A Site Named After My Own Heart



An excerpt from Some Girls is up at The Nervous Breakdown today. There’s also a self-interview. I didn’t realize how awesome the idea of a self-interview was until I had done my umpteenth interview in which the questions didn’t go much further than what the girls in Prince Jefri’s harem ate for breakfast and if I still have all of those Armani gowns.

Also, I did my first signing yesterday, at the LA Times Festival of Books. The biggest thrill for me was signing books to people who didn’t know me at all, people who had wandered by and thought the book looked interesting. Another thrill was finally meeting fellow Plume author Julie Klausner. Her memoir, I Don’t Care About Your Band, is hysterical. That’s us in the above picture, along with Rachel Kramer Bussel.

I’ll be schlepping back across town today to catch the “Writing about Sex” panel with Rachel Resnick, Stephen Elliott, Rachel Kramer Bussel and John Freeman. Rachel Kramer Bussel is a Renaissance gal who not only writes about sex, she also writes about cupcakes. I’ll be bringing her some red velvets from my local fave breakfast spot, Auntie Em’s, in an attempt to convince her that they’re the best cupcakes in LA.

And for all you Glendale Galleria-goers…yes, that’s a Bumpit in my hair.

No Comment

Taffy Brodesser-Akner has an interesting piece in the Times today about nasty comments she received on a piece she wrote about her experience with Postpartum Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I found it pertinent, considering the fact that the comments about Gendy Alimurung’s piece on Some Girls in the LA Weekly were so incendiary they got their whole own post, The Vagina Dialogues.

In an earlier post, I poked fun at myself for feeling a wee bit thin skinned during my virgin voyage into internet viciousness. I’ve actually come to a place now in which I welcome the dialogue. It just took a minute to adjust to this huge transition, in which I’ve effectively entirely traded in my privacy. I’m not complaining, it was a choice I made consciously. But it has catalyzed a sea change in my relationship with the world around me.

I skimmed Taffy’s comments to see how her experiment in engaging with the commenters was going, but I had to stop when I got to the misogynistic comment basically equating the value of any “personal” articles about “pregnancy or post-partum whatever” with that of the Youtube video of a cat playing the piano.

It saddened me, to tell you the truth. I don’t have the stomach for that shit this early in the morning. I’m going to go cleanse my palate and do something soul-enriching, like watching that live webcam of the squirrels eating in weird obsessive dioramas. I’ve included a slideshow above, if you’d care to join me.

Be The First On Your Block


Can’t wait until the April 27th release date of Some Girls? I’ll be signing copies at The LA Times Festival of Books this weekend. I’ll be with Tony DuShane at the Book Soup booth on Saturday at 5pm (booth 330 in zone C). Come by and see me. Tariku will be there tossing books at the heads of passers by.

Also, at 8:30 AM on Thursday, you can hear me do a heavily caffeinated interview on The Peter Tilden Morning Show. It’ll be streaming live at www.kabc.com.

Watch Where You’re Going With That Pitchfork


So here’s the sad truth- when people call me a fat, middle-aged, opportunistic, talentless, skank, it sometimes HURTS MY FEELINGS! Sniffle, sniffle. Whine. Eat. Call for emergency botox touch-up. And for some reason, the self-hater within would much prefer to dwell on the negative rantings of people who in other times would be holding pitchforks and waiting with a match at every witch burning within a donkey-ride of their village, than on the much larger list of the supportive comments of people who have told me that they’re inspired by my honesty. But I’m trying, I really am, to go where the love is.

Thank Goddess for the “Block this Asshole” option on Facebook.

Being theoretically prepared for the release of my memoir is different from the reality of having my guts spilling out of those little box thingys that hold the free newspapers all over town. This is shaping up to be quite a ride.

A porn star/author friend of mine told me to hold my head up and dare them to think poorly of me. And she should know.

One week until the book is released. Here we go…