Stalking a 20-Foot Tall Turkey

So then…we fly cross-country in search of a 20-Foot Tall Turkey, gigantic Shrek, and enormous SpongeBob.  That’s right — we’re in New York City for Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Broadway Shows, and hugs and giggles with relatives!

(Yes, Burglars, we DO have people house-sitting our California home while we’re away.  And yes, they ARE heavily-armed.  Mostly with turkey legs — but still — armed nonetheless.  So don’t even think about robbing our house.  We took all the cash and jewelry with us anyway.  All 12 bucks and the faux ruby ring.)

So this week, I’d like to spotlight a few funny true stories that you haven’t read yet — because I posted them before you started reading my blog!  (If you’ve been reading the blog since the very beginning, then either you love me so much you won’t mind I’m repeating — or you’re so dang old, you don’t remember that you read them already! — or both!)

You can read these one story per day — or gobble them all up at once, then cheerfully fall into a Tryptophan slumber.

He Was Naked When I Met Him

The Walls are SCREAMING at Me — and it’s all My Sister’s Fault

Thanksgiving — and the Horrified Hostess

Well, THAT’S a Little Personal!


– Darcy Perdu

Please pop your email address into the Purple Box below so you can receive funny NEW posts twice a week!

Oh, She Did NOT Just Say That

So then…Janice, the Cast Mom for the 8th Grade production of “Annie,” asks for volunteers to work the 4 show nights – snack bar, ticket takers, and congratulations telegrams.

But then her emails take a strange turn…

Cast Parents:
If you’d like to volunteer for ANNIE and haven’t responded yet, please let me know since some parents are working all 4 shows.

Could I help with telegrams for the Saturday night show?

All spots for telegrams are taken. I think we’re in good shape… unless you want to help with hair and make-up, which for some reason doesn’t seem like your thing?

Oh, no – she did NOT just say that!

“unless you want to help with hair and make-up, which for some reason doesn’t seem like your thing?”

What? Why doesn’t hair and make-up seem like my “thing?”

What exactly is she trying to say here?

Is she implying my hair’s a mess and my make-up is shoddy?

Or am I such a bumbling fool, she’s afraid I’ll put lipstick on their eyelids and mascara on their lips?

Or does she think I’m such a skank, I’ll tart up the little orphans to look like transvestite hookers?


That’s like saying, “We’d ask you to bring something to the potluck, but cooking doesn’t seem to be your thing.”

Or “We need field trip chaperones, but parenting doesn’t seem to be your thing.”

Imagine your date saying, “I’d invite you upstairs, but sex doesn’t seem to be your thing.”

So just as I’m about to whip myself into a self-righteous frenzy about her veiled insult…

I take a breath and realize she’s probably just like me – chasing kids, working, juggling a million demands from a million people. PLUS, she’s the Cast Mom, so she’s dealing with all the students and the Drama Mamas – and she’s probably staying up past midnight every night just like me to get everything done – so her remark was probably unintentional.

So, as usual, I decide to find the funny – and I start giggling.

I am laughing so hard right now — is there something about MY hair and make-up that suggests I wouldn’t be skilled at helping others with theirs?

I’m cracking up because that’s probably NOT what you meant — but the truth is — I am TERRIBLE at hair and make-up and you’re right — it is definitely not my thing!

I can help with selling snacks if you need it.

Or eating snacks. I’m good at that.

I did not intend any implications other than…
<<<LOL – can’t stop laughing!!>>>
It’s just that you are a fellow Pisces and it is SO NOT MY THING either!
All right then, I will put you down for eating snacks on Saturday night.

Of course I’m delighted to learn her comment wasn’t intended to cast aspersions on my grooming skills.

But now I’m perplexed as to how she knows I’m a Pisces?

And since when has that astrological sign been burdened with a reputation for inferior cosmetology and hairstyling?!

Makes me wonder what my daughter and her daughter discuss at rehearsal.

Is my daughter Chloe confiding to her classmates, “Ahh, my mom is HOPELESS at hair and make-up. (sigh) But you know, she’s a Pisces. What’re you gonna do? It’s in their nature.”

— Darcy Perdu

Artwork by Dixie Allan

Pop your email address right HERE for new SHORT & FUNNY true stories!

(Ever receive an odd comment or email that seemed like a veiled insult? Any funny stories about volunteering for the school play, field trip, class party, or dance? Is hair and make-up YOUR thing? Or are you a Pisces too?)

Oh, She Did NOT Just Say That!  #funny  #school #drama #volunteer #pta #pisces #cosmetics #hairstyle

What the Hell Just HIT Me?

What the Hell Just Hit Me
So then…the music soars to a crescendo as the actors scurry about the Broadway stage — which my boyfriend and I can see perfectly from our fantastic theatre seats.

Just as we’re experiencing the spectacular re-enactment of the Fall of Saigon, something comes hurtling off the stage and hits me square in the chest.

I am stunned.

I feel around on the dark theatre floor but cannot locate the offending object. I look to my left, my right. No one looks aghast. They stare straight ahead.

Did I imagine that assault? I could swear something came right off that stage and hit me and…oh, wow, look at that building go up in flames! and a helicopter is taking off! and now the villagers are running amok!…this IS spectacular…

As we walk back to the hotel, we talk about how amazing the show is.

After several over-priced cocktails in the lobby bar, we go up to our hotel room and my boyfriend sexily swaggers over to me – although, frankly, it’s more like a stagger than a swagger –

and he whispers, “Comeer, you Hatamala,” which I first assumed was some new Asian nickname, inspired by our recent viewing of the revival of the “Miss Saigon” Musical, but soon realize was meant to be: “Come here, you Hot Tamale,” which is not only not in keeping with tonight’s Asian theme, but somewhat of a misnomer since I don’t personally possess any Latin blood.

My tipsy and yet still appealing boyfriend, continues his sweet-talking/slurring, wraps an arm around me, kisses me, then quite expertly unbuttons my blouse with his free hand. It appears the liquor has affected his diction more than his dexterity. It is going to be a good night.

Then he shrieks. And I don’t mean a manly shriek, like the kind that should come from a strong, strapping man of 6 feet like my boyfriend. I mean a high-pitched shrill of a shriek, reminiscent of a high society grande dame experiencing her first bikini wax.

“What?! What?!” I shout.

He points to my chest with considerable fear, and no small amount of revulsion. And there, on my chest, is a HUGE blue bruise with purple tentacles shooting out in all directions!

So now I shriek. I run to the mirror to get a better look at the mass and hue of this enormous skin condition, when it hits me – yes, hits me – just like I was hit not two hours ago in the theatre! I knew it! I knew something had hit me!

I turn to my boyfriend, who is anxiously seeking solace in the minibar’s mini bottles, and I exclaim: “Somesing in zee shoo hit my chezz, my chezz!” (Given my Irish heritage, I can only assume my current French accent is a temporary side effect of the over-priced lobby cocktails.) And yet, my boyfriend seems to understand exactly what I am saying, as slurring is the universal language of all inebriated.

So he calls the hotel operator and asks to be connected to the “Miss Saigon” theatre, which takes some time to communicate since the operator’s obviously not had the benefit of the afore-mentioned lobby cocktails, rendering her unfamiliar with our language.

Finally, we get through to the theatre stage manager and I say, in my most sober and nonchalant voice, “Didja happen to lose any props in tonight’s shoo?”


“Why do you ask?” he says.

Aha! I knew it! That’s a clear admission of guilt!

“Calm down!” he says. (It’s at this point I realize I have spoken that accusation out loud.)

“My chezz has a HUGE bruise onnit! I wuzz hit by somesing from your stage!” I proclaim.

“Oh. Well, during the Saigon battle scene, we tie sandbags on the propellers of the helicopter to keep the blades from shooting out and…well, two of the sandbags are missing.”


“Yes, apparently, one flew off and hit a lady in the leg and I guess the other one hit you in the chezz…chest. We’ll gladly pay for the doctor visit. We’re really sorr—“

“What did the other lady say?”

“She said she’s fine, but the incident distracted her from enjoying the show. So we’re giving her free tickets to see it again.”


I sober instantly.

I spout forth: “Four tickets. Backstage pass. Autographed program. And double-knot the sandbags this time!”

— Darcy Perdu

Please pop your email address into the Purple Box below so you can receive funny NEW posts twice a week!

(Yep, true story. Thank God only the sandbags came shooting off stage and not the propeller blades!! However, we had to get back home to LA, so I gave the free tix to my boyfriend’s NY relatives. So how about YOU? Ever had something odd happen – then a theatre, restaurant, hotel, company, etc. had to make it up to you? Any funny stories about shows, concerts, plays? Do tell in the Comments Section!)
What the Hell Just Hit Me

Meet Me at the DMV — Naked

Meet Me at the DMV -- Naked
So then…my friend Gina invites me to join her and our mutual pal Lindsey for lunch.

It’s important to know that Gina’s email is sent to us on February 18, which is often known as 2/18. 

Here are the emails that prove our senility:

Hi Girls,
It’s time for a Lunch/”Therapy” date with the 3 of us. 9/24 works for Lindsey and me — so Darcy, we’re hoping that it’s a go for you too. Otherwise we’ll explore a later date. So how’s 9/24 working for ya?
XO, Gina

Regarding 9/24 lunch — You mean 3/24 !!! I can’t wait until September!
— Lindsey

You see how much I need that “therapy” session! Just wait till you chickens hit my age…!

First of all, I’m already 93.
Second of all, do you really mean 3/24? That’s still 6 weeks away!

NO, NO what the ~~~~ is wrong with us??? It’s 2/24!! Right, Lindsey? SEE — we really need this!

OMG – are we all senile??!! Yes — 2/24!!!!
— Lindsey

OK, I’ll meet you for lunch on 2/24. However, based on both of you being senile, I imagine that one of you will show up at the DMV instead of the restaurant — and one of you will show up at the restaurant naked. Good luck to all of us.

OMG I’m laughing so hard! What has become of us?

What has become of us indeed!

— Darcy Perdu

Please pop your email address into the Purple Box below so you can receive funny NEW posts twice a week!

(Are you and your girlfriends losing your minds? Or is it just us? Any missed appointments or scheduling mistakes? What have you forgotten lately? Or did you forget? Share in the Comments below!)

Meet Me at the DMV -- Naked P

Super Bad? More like SUPER MAD!

Super Bad More Like SUPER MAD
So then…I shout, “Fine!”

And then he shouts, “FINE!” — slams the door, gets in his car, and drives to work.

I seethe.

We’re in the middle of a big argument and he bails just to go to work? Where are his priorities?

He works at night, so it’s already dark out. I head to the kitchen.

I’m so mad at him, I can barely eat dinner. But it’s pasta and chocolate chip cookies, so I suffer through. In fact, I’m such a martyr, I suffer through several helpings.

I replay the argument in my head.

I was being logical, reasonable, rational – raising excellent points and substantiating them with clear, concise examples.

He was being a jerkfacemonkeybutt.

Normally we get along fine – we’ve been living together awhile now – we’re in our 30’s with good jobs, a decent house, and a pretty chill lifestyle – we’re laidback and laugh a lot.

But when he’s being a jerkfacemonkeybutt, I find him to be insufferable and quickly catalog every tiny thing about him that drives me insane.

As I walk through the house putting away the laundry, I notice things like:

This is the stupidest shirt ever. Why does he wear this shirt?
Seriously, can he not put his dishes IN the dishwasher instead of the sink?
I suppose the trash can was just too far away for this soda can.
Why is his golf club IN the house? That’s stupid. He’s stupid.
Ugh, look at his shoes. His shoes are annoying me.

I watch TV. I note how all the boyfriends on TV are so much better, nicer, funnier, smarter, and sweeter than my boyfriend.

I do a little paperwork, polish off the last cookies, and head down the hallway to the bedroom.

Just then I hear a loud THUMP CRASH!

My heart stops. I freeze.

It’s close to midnight. He’s not due back til 2:00 am. I’m not expecting any visitors.

What the hell was that?

Is someone out there?

I had whirled around when I heard the noise, so my legs and arms are all akimbo in the hallway – but I’m literally frozen solid like a fossilized dinosaur mid-run when the glacial apocalypse hits.

Fight or flight? Fight or flight? My heart is hammering.

I muster up my courage and dart toward the sound. The front door is WIDE OPEN.


I rush to slam it shut and lock it.

I lean against it, breathing hard, arms spread out against the door to keep the bad guys out.

Oh shit, what if they are already inside and I just locked them in here with me?


I run to the kitchen for a huge knife and the portable phone.

Do I search the house?
They might be hiding somewhere inside.
They’ll jump out and murder me.
Do I run to my car in the driveway?
There might be more of them outside.
They’ll jump out and murder me.
I’m surrounded!

I pause in the kitchen holding the knife in front of me — leaning forward, concentrating fiercely to try to hear where they are.

Outside, I hear rustling – are they trying to get in the house – or is the wind whipping the tree branches and leaves around?  Are coyotes out there?

Inside I hear creaking – are they walking around – or is this old house settling?

More rustling — more snapping, crackling – are those footsteps? Is someone banging on the window?

I’m seriously in a panic. I have no choice. I have to call 911.

“Hi um I’m really scared I think someone’s trying to get in my house or maybe they’re already IN my house and I’m all alone and it’s pitch black out there and I keep hearing them trying to get in the house! I don’t know any of my neighbors. I’m afraid to leave and afraid to stay. Can you please send someone just to check to make sure no one is here? I’m really scared. I’m all alone! Did I say that? Did I say I’m alone? I’m really freaked out!!”

The dispatcher takes my address, asks a few questions, and says she’ll send a squad car over to make sure nobody’s trying to break in.

I position myself halfway between the front door and the back door, so I can make a quick escape, depending on the direction I’m attacked. I brandish the butcher knife in one hand and the phone in the other, waiting for the police to arrive. I dare not move in any direction. I am frozen.

I wait and wait and wait.

I could be dead by now. Seriously dead. What the hell, police officers? It doesn’t take much time to murder someone – I could be long dead by the time you get here.

Out of desperation — I call jerkfacemonkeybutt. I wail into the phone about the people trying to murder me – and infuse my tale with an accusatory tone since clearly it’s HIS fault that I’m in this predicament. Not sure how exactly, but damn sure, nonetheless.

He tries to calm me down and says he’ll come right home from work.

About 20 minutes later, he comes in the front door.

I’m still standing in the same spot, eyes WIDE and WILD, knife hand thrust forward, phone hand near my ear.

He advances to give me a hug. My face recoils, my knife hand waves him off.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s already forgotten all about our earlier argument. He’s like that.

He always says men are like microwaves – they get mad – then zap, it’s over. Women are like crockpots, simmering and stewing that anger He’s right – I’ve been simmering and stewing and sweating here in the same spot, my Safety Spot, literally terrified to go anywhere or do anything until the police come to verify no one’s breaking into my house!!

I don’t even deign to answer the question about what’s wrong.

He quickly searches the house and reports back that no one else is here.
He says it doesn’t look like anyone’s tampered with the doors or windows.

“The door was WIDE OPEN! WIDE.OPEN! Someone OPENED the door! And they’re out there still! They’ve been making noises and banging all night! ALL NIGHT! I want the COPS to check this whole place out!!! YOU don’t know what to look for! The COPS will find them!!”

Full-out high-pitched hysteria.

He knows well enough to quietly sit down and wait it out with me.

After a few tense moments, he asks, “When did you call the police?”

“Almost 45 minutes ago! And they’re still not here! I could be dead by now! DEAD!!”

“Huh. That’s a long time.” He grins. “You shoulda called Dominos Pizza. They’d be here in 30 minutes or less.”


I glare at him with such pure loathing, that stupid grin slides right off his stupid face.

The doorbell rings.

The cops are here!


They’ll search the premises – and check the perimeter – and find evidence that vicious criminals were trying to break into my house – and secure the area so no one can ever harm us!!

I rush from my Safety Spot to open the door. “You’re finally here!” I exclaim.

Two weary cops stand there. One says, “Yeah, sorry it took us so long to get here. The winds are so strong in the Valley tonight, we’ve been answering calls all over the place about doors blowing open. So what’s your situation here?”


I can FEEL my boyfriend behind me, laughing his ass off INTERNALLY. He’s not uttering a sound, but his shoulders are shaking that telltale sign of inner mirth.

And if these cops were not standing right in front of me, I swear I would stab him immediately and repeatedly. And I would not feel one tiny bit of remorse.

I’d just fling the bloody knife to the floor with a flourish – like a rock star hurls his microphone – then shout “Peace out” – and drive to the store for more cookies.

— Darcy Perdu

Laugh at all my new posts by subscribing HERE!

(Have you ever scared yourself absolutely silly? Any funny or embarrassing cop stories to share? And can YOU catalog all the annoying things about your significant other right after you have an argument? Do share in the Comments section!)

Winners of the First Year Blog Birthday Gift Card Giveaway!

It's My Birthday Gift Cards
So then…I announce the winners of the Blog Birthday Giveaway of $400 in Gift Cards!

Chloe and Tucker are excited to pick the random winners, but truth be told, I’m hemmin’ and hawin’ and hesitatin’ – because honestly, I want EVERYONE to win!

I’m literally OVERWHELMED with the over 200 enthusiastic, flattering compliments about my writing! I love reading how much you guys enjoy the blog, laugh at the stories, read the archives, and look forward to new funny stories!

It’s such cool Positive Feedback to receive about my writing!

I want to embroider each comment onto a separate square of brightly-colored fabric – and sew them together into a huge quilt so whenever I’m feeling low, I can cocoon myself inside a warm and cozy Comforter of Affirmation!

Or maybe I’ll sew the fabric squares into a fabulous Cape of Compliments and wear it all about town – at work, the mall, running errands –

and whenever someone gives me the stink eye about my frazzled appearance, dubious parenting ability, questionable food choices, or lame small talk – I’ll just swish my Cape in their direction –

and TELEPATHICALLY retort, “Oh yeah? See that green square? She likes me. Yeah, she does. Check out that purple square over there – he thinks I’m fabulous! The blue plaid square? She says I’m hilarious! So there, stink-eye-judgy-person. Don’t even get me started! I got a whole CAPE O’ COMPLIMENTS here!”

So thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys make my heart swell with happiness at all the lovely things you wrote.

And I wish I COULD give everyone a prize, but splitting the Gift Cards between all of you would mean you’d each only get about $1.87…!

So without further ado, I announce the WINNERS of the 1st Year Blog Birthday Giveaway!

$20 Target Gift Card Amanda B (email starts with mandee_b…)
$20 Target Gift Card Dee (email starts with darever…)
$20 Target Gift Card Kate (email starts with anothercleansl…)
$20 Target Gift Card Lindsay (email starts with harugir…)
$20 Target Gift Card Lynn N (email starts with lmnelthr…)
$25 Amazon Gift Card AinOakPark (email starts with allisonke…)
$25 Amazon Gift Card Ashley (email starts with ashley@thedo…)
$25 Amazon Gift Card Marie B (email starts with justmari…)
$25 Amazon Gift Card Susan M (email starts with susanrm…)
$50 Target Gift Card Angibird (email starts with angiwebbe…)
$50 Target Gift Card Ann (email starts with ann8903…)
$100 American Express Gift Card Sarah L (email starts with sarahmari…)

CONGRATULATIONS! I’m emailing you to ask for your addresses so I can mail the gift cards!

I’d also like to THANK everyone who agreed to spread the word about So Then Stories to your friends & relatives & swingers-sex-partners! Many of you said you’d cut and paste my draft messages into emails to your pals so they could sample some of my most popular posts! That’s awesome!

AND two of you already purchased ADS! Woot! Woot!
Click to Advertise

Please check out two very funny guys, Ben Swilley of Geezer Grit and Mike Regione of Joe Floggers. You’ll get some great laughs from their blog posts and Ben’s book:

Ad Passion Joe Floggers Ad Passion Ben Swilley

And many of you subscribed by email to So Then Stories so you’ll always receive funny new stories as soon as they’re posted. That warms the cockles of my heart!  I hope more of you subscribe by email too!
Subscribe by Email 80

Soooo…to add a SPECIAL THANK YOU to everyone for writing such awesome comments, asking your friends & relatives to check out my funny stories, considering ad purchases, subscribing by email, and/or reading my blog…

I’m giving away ANOTHER $100! Here is the bonus round of another 10 people who will each receive $10 Gift Cards to Target!

$10 Target Gift Card Amy R (email starts with Reindlg…)
$10 Target Gift Card Daniel P (email starts with daniel.proven…)
$10 Target Gift Card Dianne W (email starts with dianneswillia…)
$10 Target Gift Card Heather L (email starts with hcmorty…)
$10 Target Gift Card Keely (email starts with sweetcakesand…)
$10 Target Gift Card Kelly (email starts with delly7…)
$10 Target Gift Card Marie (email starts with marie.beck…)
$10 Target Gift Card Mary W (email starts with mary.willia…)
$10 Target Gift Card Millie N (email starts with millie@millieno…)
$10 Target Gift Card Pippen (email starts with peregrine…)

CONGRATULATIONS! I’m emailing you to ask for your addresses so I can mail the gift cards!

If you didn’t win this time around, I hope you’ll still keep reading and laughing at the stories — and maybe you’ll win in a prize one of my future Giveaways!

Meanwhile — THANK YOU, everyone, for the best 1st Blog Birthday ever!

Now I’m off to sew my Cape O’ Compliments!

— Darcy Perdu

Please pop your email address into the Purple Box below so you can receive funny NEW posts twice a week!

It’s My Blog Birthday and I’m Giving Away $400 in Gift Cards!

It's My Birthday Mary 10.23.13
So then…I find out that on your blog’s 1st birthday, custom dictates you’re supposed to GIVE gifts – instead of RECEIVE gifts!


That’s crazy! But — always one to succumb to peer pressure (yes, I’m talkin’ to you, fanny packs, scrunchies, scarves for no reason, Zumba, and tequila shots!)

I decide that I, too, will give away gifts to mark my first year anniversary of the So Then Stories blog! So I’m giving away 12 gifts, totaling $400 in GIFT CARDS! Woot! Woot!

It's My Birthday Gift Cards
BUT FIRST…let’s briefly recap the highlights of the first year:

I LOVE writing quick funny true stories about embarrassing kids, vexing spouses, wacky co-workers, and the ever-perplexing public – and ESPECIALLY love revealing my own hilarious humiliations and bodacious blunders.

I LIVE for your comments! I’m especially giddy when you’ve written things like “I’m crying with laughter” – “hilarious!” – “you make me laugh daily” – “I love your blog!” – “I laughed so hard, I just spit YooHoo all over my keyboard!”

I LEARN from the most amazing writers online and in Facebook blogger groups. It’s the most supportive, helpful, generous, laugh-out-loud funny community ever! We may not be friends IRL, but we’re definitely friends in the Blogosphere – I would totally hold your hair back while you puke up those tequila shots.

I LAUGH! Your Comments totally crack me up! At the end of each story I post, I ask readers to share similar funny experiences – and you have done so in SPECTACULAR fashion! One day, I hope to compile my most popular stories in a book — and I hope you’ll let me share your funniest comments too. They’re hilarious!

I LEAP onto computer screens and phones with my hopefully entertaining stories – and within 1 year, I’m proud to say my little blog now averages over 34,000 page views per month, over 11,000 unique monthly visitors, 1190 Twitter followers, and 1178 Facebook followers. I even won a HUMOR AWARD (VOTY 2013) this summer in Chicago at the BlogHer conference attended by 5,000 bloggers! I’ve posted 110 true stories on the blog which has had 65,691 unique visitors and 239,026 page views so far. Lots of blogs have higher readership than mine, of course — but I’m proud of my stats in the first year and hope to grow even more!

I LAUNCH a new program today in case anyone would like to advertise on my site! (I hear you should “monetize” your blog – and I keep pressing the “$” key on my computer but NO MONEY IS SHOOTING OUT! WHERE IS THE MONEY?) So someone suggested I offer ad space to companies, other bloggers, Etsy shops, and of course, German Dungeon Porn producers. So click on the link below for a quick and easy way to upload your ad so you can reach my super cool readers (and I can make a few buckaroos!)
Click to Advertise


Drum roll, please! To celebrate my One Year Blog Birthday,
I’m giving away $400!!!

It's My Birthday Gift Cards

One $100 American Express Gift Card
Two $50 Target Gift Cards
Four $25 Amazon Gift Cards
Five $20 Target Gift Cards

That’s 12 Gifts for the First 12 Months of My Blog!

I hope you’re one of the 12 Lucky Winners!

Simply leave a comment on this post before
Friday, November 8, at 2:00 pm EST.

Then my kids Tucker and Chloe will blindly pick 12 random numbers – and those commenters will receive an email asking for your address so we can mail your gift card!

It’s NOT a requirement to subscribe via EMAIL to my So Then Stories website to enter the drawing – but it would make me feel all tingly inside if you did! Please consider it!

Subscribe by Email 80


For my birthday, I want to DOUBLE my readership!
And YOU can make that happen!

You already know and love So Then Stories.
So please tell 3 pals about it!

Why 3 pals?
Because some of YOU won’t follow through –
since you’re too busy renovating your meth labs or hoarding animals.

And some of your FRIENDS won’t follow through –
since they’re too busy writing prison pen pals and entering drag queen beauty pageants.

If MOST of you refer So Then Stories to 3 pals –
and MOST of those pals start reading my blog –
I will DOUBLE my readership!



Dear Fun-Loving Friends:
You’ll die laughing at the inappropriately hilarious true stories of Darcy Perdu at

Are these stories “Safe For Work?” Hell yeah! (If you work at a STRIP CLUB!)

For a gut-busting sampling, check out:

Darcy’s snarky commentary on Body Painting Gone Wrong that’s already been shared 571 times on Facebook!

YIKES! Just Found a Weed in my LADY GARDEN!
Darcy gets VERY creative when she finds a grey “weed” in her pelvicular region – which then inspires the HooHa Awards – so claim your prize!

My Secret Accomplishment (Photograph-Forbidden)
The subject matter of this post is highly unusual – but absolutely HYSTERICAL!

After reading these 3, you’ll be hooked, so be sure to subscribe to her site for more funny true stories!
Your friend, _______________


Dear Fellow Moms:
Between the chaos, calamity, and comedy of parenting, if you’d enjoy a brief break for some funny true stories straight from the battlefield – check out Darcy Perdu’s website!

You’ll laugh at these brief glimpses at embarrassing kids, vexing spouses, and her own bodacious blunders. A few quick examples include:

Telling His Teacher a Big Fat Juicy LIE!
Darcy’s mortified & funny response to the teacher who reports a flat out lie from Darcy’s son:

Who’s Calling the Shots Here?
Darcy’s priceless reaction when a couple tries to claim their toddler made some very important decisions ON HIS OWN.

One Thing Disneyland INSISTS You Do NOT Bring to Their Park
Darcy finds out the ONE HILARIOUS thing that Disneyland insists you do NOT bring to their park!

So when your kids are napping – or at school – or terrorizing the house while you’re taking a well-deserved “time-out” hiding in the pantry with the Oreos, check out the latest true tales at – and share some of your own!
Your friend, __________________


Dear Short-Attention Span Friends:
You’re always on the go, so you’ll appreciate these super short funny stories from Darcy Perdu.

At less than 500 words each, they still pack plenty of laughs:

No, Really, Do NOT Put That in Your Mouth
Darcy’s shocked by a bizarre move made by the exterminator:

Turns Out — I AM a Random Roving Psychic!
Darcy discovers she IS psychic, much to the chagrin of unsuspecting strangers:

That’s Not a Threat; That’s a Vow
Fueled by perverse rivalry, Darcy surprises the whole wedding congregation:

Quick. Funny. You’ll love ‘em!
Your friend, _________________



— Darcy Perdu

It's My Birthday P