Tag Archives: blogging

Getting a Busy Signal

I’ve recently rediscovered my love for reading books. My love of reading isn’t anything new, but allowing myself unlimited “free” time to sit on the deck to read whenever I can instead of trying to do a million other things instead is.

It’s no longer a guilty pleasure, but rather simply a pleasure.

It’s a relative shift in thinking for me. I used to feel guilty, like I should be spending that time doing something work or blog-related that would garner an external result of some sort.

Why?

Because almost everyone I know is busy. They feel anxious and guilty when they aren’t working or doing something to promote their work. Bloggers talk about “taking things to the next level,” working on widgets, book signings, business cards, spending hours on various social networks, reading, writing, commenting, sharing, creating new tabs for their blogs, etc.

If that’s your job, that makes sense, but I just can’t keep up. And to be honest, I really don’t want to.

My job has me in front of a computer all day. I don’t love it, but it pays the bills, I work my butt off and I’m lucky I have it. And while I love blogging most of the time, it isn’t my job and I know that I’ll never be “big.” I know that as hard as I work, I’ll most likely never “make it to the next level” without devoting hours to doing the things that I’ve mentioned above.

Now don’t get me wrong…

I’m a very hard worker and would spend a million hours working towards “making it” if I thought doing all of those things was the key, but I’m not sure that it is. Why? Talent only gets you so far. There is only one Bloggess, and the market for those looking to recreate that magic is diluted with writers that have time and money to spend in an effort to build up their brand.

I do not.

What I do have are decent ideas, a couple books that barely paid for themselves, a laptop I have basic knowledge of and a fairly constant insecurity that a) what I do isn’t good enough b) confusion over what does become “popular” and c) a desire to hang it all up and let everyone else duke it out.

Because, oh yeah, there’s that whole depression/OCD thing to add in there, too.

And unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury to pick and choose when and where I work. Some days are great, and other days leaving the house simply sounds like hard work—but I have no choice.

What I tend to forget is that I do have in choice in how I spend the rest of my time. And sometimes I get caught up in the hype and forget I’m not the girl who is comfortable promoting herself or trying to appeal to a sponsor or some “higher up.”

I’m the girl who rambles and has her head in a book (when it’s not up her ass) and the game on TV with some snacks. I write because I want to share things, not because I need to have those things shared.

So I guess it’s a conscious decision to choose time and simple pleasures over the pursuit of  “more, more, more.” It’s a decision to always work hard and look for new opportunities, but to be content with where I am, whether it’s on the deck with a book or on Twitter spewing one-liners.

It’s remembering that the best investment of my limited time is to spend it doing the things that I want when I can and ignoring the things that might chip away at that contentment.

True, I might miss “making it to the next level,” but I won’t miss feeling like I’ve missed the moments worth writing about. And if I plan things right, I also won’t miss the ballgame.

Like the blog? Buy the books.

That’s What Friends are For

This is a little embarrassing to admit, but I don’t really have a best friend.

Growing up I had a few close girlfriends, but being stuck in school with hundreds of other people my age made that easy. You were pretty much forced to hang out and things like work and adult responsibilities never got in the way.

Fast-forward a decade or two, add in a heap of depression/isolation, less exposure to people my age and those pesky adult responsibilities, and friends became less of a thing. This is my fault—no excuses—and most of the time I’m okay with all that.

But then there are times when I’m not.

And it’s those times that I maintain that blogging has saved my life a million times over. I try to steer the direction of this blog away from “serious” things now—this will resume my next post—but there was a time when it served a much differentpurpose. Instead of staying inside my head—not always a safe place to be—I  allowed myself to be honest and vulnerable at times and created some of the strongest personal connections I’ve ever had.

That brings me to my point 200 words later.

 

I admit that for a long time I was embarrassed about the fact that I had so many close online friendships. I would differentiate between “online friends” and “friends” when talking with people, but then I thought, what the hell?

After all, we now live in a time when we have the opportunity to choose the people we want to surround us not by location or luck, but by similar interests, senses of humor, struggles and successes.

So much goes on behind the scenes of a blog or a website that never goes public—a sick child or spouse, a lost job, a mental breakdown that leaves you panicked and impulsively searching for any way to self-destruct (hypothetically speaking, of course.) But there are people online to remind you that even if you’re physically sitting alone, you never have to feel lonely.

If that’s not a friend, then what is?

And just because the people who “get” you might not be the people you see all that much, that doesn’t make the friendship less real.

 

True, the fact that I  feel like everyone who “gets” me lives thousands of miles away bums me out sometimes. But even though we might be spread wide geographically, I’m still closer to them than anyone I went to school with—by about a million miles.

They support. They entertain. They listen. They can talk you off the ledge that you’re on, knowing they’ve stood there before.

Because after all, that’s what friends are for.

Like the blog? Buy the books.

Added Value

I’ve heard it said that in order to “build your brand” and become a bighugeimportantblogger that you should always make sure that your readers are given every opportunity to know about every minute thing that you’ve ever done in your Internet life.

So even though I’m a tiny little peon in the blogging world, I figured it was verysuperimportant that I send out a newsletter to my loyal readers (Hi, Mom!) In it you will find a recap of things that happened “behind the scenes”—added value!


  • First we’ll take a look at the minutes recorded from the first executive “Abby Has Issues” post planning and self-promotional tour meeting. What’s that? I’m being told we neither recorded minutes nor held that meeting, so we can cross that one off the list!
  • Speaking of lists, it was proposed that changing a “to-do” list to a “suggestions to be considered” list could leave one feeling more optimistic. This was immediately approved and implemented.
  • There was an unfortunate incident involving the vacuum and a cat toy. Long story short, I’m not winning “Cat Mom of the Year.” In an effort to reverse any bad karma, I spent the better part of that night leaving inspirational notes around for the cat: “You WILL catch that red dot” and “Hairballs happen to everyone!”
  • There was also trauma when I found a pile of feathers under my feeder when I got home from work. Let this be a reminder to hug your wild birds a little bit tighter tonight.
  • An ethnic cooking demonstration was given in the kitchen, if by “ethnic” you mean “Cajun” and by “Cajun” you mean “burned.”On a related note, the smoke detector is in perfect working condition.
  • An evaluation of laundry on Sunday revealed another pretty big week for gray T-shirts and white sports socks, so keep up the good work!
  • In terms of relationship status, the last two things I’ve spooned were a pillow and a jar of sunflower seed butter. However, Hot Gym Guy, obviously smitten by the smell of garlic emanating from my pores, asked me if I, “was done with that bench.” I might be reading a bit too much into it, but I’m sending out wedding invitations next week.
  • Oh, and I also overheard a 20-year-old girl at the gym say, “I feel so old!” The crime scene is still under investigation, so if anyone asks I was here the whole time.
  • Things did perk up though when I saw a guy pushing a “pull” door several times. Instead of helping him, I said, “Never give up. Don’t let anyone tell you how to live.” He was quite an inspiration.
  • I celebrated a birthday and capped off the evening by going to the grocery store, because hey! It was my birthday! And because it was Thursday. I always go to the store on Thursday.
  • On the work front, it was business as usual. I made it until lunch every day without eating my lunch before lunch, so I would consider this week to have been a success.
  • However, my attempts to “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have” were frowned upon. Apparently showing up in a tiara and tutu isn’t quite what they meant. The policy has since been changed.

I think that pretty much sums things up—at least the most important points—so stay tuned for future updates! After all, you don’t want to miss a thing!

Like the blog?  “Buy the Books”

(I updated the tab to include the new best-seller, a book I’m totally mooching off the success of the other authors with. Thanks to everyone for their support!)

You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth

I originally had a different post planned for today, but that will have to wait a couple of days.

Why, you ask?

Because instead I have a very cool thing to tell you about that I didn’t know I could tell you about already. I’ve been keeping it all to myself, much like my stash of hummus and emotional availability, but it’s being released today so I can tell you and that’s what you’re getting today.

FrontCOVER_forKINDLE I’m part of another super funny book!

You can read the details about it here, but here’s the description from Amazon to pique your interest:

“Thank God for girlfriends and shared visits to powder rooms! That’s always been the concept behind our website InThePowderRoom.com where we’ve been entertaining women with our humor and bold, brave honesty since 2009. Now we’re taking it to the next level with an anthology of original short stories from some of the wittiest women writers we know—stories they would only tell their closest friends, most likely from within the haven of a ladies’ room.

Inside you’ll find 39 (mostly) true tales by women, for women, about being women—bodily changes, relationships, careers, motherhood, aging, illness, and more—written with the humor and grit that proudly sets In The Powder Room apart. But be forewarned: we’re holding nothing back. We’re revealing our deep dark secrets—because it’s through our most vulnerable and honest moments that we forge the strongest connections and discover we aren’t so alone after all.

You have a gimpy boob? Me too. You think glitter is the herpes of the craft world? Me too! You got your fishnet-clad leg stuck to your head on stage in front of thousands of people? Wait…what? OMG. Tell me everything! We are your friends, sisters, mothers, and daughters. Regardless of what life has dished up for you, chances are, we’ve been there and we can relate. We’ll help you laugh it off, or hold your hand until you’re ready to laugh again. And we promise: we’ll always tell you when you have lipstick on your teeth.”

To be honest, I’m really not sure why I’m part of it. Now I’m not being humble or anything, but I don’t even own a tube of lipstick and only have one “real” bra that fits that I wear out of social convention and not physical necessity.

In other words, I’m not a girly-girl.

Wait. Now that I think about it, maybe they only invited me to make themselves look a bit better. Like how I always feel really super pretty when I walk out of Wal-Mart given the fact that I have all my teeth and only one chin.

Oh well.

Even if I’m there just to balance things out, the point is that I’m in this book with a group of talented, hilarious women and you need to go check it out. I can’t promise that you’ll feel pretty, but I can promise that you will laugh—probably at our expense.

Like the blog? Buy the books!

Better than BlogHer, right?

This week thousands of bloggers are in Chicago attending BlogHer13, one of the biggest blogging conferences in the country. Bloggers will check out seminars, network, collect 1,264 business cards and make connections and memories with good companies and even better friends.

Blah, blah, blah.

Obviously I’m not there, mostly because:

a) I’m a peon in the blogging world who had no ads on her blog or “sponsors.”

b) I don’t have kids—apparently there is a “lactation” lounge—which would make me unappealing to said sponsors.

c) Self-promotion isn’t something I enjoy, and that’s 99 percent of this thing.

d) I would have to leave my house.

e) I don’t even like to travel for work—the thing I actually get paid to do—so the thought of spending $1,000 on a conference appeals to me about as much as self-promotion, a lactation lounge, writing only sponsored posts and leaving my house.

But what does appeal to me is meeting all the awesome people who are there—at BlogHer, not on my couch—and having fun with those talented/hilarious ladies.

So that combined with my raging insecurity that said awesome ladies will become bigger blogging superstars and best friends, forget about me and my blog and form some new clique like the Pink Ladies in “Grease” minus the hickeys from Kenickie is why I’m curled up in the fetal position avoiding any updates from Chicago.

Okay, not really.

It’s more like lounging on the couch this weekend watching baseball and finishing up an upcoming post about fictional characters in therapy. Hey—even Snow White has issues, you know.

But in the meantime—for the MILLIONS of you people who are also awesome but not in Chicago—I invite you to click over here and read about how I have the bladder the size of a Cheerio and memories of my first hover.

powder room Because while I might not be in Chicago, I am In the Powder Room and no one is around to kick us out (see BlogHer crap above.) If we show them how much unsupervised fun we can have while they’re gone, we might just get invited back.

And you don’t even have to leave your own couch. Win-win!

Like the blog? Buy the NEW 5-star rated book!

 

Ask Abby Anything, Part 2

Welcome to Part 2 in the “Ask Abby Anything” series that makes me feel selfish but that I’m writing because I am a WARRIOR who will do anything to make you people happy. Plus, it’s a holiday week when nobody’s on the Internet so I’m less insecure about such a self-involved post.

So without further ado—nobody likes too much ado—here is Part 2.


“How is it you’re single?  I don’t swing that way, but I do like your warped and twisted sense of humor.”

Yes, I take “warped and twisted sense of humor” as a compliment, which might be why I’m single. Or I’m single because I don’t date. I think that’s kind of how things work. There’s a long history of things that have lead up to this decision, but it boils down to the fact that I’m totally okay on my own.

I wouldn’t completely dismiss the possibility of dating a bit. However, I don’t put much effort into it, so unless this suitor comes to my door selling avocados, I’m pretty much destined for spinsterhood.


“How did you decide on your comfy couch?”

As you probably know, my couch gets me. We spend our weekends and weeknights together. There’s nothing I look forward to more than hanging out with some snacks and reading, writing or watching TV (see “Why are you single?” above.)

When I bought my house I found this one at the second store I went to. It matched my new paint, the ends reclined with foot things that came out and the price was right.  My thinking was that if it was what I liked, there was no point in searching for something better—even though now it’s covered in a blanket to protect it from hairballs.


“Do you have a favorite hummus recipe that you use?”

Yes, it’s really super easy. I get in my car and go to the store, locate the Wild Garden hummus and bring it home to live in my fridge until I stuff it in my face. It’s organic and has only a few ingredients but a bite that I really enjoy (warning though—the jalapeno flavor is WAY spicy.) I thin it a little with water and use it as a dressing for salads a lot.


“C
an you ride a unicycle?”

I’ve never actually tried a unicycle, but I rode into both my mom’s rosebushes and a fire hydrant when learning to ride a 2-wheeler and my coordination hasn’t greatly improved from that point, so I’m going to assume that I can’t. (Although maybe I should try—blog fodder!)

But I can still do the splits all three ways and carry 8 bottles of beer at one time (skills mastered while working as a cocktail waitress—don’t ask.) I have talent.


“People keep telling me that when I stop looking for a partner, that is when I will find him. Is this true? If it is true, how does one stop looking?”

I’m no expert (see above) but I never understood people obsessed with finding a husband. Live your own life, create your own happiness and your energy will draw in people who are meant to be in your life.

I might liken it to trying to remember the name of something you forgot. The harder you try and think of it, the slimmer the chance of it popping into your brain. Then one minute you’re in the shower and “BAM!” it comes to you. (Not that a husband is going to appear for you in the shower, but you get my point. I hope. If a husband DOES all the sudden appear for you in the shower, don’t drop the soap. Unless you’re into that kind of thing.)


“Worst job you’ve had?”

I’ve had some crappy jobs, but I would say it was working at a video store in high school. The video cases themselves were always dirty and gross, as were some of the people that came in there for porn. My supervisor was a 40-year-old guy who still lived at home and giggled when saying “Adult Video.”

We were required to wear a white dress shirt, black pants and a necktie. Yes, a tie. Not only was the tie not fashionable for a female, it also wasn’t practical when I had to clean the popcorn maker—scraping out the burned-on artificial butter and caramel syrup while practically hanging myself with the tie.

Eventually smelling like burned popcorn every day and being told I had to work every holiday and holiday eve, I started to want to purposely hang myself with the tie and quit. 


“Where can I buy your books?”

OK. No one asked that, but you can get read about them here and we can wrap up this ridiculously long post. Now I’m going to ask the five people on the Internet this week to entertain me: 

 Worst job you’ve had?

The Internship

Thank you for you interest in becoming my editorial intern. I realize this is a slightly unconventional position, but I need help with some things and you need the college credit, so it’s really a win-win!

Now let’s get this interview started.

Before my illustrious career as an editor for employment and blogger for enjoyment, I was an intern myself. Twice!

My experiences were the semester before I graduated from college. I moved to the mystical city of Detroit for six months to be a Publishing/New Media intern for the Detroit Red Wings. Being a HUGE puck head myself, it was pretty much an awesome experience.

redwingbook

I was Editorial Assistant for this hardcover publication. Cool book.

When I returned I was a Media Relations intern for the professional minor league hockey team in my home town. Neither of these positions paid, so working 40 hours a week for no money was a great way to prepare me for my future career as a writer.

This is where I should mention that this position doesn’t pay either, at least monetarily, but the experience will be priceless.

I spent my intern days compiling 4,000 trivia questions about hockey (not an exaggeration), running stats to scouts and stuffing sub sandwiches into rockets to be launched into the seats during games, but my intern will be doing more practical things.

As a mentor, I want to help you live the life of a successful writer so you might one day do your online shopping using the “Price High to Low” option instead of the other way around.

We all need to have goals.

I’m sure they taught you all the “book” things about writing you think you’ll need in the real world, but writing only gets you so far. The rules have changed and it’s actually much less about what you write than the things you do before and after you write.

So I will prepare you for the real world by asking you do a lot of work in order for me to reap the rewards and become successful without giving you very much credit. But again, great for the résumé!

Expected Duties

If you want to “go viral,” just writing something of quality won’t get you anywhere. So my intern will focus on deciphering electronic ebonics—LMAO, SMH, etc.— composing ridiculous lists for Buzzfeed and creating a new Internet sensation/meme that involves a moody cat wearing clothes. It can also be another small mammal, but cats seem to be a big hit.

During the summer months you’re required to mow my lawn at least once a week. There is no additional compensation for this, but I promise to look out the window and give you a “thumbs up.” 

Some of my followers forget to retweet everything I’ve ever tweeted, which is weird, so you’re required to retweet and “like” everything that I post on social media. If we’re together in person, simply ring a little bell every time I crack a joke.

If (when) you notice I have food in my hair or on my shirt, please let me know. I hate to see food go to waste.

Answer the phone with, “Can I take your order?” instead of “hello” to see if it helps to sell books. Also walk around the city reading passages out loud, laugh and suggest that they all buy the books.

Every Sunday you have to come over, brush my hair and yell at squirrels with me because it’s Sunday and we all need to unwind. YOLO! (See? I’m already using electronic ebonics — this is your first test.)


So as you can see, the experience will be invaluable and guarantees you probably might be able to get a semi-decent job five to 10 years after the completion of your education.

By the way, do you do toilets?

Like the blog? Buy the NEW 5-star rated book!

P.S. Google Reader is now a thing of the past, so be sure to subscribe to this blog via email or follow me on Facebook or Twitter (buttons up there on the page.) Unless you want to break up. Then I guess you have your excuse.

Why Write?

Disappointment isn’t something that I deal with well. More often than not I keep things behind the scenes, but occasionally whining slips out—as evidenced by this post I’ve written and quickly put up before I could go and delete it.

But I’ve been thinking I need a new hobby. This writing thing has been great and I truly enjoy it, but the disappointment and rejection tend to build and create this volcano of frustration and self-doubt that threatens to erupt when even the garbage man refuses to buy my new book.

YOU CAN READ IT WHILE YOU’RE ON THE CRAPPER, YOU FOOL!

Anyway, I have a couple humor-centric posts coming soon, but that’s where my head is. Stuck up my butt in a constant loop of defeat, researching ways to make creative doilies out of cat hair and perfecting my pitch for “Shark Tank.”

But a friend—a writer friend—alerted me to something she had recently read that might resonate, and yes, yes it did. It’s an introduction to “Why We Write: 20 Acclaimed Writers on How and Why They Do What They Do” by editor Meredith Maran.

Below is part of what she had to say:

“Why do writers write? Anyone who’s ever sworn at a blinking cursor has asked herself that question at some point. Or at many, many points.

When the work is going well, and the author is transported, fingers flying under the watchful eye of the muse, she might wonder, as she takes her first sip of the coffee she poured and forgot about hours ago, ‘How did I get so lucky, that this is what I get to do?’

And then there are the less rapturous writing days or weeks or decades, when the muse is injured on the job and leaves the author sunk to the armpits in quicksand, and every word she types or scribbles is wrong, wrong, wrong, and she cries out to the heavens, ‘Why am I doing this to myself?’

It’s a curiosity in either case. Why do some people become neurosurgeons, dental hygienists, investment bankers, while others choose an avocation that promises only poverty, rejection, and self-doubt? Why do otherwise rational individuals get up every morning – often very, very early in the morning, before the sun or the family or the day job calls – and willingly enter the cage?

Is it the triumph of seeing one’s words in print? Statistics show this isn’t a reasonable incentive. According to the website Publishing Explained, more than one million manuscripts are currently searching for a U.S. publisher. One percent of these will get the nod.

Nor can we credit the satisfaction of a job well done. As the ever-cheerful Oscar Wilde put it, “Books are never finished. They are merely abandoned.” Only 30 percent of published books turn a profit, so we can rule out material motivation. God knows it can’t be for the boost in self-esteem. To paraphrase Charlie Chaplin’s depiction of actors, ‘Writers search for rejection. If they don’t get it, they reject themselves.’

Why, then, does anyone write? Unlike performing brain surgery, cleaning teeth, or trading books, anyone can pick up a yellow pad or a laptop or a journal and create a poem or a story or a memoir. And, despite the odds against attaining the desired result, many, many people do. We fill our journals and write our novels and take our writing classes. We read voraciously, marveling at the sentences and characters and plot twists our favorite authors bestow upon us. How do they do it? we ask ourselves. And why?”

In 2001, naturalist Terry Tempest Williams addressed the question in “Why I Write” in Northern Lights magazine.

“I write to make peace with the things I cannot control. I write to create fabric in a world that often appears black and white. I write to discover. I write to uncover. I write to meet my ghosts. I write to begin a dialogue. I write to imagine things differently and in imagining things differently perhaps the world will change.”

I don’t know if I would go as far as to say I write in hopes the world will change, but I suppose I write in hopes that my world will change in some way. Writing gives me an escape, and although at times it feels like it makes me a prisoner to my head and leaves me at the mercy of readers who might not be there, I come back. Every day I come back to the words.

And I promise words with less weight in the future, but I just had to vent. Today, that’s what writing is for (the doilies will just have to wait.)

If you write, why do you write? If you read, why do you read?

Like the blog? Buy the NEW book here. Why? It has stories about drunk nuns, Vanilla Ice and adventures at the ATM. Plus, you’ll be cooler than my garbage man. 

Ask Abby Anything

I have a “real” to put up soon, but today I present a completely self-indulgent “Ask Abby Anything” segment. The “TODAY” Show hasn’t called to interview me yet and considering I’m nosy about other people, I thought you might be nosy about me.

Then I realized how vain that sounded and regretted the idea, but it was too late to take it back so I just moped about it for a few days and then decided to shut up and answer your questions instead.

I couldn’t cover them all in this post, so I’ll do the second part shortly—if you don’t find this horribly boring.

Let’s move on.


Surprisingly, the first question wasn’t, “Why do you ramble so much before actually getting to the point?” but rather, “When you write, do you ever feel like any topic is ‘off limits?’ Are there things you want to write about, but shy away from because the blow-back might be too severe?”

Yes and no. I don’t shy away from anything, but at the same time I try to make sure that I’m writing about me more than anyone else. I don’t mean that in a self-centered way, but rather that there are a lot of stories out there that aren’t mine to tell. I have issues—sometimes with other people—but I don’t need to vent that all here. Given the fact that anyone can find anything on the Internet, I also make sure I wouldn’t regret my boss or a relative reading it.

I’ve also changed the direction of my blog a bit in the past year and kind of avoid more serious topics now. For every post that is questionably funny, there are probably 10 “serious” ones that get trashed. I figure everyone has their own crap and gets bored reading about mine all the time. I kind of just want to have fun.


“Have you ever had any funny/awkward interactions from co-workers or other people in your day-to-day life reacting from something they read on your blog?”

Blogging is weird because you never know who has read something. After I published this post, a coworker (with a great sense of humor) made a point to tell me he replaced the paper towel all by himself. There have also been times people have asked me about things I’ve mentioned and I get freaked out until I remember that I blogged about it. It’s nice to know they read, but also weird because I don’t know as much about them.


“When it comes down to brass tacks, do you think beer in the glass or beer in the bottle is more classy?”

I don’t even like beer, which is not a trait I inherited from my mom. However, when I was a cocktail waitress in college I had a woman who insisted I serve her draft beer in a wine glass because she thought it looked classier. Questionable, at best. Final word? I say bottles save you from washing a glass. The end.


“Crunchy peanut butter or smooth? And, more seriously, when did you make the decision to be vegan and why”?

Smooth sunflower seed butter, as I can’t tolerate peanut butter. And while I like almonds, I’m not a huge fan of almond butter.

As for the vegan issue, I rarely ever talk about that here in any depth because I’m not preachy and figure to each their own. The short version is that I was a vegetarian for eight years before I went vegan. My decision was a combination of my own health (another topic in and of itself) and ethics. Once I learned that animal agriculture is responsible for the death of over 56 billion animals worldwide each year–not even counting fish—and that even animals raised under the most “humane” circumstances suffer tremendously, it wasn’t hard to transition.

Given my  history with OCD, exercise and food, veganism also gives me a sense that the food I’m eating has a nutritional and ethical purpose. This helps ease the guilt that has dominated my eating for years and I never feel deprived, only rewarded. A majority of the blogs that I read are vegan/veggie-centered, so if you want recommendations, let me know!


“Why is it you always get the chance to see squirrels dancing? What am I doing wrong?”

I get them drunk on fermented fruit. Also, they signed a contract that barters seeds for a minimum of two hours of entertainment a week.


Stay tuned for part two in which I address hummus, couches and love—and any other questions you want to leave in the comments below. Otherwise, my turn.

“Who is the one person you would like to interview and why?”

Like the blog? Buy the NEW book here. Why? It has stories about drunk nuns, Vanilla Ice and adventures at the ATM. It’s obviously destined to be an American classic.

Spring Word Search

This isn’t a “real” post.

Well, technically it is considering that I wrote words and published it here, but the “real” post will come on Tuesday, so be prepared for mild amusement and/or disappointment and the winner of my giveaway.

Yes, the giveaway!

The real reason for this post that isn’t really a post is to remind you to 1) read my last post 2) humor me by possibly buying the book and 3) leave a comment so you can be entered to win the Amazon gift card.

With your “to-do” clearly established, I will also add that I wrote this post that isn’t really a post is to 4) thank everyone who HAS read, shared and commented on my last post and 5) welcome all the new followers as a result of those shares and a magical alignment of the stars.

Because I’m saving a “real” post for Tuesday—good lord, I better make sure I have a post done by Tuesday—I thought today would be a good time to do another “Word Search” post.

For the uninitiated, I get some very random and often humorous search terms that lead to my blog. Sometimes I can tell what post led them here, but sometimes I’m confused and a little bit disturbed.

For example, I’m not sure what it means that “emotional constipation” has shown up on the list more than once, but I don’t feel like that’s very favorable for me. Actually, it’s not very favorable for whoever is Googling “emotional constipation.” They really should start up a blog.

Anyway, I present the latest Word Search installment (with my notes in parenthesis.)

  • I’ve got on my big girl panties, bitch bra and shitkicker boots
  • I wish it were socially acceptable to hibernate (whoever Googled this—we should be friends)
  • Fine, whatever. I’ll just date myself.
  • I love stickers and raccoons hunting with pellet guns (who doesn’t?)
  • Peegret—when you wish you would have gone to the bathroom before you left
  • I have to be naked when I drive
  • Banana clips or Polish babushkas? (Forget the meaning of life. This is the important stuff, people.)
  • Woman cites “He hit ‘reply all’” as reason for insanity. Judge accepts plea.
  • Vanilla Ice in a thong
  • Traveling gnomes using the squatty potty and avocado cutters (at the same time?)
  • I wrote “bitch” in my GPS and it lead me to your driveway (I saw you pull in and dove behind the couch)
  • My grandma is totes cray-cray (probably because you use the words “totes” and “cray-cray,” which technically aren’t even real words)
  • My dog calms down after I put a dress on her (please send pictures)
  • I would exercise but it makes me spill my drink
  • I like putting on a show for the neighbor lady with my tater tots (let’s assume tater tots is NOT a euphemism for anything else, shall we?)
  • Boy squirrel glued in a French maid dress cleaning the house (is this a thing? I would totally sign up for that.)
  • I’ll be your dork

I will be your dork for as long as you guys will put up with me. And if you’ve put up with me all the way to the end of this post that isn’t really a post, I will remind you again to enter the giveaway and then come back next time when one person will be announced the winner and everyone else will be disappointed and probably never visit again.

But for now, enjoy your weekend. Unless you’re the person who Googled “I want to nurture Martha Stewart and help her with her bra wedgie.”

In that case, you’re on your own.

Like the blog? Buy the book.