So I’ve been a bit MIA lately because the power company decided I didn’t need electricity anymore so I spent the day eating all the popsicles and dressing up the dog.
This time, Dorothy Barker decided to go a little more pop-culture than before. Can you tell who she is?
Victor’s guess was “plotting her revenge” and yes, maybe, but I’m looking for something more specific. Hang on. Lemme add a wig:
She actually didn’t hate this one, but probably only because I was giving her dog bacon (made for dogs, not out of dogs) and it was a fair bribe. But then I ran out of bacon and she did this:
At first I thought she was reenacting that scene where Leia bends over to have R2D2 take that selfie of her, but Victor was like, “What is happening here? You gave our dog scoliosis.” But turns out that she was just wilting because she realized I was out of bacon, and I completely get that because I also ran out of popsicles and I was totally feeling the same way.
I have to go now because I hear drilling and I think we’re going to lose power again, and also because I found more popsicles.
PS. Hunter S. Thomcat requires no bacon. He’s just too lazy to get off my desk. And he is working the shit out of this look. Take notes, Dottie.
PPS. Ignore the haters. You’re beautiful.
Today we are continuing with part 2 of “WHAT SHOULD DOROTHY BARKER WEAR FOR HALLOWEEN” because I am easily distracted and like to put clothes on dogs. Last week she was Hank the Cow Dog. This week she’s a ballerina. Both weeks she’s looked at me like I’ve lost my mind and possibly I have but OMG Y’ALL.
I was never thin enough to be a ballerina, but this dog is nailing it.
She’s so happy. Or yawny. Or angry. Mostly the last two.
“I’m shitting in your sandals tonight, lady.” ~ Dorothy Barker
She didn’t love wearing the tutu, but she definitely preferred it to the cowboy hat. Next week? We visit the dark side.
Like if Olan Mills and Glamor Shots had a baby and the baby was a dog dressed as a ballerina.
And now…time for the weekly wrap-up!
Shit I made in my shop (Named “EIGHT POUNDS OF UNCUT COCAINE” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):
This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Potsafe. But that’s who sponsored last week, you might be saying to yourself. And you are right. But it’s so cool you probably want another set. In case you missed it, it’s a safety accessory that protects kids (and everyone else) from accidental burns. It’s actually really smart and you can check it out right here. Mounts in minutes and protects kids (And clumsy people like me) from pulling a hot saucepan down from the stove. Check out the video for a demo.
Every so often I go look at the search terms that brought people to my blog and then I think STOP DOING THAT. But then I decide that it would make a funny post and share some of them even though writing these phrases here will inevitably just lead to more terribly baffling searches leading here.
The most baffling terms that led people to my blog this month:
- I bought a sick monkey on ebay (I can’t tell if you’re complaining or bragging)
- What happens if you have a hole in your eardrum and an ant crawls inside your ear? (I don’t know but I will never sleep again.)
- How to prevent a tittie from growing on your ear (Is this a real concern?)
- when i laugh my belly button pops but i am a boy (Wait. Do you think this is normal for girls?)
- Chrissy, I fucking hate you and I want you dead by tomorrow morning bitch. (Jesus. I don’t know who Chrissy is but someone get her to safe house.)
- best personal peeing (Is this an award? Congrats?)
- what if a gnat flies in my nose and i find him in my ear a week later (How do you know it’s the same gnat?)
- There are cobras that look so!!so!! cool!!!!! and are the biggest cobras found ever and ever like never seen before that’s why they are cooll!!!!!
(I have no idea what you’re talking about but your excitement is contagious.)
- Where can I volunteer and get a small money as a thank you (That is not how volunteering works.)
- Dear google please help me with my question
(That is not how google works.)
- Can cats swallow a baby? (That is not how cats work.)
- How much money is in a $10 bill (Is this a trick question?)
- windex enema used by serial killers (No. Stop it.)
- strange and disturbing things about my old little pony (What?)
- straight white pubic hair that feels like a cat whisker (What??)
- Inflated cat butt (What???)
- single cougar boobs (What????)
- DIY cat outfits (Wha- Oh wait. Yes. I’m in. Come on over.)
- how much nyquil to make me unconscious
(This is exactly the week I’ve had too.)
- can single white rapid hair growth on forehead be a sign of early pregnancy (Probably not.)
- danger nipples (And I just found my new band name.)
- He put a dick on my forehead and said I’m a unicorn (He sounds like a keeper.)
- Why do I have white stuff on my face? (Hmm. Nope. Too easy.)
- True stories about everyone is telephoning to congratulate you on still being alive (That is a very specific genre.)
- What does a feces smell prophetically represent if I’m awake and not dreaming (If you’re awake and you smell feces you may have shit yourself. That’s not symbolic or prophetic. That’s real life.)
- Oh look. One of the peasants has a blog. (Ow.)
- poto bagina (I don’t know what you’re misspelling but I know you’re misspelling it)
- Dead squirrel in attic smell (That is my least favorite yankee candle.)
Conclusion: There are a lot of confused people in the world and they are all ending up here. Which makes sense in a way. Welcome. I think.
This isn’t a real post. Just checking in to say a few things that I have on my list of things to write about but that I haven’t written about because I haven’t had time to make into a polished post because I’ve been working on my next book (FINALLY MY BRAIN IS ALMOST WORKING AGAIN) but if I wait any longer I won’t write it at all and I’ll forget it…so, here is my mind dump of a few things you should know.
- Are you listening to the INVISIBILIA podcast on NPR? You should be. I just discovered it a few months ago and I’ve been pouring through them and the one I listened to yesterday (The Problem with the Solution) totally gut-punched me. But in a good way. Just…ow.
- Y’all, it’s not out yet but Samantha Irby’s new book is so good it made me vomit. Like, I want to smother her and take credit for writing it but then everyone would be like, “Wait. You’re a black orphan with Crohn’s disease? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?” But the book doesn’t come out until forever and I’m gonna forget to tell you about it when it does come out because I’m the worst so just remind me to tell you again when it’s available for preorder. Or read her last book again while you’re waiting. But then writing that reminded me of the book I read last year that was SO good and I wanted to tell everyone about it but it still had a billion months until publication so instead I just called my friends and read aloud from it while simultaneously aghast and giggling hysterically and I just went to check and it comes out this month so go order that shit right now because it was one of the best things I read this year. It’s called UNMENTIONABLE: The Victorian Lady’s Guide to Sex, Marriage, and Manners. It’s super gross and fascinating. Like Mary Roach’s Stiff, but funnier.
- Speaking of books, I am a constant reader and I was thinking it would be cool if we had a bookclub, but I’m too lazy for that so what if I just put the name of the book I’m currently reading on a blog post each week and then in the comments you can discuss? Except I pretty much only read nonfiction, sci-fi, fairy tales and graphic novels so it would be a very, very limiting bookclub. Not sure about this one. Just a thought I keep having.
- You know those metal kits I’ve been making for years when my anxiety gets high because working with the tiny pieces keeps me from picking away at myself? (If not, read 1000 ferris wheels here.) I just finished a new one. It took two hours to make it because it was 30+ tiny pieces but THE DOORS OPEN AND CLOSE. WHAT.
MOTHERFUCKIN’ TARDIS, Y’ALL.
- Hunter S. Tomcat is sitting in the chair next to me and he has this enormous grin of contentment and I thought, I should share this, but then I realized I haven’t cleaned the cat fur off the seat cushion in 3 days so it looks filthy, but whatever. A little bit of filth should not stand in the way of happiness. In fact, a little bit of filth is sometimes the only road to happiness. But that’s another story.
He looks like he’s wearing a too-small, tiny white g-string.
- Dorothy Barker decided she wanted in on this. This is my dog when I say “bacon”.
“YOU ARE MY FAVORITE PERSON, BACON.”
It’s not even real bacon. It’s fake dog bacon and it taste like sadness and giving up. It smells like bacon though, which is why I tried it. I thought I found a cheap bacon alternative that would help me keep my coat shiny but no, the bacon is a lie. A beautiful one though, according to this dog.
- I use a lot of affiliate links in my posts but the money I get if you order stuff just goes back to the community when we do Booksgiving or Christmas miracles and stuff. Just FYI in case you’re new to the tribe.
- I’m in Cincinnati this weekend signing books and stuff. Come see me. It’s free.
- There is no number 10 but I like to end on a round number. Hugs. ~ me
If you’ve read here lately you know that I’m coming out of one of the longer depressions I’ve ever dealt with and although it’s still up and down I’m having more and more days when I’m myself again. Those days are bright and warm, and coming back is like the first brilliant, life-saving breath after spending too much time underwater. I’m writing this now to remind myself how wonderful it is to breathe and live and feel human, both because I need a reminder for next time depression lies to me and tells me it will never go away, and also because maybe you’re in the hole right now and need a reminder that it will get better.
And then maybe it will get bad again. The ups and downs are always there for those of us with forever broken brains. But that’s okay because you come back out. The good is worth battling through the bad. It’s so worth the meds and the therapy and the time and effort and the waiting.
There’s a park in my neighborhood that we go to sometimes. There’s a playground at the edge of the park and the swings look out onto a cemetery, which I always thought was both strange and also a bittersweet type of poetry. Small children laughing and playing as funerals pass. Life beginning and ending and ending and beginning all at once in the same small space.
Yesterday I stopped there and the playground was empty so I decided to swing, and I went so high I felt like I was flying. And I flew, in between death and childhood, up and down and up again…in the place where I felt alive again.
And it was beautiful.
All of it.
It was worth it.
Y’all. My first round proofs from my next book just came in the mail.
If you read here you already know that I wasn’t able to focus on my next memoir because this illustrated book was blocking everything in my head and screaming to be born so I had no choice but to finish it, but it always seemed silly to say that I was spending 12 hours a day for months and months making what was essentially an irreverent coloring book about surviving life. But then today I scattered the pages all over the floor and saw how much I had accomplished. It made me realize that even though it’s felt like I was stalled in my head I was actually accomplishing something real that I’m proud of. And maybe you’ll love it or maybe you’ll hate it (GOD PLEASE LOVE IT) but no matter what, I did something, and sometimes you don’t realized what you’ve done until you’ve thrown it up on the floor. That was poor phrasing but you know what I mean.
And I stood there and said to myself, YOU ARE HERE, JENNY LAWSON.
AND I WAS. So it was fitting. Also, I was drunk when I wrote this. This post, I mean. Not the book. But I was drunk for some of that too.
Thanks for sticking with me through this strange, but much-needed detour. I hope it helps you as much as it helped me.
PS. If you didn’t know I writing an illustrated book and this all seems confusing just click here for the back story.
PPS. It won’t be out for several more months but you can preorder here. Also, a giant thank you to everyone who has pre-ordered because that stuff sort of convinces other bookstores to carry it when it comes out and I’d really like it to see the light of day for people who might need it. But at least it saw the light of my floor after walking me through a depressive period that I was afraid would last longer than I would. And that’s something to celebrate. Sometimes the little things are the big things.
Y’all, it is October, which means WE SURVIVED SEPTEMBER. GO, US.
It also means that a steady stream of pet Halloween costumes keep coming in because Victor still hasn’t reported my credit cards as stolen even though he keeps threatening to. Victor seems to think that Dorothy Barker can just wear the first costume I find but that is ridiculous. Mostly because pet stores don’t have dressing rooms for dogs so I have to buy them and then take them home to try them out. Victor thinks that Dorothy Barker doesn’t even need a Halloween costume because apparently he just thinks animals should be naked all the time. Which is sort of gross because technically when they aren’t wearing clothes they are putting their buttholes all over the house. If anything, Victor should be thanking me. Although this first costume of the year didn’t actually cover Dorothy Barker’s butthole so I guess I can sort of see why Victor just stared at me and sighed deeply when Dorothy jumped in his lap:
Dorothy Barker as Hank the Cowdog.
Victor says she was complaining here, but I think she was just yodeling.
More to come. Get ready.
And now…time for the weekly wrap-up! It’s usually on a Sunday but today it’s not because I fucked up my calendar and am not responsible enough to know how days work anymore. So it’s a little bit of Sunday on a Monday. Except Victor just read this and reminded me it’s Tuesday. This is Tuesday? Jesus. I need help.
Shit I made in my shop (Named “EIGHT POUNDS OF UNCUT COCAINE” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):
- I keep pocket journals in every bag, car and desk drawer. I made these especially to show people that they’re dealing with someone classy as fuck:
This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Kathy Scheiner, fashion consultant, who introduced me to the LulaRoe clothing line that she sells here. And she kept going on about these “buttery soft leggings” and I was like, “I don’t really do leggings” but then I got some and now I live in them. They are like wearing a hug for your butt and they make you want to tell strangers to feel your legs. Anyway, join her group here and she can help you out. (LuLaRoe is a California company offering clothes sold by consultants. Seems weird but people love it. Check it out here. Buy some leggings.)
There’s this box that the cats keep sitting in because it’s an empty box and cats have to put their buttholes on cardboard, I guess, but Victor was trying to make me laugh because I’ve been sort of down and so he was like, “Move over, cats. That looks like fun. I’m gonna sit in that box,” but boxes aren’t made for people unless they’re refrigerator boxes (which are awesome and remind me why cats probably like boxes) and so he fucked it all up and it was funny for a second but then the cats were like, “Hey, fucker. Are you drunk? Because stop fucking up our boxes. You have your own box. It’s the house you live in, asshole,” but Victor didn’t care because he can’t hear cat thoughts but then the cats were like, “You know what? Fuck this. This is still our box. You can’t destroy us. Our box is still living on IN OUR MINDS” and I was like, “Whoa. That’s a pretty bad-ass attitude, cats. I salute you.”
(That was the longest run-on sentence I’ve written in a week.)
“I’m mad, but I’m not moving.” ~ Ferris Mewler
“Fuck you. Still a box.” ~ Hunter S. Tomcat
And I was super inspired because sometimes things are all fucked up but you just keep living and enjoying things even if they’re totally broken. Because that’s what you do when life destroys your box. This is a weird analogy (especially since “box” is euphemism for “vagina”) but you know what I mean, probably. Point? Maybe things are shitty, but if you just keep living sometimes you realize that your broken outside has some nice things going for it. Like, it lets the light in like a skylight on all sides. Even if you don’t want that. Which it sort of seems like the cats don’t, but whatever. Stop glaring at us, cats. Other boxes are coming. We get them all the time, y’all.
It is Victor’s birthday in a few minutes and it’s taking every damn bit of my self-restraint to not run in the bedroom and jump on the bed and scream “WAKE UP, MISTER! IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!” but I’m not going to do that because I know Victor and not waking him up with all this glitter I found is part of his birthday present. YOU’RE WELCOME, VICTOR.
But I’ve had a bit to drink and I’m afraid I will oversleep in the morning and Hailey will say “Happy birthday” first so I’m posting my birthday present here so that I win. I WIN AT BIRTHDAYS. Also, I’ve been drinking because it’s been a very long day but technically midnight is like happy hour for me because my body doesn’t recognize normal working hours.
So Victor, this is for you:
Also, am I supposed to put periods in N.A.S.C.A.R.? Because it seems like I should since it’s an acronym but it also looks weird. We can talk about this when you wake up. Which will not be in a few minutes when it turns midnight.
PS. Booze bras totally exist but I just went to buy one and it only goes up to a C cup and that shit ain’t gonna cut it, so instead Amazon was like “Hey, check out these soft, floppy boobie flasks” and I’m a little insulted at the wording, but yeah. That might work.