The Book of Moron

Published May 23, 2014 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

I used to call my blog The Book of Moron and today I can “not so proudly” tell you why. My little pink book needs promotion in order to sell copies to people other than my mother and my dog walker and so my wonderful publisher Donna Cavanagh has been doing her darndest – (I can see this is not a word but I’m not changing it) to get a gal who likes to talk about her vagina and eating cake out of a garbage can – some press. She is amazing. She has been listening to me rant about what an unfunny failure I am for quite some time now and hasn’t told me to shut the fuck up – yet. She’s getting close – I can tell. She recently set me up to go on a nationally syndicated radio show with a man named – well lets just call him – Bob. Bob called me a month ago to set up a time for the interview. It took me a few days to call him back as I was in Seattle and quite frankly he was the first interview set up and I was nervous about the book and wasn’t sure I was even going to talk to anyone. Then when I realized the books wouldn’t fly off the shelves without promoting it – no matter how cute my cover is – and it’s fucking cute – I called him back and set a time.
Bob: “Two weeks to call back? You know I’m doing someone a favor with this interview?, right”
Me: “Sorry it’s only been a few days.”
Bob: ”No it’s been two weeks.”
Me: “Really Bob, it hasn’t, I swear.”
Bob: “Whatever. How does the 23rd at 9am sound. Great? Bye. Send me an email. My address is (he gives email.)
Me: “Bob I’m in the car I don’t have a pen and I can’t write down your email.”
Bob: “It’s not that hard. (He gives email again and hangs up.)
So I pulled over and wrote down what I prayed was his email and wrote in my iphone on the calendar – Bob radio – 9am.
Well the day was here and I looked in my iphone and saw Bob 9am but couldn’t remember if it was 9am my time or his. So I sent him an email.
Hi Bob,
Is the interview 9am my time?
Reply from Bob:
9am EASTERN.
I say to myself – okay good. Noon my time.
See what I did there? See why I’m a moron? I did the time thingy the wrong way. Here’s how my brain worked. New York is three hours earlier than here so BAM – noon interview. Hahahahahaha. Wow. No need for an IQ test here people we have a moron!!
So last night for the first time since the 1800’s – I slept like a baby. I woke up to two messages from Bob.
Bob: Hey you were supposed to be on at 9 my time.
He’s panicked. He’s mad. But it’s only 8:14 my time so I’m not sure why he’s so mad. If I got it wrong at it WAS 9 my time then we’re good. No? No – he screamed at me in the phone. “It was 9 am EASTERN!” I still was not registering it at all. No compute. Me No getty. “Can’t we just talk at 9 then in 45 minutes why are you so mad.” “Heidi, the show was over two hours ago.” Me: “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Bob told me once again, that he was doing someone a favor by having me on in the first place and that he sold the time to advertisers and because of me not showing up he was left with a hole to fill. (Not the first time a man has told me that) So I offered to pay Bob. He said it was 750 dollars but he wasn’t going to make me pay that – I could pay what I thought was fair. I wanted to say – what would have been fair was you not insisting on being a man and just replying to my first email with the words – 6AM YOUR TIME. But I said – fine – I’ll send you a check. Then Bob said how about 1500 and you can do two segments. Wow that turned fast. He said – why don’t you think about it and we’ll talk through email again. I hung up. I made coffee. I laughed at what a fucking moron I am. I can’t tell time and I’m 53 years old. Oh well. I think I’ll celebrate my screw up with a shoe purchase. The stores open at 10 am. My time. Everyone’s time.

9 comments on “The Book of Moron

  • Hysterical. Bob is a humorless, desperate, self-important imbecile; you are a hilarious, confident, self-effacing genius. Send him an autographed photo of your cast and a truthful note, “You wish you were me.”

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