The Writer's Block

This week we are fortunate to have two amusing submissions, one from Lisa Fieg and one from her cousin, Phyllis Fieg.  Enjoy!

From the New York Times Metropolitan Diary about eighteen years ago, three entries submitted by Lisa Fieg:

1993
Dear Diary:
The place, Prime Burger Coffee Shop on East 51st Street. The time, lunch hour. I take a seat, locking myself in with the swing-around kindergarten tray when the waiter, who has served me many times before, spots me, then makes a mad dash to the pastry case for the last slice of coconut layer cake. He brings me the cake and we both breathe a sigh of relief.

Dear Diary:
The scene: an Upper East (Side restaurant).  Lisa Fieg hears a woman in the next booth ask the waitress for ranch dressing for her salad. A thoughtful pause before the waitress gives her suggestion."How about Let's Pretend Creamy Italian?" she asks. . . .

1992:
Dear Diary:
I was on the telephone with the Animal Medical Center in New York.

Me: Last night I brought my cat in around midnight, and on my way out the door, a distressed woman came in carrying a badly injured cat, and I'm calling to see how the cat is doing, if he lived.

Attendant: One moment, please . . . (back on the phone) . . . I'm sorry, but we can't tell you anything because you're not family.

The second entry is a fine limerick composed by Phyllis Fieg for her dad, V.P. Fieg, on his 56th birthday (that must have been some celebration -- two poems for the old man!), scanned and inserted below exactly as it appeared on that day in 1980 when it was presented to the birthday boy (who inscribed the date at the bottom in his own hand):