I have spent this morning frantically paging my ethicist, my analyst, and my ghostwriter, but they are all getting herbal wraps together. My personal chef is off today, and I had to make my own breakfast (I had a popsicle). What manner of torment does the Lord plan for me next?

You see, I am blocked. B-l-o-c-k-e-d. You’re a blockhead, Charlie Brown. No, it’s not something my colon therapist could fix — I am the picture of health in that department, thank you for asking. I just can’t finish a design to save my life. This has never happened before. My patented formula of waiting until the last minute and then being filled with divine inspiration has failed me miserably. I am used to being a person with Answers, but I seem to have killed my inner Lucy Van Pelt. Was it because I switched to Splenda? Upgraded to Creative Suite? Stopped drinking as much? I want you back, Know-It-All. Abuh buh buh buh. All I want! Abuh buh buh buh. All I need! You hot bitch.

In other news, Netflix is sidling up to me, swearing it will all be different this time. I wrote them a cordial reply, stating that I will happily sign up again if they invent 36-hour days and start stocking shitloads of porn. I hate you, Netflix. You mock me.

Speaking of mocking, I watched the TV show “Biggest Loser” the other night, wherein a group of tubby people are chained to treadmills and fed nothing but Vitamin Water. The person who loses the most weight gets some kind of prize. I think. I don’t know, because I glazed over during all those slow mo shots of roiling seas of fat running or doing pull-ups or whatnot. They also tempt the participants with trays of treats. I was thinking “It’s like Heather and I finally sold a TV show!” Sure, it’s deplorable exploitation, but it’s nice to know our demographic is finally “in.” I also get sick of those home makeover shows where they let unstylish people return to showplace manses, so I was thinking “they should really also fix these poor, ill-coiffed troglodytes before they are allowed to touch those Corian countertops.” And what do you know, FOX went and came up with “Make Over My Family.” They bulldoze the house, and everyone gets highlights and an under-the-sea themed bedroom. About ding-dang time. Stop reading my mind, television. Just stop.

My next decree: Extreme Makeover candidates should not have to go home to ugly loved ones, as keeping company with ugly people only drags one down. The surprise reveal will include everyone in the family getting teeth veneers and butt lifts, right down to the house pets. If this turns up on the air, I would like a whopping check.