Babies and Guns

So I bought my niece a shirt with a gun on it. I mean, yes, it's Princess Leia, but she's holding a gun. It's not just any gun either - it's kind of like an Uzi. I didn't notice it when I bought the shirt, and I'm thinking of bedazzling it and making it a blow dryer. They resemble each other, see?

What else could I make it?

(Truthfully, I LOVE this shirt and don't really care, it's just that I haven't seen a gun a shirt in ages because my, my, my how times have changed.)

UPDATE: You can buy the shirts here: Bobo Brooklyn. They have a lot more than just Star Wars!

My Starbucks Office II: Confronting Lenny

I'm taking everyone's advice and going to my favorite Starbucks right now. I WILL NOT BE DRIVEN OUT BY LENNY! I'll let you know how it goes.

Previously: My Starbucks Office: An Open Letter to Starbucks Corporate

UPDATE: I tried to write this update from the Starbucks, but someone turned off the free wireless since Lenny drove me out. Okay, here's what happened...

First, I planned my "look." I didn't want to look good so I didn't take a shower and put my hair up in a pony tail. (I didn't even smooth out my bed head before doing so.) Next, I pulled a dirty pair of cargo pants that I wore to the zoo on Saturday out of the laundry basket and put them on with the hopes of smelling like a monkey. I briefly thought about not brushing my teeth, but that's just gross, so I did. On top I wore a red long-sleeved t-shirt with no bra. Truth be told, the "no bra" thing might've turned Lenny on more, but I didn't feel like wearing one. (I don't know why I just told you that detail.)

Anyway, I was prepared to see and repulse Lenny. However... Lenny wasn't there. He wasn't there when I arrived and he wasn't there when I left. And you know what? I found myself getting angry about it. I mean, it took a lot of courage to go back to Starbucks. And he's there every damn day - why not yesterday? I was ready for a confrontation, whether it be a nod or a "hello" or a "why'd you blow me off, bitch?" I was ready, Lenny - WHERE WERE YOU??

I'm going to go back to Starbucks tomorrow, and every day after that until I see him. Now I'm on a mission.

Conversations with your pets

Okay, enough of the feel-good stuff - back to me being a whack.

Warning: If you're not a dog or cat owner, you might find the following post disturbing. (Actually, even if you are a dog or cat owner, you might find the following post disturbing.)

I talk to my dog and cat, I do. I tell them random things, like how my day's going, what I'm making for dinner, etc., and they blink. This isn't uncommon - I'm pretty sure most pet owners talk to their animals. However after a recent trip to LA I took this a step further and began talking back to myself as if I am my pets. Here, let me explain...

While I was recently in Los Angeles, I stayed with two guys, Mark and David, who have two Italian Greyhounds, Brisco and Gertie. (BTW, Gertie is in a book called Greyhounds Big and Small by Amanda Jones.) Every so often one of them would say something to one of the dogs, like, "Hey Brisco, how's it going?" When they did, the other would jokingly answer back as if they were the dog, "Oh I'm okay, just hungry." Odd? Yes, but since there were two of them having the conversation, it was acceptable. (And kind of funny, to be honest.)

Anyway, after staying with Mark and David for a month or so, I picked up this habit. But the thing is... I live alone and don't have a second person to talk back to me, so I started doing it myself. For example, when I gave Beverly her breakfast one day last week (which was dry dog food) she looked at it for a couple seconds but didn't eat it. When she looked back up at me, I asked, "Aren't you hungry?", and then I raised my voice an octave and answered myself as if I were Bev, saying, "Yeah, but where's the gravy, bitch?!"

On one hand I think I'm losing it (I mean, I'm having conversations with myself - it's kinda schitzo), but on the other hand I think my behavior isn't that odd. I mean, everyone talks to their pets. Besides, at least I do it alone in my apartment and no one can hear me - right??

WRONG.

It was yesterday, I don't know what came over me. I took Beverly out with me to run errands and she fell asleep in her bag while we were on the subway. When she did, someone sitting next to me commented about her looking exhausted, so I looked down at her and asked, "Bev, are you tired?" Hearing my voice, she raised her ears and looked up at me, at which point I raised my voice an octave and said back to myself as if I were her, "Yes, Mommy! I'm so, so tired!"

The person on the train looked at me like, Sh*t woman - take your meds. I mean, not only did I talk to myself like I was my dog, but I called myself "Mommy." Yikes.

I'm not losing it, I'm not. I simply picked up a bad habit and need to break it. But anyway, all this leads me to wonder... what kind of odd behavior do you exhibit when you're alone with your pets? C'mon... you know you do something. Let me know what it is. Make me feel better.

PS - Regardng their alter egos... When my cat Elvis talks back to me, he's a major ghetto thug who uses the words "bitch" and "ho" a lot. He's totally disrepectful. Bev, on the other hand, is an out of control teen with a severe drinking problem who often slurs and swears something fierce.

Crackpot Posse

I usually don't like the cheesy e-mails people forward each other, but I got this today from my friend Cristin (who has now dubbed our crazy group of friends "the crackpot posse") and it made me smile.

As spring approaches, a parable...

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a long pole which she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the perfect pot always delivered a full portion of water and the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream.

"I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house."

The old woman smiled. "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them.

FORWARD THIS POST to all your crackpot friends, have a great day and remember to smell the flowers on your side of the path.

20 Times News, Third Book, Paying It Forward

So, the galleys (uncorrected proofs) of the new book have gone out to press and my publicist is setting up interviews, etc. Rachel Kramer Bussel - writer, editor, sex columnist, reading series host, cupcake lover, comedy fan - will be interviewing me for the Village Voice closer to when the book comes out. However, she already read the book and wrote on her blog that she "devoured Karyn Bosnak's hilarious, fun and fast-paced forthcoming novel 20 Times a Lady..." Yay! It's not an official review, but it's still excitng to hear. You can click here for her blog, Lusty Lady. Warning to conservatives: she is a free-spirited sex columnist. (And I commend her for it.)

In other news, in addition to writing the screenplay for 20 Times a Lady for New Line, I'm also writing a teen book for HarperCollins. It was announced yesterday in Publishers Lunch, a publishing industry newsletter:

CHILDREN'S: YOUNG ADULT
Karyn Bosnak's BEAUTY QUEEN, a girl crush novel set against the surreal backdrop of teen beauty pageants, to Amanda Maciel at Harper Children's, by Jennifer Unter at RLR Associates (world).

Anyway, so exciting things are happening for me! Gosh, to think all of this started because I owed $20,000! Just so you all know, as soon as I get paid for the screenplay, I'm donating every red cent that I received to pay off my debt to charity. I've been donating ever since I got my first book deal, but I haven't come close to $20,000 yet. People have the misconception that because I'm a published author I must be rolling in dough, but it's quite the opposite. For the past couple of years I've been making much, much less money than I ever did as a TV producer. However, I'm SO MUCH HAPPIER because I'm doing something I love. From the bottom of my heart I thank each and every person who helped me get to where I am. Whether you gave me a dollar or not, bought my book or not, I appreciate the support that people from around the world have given me. Pay it forward, pay it forward...

I'll keep you informed on the donating front. I'm thinking Katrina, a cancer charity (in memory of my Aunt Carol), and maybe UNICEF. I should give to one global charity because it wasn't just Americans who helped me. (Maybe an animal charity, too, because Elvis was such a big hit.) So anyway, that's what I'm thinking.

N-N-N-Nora! Beautiful Nora! You're the Only G-G-G-Girl That I Adore!

I'm alive. I haven't been kidnapped by Lenny. I'm at my sister's house babysitting my eight-month-old niece, Nora. The idea of me babysitting is funny for one main reason: it's me babysitting. To say that I know nothing about babies is an understatement. Me watching my niece is kind of like me coaching a football team, or me trying to hold a conversation with someone like Alan Greenspan. None of them come naturally to me.

Like for instance, when my sister was pregnant and stocking up on goods, my friend told me that I had to get her this thing called the "instant bath." I imagined it to be like a car wash for babies: you put them in one end, turn a crank, and they pop out the other end all spic and span. I went to Babies 'R' Us looking for it, I scoured the internet - no one had it. I called my friend and was like, "This instant bath thing doesn't exist," and she was like, "You idiot - I said infant bath."

Anyway, to further my point, I can't tell when her diaper is wet so I just keep changing her. Also, I'm not really sure how to entertain her, so I keep making faces and dancing. She seems to like it, she keeps smiling at me, so I guess I'm doing something right. (It's either that or she's looking at me thinking, You're such a dufus.)

She just got up from her second nap and I just fed her lunch. She had sweet potatoes and corn. I gave it a little taste and have to admit - the stuff's not bad. It would make a good glaze for a chicken breast or something like that.

So anyway, this leads me to my question. Nora is going to grow up and call me "Aunt Karyn" or "Auntie Karyn," but I don't like the way either name sounds. They just don't flow off the tongue that smoothly. I'd much prefer it if my name were something snappy like "Aunt Tootie" or something. Any suggestions?