Knee-jerk makes you a plain jerk.

There is an interesting phenomenon (or shall I say disease) floating around the office lately and it's called the knee-jerk reaction. Something happens that management thinks is catastrophic and could end our very existence (can you hear the circa 1950's horror movie music because I can), when in reality, it isn't something that a good scouring of Monster.com couldn't solve, and they react. . . immediately. Without fail, this produces a crappy decision and therefore crappy outcome that will inevitably piss everyone off.
Good work. Way to make out working environment even less appealing by adding another bad decision to the roster. Word of advice? Maybe let the dust settle after these little events before decisions are made? Just a thought. But what do I know. . .

Keith. . . Be Still My Heart or Counterfeit Country?

I've developed the new, rather expensive hobby lately of going to concerts. In fact, I've made it a goal to one day be able to say 'I saw them in concert once!' to whichever music star's name makes it's way into everyday conversation. My friend Natalie has given me something to reach for - she's seen everyone. . . and I'm not kidding. You name it, she's purchased a ticket. Her repertoire includes the last two concerts I've been to; she attended both Justin Timberlake (shameless plug: best show in the history of the world. I'm sorry, but I can't get over it. He puts all other concerts to shame - even ones that I L-O-V-E-D before. JT wins. Hands down. But rather than blog about my undying love, I'll let you read/view Steph's thoughts as mine are a giant ditto!) as well as last night's soiree with none other than Keith Urban.

Brother Urban (haha) made his way to the Energy Solutions Arena for a rousing, Aussie-filled night of music and jamming on his guitar. The lights, the sound, the GIANT digital screen behind him made my night. Those teeth, that hair. . .Plus, he wasn't looking too shabby in his much-too-tight black t-shirt and jeans. No complaints.

My dad always jokes with me about loving 'goat-roping' music. . . which I must say, I do. I'll jam to Garth or Tim at any point in the day, I'm not afraid. But this very statement (plus some prodding from a certain cowboy I was with) actually made me question the validity of Keith's "countryness" throughout the night. Music on country radio, check. Banjo present in songs, check. House in Nashville, check. Tight jeans, check. But then I started seeing the issues. . .

Long, straight, luscious locks that HAVE to be flat-ironed, not country. Rocker t-shirt, not country. Sweat band on his wrists, not country. Tribal tattoos, not country. Slammin' guitar riffs that extend a song by about five minutes, not country. What was happening.

Now I'm at a loss. . . is Keith Urban truly the country hottie that I've always admire or is he simply a country impostor dressed as a hot man? Here's a couple of clips from the tour - you decide for yourself. I'm torn. One shows rocker Keith and the other, a more subdued, country side. Still adore him so don't think by any means that this will change any time soon, but I just don't know how to categorize this Aussie Hottie anymore?? Country Cowboy or Bon Jovi poser?

(fyi, these aren't my videos but you get the point)