54 Times Comics Were Totally Inappropriate

I have to do something…to say something, anything, just so that my not saying anything doesn’t go on for any longer. I miss saying things. I miss having something to say. I miss feeling like it was okay for me to say those somethings. I miss all of you. I miss me. I will find me, soon with any luck, and I will be back. XOXO

In the meantime here’s this:

54 Times Comics Were Totally Inappropes, Dog!

dazzler

That time Dazzler showed off her talents just a little too well.

jughead-the-butch

That time that “something” happened to Jughead. But on the plus side he appears to be getting a reach-around.

take-me-down-to-gay-city

That time that Superman went on holiday to that place he’d been hearing SO much about from Jimmy Olsen. Sorry Jimmy.

that-time-that-batgirl-made-clayface-splooge

That time that Batgirl made Clayface Slpooge all over himself.

that-time-that-batman-came-up-with-the-perfect-excuse-for-just-sitting-around-looking-at-gay-porn

That time that Batman came up with the perfect excuse for just sitting around looking at gay porn.

that-time-bruce-wayne-was-not-entirely-honest-about-his-relationship-with-superman

That time that Bruce Wayne was not entirely honest about his relationship with Superman.

aunt-may-jizz

That time that Peter Parker jizzed all over and Aunt May tried to clean it up.

that-time-lois-lane-was-clearly-sodomized-by-a-robot

That time that Lois Lane was clearly sodomized by a robot.

that-time-batgirl-and-robin-had-some-big-weekend-plans

That time that Robin and Batgirl had some big weekend plans. #orgy

that-time-that-ben-wanted-to-destroy-his-weiner

That time that Ben Grimm was really, really, really hard on his wiener.

that-time-that-captain-america-got-his-junk-fondled-by-a-disembodied-hand-coming-out-of-a-cave

That time that Captain America had his junk fondled by a disembodied hand that emerged from a mysterious cave.

that-time-that-cheetah-got-a-little-too-frisky-with-wonder-woman-in-the-ladies-room

That time that Cheetah got a little too frisky with Wonder Woman in the ladies’ room.

that-time-the-joker-got-really-defensive-about-his-boner

That time that the Joker got super defensive about his boner.

that-time-that-wonder-womans-mom-contemplated-her-future-while-staring-creepily-at-a-big-lesbian-orgy

That time that Wonder Woman’s mom contemplated her future whilst staring creepily at a big lesbian orgy.

that-time-that-superman-was-a-little-too-close-to-his-naked-cousin

That time that someone really needed to teach Superman about the boundaries observed between cousins here on earth.

that-time-that-the-flash-just-fucking-needed-nuts-hunred-of-nuts

That time that the Flash just fucking NEEDED nuts….hundreds of them.

that-time-that-wonder-woman-got-stapped-to-a-giant-vibrator

That time that Wonder Woman was strapped to a giant vibrator.

time-that-batman-was-going-to-teach-robin-a-manly-lesson-in-his-batcave

That time that Batman was going to teach Robin a very manly lesson right in his Batcave.

the-time-that-superman-prematurely-ejaculated-all-over-everything

That time that Superman prematurely ejaculated all over EVERYTHING.

that-time-wonder-woman-needed-to-bite-through-her-gag-so-she-could-perform-fellatio

That time that Diana needed to bite through her gag so she could perform fellatio….obvs.

that-time-that-tony-stark-and-steve-rogers-got-a-little-too-real-about-their-needs

That time that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers got a little too real about their needs.

that-time-that-this-bitch-had-her-priorities-in-order

That time this Bitch had her motherfucking priorities in order.

that-time-that-robin-obviously-had-blown-batman-so-well-that-bruce-was-finding-it-difficult-to-stand-up

That time that Robin had blown Batman so well that Batman was having trouble standing up after the devastatingly life altering orgasm.

that-time-that-superman-needed-his-daddy-to-punish-him

That time that Superman just NEEDED his Daddy to punish him….I mean we’ve all been there, right?

that-time-that-hecules-had-no-qualms-about-living-up-to-his-reputation

That time that Hercules had not qualms about living up to his reputation.

beautyandthebeast_wrap1

That time that Dazzler stood in the rain while feeling Hank McCoy’s nipples after having finally been won over by his teddy-bearish charm.

that-time-that-superman-had-big-plans-for-jimmy-olsen

That time, after the roofies kicked in, that Superman had big plans for Jimmy Olsen.

that-time-that-hawkeye-was-a-total-being-a-total-pussy-about-tigras-pussy

That time that Hawkeye was a total pussy about Tigra’s pussy.

 

that-time-that-batman-failed-to-understand-how-consensual-age-appropriate-s-and-m-works

That time that Batman failed to understand how consensual, age-appropriate S & M works.

that-time-that-batgirl-got-a-lot-more-than-she-bargained-for

That time that Batgirl got more than just a ride.

that-time-superman-got-a-bad-blowjob-and-then-tried-to-forget-it

That time that Superman got a very unsatisfactory blow job and then tried to block it out of his memory.

that-time-that-batman-would-have-needed-to-reevaluate-his-relationship-with-robin-is-he-could-have-read-minds

That time that Batman, had he been able to read minds, might have considered reevaluating his relationship with the Boy Wonder.

that-time-that-green-lantern-and-green-arrow-got-super-intimate-but-then-had-to-worry-about-the-consequences

That time that the Green Lantern and Green Arrow totally had sex but then had to deal with the consequences of their actions.

that-time-that-robins-leather-thong-had-batmans-teeth-marks-all-over-it

That time that Robin’s leather thong had Batman’s teeth marks all over it.

that-time-that-robin-got-arrested-for-indecent-exposre-4-minutes-after-this-panel-was-drawn

That time that Robin was arrested for indecent exposure about 4 minutes after this panel was drawn.

that-time-that-red-skull-really-struck-a-nerve-with-cap

That time that Red Skull really struck a nerve with Cap.

that-time-that-mr-fantastic-was-super-fucking-sexist-on-multiple-levels

That time that Mister Fantastic was super fucking sexist on multiple levels.

that-time-that-ironman-wanted-to-play-rough

That time that Ironman wanted to play ROUGH.

that-time-that-comissioner-gordon-was-concerned-about-robins-ability-to-handle-a-boner

That time that Commissioner Gordon was concerned about Robin’s ability to take a boner….he really shouldn’t have worried.

that-time-that_oh-sweet-god-in-heaven-what-white-nonsense-is-this

That time that Captain Marvel…OH SWEET GOD IN HEAVEN, what white nonsense is this?!?

that-time-this-chick-gave-it-to-her-moms-straight-about-her-love-of-the-d

That time that this Chick gave it to her moms straight about her love of the D.

that-time-when-the-hulk-was-just-too-much-for-ironman-to-take

That time that the Hulk was just too much for Ironman to take.

that-time-that-we-totally-knew-what-hecules-and-quicksilver-were-thinking

That time that we knew exactly what Hercules and Quicksilver were thinking.

that-time-that-superman-violently-ass_raped-santa

That time that Superman violently ass-raped Santa Claus.

that-time-that-robin-finally-figured-out-that-shit-was-super-awkward

That time that Robin finally figured out that shit between him and Bruce was starting to get SUPER awkward.

what-the-shit-is-this-nonsense

That time that Robin wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.

tom-and-the-bear

That time that Batman just sat on his fat ass in the next panel while a guy named Tom got sexually assaulted by a bear. Tom had to marry that bear.

that-time-batman-was-a-one-smooth-motherfucker

That time that Bruce Wayne was one smooth Motherfucker.

that-time-that-these-three-were-clearly-compensating-for-somethig

That time that these three were clearly compensating for something.

that-time-the-boy-woner-tried-tried-eating-ass-but-did-not-realize-you-had-to-take-off-the-pants-first

That time that Robin decided to try eating ass but did not realize that it works much better with the clothes off.

wow

That time that….you know what, this needs nothing from me that it does not already have on its own. Just….WOW!

that-time-those-bandits-used-a-vibrator-on-superman

That time that bandits tried to destroy Superman with a vibrator.

beautyandthebeast_bonuspanel

That time that Dazzler apparently got raped by Beast.

that-time-that-the-green-lantern-had-his-work-cut-out-for-him

That time that the Green Lantern had his work cut out for him.

The Power of Positive Drinking*

*Originally Published as “I am an Achiever” which was a thinly veiled Big Lebowski reference

ACTUALLY I wrote this over a ago and it was first published on May 17th, 2015. I did, however, add some things to the list so there are a few new/updated bits! Enjoy!

I wrote this a few weeks ago and read it at the live reading we did at the beginning of the month, but even if you came to the reading there are some extra goodies at the end of the post. Thanks for reading and I love you guys!!!

I took my son to the park the other day and, granted it was a mild Sunday afternoon of which we do not get many in April in the great Pacific Northwest, I saw 5 pregnant women there…5!!! Oh wait, it gets even more interesting from a sociological and anthropological stand-point (said no one ever…except for maybe Oliver Sacks)! Of all the pregnant women every single one was there with their already existing child/children. And of all of the families at the park that day the pregnant moms were making up nearly half of the moms! Now, I am fully aware that it is rutting season and we are coming out of winter wherein the humans hunker down and procreate, mainly to stay warm and have an excuse to shave, but this just seemed excessive to me. As I watched the the gravid parade of moms waddling slowly from one end of the playground to the other chasing after their rapidly swelling broods, I realized that two of the five already had four children to their names!!!! That means each of those two women were currently gestating a fifth child!!!!

I can’t be the only one who becomes immediately suspicious of anyone who voluntarily has, just an unreasonable shit ton of kids, right (I say voluntarily because I am just assuming that since I saw these ladies at the park neither of them has been chained up in a basement being forcibly and repeatedly impregnated by their captors, but stranger things have happened, GO CLEVELAND)? I mean there are only a few reasons why anyone has that many kids; 1) to repopulate the planet with ready-made, home-schooled evangelical cult members 2) their religious beliefs prohibit the use of birth control (see also reason 1) and 3) sheer stupidity (see also reasons 1 and 2). All this reproduction just seemed excessive to me. I mean these ladies were clearly trying to compensate for something because they were totally overachieving in the baby-making department; they were reproductive overachievers!!!

In the face of all this extravagantly superfluous and even a little show-offy propagation of the human species I started to feel a little bit like a reproductive underachiever with my one measly kid. I will allow that I do have a pretty top notch baby (yes, I realize that he is four and no longer a baby but he will ALWAYS be my baby so shut up about it, okay!), with whom I am desperately in love. But every now and then, as I imagine all mothers do, I get sort of nostalgic for the days when he was a tiny little thing who smelled amazing and never ran away from me in the parking lot of Target. Then I quickly remember what it was like breastfeeding or staying up all night or cleaning feces off his neck and I am quickly ripped out of the land of newborn nostalgia and firmly back on earth where the worst of our problems consist of the DVR always missing the last two minutes of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” no matter how many times I try to record it from Sprout.

Besides I may be a reproductive underachiever but there are plenty of things at which I totally overachieve! Here is a bulleted list of those things in no particular order:

  • examining my pores in the mirror for hours at a time (okay, half hours at a time, but still)
  • anxiety
  • turning anxiety into chin acne
  • binge watching “Daredevil” on Neflix (and can I just say I’m on episode 10 already and he still doesn’t have a goddamn costume! WTF)
  • oral (full stop) hygiene
  • finding spare change in the car seats while waiting in line at the drive-through for a Blizzard
  • eating an entire pound of grapes in one sitting
  • WINE!
  • sleeping in until 10 o’clock
  • eyeliner
  • plucking my chin hairs
  • angrily screaming “SUCK MY DICK!” at street harassers
  • makeup in general
  • thrift store shopping
  • cussing people out while driving
  • Simpson’s trivia
  • being continually blown away by the size of my son’s poop
  • Boggle
  • neuroses
  • remembering all the names of the characters from the “Transformers” cartoons
  • “Big Lebowski” quotes
  • moping
  • always having a corkscrew
  • laughing at my own jokes
  • stick shift (also not a dirty metaphor)
  • getting kicked in the tits while trying to put shoes on a shrieking four year old
  • scalloped potatoes (I seriously make awesome scalloped potatoes)
  • sarcasm
  • inevitably being that person in the crowded bar who is saying something embarrassing or wildly inappropriate when the music suddenly dies down
  • forgetting to put tampons in my purse
  • scheme hatchery
  • “forgetting” to pay for the items I put on the bottom of the cart (and this is just a karmic reach-around to which I am not looking forward)
  • whiskey
  • insomnia
  • always picking the line at the grocery store that will take the longest no matter how few people are in front of you.
  • reciting the plots of all the episodes of “Ultimate Spiderman” when called upon to explain what the fuck my son is talking about and why he is trying to lock you into some sort of mental combat wherein he is the “Grandmaster” and you are the “Collector” and you each have to pick a team of heroes or villains to battle for the fate of New York City,  and how you should ALWAYS pick Kraven the Hunter because Kraven the Hunter is tits, but I mean, c’mon people, this is day one shit.

I could go on, but I don’t want to toot my own horn. But you see, there are plenty of things I do well, in addition to making fabulous, if not a little free with the nudity, babies! These are the things I have to tell myself in order to sleep at night when wading through the long list of all my inadequacies…also, whiskey helps a lot with that too.

P.S. Yes, I am perfectly aware that there are people with tons of kids who are NOT actually religious fanatics….as I had to point out to a friend of mine who busted my balls the first time this was published. But if I never blew anything out of proportion, never made broad, sweeping generalizations, and avoided hyperbole and sarcasm at all times, this probably wouldn’t be a very fun blog to read, now would it? So you can refrain from emailing me to tell me about all the perfectly normal atheists you know who just happen to have 7 kids because I already know that this is a thing that happens in real life, thank you. XOXO

BUNNIES!!!!!

OH MY GOD, y’all! I just discovered that there are bunnies living on the grounds of the office complex which houses the newspaper where I work. I literally just spent like 27 minutes staring out the the window of the lunch room when I should have been working, just watching a bunny eating some grass. I mean, you’d think that I would have gotten bored after that long but my tolerance for watching bunnies do bunny things is shockingly high. On that same note you might think that the bunny would have gotten bored of eating grass while being ogled through a window by a crazy woman but, in his defense, he wasn’t eating the whole time, and also, I don’t think he saw me. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t one of those voyeuristic rabbits that “likes it when you watch”, although I have no way of confirming that. We did not share any significant eye contact, while he munched on grass and silently told me, with his smoldering bunny gaze, that it was totally cool if I wanted to keep watching him, I feel like that might have made things weird between the bunny and I. But yeah, as high as my tolerance for staring at bunnies is, his tolerance for eating grass and occasionally hopping about seemed to be about that same. In that, there was no awkwardness with vaguely sexual undertones between the bunny and I. I hope we can visit again soon.

XOXO

“Wait, I’m Confused…”

or the accidental mantra of young women in the workplace

I don’t make it a secret that the job that I have now is the first “real job” I have ever had. Before now I had never worked in an office before and there are some things I have noticed that are….different. I work in a creative profession and in an office that is largely made up of women, albeit women who are, for the most part, quite a bit younger than I am. And I have to say, I am beginning to notice something. One phrase in particular that these young ladies are very comfortable with, a phrase that, when I hear it, grates on my nerves: “Wait…I’m confused?” You will notice that phrase has a question mark at the end of it as it is typically delivered as such, rising up, in tone at the end to drive home the point of the deliverer’s confusion.

These are smart, professional, capable young women. Why do they DO THIS? Is it a hold-over from their college days when the only way to get their sexist, male professors to pay attention to them was to play at being the overwhelmed ingenue? If so, it’s time to drop the act…if for no other reason than it is making my physically ill! Also, can we all just agree that the imagined scenario I just presented is an actual thing that happens every day in this country in the twenty-first goddamn century and if we are not all working toward a better tomorrow for young women we should probably just be taken out back behind the chemical sheds and shot? Good! Great! Grand! Wonderful! NO YELLING ON THE BUS!!!!

I’ll allow that in our particular line of work we are often presented with a lot of information, sometimes from various sources with varying ideas about what the end results should be and it can be….confusing. But here’s what I propose. Instead of standing around throwing our tiny woman hands up and declaring how utterly baffled we are, how about we demand clarification, in no uncertain terms. When someone sends me a folder full of what vaguely resembles a pile of loose dog shit and expects me to make magic out of it they will undoubtedly be hearing from me in a matter of minutes. I will demand that they (whomever THEY might be) do a better job of explaining their needs and their requirements. What I will not do is passively declare that I am “confused” and then wait for someone else to ask the hard questions.

I believe that being able to admit or speak aloud when you don’t understand something is an incredibly valuable way to learn but the thing about the “Wait…I’m confused” that I hear so often is that it is presented without follow-up questions. It is presented as a passive bowing out and not an active attempt to gain a more information and a more firm grasp of the situation. Ladies, I beg you to use your confusion to gain more knowledge! Don’t let it stop you in your tracks! Plow forward and let your ignorance lead you to enlightenment. If you are not finishing that thought then you are going to be just as confused the next time you are presented with the same situation. And wouldn’t you rather not be confused? Wouldn’t you rather be the go-to gal? The person who everyone else can count on to know your shit and do your job? I know I would.

I’m not really asking a lot. I am just asking that when we are presented with a confusing situation we should use that moment to learn, the gain the skills and knowledge so that we encounter fewer confusing moments in the future. That’s all. Just ask questions.

The other day two girls in my office, both of whom, while much younger than I, collectively have been doing this job professionally for significantly longer than I have, were hemming and hawing over a problem, just on the other side of my cube fortress, that had both of them declaring their confusing; Girl #1 “I don’t know, I’m confused…” she trailed off. Girl #2 “So confusing…..”. Finally I could not take it anymore. I thought briefly about whether or not I had ever heard one of the men in our office say these words and when I was absolutely positive that, not only, had that never EVER happened, it probably never would happen! I got up, poked my head over the fortress wall and said, “What’s up ladies?”

They presented me with their quandary, for which I had already come up with a solution because I had been sitting there eavesdropping for the last three minutes because I am an asshole and a busybody. I provided them the solution and then suggested that if that happens again they should immediately address it with the (name the person above the person who was handling that project because talking to people’s bosses usually gets their attention…and their head out of their ass). They agreed with me about the course of action which they totally both could have come up with on their own, and might have but for their default confusion mode.

I guess what I am trying to say is that there is no need to be confused…not for longer than 20 seconds or so. Just ask questions, acquire information, gain knowledge, kick ass, grow, learn, kick more ass, become a samurai, kick even more ass still and basically rule the goddamn world!!! Because there is absolutely no reason that you can’t!!!! XOXO

Here is your Owl, Now Please Oversee my Nuptials

As some of you may know (if you’re my mom perhaps) I am planning a wedding. It is a small wedding but a wedding nonetheless. Did I mention that it’s my wedding? It is. Someone has not only actually agreed to marry me but it was HIS idea. I mean, he totally asked and everything! Weird, right? In any case, he has found that my special brand of being annoying is the kind of annoying he wants to tolerate for the rest of forever so a wedding must be planned to celebrate our mutual tolerance of one another’s annoying-ness ….and the fact that we love each other….and to make my mother happy.

As a graphic designer (which I still think is kind of a silly thing to call myself…we should go with “as a person who likes to make pretty pictures and sometimes silly pictures of otters and barbarian teddy bears and extra fancy hamsters”) I was really excited about making the invitations. And I got them back last Thursday and I was super pleased. The next step was collecting everyone’s addresses.

I messaged my friend Jon to get his address and the conversation that we had about how OUT OF FUCKING HAND wedding invitations had gotten was kind of funny:

Me:
Need your address…for I plan to stalk you….or send you a wedding invitation. One of those.
Jon:
B) I thought you already got married. Life is gonna suck if I start having FB hallucinations.
A) was supposed to be “congratulations” but, thumbs.
Congratulations!
Me:
Thanks, no…I got engaged about a year ago. Marrying comes next.
Jon:
C?D?) [ADDRESS REDACTED]
Conformist.
Me:
I deserve that.
Jon:
Is there a date what to save?
Me:
June 25th, I chose not to send save the date cards and am just sending you an invitation. Because I did not need one MORE thing to do.
Jon:
Also, it is the goddam 21st century. You can use the internets.
People may call it lazy, I call it saving the fucking planet.
Me:
There are certain protocols that I (read my mother) will not see shirked.
Jon:
A friend got married a few years ago & there was a fucking sheaf of paper & also glossy photos involved. It hurt me so to have to recycle all that.
Understood.
Me:
Yeah, people’s invitations are totally out of control. They send them in boxes and shit! Some have live butterflies in them that fly out when you open the aforementioned box.
Frankly, I wouldn’t really want a box of mostly dead butterflies and their poop. 
Jon:
Oh! And ribbons!
Me:
SO MANY FUCKING RIBBONS!!!!
Jon:
You should tie ribbons on the necks of condors & ship them with every invite.
Do not forget to punch holes in the lids.
Me:
So you would go with condors? Because I had planned on doves but I see your point….
Jon:
Compromise= barn owls. The recipients can use them for pest control.
Me:
BRILLIANT!
Jon:
We have solved wedding invites!
Me:
And controlling pests!
Jon:
The world really should thank us by sending money.
Me:
I wouldn’t say “no” to a Nobel prize.
Jon:
You have my permission to blog about this. I will be your silent (read 50%) partner.
Me:
Noted.
Jon:
This was probably the most productive meeting I never attended.
Me:
You’re welcome!
I, on the other hand, opted out of all that craziness. There’s enough outlandish shit on which we are expected to spend money where weddings are concerned. I was not about to spring for the postage to send people an invitation that had to be housed in a goddamn box that plays music upon their opening it and also contains a legit, goddamn bird’s nest!
wedding invitation craziness

Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t like anyone enough to want to make them feel this important. 

My invitations were a very simple, 5 by 7, single-sided card with instructions to RSVP via email or phone call. I was determined NOT to have to pay more than 47 cents per envelope to send those bitches. Here’s a copy because I think they’re pretty!

invitation_redacted

I left out the address, because I know the types of folks who hang around here and I don’t want you miscreants crashing my wedding. Also, I try to avoid being embroiled in assassination plots whenever possible. And yes, I am JUST DELUSIONAL ENOUGH to consider my murder, which will probably be the result of the ill-timed use of sarcasm on my part, an assassination! I am not going to say that I have never wondered exactly how important one must be in order for their murder to be considered an assassination but I feel that I, somehow or another, pass the muster. Also, refer back to previous statements about my delusions.

I did, however, include the registry information, just in case anyone is feeling generous, or drunk or both of those things.

Also, in case you’re drunk, and/or had no idea just how out of fucking hand wedding invitations had gotten, here are some pics of some ridiculous shit! Enjoy!

IT IS A GODDAMN BOARD GAME!!!! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!

It’s a Viewmaster, and the little slide wheel has pictures of the happy couple! If you legitimately think anyone cares about you enough to think that you and your fiancee deserve this much fanfare your delusions of grandeur are like, Kanye epic.

are you fucking kidding me

What the shit is this? I bet this cost more than my wedding dress!

not sure whats going on here but it looks foreboding

Does anyone else think that including a tiny noose in your wedding invitation is just a little too dark…even if it is in cyrillic?

pastel-boxed-wedding-invitation-set__full

I am so done with making people work for the information you’ve included in your wedding invitation. If I have to use a key or a decoder ring or a map to figure out to what I have been invited, you can bet your ass that I will expend no further energy on your ridiculousness and will probably boycott your wedding on general principle.

awesome-3d-decoder-wedding-invitation__full

I forgot to include special glasses in the list of shit that I want no part of. Consider them added now.

rustic-wood-wedding-save-the-date-in-mossy-box__full

Go fuck yourself.

XOXO!!!!

 

Otter Von Bismark!

The other night, well after my son had been put to bed but long before we stopped hearing the sounds of what I can only assume are the 17 pygmy hippos he lets climb into his bedroom window shortly after I bid him goodnight and shut his bedroom door we heard the sounds of Bo’s door opening and the thunderous rush of his footfalls as he bounded down the stairs to our room. When he arrived he was holding a heretofore anonymous stuffed otter and wanted to tell us very much that he had thought of the perfect name for the otter! At which point Josh popped up and said “Is it Otter Von Bismark?” which is basically the MOST PERFECT NAME FOR AN OTTER EVER!!! Sadly is was not Otter Von Bismark and honestly we kind of let the steam out of Bo’s enthusiasm with our uncontrollable tittering.

Bo had decided to name the Otter Sammy…which is a perfectly fine name for an otter. It’s just not Otter Von Bismark. I fully plan on purchasing a taxidermy Otter now, just so I can dress him up in a little white Franco-Prussian military uniform and a gold sash. I will even get Otter Von Bismark his own miniature Pickelhaube! Until then, I made a picture of Otter Von Bismark.

otter von bismark 3

And Here’a another one. Although the World War One era plane is an anachronism as Bismark died in 1898…but he was also not really an otter.

otter von bismark

I think his scarf makes him look regal! Totally fucking majestic! XOXO

Just Filling the void

This is not a real post.

I totally keep thinking of awesome things about which to write but I am usually in the shower or driving or lying in bed when I should be sleeping and nowhere near a computer when these nuggets of brilliance seep up to the surface. I think I need to get one of those chalk boards that I where around my neck like Anthony Hopkins in “Legends of the Fall” after he has his stroke and can’t talk anymore.

hopkins

Dude! He also has a pipe on a string around his neck. This idea could revolutionize EVERYTHING!

 

Except for that brings up the whole issue of having to learn to write upside down and frankly, I am totally done learning new skills.

happy hopkins

If you did not cry during this scene you obviously have no soul….or no tear ducts which is a totally real thing!

Or, and I am just spit-balling here, in lieu of the bulky chest chalkboard (chestboard?) I could carry around a note pad. OOOOH! Or one of those little hand-held tape recorders (I know all the millennials are just shaking their heads at me and saying to themselves in voices full of thinly veiled pity and condescension “Yeah, there’s an app for that on your smart phone.” And to them I say “You are talking to a woman with a typewriter collection who grew up idolizing Hunter S. Thompson and for whom outmoded and anachronistic means of communication will never be anything short of wildly romantic and awesome…so suck it!”). C’mon, you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about having one of those pocket tape recorders wherein you store all your sagacious, enlightened, little tidbits of brilliance that pop into your head from time to time. I think the bummer part of that whole process would be sitting down at your desk at the end of the day or, even worse, the end of the week, to record all your noteworthy opining and unprecedented epiphanies and all you have is a note to buy more grapefruits and then two hours of continuous recording of the noises that occur inside your purse. GENIUS! Except for not really.

You know what WOULD be genius? If you had the idea to combine a few great things into one AMAZING like hash browns and masturbation and watching  Daredevil into….I don’t know, but those the the “few great things” I came up with on the fly and, frankly, that seems like a pretty damn solid list to me.

I totally forgot where I was going with this, but I think that kind of drives the point home about my needing a chestboard or at the very least a tape recorder and that’s good enough for me. I think I will quit while I am ahead-ish or at least ish.

XOXO

A Little Thing

My Dad’s memorial/wake/celebration of life thingy was yesterday (I started this on Sunday so “yesterday” was actually Saturday) and I wrote a little speech thing to kind of get the sharing ball rolling:

“I write a humor blog and when I have had the occasion, in the past, to do live readings I usually start off by talking about one of my greatest inspirations; my Dad. Those of you that knew him well, knew him peripherally or just stood in the same room with him for any length of time whatsoever, knew that Scott was rude, crude, crass, foul, vulgar, uncouth, tactless, classless, tasteless, coarse, obscene, profane, blue, purple and perhaps even off-color. Scott wove cussing into every day discourse with the stealth of a ninja and the precision of a surgeon. He loved dirty jokes. In fact when I was 6 he taught me a joke, the meaning of which I was totally unable to grasp until I was a little bit older but that did not stop me from sharing it with everyone at the family reunion that Summer. Here it is; What do a 747 and a peroxide blonde have in common? They both have a black box (pauses for laughter). At 6 years old I genuinely thought I understood this joke in that I believed that the black box that the bleach blonde had, referred to the box in which her hair dye came from the store…turns out I was wrong about that. 

The story I usually tell people about Dad is so inappropriate that I almost don’t want to share it today….almost. [BOAT STORY]
(This was actually copied directly from my notes wherein I did not write out the boat story. And no, I will not write out the boat story. I tell it at the beginning of nearly every live reading I have ever done, so chances are a lot of you have heard it. It would also lose something in print because if you cannot hear it in Scott’s voice [which, of course, at this point is impossible] you should at least hear it told with my impression of Scott. It would be no good in print…and also I don’t want anymore hate mail this week. Long story still pretty long, if you want to hear the boat story you have to come see me read…or just bump into me in line at the grocery store; I’ll totally tell it to you there)
My Dad taught me that it was better to laugh first, and last and every occasion in between. I am deeply blessed to have his wonderful sense of humor as well as his high tolerance for alcohol, his impossibly Scandinavian whiteness, his love for having fun, being outside, setting things on fire, camping, fishing, star-gazing, rivers, beaches, animals, loud music, laughter, dancing (not well, but dancing nonetheless), drinking, eating, and bullshitting. I think one of things I admired most about Scott was that he could make friends with anyone, and often did, as we can very well see looking around here today. Thank you all so much for coming, and I hope we can all share some wonderful memories and celebrate a man for whom we all cared very deeply and who cared very deeply for all of us. 
Sharing Scott’s love with all of you has served only to grow it, not incrementally but exponentially. Scott always had room for one more, at his table, in his home, in his heart whether you were human, canine, feline or my old roommate Rob’s rabbit that he didn’t want anymore, Scott would welcome you. And for those who would say that his passing so early on in life is a tragedy that could have been prevented; prevented with prudence or moderation to them I would say that there are those of us who would prefer to live our OWN life as opposed to a LONG life by someone else’s rules. Thank you!”
It was an awesome day! A difficult, nerve-wracking, heart-wrenching, confusing, sorrowful, unforgettable, awesome day and I really, really, really appreciate everyone who came out to show their love for Scotty. Everyone who laughed and cried and drank and shared, you made my day and I am sure a lot of others’ day as well. A few “thank yous” and “shouts out” to people who went above and beyond the make the day not only bearable but actually pretty darn okay:
I wanted to thank Skyler Cesarone for the beer, albeit Scott would never have touched an IPA I was very grateful, as I am sure most attendees were, that everyone could come together and raise a glass in Scott’s honor. Thank you so very much! Also, it was great catching up!
Sharon Lambert, I know you’ll never read this which is why I feel free to say that while I am fully aware that your eagerness to host my Father’s wake was not entirely egalitarian I nonetheless thank you so much for your hospitality, your reaching out to make the day possible and above all, your friendship with my Father which I know he valued a great deal. Also, I will be by later on tonight to pick up my Mom’s coat. See you then!
Those Pedersen Women, all of whom have married names now, and all of whom are my Sisters-in-law and for that I count myself amongst the luckiest gals alive. Thank you all for seeing that glazed look of confusion and uselessness in my eyes and knowing that it was your time to shine. When I could not handle it all three of you knew exactly when and how to take charge. You are a blessing to me and to everyone who knows you, of that I am sure!!!
Thank you to everyone who stepped up to share a story! I am sorry if there were any that I missed while I was out back sobbing in the horseshoe pit.
I know that just because we had a memorial does not mean that memorializing or remembering is over. It does help me, in the broader scope of things, to start to move on if such a thing can be done, but I will be celebrating Scott’s life every day for the rest of mine! I love you, Daddy! I miss you more than I can aptly express and I just hope that you are comfortable and happy and proud, wherever you are! XOXO

These ARE My Good Pants

OMGOMGOMG! I super hate people so much! But, if I’m being honest it’s my fault, not theirs. I should know better than to hang out in places where I will encounter the continually bewildering stupidity of humans. This is why I avoid comment sections on the the internet, Insane Clown Posse concerts, the post office or anywhere else that the rules are not universally known because no one has actually given enough of a shit to lay them out so that people can STOP looking so fucking stupid. But, sometimes you have to mail a package, sometimes you accidentally get black-out drunk and wake up in New Jersey with a bunch of Juggalos, and sometimes, not always, but sometimes you accidentally scroll too far down the page and your eyes land on the comment section of a blog you were reading….AND IT IS A GODDAMN TRAVESTY!

So, (drink) I was reading a post by brilliant blogger, Insane in the Mom Brain. I would totally bang her mind if that were a thing we could do outside of the Matrix. But it would kind of just be like I were masturbating because I am convinced we share a brain. Anyhoo, it was a post from a few years back about how it’s hard being a Mom (duh!) and sometimes it’s REALLY hard to wear pants (double duh! And how badly do I wish I had written that bit about the “low unicorn”?). When I was done reading the post and done changing my pants because I had peed them from laughing too hard (one of the many unfortunate side effects of motherhood) I scrolled down to see if there was a link to her bio and that’s when I saw them….the comments. They were just sitting there, looking all innocent but then (why, god, why?) I started to skim a few of them and for the most part they were all positive, sympathetic, and well-worded (which is highly unusual for the internet) but, of course, the one that stuck in my craw was one that said “You need to get organized and delegate” and then went on to suggest that Patti enslave her barely school-age children. Okay, it’s possible that I am exaggerating. But I do have a totally solid point to make, not only about this commenter but the ridiculous point he or she was trying to make which I will lay out in this bulleted list!

  • Read the room! This is obviously a humor blog! I would suspect that in many cases, on Patti’s blog, as well as my own, hyperbole is employed in order to get laughs. We are not idiots; we know that if we don’t want our kids in the bathroom we can just lock the door, unless we can’t because we had to take the locks off because our 4 year old kept locking himself in there and emptying the all the shampoo bottles into the toilet and then flushing it causing a gigantic tower of suds to rise out of the toilet like a fluffy, white fourth of July snake. But it’s a lot funnier to talk about how my son comes into the bathroom and says creepy things to me like “I want to watch you pee….but I am going to pretend your vagina is a penis” than to say “My son liked to follow me into the bathroom so I started to lock the door behind me and now he can’t do that anymore.” You see the difference?
  • No, not everyone can “get organized” (just like not everyone, namely you, commenter, can grasp the proper use of grammar and implementation of sentence structure)! I love it when people make it seem like everyone should be as equally capable in all things as everyone else. Telling someone like me, for instance, to “just get organized” would be tantamount to telling someone like Mozart to “just go rebuild that diesel engine”. Just because a person is an intelligent human who appears capable in many facets of life does not mean that they possess the talent or inclination towards any and ALL facets of life. I think telling some people to “just get organized” is just as feasible as walking up to another person and saying “just paint me a stunning landscape in watercolors” or “just make me some seared duck breast with a nice shallot and Gran Marnier sauce” or “just write me a symphony” or “just design me some software” or “just sew me a quilt” or “just knit me a sweater” but you get the idea. “Getting organized” is just not as easy for some as it is for others. In the meantime I will paint you a landscape and sear you a duck breast and design your new tattoo and sing you a song and and bake you delicious cookies but you can bet your ass my house will probably be a wreck while I do those things. Because while some things come very naturally to me, others do not.
  • “You have to delegate”. I understand that this person was assuming that Patti is married with a perfectly capable husband who can help out with things like laundry and fixing the locks on the bathroom door. But I am here to remind the commenter that not everyone has the luxury (I stand by that term) of living in a two-parent household. I am a single Mother. While I have a very eager and loving partner whom I adore and my son adores he is not the Father of my child. There are certain things, as a parent, you would just never ask of someone who is not the parent of your child and certainly things you would just never ask of any non-parent. That’s just basic human decency but we’re getting off track because I am aware that I am the outlier according to a person who assumes all households are made up of two equally involved and invested adults and no one ever decides that they just don’t want to be a parent anymore because heroin suddenly became MUCH more interesting than their 3 year old son….Oh shit! So that just slipped out….
  • “If your child is old enough to go to school they can do their own (and your) laundry.”
    BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this person for real? Do they even have kids? Have they ever met a kid? I totally get that back in the olden days as soon as a child could walk it was sent out to the barn to start milking the cows. I fully support this ideology and, trust me, if I had cattle I would be all over that shit. But it is an ideology and that is to say that it is not always based in or supported by facts or reality. Back in the olden days, when three year olds were milking cows, parents didn’t go to work. You think they dropped their kid off at Olden Days Prairie Daycare where their kids were taught how to churn butter and grind wheat and polish saddle leather? No, they were not. They grew up watching their parents do those things everyday because home WAS work. Nowadays we run back and forth, we commute, we have jobs away from our homes and our children and we are usually doing our laundry after those children are in bed, so chances are they have not watched us load the washing machine every day of their life since birth. I am all for kids helping out around the house. Shit, if mine doesn’t start learning how to vacuum sometime soon I am probably just gonna leave him on the neighbor’s doorstep in the middle of night and cross my fingers that he cannot find his way back home and/or is cute enough that they decide to keep him. At least until they realize he doesn’t do windows and then they will bring him back because they totally know it was me who left him there in the first place because even though I was wearing a hat their security cameras clearly caught someone on tape wearing a hot pink hoodie that read “I tried to be good but there were so many other options!” across the back, leaving a five year old on their doorstep and yes, I am aware of the felicitous nature of the hoodie’s slogan and how it relates to my deeds. Also, the previous statements were an example of comedic hyperbole. I don’t actually plan on abandoning my son on the neighbor’s doorstep, at least not today, while it’s still light out, but mark my words, little man, DON’T FUCKING TEST ME!
  • Not all kids who “go to school” are old enough to go to school. I have been taking my son to “school” in one form or another for nearly two years but he is still not old enough to go to kindergarten. Just because a mom says she’s “taking the kids to school” doesn’t necessarily mean that those children in question are old enough to shear sheep or do your taxes. I probably would not trust my own son with a pair of industrial grooming shears or my W-2 for at least another year or so.

It would be awesome if people thought before they opened their big, stupid, mouths but that’s sort of like asking the magic genie of the lamp to grant you more wishes; it just ain’t gonna happen no matter how hard rub or how many curses you scream at the genie. People are always going to presume that THEY know what is best for everyone else whether they know anything about their situation or not because people are basically assholes. Just remember, though, the next time you feel compelled to criticize someone on their sloppy appearance or suggest to someone that they “just get organized”, they might just punch you in the neck and tell you to go eat a dick in your goddamn Lulu Lemon yoga pants and you will, at that point, totally deserve it. XOXO

Also, I am just gonna leave this here for anyone who wants to tell me (or anyone for that matter) what kind of clothes I should wear or how my desk, living room, car, bank account, or bedroom should or could look if I “just get organized”!