Well, not a party so much as a Hellcat Hussies burlesque show, and not so much invited as asked to tag along if, y'know, I had nothing else going on, but if you're coming here expecting strictly accurate autobiographical notes, God help you.
The reading from Up All Night: Adventures in Lesbian Sex, featuring Rachel and her name isn't really girlnyc, but you probably know that, was much better than that silly old David Sedaris reading on Friday. For a start, I could actually see the people doing the reading. And met them, and they autographed my copy (oh, shut up), and had a photo taken with Rachel in front of a wall of dild-- um, in the friendly confines of Early to Bed, and have no idea how to end this run-on monstrosity, so I'll just stop.
Mind you, between that, hanging out with Wendy on Friday and catching up reading Jessa Crispin/Blog of a Bookslut, I'm starting to think I'm the only person who didn't attend BookExpo. Then again, this is not a publishing blog, and unlike, taking examples totally at random, TranceJen and Heather, I'm not working on a book, either.
I know, I know, I'm hanging out with the wrong crowd, women in publishing. Good thing I still have Tristan to feel superior to, is all I'm saying.
What, you think she's gonna write a book? The spell checker would explode. . .
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