Okay, I was upset. A few days ago I released some anger and blogged about my resentment towards Oprah for continually passing me over in favor of other, more celebrity-type, writers trying to peddle the same types of books that I have written. Sure I don’t sleep with Dr. Phil or Jim Carrey, but my books are worthy none the less. I said some hurtful things, and Oprah, I am sorry. Not only did time heal my wound, but so did my soaring sales for “Menopause Sucks” due to your new passion on the subject. In a round-a-bout way, your power has helped a peon writer like myself whose only goal is to stay home and raise her kid. And, I’d say a goal like that makes me just as worthy as anyone who has had sex with a member of the screen actor’s guild.
Thank you, Oprah!
I just got the bound galleys for “Teenagers Suck” which comes out this Spring. I think it’ll hit the bookstores in early April. I posted the intro and Table of Contents. Just click the “Teenagers Suck” tab above and be the first to read an excerpt from this soon to be classic!
Facebook and Twitter and Blogging! OH MY! So much technology. So little time! Besides, even if I had more hours in the day, I don’t get how all these on-line activities work. Let’s face it. The main reason that I have this site is to spread the word about my books. Sure, having eleven books in the bookstores is great, but it seems authors also need to have a website “chaser.” But now, a blog isn’t good enough. Now all the cool authors also have a Facebook page. Okay. Signed up. Added photo. Did that. You’d think I’d be done but noooo. It seems you’re nothing if you don’t also have a Twitter account! Mamma Mia! So now I’m blogging and FBing and Tweeting (Twitting? Twatting?) and I can’t imagine how doing any of this has actually given my book series any more attention than before. But it has given me a hell of a lot of frustration by being asked to be “friends” on Facebook by old friends who I never wanted to be friends with in the first place. And by trying to get my message posted on Twitter in 140 characters or less and figuring out what all those initials mean in other Twitter posts (UR=your is all I’ve figured out).
With the football season quickly nearing the end, I feel the same joyous delight as I do with other seasons like Christmas or National Eat Yourself Sick on Raw Cookie Dough Day (my own personal favorite). Enough of weekends where men feel entitled to sit on their asses while their wives do all the work. Do you think men would be equally as generous if women sat around all weekend watching all-day marathons of All My Children? I don’t think so! So hurray for Superbowl Sunday! Bring it on!!! I can’t wait to celebrate watching Bruce at halftime while stuffing myself full of buffalo wings. Then afterwards the fun truly begins as I make my husband catch up on the chores he missed out on these 20 or so long weeks! Now there’s a season to celebrate!
I watched Oprah yesterday whose goal was to enlighten women about the perils of menopause. Her guest, Mrs. Dr. Phil, Robin McGraw, who has a new book out about her personal journey fighting the demon called perimenopause. Well, enlighten this, Oprah! I’ve had a book on the shelf for a year talking about this same thing. The title, “Menopause Sucks”! Only, I’m not the wife of a famous television “doctor.” Oh, and when you had Jenny McCarthy on your show pimping her latest book about the truth behind pregnancy, where was I? I had the FIRST book (a bestseller no less) that shed light on just how miserable procreation can be, but my tush never graced your couch. Hmmm, could it be that I wasn’t an ex-playboy bunny dating Jim Carrey?
