ALARM CLOCKS THAT HAVE BEEN PURCHASED FOR MY BOSS: A SERIO-COMEDY IN SIX PARTS

1. The designer bought a little analog travel alarm clock. Immediately rejected. Too small. Not digital.
2. I bought this Philipe Starke alarm clock/radio/barometer. He couldn't figure out how to set it.
3. I went to Pottery Barn and bought a big oversized digital alarm clock. It was too dark. He complained that he couldn't see the numbers.
4. I went to a fancy audio store near his apartment and bought the nicest clock they had. It has seriously killer sound. He couldn't figure out how to set it AND the numbers were too small.
5. Feeling desperate, I called the L.A. assistant for the brand and serial number of the clocks he uses in B. Hills. At last he seemed contented, until one alarm went off in the middle of the night, he couldn't turn it off and when he unplugged it, it continued to sound due to battery backup. Eventually he pried the batteries out and threw them against the wall, undoubtedly pretending the wall was my face.
   
6. Finally, I purchased this timex alarm clock. No radio, no dual-alarm setting. Just alarm, clock, and an on-off switch on the side. He seems to like it...for now.

Muah ha ha ha ha!

TOO BAD ABOUT JOHN RITTER BEING DEAD

My boss's publicist called me today because another one of her clients, a seriously b-list babe named Kim Something, is moving to NYC and needs an assistant. She was wondering if I knew anybody...

I suggested Law, my friend and co-writer of my genius, undoubtedly soon-to-be-produced television pilot. He is organized, enthusiastic and broke. Plus, he has seen me in the throws of my professional challenges (Oh no! Boss lost the AC adapter to his favorite UK-purchased personal DVD player. Whatever am I to do?! To Radio Shack, Cabbie! On the double!) so he knows what to expect.

To my suggestion the publicist responded:
"Is he gay?"

Implication: Not gay? Not interested. And poor Law is married. To a woman.

What is this, some kind of reverse homophobia? Affirmative Action for the light-footed among us? Is a homo more equipped to book a table than a straight dude? Better at buying sliced turkey or light bulbs?

The gays have been taking jobs from straight women for years now: Interior decorator, makeup artist, aerobics instructor, arm candy. Now they are taking jobs from straight men? When will it stop? Soon we non-queers will be made irrelevant!

And then I realized...what we had on our hands was the makings for a fantastic new sitcom.

20-something single male pretends to be gay so he can work his dream job--assistant to obscure TV actress! Hijinks ensue when he has to keep his over-active love life a secret from his boss---quite possibly the only woman he really loves!!

I knew that prejudice had it's benefits.

A LOS ANGELES WEDDING

A personal assistant for a legitimately famous person should be able to get herself to a wedding without incident.

A personal assistant, organized as she must be to keep track of rehearsals and travel plans and poker games and Regis and Kelly appearances, in order to remember bologna-yes/lamb-no, that the light bulb next to the bed needs replacing, that Thursday is boss's sister's birthday, any personal assistant worth her swag would be able to bring a wedding invitation into the cab meant to carry her to the event. She would realize that brides say a lot of things in the course of planning a wedding. She would know that just because a bride says, "I am really mellow about the whole thing", or "It will be at the Beverly Hills Hotel", that doesn't mean it's true. A personal assistant knows this.

She leaves the hotel way ahead of time, our intrepid personal assistant, not because she may show up at the Beverly Hills Hotel only to discover that they have no record of the wedding in question, because she would know by checking the invitation in her hand that the Beverly Hills Hotel is not her destination. She would leave the hotel way ahead of time, looking effortlessly chic, just in case the wedding venue is miles and miles up a hill with few signs and no lights. She would never feel relieved when another guest waves down the cab from her car because she is also lost and late. Our P.A would never pay the cabbie and jump in the car with her boyfriend and this stranger so that she would not be the last to arrive at the event. She would have been there for many minutes before the ceremony began, of course. She would have had time for a drink. And a fresh coat of lipstick in the mirror of the flower-strewn powder room.

A hermit, maybe, a telemarketer might huff up the last few feet to the top of the hill just in time to see the windswept bride say "I do."

Not a personal assistant for a lauded movie actor. That would be ridiculous.