Lest you think I'm the only writer to bitch about her book tour and if, or whether, she'll ever get noticed by The New York Times, here is Anne Lamott.

"I was in New York for four or five days, and waited to see if I would get reviewed by the Times. This is my ninth book and I have never gotten a daily review in the Times -- not that I am bitter. Nope, nope, nothing could be further from the truth. It's just that I secretly believe that if Michiko Kakutani likes your work, it means you are a real writer, and you will be happy and and wealthy and stable forever. The one little problem with Michiko, though, is that if she doesn't like your book, she will kill you -- cut your head off with a surgical knife, and play hacky-sack with it until she grows bored. Then, maybe in the last paragraph, she'll pour acid on it....She's like the great and glorious Wizard of Oz, and most writers feel terrorized by her. It does not seem to bring them solace when I remind them that she is going to get a bad seat in heaven. She will probably have to sit in the Mean People's Room, with Paul Wolfowitz, and Ann Coulter, and they'll mostly have to live on aerosol cheese products and lavender Necco wafers."

When I read this, part of me wanted to laugh and shout "Amen," while the rest of me wanted to mutter, "Can it, sister, at least you GOT reviewed by the Times, even if it wasn't by Michiko." But I took great solace from her piece because, reading between the lines, it seems that I'm not the only one who's had bad times dealing with the media.

Now, on to more important things. Could Dr. Hunky have looked any hotter on last night's ER? I love him when he's brooding. And bleeding.

Could the contestants on Survivor be any dumber? I laughed so hard I almost fell off the couch when Used Car Pornboy misspelled the word "road" in "road trip," and lost out on the Product Placement Vehicle Prize. At this point, I'm not even watching the show to be entertained, I'm watching it to allow for greater appreciation of THE AMAZING RACE, which is the best, smartest, most entertaining reality show on TV (and where I'd bet that every single contestant could spell not only "road" but "highway.")

Last but not least, all of my friends recommended The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy, which is written by a very frank and funny woman who just happens to be a former Playboy Playmate married to a Los Angeles recording-company executive. The book's mostly great, but every once in a while you'll be vividly reminded that you're not talking to your girlfriends, but to a former Playboy Playmate married to a Los Angeles recording-company executive....as when she admits that the maternity outfit she liked best was a zippered black velvet catsuit. Yowza.