American Survivor Blogzillas

Wow. Those Monday holidays really throw me off. Now that I've realized it's Wednesday (and not Tuesday - as my addled brain would have me believe...because it's evil) I'm barely posting on time. Technically, there are 3.5 hours still left in Wednesday - so maybe I'm okay.

I've been watching a lot of reality shows lately, from Bridezillas to American Princess - among others. And it made me realize that 1) I'm a sick and twisted person, and 2) reality shows aren't reality-based. I once watched an episode of Nick and Jessica and The Osbornes (not together - that would be beyond icky)- only to realize that these celebrities' lives are like mine - beyond mundane.

Now, I'm sure you think that we, the writers on this blog, as romance/mystery writers, live thrilling, exotic lives. That every day, we awaken to the scent of fresh roses on the nightstand, put on our tiaras and pick up our magnifying glasses to have an exciting day filled with romance and suspense.

Well, here's the reality. I hit the snooze button several times, to the fresh scent of Vick's vapo rub on the nightstand. At some point I realize that I only have 45 minutes to get the kids up, fed, dressed, lunches packed and out the door. I let my dogs out, feed the cats and scoop the litter box, and wake up children who either pretend they have suddenly lapsed into a coma or hurl threats at me. At this point, I'm dressed in one of my husband's old army t-shirts and some lounge pants. Eventually I get the kids out the door and settle, still in my pajamas, to check e-mail and hopefully, come up with some brilliant writing. Lunch consists of a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich, letting the dogs out again, maybe cleaning a bathroom or two, and then hopefully, back to work.

About two o'clock, I realize I'd better take a shower before the kids get home. Then we go through all the glamour of homework (where they feign lobotomies and act like they don't know what a pencil is for), dinner (where they try to convince me that McDonald's Happy Meals hit all the food groups), baths (where two sweaty kids try to tell me they don't need to bathe) and eventually, bedtime. After that, it's whatever needs to be done for the next day.

I know, I know. You're wondering why I told you this. Well, maybe it's because watching all these reality shows had made me realize that even when you're doing what you absolutely love, there are still deadlines, a personal life, and the basic mundane activity of just working.

It's my reality show. But I'm not stupid enough to sign a contract with the networks to let everyone see it. Because in my imagination, I'm wearing a tiara and drinking fresh squeezed orange juice made by happy woodland creatures. At least - that's how it looks to me.

Yours Truly,
Leslie "The Assassin" Langtry