A Whopper of a Wednesday

Whew, am I ever freakin’ tired. Your humble narrator appeared on City-TV’s  “Breakfast Television” this morning, cold-pimpin’ the book, and did an interview with one of the hosts, the semi-divine Dina Pugliese:

She was everything: smart, funny, cool, friendly, warm– and, obviously, so gorgeous I could hardly stare directly into her beauty-rays. In Manhattan (I think) Woody Allen says to Diane Keaton (one of my favourite lines of his), while they’re riding in a taxi: “You’re so beautiful I can hardly keep my eyes on the meter.” I wanted to say to DP: “You’re so beautiful I can hardly keep my mind on pimping my book– that’s Damage Control, by the way, people, available at finer boosktores near you.”

But I managed the trick somehow. Everyone at BT was great: fun, friendly, and welcoming. TV usually gives me the willies, but they made it easy. Around there they’ve declared it “Whopper Wednesdays” around there, so everyone was scarfing down Whoppers at 7:30 a.m., which is, like lunch for them. Gross, greasy fun!

Then it was off to CIUT for “Take 5.” I have to tell you, I’m impressed by how much of the book everyone’s read on this go-round, and how intelligent and astute the questions.

Then it was home for a nap– because I woke up at freakin’  5 a.m. this morning. And you know when you do these early-morning things you toss and turn and sleep badly.

I just zonked out, complete with freaky dreams and everything. Woke up crabby, got in trouble with Pam (my wife and true goddess, as anyone who knows me, the world’s most faithful husband, knows: if, late one night, while Pam was off on a trip with the kids to, say, her mother’s house, Dina Pugliese were to appear nude as a silhouette in my doorway, I would pull the covers up around my neck and say: “Dina! This is terribly inappropriate! you’re a lovely woman and fantastic TV presenter, but I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea from what was after all a purely professional encounter! I’m going to have to call you a cab and you’re going to have to exit my domicile immediately!”), who’s taking the week off for “March break madness” with the kids.

Tonight it’s off to “Press Pass” for St. Patrick’s Day, where the featured drink on the menu is “Irish car bombs,” a shot of (Irish) whiskey dropped in a pint of Guinness.

Lord have mercy on the soul of a poor sinner like me! If this book-promoting stuff doesn’t kill me, I just hope it somehow makes me stronger.