I’ve met Martha Stewart.  I was at a movie premiere for a quirky martial arts flick called “Romeo Must Die” starring Jet Li and the late Aaliyah.  I really don’t remember much about the film except that we scored custom-made kimonos and Aaliyah was delightful to be around.

At the premiere, Martha was wearing a ‘do-rag on her head.  I barely recognized her.  Given the tone of the film, me thinks she was trying to be gangsta.   Seems she is tight with producer Joel Silver – which would explain the large amount of floral arrangements arbitrarily placed in every other shot.  Kung Fu and chrysanthemums … a weird combination.

My point is … this week’s episode of “What The Chic” is my ode to Martha Stewart.  I’m not artsy or craftsy, but thanks to the magic of TV, I look like I know EXACTLY what I’m doing.  I typically call it “arts and crap” because I don’t have the time or patience to decorate.  Surprising, eh?  My Aunt Margaret was blessed with our family’s design gene.  She can create an amazing scarecrow centerpiece out of straw, pipe cleaners and lint.  She’s the MacGyver of accent pieces.

When I found out I was creating the perfect tablescape, I immediately asked an important question:  “What the hell is a tablescape?”  Turns out the definition is “find as much stuff as humanly possible and arrange it willy-nilly on a table to make it look like it has a theme.”  You’ll note my arrangement in this piece is STUNNING.  Borderline gorgeous.  Of course, there is so much crap on the table, there’s barely room for plates, glasses or silverware – let alone food.   The table was too gorgeous to eat at – so I suggested my guests stand and eat.  Several opted to eat sitting in the corner.  Didn’t matter.  I figured the further my guests were away from the table the less likely they’d notice I’d stole things from their backyards and front porches for my “theme”.

All in all, my first attempt at TV decorating was a success.  At least from what I can tell.  I’d inhaled so many fumes from spray-painting those pumpkins; I spent much of dinner having a conversation with a large gourd.  Happens.  No wonder Martha always looks so happy.

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It’s taken years of practice, but I’ve managed to virtually erase a good majority of my facial expressions … but only when necessary.  Seems my non-verbal communicative skills (such as eye-rolling, smirking, lip biting) are dead giveaways to what I’m thinking.  Well that … and I usually say exactly what I’m thinking.

I’m not a big crier.  Oh, I’ll have those moments where I tear up occasionally – but only because it proves my theory I’m not a heartless robot.  Well, last night while watching this week’s episode of “Glee”, I bawled.  Not once.  Not twice.  But three times.   “Glee” is usually a sassy, sparkly little show filled with showtunes and plenty of jazz hands.  Last night was no different, but it eeked an emotional response out of me … uh, thrice.

It was gut-wrenching sobbing, people.  The sort of ugly cry where you can’t catch your breath even if you tried.  And the weird part?  It came out of left field.  I was watching the show intently … felt a little catch in my throat … and then suddenly the waterworks started in earnest.   My poor roommate thought someone had died … or that perhaps I was dying (or at a minimum losing my mind).

Wednesday’s episode summed up my entire high school and college experience in sixty minutes.  Minus the teen pregnancy part.  It was tightly written, but left a lot of room to include ridiculous teen angst and malaise.  I relate to so many of the show’s characters it’s ridiculous.   Was someone spying on me in high school … or was there someone who had the same four-year experience I did?  Impossible, I say.

“Glee” is quickly becoming the story of my life.  I watch every week to see how I turn out … er, what happens next.   If you haven’t watched the show – you’re missing out, believe me.  It’s “The Breakfast Club” for us 30-somethings.

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