Regifting Kind Of

There's a note on the itinerary my publisher gave me that says when I get into Boston, a "media escort" is to help me "kill time" until my hotel room is ready for check-in.  This is a professional media escort, so if I was the type who needed to go pick up drugs, prostitutes, illegal puppies then I'm sure this person could play debauched concierge, but honestly that morning will probably turn into something more along the lines of me asking, "Chocolate pancakes, please?"  And then, "Oh my god, do you want to take some pancakes, go to the park, and see if we can get squirrels to sit on the bench with us?" 

Right now, if I had an escort to help me take care of things, the one request of him/her would be, "Can you help me figure out how to get apart these bowls I've had stuck together since Thursday night?"  I put two plastic bowls in the sink, and from what I can tell, the one underneath decided to expand its identity to incorporate the other's.  And now they are making the bowl-with-two-backs and refuse to decopulate.

The most scandalous thing to happen to me this past week wasn't a scandal of my own doing, and possibly not even a scandal at all.  But I choose not to believe the latter.

If you're a longtime reader of the blog you might remember that I made my first (and to this date, last) television appearance on "Connie Talks Books" or at least that's what I'm calling it because I'm not sure she deserves my Googling effort.  During my visit, Connie casually let me know that she thought my green halter top a shiteous choice, and gave thoroughly disapproving looks when she discovered I wasn't wearing a bra during the wiring of the microphone.  (How was I supposed to know the cameraman would need to go underneath my shirt?  I always see Portia DiRossi clipping her mic directly onto her halter string while Conan growls and makes tiger claws at her.)

After my reading at Book Soup on Tuesday night, a store employee brought over a stack of my books to sign.  I opened up the top copy of Like The Red Panda, and on the title page I saw this:

At which point I started launching into a succession of, "That fucking bitch!"-s while my mom, standing behind me, said, "I hate when you cuss, Andreaaaa.  I hate it."  Two years ago Connie asked me to make that book out to her, and while I don't expect everyone who has one of my books to keep it beneath her pillow with a sprig of lavender, I do kind of think that if someone has specifically made something out to you, you probably shouldn't just chuck it like last week's Bed, Bath & Beyond mailer.  That note is a little moment trapped in time.  I would rather Connie had mailed my book straight back to me with a "Ehhhh, no thanks," so I could have my moment back. 

I was ready to declare war right that instant with Connie, despite her being year-round sweatered, page-boyed, and a senior citizen because I am not in league with the majority of this country that staunchly believes the elderly are always cute, funny, and innocent just because they're elderly.  My mom, consistently unreasonable voice of reason, was like, "Maybe she was really, really into your book and she brought it here while attending another author's reading so she could continue while waiting, and then accidentally left it behind?"  To which I yelled, "She doesn't attend shit, Eileen!"

I proceeded to investigate.  Book Soup doesn't buy back used books, so the dedicated Panda didn't get on the shelf when Connie did her spring-cleaning and sold the outcasts.  Did Connie pull a ruse?  Return the book in a Book Soup bag leftover from another purchase and then use the greater public's aforementioned softy impression of the elderly to convince the salesclerk she'd forgotten the receipt at home, and could she just please get store cred?  Did Connie dislike me, my book, or my brazen bralessness so much that she just simply wanted all memory of us out of her house?  Did she slip my novel among the store's stock without any desire for compensation because being rid of my contagious harlotry was payment enough?  Just what is Crafty Connie up to?  I would like to know.  Suggestions welcome.  About the bowls too.

Now in more Me news:
To Feel Stuff gets an Elle magazine mention here.
The Boston Globe had some nice things to say about it today.
And Largehearted Boy has an essay I wrote on why the songs in the book are in the book.

Comments

[Neri]

Hi Andrea! I'm from the country Malaysia and I looked up your book the other day and maybe it's not here yet. I think it's awesome that you dance at your reading. Anyway, Connie's very weird.

[Beth]

I agree with your stance on the elderly. I don't think anyone should get special treatment simply because they fall into a blanket category. Respect should have to be earned not granted blindly. Maybe I'll feel different when I'm much older.

Mail the book back to her?

[Jimmy Beck]

I liked your discussion of the songs at Largehearted Boy. Listen, if you haven't heard it, I urge you to go to iTunes and download the late Warren Zevon's cover of "Back in the High Life."

[Kathleen]

Run hot water over/into the bowls. This should expand and float the inner bowl out of the outer one.

[Trish]

I'd mail it back to her with a "I'm sure you've been looking for this" note.

I'm glad you're coming to Boston - we need more dancing around here!

[Bonacker]

The reemergence of Connie's signed book reminds me of one of those fantastical stories where someone casts a note in a bottle into the sea and then years later while walking the beach of distant shores comes upon the bottle.Except in your case it would be more like Catalina than distant shores.But still...

[arkman]

This is obviously a 'sign'. Have you seen Serendipity? Perhaps you should go ice skating with Connie?

That aside...I really hope you get an answer to this mystery.

[ZachV]

Dont send the book back, thats deffinatly something you should hold onto.
Just send her something out of leftfield, like a pair of mittens. Make granny think.

[stir]

Pamela Ribon had some nice things to say about you:
http://www.pamie.com/archives/pamie/because_i_feel.html

[Little Willow]

I'm sorry to hear that she did that. Meanwhile, nearly a week to the day after you posted this, I found a copy of Like the Red Panda in a used bookstore and had to buy it because I could not LEAVE it there!