You know that your Jewish mother is pissed at you when she hasn't called in more than a week. Huh. You'd think that when your daughter is in recovery from Cancer, whatever I did—which is undoubtedly something to do with money—she'd be curious about her daughter's health. Surprisingly, during this ordeal, dad—from whom I inherit my horrid lack of patience and ability to say whatever is on my mind—has been the more tolerant and patient of the duo. I can only attribute this to the fact that he too had cancer recently. Whereas mom, perfect mom, has never been sick for a day in her life. Nor has she ever been single, lived alone, been alone or struggled in any way when it comes to her appearance.

I am however excited to report that a box of the "Wasted" issue of Heeb magazine is being shipped to me soon. I have a fairly large feature story about "Benzos and Breast Cancer." Finally, a national magazine. I seriously hope a lit agent or someone worthy of my time reads it, loves it and wants to pay me to do something. Sigh. I need to stop drinking I think. It really gets me down the next day.