Accountants are frowny

The relationship budding between me and my accountant bares similarities to that between my beloved Pam, and her own very talented accountant, Cyril. Let’s watch, shall we?    Once again I sit in Mike the CPA’s office to talk about why I should have to pay taxes on the art and information I offer the…

Drownding isn’t a word. But I’m doing it anyway.

It’s back to my woo-woo Lisa the Good Witch therapist, and her hourly rate; which is so high it seems like only the most sad and baffled aging Hollywood wives would be asked to pay it. And me. Because goddammit, she’s a soul-fixer genius. I don’t care if she DOES believe the midichlorians that incandescence her blood…

Pain + Time = Defying Gravity

        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…

Bleeding, passing through.

Sibling Day. So that’s a thing is it? Well, here is what I have to say about that. I still don’t know what I did. I thought everything was fine. Mom died, leaving us full grown orphans. We buried her together, next to our father, each of us shouldering some burden of not being anyone’s…

How to Cover Your Shame

      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…

Go ghoti, you geurck.

  I had my birthday, and my friends left me long wonderful messages both on my Facebook wall and in private. And I noticed something. After sooo many of the messages, there would be another typed below it quickly. *meant “their” not there *my autocorrect is awful, sorry *forgive my spelling I make money by…

Hate Crimes A-Hoppin’

  I have no family of note. My dad was an only child of parents who didn’t keep in touch with their siblings, who also had almost no children. My mother; a more convoluted but similar story. Anyway, they all died and I got generations of papers to store in my garage. I found this…

The stupid pig wears a coonskin hat

  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…

Like the girl with the cape

  My phone died, and when I plugged it into charge,  I got texts from months ago. I don’t know what that’s all about. Where were they lingering? Inside a cord, stacked inside a cell tower, or embedded in the light? No matter. Point is, one of them was a piece of bad feelings from an…