This post is going to be a crazy hot mess of gooey randomness, because as usual, there’s lots going on. Mostly, I’m covered head-to-toe in baby drool, and I can’t get “My binky is hiding from Mommy…” out of my head (sung to the tune of “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean…”).

Yeah. FML.

And FYL too, because now you’ll be humming that sunny little ditty all day. You’re welcome.

Anyhow, here’s five things straight from this chaotic jumble I call “life”:

  1. Thanks to you, my amazing readers, and your supportive feedback (even though you were once accused of being “alleged” readers — don’t worry, I still believe in you…), I took the plunge and followed your advice — and pitched my story about the Photo Booth of Death to Ladies’ Home Journal. And guess what? They loved it! In fact, the editor told me that every time she had my picture on her screen and someone passed the desk, they LOLed. Like, for real. Of course, they changed a bit of the voice (I suppose “Photo Booth of Death” was a tad ominous for their happy-go-lucky readers, hence “Photo Booth of Horror” became the title —and for some reason, they didn’t want me writing “We thought we were being fucking killed” in the story). But please, if you have a moment, check out the last page of this month’s issue (Sept/Oct) of Ladies’ Home Journal. It’s my first time being published in a magazine with 10.8 million readers, so thank you all for encouraging me to pop my own national women’s publication cherry. Turns out, it felt good. And now I totally owe you all something. Like a pony. Or a brick inscribed with my undying affection. Something like that.



And check it out: Connie Britton is on the cover. Jen Anniston is on the back. And when you fold the magazine page just so, she kisses me. And my brother, too — but I figured her kissing me was slightly more titillating for all of you girl-on-girl-on-glossy-paper lovers out there.


Oh, and just one more thing: If you’re a fan of my writer page on Facebook at, you already knew all of this — so my apologies for the shameless self-promotion. But I really just wanted to share the good news with you, my inspirations!

Oh, and just one more just-one-more-thing: If you’re not a fan of my writer page on Facebook, what the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, I tend to post there more than here these days…just because I’m on Facebook frequently, browsing George Takei’s witticisms while Baby Bryerlee sleeps in 10.2-second increments.

2. You guys are plain creepy. Recent search engine results that have brought readers to my blog include:

  • “cutest ways to depict naked baby asses”
  • “how to get Super Glue off of a penis”
  • “how to get Super Glue out of the tip of my penis”
  • “squirrel penis”
  • “squirrel vaginas”

And speaking to those last two points, guess what I happened upon just the other day?

I've lost count: Is this dead squirrel #3? Or #4? And have you ever met anyone who happens upon  more overdramatic, cartoonesque roadkill than I do?

I’ve lost count: Is this dead squirrel #3? Or #4? And have you ever met anyone who happens upon more overdramatic, cartoonesque roadkill than I do?

3. One of the things I do while not making up new words to traditional Irish folk songs for Baby Bryerlee is search for writing jobs on the Internet. And you’d never believe what’s out there. So I’m sharing.

Recently, I almost applied for the following:

  • Freelance Farsi Translators (Seriously? It there a big need for this?)
  • Electronic cigarette writer (Is this someone who writes with an electronic cigarette? Or writes about an electronic cigarette? Because I’m thinking that’s a significant difference…)
  • Writer with taxidermy and baking experience (I’m seriously concerned)
  • …and my favorite, a freelance foot hygiene blogger

Remember that email I once got from a stalker reader, asking about my soft and supple hands and feet? Well, I presume that qualifies me for that last job…

4. I snapped this picture recently — his office is right next door to my nail salon. Seriously. An attorney. Named Richard Blower. Nickname, presumably, “Dick.” In Reno. Sound like something that would happen on Reno 911? Well, as they say, the truth is stranger than fiction. Oh yeah — and you can’t make this shit up.


5. Just realized: Remember my whole “Fuck The Secret” rant — that ultimately resulted in me perhaps-maybe-kinda-sorta-possibly-perchance believing The Secret could be The Truth after the whole Diet Coke kerfuffle? Well guess what? Remember how I posted a picture of me “pregnant.” With a post titled “Pregnant.” Only to try to dupe you all into thinking I was pregnant…but it was all a rouse, a total scam, because I was just playing off the whole idea of a “pregnant pause”? Holy shit. I put it out there, didn’t I? And then it happened, didn’t it? Plus, turns out, I was cuter fake pregnant.


Me. Fake Pregnant.

Yeah, I got pregnant. Real pregnant.

Fuck you, Universe. Fuck you very much.

And finally, a bonus point: I’m now a contributing writer at The full site will be launching soon, but hook up with them in the meantime if you’ve ever been a mom and you’ve ever been divorced. Even if you’re remarried. Like I am. For now. 😉

OK, your turn: Talk to me! Please? I need interaction with humans who don’t leak from random orifices and mumble and squeal and wildly swing arms they don’t realize are theirs at jingly toys with creepy, satanic smiles.

Though if that sounds like you, I certainly don’t mean any disrespect…

  1. Have you ever been kissed by a celebrity — in a magazine, or in real life?
  2. Dick Blower — epic attorney name, right?
  3. If you’re a blogger, what has been your favorite search engine term that has led to your blog?
  4. Anyone else think the song was called “My body lies over the ocean”? Guess I’ve been singing it wrong, like, my whole goddamn life.