2009 - THE TAKEAWAY

This time of year, TV programs and newspapers try to tidily package a montage of images encompassing the important things that occurred in the twelve months prior. The Year in News. The Year in Music. The Year in Movies. The Year in Politics. The Year in Sports. The Year in Famous Dead People. Here now, I offer my own personal highlight reel of things I learned, discovered or rediscovered in 2009.

Spinach is highly edible, especially when combined with feta cheese.

I never thought I could care any less about golf or Tiger Woods and am surprised (and dismayed) to learn that, yes, yes I could care even less about golf and Tiger Woods.

I'm really good at changing diapers. I have no fear.

Whaddado, Everybody! It's a great day for America. Craig Ferguson is all things awesome. He's sublimely silly and incredibly intelligent, wordy and worldly. Not bad for a high-school dropout seventeen years sober. And I love me some puppets singing karaoke.

Sarah Palin is eleven big steps backwards for the women in this country. Brainfreeze is cumulative.

Florida is a humid, festering hellpit. Giant pythons in the Everglades. Alligators. And an abundance of stupid. I'll give the people I care about in Florida 1o days to pack their stuff and head north. Then please let it crack off at the Georgia state line and drift out to sea.

I like waking up early -- not the rushing around, hurrying to make a train or a plane or a meeting waking up... but the waking up after a good night's sleep, making coffee and tackling half of the day's to-do list before Matt Lauer calls it a day. I will become a morning person. I will.

Everyone who works, writes, hosts and produces for Entertainment Tonight, The Insider, Access Hollywood, Extra and E! News should break out in massive incurable hives.

You never really know what goes on behind the closed doors of someone's home. You never really know how someone's marriage works. And, usually, you don't ever really want to know.

When you make a conscious decision to temporarily curtail communication with people (for justified reasons) yet decide to resume communication two months later, if they don't even notice you'd cut off communication, it's not so much a slap in the face as proof your judgment is dead-on accurate.

I've found that people upon whom I wasted way too much time and energy in my attempt to be a devoted friend before giving up when the friendship proved a one-way street, I don't miss as much as I might have hoped. Sure, parting actually was sweet sorrow but if I don't miss their company much, the time wasted on them seems even more squandered.

Uncle Kracker is my trailer park crush.

There are flaky people who are flaky because they're self-absorbed narcissists in a universe which revolves only around them, everyone else be damned. And then there are flaky people who are flaky because they're unorganized and discombobulated and should tether their heads to their necks with those little mitten clips. Goal is to stop being the human embodiment of Head & Shoulders -- stop attracting flakes of the first type, while learning patience for those in category two.

The pain of a broken toe can be numbed through excessive consumption of alcohol.
The pain of a broken face can be quelled through the application of a bag of frozen corn niblets from Trader Joe's.
The pain of actually shopping in the Manhattan Trader Joe's can drive me to become homocidal.

I desperately miss walking miles along the Hudson River. It can't warm up soon enough.

I'm sorry I wasn't damaged enough to be worthy of your time or friendship. Somehow, I'm really
OK with that.

I make exceptional cookies and like to share them:
- 3/4 cup light brown sugar, 3/4 cup granulated sugar, one egg, 2 sticks of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Light.
- Mix together in large bowl.
- Slowly mix in 2 1/4 cups flour, 1 tbsn baking soda, 1 tbsn vanilla extract, 1/2 tsp salt.
- Now the add-ins. Go crazy. Ghiardelli Chocolate is the only acceptable chip. Semi-sweet is fine; milk chocolate is better (add in chopped hazelnuts); white chocolate is divine (add in walnuts and/or dried cranberries.)
- Bake for 15 minutes at 350.

Any movie seen at a drive-in theatre under a starry sky with friends while soaked in bug spray and eating food from the mom & pop concession stand is immeasurably better than any movie seen indoors, even if said movie is really horrible (this means you Transformers 2.)

To the people who invented the 15x magnifying mirror and Tweezerman products: I love and hate you.

I had the book I slaved over hit #15 on the New York Times Bestseller List. That doesn't suck. (Imagine how awesome it could have been if I wasn't on a short leash.)

I have a girl crush on Sandra Bullock. I want to do shots with her.

I provided free Christmas Eve entertainment for hundreds of Amtrak passengers waiting to board their train. I slid on wet floors inside Penn Station upon stepping off the escalator. You know what? It wasn't nearly as embarrassing as one would think. Granted, I caught myself (barely)and managed to stop the impromptu split by landing (hard) on my right knee. And that wasn't nearly as painful (even a week later) as one would think; it's much, much worse. Ow.

The Kardashians is the late Robert Kardashian's karma for helping O.J. Simpson walk.

I would throw myself in front of a bus, jump in front of a train, swim an ocean and bungee jump from the Chrysler Building for my best girls but reading the Twilight books and watching the movies proves real devotion.

If you really like someone, really enjoy their company... if they make you laugh, make you smile, bring out the best, the funniest, the most relaxed version of you... if they believe in you and make you feel good in their presence, make sure you tell them and spend time with them. Now. Don't be reminded that you never locked in a date to get together despite all your talk and planning while you're watching his casket being wheeled up the aisle through church pews.
R.I.P. Bill FitzGerald.

The only person who can write your autobiography is you. Anyone who attempts to tell your story without your permission will, at best, offer an unauthorized and factually incorrect biography. At worst, that person will offer a distorted and fictional retelling of your experience which humiliates you in front of others. After you excuse yourself to the ladies room to cry, get yourself together and continue your night out. Then cut that person off. Permanently.

Bad people win. Bad people are rewarded. Makes no sense but it's the way of the world.

My favorite show growing up was M*A*S*H. My favorite TV show as an adult, and of all-time, is The West Wing. A common thread (besides brilliant writing and acting) -- Alan Alda. Having finished his memoir, I like him even more than before. This is a good, good man.

Anyone whose opinion of me matters to me, is no one who would judge me. Anyone who would judge me, doesn't have an opinion that matters.

All news is part of the 'mainstream media' and all news organizations are slacking. Real journalism - be it television or print - is an endangered species. Yet, FoxNews can't take out full page ads and giant billboards declaring themselves the #1 cable news network and then turn around and claim they're NOT part of the mainstream media. They are. They're just the propaganda branch of the RNC. And that's okay. Keep doing what you're doing. Just admit you're neither fair, nor balanced, nor actual news.

My friends and family managed to blindside me by throwing me a surprise birthday party. I was shocked. And confused. And speechless. (Which is probably what stands out the most to those who know me.) But mostly, I was confused. I loved my 'Everything Extravaganza & Shower' even if they did make me wear paper goods on my head. Thing about surprise parties is you wander around the entire time feeling like a schmuck. But a much-loved schmuck who goes home with awesome door prizes. xoxo

All good evenings with the girls end at a Long Island diner.

Sometimes all you can do is listen when someone needs to talk, even when what they tell you is heartbreaking and life changing. That's the gig.

I wonder what my career trajectory might have looked like if, at any point in the past fifteen years or so, I actually had someone who could be considered a mentor.

Everyone thinks they have heart. Everyone thinks they have soul. Not true. To quote Cloris Leachman in Spanglish, "you could use genuine."

Gay marriage is a civil rights issue. Period.

I love pit bulls. They have a PR problem, just like the Doberman, Rottweiler and German Shepherd before them. Pit bulls are mutts and it all comes down to the people who raise them. No such thing as a bad dog, only bad owners. Our shelters are filled with pit bulls who need homes. Don't be turned off by the words 'pit bull.' They're big love sponges who just need strong owners and good training. And a really good belly rub.

If you haven't done anything to help me find work, then STFU. Any opinion you offer on what I should be doing has zero credibility.

I think the cupcake trend has jumped the shark.

You didn't break me. It sure wasn't for lack of trying, but you didn't break me.

After a long time, music is beginning to move me again. Loved the latest Uncle Kracker and Train albums and loved that double bill at Webster Hall. Loved seeing Kenny Chesney at Jones Beach, leaning up against the stage, standing six inches deep in bay water at high tide, splashing around in our Tevas.

This year I became a devoted viewer of How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory.
This year I renewed my love for Intervention and discovered a new fascination: Hoarders.
This year I saw the movies Rear Window, Vertigo and The Man Who Came To Dinner for the first time.
I teared up (more than once) watching the animated film UP.

My 'Plan A' (to win MegaMillions) is not working.

What a pleasure it was to work with a group of women - smart, focused, funny, get-it-done women - who created something out of nothing despite the hurdles thrown at them by the men they were forced to placate.

What a pleasure it was to be looked to for insight, advice, information, direction and opinions because my talent, my work and my knowledge was respected and appreciated. Institutional memory matters.

God Bless You, George Clooney.
God Bless You, Gerard Butler.
God Bless You, Daniel Craig.

I gave you the friendship you always wanted from me. You're welcome.

I want to go on a food roadtrip with Guy Fieri and Adam Richman.

I didn't feel a personal loss when Michael Jackson died. I can appreciate the sociological impact. I can appreciate his role in popular music. I can appreciate his talent and enjoy his greatest hits but in the end, his musical legacy had been trumped ten times over by his freakshowish personal life and behavior. It took his death to restore mass respect for his long-hidden talent. But the ghoulish feeding frenzy in the wake of his death -- from his family to his promoters to his doctors to his record label -- makes you wonder if killing off a pop star is a legitimate marketing plan being circulated in midtown boardrooms. The world might be richer for Michael Jackson's talent but too many people pocketed blood money.

Most of the time, doing nothing -- riding around in a car, wandering on a deserted boardwalk, sitting around poolside -- is the most fun you can have when you're with the right people.

Garage sales don't bring in much money but you can't beat the people-watching.

A little prettier, a little thinner, a lot dumber -- just imagine the career I would have had!

It's amazing the difference the presence of a dog can make in a home. My father's face lights up. My mother has someone absolutely devoted to her following her every move and whining when she leaves. Playfulness and goofiness adds to the laughter. Welcome to The Schreibmans, Miley.

I'm simply awed by my friends who manage to juggle marriage, motherhood, careers, homes, finances, PTA, little league, soccer games and in-laws with grace and humor (and a few f-bombs) even when their instinct is to pull each hair out strand by strand. Yes, it's worth it and you are stellar.

Facebook is a magnifying glass. Quite frankly, upon closer inspection, there are some 'friends' on Facebook who aren't as interesting, funny, nice or intelligent as they (or I) once thought they were.

I'm lucky to have my mother and father and brother.

The longer I live in New York City, the more I'm ready to leave New York City. My real friends are scattered across New York State and the country at large. I can't afford to live the life I want to live in Manhattan. I want closet space. And a real kitchen. And heat I control. And neighbors who aren't socially retarded rejects from a Seinfeld episode.

Turns out most of my closest friends are those who have known me the longest (20, even 30 years.) I just took the long way 'round to get back to this place.

I didn't mourn when Elvis died. Or Kurt Cobain. Or even Michael Jackson. But the loss of John Hughes was huge. He was the voice of MY generation.

I am obsessed with Fish Tacos. Wanna make them at home on the cheap? Grill mahi mahi or tilapia on your George Forman grill. Squeeze fresh lime juice on it as they cook. Place inside a flour tortilla and cover with spicy cole slaw. Oh, how to make the Trailer Park Spicy Cole Slaw? Buy a bag of the pre-packaged, shredded cabbage/cole slaw blend and mix it with Tostitos Southwestern Ranch dip (it's lighter than mayo and has the "kick" already in it.) Serve with Corona or Margarita.

The excitement I once felt walking into a radio station or record label or concert venue is long gone but that's the feeling I experienced each time I walked into the offices of Harper Collins.

I know you talk about me when I'm not there.

One blurry photo is interesting. Two blurry photos might be intentional art. Three blurry photos simply means you don't know how to use the shutter on your camera.

I haven't traveled enough this year and I don't feel like myself. As much as I've enjoyed mini-trips to Syracuse or The Catskills or Orlando, I need my passport stamped before I start to twitch. I need a roadtrip to places unknown. I need an adventure. I need to visit National Parks. I am at my most ME when I'm on the road, with a map, my camera and the radio.

From a certain angle, I might look like a tutor.

Is there anything sadder than someone using music industry funerals as a networking opportunities?

I am sick and tired of being told I am not a real American, I am not a patriot and I am rooting for our country to fail because I don't believe the same as other people. I'm a woman. I am a Jew. I am a New Yorker. I am college-educated. I am a liberal. I am a Democrat. If that makes me 'elitist' in your mind than you have one big-ass inferiority complex you need to deal with. New York is Real America. It was American enough to be attacked on 9/11, it should be American enough for you.

Being publicly mauled in front of 200 people doesn't suck. I just wish rock stars would grab a burger so they wouldn't have to attempt to eat my face.

It's an amazing thing to make dear friends later in life.

I'm a good friend and a good person. Aunt Ilene rocks.
I'm blessed to have friends who like me just as I am.
I am blessed to have the friends in my life who provide the oxygen I need to survive.
My cup runneth over.

2005 began as a terrific year and deteriorated into a really rough one for me.
2006 was horrific and humiliating and life-altering.
2007 was healthier but a bundle of confusion, a bit of a blur.
2008 was a beating but I had hope for 2009.
2009 was not as bad but not great. I've had some of the best times of my life in 2009 so I can't write it off entirely but I'm ready for it to be over.

For the first time in a long time, the light at the end of the long tunnel might not be an oncoming NJ Transit train.
I'm ready for 2010.
I'm ready to turn forty.
I'm ready for a fresh start.
I'm ready to begin a new year.
I'm ready to begin a new decade.


I wish you and yours all the health and happiness, friends and family, memories and milestones, love and laughter that 2009 brought me.
And I wish it for us all tenfold in 2010.
May our very best days of 2009 rival only the very worst days of 2010.
All tomorrows come from yesterdays.

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
For auld lang syne.