Category Archives: weekly reruns

Well, *that* doesn’t bode well.

So, this is going around Facebook:

page 45

I decided to try it, and the book next to me was the German translation of my book.  The sentence is:

“Der Familienlegende zufolge schlug der Mann meiner Ur-Ur-Grobtante, als die schon Über dreißig war und eines Tages am Frühstückstisch saß, seiner Frau von hinten einen Nagel in den Schädel und begrub sie anschließend im Garten.”

This, of course, translates to:

“According to family legend, when my great-great-great aunt was in her thirties, she sat down at the breakfast table and her husband drove a nail though the back of her skull and then buried her in the backyard.”

And that’s why I’ve hidden all the hammers on the roof, Victor.  I’m saving you from yourself.  And I’m also saving me from yourself.  We’re both benefitting.  Stop asking about the hammers.  The hammers are gone.

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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’s wrap-up is brought to you  by the lovely Helen Pellet, who has a brand new show on cable access called “Here’s What I Like And Now I’ll Tell You Why.”  Watch her describe what she likes, assisted by her hapless maid, Nora Marbles.   My personal favorite: “Green: The Bluejean of Nature.”  I recommend.

I’d kill everyone just out of spite, but I’m possibly too old and might break a hip.

Conversation with the guy at the video game store:

Clerk: Can I help you find something?

me:  I’m looking for a new game.  Something where you explore and solve puzzles but you don’t have to shoot anyone.  Something like Myst, maybe?

Clerk:  I’m not familiar with it.

me: Really?  Myst?  It was a super-big-deal video game.  It came out in the mid-90′s, I guess?

Clerk:  Oh.  Yeah, I wasn’t born then.

me:  Ah.  And now I understand why they say video games make people violent.

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

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 the fabulous woman who invented JustGoGirl,  a low profile pad for women with athletic leaks that occur when you run or jump.  Millions have this issue but it hasn’t received a lot of attention because women aren’t comfortable talking about it. It’s light, comfortable and invisible in tight workout clothes.  It’s also good to wear when you’re laughing so hard that you pee.  Just saying.

It’s beginning to look a lot like I’ll be stabbing people accidentally.

Conversation between me and Victor:

me: Hey!  I found what I want for Christmas.

 Victor:  Um…no.  You can’t have a knife for Christmas.

me: It’s not just a knife.  It’s a knife with a flashlight it in.

Victor: Why would you even want that?

me:  So I can see where I’m stabbing, obviously.

Victor: Right.  And that would be reason number 800 why you can’t have a knife for Christmas.

me: Look at it this way…during the zombie acopolypse we’ll all be walking around with flashlights.  But mine will have a knife on it.  For stabbing.  That’s like the best zombie-fighting flashlight ever.

Victor: Jenny, you can’t just rationalize everything based on the zombie apocalypse.

me: Uggh.  You always say that.  You’ll feel really bad when I can’t see what I’m stabbing later.

Victor:  And this is why I don’t like Christmas.

me:  I know.  Sorry.  Zombies ruin everything.

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

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 the lovely people at YummyYummyTummyan educational game developer on a mission to trick kids into learning.  In their latest, Nommons: Math Universe, players will fly a spaceship to go for an adventure in various worlds, but when it crashes, they need to patch it up by solving math questions to continue their journey. Check out the details here.

 

Haters gonna get vagina-punched

Conversation with my friend who doesn’t want to be named because she’s afraid of critics and doesn’t know how to punch hard enough:

friend: I don’t understand why people are so upset by critics.

me:   They’re probably just not used to it yet.  You have to develop a layer of “I-have-no-shits-left-to-give-about-this-ness.”

friend:  I think you just have to realize that there will always be critics. Haters gonna hate.

me:  I prefer “Haters gonna get vagina-punched.”

friend:  Seems kinda sexist.  Not all haters have vaginas.

me:  Obviously you’re not punching them hard enough.

friend:  Oh.  Ow.  And awesome.

Clarification:  I do not condone punching people in the junk whenever you’re criticized.  Critics can be amazingly helpful and if you dismiss them out-of-hand you’re denying yourself the chance to improve.  Unless the critics are just being complete dicks and they said something about your mother.  Then you should junk-punch them.  End Clarification.

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

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 Dayna from Princess Burlap, who blogs to inspire (and sometimes offend).  From Dayna: “Truth is, life can be sweet, salty, sour, bitter and umami, sometimes all at once and that shit is not delicious. But it’s life and it’s such a wild ride, isn’t it? Some days you’ll laugh with me, some days you’ll cry with me (trigger warning), but you’ll always get unbridled, unhinged and unfiltered me. That’s a promise. And a threat.” She’s lovely.  Go visit her.

I’m going to make a t-shirt for Victor that says “You’re doing it wrong.” It would save him so much time.

After the 80 bajillionth time Victor told me that I was doing something incorrectly I decided I needed to make a t-shirt for him that simply says, “You’re doing it wrong.”  It would save him so much time.

He can’t really help it, but he does tend to point out everything I do wrong, from sitting (too floppy)…to drinking (too sippy)…to writing (overuse of the word “too”).  I suspect that if given the opportunity, he’d critique the rate at which my cells divide and how poorly I organize my uterus.  But then I considered the t-shirt idea again and I realized that when he told me I was “doing it wrong” I could stare at him and know that if he had chosen to wear the appropriate shirt he wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of saying it out loud.  So technically he’s doing it wrong.  And we both win.  Or lose.  Together.

If you need one for your own personal Victor, just click the picture.

PS. As I was designing this shirt for Victor he paused behind me and said, “That logo is crooked” and then walked away.  And it’s not crooked.  It’s just the way it looks on the website.  But he’s sort of proving my point.  Then he said he liked the way that it started out almost positive and then really got the point of the matter.  I suggested that he could wear some duct tape over the “WRONG” part and just strip it off only when I was fucking something up but he said that duct tape loses its grip after a few hundred removals.

Then he pointed out a typo.

I rest my case, you guys.

He says he does too.

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

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 Dumb White Husband vs SantaThe perfect family Christmas is a lie. Just ask the guy in this story. He had the perfect plan and everything got together for the holidays just to screw it up. Weird shaped gifts, neighbors, fruitcakes, and some a-hole dressed as Santa telling kids they’ll be getting a bike for Christmas. It’s all the things we love that suck about the holidays. And, it’s only 99 cents.

And that’s why you should never read over someone else’s shoulder.

Whenever I’m sitting next to a stranger on a plane who insists on looking at whatever I’m typing I usually feel very uncomfortable, so I immediately write something that makes them feel just as uncomfortable, and that’s why so many of my book chapters end with murder confessions that need to be deleted before I send them to my editor.  An example of the one I wrote this month:

“Note to self: The Pirates of the Caribbean Ride at Disneyland is littered with bones and decaying skulls.  Possibly a good place to dispose of the next body?  But then you have to carry a bag of dead body around Disneyland and that would be hard to explain.  But Disney would probably would want to avoid bad publicity and maybe Security would just confiscate the bones and let you go free?  Does it count as ‘disposing of a dead body’ if it’s confiscated?  Would that make the security guard an accessory to murder?  Maybe I could just tell them that it’s my grampa and that he wanted to ride Space Mountain one last time.  Everyone loves Space Mountain.”

End result?  I got the armrest.  Win.

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

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 Word of Mouth Women. Word of Mouth Women is a LA based Marketing Firm with immediate blogger opportunities. You probably want to sign up for their newsletter if you’re a blogger or influencer. You can follow them on twitter even though no one ever tweets. You can like WOM Women on Facebook, that’s where they announce most of their events and signups. 

Victor says squid-latin doesn’t exist but I think it’s just that he’s bad at languages.

An explanation about something that I pinned:

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

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 brought to you by the creators of Casetagram, the world’s first social design service to make customizable phone cases using Instagram & Facebook photos.  With national multiple TV features like Good Morning America, and E!, it has become one of the most loved accessory around the world.  Personally, I’m considering putting a giant picture of my face  on mine so that when I’m looking at my phone it looks like I’m really paying attention and not on my phone at all.  GENIUS.

STITTING: You can’t do it and your cats can’t stop bragging about it.

Conversation with Victor:

me: I think I have a problem.

Victor: Technically you have lots of them.  Which one specifically are you speaking of?

me: Look at Hunter S. Thomcat.

Victor: Yeah.  He’s being a cat.  What a bastard.

me: No.  I mean, he looks as if he’s standing on the stairs at full attention, but if you look behind him you’ll notice he’s actually just sitting.  He’s pretending to stand, but really his ass is totally asleep.  Also, I suspect that he’s not even awake and is just too lazy to close his eyes.

Victor: …And this is a problem because?

me: I think I’m jealous.  I’m jealous of the cat.

Victor: Ah.  Yes.  That is a problem.

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

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

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 a fantastic zomnibus you should probably check out.  How would a typical husband handle a zombie outbreak? Answer: Not well. See how Chris, John and Erik cope with the living dead in Dumb White Husbands vs. Zombies by Benjamin Wallace, the first full length novel in the bestselling Dumb White Husband series.

It’s a vicious circle

True story:  Last week my doctor gave me a new drug to take for my ADD.  I’m supposed to tell her if it works for me but I don’t know if it works because I’m supposed to take it 3 times a day but I can never remember to take it because I have ADD.

I also take a drug that fucks with your memory and I can never remember to have it refilled until I’ve forgotten so long that the drug is out of my system enough to actually remember shit.

I would pay good money to have someone else manage my drugs for me and make sure that they’re always refilled, authorized and mailed to me.  And handed to me with water.  With a flintstones vitamin.  And a cocktail.  I basically want to live in a retirement home, but without the old people.  And I want the nurse who knows how to make Moscow Mules.  I don’t think I’m asking for too much.  Or possibly I am.  It’s hard to tell because I ran out of anti-psychotics.

I think I just proved my own point.  And not in a good way.

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

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 brought to you by some fabulous people who want others to stop driving like an asshole.  From them: “We would like people to ask their insurance agents for an OBD2 device that runs on the sprint network. The OBD2′s provide a few great things but the punchline is that they keep you from driving like an asshole. They make it impossible to text and drive, and can cut down on accidents.  They send you alerts if your car is driven recklessly or out of bounds (great for parents of new drivers or who have nannies) and it can help you locate your car if you forget where you’ve left it (hello, Disneyland).”  You can find out more here.

I bet that truck is sticky

Conversation I had with my husband after seeing this semi:

me: Wow.  Why would you even need a truck to sell three-ways?

Victor:  Maybe they’re so popular they’re selling them in bulk.

me:  I don’t understand the business practice.  Do they bring the three-way to you?  Are there three-ways happening in the back of the truck?  What does it all mean?

Victor:  So many questions…so few answers that don’t make me want to spray that truck down with disinfectant.

PS. In that truck’s defense, it’s apparently just a trucking company with a really unfortunate name.  In my defense, when you google “three way” this is the very first thing that comes up:

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

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 brought to you by the creator of Spank Me, Mr. Darcy, a tongue-in-cheek (among other places) version of Pride & Prejudice injected with erotica.  From LifeStyle Mirror:  “Fans of classics and historical romances will appreciate this Jane Austen-meets-kink mashup, using Pride and Prejudice as the jumping-off point. Do you like bodice-ripping? Oh, there’s bodice-ripping, all right, and then some.”  You can check it out here.