Over the weekend I visited bestie, who works at a nature center. Prior to my visit she said to me: “omfg, we’re cleaning out our basement and there is so much shitty taxidermy and also a BABY DEER IN OUR FREEZER WHO JUST LEAVES THAT THERE*?” To which I made Mr. Burns hands and replied “could you perhaps score me some of this taxidermy?” It didn’t take much convincing that yeah, her best friend wanted some questionably-preserved dead animals to dress up in scarves and hats and maybe tutus. That’s how I ended up driving 300 miles with a fox and a bobcat in my backseat! I hope we surprised people at rest stops.
We might give the bobcat to my dad for father’s day. We might buy it a monocle and cherish it until we move out of this apartment and one of us screams at the other “fuck this fucking bobcat I am not carrying anything else down these goddamn stairs leave it for the new people.”
While friend and I were having an in-depth conversation about what my newly acquired taxidermy should wear, how I get eyeshadows out of baggies, and how we could kindly ditch our menfolk (if you think running three convos in person at once is impressive you should see what we can do online) bestie blurts out “You’re like the next Jenny Lawson!”
To which I naively said “Who is that?”
As my best friend, she has paid me a lot of compliments over the years (just this past weekend she said I was pretty AND smart but we were wine tasting so she was obviously drunk and lying), but this is BY FAR the most flattering thing anyone has ever said about me and I once had a fourth grader say she wanted to grow up to be JUST LIKE ME**.
So for starters, I am not the next Jenny Lawson, no matter how much taxidermy I manage to acquire between now and the end of the basement cleaning, because Jenny Lawson is STILL HAPPENING and will continue to be so for a very long time.
Second, how in the hell did I not hear about this woman before? Get over to The Bloggess and read everything, right now.
Third, I can only dream of having a taxidermy collection as strong as hers, but if anyone knows where I can get me some costumed rodents I’ll take anything that isn’t a guinea pig (because I think that would traumatize Manbeast too much… he still hasn’t forgiven me for threatening to eat Svinka).
Fourth, I showed Manbeast the box full of cobra post and he was like “it is you. She is you and I am her husband.” But we have way too few cats/cobras/children/marriages/bobcat heads to be them. He’s gone shopping with me for tombstones and post-mortem photography before though, so you’d think he knew what he was getting himself into.
I had also not heard of Brooke Shadden before combing through a bazillion Bloggess posts. Holy shit. Where has she been all my life? If I ever manage to start publishing fictions, I am going to beg her to do my book covers. Also her galleries might be NSFW because there are some artistic nipples here and there. Use your best workplace judgement.
*She knows the answer to this. People like my parents, who have had a frozen angelfish, ribbon snake, and shrew(s) in their freezer for as long as I can remember because they like to yell at me for “language” when I open up the freezer, get hit in the face with one, and shriek “Jesus Christ!”
**That child didn’t know that I live off cheesy noodles and can’t pay my electric bill, so really she had no idea what she was saying.