don't get to see all day. Maybe they could—gasp—even get someone of color to host the show? Yeah yeah, I told myself as I fell asleep. Yes, the network I used to love is still inside the Time Warner prison somewhere and is just waiting for the old guard to leave to really shake things up.

Fat f-ing chance.

Who did they replace Lou Dobbs with?

JOHN F-ING KING.

The other whitest anchor at CNN, aside from Wolf Blitzer, Rick Sanchez (don't let that last name and his occasional slip of Spanish fool you, that boy is WHITE), John Roberts, Anderson Cooper and Larry King.

Yes, John is nice. Yes, John is smart. But he also has something like a 9-hour show on Sundays where he gets to talk about all the politics (another mostly white male topic) he wants and to all the newsmakers he wants and, I don't know, make news.

Why, Jon Klein, why? Why would you squander away such a beautiful, momentous occasion—such as getting rid of a blatant racist from your network—and use it to reinforce the same white male BS?

I know you've been reporting it for months, but I just want to make it clear that WE HAVE A BLACK PRESIDENT NAMED BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA. He's been in office for, I don't know, almost a year now. People don't need to see white faces on TV to make them feel better anymore. The majority of this country is perfectly happy letting a black man run things. As for those other people who like to slap their genitals against people's foreheads—the teabaggers—they have Fox to turn to when the brown people make them uncomfortable.

So, CNN, I ask you—what's the fear in shaking up the white male anchor theme? Or even trying something totally different in that slot to see if you can get your ratings out of 15th place? What's the fear in picking an anchor of color—black, asian, hispanic, indian, transgendered, interspecies, whatever just something different—someone totally off the radar who you can bring in to wake up your sleepy network that has gotten too accustomed to following the most recent AP newswire or sex scandal?

If your solution is to swap one white guy out for another, then I have to say I'm offended and I'm officially boycotting the channel. I'm offended at your lack of vision for the future of news, and your lack of creativity. Ted Turner must be crying himself to sleep these days, after watching how his baby was peed on and left in the gutter to turn tricks.

CNN, you're better than this. Until you realize that, I won't be flipping to your channel anymore. And remember, if you want my consult, I want my fee UP FRONT.

If anyone is interested in starting a petition, let me know. It will never work, because the management at that network is downright cro-magnon in their thinking. But I'm always up for giving it the old democratic try.

TV Tips for Carrie Prejean

I don't like to call people names. But the mere mention of some people in the world yields a stream-of-consciousness rant out of my skull that I'm powerless to prevent. Sometimes it's good. Most times, it's not.

Take this little list for example:

* Chewy, my sister's puppy
MY REACTION: "Awwe, such a schmoopie doopie woopie."

* Clive Owen, hottest actor on the planet
MY REACTION: "He's a hot man-wich I could eat for breakfast AND dinner."

* Alex, my husband
MY REACTION: "The love of my life."

* Lady Gaga, whatever she is
MY REACTION: "Stale hack who wishes she was Grace Jones AND Madonna."

* Paul Haggis, shitteous director of "Crash"
MY REACTION: "Mediocrity's champion."

* Kristen Stewart, from the "Twilight" movie series
MY REACTION: "Crappy, crappy actress who emotes through hair fondling."

* Sarah Palin, whatever she is
MY REACTION: "^&#$#@!@&&^%^*&^%*&^$%$*&^^&*&*^@&^%!#^%$!"
(censored for those who don't want to see profanity at 9AM)

Now when I hear the name Carrie Prejean, my reaction will be "total disaster."

I've been doing my darndest in trying to ignore exactly why she is famous (and I really can't be bothered to explain why, so go Google her or something). But her latest appearance on Larry King has left me no choice but to talk about her.

Here's the video:




Oh, Carrie. I know this whole "instant-fame-for-little-effort-other-than-a-gay-man-destroying-you-on-national-tv" thing is new for you, but if you get your panties into a bunch every time you misunderstand any sort of nuance, you're in for a long and frustrating life.

For others who may have the misfortune of being deposed from the Miss American competition by a popular gay blogger, then join a psychotic conservative movement aimed at reinforcing prejudice and racism headed by your "hero" Sarah Palin, THEN have some unpleasant information about a sex tape and a boob job and a settlement about the sex tape leak to the media only to have Larry King ask you about it cause you KNOW he is imagining you on that sex tape, here are some tips:

1- Never, ever, ever walk out of a live or live-to-tape interview. Know why? Because diamonds may be forever, but the internet is IN PERPETUITY THROUGHOUT THE KNOWN UNIVERSE. This video is likely to outlast any crown you earn for your boob job, so be gracious and never lose your temper.

2- Get a better publicist and media trainer. You will get questions like this for the rest of your life, and now you might get more probing questions (that's what she said?) because you were such a snot with Larry. Make sure your NEW publicist and NEW trainer give you some better deflection techniques. It might help if you hire someone with crisis management experience.

3- When in doubt, let it out. I would have a TON more respect for Carrie if she would just be honest. If Larry had asked that same question, and her response was something to the effect of "I did it to preserve myself" or "I settled because I wanted the matter to be over with" or "yeah I was caught on tape while doing some un-holy communion with myself and I didn't want it to end up on the internet so I decided to shut my trap"—then I would have at least missed this story and gone about my day. But NOOOOO....she had to be all prissy and high on herself and force me to write this blog post. Guess what? That move just made those creepy internet trolls start working EVEN HARDER to get that tape and leak it on the internet. You can thank yourself for that one.

So remember kids, if you're ever in this situation, ask your friend Liz to guide you. I charge $25,000 an hour.

A Face That Makes You Want to Talk to It—Or At Least Ask It for Directions

Look at this face.

Sure, I'm generally cheery, friendly and nice to be around. I may look like I at least believe some of the stuff that erupts out of my mouth.

But there's one thing I can't figure out.

I can't see where on my face that it says "ASK ME ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING, AND PLEASE SHARE YOUR LIFE STORY WITH ME AT THE VERY INSTANT THAT WE MEET."


Don't get me wrong. I do NOT wish that I looked like a ripe old hag (though if you asked my husband on the wrong day...he'd say I play the part quite well). I am guessing this invisible-but-somehow-detectable neon sign on my face has been there forever, but it hasn't been so obvious as it has been these past few weeks.

Every day—without fail—I am asked for directions. Doesn't matter if I'm a block away from my house or 150 miles outside the city. It's not like I travel to tourist traps daily, and it's not like I don't get lost. But for some reason, people think I have the answer. The people asking me these questions range from born-and-raised New Yawkers to travelers just passing through town.

Friday night, I was getting off the 1 train at Canal Street. "Hey, hey, psst psst, you...," the guy barked at me. I tried to ignore it, especially since I'll be damned if I'm going to be "psst psst" at. I'm a lady. Why is "excuse me, miss" so hard?

"Hey hey, do you know where Broadway and Church are at?"

"I'm not sure, unfortunately. Let me get out my map."

"A map?" he balks. "What, you not from here?"

So this thing that can't even cordially address me for help is judging me because I need a map of Chinatown? Why did I even bother to help?

"I am, excuse you, but I'm not Rain Man and I don't have every street in the five boroughs memorized. What, are YOU not from here?"

And before he said the words, I knew what the answer would be: "Yeah I'm from here but not this area. I'm from Brooklyn."

Wonderful. I guess that can be everyone's excuse for being rude and having a bad sense of direction.

I pointed out in my trusty Manhattan Diary 2009 that Broadway and Church don't in fact meet, but he and his lady companion should start walking west on Canal. She seemed to have a clue, though she didn't say a word in this entire exchange. Yes, you can assume that he couldn't tell which direction west was, but I proceeded to my destination anyway.

Jump to Saturday morning, as I'm on my way to meet a pregnant friend to go shopping for baby shower gifts. Not half a block out of my house and I get hailed down again. "Hey you...," again with the rude salutation, but I ignore it because it's a woman with a baby. Pregnancy brain is just about the only valid excuse for starting a conversation so rudely.

"I've seen you around the neighborhood and I like your purse," she said.

"Thank you," I said. "It's so nice to talk to someone who speaks English in this neighborhood."

OK, maybe this one was my fault. By being friendly and trying to talk about the neighborhood with this woman, I opened the floodgates. In 15 minutes, I ended up learning her entire life story and part of her medical history. I won't go into details here, but let's just say I learned things that took me 10+ years to learn from other friends. She was super nice, but I was not prepared to learn about this woman's reproductive system, racial views and economic status while I was running to go buy booger suckers and nipple pads at Buy Buy Baby. The conversation ended amicably (somehow with me agreeing to start a campaign for racial sensitivity in the neighborhood) and we exchanged numbers.

I am not a misanthrope (well, not in the Larry David sense), but I do wish that I didn't appear to have SUCH an open invitation for dialogue on my face. If that were the case, then maybe I'd finally make it to my intended destination on time or get all that writing done on the subway. Until then, I'll just settle for not being mocked for using a map.

WNBC's Sue Simmons likes a liquid lunch...just like the rest of us

Maybe it's all the "Mad Men" I've been watching lately. Maybe it's the fact that I completely understand a working girl's need for a stiff one (a DRINK people...get your minds out of the gutter) during the work day. But this story about WNBC anchor Sue Simmons makes me giddy.

LX New York asked the local news legend if she would get loose after a newscast. Not only did she admit to going clubbing between shows, but she also said she used to drink. This is now the headline on Huffingtonpost.com.

Are we so sure she stopped?

This is a woman who cursed on live TV (no doubt at some stagehand who had put too many olives in her 6:05pm martini) and still kept her job. Here's the video to remind you:


This is a woman who also spent a few years with America's favorite curmudgeon, Jack Cafferty. Now, I worked with Jack Cafferty for a few years and though he's actually a very nice man in real life, he is occasionally prickly...to put it nicely.


This is also a woman who has fallen off her anchor chair...


And a woman who regularly does an impression of Punxsutawney Phil every year...


Is anyone surprised at this point that this woman likes her special sauce?

As much as I rip on news outlets focusing on the dumb stories I actually find this one amusing for one reason: It shows that news people are human. Not only human, but also sometimes not-so-great humans who need a drink like everyone else to erase the emotional sludge that accumulates from working a day job.

And if you work in local news for most of your life—-reporting on murders, rapes, fires, break-ins and car chases for 90% of your career—-there's a good chance that you just don't give a frack anymore. And that's OK.

So the next time you see Anderson Cooper or your local newsman, hand them a bottle of vodka. At least the execs won't smell it.