Let’s get you something to read, shall we?
In addition to OCD, I have Hashimoto’s Disease, I’ve had numerous boob extractions (aka breast biopsies), and I went through menopause while you were still in diapers. I’ll hook you up with lots of information about these things. Brace yourself. I use lots of fancy medical terms like, “son of a bitch,” and “that hurt like a mother trucker.”
And now, for your reading pleasure. Sort of.
I cook, even though I’m really bad at it. Until my son was blessed with a step-mother, he thought chocolate chip cookies were crunchy black discs and chicken was always served in jerky form.
That doesn’t stop me from occasionally sharing my kitchen adventures with you.
I sometimes review places I visit. Hotels, restaurants, bathrooms. Don’t get me wrong – I’m terrible at writing reviews and for whatever reason, I write them much like a gorilla in captivity with only a 1996 mobile phone might write them. But, still.
Oh, and I wrote a book. Disclaimer: I didn’t have an editor, so if you’re going to lose your natural mind over spelling, grammar and my overuse of the phrase, “motherless goat,” you should hang onto your $2.99 like grim death.
Otherwise I encourage you to purchase it at once. All the best people do.
So that’s a brief introduction to Sher Bailey. You should use the search function over there somewhere and type in any word you can imagine to see if I’ve written about it. I probably have. (Tip: start with “flabbergasted.” It’ll probably be the only time you type that word this month.)