Dear Diary, Wasn’t feeling well when I went to bed last night. Headache, stomach ache, joint pain. Too late to call a doctor (even though I could have, that’s I favor I don’t want to call in unless it’s real emergency, like I set myself on fire, or Cooper sliced his arm off, or worst of all, my finger is
Dear Diary, I was looking in the mirror this morning and reminded myself that pretty is as pretty does. ☺
Dear Diary, I have a confession: Don Lemon is my Emotional Support NewsAnchor. If Don is calm, all is good in my world. I can face whatever slings and arrows come my way. He’s my human Xanax … especially when combined with a nice glass of Pinot. I love him. I’m obsessed with him. But honestly, I’m worried about him.
Oh, one more thing about the flight home from New York. The MAGA guy sitting next to me was an upgrade to First Class. He had enough Frequent Flyer miles that he could move up from coach, and guzzle beer and burp in the company of appropriately-dressed people who paid full-fare. Look, I have nothing against mileage upgrades; I
I flew home from New York yesterday and I wound up sitting next to a guy who was wearing a purple Ed Hardy t-shirt and a red Make America Great Again hat. I was horrified. Horrified! It made me really sad. Not just because of the children in cages, and the pathological lying, and the vulgarity and the porn stars.