Category Archives: blogging about blogging again

Fun with Len

My friend Len does a Geek-a-Week project which is pretty bad-ass, and I was flattered to be asked to do one so here it is if you have a few minutes.

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.

I’m not a tightrope walker. Yet.

I don’t have anything to say here today but I wrote a post over on Oprah.com about not being a tightrope walker.

…Yet.

Pics by Maile Wilson.

Out drunking

Conversation with my friend Laura:

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.

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

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:

What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “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 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.

EVERYBODY WINS

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.
Print Beyonce the Chicken

I can’t be the only one who fucks up lyrics this badly.

Conversation I had with Victor in the car:

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.):

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 sponsored by my hilarious friend, Jill, better known as Scary Mommy.  Her blog is fabulous and she now has a great book coming out that’s an honest (and terrifying) look at parenting.  She and her book are better than ice cream.  Check them out.

I have a problem

Conversation I had with Victor while Hailey was playing on the playground.

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.

*********

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.):

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 sponsored by posh brood, a free catalogue of upscale, luxe and hop vacation spots that are mom-tested.  Their slogan is “Offspring.  Don’t leave home without them.”  Which is a good mantra since it’s illegal to leave your baby at home alone, even if there are cats there with them.  Trust me on this one.  Anyway, you should check them out because they’re awesome and they’ll keep you from getting arrested.  Plus you need a vacation.

UPDATED: Those are fighting words, internet

A few times I year I checkout Alexa to see what’s bringing people to this blog.

This is what I found today:

 Really, internet?  That is both terrifically insulting and also just plain wrong.

You spell my name with two G’s.

 

Updated:  It occurs to me that many of you are new and might not understand why people would even be searching for that.  No worries.  There’s a simple, rational answer to all of this, really.  It’s because I used to be on meth.  The good kind.

UPDATED X 2:  I just noticed that this month there’s been a fairly significant decrease in people googling “douche bag” and then being pointed to my blog.

WINNER.

Juanita in carbonite

Earlier this week I told you about a tiny, dead weasel I dressed, adopted and named Juanita.  Within a few days she had her very own meme and a line of products.  Kinda fucking impressive for a dead weasel, if you ask me.  And possibly a little cocky.  Regardless, she brought joy and laughter to many, and several of you will be getting emails about free Juanita junk because you entered something bad-ass into the meme contest, but the ultimate winner was a personal favorite of mine from Bart Smith:

Look closely. There are 15+ bloggess-isms here. (It's bigger on the inside.)

For being awesome and amazing at photoshop (seriously, click here for a giant version), Bart wins a tiny, resin Juanita statue, which looks as if Juanita was frozen in carbonate, but more colorful.

Juan-ita Solo

(Click here to pick up one for yourself.)

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

What you missed on Ill-Advised:

What you missed on my satirical sex column:  (Moderately safe for work if your boss isn’t a complete douche-canoe.)

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.):

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 my amazingly talented friend Sylvia, who wrote a fabulous ebook that costs less than a coke.  It’s called Fear of Landing: You Fly Like a Woman and it’s her true story about learning to fly after being told by a man that she can’t.  The perfect inspirational gift for your daughter (or son).  Plus, it’s less than a dollar and only takes an hour or two to finish.  EVERYONE WINS.  I highly recommend.

Advanced cooking lessons

Conversation I had after wandering into Victor’s office.

me:  Hey.  How do you make hot water?

Victor:  …Really?  “How do you make hot water?”  Are you fucking with me?  

me:  No.  I want to make a tea but I don’t know how.

Victor:  Go write this on your blog right now.  You just asked me how to heat up water.  You basically just confirmed everything I’ve ever said about your cooking skills in a single sentence.

me:  I know how to get hot water.  I know how the tap works.  I just don’t know how to use the coffee maker and I thought maybe it would be easier to use it than using the microwave.

Victor:  So you need a machine to make you hot water…because the microwave is too complicated?

me:  I’m trying to work smarter, not harder.  DON’T JUDGE ME.

Victor:  It’s moments like this I wish I was on twitter.  “Overheard at our house: ‘How do you make hot water?‘”

me:  FINE.  How about this?  Can you show me how to make coffee without any coffee in it?

Victor:  See, that sounds more complicated.  Not normal or rational, but less ridiculous.  So, yes, I will show you how to make coffee with no coffee in it.

me:  So basically you’re only helping me now because of semantics.

Victor:  How else will you learn?

PS.  Victor says tomorrow he’s going to teach me how to make “hot dog water”.

Victor is a very helpful kind of asshole.

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

And now, the weekly wrap-up:

What you missed on Ill-Advised:

What you missed on my satirical sex column:  (Moderately safe for work if your boss isn’t a complete douche-canoe.)

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.):

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 sponsored by my friend Leonie who created The Goddess Guidebook to help you create your own Goddess Year in 2012 using art therapy  and the tools and techniques she’s providing.  She’s adorable and full of light and is a terrible driver.  Or possibly the person in the other seat is a terrible driver.  One of those.  You should check her out.

I’m sort of freaking out right now.

You guys?  Guess what just arrived?

Holy crap, you guys. My name is on a book and I didn't even have to write it on with a sharpie.

These are the advanced, soft-cover, uncorrected, typo-riddled pre-copies but it doesn’t matter because they’re MY advanced, soft-cover,uncorrected, typo-riddled pre-copies.  And tonight I will curl up with my own book, complete with chapters entitled: “Jenkins, You Motherfucker,” “If You Need an Arm Condom It Might Be Time to Reevaluate Some of Your Life Choices,” Draw Me A Fucking Dog,” “And That’s Why Neil Patrick Harris Would Be the Most Successful Serial Killer Ever” and “It Wasn’t Even My Crack.”   The real book comes out in a couple of months and I just wanted to say thank you, because I couldn’t have done it without you.  Those aren’t just empty words.  I’m too dangerous for advertisers so most of the ads on this blog are from other bloggers who supported my need to write full-time.  Whenever I felt like I’d never finish this 10+ year journey to write my life story your comments kept me believing in myself.  When I was desperate for just the right word you were there on twitter to say “gumption” and “borborygmus” and “sump-pump”.  Getting the book quotes, finding an agent…every single part of this has its origins in social media.  This book was a group effort of so many of you who helped me finish it.  Which means that if you ever left a kind comment, or replied on twitter, or offered to let me read a chapter to you at 3am because I felt like a giant panicky loser then you wrote this book too.  Congratulations.  We’re authors, y’all.

(If you want to pre-order the book that you just wrote with me you can do that here.  It seems weird to pay for your own book, but I can assure you that I’ve pre ordered 5 copies myself at full price.  Mostly because I don’t know how to negotiate with publishers and I’m a terrible shoplifter.)

Also, I’m working on doing a little something special for everyone who has helped in some way, but it’s a bit overwhelming.  I’m in New York next week recording my audio-book {for the love of God, at least one person buy it} so maybe I’ll come up with the perfect thing there.  Something to say thank you, like a kick-ass bookmark.  Or something I can afford, like a handful of dirt.

But for now…let’s move on to this week’s wrap-up:

What you missed on Ill-Advised:

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.):

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 sponsored by Joey Z’sMeatballs, which is a restaurant that doesn’t exist yet. But it will, if you help open it. Donate on Kickstarter to see it come to fruition. By the way, if this does come into existence I’ve been assured that there will be a Bloggess pizza sandwich WITH EDIBLE GLITTER ON IT.  FOR REAL. This must happen, you guys.