The Backstory to Tomorrow's Blog or "It Sucked and Then I Cried" Part 3A

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"Mom could you, please, babysit on April 1st, so we can go see Dooce in San Francisco?" I beg my Mom. "Then I can write a blog, and become the famous writer, you always knew I'd be, please."

I always throw in the famous writer bit when I really need her to babysit. It's an easy way to say, "Yes Mom, of course, you're right." And when she's right, she is usually more willing to help. Plus, I love the sound of it.

Before she agrees to babysit she asks, "is she the one you were so excited was following you on Twitter?"

"Mom, you're embarrassing me in front of the whole world wide web!" Only a parent can do that, I think?

Oh well, I might as well tell you the story now, since you're probably all ears. For a few hours of my life, I thought Heather Armstrong, the most popular personal blogger in the world, was following me on Twitter.

At that time, she was only following 60 people, but had over 100,000 followers. And I thought, "Wow, I'm one of the 60 people she is following. I must be very, very, very special."

I know that's enough verys to give nearly anyone an allergic reaction, that would include, but not be limited to, nausea.

I am so excited, I phone and text all my friends the good news, "Dooce is following me on twitter."

Most of them asked, "what's twitter?" Some of them thought she was following my blog, but couldn't find her in my blog followers list. While others were like, "What's Dooce?" Ah, technology can be so confusing.

Within a few hours, or at least by the next day, I realize dooce is not following me, I'm just following her. Love, some times, is a one way street.

Later, I had to phone and text every one I had notified "oh, it's just me following her. Nevermind."

Twitter is confusing. See, I got all mixed up by the followers and following. Twitter is, also, very disappointing. At least, I didn't announce it on the blog. Then, anyways.

So there you have it! My humiliating "dooce is following me on twitter, hold please, fail!" story.

Now, my Mom is pretty technical and happened to be at my house when I was googling the San Francisco bookstore for directions to Dooce's book signing. (I no longer recommend google directions, got nothing against their maps, though).

"What's the address?" asks my Mom.

"301 Castro Street, Mountain View," I say.

"Mountain View?" says my Mom. "Mountain View is not San Francisco."

"Mom, I know Mountain View isn't San Francisco," I say. "Her website says San Francisco, and the address underneath it says Mountain View."

I knew right then exactly what my Mom was thinking. The tape playing in her head went something like this, "This is a trick! She's mixing up San Francisco with Mountain View because it's all a lie! She's making up the whole Dooce book signing thing, and she's really going surfing in Mountain View!"

Fortunately, we were looking at a map of Mountain View so my Mom realizes, "Wait, she can't surf in Mountain View!"

And if I wasn't making it up, she was still worried that I was going to the wrong bookstore The one that wasn't in San Francisco. Therefore, I would never be famous. Then she would be wrong. Now she was having second thoughts about babysitting at all.

My Mom always thinks I'm trying to trick her, when, in fact, I'm only trying to trick her some of the time. And this wasn't one of those times.

Fortunately, she believed me and covered her babysitting shift like a good Nana.

Note: This is a bit of a backstory to tomorrow's blog where Heather Armstrong of dooce.com will actually be quoted. Say it with me y'all, Jesus Amen!