by Andrea Mulder-Slater
And boom! Just like that it's 2015.
Meanwhile, if you were one of the
The heart of the matter
I dedicate this post to hypochondriacs everywhere. Please hop on the anxiety bus and live vicariously through me. But watch your toes. No reason.
If you can't take the heat, bathe in bamboo juice
Never let them smell your sweat. Speaking of which, what's that stench? Oh, never mind.
As I look back on 2014, I realize that animals and feces were a recurring theme in my writing. Here I tie those elements together, wrap them up and deliver them in one big package. You're welcome. Also, bears.
Mushrooms aren't the only things that get mixed up
This is not at all about what you think it's about. Then again, maybe it is.
He's a doctor and he plays one on tv (or the big screen, whichever).
Here's where I reveal which major motion picture star inspected my epidermis.
These run on sentences have been written for writers. And mothers.
If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times... Writing is like waiting for a baby to fill its diaper.
A poem for Opa
A lot of you liked this ode to poultry, which I penned approximately 34 years ago. Too bad y'all didn't know me then. I think I may have been a hoot.
Click. Flick. Flush. Repeat.
Read all about how the flu caught me, kicked me in the back of the knee, cracked a walnut on my temple and knocked me flat on my back. This is riveting stuff.
Peep goes the weasel
Remember that time when I was stalked by a bloodthirsty ermine?
The crow caws at 5am
Of course this was my most read post of the year. I mean, it's about a deranged animal trying to get into my house. This is the shit that horror movies are made of. But don't take my word for it...