Song: “Good Girls, Bad Guys”
I’ve been working sixty hour weeks at the show, which means my brain pretty much sounds like a DMX track these days. “What?” “WHAT?” “WOO!”
pamie.com is thrilled to be a part of Virtual Book Tour once again. This time it’s Jennifer Traig’s hilarious Devil in the Details : Scenes From an Obsessive Girlhood. She promises me that the copy of the book I received had a binding issue, and wasn’t intentionally off-center by one centimeter. The three borderline obsessive-compulsives who tried to fix the book before a recent Writers Guild screening of Closer do not believe her. In fact, our discussion of how her publishing company was genius to make a book about obsessive-compulsive disorder have a small, irritating, disorderly flaw garnered the attention of more than one audience member sitting near us. In fact-in fact, the book held the attention of more than one Guild member much longer than Julia Roberts could. Apparently writers like things to be orderly, and Jennifer’s book was calling to us, asking to be fixed, begging to be righted, to be held and taken care of. Continue reading
So, it’s official. I’ve lost my mind.
It’s been a pretty stressful couple of weeks around here, and things are about to get pretty hectic, so my mind has been in many places at once. It also happens to be a time when every event that we’ve been saving up to see is now occurring. Over the past week, there were tickets to Warhol, tickets to two comedy shows, tickets to a theatrical show and tickets to a concert all getting delivered to the house.
Also I should note that I smacked my forehead. Twice. In twelve hours. The first time I was carrying glasses into the kitchen. My hands were full so I didn’t turn on the light. I leaned forward too far placing them on the counter and hit my head on the corner of the cabinet. Just smacked right into it, right at the top of my forehead. Man, did that hurt. No bruise, just intense pain.
Then in the shower the next morning I dropped my razor. I spun around too quickly to retrieve it and smacked my forehead on the corner of the shower door, right in the same place. I’m sure even Little Drummer Boy next door heard my wailing, sounding like Sissy Spacek at the beginning of Carrie.
Now I’ve got a very faint bruise, but my head is killing me. Keep that in mind, okay?