Yup, it’s true you can now pre-order Freak of Nurture directly from Topside. Of course, once you PRE ORDER it won’t be a long wait until your order is in order because it’s coming out in May 18th!

In the meantime, in case you’re all “wait…wha..what is that

book about anyway?” I made a Venn Diagram to explain:

Hope that clears it up.

Hope that clears it up.

Dude, Why A Funeral Home?

When we were making the plans for the NYC Release Party of Freak of Nurture I talked with the lovely women at the Sealy Cuyler Funeral Home* about having the reading there. They sagely asked “Why a funeral home? Are you at all worried that this will make people uncomfortable?”

The short answer is : Yo, I’ve had two partners die in a period of seven years. Of the same disease. At the same exact age. I make people uncomfortable by walking in the room. Let’s have some fun with it!

If you’re still not down with the idea of coming to a funeral home for a book party, I came up with a list of reasons why it’s going to be awesome. Pick your favorite:

1. Opportunity to see the inside of a really cool, bright green funeral home without someone you love dying.

See? Totally cool looking.

See? Totally cool looking.

2. Deal with your own fear of death for free instead of paying your sliding scale therapist  to say annoying things like “how does that make you feel?” when it’s already 100 percent obvious how you feel.

3. Be able to cruise for a date in a funeral home setting without being a complete anti-social jerk.

4. Laugh really hard at the readings I’ll be doing and thus reinforce neural pathways that deal with trauma AND help you remember where you left your apartment keys.

5. Have something cool to do on a Saturday afternoon so you can go home and watch teeveee on Saturday night with a clear social conscience.

6. Space is all ages and wheelchair accessible and vegan. Well mostly it’s vegan because you can’t serve food there on account of the board of health prohibiting eating & drinking at funeral homes. So much for my funeral home/frozen pizza theme restaurant idea.

7. Cause you’re a badass.

8. Cause you’re a New Yorker and you think things like this are cool and you might even wear your skinny jeans and flannel shirt just to show how ironically not ironic about being ironic you are.

9. Cause you want to support me on my big day, and you know I’m never going to have a wedding because of my Black Widow reputation. I mean, not saying I CAUSE cancer, just saying you probably shouldn’t get married to me if you’ve ever been a smoker or worked in an asbestos factory.

10. Because you’re going to laugh your head off. But not literally. But even if you did literally laugh your head off, no worries because you’re totally already at a funeral home.

The NYC release party is Saturday, May 18th at 4 pm at Sealy Cuyler Funeral Home 1084 Pacific (C or S to Franklin Avenue) Brooklyn NY 11238. Totally free. More details and updates on the facebook event.

* Sealy Cuyler is women-owned, and POC owned. And they’re really kind and caring and knowledgeable and LGBTfriendly. So if your plans call for use of funeral home, I bet they’d be a good pick.


In order to embrace the suffering caused by life as a Missionary of Charity, our Mistress insisted, we should meditate on the sufferings of Jesus. Holy Week, the week in which Roman Catholics everywhere obsess about Jesus’ torture and death on the cross, provided a convenient opportunity to do this.

MC Holy Week is like a trip to Disneyworld, if Disneyworld had been designed by Marquise de Sade.

"I'm surrounded by women!"

“Woohooooo, I’m surrounded by women!” was the extent of my spiritual ecstasy.


We spent our time in penance and listening to endless and gruesome recitations about the crucifixion. We did the Stations of the Cross sometimes morning and night, each time starting with “Jesus is condemned to die/God through sin I crucify.”

Well that and bread and oil. Okay that was breakfast.

And breakfast. And lunch. And tea.

I agreed, yes, Jesus was being killed was very bad. But I didn’t see why we had to hear about it in such revolting and graphic detail. If you can imagine having a copy of the coroner’s report from an X-Files episode read to you while you were trying to eat dinner, you get the picture.

Oh the guilt mongering! During Holy Week we constantly chanted the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy, which involves saying “for the sake of his sorrowful passion” no less than fifty times. We were supposed to be remembering that Jesus died because of our sins, each of our individual sins.


It seemed both devastatingly depressing and hopeless codependent to me. If a friend saved your life by grabbing you out of the street just as a speeding car almost ran you down, you’d be plenty grateful. But if that same friend demanded you verbally acknowledge that fact a couple dozen times every day and then dedicate a special week to thinking about nothing other than that moment when they grabbed you, after a while you’d hate your friend. After a few years of that you might even wish they had let you take your chances on street, or at the very least told you what the expectation was going to be before they saved you.


We also spent the week cleaning our already spotless convent. As we scrubbed the underside of a sink with a toothbrush, wiped imaginary dust from the doorjambs and disinfected the ceilings, Sister Milagro would ask “When we see things are neat and orderly, what does it remind us of?”

It reminded me of obsessive-compulsive disorder, but it turns out the right answer was “God.”

I was continually confused by Sister Milagro’s questioning. It felt like I was the perpetual losing contestant on the “Who Wants To Be A Living Saint” game show. In retrospect, I would have done okay if I’d learned to rotate three answers: “God,” “The Virgin Mary” and “Because I suck as a human being.”

Holy Week was also when we were introduced to the book True Devotion to Mary, which is a book designed especially to pulverize self esteem. One section reads: “We are all more evil than serpents, more stubborn than donkeys, more stupid than oxen, more slothful than pigs.” Sister Milagros shared this portion with us in chapel one night and I fell over laughing. Something about the random animal comparisons and the bizarreness of the ritual just struck me as funny. Who said are oxen are stupid? By whose measure? Of course, the harder I tried not to laugh, the harder I laughed, and then my other group sisters started to laugh, and then we were all shaking with silent giggles.

Sister Lisa was seeking the face of Jesus. I was seeking...I don't know.

Sister Lisa was seeking the face of Jesus. I was seeking…I don’t know.


So after asking what was so funny, Sister Milagros just threw up her hands and said, “Very well sisters, just go to bed. You will not be able to keep Jesus company tonight.”

We were supposed to be having all night adoration of the Blessing Sacrament and as usual, we were exhausted. As I brushed my teeth, I confess I thought, “That certainly worked out well.”

New surprises came every day, each more unpleasant than the last. Especially memorable was the morning Sister Milagro lectured us about why, if we really loved Jesus, we would mortify ourselves by using the bathroom no more than once a day. This seemed so ludicrous to me, I thought she must be kidding. So I started to laugh. She was neither kidding nor amused by my reaction. She was even less amused when she overheard me whispering to another member of my group, “Great. Just call me Sister Mary Bladder Infection.”

Another rather unsavory surprise came as a result of the time we spent in the chapel. We knelt for prayer on the bare concrete floor for three hours and forty-five minutes each day. Because of this, we developed oozing calluses on our knees which would stick to our habits when we knelt, rip open when we got up, and begin oozing again. We explained to our mistress how this was wreaking havoc with our laundry which-of course-we washed by hand. She pointed to the crucifix. “What wound do you think you are making in Jesus’ tender flesh when you complain about spending time with him?”

My response might have been a tad sarcastic: “Oh, sister those wounds aren’t from us. All those wounds were already there. I guess they were made by the sisters who had so little love for Jesus they went to the bathroom twice today.”

New York Release: In a funeral home, naturally….

Guess what? We’ve got a time & place for the New York release of FREAK OF NURTURE and it’s going to be off.the.chain.

Sealy Cuyler Funeral Home (aka the Bright Green Funeral Home by the Franklin Avenue Shuttle Stop) is kind enough to let us use their space for the book reading; we’ll have a number of interesting and entertaining guest readers and then we’ll have a reception at a nearby venue (no food or drink in funeral places, that’s a Department of Health thing, which makes sense).

Here’s the details:







The first review is in….

Damn. This is a nice one.

“Nothing anytime, anywhere can be funnier than real life happenings and this is what Dunham does—she tells us real stories from her life that really get us laughing and I have to admit that I had to put the book down several times because I was laughing that hard. Yet in all of the humor there is a serious message about being oneself and while we laugh we also learn and not many writers have the ability to make us do that.”

                        -Amos Lassen, read the rest of the review here