TRUE STORY: Everybody Poops

So, last night I dreamed that I was going to meet Beyonce. The Beyonce. And I was super nervous because

(1) I’m always nervous when I meet new people

(2) It’s Beyonce

and (3) I don’t really know any of her songs and so what the flip was I going to talk to her about? Maybe how the conspiracy theorists had serious nerdgasms after her Super Bowl performance? Yeah, that’d make us fast and immediate friends, to be sure. *enter Illumanti symbol here*

Anyway, I was sitting in a limo trying to calm myself as I was waiting for my turn to walk out on the red carpet (of course there was red carpet, because BEYONCE), and I was repeating to myself,

“Beyonce poops, just like you. Beyonce poops, just like you. Beyonce poops, just like you.”

(Which IRL is actually my mantra when meeting new people, and now you officially know way too much about me.)

Someone opens the limo door and I step out and there she is in all her glory. I can’t remember what she was wearing but there were flashes of light everywhere and she was smiling and striking poses and I shuffled up to her and she was crazy gracious and knew my name and I said,

“You know, you and I have something in common.”

And she said, “Is that so?”

I nodded eagerly. “I pooped today, too!”

The conversation sort of died after that.

True Story: Everybody poops, but that fact isn’t a great lead in conversation.


Dear Internet Peoples,

I really want you to read my books. If, for whatever reason (seriously, any reason at all, even if that reason is you just hate paying for stuff) you find yourself tempted to download any of my books from a piracy site,

STOP. Don’t.

Instead, get ahold of me (see the ‘connect’ tab at the top of this page? Click there) and let me know. I’d be happy to give you a digital copy of one of my books on the house and here’s why it’s infinitely cooler to get ’em that way instead of pirating them:

*You can tell your friends the author gave you this book ‘cuz we’re hella tight (more integrity in this white lie than stealing my books).

*You don’t have to worry about malware or someone scamming your credit card #.

*You can walk around with that Hey, I Didn’t Steal Something From An Artist Today glow.

*Reading is awesome; reading a book that was given as a gift is double awesome.

This is a No Strings Attached offer – I’m not asking for reviews (although I do love a good review more than chocolate, and that’s saying something) or for you to tell everybody you know about my books (but if you feel compelled I’m certainly not going to stop you). I just want for you to have a way to get your hands on my stuff without having to support a crappy underground industry to do it. And who knows? Maybe you’ll buy the next one.

I hope you’ll take me up on this, Internet Peoples.

As always, loads of love,


TRUE STORY: The Scariest Thing in the World

There is nothing in the world more spine chilling than your three year child shouting from the other room,

“I’m sorry Mommy! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Mommy! I’m super super sorry!”

and then (a) not being able to get her to communicate why she’s sorry,

and (b) not being able to find any apparent reason for her sudden, vehement remorse.

Because it means that one day in the near future I am going to find something horrifying that only a tyrannical three year old could think up – like maybe a whole container of laundry soap in the dryer. Or finger paint on the piano keys. Or Vicks all over the dog. Or fingernail polish art on the carpet. Or permanent marker Gene Simmon’s style all over her sister’s doll’s face.

I am currently accepting donations of wine and chocolate to be applied directly to my ongoing Mommy Sanity Care.

TRUE STORY: Stephen King ain’t got nothin’ on a toddler when it comes to scary suspense.