Complaining about my terrific life on Facebook wasn't enough anymore. It was good for a quick thrill, like a mojito or a hastily gobbled bag of Tootsie Rolls, but I wanted more. I was addicted to bitching and needed another forum. (Besides my 65+ book back list, FB, Twitter, e-mails, and this blog. Yes, I'm aware the first step in tackling my problem is admitting my problem. Hush up.) 

I brought my "problem" to the attention of USA Today, who graciously allowed me a bi-weekly column where I compare the awesomeness of being an international best-selling author to the awesomeness of being a wife and mother. (One of those jobs is sexy and impressive. The other is more important, but taken seriously by almost no one except SAHMs.) 

So behold! The first of many ruminations to come. My editor had only one request: "Try to keep the language family-friendly," to which I replied with great dignity, "You go straight to hell, beeyatch!" (Really inappropriate, right? I should have known better. No one says beeyatch anymore.) This column is obscenity-free, though at one point I describe sneezing blood all over my windshield. Never say I didn't warn you.

The horror is here.