Every time I tell Victor to scratch the super-itchy part of my shoulder-blade that I can’t reach he never gets the right spot, and I get more and more frustrated and I scream “NOT THERE. SCRATCH WHERE IT FEELS LIKE SPIDER EGGS ARE HATCHING UNDER MY SKIN”, and then he yells “You’re not pointing at anything specific” and I explain that that’s because I can’t even reach that part of my back well enough to scratch it, much less point at it and then he inexplicably starts scratching the top of my arm for some reason and I’m like “REALLY? Why would you think I couldn’t reach my own arm?” and he huffs and walks away and I end up having to go outside to rub my itchy shoulder-blade on the brick siding and then Victor yells at me for being semi-topless outside and for looking like I’m “giving the house a lap dance”, and then I tell him that I’ve finally decided to get a tattoo that says “What are you doing? Here. SCRATCH IT RIGHT HERE” since apparently he doesn’t understand shoulder-blade directions, and then he pointed out that since I’m so bad at describing things that the tattoo artist would probably put the tattoo in the wrong place as well, but that’s not true at all because I would just tell him to put the tattoo where all the bloody scratch marks are from where I had to ask a brick-wall to give me a back-rub.
Thus ends the longest, most confusing run-on sentence in the world. I win the internet. And so do you if you actually followed it. Someone get us a small trophy and money for a tattoo.
In non-related news, it’s time for the weekly wrap-up. Let’s get started, shall we?
What you missed on all of my columns and blogs
- Nothing. I started watching Doctor Who this week and lost an entire week.
What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “Eight pounds of uncut cocaine” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):
- “People to Kill” notebook. The perfect notebook to take to meetings. And when HR points out that your notebook isn’t appropriate you can point to the fine print at the bottom of the notebook, which reads, “with kindness.” There’s no law against kindness, HR. I know. I looked it up.
- This one is a little less subtle.
- “DO NOT DISTURB” sheet of stickers. I suggested putting them all over your body when people were fucking with you and I assume zazzle agrees because they won’t let you order less than 40 stickers at a time. Because they’re enablers.
- The really sad thing about this is that this isn’t photoshopped at all. That shit happened.
What you missed on the internets:
- Kick-ass stuff I pinned.
- I have a weird life. (Disclaimer: William Shatner never followed or unfollowed me. He blocked me. But then later he unblocked me after a tireless campaign of insanity. We’re fine now. Probably.)
- I was on the front page of Fark and no one called me the c-word. This is the Fark equivalent of a high-five. I did get “weapons-grade crazy” and “morally reprehensible” though. Those are going on my resume.
- Wil Wheaton collating paper on Forbes. I think we can all learn a little from this.
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 Liz (from Mabel’s House) who wrote a fabulous book entitled My (not so) Storybook Life: A Tale of Friendship and Faith. I haven’t read it yet, but judging from the bad-ass cover it’s about a girl who can levitate and who owns the exact same wallpaper I want in my office.*
*Disclaimer: Apparently this book has almost nothing to do with levitation or my office, and instead is about finding humor in the dark places and about learning to love what you already have. It’s an excellent lesson that I need to learn, although it would be easier to do if I already had that wallpaper and knew how to levitate.