Harvey. Such an asshole.

It’s late but I can’t sleep because I’m watching  timelines and texts from hundreds of friends affected by Harvey.  We lived in Houston through many hurricanes, storms, and floods but I’ve never seen anything like this.  I’m watching friends lose their houses and I’m also watching friends out rescuing strangers.  It’s breaking my heart and making my heart whole and then making me want to airlift everyone out of rain and into my house where we can binge watch tv and snuggle small animals.  But I can’t do that so instead I’m going to link to a few places that give great resources and ways to help.

How to help people affect by Hurricane Harvey.

And this one:

Hurricane Harvey: Here’s How to Help.

And a giant thank you to those who are helping.  To those who donate, who rescue, who care, who sleep at work for days because they are needed, who stay strong for others even when they are breaking.  I’m sending love.  And donations.  And more love.  If you want to leave suggestions in the comments for organizations that are needing help you can.  (The Red Cross is great and I just gave them another donation tonight but there are also a lot of other organizations that are helpful and stick around after Red Cross is gone.)

Back to funny stuff soon.  Just needed to get this out.

From flattered to offended to confused in under 5 seconds.

Y’all.  I was at the post office picking up my mail and the very young clerk helping me suddenly became transfixed and started moaning loudly while looking at my chest.  Like slack-jawed and audibly groaning loud enough that other people started looking and I thought, “Wow.  My boobs have never had this effect on a man before so I guess I should be flattered but I’m also offended because YOU ARE CREEPING ME OUT, SIR, AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND TO THIS.

So I bent at the knees a little so that my boobs would be under the counter separating us but it didn’t help and the guy’s hands were trembling and he asked, “Did you donate blood?” and that’s when I realized that he was actually looking at the bandage around my arm from having blood work this morning and that I’d bled through the cotton ball and onto the gauze wrap, but before I could answer he turned pale and yelled, “I NEED TO GO SIT DOWN” and sprinted to the back room.  And then I felt very relieved but also a tiny bit disappointed that my boobs didn’t suddenly have the power to render a man speechless.  But then I reminded myself that I basically made someone almost pass out using only my inner elbow and that’s pretty impressive in itself.

PS.  My boobs aren’t on my elbows.  I just had my arm up on the counter to sign for the packages.  It’s weird that I feel I have to clarify that.

PPS. I just got a call from my doctor about the blood work from last week and turns out my liver is still fucked up from the TB meds so I have to go on an additional medication (22 pills a day currently – a new, terrible record) to try to protect my liver and I also have to move from “under 3 alcoholic drinks a week” to “under zero alcoholic drinks a week” and I was like, “But can I still do heroin?” and she said, “Of course.  I’m not going to make you give up carbs, sugar, alcohol AND heroin.  I’m not a monster.”  And that’s how I know that I have a good doctor.  Because she gets my sense of humor.  Not that she approves heroin.

Anyway, the news could be worse but it still makes me a tiny bit weepy because I’m a bit overloaded from the last eight months of constant you’re-not-dead-yet-but-we-don’t-know-why-not diagnoses but then I opened the mail and it was filled with old buttons and lovely notes and books and I was reminded that it’s going to be okay and that at least I didn’t have a disorder that makes me pass out when I see other people’s elbows.

That I know of.


PPPS. For those of you who missed the button discussion on twitter, I collect them.  Then I pretend that my hands are Scrooge McDuck and the buttons are gold coins.  It is incredibly relaxing.  I’ll make a new video soon.

PPPPS.  For those of you asking, yes, I will happily take your unsorted handfuls of unwanted buttons if you don’t want them.  Here’s my address: TheBloggess.com   /   14546 Brook Hollow Blvd. #400   /   San Antonio TX, 78232.

WTF, me. #solareclipse2017

You know how on Friday I wrote about how we couldn’t find any eclipse glasses? Well I decided to go old-school and make a pinhole camera and then this happened:

PS. No makeup, sweaty, hair in a pony tail, being (adorably) mocked by my child while WEARING A BOX ON MY HEAD.  I am the antithesis of every shiny and perfect instagram selfie.  WORTH IT.

PPS.  That is not even the most embarrassing part of this story.  I’m saving that for my next book.  It’s that horrific.

I just wanted to stare at the sun. Is that so wrong?

So the solar eclipse is in a few days and I waited too long so all the glasses you can view the sun with are sold out.  I went to Amazon to see the safest thing that was still available to stare at the sun behind and they were like, “YEAH.  HOW ABOUT SOME BLACK-OUT CURTAINS”.

The good news though is that when everyone else is looking up at the sky I’ll be able to keep my eyes out for the lizard man:

Don’t tell me there’s no such thing as the lizard man.  It’s all I’m clinging to at this point.


Birds get away with everything.

I wonder if birds ever hear songs on the radio and then chirp those songs and then the other birds are like, “OMG, FRANK.  THAT SONG IS AMAZING.  I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU CAME UP WITH THAT YOURSELF” and then Frank is like, ‘I’m glad I’m a bird and can’t talk so there’s no reason to let everyone know that I didn’t make this song up myself” and then later the other birds hear “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” on a radio and they’re like, “WHOA.  EVEN THE HUMANS ARE SINGING FRANK’S SONG NOW.  WTF.”  And then Frank becomes the most popular bird ever even though he’s totally a poser.

Slightly related:  Yesterday there was a bird outside and he looked hungry so I tossed him a bit of my scrambled egg and after he ate it I realized that eggs come from birds (and vice versa) and so I may have just forced a bird into cannibalism.

PS. For the first time since Sunday I feel mostly human and can sit upright for more than 15 minutes at a time.  CELEBRATE THE SMALL THINGS, Y’ALL.

PPS. I was watching bird videos on youtube and now Hunter S. Thomcat is convinced there is a bird inside my computer:

I was watching a video of a bird and now Hunter S Thomcat won't quit it.

A post shared by Jenny Lawson (@thebloggess) on

PPPS.  This was the video that sent him over the top:

PPPPS.  As requested, HST dance remix here.

When do the cyborg bodies get here?

I’ve been a bit MIA lately so here’s a quick update about where I am and what I’m doing.

I had a severe allergic reaction that made me vomit for 10 straight hours and I don’t recommend it.  I developed an allergy to brazil nuts this year and now it’s so bad that even a sliver makes my body turn inside out and my doctor was like, “Hey, interesting trivia that might kill you:  Brazil nuts are the only allergies that are sexually transmitted.”  And I was like, “Awesome.  So I have a severe allergy AND an STD?” and she explained that I couldn’t give the allergy to other people but that if I had sex with someone who ate brazil nuts I could have a severe allergic reaction because apparently brazil nuts come out of your semen.  Not whole, I mean.  That would probably be noticeable.  But enough to send you into shock if you have sex with someone full up on brazil nuts.

This seems like something that should be known since some people have deadly nut allergies and I suggested an ad campaign like, “Keep nuts out of your nuts” but my doctor said it probably wouldn’t fly because the people who make brazil nuts wouldn’t be pleased and I was like, “I’M NOT GOING TO LET BIG NUTS KEEP ME DOWN.”  And she looked at me weird and I explained that the people who owned tobacco were “Big Tobacco” so the nut people were probably “Big Nuts” and she nodded and probably wrote a note to herself to stop accepting my insurance.

I looked for a gif for “brazil nuts” and this is what they gave me. Seems fitting.

In other news about my body trying to kill me, I can’t take the injections for rheumatoid arthritis because of the latent tuberculosis that I probably only have because my autoimmune system is fairly non-existent because of the injections I take for rheumatoid arthritis, so I have to take a medicine to kill the tuberculosis but my doctor just checked my blood and the medication to kill the TB is fucking up my liver so I have to go back in for more tests to see if I need to go off the anti-tuberculosis meds which would mean I couldn’t take the RA meds keeping me out of a wheelchair because then I could get active tuberculosis.  I am a snake swallowing it’s own tail.  And also I’m allergic to snakes.  Additionally, the pill cam data came back and the doctor was like, “You’re all fucked up but we still don’t know where all your missing blood is going.  Your stomach looks gross though and you have ulcers.”  Probably from the stress of all these tests.  Long story short, my body is trying to kill me and I want a replacement.  Or a cyborg body.  I’m not picky.

PS. I’m fine.  A little pathetic and very tired but it’s a relief to know the scarier things I was worried about seem to be okay.  Things could be worse and I think the meds (mainly supplements, vitamins) the doctor has had me on for the past 3 months are helping.  And I’ve lost almost 25 pounds on this horrible low-carb, low-sugar diet the doctor forced me to go on so I almost look like the person I photoshop myself to be on the internet.

PPS.  AND my hard drive broke last week but Apple just fixed it and Victor backed it up and the books I was working on are there!  I was so relieved I cried a little.

Give me something to read

I’m working on my next book and when I get stuck I read something brilliant to inspire me, so today I’m asking you to share your favorite book ever in the comments.  The one that you read over and over and feel so jealous of other people when they say that they haven’t read it yet.

I have a lot, but my go-to book is Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales.

And possibly that’s cheating because it’s a bunch of his books sqwooshed together but I don’t care because it’s fantastic.

Your turn.  What’s the one book you always go back to over and over?

PS. Apparently today is #bookloversday, which is nice, but isn’t every day book lovers day for people who love books?  It’s like having #oxygenappreciationday or #nationalthankgodwearenotonfireday.  Maybe it’s just me.


A couple of months ago I read that Samantha Bee made Time magazine’s 100 Most Influential People of 2017 and I was like, “WHAT.  SHE WORE MY NIPPLE ON HER FACE ONCE!” and then the strangers in line with me at the grocery store backed away quickly and I realized that I should maybe work on my phrasing.  Then I tried to explain that it was a lucky prosthetic nipple someone gave me during my first book tour and that I was wearing it poking out of my dress at a conference because it’s a nice way to see if people care enough about you to point out that you have a nip-slip, and also it distracts them from all the other dumb stuff you’re doing.  Samantha passed the test and was like, “Nice nipple” and so I peeled off my nipple to show her it wasn’t real and she licked it and stuck it on her forehead while we finished our drinks.

But then I couldn’t find any pictures or even remember who I was with so this happened so I went to twitter:

And then I finally decided I must have just imagined it but my friend Karen just texted me: “I FOUND THE PHOTOGRAPH OF SAMANTHA BEE WITH YOUR NIPPLE ON HER FOREHEAD.”  And now I’m very relieved because I was starting to think I was going crazy but here’s a picture of one of the most influential people in America wearing my nipple on her face while we were day drinking and I’m pretty sure that proves that I’m perfectly normal.


I have so many questions.

Note: I’m an idiot.

So I have pneumonia again because of course I do and nothing is cutting this cough so today my doctor gave me some cough syrup and my first question was, “Why does it say ‘This is a RED LIQUID’ on the bottle?

Hunter S. Tomcat was intrigued as well.

And so I asked twitter and they were like, “I dunno.  Why does it say ‘Do not use on eyelashes’ on my flat iron?” which just gave me more questions.  But then a lot of people explained that it was to make sure you got the correct medicine from your pharmacist but the liquid is actually pink (like Strawberry Hill or blush box wine) so then I was paranoid that I’d been given poison, but my pharmacy never even has my antidepressants in stock so I doubt they’d have a bunch of poison handy.

But then it got even more complicated because it said “TAKE 10MLS BY MOUTH” but I don’t have a syringe to measure how much that is so I yelled, “HOW MUCH IS 10 MILLILITERS? at Victor and he was like, “Ten milliters of what?” and I was like, “I mean, 10 milliliters of anything?  Codeine juice, I guess?” because I just wanted to know how many teaspoons is in a milliliter, and also why is this even in milliliters?  Am I in Canada?  Because I paid too much for this medicine if so, and it’s not fair that I have to pay for healthcare and do math too.  And Victor was like, “WTF IS ‘CODEINE JUICE’ AND WHY ARE YOU PRICING IT?” and then I gave up explaining and went to the internet and Google was like, “I CAN HELP.  A MILLILITER IS .002 PINTS” which was not helpful at all.

But then when I did finally work out the conversion it didn’t matter because I couldn’t find the measuring spoons so I went online to find out if the spoons you use to stir tea are the same size as teaspoons (answer: not necessarily) but there was an image that you could use if you didn’t have measuring spoons that showed you how much a teaspoon of salt looked like in your cupped palm so I poured that much into my hand and then I considered spooning the syrup out of my hand to take it but then I’d have to wash the spoon so instead I just drank it out of my hand and then Victor walked by and was like, “Seriously?  THIS IS WHY YOU GET EVERY COLD.  YOU ARE LICKING YOUR OWN HAND.”  And that’s true, but technically I was licking medicine off my hand so I’m pretty sure that makes this whole thing moot.

PS. Victor vehemently disagrees and is currently buying me measuring spoons because he says my method is ridiculous and probably unsafe but I was actually supposed to have two handfuls of codeine juice (based on my math) and I only took one, so technically I was being conservative and responsible.  Victor disagrees on all counts.

PPS.  Spellcheck is insisting that “milliliter” is not even a real word and for once I feel like spellcheck has my back.  It also is telling me that it doesn’t know what “spooning” is either and now I just feel a bit sorry for it and I suspect it’s hitting on me.

#NationalColoringBookDay is a real thing, apparently.

So first of all, THANK YOU for yesterday. You were fantastic and distracting and I highly recommend reading the comments because they are magic. The Apple people say my hard drive is borked but they think they can fix it by next week and that my back-up will have saved all my stuff. Tentative yay?

According to twitter, today is #NationalColoringBookDay so I’m giving away a few copies of YOU ARE HERE: An Owner’s Manual for Dangerous Minds if you need one. Just tell me if you want one in the comments and I’ll email you if you win.