OK, everyone. It’s Tuesday. Tuesday the 17th. Of APRIL. You know what that means, right? DEADLINE DAY.
I mean, sure, tomorrow and Thursday will still be a little crazy – I play a lot of catchup the days following deadline day, with filing and other work I’ve been putting off, and listen, before you’re all WAH WAH FILING there is NO AIR CONDITIONING IN THE GD FILE ROOM SO EFFING HOOOTTTT – but after that, I have a half-day Thursday (well, a 3/4 day, we get out at 3:30) and a day off on Friday. Which kind of gets eaten up by a doctor’s appointment, annoying. But DAY OFF! And TAX SEASON WILL BE OVER! Then I only have one more week of work until vacation! My dad’s VERY EXCITED about my arrival. He is making all kinds of plans. Now we’re going to eat at a restaurant ON THE BEACH ZOMG. I got to do that when I visited California once and it was fan-freaking-tastic. I told Dad I was going to order seafood and then brandish my fork full of seafood tauntingly at the ocean. He said, “Well, we’ll be sure to get a table really far away from everyone. Because that might get us kicked out. Or at least looked at like we’re crazy.” I CAN NOT WAIT. Oh, Twitter’s totally coming with me on vacation. Won’t that be fun? I mean, probably not at all as fancy as the time Ken took us all to Berlin, but were there KOOKABURRAS and GIGANTIC FLEA MARKETS in Berlin? OK, fine, probably there were. But I don’t think Ken went to them. And I AM going to them. So THERE, I’m totally a bon vivant. I’m not the world-travelling part of it but I’m the bon-vivanty part of it. I’m going to ROCK being a bon vivant.
(SIDE NOTE about the flea market. I’m kind of obsessed with flea markets? And my dad knows that. And he likes them, too. And apparently there’s a HUGE one right next to where we’re staying. So Dad went to scope it out for when I come to visit. He adorably said, “Guess what I SAW at the FLEA MARKET yesterday?” when I talked to him, and when I said, “What?” he said, “A WHOLE TABLE OF NAIL POLISH!” I love the idea of my big old dad scoping out the nailpolish table. I said, “Was any of it sparkly?” and he said, “Some of it was VERY sparkly.” He totally knows what nail polish I like. The gaudy glittery kind. Also, he said, “I hope no one who’s coming to Florida likes silver jewelry, because there were tables and tables of it!” I LOVE SILVER JEWELRY. This is going to be a total win for me. He assures me there are no fleas, so I find the name of the market a little misleading. I’d like there to be a flea circus or something flea-RELATED, at least. I mean, they could at least TRY.)
Oh, and also I found out that something fun and exciting is going to happen on my trip down! My dad hung out with his cousin, and found out that my second cousin and his family are coming to Florida on the SAME TEENY TINY PLANE as I am in a couple of weeks! I haven’t seen my cousin in – hell, over twenty years? I think he was probably just about to graduate high school the last time I saw him, and I was a few years younger than him. ANYWAY, so he’s some sort of big-time fancy cop now, and I totally want to TRICK him. I want to scope out the people getting on the plane, figure out which one he is (I mean, how hard can it be, he’s supposedly super-tall and handsome, with a pretty wife, around my age, and two pre-teen daughters. On a plane that seats about 50, how many people fitting that criteria can there be?) Then I’m going to sidle over like I’m a perpetrator? And I’m going to look all shifty-eyed at him. And then I’m going to say his name, like I’m a stalker. And that will make him all NERVOUS. Because he’s a COP. Then I’ll tell him who I am! Because I’m pretty sure he won’t remember me. I don’t look anything like the book-larnin’ kiddo I was the last time he saw me, all reading a book in the corner and afraid to look him in the eye. Or anyone, really. Anyone in the eye. Then we will be the best of friends and I will say hi to his wife and kids, who I have never met. (My mother told me that probably his dad will tell him to keep an eye out for me. If that’s the case, this top-secret plan will fall to bits. TO BITS I TELL YOU.)
This is going to be random and kind of short tonight. As if you couldn’t tell already. I have a million things to do and I’m utterly wiped. And tomorrow’s going to be worse, so I should at least TRY to get some sleep. Even th0ugh it’s probably not meant to be.
Oh, shit, I totally won ANOTHER AWARD I am turning down! I think I deserve an award for turning down awards. Jessica at Shh…Mommy’s Blogging nominated me for a Beautiful Blogger award. As always, aw! Thanks! But I’m turning it down. Because I hate nominating people for things and bothering people and I think these things might be like the internet version of a chain letter. But, THANK YOU SO NICE I’M AN ASSHOLE! Also, Jessica said, and I quote, “Plus, I’ve heard that in real life (Amy’s) easy on the eyes.” Aw, you! But whoever you heard that from is mistaken. I’m quite plainly average. I do have a jazzy butt-chin, though. You know, the kind that people totally get plastic surgery to get? I got one naturally. THROUGH GENETICS. And a bitchin’ widow’s peak. Like a 20’s movie star. Otherwise? Plain as an Amish woman hanging laundry with wooden pins while wearing a bonnet. I blend into the background like a ghost. Or a redshirt. I’d totally be the one to die to prove a point on some sad sci-fi drama from the 60s. Sorry to disappoint. Nothing easy about me, eyes-wise, mental-wise, trying-one’s-patience-wise. Totally sweet of you to say, though.
So I can’t check Twitter at work anymore, so I missed this whole kerfuffle, but apparently the Pulitzer Prize winners were announced today – and they couldn’t decide on a fiction winner, so decided not to award one this year. That seems kind of asshatty. I mean, they had it down to three finalists, and there were three judges, and I guess the rules are, if they can’t agree on a majority winner, there isn’t a winner. Well, if those are the rules, fine. I get rules. I’m down with ruleyness. But I mean, you’ve got three books. Three books that made it through all the hoops and got all the way to being Pulitzer-Prize nominated. Do you really feel SO STRONGLY about your choice that you can’t set it aside so one of those three books, which are probably all equally deserving, can win the Pulitzer? I mean, it’s really about the publicity, more than anything. It helps sell books. Don’t you want one of those three authors to sell more books? Don’t you want more people to READ more books? I think it’s shitty not to award one at all.
And, and, AND, one of the books was my best book of the year last year! Karen Russell’s Swamplandia!
OK, so listen. Maybe it didn’t WIN the Pulitzer? But this is a Pulitzer-Prize-nominated book; it’s Amy from Lucy’s Football’s top book of 2011; the author’s cute as a damn button and she’s only 29 so you COULD hate her a little but let’s celebrate that talent instead; and the poetry and sadness and wonder in this book just oozes off the pages. You get lost in this book. You mourn with this book. You thrill with this book. So, yes, I absolutely think there should have been a Pulitzer Prize winner for fiction this year. And it should have been Swamplandia! But even if it wasn’t chosen, you can read it. That’ll teach those non-choosy bastards a lesson, now, won’t it?
OK. I’m off to bed. Early. It’s 73 kabillion degrees here so I’m taking a freezing shower and lying in front of a fan. IN APRIL. Yep. I’m a delicate bloom, me.
Send good thoughts. Tomorrow’s going to be the worst? But it only gets better from here. I think I can, I think I can.