Despite what my agent, publicist, publisher and therapist say, I am quite sure that Oprah Winfrey has been trying to book me for an appearance on the last season of her regular program. And for that very reason, I monitor my emails, spam folder and voice messages just in case the people at Simon & Schuster have dropped the ball. It can happen, you know. My book team is very busy; trying to pacify the egos of writers who, unfortunately, won’t have the amazing opportunities that I will.

Right now, I’m positive that my book team is in a strategy meeting in midtown Manhattan reviewing media offers coming my way. It’s very important that my debut as America’s Genius of Satire be carefully strategized.  Praying before the altars of David Sedaris and George Carlin, I have been up all night chanting with lit candles and incense, so that I can make the best decision for my career as a glamorous author. Do I first appear on The View or The Daily Show? Will Barbara Walters be there on the day that I appear? I pray Jon Stewart reads my book. He's often woefully misinformed. Does Charlie Rose have a sense of humor? Or will he interrupt me, answering his own questions before I have a chance to respond, like he did with the Ambassador to Staten Island.

Decisions. Decisions.

            Because my fame and fortune is about to kick in, I have posted staff openings on Craigslist: realtor, architect, gardener, personal chef,  interior decorator, executive assistant, chauffeur, bodyguard, housekeeper, dog walker, accountant, masseuse, personal hairstylist and make-up artist, personal shopper, clothing designer and psychic.  Today, I saw a Park Avenue condo that has me written all over it.

And so that my publisher knows that I am a team player, I make sure to drop by their office to show that I’m available for any questions or concerns that they may have. I’m not like most authors; slow to return telephone calls or text messages. That’s why I save my friends at Simon & Schuster the trouble of calling me first. It’s far more convenience for them that I just wander around the publicity and editorial departments, to monitor what’s happening.  Separated by cubicles, members of my book team always seem to have a telephone receiver glued to their ear, or at least it appears that way when I show up at their desk. That’s a good sign that they are working away on my behalf. I even saw copies of my satirical novel neatly stacked near the paper shredder; easily accessible when David Letterman’s executive producer phones. 

To show you how much of team player I am,  I crashed the lunch meeting of my publicist, editor and a famous actor at the café across the street. The actor, who couldn’t write a book to save his Oscar, was pleasant enough.  My editor and publicist had frozen grins plastered on their faces. I think they were grateful that I rescued them from Mr. Famous.  Later, I posted my book cover, with a note of good cheer, on their Facebook wall. Heck, if I don’t bring joy into the lives of my book team and my fans, by promoting my seminal work, who will?

Now that we’re on a first name basis, the Simon & Schuster lobby security guards, whom have never had a book deal, are not the friendliest bunch of ex-cons. But any who, I just ignore their side glances. I don't mind taking the high road.

Some people you can’t help. And I will never be company for their misery.

I’ve tried to be helpful by requesting that they give me a permanent building pass to spare them the trouble of printing out a temporary one every day. Spare the trees, I say. We should all live in a green world. But thus far, all I get are their blank stares. I’m sure that they will change their sullen attitudes, when they see me on The Oprah Winfrey Show; but by then, I will be off on my international Simon & Schuster-sponsored book tour.

Ciao!

Sabrina Lamb is the author of "A Kettle Of Vultures...Left Beak Marks On My Forehead" (Simon & Schuster). She is based in the New York City area of the planet.

http://www.SabrinaLamb.com