I didn’t get laid. Get your minds out of the gutter folks. I wouldn’t introduce myself that way. This isn’t a “She’s My Cherry Pie” blog. No, I mean I just scored about another 15-25 min to write my first blog. The Columbus Crew are currently playing in some playoff thing, have yet to score and my husband wants to finish watching it despite a solid 22 minutes into the Walking Dead. WD can wait, I need to write.
So who am I? “Why I’m a Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz as you can plainly see”- Dr. Seuss, Dr. Seuss’s ABC, 1963. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I have 2 sons and Dr. Seuss books were really the only ones I used to be able to enjoy, except the 400 page novel, Green Eggs and Ham, which I would be envisioning the slicing of my wrists just before Sam got him to eat the damn eggs and ham. “Their spoiled! Don’t eat them!” I would secretly cry to the trippin’ high hot mess thing the Dr. Seuss artist created.
Getting back to who am I. Well, I guess I’m a writer now. I’ve written about 4 books. My direct line to the publishing world is buried in a project that I hope all of you will hear about over the next year. I asked him if I should pursue an agent, publishing on my own, etc. and he said I should wait on him since it’s virtually impossible to get your foot in the door on your own. Normally this would be the point in time where all of you are saying “Don’t listen to him. He’s stringing you along.” Alas, I know he isn’t. I know because his mother is my neighbor and my friend. She would kick his ass if he didn’t follow through with his commitment to help me. I hate not taking the bull by the horns and figuring it out on my own so until that ball is rolling, you are stuck with this blog.
My publishing friend in which we will call D, said something that really stuck one day: funny always finds us. He couldn’t be more right. I had the same philosophy, only I always say: If irony had a job, he would be a comedian. I don’t know why I made irony a man.
I am 30 something, married with 2 perfect sons that drive me to drink Cabernet just about every night. It’s not uncommon to roll over the next morning and find 26 “likes” on Facebook to which my blood turns cold, my face hot and in my mind I am screaming ‘FUCK! What did I write?’ I find myself deleting about 1/3 of the posts. I even received the following in a private message one morning:
Hey, I think this picture is inappropriate and should not be on Facebook. Would you please take it down?
I’m not saying it was an image of me feeding the homeless but it sure as hell wasn’t of me kicking kittens.
Well damn it, the Crew game is over and I have to go downstairs. After we get all of these formalities out of the way we can have some fun and I can assure you I have stories to tell. Good night. 🙂