the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Why should rogues have all the fun?

Yesterday afternoon I had to wait for my usual prescriptions to be filled, and can we just talk about how much your pharmacist knows about you? He’s way more intimate with what’s going on in your life than your mom, not that your mom should be intimately involved with your life, BUT STILL. For example, I’m sure there are days when he’s filling a bottle of antibiotics and he has to fight the urge when handing them to you to say, “How’s that bladder infection treating you?”

And your mom doesn’t even know that you know what a bladder infection is! IMBALANCE. If she finds out she’s gonna be pissed. Why she always gotta be the last one to find out, NATHAN?!

A wall of popular paperback books stands to the side of the waiting area, and I casually starting browsing titles only to realize, WHOA. You guys. Have book titles and jackets always been bonkers? You’d think I’d know since I’ve written books but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve got kids, so the part of my brain that powers concentration leaked out of my ear that one time the eight-year-old kept complaining because the toddler was looking at her.

Okay. First of all, there is no rake on this cover. Bad continuity. Second, the hell? Why would you want to ravish a rake? I looked up the definition of rake and no where does it say that it is another word for SCANTILY-CLAD SEXY PERSON. If I bought this book and no one had sex with a rake I would write a letter to my congressperson and complain about the state of literature.

(Oh, wait. Found it: “A fashionable or wealthy man of dissolute or promiscuous habits.” Still doesn’t specify that he’s naked and/or sexy.)

If the husband’s head doesn’t end up mounted on a plaque above the fireplace then I’m calling bullshit on the title.

You know, what’s her name. That other one. You know. Wait. You don’t remember her name either? THIS MEMOIR JUST WROTE ITSELF.

Gay porn. I wish I knew how to quit it.

WTF? Seriously? Like, his own vampire? He’s all, yeah, I’m the leader of the free world and shit, but check out my free vampire! Blackout curtains on all the windows in the White House, y’all!

Instant Internet classic. Give me back the one I designed for PRINTER and EMAIL and REDO. While you’re at it, um. That plus sign belongs to mathematics. Like no one would notice.

SIGN ME UP FOR THIS RELIGION.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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