Katie Schwartz

Doreen Orion is the author of newly released Queen of the Road , "The True Tale of 47 States, 22,000 Miles, 200 Shoes, 2 Cats, 1 Poodle, a Husband, and a Bus with a Will of its Own." She's also a humor essayist and has written many stellar essays, a few can be found on Huffington Post here and here . Run. Read. Now. Fab . Recently, Doreen was featured on Nevada NPR . You must listen to her dish Queen of the Road . She also blogs, " Medicinal Musings from a Mobile Shrink, AKA Queen of the Road ". I'm sure you've seen her around All the Way from Oy to Vey, she's left deliciously sarcastic comments-- she's just like us. In this moment, Doreen is schlepping around the country reading and signing her book. I am looking forward to attending one of her readings because (A) she's a riot. (B) She wears a boa. (C) At her Las Vegas reading at Borders Books , an Elvis renewed one lucky couple's vows. what's not to love?! I just bought Queen of...

My mind wanders through inaneville when I take a 3-5 minute on-a-whim-shit , an unplanned evening, or late afternoon, shit, one that doesn’t need to be lured by freshly percolated coffee. Often, parading curiously through my weird ass brain is the origin of words: Who decided to call fluffy white squares marshmallows? Molestation, why marry “mole” and “station”, two perfectly independent, doable words and turn them into a big fuckin’ nightmare. Who was the decision maker behind that gem? Nomenclature screams mutton chops. One of the meanings of nomenclature is dictionary, vocabulary or glossary. Loving words, I should have an affinity for this one. I just can’t get behind nomenclature; it sounds and feels like decrepit, beyond repair, vintage furniture. And we all know how much Katie loves vinty everything. Last night’s on-a-whim-shit , my mind wandered, of course. What popped into my head wasn’t a word; it was a thought: I wonder what my psychiatrist looks like when he takes a dump. ...

Today is my favorite pharmacist's birthday DrugMonkey . If you would please be so kind as to click your gorgeous tuchas's to his bloggy blog and wish that child a very happy birthday, I would be most appreciative. He's such a love machine, a honey of a fellah. I am so grateful to him for oh so many reasons. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DRUG DADDY OF DOOM :) You know I wish you the world, child. XO Jewgirl

Teens Make Pregnancy Pact to get pregnant (WAIT, the pod just peeled. Back in a minee). I'm back. Didjya miss me? Just kidding. I think I whacked the pod. I plugged it in and it's not syncing up. It's okay, don't panic, I have another music source. I'm covered. Back to the topic at hand. Wait... Oh, right. Duh, Schwartzy. Six teenagers at Gloucester high school made a pregnancy pact. Consumed by determination, one broadette fucked a homeless chap. Can you imagine cruising homeless shelters for cock after school?! It's like a bad Families in Crisis daytime special. These girls want to be single mothers. Each month, they'd take pregnancy tests and sob when they got a "-" sign instead of a "+" sign. Though the school is one that practices abstinence (God forbid we educate American children about safe sex), the school nurse does provide pregnancy tests. Imagine her surprise when the same lot of 15-year-old's cried tears of joy when they...

I wrote an essay called Shitvitation in my forthcoming book. Bubbsie and Oldest Daughter know the essay cause'ns I read it at the Fixx Reading Series. In short, my apartment manager had a girating asstastic experience on my porcelain goddess while dishing on the phone with one of his chippies. Oh, what a shitmare it was, just ask B or Amy. Amy and I were furiously emailing back and forth during Shituardo's fiesta for party of one. On Monday, Shituardo and his sidekick, a lovely bloke who kindly smiles at everything I say, came over at 9AM to replace my tile-oleum with actual see-ramic tiles. Unprepared and terrified I'd be bombed again, I wrapped my toilet in duct tape and closed the door. I also offered up additional insurance, 20 bucks each for lunch. I spent the day standing guard in the living room as they ripped up the linoleum and replaced it with tiles or as my mother refers to them, teelays . By 4PM, the tiles were down and the shitwins were leaving for the day...

You must read FreidaBee's Love Letter to her Thyroid, Dear Thyroid, I miss You and I'm Sorry . I laughed. I cried. Regardless of whether you have a thyroid issue or not, her letter has a very positive healing affect. It's beauuutiful .

My sister sent me an email about Dita Legends , a new i-eyewear website. Her peeper windshields are all handcrafted and made of platinum, gun metal and every other, how-can-we-charge-more, metal, you can't think of. The above pair of specs are 750 DOLLARS. Take that in for a minute and just sit with it. Pause. Pause. Pause. SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS. Click here for deets. For 750 dollars, those glasses should: dispense advice, provide sexual bliss beyond my wildest expectations and quite frankly, the world should be viewed to my altruistic taste every time I wear them. Now it's your turn. What would a pair of 750 dollar glasses have to do for you?!?!