If you don’t use Facebook just ignore this. It’s just an FYI I wish I’d known before.
I’ve had a couple of people recently ask me why I don’t blog anymore and that seemed weird because I’ve never stopped blogging but they insisted that they hadn’t seen anything from me on Facebook in forever and Victor also said he never sees my posts on Facebook saying that I have a new blog post out and I assumed they were just crazy but I thought I’d do an experiment just to see if Facebook was hiding my posts with links to my blog.
I posted two posts at the same time asking people to “like” if they saw it in their feeds. They were identical except one also had a link to my blog. Within four minutes the post without the link had 5 times more likes than the one with the link and Facebook was like, “This post is doing better than 95% of the other posts on your page so you should pay us to get it out to more people” and that seems ironic since it was a post showing that Facebook was kinda being a dick, but whatever.
Final numbers 2 days later:
Post with a link in it ~ 4.4k likes. (Facebook says 26k people reached)
Post without a link in it ~ 12k likes. (Facebook says 57k people reached.)
Lovely people who understand Facebook more than I do explained it’s an algorithm issue because Facebook doesn’t want to show stuff that has links because it makes you leave Facebook, but that you can get around it a bit by instead putting the link in the first comment of the post, so I tried that and asked people to “like” if they saw it and it got 9.4k likes (66k people reached). That seems pretty definitive. I decided to share this with you in case you’re having the same issues, although probably by the time I write this Facebook will also find a way to hide any posts that links in the comments too or just erase me from existence. Hard to tell.
Victor is finally home from Japan and I didn’t set the house on fire or eat any of our pets while he was gone. Yay for the small things!
He always comes back from his annual trip with weird gifts that make him think of me and this time he pulled this stuffed toy sparrow at of his bag and I was like, “This bird has the dopiest look on its face” and Victor was like, “Well yeah. That’s why it made me think of you,” and I’m not sure if he’s trying to be insulting but it doesn’t matter because it makes me laugh every time I look at it. It’s the same look I have right after the waitress says, “Enjoy your meal” and I say, “YOU TOO!”
“PEOPLE! RUN AWAY!” ~ this bird
I put the bird next to the stuffed slow loris Victor brought me last year (that would never sit up straight):
“I’M A HUGGER. AND A SUFFOCATOR.” ~ this slow loris.
But then I realized that I could use Slow Cloris Leachman’s little wire arms to hug Sparrow Agnew and that way they’d prop each other up and then they’re suddenly perfect together and they look so awkwardly happy and weirdly uncomfortable.
“Look away. Weird things are about to happen. This is private.” ~ these guys
Like, no one would have thought to put them together but they fit, JUST LIKE ME AND VICTOR, you know? And Victor said he didn’t entirely know what I was on about but said he’d agree with me if I just stopped talking and I was like, “THAT IS SUCH A SLOW CLORIS LEACHMAN THING TO SAY” and then Victor said it looked more like the slow loris was just really excited about capturing a bird and eating its face off, and the sparrow looked like she was drunk and pretending really hard not to be drunk. Which is also a lot like us. ROMANCE!
I don’t have an end to this post.
Victor is still in Japan so life is still weird and I’m continuing to share my daily journey with him on instagram.
Quick flashback to three days ago if you have been dunk since then (no judgement):
Today the shop selling the golden chicken was open so I decided to see much it was even though Victor was not entirely supportive. And then this happened:
So then I rushed in to find out who had sawed off Lindsay LoHen’s shackled foot to steal her away in the night but turns out that SOMEONE BOUGHT HER. And apparently several people had been fighting over her because the shop lady was like, “Wait. Were you the woman who was going to paint the paint the chicken black and put it at the end of her street so you could tell people to turn left at the beautiful giant black c0ck?” and I was like, “No. But now I’m pretty sure my sister is in town and bought Lindsay LoHen.” Long story short, no golden chicken for me. Unless Victor bought her as a surprise and is picking her up on the way home. Which seems unlikely.
Insert sad trombone noise here.
BUT the shop lady said that she could order another one, however there can be only one Lindsay LoHen so I asked if there were any other giant metal things…like maybe a trex? She’s looking into it. There is always hope, y’all.
And now…time for the weekly wrap-up!
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 Treehut.co, which is the perfect way to give a sentimental gift without trying at all. Treehut.co is a California based company making unique and engravable wooden watches to show either your love or your hate. IT IS UP TO YOU. So when you forget an anniversary or need a great gift for your graduation nephew in a hurry, Treehut.co is a fantastic option that will make you look thoughtful even though we all know you just forget. You should check them out here, especially because they have a good sale on now.
So it’s day 6 of Victor being out of the country and leaving me to be an adult so today I changed the vent filter in my office and it was horrifying because IS THAT WHAT MY LUNGS LOOK LIKE? Also, I wasn’t sure if I had the filter turned in the right direction and I couldn’t entirely close the vent cover back up but I still felt pretty grown up until suddenly I smelled something totally on fire.
And I went outside and there was thick smoke everywhere but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was like Stephen King’s The Mist but with fewer monsters and I was pretty sure it wasn’t coming from my house but I couldn’t tell for sure so I called security and said, “Hey. So…how would I know if my house is on fire?” and the security guy was like, “Ma’am?” and I explained that there was smoke everywhere and he said, “Oh, that’s all over the neighborhood. It’s fine. It’s just a controlled garbage fire” and I was like, “Oh my God, ‘controlled garbage fire’ has been my whole year, dude.”
So long story short, I did not start any major fires today.
Victor left for Japan this weekend so that means I have to be an adult this week and I promised him that while he was gone I would yell at myself to meet my business deadlines and throw away the cheese wrappers on the counter and a variety of other things that I forgot almost immediately. I am however, keeping him in the loop through my instagram:
I didn’t actually buy the teddy bear though because when I tried to put it on the check-out lane it didn’t fit and as it went down the conveyor belt he knocked over a shitload of magazines and Juicy Fruit and people were staring and I was like, “JESUS, BEARY MANILOW. I CAN’T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE. YOU HAVE TO STOP DAY DRINKING” and then I ran away.
I don’t know if this is a real word or just a small child learning how to curse but it was scratched really high so I think it was either an adult or a baby with a knife standing on the sink. Also, I like how the mirror gives me holes in my hands like Jesus.
Life is an adventure, y’all.
Hailey: Today at school we talked about the gender gap against female pirates.
Hailey: It’s very male-dominated and also men make more, which is totally not cool.
me: I mean, I guess there are probably more male pirates than female pirates.
me: But honestly I’m just not sure that being a pirate is even an occupation I’d want more representation in.
Hailey: Why are you talking about pirates?
me: Me? You’re the one talking about pirates.
Hailey: What? PILOTS. We talked about the gender gap against PILOTS. Pirates don’t even exist.
me: Oh. That makes more sense. And also pirates totally exist. Terrible, sexist pirates.
So today I got new glasses.
They look almost exactly like my old glasses because I’m very boring and don’t like change but the lenses are stronger because I’m also very old and read in the dark too much.
So I’m walking around and everything looks slightly off and warped and sharp but actually it’s because things are suddenly clear and I’m just not used to it. I’ve gotten so used to the blurry that when things are in focus they’re almost too clear. Like I’m being shouted at by my eyes. And it struck me as a very good analogy because it’s very similar to how I feel when I come out of a depression.
Suddenly my tunnel vision fades and there is more sun. Things I couldn’t concentrate on before are obvious. The things I ignored because they faded away during the darker times are suddenly clear and obvious and demanding my attention. And it’s great. But also disorienting. And wonderful. And terrifying.
I stopped at a rosebush next to the eyeglass place and I was struck at how clear and sharp and beautiful the roses were. The same ones I’d walked by only a few minutes ago and had ignored. I was literally stopping to smell the roses, except instead of smelling I was instagramming them but I still felt the meaning of the moment
And I held one up to capture it on camera and it was lovely and it reminded me to appreciate these moments when things are so clear and vivid and good.
And then I looked even deeper at the subtle details I take for granted and I screamed, “WHAT THE FUCK. THERE’S A SPIDER” and then the spider ran onto my hand and I yelled: “THERE’S A SPIDER ON ME. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST GET IT OFF WHEREDIDITGO WHYISTHISHAPPENING?“And the two small children eating ice cream on the bench near me just stared as I jumped around slapping myself to trying to make the spider (which was now invisible and probably laying eggs in me) fall off of me and then I couldn’t find the spider even on the ground and I thought maybe I needed even stronger glasses but then I realized that the strong glasses led to this problem in the first place and maybe I was better off when I was ignoring roses and unable to see spiders crawling all over me and that fucked up all my metaphors and so I just took a deep breath and said, “Take care of your eyes while you still can” to the small kids and then their mom looked at me even more warily and I realized that maybe that sounded like a threat so I added, “Like, don’t read at night without good lighting. It ruins your eyes. And eat your carrots.” And the mom was like, “Yeah. That’s what I always tell you kids, right?” and I was happy to help, although I’m fairly sure the kids didn’t understand the connection between spider attacks and protecting your vision but they had ice cream so they just shrugged and went back to eating.
This post had a point but I lost it. I blame spiders.
Dear charitable organizations who inexplicably keep sending me money: FUCKING STOP IT.
Is it just me? I get all these letters asking for money but there are pennies and nickels glued to the requests and I guess that it’s supposed to prove that it only takes 9 cents a day to not kill cats or something, but I’m not going to give you money because CLEARLY YOU SUCK AT HANDLING IT. You need money and you’re sending it to me. WTF. I don’t want money from orphans or dogs on death row. I’ve gotten probably six dollars in guilt change this year and it only serves to remind me not to donate to you anymore because 1) this feels super manipulative and 2) is the money I gave you last year being used to send guilt change to everyone else? Am I part of the problem? Because that money has to come from somewhere.
Also you all stick the coins on the letter with this grey goop that I have to scrape off and I want to just throw it away but I can’t because my grandmother said throwing change away is bad luck so I have to open the envelope and wash the gunk off your guilt change, and then there are pictures of orphans and disappointed Jesuses glaring at me while I do it, like, “So you’re going to just take the money from orphans? Really?” And yeah, I guess I am because you certainly can’t be trusted not to throw it into envelopes to give to people who clearly don’t need it. Also, pennies are germy and gross me out. They live in the bottom of purses until they gets stuck to lose hard candy and then they get covered with a layer of sticky lint scum and then eventually you get grossed out when the pennies get stuck to your keys and then you throw the whole purse away. Pennies are garbage money and everyone knows it.
Also, while I’m being bitchy to people who are trying to help others can I just add that I don’t want anymore notepads reminding me how many people die of starvation each day, or cards with cats having some sort of lobotomy. I don’t want that. NO ONE WANTS THAT. (Also, PETA, you’ve sent me the cat lobotomy cards twice in the same year and it’s starting to lose its shock value, although actually I can’t complain too much because I totally used one as a Christmas card to someone I don’t like.)
Conclusion: I am a terrible person and I’d like you to stop sending me money proving that.
Today is Dorothy Barker’s birthday and she is three. That means in dog years she is 21 today and is now technically able to drink. And that makes me jealous because I’m still not allowed to drink because of tuberculosis so now my dog has more freedoms than I do. And then Victor was like, “First of all, how did you even manage to make this all about you?” and then he told me I wasn’t allowed to give Dorothy Barker a celebration drink and I was like, “I’m not giving the dog booze, Victor. She can’t day drink alone. That’s how alcoholism starts.” And Victor didn’t agree with my reasoning but the end result was the same so he gave up and instead I just gave her a surprise party, which consisted of me yelling “SURPRISE, BITCH! IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!” and Dorothy Barker was like:
“OH MY GOD, YOU REMEMBERED?!” ~ Dorothy Barker
Just kidding. Actually she looked a little confused because she doesn’t speak English, but I think she genuinely appreciated my excitement and/or the bull penis in my hand.
Happy birthday, Dorothy Barker.
PS. This is Dorothy Parker back when I thought her name was “Knives.” It was a phase we both grew out of.
PPS. The bull penis wasn’t for me. It’s for my dog. It’s weird that I need to clarify that. I realize pet stores call them “bully sticks” or “pizzle sticks” but they’re totally dried bull penises and I believe in calling a rose a rose and you need to know that your dog is chewing on bull penises. After they’ve been chopped up and turned into jerky, I mean. Not, like in the wild. That would be crazy and probably very dangerous for both dogs and bulls. This has been your unrequested educational announcement of the day.