Category Archives: weekly reruns

Questions that haunt me. Show your work.

This week has been full of angst and weirdness and deep questions that keep us up too late at night and I’m not smart enough to debate them now, so instead  I’m asking you for help in answering an important question that’s been haunting me since I first started arguing with Victor about it in the 90’s:

bloggesspopsicle

I’m not going to tell you what I think because Victor says it’s creating a bias in the poll results, but I will tell you that I would never eat “eight popsicles in a row” because that would be insane, but eating four popsicles on a hot day is a completely reasonable and healthy response.  Okay…your turn:

 

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And now, time for the weekly wrap-up:

shit i did


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

Shit that I’m vaguely involved with on the internets:

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

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

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Love On El Camino, a fascinating blog which follows Shannon and Eric, as they hike 600 miles thru France and Spain on El Camino de Santiago de Compostela. Even though they are on this journey together, they are driven by different purposes. You can follow along on their pilgrimage, as they write vulnerably, sharing the good, the bad, and the ugly. The kicker is that they aren’t reading what the other one writes until the week before their wedding in October. Until then, only you, as the reader, will know both sides of the story.  You should check it out here.

Five pounds of delicious, floating cheese.

Conversation between me and Victor:

me:  Which weighs more? Five pounds of cheese, or five pounds of helium?

Victor: Is this a trick question?

me:  No, I’ve been thinking about this for hours.  Helium floats so does that mean you could you only make it weigh more if you added more helium?  Or would it weigh less because it’s more?

Victor:  I’d guess that five pounds of helium would be heavier than five pounds of cheese because you’d have to put the five pounds of helium in something to contain it and the container would add fractionally more weight.

me:  Maybe.  But maybe helium would weigh less than cheese because helium floats but it could still be measured in PSI.  Like, you could have five pounds per square inch pressure of helium which doesn’t actually weigh anything on a scale.

 Victor:  My head hurts.

me:  That’s some deep chicken-and-egg shit there, dude.

Okay…your turn.

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And now, time for the weekly wrap-up:

shitidid


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

Shit that I’m vaguely involved with on the internets:

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

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

  • Taxidermied unicorn.  If it was full-sized I would totally buy it.
  • Life-sized weeping angel.  I suggest buying it and hiding it behind doors in the bathroom so when people pee on themselves it’ll be easier to clean up.

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by the lovely Melany of Melany’s Guydlines.  All snark, all true. Nine lives worth of short stories, advice and raw judgement on friendships, relationships, products and everything in between.  From Melany: “Nothing is off limits.  These stories could only happen to me.  I will make you laugh and shake your head.  Are you ready?”  Check her out here.

ANGRY POLLS (Volume II)

Last week thousands of you voted in my first ever ANGRY POLL where I asked you help settle an argument Victor and I were having.  The question was “Does eating powered sugar donuts make your mouth feel cold?

The results:

  • “Of course.  That’s just science.” = 26%
  • “Of course not.  What the hell is wrong with you?” = 26%
  • “Now I want donuts.  Thanks a lot, asshole.” = 40%

So basically the world can be divided into those whose mouths work properly and those whose don’t.  And those who just want donuts.  And those who answered “other” just to be purposely contrary.

For our second poll we’re moving to childhood because I insist that everyone in America was taught mandatory square dancing in elementary school and Victor just stares at me and shakes his head.

me:  This, Victor.  This is what everyone learned in music classes:

me: Who says white people can’t dance?

Victor:  Everyone who’s seen that video, to start with.

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And now, time for the weekly wrap-up: Graphic by Round Table Companies Shit I made in my shop (Named “EIGHT POUNDS OF UNCUT COCAINE” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):

  • “BE NICE OR I WILL STAB YOU” plate.  Remind anyone eating at your place why they shouldn’t be shitty.  Bonus:  Since it’s dinner you are likely to be actually holding a knife when they get to the message at the bottom of their plate, so they’re even more likely to take you seriously.  Great for Thanksgiving.
  • Bloody drawstring backpack.  Perfect for wet swimsuits or small books or one large human head.  The wording is nice because it’s comforting but it also tells people you might be dangerous.  Also, good camouflage in case zombies attack.

Shit that I’m vaguely involved with on the internets:

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

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

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Suburban Underbelly, a book by the lovely Michele Theron.  “For suburban moms Quinn, Jill, and Lucy, freedom from motherhood as a competitive sport starts innocently enough: three hours a week without kids.  Before they know it, things are careening out of control and their lives change in ways that they never could have imagined.  Sexy, snarky, smart and funny as hell–SUBURBAN UNDERBELLY invites you into a world with the best friends we all wish we had”.  Check it out here.

ANGRY POLLS (Volume I)

At least once a day Victor and I have a disagreement about something ridiculous and I always wish that I had all of the internet in the car with us to tell Victor that he’s insane, or to tell me that my hair looks nice.  I’ve decided to start sharing these disagreements here in the form of polls because I think it was Gandhi who said “The secret to a happy marriage is to drag in lots of strangers to join in your bloody conflicts.”

This week’s big disagreement was about the fact that he likes powdered donuts and I hate them.  I explained that powdered sugar makes my mouth unnaturally cold and was probably made by evil wizards.  He argued that powdered sugar did no such thing to him and that I was insane.  I argued that powdered sugar makes everyone’s mouth cold and that if I ever decided to run a marathon I’d carry a bunch of powdered sugar to sprinkle on my body whenever I got overheated.  He argued that I would never run a marathon.  He won that particular argument.

But the powdered sugar question still stands, so please be honest:

 

Added educational bonus:  If you’re one of the people afflicted with “my-mouth-thinks-powdered-sugar-tastes-like-refrigerated-poison”, here is the best explanation I found on reddit: powderedsugar

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And now, time for the weekly wrap-up: Graphic by Round Table Companies 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-kind-of-awesome:

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

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by an amazing anonymous company who wants to encourage you to give back to your favorite charity site.  Maybe it’s freerice, or Heifer, or Climb Out of the Darkness.   My personal favorite is Project Night Night, which provides homeless children with a new security blanket, a book, and a stuffed animal all nestled inside a new canvas tote bag.  You can sponsor an entire Night Night Package for a homeless child for just $25 online, or if you can’t afford that then use your voice to promote your own favorite charity to others.  This might be my favorite sponsored post ever.
 Thank you for being awesome.

Oh, you.

Sometimes I look at what people are searching for that brings them to this blog, and sometimes the search term is so long that you have to hover over it with your curser to see the search phrase pop up, and then you just sort of back away slowly while shaking your head.

Below is a screenshot of a few things people were googling that brought them to this blog.  (If you can’t read the picture then click on it once to see a larger version.)

Baffled.

PS. A message to the person leaving the second search-term:  I’m not sure if you meant to write “babyshitting” or “babysitting” but either way, you’ve managed to misspell it.  Also, what is wrong with you?

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

(graphic by Kelly Vivanco)

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-kind-of-awesome:

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Tonya Wyles, a former Army chick and stay at home mom who was once laid off while in full costume.  She’s now a professional Mary Kay Beauty consultant so she gets to spend time with her family and help women discover they can have great skin.  Also, you can do an online makeover at 3am like I did.  Check her (and the virtual makeover application) out right here.
.

Whoa there, princess.

Victor and I usually fight over the right side of the bed because someone always eats cookies on my side of the bed.   Usually I’ll try to stake out the non-crumby side but then Victor just pushes me over even though I keep explaining that crumbs are natural exfoliants and that he’ll smell like delicious thin mints all night but he never falls for it.

Luckily, I found a company that makes comforters just for selfish people like me:

Hey there, princess.

Well hey there, princess.

PS.  Turns out that Victor is secure enough in his masculinity to not give a shit about princesses so instead I’m just buying this version so I can at least look super-fancy while sleeping on the couch.

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

(graphic by Kelly Vivanco)

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

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by the fantastic Jane Devin, who just released her latest novel,  Bright Lines: A Life in Search of the Beautiful Ordinary.  After a childhood spent drifting between foster homes and the care of his criminally inept father, Easton McNeil embarks on a search for all the ‘beautifully ordinary’ things he’s never had.  Now an empty-nester, the man who’s always loved the idea of home sells his and embarks on a wholehearted mission to say yes.  You should buy it.  I just did.

It’s a good tip for writers either way

Victor: What are you doing?

me:  Reading.

Victor:  Shouldn’t you be writing?

me:  I’m reading about writing.

Victor:  That doesn’t really count.

me: This book says you shouldn’t be afraid to kill your characters.

Victor:  You write memoirs.

me:  Yes, but technically my memoirs would be more exciting if I started killing people.

Victor:  Hmm.

me:  I mean, I’d only kill off people who deserve it, obviously.  Like people who interrupt me when I’m reading.

Victor:  Point taken.  Carry on.

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And in other news, it’s 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 SilkWords, which is moving to a new reader-vote option.  It’s like choose-your-own-erotic-adventure except you get to vote on what the character does next and then the author writes the next section of the story based on winning votes.  This way you know you’re not the only person choosing the really questionable option.  The latest one is here.  You should check it out.

Oh, Facebook…you win.

Remember last month when Facebook sent me a targeted eBay ad specifically for me, and it was for the ass of a squirrel sticking out of a wall?  And I wrote about it and then Facebook decided to double down so the next week they sent me an ad for the taxidermied ass of a larger animal.  And then Victor told me I was bringing it on myself because I kept looking at these animal-ass auction ads that Facebook kept sending me and so Facebook probably thought I was into that sort of thing?  Well, I stopped looking at the weird ads Facebook was sending me, and Victor was right…the ass pictures have stopped.

They’ve been replaced with this:

I give up.

I don’t even know what that is but it seems to have a goggly-eyes and I think it comes with its own sauce.

Touché, Facebook.

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And in other news, it’s 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 Zazzle.com.  You already know I love them because I use them for my own shop, but they’re also pretty fantastic for finding bad-ass gifts, or creating your own.  You can customize designs that already exist or make things from scratch.  My personal favorite: post a picture of your kid (or cat, or whatever) here and they’ll turn it into an acrylic, cut-out photo sculpture.  I used that same process to make tons of tiny standing Beyoncé’s and Juanita Weasels so I could create a custom checker board.  I recommend.

And that’s why the bed looks like that.

me:  You know when you’re making the bed but the cat jumps up on it and you keep pushing him off but he jumps back up because he thinks you’re playing a game with him and he’s pouncing on all the wrinkles you’re smoothing away and finally you decide to teach the little bastard a lesson and so you just pull the comforter over the cat so he’ll see why he shouldn’t get in your way and you stare expectantly at the lump of cat in the middle of the bed, but it doesn’t move so you wait longer and it still doesn’t move and you suddenly suspect that maybe you’ve suffocated Ferris Mewler and that you’ll have to explain to your vet that you watched your cat smother because you were trying to teach it a lesson?  About beds, I mean.  Not about smothering.  And then you lift up the cover tentatively and your cat stares at you like, “What?  What do you want?” And so you’re like “Fine.  Be that way.”  And you put the covers on again and walk out angrily, but then an hour later you come back and the cat lump is still there and you think, “Shit.  This time I’ve really done it. There’s a lump of dead cat in there.” But then you take a deep breath and lift up the cover and the cat looks exactly the same (except maybe squintier) and you realize that he’s playing the long game and that you’re never going to be able to relax with him under there so you give up and pull the cat out and he goes limp and looks at you like, “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.  You did this. I was just laying under the covers. Because that’s what you seem to have wanted. I just want to please you.” And you’re not falling for your cat’s sarcasm because that’s how they win, so you just give up and drop the cat on the floor, and then you start to remake the bed and the cat jumps under the covers again and is like” HA! I was just fucking with you. This bed is mine, bitch.”  And then you just scream “Fuck this” and then you jump onto the bed and start kicking around and crawling under the sheets and frantically shoving your hands under the pillows so that you can show your cat exactly how ridiculous it looks, but then another cat walks in the room and he’s like “What are you doing?  IS THERE A BUG IN THERE?” and then he jumps up and starts frantically sticking his paws under the pillows too and looking up at you for guidance and then you feel guilty for giving him false-bug-hope and so you just give up and walk away?

Victor:  I’ll give you a dollar to stop talking.

me: You asked me why the bed was all messy.

Victor:  My bad.

PS.  The same cats 15 minutes later:

sleepykitties

Fuzzy little bastards.

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

holly granken art


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 PostalPix, which turns your mobile photos into beautiful, home delivered prints in minutes using the PostalPix App for iPhone and Android.  Just download the app, select and upload your photos right from your phone, and then PostalPix professionally develops and mails your photographs right to you.  Use the coupon code of 15OFF for 15% off on everything (including instagram prints) through June.

If you’re reading this I’m probably alive.

I wrote this the day before my surgery and scheduled it to post after my surgery so I’m either totally okay or I’m dead.  Probably the first one.

Now on to the real Sunday post, which is about how Google is trying to insult me with the baffling auto-suggestions it gives me when I search for things.  Am I the only  one who gets these things?  In the past few weeks I decided to record those that were particularly questionable.  These are a few of the most confusing:

I don't even have a dog.

I don’t even have a dog.

Google confuses me.

I couldn’t even remember what I was googling because the suggestions were so fucked up.

Google hates animals.

Don’t let Google pet-sit for you while you’re out of town.

Google is implying what now?

What are you implying, Google?

Google is not nice.

I have two of the first three and now I’m wondering if Google is trying to tell me to flee the country.

Google is trying to hurt my folder.

Wait.  Are all three of these related?  Because ew.

Stop trying to help, Google.  You’re just making it worse.

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

holly granken art


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

  • Nothing.  I’ve been busy.  But there are hundreds of things to buy on there.  But only if you turn your content filter off.  Otherwise you only see both of the G-rated things I’ve created.

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 Pretty Strip.  I thought it was a joke at first but one of my friends swears by it.  It’s a water-proof thingie that you use as a sort of a backward stencil to make designs in your lady garden, I think?  Hang on.  I’m not explaining this right.  “Pretty Strip is an easy-to-use product that allows one to perfectly shape unruly underwear hair into desirable designs.”  Much better.  You should check it out.  No, seriously.  Go look.  Then buy some so you can shave designs on your pets, or on unruly chest hair.  The possibilities are endless.