The Bloggess

UPDATED: Twice as cute. Although I suppose that’s subjective.

thebloggess — Tue, 24 Jun 2014 16:16:40 +0000

Last month when we were in Atlanta I found an old, two-headed taxidermied bobcat in a thrift shop that I really wanted to buy, but then I noticed that the shop also had a human hand in a jar for sale. I couldn’t justify buying both of them and that’s when I realized that this is probably the kind of torture that normal women go through when they’re forced to pick only one pair of shoes. The bobcats were awesome because they were on clearance, so they were twice as cute and half off. The math does itself. Victor disagreed, but I pointed out that there was a lot going with these bobcat heads. One face seemed conservative and cranky while the other seemed flighty and possibly insane. These heads were a personification of us. The Victor-ish head seemed to say, “No. This is a terrible idea” but the me-head was like, “I CAN’T WAIT TO GO HOME WITH YOU GUYS. GIMME A SNUGGLE AND A BALLOON.”

I’m the one in the middle.

But the severed hand was cool too, mostly because it was tattooed in the most ironic way ever.

So…yeah.

You have to question how “lucky” a guy is if he ends up with his hand in a jar, but severed rabbit feet are supposed to be lucky too so maybe this all makes sense somehow. I couldn’t decide between the two so I held them up to Victor one at a time. “Which is better? The conjoined bobcat faces or the severed hand?” He looked at me like he was in pain. I don’t blame him though. It was a tough decision. Victor insisted that I couldn’t buy both but I cradled the bobcat heads and said, “I don’t know. I really need ‘a hand’ with these two. Literally.” Victor pointed out that we were getting on a plane in a few hours and I probably couldn’t bring a human hand through airport security, and I was like “Good point. Because of the liquid formaldehyde, huh?” And he was like “AND BECAUSE IT’S A HUMAN HAND.” I don’t know much liquid can you bring on a plane if a severed hand is displacing most of it so I still couldn’t decide but then the clerk pointed out that the hand was an old movie prop made of latex and so I decided to pass on it because I’m allergic to latex. I paid for my cat(s) but I couldn’t come up with good names for them. Victor suggested “Hang-Nail & SideCat” but I asked twitter and they suggested several winners too and now I can’t decide. So I’m going to let you decide. Please vote on the best names for the newest members of my terrible posse:

The left head hates the tie. The right head loves it. Victor would prefer it if I’d stay away from his ties.

UPDATED: Another option. Please don’t sue me, Kevin Smith. It’s a tribute. Swear to Alanis Morissette.

Oh, Facebook…you win.

thebloggess — Sun, 22 Jun 2014 17:57:16 +0000

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 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:

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

Chocolate-filled calendar. Except without dates because this way you can go for the chocolate whenever the hell you need a piece without a calendar telling you what to do. Perfect for friends having a shitty week. This is the safe-for-work version.
This is the version you hide in your desk and eat from when you coworkers are being dicks.

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:

The only thing better than this website are the people who don’t realize it’s satire.
Victor and I are amateur ghost hunters so we visit lots of haunted hotels, but he’s drawn the line at this one. Also, I’ll never eat ham again.

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.

I’m stuck on this deer. Literally.

thebloggess — Fri, 20 Jun 2014 16:45:20 +0000

Victor says I never accomplish anything when he’s out of town but I spent yesterday super-gluing tiny rhinestones to a taxidermied deer’s nose so that it would look more magical. So there, Victor.

PS. I bought the deer in a thrift shop because it looks exactly like Victor when he’s like “What the hell is wrong with you?“

“Honestly. What are you doing? I’m just baffled.”

And the answer is that I’m rescuing a battered old deer head to turn him into the kind of magical bad-ass who looks fit to hang out with The White Witch of Narnia.

I’m not even close to finished yet, but it’s a work-in-progress…

After

PPS. I accidentally super glued my thumb to a dead deer’s face so now I can check that one off my bucket list. Victor said it doesn’t count because no one has that on their bucket list, but I do my bucket list in reverse order (writing down the items I want to accomplish after I’ve already accomplished them) so that I’m always caught up. So now I can also scratch off “dismantle a chandelier” and “bedazzle a corpse”. Also, “annoy victor from several States away”. He claims that one was already accomplished long ago but now I’m trying to set a record for distance.

Summer vacation. UPDATED.

thebloggess — Wed, 18 Jun 2014 20:29:40 +0000

This isn’t today’s post. Today’s post is here. It’s about cats. As usual. This is just something I need advice on that I can’t fit on twitter.

Hailey’s off for the summer and we want to take a family vacation but we have no idea where to go. We want someplace exciting, but not super stressful or crowded. Someplace where you can sign up for tours/activities, ideally. Our favorite vacations were Alaska (glacier-watching, crab-fishing, hiking, whale-watching, panning for gold, hanging with bear) and South America (cave diving, exploring ruins, hanging with monkeys) but it would be awesome to find something new that’s easy and fun and can be done in 4-5 days. I was thinking Yellowstone but Victor thinks it might be boring. He was thinking New York but crowds freak me out. Hailey was thinking Jupiter because she’s nine and doesn’t understand the concept of limits.

I need advice. What’s the best place you’ve ever been and what did you do there that made it awesome?

UPDATE: You guys are the best and holy shit, do you love traveling. After going through all the comments we winnowed it down to 5 spots less than 3 hours away and then my friend Karen called and was like, “Why don’t you just go to Hell?” It seemed a bit abrasive for Karen, but turns out she was referring to Hell, Grand Cayman, which was on our short list because apparently the island has pirates, rum and a sea turtle farm. This works well because I like pirates, Victor likes rum and Hailey likes turtles. We just bought our plane tickets but I haven’t booked a hotel or anything else. Since crowd-sourcing worked so well this morning I’m trying it again…those of you who pushed (or who’ve visited) Grand Cayman: Where’s a good place to stay? What should we do and/or avoid? Why am I paying money to go to Hell when I’ll probably end up there for free eventually? Pick a question.

And that’s why cats shouldn’t be allowed phones

thebloggess — Wed, 18 Jun 2014 18:44:15 +0000

Truthfully though, the same sort of progression happens to just about anyone when they begin taking selfies…

This makes me weirdly homesick.

thebloggess — Tue, 17 Jun 2014 19:02:31 +0000

My sister and her kids are at my parents’ house and we were supposed to be there too but this hernia bullshit made traveling impossible so I’m living vicariously through my sister’s texts:

Turns out that they are not swans but are baby geese. I know from experience that they grow up into real bastards and can draw blood when angry, so I reminded Lisa to get tetanus shots but then she reminded me that she had already learned her lesson because daddy had given her husband tetanus a few years ago. Accidentally, that is. Not as a gift. That would be a terrible gift. Not as bad as indoor geese probably. But close.

Bumble protecting the kids from predatory geese with his “I’M WATCHIN’ YOU FUCKERS” stare. I don’t know if he has his tetanus shot yet. He’s new to the family.

This all makes me terribly homesick.

How weird.

And that’s why the bed looks like that.

thebloggess — Sun, 15 Jun 2014 17:20:37 +0000

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:

Fuzzy little bastards.

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

And in other news, it’s 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.):

I made this for Victor. He’s gonna get a lot of confused stares.
It’ll get you more respect than a wedding ring.
It’s true.

What you missed on the internets:

Kick-ass stuff I pinned.

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.

OHMYGOD WHAT IS THAT?

thebloggess — Thu, 12 Jun 2014 02:17:45 +0000

WARNING: This post contains pictures that might make you make involuntary noises. It also contains kittens and Jesus, though, so it sort of evens out in the end?

I’m still slunking around the house like Quasimodo but I’m starting to feel less awful and I can even stand almost upright without screaming if you give me a minute to get into position. I complained to Victor that it was weird that my belly button (where the hernia actually was) didn’t hurt at all but that the pain was on my sides, like I’d been pinched by one of those claw machines and he was like, “Well, yeah. Your belly button wouldn’t hurt because they did all the surgery from the sides and never cut into your belly button” and I started to disagree and he was like, “Seriously. You hurt because of the mesh they sewed around the sides. Remember the pictures?” And then I just stared at him because WHAT? “Remember the pictures”?!

Apparently there are photos of my insides that the robot took while it was fixing shit and Victor swears I saw them and that I insisted that he take pictures of them with his phone. So basically the most naked pictures of me on earth have been on Victor’s phone this whole time. Victor says that pictures of me under my skin don’t count as “naked” but I assure you that they are the most naked I’ve ever gotten. I made him send them to me so I could see them and then I was like “WTF IS THAT?” and Victor just shrugged but I’m a little disconcerted because I’m pretty sure the surgeon grafted an upside-down cross into my stomach. I know that pain pills and anesthesia make me an unreliable witness and that’s why I’m including a picture. Also, I am immune to being grossed out and can watch the surgery channel with no qualms but I realize this isn’t normal so if you’re even slightly easily barfy then just squint your eyes and scroll until you see the Jesus kitten, which I added to calm you down after seeing horrific nightmare pictures of my insides.

***

Ready?

***

Naked pictures of the bloggess:

AAAAAH. KEEP SCROLLING.

You’re safe now. Jesus Kitten.

First of all, if you’re here because you googled “naked pictures of the bloggess” then you brought this on yourself, asshole. Secondly, WHY IS THERE AN INVERTED CROSS SEWN INTO MY STOMACH? Is that normal? I need medical opinions here, people.

I pointed it out to Victor and asked “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” and he said “Well, that seems to be the mark of the beast.” Then I glared at him and he was like, “What’s really weird is that that cross was already there when they cut you open” and I inadvertently laughed which hurts a TON, but maybe it hurts so much because I’m so holy and my body is rejecting Satan. It’s like when you put a right-side-up cross on Dracula and he gets all flinchy, except the opposite.

PS. I’m sorry about exposing you to this picture and I assure you that my normal stomach looks AMAZING compared to these pictures. Except for the six scars that are in the process of healing. Those look super stabby.

PPS. I’m not sure where that kitten picture came from but my friend mailed it to me when I was dealing with a bout of depression and I was like “Did you just send me a Jesus kitty?” and she was all, “Are you high right now?” because she didn’t see the insane resemblance to all the Jesus pictures I grew up with and so I sent her this:

She agreed that the artist might be the same but pointed out that Jesus Kitten couldn’t be on Jesus’ Bible because it was written after he died but I was like, “Well, maybe it’s the Purrst Testament” and then she said I needed to stop before I went to hell but I’m pretty sure this upside-down cross is going to be harder to explain than a bunch of kitten puns.

PPPS. I’m still on a lot of drugs. Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. I blame the fact that there’s a satanic mark sewn into my stomach. You’d probably be fucked up too.

PPPPS. Seriously, medical people, does that thing look right? Is there supposed to be a cross there?

Ow.

thebloggess — Tue, 10 Jun 2014 18:14:57 +0000

Not a real post. Just a quick note:

I had hernia surgery on Friday night and I still feel awful even though lots of people said I’d be as good as new in a few days, so now I feel shitty because I hurt and also shitty because I hurt. That sounds like I just repeated myself but I assure you, there’s a difference. It might be one that only makes sense when you’re on the same pain pills I’m on, though.

On the plus-side, I can finally sit up without screaming and I can creep around the house for several minutes as long as I do it in super-slow motion so I don’t jostle anything in my stomach. I’m like a small, screamy iceberg who suddenly can’t do anything normally anymore.

This gif is pretty much exactly what it’s like to be me today:

I’d have a funny ending here if I wasn’t ouchy and high.

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

thebloggess — Sun, 08 Jun 2014 18:15:30 +0000

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

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

What are you implying, Google?

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

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

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

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

And in other news, it’s 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.):

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:

Kick-ass stuff I pinned.
Brooke Shaden. Love her.
Adopt an animal. Buy a calendar. Do both.
I tried to get Scalzi to steal a dead fox for me but then he got caught and William Shatner wisely distanced himself from the upcoming arrest. It’s sort of a long story.

This week on shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome:

So, people dress up and fall down a hill chasing a bunch of cheese. Makes sense.

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.