The Bloggess

Comfort books. Is this even a thing?

May 1, 2016in Random Crap, weekly reruns

I was just talking with Victor about comfort books…those books that you read over and over because you find them comforting even if you don’t understand why. He thinks I’m insane and possibly I am, but there are certain books I turn to when my head is in a weird place and I need to go somewhere I’ve been before and relax. I’d tried to explain it to him and he almost understood until I started listing a few and then I realized that most of my comfort books are full of murder and angst and bizarreness and are not really what anyone in the world would consider to be a happy or relaxing read. Books like Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and Geek Love and From the Dust Returned and The Stranger. Worn copies of Bloody Business and Stiff and The 3 Faces of Eve and Alice in Wonderland and pretty much any of the Sookie Stackhouse series. Books that may not make it on my top ten list, but that I compulsively read again and again.

I wonder if I’m the only one like this? Are these the books my head feels comfortable with because I first read them when I was in a good place and my mind unconsciously wants that again? Or does the darkness of the books remind me that I’m not alone, or that it could be worse? I have no idea. So I thought I’d ask you. What are your comfort books? The ones you’ve read over and over…more times than you’ve read your very favorite books. The ones you’d take on a desert island as a medicine, or would need to pull out on a turbulent plane ride? Do those books even exist for you?

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And now, the weekly wrap-up:

Inside the TARDIS you'll find Jenny wielding a sonic screwdriver, Neil Gaiman in a monkey hat, Beyonce the giant metal chicken, Hamlet von Schnitzel, Juanita Weasel in a Traveling Red Dress, Nathan Fillion holding twine, A TARDIS in the TARDIS for time traveling when you're traveling in time, Wil Wheaton collating paper, and a Wolf Blitzer at the door. — These are a few of my favorite things.

Shit I made in my shop (Named “EIGHT POUNDS OF UNCUT COCAINE” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):

I made this shirt to wear at the grocery store so that no one tries to make small talk with me and also I often get to go to the front of the line. Works well in all scenarios for introverts.

Shit-you-may-or-may-not-want-to-see:

This is so accurate it’s slightly frightening.
Best book I read this week: Through the Woods. (Creepy graphic novel. Full of awesome.)

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Jodi Aman’s book: You 1, Anxiety 0: Win your life back from fear and panic to keep calm in a crazy world. Man has been a therapist for 20 years and suffered from debilitating anxiety herself. About the book: “Anxiety doesn’t play fair. It antagonizes you. It lies to you. It steals away the best parts of you. Don’t let it keep cheating you out of happiness! You are too important. This book speaks to why you suffer from anxiety, exposes the tricks anxiety uses to get power, and shares the skills you need to empower yourself and retrain your brain.” I haven’t read it yet but I’m putting it on my to-read list. Check it out here.

GIVE ME THIS CAR, CADILLAC. YOU WILL ALMOST CERTAINLY NOT REGRET IT.

April 28, 2016in marketing done right

So. Last night I picked up Hailey from her stage make-up classes and this week they did zombies and serial killers and – because my car has fallen for every zombie trope available – it immediately went dead and stranded me there with a bunch of undead children.

Victor came to jump me off (not a euphemism) but my car was like, “Nope. I see dead people. Fuck y’all. Leave me out of this” and so we had to have it towed. Then this morning I was noticing that lots of other big bloggers have ads all over their instagrams and twitter and shit and I never do so I thought maybe it was just because I’m not pitching properly and I decided to start sending out test ads to car companies to they could see how awesome I was at ad copy and then they could give me a car because I think that’s how ads work? I don’t know. I don’t really do them but I figured I would start big since I don’t know the limits. So I sent out tweets like these:

Driving a @OfficialChevy made me fulfilled as a woman & cured all my split ends. #notanadYET

and

Driving a @Cadillac was so exciting I got an erection and I don’t even own a penis. #notanadYET

I was about to send out my next one (FORD: More space. More towing capacity. More room for the bodies in the trunk. Isn’t it about time? #notanadYET) but then Victor was like, “Hey, your new car is here” and I was all, “JESUS, THAT WAS QUICK. I JUST STARTED TWEETING.” But then he stared at me in confusion because it turns out he was talking about the loaner car he just picked up for me. BUT! This sort of seems like fate because I really like this car AND it totally has a hundred dents from hail damage all over it and it’s used so technically Cadillac would be getting off cheap if they just let me have it.

unnamed-34 — Nice. But…it’s missing something.

Plus, I have a deal for you, Cadillac. Give me this car and I will personally pay to have a unicorn fighting a narwhal airbrushed on the hood. That way you win because people are gonna be like, “WTF? Caddy has changed with the times. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I NEEDED THAT CAR UNTIL THIS MOMENT” so it’s great publicity for you, and I get a free car with a unicorn and a narwhal battle on it. Plus, for once Victor can’t say that I’m not allowed to immortalize great scenes of history on the hood of my car “because we paid too much for you to ruin a car with your ridiculousness, Jenny” because WE DIDN’T EVEN PAY FOR THE CAR.

Everyone wins. Especially you, Cadillac. And America. And the unicorn. Because a unicorn would totally win in this battle. Unless it took place underwater. Then I have to rework the odds.

So what I’m saying, Cadillac, is that you need me. And I need this car. I need a car that brings joy and whimsy to the world. Let’s do this thing.

PS. I tried to get Victor lay on the hood like a model and he just walked away so then I thought I’d put my papillon (Dorothy Barker) on the hood but Victor was like, “YOU DON’T PUT DOGS ON HOODS, JENNY. EVEN TINY DOGS.” This is exactly the kind of bullshit I’m working with every day, Cadillac. Help me, Cadillac. You’re my only hope.

PPS. Spellcheck refuses to even recognize the word “narwhal”. It’s all “Did you mean navel?” What the shit? Why would a unicorn battle with a belly-button? This is why narwhal awareness is so important. Let’s start this conversation before it’s too late, Cadillac.

#notsponsored #notanad #TOTALLYSERIOUSABOUTTHISOFFER

There’s a demon in our house. Or a bug. Maybe both.

April 26, 2016in why yes I do know how to operate an EMF detector, You people scare me and I sort of love it.

Last night Ferris Mewler found what might be a demon and I live-tweeted it the entire terrifying experience. I can’t figure out how to embed it so click here for the whole story.

Spoiler alert: I’m still alive. Unless the demon is typing this. Hard to tell with demons.

I BELIEVE I CAN FLY. ~ MAVERICK

April 24, 2016in Random Crap, weekly reruns

Today I saw this duck at the pharmacy drive-thru (AKA: the drug-hole) and he was looking kinda lonely. Victor thought maybe he missed his flight but I think probably he was just tired of looking at duck butts and decided to travel alone. But then I got worried because what if he was sick and needed me to take him home, so I got out of the car and was like, “Heeeere, Maverick Maverick Maverick” (because I’d already named him Maverick) and then Maverick was like, “Who?” (because I guess he didn’t know his awesome name yet) and started to back up (because he apparently did know about stranger danger).

But then he started doing this thing where instead of flying he just jumped really happily like he was skipping. And it was so awesome and full of joy. But then I thought maybe he was also full of worms or something because what kind of ducks skip? But then Maverick was like “THAT WAS FUN BUT ENOUGH SKIPPING. I’M OUTIE, BITCHES” and he flew majestically away. And it was beautiful.

So now this picture of Maverick doing the joyful pogo-jump is my new favorite thing ever:

maverick being awesome — “Wheeeeee!” ~ Maverick

Let’s all be Maverick today, y’all. Not like, skipping everywhere. Just skipping in our hearts. Unless you want to skip in real life because I do it all the time and it’s actually a really good work out. If there was a skipping marathon I’d totally almost think about doing it (but then not do it because that sounds like it’d be sweaty).

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And now, the weekly wrap-up:

Art from Annie Wilson, who is adorable and far too young to read this blog. STOP READING, ANNIE. DO YOUR HOMEWORK.

Shit I made in my shop (Named “EIGHT POUNDS OF UNCUT COCAINE” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):

I made you a Mother’s Day card. It’s super classy.

Shit-you-may-or-may-not-want-to-see:

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by this kickstarter for KinderPerfect – a new card game for frazzled parents. From them: “Our aim is to take the everyday pain of parenthood and turn it into an excuse for mommy juice! KinderPerfect will contain 200 casino-quality cards that can be played as a stand-alone game, or used in combination with similarly formatted word association games like Cards Against Humanity or Apples to Apples. We’re sponsoring Design Parties across the USA, and anyone can submit a card idea – if we use it in the final game, we’ll send you a free deck.” You should check it out right here.

Read me.

April 22, 2016in important stuff, Random Crap

Yesterday I just hid away from the internet because Prince, but then I listened to Prince again with new ears when he said “Life is like a party, and parties weren’t meant to last.” And it’s true. Which is why we have to grasp at happiness and brilliance and life while it’s here, because if Prince taught me anything it’s that it’s later than you think so taste everything, and also that berets are always awesome.

Yesterday was also the day I walked out to my mailbox and found a book I’d been waiting for for years, Stephen Parolini’s Stolen Things.

If you’ve ever heard me speak about the process of writing I always say how important it is to surround yourself with great writers who make you better than you are, and I’m lucky enough to have six amazing people who are always willing to listen and read and push me in ways that I couldn’t have found myself. One of those people is Stephen Parolini, without whom my books would not have existed because he is an amazing sounding board and often inspired me to write things I never would have. We all have Stephens in our lives, if we’re lucky. People who understand the dark and the light. People who push you to do more even when you’re not sure you can. People who you might not recognize on the street because you know them almost entirely from the magic of the internet, but who understand you even when you don’t always understand yourself. You probably won’t have heard of Stephen unless you’ve searched him out or had his work passed to you by a friend who instantly knew you had to see it.

This is my favorite of Stephen’s books, partly because of the beautiful writing and subject matter, but also because I’ve seen so many incarnations of this book as it came to fruition. I’ve read it to Hailey when she was younger and she offered her own critiques (few) and enthusiastic responses (many) as we explored a strange and dark and magical world. When she saw the final book in my hands she grabbed it and shouted “WE HELPED MAKE THIS” with such glee. And we did. In the same way that you and Stephen and everyone who touched me helped to write my books. He’s a part of our community and worked for years to put this out and I’d love to see it do really well. So well that everyone who ever rejected it would say “Oh. Well, shit.” Not necessarily for him, because he deals with that stuff way better than I do, but because so many people have magnificent stories in them that never see print, and those that continue to push until their stories are heard need to be celebrated.

So. First off, go buy this book. Then leave a comment and I’ll choose a few to send gift cards so you can buy whichever book you think needs more recognition. And one more thing. If you’ve made something (A book. A painting. A store. A child. A blog. Anything.) and you want more eyes on it or just to talk about it, leave it in the comments. Or if you have a friend or idol who made something amazing that you think doesn’t get the recognition it deserves leave a link. You might just find something you’ve been looking for all along. And life is too short to miss out on those things.

And that’s the secret to a 20 year marriage.

April 19, 2016in Random Crap

Victor is out of town but he constantly texts me because he knows I hate to talk on the phone and yesterday when I was picking up my meds I was digging through my purse for my debit card when a new text came in and I could see that the cashier was reading it but at that point I didn’t even care if she was judging me because it was pretty obvious I was there to pick up drugs to fix my head so she already knew what she was getting into, but then I looked at my phone and the texts showing were:

Victor: I just threw up in the airport. Then toilet water splashed on me and I might be dying.

me: Ew. I’ll distract you. There was a guy at the gas station with a t-shirt that said “WHILE YOU WERE READING THIS I FARTED” and now I know what I want for my back tattoo. Also, sorry about the toilet water. I think that’s how you get cholera.

Victor: Yes, I am looking for something to kill myself with.

So I looked at the cashier and she looked back at me and I was like, “AND THAT’S THE SECRET TO A SOLID 20 YEAR MARRIAGE” and then she really hurried to get me my meds so basically everyone wins. Except for Victor who is a super germaphobe and has probably scraped off all of his skin with a pumice stone by now.