Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Talking To Strangers ... and other "stranger" things

I am a huge Malcolm Gladwell fan.

Hoping there are those among my readers who are too. His latest book, Talking to Strangers, is truly brilliant. At the end of the day, you might still not know how to talk to strangers but you'll have a much better understanding of why it is challenging to discern the truth.

Gladwell is an engaging storyteller, and in Talking to Strangers, he tells lots of stories. He delves into the Jerry Sandusky pedophilia scandal at Penn State University, the trial of Amanda Knox in Italy, Hitler meeting Chamberlain and convincing him that war was not his priority ... even Sylvia Plath's suicide. The villains are many, ranging from Hernán Cortés, the Spanish conquistador, whose inability to communicate with Aztec ruler Montezuma II led to Montezuma's death and the eventual end of the Aztec empire; to Fidel Castro, who planted a Cuban mole into the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency, which the agency, despite troubling warning signs, failed to detect for over a decade; to Bernie Madoff, who conned his way to the top of a massive Ponzi scheme involving some of the biggest institutions on Wall Street.

I could go on and on about the rich contents in this book.

But the basic message is something we can all relate to: Our ability to communicate and truly understand who we meet and talk to every day. We are fallible. Actually more than we even realize. Gladwell presents us with case history after case history where this happens. He tells us that people default to the positive whenever there's a question about validity. In other words, when we meet someone that tells us a story, we tend to believe it. This is not a bad thing. If we were suspicious all the time, we would be pretty miserable all the time. But in the cases of Madoff, Sandusky, Hitler (in the early years) and others, the people who believed that they were honorable people were fooled for years. And these were not trusting ignorant folks that were duped.

There is also a fascinating section on human behavior and crime and suicide rates. The novelist Sylvia Plath took her own life by putting her head in the oven and turning on the gas. At the time of her death, English residents were supplied with "town gas". This was a toxic mixture of chemicals with a large amount of carbon monoxide. The suicide rate among young white women in this era that chose this method was about 45%. Obviously, this was a method of choice. Over the next ten years, England moved to natural gas which had very low toxicity and not enough to cause death. The numbers of white women who committed suicide in general decreased dramatically ... more than half ... proving not only that the change not only decreased rates but also prevented suicide rates overall and that women didn't choose other methods.

Crime rates in Kansas City dropped when police applied successful methods to remove guns and criminals from high crime neighborhoods. AND there wasn't a resurgence in other parts of the city as many thought would occur. Criminals were just like other citizens. They didn't want to move. It was too stressful!

I'll let you discover the rest. You will be amazed at how incredibly interesting this book is. Buy the audio version and you can hear actual interviews.

You'll love it! (you believe me right?)

Monday, November 25, 2019

Bowling Is NOT For Sissies

Went bowling the other day.

Yes, you read that correctly. It was actually the first time that Debbie and I had a real "retiree" date in the afternoon.

We were originally headed for a movie, Motherless Brooklyn, but missed the start time. So we needed a plan for an activity until the movie started. I had the brilliant idea to try bowling (since I hadn't picked up a bowling ball since 1986).

So, we drove the car to the classy lanes close to our neighborhood ... the ones that just had the sign "BOWL" on the building. Inside, it was a different world than the bowling alleys I remember.

First stop was, of course, picking up rental shoes. They were black and had velcro straps. No yellow, red and green stripes with laces that were two miles long. I was stunned. They actually fit too.

The young attendant told us we were on lane ten ... easy to find since there was only one other couple bowling and they were on lane twelve. They had all the gear ... shirts, bowling bag, fancy multicolored balls ... we were in trouble.
But ... undeterred we went on the search for our balls.

There were lots of bright colors like yellow and green and orange. I went right past them and found the old school ball in the corner that looked like it had been just cast aside. The Brunswick Crown Jewel. Who cared if the finger holes were off center and too small ... this was MY ball.

Debbie got a red one I think.

Lane ten didn't have any regular seats or the scoring desk that the transparent score sheets sat on with the overhead monitors that you wrote your scores on with the yellow pencils ... remember those?

None of the lanes had them.

There were these little electronic pads that do it all for you. Man ... you can't play an extra frame or write obscenities on the screen or change your scores.

What are we teaching our children these days?

Speaking of obscenities, there were no shortage of them from the couple on Lane 12. Apparently Mr. Tourette was very particular about his technique and pretty vocal whenever he didn't pick up a spare. He bowled on two different lanes and pretty much knocked down his wife if she bowled too slowly.

Wait until he saw us bowl.

I couldn't figure out the buttons on the crazy pads so we just bowled as Player 1 and Player 2. It really didn't matter because we were equal in every aspect: bad footwork, inability to hit the pins and looking like we were going through drug withdrawal as we released the balls. Mr. and Mrs. Tourette were not impressed. Even though they were a couple of alleys down, they waited their turns until we finished ours. I guess our bad form affected theirs and they apparently needed another reason to curse.  Okay, maybe my constant falling into their lane didn't help.

We finished out of the running for top scores of the year. We DID both break 100 though. (and most of the bones in our bodies).

Good times!

Monday, November 11, 2019

My Rewrte: "BABY, JUST GO OUTSIDE"



I just heard there is a new version of Baby It's Cold Outside recorded by John Legend and Kelly Clarkson. They changed the classic lyrics to make everything politically correct like ...

     The neighbors might think (Baby it's cold outside)
                     to
     What will my friends think? (IT'S YOUR BODY AND YOUR CHOICE)

Really? The song is just a funny song about dating but has been bastardised beyond recognition (because of a few bastards like Cosby and Weinstein). Well ... it's not quite there yet so I took liberties. I rewrote all the guy parts after the first verse to make it palatable and more real.

What do you think?



BABY JUST GO OUTSIDE by Me


I really can't stay
But, baby, it's cold outside
I've got to go away
But, baby, it's cold outside
This evening has been ...'So very nice
I'll hold your hands they're just like ice

My mother will start to worry 
Actually, you're looking a little pale
My father will be pacing the floor 
If you pass out I will too.
So really I'd better scurry.
Is scurry the same as throw up?
Well, maybe just half a drink more 
Uh, I don't think so.

The neighbors might think.
Yeah they're pretty nosey
Say what's in this drink? 
I don't know you made it.
I wish I knew how to break this spell. 
I'll hold your head you don't look well.

I ought to say no, no, no, sir.
I'll just warm up the car.
At least I'm gonna say that I tried
It's been a "trying" kind of night.
I really can't stay
I heard you ... Baby, just go outside

I simply must go 
I know I know
The answer is no
Are you seeing a therapist
The welcome has been ... So nice and warm 
You've spilled your drink right down my arm 

My sister will be suspicious
The one with the green hair and tattoos?
My brother will be there at the door 
That's cause no one let's him in.
My maiden aunt's mind is vicious
No duh
But maybe just a cigarette more
Four packs aren't enough?

I got to get home
Yes ... I definitely agree.
Say lend me a coat
The one you threw up on?
You've really been grand 
Yeah ... I'm such a real prince.

There's bound to be talk tomorrow 
You got that right.
At least there will be plenty implied
If you're talking murder ... I'm close.
I really can't stay 
NO YOU CAN'T 
BABY JUST GO OUTSIDE!

Sunday, July 14, 2019

A Love Letter to Tom


Today, we said goodbye to Tom.

This is a hard line to write. I keep rereading it as I write this post about a guy who has touched so many lives and has had such an incredible impact on how we live ours. Ironically, Tom was such a humble guy and would probably hate all this focus on him. He also hated too much sentimentality and embraced irreverence. He would never forgive me if I didn't say something about farting at this point.

Tom Masterson was my brother in law, married to Debbie's twin sister Dennie, and the closest thing to a blood brother I had since my own brother passed away 20 years ago. He and Dennie have three great kids who married three great kids and who now have a total of eight great kids of their own. We have a big family ... very big family ... a real blessing when you're fighting a horrible disease like pancreatic cancer.

Tom was a medical malpractice attorney. No, he was not the billboard grinning, shiny suit ambulance chaser. Tom was an ethical, professional, compassionate attorney who stood heads above the rest. He was given just about every award of excellence that the Bar Association awards every year.

He was loved by everyone. That's not an exaggeration. He really was. And as I said earlier ... he was irreverent with friends and family, telling jokes and playing jokes on just about all of them. And I really think that we all loved him for it because we knew that he truly loved everyone he joked with and about. Tom was an encyclopedia of jokes. He remembered every one he'd ever heard. I was so jealous of that because I forgot every joke as soon as I told one.

Did I mention farting?

Tom was an athlete all his life. His real love was judo. He competed on the big stage, trained athletes and went to the olympics as a coach. They all remained very close over the years. Apparently, that was where Tom got his finely tuned sense of irreverence. Spending an evening with the judo buddies is not for the faint of heart. I had that pleasure often and marvelled at the stories ... the brutal punishments they dished out on the mats ... and in the locker rooms (even I can't tell you some of those stories).

Tom died of complications from pancreatic cancer. He fought against the odds for three years and finally lost one of the few matches in which he'd ever competed. He never complained. You would have never even known he was feeling any pain or discomfort. He travelled with the family, went swimming with the grandkids and had regular lunches with the guys until the very end.

He was my hero, He was a real man ... in yiddish we call that a "mensch".

So I would like to ask you to do me a favor after you read this. In Tom's memory I'd like you to muster up all your strength and let out one last beautiful FART.

I know he's smiling.    

Saturday, July 13, 2019

I Used To Draw Good

Once upon a time, when I was a young college student (231 years ago), I dreamed of being a famous illustrator/cartoonist. My college years were in the heyday of Doonesbury and Peanuts. I majored in Graphic Design and set up my drawing board, cleaned off my rapidiograph pens and went to work. These were the days before computer animation and design so everything was done by hand. 

NOTE: Please bear with me as I dig up these obscure past documents that I have come across because I'm getting a little bored with sitting around talking to my hip.

Okay where was I? 


Oh Yeah ... so I start working at All Children's Hospital in the 80s and become the Marketing/Communications Director and find a dearth of great material from the docs and the nurses and volunteers and the kids. I didn't remember half of these until I recently looked through my stuff.

Some of them don't even suck. I thought I'd share them with you in case you need more material at bedtime to put you to sleep. Remember, there is a reason I moved into Development work.

The radiologist at All Children's was a great model. These were pretty accurate. He had his kindergarten diploma framed and prominently displayed in his office. \

Okay ... one more and I promise I'll leave you alone.


Until next time when I uncover some other useless gem!

Wednesday, July 3, 2019

Hip Ways to Sleep

Three weeks out and my hip is finally acting like it’s a real part of my body. Although, there are still days that I have apparently made my new hip very unhappy. Those are the days that I need a little help to calm him down.

Tramadol is the answer.

I take it before bed to help with pain and to help me sleep. It works. Actually, it works so well that sometimes I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between sleeping, dreaming and having a long conversation.

Deb told me the other night I had a whole conversation with myself, laughed a lot and then had a whole conversation with her. Deb doesn’t know whether to answer, wake me up or just listen. She's heard all the old wives tales about waking up a sleepwalker so she figured that applied sleep talkers too. So ... she usually just listens.

Last night I asked a Debbie what she meant about breaking her spine and wanted to know how she flew around like that. This time I was awake when I asked her but asleep during the first part of the conversations. I swore that the conversation actually happened ... then I went back to sleep.

Tramadol is not for the faint of heart or faint of stomach. That's right ... stomach. Use it long enough and you experience some pretty unpleasant symptoms. I'll leave it there.

Fortunately, I don't need it as much these days. Feeling much better! The doctor took out the sutures yesterday and said I'm making progress. Hope to see you soon.

Right after I get out of the bathroom.



Monday, July 1, 2019

Cocktail Napkins are Just Plain Useless

Cocktail napkins are truly one of the most useless creations of out time.

I held one the other day and wondered who ever thought that this was a good idea? I guess napkin manufacturers saw a market for them or at least a pretty good profit margin.  They cost almost as much as full sized napkins and are less than half the size.

So here’s what they are used for.

1. Protecting the bar top from your cocktail glass dreaded rings.

Let’s look at that for a second. Have you ever put your drink on a cocktail napkin for more than a minute? What happens? It falls apart, shreds, and creates more liquid on the bar than your original glass. What’s wrong with coasters? And have you checked out bar tops lately? They really need protection?

2. To hold at a cocktail party when apps are passed around.

How does that work for you? It is the companion to a small paper plate that holds one egg roll which you eat in one bite and search for somewhere to throw your cocktail napkin away.

3. If you feel a sneeze coming on it might be a handy thing to keep in your pocket.

Oh yeah. That works well. One of my sneezes is enough to create a mud slide. Obviously the cocktail napkin wouldn’t come close to containing my sneezes. It doesn’t even contain my nose.

Who would sit around and worry about these kind of things? Me. I’ll put it aside for now. There are more important things to worry about. Like ... what do you do with the toothpick that was in the watermelon squares. 

Sunday, June 23, 2019

Try Schitt's Creek ... My New FAVORITE Series

Oh yeah.

As if the title isn't funny enough ... the plotline, the characters and the writing will keep you in stitches. Many thanks to Carol Long who turned me on to this series after my last blog post.

This is one you'll want to binge watch on Netflix.

The plot centers on a wealthy couple (video magnate Johnny Rose and his soap opera star wife Moira) who suddenly find themselves completely broke. With their one remaining asset, a town they bought as a joke called Schitt's Creek, this couple must give up life as they know it. They move with their two spoiled children to the town's one motel.     

Eugene Levy (Johnny) is the producer and co creator with his son, Daniel Levy (David Rose). Levy is a familiar face to all who are fans of the Christopher Guest films ... Spinal Tap, Mighty Wind, Best of Show, and more. as is his co-star Catherine O'Hara (Moira).   

Watch it this week. YOU WILL THANK ME.
  

Friday, June 21, 2019

Top 5 Movies And Their Sequels to Binge Watch When You Are Recovering from Surgery and Stuck Inside For More Than a Week

Here's my list of my go-to films that I never get tired of watching. I thought I'd share just a few ...

1. VACATION (2015) This sequel to the National Lampoon Vacation series is truly hilarious. Ed Helms plays Rusty Griswold (son of Clark "Sparky") all grown up with his own family. Christina Applegate plays his wife Debbie.

By the way ... if you are one of the three people left in the world that hasn't seen the original Chevy Chase Vacation series rent these first (especially Christmas Vacation and Vegas Vacation). You don't have to see these to understand the sequel but it makes it funnier. Actually ... rent them again even if you've seen them in the past. They are timeless.

Rusty's sister Audrey (Lesie Mann) is married to Stone Crandall (Chris Hemsworth). Some of the funniest moments are at Stone's house when they stop there on the way to ... of course ... WALLY WORLD driving in their Tartan Prancer an over complicated Albanian SUV.

2. DADDY'S HOME Another sequel movie with Mark Wahlberg (Dusty Mayron) and Will Ferrell (Brad Whitaker). It follows the original movie that ended with the two of them create a system of co-dads where the two kids spend an equal amount of time at each fathers' house. 

Enter their two dads: Mel Gibson, the tough fighter pilot and John Lithgow, the soft hearted kiss-on- the-lips dad.

Will Ferrell again makes it all work. The guy cracks me up just looking at him.

3.ROCKY ... All of them! Of course this is
on my list every year because I NEVER get tired of any of them. There is so much debate about which one is the best. I frankly don't care because I watch them in order and love every second.

When you finish Rocky ... try Creed 1 and 2. They are just as good.

ADRIAN!

5. DIE HARD. Doesn't have to be Christmas to watch these. Bruce Willis is another timeless hero whether he's got hair, a toupee or bald ... he is one tough character.

Yippee ki-yay .....

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Part Four: A Week and A Day (Pain, Pain, Go Away)



My dad, Sammy used to have these wonderful Yogi Berra expressions when he'd give his views on the world. For those of you who might not remember Yogi (or weren't born before the Middle Ages), he was the colorful catcher of the NY Yankees back in the day who coined expressions like "deja vu all over again" and "it ain't over 'til its over" and "when you get to a fork in the road ... take it". 

When Sammy was proud of something he did, he would say, "You know what? I'm proud of me!" Like Yogi, Sammy didn't say it to be funny.

A week ago I was PROUD of ME. I got through surgery, sailed through my hospital stay, did my treatments with the ice, compression, stockings, walker, PT and was ready to move on. I bragged to Debbie that I was a great patient, low maintenance, no whining ... after all .. I've been through this before. How many surgeries? 12? Heck ... I got this!

That lasted about two days.

It's been a week and a day and it feels like a LIFETIME. Pain is still there in my hip, I whine every morning and every evening when I get up and down. I hate PT even though it consists of bending your toes up and raising your knee and really hard stuff like that. 

I just want to go to Disney World. (That picture says it all).

Okay okay .... I'm better now. Whew! Just had to get it out. Just watched the movie Best of Enemies and I was crying like a baby. I was pathetic. If you haven't seen it ... you really should.

I'm sure you won't bawl your eyes out like me ... but at this stage I cry when I watch the evening news. (Of course ... there's a lot to cry about on the evening news).

Time for my meds.


Saturday, June 15, 2019

Part Three: Hip, Hip, Hooray

Home sweet home!

It was SO nice actually sleeping in my own bed (even though my house is unrecognizable with the tons of medical equipment everywhere). Lots to learn when you go through this procedure.

I listened to an interview with Alec Baldwin after he had his hip replaced. He basically said, "You have pain before surgery, then you have pain after surgery and then you have pain in rehab ... basically its a smorgasbord of pain."

I'm in the smorg' part of the smorgasbord.

So here's what they give you at home to help ...

1. A Suck-In Thing (scientific term). This you use 10 times an hour until your lungs clear or you pass out.

The purpose is to prevent pneumonia or respiratory infections (I guess) after surgery. The object is to take slow breaths and fill your lungs while you keep the little blue ball floating in the middle of the handle.

Gives new meaning to "This blue ball thing really SUCKS."

2. Cooling Machine.  This is used to continually ice the surgical site to prevent swelling and reduce pain.

It looks like a holster attached to a loud machine that circulates ice cold water.

Debbie wanted to save money on this one so I think ours came from 7-Eleven and twice a day a blue Slurpee drips out into my lap.



3. Support Hose. A real fashion statement..

To prevent blood clots and swelling, these support stockings are worn for 16 hours a day. One size and one color. No way in hell I could get these on or I'd bust open my sutures, so Debbie has to do this every day.

Yes, to get her to do it, I have to promise I'll do whatever she wants for the rest of my life. Typically, Debbie doesn't curse ... but lately she is speaking in tongues and can now move her head 360 degrees.

4. Compression cuffs. Also used to prevent clots and reduce swelling, these strap-ons squeeze your calves every few seconds and cut off the circulation to your feet. I'm sure that's a good thing but I don't think that Debbie understands how to use them.

I caught her last night trying to strap them around my throat.

5. The Grabber. My favorite!

This is a tool that picks up stuff that you can't reach and keeps you from bending over. I love to pinch Debbie when she walks by.

Funny thing ... the night I took this picture was the same night she got confused about the compression cuff around my throat.

6. The Walker. Luckily we had two of these that we used as props for my SAMMY book signing.

How depressing that I have finally BECOME my Dad.

.... oh well ... beats the alternative (becoming my MOTHER!)

All is good ... MANY THANKS TO ALL MY WELL WISHERS. LOVE YOU GUYS.

Friday, June 14, 2019

Part Two: Hip at Home

On the night of my hip replacement surgery, I should have slept for hours. After all, I had been awake for about ten hours and asleep for only two, Debbie was falling asleep in her chair next to me. 

I told her to go home and get some rest.

The pain killers I was getting could have killed an elephant  but couldn't put me to sleep. The night nurse told me her life story, which should have also worked. I even put on the most boring Hallmark movie I could find ... nothing.

Wide awake.

Anesthesia must have played havoc with my body. In the morning I was finally ready to go to sleep. But ironically, it was to be the the busiest morning yet.

I had visitors all morning who I dubbed the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, Future, Back to the Future (Part 1, 2 and 3) ... first came the Lab tech to draw blood, then came the Ortho Resident  who gave me instructions  about the care and handling of my hip, then came the Home Health person who told me about the care and handling of my hip then came the physical therapist who WANTED to handle my hip then came the nurse practitioner who told me about the care and handling of my hip then came the lab tech (a different one) to draw blood ... who didn't believe me when I said that blood had just been drawn.

FINALLY ... the transport lady picked me up and brought me downstairs. Debbie drove me home.

NEXT UP: Part 3: Hip, Hip, Hooray

The Old Man, Hobble Around, Drug Assisted Hip Replacement BLUES

When you're old you're automatically un-hip. Right? You know this because your kids tell you, your wife tells you and ... at some point ... your HIP tells you. My hip was the last to know. But when it got the word, it was PAINFUL.

So ... a new adventure in hip replacement was coming sooner than I expected. Some of you may have already had this special experience. For those who haven't ... here is your guide to "The Old Man, Hobble Around, Drug Assisted Hip Replacement BLUES (sung in the key of F)

The happy guy in the space hat with his thumbs up is me ... looking forward to getting a NEW PAIN FREE HIP and totally unaware of the pain that followed. How could I know? Everyone I talked to said "Oh wait until you have a hip replacement. No more pain ... you will love it".   

I'm still waiting.

Surgery was Tuesday. I had a great doctor. He must have been really excited about seeing me that morning at TGH because he requested that I arrive at 5:00 AM. Those who know me know I hate to get up early (especially Ray Smith who wants me to go fishing with him at that hour ... you can't tell me that fish HAVE to eat then) and will be shocked to know that I arrived there with Debbie right on time.

By the way ... surgery was scheduled for 10:30 (of course).

I was handed the usual 300 printed labels with my name and birthday. I carried them to each place I landed ... nursing stations, lab, surgery. I've been through this at least a dozen times on hospital visits but never quite understood what they were used for and why each person I met STILL asked me for my name and birthday.

Fast forward to surgery. I won't bore you with the gory details because ... well ... I was asleep. The important part was I WOKE UP! Had a great funny nurse who woke me up in Recovery and remembered me from another surgery and had become a reader of my blog. I love meeting my readers ... all six of them!

They took me up to my room, gave me a cool, yellow blanket with matching socks and strapped on these interesting compression leg things that pump and keep you from having blood clots.

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO: Hip at Home

(for now ... gotta get my sleep)


Sunday, March 10, 2019

Colonel Condo


This weekend, we are staying at our sweet little condo in Pass a Grille. Gorgeous day, clear water, not a care in the world ... we start on a walk to the Sea Horse for breakfast when all of a sudden ...

"Hellllooooo ..." The voice that instantly creates a dark cloud cover over the beach. There she was standing there with a baseball cap covering (let's see what color hair is it this week) blonde, I think. Last month was bright red, then black and even blue once.

I wanted to say, "Helloooo NEWMAN." But instead we exchanged pleasantries with Colonel Condo herself. Debbie was much nicer than me (not a big surprise). "Hi (name deleted to protect ... us) I didn't recognize you ... sorry ... your hair color is different."

"Blonde this month. Hahaha keeps my husband interested, you know?"

"Pretty day huh?" Debbie said.

"Oh yes it is." She paused and looked at me. "Glad I ran into you. You know that problem we've had in 205 with the water leak ... coming from your stack ... we have to fix that."

I jumped in. "You mean the air conditioning unit that you said was our fault because our pipes were dripping downstairs?" She glared over her sunglasses. "Remember our air conditioning guy came out a month ago and looked at the whole unit and said there is no way it was ours."

"I know I know,"She said. "I'm not pointing fingers."

"Really? You just said it was coming from our stack."

"Oh no. I am just saying its gotta be fixed. 205 is driving me crazy."

"Well maybe you should hire a contractor to check out the whole stack."

She just rolled her eyes and continued to talk to Debbie. "It's just one thing after another. You guys are fine. It's the old lady in 205 that will be gone soon thank God. Nursing home."

I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to cut this short. "Well we gotta run ... breakfast is calling"

"Okay! See you soon." To Debbie, "By the way we had to move your chairs back that you moved around the pool area."

I had so many comebacks ... but I was quiet (because Debbie was squeezing the blood out of my arm.)

By the way, as we were talking, this neighbor walks by. No one questions him about anything. Go and figure.
   

Friday, January 4, 2019

That’s What She Said

This past weekend, I made a casual remark to Debbie. I thought it was something like, “Honey, what do you think we should do about breakfast?”(Debbie heard it differently. She thought I said ... “Hey, get me breakfast, woman!”)

So she replied ... “Really? What am I ...  your breakfast bitch?”

“No ... I didn’t mean that you were ... or you had to ...” I stammered stupidly.

“Well if you find a breakfast bitch, send her to me.”

After groveling for a while longer, explaining that I would NEVER say something so callous. I had a great idea for a new business. Uber had created Uber Eats ... they pick up meals at select restaurants.

So ... what about creating Uber Bitch? For men and women.

Just think about it. You’d click on the app and order your Uber Bitch to make breakfast or pick up your dry cleaning or get you a beer or take the kids to soccer practice, or make excuses when you have to cancel appointments.

So I asked Deb. “Hey what do you think about Uber Bitch as a business line?”

She just stared at me and said after a few cold minutes ... “I might just create Uber Husband!” (Actually, I thought she said, “How about Uber Pool Boy? Much less stress and easier to use. “). 

Talking To Strangers ... and other "stranger" things

I am a huge Malcolm Gladwell fan. Hoping there are those among my readers who are too. His latest book, Talking to Strangers , is truly...