A digest of the top blogger thoughts and ideas - The A listers

For most of my career, after getting bad reviews I would take to my bed,refuse all calls, drink wine straight from the bottle, eat chocolate and chocolate cake, think about never writing again and consider going into social work or medicine, and fantasize about doing bodily harm to critics, who were-of course-jealous, sex-starved, ugly, broke, mean, abusive, and sexist. I considered hiring hit men, but since I've always pretty much hung out with liberals and eggheads, I never had access to those phone numbers. So my revenge of choice would be public humiliation. Looking my best in an Yves Saint Laurent velvet "smoking," and four inches taller in my Louboutin black velvet boots with glittery heels, I would splash cold vodka in my critics' eyes at the PEN gala. Though blinded for the evening, they would see the errors in their ways, repent, fall to their knees, and kiss my beautifully pedicured feet. I got so carried away with nasty press that my third husband, Jon Fast, used to hide my reviews, but eventually someone would quote the worst phrase to me-often on TV.