My Fellow Female Americans

I have always believed that identity politics is bad for a democracy. In an ideal representative republic, constituents should select leaders based on character and ideology, not pigment and genitalia.

Consequently, I was one annoyed female during the Democratic Primaries, when the women and men around me assumed I would strap on a pantsuit and march behind Hillary merely because we both have-- as Oprah painfully says-- Va-Jay-Jay's.

For this reason, I did not view John McCain's choice of Sarah Palin as his running mate in cynical terms. Women who supported Senator Clinton for president will not automatically support Gov. Palin for vice-president merely because she's "one of us."

Some will. Some won't.

Some women will even go out of their way to stop Palin's political career dead in its moose tracks.

But even women who don't like Gov. Palin should demand that she be treated equally. As women, we should be united in our outrage at the sexist treatment she is receiving at the hands of various pundits and editorialists, just as we were outraged when it happened to Senator Clinton.

When Fox News analyst Juan Williams calls it "affirmative action" and former Presidential candidate John Kerry defines McCain's decision to team up with the Alaska Governor as "erratic" you have to assume their opinions go way beyond good old-fashioned political rhetoric.

When Sam Donaldson sputters and chuckles at the very idea that Sarah Palin is ready to assume the duties of President (should McCain pass away) even as Cokie Roberts reminds him that most governors don't have foreign policy experience, you have to wonder if he's just afraid of a chick being in charge.

When George Stephanopoulos-- the man who convinced Americans that a two-term governor from Arkansas was experienced enough to be leader of the free world-- repeats and repeats and repeats this idea that Palin has no foreign policy experience and therefore is unqualified (Do I have to repeat that Bill Clinton was in charge of Arkansas?) then something is seriously amiss.

When you hear the phrases "I'm sure she's a nice lady...", "This former beauty queen..." and "She seems bright..." tossed around in a casual manner, you have to believe Palin's critics are not judging her on ideas or past accomplishments, but they are also consciously-- or more frighteningly, subconsciously-- using degrading language to send the message that a woman should not be taken seriously.

The fact that some of the critics using these very tactics are other women makes me ill.

I would not expect black Republicans (yes they do exist) to be silent if Barack Obama was a victim of blatant racism and I dearly hope that woman will not let their party affiliation stand in the way of what's right. You don't have to vote for McCain/Palin, but that doesn't mean you can't hold the misogynists up to ridicule.

When they say a woman can't juggle motherhood and politics, stand up for her. When they suggest that her Down syndrome baby is the result of her working too hard, stand up for her. When they say she won't be able to stand up to Putin, stand up for her.

Make them judge Palin by what she stands for, not the by the high heels she stands in.

Media Misogyny Watch

From the LA Times:

Though John McCain clearly concluded that Palin could attract female voters and grab his campaign some Barack Obama-style media buzz, he also is taking a risk that in elevating a largely unknown figure, he undermines the central theme of his candidacy that he puts "country first," above political calculations.

Oh, so picking a female Governor means he's not putting country first?

(Historically speaking, Americans like Governors in the White House. Having two Senators on the ticket is the real risk.)

Then there is this about Joe Biden:

McCain's choice of Palin strikes a contrast with Obama's running-mate selection of Joe Biden, a longtime U.S. senator whose foreign policy credentials and working-class roots seemed to fill important gaps in Obama's resume and political style.

You mean gaps Hillary couldn't fill?

According to the media, choosing a woman as a running mate is a risky and desperate move. It's a "long shot" or a "roll of the dice."

Wake up ladies, the media doesn't like us. They didn't like Hillary Clinton and they don't like Sarah Palin.

First they tell us a black male President is what this country needs. Now they are telling us a female Vice-President would be a huge mistake.

And if you think it's Palin's ideology that causing such ire, then how do you explain Hillary Clinton being thrown under the bus by the press and her party?

Impalin' Palin.

Obviously, the "MS" in MSNBC doesn't stand for Ms. I'm stunned by the sexist coverage I have just witnessed during the past 30 minutes.

Can anybody bring Tim Russert back from the dead?

Vice-President Sarah Palin?

Ooooooooooh, I bet Obama wishes he had picked Hillary.

First, David Duchovny checks himself into rehab for sexual addiction and now John McCain chooses a woman as his running mate. My head, she spins.

That's Some Good Pie, Aunt Bea!

I baked a peach pie last night, but since Bill Clinton was speaking at the DNC, I suppose I should call it an imPEACHed pie.

It was a bag of rotting peaches that led me on this baked good quest. I did the same thing last Saturday when I turned five brownish bananas into a delectable banana bread. My inability to toss out fruit past its prime is going to cause me to gain fifteen pounds. I better start eating the blueberries before I make pancakes or danish. At the very least, I should believe the hype and buy some Debbie Myer's Green Bags. They must be good. Anything "Seen on TV" is good, right?

Normally, I'm a darn fine little baker, but I must have been distracted by the crushing weight of being one year closer to my death, because I managed to somehow screw up every step in the process....the dough was sticky, I spilled sugar over half the kitchen, I forgot to start the timer.

Surprisingly, it wasn't a disaster. Yet, as my husband and I were each shoving a second piece down our gullets, we agreed we would never serve it to guests.

I suppose a normal person would have baked a birthday cake, but I've never been on the birthday cake bandwagon. Even as a kid, I would request strawberry shortcake or pineapple upside down cake or Jewish apple cake (although I don't remember calling it Jewish apple cake... the Nazi bastards in my neighborhood probably called it German apple cake or "Let's Hang The Jews Upside Down" apple cake) instead of a chocolate cake with sickeningly sweet icing.

I suppose I've always thought fruit should be surrounded by butter, sugar and flower.

Perhaps in honor of Barak Obama's speech this evening, I'll make an Apple Brown Betty. Oh yeah, I went there!

Today Is My Birthday

So far, I have received two birthday cards: one from my father and one from Southwest Airlines.

My dad's card was very sweet and it contained money. I can't tell you how much of a thrill it is to still get a birthday card with cash inside. (I call them Daddy Dollars.)

The Southwest card had no such monetary gift (although they could have included a drink coupon) but it is kinda funny.





Delta never sent me a card. USAir never sent me a card. I doubt anything will show up in my P.O. Box from American or United either.

Thank you Southwest. Thank you dad. And I will thank my brother's cats in advance because they never forget my big day.

For the record, I'm 43. Yikes!

Rejected Us Weekly Fashion Police Jokes 15

I have been a Top Cop for Us Weekly's Fashion Police since 2001. (Why do men always call it "U.S." Weekly even when they see it spelled with a big "U" and a small "s"?)

Some weeks many of my jokes are published while other weeks I have to settle for just one or two. Below is a partial list of comments that never made it to the newsstand.

Note: The ones marked "Accepted" are my comments that got in. The ones marked "Rejected" are the ones that didn't.



Rachael Bilson

Accepted: From O.C. to "Oh, boy!"

Rejected: When cruising, never shop at each port.

Sophie Monk

Rejected: In training for the Laundry Olympics.

Rejected: "Party in the dorm room--stat!"

Fergie

Rejected: Purchased at a head shop in ancient Greece.

Rejected: Fergalaughable.

The Wrong Trousers

I'm always thrilled when geeks get together to make good music. There's just something about a kid who regularly gets his ass kicked hooking up with other kids who get their asses kicked to produce stuff that kicks ass.

Last night, our nephew and his girlfriend told us about a band called The Wrong Trousers whose street performance version of "Video Killed The Radio Star" became a minor internet sensation.

At first, I laughed heartily at the three gawky teens banging out the Buggles' classic on a harp, stand-up bass and mandolin. Being a huge Wallace & Gromit fan, I also appreciated their moniker. (Not a week goes by when I don't utter the words, "Cheese, Gromit.")

But, it's their more recent videos that actually made me a fan. In a short time, they have become quite polished, performing songs that are surprisingly sophisticated for such young kids. Now they are like a bigenderal They Might Be Giants who, on one of the songs, have quirky harmonies that are somewhat reminiscent of X.

I'll have to keep an eye on these kids.

Here's the video that started it all.



Now here they are performing three songs on a local television show called "Java Jams."

Madonna: The Exhibition

If Madonna's Sticky & Sweet Tour is a failure...



... she could always join Bodies The Exhibition.

All Hail The Hunky Hawaiian!

Gold Medal decathlete Brian Clay just wants to be on the cover of a Wheaties box. Sadly, I think he'll lose out to either Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson or Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh. It probably would have been Michael Phelps but he's committed to Frosted Flakes. (I hear Tony the Tiger has a cross-species crush on the champion swimmer.)

In the old days, an American winning the gold would have been cause for celebration and bragging rights. Back then, the winner of the decathlon was considered the world's greatest athlete.

But NBC didn't even feel the need to air 8 of the 10 events in primetime.

I blame Bruce Jenner for America's sudden disinterest in the decathlon. For a quarter of a century we have watched the former Olympic champion change from a handsome, macho super-man to a beaten-down Kardashian step-father with bad plastic surgery.

In order to get respect, perhaps Brian Clay should get a sex-change operation and learn beach volleyball.

Go Phils!

Yesterday afternoon, I made the mistake of asking my husband what he was planning on wearing to the Phillies game. He said, "Something sexy. I'm hoping Cole Hamels will see me in the stands and ask me to marry him." That was his way of telling me he hadn't given it any thought.

We decided to make the trip to Citizens Bank Park after realizing our five-dollar-off coupon from a package of Phillies Franks could only be used on certain dates. As we approached the stadium, we were surprised to hear a klezmer band playing near the entrance. Turns out, it was "Jewish Heritage Night" which was slightly ironic since we were using a discount found on the back of a pork hot dog package.

A cantor sang the National Anthem, the Phillie Phanatic and Mrs. Phanatic did the chair dance and fans held signs that said, "Jew Gotta Believe!" The first batter for the Washington Nationals was named Zimmerman. We wondered if that was on purpose. Personally, I think they should have changed all of the player's names to sound more Jewish. Perhaps Chase Utley could have been Chase Putzley? My idea may not be culturally sensitive but neither is a guy in a green fuzzy suit thrusting his hips at the men in traditional garb who were trying to balance bottles on their hats.

One fearless-- or should I say, stupid-- fan wore a New York Mets yarmulke. He might as well have worn a sign on his head that said, "Hit me here."

Speaking of stupidity, Shortstop Jimmy Rollins made the gigantic mistake of publicly insulting the Philadelphia fans by saying in an interview, “They’re front-runners. When you’re doing good, they’re on your side. When you’re doing bad, they’re completely against you. For example, Ryan (Howard) is from St. Louis. St. Louis, it seems like they support their team. They’re encouraging.”

Oy, the booing!

As I was watching the game, I couldn't help but think of all the pundits who say that we are in the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression. Seriously? Over 41,000 people showed up on a Thursday night to watch the Phillies play the worst team in baseball. We personally spent $60 on the cheapest seats possible, public transportation, two beers and a bucket of fries while others around us were groaning under the weight of food and merchandise. Many of the people in our section weren't even interested in the game. The girl behind me actually said, "I don't even like baseball, I just like to be outside." How can we all be one paycheck away from homelessness if Americans are paying a small fortune just to be outside?

Oh well, the Phils lost 4-3. So much for playing the worst team in baseball.

Lying In The Sun

Yesterday, I had what Holly Golightly would call the mean reds. I had gone to bed feeling blue, woke up navy and by mid-morning worried that life would never be good again.

Had I been a cat, I would have hidden under the bed.

By late afternoon, I feared that my bad day would turn into a bad week or a bad month or a bad year, so I said to my husband, "Get me outside. I don't care what we do. Just get me outside!"

Twenty minutes later, we were in the park, lying on blankets, watching the planes make their descent into Philly International.

The weather was perfect. The dragonflies were playful. Hubby snoozed while I read a book. Suddenly life was good again.

I finished the day with a Manhattan and a bacon, lettuce and avocado sandwich. (Okay, actually I finished the day with 1 1/2 Manhattans and two bacon, lettuce and avocado sandwiches.)

Often it's the simple things that make life seem less complicated.

I've Been Animated

Bill Libbey from IAnimateYou.com sent me an email the other day telling me that I had been animated.

It seems he's starting up a new business and he had the smarts to choose bloggers as his first victims.. er, subjects.

The first sample showed me winking, which cracked me up because I despise winkers. In fact, I loved Paul Newman until I saw him wink at David Letterman. After that I couldn't even eat Newman's salad dressing.

My husband thinks I look cute as a button in the new version. To be honest, I'm a bit freaked out by my moving headshot. But, I'm just glad Mr. Libbey keeps his animation family friendly. I can't imagine what others might do with the same software.

When Art Direction Goes Bad

Poor Michael Phelps. Just days after winning a record-setting eight Olympics gold medals, he appears on the cover of Sports Illustrated wearing a spangly halter top.

Of course, in reality those are his medals. But the bad art direction makes it look like he visited the wardrobe department at Sabado Gigante.

And if you are going to appear topless, isn't it necessary to show the pants? For all we know, he's completely naked.

Now he's the nude Olympic Champion with a penchant for girls' shirts.

Suddenly Mark Spitz's patriotic Speedo and gold chains seem like pure genius. (See below.)

Guest Blogging 5

Yet another one of my fake news articles (Restroom Hand Dryers Contribute To Global Warming) has been posted over at bizlevity.com.

Bobbing For Compliments

As much as I'm disgusted with NBC's coverage of the Summer Olympics, I have to admit I'm enjoying the snarky, diminutive Bob Costas.

I like Costas. He's a ball-buster. He's the kind of guy who would have been my best friend in junior high... and if he had been gay, we would have been friends forever.

I once had a very strange dream about Bob Costas. In the dream, he left a note for me at a hotel front desk, asking me to meet him on the roof for a romantic dinner. But when I got there, it wasn't Bob Costas... it was Bob Uecker. I actually screamed.

Guest Blogging 4

Another one of my fake news articles (New Yorker Cartoonist to Paint Presidential Portrait) has been posted over at Bizlevity.com.

He Shoots! He Scores Gold!

Vincent Hancock, the cousin of my good friend and fellow comic Joe Starr, won the gold medal in Men's Skeet Shooting in Beijing.

I was able to watch the competition and medal ceremony on NBCOlympics.com.
The odds of his winning performance actually making it onto the NBC Primetime coverage is about as likely as Mark Spitz hopping into the pool and winning another seven gold medals.

Hancock is only 19 years old which means he could compete in another five Olympics!

Beach, Blanket Coverage, Bingo!

Could this be the real reason NBC has a network crush on beach volleyball gold-medal favorites Kerri Walsh and Misty May-Treanor?



I know these two have quite the winning streak going, but the dominance of their sport still doesn't justify the amount of primetime coverage they are receiving. What about all the other athletes who have already won gold medals? Where is their face time?

Either Walsh and May-Treanor have already signed a deal with NBC or the image of a little girl-on-girl action from the last Olympics is enough to keep the director in the booth yelling, "Cut to beach volleyball!"

Nothing else makes sense.

Guest Blogging 3

My third fake news story (McCain Uses Paris Hilton In New Obama Ad) has been posted over at bizlevity.com.

Synchronized Snoozing

Why is NBC obsessed with synchronized diving? Each competition is the same: the Chinese win the gold, the Americans place fourth and then two sets of divers, who don't seem to do well at all, win silver and bronze.

I'm a fan of regular diving-- I gasped along with the rest of America when Greg Louganis smashed oped his head on the platform-- but synchronized diving just seems like something two drunk divers cooked up when they were hanging out at the pool after midnight. "Dude, seriously, let's both jump off the high dive and see if we can land at the same time without making a splash. It'll be awesome!"

What's next? Synchronized weight lifting? At least that would be worth hearing the commentator say, "Oh my, those are two fantastic snatches! (See InnuendOlympics for clarification.)

Thank goodness Michael Phelps isn't competing in synchronized swimming... no one could keep up with him.

As the human dolphin is poised to break Mark Spitz's record of seven gold medals in one Olympics, I think it's a disgrace that the former champion wasn't invited to witness the event. Even Roger Maris' cranky family was in the stands when steroid-fueled Mark McGwire broke daddy's record.

My sister was a big fan of Mark Spitz during the 1972 Munich Games and for years afterwards, his famous poster hung on her wall. (Or some would say "well-hung" on her wall.)

Before she took it down, we got out the magic markers and covered it with funny little sayings. I can't remember all that we wrote but I do remember pointing an arrow at his crotch and writing, "New World Record."

Not-So-Golden Girls

As I watched the elfin American girls lose the gymnastic team gold medal to the pre-pubescent Chinese, I couldn't help but think of all the seven-year-old little Olympic wannabes who would be devastated by the loss.

I was seven during the 1972 Munich Games when America's greatest hope of gymnastic glory rested firmly on the petite shoulders of future Peter Pan, Cathy Rigby. But as much as I wanted to root for our country's plucky sweetheart, my loyalty, I'm afraid, was with a flexible Soviet named Olga Korbut.

I didn't just love Olga Korbut, I looooooooooooved Olga Korbut. In my short seven years on the planet, I had never seen anyone do what she could do. I used to try to memorize her routines so I could play them over and over again in my larger-than-normal-size head before I went to sleep. In retrospect, her moves were so easy that these days a seven-year-old could do them as a warm-up for much tougher moves.

My father took the opportunity of my Soviet obsession to give me a lesson on communism. I was flabbergasted. To think that my Soviet hero didn't have the freedom to go where she wanted or do what she wanted actually made me weep. I desperately wanted her to win gold just so her family would have a better life.

In the months following the Olympics, my parents took me to the Spectrum in Philadelphia to see the Soviet phenoms during an exibition tour. They bought me an Olga Korbut T-shirt and encouraged me to stand with the other little pony-tailed girls in the hopes of getting an autograph. I watched the guards closely and wondered whether my Olga secretly wanted to defect.

But the closer I got to my crush, the more I realized she was a bitch of epic proportions. My sympathy for her plight evaporated immediately. The Commies could have her. (The last time I heard about Olga Korbut, she was living in Atlanta and had been popped for shoplifting.)

Yet as I watched the Chinese toddlers receive their gold medals, I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. Most of these girls had been taken away from their families when they were three. The pressure they must have felt is unimaginable. Prior to the meet, the Chinese Head Coach said that if his gymnasts didn't win gold, he would throw himself off the highest building in Beijing. I believed him!

So, while the American girls may have been disappointed in their defeat, they will still go on to make their own choices in life, travel freely and, most importantly, have as many children as they want.

In the end, they are the real winners.

Or they could all wind up like Olga Korbut, living in Georgia with a rap-sheet the size of a balance beam.

Here's Olga Korbut doing one of her gold-medal winning routines. It's hard to believe that 36 years ago her moves were controversial and considered too dangerous for the sport.

Guest Blogging Continued

My second fake news article (Angelina Jolie Pregnant With Third-World Country) has been posted over at Bizlevity.com.

Bad-Ass Badminton

Thanks to the live coverage on NBCOlympics.com, I am now a huge fan of men's badminton.

To say that the sloth-like version we played at picnics in any way qualifies us to participate at the international level is like saying we could compete in synchronized swimming because as children we took baths with our siblings.

These badminton competitors are fast and furious. If Americans were exposed to more badminton, they would probably never watch tennis again. (Perhaps it's a conspiracy by the United States Tennis Association-- or Big Racket as I like to call them-- to keep badminton off the air?)

Here's a You Tube clip called "Badminton Top 10 Rallies."

I'm A Guest Blogger

I'll be guest blogging this week over at Bizlevity.com while Big Cheese, Mark Jabo takes his new bride on a fabulous honeymoon.

My first piece appeared on Monday (Democrats Approve Drilling...Into Bush's Skull) and several more will be posted in upcoming days.

The InnuendOlympics

I'm watching all the Olympics I can. (Even obscure stuff like men's field hockey!) NBC is finally entering the 20th Century (No, that's not a typo)-- They're allowing us to watch events online, after downloading a special video viewer. It's eerie because we see the entire event, from start to finish, without all that "Up Close and Personal" nonsense and without commercial interruption.

And without all that chatter from the play-by-play guy and the color commentator.

But, if you want to, you can read the chatter. See illustration above, from live coverage of Men's 62Kg, Group A Weightlifting for the highlight (so far!) of the Olympics commentary: "Oh, my, that's a fantastic snatch!"

I am soooo immature.

Liar Liar Unzipped Pants On Fire!

I always knew John Edward's unhealthy obsession with his hair was indicative of a deeper character flaw. Turns out Mr. Family Man was running around on his wife while she battled cancer. Way to go, Johnny Boy!

Of course, he's been denying this story for months... even calling the National Enquirer's accusations "tabloid trash." Now it seems the only trash is Edwards himself.

The timing of his admission is hardly surprising. If you want a salacious story to disappear, make it public late on a Friday, during the opening day of the Olympics. One unexpected gold medal from a cute athlete and the media will forget about any of your silly wrongdoings.

The story, of course, should have been broken by the New York Times, not the National Enquirer... and you know darn well the NYT was well aware of what he was doing.

Reporting on the "personal life" of a Presidential candidate might not be news to some, but reporting on a Presidential candidate who is paying a woman (aka his mistress) with no prior film making experience over $100,000.00 to videotape his campaign, should be news to all. (Maybe he likes to videotape himself having sex?)

I think everybody who donated to the Edward's campaign should ask for a refund.

But the real reason I'm writing about John Edwards is because I always look for an excuse to run my favorite clip of him brushing his hair.

Madonna's Look Is Causing A Commotion

I'm glad I'm too poor to afford plastic surgery. Apparently, money plus a mirror plus too much time, often equals hideous results.

Spend a few minutes over at AwfulPlasticSurgery.com and you'll find the strength to grow old gracefully. Their recent posting, about the Material Girl's medical debacle, compared her new look to Skeletor.

Here's a London Daily Mail pic:




I think she looks more like Jar Jar Binks.



And by the time she's 60, she'll move like him as well.

Philly Says Goodbye To Robert Hazard

Philadelphia music fans were shocked when the news of Robert Hazard's death began circulating online. Worldwide, Hazard is best known as the writer behind Cindy Lauper's 1980's mega-hit "Girls Just Want To Have Fun."

He died of cancer at the age of 59.

Here is Hazard performing mere weeks ago on July 18.

The 2008 Olympics

In less time than it takes to say, "Hey, that German chick's a dude" the Beijing Olympics will begin. The motto for the 2008 games is "One World, One Dream" which doesn't exactly sound inspirational coming out of the mouths of commies. It sounds... ominous. Not even the cuddly panda mascots can make it sound cute.

A more realistic motto should be "One Smoggy Country, One Canceled Event."

Back in 2002, I wrote an essay for SHECKYmagazine.com about my love for the Olympics.

Citius. Altius. Fortius. No, those aren't the names of the Latin Three Stooges. The words mean faster, higher, stronger and together they form the official motto for the Olympic Games. In my world however, it's become an ironic term since, after two weeks of lying on my back watching the televised events, I have become slower, lower and weaker.

I love the Olympics. I have loved the Olympics since I was a little girl. So, when some of my February gigs were cancelled at the last minute, I was secretly thrilled to find myself home and in front of the TV for the entire two weeks of the Salt Lake games. And I watched it all. Katie and Matt in the morning. Hannah Storm in the afternoon. Bob Costas in primetime. I even managed to endure the late night coverage with the unbelievably annoying Pat O'Brien (for whom I've coined the term hackass, which is a delightful combination of the words hack and jackass). Not since Bill Geist roamed, Godzilla-like, through the Olympic village in Nagano have I been so aggravated by a pseudo-journalist.

When I first learned that the 2002 Olympic Games would be held in Salt Lake City, I had a very un-Utah-like reaction. "Utah," I screamed, "What the f**k could they be thinking?" (The cursing, of course, being the un-Utah-like part.) My husband, the clairvoyant cynic, added, "Who did they pay off to make that happen?" Well, the Salt Lake committee paid off quite a few people, actually. Thus, the Winter Olympics were awarded to a city that could easily make polygamy a demonstration sport. Four man bobsled? Bad. One man, three women bobsled? Very, very good.

Don't get me wrong, Utah is a beautiful state, but when you invite the world to a giant party it's only polite to serve your guests more than green Jell-O. I've been to Utah. Getting a drink in Utah is only slightly more difficult that getting food in Ethiopia, so the thought of not serving a stein of beer to the giant German luger who had just won his fifth medal, made me just a tad nervous for the fresh-faced Bringham Young student forced to offer him a Coke instead. "Don't worry," the mayor of Salt Lake Salt Lake assured the globe, "You'll be able to get a drink at the Olympics." Ok, but what are we supposed to tell the team from Jamaiica?

Four years ago, I was fortunate enough to be in Ottawa for a good chunk of the winter games and, while the events were taking place halfway around the world in Japan, the good folks in Canada (or should I say the good folks at the CBC) had the sense to show the Olympics live. Much to my surprise, I was able to watch the Men's Ice Skating finals at 3 AM. Seventeen hours later, and with many commercial interruptions, the event was shown in the states. I was also treated to hours and hours of uninterrupted curling and I became a huge fan of the Canadian curling gold medalist Sandra Schmirler. Until her death from cancer two years ago, I can say, with some certainty, that I was the only American comic who did a Sandra Schmirler impression onstage.

In retrospect, it's difficult to choose my favorite moment from the 2002 Olympics mostly because my favorite moments would never make it on to an NBC highlight reel. In my book, if it isn't hilarious and worthy of ridicule, then it's just not a highlight. For instance, was it my imagination, or did the gold medal winning ice dancing team from France skate to Martin Luther King's "I Had A Dream" speech? Do you think trivializing great moments in history for the delight of the crowd could become a trend in ice skating? Perhaps Michelle Kwan would have won if she had just skated to the Emancipation Proclomation?

And boy, oh, boy, do ice skaters fall down a lot! Lately, it seems, the gold medal is awarded to the only skater who doesn't have ice on his or her ass. I'm suprised more of them don't skate to Spike Jones' music just so when they hit the ground it looks deliberate! Speaking of music, one female skater fell down quite a bit to The Man In The Iron Mask. Personally, I think once her medal dreams were dashed she should have just skated around the ice, grabbing her face and yelling, "Get it off! Get it off!"

Skaters aren't the only ones who fall flat on their faces. Occasionally, a weepy, fur-clad French judge will do the same. "Skate Gate"-- as the Pat O'Brien's of the world couldn't resist calling it-- dominated the coverage during the first week of the Olympics and through it all we learned two very important lessons that we should have already known. Number one: Figure skating judges are corrupt. Number two: The Russians still hate us. Is anyone all that suprised?

For those of you who did not witness the infamous event, I will sum it up for you in four choppy sentences. The Canadians deserved the gold. The Russians did not. The Canadians handled the controversy with grace. The Russians did not.

Anton Sikharulidze, one half of the undeserving pair, was quoted as saying, "We watched the tape. We deserved the gold." Anton, baby, apparently you fast forwarded through the part where you were flailing helplessly across the ice. On the Today show, his surly partner Yelena Berezhnaya told the perky host, "Why don't you just give out three gold medals? The Americans got a standing ovation, why don't you give one to them, too?" How do you say bitch in Russian? Geez, Yelena Berezhnaya makes Nancy Kerrigan look like the Snuggles bear.

Years ago, my husband and I won free tickets to see A Skater's Tribute To Broadway at the First Union Center in Philadelphia. (Or the F.U. Center, as we like to call it.) On the bill, along with Nancy Kerrigan, were Yelena Berezhnaya and Anton Sikharulidze. For their tribute to Broadway, the pair skated while Alan Thicke stood next to the rink and sang live. Hmm...skating while you're listening to Alan Thicke sing... hmm... you know what, let them keep the gold. Perhaps they have suffered enough.

(It's time for a SHECKYmagazine.com challenge: Try typing Anton Sikharulidze and Yelena Berezhnaya really fast five times. Sorry, but Russians are not eligible to participate. Oh well, it just gives them one more reason to hate us.)

I'm going to miss the Olympics. I won't, however, miss watching the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. Normally, I don't watch Leno, but since my TV was permantly tuned to NBC for two weeks, I found myself cringing nightly at his show. I ask you, when did Jay Leno become a gold medal cheap shot artist? He displays all the subtlety of an ice dancing costume. In a particularly low moment, he asked Canadian pairs skater David Pelletier if he became romantically interested in partner Jamie Sale when he looked up during a lift. I think his exact words were, "Did you look up and say 'Hey, I like that?'" Why didn't he just say, "Hey, David, did you decide to ask Jamie out after you got a good look at her crotch?" Shame on you, Jay Leno. Mr. Carson would have never done such a thing.

But I really will miss the Olympics. I'll miss hearing the national anthems. I'll miss the tears of joy and the tears of sorrow. I'll miss giggling at the two-man luge. Most of all, I'll miss just laying around with nothing to do for two weeks.

I have until 2004 to rest up for the summer games in Athens. I just hope they don't let the athletes compete naked like they did in the first Olympics. "Hey, the German is using two poles in the vault! Oops, my mistake!"

The New York Onion

I think the New York Post has secretly been purchased by The Onion. How else can you explain this article about wealthy Hollywood celebrities who are feeling the effects of the "worst economic slump in 80 years"?

Not only is Kate Walsh drinking out of the tap and Rebecca Romijn forbidden by her husband to buy shoes, but poor Valerie Bertinelli is taking the summer one day at a time.

"We are not taking a vacation this year," says Valerie Bertinelli, star of the upcoming Lifetime original movie "True Confessions of A Hollywood Starlet."

"We are doing a stay-cation," she says. "Staying at home. Hanging out by the pool, barbecuing."

Oh, Ms. Romano, what did you do with all your Jenny Craig money? Eat it? (By the way, I think your sponsors would have preferred if you had said, "Staying at home. Hanging out by the pool and eating delicious Jenny Craig entrees."

Perhaps, Val, if you hadn't spent so much money on food this past decade you would have been able to start a vacation club. Just a thought.

What does she mean she can't afford a vacation?! Hell, I just took a vacation and I can't afford anything!

I guess she means she can't afford first class tickets, $1,000 a night hotel room and dinner at the finest restaurants. I just paid $450 roundtrip to Honolulu and had an ocean view for $150 per night and purchased $10 salads at Wolfgang Puck Express. Ex-husband, Eddie Van Halen, probably spends that much money every day on vodka.

I guess she feels pretty silly for having rejected Steven Spielberg as a suitor many years ago merely because he didn't eat garlic. I can guarantee his current wife isn't having a "staycation" this summer. And if she does, then I bet she'll hire a chef to do the barbecuing.

A Present From The Boys In Trenton

Nothing can kill a vacation buzz quicker than picking up your mail. Next time I'll wait a week and allow myself to be in The Zone a little longer.

In my P.O. box today was a bill for $250.00 from Quest Diagnostics for tests I didn't want yet the state of New Jersey insist that I have.

When I first visited my gynecologist after discovering that I was pregnant, he informed me that the state of New Jersey mandates that I be tested for HIV, chlamydia and gonorrhea. But I knew-- and turned out to be right-- that the pregnancy was no longer viable. Logically speaking, testing for viability should have been performed before any obligatory search for sexually transmitted diseases. But, apparently, rules are rules.

There's only one big, fat problem with this little rule. Somebody has to pay for the tests and, this time, that somebody is me.

In the year prior to the paternalistic state legislators passing the HIV screening requirement, there were no mother-to-child transmissions recorded. Out of the 115,00 state births every year, only two are on record for 2006 and seven for 2005. So where's the crisis?

Which congressman or senator got a big bag of cash from the pharmaceutical or laboratory companies for pushing this pointless piece of legislation? How else can you explain its existence?

The ACLU, NOW and other critics claim it's an invasion of privacy. Proponents claim that rates have dropped in states where testing is required.

Statistically, mandatory STD testing for a 42-year-old white woman who has been married for 20 years is the equivalent of strip searching grandma at airport security.

I want to send the bill to one of my representatives with a note that reads, "You wanted it, so you pay for it." My husband just wants me to write a check and get on with my life.

Apparently, my doctor could have informed me that refusing was an option. But then I would have been tagged and mandatory testing of the baby (which there was no baby at that point anyway) would have occurred at birth. I'm guessing he didn't want to do the paperwork... and if the state of New Jersey has a requirement that's ignored, oh boy, you can bet there's paperwork.

I would have much rather put the $250.00 towards my next Hawaiia trip. Right now I feel like I need another vacation.

Aloha From New Jersey!

After a 22-hour door-to-door travel day, we're back in our humble abode.

We arrived at the Honolulu Airport for our 11:25 PM flight only to find out it had been changed to a 10:15 PM flight. Luckily we decided to arrive slightly early. It would have been nice to get a courtesy call from Delta especially since the online info stayed the same. As much as I wanted to spend more time in paradise, I did not want to miss the flight and then have our vacation mode ruined by my yelling and complaining.

After a scheduled four-hour layover in Atlanta, our plane was delayed for two hours due to lightning. In fact, we were next in line to board when we learned the airport was shutting down.

Upon landing in Philadelphia we were told that our luggage was still up in the sky on another plane and wouldn't touch ground for an hour. So, we headed off to South Philly and split a Roast Pork Italiano sandwich from Tony Luke's before heading back to retrieve our belongings. We were determined not to get upset about anything.

But now we feel like we've been run over by a truck.

It's only 8 in Honolulu. I hope we can sleep.

Aloha From Hawaii-- 10

When in Hawaii, do as the Romans do! Or is it when in Rome do as the Hawaiians do? I suppose this is just my awkward way of saying I decided to have SPAM for breakfast. The locals love SPAM. I used to love SPAM. We always had a can of it around our house when I was growing up but I probably haven't tasted the chopped and formed ham product since 1983. I liked it but I'm guessing it'll be another quarter of a decade before I eat it again. (My apologies to the Monty Python fans who now have "SPAM, SPAM, SPAM, SPAM" stuck in their heads.)

We told our friend's kids that SPAM stands for "Space Ham." It's so sad that they actually believe almost everything we say. I'm terrified that as adults they will make fools of themselves by announcing to other adults that SPAM is really Space Ham. Let's hope they never try to date a Hawaiian.



One of the things the kids will remember from this trip is my husband's MP3 hat. Before we left the mainland he loaded his MP3 player with Hawaiian music and then decided mid-trip to store the MP3 player in his hat. So for the last few days, he's had slide-guitar and ukulele songs eminating from his head. He's convinced that if he can figure out a way to make his MP3 hat waterproof, he'll make a fortune.



We decided to spend the morning driving up along the west coast, on the leeward side of the island, to Yokohama Bay. While the scenery itself is spectacular, the beaches consist of one shanty-town after another. At first we thought they were just campers until we realized that these were permanent "residents."

Our trip was cut short when Sylvia (the four-year-old... not pictured) fell or jumped into volcanic mud. Her parents were understandably upset but we hid behind the van and howled. She looked like she had been dipped in chocolate. We should have rolled her in the sand to add the chopped nut effect.



Our last vacation day is currently in a rain delay. We leave tonight at 11:30 so we we're hoping to get in some last minute pool and shave ice fun. We may just have to settle for a nap.

I can't say I'm looking forward to another 20-hour travel day (we change planes in LA and Atlanta) but I'm sure we'll spend most of our time plotting our return.

Aloha From Hawaii-- 9

Oahu is know as "The Gathering Place" but our friend found a typo in a guide book that called it "The Fathering Place." Perhaps this explains why tourism has dropped off lately. "I went to Hawaii and all I got was this lousy kid."


We decided to stay behind at the resort and do nothing while our friends took the kids to Hanauma Bay for some snorkeling. I know it sounds like we did nothing yesterday but trying to keep two children from drowning for five hours is hardly nothing. It was exhausting.


Today we just wanted to sit in the sun, frolic in the surf, read our books and have a fish sandwich (no, that's not a euphemism.)

Speaking of fish, somebody on our floor cooked fish for dinner and for hours the hallway smelled like a locker room at a strip joint. (Oh yeah, I went there.)


I'm getting punchy. Either I'm anxious about leaving tomorrow or I've had too many vodka/mango smoothies. I find if you call them smoothies instead of daiquiris, it sounds less tawdry and a lot more healthy.