I'm supposed to be doing something else right now

I came to the library because I'm supposed to be doing some writing for the show I'm in. Aren't I always saying how much I would love to be a comedy writer, like Tina Fey and all that? And then I actually have some comedy writing to do, and I go to the library and head straight for the magazine rack.

And why? Because they finally have back issues of Real Simple displayed, which is a magazine I hate, but they had these really cute shoes on the cover of the October issue that I saw at the grocery store, and three months later I still couldn't get them out of my head. So I'm all, "Let me just find out where they got those shoes, and then I'll get to work." And then I get sucked into Real Simple's useless tips such as how you could melt down a leftover birthday candle to coat a piece of thread with wax before threading a needle.

Here's the thing, Real Simple. Every piece of advice you give, in your entire magazine, every volume, every issue, is dumb. No, I do not have a leftover phone cord that I could use as a clothesline. And how could anybody have a winning answer in the readers' poll by suggesting that you use an oven mitt to store your camera while traveling? You know what I use to store my camera? An effing camera bag, you dumbass.

And also, what does the title Real Simple mean? The correct grammar is Really Simple.

And after skimming the whole dumb magazine, I didn't even find out where the shoes were from. I found this picture of the whole cover, which features the shoe in the upper left-hand corner:


But after some Googling, I realized that style of shoes is called a "shootie." You know, shoe + bootie? I find that name off-putting. No shooties for me, thank you.

Also I'm pretty sure I would break my ankle wearing those. And blogging + morphine (blorphine?) probably doesn't go over well.

I know it sounds like I'm in a bad mood, but I actually had a better day today. I'm still feeling a little anxious and off, for both positive reasons (my show coming up) and negative reasons (I think somebody is mad at me). But at least I worked out at the gym today (spin), and I'm not so nervous that I look like I have Parkinson's.

Here is something I learned when I got home from the gym. My kid's tendency to wake up in the morning and demand that the day be started immediately? He only does that with me. See, when I left for spin, father and son were curled up together slumbering away. When I got home, Nathan came downstairs and said, "I got up because you were here." It turns out that when he first woke up, he realized I wasn't there and Bill was still asleep, so he quietly lay in bed reading books.

Uh huh.

So he's some kind of perfect model child when I'm not there. Add that to the fact that he doesn't carry on about having to go to bed by himself except when he's with me, and I start to wonder why I even hang around at all.

Which is why I'm at the library. Still not writing my jokes.

I'm supposed to be writing jokes about Tony Award-winning musicals. It turns out, musicals aren't that funny. Or else the jokes I think of, I worry might offend people. Like for example, the very first Tony winner, 1949's Kiss Me Kate, was written by Cole Porter, who also wrote the musicals Fifty Million Frenchmen, Anything Goes, and Gay Divorce. I think they were a trilogy.

See, that could offend people.

And that was the first joke I thought of right off the bat, and I worried that it was not appropriate, so then I got stuck. It didn't help that I was trying to do my writing in the playground at the Lincoln Mall. So I packed it up, bought some pretzel nuggets at Auntie Anne's, and pulled out a wad of quarters so my kid could ride on those little cars you put quarters in.

Then I went to Old Navy and bought a tie-up cardigan. And then to Bath and Body Works, in search of some heavily-discounted Twisted Peppermint lotion leftover from the holiday season. And the employee said they sold out of it by Thanksgiving. And I was like, "No problem, I'll just use the trusty Internet to shop for this product. Stores are for suckers." And then later I went on the Internet and discovered that apparently there is no more Twisted Peppermint lotion anywhere in the entire goddamn Bath and Body Works warehouse.

So this winter I will be smelling like either Exotic Coconut or Brown Sugar and Fig. Total expenditure: $6.

When I got home from shopping, I made some popovers. I got the recipe a few years back from a cookbook I checked out at the library, which was called Grandma's Wartime Baking Book: World War II and the Way We Baked. It's full of easy WWII-era recipes with few ingredients, because, you know, stuff was rationed. The popover recipe has 4 ingredients: flour, salt, milk, and eggs. Butter is optional. And you don't use too much of anything.

However, I don't know how Grandma could have made that recipe in time for dinner after getting home from her shift at her wartime riveting job, because it took like an hour for the popovers to bake. Good thing I had plenty of time to make them after my long day of writing comedy and shopping for discounted lotions. My generation sure isn't the Greatest Generation. We may be the best-smelling one, though.

The popovers were supposed to go with some split pea soup I made. But my husband refused to eat the soup because he said it was "dominated by celery." Now we have a lot of soup left over, so if anybody would like some partially-congealed, cold split pea soup, come on over.

No takers? Fine, more for me.

Anyway, it's later now, and I got kicked out of the library at closing time. Like, seriously, a lady came by and rudely said, "Ma'am, this area is now closed," even though it was like 10 minutes before closing time. Now first of all, Ma'am? Crapbuckets. Second, stop being so rude. I'm not some dumb transient who just hangs out at the library for the free coffee and magazines. The free coffee is gross, and I paid a whole $1.50 for my Diet Pepsi from the vending machine.

And I think I may have muttered something under my breath, which may have looked like I was talking to myself and the voices I hear in my head, so now the librarian probably thought I was a deranged transient who hangs out at the library for the free coffee and magazines. And it's like, look, lady, I'll have you know that I totally have it together, because I take my Prozac every single day without even having to be told to. And besides I put together a really lovely dinner for my family using only small quantities of rationed goods.

Also, remember what I said earlier about being totally unnecessary at my home? Well, so I get home at 9:00, and my kid is wandering around the house wearing swim trunks and a Batman shirt, wailing that I have to put him to bed. Now, of course he was amping up the drama just for me, and he probably would have gone to sleep on his own just fine if I had given him 10 more minutes. So I guess I'm not so much useless as I am actually harmful. Seems like a good time to take that solo trip to Maui.

So, to sum up:

Real Simple: Not helpful
Me: Not productive
Musicals: Not Funny
Shooties: Not a good name

Oven mitts, morphine, Gay Divorce, Brown Sugar and Fig.

The end.