One of the many things I’ve inherited from my father is a great bullshit detector. I pride myself on being able to read people very well, especially those that are full of it. There are of course the exceptions – some people do it very well and hard to detect at first blush - but for the most part, I think I’ve navigated the waters of the unctuous and insincere fairly well.

I think this in-built meter is part of what drives me nuts about acts of public contrition. (I am also realizing that my Englishness is coming out more and more every day). If you have to throw yourself on the mercy of the audience in tears and fits of emotional apologies, then my bet is you’re full of it and are purely doing it for the press. Furthermore, if your behavior was so bad to begin with to warrant a public apology, then that should’ve been your first red flag! Now granted, most people’s mistakes and flaws in life are done behind closed doors - as they should be. But for those in the public eye, the apology has been turned into a full scale circus act, complete with costume (I assure you, PR reps are orchestrating every move down to the color of one’s tie), tears, religious protestations and promises of redemption, and of course a well worded confessional that smacks of some thespian inspired soliloquy mixed with a few ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’ excerpts.

In the news in the UK recently – cause as I’ve mentioned before, this is apparently news – Naomi Campbell went on Oprah. A fabulous platform for confessionals by the way, if you can get on the mighty Opes, then you must really be sorry. Anyway, she of course spilled her guts about being a total rageaholic – as well as her dieting tips; I do love the juxtaposition (“no, I swear I’m so sorry about my behavior, and yes, I’m a size 2, isn't it fabulous!”). The tears were plentiful, the facial expressions contorted in remorse and regret, and the confessions, embarrassing to say the least. In short, if she does not get what she wants from hired help or the like, she goes mach-4 mental. 

So let me get this straight. You’re a millionaire. Your fiancé is a billionaire. You have a successful career, homes all over the world, and yet if your limo driver is late, you chuck your Manolo Blahnik at his head and hope to break skin? I'm unclear. At this point am I supposed to feel sorry for you? In my book, it’s quite simple: if you’re throwing shoes and electronic devices at those who you pay to serve you like slaves, I don’t care if you have Mandela on speed dial, you’re as spoiled as the day is long. And by going on television and admitting this glaring fact you're just embarrassing yourself. Please stop!

This is where I become quite English. I squirm at public revelations, the tears (and I’m an admitted weeper! But I of course would swallow my tongue before I’d go on TV and do this for the nation), the histrionics, the outright ploys to win the audience over to the dark side. Forgive me Ne Ne (that’s what I gather Naomi’s friends must call her. That or Surly Cow) but you’re not that sorry. You’re just sorry you keep getting caught, and the thought of doing more community service makes your botox smoothed skin wrinkle in sheer fear. My bet is, with the eleventh cell phone hurled in the air, you are clearly enjoying this.

That goes for the rest of you public figures out there caught with your pants down (in most cases, literally) – save the press conferences for the President, national disasters, actual news, and simply issue a statement that reads, ‘I’m a total idiot. I know this.’ (Hugh Grant did it brilliantly btw post prostitute scandal) The scary part is from where I sit, half the time it’s not the acts that even bother me, I can rationalize them – you see how low my expectations are when it comes to people – humans are very flawed and temptation is ripe especially for those who can have whatever they want. As we know, money, for many, is the most corruptible force out there. But it is the insincere apologies that drive me nuts. And lately they've been coming fast and furious, I can't even keep track of who did what and to whom. ("Wait are you the embezzler? Or did you sleep with 40 whores like some Roman Senator - wait, I meant U.S Senator. No, you threw a TV at your housekeepers head! That's right!") So please, save us your theatrical acts of contrition, and give us back our TV air space, cause no one is buying it.

I cry easily. I mean really easily. I can see something when I’m walking down the street and next thing I know I’m tearing up. I’m not bi-polar or anything (although I fully sympathize with those that are), I just have incredibly easy access to my emotions. I remember this one time I was passing a petting zoo in the park, and a little blind boy was petting a lamb for the very first time – hold on, I have to get a tissue. The look on his smiling face, the sheer joy and elation at feeling this animal’s fur for the very first time, well it sent me into an outright puddle of tears. And by the way, if that mere sight doesn’t stir any emotion in you, I’m slightly worried.

My partner loves it when I cry. He’s not sadistic, I assure you. He says he finds it cute that I’m so passionate. This fact I cannot escape. Trust me, I tried for years when I was young, as having emotions brimming under the surface was a shock to my teen system – was acne and trying to fit in not bad enough?? My boyfriend in college used to hate going to movies with me, cause he said that every time I left the theater I wanted to take up a new cause, be it environmental, political or the socially conscious. After seeing Roger & Me, I wanted to picket the GM headquarters in nearby Detroit (I was at school in Ann Arbor at the time); and of course after ‘Finding Nemo’ I decided that keeping fish in tanks was barbaric. Then again, I think my feminist stage post Thelma and Louise was the most challenging for those around me. Coupled with my newly declared major of 'Women Studies' where I'd scream about the oppression of women, well, I was not such a joy to be around I'm thinking. Although don't get me wrong, I still think the treatment of women round the world is pretty pathetic.

Then I realized, if I could harness these pesky emotions, I could work them to my advantage. I quickly noticed that it helped with singing, writing (if I cry when writing a scene, I know I’ve nailed it), even domestic disputes – as I said, some men are suckers for tears. I think it freaks the hell out of them especially those men that claim they never cry. I of course take this as a challenge and make it my quest to see if I can find the thing that will make them spill forth. Okay, mildly sadistic, but I consider myself doing them a service of opening up their emotional channels.

Certain things, thank god have mellowed with age. In short, I just don’t have the energy I used to, to take up every cause and shout it from the rooftops (although this blog ain’t such a bad platform). However, as for my passion, it is still live and kicking. Our house is a hotbed of debate sometimes over the global to the utterly pointless – i.e. cleaning a mirror in the correct manner so as to prevent streaking [As you can see, my partner shares my sense of passion. God love him]. Clearly it was a slow news day that day and we were aching for some sort of debate.

My sister has started referring to me as Mary Poppins, because there is not a day that goes by that I don’t email her about some discovery I’ve made – be it the ridiculously mundane ("I just had a strawberry that tasted like a pineapple! It's some new hybrid fruit.")  or some new grand scheme or goal I’ve set for myself. But in these times, I think why the hell not. I think getting excited over the little things is a good thing, and there are a lot of amazing little pleasures out there to behold. And of course I happily remind my partner that he should be thankful that he's with a woman that is made happy by a nicely buttered crumpet and not a nice buttery new Chanel leather bag! (although I’m sure that would make me smile as well. I’m not a total moron.) I figure, when it comes to the big things – like childbirth – my mind is really going to be blown. Hell, beats a life of disappointment. 

I have never understood when people insist on renewing their wedding vows. Okay, fine, I can make an exception for those who do it after they’ve been married 50 years. That’s a milestone, and in today’s times a serious feat. And in their defense, they’re probably having trouble remembering what the vows said anyway. [But then again, isn’t that why we created anniversaries? To celebrate, commemorate, remember that so-called blessed day?]

Over the weekend Mariah Carey squeezed herself into a large lace sausage casing and renewed her vows. She’s been married a year. A YEAR. I realize in the entertainment industry she is probably so impressed her and her toy boy even made it 12 months, but seriously? Are their mutual memories so bad that they need to hear the vows again just to make sure they heard them right?...“Oh, he said obey!….Wait a minute, I’m loaded, I don’t obey, I order. I command damn it! Can we scratch that last sentence cause me and the Mister want to make it to next year.” 

My other favorite impetus for celebs renewing their vows in the single digits of marriage is the old "there are rumors I’ve cheated – but let’s ignore them shall we – and now I’m feeling all romantic. Let’s solidify our union sweetheart!” Yeah, sure. Solidify THIS. 

For me, this is yet another way in which marriage has come to be treated like an amusement park ride. People get on all excited, bursting with anticipation. They spin around a few times, realize the first go round was the best, they get bored, want to get off and usually end up puking in a nearby trashcan. Okay, perhaps some last longer than a few rounds, and go back for more, but no one ever stays on that thing for life. And yet these are the exact people that tell you how wonderful marriage is, and how everyone should do it.

Don’t get me wrong, there are those that make marriage look like it is indeed wonderful. And moreover, they respect it. They actually do the work it entails and realize that what they signed up for is far from easy, but they signed on the dotted line and so be it. But sadly, statistics don’t lie, and these people are in the minority.

My other absolute favorite argument about marriage is how sanctified it is, and how we must protect it – especially from GASP, those same sex couples who want to marry too. [Gosh, they want equal rights?? How dare they]. So you’re telling me that us heterosexuals out there have treated marriage as some sacred thing? Divorce is at 60% and climbing. Cheating has become a national sport.  And half of people that marry don’t even do it in a church (they’re excited about the tax cuts, not God’s blessing, trust me on this!). Not to mention that one can get married by Elvis in some chapel with flashing lights and ACDC playing in the background while the bride and groom spit tobacco chew into an empty can of lager, and you’re telling me this is sacred?

The other thing I always find amusing are those that tell me how different it is once you do get married (and they always sound patronizing when they say it). Okay, let’s see if we can break this down. You’re legally bound to one another, but you can divorce. So it’s not so binding now is it? You made choices to ‘love and honor in sickness and health’…but most married couples I see throw honor out the window after a few years (some sooner) and men are utterly useless at caretaking when women get sick. And as far as I can tell, myself and my – lover, shall we call him – have cohabitated for years and are totally committed, signed paper or not. And yet, I still have to tell him to pick up his clothes off the floor, we bicker like an old married couple, and we fight over the TV remote. How different could marriage be? Plus, in crude terms, no piece of paper on the great wide earth is going to keep a couple together if one of the betrothed wants out. He's walking right out the sanctified door, trust me on this.

So, my message to those who are not yet able to enter this ‘holy’ union: Screw it. Us unmarried folk have it good. We may not get tax cuts, but we don’t have to obey anyone. Renew that!