I might not be human.

Sometimes I get those captcha things on blogs where you have to prove you’re not a robot to post a comment, and it’s always a little insulting because am I the only person who can’t read these?


But I try not to take it personally because robots are kinda awesome so when I give up because I can’t prove I’m not a robot it’s not super insulting.  But then I just got this:

Screen Shot 2016-03-09 at 2.10.51 PM

First off, “Prove your humanity“?  A bit harsh.  Also, are there two words here?  BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE.  Is it “1710 street”?  “Texas flag”?    “Curb address”?  “Abject Confusion”?  Regardless, I don’t know and I think that means that I’m not human.

Thanks, internets.

Who actually IS here to fuck spiders?

The other day I was posting something in instagram, and then instagram decided to suggest a hashtag.

Specifically, the hashtag #NotHereToFuckSpiders:


First off, it seems weird that there are two hashtags for people who claim they aren’t afraid of spider because whatever, liars, but “NOT HERE TO FUCK SPIDERS”?  Because who is here to fuck spiders?  Why are so many people needing to use this disclaimer?

So I looked it up (because who doesn’t want “Not here to fuck spiders” in her internet search history, right?) and Urban Dictionary says it’s another way of saying “I’m not here to fuck around”.  Because when people have down time they’re likely to have sex with spiders.  I guess?  The english language is baffling.



Jenny needs to stop googling herself. Google needs to stop making assumptions.

Did you know that if you google your name followed by “needs” it will auto-populate some crazy-ass shit that google thinks you need?

Let’s try it:

jenny needs2


Huh.  So maybe let’s add another word?

jenny needs

Or not.  Whatever.

PS.  Am I the only one who got weird shit when they did this?

PPS. Can I borrow $16,000?

PPPS.  Hang on.  You know what?  Let’s try this again to see what Google thinks I actually have:

Screen Shot 2016-03-09 at 3.43.13 PM

Jesus, Google.  Never mind.


Remember when I was on Facebook and I was like, “Hey, Hailey has never seen real snow so tell me where to go to sled in tubes and ride in dog sleds and shit?” and you were like, “GO TO THIS PLACE BECAUSE IT’S AMAZING” and then I looked at the place and it was all,  “Um…did you know that snowy lodges are for rich people and are crazy expensive when you wait until the week before Spring Break to book it?  Do you even own a coat?” and that’s when I decided that maybe instead we should just take a road trip.  The problem though is that Victor and Hailey are extroverts who love people and I’m a hermit whose best idea of a vacation is a closet filled with books and cats who can’t poop.  So then we settled on a Spring Break road trip through Arizona, New Mexico, and maybe Utah and whatever other State we accidentally get lost in.  And it’s good because we’re going to see ghost towns and deserts and the Grand Canyon and those are all places that sound like fun and that are basically defined by a lack of people (and dirt) so everyone wins.

Also, we’re going ghost hunting and looking for outlaw cemeteries and maybe sleep in campy teepees and see the world’s largest pistachio.  So, yeah, it’s gonna be pretty bad-ass.  And yes, we’ll probably all strangle each other after spending a week in a car but I think it’ll be fine because this time I agreed to not loudly read books about human decomposition because apparently Victor hates science and knowledge.  But it’s okay because for Christmas I got one of those portable smart guitar jamstiks that you plug into your phone and I’ve never actually opened it so now I can learn how to play the guitar while we’re driving.

So we leave tomorrow and you should follow me on instagram because then it’s like you’re with me on a road trip.  It’s gonna be awesome.  Where should we go? Besides to see the giant pistachio.  Because that’s a given.

PS. I got a house sitter, burglars, and he’s packing heat.  And by that I mean that I told him to bring his own space heater because sometimes it gets cold here.  But also he probably has a gun because this is Texas.  Long story short, don’t come to my house.

PPS.  I just realized that for once my instagram is not going to be of cats and screenshots of video games about cats.  Now it’s gonna be a bunch of pictures of Victor looking really pissed.

PPPS. This is where I’d post a picture of the beautiful places I’m gonna go but I haven’t been there yet to take pictures so instead I’m going to post pictures of things I’m going to miss starting tomorrow when we leave.

Victor watching Cops and not being mad at me.  Dorothy Barker farting on Hunter S. Thomcat:

stuff ill miss

And Ferris Mewler lightly molesting the refrigerator while he begs for food:

ferris and the fridge

These are the few of my favorite things.  Especially the refrigerator.  This pistachio better be fucking amazing.  Also, that Grand Canyon thing.


Okay, I wasn’t really rejected by Oprah at all, but it makes a better title than “Someone from Oprah’s magazine asked if I’d write something about social media etiquette for them but then when I turned it in they were like, ‘We still love you but, no, not quite this’ so I decided to just share it here.”  But that title is very descriptive so I’m gonna leave it here too.  And now, to the article that I’m giving you for free.  YOU ARE WELCOME:

It’s easy to forget that there is a proper etiquette when it comes to sharing on social media, but no worries…I’m here to help.

1. Be as angrily vague as possible in your status updates. “Now I know who my REAL friends are” or “You think you’re cute” or “I’m smiling but I will poison you when you least expect it.” Make your friends and family as uncomfortable and unsettled as possible all the time.

2. Be shocked and outraged at least once a day. If you can’t start a tweet or Facebook status with “HOW DARE YOU” then it’s probably not worth saying.

3. If strangers online disagree with you, devote your day to yelling at them and getting everyone you know to yell at them as well. Don’t just unfollow them. Track them down and destroy them. Put your entire life on hold to focus on all-caps fights with them. It’s pretty much the written equivalent of public scream-crying and people fucking LOVE that.

4. Share inflammatory fake news on a daily basis. Did you know that Obama eats 18 live kittens a day? Well, I do now. Thanks for the update, Aunt Sue.

5. Never let on that you are a real human being. Your instagram feed should be beautifully curated to focus the maximum amount of shame and unrealistic expectations on everyone else. Also, use the word “curated” every day, non-ironically.

6. Share that super sexual picture of you on the internet. Sure, your parents and a bunch of creepy strangers will see it but so might that one guy you think may have ignored you at Starbucks that one time.

7. Intentionally misread satire. Get really pissed about it. Share it online and demand that everyone else share it too.  Then get more pissed when others clarify that it’s clearly sarcasm. Block those people. Block them as loudly and as hard as you can.

8.  Write the rules on social media etiquette.  No, literally.  Write them down.  Then make everyone feel bad for not following them even though you don’t actually follow them yourself.

9. Sharing means caring. If you don’t share this article then 20 angels will die. Whatever. Your choice.


What are you even looking for? Seriously. What the shit.

Every once in awhile I look at the top searches that bring people to this blog, and then I think, What?  Why?  What?  And then I share it with you because honestly it’s jut too fucked up not to share.

The strangest searches that lead people to my blog this week:

pierced dog ears (Stop it.)

Did unicorns ever exist? (They still do.  They’re just very strong and they’re called rhinos.)

If it weren’t for my big balls I could have won. (I’m not sure what the contest is but I think this is a very good excuse for anything.  Track.  Spelling bees.  Whatever.)

What was wrong with the doll in the land of misfit toys?  (Low self-esteem?)

Hyena in my belly button (Please, God, tell me you misspelled “hernia”.)

jenny the squirrel nude  (So confused.)

lf you laugh in a dream you hand out sperm.  (Is this a dream interpretation?  Because I think you’re doing it wrong.)

What does she mean when she said I am going to miss your blabbering (It doesn’t seem like a good sign.)

What causes belly button to protrude and get wounded  (Hyenas?)

What’s great about eating brownies?  (Pretty sure this is a trick question.)

Taxidermy pygmy goat for sale (Send me pics.)

What does it mean when u did in your ear it feel like something crawls away when i smoke (You’re totally high right now, aren’t you?)

women’s gurgling belly adult movies (Is that a new thing?)

Why is my umbilical cord chilly (I don’t even know what to say here.)

You know that i’m not going to fucking marry you regardless of what you say (I’m already married but I still feel rejected, so thanks.)

i am a number less than 3,000. when you divide me by 32, my remainder is 30. when you divide me by 58, my remainder is 44. what number am i?  (Are you coming here for math homework advice?  Because you are in the wrong place, my friend.)

Can I use a hot glue gun stick to make a anal plug? (OH MY GOD, NO.  Wait, do you mean before it’s heated?  But still, probably still no.)

Why do I have a long, clear hair on third eye?  (I think you’re concerned about the wrong thing.)

Cats eating baby brains.  (How did it even get this far?  Because babies heads are protected by skulls and cats really only eat the face meat at best.  Have you confused cats with zombies?  Also, why are you googling this.  Call a hospital.)

Recreational drug I smoked taste like burnt plastic (I think you might be smoking plastic.  Is your bong plastic?  Because that’s how you get cancer.)

The secret about watermelon (Is the secret that it’s delicious?)

What is a hat vulva?  (Well now we both want to know.)

Beaver shot (I’m not sure if this is a hunting thing or a sex thing but either way I’m not into it.)

I’m going to disney world but i dont know because i can’t read  (What?)

I have 3 nipples.  (Are you one and a half people?)

dont.you.love.when.your.in.conversation.and.you.get.hung.up.on.like.really.no call.back (What’s happening here?)

I think they replaced my generic xanax with genericer xanax (“Genericier” is my new favorite word.)

This is the second time my potato pain doctor is late sending in refill  (THANKS, OBAMA.)

Goat shoes (Sure.)

I put banana in my veginer (1.  That doesn’t sound sanitary, but it’s probably better than hot glue. 2.  Forget “genericier”.  “Veginer” is now my new favorite word.)

My meth won’t melt.  (I guess I don’t know how meth works.  Are you bragging or complaining?)

My cat seems like she is feeling good what am i doing right? (I want to high-five you and also I’m confused.)

Why are girl scouts such bullshit  (Mom?)

alligator lizard in my toilet (What is even happening here?)

ear digging bugs in cambodia  (Nooope.)

dead squirrel wall  (There’s a dead squirrel in your wall or you have a wall built out of dead squirrels?  Either way, ew.)

hamster vargina seal broken (This is just a random string of words, right?  Please?)

Twitter my little pony friendship witchcraft aeroport (Am I high?  Are you high?)

Why am I so muscular? (Wow.)

Angry because my cat don’t pick up my phone. (Pick your battles, dude.)

can i eat kfc mashed potatoes with inflamed gallbladder? (No.  Use your mouth.)

hydrogen peroxide in ear to remove roaches   (AAAAAAAAHHHH.)

You will be my valentine or get the hose again? (Well, that escalated quickly.)


And now, the weekly wrap-up:

bloggess sid

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 GloHoliday Travel a helpful, easy-to-use travel tips and holidays guide site.  Don’t let life pass by without taking the opportunity to roam the world and see new faraway places.  Gloholiday.com has a busy Pinterest and Facebook page filled with wonderful travel ideas, videos and pictures to inspire you. To see some of the wonderful vacation tips and holiday ideas on the site just head over and check it all out at gloholiday.com.

Dear me (and everyone else): Maybe just try not to be such an asshole.

I’m having one of those days where shit on the news makes me worry for humanity even more than usual, and then I remind myself that, in the end, there are far more good people in the world than bad.  Many are quiet and act silently and work magic even without knowing that the good they leave behind will grow into something larger.  Those things don’t make the news but we feel them every day…when someone smiles, or cares, or shows us a kindness we think we don’t deserve, or gracefully turns people who are bent toward hate and destruction in a direction a little closer to love.  It’s slow work.  But it’s good work.  Important work.

I’m friends with such a broad array of people and some make me frustrated and sad, some refill my cup each day by reminding me how much more we can be, some are unwitting examples of who I want to become and others are unwitting examples of who I am so grateful that I’m not, and some give me laughter and hope and inspirational sloth videos remind me that there is joy and silliness in the world that makes it worth living in.  We’re all at different stages and that’s okay.  You’re okay.  You may be hateful or angry or bitter or sad or confused or tired or abusive but the wonderful thing is that you will change.  You will.  Even if you don’t want to.  Life makes you change.  The bad thing is that you may change into someone worse.  The good thing is that you have the power to choose where you want to go from here.


Right this moment.

Just a tiny bit.

Ask yourself, what can I do right now to be kinder…to myself, to others.  And then try.  You won’t always succeed.  I won’t either and I’ll probably fail more often than I succeed, but the conscious effort to turn anger and indignation into compassion can make such a difference.  It’s a habit I’m willing to try to make for myself.

PS. That doesn’t mean I’m not still dangerously unpredictable so if you’re intentionally an asshole I still might accidentally stab you in the leg a few times before I calm down and remember that it’s always better to stab people with kindness.  Mostly because kindness is more likely to actually change assholes, and also because Victor found my hidden drawer full of emergency bail money and used it to pay the electric bill.  I can’t go back to jail, y’all.  So don’t be an asshole and then I won’t be an asshole and then other people won’t be assholes and then no one gets stabbed and I can use my bail money stash for things like donuts and ending world hunger.

Depends on how much I can save up, I guess.

PPS. From the Costa Rica Sloth Sanctuary:

Be the sloth you want to see in the world.

Bad Lizard Math

Whenever you write a book you always end up with a few chapters that you love that your editor suggests you cut and most of the time you argue about it until one of you caves.  This was one of those chapters from Furiously Happy and it was one of my favorites but it had to be cut both because the book was already too long and also because most everyone who read it was like, “What the fuck is a horny toad?”  I assumed that’s because all the people who read it were from New York but then I went on twitter and asked people if they knew what a horny toad was and 90% of them were like, “Uh…Overly sensual frogs?” and 10% were like, “Sure.  Those mostly extinct lizards that were all over in the 70’s that squirt blood out of their eyes and sleep on you?” and then the other 90% were like, “WHAT?  Are you guys high right now?”  And yes, most of us were, but that’s not the point.

The point is that if horny toads were not endangered this chapter might have been relevant enough to be in the book, but since they are almost extinct I had to cut this chapter.  But I still think I should share it because this is a good lesson in why we need to protect endangered animals.  Because otherwise it makes book-writing more difficult for me.  And other reasons, probably.

So here is a bonus chapter that never got published for those of you who loved, or have yet to discover Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things.
The 40th Argument I Had With Victor This Week:


Victor: That’s not a horny toad.

Me: The fuck it isn’t.

Victor: Horny toads are rounder. That’s a Texas Spiny Lizard. You can buy them at the pet store. Horny toads are endangered. That’s why you never see them anymore.

Me: Huh. You know what else you never see anymore? Tumbleweeds. Where have all the tumbleweeds gone? I can only assume they’re with the horny-toads. Here’s a thought: Maybe horny toads eat tumbleweeds. That would explain a lot.

Victor: Not really.

Me: Remember when you were a kid and you’d find horny toads all over the place and then paralyze them by rubbing their bellies and then they’d fall asleep in your hands like teeny lizard baby dolls?

Victor: Um…sorta?

Me: And then your mom would yell, “Take that horny toad outside before it squirts eye blood all over the carpet!” and you’d be like “Calm the shit down, mom. I’ve paralyzed it with my love.

Victor: No.

Me: Well, you obviously didn’t say the last part out loud because you’d get slapped.

Victor: No. I mean, I don’t think a lizard ever spit blood out of its eyes at me.

Me: Really? Are you sure you’re really from Texas?

Victor: Well, I recognized what wasn’t a horny toad, so yeah...I think I just passed my citizenship test.

Me: It makes me sad that horny toads aren’t around any more. I want to find some and start breeding with them.

Victor: Questionable phrasing.

Me: Frankly, I don’t understand why people aren’t breeding horny toads all the time. They’re obviously already aroused.

Victor: You do realize that “horny” is really short for “horned ” because of the spikes all over their bodies, right?

Me: Well, I still don’t understand why they aren’t having sex as much as they used to. Although, it would probably be hard to mount someone who had jagged spikes all over her. God. No wonder they’re so horny.

Victor: Again, that doesn’t mean-

Me: Oh, and they’re really easily paralyzed when you rub their tummies so they probably get stunned during sex all the time. Stunned and stabbed. No one wants that. That sounds like the worst porno ever.

Victor: Huh.

Me: OMG, we should make tiny little sweater-vests for them. And maybe some lizard cologne to get them in the mood.

Victor: You’ve thought way too much about this.

Me: And special lighting. MOOD LIGHTING. And I’d teach the horny toads to strut. I’d be like “Work it, girl!”

Victor: I don’t think lizards have anything to work.

Me: Well, I’d say it anyway to build up their self-esteem. Because confidence is sexy.

Victor: Stop.

Me: They need my help, Victor. Those horny toads are a hot mess right now and they need to get their shit together. And I can help them. Maybe give them tiny hats? Like bonnets for girls and Stetsons for boys. Or vice versa. I don’t want to encourage stereotypes. Just whatever keeps them from stabbing each other in the neck when they’re snogging.

Victor: You’re totally high right now, aren’t you?

Me: If I were high I’d physically try to mate them like you do with Barbie and Ken dolls. But instead I’m just going to give them all the tools and be like, “I did this for you so don’t fuck it up, okay? Make some babies, yo.” I just need some horny toads. I’d be like, “HEY LIZARDS: LET ME HELP YOU HELP YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU’RE RUINING LIZARDS FOR EVERYONE.”

Victor: For everyone?

Me: Well, for some of us. I miss the horny toads. I have sad lizard nostalgia. And our daughter will never know what it’s like to paralyze a lizard that can shoot blood out of its eyes.

Victor: So, you want to dress lizards up in sweater-vests for humanitarian reasons?


Victor: Got it. Going to sleep now.

Me: Remind me in the morning to learn how to knit.

Victor: I’ll get right on that.

PS. He totally did not remind me. Luckily though, I sent myself a voicemail saying, “DON’T FORGET TO FIND OUT HOW TO KNIT TINY SWEATERS SO LIZARDS CAN HAVE SEX BETTER” but then I forgot about it until I realized that I had 32 voicemails, and when I checked them in the movie theater during the previews I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off of speaker-mode so I got some weird looks, but then I explained “I’m a scientist” and then people looked less alarmed. I assume. I stopped looking because I didn’t want to have to deal with follow-up questions, and because at that same moment it occurred to me that maybe it’s not just a matter of the horny toad dudes not wanting to get stabbed in the junk. Maybe it’s also because horny toad newborns come out with full spikes and that would probably wreck a vagina. So probably after one baby the mama lizard is like, “Hey, you know what? We’re good. One is plenty.” I don’t know how to solve this, but I think it involves lizard-vaginoplasty.

Winner: No one wins when awesome lizards keep halving their population every generation. That’s just bad lizard math.

UPDATED: Shout-out to everyone who shared this with me today:

Screen Shot 2016-03-06 at 1.11.14 PM

They’re so cute I just want to eat them up.  Which would be counter-intuitive and is not to be taken literally.

Pick up the book nearest you…

Someone just sent me this:


So I decided to test it with my books.

The first full sentence of page 45 of the advance copy of Furiously Happy:

“It was like the Jesus-beach-footprint-in-the-sand poem, except with less Jesus and more bleeding.”


Trying again with the final version of Furiously Happy:

“It wasn’t enough blood to be worrisome.”

So that’s…not much better.

Okay.  Let’s try the paperback of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened:

page 45 bloggess

Yeah.  I think we’re done here.

Your turn.


And now, the weekly wrap-up:

bloggess sid

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 You Made Me a Mother, a super cute picture book about motherhood. It looks innocent at first, but you start reading it to your kid and suddenly you’re draining your eyeholes of tears and your kid is asking you what the hell you’re crying about. The book came about because of a viral video and Harper Collins was quick to pen a deal with the writer, Laurenne Sala, and Robin Preiss Glasser, the illustrator behind the NYT Best-selling Fancy Nancy series and their adorable picture book that hits shelves March 8th. If you want to watch anyone weep immediately, this is the present for them. Works on all kinds of moms, especially moms having baby showers, moms whose kids are going to college, moms with taxidermy collections, moms who never have a hair out of place, and moms who strictly wear holey yoga pants. Probably not for moms who totally hate their kids. Pre-order at YouMadeMeAMother.com

This argument is literally the 800 pound gorilla (who needs to be) in the room.

Yesterday I found something on the sidewalk outside a resale shop that I thought might be perfect in the living room but Victor was all, “NOPE.  KEEP WALKING, JENNY.”  And then I knew it would be perfect because I hadn’t even said anything yet and it was already obvious to both of us that we were picturing it in our home.



Victor said something about it being “ridiculous” and “a giant waste of money” but I explained that well-made furniture is always a great investment and then Victor was like, “Oh.  Well shit.   I owe you an apology.  I assumed you were talking about the giant gorilla.  You like the chair?”

And then it made me sad because I was talking about the chair.  And the gorilla.  Because the gorilla is a chair, Victor.


And also it’s a chair that makes me look tiny.  I was like, “Hey, does this chair make me look fat?  No.  No, it doesn’t.  It’s the most flattering gorilla I’ve ever sat on.”  Then Victor said that it wouldn’t even fit in the house and I agreed because I suddenly realized that we should put it in the pool, because first of all, it would keep neighborhood kids out of the pool if there was an angry gorilla glaring at them while they scaled the fence, and also it’ll be like one of those fancy, submerged chairs in beach resort pool bars.  Plus, we have a very small pool so that gorilla would easily displace like half the water in the pool and so then we’d save on water bills and I’d have someplace to sit.

We’re still discussing it.*

*”We’re still discussing it” = Victor is being even less whimsical than ever and I need a friend with access to a flat-bed truck and also maybe a crane.

PS.  Victor says that the gorilla is not a chair but if not then why is her hand like that? I guess she could be a stepladder, but who is going to push an enormous gorilla around the house just to reach the cabinets above the fridge?  No one.  Unless it has wheels.

PPS.  OH MY GOD, what if I add wheels to it and ride it around the neighborhood like a golf-cart?  But it doesn’t have any way to steer so I’d probably only be able to use it once and then have to abandon it in whatever house it crashed into so I don’t get sued and that seems like a waste of gorilla.

PPPS. Just realized that it would also make a great cat house.  Instead of one of those carpeted, boring beige scratching post trees they could climb all over this guy and cat fur wouldn’t stick to him.  Plus, it would be like a live, artistic reenactment of Koko and her kitten every day.  An artistic, sometimes-aquatic, traveling cat habitat and pool chair that can also help me reach the highest cabinets in the house.  This is the most versatile gorilla I’ve ever not owned.