It’s Monday, it’s raining and I think that my house might be haunted. It’s either that or the cats are messing with me. Odds are good either way.
1.) So my mother calls me Friday afternoon and says this: “I just sent you another post to publish. You’re going to kill me.”
Her: “Because it’s about that time you brought home a stripper.”
Her: “I had too.”
Me: “He wasn’t really a stripper, and I didn’t really ‘bring him home,’ in the sense that ‘bring home’ implies.”
Her: “He said he was a stripper, and he was in our house.”
Her: “Wait ’til I tell the story about the first time that you and I talked about hand jobs.”
2.) Traveling around the world isn’t getting me away from my mother and her blog-cum-child-torment-device, but it is providing some amazing insights into just how much mothers around the world have in common. You should join in.
3.) You know that I’m not really all that outraged about my mother’s blog, right? If anything, it’s a boon. There’s no reason for me to write lengthy essays explaining why I’m so messed up when my mother’s out there giving the world a live demonstration.
4.) I have an essay in this book. You should buy it.
5.) I also have an essay in this book. You should buy it, too.
6.) Oh, yeah, and this one too. More than one essay, actually. So maybe buy more than one copy of this one. You know, so that you can fully appreciate the breadth of my talent.
7.) I guess Monday is not all that bad when you wake up and realize that, yes, you are, kind of, a published author and that’s kind of awesome. And odds are that neither the cats nor the ghosts have themselves ever been published. So. They can just suck it.