This is a conversation that started between my husband and I and ended between my 17-year-old daughter and I. Which is odd because normally a handful of other kids would've also jumped into the mix and by the end no one would've known what the hell was going on. This was exceptional.
me: (this picks up in the middle of what my husband and I had assumed was a private conversation, only apparently it wasn't...don't worry about what we were talking about. I have no idea) ...So, I told them that I could be considered a ghostwriter, I guess.
daughter: (looking at me with shock and awe) You're a Ghostwriter?
me: (looking at her and feeling very proud peacockish) yeah. Some would consider my work for the Kindle Book Review, ghostwriting.
daughter: Really? Like the movie!?!
me: (confused with head tilt) HUH? (then Nicholas Cage open-hand smacked me right across the face and I remembered his ridiculous movie.) Ohhhh...No. -Well, not really. Kind of. Only my face doesn't turn into a skeleton, my skull doesn't catch on fire, and I don't race around on a motorcycle killing people. But other than that, we're totally similar. In that we're both bad asses.
daughter: (confused with head tilt) huh?
me: ghostWRITER! Not ghostRIDER. Because remember? I am a writer. I am also your mother and not a ghost.
daughter: (looking down flipping through her magazine and shaking her head) Well, you should definitely be more specific about your career. You'll give people the wrong impression.
At this point she looked at me exactly the same way the 110-yr-old man who had attempted to go through the round-a-bout the wrong way looked at me when I had to slam on my brakes nearly impaling myself on the steering wheel in order to avoid hitting his 1985 Buick Riviera. Like somehow I was the breaking the rule of not knowing that today was obviously "go the wrong way thru the round-a-bout day." Sorry. You're right. Clearly, I'm the wack-job here. And apparently it would be commonplace for someone to mistakenly assume that what I mean by 'ghostwriter' is that I am really a ghost riding around on a motorcycle with my head on fire hunting people down. I will certainly try to be more clear in the future.
Follow this wack-job on twitter at @highdysfunction