Category Archives: advice

The things we need to hear

I have a question for you. What is the thing you need to hear most?  The thing you wish you could have gone back to your younger self to say?  The thing you wish you could say to everyone else?

For me it’s the same thing for every question:

It’s going to be okay.

It is.  Even if it’s hard.  Even if it seems impossible.

It’s going to be okay.  I keep saying it to myself until I start to believe it.  You keep saying it too, okay?

Your turn.

Be careful out there.

Hi.  If you had any doubts about my sanity before you won’t after reading this but I have to write this, so sorry.

I have this weird thing where thoughts get stuck in my mind.  Some doctors say it’s a type of OCD and some say it’s intrusive thoughts from Impulse Control Disorder but whatever it is, it super sucks.  Mostly it’s terrible thoughts about the world, or anxious fears that won’t stop echoing in my head and a lot of time it’s terrible things that happen in the news that I can’t stop thinking of…so much so that I am paralyzed and unable to do anything other than wait for it to pass, like an ear worm that won’t stop except instead of a song it’s a thought that exhausts me mentally and physically.

I can recognize that my reaction is not rational and is unhelpful and I have some tools to help but sometimes those tools don’t work because something happens in such a way that I become convinced that it’s a sign…a warning.  My mind tells me that I need to do certain things to keep myself and my family safe.  And that sounds crazy.  Because it is crazy.  But also?  Sometimes it’s right.  Sometimes that voice in my head telling me to be careful or to change a date or to avoid a flight yells so loudly that I listen and sometimes…sometimes it’s right.  It’s probably coincidence.  If you listen to those fears often enough you’ll see the things you want to see.  But.  There’s always a but, isn’t there?  But sometimes it feels like you have to listen to those voices, because maybe it isn’t crazy…maybe you’re picking up something the universe is laying down, or your subconscious is seeing a pattern you can’t see.  I don’t know.  I only know that sometimes I listen and today is one of those times.

Yesterday I drove up on a fatality as I was driving Hailey to camp.  The police and ambulances were already there.  We said a prayer as we passed.

On the way home I saw a dog I’d often rescued from the street dash out into the street and get hit by a car.  The owner was convinced it was dead but I felt its pulse and she rushed to take him to a vet.  I don’t know if he survived.

On the way to treatment today I barely missed an accident and on the way home I witnessed another.

It’s probably just a lot of coincidences but it doesn’t change this nagging and unending warning I feel in my bones and that’s why today I’m writing this to tell you to be careful.  Don’t text and drive.  Don’t drink and drive.  Don’t let your dog go out without a leash and don’t swerve into traffic if you see an animal dart in front of you.  Be careful out there.  And I will too.

And I’m sorry for writing this because I know it sounds completely nuts but I think the only way I can get it out of my head is to tell you all to be careful because then I’ve done everything I can and maybe voice this will stop.

Be careful out there.  Because I love you.

Men don’t understand science.

This was supposed to be a post about how awesome towels are but then my cat Rolly fucked it all up.  I was going to share my discovery about how if you wrap your hair up in a tight towel-turban when you’re upside down after a shower it pulls your face-skin back so it’s all taut and you look like you just had a mini-face-lift which is cool because you can combat the I-feel-vulnerable-because don’t-have-any-make-up-on problem with the but-I-do-have-a-youthful-fake-face-lift thing, but then when I was setting up my camera my cat jumped on my head.  And technically she does that almost every morning but this particular morning I was trying to document my towel discovery and it was fucking up the whole look, but then I noticed that the weight of the cat body actually pulled the towel further back and made the face-lift thing even more dramatic.  Which was kind of great except that she’s so fat that she sqwooshed my neck so I looked even less swan-like than usual but then I thought maybe it was an okay trade-off because her height gave me the illusion of being taller (which is slimming) so then I was totally conflicted and so I went and asked Victor, “Be honest…does does this cat make me look fatter…or younger?” and he just kind of stared at me and I’m all “Seriously, this is not a trick question.  This is for science.”  And then he was all “You know, you’re the reason why that damn cat jumps on everyone’s head.  If you’d stop letting her ride around like that we’d have a lot less people complaining that our cat attacked their head” and then I was all “I’m not even going to talk to you while you’re being ridiculous” and I walked away because Victor’s mother doesn’t count as “everyone” and besides, the cat was probably just trying to make her look younger.  Or fatter.  Hard to tell with cats.

PS.   This is exactly why I keep a tripod set up in my bathroom.  And also, it makes people take faster showers because they never know if the camera is going to go off.  So I’m saving water and inventing beauty tips.  And also I’m making cats more useful.  You’re welcome, America.

I showed this picture to Victor and he was all "Is that my toothbrush?!" like *that's* the pertinent issue. Victor needs to get his priorities straightened out. And also have no idea if that's his toothbrush. I'm way to busy doing science to pay attention to trivial shit like that.

Comment of the day: Clearly, to activate the scientific part of your brain you need a cat to sit on it. That’s why Einstein’s hair was so fucked up.  He didn’t want people to see the cat.  He wanted all the credit. ~ a

How to not get fired for social networking.

So according to Mashable, “45% of Employers Now Screen Social Media Profiles” and people are totally freaking out about it.  Easy solution: Make up a profile for your boss on Facebook. And make him a furry.  And update his status with stuff like “You know who I don’t trust?  The Koreans”, and “I often dream of blowing up my office building” and “I just had sex with my desk.  *UNCOMFORTABLE*.” and then show him his Facebook page and say “Sir, is this you?!” and when he denies it say “Oh.  Well, I didn’t think so but I had to check.  There’s someone on Facebook and twitter who pretends to be me too but it’s not me either so I totally know what you’re going through”.  Bingo. Now you can write anything you want on Facebook and plead total innocence because it’s “not you”. Then go back to your office and update your facebook status with “I think my boss wants to blow up the building” and he’ll be all “I never said that!” and you can be all “Dude. What are you talking about? Oh.  That’s just that fake-me replying to that fake-you.  It’s probably the same person messing with both of us.”  Then blame it on that girl down the hall you never liked.  This is win-win, y’all.

PS. You can use this site to make incriminating photos of him for his facebook albums.  Or you could obsessively insert your face into all the pictures to make a story about what would happen if you were the President and then get fired for playing on the internet too much.  That could happen too. These are the risks you take with social media.

PPS.  Someone needs to stop me.

If I were president I'd totally have parades like this. And also everyone gets free healthcare. And a pony. The pony is just to rub in Canada's face. Don't tell Canada.

If I were President I'd have parades like this every day. And also everyone gets free health-care. And a pony. The pony is just to rub in Canada's face. Don't tell Canada that though.

Also, all hot guys would tattoo my face on their chests.  And put my picture on their cell phones.  And wear them around their necks?  Honestly, I don't really understand what's happening in this picture either.

And then all hot guys would tattoo my face on their chests because I'm *that* good of a President. And they'd put my picture on their cell phones. And wear them around their necks, I guess? Honestly, I don't really understand what's happening in this picture either.

Then I change "Congress" into "Parliament" because it sounds funkier.  And I change the American flag to a picture of a hobo riding his free pony.  Because even hobos deserve ponies in this country.  Parliament loves it.  You can totally tell.

Then I change "Congress" into "Parliament" because it sounds funkier. And I change the American flag to a picture of a hobo riding his free pony. Because even hobos get ponies in America. Parliament loves it. You can totally tell.

He's more into than I am.

Also, when I'm President, Dane Cook will become obsessed with me and I'll have to get a restraining order because I'm already married, dude. Then he'll kidnap me and America will think it was Russia and then Parliament will attack and then Russia strikes back and then it's nuclear war for all of us. Nice work, Dane Cook.

The elderly have never liked me.

The elderly will blame me for the ensuing war against machine and man but luckily most of them are too old to survive the nuclear apocalypse so it's not that big of a loss in constituency for President-the-Bloggess. The elderly have *never* liked me.

This is me after the apocalypse.  And a breast reduction.  Apparently

And this is me after the apocalypse. And a breast reduction,apparently. I'm still tough as nails though and I eat rats for breakfast. We all do. That's what the future is like. Get ready.

History will remember me fondly.

History will remember me fondly.

Comment of the day: When you are president I am totally going to tattoo your face on my stomach and I am going to tattoo it on my free pony too. And then I am going to take my free pony and run over Dane Cook. Because Dane Cook has to learn to respect the president. ~ Lance Bass Ruined My Life

I’m not dead but I was technically in prison so I have a good reason for not posting

I’m alive.  Got back from my Navy trip yesterday and I’m still exhausted and trying to sober up but I figured you guys would be worried if you didn’t hear from me so here’s a quick taste of what happened:

I  got on a plane with Guy Kawasaki, Dennis Hall,  Charlene LiBeth BlechermanJen Leo,  Pamela SlimAndrew NystromJennifer Van GroveJennifer Jones,  Bill ReichertJefferson WagnerRobert Scoble, Andy Sernovitz and Neptunus Lex and we  landed quite violently on the USS Nimitz aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean but I was kind of too high to remember most of it except that we were in some sort of mail plane I think, and it looked like the inside of Han Solo’s ship except with less wookies:


Then I commandeered a gun and then they tried to take it back and I explained that I’d feel safer holding on to it just in case Tommy Lee Jones comes on board and I can’t find the chef…


…and they gave me a weird look because I guess not everyone in the Navy has seen Under Siege, which seemed suspect to me and I joked that they were probably all actually Russian Communists but then they gave me an even weirder look which just confirmed my suspicions but then later when I was in the brig I realized that I was accidentally combining Under Siege and The Hunt for Red October into one movie, which actually would probably be a kick-ass movie.  I’d call it The Hunt for the Siege of Red October, part II:  Sharkey’s Revenge.  That way people would think it must be awesome because why else would they make a sequel?

I had a lot of time to think about it.

Actually, not the worst jail I've been in.

PS.  Real post about all of this coming.

PPS.  I adored the people on that ship so much it shocked me and can never thank them enough for letting come join their family for the weekend.  Also, if whichever one of those Koreas is being a bastard hurts them in any way I will lose. my. shit.  Seriously, Korea.  Stop being an asshole.

PPPS.  I just posted probably my best advice ever on my advice column.  Long story short in case you think you’re too good to read the whole thing:  Stop fucking bears.

Comment of the day: Why is Goose written on your hand? Is that because you’re hoping Tom Cruise will come and save you from the brig? Don’t you know that Goose dies in the end? I’m just saying. ~ Becky Mochaface

Did you know that “righteous” doesn’t have a “ch” or an “sh” in it even though it sounds like it should? Thank God this blog has spellcheck.

Shit that happened this week:

1.  Hailey recovered from scarlet fever and then I got it except the guy at the readi-clinic was all “You just have a cold, ma’am” but I feel like shit so I’m pretty sure it’s the plague and also why the fuck are you calling me “ma’am”? I realize you’re only 25 but you are a doctor and ma’aming me is just rude at this point.  I know, you’re all younger than me and you’re already a doctor and never have to eat ramen noodles BUT YOU WORK INSIDE A GROCERY STORE.  And also, you made me have to look up the spelling of the word “ma’am” and that shit totally doesn’t look right.

2.  I gave out professional advice about p0rn and how to fake giving birth to the Messiah.

3.  I changed the background color of my blog 90,000 times and every time someone would say “Ew”, so I changed it to the lightest color of pee I could find and so far, no complaints.  I think that’s because light-colored pee is healthy and means you’re drinking just enough and so you feel all self-righteous and you think about bringing in your coworker because someone needs to appreciate this but he’s in a meeting and no one else understands you there and then you think that it probaby wouldn’t work anyway because he’s a boy and this is the ladies room but we could totally sneak him in when there wasn’t anyone in there but you know as soon as you got him in there you’d be stuck because your boss would walk in and then you’d both have to hide in the stall and try not to laugh and you’d be pointing at the pee and mouthing “LOOK AT THAT.  IT’S AWESOME” and he’d be all “WHY THE HELL ARE WE IN THE BATHROOM?!” and he’d be screaming but silently and then you’d be mouthing “I HAD 9 GLASSES OF WATER THIS MORNING” and then he’d try to tell you that that’s actually unhealthy because of something about how it throws off the sodium in your body and you could die and I’m all “FINE, DEBBIE-DOWNER.  I WAS JUST TRYING TO SHARE MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS WITH YOU” and then he’s all “WELL I’M JUST TRYING TO SAVE YOUR LIFE” and then you quit work but you come back two weeks later to visit and he’s all pissed off that you haven’t called or anything but he still tries to hug you and you’re all “No, don’t hug me.  I just got molested by a giraffe and I smell like urine”.

3.  I got molested by a giraffe and smelled like urine and then had to go to my old job to pick up my final paycheck and I was trying to be all “Oh, my new life of unemployment is so glamorous!  Don’t get near me though, because of all the giraffe piss”.  This is probably the entry that needs the most explanation but that second point was way too long and by now most of you are all “What’s for dinner?”, “Is something burning?”, “I wonder who’s on twitter now?”, “No, seriously.  *Is* something burning?” but for the four of you still here I will give you the story:  I was molested.  By a giraffe.  And I smelled like urine.

4.  Wait.  I just realized I didn’t really explain anything there.  Basically I went to the zoo for a social media outreach thingie with 3 other writers and first of all we ran the golf cart into a fence and it got so caught we couldn’t even lift it and had to abandon it.  Then the zoo people were all “Wanna get in the giraffe pen and feed the giraffes?” and I’m all “With all the urine?  OF COURSE I DO.”  Oh wait.  No.  I think I said “Oh.  I guess so?”  So then I got in with the giraffes and the zoo people were all “Oh, look…the male is doing a urine test to see if she’s in heat” and basically the giraffe stuck his face in the butt of the female giraffe and she peed on his face and I’m all “Ew. …I mean ‘Oh! The miracle of nature!’” and right then the male giraffe swung his uriney face around and totally hit me with his snoot!  And his face was totally as big as a dinosaurs.  Like, from a distance they look like they have tiny dog heads because they’re so far away but up close their heads are like the size of 80 canteloupes.  Then he grabbed ahold of me with his big neck and pushed me up against the wall and the zoo people were all “Giraffe guy! (I can’t remember his name because I probably blocked it out from the trauma)  Let her go!” but they were saying it very playfully but then he pushed me over to the other side of the fence and pinned me there and I’m all “I’M ON THE I.U.D.  I’M NOT EVEN FERTILE.” but the giraffe was like “Oh, I don’t speak English” and then I smelled like giraffe and urine and on the way out I mentioned that I wanted a rape kit and the zoo people laughed but I was only partially kidding and then one of them was all “It was probably your dress.  He likes blue” which is the equivalent of “Well she was totally asking for it.  Did you see what she was wearing?”  Then they brought us back to the zoo office and this lady told us about how the Houston Zoo is all into conservation and she started talking about yellow-spotted-mountain-tree-toad-fungus that’s killing frogs and I stopped listening but then she said something about how there was a frog with juices 100 times stronger than morphine that’s also non-addictive and I was all ” We can not lose morphine frog” and I asked her to describe what it looks like and where I could find one and she totally wouldn’t tell me and she started talking about how there’s another frog that if you inject pee into it and you’re pregnant the frog will lay eggs immediately and the girl next to me is all “Like EPT.  And you can use it over and over” which is cool but get back to morphine frog but she totally wouldn’t and said she was kinda out of it because she hadn’t slept for 5 days because of “toad issues” which I think means she’d been on a toad juice bender.  Then she started talking about “what a cotton-tree sounds like when you are lying in the grass” and I was all “This lady is high right now“.  So basically I’m going to start licking a bunch of random frogs just in case one is the morphine frog.  Not that pee frog though.  That’s disgusting.

5.  Oh I almost forgot!  The zoo sent me photos of our jaunt except they only included pictures immediately before the attack where I look all happy because probably their legal team was all “You can’t send her those pictures but let’s pin them up in the office so we can laugh at them all day.  Is that giraffe urine dripping off of her?  Awesome.”


6.  I wrote this entire post while drunk.  True story.  If I were you I probably wouldn’t read it.  Also, I love the zoo in spite of the whole giraffe rape thing and they did not pay me to say that although they did give me a stuffed panda bear which my dog is chewing on right now.  Bad dog.  Is this the longest post I’ve ever written?  I’m pretty sure it is.  It’s so long I don’t even know how to end it.

The end.

UPDATED: 7.  Yes, I know I look crazy in that picture but I think maybe it’s partially because there’s a giant giraffe head right next to me but then I just took another picture with my phone to prove I don’t look that weird in real life and I totally still have crazy eyes.  I probably have some sort of giraffe VD.


Comment of the day: Okay, I’m going to feel like a bastard for saying this, but I feel like I have to: the giraffe picture is pretty much what I would imagine it to look like if Helen Keller went to visit the zoo. Don’t get me wrong, she was an AWESOME human being, but homegirl couldn’t pose worth a damn.  ~ Michael

Babies are flammable but only at night for some reason

A series of unrelated crap:

1. I took a picture of this semi with my phone while I was driving because I’m totally safe like that.

And then I was all “when did jam get flammable?”  Because honestly, there are some things that you shouldn’t have to worry about spontaneously combusting and one of those is jam.  The other is babies but apparently they’re bursting into flames all the time too because why else do all of their pajamas scream “FLAME RETARDANT” on them.  That’s why you aren’t allowed to put blankets on them at night.  Blankets are like baby kindling.  I always hold babies at an arms length just in case they suddenly catch fire.  Also because I’m not good with children.

2.  Victor had to do a redesign on my blog because it kept breaking and now it feels very Swedish and reminds me of tundra.  I wanted it to be all ninja-like and remind me of Garanimals.  Victor was all “What the fuck are you talking about?  What’s a Garanimal?” and I’m all “You know.  They were like mix and match clothes for rich kids.”  And then I started talking about how if Garanimals was still in business and I was in their marketing department I’d totally use that Nine Inch Nails song that’s all “I Wanna Fuck You Like an Animal” and change it to “I Wanna Wear You Like Garanimals” because people would sing it all the time and then Victor was all “What is wrong with you?” and I’m like “That’s probably why they went out of business” and Victor was all “Yeah, that’s why they went out of business” but then I looked them up and turns out they’re still in business and I think I just confused them with the ShirtTales.  In other words, I’m not sure if I like my blog redesign.

3.  A new Ask the Bloggess advice column is up.  How to shave male junk, cat umbilical cords, dead Mayans, blah, blah, blah.

4.  I wanna wear you like Garanaimals. Seriously, I can’t stop singing it.

Comment of the day: Inflammable babies explains a lot – i’ve always instinctively stayed clear of them. I can’t risk a baby exploding – I’ve got the kind of skin that scars. ~ Sheila

I’m pretty sure Jesus doesn’t care *what* you do with semen.

I installed Google Analytics on my blog about a year ago and it’s awesome unsettling because it tells you which google searches are bringing people to your blog and you get wonderful disturbing reports like this:
Awesome.  And what’s even sadder is how many fewer people are searching for Jesus than are searching for some good old elephant p0rn.  And even more disturbing?  The actual Jesus searches that led you here.
Jesus-related Google Searches that ended up at The Bloggess:
On a somewhat unrelated note, number of times the word “vagina” was mentioned in yesterday’s post?  One hundred and nine.  Honestly, it’s hard not to be proud.
Also unrelated and possibly a message from God?  This word captcha I just gotAwesome.
Comment of the day: True Story: There is a canadian made movie entitled “Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter” where Jesus comes back to fight a) Vampires, b) Lesbian Vampires, and c) a mexican wrestler. ~ Trista

This is one of those posts about how you can make money off your blog but instead of money you get a coupon for a burrito

Victor says I can’t stay home and drink myself to death until I’m making more than $100 a month on my blog so this week I sent out my first real business proposal and Victor was all “So how goes the blog sales?” and I’m all “Awesome.  I’m in discussions with a mucky-muck at Chipotle” and then he looks over my shoulder at the email and is all “WHY ARE YOU DISCUSSING MIDGET PORN ON A BUSINESS PROPOSAL?” like that never happens to him.  It happens, people.  In fact, if you plan on getting private ads this is totally going to happen to you too.  My current negotiations:

Dear Chipotle,
I have a blog that is about ninjas, sasquatch, vagina mittens and other pressing issues.  Shockingly, it is quite popular and is in the technorati top 2,800 which is very impressive but only to about 2800 other people. 

I love your burritos so much so that when I don’t go to Chipotle the people there worry that I’m sick.  It’s kind of awesome if by “awesome” you mean “embarrassing in front of other people”.  If you sponsor my blog I could create some amazing ads, much like the one I have up on my blog right now, which claims that your burritos cure polio.  Also, thank you for curing polio.  Also, I have no fact checker.  And I’m a little drunk. 

Have you ever considered advertising on bizarre blogs that make people laugh and go “WTF?” all at the same time?  Because you should.  In fact, if you paid me a shitload of money it would probably make the NY Times and all the bloggers would be talking about it and you would get so much publicity for supporting the blog arts you wouldn’t even know what to do with it.  And I don’t know what “a shitload” is because this is the first serious business proposal I’ve ever written but I think $100,000 for a year seems totally “shitloadirrific”.  $110,000 and I will even write you into my book, which is going to be awesome and will sell well according to my agent who is not imaginary.  $115,000 and I will throw in a nude photo of myself.  It’s only “mostly nude” though because I want to be able to run for congress one day.

Jenny, the Bloggess

Thank you for writing us, and it’s great to hear that you are such an amazing fan. I noted your mention of “sasquatch” in its singular sense. Is there more than one sasquatch, and if so, would the plural be “sasquatches,” or is there only one, in which case, should it be capitalized as “Sasquatch?” Or is it more like “fish,” where singular and plural are the same? In any case, as the saying goes, give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day, teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. Or something like that and blah, blah, blah…. Also, that’s good to hear about our burritos curing polio. Jonas Salk would be thrilled, if he were alive today. And while unfortunately we probably won’t be able to advertize on your blog at this juncture, we can at least appreciate your fandom. I’d like to send you some free burrito coupons for your support.  Please don’t send me any nude photos. We get enough of those already. We hope to hear back from you soon.


Joe Stupp

Dear Joe,
 I didn’t get the whole “teach a man to fish” thing at first but now I think I understand. You’re saying that you’ll teach me to counterfeit money so I don’t have to rely on you for sponsorship, right?  Because I’ll be honest with you Joe, I’m intrigued.  And by “intrigued” I mean “appalled”.  Unless you can prove to me you aren’t an undercover cop wearing a wire.  Then I’m back to intrigued again. Also, I’m a little insulted that you are rebuffing my naked pictures and even more unsettled that you seem to be implying that you have enough naked pictures of me already.  Those photos are not of me, and also those midgets were photoshopped in after I had already left the motel room. Also, you aren’t supposed to call them midgets, Joe.  You’re supposed to call them “little people”.  Or “Bullet McCoy and Big Todd”. Those might not have been their real names.

I am very disappointed that we were not able to reach a business agreement but I hope you’ll remember me in the future if you decide to try blog advertising because I’d love to be all “Well now the price is ONE MILLION DOLLARS, JOE.  And every second you wait it doubles!”  And God help you if it’s a long weekend and you don’t respond to me for 3 days because then you might as well sign the deed over to me. But yes.  I’d love a coupon for a burrito, Joe.  You are one tough negotiator.


PS.  The sasquatch are a peaceful group of creatures and are cool with being called either “the sasquatch” or “the sasquatches”.  They’re like the Cherokee.  Only hairier.


I can’t technically prove that I’m not an undercover cop wearing a wire and my counterfeiting skills are slim to none (more closely approaching the latter), so I don’t think I could help you there. And the implication was not about naked pictures of you per se, but more about what other people have sent. I was trying to say that it didn’t move us or persuade us. We are immune to your potential wiles. Besides, you said “mostly nude.” What fun is that? Also, grammatically speaking, aren’t periods and such supposed to go inside and not outside the quotation marks? Additionally, is Bullet McCoy nice?

Finally, if there is more than one sasquatch, would they be called Big Feet instead of Big Foot? And you know what they say about big feet, right? Big shoes…. I am always intrigued by herd names.

Dear Joe,

I think it’s very unprofessional of you to distract me with midget porn inquiries when I’m trying to negotiate a contract.  But yes.  Bullet McCoy is very nice when he’s sober.  If you ever see him in person after 10am though you should stand at least 20 feet back because he will be drunker than a pirate and will pee all over you.  Honestly, I’ve seen it happen.  He calls it his “golden autograph”.

Also, I think the quotation mark thing goes both ways (much like Bullet McCoy).  Is that why Chipolte is not considering my advertising proposal? Because of my haphazard punctuation?  Because I happen to know of a best-selling book that has no quotation marks whatsoever.  It’s called “The Bible”.  True story.

Love, Jenny

Next post…selling your plasma to supplement your income.

Comment of the day: Let me tell you about selling plasma. The wind will knock you over when riding your bike home, only to go to sleep and wake up with blowned up arteries so that you can’t move your arms and you look like a robot. ~ Shannon

How not to market to pretty much anybody

So I was going through my email and found this spam…


 …which looks innocent enough until you highlight the body and that’s when I discovered it was actually an invisible, secret code


More specifically?  It’s an invisible, secret code calling me an “asshead”.  Repeatedly.  Awesome.  It’s like the Da Vinci Code.  Except, way more insulting.

And also?  Why exactly am I still getting billions of spam emails about penises?  And who is buying all of the penis enhancements and vi@gra from random emails because technically, this is all your fault.  Asshead.  And why do I never get spam about vagina enhancements?  Because it seems a little unfair and is probably some sort of conspiracy from “the man” to intimidate us with penis-envy.  Perhaps if dudes were assaulted with as many disturbing emails about vaginas as I get about penises they would get to work on some better spam blockers.  “Increase your vagina’s girth by 300%!  Make it smell like grapes!  Control the world with your giant vagina!  Asshead!  Vagina!”   In fact, I suggest you send random vagina enhancement emails to at least 5 of your male colleagues a day just so they know we mean business.   Maybe then they would focus on solving this spam problem and turn away from less pressing matters, like building cat playhouses and tables that will totally kill you.

Updated:  Wow.  Okay, this one isn’t technically “spam” because it was sent to me specifically asking me to write about them on my blog.  And that makes this even more disheartening:

It is better than “Asshead” though. 

Updated again:  I’m on candid camera, right?  Because I just got this spam comment from “Daniel”:

“I think your thinking is nearly matching the great suckrats concept.”

So…I’m nearly as good as “Suckrats”.   How flattering.  Is this my birthday?  I mean, I’m assuming this is a just a terrible misspelling of “Socrates” and I might even have fallen for it if the exact same comment wasn’t left on my blog 27 times in one minute.  Very subtle, Daniel.  You asshead.

Comment of the day: If I encountered a vagina that smelled like grapes there would be a nearly irresistable urge to step on it to see if I could make wine come out. I can’t be running around stepping on vaginas all day. I have to get to work.   Thanks for nothing, Grape Vagina! ~ Kurt