Pick me!

I’ve let the book-writing fall to the wayside lately and decided to pick it up again today; naturally I am now taking a break because I can’t think of what else to say in an essay I’m trying to write about how much all the McPolack children enjoy exercising and what that all means (is this a more interesting subject than how it looks now that I see it on-screen? Hmmm…) and I got a little stuck after explaining that I was such a non-competitive person when I was younger that I actually lost the treasurer’s position on my high school’s literary magazine by one vote because I, instead of voting for myself, voted for the other guy. I was just trying to be nice and also not act all full of myself. I remember that our faculty advisor was aghast at what I’d done, especially considering that the kid who’d won was the teenage embodiment of a loutish asshole, but what could I do? The vote was cast.

Anyhoo, I all of a sudden have lots to talk about, but as I know this is mainly a way to avoid working on the book, I will leave you with this little gem: my mother wants me to meet some guy who knows my father; her great hope is that he will either, A, get me a job in public radio, or, B, marry me, support me, and knock me up and give her some grandchildren. To further cause “B,” McMumsy helpfully offered this description of his (he is a marathon runner) physical presence: “I think he probably weighs as much as your big toe.”