Enough Gwyneth!


Oh Gwyneth Paltrow – why you so crazy? Did you look in the mirror one morning and see a dreadful actress? Was that the reality behind your decision to become a lifestyle and wellness guru? A thousand years from now will students eager to grasp intricacies of the downfall of western civilization line classrooms for lectures on Goop? Why Goop? You do know it means “sloppy or sticky semifluid matter, typically something unpleasant”. What were you smoking in 2008 when – “it is a nickname, like my name is G.P., so that is really where it came from. And I wanted it to be a word that means nothing and could mean anything” justified Goop as a lifestyle brand?

Gwyneth’s tepid celebrity might well have launched a successful lifestyle following based on responsible health, fitness, yoga, exercise, meditation (despite Goop branding ) without yanking the crazy chain, but Gwyneth is crazy and crazy loves company. Ad Age put 2016 Goop brand revenue somewhere between $15 and $20 million.

Ponder some Goop, a schizophrenic brand hawking everything from perfume and $400 blouses, to pricey skincare, cookbooks and home detox kits.

https://shop.goop.com/shop?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=&utm_term=gwyneth%20paltrow%20goop&utm_content=&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI9e6XjOPM2AIVFpd-Ch0X6A8OEAAYASAAEgKuQfD_BwE

At first glance, just another high priced lifestyle site, right? Wrong! So wrong, and oh so crazy. Lets visit the “Implant O’Rama”, a “at-home coffee enema,” which claims to relieve people from “depression, confusion, general nervous tension, many allergy related symptoms and, most importantly, relief from severe pain,” – yours at Goop for $135.

https://www.livescience.com/61355-pseudoscience-goop-coffee-enema.html

Medically speaking, colonic detox is a really bad idea. Only crazy would peddle coffee up the ass as a cure for depression or chronic pain. Gwyneth isn’t bothered by truth or responsible lifestyle advice, Goop doesn’t just thrive, it banks on crazy. Goop lunacy urges women to steam their vaginas at a Korean spa in Santa Monica courtesy Mugworth V-Steam: “You sit on what is essentially a mini-throne, and a combination of infrared and mugwort steam cleanses your uterus, et al. It is an energetic release—not just a steam douche—that balances female hormone levels. If you’re in LA, you have to do it.” ( Goop lifestyle travel advice )

Goop crazy Gwyneth is hung up on vaginal wellness. Lifestyle guru Paltrow wants us to stuff jade eggs between our legs.

https://goop.com/wellness/sexual-health/better-sex-jade-eggs-for-your-yoni/?irgwc=1&utm_campaign=10079_OnlineTrackingLink&utm_source=impactradius&utm_medium=affiliate

Another really bad idea according to medical experts who point out the danger of bacterial infection and toxic shock syndrome. Crazy doesn’t care – on the promise of “help cultivate sexual energy, increase orgasm, balance the cycle, stimulate vaginal wall, prevent uterine prolapse, develop and clear chi pathways in the body, intensify feminine energy and invigorate our life force” – Goop sold out of jade vagina eggs at $65 USD. Crazy demands a peek at the link above – a hysterical Q&A debacle covering everything from Chinese concubines using jade eggs to stay perky for the Emperor, to “recharging” your egg in moonlight if it seems sluggish. WTF?

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Smarten up people – say enough Gwyneth by shaming coffee enemas, vaginal steaming and jade vagina eggs recharged in moonlight.

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Life Coach


On the cusp of a new year, seasonal anomalies of obligatory resolution find me pondering “life coaches”. To be fair, life coaching has nothing and everything to do with seasonal aversion to empty personal promises. I’m all for personal reflection, but once a year because it’s expected is a tad tiresome. Proliferation of life coaching adds insult to injury. I personally know 3 people who peg their futures on successful life coaching endeavors. Each one a university graduate professing unique insight into the plight of millennials.

Words “life doesn’t come with a manual” form the thesis of this baby boomer’s approach to life. Seasonal resolutions however well intentioned or inane, always stemmed from personal reflection. Enter life coaching, a booming profession defined as –

“Life Coaching is a profession that is profoundly different from consulting, mentoring, advice, therapy, or counseling. The coaching process addresses specific personal projects, business successes, general conditions and transitions in the client’s personal life, relationships or profession by examining what is going on right now, discovering what your obstacles or challenges might be, and choosing a course of action to make your life be what you want it to be.”

Holy crap! If I know of three life coaches, how many more serve as millennial oracles? Am I alone in fearing for a generation of life coached dreamers whose seasonal resolutions stem from coached life plans rather than intrinsic motivation?

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18 Minutes


Today my world wears a badge embossed with “18 minutes”, a private honour reserved for individuals who share my profession. 18 minutes is the stuff of legend, an accomplishment of mythic proportion meaningless to all but a team of elite lunatics brave enough to prove it can be done.

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So why does 18 minutes have me beaming with pride? Last night with two teams of five servers we served 180 guests the main course of a plated dinner in 18 minutes. I’m talking flawless execution, no screw-ups or dead plates returned to the kitchen for “they ordered beef not salmon”. It was 18 minutes of perfection, feathers in the cap of our existence, testament to the power of professional satisfaction. If there were a catering Olympics, my team would be standing on a podium collecting a gold medal. 18 minutes is why I get out of bed in the morning.

 

Billie Jean


Couldn’t nail down when or why it started, all I know is for well over a decade I’ve texted Billie Jean to my daughter every time it plays at a wedding. Sorry Michael, may your tortured soul rest in peace but Billie Jean is a stupid song. Nevertheless and without exception, Billie Jean has played at every wedding since the ritual started.

I know a thing or two about weddings, they’ve paid my bills for 30 years. How many since Billie Jean texts began is tough to say, truth is I can’t even remember how many this summer, a conservative estimate might be 200 Billie Jeans. Each text represents 10-12 hours of sweat and toil sprinkled with shenanigans and drama worthy of screenplays.

The magnitude of Billie Jean was lost until quite recently, muddied by focus and work load it never crossed my mind Billie Jean represented a brief respite. Billie Jean texts mean dinner is over, coffee and dessert served, cake cut, kitchen staff cleaning up, truck being loaded and a push to strip tables. Billie Jean lets me breath. Only 3-4 hours to go, time to crack the whip, think about signing out staff, write a few words of my report.

Every so often I mention to staff Billie Jean plays at every wedding.They don’t believe me. Just wait I say, Billie Jean hasn’t let me down yet. If I were a smarty pants I’d blither it used to be Lady In Red or Red Red Wine, all that would do is age me. For the record, Uptown Funk is poised to become the next Billie Jean.

Don’t Think That Cake Will Serve 50


Myself and two staff, 50 guests, corporate golf tournament/Canada Day BBQ at a golf course.Tight timeline for set-up, no problem, not our first hustle. Buffet dinner of salmon, flank steak, Caesar salad, pasta salad, cut melon slices and cookies to open at 6:15. Chips and salsa on each table, bar open and notified guests would arrive in small groups relative to their tee-off times. Tournament prizes to be awarded after dinner, followed by our staff cutting/serving a Canada Day cake provided by client. Running a bit late due to venue not having tables/chairs in place – no big deal. Sorted it out and opened buffet to 20 guests at 6:30. Twenty guests, 20 pieces of salmon and half the beef, gone in the blink of an eye.

Silly me for assuming budget conscious client mentioned to invited guests free dinner was a choice of, not both proteins.Never mind that for the same price of salmon and steak, each and every one of them could stuff their belly with 2 burgers and grilled corn. Nope, they were adamant and customized the menu – 40 salmon fillets, 37 portions of beef (Why 37 is beyond me ) 40 portions of Caesar and pasta salads. This is supposed to feed 50 people? As always, our kitchen sent 4-5 extra goodwill portions of both proteins – drop in the bucket, this was an all you can eat pig fest.

We were in trouble. While not my responsibility to slap buffet hands, disgust left no choice but to shame ignorant second helping morons into waiting until first plates had a run at the buffet. Now client is in my face, angrily demanding to know why we didn’t hold dinner till 7. “We’re going to run out of food!” she shrieks, followed by “everyone is supposed to give you a ticket for choice of salmon or beef”. Excuse me, what ticket? Do you see mention of tickets in your contract because I don’t. Did you tell guests it wasn’t all you can eat? Do they realize how little food you ordered? Is your contract different than mine? Mine clearly states dinner at 6:15 and protein tickets are news to me.

Never mind. Client is beyond reason, demanding a refund, calling me a disgrace for cheating them.In the middle of all this my bartender interrupts – “What’s with these tickets? People keep asking if it’s for a free drink.” OMG!  A dozen guests go hungry, not so much as a cookie crumb left on the buffet, time to move on. I suggest we cut their cake.

How I managed to keep it together, calmly saying “don’t think that cake will serve 50” is beyond me. A team of comedy writers couldn’t script a more suitable punchline. Riveted, I watched as client ripped plastic cover off the naked 10 inch angel food cake, stunned by futile attempts to jab a small paper Canadian flag into the hard plastic center.

“Can you buy us a cake? We’ll stall tournament awards while you go for a cake”. Holy crap! How would you like to pay for it? I’ll send my chef for  cake when we sort out payment. Client agreed to put cake receipt total on her credit card. Chef made good time, back with what he could find in just over 20 minutes, a smallish slab cake and second small layer cake.  Client forgot about the stall. Awards over, only a dozen or so guests remaining. “That’s too much cake, I’m not paying for it” client announces. Oh yes you are!

Happy Canada Day