The Bloggess

The things coinstar wouldn’t take

March 3, 2009in "Bloggessed" is the new puce, "Kawasakied" is the new black., phoning it in, Random Crap

Did you know that you can break the Coinstar machine if you put in a bunch of random stuff? Also, today I’ve taken 12 prescription pills, including the chemo drug that causes the cancer that I don’t have yet and it’s actually making me feel much better but incredibly groggy so I can’t even think of something appropriate to write for you to comment on. Hence, the comments are completely open for anything. Deep confessions, words you don’t like, what animal you wish would go extinct next, which weird-looking celebrities you would sleep with if you had the chance…go wild, y’all.

Comment of the day: Okay, seriously?! I give you nothing and you give me 400 comments. I can’t possibly choose just one comment for comment of the day so I’m going to have to create an entire post from these comments because you people are fucked up in the most beautiful way. Comments are still open if you still want in.

This is like a “What I did over the summer” essay except it’s about giant labias.

March 1, 2009in bizarre, blogging about blogging again, conversations, I am totally overrated, If I was a dog I'd be dead by now, mixing medications, Posts that will get me hate mail, Random Crap, sickness

So the other day my friend (Tracy) was telling me about this documentary he saw about this woman who had a tiny upper body but everything from her waist down was enormous and I was all “My God. I bet her labia is huge” and that’s when Tracy put down his fork and said he wouldn’t eat lunch with me anymore.

Me: But scientifically it makes sense that her labia would be enormous. If I were her I’d roll it up with binder clips. Or those pink soft curlers we slept in when were little.

Tracy: Yeah…I’m a dude, remember?

Me: And then on special occasions she lets it out of the curlers and bingo: …spiral perm. Totally ready for prom.

Tracy: Hi. I’m eating tuna salad.

Me: But imagine what you could do with it. If you got attacked you could throw it on someone to swat them back or you could catch children jumping out of burning buildings. Or like in the olden days when women would use their aprons to hold apples?

Tracy: Huh.

Me: I’m just saying I wouldn’t eat an apple if you happen to be over at her house.

Tracy: If I happen to be at the home of the lady with the world’s largest labia I shouldn’t eat any apples?

Me: Yeah.

Tracy: Excellent advice.

Me: I bet it’s flat as a pancake too since it’s being squished by her legs. You could put a lantern behind it and make shadow puppets. It’s like a gift no one can ever use. Except I would totally use my giant labia. I’d entertain the whole world with it. Because that’s the kind of person I am. Saint-like. If I had an enormous labia I would change the world with it.

Tracy: So the only thing holding you back is…how small your labia is?

Me: Well it’s not like a handicap. I mean, I get by.

Tracy: Honestly, I don’t even know why I eat lunch with you.

Me: I’d say it’s roomy but compact. Like a balloon valance. Or a Honda Accord.

Then Tracy got all weird and was all “You aren’t supposed to tell me your vagina is like a Honda Accord!” and I’m all “You brought it up!” Then there was this awkward silence while I tried to look penitent and Tracy tried to look stern but technically I was just thinking about how a giant labia would be like a lap blanket on cold nights and Tracy was probably wondering what a balloon valance was. So then I was all “It’s like a tiny curtain” and Tracy was like “What?!” and I’m all “Oh never mind.”

Speaking of people whose bodies are trying to kill them, apparently God has heard me making fun of labias and decided to punish me with such severe rheumatoid arthritis that I’ve become practically bed-ridden. I’m like Job except without the erectile dysfunction. I finally got in to see the rheumatologist last week and he put me on a drug cocktail that includes another drug that starts with “meth” and ends with “all-your-hair-will-fall-out-if-you-don’t-take-a-daily-antedote” because apparently it’s a chemo drug. Why does it work for arthritis? No one fucking knows. True story. It’s in the pamphlet. Also, a side effect of the drug is that even though it’s a drug designed to battle cancer, IT FUCKING CAUSES CANCER. Like, not a lot but enough that they have to tell you you may get lymphoma at any time. Yay. And my arthritis has spread so now I can barely walk. I can only assume that in the next month I will be blogging using only my tongue. I’m on intermittent FMLA and would like to cross my fingers that the chemo drug will work but I must face the fact that I can’t cross my fingers because I FUCKING HAVE ARTHRITIS. That’s why I’m going to try out some new money-making ideas I can do from home, like prostitution or knitting. Except it turns out I can’t do either of those well and since we aren’t all blessed with the world’s largest labia I’m trying a new ad network called YouData. I don’t completely understand it but it’s awesome. It’s run by these guys I’ve known forever and they are huge blogging supporters and always hand me a martini every time I see them. Basically, you personally get paid for looking at ads geared to you. You set up your account and tell them who you are and they send you ads that you can chose to look at and get paid for. I got $4 yesterday for looking at a few ads on Kirtsy and gave half back to kirtsy to support them. They pay you through paypal or you can donate a portion to the blog you’re at or to a charity. Also, it’s an awesome personality test because my YouData ads are all for pretty, horribly bizarre things and offensive t-shirts and when Victor logs in it’s all expensive clothes and boobies. They totally nailed us.

Also, I plan on opening a few ad spaces when I feel better but I’m going to use one of those ads to pimp out random bloggers for free who you should read because they are awesome and/or amazingly loyal even when I give them a horrible long post about why arthritis is not as profitable as the world’s largest labia. This means you. Seriously, if you made it all the way to the bottom you are my new personal hero. If my hands weren’t claws I would applaud you.

PS. Best YouData ad I’ve gotten so far: Tampon flash drive.

Honestly, I should be paying them.

Comment of the day: Your tragic story gets me through the day. It’s like My Left Foot, but with only average size labia. So you’re twice as heroic. ~ Bananarama

If you don’t twitter just skip this. Or if you do. Either way really.

February 24, 2009in I am totally overrated, no one thinks this is funny but me, Post that people who don't twitter won't get, Posts that will get me hate mail, Random Crap

Random things I twittered last week after being insulted:

Then today I opened up my mail and discovered that BrentO had made me my very own twitter shirt:

It’s soft, fuzzy, immediately outdated and is so dorky that it’s infinitely cool it’s slightly awesome it looks like there’s a rainbow coming from my left boob.

PS. Twitter is like the DVD commentary to my blog. If you don’t read it you are missing such gems as:

I’d wish you all a Happy Presidents Day but I don’t know where the apostrophe goes.

Does the day *belong* to the President? Is it possessive? Plural? Plural possessive?

If I was Obama I’d be all “Bow down, assholes. This is MY day. Free ice cream for the President. Who is me.”

But he probably already gets free ice cream. If I was the president I’d ask everyone to send me Jewish greeting cards.

Not because I’m Jewish but because the Jewish card market is largely unsupported and it would help stimulate the economy.

I’m always thinking.

Am I the only one that has a special ring tone for Chase’s credit card collections department? They call me more than anyone I know.

If MLK told me “I have a dream…” I’d have been “Was it that one where all your clothes have turned into ferrets and you’re late for work?”

And then he’d get all distracted and forget what his dream really was. It’s probably a good thing I was never part of his posse.

If Jesus cared what you were going to do with semen he would have mentioned it in the Constitution.

So my coworker is all “I don’t even know where to begin on correcting you on that last twitter”

Apparently I said Jesus wrote “the Constitution” when I meant that he wrote “the Commandments”

And then it turns out Jesus didn’t even write the Commandments?!

And I’m all “The hell he didn’t!”

My coworker :Why don’t you look it up? It’s all probably all outlined in the Bill of Rights.

He’s kind of an asshole.

No! Jesus is not an asshole. Jesus is awesome. I love his wine trick. Fuck.

In other words, you should block me immediately if you haven’t already.

Comment of the day: I have a coworker whose boyfriend signed his cat up to twitter. The cat is so popular that soon he will have more followers than our company’s product has users. ~ Susan

Actually I did have have a lot of Christian followers

February 22, 2009in blogging about blogging again, functions I shouldn't be allowed to attend, phoning it in, Posts that will get me hate mail, Random Crap

Just got back from the Mom 2.0 Summit and it was awesome and terrible, like a tidal wave of French lotion you can’t afford. I’m too exhausted to write about it properly but it was pretty much like every other conference I’ve been asked to be on a panel for: You’re so terrified you give yourself hysterical laryngitis, the promoters make you drink a entire mug of warm honey because they hate you, you put on your confidence wig so if you fuck the panel up you can pretend it was someone else, at the last minute the moderator announces he’s hired an actor to do an interpretive reading from your blog and he screams about Jesus & semen in the style of Jerry Falwell, audience members unexpectedly throw vibrators across the room, blah, blah, blah.

Here’s a small peek until I recover enough to write the rest: (I’m the blonde crying in the back.)

PS. To be totally honest, this was the first time I’ve ever been asked to speak on a panel but I’m pretty sure this is all standard. It must have been pretty awesome though because afterward some people were so impressed they couldn’t even look me in the eye. Then later someone told me that now I’d have to beat off all the other promoters looking for chicks to speak at conferences and I was all “I don’t trade hand jobs for speaking engagements. I’m a professional“. Then someone else was talking about our social responsibility to use our blogs to help others and I felt guilty so I handed out printed copies of my blog posts to babies because they don’t even have enough muscle control to scroll. It’s pretty much like working with the disabled except more noble because babies will never subscribe to your blog. Babies are like the lepers that didn’t come back to Jesus after he cured them.

PPS. More to come once I’ve recovered unless I get distrac-ooh, dust!

Best euphamism for vagina in a comment: I don’t think I’ve ever used the word vagina in my bog. That’s probably why you’re an international superstar, and I’m just a sad mommy blogger. I’ve got to talk more about my vajango. ~ Hippo Brigade

UPDATED: Enough about my sweet dead friend. Let’s get back to me.

February 16, 2009in mixing medications, no one thinks this is funny but me, Random Crap, stuff better left unpublished, terrible titles

In honor of Terry’s wishes that I celebrate her passing with laughter instead of sorrow I’m posting something only slightly more depressing. I’ve officially been published. It’s the first time ever I’ve ended up in something hard-copy unless you count that time when my vagina was mentioned in Barstool Magazine, which I don’t unless I’m drunk and then I’m all “Did you know my vagina was published?” and Victor makes me go sit in the car and wait for him to pay the bill.

Anyway…me being published. It’s called The Printed Blog and basically it’s exactly like online newspapers that have blogs in them except exactly the opposite. It’s a printed newspaper composed completely of blog content. It’s pretty much the stupidest idea ever and I’m totally on the front page!

Me: I’m on the front page of a newspaper!

Victor: You’re already in a newspaper.

Me: Yes, but this is a printed newspaper! You can pick it up and hold it! Well, except that you can’t actually hold it because they don’t print it here. But it’s in Chicago! And San Francisco! And possibly New York although they weren’t too clear on that.

Victor: So…basically you’re being seen by an even smaller audience than ever.

Me: I’M FAMOUS!

Victor: *cough* World’sGreatestGrampa.*cough*

Me: You’re just jealous that I’m out there making a difference. Even now, homeless people are sleeping under a newspaper I contributed to! Fish are being wrapped in my article! Young children in subways are walking past the newstand asking their parents what “anal” means! BECAUSE OF ME!

Victor: What?

Me: I’m like a martyr who isn’t even dead yet!

Victor: You’re not getting paid for this either, are you?

Me: I AM SAVING THE WORLD THROUGH FREE NEWSPAPERS.

Then I walked off. Also, I should note that if you’re looking at this at work you should just look at the front page because starting on page two there’s some partial nudity. Also there’s more on page 3 and page 6 and there’s a half-nipple and a picture of two girls making out in bikini’s. Basically I’m writing for p0rn.*

*I said that to one of my coworkers and he was all “You’re getting paid in p0rn?! That is the best job ever!” I didn’t correct him though because I needed someone to make me feel good about myself so I was all “Yeah, it’s pretty awesome”.

PS. Dear The Printed Blog: Please send me a copy of the newspaper so I can frame it and also some p0rn so that I won’t be a liar.

PPS. Used p0rn is fine.

PPPS. Ew. Not “used” used p0rn. Lightly perused p0rn.

PPPPS. I debated whether or not to use this title but then I realized that Terry would have laughed her ass off at it so if you’re offended you should blame her and also you should feel really bad for blaming her because she was awesome and what the hell is wrong with you anyway?!

PPPPPS. Seriously? Thank you all for the kind words about Terry. I wish she was here to read them.

UPDATE: Holy crap. I’m on the front page again today, this time detailing my addiction to Meth. It’s right under that photo of Jesus saying “DON’T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE”. This is all going in the Christmas newsletter.

Comment of the day: Not to be a jerk, but Cracked told me that the word ‘peruse’ actually means ‘to read with thoroughness or care‘. So yeah, perused porn is basically even worse than used porn. ~ Liv

Terry

February 16, 2009in more than meets the eye

Anyone who’s been reading me a long time knows Terry, CancerDiva. We met through blogging years ago and I was lucky enough to be friends in real life with her as well. She had terminal cancer and through it all she found the humor in even the most awful parts. She laughed her ass off at my dumb cancer jokes and she made me a stronger person. The day she realized the chemo was causing all her hair to fall out she invited friends and family to her hair shaving party, where we all drank champagne and laughed and cried a little together. In the next year and a half Terry got worse but we still managed to squeeze in an occassional breakfast date or phone call. The last time I saw her I was sitting with her at the hospital. She slept while I wrote, then she woke up and smiled, then threw up, then laughed. I was all “Oh, never mind. That’s the usual effect I have on people”. Her sister, Bev, was generous enough to always keep me in the loop about Terry’s ups and downs and this morning I woke up to an email from Bev that Terry had died in the night.

For once I’m at a loss for words. Goodbye Terry. I’ll hold my family a little closer because of you.

Terry Hayes ~ Rest in peace, sweet friend.

Comment of the day: A beloved friend, Bev died a fortnight ago of cancer. She was teddy bear obsessed, and somehow I got my words switched within this post until i thought you were psychic and also trying to make me cry. Then I realised it’s 2am, and I’m a grief ridden insomniac. I’m so glad you are writing to stop me from eating my fingers off. Especially this. ~ Maddy