Every time my parents tell me anything of substance, it’s always preceded by the statement:  “Now don’t blog about any of this …”

Seems my folks do not appreciate their always-entertaining commentary and/or antics to be fodder for the blogosphere.  I would whole-heartedly disagree.  My parents are comedy gold and they don’t even know it.

My dad didn’t appreciate the blog I wrote about how he’s always cold and dresses like Nanuck of the North.  He keeps the house at a toasty 82 degrees year-round.  He would beg to differ.  “You exaggerate so much people will start to think that!” he told me.  When I threatened to take a picture of him sleeping under 14 different, heavy blankets, comforters and duvets, he hid my camera.  “I can’t even see the clock over ‘the mountain’ of blankets,” said my mom.

Mountain – that’s funny shit.

Speaking of my mom, I told her I was hungry tonight and asked if we had any frozen pizzas in the house.  She said no.  A quick search of the three freezers (two ‘fridge-sized and one industrial-sized) turned up nothing.  I did, however, find an endless array of any other frozen product known to man.  Some were encased in freezer burn so thick I’m not sure what it was.  I took a picture so you could be the judge.  It was either blueberries or green beans or human fingers … I’m not quite sure.  My mom is a frozen food hoarder.  I’m gonna nominate her for that show.

I’ve explained to them countless times that my adoring public craves updates on them.  They remain unimpressed.  When I reminded them they raised me to be a smart, witty, award-winning writer and they should appreciate my musings, they shot back, “But you make us sound like kooks!”

Well, for the record, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  In 2012, I will let them write a blog about me … and will only edit for spelling or grammatical errors.  Everything else is fair game.  God help me.

Most of the people I know are somehow involved in the television industry.  Some are good friends, some are archenemies.  Whatever pre-conceived notions you may have about us, they’re usually wrong.  We’re not all do-gooders.  And, yes, we’re likely vain … so get over it.  And if you’re expecting for us to rip open our shirt à la Clark Kent to reveal a super-toned Superman costume underneath, you’re delusional.  (Although it IS a hot fantasy … and role playing IS fun.)

Here are some things you may want to think about before dating us:

5) No, we’re not as important as we think we are … but we’ll never let on that we think that.  Here’s the deal:  Television is sexy.  It beats your job of sitting in a cubicle answering phones from 9-5 and being an office drone.  We get our hair and make-up done and say important things like, “We’ll be right back … AFTER THIS!”  And while that doesn’t make us Mother Teresa – it usually trumps anyone’s ace.  You need to embrace our sense of superiority because we’re not going to get over it – at least in public anyway.

4) If you lie about something, we’ll find out sooner than later.  Here’s a perfect example: my roommate is a bulldog investigative reporter.  If I want to get the low-down on you or any of your crony friends, all I have to do is bat my eyelashes at him.  Plus, I’m tight with countless Public Information Officers on the police force.  We all are.  It’s our job.  When you come clean about your weird foot fetish, we’ll act semi-surprised for your benefit, but we already knew about it weeks ago.

3) The ego has landed … at our doorstep.  The nanosecond we walk in the door to our house, we usually turn off our TV persona and become common folk.  Typically, I don’t want to discuss what famous person I met today or how great the photo shoot was because I’m too busy putting on my fat pants and eating Häagen-Daaz right out of the carton.  It’s pedestrian, I know.  And I wouldn’t want it any other way.   Let me decompress and then “I’ll be right back … AFTER THIS!”

2)  TV people, anchorpeople and on-air people usually gravitate towards one another.  That means unless you join our ranks, you’ll usually be standing around bored at a party while we engage in vicious shoptalk.  Journalists gossip, snivel, complain and kvetch.  If you’re dating us, you’ll soon learn which one of our brethren has a drinking problem, has packed on too much weight or wears so much make-up they resemble a clown.  You need to go to your grave with that information … or else it’s over between us.  Even worse?  We’ll likely shun you.

1) Anything you say or do … anything you may mention in passing or mumble in your sleep … becomes fodder for us.  Since we never know where the next big story idea is coming from, we’re usually all ears.  By nature, we’re inquisitive – so don’t act all high and mighty when we want to do a story on weird foot fetishes.  Of course we won’t feature you — duh.  As TV personalities, we want to keep our private lives PRIVATE.  But we will pick your brain on which one of your weirdo friends we can cajole in to doing an interview.

So there you have it, folks.  There are a lot of us TV peeps who are single and ready to mingle.  We bring a lot to the table – including our mega-watt smiles, perfectly-coiffed hair and the fact we always smell like sandalwood or cotton candy.   We’re typically passionate, exuberant and love sparkling conversation – provided we’re talking about us.  Feel free to ask us out.  I’m totally there.  I can only polish my five Emmys so many times before I’m bored out of my ever-lovin’ mind.