This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to be on twitter:
PS. My friend MariaMelee is truly amazing and her roach spray review was like the Iliad of roach spray reviews. She’s awesome. I’m going to go to bed now.
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From the category archives:
I'm an idiot
A series of inappropriate emails I sent to my mother which she has not responded to at all.
(This is all totally true, by the way. That’s what makes it so very awful. FYI: Lisa is my sister. Gabi is my niece. My mother is a saint.)
To: Mom
Sent: 2:02pm
Weird. I can’t even get my cat to wear a condom.
~me**************************************************************************
To: Mom
Sent: 2:04pm
Crap! I meant “sweater“. I can’t even get my cat to wear a SWEATER. Why did I say “condom”? What is wrong with me?
Pretend Lisa sent this.
~me
****************************************************************************
To: Mom
Sent: 2:10pm
Also, I just remembered that you said your computer won’t play videos so this whole thing is pointless. Just trust me that the video was adorable and didn’t have anything to do with cat sex at all.
~still me
****************************************************************************
To: Mom
Sent: 2:12pm
OR ANY TYPE OF SEX. It’s a video of a kitty getting wrapped up in Christmas paper. OHMYGOD! SHUT UP, ME.
~ugh
*****************************************************************************
To: Mom
Sent: 2:15pm
Hi. I apologize for being your daughter. But really you brought this on yourself.
~ me Lisa
*****************************************************************************
To: Mom, Lisa
Sent: 2:22pm
Hi mom!
You’re going to see a bunch of emails from me in your inbox but you shouldn’t read them because they’re all infected with a terrible virus. Which I got from Lisa. You should really just avoid her and also any emails from her. She’s not with you right now, is she? Because if she is you should push her down.
~me
PS. I found Gabi’s jacket in my car but now I’ve lost it again. I need Lisa’s address in case I find it again. Oh hang on, I’ll just CC Lisa on this so she can tell me. Duh.
******************************************************************************
To: Mom, Lisa
Sent: 2:26pm
Oh. I have made a horrible mistake.
You both should not open the emails from me in your inbox. They are infected with a virus. Which I got from daddy.
I love you both very, very much.
~me
PS. Lisa ~ What’s your address? I may or may not have something to send to you but if you don’t get anything it’s your mailman’s fault and totally not mine. You have a terrible mailman.
*******************************************************************************
So far? No response. Except for my sister who simply responded “You are an idiot“. Hard to argue with that.
Comment of the day: I just sent my mom a picture of a house in Ohio where we spent 2,475 days growing up. She wrote me back and said, “Oh look, it’s that house in the Hamptons we spent the afternoon at.” ~ Suzy
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So remember a couple of months ago when I was speaking at a humor panel at Blogher but they scheduled Tim Gunn (from Project Runway) to appear at the exact same time so I demanded that my minions kidnap Tim Gunn and bring him to the humor panel and then the PR company handling Tim Gunn caught on and I had to distance myself from the whole thing so I wouldn’t be implicated and so the night before the panel I went to see Carson Kressley from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to convince him to come to the humor panel and just stand next to me because the only way to fight a Tim Gunn is with a Carson Kressley but then Carson was all “Um…no” and I tried to seduce him but he wasn’t into me so I told him I was a drag queen and spoke really throatily and I’m all “Seriously. This is a wig. See.” and he just kind of looked at me so I’m all “Fine. Will you at least sign my boobs so you’re there in spirit?” and he did but rather unwillingly? No? You don’t remember that at all? Well that’s probably because I got distracted and forgot to write about it. I am the worst blogger in the history of ever. So fine. Let’s catch up…
I sent out these tweets in July:
- My Blogher panel is competing with Tim Gunn from Project Runway. Awesome.
- We must strike down Tim Gunn. Or find a way to lure him to our panel. Someone get on that.
- Minions, activate! Tim Gunn is sweet but easily confused. Use that to your advantage.
- But be careful. Tim Gunn easily spooks. He’ll be at the Tide booth so you just need to find a way to move the Tide booth into our room.
- Seriously, he’ll go wherever that Tide booth goes. The Tide booth is key here. Don’t get caught.
- Also, nothing can be tied to my name for legal reasons. If you get caught, blame blogher. They drove us to this.
- And by “us” I mean “you”.
- Shit! The Tide people have found this thread. Abort!
- Tide people, I had nothing to do with this conspiracy to kidnap Tim Gunn or your booth. I just heard about it myself. So weird.
Then the whole Carson Kressely debacle happened.
Then we had our humor panel which was awesome even though I had a panic attack and ended up sitting on the edge of the stage in case I needed to crawl under it because I FORGOT MY XANAX IN MY ROOM and I’m rummaging through my purse madly minutes before we begin and a girl sitting near me is all “Are you looking for drugs?” and I’m all “Yeah. Is it obvious?” but then someone else in the audience slipped me a tranquilizer and I didn’t take it because I didn’t know how it would react in my system but it made me feel better just knowing it was next to me and that’s why I love chick blogging conferences. Because someone nearby always has sedatives to share.
The end.
Oh wait, no. I still have more story. But that would have been a good end so if you want to stop there I don’t blame you. Then the panel ended and I ran back to my room to hide except the hotel “accidentally” kicked us out and changed the locks on us and then I got an email from the head of the company doing PR for Tide that she had Tim Gunn trapped in a hotel room and that I should come down. And I did. And he was lovely and charming and genuine and I found myself blurting out how sorry I was for the “whole kidnapping conspiracy thing” and he looked at me kind of blankly but still kindly and the head PR lady gave me this look like “We didn’t tell Tim Gunn about the kidnapping conspiracy” so then I tried to change the subject and I’m all “Seriously, I adore you. Can I molest you?” and then he started blushing and I’m all ”Shit. Above the belt, I mean” like that’s going to make it better but instead of running away he said “Certainly, Jenny”. TIM GUNN REMEMBERED MY NAME, Y’ALL. And then I lightly molested him and so did Alli and I’m all “Would you consider adopting me? Or give me some sperm or a hair follicle so I can clone you?” He didn’t respond but I’m pretty sure it’s just because he didn’t hear me because he is totally the kind of guy that would give you a cup of sperm if you really needed one. In other words, he’s a gentleman. William Shatner could learn a lot from him.
I love this set because he looks a little scared at first but then he's all "Aw fuck, let's just run with it". Except he probably doesn't say "fuck". Even in his head. He's just *that* charming.
Then this morning I read that Tim Gunn is going to be featured in an Iron Man comic:
So basically that means I’m ONE FUCKING DEGREE FROM IRON MAN. I called Victor to tell him because he’s at a conference and he was all “Do you have any idea what time it is here?” and I’m like “Time zones mean nothing to me. Iron Man!” Then he hung up. Probably because he was too intimidated by me and Iron Man.
PS. On an utterly unrelated note (except for the fact that this happened the same day I touched Tim Gunn and I forgot to write about it too) Deb and Anna and I ran right into the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile, which seemed like an ironic tie-in for a chick conference but when someone offers you a chance to stroke the Wienermobile you don’t say no. Unless you’re Deb, who told the Oscar Mayer rep that she wasn’t that into it because she’s a vaginatarian. And the weinie-mobile chick was like “A vegetarian? We have vegetarian products” and Deb was all “No. A VAGINAtarian” and the girl just kind of smiled blankly and ran away. Then I’m all “I don’t think she got it. Maybe you should’ve just said ‘lesbian‘?” and Deb was all “Oh no. She totally got it”. Then someone might have put a Bloggess sticker on the wienie-mobile as it was pulling away and it certainly wasn’t me and then Anna was yelling “WHO DEFILED THE WEINER-MOBILE?” The end. Again.
PPS. In hindsight, I think I should have ended this at the first “the end”. Or maybe skipped all this and just posted a link to a video of a cat taking a shower instead. That probably would have been less confusing for all of us.
Comment of the day: So… don’t kidnap Tim Gunn? Shit. We really need to work out a better system for communication. Don’t get me wrong, this way is fun, but I’ve kind of committed here. Would it be bad… if… let’s say… someone already cut off his finger? I’m not saying it happened, but… okay. It happened. But it wasn’t me. Okay. It was me. But you said “kidnap” and everyone knows that means somebody’s losing a finger. Whatever. I’ll let him go but someone’s going to have to explain this to the Tide people. Not it. ~ MayoPie
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So I kept telling Victor I wanted a mac because all the cool people have one and he’s all “You HATE change. Stick with your PC that I built out of Pterodactyls because that’s how long ago it was. PC’s are awesome if you are a Republican.” But then my friend Laura was all “Basically Macs are for dumb people who like shiny things” and I’m all “Holy shit, that’s totally me” and Victor was all “I’m just not sure this is right for you” and I’m like “Dude, I totally know what I’m doing here so stop questioning me”. So yesterday Victor got me a mac and installed it for me and now I’m all “WTF?” because first off all, there’s no CPU. It’s just a giant monitor and no tower thingy and I’m all “Where’s the tower?” and Victor’s like “It doesn’t have one” and I’m all “No seriously, where is it?” and Victor’s like “I thought you said you read up about these things?” and I’m all “I READ THAT IT WAS SHINY!” and then Victor was all “Huh?” and I’m like “I heard that it was shiny?” and then he walked off. So basically it runs on magic. Which seems fine except before when my PC would break I would just blow on the tower and keep turning it off and on until it fixed itself except it usually wouldn’t and I’d have to ask Victor to fix it and he’d get all huffy and I’d be all “Well I’ve been working on it for hours” and now how am I supposed to pretend that I tried everything when all there is a monitor and a keyboard and also the keyboard is so tiny that I think it’s missing letters.
Also I started surfing and I kept trying to right-click and it wouldn’t let me and I’m all “VICTOR THIS MOUSE IS BROKEN” and he’s like “There’s isn’t a right-click button. Macs are different” and then I stopped breathing for a little bit. Also there is no “print screen” button and instead there’s a button to make the sun brighter and another one to set cruise control, apparently. I could be wrong about these because I’m afraid to touch anything at this point. I even had a whole Nancy W. Kappes post for you today except it’s in my email and I have to be able to copy and I can’t do that because I can’t right -click and THIS FUCKING COMPUTER IS TRYING TO DESTROY ME. In fact, the only thing I’ve accomplished all day long is that there’s a camera on the computer that’s kind of awesome and I used it to give myself three boobs like in that movie that had the lady with three boobs. I can’t remember the name of it and I would google it but I can’t figure out how to open another window without losing this post but I’m pretty sure it was called “The Color Purple”.
So, yeah. Mission accomplished.
Comment of the day: The joy of that photo is that it is all things to all people. If you want to see three boobs, they’re there. If you want to see a massive Cleavage Canyon, your wish is granted. But once you see one it becomes impossible to see the other, unless you blur your eyes and stare for awhile, but then your colleagues come up and they’re all, WHAT’S WITH THE THE THREE TITS? and you have to explain that all you see is a cleavage canyon, and you’re reminded how hard it is to connect with others, and you sink into an existential malaise. Perhaps it’s best not to look at the photo.~ Dropkickjeffy
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I know I said I’d have more info on the People’s Party today but apparently I’m a big fat liar. Instead I’m going to show you a screenshot of my email. Please keep in mind that all of these emails are from real people and are not spam. (Click to enlarge.)
Also, I just got a package from the girl who sent the email with the subject line “Pig heart in the mail”. I’m afraid to open it so I’m going to post this and if I don’t post an update it’s probably because I’m dead.
PS. I want to be buried in a giant pile of marshmallows instead of a coffin because it’s cheaper and also ecologically sound. And mourners could eat them while they mourn and no one can cry eating marshmallows and someone would do that thing where they try to stick the most marshmallows in their mouth and they’d choke to death and then I could be buried with that person, like I’m some kind of marshmallow pharaoh. Also I’d like to have a pony buried with me in case they don’t have cars in heaven.
UPDATE: Opened the first layer of packaging. Contains brown paper packages tied up with string. Except the brown paper packages have robots drawn on them.
UPDATE 2: First package contains buttons with angry lego crossdressers on them. Also a bag to put dirty underwear in. True story.
UPDATE 3: Opened the second package from pig-heart lady. It’s a sleeping bag for Barnaby Jones. And it’s awesome. For me. He hates it.
UPDATE 4: Fuck. It’s a duvet, which apparently means “bed cover”. So I’m supposed to stick old underwear and towels in the first sack and then put the duvet over it and it makes a dog bed. Which is awesome. Except that I don’t have any old towels or underwear.
UPDATE 5: I mean, I have underwear…just not enough to fill an entire dog duvet with.
UPDATE 6: Problem solved. I stuffed the duvet with a car battery. Awesome.
UPDATE 7: Dog refused to get on duvet. Instead I stuffed the duvet with bag of wire hangers I was going to send back to the cleaners.
UPDATE 8: This dog is an asshole.
UPDATE 9: Okay, I took all the hangers out and when I walked back in the room the dog had put himself back in the bag. He looks very proud of himself. The cats are giving me a look like “we totally warned you”. They totally didn’t. These cats are assholes too.
UPDATE 10: Me: I HAVE NOTHING TO PUT IN THIS DUVET TO MAKE IT LOOK NORMAL. Victor: How about the dog’s old bed? Me: I hate everyone in this house.
Comment of the day: Look at that poor dog. If ever a dog needed Snuggie sleeves. ~ Steam me up, kid
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