You Love Me! You Really... Yeah.

So people are actually pre-ordering the damned book, which is making me jump up and down on my coffee table and scare the shit out of the cats. The J-Man is rolling his eyes and looking at me with the tired, long-suffering look of a child who still cannot quite believe that he is going to be forced to live with this poor excuse for a so-called adult for another twelve years and five days.

Other mothers do not jump on the coffee table, make fart noises with their hands, and imitate Keith Richards when company is present. Other mothers give children Twinkies with a sweet smile when they have buddies over. They do not toss apples at children while chain-smoking and tell them to "get the hell outside so I can get some proofreading done, for the love of Jesus, will you; and stop screaming before I beat you both with a shoe - I'll do it too, I don't care if you're my kid or not, DON'T TEST ME, I am TIRED and I have a HEADACHE."

I sometimes suspect that the J-Man would like one of these other mothers, these polite women that shop at Marshall Field's and do not own doo-rags or shout at other people's kids, but he is shit out of luck, because I don't want to trade him in for one of those other mothers' kids, those rotten-ass kids that play Nintendo all goddamn day long and eat white bread sandwiches with Pixy Stix, those boring kids that don't know the lyrics to Go Gos tunes or The Pixies.

Sorry kid, you're stuck with me.

Anyway, I think I have every right to be excited, because I thought approximately three people would buy this book and that the rest would leave pleasant comments like "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TRYING TO SELL A BOOK ON TEH INTARWEB??" or maybe "IF I WANTED TO READ CRAP I'D CONSULT MY TOILET" or perhaps "YEAH, LIKE I CAN'T GO TO GOOGLE AND FIND EIGHTY PERCENT OF YOUR STUPID DRIVEL", so the fact that people have actually plunked down their hard-earned pesos for the thing is really, really cool and I actually had a stupid little Sally Field moment in which I wrapped my arms around the monitor and sniffled a little.

It was bittersweet, though, because upon mulling it over a bit I came to the conclusion that it's really sort of sad when the folks on the internet seem to love you more than your own family does.

That's OK, though, because I'm far more annoying in real life.

Plus, I am a love whore and will take it any damn where I can get it.

Anyway, after you (you being the book-purchasing folk) have received your book and have read it, do drop me an e-mail and let me know what you think, because I am anxious to get some feedback.

Unless you hated it. If that's the case, don't tell anyone.

The book goes to the printer's on the fifteenth.

I will be enjoying a nice big glass of something very loaded with alcohol on the fifteenth.

In other news, my mother seems to have contracted some sort of vile Hanta virus that has transformed her from her usual skinny, frighteningly aggro-perky, blond self into a swollen, squinty, little wraith.

She looks like Gollum.

I wish I had a photo to document this frightening yet strangely amusing phenomenon, but she skitters off to the bathroom upon hearing the whir of the camera, and so far I have been unable to capture her hideous likeness.

Although my mother has survived the removal of her uterus and ovaries, a mastectomy, and brain surgery with very little complaining, she is a complete and total wuss when it comes to the tiniest of medical proceedures, such as shots, IVs, and eyedrops.

Yes, eyedrops. The woman has had a hole sawed into her skull, but she can't put eyedrops into her eyes. I cannot explain this. Lop a breast off and she's fine, but stick a needle in her arm or drops in her eyes and she whines for days. Go figure.

Anyway, I was drafted to put eyedrops in.

"I haaaaate this."

"Just lie down, and I'll do it that way."

"I haaaaaaate this."

"God, don't be such a baby. It doesn't hurt. They're not even medicated! They don't sting or anything. Just lie down."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"

"I'm just HOLDING YOUR EYE OPEN! GOD! Just HOLD STILL! God, you're worse than the damn cat!"

"I hate this!"

"God. Just hold still, it takes like one second."

"AAAAA!"

"STOPPIT! Mom!"

"I haaaaaate this!"

"Do I have to sit on you?"

"Noooooooo!"

"Mom. Just hold still. I have to hold your eye open. This DOES NOT HURT. It takes like ONE SECOND. Hold still, and I will be done in ONE SECOND."

"Weeeeeeeeeh."

"Mom."

"OK, OK, OK. Fine. OK."

"OK. One eye. Hold Still."

"OWWWWW! OWOWOWOWOWOW!!!"

"JESUS! MOM! God. OK, one done."

"I haaaaaate this! OWWW! You put like THREE DROPS IN!!!"

"I did not. OK, stop it. Other eye. HOLD STILL."

"Weeeeeeeeh."

"OK."

"OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!"

"CHRIST! I can't BELIEVE you."

"OW!!!"

"I didn't get it. Now I have to do it again. Come on, you're being ridiculous."

"I am NOT. It HURTS."

"It does not. Now stop it."

"Weeeeeeeh."

"My God. OK."

"OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!"

"OK, OK, fine, DONE. God."

"Thank you."

"You're insane."

The woman has had brain surgery and was fine. I don't get it. Eye drops??

Maybe I'm insensitive. I can put my own damn IV in and take it out, if needed. And eye drops? Jesus. If I had a problem with eye drops I'd be in the nuthouse by now.

DC just called to inform me that we have to go to a wedding next weekend. The people in question have been dating for a month and a half and have been engaged for two days.

To the best of our knowledge, she is not pregnant.

Is it just me, or does this seem insane?

A month and a half? I think I have been dating DC for about a month and a half. What the hell do you know about someone in a month and a half?

I don't even know the man's pants size, for Christ's sake. I don't know how he cooks his eggs. I don't know whether he hangs the toilet paper going backwards or frontwards. I don't even know whether he's pro-choice or pro-life, now that I think about it! There are a fuck of a lot of things I don't know.

A month and a half. That is some seriously scary shit.

Happy Tuesday.

3:01 p.m. - 2004-06-08
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