wise_kaplan

Asking my maid Peaches if she thinks the coffee is going to make itse

Just my luck. Being chased by a laoulid.

Winterizing my mailbox in case this is the year someone sends me a mini- horse.

Kate Murphy, still living in Houston. Please. Won't you do something to help? Today?

Envious that my new neighbors get to sleep late on Sunday mornings. And the way they're spooning.

I'm not drunk. I'm just fluffy.

I'm a Bob Denver guy in a John Denver world.

I'm a Roger Clinton guy in a Hillary Clinton world.

Drinking my first "nut-cracker." Goes down smooth.

At a meeting with the senior editor who always says, "Ruh-roh!", half in jest, whenever a problem comes up.

"I thought you might like to know, sir, the Beaujolais Nouveau has arrived," says my male secretary, Evelyn. This guy.

Walking up Third Avenue, just grabbed a guy in a bear hug and twirled him around. Thought it was my dentist. My bad.

I'll say this about Breslin. The man knows how to wear a suit.

The ghost children from all different eras seem not frightened in the least as I tell them a ghost story.

My Internet and cell phone service both out. Guess I'll just wile away the time Tweeting.

Coffee and turkey sandwiches at the Viand with Charlie Rose. He's got some Russian dressing on his chin. Right... there. Yeah, you got it.

Twitter. The sound of one hand tapping.

Yes. Have a ball. RT @helenSpitzer: Anyone familiar with the Bedford Rd. exit of St. George station and the Starbucks nearby? Quick Q

On Metro-North sitting next to my pal Ned, both pretending we're aghast at stuff.

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