Sure if I’ll be able to sleep tonight, or actually ever again

Seriously.

Okay so I’m a bit of an insomniac and I’m still up at 1:41. I’m listening, as I often do to an audible book by the master of creepy brilliance himself and my hero, Stephen King, I realize that this probably doesn’t help.

Also I should probably admit that I’m sitting in my florescent lit kitchen looking like the 1950′s blonde Hitchcock would have been proud of. I’m eating artichoke hearts with my fingers, guiltily and with great pleasure, as artichoke hearts from the can should be eaten.

Suddenly the phone rings.

I look down in surprise. My first thought is, is that it’s my friend I was supposed to text her when I got home okay.

‘Oh damn’

I think

‘I totally forgot. She was worried about me’

but the caller ID says

BLOCKED

Now I probably shouldn’t have answered it.

I shouldn’t have answered it, but I figured by the fact it said

BLOCKED

it was a campaigner and I wanted to give them a piece of my sleepless, tired mind.

‘How dare they call me when I should be asleep!’

Really, I realize that my answering the phone was equivalent to a blonde who’s alone in a mansion she’s house sitting and here’s a strange noise and calls out

Hello?

Then goes towards the noise, often without even the benefit of a knife.

‘I guess I’ll go investigate down in the basement then, in this little pink slip’

Hello?

I know, I know I shouldn’t have answered my phone. But I did.

‘Hello?’

I asked more statement than question, ready to give the crazy campaigner hell. I mean I’m a die-hard democrat but really enough is enough.

…..

Hello?

I asked again more tentatively,

Then a man’s voice answered me.

‘Hello?’

it said, almost mocking me.

‘Hello?’

I asked again and then

‘Who is this?’

There was a long silence and then the voice answered.  I really, really wish it hadn’t.

It’s me.

And on the word me, the voice dropped (I’m not kidding) twenty octaves. The ‘me’ was inhumanly low, and gravely, hissing and literally sounded like my worst nightmare. Like not a human being.

I hung up.

I will be the first to admit that a vivid imagination can be a wonderful thing.
My vivid imagination gotten me through some pretty hideous dates. However, my vivid imagination can be a truly hideous thing.

Please also know that I’m writing a horror novel featuring a demonic serial killer and there are a series of unknown phone calls that the heroine receives.

Fun.

To date I’ve checked my cupboard and under my bed, though if I actually found someone there I’m not sure how I would handle it. It would be awkward to say the least.

I keep returning to the way the voice said ‘me.’

I have NEVER, NEVER, NEVER in my life, heard a voice like that.

 I really wish you had been a campaigner

My secret thought is that it was my novel’s character calling me.

So, how’s the book going, Sophie? Oh come on, it’s me. 

I don’t know if I’ll be sleeping tonight.
Maybe, with the light on.

Unless this thing wants to play ball.

making out with anyone tonight

though I really, really want to.

All the signs are right. My hair is long and blonde and I’ve had about three glasses of red wine. 

I’m out to ‘party’. And by ‘party’ I mean ‘make out’ and by ‘make out’ I mean ‘smooch’ and by ‘smooch’ I mean this

maybe less ‘stash though, I mean I’m not in Brooklyn right?

Only thing is there is no one to party with. 

I don’t require much, I’ll have you know. The most I ask is; a PHD, an ability to code, a height of of 6’1 or above, multi lingual (that’s not a euphemism you perverts) a decent smelling nape of the neck, ability to operate heavy machinery while under the influence, and then the divine thrill of knowing they’ll never HAVE to operate heavy machinery under the influence due to their snooty non physical jobs, not too hairy, incredibly successful at their chosen career, large enough to make me feel petite, a passionate lover with an adequate to large to massive penis.And generally kind, loving, funny, warm, sweet, confident and phenomenal. 

Is that so much to ask for?????

I mean Jesus! 

Yes?

Oh Sorry Jesus. Go back to sleep.

(okay so while Jesus is sleeping let me just say that while he’s a great kisser and a nice Jewish boy the man can’t code for s**t.)

Unfortunately My Child I Cannot Help You There, Go And Ask An Apple “Genius” Or A Tekserve Guy. In Fact Stick With Tekserve Those Apple Guys Are Dicks.)

So instead of making out I came home and tried to sublimate and ate olives, and some pieces of prosciutto and some marinaded mushrooms. 

I’m eating Italian

Nice boys, but no physicists. I feel for them. I really do.

Now I’m going to bed. 

 

Sigh.

It’s selfish people, selfish, not to present yourselves for potentially making out with me. Like it’s selfish for you not to have studied the art of masseuse when my shoulders often ache with tension.

I am not this smiling woman and neither do the hands massaging her belong to any of my friends

Selfish.

Makes me think I’ll have to finish my book or something. 

 

 

  

going to rant or bitch about Valentine’s Day

 

or about the men who ask you out for a drink, and two hours later when you’ve eaten bread and spent over sixty dollars on a shared meal, advise you about dating other men “have you tried J-date?” and then inform you that they have a girlfriend.

No sir, not me. I’m not going to talk about that.

I’m not going to talk about how all the shops put ridiculous little hearts in the window just to rub it IN YOUR FACE that Valentine’s Day has arrived.

That’s right, even the butcheries. Pink little hearts dangling next to huge raw,bloody skinned sheep.

Just another thing I won’t rant  about today.
(Actually I secretly think it makes the sheep look cute.)

I’m not going to talk about how single men and women have  to make plans ages in advance in a grim way just so they’re doing something on the day taken over by Hellmark and not look like the sad, lonely desperate unhappy emotionally crippled people their coupled friends secretly hope they will be.

I’m not going to talk about the insane rush for restuarants, even mediocre ones, or the upsurge in condom purchase, or what eating purile chocolate can do to your liver.

Nah. Not me.

I’m especially not going to talk about how the women in New York, the smart, gorgeous, hard working, kick ass beauties are forced to meet (read date) and mate (read eight minutes) the men of flabby faces,  of sagging guts and slow wits and the little wizened souls of raisins just becuause God Forbid the smart, gorgeous, hard working, kick ass beauties of New York might want children one day and THEN WHERE WILL THEY BE? I’LL TELL YOU!   THEY’LL BE CHILDLESS AND ALONE AND BROKEN AND UNATTRACTIVE AND WHERE WILL THEIR FANCY SHMANCY DREAMS OF A CAREER AND SUCCESS HAVE GOTTEN THEM THEN? HUH? NO WHERE, THAT’S WHERE

Huh, oh sorry…my mind….it drifts….

So instead of a rant here are some fun and non bitchy facts about the sadists, I mean the sentimentalists favorite holiday, known as Valentine’s Day!

FUN FACT NUMBER ONE

1. a  Teachers receive more valentine cards than anyone else, even children.

1.b  Today a starting attorney earns $160,000 while a starting teacher earns around $45,000

1.c  Sixty-Two (62)  percent of Teachers have to take on secondary jobs to supplement their income.

AWWWWWDOOOORABLE!

FUN FACT NUMBER TWO

2. More than 650 million valentine cards are exchanged by children from ages 6-10 each year. Most of these cards are bought in the last 6 days leading up to Valentine’s day.

2.b A nice card (based off of the popular tv show Modern Family) saying “Free Hugs” can be bought for as low as 5.99!

2.c According to the non profit Feed My Starving Children it costs the overwhelming price of 24 c That’s (Twenty Four Cents)  to provide a meal for a starving child AND if you actually had the audacious sum of $36 you could feed five children for a month.

But imagine how many Modern Family Free Hugs card you could get!!!! 

FUN FACT NUMBER THREE

3. Each year the city of Verona Italy receives more than 1000 valentine’s addressed to Shakespeare’s Juliet.

It really is amazing how much affection a dead fictional character can attract.

3.b As of Nov 30th 2011 U.S. Troop Casualties – 4,486 US troops; 98% male. 91% non-officers; 82% active duty, 11% National Guard; 74% Caucasian, 9% African-American, 11% Latino. 19% killed by non-hostile causes. 54% of US casualties were under 25 years old. 72% were from the US Army

It is really is amazing how little affection real dead solider can attract……

FUN FACT FOUR 

4.a It was once believed that if a woman saw a flying robin on Valentine’s day she would end up getting married to a sailor. If a sparrow was the bird she saw she would end up marrying a man that was poor and live a happy life, if she saw a goldfinch then she was to marry a man that was a millionaire. One can only wonder who she would marry if she saw a crow.

(By this stage she was so desperate she married the first rat she saw. Sometimes Wall Street isn’t so bad. hahaha.)

4 b Screw the birds, lady,  have you read this interesting book called The Rules?

4c In 2001 the followup book The Rules for Marriage: Time-Tested Secrets for Making Your Marriage Work was released in the midst of Fein’s (the head writer’s) legal separation from her husband to whom she had been married for sixteen years.Fein married for the second time in 2008; she had followed The Rules to attract her second husband.

4.d Or maybe just stick to the birds. Warning-the goldfinch is a bit of a playah though

FUN FACT NUMBER FIVE

5. a More than 9 million pet owners buy gifts for their pets for Valentine’s day. Now that is what can be called real puppy love.

5.b Four million cats and dogs—about one every eight seconds—are put down in U.S. shelters each year.

I’m not going to make a pun or a joke here here because some vegetarian buddhist would come and beat the shit out of me.

FUN FACT NUMBER SIX

6.a It is estimated that 15% of the women in the United States who receive flowers for Valentine’s day send them to themselves. There are no figures that tell how many of these women are married, single or in a relationship.

6. b This means that close  110 MILLION roses will be purchased and delivered around the US today. That’s a lot of dead flowers so us dumb bitches can feel better about ourselves and the fact that we don’t have a maaaaan. (Lesbians can’t be  this pathetic, I refuse to accept it.)

6. c According to an article in The New York Observer  that quoted Richard Florida, In New York’s metropolitan area, single women outnumbered single men by more than 210,000,

It explains a fair amount concerning the men that my friends and I sometimes date.

So no ranting or bitching or misery. Really, go and enjoy yourselves. No seriously, on this day of romance and love all I ask is this one thing. As you take your beloved’s hand and  reach over to look into his or her eyes to kiss him or her and tell her he or she’s the only one for you take a moment of silence and remember that

WHITNEY HOUSTON IS DEAD. WHITNEY HOUSTON IS DEAD. WHITNEY HOUSTON IS DEAD. SHOW SOME DAMN RESPECT FOR ONCE IN YOUR PATHETIC, SHALLOW LIFE AND REMEMBER THAT THE QUEEN OF POP IS DEAD. 

hope you have a sweet and  happy fluffy love filled day. 

Bye Bye.

the birthday girl anymore

so rub it in my face, why don’t you?

You think it’s okay not to wish me ‘Happy Birthday’, or give me presents, or touch base and say something funny, sweet, and/or touching just because it’s February 7th instead of February 6th?

Just because I actually wasn’t ‘born’ today you think it’s okay to get away with that kind of pathetic, half- assed, pathetic behavior?

You thought wrong.

Oh I admit it. Facebook was crazy yesterday. Crazy with well wishers, and good greetings and salutations. Everyone wanted a piece of me. A piece of the ‘birthday girl’ Everyone was hopping up on that ‘ol birthday wagon, getting their two cute and adorable and caring greetings in. Everyone was all ‘liking’ my birthday pics and everything. Thumbs up, oh yeah.

Twenty-four(24) measly, fleeting, brief and ephemeral hours. That’s how long it lasted

The fact is if  you were the so called ‘friends’, ‘loved ones’ and, ‘family’ you claim to be (DNA or not), you’d be wishing me Happy Birthday EVERY DAY OF THE YEAR.

But oooooh noooooo. It was all love and kindness and incredible gifts and drinks and more drinks and hugs and kisses and ‘I’ll take you to lunch’ ‘let me buy you dinner’ and ‘that’s on me’ and smily faces and awesome, thoughtful messages and even cards in the mail and  then….what?! What?  Silence. Not a single MENTION of my birthday. It’s like

‘Oh, wasn’t that yesterday?’

And to think you kiss your mother with that mouth.

Aren’t you happy that I’m alive?
Then act like it.

Go on, I dare you.

I dare you to dream.
I dare you to be different.
I dare not to be a sheep for one day of your boring-pedantic-cookie cutter-follow-the-rules-everyman-conventional life.
I dare you to take the time and trouble and wish me a ‘Happy Birthday’ tomorrow, when it ISN’T my birthday.

Go ahead and make my non-birthday day!

pregnant

but my friend is.

I haven’t really taken in the full implications of everything yet. Certain things are clearly different. I hate the mornings now even more than I previously did. If morning sickness equals ‘sick of the morning’ ”Really, really sick of the morning like hating it’ we definitely know who’s friend is pregnant.

Mine.

Of course it’s early days still but I  have to say that I can’t believe how impolite and rude people have been. A couple of times I’ve actually HAD TO ASK people to get up in the subway so I could have a seat.

‘Sorry lady’ I’ll say to the old woman ‘but my friend is pregnant, so I think we both know what the right, and the American thing is to do. ‘

Then I’ll stand patiently yet firmly until she finally gets to her feet.

She has a cane after all.

I do find myself strangely emotional at times. Like recently when my mother called to find out how my book was going. I really surprised with my level of rage.

‘I’ll finish it when I finish it!’ I scream. ‘It’s only been a year after all!’

I calm down and call her back, the computer’s now cracked screen barely noticeable

‘Sorry’ I say, ‘but you know you’re going to have to be more sensitive to the fact that my friend is pregnant.’ ‘In a couple of months she’ll be a mother too. You have to respect that.’

I’m also emotional whenever I have to pay bills, the rent or dealing with Sallie Mae. Or going to gym.

The cravings have started early. I  find the need to eat all sorts of things; things like fried chicken, dark chocolate, french fries, brie cheese, sushi and steak tatare  even more than I used to. The good thing is that clearly my body is telling me that I need these things so I no longer have to feel guilty.

This helps when eating pad thai throughout the day.

Around 5:00-12:00 p.m I also begin craving red wine, whiskey and any cocktail that has egg whites in it. I drink these too.

Before you judge me realize that
a) America tends to be over zealous on this type of thing-’it’s all a communist plot’
b)my pregnant friend’s body clearly needs me to drink them
c) look at the French, apart from having the bone structure of small birds and the tendency to overuse scarves, they usually turn out okay.

I have yet to be complimented on my glow but I know it’s only a matter of time.

Man am I hungry.

so sure I’m going to survive this relaxing family holiday

it’s because I’m extremely sensitive. Extremely, extremely sensitive. I know that I’m sensitive because my mother, my sister or father will not hesitate to inform me so every half an hour or on hour if I have forgotten for even a moment. I admit it, I am overly sensitive. I’m sensitive when my my sister turns off the light in the room while staring right at me, I’m sensitive while my mother yells at me to CALM DOWN or my father and I battle over bathroom towels. I’m so sensitive that I might just take a massive butcher knife before this holiday is over and show them what real sensitivity looks like.

pretty, so pretty and so red.

And it’s not just me, the weather is also sensitive.

(Don’t tell her I told you but actually the weather is being a number one (#1)bi-polar hobag)

It’s raining so we decide not to go to the beach and lurk at home, then it stops raining so fling on our swim suits, get creamed up (shut up not like that) leap into the car and then drive to the beach where it immediately begins to rain again then we drive home and my head begins to ache and my stomach hurts because I know what lies ahead.

Trapped by the rain and wild for something to do, my family makes me undergo the ultimate cruelty and unmitigated agony.

I scream that I’ll talk, tell them everything they need to know but it’s no use. I can hear the mesmerizing goose flesh crawling chinkety chink chink chink  noises coming closer as the foul little green bag is brought out , the thick dull pound of the board as it hits the table, the agonized squeak as plastic counters are forced whiningly across wood and suddenly  I am pushed into a chair the world begins to spin

‘No!’ I call out hoarsely ‘I beg you I’ll tell you anything!’ ‘NO FOR GOD’S SAKE HAVE MERCY, HAVE PITY ON MY SOUL PLEASE PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING YOU SAY!’

but it’s too late

Scrabble

Or as Mahatmah Gandhi liked to say ‘the shittiest game on the face of the planet’

I truly and utterly (ten points)deteste (eight points) scrabble (fourteen points) with every fibre (nine points) of my qi (nine hundred and thirty two points when placed on a triple word)

Although my scrabble playing sentiment would be best summed up by the following seven letters

so no lik

I try to put words down ‘screw’ and ‘evil’ and ‘frog’

I was told to save my ‘s’s-actually I’m told to save that quite often through life.

The saddest part is the the  glowing and supportive praise I receive from my otherwise nonsensitive critical family which makes me realize how truly challenged I am by this game.

Oh look Sophie put down ‘frog’

‘Well done Sophie!’ beams my mother  a player  of ‘exile’ ‘luxury’ and ‘azure’

‘Frog is a good word!’

‘You play great!’  Says my sister inflictor of ‘genuflect’ ‘longue’ and ‘xenophobia’

Frog! Well done!’ adds my father who’s gentle use of obituary, arbitrary and zeal (on the triple word) can kick our s’s any day of the week.

Family at their finest.

Added to this I still basically have tuberculosis (self diagnosed and me with only a MFA) which is a blast to bring to a summer holiday at the the beach. Let me tell you nothing like a hot tan, sexy bikini and a wracking and endless cough for a light hearted and fun filled conversational starter. For best results cough heavily into the inquirer’s face. They’ll just eat that up.

But as Nietchze that famous party animal once said

‘Life’s a beach and then you DIE hahahahahaha!’

The point is for you to stop looking at me like that you judgemental jerk, or the next person I visit with the butcher knife is you, unfeeling schmuck.

After all, I’m sensitive.

worried about buying presents at all this year

that’s cause a) I’m a genius and b) I’ve cracked the code,
(see a) for further references)

Okay so  apart from being a sick,broke chick (which always ensues in romantic and comedic hilarity in a movie directed by John Hughes  but in real life it just means that you’re  a chick who’s sick and broke) I’m a sick, broke chick who HATES shopping. Yes, it’s true. I hate shopping so much that I don’t even like to shop FOR MYSELF. That’s how much I hate it.

At the same time I love good presents.

Getting them makes me feel good inside and out. Pleased with life and hopeful for humanity.  I’ve worked out through the years and also see reference a) that the best way to get good presents is to give good presents-which would be SHOPPING I know bummer and quandary right????

But listen up.

I have discovered that I can give the most kick ass presents without leaving my house!

Awesome right?

All I needed was whatever I found in my house and I think you’ll find the results are pretty flawless.

first option
DEMONIC AND CREEPY FRUIT

all you need is

1. (one) 1 red onion
2. two (2) apples
3.  one (1) orange
4.  one (1)lemon
5. one (1) scotch tape
6. several sharpies

Then we have;

AMBER THE ABDUCTED APPLE

(give it to the friend you secretly suspect to be a freak, or a hero whatever)

STAN THE CREEPY HERPES MAN

(give this to your most whorish friend and tell them to look at him sitting on their dresser before they leave the apartment on a Saturday night)

LENORA THE SENSITIVE ARTIST

She came here with a dream. She’s many layers, complicated, not getting any younger (don’t give this to your friend, let’s be honest, you know who this one is for…)

PINKY THE LEMON WHO MIGHT BE A MOUSE

(give this one to your friend who needs a hug but is too unattractive to get one)

ALEX THE UNCLOCKED ORANGE

(give this one to friend who might still read or has aspirations to read or just sounds really really pretentious)

I’m not done yet!

CUTE BURLAP GARLIC CARRYING POUCH WITH FIRM YET POLITE WARNING TO VAMPIRES

You’ll need;

1) one(1) little burlap pouch
2) one (1) scotch tape
3) twenty (20) paperclips
4) half a clove of garlic that you found in your fridge
5) the sharpies you used before hand-love those sharpies

They might tell you they’re not into tru blood but you know that’s a damn lie. So let their lies be pretty. Pretty, pretty lies and garlic pouches. It doesn’t get better. Complete with paperclip chain and half a garlic clove
Okay it does get better. Because I bet you’re all thinking that’s a lot Sophie but not all of us friends are Christians! Well if you thought that, you thought wrong. Almost insultingly wrong.

Feast your eyes on

THE HUNNUPACK!

1. chinese noodles they give you with your soup
2. several (3-5) packets of soy and hot sauce

(Snacks for when you’re watching Woody Allen surrounded by fellow jewish sufferers. Give this to your friends who are converting to Judaism or secretly want to be Christian-it evens out)

IRONIC HIPSTER LOVE VASE

1) empty ginger ale schweppes bottle
2) fake flower
It looks all ‘found art from Williamsburg but the best part is that I bought that in Astoria, Queens-extra irony!!!!

UBER CHIC TRAVEL PACK

1. A bunch (3-5) of hotel stolen shampoos, conditioners and bath foam,
2.one(1) ziplock sandwich bags
3.one(1) ribbon

For the friend who smells a little stinky sometimes because they’re always traveling and saving countries and have no time to wash

SALAD DRESSING

1. One(1)  cool packaged salad dressings-tasty but with a low caloric count

For a friend who might have some eating issues…or not.

finally, but I could go on and on and I know you want me to but I’m sick geez okay

THE ROLL THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

1.One (1) a toilet roll!
2. Five (5) ancient candy canes

everyone is going to love this present and I have to say that it’s also really useful when you’re forced to shop for lame unthoughtful presents and they never have enough toilet paper in the starbucks.

Don’t worry about thanking me, just give me something great.

or so help me I’m sending them after you

ho, ho, ho.

going to text you tonight

but I wish I could.

Tonight it’s raining. I don’t know if it’s raining where you are. I know it’s raining because I can hear the drops on my air conditioner and sometimes against my window and finally against the ground.

I also know it’s been raining because I had to walk in the rain. I had to walk to pick up some egg drop soup which comforts and depresses me at the same time. Like family.

I’ve been sick and have  spent this week at home, mostly in bed and I think it’s shredded apart what shreds of sanity I have left.

I can’t seem to get past chapter 13 and if I can’t get past chapter 13 then I can’t go on to chapter 14, and then 15, then 16 all the way up to chapter 30. And if I can’t rewrite the book to be as phenomenal as the first seventy pages then I can’t meet the agent  and if I can’t meet the agent then how will he immediately sign me up and offer me a huge advance and start getting twitchy about the movie rights and how will they manage to sell it to a publishing house who will put all other projects aside a ‘stop the presses!’ if you will and immediately use all their attention and determination to make the book the biggest, hairiest hugest best seller ever.

If this doesn’t happen then what will my publicists have to work with? The public must not be denied! How will I be able give a phenomenal interview for Vanity Fair (while still posing sexily)? I’m open and lovely and witty  but  despite this I still possess a certain aura of mystique (not like the X MEN  Mystique jesus you nut) no I mean a certain  je ne sais quoi if you will, which I manage to cling on to and  manage to clamber up  into becoming the newest, lastest, craziest writing superstar…..who doesn’t live in Brooklyn.

Within my phenomenally charming revenge interview everyone in my life whoever mistreated me whether it was in 4th grade or last week (with that evil subway bitch) will be brought to justice. They will pretend not to care  but will long and long to be in my good graces once again.

Ironically all I will long for is for a single reconciliation.

So we will both go through our different lives, and I can only hope to run into you one day, when you are happy or at least near enough and I am happy or at least near enough. Enough to exchange smiles and wish each other well and be the polite civilized human beings so that nothing gets too crazy and then we’ll walk on.

and we’ll pretend how I never wanted to text you tonight

we were always good that way.

a raging alcoholic

but I could kill for a glass of wine right now.

(Shakes fist) If only it weren’t for these pesky antibiotics that is, dogarn it!

okay everyone, okay

You know what else would be good? You know what would feel just about perfect, what with winter on its snowy way and the holidays jingling around the corner?

Why, a  job!
(Shakes fist) If only it weren’t for this pesky downward spiraling economy that’s gone to  pure sheer unadulterated heck, that is!

And since we’re on this chipper trail, you know what else? You know what else would taste mighty good around now?

Why, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream!

If only that shit didn’t make you fat.

sorry.

And now down to business.

I know that many of you were concerned by Jeff Eugenides’s seemingly cold and distant treatment of me. Even in the face of my lovely and non stalkery emails, his only answer came back loudly and clearly ..silence.

Concern poured in from as far as wherever people were sitting when writing to me via facebook and twitter. I’m guessing pretty far.

Some friends asked me warm natured questions such as ‘how’s Jeff?’ Some showed their support by ‘thumbs upping’ my link or sharing a powerful capslock statements of admiration such as YEAH JEFF EUGENIDES! AWESOME!

Another  friend took it to the next level by asking me if Jeff Eugenides was perhaps a metaphor for something else I was missing in my life.

Deep, Kevin. Deep.

Well, Jeff is fine, and not in a metaphorical way. I know this because  he texted me today. 

Yes my little friends, while yours truly (me)was humbly sitting in her ophthalmological  appointment patiently waiting while for her pupils to dilate (and if that doesn’t sound sexy then I don’t know what does) she received his heavenly communication.

I would tell you what it said…..

but that’s between Jeff and myself.

Go and get your own Pulitzer Prize winning writer to text you.

I was much relieved. Jeff still cares….about my mind.

Frankly I needed the lift. I’ve been ill (hence the antibiotics) coughing in a way that guarantees me a seat on the subway and feeling bleak in general. Even my post was sick which is why I had to take it down before it infected other posts with its lameness. Though two friends were kind enough to say that they dug it. Thank you guys, I would hug you but you would be sorry if I did.

I don’t have much more to say other than this update and the fact that I’m missing all my friends, booze, ice cream, a job, even people….

Being sick sucks balls.

butter balls, geez guys, whaddaya  think I meant?!

going to make a big thing about this, but Jeff Eugenides doesn’t want me for my body

He wants me for my mind.

And that’s all he wants, because he has a family and some lovely poodles of his own.

Let’s get this clear I met the author Jeff Eugenides (author of Middlesex, Virgin Suicides and that other book he just wrote? Oh yes The Marriage Plot) at some or other conference called the BLAH (alright it was called BEA Book Expo America who cares) which means that I got to sit almost all the way at the back, chew on a stale bagel and listen to him, Diane Keaton, Charlaine Harris and Mindy Something (she’s on the Office) talk about their new up and coming books.

Afterwards I went up to Jeff (people who have had a fourteen(14) email interchanges with him get to call him Jeff )he was kind of standing back to  let the Charlaine Harris’ fans who were bending down on the copies of the latest True Blood to kiss her pinky toes) and told him I admired his work.
Which I do.

Jeff Eugenides’s work is disturbing, arousing and melecholic,and life changing. Like riding the 7 train back to Queens at two in the morning.

some special times were had in here

We chatted for a little bit and then I went on my way. Later I got an email and here I want to make this clear and shall use capslock for emphasis and not craziness

JEFF EUGENIDES CONTACTED ME BY REMEMBERING MY NAME AND FINDING MY WEBSITE AS A RESULT.

He said it was the FIRST TIME he had written to a website.

Please note that not only are there no sexy pics on my website, apart from me wearing a starwars shirt (which admittedly drives nerds insane). Instead of hot and lavacious pics are MY VARIOUS WRITING SAMPLES.

which you can read if you bother to visit my website too. cough cough.

Jeff Eugenides wrote as only a Pulitzer Prize winning writer can write.

Hello. please write

He also wrote Nice meeting you. Hope to keep in touch.

don’t you dare try to find other meanings to that or I’ll hunt you down.

Anyway I wrote back in ecstasy (he is one of my favorite writers) and then he replied and we were going to meet for either a drink or dinner or a lunch and talk about the writing process (WHICH IS NOT A EUPHAMISM) He had even suggested a restaurant but fate in the form of a previous invitation I had for honoring my cousin (Hey Ruthie, I know you’ll be reading this) and him trying to find various book covers, de slime pools and going over proofs set us apart.

Jeff said he was very disappointed and said we’d plan to meet later after his trip to Europe and various book tours.

Today a journalist (I won’t mention names, you know who you are Evan Hughes) who had interviewed him for an article made a quip insinuating that Jeff Euginedes wrote to me and wanted to meet merely because of my luscious lusciousness

it’s just a kitchen curtain I swear it.

To which I respond

Bitter much Mr Journalist?

Let me say that the Jeff I got to know over those fourteen(14) email exchanges (including one phone text )would never abandon his family and poodles so callously  He’s a good guy. He’s got class.  And is it so completely crazy to assume that I actually might have something to offer literary wise other than my beautiful smile?

it makes the very atmosphere go quaky but still…

I don’t often take offense at lame sexist cracks made at hot blondes but cereal people? That’s like totes sexist.

I was deeply disturbed by this ‘joke’

A joke you say? Made by a male writer?  Ha ha ha!

and went to write another email to Jeff.

and now we must wait and pray to the feminist goddess Diana to have my back on this one.

Ah-Woman.

Oy vey.