Just Call Me Erma

I've had people tell me I'm the Latina Erma Bombeck with a dirty mouth. Okay, I'll take that. The Divine Ms. Erma is the one who set the comedic bar just high enough for the rest of us to have to work to reach it. Pardon me while I grab my step stool...

I remember my father having one of her books in his little library. Having been raised in a household with four sisters and then moving on to father five girls probably set the man up for a serious need to find a way to laugh at the hormonal hell he was living, so really, it all makes sense. I was old enough to read and tall enough to reach the book shelf but not quite old enough to know when I was supposed to laugh because relating wasn't exactly in my vocabulary.

Then I grew up. Got married. Pushed a baby out my hooha. And suddenly the world of Bombeck became hysterical. So when I found the Army of Ermas site, I naturally tweet-stalked its creator into letting me guest post. Turns out Stacey likes her writers a little on the saucy side and she asked me to officially join the crew.


My first post as an official Erma can be found here. Pretend I'm the new kid in class and you feel obligated to ask me to play with you at recess so the teacher doesn't get pissy I'm being left out. In other words: Go. Read. Comment. And?

Thank you.