The blogosphere is an amazing place.
This person abandoned her evening of Chardonnay to attend one of Keija’s Austin readings for THE RUINS OF US.
This lovely lady helped me set up a virtual bookstore on my sidebar – and then ordered a book just for the hell of it.
This person and this person did (or are doing) giveaways on their websites.
This person is also doing a giveaway and her company even created an online launch strategy for the book.
And then there are those of you who have been tweeting this book until your little fingers bled!
I can’t tell you how awed I am of everyone’s support for my sister’s book and while I would like to give each and every one of you a signed first edition, the shipping and handling would be a bitch. Which leads me to the announcement of the big winner (as determined by www.random.org’s true random number generator)…
Shari from Dusty Earth Mother! Hooray! I love Shari! She is wonderfully funny and generous and after having met her at BlogHer, I can say that she is also disgustingly beautiful.
Thank you again to all of you for your support and well wishes – Keija and I are so very grateful. If you still haven’t forgiven me for not winning, check out the other giveaways mentioned above for more chances to win a free copy!
I leave you with this post that ran on Taming Insanity’s site a few weeks ago. Enjoy.
___________________
With a new addition to the family, I thought it only appropriate to address the outright lies and offenses being printed on newborn onesies these days.
“My Mom Rocks?” ”Boob Man?” ”Future Quarterback?” ”Santa’s Little Helper?”
Cut the bullshit, Carters.
Parenthood is a battlefield and as Bill Shakespeare used to tell his kids, “The truth will out.” Which is why I’m starting “The Onesies Crap Stops Here And I’m Not Talking About Meconium” campaign.
I’ve already sent the following slogans to my second cousin who works at the t-shirt kiosk in the mall, so I’m confident you’ll see these soon on a baby near you:
* I Was Swaddled By An Armless Baboon.
* Stop Donating To Your Alma-Mater, I Don’t Want To Go There.
* That Nursing Cover Makes You Look Like Jack Black.
* My Mom Cries So Much Because She’s Blissfully Happy.
* ’COLIC’ Spelled Backwards Is ‘Flight To Mexico’
* Pooping Makes Me Smile. Not Your Elmo Voice.
* If I Root For The Packers, Will You Still Love Me?
* Daddy Goes To Work Early And Sleeps Under His Desk.
* Daddy Stays Late At Work And Sleeps Under His Desk.
* Grandpa’s Little Bundle Of Terrorist Demands.
* I Hate My Middle Name. Thanks.
* Lay Off The Chili, I’m Gassy Enough.
* My Reflux Is All Your Fault.
* That Guy Over There? Is Totally Watching You Nurse.
* Sleep-Training Is For Pussies.
* Daddy, I’ll Take The Bed, You Take The Couch.
* Burp Me Like That Again, I Call CPS.
* Don’t Leave Me Alone With My Sibling.
* Already Rejected By Four Preschools.
* Future Graduate Of The Preschool That Accepts Un-Pottytrained Biters.
* I Would Latch Better If You Were Angelina Jolie.
* Five Generations Of THIS Nose!
I am going to be so rich off my philanthropic effort to make onesies more REAL and less ADORABLE.
You want adorable?
Bust out the ultrasound photo.
Pre-reflux.
Pre-colic.
Pre-The-Poor-Kid-Looks-Just-Like-Uncle-Hal.
