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If Life Hands You Cat Piss, Make Cat Pie.

Posted on January 30, 2013

With Jonah finally sorting out the difference between night and day and finally doing some decent sleeping, it is heartbreaking when things beyond your control befall you and wake your peaceful babe. Things like children running and squawking up and down your condo hallways, phone calls from your mother at inopportune times, a barking shit dog or a clumsy mom tidying up during nap time. All of these offences forgivable because they are part of life and issues Jonah will have to learn to snooze through anyhow. last night I almost perpetrated cat-homicide, people But you want to know what is unforgivable? Watching baby cry when you throw on every light in the house at four am because when you finally rolled into bed,…

The Dangers You Didn’t Know About Your Husband’s Sleepy Sperm

Posted on January 28, 2013

Napping in the Huyghebaert household has never been any lower on the priority list than maybe number one or two. Bestie learned this truth years ago when she would try to pick me up for school, or call before noon or before suppertime, or try to take me out on the weekends. I will and still do, trade all things for sleep. Sleep is my dark mistress, and I obey. Ladykiller Bestie learned of this Huyghebaert tradition sadly after he paid thousands of dollars on a plane ticket to come visit us. Poor guy spent half the day just waiting for Hubby and I to get out of bed … or for me to scream from the bedroom “Coffee! Damn it!” Ah, those were…

Anything For You, Kid

Posted on January 22, 2013

I have recently undergone a lobotomy. When my Sony crashed a few weeks ago, I thought I was experiencing a heart attack and stroke simultaneously but it turns out the “heart attack” was my searing emotional breakdown and the “stroke” feeling was coming on from hearing “Don’t you back up your work?” and “Your hard disk failed,” and “Try backing up your work online to a server. Why don’t you do that already?” Everything I don’t understand about computers was thrown in my face during a time where I was watching my life disappear before my eyes. I am a writer, geniuses. I am an artist, ok? I don’t always back up my shit, I don’t even really know how to do anything but…

An Open Letter to my Brother

Posted on January 13, 2013

Our father calls us “romantics”. You and I, brother, are romantics born from romantics, so let him call us what he will. Tonight, I echoed my earlier steps back into a theatre to sit myself down in front of the story that has been in my heart, as well as in yours, since we were but pint size dreamers. Oh, how this story strikes me in the deep, furthest depths of my soul. It has followed me my whole life, you see. Swung around me like this breeze of unseen music that only I could hear, and as I grew I sang every word at one time or another like they were my own words, born from the need to grieve or rally and…