This morning I was watching Who Wants to be a Millionaire like I always do during my morning routine. To give you a clear picture, it goes something like this: Wake up, feel foggy, go back to bed with more comforters, wake-up again after really intense and dangerous early morning dreams (this morning it involved sea cucumbers becoming life-threatening and looking like porcupines or puffer-fish) and then I shower, get ready (aka put on some different sweat pants and my favorite snuggly slippers) and make breakfast. Then, my father and I sit down in our rightful couch positions and watch an entire hour of Price is Right where we almost always win every prize, because we’re just that good. He used to work in grocery stores and I’ve just seen too many episodes so I know when they’re getting a car and I know when the models look extra good, or just normal good. Then I go back upstairs and get ACTUALLY ready, you know the kind where you look like a person of society; wearing pants that have buttons and/or zippers, maybe put a bit of mascara on (who am I kidding, I redesign my whole face) and put copious amounts of gel in my hair, probably enough gel to kill a small animal. After all of that, we come to where this blog was started – Millionaire. I watch it everyday, I can usually win at least 60,000 in my at-home mini-couch and so I feel pretty smart for the rest of the day.
BUT TODAY, a boy was on Millionaire who wanted to move to Brooklyn and get into the publishing world. He wasn’t actually a fascinating person (I don’t know if the people behind the book are fascinating or not in today’s day and age. Let’s see who has a million bestsellers – Jodi Picoult, does anyone out there think she has this really fascinating life? I mean she is a red head, and she has psychic curly hair as well, so who knows. She could be creating frothy brew in her kitchen to poison her whole town I guess? I don’t know, that was a tangent. But anyway, he wasn’t fascinating, other than the fact that he worked as a popcorn maker at his local mall (reading books, obviously in his down time or when customers were sparse) and he claimed to have this publishing dream.
So, being the little English goody-goody I am, I was thinking about my own dreams of becoming SOMETHING at Harper Perennial. Why you ask do I want to work (edit for the sake of the E) at Harper Perennial? Well it all started with the book, Bride Stripped Bare. It happens to be one of my top ten favorite books of all time, and it happens to have a lovely little PS section at the back. At first, it was anonymously written, but then Nikki Gemmell in all her Australian glory finally came to claim the tantalizing novel (I’ve always wanted to use that word in a blog, it makes me feel dirty, like Nora Roberts novels).
The teens at work are arguing over owing each other a dollar, which is trivial, but definitely takes my focus away from what I was saying. Just let the dollar go, it’s a dollar – there are bigger things in the world than something you can find in a dumpster, or under your car seats, or couch cushions.
Harper Perennial is my dream job. They’re the paperback section of HarperCollins Publishing. Basically, if Harper Perennial and I were dating, I’d be that girl in the Verizon Wireless commercial sitting in her crushes closet waiting, neurotically, for him to text her back as she watches him continuously ignore her. Yes, I would be sweating. Yes, I would be cracking every joint in my body in the nervousness and anticipation.
Things I would do for a menial secretarial, get my coffee bitch, job at Harper Perennial include the following: I would move into an unheated apartment in NY where numerous other starving artists are sharing bunk beds and body odors. The showers would always be cold. The coffee would always run out. And I may get splashed around seven times a year by taxi’s while I stand on the sidewalk in a pencil skirt that makes my hips look like two large cabbages growing simultaneously from the same plant. I would wear a girl-tie, that has stripes or cartoon characters on it and scratch at my neck all day like Natalie Portman in Black Swan except without the disorder. I would read ANYTHING they put in front of me including a math textbook, because contrary to popular belief, math can be read and as we all know from high school algebra, it contains letters. I would leave my cat at home (it’s okay to gasp here especially if you’ve experienced being in a room with my cat and myself. It can definitely be an awkward third wheel experience. It will only be a matter of time until I start hoarding cats, maybe someone should send me to NY in order to start that episode on Animal Hoarding). I’ll give up internet, Mexican food, any sort of life I had before Harper Perennial.
I just want to read for them. I want my chipped nail-polish (grubby) hands all over those author bios, those back-book blurbs that everyone reads to decide if they want that book (personally, I read four pages in the beginning and end of the book to get a feel for the writing and then decide – bookstores take me a really long time to get through unless I know what I want). I want to be thrown into the uncomfortable environment of NY (uncomfortable because I’m used to winding roads and suburbia).
So, basically, HIRE ME, DEAR JESUS, HIRE ME. I’m on my knees in the middle of the teen center where I work, with children laughing at me and my hands clasped like a Catholic Pre-school student. PLEASE, I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER WITH CHERRIES ON TOP! Since this is a dream, and I know Harper Perennial won’t call me tomorrow or bring me a giant check like those old people commercials during Price is Right and Millionaire, I just want to encourage everyone to read Harper Perennial books because they’re seriously the best books out there right now. You can pick a few up at Target, you don’t even have to walk into your nearest snooty bookstore (most of my bookstores aren’t snooty, but I know people that feel that way). Plus, bookstores smell good, so really…just go to the bookstore and look for that little corner flap on the cover that says “PS.” Harper Perennial won’t let you down.