All righty. I am hurling my myself off into the wilderness again this weekend because it is the only place that the demons don’t get me. There is no possible way I could spend a weekend in Seattle right now without falling into a horriferous, self-pitying, sun-dazed funk.

Never mind that I almost DIED last weekend on Mt. Adams in one of the less fun trips in recent history. Why I bothered to climb Mt. Adams again, I do not know, except that I wanted to test out my fledgling ski mountaineering skills and I didn’t have anything better to do (except oh you know, clean my house, write my next novel, relax, and stop running around like a f*cking maniac). It wasn’t that fun last time and it certainly wasn’t that fun this time what with hauling all that gear up there, my “technical difficulties” with my skiis, and our ridiculously late summit hour, which gave us no room for error. Too bad we made so many errors, the biggest of which was following the one remaining party besides us on the mountain the absolute wrong direction into the woods.

Yeah well. Thanks to J’s altimeter and cool head we got out of there at 11 pm, to make it home Monday by 8 a.m., at which point I put on a miniskirt and low cut shirt and went to work because what else are you gonna do?

There was about 45 minutes worth of fun on that trip, including summiting and skiing off the summit but the rest was just plain wrong. It’s a big mountain and all that (12,000-something feet) but it isn’t even that scenic. Now my feet are completely mangled yet I’m going backpacking for four days in the Olympics because, well, see above.I guess the mountains are better than some other drugs out there.

I have a feeling I won’t settle down til fall. Is it here yet?

Xo
BB

Dear Cute Construction Worker In My Building ,

I’m so glad that when I made my totally unnecessary and ridiculous detour through the garage to get out of the building this morning, that you were actually there – hence, making it an extra two minutes well spent!

Not only that, you walked away from your cute little construction worker mini-project to come talk to me even though we really have no more construction-related business to discuss. After all, the construction is almost done. Only four more days!

You’d think I’d be happy that the infernal hammering will be over – but no! This means I don’t have an indefinite amount of time to make morning detours and keep flirting with you! Nor do I have time to “casually” mention that I broke up with that hunky guy you always saw me with and that that other guy you saw leaving with me that morning was just a “friend” – really! (Well, mostly. But that’s a long story!).

I know I missed my little window of opportunity this morning. The flirting was going so well and there was that nice little "whoosh" feeling in the air, but then your boss came along and it was gone. Oh well. I’ve been out of the dating scene for six whole months so I’m not quite as smooth as I used to be.

Anyway, you probably have a girlfriend. We probably have nothing to talk about. You’re probably too young or too stoned or too-something (or else not-something enough) even though you are super adorable and also hip and intellectual-looking with your cute glasses, pierced nose, and blue cap. So obviously we are completely wrong for each other and any activities outside construction-related discussion can only lead to heartbreak. I therefore conclude I must definitely ask you out.

BB

Lately I've been getting loads of charming e-mail from a variety of people. Since I don't have time to blog today, I'll instead post some e-mails from friends and readers.

The first is a note I I received from the obviously-quite-intelligent-and-literary Zoe. Here is what Zoe had to say:

Don't cry, Breakup Babe.
...and these are three reasons why:

1. You're adorable! That polka-dot dress you wore in Portland is totally fetching, and your new haircut screams "summer fun."

2. Because of the handy "A" in Agiewich, your book is prominently displayed on the top right new books shelves at the Brooklyn Public Library.

3. Because, as Breakup Babe, you are at your bloggy best when broken up. What better promotional opportunity for your increasing fame as a writer? This is all to say...

PLEASE, PLEASE spill the beans on this dope who broke up with you (for someone else!? Impossible). Post an expose! Tell all!

With great hope,
Zoë

And one from a dear (non-Native-English-speaking) friend (who has clearly been reading the novel and noting my worship of the "holy pink pill" - a.k.a. Celexa, which by the way, I am no longer on, not that there's anything wrong with it.)

Eh, Rebecca, you know - it's painful watching you go on a rollercoaster
from one man to the next, but then again I realized that you actually
like it this way. Nevertheless, it's not easy to watch; it's me who may
need a holy pink pill :-).

That's it from the e-mail bag today!
BB

My friend J. just came up with an premise for my sequel: “Break ‘em up Babe,” in which Rachel goes around busting up every marriage and/or long-term relationship she can find only to get gunned down by a posse of vigilante wives and die a lonely death mourned by no one except, of course the sex-starved husbands whose lives she so greatly enriched for a short, enchanted time.

Jeez. I’m sounding like the glib Breakup Babe of yore. Yessir, that’s how you know I feel like shit – when I start pretending I am cool and in-charge and don’t give a flying f*ck about men. Ha.

I am certainly not cool and in-charge right now, especially when it comes to men. Why here are just a few things I’ve been doing.

• Crying!
  
  
• Deliberately going out of my way when leaving my condo in the morning to see the cute and flirty construction worker I have a crush on, only to become extremely nervous when I see him and not know what to say!
  
  
• Hanging out with adorable and completely unreliable men from my past when I am at my most emotionally vulnerable!
  
  
• Resisting adorable men who might actually be good for me because I am too busy doing all the above!
  
  

OH and now that it’s summer, please remember never EVER to ask me how my summer is going or I will have to kill you.


Love,
Rebecca

Damn, I can sure write one sad blog entry, can't I? I write like a mo' fo' when I'm sad. UNFORTUNATELY.

Is this why I constantly seek out hot but inappropriate men? Or, as I've called them here before, HBIBS? Because in the end, all I want is to feel pain and channel it into my Art?

Lord only knows.

At least I was adored for a full six months - an eternity in BB time - or six months minus however long ago it was he fell for someone else. I think it was the exact moment I wrote on my blog that I was "happy." That my love life was going "well." (Believe me, I'll never do THAT again).

Yeah, so the future started to open up for me just a little, and bam - it slammed shut again.

I was just deluded. It happens all the time.

But it was nice to be adored for that amount of time. I get easily carried away by the adoration of sexy men. I lose sight of what's best or what's wise and I live only for that next adoring gesture.

Adoration is one reason I became so addicted to blogging, and one reason I am so loving being an author right now. Because I am getting a lot of LOVE, in capital letters, from my readers. (Oh please keep sending it!) Here are just a few of the comments I've gotten:

"Hi, I just wanted to let you know that I finished reading your book and LOVED it."

"What a GREAT joy to read!"

"hell girl! i loved your book!...it came at a very opportune time in my life. it's helping me figure out what the hell to do with a relationship i am currently in. word!"

"you are a terrific writer and I love your book!"

"it's a beautiful book, and so unlike a lot of those chick-litty books, (which I do love most of them, but some... ewww) yours felt so real to me, with none of the fake shit to try and get a laugh out of the reader. THe laughs I had during BB were pure and glad ones, completely believable of the story. That's the sign of an amazing writer!"

"I read it straight through to the Hemingwayesque last line & enjoyed it very much."

Thank you thank you thank you. My life is one bittersweet mixed up mess right now. But just keep adoring me and I'll be OK.

OH! And did I mention? As a teaser for my oh-so-brief appearance on Fox's "More Good Day Oregon," they kept showing my author photo again and again and AGAIN?

Jesus. A narcissist could get used to this.

Good thing the attention will be short-lived and I'll fade into obscurity soon or else I could get really full of myself. And my comments are turned off so you can't tell me how full of myself I already am - ha ha ha!

xo,
BB

A quick snapshot from my triumphant reading at a Portland Barnes & Noble where eight whole people showed up! But what an enthusiastic eight they were. Earlier in the day I'd done my triumphant three-minute turn on Fox TVs "More Good Day Oregon," fresh (or rather, not so fresh) from the previous night's triumphant turn at a reading in Kirkland to which six people came!

I'm going to brainstorm with you soon about how to get TONS of people to come to my (soon-to-be) triumphant Bay Area readings. Maybe I could get 10 whole people to show up!

Anyway, no matter who and who doesn't show up, I heart being an author.

So do you want to hear something really sad?

No of course you don’t, you want me to be "funny" like I was in the "old days" when I wrote about men or whatever.

But today I’m sad so too bad.

Two nights ago my boyfriend ex-boyfriend was at my house. In the middle of the night he gave me the longest, sweetest kiss. It woke me up and surprised me and thrilled me because my boyfriend ex-boyfriend hadn’t kissed me like that in a long time and I’d been dying inside because of it.

And I thought, maybe he hasn’t really gone away. Maybe he is still here in spirit as well as body even though it doesn’t feel like it most of the time. Maybe that affection of his that was so bright and hot and blinding like the sun - will come back.

The next morning, I told him, stupidly, how much I'd liked that middle-of-the-night kiss. I knew I was taking a gamble when I held it out for him like that. I knew he could take it away. And he did. He looked at me, raised his eyebrow, and shot me a suspicous look from those brilliant and beautiful blue eyes. “What?," he said. "I don’t remember that.”

So then my heart broke just a little more. I thought to myself "He was kissing someone else in his dreams." Then I thought, "That is ridiculous."

But it wasn’t so ridiculous as I thought.

And that is my sad story for the day. I can only hope someone is kissing me like that in their dreams.

I am turning my comments off now because I am in a bad mood.

Love,
Rebecca

OK, so here's a tip. Not to bitch or anything, but when you're writing to congratulate me about my book it's best not to say something along the lines of "I hope you are SO THRILLED with your life right now."

I am thrilled I finally wrote a novel yes, and thrilled that my readers seem to love it, but HELLO OTHERWISE I AM A BASKET CASE.

Sheesh. So you might say something more along the lines of "Gee BB, congrats on the book and I know where you can get some great deal on Xanax and Vodka, cause guess what, we understand how hard it is to publish a novel start a brand new job where you have to get up early drive all night to Portland so you can be on TV for three minutes the next day" etc. etc.

So perhaps I'm whining just a tad. Excusez-moi.

But I always knew that the best time in my life would be *before* the book came out and not after. And it was good. Especially when I ran off to South America and put everything in perspective. Now that I'm back, everything is looming crazily big and out-of-whack like the mixed up pieces of a person in a Picasso painting.

And now, pardonnez moi, but I have to go work for a living, which is a shock after my years at Geeksoft. So that's it for today's little whinefest! I'm so glad to hear you're all enjoying my navel-gazing little novel.

xo
BB

Well I had the greatest book launch party a girl could ask for last night at Elliott Bay Books, with all my friends in attendance, and the perfect dress, and just the right amount of nerves to be sharp and not stupid, and oh my goodness, the adoring looks from the crowd sure didn’t hurt either!

They laughed appreciatively in all the right places, and in many places I did not expect them to laugh, and overall my lovely audience made me feel like a STAR, which is all I’ve ever aspired to be in life, that a good, caring person, of course.

Everyone should get a night like that in their life.

Meanwhile, I would never wish my MORNING upon anyone, what with the TWO HOURS it took me to get home after driving my mom to the airport, and which, combined with the hangover and lack of sleep, caused me to have breakdown right there on Highway 99 North.

Ok not a breakdown exactly but let me tell you: I cried.

I was, perhaps, a tad overwrought. Being a celebrity is not easy, you know. I have a lot on my plate right now, with the new job, the new book, Johnny Depp calling CONSTANTLY! However, seeing there was no personal assistant and no Xanax in sight, and my only alternative to just driving through it was to get out of the car, wander around pulling my hair and yelling “Hello, I am a published novelist and and I SHOULD NOT BE STUCK IN THIS TRAFFIC,” and then get put into an institution, I grimly perservered. (If a gun had been handy, it would not have been a good thing.)

When I finally did get back to Seattle, a mere shadow of my former self, at least the hungover boyfriend had not yet gotten out of bed and I could momentarily be comforted by crawling into his arms where he laughed (lovingly) at the fact that I had cried because of traffic.

So back to the positive, it was the world’s biggest thrill to talk at Elliott Bay and now I wish I could relive the whole thing and I don’t think anyone videotaped it so it will have to live on in my memory and I’m sure it will til I’m old and in the nursing home – and oh wait – that’s what I was supposed to say when someone asked me what I was working on next:

“BreakupBabe: The Nursing Home Years,” in which BB and her coterie of pals – you know them all, Sexy Boy, GalPal #1, Henry, Jane – all go live in the same nursing home in Tukwila where more hijinx ensues as BB raids the local community college for boyfriends (forgetting that she is 85) and her pals vow to help her hook a man before her Alzheimer’s gets too advanced!

Love,
BB

Hello all,
My first week as a published author has thus far been stellar - thanks largely to those of you who have been writing to tell me how much you love the book. Also - much love to to Mr. Helpful and Odious Woman for giving me my first reviews on Amazon and five-star reviews at that! May you all follow suit!

Speaking of suits, I had to spend the entire advance for my novel on a new suit as I will be appearing on television both this week and next - ACK. Then of course I couldn't buy a new suit without buying new shoes, and I'm going to have to buy another shirt to go with the suit so I'm not wearing the exact same outfit NEXT time I go on TV, and...well, clearly the book will need to become a besteller merely for me to afford all the clothes I'm going to have to buy for my international west coast book tour!

For those of you in Seattle, you'll be able to see me at my bright and shiny best at 8:15 tomorrow morning on KING 5. Ha ha ha. I barely speak that early in the morning so it will be interesting to see what comes out of my mouth. If anything. At least I will look stylin' in my new outfit, please pray I don't spill coffee on the pink silk shirt first thing in the morning.

Otherwise I will have to take out a second mortgage on my home to purchase further shirts, not to mention having to appear on television topless.

xo
BB