Below is my letter to Jenny Lawson, more commonly known as the bloggess, author of the recent New York Times bestseller Let’s Pretend this Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir). I was going to put a link to her blog here, but then you would stop reading my shit and abandon me for her far funnier work. Please don't do that because I love you. Smiley face.
|The Bloggess: My Newest Hero!|
This spring, I lost my job. As I was a teacher – it was way more than a job. The word “teacher” is a crucial component of my self-concept. Why am I telling you this? Why should you give a shit? Here’s why: due to my unemployment, I decided to begin a blog. To tell the truth, I had probably read only about five blog posts in my life, with your post about Beyoncé naturally included. Since starting my blog, I have received several fantastic compliments from my friends. I know, they’re my best friends, so they’re probably just lying to me about my talent, but I have decided to accept these compliments. Bitches better not be trying to take this praise away from me either. Within the past week, I have been compared to several amazing authors; David Sedaris and Anne Lamott were among them. Right? I must totally rule (or I have some really nice, but dishonest, friends)! Then another acquaintance said my voice reminded them of Jenny Lawson. I thought – who? So, my inquisitive, busy little mind had to figure this puzzle out. Oh! It’s the bloggess! So, today I took some time to check out your work further. I visited the blog, and read many posts from the back catalogue – even checking out Good Mom/Bad Mom because this mommy of two children under age two has her own “sippy cup” that usually contains cabernet. As I delved deeply into your work, I thought --- OMG! This broad is a fucking kindred spirit! So, I had to contact you to express my absolute admiration of your work. I also wanted to contact you to say: can I use you, please? You see, I gots to provide for my babies and it’s a struggle with unemployment. As I noticed that you write about your own mental illness, I should note that I myself suffer from bipolar disorder, and actually am currently contesting this is the reason I was released from my job as they falsely claimed I abused my family and medical leave. Bastards. But anyway -- my very first blog post contained the line “send me some money bitches.” One of my recent blogs requested “blow this shit up people.” However, despite my demands, I have nine fucking followers and have yet to receive a check in the mail. Again – bastards. However, I should say that nine people is probably about 10% of the population of my township (okay: lie – hyperbole, but only a slight one). At any rate, my not-so-secret ambition (perhaps delusional, but fuck it – whatever) has been that the blog becomes wildly popular and I get a book deal. A-ha! Just like you! You see? So, here’s where the you as a tool part comes in (not a tool the way John Mayer is a tool, but more like the traditional definition where you serve a useful purpose). I also checked out a lot of the fantastic writers on the “I fucking love these people & not just because they support my wine-slushee habit” sidebar. I should note I also adore Tina Fey, so that this next reference makes sense: I want to go to there. My plea is that you check out my writing. If you fucking love it (or even if you just like it … kind of, sort of, I guess it’s all right), would you please feature me among these others? I mean, it’s been about six weeks since I started this blog, so what the fuck? Why am I not wildly popular? I am trusting you to make this happen. Thanks in advance; I’ll honor you in the “author’s acknowledgements” of my memoir. Smiley face.
PS – I’m currently reading Lolita, and Humbert Humbert narrates with a lot of parenthesis. I kinda picked that shit up.