Wow, my brain really thinks I'm a loser.

Nightmare, Monday night about Books & Books reading Friday night: I run out of time and unable to have a cocktail before the reading.

Nightmare, last night: My friends get me *super* high and I'm too stoned to be funny.

I look forward to tomorrow night's escapade in the membrane. Actually, I think I'll refill my Klonopin scrip today so I can get some peaceful sleep. I'm actually more excited than nervous, but try telling my subconscious that. Sometimes it's hard to differentiate between excitement and anxiety. Lately I'm so unaccustomed to mere excitement without the attachment of something bad that it's even harder.

Anywho, so the reading. It's going to rock, actually. I'm going down to the store tomorrow to scope it out and meet with the events director. I basically have the mic for an hour from 8 to 9 p.m. AND, so does Wally! When Cristina said super dog friendly, well, Wally is as much a part of my story as anyone.

So I've got like a 20 to 30 minute reading and then I've got the rest of the time for Q & A etc. I'm esp glad about the Q & A since Schwartz, Chad, a couple of the Sinai nurses, Shrink etc will be on hand.

You know that Everybody Wears Sunscreen Baz Luhrmann remix video that I'm. AAAAAARGH FUCKING FIREFOX! I just lost all my Pulitzer-winning text about Oribe.

Fucking A. Version Two: A line in the song is do something every day that scares me. Not much scares or intimidates me in this town. With the exception of Oribe, Diety of Hair. Just the whole situation—like will he remember me? Have they issued a restraining order against that crazy, obsessed fan who brought in a 17-year-old book to sign? It's been on my short list to bring him one of the Heeb fliers so he could see both the cut, the gold pomade, and to invite him to the reading. Maybe that's what was scaring me—like having the nerve even to invite someone as big as him to an event starring me. While I'm quite comfortable performing in front of a crowd who will be filled with familiar faces, I'm not sure I could handle it with famous faces in the audience.

Here's another one of Laura's (unretouched) brill photos.

I'm saving these keepahs (sp whatever) to auction off one day for BC research $$.

Any-fucking-way. I went in and the hottie assistant who helped Oribe do me took a little reminding.

"Oh yeah! You brought in like this folder full of stuff for him and your whole crew and photographer!"

"Uh, yeah, the Versace book."

The Guru wasn't in yest, but I left him a postcard with a note on the back. I asked Hottie what Oribe charges. You could've knocked me over with a vat of the 24 Karat Gold Pomade when they told me his price. It's still the price of a (flat) pair of Choos, however it's about half of what Fekkai, Hershberger and Blandi charge. I think he's grandfathered his prices since the '90s. Cause I remember even back then it was only $100 cheaper at the most. LOVE him even more for that.

So now I'm on "The List" for January. Gracie who I gather runs the place for him totally knew who I was, took my name down and promised to get the card to Oribe. The List is not a BS exclusivity thing—because Oribe is literally jetting all over the world at a moment's notice, they don't know his travel sched till the last minute. Asked her to give me as much lead time as poss—cause that, not my doctors, shall determine my January schedule. Natch.

Tomorrow I'll have an update on my husband, er, Cancer I mean. Schwartz is running a FISH path report on my biopsy. He took me off Tykerb this week because of the side effects. When BC recurs, 25 percent of the time the strain can be different. I was HER 2 NU positive—being positive was what determined that I would get Herceptin. If this Cancer is not HER 2, he can put me on "better" drugs. Kinda hoping it has changed. I simply will not be able to live with the burning feet side-effect for the rest of my life. No fucking way. Hello, Manolos? My fucking sneakers have seen more action these past couple of weeks than ever. And I only have one pair of "cool" sneaks, black Costume National that I got from an outlet mall in Italy two years ago on our Amalfi Coast trip.

Okay, I'm off to traffic court.

And PS—I'm going to read a blog excerpt or two Friday night. Not sure which ones and am open to suggestion. OR should I take a really big risk—do something that really does scare me—and read an excerpt from Cancer Is the New Black. I'm actually thinking of "This is Not A Cancer Memoir" as an alternate working title. Whaddya think?


And Happy Birthday to Mel's hubby Chappy! Soo wish I were in the city for the soiree!