An oldie but goodie about Slider, the thespian.
Even though I hate clothes shopping, our mother/daughter trips have always been amazing.
The traditional 18th anniversary gift makes me question how this next year of wedded bliss might go.
In which I trip into a trash TV phase and review it 8 months after it was released.
In which a coroner and fake coke fiend walk into The Field while Private Ryan is away.
In which I introduce my personal experience with imposter syndrome (before really explaining it).
In which I promise to show support to an online stranger by writing about myself a lot. Makes sense.
In which we all come down with "chapped lips" and no one thinks Private Ryan is a gangster.
In which gunpowder and grumpiness rule the day.
In which Fed Ex Express (and people who drive Tahoes) incur my very hot, very hangry wrath.