Seriously, I want to know how this girl got my life.
She and her husband and her kid lives in D.C. (probably in a crappy studio a half block from a decent takeout restaurant) with her fun friends, her drunken adventures and her position as tsar of the mom blogs. The day she writes about her son's addiction to Elmo, I'm writing about my hatred for Caillou. She's funny, but let's face it, she's no Iwan. Nobody can out self-deprecate me. Nobody.
Maybe she's super hot. Or more likely, she's not afraid of other people.
Whatever. These days aren't so bad really. I just got a ton of freelance assignments from the local magazines, including TC Style, which is glossy and super pretty and will feature my snapshot and bio. I'm up for suggestions on how to describe myself because I'm pretty sure the readers of this magazine aren't interested in my blog, my stroller or the parks within one square mile of my house, the only things I devote any time to.
The day I got the assignment, I also got a bill for car repairs for the exact amount I’ll make.
But really, who needs a new haircut when you don’t even get out of your pajamas until, um, 12:55.
I knew there was a reason I’m not blog queen.
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