Let me be frank.

This week I spoke at frank in Florida and it was lovely.  Click here to see the glorious magnificence of my hotel room.  I highly recommend checking out all of the speeches but if you have 30 minutes and want to see mine you can check it out here.  You have to fast-forward to the end to see it.  It’s at the 1 hour 14 minute mark.

PS. I corrected Matt who credited @crappytaxidermy but it actually was @craptaxidermy so ignore me.  And I’m sure I fucked up other stuff too.  The usual.

poorprofessor higgins

PPS.  Unrelated, but this dress debate is killing me.  You’ve seen this, right?


I saw this CLEARLY WHITE AND GOLD dress this morning and everyone else I know is saying it’s clearly black and blue so I ask Victor and he said it was black and blue as well and that’s when I decided this was a big practical joke on me.  You win.  Lot of trouble to go through to make me think I’m losing my mind, y’all.

PPS.  WHAT THE FUCKETY FUCK.  I just looked at it again and now it’s black and blue and I can’t understand how I ever thought it was gold and white.  What sort of wizardry is this?

My grandparents would be very proud. Maybe.

You guys.  My book has now been translated into Czech, which is awesome because my dad’s parents are Czech and if they were still alive I think they would be very proud.  Or they’d change their names and pretend they were Bolivian.

I never know what the covers are going to look like so it’s always a surprise.  This one is a particular favorite because I’m pretty sure they dressed up a live mouse in a Shakespearean costume, and also because it literally has the word “fuck” scrawled right on the front cover.  That’s not something I did myself.  The cover is intentionally vandalized.  And that is awesome.


I think it translates to “Fuck.  This is true?”  Which?  Fair enough, I guess.

Apparently it’s getting good reviews, although I can’t read them because I don’t speak Czech.  But I did do a translation of one of them and this paragraph was pretty explanatory:

“When the snake looks like a rattlesnake and still has before him an armed to the teeth mother, it’s the same as if you were in front of the cop and pulled out a fake gun. In both cases you are expecting nothing but death. Texas is a state where they once banned sodomy and oral sex, but calmly here in the name of passion hunting is tolerated when guys smell like skunks.”

So, yeah.  NAILED IT.

PS. This could never have happened without your amazing support so as a small token of thanks I’m giving away an autographed copy of my book in whatever language you want.  Or an autographed copy of someone else’s book.  Or a banana.  You want me to sign a banana?  ‘Cause I can do that.  You need a cake?  Whatever you want really.  Just tell me what you want in the comments and I’ll randomly pick someone to send an autographed hamster or whatever it is you need.


UPDATED:  Okay, I’m sending signed weird things to several of you but the actual winner is Karen Martin, who made me cry a little with her comment:

One of my last favorite fabulous days with my mother was sitting on the beach raeding your book right when it came out. I was laughing so hard at everything and mom asked what was so funny? So I started reading aloud the part I was reading at that moment and mom grabbed the book out of my hands and proceeded to read the entire book! She loved it and once I got it back, so did I! Mom suffered from six strokes shortly thereafter and held on for almost a year after. I was blessed with the gift of caring for her during that time and would read your book to her wvwn though she couldn’t outwardly respond. I know she was laughing inside though. In her memory, I would love a book signed to her, Claudette, so I can always see a visual of the love we shared and all the laughter! You rock, Jenny, and you rocked my mom’s world, too!

Thank you so much for sharing that, Karen.  Check your email.


Soup Satchel!

I haven’t designed anything for my shop in awhile, but then last night it hit me.


Soup not included.

$11.95.  Soup not included.

It’s a satchel.  For your soup.  And I even made a special “ladies version” because for some reason that’s a thing:

soupsatchel text



And in answer to your questions:  Yes, I had been drinking when I made these.

It’s pretty obvious that soup won’t sit well in a canvas bag (unless maybe you line it with cling wrap first?) but personally my favorite part of soup is the chunks in it, so if you use this soup satchel then all of the juice will drain out and you’re left with a meatier stew.  It’s like a very slow, hipster strainer.

BONUS:  The leaky juices will marinate your floors so your house will smell like soup all the time.  Soup makes a house into a home.  It’s like a Crockpot scented Yankee Candle.  Also, this makes a perfect book bag.  But only if you clean out the soup first.

(Use the code LOVESINTAAIR for 15% off soup satchels and 50% off cards.)


I was talking to a girlfriend about how you could divide everyone in the world into people who do or do not have a crush on Alan Rickman and she agreed, saying, “Oh he’s hot. I would totes swipe right for him.”

And I was like, “Ew.  You should already be wiping right.  Do you not wipe unless you think you’re going to get lucky?  Because that’s how you get a urinary tract infection.”

Turns out that she said she’d “swipe right” which is apparently what you do on the Tinder dating app when you like someone’s picture and are interested in them.  That made more sense but I can’t help but think that maybe some of these people are single because of communication issues like this where you never have a second date because the person thinks you don’t wipe correctly.  Long story short, I think Tinder is trying to keep people single in order to keep up demand for their product.

PS. Please wipe correctly.

PPS.  Also, stop using the word “totes.”  Unless you’re using it ironically.  Or you’re talking about plural tote bags.

PPPS.  #TeamRickman

What are poopers?

I’ve heard about people on TV doing poppers but I didn’t know what they are, so I mentioned them to a friend and he was like, “Poppers.  Yeah.  They relax your butthole”.   I was pretty sure he was just fucking with me but he’s usually pretty reliable so I decided to check the internet.  Then Google was, “Poppers?  Sure I know what poppers are…”


I think Google is a little out of touch.

But all of the other search result were about the drug.  Turns out it’s a club drug that relaxes your butthole.  I’m not sure why you’d want to take a drug that makes your sphincter relax and then go wild at a disco because that sounds like a recipe for disaster, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.

PS. Hang on.  My friend explained it all to me.  I feel very old now.  Also, he pointed out that some people take it because it makes you euphoric when you’re dancing, but it only lasts for a minute.  I assumed they’d be pills because you “pop pills” but turns out it’s a bottle that you sniff.  It’s like invisible temporary cocaine.  Don’t do it.  Don’t do drugs.  Especially because they might not even be real.    And if they are real you might shit yourself, and then you’d have to deal with that mess when you sober up on the dance floor up 30 seconds later.  It’s like the most abrupt shame-filled hangover ever.

PPS. Was I the only person who didn’t know about this?

PPPS.  I just realized that I  spelled this wrong and now my blog title is “What are poopers?”  My google search results are going to be more horrific than usual this month.

This might be a weirdly inappropriate Valentine or I might be reading too much into this.

I found this vintage Valentine at a garage sale and I couldn’t stop looking at it because it seems weirdly and inappropriately sexual.   The woman running the garage sale disagreed with my assessment so I’m sharing it here so you can see if you’re as messed up as I am:



1.  Look at this girl’s feet.  She’s straddling a flaming bucket labeled “MY VALENTINE.”  Her vagina is literally on fire here.  That’s not healthy or appropriate.

2.  Why is she even burning valentines?  Was it an accident?  Does she like arson?  Is this how she lures firemen to her home?  So many questions.

3.  Sometimes a hose is not a hose.  Also, you’re not even aiming at the fire, sir.  It’s like you’ve never even had fire training.

4.  The hose seems to have a mind of its own and is spraying everywhere.  The entire place is a wet spot.  Plus, why does she look so excited that she’s about to get soaked?  Her only expression seems to be “AWESOME.  But not in my hair.”

5.  That hose isn’t even attached to anything.   It just winds back into the guy.  And the guy is like, “LOOK AT MY MAGNIFICENT HOSE” and the girl is all, “THAT HOSE IS SPECTACULAR.”   In fact, they’re both so “THIS HOSE IS EVERYTHING” that they are entirely distracted from the impending inferno and smell of burnt gingham.  I suspect this valentine was drawn by a man.

6.  Why is “fire” in quotes?  That’s not how quotes work.

7.  I realize it’s a cartoon, but that’s some mighty spermy looking water.

Conclusion:  This is the most subliminally sexual valentine I’ve ever seen in my life.  Or possibly it’s just me and I need to get my head out of the gutter.  Also, I just noticed that the boy’s hose is pointing to the words “PUT OUT”.  Yeah.  My work is done here.


I’m overwhelmed.  By the end of the week I’ll be fine but right now I’m dealing with massive deadlines, and Victor is out of the country, and Hailey has been really sick, and I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand.

I know this will pass.  I know my anxiety disorder is making me paralyzed and giving me a false idea of how bad things are.  I know that in a few days I’ll be back to normal.  But until then I have to just say that if you’re feeling overwhelmed and full of failure you are not alone.  Keep breathing.  Keep breathing.  Keep breathing.

I’ve been listening to angsty music that speaks to me, but honestly, today I need something to push me out of this, and pep-talk me into the sun and maybe you do to, so here you go:

PS.  If you hate being forcefully cheered up and instead you need to cry and feel like you’re not alone in being crazy then here are the angsty songs that have been my company this week:

Sending you love.  We’re in this together, y’all.

Dragged vs. Drug

This isn’t a real post.  It just won’t fit on twitter:

I’m doing final edits (fingers crossed) on my next book and I need your opinion. I know “dragged” is proper in this case, but “drug” is my natural dialect so “dragged” seems clunky to me.  But maybe “drug” makes everyone who isn’t me feel all stabby.  Is this a Southern thing, or is it just a me thing?  Or is it common enough that I can use it as long as I’m aware I’m using it incorrectly?

“He was later drug to his death by catfish.”


“He was later dragged to his death by catfish.”


PS.  Thanks!

In twitter, much like life, there is no rhyme or reason

I’ve never noticed it before, but apparently now you can look at your Twitter Activity Dashboard to see which of your tweets are actually being seen.  I could already guess which of mine would be the highest ranked this year because I can see which ones get retweeted or favorited, but I thought I’d check to see if I was right.

According to twitter analytics, in the last 28 days I’ve had a few million impressions (Impressions = # of times people saw tweets).  That seems like a lot but I’ve written a ton, adopted a new member of the family, captured a possible ghost phantom on camera, joined Instagram, and live-tweeted an unexpected visit to a ghost-town where we were escorted by a bossy emu and several llamas.

I expected that my highest ranked tweet would be the ones I wrote during a particularly terrible night, because they were retweeted and favorited the most:

“90% of the people I know right now are falling apart physically or mentally this week. Be kind. To others and yourself.”

“You’ll get through this. I promise.”

Surprisingly, the actual tweet which blew everything else out of the water (according the analytics) was apparently much more important….

enchilda on plane

Conclusion:  Twitter is just as baffling as Facebook now.  Also, enchiladas are more dangerous than expected.  And now I’m hungry for enchiladas.  Thanks, twitter.

PS.  Seriously, does anyone understand the actual algorithms for Facebook and twitter regarding which updates actually get seen?  Why do I never see some of my friends updates but see others constantly?  Why do I see things on my timeline days after they’ve been shared?  Is it witchcraft?  Because it feels like witchcraft.

The perfect valentine: my heart in my hands. Literally. Sort of.

I always forget about Valentine’s Day because it’s not really something we celebrate, but this year I’ve decided to get Victor something special:

budget jumbo heart

It’s a jumbo bargain heart.

Because my love for Victor is enlarged and dangerous.  And also thrifty.

But then he saw it in my cart and was like, “WHY DO YOU BUY THESE THINGS?” and I was like, “WHY DO YOU RUIN SURPRISES?” Then he accused me of buying it for myself, which is ridiculous because I already earmarked something for myself for Valentine’s Day (because I didn’t want Victor to feel bad that he got something and I didn’t). It’s an anatomical ear.

“THE BETTER TO HEAR YOU WITH,” I explained.  Because love means listening.  Or something.  He was not impressed.  But I still think it’s an awesome present and one most normal people would treasure.

Then he was like “Why is there a sack of human bones in your wish list?” and I was like “FOR YOU, ASSHOLE.”  Although technically the bones aren’t for him.  I just put them in my wish list so that I’d remember to show Victor that #1, there are weirder things to ask for for Valentine’s and #2, I want to be best friends with whoever left this review:

Yes.  Very helpful.

Yes. Very helpful.

Victor didn’t think it was funny and I wished I had my anatomical ear so I could hold it up and say “I CAN’T HEAR YOU WHEN YOU’RE BEING ILLOGICAL.”

I also made a note that maybe I should buy that real human rib so when we have a fight and I storm out I can be like “WE’RE DONE.  HERE’S YOUR RIB BACK”.  Admittedly, this would make more sense if we were more religious but it’s hard to stay reasonable when you’re considering buying human ribs on the internet.  (Although, the price is very reasonable.  $10 for a human rib?  How do you even stay in business that way?)

My guess is that you get the customer hooked on ribs and then they move up to heads.  Because yes, now you can buy a human head on Amazon from the same people.  It’s $2k and does not qualify for Amazon Prime.  No reviews, but there is one customer question, which reads simply “Is it female? Is it Asian?”  I can’t tell if this is a fetish thing or not but I’m guessing so.  This is the same company that sells a grab-bag of real human remains, which is odd, but not quite as unsettling as “Kay”, the woman who told the seller that she had enough human teeth and wanted to make sure her grab bag had larger bones in them.  I think we’ve all had that problem, right?

No.  No we haven’t.

And that’s why I wrote this post.  So that Victor could read it and realize that compared to Kay I am a mighty fine catch.  And compared to the guy selling human ribs on Amazon, Victor is an amazing specimen.  No pun intended.  And I’m going to tell him that.  Because I have a big heart.

Or I will when it arrives in the mail.

PS.  Victor doesn’t want my enlarged heart so instead I’m buying this pig that Amazon suggested I would like.


Amazon knows me better than Victor does.