From the category archives:

bizarre

I’m huge and/or hated in Germany

January 8, 2013

in bizarre,I am totally overrated,Random crap

Today I opened my mail and found my book translated into German, along with a German magazine filled with pictures of my grandparents for some reason.

It was weird. And awesome.

At first I thought the title translated to “What’s With The Night War, Stinky?” but according to people on twitter it’s more like “Is This Actually Happening, Or What?” Which makes slightly more sense, but I kind of like my interpretation better. Also, Hamlet Von Schnitzel is now a Dracula for some reason, and I thought my cat was checking out the German magazine article about me, but apparently he just wanted to hide his face because he’d rather not be associated with this whole debacle. Fair enough.

Also, I asked Victor what “Psycho” translated to in English and turns out it just means “Psycho”. So I guess there wasn’t a lot lost in translation after all. And now we can all speak a word of German, so technically I think this means that my blog is now considered educational. And world-renowned. And a little psycho.

Just as it should be.

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In The Library

January 2, 2013

in bizarre,mixing medications,more than meets the eye

For those of us with triskaidekaphobia the year 2012+1 will be an entire year of forced behavioral therapy.

It’s a stupid superstition but one I still struggle to shake as (for me) it’s wrapped into a weird layer of OCD-based terror. In my mind, every time some one says the unlucky number, everything becomes unlucky for everyone who has just heard that number, and only saying it again will cancel the negative effects. Except that it’s impossible to know exactly if you’re on the lucky or unlucky side of life, and so maybe you say the unlucky number to get you out of an unlucky period but then you get your arm chopped off and then you realize that you were in the unlucky period before, so you say it again and then your leg falls off because you’ve just said the unlucky number too many times and fate is now pissed that you’re fucking with her. This all makes sense in my head.

That’s why yesterday at my friend Laura’s house I was a bit of a nervous wreck entering the first day of this terribly named year. And so we decided to change the name. To “The Library.” At first I thought this just made me feel immediately better because the booze had just kicked in, but now I’m perfectly sober and I’m in the second day in The Library and I feel so terribly comforted.

(by Johanna Ljungblom)

In The Library you are safe. It smells of old books and worlds you’ve yet to explore. It smells of worlds you’ve loved that beckon you back. It smells of the bacon sandwich the guy in the corner has smuggled in while he devours words and food, not sure which is more filling.

In the library you are prepping.

Everything that happens in the library is just preparation for the next year. That means if you fuck something up this year it’s fine. This whole year is just practice. The library is made for that. Maybe you spend the year writing a book no one will ever read. Maybe you spend the year recuperating from last year. Maybe you burn the Thanksgiving turkey and forget an important birthday. It’s okay. It happened in The Library. It was just practice for next year. Maybe it’s insanity, or maybe it’s just me, but somehow I think we all need a year in The Library. A year where it’s safe to make mistakes. A year where it’s okay to have to escape and stare out the window without someone asking you when you’re going to get back to work and fix your life. A year where we all whisper quietly about our plans and our wishes and dreams and darkest fears. A year in The Library. A year of getting lost in dusty, forgotten corners, and a year of finding the want. (The want to leave. The want to play. The want to shrug off the dreams and walk out in the sunlight. The want to pounce on 2014 with glee and rapture.)

The Library opened yesterday. It closes 51.9 weeks from now.

Welcome.

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Hello. Did you send me a box of dead hamster?

October 2, 2012

in bizarre,Random crap

Victor: Did you check the mail?

me: Yeah, there were three bills and a box of dead hamster.

Victor: *sigh*

me: Everyone gets bills, babe. You can’t escape bills. It’s not personal.

Victor: Mhm.

me: You aren’t going to ask about the box of dead hamster?

Victor: Nope.

me: Because I kind of really need you too.

Victor: Nope. Don’t care. Don’t want to be involved.

me: Because it was sent to me anonymously and it’s kind of freaking me out. Someone sent me a box of dead hamster in the mail and I don’t even know what that means. Is it some sort of code? Is it a threat? I’m not even sure it’s a hamster. Or why it has wings.

Victor: Hamsters don’t have wings.

me: I KNOW. THAT’S WHY IT’S SO UNSETTLING.

Victor: FINE. Show me your dead hamster.

me: Finally.

I think the wings are made of human skin.

Victor: That’s…not a hamster.

me: You’re saying that because of the wings, right? But they’re detachable.

Victor: No. I mean it looks too big to be a hamster. I think it’s a guinea pig.

me: Or a small dog.

Victor: And why is it crunchy?

me: RIGHT?

Victor: It’s like it’s filled with cellophane.

me: Or corn flakes.

Victor: Why would someone fill a hamster with corn flakes?

me: WHY WOULD SOMEONE SEND ME A BOX OF DEAD HAMSTER? I THINK WE CAN THROW LOGIC OUT THE WINDOW HERE, Victor.

Victor: That ship has sailed. You probably bought it yourself and just forgot.

me: I think I would remember if I bought a box of dead hamster.

Victor: Remember when you bought that cobra and forgot that you bought it until you opened it?

me: Mmm…not really.

Victor: Well, it happened.

me: Now I’m craving corn flakes.

Victor: Stop talking.

PS. Did you send me a box of dead hamster? Is there a hidden meaning? Is the crunchy noise inside of it a note explaining it? Is the hamster an envelope? For the love of God, someone help me.

PPS. The cats fucking LOVE Mr. Squeaky. If that’s what his name is.

Look at you, Mr. Squeaky. You. Are. Perfect.

Come here, you. Give us some snuggles.

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I’m tempted to do this whole post in caps. THAT’S HOW EXCITED I AM ABOUT IT.

August 6, 2012

in bizarre

Remember last week when I was trying to buy that dead pony I wanted? (I’ll just apologize for that first sentence right here if this is your first time here. You should probably just come back tomorrow.) Well I got outbid on it, but that was actually a blessing in disguise because then I found something I wanted even more that was just as awesome and also ethically taxidermied.

And a few minutes ago…it arrived.

Knock-knock, motherfucker.

That’s right, y’all. Anyone can have a dead pony, but it takes a specially fucked up kind of birthday wish to end up with a dead pegasus.

(Special note for those of you who are horrified that I support the slaughter of pegasuses: It’s actually a zebra colt mannequin covered with old, leftover cow and goose pieces. You can tell because of the stitching and also because pegasuses are much bigger in real life.)

But don’t tell that to Hunter S. Thomcat:

It's like The Never Ending Story, part 12.

NEVER GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS, YOU GUYS.

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EVERYBODY WINS

March 15, 2012

in bizarre,blogging about blogging again,I am totally overrated

Remember last month when my blog kept crashing whenever I got too much traffic? Well, turns out I needed a new dedicated server and all that junk, and I sort of vacillated on getting one because it’s more expensive. But then I got an email from a company who offered to sponsor my new server this year just because they’re awesome and are tired of my blog being down. They even asked that I not mention who they were, which is either because they’re just amazingly selfless or because they’re embarrassed to be associated with me. Possibly both, if they’re as smart as I suspect. Regardless, I adore them and they decided that not only would they help make the blog remain viewable to you all, but they also made you a present.

It’s a Beyonce-the-Giant-Metal-Chicken popsicle-stick puppet and it’s awesome.

Just click on the widget on my sidebar and it’ll let you print it out for free. Give it to your kid. Freak out the guy in the next cubicle. Decorate your office. Plus, they’re making more bloggess-style puppetry, so every week you can see what they’ve come up with next.

PS. Is this the most professional, least profanity-laden post I’ve ever written? Shit yeah it is.