All That Means Is That It Wasn't

Food Is One Of My Favourite Things. Though I Certainly Know Lots Of People Who Happen To Be Happily Married Who Don't Have Food Play The Role In It That It Plays In My Life. And I Don't Know How They Do It, And Frankly I Feel So Bad For Them Because I Just Love Food And One Of My Favourite Things Is Asking, "what Do We Want For Dinner? What Do We Feel Like Eating?" That Wonderful Negotiation That Goes On Several Times A Week About What "we" Feel Like.

So, Twice A Week, I Go To A Beauty Salon And Have My Hair Blown Dry. It’s Cheaper By Far Than Psychoanalysis, And Much More Uplifting.

Working As A Journalist Is Exactly Like Being The Wallflower At An Orgy. I Always Seem To Find Myself At A Perfectly Wonderful Event Where Everyone Else Is Having A Marvelous Time, Laughing Merrily, Eating, Drinking, Having Sex In The Back Room, And I Am Standing On The Side Taking Notes On It All.

I've Just Surfaced From Spending Several Days In A State Of Rapture: I Was Reading A Book... I Felt Alive And Engaged And Positively Brilliant, Bursting With Ideas, Brimming With Memories Of Other Books I've Loved.

One Of The Things People Always Say To You If You Get Upset Is, Don't Take It Personally, But Listen Hard To What's Going On And, Please, I Beg You, Take It Personally. Understand: Every Attack On Hillary Clinton For Not Knowing Her Place Is An Attack On You. Underneath Almost All Those Attacks Are The Words: Get Back, Get Back To Where You Once Belonged.