And then what happens when you find another girl’s bra in your apartment.

[Setting: Twitter]

@pamelaribon — I just pulled a bra out of my drawer and put it on, only to realize… this isn’t mine. I don’t shop at Victoria’s Secret. (…is it yours?)

@Glark — Stop crowdtesting your new novel Pamie.

@Mjfrig — Yes, I have man-boobs, okay! Stop rubbing it in. #idontreally #onlyajokeiswear

@auriflamme — It’s mine, yo.

@matt_fuqua — How embarrassing. I’ll get it next time I see you.

@SaraMorrison — What does it look like?

@pamelaribon — @SaraMorrison Flesh-colored, “Biofit,” 34D. If it’s yours, you just saved three thousand hours of drilling @jasonwupton with questions. Continue reading

My Brain is a Jerk.

I’ve mentioned before how my dreams are annoyingly literal. I rarely have to spend any time pondering, “I wonder what that meant.” Yes, even REMpam is a Wonder Killer.

How literal? Well, to be extremely graphic, I once had a dream in college where a notoriously tough professor was butt-raping me in front of the entire class to prove a point about the importance of authenticity in acting technique.

LITERAL.

IT IS NOT FUN TO BE DREAM ME. Continue reading

this is how sad it gets.

I looked up the upgrade standby list for my flight today and it said:

8. RIB, P.
9. DEP, J.

And for the splittest of seconds I was all, “OH MY GOD, IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING.” What is wrong with me? How many romantic comedies did I have to see to fry my brain this way? Like that man is sitting in coach, fingers a-tingling, hoping for an upgrade. Like that man ever has to be on a waiting list.

Honestly.

Pathetic.

Anyway, I look forward to meeting you, Jennifer Depperschmitz.

I Watched Too Much Lost (No Spoilers)

I just think that many hours in a row of one thing is kind of bad for the brain. Like, Clockwork Orange bad. My dreams last night were ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that I woke up during one of them and had to write it down. For you. Please don’t miss the ending, as it has a very special guest star.

Okay, so Kate, Jack and Sawyer are walking through the jungle when Jack casually mentions he wishes he could have some Chinese food. Kate smirks and says, “Follow me.”

She leads them down this windy, rainy path until she pushes through two trees and uncovers: Chinatown. They wind through the crowded streets and into a Chinese restaurant. Kate finds a table around a corner where they can eat protected from being seen. Jack, breathless from the journey, looks at Kate as sweat rolls down his forehead. “Nice work,” he pants. She smiles. Continue reading

I Didn’t Fall! (But I Almost Fell. Right When I Got to the Podium. (Forward!))

The book signing went well! By the end of the hour it looked like a Derby Gang had shown up to be my bodyguards, and perhaps their intimidating size could be the reason the place sold out my books before everybody got a chance to get a copy. Note to writers: get a gang. When the pretty pants-less lady stares down your audience in a bookstore, it turns out they’ll pretty much do anything for her.

In all honesty, as much as the pants-less lady did her job, I’m really grateful for all my friends and fans who braved misery (aka: The Grove on a weekend) to come out and hear me read a couple of things. They also got a very special letter from Little Pam before a few gifts were exchanged. The derby girls met writer girls, and the few boys in attendance couldn’t possibly have minded… well, mostly because of the pants-less lady. And in all honesty, this book reading really made me miss performing. Continue reading