Someone in the comments just responded with “Oh Jenny, you sausage” and this is now my favorite term of endearment because it makes me laugh and also, I am mostly sausage. And so are you. Even if you’re vegan. Because sausage is made of ground up meat parts and organs and bones and intestines and things better left unmentioned and I’m made of all of that too. Except I’m not ground up yet. Although one day when I’m cremated I will be ground up so technically I think that means I’m future sausage. Or will be future sausage? I’m not sure which tense to use when it comes to sausage of the future.
I tried to explain all of this to Victor and he just stared at me like I was crazy so I explained how sausage is made and apparently he didn’t want to hear it but I’m a sharer and what I have to share is knowledge, Victor. And sausage. If I have any. And we used to have freezers full of it because my grandparents made piles of it once a year and I honestly thought that everyone’s grandparents ground up gross crap and stuffed it into intestine skins on their kitchen table but apparently it’s just a bohemian thing? But then Victor made me doubt that it had ever happened at all so I googled it and google was like, “You are totally right. As usual. Also, can we interest you in some edible collagen or some natural beef bung?” And no, google, you can’t. Stop it. We were cool and you made it weird.
Aaaanyway, I guess that’s why people always say “you don’t want to watch the sausage being made” because if I’m sausage that means you’d be watching me being made, which I think would mean watching me being conceived and no one needs that. I forgot where I was going with this but that’s to be expected because, hello? I’m mostly made of sausage.
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.):
- Ballerina Death Squad. It’s a long story. No death or ballerinas involved. Look at the page for the explanation. You’re in if you want to be.
- “I got this for a quarter at a garage sale. Makes good pubic hair. Made me think of you. ~ Darlene”
- You should read this thread.
- I’m only having one glass.
- Happy Lunar New Year, year. It’s the year of the rooster.
This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Nurture, a small woman-owned business. (The small woman is Annie.) The Nurture body care line is plant based, and everything is scented only with essential oils. While Nurture believes in the psychological benefits of essential oils, we don’t claim our products will cure cancer. Well, since a portion of sales of It’ll Be OK Calm Balm benefit St. Baldrick’s Foundation, and they fund pediatric cancer research, maybe that one. One can hope.
Nurture yourself. Nurture others. Be Kind. And read the instructions – they’re usually good for a laugh.
122 thoughts on “I am mostly sausage”
Read comments below or add one.
One of my father’s terms of endearment for me was Sausage. This makes me happy. Thank you.
Ha! Now I’m hungry. Don’t worry, I’m not hungry for you. That’s just weird. Besides, It’s broccoli and noodle soup night (which is totally NOT weird, and I get to know where all the stuff cums from)
The way you write and the way your mind works make me feel a little bit less alone. It helps me on days when things feel heavy. <3 I love this so much.
I am definitely mostly sausage. Spicy? Maybe? Yeah. I’ll go with that.
Sausages also have lots of lips, tongues and arse rims in them too 😃😋
I saw them use pork bung once on Chopped, just to mess with the chefs, but wouldn’t beef bung be too big and tough? I don’t really want to know who knows the answer, though.
Not just future sausage: future overcooked sausage. Now I’m sad, and need to switch to bacon for a while. Which will be a disappointing experience, because even though the internet assures me I love bacon above all things, it’s always been sausage for me.
Oh, and sometimes my husband calls me “you silly sausage.”
Weird coincidence, I’m writing a novel with a historical setting and just before I read this, I wrote about them preparing to make sausage. But – and let’s be clear about this – no Jenny’s were harmed in the making of that sausage.
A cow and a pig, however, did not fare as well….
I think Sausage is a great term of endearment. We call our dog, Fats Domino that all the time…”Come here you little Sausage.”
What I’ve learned is that you don’t want to watch sausage being made because it gets everywhere and covers the whole kitchen with pre-sausage materials and then your friend’s wife gets home and man is she pissed.
I have seen a pig slaughtered and have helped grind the meat for sausage and you are correct that it would be preferable to seeing most people being made.
Hi Jenny, It is entirely possible that you cannot do anything about this. But I keep trying to subscribe to your blog because I* love it*, and would really like to know when you put up a new post, but it never sends me the “confirmation email”. So, I click on the thing it says to click on if I don’t get the confirmation email, and it always says it cannot find any record of my email address ever having tried to subscribe, even though I try almost every single day. The thing is, this is most discouraging and is making me wonder if I in fact exist or if I am just a sad figment of someone else’s imagination. But I don’t know why anyone would spend time imagining someone like me. ANY way, if you can do anything about this, please try to do so…..and if you cant, I love you anyway and will continue to check here every day to see if you have posted anything new. Thanks.
(That’s weird. Have you tried doing it with a different browser? I assure you that you do exist and I love you. ~ Jenny)
I had to Google “beef bung.” Sometimes you’re akin to those #themoreyouknow PSAs from back in the day.
I call my twin boys either Sausage or Chicken, my daughter has always been Pickle. I’m pretty sure that’ll make a good sandwich.
I’m pretty sure the pre sausage term is Livestock.
Hehehe you got me to smile. Thank you for sharing. I am glad I read this. Also, must I say I loved the ending 🙂
Um. I almost hate to ask, but… is there such a thing as unnatural beef bung?
I have been reading a lot of historical romances recently, and in those books someone would definitely call you a “saucy baggage”. Which doesn’t really make sense either, because then you are a suitcase with barbecue sauce. Ick. Okay, you just keep your internal organs in place. Even if you might be future sausage.
Definitely spicy sausage!
Jenny, we’ve had such a hard time generating traction with our daughters yearly fundraiser this year for her terminal disease. If you could share her link to your fans I would so greatly appreciate it. I am not above groveling to people I follow that have a larger circle than me :p https://www.booster.com/for-the-love-of-khaos
I’d say that a good guideline would be NOT watching any meat products being made unless it’s two animals having sex, but even then….
I call my husband Sausage so you’re in good company.
Google is always weird, but I liked how you said it. And Ballerina Death Squad. Awesome. I love it and so wanna be in. Wouldn’t it be funny to have a I am a sausage club or something? Other people would be like they are calling themselves a guys junk? Oh.. Sausages..Oookkk. ha ha
What the world needs right now is more sausage (aka Jenny Lawson). All I have been able to do today is shake my head at the news and ask ”What in the fuck is going on?” Thanks for reminding me that I need to laugh and that all sausage is not just lips and assholes!
I totally want to go to the store right now and buy some veggie sausage but I’m not going to because today is my introvert kitty cuddle day (which is every day I can manage to avoid adulting really) and my cats would be offended if I broke plans and bought food they have no interest in eating… oh well. This post reminds me of the joke my father used to tell: “a sausage maker went to a proctologist and the proctologist said ‘come into my orifice’. ” he was upset about the joke though because he always felt there must be a funnier way for a proctologist and a sausage maker to interact, so for months our answering machine was “a sausage maker goes to his proctologist and says…” but no one ever finished the joke… maybe the bloggess tribe can help???
Wow- sorry my comment is so long, but in my defense, you said we were all sausage so this is a post about me so I had to make it more about me with this comment. ❤️
I have actually helped make sausage, and it’s not as yucky as you think. It’s food. Ground meat, with spices. And, you WASH the intestine casings!
Sausage is spicy and wonderful, and will probably kill you eventually. So yeah, we should all aspire to be sausage.
I’ll take a smoked sausage hold the beef bung. Every time I say sausage in my mind I say snausage.
I used to work in a butcher shop in Toronto and once made a balloon animal out of sausage casing. BECAUSE I CAN.
Kiszka… my Polish grandmother made blood sausage – duck blood and rice in an intestine. The smell was awful. I hope I am a kielbasa and not a kiszka.
I was called a Cabbage once and at first I was sort of pissed but after I thought about it I liked it. Cabbage is useful and you can stuff it with other stuff (stuff me with Toffifee please), and it lasts a long time. I also know that cabbage is loyal – I’ve never had one that cheated. And cabbage, as a food, doesn’t taste very good so I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone wanting to cannibalize me…..or BBQ me. I definitely like being a cabbage if my only other choice was a sausage. Each to his/her own though. :o)
Your glass is just silly. This is what you really want:
I swear to god every post or comment or any piece of writing at all that involves you is over the top and plain hilarious. 😂 I love this. Thank you for sharing.
Sausage, sugar dumpling, chooky egg, sweetie pie, they’re all good and all food related endearments I’ve used in the past with my kids!
At least Amazon didn’t try to sell you placenta so that’s a plus. But it’s probably in sausage too.
One of my ex’s friends used to make homemade sausage. The idea always both intrigued me and grossed me out.
Amazon only ever thinks I’ll be interested in bottles of laboratory-grade bovine serum, though. That would probably make for crappy sausage.
My great-grandparents made sausage in their kitchen when I was a child. It wasn’t link sausage though, it was more like patty sausage. Some of my best memories of being a child were sitting in that kitchen as the women of the family made and canned sausage for the winter.
Myfriend from New Zealand would refer to heher cat as “My little sausage” as a term of endearment. Perhaps the person who referred to you as a sausage was a Kiwi? Or perhaps a cannibal. Which is realllllllly creepy. So let’s just go with Kiwi, shall we?
A popular game with my elementary students is Sausage. Everyone takes turns trying to make one person laugh by asking them various questions, but the only answer the target is allowed to give is “sausage.”
What is your hair made out of?
What do you brush your teeth with?
What’s your sister’s name?
What is Jenny made of?
The best thing about this is I get to see what the date is by reading the posts.
Let’s be real, Jenny. It’s the year of the Cock.
Growing up my dad made us help make sausage every winter. So we had lots of it too. Not a bohemian thing. A country Texan thing.
Ballerina Death Squad is all kinds of awesome and they are now pirouetting in my head in their tutus & gas masks while threatening to cut me if I don’t draw them ASAP. Also, can I have my sausage on a pizza?
You’re in a pre-sausage state.
We are sausage futures.
Or meat popsicles.
And no one else was in the room where it happened. (Sorry, the line “how the sausage gets made” just made me burst into spontaneous “Hamilton” lyrics.) You adorable little sausage, you.
I’m really into all those cooking shows on the Food Network, so I’ve seen sausage being made and it totally doesn’t gross me out (anymore). But I now want someone to call me Sausage. That’s cute.
Why are people so all in on sausage, but hate haggis? It’s technically the same thing, but with soggy oatmeal–OK, maybe not technically the same thing, but when you eat haggis, you develop superpowers, like the ability to play the bagpipes. OK, maybe not a superpower. I have a friend who won’t eat meatballs because “they’re just sausages without the skin”. So maybe that’s what you are when you get cremated…
Ballerina Death Squad is an awesome band name. I’d buy their album…
Um not to be overly literal or anything but I assure you there are no bones in sausage. That would kill us. My husband and I butcher all of our own meat and making sausage is not that gross. I mean, factory farm sausage is gross… But we just put edible meat through our grinder… That’s not super dramatic I guess. Nonetheless you are probably still future sausage, with some extra organs and bones for good measure!
When I was a kid – ‘silly sausage’ was a sign of endearment pointing out someone’s naïveté, innocence of understanding or silliness … kinda like silly billy
I have always loved sausage, even though I DO know how it is made. It is a spicy delight…humm…wich seems to describe you to a “T”. Jenny! Victor does not have a clue how lucky he is!
IT’S THE YEAR OF THE COCK! It all makes sense. The year America gets dicked.
We are all amazing sausages. Question I would ask you is how spicy would you consider yourself? On the traditional salsa scale of mild, medium and hot. I would call myself medium. I’m middle of the road, always looking to cross over to hot but afraid to give the world indigestion.
wait. what is beef bung? wait. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.
Ha! Love this post! You crack me up! Thanks for sharing your sausage story with us! 🙂
It’s Beyonce’s year???? How awesome is that!!
Oh darn. Now I’m hungry and need to make supper. Except supper involves bacon. I would kill to be called bacon, because then everyone would love me and I’d be a cultural phenomenon. That sounds exhausting, though, so I’m glad I’d be dead.
My ex-fiance/current best friend is a butcher and he makes sausage pretty much all day. And takes orders/reservations for turkeys during the holidays, but don’t ask him to reserve you a turkey at any other point in the year because he’ll just glare at you. He’s got a lot of unresolved issues with turkeys, I guess.
Jenny your perfect never change. All of you here are wonderful and I adore you.
You know, I was just wondering where I could score some beef bung, and BOOM! There you are in my inbox. Thank you.
Speaking of sausage – I just got back from a trip to Scotland. Went there to avoid the inauguration – but that’s another story. In Scotland they have Haggis – which is all the ground up parts of pork that are left over after the regular meat is used. Most people (foreigners) hate haggis, but I’ve gotten to like it and had it twice while in Edinburgh this time. Jenny, if you haven’t had haggis, try it sometime. Haggis is banned in the U.S., but now I can’t remember why.
My dad always called me porkchop growing up…not because I was pudgy (I was). But because I too had crazy grandparents who butchered their own meat and made sausage. Grandpa was slicing up porkchops when I declared I hated pork (although I made an exception to sausage patties). So, I totally get how sausage could mean love, or you made me laugh…which this tale did.
That thread. Thank you for sharing, what a lovely story. <3
We had German neighbors when I was a small child and I have this vivid memory of an animal screaming all day! Mom said they were slaughtering a pig and I think they tortured the GD thing to death. Then later that day the neighbor woman came over with a bunch of sausage and Mom was all grateful! I’m telling you, it was like ta horror movie to me. I have never eaten sausage in my life.
We are having sausage for dinner…I am now rethinking that. Nah, not really, cause then I would have to restart making dinner and I am lazy enough to be cool with our ground up Jenny. (That escalated)
I’ve heard of sausage used as an endearment before. I come from a French background, and was referred to lovingly as “mon petit chou” which means my little cabbage. Go figure.
I. Am. So. Glad. I’m. Vegan.
Now I want to go to mcdonalds for a sausage mcmuffin…jen
It’s not just a bohemian thing. My 100% Swedish in-laws make sausage too. Except their sausage is half meat bits and half potatoes, so the only way I’m that kind of pre-sausage is if I get ground up after eating a couple orders of french fries. Or hash browns. Or mashed potatoes. Great, now I’m hungry.
Bung? I said it out loud, to my sleeping dog (who I let lie). I keep repeating it over and over, sometimes to myself and sometimes just kind of screaming in my head. I rubbed my ear for comfort, something I’ve never done. Until now. I looked at the photo. I kind of want to google it, but what with the news and all, I might have to put it off. Anyway, thanks for a new image to add to my PTSD. I do love you, and when I’m especially down, I re-read Let’s Pretend…and I always laugh out loud.
I tend to be someone who disillusions others with innocent comments. A coworker who made her own sausage didn’t know what natural casings were, and I enlightened her. Apparently, the woman who shoves meat goo into a tube thinks intestines are gross.
I get gallon bags of frozen pecans from my parents. I always find it weird when people buy it from the store when I get it for free. THANKS MOM AND DAD!!!
Google ad for natural beef bung, Large? What?
Well that’s different…but then I forget I am reading your blog and then it really isn’t…
“Do not be afraid of the Almighty Bunghole!” Hahahahaha, there’s a little Beavis in us all. And if you’re not old enough to remember Beavis, well, you’re just not old enough. Or a sausage.
My husband’s mother used to make blood sausage, but she stopped. Her supply of blood ran dry and her vampire neighbors moved away. Other family members of my husband make soppressata, which is always in great demand. I’ve been given a number of them over the years but I never figured out how to cut them and so now my fridge’s meat drawer is filled with tin-foil-wrapped logs of hard things. I can’t bring myself to throw them out; they are coveted and could be used to trade for a kidney or something in the future.
Yeah I’m totally a sausage. Filled with messed up and leftover pieces which is great in my opinion! 🙂
My nickname as a child was Sit down and shut up!
Why don’t people use vegetables as terms of endearment? Actually, I guess people do. “You’re one hot tomato.” Except that’s less a term of endearment and more of a leer-ment.
Oh, Jenny, you sausage! You(r wit is) delicious (sausage)! … I love it. Yes, I am also sausage. I intend to donate my body to science when I’m done with it, so who knows if all doctors will be cannibals by then, and what if they DO, in fact, turn me LITERALLY into sausage? Or might they just eat my intestines, since those are pre-packed?
Whatever. I don’t care. I won’t need this meatsack anymore. Yup, that’s right. I do often refer to the meatsack that houses my spirit, which means I’ve been calling myself a sausage (casing) All Along! Huh!
As a child, we had to make sausage as well. A big family event- & the great grandparents hailed from the Czeclovakia & “Bohunk” areas.
You and Victor remind me so much of the characters from Landline.
This reminds me of a strange short film that came free when we signed up for Charter On-Demand (but probably also lives on YouTube) and is called Made of Meat. It was basically about aliens watching people in a diner and marveling about how humans are all made of meat, technically. It’s like 5 minutes long, tops and hilariously low-budget.
Oh, dear. Late to the party, as usual. Only, normally I’m not late, more like afraid to show up, but I’m here. I like ‘Sausage’…I think I’ll use that on our dog Mags…thanks for the smiles!
I’m sort of stuck on “good pubic hair.” Because what makes pubic hair good? Not that I think pubic hair in intrinsically bad, I don’t, I’m fairly neutral on the subject. But are we talking shiny and soft and conditioned? Neatly trimmed? I have questions.
I live in the Hill Country of Texas in a town founded by German immigrants. My son-in-law is one of their descendants. Making deer sausage is a big deal in these parts, but I can’t even touch the stuff, it’s so gross to me. I’ve been known to refer to it as “donkey dong,” due to its ahem appearance.
“We were cool and you made it weird.” HAHA! I feel like this about facebook every day.
I love this.
Bung? As in bunghole? There’s a difference between knowing how a thing has made, and having it thrown in your face. Or bunghole. As the case(ing) may be.
I like to go by the term “pre-sausage”, myself.
Here’s to the Once and Future Sausage!
This is great! Is it weird that considering myself to be pre-sausage makes me happy? It somehow takes the pressure off. 🙂
Do you guys think i’ll get fired if I refer to my boss as a “silly sausage” at the next company meeting?
When i decide to leave my company I will do so by calling my boss a “silly sausage” in a meeting
This site gives me hope, support and laughs! But, Whatever happened to Kickass Stuff you pinned?
The only phrase I know in French means “my little cabbage.” But even calling someone a cabbage sounds elegant in French:).
A sausage was originally called “a pocket of surprise” which still makes me wonder what is really in a sausage…. snausage… haha
The older I get the more I find myself acting like my ancestry is my destiny. I think Czech people do stuff like that ’cause they do not care what anyone thinks — and of course because it is cheaper. Bohemians unite and head over to Sokol for that pancake breakfast and some weird rhythmic gymnastics, Jenny.
I don’t understand this apparent squeamishness with sausagemaking … there’s even KitchenAid attachments for that. Being good medeival history buffs, our wedding registry included the grinder and stuffer attachments — I got them and the mixer for the shower. This is one reason my husband will never divorce me. 🙂
But seriously, I had to look up beef bung too. We have only done narrow sausages, and eaten them fresh. Dried sausage has to wait for a smoker or fireplace.
To clarify something up above — haggis is sheep not pork. (Which makes me wonder if there are kosher haggis & hallal haggis in Edinburgh.)
To clarify something esle — there’s no rule against MAKING haggis in the US, just on SELLING it. ie no importing it. Specifically the US gov’t used to say lung wasn’t edible. Generations of Scots beg to differ, and in November there was talk of relaxing the import restriction.
That said, my husband has Scottish cousins and I’ve been helping with their Robbie Burns haggis party every January for many years. I skip the sheep slaughtering portion and come in to help package lamb roasts & chops, including grinding the lamburger, which the Lebanese/Syrian side of the family uses to make kibbeh.
This year some of the usual suspects were kept away by bad weather so I even helped stuff the haggis. It’s an ugly songofagun, but if you like giblets in your Thanksgiving gravy you should give it a try. Fresh.
We made sausage a lot when I was growing up. I still use our family’s recipe to this day. Yum!
Makes me think of the movie, “The English Patient.” Colin Firth called his wife “sausage” all the time as a term of endearment. Seemed a little strange. No wonder she had an affair with Ralph Fiennes.
And the Natural Beef Bung Trade Commission is wondering why in the hell their Google ad fees just sky rocketed.
The twitter story from odp was fabulous! Thanks for sharing!
That’s going to make for some interesting customized advertising… x3
Tonight I read in the paper about a local “Wurstfest” held this weekend while eating the spicy chicken sausage my husband made me for dinner. Then I sat at the computer (who needs exercise after eating sausage) and I read your blog about–sausage! Even sausage news comes in threes!
In the past, if my companion or I made some stupid mistake the other would say, “Who’s a silly sausage?”
As we are Australian that was quickly shortened to “Silly Sausage”
Then just to just “Sausage”
Of course (did I mention we were Australia?) that was shortened still further, and these days it’s just “Sosso”.
You are hilarious and witty beyond measure! I love fast-paced, eloquent nonsense that makes deep sense when you consider it, and your blog is most delightful. I love all the bad lip-reading videos too!
Jenny, I am one of those always organized, rocket-through-the-to-do-list type of people that you seem to envy. But you need to know the truth about us. Our ability to organize and get things done does not yield any reward at all. I was in my fifties before I realized that career success comes from social intelligence rather than skills, education, work ethic or classic intelligence. I’ve had a lackluster career and at some point I decided that I really didn’t want to change my essential self in order to have more hope of career advancement. I’ve had friends and co-workers who were super-organized and the only ones of those who marched on up the career ladder were ones with the corporate social skills. On the plus side, my bathroom is always clean.
Sausages, even, are funny. In my languages you can play beetwen Spanish and French with “cumming” or “meaty” see it: SALSIchas from the verb “salir” (to get out) or salCHICHAS where chicha means meat, “alimento, poder”. I will try to improve my uncutten learning languages skills to explain it to you. Nowadays: Have a nice day you all. TC. C-ya
That Twitter thread was so beautiful. Thank you, Jenny. You rock.
My Italian family also made sausage at the kitchen table. Salami was made in the basement because it took several uncles and my mother. I was allowed to participate in the kitchen but not the basement. I’m not sure I want to know why. But it is a great memory of my Nonie (grandmother), my mom, my cousin and me in the kitchen making sausage, tortellini and ravioli.
Natural Beef Bung is a great name for a band.
Also, we are all currently uneaten, walking Sausages (unless some of us were eaten by sharks or grizzlies). Meat, organs, and bone encased in skin.
Whew. I am not that weird. I grew up with my dad making sausage and ‘smoked’ some kinda meat…and death and cremation was always a hands-on topic at our dinner table (that sometimes featured sausage). Thanks for that, Jenny! You are sausage. And you rock.
I don’t wanna be sausage…I wanna be something yummier, like pizza or maybe chicken pie? Wait, can I even be those??? Or maybe I don’t even want to be anything, I don’t know.
Hells yeah all grandparents make sausage ion the kitchen table. And kolaches… but not at the same time. Of course, you might have something going with the whole “it might be a bohemian thing” idea. My grandma is full Czech.
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