I endured April. I didn't enjoy it much. I think there were a few Saturdays where I got red-faced tipsy and hugged my friends and husband but otherwise, my plate was FULL of nonsense that kept me apart from my beloved Netflix.Read More
A million years ago, before I had a husband or a child or any paycheque common sense, my boyfriend (same guy, minus the ring) and I would spend vast swaths of weekends swarming the shelves of comic book stores.Read More
When I was 10 years old I only needed a few things to make me ridiculously happy: very high crunchy bangs, Babysitter's Club books, strawberry fruit roll ups, my brother to not look at me, a large clear bag of gummy 7-11 5 cent candy, Guess jeans pegged at the ankle and the latest issues of Bop, Big Bopper and Teen Beat.Read More
It's a NEW YEAR. Someone really needs to add a holiday to January though. Or hire it a new PR Rep. Currently January means REFRAIN. That's a terrible slogan.
Since it's the adult thing to do, I must roll with everyone around me. The herd is sprinting and I gotta keep up. If I'm at the back, stumbling around, covered in Doritos crumbs and yesterday's socks, I will be picked off by life and mounted as a cautionary tale: The Woman Who Thought December Was Eternal And Now Cannot Even Fit Into Her Maternity Underwear.Read More
I was a hearty kid.
A stocky kid.
A kid with an iron gut and properly screwed on head. I would have made a fine pioneer.
Then puberty happened and I was transformed into a fragile cluster of bones and meat and organs that couldn’t handle certain foods, temperatures or stressful situations. Thus started my long and storied tradition of passing the fuck out.Read More