To place an online order for your copy of
Femail: A Comic Collision in Cyberspace,
choose the link to your favorite online retailer:
Here’s what people are saying about Femail: A Comic Collision in Cyberspace:
“I dare you to find even one page of this wonderful book that doesn’t
make you laugh. Linda and Shana are hysterical squared! And I mean
that in a good way… their musings made me smile, snort, and shout,
‘Exactly right!’” Debra Garfinkle, author of Storky: How I Lost My Nickname and Won the Girl
Sex may take place in The City, but there’s plenty of sass in the
suburbs. While Linda Sharp and Shana Moore might cop to being
housewives, these gals are far from desperate. Rather than finding
their thrills with a pool boy, Sharp and Moore delight in taking the
head-splitting struggles all women experience, and making you
laugh until your sides have busted their seams.
Linda and Shana tell it like you’ve experienced it…only this time
around it’s funny. Their flat out honest portrayals of PMS and
unearned sweat; puppies and grown women who piddle; sagging
breasts and husbands who often act like boobs, will leave you
smiling, and feeling less alone in your leaky rowboat.
“Femail got me laughing out loud! It’s a celebration of friendship that’s at
once irreverent, feisty and heartfelt.” —Alison van Diggelen, founder & editor of Silicon Mom
“Moore and Sharp unite tongue and cheek for a hilarious, witty,
sometimes frumpy, sometimes sexy romp through the daily challenges
and universal nuances of motherhood in the twenty-first century.”
—Kymberli Brady, author of The Sleepy Little Star and Give Them Wings
and Let Them Fly
To place an online order for your copy of
Caffeinated Ponderings On Life, Laughter & Lattes,
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Excerpt:
Introduction:
WHY IS IT THAT…COFFEE IS LEGAL? (BUT I'M SURE GLAD IT IS!)
Whenever I reach a state of caffeinated nirvana, I stop to ponder how something
that makes me instantly soothed and perky can possibly be legal. The mere idea
that the Surgeon General could order those magical beans off the shelves and out
of my life has me scheming towards the type of stock up that even Costco
couldn't supply.
My fear is that these thoughts alone make me something of a textbook junkie.
This is particularly clear when I confess to fantasizing about my next fix before
the one I'm savoring has neither been finished nor gone cold. But before you go
coordinating an intervention, please concede that there are benefits to spending
time with a grown woman who indulges in such a deliciously harmless vice.
My husband sees the advantages so clearly that I'm afraid I might soon
awaken with the tubes of a House Blend IV lodged in my arm as he tries to speed
up my morning metamorphosis. For now, without the benefit of a slow drip of
drip to jumpstart my day, he's stuck with a grumbling and disheveled woman
who stumbles out of bed at the insistence of two annoyingly playful cubs. Before
my eyes can even focus, our girls are ready to don their jazz pants and dance to
the Pure Disco CD. At this hour, the music of my youth sounds much more like
Pure Hell.
The actress in me does her very best to be impressed by their lead-footed jetés
as I gulp down that first cup of the day. Within minutes…Yeah! Mom here is
back in action. I'm ready to fix breakfast, pack lunches and, after a rare good
night's sleep and an especially dark brew, even bust a few dance moves with the
girls.
I refer to the euphoric time period after my first cup as B.C. (Blissfully Caffeinated).
It is when the cobwebs clear and the feeling of hope returns to my normally
happy and optimistic persona. This, my friends, is the most enjoyable yet
dangerous time of day. You see, the day is new and the caffeine is pumping
through and putting the spice back in this Spice Girl. Oh, the things that I am
going to accomplish today! Sure the house is a mess, I have paper work to do and
the refrigerator is empty. But why not invite some friends over for dinner? It's
only 8:00AM and dinner is some ten hours away. No problem!
An hour later, I make the call and commit to the plan, only all of a sudden it
doesn't seem so fun. The buzz is gone and has taken with it my delusions of grandeur.
Why couldn't it have taken the chores instead? What have I done? I should
know better than to make decisions while under the influence. Can I back out
and claim temporary, java-induced insanity?
I know my addiction is worsening since the same high I used to get from one
cup is now coming from two. Between you and me, when I'm in a real pinch of
afternoon lethargy, I sometimes even push the envelope with a third cup. I do
this well aware of the risk I run of sending myself into a Tasmanian Devil-like
frenzy that will leave anyone within a three-house radius wishing they had a basement
to shield them from the fallout.
I'm smart enough to realize that the physical rush that coffee brings me is too
good to be healthy, but I'm hooked enough to do nothing about it. I'm comforted
and validated by the solidarity I share with the nine or more similarly
addicted individuals who wait in line like me for their sixteen ounces of wake-up.
My only fear, as I tap my foot impatiently while awaiting my turn, is that one of
the employees will single me out by calling me "Norm" and slide my usual order
to the end of the bar. Only then will I concede that I've gone too far, and will
sadly slink to step two in the recovery process.
But until I find myself with a reserved seat next to an all-knowing mail carrier
at the coffee bar, or that dastardly Surgeon General deems my consumption illegal,
I will continue to caffeinate. My reasoning is part selfish pleasure and part
public service. Because the way I see it, at least eighty-four people, including my
family, friends and the unsuspecting strangers whom I wave to with all five fingers
as I let them merge onto the freeway, are counting on me to be full of life
and energy. I assure you, dear reader, that a big 'ole cup-a-joe keeps me from letting
them down and is, without question, the inspiration and creative force
behind this book. I beg you to pour yourself a big one so that you may enjoy
these pages in the spirit in which they were written.
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