So, last weekend I got to do something most of us moms dream about:
I slept in a hotel room. And, I woke up WHEN MY EYES OPENED ON THEIR OWN.
I don’t really know why I put that image above, but for some reason, this weekend made me channel my inner diva gymnast girl.
Anyhow, here is what else happened:
I met up with my two girlfriends, KATIE AND MELINDA* and we ate a lot of food. The hotel gave ups a free bottle of wine which both girls insisted we not drink so that was good. They have my back. They’re my posse.
Also: we shopped at Sephora. Considered having my eyebrows done, but decided not because you know:
However, I found a lipstick that, I kid you not, LIFTS my lips. I did not know this was a thing that needed to happen to my lips, but it’s awesome. Also, the stuff makes me coffee in the morning and I think it speaks three languages. It’s that good.
Then: I went to Teavana. I spent a lot more money than I should have. On tea. Want to know why?
It’s because they waft it at you.
Here’s me in Teavana:
Me: Oooooo, pineapple tea?
Young, earnest, serious tea drinker salesguy: Why yes. That’s our Oolong Geisha Fly By Night With a Pineapple tea. Here, (pulls down canister)…
Me: (starts to bend forward and take a sniff) Uh, what is that beeping sound?
Tea Man: Ma’am. That’s the You’re Doing It Wrong Buzzer of Shame. You do not sniff at the tea. I WAFT it AT you. Now, back away.
Me: I do the whaaaaaat? Dude. Are you ok?
Pretentious Tea Man: Yes. This is my job. I open the canister. And then, (flourish), I WAFT it at you.
Me: You get paid to do this?
Sad Tea Guy: I applied at Nordstroms. They didn’t want me. So, here.
And that’s how I spent crackamillion bucks on tea that smells divine, but still tastes like hay.
Y’all. I wrote a book. Did you know, I wrote a book?
Anyhow, we go into the Barnes and The Nobles and start perusing all the books we want (a million), and then… I get this thought…
Maybe. Just maybe… MY book is in here?
And I go up to the desk and say, “I am looking for a book? It’s by Dana Bowman? It’s probably not here but I thought I’d ask?” (Uptalker = insecure.)
And the nice lady takes me over and there it is! On the shelf! And I grab the nice lady and say, “That’s ME!” And she thinks I am a little off. I can tell. But then I tell her I’m the author, and then grab the book and proceed TO SHOW HER MY PIC ON THE BACK FOR PROOF, AND I JUMP A LITTLE.
Clearly, I need more work on the coolness thing. Because jumping up and down at Barnes and Noble is not something people do.
So, the nice lady who is clearly not impressed says, “Well, IF you ARE the author, you can sign it.” I show her, again, the picture on the back and even consider taking out my driver’s license, and then I GRAB at her a little because I am just so excited.
At this point I think nice book lady just wants me out of the store. So she gets a pen and I get my girl friends, because they will be excited for me. They are my girlfriends. They know when to squeal and jump. The nice book lady is not reacting like I wanted her to – with jumping and squealing and all that. I really wanted to have a moment with her. Alas, it was not to be.
So, I had the moment with KATIE AND MELINDA*. The best girls ever.
That’s Katie. She always has good hair. I would hate her for that but I can’t because I love her too much.
So, lookit. I found my book at a bookstore and I signed it. Signed two of them. And the book lady was patient and I teared up a little and hugged her. Afterwards she probably noticed the topic of my book and she said, “Ohhhhhh. It’s all very clear to me now. Why she was… that way.” Whatevs, lady. I wrote a book. You just sell ’em.
Then we all sassy-walked, all authory and stuff, outta there. I did a few step-ball-kicks as we departed. It’s possible I waved and said, “Farewell booksellers! And buyers! I wrote one of the books that is IN THERE! Goodbye, my people!”
And then we all went and had this for dinner:
You know why? Because we WANTED to. We had three cookies and a brownie and copious amounts of coffee. For DINNER, y’all. I know.
Also: we ordered a pizza at ten o’clock and watched two and a half of the Matrix movies in our hotel room, and our convos went like this:
“Why is she wearing high heeled boots? She can’t run in those.”
“I know. And that coat. It’s all flappy. It’s gonna catch on something. See! It just flapped at that dreadlocked guy! He has good hair. But he could just grab the coat and then it would all be over.”
“It’s a fight scene. It needs to be over. We shoulda written this movie. Oh Lord have mercy. They’re fighting again. Why do they have to fight so much?”
“Why are there always weapons laying about? Clearly these people have no children.”
“Keanu does really well in movies where he doesn’t have to register any emotions.”
I’m telling you, it was off the hook.
So, back to the book. And, if you are interested, you can see more about it here.
Also (shameless plug?) if you have read it? Would you leave a review on the Amazons? I will send you a puppy in the mail if you do so.
Ok, just kidding.
Or maybe, that lipstuff that I bought at Sephora. I just read the packaging and it says it will also fold your laundry and walk the dog if you ask it to, real nice.
*MELINDA AND KATIE wanted to be included in this post. I used their REAL names. No subtle code names (Helga and Bertha were my first options) for these guys, oh noooo.
Melinda and Katie: They are all real, all the time. And I am so grateful.
This post was sponsored by: Sephora, coffee, AMC movies, absolutely no wine, big fluffy pillows, and those cute little chocolates they put on the pillow for you at bedtime.
But not Teavana. I think this post will make that poor dude reconsider his path in life. Ones career path should not include “Wafter” as a job title.