Beth is a communications gun-for-hire, wordsmith, twin mom and cancer widow.
She outsources with a vengeance.
She believes strikes are bad, boundaries are good, and that being folksy is overrated.
Once, she dislocated her hip attempting to do a fake striptease.
She prefers humor to be profane and absurd.
She will punch you if you call her a “mommy” or “widow” blogger.
She thinks your relationship with the god of your choice is your own damn business.
She walks behind the elephants. She fixes $6 haircuts. She is the Master of Time, Space and Dimension, part-time demigod, and 3/4 car wreck. Like Elvis, she’s everywhere. Try and get rid of her.
She is very happy you’re reading Disaster Fatigue. She may be a hot fancy mess, but YOU are very pretty.