The Wrath of Kate... by Tucker, The Mistreated PDA

Kate threatened me today.

You wouldn't think her capable, would you? But underneath that chipper, Pollyanna exterior lies the heart of a tyrant. A tyrant who has quite a vocabulary of swear words. In multiple languages.

I didn't even do anything to deserve her wrath. Not really, anyway. I mean, yeah—I may have acted a touch difficult. I think I was justified though.

For the past two months, Kate's ignored me. And not because she's been on vacation. Oh no, mon frère—she's been hanging out with Rodrigo, that overweight laptop.

Simple jealousy? Hell no. I'll leave that for that big-ass silver monstrosity Rodrigo. I'm happy sharing her time. I'm saying you can't ignore me for two months and then suddenly come back to me and expect the world. Geez, dude, let me get juiced up and back in the groove. Get to know me again first. Give me a little love.

So, yeah, I probably came off as a bit obstinate, as Kate put it (her actual words can't be repeated—hard to believe she kisses her mom with that mouth). Can you blame me?

And now she's given up on me. I heard her tell someone she was thinking of going back to my nemesis, the Pocket PC from HP. I thought we had something going, but at the first sign of trouble she just up and deserts me. I wouldn't have thought her capable of it—she seems like she'd be a loyal person.

Bummer, huh?

Saturday Mornings of Old

I'm not in the mood to blog. Frankly, I just turned in my revisions today and all I want is to lie around and read something someone else toiled to write.

It's a shame too, because we had a really great conversation about Saturday morning cartoons over dinner on this weekend. Nate and I were at his parents' house along with Carol (a good family friend) and her teenage daughter Kay. It went a little something like this:

Kay: They should come out with a movie starring the Green Lantern. He's seriously underrepresented compared to other superheroes.
Nate: Because he was lame.
Kay: But he had a really cool ring. And a lantern. (pause) Okay, maybe he was a little lame.
Me: Saturday mornings aren't the same without the Justice League.
Nate: I know.
Nate's Mom: I thought you and your brother watched Sesame Street on Saturday mornings.
Nate: No, that's just what we told you we were watching.
Kay: My mom wouldn't let me watch Sesame Street.
Carol: I didn't like the example Bert and Ernie set. They treated each other horribly.
Nate: Bert and Ernie defined my childhood relationship with my brother.
Me: Were you Bert or Ernie?
Nate: Definitely Bert. Though I have always been partial to orange stripes.

See? It would have been great if I had it in me to write it out.

Of course, the conversation was rather incomplete—we didn't even mention School House Rock. How could we have missed SHR?? SHR is the only reason I ever remember the process a bill goes through to get ratified.

About the Author

The deadline for my revisions is nigh approaching, and I've been wrestling to pull everything together. Which isn't just the book but also the dedication, acknowledgments, and the bio.

I frickin' hate writing all that stuff.

The acknowledgments are bad, because invariably you forget someone important. But the bio is the worst. The only positive about writing a bio is I get to talk about myself in the third person. For some reason, that tickles me. I must have some recessed boy gene in my makeup.

Figuring out what to say about yourself? A total bitch. Especially when you're not all that interesting. I mean, I huddle in front of my computer all day long—where's the excitement in that? If I wanted to write a boring bio I'd be set, but Kate doesn't do boring.

So I asked some people what they'd say if they were writing my bio.

More than a Tutu: Getting to Know Kate

My critique partner: Well, you're the woman I'd most want to stroll with down a dark alley. And I'd definitely mention that you have a broadsword. That's so cool.

My sister: I'd say something that includes the phrase "mastery of life." I love that phrase. Or maybe I'd say you like cupcakes a lot.

Nate: I'd definitely mention that you enjoy torturing your beloved.

A close friend: This like a homework assignment. I didn't do homework while I was in school. I don't know what makes you think I'll do it now.

A random woman off the street: You have a nice computer bag. Is your laptop really that big?

One of the guys from my Kung Fu class: You've got a mean kick-jab combination. And you bite.

Sigh. The sad part is I'm desperate enough to take what they gave me and work it all together. Or maybe I should make something up. I always did want to be a gypsy with a bull name Philippe.

The Opening Act

"I've been waiting for this forever." Reverberating with excitement, Katie pulled out the Ani DiFranco tickets, hooked her arm through mine, and dragged me to the open concert hall doors. "This is going to be so great."

The "Uh-huh" I replied with was laden with skepticism. To say I wasn't a huge Ani fan was an understatement, but I was going out of duress friendship. "Are you holding me in a death grip because you're afraid I'll run away?"

"Damn straight. I'm no fool." She beamed at the behemoth black-suited guard at the door and handed over our tickets. Then, for the hundredth time in the past week, she said, "You're going to love it. And we have great seats. Second row, right in the center."

"Uh-huh." I held my breath as we sat down so I wouldn't get a contact high from the dude sitting next to me. Sometime before my head began to spin from the fumes, it occurred to me that maybe the opening act would be the redeeming factor for this evening. "Who's opening?"

"Animal Proof Rock," Katie replied.

But before I could get clarification, the lights dimmed. An androgynous woman in an orange one-sy and gold-rimmed pimp glasses bounced onto the stage and belted out her first song, affectionately titled Emotional Boner.

Katie nudged me. "How are you doing?"

Tapping my foot to the catchy tune, I smiled. "The evening is definitely looking up."

You Wanna Be on Top?

Get your mind out of the gutter. Though I can understand why you'd think I meant that since it's coming from a romance author.

No, the question isn't a matter of position. I had an idea for a new reality show: America's Next Top Author.

First of all, I should probably mention that I'm not the foremost expert on reality TV. In fact, until several weeks ago when I had the plague, I'd never watched a reality show. However, while I was laid up I watched them all. Who knew there were so many? Top model, top chef, top photographer...

But there aren't any author reality shows.

Yeah, I wondered if there was a reason for this too. I mean, I know authors aren't the comeliest of people but we authors have what it takes to make a reality show a hit: big egos, even bigger insecurities, and natural drama. How could the show not be a success?

Picture it: a dozen authors living together, going through weekly challenges and tests, with a panel that votes one author off each week. The challenges will be stuff like getting dressed and makeup'ed for a photo shoot or giving an interview. Each episode will end with a test that exemplifies being an author—like having to write a fifteen-page chapter in a noisy café. The prize for the top author will be a contract with Random House and a two-page spread in People Magazine.

Brilliant, isn't it? And I'd make such a good author version of Tyra Banks, don't you think?