I found this list that I and the magazine Marie Claire, in which I found it, won’t ask you to do to save money: 

1) Don’t grow your own food. No matter how I've tried, I can't get my molten-chocolate-cake bush to thrive. 

2) Never attempt an at-home spa treatment. I don’t care long your arms can reach, there is no way to get the hair off your back by yourself. 

3) Don’t cancel cable. When you’re all alone, watching a Law & Order marathon with a giant bag of M&M’s is all one needs in life. 

4) Don’t eat out less. By the time you’ve driven all over town for saffron for a seafood risotto, you’ve blown the eight dollars that you thought you'd save. 

5) Never haggle at Hermes. The French have let us know there’s no point. They are the ones who invented the French kiss, which says, “I’m sticking my tongue out at you, even though you we’re kissing.” 

6) I won't advise you to rent out a corner of your apartment to a German student, even if she says she’s sorry for hating Americans because she couldn't read and write. (To get this joke you need to see that horrible movie, The Reader.) 

7) Avoid buying a “gently worn” bikini on eBay. 

8) And while I'm thinking of it, don’t buy Prozac on craigslist. 

9) Do not cancel Netflix and invite your friends over for an unabridged reading of The Iliad instead. 

10) Don’t start a tin-foil ball. I started one after WWII and it now takes up my entire dining room and part of my butler’s pantry. I swear to god, I don’t know what the f*ck it’s for.

I’m a little depressed. I gave my Christmas cards to a dyslexic printer. Now over 600 people think I went nuts after I wished them, “Leon Leon”.

I’m a little depressed by how stupid this generation is. I was just told by my nine-year-old grandniece that the star in the east is David Letterman.

I’m a little depressed. I try to have a good outlook, but how many thousands of times do I have to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” and pretend to enjoy it.

I recently spent three days locked away in a warm, airless room at Simon & Schuster, recording the audiobook for “Men are Stupid…and They Like Big Boobs: A woman’s guide to beauty through plastic surgery.” (You are not allowed to call it “book on tape” anymore, by the way, so shut your pie hole!)

The book, which will be in stores at the end of December, has actually turned out to be terrific because it manages to mix humor with extensive medical information on everything related to plastic surgery. I spent months working with a wonderful writer and researcher named Valerie Frankel (pronounced Val-a-ree Frahn-Kell).

The reason I tell you the pronunciation is because that’s how I’ve dealt with reading all the medical terms. Every two minutes or so, the adorable Elisa, with whom I’m worked, stopped me to say, “No, no Joan…it’s perih-nee-oh-plah-stee, not perih-ney-oo-pla-sty.”

Here are some other words I learned how to say:

“Vuh-lvah Lih-poh-pla-stee”

“Reh-tih-noh-in”

“Intro-eye-tuss”

Yeah, yeah, yeah it’s the holidays…so stay away from me.

I’ve just spent six weeks of my life devoting my days and nights to charity. Benefits, luncheons, talks, silent auctions, etc… Even George Carlin, from the dead, managed to get something out of me last month. (His widow got me down to the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. for FREE to perform in a tribute to him.)

I’m all for charity and would be delighted to spend the rest of my life making people laugh for good causes. Maybe Shop-Rite would take two jokes for a cantaloupe, my butcher would accept one anecdote for a nice prime rib  and the bank that holds my mortgage could give me a smile and thumps up for a half-hour of top-notch standup. Otherwise, keep away until the new year!