Category Archives: weekly reruns

Happy Father (Figure) Day!

Today is Father’s Day and that can be complicated for people because fathers are complicated people.  I’m very lucky to have a wonderful father (and that Hailey does as well) but for a lot of people this day can be hard or bittersweet or lonely or just plain uncomfortable.  So if you are feeling too much today then I encourage you to change the day up.  Go out and honor father figures in your life.  Maybe they’re friends who’ve been there for you, or people you’ve seen care for others in inspiring ways or even heroes you’ve never even met but who helped to make you who you are.  Honor the things you’ve done to help others grow and become better people.  Sometimes the best fathers aren’t even fathers at all.

And that’s sort of amazing.

Thank you to all who inspire, whether you are a father or not.

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And on an entirely different subject, it’s time for the Sunday 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 WHO GIVES A CRAP.  No, really. Do you have the kind of bottom that deserves the best? Of course you do. That’s why you should start wiping with Who Gives  A Crap, this week’s wrap up sponsor. They make super soft toilet paper, that just so happens to do good too. They donate 50% of profits to help build toilets for the 2.3 billion people living without one and all of their products are made without trees. Good for the world, great for your bum. Click here and use the discount code BLOGGESS to get $10 off your first purchase.

Happy birthday to you! Yes, you.

Happy birthday!

Is it your birthday?  I KNOW BECAUSE I AM PSYCHIC.

Is it not your birthday?  Yes it is.  You are wrong.  Because I SUCK at remembering birthdays and have even forgotten my own so I decided that today is everyone’s birthday.  If you want to go up a year you are a year older.  If you want to go down 10 years that’s fine too.  These are the rules of Universal Birthday Day.

And what do you get for your birthday?  You get something lovely and it’s entirely up to you what that thing is.  Go take a hot bath and listen to true crime podcasts.  Go buy a bunch of facial masks and oils and give yourself a spa day.  Go buy that thing you’ve been wanting but haven’t been able to justify.  Sit in the grass and read an amazing book.  Binge-watch Doctor Who.  Go to the movies.  Call the person who makes you laugh.  Forgive yourself for that thing you’ve been feeling bad about.  Dress your pets up in costumes and have a small parade.  Snuggle with rescue animals at a no-kill shelter.  Have a pillow fight.  Learn a new hobby.  Eat an ice cream cake.  Go to the library.  Pull out the slip-and-slide.  Have a whipped cream fight.  Take a nap with your pets.  DO WHATEVER YOU WANT BECAUSE IT IS YOUR BIRTHDAY!

And that means it’s my birthday too so I am going to finish this post and then give away presents because that makes me happy.  So leave me a comment telling me what wonderful thing you’re going to do for yourself for your birthday and I’ll randomly email some of you gift certificates for books or bath bombs or whatever strange thing makes your heart sing.

Happy birthday, y’all.

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And on an entirely different subject, it’s time for the Sunday 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 StoryWorth Bookswhich I’m actually a huge fan of and have bought for both of my parents.  From them: Still looking for a meaningful Father’s Day gift? StoryWorth is the perfect last minute gift. Each week, we’ll email him a question about his life – asking him about his favorite memory of his grandparents, or whether he’s ever pulled any great pranks. All he has to do is reply with a story, which is forwarded to you and any other family members you invite. At the end of the year, his stories are bound in a beautiful keepsake book your family will cherish!”  You should check it out here.

For real though, someone get to work on those fruit roll-up sleeves.

Victor asked if I’d go with him to a party where I know no one and I laughed but turns out he was serious and I felt really bad for him but I don’t even go to parties that are for me but he really wanted to go so I told him I’d go but only if I could wear a t-shirt I made that says “HERE COMES HEPATITIS” on the front so people would avoid me and he was against that because I guess he has something against hepatitis and I do too because hepatitis killed my grandmother but that’s exactly why I made the shirt.

And also if people do talk to me I have an automatic conversation starter about the importance of hand-washing and clean needles and not inviting me to parties.  And Victor said that I couldn’t wear the shirt because I don’t have hepatitis but I think that’s short-sighted because tons of people have hepatitis and don’t know it and I just finished tuberculosis treatment so it seems like hepatitis is the next logical step with my luck.  Victor says faking hepatitis is not really acceptable at parties and I get that but “HERE COMES CRIPPLING INTROVERSION” seems like it would just attract others like me who would be like, “OMG ME TOO” and that would be a relief for a half-second but then we’d be all stuck together and none of us can carry on a proper conversation without blurting out inappropriate nonsense and we’d all rather be home anyway.  Honestly, the only thing that would make it okay is if the shirt had a kangaroo pocket you could stick a kitten in and when it got weird we just pull out our kittens and relax because we could just talk to the kitten instead of each other.  Someone invent that.

(Also it needs a hidden flask in the boob section and sleeves that are made of fruit rolls-ups so I can eat them in case I get too hot and/or peckish.)

PS. Victor just read this post and agrees that I should not go to the party. Whoop!  This blog is better than hepatitis.

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And on an entirely different subject, it’s time for the Sunday 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 StoryWorth Bookswhich I’m actually a huge fan of and have bought for both of my parents.  From them: Still looking for a meaningful Father’s Day gift? StoryWorth is the perfect last minute gift. Each week, we’ll email him a question about his life – asking him about his favorite memory of his grandparents, or whether he’s ever pulled any great pranks. All he has to do is reply with a story, which is forwarded to you and any other family members you invite. At the end of the year, his stories are bound in a beautiful keepsake book your family will cherish!”  You should check it out here.

You like me. Even when I don’t like myself.

This weekend I was at the 10th annual Mom 2.0 Summit and (as usual) it was wonderful and filled with fantastic people and also terrifying anxiety attacks.  I spent a lot of time hiding in my room but I did speak with these wonderful women about Imposter Syndrome.

Laura Mayes, Katherine Center, Karen Walrond and me. I’ve loved them for more than 10 years and we have never stabbed each other. Squad goals.

And I had a panic attack before the panel and small anxiety attacks during it and I babbled and I brought a sack of hair to wear because I get sweaty when I’m scared and my hair is too thin so I needed more hair to soak up the sweat so I wore a fake hair head band but then defeated the whole purpose of having fake hair by pulling it off numerous times in the panel to show how it works and I doubted everything I said and I felt like a fraud even being up there but that really just proves how well-suited I was to the topic.

Then I hated myself for a bit in my room until it was time to go to the Iris Awards but I didn’t have anyone there who could zip me up so I had to wander the halls holding my dress up in front of me until a friend took pity on me.  But then I won an award for most entertaining content!  And I was utterly unprepared as I’d spent the day feeling terrible about myself so when I got onstage I cried a little and I couldn’t think of what to say so I used the moment to apologize to the women whose boob I’d accidentally grabbed a few minutes earlier when I was pointing behind me and her boob walked into my hand and I yelled “This one’s for you, lady!” as I thrust my trophy into the air.  And then I stole a bottle of champagne and went back to my room to stop shaking but there wasn’t anyone there to unzip me so I tried to pull the dress off over my head and it got stuck on my boobs and I couldn’t breathe and I thought it would be totally like me to die with my dress over my head, suffocated by my own front-meat and then I panicked and hulked out and ripped the zipper entirely.  So, if I have a brand I definitely stuck to it fully.

(Picture by the always wonderful Wendi Aarons.)

And the next morning in the airport I thought that maybe this award is a sign that I need to stop feeling so terrible about myself and maybe have a little more confidence and stop listening to my self-loathing brain, and then they called for my group number and I stood up quickly but my purse strap was caught on the chair handle and so it slammed me back into my seat so violently I involuntarily farted and everyone stared at me because it looked like I’d been tackled by a ghost. And after my breath came back I just loudly said, “Wrong group number” so they’d look away.  And as I sat there and pretended that I was in the next group I thought that maybe being body-checked by my own purse was probably a sign too because honestly you can’t fix Imposter Syndrome by just winning an award and it was as if the universe was like, “Take a seat, lady.  Literally.  Because you’re still totally fucking broken.”

And I am, but also I’m okay.  I’m both.  And that’s what makes me me.

PS.  Thank you for believing in me when I don’t believe in myself.  You don’t know how may times you’ve saved me…from me.

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And on an entirely different subject, it’s time for the Sunday 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 StoryWorth.  “This year, give Mom a StoryWorth Book to preserve her stories. Each week, we’ll email her a question about her life – asking her to recount her favorite memory of her grandparents, the best advice she ever got, etc. All she has to do is reply with a story, which is forwarded to you and any other family members you invite. At the end of the year, her stories are bound in a beautiful keepsake book your family will cherish!”  I did this for my dad last year and it’s been fantastic to read all of his stories that might have been lost otherwise.  I highly recommend it and its super on sale now.

 

 

Bloggess Book Club

You know how everyday I share the weirdest thing Amazon recommended to me on twitter?  Well yesterday it was a choose-your-own-adventure book called YOU ARE A KITTEN! where you’re a kitten named Holden Catfield who grows so large you crush the earth.  But then Amazon was like, “Hang on…if you liked YOU ARE A KITTEN! then you’ll love OCEAN OF LARD, a choose-your-own-mindfuck book that could not possibly be safe for work.  And then Amazon was like, “BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE” because then it told me I should “look inside The Haunted Vagina” and that seemed like dubious advice but I totally did it because how often do you get that sort of an offer?  Answer: Three times so far.

But then I totally bought it because HOW COULD I NOT and now Amazon is like, “I TOLD YOU SO.  Hey, how about these?”

And that’s why I’m totally started a book club because then these books will be a business expense and I can put it on my business card and Victor won’t wake up and yell, “WHY IS THERE A HAUNTED VAGINA ON THE CREDIT CARD?  I’m cutting off your computer access after 10 pm.”

First book of the Bloggess Book Club: The Haunted Vagina.

The first rule of Bloggess Book Club is that there are no rules because I like chaos.  Come back here when you’ve read the book and we’ll discuss it in the comments.  Or just pretend you’ve read the book and drink a lot, which is how the best book clubs go.  I think.  I’ve never actually been invited to be in one before.  Feel free to add your own rules as you go.

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And on an entirely different subject this isn’t Sunday but I’m doing a Sunday wrap-up because I don’t know how calendars work.  So pretend it’s Sunday.  Take your pants off.  The usual.

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 StoryWorth.  “This year, give Mom a StoryWorth Book to preserve her stories. Each week, we’ll email her a question about her life – asking her to recount her favorite memory of her grandparents, the best advice she ever got, etc. All she has to do is reply with a story, which is forwarded to you and any other family members you invite. At the end of the year, her stories are bound in a beautiful keepsake book your family will cherish!”  I actually did this for my dad last year and it’s been fantastic to read all of his stories that might have been lost otherwise.  I highly recommend it and its super on sale now.

 

 

Scariest movie ever.

Today is Monday but it’s Sunday here because I was in Vegas (more on that later) so I missed the Sunday wrap-up so congratulations – it’s Sunday again!  Go home and binge watch something.

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I took H to see The Quiet Place because she doesn’t get scared at scary movies and I thought maybe it would be different if we saw one at the theater instead of at home.   She grabbed my hand once but she totally wasn’t the level of freaked-the-fuck-out that I was when I saw scary movies when I was a kid, which makes me a little sad because I LUUURV horror and she appreciates it but isn’t too impressed over all.  She seen The Shining, Babadook, Ouijia, IT…and she thought they were all okay but none of them scared her.  She doesn’t have nightmares.  WTF.

Is my kid broken?  Or are kids just less scared by stuff now?  I remember watching The Shining when I was her again on a tiny staticky tv through my fingers and I still get freaked out at the “Danny’s not here anymore” part.  At this point I’m thinking of getting out The Ring because that’s the scariest movie I ever saw but I’m open for suggestions.

What’s the scariest movie you ever saw in your life?

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And on an entirely different subject…

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

  • Mugs are half off today if you use the ZSPRINGDEALS code.  Get yourself a Beyonce to drink with, y’all.  Possibly it would be better as a shot glass but technically a mug holds more vodka and is less obvious during business meetings.  

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

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Leslie Handler’s new book, Rats, Mice and Other Things You Can’t Take to the Bank. You should check it out, partly because Leslie was incredibly understanding about Monday being Sunday but also because it’s a great book.  AND because all author profits are being donated to the National Alliance on Mental Health (NAMI) so by buying the book or donating here you’ll be helping end the stigma against mental illness.  It is clever and kooky and you should check her out right now because she’s good people.  

I need a lot of pills.

So I saw this online and Hailey looked at it and said, “I’d take #9 three times because then I could use my billion dollars to get most of the other things” and I question her math skills but gave her points for creativity and I was like, “Wouldn’t you pick #6 so Ferris Mewler lives forever?” and she looked at Ferris and said, “WHO WANTS TO GET CLONED? You do, right, buddy? GIVE ME YOUR DNA AND LIVE FOREVER.”  It’s unsettling and also kind of impressive.

Personally I’d chose 1, 2 and 9 and one of the skills I’d master is making all of the other pills.

Your turn.

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And on an entirely different subject…

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 Kira Lynne’s Aches, Pains, and Love.  Are you living with chronic pain or illness, or both? Have you given up on having an intimate, romantic relationship? Kira Lynne’s new book reveals that you can have lasting love and companionship when you live with chronic pain and illness. Both entertaining and practical, Aches, Pains, and Love provides a step-by-step guide to getting the love you want, regardless of your physical condition. Available on Amazon and other outlets.

Stephen Colbert stole my giant baby

So last week I wrote about a free 14-foot-tall-baby on craigslist and I was totally in but then I realized that I had to go to New York to pick up the baby in person and Victor won’t even let me eat donuts in his truck so I was pretty sure that he’d be pissed if I strapped a baby to the roof.

.

But then a ton of people were like, “Let’s break this down into a tiny routes and pass this baby on like a goddam Olympic Torch until it gets to your house” and I was totally in but before that could happen this came across my twitter feed last night:

WTF, STEPHEN COLBERT.

Long story short, I think a dingo took my baby.

And that dingo?  Was Stephen Colbert.  

The same Stephen Colbert who accidentally stole a joke from me 6 years ago although maybe I accidentally stole it from him earlier because I guess we share the same brain and also the exact same wonky ear.

Conclusion: I think Stephen Colbert is my long lost father, which means that this 14 foot giant baby I was trying to adopt is now my brother.  Family is weird, y’all.

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And on an entirely different subject…

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 Operation Delta Dog. Each year, more than 75,000 dogs wind up homeless in Massachusetts and New Hampshire alone. Operation Delta Dog is a a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization committed to solving both of these problems. The mission is simple: rescue shelter dogs and train them to be service dogs for veterans with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), and related challenges. If you are a veteran within Operation Delta Dog’s service area, you can apply for assistance here. And if you’d like to help the organization continue to be able to provide dogs totally free of charge to veterans, you can help by contributing here. You can also follow along on Facebook for cute dog pictures!  They are awesome and you should check them out.

It’s the little things, y’all.

I was in the bathroom at the movies when someone let out the longest and loudest public fart I’ve ever heard in my life, and everyone went quiet for a second in that way where you couldn’t tell if they were more impressed or concerned and then a small child who sounded maybe three excitedly squealed, “OH MY GOODNESS MAMA. SOMEONE TOOTED SO LOUD!” in the same tone you’d use if you’d just seen Santa Claus and then she laughed so gleefully and her mom was like, “Samantha, don’t laugh” but you could tell that the mom was trying not to laugh too because this kids belly-laugh giggles were unstoppable and contagious and suddenly all of the women in their stalls started laughing and for the first time in my life I felt bad that it wasn’t me that farted, because I have never before witnessed a fart that gave so many such joy.

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And on an entirely different subject…

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 HotHouse Intimates, a company that curates monthly subscription boxes filled with adult products for all experience levels.  Bonus: The site is designed with a mainstream audience in mind so you don’t have to worry about hiding your phone when viewing it, and it makes a fabulous Valentine’s Day gift.  Bloggess followers get 30% off their first box with discount code: BLOGGESSBOX, which I’m not sure is a euphemism but probably is.  Check them out here.

I don’t drink babies.

So I was in the drug store waiting for a prescription when this woman asked me, “You drink the baby?”  And I was like, “I don’t drink babies,” but I didn’t say that out loud because it seemed like English wasn’t her first language and I was probably misunderstanding her, but then she repeated herself and I was forced to tell a stranger that I don’t personally drink babies.

But then she held up this package that had a lady enthusiastically sipping on a baby through a crazy straw and I was like, “Well.  Now I understand your confusion.”

Well that’s…something.

And so I told her, “I think maybe it’s just for sucking the snot out of sick babies?” and she looked appalled and said, “You just want to suck out their snot?” and I was like, “Lady, I don’t want to suck anything out of babies.  I don’t even siphon gas from other cars,” and she looked even more confused and the pharmacist looked over at us and I was overdosing on awkward so I ran away and that’s why I need someone else to go pick up my pills for me, and it’s exactly why I don’t like to leave the house.

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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 Liz, who failed out of seminary for using the word “fuck” too much, and the word “God” way too little.  And for writing “pigeon-rat” in the margins of her sermons, even though she had a really, really good reason.  If you are craving the spirituality of religion, but with fabulous vagina parables, check out LizJamesWrites.com.  There, you will also find the ABSOLUTE. GREATEST. CHRISTMAS DILDO STORY.  OF ALL. TIME.