Woo-hoo! We have a release date for Notes to Boys (And Other Things I Shouldn’t Share in Public). [For newer readers who may not be familiar with some of Little Pam’s finest, I direct you to these older posts. Start here.]

The Polish translation of You Take It From Here was released earlier this year. I love how angsty the main characters look. “I live your life now. I stare at your future. I will use your skin care products even though they do not agree with my complexion. This is how I am best friend to you.”

I am writing on a lunch break because I miss you, dear readers of pamie.com. I hope you know that when I’m not writing here it is because I am always (no, really, always) writing something for you that sometimes you will see later. Though sometimes, unfortunately, you’ll never see it, but it’s always with the intent that it will get to be before your eyes or in your hands some day. Or on your iPads. Or in your Kindles. Or in your closet. Look in your closet! SURPRISE! HI! I AM WEARING ALL YOUR CLOTHES.

Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday, and I don’t know how to thank her enough for changing her entire life to be near her grandchild. I would be lost without her help and patience, and even though she seems to think that my baby is “bored” with my breastmilk, and even though she sometimes says to Qwerty as I leave for work, “Say goodbye. Your mommy’s leaving you again,” I am so very grateful for Mom’s generosity and love.

A recent comment asks: Why is Pamie calling her baby Qwerty? Why not just tell people what the baby’s real name is?

I’ve been writing pamie.com for over fifteen years. (Please. A moment. I need to sit down. This website is old enough to have a driver’s permit. Jesus. You guys. Is this how some of you feel who have kids in high school? This feels old! Like I’m an old person who says old things like calling your jeans “dungarees” but instead my old person words are “Geocities” and “FTP server.” Oh, man, this site is old. OLD! I’ve been writing about the VMAs since people willingly listened to Sugar Ray! Was I answering a question? Can someone hand me my glasses? I’m chilly. Why do you like to keep it so cold in here?)

I mention how old my website is because it is the reason why I know I don’t want to mention my child’s real name. Qwerty has a right to privacy, and the Internet can be a creepy, scary, stupid place for anyone, especially children. Fifteen years of watching the web change means I’ve seen all kinds of mistakes in handling a personal life publicly. I’ve made a number of them myself. Jason and I decided it’s up to Qwerty when he or she starts an internet footprint.

Oh, and speaking of things I’ve done that my child will one day be sad to find on the Internet, the legendary massage story will be featured in the upcoming anthology for Anna David’s True Tales of Lust and Love. Do you know I still get emails from that spa, and every time they are boasting about their “Happy Hour Special”? Do you know how much restraint I show every single time that I don’t tell you guys where this place is, just so it can become a spot on those Hollywood tour buses?

“And here we have the place you’ve read about on the Internet, where some pregnant lady rolled around in a stranger’s jizz. If you look closely, you can still see her tears on the sidewalk, near that stop sign where she called her doctor. And if you look just down the street, you will see — the bar where Nick works on New Girl!”

[ooh, i just gave you a hint.] [see how much i miss you?]
[i do.]
[i hope you like the Little Pam book when it gets here. I put my heart into it.]
[For you. And Qwerty. But also for you.]