The Nanny: Face of American Diplomacy?!

Fran Drescher was named by the Deputy Secretary of State Goli Ameri as a U.S. Diplomatic Envoy on Women's Health. See the video here.

Apparently being a diplomatic envoy doesn't take a lot. A C-list actress with a sob story and admirable cause can even get the title. Before Drescher the baseball great Cal Ripken, whose claim to fame includes the longest playing streak, and ice dancer Michelle Kwan, who is still famous despite never getting Jeff Gillooly'd, both had the title as well.

President Elect Obama's administration, which has even more ties with Hollywood, will hand out the falling positions as well:

Steve Urkel - Deputy Secretary of State
John Rambo - Secretary of Department of Veteran Affairs
Travis Bickle - Secretary of Department of Transportation
John McClane - Secretary of Department of Homeland Security
Paige Davis - Secretary of Department of Interior

Tattoos Give You Power

After years of wanting a tattoo, I finally got one. It's a cool dragon with flames wrapped around a sword. I got it on the underside of my forearm.

I had always wondered why tattoos are cool. Now I finally know. They must be imbued with some sort of special power. When I have a tattoo I am not afraid to holla at some cute girl. I don't care how many bullets they shoot at me. And I even talk back to night club bouncers.

Yesterday night I went out with Sonny's girl and her friends. Sonny wasn't jealous; we have a very open and understanding relationship. A bouncer cuts directly between me and the girl I'm dancing with. That's just bad etiquette. You can cut between a group that is talking, or rub against someone as you're passing them, but you don't push yourself through two who are people dancing.

So I simply asked, "Yo man what's the deal?"

To which he immediately responded, "You got a F***** problem, bitch?!" (Bitch is less severe than an f-bomb in my mind)

I told him I have no problem, just wondering why he pushed through me like that. Apparently he took that as a window for more pushing, but this kind was more deliberate. He also threw a light punch--either he's weak or he just wasn't intending to hurt me--that connected with my cheek.

The head of security came over to see what was going on. I rejoined my friends, but couldn't help but laugh obnoxiously at the whole situation. Our friend the bouncer didn't like this. He kept staring me down, until I did the unthinkable and gave him a little wave.

This sent him into a flurry of rage for some reason, where he came over, shoved me a few times, and then put me in a headlock and started pulling me towards the entrance. I just threw my hands up in the air to show that I wasn't doing anything; and I was laughing. A lot.

Another bouncer pulled him off me but then continued to lead me towards the exit, where he reached up and ripped my armband off my wrist so that I couldn't re-enter. Upon exiting I immediately sought out the cops and reported the incident. Because I didn't slur or curse and actually used some larger vocabulary words I think they took the incident more seriously.

The moral of the story is that because I had a tattoo I didn't care what the bouncer did. I could laugh in the face of "danger" and keep a cool head.

My only concern is what will happen in a few days when it rubs off all the way.