Dear Susan,
You are now two events into your tour. You have given a heartfelt talk called “Five Bandannas and a Barf Bag” about your jean jumpsuit and multiple bandanna Duran Duran phase (the one that ends with you throwing up all over your friend’s car and getting the nickname “The Hurler” for much of Grade 10). I don’t think it’s necessary for you to dwell on the fact that Jaclyn Moriarty’s charming and witty talk about her dog made it clear that, at least on the subject of “fitting in and standing out”, the animal was considerably smarter than you. (A word to the wise: you may want to consider giving that talk an early retirement.)
Also, please don’t keep telling everyone you meet in awed tones that there is a bidet in your room and you “have no idea how to use it.” I’m not trying to be rude, but that is not a good opening conversational gambit. The other writers don’t care. They are busy thinking about how they just won/lost the Booker/Giller/Orange Prize and have no room left for contemplating the wonders of your hotel bathroom. A sophisticated front: that’s what you’re going for here.
Okay, I’ll talk to you soon. I just need to go and apologize to the housekeeper for the mess you made when you tried to stuff your Chinese food leftovers into the minibar fridge. Nothing like General Tao’s chicken to stink up a room!
Love,
Your Handler, Xena