Harvey Weinstein… OR failed Propecia spokesmodel and great Trumpkin himself… OR the above very dedicated plainclothes New York cop?
Usually, it’s the mother who gets it in the end (see below my cat-canary get up from ages ago… har-dee-har)
But this year… my money’s on number two, Lovelies! That guy is going down.
Happy Halloween! I’d say have a raucous one except that the world already feels a little too much that way and college essays are due tomorrow… so I’ll most likely be doing some histrionic handwringing a la our faves here… (yes, we’re looting the Trocaire box for the six-to-eight children)
In the meantime, stay rad, stay safe and I have so much to tell you very soon!
You suddenly find yourself on the Darkweb. Indeed, if people in North-South-Western Siberia are pirating your hard-won, pithy zingers, at least you know your work is probably never going away.
Someone at your reading asks how you’re dealing with becoming more well known… right after the security guard just told you the event was sold out and you wouldn’t be allowed in.
You realize you don’t want a robot vacuum cleaner that auto-maps your now slightly larger apartment only to hock said map to creepy Black Mirror-style advertisers who then want to help furnish your spartan living room via sponsored content that you yourself are paid to write.
You end up on a literary panel with a group of transracial pharmaceutical fracking advocates and are left to wonder if that means they dig for Prozac while being of indeterminate ethnic heritage, but you don’t want to trigger anyone by asking, so you end up being the quietest girl at the conference.
You now have an assistant who does things like re-label the microwave buttons after that unfortunate salmon incident:
I’ll be back in two weeks after I’ve finished final edits on my next book. This one’s not so much a tell-all as it is a thank you note. In the meantime, in the midst of the ongoing onslaught of existential tragedy, maybe we should all re-read Anne Lamott’s three essential prayers: Help, Thanks, Wow. Seems to say it all these days. xoxo – GG
PS for locals – This is never the way to jump a turnstile:
Ahoy lovelies, just a quickie… Last week when it was hot as balls out, I stumbled upon Bridget & Eamon on Amazon Prime and binge-watched the entire thing through the bloody heat wave:
Maybe it’s that I’m old now, or that I’m a narcissistic, oversharing loudmouth, but B&E is without a doubt the funniest thing I’ve seen all year. It’s like they improv the show from room-to-room and just shoot on the fly. I think my favorite episode is when the sun finally comes out in Ireland in mid-season 2. In any case, if you need a break from the heat or the grim headlines involving our Dorito-hued dildo of a leader, this romp is most certainly the ticket.