Yesterday my sister and her kids came all the way from Washington to see Nowhere Bookshop for the first time since it opened and I was so incredibly excited because they were my favorite visitors ever until this morning when a new gold standard was set:
Because today we got a visit from Jacque Merde. It’s a bit rude to light up at the bar, but I think the team was a little intimidated because he is so very french.
He hung around for awhile and probably picked up something from the poetry section and doffed several of our wines which I can only imagine since I was unfortunately not at the store this morning, which I now deeply regret.
Victor is out of town but I texted him photos with no context, to which he only responded, “Huh” because I think I’ve broken him.
But I’m sending enormous thanks to Jacques Merde’s creator and driver, Joshua from Random Creations by Red, who makes amazing taxidermy (and manages Jacques ‘Only Fawns’ account) for dropping by and reminding me that weird people are absolutely the best people.
In lightly related news, this Saturday (4/29) is Independent Bookstore Day and we’re celebrating all week:
And if you can’t celebrate with us in person may I suggest the next best thing and join us next month virtually when I visit with my favorite humorist in the world, Samantha Irby. Tickets are on sale now and include a live zoom link where you can attend in your pajamas and a copy of Samantha’s upcoming book (Quietly Hostile) which is so very good. It’s like getting tickets for Taylor Swift’s Eras tour but at a fraction of the cost and without having to deal with parking. And maybe there will be fancy costume changes and singing. IT’S ALL UNKNOWN.
31 thoughts on “Weird people are the very best kind of people. Change my mind.”
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Weird people are great. Because we can all look each other straight in the eye and say things like “Hold the bank teller’s pencil please Mildred, for outside is an awakening of waking up in a pool of hot coffee”…… and someone will laugh at it.
Amazing! Jack Shit is totally awesome. I’m sure he looked at the store with disdain and did not pay for the wine!!
Oh my… it is 1 am my time, way past bedtime. Is it possible to get a ticket and access next morning?
(Give us a call to confirm, but usually we record it and send it out to everyone who RSVPed later. 🙂 ~ Jenny)
Jacque Merde Is fabulous and no one can say shit about him to me!
Bahahaha Jacques Merde. Weird people unite!
I adore Jacques Merde – that’s better than me convincing my kid to use the fake news anchor name Richard Gherkin for a school project! Jacques is truly the shit.
15 Chicago area independent book stores are holding a “Book Crawl” this Saturday, including my personal fave Bookends and Beginnings in Evanston. (They don’t have a Jaques Merde but they do have a carousel horse) You get a little passport-thingie and if you visit (and likely make at least a small purchase from) 10 of the stores you get a coupon code for 10% all purchases at the stores you visited for the rest of this year! If you make it to all 15 you can get a 15% off coupon!
I’m still not terribly mobile (I literally got hit by a bus a year ago last July) so I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it by bus, but I have friends who are packing up a bunch of us in their car and we’re going to make a day of it and try for the 10!
I seriously snorfled at Jacque Merde. Because, as you know Jenny, from the François, he is Jack Shit. And to have an Only Fawns account. Oh Jacque, you are a drill dear indeed. 😘
I’m deciding what I want to buy on IBSD. Better than saying IBS Day because that just sounds like tummy troubles.
He is obviously waiting for his favorite Doe. Biche Lorraine.
Biche Lorraine? Couldn’t stop laughing!
George and Brad didn’t know OnlyFawns was a thing, but they did ask you keep Beyonce off it.
And weird people always tell the best stories and have the most interesting stuff, which sometimes leads to even weirder stories.
Only in Texas…
Je t’aime Jacque Merde!
He is terribly fabulous!
I love your new bookstore friend Jacque Merde, he is truly the shit!
And so French…
Weird people are my favorite kind of people.
Because normal people are so boring. I figure if people are seemingly normal, they are actually hiding some deep dark secret, or are really a serial killer. About serial killers they always say “he/she was such a nice, quiet person, so normal….”
I had a ticket for the last Samantha Irby and I fucked up the time zone so I caught literally the last 65 seconds. I want to buy another one, but I don’t trust myself to do the math!
Slightly unrelated but awesome: I teach in Houston, and a student showed up to class this week with a gift from her and her mother: a Nowhere mug and sticker.
Apparently, her mom noticed I was wearing a Nowhere sweatshirt when she picked her up from our winter trips, so when they were in San Antonio last weekend and visited, they wanted to get me something.
Book store people are the best people.
(They are. ~ Jenny)
That event is going to be awesome! Is there a way us Aussie types can join without buying the book, as there isn’t an option for international shipping…
(Ooh, good question. Send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org and they can help you. ~ Jenny)
Jacque Merde love it so good kinda like me wanting a Old western casket for a living room coffee table. 😁
OK, I have nowhere else to post this, and since you like weird people…
For about a week now, we’ve been having problems with a small/young female rat, who keeps getting into my kitchen late at night while I’m up (NIGHTOWLS HOLLA HOOT HOOT!) and my Vulcan is asleep. Now, I like rats when they’re pets, live in a cage, and are pretty much disease free, but this little dork keeps coming up through my oven via the gas line and crapping on my stove. So, naw girl, bye… but my Vulcan has set up the oldschool snap-traps because he has not watched too many cartoons like me and doesn’t care. But I wish it would get the hint and kick rocks first; this warrior sees no honor in the killing of one so small and cute, stove poops be damned.
So last night, I see it start to come around the corner here by my desk, and made a +3 sonic attack by yelling “NOOOO!” so loud, it jumped up before it ran back into the kitchen, with me after it, still yelling “NO! WHY?! WHY WON’T YOU GO AWAY?! I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU, DO YOU *WANT* TO DIE?! LEAVE ME ALONE!” as it tripped over itself trying to figure a way out. Then I hear my Vulcan’s voice behind me, asking “Are you yelling at the rat?” I turn around, and his sleepy, far-sighted ass is standing there, without glasses, buck ass naked. I was like “MOTHERFUCKER, YOU BETTER HOPE SO, WHAT’S YOUR NAKED ASS GONNA DO IF I’VE FINNALY GONE ‘ROUND THE TWIST?!” and he grumbled and went back to bed.
Storm the Klingon
P.S. The rat still lives; I can hear it in there now, pooping and scheming.
(I love this whole story. Also, have you tried one of those traps where there’s a swinging door on a bucket? I can’t remember what they’re called but they have a good success rate and don’t hurt the rat. ~ Jenny)
Nice one klingon
Oh mon Dieu, maintenant nous connaissons tous Jaque Merde
Hmm, I’ve never met the guy. I guess I’ll have to admit…
I don’t know Jacque Merde.
Personally, I’m thinking over here, please, please do not change my mind on weird people being the best kind of people, unless you are an absolutely *wonderful* non-weird person.
But that is likely due to exposure to weird-and-also-skeezy on the buses when I was a young teen who traveled with a smile. There was also a ton of weird-and-great! The bus travel was by and large a good experience, with lots of weird and amazing people; there were just some spectacular and… bad-weird… exceptions.
Anyway. Therefore, now I don’t want people to change my mind unless they’re evidence of something better in the world than I knew existed…
An aside, needed, Rescue for – Storm The Klingon – Love your Weirdness! But as to unwanted nite time kitchen visitor [Not the Klingon!]. – Success assured by stuffing Steel Wool into the rest of the gas line opening – – Tightly.
AND trim some, 4-6, galvanized metal (hardware store or even Craft store) – even as strips – to make the gas line opening Tinier. Rodentia hate to chew on steel wool. The metal strips are insurance – anything the size of their tiny, tiny skull, is big enough.
Jenny, Jacque Merde is truly the shit. Perhaps you can keep the weirdness going by recording a “Jacque” French voice riddled with grouchy quips, and leave said recording behind the counter and play those when people approach the bar. 😆
Storm the Klingon, you and your Vulcan keep it weird! I applaud your odd selves, sir.👏🏻 Nature does NOT respect personal boundaries.
Perhaps little Ratatouille wants you to be his chef conduit, and instead of making you a soufflé to win you over he passive aggressively shits all over your stove. Not nice, Ratatouille!
That sounds very similar to a scenario that happened to me nightly at our old apartment, except imagine massive (sometimes inches big) red Sowbug Killer Spiders (yes that is their actual name). They would only appear at night, and I would have to thump/stun them with a massive fly swatter (like the arachnid Xena Warrior Princess I was) scoop those up, and throw those outside (we lived on the first floor).
Hubby would have no idea of my heroic deeds as he slumbered soundly, and I would recount my harrowing tales of valor the next day.
Without weird people, the world would be boring
Just curious if your bookstore would like some free copies of self-published books by my author friend? Me, I’m that friend.
http://www.leelovelace.com if you are interested in knowing what kind of books.
Hahahaha Good post the kangaroo is looking cool and stylish
Sweet mother of Bowie, I told a story good enough for Jenny to like it! What a birthday present! I just checked back into this comment thread after a bit to see if there was anything else, and I nearly plotzed!
Thanks to all who supported me through my rat struggle, especially those who offered suggestions. I was gone for a week visiting a friend, and the problem seems to have been sorted out whilst I was gone, if for no other reason than the regular patrols of my Pug, Rockford J. “Rocky” Chublonski.
All y’all rock,
Storm the Klingon