Fun Facts About ME

Wow, this topic. Seriously — “Fun Facts About Us”? What incredibly bad timing. We’re in the middle of the Republican National Convention, a four-day, red-white-and-blue extravaganza designed to stroke the ego of the world’s biggest narcissist. How can five profoundly insecure newbie authors possibly compete with that level of self absorption??

Well. I guess if any of us can do it, it’s probably me. So here goes. Seven fun, self absorbed facts About ME, ME, ME:

(1) Sometimes at night I imagine being President of the United States. I’m 15 pounds thinner, have great hair, and there’s a steely glint in my eye that makes world leaders, ISIS terrorists, and the Arkansas Congressional delegation shit their pants. Sort of like Claire Underwood. Without Frank.

 

 

(2) I can’t prove this, but I’m certain the Golden State Warriors lost the NBA Championship because I didn’t watch the last game from my lucky spot behind the couch. LeBron James is deluding himself if he’s thinking he had anything to do with it.

(3) When I’m not home, I’m convinced my cats and dogs lie in front of the door and mope inconsolably. They don’t even get up to eat. It’s like they’ve lost their will to live. They’re lying there right now, while I’m in this coffee shop. (Okay — the labrador might take an occasional break to raid the pantry. But she’s just eating her feelings.)

(4) When grocery store checkout clerks, gas station attendants, and Uber drivers ask me how my day is going, I tell them. Like, really tell them. Why wouldn’t they ask if they didn’t want to know? And why wouldn’t they want to know?

(5) I’m researching my family history, and everybody’s a farmer. Eight generations of farmers. This upsets me. I feel like there should be a Duke or an Earl somewhere in there. I mean, just look at me! I may not have had my toenails done in six months, and I’m wearing ratty workout clothes that I haven’t actually worked out in, but clearly there’s aristocratic blood in these veins.

(6) When I go on vacation, I expect the weather to be perfect. I’m personally affronted when it’s not. Didn’t the weather gods get the memo that I, Heather Young, would be backpacking in the Canadian Rockies for five days, and that constant cold rain would not be acceptable? THEY’RE FIRED.

(7) My book launches next week, and from that moment on I will look at everyone in the entire world with squinty eyes and wonder if they’ve read it. Then I’ll wonder if they liked it, or if the reason they’re avoiding me isn’t because I’m staring at them like a stalker but because they hated it and don’t want to tell me.

See, narcissism isn’t always fun! Just ask The Donald. He feels my pain. Or maybe I feel his. I guess it depends on which one of us is talking.