It Sucked. Then I met Dooce. Then it Sucked Less.

So, I was lying there, right, in a puddle of my own milk.

Luckily, the World's leading Avon Sales Rep was wearing a festive patriotic scarf.

Today I curled my hair.

Me: Hi Heather. Remember me?
Heather:
Me: Crazed fan who tried to feature you in Domino last year?
Heather: YES!! Aw girl, I'm sorry you lost your job.
Me: I didn't...I quit...and then I got deported from London..anyway...
Heather:
Me: So, I wanted to come meet you again SO BADLY that I actually asked my ex-boyfriend to come with me because I knew I'd be too awkward to fly solo.
Heather: Nuh uh!
Bee: So I came with her instead!!
Heather: (to bee) Thank you.

Heather: (to me) What do you do now?
Me: I'M AN INTERIOR DESIGNER (sparkles start shooting out of my nose)
Heather: Awesome!
Me: (turning on my heels) So, ya know, if you ever need a designer (awkwardly winked, more like a fleeting attack of bells palsey)
Heather: HAHAHA
...walks away...leaving my jacket on the floor...have to come back...
Me: Oops....left my..jacket...
...runs away, squeeling...

Me and Dooce, last year. We got kicked out of the bar where the signing was held. Obv.
So she and Jon patiently decided to stand in the street to sign books and take pictures.
LOVE.
(note, the way her hand is almost claw-like, it an attempt to not touch me.)
It's ok. I understand. I didn't know I was meeting you that day. If I were you, I wouldn't have
wanted to touch me either.

Last night, I made the game-time decision to wrestle my tortured soul away from the jaws of my AutoCad class and attend the reading and book signing of "It Sucked and Then I Cried" by Heather B. Armstrong, aka Dooce of Dooce.com, aka my person I most admire and the only blog I read daily.

"It sucked and Then I Cried" is a hilarious and touching account of what Heather went through with the pregnancy, birth, and post-partum depression with her daughter Leta. I write this post sleep deprived and feeling quite ill, as I was up past midnight reading, until I turned into a Gremlin and needed to pass out.

I met the Doocer last year as well, and she and Augusten Burroughs take the cake for me, as being the two people I most admire who exceed my expectations as hilarious and sweet, down-to-earth people in person, as much as they are in their writing.

Go buy the book, and maybe some adult diapers because if you don't pee while reading it, you have a very unfortunate sense of humor and I'm sorry.

As for me, when I'm done reading this book, Im' going to place it on my Shelf of Signed First Editions (which is large), aka, the reason why I don't have a boyfriend. The I'm going to pat myself on the back for making it my personal business to befriend my favorite authors to procure such a collection.

And now, I'm off to work. Ta ta!

xo RJS