No one has ever brought me a cupcake with a dead monkey on it. Let me explain.
I went to cover a book signing last night for the website I work for. Jenny Lawson, aka @TheBloggess, was shamelessly pedaling her book just because it happens to be on some famous list of books. I don’t know which list, but it has some newspaper name in the title. Let me tell you, the woman was worse than a back alley crack dealer. She sat there for hours and hours because people kept coming up to her and hugging her and stuff. And presumably bought some crack from her. I mean, a book.
The weird thing is her drugged out customers brought her peace offerings of all kinds of crazy-assed stuff. Cupcakes with fondant dead monkeys on them, superhero capes with giant chickens on the back, even metal bugs. Even crazier were the people who wanted their boobs signed.
And through the hundreds of people who wanted their books, their boobs, several baseball bats, and their prescription bottles signed, I waited. Diligently. Because I’m THAT kind of employee. And while I did ultimately end up getting a great interview with The Bloggess, I was a little put out that I hadn’t thought to bring a piece of crap from my house for her to sign. Then I remembered that I had half used carton of cream cheese in my purse (and no, I don’t have to tell you why). But I was afraid she might be lactose intolerant and if I killed her with my cream cheese, her legions of fans might come after me and half of them were holding sharp metal chickens that could cut me. I just got my book signed and went home.
After we were done, she offered me a cupcake
which I think is where she hides the crack. Because she’s great like that.