It's Raining Men.

I WISH it was actually raining men. The title of the post is, of course, referring to the song by "The Weather Girls". There are some songs that I can't help but dance to, even when I'm in the car. ESPECIALLY when I'm in the car. This is one of the greats:



I LOVE this song. It's about the weather. It's about men. And it's wrapped up in some sassy music. All are things I enjoy tremendously. How can you go wrong with "It's Raining Men?" However, now that I've seen the video, the song has lost some of it's...panache. Aside from the dudes doing spins and jetes while wearing speedos and trenchcoats, I've found something much more troubling, dare I say, retina searing about this video.

If you're brave, pay close attention to 2:45 mark. A word of advice to those interested in making/starring in music videos: If you're sinking a bunch of money on a video, and you're a woman of significant, um...girth, please wear a goddamn bra.

Damn those games on the ol' Interweb.

My siblings, friends, co-workers and I are addicted to a stupid helicopter game on the Internet. And when I say it's stupid, I mean it. It's only slightly more advanced than Pong, but I'm ashamed to say that we can't stop playing it.

If you're strong enough to resist the little voice in your head that will justify the reasons you should play it over and over, forsaking all adult responsibilities, then give it a whirl....

Stupid Copter Game

Our office's current high score is 1672. That esteemed honor is NOT held by yours truly, unfortunately. I'm holding steady at 1267.

Now, why is it that I don't have a boyfriend?

16 Things.

I did this a few minutes ago on Facebook, and figured I could parlay it into a post on the blog. You are supposed to write 16 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 16 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. However, in this case, I'm not going to tag anyone, because I just did it to a load of people on Facebook, and that's enough tagging for one night. Enjoy my random facts....


1. I watch more YouTube than what is probably healthy for the normal person. Unlimited access to videos of Wilson Phillips and Flight of the Conchords?! Awesome.
2. I have freckles. Lots of them.
3. Before I fly anywhere, I MUST buy a bottle of water and a People magazine. Even if I don't want them.
4. I love the weather. I idolize Fritz Coleman, and have written fan mail to the Weather Channel when I was in middle school.
5. I was president of my high school show choir. That's right, lots of sequins and jazz hands. Extreme dorkery, but I wouldn't trade the memories for anything.
6. I love baseball, specifically the Dodgers.
7. I've been electrocuted.
8. My favorite beer is Blue Moon.
9. I've lived in Boston, and worked at Berklee College of Music.
10. I love to travel. Next stop on my list: New Zealand
11. I shamelessly love the Judds. I've met Naomi, and would die happy if I ever got to meet Wynonna.
12. I've recently gone back to school to study photography. Loving it, but there's not much time for anything else right now!
13. I've gone on vacation with the Barenaked Ladies, and I'm gearing up to go again in February!
14. I've memorized the entire series of Friends. In fact, I have a photographic memory when it comes to quoting movies and TV. It's sad, but true. Ask anyone.
15. I would eat mexican food for every meal if I could.
16. I've been charged by a herd of cows.

Like a ton of bricks.

Christmas is in 10 days. I leave for Jersey in less than 8. I think it might be wise to start Christmas shopping.

Crap.

A Letter to the Men of Planet Earth

Dear Dudes,

It seems to be quite challenging for you men to pee standing up. Case in point: I coordinated a wedding tonight, and at the end of the evening, I made my rounds throughout the many rooms of the villa to make sure everything is put away, picked up, and turned off. Without fail, what meets me EVERY TIME in the men's room after a 12 hour workday is the overwhelming stench of the urine of 78 strange men. On the toilet seat. On the floor. And if I'm lucky, it's on the wall too. It's just delightful. It's my favorite. Now I get that they've been to a wedding and had a few drinks, but is their aim (and judgement) THAT bad?

Question: What's so bad about peeing sitting down? Especially when you're drunk. Is it a question of masculinity? You know, it's ok. No one has to know. Try it. If it helps, take the sports section in there with you. Just treat it like you would a deuce, and SIT DOWN.

Please consider this. For my sake.

Respectfully,
Jen

I don't get it.

So, what's the big deal with the Jonas Brothers? They are huge with the teen/tweens. And evidently, the one on the left was named one of People Magazines sexiest men. MEN. Gross. These are not men. They're still infants. They look like kids with grown-up hairdos playing "Rockstar".



Does my not "getting" this craze officially mean I'm out of touch with the youth of America? That I'm an (*gasp*) old lady? Well, if that's the case, bring on the Depends and the Ben Gay.

I'll give them this...they do seem pretty squeaky clean, and I'd much rather my hypothetical children be loving them over Amy Winehouse, but still...I just don't get it.

Is this how my mother felt when my sister and I couldn't get enough of New Kids on the Block?

*NOTE: I now have "Please Don't Go Girl" in my head.

My Torrid Love Affair with Gravy.

I love gravy. LOVE IT. It's my favorite part of Thanksgiving. That being said, a highlight of this holiday is doing shots of gravy after dinner. My office pals have heard about this legend, so I let them catch my live show during our Thanksgiving potluck lunch today. It's fun to watch people's reactions to my gravy shooters. The shock value is about 25% of the reason I do the shots in the first place, but really, the other 75% is because it's SO DAMN GOOD. As I gulped it down, the same people that dumped a quart of gravy on their turkey and stuffing 20 minutes ago were squirming as they watched. Completely grossed out. But why? Gravy RULES...can you imagine Thanksgiving without it? No? Then, I rest my case. Drink up.

I can't wait for Thursday. Today was merely a warm up for Turkey Day.

QUESTION: Can Blue Shield drop me for reckless care of my arteries? I already have cholesterol issues. Off hand, I'd say my cholesterol count is hovering around 437 today.

Dang. I'm cool.

I've definitely mentioned my love for Bret and Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords, and my friends Sara and Ro love them just as much, if not more. We recently did a remake of one of their videos for an HBO contest, and before you laugh at us for our extreme dorkery, know that we won it, bitches.

Here's the original:



Now here's our remake...



I know.

I have gas.

I just filled up my tank for under $30. Ah, the silver lining in our economic craphole.

One of my quirks. JUST ONE.

Turns out, every time I cross the street, I have to hit the button twice before crossing. HAVE TO. Or I'm convinced it didn't work. Like the first pressing of the button is practice, but the second one is for realsies. Because now the crosswalk is paying attention to the fact that there really IS a pedestrian waiting, and they're serious about crossing. I realized this tonight when I was at a crosswalk with a complete stranger, and the guy hit the button only ONCE. I was surprised by my high level of uneasiness. Was this dude out of his damn MIND? But by a stroke of dumb luck, the little white man* appeared to light our way to cross the street anyway.
I'm sure it was an isolated incident. I KNOW you have to hit it twice. Right?

I know it's a short post, but it's enough weirdness and potential OCD for one night. In fact, go ahead and pretend you didn't read this. Thanks.

*NOTE: Crosswalks are totally racist.

15 things I love about staying in hotels on business trips....

On a work trip to Palm Springs last weekend, I realized how much I love a good hotel stay. I was inspired to list the reasons why this is the case....

1. The invigorating feeling I get from simply being in a hotel. I love to travel, and being in a new place makes me feel like I'm on a grand adventure. Even if the reason I'm in Palm Springs is to attend a math conference to recruit teachers. Total nerd alert.
2. Tiny Soap.
3. Free HBO.
4. Air Conditioning at whatever temperature I want...because I'm not paying the electric bill.
5. My own balcony. Where I can look down on my minions.
6. Pay-per-view movies. Charged to the room...which is paid for by my company. And no, I'm not watching porn. Sheesh.
7. There were no fewer than 10 pillows on my 2 beds. (I'm not kidding, I actually counted) I was astounded. Why does ONE Jen need so many pillows? I didn't care...I just barricaded myself with pillows. Fantastic.
8. Having the previously mentioned 2 beds to choose from. I could sleep half the night in one bed, and change to the other one if I wanted to. I didn't, but I could have.
9. Toilet paper ends folded into a triangle by housekeeping.
10. Free coffee maker in my room. Ok, I don't drink coffee, but I still think it's a terribly thoughtful perk. HA! Perk! I slay me.
11. My free copy of USA Today. It never occurs to me to read that publication any other time than at a hotel, but I'm always excited to get it.
12. Blackout curtains.
13. I don't have to make the bed in the morning.
14. A night ALONE. Total freedom. To do whatever the hell I want. Even if that means sitting around and watching TV in my PJ's all night. Because at home, sitting and watching TV makes me feel guilty, because I know I should probably be cleaning or working on something. Hotel TV watching is a gloriously guilt-free zone for me.
15. The breakfast buffet in the morning. I'm not usually a breakfast fan (I only eat it out of necessity), but I go TO TOWN at hotel buffets.

I'm really a simple soul...it really takes so little to make me happy. I hope you've enjoyed your stay at the Hotel Yen. Don't forget to tip the maid.

A Night Off....

Last weekend, I had a rare Saturday night off from wedding coordinating, so Ro and I hit up Old Town Pasadena for a night out. We had a fabulous time, as was to be expected. Ro and I joke that we can be confined to a barrel, and still manage to have fun. Some of our best times have been sitting in train stations or airports amusing each other with our stupid humor, while the rest of the people around us are bored out of their brain cells. We just choose to find humor wherever we are, and it works for us.

Our first stop of the evening was El Toreo Mexican Restaurant. Not the best meal ever, but not the worst either. So-so service. Great chile rellenos. But the highlight of our visit was not the cuisine, but rather the awesome decor on the tables....

I give you...a rose in arroz.If you can find a classier table decoration than a fake flower stuck in a vase full of rice, then you're a better person than I am.

After dinner, our evening continued at Lucky Baldwin's pub for a couple pints. Our first pint was an Arrogant Bastard, and the name of the second one doesn't come to mind, because it was too gross to bother remembering.

Here's Ro and I, with our bastards. Delish.Our last stop will be appreciated only by Willy Wonka fans (the Gene Wilder version, not Johnny Depp's). We were walking back to Ro's car when we happened upon this:
"The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!!" Unfortunately, this ice cream place was closed, so we actually don't know if the snozzberries taste like snozzberries. But I'm making it a point to find out sooner rather than later.

So that was our evening last weekend. I'm currently putting a post together about this weekend (Halloween), and I'll try to get that up soon!

The Bean.

Sometimes I miss Boston so much it hurts. Did you know I lived in Boston? Sometimes I forget I did. Not that I forget, but it seems like it was another life. Another time. Another Jen. I moved back to LA just over 6 years ago. August 2002. I have gone back to visit on several occasions, and it's like getting to relive the old memories. Whenever I'd fly out of Boston back to LA, I'd cry as the plane lifted off as it carried me back home. Every time. Like I was leaving the love of my life behind. And then, on one trip, of which I can't pinpoint, it stopped being the place I used to live, but morphed into a memory. Distant. And no matter how hard I reached, it was no longer tangible. I turned back into a visitor.

But understand this...I've grown up in LA, went to college in LA, and after I moved back here, spent the greater part of my 20's in LA. But living in Boston has made me appreciate all the great things the City of Angels has to offer. I never appreciated LA until I moved away from it. And yet, sometimes I feel like a fish out of water here. I'm not an LA person...I don't fit in with the LA 'scene'. I never have. That being said, it's home. But if ever I was in love with a city, it was Boston. I moved there in August of 2000 with 3 friends, and didn't look back. And I had a ball. I got my first job out of college as a receptionist at Berklee College of Music. I found myself. I made friends that changed my life. Some of which I still keep in touch with and love with all my heart. And others whom I still love, yet wonder where their path has led them.

I have moments when I want to go back to Boston for a month, and see if it still holds something for me. But I don't know what I'd find once I get there. The friends I had there have left, have moved on, gotten married, and some have even had babies. Will I find the same city I left behind? The happy hours at the Last Drop? Thursday nights at the Purple Shamrock? Fish and Chips at Murphy's?* Nah. It wouldn't be the same. I know the Sham would make me feel like an old lady in a sea of 22 year olds. Would I find a niche that fits me as a 30 year old as I did as a 22 year old? So much has changed. The city has probably changed. And I know I have changed.

The one thing that never changed is this picture. I will always be in love with this view :

The Mass Ave. bridge...this picture captures my experience there. Nothing special, just a typical night on the bridge. It's my favorite place in the city. To walk. To take pictures. To ponder. To stumble around drunk as a skunk. And to feel completely at home. There was something magical about my time there, and I'll always be thankful for every part of it. And I'm not sure what moved me to type this tonight...I know it's a departure from my normal rants of ridiculousness.

And it's not like I'm depressed about this, or sad with my life here. I really don't think I could ask for more. But Boston was like my first love...nothing but good memories, and sometimes it's nice to reminisce. Thanks for letting me.

* Notice how my fondest memories of Boston are in some way tied to alcohol or food? Yeah, I'm predictable.

Candy Corn and Candy Canes...really?

Election Day is November 4, and it's quickly approaching. In California, besides the choice we'll make regarding the high profile presidential election, we'll also have a pile of different propositions to vote on. The issues we'll be voting for range from transportation, to clean energy, to gay marriage. All this talk of propositions has gotten me thinking about what I'd like to see on the ballot in future elections. And there is one important piece of legislation very close to my heart that I will fight to get approved by the voting public.

The Seasonal Item Availability Referendum. On Friday afternoon, my local CVS drugstore had an ENTIRE aisle of Christmas crap on display, waiting to be snapped up by the spending public. Um, it's the middle of October...can we get through HALLOWEEN first? All I'm asking is that we celebrate one holiday at a time, and the Seasonal Item Availability Referendum is the way to make that happen. It has one simple guideline: Items for one holiday may not be displayed or put up for sale until the previous major holiday has ended. In other words, if you want an animatronic Santa for the front yard, you'll have to finish your turkey and pumpkin pie first.

People might say this is messing with people's freedom of choice, but I really don't care. It's for their own good. It feeds into the mentality of people not being present in the moment they're in. Decorations are up for SO long that by the time the actual holiday arrives, it's old news, they're already sick of it, and have moved on to what's next, rather than what's right in front of them. What it comes down to is that I find it annoying that at this very minute, I can go to CVS and grab a Halloween costume with one hand, and a set of Christmas lights with the other. And I love to bite the heads off Marshmallow Peeps as much as the next gal, but not while I'm trying to buy valentines. I know money needs to be made, but retailers need to stop. Breathe. And allow us to do the same. To live in the present.

Please join me in this fight. For the sake of the children.*

* I don't know how much this really has to do with the children (except for not wanting them to grow up to become impatient consumers), I'm just annoyed. And people tend to support stuff that's "for the sake of the children". And it's all about tugging at America's heartstrings to get legislation passed. Isn't that how the political big wigs do it?

Also, I promise I'm not a communist. I'm just a gal with an oldest child complex, with the need to control stuff. Of course, Kim Jong Il is an oldest child too. Hmmm. Maybe that's how communism began...a bunch of oldest children banding together to tell everyone what to do. It's an interesting theory. And a slight deviation from the original post regarding selling Candy Corn and Candy Canes at the same time, but I don't care. It's my blog. :)

I believe...in baseball.

I am a Dodger fan. Baseball's version of a battered wife...I get knocked down, but I keep coming back for more. I can't help it. I'm in love. I know someday they'll change, and we'll have our happy ending. We will. We HAVE to.

I'm a sucker for happy endings in movies. Whether it's the Von Trapp family climbing the Alps to freedom from the Nazis, Annie getting to stay with Daddy Warbucks, or Ron Burgundy ending up with Veronica Corningstone and landing a bitchin' network news gig, it's all fantastic. It makes my heart sing.

That's the beautiful thing about baseball. It's got all the makings of a great movie, with the eternal hope of a legendary ending. And LA has a fabulous cast: the heroes (the Dodgers), the villans (usually the Giants, but in tonight's case, the Phillies), the fearless leaders (Joe Torre and/or Tommy Lasorda), and the dynamic narrator (Vin Scully), squaring off against the backdrop of Chavez Ravine, tens of thousands of fans, and the buzz of vendors launching bags of peanuts that whiz over my head. I love it. I never grow tired of it.

And baseball is even BETTER than a movie. How, you might ask? Every game is a living, breathing movie moment. It holds the constant potential of a grandiose finish, with a double high-five celebration with your best friend, and all the while cheering for the heroes with 40,000 other people in a slow-motion montage of pure joy. Because for that moment in time, you're not just watching a movie ending...you're an active participant. You're living it. You're part of something bigger than yourself.

Tonight, my beloved Dodgers lost their quest for the National League Pennant, and the chance to go to the World Series. For the first time in LA in 20 years, we could see the World Series on the horizon. We could almost touch it. It would have been easier if we never even made it to the postseason, but that carrot was dangled right in front of us, and we almost grabbed it. ALMOST.

I was at school tonight during the final game of the NLCS. Thankfully, tonight's lab monitor set up a TV with the game on, so I periodically popped out of the darkroom to check the score. The Dodgers got pummeled. It was painful. There was no movie ending for us tonight, instead the Phillies celebrated their victory on OUR field, in front of OUR poor fans. I actually felt a little violated watching their celebration on OUR home plate. As far as I'm concerned, they might as well have simultaneously whipped it out and peed on Vin Scully. I know watching the opponent celebrate has happened to countless other teams and fans, but seeing it on my home turf bugged me. When I could no longer watch the red caps of the Phillies' players bobbing up and down in stupid happiness, I quietly shook my head in disappointment, and slipped back into the darkroom, slowly realizing that our season was over. They were so close, they'd worked so hard. And it's all over.

Dodger fans...remember this? Of course you do.



If Kirk Gibson's 1988 walk-off home run doesn't stir something in you, I can't help you. You're a damn robot. It's because of that video that I still believe in my Dodgers. Tonight was obviously not our movie ending. We had it in '88, and I have faith that this is just part of the plot build-up for the year that we finally do it again.

That's the risk we take in loving baseball...you know you might get your heart broken. But once you finally come out on top, it makes the countless let-downs worth it, because you appreciate it that much more when you finally get it. Call me dramatic if you must, but any baseball fan knows EXACTLY what I'm talking about, and has been nodding their heads while they've read this post.

Our day will come. And it could be worse. I could be a Cubs fan. That's just got to be torture. Poor Cubbies.

STILL...Top Dog.

Beverly Hills Chihuahua is STILL #1 at the box office, for the second week in a row. SOMEONE please go see Nick & Nora or The Duchess. NOW.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go light myself on fire.

Top Dog?

I'm proud to be an American. But I have to admit, when Beverly Hills Chihuahua became number 1 at the box office this weekend, I got a little embarrassed of our choice in movie-going. And I'm not against it being in theatres...I'm glad there's something for kids to see at the movies. I'm just against it being #1. America, aren't we better than this?

To be fair, I haven't seen it. Nor do I plan to. And if Ebert and Roeper come out to declare it the most important movie to hit screens since Schindler's List, this movie will still not be anything more to me than a rental. And only if I'm not paying for it.

I take a stand against the weirdest things.

By the way, Mr. Chihuahua...Indiana Jones called. He wants his font back.

Random 10:30pm craving

I have no idea why, but red Kool Aid sounds really good right now.



And don't read into this...I'm not pregnant, I just want Kool-Aid.

Missed my chance.... (UPDATED)

I've always harbored a celebrity crush for Ryan Reynolds. While his movie career has never been anything to write home about, he's adorable and funny, and that's enough for me. So when I read that he got married to Scarlett Johanssen over the weekend, I was genuinely bummed. My initial reaction was, "Crap. I've missed my shot with him." Because in my head, I was convinced I had a realistic chance at wooing him. Really, Jen? REALLY?!

Bye-bye, Ryan...we would have been so happy, you and I. But it's time to let you go.

And if we're all being honest, we've all had that split-second moment of disappointment when their celebrity crush was off the market. (Except for my friend Sara...her celebrity crush is Steve Buschemi...my bet is that she will be spared this heartache.) You know all the dudes across the US are crying about missing their chance with Scarlett. I know I'm not alone in this, I'm just the only one fessing up to it.

**UPDATE: I just IMDB'ed Steve Buschemi, and it turns out he's been married since 1987. My bad, Sara. But since 1987, I'm sure you wounds have healed. Mine are still fresh.

I ain't Karl Lagerfeld, but....

I just want to know how long I should expect "skinny jeans" to be in style. They definitely fall into the category of "throwback from the 80's that should have died with Vanilla Ice's music." I hate them. I have yet to see one person walking around in real life that those things look good on. They flatter NO ONE. And if you're reading this, thinking to yourself, "Well, this bitch doesn't know how hard I rock my skinny jeans." Sorry, Victoria Beckham, even YOU don't look good with a tapered leg. It's true.

I think what has brought this to the forefront of my world is being back in school. That's right...I'm back in school. I'm taking photography two nights a week at PCC, and I've never felt more out of touch when it comes to what I'm supposed to wear. But the great thing about being older is that I couldn't give less of a crap about what's temporarily hip.

And let's get one thing straight. This is not a jealousy thing...I'm not some bitter 30-year old that's envious of the nineteen year-olds running around in their tiny pants. I, in fact, pity their ignorance for wearing these tapered leg nightmares. All I'm thinking of when I see them is how it looks like they're strangling and suffocating their poor legs, and I want to release them from their denim prison. But trying to steal the pants off perfect strangers is what landed me in trouble the last time, and I have vowed to never see the inside of a mexican jail again.

And if you still insist on wearing skinny jeans, then I leave you with this image. Know that when you're sporting your bitchin' jeans, this is what the rest of us are seeing:


Yarf.

And on a side note, I think I just felt an earthquake. Yippee...my favorite. And I've got news for you people, earthquakes come after people in skinny jeans. Beware.

Dear Boss....

Dear Boss,

I have enjoyed working here these past several years. You have paid me very well, given me benefits beyond belief. I have 3-4 months off per year and a pension plan that will pay my salary till the day I die and a health plan that most people can only dream about. Despite this, I plan to take the next 12 -18 months to find a new position. During this time I will show up for work when it is convenient. In addition I fully expect to draw my full salary and all the other perks associated with my current job. Oh yeah, if my search for this new job proves fruitless, I will be back with no loss in pay or status. Before you say anything, remember that you have no choice in the matter. I can and will do this.

Sincerely,
Every Senator or Congressman running for President.

Try that at your job and tell me how it works out....

ESL issues at Havana Mania

Ro, Grant, and I just gorged on a HUGE dinner at Havana Mania in Redondo Beach. At the end of the meal, our waiter came to collect our three credit cards for the check, and said the following:

"You like three ways?"

Um....

We get it.

A statement to all field reporters covering Hurricane Gustav today:

It's windy. It's raining. No one is doubting that...after all, it's a hurricane. We all get it, we PROMISE. Now please go inside before you get impaled by the roof of a gas station.

Thanks,
Jen

P.S. And to Fox News, I love that you always send Geraldo Rivera to the most dangerous places on the planet, which includes to Louisiana for the hurricane. It's like you're actually trying to get him bumped off. Keep up the good work.


Label me as cold-hearted for such a statement, but his mustache drives me insane.

The Political Balancing Act.

This morning, Alaska Governor Sarah Palin has come out of the political shadows to be announced as John McCain’s VP candidate, and the first woman nominated for VP since Geralidine Ferraro in 24 years. And last night, Barack Obama gave a stirring speech in Denver to accept his presidential nomination, complete with streamers, confetti, families, and sweeping music to create the ultimate feel-good movie ending, painting Obama as America’s hero.

Now I have questions. And I should probably wait to ask them until after watching the Republican National Convention next week, but I’m compelled to write about it now, so deal with it.

I question EVERY motive of modern politics nowadays. It’s hard to decide what’s real…everything seems to be smoke and mirrors. Was Joe Biden chosen because he’s the best guy for the job? Or was he chosen as an old white guy to keep the Democratic ticket grounded and appealing to the undecided masses, because he’s the typical face America is used to seeing on a presidential ticket? And on the other side of the coin, was relatively unknown Sarah Palin only chosen because she’s a female, and could help the already old-white-guy-saturated GOP look more progressive? “See guys, we can slap a minority on our ticket, too! Ta-dah!” Don’t get me wrong, it’s about time we mixed it up in the political arena. Either we’ll have our first black president, or our first female vice-president. WOW! But I can’t help but wonder if my previous questions are true. These campaign teams have a lot of money and pride on the line to make sure their candidate wins. Are they motivated by the need to win, or the need to do what is right?

The vast majority of the American people make their decision based on a sound bite, or a knee-jerk reaction to something they think they connect with a candidate on, without doing any real research about where they actually stand on an issue or what their voting records are. I’ve been guilty of that in the past as well, but I really am trying to remedy that during this election. I’m looking for something genuine. Nothing phony or scripted. Just straight answers. That may be a pie-in-the-sky thinking, and I know that’s not the way the world works, but I’m within my rights as an American to want that.

The information out there is overwhelming, for sure. But it’s our responsibility to find out the facts. It’s up to each of us. Until we as Americans stand up and demand real facts, and actually go out and look for them, things will not change. Elections will continue to be dumbed-down for the American public, and we’ll continue to be spoon-fed attack ads, spin, finger-pointing, and candidates with perfectly crafted answers.

Soap box aside, I’m LOVING this…

www.peteyandpetunia.com/VoteHere/VoteHere.htm

Ew.

We all get porn/viagra/cialis spam emails. Tonight I couldn't help but notice the subject line of one of these emails that made me laugh out loud.

BIG WET BUTTS

Huh? What weird fetish demographic is this catering to? Wait, nevermind. I don't want to know.

The hats I wear.

Like everyone else, I wear different hats in my life...daughter, sister, friend, musician, recruiter, hooker (just making sure you're paying attention). I started thinking about my weekend job as a wedding coordinator, and about all the things that get thrown at me and my crew every week. Below is a list of all the different hats I'm prepared to wear on any given Saturday...while most of these are hopefully handled by a hired vendor or specialist, the wonders never cease as to the myriad of ridiculousness that has happened over the years. I've learned to anticipate ANYTHING. It keeps things interesting for sure, and no two weddings are alike. I have no doubt that this list will continue to grow with each passing Saturday.

Jen's Hats
-Ceremony Coordinator
-Caterer
-Babysitter
-Painter
-Doctor
-Crisis Intervention
-Locksmith
-Recruiter
-Timeline Nazi
-Vendor referral service
-Janitor
-Tour Guide
-TOTAL Bitch
-Wrangler of Drunk People
-Beekeeper
-Ass-Kisser (of Bridezillas, Momzillas, and any other 'zilla' you can imagine)
-Traffic cop
-Meteorologist
-Firefighter
-Hostess/General People Pleaser
-Plumber
-Bartender
-Waiter
-Cook
-Bride Gopher
-Place Card Alphabetizer
-Improviser Extraordinaire
-Mediator
-Supervisor
-Exterminator
-Cab Driver
-Cake Decorator/Frosting Fixer
-Electrician
-Florist
-Security Guard
-Sommelier
-DJ and MC
-Tailor
-Makeup artist
-Hairstylist

and last, but certainly not least...
-Verbal punching bag for a drunk and/or high DJ (yes, this HAS actually happened.)

With the help of my amazing crew, ALL of the things on this list have had to be put to use in one way or another over the years. I LOVE my brides (most of them, anyway), so I don't mind rolling with the punches and putting out fires. It's definitely a labor of love.

Hmm...I've never had to be a minister/officiant. Maybe I should get ordained online...it wouldn't be a bad idea.

* RANDOM WEDDING STORY: Last weekend's wedding was for a Korean family. On the guest list, there was a gentleman by the name of Dong Won, who I'd like to think was a romancer of women from the Far East. Connie Chung (unfortunately, not Maury Povich's Connie Chung) was also in attendance. I absolutely love the names I come across at these weddings.

The Olympics

I love the Olympics. Always have. This year hasn't disappointed. However, my friend Jodi astutely pointed out that all the Olympics do is make us realize how lazy us mere mortals are. And it HAS. I haven't even set foot in a gym in well over a month. My biggest accomplishment this week is that I powered down an entire container of Trader Joe's chocolate covered almonds in under 3 days, with very little help from my co-workers. Not exactly the picture of health right now.

Hell, my previous post was about donuts. I'm on a ROLL. Suck on that, Michael Phelps.

DONUT MAN!

First of all, let me say how excited I am to have internet in my house!!! We've been living here since August 1, and we FINALLY got the internet up and running. I was going through serious withdrawls. It's good to be back. Hallelujah!!!

Now, down to business....

I'm about to share a picture that would bring a tear to the eye of anyone that grew up in Glendora. It's a thing of beauty. A work of art. Here it is.... The Fresh Peach Donut from Donut Man on Route 66. These donuts are legendary. They're an institution in Glendora. It's what happens when a glazed donut and a peach pie have wild nasty sex. I was home this weekend, and my car actually flipped a u-turn completely out of my control. True story. I scarfed it down, and it was every bit as amazing as I remember. And worth every calorie, fat gram, carb, etc....

$3.89

Today I paid $3.89/gallon for gas at my local Shell station today. Lowest I've seen in a while.

Question 1:
Is it wrong that I wanted to hump the leg of my gas station attendant out of sheer joy?

Question 2:
How sad is it that the "low" price of $3.89 for a gallon of gas gets me this amped?

When I was in high school, I could buy an entire tank of gas for my Buick station wagon with a $20 bill, and still have enough change leftover to hit Del Taco afterwards. So I guess that's the kind of thing I'll be telling my grandkids. "Well, back in my day, Sonny...."

Guilty as charged.

I’m an Irish Catholic. We feel guilt. About everything. All the time. However, I've started to think about all the things I regularly feel guilty about, and I’ve realized how it’s all just too much. I’m too hard on myself, and I should cut Jen a break. AND stop talking about her in the third-person.

Below is a short list of the things I regularly feel guilty about. My friend Vrej always reminds me of my “first-world problems”. These are ALL things people only in the first-world countries would think to concern themselves with. I suppose in any other place, I’d be worrying about rape, disease, female circumcision, dictatorship, famine, etc. Of course, all this does is make me feel guilty that I even FEEL guilty about this petty shit in the first place. Thanks, Vrej.

Roll call of guilt:

-I have gone church twice during the summer. Of course the first thing I list would be Catholicism related. Naturally.

-When I’m on a date with a nice guy, and I’m not attracted to him, yet he’s into me. I beat myself up about this.

-I’m not taking enough time to understand all the current political issues in this election year. Sorry, but when your presidential candidate choices start to mirror the South Park episode when the kids have to vote between a Giant Douche and a Turd Sandwich, it’s hard to get inspired and bone up on the issues.

(**NOTE: I'm aware the South Park episode I linked above was made to make fun of the Bush/Kerry race 4 years ago, but I think it still holds true with the current race, where I honestly can't get behind either candidate. But that's a rant for another day.)

-I haven’t been to the gym in over a month.

-If I ever have to back out of plans with friends, I feel bad. REALLY bad.

-I owe at least 3 friends birthday presents.

-I’ve kept crappy contact with several of my friends lately. CLOSE friends. And in many cases, they haven’t bothered to call me either, yet I still feel bad.

-This guilt about not making contact extends to my family as well. Parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and my nearly 99-year-old grandmother. Why can’t I just think to call them and check in?

-When I don’t work hard enough, or don’t care enough about my job.

-That I don’t spend enough time with my family. Or WORSE, that I want to spend less time with them, so I can get my own stuff done.

-Guilty that I haven’t been able to properly update this silly blog, even though it’s because I get Internet access once a week right now (which incidentally, is driving me to drink.). After all, my readership has skyrocketed from 1 to 3 readers. HOW can I let you people down?

These are the things that eat away at me EVERY DAY. Some of them are pretty small, but when you pile all of them up, I'm overwhelmed. And that’s just a sample…if I sat here long enough, I could let that list grow 5x. It’s ridiculous. How does my Eucharist-taking, confession-spilling, Catholic-baptized mind become reprogrammed to let it be ok to not feel guilty about everything?

I normally try not to spend my time dwelling on the negative, but making that list was therapeutic for me. It gave me some perspective, and made me realize that I can’t be so hard on myself, and that I have to learn to let it go. Not all of it, but some of it. After all, if I didn’t worry about this stuff, what kind of a heartless robot would I be? Guilt is a vicious circle we all deal with, but it’s all about keeping that vicious circle in check.

So I guess I don't have an answer on how to stop the guilt train from making regular stops at my station. But being aware of it is a good first step.

UPDATE: Sorry everyone, I have NO idea what's going on with the font on this post. I've tried and tried to get it to be the same, and every time I hit publish, something else goes wonky. So now it's staying this way. Stupid Blogger.

Me Jen. Me Hungry. Me hurt you if you keep me from food.

Let me start this rant off by saying I notice great customer service. I appreciate it. And normally, the good people at Trader Joe’s are AWESOME at it. They make friendly conversation and witty banter, but keep things moving along to get you out the door and on your way. I think there’s nothing better than being around someone that enjoys their job, and you always seem to come across those types of people at TJ’s.

But today, I found out that there’s such a thing as too much customer service.

I went to Trader Joe’s after work to grab something to cook for dinner. I was meeting some friends for drinks later, so I was slightly pressed for time. I had my items in my basket, and proceeded to the check out lines. There were about 6 registers open, and my next decision was crucial. My mission was to pick the quickest, shortest line so I could be on my way home as soon as possible. I was tired from a long day at work, not feeling terribly social, and more importantly, I was hungry.

*Rule of thumb: DON’T. FUCK. WITH. HUNGRY. JEN.

I sized up each line, and decided to roll the dice with a checker named Lonnie. I was confident in his abilities, as it was the shortest line, and he was almost done scanning all the items of the lady in front of me. All that was left was bagging. I was home free.

Big mistake.

Lonnie was in no hurry for ANYTHING. I’d decided he must have been fresh off his 420 break when I got in his line, because that fool was 10 kinds of mellow. While it was true he was almost done scanning, he was taking his sweet time carefully packing away each item in a grocery bag at a snail’s pace, and had an interesting tidbit for every one of them to share with his customer. The customer seemed MILDLY interested, at best. Sometimes he’d pause in his already slow bagging (to my dismay) because he’d be so enamored with his story, that he had to make a point that couldn't possibly be made while doing any other activity. He seemed completely oblivious to the growing line of tired, grumpy people behind me waiting to check out.

I realized that maybe the reason his line was so short was that the other customers were wise to Lonnie before me, and therefore, chose any line but his. The basket in my hands was getting heavier, and my belly was feeling more and more empty. I started wondering how inappropriate it would really be to start gnawing through the box of Mango Mochi I was buying. At this rate, I don’t think I could wait until I got all the way home to start eating. *See rule of thumb above.

Finally, it was my turn. I’m praying I don’t have a similar exchange with dear Lonnie, that he just rings up my 6 items, and doesn’t tell me a tale about the journey my basmati rice made from a rice paddy in Thailand. Here is our exchange:

Lonnie: Hi, how you doin’ tonight?

Me: Fine, thank you. (So far, so good…keeping the conversation light)

Lonnie: So, you making a little chicken and rice tonight?

Me: Yeah.

Lonnie: Right on, right on! So, are you Cuban?

Me (looking at my pale-ass, freckled, Irish skin): Nope, just hungry.

NOTE: the other item in my basket was Yellow Curry Sauce. Why didn’t he ask me if I was Indian? Because clearly I look Cuban. Obviously, since ONLY Cubans would eat something SO outlandish as chicken and rice.

Then I felt bad for being short with him. Wrong. Should have stuck with the "Nope. Just hungry", and left it at that. But when I corrected him and told him I was Irish, he started babbling on about freckles, some sort of Irish food, and then started talking about some movie called Black Irish that I just had to see. I don’t really remember anything after that, because I blacked out.

SEE RULE OF THUMB. AGAIN.

"Chef"

Is there a better way to be immortalized? I think not.



RIP Isaac Hayes....

Public Service Announcement to Drivers

Cars get dirty. It happens. Whether it’s road dust, pollution, bird poo, tree sap, bugs, midgets, or any number of other things that fly towards our cars while we’re careening down the freeway at an accelerated speed, it’s inevitable that our cars will get dirty, no matter how awesome a wax job we might have.

I KNOW this has happened to everyone out there, because there’s no way that this happened this many times to me without it being a universal experience. Scenario:You’re on the freeway at full speed, driving behind some fool who decides that THIS is the best time to slough off the crap on their windshield. They blindly hit the ol’ washer fluid button about 13 times, and the wipers start going, spraying fluid all over the windshield, until their windshield is pristine. What these driving Neanderthals may not realize is that when they’re driving that fast, the wind sprays EVERY car in their vicinity, flinging their washer fluid and window funk everywhere. And here’s a news flash, Captain Courteous Driver. We’re not grateful for the free ‘car wash’ you’re giving us. We’re just annoyed that your nastiness is now being cast all over our clean cars. Thanks. No really…thanks. And don’t try to get out of “No Washer Fluid on the Freeway” rule with the argument of an ostrich or emu laying the ultimate deuce square on your windshield, because those suckers don’t fly. My momma didn’t raise no fool. Please.

Living in Los Angeles, driving is a way of life. It’s unavoidable. The one part of our car that needs to be clean while we’re driving is our windshield. I get that. Just don’t do it on the freeway. Do it at home. At the gas station. Parked in a lot. Driving down the street when there’s no one behind you. It was probably dirty before you got in the car and started driving. C’mon, people. Think ahead.

Ahhhhhhhhh. It's good to be back.

Is anyone still reading? An Apology.

I’m sorry. This is the longest I’ve gone without doing a post for my blog. I’ve had withdrawals. I've missed this...my blog is my release. In my e-absence, I've come up with ideas for rants/general observances to write about, but one of several scenarios occurs:

1. At the moment I'm thinking of something inspired, I’m not in a place to document my ideas to write down later. While I always used to write notes on my hand in high school, somehow I don’t think “Why do people insist on farting in elevators?” scribbled on my palm conveys that I am a professional employee. So I just hope it sticks in my brain. But it doesn’t.

2. I’m just plain exhausted. And exhausted does not equal creativity in writing.
My computer is packed, and still not hooked up in my new house. This move has been SOOOO long. It’s at the point of ridiculous. The only reason I can do this post is because I'm at a friend's house. Thanks, Cindy!

3. High season for weddings sucks my will to live. No offense to my brides/grooms…I adore them all. I do. But come August, I’m spent. I liken it to my winters in Boston. By February, winter has now been parked over your head for 3 months, and you’ve had it with the cold, ice, and snow. You hit the wall. You’ve had enough. Only winter is not close to being over…there’s still 2 months of cold to go. That’s how I feel right now. I'm done. I’ve hit the wall…and there’s 2 months of consecutive Saturdays to coordinate weddings before I feel like I can breathe.

Short story long...my bad. Posts will now resume.

Bloggers in my neighborhood....

Saw this on another blog, and I thought it might be fun...while my blog list is still fairly short, it's not the size that matters, people. :)

Someone on my blogroll is an amazing mother of THREE seriously cute babies. She is one of the funniest, wisest people I know, and is not afraid to tell it like it is. She and her husband are some of my favorite people, and she's the reason I started my own blog in the first place.

Someone on my blogroll is the grande dame of the blogging world. No, she actually IS.

Someone on my blogroll is not a real person, but he entertains the hell out of me more than any other fictional beet farmer working at a mid-range paper supply company ever could.

Someone on my blogroll is the family of a little boy in Canada who has more courage than I could ever hope for. He's an inspiration, for sure.

Someone on my blog roll is my favorite musician, who is also an incredibly entertaining blog writer.

Someone on my blogroll is my favorite musician who has a separate blog for a Japanese magazine. Doesn't everyone?

Someone on my blogroll was in Oklahoma! with me last summer, and is currently doing missionary work in South Africa for a year. She's such a little go-getter!

Someone on my blogroll has their fingers on the pulse of the white man.

Someone on my blogroll loves her beautiful family of 11, and if we ever met in real life, I know we would be friends.


Totally off topic, but all this repeated typing of the word "blogroll" just makes me want a lobster roll. But since I don't live in Boston anymore, I'm not bloody likely to find one for lunch today. I'll just pretend my veggie corn dogs from Trader Joe's in the breakroom freezer are the same thing. Eff.

The Dreaded Dating Update....

It's easier for me to be funny. It always has been. It's easy for me to write about truck balls, Jessie Spano, and Ted Kennedy's unflattering photos, but when it comes down to anything that's serious or might make me the slightest bit vulnerable, it becomes difficult for me to eloquently express it. Especially in this somewhat public forum.

This is the post I've been meaning to write for a while. The tag line for my blog says that this blog was created to be "A look at everyday life, DATING, and love of cheese through the eyes of Jen." The original focus of this blog was going to document my dating misadventures, because there have been SO MANY of them. But then, the absurdity of everyday life just kept happening before my eyes, and that became what my posts shifted towards. And can you blame me?! There's just so much ridiculousness out there to talk about!

There's a reason why I haven't written a post about my dating status in a while. Mostly, because there's nothing to share. Nothing has changed. I like a guy, we go out, we have a great time. Fully expect a 2nd date, and nothing comes of it. I actually just went out with a really nice guy last night, and I'm currently hoping for date #2. I think it might actually happen. But given my wretched track record, I'm just operating under 'cautious optimism' right now.

Simply put, I'm embarrassed. Embarrassed to admit that almost every guy I've gone out with in the last year (actually, 3 years) seems to end up on the back of a milk carton after date number one. Embarrassed that I keep failing and don't know why. I'm also afraid that's it's not actually these guys, but it's me, something I'm doing or putting out there. Afraid that everyone around me sees the reason why it keeps happening, but they want to spare my feelings and don't want to tell me what I'm doing wrong. Afraid I keep repeating a pattern of something unattractive or undesirable on these dates that I'm not detecting about myself. It pisses me off, because I pride myself on being self-aware, and right now I can't get a handle on what I'm doing incorrectly.

Definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. Believe me, I wish I could stop this dating insanity. If I knew how to get that different result, I would. I go on a date with a guy...I'm funny, I'm easy to talk to, I'm MYSELF. And that's not going to change. So how do I get that different result without changing ME? And I know, I know...

"It's not you, it's him."

"He's just not that into you." (and yes, I've read that book)

Both valid points. And most of the time, I truly believe these theories. However, when EVERY date turns out the same way, I can't help but start to look inward, as I'M the one constant in this dating experiment, and the guys are the ever-changing variables. But most of the time, I try to take it in stride and stay positive. Tonight is just a needed venting session that's been building up. I don't mean to sound whiny, because I hate whiners. I don't want this post to come off as me throwing myself a pity party, and being just another woman complaining about men. There ARE great guys out there. I see examples of them EVERY day in my brother, my friends, husbands/boyfriends of friends...and that gives me hope. I don't subscribe to the notion of "all the good ones are taken". That's crap. What kind of horrible world would we live in if EVERY good guy of our 6 billion on Earth was already taken? I don't buy it. I know there's a reason God has decided to hold off on bringing someone to me, so it's just a practice in patience. And I BLOW at patience sometimes, but I'm trying to get better at it.

There are tons of people out there with similar gripes about the mystery of dating. I know I'm not the only one, and I take comfort in those stories. I continue going out. I continue trying. I continue to have faith. I HAVE TO. Otherwise, that's when we permanently turn bitter and cynical towards love. And the thought of that annoys me much more than the pile of dudes that haven't called back.

In a nutshell, bitter ain't gonna be happening to Yen, bitches.

Why do I....?

Q: Why do I stay up until 4am hanging out with friends after I'd done a 12 hour wedding workday today?

A: Because my friends entertain the hell out of me, even when I feel like a zombie.

Q: Why is it that as I'm pulling into my driveway after said late night, I still want to spend an extra 3 minutes in my car so I can finish listening to Chaka Khan's "Ain't Nobody" on the radio, even though I'm so tired that I almost fell asleep behind the wheel?

A: Because I'm awesome. And so is Chaka.

Q: Why am I blogging about it?

A: See previous answer. If you guessed "Because Jen is effing crazy," you'd be mistaken.

GOOD NIGHT.

Public Service Annoucements CAN be entertaining!

I know...my postings have been sparse lately. I promise I will get better once this move is over...I've found that inspiration is slow to come when life is stressful. Aack! But I'll take moving and stress over calm and remaining in this apartment! So to tide you over until a proper post can be written, I thought I'd give you this delectable tidbit of awesome.

Please be careful with the volume if you're at work, or if there are young, impressionable ears around....




My, my...Schoolhouse Rock has come a long way since I was wee.

Here's why I love John Mayer.

As you can see on my list of favorite blogs on the right side of the screen, I'm a big reader of both of John Mayer's blogs. I love the way he writes...it's SO smart, SO funny, and has a REAL perspective on life that hasn't left him in the wake of his huge success. His most recent entry really struck a chord with me (no musical pun intended). It's about his meeting a 4 year old in Canada named Isaac, who is arguably John's biggest fan. This kid definitely has some special challenges...he suffers from MPS VI. I'd never heard of it. Here's your homework: go read John's post here. Just make sure you come back and read the rest of my post. Don't go off and callously ditch me for John permanently. :)

Done? Ok....

I makes me happy that someone as big as John takes time for kids like Isaac. Whether or not you're a fan of his music, he's getting it right, and using his celebrity for good. And as much as I do LOVE his music (as anyone that knows me can tell you), I'm just as big a fan of John Mayer the person as I am of John Mayer the musician. He's not doing this because it will give him good press, he does it because it's the right thing to do. Which is a lot more than I can say for most of young Hollywood today. (Wow, I totally just channeled my late Grandmother with that last sentence) I'm sure tomorrow's celebrity gossip pics will show John with Jennifer Aniston at the supermarket buying SmartWater (Stars....they're just like us! Breaking news!), without even a mention of the good he's done to bring visibility to this little family.

I've added the blog for The Isaac Foundation to my favorite blogs on the right. The purpose of them starting this foundation is to raise awareness and eventually find a cure for this little known, yet debilitating disease Isaac is suffering from. I'm hoping this post will help the goal of raising awareness in a very small way. Please take a minute to visit their blog and website. For all my fellow blog-lovers out there, I know you'll be hooked on Isaac and his story immediately. I think the blog is written by his parents, and there is one particular entry that gives a touching account of Isaac's meeting with John from their perspective. And it's all being written by his Dad in a hospital waiting room while little Isaac is in surgery. It made me cry. I don't have kids yet, but I'm sure if you're a parent, their story will resonate even more with you.

My thoughts and prayers go out to Isaac and his family, and my thanks go to John Mayer for introducing us to this brave little dude. It's great to know there's good being done in the world. And if that makes me sound like Pollyanna, then so be it. I've got your effing Glad Game right here. Suck it.

Things I'm glad about today:
1. I got a lot done at work today...I felt more productive than I have in a while
2. Had a good workout
3. I have a great family
4. I have amazing friends
5. My dinner RULED...chicken, squash, and eggplant stir fry with black pepper sauce from Trader Joe's...YUM.
6. I'm moving into a beautiful condo in 2 short weeks! (That's right...I'm moving out! But that's a post for another day...)
7. I'm moving.
8. I'm MOVING.
9. I'M MOVING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
10. Cheese

I do promise to come off the lithium for the next post, and be back to my ranty ol' self.

Dodgers, VD, and Kiwis...OH MY!!!

I HAVE to do a new post. I can't stand to see truck nuts every time I open my blog. So I'm sure you're sick of it too.

Let's remedy that, shall we? Here's a few pictures from various events of the last week....

My two VERY favorite things about LA in summertime are Dodger games and going to the Hollywood Bowl. If you live in LA and haven't been to the Bowl, you're missing out. Marin and I went to our first Bowl show of this summer on July 2. Imagine our elation knowing the theme for the whole 4th of July weekend was celebrating the Dodgers' 50th year being in LA. We were in HEAVEN. They played scores from various famous baseball movies (i.e. Field of Dreams, the Natural), and played several pieces from American composers. Then there was a HUGE fireworks show afterwards. What a great way to kick off the holiday weekend! This is a picture taken while Tommy Lasorda was leading the whole crowd in "Take Me Out to the Ballgame". If everyone had something in their lives that they loved as much as Tommy Lasorda loves those Dodgers, the world would be the better for it.
On Sunday, I headed down to Orange County to hang with Sara and Ro. We played cards, watched Sex and the City, played with makeup, and went to dinner. We were having such a girly day, that I'm sure any man daring to come within 30 feet of her apartment started to inexplicably grow breasts, cry at Steel Magnolias, and had the urge to adopt 5 cats.

I love these girls so stinking much, and I wish I could see them more. Before we left for dinner, I felt the need to add accessories. And so I added every one I could get my hands on.

And no, I don't wear glasses. I actually have freakishly good vision, and had to remove Sara's glasses shortly after this picture was taken, because I swear I was about to have a seizure.

On our walk back from dinner, we came upon this awesome piece of American automotive craftsmanship. Careful kids, wear protection. You are entering...the VD zone.

How genius...a one-stop shop for your syphilis, chlamydia, AND herpes needs! I half expected to find a mattress in the back of this van. In fact, I actually peered in the window to make sure no one was sleeping (or "sleeping") in there before I started climbing on it. The coast was clear, so ride the bumper I did! Of course, because of this careless behavior, I'll now have to go get tested at the free clinic.

Last night, Ro, Sara, and I headed down to Largo at the Coronet in LA to celebrate Sara's birthday. Bic Runga (singer/songwriter from New Zealand) was performing, and she was rumored to be having her fellow Kiwi's, Flight of the Conchords, as her special guest. Turns out it was true, so we were all stoked, ESPECIALLY the birthday girl! Of course, it was a GREAT show. Here is Sara before the show, laughing at her birthday cake at PF Chang's. Apparently she thinks desserts are quite humorous....


Of course, you all know about my love of Will Ferrell. So naturally, Stepbrothers is the most anticipated movie of my summer. After being disappointed by Semi-Pro, I'm really rooting for this one to be good. On our walk to Largo after dinner, Ro and I came upon this poster, and we couldn't resist. I mean, could YOU??? Wait, you could? Oh...that's cool. No...yeah, I could too. What dorks.

Truck Balls

Memo to Redneck Men of America:

Why? No, really...I want to know. WHY?

There is nothing more disturbing than the sight of Truck Balls when I'm driving around town. And now thanks to California's new cell phone law, I can't even call a friend to share in my disgust and get some consolation from what can only be described as being "visually violated". They're saggy. They're veiny. They're nasty. They're plastic. And NOW, one can purchase them in every color of the rainbow. Well, SUPER. Upper crust white trash go the extra mile and buy shiny silver ones. You know, to keep it classy. Obviously. Are these disgusting things everywhere? Or are Californians the only lucky ones?

If one is in the unfortunate situation of finding themselves on a date with a guy that drives a "ball-mobile", they should run the other way, fake malaria, or announce your grandma died. But if one chooses to stick out the evening, the following are things that can be safely assumed about this individual:

-his truck is absolutely compensating for something he's lacking in his own manhood.

-this is NOT someone to introduce to Mom and Dad.

-they're probably praying that the South will rise again.

-Trucks with nuts are often accompanied by NASCAR stickers as additional decor.

-the big white sheet with two eye holes that's lying in the truck bed is NOT a Halloween costume.

-"Dressing up" to this guy is wearing his newly-Febreezed Glamis t-shirt, along with the jeans with the fewest holes. Sexy!

**It should be noted that the number of 'truck nuts' per capita rises sharply when driving through the 909. If you have small children, and live in that area, you might want to consider blacking out your car windows, thus avoiding the conversation with your kids that goes something like this:

Billy: "Mommy, what's hanging on that truck?"

Mom: "Oh. Uh, those are testicles. Where are your travel games, dear?"

Billy: "I dunno. You mean, they're like mine and daddy's?"

Mom: "Kind of...only those are not real. Are you SURE your Game Boy isn't back there??"

Billy: "Yup. And Mommy, they're blue. Why would a truck have blue testicles?"

I don't have kids, but PLEASE tell me how you'd explain a truck's blue balls with a straight face. And I think that's what bothers me the most about these...kids end up seeing them. LITTLE kids. They can't miss 'em...they're right at eye-level with the truck (or, ball-level, rather). And as parents try to explain why some people choose to be so vulgar, you can actually watch their young, pure minds lose a bit of their innocence. All because some tool in Fontana wanted his truck to be a little more testosterone-y.

Suck it, Science.

I've had a long, hot day today. Like most of my weekends, I coordinated a wedding today at the Villa Del Sol D'Oro, our facility in Sierra Madre. It's a BEAUTIFUL place, and I feel so fortunate to be a part of so many truly gorgeous events, but in the summer months, the lack of air-conditioning makes life fairly uncomfortable. In fact, the heat today was UNHOLY. It was up over 100 degrees. At one point this afternoon, it felt like I was about to just stop living. I joked with my staff that if I died from heat exhaustion today, to just let me lay where I fell and not bother dealing with my dead, lifeless body. Which leads me to this:

I was cruising the blogs this evening when I got home, and I came upon an awesomely morbid post on this blog I've started reading recently. She posted about a website that calculates what your body is worth if you donate your dead body to science. Much as death and cadavers creep me out to no end, I was dying (no pun intended) to know my worth. Well, science seems to think I'm worth $5225. That's it?! Insulting. Apparently, I'm worth what is about equal to a used 2000 Dodge Stratus. Actually, the Stratus Blue Books for slightly more. Thanks, Science. No...no, really. Thanks.


$5225.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

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25 Worst Sitcoms of all Time...

On my way to work this morning, I was listening to Kevin and Bean, and they were listing off the 25 worst sitcoms of all time, as compiled by some website they found. Some of the shows deserved to make the list, but I was frankly horrified at some of the shows that were named, as they were staples of my childhood. I would like to meet this soulless, list making person that was deprived of a decent 80's/90's childhood of quality TV watching. At 10 years old, some of these shows were as natural to me as taking Flintstone vitamins and riding around on my mint green scooter. They were part of who I was as a freckled kid with knobby knees and a boyish haircut. Which might actually explain why some of the shows nearest to my heart are ranked among the worst EVER. Hmm....

I haven't heard of all these shows, but here's the list, with my sporadic commentary in parentheses....

-VERONICA’S CLOSET (I don't really love or hate this show. So I don't think it deserves a spot on the 25 worst sitcoms of ALL TIME.)

-CHARLES IN CHARGE (Scott Baio and Buddy Lembeck? SERIOUSLY?! How can you not love that show?)

-THE NANNY (Fran Drescher's voice IS like nails on a chalkboard, but I actually enjoyed this show overall.)

-WEBSTER (Why do they have to hate on the midgets?)

-THE ALL-AMERICAN GIRL (Margaret Cho's short running sitcom)

-BABES

-MR. BELVEDERE (Are you kidding me? British butler and a family from Pittsburgh...hilarity ensues.)

-FAMILY MATTERS (WTF?! Urkel? I'm saying it...the list makers were racist.)

-THE ROPERS (Spinoffs...they're a crapshoot. And this one fell flat. How about a spinoff starring Ralph Firley? Now THERE'S a quality program.)

-LIFE ON A STICK

-IT’S A LIVING (I LOVED this show...it made me want a career in cocktail waitressing)

-SHASTA MCNASTY (Never heard of it, but it sounds like a porn star, not a sitcom.)

-GEORGE (Foreman...not Lopez)

-HARRY AND THE HENDERSONS

-WE’VE GOT IT MADE

-DOUBLE TROUBLE

-PERFECT STRANGERS (I call shenanigans on this one. I DEMAND a recount. Balki Bartokomus and Cousin Larry Appleton were perfection.)

-MY TWO DADS (Great theme song. Therefore it doesn't belong on the list. And how hot was Greg Evigan in his acid washed jeans? Point made. Discussion closed.)

-BABY BOB

-MAMA’S FAMILY (Vicki Lawrence in a bad wig? I might be able to get on board with this one.)
-CAVEMAN

-WOOPS!

-YES DEAR (I agree with this choice. There's nothing that grabs me about this show. It's what to watch when nothing is on, and you're staring at the TV, searching for entertainment. And the fact that this ran for SIX seasons is beyond me.)

-HOMEBOYS IN OUTER SPACE (Ok, a show with a name like that belongs on this list. No argument here.)

-SMALL WONDER Initially, I was incensed by this choice. I loved watching Jamie, Vicki, and that zany ginger, Harriet every week. Then I hopped onto YouTube and saw this. Yeah, I take it back...this show probably deserved a spot on the list.

I think I'm the most upset about Perfect Strangers making this lineup(it should be noted that their theme song is currently playing in my head on repeat). Off the top of my head, there are plenty of shows that should have been shoo-in's for the list. I've broken them into 2 categories: "Awesomely bad" (shows I LOVED that critics would turn their noses up at), and "just plain BAD" (shows that are, in my opinion, total crap).

AWESOMELY bad sitcoms:

Just the 10 of us

Full House....or ANY of the TGIF lineup shows. Family Matters was the only one to actually make the list, and I've already called racism on that one. :)

Hey Dude

Out of This World

Golden Girls

Empty Nest (That spin-off of Golden Girls with Kristi McNichol and "Joe Isuzu")

Benson

Bosom Buddies

Gimme a Break!

The Torkelsons

Night Court

Punky Brewster (HEN-REEEEE!)

Saved By the Bell

Step by Step


Just plain BAD sitcoms:

The Jamie Foxx Show

Joey (I'm a die hard Friends fan, but this show sucked. And I really wanted it to be good.)

My Boys (TBS sitcom...this one tries too hard. I'm just not sold on it. Lame.)

Saved By the Bell: The College Years

Saved By the Bell: The New Class

California Dreams

Joanie Loves Chachi (Spinoff syndrome strikes again)

Now, there are some people out there that would argue that all sitcoms are victims of uncreative writing and shallow plots. Yeah, they probably are, but they entertain the hell out of me. But I want to know...what do you think? What have I missed? What other awesomely bad/just plain bad sitcoms should have made the cut? However, if ANYONE says "Alf" or "Diff'rent Strokes" are anything short of genius, I'm going to start throwing things.