Thursday, July 17, 2014

Book Cover Reveal: Stacey Gustafson's "Are You Kidding Me?"

     I am ridiculously happy to let you in on a little secret. My friend, Stacey Gustafson, has written a book! I met this funny lady last April at The Erma Bomback convention in Dayton, Ohio, and knew right away I'd met a kindred spirit. She's pretty much in the same stage of life that I am, so needless to say, we had a lot of laughs about our crazy family lives. Now that I've met Stacey and know how hilarious she is, I can't WAIT to read her new book, "Are You Kidding Me? My Life With an Extremely Loud Family, Bathroom Calamities, and Crazy Relatives."  Personally, she had me at the words, "Bathroom Calamities"!!! Here's a teaser about the book:

Hop into your minivan and get ready to cruise through the crazies of Suburbia! Humorist Stacey Gustafson makes an entertaining tour guide inAre You Kidding Me?, a brash, voyeuristic peek inside the topsy-turvy world of suburban motherhood, midlife madness, and all points in between. If you’ve ever called SWAT on a neighbor, faked a heart attack in church, or pulled your hair out while questioning the sanity of your family, Stacey’s tongue-in-cheek brand of humor will resonate with you. Enjoy the ride and don’t forget to fasten your seat belt. 


Doesn't this sound like some great reading with lots of laughter guaranteed? I can't wait to get my copy! Stacey's book will be released in the fall 2014. It will be available in eBook and print for your convenience.  You can also check out her funny blog site at: http://staceygustafson.com  Don't miss out on this one, folks! You're going to LOVE IT!



   

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writers Guest Post By: Rich Rumple

    It's always a special treat for me when I get to feature a male writer on my site, since most of my guests are mom bloggers. Please allow me to introduce you to my awesome WWW guest today---Rich Rumple of the blog by the same name: http://richrumple.blogspot.com!

    I met Rich last year in a Facebook writer's group, and after checking out out his blog, I KNEW I wanted to feature this funny man on my site. His dry wit and midlife humor is totally relatable to me. His post today put a big smile on my face because it sounds EXACTLY like something that would happen at my house. Hey, he mentions Hershey's chocolate. What's not to love?!? Please welcome the talented, witty, Rich Rumple to Meno Mama's site and leave him lots of comment love. Enjoy!
 


MATURE? HELL, WE'RE JUST GETTING OLD!              



I hit 60 last month.  No, not in golf … in age.


As I grow older, television advertising grows more and more ridiculous.  This barrage of idiocy has no let up as night after night sponsors do their best to prey on those brain dead from viewing too much reality television and copycat talent shows.

Yes, this type of programming is a favorite of my Alabama born, grits loving, bleached blonde wife.  (With those attributes, anyone from the South knows she immediately qualifies for a handicapped parking space and a free can of Skoal dip at any Dairy Mart below the Mason Dixon Line!)  So, I’m stuck watching them, too.  

Commercials become particularly aggravating as one grows older, as it is a pain to leave the room during them.  Simply too much effort is needed to raise one’s tail from the pleasures provided it by a soft recliner cushion.  Besides, energy levels drop as one ages.  My wife recognizes this from my reluctance to leave the room when gas needs to be released.  I just sit there and rock the jelly bean jar because of my desire to conserve my energy for more important things, like going to the fridge after another Diet Coke.

Yes, after thirty-four years of marriage, romance takes a back seat to farting.
Back to advertising!  (Sorry, I tend to get off track more these days as my ramblings push the walker with wheels down many forgotten paths.)

I, as a man, have no need to feel fresh in my crotch as some commercials proclaim so boldly.  I realize that this must be a woman thing, but I do remember days when I visited that area upon occasion before sex was an activity to only be fondly remembered.  Seriously, if I’d ever visited the magic “V” and found a springtime freshness awaiting me, I’d probably grab a can of weed killer thinking I was in the wrong place and spray away before I caught poison ivy!  Either that or Raid … which I found out long ago in college really did work effectively when I got a case of the crabs from a State Fair Queen and had no money to go to the doctor for treatment.



Oops … rambling again.


Commercials that are supposed to make fat people skinny tend to irk me off, too.  I mean, the easiest way to lose weight is to stop eating.  There’s a survival show called “Naked and Afraid” where they strip down a man and a woman to the stubs and nubs and leave them in the wilderness for twenty-one days.  It never fails, the woman always loses about 15 pounds during that time, and the man around 25 pounds.  (Which shows you that men really do have about ten more pounds of crap in them than women!)  They don’t need any type of a diet pill that can cause nausea, headaches, loss of balance, possible loss of consciousness, elevated blood pressure, and/or diarrhea.  They just don’t eat!  Amazing how that always seems to be the answer, isn’t it?

In college, I recall running five miles every morning and every evening, as well as having a strong sit-up and toe touch regiment.  It was the only time in my life I actually had a six pack ab area.  In addition, living off campus at the time, my food allowance was almost non existent, especially with the price of Raid.  Exercise and little to no food makes one lose weight.  (Raid will also end one’s relationship with partners dedicated to oral sex!)

I’ve really got to stop rambling.

All of the male enhancement product commercials are completely unnecessary, too! First, I believe there’s a reason old men find it time to stay soft.  Think about it.  If picturing your grandparents getting it on turns you off, imagine what it does to them seeing each other in person!  

And, when you get older and become grandparents, playing various bedroom games can be dangerous.  I wonder how many bones have been broken tripping over lassoes and spurs and falling off the dresser trying to catch the other one running around the room!  Envision your nude grandfather lying there, with a drug induced erection, screaming, “I’ve fallen and I got it up!”

No, sex for the elderly is something my wife has decided is not for us.  She keeps saying, “What if you have a heart attack and die during it?”  

My response is simple.  “Just keep going and enjoy it.  You’ll probably have three or four hours left if the pill lives up to its promises!”

She doesn’t have much energy left these days either.  

No, my wife has decided we’re done with sex.  Hard to believe sex will never happen again.  I’m going to miss it, but I guess I can always watch my neighbors through the busted blind on the left side of their bedroom window.  (Don’t ask me how I know about that!)  

Oh well, there’s always Hershey’s Chocolate and Almond Nuggets to take its place!  

I must say, though, there is some interest in finding out what it would be like to have a four hour erection.  Don’t know what I’d do with it, but at least I could say it happened!

Maybe I could go to Walmart and stand next the fruit section singing, “Oh yes, I have a banana. I have a banana today!”

My wife doesn’t like that line.  I’m not surprised.  She wouldn’t know what to do with a four hour erection either.  She’d probably have me stand next to her while she was ironing so she’d have someplace to hang my shirts.

Damn … rambling again!

Time to say goodbye.  Since this is a guest post I’ll make it shorter than I usually do on my own blog.  I’ve probably scared away half of the regular readers by now anyway.

Either that, or they’re all gathering at Walmart in the fruit section.

See you all there soon!

Ciao!



BIO:

Rich Rumple is a published author of multiple Sales Training and Customer Retention manuals, as well as several short stories and countless newspaper articles.  In addition, he wrote and created a stand-up comedy act of which he successfully performed for years onstage.  Having lived in nine different states and several years in Europe, he now seeks a home where the locals will permit him to stay, instead of running him out of town with blazing torches and sharpened pitchforks.  Boarding his personal rocket for the world of creativity with cigarettes and Diet Coke in hand, he allows his fantasies to run wild and his mind can only follow, sometimes.  You can find his humorous rantings and ravings at http://richrumple.blogspot.com/.

Friday, July 11, 2014

As Seen On TV…...

     We've all seen those late night commercials that advertise products we can't live without. Gadgets that some lucky joker invented in the basement of his home with scissors, duct tape and a broken fan. My gut reaction to these commercials is always the same: WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?!? I've gotten sucked into these ads more times than I care to admit, and I have a closet full of weird junk to prove it. Right now they're collecting dust in a pile labeled, "Garage Sale Crap" that I need to foist on some other bargain hunting sucker.

     I'm going to save you some time and money by sharing my experiences on these generic, off-brand items with you. And yes, you're welcome.


GINFOO KNIFE SET

     When you first get your knives, they're sharp enough to cut through a rock. But after using them to whittle logs into miniature chipmunks for your novelty store, they won't cut through a tomato. Or a mattress tag.


GREY ROOTS BE GONE

     Be careful how you use this product. Don't spray it directly on your head in a rush or else you'll end up looking like you've been dunked in tar or be mistaken for a startled ferret.

CLEAN NEW

     This is designed to wipe clean your car, not your backside. If you're using it in the bathroom, chances are you thought you ordered a similarly named product, "Clean Poo." ***Never order items from an 800 number when you've been drinking or if your eye glasses are missing.

CANKLE GENIE

     This genie may support your cankles fine, but if you rub it several times, don't expect it to grant you three wishes.

MAGNETIC WAISTBAND EXTENDERS

     These are great if you've gained a little weight, but be wary of walking through an airport scanner. You'll end up with a pat down that will either make your day or leave you feeling dirty.

SNUGGLE BUGGLE 

     Everybody deserves a comfortable, Snuggle Buggle blanket/robe, but a word of warning: if your Snuggle is brown, don't wear it out in public or else people will think you're a monk.

SAMPOW 

     This is more like a SamPad missing the Pow. Too small to do any good, unless you like cleaning with a rag the size of a moist towelette.

JAMMY JEANS

     You can go to church in them and shop in them, but these comfy pants still need a button fly in the front for easy access, especially if you're a guy. Think of the funny looks a man will get when he has his jammy jeans pooling at his ankles while peeing in a sports stadium urinal.

PIGGLY WIGGLY BOWL

     Everything tastes better wrapped in bacon, right? Obviously the inventor of Piggly Wiggly Bowl thought so, too. But he forgot two things: to include a free cholesterol test and a warning that excessive use will cause rapid weight gain. I'm thinking this product needs to be renamed, "Heart Attack in a Bowl."

BIG PEOPLE WEARABLE ANIMALS 

     If you've ever wanted to crawl inside a stuffed animal and become one with it, this is the product for you. The ad states that these outfits are comfortable enough for casual dress, but this also means you can't wear them to a wedding, funeral or a bat mitzvah. Chances are your boss will not appreciate it if you show up to work dressed as a giant wombat, either, unless Fridays have been designated as Casual Animal Dress Day.

SEED PET HEAD

     These seeds in a clay pot grow a 1970's afro faster than you can say the word "groovy." They require a weekly visit to a hairdresser, but thank God they don't need to be scheduled for a Brazilian wax.

MIRACLE GUT GIRDLE 

     Think you can gorge on chicken wings and pizza for weeks but hide the evidence of your weight gain with a Miracle Gut Girdle? Think again. If you throw the contraption into the dryer, it'll come out four sizes smaller and cut off your circulation when you wear it. My husband claims that the restrictive fabric compressed his stomach so much that his testicles swelled three times their normal size. The upside? He's thinking his globes will make great lawn ornaments next Christmas.


     These commercials all promise that their products are the best $19.99 you'll ever spend. But wait! If you order now, you too, can eat your cholesterol-induced Piggly Wiggly Bowl while dressed as a platypus. And you'll never have to worry about gray root growth again!



***This week you can catch more Meno Mama on Midlife Boulevard, where my very first article on menopause is featured! Here's the link: http://midlifeboulevard.com/symptoms-of-menopause 






   



Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writers Guest Post By: Witfaced

     I am beyond thrilled to introduce you to today's WWW guest! Say hello to Amy Sherman of Witfaced! I feel very fortunate to have met Amy at the ERMA 2014 convention last April and let me tell you, this lady is FUNNY!!! She's also very kind and sweet to everyone she meets. I adore her and admire her unique sense of humor. Not only is Amy an exceptional writer, she also does a killer stand-up routine that I was lucky enough to see at the convention. She had everyone there in stitches and I knew immediately that this talented woman was bound for a successful career in the world of comedy.

     Please welcome the lovely and hilarious Amy Sherman to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love!


QUIZ WHIZ


FB personality quizzes. Love them? Hate them? Have a life and never heard of them?

They are total bunk, yet I read the designated answer that applies to me so intensely you would think I just spent an hour with my shrink and was getting actual feedback. (Like that ever happens.)  

When some of these ridiculous quizzes pop up in my feed, I berate myself for participating, while anticipating how accurate each one will be. Because, honestly? I love to read about me. I love to simplify me. I. Love. Me. And isn’t that what all these quizzes are all about?

I have no idea who programs the algorithms that lead to the selected Disney Princess (Jasmine), my mental age (12), or  Which World Cup Player Should I Hook Up With, but the questions are as fascinating as the answers. And I have to make choices. Sometimes hard ones. Like choosing between red wine, white wine, sangria, gin & tonic, or a margarita, for a First Date preference. I drink Tito’s and vodka isn’t even on the list! I worry how each click will affect my final result. It’s unnerving.

BTW, I have to book a flying carpet to Poland or Germany because I got World Cup player, Lukas Podolski. (Never heard of him.) I hope he likes mentally-underaged-girls, in middle-aged bodies, that believe they are some type of animated Princess.
Fuck it. I’ll probably just hook up with the whole damn team. I mean, if I’m going to all that trouble, I may as well make it worth my while. My 12-year-old mind assures me I’ll be fine, and my 59-year-old body knows the score, so I’m jumping onto my hand-loomed rug and heading to Europe. Maybe I’ll get a yellow card. At least I hope something gets fouled.
When I return, I will be taking my own quiz, personally developed to help everyone better understand themselves. Feel free to pass it around. That’s what quizzes and STD’s are for. You’re welcome.
Which STD are you?”  
LET’S PLAY!

Which is you favorite color?

a. Purple
b. White
c. Red
d. Yellow


Red
Syphilis: You are often mistaken for someone else. You can be rash in judging others. If you neglect yourself for too long, you may not be able to recover. Don’t get sore, get help. You’re considered pretty old-fashioned and penicillin is your best friend. You are actually more benign than you think and should be grateful to be recognized early and often.

Yellow
HPV: You are not unique in any way. You are quite social, but sometimes wish you were more discerning. You love meeting friends for a little shopping and Chardonnay. Your main philosophy in life is, “Who cares? I just wanna have fun.”  And you did. And here you are, wishing you had been born after a good stiff shot (in the arm, not down your throat) could have made a difference.

White
Herpes: You are quick to share. You are generally calm, but occasionally your temper flares up and you express yourself with blistering diatribes. Regardless, you remain an incurable romantic. (Incurable being the operative word.) Don’t be the butt of everyone’s jokes, just be happy to spread the wealth.

Purple
HIV: You like to fly under the radar, have anal tendencies, and prefer to lie dormant until you absolutely must reveal yourself. Some people are afraid of you, while others think they are not even within your reach. Don’t let that stop you from becoming close with others. Just choose your friends carefully and try to have a bigger impact on your sworn enemies. They kind of have it coming.



BIO:

Amy Hartl Sherman is a writer, poet, cartoonist and humorist. She is a graduate of the University of Illinois with a B.S. in Communications, an improv comedian, and a retired flight attendant. Amy currently resides in Glen Ellyn, Illinois with her husband, a parakeet missing one toe, a Chihuahua, and a parakeet-toe-chomping Dachshund. Her sons escaped unharmed. You can read her blog Witfaced here: http://www.witfaced.com

Friday, July 4, 2014

Aviation Traumatization

    
     While everyone is out enjoying the holiday weekend, I'll be hunched over my computer with pages of edits to complete on my upcoming book, "Who Stole My Spandex." Well, not just that….I'll also be sipping champagne on the beach while the fireworks are lighting up the night sky.  In the meantime, I thought I'd share with you one of my earlier posts that was featured on In The Powder Room awhile back. I wrote it in honor of all my friends hopping on planes for their summer vacations. You won't see me doing any plane hopping this summer. Here's why:




      I don't fly. Ever. But I used to. I come from a family of avid travelers and grew up with parents who, for some sadistic reason, thought it would be fun to drag four kids on a jumbo jet each summer to every national park known to mankind. While my siblings enjoyed these little forays into vacation hell, I was the nerdy kid popping Dramamine like Tic Tacs before boarding a flight. I learned at an early age to control my fears and my sphincter muscles in order to avoid an unexpected accident on aisle five.
By the time I got married, I was a seasoned flyer. It still gave me a nervous stomach, but at least I was no longer white-knuckling a barf bag during takeoff.

Things changed once my kids were born. I started questioning that pesky mortality thing and feared my babies would end up motherless like Bambi. It didn't help that I was a sucker for all those airplane crash documentaries either, but I believed my phobia was validated after a few hair-raising experiences of my own. No amount of Xanax, vodka, or cocktail peanuts was going to get me back up in the skies.

My fear of flying has been compounded by the Bermuda Triangle, which is only a mile off the coast where I live. Many flights out of Ft. Lauderdale circle over this mysterious patch of the Atlantic Ocean where dozens of planes have fallen off the radar and disappeared. There's a reason it's nicknamed the Devil's Triangle, and the idea of becoming fish food or part of an Unsolved Mysteries episode just doesn't appeal to me. I prefer to think those planes detoured through the Twilight Zone to Gilligan's Island.

Beyond the frightening takeoff and landing aspect of flying, the plane itself is a claustrophobic's nightmare. Being herded like cattle into a steel contraption that resembles a giant MRI tube is not my idea of fun. Nor is fitting my ass into those narrow seats, then needing the Jaws of Life to get out. The oxygen masks above should drop down automatically every time someone farts on a flight. And every overhead bin should be equipped with a mini-bar to relax phobic flyers.

Airplane bathrooms are another issue to contend with while flying forty-five thousand feet in the air. Forget being inducted into the Mile High Club. Every time the plane hits a pocket of turbulence and drops a few hundred feet, so do my bowels. I have an irrational fear that of I sit too long on an airplane toilet, my ass will get sucked out into the stratosphere. I think this was the start of my Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

The only way you're going to coax me into a flight today is if you promise me a bottle of rum and a first class seat ... next to Johnny Depp. If the plane nosedives into the Devil's Triangle, hopefully I'll be transported to Gilligan's Island.
     
      If you need to find me, I'll be the one sipping Pina Coladas in the tiki hut with Johnny Depp.



****Originally published by In The Powder Room under the title The Reason I'm Not In The Mile High Club in November 2013. Reprinted with permission.  


********Want more MENO MAMA? I'm over at Huffington Post TWICE this week! Whoo-Hoo!! First, I'm sharing my list of things I will never do on summer vacation. The second  feature on Huff Post is about empty nesting--what else?!? I'm also featured on Scary Mommy with a more serious post--"A Letter To My Younger Self." You can find all three sites here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marcia-kester-doyle-/things-not-to-do-in-summer_b_5523838.html   http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marcia-kester-doyle-/from-empty-nest-to-full-house_b_5538248.html  http://www.scarymommy.com/to-my-younger-self


Thursday, July 3, 2014

Scary Mommy Feature

    Hi All! I'm featured over on Scary Mommy today and would LOVE for everyone to stop by if you have time. PLEASE splash the link all over social media--this post was difficult for me to write and has a message that needs to be shared.  Here's the link: http://www.scarymommy.com/to-my-younger-self   and a teaser from the Scary Mommy site:


    You probably don't recognize me with these little lines around my eyes and a figure that went south after giving birth to five children. There's nothing to be ashamed of here; these lines by my eyes came from years of laughter and the scars on my belly are a badge of motherhood I proudly wear.
 
     When you get into high school, stop worrying so much about what other people think and be who you want to be, not who you think your peers expect you to be. Embrace your individuality---it will be the ticket to your success one day.


****For more, go to the Scary Mommy site at: http://www.scarymommy.com/to-my-younger-self

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writers Guest Post By: Abandoning Pretense

     Oh, do I have a treat for you this week on my WWW guest series! My Wacky Wednesday Writers GUEST is the incredibly funny Kristen Mae of Abandoning Pretense! Kristen is a fellow Florida gal and I'm hoping that sooner or later we'll be able to meet up and share some gossip and giggles over a cup of coffee. In the meantime, I get to laugh over her hilarious and heartwarming blog posts. While sharing the uncensored truth about marriage, parenthood and life, Kristen is making a name for herself on popular sites such as Scary Mommy, Bluntmoms, Mamapedia and Mamalode. I predict it won't be long before this talented writer comes out with a book. And when she does, it will be a roaring success!

     Please welcome Kristen to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love!


Skinny-shaming Is NOT The Same As Fat-shaming


It seems like every other day I stumble across another article purporting that skinny-shaming is just like fat-shaming. These articles are written by skinny people who were traumatized by some ignoramus who called them “bean-pole” or accused them of being anorexic. While I don’t condone name-calling with regards to body shape, I have to say, I really don’t think these skinny people “get it.”
I’m probably going to get called out for skinny-shaming by writing this, but hear me out, okay? Especially if you’re skinny and you’re mad about skinny-shaming. First of all, I’m sorry if someone said something mean to you because that’s totally not cool, but seriously, really? Please don’t say skinny-shaming is the same as fat-shaming or that being too skinny is just as sucky as being too fat. Because it’s so totally not.
First of all, society looks at “too fat” and “too skinny” completely differently. People who are too skinny get: Freak of nature. Genetic lottery. Skinny bitch. Okay, none of those things actually sound like compliments but here’s what people who are fat get: Loser. Pig. Disgusting. Lack of will-power.
Society recognizes one as being out of the person’s control and the other as being a lack of self-control. Nobody looks at a skinny person and thinks, “What an idiot for letting herself get like that,” or “Geez, how could she do that to herself?” People think that kind of thing all the time about overweight people. So please let’s not pretend like being too skinny is just as undesirable as being too fat.
I don’t know why I’m getting so defensive on behalf of heavy women. I’m not even overweight. And by the way, I actually do believe it’s every person’s responsibility to take care of their body. I do think when a person is overweight that they “did it to themselves.” I’m merely asserting that fat and skinny aren’t equally sucky adjectives, and to be blessed with skinniness and be able to eat whateverthefrickyouwant all the time is something that should never be taken for granted, and certainly not complained about.
I know, because although I’m not overweight, I’ve always flirted with the upper-most boundary of my recommended BMI in spite of living a healthier-than-average lifestyle. I exercise two or three times per week, I eat a nutritious, mostly-organic diet, I don’t eat much sugar and I never drink soda. My guilty pleasures are coffee (three cups per day, okay I guess that’s kind of a lot), chocolate-chip cookies maybe once a month (but seriously half a freakin batch at one time), and a glass of wine (or four) here and there. My weight has been fairly static at 145. (I’m 5’4”.) Not fat. Just… almost fat. One batch of chocolate-chip cookies away from fat.
BUT DAMMIT, I WANNA EAT MY FRIGGIN CHOCOLATE-CHIP COOKIES AND NOT GET FAT!
And that really is the crux of this issue: If you’re super-skinny and someone calls you a skeleton, you can go drown your sorrows in a tub of icecream without exacerbating your problem. A fat (or even almost-fat) person doesn’t have that luxury. In fact, once a person is overweight, all they have to do is look at a cupcake and they gain weight. (When I eat my half-batch of chocolate-chip cookies I swear I gain five pounds by the next day. How is that even possible when half a batch of cookies doesn’t even weigh five pounds???) No, if an overweight person wants to drown their sorrows in anything, they’d better find something that doesn’t involve food at all.
And that’s where another big misconception lies: many people think that when a fat person goes on a diet it’s like, “Okay, I’m going to stop eating two whole pizzas per day and I’ll cut down from a two-liter of Pepsi to just one can – and VOILA - I just lost fifty pounds!” Okay sometimes that really is how it happens, especially for the initial chunk of weight that comes off. But after that, a fat person is eating the same as everyone else and either not losing or actively gaining weight. WTF is that all about???
And sometimes they’re torturing the shit out of themselves eating a f*cking salad while everyone else noshes on cheeseburgers and tacos, and I’m sorry but it’s so totally not fair that the quick metabolism people get to partake in yumminess while the fat people stand on the sidelines nibbling a goddam stalk of celery. SO NOT FAIR.
Maybe I just like food too much.
Skinny-people-who-are-angry-about-skinny-shaming, I understand you don’t want to be called names. Who does? But just please give all the slow metabolism people a break and let’s stop staying skinny-shaming and fat-shaming are the same thing, okay? Because they’re not. I’m not mad at you and I really hope I didn’t make you feel bad; I just want you to understand.

But in the event that I did inadvertently stab you in the feelings with my sharp words, I must ask that while you’re sobbing over your freshly-baked batch of chocolate-cookies, please eat a few of those little hunks of heaven for me. I can’t, because I’m still working on losing the five pounds I gained last month when I glanced at the cupcakes at my niece’s birthday party.


BIO:
When Kristen Mae isn’t running absurdly long distances, washing poop out of her dog’s butt-hair, or taming her two booger-machines, she’s tossing her expensive master’s of music performance degree out the window by feverishly attacking her “writing career.” Kristen is the voice of Abandoning Pretense, where she tells the whole, uncensored truth about marriage, parenthood, and life. In addition to her blog, Mae shares hilarious and heart-warming tidbits of her life on her Facebook page, Google+, Twitter and Pinterest, and is also a regular contributor at ScaryMommy.com, Bluntmoms.com, Mamapedia.com and Mamalode.com.


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