Monthly Archives: April 2016

Hey Sexy Lady

I’m not a jealous person.  Actually, that’s a total lie.  I’m extremely territorial and will go as far as peeing on my husband’s leg, if that’s what it takes to make it clear he’s mine.  I like to think of it as part of my “charm” but probably I need meds or something.

We’re compatible in so many ways, except shopping for groceries is something we do very differently.  He’s analytical, and will spend time examining the product, comparing price, quality, packaging…he’ll even look up reviews about the company if I give him a moment.  I don’t have that kind of patience, I have important things to do…like napping.  I look first for the cheapest package of product, and then for the farthest expiration date, and that’s the package I put in the cart.  Boom, done.  Then I move on, a lot of times unbenounced to my husband.  This usually isn’t a problem, except for that one time…

He went to the opposite end of the aisle and took, like, twenty minutes figuring out which pork tenderloin he wanted.  Not my fault.  I picked out the beef in ten seconds or less and moved across the aisle and further down, trying to get on with my life.  Meanwhile, a woman with similar hair to mine moved into the place I had been standing in.  Do you see where this is going?

I looked up just in time to see my husband come in close behind this random woman and whisper something in her ear.  I found out later he was singing that line from “Gangnam Style” that goes “Heeeeyyyyy, sexy lady…” She was a little shocked and turned to face him, at which point he spots me across the aisle with my hands out to the side and a “what-the-crap-are-you-doing” look on my face.  I got ready to go pee on his leg.

His cheeks turned a shade of red I’ve never seen before and he says to her “Ooops, you’re not my wife.”

She laughed and thought it was funny.  He was mad that I couldn’t stay in one place for more than ten seconds, and was all “You’re always disappearing on me!” to which I countered with “You just serenaded another woman?!”  We decided to call it even and never speak of it again.

So I just thought I’d share that with you.


Why I Don’t Buy Ice Cream From the Ice Cream Truck

There’s not much I hate about summer.  Mosquitos, skinny bitches in bikinis, and the damn Ice Cream Man and his stupid truck with the relentless music are the only things I can think of.

Mosquitos are Satan’s minions, skinny bitches in bikinis set unrealistic expectations that no middle aged woman could ever live up to, and the Ice Cream Man is the bane of my existence.

For example, the other day I was minding my own business, working in the backyard (on my third jar of Hippie Juice) and the familiar siren song of the ice cream truck rings out across the neighborhood.  The kids eyes glazed over and they were instantly hypnotized.

“Mom, can I have ice cream?”  The little one shouts jumping up and down in place.


“Please?  It’s summer!”


“Why not?”

“Because most of the ice cream trucks around here are just a cover to sell drugs.”


For the love of Christ…

I found some cash in my underwear drawer and we went to stand on the curb like cheap, low-class hookers.

The dumb truck finally pulls up with the annoying music and  comes to a complete stop.  Yep…I’m that asshole neighbor that causes you to listen to the ice cream music until it gets stuck in your head for three weeks.

The kids wanted Warheads and I wanted a Chocolate Eclair.  Ice Cream Man asked what the ice cream looked like and disappeared into the back to find the items.  He came out a few times to look at the picture on the side of the van and I quickly realized he was unprepared to sell anything outside of weed.

After about five minutes he comes out with two Warhead popsicles and a Chocolate Eclair.  He tells me that will be six bucks, and I pointed to the picture of the Warheads and told him they were only one dollar.

He disagreed and handed me my Chocolate Eclair, which we both acknowledged was two dollars.  He disappeared to “find the Warheads that cost one dollar.”

After about five more minutes, my Chocolate Eclair melted and I seriously considered just buying some weed as the neighbors started peering out the windows to find out why the damn truck was still playing that music.

He hands me two Bomb Pops and says “That says Warheads.”

I smiled politely and said “No, that says Bomb Pops.”

Five minutes later, he comes out with the Bomb Pops again and says it was all he had which was funny because I could’ve swore he had two Warheads in his hand earlier.

So I looked at the little guy and begged him to just take the Bomb Pop so I could go drink my melted Chocolate Eclair, to which he agreed.

I handed my five dollar bill to the Ice Cream Man and he informed me he didn’t have any change.

Mother Fu-

I thought about pulling him out of the van by his twiggy little neck and beating his ass, but then I remembered that it’s not very “lady-like” so I smiled politely and told him to “Have a nice day” while I silently placed a curse on him.

I poured my Chocolate Eclair into a cup and told the kids to enjoy their overpriced Bomb Pops, because we’d never be getting ice cream from the truck again.

It turns out I’m not as patient as I thought I was.

The Phases of Writing a Novel

Phase One:  The “I’m Going to Write a Novel” Phase.

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Hey!  Look at me, full of hopes and dreams.  I have a million amazing ideas that are so good this story is practically writing itself!  I’ve found my calling and nothing can stop me now.

Phase Two:  Writer’s Block

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Seriously, where the hell did all the good ideas go?  That couldn’t have been all I had…

Phase Three:  Perfecting the Writing Process

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Look at me, not being productive!  Checked Facebook.  Played on Instagram.  I cuddle the kitty…I kiss the puppy…and the cat is wearing my glasses, haha…ha…Okay, back to work.

Phase Four:  The Rewrite

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Yeah…this is nothing like my original.  I pretty much just wrote two entirely separate books.  Now I’ll have to rewrite my rewrite.  Damn it…does it ever end?

Phase Five:  The First Five Hundred Edits

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Okay, why the hell do I even HAVE spellcheck?  I really need to make a final decision on how to spell my main character’s name.  This scene doesn’t make any sense…I’m not sure I even wrote that!  This should go here and that should go there.  And this right here is just stupid, it shouldn’t go anywhere.  Next time I’ll do a little more writing and a little less drinking.  Yeah right…look at me being all funny.

Phase Six:  The Next Five Hundred Edits

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That about sums it up…

Phase Seven:  Query and Daydream

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I am gonna be so freakin’ famous!  J.K. Rowling will be my bff and we’ll go on book tours together, drink wine and write and laugh all the time.  Once these agents see how awesome I am, all my hard work will pay off!  Any day now…

Phase Eight:  The 57th Rejection Letter

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Oh my God…nobody likes my work.  My writing sucks big, hairy balls.  I’ve just wasted a year of my life and I have nothing to show for it because I have no talent.  My mom said I was awesome…I don’t understand what happened…

Phase Nine:  The “Screw it, I’m Gonna Be a Stripper.” Phase

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