Click and Listen

Listen to Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour Tuesday at 9 p.m. EST to hear Dr. Blogstein and me bicker with each other in between interviewing fabulous and erudite guests, such as this week's -- the author of the new book The Art of Cheating as well as novelist Vince Flynn. Who is, um, kind of hot. Question: Why are all the hot guys named Vinnie?

Vinnie Flynn:















Vinnie Kartheiser:









Haaaaave mercy.

Tune in Tonight...

Switch on your newfangled internet radios TONIGHT at 9 p.m. EST to hear the Doc and I rock it out on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour -- and play the infamous "would you rather" game with the author of The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook. Also: Check out the live online forums so you can dish during the live show. Be there or be square.

We Can't Know

As I was leaving my workplace at 12:30 a.m. tonight, my fried brain could only muster one thought as I walked out of the building and past a nearby record store:

Why is Matchbox Twenty still making albums?














In unrelated news, while I'm working to put food on the table, be sure to tune in TONIGHT at 9 p.m. EST to Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour. The inimitable and wildly talented Dangerous Lee will doing the co-host thing in my place, and the lineup looks as entertaining as usual: a comedian, rappers, and maybe an (American) footballer. Enjoy, and I'll be back next week.

Switch-Hitting

I went to Vermont this weekend on a last-minute getaway with a girlfriend of mine. I went mountain biking for the first time (I didn't even wipe out -- not once!), drank a lot of local beer, and became one with various types of cheese. We drove through back through the hills of Vermont, mountain wind blowing our hair in all directions, good indie music on the stereo, and the city still far, far away.

The blessing of the weekend was not being anywhere near my cell phone or my computer, so I couldn't obsessively check my voice mail, my text messages, my e-mail, my online dating profile, or CNN.com. Of course, as soon as I returned home (relaxed, refreshed, and feeling generally great), I turned my computer on.

Now, I know I'm not supposed to stalk people via MySpace, but morons who don't set their profiles to "private" make it so easy. I decided to take a spin over to the Brazilian bartender's profile just to see what was up -- what inane comments his theater buddies have made on his page or whether he's back with his tiny actress girlfriend. Maybe some hot goss about the Bar that Shall Not Be Named. I was expecting any of that.

But I was not expecting to see that he changed his sexual orientation from "straight" to "no answer."

The Brazilian bartender is gay.

The last time Dr. Blogstein and I were out boozing it up (as we're known to do), I was whining about my love life, and he said, "You show me the guy who doesn't like you, and I will show you his boyfriend."

As much as I hate to admit it, Blogstein was right.

Jane, welcome back to New York: a city where the cutest boys are gay and Blogstein is all-knowing. Maybe I should see about moving to Vermont....

Sad, but True

I was drinking at the Bar that Shall Not Be Named this past weekend (surprise!), and I found myself in conversation with a gentleman who was asking me too many questions. I'm realizing more and more lately that I don't want to schmooze. I don't want to flirt. I just want to down my beverage, pay, and leave.

"So, what are your goals?" he asked. Please. I was so not in the mood to go there.

"I've met all my goals already," I said. "I'm going to drink myself to death, like Nicolas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas."

He looked down at my glass.

"But you're drinking Miller Lite," he said.

The man had a point.


To hear more of my booze-soaked stories as well as my attempt at witty banter with Blogstein, tune in at 9 p.m. EST Tuesday night to Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour. You might want to grab a Miller Lite first.

Calorie Coma

I finally got jealous enough of all the people eating ice cream cones on the streets of New York that I broke down and bought a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. But this wasn't any regular ice cream -- oh, no. This was a brand-new flavor I'd never even seen before: Creme Brulee. And it tastes exactly like creme brulee. One bite, and I felt like I had just finished a tasty meal of duck and escargots at the neighborhood French bistro. It's also responsible for at least one pound of weight gain, but whatever! This is summer. And this is creme brulee ice cream we're talking about, people.

Listen to Dr. Blogstein and I shake it up on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour TONIGHT at 9 p.m. EST. Go to Blog Talk Radio, tune in, and instantly become part of the cool crowd. Well, the cool online crowd anyway, but let's not mince words.

Awww, Dad

I'm pretty much the worst daughter ever, as I neglected to call my dad on Father's Day. I MAY have gone to the Jersey Shore that day with a certain Brazilian bartender, and I MAY have been way too drunk at the end of the day to remember to call my dad. But that is neither here nor there. I did call him on Monday, so I still get brownie points, but not as many as I should have racked up.

The great thing about my dad, though, is his view of relationships. He's a wonderful man -- into gardening, into drinking Miller High Life, into working for the church, into playing cards until the wee hours of the morning -- and I think that he thinks that every boy I date is as well-meaning as him. As. If.

When I was in the Midwest this past week, my dad was making copies of our written family history for me to take back on the plane. As he Xeroxed, I pawed through my closet, looking for my old softball glove and twirling an old baton I used to love, and I talked to him about men.

"[The Boyf] was good-looking," I said absentmindedly, stacking and unstacking some old books in my closet, looking for an old family photograph I had stashed there years ago. "I don't know -- I don't know if I'll ever find someone as handsome. But at least I'm prepared for that."

My dad paused, still making copies.

"You never know," he said with his back to me. "You might break the heel of your shoe on the sidewalk, and someone will be right there. Or maybe you'll be at the grocery store, and you'll meet someone."

I loved this. I loved every word of what he was saying. It was so charming -- the chick-flick version of the New York life he thinks I lead. The "meet cute."

Little does my dad know, though, what actually goes on. No parent should, really. But wouldn't it be funny if he did? Wouldn't his words of advice or reassurance be different? For me, it would go something like this:

"You never know. That bartender you've been scamming on could turn out to be un-sketchy and maybe take you out on a real date. Or that guy from the online personals might not be as bald as he looks in his photo, and then maybe you'll go from awkward beers at a neutral location to a less awkward dinner to wedded bliss. Or? That creepy IT guy from work could turn out to be a real charmer -- once you get past the whole creepy IT guy thing, anyway."

Reality is much less charming.


Listen to Dr. Blogstein and I rock it old-school TONIGHT at 9 p.m. EST on Blog Talk Radio. We promise witty banter...but don't hold us to much else. Though we DO have freaking Dick Van Patten, from "Eight is Enough" and a heck of a lot of other stuff (including "Wonder Woman"! Awesome!) on tonight. I think that means you should set your cell phone timer/Outlook calendar alarm for 9 p.m. and prepare to be entertained.

Sins of the Father: Douchebaggery

I am pretty psyched about Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour tomorrow night. Dr. Blogstein and I will be talking to the creator of HotChicksWithDouchebags.com, and that, my friends, is awesome. Check out the link for more details. Here in the tri-state area, douchebaggery is rampant and unregulated, and I think someone needs to start cracking down. "DB1," the man behind the site, is the first person I know of who has at least tried to put a stop to this epidemic.

Check us out Tuesday night at 9 p.m. EST to hear it firsthand. Click here to listen.

Swimming with the Smalleys

I went swimsuit shopping today, and, according to all women's magazines and every single Cathy cartoon ever published, women are supposed to hate that, right? We're supposed halfheartedly pull on a dozen different suits, none of which fit, and run out of the dressing room, traumatized and crying, and straight into the arms of Ben and/or Jerry.

Yes, it's a bummer. No one likes to be nearly naked in front a full-length mirror while wearing white socks and standing under ultrafluorescent lights. But, as I found today, there's a way to skew the experience in your favor.

I went to Macy's to find a decent swimsuit. Macy's puts all their ladies' swimsuits on the tippy-top 8th floor, to create a sort of hushed, closed-off chamber of torture. That means every single woman in the dressing room is trying on a swimsuit, just like you are. When I went into the fitting room and shut the door to my stall, I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between two women who were trying on swimsuits in the adjacent room.

"Girrrrl, you look good!," one said. "So sexy! You have GOT to get that one."

"You like this one?" the other said. "What about the other one? What about her?" (Somewhat endearingly [and perhaps crazily] they were personifying the suits. Each swimsuit was a "her.")

"Oh, girl, maybe get that one, too, but you GOT to get the first one," her friend said. "You look sooooo good! I'm sorry I'm staring, but you do!"

This went on for a good 10 to 15 minutes.

What struck me, though, was that as I was trying on my suits and listening to their conversation, I started feeling positive about myself and how I looked. I mean, yes, not every bathing suit fit me perfectly, but, in general, the more I heard, "Girrrrrrl, you look goooood!" from the next stall, the better I felt. That got me thinking: What if, instead of weight loss commercials and women's-magazine diets and pictures of the Olsen twins, we got steady confirmation of our worth, our beauty, and our sexiness? Granted, I don't know how we can do this without turning American values on on their head. Maybe start with a podcast? (Ha.)

Related to that, I read the "manifesto" of new Gawker Media blog Jezebel today, and, lordy, I sincerely hope the ladies who edit the blog can succeed in figuring out a way to combine traditional women's interest topics (celebrity, fashion, etc.) with feminist rhetoric and have it come out on top (so to speak/that's what she said), popularity-wise. Until time tells, I'll keep reading. Good luck, gals.

But anyway, back to the swimsuit: I walked out with this bikini in hand, a smile on my face, and an unusually positive feeling about my body image, thanks to the ladies in the stall.






















P.S. Tune in Tuesday night at 9 p.m. EST to Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour to hear Blogstein and me do our usual song and dance and talk with several special guests.

We have $50, Do I Hear $55?

Who doesn't love the "date auction" convention in most early-1990s sitcoms? "Saved by the Bell" had one. "Blossom" had one. "Full House" had one. Who can forget refined Rebecca Donaldson offering up the contents of her entire checking account to win a date with Uncle Jesse? Any sitcom that was worth its salt had a dating auction that caused at least one cast member to reveal his or her feelings for another cast member.

That rampant plot-point success is what Dr. Blogstein and I are striving to bring to you, with Blogstein's (rather clever) campaign to sell me out. Well, in not so many words. Check out Blogstein's campaign to pawn me off on eligible bachelors in the tri-state area with The Dating Jane, which will come to fruition on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour once we have enough outstanding bachelors to vie for my affections. So, guys, if you've ever pined for my verbage, please send an e-mail and a photo (natch) to Dr. Blogstein telling him why you're the one for me.

If you like early-1990s sitcoms, I know you love "The Brady Bunch," which is why you should absolutely tune in TONIGHT at 9 p.m. EST to Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour. We'll be interviewing "The Brady Bunch"'s lesser-known Cousin Oliver, who's sure to have insider info on the sitcom we've put in the American television canon. (If there is such a thing.)

She Got Game

Being successfully single isn't something one can just swoop right back into after years of being part of a couple. Or so I learned this past weekend.

I traveled to Maryland this past weekend to visit my friend J (and say hi to Neil) and attend one of J's legendary parties. She's quite the socialite, and a diverse crowd always turns up at her soirees. The evening began, and I started talking to two cute cops. They were men of few words -- tough guys' guys who were kind and shy and sweet. I loved that because the men I tend to meet in New York are creative types who talk a lot about concepts and ideas. The thought of conversing with men whose job it is to hustle and protect and do was incredibly hot. So I tried to flirt. And failed. Miserably. Instead of coming up with witticisms or cute questions to ask them, I clutched my cup of Yuengling and shifted from foot to foot in my bright, crazy-print new dress (which I realized too late is a little more Paris Hilton-esque than I had intended), trying to think of something to say.

Then it hit me: I have no game.

I think I lost a bit of moxie somewhere in that stretch of time in a relationship when impressions and appearances don't matter as much, so you say what you want and do what you want and generally backslide into being a regular gal, minus your usual dose of sparkly wit or biting humor. I'm gonna have to get that back at some point, but it'll happen. Incrementally, but I'll get there.

Also, I want to update my Typing Pool Breakup Song List, which -- thanks to all the incredibly smart, sympathetic, and music-savvy people who read this blog -- has become what I like to call "awesome."

Here's the new rundown:

1. "Here I Go Again," Whitesnake (a surprisingly good breakup song)
2. "Greenville" Lucinda Williams
3. "On My Own," Peach Union
4. "Smile," Lily Allen
5. "Song for the Dumped," Ben Folds Five
6. "Ex-Girlfriend," No Doubt
7. "More Adventurous," Rilo Kiley (courtesy S in Minnesota)
8. "Don't Stop Believin'," Journey (or any Journey, if you get right down to it) (courtesy Dr. Blogstein)
9. "Wang Dang Doodle," Koko Taylor (courtesy Phil)
10. "Alone Again, Naturally," Gilbert O'Sullivan (courtesy Dave)
11. "Message in a Bottle," The Police (courtesy Neil)
12. "Erased," Annie Lennox (courtesy Madame X)
13. "Kiss You Off," Scissor Sisters (courtesy Anndi)
14. "I'm Coming Out," Diana Ross (courtesy Tisha)

Consider my iPod filled.

To cap this list off, I was listening to Tori Amos's (quite decent) new album, American Doll Posse, today, and these lines from the song "Bouncing Off Clouds" seemed appropriate:

"Make it easy, make this easy, it's not as heavy as it seems...
Well, you can stare all day at the sky,
But that won't bring her (him) back,
That won't bring her (him) back
You say you're waiting on Fate,
But I think Fate is now
Waiting on us."

Good Times

I got my first iPod a few months ago, so I've been going through old CDs looking for music that I can fill it up with. Random "Rhythm is a Dancer" find? Gym playlist. Old mix CD from an ex-boyfriend? Some damn good James Brown to groove to on my commute.

And then I unearthed this CD from Fitness magazine that my friend D gave me eons ago (probably a freebie that someone gave him).

Here's part of the playlist:

"Save Tonight" by Eagle-Eye Cherry
"Steal My Sunshine" by LEN
"Hey Leonardo" by Blessid Union of Souls
"As I Lay Me Down" by Sophie B. Hawkins

Now, tell me you can't remember exactly what you were doing when at least one of these songs was being overplayed way back in the late '90s. For me, I'm brought back to a time when I regularly shopped at DEB, drove around my Midwestern town singing to the radio with my guy friend J during breaks from college because we weren't old enough to go to the bars, and dated the most inappropriate guy I could have possibly picked for myself on my college campus. Good. Times. Sing it, Sophie!

Also, if you can't get enough of old classics, you MUST tune in to Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour tonight at 9 p.m. EST so I can finally show all y'all exactly how seriously I take my karaoke. I'll be singing as well as competing, American Idol-style, against everyone's favorite native South African with the sexy-as-hell accent: Neil. (Clearly, I will win, but let's be nice to him anyway, 'kay?)

Listen Up

Tune in Tuesday to hear Dr. B and me try and make sense of this whole Don Imus debacle on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour. (I say: Good riddance.) We'll also be talking to the "deaditor in chief" of Girls and Corpses magazine. Really. And I'm kind of getting nauseated just thinking about it, so I'm going to save my audible retching for when we're live on the air.

Go to Blog Talk Radio at 9 p.m. EST sharp Tuesday evening, or download it for later -- say, while you're enjoying a nice stroll along a lake filled with Canada geese.

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight

Check me out tonight at 9 p.m. EST on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour. The doc and I will be talking to the author of the controversial new Mickey Mantle novel, as well as discussing what the heck's up with that Sanjaya kid on American Idol.

Click here to listen, or download it for later.

Think Fondly of Me

Be sure to tune in TONIGHT at 9 p.m. EST to Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour, where the good doctor and special guest host Jaime from The Girl Also Blogs (she's filling in for me again) will expound on such philosophical subjects as The Sopranos and a blogosphere quasi-scandal. Click here at 9 p.m. sharp to listen and/or give the doc a piece of your mind.

Rest assured I'll be back at Radio Happy Hour next week, though. I just have to have a meeting with my parole officer, er, bookie -- um -- therapist, ahem, swami tonight. You know how it goes.

Check, Baby, Check, Baby, 1-2-3-4

Check out the illustrious Dr. Blogstein and lil' ol' me on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour, via Blog Talk Radio, tomorrow (Tuesday) at 9 p.m. EST. Call in at 646-652-4804 to hang with us live, on-air, or click here just to listen.

Blogstein and I will be talking to a psychic duo, and I'm looking forward to that. I've always suspected I was Marilyn Monroe in a former life. Oh, wait. I think Anna Nicole Smith has that whole thing covered.

See You Tonight

Don't forget to tune in to Blog Talk Radio tonight at 9 p.m. EST. You'll hear Dr. Blogstein and me pontificate on such subjects as e-mail spam and Armageddon. Fun!

Also, I read this story on post-traumatic stress disorder and our female soldiers yesterday and was deeply affected by what's going on with our women overseas and on military bases. It makes me want to clip this article out and hand it to the men and women I overhear saying that sexism is over and that men and women stand on equal footing these days.

No Show for Me!

Unfortunately, I can't be on tonight's Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour. I mean, hey: I'm a gal about town, a mover and shaker, a rolling stone, don't fence me in, and any other cliche about wandering souls that you can think of. However, Blogstein will meet his match tonight at 9 p.m. EST in the form of Jaime, the swingin' sister from The Girl Also Blogs.

Please tune in to give Jaime your support and keep Blogstein in check!

And I'll be back on Blog Talk Radio next week. See y'all then!

Happy Suze Day!

I can't believe it's here, but today is the day that Suze Orman signs copies of her newest book, Women and Money, at 6:30 p.m. at the Barnes & Noble in Union Square. (Be there or be, um, square, as it were.)

I'm already mentally preparing things to say to her that won't sound stalkerish or vapid. I might have to create and memorize some crib notes.

Yahoo Finance has been giving her a sweet deal lately: They've published two excerpts of her new book so far, which will work publicity wonders, to be sure. Problem is, I haven't been so impressed with what I've seen of the book so far. I liked today's column about what we women tend to do wrong moneywise, despite its lack of useful info, but this other column about what makes a wealthy woman was horrible, peony-scented tripe. I'm sorry, but when I'm reading a column about money, I don't need to hear about things like "harmony and balance." That's for yoga class. (Which I also don't like. Too sedentary.)

So many "women's finance" books make the mistake of oversaturating the point of the book (be a good steward of your money) with wishy-washy, sugar-coated talk about feelings (you're a nurturer, so you give too much of your money away). Personally -- and I think I speak for a lot of women out there -- I'd just rather have the facts and tips that will make me rich and secure. The only good thing about making a book specifically targeted to women is that I believe women who don't know much about money will feel more inclined to pick up a specialized, gender-tailored book rather than something by, say, Jim Cramer.

But because I love Suze and her show and because she's helped me and people every where be better managers of our money, I am going to give this book a shot. And I am going to speak clearly and intelligently when she signs my copy of her book.

Hear all the details of my meeting with Suze (fingers crossed, anyway) TONIGHT at 9 p.m. EST on Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour on Blog Talk Radio! Just enter blogtalkradio.com/drblogstein into your browser (or click my handy text link) to listen. I'll share my thoughts on the signing as well as gossip about whatever predictably odd outfit Suze was wearing. You know you want to know!

P.S. In case you've missed it, Suze recently revealed to the Times magazine that she is, indeed, a lesbian. Why this is even top news, I'm unsure, but, strangely, I think I like her more because of it. You go, Girlfriend!

Showbiz Debut

Okay, guys, Tuesday night is a big one: Dr. Blogstein and I will be hosting our first official show on Blog Talk Radio: "Dr. Blogstein's Radio Happy Hour." (You all know me as Newbie, but my oh-so-sophisticated stage name is Jane.)

I will be forever indebted to you, reader, if you go to this link at 9 p.m. EST Tuesday night, Monday, Feb. 12 and either call in, listen, and/or send me some good vibes over the blog waves. Blogstein's a great guy, and I'm thrilled to be hanging with him on the air. Tune in for the undeniable chemistry (or is it sexual frustration?) that's sure to abound on our pre-Valentine's Day show!

And another thing that I couldn't resist mentioning (see? I talk about things in twos.): I'm a huge fan of Crazy Aunt Purl. I've been a reader for about a year, and love her writing's high energy level, her POV, and the unapologetic way she puts her sweet self out there. That's why I was psyched to see her post today about getting her finances in order after a huge personal setback. A little snippet:

I devised a repayment plan that was slow and painful but manageable. I had a fixed amount I repaid each month, plus anything extra went toward the debt. My bonus from work that one year? 100% went toward my debt. Yard sale money? Pay down the debt.

I had setbacks along the way (all the cats got sick AT THE SAME TIME. My car died, and then died again. And so on.) but I kept plugging along, even when it wasn't fun.

Budgeting is not for the faint of hard, kiddies, and Purl's entry nails down exactly why we need to win our financial independence back from the the credit card companies, the loan officers, and our bookies. (Kidding on that one.... I hope.) I'm especially convinced that women, who sometimes give the financial reins over to other people too quickly, need a pep talk like this every now and again to remind ourselves (pardon me as I get all Stuart Smalley) that we are absolutely capable enough to take charge of our own financial destinies. (See: This thing I'm really, really excited about. Love you, Suze!)