I was going to go with an eOrgasms article to spice up this dreary winter day, but I sat in front of my computer for such an embarrassing length of time, nothing came. Har har. (I wish I could write erotica…I hear it pays well.)
I apologize–this is strangely personal for someone you’ve never met. Let me digress. I grew up in Ennui, Ohio. (Which is a joke.) (Because it gives far too much credit to my hometown.) Back then, I would have traded clear skin for being fat in a heartbeat. Well now, the joke’s on me–I can eat exponentially greater quantities of potato chips when I read on my kindle, than while fumbling with a paperback book. That’s not to say I haven’t fumbled a bit with my Kindle–we’ve been to third base, (thanks to an overambitious, delicious, non-nutritious reading feast that included a glass of wine). Salty fingers are no friend to the digital domain, either, (orange-colored crumbs are even worse) but have no fear, a toothpick combined with a napkin serves as a tiny magic wand, erasing the evidence.
Thanks to a steady diet of so many new books to explore, I do try to limit my grazing while gazing…feeding while reading…glutton on the button…
“Oh, dear God, please let this woman write better novels than blog posts,” you may be thinking. When updating my blog, I fear no one really cares about what an author has to say; whether or not I donate spare change to street musicians or have pet names for family members. My husband informed me he wants to be known as “Director,” (he does direct TV shows) but you’ll be happy to know I shined him off by directing him to “Direct this,” while grabbing my own arse. As for my kids, I could full out ID them by their cell phone-slash-social security numbers for all the impression I make on them–they never notice anything I do.
Back to me. Focus. I like to write because I say really stupid things. I do embarrassing things. I am a shit-talker. Guilty of Schadenfreude. I cheat in yoga. My bra and underwear don’t match. To add insult to injury, my kindle is making me fat.
Misery loves company, as they say–won’t you join me?