Category Archives: pop culture

Books I Wish I Had Written

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Photo by stockimages, freedigitalphotos.net

Photo by stockimages, freedigitalphotos.net

I seem to be in a minority, but I’m more amused than annoyed by all of the navel-gazing that happens on Facebook.

One of my favorite features is the “best book lists” that people post on their profiles. Reading them feels like spending an afternoon browsing through a great, used bookstore, or a morning at a bibliophile’s estate sale-and, okay, occasionally like an evening at a very pretentious cocktail party.

You can learn a lot about your friends by eavesdropping on their virtual bookshelves.

Not only have I gotten turned on to excellent but obscure books I never would have picked up-thanks to Heidi for The Giant’s House by Elizabeth McCracken and to Dan for Beginner’s Greek by James Collins—but I’ve been re-reminded of some of my favorite authors who have fallen off my radar screen.

Still, it’s almost impossible for me to create a list of my favorite books. Two of my favorite writers, Jane Austen and Nora Roberts, have written almost 200 books between them! There are way too many to choose from. A favorite book list seems like a daunting task.

Instead I’m going to take a stab at a mere fraction of the “Books I Wish I’d Written.” In no particular order, here are five of the books that I am mesmerized by and in fact worship to the point that they could easily turn me into a ginormous green-eyed monster if I didn’t like their authors so darn much.

The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler—Tyler makes it look deceptively easy to portray the complexities of relationships in this book about a guy who recovers from mourning the death of his son with the help of a very quirky dog trainer. Incidentally, he writes travel books for people who don’t like to travel but are forced to, hence the title. I’ve read everything Tyler’s ever written and I am constantly awed by her ability to bring characters and relationships to life with her minimal but letter-perfect prose.

Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott—I doubt there has ever been a more honest, hilarious and brutal depiction of early parenthood than this book, which is a journal of Lamott’s son’s first year of life. Forget the baby booties and the bassinets; Operating Instructions is my favorite baby shower gift for expectant parents.

Are You There, God? It’s Me Margaret by Judy Blume—This book could have been called “Are You There, God? It’s Me Leslie” when I read it in 6th grade, that’s how strongly I related to her treatise on training bras, menstruation, first kisses, zits, and bratty little brothers and sisters. Unlike many classic books that are better to have read than to actually read (the ones you suffer through to pass an English test or to not be ostracized out of future water cooler conversations), this is a REAL classic.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling—Granted, I’ve only read about half the series and have been more than satisfied with watching the movies and updates from my son, but is there anyone in this world who doesn’t wish they had come up with this jackpot of an idea? So what if I’m only marginally interested in fantasy books. Rowling is a real life Cinderella story, complete with a Scottish castle to stash all of her millions. Between that and getting so many kids excited about reading, how could I not want to have written this book and its six successors?

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby-Remember mix tapes? This book-a story about a “bloke” who runs a London record store and his reluctant ascendance to adulthood-is one of those perfect mix tapes combinations I wish I had thought of, a funny, sweet and endlessly interesting argument about growing up, falling in love and arcane pop music. Hornby’s writing is both brilliantly thought provoking and accessible. As a writer, he’s everything I look for as a reader, and everything I want to be when I grow up.

When Leslie’s not reading or writing, she’s usually on a hunt for her next favorite book. Send your recommendations to Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg.com. Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on August 28, 2009.

My fling with Fling

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flingMy son started giggling when he saw the pink candy bar in the checkout line at Vons. “Mom, that looks like something you would like,” he chuckled, as he pointed to the new “Fling” chocolate bar, a hot pink-drenched confection that looks so girly it could have stepped right off the shelf of Barbie’s Dream House.

When I told him we needed to try it, he giggled even harder, and turned a little red in the face. This candy bar screams “girl cooties” even louder than the tampons my husband thinks he deserves a medal for buying.

I don’t know when Mars began using five-year-old girls as graphic designers-I’m surprised its shiny pink and silver packaging isn’t wrapped with a feather boa. And I don’t know when Mars started using frat boys in its marketing department- they must have been working round the clock to come up with the tag line “Naughty, but not that naughty” as the motto for this 85-calorie trifle. It’s positioned as a simple pleasure you can guiltlessly enjoy in the middle of a workday, with ads that winkingly allude to a different kind of simple pleasure you can guiltlessly enjoy in the middle of the workday.

The television commercials seem to depict strangers having sex in a dressing room (they’re actually in adjacent dressing rooms and the woman is only eating chocolate), while the print ads urge you to “Pleasure yourself” with “Fling’s slender fingers.”

So much for slyly winking innuendo-they want you to pleasure yourself with slender chocolate fingers! You don’t have to have a dirty mind to go THERE with that one.

Other “Fling” ads urge you to: “Have a ‘Fling’ in private, or wave it all around town; in the office, the bedroom, or the great outdoors.” Nothing ambiguous there.

Seriously, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. Sexual euphemisms are now available at the grocery store-at least in California where the product is being test marketed-in convenient chocolate form.

Not only is this candy sexy, it shimmers. According to the website (www.flingchocolate.com, not www.fling.com, which is a risque dating site which I accidentally went to in the course of writing this column, and which forced me to figure out how to erase my browser history so my son and husband wouldn’t freak out when they next went on-line): “You are not seeing things. The Milk Chocolate flavor has a pink shimmer, the Dark Chocolate has a gold shimmer, and the Hazelnut has an orange shimmer. We like variety.”

Clearly this candy bar from Mars is aiming for women from Venus. What I don’t really understand is why. Maybe the fact that “Fling” is the first new chocolate bar Mars has introduced in 20 years is the real explanation for the stereotypical “Marketing to Women 101” campaign. They’ve covered all of the cliched bases: skinny, sparkly, naughty but nice and most of all, pink.

Surely M & M’s and Snickers’ new little sister is looking for trouble with her flirty little wrapper, not-so-subtle wordplay, and marketing of herself to just half of the population. I personally shoulder (or should I say “thigh”) more than my fair share of the chocolate bar economy. As such, I’ve always thought the woman in the Dove commercial who’s satisfied with just one piece of chocolate was faking it. But even I can’t eat enough “Flings” to keep this new product on the shelves.

When she’s not nibbling on chocolate, Leslie can be reached at Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg.com.  Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on May 29, 2009.

A Tale of Mice and Moms

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DisneylandI have to admit I was a little skeptical when I received the invitation to attend a “Mom Bloggers Day to Learn, Eat and Play at Disneyland.” I love Disneyland, and I like eating, playing and learning, and I am a mom and I do have a blog. But was I really a “mom blogger?” I wasn’t so sure. First of all, I have no idea what they call themselves. Moggers? Bloms?

At the same time, there aren’t too many perks for members of the press these days-unless you count all of those forwarded articles about the demise of the newspaper business from my college friends who I accused of “selling out” when they went to law school-so when I read the words “free admission for your whole family” I was sold, despite my apprehension about the words “mom bloggers.” Not that I have anything against these little moggers. But unlike them, I’m a working stiff, who doesn’t have the luxury of spending hours writing blogs only to be paid with cases of Rice-A-Roni, or even trips to Disneyland.

Okay, maybe I have a little bit of resentment toward the blommies because I actually make my living writing stories, meager though it may be. This isn’t just a hobby for me like it is for most mommygrrs, and I can’t help but remember what my mom used to say about not buying cows when you can get the milk for free.

But the waters are getting murky out there for journalists and bloggers alike. Back in the old days, reputable publications and journalists didn’t take any freebies. But the times are changing, and with barely enough money coming in to pay their writers, publishers are getting much more relaxed about letting their employees enjoy whatever perks they can get.

Just last week, The Wall Street Journal had a story about bloggers getting paid in hard, cold cash to pitch products, which used to be called public relations. According to the article, “Companies see the freebies and payments to bloggers as a cheap way to boost brand buzz during the recession.” It goes on to say that, “The Internet is becoming so rife with paid blogging that the Federal Trade Commission, which guards against false advertisements, is examining whether it should police bloggers.”

I decided to do some detective work of my own. I wasn’t just taking a free trip to Disneyland-albeit with absolutely no promise to them that I would write about them- I was doing some investigative reporting.

I was infiltrating the exciting world of mom bloggers.

Judging from my extremely unscientific sample survey of momoggers who came to Disneyland last week, the vast majority of them took their responsibility to report the objective facts about Disney’s “summer nightastic” plans very seriously. This is despite the fact that some of the mom bloggers had been buffed and bouffanted at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique; many had limbo-ed and conga-ed with Mickey’s crew in his Celebrate! Street Party parade; and all of us had indulged in the tasty “Cowboy Conecakes” served in Frontierland’s new Celebration Roundup & Barbecue restaurant. Seriously, no one turned them down. The presentation was very Martha Stewart, and the frosting to cake ratio was just right, which any self-respecting mom can certainly appreciate.

I struggled to keep my conecake enthusiasm in check, hardened professional that I am. But I couldn’t help but get a little giddy at the reserved front row seating we had for the parade (I could see the flop sweat on Pluto’s face, as he danced his goofy little heart out), and did a little happy dance when they gave us front of the line fast passes for “It’s a Small World,” “Toy Story Midway Mania” and “Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage,” none of which have regular fast passes available to the hoi polloi.

I tried to keep my excitement on the down low as I listened to the mom bloggers talk about some of the biggest issues on their websites.

“Our most lively discussions are always about breastfeeding,” said one of the mooggers, who happened to be 15 months pregnant.

“Not our site,” said a perky blonde. “It’s all about whether or not to go back to work. The great stay at home debate.”

“Not that anyone can afford to stay at home with their kids these days,” offered a tall brunette blogger, in purple sequined Minnie Mouse ears.

Seeing my opening, I pounced. “So do you any of you get paid for writing your blogs?” I asked. They all looked at me like I was crazy. “Does 500 cases of laundry detergent count?” asked a sweet-faced woman with exceptionally clean clothes.

They continued their conversation without missing a beat. It was fascinating, it was fun, and best of all-it was free.

I still don’t know if I’m really a mom blogger. But if you want to know the specifics about all of the new attractions at Disneyland, you can read about them on my, ahem, blog.

When Leslie’s on deadline, or blogging, mogging or tweeting, or on Facebook, she can be reached at Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg. Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on May 1, 2009.

The wheaty taste of niche gone nuts

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Wheat ThinsWe have so many choices, yet so few of them are really important.

But that doesn’t stop the marketers from giving us more to choose from. We live in an age of niche marketing gone nuts. There’s actually a $47 marketing book that people presumably pay for, called “Niche Marketing on Crack!” I’m not kidding. Look it up. That’s how insane it’s gotten.

There’s a desperate battle going on for shelf space and brain space, space on your bookshelf and space on your DVR. Just the other day I went shopping and looked for Wheat Thins. Remember Wheat Thins? Square, thin, made out of wheat. They used to be pretty simple. Not any more.

They still have the original Wheat Thins, but there’s also a reduced fat kind; there’s one with a “hint of salt,” then you have the fiber selects type in garden vegetable or 5-grain; the big size, which are the same as the original only bigger; the multi-grain kind, not to be confused with the 100 whole grain type; the sundried tomato and basil flavor, not to be confused with the parmesan basil flavor; not to mention the cream cheese and chives, the ranch flavor, the reduced fat roasted garlic and herb flavor, the reduced fat country French onion, and the new artisan cheese Wheat Thins, in white cheddar or colby flavors.

I’m not kidding. There are also the toasted Wheat Thins chips, which come in a few more flavors, but in bags, rather than boxes. Plus they have all these flavors of Wheat Thins in at least three different sized boxes, plus the 100-calorie packs and the slightly larger lunch packs, and that’s not even counting the ginormous boxes of Wheat Thins you can buy at Costco.

You can see how this all gets to be exhausting.

I took my son to Barnes and Noble and Chaucer’s yesterday because he had gift certificates for both. The Maximum Ride book he wanted was available in hardcover or paperback, which we expected, but also a larger trade paperback which had a nicer cover and cost a dollar more, so he had to decide about that. But even though the book said it was number one in the series, we later found out from his friend that it was number one in A SERIES but not number one in THE SERIES that he wanted because there were two other series he was supposed to read first. So, of course, he wanted to go back and get those.

And because it was reading, and I like to encourage that, I took him back to the store. By this time I was ready for some escapist reading of my own, but trying to browse a bookstore for plain old fiction is just about impossible these days. Did I want literature, romance, mystery, best sellers or book club favorites? What about women’s fiction or an Oprah’s selection? By the time we got out of there my brain was too fried to curl up with anything other than a nice stiff gin and tonic, because there was no way I could possibly decide which bottle of wine I was going to open at that point.

Then I flipped through the cable music channels trying to find some music to listen to. Can someone please explain the difference between adult alternative rock and adult album alternative?

When I was a kid, everyone watched The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family because there was nothing else even remotely appropriate for us to watch on TV at night. Now we have so many cable stations I can’t keep them straight. Forget channel surfing, I need GPS on my TV.

I couldn’t figure out which music I wanted, but then I stumbled on the Food Network’s Home Shopping Channel.

Guess what they were featuring? Wheat Thins.

When Leslie’s not being bewildered by “Marketing on Crack!” she’s usually on her computer, at Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. Originally published on April 24, 2009 in the the Santa Barbara Daily Sound. For more columns visit LeslieDinaberg.com.

Noozhawk Talks: Leslie Dinaberg Sits Down With Steven Lovelace

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Steven Lovelace (Michelle J. Wong / Noozhawk photo)

Steven Lovelace (Michelle J. Wong / Noozhawk photo)

As the owner/director of Santa Barbara Dance Arts (with partner Alana
Tillim), Steven Lovelace has his dance card full guiding the jazz hands and pirouettes of more than 400 young students. Here, he takes a brief intermission to talk to Noozhawk.

Leslie Dinaberg: So Arts Alive! which shared your space, is now gone, sadly. But I hear Santa
Barbara Dance Arts is expanding.

Steven Lovelace: Yes. Now my rent just doubled which is pretty scary. But Alana and I … we’re
a very good mix, she’s definitely a great artist and does wonderful choreography
and really good with the kids. She’s a great teacher … I know that it will be good
for us in the long run …

LD: I know a lot of kids that take classes from you and just love it.

SL: They do. We have 400 kids here. Are they going to do it as a profession? I’ve
got a few kids that could be able to do it. Are they talented enough, absolutely,
but you know it also takes intelligence and hard work. …

Some of it here at my studio is social. I know the girls enjoy dancing, I know they
enjoy what I do in the class, but they also enjoy coming in and being a part of this
group … they interface and they interact and it feels good.

LD: I also think you can’t discount just the physical part of dancing. I think as a
parent you realize that your kids need to run around and burn off energy and they
can’t learn if they don’t do that.

SL: And they don’t learn this in school. This doesn’t happen in school. The level
of dancing or the level of vocal coaching that goes on here of the acting classes,
that is not the same, … Before I started this I have worked in practically every
darn school in the city doing independent things.

LD: Will there be changes at your studio now that you have the entire
space?

SL: Now we’re going to really transform this into a performing arts center. …
We’ve got Kindermusik here that’s very successful. … We’ve still got a gallery
space down there. The performing arts need the visual arts anyway because
somebody’s got to build the set to put on the show. I’m about to do two musicals
in the summertime, so this is all individual artists, costumers are individual artists,
they’re not performing artists, so I work with set designers, costumers.

LD: With this transition, is the name of the whole place going to be Santa
Barbara Dance Arts?

SL: Yes. Arts Alive! doesn’t belong to me. … The Arts Mentorship Program is the
nonprofit part of it. That is our scholarship program and our dance companies,
our performing groups, and a lot of internship stuff. We do everything from teach
them to teach classes, we mentor them to choreograph. They are producing their
own things. … The kids right now they are producing their own student
choreography showcase that will be April 26th at 3 p.m. The senior dance
company produces it under our direction, they put the program together, and they
do auditions and do the ticket sales. They do everything.

LD: That’s great. That’s really good experience.

SL: Yes, it’s great. It’s for 14-18 year old kids. They put their own recordings
together, they edit the music for the kids, they do all that. They outreach to the
kids at the dance school. … They can’t walk out of here just being dancers. It
takes more than that to make it in the dance world and we know that, so I’m
teaching kids to teach. You know one girl, she went out of here, she didn’t want
to be a dance major but she taught dance on the side because she could make
20 bucks an hour teaching dance instead of slinging hash and trying to scrape
tips together so that she could help support herself in school. So that’s a really
nice little skill to walk out of here with.

I’ve got one girl in her senior year in high school she choreographed two
musicals in the school. It pays a couple of grand for her to go in and choreograph
eight dances for a musical. She’s so good at it. So she’s working on
choreography and making some money. I’m hiring her this summer to help me
choreograph my musicals because I can’t do everything. She works here in the
summertime; she’s great with teaching. She’s 19.

LD: How long have you been dancing?

SL: I started when I was 21. I actually was doing aerobics up at Nautilus, and the
gal that was running it there who is now one of my moms.

LD: Cindy Elster?

SL: Yes … she pegged me right away in class. I was very coordinated. … I would
be right up in there in the front just going for it, and I moved really well and she
said, “you know, I think you should become a teacher. You should teach. Half the
class is following you anyway.”

So she started having me come up with her on the thing and do the routines with
her and she was really basically training me to teach. (Then she said) “Why
don’t you go up to City College and take a couple of jazz classes? You’ll get all
that.”

So I went to City College and took Kay Fulton’s jazz class. It was actually an
intermediate class and … at the end of the class she lined up half a dozen of us
and she said, “You need to take ballet, you need to take ballet or modern,” she
got up to me and she says, “you can stay.” So I got to stay in the class. And that
was the beginning of dance for me.

LD: That’s kind of wild, it’s late in life, most people start dancing so
young.

SL: It is late, but it’s more common for men. Men can start late. … They get an
accelerated training. I was up in a community college. I wasn’t in a dance studio
hidden away, I was up in a community college where everybody could see me so
within six months somebody from UCSB saw me and called Alice Contadina who
was the department head at the time and she sent one of the teachers out to a
class to observe me and she said “why don’t you come out here and take some
lessons free of charge?” So I went out to UCSB and I danced out there for a year
and then they offered me a spot in their company. By that time I had quit my day
job and had gotten a job at Julie McLeod’s Dance Warehouse. So that’s my
whole history around here. Julie taught me how to teach.

LD: What’s it like to work with all those little girls?

SL: Well, there’s a lot of different ways I could answer that. … I think it’s really
important to be a place where girls can be empowered, which is one of the big
reasons we want to mentor girls and give them social skills because every time
they don’t make that audition it’s a skill to know how to take that rejection of not
getting what they want. The first time you don’t get into the college that you want,
if you don’t get that job that you think you’re perfect for that they give to someone
else.

… We really, really feel strongly that we’re providing a service, not just in giving
excellence in dance training or contemporary dances but we’re giving your kids a
community that they can feel good about. And the kids love being here.

… And I know that some of that is because it’s a great experience for them to be
here, but I have to say we provide this forum where they can be seen at
whatever talent level they are at or whatever their interest in dance is. Whether
they are just here for an after school class or they have an aspiration to go on
and go to Broadway and be in music videos or be a director or whatever. It’s here
for them and we want to be there. We take them all seriously. We don’t talk down
to the kids here. We really believe in that.

LD: If you could pick three adjectives to describe yourself, what would they
be?

SL: Holistic, resourceful, appreciative

Vital Stats: Steven Lovelace

Born: Santa Barbara, on June 6, 1957

Family: Partner Gary Clark

Civic Involvement: Santa Barbara’s Summer Solstice, Lit Moon Theatre
Company; Santa Barbara Dance Alliance: Arts Mentorship Program; Fund for
Santa Barbara

Professional Accomplishments: Co-owner/director Santa Barbara Dance Arts;
Co-owner/director Stage Left Productions; Teacher at Arts at Laguna; Former
Artistic Director and Artist in Residence with Santa Barbara’s Summer Solstice;
Dancer with Repertory-West Dance Company, Santa Barbara Dance Theatre,
Santa Barbara Civic Light Opera, Bill Evans Dance Company, and Nora
Reynolds Dance.

Best Book You’ve Read Recently: (laughs) “Twilight. It’s not like they are the
best-written books in the world but there’s something very engaging about those
characters.”

Little-Known Fact: “I like to be alone.”

Originally published in Noozhawk on April 12, 2009. Click here to read the story on that site.

Reality Bites

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Photo Ambro, FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Photo Ambro, FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Am I the last person in America who hates reality TV?

My head starts to throb every time I flip through the channels and I feel my brain’s gray matter transform into a gelatinous oozy substance, perfect for the aliens to come take it over. I’ve got 900 channels and most of them are filled with so-called “reality” shows.

Why are these shows called “reality television” when they are so far detached from reality anyway? Reality is not competing for a prize on an island and it is not trying to become the biggest pop sensation in the country. Just writing these words makes my head spin. I’m literally dizzy with annoyance, that’s how much I hate those shows.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those alternative school parents who drives around with a “Kill Your TV” bumper sticker on my minivan, like ahem, one of my dearest friends.

I’m not against TV. I watch plenty of television, and most of it’s not on PBS. And it’s not that I have a problem with lowbrow entertainment-anyone who has met my husband can testify to that. But there’s something about the cheesy search for stardom on American Idol,  and the ridiculous search for romance on The Bachelor that I truly loathe. These show are more than just “not my cup of tea,” I despise them with all of my heart. They make my skin crawl.

Partly it’s the desperation to be in the spotlight that unifies the “stars” of all of these shows that makes my stomach churn. When I was six I wanted to be a ballerina, when I was eight I wanted to play on center court at Wimbledon, and when I was nine I wanted to sing on Broadway. But when I was 12 I accepted the reality that I didn’t have the talent to do those things, so I went on with my life.

These reality TV people need to realize it’s time for them to go on with their lives too.

But no, instead we now have this new group of overnight celebrities who are famous because they slapped someone, stole their boyfriend or spit in their face. That used to be how you became famous in junior high, not the pathway to fame in America. Now all of those overgrown teenagers are chatting up Leno, Ellen, and Regis and Kelly. Not to mention all the airwaves that are filled by wannabe/has-been actors trying to stretch their 15 minutes of fame to the breaking point by humiliating themselves on reality TV.

Here’s the thing: real stars have real talent. I don’t know what reality “stars” have. Chutzpah? Balls? A deluded sense of their own importance? Sure, some reality “stars”-albeit very few-may actually have some talent, but the only thing I’m sure they all have is the ability to really, really annoy me.

It’s not just that these shows are so popular and I can’t understand why; it’s also that as a writer I know that the cheap production values and nonexistent writing staffs of these shows are forcing the professionals out. It’s always been an uphill battle to get a well-written comedy or drama onto network television, but the success of these reality shows has made it almost impossible to get good shows on TV.

I can’t wait for the day when America’s fascination with reality TV finally runs its course. While I too enjoy watching my favorite characters claw their way to success through conniving, backstabbing, lying, cheating and stealing-I prefer to watch them do it gracefully via the piquant prose of  Mad Men, the dexterous dialogue of Damages or even the morose monotones of CNN.

When Leslie’s not ripping into reality TV, she can be reached at email . Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 3, 2009.

The After-Effects of Cruising

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Love BoatI know cruises are supposed to be a splendid way to replenish your energy and deplete your bank account, but I didn’t realize the effects of going on the Love Boat would be so long lasting. It’s been three months since we went on a five-day cruise to Mexico for my parent’s 50th anniversary, and we’re still feeling the after-effects.

I finally got my land legs back last month, and the trip is paid for, but my son still expects turn down service and a mint on his pillow.

Worse yet, he’s decided he likes the 19 meals a day plan. It seems like every time I rinse another dish the kid is asking for more food. “Hey mom, my stomach’s got a little more room. Isn’t it post-brunch, second snack, pre-high tea appetizer time?”

Seriously, I don’t know what they put in the water on those Carnival Cruises, but we’ve created a monster.

Case in point: we went out to dinner the other night and Koss wanted to order crab legs as a starter, followed by a Cesar salad, French onion soup, steak and lobster, with both rice and French fries on the side, and a molten chocolate lava cake and crème brûlée for dessert. “Oh, and don’t forget the warm towels between courses,” he asked politely. The cashier at McDonalds was very confused.

At least the cruise taught him about washing his hands with something other than his tongue. But seriously, he’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting to his tough life as an average nine-year-old.

I get it.

It’s hard to go back to real life once you’ve experienced having a whole crew of maitre d’s and supervisors watching the waiters, dessert staff, bartenders, sommeliers and toque-toting buffet servers at your beck and call, just to make sure you don’t do something for yourself that they could do for you.

Then there’s the freedom of being able to sign for anything extra your little heart desires. I understand how it went to his nine-year-old head, but it’s got to stop. When we stopped by 7-Eleven for Slurpees the other day, he wanted to just “sign the bill” for all of his friends.

I fear all that service has scarred him for life. Thank goodness it was winter, which saved him from seeing a lot of people nearly naked that we would all prefer not to see nearly naked— although not from having to witness a case of suntan lotion being spread over the white expanse of skin belonging to a certain family of die-hard sunbathers from the Midwest.

Meanwhile, after traveling with our whole extended family (my side, which is much more opinionated than his) my husband and I have lost all capacity to make decisions for ourselves. We’re working on this, day by day.

I almost broke down and called my mom the other night when I couldn’t decide whether to make chicken or fish for dinner.

Luckily, Koss solved that dilemma for me. “I’ll have them both, Mom. What are we having for a palate cleanser?”

Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on March 27, 2009.

When Leslie’s not reminiscing about vacations, she can be reached at Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg.com.

 

 

Butchering Barbie

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Candidate BarbieBarbie turned 50 this week. And if Barbie, with her perfect, plastic persona, is anything like the red-blooded, hormone-drenched women I know who’ve turned 50, I would never dare say a word against her.

Except that every time I look at Barbie she pisses me off.

It isn’t her impossibly disproportionate measurements. Though the International Journal of Eating Disorders says that if she were life-sized, Barbie’s measurements would be 38-18-34. And others say that her legs are 50 percent longer than her arms, making it physically impossible for her to even walk, let alone snowboard, samba or play in the WNBA.

It isn’t her incredibly vast wardrobe either. Although I was terribly jealous when I heard that 50 famous fashion designers gifted her with custom made couture this week, including Tommy Hilfiger’s hand-beaded white minidress, Diane von Furstenberg’s hot-pink wrap dress and Betsey Johnson’s outrageous green party dress.

It isn’t Barbie’s refusal to let herself age gracefully that gets me hot under the collar either. A little Botox here and there is understandable; she’s always in the public eye. Though she’s had so many injections her face doesn’t move, and she’d be a much better communicator if it weren’t so hard to tell what she was thinking because her expression never changes.

It isn’t even her flakiness that ticks me off. Though I must admit, at 50 years old it’s about time Barbie figured out what she wants to do with her life. By my count, she’s had more than 100 careers-including teacher, Prime Minister, Mary Kay consultant, World Cup soccer player, nurse, yoga instructor, life guard, sign-language teacher, NASCAR driver, fighter pilot, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader and rapper -you’d think that by now she would have found something that holds her interest for more than a season.

But that’s not it either.

Every time I look at Barbie she pisses me off because I see dollar signs floating away from me. Lots and lots of dollar signs.

I suppose I should explain.

When I was a kid, my Grandpa Jules was in the toy business. He never worked for Mattel, but somehow he got a hold of one of the original prototype Barbie sets. That’s right, one of the originals, with 20 different dolls from 1959, including Barbie dressed in her original black and white zebra striped swimsuit and signature blonde topknot ponytail.

Yes, the one and only original Barbie who sold at auction for $17,450 back in 2006. And there were 20 of them in the box, including some I don’t think ever made it to market. Can you imagine what they’d be worth today?

Growing up with a father in the toy business, my mom didn’t give a second thought to letting me play with the original Barbies. $17,450 for just one little Barbie! They may as well have given me dollar bills and matches to play with.

I shaved their heads, decapitated them, painted them with nail polish and ink, removed their limbs and put them into compromising positions with Ken, G.I. Joe, and Raggedy Ann and Andy.

But unlike all of the millions of other little girls who were torturing Barbie-by the way, this is such a common occurrence that Britain’s University of Bath did a research study which found that Barbie torture was a legitimate play activity-I was actually desecrating something that should have been locked away and cashed in as a down payment on my son’s college education.

I know it’s a cherished part of American girlhood to dote on, dress up, and then eventually torture Barbie with scissors and ballpoint pens. And I loved every minute of it. But couldn’t I have weathered these important lessons in love, accessories, destruction, and deconstruction, on a less valuable Barbie’s body? After all, my sister and I had heaps of Barbie Dolls, which were left naked and either headless or with their heads twisted impossibly, arms and legs in agonizing positions, and abandoned to mingle with our extra cards, stubby pencils and lost buttons under the couch. Why oh why did mom have to let us play with the valuable ones?

When Leslie’s not blaspheming Barbie, she can be reached at email . Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on March 13, 2009. For more columns visit LeslieDinaberg.com.

The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior

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2118114…is willing to accept that she creates her own reality except for some of the parts where she can’t help but wonder what the hell she was thinking.

—Brian Andreas, Storypeople

If you ask my husband, I live most of my days on the flip side of reason.

It’s not that I don’t believe in the principles of logic, it’s just that Leslie Logic has a life-and a mind-of its own. Whether I’m squeezing a three-hour project into a 79-minute block of time, justifying that chocolate calories don’t count if they’re eaten standing up, or complaining that my back hurts as I put another three pounds of “emergency supplies” into my purse, somehow it all makes sense at the time.

Given my tendencies, it was no surprise that I was tempted to check out, Sway: The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior, a recent bestseller in which authors (and brothers) Ori and Rom Brafman attempt to explore several of the psychological forces that derail rational thinking.

I always like books that make me think twice about truths I hold self-evident, and “Sway” is one of those rare books that explains the obvious in ways that are not obvious at all.

According the Brafman’s there are certain “sway factors” that influence our decision-making, including:

* “Loss aversion” – when we engage in irrational behavior when we perceive potential losses. The bigger the stakes, the higher the risks we are likely to take to avoid those losses.

Ah, like at cocktail parties, where you’re only interested in what your significant other has to say when that cute young thing is flirting with him. Or at Nordstrom, when you’re ready to walk away from those sale-priced black boots that are indistinguishable from the three pairs you have at home, but can’t live without them when another gal comes sniffing at the leather.

* “The swamp of commitment” – where past success using certain strategies reinforces the likelihood of our using the same strategy over and over, even when common sense tells us another way might be more successful in a new situation.

I get this one too, which is why I can’t stop myself from studying the ground every time I go to the Arlington Theatre, where I once found a $20 bill on the floor. Irrational maybe, but apparently this is common enough behavior to be able to write a best selling book about it.

I was somewhat comforted to find that I wasn’t alone in this regard.

Then, when I queried my friends about their irrational behavior, I got all sorts of responses I could relate to, even more than the examples in the book. Like Penny, who “went to the gym and ran six miles, then stopped by See’s Candy on her way home for a snack.” Or Melanie who said she devours “People” magazine whenever she can get her hands on it, even though she doesn’t even know half the people in “People,” thanks to being 40+ years old.

Then there’s Miranda, who shops online when she’s supposed to be working and admits, “I would be so wealthy if I didn’t give a damn about clothes.” And Candace, who pretends to be a health nut with her children but steals candy from their party favor bags to eat when they’re not looking. Or Polly, who says she always blames her husband and her kids when she’s the one running late.

Or Priscilla, who watches “Gossip Girl,” “One Tree Hill” and “90210” with her seven year old daughter, but covers her eyes during the kissing scenes. No wonder these people are my friends. How can I not love Denise, who says her irrational behavior is immediately responding to my emails and ignoring all the work her boss wants her to do? And my favorite response, from Darlene, who wrote, “by the irresistible pull of irrational behavior, do you mean when I say @#$%* it, and do whatever feels good at the time?”

“Yep,” I texted back.

“Well, I’m usually under the influence of wine or margaritas and in the company of friends like you, my dear. Why don’t you stop by after you finish your column tonight?”

When Leslie’s not giving in to the irresistible pull of just about everything but work, she can be reached email . Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on February 13, 2009. For more columns visit LeslieDinaberg.com.

The science of happiness

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Stuart Miles, freedigitalphotos.net

Stuart Miles, freedigitalphotos.net

If you can get a grant to pay for the research, then just about any topic is ripe for scientific analysis. Once the province of poets and playwrights, happiness is now emerging as a significant field of academic inquiry.

Psychologists, ethicists, scientists and researchers all over the world have been working diligently to dig up hard data on a question philosophers have been pondering for years: What exactly is it that makes us happy?

There are lots of books on the subject–with sexy titles like, Happiness: Unlocking the Mysteries of Psychological Wealth, The How of Happiness: A Scientific Approach to Getting the Life You Want, Happier: Learn the Secrets to Daily Joy and Lasting Fulfillment, and Thanks! How the New Science of Gratitude Can Make You Happier–but I decided that buying and reading all those books wouldn’t actually make me happier.

Instead I read an article in “Yes” Magazine by someone named Jen Angel (Is that a perfect name or what?) who read the books, thereby demonstrating the first of my scientific rules for happiness (hereafter known as Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #1)–You’ll be happier if you let someone else do the heavy lifting.

Here are some other scientifically proven strategies for finding happiness, according to “Yes.”

Savor Everyday Moments

This is pretty good advice and I do try to follow it. For example, tonight after we lit the Hanukah candles and my son swung his new Rugby Shirt around the room as though it were the Howler Monkey he was secretly hoping to unwrap, and he barely missed knocking over my wine glass onto a pile of clean white laundry I had yet to fold and he didn’t set anything on fire when he knocked over the menorah, I paused, took a sip of wine and a deep breath and simply savored the moment.

Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #2–Hold onto your wine glass, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Avoid Comparisons

It’s tough to avoid comparing yourself to other people, and trying to keep up with the Joneses in a wealthy town like Santa Barbara is downright impossible. The scientist’s advice: “instead of comparing ourselves to others, focusing on our own personal achievement leads to greater satisfaction.” This makes sense, but I’ve found that being married to someone with a huge ego is another way to do this. My husband’s delusions of grandeur almost never fail to make me smile, or at least feel better about myself by comparison.

Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #3–Marry someone who makes you laugh.

Put Money Low on the List

People who put money high on their priority list are more at risk for depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem, according to research. Obviously I would never have gone into journalism if money were high on my list. Although I can’t say that NOT having much money has ever made me particularly happy, NOT selling my soul for a paycheck certainly has made me happy in my professional life

Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #4–Get a job you like.

Have Meaningful Goals

“As humans, we require a sense of meaning to thrive. People who strive for something significant, whether it’s learning a new craft or raising moral children, are far happier than those who don’t have strong dreams or aspirations,” say researchers Ed Diener and Robert Biswas-Diener. This is why I put “keep Koss alive,” “sleep,” “eat chocolate,” and “breathe” at the top of my to do list every day–not only does checking them off make me happy, it also gives me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment of my goals each and every day of my life.

Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #5–Sleep, eat chocolate, breathe, and try to keep your kid alive.

Make Friends, Treasure Family

Happier people tend to have good families, friends, and supportive relationships, say Diener and Biswas-Deiner. But we don’t just need relationships; we need close ones that involve understanding and caring. It’s science, baby.

Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #6–Besides wine, chocolate and a husband that makes you laugh, the secrets to happiness are having family in town to baby sit for nights out with your friends.

Smile Even When You Don’t Feel Like It

A wise friend of mine once told me to “smile like you mean it until you actually do mean it.” Oddly enough, she was right. I’ve found that smiling works wonders. It’s really hard to be mad when you smile and it’s really hard for someone else to be mad at you when you smile at them.

Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #7–Keep smiling and don’t forget to floss and check for lipstick on your teeth. (And by the way, if I have lipstick on my teeth, would you please tell me.)

Say Thank You Like You Mean It

People who keep gratitude journals on a weekly basis are healthier, more optimistic, and more likely to make progress toward achieving personal goals, according to Robert Emmons. And people who write “gratitude letters” to someone who made a difference in their lives score higher on happiness, and lower on depression–and the effect lasts for weeks, according to Martin Seligman.

Leslie’s Science of Happiness Rule #8–I couldn’t have said this one better myself. Thank you for reading my columns week in and week out. Have a wonderful New Year.

Share your own science of happiness with Leslie at email.
Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on December 27, 2008.