When White People Freak Out

So one thing they don’t tell you when you actually sell your book (huzzah!) is how much you will freak out like, say, a month before it’s published. Because you start to hear things. Like, if it doesn’t fly off the shelves in the first two weeks you’re basically screwed and will never write in this town again, missy. And also? The freaking out? Might be related to the fact that the “Book stuff to do” list now has more words than all three books in The Lord of the Rings. And you are starting to look an awful lot like Gollum. A pale, procrastinating Gollum.

So to distract yourself you watch documentaries about rape in the Congo or Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job! And then get pissed because their Chicago show is sold out and you NEVER get to see any weird and brilliant comedians. Your parents do, because they’re cool. But you? You are not cool. You are too busy freaking out and adding to the Book stuff to do list. Or thinking about adding to it, and later berating yourself for not writing down those 'great ideas' you had earlier.

Not that I’m freaking out or anything. Not that I was rooting around the fridge for snacks tonight, found some ancient freezer-burned eggrolls and actually mused out loud, “Yeah, I’ll eat that,” and then considered what a great idea a weekly “Yeah, I’ll eat that!” blog feature might be, in which I eat dubious things I find in my fridge or cupboards, things that may or may not have melted or evaporated or solidified or done all kinds of elemental gymnastics to render them completely devoid of taste and nutrition. I even thought, “Hey! Yeah! I could have pictures of me eating the mystery materials that began their life in a food-state. What a great goddamn idea!!!”

Well no, I don’t really want to inflict such pain on my digestive system because all this worrying is already doing enough of a number on it. (Hello! Your intestines would like to petition for daily meditation and yoga and a vacation and relaxing things you tend to avoid!)

So anyway, yes, things are happening on the book front. Driving Sideways will be a Target Break-Out book this summer (where’s my fainting couch? WHERE’S MY FAINTING COUCH!?) and hey, guess what? It’s an eBook, too! For the bargain basement price of ten dollars. I feel all up with technology now. Even though I probably couldn’t figure out how to read my own ebook. You are, after all, reading someone who still wings it with her digital camera, despite the fact that it’s chock-full of neat-o, keen-o features. Every video clip I shoot ends with me shouting to J, “How do I turn it off?”

Here’s a fun story for you: my editor is also working on the book by the guy behind Stuff White People Like. I got all embarrassed because the latest entry said white people like New Balance running shoes, and guess who just bought a new pair of New Balance running shoes? Yeah, well, in my defense, I only bought them because they emerged slightly ahead of the other shoe contenders when I had to weigh comfort vs. ugliness. And yes, they are ugly. I feel like I’m wearing mesh diaper paddles on my feet. Comfortable, pillow-like mesh diaper paddles.

Also, I like Target, dinner parties, San Francisco, free healthcare, bad memories of high school, standing still at concerts, recycling, public radio, indie music, Arrested Development, The Daily Show, renovations, vegetarianism, breakfast places, Mos Def, difficult breakups, and I have threatened to move to Canada. Yeah, that's right. I'm so white I'm practically translucent.

(PS: I know this might shock you, but not all white people like public radio. Some of them like Rush Limbaugh and listen to him outdoors while building a new porch in the neighborhood. And then others, who do like public radio, blast Garden Talk through their living room windows.)