I saw this on pinterest and it wasn’t attributed to anyone, which is probably good because it’s basically a picture of your door telling you what to do. Which is kinda fucked up. Because now you’re taking orders from a door.
Stop being so demanding. You're a fucking door.
Some people will say it’s a nice idea because positive suggestions are almost always a good thing, but I think if you’re at the point when you’re looking to your door for advice then you probably need more help than just the generic “Be more awesome.”
That’s why I suggest writing these on your doorjamb instead:
It's a little creepy, but sweet. Mostly creepy though.
This one's good because it has lowered expectations, and also because if you do fuck something up you can just blame it on your door forcing you to do things and no one will argue with you because you sound too unbalanced to engage with.
The original just said "Don't set stuff on fire" but then I changed it because this way it appeals to arsonists too, and I think door advice should be more inclusive.
And my personal favorite:
Because...yeah.
And in entirely unrelated news, it’s time for the weekly wrap up:
What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “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 sponsored by I Just Want to Pee Alone*, a collection of 37 essays from some of the funniest mom bloggers on the web. Each essay is the perfect length to read during a pee break, and if you leave the book in your bathroom you should finish it in approximately 37 pees. Hence, this book prevents urinary tract infections and possibly depression. Your bladder will thank you. This book makes a fabulous mother’s day gift.
Today I got a box filled with vintage glass cow eyeballs. Except replace “vintage glass cow eyeballs” with “new copies of the UK version of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened“.
They’re very similar in that they are both fairly baffling and people can’t help but pick them up and wonder at them. And also, you don’t actually need a whole box of them. At most you can only use a dozen glass cow eyeballs and then the rest just go to waste. Ditto with a giant box of books. That’s why I’m giving away several here this week (autographed books, not eyeballs). All you have to do is leave a comment and you’re entered to win.
This copy includes the new chapter, which you might possibly be in. Please don't sue me.
What should you comment about? Anything. Your favorite toe. The pet names of your body parts. How many glass eyeballs you think a normal person uses in a lifetime. The number of bodies you can fit under your bed. It’s totally up to you.
Also, for some strange reason this bewildering memoir is still on the Indie Bestseller lists and the NYT bestseller list and I’m still getting emails from people who had never even heard of this blog but who stumbled over the book and are so thankful that they’ve finally found their tribe. Thank you for being that tribe. And thank you for letting me be a part of it.
Remember yesterday when I said that getting a morphine-drip was like being frenched by a unicorn? Well, it’s sort of been stuck in my mind ever since and so this morning I tweeted this out:
The responses were astounding and they helped me to find, lose and then find again my faith in humanity. This is why twitter exists. This is why we’re here. Because there is such great joy in embracing the bewildering art of taking a joke way, way too far. Thank you for taking that journey with me.
And in case you haven’t followed it on twitter, here are just a few of my very favorites. (Click on the pics for links to the artist’s awesomeness.)
You guys are weird.
Never change.
Okay, you guys? I’ve been reading these Keep Calm memes for the last 80 billion (internet) years and I just want to scream, “I CAN’T KEEP CALM BECAUSE I HAVE AN ANXIETY DISORDER AND YOU CONTINUALLY TELLING ME TO KEEP CALM IS JUST MAKING IT WORSE AND NOW I’M SCREAMING ON THE INTERNET AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.” Seriously, I’m not responsible for that. But I’ve made a new “Keep Calm” sign designed especially for people like me with extreme anxiety disorders.
You. Are. Welcome.
See. It’s a perfect circle. Or a vicious circle. One of those.
PS. I’m not glorifying drugs but – in my defense – some drugs are pretty damn glorious. Like, have you ever had a morphine drip? Because it’s like being frenched by a unicorn. A unicorn who has morphine-based saliva. But you have to rip your arm off to get it, so I don’t recommend it. Just say no to ripping your own arm off.
PPS. I think we could have won the War on Drugs with that slogan. ”Just say no to ripping your own arm off.” Because first of all everyone listens to that advice, and secondly, no one wants to get involved in a class of drugs that ends with you wanting to rip off your own arm. Probably.
PPPS. “I want this on a t-shirt.” I KNOW. Here it is. Double-sided for Mother’s Day. Because it both promotes and discourages drug use at the same time, and that dichotomy acknowledges the complicated and multi-layered nature of motherhood. Plus, you probably need a t-shirt. It’s not always that deep, y’all.
PPPPS. As requested, magnets.
“How much blood will each bag hold?” ~ Victor to a baffled clerk while buying several boxes of black trash bags at a gas station.
And that’s the reason why I will never divorce this man.*
*Both because of his incredibly inappropriate sense of humor and because I suspect he was imagining my blood in the bags.
***************
And in other news, it’s time for the weekly wrap-up:
What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “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 sponsored by The Rheel Daze. From the author: “What happens when instead of pursuing your dreams in your twenties, you settle for every bottle of Bacardi you can get your hands on? You end up trying again in your thirties, with half the fervor you possessed a decade ago. That’s Kelly. Still chasing the dream…but at a comfortable pace.”
