As a young child I had Santa and Jesus all mixed up. I could identify Coke or Pepsi with just one sip, but I could not tell you for sure why they strapped Santa to a cross. Had he missed a house? Had a good little girl somewhere in the world not received the doll he'd promised her, making the father angry?

His laugh is made if porch swings and lemonade

In some ways, blogging is like drinking - it gives a person permission to be a total asshole.

If I were a serial killer, I would not be the kind that stabs and then eats the victim. I would be the kind that hides in a tree and shoots at the aerobics class.

My mother is from Cairo, Georgia. This makes everything she says sound like it went through a curling iron.

Even when we lose an arm or a leg, there's not less of us but more. Human experience weighs more than human tissue.

I was in advertising for years. That was cushy, you know? It's pretty cushy in a lot of ways, but I hated it.