I’m here blogging live from Fire Island where we are, at this very second, watching Phantom of the Paradise, which is like a seventies version of Phantom of the Opera. Complete with a phantom wearing a motorcycle helmet, black lipstick and a pleather body suit. One part goth, one part WTF. Oh also he has metal teeth and talks through a vocoder too, though I am not sure why. Paul Williams is in it oh yes, that Paul Willams, of Muppets fame, Mr Rainbow Connection. Look, this is all very confusing and I’d recommend you to watch this movie, but actually you could just kick yourself in the nuts to get the same experience. And if you don’t have any nuts to kick just find the nearest pair and go to town. Why are we watching this? No idea. It’s amazing.

Anyway on Friday night at 9:30 I’ll be reading at the Rubin Museum of Himalayan Art. They’re hosting a film series called Cabaret Cinema where you get a drink and watch a movie, two great tastes that taste great together. I’ll be reading something mysterious, meaning I am not sure what I’m reading. And I’ll be introducing Nobody Knows, a Japanese movie about kids who are abandoned in Tokyo. It’s hilarious, if you think bawling your eyes out is hilarious, that is. Come and watch and listen and be a cultured winner. Winner! Annietown is for WINNERS ONLY.

And if you want to be an extra winner, on THURSDAY night you can come to the Last Known Settlers show at Matchless in hip Greenpoint (Manhattan Ave & Driggs). We go on at 10. Yes it’s late and yes it’s a school night. Be a WINNER. Two nights of Annie HFS OMG!!!

Ok end of promo/self sucking.

I just confirmed a reading at the Rubin Museum of Art on November 14. Dude, I know. It’s so fucking far away from now, I’m pretty sure even I will forget about it. But anyway, yes, November 14, mark your calendars. It’s so far away that I’m pretty sure my calendar doesn’t even go up that far, but whatever. Maybe yours does. Maybe you have some kind of magical calendar that can see four months into the future. Oh look, how special. It must be nice being so fancy.

The Rubin Museum focuses on Himalayan art and I’ve never actually been to it because the only thing I hate more than art is the Himalayas. Ha ha ha! I jest! How can anyone have anything against the Himalayas? That’s like saying “I hate Neil Diamond.” It’s just wrong. And impossible. Anyway in the fall they are screening a series of films that best illustrate a Bhutanese proverb. They asked the Asian American Writer’s Workshop to organize readings that best go along with the spirit of the film. That’s where I come in.

I’ll be paired with the movie Nobody Knows, directed and written by Hirokazu Koreeda. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but apparently it is a GUT-WRENCHING TEAR-JERKER. OK imagine that your boy/girlfriend has just dumped you. Then someone tells you that your puppy has to be put down. By you. Seriously. Everyone I’ve talked to who has seen has said, “oh god, it’s good but it’s so painful, so, so painful.” You can read descriptions about it, but basically it’s about four Japanese kids abandoned by their mother and left to fend for themselves in Tokyo. They should’ve just called it SADDEST MOVIE IN THE WORLD WHY BOTHER LIVING YOU ARE SUCH A DICK FOR BEING ALIVE. So now I have to ask myself, what should I read? (Hint: “Dear Architects, I am sick of your shit” is not the correct answer.)

How do you prep an audience for the biggest hour and a half downer ever? LIKE HEY EVERYONE WHY DON’T YOU LAUGH FOR A FEW MINUTES BECAUSE SOON YOU WILL CRY AND HATE YOURSELF. Do I bring the audience up, just so they can just go down? I am not sure. I remember my mom going to a funeral and being flustered because she didn’t know what to wear and the fact that she was flustered by such a stupid, little thing in the face of a funeral made her even more flustered. That is kind of like how I feel. What the fuck do you read? They would like me to read from the book, the one over there —-> I guess I will figure it out, but I’m very excited to be reading there. It might also be the only place I’ve read that didn’t, you know, go out of business.

OK. Does anyone actually like Christmas music? If so, please identify yourself so I can punch you in the throat and call you a liar. NO ONE likes Christmas music. Jesus doesn’t even like Christmas music and half that crap is about him. So, why are people playing it? Sometimes I want to break down in the store and just cry and then have a throwdown with the first “customer service representative” I see. Christmas shopping is already stressful enough, it’s like they are actually trying to kill me. Santa, why are you trying to kill me? I don’t know which is the worst Christmas song. It might be the “Twelve Days of Christmas” song because it’s about twelve days long. Like, why not just sing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall”? Or it might be “We wish you a Merry Christmas” because the song is like 5 minutes long but there are only 10 words. The word to minute ratio is very, very bad.

That reminds me of how my mother called me “Santa Claus maid” when she in fact meant to call me an elf. This is because I am on the petite side of the human scale. I’d be huge for a dog, mind you, but for a human, I am kind of small. But not, like, that small. But you know what I mean. The point is this: if you have read Happy Birthday or Whatever, you already know this. Sometimes I find myself saying things I wrote in the book and people call me on it. Like, yeah Annie, I read it, duh. It’s particularly bad with my close friends because they’ve heard it a million times, and then read it, and then now they have to hear it again. I’m surprised I have any friends at all, really. So then I get embarrassed and it kind of puts a damper on the conversation and I have to be like oh sorry, I forgot, say, that’s a nice shirt you got on.

Jelle, a lawyer from Belgium, just emailed me some news and now I am going to share it with you because I am a very nice person. Just ask my friends.

Happy Birthday or Whatever is ranked #39,622 in books on Amazon.com, which isn’t actually that good because I think there are only 39,623 books on Amazon, but WAIT HERE IS WHERE IT GETS GOOD:

I am ranked #85 in African American & Black memoirs!!!!

Sweet!!!!

Thanks to everyone who helped me crack the top 100 of African American & Black memoirs, we did it together! Go team!

I remember when the book first came out, Amazon put a little tag on it that said “Customers who bought this book also bought Joss Stone’s latest CD!” And I was like, dude, I am pretty sure 1.) no one bought my book and 2.) even if they did buy the book, they did not buy Joss Stone’s latest CD. So then when I looked at Joss Stone’s CD it did not say “People who bought Joss Stone also bought Happy Birthday or Whatever” and I got disappointed, but not really. So then I started browsing and noticed that many, many people bought Joss Stone along with some other books so I guess what I’m saying is that Joss Stone is a very popular person and her latest CD was purchased by many people, especially those who are interested in African American & Black memoirs.

Anyway sweet, dude! I’m #85!

You know what really hurts?

My toe.

I either sprained it or broke it, I can’t tell. It’s purple and swollen, but I can still walk on it. But OH MY GOD it is really killing me. It looks like a fat, purple cocktail sausage stuck on my foot. I could probably stick a toothpick in it and serve it on a fancy napkin. It’s my second toe too, which is really long and people tell me it looks like a prehensile claw, even when I tell them technically claws can’t be prehensile and then they tell me to shut my facehole. Anyway the point is that my toe looks like a prehensile Vienna sausage and I’m not sure what to do about it.

I could go to the doctor, but what would she say? You can’t do anything for a toe. Maybe I’d get a fancy boot. Which means people would have to give up their seats on the subway for me, which is kind of nice. I’ll be in the “elderly, disabled, or pregnant” category of people, which isn’t necessarily bad. I would like to sit in the “priority seats”. I would also like a cane. A cane can make an outfit look more dapper or more gangsta. Maybe I will get one with a big skull on it. With ruby eyes. Anyway I will think about my toe and consider my options and life in general.

Here is the part where I will be honest and reveal how stupid I truly am: I injured my toe during YOGA. I was jumping from this one thing to this other thing, and my toe decided, you know what? I am sick of this bullshit yoga. Go F yourself, I am staying RIGHT HERE. So there you go. I sprained/broke my toe because it refused to listen to directions, like some kind of punk with a cause. Guess what, Toe? I don’t like you either.

And in other news: Happy Birthday or Whatever is available in Korean. I had no idea it was out yet, but apparently it is. I received an email from a reader in Korea and I was like oh crap! It’s out already? No one tells me anything! So anyway if you want to order it in Korean, check out this link. In Korean they’re calling it “Fashion Terrorist” (I had no say in the title or the cover for that matter. It’s girlier than I expected, but then again, everything in Korea is much girlier and cuter). But the title is funny because they sound the English out phonetically: pa-shun teh-lo-leest-uh.

I think it’d be really cool to take the Korean translation and translate it back into English and then translate that into Korean again and go back and forth. It’d be like a game of literary telephone. We could translate it in different languages and keep going to see what happens. Could be interesting, right? We could try it with a paragraph, anyone want to help me on this? Sounds like an art piece. Or maybe a piece of shit. Hard to say.

Two days ago I was walking behind a girl who was carrying my book and I was like DUDE! MY BOOK! Crazy! Then I thought, OK, what now? What should I do? Do I go up to her and say, hey isn’t that the GREATEST BOOK YOU’VE EVER READ? You know a high-school kid told me it was way better than Death of a Salesman. Do you like it? BECAUSE I WROTE IT! ALL BY MYSELF! ALL OF IT! Here, let me sign it. DO YOU WANT TO TAKE A PICTURE WITH ME? I WILL LET YOU TOUCH MY HAND AS LONG AS YOU WASH YOUR HANDS FIRST. Then I thought, OK, that would make me look like a real douchebag. Like the douchiest douchebag ever. Meaning, there would be no douchebag douchier than I. So I just kept walking. I mean only three people have read it so what are the odds of actually seeing someone with it on the street? Anyway it was kind of cool and also weird. Also I thought that if I went up to the girl she’d think I was some kind of stalker. People don’t do that in New York. If some stranger came up to me blabbering douche I’d probably bust out the mace. Which I don’t carry, but you know what I mean.

So on Saturday night a bunch of my friends are hanging on the corner because that is what we do on a Saturday night. And there is this guy with sunglasses on sprawled on the curb in front of a pizza joint. On his back, spread eagle, with a slice of pizza in his hand. The pizza place (which isn’t very good and actually kind of disgusting) closes around 11:30 or midnight and it is 1:00 which means he’s been lying there for an hour or so. So then we think, what if he’s dead. Is he breathing? OK cool he is breathing. Then we think, should we wake his ass up because he might get robbed. So then I think, should I call 311? Does he need help? Or is he just having a good time sleeping there next to the mailbox that all the dogs in my neighborhood like to pee on? He is just lying there with his sunglasses on because it is so bright with all the street lamps. John kind of nudges him with his foot and the guy stirs. He stands up, leans against the mailbox and finishes his slice. Just like that. He stumbles for a bit. And then boom he is ready to party. But I don’t know how he could eat the pizza, the place is really not very good.

I have battled the MONSTERS OF MEMOIR and I have emerged VICTORIOUS. The MONSTERS are slayed! Who’s a winner? ME. No wait, YOU. Crap, how can I decide? We are all winners. winners = us

Thanks to everyone who caught a reading and also caught bronchitis (sorry about that). I can’t thank you enough for all your support and your gracious pimpage of Happy Birthday or Whatever. Special thanks to all the friends who housed me and fed me and drove me and all the good people at the fine, quality booksellers and bars that hosted me and my stupid book. Now I shall sleep. Oh wait, I’m at work. They won’t like that.

So what is next? That is a good question. I’m working on a young adult novel with a friend and working on a screenplay about zombies in the workplace. It’s a comedy. If Harper lets me write a sequel, I’ll do it. My mother wants to go on a trip with me through Asia, which sounds like the worst idea ever, so I’ll probably do it. Just thinking about that gives me hives. And I’ll continue to work. Because if I don’t, I will starve. There is no money in books, sadly. You know where else there is no money? IN MY WALLET.

Let’s see what else will I do? Keep the blogorrhea alive. Laundry. See a movie. Make some scrambled eggs. Bathe. Think about why towels smell after you use them. It’s like you bathe, you are clean. And yet the towel smells. Gross, right? Man I am so busy, lots of things to think about.

Stay tuned.

The last day of my MONSTERS OF MEMOIR tour has come and let me tell you, I am happy. Ecstatic. Thrilled even. I am actually sick of the sound of my own voice. PSYCHHHHHHH! NO way! I love my own voice! It’s so beautiful and soft and calming and peaceful and it never curses or yells things or gets me in trouble.

The final stop of the MONSTERS OF MEMOIR tour is on THURSDAY at Bluestockings Radical Books, which is located at 172 Allen between Stanton and Rivington. The reading begins at 7:00 post meridien.

Please note that YES BLuestockings is kind of an anarchist bookstore and YES it is apparently also a gay bookstore, but if you love gays and you love anarchists, then this is the place for you. There is also free trade coffee and probably some kind of vegan baked good. So if you like those, they will be available. Dredlocks and Molotov cocktails are free. Hugs will cost you. At least from me.

I’m reading with poets: Carly Sachs, Alexander Dickow, and Amy Lawless

and of course ANNIE CHOI.

So yes, come this Thursday! If you can’t then I must present you with the FINGER and send you a box of diapers, you big baby.

I have lost my voice. It has run away from me. If you find my voice, please return it to me. I’m not sure where my voice has gone. Maybe it escaped to Mexico, along with my sanity and money. Either way, I sound like I’m going through puberty, again which would be nice because I would love to grow another few inches and totes be crushing all hard on Tommy from homeroom. I don’t think I have a cold, but I’ve been coughing a lot which annoyed my voice, so she decided she would not stick around. The problem is that I am still on my MONSTERS OF MEMOIR tour and this laryngitis thing has dampened the fun factor. Forecast today: slightly cloudy with a chance of LAME.

Yesterday I gave a little reading/lecture/Q&A to Girls Write Now, a non-profit that hooks up inner-city high school girls with writing mentors. They were an awesome bunch of whipsmart girls and I recommend donating time or money to them. YES GIVE THEM YOUR MONIES. I managed to squeak everything out, but today my voice was completely shot and I had a reading at the 440 Gallery in Park Slope. I went up to the mic and a bunch of garbage came out of my mouth that no one could understand. (This happens to me a lot but not because of laryngitis.) So then my friend Rebecca stepped in and read the piece for me. So a big up and a WOO HOO to Rebecca for being my stand-in. YOU ROCK. She did not impersonate my parents, though I kind of thought she should have gone balls out gung ho rambo. But you know, she’s not Korean but rather a Jew from Boston so it might look offensive or something. Anyway if any of you ever need someone to read something, I highly recommend hiring Rebecca. She’s got a nice voice. In fact, I think she stole mine.

I just found out that HAPPY BIRTHDAY OR WHATEVER is going into another printing of 7,500 copies! Apparently Barnes and Noble put in a “big order” so that is A+. I am hoping to make corrections in this print run so if you guys have found any mistakes please email them and their page numbers to me at annie at annietown dot com. I will be most grateful. I will make you something. A toilet paper cozy. A paperweight out of a rock. Origami. Whatever you want, I’ll make it. As long as it’s a toilet paper cozy, a paperweight out of a rock, or origami. This book was one of the first to be electronically copyedited at Harper (no paper was harmed in the making of this book other than the destruction of trees to make the paper to print the book) so there are a few bumps in the text. But sweet, right? 7,500! I’m trying to wrap my head around that. Luckily, the Internet provided me with this example. Hahaha don’t ask me what that is. I mean you can ask me what it is but I can’t guarantee you that I will be right, though it seems obvious to me. It’s a time machine.