Tag: the irishman
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No Irish, no more
Well, peeps. Looks like I have some bad news for you all. Sorry. The Irishman? Done. Over. Finished. Sorry to disappoint. I know a lot of you liked hearing about him and the idea that I, a 40-year old single momma, could have a little true-life, fairytale romance. And it so started out that way.…
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Gym class reject
At a lovely party last Saturday night with some lovely friends. Chit chatting. Drink drunking. Nib nubbling. (Hey! I made a word!) Then my friend’s husband — as in, the dude hosting the par-tay — came over and asked her, “Should we play wiffle ball now?” She was all, “Suuuure.” She slouched a little more…
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The Irishman: Day three-six-five
Dear Irishman, This day last year, I did not know you. I did not know that the very next day you would ask to meet me. I did not know that I would try very hard not to like you or that you would be so persistent in showing me how wonderful you are. I…
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My haunted house, part boo! (I mean “two”)
My ghost story continues … click here to read part one. —— So I did my hippie magic and all was quiet for probably more than a year. One day I tried to quickly shut the bathroom door and it didn’t close all the way. It popped back open, as if the wood was swollen and…
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I’m tired of pretending I’m not special
Allow me to sound like a fussy, pretentious asshole for a moment, won’t you? I feel self-important and persnickety saying that I’m an artist. But I am a writer. Yes, writing is an art. I know this. I also know that I’m not writing the great American novel here on the old bloggity. But I’m sure…
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My life as a credit report (or) I’m 40, bitches
Did your lights dim for just sec on Friday night? Yeah? Sorry about that. That was just me entering a new decade. That’s right, darling bitches, I am 40. My daughter Megan LOVES to celebrate anyone and everyone’s birthday. A few days before my birthday I told her, “You know, I’m turning 40 this week. I…