Quote

To say, Well, I write when I really get into it is a bunch of bull. Put the paper in the typewriter, stare at it a long time, get snowblindness if you have to, but write something.

Erma Bombeck

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Erma Bombeck
Age: 69 †
Born: 1927
Born: February 21
Died: 1996
Died: April 22
Column Author
Journalist
Writer
Bellbrook
Ohio
Erma Louise Bombeck
Well
Bull
Writing
Bulls
Long
Stare
Something
Staring
Really
Bunch
Time
Paper
Write
Typewriter
Wells
Typewriters

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When they told me I needed a mastectomy, I thought of the thousands of luncheons and dinners I had attended where they slapped a name tag on my left bosom. I always smiled and said, 'Now, what shall we name the other one?' That would no longer be a problem.
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Humor is a spontaneous, wonderful bit of an outburst that just comes. It's unbridled, its unplanned, it's full of suprises.
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To my way of thinking, the American family started to decline when parents began to communicate with their children.
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I've exercised with women so thin that buzzards followed them to their cars.
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You become about as exciting as your food blender. The kids come in, look you in the eye, and ask if anybody's home.
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Having a delivery covered by Medicare just isn't going to fly. It's too risky for a woman to put a baby down and not remember where she left it.
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Never lend your car to anyone to whom you have given birth.
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Everyone I talked to was a recording-the bank, the elevator, your office, the school, a wrong number. You used to be able to call a wrong number and get a person.
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For some of us, watching a miniseries that lasts longer than most marriages is not easy.
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I don't know when pepper mills in a restaurant got to be right behind frankincense and myrrh in prominence. It used to be in a little jar that sat next to the salt on the table and everyone passed it around, sneezed, and it was no big deal.
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No self-respecting mother would run out of intimidations on the eve of a major holiday.
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My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.
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The Rose Bowl is the only bowl I've ever seen that I didn't have to clean.
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I've always felt there are two things a woman should never do after the age of thirty-five: stand in natural light and have a baby.
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I read one psychologist's theory that said, Never strike a child in your anger. When could I strike him? When he is kissing me on my birthday? When he's recuperating from measles? Do I slap the Bible out of his hand on Sunday?
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Parenting is a negative thing. Keep your children from killing themselves, or anyone else, and hope for the best.
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What we're really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?
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The family. We are a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms. . . and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.
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House guests should be regarded as perishables: Leave them out too long and they go bad.
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Women are never what they seem to be. There is the woman you see and there is the woman who is hidden. Buy the gift for the woman who is hidden.
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