loriMy World and Welcome To It

Having been (according to my driver’s license) an adult for some time now, you would think I’d know not to speak to strangers. But that’s what I do. (At least I stopped going over to men in cars who yell “Come here! I want to show you something!”) I certainly hope my writing speaks to a lot of strangers. I never understand writers who toil over something then are content to shove it into a drawer to grow old gracefully or not. My writing begs to be enjoyed. Yeah, by editors and publishers but even more so from the guy or woman standing behind me in some check-out line. In fact, I secretly hope that whenever my stuff appeals to editors and publishers it’s really because when they’re on a break from being editors and publishers, they might be the guy or woman standing behind me in some check-out line. I’m fascinated by how much we all have in common with people with whom we have nothing in common.

Laughing IS Conceivable fits this bill plus goes a step further. This book is for people with whom I share not only the human condition but the infertility condition as well. Most of those folks, and there are a lot of ‘em, (about 7.3 million) aren’t lucky enough to have a decade of humor writing and performing tricks to schlep with them to each doctor’s appointment like I had. I’d like to offer them all some souvenirs via Laughing IS Conceivable to take with them from now on. And I thank Angelina Jolie and her twins and Nadya Suleman in California and her octuplets for bringing the subject of fertility treatments out of the closet and to a water cooler or dinner table near you. Suddenly there are hoards of people yearning to know more about these procedures either because they know someone going through them and are truly interested, or are simply curious… or just want to feel superior to 7.3 million strangers. It doesn’t really matter. I look at Laughing IS Conceivable as being for the guy or woman standing behind me at some check-out line- with or without fertility problems concealed under their shopping cart. Yes, the book is specifically about fertility treatments. But it’s mostly about finding humor in a place where there ain’t none.

About Me

I think I enjoy being an open book. It certainly cuts down on the blackmail demands. Even if I wanted to live a clandestine life, I couldn’t. See, I’m a yenta. I’m in everybody’s business and usually let friends, family and complete strangers into mine. (The last group is preferable: I can spill my guts and remain forever regret-free, knowing they’ll vanish and never reappear for a follow-up.) If I’m a decent writer, you should undoubtedly learn more about me from my writing than from my “About Me” page. (Also, don’t waste precious time seeking out my “Mission Statement”. Unless I, in some way, become involved with NASA or the CIA (perhaps they need a joke writer), I don’t feel entitled to have a mission let alone a statement about it.) Without further ado, I present to you… Me.

I’d rather watch football than shop. I’d rather watch the hair grow on my legs than shop. I love watching nearly all sports yet still haven’t figured out the intrigue of soccer. I’m addicted to massage and “Project Runway”. I wasn’t petrified to go sky-diving. No stand-up comic should be. I’m 5’3”. My shoe size is 6 ½. My bra size is considerably larger. I have triplets. I met my husband at a gay Chanukah party. The last two entries are not in chronological order. I only watch “Maury Povich” when it’s about baby mama drama which, lucky for me, is every day. Speaking of TV, I actively hunt for episodes of “Murder She Wrote” and “Columbo”. I love the “Odd Couple” and make Oscar Madison look like Monk. I like things tidy but have no interest in tidying things up. A difficult recipe to me is taking a large size Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese out of the freezer, putting it in the microwave and remembering to stir it after eight and a half minutes. I speak fluent Spanish and some French, in part, thanks to my degree from NYU which is still in its cylinder in my hall closet. I grew up in the suburbs of New York. I haven’t had a panic attack in four years. My hair is its natural color, whatever that may be. I suspect that I don’t believe in plastic surgery or I would have ditched my nose ages ago. I wear clothes that are wrinkled and stained and convince myself no one will notice. I’ve never been interested enough in my hair to have a “bad hair day”. My success in shoe buying is measured by how fast I can pick ‘em out, pay for them and get out of “Payless” with a right one and a left one. I’m a total baby. My children are infants but I take them to the playground so I can go on the slide. Every winter I have to make snow angels. Every autumn I have to have a candy apple. So, what else ya wanna know?

My Portfolio

  • Emotional Yachting

    Washington Post, October 10, 2005
    A Boat Full of Misery: The Theory of Support Groups

  • Having Bank Withdrawal

    Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, October 5, 1997
    Banks Grab Dollars But Display No Sense

  • Holiday Shopping For Those Who Want to Avoid Holiday Shopping

    Part 1,
    Part Two,
    Part Three

    The Philadelphia Inquirer, November 23, 1997
    Park! The Herald Angels Sing

  • Canned Laughter

    The Resident (5 editions in NYC), July 9, 1997

  • Where to GO in New York

    The Resident (5 editions in NYC), April 8, 1998 Behind Closed Doors

  • Topical Jokes

    Newsday (Long Island, NY), August 11 2005 & Oct. 6 2005