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I’m the first to promote the bootstrapper spirit, but I’m also first to promote intelligent decisions. And sometimes “crossing that bridge when we come to it,” isn’t as free-spirited as it is stupid. What happens when there’s no bridge? Sure, you can build one. But it may end up costing you significantly money, energy, time, heartache and headaches than if you had just taken the fucking flight. Plan on being successful from day one. Hear me talk about this

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The only way to make money is to stop thinking about how to make money, and start thinking about how to make MEANING. By which I don’t necessarily mean yours. Do we want you to do something you ? Sure. But successful business mos aren’t all about you; they’re about what you can do for other people. What meaning can you bring to their lives? I don’t care how much you something–will you be able to create a successful

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Let me ask you a question: Does your word MEAN anything? Are you a woman of your word? A man of your word? A professional of your word? In my business interactions with people, I’ve been left shocked–disgusted, actually–at the lack of professional integrity. I’ve hired contractors who disappear mid-project, clients who drop off the face, employees who don’t do their job, colleagues who kiss each others’ asses to manufacture testimonials, bosses (once upon a time), who make out with

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Last week, I wrote about 23 reasons why working for yourself will drive you to drink, to which I promptly received at least three slightly worrisome es from people actually concerned for my health. All I can figure is those individuals must think the title was literal, and I’m really the hugest day drinker ever, and every other hour of my work day is sandwiched with vodka shots, to which I say, please.  If I were going to main vodka,

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I’m not sure if you’ve ever served ice cream for a living, but there’s one thing you should know: It’s terrifying. From little league ball teams showing up twenty seconds before close (always a great time), to people who NEVER SPECIFY WHAT SIZE THEY WANT EVEN THOUGH THE PRICE IS DIRECTLY CORRELATED TO THE SIZE AND “A VANILLA” IS NOT SPECIFIC AT ALL AND NOW I HAVE TO ASK YOU WHAT SIZE YOU WANT EVEN THOUGH YOU SHOULD HAVE ALREADY

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We arrived in the pouring rain. And by pouring rain, I mean torrential downpour. Because that’s how Costa Rica rolls. We didn’t have a reservation–100% our fault–so we quite agreeably had to be seated in the back of the restaurant, in the billiards room, at a lone table, watching the wait staff run back and forth from the kitchen to the main dining room. Which, really, was than fine. Our fault. We didn’t mind. Hey–at least we were there. At the

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Employment freaks me out. It’s hard to imagine putting all of your intellectual, emotional, and physical energy into a company – with nothing to show for it at the end of the day. Or, the end of your life. Maybe a savings, if you were discipd enough, or a 401K, but aside from that, you’re left with a former title and a few keepsake peppermint candies. That’s because when you’re living off a salary that someone else grants you, you don’t

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If you’ve ever seen me after a vodka cranberry or two, you know the one thing I get heated up about the most is BUSINESS. I start saying snippy things like, “What moron wrote that on the sign?” or “Estelle Getty could have designed a better website,” or, “Who the hell wakes up and thinks, ‘Oh, I know! I’m going to open a new restaurant and serve pizza AND sushi.’” The pizza and sushi thing really bothers me. Ditto the

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So last night I did what any young lady would do whose internet has been down since Friday and, as a result, is staying in a randomly-selected hotel to mooch mega-bytes: Wondered what the fine would be for accidentally stealing one of these “firm” pillows–these things are fucking impressive. Side-kicked the air-conditioner upon discovering there was no mini-bar. (Random hotel selection = bad idea.) Contemplated how much a baby St. Bernard would cost, whether or not I could find one

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When I was hired as Director of PR for AWeber, the VP of Operations called me into his office two weeks after I had started, and offered me $2,000 to leave the company. “You’ve been here two weeks now,” he started, “and you probably have a good idea if this is a place you’re going to enjoy working at–or not.” I nod calmly. “So,” he tells me, “if you don’t think it’s a good fit, I’m going to give you

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Lather up. Choose the perfume-scented body lotion. Put every last hair into place. Rock your most exquisite piece of clothing. Wink at yourself in the mirror. Pull out the stops. Lo fucking smashing. And then get to work. Because when you feel like a baller? YOU ACT LIKE ONE.

Ever jump in a pool fully clothed? You gotta try it. Border rebellious, without landing you a spot in jail, or any unplanned pregnancies. (Usually.) I’m pretty sure I’ve jumped into pools clothed than the average human being, which must qualify me for something. Something other than the insane asylum. Or the WWF. My favorite occasion, since we’re clearly having a discussion about this, was at a national sales conference in Atlanta, Georgia. There we were, myself and the

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What a fucking hangover. I spent the evening talking marketing (and drinking too many lemontinis) with Carlitros and an interestingly powerful man who owns a pineapple plantation, a beach front hotel, a brand new, gorgeous condominium complex and some other entities. How many fuckers do you know that own a pineapple plantation? Exactly. (I have, of course, arranged a tour of the pineapple plantation for next Thursday–I’ll have to shoot some video for you to see. Pina coladas will undoubtedly

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Annndddd intoxicate 2012 continues! {Read post 1 of the intoxicate series here.} On a Friday night. Except you’re probably not reading this on a Friday night. Because you’re probably doing something all cute with your significant other. Or maybe you don’t have a significant other, in which case you’re most likely out drag racing cars, a la Fast and the Furious. I know that’s what I’d be doing. I’m pretty sure it’s going to become my next hobby. Which pair

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Here’s the thing about possibility. It’s fucking endless. We’ve got so much possibility, we don’t know what to do with it all. As members of the Western World, we can do a lot of whatever we dream. The problem occurs, however, when there are too many dreams to pick from. And that’s when we get deer-in-the-headlights syndrome, and freeze up like idiots. Because we’d rather make no choice, than make the wrong one. But I believe that deep down–or not

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His name is Oskar. He’s Rastafarian. I met him when I first came to Costa Rica in 2004 and watched him trying to sell his paintings day after day on the beach, sweating, struggling to speak English to the tourists who passed by, working from dusk until the wee hours of the night to make ends meet, some days going without any food in his stomach because he needed the little money he did have to buy paint. “I

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Can we please talk about the fact that tonight, I’m getting a ride to the airport from a random, way-skinnier-than-me (and probably you) Vietnamese woman named Kim, who works at the random nail salon where I got a pedicure yesterday? Yeah. That’s fucking weird, and it’s totally happening. And I’m totally excited about it, mostly so I can write about it here, which obviously benefits us all, but also so I can attempt to force feed her some lard while

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So, I had this grand epiphany the other day. You see, I’ve always wanted a pet peeve. Everyone’s got a pet peeve. At least one. But me? Not so much. I’ve never really had a solid pet peeve of my own, which has clearly left me feeling pretty deprived. I mean, what kind of a person doesn’t have a pet peeve? A nice person, maybe, but we all know I’m not a nice person. Nice people are only called nice

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This. This is why I do what I do. Just got these two es in a row, and I wanted to share, because it’s uplifting for me, and I hope I can encourage and inspire you to do your own best work…so you can get your inbox flooded with these things, too. It feels AMAZING. Amazing as in the light-headed, luscious feeling you used to get when you had that crush on that neighborhood boy. Or girl. Or your best

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You know you can choose, right? I’m not sure if we’ve forgotten this, or if it’s just too scary. Or maybe, just maybe, because it’s too scary, we prefer to forget. CHOICE. It’s scary because it implies pressure–the pressure to make the right choice. It’s scary because it implies consequence–the consequences that will happen if you don’t. But most of all, it’s scary because it implies control–control over our lives and what the hell happens next. But despite what they

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First of all, can we talk about the fact that this photo exists? Lo at that smugness, like I’m runnin’ the whole damn airport. Pilots, report to me! Yes, yes. Precisely what I’d say. Ridiculous stuff like this is probably what inspired my mom to write me a card once, when I was in middle school, that said: Mommy and Ashie sittin’ in a tree Ashie said, “Mommy, what will I be?” Mommy said, “Ashie, you’ll be a real winner…

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