Heather Christena Schmidt

Mom, first * Writer, second * Misanthrope, always

I was at Barnes and Noble yesterday. I know what you’re all thinking – but wait, we thought you hated going anywhere during the holidays! Well, I do. But I had to go to Barnes and Noble to get what was apparently the last, mangled copy of the map of the world in all of …

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Are you in your 30s? I am. I mean I’m really 28. Again. But according to my driver’s license I am officially a 30-something. Screw you, DMV. In any event, I am still really good friends with a lot of my friends from high school. And as the years have gone on, people I knew …

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Hah! Man … did I fool you suckers. There would be so many terrible, terrible; horrific things about me saying those words in earnest. For one, that would have necessarily required me to experience an awkward 30 seconds with my husband some time in the last month. Yes, that’s right: Poor Nick and I would …

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… hunt you down and show you a picture of a cow giving birth to a pig. Okay, I guess I’ve already done that now. Gross, huh? … cry all day long until my screaming tears of pain and mental anguish are so loud the neighbors have me hauled off in an ambulance and a …

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Sometimes when I’m out to lunch with my dad, he’ll say something along the lines of: “yeez, Heather … you should probably stop woofing down those french fries like there’s no tomorrow, or you’ll have to upgrade to big girl panties.” The oddity that is our father-daughter repertoire aside, I always think of this when I …

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