There’s been a request for a second Q and A session. Now that Amour is out of infancy, people feel a kinship. Smiley face. They take a bit of ownership and feel free to share their thoughts. Straight line face. There are even those who believe I have a tolerance for the opinions of others. Frowny face. I really don’t but will answer the questions popping up again and again. Here goes.
Q: Have you started dating yet?
A: Bite my big fat ass. No, I have not gone on a date. Do you really think I’d skip information so squee-worthy? If that day ever comes it will be a comedy of errors demanding secret spillage. It’s not gonna happen until I encounter someone with bigger balls than me. That looks to be a long way off. Right now, it’s me, The Chickens, two cats and a lot of wine.
Q: Where did you move?
A: To a condo; still in Scottsdale. I’ll never leave the hood. The rental house was perfect but my landlord awoke one morning to a vision that the little house morphed into the taj mahal and sought gobs of extra rent. Not happening on my watch. I live in a condo where someone else takes care of the details like garbage and lawn and water and pool cleaning and wiping down the workout machines. BTW–whomever doesn’t wipe down the machines–asshat. You are gross and will die alone. I’m not all that affected as I’ve never set foot in the gym but I can see it when I get the mail. And I’ve heard there are people who don’t wipe down.
Q: Where do you work?
A: State secret. I’m in PR. That is all. Two reasons. I want to keep the job that buys groceries and pinot grigio and I like to observe the workplace for ideas. If they know who I am, my cover’s blown. On the other hand–if you have PR needs, dial my digits. I’m good.
Q: How many readers?
A: 30,000. More interesting than the amount is the where–Malaysia, France, Spain, Portugal, Zimbabwe, Germany, Brazil and various vacation spots of friends. Yes, dears, I can see where you travel. I also envision myself in these extraordinary meccas instead of cursing an outdated Mac loaded with Windows 2004.
Q: Does Sororoity Sister live near you?
A: Nope. Poor darling still lives in Minnesota. I know. I feel sorry for her too but apparently she’s not budging and neither am I. She visits and I promise to go to her cabin. Hopefully, my now thinned Arizona blood will prove less tasty to the 747-sized mosquitos that inhabit the state.
Q: Where’s the book?
A: In publishing quagmire land. It’s at a standstill as to what to do with it–develop it, publish it. My feelings? Get off your asses already and make a decision so I can start a 401k bitches.
Q: Why don’t you have pictures?
A: Because I love words and believe imagination is a muscle that must be used in order to work. But I have promised many I will oblige. I will not show you The Chickens, The Norwegian or myself but I will show you heinous outerwear, gorgeous under things and what you should be wearing. And various people we should be laughing at while pointing fingers.
Q: Did you really stop wearing pearls? (Number one question, btw.)
A: Depends. Will I run into the business advisor advising against them? If so, statement necklacing in hues of gold will do. Silver will never touch my body. If I am free to be me, like a wildebeast in the forest, then you will find my neck draped more elaborately than dear Coco herself.
Q: Do you smoke?
A: What? If I smoked you could not appeciate my magificent parisian perfume or the scent of my freshly doused curls. Not for a moment would I deprive you of such luxury. Besides my house smells like Capri Blue Aloha Orchid candles. Scent is sent from heaven above and I would not sully that with the stench of a cigarette. Pfft.
Q:Are you funny in person?
A: No. Snark is a connection with myself and the dark words tornadoing (Look it up–its a word. Sure, it’s in Urban Dictionary, but that counts right? ) about in my head. If I had my druthers, it would be me and a fine piece of linen paper paired with an inkwell.
Q: How many cats do you have? Are you a crazy cat lady?
A: Two–both rescued from the pound and the most spoiled animals padding about the earth. No, not the crazy cat lady ‘cuz I really hate the litter box. If I could teach them to use a toilet, there would indeed be a problem.
Q: Is Sisterella really that funny?
A: Yes, yes and yes. You need her at any and all of your parties.
Q: Are you planning any changes?
A: Yes. After a while, widow floundering is only so funny. There is only so long the misadventures of former socialites provide fodder. Some changes have been advised: posting everyday, posting some shorter pieces and including photos. Some people want Scottsdale gossip. Sorry, I’m not in the know and I really don’t care. I’m still digging out of the shitstorm that is my own life and that’s more gossip than one girl can handle. Pfft.
Q: What’s most surprising about your readers?
A: The younger girls and the number of guys. I have lots of guys who take me aside and tell me, in hushed tones, that they follow along. They hide Amour De Ma Vie the way they hide porn. No judgment–just keep reading boys.
So–this week–per your requests: Look for everyday posts, a thing called Random Thought of the Day, photos to snark and squee over and, of course, stories that shock and amaze. I’m even considering, “Asshat of the Week.” We’ll see. Comments always welcome. Criticism? Mmmmm, not so much.