Coming back from the Maldives, the most awful thing happened.

A giant Hershey Kiss melted in the tropical heat inside of my luggage.

Try explaining that one to the dyke who went through my things at Customs. Gee, I wonder if this has happened to anybody else...named Mr. Bill, perhaps?

In 1996, Vanity Fair (international issue) asked me to answer a series of questions which I did. This year they have come back and asked me to do it again. What the editor doesn’t realize is 99% of the questions are exactly the same. So, as a brain exercise, I decided to see if I could give totally different answers. Here are the 1996 questions with my replies and when I figure out the new answers, I will send them out as well.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Any issue of Vanity Fair without a naked Demi Moore on the cover.

What is your greatest fear?
Having Kelsey Grammer fight with Ted Kennedy over who is to drive me home.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Marie Antoinette – she had great style and her last words were, “S*#t, just when I got my hair right."

What is your greatest extravagance?
Gold leafing anything that doesn’t move and taking Marlon Brando out to dinner.

What is your favorite journey?
Starting at Macchu Picchu, then on to the Himalayas and ending up in the bakery where Elvis exploded.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Honesty – but I’m really lying when I say that.

On what occasion do you lie?
When it will ease a situation, avoid hurting someone I care about or when I bump into Barbra Streisand after one of her screenings.

Which living person do you most despise?
My downstairs neighbor.

What is your greatest regret?
Passing on Jackie’s blender at the Kennedy estate auction.

If you could change on thing about yourself, what would it be?

Flesh toned varicose veins.

If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?
That there would be more of us, we’d all be closer…and that Uncle Benny and my dog, Lulu, would stop having accidents on my living room floor.

What is your favorite occupation?
Physicist/Pole Dancer.

What do you most value in your friends?
Unconditional loyalty and a platinum American Express card.

Who are your favorite writers?
Jane Austen…I’ve seen all of her movies.

What is it that you most dislike?
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…if I continue, will there be a copyright problem?

Yesterday my daughter, Melissa, came into town to do radio and TV spots for a wonderful charity that she is representing called Soles 4 Souls. The charity collects “gently used” shoes for people all over the world. For example, they have collected and sent shoes to New Orleans’ Katrina victims and survivors of the tsunami (for more about this organization go to www.soles4souls.org ).

After Melissa’s appearances on "The Morning Show with Mike and Juliet", "Good Morning America Radio", "ABC World News Now", Glenn Beck’s show on CNN and Catherine Crier’s show on Court TV, etc, etc. we met and went shopping, which is a wonderful thing for a mother and daughter to do together.

Many years ago the great, Jewish philosopher Morris Fisheater said (and his words have become the mantra of women worldwide), “I shop, therefore I am.”

How much do I love shopping? When people say to me, “What is your sign?” I answer, “30% off.”

I love to shop, but, unfortunately, I’m a bad shopper. If I like it, I buy it. The first three months that I had my Amex card I wore the last two numbers off. Now, however, because of my age and the way that my body looks, I am starting to get a little more cautious when I try things on. I don’t know about you out there, but just trying on a low-cut dress or a bathing suit can make me suicidal. I’ve decided that changing rooms don’t need mirrors as much as they need Prozac dispensers.

It is spring and the swallows are returning to Capistrano and, right now, Kathy Bates is waiting with a knife and fork.

How do you know that it is spring in New York? Easy:
Thieves are stealing patent leather bags.

The muggers are having a harder time hitting people over the head because we are in straw hats.

In Central Park, all the young hawks are bursting with vitality and strength and suddenly there are lots of baby birds to swoop down and eat.

At Bloomindales, the shoplifters are only stealing linens and cottons and white shoes are simply walking out the door (or if you are Heather McCartney, shoe).                      

On Madison Avenue all of the baby stroller plastic protectors have been taken off and mothers are suddenly seeing how ugly their artificially inseminated children really are.

And for me, what does spring mean? It means that the parades are back. Ah, to smell the vomit after the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Oh, to see the baby rats eating the pizza crusts after the Italian Parade. The wonder and the smell of the feces mixed with urine after the Puerto Rican Day Parade makes me proud, yet again, to be a New Yorker.

Comments and responses excerpted from my February 19th blog ...“The Best Sunday of My Life.” 

Lady Godiva wrote: Nevermind Singing In The Rain. Have you ever tried Dancing Naked In The Rain? It's a blast.

Plus you can go to the bathroom and no one knows!  It was an old June Allyson trick. When the storm clouds were gatherin' June was a happy girl. --xxx Joan

Flesh & Blood wrote: You bitch, I was going to take you to lunch too. That's the last time I ask you to lunch! Is the tv really more important than your own flesh and blood?

Dear F&B- You can't be my F&B because all of my F&B were either killed by the Nazis, Mel Gibson's family or were forced to buy retail and died of sticker shock. --xxx Joan

Jeff wrote: This would explain the number of "fluffy" men that seem to surround you Joan. Does that mean I could have "fluffy tendencies" for liking you so much??? Nah, the day I understand Justin Timberlake then I'll worry.

Dear Fluff--I just love the word "fluffy"...fluffy, fluff, fluffy. --xxx Joan

Merle Hatch wrote: You might be a gay man trapped in a raisinettes body?

No, that's Diana Ross. --xxx Joan  

I am back from my little Tourette of Ireland and Scotland. And, as I do on all of my tours, I gained weight, so I have spent the last three days eating nothing but vegetables.  

I have eaten so many vegetables that when I cut my finger yesterday I bled V-8.

What upsets me the most is that no matter how hard I am trying I just seem to get fatter and fatter. And it’s not just me; it’s everybody.

The only thing that is getting thinner is the ozone layer.

A few of you have been writing me about some F-list celebrity, Jenny  McCarthy, who apparently has been saying bad things about me.

I tried to look her up, but it took me a while.   Finally I did find her.   She is in the dictionary - under “skanky.”

I was looking at the New York Times best seller list a few weeks ago and it astonished me because half of the books in the top 10 were diet books and the other half were cook books.

Everybody diets…at least in my group of friends and I can’t lie to you, I love to eat (if I’m not holding a fork, trust me, I’m in the shower).

I am one of those people who have to diet. I have been dieting steadily for 20 years and let me tell you, if you show me a plate of lettuce I can tell you from taking just one taste where it is from, who planted it and who picked it.

Even though I am not a fiction reader per se, recently I have read two novels that I couldn’t put down – and when I say “couldn’t put down,” I mean that they are the kind of books that you get upset seeing the number of pages diminishing towards the end. The books are:

The Teahouse Fire by Ellis Avery. Ostensibly the story of two women whose lives intersect in late 19th century Japan, it really turns into a travelogue that shows you all of the customs, all the cultural quirks, all of the amazing rituals that made up Japanese life in the era when the Samurai aristocracy was declining and Japan was becoming more westernized. If you liked Memoirs of a Geisha, you will LOVE The Teahouse Fire.

The other book is Perfume: The Story of a Murder by Patrick Suskind which has been the number one best seller in Germany since it was published in the mid-80’s (nice track record, huh?). It tells the story of a French serial killer in the 18th century who works in the perfume business and has the best “nose” in the world. The translation is so extraordinarily written that, believe it or not, you will find yourself FASCINATED by how perfume is made. It is a little Devil in the White City meets Jack the Ripper and I don’t know one person who has read it who did not adore it starting with all those stupid Krauts.

Back from the Maldives and very upset. I keep slapping my hands for my man “Friday” and no one shows up. The worst part was having to unpack my bags myself. Have you ever opened a suitcase that you lived out of for two weeks? I found things growing in there that would make Sir Alexander Fleming smile.

During my travels I was given a book of Sudoku. Will someone please explain how you do this? Some people think it is fun, but I think it is a bit like doing your taxes.

Now that I am safely back in New York I want to say that the Dubai airport is probably the most amazing in the world, but run by morons. It is so big that it is impossible to get to your plane and they sell things in the Duty Free shops like Mercedes…try fitting one of those under your seat, you a**holes.                                        

My travel escapades continue.  I left London on Wednesday and flew to Dubai. From there I got on a chartered jet and flew to an airport in the Maldives.  And from there I had to take a sea plane to a private island called Male for a very unusual event.

Sir Phillip Green, who owns the Topshop store chain-which so happens to be one of my favorite stores in the world- and is one of the richest men in the U.K, hosted a birthday party for himself on this little island.  He flew in a few hundred of his closest friends and an unbelievable laundry list of talent to entertain. Besides me there is Gladys Knight and the Pips, George Michael, Ricky Martin and Jennifer Lopez.  And each artist also came with their backup singers and dancers.  Me????  I didn’t even get to borrow any of these backup performers to form my little 6 piece orchestra!!!!

We are each staying in our own “hut” with its own private beach, swimming pool and manservant. I call my man “Friday” and he calls me the “Jew Family Robinson.”

Despite the ultra-luxury of it all I am a zombie. Not only did Daylight Saving Time happen in the U.S. two weeks earlier than normal, but then I performed all over Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland and England in a mere 4 days, and then flew three-quarters of the way around the world to perform here in the Maldives. AND to top it all off, they set the clocks on the island back one hour so that Sir Phillip’s guests could enjoy an extra hour on the beach each day. It’s not so much Peak Tanning Hours as Privileged Tanning Hours.

Somehow or another I will return home late on Saturday night and then get in a car at 5:00am on Sunday to sell my beauty products on QVC.  So you better watch me between 9:00-10:00am and then from 7:00-8:00pm. I will have some great tales to tell.

I am winding down my little tour (or as I call it, my Tourette) of Great Britain.

Here is how the shows went (not that any of you care)

Dublin: First night – THROUGH THE ROOF! Second night – not quite as good as the first, so through the attic. Both audiences were terrific.

Belfast: Considering it was a Sunday night and I was waiting to be blown up for three reasons, one, I’m an American, two, I’m a Jew and three I’m a schmuck and I didn’t realize that my costume was orange, it went great!

Glasgow: What can I say? I’m changing my name to MacRivers. Unfortunately, we spent less than 24 hours in the city, but I am already saying such things as “Ach,” “Look at the bonnie Scottie dog” and “Out of me way ye f*#king, dumb lass!”

Yesterday, we spent the morning in Edinburgh, choosing venues for me to perform in during the Fringe Festival in August.  I am planning to do two different shows EVERY DAY.

At 2:00pm, I do a workshop of a new Broadway show I’m writing. At 5:00pm, I do a full-out stage performance of a revival of "Sally Marr and her Escorts"-– which I did on Broadway nine years ago and for which I was nominated for a Tony.

Dame Diana Rigg, that pale bitch, must have slept with all the voters as she won the Tony instead of me for what I felt was a very ordinary performance of Medea. Yeah, yeah, yeah…you killed your kids, you killed your husband and you’re wearing a toga…so what? NEXT!

Comments and responses excerpted from my February 23rd blog..."Questions I'd Really Like to Ask the Stars."

Jake wrote: LOL. "Britney Spears: So why not the eyebrows, too?" You are a LEGEND Joan!!!

I've met Britney close-up and she's a hairy, little thing.  I kept looking for a zipper to help her get out of what I thought was a gorilla suit. --xxx Joan

Dopey wrote: Ask what they've taken to calm their nerves.  Vicadin, Percocet, Methodone.  You know, get to the real meats and cheeses.

 I would love to say things like: "Dopey, tell me, was Sneezy gay or just allergic?"  and "Did S.W. wear   underpants?"--xxx Joan

Slappy wrote:  Don't you want to slap some of them on the red carpet?  I mean they are full of themselves.  They are acting humble.  Some of them can't act!

Slap some of them!?! How about *#*%*#* ALL of them.  Naomi Campbell is my goddess.--xxx Joan

While packing for my upcoming trip to England, Ireland, Scotland and Dubai I came across some post cards that I saved from my former childhood best-friend and teen tart Heidi Abramowitz, the only girl in high school to have a Murphy bed in her locker.

She sent this to me from London:

I just saw Big Ben. What a disappointment. I hardly call that big.

This one came from France:

I saw Versailles this afternoon. Wow, those mirrors are fabulous. What a waste to put them all in a hall.

And from Italy:

Went to the Vatican today and had an audience with the Pope. When he came up to me I did what everyone else was doing and dropped to my knees. Boy, what a commotion! How the hell did I know it was his ring I was supposed to kiss?

Reading these post cards from years ago made me very sad because my dear friend Heidi died this week…we lost her to the clap.

I am starting a diet mainly because my assistant has lost 25 pounds.

Today – so far – I have only eaten two turkey deli sandwiches, a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich, a salad left over from last night’s dinner, eight graham crackers with jam and six pieces of yesterday’s sushi.

I am hoping that the final item will help me flush my system clean of the two turkey deli sandwiches, a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich, a salad left over from last night’s dinner and eight graham crackers with jam.

One day I would like to have my body as slim as Nicole Kidman’s, but I would never want to be as tall.  Walking down the Red Carpet at the Oscars in that red dress, she truly looked like a bottle of ketchup.

On Tuesday night I went to see Liev Schreiber in Talk Radio.

It’s basically what happens to a radio talk show host one night while he is on the air. It is riveting. For those of you that might prefer a play to a musical, it’s a definite “go see”.

         Liev Schreiber is certainly going to receive a Tony nomination for it.