When I went on my book tour, my publicist gave the local media and radio stations a list of acceptable prep questions. They were ready, and so was I. Most of the interviewers tossed the page into the office shredder, but at least they hovered in the general direction of respectful.

Of course there were a couple of cancer faux pas frontiersmen who opened mouth and inserted foot or cheap high heel. Example: When I showed up for one early show, the host treated me like I had the plague. I fake-sneezed in her direction just to make myself chuckle. Then I asked her to give me the heads-up on what questions she would be asking me. The wench flat-out said no. Huh? Didn’t she want the interview to go smoothly? It wasn’t like I was asking her to cheat on her SATs.

The crew miked me up, and as the cameras rolled I began to sink in horror as she looked straight down the barrel of the lens with a tragic, car-crash look on her face. “Wow, we’re here with Kris Carr, the author and filmmaker who bravely recorded her tragic life and possible death. Good morning, Kris, how are you feeling, dear?” I wanted to stab her in the eye with a shrimp fork, to foam and cuss. I wanted to light her hair on fire with a can of Aqua Net and a Bic lighter. Was she raised in a barn?

DID SHE HAVE A MOTHER WHO TAUGHT HER MANNERS? YOU KNOW, LIKE ELBOWS OFF THE TABLE, SAY PLEASE AND THANK YOU, AND DON’T HARASS THE CANCER CHICK?

I was trapped. Coifed and camera-ready as they zoomed in on my victim close-up. I felt humiliated for catching cancer and for “bravely” sharing my story with the world.

Just then, my sass kicked in. Oh no, not today, Suzie. You are messin’ with the wrong babe—and I can play dirty, too. “Wow, that was pretty fucking dramatic for 5 a.m. don’t ya think? Good morning, City X, how’s it hanging?” Okay, so I didn’t say fucking OR how’s it hanging because I was afraid my publishers would tan my hide and they spent a lot of money sending me on the bus-and-truck cancer tour. But damn, I wanted to!

You, too, might get blindsided, but more than likely these incidents will be few and far between. Humor helps tremendously. So do lies! Sometimes when I just don’t feel like telling people my story, I pretend that I write about bees. Or that I make porn. That always shuts them up.