I wrote this whole post and didn’t once make a joke about getting a little head. YOU’RE WELCOME, WORLD.

me: What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?

Victor:  Nothing.  What did you get me?

me:  ALSO NOTHING.  This is why we make such a good couple.  Because we get matching gifts for each other literally without even trying.

Victor: High-five.

me:  So since you didn’t actually get me anything…

Victor:  And here it comes…

me: …I was just thinking that I found something I want and it’s only $25 so if you want I could buy that and it could be my Valentine’s present.

Victor:  And it’s?

me:  A human head.

Victor:  *sigh*

me:  But it’s a fake one.  See.  LIKE, HOW DO I EVEN CHOOSE THE BEST ONE, RIGHT?

Victor:  JESUS.  By “best” do you mean “least likely to eat your face while you sleep?”  I think I’d rather you get a human head.

me:  You can’t get a human head for under $25 unless you go out and make one yourself and you know how much I suck at arts and crafts.

Victor:  So what do I get Valentine’s Day?

me:  The joy of making me happy without having to do any work?  The shared ownership of a cool-ass doll head?

Victor: *more sighing*

me:  A frugal wife who isn’t making homemade human heads at the kitchen table?

Victor:  Hard to argue with that one.

me:  No one ever has.

I think I’m in a Black Mirror episode

You know when several people send you a link to something on Facebook and you go to check it out and it’s someone complaining about having her posts plagiarized by someone else and you’re like, “I feel you, sister.  That shit suuuucks” because it happens to you a lot, but then you look at the screenshots like this:

because you realize that the post she’s claiming was plagiarized from her was actually published by you three weeks before she herself stole it and posted it?

And then you read multiple posts she wrote publicly shaming this other lady for stealing something from her that she actually stole from you first?

And she writes these long diatribes about how terrible this person is because it’s like having someone steal a piece of your soul because it’s her experience, her life and her soul and how this is wrong on every level and that it’s intellectual theft?  

And the rants go on so long that you start to wonder if you’re in the Twilight Zone and also the “soulful” experience she stole from you is literally about farts?

Just me?

PS. Not publicly shaming her here because that’s sort of gross and I’m giving her the chance to just delete it.  Just…DON’T DO THIS, OKAY?

PPS.  Thank you to all the people who continually (nicely) call out others who steal content or notify the person it was stolen from.   Last month someone stole content from one of my books and used it to convince people to buy their workshop on anxiety, which was ironic since it gave me all kinds of anxiety to see someone pretend to be me to bilk money out of people desperate for help.

(Giant hugs to my publishers who shut that shit down hard.)

PPPS.  I’m fine.  I was frustrated but I feel better now.  I’ve wasn’t sure if I should publish this but maybe it’s good to have it out there as a reminder that the world is very, very small and it’s almost impossible to get away with stealing people’s stuff and not get caught so just maybe don’t do it.  Or at least pick something more worthwhile to steal than a goddam fart story.  Just my opinion.

PPPPS. Spellcheck just underlined the phrase “intellectual theft” and when I clicked on it spellcheck said I should look up the definition of “intellectual” and now I’m mad again because I think I’m being insulted and also because spellcheck sort of has a point.

UPDATED: She apologized profusely and removed the post.  It’s all good.

The Third Annual Booksgiving

Hello and welcome to the third annual Booksgiving Day!

What is “Booksgiving Day?”  It’s a day to celebrate the magic of reading and to collectively give the stink-eye to people who don’t understand that no, you don’t actually want to just wait for the movie to come out.

Basically, two years ago I wanted to thank you guys for all of your support by giving out 30 copies of Furiously Happy, which I did, but then everyone else was like, “I WANT TO GIVE BOOKS TO PEOPLE TOO” so we set up a day where you could ask for one book from a stranger using an Amazon wishlist and if someone wanted to give it to you they would.  And they did.  Some people asked for a book for their child.  Some asked for a book to escape life for a bit.  Some asked just to have a reminder that they exist and matter, and then they went back in and bought a book for someone else.  And people found friends (and ridiculously good book recommendations) by looking at the particular book that each person really wanted.  And it was lovely.

Then last year people were like “LET’S DO IT AGAIN” and we did.  And it was awesome.  And this week we’re doing it again so if you want to ask for a book (or give a book) the details are all here.

I’m giving out 30 of my own books for those of you who are part of the community but haven’t been able to buy one, but you can pick any book at all and leave it in the comments and I’ll probably give out others once I hit my 30.  Furiously Happy is less than $6 today, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened is still in print and YOU ARE HERE: An Owner’s Manual for Dangerous Minds is on sale too.  WHOOP!


Here are the rules:

If you’re in a rough place and need a book to transport you somewhere else make A BRAND NEW wish list with nothing on it but the one book you want.  (Exception: If you have a kid who needs a book you can add that too.)

Here’s how you make a wish list:

Under “Accounts & Lists” choose “Create a list”:


Select “Wish List”.  Name it something like “A book I need”.  Select “Public” and make sure that “keep purchased items on your list” is NOT checked.


Now go find the book you want.  When you have it, click on the “Add to List” dropdown arrow and choose the wishlist you just made.


It will give you a confirmation screen where you should choose “View Your List”.


Here’s the most important part that people forget to do.  You have to add a shipping address to this wishlist even if you’ve already added it to other wish lists.  (Your address isn’t shared.  Just your name and city.)  Click on “Edit this list”…


…and where it says “Shipping Address” change it from “None” to your address.  Then click “Save Changes”.

Leave a link to your wishlist in the comments and say which book you’re asking for.  Pick things that are “Prime” whenever possible because it’s free shipping for a lot of us and lots of non-prime places won’t send to wishlist addresses.  Also, if you’re not in America put that in the comment so we can match people better by location and not have crazy shipping fees.   Feel happy.

Here’s how you buy a book for a stranger.  Click on their link.  Choose a book.  Select their name so it goes to their address.  If it doesn’t give you the option of picking their name it means they didn’t add a shipping address so delete what’s in your cart and go to the next person.  Send a story to someone in need.  Feel happy.

The only rule is that this is just for books.  No gift cards or clothes or anything else because it gets out of hand really quickly.  Just a simple book to take you away from the world and help you find new ones.

And as always, thank you.  Thank you for supporting my words and listening and passing them on to others.  Thank you for being amazing.  Thank you for reading.  Thank you for writing.  Thank you for llamas if you had anything to do with inventing llamas.

PS.  If you click on a wish list that says it’s empty that’s because the book has already been bought for them.   That is a very good thing.

PPS.  I love you guys.  Now I’m off to buy books.

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:


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.


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.):


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.


I’ve been stuck lately. Sickness and chronic pain and anxiety and assorted bullshit.  But today I felt human.  Enough to take a shower and leave the house and go write in this tumble-down shack I love…where I can feel like I’ve left the house without actually leaving a house.

There’s something about this broken building that speaks.  It’s filled with wasp nests and rusty nails but it’s still beautiful and unique.  Every time I visit it there’s another hole in the floor and the walls lean a bit more.  The wind sings strange songs through the walls and the rain and sun come inside, creating glorious damage and fascinating scars.  It’s dangerously flammable and more than slightly unstable but it still works.  Much like me.  And I always find myself (and leave myself) in it.

Don’t be fooled.  It may look like it’s falling apart but it’s so much stronger than you think.

So am I.

So are you.


I recovered from the flu (HELL YES) just in time to have debilitating lower back spasms (WTF?) and after a few days of pretending it wasn’t real I finally went to the doctor and she gave me muscle relaxers and made me go to a “sports therapy doctor” and that seemed weird because I don’t do sports, but I’m an expert at therapy so I thought maybe it would work, but when I was in the waiting room I heard a woman in with the doctor and she was making terrible involuntary sounds that normal people don’t make unless they’re being crushed to death by a large animal or having really aggressive sex and I didn’t want to do either of those at the moment so I just ran out of the waiting room because apparently I’m eight.

Also, my feet have been numb and weird and the main symptom is “I feel like I walked on invisible scotch tape and the scotch tape is stuck in between my toes and it’s peeling off when I walk but not entirely and I can’t take it off because it doesn’t exist and is this a thing or am I crazy?” and turns out that’s totally a normal (?) thing called Morton’s Neuroma and it’s caused by your nerve getting stuck between your inflamed feet joints. And then I asked my doctor if there’s also a diagnosis for “when you know you can’t start fires with your mind but you still keep trying because maybe this time it’ll work” and she said there’s not a diagnosis for that, but she’s wrong because it’s called optimism.

I want a baby.

me:  Hey.  Hear me out and keep an open mind, okay?  I want a baby.

Victor:  Who are you and what have you done with my wife?

me: It’s a 14 foot foam baby on craigslist.

Victor:  Oh.  There you are.

Worst crib ever.

PS. Apparently you have to go to New York to pick up the baby in person so I guess it’s not going to happen.  Ugh.  Adoption is expensive, y’all.

It’s a very pretty patronus.

Day 4 of the flu and I’m feeling almost human except for fever dreams and the tamiflu making me want throw up but Victor thinks maybe it’s also making me insane because I paused that Harry Potter movie where Harry casts his patronus and for a second I was like, “Hang on.  Is Harry Potter’s patronus a pretty, pretty dress?” and Victor thought I was crazy which is fair enough because I’ve read the books enough to remember that it’s a stag, but in my defense, this is totally a glow-in-the-dark version of the dress Julia Roberts wears when she turns classy in Pretty Woman:

Victor doesn’t see it so I had to draw the lady in because he has no imagination for swanky opera dresses worn by invisible women:
And then he totally saw it and now he says I’ve ruined Harry Potter because now he can’t see Harry cast anything other than a pretty, pretty dress, but personally I think a nice evening gown is way more functional of a patronus because live deer are difficult to wear.  Also deer are all over the damn woods but nice fitting cocktail dress is almost impossible to find.  If you’re going to use magic you shouldn’t use it to make temporary radioactive deer.  You should make dresses.

Or a t-rex.  A t-rex would be pretty badass.

PS. This post might not make any sense.  Sorry.  I have the flu and I’m hallucinating magic dresses.


My body is a deadly weapon. Usually just to myself but today it’s really going the extra mile.

I’m too tired to type so here’s what’s happening now:

Are you fucking serious right now?

A post shared by Jenny Lawson (@thebloggess) on

Have you had this flu?  If so, what helped?

Going to sleep on the couch and have fever dreams now.  Please send cat pictures.

“Winnie the Pooh is overrated.” ~ Eeyore (probably)

I saw that Winnie the Pooh was trending on twitter and my first thought was that he was dead and then I realized that was insane and my next thought was that he must’ve said something racist or sexually harassed someone and then I thought that the world is a bit bleak right now for me to rush to that conclusion but in my defense, the guy walks around wearing a midriff t-shirt and no pants all the time, which is questionable at best.

Turns out though that it’s Winnie the Pooh Day and that’s nice because I really love A. A. Milne, although mostly because I’m a big fan of Eeyore, who is my personal patronus and is forever overshadowed by a mildly problematic bear who only ever covers his upper nipples.

One of the most famous Winnie the Pooh lines was being quoted a billion times on twitter:

And I know that line is very celebrated but basically it just means “I want for your last day on earth to be spent in mourning, oh and also it’s your birthday.”  I mean, maybe it’s just me, but I don’t want your corpse as a birthday present.  If anything the quote should be “I want to live to three hours after you die so that I can throw out all the empty bottles and delete your browser history and burn all our p0rn before the grandkids get here and start poking around in our drawers.”  That’s the kind of love you want.  Realistic, gritty, slightly unsettling.  Get yourself an Eeyore kind of love.

PS.  Spellcheck keeps changing “Eeyore” to “Eyesore” and that is exactly the kind of bullshit Eeyore shouldn’t have to put up with but totally would because he’s jaded but also very real.  Happy Eeyore Day, y’all.  Don’t wish your corpse on people.  Unless they’re people you don’t like.  Some assholes probably deserve to be bombarded with unexpected birthday corpses.  Just choose wisely.