Or very nearly do. I’d categorize this latest bout of stress and anxiety brought on by the BlogHer conference as a “near-miss.” Over the last week, I bit off a little more salami than I could…
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Being Italian means God blesses you in the ass department. He may handicap you with a pushy mom and inordinate amounts of facial hair, but he gives you a nice ass to make up for it.…
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Last night, I dropped my son off at my in-laws’ house to spend a few days with them while I attend the BlogHer Conference in San Jose. Normally, I rev myself up in anticipation of having…
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Before I officially begin this review, I would be remiss if I didn’t tip my hat to Lindy West, my favoritest of Internet writers. She has something of a movie review series on Jezebel wherein she…
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When I was a little girl, I was an extremely picky eater. My poor Italian mom had to make bland baked chicken and rice pilaf for dinner practically every night. (Except Sundays. Sunday was always macaroni…
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I always knew this day would come. Alex and I swear like sailors. When I first met him, he was so prolific with the f-bombs, I wondered if he didn’t, in fact, know any other adjectives…
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Before I get this started, I’ve got to make a few corrections to the headline. Not all of us were drunk, and not all of us are middle-aged, but you’ll forgive me if I flubbed. Four…
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I’ve been to several weddings of Alex’s family and friends in the eight years we’ve been together. I’ve seen the dollar dance and sighed wistfully as a mariachi band serenaded the bride and groom. But I…
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I was already well past childhood when I first discovered Harry Potter. A friend introduced me in college and insisted that it would be one of the best reads of my life. Since I had a…
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I’m spending my 4th of July at my Mexican in-laws’ house. Because nothing says Americana like Mexican Cokes and tortillas while watching World Cup futbol on Univision, amirite? In all seriousness, the 4th of July is…
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