For the past six months or so, I have been petitioning my local newspaper. Â I want them to do one or more of the following:
1. Â Profile my blog in an article.
2. Â Add me to the newspaper’s website blogroll.
3. Â Hire me as a freelance writer. Â I’ve even offered to write for free.
I thought it would be great exposure for my blog and in return I thought that I could help attract the demographic of readers who are no longer reading the newspaper – young, working professionals who read it online now. Â I’ve been pretty shameless. Â (i.e. “Dear Newspaper Editor Gods, please let me be a part of your world. Â I’ll even clean your coffee cups.”)
To my excitement, I received an email from a writer at the paper today! Â I was ecstatic. Â Completely beside myself. Â I was being discovered! Â This was my big break! Â My blog would be picked up by the paper and the next step would be a million dollar book deal.
The writer introduced himself and said that he had really been enjoying my blog (good, good). Â He said congrats on the new baby (good, good). Â And he said they wanted to do an article (good, good)…
ON THE MAN CAVE. (wait, what?)
And could I please put the writer in touch WITH MY HUSBAND? Â (WHAT?!?!?!)
They want to interview and photograph Chris for a Feature’s article on him and his Man Cave that will run on Father’s Day.
That’s right, boys and girls. Â While I have been slaving away at this computer trying desperately to be discovered so that I don’t have to go back to work after my maternity leave, it is, in fact, my freaking husband who is more interesting to people.
And don’t get me started on that stupid Man Cave. Â That stupid, stupid Man Cave that smells like cat pee.
I should have known. Â I should have freaking known. Â Chris has always been cooler than me. Â Always. Â And just when I finally find my little niche in the corner of the blogosphere, he’s STILL the cool one. Â People ask me all the time for marriage advice. Â I usually say something stupid like, “Marry your best friend,” or “Marry someone you can’t live without.” Â That’s all crap. Â Here is the official Marriage Confessions statement of how to choose a husband:
NEVER MARRY SOMEONE COOLER THAN YOU!
Just don’t do it. Â You’re in for a lifetime of laying the groundwork for the cool person to become even cooler. Â It will drive you crazy, I tell you. Â Crazy. Â And you’ll become this crazy, blogging person with the cool husband.
And I came to the realization this morning that my son. Â My own son. Â My son who has been living out of my womb for 11 days, is cooler than me, too. Â The kid was born with a mohawk, for God’s sake.
So now, I will not only have a cooler husband but a cooler son, too. Â Great. Â I’ll be the mom who wears track suits and chases everyone around yelling, “TRY MY LEMON SQUARES! Â TRY MY LEMON SQUARES!” while my husband and son are off together at some cool people convention that I didn’t get an invitation to.
All of this because of my local newspaper. Â And that stupid freaking Man Cave.