We’ve all heard the expression, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” We’ve heard, “Life imitates art.” But yesterday, I birthed its love child. Meet, “You are seriously, never in a billion years, ehv-er, going to believe this.” Born, Wednesday, September 12th at approximately 2:30 PM/PST.
I had twenty pages to go on my Phoenix Five revision. Right on schedule. After I sent draft two to my editor I would post my Blah-g, and then file my quarterly taxes. A to-do-list-lover’s dream day.
Being human, I took a break and bought a salad from a fancy, organic, vegan, healthy-high-horse, we’re-awesome-‘cause-we-eat-kale-instead-of-anything-with-eyes-or-lungs-and-our-yogurt-has-live-active-cultures-in-it kind of place. And a Coke Zero. (Human remember?)
I returned to my desk to eat and finish off my last twenty pages. This being one of them.
Can you zoom that blue box on the right? It’s a note from Erin, my editor. She is telling me to stop making so many “barf” references. She thinks there are too many in the book. She suggested I have Duffy feel “dizzy” instead. I agreed and made the change. I typed “dizzy” and (here’s the freaky part) I began to feel dizzy. I typed “sweaty” and began to sweat. I re-read the barfing moment and I swear I began to dry heave.
I started to panic.
Twenty-Five Things You don’t Know About Me.
1 through 25: I HATE PUKING.
I get it, no one likes it. But it is one of my biggest fears EVER! I’d rather be trapped in a crowded elevator and have violent diarrhea than puke in privacy. Also, I have never puked in a toilet. I can’t possibly see how sticking my head in a contaminated bowl is supposed to make me feel better. Plastic bags or trash cans only. So trash can it was.
I was crying, sweating, and dying alone. I wanted to text Kevy my life-crush but I couldn’t move. Eventually I managed.
I reach out to Siri. Thank gawd someone was there for me.
Ca-lling Ke-vy Harrison.
He answered on the first ring, “Hey, babe!”
I couldn’t help wondering how someone could be that close to his phone and not notice the texts. But I was too weak to fight.
He walked into my office five minutes later, laughed, and said, “Holy sH!# you look bad.”
Again, too weak to fight.
I think we rode home in our golf cart. I don’t remember.
I called the restaurant today to tell them about their evil food. They offered me a free yogurt. I invited them to join me in a crowded elevator.
Off to do my taxes now. Jealous?
P.S. Thank you for the positive feedback on the new site. I know some of you miss the old one so to help you acclimate we are working to bring back the old background, or at least get a familiar color scheme going. Let me know if that helps once it’s installed.