4. I don't wish to mark the one-week anniversary of your dachshund's hysterectomy. If Sparky needs her dressing changed twice a day, let that be your special secret.
5. Despite what they told us in junior high, I realize that getting pregnant isn't always easy and I sympathize more than you know. But there's an old saying, Lazy sperm does not cocktail-party chatter make. All right, so it's not an old saying—but I for one still plan to needlepoint it onto a pillow. Sit down with a close friend, a glass of merlot, a box of Kleenex, and be sad. Blurt it out to the guy serving crab puffs and you'll hate yourself in the morning.
6. And speaking of waiters—attention, restaurant personnel: Quit calling me Honey. I'm not your honey, I'm just a girl in need of a chicken salad on whole wheat toast and a side of fries.
7. I'd be willing to walk through fire for the man I love, but I am not willing to share a toothbrush. There will always be an extra in my medicine chest.
8. Stay out of my medicine chest.
9. You might think you know me well enough to pop by for an unannounced visit. But I need ten minutes to stuff everything I own into a closet and change from my pure-unadulterated- slob clothes into my "Can you believe how fabulous I look even when I'm just lying around?" clothes. Call first.
10. Love is a many splendored thing—don't let's cheapen it. The proper response to a publicist professing love is "Fabulous...because it looks as if I may need a kidney transplant. Why don't we get you tissue-typed."
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