I flew home last week on the Red Eye from Los Angeles to see Lulu. I had a half-empty tote bag with me and was worried that it would tip over in the overhead compartment, so I took the pillow from the empty seat next to me and stuffed it into the top of my tote to secure the things inside. I put the tote into the overhead compartment and sat down. As it was late and I planned to sleep, I wrapped myself in my American Airlines blanket, put my pillow behind my head and dozed off.

About five minutes later, my seat companion – a nervous, young man – showed up and began to look for his pillow. He called the steward and complained that it was missing and that he needed to sleep. Instead of producing another pillow, the steward went directly to the plane’s loud speaker and demanded that, “Whoever took the pillow from seat 2B, please kindly return it as we only have eight pillows and they must be accounted for.”

Everyone in First Class looked around, but there was no way that I was going to get up in front of everyone and take out the now notorious pillow. As the search got into full swing and they got closer and closer to looking into the compartment with my tote I sprang up out of my seat and said, “Look, I sleep every night with a pillow, so take mine.” He did. It turned out that I wouldn’t have needed the pillow anyway because there is no way I could have slept over his snoring.     

Okay, here is the first Heath Ledger joke to be sent to me by a friend…

Heath Ledger would be alive today if the masseuse hadn’t called Mary-Kate Olsen. The five minutes that bitch needed to finish throwing up and get to the phone made the disastrous difference. Just think he’d still be alive if she weighed 150lbs.

Puke is on her, joke is on him.

I am back in New York for a second. It is cold and raw and the people are tough and the cabs don’t stop and the economy is in the toilet and I suddenly noticed that my apartment needs painting desperately AND I AM SO GLAD TO BE HOME!

Both my dogs, Max and Lulu (or as she is now referred to in my house, Paula McCartney), were at the door to greet me and the reunion was staggering (especially on Paula’s part). Only kidding!!

Seriously, it is amazing how well Lulu is doing. She is adjusting beautifully, managing stairs and truly seems non-plused about the amputation. I, on the other hand, am putting on a very brave face in front of her, but it breaks my heart.

The Vet was over to see her today and said, “She is doing remarkably well…here is my bill.”

I want to thank all of you for the notes, e-mails, prayers, donations, candles that were lit and general good thoughts during this difficult time.

Watching my dog adjust so quickly and without a “poor me” attitude just re-enforces in my mind how fabulous animals are and what great and courageous spirits they have.

Again, you have no idea how much your sweet comments and wishes meant to me.

One picture is worth a thousand words.  And Lulu's photo says it all. 

 Thank you for all your prayers and wishes for her recovery.

On Saturday night I played the Cache Creek Casino in Brooks, CA.  It is owned and run by Native Americans, so I thought they might enjoy some Native American jokes such as: 

My lawyer is half Jewish and half Native American. His tribe is called Sioux the Bastards.          

I have no sex appeal. Iron Eyes Cody saw me naked and a tear rolled down his other cheek. 

I have no sex appeal. The only Native American who ever tried to remove my bra was the Indian from the Village People and that was because he wanted to try it on.  

Lulu came home today and I am beyond thrilled. My biggest fear is that she is turning into a stoner, though a happy stoner. They removed her Morphine I.V. and we are now giving Lulu her pain killers orally.

My assistant, Jocelyn, says she is eating very well and even balancing perfectly on her one remaining back leg.  As I can not get home until the middle of the week, I am driving everybody crazy with instructions. The main one: keep her on pain meds because I don’t want her to suffer even for a second. No matter what the vets tell you, I am sure it is verrrryyyyyy painful (it is for humans, right?)

So what if she turns into a little bit of a druggie. It hasn’t hurt Kate Moss. Maybe Lulu will end up the new face of Burberry.

Great, great news.  Lulu's coming home tomorrow. 

 If she had her wishes she'd be home right now but they wanted to keep her one more night so she can get all the rest she can.  Because I know as soon as she steps through the door she will be back to the crazy, energetic Lulu we all adore.
 
Today she is MUCH more alert and feisty and she couldn't eat enough-fresh Viand turkey, Eukanubas (yes, dog food), milk bone cookies AND her favorite peanut butter cookies (yes, for dogs).  And if Dr Zelman didn't come in and stop the food orgy she would have gone on forever. 

I did leave her with some cookies-strategically placed inside her favorite redbone-so that she will have some entertainment tonight.  She's SO bored-probably why she bolts towards the exit any chance she gets. 

If you see a three-legged Boston Terrier cruising down W 55th street please return her to NYC Veterinary Specialists.                                                                                                                                  

The only good thing that has come out of the Lulu situation is that Paul McCartney just called and wants to take Lulu out on a date.   

If Lulu plays her cards right she could end up a VERY rich divorcee. I think that Lulu Mills McCartney has a nice ring to it.

Lulu is an amazing trooper.

Today she is being moved from ICU to inpatient care.  She's up and walking around-in fact she's so smart she knows exactly where the exit is and is already pulling on her leash to get out and go home.  She is such a determined dog she would have run up a flight of stairs if it meant she was free to leave.
 
Unfortunately she can't come home just yet.  She's needs to heal a little more--Monday looks like it will be the day-unless she finds a way to escape before then.....stay tuned.

Lulu is doing very well.  She has already gotten up and started to walk around and the doctors and nurses in ICU say she is getting in and out of her crate on her own--which is the best news of all.  She's on A LOT of pain medication, thank God, but she recognizes visitors and gives her typical loving kisses.  But she wouldn't eat this morning-not even her favorite turkey from a wonderful coffee shop named Viand on Madison Avenue.  The doctors say she is still nauseous from the anesthesia and pain medication. 
 
But the good news is at 5pm she did feel well enough to eat not only the crappy dog food they give them BUT she also topped that off with fresh Viand turkey and a few cookies.  She seemed ALOT more alert-hopefully the anesthesia has worn off and she's starting to feel more like herself.  She was lying down and was much more comfortable than in the morning. 
 
She now has her favorite blanket with her-which is covered with my Now & Forever scent-and her favorite red bone. Hopefully a touch of home will make her happy and not so lonely.  It's so sad to know she is there all alone.  But I know she is getting the best care ANYWHERE so that lifts my spirits. Every nurse and employee at NYC Veterinary Specialists say, "She is such a sweetheart."  And let me tell you they are the REAL sweethearts.
 
Again thank you for all your well-wishes and prayers.  They mean the world to me.

My well-read assistant sent me this note earlier about Lulu and I want to share it with you.

Dear Joan,

So sad about Lulu and sorry for you, but I know that tough little bull and she'll pull through this. She's like Tom Joad in The Grapes of Wrath, "So long as there is a foot to be licked or a Milk Bone yet uneaten, she'll be there."

xxx - Matt

My dog Lulu was given to me as a present by a man I was going out with twelve years ago. She was supposed to be a full blooded Boston terrier, but, as she kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger, my Vet suggested that perhaps there might be a touch of Boxer in her.

Whatever Lulu is, since the very beginning, she has been full of life and sweetness. She has the widest mouth that, when she pants – which is constantly - makes her look as if she is smiling. Lulu is the clown around our house, always welcoming everyone with a bark and then licking them to death, running in circles and, with a ball or bone planted squarely in her mouth, nudging anyone who is nudgable to get them to play with her. Everyone loves Lulu and she holds a special place in my heart as, for the last twelve years, she has spent every night in my bed pressed up against me.                

Last week Lulu went into the hospital to have a benign tumor removed from her bladder. While removing it the doctors took a biopsy of another cancer and......yeah, you guessed it, my darling, sweet Lulu has bone cancer. They are operating on her today and -here comes the kicker - amputating her right hind leg where they found the tumor.

I spent all of last evening crying. It kills me that an animal so dear, so loving, so totally trusting will have to go through the ordeal that she’ll have to over the next few weeks.  Please pray for Lulu. Thank you.

Flash from England, I hate being GOD.

I just flew over to Great Britain to play the God character, the one who decides the fates of the civilians, on the show Big Brother. Though I adored playing with the contestants and had a lot of (I think) funny moments, when the time came to nominate who I thought should be voted off, I just COULDN’T DO IT!  They had to send in the producer to push me into it. It was HORRIBLE! I don't ever want to be in the position of deciding who stays and who goes.

Years ago, in Las Vegas, there was a real snake of a columnist named Dick Maurice. He was evil, evil, evil to me in his column because he thought I'd snubbed him or something and one day, after a particularly bilious column about me appeared, a casino boss literally asked me if I wanted Dick to "disappear". I said no, but just knowing that I could do that settled the whole matter in my mind and made him suddenly seem like a weak, little annoyance. The feeling of having that sort of power over someone had never entered my mind again….until I had to nominate three Big Brother contestants to be voted off.

Who were they?

First was Jeremy who is an adorable race car driver and is about to become famous. I figured this would be one of the last knocks this kid would get before he hit fame, fortune, endorsements and tons of women.

Second was Liam who is a very cute kid, but he made the mistake of masturbating at night in the bedroom they ALL SHARED. Use your head, Liam - or in this case, THE head, not the bedroom.

Third was Emilia who is a gorgeous, European circus performer. She speaks very softly and lets her brother (who is also a circus performer and is a housemate on the show) yell at her, pick on her and push her around, so I thought she needed to get a few knocks to toughen her up a bit.

The one I really wanted to toss out was Amy who is a blonde conceptual artist and who has the humor of a paint can. I told her that she looked just like Heather Mills McCartney and that she should start limping just in case Paul was watching. She got SOOOOOOO offended and became SOOOOOOO pouty that I wanted to come right through the curtain and smack her (or at least cut off her leg). This Miss Goodie Two Shoes (or in her case, Miss Goodie One Shoe) was, unfortunately, exempt from being kicked out on my shift because of some task she had performed on a previous episode of the show. It was probably -as she was so pure - going up on the producers.  

Anyway, Big Brother is an adorable show and I really enjoyed doing it. My episode aired tonight, Wednesday, on Channel Four in Great Britain and I hope, I hope, I hope they ask me back.

I have always believed that, with a smile and a song, I can bullshit anybody. For example, Annette Bening had not spoken to me for over four years because of a bitty, little, minor remark that I once made. It was something to the effect that I thought she was a bit too worked-out and looked like a giant, walking tendon. When I found out that we were both going to be guests on the Today Show I didn’t want there to be any bad feelings (especially considering the fact that she played Jean Harris – who murdered the Scarsdale Diet doctor – so brilliantly), so I went up to her backstage and, while she was gathering saliva in her mouth, grabbed her by the wrists and said (this is all true), “My favorite movie this year was Being Julia. I’ve watched it four times and your performance is perfect, perfect, perfect!” Annette quickly swallowed and said, “Thank you.” I like to think that she and Warren and I will one day be close friends.

So with this “I can shit anybody” tool, I walked into my local Starbucks the other morning with a very cocky attitude. Now let me give you a sidebar, as many of you know, from several previous blogs, I am a Starbucks junkie. If anyone knows a good Starbucks, it’s me.

Unfortunately my local Starbucks makes the Love Canal look neat and tidy. This branch is so dirty that their cockroaches send out for Dunkin’ Doughnuts’ coffee and the staff (including the two guys that actually speak English) are not only surly, but are champions of unwashed hand food handling. I was hoping that perhaps there would be a turnover in 2008, but after standing in line behind Stevie Wonder and hearing him tell the Barista, “Put that scone back. I’ve changed my mind because it looks so disgusting,” I decided it was time to call for the manager and give him a little piece of the Rivers’ Rage.

When the manager emerged from the back I recognized him right away from the food and urine stains on his uniform. Before I could open my mouth he put his arms out and said, “Miss Rivers! You are our favorite customer. May 2008 be a great year for you and your family. Can I get a picture?” And then I was enveloped in a giant hug, took several snaps and quickly found myself out on the street totally defeated and fourteen dollars poorer. I quickly realized that what comes around truly goes around and you CAN shit a shitter.

Perhaps next time Warren and Nettie come to town I’ll take them to my Starbucks.

The following e-mail was sent to my friends, Digby Trout and Martyn Fletcher, from England on December 30, 2007.

And you think your family is crazy???

Dearest Digby & Martyn,

How is sunny Nassau? Poor Matilda (our Labrador retriever) collapsed on Boxing Day. She has been in the doggie hospital and, though she has been miraculously revived, her chest x-ray looks like a fog bank, which means that her days are numbered. She is full of steroids and God knows what else, but her will and her wag are back in action. We love that girl. Fingers crossed.

Richard’s sister and her family have surpassed themselves with bizarre behavior regarding Richard’s mother’s death and their lack of willingness to cancel an impending ski trip. That should be enough said, but I feel I must write this down before I forget all of the details.

On December 23rd, while she was still quite alive, they bought a coffin for Richard’s mother which they planned to pop into the back of the Land Rover and drive it (full) with the whole family to London after she kicked. There she would be transferred to the Jewish cemetery’s regulation coffin and buried. Until Mother died they kept the waiting coffin in the front hall for all visitors to see.

Their plan was that, following the funeral, the coffin “slightly used by one careful lady owner” was going to be filled with skis and loaded onto the top of the Land Rover and driven to the Alps for the family ski trip at Val d’Isere. This trip was booked before Mother’s rapid demise with deposits put down, ski tags bought, etc. and this was to start the following Thursday.

I outrageously suggested that, considering their mother’s condition, perhaps the ski trip should be postponed. This did not go over well. Then I suggested that perhaps coffin number one might just be dumped before the ski trip, which did not go over well either as the coffin is apparently quite expensive and their thought is that Richard’s dad is not long for this world either. Anyway, she died yesterday morning and they have now whacked her into the coffin and, as of 4pm yesterday, she is lying in a hallway in the flat in Brighton, which Richard’s dad keeps heated to a balmy Bahamian 82 degrees and she is beginning to stink. I politely declined an invitation to drop in for coffee.

The next bit of the plan is to load her into the Land Rover at 3am tomorrow morning and to drive her to London (Richard’s father wanted to ride with the coffin, which no funeral home will allow) so she can have a proper, religious ritual cleansing at 9am and be buried by 11am.

The kids were sent ahead on the ski trip yesterday, which means that they will not be attending the funeral. This caused untold grief to Richard’s father. As Ellen is afraid of flying (hence all these driving plans) they are leaving directly after the funeral and will peel out of the cemetery - leaving tracks on the ground - and head out to France for the big ski trip complete with the coffin containing skis and other equipment which can now go inside of the Land Rover since the kids have already left.

More madness to come.

Much love,

Fiona

I just got back from my Christmas trip to the islands and I’ve got to tell you that though the Caribbean is paradise, the airports are hell. Is a sun drenched vacation worth it if you have to go through two security searches, wait in lines longer than Shelly Duvall’s torso while dragging your own luggage and being pushed by people with sunburns?

What do you say when you are being shaken down for the second time by the Sky Cap for a tip and the surly check-in lady asks you for your name for the third time?

And to top it all off you have to decide just what kind of idiot you want to be on your trip home. Do you want to be an idiot in a winter coat at the airport in Barbados or an idiot in flip flops and shorts in New York? (I opted to sweat like a pig in paradise so that I could look Red Carpet ready in New York.)

When you finally push your way through the sea of humanity and take your seat, do you demand your money back when you discover that your seat mate is not merely an exhausted woman, but comes complete with a screaming, sunburned baby and then when the stewardess does take pity on you and moves you, you find that your new seat mate has contracted some rare, tropical coughing disease that even Mother Teresa would run from?

What am I trying to say here? I feel the only way to end a vacation in the sun is to go home by private plane – or if you can’t afford that, buy a place in the tropics and just stay there.

Happy, healthy New Year everyone !!!! 2008 is going to be just dandy for all of us !!!!!!!

I can't wait to keep blogging at all of you in 2008! I can't believe that I can sit down at my computer and type out anything that annoys me or pisses me off and that all of you read it.

It's kind of the opposite of marriage.