Crooked Shit

I mean this literally, not that I’m getting hired to work in 2018’s administration at the White House

Clearly in my “inappropriate” category over at Etsy, I’ve added a poopy little offering to my side hustle!

Poop. And not just any poop but some real crooked shit.

Sometimes the poop is even dubious of just how crooked it is — or maybe it’s dubious about you?

Who wants a straight face, anyway?

Anyway. I use my time wisely.

Jody W. & Meankitty

Pet the Pretty!

A while back, I received the rights back for my first published novel, a fantasy romance called A Spell for Susannah. It took me this long to get ready to do something with them, but what a something it is! Check out this pretty!


The story is based on the 12 Dancing Princesses, and if I could have put the idea in my head onto paper, it would have been a lot like this. I mean, she’s dancing sort of! And it looks like there’s magic around her and stuff.

For the prequel, a stand-alone short story about Susannah’s parents, the talented artist worked with the same background so you can tell they are connected. Pretty X2.

Wintertide600If you’re a writer looking for a good cover artist, these were done by Amanda Matthews at AM Design Studio. She’s so good that these were PREMADES.

NOW I need to get that thing re-edited and reformatted! It’s on the list. Right after take Grandma to the eyedoctor, finish the kid’s Halloween costumes, get rid of whatever this germ in plaguing me and making me sound like a throat monster, finish my WiP for the Maelstrom series (IT’S SO CLOSE), find my winter clothes (I’M ACTUALLY COLD), and… I’m sure there was more shit, but I forgot. I blame the germ.

Jody W & Meankitty

Smart. Snarky. Seductive. And that’s just the books. *

Writerly Deep Thoughts: Corrupt Documents

A text conversation with DH:

Me: I need a smaller laptop so I can edit/write during the 40 minutes I spend in the pickup line at school. The Beast (current laptop) is too big. He doesn’t fit between me and the steering wheel.

DH: Try my netbook.

Me: It uses Open Office, not Word. Going between the two corrupts my documents and I don’t want my books corrupted by anything but the sexy sex.

DH: O.o.

Jody Wallace
Smart. Snarky. Seductive. And that’s just the books. *


Double Oops

Oops #1. I made my third cup of coffee today (I KNOW! SHUT UP!) with the Keurig and forgot to take my used orange spice teabag out of the cup. It was actually pretty good! It added a neat, subtle flavor to the coffee, so I drank it too fast and now I’m SO BUZZED HELLLLP MEEEEEE.

Oops #2. My mom found a long-standing, massive, chunky lake of cat barf behind the recliner in the kitchen. I swear one of the cats must have been sneaking back there and adding to it daily for about a week. I’ve never SEEN so much cat barf in one spot :/. Why do I like cats again??

funny-cat-pushing-things-off-table-fuck-this-animated-gif-picsJody W & Meankitty

Smart. Snarky. Seductive. And that’s just the books. *

PS I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Meankitty who did the barfing.

The Odor Strikes Back

Tragic news.

The $$ detail guy, despite spending 4 hours cleansing my mom’s car in an attempt to remove the stench of mousey death, failed at his appointed task. Don’t get me wrong — the car is spit shine clean inside. If our odiferous issue had been mere French fries…baby vomit…spilled beverages…years of life…I think this guy could have taken it down.

But he was not up to the carrion challenge.

At first, I thought he’d succeeded. The car smelled like plain old air. Normal! But then I turned on the a/c and the piquant combo of deceased, moldering rat and cheap man perfume blasted out of the vents again. I stumbled back, choking, crying, cursing, shaking my fist. No, wait. That was back during babies in diapers phase. What I did was slam the door and sigh deeply, in true Eeyorean fashion.

I am disappoint.

Next stop, a mechanic, to take the damned thing apart until he finds the dead bodies.

Also, because it is new release week, allow me to share this great interview I did with Veronica Scott about TRAITOR! No bad smells were mentioned.

Oliver is SHOCKED at how bad the car smells.
Oliver is SHOCKED at how bad the car smells.

Jody Wallace & Meankitty (who doesn’t give a crap about the car)

Smart. Snarky. Seductive. And that’s just the books. *

Honey, There’s a Corpse in the Car

Recently the Wallaces have changed our lives. We bought a new house so my mom and her 4 cats could join The House Of Meankitty. We’ll be traveling to Mom’s actual house frequently, but we’ll spend school weeks here.

Anyway, Mom’s house is in a rural area. Because she hasn’t been driving as much, her car kind of just sat in the driveway, providing a home for field mice, bugs and other critters. They lived…and died…in the perfectly nice car, which then developed a horrible odor that had to be smelled to be described.

We’ve been struggling to deal with the car odor for months. My brother found one dead mouse in a vent, but the odor remained. Now that we’re back in “the big house” due to school starting, we found a car detailing company to come to our house and save us from the smell.

So the car guy is here today trying to find and repeal the source of the horrible carrion odor in my mom’s vehicle. We’re all convinced there just HAVE to be more corpses than just the one, due to the smell. God, the smell! Right now, as I’m typing, I’m making a horrible face just thinking about it.

I had to drive Mom and one of the kids up to the big house in that car — about a 2 hour trip — and the smell worked its way into my pores and I took 3 showers and…

But I don’t want to relive that. The car guy hasn’t found any more corpses in the car. I’m shockingly sad about that. It would have made me feel more confident that the smell was going to disappear.

In other news, did you hear I released a new book yesterday? 🙂 It has a few corpses in it, too. Bad guy corpses.

Moreover, the particular worldbuilding in this science fiction series has established that when daemons (flying red bat monsters) are killed, they smell incredibly bad, which is how you know they’re actually dead. I now know they smell like dead mice shut in a hot car.

Here is a picture of a random cat to make this post prettier and less smelly.


Jody W. & Meankitty *

That Crafty Meankitty…


I opened an Etsy store, you guys, for things I hook, since I can’t hog them ALL to myself!

Meankitty helps me crochet, so I try to warn all shoppers that this is not a pet-free household. I hope that doesn’t put too many people off.


See what I mean?

The link is

No peens in the store yet, but I am eventually going to have a section for earrings, and a section for “Inappropriate Items” hehehe.

Jody Wallace & Meankitty
Author, Cat Person, Amigurumist of the Apocalypse *

I Won’t Lose It

**Ha! Originally published a couple years ago…but I wanted to bump it to the top, because funny.


Kid1 just “graduated” from a summer education program where they taught her to crochet. They also taught her about Australia, CSI and silly science, but the crochet class was what interested me. Obviously.

Anyway, the teacher provided all her students with a plastic crochet hook, probably a G size since that’s most common, to continue their yarn art on their own. I just had the following conversation with Kid1 regarding her yarn art.

Kid1: I want to crochet, Mom.
Me: Good deal! Have at it. Let me know if you want to learn a new stitch.
Kid1: I can’t because I don’t have a hook. I need a hook.
Me: You have a plastic hook. You showed it to me yesterday.
Kid1: I can’t find it, so I need one of yours.
Me: Hm. You lost your hook?
Kid1: I didn’t lose it, I just can’t find it. Can I get one of yours?
Me: No, you can’t have one of mine. (I only have one G size hook, and it’s my precious.)
Kid1: I don’t want to have it, I just want to borrow it.
Me: But you lost your hook. I don’t want you to lose mine. Then I won’t have a hook.
Kid1: I told you, I won’t lose it, I just want to borrow it.
Me: What is my guarantee that you won’t lose it while you have borrowed it?
Kid1: Well, I guess if I do, you can have mine.
Me: But you lost yours.
Kid1: I didn’t lose it, I just can’t find it.
Me: Then…no. You can’t borrow mine. Find your hook.
Kid1: *yelling* THAT’S NOT FAIR!!!! I LOST MY HOOK!

End result? I did not let her borrow my G hook, but now she has a one hour deadline to clean her room. Her plastic hook is either in there or between the couch cushions, guaranteed.

JW *

PS: Happy Father’s Day to DH who does not know how to crochet but will probably be the one to find the missing hook. When he sits on the couch after doing the dishes.

Creativity Beyond the Word

I am blogging today to tell you I blogged somewhere else today. Like you do.

My post is about creative projects that aren’t writing and why do I procrastinate all the time? The post does not answer the second question, since it’s unanswerable.

Jody Wallace
Author, Cat Person, Amigurumist of the Apocalypse  *

Dear Pants

Dear Garments in my Pants Drawer Masquerading as my Friends,

We need to talk. Maybe you’re dieting, maybe you’re on an exercise kick, maybe you just cut that afternoon soda, but recently, you’ve changed. You used to be forgiving and kind, always ready to provide flattery and comfort. I could take you anywhere and never regret my choice. You had perfect manners and your behavior was all that is exemplary in a pair of pants.

However, I’ve noticed that you’re no longer the garments I took in so many years ago. You’re snippy with me, and you’re uptight, and you are often cutting. You make me look bad in front of my friends, and my mirror, and you also make me uncomfortable. And to say you’ve become judgmental is an understatement! Pick, pick, pick. Pinch, pinch, pinch. Crack, crack, crack. Is there no end to your evil ways??

After we’ve been together so long, I expected better of you. And that is why I will be favoring my REAL friends yet again, Miss Yoga Pants and Mr. PJs. Sure, they aren’t quite as experienced in the social niceties of “leaving the house” and “looking like I bathed”, but with the right shirts to help them stumble through the challenges, we can work with that.

Or maybe I’ll just prove I can do without you ENTIRELY. How would you like that? Madame Mou-Mou is much nicer to me, and so is Susie Swingdress. THEY never threaten to slice me in half when I bend over. THEY never ride me up in the no-no place like some kind of denim dominatrix. And when I’m done with them, they sweetly subside into the dirty laundry without leaving red marks all over me, tracery of the torture I was forced to endure.

Don’t think I can’t quit you, mean pants. Because I can. So you’d better shape the hell up and change back into the garments who once swore to love and protect me, through sickness and in health, until death or really indecent holes in the crotch do us part.

A Totally Unchanged Person Who Is Disappointed In Her Pants *