Leave Me Alone!

I can always tell when I get up on the wrong side of the Memory Foam and this weekend was no exception.


I woke up wanting to be left alone.

I was loaded with an extra dose of PMS infused snark and nobody need bother me. I showered and put on my rebel outfit (no bra) and left for the coffee shop. Any guy who stared down my nipples I wanted to flip off and it felt good.

I’m at one of those nasty crossroads in my life when everyone either pisses me off on a regular basis, or I just want to hate but can’t because they are too damn good looking.

This weekend was not the weekend to get a call from my “potato-salad- eating- spray- on nylons- in- a- can- skin- tag- infested- hair- on- my- face ex-mother-in-law” either.


I want to be left alone.

The last time I saw Lillian, I was privy to overhear her wicked remarks through a closed door after paying $900 to fly her alcoholic ass to darken my doorway in the first place...then try making a beautiful pancake breakfast for her the next day, complete with a light dusting of powdered sugar, strawberry’s, a perfect cheese omelet with an orange garnish while smiling.

I deserved a damn Oscar.

I sort of regret the spit thing though.

When I feel like this I know I need to depart town and swiftly. "I need to get away" I say. My friend curls her lip and says… “OMG…. you just got back from NYC…!!!

“That was work” I snap as I stir my giant mug of coffee shop tea. Bagged crap tea. I own a tea company and I drink others junk. Whats up with this? I stair into my mug...this is like drinking wine from a box and calling it a wine collection. Bagged tea is dust from the floor. I saw the film so it must be true.

I am pissed about tea today.

I know what I need to do. The ocean. Now. I need to load my car and drive 3 hours due East until I see water and old men in ass floss. I need 12 Zone Bars, Diet Coke, my laptop, yoga clothes, i-pod and scads of Kleenex.

Crying. There will be tons of it..

It happens at any moment these days and for no apparent reason.....or when I am feeling sorry for myself. I cry while walking, eating, reading in public, on fountains ledges, on airplanes, in car ramps, at Target, the vet, doing laundry, yoga, writing, driving (real bad there) while peeing (maybe it’s the water sound that triggers it) and at the dentist while watching the fish in the scummy lobby fish tank next to a pile of Lego's.

I cried last week on a subway in NYC, from Grand Centeral to Columbia station.... and was horrified to see some guy is sketching me. He puts his hand up when he discovers he is caught and says “Please, continue, you are beautiful….”

I will no doubt run into this sketch of me crying as a astounding watercolor when I am 50, hanging In some art gallery in Manhattan entitled “Sybil Rides the Subway.” It will win scads of awards and a postage stamp will be created after me in honor of all pre-menopausal 40 year old women suffering hormonal shifts world wide.

I will then try to prove it was me in the picture, and how I deserve some of the money. By then I will have undergone another one of my transformations and nobody will believe it is me because I will probably have hacked my hair short or dyed it black.

I love to cry in hotels best because nobody knows me, and I can get it all out.. and when I pay $300+ a night I can do what I damn well please. I cried last week when I heard the girl in the room next to mine, screaming with body smacking pleasure with cocoa -the- pool boytoy, shrieking and yelling.." hurt me-yes-there-oh Gawd-don’t stop..oh….. God….. I’m coming-yes-oh gawwwwd…spank ..yeessssss, yessss…yessssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I want this. I hate her.

As fate will have it, I ran into her all weekend in the elevator. She has great shoes and smells good. By night three I wanted to crash through the damn sheet rock and watch what the hell she does to get this sort of hot and sticky consideration.

I cried at Rockefeller Center, fifth Ave and at The Gap, sat in bed later in my underwear and socks wallowing in self pity while eating a bowl of cold chicken noodle soup from the 24 hour deli next door. I watched FOX News and cried, drank wine and cried, Did 100 sit-ups and cried, until the pleasure couple next to me begin to bang on my wall to shut up already.

Apparently I was disrupting them with my sobbing and honking.

Never mind that I may be in the midst of a violent gang rape; although you may not hear me complaining about this after the through-the-wall-foreplay I was so cruelly made subject to all weekend, or I could have been drowning in the bathtub.

Noisily.

I bang back and start to moan and rock the headboard in simulated raw sex. They suck.

I smiled and went to bed.

I will get over my sobbing sessions, I will change my hair, I will change my life, goals, outlook, and decorating styles a zillion times I am sure….but for now people, just leave me alone.

Need I say more?

My daughters Mag shoot....untouched.

Artisans Press makes a guest appearance on SIRIUS SATELLITE RADIO in NYC this Wednesday!

www.sirius.com channel 102, Wednesday at 11,1,6,8,10 pm

Click "listen online" link for free trial

OK kids, I'm excited here. I got a last minute call from Judith Regan's producer at Sirius Radio asking me to come to NYC to be a guest on her show in less than 48 hours.

It all began when a dear friend and amazing musician (http://www.alicemarie.net/) gave Candace Bushnell (Sex and the City author) some of my tea after being on her show last month. I followed up with another larger box. It was somehow passed along through the studio with my marketing packet. (Here is where "opportuni-tea and preparedness" meet-up)

After accepting, and promptly screaming once I hung up, I grabbed my Banana Republic card and flew off to buy this blue top, skinny jeans and much to expensive shoes. She makes a comment about this on the show....listen to find out.

I also had the opportunity to give her some information on my book in the works: "Hell on Hellz; A Fempreneures Guide to Finding Her Business G-Spot". She laughed and asked who was publishing it. I told her "nobody...yet"

Judith is the queen of book publishing owning a chunk of Harper Collings (Regan TM) She just wrote OJ's Book "If I Did It" along with plopping Howard Stern and Rush Limbough on the map. She is an amazing woman who pulls no punches. Plus she has really beautiful hair. (We talked about this on air as well..lol)

Her television ventures have included hosting a talk show on the Fox News Channel and producing for A&E, VH1, CBS, Lifetime, and NBC.

Only 12 Million listeners...ah but no pressure, right??

Free three day pass below, so sign up the day of and enjoy the stations all week... No credit card needed.Listen on your computer free. Women and business, tea and fun!


GET A FREE # DAY PASS RIGHT HERE!Click here: SIRIUS Player - Get A 3-Day Pass

Judith Regan

Judith Regan is the founder and CEO of REGAN, a division of HarperCollins Publishers. REGAN is a multimedia company engaged in the production and development of books, television, film, Internet and radio content. Known for her innovative, bold, creative and risk-taking style, Regan has published hundreds of best-selling and award-winning authors, including Wally Lamb, Gregory Maguire, Michael Moore, General Tommy Franks, Dr. Barry Sears, Mario Puzo, Nicole Richie, Neil Strauss, Dita Von Teese, Catherine Crier, Ralph Nader, Jess Walter, Bernie Mac, Sean Hannity, Howard Stern, Eminem, Beyoncé, The Rock, Rachel Ashwell, Kelly Wearstler, and many others. The mother of two children,

I Remember Now Why I left Minnesota

Call it gloating, evil, or just a little bit of validation; but every morning I sit at my desk in sunny North Carolina, coffee in hand, toss open the window (yes, in February) and let the 69 degree breeze sweep across my desk fluttering it's papers ever so lightly. I sit back and sip...and smile as I log onto the Minneapolis Star-Tribune newspaper to gleefully read the temperatures and snow fall predictions.

The main headline this morning read:

Chaska man found frozen to the pavement dies

"A man who was found early Saturday partly frozen to the pavement on the side of a road in Chaska died Sunday, the day he turned 19 years old."

OK people. WTF? I mean he fell, hit his head and was sporting a body core temperature of 77 degrees within 20 minutes. That's damn cold people.

Minnesota is beautifully breathtaking with blue lakes for every three city blocks if you were to spread them out. Each with shops, art galleries, cafes, coffee shops and theaters sprinkled around their shores. Brightly colored sail boats glide by the dozens on the blue glittering water in the sunshine.

But Minnesota in winter, is cold. Colder than any cold you will have ever dared to breathe in....47 below windchill is nothing. If you want to kill someone, push them outside, lock the door and wait ten minutes.

I remember a childhood past-time of throwing a pan of boiling water off the deck to watch it never hit the ground, but rather produce a huge steam cloud that hovered for hours.

But don't let that fool you.

People are always surprised to know how HOT it gets in the summer. The most miserable HUMID heat (think 10,000+ lakes here) you will ever feel. You cannot breath, and you may as well forget about your hair. I walked around looking like a drown rat for 38 summers. (May explain why I only got asked out between October and May.)

If you have a yeast infection or are largely pregnant over the summer....you would rather pull your upper lip over your head while blowing your leg off with a hand grenade. Trust me. I have been there. Swollen ankles and fits of screaming are the norm.

If your water breaks in summer you will not notice.

If it breaks in the winter it will freeze your legs together at the knees. You will have to blow-dry them apart.

Growing up with my "thrifty" set of evangelical zealot parents was no treat in a hot Minnesota summer either. My brother and I suffered for Jesus with no air conditioning. Only a window AC in our parents room.

Apparently God liked them better.

Meanwhile we were stuck to our sheets in a pool of sweat with a fan 2 centimeters from our head.

I lost my bangs that way once.

On the worst nights we retreated to the basement floor on top of a sleeping bag sporting sayings like "Groovy" and "Neat". There was nothing groovy or neat about it.

Add 3 foot mosquito's (state bird) to the mix and you will find childhood photos of me, stringy blond hair and attractive pink dots of Calamine Lotion all over my limbs until I was about fifteen.

After that it was better to itch than kiss Terry Gibbons on the docks at Lake Nokomis smelling like a pharmacy.

There are other perks of moving from Minnesota. The obvious being the absence of my mother-in-law. The woman who has party's in her garage with a keg, KFC, and a space heater while wearing spray on nylons, a skirt and a parka. Also not plugging in my car at night, "shoveling out", or paying heat bills that surpassed my mortgage payments.

Although some days I admittedly miss the familiarity of some old haunts, or the simple pleasure of walking only blocks (In the city yet) to see a real blue crystal lake, devouring a good book on it's shore, floating on a raft, or watching the sunset.

Tomorrow will be in the 60's here, with the signs of spring surrounding me two months before what I am used too. The daffodils are popping their tiny yellow faces as I walk this warm evening to the end of my street, to the man made FAKE lake.

I pause to watch the three under-lit fountains spraying water high into the moonlight, leaning over the little wooden bridge.

Closing my eyes at the sound of falling water ........it can still take me back.

Jennifer Mee tormented by hiccups, now by media

Brittany Spears shaves her head.

Ok, I work hard all day to get media attention for my PR clients.

Hours of hard work, press release writing, send-outs, tweaking, editing, making contacts, calling, follow-ups, writing, hounding editors, TV and radio station pitches....

Little did I know it didn't have to be so hard. All I had to do was learn the art of an "Irritainment" (annoying entertainment spectacles we can't stop watching)

A girl gets a bad case of the hic-ups and lands her chunky ass on the Today Show, Ellen Degerenes, and apparently is now being sought after from all four corners of the world. She and her mother were flown first class to NYC, put up in a five star hotel for 5 days, because she has the hiccups.

Brittany shaves her head on You-Tube. Anna has five potential fathers for her baby (who clearly only looks like one of them. I bet my right arm on the photog with the baby-blues. The Lawyer has ladies hands, the others are old)

Hugh Grant retires and un-retires.

Tom Cruise finally gets someone knocked up and Donald Trump calls Rosie a fat pig.

Each is all over the media. Careers sky-rocket. Free.

Ok, so nobody called me to be on TV when I was constipated for 10 days and I'm a little miffed about it.I mean think about it. TEN DAYS!! I weigh 117. Ten days of poop weighs half of that.

The doctors I worked with took an X-ray to shut me up after complaining of stomach "pains" for 2 weeks while moaning and groaning around the office. All five doc's doubled over laughing when they saw the film, handing me a roll of toilet paper and a can of air freshener. I was mortified.

Did you see the media running headlines "Suburban woman's colon blocked to clavicle; lives to tell about it"

Can you see me on Regis & Kelly, perched uncomfortably sideways on a stool wearing elastic pants while Regis flashes my amazing X-ray on the screen behind him, audience shrieking, covering their face in horror? NO. What.... my medical event isn't news worthy enough?

Or how about the time I was passing blood clots the size of canned hams with a 21 day long period.

No calls. Notta.

Or the unexplained low grade fever I had for seven years? No joke. Seriously. 99.9.

Seven freakin years.

Forget submitting to editors, writing flawless media pitches for hours over cups of cold coffee...banging away until three in the morning..becoming a "mouse potato".

I'll tell my clients to do something gross abnormal or shocking. Quick and cheap.