Who the Hell Am I, and What the Heck Am I Doing Here?

It's a good question, and one I find myself asking just frequently enough to keep me grounded.

Who are you?
I'm a Fake Housewife. I'm a Southern gal and a progressive skeptical rationalist atheist feminist damnliberal who wants nothing more than to move to a country cottage with her husband and bake cakes and raise babies. I'm a Redditor and an artist.

What are you doing here?
Kind of a long story. I'm sure we've all felt that the economy in the last few years has been kind of like a cheap carnival roller coaster operated by a junkie. (Or at least I have.) I've been on one hell of a ride with that thing; employed, laid off, unemployed, underemployed, and mostly hanging on for dear life, wondering if I'm going to make it and why a smart kid with experience and a degree can't seem to make it out of poverty. A little over a year ago my then-fiance and I packed it up and moved to the big city of Atlanta to pursue my dream of becoming a freelance comic book artist. I had a part-time retail job just to get a regular paycheck, but I dumped it recently so I could focus on art and spend more time with my family. I keep house, I cook, I draw pictures, and now I blog.

That's How Mama Likes What Now?
If you're a fan of Amy Poehler and the twisted shenanigans on "Upright Citizens Brigade," it all makes sense. Some days I just feel like a cynical, slightly trashed and slightly trashy broad who's a step or two away from a few boozy shenanigans myself.

What's a Fake Housewife?
You've seen them "Real Housewives" shows, right? If not, you're not missing much. It's just a series of romps by a bunch of tarted-up skanks with too much money and attitude but a strangely low amount of self-esteem. They don't work, they don't raise their own kids, they don't clean their own houses; they really don't do much but drink and fight and go shopping, it seems like. If that's what it takes to be a "Real Housewife," then I'm a gatdamn fake. I still make time for drinking, though.