Sarah Bird
Features
Desperate Housewives
In this excerpt from writer-at-large Sarah Bird’s new novel, How Perfect Is That, the realities of life in early twenty-first century Austin become all-too-clear to a defrocked socialite.
Columns | Miscellany
Meat, My Maker
When Dallas’s very own Marvin Lee Aday—that’s Meat Loaf to you—optioned one of my screenplays, he didn’t just offer me a glimpse of paradise by the dashboard lights. He also helped me write a novel.
Sink or Swim
In an excerpt from Sarah Bird's new novel The Gap Year, a single mom prepares to send her only daughter off to college. Guess which one is a wreck.
Hedda Garbler
Help! My voice recognition software is making me save airy funnel things witch nobody wonder Stans.
One Angry Woman
Am I the only person who has always wanted to get picked for jury duty?
Rats!
Turns out being a test subject for a dermatology research lab is not the best thing that could ever happen to a girl.
Mammary Dearest
It was the breast of times, it was the worst of times.
Ranch Blessing
Or, how I stopped worrying and learned to love my formerly ugly, recently hip, linoleum-clad, mid-mod house.
Members Only
All my friends are going to be status updates.
Ready, Set, Go-Go!
Every female on earth believes she can dance. My big break came when a Bob Hope wannabe with shiny suits and a pinkie ring took me on as his sidekick for a two-week tour of Tokyo.
Hack Like Me
My trashy, sordid, steamy, decently paid turn as a writer for the pulps.
Dishing
Eating high on the hog when you’re low on the totem pole.
The Goodbye Boy
My only son is leaving for college, and I’m weeping through Mamma Mia! Lord help me.
Hard Knocks
Introducing the Dean of Doors, in all his doorificence.
Lactation Nation
Putting the fun in fun bags! The mommy in mommy muffins! (I could go on.)
This Year’s Model
Hey, captains of industry: If Dr. Evil can have a Mini Me, why can’t the rest of us?
In a Lather
My Petco encounter with a shampoo celebrity.
Geezer Nation
Greetings from Snowbirdlandia! Wish you were old.
Home Groan
One year (okay, two days) of livin’ la vida locavore.
Craigslust
Suburban mom seeks motorcycle jacket.
The Triptych to Bountiful
Let’s go to the science fair!
Hog Wild
I subject myself to yet another seminal Texas experience: the hunt.
No Ifs, Abs, Or Butts
My instructor is a Flabbo Nazi, and other tales from the aerobics wars.
Lark of The Covenant
Bill Zedler’s plan to keep me married—forever.
The Price Is Rite
Getting in touch with my inner bargain hunter.
Good-bye, Mrs. Chips
My short, happy life as a poker player.
Tour De Farce
The absurdity of the college visit (and why you should leave your kids at home).
Horn ’Em, Hookers!
Texas versus Iowa State versus me.
Snakes on a Brain
The day I slithered from movie theater to movie theater.
Neck And Neck
Nora Ephron’s wattle, and Ann Richards’s, and mine.
Going Private
Teen Boy’s sugar-free education.
My Dirty Little Secret
I’m a slob. There, I said it. Now don’t mess with me.
Pedal to My Mettle
Teen Boy gets behind the wheel.
Meet the Needles
A few sore points about HMOs— and two thumbs-up for the acupuncturist.
Step Lively
My dancing feet. And, hopefully, yours.
The Furs Were Flying
There is a world where the kings of small African countries send cases of Dom Pérignon as hostess gifts, where you get to choose between the white-striped chinchilla and the violet beaver shearling poncho. Who let me in?
Buy, Buy, Birdie
Ladies’ fashion is nothing if not a fantasy inside an illusion wrapped in a thong. Every season, there is a new “look,” a new “trend,” a new “paranoid schizophrenic thought disorder.” And then there are returns.
Writer Is to Amateur …
Living proof that moms shouldn’t take the SAT.
Say “Cheesy”
The quest for the perfect author photo (or at least one I can live with).
Mass Appeal
My short, happy life as a Catholic schoolgirl.
And the Celly Goes to...
That jerkwad talking on his phone in the movie theater.
Read ’Em and Weep
Man, do I hate book clubs.
Birds Off a Wire
My family unplugs (for a few days).
Permission: Impossible
What high school is really like.
Altar Peace
It can be achieved—if you have a surprise wedding.
Music to My Years
When did I stop being cool?
Passion Victim
My short, unhappy life as a romance novelist.
Sibling Ribaldry
Developing my twisted sense of humor was a family affair.
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