I am in Tulsa for Christmas, and tomorrow night I’ll be doing a booksigning at the Barnes & Noble on 41st Street at 7 pm. (Doing a booksigning? Having a booksigning? Both sound procreative.) If you’re in town and want to confess, accuse, or have me deface something of yours, please come by.
I have a lot more to say, mostly about a trip I took with my mother this afternoon to Hobby Lobby, but right now I have to turn off all the TVs in my parents’ house. There are maybe more TVs here than there are Santa Clauses, and I can count eleven Santa Clauses this second without moving my head. Someone who is not me or my brother, please give my mother a grandchild, quick. Anyway, the TVs. When I was a kid, we had one TV. Then we got a Betamax and HBO and another TV and that was a big deal. I was never allowed to have a TV in my bedroom. At this moment, there are seven TVs in my parents' house. One is in the bathroom. I don’t even want to imagine what that’s about. Back in Brooklyn, we haven’t had a TV since Caroline moved out in October, and we’ve managed to fill that void just fine with candle making and Bible readings and masturbation. I mean quilting. No, I mean masturbation.
Right, so see you at Barnes & Noble tomorrow night. Don’t tell my mom I was talking about her TVs on the internet. Some things must remain sacred.