Television hell or I have no life.

I have reached a TV watching nadir. It finally happened, I acheived watching the lowest form of programming to date. Ironically it feels like a "personal best." This has nothing to do with my life long addiction to "All My Children," which btw is highbrow by comparison. And as a quick aside, I desperately need to know the name of Susan Lucci's plastic surgeon. Surprisingly my TV nadir isn't "The Housewives of Orange County" either. I was lulled into thinking those wacked out women were the epitome of broadcasting hell but they're not. I watched five consecutive episodes last week because apparently I have no life. I hung on through Lynn's face lift and her daughter's nose job and reeled with nausea. Do not watch the Housewives after you've eaten . I sat wide-eyed as they pranced around Orange County nearly naked in their colorful "tribal" clothes. I wondered why they weren't on the "travel channel" or featured in "National Geographic?"

Yet alas, the Housewives have been surpassed in shallowness by "The Millionaire Matchmaker." I have to ask, why, why, why this is a program? More importantly,why was I watching? I sat through four episodes which amounted to witnessing 16 dates. I concluded that the men were in search of giant breasts and the women a VISA card with no limit. Patti, who runs this millionaire match making service is a dominatrix type who tries to keep the wild men breast hunters from behaving like reptiles and the women from having sex with them on the first date. Patti gets crazed and verbally lacerates the kids when they don't follow dating protocol. I think she whips them off screen. I looked longingly at the New York Times Book Review which sat only inches away from me, yet kept watching. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, Patti made me realize I don't have the giant breasts it takes to get a millionaire, although I am good at following directions which would make her happy.

I put the clicker down, picked up the book review and felt oddly proud of achieving a TV low.

High School - Heaven or Hell?

High school was hell. Every morning was pressure packed with the emotionally draining dilemma of what I was going to wear. I'd rip blouses, skirts, and sweaters out of my closet desperately trying to remember when I wore them last. At New Trier we had the unwritten "one week" rule - no repeat outfits for one week. Talk about anxiety. I wasn't great at mixing and matching so by Thursday I was a nervous wreck and declared I was sick and had to stay home. "Get dressed," my mother would shout back. "But I have nothing to wear" I would cry. She was heartless and made me go to school in a repeat outfit. Fortunately my girlfriends and I traded off clothes at our lockers to keep pace. I still have no idea who has my greenish blue Villager cable knit button down sweater and want really want it back.

Yes, I probably have better things to do than ruminate about A-line skirts and cable knit sweaters but I just had three of my girlfriends from high school visit and it was like we were back in 1966. Is an afternoon of giggling and shrieking at a chic Palm Springs restaurant appropriate for grown women? We didn't care and didn't apologize to the other diners who glared at us. First and foremost we were convinced we all looked exactly the same. Exactly. Barbara for reasons as yet undetermined had kept her assignment notebook from sophomore year and we recreated each and every day. We were very shallow. Birthdays, half birthdays, parties, driving around aimlessly and boys filled every waking hour. We all went to college but I have no idea how given our busy schedules. I am however, convinced Barbara was invited to more sweet sixteen parties than I, which is disturbing. I am still shallow. I was also surprised at how many boys we mixed and matched like Villager outfits.  They were a huge part of our thought process or our only thought. Some relationships lasted three days, others two weeks and why Bill Freilich dropped me is still a mystery.  It set me back most of freshman year. Thankfully Dave Stepelton asked me out behind his cheerleader girlfriend's back and I recovered. Shallow but happy again.

Our lunch lasted 5 hours yet felt way too short. There's no end to re-living the times we shared. I liked being in 1966 again. I have to confess however I don't look exactly the same...my hair's shorter.  I may have outgrown all my cute Villager outfits but I haven't outgrown my high school girlfriends.

I Want a "Walk of Fame" Square

I want a square on the "Walk of Fame" in Palm Springs . I wonder whether this takes cash or actual celebrity. I happened to step on Phylis Diller yesterday and under her name it read "comedian" which got me thinking. I can't decide what they would write after my name. A blank square would disappoint my mother because she thought I had potential. Hang on a sec, maybe it could be a list of what I "tried to be" - that sounds ambitious, hopeful, and a reason to keep reading.

Gail Maria Forrest
"Tried to be" :
Dorothy in the "Wizard of Oz" in 6th grade - instead played a winged monkey
Peggy Fleming - I couldn't do a double axel and fell a lot
Dale Evans - I didn't have a horse, buckboard or singing cowboy
Annette - I was too flat chested and my Mickey Mouse ears shrunk in the dryer
Liz Taylor - I need five more husbands to catch up
Imelda Marcos - I'm at least 300 or 400 pairs of shoes behind
The Flying Nun - I forgot I was Jewish and hate to fly
Von Trapp Family Singer - I look bad in lederhosen and can't pronounce "Edelweiss" with an Austrian accent

Well well well my "Walk of Fame" square is pretty full after all. A lot better reading than Phylis Diller's. Got a square to share?

I do not want an iPhone but still think Steven Jobs is attractive

2010 will not be the year I buy an iPhone. I know, I know, it's the latest, best and dandiest gadget on the market. I realize I'm way behind the technological curve. I never had a Palm Pilot and still schlep around a Filofax which btw you can no longer get calendar refils for so I'm stuck in 2005. I was the last person on record to buy a computer and five years and four months after purchasing it I learned to "cut and paste." This is an insight into my soul and ability to learn new tricks. I love to cut and paste but feel I've reached a technological zenith. I can't fathom operating the new little phone without expensive therapy.

I've noticed people with iPhones look down at them a lot and I like to look up. I am fearful of the sky falling. It also really scares the bejesus out of me when I'm driving with someone who is searching for a new fun restaurant on their iPhone and steering with their knees. "Holy crap, put the phone down, I'm not hungry." What is so addicting about these tiny machines? Is access to information 24/7 really necessary? I hate information after 9:30 a.m. To say nothing of the fact that it must be very bad for your thumbs to constantly scroll scroll scroll - not good for someone like me with a large medical deductible.

Truthfully I don't have a GPS or iPod either. I have a little radio with push button channels that I take with me running. I get two stations with bad music. I drive around hopelessly lost and no one will open their car window to help me with directions. It's hard to steer and weep. In 2010 I might get a compass.