Confessions of a recovering perfectionist.
The summer of 1983 I was 9 years old and I was going to marry Satan. I didn’t care if the only wall between me and the hoards of hell was my Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag. I was going to usher forth this dark union and Grandma was going to help me do it.
The Melania Monster isn't the only wacky first lady we've had.
We have tricks and treats planned for you this October.