(I spent the morning searching my archives for my post(s) about the hardest part of excommunicating The Exes – how it damaged my relationship with my mom. I’m pretty sure there was at least one post about how desperate I became for someone to tell me I was OK, but
Little Sister had a baby last week! No complications, happy situation, baby boy! Amazing how much life can change in a year (warning for newbies, sad link). I want to celebrate, but the news is making it hard to generate fun loving smart-assery. Lucky for me, in all the back-n-forth
— pussy grabbing trigger warning — OK, let me set the scene for this story: Late 1980s. I was 13, maybe 14, and my family had recently moved to South Dakota, so I was actively trying to make friends. A fair amount of B-rate hair bands blew through the local
I looooovve this time of year. Not the least of reasons why is that my mom busts out this serving tray for Thanksgiving and uses it for the rest of the holiday season. It is a remnant of Fred, who has posthumously become my favorite Freaky Uncle Who Was Not
Dear Diary, I could tell the moment I woke up: Today was going to be a day like no other. The sun was shining and birds were chirping. I knew because guess what? My wrapping was open! I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Free of my plastic restraints, I