It begins.

Henry: I have to tell you something. My best friend William French [not his real name—Eds.] had a cold today.

Me: So he wasn’t in school?

Henry: No. I just said that.

Henry: Actually, I was just kidding. About the cold. I was kidding! Do you know what really happened?

Me: No, but you’re going to tell me, aren’t—

Henry: I have to tell you something. So. Today we went to see Star Wars at the movie theatre.

Me: You went to see Star Wars.

Henry: We went to the movie theatre to see Star Wars. And on the way out William French hit! A! Pole! Like a wooden pole. He hit it.

Me: How did you get to this theatre?

Henry: We all got into a giant, monster size Toy Yoda. We went to see Star Wars, and on the way out William French saw a big wooden pole and he hit it with his hand, like a karate chop with his hand, and he broke it! He went hi-YAAA and broke it all in half.

Me: This story keeps getting better and better.

Henry: And now I have to tell you the very scary part. He had a Big. Wooden. Piece. Stuck in his hand. And the nurse had to take it out.

Me: The nurse at the movie theatre?

Henry No, the teacher who is also a nurse. She had to pull it out of his hand with giant tweezers. And he shouted, AAAH! But then it was all right. His hand was just fine!

Me: Wow.

Henry: You know what? I was kidding! William French just had a cold.

Me: That was a good story!

Henry (whispering): Actually I’m kidding about the cold. Everything else was real.

I am SO FAMOUS NOW.

First of all: Behold my banner! It was created by the lovely and talented Heather. She makes a good banner. I've heard her site is quite popular, too. I mean, I haven't read it, but that's what I hear.

(Here is where I consider inserting an emoticon to fend off the emails in which I am called a dumbass.)

It's weird to watch a show and wonder why you aren't on it. And then you show up! But only for a second. And I think they used a clip in which I was babbling off the record, when I thought, "They will never show me laughing like this, will they? Isn't it illegal to show this much gum on television?" And yet there I was, exposing my mouth parts to the world.

I realized my mistake when I was watching the show: I had tried to be funny, but apparently they wanted sincere. They were heading for Earnestville, and I was waiting for them over at Snarky Junction.

Anyway, at least I wasn't the young woman who cooed over "The Polar Express." I am glad it was someone's favorite-est movie ever, but that person should never be allowed to speak in any kind of public forum.

Ooh, you're thinking, are the grapes sour, in that basket of grapes you have there? And I'm thinking, what grapes? What basket? Are you insane? Shut up!

Honestly, watching a show and worrying that you might make an appearance is... uncomfortable. For the entire two hours of the show, I hid under a blanket, peeking out at the beginning of each segment to confirm that the talking head was not me. Meanwhile, my husband mocked me.

Me: I'm not in this one either. I must have been really terrible.

Him: God, you're right. Why am I still married to you?

Me: I don't even remember these topics! Why did they come up with new topics?

Him: That's because you were so bad that just looking at the questions from your interview made everyone cry, so they had to rewrite the entire script. Or, no, wait, I know what happened--your utter lack of charisma caused everyone on the set to die, and all copies of the questions to burst into flames. Then the building burned down. Thanks a lot.

Me: This is cute, the mock-insults. I find it amusing.

Him: I don't know what you're talking about.

Me: They let Bruce Vilanch on this show. So at least I know I wasn't cut because of my looks.

Him: Oh, make no mistake--you're much worse-looking than Bruce Vilanch.

Me: Hey, wait, was that me?

Him: That was you! That was you! You looked so great!

Me: Oh my god! You totally love me.

Him: God only knows why.

At least it’s for me and not at me.

Scene: Apartment. Alice is running from room to room, cursing under her breath. Henry is sitting amidst the piles of Star Wars guys.

Henry: Play with me. Play with me, Mommy. Play with me. Play with me. Play with me, Mama. [He knows this gets me.]

Alice: I can’t find my book. Where the hell did I put my book?

Henry: PLAY WITH ME.

Alice: I’m so frustrated! I have been looking everywhere for my book, which I just started, and I didn't want to like it but I do and I WAS JUST READING IT WHAT THE HELL DID I DO WITH IT?

Henry: I’m so frustrated too because you can’t find your book. Now play with me.

Alice: You have to give me a minute.

Henry: I am so mad at you right now.

Alice looks at the garbage bin. Could it be in there? But how? Why? What? She flips it open.

Alice: Henry! Do you want to hear a funny story?

Henry: I do want to hear a funny story.

Alice: My book was in the garbage, Henry. I put the book in the garbage. Because I am a crazy lady.

Henry: And I am laughing and laughing for you!

3:30 a.m. conversation.

Me: I discovered a new skill I have!

Scott: And you're going to tell me about it.

Me: Yes I am. I can guess the ages of any of the women pictured in the wedding part of the Styles section. Within a year! It's uncanny!

Scott: Wow, that's lame.

Me: It would only be lame if I weren't married.

Scott: Because then it would be some kind of spinster exercise.

Me: Anyway, I discovered that the women are kind of hard to read, but the trick is to look at the man in the picture. Unless the guy is like obviously wealthy, the older he looks, the older she probably is.

Scott: Why didn't you just guess the guy's age?

Me: I don't know. But what I'm trying to tell you here is, you're dragging me down.

Scott: I could have told you that.

Me: So as soon as you fall asleep, I'm going to be combing some Just for Men into your hair.

Scott: Go crazy.

Me: You know what I just realized? I'm twice as old as I was when I was eighteen. I'm eighteen times two.

Scott: You're Doubly Legal. And that's my second favorite magazine.