Are you packing?

My husband and I leave for Ohio tomorrow for the holiday weekend to see my older sister and her family and I haven't packed a stitch of clothing!

That's not like me. I hate last-minute packing, but it was a last-minute decision to take the trip, hence we're driving the nine hours to get there. I love my sister and all, but I refuse to shell out $900 for a plane ticket to the mid-west. Plus, I've been crazy busy this week and haven't had a chance to even pull out my Coach weekend bag. I bought this bag in hopes that my husband would whisk me away for the weekend. That hasn't happened.

But I digress.

Since my husband travels a lot for work, he's become an expert packer. All he needs is about 15 minutes to throw a few pairs of pants and shirts in a suitcase. He has a few pairs of socks, undershirts, boxers and a set of toiletries that always stay packed, so he will be ready to head out in a moments notice. And he normally wears the same pair of shoes he travels in.

I, on the other hand, take forever to pack. No matter where we're going - a casual few days in Memphis, my hometown, or Paris, France, I stress over what to bring. I pull out outfits, lay them on the bed then accessorize jewelry and shoes. I always overpack, no matter how many shirts, skirts, dresses or pants I put back in the closet. I must have been crazy to think that I was only going to bring a carry-on for two weeks in South Africa. Ha! That turned out to be a horrible packing experience. I pretty much turned our guest bedroom into my closet for a week while I carefully packed my checked bag. There were clothes everywhere.

Once I decide exactly what to bring, then there's the actual packing the suitcase. Is it better to roll or fold? Everyone I've talked with says roll. I usually roll stuff that won't wrinkle easily and lay clothes across the rolled clothes that will require an iron if I would have rolled them. I don't believe in ironing, which is why my dry cleaning bill is so expensive. I rather pay to have it dry cleaned and professionally pressed than to lug out an ironing board.

So, as I'm typing this blog, I'm thinking about what to take to Ohio. Dresses would be the easiest choice because it's one item a day. And considering it's 12:45 a.m. Friday as I'm finishing this entry, (I started writing at 2 p.m., but got called away to cover some breaking news) the packing may have to wait until the very last minute - the morning.

How you doin'?

That's radio and now television talk-show host Wendy Williams' catch phrase.

You have to say the "doin'" very exaggerated.

If Wendy Williams were to ask me that, I'd have to tell her not good and it's her fault!

I love, love, love Wendy Williams, but had to stop the love last week when I tried to see her new daytime talk show, The Wendy Williams Show on FOX. She had a six-week run in four markets. Her radio show on WBLS is broadcast out of New York City, so that's where the show was taped.

I requested tickets as soon as the website went up, which was about two months ago. I finally received an email about a week ago, confirming me for Thursday, during the last week of the six-week run. I was super excited - one I was going to see Wendy Williams in person for a length of time, and two, I was spending the day in my beloved NYC!

According to the show directions, guests had to be in line before 11 a.m. for the 1 p.m. taping. My friend, Erica, and I arrived at 10:35 a.m. and were numbers 66 and 67. We were given blue tickets, which meant we were guaranteed a spot in the studio audience, according to a crew member. Folks who arrived after 11 a.m. received yellow tickets and no guarantee.

We waited, in the hot sun, slowly moving closer to the door. Occasionally, a crew member would come out and make an announcement and apologize for the long wait.

"It's taking them forever to move people through security," she explained.

We continued to wait.

One hour passed.

More announcements about security and heartless apologies.

Two hours passed.

There were four people separating Erica and me from the door. I could even feel the cool air from inside as it opened.

Then, a different crew member - the bearer of bad news - came out and said that the studio was full. She explained that Wendy Williams had invited too many of her friends and more seats than usual were reserved for VIP.

And here I was thinking I was VIP with my now useless blue ticket.

People cursed. Arms were folded across chests. Someone even threw something. I couldn't make it out, but I think it was that darned blue ticket!

"The best we can do is put you in the 'How you doin'?' room. There's coffee and Munchkins in there and Wendy will greet you after the show," she said.

What?! Did I just stand in the hot sun for two hours getting lied to over and over about gaining entry into the studio? Incredible! I was pissed.

So, Erica and I left in a huff and went to the closest bar we could find and drank our lunch: a pitcher of white sangria.

Wendy Williams' show was picked up for a full season beginning next year. Good for her. Hopefully she will save more seats for the true fans, those who wait in line for hours just to get a glimpse of her big blond wig, than her friends.

What in the world did we walk into?

I'm sure that's what my parents were thinking Saturday as we walked around the Jersey City LGBT (Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender) Pride Festival.

My parents were in town from Memphis for a few days and my husband and I took them to Jersey City for a couple of open houses because we're considering moving to that area. On the way to the third home, we passed a festival. Music was blaring. Balloons were flying. And there was a smell of grease in the air. We decided to stop to get something to drink and see what was going on.

I think I noticed the rainbow flags first, because a few minutes after realizing what kind of festival it was, my mother asked, "Is this a gay event?"

Now, my parents are uber religious and ultra conservative. They're the kind who pray that homosexuals find their way back to the land of straightness, since God certainly didn't allow them to be born that way.

I, on the other hand, believe people are born the way God intended - lesbian, gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, etc.

So, I turned to my mother, not sure what expression I'd see on her face, and told her that it was an LGBT event. Her reply: "Oh."

We walked around for about 45 minutes, got something to drink, listened to a woman sing Gladys Knight and the Pips' "Neither One of Us," which my parents enjoyed, and got some goodie bags.

On the way to the car, my mother asked my father if he was looking. There were tons of men in tight shorts and no shirts; women wearing short skirts and the occasional drag queen. And love was in the air - men kissing men, women holding the hand of their girlfriends, a butt grab, a back rub. You get the picture. No one in the crowd was shy.

My father said he wasn't looking. My mother said she was looking enough for the both of them. They laughed.

I think the festival was slight culture shock for my parents. There is a gay community in Memphis, but they don't frequent it. I thought it was good for my parents to see that the LGBT community is just like any other community - looking for friendship, companionship, acceptance and love.

What's the point of deodorant?

I'm asking this in jest. I know exactly why we wear deodorant - so we won't stink.

But I forgot to put on deodorant this morning. There are no offensive smells yet because I haven't broken a sweat today. My office is cold and I'm hoping there won't be breaking news that will send me into the streets for hours on end to bake in the hot sun. If that happens, forgot it!

When I told my younger sister that I forgot to put on deodorant, she said that's like saying I forgot to brush my teeth.

But to me, it's not. I love to brush my teeth. I'm a serial brusher and flosser. My dentist told me that if I keep it up, I'll have my teeth for life. But I have to verbally remind myself to put on deodorant. When I get out of the shower, if I don't remember to take the Secret Platinum out of the drawer, there's a good chance, the powder fresh smell may not make it to my underarms. Some people put on deodorant right after bathing, but I wait until after I put on my clothes, so it won't smear on my shirt or dress.

Egyptians are credited with creating deodorant - or at least a substance to kill underarm smell. Armpits are consistently the warmest places on people's bodies. They used carob, incense and porridge. Mum, which resembles today's form of deodorant was created in 1888 by an unknown inventor from Philadelphia. Since then, deodorant has evolved and is combined with antiperspirants, which attempt to stop or significantly reduce perspiration.

With deodorants so readily available, everyone doesn't use them. Cultures and individuals differ in their beliefs about the need for deodorant, and on whether bodily odors are offensive. While I respect other's cultures, unless you're a baby or young child, you need to wear deodorant. And even some kids need deodorant.

So, hopefully, I will get through the day without sweating. And the point may be mute by tonight, but the first thing I'm going to do when I get home is to put on some deodorant!

The things we do for love

I was on the New Jersey Turnpike at 4:15 this morning - not because I wanted to, but because I love my husband.

My husband's job requires him to travel about 30-40 percent of the time. Usually, the business trips are on the East Coast, so he drives his company car. But occasionally, he has a trip that requires him to fly. This time, it was Houston.

I was not a happy camper last night when he said "5:30," after I asked him what time his flight left.

"In the morning?" I questioned, already frowning my face.

"Yep. In the morning," he replied, knowing I don't like to roll over good before 9 a.m. (I have flexible work hours and usually get to the office around 10:30 a.m.)

"You couldn't have left today?" I asked.

"I could have, but the flight was twice as much and it had a layover. Going from Continental one hub to another Continental hub should not require a layover," he said.

I looked at him with my best version of puppy-dog eyes, tilted my head to the side and stuck out my bottom lip.

"I'll drive myself," he finally said.

"No, no. I'll take you. That's what a good wife does," I sarcastically said.

So, the alarm clock went off at 4 a.m. and we were out of the door by 4:15 a.m.

It was a quiet ride - there's not much to say at that insane hour.

We were at the airport by 4:45 a.m. and I was back at home and in bed by 5:15 a.m.

I love my husband, but next time, he's driving himself!

When image gets in the way of decency

According to news reports, an estimated one billion people watched the 2008 Summer Olympic's opening ceremonies Friday evening when Lin Miaoke, 9, sang “Ode to the Motherland.”

She was charming and cute, in pigtails, a red dress and white shoes.

But it wasn't her voice that was heard around the world. Rather, it was Yang Peiyi, 7, who did the singing.

Yang, cute in a seven-year-old way, with crooked teeth and a short bob, was not as appealing as Lin, with bright eyes, long hair and surprisingly straight teeth for a youngster. And that's why she wasn't placed in the spotlight for the world to awe.

“The reason was for the national interest,” explained Chen Qigang, general music designer of the opening ceremonies, who revealed the deception during a radio interview. “The child on camera should be flawless in image, internal feeling and expression.”

Lin didn't even know that it wasn't her voice. Her father noticed that she sounded differently, but blamed the acoustics.

Chinese lawmakers are so concerned with the way other countries perceive the economic powerhouse, that they favored beauty over talent. If it's not explained with kid gloves to Yang why she wasn't chosen to be in the spotlight, she could grow up feeling inadequate, not as pretty as the next girl and with low self-esteem.

Was China's image worth all of that? In my opinion, no.

The human race

About three weeks ago, a young black man walked into a gas station in New Jersey, stole the money from the cash register and shot the attendant, who was Indian.

Around the same time, another young black man walked into a Chinese restaurant, which is across the street from the gas station, robbed the place at gunpoint and shot a worker, who was Chinese.

Sunday, more than 500 blacks marched through that neighborhood denouncing the violence. I was one of them. The march was organized by my church, which is in the same neighborhood as the businesses where the employees were shot. My pastor wanted to send a message that no matter what race, we all need to be concerned when violence affects our community.

We marched, in the drizzling rain, chanting "Stop the violence" and "enough is enough."

Our destination was the gas station, where we stood hand-in-hand and prayed for the victims. A family member of the gas station attendant spoke, saying that his cousin would never work again - the shooting paralyzed him. He said that more than one person was shot that day - six were. The attendant was working to take care of his parents, wife and two children.

Fortunately, the victim at the Chinese restaurant is recuperating at home.

As I marched, chanted and prayed tears welled up in my eyes. I thought of the victims and their families, how vulnerable we all are and how senseless violence is. While I was sad for the victims, it made my heart happy to see so many blacks supporting those of other races. Everyone's first race should be the human race.

"Have a good day, honey."

That's what an attendant at the Exxon gas station says to me every time he fills my car. And every time he says it, it irks me.

I'm sure the young man, who looks no more than 22, means no harm, but to me, "honey" is a term of endearment meant to be used either by my husband or parents - not the random guy at the gas station.

This Exxon station is by my job. I noticed it about two months ago when I was out trolling for gas that was less than $4.45 a gallon for supreme. At the time, they were selling it for about $4.43 a gallon, so I pulled in.

The "honey guy" didn't wait on me that day, but the next time I filled up, he did the pumping. As he returned my debit card and handed me the receipt, he said, "Have a nice day, honey." I was taken aback. Should I be flattered? He was cute, after all. Or should I be offended? He didn't know me like that.

I was offended, but didn't dwell on it.

About a month passed before the "honey guy" filled up my car again, which was last week. I actually had forgotten about the incident until he said it again. "Have a nice day, honey," rolled off of his lips as easily as "hello" or "good-bye."

"OK, that's it", I thought, "The next time he fills my car and calls me 'honey,' I need to say something."

The next time was this morning.

I pulled into the station and saw him approaching my car. "If he doesn't say it, I won't say anything," I thought. But he said it.

As soon as the word "honey" left his lips, I said, "Hey, come back."

He turned around and I told him that I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it, but I'm offended when he calls me "honey."

"Just remember my face and my car and please don't call me 'honey' anymore," I instructed.

He looked a little shocked and said "OK."

I told him to have a nice day and he said the same.

Just don't call me honey!

Airline now charging for sleep

It started with food and drinks, then moved to checked baggage. Now, it's sleep.

Jet Blue recently announced that it will charge passengers $7 for a pillow and blanket. This is on top of the hundreds of dollars you will spend to get a ticket. Are times really this tight or are airlines taking advantage of the fact that once you board their planes, you're captive for a couple to 20 hours, so they can just charge you for anything?

These days, travelers are stuck between a rock and a hard place - with gas prices skyrocketing, it costs just as much to take a road trip as it does to purchase a plane ticket. Traveling by car used to be the cheaper option, but depending on how far you're going to get to grandma's house, it's not anymore.

So, you shell out $300 for a two-hour flight. Add $80 bucks if you're flying Northwest, which said it will tack on that amount beginning in January for a fuel surcharge. When you get to the airport, you realize your bag's too big to go in the overhead compartment. It will cost you extra to check it if you're flying American, United or US Airways.

Don't be thirsty when you board the plane, because US Airways also charges for water, yes, water, and other beverages.

And I'll just be cold and uncomfortable before I pay $7 for a pillow and blanket, even if it comes with a $5 coupon to Bed, Bath and Beyond that I may or may not use.

I love to travel, but airline surcharges are out of control. They know some people will always travel no matter how much the prices increase or what crazy item they're charging extra for, but the executives need to think from the travelers' point of view and stop this madness!