Takin' time to make time...

And suddenly it's 2001 once again and I am scared of my mail. Not that this was found in the mail, but I hear "anthrax" and I just go there. But ew, I'm really glad it's not 2001 again; I was blonde for the better part of that year, and it was a terrible life choice.

And on a lighter note....

Unfortunate Situation: Plugging your i-Pod into your car while you're in a parking lot surrounded by people and having an embarrassing song play extremely loudly.

Unfortunate Situation That Could ONLY Happen To Jenn: Having the parking lot be attached to a Jewish Community Center, and having the song be "Son of a Preacher Man."

True story, by the way. Happened last month. This embarrassing situation was after the one where I cried on the phone with the CVS pharmacist, but before the one when I slipped on spilled coffee at National Airport and fell on my bad knee-AGAIN. Essentially, if I leave the house I'm either going to a.)embarrass myself, or b.) get lost going somewhere I've already been 45 times, therefore embarrassing myself.

Just some things I have to say

1. I'm in graduate school. It's a little scary, and I am under constant stress wondering when they will discover that I am not very smart and that they made a horrible mistake. Also, I feel like I'm cheating on my college (both big basketball schools, renowned journalism/comm. programs, you know).
2. The "no cell phones while driving in New York" law is RUINING MY LIFE. Don't they know that the car is where I do my best phone calling?
3. I've survived a week without air conditioning. It's like Survivor up in this piece, for real.

Where Can I Buy Desperation Barbie?

ABC really knows what women want. We like our men vacant, manicured/groomed within an inch of their lives, and made of wax. So they're giving us Brad:

Bradley is the newest victim of "The Bachelor", ABC's hit reality program where women give up their careers, dignity, and self-respect in order to prostitute themselves for a plastic rose from an equally plastic man who is also DATING/MAKING OUT WITH ALL 15 OF THEIR ROOMMATES. God bless America.

Homeboy looks like a Ken doll. I'm not entirely sure what bothers me the most about him-is it the dead eyes? Or the fact that it looks like the hair in his beard/sleaze-stache was placed onto his wax skin one by one by a pair of tweezers?

He's also a total natural. Nothing awkward or forced about this gem!

Dear Internet: Am freaking out. Please send cookies.

In the midst of all this sadness, I developed a Mystery Cut on my arm that has since morphed into a Mystery Scar. Also, seriously, I kind of have a wonky-looking face, but I doubt copious amounts of vitamin-E oil will solve that problem. Not that it's doing much for Mystery Scar either.

I'm moving in 12 days. To go to graduate school. I have not discussed the matter in this forum as of yet. But now I have to. Because I am losing it a tiny bit. And this involves me crying over running out of hair gel, hyperventilating in the parking lot of REI, giving myself shin splints from spending 45 hours a day at the gym working out my anxieties, and typing in weird, short, pseudo-sentences at the beginning of all blog entries.

I have about 8 billion things to do and I can't seem to accomplish anything. Like yesterday I went to paint pottery. My procrastination is hard. Core. I don't just play solitaire on the computer, friends. I go out and do crafts.

Basically, I'm probably going to be posting a little less frequently for a while. But don't worry, kids. I will not abandon you completely. Because where else can I go when I feel the need to tell literally TENS of people things like "yeah, so I have to get a mouth-guard to wear at night." This is true, p.s. I went to the dentist today and he told me two things. The first was about the mouth-guard, the second was when I was being fitted for said guard and involved something about my mouth having unusually powerful suction. I don't know. Basically I need to wear this thing to bed every night because a.) you never know when a hockey puck's going to be flying at your face and b.) I have developed a delightful little crossbite, which is essentially an underbite that can't quite commit. So yeah, I'm a little sad about being 24 and having to wear a glorified retainer.

The moral of the story: maybe take your orthodonture seriously the first time, instead of I don't know, using those little rubber bands that were meant to go on your braces for when you make a million tiny braids all over your head, Bo Derek style, because really you look like an ass and now your bite is still messed up. NEVER HAPPENED....

But I'm Still Sad About "Sassy"

I'm not sure of the exact moment when Jane magazine jumped the shark. I do know that it plummeted into an irreparable state of suck once the new editor-in-chief started last year, but it must have started prior to that. I guess when even Jane wants out of Jane, things can't be going well.



The point is, it's been steadily declining for a while now, but I've stuck by it. Because when Jane was good, it was GOOD. It was what made me want to major in magazine journalism, what helped me navigate the dismal abyss of teenage-dom when all Cosmo and Glamour wanted to do was tell me "50 Sizzling Sex Secrets That Your Man Wants You To Know NOW!" and explain why coral lipstick was going to change my life this season. I loved everything about it-the bitchy responses to reader mail, the distinct feel of the pages, the painfully honest editorials, the lack of diet tips, the sometimes less than polite language. But it eventually succumbed to the pressure brought on by the InTouch, USWeekly wave and little by little Jane began to change, and not for the better.



So when I heard that Jane finally folded last week, I was sad for about two seconds. And then I cracked open the latest issue and realized that this was not an untimely death, but rather a mercy-killing. Because what I found on page 84, "The Slacker's Guide To Looking Swanky", was just too sad and pathetic for my life. Please note: these "beauty" tips suck and are dangerous, not only to the entire women's rights movement, but to your actual health-they might literally kill you:



"Lip gloss brushed on your teeth will keep your smile luminous and help lips stay moisturized."
Why not just squirt it on your tongue and eat it. Nothing like a chapped and dull esophagus to turn a man off.

"Try a nontoxic red Sharpie for a long lasting lip stain. Dot along your lips and blend with a natural balm."
Because if it's nontoxic, then by all means, color your face with it. This is basically the grown-up equivalent of eating glue. Also, I don't really know any women who have NO extra tubes of lipstick/gloss lying around, but a surplus of red markers. And if you're doing this at work, then I hope they fire your ass for being creepy and weird.



And my personal favorite:
"Apply a lip plumper to your nipples if you're going sans bra for an attention getting pop."
This is just...wrong. And sounds painful. And dangerous. And inappropriate. And RIDICULOUS. And since when is this something that we want? (Straight) men are most likely going to be looking at your breasts anyway. That just happens. Is this necessary?


R.I.P, Jane. Make sure to smear motor-oil on your eyelids and exfoliate your nose with a Brillo pad before your head up to that editorial meeting in the sky.

Really, really proud to be a Virginian right now

Max and I are less than amused with this bullshit

I know, I'm not usually prone to making snap judgements or flying off the handle or being overly dramatic EVER AT ALL. However, if this is true? Throw away the effing key, man.

Some highlights:


"Some dogs were killed after being "rolled," a process by which dogs are tested to determine if they are ferocious fighters. However, in one case, a female pit bull was injured in a fight that cost Vick and his co-defendants $13,000, according to the indictment.

After Vick was consulted about the canine's condition, one of his co-defendants "executed the losing dog by wetting the dog down with water and electrocuting the animal," the indictment states.

Various other methods were used to kill dogs that fought or tested poorly, including hanging, drowning, shooting, and in at least one case, slamming the dog to the ground, the indictment says.

The indictment alleges that the Falcons phenom and his cohorts engaged in other disturbing practices and that a raid on a home in Virginia uncovered items like "breaking sticks" -- used for prying fighting dogs' jaws apart -- and a "rape stand" used to tie down aggressive female dogs for breeding."




To make up for the violence being perpetrated towards his brethren and appease the guilt that I feel for a.)living in the same state as these bastards and b.) belonging to the same species as said bastards, I have given Max a new bone, dog ice-cream, and about 80 thousand treats in the past few hours. I'm going to make a wonderful Jewish mother someday.

Racism. Gangsta Rap. Intrigue on the High Seas.

PROVIDENCE, Rhode Island (AP) -- The longtime chairman of the Roger Williams University board admitted Monday to using the N-word during a board meeting, saying it "kind of slipped out."
"I apologized for that," Ralph Papitto said in an interview on WPRO-AM. "What else can I do? Kill myself?"

1.)Who is this Roger Williams, and how did he get his own university? Because I really, really want one too.

2.) I don't exactly understand how this could just "slip out". I don't think I've ever actually said that word out loud, for real. Granted, this guy is like 754 years old (or 80, whatev) so I SUPPOSE he could say that he used that word like 60 years ago when it wasn't as socially reprehensible and he hasn't used it since and it just slipped, as words are wont to do after not being used at all for 60 years in the land of the magical Roger Williams University (seriously, who is this guy??*). Except....

'"The first time I heard it was on television or rap music or something," he told WPRO."

DAMN IT RALPH, I'm trying to help you out here. I find it hard to believe that a chairman of a college who was like 40 years old during the Civil Rights Movement NEVER HEARD THE N-WORD until Dr. Dre came around and effed up his universe.


3.)Yes, Ralph. You should just kill yourself. Because if people are still disappointed at disgusting bigotry coming from a leader at a university even after said leader gave his all-healing apology, they must want you to kill yourself. Did you first hear that from an episode of Gilmore Girls or something?


*ALLEGEDLY he was some kind of early English settler and theologian . I really wanted him to be a pirate. Disappointed.

10 Things To Tell My 16-Year-Old Self

1. Don't be afraid to wear high-heels. And for God's sake, get over the fact that those boys teased you in 6th grade for being taller than the teacher.

2. Everyone is lying to you-you will never ever ever EVER use Algebra, Geometry, or Trig. Never ever. In fact, in 8 years you'll take the GRE's and rely on formulas that you straight up invented in your head to score above average on the math section.


3. Don't freak out about the car (or lack thereof) situation. In a few months, your dad will cave and give you the red Explorer to drive when he realizes that he needs someone to pick up your youngest siblings from private school on Mondays.


4. Don't take yourself so damn seriously. Your parents are the grown-ups, you don't have to worry about everything and try to fix everyone's problems.


5. Pay attention and LEARN PAGEMAKER NOW. Because it's going to be really embarrassing in two years when you're managing editor of your school paper and you still don't know how to work the computers but have to pretend like you know everything, and you're forced to publicly berate and abuse freshmen to deflect attention from your incompetency.


6. One of the best things about you is that you don't cave into peer pressure. In 8 years you won't regret not getting high with that sketchy 20-something waiter in the parking lot of the Silver Diner.


7. You don't look good as a blonde now, you're not going to look good as a blonde when you do this again in 6 years.


8. Don't quit physical therapy for your dislocated knee just because Hot Physical Therapist moved to Las Vegas. Because being able to predict the weather based solely on how badly your cartilage is cracking won't help you pick up as many men as you think when you're 24.


9. Just say no to dumbing yourself down to appease the fragile teenage male ego. And white eye-liner. Avoid both at all costs.



10. Things will get better. They're going to get a hell of a lot worse first, but they will get better.

Stop and smell the...disposable razors?

I use these razors:

No, it's not Hair Removal Sunday. And I'm not being paid to endorse them by BIC (but should BIC want to pay me, I will whore it out for them so fast their little pivoting razor heads will spin). The purpose of me sharing this with you is to preface a little story. So today I go to pick up some of these razors at Target. Now, I notice that right next to the usual kind of "Soleil" razors is what looks to be a package of the same razors, just in a different purple-y color. So I buy them. I'm adventurous. I like purple. What's the harm, right? WRONG.

I was just about to take a shower, so I grabbed the package of razors and that's when I noticed it. These were not my usual razors in a different color scheme. No, these were far more sinister.

These were razors with scented handles.

Let's list why this is ridiculous, shall we?

1. These razors are used by women. Not little girls. Women can handle products that come in colors other than pink and aren't scented all girly-like and crap. I have a pretty good idea where the notion that we needed scented plastic items. I call this the "Strawberry Shortcake Doll Syndrome".

2. The website explains that they "chose lavender based on our research, which showed the relaxing scent is popular today in a variety of health and beauty care products". Read that again. Their "research" basically included going to CVS and looking at the shelves. They didn't actually do any research about the scent at all.

3. How are you supposed to smell this anyway? Unless these are designed for women WITH MOUSTACHES THAT THEY SHAVE WITH RAZORS, then I don't understand how you get the razors close enough to your nose to enjoy the soothing, relaxing scent.

4. Lastly, soothed and relaxed are not two things that I want to be while holding a blade.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go set women back a few decades by using this crap.

Don't test me, Vicki

You guys are TOO MUCH. I realized there was a great public outcry when I took an unscheduled leave from my blogging duties. I knew there were tears and waves of depression and much melancholy sweeping through the nation. But I didn't realize it went this far. I couldn't have fathomed that it would surpass this world and reached all the way to.....Spice World.

I don't know how you managed it, but bravo. Somehow word of my departure reached Victoria Beckham, who decided to take measures so drastic that I would be unable to resist commenting on a cyber forum. Homegirl threw down the gauntlet. And it's a real shame she did, because clearly Ms. Beckham could have used that gauntlet (or, I don't know, A SHIRT) to cover herself when she went out in public today:

Seriously. This woman is a MOTHER. And here she is looking like some kind of PATRIOTIC DOMINATRIX. I mean, am I way off-base here? I don't understand dressing like Catwoman to go about your daily activities. And just look at her here; everyone else is smiling and, I don't know, human-like and she's on some kind of Parisian runway in her mind. She's just "that girl". The kind who tells her friends that she's just wearing jeans and a T-shirt to the bar tonight and convinces them to do the same, then shows up in a g-string and pasties.

I'm going to go ahead and blame this fashion faux-whatthemotherlovingcrap on "I Wear A Union Jack As A Minidress Spice"*. Obviously Posh took this move to mean that any old thing lying around the house is appropriate for covering (or not) one's assets, or else she wouldn't be half-wearing a coaster.

*I know her real name, but I won't ever use it in this blog. Why, you ask? She named her kid Bluebell Madonna. Someone has to stand up for the wronged children of the world.

"AccuQuote: we're in the life insurance business, not the 'asking ourselves if this is appropriate given the date' business!"

I really can't fault AccuQuote for this ad that popped up on the right side of CNN.com a mere minute ago. Clearly market research has shown that nothing says "Happy Father's Day weekend!" like taking a moment to acknowledge the very real possibility that your old man could go at any time:

Oh, I don't know WHAT would happen, little Susie...except that you and Mommy would be ROLLING IN IT thanks to that sweet-ass life-insurance plan you bought Daddy for Father's Day!

File this under "People Are Ridiculous, And Also Kind Of Gross"

Most of the time, I try my damnedest to avoid the long, drawn out rants about The Man that I really want to blog about. I do this for two reasons. One, if I get started, I will never stop. Really. And two, though I am totally justified 90% of the time (although I am right 100% of the time, I am never wrong, and if you think that the math doesn't add up I refer you to the aforementioned percentage of times I am incorrect about anything), OCCASIONALLY I get irrationally annoyed/bothered by things that the general public might think is weird (Jay Leno, people who make audible breathing noises while chewing, all styles of Ray-Ban sunglasses) and I don't like to bring out The Crazy until AT LEAST the 5th date (but if you breathe loudly through your nose while chewing on the 4th date, my plans might change).

But we need to talk about my insurance company, because they are kind of evil geniuses. My proof:

My insurance will cover the HPV vaccine -as they should, and if you're a woman and yours doesn't then enough of this misogynistic bullshit and we all need to band together as a gender and just refuse to propagate the species until our demands are met, which include but are not limited to: no taxes on feminine hygiene items, a definitive answer from the medical community regarding the synthetic hormone issue with menopause (and seriously, if every man had to choose between taking hormones and getting cancer and not taking hormones and getting heart disease, I truly believe there would be a better solution right now), and the inalienable right to sucker-punch any man who tries to blame any strong feelings that we have on PMS.

ANYWAY, here's the crafty insurance company crap-they'll cover the vaccine, but not the initial consultation that is required before you are allowed to get the vaccine. Apparently this is happening a lot. And it makes no sense because all the consultation entails is the doctor saying "this is the vaccine and this is what it does and this is what you should expect." And you can't refuse the consultation. And even if you could, I don't think many nurses are in the habit of just barging into a room and stabbing you in the forearm with a needle that contains some kind of mystery vaccine that you never requested. Although picture how badass that would be. It would certainly keep you on your toes; no time for reading back issues of Highlights when a nurse could pop up at any second and stick a needle in you.

While we're on the subject of ass-backwardness, I need to tell you what happened last night. I had what must officially be my Grossest Movie-going Experience In The Land, And That's Saying Something As I Have Been To A Billion Movies. So my brother and I go to see Shrek 3 (not bad, although should I be weirded out that I am still attracted to John Krasinski even when he's in animated form?) and out of the corner of my eye I see a girl in the row behind me put her feet on the chair next to me. Now, do I sometimes put my feet on chairs in the movies? Yes, especially when I go to one of the older theaters that don't have the stadium seats and I can put my legs over the chair in front of me and basically rest my feet on the seat and say Ha Ha Ha all of you short people are JEALOUS of my lengthy limbs. Do I ever do it if someone is sitting in the seat next to it? NO, never ever. But I am aware that most people do not have my unparalleled etiquette and class, so whatever. But THEN, oh my lord, Internet, THEN I glanced over and noticed....PRINCESS NASTY-ASS BEHIND ME HAS TAKEN OFF HER SHOES AND IS PUTTING HER NASTY-ASS BARE FEET MERE INCHES AWAY FROM MY FACE. I almost threw up all over the theater. So what did I do? Stood up and moved to the seat on the other side of my brother. I should have said something, but it's not my style. No, I prefer the more subtle, passive-aggressive approach of being so preoccupied with glaring at her and silently wishing that she'd get foot herpes or at least a good Gummi Bear-related infection that I have no clue what happened in the second half of the movie. As if I didn't hate this disgusting person and her friends enough as it was, I had to endure this conversation during the closing credits:

Nasty Girl: Wow, some of those references just went right over my head.
Nasty's Male Friend: I know. I think some of them were from movies in the 70's.
Nasty Girl: Who is John Cleese?
Me: You have got to be kidding me.
Nasty's Friend: Umm...not sure.
Me: Oh my God, I am going to be sick again
Nasty's Friend: Oh, isn't he from Monty Python?
Nasty: No, I don't think so.
Me: (nothing, as my head has exploded)

Karma is going to kick her in the teeth for a.) being so GROSS and INCONSIDERATE and b.)being so unappreciative of comedic talent. Also, to the best of my knowledge there is no current vaccine for foot herpes, and even if there was, I doubt very highly that insurance will cover it.

I'd love to turn you on

I just wasted an hour of my life watching "The 20 Sexiest Scenes" on Bravo. I disagreed with 90% of that crap*. First of all, I thought Ghost was great until I stopped being 13 and realized that a.) if a man that I said "I love you" to ever responded with "ditto", I'd be the one making him turn into a ghost and b.) ain't nothing sexy about getting clay in your underwear. The only thing I'll give them is the train scene in Risky Business; I forgot how cute pre-crazy Tom Cruise was.

So the countdown was hosted by Kathleen Turner. Guess what sexy movie moment is number one? I absolutely ABHOR Body Heat. That famous scene with Turner and William Hurt contains two of the things that I hate most in this world- moustaches (unless you're 1980's Tim Curry, don't come near me with that crap on your lip) and sweat. Plus the whole Hurt breaking through the window to get to Turner? No. No no no. There's a door right there, dude.


*man, am I glad I didn't admit that one of my favorite movie sex scenes of all time is the part in Clay Pigeons where Vince Vaughn is drinking a beer wearing only a cowboy hat and boxer-briefs, because it's right before his character, who's a serial killer, stabs that chick. And if I told you that, you might think I was weird.

Could this show BE any less entertaining?

Because there IS a God and he apparently hates trite, pretentious drivel as much as I do, the buzz on the street is that my TV show nemesis (yes, I have one), Studio Crap on the Sunset Strip, has been officially cancelled. If you never got the chance to see this gem, here's all you need to know:

-It's written by people who have never actually heard real human dialogue (wait-you mean people DON'T speak exclusively in rehearsed, quick-fire banter and contrived, 10 minute long soliloquies?)

- It was about a SNL-esque comedy sketch show and we were told countless times how hilarious and awesome this sketch show was, and yet there was one problem; the sketches that they showed were kind of amazingly un-funny. Like jokes about Tom Cruise and Scientology a good year after the Today Show debacle.

-In an effort to appear more high-brow, this show used more obscure television references than anyone watching would ever know what to do with. And seriously, guys; I KNOW obscure pop culture*. Believe me. If I don't get it, chances are most people won't get it, and then we have an "Emperor's New Clothes" situation where no one wants to admit that we don't know what the hell they're talking about.

-Lead actress Sarah Paulson is nowhere near as charming as she thinks she is and no one will tell her.

I'm sorry, but those who say "NO, everybody just doesn't understand it because it is GENIUS and SO SMART and you are all just too dumb for it!" are just people who are overcompensating because they didn't get Arrested Development (may you rest in peace, you beautiful, beautiful show). I get it, and "it" totally sucks.



*not so obscure, but did you get the Chandler Bing (played by Matthew Perry, who was on Studio 60) reference in the title of this post? Yeah. That's the kind of quality stuff you get when you read my blog, people. You're welcome.

Can we talk about how I think I broke my nose with my laptop?

Because really, I think I broke my nose with my laptop.

First of all-my laptop is HEAVY. It's not some ancient model from 20 years ago (I've had it for like a year), but it's an hp and it is heavy as hell. With pointed corners. Somehow, while getting into bed last night and trying to pull my computer up so I could watch something on it, it got too heavy for my arm and it ended up smashing me right on the bridge of my nose. Cursing, crying, and bleeding ensued.

Seriously, I feel like such an ass injuring myself this way. It's even funnier when you consider all of the activities that I had done earlier that evening that have extremely high nose-injuring potential; wrestling with my 95 pound dog, crazy pilates moves, basketball with my brother (in which I decided that elbowing, tripping, and kicking was allowed). Then again, I'm the chick who got a black eye in 5th grade during a jump-rope-a-thon, not from an actual jump rope, but from some girl hitting me in the cheek bone with the top of her head.




I tried to document the damage with my camera phone, but was less than successful-you can kind of see the mark right on the bridge and the darkness under my eyes, but not really.

At least it's better than this one, in which I have no nose at all and look like an anime version of myself.

OH MY GOD I DON'T WANT TO LOOK LIKE OWEN WILSON.

Sorry, the freak-outs are coming waves.