Coming March 26, 2024

Chick Wit

  • Column Classic: We Are All Ferraris February 18, 2024

    By Lisa Scottoline

    By the time you read this, you will have survived Valentine’s Day. 


    I spent mine with dogs and cats, but I’m not all pathetic and sad about it, and if you were in a similar position, you don’t have to be mopey, either. 

    Here’s why. 

    You’re not alone. You may feel that way, thanks to TV commercials for conversation hearts and bouquets you aren’t getting, but you’re not the only one. There’s lots of women like us, who end up manless in middle age, whether by choice or not. I know, because I get lots of heartfelt emails from widows and divorcees, as I am fast becoming the poster child for inadvertent celibacy. 

    By which I mean, not woe-is-me celibacy, but more like, Oh, has it really been that long? 

    Also, why don’t I miss it, when I used to like it well enough?  

    And why aren’t I on a mission to find a man? 

    To begin, let me tell you about a recent blind date. Most of my dates are blind, as that gives me a fighting chance. 

    I thought he was nice, handsome, and smart, which is three more things than I ever expect. And we were having a great time, yapping away though his first and second vodka. But by the time he got to his third vodka, his words slurred, his eyes glistened, and he blurted out the following: 

    “I miss my girlfriend. I don’t know why she broke up with me. The kids didn’t like her, but I did.” 

    Uh oh. 

    This would not be a happy ending. He told me the next day that it was the only time he’d ever tried to kiss somebody who was putting her car into reverse. 

    That would be me, and can you even believe he went in for the good-night smooch? 

    Could it be worse? 


    So, take a lesson from my horrible blind date. He was bemoaning the loss of his girlfriend, when he had a perfectly fine woman sitting across from him, ready, willing, and able. 

    Oh, so able. 

    In other words, don’t miss out on the fullness of your life merely because something is missing. 

    A man is not a passport. Having one is nice, but not the law. And if you’re alone, you can’t go into suspended animation. You have to live your life and you can be happy. So, make yourself happy. 


    Flip it. If you think that being on your own is the problem, turn that idea on its head.  Make being alone a bonus. For example, if you’re on your own, you don’t have to ask anybody’s permission to do anything or take anyone else’s feelings into account. You can paint your kitchen orange if you want and make all manner of dumb mistakes. 

    You’re not single, you’re a cappella! 

    Which sounds a lot more fun, plus it’s Italian. 

    But how do you figure out what makes you happy? 

    Try things. Try anything. Paint. Draw. Take piano lessons. Read a book. Keep a journal. Write a story. Go to night school. Volunteer. Sing. Rearrange the furniture.  Rescue animals. Join a book club or start one. 


    Bottom line, any verb will do. 

    Do whatever you like. And since I bet you’ve spent most of your life taking care of others, take a little care of yourself. Get your hair done, and your toenails. Especially the amazing disappearing pinkie toenail. 

    If you can find it. 

    Spend a little money on yourself.  Buy a new sweater and parade around. 

    Look at you, girl! 

    Here are some of the things that make me happy: Daughter Francesca, dogs, friends, work, books, reading, cats, a big TV, a pony, opera, and chocolate cake. My life and my heart are full, and though I live alone, I don’t feel lonely. 

    As for the occasional date, if it happens, great. Maybe I’ll meet a man who doesn’t like vodka that much, but no matter. 

    The point isn’t him. 

    It’s me, and you. 

    Think of yourself as an exotic sports car, like a Ferrari, that leaves its garage only occasionally. 

    Not everybody can drive you, and you don’t wait to be driven. 

    You’re not that kind of car. 

    And neither am I. 

    So hit the gas, and live. 

    Copyright Lisa Scottoline 2011

  • Column Classic: I Like Big Brains and I Cannot Lie February 11, 2024

    By Lisa Scottoline

    I have excellent news, ladies.

    And its excellent news for men too, depending on how they feel about big butts on women.

    But, men, whatever your opinion, I’m advising you to keep it to yourself. Don’t go spouting off to your wife or significant other while you’re reading. You will start a conversation that can go sideways pretty quick.

    Or more appropriately, south.

    Bottom line, no pun, I came across an article reporting that women with big butts are less likely to develop disease and are even smarter than women with average or smaller butts.

    Finally, some good news!

    Even if it does seem completely unbelievable!

    According to the article, women with bigger butts have lower cholesterol levels because their – correction, our – hormones process sugar faster. And we also have less of a risk of developing cardiovascular conditions or diabetes.

    I know that sounds totally wrong, but I read it on the Internet, so you know it’s 100% correct.

    When it comes to medical information, the Internet is always dead-on.

    But if you rely on it, you end up dead.

    Just kidding.

    I absolutely do rely on the Internet for medical advice. In fact, I don’t even know why we have doctors anymore.

    Oh, right, we don’t.

    Because if your deductible is $6500, like mine, you basically don’t have a doctor. Or you better hope that if something bad happens to you, it ends up being really catastrophic, so you get your money’s worth.

    Fingers crossed?

    To return to point, the article said that women with big butts have a surplus of omega-3 fatty acids.

    Or fatty assets.

    Or a fatty ass.

    Anyway, I believe that. Because I’m a woman with a big butt and I have a surplus of everything.

    Including goodwill and happiness!

    And in even better news, omega-3 fatty acids are related to improved brain function.

    How great is that?

    Aren’t you glad you came?

    You can thank me anytime!

    In fact, I hope you’re sitting on your nice big butt as you read this column, and now you know that you’re comprehending it at warp speed because of your superior brain function.

    Who knew that your brain was connected to your butt?

    Unless you’re one of those people who have their head up their ass.

    The article even said that the fatty tissue in our butts “traps harmful fatty particles and prevents cardiovascular disease.”

    Wait, what?

    That’s basically saying that fat traps fat – but maybe it does!

    After all, birds of a feather flock together.

    Who are we to question Dr. Internet?

    More excellent medical advice!

    So, from now on, just look at your big fat butt and visualize it as some extremely fleshy Venus fly trap, trapping all the fat in the tri-state area, strengthening your heart and increasing your IQ.

    Fat is genius!

    Now, if the medical advice in this article is true, that would mean that the Kardashian’s are the smartest people ever.

    Laugh away, but the joke’s on you.

    They made zillions of dollars selling pictures of their butts.

    And we bought them.

    In other words, they made asses out of us.

    With their asses.


    I must say that I have never weighed in, again no pun, on the whole big-butt phenomenon. My butt is big and always has been, but I never viewed it as positive. When I was growing up, the cool thing was to have a flat, skinny, or nonexistent butt. Happily, those days are over.

    Or behind us.

    Nowadays, people pay to have butt implants, and since this article, I finally understand why.

    So, people will think they’re smart.

    Copyright Lisa Scottoline 2016

  • I’m a Little Teapot February 4, 2024

    By Lisa Scottoline

    Once again, I learned something from Daughter Francesca.

    I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around.

    Either she’s a really smart kid or I’m a really dumb mother.

    We begin last month, when Francesca had a cold and comes home with a neti pot.

    If you’ve never seen a neti pot, it looks like the small pot they serve tea in in restaurants, which is cute.

    Except a neti pot is not cute.

    This is where it gets disgusting.

    If you’re eating, move on.

    But if you want to change your life, keep reading.

    When Francesca came home, I asked her to show me how to use a neti pot.

    So she fills the neti pot with distilled water, puts in a little packet of God knows what, and screws the cap on. Then she inserts the spout of the neti pot into her right nostril, tilts her head to the left over the sink, and pours water up her nose.

    You know what comes out her left nostril?

    Water and snot.

    I almost threw up. It gave me nightmares.

    Until I got a cold.

    And I bought a neti pot.

    And it changed my life.

    My sinuses felt clean for the first time ever.

    And my cold went away.

    Meanwhile I didn’t even know I had sinuses beside my nose.

    But my neti pot did.

    I get more oxygen now than ever before.

    I breathe like a champ.

    My sinuses sparkle.

    So I’m addicted to my neti pot. I use it every night, whether I need to or not. I can’t even wait until bedtime to clean my sinuses.

    It’s sex for middle-aged women.

    Meanwhile I barely shower.

    I can’t be bothered.

    And my hair never gets greasy like it did when I was young and normal.

    It’s straw now.

    At this point, I’m pretty sure it repels water.

    Anyway to return to point, it’s easy to use a neti pot, once you practice.

    All you do is stick it up one nostril and start pouring.

    At first you’ll feel like you’re waterboarding yourself.

    Don’t worry.

    You are.

    I forgot to mention, you have to keep your mouth open and breathe.

    I forget that sometimes at night.

    Basically I drown myself before bed.

    If you forget the directions, remember the song:

    “I’m a little teapot, short and stout.

    Here is my handle, here is my spout.

    Now stick it up your nose.”

    Okay, that’s not the song.

    I remember on the show Welcome Back, Kotter, when Vinnie Barbarino used to say “up your nose with a rubber hose.”

    My mother always thought that was hysterical.

    But that’s exactly what using a neti pot feels like.

    It’s like a douche for your nostrils.

    Meanwhile, does anyone even douche anymore?

    I found a website for, which said that about a fifth of women between fifteen and forty-four still douche.


    Why did anybody ever douche?

    Way back when, Mother Mary did. She told me that women were supposed to so they were clean down there.


    The sinus of the south.

    Are you throwing up yet?

    I remember there were commercials for douche on TV, telling you in sneaky ways that your vagina was stinky.

    But I’m pretty sure it smelled like a vagina.

    I checked online, and all the websites I found recommend unanimously that women should not douche.

    Your vagina is self-cleaning. Like your oven.

    But not like your sinuses.

    It reminded me of another memory of my mother, and I have so many I think of them as mommaries.

    Mother Mary was in a hospital gown being wheeled into surgery, and when the orderly moved the sheet aside, there was spotting underneath. The orderly hastily covered it up, embarrassed for her.

    Mother Mary shrugged. “Don’t worry, it’s rust.”

    Copyright Lisa Scottoline 2024

  • Column Classic: Lift and Separate January 28, 2024

    By Lisa Scottoline

    Once again, you’ve come to the right place.

    If you read this, you’re going to LOL.

    But this time, I can’t take the credit.

    Sometimes the world hands you an ace. All you have to do is set it down on the table and play.

    I’m talking, of course, about the Smart Bra.

    Have you heard about this? If not, I’m here to tell you that at the recent consumer electronics show, a Canadian tech company introduced a Smart Bra, which is a bra that is smarter than you are.

    Or at least smarter than your breasts.

    Microsoft is reportedly developing a Smart Bra, too, and I’m sure the other tech companies will follow suit.

    Or maybe bra.

    If it creeps you out that the male-dominated tech industry is thinking about what’s under your shirt, raise your hand.

    Just don’t raise it very fast.

    They’re watching you jiggle.

    Bottom line, the Smart Bras contain sensors that supposed to record your “biometric data” and send it to an app on your mobile device.

    It’s a fitbit for your breasts.

    Or a fittit.

    Sorry, I know that’s rude, but I couldn’t resist.

    Like I said, the world handed me an ace.

    Anyway, to stay on point, the biometric data it monitors is your heart rate and respiration rate, but Microsoft has taken that a step further. According to CNN, their Smart Bra is embedded with “psychological sensors that seek to monitor a woman’s heart activity to track her emotional moods and combat overeating.” In fact, their “sensors can signal the wearer’s smartphone, which then flash a warning message to help her step away from the fridge and make better diet decisions.”

    Isn’t that a great idea?

    It’s a bra that tells on you when you’re hitting the chocolate cake.

    Forgive me if I’m not rushing out to buy one.

    I already know when I’m being bad, and I don’t need to be nagged by my underwear.

    By the way, the Smart Bra sells for $150.

    If that price gives you a heart attack, the bra will know it.

    Maybe the bra can call 911.

    Maybe the bra can even drive you to the hospital.

    Don’t slack, bra.

    That’s for breasts.

    The Canadian company says that wearable tech is the latest thing, and that it developed its Smart Bra because it had “a plethora of requests from eager women who wanted in on the action, too.”

    Do you believe that?

    I don’t.

    On the contrary, I know a plethora of eager women who wish they didn’t have to wear a bra at all.

    I also know a plethora of eager women who take their bra off the moment they hit the house.

    Plus, I know a plethora of eager women who skip the bra if they’re wearing a sweatshirt, sweater, or down vest.

    Finally, I know a plethora of eager women who would never use the word plethora in a sentence.

    Okay, maybe I’m talking about myself.

    Frankly, I don’t want “in on the action” if the action means a bra that will tell the tri-state area I’m pigging out.

    However, I want “in on the action” if the action means Bradley Cooper.

    And nobody needs a Smart Bra to monitor what would happen to my heart if Bradley Cooper were around.

    By the way, researchers are not currently developing a pair of smart tighty whiteys for men.

    That’s too bad because I have a name for it.


    But maybe men don’t need underwear with a sensor that detects their emotional changes.

    They already have such a sensor.

    In fact, they were born with it.

    Too bad it doesn’t make any noise.

    Like, woohooo!

    Copyright Lisa Scottoline 2016

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Lisa Live!

Mark your calendars.  “Lisa Live” on Facebook every Monday night from February 5, 2024 through March 18, 2024 at 7:30 pm ET, where Lisa will reveal her inspirations behind THE TRUTH ABOUT THE DEVLINS! And then, on Monday, March 25, 2024 join “Lisa Live” for her Virtual Publication Celebration (time tbd!).

And, be sure to join in the Pre-Order Sweepstakes for THE TRUTH ABOUT THE DEVLINS, where you have a chance to win prizes such as a Kindle, a cashmere throw or the Grand Prize of Mikimoto pearl earrings! Lisa will be giving away an exciting prize each week during her “Lisa Live!” That’s one prize each week for the eight weeks leading into the book’s publication on March 26, 2024!

Now in Paperback

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Ghosts of Harvard, which The Washington Post called “a sweeping and beguiling novel” as well as “a rich, intricately plotted thriller,” is Francesca Serritella’s debut novel.

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