UPDATED X 2: Lost in translation

February 1, 2012

in Random crap

Victor: What are you doing?

me:  Making stuff for my store.  It helps me break my writer’s block.

Victor:  Who’s gonna buy a mug that says “I love to go down”?  Are you making mugs for hookers again?

me:  What?  I don’t have a mug that says that.

Victor:  Uh, yeah, you do.  It’s right there.

me:  That’s a guy on a slide.  It means “I love slides.”  Because I do.  Because they’re whimsical.  The fuck, Victor?  Not everything is about sex.

Victor:  That’s not a slide.  It’s an escalator.  That’s the universal sign for going down.

me:  Really?  I thought it was the universal sign for loving slides.

Victor:  Why would there be a universal sign for loving slides?

me:  WHY WOULDN’T THERE BE?  SLIDES ARE AWESOME.

Victor:  You just made a mug proclaiming the whimsical joy of oral.

me:  FINE.  I’ll add “I LOVE SLIDES” on the back.

Victor:  Awesome.  Then people will think you’re a good-time girl who likes to do it in the park.

me:  This is all going on the blog.

And just like that, my writer’s block was gone.

Which I think proves that I was right all along.

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

Speaking of writing, I’ve been working on a special thank you gift to everyone here who has been here to encourage me while I struggled through years of writing and rewriting my book and I finally have something.  If you’d like to skip this small token of my affection you can go watch this video of a hedgehog taking a bath.

Still there?  Awesome.  Because everyone who preorders (or has already preordered) my book before March 16th gets a free, limited-edition, Hamlet Von Schnitzel bookplate for your book.  Personally signed by me.   (One per person.  Offer only valid for US {non-PO Box} addresses right now, but they’re working on that.  I’ll keep you posted.)

This is the bookplate:

By the way, This is my digital signature and it's much prettier than my real signature, so feel free to print this out and tape it to your book if you live in Canada or prefer something immediate and legible.

You have to fill out a tiny form here to get the bookplate mailed to you, and if forms make you nauseous you can just come to my book tour and get me to sign a copy there.  I have no idea where I’ll be touring.  Possibly just at my house.  Or at your house now that I have your address.

Please have nachos ready.

Want to pre-order? Click on Hamlet Von Schnitzel for links.

PS.  A huge special thanks to Penguin for printing and mailing out all of these because I’d have a nervous breakdown if I had to do this myself.  Seriously, we owe them all a margarita.  And some of those nachos probably.

Already pre-ordered?  Awesome.  Then click here to fill out the form to get your free, signed bookplate.

PPS.  Thank you.  I mean it completely when I tell you that I could not have finished this book without you, and I can’t even believe that it’s going to be out month after next.  Freaking out a little.  And by “a little” I mean “shitloads.”

PPPS.  (I just wrote “Shitloads” and auto-correct was all “Oh, you mean, “shiploads“.  We’ll change that for you.”  Auto-correct, you know nothing of my work.)

UPDATED:  Holy shit, you guys.  My book is currently # 2 on Amazon’s humor list and #2 on Barnes and Nobles hot & trending list.  I said on twitter that if it hit #1 I’d post a picture of me either naked or with twine and it doesn’t look like we’ll hit it, but I’m sending you something almost as good.  Ferris Mewler.  Nude.  WITH TWINE.

What's so hard about this, Nathan Fillion? Even my cat can make this shit look good.

Seriously.  THANK YOU.  I am furiously happy and I owe it all to you.  And to Ferris Mewler who isn’t so uptight about twine.  Nathan Fillion could take a lesson.

UPDATED AGAIN:  So, we somehow made it to #1, you guys.  I plan on blaming you when Tina Fey comes after me with a cleaver for taking her spot for an hour.  But true to my word, here’s a picture of me naked.  Does it count as naked if I wear a hat?  And a friend?  I say yes.

Me, technically naked.

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The end. And the beginning

January 31, 2012

in I am totally overrated,more than meets the eye

I know I said I was going to give away five red ball gowns as part of the #travelingreddress project, but I am a tremendous liar who can’t be trusted. That’s why instead today I’ll be mailing out nine red ball dresses to women around the world. The tenth will be just as beautiful, but will be smaller and hopefully a bit more magical, as it will be going to Alice:

Amazing pictures already pouring in from women across the globe in their red dresses. In fact, some have improvised using just a few yards of material to make amazing portraits. Ball gowns are flying across the country and photographers are furiously offering free sessions, and honestly I may have cried a little.

A few minutes ago I got an email telling me that I’m a final nominee for a Health Activist Award. I’m not sure if it’s for my work with rheumatoid arthritis or with mental illness but it seemed to require some weekly chats or such and I immediately felt both proud and panicked and quickly emailed them:

I’m not sure if i was chosen because of my rheumatoid arthritis or my mental illness issues but the latter sort of keeps me from doing web chats or phone calls or any of that. My anxiety is just too strong right now for me to take on anything else. But I’m so honored. If you’d rather give it to someone less crazy than me though I totally understand. I just have to take care of myself a bit more and that means saying no when I want to say yes. I hope you understand.

After I sent that out I expected to feel bad, like a failure for not being the activist others might see me as, but instead I felt…comforted. Because I’m finally learning that I have to be my own activist as well and take care of myself.  And sometimes that means saying “no” when every fiber of your body says “yes”.

Sometimes a no is a yes.

Sometimes a battle is the triumph.

Sometimes a dress is a hope.

PS. Tomorrow I’ll be back in my usual old irreverent, biting satire as usual. The drugs should kick in any minute.  Promise.

UPDATED:  I won, in spite of myself.  Literally, and figuratively.  How perfectly bewildering.

 

Comment of the day: When you said “Ball gowns are flying across the country”, the first thing I thought of was looking up in the sky and seeing scores of victorian dresses flying through the air. And a small child, who is walking down the street with her mother would look up at the sky and ask: Mommy, what are those things? And the mother would smile, look down and say to her child: That’s hope. ~ Plaidfox

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The traveling red dress revisited

January 28, 2012

in more than meets the eye

If you’re a long-term reader of this blog you already know all about the traveling red dress and the magic it brings to those who wear it.  If you’re new, start here and then come back, because it’s about to get fun.

A few weeks ago we picked up the traveling red dress project again as people began offering red dresses to strangers in the hopes that they could pass a little magic into the lives of people who were celebrating a milestone, battling an enemy, or simply in need of a shiny red ball gown to remind them how amazing they were.  People around the world started giving out red dresses and offering to do red dress photo shoots for free.  It was covered by Forbes and the Washington Post.  And it was awesome.  And inspiring.  So inspiring, in fact, that my friend Julia mailed me a beautiful red dress to pass on to anyone who needed it.  She knew that most of us curvier girls find it hard to find beautiful ball gowns so she picked out an XXL with a very adjustable corset.  Today it came and I opened it up at my friend Maile’s photo studio and we decided to christen it.  And so, for one hour I wore the hell out of that red dress.  And it was lovely.

Right now I’m 20 pounds overweight.  I can practically see 40 from here.  My boobs are too big and my hair is too mousey.  My laugh lines grow deeper and worry lines are starting to show.  I feel worse about myself than I have in a decade.  But that dress reminded me of who I was.  And who I’ve become.  It reminded me that I’m not just who I see in the mirror, but also what I’ve overcome.  I’m here.  I’ve fought hard for these laugh lines and I’ve battled to survive the worry lines.  I have scars that tell stories and marks that tell tales.  I have hair that shows I survived the chemo drugs I took for my RA, and I have and soft, cushy, smothering arms like my grandmother.  And that makes me beautiful.

 

I’m still a nervous wreck.  I’m still self-consciously terrified in front of strangers.  I still often feel purposeless and a little bit lost…

But I also feel like me….

And I remember to take a deep breath and realize that’s good enough.

PS. The traveling red dress in these photos is ready for its next owner.  As always, if you get a traveling red dress it’s up to you if you want to share the pictures or your story, but you can do so here if you like.  Your only real responsibility is to enjoy it and then pass it on to the next stranger who needs it ,with instructions to keep it going until the damn thing falls to shreds that even Cinderella’s mice couldn’t fix.  And as a thank you I’ll be sending out five brand new red ball gowns myself next week.  If you want a chance at one just leave a comment about what you’re celebrating, or fighting, or surviving.

PPS. If you’re inspired by these stories and want to donate a red dress or a photo session you can do so on the traveling red dress Facebook page.  There are lots of girls giving dresses and lots of girls needing dresses.  And somewhere in the middle, magic happens.

PPPS. If you want to buy this dress yourself you can get it for under $100 right here.  It comes wrinkled as hell and needs steaming, but it works and the laced corset gives it enough leeway to fit several sizes up or down.  (The XXL should fit a 14 – 20 fairly well.)  Also, this company isn’t paying me for this.  But they totally should be.

PPPPS.  The traveling red dress isn’t always red.  It isn’t even always a dress.  It’s anything you’ve always wanted but denied yourself because you thought it was too silly.  It isn’t.  Joy is always worth it.  Go and find your personal red dress, my friend.

And wear the hell out of it.

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Advanced cooking lessons

January 28, 2012

in blogging about blogging again,I am totally overrated,Random crap,weekly reruns

Conversation I had after wandering into Victor’s office.

me:  Hey.  How do you make hot water?

Victor:  …Really?  “How do you make hot water?”  Are you fucking with me?  

me:  No.  I want to make a tea but I don’t know how.

Victor:  Go write this on your blog right now.  You just asked me how to heat up water.  You basically just confirmed everything I’ve ever said about your cooking skills in a single sentence.

me:  I know how to get hot water.  I know how the tap works.  I just don’t know how to use the coffee maker and I thought maybe it would be easier to use it than using the microwave.

Victor:  So you need a machine to make you hot water…because the microwave is too complicated?

me:  I’m trying to work smarter, not harder.  DON’T JUDGE ME.

Victor:  It’s moments like this I wish I was on twitter.  ”Overheard at our house: ‘How do you make hot water?‘”

me:  FINE.  How about this?  Can you show me how to make coffee without any coffee in it?

Victor:  See, that sounds more complicated.  Not normal or rational, but less ridiculous.  So, yes, I will show you how to make coffee with no coffee in it.

me:  So basically you’re only helping me now because of semantics.

Victor:  How else will you learn?

PS.  Victor says tomorrow he’s going to teach me how to make “hot dog water”.

Victor is a very helpful kind of asshole.

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

And now, the weekly wrap-up:

What you missed on Ill-Advised:

What you missed on my satirical sex column:  (Moderately safe for work if your boss isn’t a complete douche-canoe.)

What you missed on the Houston Chronicle:

What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “Eight pounds of uncut cocaine” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):

What you missed on the internets:

This week on shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome

  • This week’s wrap-up sponsored by my friend Leonie who created The Goddess Guidebook to help you create your own Goddess Year in 2012 using art therapy  and the tools and techniques she’s providing.  She’s adorable and full of light and is a terrible driver.  Or possibly the person in the other seat is a terrible driver.  One of those.  You should check her out.

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And then I became a grown-up. By eating a grown-up. Or hiring a grown-up. One of those.

January 25, 2012

in Random crap

Six weeks ago I told twitter that I desperately needed an assistant to work a few hours a week, to help me weed through bad pitches and tell me to take my meds.  Many fabulous people offered and I promptly ran away because I’m not responsible enough to hire an assistant, and I ended up hiding under the table and wishing I had some sort of an assistant to do this stuff for me.  Then Victor yelled at me because I’m making myself sick from working 12 hour day, but it seems sort of self-indulgent and weird to have an assistant when you have a job where you write about porn and giant metal chickens all day.  And besides, I don’t really need an assistant.  I need a Mary.  

A decade ago a sweet woman named Mary helped me learn how to pretend to be good at HR.  She told me jokes when mean people made me cry.  She took over projects when I got pregnant and couldn’t stop throwing up.  She’d crawl under the desk with me (as if that was perfectly natural) when I’d have a panic attack.  She was nice and kind to me when I was the lowest on the totem pole because she doesn’t understand totem poles and prefers jungle gyms.

And that’s why this week I broke down and hired an assistant.

I hired Mary.

She’s sweet and twisted and couldn’t care less about social media, but I’ve never met anyone who cared more about people.  Also, she’s terrifically over-qualified, but is willing lie around in the gutter with me because she’s bored and awesome.  Which is the perfect combination, really.

Meet Mary:

Me and Mary at our last job. And yes, I realize that's a terrible picture but I was pregnant or drunk at the time so it can't be helped. Also, I asked Mary if I should use another picture but she said she liked this one because it's the most indicative of us. Which is a little sad, and also just perfect.

**********

In other news, you guys really want chicken.  I couldn’t even keep up with all the amazing names on the last post so instead I used the random number generator to pick the winners.  And yes, I did say winners.  Because first place gets the metal chicken, and second and third get desk- sized resin Beyonces from my shop.  Plus, all three get an advance-reader-copy of my book as long as they promise not to xerox it and throw the pages off a balcony until after it’s officially released in a couple of months.

The grand prize goes to Heidi, who wins the incredibly well named “Johann Sebastian Buck-BAWK”.  Runners up are Michelle S. and Valerie.

PS. You guys are the best.  Seriously.

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