By JANE LOTTER

CBS has announced its fall lineup. Among the new shows:

€ "Citizen Baines," a drama about a three-term U.S. senator who returns to his Seattle home when he's not reelected.

€ "Wolf Lake," a sci-fi drama about wolves living in human form in a Seattle suburb.

€ "The Ellen Show," in which Ellen DeGeneres plays a gay Internet executive who moves back to her small hometown.

So there we were getting all these new neighbors (except for dear Ellen, who was moving away) and I decided to throw a get-acquainted block party - although Bob kept calling it my "blockhead" party.

Anyway, comes the big day and the backyard was overflowing with colorful characters. The Wildfangs were there, of course, the whole pack of them. They had recently moved in next door and there were so many of them I couldn't keep their names straight. They were crouching on the lawn, not mingling, just getting up from time to time to pace in circles, and then digging in the dirt with their tongues hanging out. Bob remarked that they were eyeing our children in a spooky, predatory sort of way and I thought, well, they're just nervous.

Ellen had volunteered to bring the ground beef for the barbecue. She arrived late, explaining she'd tried to order groceries over the Internet but became confused when she discovered that HomeGrocer.com had been taken over by Webvan. That Ellen! For an Internet executive, she can be surprisingly clueless as to the complex workings of the World Wide Web!

"Anyway," she grinned, "I gave up and went to Safeway; it was quicker."

"Oh, Ellen," I said. "I wish you weren't leaving."

"Have to," she replied. "Now that the dot-coms are failing, all of us Internet executives - especially the gay ones - are being ordered back to our small hometowns."

She hauled several pounds of red meat over to the grill. The Wildfangs were positively salivating. Goodness, I thought, don't these individuals ever eat?

Just then I spotted tall, craggy Senator Baines and thought I'd go over and introduce myself. I was a little intimidated at the thought of meeting a genuine U.S. senator, so I took my cue from Jackie Kennedy in all those TV movies and lowered my voice to a girlish, conspiratorial whisper.

"Senator," I cooed, "so nice of you to attend our humble soiree."

"Call me Citizen Baines," he grumbled. "Better yet, call me Citizen. After serving three terms in the Senate - that's 18 years to the lay person - I didn't get reelected, so I've returned to this boring little backwater. And you can bet your boots I'm bitter about it. Darn bitter. By the way," he continued, examining the glass of white wine in his hand, "do you have any hard liquor?"

"I'll check," I said. "In the meantime, Citizen - a minor point, I'm sure - but I don't remember ever seeing your name on an election ballot. And I'm curious to know your political party." "That's still in development," Baines said, his face reddening. "Back story and all that. I'll have my people get back to you."

Suddenly there was a commotion and I turned to see the Wildfangs snarling and snapping and ripping raw beef out of Ellen's hands.

"We like it rare!" one of them growled.

"No, you mustn't!" Ellen screamed. "You'll get mad cow disease!"

Citizen Baines, by now somewhat tipsy, entered the fray. "Leave 'em alone," he yelled at Ellen. "It's their constitutional right to wolf down their food!"

The whole bunch of them began fighting and rolling around in the dirt.

"Bob! Bob! What shall we do?!" I asked in alarm.

"I knew this party was a bad idea," he declared, stepping over Ellen to serve himself some potato salad. "There's only one thing you can do now."

"Call the police?"

"Certainly not. These folks need professional psychological help. You'd better get 'Frasier.'" (