Dear Jen Lancaster,
This is my very sad attempt to get you to come to Kansas City, Missouri on your next book tour. Or the Kansas side, but I recommend the Missouri side because I won’t have to drive as far. But our friends at Rainy Day Books host a lot of author events and I will drive for you. (but not to St. Louis because I-70 kind of sucks.)
- We’re better than St. Louis (which you’ve visited)
- We have lots of smoked, BBQ meats. (Some of them in gas stations. gas station meat – isn’t that alluring?)
- We have me and my BFF, Tammi and we did not win the Stennifer BFF contest. *frown*
- I might have to pull a John C. Mayer on you until you get me banned in Google. (Ask William A. Shatner how it feels.)
- We have a lot of delicious cupcakes.
I’d like to see you in person so I know that you really do exist. Just like Santa Claus and Giant Talking M&Ms. And I want proof because I want empirical evidence that there is a chance in Hell that a Midwestern girl can write her way to never having to apologize for cat puke, bad jokes, whining, and a preoccupation with her hair- that in fact, instead of apologizing, she will entertain (and not weird out) anyone who happens to read her blog.
So, I’m taking a page out of your book (ha! should I say pages?) and writing you a letter. (and I’ll keep writing)
Katie Leas, not a creepy fan