I am not a natural leader. I vastly prefer being one of the followers, never in charge of anything. This leaves me free to point out just how the person who is in charge is screwing up their job, while not having to actually do anything about it.

But, every once in awhile, I’m thwarted in this quest to avoid responsibility.

Take, the other evening for example.

My son’s school has a 25-hour volunteer requirement for the families of each student. It’s not too onerous. That is, it’s not, unless you completely forget about it, and suddenly find yourself spending three hours filling water balloons for the end-of-the-year school field day.

(A job – as I learned last year – that completely sucks. Especially when you’re trying to fill them on a chilly night, and every other balloon breaks. And then, once you finally have a couple dozen of them filled, and you ever so carefully place them in a plastic bucket, they all fucking break at once. Total nightmare.)

Wishing to avoid a repeat of last year’s water balloon fiasco, this year, as soon as a call went out looking for volunteers for our school book fair, I sent back a breezy email, offering to help out.

This was somehow misinterpreted as an offer to be in charge of the entire damn thing.

At first, I thought I’d be okay. I had a co-chair, and she seemed quite on top of things. She’d send me emails telling me what she’d done, and I’d reply, complimenting her on how well she was doing. It seemed like a perfect relationship . . . right up until I got an email from my co-chair announcing that she and her family were departing for Europe for the remainder of the school year, and I was suddenly on my own.

Crap.

The thing is . . . the book fair went okay. Mostly. There were a few snafus, but nothing major. On the whole, everyone seemed to have a good time. They bought books, which was the point of the whole thing. And – shockingly enough – the people in charge have already asked me if I’d be willing to chair the event next year.

Still. I’m not convinced that leadership is my forte. I’m just not a fan of any sort of evening activity that doesn’t involve tennis or cocktails. Or, preferably, both. So we shall see.

Maybe I’ll be the first mom ever to throw a cocktail party themed book fair?

This week the big prize is two signed copies of books from my Young Adult series, GEEK HIGH.

In order to enter, do the following:

(1) Like me on Facebook and/or Follow me on Twitter; and

(2) In the comments below, tell what your current favorite TV show is. I need to find something new to watch. Is GAME OF THRONES any good?

Contest ends on Friday, May 18th, at 5:00 PM EST.

Good luck!

“Put. That coffee. Down. Coffee’s for closers only.”

– Blake, Glengarry Glen Ross

“I don’t know much about being a millionaire, but I’ll bet I’d be darling at it.”

― Dorothy Parker

Drum roll please . . .

Bum bum bam. Bum bum bam. Bum bum bam.
Bum bum bam. Bum bum bam. Bum bum bam.
Bum bum bam.

(Did you recognize that as the drum tab to Queen’s We Will Rock You? Love Freddie Mercury SO MUCH.)

Introducing . . . Freebie Wednesday.

This week, you can win a signed copy of When You Least Expect It.

In order to enter, do the following:

(1) Like me on Facebook and/or Follow me on Twitter; and

(2) In the comments below, tell me the most annoying thing that happened to you this week.

Consider it therapy. With a chance to win a free book thrown in.

Contest ends on Friday, May 11th, at 5:00 PM EST. Also known as martini time.

Update: The winner will be selected randomly, not by who has the saddest story. That’s just to entertain me. Oh, and also, this is going to be a regular, weekly feature. Free Shizzle Wednesday!

“I am eyeing the champagne, which suddenly becomes exactly what I need to to give me a bit of courage and uplift. Have no trouble in understanding how women, especially mothers, become alcoholics. In fact, find it much harder to understand why so many don’t.”

– Raffaella Barker, Summertime

ME: Did you hand in your homework?

SAM: No.

ME: Why not?

SAM: I don’t know. I sort of forgot about it.

ME: But I don’t understand. You did your homework. That’s the hard part. Handing it in is the easy part.

SAM: Okay.

ME: I’m serious. You might not think that second grade homework is a big deal, and maybe it’s not. But as you get older, homework becomes more and more important. You have to get in the habit of doing it, and – here’s the key part – turning it in. Or else, you know what will happen?

SAM: No, what?

ME: You’ll end up being a garbage man when you grow up. Do you want to be a garbage man?

GEORGE: Wha-at? How do you jump from not handing in his math homework to becoming a garbage man?

ME: It’s a slippery slope.

GEORGE: That doesn’t even make sense.

SAM: I’ll just hand my homework in tomorrow. That way I won’t have to be a garbage man.

ME: [To Sam] Good. [To George] See? Lesson learned. When it comes to parenting, there’s a method to my madness.

GEORGE: Good to know.

North to drop off, asshole.

I still can’t believe this happened.

I was sitting in car line on Friday afternoon, innocently checking my texts, and as a result, a small space opened up between my car and the one in front of me. About three car lengths, give or take. And about thirty cars back from the point where you actually get your child.

And another mother drove around me. Thereby cutting me in line.

Two days later, and I’m still reeling.

It’s not exactly a large school. I sort of know everyone, at least by sight. And since, once she cut the line, I pulled my head out of my ass and moved forward, I got a clear view of the bitch, and now know exactly who she is.

(By the way? Total bimbo. She even has a bimbo name, although that’s probably not her fault. Unless, she was once a stripper and changed it. Which would actually make sense on a lot of levels.)

It’s not like I’m a stranger to school car line road rage. And yes, I do get annoyed by spacey chicks who are more focused on their phones than on progressing forward. I think we’ve all been there. I’ve sat there, stewing, and contemplating a toot of the horn to get things moving, but have thus far resisted.

But to actually cut in line?

It’s unheard of.

It’s an asshole move.

Clearly, she should be punished and shunned.

I went to a cocktail party that night, and lost no time telling everyone who would listen about this. There were a few (gratifying) gasps of horror, and one outright denial.

“I know her, and she would never have done such a thing,” a friend said.

Huh.

Would and did, baby. Would and did.

Moonshine’s up to over $15 a jar?

Damn economy.

“When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, “Why God? Why me?” and the thundering voice of God answered, There’s just something about you that pisses me off.”

― Stephen King, Storm of the Century: An Original Screenplay