Cat Fight Part Deux - Meow!! Scratch!!
A couple days ago I wrote about a pathetic freelance writer, in Canada, who criticized me in a city newspaper for working and having a nanny. You can look at the post below called, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
It just keeps getting better and better. Or more pathetic. I'm not sure which.
I had all but forgotten about the freelancer whose name I've forgotten. Linda..Lydia..Nitpick....littlepick...littleprick. Whatever.
In fact, last night I was at a charity dinner, sitting beside an olympic gold medalist, having a grand ole time. I just love Olympians. To me, they are idols.
Whenever I get to meet one, I just smile and smile and smile. And I asked this Gold Medal winner important questions too, like, "How did your wife react when she saw you win?" (She bawled.) And, "Who are you rooting for on American Idol?" (He had the McFever.)
Then, this morning, I took The Dictator to her music class, and we had a grand ole time. (Because, yes, people with nannies still do take their children to class.)
I turned on my e-mail, only to find requests to be interviewed on television and radio. Oh-my-god-isn't-that-so-cool?
Ahhhh, I love when the true colors of people really come out. I knew it was just a matter of time before this dear Freelancer Writer's true motivation came through. I knew it would. The gal doesn't have an original bone in her body, so it's no surprise.
It turns out Freelance Writer has been telling all the producers she knows about her little spat with me. Because everyone loves a good cat fight, the producers would like me to go on air with her to debate the whole stay-at-home vs. working mother thing.
(The problem is, unlike Freelancer, I don't care what women choose to do. As long as they're happy with their choice, I'm happy for them.)
In fact, it was little nitpick whatever her name is, suggesting that this debate continue on radio and television.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
You want to step outside Freelancer? You want a piece of me? Oooh, I'm so scared. Actually, she could probably sit on me and I'd die.
(Plus, I'm more of a make love not war person...anyhoo.)
Of course I wrote back to the producers (some of whose shows I do listen to and watch) that even if they paid me a million dollars I wouldn't go on air with Freelance Writer whatever-her-name is.
Unlike you dear Freelance Writer, I don't need the publicity. Unlike you, I don't have to go to the media to prove myself. Why?
Because, unlike you, I am completely comfortable with my choice to have a nanny and go to work. I don't have to sell my side of the argument.
(So why do I blog about it? Because it's my blog and people can come visit or not. It's their choice. I haven't gone out begging people to read me, unlike you dear freelancer who is out begging to get some air-time...with me. Oh, by the way, HI FREELANCER!! I know you're here!)
I find it hilarious that this Freelance Writer, who professes that she's such a hands-on mother, not only has enough time to check her e-mail five thousand times a day (Are you feeling a little disconnected all there by yourself?) but also has enough time to tell anyone who will listen about her spat with me.
And then beg them to ask me on air with her and then find the time to do these shows. So, what you're saying Freelance Writer, is that it's not okay to work, but it's ok to go on television and radio shows? Pathetic.
Dear Freelancer, I like going on television. I love radio. But, sorry, no. You'll have to find another wagon to hitch your star to. (Or is that hitch your wagon to another star? Whatever. Stop using my name to get publicity, is what I'm trying to say.)
You see, unlike you, Dear Freelancer, I'm actually living my life, supporting worthwile charities, and meeting actual people who work hard for the pride of their country. Oh, and spending time with my child.
I will never go on air with you. Ever.
I know this is probably the most exciting thing that has ever happened to you. But I have to go wash my hair.