“My book editor, Allyson Latta, asked me to write an essay for her new website www.allysonlatta.ca, which will launch in the second week of June. The essay is about how to write a successful blog. I outline The 10 Steps To A Successful Blog and I promise you will smile, laugh, or snort at least once.”
Posts Tagged ‘smile’
Putting Out Fires
Posted in Daily Life, tagged Ballet, chess, club, Dance, Firemen, fitness, Hunky, kisses, love, Magnolia Bakery, New Yorker, Rosie O'Donnell, smile, Stuart Weitzman on May 18, 2010 | Leave a Comment »
“In any city, I hate to be a tourist. I get this from my Mum. Whether she is in Paris or Mexico City, it is imperative that the inhabitants believe she is in her hometown. She accomplishes this with outfits: chic pantsuits with kitten heals in one city and breezy skirts with Weitzman sandals in another. I, on the other hand, use attitude. When I’m dragging my suitcase through Columbus Circle, attitude is the only way to get by. The New Yorkers on the streets thought I was returning from a glamourous trip abroad instead of hopping from one apartment to the next. It was my usual Visiting Fireman routine.
“Visiting Firemen: Term developed by Dear, my paternal grandmother.
Definition: People who speed from one location to another, dropping quick hellos and goodbyes like hot potatoes. I know firemen don’t throw hot potatoes at fires. Just roll with it.”
Reality TV
Posted in Daily Life, tagged club, fitness, Hunky, smile on February 14, 2010 | 3 Comments »
“It’s difficult to decide which is more entertaining—the trashy TV or the members themselves. One older gentleman introduced himself as James Bond. I wasn’t fooled. His gym card said Peter in big bold black pen. Another younger gym buff makes a big loud show in front of me every time he enters or leaves the facility. “And remember, Bob,” he bellowed from across the reception desk, “your wife will love it.” Sufficiently repulsed, I stood up to fold some towels. Bob proceeded to tell me that the gym buff suggested waxing Bob’s chest. Bob is approximately 65 years old. I doubt his wife has been waiting through forty odd years of marriage for the day when he finally waxes off his rug. If gym buff was trying to discreetly inform me of his hairless chest, I am not impressed. My Hunk has the most wonderful hairy chest and if he ever suggested waxing it, I would pinch his nipples, and not in a good way.”
