Ain't No Shame In My Game
We don't all get to be Tom Hanks. Some of us are Peter Scolari. We don't all get to be Ryan Seacrest. Some of us are Brian Dunkleman. We don't all get to be Mary Richards. Some of us are Rhoda Morgenstern. We don't all get to be Marcia Brady. Some of us are Jan Brady. We don't all get to be Ginger. Some of us are Mary Ann. We don't all get to be Half Pint. Some of us are Nellie Olsen. In other words, sometimes ya just have to be content playing second fiddle.
I'm more than content. I'm ecstatic, and I'm headed to Dayton, Ohio in three hours to play my heart out for four fun-filled days and three depraved nights. I'm going to the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop where I'll pick up an honorable mention certificate in the global human interest essay category. You can read the essay by clicking here.
I figure it's better to have an honorable mention than no mention. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. Of course, I also tell myself there's nothing wrong with eating an entire sleeve of Thin Mints in less than ten minutes.
I'm a little concerned because apparently the weather is bad in Ohio. I'm dismayed at this news since all I've packed is my swimsuit and nine pairs of sandals. Oh well, it will be worth freezing to death for this fantastic opportunity to learn and laugh and make new friends and drink all the drinks and eat all the cakes.
Plus, I'll pick up my certificate which I will proudly display on the Wall of Dana. Gaylord Focker ain't got nothin' on me.