- Supremely skilled, deeply compassionate, cucumber-cool Andrei Rebarber, Daniel Saltzman and Samuel Bender are the obstetricians who pulled me through a harrowing high-risk pregnancy. I'd like to take this moment to declare my undying love for these medical miracle workers and to offer a brief apology.
"Gentlemen, as you may be aware, the birth process is often a touch uncomfortable in an I'm-being-torn-limb-from-limb-by-a-horde-of-rabid-wildebeasts-while-someone-sets-all-of-my-internal-organs-on-fire-and-stomps-up-and-down-on-my-tummy kind of way. It is possible that in the course of my 22-hour labor I may have inadvertently referred to one or more of you as a motherf***ing, gravy-sucking weasel. I see now that this was an unfortunate choice of words to use when requesting an epidural, and I am deeply sorry. It is further possible that you might have been bitten, kicked, pummeled or clawed at in a manner that can best be described as 'satanic.' Again, I am beyond sorry. Finally, rest assured that I now fully understand that you were not in any position to prescribe heroin even if it were called for, and that any comments I might have made with regard to your manhood, your immediate family or your innate sense of common decency were just terribly, terribly wrong."
- Some desire DiCaprio, others crave Clooney, I have a little thing for Desmond Tutu, or as I like to call him, Archbishop McDreamy. What can I tell you? I've always been a sucker for integrity and twinkly eyes, which is why I'd also like to send a quick shout-out to Paul Newman and Walter Cronkite.
- I never thought of myself as a particularly vain person. In fact, I sort of prided myself on having a decidedly undiva-like attitude. But all that went out the window when I realized my face had to appear in this magazine every month. It turns out I'm ridiculously insecure and once lost an entire night's sleep worrying that my wrists looked puffy. Enter John Ritter. Not the guy from Three's Company. No, the John Ritter I love illustrates this column. Here's a tip. If you're ever going to be viewed by millions of people on a regular basis, forget hair, makeup and the South Beach diet—get yourself a man who sees grace where you can see only crow's-feet.