A Scratch 'n Sniff Guide to Wine

Well, LAH-TEE-DAH

I finally went wine-tasting.

(As a rule, I don't like tasting things that aren't presented on a grease-slicked hot plate between aisles 4 and 5 by a woman wearing a button that reads, "You'll never go back to 'real' sausage!" But what can I say? I caved to social pressure.)

Anyway, it was not my usual hang-out. That is to say I felt a little out of my element. Like John Wayne at a lingerie shower.

For those of you who haven't gone tasting yet, here are a few "heads-up" items to keep in mind when planning your visit.

First of all, there is little to no RV parking, so get there early and bring your pylons to mark your turf!

Also, I sensed a definite lack of athletic spirit of any kind, so I'd recommend leaving your team jersey at home. Instead, ladies will want to pack an extra-large handbag festooned with as much gold-tone bric-a-brac as one can hoist, and gents will feel at home dressed somewhere between Captain Von Trapp and Thurston Howell III.

Also frowned upon: fist-pumping, pounding the bar to underscore one's appreciation of a particular selection, and exclaiming, "Gah, that's total crap!" to express the notion that you won't be buying a case of that one.

Oh, and classical music. It's everywhere. Nothing says why-yes-I-do-need-a-$125-set-of-pewter-cheese-knives-with-handles-shaped-like-the-Eiffel-Tower like the overture from Mozart's Marriage of Figaro.

Basically, going wine tasting is like being in a Grey Poupon commercial for eight straight hours. Not bad...just different.

Say What?

Most perplexing, however, was the language.

When one of the tasters remarked with great solemnity to another that the wine was, "Cloying...while still ponderous," I got excited, figuring I was witnessing a coded exchange between two foreign operatives.

Then I noticed that everyone was talking that way.

Here they were - the same folks I had observed out in the parking lot recapping the latest episode of "Jersey Shore" at the top of their lungs while adjusting the seats of their underpants - now swanning around, pinkies up like terriers' tails and describing their wines as "brawny", "austere" and "tight."

Huh?

How was anyone supposed to participate in this game? Clearly, some kind of fax was sent around beforehand.

Fear not, however, because I've compiled a little cheat sheet of my own personal wine-tasting terms that you can whip out when you find yourself surrounded by people dressed like the cast of "Dynasty" and complaining that the bottle they just opened is "volatile" and "angular."

The LJKGW Wine-Tasting Glossary

Theatrical - tastes like three-day-old popcorn with a delightful Junior Mint afternote.

Gummy - as in bear; as in makes little multicolored sugar-sweaters on your teeth.

Marsupial - leaves your mouth feeling like the inside of a kangaroo's pouch.

Woolly - demands immediate dry-cleaning.

Punitive - refers to the taster's residual uneasiness and belief that the wine is out to get him or her.

Loose - a wine that you suspect already has been tasted by everyone in the joint.

Pastoral - tastes like sheep.

Low-Maintenance - can be removed from your carpet with a damp sponge.

Repentant - makes you regret tasting it the minute it hits your tongue.

Aquatic - brings to mind the big fish tank at your dentist's office.

Shifty - of suspect origins; won't look you in the eye.

Alpine - tastes like those tree-shaped car fresheners smell.

Potato-ish - could use some ketchup or makes you feel like you have eyes all over your head.


In Other News...

I'm thrilled to announce that Ann Imig has invited me to produce the Los Angeles presentation of Listen To Your Mother - a spoken-word show she created this year in her town of Madison, Wisconsin and is now taking national for 2011. Directing the LA show will be my friend and most excellent writer/blogger Lisa Page Rosenberg. I'm so excited to work with these ladies!

And speaking of Listen To Your Mother, the LTYM Salon will happen this weekend at CA'10 in Ojai, California - just one of the cool, casual items on the CA'10 weekend agenda. This bite-sized preview of the full-scale show will feature nine writers reading essays about different aspects of motherhood. I look forward to reading a new piece called "The Babymaker."

SERIOUSbandzz

Not So Silly After All

Of course you know what Sillybandz are.

All right, in case you don't know them by name, they are those multi-colored, shaped silicone bands piled on the wrists of our nation's youth that you've probably noticed while bolting out the door of the 7-Eleven clutching a fresh copy of News of the World and four packs of Twizzlers. (That's right - I live in your neighborhood.)

Sillybandz (that's the "official" brand but there are other makers, too) are everywhere. They are sold in theme packs, such as:

Princess Pack!

Dora the Explorer Pack!

Hello Kitty Pack!

And even...Justin Bieber Pack!

Cute, right? But, wait...

I Reminisce

The Sillybandz craze reminds me of the "hot" thing to trade at school when I was but a pup growing up in the steamy 'burbs of Houston: Wacky Stickers. Do you remember those? They were tasteless stickers that parodied the popular products of the day, such as:

Cool, huh? I know.

But, anyway...

I Get Back On Track

Here's the thing: where are the Sillybandz that match my particular interests? Sure, Hello Kitty is cute and all, but I need stretchy silicone accessories that underscore and amplify the hip urban funky chic iconoclastic old vibe that is my signature style. I mean, people have certain expectations when I roll into the pharmacy carpool dog groomer ob/gyn oh, never mind!

Where are the SillyBandz for grown-ups?!?

Some Ideas

I've been thinking about this. (It was either think about this or do the dishes, and I'm pretty sure we all know which way that decision was going to cut.)

I think there's a huge marketing opportunity to be exploited here. Now, I don't have time to pursue this particular commercial niche what with my burgeoning Cat-Bump-Its business, but if any aspiring entrepreneurs out there would like to splash around in the puddles left over from my recent brainstorming session, well, go for it!

Middle-Aged Pack!

Includes reading glasses, insoles, calcium supplement, knee brace, elastic-waist pants, Metamucil and those giant sunglasses that fit over your regular glasses.

Menopause Pack!
(They change color along with your skin's temperature!)

Includes lightning bolt, tube of progesterone cream, prescription pad, sweat towel, moisturizer, bioidentical hormone pill and dagger.

Haggard Parent Pack!

Includes car seat, frying pan, lawn mower, briefcase, cell phone, sleeping bag, bicycle, microscope, ballet shoes, scout uniform, loose tooth and piggy bank.

Mid-Life Crisis Pack!
(In hot, day-glo colors!)

Includes convertible, barbell, tanning bed, Botox needle, buxom twenty-something, shirtless pool boy, sailboat, margarita and cloud of free-floating anxiety about one's mortality.

Career Pack!

Includes unreasonable boss, miniature paycheck, office lech, four coffee cups, know-it-all intern, empty doughnut box, irate customer and midnight oil.

Order Yours Today!

And...Coming Soon: SERIOUSbandzz Combo Packs!

Marriage/Divorce Pack!
Regret/Ennui Pack!
Independent/Assisted Living Pack!

Collect 'Em All!

An Interview With The Onion's Founding Editor...

...Mr. Scott Dikkers

It seems everything Scott Dikkers touches turns to something funny...and successful.

After all, this is the fellow who helped found The Onion back in 1988, then shepherded it from a college newspaper to an internationally acclaimed humor brand and, in the process, launched the world's first humor website.

Named by Rolling Stone as one of America's top-ten favorite writers, Scott is the author or co-author of numerous best-selling humor books, including, among others, The Onion's OUR DUMB CENTURY and OUR DUMB WORLD as well as YOU ARE WORTHLESS: DEPRESSING NUGGETS OF WISDOM SURE TO RUIN YOUR DAY. (A sample "nugget": "You're no good, you're not great-looking, and you're going to die someday and it's probably going to hurt.")

He is also the creator and artist of the comic strip Jim's Journal, one of the most popular Generation X-oriented strips in history. The strip, which appeared in 200 newspapers and a best-selling published collection, created humor by poking fun at other humor, a style that Scott called "anti-humor."

Scott has written and directed several films that include "Spaceman" and "Bad Meat" (starring Chevy Chase) as well as episodes of "The Onion News Network." He also has voiced numerous cartoons, including MTV's "Celebrity Deathmatch" and Saturday Night Live's "TV Funhouse."

(For a complete catalog of Scott Dikkers' work, please click here and here.)

Dikkers Cartoon Company

These days, Scott is at the helm of a new venture, but one that reflects a lifelong love: cartooning. He recently left his position at The Onion to found Dikkers Cartoon Company in Brooklyn, New York.


The company's website launched in May of this year and it's a humdinger, with gorgeous illustrations, streaming cartoons, games, even a gift shop.


And here's something you might not expect: all of the content at Dikkers Cartoon Company is rated for general audiences. That's right, Dikkers cartoons are appropriate - and funny! - for all ages.

This is one of my favorites, which you can watch by clicking here:


There's much more to experience over at the Dikkers Cartoons website and, remember, you can take your kids with you!


The Interview

Hearing from Scott Dikkers that he enjoys your humor blog is like having Ralph Lauren walk up to you and say, "Those are some sharp pants." It's a compliment you treasure, a day you remember. It's a gift for which I am truly grateful.

I also am very grateful to Scott for graciously agreeing to share some of his thoughts on comedy, his career and the nature of success. I hope you'll enjoy reading his responses as much as I enjoyed our interview.


Growing up, Scott, were you the kid who always had the class laughing, or the kid who wrote and drew funny things but kept them to himself?

Sort of both, I guess. I alternated between being the kid who was quiet, introspective and bullied, and the kid who had everybody laughing. But I think those two extremes are closely related. In 6th grade the other boys in the class locked me in the storage shed at recess. Could that even happen now? We had no supervision at recess when I was a kid. When the other kids found out I could draw, they stopped doing that sort of thing. Why, I don't know. My drawing skill had some value, apparently. So, I continued to use what limited power I had to entertain in order to boost my social capital, because it seemed to work. And since entertaining was just about the only skill-like attribute I had, I didn't stop with drawing. I became a pretty serious class cutup. Every day at school I was like Seinfeld developing new material. My comedy friends and I would try out jokes in class and assess the audience reaction later. I used to do impressions of teachers. Once, when a teacher was late in 9th grade I got up and wore glasses like him and started teaching the class as him, and this went on for like 10 minutes. Kids laughed but also paid attention and did what I asked, so I started asking them to do outrageous things. That was really fun.

You recently left your position as editor-in-chief of The Onion to found Dikkers Cartoon Company. How did you feel when the alarm clock went off that first morning of your new venture?

Well, it was good, but it's actually a feeling I'm fairly accustomed to. The Onion is and always has been a very small, privately held company. I owned it before I sold it to the current owners. So, it's not like I left an evil corporate job and went off to start my own bootstraps thing. That being said, I love making cartoons, and I love starting new things and I love the early stages of a new thing. I feel very much at home in that world and wake up pretty ecstatic in the morning. Getting up to go work at The Onion was the same way, though, usually. So, pretty much my whole adult life I've been waking up feeling extremely fortunate that I'm making a living doing what I love and doing my own thing.

Also, you must have had, what, 18,000 business cards left over after you switched jobs? What did you do with all of them?

I've probably given out a total of 3 business cards in my entire life. So, I always have stacks and stacks of boxes of those damned things in my desk drawer at any given time. At some point, somebody's going to figure out that I never use them and stop ordering so many boxes for me.

What do you think is the general public's biggest misconception about cartoons?

People think all cartoons now are made by computers. I tell people I'm making animated cartoons and they always say, "the computer can do all the inbetween drawings, right?" Yeah, that would look really good.

Some people may be surprised to learn that your cartoons - in addition to being funny - are surprisingly tender. Can you talk a little bit about this aspect of your work?

Thank you for saying so. Before The Onion got started, I made my living as a cartoonist. My daily comic strip ("Jim's Journal") had those same qualities. It seems to be the place I gravitate to when I'm drawing. Not sure what that's about. Also, over the years, I think The Onion, though it's main mission is to be funny, has had a lot of tenderness, too, believe it or not. As crass and outlandish as some of the humor is, I feel like there's always a respectful element to it at its core, that's essentially kind and pro-humanity. Most of the time.

We've all heard the adage that comedy = tragedy + time. Does your particular style of humor have its own formula?

No, that's pretty much the formula. Except in parody, I guess. And some types of character humor. Interesting story (or, if you're not in the comedy business, a boring story): At The Onion, we experimented with lowering the value of "time" in that equation, which is how you create comedy that's perceived as edgy & risky. We did this with our book, Our Dumb Century. We made jokes about the Titanic and Hindenburg disasters, about all the people who died, and nobody found those jokes offensive because these things happened so long ago. But then as we got closer to the present, we were doing the same types of jokes about the Space Shuttle Challenger and the Oklahoma City Federal Building, which was bombed just a couple of years before our book came out. It was then that we discovered the Grand Unification formula: comedy = tragedy. Adding time to the equation is just a way to make it easier to write the jokes -- the thing that makes the jokes "appropriate."

When 9-11 happened, not only were people saying you couldn't make jokes about it, certainly not right away -- and maybe not ever! -- they were actually saying maybe humor itself was dead. The Onion, having learned this lesson about how to reduce the "time" part of the equation to zero, was able to produce a full issue devoted to 9-11 just a couple of weeks after it happened. We'd learned that the best, most fulfilling humor is the kind that can make you laugh at even the worst of times. It's a coping mechanism. We want to laugh, to release tension, and when we can, it has the power to make us feel alive and human even in the midst of tragedy and death.

Of the many aspects of your creative career - drawing and voicing cartoons, writing, editing, directing - which has been the most surprising? In what way?

The most surprising was directing live-action movies. I thought I would love it. I thought it was what I was born to do. But it turns out that I really don't like it, and I don't believe I have the skill set that you would ideally have in order to be good at it. That was a real shocker to me. Animation is much more suited to my personality. The pace is slower, there's no getting up at 5 in the morning and going out to shoot in the snow. Post production is my favorite part of making a movie, and cartoons are all post production. It's like a dream.

Can you settle a bet, please? One of my interns is insisting that you attended professional truck-driving school, while I say you can't believe everything you read on the Internet. The truth?

Trucking school is in fact the only schooling I have ever received.

With which cartoon character (of all time) do you most closely identify? Why?

Charlie Brown. Because he wasn't insufferably cheerful, which every other cartoon character seems to be.

What is the worst piece of advice you've ever received? The best?

I wish I could remember the worst advice I've ever received, because it would probably be really funny. But since it was bad, and I didn't take it, it's long forgotten. But I'll try... There was a local reporter in Wisconsin who recommended I not buy into The Onion when I did (when it was a year old). He never thought it would go anywhere. My dad suggested I pay for college by joining the Army. That was bad advice. Nothing against the Army, but I'm not the type.

The best advice I've ever received was from the cartoonist John Kovalic, who was a successful cartoonist who had just gone into syndication right before I published my first comic strip, and before The Onion was around. He tossed off this advice, and probably has no idea how much of an impact it's had on my life. But he was extolling the virtues of deadlines, how creating fixed deadlines for yourself was important for creative people to actually get things done and develop their skills. Without deadlines, you're liable to be tinkering with the same project for months before you show it to anyone. And you'll never grow. After that, so many of the entertainment avenues I forged for myself had deadlines built in, so that I was assured of actually producing work on a regular basis and getting better every day -- a daily comic strip, a weekly newspaper, etc. Great advice!

You've enjoyed tremendous success in your creative endeavors. What's your definition of success in the broader sense of life?

Kind of you to say. I still feel like I have a long way to go, but that's my own demon. What is success? I have no idea. I think about that question a lot, though. I think it's like a white whale. We're never totally satisfied with the level of success we have. Are we? I suppose the simplest way to think of it for me is you're successful if you're loved at home and engaged at work. And you own a swimming pool filled with thousand dollar bills.

As anyone who's tried it knows, being funny is serious business. What do you do for fun when you're not crafting humor?

How good of you to point out that writing comedy is not fun! Everyone who doesn't do it for a living thinks it is. But of course it's not. I go rock climbing. I used to go to water parks, but they don't have those in New York, so that's a bummer. I think they should build one at ground zero.

Are you currently engaged in any blood feuds, the details of which you'd like to get off your chest?

Yes, I am in a blood feud with Verizon. I keep threatening to disconnect my land line, and they keep giving me terrible customer service. They seem to be trying very hard to lose my business. But I'm addicted to the sweet clarity of my land line.

What's the best thing regular old consumers can do to encourage the popularity of general audience animated cartoons like the ones you're making?

Just watch and enjoy and share! Especially with the kids.

Anything you'd like to add?

No, ma'am. Thanks for the delightful interview, Anna! Keep up the great work.

Thank you, Scott.
And we wish
you and Dikkers Cartoon Company
every kind of success!

Mini-Post: Our Contest Winner!

Congratulations to...

Lisa Golden! She's the winner of our photo caption contest, as selected by Jon Bon Jovi (not my husband's real name).

Huzzah!

Here's the contest photo again, with Lisa's winning caption below it:

The green toothbrush only LOOKS innocent.

Lisa has shrewdly selected the Star Trek Enterprise Bottle Opener as her victor's spoils. Enjoy!

And thank you to everyone who entered our little contest! All of the captions were terrific and, let me tell you, you really put Jon Bon Jovi through his paces in the judging process.

Thanks again and have a bold rest of the weekend, all!

Surprise Contest!

Crap, I Ruined the Surprise!

I'm not sure exactly what went down in Gomez's bathroom last night while we all slept, but I know a hostage situation when I see one.


Perhaps you can explain what went horribly wrong, say, midnight-ish between the electric toothbrush and the Nintendo DS charger.

In fact - the person who comes up with
the best caption for this photo
will win his or her choice of the following:

A brand new Star Trek Enterprise Bottle Opener

OR

A brand new set of Remote-Controlled Hopping Yodeling LederhosenOR

Combo Pack! Viking Helmet + Handerpants

(Yes, they're both brand new, too. It will be a cold day indeed when the proprietress of this blog goes into the used Handerpants business.)

Those are some prizes, huh? Talk about Sophie's choice!

Los Rules

• Post your gut-busting photo caption in the comments section before midnight of Friday, Sept. 17.
• Once all the comments are in, I will read them aloud to Jon Bon Jovi (not my husband's real name) without attribution. He will select the winner. If he's wrong, I will overrule his selection. (You married folks will be familiar with this dynamic.)
• I will then contact the winner and obtain a shipping address as well as a preference of prize loot.
• The winner and his/her bitchin' caption will be announced in an upcoming post.
  
• We will all live happily ever after.

Now - take a good, long look at that photo and let 'er rip! I can't wait to read your captions!


Have You Heard About...

Creative Alliance '10?

Also known as CA'10, this conference retreat happens next month (October 15-17) in gorgeous Ojai, California.


The inaugural CA ’10 was created with one mission in mind – to establish authentic, lasting alliances with like-minded women who are pursuing their creative business interests in the online space. The weekend promises to be fun, relaxing and - with attendance capped at 40 people - intimate. Please click here to find out more.


And - just announced! - another aspect of CA'10 that gives attendees a chance to showcase their writing chops. Click here to get the details.

I and the other members of the CA'10 core team hope to see you in Ojai in October. There are still tickets remaining, but they're going fast!

Anxieties on Parade

Look, They're Doing High-Kicks

I've never been what you'd call an anxious person.

No, for 99% of my life, I've stomped through my days like a lumberjack, crossing tasks off my to-do list with one hand while rooting around in a bag of Chili 'N Cheese Fritos with the other.

At the end of a typical day spent blissfully ignoring 1) my mounting credit-card debt, 2) the unzipping ozone layer and, 3) the Situation in the Middle East, I would snap into my footie pajamas, collapse into bed and saw logs like Hoss Cartwright until it was time to start it all over again the next morning.

At least, that's how it used to be.

I Miss Those Days (Dammit)

What is it they say about hindsight? About not appreciating how good we had it when we were in the process of having it? Something annoying, no doubt. Annoying but accurate (= even more annoying).

[Oh, great. I just flash-forwarded to a time in the not-too-distant future, I'm sure, when I'll look back on this moment and think, "Wasn't it great when all I worried about was how I was starting to develop annoying anxieties that disturbed my sleep patterns? Those were the good old days, boy. Yup, that was a Caribbean cruise compared to today with, you know, the chronic explosive diarrhea and that weird buzzing mole on my clavicle. *sigh*]

Anyway.

Yes, that's the situation: I am developing free-floating anxieties that are part Ninja, part door-to-door salesman. They lurk, nay, they lie in wait, timing their approach for the moment when I am most vulnerable.

Their arrival makes me feel like someone who has answered the door while running a bath upstairs. "You got me!" I want to say, shifting from foot to foot. "For the love of God, what must I buy to get you off my porch?!"

The anxieties slip into my room before dawn in their sparkle-appliqued caftans and elastic-waist pants, Lee Press-On nails clacking. (I've never gotten a clear glimpse, but that's how I picture them.) They begin their flat-footed polka around my bed like those dancing hippos from "Fantasia" and, no matter how hard I resist (telling myself I'm still dreaming that I'm a back-up cage-dancer for Sammy Davis, Jr.), the anxieties still get me.

And there I am: awake in the dark, my wide eyes glued to the ceiling and my mind grinding on a seemingly insurmountable problem, such as:

• When I take the kids to the orthodontist, should I park at a meter on the street or in the parking structure?
• Is it time to give in and start wearing reading glasses on a chain around my neck?
• Did I accidentally spend all of our money? And, if so, on what? (Corollary: did I keep the receipt?)
• Was the "pashmina" I just bought actually woven from Paris Hilton's castoff hair extensions? *

(*I'm not making these up, friends.)

Of course, once morning comes and I'm lying face-up under the coffee-maker spout, those little problems that plagued me in the dark of night seem like piffle. Silliness. No big whup. Why, then, do I fester from 3-5 AM that I will not be able to find Morticia and Gomez if they go over to the grocery store's frozen aisle to fetch a box of Hot Pockets? For God's sakes, I hardly ever misplace the children!

Apparently, this is how I am now.

But Why?

What happened to the rock-solid, keep-on-truckin' Anna of yore (or at least six months ago)? Who or what took a can opener to my suit of emotional armor? Was it I who neglected to button up the seat of my mental long johns? I'm feeling a draft and I don't like it one bit.

Seriously, what gives?

Some Theories

#1: It's A Natural Part of Getting Older

Let me get this straight: no matter how much we eat right, exercise regularly, give generously to public television and scoop our dogs' doodie with earth-friendly bags we will, in return, start twitching through the night like a popcorn kernel on a hibachi the minute we sprout our first gray hair? Are you friggin' kidding me?

If this is how the system works, then - at the rate I'm going - I'll be flapping around town in a chicken suit long before I qualify to order off the back page of the Denny's menu.

#2: It's Only Temporary

This sounds reassuring...on the surface. But look a little deeper into the notion of "temporary" and I think you'll agree it holds precious little comfort, especially where sleep-deprivation is involved.

For instance, anyone possessing even a passing familiarity with cosmology will tell you that our universe is constantly expanding - an expansion that will ultimately lead to its destruction a few million years down the road. Which is to say that our universe is (say it with me) temporary.

I don't know about you, but I just can't go that long without a decent night's sleep.

#3: I've Been Hexed

It's quite possible that someone out there somewhere has fashioned a mustachioed sock monkey with troublesome in-between bangs and a generous smattering of sun damage across the cleavage. Hey, it happens.

Fortunately, I'm close to perfecting my Reverse-Hex-O-Matic, which I've fashioned in my garage from a set of Buick hub caps, nine extra-long pipe cleaners, 47 pounds of baking soda and 3.6 yards of scrap hot-pink craft felt (along with a few other secret ingredients best left unlisted).

So, you know, at least I've got this option covered.

#4: I'm Losing My Mind

BINGO.

Now we're getting somewhere.

Now, THAT Show, I'd Watch

Less Dancing, More Plumbing

As I idled at a red light yesterday (something I rarely have time for during the week but enjoy doing to relax on the weekends), I happened to look up from my crocheting and notice a billboard.

"So You Think You Can Dance?" it read, as beneath the towering title an impressive squadron of moist, chiseled youth mamboed, watusied and breakdanced by.

Hmmm.

Did I think I could dance?

I reviewed my lifetime of dance experience - the hours spent perfecting my early moves in my room ("Le Freak! C'est chic!"), the time spent grinding my taffeta-clad hindquarters across various school gym and cafeteria floors ("Let's get physical, physical..."), college halls ("Chaka Khan! ChakaKhanChakaKhan!") and, later, the sticky poured concrete of some of Los Angeles' least exclusive night clubs ("Whoomp! There it is!").

Where had it all gotten me?

Did I measure up?

Did I care?

No, I concluded. I did not.

As the light continued to burn red and I put the finishing touches on the cowl-neck minidress I was fashioning for our cockapoo, I pondered the fact that life for me had changed at some point along the way.

Sure, I could remember a time when I went dancing often enough that it mattered to me to be at least halfway decent at it. Honestly, though, those memories seemed just as scratched and dusty as my recollection of the time in middle school when Tim Herron nailed me square in the face during a game of dodge ball out on the covered blacktop. (Fartknocker.)

Yes, life had changed. Many of the interests of past years had been crowded out by new, more pressing concerns. The transition had been gradual, but in the end the shift was significant.

Bottom line: I could not relate to this show.

The concept, however, still had potential.

Turns Out That...

...with just a few tweaks, the "So You Think You Can..." concept can easily be customized to address the goals and interests of a regular schmo like, well, me.

Here, then, are just a few of the ideas for spin-off shows that I jotted down in the Hello Kitty notebook I always keep in my car for just such occasions. (I would have cranked my window down and pitched the ideas directly to the producer getting a shiatsu massage in the back of the Town Car next to me at the light, but 1. all my primo air-conditioning would have escaped, and 2. I was afraid the fact that my Gremlin needed a wash would put me at a disadvantage, negotiations-wise.)

For your consideration:

Spin-Off Show Concepts
Target Audience: Moi

So You Think You Can...
Grocery Shop Without a List?

So You Think You Can...
Apply Liquid Eyeliner?

So You Think You Can...
Synch Up Your Blackberry?

So You Think You Can...
Wear Those Jeans?

So You Think You Can...
Get the Tub to Drain Faster?

So You Think You Can...
Switch to Decaf?

So You Think You Can...
Understand Escrow?

So You Think You Can...
Finish Vacuuming Before Your Guests Arrive?

So You Think You Can...
Finally Return Those Movies?

So You Think You Can...
Get Your Security Deposit Back?

So You Think You Can...
Make it to the Gym This Week?

So You Think You Can...
Trim Your Own Bangs?

So You Think You Can...
Get a Decent Night's Sleep?

So You Think You Can...
Remember to Close the Garage Door?

So You Think You Can...
Get Your Hip to Stop Making That "Click" Noise?

An Apology

I'd like to apologize to BlogHer - both the organizers and the attendees - for being unable to make the trip to New York earlier this month to speak on the BlogHer '10 humor-writing panel. As many of you know, my mother recently was hospitalized and, as a result, it was impossible for me to travel to NYC. Many thanks to the conference organizers for their gracious understanding of my dilemma and to everyone who has sent emails and tweets of support. My mom is doing better and I will always be honored to have been invited to speak.
Thank You!

Big thanks to Laugh Out Loud for featuring my "Iron Ma'am" piece! LOL is a very fun (and funny) site that's looking to harvest the blogosphere's humor highlights. Check it out!

Click for a Cure

I've previously shared my friend Kevin's family quest to find a cure for Juvenile Myositis - the disease that threatens the life of his young daughter. The CureJM cause is SO CLOSE to gathering enough votes to secure a $250,000 research grant from Pepsi that each and every vote makes a real difference. If they can move up literally one spot to #2, they'll get the funding. There's no charge or commitment to show your support and - truly - each vote counts. You can vote here every day 'till September 1. Thanks so much for your help.