The first thing I said to the first person to ever interview me on national (Canadian) radio regarding my book was in response to “How are you this morning?” “Certainly not so nervous that I’m gonna vomit! HAA!” My husband Gus calls these my “flipper baby” moments, in reference to a unfortunate bit of miscommunication…
Note the Picasso-esque shaping of the elephant’s buttocks…..
My next post was going to be a collection of sexy, vaguely homo-erotic (ok sometimes just flat out homoerotic) pictures of 19th century men that I’ve collected while finding images for my book. But hell, it’s the end of 2015. Maybe the best year of my life so far. I guess I should honor…
Every other writer I know works a hell of a lot harder than my lazy ass and if you judge by effort, I do not deserve what I’ve garnered in my 2 and a half year career. The other night I got to talk on late night radio about a little listicle…
I don’t even know what you’d call it. I called myself a “humorist” in the program but that was because my vocabulary is lacking. In a talent show, where does, “Making witty observations while wildly gesticulating in front of a slide show of 19th century underwear” fall? My friend Sonja, who is…
I have commissioned an 8×12 life boat. It will sit in my back yard, in that spot that used to be a culvert to it slopes real bad and the dogs poop there. It has a green roof that for some reason is made of bullet proof plastic, a little loft big enough for a…
Flight. Feel danger or pain approaching and retreat. Unless you’re evolutionary defective. Then you just lean right on into that pain. It’s a compulsion. Nearly out of my control. I feel it in my gut, a force tugging me from my center, off my feet and into the sharp end of whatever bad situation points at me. Especially…
