Christy The Writer

We are heading out this morning to spend Thanksgiving with friends in upstate New York. Because, after all, when anyone asks where you’d like to spend a winter holiday, the answer should always be, “Why, Buffalo, of course.”

Picture it: Atlantic City, earlier this week. Doug and Christy are at Starbucks. Doug has just been handed a cup of hot water and a bag of Awake tea. Doug: “For what they charge for tea, they could at least make it for you. Everyone knows you make tea by pouring the water over the [...]

I’m going to Atlantic City this week for work. I know, I know. I’m lucky to have a job. Especially one that knows how to throw in those little perks. Like trips to the beach. In November.

Happy birthday, Wendi Aarons! This year, I wish you hope, love, peace and that you’d stop being funnier than me.

I just saw a woman who was out with her child, a little girl who must have been about five. The little girl was crying and the mother was screaming at her and calling her names. Calling her names. I am going to ask my legislators to pass the following law: anyone who has been [...]

Just a typical morning here in our house. While smelling the bologna to make sure it wasn’t gross before putting it in Guy’s lunch, I spilled chicken broth all over the kitchen floor and Harry immediately ran through it, batting the foil wrapper from an ovulation predictor test he yoinked from the bathroom garbage. Gonna [...]

I bought a new set of hot rollers yesterday, and when I opened it I found a note that said, “Heating the unit with lid closed could cause severe damage.” I was immediately reminded of my high school typing teacher, Mrs. Edwards. Picture Ben Stein as a older woman, then add one more big pinch [...]

There was a PBS special on tonight about the British royals - I know, you’re kicking yourself because you missed it. Not to worry, it’s a series. But if, like me, you turn it on because they promised to show us how the monarchy works behind the palace walls and you really want to see Queen Liz scrubbing the toilets [...]

Guy, watching “The Brady Bunch” movie with me before we open a bottle of wine: “Marcia is just really not that pretty.” Guy, watching “The Brady Bunch” movie with me after we’ve finished the bottle of wine: “Greg! Dude! Get her – she’s hot!”

I don’t know what is going on with my stupid skin. I can use the same cleanser and moisturizer for months, and then one day it suddenly feels like I’m using Ponds Battery Acid with Shrapnel.