In this always sensible and mildly profane etiquette manual for the modern age Celia Rivenbark addresses real-life quandaries ranging from how to deal with braggy playground moms to wondering if you can have sex in your aunt's bed on vacation to correctly grieving the dearly departed (hint: it doesn't include tattoos or truck decals). Rude Bitches Make Me Tired will provide answers to all your mannerly questions as Celia discusses the social conundrums of our day and age, including: Navigating the agonies of check splitting ("Who had the gorgonzola crumbles and should we really care?")The baffling aspects of airline travel (such as "Recline Monster" and other animals)The art of the visit (always leave them wanting more . . . much more)Gym and locker etiquette (hint: no one wants to talk to you while you're buck naked)Office manners ("Loud talkers, cake hawkers, and Britney Sue's unfortunate cyst")And much more! Good manners have never been so wickedly funny!

"An always sensible and mildly profane etiquette manual for real-life manners quandaries ranging from how to deal with braggy playground moms to wondering if you can have sex in your aunt's bed on vacation to correctly grieving the dearly departed (hint: it doesn't include tattoos or truck decals)"--

In this short e-original The Height of Rudeness, readers will get 5 essays - one never-before-published and 4 "sneak peeks" at the kind of manners advice Celia Rivenbark will be dishing up in her upcoming etiquette book RUDE BITCHES MAKE ME TIRED. Have you been "wait-listed" for your friend's wedding? Or, worse, have you been told, via engraved stationery, that you should "Please don't save the date"? This odious and ill-mannered trend must stop! How did it start? How should we cope with such an audacious display of asshattery? Leave it to Mama Celia to help in times like these. And a word of warning to brides-to-be? Quit showing off your engagement bling to your Facebook friends. They all expect to be invited and they're already shopping for Soda Streams.

From the author of the bestselling classics We're Just Like You, Only Prettier, and Bless Your Heart, Tramp, comes a collection of essays so funny, you'll shoot co'cola out of your nose. Topics include such gems as: • Why Miss North Carolina is too nice to hate • How Gwyneth Paltrow wants to improve your pathetic life • Strapped for cash? Try cat whispering • Sex every night for a year? How do you wrap that? • Get yer Wassail on: It's carolin' time • Airlines serving up one hot mess • Action figure Jesus • Why Clay Aiken ain't marrying your glandular daughter • And much more! Complete with a treasure trove of Celia's genuine southern recipes, You Can't Drink All Day if You Don't Start in the Morning is sure to appeal to anyone who lives south of something.

A compassionate, shame-free guide for your darkest days “A one-of-a-kind book . . . to read for yourself or give to a struggling friend or loved one without the fear that depression and suicidal thoughts will be minimized, medicalized or over-spiritualized.”—Kay Warren, cofounder of Saddleback Church What happens when loving Jesus doesn’t cure you of depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts? You might be crushed by shame over your mental illness, only to be told by well-meaning Christians to “choose joy” and “pray more.” So you beg God to take away the pain, but nothing eases the ache inside. As darkness lingers and color drains from your world, you’re left wondering if God has abandoned you. You just want a way out. But there’s hope. In I Love Jesus, But I Want to Die, Sarah J. Robinson offers a healthy, practical, and shame-free guide for Christians struggling with mental illness. With unflinching honesty, Sarah shares her story of battling depression and fighting to stay alive despite toxic theology that made her afraid to seek help outside the church. Pairing her own story with scriptural insights, mental health research, and simple practices, Sarah helps you reconnect with the God who is present in our deepest anguish and discover that you are worth everything it takes to get better. Beautifully written and full of hard-won wisdom, I Love Jesus, But I Want to Die offers a path toward a rich, hope-filled life in Christ, even when healing doesn’t look like what you expect.

From the wickedly hilarious pen of Southern humorist Celia Rivenbark comes a collection of essays that brings to mind Dave Barry (in high heels) or Jeff Foxworthy (in a prom dress). Step into the wacky world of "womanless wedding" fund-raisers, in which Bubbas wear boas. Meet two sisters who fight rural boredom by washing Budweiser cans and cutting them into pieces to make clothing. Learn why the word snow sends any right-thinking Southerner careening to the Food Lion for extra loaves of bread and little else. Humor columnist and slightly crazed belle-by-birth Celia Rivenbark tackles these and other lard-laden subjects in Bless Your Heart, Tramp, a hilarious look at Southern---and just plain human---foibles, up-close and personal. So pour yourself a glass of sweet tea and curl up on the pie-azza with Bless Your Heart, Tramp.

"On the short drive to the preschool, I dutifully unwrap a NutriGrain bar and toss it into the back seat to my four-year-old. Sometimes I'll even unwrap one for myself. Studies have shown that it's very important for familes to eat together. . . . " Why couldn't the Sopranos survive living down South? Simple. You can't shoot a guy full of holes after eating chicken and pastry, spoon bread, okra, and tomatoes. What does a Southern woman consider grounds for divorce? When Daddy takes the kids out in public dressed in pajama tops and Tweety Bird swim socks. Again. What is the Southern woman's opinion of a new "fat virus" theory? Bring it on! We've got a lot of skinny friends we need to sneeze on. Want to become honest-to-Jesus white trash? Spend two weeks' salary on hair extensions and pancake makeup for your three-year-old so she can win a five-dollar trophy in the Wee Tiny Miss pageant and the adoration of, well, nobody much. What does the Southern woman think of Paul McCartney's marriage to a model thirty years younger? We're not surprised. Statistically speaking, it's almost impossible for billionaires to discover that their soulmates are fifty-five and restocking the shampoo end caps at Kmart. In this wickedly funny follow-up to her bestselling Bless Your Heart, Tramp, Celia Rivenbark welcomes you, once again, to the south she loves, the land of "Mama and them's," "precious and dahlin," and mommies who mow. Ya'll come back now, you hear.