You Searched For: elf on the shelf

Strange letters from my father

I never do paid posts but I’m doing this one for two reasons.  1) Because I was already going to write about this.  Stick with it and you’ll see why in a second, and 2) because the 8th Annual Jame Garfield Miracle is going on and I needed more money to help kids in need and this was a super easy way to do it.  So if you’re reading this, you are helping needy children.  EVERYONE WINS.

So, StoryWorth advertised on my blog this year and I loved it so much I paid full price to buy one for my dad.  Here’s how it works:  StoryWorth emails your family member weekly story prompts in the form of questions.  They reply to the emails and you get to read their amazing family stories that you never knew existed.  Then at the end of the year StoryWorth binds the years worth of stories into a keepsake book.  My dad has been doing it for about six months and the emails I get with his answers are so insane and lovely that I often have to call and ask, “Is that true?”  Stories about my grandparents and great grandparents that I may never have known are now being shared with family.  It is awesome and I highly recommend it because it’s a gift for you and for them.  It’s normally $79 but right now (until 1/31/18) it’s only $59 through this link. 

The stories my father shares are really too good to keep to myself so I’m sharing a few snippets of my favorites here.  You may think they’re strange and terrible but I love and treasure them.  I suppose that’s how family stories work though.  (BTW, Nelda is my mom.  She types the answers as my dad dictates.)

Have you pulled any great pranks?

I was prying something loose one day, and I broke off half the blade of my skinning knife. Stupid! Now the six-inch blade was only three inches long. It was now perfect for prying things loose, but it was also perfect for a practical joke.

We have an electric knife sharpener at the taxidermy shop, and I don’t allow anyone to use it except me. If you’re not paying 100% attention to what you are doing, the high-speed sharpening wheel can throw the blade back at you. Bad news.

I went to my own working area where I hide from the other workers and went to work on my joke. I super glued the tip of my broken knife blade to the inside of my inner right arm. Next I built up the wound area with 2-part epoxy. It’s a product we use in the taxidermy shop like modeling clay to make artificial skin on a mount. I smoothed out the epoxy, texturized it to make it look like my own skin and modeled it to look like that knife is really embedded deep in my arm. I used an airbrush to paint the epoxy area to match my skin. Next I feathered in some white, purple,and red paint to make a realistic cut. Finally I mixed up some blood- red and black paint. I added a little glycerin to give the fake blood a wet glossy look. I poured the blood where it needed to be, and splashed the rest on an old rag that I used to cover the gag.

I staggered into the shop and sat down, not saying a word.

Don was the first to notice the blood. “Holy Crap! What did you do?” Helen came out the office, and I removed the blood-soaked rag to show my work of art. Everyone gathered around me to either gawk or help. Helen hollered out, “Don’t put it out. He’s on blood thinners! He”ll bleed to death!”

No sooner did she say that, Jonathon grabbed the knife and pulled it out. I quickly covered the wound with the bloody rag. I figured the joke was over till Jonathon looked at the knife and screamed, “It broke off in his arm!”

I didn’t get any compliments for my realistic art work. I cleaned up my mess and came back in the shop. I sat down next to Jonathon and asked him if it looked real. He said. “Yeah, I thought it was real……..What are blood thinners?”

What have you changed your mind about over the years?

I use to think that dogs are a man’s best friend, but I’ve changed my mind. Dogs will always forgive you quickly if you ask them to, but they don’t do laundry, they don’t cook, they don’t scratch your back, and they don’t clean house. They are pretty good at doing dishes, as long as you smear left-over gravy over the whole plate.

I use to think that a loving wife would see the humor in that previous paragraph. Dogs will still always forgive you quickly if you ask them to.

I use to think this was funny.

 

If you could choose any talents to have, what would they be?

I asked Nelda what this question meant. Any talent? She suggested singing, or playing an instrument , or maybe x-ray vision. X-Ray vision might be cool only if it is selective. Some old fat guy crossing your path of vision could ruin your day. A cute young chick could also ruin my marriage. I’ll stick with my near- sighted astigmatism with floaters.

I already sing beautifully. I have that talent even though no one else thinks so. My ears are so good that in my head the notes sound pitch perfect. Self corrective hearing is what I call it.

I might like the talent to finish everyone’s sentences before they could say it. Unfortunately I hang around a lot of people that don’t make a lot of sense. I’m not going to take credit for a bunch of nonsense.

I would like the talent to communicate with animals. I would like to understand their thoughts. Someday I will.

What is one of your fondest childhood memories?

One of my fondest memories is going perch fishing with my mom. When I was about five years old, I got the fishing bug. I couldn’t get enough fishing. My dad had a farm out at Eola, about twenty miles from home. The whole family would pack up before daylight, and drive out to the farm to work. My dad would usually be on his John Deere tractor. My mom would be either building electric fence or picking rocks out of the field. My sisters would be together hoeing weeds. I, being the baby, stuck with my mom. We would work till noon, and then drive to our neighbor’s pasture to have a picnic lunch. A small dirt tank with green water surrounded by large mesquite trees was one of my favorite places to spread out our homemade quilts, and rest in the shade. We would eat bread, summer sausage, longhorn cheese, and drink Cragmont orange soda water. After lunch, I would get out my cane pole. I always saved some of my lunch to use for bait. Those perch would bite on anything, but bread was my favorite cuz it stayed on my hook the best,

My dad would usually sleep and rest while my mom would watch me fish. She was actually watching a five year old kid making sure I wasn’t gonna fall in the water. The fish would bite as fast as you put the hook in the water. They weren’t very big, but I kept anything that had eyes. I even kept a little turtle. When I caught a water snake, my fishing was over.

Have you ever won anything?

The last year that the famous Sam Lewis put on the World Champion Armadillo Races, I won. Actually, my armadillo won. All I did was get behind Army and stomp and holler and chase him across the finish line. I guess I came in second. I released the armadillo back in the woods, but I kept the silver ring. My daughter Jennifer has the ring (I think).

I probably wouldn’t have given her the ring if it was gold.

What inventions have had the biggest impact on your day-to-day life?

The cube is probably the greatest invention of my lifetime. Before the cube, there was really not much stability in my life. Spheres were the rage when I was growing up. How can one build anything on a sphere? No matter how you slice it, you end up with just a lot of wheels.There was hope for wheels in those days, although someone took the idea too far. The whole world revolved around wheels and anything that could be made with them.  Donuts were one of my favorites. It was like a wheel inside of a wheel. Clever. But look at a really fat donut from the side. It’s a cube. Give the cube the credit due. You eat a donut from the side, don’t you?

Cubes were the true building blocks of the future. The Egyptians knew this. They even made huge cubes all over their back yard. Then they sliced the cubes diagonally, tipped them over so they would rest on their most stable side, and “BAM”! They had yard art that would last for decades. People would ride by, see the yard art, and ask the age-old question, “Do you think that’s a cube cut in half on its axis, or is that cube half buried in the sand. If someone ever invents the wheel, we could build a big bulldozer and find out.”

Ice cubes. How would you like living in this planet without ice cubes. Sure, there’s people up north that don’t appreciate ice like we do, but what if they want to sit down for a while. Up north, chairs don’t grow on trees, but a big cube of ice would make a wonderful chair. You could probably build a house out of ice if you had enough of it laying around. An air-conditioned house. With an ice box.

I really don’t dislike spheres. After all, a sphere is just a well-rounded cube that likes to travel.

I changed my mind. My favorite invention that has changed my life is a 19 volt battery-operated screwdriver with an extra lithium battery. Made by Craftsman.

 

 

How has the country changed during your lifetime?

The country hasn’t changed at all. The cities are all screwed up. I lived in the country when I was a kid, and I live in the same country now. The trees I remember as a kid seemed to be a lot smaller back then. The country roads I use to walk down seem to be a lot shorter when I drive them.

Water skiing, tubing and fishing wasn’t good at all on our local lakes, but I got pretty good at skipping rocks. The trick was to find flat rocks about three inches across. If you could find rocks that were flat on the top and bottom, you were in business. With a little practice, you could get thirty or more skips out of one perfect rock. You could get even more skips if the lakebed wasn’t sandy. When you found that perfect rock, you didn’t squander it. You walked out in the lakebed and retrieved it. Once when I was retrieving one of my dad’s washers (sometimes I used artificials),I found a rowboat. It was a Sears/Roebuck 10 foot aluminum just like the ones in the catalogs. This boat was mine.There wasn’t a drop of water in my new boat, and I started dreaming about all the adventures I would have on Lake Nastywater. (We use to called it Lake Nasworthy, till the water level went down and old tires messed up our rock skipping). I named my boat S.S Minnow. Gilligan’s Island was my favorite after school tv show. I liked Gilligan the best, but Ginger and Mary Ann got a lot better over the years. My Dad enjoyed that show too. I knew he was really gonna get excited when I showed him The Minnow. We walked out on the lake and gazed down on our boat.

“Oh My Gosh! Look! ” Daddy saw my boat. He was excited. He peeled off his sweat stained farmers hat, smiled, sighed, and said something that I couldn”t believe. “There’s my old boat.”

“What! Your boat?”

“Sonny, I lost “The African Queen ” about forty years ago.” I was noodling for yeller cats down here when this was the Middle Concho. You know what noodling is……Catching them with your hands. It wasn’t against the law back in them days. Now, they would throw you in the pokie. I found this big rock right here and knew this was where the big one lived. Right under this rock. Your Uncle Sam, my older brother, was a better swimmer than me ,and he had more experience at catching big fish. Sam jumped in the water, took a deep breath, and went underwater. He came back up about 30 seconds later ,and told me the good news. “There’s a big hole under that rock, and there’s a catfish down in there. His head is as big as a five gallon bucket. As soon as I catch my breath, I’m going for him. My brother, Sam went under. He was down there a long time. He was down too long. I jumped in the water, and found the hole that Sam had entered. I reached in, and found Sam’s legs kicking up a storm. I grabbed his legs and started pulling him out of the hole. It was a struggle,but I pulled him out. We surfaced, and Sam was as white as a sheet. We looked around and couldn’t find “The African Queen”.

We sat up on the rock, Sam caught his breath finally, and told me what happened.”That monster fish was deep in the hole. I was rubbing his belly with both hands. My arms were extended, reaching for his gills. He kept swimming further in the hole. I didn’t realize that the hole was getting tighter, and I was running out of breath. My arms were out in front of me, and I couldn’t push my way out. I was stuck underwater. I was ready to give up when I felt you pulling me out. You saved my life!

We reached down to release our boat from the encrusted mud, and it proved to be a lot lighter than expected. There was no floor in the boat. It had rotted out years ago, but it still held some shared memories for my dad and me.

Uncle Sam and Daddy are both gone now. Maybe they’re floating down the Middle Concho in an old rowboat with a floor in it. Maybe they’re fishing for big yeller cats. They’re not noodling though because Sam promised God that he wouldn’t fish that way anymore.

Do you have any particularly vivid memories of your grandparents?

All of my grandparents were Czech. They didn’t speak English but they were successful farmers. They figured out early in life that to be wealthy, you had to have good discipline. They saved their hard-earned money that they made sharecropping. Then they bought land. They made do with growing their own fruits and vegetables. They raised chickens for eggs and meat. They had cows that they milked daily and butchered their own beef and hogs.They made their own clothes, churned butter, canned produce from the garden, made cheese , flour, cornmeal, and bread.  The only thing easy on the farm was falling to sleep at night.

Butchering hogs in those days was a big deal. There was too much work for one family to do all the work in one day. There would also be too much meat and sausage to cure, smoke, and package. The meat from a three hundred pound hog would go bad before one family could eat it.

When the first cold day would come around, all of the aunts, uncles, and third-generation heathens would meet at my grandparents house with all their butcher knives, tow sacks, hog scrapers, seasonings. We were having a butcher day. There was going to be a lot of work and a lot of fun for everyone except two fat hogs.

The women would build a big hot fire under a wash kettle full of water. The men would get the hogs up out of the mud, and wash them off. The hogs didn’t know what was going on with all this special treatment, but I bet they thought they were family and they were being invited for dinner. Smart pigs.

My uncles would build a sled,and then would position our dinner guest close to it. A shot would ring out and an unhappy but short squeal would alert the second dinner guest that now might be the time to cancel his reservation. The relaxing swine napping on the sled would be given a ride to the kettle area. Tow sacks (burlap bags) were pulled out of the boiling water and spread over a portion of the sleeping porker. The scalding loosens the hair on the pig and a dull butcher knife is used to scrape the hair (root and all) off of the pig.

The whole process is repeated on a new area of the pig until the whole hog is as balded as the top of my head. That pig is also pretty and pink like the top of my head.

Now it’s time to gut the clean “organ donor”. The liver, kidneys, and heart are saved. The small intestines are also saved. It was my job to clean out the green juice out of these long tubes. I liked attaching a garden hose to one end and let the water pressure do the work. My job was taken away from me because of the mess I made all over the porch. I think years later Whamo made a fortune with a toy called a Water Wiggle. I guess I was just ahead of my time on inventions, but my marketing skills had not yet been perfected. Sometimes, poop happens.

The rolls of fat from the hog is collected for later use. The ashes from the fire were shoveled into a tilted wooden trough. Water was poured over the ashes and drained into another container. This was lye. The fat is put in the kettle and rendered down to lard. Some of the lard was saved to cook with. It was poor man’s shortening. Then the belly meat and flanks were cut up (with the skin still attached), and the small pieces were fried in the lard. This was cracklins. You eat them hot with molasses and homemade bread. You now have a lot of lard in the kettle. Dump the lye in with some kind of perfume and boil the devil out of it. Let the whole mess cool down and you got soap. Cut the soap into bars with a butcher knife and let it get cold. It will last forever. I think it has such a long shelf-like cuz no-one wants to use it. It stinks, and it takes your hide off with the dirt. It will cure a young boy from cussin .

Cut up the pork chops,cure the bacon, cure the hams and hocks, and start turning the grinder. It’s “SAUSAGE TIME”.

Those casings that were rescued from me are refilled with seasoned ground pork and tied into links. Hang ’em in the smoke house.

It’s now pretty late, and everybody’s tired. We sample the sausage and clean up the huge mess. I clean the front porch.

I give Babuska (Grandmother) a hug goodbye. I smell like the front porch, but she returns the hug anyway. That was sixty years ago, but I can still smell the aroma of fresh baked poppy seed kolaches from her homemade apron.

I still smell like her front porch.

My dad with his sisters and his mother. Wall, Texas.

 

What’s my name again?

I consider myself very lucky that my brand of crazy is recognized so universally that my books have been translated into lots of different languages, and that means I have a whole shelf full of books that I wrote but can’t read a single word of.  It’s a weird mix of feeling very accomplished and also completely stupid at the same time.

I just got this copy, which I think is Ukranian (or Bulgarian, maybe?) and the cover is awesome but which of those words is my name?  It’s a riddle I cannot solve.  If you speak Ukrania (or Bulgarian?) can you help me out?

Help?

A post shared by Jenny Lawson (@thebloggess) on

 

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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.):

Shit-you-may-or-may-not-want-to-see:

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Myawesomebeauty.com. A little bit about them: My Awesome Beauty is a website run by beauty addicts that have real experience in the beauty business (formulator, esthetician, beauty advisor etc.) where you will learn how to choose the cosmetics or beauty devices worth your money following specific criteria. The guides and reviews really help because they explain what to look for and what to check, such as the guide about the facial steamers or the guide on microdermabrasion machines for home use.” You should check them out here.

 

Will a signed copy of my book one day be worth one million dollars? Almost probably.

So, I was asked to sign some collector copies of FURIOUSLY HAPPY for people who wanted a signed book but didn’t want to go to a signing and I said I’d do it, but then I got a draft of the signing page and it said something like, “This limited, signed, 1st edition has been specially bound” and it felt like it was missing something, so I scrawled “IN HUMAN SKIN” on the bottom and sent it back.  Then a month later I got to sign the actual books:

inhumanskin

I fucking love my job.

Lots of indie bookstores will have collector signed copies available so if you want one just check this list for your local store and then call or email to pre-order:

AL: Alabama Booksmith, Homewood * Capitol Book & News CO, Montgomery * Little Professor Book Center, Homewood
AZ: Antigone Books, Tucson  * Changing Hands Bookstore, Tempe * University Of Arizona Bookstore, Tucson
CA: Vroman’s Bookstore, Pasadena * A Great Good Place, Oakland * Alexander Book CO, San Francisco * Book Seller, Grass Valley * Book Shop West Portal, San Francisco * Books Inc, San Francisco * Bookshop Santa Cruz, Santa Cruz Chaucers Books, Santa Barbara * Copperfield’s Books, Sebastopol * Gallery Bookshop, Mendocino * Green Apple Books, San Francisco * Haight Booksmith, San Francisco * Kepler’s 2020, Menlo Park * Readers’ Books, Sonoma * Skylight Books, Los Angeles * Warwicks, La Jolla
CO: Book Shop of Fort Collins, Fort Collins * Bookies, Denver * Bookworm of Edwards , Edwards  * Boulder Bookstore * Tattered Cover Book Store, Denver
DC: Kramerbooks & Afterwords, Washington
DE: Browseabout Shop Inc, Rehoboth Beach
FL: Bookstore 1 Sarasota * Classic Bookshop, Palm Beach * Inkwood Books, Tampa * BookMark, Neptune Beach  * Vero Beach Book Center, Vero Beach
GA: A Cappella Books, Atlanta * Avid Bookshop, Athens * E Shaver Fine Books, Savannah * Eagle Eye Bookshop, Decatur * G J Ford Bookshop & Café, St Simons Island * Little Shop of Stories, Decatur
IA: Prairie Lights-Bookstore, Iowa City * Iowa Book, Iowa City
IL: Anderson’s Bookshop, Naperville * Book Cellar, Chicago *
Book Stall of Winnetka, Winnetka * Book Table, Oak Park *
City Lit Books, Chicago * Unabridged Bookstore, Chicago
KS: Raven Book Store, Lawrence
KY: Carmichael’s Bookstore, Louisville * Coffeetree Books, Morehead
The Morris Bookshop, Lexington
LA: Garden District Bookshop, New Orleans * Maple Street Bookshop, New Orleans * Octavia Books, New Orleans
MA: Odyssey Bookshop Inc, South Hadley
ME: Maine Coast Bookshop, Damariscotta * Sherman’s Books & Stationery, Boothbay Harbor
MI: Bookbug, Kalamazoo * Between the Covers, Harbor Springs * Forever Books, Saint Joseph * Horizon Books, Traverse City * Literati, Ann Arbor *
Mclean & Eakin Booksellers, Petoskey * Schuler Books & Music, Grand Rapids
MN: Magers & Quinn Booksellers, Minneapolis * Common Good Books, Saint Paul * University Minnesota Bookstore, Minneapolis
MO: Subterranean Books, Saint LouisThe Novel Neighbor, Saint Louis
MS: Fountain Books GreenwoodLe Muria Books, Jackson * Square Books, Oxford
NC: Quail Ridge Books & Music, Raleigh * Park Road Books, Charlotte Flyleaf Books, Chapel Hill * Malaprop’s Bookstore, Ashville * Regulator Bookshop, Durham
NH: Country Bookseller, Wolfeboro * Gibson’s Bookstore, Concord 
NJ: Word Bookstore, Jersey City
NM: Bookworks, Albuquerque * Collected Works Bookstore, Santa Fe
NY: Book Revue, HuntingtonWord Bookstore, Brooklyn * Oblong Books & Music, MillertonOpen Door Bookstore, SchenectadyPower House Arena, Brooklyn * The Golden Notebook, WoodstockStrand Bookstore, New York * The Northshire Bookstore
OH: Book Loft, Columbus * Joseph Beth, CincinnatiThe Bookshelf, CincinnatiBooksellers on Fountain Square, CincinnatiBooksellers at Austin Landing, Miamisburg * Jay & Mary’s Book Center, TroyLearned Owl, Hudson
OR: V J Books, Tualatin
PA: Penguin Bookshop, SewickleyTowne Book Center and Cafe, Collegeville
RI: Books on the Square, Providence
SC: Hub City Bookshop, Spartanburg
TN: Union Ave Books, Knoxville * Booksellers at Laurelwood, Memphis
TX: Brazos Bookstore, Houston *
UT: The King’s English Bookshop, Salt Lake CityDolly’s Bookstore, Park City
VA: One More Page, Arlington
VT: Everyone’s Books, Brattleboro   * Phoenix Books, Essex * Yankee Bookshop, Woodstock
WA: The Elliott Bay Book Company, SeattleVillage Books, Bellingham
WI: Books and Company, Oconomowoc
CAN: Raincoast Books, Richmond, BC

And you can preorder it online at Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million, or if you’re in Canada, you can get it at Indigo.

And you may be saying to yourself, “But what if I already preordered?  Why am I being punished for being helpful and supportive?  WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US, JENNY?” and I would say, first of all, stop yelling because you’re going to get us all fired.  And secondly? I’ve got your back, Little Ninja, because if you preordered and can’t make it to a book signing then just click right here to fill in your address and you will get (for free!) a signed bookplate that you can stick inside your book.  Last time my bookplates had Hamlet Von Schnitzel on them and that’s hard to top, but these have illustrations of the Midnight Raccoon Rodeo on them and they are better than tacos:

bookplateforfuriouslyhappy

You might be saying to yourself, “What is the Midnight Raccoon Rodeo?  Is this supposed to make sense to me?  STOP GIVING ME REFERENCES I DON’T YET GET, YOU WHORE” and I would say, “Calm your tits, y’all.  Calm all of your beautiful tits. Are you hungry right now?  Because you’re not yourself.  Go eat some cheesecake.  And then go listen to the sample of my audiobook where you can hear a tiny snippet of what the Midnight Raccoon Rodeo is all about.  You’ll have to get the book to find out how I actually lost both of my arms and if I ever got them back though.  That’s a teaser, btw.  Not a very good one if you’ve seen pictures of me with arms lately, but still.”

Here’s a picture of me signing hundreds of bookplates in spite of the fact that Hunter S. Thomcat insisted they were tiny pillows he needed to lay on while I was signing them.

Hunter: “Why are you writing on my pillows?  What are you even doing?”

furiouslyhappybookplates

FYI: A few of bookplates have weird marks from when the cats would grab at my pen while I was signing (because my cats are assholes who don’t understand professionalism) but whenever that happened I tried to make up for it by turning the errant squiggle into a small drawing of a dog’s face or curly fries, or a lower intestine.  Sorry.  I had to work with what they gave me.

So go preorder and then get your bookplate and then leave me a comment because I’ve heard a rumor I’ll be getting real copies of the book any day now and I’d love to give a few away as a small thank you for your incredible support.

Honestly, this book would never have happened without you.

So if people don’t like it, I’m blaming you.

I don’t make a very good monk. For several reasons probably.

So, I’ve read that monks say that to achieve happiness you have to perfect the art of living in the moment. They say, “Don’t wait.  Don’t think of the future or the past. Be completely in the moment.”

As much as I’ve tried, I can never master this because I’m perpetually worried about the future, but technically even when I am thinking of the future I’m still in the present moment even though that particular moment is a moment when I’m obsessing about the future. I’m not sure if this means I’d make a very bad monk, or if it makes me a very talented monk who is just really good at multitasking.

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And now, our weekly wrap-up.  Buckle-up, Buttercup.

Fabulous graphic by @wedrawtweets

Fabulous graphic by @wedrawtweets

 

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

Shit-you-may-or-may-not-want-to-see:

Shit you should buy or steal because it’s awesome:  

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by How To Not Get Screwed.  It’s not a sex book.  It’s about moving, which is good because summer is when most people move and also it’s when you’re very likely to get screwed and that’s when this comes in handy.  Spot a scummy real estate agent, call them out on their underhanded bullshit, everything you need to know about buying or selling a home.  You should check it out here.

Blasphemy Scratchnsniff

For my birthday Hailey gave me a betta fighting fish.

"Don't pet me."

“Don’t pet me.”

His temporary name is Prisoner #7942 (that’s the number that was written on the small bowl he was living in) but he needs something better.  I was leaning toward “The Admiral” but Victor suggested “Old Gregg”, because he’s one fishy bastard.  Hailey suggested that I call him, “THE PRETENDERS.” She’s not great at this.

I asked twitter, and they gave me several good suggestions, like:

  • Lawrence Fishburn
  • Darth Betta
  • Atticus Fish
  • Prisoner Zero
  • Sir Nigel Rufflebottom
  • “He looks like Legolas.  But without legs.  Legless Legolas.”

But then someone suggested I use the Benedict Cumberbatch Name Generator and these are just a few names it suggested for my fish.  I dare you say them out loud and not giggle:

  • Snorkledink Cottonpatch
  • Fragglerock Candygram
  • Crumpledonk Chuckecheese
  • Wimbeldon Chickenbroth
  • Timothy Chowderpants
  • Bumblebee Frumblesnoot
  • Bukkake Custardbath
  • Syphilis Curdledmilk
  • Bunsenburner Coochyrash
  • Bandersnatch Crumplehorn
  • Rinkydink Clompyclomp
  • Blasphemy Scratchnsniff

Conclusion:   I’m gonna need more fish.

PS.  Right now, Prisoner #7942 is in a large bowl on a very high shelf, but that’s not stopping Hunter S. Thomcat from going full-meerkat on him:  

unnamed

It’s adorable and unsettling all at the same time.  

"I just want to touch him a little.  With my mouth."

“I just want to touch him a little. With my mouth.”

PPS. This was supposed to be a weekly wrap-up, but I don’t have a sponsor for it so I was like, “Hey, lemurs.  You guys want in on this action?” And the lemurs were like:

"Who let you in here?" ~ lemurs who can't appreciate a good business opportunity

“Who let you in here?”

So fuck those lemurs.  I’ll sponsor this post myself, lemurs.  This week’s post sponsored by thebloggess.com, a website specializing in the care and feeding of aquatic-cats.  Or something.  I didn’t really research it.  It looks awesome though and ads start at $100 a month, which is crazy cheap and (surprising) less than what you’d spent setting up an aquarium for a $5 fish.  Click here if you want in.  

PPPS.  As requested, 2015 Bloggess Calendars are hot off the presses:

bloggess calendar

Yeehaw, motherfuckers.

Your cat has a cooler house than I do.

Go home, everybody.  The best cat toy ever has been created and nothing you buy for your cat will ever be impressive again.

star wars catMy cats just looked at this picture from their cardboard box on the floor and then shook their tiny heads at me in disgust and shame.

Frankly, I’m disappointed too.  Why don’t they make these in human size?  It’s like a loft bed without having to have a loft.  Plus, if you just got comfortable but you need a drink you can just drive your bed to the fridge.  If they put a bathroom and a well-stocked bookshelf in there I’d probably never leave again.

PS.  In case you missed it…yesterday a lot of you expressed envy at my horrific 80’s cat sweater, so I found you something even better.  It’s at the bottom of the post.

I’m going to make a t-shirt for Victor that says “You’re doing it wrong.” It would save him so much time.

After the 80 bajillionth time Victor told me that I was doing something incorrectly I decided I needed to make a t-shirt for him that simply says, “You’re doing it wrong.”  It would save him so much time.

He can’t really help it, but he does tend to point out everything I do wrong, from sitting (too floppy)…to drinking (too sippy)…to writing (overuse of the word “too”).  I suspect that if given the opportunity, he’d critique the rate at which my cells divide and how poorly I organize my uterus.  But then I considered the t-shirt idea again and I realized that when he told me I was “doing it wrong” I could stare at him and know that if he had chosen to wear the appropriate shirt he wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of saying it out loud.  So technically he’s doing it wrong.  And we both win.  Or lose.  Together.

If you need one for your own personal Victor, just click the picture.

PS. As I was designing this shirt for Victor he paused behind me and said, “That logo is crooked” and then walked away.  And it’s not crooked.  It’s just the way it looks on the website.  But he’s sort of proving my point.  Then he said he liked the way that it started out almost positive and then really got the point of the matter.  I suggested that he could wear some duct tape over the “WRONG” part and just strip it off only when I was fucking something up but he said that duct tape loses its grip after a few hundred removals.

Then he pointed out a typo.

I rest my case, you guys.

He says he does too.

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And in other news, it’s Sunday, which means its time for the weekly wrap-up:

What you missed in my shop (Named “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 is brought to you  by Dumb White Husband vs SantaThe perfect family Christmas is a lie. Just ask the guy in this story. He had the perfect plan and everything got together for the holidays just to screw it up. Weird shaped gifts, neighbors, fruitcakes, and some a-hole dressed as Santa telling kids they’ll be getting a bike for Christmas. It’s all the things we love that suck about the holidays. And, it’s only 99 cents.

I bet that truck is sticky

Conversation I had with my husband after seeing this semi:

me: Wow.  Why would you even need a truck to sell three-ways?

Victor:  Maybe they’re so popular they’re selling them in bulk.

me:  I don’t understand the business practice.  Do they bring the three-way to you?  Are there three-ways happening in the back of the truck?  What does it all mean?

Victor:  So many questions…so few answers that don’t make me want to spray that truck down with disinfectant.

PS. In that truck’s defense, it’s apparently just a trucking company with a really unfortunate name.  In my defense, when you google “three way” this is the very first thing that comes up:

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And in other news, it’s Sunday, which means its time for the weekly wrap-up:

What you missed in my shop (Named “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 brought to you by the creator of Spank Me, Mr. Darcy, a tongue-in-cheek (among other places) version of Pride & Prejudice injected with erotica.  From LifeStyle Mirror:  “Fans of classics and historical romances will appreciate this Jane Austen-meets-kink mashup, using Pride and Prejudice as the jumping-off point. Do you like bodice-ripping? Oh, there’s bodice-ripping, all right, and then some.”  You can check it out here.

This might be the most boring post I’ve ever written. Feel free to ignore it.

My friend Laura is working on a project where she’s looking at the desks and working spaces of bloggers and she asked if I could shoot her a picture.  I did and then I thought, “My God, I could totally post this because I always love to snoop in other people’s offices, and also because it’s a fucking ridiculously easy post and then I could just spend the time I would have spent working on a real post watching When Harry Met Sally instead, because apparently I’m the only person in America who still hasn’t seen it.”  And then I agreed with myself.  Because I am lazy.  And agreeable.

So here is my office.

This is it when we first moved in a few months ago and were still in remodeling hell:

I don’t have a true “before” picture, but it looked just like this, but less messy and without the half-built bookshelf.

And here it is today:

It’s not finished, but it’s close.  I’m still saving up to replace the giant chandelier with something smaller and to have a plug installed in the floor so I don’t have to trip over that ugly extension cord every day.

The walls are a bit…odd.

And they sort of keep getting odder, but it’s my office so Victor can’t complain. Much.

My posse.

My posse.

The nice thing about weird shit on your shelves is that it looks nice even if it's dusty.

The nice thing about weird shit on your shelves is that it looks nice even if it’s dusty.

I made this.  Not the deer.  The deer was rescued from a flea market.  But I did bedazzle his nose and make him magical.

I made this. Not the deer. The deer was rescued from a flea market. But I did bedazzle his nose and make him magical.

 

The left head hates the tie.  The right head loves it.  Victor would prefer it if I'd stay away from his ties.

The left head hates the tie. The right head loves it. Victor would prefer it if I’d stay away from his ties.

And this is the corner that’s hidden when you first look in and it’s also where I put all my shit when my real desk starts getting messy and gross. I highly recommend having at least two desks so that one always looks clean and the other always looks like you’re actually working.

And that’s it.  You’ve now seen the inner-workings of my personal escape hatch.  Now I feel very naked.  Feel free to join me.*

*In sharing your desk.  Not in getting naked with me.  I have boundary issues.

Don’t judge me. I come by it naturally.

Several weeks ago I bought a fascinator/hat from one of my favorite rogue taxidermists, Emily “Sending-me-road-kill-in-the-mail-is-a-good-thing” Binard, because it reminded me of Hamlet Von Schitzel from my book cover.

Sadly, I do not have a face for fascinators and so I assumed it would be destined to sit on a shelf forever, until I remembered my collection of old, thrift store finds on my wall.

Yorick now has a new home:

And for those of you wondering if James Garfield made the move…here’s the view from my desk:

This is what I do instead of knitting.  Don’t judge me.

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And in entirely unrelated news, it’s time for the weekly wrap up:

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

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 is sponsored by the fantabulous folks at www.karmalot.com (Passcode: SENDKARMATODAY) where you can send and receive gift cards with your Facebook friends. Then you tally up all those giving and receiving activities as Karma points to see if you are more giving person or receiving person.   The app is available as both web and iOS app.  You should probably check it out.