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.

New Things I Learned This Week- Episode 3

I haven't learned all that much this week because I am doing the vacationing thing, but I have made quite a few observations, like this ad I found in the back of a health food store's wellness magazine:

The disturbing part here is the wine offering. As I tweeted:

I did learn, however a terrible terrible lesson last night, while getting up in the middle of the night at my friend's house to pee:

Honestly, electrical plugs are like the bachelor's Lego. I feel it is my duty to warn everyone now. DON'T STEP ON THEM.  It is highly unpleasant. 

And finally, a culinary observation: 

Obligatory (Inappropriate) Olympics Post

If you have been following me on Twitter, you may have noticed that I am watching the Olympics. I am expanding on my commentary here, though, for your hopeful amusement.

Check in on Getglue: Olympics Opening Ceremony - I'm only here for Voldie vs. Mary Poppins.

I have no idea what this pommel horse shit is supposed to look like. They just remind me of fancy paraplegics. #inappropriate #olympics

Honestly, their legs going all twirly and stuff freaks me out, and my research tells me that paraplegics actually can and do compete in pommel horse exercises, so I feel slightly less like an ass for my observation.

Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.

I usually like fat boys, but I wouldn't kick these swimmers out of my bed. #olympics #perving

Unless they were jumping on it, because that is just annoying.

I hate volleyball. I'm watching it, because it is on, but I still suffer from face:ball related PTSD from my high school years. #olympics

When I was in high school, the only sports my school had was basketball and volleyball. Our lunch period was an hour and twenty minutes and often, after people ate (or before) they would play volleyball in the courtyard. I liked a boy on the volleyball team and no matter where I sat to watch him play, without fail, the ball would come soaring at me and hit me in the face*.  It's like my face was a ball magnet. I think I stopped liking the boy just so I wouldn't have to watch him play anymore.

*That was also the year that my dad taught me that you could kill a person by jambing your palm into their nose, so I was particularly afraid that the ball would hit me that way and kill me.

Does gymnastics cause sexual excitation, or are all the male gymnasts wearing erection shaped cups? #inappropriate #olympics


Seriously, have you seen this? It's like wang central up in the gymnastics competition.



I am seriously in awe of these amazing athletes though, and I think they are all awesome. Their talent is beyond anything that I would have the dedication to do. I can hardly talk myself into brushing my teeth, let alone training for years to be the glowing unicorns of sports that they are!

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.

One-Uppers and Grief Shamers

While writing my post about Suffering Magnets, I came to the realization that I may be a One-Upper.

You know, those people who tell you something of equal or greater horror when you tell them something bad that happened to you?


I don't mean to be a One-Upper, it is just that people tell me something has happened to them and then, in an effort to relate, I tell a story about something similar that has happened to me, which usually tends to be a bit more terrible because, as we have established, things are always bafflingly fucked up in my life. So I hear the words just flowing out of my head and I think, 'SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. They think you are playing the Grief Olympics.. they think you are an asshole, just shut the hell up'... but OMG it just feels so good to share grief, to remove it from your stupid jerk head and let it out into the world like a little grief dragon, to let it stretch and spread its wings after keeping it cooped up in your belfry of a brain ALL THE TIME.

I'd like to quietly listen and say, "Oh jeepers! That is just so awful, you poor person, what can I do?" but it is rarely what ends up happening. Even though I try... really really hard.

 But in no way am I trying to be a Grief Shamer.

Grief Shamers are the type of people who won't let you have a second of complaining without reminding you that no matter what you are are upset about, other people have it 7 billion times worse so you should just STFU and be glad your grandpa was eaten by a tiger because your ENTIRE FAMILY could have been eaten by A STREAK OF TIGERS EQUIPPED WITH LASERS!

I don't even believe in shaming "First World Problems."  I think sharing suffering make it suck less and there is no shame in that. So, if people wanna complain to me about Bravo's Twitter team spoiling the winner of Top Chef for every time zone other than Eastern, like a bunch of assholes, or finding that their bag of chips is lacking in delicious powdered flavor, I have no problem with that. I just have a problem if you don't want to hear about the time my Chili Cheese Fritos were kinda flavorless, too, and were full of bees that stung my throat and I had to go to the emergency room, but I couldn't get in because it was full of wolves... with lasers.

Dr. Pants- Watching the World End : A Review... kinda.

Approximately 2 weeks ago, some version of this conversation happened:

I also informed the awesome Dr. Pants that I am terrible at reviewing stuff and fail, often, at doing things on time, despite best intentions. However, my desire to not embarrass myself by looking like some flighty jerk outweighed my overwhelming need to not prioritize things that I am not paid to do (because I am not being paid for this review, or compensated in any way, I really am doing it because their rocking concert in The Bloggess' bathroom turned me into a fan, and because I was assured that drawing songs wasn't a cop out) so here we go... BEFORE DEADLINE, BITCHES!

Watching the World End is Dr. Pants' new EP, scheduled for release on April 28, at which time you should totally go and buy the hell out of it. The EP is the third of a four-part series entitled THE TRIP.

The album is fun and funny, a mixture of funk and nerdy rock.  It consists of 6 songs, all of which I illustrated, and all of which are worth listening to. I know that doesn't sound like much of a recommendation, but as I advised, I suck at reviewing and when I say something is worth listening to, it means it is actually enjoyable and good.  Now on to my illustrations!

Robot Spiders 

This is by far my favorite song on the album because the story it tells is so much fun. Don't even take my word for it, listen for yourself!

Collections

This song has nothing to do with cats, I don't think, as it is an instrumental. I just wanted a reason to draw cat buttholes since all the cool bloggers feature cat buttholes and it makes them famous. Also, I like the idea of a living collection, because it is awful, just awful. Unless you collect cats, in which case, I don't mean to insult you, but really... there might be something wrong with you.

No Funkies

I am reminded of the hip coffee culture in my college town of Gainesville, FL listening to this song, for some reason.  It is entirely funky and so catchy I find myself singing it randomly. "We don't want no funkies in here."

Natalie

Very reminiscent of Weezer, this song is, and again, catchy. It also reminds me of the 80s, probably because it stirs up my first feelings of unrequited love when, in 6th grade, I was sitting and in my closet talking to Jorge Herrera on my cheeseburger phone and I said "Oh Jorge, I like you so much, I would do anything for you!" and he said "Oh really, well, could you tell Susan that I like her!" Susan was my best friend. I said "Ok..." and then hung up and cried for a while. This song would have made me feel better at the time. Especially if I had sung it while punching Jorge in the face.

Dog -> Hurricane

There are times when the melodies in this song remind me of Ween, and that is a good thing in my book. It waxes philosophic on the Butterfly Effect in true nerd style, starting at the title of the song that uses mathematical notation, and it makes me smile.  Especially when picturing a villainous dog. I know, these damned descriptions will do you no good unless you hear the songs.  That is the point. LISTEN TO THE SONGS... when they are available, of course. April 28th!

I Am Yours

This is a sweet and intimate upbeat love song and I am a jackass for illustrating it as I do with Spiderman and Harry Potter (complete with Triwizard Tournament Trophy), but it should not be news that I am a jackass.

So there you go. I appreciate being given the chance by Dr. Pants to share this music with you guys, and I hope that you will listen to the album when it comes out and you will enjoy it as much as I did. Also, I'd like a Robot Spider when available, guys. You know where to reach me for shipping details.

The Poop-a-thon Begins

Remember, I am live tweeting today (and tomorrow) about my colonoscopy prep. Good times. Good times.

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.

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

Cake continues to be a lie.

Yes, I'm alive. Thank you for checking on me.  I went for a three-hour cruise on the S.S. F.U.NABLAPOMO and after several days of getting stranded on the isle of Mai Intestines Haight Me with the professor and Mary Ann, I am back.


And now that I can tentatively keep food down again, my body delivered the following message via twitter:

"I think I'd like Pepperidge Farm vanilla cake with chocolate frosting for breakfast. I don't have any but that's what my body wants."

Well, I mean, I wrote that, I don't have some internal twitterater, but it was a direct message from my body.

So I set out to find my precious Pepperidge Farm Golden 3-Layer Cake, directly.

And then, 4 hours later:

THERE IS NO CAKE!

Seriously, this town is like a black hole of things that JRose wants to eat.



And yes, I am aware that I can ask my store to order things, but that doesn't put the cake in my mouth when I want it... which is now.

Non-Famous Twitter Illustrations #3- Toenail Clipper Stealing Zombies

Today's word is "Toenail" in honor of my friend Jeri who keeps tweeting about her big toenails coming off from running the Fargo Marathon... and it is grossing me out and apparently stuck in my mind when I had to choose a random word for this post. And now you guys get to be grossed out too. Sorry... misery loves company.
Oh yeah, also, there are far too many people out there talking about detaching toenails on twitter, for the record. See how I suffer for my art.  I need an adult. D=

heeezye 

the zombies came and stole my [effing] toenail clippers. #pissed

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.

Non-Famous Twitter Illustrations #2- Platypus Monocle

Now, I know I said that the purpose of NFTI is to illustrate bland posts, but this one was too good and entertaining not to illustrate. And after searching for 'platypus' and finding this, I asked the tweeter if it was original. He assured me it was and let me know that he had posted a list of other scenarios I could illustrate as well, and I might just take him up on it.

Here, from Hunter (@hsqrdcreative) :

"Ok, I get what you're saying but, what if...the platypus had a monocle? Eh?"

Non-Famous Twitter Illustrations #1

I know there is a blog out there that takes famous people's interesting and/or funny tweets and illustrates them, which is a brilliant idea, but also someone else's idea, so I figured I would take random people's tweets that are not terribly interesting or funny and illustrate them. I'm going to start with my search for the word cheese, for possibly obvious reasons... hopefully obvious? Seriously, do you even know where you are?

 Really, it was only because my first choice of  "llama" didn't pan out.

Anyway, here is one from @MsReeseCups* on twitter:

"Cheese and doe!"

Yeah, she probably meant "dough" but that wouldn't have made for nearly as cute of an illustration, though it would have been the start of  a delicious pizza.

*How delicious are Reese's Cups!? Really... I mean unless you are allergic to peanuts and then ack... well, possibly still delicious but then, also potentially deadly... or if you are not American and/or don't like peanut butter... they probably taste pretty crappy to you. Never mind, going with delicious!

It's late, do you know where your stomach is?

It has come to my attention that many people don't actually know where their stomach is. Most people who complain of having a stomach ache are not at all talking about their stomachs, but are having intestinal pain (see It's a Gas, Gas, Gas!).  I happen to be an expert on gut pain, so here is a handy dandy graphic for you, so you can identify what part is involved in case you are having pain in your belly area. Of course I am not a doctor, but I spend enough time googling, and hearing about my guts in doctors' offices, that you can trust my anatomical knowledge:

(All of my pictures are bigafiable by clicking them, if you didn't know- and this has been edited to be less funny and more accurate, in case someone decided to refer to a humor blarg in a real emergency. Note, stomach is cartoonized for cuteness.)

I hope that helps.  

But most of all, your guts are not a laughing matter, okay maybe a little bit, but if things start getting weird in there, please see a doctor. And tweet about it, people love hearing about intestinal distress on Twitter.

These are a few of my favorite things... A.K.A. It's better than nothing!

I've managed to contract half of a flu, which is to say, I'm not going to a doctor to pay to be told I have "virus syndrome" but I feel like I've been hit by a moving vehicle, for no discernible reason, because I feel fine otherwise, just... beaten and bruised, though I am actually neither of those things.

TL;DR- I feel like crap.

So instead of drawing anything, I am sharing things that have brought me grand amounts of joy lately:

Amanda Palmer:

Actually, the whole album makes me all kinds of happy, and only costs a minimum of 69¢ (That is, you can pay more if you like, which I did). You can listen to it all here before buying it! Or just listen to it there and not buy it... some of the lyrics are NSFW, btw.


This post from JerBear Shares:

I'm a Car Genius, FYI!

Seriously, I'm fairly certain she is gonna start being afraid of me soon, because my love for her is so strong that I am now writing about it in my blarg and it's beginning to seem creepy even to me, but she's freakin' funny!

Unicornomics on Twitter:

The funniest part about them is reading their replies to other people.  They also did a great post about Sparkles' babies.

Tiffany and her cakes, which she loves:

Tiffany Loves Cake!

She is a teaching herself the art of cake and I love what she does.  The insides are so cool, too, in fact, a picture of her 7 layer rainbow cake was what endeared me to her, and her tattoos. Don't miss her exclusive  post on the Santa Claw either!

And lastly, stickers, puffy weird stickers. I found some with narwhals and other lesser celebrated sea creatures, and some with lovey Australian animals recently.  Not much that is cuter than kissing duck-billed platypi (which would actually be correctly pluralized as platypodes, but damn it... PLATYPI!).


So yeah, sorry for no art, but feel free to draw me some strange animal hybrids or make me "Get Well" bouquets of bacon to speed my recovery!

OMG IT’S FULL OF STARS!

I find one of the most disappointing thing about celebrities on social media is that the majority of them ignore the majority of us.  I understand they have other things to do and can't spend all day looking at links people send them of the same baby panda sneezing and scaring its mom.  But like, when someone takes their time to paint a picture of a famous person, or for a famous person, I make note of ones who actually respond with thanks and a link to said picture, and I am impressed.

I enjoy getting to know people who like my art and/or writing.  If I ever get famous for it, which I plan on doing, damn it, I'd hire a friend to scour the web looking for things made for me by fans so I could give proper credit, if it got too overwhelming to do myself. That way, I can be secure in knowing that there is no one out there making a voodoo doll of me and covering it in syrup because they drew me an awesome llama-narwhal hybrid and I didn't look at it or more so, thank them.

Smoke-butt get away from that fire!

When my computer broke, I got a lot of twitter spam about getting a free computer (if I just "filled out some survey") when I complained about the death of my hard drive. I got one the other night, when tweeting about my husband getting me dinner, offering advice on how to deal with men.  Once, I mentioned my best friend from college who died tragically and how she had come to my wedding, and was sent spam for wedding favors (I assure you, they got 140 angry characters back).

And so I have (almost) learned that you cannot mention certain things on twitter without expecting messages from obnoxious spambots:
Smoke, at all... kitchen on fire? Got a new gray cat? Like LOST?
Diets... Anti-diet? Gluten-Free diet? Diet Pepsi?
Harry Potter. No, really. Learned that last night.

Of course, there are lots of bots on twitter that redeem the whole random tweets from stranger-bots thing, like Sue Ellen Crandell who responded when I said "I'm right on top of that, Rose." Or how when you mentioned roads, the (now suspended) Doc Brown bot responded "Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads!" Totally makes spammy tweets like " Watch the new Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows movie for FREE!!! JUST CLICK THIS SKETCHY LINK!!!!" bearable.