Somebody has got to teach me how to talk to the press.

While wasting time this morning (that would be after accidentally sleeping in until 10:30), I decided to Google my name. Go ahead and do it yourself now. I’ll wait.

Isn’t pretty, is it? Something must be done about my raging case of verbal diarrhea.

As a Master of Science in Print Journalism (yes I am a scientist, I am laughing too), I know that I am a reporter’s dream come true. You barely have to nudge me before I start in with all the gossip and snarky commentary. If you listen closely, you can almost hear my id screaming, “LET ‘ER RIP!!!!”

And the more a cappella grows in popularity, the more the media is calling, from tiny school newspapers to NBC Sports (yes, a cappella is now apparently a sport. I am a scientist and an athlete!). A book about college a cappella is coming out this summer, and I’m almost afraid to see what I have to say.

Sorry, you really are going to have to look it up yourself, because I’m not linking to any of this. Somewhere between babbling about myself to the press and giving college students around the world my personal cell phone number and home address, I have established a teensy modicum of privacy from my professional life on this here weblog. I’m not giving it up that easily.

I will be happy this summer to acquire a new, more common surname. I may even go whole hog and become Amanda Smith. Or Amanda Johnson.

Because with the adoption of Rob’s last name, the entire aca-mmunity will know that we are a successful product of an aca-romance. I’m pretty sure they’ll feel personally slighted that he didn’t propose on stage at Lincoln Center.

And I guess that answers your question as to whether or not our own college a cappella group will be singing in our wedding ceremony. I love them and all, but our lives are already too full of aca. That, and the airfare to Hawaii was just too expensive.

I’m rambling again. Verbal diarrhea! I told you!