Mama in her Ketchup


My mom would have loved this…

Where’s the Humor?


I still believe that my greatest attribute is my sense of humor. I know that it’s still there because sometimes I’ll make my boyfriend laugh so hard that he insists that I should go to an open mic night downtown at a comedy club. I try to explain that my humor is mostly spontaneous and I don’t have an act or anything.

Not to mention that I’m naturally introverted and shit.

If you put my daughter and me together and if we’re both in relatively decent moods (you know, not both on our periods) we’re a comedic force to be reckoned with. Our banter back and forth is pretty hilarious. I’m proud to have passed down this trait to her.

I mean, she did end up with all of my mental health problems, but at least she’s fucking funny.

At least there’s that, folks.

A few months after starting this blog back in 2012 (how the time does fly) I decided to tap into this natural ability of mine, something along the lines of healing with humor. I tried my best to deal with every shit sandwich that was thrown my way with at least a touch of laughter.

But the shit sandwiches started to pile up so high that I began to lose sight of that brilliant idea and massive turds began to muck up my finely honed humor gears. The funny just stopped percolating and started to choke like my generic one cup coffee maker does the last few minutes of brewing my morning wakey juice.

“Ehh, uhh, uhh, uhh….aahhh.”

My daughter does a much better impression of it.

I’ve obviously been writing these past few months about my grief. Losing your mommy isn’t something that you just “get over.” I mean, that was my mom and even with our many issues, I love that woman and she’ll always be my fucking hero.

I’ll never get over it. Never. My best hope is to be able to move forward with my sorrow and forever until we meet again broken heart.

I can already tell that people are getting tired of it like that means a damn thing to me. I live my life for myself, not for other’s comfort level. That shit ends now.

I decided last night while I was out shopping with Steven to take my comedic chops on the road and see if I could still get cashiers and some of the people in line to laugh. Think of it as a homage to my mother, because she absolutely loved to joke around with strangers back in her prime, much to my youthful embarrassment.

I get it now, mom.

I first pick up on their vibes to see if they are open to such an exchange. (Another innate talent o’ mine.)

If I sense that they aren’t grumpy assholes, I proceed.

It makes me feel better when I can cheer someone up and make them giggle, guffaw, chuckle and whathaveyou.

I only wish that I could feel up to it more often. But at least it’s still in there, just waiting for me to use it when I’m able to.

Because if it wasn’t still there, then I’d be royally screwed.

Five Signs That You’re Getting Old

I just hit a major milestone recently, turning 45 years old. To some of my friends, I’m still a “baby.” That’s fine, I accept the compliment with a chuckle and a smirk.

But to my daughter and her friends, I’m vintage. Like, I know all of the words to the television theme song “Flipper” and continue to retell the tale of the day when my mom shredded my cassette tape of “Girls, Girls, Girls” because she thought the lyrics were just absolutely filthy.

I find myself saying “back in my day” constantly and like clockwork, my 22 year old rolls her eyes.

“Back in my day…”

She’ll mimic me in a sad attempt to keep me from jumping into my time-machine, which happens to be a 1988 Dodge Omni.

It never works. You can’t stop the passage of time.

Here’s my list of the five signs that you’re getting old.

1. Excitement Over New Appliances

My boyfriend recently bought a new air fryer, so he gave me his old one. He could’ve easily sold it for at least $30, but he decided to change my life instead.

I love this thing. You can cook pretty much anything in this bad boy. Onion rings! Hot Dogs! French Fries! Even burgers!

They come out perfect, like a real fryer but without the oil and mess. Not to mention that it’s healthier because there’s absolutely no greasy residue! If you’re over 40, stop reading this and tell somebody about this modern day miracle.

I’ll wait right here, I need a moment to calm down anyway.

2. You Can Find Song Lyrics To Fit Any Situation

Daughter: Mom, I’m worried that I’ll never find a decent guy.

Me, in a sing-song voice:


“Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be”

Daughter: Is that the new song by Rihanna?

3. You’re Confused At How Much Things Cost Now

My daughter is on the way to the store to grab some snacks and asks me if I want anything. I reach for my purse and hand her $2.

Me: I want a Kit-Kat, a Coke Zero and a bag of chips, surprise me.

Daughter, looking down at the crumpled dollar bills: Um, mom? This isn’t enough money to buy all of that.

Me: What do you mean? A candy bar costs like 40 cents! Make sure you give me my change back, every penny counts.

4. You Obsess About The Smell Of Your House

I have two dogs and a young adult living in my home.

This combination causes a grand stink to emanate from my condo. Parts of my home are what I declare “odor neutral” like my…well, never mind. There are no parts of my home that don’t smell like shit.

What can I do?

I buy candles when they go on sale. I stock up. As many different scents as possible and I light those bitches up to mask the smell of dog and the dishes that my daughter left in the sink (not rinsed off.)


Scummy water, my favorite.

The sprays don’t last long enough in my opinion. On occasion, I’ll purchase some of those plug-in oils that cost a small fortune and stick them in my kitchen and bathroom outlets. Yet much to my annoyance I find that the oil has been working so hard to rid my home of funky smells that within days the glass container is almost bone dry and needs changed again.

It’s just this never-ending cycle of stench.

5. You Get Thrilled When You Find A Bargain

There’s a local craft store that is going out of business after many years of providing yarn and popsicle sticks to the masses. Since I now consider myself a jewelry designer, my boyfriend and I decided to stop in the other evening 45 minutes before closing time to see what remnants they had left.

The jewelry section had been clearly picked through, but there were still many cool things left. I saw this amazing sign in bold, black letters:

Buy 3, Get 18 for Free!

Holy fucking cow! I asked my boyfriend if my eyes were deceiving me. He assured me that I wasn’t seeing things, so then began my mad dash to find the best beads and shit in the fastest time possible.

My hands were soon overflowing and silly me, I didn’t grab a basket when we came in because how was I supposed to know that they’d actually have some really great stuff? My boyfriend quickly looked around and found a black hat, so I used it to carry my goodies in.

I was like a kid in a candy store!! I felt giddy and almost fainted with the sheer delight of it all.

I ended up buying around $60 dollars worth of jewelry supplies for $19.27. (After taxes.)

Even a couple of days later, I am still pinching myself. It’s the kind of thing that dreams are made of, you guys.

There ain’t nothing like getting shit for free!

Money does not grow on trees and chocolate milk doesn’t really come from brown cows.

But I think I’m going to just pretend that those things are true because it still makes me feel young at heart.