The Descendants | Kaui Hart Hemmings | Talks at Google

Welcome to today's Authors at Google event. It's my pleasure to have one of our finest young writers, Cowie Hart Hemmings, with us here today. Cowie holds degrees from Colorado College and Sarah Lawrence, and she was a Stegner Fellow at Stanford. She was, well, at Stanford, my writing teacher before I came to Google and before she published either of her books, House of A Collection of Stories and the Descendants, her recently published first novel. I normally don't quote blurbs or reviews when I do these things, but this one from Daniel Handler, who many of you know as Lumny Snicket, was a little too good to pass up, he said about her novel, this novel is like the surf, glinting and bubbly on the surface and then it smacks you in the face and knocks you over and suddenly you're sputtering on the shore wondering what powerful force just worked you over. Cowie's been working on a collection of essays on parenting in San Francisco. She likes to call them true fiction. I'll call them essays persistently, and it's titled how to Party with an Infant and is guaranteed to make every one of you laugh. She'll be talking about her work, taking questions, and signing books afterwards. Without any further ado, please join me in welcoming Cowie Hart Hemings to Google.

Just go over here. Hi, I love Google. Just had the best lunch. You guys should consider sponsoring writers. Like I can wear a Google shirt at readings or something and hang out here. Okay, I'm going to read well, about the novel it's set in Hawaii. Its main character is Matt King and he's a descendant of Hawaiian royalty and missionaries. And recently his luck. He's a pretty fortunate guy, but recently his luck has changed. His gregarious and outgoing wife is now in a coma and he has suddenly become a kind of Mr. Mom to his two daughters, 10 year old Scotty and 17 year old Alex. And he's never really gotten to know them before. Eventually in the novel he's going to gather friends and family to say goodbye to his wife and along the way he finds out that his wife Joanie has been having an affair. And so he decides to take his daughters on the road or to another island to find this man she's been having an affair with and to bring him back. The other thing that's going on this novel is that he's a beneficiary of one of the most wealthiest trusts on the island. In fact, in reality it's the most charitable trust in the nation and he has to make a decision about who to sell his land to, he and his cousins, and that ends up being a sort of big part of the novel. But I'm going to read early on in the novel when he doesn't know the severity of his wife's situation, that he doesn't know she's going to die. And right now I'm just going to read a scene about him and his 10 year old daughter. And Esther appears for a brief appearance. She's a housekeeper. His housekeeper. And she's sort of given him a crash course on parenting because once again, he's never really had done this role before. Okay. Just when I'm about to go to my room and get to work, a stare tells me that Mrs. Higgins has called and wants me to return her call immediately. Who's Mrs. Higgins? Lonnie's mother. Who's Lonnie? I ask. Scotty's friend. Maybe call her. She takes a long sip of her water and exhales loudly. Could you call her? You know I have that work to do. I already talked to her. She wanted to talk to Mrs. King. I say, Mrs. King sick. And then she asked to talk to you. Great, I say. She'll want me to help with a bake sale or a carpool or I'll have to volunteer at a dance. That's the thing with a crisis. My wife is in a coma. But this doesn't prevent life from happening. There's still Scotty's school that I have to deal with. Hours I need to bill this trust that needs to be tended to. Esther leaves the kitchen with a bucket full of cleaning products and I use the kitchen phone to call Mrs. Higgins. A woman answers practically singing hello. I like when people answer a phone this way. Or when women answer a phone this way. Hello there. Is this Mrs. Higgins? Yes, she says telemarketers must love her. Hi, this is Matt King returning your call. Scotty's father, actually. I don't even know if your daughter's a classmate of my daughter's. I just assumed. Yes, Lonnie is a classmate of Scotty. She says the sweet cadence of her voice is gone. Sorry, my wife's not feeling well and can't return your call. But how can I help you? Well, she says, let's see. Where should I start? I assume this is a rhetorical question, but she seems to be waiting for me to tell her where to start. I guess you should start at the beginning. Okay, she says. Here's the beginning. Your daughter seems to be text messaging my daughter some pretty darn awful things and I'd like her to stop. Oh, I say. What things? She calls her Lonnie Piggins and Lonnie Moo. Lonnie Moo is the cartoon cow for a local dairy company. Huh, I say. I'm sorry about that. Kids can call each other names sometimes. I guess it's a form of affection. I look at my watch. She writes nice shirt to my daughter. Or Nice pants. That's nice, I say. It's cyber sarcasm. She yells, and I pull the phone away from my ear, not because the yell is high pitched, but because it's low and gravelly and mother wolf like. But maybe it's not cyber sarcasm and it's sincere flattery. She writes CS after that stands for cyber sarcasm. She also calls my daughter Lonnie Kai, inferring that she's the size of an entire neighborhood. I don't say anything. I even sort of smile because it's clever. Also, she continues, your daughter said that she's afraid to be her partner at the rock wall because Scotty doesn't want to fall into my daughter's butt crack. That doesn't even make sense. I'm about to say that Scotty may be implying that Lonnie's butt crack is bigger than most, like a crevasse, because of the blown up scale of the rest of her body. It's a logical continuation of the fat joke, but I refrain. This is terrible, I say. Here, Mrs. Higgins says. Why don't I relate to you, her latest work? We all know you grew pubes over the summer. That's it. She just sends little messages like that for no reason at all. My daughter doesn't bother her in any way. I think of Scotty eating lunch and wonder if she was text messaging Lonnie right there at the kitchen counter. Terrible, I say again. Not at all like her. She's very sweet. I'm afraid her mother isn't well and maybe that's it. Maybe this is how she's dealing with it. I don't give a shit about the backstory, Mr. King. Whoa, I say. I just know that my daughter comes home from school in tears. And yes, she's developing a bit early and is highly sensitive to her growth. And maybe she doesn't shop at Neiman's Kids or wherever you get Scotty's clothes. Sure, sure, I say. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I haven't read any blogs about name calling and Esther hasn't prepared me for this at all. I've been fooled By Scotty. Who are you really? I want to ask. Scotty should be the one who's sorry. I want her to come over and apologize, and I want her to be reprimanded. I'll talk to her, I say. I'll get to the bottom of this. I'm afraid we're really busy this week with her backstory, but I truly am sorry, and we'll talk to Scotty immediately. That's a good start, she says. But then I want an apology to Lonnie, and I don't ever want Scotty to write her a write her again. She can, in a good way, I hear a voice say in the background. In fact, I'd like her to come by today, or else I'll have to take this up with a dean. You can't buy your way out of this. Excuse me? What are you talking about? It's your choice, Mr. King. Should I tell Lonnie you're coming by right now, or should you and your daughter handle this matter with the school? I get her address. I make promises. Life keeps happening on the way to see the Higgins who live nearby in Kailua. I coach Scotty. We need to get in and out quickly. You need to say you're sorry, I say. And you need to mean it. I need to get to work, so no dicking around. She's quiet. I've taken away her message gadget, and her hands are open in her lap, fingers cupping the air. Why would you call her those things? Why would you be so mean to someone? How do you type all those words? I don't know, she says, her voice full of irritation. You made her cry. Why would you want to make someone unhappy? I didn't know she was so sensitive. She writes back LOL sometimes, so I thought she wasn't going to be a dork about it. What's lol? Laugh out loud, she mumbles. Do you just do this texting by yourself? She doesn't answer. We pass the antique shop and the dealership full of gigantic trucks. As we veer toward the strip of newer shops, we both look at the kids who skateboard under the banyan tree. We always look at them. Probably everyone does as they turn on Kailua Road. You just sit there and write nasty things, then go about your day? No. Well, what then? I write them with Raina. It makes her laugh. And then she shows what I wrote to her to Rachel and Brooke. In them. I knew she had something to do with it. I knew it. Raina Burke, 12 years old. I see her at the club, wearing string bikinis and lipstick. She has this collected air about her that no 12 year old should have. She reminds me of my other daughter, beautiful and fast, ready to dump her childhood like a bad habit. From now on, you're not to hang out with her, I say. But Dad, I already have plans with her and her mom on Thursday. You've plans with your own mother? Mom can't even open her eyes. She says she's never going to. Of course she's going to. Are you crazy? She stares straight ahead. You need to be with your mother, not some other mother. Can Reina come to the hospital? I don't get to see anyone since I'm not in school. I'm surprised she would want a friend at the hospital. But I'm thinking if Rain is there, then maybe Scotty will interact with Joni. She won't just sit and stare if her friend is present. Fine, I say. You apologize to this girl. You'd be nice to her today and every day after. And Raina can come on Thursday. Well, I need my BlackBerry to tell her and to say nice things to Lonnie. Moo. You can pick up the phone, for Christ's sake. And don't call Lonnie.

That.

We drive through Kailua Town, which has been recently remodeled to look like a strip mall in any nice street suburb in America. Tourists are everywhere and they've never come to our town much before. I know that when I sell the land, the buyer will develop it into something exactly like this, even though I like the way the strip mall looks. And Joanie does too. She loves gentrification. Can we get smoothies? Scotty asked. No. Can we get burgers? That does sound good. No. Oh my God. Tell me you don't want a Monster double right now. You just ate Scotty. Fine. Then a peanut butter shake. My mouth waters. Stop it. No to everything. The traffic slows and we crawl to the light. A family walks alongside us on the grass, the father carrying a yellow plastic kayak over his head. Everyone in the family, the two kids and the parents and two other adults, wear purple T shirts that say Fisher Family Reunion. Dorks, Scotty says. We pass them and stop, and then they pass us. The light ahead turns green and the traffic begins to move once again. As we pass, Scotty leans out the window and yells, dorks. The father thrusts out his hand to block his wife and kids, as though keeping them from flying forward. Scotty, what was that? I thought it would make you laugh. I look at the Fisher family In the rear view mirror the father is gesturing wildly at the older son, who is taking off his T shirt and throwing it to the ground. My head pulses. Roll your window up, I say. It doesn't roll. This isn't the twenties. Then press it up. Whatever. Christ. And there are still cars that have roll up windows. They're basic models. Nothing wrong with that. Turn right here, scotty says. You know where she lives? She invites me to her birthday like every year. Stop saying everything to me as if I'm supposed to know. It's that one, she says. Which one? Right here. I slam on the brakes and pull over to the rounded curb. I look up at a house that resembles every other house in Enchanted Lakes. A front door that no one uses, the screen door next to the garage open and with rubber slippers and shoes on a rubber mat. We get out of the car and as we walk up the driveway I ask her about Lonnie. So you were friends? Yeah, until last year's party when she locked me outside of the house and I had to sit there all day while everyone laughed inside. She points to a table in the garage. That's another thing about Enchanted Lakes. No one uses their garages for cars. Instead, a garage is used for outdoor dining and extra refrigerators. She thought she was so great. But then I got popular and she got all busted looking and the world turned. Turned? The tables, I say. The tables turned. Mrs. Higgins stands behind the screen door. She opens it and we walk in. I shake her hand and say hello, and because she's still holding the door open, I stand very close to her so that it feels like we're about to kiss or fight. Thank you for coming by, she says pointedly, as though she's giving me a lot by saying this. Of course. I'm so unbelievably tempted to tell her that my wife's in a coma, but I promise from the beginning not to ever use that as an exemption or a victory. She looks at our shoes and I look at her feet and I realize I'm supposed to take off my shoes, something I hate to do. I remove my shoes and stand there in my black socks. One is a darker shade of black than the other. Scotty runs a few steps, then slides along the floor and snaps her gum. I want to tell her to stop chewing the gum. It looks insolent. Mrs. Higgins leads us to the living room and I see a girl who must be Lonnie, sitting cross legged on the couch. She has a white girl, brown fro, bushy and soft and an upturned nose that alludes to her nickname, Lonnie Piggins. You can tell she loves Scotty because her face brightens and she uncrosses her legs and scoots forward. Scotty, I say. Do you have something you want to say to Lonnie? Sorry, Scotty says. It's okay, Lonnie says. Great, I say. Well, it was nice meeting you both. Scotty, Mrs. Higgins says. The things you said were simply evil. I look at my daughter, trying to convey a look that said says, just go with it. I don't know what's going on in your life that has led you to become such a nasty young girl. Hey now, I say. She apologized. Kids are mean. They're mean to show other kids that they shouldn't be messed with, right? She needs to learn to be the same person online as she is in real time, Mrs. Higgins says. I agree. She needs to know not to fight online. It's one of the school's rules. Rules. Do you understand that, Scotty? I get down on my knees so that I'm at eye level with her. Something Esther said she learned from a show about militant nannies. You have to speak to people to their face. Scotty makes exaggerated nods, her chin craning to the sky, then coming down to her chest. She doesn't get it. Mrs. Higgins wears an angry smile that I don't like. She's going to keep doing it, I can tell. No, I say. It will be all right. It's like the time Lonnie locked Scotty out of the house at her birthday party. It was a cruel thing to do, and you probably did it to show off, right? I say to Lonnie. Lonnie nods, then catches herself and remains still. Scotty sat out there the entire day, I say. I didn't know about that, Mrs. Higgins says. You brought me cake, Scotty says. You brought her cake, I repeat. Perhaps Lonnie should be the one to apologize, as it seems this incident was the catalyst for all this. Evil was the word you used. You're dealing with an attorney, lady. I can go on and on, even in mismatched socks. I'm sorry, Lonnie says. Mrs. Higgins stands with her arms drawn tightly across her chest, frustrated by how the world has turned, as Scotty says. I slap my thighs. Good. Terrific. Lonnie, you should come over sometime. Come for a swim or a hike or something. Scrapbook. Okay, Lonnie says. Scotty looks at me and scowls, but I know she'll be appreciative of it. Later, you need friends who make you feel totally superior again. Mrs. Higgins and Lonnie, sorry for the anguish and the tears, hope to see you both again on better terms. Mrs. Higgins turns and walks back to the door. Syl, scotty says. Syl, lonnie says. See you later. I get it. We walk to the screen door and I look at Scotty for clues. Perhaps just when I think I've figured her out, she surprises me with something else while we've dealt with the technicalities of this problem. The problem is that still here, Scotty was cruel and I don't understand it completely. I don't know if it's a symptom of girlhood or a symptom of something much larger. I need to work it, work on some things at home, I say as we put on our shoes. But Esther says you have some class to go to. Voice or something. Voice class sucks, she says. She can take me to the beach, you said. I look around for Mrs. Higgins so we can say goodbye. I kneel down to tie my laces. I'm down here in a sea of shoes. Mrs. Higgins has a lot of sandals with scuffed soles. All of them have short heels the length of half a thumb. What's the point? For some reason I hold a little heel in my hand. Some of Joanie's heels are the length of a hand. If Joanie dies before me, I wonder if I'll ever be with another woman. I can't imagine going through all of the preliminary stuff, the talk, the chatter, the dinners. I'd have to take someone places, explain my history, make jokes, dole out compliments, hold back farts. I'd have to tell her I'm a widower. I'm convinced Joanie would never have an affair. It just seems like too much work. Mrs. Higgins stands over me. I let go of her shoe. She stares at me so fiercely I worry she may kick. Good luck with the sale, she says, and I stand and shake my head. I realize she's not even angry with Scotty for what she did. She's angry with Scotty for who she belongs to. So what happens? She asks. Why do you get all this money again? Do you really want to know? I stand and face her, and she takes a step back. Sure, she says. Dad, scotty whines. I want to go. I clear my throat. Well, I say. My great grandfather was Edward King. His parents were missionaries, but he went in a different direction, became a banker and later the chief financial officer for King Kalakaua. He managed the State of Princess Kakepi, the last direct descendant of King Kamehameha. I stopped talking. Hopefully I've lost her interest, but she raises her eyebrows and waits for me to continue. Should I get my scrapbook and show her? Scotty asks. No, I say. Yes, Mrs. Higgins says. Scotty opens the screen door and walks to the car. Okay, then what happened? Kakepi was supposed to marry her brother, a weird Hawaiian royalty tradition. Yikes. Just when they were about to tie the knot, she had an affair with her stage estate planner, Edward, and they married soon after. Annexation happened soon after too, so marrying a haole businessman was pretty ballsy. Anyway, they had a lot between the two of them, and when another princess died, she left 300,000 acres of Kauai land to Kakepe as well as her estate. The princess died first, Edward got it all. Then Edward set up a Trust in 1920. Ish died and we got it all. Scotty comes back and opens to the first page of the album. She ripped out a few pages from three local history books before I caught her, and she's glued these in, making the album smell like cedar trunks. There's Edward, hollow eyed and serious. He has on knee high boots and his top hat rests on a table behind him. There's Kikipi, which means rebel, her brown and flat chubby face, her bushy brows. Whenever I see her picture I think we would have hit it off. Mrs. Higgins leans down and looks at the pictures. Then she asks, my father died last year, so the trust dissolved and now land rich and cash poor. We, the beneficiaries, are selling off our portfolio to someone. I don't know who yet. And your decision will have a major impact on Hawaii's real estate world, she said says in a tone of mock importance. I figure she's quoting something she read in the paper. It bothers me that everything I just said she probably already knew. I close Scotty's book. Lucky Mrs. Higgins, lucky, Mrs. Higgins says. She opens the screen door. I look over at the empty bench and picnic table and imagine Scotty sitting there alone. It's what I inherited, I I say, like it or not. I'm sorry about your father, she says. Thank you, I say. I wait to see if I can be excused, and when she doesn't say anything more, I start to walk with Scotty to the car. I feel exhausted, as though I've just delivered a sermon, but my speech has put me in the right frame of mind. I'll look through the buyers portfolios with the images of Edward and Kikipi in my head. And then I can stop thinking about it. I feel cold with my mind preoccupied in business when Joanie's lying there on a kind of long and uncomfortable red eye flight. I'm eager to tell Joni about all of this to prove that I was capable without her. And I'll stop there. Okay, so now questions or. All right.

I have a question. I was wondering if you could talk a little bit about the what you're working on now and tell maybe the best story or summarize the best story that's gone into your work on about the experience of being a parent in San Francisco and being around other parents in San Francisco.

Well, I'm working on a collection of stories about parenting in San Francisco. It's sort of like my first two years as a mom, kind of spying on other moms, or not spying, but overhearing conversations and sort of appropriating other people's stories and making them my own. I don't necessarily know if I have a good story. I just have quotes, you know, that I've written down and put into a story context. Do you want me to read an example? Okay. Since there's no questions, like, for example, you know, I'm sure this is very intriguing to you, but at the playground, I always overhear these crazy conversations other mothers are having. And so then I in this one story, how to Party with an Infant, it's basically made up of conversations I've overheard and I I'll just read a few examples to give you an example. In this month's issue of Bay Area Power Moms, we ask our readers how they have fun. How do you work in some me time and still manage to cook, clean and raise your children? You're not 22 anymore, so how do you party now? Our readers respond. Anita Adair, Belvedere we have dinner parties in our newly designed garden, which features manicured European style plantings and Stockholm Guild's damp Swedish rococo chairs with blue velvet seats. At last week's dinner party, my husband thought it would be really funny to get cheap beer, and everyone drank it and said, remember we used to drink this? It was especially humorous because our friends have respectable jobs. One's the DA and one is a state senator. When I was in my twenties, I never thought I'd be drinking beer from a can with a da. And I just think I'm at a good place in my life right now and and that women should embrace and own their 30s and 40s because we can party with Richer people. Devon Astor, Nob Hill Fashion is my passion. My kids can't get in the way of that. I was just praised in the Nob Hill Gazette for my fearless combining of a vintage Dior silk organza jacket and a bubble skirt from Target. I'm known for my whimsical approach for pairing couture with fuchsia tights and micro minis. The thing is, the media can't pin me down and so they keep tracking my fashion moves. One day I'm all Hawaii surfer, plantation owner, the next I'm all ice princess. Most of my closet is vintage or custom made, but I also shop at Helper's Home Bazaar at Ghirardelli Square, which benefits retards. So it's just like things I've overheard. I give it a completely new context. It's sort of mean spirited in a way, but it's fun.

The story about the estate that was inherited, does that have any basis in reality? It seems like it historically was sort of similar to that.

Yeah. It's based on Bishop Estate, which is one of the wealthiest, or it is the wealthiest charitable trust in the nation, I believe. And it was set up by Princess Pauahi in the late 1800s and she married a businessman, a white businessman. And recently that trust just dissolved. So There were about 20 people in Hawaii who inherited all this money and all this land. And so I based my character on one of those beneficiaries.

So that property is still being disposed of.

Yeah.

And it has had a major impact on Hawaiian real estate, I imagine.

Yeah. Yeah. It's had a big effect. And what's ironic about it is that it was set up by the princess to preserve Hawaiian land. And it's ended up becoming quite a corrupt trust, not because of the beneficiaries, but because of the trustees. I was actually just curious how you got the title of the how to Party with an Infant. Is that what it was? Yeah.

Yeah.

Where did that come from?

I don't know. I mean, I just. Where everything comes from, I guess I just thought of was just the title of my story. And then I just decided to call the whole thing that because it's basically what the whole collection is sort of about, I guess. You know, I had my daughter when I was 28, which isn't young, but it's young in San Francisco. And it wasn't. My husband and I didn't plan it necessarily. And so we just felt really young. I mean, our friends were still going to clubs and we didn't have friends who were parents. And I don't know, I'm sure that had some influence on the title.

One of the things that really jumped out at me from the passage was the sort of role that technology played and the kind of cyber speak. And I was wondering if that has come from your own daughter and whether that is a big part of a lot of interactions that you have with your daughter and her friends.

No, because my daughter's not even three yet. But it could be that I was supposed to subconsciously preparing myself. But I love teenagers. I mean, I don't love teenagers, but I just am completely confounded by them. Like, has anyone seen that Show My Sweet 16? About 16 year olds having these extravagant and crazy birthday parties? Anyway, teenage girls scare the hell out of me, especially in this day and age. And so just, I just wanted to write about that, about how they are growing up and about how their parents just must be completely sort of overwhelmed by their world compared to the world they grew up in. I mean, whenever I see like a gaggle of girls walking down the street, they're never interacting with each other. They're looking down at their little face and like talking to other friends. It's like, why don't you be with these friends? I don't know. I feel so old when I talk about it. Kids these days.

So I have a question about your writing discipline. You're part of a collective, is that right?

Well, I work at the Grotto, which is an office space in downtown, and there's about 30 writers there. We each have our own office in a building.

And so you go there and sort of keep your own office hours. And that forces you to be diligent and put in the hours per day to get your writing done. And that's how you need to get it done. Like, some people can function in a Starbucks or whatever, but for others, there's too many distractions.

Yeah, I mean, I go in there just twice a week and then I write from home. I can write from home just as.

With a two year old.

Well, during her naps. Okay.

And then on the parenting stuff, have you found. It seems like there's such a different sort of parenting vibe in San Francisco than so many other places. Like there's a level of snobbery that you don't run into in a lot of cities. I have two year old twins and it's just insane what I see on the parent email lists. Have you found a more normal sort of parenting philosophy, traveling on book tours and stuff like that in other cities?

No, I Mean, I love that it's snobby and weird because then I wouldn't have anything to write about if it was normal. But I mean, I found friends in San Francisco, I mean really good friends who I never thought I would be friends with at the same time. And so people are multifaceted. You know, they may have this one side that's very annoying and they have their makeup brush consultants or whatever, but then they have other things to offer too. And the one thing you have in common is that you all just care about your kids. So I guess I find that in common. Thanks.

Cowie. The lead character is really striking and just curious about the process of making a character who must be a composite of. Of not only men you've known particularly. I was thinking about how he seems sort of dumped into this situation with two kids and dealing with his wife's and like he's almost just woken up into a world he's really not familiar with.

Yeah.

And whether you find yourself not only making composites of middle aged men that you know, but also do you bring in pieces of other characters such as women and children and so forth to make this person seem genuine? And how do you do that? What is your test for authenticity or for realness of the character?

Yeah, I mean, I don't think I do anything consciously. I don't think I think of this man and this man and what composite I'm going to make. In the end, it's my voice too. So I'm doing both like a role play. And I'm also using my own sensibility. And because he's a man, I don't think it's different. I think it's just as hard. It would be just as hard for me to jump into the skin of an 18 year old girl or a person my age. It's just as big of a leap. So. So I don't think I sit down and even think about trying to be authentic. I just write just as when a curtain goes up, you just play the role. My husband is my reader. He's my only reader and he's a man. And so he's usually my test of authenticity. I run a lot by him. Yeah.

Other questions. If there aren't any other questions. I have one. Could you end by reading the rest of how to Party with an Infant?

I don't have the whole thing. I just brought like a few passages.

Well, whatever you have.

Okay, let's see. I have, see I have this recurring character, but I'd have to do the whole thing okay, I'll just read a few. Megan J. Golden Gate Heights. Every Friday, my husband and I order Thai food from Thai palace too. We call it Thai Day Friday. We make ourselves order something different each time. Sometimes we will make love using a position we call Thai Me up. It's really just missionary position, but it's fun to say and it's important to keep consistent when you're raising children. I'm not really attracted to my husband anymore, but eating the Thai food is fun and. And so I think about green curry and prawns with chili paste when he's on top of me. And also if I squint my eyes, he kind of looks like Elliot Spitzer. So that helps. It helps a lot. Tammy Dern to Buran for fun, I exfoliate. I take a long shower and tell the kids that mommy is not to be interrupted. I don't use exclusive exfoliants from drugstores. I use sophisticated scents with ingredients like brown cane sugar, Malaysian citrus, fennel, seaweed and basil. My husband says I smell like a pizza, but he has a poor nose because he doesn't come from a good family. And then I have this character who like here, I'll read her first one. Karen pound Cole Valley. My girlfriends and I have mani pedi parties. We reserve the salon, pop the champagne and get the full treatment. And then she comes in later. I wrote about having mani pedi parties, but the truth is they're annoying. The Koreans are so rough. It's like they want to hurt you. And they're always yapping away and I know they're talking about my sweaty hands. And then she comes in later. A mani patty party has to be the lamest thing I've ever heard of. And I can't believe I said and that I'm actually writing to and reading this goddamn magazine. For fun, I smoke a fatty and watch Tommy Lee Goes to College. Alright bitches. For fun. I used to blast music and drive, but now my daughter can say and understand too much. So I can't play rap. So there goes that. Can't even listen to music anymore. Just nursery rhymes from here on out. Which aren't entirely appropriate either. They're all about cocks and pussies who fall down Wells. And then she comes in. I mean, what's the point in getting a manicure when you've got enough skin on your stomach to make drums for an African tribe and your breasts look the same as Ted Kennedy's? You reminded me that I'm not 22 anymore. No kidding. At 22. I was going to bars and rubbing up against strangers. Erections on the dance floor. Sorry. I was snorting coke off of toilet lids. I was swigging straight gin like it was Juicy Juice. 100% juice. You can get it at Whole Foods. It beat a manicure, that's for damn sure. That's all I have. But basically it's just these other women and this. And this woman, Karen or Karen Pound, comes. Keeps coming out throughout the story, and it ends with her having this, I don't know, epiphany or something like that. Okay, thank you, guys.