random.

die fraulein est strangen! There is nothing cuter than a box of these arriving at your doorstep. Inside each copy is a postcard with an ad for German coffee. I can’t read a word of my book, but I love it.

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In my own personal battle of Depp V. Chocolate, it’s as if chocolate never existed.

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Currently reading: The Botany of Desire: A Plant’s-Eye View of the World. Recently finished: Peace Like a River. This was a friend’s recommendation, otherwise I don’t think I ever would have ever picked up a coming-of-age book set in Montana, peppered with an epic poem. I’m glad she told me about it.

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Currently dancing to: Gorillaz, Demon Days.

The Curviest Number

So, I’m thirty. Today.

“Drew Barrymore just turned thirty,” stee says from across the breakfast table. He’s got that tone — hesitantly trying to cheer me up.

That’s how many people have approached me over the past week. “Soo…” they start. “Someone has a birthday…?”

Like they expect me to stop them in the middle of their sentence. “Birthdays are cancelled!” Continue reading

five.

I can’t say I wish I had more time to write here, because I’m pretty happy with what is keeping me so busy right now. But it’d be nice to have more time here to write down what life has been like, mostly for me to have later (because this is supposed to be a diary, after all). I’m back at work on the Oxygen show for a few weeks, doing rewrite work on the pilot, and that has been much more fun than I could have predicted. I’m finishing a recap. I’m finishing the latest draft of the WGAW screenplay. I’m working on the book revisions. And in a couple of days I leave for Aspen. Continue reading

Jennifer Weiner says of Why Girls Are Weird:

“Chick lit at its most trenchant and truthful.”

(read the rest of her interview here.)

Thanks, Jennifer! I am a huge fan of her blog. Also, she was very nice and pretty when we went to see her read over the summer. She’s a TWoP fan, and you’d think we were the ones with the bestselling books, with how much she was blushing. Her advice led me to my new book deal, so I’m very grateful that she’s so cool.

325 donations.

eleven and a half hours until my doctor’s appointment.
 
This ER rerun i’ve never seen before which seems like I was supposed to stay home tonight and update book donations.  We’re at 325.  And the letters from the librarians, as you can see, have been coming in all week.  It’s one of my favorite things about the book drive, hearing about the delivery guy and all of those boxes.  But that means we only got less than thirty donations over the past week.  There’s only nine days left to donate in order to be eligible for the book contest.
 
Words aren’t making as much sense right now, and the pain has subsided.  People love to talk about how to take Vicodin the right way, how you have to chase the dragon a little, taking the next one right before the pain sets in.  I think I got it right this time.  For the first time in twenty-four hours I’m not in pain. 
 
I’m dreading seeing the surgeon tomorrow.  I like her a lot, and she looks like Reba MacIntyre.  On Monday when she said I was all healed (did I already tell this story?  I’ve made a million posts tonight), I asked her what do I do if another one formed.  She got all serious and said, “Call me immediately and come in.  We’ll cut it open and see what’s going on.”
 
I’m hoping that’s some kind of surgeon figure of speech.
 
My producers on Why Girls Are Weird were nominated for a slew of Emmys today for their HBO movie.  I had a great time ordering them flowers. 
 
“What’s the occasion?” the florist asked.
“They got nominated for Emmys!” I cheered.
“That’s so exciting!” she said.  “What a fun reason to send flowers!”
 
Then we tried to figure out the most worthy bouquet.  It’s an honor just to be Emmy nominee-adjacent.

Too Big for Its Britches

Oh, man. I guess it was bound to happen. I’ve gone over my monthly bandwidth allotment again. I get 7 Gig/ month of data transfer. They’re projecting 10 Gig for this month, which will cost $212 for the month of September if I don’t do something very soon to fix it. For those of you who’ve been with Squishy since the beginning, you know this is why I ended up having to close down the site, when Verio.com raised my rates to over three hundred dollars a month to keep the site running. I’ve outgrown the small plan I’d moved to when I closed the site down, and already, just a couple of months in, I’m over my allotment. Is it because I used pictures this month when I normally don’t? Won’t this just be the problem now that there are more pages on my site to browse? How can I find a monthly webhost plan that’s reliable and less than fifty bucks a month? Because, come on, I don’t want to spend more than fifty bucks a month for my journal. That’s insane, right? Shouldn’t this be easier?

Little Drummer Boy’s playing a sad, sad, clumsy song for me.

Continue reading

Insignificance

It feels really silly. This morning I got to drive through the Warner Brothers lot for a meeting, and I squealed like a child when I saw the E.R. set — the ambulance bay and Doc Magoo’s. Then I bounced in the passenger seat when I realized we were next driving through Stars Hollow, the fictional city where Gilmore Girls is set. I still get very star-struck and awe-struck at this town, this place that sometimes feels like I fell into my television.

I think about how often I’ve had to give myself pep talks over the past year. There’s a certain falseness and pretentiousness that comes along with trying to be a part of this industry. I almost feel the need to apologize sometimes for not striving to be a scientist curing diseases, or a social worker helping orphaned children find homes. I could have been a doctor or a lawyer if I wanted to. I have the discipline; I just didn’t have the dream. And sometimes I do feel guilty that I want to live in Hollywood and write stories that make people laugh. I feel like I couldn’t possibly contribute to the common good that way. How could I leave this place a better world than when I got here? Isn’t that what we’re all supposed to try and do in some way?

Continue reading

squishy revisited

So, here we are. One year later. Let me just get this out of the way first: I missed you, too. I missed you very much, actually. It was lonely without you around. After all those days spent complaining that you guys were too much to handle, I felt like a mom who had finally gotten all of her kids off to college. The house was empty and too quiet.

And like a mom who finally gets her wish come true, I got bummed out and watched too much Oprah. Continue reading