Category Archives: bizarre

Toilet Leprechauns: Probably the Pandora’s Box of our Generation. (I added the “probably” so they can’t sue me for libel.)

David Sedaris once wrote that he often asks people waiting for his autograph questions like, “If you saw a leprechaun on the toilet would you run away or know that he meant you no harm?” and now that question haunts me.

Personally, I’d be pretty sure that anyone standing on the toilet meant to harm me because why else is he waiting to jump me in the bathroom, but I think I’d still stay because when else are you going to get the opportunity to hang with a leprechaun? Even if it murdered you it would be awesome. Not for you, I guess, but for your descendants. “DEATH BY LEPRECHAUN” it would say on my death certificate. I’d star in our family legends for decades.

The problem is that I don’t actually know what death by leprechaun looks like, and you never see a leprechaun fingered for murder so I suspect no one would know the magnificent sacrifice I made. My guess is that leprechauns just make your death look like a heart attack. We’re probably spending all this reasearch money on heart disease when really we should be focusing on leprechaun prevention.

In fact, my grandmother might have died from leprechauns. They said she died from hepatitis but who’s to say she didn’t get that hepatitis from a leprechaun? Who knows where diseases come from? Flu, hantavirus, yellow fever, leprosy, anthrax…we might have gotten the whole lot from infected toilet leprechauns.

That’s probably why my mom always made me put toilet paper on the seat before sitting on a public toilet. Because you never know how many infectious leprechauns just came out of it.

I’d like to think David Sedaris and I would be friends. Or that he’d put a restraining order on me.

Either way, we’d have a real connection, and that’s all that matters.

PS. Spellcheck is trying to tell me that “leprechauns” isn’t even a real word.  Nice try, leprechauns.  I don’t know how you infiltrated spellcheck but I’m not falling for it, assholes.

Good Luck Satan

Yesterday I went to a thrift store and I saw an old hand-embroidered tablecloth and I thought, Does that say “GOOD LUCK SATAN”?

good luck satanThen I looked closer and realized that no…no it doesn’t say that.

good luck on saturn

It actually says “GOOD LUCK ON SATURN”.  Which makes…slightly more sense?

Then I unfolded it and realized it says: “GOOD LUCK on SATURDAY”.  Which is honestly sort of a let-down after all of that.  Personally I preferred “GOOD LUCK on SATURN” because the embroidered cat looks all kinds of pissed off, like she’d stab you if she got a chance, but she’d settle for just shipping you off to Saturn.  And she made you a hot, poisoned pie to keep you warm because Saturn is all icy and cold.

So I’ve made some changes:

goodluckonsaturnPS. I made you a pillow.  It’s just like the ones your grandma made, but with more stabbing:

pillow

 

 

Let me be frank.

This week I spoke at frank in Florida and it was lovely.  Click here to see the glorious magnificence of my hotel room.  I highly recommend checking out all of the speeches but if you have 30 minutes and want to see mine you can check it out here.  You have to fast-forward to the end to see it.  It’s at the 1 hour 14 minute mark.

PS. I corrected Matt who credited @crappytaxidermy but it actually was @craptaxidermy so ignore me.  And I’m sure I fucked up other stuff too.  The usual.

poorprofessor higgins

PPS.  Unrelated, but this dress debate is killing me.  You’ve seen this, right?

tumblr_nkcjuq8Tdr1tnacy1o1_500

I saw this CLEARLY WHITE AND GOLD dress this morning and everyone else I know is saying it’s clearly black and blue so I ask Victor and he said it was black and blue as well and that’s when I decided this was a big practical joke on me.  You win.  Lot of trouble to go through to make me think I’m losing my mind, y’all.

PPS.  WHAT THE FUCKETY FUCK.  I just looked at it again and now it’s black and blue and I can’t understand how I ever thought it was gold and white.  What sort of wizardry is this?

You are the best Godzilla ever.

Hello!

This is a disjointed post as my is family here for an early Christmas since my dad will be manning his taxidermy shop on actual Christmas.  Because nothing says “Happy birthday, Jesus!” like being elbow-deep in a warm deer.

I just want to say such an enormous thank you to everyone who asked for or offered help this week on our 5th Annual James Garfield Miracle Post.  I’ve lost track but my best estimate is that over $75k has already been donated this week to helping kids have at least one Christmas/Hanukkah present, or giving a security blanket, toy and book to a homeless child, or giving a gift through Heifer to help better the world.   Project Night Night and Heifer have both reached out to say that they are seeing a ton of donations come from here, and the comments of people sending toys and receiving them have given me back my Christmas spirit.

My friend , Joe Baden, surprised me with an amazing illustration he made for me this week:

bloggess joe badon

And it’s perfect because at first I thought it was me fighting Godzilla, but then I looked closer and realized it was more like Godzilla and I are on the same team and he’s totally got my back.   As if I was like, “LET’S DO THIS SHIT.  LET’S SAVE CHRISTMAS AND TURN ALL GUNS INTO CHOCOLATE AND MAKE PAJAMAS FOR COLD SLOTHS!”  And Godzilla was all, “Have you been drinking again?  You’re in your pajamas and you’re armed with a blow-dryer.  And it’s not even plugged in.  Jesus, lady.  JUST LET ME HELP YOU.”

That Godzilla is you.

If you’re part of the community.  If you helped.  If sent a word of kindness.  If you donated, or plan to donate in the future.  (Heifer and Project Night Night always need help.)  If you were humble enough to ask for help, or selfless enough to pass on help to others once your needs were met.  No matter what part you played, you are my Godzilla.

Thank you for being my Godzilla.

PS. If you want to leave comments of thanks you can do that here, but if you’re asking for help, or including a link for help please just leave those comments on the original post so we don’t end up with confusion, okay?

PPS.  For those still struggling to make the holiday special for their children, or those who weren’t able to get their present delivered before Christmas here are a few ideas:

Go on youtube and create an entire playlist for them of songs that remind you of them, or that you know they’d love to hear. I made a playlist for Hailey and she listens to it over and over. It’s like the free mixtape of the future.

Get a pinterest account (it’s free), search it for the cool stuff they love, and pin those things to a board you made just for them. Motivational words, art they’d like, meme’s they enjoy, movies they like. I have one for Hailey and she loves to check it out because it’s all about the Star Wars and Night Vale and Doctor Who and funny animals, and it reminds her that I’m thinking of her.  This is a mirror image of it if you want to see how it works.  I keep the real one marked “private” so I don’t have to worry about her seeing comments 10 year olds shouldn’t read.

Go to the library and get a GREAT book you loved at that age. Then turn off everything but a single lamp and read aloud. Even now I love listening to my mom read.

Do art together. Maybe it’s coloring. Maybe it’s doodling. Maybe it’s getting out your phone or camera to take funny photos.

And remember that, no matter what, if your children have your love they are already ahead of the game.

 ******************

And now, the weekly wrap-up of awesomeness:

madebyroundtablecompanies 2

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

Shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-awesome:

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

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by the creators of THE KEGEL BEAR, an adorable children’s book about vaginal exercise.  That sounds weird, but it’s actually quite genius, as outlined in the video and also makes a fabulous baby shower gift.   No bears or vaginas were harmed in the making of this product.  

Your essence is DELICIOUS.

Conversation at an estate sale filled with extremely questionable things:

Me:  I’m pretty sure I need this doll.

It's like "Eyes Without a Face," except just the opposite.

It’s like that song “Eyes Without a Face,” except just the opposite.

Victor:  Nope.  Nope.  Nope.  All of my nopes.

me:  Sir, how much is the doll with no eyeballs?

Estate sale guy: It’s $75.

me: Seems pricey.  But, hang on…does that include all the human souls trapped inside it? Because that might actually be a good value.

Estate sale guy:   It comes with an extra set of doll clothes.

Victor: Does it also come with an exorcism?

Guy:  It’s real old.  They don’t make ’em like that anymore.

Victor: Well, thank God for that.

Victor said I couldn’t bring her home even though I tried to show him how lovely she was:

"Give us a cuddle.  And some blood."

“Give us a cuddle. And some blood.”

Then Victor made me put her down, but when I went in the next room I found another doll and I was like, “I felt sad for a doll with no eyes until I met a doll with no arms”.

This is where I would put a picture of the doll and her missing arms, but I think it cursed my phone because all I can find is a picture of her face:

"Aaahhhh."

“Come closer.  I can smell your marrow from here.”

Victor:  SERIOUSLY?  Did Satan’s grandma live here?

me:  They probably removed her arms to keep her from smothering people during the night.  Now she can only hug you with her teeth.

And then Victor made me leave.

But not before I bought an antique book for a dollar:

I would have thought the list would be longerHonestly, I would have expected it to be longer.

Search terms that make me question what’s going on in your life.

Every so often I look at the things people were searching for on the internet that brought them to this blog.  Then I shake my head at humanity.  Then I copy the least offensive but most baffling searches and share them here with you.  Because I’m a giver.  

What people were searching for on the internet this week that led them here:

  • “How to know I’m not in a coma”
  • “accidental lesbian”
  • “u didn’t have to hang up on me you shuld have told me u dont want me to call you poem”
  • “monkeys kissing people walk on the vagina”  (It feels like there should be a period here, but I’m not sure where.)
  • “Miss Johnson you’re amazing”
  • “I want to eat you down into the belly.”  (Wow.  English is not your first language, is it?  Because this is not a good pick-up line.)
  • “Our cat had 4 babies, now there’s 3. Did it eat baby?”
  • “Naked woman hula hooping”
  • “I don’t know what i just did.  I just peed on my favorite adult cats.”  
  • “Pictures of me naked”  (You’re not doing this internet thing right.)
  • “Tell them other bitches funny songs. I’m the one dumb as a 62 ounce slurpee drink”
  • “tentacle pregnancy egg”
  • “Hire people to beat someone up”
  • “hemorrhaging & puddle of blood”  (Why are you on the internet?  GO TO THE DOCTOR.)
  • “Had nervous breakdown/now my daughter is “taking care” of me/what do I do?”
  • “I just cut five inches off my hair. how do i get my hairs back?”  (Oh, honey.  Bless your stupid heart.)
  • “I will never go back to jail.”
  • “Jenny Lawson is a tall treat.”  (Aw, shucks.)
  • “dig dog up to see how he died”  (I’m guessing he died because you buried him?)
  • “crafty unicorn made out of real hair”
  • “Fuck off.  I’m fabulous.”
  • “Those chimpanzees will be sued”
  • “Is it ok to let my dog eat me?”  (I don’t know what this means…but in any case, no.)
  • “how do you get the dog stop sucking the head eggs and let me have a phone number to call them people?”
  • “that one had hair on it”
  • “Gandalf, you better be at my door” (YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF GANDALF.)
  • “78 year old lady does her own home perms”
  • “How to remove tracker bug from belly button?”  (I think you’re confusing real life with the Matrix again.)
  • “mushroom looks like snowman”
  • “guys sit on a buck of fireworks and pops the butt.”
  • “Something red is poking from my belly button.”  (Is it a tracker bug?)
  • “What will happen if you let a moth in your ear?”  (This is like the insect version of “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie”.)
  • “Why shouldn’t some cats play cards?”
  • “WHERE M I NOW?”  (Based on your search, I’d guess “a bar”.)
  • “do-it-yourself cat costumes for toddlers”
  • “Did nellie oleson eat shit on little house on the prairie?”
  • “can you paint cat’s toenails?”
  • “Can I use butter on my dog?”  
  • “Whatever happened to Lou Diamond Phillips?”
  • “Why does my cat smell my left eye?”
  • “why do blueberry unicorns cross the milk chocolate river when they could just fly to the other side?”
  • “Why is there a really long grey hair coming out of my stomach?
  • “What happens if you can’t dig up St Joseph’s body after your house sells?”
  • “What does it mean when someone says ‘Fuck yeah I like watermelon’?”  
  • “Anyone having nightmares about Morgan Freeman?”
  • “Is it ok with Jesus when I am pretending to pray but I am not?”  (Have you even read these other searches?  YOU’RE FINE.)

I’m insulted in several ways.

I think most cats technically already have great mustaches, but you just can’t tell because we don’t shave the rest of their bodies, and I think that’s probably very sad for them because they can’t show off their dapper kitty facial hair.

Or at least, that was the reason that I gave Victor when he asked me why I kept trying to stick a fake mustache on Hunter S. Thomcat.
huntermoustache

 

 

PS. This is unrelated but I thought I’d share.  You know when websites use algorithms to figure out what you’d be most likely buy and then they put those recommendations on your front page?  Yeah.  So this is what Amazon personally suggested I’d want today:

amazon wtf

What they said:

“Get Yourself a Little Something” 

 

What they’re really saying:

“Hey!  CHECK OUT THIS straight jacket!  Buy some lizard feet!  Treat yourself, ya FREAKY lunatic!”

And I think the most insulting thing here is that I actually am interested in all of those things and now I can’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to wear those Lizard Feet while I’m writing, but I can’t even have them because I’m allergic to latex.  So now I feel bad for wanting them and also bad because it’s like Amazon is taunting me on purpose.

Also, when I went to look at the lizard feet Amazon told me that if I liked those feet then I’d totally want this shirt.

And they were right.  The bastards.

 

 

 

Someone’s gonna need a tetanus shot.

Yesterday we went to a flea market, which is always filled with equal part awesomeness and creepiness and a fair amount of people who maybe shouldn’t be allowed to park their own cars.

But my favorite part of the day was when I came across this box being sold by a very sweet older couple:

Um…what?

Um…what?

It was a little bizarre to find an antique vibrator box, but even more unsettling was that the lady at the booth told me that the contents were still “intact and pristine, considering the age.”  And then I opened the box and found this:

I don't know if this is more or less unsettling.

That’s the pinchiest looking vibrator I’ve ever seen.

And I stared at it and said, “Wow.  We’ve come a long way, I guess?  I mean, I don’t even understand how this would work,” and the woman said, “Well, these are just the attachments to the vibrator, obviously” and I was like “Well, obviously” and then she clarified that they would have been used with older “Domestic Vibrator” and I admitted that I didn’t even know there were commercial models available and she looked at me strangely and then her partner cleared his throat and said “The Domestic Vibrator was a brand of sewing machine in the 1900’s” and the woman looked at her partner like, “Well, of course it was.  Why are you even clarifying this?”   And then I nodded like I’d known this all along.

And I was relieved.

And a little bit disappointed.

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

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

sid

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 Kelly Exeter at A Life Less Frantic. She’s got an awesome new book out called Your Best Year Yet – 7 Simple Ways to Shift Your Thinking and Take Back Control of Your Life and she’s so confident this short and sweet little tome of life-inspiration (Kelly loathes the term self-help) will deliver your best year EVER, she’s even offering a money-back guarantee.  You can check it out here.

I'm huge and/or hated in Germany

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.

I'm huge and/or reviled in Germany

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.

In The Library

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.