The day I have to finally admit that I might be rapidly turning into Hoda.

I’ve mentioned before, but probably not on pamie.com, that I watch Kathie Lee and Hoda most mornings. That’s not exactly true — I have it on while I’m working. Depending on which part of the house I choose to work from that day (couch if I’m feeling frustrated, desk if I’m feeling self-punishey), I will let the TV do its thing from The Today Show all the way to that silly fourth hour of booze and constant chit-chattering. It makes me feel like I’m at an office, stuck in a corporate job I can’t stand, and I’ve got Kathie Lee and Hoda at the next cube going on and on and on about a movie one liked that the other didn’t that starred an actor whose name they can’t remember, or they’re ranting about a young starlet whose behavior they don’t understand, or sometimes — unfortunately — Kathie Lee’s talking about her sex life with her husband. But they really do make me feel better about my drinking, as most days I wait until at least after two to drink as much as these two sloshy ladies Read more

anxiety

Mom just brought me a chewable calcium supplement. Two, actually. “One for later,” she said, because Jason told her that Dr. Oz said somewhere that we can only absorb so much calcium at one time, so we need to take it in two doses. I am terrible at remembering to take vitamins, but I’m even more terrible at them ever since Jason began a sentence (with only the best of intentions) with, “You know, in terms of calcium, once a woman reaches thirty-five…” I hit mute, rewind, delete, deny.

I kind of walk around all day right now with this low-level, stomach-knot anxiety. Part of it must come from me being unable to do anything that feels like actual exercise. I can’t skate, I can’t go for a run, I can’t even go for a twenty-minute walk without regretting it later. So I sit. I sit and wait. I wait for word on the upfronts. Any minute now we find out the fate of Romantically Challenged. I’m under contract there, which means I can only do so much alternate planning in case the show goes from hiatus to cancelled. With the publication of Going in Circles I am finished with my contract, and I’m now writing chapters that will end up in a book proposal. I’ve also written up a pitch for an hour-long tv show based on a novel I love, love, love, but I’m waiting on notes from my agent… who is busy with upfronts. I meet tomorrow with the studio I’m creating a half-hour pitch with this development season, which means I’m waiting to find out what project I’ll ultimately be pitching with them. I’m waiting on responses for a few other possibles here and there. All good things, if only a “YES” would come back. I’m waiting. I’m writing. I’m waiting. And I’m closely monitoring my dwindling savings account. Read more

Making a Spectacle of Myself

As I prep to write my story of this past weekend’s bout, I figured I’d stall with these two stories.

One: I got glasses. They’re only for reading, working, and driving at night, but that basically means they’re for every single second of my life. This is a big deal for me, as I used to pride myself on my 20/10 vision, claiming I could see through people, and now I’ve developed astigmatism. I only figured it out when I was goofing around putting someone else’s glasses on my head, only to go, “Oh, wow. All sorts of words just snapped into focus right in front of me.”

Anyway, for me this monumental. Glasses, on my face. Glasses that I carry around in a case. When did I want glasses? Back when I was like, seven. Not so much these days. It’s another thing to worry about. And I always think of Piggy and his assmar. Read more

Why I haven’t been updating my blog often enough: good excuses.

There’s no order of importance here, but in the last week or so I’ve had a package lost at the post office, a letter returned because it didn’t reach the recipient in time, my computer stolen, and my tailbone broken.

I’m not sad or pissed off, but I am getting impatient with living my days balanced on one hip and my nights splayed across ice packs. And I’m really tired of calling the post office. Other than that, it’s work-book-work.

Mostly I’m nervous, because in a couple of days I’m teaching a class where I’m not as worried about being funny as I am being fun. Ages 8-12?! Yikes. I am a very old lady to them.

Speaking of, last weekend I got carded buying a bottle of wine, and the mohawked dude behind the counter looks at my ID and goes, “Whoa. WHOA.” Then he looks at the people in line behind me and goes, “I thought she was WAY younger than that. I mean, that’s a like, a baby face compared to how old you–”

“ALL RIGHT,” I shouted. “It was flattering at first, but that’s enough. I’m not THAT old.”

And then he did that head bob that means, “Kinda you are.”

That story has nothing to do with why I haven’t been updating my blog other than I proceeded to drink that bottle of wine, talking about how I’m not old, and then I was in no condition to write anything to anyone.

…I will probably not tell that story to the eight-year olds.

grateful and grumpy (aka: old-lady pamie)

For those of you who are crazy cat ladies/actual veterinarians/long-time fans: Thank you for writing in about Cal and his new meds. That’s very kind of you, and your advice is much appreciated. Yay for Pill Pockets. Now if only Greenies made a “Liquid-y Vomit Catcher ™” for thirty minutes after Cal’s had his medicine.

I don’t need to be yet another person to tell you how hot it was in Los Angeles this weekend, but I will be. It was hot. Very hot. Read more

uh,

As you can see, I thought yesterday was Wednesday. Even on my birthday, I get the days of the week messed up. I haven’t been right in months. Read more

writer’s ear + office ass = runner’s tears

Well, it’s official. Lately when I order my coffee from whichever boy is behind the counter that day, he calls me by my name and makes a joke about either my current order, or one I’ve had before. I’ve never had a coffee shop where people know me by name. This means I have logged some serious hours here, and the staff is very friendly. Read more