I worked for her in her media division. She was no one’s idea of warm and fuzzy, but we got along well and dammit, she built an empire.

go away, skippy, and find another place to troll.

If the following four sentence reply was too “TL;DR” for you, then taking some Ritalin may be your best course of action.

My fabulous ob/gyn told me that an occasional glass of wine was fine, but to make sure I enjoyed it with a meal. He did tell me flat-out to stop drinking diet soda altogether.

Absolutely. My sister in law saw me drink a small glass of beer when I was 6 months along and suddenly the whole family was awash in “oh, she’s got a problem” gossip from the SIL. That was the last time I drank until the night I went into labor - on my due date. That one margarita was so delicious. My son is 25, 6'1"…

Clearly, the Ritalin has taken its’ toll on you. My “massive” rant was four sentences long. Good luck in rehab.

How about not using it because a cunt is a GOOD thing, not a bad one?

Could we not use the word “cunt” as a pejorative? Please? There are something like 750,000 words in the English language. Please find a better way of expressing your disdain. Thank you.

If this brouhaha results in Lara Spencer never being seen on tv again, then I approve.

Find the short film “Picture Paris”. Just do it. Try HBO. 29 minutes you will not regret.

I could not be prouder of this girl if she were my own. You go, Hilde.

I read an article, a long time ago, where Bruce referred to Bonnie as “one of (his) favorite redheads”. My fervent hope is they once spent a month in bed doing unspeakable things to each other. Or maybe that was me. Either way. Her new album is fucking wonderful.

That shot of her in the red dress was from a Harper’s Bazaar shoot, I think. She was good friends with the then-editor.

I was backstage at an event one summer (at least I think it was summer - it was a warm night) and Iman came past me, hugely pregnant and looking so lovely, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. A few years later, when I was that big and pregnant, I looked like Ted Kennedy. Life is unfair.

It’s dry/woody/leathery and dries down on me to what I think of as a slightly vanilla scented Hermés saddle (unridden, natch :) ).

My go-to is Andy Tauer’s L’air du Désert Marocain. Everyone who smells it on me loves it. The sexiest thing in the world is to hug a guy who lingers a moment and says “you smell delicious”. You’re welcome.

I remember a friend working as a stage manager for some long-form interview she was doing. She knew which side of her face was better for the camera and had the exact gel numbers she required for the lighting. No kidding.

My parents were married a year before I was born, which if math is to be believed, makes me a year younger than whatever their anniversary year may be. One year, my mother called to wish me a Happy 40th. I was actually 39. I pointed out to her that if I actually were 40 that would have made me a bastard child and…

Oh HELL YES. If you can’t find an evening sitter, there’s a better solution than bringing your child to an inappropriate movie. It’s called stay home and watch Netflix. Oh, and grow up.

Clean your windshield. The spray-back is generally annoying enough that they back off.