Dealing with Fans and Street Recognition

I am preparing myself for the inevitable growth in my popularity and general fame across the United States and probably also in Germany. It's going to be difficult sneaking out the back of our house, and climbing the fence to avoid the throngs of fans outside of my front door. I have purchased a blond wig, gigantic sunglasses, and a floppy hat--did not wear them out today, as people in this neighborhood are slow to catch on to the latest thing. It's the same old story--person gets book published from small academic press that circulates three hundred copies on obscure Web sites and her life is never the same due to the overwhelming response of the nation.

I am in Rocket Cat again, listening to the inane conversation between the barrista (not the mean one; this girl is nice, she's just loud) and a slight bearded kid in a hoodie. The girl is one of those people with a big voice who periodically does something really theatrical liking yelling, Ta-da! when she pulls a bagel out of the toaster. She just said, I was going to mean to people today and not talk to anyone but I just can't do it! He said, I know! It's not in your personality. (And also, it's kind of your job). Girl: "Is your dad British? Does he ever want to go back to the Motherland?" She thinks she's clever but she isn't.

We're supposed to buy a Christmas tree today, but Shawn has also had a hell week and so doesn't feel like doing much of anything. I have most of my shopping done, but not all. I can't stand to leave things until the last minute, though I will most likely put off cleaning the house as long as possible.

Woke up yesterday to find a kitty cat nesting in our window flowerbox. I opened the door, thinking it would scare the cat away, but she leaped out and over the mailbox to butt her head against me. I immediately had to bring her in. Shawn was irritated but also intrigued to see how the other cats would react. Henri hissed and hid, of course, and Ernesto trailed after her, curious. (I think she's a she). She didn't mind--was just happy to be inside and given some food and water. Like Ernesto when we first got him, she immediately fell asleep in the ghetto box top bed with towels in it. This morning, I came back from Circle Thrift to find the cat curled up in Shawn's lap. He's a sucker. He wants to call her Eleanor. She is an Eleanor. She isn't that cute, but has cool orange eyes and meows like Gretel did. We are not keeping her, I don't think. Please ask around to see if anyone wants a cat. Three is just three too many. Stop us before we become this:


Oh, shit, the mean barissta just wheeled her bike inside. Maybe she's just stopping in? She's wearing a self-righteous t-shirt that reads, "I Don't Do Windows and I Don't Do Drugs."

Padhraig is moving to Philadelphia today, or he did yesterday or something. He got a tenure track job in New Jersey and so now he will be within a five mile radius of us. I am sure we will never see each other. That's what happens when someone moves closer, you find it easier to put off seeing them since they're nearby and you can kind of visit them any time. We are going to a party with him and Carrie tonight. I'm attempting to steal all of Carrie's friends (and turn them against her).

Comments

Anonymous said…
hey lady, sorry your attempt failed....mwhahahaha. Why can't we all just get along...tis the season! You better watch out on New Year's Eve, cos I'm gonna smack you with a kiss ~ Carrie
Aimee said…
I can't wait!

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