So last week, according to the stars, I was experiencing my luckiest day of the year. Middle Chicken, Little Chicken and I spend the weekend perusing horoscopes after our saging session and find the week includes my luckiest day. Who knew? Since I still clock into a regular day job, dreams are not fulfilled. Ridiculousness, however, certainly is. A little recap for your amusement? My pleasure.
Written that very day…
The horoscope says today is my luckiest day of the year. Hmm–what exactly does one do with that information when one still has to get up at the crack of dawn and go to work? I admit to butterflies and anticipation round every corner since I will, basically, believe anything. My bullshit meter has never performed at its peak. And, after all, today is my luckiest day of the year.
Long time Best Girl called a bit ago to see if I’d like to lunch. Don’t let any opportunity get by; of course I say yes. Nothing happens but we have a nice visit. So lunch wasn’t it. I pitch a tv and radio commercial to my COO. It was put on the back burner by the CEO but, I figure, being my luckiest day of the year and all, I should probably make the pitch today. Nothing happens so that’s not it.
I sit at my desk, working myself into a frenzy over what the day may have in store. I’m a bit bored so imagine what it might be.
Ring-ring. That’s the phone. It’s Mogul Man–remember him from indecent proposal in LA? I have no hard feelings. He’s adorable and any woman who says she’s not flattered is a liar. Don’t let your pants burst into flame while you judge me.
“Oh Mogul Man, Bonjour Dahling. How are you??” Be nothing if not magnificent in your daydreams, am I right?
“Beautiful–I am well. I am calling because I just finished the book,” says Mogul Man.
“And…” say I, coy and disinterested as can be.
“I love it. I totally love it. Here’s what I see.” He sounds excited. “Of course we are going to do the book. That’s a given doll (I called him doll all weekend; must have rubbed off on him) but we also see this going further.”
“In what way,” say I, sounding calm but have already peed myself. My life is made just getting the book published.
“Honey (remember he likes me?) the book is hands down, a best seller and we are going to put all our best people on it starting today (in that real fast way that Moguls talk) but we see this on the big screen.”
“Oh Mogul, you aren’t serious?” I pretend to stay calm but am on the floor, completely fetal. “What does this mean? What’s next? What do I do?”
“Well, here’s the run down. We’ll need you here next week for writing and rewriting and editing and casting.”
“Mogul, I have a job and children home for summer and two cats.” You know like you would if someone were offering you the dream of every living writer.
“No matter doll. We’ve got you set up at the Beverly Hilton (of Pretty Woman fame). They welcome cats and kids. They’ll walk the cats.” (Remember, we’re talking LA.) “We’ve also brought in shoes and pearls and champagne.” You know, like they would.
“Oh Mogul, this is amazing. But I have a job. I don’t know how to work all this out.” Bama Southern is rubbing off on me. Pretend to need a little help and then go in for the kill.
“Baby Doll–that little life is over. We’ve got a million dollar advance on a three book deal that goes to auction next week if you agree.”
Despite having a seizure, I keep my voice steady. “So when do I come?”
“You let us know when you’re ready; but we are thinking this weekend.”
“Allright,” sigh I. “Let me run down the hall and talk to my boss.”
I don’t know about you. But that’s how my luckiest day goes. Dream small right? Try it. See if you can give yourself butterflies. And make sure you keep your phone close. You don’t want to miss a call do you?
In actuality, luckiest day of the year came and went with no phone call. I did get word from Goddess Daughter in the know that secret project moved on to a set of hands that can get the ball rolling and that Lit Assistant and Mogul Man do have book in hand. So, perhaps the stars were wrong on what exactly luckiest day will be. What I know is this. When I returned from LA, Baby Chicken posted a little magic marker artwork on the fridge. “Keep your circle small and your dreams big.” As always, Chickens know best.
So the mind wanders to the small circle. Because there are girlfriends taking the trip with me that’s for certain: My dolls in the woods that day, the Chickens, Goddess Daughter and Mogul Man, along with Sisterella and the Yayas. Sisterella, by the way, already bought her dress for the Awards Shows–no kidding she really did. When Sisterella spies a bargain she makes the sale regardless of future use. Something always springs up. Middle Chicken and I preview said dress over splashes.
It’s a to-die-for navy number, all ruched and gorgeous. For Sisterella, though, it’s missing a certain Sisterella flair. So she’s adding a shoulder bow and silver pumps. I can see it and it is indeed a stunner. We practice our presentation and she says her nails need be done just so; so when she puts her glam hands in the nail cam, they are swoon worthy. Sisterella’s nails won’t simply walk in, hers will shimmy in with a little side kick. And she’ll do it. So next year when you see two lunatic chicks guffawing at the nail cam and one’s pinky is doing some side kick action, you’ll know you’ve met Sisterella. And success.
Funny thing about success–there’s not a bitch in sight. Except me.