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Deer? Dumb.Turkeys? Dumber. Deer & turkeys? Two great tastes that taste great together.

as in "I hope my plane LaLaLands" in LA.

I kicked that melon's ass.

You'll never see me on these, but I like to watch.

Saturday night square dancing. Big fun 'round these parts.

My mom makes me feel like a kid again.

Formats Available: iPod (.mp4) | 720p HD (.mp4) Behind the scenes @ blip.tv. Prod/Edit/Camera: Bill Cammack blip.tv s Dina Kaplan interviews Grace Piper about social media, branding and her show/site Fearless Cooking Shoutouts, Cameos Photo Credits in this video: Steve Garfield Chris Brogan Jeff Pulver Laura Fitton Sunny Gault Charles Hope Brian Shaler NoodleScar MissBHavens Galacticast VON The Webby Awards Bill Cammack

Formats Available: iPod (.mp4) | 720p HD (.mp4) Behind the scenes @ blip.tv. Prod/Edit/Camera: Bill Cammack blip.tv s Dina Kaplan interviews Grace Piper about social media, branding and her show/site Fearless Cooking Shoutouts, Cameos Photo Credits in this video: Steve Garfield Chris Brogan Jeff Pulver Laura Fitton Sunny Gault Charles Hope Brian Shaler NoodleScar MissBHavens Galacticast VON The Webby Awards Bill Cammack

The only thing less interesting that watching grass grow is watching it get cut......unless you grew up in the city and never mowed a lawn in your life. THEN it's pretty damn exciting!

Champagne after a hard day...

Ahhh, nature.

Winding down The Plaid Years, thank goodness. Unlike the last journal entries, these are a lot less eventful (that's probably for the best) and span a large stretch of time. The Plaidd Years should really should be called "College: The Early Years". I took another couple of stabs at it 'till I got it right. Then grad school took a few more stabs, topped off by a second bachelors' stab. For someone who clearly did not like school, I sure went to school a looooong time.The most annoying thing about this diary is that not only are the pages not pre-printed with dates but I didn't date them, either! I guess I though that being deliberately vague was really, really cool. I also didn't name anyone, I just used their initials. Not helpful. When I'm 80 I'll have no idea who these people are.I left out the superpathetic sex bits. Plenty of that in my last post. That's all you get.

Now we are treading in dangerous waters. No life jackets. Pirhanas everywhere. Nibbling. We're moving on to a new journal. The plaid one. The Plaid Years were...well...plaid. All jumbly and going in several directions at once. Why? Because that's what being a college freshman is all about. Everyone around you is saying you're grown up, that you're an adult, but you're not by a long shot. What you really are is a 13th grader masquerading as an adult. I'm sure I thought I was a sophisticated Woman of The World, what with my being away at college and all**, but in reality I was just as much of a kid as most of my friends. I slept with a teddy bear and was still having nightmares about The Day After.I shot video of several journal entries from The Plaid Years, but realised that this one-- the first one-- should just be out on the loose on its own. A side note to the Fathers: Yes. It's true. Your daughters will get older, they will have sex --likely too soon-- and it will be a nightmare for you. They might make some questionable choices in spite of the fact that you've raised them to be strong, smart young women. You can't lock them in the basement. Actually, I guess you could lock them in the basement...Go. Go do it now. Yes. Lock your daughters in the basement. Hurry!

The Unicorn Years: Part Two. After a couple of years of writing in dated diaries I became embarassed by the volume of empty pages when I didn't write so I took to writing entries in blank books instead. The gaps are still there, just less obvious. That's why the unicorn book lasted as long as it did. It stretches all the way into March of 1986 - the Spring semester of 11th grade - and it's still more than half empty. I never could resist starting a new blank book. There is a huge gap between September of '84 through September '85. The pages for the entire school year are actually ripped out. I have no idea when I did that, but I do remember Junior year being excruciating. Academically disasterous, freindships obliterated, loyalties tested, epic scale teen-girl drama. I'm pretty sure my best high school girl friend wrote a play about that year when she was old enough to parse it all. I know why those pages are gone. Someday maybe I'll vlog about it, but for now, let's just forge ahead. Now we're getting into the yucky part of being a teenager. Pain, rejection and parental disapproval. I really should have stopped listening to The Smiths so much. But how could I? They were speaking directly to me.

Last year for VBWeek I reviewed some of my favorite good, cheap foods of NYC. This time, it's personal. Pretty much every year for as far back as I can remember someone gave me a daily diary as a Christmas gift. Being the pack rat that I am, I still have most of them.I'm not sure what made me think that reading them in public was a good idea. I was inspired by a recent episode of my favorite radio show in which a man read entries from his childhood journals expressing his deep desire to become the prime minister of Israel. It's what you'd expect from a teenager's journal. It's intense, outrageous and touching. It's also seriously cringeworthy. I haven't read all the way through mine and don't know what embarassment is in store, so this little project may end abruptly.I'm expecting a whole lot of cringing going on. Let's start with 1983-1984. From what I can recall, those were very good years.

the internets brings us all closer.

Live in New York City? Have a car? Then you know alllllllll about this scenario.

There's a little rebel in each of us.

Because they say the third time's a charm.Or, not.

Oops, I did it again. This time, to the Tuff Darts.

This is for MissBHavens, because she made one for me. The music is pure Chris Chandler, troubadour, & my hero.

self-explainatory, unnecessary.And yet, it happened.

Today two wisdom teeth came out. It wasn't the nightmare I was expecting, but nor was it remotely pleasant.

Five times a day, you hear the Islamic call to prayer. No matter where you are in Istanbul (on the European side, anyhow) you can hear it. Here are just a few of the wonderful sights and sounds of Istanbul, including The Haigha Sophia, The Blue Mosque and the Bosphorous Sea.

From the Dolmabahce Palace in Istanbul: shoe condoms.