Probably won't be included in the press release...

The always wonderful Denise at Flamingo House Rules wrote a great review of Off the Beaten (Subway) Track that made me laugh my ass off as much as the book made her laugh her ass off.

My favorite line: "The penis jokes in the book - awesome."

Now, if only I could convince the publishing folks to include that in a reviews section on the press release...

(By the way, if anyone is interested in doing a blog book tour, I'm so up for it! Also, I'd forever be grateful if readers could post reviews on their blogs - which I would of course link to - as well as on Amazon. My friend/agent says it is critical to do so.)

Buzz Off

Husband returned from his trip to Los Angeles and Las Vegas last night/early morning. As we went to bed, we traded stories about our respective trips.

"I got a free vibrator!" I told him. It was dark, so I couldn't make out the exact expression on his face, but he seemed to be pretending to frown and holding in a laugh.

"So you're replacing me?" he wondered.

"Not all of you, silly! Just part of you..."

"Hey!" he protested, tickling me and laughing.

Ah, good times. I forgot to tell him about the four boxes of Merci chocolate in the fridge. Hope he doesn't get the wrong idea while I'm at class tonight.

Mmmmm.... Mars Bars!

Yesterday I ate a Mars Bar. It's not one of my original stock in which I brought back from London in March or even from the second batch a friend gave me in April when he stayed with us for two short nights. Instead, I purchased it at a British shop in that gray area between Greenwich Village and Chelsea two weeks ago. I figured I could keep in the fridge until I heard back from New School about whether or not I'll be part of the class of 2010.

It turns out that the Tarot card reader I visited in early March was correct: I am indeed attending the New School in the fall!!! The call came today yesterday at 5:15 PM from the admissions office. I'm nervous as hell, but also excited. Whew! What a trip!

Speaking of trips, the Tarot reader's other prediction involved the chance to travel extensively or even live in another country in the next year. That seemed even less likely than getting into New School, so I didn't really think about it. Yet this too shall come to pass it seems: Husband's company asked him to move to London for four years. The relocation is to take place in March 2009. It is an amazing career move for him. When I didn't think I was going to get into an MFA program, I was nervous about moving, but pleased to have easy access to Mars Bars. I figured that I could apply to writing programs over there and keep my fingers crossed that I'd get in. We plan on renting a two bedroom flat, so there is plenty of room for visitors. (Hint, hint.)

Clearly, the New School thing is a wonderful complicating factor. For now, I plan to attend the first year of classes, then join Husband in London for the summer. I'll return to NYC for the second year. Hopefully, he'll be coming to NYC for work frequently and I'll get to go see him in London during school breaks. The thought of all this is scaring the shit out of me, though.

To put it mildly, there's a lot going on here - multiple tentacles of happenings, reaching out and grabbing. Lots of good and interesting things, but still, it is hard for me to absorb it all, let alone savor anything.

Rats!

On the plane ride back from BlogHer, I read a fascinating book about the history of rats in New York City, Rats by Robert Sullivan. The best parts of the book were the historical anecdotes and facts about rats. Also, the few gross-o things I learned (i.e. - if the rat population grows too large to support itself, the furry beady-eyed beasts turn to cannibalism) and squeamish close encounters with rats were great. Less interesting was the author's observations of and ruminations about some rats in an alley in downtown New York, which got me thinking about types of nonfiction writing.

Last week after my writing class, I spoke to the instructor about my desire to attend an MFA program in the fall. He felt that I demonstrated excellent progress in class, but that my writing was not literary, but more journalistic. He described it as "magazine-y," and pointed out that in the prior week I described a couple using the word yuppie. "Yuppie is a label," he said. "It doesn't mean anything."

My additional assignment for this week is to take a page of an article in Vanity Fair and a page from New York, circle all the adjectives, copy it, and bring it to class. I began working on it on my way to the conference, only to discover that what I thought would be obvious isn't so. Sure, I know that an adjective describes a noun, but in reading these articles, I'm having a hard time determining how certain words are being used. Perhaps this is the point of the exercise. Or perhaps I am dumb. In any event, as I read Rats, I tried to determine whether the parts of the book I liked were literary or journalistic. (Answer: Don't know yet. Still trying to understand what makes something "magazine-y" versus "literary.")

So much to learn, so little time. Of one thing in which I am certain: if a rat ever swam up through my toilet bowl, as is known to happen because they are strong swimmers (I was going to say Olympic, but maybe that's magazine-y?), and poked its whiskered nose out, I'd have a heart attack.

Seeing the Light (For Mom)

While I visited my parents a few weeks ago, my mom mentioned that my dad recently broke one of those newfangled long-lasting light bulbs. Not knowing that there is a special way to dispose of those bulbs, he just threw everything out. Not long after that, the Village of Wilmette sent residents a special kit to use in the event that one of those light bulbs break. My mom freaked.

"There's mercury in the living room!" she fretted as I sat with her at the kitchen table.

"So?"

"So what if..." then listed a long stream of very unlikely detrimental effects to women of childbearing age who actually want children, i.e. - my sister.

"Um, I think you are overthinking this. It's not that big a deal."

"That's what so-and-so said at work," she replied, clearly not believing either of us.

This is why I am so excited that florescent light bulb disposal kits were included in the BlogHer Conference goodie bags. Alex even generously donated hers to me to pass on to my mom. So, mom, when you come to see my in NYC in a few weeks, leave extra space in your suitcase for your light bulb safety kits.

Best Book Signing Ever!!!!

My first book signing took place almost 12 hours ago. Thanks to so many wonderful people for making it fantastic! Not only did BlogHer attendees come to see me, but also Warrior Two came in special from the East Bay. It was so awesome meeting her in person! Plus, some of my former co-workers wandered over during their lunch hour. By the time I finished, I was all teary eyed. Everyone has been so supportive and wonderful about this. I am so lucky!!!

Also, thanks to Alex, I also obtained some wonderful photos of bloggers and my beaver. I'll be setting up a flickr account soon to share those. Lord knows there's nothing as exciting as photos of bloggers petting my fuzzy beaver!

My Dam(n)ed Beaver Project

My friend Suebob from the hilarious and thoughtful blog Red Stapler hit on the greatest networking ice breaker ever. She brought a red stapler along with her to the BlogHer conferences, and takes photos of attendees posing with the cheerful object. Everyone wants to be seen with the red stapler! (It probably helps that Suebob is also an all-around amazing human being.)

When I posted a few days ago about my new beaver, Alex asked if I planned to bring my furry friend to the conference. Put two ideas together, and a plan forms: I would bring her to the conference, and ask people if they want to take a picture with my beaver. Beaver shots! It's brilliant! I couldn't wait to get the photo project underway.

The minor detail is that when I arrived at JFK for my flight yesterday morning, I realized that I forgot my camera. Uh huh. (Pursuing my lips with self-disgust.) Fortunately, Alex is not as mentally impaired as I am, and she offered me the use of her new camera! So, the beaver shot project is on!

Now, who wants to pose with my beaver?

Tell Amazon What You Think

One of the talented individuals who took photos for the book IM'd me on Wednesday night and said that his copy of Off the Beaten (Subway) Track (OTBST) arrived! I jumped up and down with excitement, but I also wanted to puke because I am so nervous about what people will think. I hope people will enjoy it, but if not, I'd like to know why. (Feedback will only help me with my next book, whatever that may be.)

If and when you read OTBST, I'd be grateful if you could post a review at Amazon. I'm not pimping for five stars (although I'll take 'em if I earn 'em!), but honest comments. Reviews can be submitted under a pen name, although that is not initially clear when you log in. So if you hate it but don't want me to know, or you love it and want to stalk me, you can do it under a fake name and I'll never be wiser.

As always, I hope that CUSS readers know how grateful and appreciative of all the support you have given me throughout this process, and your enthusiasm for the book. It's just so wonderful to have a network of people, and I promise to return your energy when you write your books.

Last Minute Mini Debacles

I leave for BlogHer tomorrow at 6 am. My writing class takes place tonight from 7 - 10 pm, and I have a million little things to do before that. So of course today would be the day that my little backpack rips.

I use my beloved little backpack like other women use purses. It carries my wallet, keys, subway card, business cards, birth control pills, two kinds of lip balm that I never use, gum, scrap paper, two pens, a pencil, a mirror, subway map, Excederin, Advil, a fold out map of Manhattan, and lately, a copy of my book (just in case - you never know who you'll run into who might want to order it for their chain store, right?). My little bag has been with me for several years now, so I suppose it is only fair that it decided it was ready to retire. Still, it's hard to adjust to a new bag while running off to a networking conference on the other side of the country, assuming I even find a replacement this afternoon. Sob. Oh, little bag, I shall miss you.

Also, a minor last minute change involves make up. It seems that I need to bring some. Fortunately, I can just toss it in my carry on suitcase, which is mostly empty anyway. Regardless, the need for cosmetics makes me nervous.

Average Jane and I had a nice exchange this morning about how excited we are for the conference this year. Then I went to the BlogHer site and read a post about abortion that actually asked, "Why is a woman with so little self-respect as to have sex without commitment to be admired?" By the time I finished reading, I was shaking with anger. I am pretty fucking committed, what with having only one sexual partner in my whole life, and being with him for over 13 years, 8 of those of which we've been married. What the fuck does that have to do with abortion? What I believe it means is that sex for purposes other than procreation is wrong. Go one step further, the only reason to marry is to procreate. It was so judgmental and vile that I am trembling with anger again as I write this. Now I fear (slightly) that I will spend a good portion of my time trying to avoid this woman, which sucks. No one should go to a networking conference with the advanced knowledge that other participants think they are the moral equivalent of toxic waste, which is clearly what this woman thinks of me and anyone like me. Sigh.

Possibly, The Most Tasteless CUSS Post to Date

You've been warned. If you have some misconception that I am a good person, this post will remove that fallacy from your brain forever...

So I was perusing the groups section on Facebook, and saw a group that one of my Facebook/former high school friends recently joined. Based on the joinee, I was certain that the group was very, very serious about its cause, although the logo made me snort evil fits of laughter because it looks and sort of sounds like a bad joke:
It just seems like a Saturday Night Live skit towards the end of the program. Laughing at earnest tone of the Foundation's website only adds to my ranking as a truly horrible person. I kept thinking, "This can't be for real." But it is. The Facebook description is even more dramatically hilarious:

Although this law and Safe Haven has been approved, millions of young women are unaware. So instead of safely delivering their newborn, they frantically leave their baby to die.

Millions of young women? Really? Man, garbage men in Illinois must be finding perfectly good dead babies every single day. Do they dread opening every trash bin, knowing that a dead baby awaits discovery? They must need serious counseling by now. (Maybe this is why Alex's husband got such a severe warning one day when he came out late with a bag of trash; the garbage men probably thought he was disposing of a last minute baby.) Do not miss the heart-wrenching testimonial and photo of "Matthew," an adorable potential garbage baby whose fate as a dead baby was averted when his wise mother abandoned him at a fire station instead of throwing him out like those millions of other stupid young women do with their high quality newborns.

Shit, this was definitely in some movie. I am so hearing a jive-talking black garbage man mutter about "perfectly good white babies" in my head. Anyone know what this is? I know that throwing out babies (or even pets, as Steph and I used to joke that Husband would do with my pet rabbit rabbit while I was out of town) in dumpsters is totally not funny. It's just that I cannot stop cracking up right now. What with the Bushies now defining birth control pills and IUDs as abortions, if I don't laugh I will curl up in the fetal position (and risk mistakenly being trashed by a frantic teen!) and cry.