Thanks for buying my e-book, How to Get Your Humor Published! It’s always great to meet a fellow writer. Getting published is easy; all it takes is a little jar of elbow grease, this e-book and a computer.

Like me, I’m sure you’ve heard it over and over again: “The only way to become a great writer is to keep writing” or “there are no shortcuts in life” or “you can’t be a writer, you’re helplessly illiterate.” I assure you, these are nothing but ludicrous things parents tell their children before bed and after college.

You have access to a thesaurus and a checking account, there’s no reason your humor shouldn’t be published.

I’ve been slowly adding to Annie’s strange family dynamic ever since I blessed her with insanity way back when. Dinners like this can only happen in the winter, when Annie’s parents are around. She throws open all the windows, piles snow along the walls, and cooks a nice spaghetti dinner. Luckily, the cold also helps Robot Ben operate at maximum efficiency, and his conversations are a lot better than his usual repertoire of quotations from John C. Reilly movies and early episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Have you ever been so excited it hurts? Then I guess you understand how I feel right now. Because my husband just told me we’re getting a new mailbox. That’s right, freaks. I said MAILBOX. As in, that philatelic hot spot in front of your house where the letters come and go. Six days a week. Rain or shine. And not just letters but other mail too. Like utility bills. And pre-approved credit card offers. And random flyers from guys who paint. Sometimes a fat wad of Valpak coupons even creeps up in there. Hell yes it does!

Dear Jonathan, I’m still pissed off I didn’t get an iPad for Christmas. What are some things you wanted for Christmas that your parents didn’t get you because they were bastards?   There were three things I consistently asked for Christmas when I was growing up: a good book, a pony and a cape. I

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We’ve had some bitter cold days here in the DC area (not as many as I would like, and certainly not enough snow, but whatever). What boggles my mind is all the professional women around here that wait for buses and subways in skirts. Short skirts. And not skirts with stockings or boots or anything else that would come between their skin and the weather. I don’t know how they do it. I don’t know why they do it. But it just seems like madness.