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.
Summer has officially* come to an end, so it’s time to look back and write a “what I did on my summer vacation” entry. What I did on my summer “vacation” was sweat, schlep and get scowled at. My handsome, darling, wonderful, teenaged son, Cooper, will be graduating from high school next June … assuming he doesn’t wind up
Dear Diary, If you thought finding Osama bin Laden in Pakistan was a tough task, try finding the right shrink in Hollywood. In order to find Dr. Fishman, I needed eight references, twelve suggestions and Navy Seal Teams Six thru’ Twelve. My search for the right therapist was broader than Jay Leno’s comedy – Did I want a
Okay, yeah, it’s me. And to answer your question, “Why am I writing a diary?” – because my therapist, Dr. Fishman, said it would be good for me, that’s why. And because maybe my words would help others as well (which is what my publicist said I should say, so I that I appear altruistic and enlightened). Also, because