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.

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.

Some Like It Hot!

Someone needs to take my adult badge away...

This is the second time I have burned myself this week. 

The first time, I was melting wax on my stove to use while felting and I accidentally placed my hand on the element. I think I should get a pass on that one, because I have one of those flat top stoves and when the element area is being lazy, it's black (instead of glowing red) like the rest of stove top (Wow, that comes off as really racist upon reading it aloud).

Tonight's burning really is putting me in the realms of, "You can't use the stove any more."

I was innocently heating up a tortilla to make another pulled pork soft taco to eat while watching "We Are The Millers" and the tortilla, which I had just placed in the pan that had been sitting over heat for a few minutes, wasn't particularly warm when I touched it, so I lifted it up and put the back of my fingers directly on the pan... that had been sitting on the heat for a few minutes. As you might expect, which somehow I didn't, it was hot. Very fucking hot. I will need adult supervision until further notice.

He ain't afraid of no ghosts.

Fifteen years ago tonight, after our second date, my husband told me he was in love with me and asked me to be his girlfriend. That sounds all sweet and romantic BUT, it is even more so when you take into consideration the fact that I sneezed directly into his hand during said date... and not like a cute little "achoo, 'scuse me!" sneeze. No, it was a full-on first day of the flu, "SHE SLIMED ME!" sneeze... directly into the palm of his hand.

This was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. We were in the theater watching a movie (I Still Know What You Did Last Summer), he was to my right, had his arm around me, and was holding my left hand. I was slightly aware that this horrible flu was coming on, and this terror was building in my mind... it was a very short process, but it was something like, "OH GOD, I HAVE TO SNEEZE! I'M LEFT-HANDED. I NEED MY HAND! SURELY IF I PULL, HE'LL LET GO!!" But he didn't, and instead of being smart and sneezing into my right hand, I turned my head, tugged, met resistance, and the sneeze was there, and so was a ton of snot and slobber on his hand, which I had pulled right over my face.

I was pretty sure he was going to break it off right then, so I was pleasantly surprised when he asked me to be his girl instead of running off before the movie even ended, which, I suspect, is what I would have done had someone deposited that amount of mucus on me during a date. 

Ornament-O-Rama Dino Ball Winner!

It was cold. That is my excuse for this being late. Today our temps are finally in positive numbers. Not double digit, mind you, but at least not negative.

During this weather, I managed to cut my finger on water (damn you, ice!), and I got my first nosebleed ever while sitting in my car (that wouldn't start without the assistance of a jump because it was so cold). It looked kinda like that scene from Pulp Fiction.

 I may be exaggerating a little; I blame that on the cold, too.


And now the winner of the dinoball ornament:

So li'l Muppet-lhead, please email me your address and when I am willing to leave the house, I'll send Dino Ball to you!

Cheeseblarg's Slutty Halloween Extravaganza

We all know that "sexy" Halloween costumes have totally gotten out of hand. There are tons of humor sites out there enumerating all of the ridiculous designs.  This humor site is not content to just sit back and observe the insanity. Instead, I am jumping in myself, with both feet.  I offer you, Cheeseblarg's Slutty Halloween Extravaganza.

In... er... never mind...

Everyone enjoys the pervy fun of adding "IN BED!" to fortune cookies, and it always works, because the more it doesn't make sense, the funnier it is.  I am convinced though, that there are fortunes where IN BED is probably going to make for some awkward after dinner conversation, as in the following:

Feel free to add your own.

New Things I Learned This Week - Episode 1

I wanted to share with you, each Thursday, new things I learned during the week. I thought it might be fun, and according to my long ago Facebook poll, some of you agree, but thankfully I am in charge of what gets posted here, so even if you were all, " NO WAY! That sounds boring!" I would probably still post it if it made me laugh.

So here are a few new things I learned this week:

Despite thinking I was completely useless at first person shooters, because of that one time that I turned on my roommate's Xbox to try playing Halo while he wasn't home and was shot repeatedly in the head within seconds of spawning, I learned, playing Bioshock Infinite, (because my husband was tired of me nagging him to check garbage cans while he was playing and handed over the controller) that I am actually pretty good at video games... unless there are 8 people shooting me from different directions, and one of them seems to be Fire Marshal Bill who is throwing large lava rocks at me. Then I just do a lot of yelling of "OMG STOP SHOOTING ME!" and cry while getting killed a lot.

Also, it is totally acceptable to eat cotton candy that has been in a dead man's pocket.

I highly recommend Bioshock Infinite though. It stands alone well, so you don't HAVE to have played the other two games (though they are awesome also, so you should), and it is just stunning, visually, and so much fun... though the last battle took me a million tries, since it goes from relatively easy -- on the easiest setting-- to WELL THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY in the last battle. If you utilize your many different powers correctly, it is completely doable... demonstrated by the fact that I did it, finally (after looking up helpful hints).

This is the trailer, where you can see how beautiful it is, but be warned, there is a slight amount of gore in it... and know that I chose the trailer with the least spoilery stuff in it:

On to the next thing I learned:

Spiders pee-poop. Also, spider pee, not flammable.

Also, I was reminded that without the aid of spell check, I am apparently unable to spell the word flammable.


New thing trice:

We now have to worry about an epidemic of kitten perpetrated nipple maulings. So much so that I was able to use this card I made for Jen Yates for my friend, comedian Jen Kober, only a few days later.

Feel free to use it, should you know someone who is impacted by this horrifying kitten trend.

And finally:

Despite a hidden desire to kick/punch a punching bag, which was realized when watching some stupid banking commercial, it would make me feel bad for abusing an inanimate object; this feels like it would be much more likely:

Extra points if you recognize the room I am reading to the punching bag in... extra extra points if you verify your knowledge by "shouting" quotes.

Ezekiel 25:17

"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you."

Pulp Fiction is one of my favorite movies ever. It came out my first year of college, while I was in a class where we were tasked with making installation art pieces based on a director's movies. I did not get Quentin Tarantino, though my good friends did, and it was my introduction to his work, for which I am grateful. QT is on my list of celebrities/fellow artists that I most want to hang out with.

Valentine's Cards: Set Two- From Your Unromantic Boyfriend

My next set of Valentines are what you would get if your boyfriend/husband could really get you the card he wanted to... that was based on an action movie. Or the ones that I would get you, because I like classic action movies, despite having a vagina.

And again, some available in my Zazzle shop if they haven't been taken down.

An Apology 'Neath the Green Bay Tree

A letter to my nephew in the future:

Dear Booger,

I just want to tell you that I love you before I begin explaining.

I am writing this because some day, I am sure you will see the movie Gummo, and when you are done watching that movie, I'm fairly certain that you are going to hook your brain into the computer and google "WTF IS WRONG WITH MY AUNT!?"

And the answer is, "I don't really know. I guess I wasn't thinking about the fact that you would see that movie some day and it had the potential to implode your childhood."  Which probably won't help in your need for therapy, but it is my honest answer.

See, there IS something wrong with your uncle, as he really likes the movie Gummo and played it often before you were born. I tried to avoid watching it and would leave the room or retreat to the computer when he turned it on, but it starts with THAT DAMNED SONG, and that damned song is an awesome song... and somehow, when I first held you shortly after you were born, I thought, "I love my little rooster and my rooster loves me!" and so I sang it to you, and it became our song, and it wasn't until I heard you singing under your breath the other day, "Cock a doodle do, doodle doo, doodle doo," that I thought, 'OH CRAP, SOME DAY HE'S GONNA WATCH THAT FREAKING MOVIE! I AM THE WORST AUNT EVER!'

So, I am sorry. I could lie and say I didn't get the song I have sung to you all your life from a really upsetting awful movie, but clearly that is not true. I just thought it was better than Old McDonald and it has yodeling. Yodeling is good. Gummo, not so much, unless you are into that sort of HORRIFIC disturbing thing (which you are allowed to be if you are... I still love your uncle, you'll notice).

All my love,
Your Aunt J

The song in question. Research the movie on your own if you've been lucky enough not to see it. =P

Introducing SST!

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Skynet 1.0: Abuse of the RedBox

After watching my mother try to rape the Redbox Kiosk with the movies she was returning for me, because I have my nephew's cold and didn't want to get out of the car in subfreezing temperatures, I am fairly certain that this sort of thing  is the beginning of the Skynet Incident.
They didn't show it in the Terminator movies, but clearly, the repeated abuses of these machines are going to lead to a revolt where machines start attacking and murdering humans.

At the very least, RedBox should set up hidden cameras to record and broadcast, for our amusement, the various ways in which people are unable to figure out the operations of their machines.

Regrouping and Floor Cleaning

Fuck this moping shit. This needs to be the year of the JRose. I mean, last year I also declared it the year of the JRose (actually it was the "year of winning" but then Charlie Sheen had to go and implode and take my phrase and then I felt weird using it, but damn it, you get the idea), and in reality, for all the other crap, it was pretty much, indeed, a year of winning.  My campaign of terror on @blogger over at twitter, plus my sheer awesomeness, won me Blog of Note, allowing me to meet so many of you Cheeseblargians, which is fairly coincidental that you should already be called Cheeseblargians and then you should follow a site called "da Cheeseblarg."

I also um... I... won .. um... hrm.. I got my art published in a cookbook (Nadia G's Bitchin' Kitchen: Cookin' for Trouble) that I don't have a copy of so it may not actually be in there, so I am just going to assume it is because I signed a waiver saying it could be.  AND someone contacted me wanting to use a bad painting I did of David Hasselhoff in panties for the green room of some show he was going to be on to make him uncomfortable, though I never actually heard back from them...

The really bad painting in question. It's awful. I should have painted the one with the Shar Pei puppies.

 and then Conan O'Brien had my Coco Llama in his gallery AND talked about it after saying my name and another campaign of terror got me to NYC because I was in an art show in NYC and needed to see it in person, which was a life-long goal realized. Plus, I made a bunch of kick ass art. So this year, instead of bitching about bitchy shit, I just need to be winning-er. Being super win-y will make my shit crap health issues suck less by comparison. Especially if I become not poor while winning.

So let's start with the Shorty Awards under the category of blogging, because they didn't have a category for blarging, and I am nothing if not flexible.
Just scoot on over to this link (I imagine you should have a twitter account but why not try anyway) [link redacted] and tell them why I am the best blarger that ever lived (I stress "blarger."  I'm the only one, right? Or the original, at least? It should be easy to say I am the best without feeling like you are lying).

Then I seriously need to get this friggen celebrity endorsement, even if I need to become a celebrity myself and then do my own endorsement. It doesn't work that way does it? Well, I'll figure it out.


Point is, if I want my life to not be ruled by sucky aspects, I am gonna have to take it by the flappy bits and and shake it and say "HEY LIFE, STOP SUCKING. Health is not the only thing around. There's also internet awards, and celebrities who may someday pay attention to you, and  Bacon Jerky. And there are readers who give a shit and will be okay if you can't draw all the time, and frosting, and THESE FLOORS ARE DIRTY AS HELL AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!" At which point I imagine people will just stare at me and crickets will chirp, because UHF is a highly underrated movie.

Another time I thought I had cancer.

I learned yesterday that I don't like having needles stuck into my face.  I had an inkling before that it was the sort of thing that I would not be in to, but having it done totally cemented in my mind that I REALLY don't like it. I probably like it more than the prospect of having cancer though, which is why I allowed my doctor to put a needle into my face.  If he had just been like, "You know what would be fun? Stabbing you in the face with a needle!" and then he'd come at me all:

 I would have had to use my Hamster Style on him.

But why was a doctor sticking a needle into your face, JRose?

Funny you should ask.

On Friday, my face went all Volcano-mode and the mole by my nose did a dramatic recreation of the movie 2012.

I thought, eh, pimple, whatevs, because I like to talk to myself like I am cool and hep, as the kids say. I kept screwing with it 'til it popped because if I have a giant "end of the world" sort of face sore, I cannot do anything but poke and prod until it goes away or I pass out from pain.
I am not sure what it was, I don't think it was actually a pimple, but it had its sights on my signature mole which is now gone completely because it fell off.  PART OF MY FACE FELL OFF! One of my favorite parts of my face, too. I mean, I would miss my eyelids more, but I really liked that damned mole.

Of course, by "fell off" I mean I kept messing with the little flappy part that was threatening to fall off until it ripped off, but the results are the same, a bloody gross face hole that I was pretty sure was the deadliest kind of cancer, because I always think everything is the worst thing it could ever be... and obviously, my inane expectation that I'm going to die eminently led me to the doctor's office where I allowed him to inject shots into my face to do a biopsy because while it probably isn't cancer, he says, it would super suck to be wrong.

And now I feel sorry for strangers who have to look at my post-biopsy face because I am sure they must feel uncomfortable looking at me. It kind of looks like someone put a cigarette out on my face, which should totally be my story if anyone breaks social code and asks why I am so horribly disfigured.

GERD is No Joke.

The ghost of a tuna fish tried to kill me last night while I slept.

Most people think of acid reflux as a minor annoyance, and while you are awake, I would tend to agree.  Having heartburn sucks, but at least you are awake, and aware of having it, and are most likely not lying down, and so you're slightly uncomfortable and can go take an acid reducer of some sort.  But when you are asleep, acid reflux tries to murder the shit out of you.

Last night, I was happily dreaming about magical spit when all of a sudden, I was awake and terribly aware that I was dying. I sat straight up, flailing, as one will do when they are jolted awake by choking to death, and tried to breathe but my lungs just gave me a big "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" and would not inflate.

The following conversation was then had with my lungs:
Me: "Please, I need to breathe!!!"
My Lungs: "You should have thought about that before you filled us with stomach acid, you asshole!"
Me: "Yeah, I wasn't trying to. I'm not enjoying this any more than you are."
My Lungs: "Stop eating tuna fish for dinner."
Me: "Yeah, I'm right on top of that, Rose.  In the mean time, could you let me get some fucking oxygen because I am dying here."
My Lungs: "Fine, if we must, but we're not kidding about the tuna."

And so, after probably only a few seconds that felt like way longer of desperately trying to breathe, my lungs began working again, and the ghost tuna was exorcised through a ritual of burping and puking that sounded like I had eaten a live velociraptor.

In case you are worried, I'm fine now, other than some slight lung-area pain and a major case of tuna-related PTSD.

Special Secret Family Recipe

Any time I hear about meat that is made from a "special secret family recipe," my brain immediately translates that as "IT'S MADE OF HUMANS!"

Mischief Managed!

I made this to wear for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2. I figured others might like their own.

Fluffy Shirt from Zazzle.com (my shop... clearly)
It is totally customizable, so you can make any color shirt, kid's shirts, etc.
AND there is a coupon code for the time being for 15% off:  STUDYINSTYLE

Yeah, it's been taken down... but I will find a home for it if there is any interest. Or if you have a screen printing company... *wink nudge*

Oh, and Allie Brosh liked my drawing of her and "Simple Dog" Fluffy and we had this exchange:

And if you would like to add me on Google+, be my guest!

I think the phrase is 'Kill it with Fire'?

My husband is growing me strawberries.  They have been working their way up to actually producing fruit for the last 2 years... and now, I wish they wouldn't because this is what they look like:

Yes, we have terrifying mutant strawberries growing in my backyard.  I'm wondering if maybe there was a toxic chemical spill in that area, because the strawberry plants in the plot on the other side of the yard (that get the same amount of water, light, fertilizer, and love) are just fine, but these ones, all of them, about 6 plants, they have produced horrible alien strawberries and I hate them. It makes me feel queasy just knowing that they are there, in the yard, watching me... plotting to give me their space herpes.

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Don't forget, there are only three days left to get July's Limited Edition Sticker.

The Craptacular Day

I have several obnoxious and rather icky chronic diseases, which is why I am now trying to make a living by writing funny stories and drawing silly pictures on the internet instead of working "a real job."  Sometimes these diseases all gang up on me and make me not want to do a damned thing, which includes entertaining other people.  Sometimes, I force myself to do it anyway, and sometimes, those posts aren't very amusing because my heart is not behind them.  Today is one of those days.  Not that I mean my heart isn't behind this post, I just mean, I feel like crap and this probably won't be very entertaining.  And I don't mean, my darling readers, that you should to try to guess where I wasn't feeling very well in my blarg archive and let me know, because it might just insult me when you guess that a post I loved and thought was my best was crap but you know it's only because I was sick and you were just trying to be supportive by pointing out that I am not funny, and nevermind, let's just pretend like all of my posts are fried gold.

Anyway, when I am having one of these days, distraction is the best remedy for wanting to dig a hole and never come out. It helps me not to feel so guilty for not wanting to do my job, and for not getting out of bed, except to go to the bathroom 7500 times (this may be a slight exaggeration, which is clearly a symptom of my illnesses too, both the exaggerating and the bathroom trips, that is).

These are the things that are serving as my distractors today:

MTV's Teen Wolf
Yes, I know this is a show made for teens and I am roughly twice the age of the target demographic, but as a fan of the original Teen Wolf movie, I had to check it out, and since I feel about 14 years old most of the time, it appealed to me.  It is absolutely nothing like the movie though there are nods here and there, and it is ridiculously melodramatic, and I freaking love it. There. I said it. I'm a dork. Plus, Stiles... duh.

Looking up candies
I could have sworn that Whatchamacallits had marshmallow in them once upon a time. Apparently, I am completely wrong.  But there was some candy bar when I was a kid in the early 80s that had a wafer and chocolate cream and peanuts and marshmallow in the center, and damn it, I want to know what it was, because in my nostalgic memory, that was THE most delicious confection in the entire world.

And may I say, as a collector of Pez, I am really disappointed that there are no official Harry Potter Pez Dispensers.

Movie Clips on Youtube
UHF is one of my favorite movies from my youth. Weird Al is a comic genius. This clip never fails to amuse me.

By the way, "twinkie wiener sandwiches?" They're terrible. Please believe me.  It is a horrible waste of a twinkie, a hot dog, and easy cheese.

Reading

    

I'm currently reading an actual copy of  "City of Glass- The Mortal Instruments" by Cassandra Clare and "Spiderwork- A Post Apocapunk Fantasy Romance" by LK Rigel on my kindle. I don't usually like to be engaged with two books at the same time because it feels like I am cheating on one with the other, but I was reading "Spiderwork," which is the sequel to "Space Junque," both of which I downloaded for free from Amazon and am enjoying very much, when my friend loaned me the final book of the Mortal Instrument series (I mean, I think it is the final book... I guess I could research that, but I am afraid of spoilers, so I'll just not care instead) and since it is borrowed, I have set aside the other. But reading, of course, has the added benefit of making me sleep which helps with healing so I can write actual posts and not be a grumpy asshole.

Checking my emails a billion times and crying.
(I have no emails, hence the crying)
(except my mom, she writes)
(hi mom)

And that's about it.  Have anything you think might amuse me? Wanna tell me what you do to make yourself feel better when you're having a craptacular day?  I would love the distraction.