Oh Bloggess, You make me giggle so hard!

[AmmuJSE]

Her name is Juanita. Juanita Weasel. Unless you can think of something better.

FEBRUARY 13, 2012

in RANDOM CRAP

The other day a girl on twitter sent me a picture of a taxidermied weasel that reminded her of me.  Victor thought this was meant to be an insult but then I showed him the picture and he gave me a look like “HOLYSHITSNACKS, THAT TOTALLY REMINDS ME OF YOU.”  Or possibly “HOLYSHITSNACKS, WHY ARE YOU BUYING OLD TAXIDERMIED RODENTS?”

Those looks are remarkably similar.

Anyway, I called the place and I said, (in a very high-brow, professional way) “Yes, I’m calling about a weasel?” and then I bought an old, dead weasel over the phone like I was ordering a pizza.  Then I couldn’t stop giggling and Victor refused to speak to me for the rest of the day.

This weasel had already paid for itself.

Victor likes to pretend my bizarre posse of taxidermied friends isn’t awesome but even he was having a hard time keeping the awe out of his voice when Juanita arrived.

 

Juanita

She’s the first female taxidermied animal I’ve owned, and she stunned me with her diversity. She could look surprised, terrified, overjoyed, irritated and ready to attack depending on the angle and how you were feeling.  She was like a tiny Rorschach inkblot test.  Victor said she looked like she wanted to eat our faces off but personally I thought she just looked so damned happy to see us.  I told Victor that I thought our feelings about this weasel said a lot about our personalities and he agreed although probably not for the same reason.  One thing was certain, this weasel had range.  

Victor:  Where in the hell are you even going to put it?  We’ve run out of room for your weird antique taxidermy.  This is something I never thought I’d have to say to my wife.

me:  Me either because it’s obvious where she fits.  Juanita will go in the art niche.  IT’S PERFECT.

Victor:  You don’t put a stuffed weasel in an art niche.

me:  Well not alone, obviously.  She’d be dwarfed in that large space.  You put a stuffed weasel and an antique alligator dressed as a pirate in an art niche.  It’s a diorama.  IT PRACTICALLY SCREAMS ”ART NICHE”.

Then Victor walked off because apparently he doesn’t understand how art works.

 

They're like Barbies, only grosser and with more realistic figures.

My assumption is that Victor didn’t appreciate my weasel/alligator diorama because he assumed that the weasel was a boy and didn’t understand that the alligator is a transvestite.  I understood his confusion and so I attempted to make things more obvious for him, but when he asked if I would help him button his sleeves I said, “I can’t right now.  I’m trying to put a dress on this weasel” and then he just walked right out of the house.  Which is unhelpful and also sloppy because no one outside can button those sleeves for you either, Victor.  Plus, he missed out at the first look at Juanita in her snappy new frock:

Anyway, the point is that I now have a new friend and that she’s very glad to meet you.  She’s also starting her own line of greeting cards (see  below) since Victor seems to think that antique taxidermy is an economic drain to us, rather than a boost to the American economy.  I pointed out that I’d already sold $20 worth of Juanita Weasel cards and then he pointed out that I was the one who bought them but I think he’s missing the point and is being every unpatriotic.  Also, I can’t defend myself properly because Economics wasn’t on my degree plan.  I blame my college for making me take mandatory bowling but not offering classes on weasel economics.  Thanks a lot, State College.

PS.  Victor just came back in and I showed him Juanita and explained that she’s so me that I can’t even stand it.  Victor says he can’t stand it either but I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.

PPS.  I can’t even stop with these:

Sometimes a joyous game of freeze-tag and a scream of terror can look very similar.

 

Happy Holidays. Fuck with me and I will cut you.

 

We're laughing with you. Not at you. Unless you aren't laughing.

 

LITERALLY.

 

Want to support the American (and Lawson) economy and encourage stimulus and more taxidermic purchases?  Then check out these fine Juanita products : 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 

UPDATED:  As requested, a Juanita Weasel souffle apron. 

[jehosoba84]

 OMG, lol. the blogess strikes again. I still cant get over the beyonce story. I go back and read it every time I need a good laugh.

[AmmuJSE]

for those of you who do not know Beyonce!!!!

And that’s why you should learn to pick your battles.

JUNE 21, 2011

in RANDOM CRAP

This morning I had a fight with Victor about towels. I can’t tell you the details because it wasn’t interesting enough to document at the time, but it was basically me telling Victor I needed to buy new bath towels, and Victor insisting that I NOT buy towels because I “just bought new towels“. Then I pointed out that the last towels I’d bought were hot pink beach towels, and he was all “EXACTLY” and then I hit my head against the wall for an hour.

Then Laura came to pick me up so we could go to the discount outlet together, and as Victor gave me a kiss goodbye he lovingly whispered, “You are not allowed to bring any more goddam towels in this house or I will strangle you“.   And that was exactly what I was still echoing through my head an hour later, when Laura and I stopped our shopping carts and stared up in confused, silent awe at a display of enormous metal chickens, made from rusted oil drums.

Laura:  I think you need one of those.

me:  You’re joking, but they’re kind of horrifically awesome.

Laura: I’m not joking. We need to buy you one.

me:  The 5-foot tall one was $300, marked down to $100.  That’s like, $200 worth of chicken for free.

Laura:  You’d be crazy not to buy that.  I mean, look at it. IT’S FULL OF WHIMSY.

me:  Victor’d be pissed.

Laura:  Yup.

me:  But on the plus side?  It’s not towels.

Laura:  Yup.

me:  We will name him Henry.  Or Charlie.  Or O’Shannesy.

Laura:  Or Beyoncé.

me:  Or Beyoncé. Yes.  And when our friends are sad we can leave him at their front door to cheer them up.

Laura:  Exactly. It’ll be like, “You thought *yesterday* was bad?  Well, now you have a enormous metal chicken to deal with.  Perspective.  Now you have it.”

Then we flagged down a salesman, and we were all “What can you tell us about these chickens?”, as if we were in an art gallery, and not in a store that specializes in last years’ bathmats.  He didn’t know anything about them, but he said that they’d only only sold one and it was to a really drunk lady, and then Laura and I were all “SOLD.  All this chicken belongs to us now.”

Insert-inappropriate-cock-joke-here.

So he loaded it onto a trolley, but Beyoncé was surprisingly unstable, and the giant 5 foot metal chicken crashed over onto the floor.  And Laura and I were all “CHICKEN DOWN!  CLEAN-UP IN AISLE 3″ but he didn’t laugh.  Then the manager came to see what was causing all the commotion, and that’s when he found the very-conservative salesman unhappily struggling to right an enthusiastically pointy chicken which was almost as tall as he was.  The salesman was having a hard time, and he told everyone to stand back “because this chicken will cut you“, and at first I thought he meant it as a threat, like “That chicken has a shiv”, but turns out he just meant that all the chickens’ ends were sharp and rusty.  It was awesome, and Laura and I agreed that even if we got tetanus, this chicken had already paid for himself even before we got it in her truck.

Then we got to my house and quietly snuck the chicken up to my front door, rang the doorbell, and hid around the corner.

Knock-knock, motherfucker.

Victor opened the door and looked at the chicken in stunned silence for about 3 seconds.  Then he sighed, closed the door and walked away.

Laura:  What the fuck?  That’s it?  That’s the only reaction we get?

me:  That’s it. He’s a hard man to rattle.

Victor was surprisingly pissed that I’d “wasted money” on an enormous chicken, because apparently he couldn’t appreciate the hysterical value of a 5 foot chicken ringing the doorbell.  Then I said, “Well, at least it’s not towels” and apparently that was the wrong thing to say because that’s when Victor screamed and stormed off, but I knew he was locked in his office because I could hear him punching things in there.  Then I yelled through his door, “It’s an anniversary gift for you, asshole.  Two whole weeks early.  15 YEARS IS BIG METAL CHICKENS.”

Then he yelled that he wanted it gone, but I couldn’t move it myself, so instead I said okay and went to watch tv.  Then when the UPS guy came I hid, but he was all “Dude.  Nice chicken” and Victor yelled, “IT IS NOT A NICE CHICKEN”.  Which was probably very confusing to the UPS guy, who was just trying to be polite, Victor. Victor seemed more disgruntled than usual, so I finally dragged the chicken into the backyard and wedged it into a clump of trees so that it could scare the snakes away.  Then I came in and Victor angrily pulled me into his office so that I could see that I’d stationed Beyoncé directly in front of his only window.  And I was all “Exactly. YOU’RE WELCOME.”  I told him that he could move Beyoncé if he wanted to, but he totally hasn’t.  Probably because of all of the giant rocks I piled on Beyonce’s feet to dissuade burglars.  Or possibly because Beyoncé is growing on him.  Still, I can’t help but think that we wouldn’t even be having this argument if Beyoncé was towels.  Honestly, this whole chicken is really a lesson in picking your battles more carefully.  Plus, he’s awesome and I can’t stop giggling every time I look at him.  Beyoncé, that is.

Best. 15th anniversary. ever.

UPDATED 2012: It’s been half a year and people still continue to laugh, scream indignantly and to ask questions, so here are a few follow-ups.  Victor and I are still (of course) happily married and after a few weeks he got over his giant rooster aversion.  Beyonce stares at him from outside his office window.  I eventually got new towels.  ”Knock-knock, motherfucker” is embroidered on all of them.  Victor was not impressed.  Beyonce-the-giant-metal-chicken now hasher own Facebook page with over 30,000 highly imaginative fans, and you can buy your own travel-sized Beyonce right here for under $20.  You’re welcome world.  Now please stop yelling at me.

[punky3175]

 That is fricking awesome.  And if stuffed animals didn't creep me out, I just might be tempted to start collecting them so I could do something similar. :D

ETA: Just read about Beyonce - LOVE IT! It almost brought me to tears because I'm picturing me doing this to my kids (since I don't have an SO. :D)  *runs off to plot evilly*

[AmmuJSE]

she has a bunch, she got a duck a couple weeks ago. Let me find it. 

Quoting punky3175:

 That is fricking awesome.  And if stuffed animals didn't creep me out, I just might be tempted to start collecting them so I could do something similar. :D

[AmmuJSE]

UPDATED: The post where I make it up to you. And then make things worse. And then apologize again.

JANUARY 23, 2012

in EVERYTHING IN THE COUNTRY WANTS TO KILL YOU,GIANT METAL CHICKENS ARE EVERYWHERE,MIXING MEDICATIONS,NO ONE THINKS THIS IS FUNNY BUT ME,RANDOM CRAP

Yesterday I went out to the nearby market because we live in rural Texas so we go to all the various country fairs and trade days because that’s what we have instead of a mall.  They are awesome and terrible and I never come home without part of an iron lung, or a 60 year old book about “why naked midgets are awesome”.  Yesterday at one stop I found 100′s of doll heads on spikes. It stretched on for a half-acre.  Also, the doll torsos and limbs were in various buckets around, so it was sort of like Build-a-Bear except that you end up with a misproportioned, evil doll that will probably eat your nose off while you sleep.

Even the demon on the right was having a panic attack:

It's creepy, but sometimes it's just nice to be reminded that there are people weirder than me in the world.

But it wasn’t *all* doll heads on spikes.

Because some were on chains.  

Also, this isn’t even half of the heads-on-spikes and none of them were marked for sale.  It was like some sort of Stephen King art installation had accidentally fallen into the center of a market.  There wasn’t a vendor there but no one shoplifted from him.  Probably because you don’t want to fuck with someone who sticks baby heads on spikes.  And because practically no one wants to steal baby heads on spikes.  Both of these things are true.

I did find several other treasures though from other vendors. I found a children’s book of illustrated corpses, complete with color pictures and when I insisted I needed to have it Victor and I both screamed, “IT’S THREE DOLLARS”.

For different reasons though, apparently.

Then I bought a taxidermied duckling (that died of natural causes) and Victor was all “What the fuck are you going to do with a taxidermied duck?” and I was all “What wouldn’t I do with a taxidermied duck?”  It’s like he’s never even met me.

Then I explained that ducks wearing hats were impossible to turn down and he said that the duck didn’t have a hat and I explained that Martin Van Buren’s hat was invisible, but that I’d already bought it and it was already waiting at home in the dollhouse for him.  That’s how ready I was for Martin Van Buren.  And also I explained that his name was Martin Van Buren.  Then Hailey started begging Victor for Duckie Van Buren and Victor explained that we weren’t going to spend $20 on a fragile ancient duckling I’d probably break immediately and Hailey pointed out that if he got broken “we could fix him with duck tape”.  Then I melted from the cuteness and promised her a (probably taxidermied) pony, and Victor looked at us worriedly and wondered when Hailey had joined my strange alliance.  Then I explained that I would make Martin Van Buren into a vampire hunter and then Victor said he’d buy him if I just stopped talking.  EVERYONE WINS.

Especially Martin Van Buren, who looks like a damn bad-ass in his top-hat, holding a bloody spike he just used to impale a nonsexy vampire.

Proof:

He has a bloody spike under his wing. And a very self-satisfied but shell-shocked look on his face. It's like he was MADE for Vampire-hunting.

The really weird thing is that I already owned everything necessary for this scene. The only thing I was missing was a duck that looks good in a hat.

I showed the scene to Victor and he sighed and agreed that it was very frightening but (he pointed out) not for the reasons I’d intended.

Wow.  This post was meant to make it up to you for being MIA so much but now I think I owe you an apology for making you look at Vampire-hunting ducks and baby heads on spikes.  BUT!  There is one very important part I can’t miss.  Because when we first drove up to the market I screamed “HOLY SHITSNACKS, IT’S A FLOCK OF BEYONCES”.  Because it was.  And Victor glared at me while I haggled for a smallish sort of giant metal chicken who desperately wanted a home and he accused me of having some sort of a metal chicken hoarding problem.  But then I pointed out that I was buying this apartment sized metal chicken for you.  Yes, you.  Because I love you.  But I can’t afford to buy chickens all of you so instead I’m randomly selecting one of you to actually win it.  Granted, your spouse might hate it, but you can point out that at least it’s not towels, which has always worked for me.

I took two pictures, but Ferris Mewler managed to squirrel his way into them so you’ll have to ignore him.  Or use him for scale.

"What? You're taking a picture? Don't mind me. I'll just stand back here in case someone needs me."

Ferris Mewler: "These are my paws, you guys." We've all seen your paws, Ferris Mewler.

Anyway, as a very large thank you for not deserting me while I’ve been busy with book stuff I will randomly select one of you from the comments below to win the mini-Beyonce.  All you have to do is tell me what you would name him if he was yours.

The names “Beyonce” and “Martin Van Buren” are spoken for.

Obviously.

UPDATED:  Holy crap, you guys.  That’s a lot of people wanting chicken.  Also, thank you so much for distracting me from the fact that tonight I’m spending tonight in a hospital so they can see if I’m having seizures in my sleep because apparently I don’t have enough shit wrong with me.  (If they let me have my phone I will -of course - be live-tweeting the whole thing.)  And in appreciation for offering up such twisted names (so brilliant that I’m tempted to adopt an orphanage just to have kids to name) that I’ve convinced my editor to send me a couple of advance copies of my book to give out as well.  The advance copies are soft-cover and have typos and the pictures are low resolution, but you’ll be able to read my book 2 months before it’s available.  Or you can use it to fix a wobbly table.  Either way, really.

PS.  Seriously.  Thank you.  You have no idea how much I needed the laugh today.  I’ll pick the winners this week.

UPDATED X 2:  Holy crap.  That’s a lot of people wanting chicken.  Winners announced over here.

[AmmuJSE]

Her banana post is awesome too!

Listen to the bananas

AUGUST 1, 2011

in NO ONE THINKS THIS IS FUNNY BUT ME,RANDOM CRAP

I saw this life-hack about how you can lightly trace notes on banana skins with toothpicks and then the next day the notes will show up like magic.

The person writing the tip suggested writing sweet notes for your kids on their bananas.  I promptly went and traced notes on all of our bananas and then immediately forgot about it, until the next day when I heard Victor screaming about how the bananas were talking to him.

I acted like he was insane and like I couldn’t see any notes on the bananas, and asked if maybe he needed to go lay down and rest, but then he was all “I recognize your handwriting, dumb-ass.  Why are you writing threatening letters on the bananas?” and I was like “Because we were out of post-its?”  But then I finally admitted that I was just practicing, because I thought it would be funny to write paranoid demands on bananas at the grocery store, so that when people get them home they’ll be all “What the fuck?  Are these bananas talking to me?  WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”  Then Victor just shook his head and walked out of the room.  Probably because he couldn’t stand how awesome I am.

PS.  I suppose you could also write sweet, complimentary things on anonymous bananas, like “You’re so beautiful” and junk, but honestly I think having a banana hitting on me would be way creepier than one telling me to “Act natural.  You’ll be contacted soon.”  It’s probably just me.

PPS.  I can only think of about 6 things to write on stranger’s bananas so if you have any suggestions, please leave them.

[jehosoba84]

 wow, love the babana story. I hadn't read it before.

[AmmuJSE]

lol, carry a toothpick with you at all times & molest the bananas now :P 

Quoting jehosoba84:

 wow, love the babana story. I hadn't read it before.

[katy_kay08]

She  is my not so secret girl crush.  I would leave my husband for her.  He is okay with it because he would also drop me like a hot rock if he had a chance with her.  ;) 

[AdrianneHill]

Poor Juanita.