What are you doing tomorrow night?

Answer: you are coming to Brooklyn, to see me.

Also some other people.

No, but seriously. Tomorrow night at 5:30 p.m. I will be at Soda Bar with Heather, Doug, Sarah, and Greg. (Scott, aka Pretty Rambo, will be there as well.) We will be there to sign copies of Things I Learned About My Dad (In Therapy), which you might notice over there in the right-hand column.(If you like you can BUY A COPY AND THEN WRITE SOMETHING NICE ON AMAZON. No pressure. Do it. Doitdoitdoit.)

And that's not all! After the Soda Bar festivities, we will be moseying a few blocks away to Cringe, the monthly reading hosted by Ms. Sarah Brown. Supposedly I will be reading something at this event. It seems incredible to me that I will be able to scrape myself off the ground and shower by tomorrow, much less get to Brooklyn, much less talk to people and write my name on things and then get up in front of friends and strangers and read my pre-teen tribute to Billy Joel. But I have promised, and at least I'll be able to have a drink, or four.

Isn't it nice when someone tells you what you're doing? All that confusion about what's to come—all of it has been washed away. It's all so clear, now. Brooklyn, you, me. See you there.