Talk Dirty to Me About Bagels
The loss of my sense of taste has driven me mad with longing.
Joyce Wadler
An occasional humor column, much like the one I did at The New York Times, which was called "I Was Misinformed". But now, the only gatekeeper is me. I hear I will let me get away with anything.
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Latest posts
Julie Andrews Would Take This Cancer in Stride
I am not Julie Andrews
And as a Special Treat, We'll Throw in Chemotherapy
How's that for a surprise in the Cancer Goody Bag?
I'm Summering at the Head and Neck Radiation Unit
Care to join me?
Where Did You Go For Your Bra, Mrs. Robinson?
A beloved classic, which failed to save my ass -- though it did make it cuter.
"Levon," Says I to the Rock 'n Roll Legend, "Why Are You Doing This Interview in Your Underwear?"
Every May, I run my classic column on the art of the interview for Journalism School grads hoping to work for newspapers. All ten of them.
The Cool Aunt Conundrum
How do you keep your rep on the way to cancer surgery?
The Therapy Rabbits are Booked Solid
The hell with that, thinks I.
Sorry I Have To Cancel Lunch, There's a Cancer in My Head
Why couldn't I have been born brave instead of merely beautiful?
Samuel Beckett's New Musical: Waiting for the Surrey
Celebrate Beckett’s birthday on April 13th with his revisionist, toe-tapping, “Oklahoma”. He came back from the dead to write it for you.