I love hearing from readers, not as much as I love wine, but a VERY close second!


Spending time with me increases Prozac sales by, like, a million percent. If you work for Eli Lily please ask them to put me on the payroll immediately.

My friend Ryan and I were at dinner last week when I did the unthinkable: I invited him to spend the evening with my mother and brother. I was smart about it though, and made him eat a hamburger first. Protein makes you stronger and increases your chances of survival.

I’ve known Ryan for a few years, but this was the first time he’s ever met my family. He’s a good guy and I know multiple Nielsons can be intimidating. I absolutely adore my family. I really do, but we are bat shit crazy.

After an hour of NORMAL FAMILY CONVERSATION Ryan looked at Ben and I and then told my mom she was so patient. Like piranhas my brother and I immediately attacked him.

“What do you mean patient? Are you saying we are difficult to handle?”

“Oh my God, did you just infer that our Mother doesn’t love us?”

“Did you just call my sister horrible?”

“Did you just call us miserable human beings that should be locked up and never released?”

Ryan said nothing. It was all he could do from rocking himself from the corner straight into a mental institution. We have that effect on people.

He was very polite about the evening, but I think hearing about my Mom’s beard fetish left him a little skittish. I can’t imagine why.


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