Old Typepad blog posts added

Hi Everyone,

Blog housekeeping here. Just letting y’all know I finally imported EVERYTHING from the old Typepad blog over to this site, so check out the Archives and the Categories for my previous adventures and nonsense. For those of you new to the site, I’ve been blogging for over 10 years. Several of those years are now in the Archives (only as far back as 2008 were saved, so you have a lot to catch up on).

Also, it you look at the Menu, you will see a button called BLOG. If you click that button, you will be able to read the blog in its entirety without having to go to the Archives. Everything is there, in order – just click the “next” button for more.

dear diary

A story, but first…


Back in the day (which spans the mid 80s to the mid 90s), I kept a journal.  When I was about 11, it was a real deal diary complete with lock and key, where I wrote about goings on in 6th grade and my infatuation with a boy named Allen.  By 8th grade it was John and writing about making friends and losing friends and music. There was always music.  In high school I amassed a collection of journals — sometimes marbled composition notebooks, hard-backed book journals, random notebooks — almost any bound paper would do.  

And in those journals I tucked away every thought, emotion, and experience.  First date, first kiss, first heartbreak.  First love, first dark place, first lies.  There were names named and there were things written in a way that only I knew what I meant.  There were pages of poetry, stream of consciousness, well-thought out plans, drawings, song lyrics, letters never sent, and lots of wishes.   I wrote for the school paper, for the city newspaper, and for myself.  Writing for myself, in my journals was always where I felt most at home, using my voice, where there were no rules.  

It was probably 1994 when I gave up journal writing.  By then I was writing papers on dead authors in college. Nothing quite kills an expressive writer like writing about dead writers.

In 2003, I was a mom of a two-year old and needed to send pictures of the munchkin to family, so instead of doing what a normal woman would do, I started a website.  In 2003 there was no such thing as "mommy bloggers."  I posted pictures of the kid and wrote about my life in Canada, my book club, play dates, and snow.

At some point I made the switch from the website to Blogspot, then to Wordpess, then to Typepad.  And at some point I started posting fewer things about mom life and more about my life.  I suppose that's when the blog turned into my journal, where once again there were no rules.  I cared more about writing and entertaining myself than entertaining my family members, which is when other people started reading. Writing is a great form of communication, an outlet, and a way of life for me.  A lot of you get that.  Maybe you kept journals back in the day too.  

So, friends and interwebs strangers, thanks for being there through a difficult week, when I needed to write to feel a connection.  The Facebook notes have been great.  But seriously, no inspirational quotes, I can't take it.  

If I sound jaded it's only because I am.  And I say that with love.  

Love your guts,


writing about what I know

So, I thought I would let y'all know about something I've been up to.  Well, one of the things I've been up to, as I'm usually up to something, most of which I can't talk about.  I'm writing for Examiner.com.  What?  You think I just write on this blog for my health?  Nope.  

I was always taught to write about what I know, so I'm writing about plus-size fashion.  I have a little experience with that subject.  This is my page on Examiner, where I have written two articles so far with more to come.  Next I may do an article on getting The Joan Look from Mad Men.  I'm not sure if that's next, but it's definitely coming up.  

Anyway, if posts here are slow, check my page there for fun.  Be good.

there was a supposed to be a post today

There was supposed to be a post today, but someone who has been tolt – yes, I said TOLT – not to use my laptop navigated away from the Compose Page and the post was a-lost.  

What was going to be here was pure Pulitzer Blog Prize winning gold.  It was like Hemingway and the writers of Dynasty had a baby blog and it was beautiful, but it smoked cigars and cursed.  A lot.  Oh well.

just for fun

Just for fun, here are the top keyword searches (and a couple of the oddest) people have used to land on this here blog in June (so far).

my breast friend 

a plastic separator between her boobs

"can't accessorize for shit" movie

kerry faler

50 ways to use feminine hygiene products in a manly manner

sassy gay friend 

flip flops na may toeless socks (say what?)

breast separator for sleeping (people are obsessed with the boob separator – it's insane)

I'm a Snuggie profile badge

gynecologist office photo

the drums

INXS falling down the mountain

what do vampires smell like?  (more than one hit for this — you can't see my right now, but I'm twirling my index finger by my temple and going "cuckoo")

….AND (drumroll please) The Kerry Blog June 16th and all-time champion of the keyword searches is BBW PIN-UP for the post of which there is an illustration of no nekkidness, thankyouverymuch.  Good grief, there are a bunch of horny people in the world (I'm talking to you Estonia, Ukraine, and Brazil).  

so, I’ve been told the comments aren’t working again

Frugal Beth and a couple of other peeps have hit me up on the Facebook machine to tell me the comments on the blog aren't working again.  Ugh.  I figured something was up since many of you have caught me in Facebook chat or sent emails, but apparently the comments are working for some and not others.  Oh well.   

In other news, proving once again that Beth does not get any reference from the '80s, Beth asked me what "Frankie Say Relax" meant this afternoon.  Seriously.

Just for you, Bethy.  

so, this is where a post usually goes

So, this is where a post usually goes.

But there is no post tonight.  

There was no post yesterday.  

There will be a post soon.  

It will be good.  

I promise.  

There are pictures and there will be words to go with those pictures when my brain can make better sense of words.  But for now, just know that I have a bump on my head and I feel tipsy although I haven't had a drop to drink.  Lawdy mercy.

live-blogging the Project Runway season 7 premier (woo-hoo!)

Woo-hoo!  Project Runway's back and can I tell you how excited I am that Nina Garcia and Michael Kors will be judging each eppie?  Love.  They're back in New York.  Love.  Tim Gunn will not be standing uncomfortably on a beach in California, but back in Gotham where he belongs.  Double love.  

Let's start the show, shall we?

9pm Central, baby.  Sizing up the contestants.  Jeanne says she's "dorking out about being in New York."  Honey, I would too.  Ping Wu is a physical therapist and thinks that helps her as a designer.  O-tay.  LOVING Anthony Williams "it is hell being black and gay in the ghetto."  He wants to be a gown designer for Miss Universe.  Faux hawk Jay weighs 145lbs.  I remember when I weighed 145lbs.  That's an era I like to call 20 years ago.  Jesse works at Disney World as FREAKING JACK SPARROW.  Yeah, baby!  He's a pirate everyday!

9:04: love the punk chick already, she collects vinyl just like moi.  

9:05: they're reading the letter — TO THE ROOFTOP, BITCHES!

9:07: it's so good to see Tim back in New York.  He looks great.  Champagne!

9:08: Ben is a comic book guy.  Okay then.  Anna Marie has a little bitty face.  What a doll.

9:09: Look at all that fabric.  Gorgeous.  The challenge: 3 minutes to gather fabric & back to the workroom.  Emilio says "Tim says go and we are like fat people at a buffet in Vegas."  Okay, Emilio, no need for that action.

9:11: commercial.  Here are my initial thoughts:  After watching six seasons of this show, a few "characters" stand out — obviously our Gay Boy From The South, Anthony.  I think we'll see who has talent by the end of the show, but I hope there are some interesting challenges planned.  Last season was plagued with "make a pretty dress-itis" and I couldn't care less who won by the end of the season.  Back to the show!

9:16: oooo – the designers are getting notebook computers to sketch on.  Neat.  The dude with the star tattoo on his neck reminds me of Paul Westerburg from The Replacements.  Jonathan has a cute Morrissey look going on with the hair and glasses.  Cute boy.  Enter the models!

9:19: one of the models is 5'11".  She's an Amazon.  Tim's critiquing.  I want Tim to come help me assemble outfits in my closet everyday.  Star-neck-tatt guy has the zipper showing as a design element and that is SO over.  Ugh.  Jeaneane is kind of in trouble.  Anthony is making Tim laugh.  Okay, this other guy in a gray v-neck wants to make a mermaid train — dear sweet mother of Ariel, stop it.

9:24: Jeneane is starting over completely.  Poor girl.  

9:29: This is going to be interesting.  Ping Wu is something else, y'all.  I haven't figured out what that is yet.  

9:30: Tim is sending in the models.  OMG.  The weird guy that was in the gray v-neck is named Jesus.  Oh, Jesus.

9:31: 5 minutes 'til the runway.  Okay, Anthony is sewing his dress onto his model.  That's never a good sign.  

9:36: ya know what I find most interesting about the switch from Bravo to Lifetime?  The commercials are SO very different on Lifetime.  Centrum vitamins and Special K.  

9:38: YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME.  Nicole Richie is a judge?  

9:39: some of these designers are smoking crack.  For realz.  Okay, I like Jay's – he may weigh what I did when I was 16, but boy can design an outfit.

9:41: Chrisiane's dress looks crazy.  Amy's looks like a harlequin gift bag.  Mila's dose nothing for me.  Don't like the jacket at all.  Anthony's is interesting.  Maya's looks comfy — kinda like a pillow on the bust that you could take a nap on if you got a little sleepy.

9:43: highest and lowest scores — Michael Kors thinks Anthony's dress looks like he glued a couple of dresses together.  C'mon, Kors!  You can do better than that!  Nina loves the guy who is not Paul Westerburg.  Nicole Richie loves Ping Wu.  She is clearly insane.  Clearly.  Jesus' dress is HORID.  Kors says it looks like a crocodile trunk.  Christiane's dress is not loved.  Nina is not liking it.  Kors isn't having it.  The all like Emilio's purple circle number.  I think it's the best on the runway.  

9:49: okay, kids – we know Anthony's not going home because he's a character.  I think it may be Jesus.  Poor Jesus.  Emilio for the win.  

9:56: Ping is safe. Emilo WINS!  Can I call them or what?  Love it.  GOOD JOB, EMILIO!  

9:57: auf wiedersehen, Christiane.  I feel like we barely knew you.  Best of luck to you in the fashion world.

PREVIEWS!  Oh, dear Lord, they're at a farm.  Tim said "screw the challenge."  Tim!  Such harsh language, I'm shocked!  

Well, honeys, I think this hour has give us much to be excited about for the season.  I'm blogged out.  Thanks for spending the hour with me!  

…and I can’t get a book published

All my life I've been a writer.  I use that term loosely.  I'm a writer-girl.  When I was seven, I wrote and illustrated my first book; it was about a turtle, written on 17 sheets of yellow paper and written in blue ink.  I've always written short stories, lots and lots of fiction, some non-fiction, journals, poetry, and a novel.  And a blog.  

While I've never pursued getting a literary agent (and honestly, now I'd have to do a major re-write on the entire novel), I did send copies of my book off years ago to the big publishing houses, only to get rejection form letters in return.  So, I can't say that I didn't try, and it won't be the end of my writing career either.  I have much more to say, whether I say it on this blog, where I make exactly zero dollaroonies, or if I have a novel published one day and make it to the top of the New York Times Bestsellers List.  Seeing my name on a best anything list would be great.  

I think about writing much of the time.  To be a good writer you have to read, thus, I read quite a bit.  I don't get to read as much fiction as I used to, but I read a good deal of news articles, essays, and blogs.  I visit Neatorama just about everyday for fun as well and something they wrote about books caught my eye today.  They mentioned The Weird Book Room at Abe Books.  I read through the titles of the books on this site and kept thinking "and I can't get a book published."  I'm assuming you haven't heard of these books either, so I feel it is my duty to show them to you as well.  


It's really too bad Christmas has come and gone because How Green Were the Nazis? would have made a great gift for one of my good friends.  I'm thinking with all the gassing and murdering in the Holocaust, the Nazis weren't all that green.  But I could be wrong.  Maybe they were driving electric cars and shit.  Maybe Hitler was an 'effing vegan and only ate free range lettuces and used cruelty-free mustache wax.  That's probably why he was so pissed off, he just wanted a burger.  What are you going to tell me next?  The Nazis were just misunderstood?  They were all about lowering your carbon footprint?  Look for my new book, How Much Does Al-Qaeda Love Kittens, due in bookstores this May!

How-bowl-better-self-hypnosis If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I am nothing if not a sports nut (and that I am a fan of the sarcasm).  What I love about this book is that it combines my love of bowling with hypnosis.  How You Can Bowl Better Using Self-Hypnosis sounds like the most helpful of all the self-help books ever written.  What's good about this book is that if you follow the directions to the letter, the best thing that could happen is that you could end up being the best bowler of our generation and make the big bucks on the pro tour and get hot chicks (hey, pro-bowlers can get hookers just like Tiger Woods, they just have to pay for them).  The worst thing that could happen if you use this book is that every time you hear the sound of pins being reset you'll cluck like a chicken and you'd attract strange looks.  

Do-it-yourself-coffins-power-snyder  "But Kerry, I'm not a bowler," you say.  Have I got the book for you.  This is the book for everyone.  Benjamin Franklin said, "The only things certain in life are death and taxes," and it goes without saying you know someone who will need a coffin at some point in the future.  Why not start a new hobby?  Do It Yourself Coffins for Pets and People will teach you what you need to know about building that perfect eternal resting place.  A lot of people agonize over what to do over the loss of a pet, but with this book, you'd have a plan.  I'm not sure what the coffin size range is, though.  So, don't sue me if you can't make coffin for your pet dwarf hamster.  Speaking of size ranges, be careful if you intend to give this coffin to a loved one as a gift.  If she catches you measuring her shoulders, she might think you're getting her something cheesy, like a set of football pads.  Nothing quite says "I care about you, alive or dead" than a coffin.  You know, Valentine's Day is just around the corner, better get started.  

Beverly-hillbillies-bible-study-guide Maybe you're thinking more about your eternal salvation than your eternal resting place.  The Beverly Hillbillies Bible Study Guide may be just what you've always wanted, but never knew existed.  Frankly, I find this blasphemous.  Not about God, about the Beverly Hilbillies, that show was awesome.  You may not know this, but I grew up in the lower-middle class, not even middle-middle, in a less than 1000 square foot, one bathroom house (in what is now pretty much the ghetto).  When I was a kid, I was loved, and being a kid, I didn't know we were poor.  That is until I saw the Beverly Hillbillies and their "cement pond."  I didn't know anyone with a swimming pool until my grandparents got one (above ground, you know, I mean, they weren't MADE of money) when I was ten.  I can only assume that the Hillbillies can teach you more about Jesus than any high falutin' gilded-eded Bible study book could.  

How-to-be-pope  While we're on the subject, you know, Jesus loves me (it's a song, look it up) and I love Him right back.  I'd be Pope if I could, but alas, I'm a woman and I'm not Catholic, so that's out.  But if
I were running for Pope, I'd definitely get this book, How to be Pope: What to Do And Where to Go Once You're In The Vatican.  You'd think they'd just publish one or two of these and pass them down or something.  I'm sure there is quite a bit to know about the job, seriously — can you imagine the training video?  Good Lord.  Anyway, I think this would be a good book just to have on hand if you're a Catholic male because you can never be too prepared, now can you?  It could be like Publisher's Clearinghouse and they just show up at your door in Pasadena with the Popemobile and the giant hat and say, "come on, Rusty, it's your turn!"  Plus, I'm no Vatican scholar, but I think it's about time there's been a Pope Rusty from Pasadena.

50-ways-use-feminine-hygiene-products-manly-way  You know I've saved the most disturbing for last. 50 Ways to Use Feminine Hygiene Products in a Manly Manner is something I saw and said "and I can't get a book published."  

A Mr. B. Koz wrote a book about how men can use pads and tampons to prove, essentially, how much testosterone men have.  Please tell me men aren't shooting ducks with tampon bullets.  That's what the cover looks like.  "Woo-hoo!  Hey, Carl — did you see how I put that Tampax Pearl in that mallard's ass?  I love huntin' with these things!  Carl, you DID pack the tea sandwiches, didn't you?  For pete's sakes, I hope you used the cranberry mayo this time."  

I repeat, and I can't get a book published.  

photo study: my gynecologist’s office

Since my last photo study was such a success (yes, I am full of myself, thankyouverymuch), I decided to make it a series.  Today's photo study comes from my gynecologist's office.  That would be the offices of Nekkid Lady Doctors R Us, St. Tammany.  

The waiting room.  

I wouldn't even call this the waiting room.  This is the torture room that knows no time.  The television in the corner plays soap operas or EXCUSE ME, daytime dramas.  I got a daytime drama for you — me waiting in that damn room.  When I was pregnant with Andrew the television played Food Network, which was great, because I was pregnant and always hungry.  Now I'm not pregnant, but I'm also not launching my own makeup line or having an affair with my ex-husband while trying to figure out if my newborn is my husband's or the gardner's — so soaps really aren't that interesting to me.  There are no decent magazines in this room.  I am told it's because they are all taken to the exam rooms by patients.  Yeah.

It's art time!

Y'all know I am nothing if not an art lover, but I simply cannot stand the art in this office.  

I don't remember the title, but I call it "Blank Stare Chick in a Chair."

I don't remember the title of this one either, but I call it "Blank Stare Chick Against a Wall."

Onto the art in the my exam room.  I've been a patient here for a little over five years and only twice have I been taken to another exam room.  The exam room has a little tv monitor playing a video of the laser skin resurfacing procedure you can have for Rosacea or acne scars.  It's on a loop.  A loop.  I've seen this video eleventy seven times.  

Oh, and there's art!

I'm sure this has a perfectly decent title, but I call it "Wednesday Adams at Boredom School."   I dislike this one the most.  I don't know if it's the creepy porcelain doll (I hate porcelain dolls and think they're creep city, just so you know) or chickie's blank stare, which seems even more blank (if that's possible) than the others.  Eeek.  


Yeah.  You know what I'm going to say.  This chick has white afro puffs on her head for no damn reason.  I've sat in the exam room three times in the past month and stared at this picture.  I have pretend conversations with her.  

Me: What's wrong, afro puffs too tight?

Her: No, I'm just thinking about Birdie.  Wondering where she is, what she is doing, who she is with, is she thinking of me, and will she ever return to me someday?

Me: Let me guess.  Your bird flew out the window?

Her: Yes, Birdie.  

Me.: Sadly predictable, window being open and all.    

Her: Birdie was a gift from Pablo, my Spanish lover.  He gave Birdie to me the night he left for the bullfights.

Me: So, Pablo's gone too?

Her: Si.

Me: I see.

Her: And so I sit here, wondering about Pablo, what he is doing, who he is with, what he is thinking, is he thinking of me, and will he ever return to me someday?

Me: Damn, stop staring at me.  I've been sitting here too long and I watched way too much Kids in the Hall in the '90s.  It's cold in here.  Why are there so many pamphlets?  Is it "pamphlets" or "pamplets?"  Did I put on deodorant this morning?  Yeah, I did.  I wonder if I have time to get my phone out of my purse and sit back down before my doctor comes in.  Why didn't I bring my purse over here?  Ugh.   Do I need laser skin resurfacing?