I'm Always Right


It is a ridiculously hot real estate market and the Hubs has been working overtime. When we first started working together way back in 2006 we divided up the responsibilities: he'd work with buyers and I'd work with sellers. Over the last couple years, I've pulled away from real estate and left a lot of it up to him. He's been working like crazy these last few months and I couldn't help him because I've been finishing up Midlife Bites.

But as luck would have it, I'd just turned in my book to my editor at the same time he sold a listing, so I could help him. And it was a good thing I was around!

Because he specializes in buyers, he sometimes forgets the rules and laws for working with sellers. Last week he sold a listing (yay) but I felt he was misinterpreting the contract. No. It was more than a feeling. I KNEW he was misinterpreting the contract, but I could not get him to understand that what he wanted to do was not correct. 

"No, no, no," I said. "You'll be in trouble if you do that."

"I do it all the time," the Hubs replied.

"Yeah, because when you do it you're representing the BUYER. It's okay when it's the buyer, but the seller cannot do that!" I was practically screaming because he wouldn't listen to me. 

"What do you know?" he said. "You haven't sold a house in a year." 

McScuze me??? I might be a bit rusty, but I still know my contract law. "I know my shit," I argued. "I've sold a lot more listings than you have. Trust me. I'm right."

"I'll bet you I'm right," the Hubs said.

I don't normally like to bet unless I know I can win. When I go to Las Vegas, I go to the spa and shopping because I'd rather "lose" money that way. But I knew I was right, so I bet him. "If you call the real estate commission and ask them who is right, I'll bet you a hundred dollars," I said. That's how confident I was.

"Fine," the Hubs said. "I'll call them now."

"Fine," I said.

The problem was, it was a Saturday and the commission was closed for the weekend.

Yesterday was our anniversary. We didn't exchange gifts this year because after 18 years of marriage, what could a person still want? 

I was working in my office when the Hubs poked his head in. "You got a minute?" he asked.

"Yup."

He walked in and dropped a hundred dollar bill on my desk. "The Hubs always pays his debts," he said. "Happy Anniversary, you were right. You're always right."

And that right there was all the gift I've ever wanted.


What's the best anniversary present you've ever received?


Check out my signed books! Follow me on Instagram!




Meet Stan the Mann!


If you follow my personal Facebook account, then you'll know, we got ourselves a Pandemic Puppy in August. 

That's right, I finally broke down and adopted a dog. I know Adolpha's first word was "Dada" but I'm pretty sure her second word was "puppy." For over ten years Adolpha has asked us every day if we could get a dog. 

I didn't want a dog because I had enough to take care of and I knew that no matter what anyone said or promised, I'd be the one responsible for the dog. 

But once we were in the throes of the pandemic with no end (still) in sight, I decided that maybe we all needed a little furry friend to make us feel better. Every day we'd send links to one another advertising different dogs that were available for adoption. We argued over the pros and cons of big dogs vs. little dogs. Puppies vs. older dogs. We made lists of potential names for our non-existent dog. 

Finally, after several weeks of planning, we found the perfect dog and name: Stanley.

We're all big fans of The Office and Stanley is our favorite character so it made sense to name him Stanley. 


When Stan's adoption day rolled around, we wore masks and sat in our minivan while we waited for him to return from his surgery (snip, snip). Finally, after two hours of waiting, a masked volunteer dropped a sleepy puppy in Gomer's lap and we were told, "Good luck!" 

I didn't know what to do with a dog. Neither the Hubs nor I had a dog growing up and we didn't have any sort of "dog-ternal instinct" that would kick in. So, I ordered a bunch of books and started reading. I've read more about raising dogs than I have about raising kids! Luckily, Stan is super smart and he's made it quite easy for me.

We've had Stan for several months now and he's officially part of the family. So, must a part of the family, he got his own Instagram account. If you're not working on social media, you can't be in this family!


When we got Stan the kids were out of school and everyone could help take a turn watching him, playing with him, feeding him, walking him, pooping him, all of it. But within a few weeks school started and the state was like, "Ma'am, your kids need to be learning shit, not taking care of the dog so you can fart around on Facebook." 




So, guess who is Stan's BFF? 

It's not terrible, though. He gives warm hugs and is always happy to see me, which is more than I can say for the rest of my family. I finally get why people like dogs so much!

OH! I forgot, here's the FAQ everyone always wants to know about Stan. 

What kind of dog is he? We don't know. Because he's a rescue, we weren't given a lot of info except he's a "Retriever mix." There are days he looks like he's got some beagle in there or some boxer. 

Those paws are big! How much does he weigh? He's finally growing into his big paws. Last month at the vet he weighed just over 30 pounds. The vet has guesstimated he'll be 70 pounds. 


As I said, I don't have a lot of instinct when it comes to raising dogs, so give me your best bit of advice please! Follow Stan so you can take in all of his cuteness! 

And if you order a signed copy of any of my books, you can be assured that Stan helped me stuff the envelope. Act now and receive a slightly-chewed bookmark for FREE!!

 

Anyone Else Falling Apart Or Is It Just Me?


So I'm pretty sure I'm going through a midlife crisis. I feel like I'm falling apart. I feel like the more I try to keep from falling apart, the faster I fall apart. I feel like I'm drowning and I can't breathe. And, on top of all that, I also feel numb. I'm not positive that's a midlife crisis, because when I Google midlife crisis or signs of a midlife crisis, so much of the information points to how men feel or how men can cope. There's not a lot of information out there for women.

I thought, Maybe it doesn't happen to us? No, I think it's more like we don't talk about this stuff. 

I was reminded of a story about my overwhelmed great-grandmother asking her doctor for some help and he told her, "Nice women don't discuss such things."

Nice women don't discuss such things.

I guess it's a good thing I'm not a nice woman? Because I'm ready to discuss this uncomfortable topic.

I'm miserable. I've been feeling this way for about a year now and I was afraid to say anything even to my closest friends and family. It's a really shitty thing to say out loud, because I know it hurts the people close to me, plus it just sounds like typical suburban angst. If I was a refugee somewhere, I wouldn't get the luxury to say, "I'm just not happy." I'm not running for my life, I'm not watching people around me get murdered, I don't have any real strife in my life, so what the fuck? Buck up! Right?  

I don't know, though. Don't I deserve to be happy? Don't I owe it to myself? Isn't that what I'm always preaching? Or am I supposed to keep this all to myself and just muddle through and not make waves?

Are You a Willful Wife?


Readers like to send me links to blogs or articles they think I might feel strongly about. This week I received a link to a blog called Biblical Gender Roles. I didn't even have to click the link before I felt "strongly."

But I took a deep breath and decided not to judge the blog by its title. After all, I'm always irritated when people scoff, "People I Want to Punch in the Throat? That sounds so violent!" I didn't want to instantly assume that this blog was written by a homophobic dude with control issues and a God-given desire to dominate the inferior females in his home. That would be wrong of me. I needed to read his writings first before I decided what to think of him.

And then I saw the title of the blog post: 8 Steps to Confront Your Wife's Sexual Refusal.

Fuck that guy. I already hate him.

The C-String


Today when I was getting dressed, I was complaining about how hot I was. It's 90 degrees today and I just can't cool off. It doesn't matter what I wear, I just can't stay cool.

I was walking through a parking lot with the hot sun beating down on me and all I could think was, Man, I'm sooooo hot. I wish there was something I could do to make me cooler. I was wearing a skirt and I gave it a little flip so I could get a breeze up in there and then I realized what was making me so hot.

It was my stupid underwear!

Covid-19 is Serious, But I Won't Stop Being Funny


Hey! How's it going? Everybody hanging in there? It's weird being home all the time, right? As a full-time writer, pants-loather, and curmudgeon, I was positive the stay-a-home order wouldn't be a problem for me. But after a week or so, I'm itching to get out again. Apparently, I like people. Who knew? But no matter how much I want to put on a bra and pants and leave my house, I know I can't. So, I'm staying home and helping to flatten the curve.

I'm not taking the COVID-19 lightly. In fact, I've been following the progression across the world on Twitter since December. I bought toilet paper and hand sanitizer back in January when the shelves were full.

I'm sincerely concerned about the outbreak and what it means for all of us, but I won't stop making jokes. I've been a professional humor writer for several years now. I got my start as a blogger and eventually became a New York Times bestselling author. I have over one million fans on social media and I still spend a lot of time (way too much time) on the internet interacting with them all day, every day. They know they can come to me and I will give them a daily dose of sass, snark, satire, (and swearwords).

When the virus finally arrived in the United States, I had to decide how I was going to handle my social media presence and my brand going forward. I never want to stick my foot in it with a poorly-timed joke. When there was a tragedy in the past, I usually offered condolences, went dark for the day, and within a day or so, I could be back to the funny business.
That all changed when COVID-19 hit. I couldn't just offer condolences and check out for a day or two. This virus isn't going anywhere anytime soon. It's all we talk about, think about, and prepare for. My job is to make people laugh and I treat that job incredibly seriously, especially in the midst of a pandemic.

Laughing releases endorphins and endorphins promote an over-all sense of well-being. Studies have found endorphins may reduce anxiety and depression as well as give your immune system a boost. I can tell you, anecdotally, laughing makes you feel better. I have hundreds of emails from people to prove it. Laughter helps them cope when they're going through tough times in their lives. They turn to my writing to feel better. Whether they are enduring chemotherapy treatments, or dealing with depression or loss, or just had a rough week, they all need a smile. That's why I refuse to stop.

I'm someone who uses humor to diffuse tough situations or make heavy moments feel lighter. Humor is subjective, though, and as a humorist I need to be careful. A lot of thought goes into the balance I try to strike every day. A little dark COVID-19 humor here, a lot of common quarantine gripes there, and a crap-ton of Tiger King memes spread generously throughout, because that show is a freaking gift!

We all need to laugh, now more than ever. I might not be your cup of tea (and that's okay), but I encourage you to venture out (virtually) and find people who are your cup of tea. Funny folks have nothing but time on their hands and a captive audience, so they're creating so much content for you and there is something for everyone out there. I hope you find someone who makes you laugh because in these uncertain times nothing feels better than a belly laugh.


This essay originally appeared on IN Kansas City.

8 Ways to Say "F*ck You"


8 Ways to Say "Fuck You"

I've noticed a real trend on the internet lately. The passive aggressive "fuck you". We've all been a victim of it and I'm betting we've all dropped one or two of our own on a douchebag here or there.

I've rounded up some of my favorites, but I know I missed a bunch, so leave yours in the comments!

Nothing is NOT Acceptable


Last week I was trying to think of a Mother's Day present for my mom. I'm 42 years old now and a macaroni necklace just doesn't have the same impact it used to 36 years ago. I felt like every gift I was thinking of was a crappy gift, so I asked my readers on Facebook to tell me the worst Mother's Day gift they ever received just to make sure those weren't the ones I was considering. I got the usual responses of Dustbusters, brooms, step stools, tools, and irons. However, as I scrolled through the hundreds of answers, I noticed the same gift popping up over and over again.

These Days I'm Seeing More Nudity on Zoom than HBO


This whole working from home thing is new for a lot of you and it can be hard for you to understand the pros and cons of your new work environment.

I get it. It can be a bit of an adjustment. But I'm here to help.

As someone who has worked from home for many, many years now at this point, I am here to help you newbies navigate this brave new world.

One of the best (and worst) things about working remotely is that we can all do video calls now. But video calls are a disaster for the rubes.

Ladies, Please Stop Nagging Your Husbands (and Other Terrible Advice for a Pandemic)



Today I woke up in my third week of staying at home and I perused the news like I do every morning. As you can imagine, there wasn't much out there but gloom and doom. I used to read the news every morning so I could be inspired to write something. I haven't felt very inspired lately. But today, that all changed.

Today I stumbled upon an article that stopped me in my tracks. It was like the old times! I could feel my heartbeat escalate and my breath quicken. I could feel the old familiar sense of hot rage bubbling up from deep down inside where I'd buried it under several layers of apathy, numbness, and what-the-fuckery. I suddenly felt alive again and ready to write. I had a mission! I had something to say again!

By now, you're probably wondering what was this magical article that awakened me.

Ladies, Stop Steaming Your Vaginas

Last week, I had to hop a plane to DC for a couple of days. I had a nagging feeling that I was forgetting something. And then I realized it was only because I was traveling alone! For once, I only had to worry about myself instead of keeping track of my kids and all their crap. Or so I thought...

It wasn't until I got to my hotel and fired up my computer and saw the breaking international news that Gwyneth Paltrow is steaming her vagina (I assume with a side of broccoli - that girl is a vegan multi-tasker) that I realized what I had forgotten. The little blinking light in the corner of the screen told me that my battery was low and the end was near. My computer would shut down in 1 minute unless I plugged it in. I reached into my empty bag and discovered that I'd left my cord at home.


NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

How could the universe conspire against me like this? GWYNETH is STEAMING her VAGINA and I haven't got a computer that works!!

Things I Could do Before I had Children

I had a make over last night with some of my girl friends.  We got our hair styled and we got our make up done and then we went out for dinner.  Whoohoo!!


Sitting in the chair at the salon, the hair stylist noted that my hair style is "cute."  She said, "Do you always wear it so.....flippy?"  Why yes I do, I thought flippy was in.  Is it not??  She said, "It's OK, we can tone it down a bit with the straightening iron."  She proceeded to straighten the shit out of my hair and make it smoke (literally).  When she was done, she said, "There.  Now you don't look so much like a mom!"

I moved over to the make up chair and this woman was not as diplomatic.  She said, "I'm going to have to do something about your brows."  Oh yeah, I need to get them waxed.  "Yes, you do.  Soon.  I'll do what I can.  In the meantime, let's draw attention to your eyes so the brows don't stand out so much."  I told her to break out a new bottle of concealer, because I was gonna need it.  She chuckled, but didn't argue with me.

People Who Complain They're Busy, But They're Busy With Stupid Stuff


Does that title make sense?  I doubt it.  Let's see if I can explain.

OK, so you know those people who complain about how busy they are - but it's not with work or anything really "important"?  It's more like, "Oh gawd, I'm sooooo busy, because Eustace and Duncan and Dorset have Tae Kwon Do on Mondays, baseball practice on Tuesdays, violin and cello on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, soccer all day on Saturdays, baseball for the OTHER team they play for Wednesdays, and Kumon on Fridays."  My head wants to explode just reading that.


A few years ago, before I had any kids, I was showing a house to my client and on the wall of the kitchen the home owners had a schedule with different colors for each kid.  They had four kids and from what I could gather each child participated in 2-3 activities per week and didn't get home from their activities before 9 PM on most nights.  These were elementary and middle school aged kids.  When did they eat dinner?  When did they do their homework?  What time did they finally get to bed?  When did they have time to play with their Ponies and Legos or ride their bikes?

Top 10 Reasons to "Love Me" or "Get With Me"


In honor of Valentine's Day this week, the Hubs has submitted a guest post for today.  He has no filter (this is the man who called our neighbor's 2 year old a liar) so this should be interesting.  I've given him absolute freedom to write whatever's on his mind without any edits from me.  So here you go:

So Middle-Aged Women are Baring All for Football


Okay, so if you've been following me for a while, then you know that I live in Kansas City. I don't know if you heard or not, but the Kansas City Chiefs (our football team for the unsporty folks like myself) are going to the Super Bowl for the first time in like 1,000 years or something.

Because it's been 1,000 years since we've been, our city is losing its damn mind. Everywhere you go has Chiefs' paraphernalia for purchase. Every. Where. The usual places like sporting goods stores, but also drug stores, grocery stores, and yesterday I saw some dude on a corner selling stuff out of the trunk of his car. Flags are flying on houses, businesses, and cars. Everywhere you go someone asks, "How 'bout them Chiefs?" and you're supposed to nod along and say, "Yup. How 'bout 'em?"

Of Course Gwyneth Has a Candle that Smells Like Her Vagina

Source: Goop
You guys, I was just saying I wanted to get back to blogging. I was like, "I should blog again!" And then immediately, I was like, "Ugh, what would I even talk about?"

And then the clouds parted and the Blogging Gods allowed the planets to align into two of my favorite topics: Gwyneth Paltrow and vaginas. It's a sign!

Here's the thing, I was ready to call a truce with Gwyneth Paltrow the other night. Yeah, we've been locked in a one-sided feud since she started steaming her vagina and consciously uncoupling. It's been a bitter fight...even though she has no idea who I am...nor does she care what I think of her life. Or the rest of the internet, for that matter. Damn, in many ways we really should all aspire to be like Gwyneth! Aside from her terrible "health" advice, of course. Anyhoo, I saw her on the red carpet at the Golden Globes and even though she was dressed like a steamboat madam, I had to give her props because she looked ah-may-zing. I don't know if it was the jade egg jammed up her hooha or the daily two-hour workouts with18k gold dumbells, but something is working! I knew exactly how good she looked because the gunny sack she was wearing was essentially see-through and you could see every one of her abs. Her skin was gorgeous and even in 4K I couldn't spot a wrinkle. I was like, "Okay, Gwynnie, I bow down. You're aging terrifically and all your woo-woo magic beans are working."

BUT THEN she went and released a $75 candle that smells like her vagina and now our feud is back on.

I mean, come on! First, who pays $75 for a candle? I just went to the mega candle sale at Bath & Beauty Works and snagged a dozen for that price. Second, who is buying these? Who wants that?? After I got home from BBW I realized I barely want a candle that smells like cookies, I certainly don't want one that smells like Gwynnie's muffin!

This vag candle sounds like a total bust. I bet Gwyneth loses money on this one! Oh wait, I'm being told the candle is completely sold out and there is a waiting list. God damn it, that fucking gorgeous genius strikes again! I bow down. 

This got me thinking, though. What does Gwyneth's front butt even smell like anyway? I assume it's a heady mix of patchouli, cigarette smoke, ginger, privilege, and autumnal yum

According to Gwyneth it's a "funny, gorgeous, sexy, and beautifully unexpected scent." Oh wait, that's what the candle smells like, not her coochie. I'm so confused because I thought the candle smelled like her vagina?

I'm even more confused after that description. No lady wants to be told her lady garden has an "unexpected scent." That's never a good thing, in my opinion.

And I have no idea what gorgeous or sexy smell like. But if you want to smell funny, I'm currently working on my own candle. I figure if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? Plus, my love tunnel smells unexpectedly hilarious!

Want more? Listen to my podcast!




Happy New Year!!!



If you've been around me for a few New Yearseses, then you know that I don't do resolutions. My resolutions are things like drink more water and hang up my coat, because those are easy. (Says the woman looking at her coat on the floor while downing caffeine without a glass of water in sight.) This year will be no different.

Instead, I like to pick a word for every year and work on that. I did that last year, but I didn't write down the word, so I forgot what it was. It was probably "Focus." This year I'm writing down my word right here, so I won't forget.

This year my word is "Gratitude."

I'm grateful. Usually. I swear it. But for a grateful person, I bitch a lot. I'm not going to stop bitching. That would be crazy, but I am going to work on showing my gratitude more. I'm always recognizing the big stuff, but I want to work on the little things too. My husband told me that every morning he wakes up, he starts the day grateful we all made it through the night. I wake up pissed off that the birds are loud. I want to be more like him.

So, here I go! Wish me luck!

I'm grateful you're all still here. I'm grateful I've been given this opportunity to follow my dreams. I'm grateful I have a floor for my coat to lay on.

Happy 2020, Everyone!

What's your word??


P.S. - The Giveaways are closed and the winners have been notified, so check your email!! Thanks to all who participated. Keep checking back, because I had so much fun giving stuff away, I plan to do more of that this year! 


I'm Always Right

It is a ridiculously hot real estate market and the Hubs has been working overtime. When we first started working together way back in 2006 ...

Popular Posts