Category: Holiday Ideas

My GMA “Advice Guru” Quest, Please Help

Hey there, Friends!
I’m back at you again, asking for your votes and Facebook “Likes” in my quest to be Good Morning America’s “Advice Guru.”A tweet now and then couldn’t hurt either, but no pressure.

I’m not too proud to beg at this point. Just tell me what you want in return; a foot rub, to borrow my clothes, to have me care for your aging parent or write your kid’s college application essay. I am not above groveling and pandering ‘cuz I know doing this during the holidays is a fun as hair removal. But think, if I get the job, I will stay out of your hair and send you swag from ABC, like t shirts and mugs and pictures of Sam Champion, the Weather Anchor.

Just click on this red button! Easy, right? Then click the Like box (if you’re a FB member, and who isn’t these days?) and scroll to the end of my advice and rate is as high as you dare without feeling like a total sell-out (a “4” rating would be worth a cuticle push from me.) You can send me your payback demands at the end of January, when they announce the winner.  Love, Vicki

Christmas Can’t Come Soon Enough!


Christmas comes “early” this year, meaning, according to my mother, that Thanksgiving is “late” and there are not quite four weeks separating the two most elaborate and stressful American holidays. “Bring it!” I say, because the anticipation is killing me.

It started when Halloween and the end of Daylight Savings Time were crammed into the same night. I may have gotten an extra hour to sleep the next morning, but I awoke to the screeching news that I only had 55 more shopping days till Christmas. As someone who occasionally relied on the “rhythm method” for birth control, I’ve got four kids to illustrate that I can lose track of at least thirty days without more ›

Why I Won’t Be Asking Santa for a Bodyguard This Christmas

Madonna bodyguard

Let’s not get distracted by asking why in the world I would ever even think I might need personal protection—my delusions are my own business. I’m just saying that, via some odd cosmic coincidence, bodyguards have been on my mind.

U2 performed in Southern California on Sunday and I scored a pre-show party pass. It wasn’t an excruciatingly discriminating guest list to my eye, but I was thrilled to be in a big tent with places to sit and tray-served champagne. Just as I was fluffing up with self-importance for sharing oxygen with everyone from Frank Gehry to Paris Hilton, I was nearly knocked to the floor by what looked like an NFL reject who had traded helmet and pads for a navy blue blazer and an earpiece.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve been collateral damage to the rapid ingress or egress of a VIP, so I knew the duck, roll and quick turn required to survive the blow AND see the special person who is in need of protection from me.  She was stunning—taller than her bodyguards—and well, nobody. Well, I’m sure she’s somebody to her children and famous husband, but no one who I could conceive of as being in imminent danger of more ›

Vicki Iovine – Girlfriends' Guides