Honestly I might be better mistranslated.

Furiously Happy continues to find an audience in China and that means that I get tagged in a lot of weird things that possible don’t translate well.  Mostly they’re reviews but when I use google translate it’s wonderfully entertaining:

Makes you wish she was your super super good friend. – Entertainment Weekly

She will let you spray coke out of her nose. – Parade

Jenny’s story will make you laugh, but in fact you know that you shouldn’t laugh so arbitrarily, otherwise you may laugh all the way to hell, so perhaps you shouldn’t read this book. You have to think about your personal safety. It would be wise. – Neil Gaiman, author of The American Gods

I can’t express how deeply Jenny poked me.  – American Reader’s Review

Her sunny vernacular became a chicken butt soup….Fun angle. Interesting soul. ~ Amazon top review

I want all of these blurbs on my next book.

Even crazier than normal.

I’ve been a bit off-center (more so than usual) for the past few days and I’m not sure if it’s because of the moon or the world or my brain chemicals but I do know that even people I know who don’t deal with mental illness are feeling weird right now and people I know with mental illness seem to be (like me) manic or depressed or filled with dread and anxiety and want to rip their skin off.

That is very depressing but it’s also comforting because seeing that so many of us are in this low place is a good reminder that the wave will rise again and we will rise with it.  It’s a reminder that not all of the emotions we may be feeling right now are real even if they feel real.  It’s a warning to those of us who may do stupid things when we feel desperate.  It’s a comfort to those who have to deal with us who can assure themselves that we’ll be back to normal soon and that they are saints for dealing with our crazy.  It’s a chance to practice ignoring the lies that your brain tells.

And it’s an opportunity to celebrate the lovely things that help you cope during times like these.  In the comments tell me the things that pull you out of the dark…whether they’re tools or quotes or books or routines.  Just share one.  And then find one in the comments and go do that thing.

Here’s my pulls-me-out-of-the-darkness thing for today:


There are a million of them so you can find the ones that speak to you but personally I like the ones that tell me a story.  Especially if it’s a true story that takes me out of my head.  When my brain is so broken I can’t concentrate on even reading it’s like someone is reading to me.  And if I can do nothing else I can listen to one with Hailey or be distracted by it until I’m myself again.

Here’s a list of a few of my favorites:

Reply All
The Habitat
Unhappy Hour with Matt Bellassai
My Favorite Murder
Ear Hustle
Dear Hank and John
Every Little Thing
Family Ghosts
Star Talk
Heaven’s Gate
Someone Knows Something
Finding Cleo
The Grift
The Hilarious World of Depression
This American Life
This is actually happening (This one is fascinating but I can’t listen to when I’m in a dark place, so trigger warning)
Done Disappeared (If you listen to true crime podcasts it’s fantastic)
Inside Psycho
Inside The Exorcist
Secrets (from Radiotopia)
Love + Radio
Mission to Zyxx
Welcome to NightVale
My Dad Wrote a Porno

If my head was working properly I’d link to all of these but if you look them up you’ll find them.

Your turn.

PS. I don’t have a graphic for this so instead please accept this video of a bat that is SHOCKINGLY adorable.

How adorable is #Batzilla So happy it's Friday! #clapyourwings

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The first meeting of the Bloggess Book Club

Remember when we started a book club but then I forgot about it?  Well I remembered again so today we’re totally doing it.  Get your wine out.

Our first book club read was The Haunted Vagina by Carlton Mellick III and IMHO it was pretty amazing.

(Also, some people seem to think that IMHO means “In My Honest Opinion” but those people are super wrong because the H stands for “Humble” and it always has so quit it.)

I shared few of my favorite excerpts from the book on instagram but most of the best ones contains spoilers so you’ll have to read them for yourself.

Part 2 of #bloggessbookclub. Details on the blog.

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Overall, I give The Haunted Vagina four out of five stars.  My only complaint is that it was too short and that Victor wouldn’t let me read it out loud to him in bed.

Next up for Bloggess Book Club?  Every Time We Meet at the Dairy Queen Your Whole Fucking Face Explodes.

We shouldn’t be allowed out of the house, part eleventy million.

Whenever I’m stressed out Victor takes me to a no-kill shelter so I can hold cats but he gets bored easily so he does this game where he says totally inappropriate things to me with a completely straight face to see if he can get strangers to either laugh or throw us out and whichever one of us bails on the conversation first loses.

Our most recent visit:

Victor:  My grandma said she’d be reincarnated as a cat but I can’t find her?  Are any of these cats named “meemaw?”  (Pokes at cats)  Meemaw?  Is that you? (Turns to volunteer.)  I’m sorry.  She said she’d be here.

me:  You know “meemaw” wasn’t her given name, right?

Victor: Oh my God, now I’ve got to start all over again.  My mom called her “Mother”.  Mother?  Is that you, mother?

me: Much better.

Victor:  This one looks like a serial pooper.

me:  Why would he poop cereal?

Victor:  No, a SERIAL pooper.  Look.  He keeps pooping outside his litter box.  I will name him Dumpledore.  Ooh – look at this juicy one!  Lots of blood in him.

Me: Is that good?

Victor:  You’re not going to win a cat show with a bloodless cat.

me:  Fair enough.  You know what’s better than one cat?  Two cats.  Can you get a cat stuffed in a cat?  Like a turducken but with just cats?  What’s it called if it’s a cat in a cat?

Victor:  I think it’s called “pregnant”.  Gross.  I want the opposite of that.  Hey, are any of these cats virgins?  It’s not for a sacrifice.  I just don’t want to touch any sullied cats.  HEY, WHERE ARE THEIR WINGS?  WHO TOOK YOUR WINGS, GUYS?  WHY WON’T YOU MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ME?  WHO HURT YOU?

me: (coughing to hide my laughter)

Victor:  Is this cat named “Smelly Butthole”?  Because it should be.  Unless…oh wait.  That’s me.  SORRY EVERYBODY,  THAT’S ME.


Victor:  I forgot we were playing.

And this is why we stay married.

Related: Apparently I have a thing called “too-many-cats” so I can only pet homeless cats (and stuff donations in their boxes so that we don’t get banned forever) but you totally seem like you need a cat.  These are all available for adoption at San Antonio Pets Alive:

PS.  Clarification: I stuff donations in the donation boxes for the cats.  I do not stuff things in cat’s boxes.  Ew.  Stop it.

Happy Whatever.

I wrote this years ago but it’s still just as valid today.

Today is Mother’s Day, and while I think that being a mom is a crazy-hard job it’s also one that most of us wouldn’t trade for the world, so it’s always been a bit odd to me that we get to be mothers and we also get a day to celebrate it. Not that I’m judging you. Celebrate the hell out of yourself. You deserve it.

But you know who else deserves it? The women who have struggled to be, or are still struggling to be moms. The women who want children but just aren’t in a safe place in life to have them. The women who don’t want kids and have to listen to a bunch of bullshit about how you’re only worthwhile if you’ve pushed a human out of your vagina. The women who miss the children they once had. The women who miss the children they lost before they ever met them. The women who gave up their children so their child could have a better life than they could provide. The women who were raised motherless, or with shitty mothers, or who have lost their mothers and are reminded of how alone they feel. Mother’s Day is a confusing, weird, very-seldom-wrapped-up-with-a-nice-commercial-bow sort of day, and as for me, I salute you all – mothers or not…you’re here. You’re alive. You continue to survive. You are worthwhile and wonderful. Never forget that.

No matter where you are in life, whether you’re a mother or a father or neither or both, take this day to honor the person that you are and the path that you are on.  Because it is worth celebrating.

Dead Happy World’s Brightest Leopard Depression Sufferer

Yesterday I shared the bizarre news that Furiously Happy is a bestseller in China and then I asked if anyone could translate the billboards and posters advertising Furiously Happy and it was glorious.

PS. It feels only fair that the English part of the Chinese poster has a typo.  Now I want this poster.  It makes me Furiously Flappy.

Love always, the World’s Brightest Leopard

Well that’s just surreal.

So the Chinese version of Furiously Happy was recently published and for some reason they gave Rory a head band which seems weird but it’s obviously working because I just found out that Furiously Happy is a National Bestseller in China.  So much so that they can’t keep it in stock.

WTF, y’all.

And to make it even more surreal, I just got these pictures from Dook in China.  I don’t know your last name, Dook, but you are my special favorite person…


Hang on…

Wait for it.

That last picture?  That’s my 40 foot tall dead raccoon waving wildly to people on the other side of the world.  And also part of Dook’s thumb.  I’m almost positive that this is some sort of fever dream or that I’m in a coma.

So far this is my favorite coma.

PS. If you read Chinese can you tell me what these posters say?  I’m assuming something like, “Y’ALL, THIS BITCH IS CRAZY.  READ THIS AND FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF.”  True in any language.

People who don’t word good, part 3.

Remember last week when people shared how hilarious dumb we all are?  I shared a few of my favorites in part 1 and part 2 but I forgot to share the final collection so here you go:

You like me. Even when I don’t like myself.

This weekend I was at the 10th annual Mom 2.0 Summit and (as usual) it was wonderful and filled with fantastic people and also terrifying anxiety attacks.  I spent a lot of time hiding in my room but I did speak with these wonderful women about Imposter Syndrome.

Laura Mayes, Katherine Center, Karen Walrond and me. I’ve loved them for more than 10 years and we have never stabbed each other. Squad goals.

And I had a panic attack before the panel and small anxiety attacks during it and I babbled and I brought a sack of hair to wear because I get sweaty when I’m scared and my hair is too thin so I needed more hair to soak up the sweat so I wore a fake hair head band but then defeated the whole purpose of having fake hair by pulling it off numerous times in the panel to show how it works and I doubted everything I said and I felt like a fraud even being up there but that really just proves how well-suited I was to the topic.

Then I hated myself for a bit in my room until it was time to go to the Iris Awards but I didn’t have anyone there who could zip me up so I had to wander the halls holding my dress up in front of me until a friend took pity on me.  But then I won an award for most entertaining content!  And I was utterly unprepared as I’d spent the day feeling terrible about myself so when I got onstage I cried a little and I couldn’t think of what to say so I used the moment to apologize to the women whose boob I’d accidentally grabbed a few minutes earlier when I was pointing behind me and her boob walked into my hand and I yelled “This one’s for you, lady!” as I thrust my trophy into the air.  And then I stole a bottle of champagne and went back to my room to stop shaking but there wasn’t anyone there to unzip me so I tried to pull the dress off over my head and it got stuck on my boobs and I couldn’t breathe and I thought it would be totally like me to die with my dress over my head, suffocated by my own front-meat and then I panicked and hulked out and ripped the zipper entirely.  So, if I have a brand I definitely stuck to it fully.

(Picture by the always wonderful Wendi Aarons.)

And the next morning in the airport I thought that maybe this award is a sign that I need to stop feeling so terrible about myself and maybe have a little more confidence and stop listening to my self-loathing brain, and then they called for my group number and I stood up quickly but my purse strap was caught on the chair handle and so it slammed me back into my seat so violently I involuntarily farted and everyone stared at me because it looked like I’d been tackled by a ghost. And after my breath came back I just loudly said, “Wrong group number” so they’d look away.  And as I sat there and pretended that I was in the next group I thought that maybe being body-checked by my own purse was probably a sign too because honestly you can’t fix Imposter Syndrome by just winning an award and it was as if the universe was like, “Take a seat, lady.  Literally.  Because you’re still totally fucking broken.”

And I am, but also I’m okay.  I’m both.  And that’s what makes me me.

PS.  Thank you for believing in me when I don’t believe in myself.  You don’t know how may times you’ve saved me…from me.


And on an entirely different subject, it’s time for the Sunday 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 StoryWorth.  “This year, give Mom a StoryWorth Book to preserve her stories. Each week, we’ll email her a question about her life – asking her to recount her favorite memory of her grandparents, the best advice she ever got, etc. All she has to do is reply with a story, which is forwarded to you and any other family members you invite. At the end of the year, her stories are bound in a beautiful keepsake book your family will cherish!”  I did this for my dad last year and it’s been fantastic to read all of his stories that might have been lost otherwise.  I highly recommend it and its super on sale now.



Never. Stop.


After I published yesterday’s post I was inundated with even more gold and I can’t not share some of the best ones here.