It started at about 6:00 this morning as I was getting ready for work, and I really did a fairly decent job of keeping a straight face throughout the ordeal. Went a little something like this:
Jadon: Morning, Mama. You putting on make-up?
Me: Yep, I’m getting ready for work.
Jadon: Girls wear make-up?
Me: Yes, girls wear make-up.
Jadon: Boys don’t wear make-up, right?
Me: That’s right.
Jadon: (Observing my almost-dressed-for-work state) Boys don’t wear bras.
Me: That’s right, too.
Jadon: Girls wear bras?
Me: Yes, girls wear bras.
Jadon: So that when the cops stop them for speeding their boobies don’t bounce and the cops don’t laugh?
Me: Ummmm….why don’t you go watch SpongeBob while Mommy finishes getting ready?
Ok, a couple of things here. First of all, we are not frequently stopped by the cops, nor do we usually refer to them as “the cops” to the kids. We sometimes point out police cars and such, but really, it sounded like I was living with a little gangsta this morning. “Yeah, man…gotsta watch out for those cops, man.” WHAT?!
Also, as a public service announcement to all my friends out there, remember to wear your bras. Because if you don’t, and if you jiggle or bounce or anything, the cops WILL most certainly laugh at you. You are welcome.
- Spend the first week in a complete panic wondering what the HELL I have done and babbling incoherently about how I can’t talk to (gasp!) PEOPLE and how can I just walk up and talk to STRANGERS and pimp myself out and holy-cheese-whiz-Batman, I may just crap my pants. Ok, check that step off the list. Yay.
- Next, focus on refining my writing for about 10 minutes. Then spend about a month telling myself that I am a crappy writer and that I better hope they have a damned good cash bar at this place because I am going to need a lot of fermented grapes to get me through the weekend. Drunken starving writers are all the rage, I’m pretty sure.
- Figure out what to wear. This should be easy because I own nothing but denim. Crap, I own nothing but denim! Up until this point in my life, I have been content to live in casual-Friday attire every single day of forever, because, hey, that’s just what we creatives do, and if people don’t like it, they can suck it. So there. But I’m thinking that may not be my best approach here. Make trip to Macy’s sale rack. Avoid denim.
- Resume refinement of writing projects in preparation for biggest presentation of my FREAKING LIFE, which, by the way, must be summed up in approximately 3 minutes, leaving approximately 7 minutes for me to be raked over the coals by brutal, cut-throat agent who hates run-on sentences.
- Resume berating my own writing and comparing it to every other successful writer in the history of mankind, inventing reasons for my writing to end up in the bottom of agent’s trash heap. Drink wine.
- Repeat steps as necessary until June.