The Bloggess

Where’s Rory? (UPDATED)

August 4, 2015in FURIOUSLY HAPPY, Giant metal chickens are everywhere, International incidents, Random Crap

So. Next month my new book comes out and if you read here often enough you’re already familiar with Rory, the gloriously ecstatic and somewhat terrifying taxidermied road-kill raccoon who graces the cover.

When you read the book you’ll learn all about Rory, and also more about how my anxiety disorder makes it hard to leave the house at times. These things seem unrelated but when my publisher first started making cardboard standees to send to book sellers I mentioned how nice it was that all of these cardboard raccoons were traveling so bravely around the world as my stand-in.

Next month I’ll start traveling for months (off and on) during my book tour but I already know from my first tour that I’m not really strong enough to see anything of the cities that I’ll travel to, except for the blanket fort I’ll make in my hotel room and the wonderful people who’ll come to bookstores to listen to me read. It probably seems like a waste of travel to the average person but I know that I don’t have the physical or mental stamina to see the sites or landmarks. And that’s a little sad, but it’s also sort of wonderful to finally acknowledge my limits and recognize them and to not push myself past them…to know that taking care of myself is more important than seeing the world.

But when I first saw the cardboard Rory raccoons being made I thought of the traveling gnome prank (the practice of stealing a garden gnome and sending postcards and pictures of the gnome traveling the world to the owner) and thought how lovely it would be if some of these Rorys could travel around the world and see all of the amazing things that so many of us never see. And my publisher (who is strange enough to agree to put a dead raccoon on the cover of a book) agreed completely and sent me a lovely cardboard Rory. I photographed him all around the house.

With my pets:

wheresrorypets — Ferris Mewler, Hunter S. Thomcat, Dorothy Barker and Rory.

With Beyoncé:

With James Garfield:

And even with the original Rory:

Then my friend Laura took Rory with her on a few weeks of travel. He was with her at Blogher, and she texted me pictures of old friends with Rory as I sat at home and suddenly felt so much less lonely than I had before.

Then came pictures of him in New York.

If a dead raccoon can make it here he can make it anywhere. I'm paraphrasing. — If a dead raccoon can make it here he can make it anywhere. I’m paraphrasing.

And then he was jetted off to the beach.

And he joined in on a family vacation.

And each time a picture would come in I’d feel like I was there. And I’d share the picture with Hailey and Victor and we’d all laugh at the ridiculous wonder of a small raccoon seeing the world. And Laura would tell me hysterical stories of people she’d met because they were so intrigued with this bizarre, ecstatic cardboard raccoon who was lounging on beach chairs, or riding on ferris wheels, or watching a Broadway play.

And it was lovely.

We haven’t even started and already I’m thrilled. But let’s keep going. Do you have someplace you think Rory needs to see? Do you want to take him with you to see a landmark, share a photo of him and then pass him on to someone else who can photograph him in another new place? The Eiffel Tower? The world’s largest ball of twine? Horseback riding? Being hugged by sloths? Balancing on the head of your great-grandmother? Just leave me a comment (with your email so I can contact you) and I’ll send dozens of Rorys into the world so we can see what happens.

I’ll be updating this post with new pictures as they come in, and sharing them online using the #WheresRory hashtag. I hope you’ll enjoy vicariously seeing the world through the eyes of a tiny, couch-surfing, furiously happy raccoon as much as I do.

PS. If you simply can’t wait for someone to mail you a Rory you can make one yourself. Just click here, print the pdf, glue it on something stiff and cut it out. BOOM. You’re in business. Or you can buy a hard-plastic photo-sculpture here. You can share links and pictures in the comment section and I’ll update it as Rory travels.

PPS. Thank you. This is ridiculous and I know that but I also know that you people are magic with ridiculousness, and that instead of judging me you’re more likely to take this someplace I’d never imagine. You are made of stardust. Thank you.

UPDATED: GO LOOK AT THESE PICTURES, Y’ALL.

And that’s why I don’t trust science.

August 2, 2015in Random Crap, stuff better left unpublished, weekly reruns

People always say that every snowflakes is unique, but I’m not sure if I believe it because really who’s checking? Probably somebody just looked at a few dozen snowflakes and said, “Fuck, these things all look slightly different” and then just shrugged and wrote down that “no two snowflakes are alike” because he was cold and ready to go inside and watch Doctor Who. And even if someone called him on it and was all, “Ten points off because you didn’t show your work” then he’d be like, “IT MELTED, ASSHOLE” and no one could question him because that’s how snow works. No one ever cares about disproving the science of snowflake individuality even though it seems like mathematically there should be snowflake twins and dopplegangers at least. It’s not like there’s a snowflake fingerprint database. No one keeps records on snowflakes.

And that’s why I don’t trust science.

*******

And now, 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.):

“YOU CAN DO IT, FRANK!” This is a nice shirt because if you happen to be walking past someone named Frank he’ll feel buoyed by your encouragement, and if you’re walking past people who aren’t Frank they’ll just think you’re a nice person and probably be encouraged to lend you money.

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

Shit you should buy or steal because it’s awesome:

Ignore Everybody (And 39 Other Keys to Creativity). Whenever I start to doubt myself, I re-read this book.

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by Calm-A-Mama. “Motherhood is hard. Life is hard. Let us help. Supplement your body and soul with nourishing and restorative blends of traditional herbal and flower extracts. Gentle enough for the whole family. We support you so you can be awesome.” ~ Calm-A-Mama. Here’s a quick video about their products. We use a few of their products ourselves, including calm drops at night.

How fucking old am I?

July 31, 2015in Random Crap

A friend of mine gave me a high school graduation picture of her daughter and it was lovely but you wouldn’t have known it was a graduation picture if it didn’t have that written at the bottom of the picture, and I was like, “Do they not wear fur coats in graduation pictures any more?” and then she looked at me like I was insane.

Is this not a thing any more? Was it ever a thing? Because every girl I knew in high school wore a fur stole in her graduation photo. And in retrospect it was a little weird because you’d have to take off your bra an hour before so you wouldn’t have any bra lines so all the senior girls would sit in the gym with their bras on their laps, waiting for their bra lines to fade and wearing the communal tube tops that made you feel even more glamorous.

I remember wanting to take a picture of each girl’s full body while they were posing for their graduation picture because their hair was always Texas-big and they’d be draped in a communal fake mink stole, but from the nipple down it was all tube tops and overall bottoms and short-shorts and flip flops and farmer tans. But none of us ever took pictures of it because that was before there were cameras in phones. Hell, we didn’t even have the technology to photoshop out bra lines.

Was it just my school where the senior portraits always looked like inexpensive glamour shots?

Me in the 90's. My hair was actually very small for Texas. — Me in the 90’s. My hair was actually very small for Texas.

I’m on a lot of cold medication so it’s possible this isn’t as funny as I think it is.

July 28, 2015in BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN, no one thinks this is funny but me, Random Crap

I’m on a lot of cold meds but I thought you’d enjoy. Or not. Stop judging me. I’m sick.

They’re in my shop if you want one, but be aware that everyone you wear it around is going to tell you that your shirt is on inside out. But then you can flash them a raccoon face (and flash them in general if you aren’t wearing something underneath) and they won’t bother you again. EVERYONE WINS.

PS. A few of you are having trouble getting the video to load so (spoiler alert) this is what you’re missing:

Well, it’ll be an interesting death at least

July 26, 2015in Random Crap, weekly reruns

A friend of mine just emailed this to me:

My team:

Pocket from Fool. “Heinous fuckery, most foul!”

Leslie Knope from Parks and Recreation.

Zombeavers. I don’t know who the real protagonist is in this movie but I sort of think it’s the zombie-beavers because they were the ones I was rooting for by the end.

So I guess the answer is that I’m pretty screwed, but at least it’ll be an interesting way to die. You?

PS. I still have the plague and it’s getting worse. If someone near you coughs like they’ve been living in a coal mine just set them on fire. It’ll keep you safe and at this point, I half suspect they’d thank you for putting them out of their misery.

*******

And now, 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.):

I was too sick to make anything but this magnet is always a favorite.

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

Kick-ass stuff I pinned.
I’d hang out with this squirrel. Also, “sozzled” is my new favorite word.
My Slavic grandparents would be very proud. Or mortified.
Hunter S. Thomcat doing a perfect impression of what my throat feels like right now.

Shit you should buy or steal because it’s awesome:

I never understood the draw of paying money for nice dishes. Until now.
The Worrier’s Guide to Life by Gemma Correll

This week’s wrap-up is brought to you by the book NEVER FOUL A JUMP SHOOTER, A Guide To Basketball Lingo, Lessons and Laughs. The book began as the author having fun with a few quirky basketball expressions, such as “penetrate and dish” and “a foul waiting to happen” but then it just kept growing into a humorous look at wonderfully colorful basketball expressions. But this is not a dictionary. Or a story with beginning, middle and end. The next time you’re watching a game and you hear an announcer say, “The bank is open,” or a post-game interviewer ask a player, “How big was this win?” and the player answer, “It was huge,” or hear a player “thanking God” after a victory, just open this book, find the term and have a chuckle. Because basketball is about life, and life is better when we can all laugh at ourselves just a little. You should check it out here.

The small things are the big things.

July 24, 2015in depression lies, more than meets the eye, Random Crap

I had a post for today but I couldn’t finish it because my head isn’t working properly right now. Some of this is because my head is always broken. Some is from how bleak the news has been lately and I tend to fixate on that stuff. Some is because we’re supposed to be at a family reunion right now but we’re not because we’re all sick with what I assume is the plague. I was going to post something simple and just go back to bed but I know that the only way I’m coming out of this is to do it the hard way, and that means refocusing on the good.

I don’t know why it’s so hard to do that sometimes. When good things happen we tend to weigh them in a smaller way or compare them to others or to feel guilt for having good things happen because others in the world are suffering. But the good things are what make the world go around. The good things are what give us strength to go on. The good things are what we wish for everyone we love, and for strangers, and for strangers who will one day be people we’ll love. The good things and good people are what make you realize that things are so much better than we think, and that life is both dark and disturbing but also brilliant and amazing. The tiny things add up. We carry the tiny bad things with us because they stick to our skin in painful ways but often we forget the tiny good things. And the giant good things. So today I’m refocusing from the negative and celebrating the things that bring me joy. You do it too. Tell me what you’re proud of today. Tell me what brought you joy recently. Tell me of someone who inspires you. I need that. I think we all do.

I’ll go first:

Hailey snuggled up to me last night while we were watching tv and said that she sort of liked it when we were all sick at the same time because it’s nice to have a reason to watch cartoons together.

Yesterday I got a text from a friend saying “Check your porch” and she’d dropped off chicken soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I cried a little.

FURIOUSLY HAPPY is being translated into Italian. I am taking over the world.

This is real, y’all. It’s called a sea bunny and it’s really more of a sea slug but I love it so much. There are tiny bunnies hiding in the sea, you guys.

And if there are sea bunnies out there then God knows what else is around the corner. Kittens that never grow up? Puppies that don’t have buttholes? A brownie that makes the plague go away?

The world is full of possibilities.

Your turn. Tell me sometime good.

PS. This is Angel. She’s 18 and is a foster mother to baby kittens. She’s not the person grooming the monkey. She is the monkey.