Guys. While driving around Palo Alto this week, I saw FOURTEEN naked ladies!

It was glorious.

Guys! I'm, like, super proud of myself right now, for a relatively stupid and minor reason. To save myself from watching, like, 10 more hours of HBO's new show, Sharp Objects...

I Googled a plot summary of Gillian Flynn's 2007 novel of the same name so I will no longer feel the vague urge to waste my time seeing what happens next.

Image source: NWS Seattle

Last night, after the most epic of all jam sessions (there was this moment when we were harmonizing Simon Garfunkel's "America," and we looked at each other and the sound of our voices meeting was, like, totally chilling), I said goodnight to my singing buddy and headed home. 

But before I even got halfway, I messaged him: "Have you seen the moon tonight? If not, GO LOOK! Venus is really close to the moon right now."

Growing up, I could NOT complain about being bored. If I did, my mom would tell me, "Boring people lead boring lives." It never felt good to hear -- but guess what? I grew up into a person who never feels bored -- and who almost takes concerns like, "It might not be fun for you," or, "I'm afraid you'd be bored," as an insult.

Similarly, as an adult, I sometimes find myself telling people who claim that Valentine's Day is "dumb," "commercialized," or a "Hallmark holiday": "It's only dumb if you make it dumb." 

"If you find it uninspiring, it's only because you​ are uninspired.

One of the most valuable classes I ever took at Stanford... was Dance 46: Social Dance I. After a lifetime of feeling totally awkward and weird on the dance floor, I can now look forward to feeling comfortable -- and even skilled -- on any dance floor. For the rest of my life.

Mounting evidence shows that over-supervising and over-scheduling your child stunts their emotional and cognitive development. But now we know it stunts their physical development, too.

Last night, I made the biggest mistake of my life: I watched Open House, a Netflix original movie in which nothing happens for 80 minutes, and then in the last 10 minutes, everyone dies. You never find out who did it. It's literally just some random killer who is in no way connected to the characters or plot (except for when he kills them).

The movie was awful -- to the point that it is actually kind of offensive. But worse is the fact that I can never have that Monday night back. It's gone.

People who don't know much about life coaching love to poo poo life coaching. Like, looooove. 

And I understand why. The idea that a 25-year-old with two years of work experience knows what it takes to make you a CEO... is a little absurd. 

Let's bust yet another popular psychology myth.

"Money doesn't buy happiness."

"Opposites attract."

​​"Before others can love you, you have to love yourself."

Popular psychology is full of myths and misperceptions. Money does buy happiness (if you know how to spend it). We like people who are like us (though, often, people who are complementary attract.) And saying, "Before others can love you, you have to love yourself," is ridiculous, and makes zero sense.

Last night was a rough night for basketball. Not only did Gordon Hayward suffer a horrific leg injury... but three (three!) of the guys I like playing with were unavailable for pickup, because it was "date night."

​What are the odds, right?

But it got me thinking, "How come I've never done date night before?"​