Tuesday, February 6, 2018


There’s this weird thing that people do that baffles me. As an artist, it has happened to me but it clearly isn't just confined to art, but the puzzling phenomenon of people taking credit for things that they obviously didn't do.

A woman stands in front of the framed Mona Lisa and says "Hey guys, look at this awesome picture I painted!"

That is not to say that I don’t get the general idea of lying to get attention...

Comic titled: "Impressing Your Friends With Art - A choose your own adventure" shows a woman saying "I want some attention. My friends are impressed by art" A picture of her painting an oil painting of goatse says "I could do a whole lot of work and get some praise OR..." Below, she sits at a desk with a messy bun and sweatsuit at a computer in the dark looking at google under which reads "I could just google something impressive and take credit for it!"

But the chances of it backfiring and looking like a total jackhole when you are figured out totally skews the risk vs. reward ratio way too far into the TOO RISKY category for me and I think, most reasonable people. So much so that I have never actually considered such a ridiculous idea.

Part of the real confusion I experience with this is this "flying to close to the sun" urge that seems to come with the urge to lie about your achievements. Instead of lying in a small way that might give a small boost, it seems to be a huge ridiculous lie that is just so obvious it's kind of insulting. *cough Trump cough*

But there is another way.

For all the flack that millennials get, there’s this beautiful thing I have seen happening in the current generation that would totally satiate these low effort attention seekers without resulting in them needing to delete their Facebook account when their artist friends call out the fact that they have claimed to paint a picture that was painted by a really well-known artist…


Honestly, it is the coolest thing about people now. When you’re having a bad day, if you’re friends with leftist millennials or similarly positive nice people, you can just ask for the attention you need and (if you don’t do this on a daily basis and you’re not a total asshole) they’ll totally say nice things about you to make you happy.

This also works with asking for a gif of kittens and pictures of hybrid corgi mixes, I've found. But seriously, have you looked up corgi mixes?

Anyway, if you find yourself in need of emotional support sometimes and claiming you painted the Mona Lisa starts looking tempting, I urge you to try asking for a compliment to get the ego boost you need. Just say, "Hey friends, I'm having a hard time. Could you say something nice about me to cheer me up?"

And there’s the added bonus of knowing who to unfriend if anyone tries to make you feel bad about having emotional needs that are met by receiving external validations sometimes, 'cause you deserve to be happy and feel loved and people who try to shit on that don't deserve corgis AT ALL.

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Friday, January 5, 2018

Lessons Learned

I've learned a couple things in the past few days that I thought I should probably share with you all.

I've talked about the first one in the past, but apparently, it is still a lesson I need to learn as I lay here in buttloads of pain because my brain still hasn't learned the lesson that catching yourself when you're falling is often nearly as painful as just letting yourself fall.
This time, I was freezing so I very gracefully stepped out of my shower for a second to turn off the light which I forgot to turn off (see my last post), but the floor mat wasn't where it was supposed to be so I tried to scoot my foot over to it and pull it towards me so I didn't make as much of a puddly mess, but when I did that, I slid on the pool of water that was forming under my foot. I tried to catch myself with the towel bar, which wasn't happy with my antics and pulled completely off the wall.
At this point, I was doing a naked wet split, half in and half out of my bathtub, and I was falling forward with a pointy metal stick in my hand. Flailing, I tipped forward and was saved by a giant package of Costco toilet paper that was sitting underneath the towel rack, and I ended up planking on the toilet paper, to keep from breaking my leg on the edge of the bathtub. It was all pretty humiliating, and my husband slept through the entire ordeal, including me repairing the towel bar.
I keep having to remind myself when I am in awe of my pain levels that my shower acrobatics are entirely to blame.

I'm not gonna draw it. Feel free to submit your own artist's rendering.

And then I learned that sometimes, it's best to make a comment aloud into your empty house instead of commenting on the internet.
Usually, I keep my political commentary on my own Twitter page. I like to couple humor with fair points, but lately, I've been getting way too bold and when comments on safer accounts didn't blow up in my face, I branched out, and guys, I flew way too close to the sun.

I should have known better. It was a Bernie tweet. It's like MAGA jerkholes are just trolling his tweets all hours of the day and night waiting for some poor sap to comment so they can tell them that they're an asshole who needs to read a book and who has no idea of anything that has ever happened in the history of the world.  In fact, I'm kinda sure that that is exactly what they do.
When you see a comment section with absolutely NO comments that agree with the original post's point, THERE IS A REASON. Other people who agree already know this lesson, that's why they're not commenting. They know that these people will take any semi-valid point you make and purposefully misunderstand it so they can berate you because they need more love and understanding in their life and their moms should have hugged them more.

I just have to say, thank all the fluffy kittens in the world for Twitter's conversation mute option. There was just one guy trying to school me when I muted it, on the ridiculous notion that the current administration might consider cutting safety net provisions and that rich people might not want to just donate money to the government willy-nilly until some of those programs are enhanced. A masochistic curiosity brought me back to find that at least 15 people had joined in after I left to tell me that I was the stupidest person who ever existed and I should be ashamed to use words. I have no idea how many more people are going to join in, but it inspired me to take details about myself and my location off of the page, in case people decide to harass me for my humorously made point.
But lesson learned. Don't comment on Bernie Sander's twitter unless I have some sort of deep desire to be verbally abused.
I wish I had had something like that paper clip dude in Word that had stopped me in the first place.

I should have looked at kittens instead.

Thursday, December 21, 2017

I'm A Meat Popsicle.

I prefer to shower at night, or in the afternoon. That way I can put off sitting around with my head damp and freezing for as long as possible. During the winter, in this little house we've moved into, I have found that showering at night is a problem. The fan in our bathroom that's activated by our light switch is a conduit directly to outside, so turning the switch on means I am pumping fast moving sub-arctic air into a room where a fine mist of water is supposed to be warming me up (and cleaning me, yadda yadda). So until I get fed up and buy a lamp for the bathroom, my solution currently is just showering in the dark. My husband thought I did this because I'm a goth or something. I really have no idea what he thinks I'm doing half the time because he never asks, really, he just dutifully turns off the light for me and goes away, probably wondering why the hell he married such a weirdo.

A comic strip titled "Winter Showers" by JRose First panel: Shows a shower curtain, a little open. A wet headed Jodee sticks out a little. She is saying "Hon, can you bring me a top hat?" Frame 2: Door to the bathroom is open a little, her husband, a bald man with a big red beard sticks his head in a little and asks, "What the hell do you need a top hat in the shower for?" Frame 3: The same shower scene but the shower curtain has been pulled back. Jodee is a snowman from the neck down, complete with coal buttons and branch arms. She has a carrot in her mouth approximating a nose and there is snow falling from the shower head. Frame 4: Close up on her head with the carrot in her mouth. The side of her husband's head is seen to the left. He's asking, "Where do you get that carrot?"

And, in other news, the brand new computer I bought... it died... two weeks after getting it. The hard drive has been replaced after much complaining and flailing. They kindly sent out an awesome nerd tech named Nic who talked to me about fun nerd topics while we waited for it to actually install.

And I am working hard on a new novel, writing at least an hour every day. It deals with current affairs and is an R rated vigilante thriller. Becoming a patron on patreon with the button below can get you access to excerpts weekly with a pledge of just 3 dollars a post (with no more than 4 posts a month- so a minimum of 12 bucks a month maximum! Wait, that was confusing. it could be 3-12 bucks for access to good stuff). There are also art bonuses for higher levels of patronage.


Tuesday, December 5, 2017

My Summer from Hell- Part Two: She's Going To Die

While I was waiting this summer to find out if I had cancer, the night after my cat got the cat equivalent of heat stroke, I got a call from my sister letting me know that she was in the ER with our mother who was about to be flown in a helicopter across Montana to a hospital in my city because she was having a cardiac event that was giving her trouble breathing. The next morning at 5:30 am, I got a call from the ICU doctor telling me to get my ass to the hospital to say goodbye because my mom was about to die.

Thankfully, the hospital is about 8 minutes from my house so I threw on clothes and booked it to the ICU where my mom was absolutely dying. Her lungs had filled with fluid and she was drowning, but she had refused intubation so they couldn't do much to help her.

I entered the room with a crowd of people around her, she was fighting them and was almost unrecognizable with a CPAP mask over her face, out of her mind from the lack of oxygen that was making its way into her blood.

They sort of pushed me forward and told me to talk to her. My mother and her mother didn't get along at all and it just so happened that it was my grandmother's yahrtzeit (that's Jewish for deathaversary, which I always thought was "yard side" as that's how it's pronounced). I grabbed my mom's hand and made her look at me, "It's 7-11, you're not allowed to die today! I'm sorry, but if you insist on dying, you're going to have to put it off so you don't share your death day with grandma."

And my mother is so spiteful that she immediately stopped dying. She did have to go have heart surgery immediately afterward to sustain the whole living deal, but as soon as I got there and reminded her to breathe and fight, she cleared her lungs and was able to be transported across Montana yet again to go to another hospital for her surgery.

It was that night when I got home from the hospital, that my computer died.

And then my husband's computer died, having just died and been replaced two months earlier.

And then I had a hysterectomy.

And then I had weird side effects from my hysterectomy like white-hot leg pain, and 96 hours of full body itching, and phantom uterine cramping that felt like it was tearing me in half.

And then my car died. Twice. (It was the alternator, and then the starter, in a week's time).

And then I found out my neutered cat was an attempted rapist when we let in a cute little neighborhood cat who'd been meowing at our door, then immediately put her out because my cat is horrible and gross, but then she stalked us for five whole nights, howling like she was using a bullhorn outside our windows which, of course, made Stevie howl inside at the top of his lungs for 5 whole nights.

And my state elected a reporter-slamming jerk.

And then I was diagnosed with a breast tumor which probably isn't cancer but might still be cancer.

And then my camera died.

And I was turned down for disability because I have a good attitude which, of course, precludes actually being sick.

And the jerks in our government spent the summer trying like hell to take away my health insurance, which would have meant that I wouldn't be able to be treated for all the Schrodinger cancer I had (or didn't have as the case may be), which I was constantly worried about, which of course made my illness all that much worse (and of course, they're still doing it).

So yeah, my summer had a lot of suckage that just kept on pooping down on me, like a way less appetizing fondue fountain at Golden Corral.

But now that I have a computer again, and  the use of a working camera and I feel slightly less like spending every waking moment binge-watching Netflix (almost done with all eight seasons of Dexter) and playing Candy Crush on my tablet to drown my woes, it is my plan to make up for lost time with content galore, which I hope you will come back for and share.

I also have an actual smartphone now (for the time being, seeing how things go for me) so I'm all over social media as "cheeseblarg" and I'm actually posting stuff, so go ahead and follow me!

So what days of the week are you most looking forward to something to laugh at? Let me know so I can get on setting some kind of schedule, please.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

My Summer from Hell - Part One: The Surgery

I just got a computer, yesterday, after 5 months of being without so my first task after restoring all my files and programs is posting for you guys. Thank you, Black Friday sales for decent computers cheap enough I can afford. The last time that I was without dedicated computer access for this long was in 1994, my freshman year of college, but most people didn't have computers then, so it wasn't quite as jarring then as it is now, especially when my entire life exists online.

So I wrote on Cheeseblarg's facebook page a while ago that y'all would find it hard to believe all the shit I had been through this summer, for those of you who aren't following along there, and you probably won't, but I assure you, it's all true, and it's absolute bullshit.

My wish for the upcoming year is that I never have to hear the words, "We're afraid it might be cancer," ever a-fucking-gain from a doctor. This summer started with a mysterious mass in my cervix. I went to the doctor in June because I was experiencing this weird feeling of all of my insides dropping when I stood up for more than 15 minutes which in itself is pretty alarming, but it was accompanied with sweating and feeling like I was going to pass out. Once it got to the point that I couldn't stand long enough to shower without feeling like I was dying, I decided I should probably do something about it, so I bucked up and went to have my lady bits probed by a stranger. I mean, she was a professional, not just some random person on the street with a speculum and a hankering for some gynecological exploring.

An older man with wild gray shoulder length hair and a bushy grey beard, no shirt with a large tuft of grey chest hair, is wearing a labcoat with a speculum in the pocket and dirty green cargo pants with the fly open. On his head he wears an old fashioned doctor's head mirror. Standing on the corner of a city with a CVS and parked cars visible in the background, he holds a cardboard sign that reads, "Will PAP 4 food."

Since scraping my lady bits turned up nothing, we went to the next step of sonic spelunking. This revealed the aforementioned "mysterious mass" and then we went to the next step of traumatizing me forever and ever, amen.

Frankly, the whole business gives me more ammunition for the idea that there is a grand conspiracy of hatred for women in this world because I cannot believe that any kind of human rights coalition would allow the equivalent to a cervical/uterine biopsy to be done to any man without general anesthetic. And I've heard that testicular biopsies are done under local and still hurt like hell, but I'm arguing that that is not really equivalent, because testes are not muscles that try to slam shut when you drill pieces out of them causing your entire body to try to escape from what's going on in your nether regions. It was really awful.  So awful in fact, that before I even left that appointment, I made plans with my doctor, before the results came back, to have my uterus and accompanying accouterments removed as soon as possible so I would no longer have a cervix so that procedure could never ever happen to me again.

And my uterus was mint, guys, never been used, though it had been remodeled monthly since I was about 10, so I don't know if I could have gotten full price for it. Anyway, it's totally lost its value now because I took it out of the box. At the end of August, I had them remove my reproductive organs (though I kept my ovaries so they can grow cysts and be generally annoying to keep me off of hormone replacement therapy), and I finally finished healing last month after one of the holes popped open in a cinematic fashion when we thought they were all almost closed.
So that's the story of how I spent 3 months worrying that I had cancer before having a hysterectomy. I didn't have uterine or cervical cancer, but my cervix was faulty and if I had kept it, I would have continued to need biopsies regularly and it would have continued to make me feel like I was dying, and frankly, I wasn't planning on using it anyway, and I'm much happier to have it gone.

Spending all the time in a gynecologist's office, of course, led to appointments with mammography. And instead of just being routine, of course, I got my next, "it might be cancer." I was supposed to be going tomorrow, in fact, to have a lumpectomy to ensure that the tumor they found in my breast during the first biopsy is completely non-cancerous, but I got an ear infection, so now I get to add two more weeks to my 3 months of waiting to find out that this one is nothing too.

And I know that countless people who aren't so lucky would love to be told that it is nothing repeatedly, but having six months of your body constantly trolling you that is mutating and is gonna kill you only to have it yell "PSYCH" after you've had surgeries and near constant stress diarrhea, is relieving as hell, but also really fucking annoying that you had to go through all of that in the first place when your body could have just stopped growing benign tumors in the first damned place.

So that's part one of my trauma. I'm thinking I can wrap it up in one other post, hopefully, next week.

Friday, June 2, 2017

Safety Net, More Like Safety NOT.

Cartoon JRose on the phone looks annoyed - cartoon Stevie cat hides behind her. A speech bubble coming from the phone says "We'd like for you to stop sucking so much."

I have been contacted by at least 4 of my 5 current medical providers in the past week chastising me for being an irresponsible jerk. The problem is, I am totally responsible and also, that kind of judgment is super bad for my health, guys, stop it.

As I've said before, I'm poor. Yes, we have the sweet sweet financial aid currently, that makes life so much more enjoyable, but since that is a gift from the government (that they expect to get back someday), and it only goes for basic living stuff, we still receive bare minimum safety net services, like Medicaid (Thanks, Obama), and when you have social services, there is a whole lot of hoop jumping that comes along with it.

And I'm not even complaining. I'm getting something incredibly valuable for free, basically. I mean, I paid into the system for a decade before coming to need these services, but I am almost entirely fine with having to fill out endless paperwork and report my every change to these agencies, because basically they are keeping me alive, and for that, I would do an assload of paperwork, man.

The problem is, I did my paperwork. A week after I moved. I went onto their website like their paperwork instructed me to, and I changed my Primary Care Provider, like they told me to, and I waited a month until my new coverage kicked in to make any doctor's appointments, like a super responsible girl, even though I desperately needed to see those doctors then, only to find out that the website we were all told to use, doesn't seem to be attached to anything!

Even worse, after getting the situation squared away by calling their hotline, I asked to make a complaint about the website not working and here's what I was told:

We know that there's a problem. We are working diligently to fix the issue that is making it so that the website collects data, tells you it registered you, but then spits the information out into the ether. It's a particular problem with the medical center that serves your area. Unfortunately, we can't tell those providers that this is an issue we're having so they stop chastising you because we have no way of knowing that you actually tried to sign up, you could be making it up and this whole problem could just be that you people are liars. This problem... that we've been trying to deal with for at least 3 months now... that countless people have complained about. Have you tried not being poor?

I might be paraphrasing slightly. Anyway, it's frustrating enough that I've written this novella about it. There's the whole myth of the Welfare Queen living high on benefits from the government, but being humiliated on a regular basis because technology is hard for the government doesn't feel very royal to me. All I'd really like is for Montana Medicaid's IT department to contact my providers and tell them there's an issue with the website and that their clients aren't just sitting around eating bonbons and laughing in the face of responsibility. Okay, maybe I would like some bonbons too, but I would really like them to take responsibility for their errors, instead of putting it all on the poor people who are trying to do the right thing on a broken system.

buy me bonbons!

Monday, May 22, 2017

Cheeseblarg Does Makeup: Twin Peaks Eyelook (and bonus Aurora Borealis)

If you've watched Twin Peaks, you should be familiar with the inspiration for my newest makeup look. If not, it will just look weird and really, welcome to Twin Peaks.

This video is not so much funny as it is nerdy (it's a little funny), and I think that is really the direction I want to go with my new makeup tutorial channel. There is Nerdy Nummies, for cooking nerd themed food and Super-Fan Builds (that starred my good friend Tim for a while there) for building nerd themed things, so I think I will probably gravitate towards nerd themed makeup looks. Mostly because I have naturally sort of started out that way with videos relating to Clockwork Orange and Astronomy and Cult TV Shows because those are the things that interest and inspire me (and I have an order of makeup on its way that my cat got me for Mother's Day that all happen to be Harry Potter colors, so a house colors video should be coming out eventually).

Anyway, if you enjoy makeup and nerdy things, please subscribe to my channel and go there and thumbs up my videos and encourage me with comments and shares! Or at least don't mail me dead animals as punishment for making them.

And a bonus video - Colorful Skies on you Eyelids! (with a fair amount of NSFW language)

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Making Crap Laws Work for You: Religious Freedom

So D. Trump just signed yet another executive order.

This one is "guaranteeing religious freedom" and allowing people to opt out of government rules based on "closely held religious beliefs." 

Of course, this is going to be used by some Americans to treat other Americans like dogshit, and that is completely unacceptable. The rule needs to be overturned, and hopefully, the 9th circuit gets on that soon, but in the meantime, how can we make this order work for us so we can benefit from the fuckery going on?

Guys, I came up with the perfect idea. I may be an atheist, but I was raised Jewish, so I have a pretty good grasp of the old testament... and I totally hold this passage in particular pretty close to my heart, what with the whole perpetually broke thing.

Deuteronomy 15:1-2
1 At the end of every seven years you shall grant a remission of debts. 2 This is the manner of remission: every creditor shall release what he has loaned to his neighbor; he shall not exact it of his neighbor and his brother, because the LORD'S remission has been proclaimed.

You know what that means?

Goodbye, federal student loan debt! After 7 years, you shouldn't have to pay that shit anymore.

According to Trump's order:
 "It shall be the policy of the executive branch to vigorously enforce Federal law’s robust protections for religious freedom. The Founders envisioned a Nation in which religious voices and views were integral to a vibrant public square, and in which religious people and institutions were free to practice their faith without fear of discrimination or retaliation by the Federal Government. For that reason, the United States Constitution enshrines and protects the fundamental right to religious liberty as Americans’ first freedom. Federal law protects the freedom of Americans and their organizations to exercise religion and participate fully in civic life without undue interference by the Federal Government. The executive branch will honor and enforce those protections."

I say we practice the hell out of the Judeo-Christian religion by demanding that the Federal Government forgive all loans after a period of 7 years. If people can keep other people from taking birth control, or can control what we can or can't do with our own bodies, surely we can demand to have our loans forgiven as GOD proclaims!

Clearly, I don't have a law degree. But if shit's gonna be unreasonable, I say we at least try find ways to make it work for us.

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