OPERATION: GET UN-UNEMPLOYED, WEEK ONE

In my 7 days of being jobless, I have:
1. Found out that in 14 days I will be car-less
2. Tried unsuccessfully to get my brother to sing the James Taylor part of "Mockingbird" so we could duet. Not to be deterred, I instead danced around the living room, played the song 8 consecutive times and sang it myself using a blue rubber dog bone as a microphone (I know I looked/sounded just like Carly, I know it!).
3. Refreshed the job listings on Monster and the Post's website so many times that the clickiness of my mouse is wearing down
4. Spent 150 dollars on a hair straightener. Because that's what you do when you have no income.
5. Started writing 2 novels.
6. Abandoned writing 2 novels.
7. Seriously considered contacting the Better Business Bureau when the Papa John's delivery guy called me "sweetheart" (it was just totally unnecessary, all I'm saying).
8. Got lost for about an hour on the George Mason campus when I took Natalie to return some books.
9. Basically stole a map from a freshman on said campus who was using it to find some building.

And right now I am watching an episode of "American Justice" about Lorena Bobbit. Why are all the crazies from Northern Virginia, guys?

There are 3 things wrong with this quote:

"I'm sorry ma'am, your truck failed inspection today. It failed real bad."

1.If you're going to give me such devastating news, at least say it correctly. I hate when people do that. Hate it real bad.
2. I'm not a ma'am, you jackass.
3. Big Red is not a truck. It is not a car. It is the LOVE OF MY LIFE EVEN THOUGH IT NEVER DOES WHAT IT'S SUPPOSED TO AND TREATS ME BADLY.


I know. Some of you aren't surprised. But Big Red has NEVER failed inspection in the 10 years that he has been in my life. Never. He waits until AFTER the inspection to explode coolant or break the fan belt or have the gas pedal fall off. And this time it's different.

Because I don't think he's getting fixed.

And I'm going to CRY because he's a piece of crap, but he's MY piece of crap. And I have been through SO MUCH WITH MY CAR.

AND I'm probably not going to get a new car. I'll probably have to drive my mom's car (UGLY GREEN, BOOOO BOOOO BOOOOOOOOOOO).



Right now, I am unemployed and I have no car. Dear God, someone HELP.

Jenn's Top 10 Emmy Moments

10. Poor Jaclyn Smith standing between Crazy Angel #1 and Crazy Angel #2, trying to give a serious and thoughtful tribute to Aaron Spelling. If you Tivo-ed, PLEASE go back and just watch Kate get distracted and stare off to the right side of the stage and the ceiling, and Farrah twirl her hair and act generally insane (her face looks SO MUCH BETTER, though, so props to that surgeon). But can we also talk about how Jaclyn Smith seriously looks about 30 years old? It's ridiculous, I think she looks younger than me.
9. Cloris Leachman shaking her breasts while some poor guy tries to give an acceptance speech and my brother almost vomits on the floor.
8. Helen Mirren (who looked so, so good!) saying that she was thankful she didn't fall "ass over tits". She can try to pass that off as a charming British saying, but I lived in London for 5 months and everyone I met would probably sooner die than say that in private, let alone on a stage in front of the world. Honestly, what was with all the old women trying to make us notice/discuss/look at their breasts (what was with the breasts in general? Virginia Madsen, that was a bit much, honey).
7. The intro with the plane crash that NBC didn't cut/modify to eliminate the part with the plane actually going down less than 24 hours after 49 people died in a plane crash in Kentucky
6. Paula Abdul, showing up on the red carpet clearly under the influence of alcohol or pain-killers or horse tranquilizers, complete with a JEWELED LIZARD/AMPHIBIAN OF SOME KIND shoved into her tacky hair extensions and a portable mini fan that she tried to use on Billy Bush during one of the most awkward moments of all time.
5. Allison Janney, a grown-ass woman, showing up to the Emmy's in a flapper costume.
4. Ryan Seacrest calling Suri Cruise "it".
3. Leah Remini's reaction to Ryan Seacrest calling Suri Cruise "it".
2. Barry "I'm Having Hip Surgery Tommorow And Yet I Insist On Swiveling My Body Around, Making Everyone Uncomfortable" Manilow beating Stephen Colbert. Seriously...what?

And the number one moment of the night, which didn't even happen on tv:

1. The following exchange:
Me (as Barry Manilow accepts his award): I can't believe he beat Stephen Colbert
My sister, Lizz: I can't believe that's a man!

Just a thought

Why didn't anyone realize that John Mark Karr was a weirdo when he named his daughters Angel and Innocence and one of his sons SEVEN EXODUS? Honestly, SEVEN EXODUS??!?!??! You can't just put two random nouns together and say it's your baby's name. Because where do we draw the line? Four Genesis? Cheese Pencil? Piano Towel? We've already got Audio Science (see: Shannyn Sossamon).

I understand that naming your children weird things doesn't make you a pedophile, but it PROBABLY means you are a little bit weird (HELLO Fank Zappa was crazy, and now Moon Unit and Dweezil are paying for it; apparently likewise for Jason Lee and poor little...wait for it...PILOT INSPEKTOR LEE). Or it means that you hate your children.

No drugs, no cannibalism, no problem!

Is it weird that the first thing that caught my eye was the grandma hat?

I'm trying out a new thing called "actually writing in the blog often instead of once every month, because it is a blog and not a book and the whole immediacy thing is what makes it a blog, plus I don't have anything to do while I am, ahem, between jobs *cough, unemloyed, cough*". So basically, keep refreshing this page every 4 minutes (I'm not going to tell you in my AIM profile anymore when I have a new blog entry, so be prepared to check continuosly. In fact, just o make sure that you do, I will occasionally be posting embarassing personal information about every one of you, so the sooner you check the blog and see said info, the quicker you can put in a request for said information to be removed (NOTE: aforementioned requests will almost always be denied, but what the hell, give it a shot).

So while you're waiting to refresh this page and find a new, exciting entry, check out this awesome story on CNN about three fishermen who were lost at sea for NINE FREAKING MONTHS. The best party of the story is clearly the headline: "Lost fishermen: No drugs, no cannibalism". No FUN, you mean.

ALSO: after some intelligent, thoughtful persuading on my behalf ("Eriiiiiiiic, I want you to start a blog. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease start a blog, pleeeeeeeeeeease, you are funny, entertaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain me Eric, waaaaaaaaaaaaaah"), my favorite surfing scientific Stanford student has started a blog! In case you don't know him, let me tell you a little bit about Eric. I met him my freshman year of college when he was a sophomore through one of the loves of my life, Natalie (I'd love her more if she also started a damn blog). He drove a pick-up truck that was possibly even more tempermental than Big Red, and he was in the rental car with me when I crashed it in my mechanic's parking lot and then screamed and cursed in front of a family with small children. Eric is a scientist. But not a weird one!! No, he is a cool one, my friends (and when he discovers something huge, he can thank me for once saving his ass and then the scientific community can finally accept me!). So read his blog. But NOT if it takes time away from reading mine. Not to threaten, but he doesn't know embarassing stories about you (oh, don't think you're off the hook, Random Lurkers Who Read This Blog Often But Don't Ever Comment Or Say Hi. My trusty, super-precise site-counter tells me you are...in the United States. I WILL find you).

It IS Lonely Out In Space...

Guys, I am very very very VERY sad about the devastating news this morning.

Those bastards at the International Astronomical Union have decided that Pluto is no longer a planet. Needless to say, I miss it already.

Granted, Pluto is not my favorite planet (Neptune) but this is sad nonetheless. Ostracizing something because it is "too small"? Have we learned NOTHING from Dr. Seuss's acclaimed "Horton Hears A Who"?*

As sad as I am over this, imagine how the people at nineplanets.org feel. Or the scientists who are like Pluto experts or whatever. They've just been downgraded. This is ludicrous, LUDICROUS I say. Was Pluto not just as miniscule in 1930? I believe it was!

Why couldn't this have happened to Uranus ("Making Elementary School Kids Giggle Inappropriately Since 1781")?

*" A person's a person, no matter how small". Jesus, sometimes I really have to hold your hands through the pop references**. Just try to keep up. alright?

**I apologize for that. It was mean, and the reference was kind of awkward, yes? Pluto is not a person***. I'm sorry for flying off the handle like that.

***Not a planet, either. The bastards.

The Long Awaited Dr. John Post That Was Not Really Worth The Wait At All

I promise Dr. John, and four years later, I deliver. YOU'RE WELCOME.


So today I was cruising along (actually, not cruising so much as racing maniacally to work, breaking speed limits and weaving through traffic like Bush after too much Southern Comfort) when the song "Right Place, Wrong Time" came on. Should this not be the theme music of my life? Not only do I have crazy bad luck, but I am often quite literally at the right place at the wrong time-my once endearing habit of getting to a destination fashionably tardy is getting less cute by the day. Plus the song is just so cool, and he says "hoo-AH" for "whore", and who doesn't love that?

I knew that I had to blog about Dr. John. I feel like he's one of those "lost" celebrities that are huge at one time but somehow get less important as the years go on (this might just be a theory that I formulated so I could reassure myself as I rock back and forth in a corner that one day The Pussycat Dolls will fade into obscurity and all will once again be right with the world). In fact, I'm willing to bet that you don't even know who he is. You might even be googling him at this very second. Don't feel bad, google away. How awesome would it be if we could somehow get him on the "top most searched for people of the day" list? The Google people wouldn't know what the hell was going on.

Needing to find something prolific to say about this guy, I checked out his wikipedia page and discovered something cool that I am willing to bet no one else has ever blogged about in the history of the Internet. Were you aware that Jim Henson modeled the main guy in the Muppet band after him? Well, he did. DON'T pretend like you don't know what the Muppet band is, you dirty liar.

I just remember the Muppet band as the welcome distraction from Miss Piggy's incessant bitching (she was annoying as all hell and really controlling, don't play). But they have this really complex backstory. They have a name-"Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem"-which is SO 70's folksy/pop, in the vein of Janis Joplin's band Big Brother and the Holding Company, Let's make Our Band's Name As Long As Physically Possible and the like. From left to right, here are the characters and who they are based on:


Dr. Teeth, lead singer and modeled after, duh, Dr. John. I don't understand his nose.

Rowlf, who the Crazy People on the internet who are obsessed with this fake puppet band claim isn't REALLY part of the band because he's a prominent character in the rest of the series and not modeled after a real musician and blahblahblah. All I know is that he's the only one without clothes, and I'm worried that he feels demeaned by this.

Animal is based on Keith Moon, something you won't truly understand until you go to YouTube and find some late 60's/pre-serious drug addiction Who footage because dude was NUTS. Like I don't know how a human can move their hands that fast. And here is a direct quote from Wikipedia to illustrate just how crazy the people on the internet who are into Muppets actually are:
"Ty Pennington commented that Animal had ADHD, when the character was appearing on an episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. This fact is disputable, as the appearance can easily be considered not part of the Muppets canon".
CHRIST. As a general rule, I don't use the word "canon" when referring to talking pieces of felt, but different strokes.

Zoot is based on some sax player that I don't care enough to type about.

Sgt. Floyd Pepper. I have NO CLUE who this guy is modeled after. NO clue. Maybe the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper moustache or Beatles' Sgt. Pepper coat might contain some hint, but I can't quite decipher it.

Janice was originally supposed to be Mick Jagger-esque, but turned into Carly Simon/valley girl hybrid with a name that's an homage to Janis Joplin.


So there you go. Everything you never wanted to know about the Muppet band. Now would be the right place AND right time to find me a job where I can write about things that matter and not about puppets who play bass guitar

How To Express To Your Friends Why It Is Disgusting That Iran Is Having An Exhibit Of Holocaust Cartoons (Without Sounding Like A Hypocrite)

1. The whole "no depictions of Mohammed" thing is a MUSLIM ideal, and one that non-Muslims are not held to legally (in most countries), religously, or even morally. Would I personally draw a cartoon of Mohammed? No, because I choose to be respectful of other religions and if it truly bothers someone on that deep a level, why do it? But do I demand that Pizza Hut do away with their pepperoni pizzas, which, according to my religion, represents two abominations (milk and meat, PLUS an "unclean" animal) against God? Uh, no.

2. The whole "hey, maybe it's not cool to draw a cartoon, which is humorous in nature, mocking the bloody, savage, brutal slaying of 6 million people (plus all the non-Jews who were murdered)" is a HUMAN ideal, and as far as I was aware, Iranians are human (although the jury' still out on President Jackass McCrazy Eyes and his used-car salesman hair-do) and should therefore adhere to HUMAN standards of decency (i.e., slaying babies in their mothers' arms and then burning their bodies in ovens which were being run by their family members isn't really funny).






Sorry to get so serious, kids. I'm really cranky. I just got back from the Carribbean and wasn't even allowed to bring duty-free rum back because THE TERRORISTS ARE RUINING MY LIFE.


For your trouble, here are some, shall we say, "rum-inspired" vacation pics to remind me not to drink again as I get ridiculous and ugly and get you excited for the forthcoming vacation blog post:

Hmm, can't decide: Failing Every Major Adversity, or Freakishly Easily Manipulated Acronym?

Hey guys! It's me, Jenn! Did you hear about those jackasses in Fairfax County, VA who had their homes damaged during the freak, record-breaking floods last month and are now expecting FEMA to help them out? Um, the last time I checked this was AMERICA, not BleedingHeartCharityVille.

But DON'T WORRY! Because, now check this out, FEMA isn't going to help them! Things are tough at FEMA right now; they are running out of ways to look too busy to help people in the Gulf who STILL have no place to live. They don't have time for this nonsense. But the best part is the official reason why Fairfax isn't getting any help. They're too wealthy! Apparently, the fact that the medium income is so high means that they don't deserve aid from the federal government that they pay for.

And this high income couldn't POSSIBLY mean a handful of insanely wealthy people (like, oh I don't know, senators and reps from around the country that choose to live there) + average, everyday folks+a hell of a lot of people who are scraping to get by in a place where the cost of living is so insane yet the minimum wage hasn't risen in a decade. Nah, that can't be it. I've worked with kids whose parents work three jobs and can't afford to buy them shoes, or who go to school when they're sick just so they will get food for the day. But as I see now, it's probably because their parents were blowing their six-figure salaries on yachts (wow, that sure would have come in handy during the floods!):

FEMA Denies Aid to Homeowners, Tells Fairfax to Help Its Own More
County's Affluence Noted; Arlington, Alexandria Also Lose Out
'"Fairfax should use its resources to help its own people," said Martinez, who was brought in by FEMA from Texas to oversee Virginia's application for aid, which could have included cash grants, low-interest loans, unemployment assistance and temporary housing.
"It's an affluent community that's able to address the specific needs of its residents," Martinez said.
County officials expressed outrage at FEMA's decision.
"We have affluent people, we have poor people and we have people in between," said Gerald E. Connolly (D), chairman of the Board of Supervisors. "For any federal official to say something like that, he ought to be fired. These people need access to capital that we don't have."'


FEMA is absolutely right on this one! I've said it before, I've said it again; when people in need look to you for help in a time of emergency, the thing to do is PASS THE BUCK. Why does it have to be FEMA's problem?!?! Their offices a couple of miles away went undamaged. Why should they pay for the misfortune of others? It's not like it's their job or anything....


FEMA Mission
DISASTER. It strikes anytime, anywhere. It takes many forms -- a hurricane, an earthquake, a tornado, a flood, a fire or a hazardous spill, an act of nature or an act of terrorism. It builds over days or weeks, or hits suddenly, without warning. Every year, millions of Americans face disaster, and its terrifying consequences.
On March 1, 2003, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) became part of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS). FEMA's continuing mission within the new department is to lead the effort to prepare the nation for all hazards and effectively manage federal response and recovery efforts following any national incident. FEMA also initiates proactive mitigation activities, trains first responders, and manages the National Flood Insurance Program.

Oh, there must be someone out there more fit to help Fairfax County. Someone with some kind of program, a program that offers insurance for floods...on a national level. Or something. Hey, you know what would be perfect for this situation? An Agency, paid for by taxes, taxes paid by people in places like, say, Fairfax County (who are paying A TON OF TAXES because of their income levels...cue the irony music), whose job AND SOLE PURPOSE FOR EXISTING was to Manage Federal Emergencies. Wouldn't that just be ideal? Ah, well. Enough Monday morning quarterback-ing. If only such an agency had been formed sometime prior to this. Like in 2003.

Or something.

Oh, what's up Karma?

I love when religious people are hypocrites. LOVE it! Especially religious people who are hateful and judgmental. SO, as you can imagine, I was delighted to find out that my good friend Mel Gibson was arrested! For drunk driving! Oh, silly, silly Mel. You're supposed to "love thy brother", not try to plow him down in a drunken, selfish, irresponsible, idiotic stupor.

I was even more thrilled when I read the police report on tmz.com where Gibson, deciding that a DUI wouldn't damage his reputation enough, allegedly began attacking....wait for it...the Jews:

"TMZ has learned that Mel Gibson went on a rampage when he was arrested Friday on suspicion of drunk driving, hurling religious epithets. TMZ has also learned that the Los Angeles County Sheriff's department had the initial report doctored to keep the real story under wraps.
TMZ has four pages of the original report prepared by the arresting officer in the case, L.A. County Sheriff's Deputy James Mee. According to the report, Gibson became agitated after he was stopped on Pacific Coast Highway and told he was to be detained for drunk driving Friday morning in Malibu. The actor began swearing uncontrollably. Gibson repeatedly said, "My life is f****d." Law enforcement sources say the deputy, worried that Gibson might become violent, told the actor that he was supposed to cuff him but would not, as long as Gibson cooperated. As the two stood next to the hood of the patrol car, the deputy asked Gibson to get inside. Deputy Mee then walked over to the passenger door and opened it. The report says Gibson then said, "I'm not going to get in your car," and bolted to his car. The deputy quickly subdued Gibson, cuffed him and put him inside the patrol car. ...The report says Gibson then launched into a barrage of anti-Semitic statements: "F*****g Jews... The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world." Gibson then asked the deputy, "Are you a Jew?"'

Ah, yes. The old stand-by. Someone's gotta be the scapegoat.


SHUT UP MEL GIB-SUCK. Unless you were drinking Manischewitz, the Jews have nothing to do with this.

We won't be taking the blame for "The Man Without A Face" either. You drunk bastard.

Sunrise, Sunset

As you know, I never advocate leaving this page for ANY REASON.

However, I feel like I would be cheating you out of a crapload of awesomeness if I neglected to mention that my little baby brother, Josh, now has a blog (NOTE: he just told me I should refer to him as my "oldest brother, because it wouldn't be a lie").

He is:
-12 years old
-going into 7th grade
-ridiculously liberal and into current events and pop culture (he is OBSESSED with "The Colbert Report")
-way more clever and intelligent than I might ever be.

I'm not joking. The kid is funny. The title of his blog? "This Blog Goes Up To 11". See?

Plus he's super competitive and on a mission to get as many blog hits as possible (which is why he's updating it every hour or so...literally). So check it out. He's seriously just like me, but like a midget version of me with a Y chromosome and interest in sports.

That's enough, Keira. ENOUGH

I used to think that I hated Keira Knightley because she always pursed her lips in some weird, pseudo-Olsen twin manner that I just DETEST. Like it gave me chills and made me angry.

Then I went to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie (in which Johnny Depp over-acts to such a frightening degree that it made the ridiculous Edward Scissorhands get-up look like the understatement of the century). And in the 17th hour of the film, I realized something. I don't hate Keira because of the ridiculous lip-pursing. Not at all.

I hate her because she purses her lips and juts out her chin. At the same time.

Note:



















Fake hair stolen from Lohan: check
Eyebrows that don't even pretend to match said fake hair: check
Lips and chin: oh, crap, they're trying to escape from my face!!!
















"Oh, I am ever so sad and wistful. So wistful that I am hugging what appears to be a noose of some sort. Also, note the lack of glitter make-up and unfortunate bangs. Clearly I am playing a character that is devastatingly plain, yet charming (uglying it up=Oscar time!) in a British period piece (I'm British, remember? Remember guys? This automatically makes me exotic and fascinating and witty to you simple Americans.)"

















The chin/lip move also works on the red carpet, as does the charming devil-may-care attitude regarding how many of her young female fans she just convinced to stop eating. Also, gold chain mail? Really? Shut up, Keira.




It's also important to note that this signature move is not easy to do. I tried it out myself, resulting in sore lip-muscles, a possibly dislocated jaw, and endless shame due to the fact that I now have an entire folder of pictures on my computer of me attempting to replicate the pose. Here are some samples:





If tomorrow everyone walked around on the street with this ridiculous expression, perhaps Ms. Knightley would take a hint. Because if she doesn't stop, I'm going to see the next Pirates movie in costume, complete with two black eye-patches and a peg leg in case anyone else in the theater wants me to put them out of their misery.

DSW SHOE WAREHOUSE SUCKS. AND ALSO, THEY HATE BABIES AND KITTENS AND MAYBE EVEN FREEDOM

I have a KILLER post about Dr. John that I have been working on, but it will have to wait because there is an EMERGENCY situation going on. I know what you're thinking-"Jenn, why would you tease me by mentioning that you are withholding a post about the greatest forgotten 70's rock phenom of all time?", and I'm sorry that I did it, but now you have a reason to go on living, knowing that someday soon it will be both the right place and right time for you to see the winning entry.

Anyway, on to the horrific tale.

I'll admit, it took me a while to get on the DSW Shoe Warehouse bandwagon. For one, I dislike any kind of clothing vendor that is in a warehouse of any kind. It's just a policy I have; if you're buying things from a warehouse, you are either purchasing illegal goods or maybe you've convinced yourself that your family of four simply MUST have eight pounds of Cheerios and a 72-pack of canned peaches and are therefore at Costco. I just don't like the idea of buying shoes from a warehouse. It seems seedy and gross and cheap and weird. But it's not nearly as bad as "Dress Barn". Do not EVEN get me started on that atrocity (if you're shopping there for larger sizes, then the cow jokes just write themselves, people). But I also don't like the idea of having to reach over a group of dainty-footed women to grab the 11.5's/12's on the bottom of a pile of shoes. At least at Nordstrom's I can demurely mumble to the salesman "um, what's the largest size this comes in?" and when he tells me I can either respond with "perfect, can I try that please?" or, if the largest is 10, say something like "well, I was just taking a survey, I certainly don't have feet so large that shoes sometimes don't come in my size" and then laugh nervously.

But I overcame my doubts and over time began to embrace the 'House. Until last week, when I went to the one in Springfield with my mom because I needed sneakers.

After looking through the entire sneaker section and not being able to find a SINGLE shoe above a 10, I began to feel nauseous.

"OH.MY. GOD," I said to my mother in a scared, hushed voice. "They've stopped carrying 11's!"

"Don't be ridiculous," my ALWAYS SYMPATHETIC mother responded.

In a panic I rushed through the aisles, looking at other styles of shoes.

You guys, there were THREE shoes above a 10 in the entire store. Plus the once-huge "over 11" section of sale shoes? Now one measly, pathetic shelf.

I rushed over to a cashier and demanded that she tell me what happened. I think I scared her a little bit. It might have been the red face complete with veins popping out of the forehead and actual steam clouds puffing out of my ears. Or the idea that I might kill her with my gigantic feet. Either way, she averted her eyes and laughed nervously, telling me some BULLSHIT story about shipments not being in or some crap.

"She's lying!" I hissed to my mother.

"Jennifer!" she responded as she slid a pair of size 9 sandals on the counter.

"I'm telling you, they aren't carrying larger sizes anymore. This is the single worst thing that has ever happened in the history of the world."

" Why are you being so dramatic?" she asked, in a supportive, nurturing way.

"BECAUSE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND (note: I've found this to be the most effective and adult response to any argument with my parents) YOU WEAR NORMAL SIZE SHOES AND IT'S NOT HARD FOR YOU AND OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO HAVE TO TIE CARDBOARD TO MY FEET OR JUST NOT WALK ANYWHERE...EVER."

I'm not really sure what happened after this, but there might have been some Klonopin involved that evening. So later in the week, I was in Fair Lakes and decided to try another store, thinking that surely it was just some kind of fluke and THEY would certainly have more 11's and then all would be right with the world and I would skip happily out of there with some cute shoes and there would be rainbows and birds chirping and maybe a kicky little theme song.

It was not to be.

Jenn: Um, you guys are stopping stocking 11's and up, aren't you?
Manager: (smirking, upping the possibility that I would attempt to smack it off his face by 90%) Well, officially, I can tell you that we stock one size 11 in many styles, but...

So, there you have it. I think everyone should boycott that ridiculous store for two reasons.
1. They lie and will not just admit that they SUCK and are size-ist or that they SUCK.
2. JUST BECAUSE I HAVE GIGANTIC FEET DOESN'T MEAN THAT I DON'T DESERVE/NEED SHOES.

I have to go now. I'm super sad. Like this is worse than any break-up ever. Because with this break-up, I CAN'T EVEN GO SHOE SHOPPING TO CONSOLE ME.

Oh, the irony. It burns.

Wish you were here...

I can NOT believe Syd Barrett is dead. Like I totally feel numb. You could say comfortably numb, but I won't because I think it would be disrespectful.

I'm upset about this for two reasons:
1. While Pink Floyd is not one of my all-time favorite bands, some of their songs rank right up there. "See Emily Play" has got to be one of the most ridiculously addicting rock songs ever; it's so weird, but you have to hear it over and over and over until people threaten to stop being your friend if you don't quit with the "ah-aaaaaaaaaaaaaah"'s. And although he wasn't technically with them when it came out, I think that "Wish You Were Here" is perfect. Absolutely perfect. Like I seriously had a religious experience when I first heard it. I was twelve-ish and sitting in my mom's car for some reason, and it came on the radio. I was about to change the channel (20 bucks I wanted to hear something like "Mmmmmbop" or "Barbie Girl" or or something equally horrific; I can't stand the barren wasteland of music that was my adolescent years) but something about it was so eerie that I just couldn't. And then the singing started, and I have never been so immediately touched by lyrics. It made me cry. See, I'm tearing up right now. It's just perfect.
2. I'm afraid that I killed him.

I'll explain.

This is going to sound ridiculous, but I'm kind of psychic. Well, not really in a traditional sense. But I have this weird thing where if I say something bad/mention someone out of the blue, they might end up dead/sick. HOWEVER, this, for whatever reason, ONLY applies to old men (so all you twenty-something boys that have pissed me off, don't worry you're safe-for now...). Might I present THE EVIDENCE:
1. Last fall, I randomly put up an away message that said "I can't wait until Castro bites it so I can go to Havana and have a mojito." Ok, so it MIGHT be a little tasteless and insensitive, but whatever, I thought nothing of it. And how often does Fidel Castro come up in your everyday conversations? Hardly ever. So this was just some random thing that I thought about while sitting in class and put in an away message. The next day CNN runs a story about how Castro is actually really sick and has Parkinsons and might possibly die very very soon.
2. A couple of months ago someone sent me an e-mail and randomly mentioned Richard Pryor. I read it and said to a friend who was in the room "I totally don't care about Richard Pryor, he's not even funny." A few days later? Dead.
3. I bad-mouthed Cheney, per usual. Hours later he was in the hospital with chest pains.
4. Said that Bob Denver gave me a pervy vibe. He died later that week.

There are like a ton more-this happens all the damn time. But this brings me to Syd.
Monday evening I was driving with my brother and dun dun dun! "Wish You Were Here" came on the radio. I made him stay in the car and listen to the whole thing and told him why it was such an awesome song. We talked about it for about 20 minutes.

Less than 24 hours later, I find out that Syd Barrett, founder of the band that did that song, had died.

So now my psychic abilities have extended to when I say nice things about people. From now on, I say NOTHING. I want no part in the deaths of anymore rock legends.

I might be persuaded to discuss a few pop-stars, however.

Now is NOT the time

Dear North Korea,
WHAT ARE YOU DOING. Seriously.
Love,
Jenn
Ps-No, I mean really, what the hell are you thinking? We have a president that went to war with a country JUST BECAUSE HE FELT LIKE IT. Like he didn't even need a reason to do it. WE WENT TO WAR WITHOUT EVEN DECLARING WAR FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. So why would you think that now is the right time to go FIRING MISSILES. I have no time for this nonsense. Seriously, you're on your own. Also, please pass this message along to that dipshit running things over in Iran. You know the one, he's the guy with the crazy eyes walking around denying that the Holocaust ever happened.