I’d love to hear from you if you enjoy my blog—not so much if you don’t. I’m kidding! (Sort of.) I’m also an author, speaker and syndicated humor columnist. My work appears in publications in eleven states.
You can see the list on the “Editor’s page.” If your local newspaper doesn’t run my column and you think (as I do) that it should, pass my name on to them.
I’d like you to meet my driver. Oops. Did I say my driver? I meant, I’d like you meet my husband. It’s an easy mistake; if we’re going anywhere, he’s almost always driving. And he’s very good at it. At least I think he is. I’m usually asleep when he’s driving, so I could be wrong.
Look at that. An acquaintance has just posted a dozen photos of her Hawaiian honeymoon on Facebook. Beautiful! Hey wait. She’s on what should be the best vacation of her life with the person she presumably loves more than anyone in the world, and she’s staring at her phone. I have half a mind to comment . . .
I’m at the movie The Intern, when someone’s cellphone breaks into song up front. It’s a catchy, little instrumental and I’d probably feel like dancing if I weren’t holding a bucket of popcorn the size of Seattle and trying so hard to hear what Anne Hathaway is telling Robert De Niro. When the cellphone’s owner finally answers it, he tells the caller—and everyone else in the theatre—that he’s in the middle of a movie, something those of us in the audience are well aware of.