1) …for the love of christ, email me. I am your humble and rueful servant and interviewee — if you’ll still have me.

2) …when you are in San Diego next month to visit UCSD, I absolutely insist on buying you dinner at the yummy chow house of your choice. That offer is good for , as well. I say we hang, ladies, and hang TOUGH. I also absolutely insist that you CHOOSE UCSD for your graduate studies, Miss Angela. Sandy Eggo needs more brilliant dames like you sauntering about the place.

3) …I WORSHIP your choice of an author’s photo for the new book — and agree with James that you look like an extraterrestrial mermaid. Of course, that’s probably because you ARE an extraterrestrial mermaid — but that’s coming from someone who shared a bathtub with you for ten days and saw your fabulous fins firsthand. Miss Bee is absolutely iridescent, kids — don’t let her Saturnine self tell you any different.

4) …Hey, toots, I had a grand time stalking you and your family through the outer fringes of the Fry’s parking lot last weekend. I must admit that that’s a first for me. Your babies — all three of them — are gorgeous.

5) About a month ago, I was up really late one night and randomly did one of those memes you see floating around lj every so often — you know, the one where you anonymously address certain people on your friends list and tell them what you really think of them, without naming them specifically. It’s intended to make everyone all fucking unsettled and paranoid — except all the people to whom you send messages of love and adoration, of course. My husband thinks it’s hysterical and keeps begging me to post it — but I am not so sure. I read one of these on someone’s journal a few months ago and almost took my own life because I was just SURE they were baggin’ on MY no-talent ass.

6) One teenager lost her cell-phone this week (huge pain in my ass), and the other broke a bracket on her braces (not her fault, but STILL a huge pain in my ass), got her very first sewing machine (design school, here she comes!), went to the Bob Marley Fest with a whole flock of other darling, artsy girlfriends (she’s there even as we speak, in fact), and ordered her gottdamned graduation announcements for June. What I would like to know is how on earth I can have a child graduating from high school…when I am still 17 myself.

7) Okay, so the truth of the matter is that the underwear I am currently wearing are older than 17…but I’m just sayin’.