I just have to thank May in the Bay for being jealous of my life. It’s ironic that a childless young thang in a fabulous city should covet my life as a dysfunctional writer, whose hobbies include grocery shopping and gum-chewing. Right now my daughter is home with diarreah and instead of working on my novel I’m sitting here watching Clifford the Big Red Dog and wondering if everything on Clifford is big. Jealous?

But thank you, thank you for being covetous and thinking I’m hot, when the truth is that I have breasts identical to those of Ted Kennedy’s.