Just one more...

I am salivating ... Paris has just been moved from the medical ward of a maximum security prison back to that horrid isolation cell (translate, single room!) because she has been found mentally and medically stable. Pray for her. She is a fragile thing.

Meantime, the LA Times has concluded that Paris has already spent more time behind bars than anyone else with a similar conviction. I never liked that newspaper.

And finally, it has come to my attention that Paris is expected to be released on June 25, one day before my 46th birthday. I have contacted her father about doing a joint birthday/get out of jail party. You are all invited. ;)

Sorry, Gretchen. I couldn't resist.

Finding God and ... not driving

OK, so Paris has found God now. She is going to use her 45 days in jail to think about her life and do good things. she will no longer "act dumb ... I've tried that before and it isn't cute." Lord Jesus, Paris has been saved.

Meantime, her father Rick - the one who owns all those Hilton hotels and who we haven't heard word one from in all this jailhouse rock - has decided to throw his daughter a "getting out of jail" party when she's done her time. In Vegas. And she'll get paid big bucks just to show up.

Only one little problem. A few party hot spots in Vegas have already refused to be the venue for this celebration: it wouldn't be good for their image, they say. Translate: Paris Hilton is not even good enough for Vegas. George Hamilton must be in h-e-a-v-e-n.

I'm having a bad life at work these days. We're looking for a full-time publisher so I can move into national editing work full-time. Then my calendar editor throws in the towel and this week my editor puts in her notice. What. Is there something in the water? So now I'm interviewing big ole publisher candidates, calendar editors candidates and soon editor candidates. I am getting NOTHING done except interviews.

Yesterday I interviewed a beaut for the calendar editor post. A willowy blonde from the Back Bay. High-pitched Caroline-does-Audrey voice, complete with giggle. I'm explaining the position to her and she lets it fly that 1.) she doesn't have kids, but she reads the magazine regularly (huh?); 2.) she doesn't have a car; and 3.) she doesn't drive. I get the lack of a car in the city thing. But she doesn't drive? How then does she expect to get to, say, Plimoth Plantation on occasion to keep up with the attractions and events there as calendar editor?
"Oh, I usually take the T when I need transportation... hee, hee, hee..." To PLYMOUTH??? What an eskimo pie head. NEXT!!!

And another thing ...

OK. I am incensed - INCENSED - that Paris Hilton is walking out of jail after only five days because of "medical issues." Pul-eeze. What kind of a message does that send to anyone else who likes to drive while inebriated? What kind of message does it send to teenagers? That chick is a loser and so is her mom.

Normally I don't really care about Paris, Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan and the like. But I have two teenage daughters who pay attention to this stuff, so I have to - just to keep up. It's appalling what's happening to young ladies in the limelight in this country.

They ALL need to take a road trip up to the county. ;)

How to talk to a Boston cop

Today, I had to drop off items for our table at the annual Scooper Bowl in City Hall Plaza in Boston. This is like chowderfest, Kimmie, only with samples of ice cream. We had a great booth by the exit where we could bring in some entertainers (clown, face painter, storyteller, etc.) and hand out our magazines. Anyway... you guys know how I drive. Basically, I DON'T. At least not well. I pull up to the plaza and this cute officer of the law approaches my car and says, "I don't wanna bust your chops honey, but you're parked in a fire lane and Mayor Menino gets awfully mad when people do that." Mayor MENINO does??? I don't even want to think about the tickets that guy gets written off every day. So I say, rather demurely, "Oh dear. I just want to drop a few things off for the Scooper Bowl..." And I flash a little smile. And he says, "Well, why don't you just drive right into the Plaza. Here, I'll open the gate for you."

How very nice. I just have to teach Meghan this method. Because a week ago, there was a news story down here about a teenager with a junior operator's license who got a speeding ticket (42 in a 30mph zone), paid the $130 fine and then gets a letter from the state telling her she's lost her license for 90 days and will have to pay $500 to get it reinstated once the three months are up. First offense. Yeesh. How many of us have driven 42 in a 30? If nothing else, it makes me sound like less of a nag when I tell her to drive the speed limit.

Si...

Ooh, I haven't been keeping up with this blog. Apologies. Here's my story from Mexico. Every Mexican hotel maintenance guy wears a Yankee's cap. What is up with that? One morning, I walk from our hotel to a deli to get some bagels for breakfast and I see this maintenance guy gardening. So I stop, say hello and then comment, "Yankees, huh?" And he says, "Si."
And I say, "I'm from Boston. We like the Red Sox."
"Si."
"You know the Red Sox?"
"Si."
"So... is there a Mexican on the Yankees or somethin'?"
"Si."
"Oh."
"Si."

And then as I'm walking away, baffled cuz I'm not sure he understands a word of what I'm saying, he says: "Boston. Those are nice people up there."

So, of course, I say, "Si."

Puerta Vallarta, by the way, is gorgeous. I highly recommend it if you want to see a part of Mexico that's not built up specifically for Americans the way Cancun is. It's all mountains, ocean, houses built into cliffs. Really nice, nice people who are very proud of their city. It was lovely.
And then we come back home to weather on Monday with temps of 85 degrees. 75 degrees Tuesday and 60s today. Finally spring. I'm feeling very, very spoiled. Si...

"Things to do before you die"

I had to help a friend and freelancer come up with these for a piece he's doing for Men's Health. You know... the typical "see the seven natural wonders of the world," "go skydiving," " live in a foreign city for a year"...
We came up with quite a few. And then I brought the whole question home to the dinner table and got the best answer from Meghan:

"Be a Walmart Greeter for a day."

Seriously. We all should do that before we die. ;) Megs turned 17 Monday night. 17. Wow.