This is why I read her and you must read her, too:
...Man am I crabby. It makes me not want to write. When I am in a mood like this, my writing self does an eerie split-personality routine. With each paragraph I set the table, forks and knives and flowers and cloth napkins, glass of wine? Sure I'd love one. Oh won't this be nice. Let's eat! And then the other part of my head, the Drunk Dad from all those Irish Novels Of Great Domestic Misery, comes home with big boots tracking mud everywhere, and he is set off by some little nothing and the table's knocked over, the dishes are broken, the spaghetti is sliding down the wall, and then he's passed out on the couch while the rest of my psyche twists the dishtowel and says oh dear oh dear. Don't forget the kid part of my brain, headphones clamped on ears and nihilistic rap turned way up, thinking why even bother. And don't forget the narrator, third-person and entirely-too-omniscient, sitting back and saying ooooh you are so fucking clever with your little analogies.
...It does not help that everyone around me has been faithfully drinking their bitchjuice. Yesterday I was emailed a question and when I answered the question, five minutes later, the asker responded, "Thanks for repeating, I knew that already." I am sitting here looking at a timestamped email in which you did not "know that already," but how great that you can just configure reality to suit your needs. God. See I told you Drunk Dad would show up.
...the person's email was horrible too, full of "you really should" and "for future reference." Has anything good ever started with the words "for future reference"? Has anyone ever said, "For future reference, I will service you orally whenever you ask?" Or, "For future reference, please help yourself to this large pile of money?" No. "For future reference" is always followed by something shitty.
And then there's her daughter, Nora:
What currently knocks 'em dead on the preschool Comedy Hour is to add body parts to common nouns. Get in the car? Get in the EAR CAR! Ha ha ha ha ha! Get it? No? I guess you're not four years old.
Nora: When I grow up I'm going to make candy in a factory.
Me: Awesome. What kind of candy?
Nora [on the edge of cracking herself up]: KNEE CANDY! No wait, hair candy! [convulsive laughter] No, no, no, no, nose candy. I will make nose candy! Everyone will love my nose candy!
Me: People sure do love nose candy.
Nora: Yeah! They will say, "Do you have any more of that nose candy?" And I'll say, "Yes I do! Come on over!"
Me: You should probably have a cell phone, because sometimes people have some nose candy, and then they go out dancing, and then they want some more nose candy at like four in the morning.