Ouch. Miserable, dumb, pain-in-the-ass ouch.
As posted yesterday, my first reading from Perfect From Now On took place last night, and it was followed by way, way too much celebratory drinking. Although it's murky, I'll estimate that I consumed somewhere upwards of ten pints of beer, one shot of Wild Turkey, and a "JÃ¤ger Bomb," whatever the hell that is. On a scale from one to ten, my hangover rates a 37.
Which makes it very hard to gloat about how successful my reading was last night. I achieved every single one of my goals. Did I manage not to throw up during the reading? Yes! Did I name-check John Ritter? Yes! Did I refrain from going on a tear about how much I hate having to read in public? Yes! Did an albino midget show up? Okay, so one of my goals eluded me. Maybe next reading.
The hangover is also making it hard to enjoy March 6, the date my book officially goes on sale. I should be at my local bookstore next to the display of Perfect From Now Ons begging shoppers to buy my book. "Hey, lady!" I should be saying right now. "Little book? Little book for you?" If I were to do that in my current state, police would have to be called. Or pest control. I smell like a rodent.
Sadly, that's all the time I have for today, and by that I mean that it's time to go back to bed and moan into my pillow. But tomorrow I will return with, what, 1,000 words? 2,000? In the meantime, if you need to satisfy what I presume is now your sizable craving for John Sellers, head over to Pop Candy to hear my Podcast interview with Whitney Matheson and to read the entire first chapter of my book.
And if anyone has any aspirin, would you please leave some in the comments section?