It would take 12 glasses of red wine to kill me...

...and other fun facts.

Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

You might've noticed that I've been avoiding the internet like it was a Crackhead Convention in Siberia. Aside from the occasional game of Scrabulous with Trudy, I've been giving my computer the silent treatment. I'd like to convince you it's because I've been so busy at work on TAOAP. Or because my schedule is brimming with photo ops, interviews, and lunch dates with agents who want nothing more in life than to move me up a tax bracket or two. But I'm just not that good a storyteller. The truth is that I actually have nothing at all to show for my internet absence except a thicker waistline, clearer skin, and recuperated brain matter. Which is directly related to how much not thinking I've been doing. I would recommend a spell of not thinking to everyone.

Like Oprah, who allowed herself the entire month of July to regroup, I decided to give myself a good portion of November (an early birthday gift of sorts) to not care much about anything except feeling not-so-crappy anymore. And, while I couldn't sip some wine off the coast of Vancouver Island like Ms. Winfrey (the kids and my day job were relentlessly against it), I did spend a lot of time snubbing my nose at the world in the form of unscheduled naps and a perpetually dirty kitchen. I was bad in ALL KINDS of sordid ways. When I wanted a burger, I drove to McDonald's and got a burger. When I wanted to harass my neighbors, I walked over and harassed my neighbors. I avoided the news. I wasn't checking email regularly. I turned off my phone quite often. But it wasn't all fun and games. I was forced to administer an enema to a child who decided to quit pooping one day. And since returning from Delaware, I've seen more of my doctor than I have my neighbors, friends and supervisor.

But I think I'm back now. As most of you know from my commenting absence, I've got a lot of blog-reading to catch up on. And shopping to complete (all those free shipping opportunities floating around out there).

And yet, somehow, I'm finding distractions already:

Did you know your small children could visit my blog and follow my ramblings with absolute ease?




And if you wanted to do me in, all it would take is a measly 12 glasses of wine.

It would take 12 glasses of Red Wine to kill me

Lastly, I MUST share with the Internets the following conversation I heard at my doctor's office. Because I love you THAT much...

Doctor: So what seems to be the problem?
Patient: My shit doesn't stink.
D: Well now, how very nice for you!
P: Yes, it's marvelous. I've never been happier.
D: So what's the problem?
P: I'm pretty sure shit is supposed to stink.
D: Seriously? It doesn't stink AT ALL?
P: Not even a little.
D: So... what DOES it smell like?
P: Air. Fresh air. Sterile air, to be more specific.
D: I've never heard anybody come to the doctor to complain that their shit doesn't stink. Most people would immediately act holier than thou so they could go around telling everyone, "Dude, you're wrong! My shit DOESN'T stink!"
P: Yes, and most of THOSE people would then roll over and DIE from a lack of the intestinal microbes that digest our food thereby creating by-products which, by the way, make poop STINK!
D: Look, whatever website you consulted before coming here obviously uses scare tactics for effect because that's QUITE the exaggeration. Rest assured, nobody will be dying from a lack of stinky poop. But fine. I'll send your poop to the lab if it makes you feel better.
P: Thank you.
D: And, while I'm there, maybe I can figure out where the hell your sense of humor went.