Category Archives: The People’s Party

Where the hell am I?

Tomorrow I leave to visit Utah for the first time, as I was asked by several Mormons to be an Ignite speaker about “anything that you’re passionate about.  Your choice.”  Most people are already cringing at the terrible repercussions of letting me speak about anything I want, but when I told them I wanted to have a live drill for the zombie apocalypse they were all, “Huh.  Rock on”.  Also, I sent them my power point presentation, which includes phrases like “Knock-knock, motherfucker”, and they didn’t even blink.  Because Mormons are awesome.  Unless you ask them to mix you a drink, which they will totally fuck up because they are terrible bartenders.  Anyway, my point is that I will be at Evo ’11 for most of this week and if you’re going to be there too (and are good at shuffling and moaning) you should let me know.

PS.  I’m also co-hosting the 5th annual People’s Party at Blogher this year.  As always, I will be hiding in the bathroom the entire time, as my anxiety disorder has never actually allowed me to attend any of the parties I’ve hosted.  This is not an exaggeration.  Also, I think I’m supposed to be writing a post about this but I’m way too irresponsible to do that.  I’d feel worse about that but it’s fairly obvious that I’m not responsible enough to be expected to follow the rules.

BlogHer 11 Parties

PPS.  The bad-ass Mormons hosting Evo ’11 are the same ones who were there when I was crowned Czar by the Mayor, and who were unfazed when I was attacked by a feral baby on stage.  They totally know what they’re getting into. Probably.  Either way, it should make for an interesting post when I get back.

Dear New York Airport: Maybe next time you could have us land in a pit of vipers that are also on fire. Just to keep things new.

Last week I was at the Blogher conference and it’s too complicated to write about so instead I’m just going to re-write the notes I jotted in my journal while I was there because I’m really tired and I believe in phoning it in.  Also, if this is the first time you’re reading me you should skip this post and read the one before it or just find a less offensive blog.


I’m not allowed on a plane unchaperoned so I spent the night at Chookooloonks‘ (aka Karen) house where I was serenaded with live ukulele music and we exchanged stories of passing out in ditches.  Then I went to wash my hair but I forgot to bring shampoo so I used her “Uncle Funky’s Daughter Shampoo For Kinky Curly Hair” which is not really made for white girls but when I came out of the bathroom I told Karen that it was awesome because I felt very multi-cultural and also now I know what it feels like to be black.  Except without all the history and repression.  Then my hair dried and it looked exactly the same as before, which was disappointing but I’m pretty sure I was changed inside forever, like the day you lose your virginity except better because no cops came and it didn’t happen in a truck.  Then Karen gave me the “Girl, you are not right” look which looks a lot like the “Girl, you need a sandwich” face and so I agreed because either way she was right and I really wanted a sandwich.

It's basically this look but with more raised eyebrow.


Landed in LaGuardia airport.  Hey, you know what would be a good idea?  If you didn’t put the runway on a pier IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING OCEAN.  Or if maybe the captain came on and said something like “Oh, by the way, it’s about to look like we’re crashing into the water but at the last second the runway will appear and we’ve never had any giant squid reach out their tentacles to grab us even though we look EXACTLY LIKE A FISHING LURE SKIMMING THE SURFACE.  No worries.  Stop crying, girl in row 8.”  That would have been helpful.  But it didn’t happen, probably because they totally had been grabbed by a squid tentacle before and now they can’t legally make that disclaimer and then I may have hyperventilated a little and then Karen gave me that look again which was weird because I totally wasn’t in the mood for a sandwich and she’s usually very intuitive about that sort of thing.


I’ve been in New York for one hour and already I’m being detained by the NYPD.  Apparently it’s illegal to get a pedicab the way we did which was by stabbing the people about to get in the cab and then forcing the cab driver to commit robberies for us.  Kidding.  Actually we were just standing in an illegal place to hail a cab and so we got pulled over directly in front of a hotel full of bloggers.  I tweeted that if you looked outside the hotel right now you could see Laura and I being detained for 20 minutes by the NYPD but no one did, probably because everyone inside was too busy doing opium and pulling used kidneys out of murdered hookers.  Way to pick your battles, NYPD.  Also, last time I was out of town with Laura we almost got arrested as well so I blame her.  It’s pretty much the worst tradition ever.


My friend Grace just asked me how many drink tickets I got.  I have no idea what she’s talking about.  She pulled out the perforated badge sheet that should have had drink tickets printed on it and it was entirely blank. Awesome. Blogher thinks I’m an alcoholic.


Went to the Social Luxe party and got snubbed by everyone I’ve ever met.  Except that I’m almost sure that it was just because I looked so different in my phony-tail.  Or maybe they’re just assholes.  Probably the first one.  Then I won the “Funniest Blog” award and when I went on stage everyone was all “Huh” and that’s kind of what I thought too.  Then I think I got fitted for lingerie but I’m not sure if that was part of the party or if I was just being molested so I just went with it.  And that’s basically how Blogher is.  Also, FYI?  The award is a glass paperweight and if you go through security with it on the way home they will assume you have a bomb and they will bring out security and then when they finally pull it out and read it they’ll say “What’s a blog?” and that’s how you know you’re in the real world again.


Called Victor to tell him I won an award.

Victor:  Awesome.  I already have a trophy for you at home.

me:  Is it “World’s Greatest Grampa”?

Victor:  I scratched out the “Grampa”.


Hosted the annual People’s Party with a bottle of screw-top wine that I stole from the mini-bar.  As usual, I went to the actual party for 1.9 minutes then spent the entire rest of the night hiding in the bathroom.  It was a lot like a normal party except that people make you wear their shoes so they can swallow them and someone makes an art installation of play-doh on the sink but you don’t even notice it because a group of girls dressed in full Girl Genius costume just came to pour drinks.  The bathrooms of Blogher are a lot like Burning Man, but with slightly less nudity.


Back in the hotel room.  Just stuck my head out of the bathroom to clarify to my roomate that I’m using an electric toothbrush in here and not a vibrator.  She looked less relieved than I expected.  This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to people after 10 PM.


Part two comes tomorrow.  I need a nap.

Free booze.

Dear internets, it’s once again time for my mandatory Blogher post.  I’ll make it short, I swear.

If you aren’t going to the Blogher conference, no worries.  I spend most of my time hiding in my room or in a public bathroom so technically you could just hide in your bedroom at home and simulate the whole thing.  Except that to make it a true experience you need to share one bed with several other girls and you have to pretend that you’re always happy and that you never have to poop.  That’s basically the whole conference.  Plus booze.  Also, my roomie Laura and I were comparing all of the private parties that we didn’t get invited to and we decided that we would host an imaginary private party so that when you see people tweeting about some awesome party you weren’t invited to you can make them jealous with your own personal party tweets and we will totally back you up.  If you claim to see me throwing flaming furniture out of a hotel room inexplicably filled with rare Brazilian lizards I won’t deny it because that’s pretty much exactly the kind of thing you expect to see at #vaginapalooza10.  You’ve just been invited.  No vagina necessary.

If you are at Blogher then come find me because I spend most of my time alone in bathrooms.  I’m co-hosting the People’s Party again this year but as usual I probably won’t see the inside of the party and will most likely be in a bathroom outside of the party hanging out with the irresponsible people who didn’t RSVP on time.  On Friday I’m doing “performance art” at the Kirtsy party and popping into the Serenity Suite when I get too overwhelmed.  Then Saturday I’m speaking about when it’s okay to lie (summary: It’s not) and then Saturday night I’ll be at the Volstead and at the SexIs party at the Warwick.  (Both of those are totally open to non-blogher attendees, btw.   No RSVP necessary.  Just come if you want.)  As always, I will be a mess and cannot be held responsible for anything that I say or do and I apologize in advance for whatever ill-advised thing I convince you to do.  Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking.

Also, every year I wear a confidence wig (or two) because I’m scared of people and it helps me pretend that I’m someone else but this year my friend Karen insisted that I need to stop wearing confidence wigs because I need to just be myself with my own bad hair but I’m pretty sure she’s just saying that because she’s never had bad hair but I’m taking her advice and this year I’m making a compromise.


Baby-steps, y’all.

PS.  I just did spell-check and it told me that “Blogher” isn’t a real word but that “#vaginapalooza10” totally was.  Awesome.  Spellcheck’s totally coming to the party.

Comment of the day: In order to compensate for not being a cool BlogHer type lady I’m going to spend the weekend pooping as much as I possibly can. ~ Erica

This is where you should begin. Unless you aren’t going to Blogher this year. Then just ignore me.

If you’ve read this blog for more than a year then you can probably guess what this is all about.  Follow the breadcrumbs, y’all…

Next stop?  Click here.

Nancy W. Kappes (paralegal) is real and I have witnesses

So this weekend at the Blogher conference I co-hosted the People’s Party and it was very nice because everyone there had to apologize for accusing me of making up Nancy W. Kappes (paralegal) because SHE FUCKING CAME.  This is where you should go read all the “Nancy W. Kappes is not my personal Tyler Durden” posts if you are already lost because this is about to get confusing even for me and if you don’t know the background you’re fucked and should probably just skip this and instead just read about the time I scared Blair from “Facts of Life.

So Nancy shows up at Blogher carrying a big bottle of water which was actually straight vodka and carrying pictures of her kids, grandkids, and a trucker hat she’d had made for me.

Me, Nancy, hats.

Me, Nancy, hats.

Also, she brought her “Judy Garland Trailmix” and dumped it out on the bed so I could have first pick, which was very generous and ladylike, and I didn’t actually have any of them because I’d been drinking but she made me a doggie bag and called me a bitch, but in a really nice way.

Nancy's Judy-Garland-Trailmix

This is totally for real, y'all

Then she started yelling about what tiny crap-hole hotel room me and my roomie were staying in and insisted we go to her giant suite across town but I reminded her that I was supposed to be hosting a party in a few minutes but then everything got kind of fuzzy and I can only assume she slipped me a roofie or I got a contact high from standing too close.  At one point she got lost and I was hiding in the bathroom having a serious conversation with a bunch of chicks and I can’t remember what it was about but I think it was about how someone’s pet llama had cancer or something  and then Nancy walks in and I can’t see her but I can tell it’s her because she’s all “OUT OF MAH WAY, BITCHES!” and then she sees me on the bathroom counter and waves offhandedly at me and then she kicked open the door to a stall and is all “Move, bitches!  I gotta take a piss”.  Then everyone in the bathroom got all quiet and kind of looked at each other all shocked like “What the fuck just happened?” and I’m all “By the way?  That? Is Nancy W. Kappes, y’all” and they’re all “NANCY W. KAPPES PARALEGAL?!” and I’m all “Totally” in kind of a smug, I-fucking-told-you-she-was-real sort of way and everyone got all wide-eyed like they’d just seen the ghost of Ringo Starr and then Nancy walks out of the stall and pulls out her trail-mix bottle and is all “Alright, line up, bitches! Who needs dope?” and some chick is like “Uh…you’re selling us pot?” and Nancy looks at her with aghast pity and is all “No, honey.  POT IS FOR FUCKING AMATEURS” and that’s when I wanted to put her in my pocket and take her with me everywhere.   Then I got pulled away to meet the sponsors and I told Nancy to stay there because our sponsors were pretty kid-friendly and I felt a little concerned about the people I left behind in the bathroom but then 10 minutes later they had formed like a giant Nancy-entourage and were following her everywhere and it was obvious that they were genuinely won over by her awesomeness because not enough time had passed for whatever pills she gave them to have kicked in yet.   Then I look over and see Nina from The Goodnight Show on PBS and she’s dressed in her signature pajamas and it was cool but very weird.  It was like if you threw a dinner party and suddenly you looked over and Captain Kangaroo was there.  Back when he was alive, I mean.  Not the decaying corpse of Captain Kangaroo.  That would be even more fucked up.  Then I look behind me and Nancy is assaulting our Crocs sponsor but he actually seems quite delighted about it and that’s when I was very glad that I hadn’t taken any of the pills she gave me yet because the whole thing was so surreal I would have suspected it was some sort of weird drug hallucination.

About 2am Nancy left for her hotel and I was kind of concerned that she wouldn’t make it back safely but she pulled out a card that already had her name, and the address of her hotel printed on it and pinned it to her shirt.  On the bottom of it was a phone number explicitly “for bail”.  True story.


Then she winked at me and placed her finger on the side of her nose and it was kind of like when Santa Clause goes up the chimney in that poem except I think maybe she was gesturing that she was going to snort something in the bathroom first.  Then she left and my roommate was all “Dude.  What…the fuck…just happened?” and I’m all “I have no idea.  But I think maybe it was awesome”.  And she’s all “Yeah.  I think it actually was awesome”.  And then we passed out.  The end.

PS.  Also, I asked PBS’s Nina to sign my boobs and she refused and then scampered off like a frightened bunny.  I totally forgot that even happened until now because of all the other shit that was going on.  That’s kind of the sign of a good party.  Or a terrible one.  Probably both.

PPS.  For real, y’all.  I’m not making this up:

Phone number pixelated to protect both Nancy and those who would contact her.

Phone number pixelated to protect both Nancy and those who would contact her.

Comment of the day: Here’s my Nancy story: met her in the bathroom, exchanged some exchanges, we chatted with the housekeeper who was getting off soon. Nancy rooted for a few bills and graciously tipped the housekeeper, who then left. Seconds later, someone broke a glass in the bathroom. I had to fetch the housekeeper, who seemed more than happy to come back. I think Nancy is psychic and knew that was going to happen and pre-tipped. To ensure promptness. Nancy is the new Chuck Norris. ~ Deb on the Rocks

There was almost a serial killer at our party. Like, at least one. But there were like 800 people there so statistically there could have been more. I don’t really know serial killer statistics.

Remember how last post I mentioned that Chris Mann was coming to perform at the People’s Party tonight and that it would probably be awkward because I once accidentally told him that he reminded me of a serial killer?  Honestly, he’s like identical to Sylar from Heroes ,who actually is a serial killer, or possibly might not be any more since I stopped watching after season one.  But basically to me they are the exact same person and I’m shocked that I’m the first one to bring this up because of all the evidence.:

sylar1 chris 1

sylar1 chris 2

sylar3 chris3



sylar1 chris 1

Moral: If you’re going to be a musician you should make sure there’s not a serial killer out there that looks like you, or maybe kill him before he gets popular. The serial killer that is. No one is advocating killing Chris Mann because honestly when you ask a famous musician if you can take a picture of them licking your head so you can post about how much they remind you of a serial killer and they’re all “Oh.  Yeah, of course” it’s a sign that they are completely awesome or totally high.  Possibly both.

PS. Contrary to popular belief, Nancy W. Kappes (Paralegal) was totally at the People’s Party and was not imaginary.  More to come.

Comment of the day: LISTEN, JENNY, I am NOT making this shit up, but I saw Idina Menzel in concert in Louisville and Chris Mann opened for her, and while we were all waiting for Idina to come out at the end, Chris Mann came out and chitchatted and was really awesome. (The story gets better, I promise.) And then he was chitchatting with my friends, and I said something innucuous like, “Do you want me to take a picture?” and Chris Mann turns to me and goes, “Did you just say ‘Big Black Whores’?” NO CHRIS MANN, I DID NOT, NOT EVEN CLOSE, and you don’t even know me well enough to know that I MIGHT say something like that. BUT I DIDN’T. Where did that come from Chris Mann? WHERE?!?!

PS. He was (is, I’m sure) a really delightful performer though. Just slightly hard of hearing. ~ emmysuh

This post is for people who definitely are or are not going to Blogher

So the other day Victor was talking about Necromancers except that he was saying something wrong about them and I can’t remember what it was because I didn’t write that part down but I do know that he started yelling at me in the middle of a crowded movie theater that I didn’t know what a necromancer was and I’m all “THE FUCK I DON’T” and he’s all “Fine. What’s a necromanther?” and I’m all “Well I don’t know because that word doesn’t exist” and he’s all “I will walk out of this theater” and I’m all “Why?  Because my ability to identify a necromancer is making you so mad that you’re losing your ability to pronounce shit correctly?” and he’s all “I will stab you right here in front of God and everybody”.  Then I’m all “Just because you know that I know what a necromanther is” and then in my head I’m all “Fuck. I cannot believe that I just said ‘necromanther’ too” and I thought maybe he wouldn’t notice but he crossed his arms and gave me this smug look with one eyebrow raised and he’s all “Fine.  What’s a necromanther?” I’m all “It’s…half dead person, half…panther.”  Then the person in front of us turned around and looked at me like “WTF?” and I’m all “I also know what a necromancer is”.  Then the movie started and Victor just shook his head like he didn’t believe me and the guy in front turned back around and I’m all “I actually have a large vocabulary” and then the guy in front cleared his throat like he wanted me to be quiet and I’m all “Dude.  You are wearing a scarf with a t-shirt. You don’t get to judge me” except I didn’t say it out loud because I’m nonconfrontational.  Also, I just wrote “nonconfrontational” and spellcheck is all “That word doesn’t exist” but was totally cool with the word “necromanther” which I think I just convinced spellcheck is a real thing.

And speaking of panthers, yesterday Victor mentioned how it was good that there weren’t any vampire horses around because they would be super creepy even if they were friendly and were just smiling at you and I’m all “Yeah, but you know who does have vampire fangs and drinks blood?  Fucking panthers, that’s who.”  And he’s all “Panthers don’t drink blood” and I’m all “What do you think they eat?  Cheese pies?” and he’s all “They drink water, dumb-ass” and I’m all “And they drink blood when they eat their prey.  Plus?! They die if you shoot them with a silver bullet so that’s even proofier” and he’s all “What the hell?  Are you talking about werewolves?” and I’m all “I’M TALKING ABOUT VAMPIRE PANTHERS”.  Then the stewardess came by and asked me to keep my voice down and I’m sorry but that’s what’s going to happen when you seat me and my husband in two different rows.

Are you still here?  Because this whole post is kind of giving me a headache and it’s about to get even more convoluted because I’m leaving for the Blogher conference in Chicago day after tomorrow and I usually end up unintentionally causing drama so I just want to take this opportunity to apologize in advance for whatever your problem is, whore.  Also, I’m just kidding about calling you a whore in my apology.  Probably.  I guess it depends on who you are.  Please leave your grievances with me in the comment section so I can be prepared.  Also, remember that Blogher is all about what you bring to it so my advice to you is to bring lots of booze.  And if you forget, just remember that the night before Blogher is The People’s Party (Thursday) and everyone is invited.  This means you.


Free drinks and swag while it lasts but bring cash because so far we’ve had like 700 people RSVP so we’ll probably run out of booze money the day before while we’re still setting up.  Unless there isn’t going to be an open bar for us during set-up.  Then I’ll be downstairs at the bar while everyone else sets up.  Also, before you go to the People’s Party stop by the Social Luxe pre-party for some pampering.  At 4pm (also on Thursday) Tanis, Michelle and I are presenting the award for “The Funniest Blog” and none of us even got into the finals so Tanis and Michelle are going to set the stage on fire and I’m going to punch whoever wins.  We haven’t really discussed it but I’m pretty sure once I start punching they’ll figure out the game plan.  I am, however, in the finals for “Most Provocative Blog“, which shocked me until I actually looked up the word “provocative”, which apparently also means “to incite anger, to be purposely annoying”.  So basically there is no way I’m not winning that award.

Aren’t you tired of hearing about Blogher?  Me too, but I’m not done yet.  I’m apparently speaking on Saturday at a panel so you should come. I think we’re talking about ninjas.

Also, to combat my anxiety disorder I will be on a lot of xanax so I blame all the dumb stuff I’m going to do on that.  Also, please come talk to me because I spend a shocking amount of time wandering around looking for people I recognize but no one ever recognizes me and then I remember that I’m wearing a disguise because of the anxiety disorder.  So in order to make things easier, here are my three looks for the conference.

Look one: relatively normal me.


Look 2:  Jenny-Lewis-after-one-beer-bong:


Look 3: I-thought-this-wig-was-all-Pretty-Woman-hookerish-when-I bought-it-but-now-it-looks-all-Sharon-Osborne-as-a-cougar-and-also -why-am-I-wearing-Mrs.-Ropers-house-dress?:


Also, just to make this post even longer and more unweildy I’d like to give a shout out to the sponsors of The People’s Party, without whom we would all have to meet each other sober.  There should be pictures of them all here but my computer keeps crashing so instead it’s a kick-ass list of people who want to buy you a drink if you get there before all the drink tickets are gone:  PBS Sprout, Crocs, bTrendie, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey, Gerber, DisneyWorld Moms, Magic Beans,, Disney on Ice, Yummie Tummie, Kirtsy, Mom Central, Smashies, One 2 One Network, 3 smart girlz and more.  Also, the uber-hot Chris Mann will be performing live at the party in spite of the fact that I once drunkenly told him I suspected he was a serial killer.  This would all be more awkward if I wasn’t planning on hiding in the bathroom throughout the entire party.

Comment of the day: I find that adding whore to the end of everything, be it apology or praise, shows people you really mean what you say.

Love the post, whore. ~Just Shireen

Craft time with Nancy W. Kappes

I usually don’t do Nancy W. Kappes posts so close together but the Blogher Conference is coming up and that means the People’s Party is only a few weeks away and (partially to prove that she is not my own personal Tyler Durden) Nancy W. Kappes (Paralegal) is driving to the People’s Party and I take no responsibility for whatever she tries to sell you or put in your drink.  “Get a lid” would be my advice to you.  I actually have several bizarre posts for you but right now I’m driving back to Houston from West Texas and I can’t download my pictures because I can’t find my camera cord because that would be dangerous.  So without further ado, letters from Nancy:

Okay, motherfuckers: listen up. It’s Time for Arts and Farts and Crafts with Nancy W, Kappes, Paralegal.

Today we are going to make our Roller Wigs® for the Soiree in the City of the Big Shoulders, Hog-Butcher to the Nation, Where You Freeze Your Fucking Ass Off All Year Round—Chi-ca-gooo!


                Rollers (Size-Bloggess)

                Plastic cap

                Nitrous Oxide

                Needle (ha! gotcha!—not that kind)

                Strong thread

                Morphine Suppositories


                Large Bottle of Grey Goose



    Go to the Dollar Store and get the rollers. Go over to the hair colour section and pretend to look at the “Frost and Tip” kits. Snatch the cap with the little holes out of it and put it in your purse. Drive home and assemble ingredients.

  First off, get a large tumbler out of the cupboard and put 4 ice cubes in it. Get out the vodka, and put the glass with ice in the sink. ?  BECAUSE YOU DON’T NEED IT, YOU ASS-HAT!  Now take about 10-12 large gulps from the bottle. Wasn’t that fun? Now, insert your morphine suppository or ten [GET BACK HERE AND WASH YOUR HANDS, MISSY!] Then take a bit hit of the nitrous oxide. Set aside twenty minutes or so for incapacitation due to hysteria because ha! you just totally put your finger in your butt! [and yes, I AM in 2ndgrade.]

Now mark the level on the vodka with a sharpie. Don’t they smell good? Take another hit of nitrous oxide and immediately bring the level on the vodka bottle down two inches. Whoa! Now we’re ready. Take the cap with the little holes out of your purse, and open the bag of Bloggess-size rollers. Take another hit off the nitrous because your hands will need to be very steady. Now, try to thread the needle. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! How many tries did it take?? So, what you’re gonna do is, thread the string thru the appropriate holes in the cap (oh fer chrissakes, use your fucking head. Just do it the way Jenny has it.) Then, push the thread thru the rollers (I am using those funky Velcro rollers, just cause I like to stick them on myself.) Okay. Take another 2 inches off the level in the vodka bottle and a hit of nitrous and continue to “sew” the rollers on the cap a la Bloggess. Now laugh your ass off and think of just how much fucking fun we/me/you (only the Bloggess knows…) are totally going to have in the middle of July. 

Good job boys and girls! Tomorrow we will learn how to make a syringe out of a needle, eyedropper and rubber band! See you next time!

Nancy W. Kappes


Then like 10 minutes later I got this email from Nancy: 

FUCKITY FUCK FUCK! I totally forgot to include the drawing that goes along with the instructions for the Bloggess Roller Wig®! Hold off till tomorrow if you can because it’s 4:15AND I HAVE BEEN WORKING SINCE THREE O’CLOCK! WHEW! I am beat!

I swear (no shit) I will send it tomorrow!

And, please dear God, let up on the pain and the vomiting already! Jesus Christ. Well, yeah, you too.

Nancy W. Kappes


Then the next day I got this email which still does not have any picture attached but is still awesome even though I don’t really understand it and I think she might be yelling at me and also I voted for Obama and now I’m worried about him taking my drugs away because I need them y’all:

Jenny, Jenny, Bo-Benny, Banana fanna fo funny..JENNY

Fuck. I forgot  how that dumb-ass song goes. So how is the pain today? Mine is INTOLERABLE!!!!! 


   I mean, Christ in a rowboat here while fuck me running! If THIS is the kind of bloody, buggery bollocks this Ass-Hat President is gonna start…well…they just better make laudanum for an over the counter medication. And bring back the Opium Dens. I LIKED this guy! Why him wanna make us all pain-y and shit??

Damn. Now THAT is some sad motherfucking news. I’m more upset than Farrah Fawcett’s publicist. DO NOT be fuckin with the pharmaceuticals, bitches. I’m totally buying a safe. I refuse to be subjected to the humiliation of giving blow-jobs for opiates. Nuh-uh.

Okay. Anyway, I hope I didn’t offend any mommies out there with my rant. Sometimes I am unable to fold my napkin and things get a little fucked-up.  I knew at least not to raise a child like a veal calf. Only once did I smack my kid (just one, and just the once.) She had moved out for college, got an apartment with a friend, blah blah, yeah, friend flaked out, so she came home to live with me again. One Saturday as she was still sleeping (at 1pm) I woke her up to tell her I was going into work. She mumbled something, something, bitch and  POW! I cracked her upside her head like a mofo. We looked at each other like “Damn! I can’t believe that just happened!” Then, I said, “You know what? That felt really, really fucking good, so I suggest you get your act together and straighten the hell out!” Problem solved.

Okay, I’m almost finished. I do know that I raised my daughters well (even with no dad, support, anything) because I see what kind of mother my eldest daughter is. She makes the Virgin Mary look like Leona Helmsley.

I’m done.

Nancy W. Kappes




Comment of the day:  I’m out of vodka. Please ask Ms. Nancypants if tequila will work?    Fuck. This is why I hate crafts. ~ amo

It’s like the party before the party in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil except no one gets shot.

If you’re not going to Blogher then just skip this post. If you are going to Blogher then, yes. Everyone else feels like vomiting too. We’re all terrified and I will be hiding in the bathroom most of the time and if you think I’m kidding you need only look as far as other people’s pictures of me from previous years, which were pretty much all inside the toilet. But in spite of the anxiety and insanity and weirdness we will all come because we know we will hate ourselves more if we are missing out on the fun than if we are there pretending to have fun while secretly terrified that we will be left alone for more than a minute. Except for the night before Blogher, which is actually quite awesome because it’s the night of The People’s Party (so named because it’s given for everyone…not just the “cool” bloggers. In fact, you don’t even have to be going to Blogher to come. Everyone is welcome. This means you too, dudes.) and since it’s the night before Blogher starts, people are still tired and jetlagged but too wound up to sleep and that’s why you come down to our party at the hotel and drink and mingle and sit on the bathroom sink for four hours straight if you are me. And it is awesome. And officially time to RSVP, bitches.  Click the button, sil vous plait:


PS.  I’m scared too and that is totally normal.  Come find me and I will hug you.  I promise.   I’ll be the one who smells like xanax.

PPS.  Free booze while it lasts.  Which is not long considering how much we drink so we need more sponsors.  If you wanna be one, click the above button for more info.

PPPS.  This party is hosted by me, and the amazing women behind Green Mom ReviewIzzyMom, Motherbumper , Mrs. Fussypants , Playgroups Are No Place For Children , and Velveteen Mind.  None of us makes a dime off of it.  This is just for fun.  And also for free booze.  But mostly for the fun free booze.

PPPPS.  When I mentioned Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil I was talking about the book and not the movie, which was shit comparatively.

Free-booze-while-it-lasts sponsored by:







Comment of the day: Seeing the Sprout logo on the same website where I read about kitten mittens, clown porn, and banging weird looking guys just gave me an aneurysm. ~ Deb


Party like it’s 10 years ago (teaser #6)

Oh wait…no.  This one:

PS.  This post will not make sense to you at all unless you start here first and follow the breadcrumbs. And even then it probably won’t make much sense.  Unless you’ve been  reading me for over a year and then you’ll be all “Oh, I remember this.  Jenny drinking in the men’s bathroom and acting inappropriately in front of famous people.  Didn’t that end badly?”.  And yes.  Yes, it did.  More tomorrow.

PS.  I apologize to my amazing blogger cohosts for posting a completely inappropriate Prince badge in front of the one that was assigned to me but it’s much better than the one I was going to use, which is this picture of the most bad-ass tattoo in the history of the world

Honestly, that’s pretty much the best tattoo ever.  Especially when you’re sitting naked on the exam table and the doctor is all “We think you have colon cancer but I need to really get up in there to check”.  And your legs are all “IT’S TIME TO PARTY” and you’re all “Shut up, legs!”  Awesome.  You know what else is awesome?  When you’re supposed to write a two sentence teaser about a party and you end up blogging about colon cancer.  It’s like a gift.

Comment of the day: “Game: Blouses.” ~ WineWonkette