1. I think popcorn mixed with Junior Mints is a perfectly suitable dinner.
2. I don't believe in umbrellas (or pneumonia, apparently).
3. I take Flintstones vitamins.
4. My father does my taxes.
5. It takes everything in me not to blow my monthly car payments on trips to Target
6. It takes everything that's left not to blow my student loan payments at Target.
7. I don't own a single pair of shoes that might be deemed "sensible".
8. I spent $20 on a pilates mat after doing it twice (in my defense, I've been doing it for over a month now and love it).
9. I don't wear a watch.
10. I drive way too fast.
11. I sometimes decide that my almost waist-length hair needs deep-conditioning at weird times.
12. Like 2 am.
13. On a Wednesday night.
14. I wait until my inhaler is completely empty to refill it.
15. When I stub my toe (and it happens a lot, I have pontoon boats attached to my ankles) I curse like a sailor.
16. I spend a lot of time lying on carpets with my gigantic dog.
17. I don't own an iron (that's what a steamed-up bathroom is for, cello).
18. I cry at any movie that's remotely sad (and "Tears in Heaven" by Clapton makes me straight up lose my shit).
19. If I lose a button, I toss out the shirt.
20. Goldfish crackers are a staple in my diet (they're shaped like fish, ya'll!!)
21. I forget that there are windows in my basement. Which wouldn't be an issue were it not for my penchant for emulating Tom Cruise in Risky Business at times.
22. I ran out of checks a month ago and have yet to re-order.
23. I like to blow bubbles.
24. I look too damn young and beautiful.
Happy 24th birthday to me. How the hell was this allowed to happen?
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
The newest, hottest excuse for the lack of blogging is....
...allergies have kicked my ass all over the place. I admit defeat. Pollen, you are the victor. You now own my nasal passages, and all of the riches within (basically, just pounds of pollen that I have unwittingly inhaled). I don't remember allergy season ever being this bad, but then I have selective memories about unpleasant things (like when Natalie and I go to the classy Cinema DeLux and always think that getting cheese fries sounds like the best idea ever, until one of us reminds the other of the ONE time when we actually got them and they were the grossest things on the planet-we should have known though, the orange "cheese" that melted through the plastic container should have been a give-away).
This is my first springtime back in the DC area in six years, and I never had any issues in Indiana with this. In fact, April would always be when I'd crank back the moon-roof in Big Red (awww, I need to do a post about him) and blast some vintage Byrds or Dead (I like to give the old hippies a thrill). All that I remembered from springtime in Washington was cherry blossoms! And flip-flops! And lovely afternoons spent frolicking in fields and weaving daisies through my long, flowy hair! And now I realize that I never used to get to see the cherry blossoms because of the effing tourists, flip-flops are a no-go until I can get that pedicure that I can't afford because Christ, being a grown-up is pricey, and I wouldn't know how to find a field or identify a daisy if my life depended on it.
I have redecorated for spring, though; I've had to move my alarm clock off my nightstand to make room for, and I'm not kidding, the following drugs: Restasis and Optivar eye-drops, Zyrtec, my super huge dosed Flovent inhalor, Flonase, some weird antihistamine nose-spray who's name I can't pronounce, Echinacea, Flinstones chewable vitamins, and an economy pack of Aloe-infused Kleenex.
The guy at the CVS pharmacy drive-thru KNOWS ME BY NAME.
This is my first springtime back in the DC area in six years, and I never had any issues in Indiana with this. In fact, April would always be when I'd crank back the moon-roof in Big Red (awww, I need to do a post about him) and blast some vintage Byrds or Dead (I like to give the old hippies a thrill). All that I remembered from springtime in Washington was cherry blossoms! And flip-flops! And lovely afternoons spent frolicking in fields and weaving daisies through my long, flowy hair! And now I realize that I never used to get to see the cherry blossoms because of the effing tourists, flip-flops are a no-go until I can get that pedicure that I can't afford because Christ, being a grown-up is pricey, and I wouldn't know how to find a field or identify a daisy if my life depended on it.
I have redecorated for spring, though; I've had to move my alarm clock off my nightstand to make room for, and I'm not kidding, the following drugs: Restasis and Optivar eye-drops, Zyrtec, my super huge dosed Flovent inhalor, Flonase, some weird antihistamine nose-spray who's name I can't pronounce, Echinacea, Flinstones chewable vitamins, and an economy pack of Aloe-infused Kleenex.
The guy at the CVS pharmacy drive-thru KNOWS ME BY NAME.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
I blame the mafia's little-known tacky sculpture division for this
I suppose that if you live anywhere else on the planet, then the following license place would not give you pause. However, when you're stuck behind it in rush-hour traffic a mere mile away from the White House, it is cause for concern...
I mean, I know it's not THE Cheneys (although I'm sure that they too are fans of West Springfield Spartan cheerleading), but still. Oh, also! Speaking of the Beltway! WERE ANY OF YOU JERKS PLANNING ON TELLING ME THAT THE ENTRANCE FOR 395 TOWARDS WASHINGTON CHANGED FROM A LEFT EXIT TO A RIGHT EXIT? When did this happen?!?! I have enough trouble getting to D.C. without VDOT or whoever authorized such a change messing with my universe.
After taking that picture off my phone, I decided to unload a few other choice images that I have been snapping lately. Behold!
My new most loathed bumper sticker. The position was previously held by the one that I've seen everywhere lately that reads "I'd rather go hunting with Dick Cheney than driving with Ted Kennedy." First of all, Ted Kennedy is a senator. A senator's deadly car accident from BEFORE I WAS EVEN BORN-NAY, BEFORE MY PARENTS WERE OF LEGAL DRIVING AGE) is not funnier than the VICE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES SHOOTING AN OLD MAN IN THE FACE. It's just not. But no, this sticker is far grosser. Basically this guy is saying "instead of being appreciative of hybrids and the fact that they are helping off-set the environmental damage being put out by my SUV, I will make fun of them because they aren't as cool as my bad-ass Nissan." I'm fairly certain that the type of person who would put this on his car sports one during election season that says "voting is gay" or something of the like. Also, they make hybrid SUV's, you ass.
I'm an imaginative person, and I'm hard-pressed to think of a worse way to go than Fergie killing you with her "sexy". I don't know for a fact, but I'm willing to bet it has something to do with blunt-force trauma, possibly utilizing her "humps", and that makes me want to throw up a little bit.
You know what's missing from the new unbelievably over-priced condos in Fair Lakes? Giant horse heads made of marble. NOW they're classy.
Monday, April 16, 2007
What can you say, really? It's inconceivable, but in a sick and macabre way, not that surprising.
Everything that I try to write here comes out awkward and wrong. I'm afraid of offending people. And who can you blame this on, really? Should the campus have been put on lock-down, possibly trapping a killer inside a dorm with kids in it? Should classes have been cancelled after the first shooting so they could choose to stay home, or would that have put more students milling around outside where they could be easy targets? There's nothing to say. The word "tragic" barely does it's job.
No one wants to read my opinions on this, and I can't do it adequately, so I won't. I'll blog about something mildly entertaining and give you some lukewarm comedic distractions later in the week. Right now it's back to obsessive CNN watching and staring sadly as my kids at school color mermaids and play basketball and laugh, because I don't want their world to be one where these things happen.
This world sometimes sucks, and that's all there is to it. Sometimes it sucks in a funny, "our president gets injured while eating a pretzel" way, sometimes it sucks in an unbearable way. This is clearly the latter.
To the people that I love who are Tech alumni, I'm so, so sorry.
Everything that I try to write here comes out awkward and wrong. I'm afraid of offending people. And who can you blame this on, really? Should the campus have been put on lock-down, possibly trapping a killer inside a dorm with kids in it? Should classes have been cancelled after the first shooting so they could choose to stay home, or would that have put more students milling around outside where they could be easy targets? There's nothing to say. The word "tragic" barely does it's job.
No one wants to read my opinions on this, and I can't do it adequately, so I won't. I'll blog about something mildly entertaining and give you some lukewarm comedic distractions later in the week. Right now it's back to obsessive CNN watching and staring sadly as my kids at school color mermaids and play basketball and laugh, because I don't want their world to be one where these things happen.
This world sometimes sucks, and that's all there is to it. Sometimes it sucks in a funny, "our president gets injured while eating a pretzel" way, sometimes it sucks in an unbearable way. This is clearly the latter.
To the people that I love who are Tech alumni, I'm so, so sorry.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Wow, you look great today! Now please give me your money
Well Internet, I am sick again for the FOURTH time in THREE months. Would these be drastic times? Because I see a need for drastic measures in the near future. I think I need to date a doctor. Or maybe a shaman. But I think the chances of me finding a nice Jewish shaman are slim to none.
I KNOW it's because I work with kids, kids who, although very, very cute, are apparently nothing more than festering vessels of germs and bacteria and, yes, snot (that's a medical term, do keep up). And I KNOW that when the kindergartner with the 512 degree fever starts crying and shivering, you're supposed to just stand 50 feet away and yell to them that their mom is on her way, while spraying them mace style with the Lysol. How do I end up every single time? With my arm around them, holding cool paper towels to their forehead while they rub tears and snot into my shirt and cough almost directly into my mouth. Whatever. Sooner or later I will become immune to every cold that's ever roamed the earth and who will be laughing then?
But that is not the point of this post. Once, every 17 years or so, I take a break from whining about my own minor and largely insignificant problems and support a cause that actually matters. This Sunday, I will be participating in the 19th Annual MS (Multiple Sclerosis) Walk. This is important for you to know for three reasons:
1. I am waking up early on a Sunday morning and doing a physical activity (and while getting up at 11 and sitting on a bench at the dog park drinking a latte-my usual Sunday morning ritual- requires me to PHYSICALLY get out of bed and get to that bench, it's not too active)
2. I'm doing this because one of my favorite people in the world was diagnosed with MS last spring (more on that later) and I think that sucks.
3. I'm about to ask you for money.
This disease is scary because it a.) affects the brain and nervous system b.) there's no cure c.) it's unpredictable, and we know embarrassingly little about it. When my friend (who I was going to mention by name and link to her blog, but she's not online and maybe she doesn't want me blasting her personal business all over the world) was diagnosed about two months before we graduated from college, she thought that she had a pinched nerve in her arm or just some strange malady that would clear up on it's own. She had to put her life on hold to deal with this, postponing her move to Israel (she's studying to be a rabbi) for a year. She's going to go on to do amazing things with her life and impact many, many people, and my wish for her is that we find a cure for this thing so that she can go do those amazing things and help those people without having to worry about an MS flare-up.
So now is when I guilt you into giving me your money. This is hard because I hate asking friends to give me cash (I was the lame girl scout who sent her cookie order form with her father to work so he could sell them for her), especially when most of my friends are just starting out in their jobs and disposable income is not readily available. But when I say that I'd appreciate ANY amount that you can give, I mean it. While large donations are great and will help me reach my goal faster, I'd really love to have a lot of people giving whatever they can spare, even if you think it's a small amount. The woman that I'm doing this in honor of is ridiculously self-less (the summer after I graduated from high-school I whined and complained because I had painted the windows of Big Red to celebrate, but since I left it on too long, it baked in the 890 degree weather and I couldn't get the "Hell yeah, Class of 2001!"'s off my car. One day while I was at work she went out in the sweltering heat during her break and scraped it all off for me. If you're not impressed by this, clearly you've never been to D.C. in August) and I'd love for her to be able to see a list of people who don't even know her acting in an equally self-less way.
SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GO TO MY PERSONAL PAGE HERE AND DONATE WHATEVER YOU CAN. It's super fast and easy to do and I will appreciate it forever and ever and when you're super successful and famous (and I don't know how you won't be, as you are so gorgeous and thin and talented and have a sparkling personality*) and I am asked to comment about you on a "Before They Were Stars" type show, I will speak of you favorably.
*The best part of my sucking-up is the subtlety, yes?
I KNOW it's because I work with kids, kids who, although very, very cute, are apparently nothing more than festering vessels of germs and bacteria and, yes, snot (that's a medical term, do keep up). And I KNOW that when the kindergartner with the 512 degree fever starts crying and shivering, you're supposed to just stand 50 feet away and yell to them that their mom is on her way, while spraying them mace style with the Lysol. How do I end up every single time? With my arm around them, holding cool paper towels to their forehead while they rub tears and snot into my shirt and cough almost directly into my mouth. Whatever. Sooner or later I will become immune to every cold that's ever roamed the earth and who will be laughing then?
But that is not the point of this post. Once, every 17 years or so, I take a break from whining about my own minor and largely insignificant problems and support a cause that actually matters. This Sunday, I will be participating in the 19th Annual MS (Multiple Sclerosis) Walk. This is important for you to know for three reasons:
1. I am waking up early on a Sunday morning and doing a physical activity (and while getting up at 11 and sitting on a bench at the dog park drinking a latte-my usual Sunday morning ritual- requires me to PHYSICALLY get out of bed and get to that bench, it's not too active)
2. I'm doing this because one of my favorite people in the world was diagnosed with MS last spring (more on that later) and I think that sucks.
3. I'm about to ask you for money.
This disease is scary because it a.) affects the brain and nervous system b.) there's no cure c.) it's unpredictable, and we know embarrassingly little about it. When my friend (who I was going to mention by name and link to her blog, but she's not online and maybe she doesn't want me blasting her personal business all over the world) was diagnosed about two months before we graduated from college, she thought that she had a pinched nerve in her arm or just some strange malady that would clear up on it's own. She had to put her life on hold to deal with this, postponing her move to Israel (she's studying to be a rabbi) for a year. She's going to go on to do amazing things with her life and impact many, many people, and my wish for her is that we find a cure for this thing so that she can go do those amazing things and help those people without having to worry about an MS flare-up.
So now is when I guilt you into giving me your money. This is hard because I hate asking friends to give me cash (I was the lame girl scout who sent her cookie order form with her father to work so he could sell them for her), especially when most of my friends are just starting out in their jobs and disposable income is not readily available. But when I say that I'd appreciate ANY amount that you can give, I mean it. While large donations are great and will help me reach my goal faster, I'd really love to have a lot of people giving whatever they can spare, even if you think it's a small amount. The woman that I'm doing this in honor of is ridiculously self-less (the summer after I graduated from high-school I whined and complained because I had painted the windows of Big Red to celebrate, but since I left it on too long, it baked in the 890 degree weather and I couldn't get the "Hell yeah, Class of 2001!"'s off my car. One day while I was at work she went out in the sweltering heat during her break and scraped it all off for me. If you're not impressed by this, clearly you've never been to D.C. in August) and I'd love for her to be able to see a list of people who don't even know her acting in an equally self-less way.
SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GO TO MY PERSONAL PAGE HERE AND DONATE WHATEVER YOU CAN. It's super fast and easy to do and I will appreciate it forever and ever and when you're super successful and famous (and I don't know how you won't be, as you are so gorgeous and thin and talented and have a sparkling personality*) and I am asked to comment about you on a "Before They Were Stars" type show, I will speak of you favorably.
*The best part of my sucking-up is the subtlety, yes?
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Feel the burn
I am capable of many things. Apparently pilates and getting my 92 pound dog to drink medicine from a syringe are not two of those things.
The dog thing is fairly self explanatory. Earlier this evening, upon discovering that the cable On Demand thing has free workout shows, I attempted to do pilates. This was a terrible, terrible mistake. Because while it looks like the most boring, grandma exercise program one could imagine, it is RIDICULOUSLY hard. Like I'm scared to go to sleep because I know that when I wake up my "core" will be killing me (I know what you're thinking, and yes; "core" is a made up term that pilatists use to make me feel guilty for not doing their exercises, because if the "core" is the center of everything and you've merely been working on your abs then you are a terrible human being). And now I'm freaking out because thinking back on it, I could have easily broken my spine. Like the chances of my "form" or whatever the crap they call it being correct is slim to none.
Speaking of things my dog would never, ever let me do with him AND speaking of exercises that my body would never allow me do with it, please read this article on yoga for dogs. Not because it's terribly informative, but because one of the women quoted in it is actually named Eve Holt, and, if you're a die-hard Arrested Development fan like myself, you will appreciate that ("when that one gets pregnant, it STAYS pregnant").
The dog thing is fairly self explanatory. Earlier this evening, upon discovering that the cable On Demand thing has free workout shows, I attempted to do pilates. This was a terrible, terrible mistake. Because while it looks like the most boring, grandma exercise program one could imagine, it is RIDICULOUSLY hard. Like I'm scared to go to sleep because I know that when I wake up my "core" will be killing me (I know what you're thinking, and yes; "core" is a made up term that pilatists use to make me feel guilty for not doing their exercises, because if the "core" is the center of everything and you've merely been working on your abs then you are a terrible human being). And now I'm freaking out because thinking back on it, I could have easily broken my spine. Like the chances of my "form" or whatever the crap they call it being correct is slim to none.
Speaking of things my dog would never, ever let me do with him AND speaking of exercises that my body would never allow me do with it, please read this article on yoga for dogs. Not because it's terribly informative, but because one of the women quoted in it is actually named Eve Holt, and, if you're a die-hard Arrested Development fan like myself, you will appreciate that ("when that one gets pregnant, it STAYS pregnant").
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Phoning it in...
I know it's old news, but I don't think I ever really got to express how much I hated the color of this dress. It haunts my dreams.Upon further review of my previous blog entry, I find it to be lacking. The truth is that my heart just hasn't been in it lately. I've been distracted. On the 20th, I got insanely good news. Like when I am nervous/excited, I pace. And when I received aforementioned news, I spent literally 45 minutes doing figure eights around my basement while talking on my cell phone. Because this was something that I really really REALLY wanted to happen, but I truthfully never believed actually would. And I can't really discuss it here YET. It's not a secret-if you know me, IM, call or e-mail and I'll tell you. It's just not something that I can really post about right now. Let's say by the beginning of June this news will be bloggable.
IN THE MEANTIME, let's talk about Passover. Passover makes me a little crazy. 347 days of the year I don't really care about Wheat Thins and beer. But as soon as the time hit today when I had to switch over to strictly Passover food, that's all that I wanted to eat. If you're not familiar with Passover food, then consider yourself (and your digestive tract) lucky. Basically they take a food and, although all they really need to do is remove the corn syrup, just ruin the crap out of it. Like I'm convinced they add sawdust and chalk to stuff. I'm working on some solid proof.
Plus I'm not big on the Passover story; although I appreciate the gesture, I'm not entirely convinced that wandering in the desert for four decades was some big prize (GOD PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME, OK? THANKS). That is just an unnecessary long length of time. It's like if you start wandering when The White Album is released, and you're still wandering today with a good two, three more years to go (yes, I used a Beatles reference when discussing the Exodus. Whatever. I plan to continue to do so at even less appropriate times. Like when my first child gets married I will say "Honey, I'm so proud of you-as proud as George Martin must have been when Please Please Me reached number one on the charts.")
IN THE MEANTIME, let's talk about Passover. Passover makes me a little crazy. 347 days of the year I don't really care about Wheat Thins and beer. But as soon as the time hit today when I had to switch over to strictly Passover food, that's all that I wanted to eat. If you're not familiar with Passover food, then consider yourself (and your digestive tract) lucky. Basically they take a food and, although all they really need to do is remove the corn syrup, just ruin the crap out of it. Like I'm convinced they add sawdust and chalk to stuff. I'm working on some solid proof.
Plus I'm not big on the Passover story; although I appreciate the gesture, I'm not entirely convinced that wandering in the desert for four decades was some big prize (GOD PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME, OK? THANKS). That is just an unnecessary long length of time. It's like if you start wandering when The White Album is released, and you're still wandering today with a good two, three more years to go (yes, I used a Beatles reference when discussing the Exodus. Whatever. I plan to continue to do so at even less appropriate times. Like when my first child gets married I will say "Honey, I'm so proud of you-as proud as George Martin must have been when Please Please Me reached number one on the charts.")
On yet another unrelated note, I had Florida winning the whole thing so yay me! Though my bracket did take a little bruising towards the middle of the tournament (SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE MOTHER HELL NOTRE DAME-YOU ARE THE FIGHTING IRISH AND YOU LOST THE DAY BEFORE ST. PATRICK'S DAY. UNCOOL), I ended up doing pretty well.
Eight Embarassing Facts About Jenn
1. I have a minor yet palpable crush on Toby from The Office.
2. I knit. As in scarves and blankets. In my defense, I do it while watching TV because my inability to focus on one thing prohibits me from just sitting there watching the screen. I have to be doing something else.
3. I'm scared of Ferris wheels, revolving doors, and car accidents. When I was like 15, I for some reason became really scared of vampires and I'd constantly check my closet doors. I'm not sure why I was IN HIGH-SCHOOL and afraid of vampires, or why I thought vampires hid in closets, but there you go.
4. I have a semi-serious fight with my pharmacy at least once every two weeks. Those people are just. KILLING ME. Part of the problem stems from the fact that they have two separate accounts for me in their system that I have been trying to get them to fix for about FIVE years now (when I went to school in Indiana, the pharmacy in Bloomington started a new profile for me or something), so every time I call and tell them I need a refill they'll be like "oh, no, you don't have any refills" and I'll say "yes I do, you're looking at the wrong account" and then they'll say no and then I will burst a blood vessel. In January the pharmacist actually made me cry when, because of some stupid loophole in their ridiculous policy, even though I had three refills left on my inhaler I couldn't fill them without a new scrip from my doctor. I cried and there was an uncomfortable silence and I hung up on him.
5. Speaking of which, I'm a total crier in general. I cry at movies, songs, during normal, adult arguments. I cried at the end of every single summer that I worked as a camp counselor. My most embarrassing cry had to be when Billy died on Ally McBeal. But I'm not sure that the crying was what's embarrassing about that story, or the fact that I was still watching Ally McBeal a good three seasons after the rest of the world stopped caring.
6. I don't know why, but I'm rooting for Tori Spelling. I'm glad that she's reconciling with her mom and that she has a new baby and I think that she's actually a good person with an unfortunate boob job.
7. And speaking of even more embarrassing prime time TV moments in my life, I was hardcore into 90210 when I was in 7th grade and I totally watched the Very Special Episode when Donna finally loses her Last Living Virgin In Beverly Hills title to David the night of their college graduation (and I remember she was wearing this ridiculously gaudy all-white lingerie and there were a billion candles everywhere-it kind of looked like some kind of cult ritual).
8. I have really bad road rage. I yell and I curse and I lean on my horn and I sometimes, SOMETIMES extend my middle finger (I wait until I've sped away angrily and the other driver can't see, but still). People here are TERRIBLE TERRIBLE DRIVERS. It's no one's fault, actually. It's just really unfortunate that all of these poor people were tricked into buying cars without turn signals. Because what other reason could they possibly have for not letting me know when they plan to enter my lane at 70mph on the beltway?
2. I knit. As in scarves and blankets. In my defense, I do it while watching TV because my inability to focus on one thing prohibits me from just sitting there watching the screen. I have to be doing something else.
3. I'm scared of Ferris wheels, revolving doors, and car accidents. When I was like 15, I for some reason became really scared of vampires and I'd constantly check my closet doors. I'm not sure why I was IN HIGH-SCHOOL and afraid of vampires, or why I thought vampires hid in closets, but there you go.
4. I have a semi-serious fight with my pharmacy at least once every two weeks. Those people are just. KILLING ME. Part of the problem stems from the fact that they have two separate accounts for me in their system that I have been trying to get them to fix for about FIVE years now (when I went to school in Indiana, the pharmacy in Bloomington started a new profile for me or something), so every time I call and tell them I need a refill they'll be like "oh, no, you don't have any refills" and I'll say "yes I do, you're looking at the wrong account" and then they'll say no and then I will burst a blood vessel. In January the pharmacist actually made me cry when, because of some stupid loophole in their ridiculous policy, even though I had three refills left on my inhaler I couldn't fill them without a new scrip from my doctor. I cried and there was an uncomfortable silence and I hung up on him.
5. Speaking of which, I'm a total crier in general. I cry at movies, songs, during normal, adult arguments. I cried at the end of every single summer that I worked as a camp counselor. My most embarrassing cry had to be when Billy died on Ally McBeal. But I'm not sure that the crying was what's embarrassing about that story, or the fact that I was still watching Ally McBeal a good three seasons after the rest of the world stopped caring.
6. I don't know why, but I'm rooting for Tori Spelling. I'm glad that she's reconciling with her mom and that she has a new baby and I think that she's actually a good person with an unfortunate boob job.
7. And speaking of even more embarrassing prime time TV moments in my life, I was hardcore into 90210 when I was in 7th grade and I totally watched the Very Special Episode when Donna finally loses her Last Living Virgin In Beverly Hills title to David the night of their college graduation (and I remember she was wearing this ridiculously gaudy all-white lingerie and there were a billion candles everywhere-it kind of looked like some kind of cult ritual).
8. I have really bad road rage. I yell and I curse and I lean on my horn and I sometimes, SOMETIMES extend my middle finger (I wait until I've sped away angrily and the other driver can't see, but still). People here are TERRIBLE TERRIBLE DRIVERS. It's no one's fault, actually. It's just really unfortunate that all of these poor people were tricked into buying cars without turn signals. Because what other reason could they possibly have for not letting me know when they plan to enter my lane at 70mph on the beltway?
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Thinking up a title is requiring more energy than I'm willing to expend...
Ever since it was revealed that Callie's real name is Calliope, I have a hard time watching Grey's Anatomy without singing Bruce Springsteen's "Blinded by the Light" ("with this very unpleasin', sneezin' and wheezin, the calliope crashed to the ground"). I know what you're thinking, but you'd be wrong; though Manfred Mann's version is the more oft-played one, it was originally written and recorded by The Boss.
And this, friends, is exactly why I've been AWOL from blogging lately. I HAVE NOTHING AT ALL INTERESTING TO SAY.
I'm going to go ahead and blame this on my having to quit caffeine. I'm blaming everything on this. When my doctor told me I should (oh, and ps-it's not for anything scary, like heart problems or blood pressure or migraines, just something that I don't feel like I need to broadcast all over the world wide web), I literally felt a panic attack coming on, like my cheeks flushed and I could feel my heart beating in my ears. I have to be AT WORK and LUCID at 7am IN THE MORNING, in OAKTON WHICH IS VERY VERY VERY VERY FAR AWAY. OH AND HAVE WE TALKED ABOUT MY SLEEPING ISSUES, WHICH CAUSE ME TO GO TO BED AT LIKE 3? BECAUSE SERIOUSLY, THAT'S A FACT. Prior to last Friday (and I basically quit cold turkey, which we'll talk about more in a minute), my routine was this: drink one can of Starbucks iced light coffee at 6:30 am in the car, drink one can of Diet Dr. Pepper at work at like 8-ish, Starbucks run sometime between 9 am and 2pm, more Dr. Pepper in the afternoon. Now that I see it written out, it seems a bit excessive. But, guys, I'm the chick who had ONE class before 11:15am all through college and it was at 9:05 in the basement of the library and I couldn't open my eyes at all, through the entire class.
Now, I quit coffee once before, but I did it gently. I started bringing a thermos of black coffee to school every morning when I was 15(this is one of the positive aspects of reaching your adult height before you're 12-not having to worry about stunting your growth. The negatives include creepy old men hitting on you and not being able to fit your legs under the desks in your 6th grade classroom). I basically stopped drinking it every day my sophomore year in college. I picked it up again when I started this job in October. I completely forgot about the withdrawal symptoms.
And because this time I'm cutting out ALL caffeine, including chocolate and diet soda, I'm feeling it harder. Last week I was SO MEAN to everyone and my head hurt and I cried at least 6 times (to be fair, one of the times was because of the headache, so there you go). It's a little easier this week, but still. Last night I actually dreamt I was drinking a regular Coke in all it's caffeinated splendor. And I had to wake up and drink water on my way to work because life. Is. Cruel.
Oh, also, drive-thru lady at the Taco Bell in Fair Lakes: I'm still not totally sure why my asking if your Diet Pepsi was caffeine free resulted in your uncontrollable laughter, but you're so very lucky that my arms weren't long enough to reach into your little window and squirt hot sauce in your eye.
And this, friends, is exactly why I've been AWOL from blogging lately. I HAVE NOTHING AT ALL INTERESTING TO SAY.
I'm going to go ahead and blame this on my having to quit caffeine. I'm blaming everything on this. When my doctor told me I should (oh, and ps-it's not for anything scary, like heart problems or blood pressure or migraines, just something that I don't feel like I need to broadcast all over the world wide web), I literally felt a panic attack coming on, like my cheeks flushed and I could feel my heart beating in my ears. I have to be AT WORK and LUCID at 7am IN THE MORNING, in OAKTON WHICH IS VERY VERY VERY VERY FAR AWAY. OH AND HAVE WE TALKED ABOUT MY SLEEPING ISSUES, WHICH CAUSE ME TO GO TO BED AT LIKE 3? BECAUSE SERIOUSLY, THAT'S A FACT. Prior to last Friday (and I basically quit cold turkey, which we'll talk about more in a minute), my routine was this: drink one can of Starbucks iced light coffee at 6:30 am in the car, drink one can of Diet Dr. Pepper at work at like 8-ish, Starbucks run sometime between 9 am and 2pm, more Dr. Pepper in the afternoon. Now that I see it written out, it seems a bit excessive. But, guys, I'm the chick who had ONE class before 11:15am all through college and it was at 9:05 in the basement of the library and I couldn't open my eyes at all, through the entire class.
Now, I quit coffee once before, but I did it gently. I started bringing a thermos of black coffee to school every morning when I was 15(this is one of the positive aspects of reaching your adult height before you're 12-not having to worry about stunting your growth. The negatives include creepy old men hitting on you and not being able to fit your legs under the desks in your 6th grade classroom). I basically stopped drinking it every day my sophomore year in college. I picked it up again when I started this job in October. I completely forgot about the withdrawal symptoms.
And because this time I'm cutting out ALL caffeine, including chocolate and diet soda, I'm feeling it harder. Last week I was SO MEAN to everyone and my head hurt and I cried at least 6 times (to be fair, one of the times was because of the headache, so there you go). It's a little easier this week, but still. Last night I actually dreamt I was drinking a regular Coke in all it's caffeinated splendor. And I had to wake up and drink water on my way to work because life. Is. Cruel.
Oh, also, drive-thru lady at the Taco Bell in Fair Lakes: I'm still not totally sure why my asking if your Diet Pepsi was caffeine free resulted in your uncontrollable laughter, but you're so very lucky that my arms weren't long enough to reach into your little window and squirt hot sauce in your eye.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
No matter how tough life gets...
...at least your hair looks better than Phil Spector's.Now, I'm not a fan of Psycho McCrazyFro. He completely mangled Let it Be (so badly that after hearing Let It Be...Naked, which was the version released a few years ago and is the album the way that Paul intended it to be, I deleted the original from my computer, and my life. So...I really showed him. I think he's really feeling it in the old wallet), and then he went all O.J. on us and killed a woman. When I saw the picture on the left from the pre-trial hearings a few years back, my eyes could not communicate to my brain what I was seeing. And while I'm no stranger to the Power of the Frizz, I find this unacceptable. Because he actually woke up in the morning AND MADE HIS HAIR DO THAT. Um, also, please imagine what it looks like when it's down. Christ.
THEN he showed up the other day (pictured at right) with his hair cut like Peter Pan. While it's an improvement, he still looks like walking crazy.
Also, Neve Campbell? Valiant effort at trying to force us to pay attention to you.
I wonder what happened to her hairstylist. Perhaps he ran. He ran so far away. He couldn't get away.Thursday, March 15, 2007
SUCK ON THAT, CAESAR
Well, it is 11:47 so I'm going to go ahead and declare my victory (unlike others...Duke*...). I have once again survived the Ides of March. So logic would dictate that Jenn=more evolutionarily (did I make that one up?) fit than Julius Caesar.
*That was mean. But IU just beat Gonzaga, I'm feeling cocky, I'm just gonna go with it.
*That was mean. But IU just beat Gonzaga, I'm feeling cocky, I'm just gonna go with it.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
"You are gifted in many ways"...
...said my fortune cookie last night. For about 3 minutes I seriously entertained the idea of calling up the restaurant from which I purchased my General Tso's tofu and trying to find out where they bought aforementioned cookies so I could drive to the factory, find the guy who writes the messages, and just hug him for an uncomfortably long length of time. I needed to hear this. Even if it's coming from a pastry, I'll take validation wherever I can get it. It's been a rough couple of weeks.
Speaking of needy, attention-hungry twenty-somethings who really don't want to do any actual work for a living, let's talk Idol, shall we? Some highlights from Tuesday's show:
-Second favorite quote of the night, courtesy of Generic Interchangeable White Girl Contestant#4: "I just go out there and try to sing every note." Lofty goal, sweetheart. When I'm walking, I try to walk every step. You need to leave now.
-First favorite quote of the night, courtesy of Ms. Abdul: "The audience doesn't know anything." Uh, here's what I do know:
Speaking of needy, attention-hungry twenty-somethings who really don't want to do any actual work for a living, let's talk Idol, shall we? Some highlights from Tuesday's show:
-Second favorite quote of the night, courtesy of Generic Interchangeable White Girl Contestant#4: "I just go out there and try to sing every note." Lofty goal, sweetheart. When I'm walking, I try to walk every step. You need to leave now.
-First favorite quote of the night, courtesy of Ms. Abdul: "The audience doesn't know anything." Uh, here's what I do know:
- In order to believe that crap about you never having been drunk in your life, I'd need to suspend my disbelief an uncomfortable amount, and abandon all laws of science and logic
- I know that you actually named an album Vibeology, though I'd be lying if i said I knew what it meant
- I know that you sang a duet with a cartoon cat.
There's nothing more to say about this.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
The Worst Blogger Ever
Don't be mad at me. Here, enjoy some Glam Rock Mick as a peace offering.ONCE AGAIN, I apologize for the lack of blogging as of late. My Internet is spotty and my personal life exploded and daylight savings time came and I got confused because last year was my first time doing it in like 5 years because Indiana never had it until last April and I've been having a bunch of bad hair days and Tide is discontinuing my laundry detergent and it's all just been a mess. Hopefully things will get back to normal this week and I can resume wasting my time (and yours) with my long-winded rantings.
Two quick things to mention for now:
1.) Maybe the manufacturer of my preventative inhaler could come up with a better system of letting me know when it's running out instead of me waking up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath and freaking out because I've haven't had an attack in over a year. That would be aces. I used to be able to tell because it would feel significantly lighter, but ever since those bastards switched to an ozone-friendly formula, I can't tell. Effing nature, man.
2.) I know that I say this a lot, but Fruit Punch flavored Crystal Light on-the-go packets will LITERALLY CHANGE YOUR LIFE. They are AMAZING. All of this time I have wasted on Raspberry Ice. These ones taste just like the fruit punch that you used to drink as a kid before you turned like eight and, if you're a female, magazines and TV told you that you had to worry about getting fat, and you were doomed to a life of drinking only boring water and Diet Coke, which, less face it, no one on this planet actually enjoys the taste of (Diet Pepsi is a little better). They also kind of stain your teeth and lips, so you might want to enjoy them in the comfort of your own home, lest you scare the people on the street.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Must be the season of the witch...
I've known about the Coulter debacle for days now, but I chose to ignore it because, much like lice need a live host, the she-beast needs publicity and attention to continue to insult our sensibilities with her fried-blond locks and cute 90's call-girl fashion choices. But now that she's going down in a fiery blaze of peroxide and hate-fueled glory, we can discuss it.
First of all, you have got to listen to the actual sound-bite to fully appreciate it. She just sounds so damn proud of herself for making a pop-culture reference (the Isaiah Washington/Grey's Anatomy thing), it's adorable. Never mind the fact that it's like months old and no one cares anymore. It's so cute to hear her try to talk about things that she thinks real humans are talking about. Oh, Ann. You're like a family pet who thinks it's a person. You're a dog. In more ways than one.
I guess my favorite part about this is that because Edwards is married and no one has really questioned his sexuality, she kind of inadvertently used "that word" in the "synonym for stupid" way. How very 5th grade of her. I think she meant it in the "not manly enough" way. You know, like how he doesn't drive drunk or shoot his old man friends in the face.
Speaking of my fave V.P. in all the land, it was revealed yesterday that they found a blood clot in Cheney's leg. They treated him at G.W. I'm shocked! Why not Walter Reed, Dick???
First of all, you have got to listen to the actual sound-bite to fully appreciate it. She just sounds so damn proud of herself for making a pop-culture reference (the Isaiah Washington/Grey's Anatomy thing), it's adorable. Never mind the fact that it's like months old and no one cares anymore. It's so cute to hear her try to talk about things that she thinks real humans are talking about. Oh, Ann. You're like a family pet who thinks it's a person. You're a dog. In more ways than one.
I guess my favorite part about this is that because Edwards is married and no one has really questioned his sexuality, she kind of inadvertently used "that word" in the "synonym for stupid" way. How very 5th grade of her. I think she meant it in the "not manly enough" way. You know, like how he doesn't drive drunk or shoot his old man friends in the face.
Speaking of my fave V.P. in all the land, it was revealed yesterday that they found a blood clot in Cheney's leg. They treated him at G.W. I'm shocked! Why not Walter Reed, Dick???
Monday, March 05, 2007
Ceftin is my Valentine
I know what you're thinking- and yes, I know that I'm two weeks late and that it's an antibiotic, but still. I need to sing it's praises. I feel 8902020 batrillion times better than I did this time last week.
DISCLAIMER: If you think that I'm a cool chick because I'm never label whore-ish and don't obsess about fashion or dumb girly things, stop reading and skip to the next paragraph. Thanks. Unfortunately, I still can't really taste or smell anything. And I am SO SAD because I got excited when I read about the new Coach fragrance in last month's Allure, and I got the cutest little sample bottle of it on this little key chain mailed to me over the weekend but I can't smell anything! And it's full of smells that I love, like sandalwood and green mandarin something that I've never really smelled but I know I'd love.
Oh, also! Mary-Kate Olsen! You are ridiculous! For some reason, the New York Times decided to give America's Favorite Living Troll Doll/Hobo a public forum in which to write an "editorial" (I use the word loosely here...read it and you'll understand) about....her favorite purse. It reads like a 2nd grade exercise on how to write a paragraph("I like frogs. Frogs are cool. And green. I really, really, really, really, really like them"). I mean, I know that the on-set Full House tutor probably wasn't exactly a world-class educator, but good lord. It's nice to know definitively how vapid she is, instead of just imagining it.
Also....
Tell me she doesn't look like exactly like Miss Havisham. If she's a style icon, than so is the pile of laundry sitting in the corner of my room right now.
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