You would think that, at my advanced age, I would have learned not to read press releases issued by magazines. But there was something about Glamour Magazine's latest piece of puffery that made me reach for the letter opener.
I learned that in the January issue, Glamour has asked assorted celebrities what they worry about.
Since I know you're dying to find out . . . .
Bruce Willis worries that "people believe the outright, bold-faced lies printed about me."
Jackie Mason worries that he "won't live long enough to spend all the money I'm making."
Jane Pauley worries about bringing up a family in Manhattan.
Victoria Principal worries that she'll wake up and discover that her career was all a dream.
Jimmy Smits worries that his character on "L.A. Law" will never find true love.
Carrie Fisher worries about death, AIDS, cancer, her appearance and her weight, in that order.
Finally, Elayne Boosler worries that "I'll never find a guy I trust enough to tell him my cash-machine code."
Since I don't know who more than half these people are, my blood pressure didn't veer sharply in either direction after I learned of their anxieties. And since I've now revealed what's in the feature article in the January Glamour, you won't have to spend your hard-earned dough to buy it.
But as scintillating as the "worry" press release may have been, I'm ultra-annoyed with myself for spending three precious minutes on it. The only worse way to spend three minutes is to pick up the soap opera digest in the grocery checkout lane.
So it's time for don't-get-mad-get-even.
Dear Glamour Magazine:
Since you didn't ask, here is what makes me, Levey, pudgy pundit, worried.
Guys who don't start driving when the light turns green.
Guys who don't stop driving when the light turns red.
Envelopes from the American Express Co. that are very thick.
People who hear I was born and raised in New York, a city of 8 million, and who then say, "Do you know my cousin, George Glutch?"
Weathermen who say, "No accumulation. I guarantee it."
Newspaper stories about the cost of college in the year 2000.
Waiters who stand there while you order onion soup, shrimp cocktail, caesar salad, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, a side of pasta, strawberry shortcake and Irish coffee, and who ask: "Is that all?"
Anyone who calls me Robert. Is he from the IRS?
Teen-agers who use the word "like" eight times in a single sentence.
Political pollsters who look at my address and claim to be able to predict my voting tendencies -- when I don't even know who's running yet.
With apologies to Carrie Fisher, death, AIDS, cancer, my appearance and my weight, in that order.
Bizarre doings in a local restaurant, as reported by "Me Again," a reader in Arlington.
"I was out with another girl, just having dinner," Me Again writes. "Entrees were about $14 in this place, so you expect a little decorum for your money.
"Our waiter, a sensible-looking family man in his late 30s, teased us throughout the meal. He was saying things that might have been funny from a close friend, but were definitely just plain unnerving from a stranger.
"We were floored when, after our main courses arrived, he looked at mine (the day's special) and said, 'You know, I've been wanting to try that. Would you mind if I tasted yours?'
"I stared dumbstruck at him and said that I guessed it would be all right. As I looked around vaguely for a spoon, he stuck his index finger in the sauce and declared it very good. Then he smiled, told us to enjoy and walked away.
"What was I supposed to do? Throughout the meal he was cordial and reasonably attentive to our needs. I truly believe that if I had reacted by leaving a small (or no) tip, he would have been confused.
"Am I wrong, or was this weird?"
You're not wrong, Me Again. This guy stepped way over the line of propriety. But the one question you haven't asked (or answered) is why he did what he did.
I think I know.
I think that, family man or no, he was preening for you ladies just a bit. Trying to arouse your interest. Flirting amid the flambe, if you will.
Even so, the end doesn't come close to justifying the means. If you're a waiter, you just don't stick your finger in someone's sauce, even if you've been her lover for 100 years.
To the waiter: Hiss. To Me Again: Congratulations on keeping your cool. And a little free advice:
Don't go back to this place. I think this guy liked you -- a lot. If you show up again, he might try to win your heart by eating the whole basket of rolls.
Thanks to Donald Edwards of Adelphi for locating the only honest cabbie in town.
Donald spotted him on Military Road NW. A sticker adorned his rear bumper. It read:
DON'T FOLLOW ME -- I'M LOST
Recent group donors to our annual fund-raising campaign include:
The Happy Warriors of Sharon Chapel, All Saints Episcopal Church, Alexandria ($120).
Invitations Galore of Lanham ($25 in honor of Toby Blumenthal).
The North Bethesda Ladies Bowling Team, which rolls at White Oak Lanes ($15).
"We Ladies" in the White Oaks Elementary School cafeteria, Burke ($25).
Friendship Club of Hunters Woods, Reston ($25).
Venturi Associates ($41 in memory of Dorothy Ferraro).
Credit Card Service Corporation's Wellness Committee ($100).
VIP Travel Agency of McLean ($670 -- half from the staff, half from the company).
"The folks" on the Fourth Floor of the Center for Night Vision & Electro-Optics, Fort Belvoir ($20).
The National Aviation Club ($800).
St. Andrew's Leisure Club of Silver Spring ($50).
Records Analyis Subunit, Laboratory Division, FBI ($30).
The staff, Woodlawn Elementary School, Alexandria ($107).
The Duplicate Bridge Group of The Country Club of Fairfax ($50 in lieu of prizes at the Christmas banquet).
Book Processing Branch, Bureau of Engraving and Printing ($144).
The Vantage Thursday Nite Ladies Bridge Club ($60).
TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE CAMPAIGN:
Make a check or money order payable to Children's Hospital and mail it to Bob Levey, The Washington Post, Washington, D.C., 20071.