So you can get my book for 99 CENTS this week…

Who doesn’t have a dollar to spend on themselves this holiday season?

Well I am one of them, but let’s not go there.

I mean that this holiday season you will all be shelling out tons of moolah on other people, and no doubt stressing about family Christmas drama and being alone (or worse – with your spouse) on New Years…you owe it to yourself to spend that buck and get some quick laughs.

From now until next Wednesday (December 11) you can get My Wife’s A Bitch for only 99 CENTS!

The catch is that’s just Kindle download. You can do it to your Kindle device, your Kindle app on your Smartphone, or even just save it to the Kindle cloud and read it from any computer when logged into your Amazon account.

Click the link. Buy the book. Enjoy the laughs.

http://www.amazon.com/My-Wifes-Bitch-Heather-Schmidt-ebook/dp/B00D5VN2Y2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386350718&sr=8-1&keywords=my+wife%27s+a+bitch

In Eternal Love and Bitching – H

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Miley Cyrus Mom Wars, RIP Agamemnon, and Please Vote For Me

There is no overlying theme of this blog post, really. Just things I need to blather on about, as I sit here engorging on my salad and informing my family about how yummy the sprouts are in it, which I realize is just more proof I’m becoming a California hippy.

Before I punch myself in the face, here goes with the blathering.

Miley Cyrus Mom Wars

Everyone is yap, yap, yapping about Miley Cyrus at the VMAs last night. First, the teddy bear thing was horrifying. Not only did she walk out of the big bear’s vagina, but then she went on to dry hump the other bears, dance with them, and so on. It was really awful, and quite frankly: I didn’t get it.

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Then the foam finger and her supposed-twerking. To begin: twerking is not just rubbing your ass up against Thicke-the-one-hit-wonder. To continue: the penis foam finger suggestive rubbing thing and pretending it was a penis … just gross. GROSS. GROSS. NASTY GROSS.

Last: the tongue. If I were to write Miley Cyrus a letter, it would go something like this:

Dear Miley –

Your tongue is fucking nasty. No one wants to see that shit.

Sincerely – Horrified Viewer

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It would be inaccurate to call me a viewer, though, because really I don’t give a fuck about that broad.

Here is the last thing I have to say on the subject though before getting onto why I call this the “Miley Cyrus Mom Wars”: I bet dollars to donuts that dumb bitch knows exactly what she is doing. Look at all the attention she’s gotten in the last 24 hours since she dry-humped a foam finger on stage?! This is where media blitzes are at now: in the negative attention.

If you don’t believe me, just ask Linsay Lohan and Amanda Bynes.

Now why this is really a mom war, though – like the breastfeeding and the homebirthing and all the other crap mothers fucking fight about to no end now – is because of all the aftermath. Today on Facebook, I read no less than SEVEN status updates about whether or not good parents allow their children to see Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana as a “role model.”

Ok, so let’s not beat around Miley’s fake foam dick, here. It is true. In this day and age, people should not rely on celebrities and sports players to be role models for their children. We should be models for our children. True. True. True. BUT, there are a lot of horse’s ass parents out there. For every good parent, there’s like 20 guys owing back child support and moms taking slutty photos to post on Facebook while their kid is drowning in the bathtub. Kids need to look up to someone if their parents are trashy and tawdry, right? Beyond that, as kids grow older they don’t relate to their parents as well, and seeing mom as a role model becomes more of a challenge. People are not BAD PARENTS for recognizing those problems and looking to other positive role models in their community or popular culture. It’s OK for kids to want to look up to celebrities – dare I say it’s natural at a certain point – and there is nothing wrong with us expecting celebrities to act according to the responsibility of such a public life.

RIP Agamemnon

Our guinea pig died yesterday. It was really sad and all of our hearts are broken. We aren’t entirely sure what happened, but it’s pretty clear that either he accidentally ingested something toxic to his little body (unlikely – we keep a pretty close eye on him); or, he had a tumor that went unnoticed.

If there is one lesson Miley Cyrus could learn from Agamemnon, it’s this: keep your dry-humping of inanimate objects to private time only. Agamemnon of course never went after any foam fingers or one hit wonders (and yes, I would classify Robin Thicke as an inanimate object, because that guy clearly has nothing going on in his head), but his girlfriend Helen the stuffed hedgehog was quite used to Aggie’s private hump time, which he reserved for when he thought no one was looking.

We will miss you, Agamemnon!

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Please Vote For Me

This last point doesn’t have anything to do with dry-humping, unless of course you get overly excited by watching the trailers for any of the steamy romance novels my book is going up against.

I entered my book trailer into a video contest on YouGottaRead.com a few months ago, and was finally included in the August contest. The voting is open until tomorrow (August 27th), and I would think it just splendid if you would click on the link and head over to cast your vote. Otherwise Spunk, A Fable (about Amazon Women taking over the world and murdering men after using them for procreation) will beat me.

So the morals of this blog post were: don’t be a whore, avoid dry-humping foam #1 fingers, Robin Thicke is a one-hit wonder, stop judging other parents, hug your guinea pig while you can, and vote for me, not Spunk, a Fable.

Vote Here!!!

Everyone Shut Up and Listen To Me – NOW (STFU Fridays)

I’m super cranky, faithful blog followers. So cranky I think the best way to describe my attitude would be as snarly, and my facial expression as sheer hatred. Of everything. Between getting back to life after a crazy and long vacation to the Midwest; finding a new place to rent temporarily; and preserving any last bits of my sanity that remain amidst my current war against the tofu-eating, cereal and milk gastropub-opening, flannel shirts and neon green glasses when it’s 180 degrees out-wearing, tandem bike-riding, living in their parents’ basement and working at the local Urban Outfitters-Los Angeles hipsters …I’m a little tapped out.

Not so tapped out, though, that I haven’t had the time to make the changes with my blog I wanted to make, which included:

Redesigning my website

Rebranding my blog

Getting my weekly Podcast up and running

So, everyone just sit down, shut up, and listen to me. NOW. Or else I will declare war on you like I have the hipsters.

Redesigning my website

I know this is going to sound real exerting for those of you that don’t like to move your fingers very far beyond one, two clicks max (studies show Internet users have such a short and seemingly-pathetic attention span at this point that they will not stick around a website for more than two clicks); but I urge you to take a look around my website – extensively.

Because it’s changed. A lot.

Among those changes include making it primarily an author’s website. The blog is really just one part of me – who I am. Really, I am a writer. I write books. I write short stories. I read a lot too, but if any of you read my last STFU Friday post, my next publication has nothing to do with my blog, and everything to do with me as a writer.

You can find my other stuff easily now, as well. On the side bar are links to videos, my books, and my blog.

Which brings me to the next point.

Rebranding My Blog

So…

For some time now I have quibbled with myself over whether I should continue the brand of the B(itch)Log… or do something new. The thing is a lot of people never got the whole (itch) in parentheticals thing. Or they thought it was just a blog where I bitch and bitch and bitch and talk about nothing else, at all.

On one hand, I am a bitch. I mean … seriously. I can be really bitchy and mean. And it is true that a lot of times this blog is a bitch-fest. But not really all the time; and really I’m called a bitch because I’m honest. And blunt. To the point.

On another hand, this is a mom blog. While I do blog about all kinds of things besides just mommy-ass-wiping-puke-on-my-new-outfit-oh-my-God-why-are-you-asking-for-another-fucking-snack-you-just-had-dinner-life, the mommy-ness of it all is still the overlying theme.

And then I said something one day that was just in jest, but it stuck in my mind as a way to merge my love of being who I am, while at the same time making things clear that this is a mom blog (in spite of how many non-mothering things I write about). We were driving home from dinner one night on our vacation, and out of nowhere I said: “…you know, I think my job as a mother will be done right if one day my kids say ‘my mom… she’s a real bitch’ … then I will know I did something right.”

So I hope you will all stick around for the rebranded version of the same, old humor:

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Getting my weekly Podcast up and running

I’ve been talking about doing this weekly Podcast for pretty much as long as I’ve known what a Podcast was. But somehow I just never got it up and running.

TRexRadioThat’s not entirely true – I know exactly how it has gone un-launched all this time. I actually don’t know shit about computers and the Internet, in spite of how much people seem to think I do.

Now I won’t go into the embarrassing details of just how much I didn’t get it, but we’ll just leave it at this: I’ve finally learned how to paste the link to my uploaded Podcast into the area that says “paste here” on iTunes. It was that simple, and now I can do it. So yay.

T-Rex Radio launches this upcoming Tuesday, August 20th. It’ll be a 10 minute show, once a week. I promise I won’t rant and curse… too much…….

Jerry’s Final Thought

I always feel like I need to have a Jerry Springer-style final thought at the end of my blog posts, which is something I really need to get over. For one, I have too many random points to sum up, many of which I didn’t even touch on but would love to talk about in this post. Like how you should buy my book, read recent book reviews of my books, come to my book signings, appreciate the sexiness of old TV anchors like Wolf Blitzer, and so on.

But when it comes time to sign off, I also want to feel like I’ve had closure with a post. Much like closure with a relationship – you know, that thing that usually involves a gas can and a match, and a fire that destroyed all of the things that reminded you of your ex? (Kidding.)

The great thing about STFU Fridays is that closure can be as simple as this: sit down and look through my website. Like My Mom’s A Bitch on Facebook. Listen to my free Podcasts. Enjoy the laughs and the relatability to your own miserable lives (please…spare me the lectures about how your lives are not, in fact, miserable…I don’t believe you). And buy my books. Above all: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

STFU Fridays: Stop Blogging and Start Writing, People

Blogher13 is on. For those of you not into the whole blogging community thing, Blogher is an annual conference for … duh … bloggers. I’ve never been, so I won’t go on lambasting it for all the reasons I hate conferences in general. For the record, I do. Hate conferences. It isn’t anything against Blogher, just gatherings of the sort on the whole. Conventions and such just aren’t my thing. I’m not into the booths and the sales pitches; nor the big badges. Especially not the inflated fees. And the sitting there laughing and clapping right on cue when the guest speaker says something that is just supposed to WOW us all – in the words of my 90s self: gag me with a spoon. I will, however, discuss something I think everyone at that conference should be talking about.

Writers: stop blogging and start writing, already.

I think there is a huge difference between blogging and writing. One so huge that it contends with the gaping hole that is my big, loud mouth. For this STFU Fridays, I’d like to discuss this – this cavern so hidden, so elusive, and so unrecognized that many of us fail to recognize it is even there.

Blogs Are Not Articles

Your blog is not the Huffington Post. It is not the New York Times. It will never be the Chicago Tribune. Sure, you may one day be featured on one of those sites, or be asked to contribute. But your personal website containing a blog ain’t it.

You know what that means? You shouldn’t be writing your blogs as though they are professional articles. Sure, act professionally, but can it with the unproven “facts,” the absolutely insane claims, and the vague analogies and hackneyed lists that you think are totally relevant content, yet everyone and their mother has blogged about.

If I read one more 5 Ways To Survive Summer, or 10 Things You Should Blog About blog posts, I’m going to shoot myself in the face.

And enough with the product endorsements already? I get it: bloggers (especially mom bloggers) get a lot of free shit in exchange for writing reviews. But man is it the most annoying thing ever to visit a blog and see that all its posts for the last six months were reviews of Chobani yogurt.

Stick it with all that shit. Just stick it. Shut the fuck up. A blog is a web-log. A log of your life, your experiences, your opinions. Make it look nice, sure. Sound fancy when you do so. But don’t pretend that it is something it is not.

Blogs Can Have Good Writing, But You Are Only A Writer If…

… you follow basic rules of grammar and syntax.

…. you be respectful of literary devices and the unspoken rules of the literary world (ex: a journey into the forest is always a metaphor for self-discovery, and rain means shit’s about to go down).

…..you learn to use your motherfucking spell check.

Really. What is so difficult about proof-reading or even just hitting the ABC-checkmark button that all blog interfaces have? Are we living in another arena of time and space where it is actually hard to spell “definitely?” If I see DEFINITELY spelled DEFIANTELEY one more time, I believe that my head will DEFINITELY explode, resulting in a DEFINITELY messy situation.

Definitely.

Bloggers: if you want to be writers, for the love of God just shut the fuck up long enough to do a quick proof-read. If you really don’t want to be a writer, that’s cool. But I’ll be the first to draw the line in the sand, here, and if that makes me a bad person – so be it. The profession of writing has been devalued far more than I am willing to just continue to sit by and keep shut-ted the fuck up about.

Stop Blogging And Start Writing, People

Blogging is so much more than just writing words on a blog-style formatted website. It’s going to conferences. It’s networking. It’s posting on Facebook and Twitter and Hootsuite and Klout and LinkedIN and YouTube and Squidoo and Networked Blogs and Google + and blah blah blah blah blah. It’s posting three to five supposedly-quality posts a week. It’s posting what everyone is posting about, using terms everyone uses, and giving shout outs to your favorite blogs ad nauseum, even if you have never actually read them and only call them “favorite” because you think they’ll mention you back, publicly. It’s doing link ups and hosting link ups and commenting and guest blogging (UPDATE: not to be a hypocrite on the whole favorites shout out thing, but one of mine ironically just talked about this today on her own blog, 25toFLy).

Some of the most popular blogs I know of are the shittiest things I have ever read in my entire life, though. It’s true, and it’s because blogging is not necessarily writing.

I’m not by any means touting my own blog as unicorns and rainbows and butterflies and horses that don’t poop when it comes to writing. And I myself have – on more occasions than I would like to admit – fallen into the trap of blogging instead of writing. Finally a few weeks ago, though, I sat myself down and said: Me, it’s about time you shut the fuck up and get back to being a writer.

Which is why I have a big announcement to make today, on this most glorious of shut the fuck up Fridays. It’s about time that I take my own advice and step back as a blogger, and forward as a writer. This doesn’t mean that I’m quitting the blog altogether. That would mean that I would have to stop bitching and complaining and carping and griping – and I think my most faithful of blog followers know that is just not going to happen. It does, however, mean that I’m going to finally get cracking on finishing my novel. It’s almost done and through the final stage of editing, so to motivate me to really stop blogging and start writing, I’m happy to announce it’s official release date of December 10, 2013. It’s called The Storytellers and promises to make you cry. Scratch that: it promises to make you weep.

In other words, it will be nothing like a blog. I know you will all love it anyway.

When push comes to shove we all have to tell our own selves to shut the fuck up once in a while. That’s what I’ve done and I think you should do too. If you are a blogger, I ask that you consider for yourself what makes you proud of the things you put out there. Is it that they are popular and catchy reviews of Chobani yogurt? Or is it your writing? Stop blogging and start writing, people. Because when written word goes away, what will we really have left? That may be too philosophical for you faithful blog followers to think about, but then again – for many of us – it is perhaps the most frightening thought there could be.

How To Make It Into My Next Book – Vacation Edition

I’ve been somewhat quiet on the blog lately, mainly because I’ve been on vacation for three weeks now. I have one more left to go and I am certainly ready to get home. It isn’t that I just love the community in which I live in southern California SOOOOOOO much. You guys know that isn’t true. It’s just that I like my own kitchen. I enjoy having more than one bathroom for my whole family. And my bed at home doesn’t have springs sticking into my side every night when I go to bed.

But there is something I just can’t keep quiet on much further. Something so profound in its impact on this vacation that to say nothing would be a detriment to my own mental health:

How some on this trip will make it into my next book.

Last night I was helping my cousin – getting married this Friday – put together place cards for the reception. It was pretty involved: cutting, sticking, hot gluing, printing … and, in fact, the job wasn’t even finished after five hours of work. As I burned off almost all of my finger prints with the hot glue gun (which will be to my advantage later, I’m sure), we were talking about my book and how people could get into it. Well, really we were talking about how my cousin (the one getting married) could get into it; or how she could secure herself a book all about her.

While I’m not sure that Bridezilla will get a book of her own (kidding about the Bridezilla thing … OK, not really kidding … see Lins, you’ve made it in my blog TWICE now!! … just don’t have a Bridezilla meltdown), I did come back to our hotel room and think about ways people on our vacation could make it into a future book.

Stay With Me In A Hotel Suite

You had better believe that you will get an entire book written about you if you stay with me in a hotel suite. A small hotel suite. A small hotel suite with a small kitchen that you move things around in all the time, in spite of the fact that the only one that actually ever goes in the kitchen to get anything for anyone is me. A small hotel suite where you get the comfortable bed (dad) and we get the shitty bed with the springs that stick into my back in the middle of the night, and the pillows that could really be called “instruments of neck destruction.” A small hotel suite with one bathroom. A small hotel suite that has a bathroom which we all have to share that seems to be occupado for thirty minutes or more, multiple times per day, whenever a man (dad or husband) goes in there. A small hotel suite where there is limited space for clothes and shoes, and my expensive shoes and clothes get repeatedly moved around, wrinkled, smashed, folded incorrectly, or damaged. Or lost. A small hotel suite where we have to do laundry once a week, and you offer to help with the laundry so you go up to the laundry room and promptly lose four of my irreplaceable and staple clothing items.

All of that. That will get you into my next book.

Don’t Ask About My Book

This is what really hurts. I can count on one hand how many people have asked about my book since we got here. And I’ve seen and talked to a lot of people. I’m starting to think I’m just more of a B(itch) than I thought.

I don’t want to sound like a spoiled and temperamental writer. But at the same time, I want to not let people continue to focus on their lives only when in conversation with me. I want to exist in their minds. Maybe not equally, but if we are to have some kind of a relationship it has to be a fair one where we both do things and are important.

Let me repeat that: I can count on one hand how many people have asked about my book. If I lost my thumb and pinky finger in an unfortunate accident involving a lawn mower, a gas can, and a lighter, I could still count on one hand how many people have asked about my book.

For those of you actually interested, I wrote a book. It’s actually my third. A member of my family even just learned Saturday night that I have done such gloriously rewarding things, and that my time is actually not always spent in total mediocrity. Just what in the fuck does that say?

Sales are going well, thanks for asking.

Oh you read it? Well I hope you enjoyed it. I don’t offer refunds if you didn’t.

Promotion is going great too! Thanks for taking such an active interest and being so supportive! Next time you run a marathon and need a donation, join a band and want to get people to your first show, run a Kickstarter for your creative project, have a baby or buy a house or get married or engage in any other major life moments, I will make sure to show you the same exact level of encouragement and support that you have showed me!

I’m starting to sound bitter, so I think I’ll stop there. I’m actually the furthest from bitter anyone could imagine. I know what you are all thinking – how could you suffer the disappointments of losing articles of clothing, sleeping in a bed with springs, and your major life achievements being disregarded simply because no one thought to look?

I’ll tell you why: because it’s all making it into the next book. You might call this blog post the teaser…

Buy My Book Now, Or Else My Next One Will Be About You

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Kidding. (Not kidding.)

Okay you guys, my book was set to come out on Tuesday, June 4th. Tomorrow for me. Today at this point for some of you. Then I got an email today saying it would be delayed because of some bullshit on Amazon. I was so devastated. I threw myself around for about an hour. I asked tons of people for advice (because the Kindle and independent publisher DID have it available, so it would only be the Amazon thing holding up the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT). I emotionally ate probably ten times more calories than I should have.

Then I got home from running a bunch of stupid errands (because of course, on a “me” day when the MIL has the Pookies, the only natural thing to do is run errands rather than doing something actually for … me …); I got home from running those errands and I was like you know I’m going to look up the Kindle version of the book to make sure that is indexed properly too. If there was a screw up with one, there might be a screw up with the other right?

And then it happened. I saw that the snafu had been resolved. My book is available in Paperback on Amazon, as well as for a Kindle device or Kindle App.

OH MY GOD. MY BOOK IS AVAILABLE ON PAPERBACK ON AMAZON, AS WELL AS FOR A KINDLE DEVICE OR KINDLE APP.

… have you all regained consciousness?

MWABBUTTONSFor those of you relatively new around the block, I wrote a compilation book of never-before-seen tirades about being an adult, being a mom, and how I think men and husbands are absolutely horrifying. It isn’t just for moms or wives or women. Quite frankly, I think men could consider it a manual of what not to do (in spite of the fact that it is probably going to be considered by many as the most emasculating, man-hating book on the planet….).

To be clear: I am not a man-hater. I am just honest.

But because of this honesty, I thought it best to dub this one an investigation of sorts. Is it OK to be a bitch? Is there something true about anything I say – in my books, as well as on my blog? Am I insane, or do I really actually say things a lot of people think?

All questions answered in the book.

So here’s the deal. You are all going to watch the trailer for My Wife’s a Bitch. Right here! On this very blog post!

Then you are going to click on the picture below that best describes how you prefer to read your books. And you are going to buy the book.

Or else my next one will be about you.

You think I’m kidding? I mean I am (not really). But once you read the book, maybe you will take me more seriously. (Or not.) Only time will tell.

The last thing you are going to do (or suffer my wrath) is post a review on Amazon, like the book on Amazon, post your comments about it on Goodreads, and MORE THAN ANYTHING – share this motherfucker into the ground. SHARE SHARE SHARE!

You remember in health class in high school when they did that glitter thing to prove how fast STDs spread? One person got some glitter on her hand and had to move around the classroom, suddenly there was glitter everywhere and we were all cowering in fear that this might have meant we somehow caught some weird form of chlamydia. I want you to share this bitch right now like you shared that glitter chlamydia in high school health class.

So without further ado, My Wife’s A Bitch. Because I am.

To buy for download on your Kindle, Kindle Fire, or Kindle APP ($4.99)

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To buy an unsigned paperback from Amazon.com ($9.99 – marked down to $9.24)

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To buy a signed paperback directly from the author ($24.99 – free shipping in the United States)

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Calling All Book Reviewing Bloggers…

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… who don’t mind using the word “Bitch” in their blogs…

I’m looking for five, fine and fancy free bloggers to make a solid commitment to review my book, coming out on Tuesday, June 4th – My Wife’s A Bitch. As a part of the review, you’ll receive: a free, signed copy of the book for you to keep, a press packet, and a My Wife’s A Bitch Swag Pack.

The deal is that you have to post the review on your blog no later than June 30th.

If you are interested in doing a review, and getting all that cool stuff that comes along with doing it, please post your best contact information in the comments of *this blog post.* If there becomes an overwhelming amount of people interested, I’ll either increase the number of people doing reviews (and receiving the freebies too); or will choose reviewers on May 28th via Randomizer.org.

… and in case you missed the trailer…