Short Bio

When asked how she ended up in the US, Mickey will go into a detailed account of alien ninja mobsters chasing her across Niagara Falls with Taser guns and taxidermied were-beavers. Once she made it across the border, she forged a new identity as an extreme teddy bear biologist and paper folder.

Alas, she discovered you’re only as good as your last folded paper. So, she turned her talents to raising a couple of minions of evil in the hopes that one day, they would become criminally insane geniuses with goals of global domination.

Oh, and she writes too.

 

Other useless information:

I’m 41, divorced, a Sagittarius, and 5’7” on good days.

My son tells everyone I’m the funniest person he knows, and he knows funny!

I’m a reluctant catholic, and a lazy Buddhist.

My kids and I have a serious ‘2 Broke Girls’ addiction that we have no intention of curing.

 

What I’d like to write about:

Hmm let’s see, I love writing about snarky unicorns, wand-wielding witches and sorcerers that favor an alternative lifestyle.

If that’s not your thing, I also enjoy writing about home décor, DIY projects, traveling and relationships of the platonic and romantic variety.

Things My Car Says…

Ted was looking kinda sulky as I walked towards him in the Walmart parking lot.

Yeah, his name is Ted, so what?

Why would I name my minivan? Why do the birds sing, why does blah blah blah, stop asking so many questions so I can get one with my train of thought before I get distracted.

Oooh bunny pics!

bunny

Oh yeah, back to Ted.

His name just seemed to fit him. His engine tap dances the way Fred Astaire did in ‘The Gay Divorcee.’ Plus he’s the strong yet silent type, ie no alarm system. Not to mention he has a bad habit of popping his gasket like a cranky old man every now and then.

It used to be Fred, but honestly, the kids kept calling Ted so it stuck.

Back to the parking lot at Walmart…I parked him around some cute cars. A baby blue Prius, a cheeky cherry red Camry and a muy caliente Audi. But when I returned, there poor Ted sat, all alone, with only a crow sitting on his hood for company.

 

crow

 

And honestly, he seemed kinda grumpy.

That’s when I started to wonder about the things Ted whispers to other parked cars when I’m not looking.

Like…

“Sup, it’s not the gas mileage that counts; it’s the way my engine revs, baby, vroom!”

Or…

“Ola Chica, your sexy hatchback is making me overheat!”

Last, and probably least favorite…

“Woah honey, you’re really cranking my driveshaft!”