Monday, April 26, 2010

Tantrums and Trenchcoats

You know that wonderfully euphoric feeling you get when everything in your life is going right and perfect and there's nothing that can take it away? Yeah, me neither.

I witnessed the funniest and most pathetic thing today. A fully grown, mature (sometimes), thirty year old woman throwing a tantrum. A thirty year old woman!!! Have you ever seen a seven year old throw a tantrum? They throw something, they stomp around the house making as much noise as possible without saying a word, and they look at you as if you are the stupidest and most inconvenient person they have ever seen in the universe. Yeah. Thirty year old woman. It took every fiber of my self-control not to laugh when she threw the remote then went stomping away with a "bite me" scowl on her face, looking for all the world like an infuriated seven year old trapped in a grown up body. I never knew such a short person could make so much noise stomping around like that.

Another funny thing today? Ok, so you remember that vanity publishing company that I sent my manuscript to? I got a package from them in the mail today. (Go figure, I was expecting an e-mail.) They said they would be pleased to publish my Work (with a capital letter) and they included a very nice summary of my book. I blushed a little. Want to know what the going rate is to get your book published with a vanity publishing company? $11,500. Yeah, my jaw dropped too. And that's for a soft cover and the smallest type font available! I don't make that much money in like 3 years (not kidding), an I'm currently the breadwinner while my husband is looking for a better job! I am trying to think of a very nice, eloquent, polite way to say, "Are you fricking kidding me?!?!?!" I'm not getting very far. So far I have "Dear Publisher,". Any suggestions?

Sooooo . . . I'm giving serious consideration to just finding a printing and binding company and doing it that way. Like how people do their family histories and sometimes kids in school do a school project and they print it up and they each get a real book of it? Yeah, that. I don't really care if I get it for real published, I really don't. The money would be fabulous, but I've never wanted to be famous. That would be so stressful and awkward. I just want my book. I want to hold my book, have it in my hands, printed and bound and real and looking like I just bought it from a bookstore. There you go, deep wild fantasy moment. And then I want to do the same with all the rest of my books! I want a whole shelf of my own books that I can read when I want to without having to do it on a computer. Because oftentimes I completely forget what I have written, and I can actually be quite funny and witty sometimes! I always get a little tingly and warm inside when I can read my own words and laugh at them. Ok, a lot tingly and warm.

Ooh, this is random, but guess what? I have a trenchcoat! You know like in the movies, the butt-kicking sexy chick has a sexy black trenchcoat that goes to her knees and just looks sexy? I have one! I got it on sale at Walmart! It's actually a little too small for me, so I can't button it all the way up and I can't fold my arms because the shoulders are too tight when I do that, but since I like it better unbuttoned anyway, I don't care! I feel dangerous when I wear it. I think sometime soon I'll have to put on one of my pairs of black boots and my trenchcoat and sunglasses and just feel all dangerous and cool and sexy for a minute. I'm weird, I know. I'll just sit here in my weirdness and be weird.

Ok, I think I'm done prattling on for now. Actually, I can think of lots more things to prattle on about, but I'm not sure my poor audience wants to listen. And I'm trying to go to bed at a decent hour (yes, before 2 in the morning is considered a decent hour for me). Last night we had to stay up late and finish washing our laundry. We were trying to get it all done so my sister-in-law could use the machine in the morning. At about 5:30 a.m. I decided that perhaps I should try to get some sleep before the sun rose and our daughter came bouncing into our room as cheery as a chipmunk on drugs. I did fall asleep, because the next thing I knew I was being rudely awoken with and elbow in my ribs, a knee on my bladder, and a very loud chorus of "Mote! Mote!" ringing in my ears. So while our bouncy daughter scrambled around on the bed and on my kidneys looking for the remote and insisted that we watch Mickey (or just about any kind of cartoon featuring a character that was friends with Mickey Mouse) I unfortunately woke up a little more and seriously considered murdering the dog. There could not have possibly been something outside that would inspire such loud, persistent, OBNOXIOUS barking! It wasn't even his frenzied barking at the mailman! It was this booming bark every other second like he was trying to perfect doggie Morse code! GAH! I very nearly got out of bed to order him to be silent using very strong language and possibly a threat to his treat supply. But at that point it was somewhere around 7 or 8 in the morning. I did not have the oomph. And I had a two year old kneeling on my ovaries. The dog should be very grateful.

Anyway, I'm really leaving now. It's 12:52 and I have to get up at 8:30 tomorrow to get ready for work. Have a lovely day! Or night. Or afternoon. Or whatever. Tomorrow I will aspire to be happier than a seagull with a french fry! Byez!

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