Shit on a Shingle And Other Life Moments
At twenty-seven years old, M. E. Evans had just graduated from college, twice, and still had no idea what to do with her life besides frequent strip clubs and fantasize about being a woman known for a sort of vague, unnamed success. But when her plans to become a better version of herself are derailed…
I have a lot going on right now. There’s the book, Naked (In Italy), a dog, a baby, writing jobs, and sometimes I have to sort of clean my house. Sort of. So much shit. Literally, with a dog and a baby my life is mostly covered in some form of doody...please help). Trying to…
NAKED (In Italy) will be released soon! Pre-orders will be available soon! I'll keep you updated. Tell your fam, tell your sister-wives, tell your poker buddies and book club to grab a copy to keep me stocked in wine for all of the upcoming readings (if you've ever been to one of mine in the…
Continue reading ➞ Naked (In Italy): A Memoir About the Pitfalls of La Dolce Vita
Yesterday I came home from a little trip to a nearby cafe to find my dog, caked in shit. Human shit. Specifically toddler shit from a diaper he’d dragged out of the bathroom trash where my nanny had stuck her two-year-old’s diaper for reasons I have yet to understand and she’s lucky I love her…
Trigger warning. This is a serious post about a very uncomfortable topic. Leo just turned five months old and I’ve been having a lot of uncomfortable feelings lately. Those two things are unrelated...kinda. Let me start again, I recently watched some terrible video that traumatized me and my anxiety is at peak levels right now…
Continue reading ➞ Real Talk: The Horrible Thing We Don’t Want to Talk About
This Sunday my baby will be twelve weeks old. Which sounds like 3 months to me but is not 3 months because like everything related to children their age is a fucking clusterfuck to figure out.
It's been a wild ride. After we brought him home from the hospital I cried a lot, had a massive anxiety attack, and spent hours wondering why someone would let me leave with a breakable human being. Who decided we were fit to do this?
