“Winnie the Pooh is overrated.” ~ Eeyore (probably)

I saw that Winnie the Pooh was trending on twitter and my first thought was that he was dead and then I realized that was insane and my next thought was that he must’ve said something racist or sexually harassed someone and then I thought that the world is a bit bleak right now for me to rush to that conclusion but in my defense, the guy walks around wearing a midriff t-shirt and no pants all the time, which is questionable at best.

Turns out though that it’s Winnie the Pooh Day and that’s nice because I really love A. A. Milne, although mostly because I’m a big fan of Eeyore, who is my personal patronus and is forever overshadowed by a mildly problematic bear who only ever covers his upper nipples.

One of the most famous Winnie the Pooh lines was being quoted a billion times on twitter:

And I know that line is very celebrated but basically it just means “I want for your last day on earth to be spent in mourning, oh and also it’s your birthday.”  I mean, maybe it’s just me, but I don’t want your corpse as a birthday present.  If anything the quote should be “I want to live to three hours after you die so that I can throw out all the empty bottles and delete your browser history and burn all our p0rn before the grandkids get here and start poking around in our drawers.”  That’s the kind of love you want.  Realistic, gritty, slightly unsettling.  Get yourself an Eeyore kind of love.

PS.  Spellcheck keeps changing “Eeyore” to “Eyesore” and that is exactly the kind of bullshit Eeyore shouldn’t have to put up with but totally would because he’s jaded but also very real.  Happy Eeyore Day, y’all.  Don’t wish your corpse on people.  Unless they’re people you don’t like.  Some assholes probably deserve to be bombarded with unexpected birthday corpses.  Just choose wisely.

Hi. I’m still alive.

Sometimes this thing happens to me. It starts small. I spend the day inside. Then the next. Then I realize I haven’t posted on social media in a day and I think I should but I don’t trust my voice because I get used to the quiet. Then another day passes and I worry that I’ve waited so long to reach out that whatever I write should be very important because of the imaginary build-up in my head and then I can’t think of anything important enough to break the silence so I don’t write anything.  And then the next day starts and it begins again, but worse.  Quiet.  Hermity.  Afraid to even talk online.

It’s irrational.  It’s ridiculous.  No one cares if I don’t tweet for days.  No one cares if I do.  (I don’t mean that in a self-pitying way.  Just that no one is judging either way.)  No one is aware of the weird self-imposed vow of silence I accidentally placed on myself but the quiet gets louder and louder and each time I think maybe I just won’t come back…that maybe I’ll disappear forever.

I don’t.

I never do and it’s irrational to think that I would…that my brain would simply not let me leave again.  Even at my most agoraphobic I’ve never gone more than a week without leaving the house.  Even at my most terrified I never go more than a few days without reaching out on the internet.  But every time it happens I worry.

I wonder if that’s normal?  I mean, I know it’s not normal, but I wonder if it’s typical for reclusive people like me?  I wonder if that fear ever goes away…the one that tells you that the very last time you were a functioning person was just that…the very last time.  Ever.  I wonder if normal people hear the echo in their heads that grows louder and louder each hour?  I wonder if normal people write posts like these and then stare at them as they try to decide whether they even make sense to…well, to normal people.  I wonder if I even know any normal people.

My broken brain tells me to wait to post this because it’s unfinished.  And my brain is right.  But if I don’t publish it now I will delete it, and walk away, and spend another night in uncomfortable self-imposed silence.  So I’m  posting it.

It’s unfinished.  But so am I.  And I suppose that’s a good thing.

I am a terrible mother.

I had to pick up Hailey early from school because she’d hurt her neck, and I thought it was just a pinched nerve but to be safe I took her to the ER and on the form under “Chief complaint with your child” I wrote “SEVERE PAIN IN THE NECK” and then I read it again and accidentally laughed out loud and immediately felt like a terrible person.

Thankfully the doctor was able to give her a shot and muscle relaxers which stopped the pain and he said she had a bad cervical strain, which seems weird because I’m pretty sure your cervix is in your vagina.  He also said her parallelogram was spasming but when I told Victor that he thought I was insane, because apparently it was her trapezoid?  In my defense, I never took geometry in school and bodies are baffling.  Bottom line:  My kid is broken but better and I shouldn’t be allowed to be anyone’s mother.

PS. Follow-up to the flooding in our house:  They’re going to have to rip out part of the bathroom, which is distressing but for the best.  They also have to rip out some damaged floorboards upstairs and downstairs but since most of the house has wooden floors and it’s so old they can’t match the stain properly so they’re going to have to remove most of the furniture in the house, sand all of the floors and refinish them all, which means 3-4 weeks of people in the house and no furniture in the bedrooms or living room or basically any of the rooms I hide in.  I tried to get them to just not fix the floors because honestly I’d rather live with the damage than have strangers in the house but apparently it would fuck up the resale value of the house if we don’t fix it.  Moving into a hotel or apartment isn’t really an option so I’m now considering putting up a tent in the backyard for Dorothy Barker, the cats and me to hide in during the workday.  A tent, a laptop, three cats and a dog. Welcome to the workspace of the future.

I don’t have a good picture for this so here’s a video of my dog jumping in slow motion:

I want to be this happy when jumping.

A post shared by Jenny Lawson (@thebloggess) on

It’s the little things, y’all.

I was in the bathroom at the movies when someone let out the longest and loudest public fart I’ve ever heard in my life, and everyone went quiet for a second in that way where you couldn’t tell if they were more impressed or concerned and then a small child who sounded maybe three excitedly squealed, “OH MY GOODNESS MAMA. SOMEONE TOOTED SO LOUD!” in the same tone you’d use if you’d just seen Santa Claus and then she laughed so gleefully and her mom was like, “Samantha, don’t laugh” but you could tell that the mom was trying not to laugh too because this kids belly-laugh giggles were unstoppable and contagious and suddenly all of the women in their stalls started laughing and for the first time in my life I felt bad that it wasn’t me that farted, because I have never before witnessed a fart that gave so many such joy.


And on an entirely different subject…

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


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The Great Bloggess Floods – DAY 10

Just walked into my office, which is still filled with loud industrial blowers and dehumidifiers used to dry the water damage from the series of leaks and floods and I found a new medium sized puddle on the floor from another leak.

Cause of this leak:  The fucking dehumidifier.


I am 100% done.  Call an arsonist.

I’m sure I’ll find this funny eventually.

If you’ve been following here you know we had an upstairs sink overflow which flooded through my office ceiling and then our washing machine broke the same day and flooded the laundry room and kitchen and I’ve been living with severe anxiety disorder in a house of workmen and plastic tarps and industrial blowers, but today all the plastic was removed (except for the bit that covered the hole they had to cut in my ceiling) and the world seemed almost normal for a moment – until the insurance adjuster and contractor showed up to talk about construction and ripping up the warped floors -which they probably can’t match because they’re 40 years old- and I may have felt a bit sorry for myself because having strangers in my house is like living in a bucket of razors but I told myself that this was very little for normal people and I soldiered on and felt very proud of myself for not hiding in a closet.  And then they left and 10 minutes later I heard this terrible tapping noise and I realized THAT WATER WAS POURING INTO MY OFFICE AGAIN.  So I screamed for Victor who did not hear me because he’s on a conference call and is used to blocking me out as I found that someone (either the contractor, the adjustor or the cat they accidentally let in) had turned the same flooded sink on AGAIN and it was pouring all over the bathroom.

So now I’m legit crying and the water mitigation people have to come back in today and start over and Victor and I have decided that we’re going to rip out the offending sinks altogether and replace them with ones that have an overflow (WHO MAKES SINKS WITHOUT OVERFLOW HOLES?) but the ones that came with the house are fancy ass custom-made ones so basically I’m going to destroy the most beautiful sinks I’ve ever seen and pay thousands of dollars out-of-pocket to do it (not including the thousands of dollars for my deductible for the floor damage) and I’m feeling very sorry for myself and also very bad about feeling sorry for myself since this is such a small problem compared to…I don’t know…the plague, I guess.

The good thing is that several people told me that flooding always happens in threes so we’re done now.  Right?

Please say I’m right.

Also, please don’t let me get the plague.

Please tell me it’s going to be okay.  I know it is.  I just need to hear it.

PS. As this was happening I was literally publishing these shirts in my shop.  Not sure if this is irony or just punishment.

PPS.  I made Victor get up on a ladder and pull down the tarp on my ceiling so that the water could escape but he didn’t want to because he was afraid we’d do more damage but I insisted and I was like, WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG? and then when he untaped it a torrent of water hit him right in the face and soaked his business suit and I’m going to just go hide in the closet now.



This is going to be even more confusing than normal.  It’s been a week, y’all.

You know how at the beginning of every year half the people you know pick a word for the year?  Like PASSION, or THRIVE or CREATE and the word I always pick is NO-THANK-YOU because I already fail enough without adding random dictionary words to also disappoint thankyouverymuch but this year a word seems to have chosen me.

Remember a few days ago when water was pouring through my office ceiling and then the water mitigation people came and cut holes in the floors and ceilings and put plastic ET tents all over the house and ran industrial dehumidifiers and blowers for days to get rid of the damage and it looked like if Dexter (the serial killer) had an art installation and I handled it about as well as you might expect:

By day three of water damage pergatory things started to get weird and I just hid in the guest bedroom and texted everyone rather than leave the room and see the destruction.

So basically the water damage fucked up my office AND Victor’s conference calls.  He says it was less the water damage and more me being me but water damage multiplies everything by three so I’m pretty sure I’m not to blame because EVERYTHING IS ALL BORKED UP.  And Victor thought I was overreacting and that “borked” isn’t a real word but it totally is.  It’s when something is so ludicrously broke you can’t even spell the word right and it’s exactly what my office looks like right now.

So you know how people always say that the way you bring in the new year is indicative of how you spend the rest of your year?  Well, we went to pick up sushi for New Years and when Victor opened the restaurant door the entire thing ripped off of its hinges like Victor was some sort of very confused Hulk.  And then we had to apologetically hand the door to the restaurant manager and I was like, “YEP.  THIS IS OUR YEAR.  IT’S ALL BORKED UP.  WE’RE BORKED, VICTOR.”  And probably we are, but then I started laughing about it because it’s so ridiculous and I realized that bringing in the new year laughing at things falling apart is sort of how my whole life has gone so at this point I should just embrace it.

And then the manager leaned the door back into the door hole and he taped this sign to the door and I had to take a picture of it as we left because…I mean:

And that’s when I realized that my word for the year had chosen me.

My life is a little borked right now.  I am more than slightly borken.  I’m all borked up.  But that’s fine.

All the best people are.

UPDATED.  As requested, now available in my shop:

Or the more abrupt alternative.


So yesterday I insisted that I could hear rain but no one else did and turns out the upstairs sink was overflowing and there was water pouring out of the ceiling of my office BUT AT LEAST I WAS RIGHT HAHAHA ::quiet sobbing::

The bathroom cabinets are fairly destroyed but it could be worse, and turns out it is worse because a few hours later when we were washing all the towels we’d used to soak up the water there were suddenly gallons of sudsy water pouring down the stairs of the laundry room BECAUSE OF COURSE THERE WAS.

And all of the towels were already in the washer so we had to use beach towels and paper towels to stop the deluge and I can’t use the washer to clean any of the towels for fear of it happening again and I yelled, “WHAT TERRIBLE WATER SPRITE HAVE I OFFENDED AND HOW CAN I MAKE IT STOP?” and twitter said that I was going to need a young priest and an old priest and some holy water and I was like “NO MORE WATER, Y’ALL.

But twitter said I maybe needed to have my pipes snaked(?) which sounds very porny –

– but Victor said I was reading too much into it and he called Roto-Rooter but when the guy got here this morning he was like, “Your pipes are totally clean.  Clearly you have some sort of water demon infestation.”  He didn’t say the last part out loud but you could feel it.  He said he’d have another guy come today to make sure we didn’t have water behind the walls from the leaks and that guy just arrived a few minutes ago and Victor was on a conference call so I showed the guy around but he didn’t know anything about testing for water behind the walls and was just doing the same thing the first guy did so I went downstairs to get Victor and he was like, “”Why would Roto-Rooter be here again?  They just left.  WHO THE HELL DID YOU LET IN THE HOUSE?”

And that’s when I realized that the Roto-Rooter guy was probably the evil water phantom and I’d just invited him in the house so now we were totally fucked.  Victor said I was confusing vampires and phantoms and I was certain we’d go upstairs and he’d just be a demon shaped puddled of toilet water that would drown me.

But he was still there and human and seemed to doubt we’d had someone there already that day because according to dispatch no one else had been there but him and he said that the roto-rooter man we’d met had been dead for 20 years.  He didn’t actually say that last part but again, it was implied.

But then he called dispatch again and turns out the girl in charge was new and had no idea what she was doing so it was probably just a mistake.  Or possibly that’s just a trick water demons use to lull you into a false sense of security.  I don’t know.  Frankly I’m much more versed in vampires.

But on the bright side we realized that the washing machine was incredibly old and probably just busted so I just bought a new one for my birthday tomorrow but it won’t be delivered until next week so it’ll be a late birthday present.  So basically I can’t do laundry until next year because of demons.  Which is not a terrible birthday present all things considered.

PS. I just realized that they’re going to bring the new washer and take away the broken one on New Years Day and isn’t that bad luck?  Something about not removing anything from your house on New Years Day?  Is there an exemption if you’re removing broken things that might be haunted by demons?

PPS.  My laundry room isn’t upstairs.  Our house is built on a steep hill so there are two stories but there are 5 sets of stairs because every room on the ground floor is about 3 feet shorter than the one before it.  It’s like MC Escher built a house and then filled it with water demons and cats.

PPPS.  There is a Kristen Bell gif for everything.  That woman is a national treasure.

PPPPS. The water mitigation people just came and they’re going to have to tear out a bunch of the upstairs bathroom and my office and our insurance deductible is almost as much as I paid for college.

Going to just cry for awhile now.  Fucking water demons.

I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

My cat (Rolly) does this thing where she finds socks and washcloths and carries them around in her mouth like they’re baby kittens and yowls these loud muffled meows until she finds me and then she drops them at my feet and immediately walks away and at first I thought that she was trying to help me because maybe she thinks I’m an ineffective cat who obviously can’t fend for myself, but I just noticed that the socks left at my desk today are all pulled out of the dirty laundry and now I’m pretty sure that she’s just bringing me reminders that I am a terrible housekeeper.

Judging you. Harshly.

PS. A few of you were not aware that I have three cats as Rolly always gets left out since she’s crotchety and hides in cabinets most of the time (much like me).  She was born grumpy but we love her.  She will not let anyone hold her but she will occasionally perch on your head while you brush your teeth, but only if really, really don’t want her to.

Me and Rolly almost eight years ago today:

The thing I never got for Xmas

I was just thinking that I bet everybody has that one thing you REALLY wanted but never got and your neighbor had one but they were bored with it so you didn’t get to play with it as much as you wanted and even now you sort of still want one?

I’ll go first.  Sit and Spin.

You sit on it and twist the handle and spin until you throw up. It was magical.

I was trying to tell Hailey about it and she thought it sounded like something you’d yell at someone you don’t like and she has a point.  I looked up “adult sit and spin” and got some very questionable results so maybe she’s right.

Your turn.  What’s the one thing you never got but always wished you did?

PS. I found that picture on this pintrest page and now I’m nostalgic for all 80’s toys.

PPS. Unrelated but thought I’d mention because I keep seeing people tweet about it.  Right now there’s a big sale on Furiously Happy and the kindle version is less than $3. Same for the nook version  and iBooks.