PAY ATTENTION TO ME!

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.

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

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…

It’s called… ASKING FOR COMPLIMENTS.

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.

Cheeseblarg does Makeup - Episode One

Despite being a lizard girl, I decided to see if I could actually produce a video of me putting on makeup that was entertaining enough to watch so that I can progress towards my goal of fancy makeup companies sending me free samples. According to my husband, it helps to actually care about putting on makeup when you watch it, which he really doesn't, but I did get a few laughs out of him when I held him down and forced him to preview it before I put my dry crackly face on the internet where hopefully I won't attract hoards of trolls who will mock me and make me cry for the rest of my life. Sorry, I digress. His final assessment was that it is worth watching and that I'm cute, and I like that sort of feedback, so here it is.

It IS somewhat long. I will learn in the future that blending times are times for quietness so I can fast forward through them without sounding like a chipmunk, but if you like makeup, or me, or just want to pretend that we hang out when I'm putting on makeup, maybe you could watch? And subscribe? And encourage me to make more and better videos of all sorts* where you get to see me doing things and talking? And even share it? Maybe?

*Like drawing... I have the technology to show myself drawing comics for the blarg while possibly speaking about what I'm doing.

for early access to videos and outtakes

My hole is gonna be HUGE!

I’ve been waiting for a while to discuss this, because this friend of mine in high school once told me about this theory she called “The Point of Light” and the idea is that when you are excited about something, the more you talk about it, the less likely it is to happen, and since I grew up in a household where that was basically the rule, the idea stuck. I know that seems like it has nothing at all to do with lights, but it does if you imagine your anticipation to be a pinprick in the dark that lets light in, and the more you share it with others, the bigger the hole in the darkness gets and apparently bigger holes are less appealing to the gods of wish granting. I think her theory might have been slut-shaming me. Anyway, now that Exciting Event I Didn’t Want to Jinx ™ has happened, (and not without a ton on ridiculousness attached to it) I am free to talk about it.

I moved AND I’m not exceedingly poor anymore, thanks to the government (for the time being, as long as President Dickface and his Zany Cabinet ™ don’t fuck up financial aid for old-assed people going to college. That would be my husband, not me.) Mr. Rose is a college student now and we are living in an adorable tiny house on a college campus in Montana with our cat and a veritable menagerie of woodland creatures. It’s adorable. A gopher cut me off as I was going to get in my car yesterday. Bunnies frolic on our front lawns. It could only get cuter if they talked, or carried tiny baskets with them (makes a note to buy tiny baskets).

But the not being really really poor part is exciting for me. When I’ve said I was poor, I mean, we had no actual income for three straight years and very little for years before that. Like, my mom gave us money to cover things we really needed during that time (‘cause who wants to live with a person who needs - but can’t afford - tampons), and the government paid for our food, but otherwise, I didn’t touch my debit card for literally years. I was actually confused when I had to use it again because ATM technology has changed so much in the last 5 years or so since I last used one. And with the influx of money that I now have access to, I have discovered a deep and passionate love for makeup. I want all the makeup. I don’t have all the makeup, and I should probably curb my appetite for it since, holy shit, makeup these days is so expensive, but it is all so pretty.

That’s not to say that I’m good at makeup. I’m not super girly, but I am so drawn to it. And with my art background, I’ve got an idea of what I want my face to look like, but using makeup brushes is just not like painting. It’s hard, y’all. I’ve been watching tutorials on youtube though and mostly it leads me to wonder how is it that I can integrate beauty tips into a humor blog so that Urban Decay and Too Faced, et al, decide that sending me free makeup is a good business decision.

How many of you are into makeup? Would any of you be into seeing what colors I put on my face some time?

Stabby!

You guys! I've found THE perfect craft for me!

If you've been paying attention thus far, you might have noted that my two go-to emotional responses to negative things are stabbing or setting on fire. Some people are face-punchers, some people are poop-flingers, I am a stabber, and/or fire-starter.

Not that I have actually ever stabbed or set anything on fire (that wasn't supposed to be on fire)... but when I am JROSE SMASH angry, the first thing that comes to my mind is stabbing and/or igniting things into a fiery blaze.

So yesterday, seeing as I am on my yearly birthday trip to a city that is actually near things (things being places that everyone else in the non-rural country has access to regularly), I went to Michael's craft explosion store, and I bought a Needle Felting Kit.

Some of you know what needle felting is (because you are awesome, and presumably a crafter), but for those who don't know, it is a craft wherein you take gobs of wool and then stab them repeatedly with a really sharp barbed needle until said wool turns into a thick felt lump of whatever it is you are trying to make.

See artist's rendering below:

I was making a penguin, because it is going towards the Ornament-o-Rama project, and because penguins are pretty freaking awesome and cute. I should probably get some sort of protection when felting to avoid looking like my fingers are heroin addicts, but I am totally enamored with this new kind of art! Now I just need to find a craft where I set things on fire and yell at them!





And here is Sir Wooly Waddlesworth the 3rd, my new penguin friend (as named by my friend Kimberly C.), with an important announcement about the Cheeseblarg Takes Paris contest:

So Naomi, send me an email with your address and I will send a package out to you in the next couple weeks!

Life Lessons: Inside Voices

I've noticed, since it's heading towards summer (here in Montana, it is not quite there yet), humans, particularly of the vagina carrying type, have seriously upped the negative self-talk. You know, where you announce to the world (or repeatedly to yourself) that your (name of human body part) is (adverbly/adjectively) (negative adjective).

 I used to do this ALL THE TIME.  In health class in 11th grade, we all had to introduce ourselves, and my introduction was, "I'm JRose, and I'm fat." and that wasn't a simple declarative like I use now, it was an attempt at being mean to myself, and to let everyone know that I was aware of my (negative adjective) fat, and they didn't need to tell me because believe me, I thought I was (negative superlative adjective-er) than they could ever think me.

And I was superlatively unhappy.  Even if my body changed, I wasn't happy. No matter what happened, I had a negative remark to fit the occasion, and while there were certain jerks in my life who helped me cumulate those negative thoughts, mostly, it was me, repeating them in my head, allowing people and companies to steal my self-esteem and sell it back to me wholesale. It is a lucrative business, selling self-esteem.

But here is what I learned... there is an unending supply of self-esteem out there, so much that no one ever needs to mine it from someone else. All it takes is... not buying into that bullshit.

Now, I am not saying that everyone should be a stubbly smelly bridge troll, unless you are into that sort of thing (not that there's anything wrong with that), but if you are tired of feeling like crap about yourself all the time, you can totally stop. You don't have to do a thing other than telling your jerk brain to shut the hell up when it starts nagging you. When it starts saying, "Jesus, Joe and Mary, think your thighs could possibly make anymore sound when you're walking!?" Say to that voice, "Yes, asshole, corduroy, now shut up. I have some Doctor Who replacement to think about... ain't nobody got time for your smack talk." And when it says "You have wrinkles at the corners of your eyes, you looking fucking ancient." say, "I laugh a lot, that's why, bitch. I'm happy and I have fun when you aren't here talking shit about me! So I get all squinty -- enough that, of course, my skin shows it. That is what skin is built to do." And when it says, "You're a loser!" Say, "YOU'RE A LOSER! SHUT UP! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH ANYWAY?! You know we are working here in the same body, right, if I'm all the shit you say I am, you are too, and you know what, neither of us really are, and there is no reason for any of this! I am making the choice to silence you RIGHT NOW. ZIP IT!"

Does this mean sit in a hole for the rest of your life pleased as punch about how awesome you are without ever doing anything positive? Probably not. I mean you could, if you really wanted to, but there are very few people I know who think sitting in a hole singing their own praises is terribly fulfilling. But it does mean that you can cut yourself some slack.

For example, I don't run, I have no desire to run, I don't think I would even really want to run if someone was chasing me with a machete.

Not once in my life have I enjoyed running, so things that pertain to my skills as a runner are not things that I worry about. Why should I? I have no interest in it, so it's not something I should be ashamed of having no skills in.  I do worry about my skills as an artist, it is important to me, and is fulfilling. But sitting here telling myself that this artist does better work than I do does me absolutely no good. Just like telling myself that my knees are not what I consider ideal, visually, does nothing positive for me. They are the knees I have. They have gotten me through 36 years of walking, and skipping, and sitting, and hopping, and other things that I won't write about because my mom reads this (Hi Mom!), and I would rather have them than have no knees at all. Seriously, my lower legs would be much less appealing if they were trailing behind me attached by some rope and a twist tie. So, I am not saying that you should never work on things that are important to you.  That is not what this is about.

I'm just saying, there is a good chance that your life, and the lives of those people you surround yourself with, might just be a little more awesome without that dick voice in our heads being allowed free run of the place. That little voice is usually just trying to fuck shit up, because it is what we have all been trained to do, and it's easy, it's habit, and because for some reason, this society has some sort of beef against people who actually like themselves. Companies have a HUGE interest in convincing you to hand over your self-esteem so they can mass produce it, package it in fancy wrapping, and then sell it back to you by working in collusion with that little fucker in your head. Your self-esteem is YOURS. The word "self" kind of assumes that... you already have it. Sometimes, you just need to shut that son of a bitching voice inside your head off so you can hear it.

That said, my challenge to everyone reading this, should you like to experiment, is to do what you can to shut that voice up for one full day. Just one day of no complete negative self-talk (complete, as in allowing the whole thought to come out unchallenged). That voice is gonna yell like a toddler having a temper tantrum most likely, so don't let the backup voice chastise you for the first voice trying to get its way, but try, for one day to see how you feel without negative self-talk, and let me know how it goes!

Anti-Anti-E

I was asked the other day if I have a Tumblr, and I must say, I really enjoy all of the things that Tumblr has to offer--  like GIFs of Evan Peters naked or licking peanut butter off of a blow up doll. Or for blogs like my friend's "Fuck Yeah, Goatse" page (again, if you don't know what Goatse is, don't just go wantonly googling that shit, you need to be prepared for it*),

 or Tard the Grumpy Cat's blog  (holy shit, I cannot get enough of that cat!), 

or Chandler Bing Dances on Things,   

(source, there ^)

but I don't have a Tumblr account, and I won't because I won't support companies that discriminate against the letter E.



I feel the same way about Flickr, but Yahoo went ahead and set up an account with them without my permission since once upon a time, I had a Yahoo email account and I verge on being an internet hoarder, so I never unregister for sites that sign me up (seriously, still get Netlog notifications... never signed up for it, but I am there, apparently).

I want to know what exactly they have against Es.

Yes, I know the E isn't needed. We don't REALLY pronounce it. But you don't pronounce both of the Es in my name but you don't see me spelling my name Jod.

So I guess what I'm saying, is that unless someone else signs me up for Tumblr, I won't have an account there where I will be forced to waste hours of my life looking at and reblarging pictures of cats and porny gifs.



*Also on the topic of Goatse, after watching this commercial (below) over and over again, I think that Goatse would be an excellent security password picture for a Windows 8 machine.

also, as a reminder, Hanukkah starts in 4 days, and as always, there will be 8 crazy days of me posting horrible/amusing things for you guys! So be there, or one of them will be Goatse.

The Reality of Reality Shows

I've come to the conclusion that if I ever find myself on a reality show, this will be my speech for the interview room:

     interview room courtesy of DXstock 

Yes, apparently the reality show I am in takes place in a partially demolished building in Russia. It's probably a reality cooking show or something with magical ponies.

I don't necessarily think I would actually lose said magical pony cooking show, because, I'm pretty awesome, I just don't want to have people at home rolling their eyes at me, as I do, with the usual competition chatter:

• I didn't come here to lose.
• I'm the best and I came here to prove it!
• Failure ISN'T an option!

I'm more realistic than that.  I think failure is always an option, or well, a very possible outcome. You may not CHOOSE to fail, but you seriously need to understand that the odds are pretty much pushing you that way and it is better to choose to fail than to have failure thrust upon you, by, say, falling off a cliff and breaking every bone in your body on TV. Yeah, I'd rather choose to fail less painfully in that case.

and of course the shirt is for sale! 

I love you for your insides!

No one can agree on what REAL men are supposed to like. I have an opinion though, which I voiced on this facebook post. 

Beyond it being insulting, because who wants to be loved only if someone DISREGARDS what they look like- "Oh baby, I love you even though you're REALLY ugly and your body gives me dry heaves!" This whole, "What you have inside is what counts" thing is just creepy to me.

It's not what's on the inside that counts, your insides are squishy and mostly full of poop. It is your attitude, and your face, and your body, and your sense of humor, and all of that, is on the outside, because that is where you present it, and people should like your outside, even if it is lumpy or has wrinkles, or if your left eye likes to drift to the side when you aren't focusing, or if you make jokes that people don't always get.

Your body is where you live and keep all your thoughts, and people who like you should like it just how it is, damn it. 

Also, seriously, serial killers, I'm not joking.

Why I am a follower RE: SOPA and PiPA

So I blacked out the blarg to support the total eradication of SOPA and PiPA (though I could totally go for some sopa, since it is so cold outside- that's a spanish joke). The thing is, I have been an artist for a very long time, and in that time, I have both had my art stolen, and been accused of stealing art. Every time my art was stolen, I used the laws ALREADY in place to get the work taken down, and every time I was accused of stealing art, it was because the person accusing me was an asshole.

For example, a gentleman posted a lovely nude photo of himself in a community I belonged to and I said, "My, that is lovely, may I paint it?" and he said
"Oh yes, I would love to be painted!"
And then I painted his lovely nude picture (digitally, because I paint digitally), and when I showed it to him, he said, "WELL, IF I KNEW YOU WERE JUST GOING TO PUT A FILTER ON IT I WOULDN'T HAVE LET YOU USE MY IMAGE!!!!!" presumably because he thought having an altered photo of him in the world altered his soul or something, though my painting was indeed a painting and not just some filtered image.
And so I replied, "I'm sorry, if I had known that you expected me to be unable to paint convincingly and realistically, I wouldn't have bothered taking time to paint your ass (literally) for free." and then I took it down, and then I told the internet about it 8 years later, because that guy was a douche.
There was also the craptacular time that my elementary school had a contest to draw a new tiger mascot for a wall mural, with a cash prize, and I was disqualified because they thought I had traced my entry instead of having drawn it from scratch. I had drawn it from scratch. Being a good artist doesn't pay sometimes.



But the point is, SOPA and PiPA want to make it so that this site could be taken down if they even suspect that I am breaking someone's copyright. No due process, no questions, just gone... and that is not okay.  There are already laws that cover piracy and maybe we copyright holders need more avenues for recourse, but creating sweeping laws that take away our freedoms in the hopes that it might help get rid of copyright violation outside the US is ultimately not helpful. They need to find a better way. So, that was what that was all about.

p.s. Don't forget to get your animal high fives in before midnight my time. cheeseblarg at live dot com

Happy New Year!

Many years ago, I made a resolution not to make any more resolutions, and I've stuck to it since.  It is a shame, because I am really good at sticking to resolutions.  For example, I resolved, after breaking up with Evil Mike never to date anyone, ever again, who I did not find at least reasonably attractive upon first seeing them. That worked out well for me since my husband is pretty cute.

I think if I were to make resolutions, it would only be right for them to be ridiculous and super easy.  Like:

or perhaps:

I resolve to annoy celebrities on twitter until one of them finally acknowledges me as awesome OR blocks me.


Resolving not to do things seems like a drag. I have enough opportunities to be disappointed in myself naturally (still neurotic), I don't need to manufacture any more that I then declare publicly, giving other people the opportunity to be disappointed in me too. I think if you are gonna set up rules for yourself, they should make you happy, not miserable. So if you are still into resolving stuff, go easy on yourself, and please consider making at least one funny/easy resolution so you can feel like a success and add some laughter to your life... and then tell me about it so I can laugh too.

And hey, because I am a nerd and can't help myself, SEE YOU NEXT YEAR! =P

How to tell if someone is depressed, or maybe a hipster.

I couldn't be bothered to put on pants today to leave the house.

I don't mean I went out buck-assed naked on the bottom half, I just couldn't be bothered to put on ACTUAL pants to leave the house today.  Nor a bra.

I was just going to pick my nephew up from school and knew I was not getting out of my car (unless it somehow exploded into flames or something), so I think I am still safe.  When I start walking around in public wearing pajama pants and an old shirt with no bra, it is probably time for medication.

Although, one time, when I was in college, I decided that I would wear my flannel pajama top with a pair of jeans because it was cold out and I thought the top was cute.  I ended up at the health clinic and a lovely, but very concerned doctor tried to diagnose me with depression.  I assured him I had a raging case of weirdness, but that I had not giving up on life because I made ill-advised fashion choices.

It's the bra, really.  As long as someone who needs it is wearing a bra or some sort of chestal support with non-sexy clothing , I am willing to believe that they still have some sort of hold on their sanity. As long as the bra is worn as prescribed, of course.  It doesn't count if it is on the outside of their clothes, or on their head.  And even that can be argued for the sake of fashion, I suppose. I really don't know how to gauge it for people who don't need bras. Not brushing their hair? Wearing sweatpants to work when their job does not involve working out in cold climates? Am I just describing hipsters now?

Charming Thanksgiving Fun

As I said last year, I like to terrorize my Thanksgiving guests and make them DO things before they can have their dinner.  Because I use up all my creativity drawing stupid pictures and joking about horrifying genres of porn, my staple torture device is "The Hand Turkey." If you are unfamiliar with the hand turkey tradition, you are either not American, were home-schooled, or may have some sort of memory disorder.  Basically, you trace your hand, and make the tracing into a turkey. Very complicated stuff.

I tried really hard to come up with more Thanksgiving crafts, but it took way more effort than I was willing to expend and I thought googling would be cheating. If you have any, especially if they are really awful (not goatse awful, please... although... no, not goatse awful) do let me know.  In the meantime, I created an easy set of print-outs so you can share my Thanksgiving traditions with your families.

Extra llama points if  you post a hand turkey on the FB page... just so you know!

Also, PLACE CARDS!  You have to have place cards at family dinners, because, a) you certainly cannot trust people to pick their own seats, and b) actually telling people where to sit is out of the question. You are already flustered enough trying to get everything out passive-aggressively hot so Aunt Beverly doesn't bitch that the potatoes are cold again this year, and if you have to repeat yourself at all, you may just stab a ho'.

I've included one for if your family has a sense of humor, and one to keep you from being disinherited. Just print it out on card stock, carefully cut along the blue border and write your guests' name in the blank area. Or something like that...



*if you don't know what Goaste is and you look it up, it is not my fault. I'm not kidding. Curiosity/Cat/Yadda. Eye Bleach does not exist.

I'm not cute.

I'm really not cute.  I know that I draw cute stuff, and it is all adorable and shit, but seriously, I don't know where it comes from. I suspect I may have a precious darling alternative personality that comes out when it is time to draw things, because in reality I am coarse, and vulgar, and get in trouble all the time for being inappropriate in public.  I mean, not in legal trouble or anything, but my mom gets on my case all the time for cursing, and talking about rude things, and generally being "un-cute."
I suppose being regarded as cute (and creating cute things) is not the most horrific thing that could happen... but it is not totally representative of who I am. My allusions to ridiculous porn and people pooping out of their mouths, that is much more me.

These Boots Were Made for Walking... Dead

Look, "The Walking Dead," I like you, or at least I want to like you, but fer real... I am going to have to start rooting for the zombies soon if you don't stop with making the humans complete freaking idiots.

I mean, yes, they are in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, they are a little stressed, I get that, but I cannot continue to spend the rest of the series yelling "OMG STFU you IDIOT!!!!" at my television.  Zombies=STFU. They just do. When things want to eat your flesh and/or brains, that is not the time for obnoxious whimpering or squealing or crying. It is time for absolute stillness and silence.

You're going to need to cover blood pressure pills for me if this continues.

Why we laugh- with kittens.

It bothers me, as a humor writer and funny person, that people, for the most part, seem to have absolutely no clue why we, as humans, laugh.

People will often say "HE WAS LAUGHING AT IT, HE OBVIOUSLY THINKS IT ISN'T SERIOUS OR IMPORTANT," which is often the case in jokes about rape or cancer.  And to that I think... you're dumb. People don't laugh at things that they like or advocate, ever... or mostly ever.  People laugh because they are taken by surprise and/or made uncomfortable. That is why knock knock jokes are almost entirely unfunny. We laugh at things that break a regular pattern that we are used to, which is why what is funny to me may not be funny to you. This is also probably why people unsubscribe from me every time I make a new post, but that is besides the point.

In order for something to be funny, it has to be unexpected... and generally negative/dangerous/scary/wrong.

For example:

A fuzzy gray kitten.

Not funny at all. 

A kitten that looks like Hitler. 

Fairly funny.  

Jedi Kittens

... hilarious.

Why my house is now clean.

There are two types of people who watch the show Hoarders- those who start cleaning their houses before the show is even over. . . and hoarders.

And a pinch to grow an inch!

Hey! Hey guys!

In exactly ONE MONTH, guess what!!!

No... guess again.
. . .

Damn it, fine.

IT WILL BE MY BIRTHDAY!!!

I wanted to give you advance warning so that you could all get together and plan me the best internet surprise party EVAR.  I'll go along thinking, 'they've all forgotten, no one's said a thing about it at all,' but then POW, you'll all jump out and scream "SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" and then I will most likely have a heart attack, which would be really sad... but wouldn't you be quite startled if approximately 1200 people all jumped out at you at the same time? That shit is scary.  Don't do that!

And you really couldn't keep it a secret anyway.  I would be driven to google "Surprise party for JRose" every day, because someone will make some comment somewhere and I would KNOW, just KNOW what was going on, and my detective nature will ruin it all. I'm an asshole like that.

But other than Halloween, birthdays are my favorite holidays. What's better than a day ALL FOR ME ONE SPECIAL PERSON!?  No one in my family really made a big deal about major holidays growing up, but my parents threw my sister and me big theme birthday parties every year that were totally bitchin'. AND they let us have boy/girl sleepovers, in high school, so yeah.

 I know you are thinking to yourself now, 'You've convinced me, your birthday is super important, but what should I get you!?' because like me, you are desperate for love and attention thoughtful and generous. And to that I say, "You don't have to get me a damned thing... unless you want to..." and then I will take anything that wasn't rubbed on a dead body OR poop and that doesn't contain something that will surely cause me some sort of physical harm. No zombie viruses, no anthrax, no ground glass, and though I appreciate the thought, no bodily fluids.

That may not help, but clearly you have been reading my blarg so you should have a slight idea of things that I like.

Llamas, narwhals, goats, dinosaurs, Back to the Future, Ghostbusters, R2-D2 (and Star Wars), Data (and Star Trek), Harry Potter, Portal, zombies, bacon, candy (that doesn't taste like bacon), stickers, felt barrettes, large stacks of cash and gift cards, diamonds, unicorn shaped jumbo jets, keys to a shiny new Australia.... or a mash up of any of the above.

Here is some examples of things I think are awesome:

Awesome Dino Felt Barrette

Interesting fact- I always draw myself mirrored. I actually wear my barrettes on the right side. 

R2D2 felted charm

Portal Weighted Companion Cube Pendant

Any of these things from my wishlist on ThinkGeek.com

 

And Archie McPhee is always fun:

 I also collect metal lunchboxes, hand-painted plastic snowdomes, and mold-o-rama figurines and have a wishlist at amazon.com.

And one of my favorite birthday songs, to get us all in the mood!

p.s. You are totally expected to save birthday wishes for my actual birthday. I mean, you can give them now but they don't actually count until 4:04 am EST October 2nd.


ETA- Awesome reader Ronja has created a facebook birthday party event. I think it maybe be a surprise, but I somehow figured it out. =P

Super Sneaky Lard-O-Matic

As much as I don't like offending other people, I find that just being me tends to do it sometimes. As I alluded to in "When Food Attacks," I don't diet. Beyond my base objections to it, I have a billion allergies and food intolerances and a disease that made me starve for 6 years as a result, so I'm not interested in denying myself food by choice. In general, I tell people this once and they leave me alone, but sometimes, strangers like to be helpful, noticing that I am what people consider 'OMG SO FAT!' and assume that I am obviously dieting and need their helpful advice, which I don't. I've learned from this that it really freaks people out when you respond to secret special diet information with, "Oh, thanks, no, I don't diet." It's this scandalous moment when I could have just as easily said, "Oh, no thank you, do you have grandchildren? I would like to roast them and eat them while baying at the moon, naked."

I know that it is easier sometimes to just nod and wander away, but some people just won't leave it alone.

The diet conspiracy lady approached me several years ago in the frozen food aisle of a Publix Supermarket. I had to work the next day and didn't feel like making myself lunch and so I was looking at the huge selection of frozen entrees that were on sale. I stood there, slack jawed, looking at all the different varieties wondering if any of them were actually palatable. Crazy diet lady sidles up to me. 'Oh lord, she is gonna start talking to me,' I realize after I've made accidental eye contact with her.
"A lot of choices, huh?"
Fuck... fine, my fault for looking at her, "Sure are. Do you know if any of these actually taste good?"
"I mean, some of them are okay, I've been trying to drop those last 20 pounds so I know this one is pretty good, very low fat, but you don't want those, you want these," and she motions over to a freezer full of a popular diet company's dinners which happen to be 3 times more expensive than the ones I was looking at. I look over, smile and nod politely and try to steer my way back to the sale dinners. "These," she points to more low calorie meals, "you should NEVER get these."
"Oh," I say.
"Oh, yes, I heard, " she says, leaning in, "That they SNEAK calories into their food."
"Oh, I'm not worried about calories..."
"What!?" she sounds nervous.
"I, uh, I don't diet. I was just looking for something that was cheap and fairly tasty."
"Oh," she says. "Oh..." and she grabs her cart and scampers away, looking back at me like I just admitted I like licking kitten feet.

Which, with their forays into litter boxes, I totally am not into.

As much as it may be your urge, I am not interested (still) in debating the topic of dieting. At all. Still a humor blarg.  And "OMG SO FAT" is not an insult in my eyes so no need to try to reassure me.  I am quite content in my body, no matter what the size. That is all.

When it rains, it pours!

I love thunderstorms. We rarely get them here in Montana, especially where I live which is surrounded on all sides by mountains, so really “bad” weather often passes us by. But we are having them today and it makes me happy.

Where I went to college (Gainesville, Fl-- Go Gators!) it rained EVERY SINGLE DAY in the summer at precisely 3pm.  I didn’t realize this my first semester, which was a summer semester, and so every day I would walk to class at 1 pm in the sun and I would get out at 3 pm, utterly dumbfounded to find that  the skies had ripped open and every ounce of water on the ENTIRE EARTH was falling from the sky.
I had been through hurricanes in Miami and I had no idea that THAT MUCH water could fall from the sky, all at once.

And of course, I never brought an umbrella, both because it never occurred to me that it was going to rain, even though it did, everyday, but also because I consider umbrellas to be way too mature.
Staying out of the rain is the sort of behavior that you expect from adults, and people who take the time to style their hair, and those who have the good sense not to walk across campus in a thunderstorm because they realize they are most likely going to get sick, or at the least, all of their clothes will be perpetually soggy, and I am just not the kind of person that considers those things. To me, umbrellas are a symbol of a broken spirit.

Of course, if someone offers to share their umbrella with me, and it is big enough, I will squeeze under it with them, because that totally feels fun and free-spirited, but otherwise, I quite enjoy walking through a rain storm and getting soggy, because it reminds me that I don’t have anyone who expects me to be dry.

Comment Marauder

It has been pointed out to me that I am strange in my habit of reading comments on other people's postings.  I do this for pieces of art, blog posts, videos, facebook pages... pretty much anywhere someone posts something to solicit comments, I am going to read the comments.  To me, the reason for sharing things on the internet is to interact with other people and as such, the interaction is part of the experience.

The response that I get when I tell people this is usually, "Well, I read my comments!"

Yes, I read your comments too. I want to hear what people say about things that I take the time to read, for the most part. Comments are really interesting, often funny.  There are whole websites dedicated to seeing people's replies (for Facebook, at least).  So yes, usually, I click and read everything that everyone says to my friends.  I even go back when I have nothing better to do and check if there are more comments.

Okay, fine, maybe I am just a creepy stalker...

And hey guys, my friend, Pat, is looking for support for a short movie he is trying to make.  If you would be interested in helping out a beginning director with his horror movie, please check out this link.