Things that probably won’t sell on facebook marketplace because no one is as weird as I am.

in Random Crap

My friend Xan sent me some giant easter bunny for Bone Crawford and I love them but…

Bone Crawford is no more. Or, actually she still exists but I had to take her down because we’re selling this house and moving to a smaller one in the same neighborhood because this house feels too big and empty now that Hailey has moved away to college. Sadly, Bone Crawford is one of MANY things that I now have to find new homes for because so much stuff doesn’t fit. I gave away a truckload of stuff and I’m going to put some stuff on eBay to help fund Hailey’s college but I have a shocking amount of weird shit that is too big to ship anywhere and my neighborhood doesn’t allow garage sales. Ideally I’d find a San Antonio collector with lots of space and weird tastes but I’m not super hopeful because here are just a few of the many, many things I need to sell:

The (working) head of a Middle-earth tree Ent.

Hand-painted 3-foot-tall faces of George and Martha Washington.

An entire footlocker filled with vintage mother-of-pearl buttons from a button factory, but they’re filthy and all need to be cleaned because the factory was abandoned for decades.

A very old plastic horse that I bought for Nowhere but it didn’t fit.

Bertram, the giant bear head.

An old english pram. Taxidermied head included, if needed.

An art door that I thought I could use as a real door but it didn’t fit anywhere.

A Victorian roller cranking organ with 10 incredibly haunted sounding songs on cobs.

Marie Antoinette parade statue from the 50s on top of a display filled with a dozen tiny wooden houses I built.

Literally dozens of weird prints on old book pages.

A wearable dress made out of damaged copies of my books.

A TARDIS bookcase that is too small for you to get into unless you are a baby.

A creaky victorian fold-up ladder that will absolutely not hold your weight even if you are said baby.

Also, a shocking amount of taxidermied animals in clothes, a number of haunted dolls (including one that moves), a communion tray of glasses in case you want to do a lot of shots with Jesus, an actual robot on wheels I bough during covid so that people could visit the store virtually but we ended up not using because the team thought it was too creepy, a metal chicken mixer where the drink pours out of the beak like it’s throwing up your cocktail, a purse made out of an alligator foot, and a partridge in a pear tree.

PS. The giant easter bunny ears were not wasted, as Sir Terry Scratchett is now happily wearing them at Nowhere:

A happy cry

in Random Crap

Y’all. I’ve been a bit of a wreck lately and part of that is another bout of pernicious anemia (which absolutely sounds like a Lemony Snicket disease) and also some other autoimmune disease (BECAUSE I GUESS I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH?) that I haven’t been able to get tested for because the doctor says I’m too weak to be under anesthesia now, but with added shots and meds I’m actually feeling almost human today (FUCKING WHOOP!) and was just reading the local news when this popped up and I literally cried.

I don’t know how to embed so you have to click on this but just…ow, my heart. I want to hug everyone on the Nowhere team and everyone who has ever loved us. Sometimes you don’t know how much you need some unexpected joy until it shows up.

And on Saturday if you’re near San Antonio you should come to the San Antonio Book Festival because it’s free, it’s fun and it’s amazing. So many of my favorite authors are going to be there doing talks and signings. I’ll be there at 10am interviewing comedian Aida Rodriguez about her incredible book, Legitimate Kid and then I’ll be in the Nowhere tent right afterward.

Come say hi, or just wave from afar if you’re an introvert like me. I’ll be hiding under a table probably.

My work is not always pretty, but it’s always honest

in Random Crap

If you’re subscribed to my art substack you get an email from me every Monday with a doodle I’ve drawn and a few words of what I’m thinking. It’s a bit more earnest than what I write here because my (incredibly amateur) art is a tool I use to battle the harder parts of myself and the world, but every few months I like to share a letter here, just in case you need it. Today is one of those day:

Dear friend,

I recently read about this psychological study where people who were placed at the bottom of a hill perceived the hill as being higher and more difficult to overcome if they were alone. But if people were placed there with a friend they perceived the hill as being less slanted. And if they were alone but allowed to text a friend they perceived the hill as being even less difficult to climb. Supposedly it proves that social support (even virtually) can make a positive impact on our perceptions and life in ways we can’t even recognize. It can change our perceptions and our reality, making it easier for us to do the hard things.

I think about this study a lot when I draw and when I write. I spend so much time alone because my depression and anxiety are often too loud, but even when I’m sharing scary or hard things I know that I’m not really alone…that you are here….my invisible friend and pen pal. I’m so lucky to have this incredible community of people who care. I’m so glad you’re a part of it.

You are not alone, even if sometimes it feels like it.

“Sometimes I need someone to save me from myself.”

Thank you for saving me, again and again. You don’t even know your power.

Thank you for sitting here at the bottom of the hill with me. You are the best company.

Love,

me

It’s FRIDAY

in Random Crap

First off, giant thanks to everyone who commented on my last post, because it made me feel so much less alone and it also convinced me to not try to outrun unconsciousness in the future after reading so many stories of broken bones. THANK YOU. Secondly, it’s Friday and that means you need to come into my office so I can show you the instagram posts I’ve been saving for you. There are a lot because I’ve been too sick to share them for awhile but today I almost feel partially human. YAY FOR ALMOST HUMAN.

Having a human body is bullshit

in Random Crap

So I’ve written before about the fact that I have vasovagal syncope (although I’m not sure I’ve ever used the technical term for it) but it’s basically where I pass out if my anxiety gets too bad. It only happens a few tines a year and it even happens when I’m not aware that I’m having anxiety…like if I see needles or blood at a doctors office, in spite of the fact that I’m not afraid of needles or blood at all (wtf, brain?).

Yesterday we took Hailey and their partner out for barbecue and I started to feel the panicky warning signs of abdominal pain and dizziness and sweating and so I took a xanax and laid my head down on the table to try to stop it all and Victor was like, “Your hair is in the beans. Your hair is in the beans” but I was too dizzy to respond and then I felt even worse and so I was like, “I NEED TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY” because I knew I was about to pass out and didn’t want to do it in a crowded brisket joint and so I jumped up and bolted to the door so that I could pass out inside the car, but I apparently misjudged how quickly it was coming on because I heard Victor behind me going, “WHAT IS HAPPENING” and then the next minute I was waking up on the asphalt, entirely blocking the only door of the barbecue place. Apparently trying to outrun unconsciousness had not worked (this seems logical in retrospect but panicky Jenny is an idiot) and so instead I busted through the door like the Kool-Aid man, passed out while running and flew out onto the asphalt where I blocked the door from everyone entering and exiting, and starting making moaning noises (“Like a Frankenstein” apparently) in front of the world. Also, my skirt was apparently up to my bellybutton and I was shaking like I was having a seizure because I guess I can’t even do fainting right. I woke up with gravel in my knees and beans in my hair and a very nice lady who worked there put a bag of cold water on me because I was sweating like I’d just come out of a lake and so it looked like I’d won an invisible goldfish at the fair.

Then I apologized a million times because I was mortified and fell asleep for 5 hours and today I’m weak as a dishrag. So my question is…does anyone else get this? Is it just me?

The messages I write to myself are terrifying.

in Random Crap

Every few months I go into my notes app on my phone to look at all of the reminders that I’ve written to myself that I have forgotten to do and inevitably there will be several notes that are deeply concerning because what was I even talking about? My latest one read simply:

“I’M NOT PAYING $700 FOR PICTURES OF INTERNAL CAT FARTS.“

Quite often I never figure out what these baffling messages mean and chalk them up to things I thought were hilarious in a dream (that were not hilarious at all the next morning) but then it clicked that a month ago I saw a string coming from Ferris Mewler’s butthole and I had to take him to the vet because clearly he’d eaten a ribbon and the vet was like, “He seems fine and probably passed it all, but we could do an X-ray?” and I asked if she’d do an X-ray if it was her cat and she was like, “Well, probably not because if there’s any more string it won’t actually show up in the x-ray but it could show if he has any blockages or unusually large gas pockets but we’d have to sedate him and it would be about $700″ and I was like, “I’M NOT PAYING $700 FOR PICTURES OF INTERNAL CAT FARTS” and the vet agreed that it was probably fine to just keep an eye on him. And I wrote that note to myself because these are sentences you don’t think you’ll say out loud until you become a cat mom, but I didn’t write about it at the time because I was afraid I’d jinx myself and then the next day Ferris Mewler would take a bad turn and then everyone on the internet would be like, “YOU SHOULD HAVE PAID FOR THE FARTS, YOU IDIOT” and then I forgot about the whole thing until today when I came across the note and remembered that Ferris was just fine and I could give myself a little high-five because I’d actually managed to make a good decision after all. I’m not sure if any of this makes sense because I’m on a lot of codeine cough syrup for a nasty cold but there’s something a little comforting about recognizing that maybe I’m making more good decisions than I give myself credit for, even if some of them are about cat farts.

Ferris Mewler (Totally alive and lightly mortified and probably dreaming about eating more ribbon):

MY BOOKS:


shop

Subscribe to the bloggess, y'all.

Enter your email address and receive notifications of new posts by email. It's like I'm stalking you, but more efficient.

Archives

ALL THE COOL KIDS ADVERTISE HERE:

I fucking love these people & not just because they support my wine-slushee habit:

Flourish in Progress: (T)hug Life: Part hood. Part good.

The Mack Files: Digesting life in bite-sized pieces through the lens of clichés, quotes & “truisms”.  Often irreverent, always honest.

Barking at the Moon: If your dog is your furry child, you will laugh out loud at Tracy Beckerman’s book about her family & a one-dog wrecking ball named Riley.

Wonder and Joy for the Wired and Tired: Feeling wired, tired, and stretched too thin? You’re not alone. Re-ignite your sense of childlike wonder, joy, and well-being with this enlightening and entertaining book by Dr. Pam Stephens Lehenbauer, well-being thought leader and author of the blog, Mother Nature’s Apprentice.

Stuff and Thangs from Xanaru: A mostly funny stuff about my quest for happiness through stories, art, friendship, Great Danes, one naked weirdo alien cat and indiscriminate swearing.

How the Hell Did I Not Know That?: Humorist Lucie Frost shares daily Instagram reels with learnings of the day—words, music, whatever–with plenty of laughs and all the curse words.

Beautiful Writers book: Writers! This coming-of-career memoir (w/ the BEST advice from celeb authors, real shit you haven’t heard) is life. A page-turning beach read doubling as how-to. #Magic

His Lies Did Not Erase Me: A collection of dark poetry by Stacie Ann Leininger

No Pithy Phrase: Between cancer, creatures, and the horde, there’s always something weird going on over here. The witchy writing freak flags are flying.

Butterfly Goo: The Down and Dirty Truth of Transformation Transformation isn’t pretty, but this hilarious memoir is filled with the mishaps, mistakes, misadventures, and mess of one heroine’s journey. Includes playground areas if you want to make changes in your own life.

Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh: SO GOOD.