Monday, October 19, 2015

The Beer Is Now On Sale!: And a Big Giveaway!

Morning Readers!

Well, today is the day.

No, still no baby.

But what better way to get my mind off the fact I have three weeks left to waddle around and not fit in my car, than to release a new book and give stuff away? Ok, maybe cookies work too, but I'm leaning heavily on the giveaway option.

If you didn't grab a copy on pre-order, that's totally fine! The Beer's Folded and the Laundry's Cold: Mostly-True Adventures In Housewifery is available today for Kindle, Nook, and Paperback. What's it about, you say?

In “The Beer’s Folded and the Laundry’s Cold: Mostly-True Adventures in Housewifery,” Paige Kellerman follows up her hilarious debut--“At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles”—with the natural next step—taking on budgeting, babies, and trying to keep the day drinking down to a minimum while staying at home.
At the core, it’s a story of a woman who worked in an office and didn’t, instead working on trying to make money stretch like a two dollar pair of panty hose, upping her fashion game to include occasionally wearing pants, and using dull childproof scissors to cut out coupons and wads of gum from her kid’s hair.

This hilarious follow-up is not a “how-to” on being the perfect parent, but rather a tale of one woman running the house like a boss—that is, when she’s not scraping failed Pinterest-inspired experiments out of the Crock-Pot, filling the bird feeder and waiting for rogue squirrels to stop by and steal all the food, or inhaling the smell of a laundry sheet like a Snuggle-scented sedative.

In other words, she’s got this “housewifery” business down—and continuing to crack readers up.

Great question, Bob. No need to bid on a showcase here, Readers. I've got three prize packages ready, and it doesn't require you to bet on what the value of a jet ski is.

3rd Place: I'm giving away FIVE free ebook copies of The Beer is Folded and the Laundry's Cold. (Kindle or Nook, totally your choice)

2nd Place: The runner up gets a signed copy of The Beer's Folded, a signed copy of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles, a signed copy of The Big Book of Parenting Tweets, and a signed copy of The Bigger Book of Parenting Tweets. This giant book package comes with Beer bookmarks for all copies.

1st Place: The Grand Prize Winner gets the whole haul. Which is...
  • A $25 gift card to Amazon, so you can get a jump on the old Christmas shopping
  • Signed copies of all books listed in the second place package
  • A $20 credit to the FABULOUS online jewelry shop, Penny Jules
  • Bookmarks
  • An adorable "Books, Snacks, Crumbs" tote bag to tuck everything inside of
All you have to do is enter the handy, dandy Rafflecopter below, and you've just given yourself multiple chances to win some The Beer is Folded swag. So get to it, and have an awesome week in the meantime. I'll just be over waiting for someone to load me into an over-sized Radio Flyer wagon and drag me to the hospital.

(Please Note: This contest is open to US and Canadian residents only. However, if you live outside those two countries, you're still eligible to win one of the five, free ebooks.)

Until Next Time, Readers!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Friday, October 16, 2015

Books, Babies, and A Dollar Store Halloween

The Munsters were great at pumpkin placement and always had everything figured out. Smoky booze included.

Afternoon Readers,

Ok, I'm finally getting organized. My life is in order. Everything is as it should be.


I like to give myself those pep talks in times of high stress, crisis, and when I figure out I forgot to buy coffee the day before. I majored in English, but I also have a minor in false hope. Things happening right now:

1. The Beer's Folded and the Laundry's Cold hits shelves on MONDAY!

(Tune in for a BIG giveaway and so many free pairs of cankles, you won't be able to fit in your shoes.)

2. I can barely walk because I'm carrying a baby that may weight fourteen pounds. Need definitive data, but almost 100% sure of this. Almost thirty-seven weeks and beyond ready to waddle to the nearest hospital. Just give me a gown, a wheelchair, some free pudding, and get out of my way.

3. I decided right now would be a most excellent time to paint the built-ins in the living room. Because nesting has taken the form of Bob Villa, apparently. I have no urge to clean the bathrooms or organize baby clothes. I want to sheet rock something. Or prime it. Or possibly renovate a bathroom. Whatever. Does anyone have a jigsaw I can borrow?

So, when I'm not stressing myself out with self-imposed deadlines and projects, the fact remains I still have three other children who are adamant about celebrating every holiday that is about to be upon us. Halloween is no exception. Leading with, "But I've gained forty pounds and can't drive you." doesn't stop kids from shoving you towards the van and demanding spooky decor, stat.

"We need bats and pumpkins and skeletons and gravestones."

When we were all in the car, I decided on a last ditch effort to waddle back inside. "What if mommy lets you paint some some old Tupperware with scary faces and then we can pop some candles under them?"

"That'll start a fire. Our teacher told us starting fires is dangerous."

"Right. Don't tell her I said that."

Due to the amount of children now in my care and the sheer volume of things they were intent on dragging home, I made the quick decision the dollar store was the only place equipped enough to enable us to buy three hundred paper pumpkins, pay our taxes, and avoid any further involvement from the IRS. I checked the sign before we barged through the door like a small, Viking hoard.

"Ok, everything is, in fact, a dollar. Now, kids, I want everyone on their best be-"

But they were already gone.

I waddled through the swinging, glass doors as fast I could and looked around frantically. I cornered an old lady. "Excuse me, have you seen children who look like they're out for fake blood? One of them may have tried to poke you out of the way with a Styrofoam sword."

There was a flash of movement on my right. I spun around, just as the three-year-old barreled toward me, arms full of plastic cups in the shape of black cats. "Mom, we need these."

"Fifty of them?"


"But they say, Happy Hallowon. The detailing on the whiskers is good though."

Sundance popped up from behind a display of glow-in-the-dark socks. "Ok, do we need one of these rubber bats or twenty?"

"Two. Wait, one. Check for a specimen that has both wings. Hold on, those might actually be two-for-a-dollar squirrels that got stuck to some wrapping paper."

While I waded through a sea of paper pumpkins and garlands of spider webs, the other twin bounded down the isle with trick or treat bags. "Ok, I got one for everyone, and then we filled them with all the stuff we want."

Hesitantly, I peeked inside. "I admire your spirit, but do we really need eight boxes of spider rings and five skulls?"

"WE need to be scary."

"Honey, we're terrifying already. What if, on Halloween, I just open up the van doors and let everyone see what it looks like inside? The neighbors won't be able to sleep for a month."

It was too late. After their bags were full, all three kids charged into the bowels of the store, intent on seeing what else they could drag behind them to the cash register. By the time we made it up to the woman at the front, I'd adopted toothpaste, a new set of measuring cups, candy, two sticks of beef jerky, one plastic basket for socks, a six foot paper mummy, seventeen pumpkins, a bat with both wings, sippy cups shaped like cats, and some taffy that mysteriously tasted like soap.

"That'll be eighteen dollars."

"That's it?" Shocked, I took out my card. We'd picked up a lot of crap, but I'd forgotten it was cheap crap, and that felt good.

The lady smiled and handed me the receipt. "Good luck gettin' that baby out. You look ready."

I nodded. "I'm more ready to have this baby than find places for all these pumpkins. Where does one strategically place seventeen, paper gourds?"

"Happy Halloween."

I waved. "Happy Hallowon."

Later that day, Kellerman house was thoroughly decorated for the holiday. Bring your bags and your costumes, because we're giving away all the candy around here. And, if you're lucky, I may even send you away with some complementary, cardboard gourds.

Until Next Time, Readers!

Like what you read here? Buy some Cankles
And if quick bathroom reads are your friend, grab The Big Book of Parenting Tweets: Featuring the Most Hilarious Parents on Twitter!
And now that I've awkwardly made you my friend, come hang out with me on:

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Oh That's Just My Thirty Year Collection of Boots Monthly

"Ya know, Janet,  if we'd just ordered those coffee mugs shaped like pit bulls, we wouldn't have to whittle our own out of this dead tree.

Afternoon Readers,

Obligatory countdown: I'm now thirty four weeks and pretty much ready for the baby to be here yesterday.

Moving on.

I've noticed, lately, that time has a strange quality of speeding up or slowing down at will. For instance, the time it takes to feed the children dinner and get them to bed is, roughly, three thousand hours. But since moving in to the new house last December, the months have pretty much flown by. I blinked, and it's been almost a year.

Things that have changed:

No more wallpaper
Fireplace painted white
Trimmed back trees before we re-created the scene from Poltergeist where all the branches punch through the windows and try to kill everyone

Things that haven't changed:

Vinyl flooring in kitchen is still peeling at the edges, giving us special hiding places for any extra retirement money.
Gutters need to be cleansed of leaves. Per the rain last week, I'm almost sure we have no drainage off the roof, but watching the kitchen window turn into a miniature Niagara Falls was compelling on both an emotional and aesthetic level.
We're still receiving eight hundred magazines a day for the former occupants.

The last item on that list bears addressing, mainly because it's one of the most fascinating phenomena I've ever witnessed. Let's examine.

January 10, 2015

Me:  Wow, did you see this? The mailbox was packed. There must be magazines from twenty different companies here.

Husband: Ehh, I'm sure they'll change their forwarding address pretty soon. And I think that's more like fifty different magazines. Wait ...does that one say it's for train enthusiasts over sixty?

Me: Knock yourself out.

Present Day

Absolutely nothing has changed.  As far as I can tell, the former and only owners of this house spent most of the last three decades subscribing to every magazine, catalog, and glossy insert they could get their hands on. The previous ten months have been a veritable parade of tchotchkes, western wear, mugs, and those of us ready to aggressively pursue a life of leisure, dressed solely in matching wind suits and high rise orthopedics.

Did you know...

There are magazines for cats
Publications for floor mats
A twenty page bi-fold for Christmas hats

Some have shoes
And some only sell socks
I've gotten eighty issues from a place that strictly vends cuckoo clocks

Sweaters for dogs
And decorative fruit
If you buy two, you can get a free hazmat suit

Beach wear for skinny
Beach wear for fat
We know you got the one about Christmas wear, but don't forget about beach wear for cats

Ok, I'll stop there. And I promise no more poetry, ever. I blame my third cup of coffee before 11am. But still, things have gotten pretty ridiculous. Did I say ridiculous? I meant terrifying.

At first, everything headed to the recycle bin. Every day, two pounds of trees would head back into the great circle of life, and I felt like I was doing my part. But, slowly, I'd catch myself sipping coffee and looking over what not buying things on the internet had to offer. This pastime was merely a innocent hobby.

A catalog dedicated entirely to garden gnomes? Yeah, I'll bite.

Oh, so I can buy clogs wholesale and completely cut out the middleman? Interesting.

Hmm, but how does one structure fifty pages of product around sundials shaped like dachshunds? I'll just take a peek.

Without realizing it, I'd fallen down the rabbit hole of ordering by mail and guessing my size based on an attached chart the size of an index card glued to the centerfold.  Of course, that was when I wasn't scanning the quarterly issue of One Size Fits All! Christmas was coming. Mug Life Styles wanted to know if I was ready.

Husband walked in just as a small seed of panic set in. "Hey there."

I threw my copy of Collectible Curiosities at him. "I really need you to decide."

"On what?"

I thumbed back to page five. "If you'd like the floor mat of the cat saying, "Hang in there." or if the coffee pot shaped like bike handlebars is more your speed."

"Neither. Wait, what is all this stuff?"

Shrugging, I flipped to the book lover's section. "You know, the more I look at the selection, it's really quite charming. Did you know I can get my mom a set of twelve Edward Gorey place mats?  For fifty bucks, all of our extended family can have pepper grinders for Christmas."

" I don't thi-"

"I just have to decide whether to order the ones personalized with their last initial or the gold plated kind with Wayne Newton's face embossed on the front."

"Or we could throw this in the recycle and move in the direction of gift cards."

"Help me. Please."

It's a good thing I have Husband to intervene when I get certain ideas in my head. He's a constant voice of reason, especially when I'm ready to petition the Sears catalog for a slipper/robe set that matches the paint job on my van and a new set of plow mules. At any rate, I don't anticipate actually ordering anything from the plethora of publications which continue to bombard our new home ...but, if it does happen, would you guys rather have a plate shaped like a banana leaf or an angora jumpsuit for your cat?

Until Next Time, Readers!

Like what you read here? Buy some Cankles
And if quick bathroom reads are your friend, grab The Big Book of Parenting Tweets: Featuring the Most Hilarious Parents on Twitter!
And now that I've awkwardly made you my friend, come hang out with me on: