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I’m writing this tonight on my iPad because my laptop is going through a major overhaul due to corrupted files and some malware. THE HORROR! Anyway, I don’t know that I’ll get it back tonight. Bummer. My hero and heroine are desperate for me to get back to screwing up their lives.

So I’m watching television and screwing around on other devices. Something caught my attention. Imagine how shocked I was that I got distracted.

Anyway – here’s what’s up.

HI! I'm totally not noxious, I assure you.

HI! I’m totally not noxious, I assure you.

I understand from one of my primary supplier of current events, John Oliver of Last Week Tonight, New Zealand is being overrun by wallabies. They are calling them “noxious animals.” I haven’t discussed this with Ava yet, but I’m fairly confident that she’ll support any plea for any animal I come up with, just as I would if the situation were reversed.

Here we go.

“Dear New Zealand,

Please send two “noxious” wallabies. We need two because there are two of us and we wouldn’t want them to get lonely. We will take very good care of her. Or him. Or them. Any wallaby will do. I think the names Rosie and Linus are excellent names for wallabies.


The Quill Sisters – Amylynn and Ava Bright (we’re totally sane – our mother had us tested)”



September 19


Well, the news reports that we were going to be washed away were greatly exaggerated. We’ve put away the life jackets and we’re using our sandbags to build a fort. It’s a no boys allowed fort unless you’re Johnny Depp, Tom Hardy, Robert Downey, Jr, Neil Degrasse Tyson, or the ghost of Christopher Hitchens. If you are any of those people we implore you to call us immediately. We have your ID cards ready for the Quill Sisters Honorable Mention Society. We’re picking up our mascot very soon. We can’t tell you what the mascot is or where we’re getting it from that way you’ll have plausible deniability when Interpol comes to question you. Here are somequattroporte-ermenegildo-zegna-limited-edition_100458294_l other funny things.

1. The Official Automobile of the QS. Behold! The Maserati Quattroportte Ermenegildo Zegna Special Edition. We went to the Maserati website and built just a regular Maserati, not a special edition version–just your run of the mill Maserati–and it cost $130,000. Ours will be blue with brown leather interior and we shall name him Gianni. (Ava here – I’m getting the limited edition model.  It’s $175,000 but I think Ed would want me to have it.) We’re not allowing any children in Gianni. Children refuse to respect the Maserati. YOU WILL RESPECT THE MASERATI. You know there are some things the Italian really have a grasp hillary's elephanton–sports cars and prosciutto. No — not even if you’re one of the honorary members listed above–you many NOT eat prosciutto in the Maserati.

  • 2. The best seat saver ever. At New York Fashion Week this year, the Oscar de laRenta show hosted this adorable elephant in every single chair with a letter form Hillary and Chelsea Clinton urging them to support the Wildlife Conservation Society, the Nature Conservancy, and Conservation International who are working so hard to protect wild elephants. 96 elephants a day are killed by poachers for their ivory. That’s reprehensible. We love elephants. If anyone at the de la
    boa constrictor

    Julius Squeezer

    Renta show doesn’t want their cutie elephant, send it our way. We’ll love it and keep it and name it Lollipop.

3. Another alarming reason not to go outside. This time things are running amok in Nampa, Idaho. There is a 9-foot Columbian boa constrictor on the loose. What the hell a 9-foot boa is doing in Idaho, no one can answer other than to say it escaped from its cage. What they will tell you is that it last ate three weeks ago. How often do these things eat? What do they eat? Prince HarryAuthorities urged anyone who sees it to call the police and NOT try to catch it themselves. Okay. Can they out slither a Maserati?

4. Prince Harry, Prince Charming. Prince Harry was attending the Invictus Games Closing Ceremonies. He had met several of the athletes over the course of the games including Adam Nixon, the team captain for the Great Britain wheelchair basketball team. The Foo Fighters played the closing ceremonies and Harry noticed that Mr. Nixon’s five-year-old girl couldn’t see the band because she was too short. Harry scooped her up and plopped her on his shoulders and they danced that way for the remainder of the show. Now of course, little Isabelle is cronutcompletely and unabashedly in love with Harry, even now insisting that she’s a real princess. She’ll be ruined for all other men.

5. Early donut orders. So we were sent to Basha’s with the corporate credit card for croissant donuts this morning. They only had one left. We flung ourselves on the floor, right there in the bakery, in front of the glass display cabinets, and had a fit. The clerk was completely nonplused. She quietly put the orphan croissant donut in a box then called for security. As they were taking our picture to put on their employee bulletin board under the Prohibited Patron section, she suggested that we could call ahead on Thursday to order our donuts ahead of time. Of course now we have to find someone else to go pick them up.

Sigh…such a let down

So last week we got soooo much rain in one day. So much rain. I’ll not lie to you. It was exciting. Desert people get giddy when it rains. And honestly, we have such blasé weather that anything out of the ordinary makes us excited. That much rain in such a short amount of time is a recipe for light-headedness.

That looks...scary

That looks…ominous

Imagine how excited we were when the second round came up. This week the newscasters lost their ever-loving minds over the impending storm. Hurricane Odile was coming. We watched the Doppler radar and the internet notifications with laser intensity. A massive sandbag creation effort was launched by the city. Officials begged us to stay in our homes – apparently the homes that were going to be shortly under water. A dude from the Weather Channel came to town, excited and  woozy from what was sure to be a biblical storm. They assured us on Tuesday of an 80% chance of rain, 100% that night, and 100% all day Wednesday.


They were talking crazy – like up to 6 inches expected. Do you have any idea what 6 inches of rain in a one or two-day period would do to our area? You can’t discount the previous week’s rain already saturated the ground so this new dousing wouldn’t even soak in. The bridges would all be closed, and there was a serious possibility – if all this came to fruition – that bridges, streets, houses would wash away. Seriously.

More of this, they said

More of this, they said

Perhaps we’re all loony down here in the desert, but all the activity took on a carnival atmosphere.

Nothing happened on Tuesday. The sky was ominous and we could smell it in the air, but nary a drop of significance fell. We felt a bit let down, but we knew it was coming. The people in the know updated the forecast and promised an onslaught at 6pm.

When we left the office, things were clearing up and we could actually see blue sky. What the hell? Still, they promised. They stood there next to the already running river beds that had been dry only the previous week, and looked up at the sky like they expected to find alien space craft up there or, I don’t know, the hand of God or something holding a pitcher of water to dump on us.

100% remember?

We drove home and battened down our hatches. We made chili and stew and homemade soup even though it was hotter than heck and humid. The idea of rain and thunder and lightning and such was making us nostalgic for cooler times.


There’s a street under there

I was up until 3am writing that night and I checked frequently for moisture. Nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch.

Wednesday morning. THE BIG DAY. 100%.

“IT’S COMING, PEOPLE. Go get your sandbags.” That’s what the morning news testified. Wednesday our mothers called Bank of No Forks and pleaded with us to go home. One of the nations largest defense contractors sent their entire staff home for fear of what would happen. The schools called parents and promised that they were watching and would notify us of school closures. Bosses communicated that buildings and streets would most certainly become unsafe and employees should be prudent.

The girls at the office all wore our most comfortable clothes and appropriate rubber shoes and we positioned ourselves in front of the office windows and waited. We had our umbrellas poised and ready.

We got nothing. Not a blessed drop.

Honest to god, the entire office was so depressed about it I can hardly explain.

Our faith in weather forecasting was tenuous at best before this ridiculousness. Now – we think they should all be lynched for getting our hopes up.

Sorta embarassed to admit my first was Rick Springfield

First, I would like to unequivocally state that I am not a helicopter mom. I LOVE it when my kids do stuff and it’s totally ok for them to fail, too. I figure it’s good for their character to try again and see that hard work and dedication is a valuable character trait.

That being said…

I let Sassy go to a rock concert for the first time. She’s 11. Granted, there’s a parent with her and her friend so they’re not unsupervised. one direction

She went to see One Direction. Boy band for the uninitiated. It’s in an enormous arena – so that’s sorta scary.

It’s in a town two hours away. So that’s scarier.

There’s supposed to be another bout of rain from a Mexican hurricane tonight. That’s super scary.

But, I want my kids to have social lives. Growing up in 2014 is so vastly different from 1980. We had massive social lives with the 57 hundred kids that lived in my neighborhood. There are no kids that live on our street now. We rode our bikes all over hell and gone. I’d have a nervous breakdown if my kids rode where we did.

So I let her go to a concert.

BAH! It’s all gonna be fine, right?

What was your first concert?


Actually, she’s very nice–once you get past the eye rolling

Sassy called me from school very excited. She’d received a letter from her school that she was one of 35 students chosen because of an essay she bens bellswrote. Obviously, I am super proud of her. She’s going to get to work on a massive mural that’s going up in the school. This involves field trips and all kinds of special privileges.

All because she wrote one of the best essays about being kind.

Kind. Being kind.

Not if you ask her brother.

“I’m so proud of you,” I told her. “You write fiction just like your mother!”

Where am I supposed to go?

None of us has a Subaru. We’re not plugging this car unless the Subaru people are so impressed by our blog (we’re very influential by the way) that they would like to reward us with one.

Still, we love this commercial. This kid is freakin’ hysterical. Love the line at the ATM when he yells at the honker, “I’m FIVE!”

September 12


Another week gone by.  Another week of pain and suffering at Bank of No Forks.  Nope, nothing unusual happened just the ordinary nonsense of not enough to do and the trouble caused by us because of it. The good news is that we contained our misdeeds to IHOP (who totally deserved it) and the Torture Chamber (Skinjectables – seriously, that’s what they call that place where you give a woman a zillion dollars to rip your face off. Trust her, you’ll look

Wait! What the hell is happening here?

Wait! What the hell is happening here? We get charged $600 when we poke our finger in the cage and he gets to touch it?

younger. Amylynn thinks that’s because they’re growing new faces in an Igloo cooler in the back room). Aside from laughing at ourselves, we also laughed at the following:

1. A baby! We’re so excited that Kate and William, Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, are having another baby. We also bet that George will be excited about it, too, as soon as he’s old enough to figure out what’s coming. It’s all fun and games cause those babies are cute and they giggle and stuff. Then, Georgie my boy, pretty soon they start touching your stuff. Nothing is sacred, that baby won’t care if you are the Prince of Wales and going to be THE King of England someday. And they monopolize your mom. The Sisters also have some advice for the expecting parents, too. DON’T DO IT! The first kid goes super

Holy shit!

Holy shit!

smoothly and you think that you totally know how to do this. How much more difficult could one child be? Oh, oh, oh. You have no idea the level of craptastic frustration you’re bringing on yourself. That second child is trouble. Trust us. We know.

2. Just stay no to snakes. This next story is another example of horrendously bad reporting in newspapers. In Thousand Oaks, CA. the police reported they caught a deadly albino cobra that had been on the loose for days. That alone poses several questions. It gets worse during the next sentence. “However it wasn’t immediately clear whether the albino snake – which apparently escaped from captivity – still had its venom glands.” Why would they think that might be a possibility? There are so many questions here. We say that if you’re missing a cobra and you call it in to the police and you KNOW that it’s missing a major viper component, don’t you think you

We bet if we were Prince George they'd let us touch it.

We bet if we were Prince George they’d let us touch it.

should fully disclose all that? We’re just sayin’.

3. More reasons not to go outside. In case you were thinking about venturing out into the great wide open, we’re suggesting that you reconsider. We have two very specific examples on why it’s a bad idea. A mountain lion attacked a 6-year-old boy while he was out hiking with his family. Everyone calm down. He’s expected to recover. Police stated, “We don’t know the exact circumstances of the attack.” We suspect that kid looked like a tasty morsel. The only way to avoid this happening in the future is to snatch all the baby mountain lions and make them love you. The Sisters are volunteering. We’d like hazard pay. The next instance involved an actress, Molly Glynn from Chicago Fire. She was out riding her bike (first mistake – Mr. Bright are you lobsterslistening?) when she was killed by a falling tree during a storm (second mistake – why are you biking in a storm?) Who the hell thinks they are going to die like that? Who? Bicyclists should expect bullshit like this. Again, we’re just sayin’.


These are not our fingers. Ours photograph fat.

4. More lobster shenanigans. Remember last week we reported a blue lobster. This week two albinos and a yellow one popped up. The blue lobster was one in 2 million. The yellow one is one in 30 million and the albino ones are one in 100 million. What’s with the flurry of crazy ass lobsters? Either the scientists are completely full of hooey or the lobsters are just messing with our heads. That’s the theory we’re going with. They’re probably down there in the ocean, speaking with Northeastern accents and plotting their next escapade.  And arranging for their next dye job.

5. Jamberry. Sometimes we do our nails. Sometimes = damn near every day. We really don’t have anything else to do with our time. The World’s Greatest Receptionist had a friend come in who sells Jamberry. She brought in samples and we all did our nails with their products. They are these vinyl wraps that are water proof and last for weeks. There are 300 designs. Well, the verdict is in and we LOVE them. We’ll keep you posted on whether or not they last on Amylynn since she’s complete hell on nails.

Adventures in self control

I got to take part in one of the world’s most frustrating experiences yesterday. I got to call the Help Desk. Or the UnHelp Desk. Just like every where else, this has mostly been outsourced to India so I wasn’t the least bit surprised when the guy answered the phone with a thick accent. I was however surprised when he identified himself as John.


Our phones go through our computers. It’s a giant pain in the ass.  I explained to them that my desk phone isn’t ringing. I can talk on it as evidenced by the fact that we were indeed speaking on it at that very moment. However, when someone called in there was no auditory signal to alert me that was occurring. I assured him my ringer was turned on and that I heard other noises coming from the magic box.

John: OK, can I have your call back number?

Me: I don’t have a direct line. You have to call the main customer service number, put in your account number and you’ll end up at my desk.

John: What’s the account number?

At this point I’m not sure if “John” has any idea where I work. I explained that one of the 70 gazillion customers would have to put in THEIR account number. Just any random number wouldn’t work.

Me: I want to remind you that the reason I’m contacting your department is that my phone doesn’t ring. Dexter on phone

John: Hmmmm.

“John” proceeded to make techie noises and repeatedly asked me to hold. I gave answers that were sarcastic at best. Truth be told, they probably leaned more towards caustic. I agreed to hold.

Eventually when he returned, he informed me he was going to give me a ticket number and a specialist would call me back.

John: Can I have your phone number?

Me: (making a Herculean effort to control myself) John, do you remember the reason that I’m calling? My phone doesn’t ring.

John: Uh huh.

Me: Alright, I’m going to need you to read me what you have written down for my problem because I don’t feel like you have any idea what our conversation has been about.

I took down my ticket number. It’s been two days and I’ve heard nothing. Isn’t that shocking? Soooooo, if you’re calling me at work that’s why I never answer.

That and Dexter is on. I’ll be checking my messages during an intermission.

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