Greetings, poor neglected Breakup Babies. Because I have been such a bore lately, stuffing my face with turkey, sulking about the fact that I CAN’T BLOG ABOUT ANYTHING INTERESTING ANYMORE, worrying (though not actually doing anything about) about my next book, talking (though not actually doing anything about) my escape to the southern tip of the world, that, starting soon, I’m going to have a guest blogger in here occasionally to liven things up.

That’s right. My more free-spirited, uninhibited, alter ego, Trixie. Now with a name like Trixie, why would you worry about anything? Especially when you’re young(ish), successful(ish), popular(ish), adventurous, fun-loving, and blonde, blonde, blonde? She doesn’t mope around because she’s not tied down by some pot-bellied, middle-aged, overworked, cheating husband – no! Or that her biological alarm clock has been going off for a good two years now– oh no! She just hits the damn snooze and goes back under the covers with that oh-so-cute 20-something Lothario she met at Aspen! (Or was it Vail?)

But since Trixie is sleeping off a big night, you’re stuck with me today. And I have a few updates for you before I myself disappear to Whistler for the weekend.

*I am now quitting my day job because as of last month, I made – brace yourself, people $23 as a professional musician!

*In other music-related trivia, the great tragedy of my youth was redeemed the other day, when I wrote a fan e-mail to the brilliant Devin Davis, who actually answered me! (The great tragedy of my youth, of course, being the time my sister and I penned heartfelt love letters to Mickey Dolenz (me) and Davey Jones (her), only to have them RETURNED to us by the record label because of course the Monkees had long since middle-aged obscurity by then because no one saw fit to inform us poor, innocent little souls (Mom?!!!) that, in 1975 what we were watching was reruns. Anyway, buy Devin's album because it is pretty and happy and poppy and sad and because it would make the perfect soundtrack to BB the movie (coming to as Cineplex near you in 2007!).

Now, I believe it is time for me to go pack. Alas BB (unlike Trixie) has no cute ski bunny clothes to wear! It’s just as well, I suppose, since my alpine ski skills are spotty and best and if I looked too sleek, I would appear even more ridiculous when I went tumbling down the slopes. So I will remain low-profile in my puffy jacket, plastic pants, and brain bucket, and will simply have to shine in my après-ski attire. That is, if I don’t die falling off a ski lift.

Your truly,
BB