That's right! My new book launches today! I'm so excited! I've gotten so many congratulatory telegrams, and I didn't even know telegrams still existed! Everyone from me to my cat have leapt in joy and acclimation. In fairness, my cat was chasing one of those laser pointers, but still.
I'll admit, I forgot to plan for the party. And grocery day isn't until tomorrow, so I'm just going to wing it. I have a box of saltines and a jar of peanut butter, a half-consumed hunk of pepper jack cheese and four (I believe) queen olives left in the jar. I hope my guests like chocolate milk!
My local paper, and by that I mean locally-milled toilet paper, will be covering the event, at least until either my guests or my rolls are depleted.
I've decided to turn down all interview requests. I don't want to be seen as one of those "me me me" celebrities, although I regret I won't be able to sound off on my pet issue, the environmental scourge of hairbrush tangles.
I am giddy with excitement! The party runs from 2:00 p.m. 'til 2:05 p.m., by which time I will be so exhausted, I'm just going to climb into bed to dream of swimming in lush pools of royalty checks.
Does this sound like I'm bragging? Well, I am, dammit. I'm sorry (not sorry) that every author can't be well renowned like me. I guess some of us have it, and then there are the rest of you.
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