My take on the Tom Perrotta-pisses-off-Pillsbury saga: it shouldn't have been goldfish on the cover of LITTLE CHILDREN in the first place.

Nuh-uh. As any hard-charging professional woman turned full-time overachieving mama can tell you, the goldfish, they are made with partially hydrogenated oils. And we'd rather feed our kids strychnine than let anything partially hydrogenated pass their little lips.

Yes, for us super-mockable mommies -- the kind Perrotta satirizes so adroitly -- it's all about the organic Annie's Cheddar Bunnies.

Last night was Mom's Night Out, and I'd been enjoying several adult beverages when one of my friends told me that Gwyneth Paltrow named her daughter Apple.

I was all, "No way!" And she was all, "It's true!" And I was all, "You're wasted!" And she was like, "No, you are!" And then one of the cast members from "The Real World" showed up at the restaurant, trailed by a camera crew and a boom microphone, and we got off the topic of little Fruit Basket and debated whether it would be pathetic for us to send over a shot. ("Tell him it's from the lactating ladies at Table Twelve!")


That ain't right.

No blogging for a few days. I'm going to New York where, among other things, I'm having a new author photo taken.

I am bizarrely excited about this. It's like I'm going to Glamour Shots!

Except there's a part of me that wants to walk into the photo studio saying "I brought a few props," and plop down a bag full of sex toys, just to see the look on the photographer's face after I'd pull out a ball gag and innocently say, "You DO know what my book is about, right?"