Sexy Halloween costumes

Sexy is going down today, and not in a good way. 

When did every woman's Halloween costume get preceded by the adjective "sexy?" The Wicked Witch of the West's hemline has traveled well north of her green knees, and Halloween parties are now littered with sexy kittens, sexy devils, sexy nurses, and any profession or animal that can be tramped up. I've even seen sexy Bert & Ernie costumes, for the love of Sesame Street.

Until I see a whole gaggle of Magic Mikes shivering in their cock socks and bow ties, I'm sticking with my pregnant nun getup. Stop looking like you're turning tricks when you're trick or treating, baby doll, or I'm going to have to tighten your kittycat corset until you toss your candy corn. Meow.

(photo: completelybonkers.co.uk)

Hurricane names

Chris, Debby, Florence, Patty, Nadine…

I don't know about you but hurricane names sound more like what you'd find on nametags at a PTA potluck, rather than a vicious tropical cyclone. They don't exactly put the fear of 80-mile winds in you, do they?

Hurricane Sandy isn't a cause for a state of emergency, it's cause for a makeover, preferably by Rizzo. If Hurricane Rizzo hit the East Coast, you'd better believe that I'd run for fucking cover.

The World Meteorological Organization and National Hurricane Center need to get some new baby books, preferably ones with badass names like Spike, Rocco, JR, T-Bone. Better get, I propose that we substitute roller-derby names for these milquetoast monikers. Helen Wheels, Dora the Destroyer, Naomi Cannibal—shutters would be nailed down and the coastline would be evacuated in record time.

(photo: geology.com)

Unsalted nuts

Auntie Mame wisely observed that “Life's a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!” Well, I’d amend that to say that, in 2012, life’s a banquet and most poor suckers are eating unsalted nuts on their way to their CrossFit class.

Like a dinner roll, nuts are a vehicle for something else. Rolls need to be buttered and my nuts need to be salted. Come to think of it, my buttered rolls need to be salted, too.

These days, many diets sing the praises of nuts, saying they are great sources of protein and energy. So I snack. Trader Joe’s trail mixes, almonds, pistachios—these all have a place in my laptop or workout bag.

But whether or not I’m sweating out the sodium and electrolytes, I need salty nuts. Yes, I meant to say that. Salt in any form is necessary to enjoy a handful of toasted pecans or a schmear of almond butter.

Eschew the raw cashew and unsalted pistachio. They may provide fuel but so do packets of GU energy gel and you don’t see me squeezing that stuff into my gob, do you? I want to enjoy every single thing I put into my mouth, not munch on boring, flavorless nuts in the name of health. I may be fit, but unsalted nuts make me sick. I’m bringing some flavor back into my life, one honey-roasted peanut at a time.

(photo: ifyouwriteit.com)

The SoCal Punch Party post-mortem

Awesome things I’ve heard this weekend during the SoCal Punch Parties that others want to punch in the face:

• Drum solos (particularly while trying to talk post-Punch Party over dinner. The irony that a jazz combo followed the Punch Party is not lost on me)
• The marketing campaign for the Hollywood Bowl: There’s a story in every seat. Um, that’s probably not all that’s in that seat.
• The hope industry: that weekend screenwriting seminar by that dude with zero credits on IMDB is probably not going to net you a development deal.
• Microsoft Tech Support
• The trendiness of “toxins”
• The treacly names of political memoirs
• The amateur peleton. You don’t need to draft behind each other to bike to the office
• Cyclists who wear their ridiculous jerseys and neon spandex shorts everywhere and clack into Peet’s with their clip-ins like those raptors in Jurassic Park
• People who bring all the ingredients to a potluck and start making their dish from scratch
• People who ask you to bring the main dish to the potluck because you’re such a good cook (when they only bring leftover brownies)
• Food restrictions. Gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free = taste-free
• Unsalted nuts. Fuck that shit

The list goes on and on, but sadly, my memory doesn’t. Thanks everyone for coming out and sharing your wit and wisdom!

(photo: flickriver.com)

Big wheels keep on turning...

It's been a, ahem, full few weeks promoting TIWTPITF. And we're far from done! In Seattle, we've hosted two amazing Punch Parties with loads of talented people showing up to read their own rants and play a saucy game of "Punch in the Face or Make Out With." Last night, as part of Seattle's Lit Crawl, I was on a Funny Ladies panel reading a Seattle-specific Punch in the Face rant. Needless to say, it was high-larious (as were all of the other talented women on the panel).

But wait, there's more!

I'm now in Southern California for a weekend of punch-drunk love. Bring a rant to tomorrow's Punch Party at Vidiots Annex or Sunday's Punch Party at The York in Highland Park. Things get under way at both venues at 6pm. Bring a friend, bring a diatribe, bring yourself! If you're interested in coming out and punching something, here's the deal:

• I'll introduce you briefly (let me know if there's anything I should mention; I'm all for promoting your stuff too!)
• You'll read your own PITF (loudly, with feeling and hopefully with wild gesticulations)
• Your PITF should be a couple of paragraphs or about 200 words, so we can make sure everyone who wants to share has time (if you really need to get something off your chest and take 10 minutes, so be it; I won't bring out the hook)
• I don't need to see your PITF in advance
• It will be fun! 

And if you're in Seattle or Portland, never fear. Punch Parties are coming your way on October 26 (Queen Anne Books in Seattle) and November 9 (Powells at Cedar Hills Crossing, Beaverton). 

With the holidays breathing down our necks, now is the time to ease the pain by picking up signed copies of TIWTPITF for your stocking stuffers, hostess gifts and Secret Santa presents. It really does have something for everyone.

Check out all my upcoming events here.

(photos: At the U Bookstore Punch Party; My publisher Colleen Dunn Bates and I checking out the book at Urban Outfitters)

The Giving Tree

I can't decide who's the bigger asshole: The tree or the kid.

In thinking about this since my childhood (I wanted to punch Shel Silverstein's classic in the face even then), I have never figured out what all the precious fuss was about.

While some claim this book is about unconditional love, to me it smacks of a cautionary tale heard over and over again in twelve-step programs. In addition to being a playmate (branches to swing on), a protector (shielding the kid from harmful rays), a provider (offering up its fruit for food, branches for a house, and trunk for a boat), and a stool (finally a stump), The Giving Tree is a sap.

Plus, the tree is female, which makes her continual sacrifice to this knob even more annoying and questionable.

Might I suggest that this parable serve as a lesson to all the other anthropomorphic trees and shrubs out there. Set some boundaries, learn to say no, and get your Serenity Prayer on. Accept that you can't change greedy, thoughtless little shits, muster up some courage to change your behavior and drop an apple on his head, and get wise to his ways. That's the path to happy, joyous, and tree.

Another goodreads giveaway!

Goodreads is giving away another 5 copies of Things I Want to Punch in the Face! Enter by Oct. 21 for a chance to win a copy and cross another person off your holiday list! Get on it!