dad, suspiciously: who is this?
me: it’s your son.
dad, worriedly: is this about the car?
dad: oh god. you’ve lost your health insurance.
me: no! it’s good news!
mom: ooh let’s do facetime!
me: hi mom!
me: you kind of just came out of nowhere!
dad: i do not like facetime.
a lengthy bout of typing and muttering.
dad: i’m not seeing—who is “BonerDog420”?
me: i have no idea what you’re even looking at.
dad: the only person on the list that i can call is “BonerDog420.” but that’s not you.
me: what list? how did you arrive at—you know what, never mind.
dad: maybe we should call him to make sure.
me: do what you need to do. can i just tell you about—
dad: hello? bonerdog?
mom: reid i don’t think you should EWW
dad: GOOD LORD.
mom: TURN IT OFF. TURN IT OFF.
me: maybe you guys can call me back!
* * * * *
mom: can you see us?
me: i can see you! hi!
mom: and—there you are!
mom: honey, are you okay?
me: yeah! in fact—
mom: you look kind of gaunt. you look very thin and pale.
dad: you always forget that’s just how he looks.
me: yeah. mom, this is what i look like all the time.
mom: it’s not how you used to look. you used to—
me: my script is on the black list!
me: it’s #8! it’s in the top ten of the black list!
dad: is that good? that sounds bad.
mom: you look like you’re not eating enough.
me: i’m fine. guys. this is a really big deal.
me: the black list is a prestigious list of unproduced scripts. a bunch of executives put it together, and uh.
me: it’s a really good thing. it’s a great thing that happened to me, and my script, and my whole career.
mom: well, that’s good!
dad: that is good!
dad: so does this mean you can get a job?
me: i have a job.
mom: he means a job where you get paid.
me: i have a job where i get paid. i write scripts now, and this means maybe i can sell them, and get paid. that’s my job. this is a real job now.
dad: so have you gotten paid to do any other scripts?
me: no, but—it’s a job. it’s a real job.
mom: well… yes. okay. then this is really good news!
dad: it’s very good news. we’re very proud of you.
mom: grandma will be so happy! you should call her right now.
dad: and then you should call bonerdog.
mom: oh reid. ugh.
dad: i have a feeling he’s going to be really, really excited about it.
mom: stop it.
me: dad, stop.
dad: maybe too excited.
mom: I SAID STOP IT.
So it’s the beginning of awards season, and list season, and Me and Earl got on some lists that you should know about. Specifically, the Texas Library Association’s 2013 Tayshas Reading List, the Atlantic's 25 Most Wonderful Book Covers list, and web.de’s 10 Best German Food-Blogs list.
Yeah. I’m very flattered by the first one, very happy for Chad Beckerman and Ben Wiseman vis-a-vis the second, and kind of nonplussed by the third, because the only conclusion I can draw from it is that in Germany, Me and Earl is less of a book and more of a food blog. How this happened, I have no idea and am afraid to find out. The writeup is unapologetically baffling: “Greg and Earl are addicts, cooking addicts. And regarding their addiction they post regularly to their blog, ‘Earl and I Regret Rachel’s Fatal Illness.’ They scold bitterly and discuss the latest restaurants and recipes. Caution: ham-optics!”
Yeah. At the end it says “Vorsicht: Schinken-Optik!” That means caution: ham-optics.
So now I don’t 100% know what to do.
Mitt Romney, on either the Olympics or the human-dissection chambers of the distant, chilly gas giant on which he was mitotically birthed.
p.s. if you are an american, for the love of god go vote right now
Long-suffering readers! I’ve got events coming up, and you are invited. Yeah! You are personally invited! By me! I would love to see you and catch up! And hear all about the kids! Especially little James! That kid is a hoot! I mean, he’s also kind of nuts! Remember last time when I was at your house? He pulled both of my shoelaces out of my shoes and then tied them together so that they were one big shoelace and then mostly ate it except that there was one end still sticking out of his mouth! And the other end was in his stomach being digested or something! I love that kid!
Note: You are invited to these events even if you are not my childhood friend Rebecca with two children including a fairly messed-up son named James.
Saturday, September 29th, I’m in Austin, Texas, for the Teen Book Festival. I’m in Corey Whaley’s Real Life is Messy panel, and I am extremely fired up.
But then the Saturday before that, the 22nd, I’m in Glendale, California, for the YA Rising Stars event with a bunch of incredible authors, and for that, too, I am deeply fired up.
But then the Saturday before that, the 15th: that would be my birthday. It’s kind of a big one. I would say maybe avoid Abbot Kinney Boulevard the night of the 15th, unless you want to get near-fatally high-fived and then monologued at about the wickedly fast and yet agonizingly slow flight from youth that we all, though we resist it, make.
See EVENTS for more information! I mean, more information about the events. Not about mortality. I mean probably there’s something in there about mortality too.