This is what’s happening in my mind anyway.

This weekend I’ll be at WordCamp in San Francisco to talk about blogging.

I’m not afraid to admit that my 10-year-old daughter knows far more about coding than I do, and that I suspect anyone who can create a website using strings of seemingly random words and numbers must be involved in some sort of witchcraft.  If anyone asks me any difficult questions about programming or java or algorithms I will probably react in almost exactly this way:

You’ve been warned, San Francisco.

Can I borrow your towel? My car just hit a water buffalo.

So my friend Maile came to my house to pick me up for lunch and we were a block away when I saw something large and hairy in the back of the pick-up heading toward us, I thought “That is the biggest fucking dog I have ever seen” and then the truck got closer and I thought, “That can’t be a dog.  Is that Sasquatch?”  And then the pickup passed us and I involuntarily screamed: “WATER BUFFALO!”

And then Maile looked at me with mild confusion (probably because I’d just interrupted her story which had nothing to do with water buffalos) and I said, “DUDE. A FUCKING WATER BUFFALO DRIVE PAST US” and she was like, “Really?  I didn’t notice.” And I think that’s a pretty good sign that you’re not paying attention to the road, or that you live in Texas and you’ve learned block shit like that out.

Then Maile said “Do you want me to turn around and follow the water buffalo?” and I said “HAVE YOU EVEN MET ME?” and she nodded and said, “Right.  Follow the water buffalo” as she made a quick U-turn.  And after a minute I started to worry that maybe there wasn’t a water buffalo at all and that I was having a nervous breakdown, but then we saw it:

I think we need a different sign.

I think we need a different sign.

It was far away but we didn’t have a water buffalo in the back so we were able to catch up with the truck and Maile was like “Huh.  Why does this stuff happen to you?” and I thought it was probably that I was just really lucky, and then the truck slowed down and I was happy because I’d get a better picture of the water buffalo, but then we got a little too close and I was like “Shit. Slow down.  He’s gonna jump.”

What?

Sidenote: Those horns seem very unfortunate.  It looks like he’s trying to comb them down into a wig so he can go to the mall without being hassled for being a water buffalo.

And I would have felt really badly if the water buffalo had jumped because I’m not sure Maile is insured for water buffalo car-pounces, but then we realized he was taxidermied.

Then Maile asked “Wait.  Are they going to your house?  Is this your water buffalo?” and I hesitated for a second because I thought, ‘Had I ordered a water buffalo and just forgotten?’  But then I realized there was no way because I’m pretty sure water buffalo are just big cows and it seems a bit sad to hunt down and taxidermy a cow.

Then I thought, “Maybe this is a water buffalo surprise party and Maile was supposed to lure me out of the house so they could deliver the water buffalo” but that seemed unlikely because Victor is terrible at keeping surprises and also he doesn’t like taxidermy or water buffalos.  Turns out it’s my neighbor’s water buffalo.

I don’t have a good way to end this story so I’m just cutting it off there because “Turns out it’s my neighbors water buffalo” is a better ending sentence than “And then we ate some fried chicken and went home.”

PS. I showed the pictures to Victor and it turns out it’s not a water buffalo after all.  It’s a musk-ox.  I’m not sure the difference, but from the pictures I suspect musk-oxen are just water buffaloes with better shampoo.

UPDATED:  I’ve been asked if I’ve made friends with these neighbors and the truth is that I’ve only met a few and the last one uninvited me to a Republican fundraiser when I couldn’t stop laughing and I just handed her a copy of my book to explain why that would be a terrible idea.  I was also asked if the faux-stuffalo could be given a saddle and the answer is “YES”.  The other answer is that if that was my water-buffalo/musk-ox I would put motorized wheels on it and be riding  on it’s back around the neighborhood like mad.  It’s like the best golf cart/wheelchair ever.

Frankly, I'm not sure why no one is riding it at the moment and if they were going slower I probably would have hopped on.  It's like those coin-operated metal horses we used to ride on in front of grocery stores, except with no quarters necessary.  It would only be better if it was a *live* water-buffalo/musk-ox that had GPS and a stereo.

Frankly, I’m not sure why no one is riding it at the moment and if they were going slower I probably would have hopped on and pretended it was a parade float. It’s like those coin-operated metal horses we used to ride on in front of grocery stores, except with no quarters necessary. It would only be better if it was a *live* water-buffalo/musk-ox that had GPS and a stereo.

Is Victor wrong? (UPDATED FOR MORE AWESOMENESS.)

Last week I tweeted:

I’m forever googling ridiculous things to prove Victor wrong in our debates. I need a website that just says: “YOU’RE WRONG, VICTOR.”

It would save me so much time. And I could use that time to plant articles on the internet proving my incorrect ideas. Everyone wins.

Within minutes I got these from Doug, Jason, Nancy and Trevor:

YouAreWrongVictor.com

 IsVictorWrong.com 

@IsVictorWrong

And that is why I love the internet.

PS. Our current argument is whether I should be able to introduce myself to strangers at dinner parties as a “real-life were-woman” since technically a “were-wolf” means you’re now a wolf but you were a person, and so (using logic) “were-woman” would imply that I am a woman and also that I was a woman.  Victor disagreed and so I pulled up the Is-Victor-Wrong websites to use as scientific proof, but Victor said that there’s nothing scientifically valid about any of those websites.

I briefly considered that he might have a point, but then looked it up on the internet and turns out that Victor is wrong.

Who knew?

UPDATED: I never check my wikipedia page because it’s horribly outdated but several people told me I needed to look at it and now I know why:

(Click on it to embiggen.)

wiki This is almost as great as the time one of you changed my name to “Jennifer Juanita Spatula Jezebel Who-Let-The-Dogs-Out Lawson” and wikipedia didn’t notice it for a week.

Never change, you magnificent bastards.

PS. Apparently wikipedia pages are constantly being edited and the editors have to insert a note explaining each change.  The most recent change is noted as:

Add paragraph about Victor’s inherent wrongness.

Other notes over the years include:

Reverting vandalism

I love TheBloggess, but this won’t do.”

“Corrected grammar regarding Copernicus.”

New taxidermied animals as of 2/12

I was going to title this “Letting the cat out of the bag” but, frankly, I think we’re all better than that.

I just went to throw away the empty sack Victor left on the counter after he unpacked the groceries* but then I heard the bag rustling and looked at Victor and said, “Sir?  Have you left your bags unattended at any time?”

ferris hermit crab

And then Ferris Mewler gave me that panicked guilty look of “OMG, WTF?  KNOCK FIRST” and I was like, “Hang on.  What did you do?”  And that’s when I looked in and realized he’d ripped open a catnip mouse in there and was having a small, paranoid kitty freak-out.

It was like a tiny paper hotbox and now I think he needs rehab.

These are the things people never warn you about cat ownership.

*I changed the original way I’d written this because in real life it was a sack from a resale shop that Victor left on the counter after he was like, “No, no, no.  Do not leave that decapitated head on the kitchen counter.  You take that with you” and he pulled it out of the sack and I had to carry it around with me for an hour while I tried to find a good spot for her.  I changed the head (and also a vintage scythe) to “groceries” because I thought people would be too distracted to enjoy the cat picture, and then I’d have to explain that the vintage head is not made of real human (except for the hair) and that at $25 she was cheap at twice the price.

As an aside, Hailey and I are currently debating the best style for Hedy Lamarr (I’m open to other names if you have something more fitting) and I think this is an excellent place for a poll:

heddy

**************

And now, time for the weekly wrap-up:

sid2

 

Shit I made in my shop (Named “EIGHT POUNDS OF UNCUT COCAINE” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):

Shit that I’m vaguely involved with on the internets:

Shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome:

Shit you should buy or steal because it’s awesome:

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by David Robert, author of Wanderlush.  “When David, self-proclaimed anxiety-ridden introvert, convinces himself that he’s dying of ass cancer, he invites his delightfully unpredictable, Xanax-popping, chardonnay-swilling mother on a series of international “good-bye” vacations. By doing so, he unwittingly opens a Pandora’s box of hilarious and humiliating events that include digging his mom out of a rain gutter in Costa Rica and being dragged across the Arabian Desert by a psychotic camel named Forrest Hump. As the vacations unfold, David’s mother shares a secret that will change everything.”  I’m buying it.  You probably should too.

Well, they’ll never have to restock at least.

Picture I took outside my grocery store:

Inflation is a bitch.

Inflation is really getting out of hand.

On my way out I showed the cashier the picture and asked if the price was really “zero bundles of wood for $3.95″ and she told me that she wasn’t sure how much wood was but that they’d honor whatever the price was on the sign.  I asked how much it would cost if I bought a dozen bundles and she stared at her register keys for a minute and then said “Oh.  Wait.  I think I need a manager.”  And that would be good because if I’m reading it right the sign basically says, “We have wood and you can’t have any.  Just look at all this wood you can’t have.”  You’re not going to win any customers with that sort of braggadocious hoarding.

PS.  I was going to title this “Got wood?  No. Because it’s priceless, apparently” but then I thought I’d get a lot of viagra spam.

PPS.  Spellcheck is trying to tell me that “braggadocious” is not a word so I tried “bragalicious” and they don’t like that one either.  At least one of those is a real word, spellcheck.  Stop being an asshole.

NOOOPE.

If you haven’t checked it out today then click here to see my update on my Honorary Super-Doctorate.   Medicinal Margarita Madness and mandatory napping will commence as soon as the mail arrives.  Unless, possibly, ASU is just is waiting for me to get distracted and that’s not going to happen becauOHMYGOD HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CRAZY BULLSHIT?

Several people are aware of my severe giant squid phobia and lovingly (?) sent me this video of a giant squid attacking a Greenpeace submarine, and that’s unsettling enough, but WHY IS THERE ANOTHER SQUID BEHIND IT SPITTING OUT FIRE?  Is that a real thing?  Because I was scared enough without adding: “Oh, and also they can shoot a blinding inferno out of their butts like a tentacled, aquatic bonfire.”  It’s like half giant squid and half underwater maritime flame-thrower, and that’s not natural and is a sign that all giant squid are literally demons from the depths of hell.

It’s also possible that Greenpeace panicked and threw a flare at it and the squid grabbed the flare like, “YOU THINK WE’RE SCARED?  THIS IS A DAMN SPARKER, ASSHOLE.  I EAT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SPARKLER.  YOU’RE IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD NOW, SON.”

And that’s an even more terrifying scenario because giant squid are already horrifying and NOW THEY HAVE FIRE.  Good work, Greenpeace.  This is why we can’t have nice things.  Because you’ve armed the giant squid.  THEY ALREADY HAD TOO MANY ARMS.

It’s possible I’m overreacting, but I don’t think so.

UPDATED: As soon as ASU gets back to me I’ll be available for consultations and endorsements. And it will be awesome.

I’m not sure how it happened (I suspect voodoo) but I was somehow magnamed the Distinguished Alumna of 2014 by Angelo State University, my hometown college.  (ASU Magazine clipping at right to prove I’m not just drunk right now.)

It was very flattering but equally baffling, and I spent the weekend pretending to be “distinguished” and hoping that people wouldn’t realize that I am entirely overrated.

I was given my award at a banquet where everyone else being recognized had a legitimate reason for being honored and they were all insanely awesome, professional, and unintentionally intimidating, and I suspected that none of them had ever dug up a corpse or been attacked by their pet turkeys.

It was fancier than my wedding, and there was a live marching band to play us to our seats.

I can't play an instrument but I think I'd be a good band leader because I look good in capes.

Do all marching bands have capes, or is this one especially bad-ass?

I requested “Tusk“, but I don’t think they heard me, or possibly they’re just too young to know who Fleetwood Mac is.

My extended family all turned out, so I had to come up with a suitable speech that I could give in front of my daughter and my granny, so I wrote my speech on my phone while Victor drove us to San Angelo.  Here it is:

“I am so glad to be here tonight to accept my honorary doctorate degree. I never thought this would happen. Until I was driving here, that is, and thought, “I bet if I accept an honorary doctorate at this event they kind of have to give me one. That’s just polite.”

It doesn’t haven’t have to be crazy official. You don’t even have to spell “doctor” correctly, and I will vow to never perform surgery on people without first telling them that I’m an honorary Doctor of Journalism, but that I’m really excited about seeing if I can find their appendix.

This might seem ridiculous but I heard some other college gave Ellen Degeneres an honorary doctorate and my husband was like, “Well, is ASU up to those kinds of standards?” And I said, “Oh, ASU is way better than that crappy college” and I think you could prove me right tonight by making me whatever it is that’s one step above doctor.  I don’t know what that is.  Super-Doctor, maybe?   Major Doctor?  I don’t know.  I’ll leave it up to the board.  You guys are the experts.

I’d like to thank my parents and grandparents for bribing me to go to college with the promise that I’d get whatever money was left in my college fund after I graduated.

If I’d had college math at the time I probably would have realized that there wouldn’t be any money left and that I’d have to rely on grants and scholarships and work to carry me through, but in the end it was worth it. Because 17 years later I stand here before you:  A proud ASU graduate…

A Super-Doctor, at last.”

You can't tell, but that's me at the podium.  Trust me.  I'm a doctor.

You can’t tell, but that’s me at the podium. Trust me. I’m a doctor.

I was supposed to be in the Homecoming Parade but I said I’d only do it if I could ride on the float with Dominic (our live Ram mascot).  I was told that was impossible, probably because they assumed I’d steal him, and they were right because LOOK AT HIS FACE:

He looks like he'd be fun to drink with.

He’s like if Matthew McConaughey was a sheep.

I refused to ride in the parade unless I was given an equal or better sheep but they weren’t going for it, so I was like, “What if I bring my own sheep?” and they didn’t say no, so I just dressed my kid up as a ram and smuggled her into the bed of the pick-up.  Hailey had never been in a parade before either but you never would have known it and honestly she sort of out-Dominiced Dominic because she had the sweeping, majestic horns and furry coat, and she could throw plastic footballs to kids watching the parade because she has thumbs.  Additionally, she didn’t shit everywhere and that is a big plus as far as I’m concerned.

(Hailey is the one on the right.)

(Hailey’s the one on the right.)

Then I went to the ASU homecoming game because I was told I needed to walk onto the field at half-time to be “recognized” and that sounded a bit awkward, but then when I got there I realized I was supposed to follow the royal homecoming court onto the field.  And let me tell you, if you ever find yourself walking slowly, here-comes-the-bride-style, onto a football field toward a packed stadium of people (and one live sheep) while a marching band plays “You Can Tell Everybody This Is Your Song” and an honor guard makes a bridge of swords for you to walk under, just remember that it could be more awkward.  You could be doing all of that while wearing a sweatshirt and pajama jeans as you follow the thinnest and prettiest girls on campus, who are all wearing strapless ball gowns and glittery jewelry, and one of them just got a tiara and that’s when thought to myself, I suspect a team of unicorns will be by to whisk them away, while a pack of dirty dogs carries me off because that’s the only thing that could make this any more glaringly unbalanced.

It's like turning up for a wedding wearing overalls and then you remember that you're a bridesmaid."

It’s like turning up for a wedding, but you’re wearing overalls for some reason and then you remember that you’re a bridesmaid.

I’m reading all of this and it sounds like it was ridiculously ludicrous, and it was.

But it was also…really lovely.

I kept waiting for someone to realize that they’d made a terrible mistake, but they never did, and I remembered that one of the reasons I’d chosen ASU in the first place was the fact that people there are accepting of anyone…even the girl who never joined a sorority or club, or went to frat parties or football games, or ended up in a single photograph during her time there.  I wish I could have told the terrified college me who hid in libraries and tiptoed through halls that one day I’d go to my first homecoming.  And that that very same weekend I’d aggressively accept a doctorate degree, and ride in a parade with a small, beaming child dressed as a sheep, and walk in the footsteps of (small-town college) royalty while a marching band played Elton John as I limboed under pointy sabers.  Then again, I probably wouldn’t even have believed me.  Honestly, who the hell would?

PS.  Dear ASU Alumni Board/President/King/Vicar:  I went ahead and made this myself because I know you’re very busy.  I’m not sure if it’s totally accurate but it felt right.  Could you forward it to whoever needs to sign it?

my degree

Please rush if possible. My first patient is ready for surgery but his family is giving me static and I think the certificate will help reassure them.  Also, can I get a discount on bulk ether now?   It’s important.  These cat’s tonsils aren’t going to remove themselves.

PPS.  Seriously, thank you ASU, for being a wonderful college for even the dangerously social awkward.  I just saw the video you sent out this morning and it reminded me again that there’s a place for everyone.  Thanks for being my place:

100% of all Super-Doctors approve of this message.  (See?!  Think of the endorsement opportunities alone, ASU.)

Now please hurry up with that certificate so I can start stabbing people legally for a change.

UPDATED (10/15/14):

This morning when I was getting Hailey ready for school I vaguely remembered that I might have sent an email to the President of ASU at 1 o’clock in the morning when my insomnia makes me even more unstable than normal. And apparently I did:

“To: Dr. Brian May

Just a quick thank you for the fabulous and unexpected honor of being named the Distinguished Alumna of the year. This weekend was really amazing and I can’t tell you what it meant to be recognized in the town where I always thought I was invisible at best.

I wrote a quick post about it I thought you might like. Or might hate. Hard to tell.

Ps. I’m just kidding about being given a “super-doctor” degree. But only if by “just kidding” you mean “ridiculously serious and dedicated to making this happen.” The last time I was this focused I was made an official Czar of Texas (true story) and ended up using this power to increase awareness of the awesomeness of Texas and also to overthrow the Government. (But just for one night and the Government was very nice about it because they recognized my valuable political contributions, and also because they didn’t entirely take me seriously since {according to my proclamation} I report to the stray cat that lives at city hall.)

It’s very late so this email might not make much sense but I thought I should mail it off before Tulane reads my post and offers me a Super-Doctorate and things get all awkward.

Hugs,
Jenny”

My husband, Victor, read my email and suggested that thing had already gotten awkward, but my faith in the weird was redeemed moments letter when a response came back from Dr. May, which read simply:

“Super Doctorate is in the mail!!!!”

It’s possibly he’s humoring me, in a “the-check-is-in-the-mail” sort of way, but if I really am getting my Super Doctorate I’m stoked because as a Super-Doctor I would always outrank everyone in the room and so no one would question me when I mispronounced words, or let myself into the lemur house at the zoo. Victor argued that I would actually rank below “Subway Sandwich Artist” because “Super-Doctor” doesn’t really exist. And he might be right, but I countered that”Super-Doctor” doesn’t really exist YET, and that with my Super-Doctorate I will be setting a record for having both the highest and lowest ranking degree to ever come out of ASU, and that’s pretty darn impressive.

Also, if I become a Super-Doctor I can diagnosis everyone as needed. Like if you’re having a terrible day you’d be able to say, “Oh, this? My doctor prescribed this portable margarita machine to help me get through these horrific business meetings. It’s medicinal, I assure you. Please carry on.” Or “I need to take a nap because apparently I’m suffering from ‘An Overabundance of Bad-Assness’ and my doctor says naps are the only thing to keep it from growing to dangerous proportions that might overload my body and make everyone feel terribly inferior to me. Basically I’m taking this medically necessary nap for you, so please keep it down.”

EVERYONE WINS.

I’ll keep you posted.