Facebook Friday Fal De Ral

Is "Fal De Ral" a real word? Falderal? Whatever? I am way too lazy to look it up. Doing the dictionary thing is way too much Fal De Ral for me. See what I just did there? I used it in a sentence. Seriously though, I have no idea if it's a real word or not. Alls I know is that in my family we use it all the time. It means nonsense or waste of time. I totally think it's the perfect possible word possible non-word to describe my Facebook Friday blog posts. Actually, it's the perfect possible word possible non-word to describe my entire blog. A big pile of nonsense and a waste of your time. Boom!

Why I'm proud of that I have no idea. But I am.

So last Friday Fox News Houston was at my house to do a segment about the book I Just Want To Pee Alone. If you read Monday's blog post (here) or are on my Facebook page then not only do you already know what I'm talking about, but you are totally and completely sick of hearing about it. And I'm sorry. I really am. But you have to comprehend one thing: This is a HUGE deal for us. I'm talking level 8 outta 10 excitement. I mean, it's not Oprah or Ellen or Jerry Springer or anything, but it is exciting. So you're just gonna have to deal with it for awhile. Capish?

Another thing that happened last week is that the letter that I wrote to Felicity Huffman (read it here) about how she was stalking me in L.A. and how I would like for her website to review our book, actually got me somewhere. I received an email from one of the writers on her website What The Flicka who came across the blog I wrote about the letter. She forwarded it to Felicity and to the editor of the website. Guess what? They liked my letter and are most likely going to review the book! I will keep you posted on how all that goes down, but the Felicity email plus the email I sent to Sebastien Million and the blog I wrote about Jason O'Mara all prove that sometimes being weird does pay off. Score 3 points for the weirdos of the world!

Thursday I did an interview with Hines' Side Show from US97 (Springfield's Classic Rock) back in my old town of Springfield, MO. Home of Brad Pitt and Cashew Chicken, and the place where I once got trapped inside my own car for over an hour. It will be available for you guys to listen to via itunes or something like that. You guys know that I really only half listen to the details about these things and never have any clue what's going on. All I know is that it will be available on Monday. I will post the link when I get it. The interview, chat fest, whatever it was, was fun! I really  don't remember a lot of details. It's like a weird dream after too much Mexican food where you only recall bits and pieces such as maybe you said something about smuggling black tar heroin in your butt or possibly mentioned that you wanted to be the first lesbian first lady. It's all a bit fuzzy. But I guess we'll find out on Monday.

Over the weekend I told everyone on Facebook about this artist that I have loved for years and years named Dolan Geiman. Twice a year every year I stalk him at the Houston Art Festival. I am obsessed with his work and too afraid to talk to him and too cheap to buy anything. Yes. I am afraid to talk to him. I know that shocks people but it's true. Well this year I talked to him. Okay okay. He talked to me first and instead of throwing something at him and starting to cry and then running away like my instincts told me to do, I talked back. And we talked about my favorite piece of his. And then The Hub bought me that piece. And then I nearly peed my pants from giddiness. 

Me and my  new BFF Dolan and my birds. I look calm but I was giving my deodorant a real work-out and trying not to pee my pants.

Moving on...

Popular Facebook Statuses from the past 2 weeks:

-I want to eat all of the Reese's Eggs of the world. I could live on Reese's Eggs. The ratio of chocolate to peanut butter is magical perfection. If Baby Jesus had an angelic chicken in that manger these eggs would have come from that manger chicken. Magical Jesus manger chicken eggs

-So you know you've made the small time when your home town newspaper's online edition gives you a special corner for your blogs to go. Yes. My entire hometown gets to see me write about surprise buttsecksing inanimate objects and having the nervous poopsies. Suck on that all you a-hole girls from high school who were mean to me. And that one boy I liked who didn't like me back and now looks like a hobo. And Dear Mean Math Teacher, I still don't know how to do algebra and things are going ok. xoxo Patti

-Mom, I don't wanna hurt your feelings. But some of the girls at my school have bigger boobs than you. Way bigger boobs.

The Boy
A middle schooler

-The Boy either wakes up happy and ready to roll or totally ticked off and whining about everything and saying things like I wish the whole world would explode because that's better than going to freaking school. One never knows which boy they are going to get on what day. It's a total crap shoot. Five mornings a week I climb up the stairs wondering what fate awaits me. I always sing. I hope against hope that I will get the perky boy so I always sing a song about waking up. Sometimes he throws something at me but I keep on singing. I just change the lyrics to reflect the fact that he's being a turd. I wish there was a way to know which version of The Boy I was getting every morning. Like when my alarm clock goes off it could have a little robot voice say "The Boy is happy" or "The Boy is freaking pissed." I just want a warning so I don't always walk down the hallway looking all nervous and stressy like the Green Mile guy on his way to the electric chair. But less giant. And a bit more pale.

-There was a grey cat in my yard so I went out to meet him. He was very sweet and told me his name was Sam P. Bellyrubbins. So I'm standing there talking to him and The Cat comes up to me and rubs my leg then looks at Sam. Sam was super calm and just laid down and purred. I said "Sam this is Gypsy and you guys are gonna be best friends!" Then The Cat pounced on Sam and he ran into the bushes next door. Then The Cat walked the property line between the yards. Back and forth back and forth, and kept looking at Sam like "I dare you to cross this line you furry mofo." I am very disappointed. I thought we were gonna have a cat party. I thought The Cat was friendly. I had no idea she was the neighborhood bully.


-It's the First Monday after Spring Break. the Boy has spent a week staying up until all hours and sleeping in. The Boy's schedule is all effed up. The Boy's body clock is confused. The Boy does not want to go to school. School sucks. The Boy does not want the kitchen light on. It's freaking killing his eyes. The Boy does not want a cinnamon roll. They are too small and he will be starving to death by lunch. The Boy does not want an orange. The oranges are dry. The Boy does not want chocolate milk. That's a ridiculous question. The Boy does not want The cat to look at him. She looks at him weird. The Boy does not want The Dog to lick him. It's creepy. The Boy does not want those birds outside to chirp. They're too noisy The Boy does not want the earth tp spin on it's axis. That makes us have days which make us have school. the Mom wants coffee. the Coffee is the only chance The Boy has at survival.

-----------

A few weeks ago I collaborated with my friend (and the designer of my blog banner) Sebastien Millon to create something for a charity auction. My friend Sheila over at Mary Tyler Mom is raising money for a charity called St. Baldrick's which helps to fund research for a cure for childhood cancer. Sebastien and I put our brains together and came up with this:

That's little cartoon me with a little cartoon spork holding hands with a little cartoon unicorn during the little cartoon Zombie Squirrel Apocalypse. I love this long time. It's an 18x24 inch print on archival paper, signed and dated by both Sebastien and myself. It's a one time printing and says 1/1 next to the signatures. It is available for bidding RIGHT HERE and the auction ends this Sunday, March 31st. ALL proceeds go to finding a cure for childhood cancer so it's a good thing!

That's it for this wrap-up. Thank balls. Because The Boy is all up in my bidness right now and my blog is acting up and changing the font style and size on everything I am typing all willy nilly and I feel like stabbing it if only I could stab a website because it's annoying the BeeGees out of me. So I'm out of here, you guys. Have a great Easter Weekend and eat a crap load of those Cadbury Cream Eggs so I don't have to look at them anymore. They truly disgust me. The inside looks like yolk. How is that even appetizing? I don't want my chocolate resembling chicken fetuses. Thank you very much.

Anatomy of a TV interview. AKA how to look like an idiot forever.

So as most of you guys know, I am a co-author of a new book that is out called I Just Want To Pee Alone. And as most of my Facebook followers know, I just had my dorky television debut Friday on Fox News Houston. And as most of my Facebook AND blog readers know, I am not normally a fan of doing things like this. I have a history of turning down everything media-related that ever comes my way. Not that people are banging down my door with one of those big fireman door buster downer things or anything, but I have been asked to do a few things here and there and I always pass. A couple of months ago when that casting agency in L.A. asked to interview me I said yes and actually followed through. That was me forcing myself to do things I don't want to do because I realized that seriously, what's the worst that can happen? You might look like a ding dong for eternity? Your video will get satellite bounced into space and the aliens will watch it and either want to zoom down and kidnap you to be their Queen or zoom down and kidnap you to dissect your brain to try and find out what the hell is wrong with you? Yes and Yes. But really, what's so bad about that? Although I'd rather not have my brain dissected, it IS for Science. Even if it's for Alien Science. Science is Science, you guys.  Alien or not. And is that really so terrible? Well, yeah. I guess it is. But oh well. What's done is done.

So without further ado, I give you "The Night That 3 Muthabloggers Made Themselves Look Like Dorks." You can either watch it on the screen below or click the big-ass "My Fox Houston" link to go to their site. 

 

Ok. Since that all went by so fast (Thank Balls) this is where I break it all down for you. 

First of all, here is what you look like when the reporters are pulling into your driveway. Yes. YOUR driveway. Because they want to do the interview at YOUR house. Which means that you have to clean everything so that everyone watching TV doesn't judge you for being a mess. And since it's at your house, you also have to try to fight the nervous poops that you get while waiting for the reporters to come because if you give in to them at the last minute, your house will not smell good. It's a lot of stress, preparing to have a news segment recorded in your home. And trying to hold in your poopsies. Which is why you look like this:

Yes. I am beautiful. I can read your mind right now so I know that's what you were thinking. There's no use in denying it.

So the reporter and the cameraman came into my house and got right down to business. Cameraman Rodney tells me to go to my office and pretend like I'm writing on my Facebook page. But guess what, you guys? I am not Tori Spelling. I can't "act" like that superstar can. One can only DREAM of having such talents. So I actually slowly wrote a long FB status and did not pretend. I think that's called Method Acting or something. And I think it means that I am actually on the level of a Daniel Day Lewis (which is a few levels under Tori Spelling but is still respectable) and it also probably means that he might want to make out with me if he sees this. 

LEFT: Me pretending to type and actually typing since I suck at pretending to type.

RIGHT: Awkward close-up that no cameraman should ever do to a woman who is 41-years-old. Plus, now everyone can see how big my nose is and I am dying a little bit inside.  (I don't actually have a giant circle and arrow on my face. That is from a still shot of the video. I just wanna clarify that.)

Here is what I was actually typing while pretending to type but really typing:

I am supposed to be pretending like I am writing a blog right now so they can film me for the news. I am typing. I am typing. I am typing. I am typing. Yay! I think I am doing a great job! I am very proud of myself for pretending to type for so long. This is very difficult. I am running out of things to type. Let's talk about what kinds of beer I like. I like Modelo. I like Pacifico. I like Ruby Red Bird. I like Shiner Blonde. I like Tecate. I like Dos Equis. I like most Mexican beers. Especially with lime in them. I like my rims salted. Especially with that spicy salt that I buy at Specs. I also like Margaritas. I like the skinny ones. I like the spicy jalapeno ones too. Those are good. There is a place here in Houston that makes them with cilantro. It drinks like a meal. Ok I think they are done now. This was vey hard!

Here is what showed up on my computer screen on the news:

So next,  Reporter John wanted to interview me in my green chair because Cameraman Rodney likes the green chair. He likes it a lot. But he also says that he doesn't know why he likes it. I sit here in fear that The Cat is going to pounce onto the back of my head because the back of the green chair is her special place, and sometimes she can be a real bitch about claiming ownership of her special place. Kinda like me and my potty. So I'm sitting here concentrating on staying still, focusing my ADHD brain on the questions and actually answering them correctly, and not ending up wearing a Surprise Cat Hat.

My noggin stayed free of flying feline, but instead she walked around in front of me during this interview giving me the look of death and meowing at me non-stop. The girl was pretty wound up from the time Cameraman Rodney entered the premises cuz he called her fat and it hurt her feelings. Due to all the concentration I was using, I look stiff and serious as hell here. And I could totally hear Kelley in the kitchen telling Rachael that she drank too much. That's a lot of distractions, you guys. Distractions that I managed to ignore. So basically, this little segment used up the entire 2013 allotment of calm, concentratey, seriousness that I have for the entire 12-month period. Thank balls. Cuz I am NOT a fan of it, and Rachael was slightly disturbed by it. My cousin Becky also said that this was the most serious she had ever seen me in the history of my entire existence. It's really quite difficult to watch. 

Next, Reporter John (or actually, Bossy Cameraman Rodney) told us to all sit around the kitchen table to have a drink (or two) and answer some group questions. 

LEFT: This is when Reporter John asks us who we think is the funniest out of the 3 of us. Like we are gonna answer that. Like we are idiots who don't fear for our lives or are unaware that if we answered "me" we would look like egotistical doinks on TV. I mean, we all wanted to say we were the funniest. We were all thinking it. And I guess that Kelley missed the memo on the whole "think it but don't say it" thing, because she said "Patti has the most followers but I just think I haven't been discovered yet." I think you can see the look of pure outrage on my face as I point at her with my shock finger.

RIGHT: This is where Kelley starts making boxes. Like she's a mime or something. A really bad mime because she talks while she mimes and everyone knows that talking while you mime is the first sign of a bad mime. This is also where we all make fun of her for making boxes and Rachael accuses her of being drunk.

LEFT: This is when Rachael started making facial expressions that she hates. Facial expressions that she blames on having had alcohol in her system. But I know Rachael. I know Rachael sans alcohol. Trust me: Rachael always makes these facial expressions. She just doesn't know it because it's not usually on TV.

RIGHT: This is when Kelley keeps making boxes. She won't stop. And I make facial expressions that I hate. But unlike Rachael, I am self-aware and I realize that I make them all the time. Except when I am concentrating on being interviewed in a green chair while The Cat simultaneously contemplates face-raping me. 

This is when Cameraman Rodney sets up a little still life of olive oil and wine and our book. Why? Who knows why Cameraman Rodney does what he does. Maybe he wants the viewers to think that mom bloggers like to get drunk and read while slathered in olive oil. Or maybe Cameraman Rodney is an aspiring painter and he just wanted a screenshot of this so he could paint a watercolor of it later. I don't know. I am not inside of Cameraman Rodney's bald head.

This is beautiful. I mean, seriously. Don't look at it too long or you will feel really shitty about yourself. THAT is how awesome I look here. I think that this is what happened after I asked Reporter John who edits this segment. I was just thinking that they could take this footage of 3 lovely mom bloggers and turn it into anything they want. Maybe it would end up being a piece about the "Whore Moms Of Houston" and they could take a shot of me with my legs spread (I am acting that out here) and say I was propositioning the cameraman or something. You never know how these things are gonna turn out. Never trust the media, you guys. You know that the media is responsible for making the Kardashian family look like idiots when in reality they are all shy, demure, and geniusy Neuroscientists.

This is at the end of the segment. This is after Reporter John asked us if we ever get recognized when we are out and about. I was pretending to be Kelley pushing a grocery cart through the market while loudly singing "I'm Kelley! From Kelley's Break Room!" so that everyone would know who she was. I sing pretty, you guys. 

This is a still shot from the segment above that Reporter John sent to me during editing and asked me what I would give him if he didn't use it. I said "Use it! That's the real me. It makes up for the Fear of Face-Rape/Serious interview at the beginning. Use it." I bet he wasn't expecting me to say that. I like to keep people on their toes. Well, that plus the fact that I am way more embarrassed by the serious part of the broadcast than by the crazy parts at the end. In the beginning I was all Cindy Brady on the gameshow episode of Brady Bunch. Minus the awesome crown of braids. And with the addition of a possible face-rape by a cat. Although she kinda does look like she's about to be face-raped or murdered or something. Who knows what was going on behind the scenes of that show. I mean, Mr. B was gay and Mrs. B. was making out with Greg. So maybe there was a face-raping cat in their midst. 

After the filming was over, Reporter John and Cameraman Rodney stuck around for a LONG time to chit chat and tell us stories about how awesome they are. Here is a photo of us with Reporter John. Notice the Zombie Baby and Flat Bieber photo bombs:

This is when we were attacking Cameraman Rodney and he was embarrassed because Rachael had just said "My breasticle is resting on your arm."

Shortly after this, Kelley realized that she was missing a boob. Not a real boob. That would be weird. One of her fake "chicken cutlets" that was shoved in her bra so that her boobies would look perky on TV. That's not weird at all. This marks the first time that anyone has crawled around my house looking for a lost boob under my furniture. I think she was rockin' one boob throughout the entire interview. Or maybe it fell out while she was miming those boxes. You might wanna go back and watch it again to see if you can tell. 

For the sake of The Boy, I would also like to point out that he did get on TV. He was begging me to let him be on the news but I said no. I thought this was enough. He said this wasn't enough. He also said that I was only on the news because I invented him and my invention of him was what made me funny. Then he acted out a whole scene for me and The Hub about how he could get on TV for doing nothing just like I did. The Boy is a gem.

So that's is. That's the breakdown of our TV debut, and our shot at prolonging this exposure as long as we can. I am waiting on a call from Matt Lauer. I know it's coming. I'm sure that it was the singing and dancing at the end that got his attention. I am ready for my Today Show Surprise Buttsecksing of Matt Lauer debut. Dude should prepare himself, too. Cuz like I said, I used up all my seriousness in the first few seconds of this thing. I have none left. It's all singing and dancing from here on out. 

This morning I also played reporter and Reporter Patti asked Reporter John for a quote about his experience with us. He said "I'm just glad I didn't get sporked for asking the wrong things." And "The most fun I've had with 3 women with our clothes on."

A BIG Thank You to John Donnelly and Rodney Cameraman (I don't know his last name and he probably prefers to keep it that way) for being so great. Also, please go check out my fellow Houston contributors to the book I Just Want To Pee Alone (which you can order HERE or purchase at Blue Willow Bookshop in Houston) at Rachriot and Kelley's Breakroom. 

The Facebook Friday Wrap-up that isn't even a wrap-up and was written only 75 minutes before it was officially Saturday.

Today is Friday. On Friday my new thing is to do a Facebook Friday Wrap-up situation which is basically when I pull a fast one on you and "write" a new blog post by just cutting and pasting a bunch of crap from my Facebook page onto this blog and voila! New blog, mofos. 

Well, now that there is less than 2 hours left of Friday, and I HATE waiting until the last minute to do things, I sat down to get my act together and guess what? There isn't really anything from my Facebook page this week that's even worth cutting and pasting. This week was a slow week. I was super unbelievably busy trying to hustle my book here there and everywhere. And pretty much every Facebook post I made was some version of "Yo! Go buy this freaking book before I have an aneurism!  Or before you have an aneurism from me talking about it so much!" 

In between all that blabbering, I did come up with what I think is an amazingly brilliant way to get some publicity. 

Yesterday my sister was in my yard and she found a big bone and she was all "WTF is this bone doing in your yard?" And I was all "I have no idea, but it's awesome! Do you think it's a person bone? Man, I really freaking hope it's a person bone!" And she was all "Why do you want a person bone in your yard?" And I was all "I've spent an entire week trying to get local publicity for this book, and the city of Houston is being a major dong sucker about it because if it doesn't involve a high speed car chase or a shooting or an oil well or a cold snap or something then they don't give a frick. The temperature might get below 40 tonight? Winter Coldpocalypse 2013! We now interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to talk about mittens! But 3 Houston mom bloggers co-author a book with a bunch of other mom bloggers and it instantly hits the #1 spot on 3 Amazon charts AND iTunes, therefore proving that mom bloggers are real writers and a force to be reckoned with in the world of publishing? Crickets, y'all. So basically, if I found a person bone in my yard, I could call the cops. If I called the cops, the news would find out. If the news found out, they'd interview me. If they interviewed me, I'd be holding my book up in front of my face and be all 'I was walking around the yard with this best selling book that I co-wrote, when suddenly me and the best selling book that I co-wrote found this person bone, at which time me and the best selling book that I co-wrote screamed bloody murder like that one woman did in this best selling book that I co-wrote when she was having that baby!' and then the whole finding a person bone thing would be totally worth it."

So later in the day when The Hub got home from work and went out to work in the garden, I asked him if he could go ahead and dig in some other spots around the yard to see if he could find any bodies. Then he looked at me blankly. Then I told him why I needed a body. Then he said no. Then I picked up the possible person bone to show him and it unfortunately turned out to be a rawhide. Probably from the dogs next door. So that kinda super sucked. Then I asked The Hub if he knew of anywhere that we could score a dead body to put in our yard to pretend that I found. He didn't answer me. I like to think that he didn't answer me because he was trying to figure out where to score his wife a dead person, but I think he didn't answer me because he thinks I'm an idiot. 

The man just doesn't have the kinda geniousness that I have. And that makes me sad for him.

And today I was on Facebook in my book group discussing different things that we could do to get publicity, and someone mentioned that Felicity Huffman has a mom website called "What the Flicka?" and did anyone have any connections there. So I said, "Well, one time at LAX she tapped me on the back and said 'Excuse me' because I was blocking her from the luggage carousel" so we decided that I'd be the one to write to her. Ya know, since we are practically BFF's and all. So here is what I wrote:

Hey! Felicity! Remember me? Of course you do.

I "met" you at LAX in September of 2005. Are any bells ringing? If they are, that's not an ear defect. It's my unforgettableness coming through.

You see, I was at the luggage carousel waiting to grab my bag before someone stole it. God knows I travel with some amazingly great underwear that any hobo would be happy to own. Suddenly I felt a tap on my back and heard a woman say "Excuse me." and I turned around and BAM! there you were with your hubby. I was all, "WTF are those guys doing getting their own bags? Don't they have a person for that?" I mean, P-Diddy (or whatever the heck his name is now) has a dude whose only responsibility is to follow him around with an umbrella. And seriously, not to be ass kissy, but you guys rock way harder than that clown (but don't tell him I said that cuz he probably has a dude whose only responsibility is to beat people up).

Although I didn't speak to you guys, I'm sure you remember me. I was the really tall blonde with giant eyeballs who smelled like Vanilla and was trying to act like Felicity Huffman asks her to excuse her every day. No big deal.

To make things even weirder, 2 days later I saw you at Ellen when you were a guest the day after the Emmy's. You wore your jammies. I wore an evening gown. Why was I there and why was I in an evening gown? Because I wrote Ellen a poem about poop and got to be her Emmy and show guest, and the producers were all "Hey! Wear your dress to Ellen. Ya know, the same dress you wore to the Emmy's last night for infinity hours and sweated in like a pig." Needless to say, I was jealous of your jammies and no longer smelled like vanilla.

ANYWAYS, long story not so short, myself and a ton of other awesome mom bloggers wrote a book called "I Just Want to Pee Alone." We are currently at the top of 3 Amazon best seller lists and itunes. We knocked Tina Fey out of #1. I love her immensely, but damn that felt good.

I, on behalf of all of us, would like to request that you read the book and tell us what you think. We LOVE your site and would be proud to be mentioned on it. You're probably thinking to yourself "There are over 30 women in this book and they asked THIS freak to contact me? Holy hell!" Yes. Yes they asked me. THAT is how we do it.

I'll be waiting for your email telling me that you've been thinking about me every day for 8 years. Don't be ashamed. I get that a lot.

xoxoxo,

Patti

I'll let you guys know when she calls.

And now, for the winner of my free, signed copy of the book. 

CARRIE COBURN!!! You won the book. I already rubbed it all up on The Cat's junk. I hope you don't mind. I will write something really fantastical inside of it and send you some Clorox wipes. I have sent you an email. Please email me back with 7 days or I will be gifting the book to someone else. THANK YOU and congratulations!

I will be giving another book away soon. Stay tuned for details. I haven't thought of the details yet or else I'd give you them now. Heck, I just now came up with idea to give away another book, so for Pete's sake of course I don't have any details yet. Calm the frick down!

LMTFA: It's fake serious business

When The Boy was a toddler I suffered through a long and serious bout of LMTFA. 

For those of you who aren't in the know, LMTFA (Leave Mom The Frick Alone - Syndrome) is a disorder in which the mother of one or more small children makes the critical and life-saving decision to pretend that she has an extreme irritable bowel disorder so that she can hand her child (or children) over to someone else and sit in the bathroom ALONE for endless amounts of time. The LMTFA sufferer usually spends this time reading, chatting on the phone, texting, Facebooking, or playing Angry Birds. The LMTFA sufferer NEEDS this time alone in order to keep her sanity after never-ending days of being endlessly touched, pulled, prodded, yelled at and cried on every damn day of her life. The LMTFA sufferer MUST have this time alone so that she will not lose her shit and end up selling her offspring on ebay to the first bidder. Or even worse, advertise them for tradesies on Craig's List in exchange for a few boxes of Girl Scout Cookies.

When I had LMTFA I read the complete works of Pat Conroy and Joyce Carol Oates, as well as countless issues of Entertainment Weekly and Us Magazine. Every time I read the "Stars: They're Just Like Us!" section in Us Magazine, I was hoping to see a photo of someone like Demi Moore sitting on her toilet reading some book about Kabbalah while one of her kids slips a piece of paper and a pack of Crayolas under the door and asks her to draw a rainbow. Let's get real here: The BS they put in that magazine about how so and so pumps their own gas or goes to the mall "just like us" is lame-o-rama. If they wanna make us think celebs are anything like us at all, they need to show Gwyneth's perfect little Apple pitching a fit in Whole Foods because she wants some freaking Toll House cookies instead of Quinoa. I'd also like to see Halle Berry's little angel throwing her body against the bathroom door with enough force to break her own bones, while Halle tries to drop a Deuce so that she can fit into her Oscar dress.

THIS is real life.

When The Boy was younger, I never got to poop or pee alone. And I'm the kinda person who, if you talk to me while I'm trying to go, it crawls back up. That's right. I've got potty stage fright. And back then I got interrupted at least 9 outta 10 times that I tried to go. It was worse than living in my college dorm and sharing a bathroom with 30 girls. I don't want an audience when I'm trying to drop the kids off at the pool. Bathroom time is my Zen time.

So, just like in college,  I would sneak off in the middle of the night and do my business in secret. Then, nearly every day as soon as The Hub would get home from work, I'd hand The Boy off and say "Thank God you're here! I've GOT to go to the bathroom! Something is really wrong!" and off I'd go to my library. The Hub would keep The Boy away from me because he was under the impression that there was some serious stuff going down in there. Occasionally he would come knock on the door and ask if I was okay, at which point I would make some moaning noises and say something like "It's not good. It's not good at all! Walk away! WALK AWAY!"

In reality I was usually just sitting on my throne, fully clothed, reading The Prince of Tides or an article about how Janet Jackson is addicted to coffee enemas. 

It may not seem like an honest thing to do, but it's what moms all over the world do on a daily basis. It's almost impossible to go to the bathroom when a little hand is desperately reaching under the crack in the bathroom door trying to touch your feet because if you are out of their sight for 5 seconds they might combust. When you have a child you usually can't even pee without someone walking in or screaming outside of the door. So we do what we have to do so that we can stay sane. And believe me, our husbands and kids need us to stay sane. We run shit. If we lose our marbles you're all screwed.

^^^^THAT, up there, is a long-winded roundabout Mom-Brainy way of telling you about the new book that myself, along with 36 other amazing mom bloggers, have written. The title is the most perfect title for a book by and for moms EVER in the history of book titles. That's just a fact. And I told you that story about my history with LMTFA so that you can contract a case of it and read this book from the comfort of your own throne.

I am thrilled to be in this book with so many funny women. Each of us has our own writing style and our own stories to tell, so there is totally something for everyone. We're all very proud of it, and super honored that Jen (from People I Want To Punch In The Throat) asked us to be a part of it. And guess what? The book is doing great so far. Check THIS out:

If you wanna order a copy you can do so HERE. That link includes all the different places you can get it. And while you're on Amazon, read the reviews. They're pretty good. If you read the book and like it PLEASE remember to give us a review and tell your friends. It REALLY REALLY REALLY helps us if you leave reviews and spread the word. Click the share button at the bottom of this post and Facebook it, Google + it, Tweet it, email it, Pinterest it, whatever. Word of mouth is everything.

This week I am giving away paperback copy with a special little note inside from me and a picture of me rubbing it all up on my booty. Okay. Maybe not that second part. Maybe I'll just have my unicorn, Lord Burgess Atwood, sprinkle it with the power of unicorn magics. Whatever floats your boat. To enter to win a copy, please comment on this blog with your FULL name and email address. I will pick a winner at random on Friday, March 15th, and announce the winner in my Friday Facebook Wrap-Up post. 

****Winners of last week's contest for the Zombie in a Bottle are: Lynn (no last name given), and My Train Has Jumped the Track. I have emailed you both. Please respond by Sunday, March 17th, or I will give the prizes to someone else****

Here is a list of all the amazing women who are in this book with me. Check them out.

People I Want to Punch in the Throat

Insane in the Mom Brain

The Divine Secrets of a Domestic Diva

Baby Sideburns

Rants From Mommyland

You Know it Happens at Your House Too

The Underachiever's Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess

My Life and Kids

Bad Parenting Moments

Let Me Start By Saying

Frugalista Blog

Suburban Snapshots

Ninja Mom

Four Plus an Angel

Honest Mom

Binkies and Briefcases

Naps Happen

Kelley's Break Room

Toulouse & Tonic

HouseTalkN

Hollow Tree Ventures

The Fordeville Diaries

Snarkfest

Mom's New Stage

Nurse Mommy Laughs

The Dose of Reality

The Mom of the Year

Life on Peanut Layne

Momaical

Cloudy, With a Chance of Wine

Confessions of a Cornfed Girl

I Love Them Most When They're Sleeping

Random Handprints
RachRiot

You're My Favorite Today

Funny is Family

My Real Life