Climb for Hospice

*DanceDanceDancityDanceDance*

So, as I was moping my way through the ice cream aisle at Save-On last night, I thought I’d take a swing by the magazine rack to see what’s new and who’s being used. As I sifted through the colourful bitchfest periodicals and suppressed the urge to compare my thighs with Giselle Bundchen’s (yet again), I noticed that the August 2010 Vanity Fair (VF) was out!  As some of you may recall, I may have possibly, slightly, mentally over-milked a brief brush with fame when I had a single sentence from a Letter to the Editor published in VF some months ago.

Anyhoooo… I went wading through the magazines (seriously, how many dog magazines does a society need?!), and found myself staring into the eyes of Angelina Jolie as I found VF. I deftly avoided her crazy-lady eyes and was able to suppress a lesbian-esque urge to ogle her boobies as I picked the magazine up and began thumbing through to the Letters page.

I was stopped by an advertisement for shoes, but only briefly. I swung past Graydon Carter’s Editor’s Note, and tore past the Contributors page. I went back and stared at that shoe advertisement for a bit. But THEN I carried on, forged ahead to the Letters page and there, staring back at me, was my name.

MY name. My letter HAS been published in Vanity Fair, and it’s actually like, a whole paragraph long! I’ve graduated from single sentence fame to multiple, flowing creative passage fame! I really must not let this go to my head. Don’t worry, I’ll remember you all… yes, all you little people will still hold a place in my heart as I am whisked from party to fabulous party, being showered with Harry Winston diamonds and Lauren couture.  Man. This is going to be SO cool…

I’m climbing the World’s Highest Free-Standing Equatorial mountain. One of the Seven Summits. The highest peak on the African continent. I’ll be able to see the curvature of the earth from the summit! But having a small letter, some wee brainlets of mine copied into my favourite  magazine… well, I dare say that I’m standing pretty tall without the mountain today.

One of my favourite authors is Christopher Hitchens. He’s just put out his memoir Hitch 22, and I’m really looking forward to reading it.  He’s doing a book tour right now, and I went to his website to see if his tour swings my way at all. Sadly, I came across this… *sigh*

I first read Hitch’s work in Vanity Fair magazine. I loved him immediately. He is SUCH an asshole. No holds barred, straight up, in your face, jerk. I appreciated his candor and wit-wrapped intelligence. His barbed honesty being at once refreshing and shocking.

In December 2009, I had a small Letter to The Editor published in Vanity Fair, and when the magazine arrived in my mailbox, the first thing I did was to see if Hitch had an article in that particular edition (he didn’t), because the thought of being “published” in the same periodical as Hitch was just mind-blowing to me. I mean, they like Hitch! That means that if they like ME, then my writing is in the same league as Hitch’s, right? RIGHT??

…yah, I know. I just had a nice delusional moment there.

Anyway, on this rainy Canada Day I’d like to wish you well, Mr. Hitchens.  To my favourite water boarded, made-over, bravely incendiary, unapologetic Atheist author and realist… speedy recovery, sir.

I’m off to hike a mountain…