The power of ownership

I bought a 2008 BMW 328i Saturday after I spent the last three years leasing a BMW 330i.

Since my 7th grade algebra teacher told me that I would spend more money leasing than buying a car, I've never been a fan of leasing vehicles. And the 330i was the first car I ever leased.

For the last five years, I'd been dreaming of driving a BMW. I've admired their sleekness, the performance and, I admit, the looks I'd get stepping out of such an expensive car.

Before the lease in July 2006, I had been driving a 1999 Mitsubishi Mirage. It was a piece of crap that I drove for six years. My only consolation was that it was paid for, but it was such an embarrassment. The driver's side mirror was missing. The passenger door wouldn't open, so anytime someone rode with me, they either sat in the back, which made my look like "Driving Miss Daisy," or they crawled over the driver's seat. And you would hear me coming before I arrived.

I hated that car!

I knew my next car would be a BMW. I started saving for one in 2005 and was praying the Mirage would last until 2007. But the MitsuBITCHI, which is what I nicknamed it, had other plans. In July 2006, I was headed to an assignment for work and the engine fell out of the car! I was on Interstate 287 flying - ok, I was going about 65 mph, which is as fast as the car would go without having a vehicle seizure - and the engine hit the pavement! I can laugh about it now, but then, I didn't know what I was going to do for a ride.

I was nervous, because I ended up in the Mirage after I totalled my Chevrolet Cavalier, my first car. I hit a drunk driver after he ran a red light. I was in no mood to purchase a car and had no idea what I wanted. Somehow, I ended up in the Mirage.

So, there I was, faced with getting another car when I wasn't ready. The only thing I knew was I didn't want to end up in car that I would hate as soon as I drove it off of the lot.

BMWs are expensive and my salesman told me that most people who are driving them are leasing them. I didn't want to lease the 330i, but I wanted a car I'd be happy with and my mind had been wrapped around a BMW for at least two years. So, I broke down and signed the lease. Three years and $18,720 later, I gave back the car. What a waste of money!

So, when I picked up my new BMW Saturday, I walked in with a substantial down payment - I started saving the day I signed the lease for the first BMW because I knew I was never going to lease another car again.

In five years, it will truly be mine!

Grim reaper haunts newsrooms

Where do you get your news?

If you're under 35, more than likely, it's from a website, not your daily newspaper subscription. And because of that, newspapers are struggling to survive. Circulation is down; layoffs are rampant and future of the newspaper business is as bleak as President Bush leaving the White House with a favorable approval rating.

While I've known these facts for a couple of years, the following job listing, found on craigslist, was a peek into what could be the future for journalists:

"A dynamic, entrepreneurial for-profit college in Northwest DC is looking for an experienced copy writer and desktop publisher to lead aspects of both internal and external written communications.

The only catch?

While you are writing copy you will also fill the role of security guard, working 6:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. Monday through Thursday.


But fear not: We will buy your uniform. You won't carry a gun."

At first, I laughed, but then reality set in, and I said to myself "This can't be the future of journalism!" Being able to multi-task is a great quality, but my ideal of multi-tasking is working on more than one story at a time, not manning the security booth while I'm editing copy.

The folks in the glass offices in newsrooms have to be more creative in getting people to read their product. Local newspaper websites must compete with CNN, MSNBC and even sites like E!Online, since celebrities are constantly in the news.

I hope the day doesn't come when the hand-held newspaper is completely replaced by a hand-held electronic device, but if industry leaders don't figure out a way to generate readership that day may be closer than we think.

My husband's joined a motorcycle gang!

OK, that's an exaggeration, but he purchased a Suzuki Boulevard M109R today. I've known since before we were married that he's wanted a motorcycle, but I've never been comfortable with his desire.

And I have good reason.

I think motorcycles are generally safe - if you're riding in a vacant parking lot - but once you head into traffic on a major street or interstate, I get nervous.

About a year into my first reporting position in Tennessee at The Jackson Sun, I covered a motorcycle v. car accident. I arrived at the scene before the emergency workers could move the motorcyclist into the ambulance. What I saw has been imprinted in my mind since: The motorcyclist lay on the ground, legs twisted with tendons hanging where his knees should have been. It was a horrible scene and a wake-up call that if a motorcyclist is hit by a car, there's little chance for survival.

My husband is an intelligent man. He's thoughtful in the true sense of the word - actually thinking things out. But once he started seriously looking at bikes about two weeks ago, he's been anxious to get one. He got a permit, signed up a driver's ed class and a week later, purchased a bike!

It's crazy that all you need is a permit to drive a motorcycle off of the lot, when you need a full license to leave a car dealership in a new car. Motorcycle dealers are putting beginner drivers at risk.

I knew he was going to eventually buy a bike - he was taking all the right steps. That is, until he got the bike before completing the driving class, which is in August. As we stood in our driveway tonight, him looking overwhelmed and me looking nervous, I told him he put the cart before the horse.

He said "yeah, sort of." And I replied, "no, 100 percent."

In a job where you're constantly faced with and writing about fatal accidents, you tend to think the worse about situations. I'm trying to stay positive, but the reality is that my husband is a very inexperienced driver and the throttle on this bike is nothing to play with. That combination makes me think something bad is bound to happen.

I know he will eventually become an ace behind those handlebars, but until that happens, whenever I see "motorcyclist down," on the newsroom's breaking news police pager, my heart will skip a beat.

The white comedians were right: Some black folks just don't know how to act in the movies!

My husband and I hardly ever go to the movies at night. Why pay full price when you can see the same movie for $3 cheaper during the day? But we decided, at the last minute Saturday night, to see "The Happening." The movie was good, but going at night was a huge mistake.

We got to the theater early and settled into our seats, which were about five rows from the top. During the previews, a group of teens - black teens - came in and sat in the row right behind us. I turned to my husband, rolled my eyes and silently said a prayer that they wouldn't be embarrassing.

They immediately started talking. I thought "I hope they settle down once the movie starts." But their behavior became worse with the start of the movie. They were talking to the screen like the actors could hear them. Cell phones were ringing and the kids not only answered them, but proceeded to have conversations:

Ghetto kid in the theater: "Hey girl, what's up?...No, just at the movies...Yeah, he's here, too...I'm not sure what we're doing after...laughter...more laughter...OK, bye."

What? Did you seriously just have a conversation in the movie theater?! The nerve!

There were about 10 kids in their group and for some reason, the girl on the very right end thought it was OK to have a conversation with boy on the very left end - and she wasn't texting!

People - not just my husband and I - were ssshhing the kids, but they ignored us and continued to talk.

At one point, I turned around and asked, "Do you have to be a stereotype?" That quieted them down for about five minutes, but then, they just started right up again.

About 15 minutes later, my husband turned around and said, "Can you f*cking whisper or something?"

I knew he was heated because my husband doesn't curse.

As the kids continued to talk, all I could do was shake my head in shame. What type of upbringing - or lack of - did these kids have that makes them think it's OK to ruin everyone's evening at the movies? Why wouldn't they just leave? It's no wonder some people think blacks are ignorant - because ignorant is all some blacks know how to be.

I'm sure some white, Asian, Indian and Hispanic teens act just as ghetto at the movies, but it was black teens who we encountered Saturday night.

Next time, we'll go to a matinee.

Writer's note: We were in the suburbs, where you would think people would know how to act!

Pregnancy pact shows lack of judgement

A group of 17 girls, who attend Glouscester High School in Massachusetts, are all expecting babies. At least half of the girls, none older than 16, had a pregnancy pact so they could raise their kids together.

This is the craziest mess I've heard in a very long time!

Why would anyone want to be a teenage, unwed mother? These girls obviously don't understand how hard and expensive it is to raise kids. And they clearly don't realize that their silly pact has changed the course of their lives forever. Will they graduate from high school? Go off to college? Leave Gloucester to experience life somewhere else? Probably not, unless their parents take full responsibility in raising these babies. Every decision they make from now on will depend on those babies.

A Glouscester student, Amanda Ireland, who graduated June 8, got pregnant her freshman year. She told a Time Magazine reporter that some of the girls in the pact made comments to her about how lucky she is to have someone to unconditionally love her. Ireland believes that's why the girls vowed to get pregnant.

Um, get a dog. Don't have a baby just because you want someone to love you!

I feel sorry these girls felt so unloved that they wanted to have babies when they're just babies themselves. I can't imagine what that feels like - I was raised in a home with two supportive parents. I wished these girls would have talked with a counselor, older sister or aunt before intentionally getting pregnant. This was a plan with no planning.

And what about the boys? Of course, most of the responsibility will fall on the mothers, but the fathers' lives will also be forever changed. While the mothers may be sitting at home, the boys can move on with their lives - after graduation they can head to college and eventually get a good job. But they will be paying - literally - for their mistakes for the next 18 years. Sadly, one of the fathers is a homeless 24-year-old.

The school board in this fishing town is considering making contraceptives available to students, but that won't stop the girls who want to get pregnant.

I wish nothing but the best for these 17 girls, but they're about the learn a very hard lesson: At 4 a.m. when that baby, who unconditionally loves her, is crying and the young mother can't figure out why, the mother will probably be regretting the pregnancy pact.

The Beauty of Diversity

The July issue of Italian Vogue will feature 100 pages of black models photographed by Steven Miesel. And all of the feature stories will be related to black women in arts and entertainment. The issue goes on newsstands next Thursday and will be available in the states soon after.

It's about time!

For years, beautiful black models have been ignored because, according to an industry insider, the designer already has their black girl or because advertisers don't want to alienate potential customers.

Italian Vogue Editor Franca Sozzani said she has been intrigued by Barack Obama, the first black Democratic presidential candidate. She also told The New York Times that she is aware of the lack of diversity on runways.

I applaud Sozzani for being gutsy. She could have easily turned down Miesel's request for the "all black" issue because her bottom line may have been affected. But Sozzani, who has a reputation for being controversial, sees the beauty in diversity and recognizes that beautiful is beautiful.

I hope Miesel's idea isn't a one-time deal. And I hope his openness to see beauty in all races rubs off on his colleagues. While future magazine issues don't have to be "all black," photographers and editors need to pepper every issue with all types of beauties, not just the ones with blue eyes and blond hair.

How do you measure up?

In an age where there's a fast food restaurant on every corner, portion sizes have more than doubled and gym memberships are down, there's no wonder Americans are fat.

According to the Center for Disease Control, six out of 10 Americans are overweight, with more than one in four being obese.

Americans should look to the Japanese to slim down.

Two months ago, Japanese lawmakers made it mandatory for employers to measure the waistlines of their employees who are 40 to 74 years old.  Men must not be larger than 33.5 inches and women 35.4 inches. Those with expanding waistlines have three months to lose weight or be subjected to health education. If folks haven't lost the weight after six months, their employers could be fined.

Lawmakers told The New York Times  that their healthcare costs have ballooned and this is a way to decrease expenses.

What Japan is doing is a little extreme, but something needs to be done in America, where the average white male waistline is 39 inches and white female is 34.6, according to a survey by the National Center for Health Statistics.

I struggle with my weight with the best of them. I try to watch what I eat and exercise, but sometimes I just want that second piece of chocolate cake - and I have it! I cannot imagine having to report my waist size to my boss. 

It shouldn't be up to my employer to make sure I stay trim, but then again, they are the ones footing my healthcare bills. My employer offers Weight Watchers classes in house. And for those who lose anything over five pounds, my employer will reimburse them half the cost of the weekly meetings. 

Employers may not need to measure your waistline, but there should be programs in place to encourage overweight employees to slim down.

Baby Mama Drama!

baby mama: noun. [bey-bee mah-muh] The mother of your child(ren), whom you did not marry and with whom you are not currently involved.

Michelle Obama, the wife of Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama, has been the recent target of a few snide remarks by the Republican camp. That's not the issue. She's fair game. She's in the spotlight because of her husband and everything she does will be subjected to criticism.

However, when FOX news reported on those comments, the story was teased "Outraged Liberals: Stop Picking on Obama's Baby Mama." http://images.huffingtonpost.com/2008-06-12-image002.jpg

Mrs. Obama is not a baby's mama.

Maybe FOX news thought it was cute because the Obamas are black and that phrase, which is common place today, originated in the black community.

Maybe FOX news thought it was a good way to reach black viewers by using slang.

FOX news needs to think again.

It was an insult and disrespectful to their union. Mrs. Obama has been married to Mr. Obama for 16 years. She's the mother of his children, not his baby's mama.

After shoving their feet in their mouths at FOX news, the vice president of programming said the "baby mama" description was bad judgement.

"A producer on the program exercised poor judgment in using this chyron during the segment," said Fox's Senior Vice President of Programming Bill Shine.

I hope FOX news learned a lesson: We're watching!

A tale of a wedding crasher

I crashed a wedding Saturday!

OK, crashed is a little strong - I went to a wedding that I wasn't invited to and didn't know the bride or groom. I was assisting the wedding coordinator.

Since I said "I do" nearly four years ago, I've been obsessed with weddings - from planning to attending them. I became so absorbed with planning my wedding that the day after, I saw the hotel wedding coordinator, who worked with me, showing the ballroom to another bride and immediately became green with envy. For six months, my life was nothing but planning our wedding that I didn't know what to do with myself after I got married. I officially had post-wedding-planning depression.

A couple of months ago, I took a wedding-planning course, in hopes of finding out if I had what it took to become a wedding planner. The teacher, who has guest starred on "Whose Wedding is it Anyway?" http://www.mystyle.com/mystyle/shows/whosewedding/index.jsp, warned us on day one that coordinating weddings isn't glamorous. She said there was a spike in people interested in becoming wedding planners after the job was glamorized by Jennifer Lopez's role in "The Wedding Planner."

I learned Saturday that there's little that's fabulous about being a wedding planner.

Yes, planners can help brides' dreams come true, but what goes on behind the scenes can sometimes be a nightmare.

The wedding I assisted was in New York City. The ceremony was flawless, but chaos nearly broke out immediately after the groom kissed the bride.

The guests were supposed to take a tour of the city on double-decker buses, but the tour was canceled because of a severe downpour. The wedding party huddled on one side of the church steps while the photographer tried to snap some pictures. The guests were crammed on the other side of the steps trying to stay dry.

The wedding was over at 4 p.m., but the cocktail hour wasn't supposed to begin until 5:30, because of the tour in between. So, the guests waited. The complained about the weather. Hair fell. Make-up ran. Suits became wrinkled and dresses stuck to skin. The humidity was unbearable and it wasn't much better inside the unairconditioned church.

I was running in the rain from the church to the corner - about half a block- to where the buses were parked to rely messages to the drivers, who didn't have cell phones. It's 2008, right? My hair was soaked, my pants were drenched and my flats were slushy. I had an umbrella, but when the rain is blowing toward you, it makes no difference whether you're covered or not.

The rain finally let up and the guests jumped on the buses. Five minutes later, the rain returned full force. By the time we arrived at the loft for the reception, the rain was torrential. Of 150 guests, three had umbrellas. So, as the assistant, it was my job to escort women from the bus to the loft door. Can you imagine me running in the rain, holding an umbrella over the beautifully-dressed women? It was not a pretty picture.

Things calmed down once everyone was inside and got some alcohol in them. The bride and groom arrived about a half hour later in a black Lincoln Town Car because the Rolls Royce they rented broke down at the church. The sun was out and they looked happy - they had no idea how awful it was trying to get their guests inside. Their first dance was beautiful.

Weddings are gorgeous. Nothing makes me smile faster than seeing a couple in love starting their lives together. But coordinating them was a learning lesson for me - one that I will leave to the real wedding planners.

My family or yours?

I'm not good at compromising, but I'm working on it.

I've known this about myself from the first major argument with my sisters when we couldn't agree on where to go for summer vacation circa 1984. I wanted to go to Disney World and I wasn't backing down.

One would think that since I've been married - four years this October - that my compromising skills have improved. Let's just say I have good and bad days.

Today started off as a bad day, but turned out good.

About three weeks ago, my husband and I agreed to host a July 4th barbecue for his family, who lives two hours away at the Jersey shore. Because of scheduling problems, the cookout was slated for Sunday, July 6.

Earlier this week, I found out that both of my sisters would be in Memphis visiting our parents for the holiday weekend and I so wanted to be there! My sisters and I are extremely close. We talk with each other everyday, even if it's just a two-minute conversation. And other than Christmas, we're hardly all ever in the same place at the same time, so when the opportunity arose, I jumped on it.

I asked my husband if he thought it would be rude for us to host his family June 29, the Sunday BEFORE the 4th. I explained that since the initial cookout wasn't on the actual holiday and half of his family probably wouldn't make the two-hour trek up the Garden State Parkway anyway, then they would hopefully be OK with us moving the date.

He was upset for about three minutes, then agreed to reschedule. He said he didn't think his family would be upset and he understands that I don't get to see my family as much as he gets to see his.

I was on cloud nine. I immediately got online and found some plane tickets, but I wanted my husband to talk with his family before I purchased them. In the meantime, I told my parents and sisters that my husband and I would be joining them for the 4th. Everyone was excited.

A day went by and my husband still hadn't talked with his mother. While they were playing phone tag, I mentioned the situation to two close friends, who thought I had acted totally selfish.
One friend even said, "Sometimes, you have to cave in."

Their reactions surprised me. Because they were my friends, I assumed they would have sided with me, would have understood where I was coming from. But they said I was in the wrong. Their words got me to thinking: maybe I was wrong for asking my hubbie to change the date; maybe his family is truly looking forward to spending time with us at our home.

So, I called my husband, hoping he still hadn't been able to reach his mother, and told him that we would host the cookout on the date already scheduled.

I will be thinking about my family July 4th weekend as they light up the grill in Memphis, but I'm part of a couple now and that means putting what's best for us before what's best for me.

Stop the lies

Not even a full week into his campaign as the Democratic presidential candidate, Barack Obama launched a website to stop the lies.

He's calling it "Fight the Smears," and it can be accessed at http://www.fightthesmears.com.

The site, launched today, lists rumors, lies and misconceptions that have been associated with Obama and the people around him, such as the rumor that his wife, Michelle, used "whitey" at Trinity United Church of Christ, and it was caught on tape. According to the website, "No such tape exists. Michelle Obama has not spoken from the pulpit at Trinity and has not used that word."

As the race to the White House hastens, lies and rumors will fly. I think it was smart of Obama and his camp to start the website because people will want to know the truth. With television networks using talking heads and self-proclaimed experts, who have the freedom to say what they want about both candidates, sometimes non-truths will slip out. I don't know how many times I've heard that Obama is unAmerican because he doesn't say the Pledge or wear a flag pin on his lapel. After you hear that 10-15 times, you might start to believe it. If you're still on the fence about that one, "Fight the Smears" has footage of the U.S. senator pledging allegiance to the flag.

"Fight the Smears" is like the political equivalent to Snopes, http://snopes.com/, the website that debunks urban legends. In times when campaign mudslinging is the norm and is almost expected, it's good to have a system in place that speaks the truth.

The birds, bees and plastic surgery, too

Attention parents and future parents: If you're dreading talking with your children about the birds and the bees, how do you feel about talking with them about your pending plastic surgery?

Miami-based plastic surgeon Michael Alexander Salzhauer wants you to have an open dialogue with the kiddies about your nose job, breast lift or mommy make-over (the full body work up moms get after giving birth). In his new book, "My Beautiful Mommy," he explains the best way to talk with your children about why you will come home black, blue and wrapped in bandages. The book is illustrated with age appropriate before and after pictures.

The book, which is sold for $19.99 at http://mybeautifulmommy.com/, is stirring up a lot of controversy. Those against it say it sends the wrong message to little girls - that mommy can't be beautiful without going under the knife. But those who support it, say it was a lifesaver when they needed a resource in explaining their upcoming surgery.

According to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, the number of people getting tummy tucks jumped 137% percent 2000 to 2007 and breast augmentations increased 64% during that same time period. So, it's not like people aren't having these procedures, however, there's no data to show what percentage are mothers.

But Salzhauer, who keeps candy in his office for kids who tag along to mom's appointments, said he printed 400 copies for his patients and they sold like string bikinis for a newly-constructed body. Two thousand more books have been ordered.

I think Salzhauer is onto something. There are tons of books for parents who have to explain when a new baby comes home, books to explain grandma's death and what to expect when dad's an alcoholic, so why not plastic surgery?

I'm all for plastic surgery. Most people are more confident after surgery and their children will notice when mom walks into a room with high self esteem. The message sent could be the importance of feeling good about yourself, no matter what it took to get you there. So, if you want to change a part of your body, go for it - from the knockers to the nose. And if you need a little help explaining the procedure and aftermath, you now have a book that will offer some guidance.

I have news! No, I'm not pregnant!

Lately, when I've announced to friends that "I have news," they automatically assume that I'm pregnant.

I've been married nearly four years to a man who would make a wonderful father, but right now, we've decided to join the DINK club - Double Income No Kids.

Friends who were married around the same time as we were started having children two years ago. We weren't ready then and we're not ready now! So, stop asking us to have a child so little Johnnie or darling Elizabeth will have a playmate. While I love kids (I have two nieces who I absolutely adore!), I sometimes think that parents want DINKs to join their club because misery loves company.

When friends ask why we haven't had children, we reply that we love our independence too much. I love that I don't have to hire a babysitter when my husband and I have a date night. I love that we can book a flight with two weeks notice for a long weekend halfway across the country and not worry about who's watching the kids. And I love that if we don't feel like cooking for two weeks straight, we won't feel guilty about feeding our kids take-out. We just went three weeks without any substantial grocery shopping; our home isn't really kid friendly these days. With my parents in Memphis and sisters in Ohio and Arkansas, and my in-laws in Jersey, but two hours away, we can't easily rely on family to step in when we want a night out. And yes, it's our fault, but we can't even tell you our neighbors' names, so they're out, too.

I'm not sure how long we will be DINKs. We're not anti-children, just pro-independence. While I think I would eventually make a great mother, I know my limits and right now, I'm selfish, impatient and would rather spend my money on a fabulous Gucci bag than daycare!

It's getting hot in here!

The New Jersey/New York region is in the midst of a heat wave - and it's not even summer yet!

With temperatures in the upper 90s and heat indexes making it feel like 100+, people living in this area don't need to be outside unless it's necessary. Schools are either closing early or just didn't open at all today and there are plans for the same tomorrow, when the high will feel like 101 degrees and the air so thick you feel like you can't breath. And cities have opened cooling centers for people who don't have air conditioning.

While most people - including me - are complaining about the heat from our cool offices, it made me think of those who work outside. How are they faring?

I just went to the bank and was outside all of 45 seconds to walk from my office to my car, my car to the bank, the bank back to my car and finally, my car back to my office door. I thought I was going to combust!

As I was driving, I passed some traffic surveyors, who were in full uniform, standing on the side of the road observing traffic. I also passed a postman walking door to door delivering the mail. And I saw a crew of landscapers manicuring a lawn.

All I could do was shake my head and thank God that I don't work outside.

So, on days like this - when it's too hot to justify being outside - or even too cold in the winter - take a minute to think about the people whose work forces them to brave the heat and cold to pay the bills.

By the way, the first day of summer is June 21.

Stay cool!

The Anti-Show

I love watching TV, but the networks are getting a little ridiculous with their parade of silly reality shows, which I've dubbed "the anti-show."

While I was flipping through channels earlier today, I came across a commercial for "The Singing Office," where co-workers face off in singing challenges for an ultimate $50,000 prize. Can you imagine competing, via Broadway show tunes, with the copy guy, the girl who gets your coffee or your cubicle buddy? I can't and don't want to. Just because you come up with an idea, doesn't make it a good one. The writers need to go back to the drawing board.

The show doesn't premiere until June 29 (on TLC if you want to check it out), so I can't report what I think will be low viewership numbers. But I can't fathom who would watch this. And, it's an hour long!

All reality shows aren't as awful as "The Singing Office" appears. I've been hooked on "America's Next Top Model," "Last Comic Standing" and yes, I admit it, "The Real Housewives of NYC." And while I'm probably the only person who doesn't watch "American Idol," I can't deny its success. But shows, like "To Tell the Truth," "Date My Ex" and Denise Richards' "Complicated" make me think the writers have just become lazy.

They come up with an idea, advertise for people who are looking for their 15 minutes of fame, throw in a cash prize and voila - you have a new show! There's no creativity, real actors or substance.

There's proof that desperation TV doesn't work. Head to http://realityshows.com/prioryr.htm to see the list of hundreds of failed reality shows, from "Amish in the City" to "Fatty Koo."

I don't wish failure on "The Singing Office" - hosts Mel B (Spice Girls) and Joey Fatone (*NSYNC) need steady paychecks just like the rest of us. But when networks promote these shows like it's must-see TV, it makes me wonder what were they thinking?!

Gimme some dap!

If you Google "fist bump" and "Obama," you will see a ton of stories reported by legitimate news organizations about Democratic Presidential Candidate Barack Obama and his wife, Michelle, giving each other a fist bump, where they lightly knocked knuckles.

This is the perfect example of a story that's not a story. And more importantly, it shows the need for more diversity in newsrooms across America.

You may not know this, but everyday in just about every newsroom, editors meet around a table to discuss what's going in the paper the next day. Most of these editors are white men. So, when the photos of the Obamas giving each other a fist bump, AKA dap or pound, circulated around the country, the editors thought it was a story.

It's cute, but it's not a story.

Black folks have been giving each other dap for years. It's what we do to greet each other, when we agree on something. I think a University of Maryland visiting dance professor read too much into it when she was quoted in stories saying, "He's looking right at her, she's looking right at him -- it's a partnership, it's 'We did it.' "

The Washington Post dubbed it "the first bump heard 'round the world." And The New York Times suggested that June 3 be National Fist Bump Day, since there's already a national High-Five Day. It's the third Thursday in April, just in case you want to go around giving people high fives.

My point is that if editors were more of a reflection of society - truly diverse - when those photos were presented as a story, someone would have been in a position to say, "That's old news. I do that with my boys on the basketball court every Saturday" or "I don't see the story here. My sorority sisters and I have been giving each other dap for years."

My hope is that Americans will elect Obama in November and his history-changing inauguration will drive HR departments in newsrooms (and every other industry) to follow suit and pay more attention to the lack of diversity in their buildings and make the necessary changes.

The Bravo A-List Awards Show

So, I went to the taping of the Bravo A-List Awards Show in Manhattan last night. My invitation read "cocktail attire," but by the looks of some of the attendees, it made me wonder what their invitation said. If you were wondering, cocktail attire for women generally means a short dress, think LBD, and a dark suit for men. I donned a cute, black knee-length dress with side pockets that I dressed up with dramatic jewelry.

In one of the fashion capitals of the world, you would think people would be more tasteful in their wardrobe selection. For crying out loud, they could be seen on national TV! There were men in jeans and Chuck Taylors; electric blue suits designed for another era and some in tuxes with tails. I swear I saw a woman in a chocolate-colored velvet ball gown on a night when it was 80 degrees outside. One woman wore a sequined dress that was more appropriate for the Emmy's.

When I was waiting for a friend about a block from the Hammerstein Ballroom where the event was held, a woman in  floor-length peach dress with a matching wrap gracefully thrown over her shoulder passed me. She could have stepped in as a bridesmaid for any spring wedding. "I wonder where she's going," I thought. Guess who was in line for the show when I arrive? The bridesmaid!

While I glanced at the colorful crowd, I thought maybe I was being too harsh - part of the fun with fashion is being creative and comfortable in your clothes. I got a good laugh at some of the folks that night, but as long as they smiled at their reflection in the mirror before they left the house, that's all that matter. I know I did.