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

This week’s wrap-up is sponsored by The Big Book of Dumb White Husband.  If you’re not him, you know him. He’s challenged the grocery store. He’s confronted the HOA. He’s even taken on Santa. He loses—a lot. These are the tales of the Dumb White Husband and they are now available all in one dumb place—the bestselling Big Book of Dumb White Husband by Benjamin Wallace.

2012 Strange Google Searches That Brought People to The Bloggess.com:

“Knock knock, motherfucker” ~  3,308 

“Sasquatch sightings”  ~ 2,086

“This chicken will cut you” ~ 490

“Thanks for ruining batman” ~ 403

“I have no idea what I’m doing” ~ 288

“No one’s going to be able to relate to a corpsey chocolate vampire and his gay bird lover” ~ 99

“Feet must be covered while sleeping” ~ 79

“Hamster erections” ~ 79

“What size shirt should my cat wear?” – 69

“Chupacabra cobra death match” ~ 59

“zombie chicken porn” ~ 49

“What to do if your wife is obsessed with unicorns?” ~ 40

“What size shirt does a 20 lb cat wear?” – 35

“Nathan Fillion shirtless” – 32

“Green poop at Disney World” ~ 31

“Dead whores” ~ 29

“World of Warcraft blow job” ~ 16

“National Vomit Day” ~ 14

“I hate it when I’m eating and a t-rex steals my chair” ~ 14

“Shit that shouldn’t be” ~ 10

“Meth in vagina makes sex better” ~ 5

“hey my name is rebekah what’s yours? i really like baked cheese and bears and such hahahahahahha i can type without looking at my key board” ~ 4

“Unruly vagina hair” – 4

“How did the hamsters even get jet lag?” ~ 3

“Do predators on To Catch a Predator get paid to be on tv?” ~ 1

“One letter is in my name is misspelled on my meds so will they take it at the airport?” ~ 1

“Cute tabby kittens saying misspelled things” ~ 1

“Nazi outfit on a weasel” ~ 1

“Raccoon albino with mange” ~ 1

“Raccoon albino without mange” ~ 1

“Cheese is funner”  ~ 1

“Would a picture of fork tines sticking out someones butt be considered art?” ~ 1

“Anteaters dressed like people” ~ 1

“bunnies aren’t just cute like every body supposes, they got them hoppy tails and twitchy little noses, and whats with all the carrots, what do they need such good eye sight for any way, bunnies, bunnies it must be bunnies” ~ 1

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In unrelated news, it’s time for the weekly wrap up.

This week’s wrap-up is sponsored by the lovely Masala Chica.  From the author: “In Hindi, the word “Masala” means spice. I originally wrote a lot about growing up Indian American but most of the posts I write are universal, so the whole “Masala” thing doesn’t make as much sense. But I still like it. I write about family, politics, feminism, music, books and I bitch about a lot of random things. Disclaimer: I like gay people, immigrants and the homeless. Be forewarned.”

It was awesome.  Thank you, London.

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But not really because I had too much caffeine and can’t stop writing.  So instead I’ll share a bunch of shit I wrote that wasn’t funny enough to publish alone, in hopes that it gets funnier algebraically.

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True story:  I get these emails from Amazon recommending local stuff they think I’d be into.  In the last week I’ve been offered special deals on Beekeeping Classes, Handgun Practice, Permanent Makeup and Reflexology/Zip Line…which just sounds dangerous. I can’t tell if they really know me, or if they really don’t know me at all.

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Yesterday this thing happened to me that so blew my mind that I freaked out and called everyone I knew to tell them about it but then it turns out that I can’t write about because (swear to God) it might endanger the well-being of The Doctor and myself.  I have never in my entire life wanted to write about anything so much and it’s killing me inside.  I don’t have anything funny to add here but just pretend that I just proved without a shadow of a doubt that a possible real-life Time Lord and I spent some quality time together talking about testicles and I have pictures to prove it that I can never show.  And this is exactly why being a companion must be so bloody hard.

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My friend Edwin sent me this tweet:

Hmmm.

And I thought it was weird that he would send me something so rude that twitter would actually hide the image from me, but I went ahead and changed my settings to let even the most horrific images come through and then I clicked it again.

Oh. Awesome.

Thanks, twitter.

Me too.

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In unrelated news, it’s time for the weekly wrap up.

This week’s wrap-up sponsored by ebook publisher Open Road Media and their Fright-Free Halloween campaign, promoting family-friendly fall cooking, craft ebooks and Halloween-themed children’s stories that take the scary out of Halloween for kids.  Check out  The Berenstain Bears Get the Scardies ebook.  It’s like The Shining, but with bears and no corpses.

(I guess in this case “multitude” equals “3″.)

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In unrelated news, it’s time for the weekly wrap up.

What you missed on Ill-Advised:

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

• Ginja shirt
• I poisoned something in the fridge.

What you missed on the internets:

We’ve got tonight and tomorrow to finish up the BloggessBookClub and tonight we’re going on through chapter 22 (I Am the Wizard of Oz of Housewives {In That I Am Both “Great and Terrible” and Because I Sometimes Hide Behind the Curtains}) and I’ll be doing a reading if I don’t get to nervous and sweaty.

Also, a few people suggested that if you think the phrase “Lawsbians” is too much for you then you could drop the “b” but then it’s just “Lawsians”, which just sounds a lot like “lozenge”.  I’m not a big fan over everyone calling themselves Lozenges but it’s up to you.  That’s the beauty of living in a democratic society.  You get to name yourself after cough drops if you want.

If you want in again for tonight just check my twitter stream at 7p central and I’ll give you the link.

See you tonight?  Pretty please?

PS.  I had several people who asked if they could see my office.  And yes!  You totally can.  It’s not normally this clean.  Also, turnabout is fair play so if you want to share links to pics of your desk in the comments that would be awesome.  If it was dirty it would make me feel much better about myself.  Just saying.

pics by Maile Wilson

“I mean, I don’t want to finger the guy who sold me all those drugs.”

“That?  Oh, that was me pretending to be attacked by a Sasquatch.”

“I’m on a LOT of cold medication.”

“Unless you came out of my birth canal and lady garden you don’t get to call me ‘mommy’.”

“When do we start?  Shit.  We’ve already started, haven’t we?”

“No, the weasel was already dead when I opened it.”

“So then I was stuck in the cow’s..uh…can I say “vagina” if I’m referring to a cow’s vagina?”

“I did a lot of clown porn stuff.  Victor wasn’t pleased.  He hates clowns.”

“They really shouldn’t let me on live radio.”

I also did a Skype reading wearing a strapless dress and it looked like I was naked and I didn’t notice it until someone else posted a picture of me.

Dear me: Perhaps you should avoid tube tops on Skype. And just...you know...in general.

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In unrelated news, I’m doing the weekly wrap-up early because we’re taking Hailey to DisneyWorld this weekend to make me feel like a less terrible mother since I’ve been gone on tour so much.

So now, 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.):

• It’s a shirt AND an apology.

What you missed on the internets:

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My editor couldn’t decide between a bottle of wine or a hat made from actual roadkill as a book pub date gift.  I think she made the right choice:

His feet make excellent ear muffs.

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I think I’m at a fancy hotel because I can’t tell what’s in the bottles.  At no point on this bottle does it say that it’s lotion.  I’m pretty sure “emotion body milk” is semen.  I have an entire bottle of free semen and I have no idea what to do with it.

I still took it home.

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Same hotel.  I want a cheeseburger so I call for room service.  They reply, “Did you mean Womb Service?”  No.  No, I certainly did not and I can’t imagine enough people are making this mistake to make it worthy of that follow up question.

Also, yes, of course I have pictures:

For when you need a cheeseburger. In your birth canal.

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One of these is toothpaste.  The other is clearasil.

They do not taste the same.  Ask me how I know.

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I went to a tv interview but they neglected to tell me that it was live TV in Hollywood before a studio audience and so I was sort of petrified.  But then I took all my anti-anxiety drugs and I felt better (and woozie) until I stepped into the makeup room and there was a brunette in curlers with black glasses and I was all “Bitch stole my look” and then she said “Excuse me?” and I tried to explain myself but I was too mumbly to makes sense and then she took her hair out of the curlers AND IT WAS LISA LOEB.

Lisa Loeb isn't in this picture because I ran away from her as soon as I possibly could because I'd been mortified enough. She was very nice though.

I signed several boobs and one moob and some dead frogs.  I’ll sign anything.

No, really. Anything.

People brought me awesome, bizarre things.  Including a Tupperware bowl with an edible version of the dead mouse on the cover of my book:

No shit, y'all.

It tasted adorable.  And suspicious.  I was very hungry.

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I spoke in a quavering voice between a variety of dumpsters.

Dumpsters not shown.

And people laughed.

That empty seat was reserved for Nathan Fillion. Just in case.

And it was good.

More to come (including new tour dates!)…

Also, it comes with my very own geek card made by Len and Storm.

PS. That’s a sonic-screwdriver-blow-dryer. Not a sex toy.

PPS.  Here’s our podcast if you want to give it a listen.

…Yet.

Pics by Maile Wilson.

Laura:  So you didn’t buy the taxidermied marmot?  Were you drunk?

me:  Of course not.  I was just socially drinking.  Not drunk drinking.

Laura:  Drunk drinking?

me:  Drunk drinking = drinking to get drunk.  Which I don’t do.

Laura:  Drunk drinking.

me:  Or “drunking”, if you prefer.  It’s shorter and probably more likely what you’d call it if you actually were out drunking.

Laura: Got it.  Now I kind of want to go drunking.

me: And that’s why words are dangerous.

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It’s time for the weekly wrap-up.  Let’s get started, shall we? 

What you missed on my parenting blog on the Houston Chronicle:

• Wookie Arts & Crafts 

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

• Unicorn Success Club Mousepad
• Out drunking.

What you missed on the internets:

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by my newfangled friends at CoffeeTable, a (free!) iPad app that wants to be your bff and take you shopping—from the comfort of your very own couch / loveseat / pouf. Oh you want your favorite catalogs and exclusive sales and to buy your goodies in just two taps and a magical unicorn? It’s all here (maybe except the unicorn).  YOU’RE WELCOME.

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.

me: You know that song that goes:  ”Just like the wild wind blows, she sings a song that sounds like she’s singing“?

Victor: Edge of Seventeen.  But that’s not how that song goes.

me:  I figured, because it makes no sense.  Why would she be singing a song that “sounds like she’s singing”?  Either you’re singing or you’re not singing.  MAKE UP YOUR MIND.

Victor: No, that part’s right.  But “the wild wind blows” is actually “a white winged dove”.

me:  Ugh.  That’s the part that I’m wrong about?  What about “I went searching for an answer up the stairs and down the hall, and not to find the answer.”  You just said you were searching for an answer and then in the same sentence you contradict yourself.  It’s so confusing.  It’s like Nikki Sixx is trying to confuse me.

Victor:  Are you kidding me?  It’s not Nikki Sixx.  It’s Stevie Nicks.

me:  I always think they’re the same person.

Victor:  And that’s why you’re not allowed to talk about music anymore.

…..

And since it’s (almost) Sunday it’s time for the weekly wrap-up:

By @onezumi: "The Bloggess Riding a Dapper Octopus with an Attack King Mini Yak Riding him Attacking an Evil Flying Cheeseburger While Holding Twine."

What you missed on the Houston Chronicle:

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

• Because everyone needs a tiny Shakespearean mouse for their desk.
• Use your ivagination.
• James Garfield Statue

What you missed on the internets:

me:  Does Hailey’s cup say “Vagina” on it?

Victor:  Um.  What?

me:  Vagina.  It looks like Hailey’s cup says “vagina” on it.

Victor:  It doesn’t.  Like, at all.

me:  Well, I figured.  But it looks like it.

Victor:  No.  No, it doesn’t.

me:  Hang on.  Let me take a picture from my angle.

Victor:  Wow.  That...totally looks like it says “vagina”.

me:  Exactly.

PS.  It actually says “Imagination”.  Something I needed very little of to find a vagina in that cup.

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In non-related news, it’s time for the weekly wrap-up.  Let’s get started, shall we?

What you missed on the Houston Chronicle:

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

• I honestly thought that was what it meant for several years.
• Juanita in an apron on an apron.

What you missed on the internets: