This month's Bitter Ex-Florist episode is all about money, money, money. Is there a subject that causes more bitterness than that? Leading cause of divorce and murder...Why do even bother with it? Oh right, because it makes the freakin' world go 'round.

It's bizarre that florists make crap wages. They need to have talent, skill, and years of experience. But it just doesn't pay off. Maybe because it's a luxury industry in a tough economic time? Join me as I ponder the potential reasons.

I have been contemplating this strange life of mine, and its connection to flowers, plants, and the world of nature. It's true that I have a love-hate relationship with the floral industry. I mean, what do you expect from someone with a Youtube series called  "Dear Bitter Ex-Florist"? But the other big truth is that I love, love, love plants. All the astonishing manifestations of flora on this earth: plants, flowers, fruits, vegetables, trees, mosses, lichens, strange things growing under the sea... I love it all.

Remember that sense of wonder the first time you picked an apple from a tree? (OK, if you've never picked an apple from a tree, then you have truly missed out). The overwhelming sharp-sweet smell of the fruit, the musty-earthy smell of the bark and leaves - didn't it seem just a bit magical? Well plants, to me, are like that every day. Every time I meet a new plant or see one doing something particularly plucky, it just thrills me. 

I think half the reason I get so frustrated with the floral industry is that it tends to trivialize flowers, and provides no connection to their origin. I genuinely think the world would be a better place if people established a better connection with the natural cycles of plantlife. Plants have a lot to teach us. They are perfect models of growth, death, reproduction, adaptability, perseverance, and renewal.

So, I am officially coming out of the closet as a crazy, plant-loving fool. Join in me in celebrating our friends in the plant world! I'll be tweeting, blogging, and generally blathering about this more soon.

This month's "Bitter Ex-Florist" Episode is about as useless as a fake flower, sorry. And sorry to those of you who just love fake flowers. I think they're nasty. Not to mention totally inedible. But I had to toss up a sort of fake "Interim" episode since I've been way too busy getting The Book out there. "The Book" being Fresh Cut, the full true story of my life as a florist, in all its absurdity and horror. But hopefully you'll get a few chuckles out of this, and of course, buy my book and make me rich. Right?

So, fake flowers - why bother? I know there are times when you just have to use them. On stage in a play, possibly a film. But those things are already in the and of make-believe, so I think that's okay. But in real life? Yuck. Look, I'm not a big fan of cut flowers anyway, but if you're going to have them, at least appreciate their fragility: that peculiar "zombie half-life" as they sit in your vase of water and spend their last few days trying fruitlessly to be pollinated and propagate the species. 

Give them some love and attention as they sit dying on your kitchen table, and give reverence to the thoughts of mortality and the ephemeral nature of all life in the universe that they should inspire. If that seems to heavy for something you spent $5 n at the grocery store, too bad. Suck it up. Don't try to avoid the inevitable end by acquiring some cheap simulacrum that can't possibly hope to accurately impersonate the beauty of the real thing.

Oh yeah, and don't try to eat them. 

No, not Venereal Disease - it's Valentine's Day! That's right, it's a deliberately misleading and inflammatory title. If you're feeling inflamed, go get some medication in a discreet brown wrapper, settle back on your tookas, and enjoy this new episode of "Dear Bitter Ex-Florist."

Yes! I have done it, and it's a blast! I've taken "Eve's Folly" to Youtube. I'd like to introduce you to a new series I like to call "Ask a Bitter Ex-Florist." I will answer all those burning questions everyone has about the floral industry. It's right in the forefront of everyone's minds at all times, right? See, that was sarcasm just now. Because, like I said...bitter. But let's not waste print space talking about that. Check out June's episodes!

I haven't blogged in a while because I've got this crazy new idea taking off - my publisher said "Vlogs, they're the hip happening thing!" I said something akin to "Are you effing kidding me? I can't make a vlog." Well, famous last words. Here I am, 20 years and 30 lbs past my acting career, and plastering myself up on Youtube.

Small problem: I made the first version and the feedback was essentially "Could you try to do something that doesn't...you know...suck?"

Great. So not only do I have to make a vlog, but it has to be a good one? That's asking a lot. But ideas are percolating. Dare I revisit my days as a florist? If I did, how would I make it remotely interesting to to others? I saw the video below and got inspired. Let's see what I can come up with!

A couple days ago I had the most staggering experience: I received an email with a picture that someone had stolen from out of my mind. It was wonderful.

For those of you who don't know, my self-published book Fresh Cut just got picked up by awesome indie press Open Books.

What I received by email was the new book cover that had come in from my publisher’s super-talented graphic designer. I had given them only the most cursory descriptions of cover concepts I’d been tossing around, and voila – out comes this image that could have been a snapshot from my own subconscious.

How did they know? How did they do it? I can only come back to the original thought I had about this publisher: “These people get it. They get me. They get what I’ve written. It’s a freakin’ miracle.”

And it is! Check out the publisher’s home page for a book blurb on Fresh Cut and my author intro.

How do I feel about getting published? Words can’t describe. Not unless I was a professional writer of some sort. Oh crap, talked myself into a little corner there, didn’t I?

More on this subject later, but if I have a word of advice for aspiring writers, it’s this: Find where you fit. Check out the publisher’s other works. Get to know their other authors. Find a place that feels like home, and chances are it can be.

I should be writing about something important. But you know how it is when the garbage of daily life and media rattle around in your head, making concentration impossible? Well, here's the garbage. I am so effing sick of hearing about 50 Shades of a certain effing color. Well, I don't like it. I don't think it's sexy, I don't think it's clever, and I want it off my radar. Here are 25 alphabetic variations on the theme that I think would make way better stories.

B. 50 Shades of Bray: She was an innocent donkey. He was a stubborn mule. Their unproductive love would tear the barn apart.

C. 50 Shades of Cray: “Ain’t nothing more dirty n’ Crawdaddin’. Them Crays’ll get the best o’ you ‘less’n you show ‘em a firm hand. An’ I do mean a firm hand.” Ellie May only thought of Bayou fishing as a way to feed her family, until he showed her the other side…but will she take the bait?

OR

C. 50 Shades of Cray-Cray:  She was a hip young thing from the mean streets of…Missoula. She thought she’d heard everything until he made his offer to her. “You wanna do what with my WHAT?!” Oh no he didn’t!

D. 50 Shades of Dray: He was a proud Bay Roan, she a dappled Appaloosa. Once fate harnessed them together, pulling the cart was the last thing on their mind. (Dray=cart. It’s a horse thing…oh, forget it).

OR

D. 50 Shades of Dre: No one knew what really went on in the rap icon’s basement. It wasn’t just a house party, that’s for sure. When he said he wanted to lay down a beat, he meant so much more.

F. 50 Shades of Fray: What Vikings did behind closed doors would shock you. The thrill of the fray doesn’t end on the battlefield, and you will never look at a spiked mace the same way again.

G. 50 Shades of Gay: The Yuletide season will never be the same. (Hah! Didn’t see that coming, did you?)

H. 50 Shades of Hay: He was a proud Bay Roan, she a dappled Appaloosa. Tack. Harnesses. Saddles.

J. 50 Shades of Jay: When she went to be interviewed on the Tonight Show it was a dream come true. Would America’s salt-and-pepper funnyman be as alluring in person as he appeared on TV? You’ll never look at a chin the same way again.

K. 50 Shades of ‘Kay: Some people are into some stuff, but ‘sall good. Really, chillax, man. *Thumbs Up*

L. 50 Shades of Lays: The Crunchy Chip Empire has a seamy underbelly, as one young fan is about to find out. There are so many flavors and you can’t eat just one.

M. 50 Shades of May: The effervescent scent of lilac. The pitter-patter of gentle rain. The whistle of the riding crop - everyone knows the signs of spring. This playful romp through pastoral landscapes and delicate dungeons will both titillate and inspire.

N. 50 Shades of Nay: One young Puritan doesn’t know what she’s in for when the Head of the Council invites her to a Closed Session. She’d better get a safe word, because “Nay” doesn’t always mean “Nay.”

OR

N. 50 Shades of Neigh: He was a proud Bay Roan, she a dappled…. (I have this incredible feeling of déjà vu…)

P. 50 Shades of Prey: The thrill of the hunt doesn’t have to end back at the lodge, as one innocent young country girl is about to find out. Her guide will take her down paths she never could have imagined, but is she predator or prey? You’ll never look at taxidermy the same way again.

OR

P. 50 Shades of Pray: He was a stern Bishop… (It just writes itself).

Q. 50 Shades of Quay: Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay, one innocent beach bunny is about to find out what it means to be taken Under the Boardwalk.

R. 50 Shades of Ray: Mr. Charles was a music legend, and…something else? When one young piano student puts on a blindfold to experience his world, she gets so much more than she bargained for.

S. 50 Shades of Spay: His work with the clippers was so precise, so controlled – but did his obsession with neutering wild animals speak of something darker is his past? One young veterinary tech will find her life changed forever when she strays into his world.

T. 50 Shades of Tray: When the cafeteria closes the hair nets come off and things happen beyond your wildest dreams. You’ll never look at a spatula the same way again.

V. 50 Shades of oy-Vay: He was a stern Hasidic Rabbi, she was a tempting young shiksa determined to spin his dreidel…

W. 50 Shades of Wray: Only one woman could tame the giant ape, but would she be crushed by the force of his desires? (Fay Wray, star of the original King Kong…C’mon, it’s a classic!).

X. 50 Shades of X-Ray: Lead aprons. Restraints. The head of radiology has more inventive uses for the tools of his craft than anyone can guess, but one young tech swears she can see right through him…

Y. 50 Shades of Yay: They called him the King of The Rave, and he was about to show her the true meaning of Esctasy. You’ll never look at a glow stick the same way again.

Z. 50 Shades of…Zzz...zay... (Yeah, I got nothin’. Sorry).