Heather Armstrong rocked the house tonight at Powell's bookstore in Portland. She was hilarious as usual and even more so in person than in writing, which is no small feat. I swear the Tennessee accent makes everything she says 98% more riotous. But more than anything else, she seemed really really happy and that made me (and the Twin Peaks of zitdom on my chin) happy too.
(Photo taken by the lovely and talented RhiRhi who joined me for cocktails beforehand with our pal Kerrianne).
I live about thirty seconds from a Border's Books and it's not unusual for me to leave the house and get writing done there on the weekends. Lately I've been using the store like a library to do sex scene research for my book (am I too raunchy? not raunchy enough? It's hard to know what's just right.) (She said in her best imitation of Barry White's voice.) Anyway the last time I was there, I headed straight to the new releases section and found Heather's book: It Sucked and Then I Cried.
I hate to even admit this so earnestly, but something about seeing her book right there on the wall at my local Border's made me eerily sentimental. My hand flew to my chest and covered my heart pledge-of-allegiance style as my eyes read her name on the front cover and then I plucked her baby off the shelf and bought it immediately with my rad 40% off coupon.
She did it.
How effing awesome is that?