The Introduction

I hate being typical. I know. How fricking typical is that? (Prude disclaimer: I am in no way opposed to the word "fucking"; in fact, I had it in there first. But I am a journalist, and "fricking" just sounds so much better.)

Anyway, so here I am, on typical Google, for God's sake, typing a typical blog like 4 billion other typical chicks screaming toward middle age on a well-lubed luge.

I also:
1) Have "issues" with my mother-in-law.
2) Have bigger "issues" with her son.
3) Wonder whether I'll ever fit in.
4) Could stand to "tone up" in 89 specific spots.
5) Am blogging for therapy.

Fucking, fricking typical.

Until I tally the counterstrikes:
1) I do not think Tom Hanks is a good actor.
2) I work, as they say, at "a major metropolitan daily" that actually prints a newspaper, which is probably a lot like heading up Bush's Nobel Peace Prize application process -- not a lot of bright, shiny prospects there.
3) I am a natural blond (but not everywhere).
4) I have the planet's most sensitive nose.
5) I am not divorced. Or having an affair. Or looking.

So I'm torn. Can you be atypical and still fit in? Can you be so atypical that you're typical? Can you be atypical on purpose?

But, most importantly, can a blog bring you self-definition, catharsis, insight, constructive feedback and some degree of happiness? Or a book deal?

Let's find out.