Ladies, we gotta talk.

Now look, I adore the fairer sex. I think you gals are aces, and life sure would be dull without ya, for better or worse. Despite the hell that some of you have put me through over the years, I bear no grudges. For serious.

Moreover, I'm a modern sorta gent, and I believe in equality amongst the sexes. So I'm all for you X-chromosome types goin' out there and gettin' corporate. Lord knows enough of the world has been destroyed by ignorant, greedy white men that we could probably use some capable, intelligent females in power to counteract such stupidity on our part.

However… something happens to some o' you ladies when you don that business garb and get a position with just the slightest shred of power. It's the type of transformation that I don't think even Robert Louis Stevenson could've envisioned when penning Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

I'm not one to throw around the term alpha bitch, but dang, there are some women out there who that phrase most definitely applies to in the workplace.

Guys, get over here with me, come sit by the campfire and let's roast some goddamn S'Mores, I think this is one topic that we can all agree on. Doesn't matter what sect of the male species you fall into… stud, nerd, playa, nice guy, scumbag, manwhore, whatever. Every red-blooded heterosexual male will agree with me on this post.

Heck, there are even some females that will agree with me on this. My mother has worked in HR for 18 years, and has stated on numerous occasions that she would rather work with men than women, because too many women just get obscenely power-hungry when it comes to titular advancements and authority.

Not to get all 5th grade on ya, but my mom thinks I'm right. She also tells me I'm cool. And if Penny says so, then by God, it must be factual!

But I think even outside the scope of HR, anyone out there that works in any sort of professional environment will have to concede on this one… I've seen it a great deal over the last year and change I've been at my job. When my new boss got transferred over to our division, she immediately clashed with my then-program manager. It wasn't so much like oil and water as it was like wicks and sparks… downright volatile. Within 6 months, my program manager was essentially ousted. About a month later, the only other female on our team transferred to another team. Since then, our group has been all dudes with the exception of the boss lady. For the most part, we's cool, but like every boss, once in a while she manages to get on your nerves. Just how it goes.

But she is not the impetus for this post. No, true believer, much to the contrary, this was prompted by one of my coworkers… well, two actually, but one seems more an accessory and the other the instigator. Although it may be uncharacteristic, I am reluctant to divulge any details about either individual. Far be it from me to ever hold back, especially when it comes to those whose ego cups runneth over, but lets just say that I'm subscribing to the old "discretion is the better part of valor" motto.

So this is basically the breakdown: a couple weeks ago, one of my coworkers arranged a lunch with one of our regular vendors as an outing and break from the monotony of the day to day grind. Two of my other coworkers were not invited to the affair, simply because they almost never say yes to anything of the sort. So it was more of a logistical thing than anything else. I probably would have invited them anyway, but that's me. I'm not the one planning, I'm just happy to be here, ya dig?

Word got back to one of the ignored individuals, who just happens to be of the female persuasion. Immediately, she began grilling someone who works under her, asking if we talked about her at all during the meal.

Come again?

That's right. I shit you not, dear reader. She wanted to know if anyone was talking about her or the other uninvited party during our outing. Well… no! Why would we have any reason to? Just because you don’t get the in doesn't necessarily mean you're the hot topic of conversation. There was just so much ego involved, I was on the verge of wretching.

She then lamented (translation: whined) that she felt the snub was incredibly "unprofessional." The ultiamte irony of this situation is the fact that these lunches are a very covert operation that we are really not supposed to engage in… so her absence from the affair is actually a shimmering act of professionalism on her part. But nay. Nay, I say. Not in the eyes of ye green-eyed she-demon in 5" heels. To her, there is a free lunch, she was left out, and come hell or high water, she will make it known.

Then to boot, she threatens to withhold business from the vendor who hosted the affair. Well, how professional of her. Nothing like sacrificing good business at the expense of your own petty vendetta. I love it. The capper to it all (at the time) was the fact that she engaged her aforementioned associate in an e-mail exchange in which she finally ended the conversation with (and I'm quoting verbatim, mind you), "Whatever, I don't want to talk about it anymore. They can all go to hell for all I care."

Mature.

But wait, it does get better. She then took to the oh-so "professional" habit of scowling, sneering and just looking plain disgusted when passing the folks that organized the affair.

Also mature. And reasonable, too.

I won't get into the ugly details that followed (the e-mail war between her and another co-worker, the correspondence that was passed around to other folks in the division and our sister division, the horrid picture from her college days that was retrieved with a quick Google search, etc.), but needless to say she has not earned many friends, and has essentially isolated herself from most everyone in the company.

What's my point? My point is simply this would not have happened with a guy. The average dude would abide and not let this become some over the top 90210-stylized high school drama. His attitude would've been, "If they don't like me, screw 'em," and that's it. There would've been no little e-mail fracas, no dirty looks in the hall, no unnecessary 'tude, none of the above, mon frere.

Reason being? Most guys don't get off on power trips.

Yeah. I said it. Take it for what you will, accuse me of stereotyping, but I'm telling ya, my experiences with some women in the business world are akin to my experiences with some women in the dating world: ugly, painful, and oftentimes gut-wrenching. What is it about a title that gives you ladies such an inflated opinion of yourself? What is it about authority that makes you believe you have the right to talk down to and demean other human beings? Is it a chemical imbalance of some sort? Is it the overwhelming urge to break out of the 1950's Donna Reed mold that so inaccurately portrayed your finest capabilities? Is it the years of existing in a predominantly patriarchal society?

If is the latter, let me say on behalf of men everywhere, we're sorry! If we had any idea the way you'd react, we never would've made those decisions at the meeting! Please back off, we made a mistake!

Seriously, gals, y'all need to chill out. This individual in question is the same one who is dumping a week's worth of work on her associate while she's away rather than working to get ahead of herself before leaving (like most of us do). I'm not saying she's an accurate sample of the population by any means, but this sort of self-opinion seems to be typical of a lot of my experiences in the workplace, from waiting tables right on up to the executive post… never had a problem with another guy, though… even the ones who preferred to wear high heels themselves.

Look, let's make a pact… we'll put the toilet seat down and cook dinner once in a while, and you spare us the dragonfire when cubicles ajoin. I think it's a fair trade.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

So last night at the gym, I couldn't help that the eyes of many cardio-heads were glued to the flatscreen monitors in front of them, airing David Blaine's latest inane stunt on ABC.

Let me set the record straight: I don't care about David Blaine. But I've come to three rock solid conclusions about the man.

1 – He is not a magician. He's not even an illusionist, for Pete's sake. The scenarios he cooks up are out there, I grant you… but there's no hint of "magic" in them at all. Look, if it were Harry Houdini cooped up in that oversize snow globe, he would've amazed the audience by pulling one of his trademark nigh-impossible escape routines. That was the beauty of his shtick… it came off as a sort of magic even without card tricks or optical illusions. Blaine just cooks up zany ways to destroy his body stunt by stunt. That's not magic, that's stupidity.

2 – This is not entertainment. I've read some quotes by people who have stated that his exploits are representative of the human spirit and it's resilient, oftentimes unbreakable nature. I beg to differ. I hardly find a man's repeated attempts to kill himself humorous in any way… I find it sad. The only thing I find sadder is the infatuation that people have with this guy. Sure, I know there's no doubt that he's going to draw attention to himself like the class clown… the only difference is that he's moved up from whoopee cushions to feeding tubes. Pardon me if I don't feel inclined to give the baby his bottle on this one.

3 – The man is a masochist. Seriously, why does he do this over and over? Is fame really worth that much damage to your body? How many people do you know who wake up in the morning and think, "Gee, what could I possibly do to damage my liver this week?" This might be the most disturbing thing about his popularity to me… the mere fact that everything he does seems to find him in the hospital for a number of weeks following the spectacle. Not only that, but the lengthy amounts of time he spends involved in these bizarre concoctions severely prolongs the pain he inflicts on himself. I'm truly convinced that the man just has no love for himself and genuinely wants to do extreme harm to his being.

Either that or he'll do anything for a buck. I haven't quite decided. So, taking these three items into account, the question begs to be asked… People, why in the name of God are you paying any attention to this genetic defective?

This goes beyond dumbass reality shows that are phonier than a politician's smile. There are people out there cheering a man who is trying to kill himself. There is something seriously wrong with the human race when this sort of demented tomfoolery could ever be regarded as entertainment.

Maybe it's me, but I really don't think we should be encouraging him like this... unless he finally manages to off himself, then I'm all for it. The less of this rot on TV and in the public eye, the better. Why can't more "celebrities" have death wishes?

I just might have this cat figured out all wrong… Shit, I hope he becomes an inspiration to self-loathing public figures everywhere!

Natural selection, people. I'm justified here.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

So Mission: Impossible III is upon us. Be still, my heart.

Hey, sorry… I just don't like too much John Woo in my diet. I prefer, y'know, plotlines and the like.

In any event, what's captured my interest about this undeniable cinematic stinkbomb isn't the fact that they made a sequel to M:I2. I pretty much learned that after they made a sequel to the first installment that they'll spin anything off for a few dollars more. No, what has grasped my attention is the fact that the antagonist is portrayed by Academy Award Winner Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Rewind and read the last eleven words in that paragraph.

Hoffman has been doing an amazing job as the requisite character/supporting actor for-freakin'-ever now. Didn't matter whether he was in Cold Mountain or Almost Famous, whatever film we're talkin' about was immediately improved tenfold just by virtue of his presence and performance as soon as his unmistakable mug was featured on the screen. The guy knows his stuff and it shows.

But now, having won an Oscar for Capote (which I have yet to see but am looking forward to tremendously), he's reduced to your standard issue action film bad guy cliché, which, incidentally, no one has been able to duplicate since Alan Rickman was featured in Die Hard. Period.

On the opposite end of the genre spectrum, but similarly bad-looking, Robin Williams's latest vehicle RV opened this weekend (see what I did there?). Watching the previews for that makes me dread the day I have children, as I'm sure I'll have to sit through many, many horrible family films, much like I forced my parents to do. And Disney not being what it once was, I'm not looking forward to that day…

It should also be duly noted that Williams is another of those select thespians to receive an Oscar.

So is Robert De Niro. Didn't stop him from making Showtime.

Jodie Foster has an Oscar under her belt. But she still made Flightplan.

I won't even get into Jon Voigt's career.

At this rate, I'm waiting for Meryl Streep to catch top billing in Breakin' 3. The Oscar has long been touted as the highest honor in cinema… yet at the same time, it has also proven to be something of a kiss of death for said honorees. I can't for the life of me figure out what it is about that much-coveted Oscar that drives so many people to accept such horrible roles.
I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the individual, no question. Some people (especially celebrities) exercise less discretion when planning their career moves than most. That being said, I have to give Cali credit for having the best drugs available, because that's the only reason I can think of Susan Sarandon having anything to do with Elizabethtown. I have to say that when it comes to mass mediart, we are in a major lull, here, people. I'm dead serious. I think contemporary film, music and television, by normal standards, is not only disappointing, but downright repulsive.

I think a recent text message courtesy of my buddy Vas, intended solely to break up the day and catch a laugh, says it all:

"There's motherfuckin' snakes on the motherfuckin' plane!"

They made a horror move about snakes on planes. It doesn't get much better/worse than that, ladies and gentlemen. We are officially an honest-to-goodness teenage wasteland awash in our own fecal matter and bile, because we pay to see this rot. And when we don't shell out the $8.50 in the theaters, we gladly head over to the local Blockbuster for a lazy Friday rental. One way or another, every movie, no matter how bad, is gonna make money somehow.

White Chicks made money. Think it over.

Now I realize that you have to work yourself up the ladder no matter what your path in life. Even Renee Zellweger was brandishing those Oscar-worthy chops in Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3, and nominee Jake Gyllenhaal was Bubble Boy long before even Donnie Darko opened the door for him to break out the cowboy hat and spurs.
But when you reach the top and retrograde as bad as some of the films that I've mentioned in prior paragraphs, I personally feel it's time to reexamine your career path or just exit gracefully altogether. Personally, I don't think I'd be able to degrade myself like that, no matter how much debt I'm in.

There's such a fine line between artist and whore, isn't there?

Now I understand that for some, there comes but one highwater mark in life; one opus that stands apart from everything else, and you're left with nowhere to go but down (for reference, see: Appetite For Destruction).

(See also: Alexander, Jason, Louis-Dreyfuss, Julia and Richards, Michael.)

Well, maybe it's me, but I feel that once you reach that pinnacle of artistry, the very least you could do is stick to it and try to make sure that your work is of a similar caliber if not superior to all things prior. But paychecks talk and critics balk, so at the end of the day, I'm sure plenty of these acting types are just thinking about their next car, jet or private estate, isn't that right, Mr. Jamie Foxx, Academy Award-winning star of Stealth?

It's the same reason that Kiss has been on tour forever. Because there's big money in it. It's too bad the music sucks.

Much like the scripts.

And the motherfuckin' snakes on the motherfuckin' plane.

Now if they decide to take Academy Award-winner Jon Voigt and Academy Award-winner Jamie Foxx and make those snakes anacondas and that plane a stealth bomber with a mind of its own… Now you're talkin' quality entertainment.

Just don't bill it as cinema, 'kay?

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.