To the Managing Editor of Penguin Books:
I am writing to you to ask why I do not yet have a book deal. Granted, I have never asked for one, nor do I currently have anything to peddle, but after reading "Bright Lights, Big Ass" I feel that the road has been paved for me to ask for an advance.
Now, I understand how hard it is to write comedy. Once upon a time, before my brain was sucked out by a two-year-old and replaced with strawberry-banana snacks and a random medley of Dora the Explorer, Blue's Clues, and the weird but rather infectious music of Cirque de Soleil, I was considered by many to be, if not funny, at least fun at parties. Since my current level of conversation has sunk to fake laughing at sixteen versions of the same nonsensical joke ("the muffin in the bathtub said to the other muffin 'no no no!'"), I no longer claim to be either interesting or funny, although I still look really hot in leather pants.
That said, I do believe that I could do better than Ms. Lancaster.
First, I am much kinder to both immigrants and small animals. I do not think it is funny to assume all Arabic people are terrorists, or find it amusing to harass telemarketers with fake pidgin Spanish. When getupgrrl wrote the Nigerian money scammers back asking them if she could get a new uterus, now that was funny. (Seriously, dudes, stop writing me. You are not fooling me when you write that my bank account deposit made on April 14th has a problem, because I DO NOT BANK IN FRENCH. If you are going to do a phishing scam, at least write in the person's native language.)
Second, I do not watch Fox news, ever. That alone should land me a book deal.
Third, I do not work out in my pearls, because not only is that ostentatious, it is bad for your jewelry. I know how to take care of jewelry, therefore you should give me lots of money so I can buy some to take care of. And yes, I know that ended in a preposition, but since you haven't given me any money yet you can suck on it.
Finally, when I whine, it is a whine with soul. It is a whine with body, with flavor, with depth. You will not hear about how -- horrors!-- I had to go to the OBGYN and get a pap smear. No, you will hear how I had clamps shoved up my vagina and radioactive dye shot through my uterus without pain meds.
Instead of one fifteen minute period without power to make my coffee, you will hear me whine about the Russian mob, government workers, and not showering for weeks.
Look, my life may suck, but it is a good read.
In anticipation of my huge advance, I am cleaning out the guest room to have a place to keep my stacks of money. If you would also like to forward a new couch or a digital camera, either would be an acceptable signing bonus.
Yours truly, etc. etc.
Soper
P.S. Cat, Galloping would buy that book.
Posted by: Cat, Galloping | June 07, 2007 at 09:15 PM
That book (not yours) sounds terrible.
Go for it! Let's see what you've got! (other than here!)
Posted by: Spacemom | June 08, 2007 at 10:18 AM
Perhaps they would be more persuaded to publish your writing if you showed us all your couch?
Posted by: Boulder | June 09, 2007 at 02:00 AM
I'd only read your hypothetical book if you put a picture of your couch on the cover.
Posted by: Carmen | June 09, 2007 at 09:40 AM
Yeah, the money shot of the couch would send it to the top of the NY Times Bestseller list!
Posted by: Miss W | June 09, 2007 at 07:26 PM
Will buy book, with or without couch photo on the cover. Start writing!
Posted by: SheilaC | June 11, 2007 at 05:50 PM
Where oh where is Grrl? Laughed out loud remembering the "send me a uterus" post. Now granted ,I don't blog anymore either. But no one MISSES me.
Posted by: | June 20, 2007 at 08:54 PM
Beautiful!! Couldn't agree more.
Posted by: lorrie | July 14, 2007 at 05:28 AM
Just back-tracking on the blogging. This post, and so many other things, make you my hero.
Posted by: Haley Elkins | October 03, 2007 at 10:19 PM