Sexpot!

Aaaaaaand...you're welcome.

Please note: In this election year, where partisan emotions are running high, you all should know that the reason for posting this picture is not to show a Democrat in an unflattering light. I could care less...my point is just to show you how truly unattractive Ted Kennedy is. That's all. I'm sure I could dig up a gnarly photo of Rush Limbaugh to keep it all partisanly (is that a word? Partisanly?) equal, but the Teddy pic just happened to be already on my hard drive, and I wanted to put it to some use. I could really care less about political parties...and although I'm a registered voter (and you ALL should be), I really don't like either party. Like most Americans, I ended up begrudgingly choosing the party that vaguely matches my values and opinions. Then, I wake up the next morning feeling as dirty about my decision as if I had Rodrigo the Guatemalan gigilo in my bed. Just filthy. I can't win...until now.

Starting tomorrow, I'm going to start circulating a petition to start a new party, one who's platform and vision is something I can wholeheartedly believe in. A party that will transform the landscape of American politics as we know it. I bring you...The Cheese Party. Register now, and let's get canned aerosol cheese outlawed in this country. Let's make a REAL difference.

I like that today's post started with Teddy's fug mug, and ended with me stumping about spray cheese. Just wanted to let you all know that I'm fully aware of the absurd turns this blog takes, and I'm ok with it. It's not like I'm in high school, and I'm being graded for content. And for the record, I'm pretty sure I never titled any of my high school research papers "Sexpot!"

See how I tied it all together at the end??? NICE.

Back in the saddle again....

I'm still alive, everyone. You can stop worrying now. Because I know your lives clearly revolve around whether or not I post here. What can I say? I'm a giver.

My computer was infected by the creeping crud. My McAfee virus protection expired, and I didn't have the money to renew it, so I continued to surf the net without virus protection. Yeah, that was a bad idea. Viruses ABOUND. My brother the tech-guy had to reformat my whole darn computer because it was riddled with so much ad-ware, spy-ware, ass-ware, or whatever other malicious code was slapped on it. Who are these unemployed 40 year old tech goobers that sit in their parents' basement all day creating this stuff to infect the rest of us? No, I'm really asking, WHO ARE THEY?? I was without a computer for that whole week and weekend while he was fixing it. HELL ON EARTH.

This whole experience has made me realize I have a small addiction to blog reading, myspace, email, and the internet in general. Oh well! I've got to give my public what they want...a new blog! But apparently, my last couple entries were a bit too "racially charged" for some readers. Can I tell you how much I upset some of my hispanic readers (aka Ro and her whole posse she alerted) with my entry on Walter Mercado? By the way, I stand by my comparison of him to Richard Simmons...endeared by many, but a total freakshow nonetheless. Hey people, I could have compared him to Miss Cleo, but he's more entertaining than that Jamaican crackpot. Let's just hope the Korean contingency doesn't defect because of the Kim Jong Il puppet video entry (which has since been removed by YouTube...eff.), or my readership will be severely damaged. So I've decided to take today's post in the direction this blog was originally intended to talk about...dating.

My match.com subscription expires on April 7. Based on the yahoos I've met so far, for that reason (and monetary reasons also), I probably won't renew it. But I figure I've paid for it until then, so I'm mustering up the energy to make a final effort while I have this resource at my disposal. I've dusted off my copy of the Four Man Plan, and I'm back in the saddle again (hence the title of today's post). I'm now talking to a few different guys on Match right now, and a couple of them even have my phone number. So I may have some actual stories to share in the coming week or so. However, I do have a little diddy from my Easter weekend for you all now.

My first altercation comes not from someone I met from Match, but rather someone I met while at church over Easter weekend. Every year, our choir director hires some brass players for our Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday services. Normally, a prerequisite for these guys is that they're at the age of retirement, with wrinkles and saggy earlobes being the order of the day. But there was one shining exception playing the trombone just a few feet away from where I sat...and he looked EXACTLY like Chandler Bing. I know the actor's real name is Matthew Perry, but I don't know Matthew Perry. However, I know Chandler Bing like the back of my hand. So M.P. will always be Chandler Bing to me. Deal. Back to real life trombone-Chandler...he was the kind of cute that I couldn't help but steal glances of...it's like I didn't have a choice. I HAD to look at him. Again. And again. I felt like I was in high school, and was staring at the cute football players, hoping they'd notice me. Only high school was replaced by a choir loft in La Canada, and the football players were replaced with a choir and a bunch of white geriatric horn players. And Chandler Bing.

After Easter Vigil on Saturday night(which was THREE hours long), I decided that I would give him my number after Mass on Easter Sunday. That way, if I got shot down, I wouldn't have to deal with the humiliation while sitting across from him for a whole Mass. But in the world of dating (and life, for that matter), things only seem to happen for me if I put myself out there and take the risk, so I had to do it. I went home that night and neatly wrote a short note with my phone number addressed to "Trombone-Man", and stuck it in my purse for my Easter morning mission.

Sunday morning, I got up and got ready for church. I'm not going to deny that I spent some extra time getting ready and getting cute, but I had a good excuse...it was Easter, so of COURSE I wanted to look nice for Jesus. DER. All morning, I rehearsed what I'd say to him, "Hi. I'm Jen...you guys played great this morning. I hope I'm not being too forward, but I was wondering if I could give you my phone number." BAM...easy enough. If I got a yes, I'd hand over the paper with my number, and hope a conversation continued. If it was a no, I'd reply with a "Thought I'd try, thanks", and be done with it. I knew I had a high chance of a no, judging from my observations of him. He was handsome, clean cut, well-dressed...why wouldn't he be snatched up already? Taking these factors into account, I'd estimated there was at least an 80% chance of him being taken or gay, so I knew the odds were against me. But I had to find out, just in case he'd just been callously dumped the previous week, giving me a window of opportunity. After church, I waited out front wearing my sunglasses, so I could hang near a couple friends and look occupied, but still be able to stealthily scope him out when he left. Right on cue, he left the church, on his way to the parking lot. I weaved my way over to him, and promptly forgot everything I wanted to say, and I didn't even have my carefully written piece of paper in my hand. Then I blurted out, "Excuse me, um, would you mind if I gave you my phone number?" When he hesitated, I added, "I mean, if you're not already taken or anything." Just REAL smooth on my part. He smiled, and said, "Yeah, I'm sorry, I AM taken. But I'm really flattered. Thanks." At least he was sweet about it, and didn't laugh at me or vomit. BONUS! I then said something lame about cute trombone players being hard to find, wished him a happy Easter, and I PEACED THE HELL OUT OF THERE AS FAST AS I COULD. Never asked his name, and I forgot to give him my name when I decided to bombard the poor guy. Classy, Jen.

Gentlemen, I don't know how you deal with being shot down by ladies. Seriously, I'm glad it's the guy that normally asks the girl out. I left church feeling dejected, humiliated, embarrassed, etc...all your typical adjectives. I wanted to cry, but I wasn't sure why...it's not like I knew the guy or had any emotional investment of any more than 3 hours in him. I suppose it's a knee jerk reaction to the embarrassment, the endless string of rejection, the disappointment of another guy I liked being taken, blah blah blah. But at least I did it...there's nothing worse than chickening out, and wondering what might have happened if I had. At least I know. So I'm keeping the faith. The One is out there somewhere, maybe he just plays the contra bassoon instead of the trombone. And if you can't have faith on Easter, when can you?

Thanks for the kindness, Chandler Bing. Now go break up with that ho you're dating, and come back to La Canada for the choir girl that didn't even have the consideration of giving you her name.


SIDE NOTE: One of my co-workers turned me on to this blog called "Stuff White People Like". It's a running list/blurb of all the things in life that are ridiculously 'white' things to enjoy. This is not to be confused with a list of things klan members or rednecks like...that would be an entirely different list altogether, and Jeff Foxworthy has exhausted the redneck thing PLENTY. This is about your run-of-the-mill middle class whitey. It's good stuff. This guy/gal has us totally pegged. I've added it to my favorite blogs list on the right, if you'd like to check it out. Oddly enough, the co-worker that led me to this blog is Armenian. Thanks, VB.

A New Low....

I got a message from match.com this afternoon...apparently a fellow member 'winked' at me (a 'wink' is a way to tell someone on Match you're interested in them, but don't have the creativity or interest to actually email them.) Everyone has a screen name on the website as well. What was this Cassanova's screen name who took the painstaking effort to wink at me today???

Pimp_o_matic.

How dreamy!!!! I don't know about you all, but I hear wedding bells!

When I started this blog, I said I would promise to keep these guys as anonymous as possible. But this is an extreme case of lameness, so I need to broadcast it to fellow match.commers that may come across this, as a kind of public service. You'd want the government to tell you North Korea was launching a missile at the US, so you could take cover, right? This is the same thing. THE SAME EXACT THING. In the world of dating, "pimp_o_matic" is the equivalent to nuclear war with Kim Jong Il, and all should be warned in case they find themselves in the path of said pimp/bomb. And no, I don't think I'm over-exaggerating this one at all. Totally accurate comparison. I have one month left of my Match.com subscription, and fools like this do NOT convince me to renew.

As an added effect...listen/watch this whilst you read today's post.



Let's see, yesterday I got called out by Ro for making fun of Walter Mercado. Today it was Kim Jong Il...go ahead Cindy, I'm waiting for it. But it's worth it. Next post, I figure I'll take on the Swedes. No one ever makes fun of them. Until now.

Today's main topics:
Match.com
Pimp_o_matic
Kim Jong Il
The Swedes

Well rounded, if I do say so myself. REALLY well rounded. And Kim Jong Il, for the record, you're right. Why IS everyone so f*cking stupid? Why AREN'T more people interrigent...rike me?

Donde esta el gym-o?

Today is March 12. I turn thirty in exactly 2 months. I realized I didn't want to go into my thirties as lazy as I've been the last few months. There have been a bunch of reasons I fell out of my gym habit during the winter months....the holiday bustle, two vacations, three colds/flus, and a nasty spill down the stairs of my building (followed by weeks of soreness and bruising) all combined to create Lazy Winter Yen. And once that habit is broken, it's TOUGH to go back to a workout regimen.

But now there's no excuse...I have to get exercising again. Before, I was going at least 4 times a week, plus working in a yoga class whenever I could. I was in a good groove, and I know I can get there again. That cholesterol ain't gonna lower itself, people! So today, I went back to my Magic Johnson 24 Hour fitness in the ghetto of Altadena. I did it...and I even forgot my Zune, but I stayed and did my 30 minutes of cardio...well, it's a start! Of course, I picked an elliptical machine that was parked right in front of the TV tuned into Univision (A Spanish language TV station here in LA). Well, awesome. My first day back at the gym without music to listen to, and I'm forced to read SPANISH subtitles, while listening to the dude next to me cough every 8 seconds throughout his entire workout. Did he cover his mouth? Not once. Gross. Had I not already come down with every possible cold that was out there this year, I may have thrown a few obvious dirty looks his way, but I'm banking on my immunity being fairly stellar right now. Besides, what if I DID give him a dirty look, and it turns out he has lung cancer, and that's why he's coughing, and he's trying to go to the gym to keep himself healthy and prolong his life, so he can meet his grandchildren??? Then I'd feel like total crap. These are the things I think about. I needed my Zune to save me from myself.

Anyway, I huffed and puffed my way through the workout, all the while trying to stay distracted by Univision's 6 o'clock news. I was able to pick out a couple Spanish words here and there. I made it like a game...I'd know 1 or 2 words, then based on the pictures I could KIND OF figure out what they were talking about. Fairly impressive for a girl who took only French in high school and college. Like for example...did you know that Bea Arthur is pregnant with a litter of hamsters??? I KNOW! I was surprised too!

I want to petition Channel 4 News to do one of the things Univision does during their seemingly normal Spanish newscast. LA local news is such a disgrace to the field of responsible, accurate journalism that they might as well take this asinine step Univision took. They have a gentleman (I use the term 'gentleman' as loosely as humanly possible) named Walter Mercado that comes on for a few minutes and does astrology forecasts. Has anyone heard of this dude? I did a double take, because I assumed the person I was watching was a woman. Of course, for all I know, Walter Mercado could be some beloved figure in Mexican culture, and I've just offended people. But my gut tells me he's equal to how Americans see Richard Simmons. We're somehow endeared to him, yet puzzled (and just a tad frightened) by him all at the same time.

Check out the pictures below...this is what Walter looks like. "He" wears these long, flowing, sparkling robes. The ones he was donning today were absolutely infested with sequins and fake jewels. Think of Liberace dressed as a Renaissance Fair Queen, having a run-in with a Bedazzler, and you're starting to understand what I was seeing on the TV in front of me. At the gym. In the ghetto. I thought I was having a stroke.



















Now, hear this, reader(s)...I'd encourage you all to do a little experiment the next time you're watching the evening news. First, watch a BBC newscast...it's very serious, and it's just the facts, no spin at all. Plus they speak in a British accent, which makes everything sound terribly civilized, no matter what the topic is. After about 15 minutes, flip on Univision while Walter Mercado is on. Your brain will actually explode from the harsh transition. *It should be noted that pregnant women, the weak, or elderly should consult a physician before embarking on such a risky venture.

So that was my big welcome back to the gym after my 3 month hiatus. And you can bet your sweet bippy I'll be going back regularly, despite my run-in with Mr. Phlegm and Senor Sequins. I'm determined to head into my 30's looking and feeling good. But I will definitely have that Zune and headphones securely by my side. In fact, they're already in my gym bag, ready to go for visit #2. Take THAT, Univision.

Car Wars: Return of the Jetta

First off, a big shout out to Marin for today’s post title…that bit ‘o genius came from her wondrous mind. (Marin, what would you have done if I owned a Daihatsu Charade? Besides ridicule me for driving a sinfully ugly car? *apologies to both remaining Daihatsu owners left in the U.S. Did I offend?*)

And it’s true, ladies and gentlemen, I finally got my car back on Saturday morning! I can’t tell you how excited I was to have my Penelope back in the garage. As you may recall, my car got slammed into on January 26 while I was on the BNL cruise in Florida (which seems like eons ago). After well over a month of countless calls to my insurance company and body shop, my car is better off than it was before it was hit! All noticeable scratches that have been accumulated over the last 2 ½ years are gone. Because the damage covered virtually the entirety of the passenger’s side of the car (plus some on the back of the car, as well as a panel on the driver’s side), it has a new paint job on at least 65% of the car…plus they detailed the whole car when they were done, so the rest of her sparkles too! It’s like my car got a facelift…a kind of vehicle-botox, if you will. Only this kind of botox was totally covered by insurance, as opposed to the deadly bacteria Hollywood starlets inject into their faces, which I’ve heard ain’t cheap.

I only have 2 complaints: one is that the interior of the car now smells a little weird…kind of like wet paint or something, I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s just not the smell I’m used to…but I’m sure it will fade away in a few days. I may invest in an air freshener if it doesn’t improve. The second is that the stereo speaker on the passenger side of the car buzzes if there is ANY bass in a song...and I have the bass knob turned almost all the way down. So I may need to take it back to the shop next week at some point...but I'm trying not to think about that right now.

Some before and after pictures....

Before repairs...just after the accident, and my mom said it looked worse in real-life. (And yes, my car was parallel to the lawn when I left it):

Aaaaand...after!

When they pulled the car around, I was still wrapping up my paperwork with the rental car company. (Enterprise had a counter ON SITE at the body shop…heaven! And yes, for those of you who are wondering, it turns out that heaven IS a body shop with an on site rental car outlet. And I bet Paul Rudd is always there as well. Why? Because it’s HEAVEN, that’s why. DER.) Anyway, when they pulled it around, I was like a kid at Christmas. As soon as I signed the last of my paperwork, I bolted. I probably would have run out there and hugged it had it not been for two things:

1. I didn’t want to smudge, scratch, or smear any part of the glistening wax job they’d just done. Let me reiterate…it was BEAUTIFUL.
2. There were lots of people standing around, ready to judge the girl making out with her car…which is an inanimate object, after all. But hey, who’s to judge what is and isn’t love, anyway? Suck it, body shop personnel.

I did a quick walk-around to make sure there wasn’t anything to be concerned about before pulling away. Everything looked great. Then I got in. And something weird happened. My euphoria was momentarily replaced by some very unexpected disorientation. It was like I’d never sat in this car before…everything felt completely unfamiliar, like the feeling when you get into a rental car and you have to quickly acquaint yourself with where everything is before you drive off. The stupid Jeep I’d been driving for over a month had become the norm. Well, that’s just GROSS…so this had to stop FAST. But then it all slowly came back to me…there were the same stereo buttons that are noticeably worn by my obsessive need to find the perfect song on the radio, there was the cling pad for my Zune, and there was the can of Turtle Wax a guy at church had lent me to help get out the scratches in my paint that were no longer there. Ok. This was indeed my car. Phew. And I drove off, happy as a clam. Well, a clam with the ability to operate a motor vehicle.

I realize this is all a bit over the top. It’s a car. Not a family member, friend, acquaintance, or even a pet. But I do enjoy my car…I spend a LOT of time driving (48K miles in just 2 ½ years…I know, it’s crazy), and it’s by far the NICEST thing I own. Well, it's probably neck and neck with my Friends DVD collection. That's pretty sweet, too.

My Monday lunch hour.

I'm working right now, so I have to make this quick...I thought you all should know how I just spent my lunch. When it's warm out, we like to sit outside our office building in a small area next to the parking lot, just to get some contact with the outside world, and get out from under the florescent lights. Today, we spent our lunch hour throwing rocks at a barrel cactus in our parking lot(like the one pictured below) for a solid 30 minutes. The worst part about all this? It was fun. I'll probably do it again tomorrow.

Dear reader(s), don't be getting jealous of the fast-paced single girl life I lead. You can't keep up, so don't even bother trying.

*NOTE: For all you tooty-fruity environmentalists crying about the abuse we heaped upon the helpless cactus, it wasn't damaged in the least. Those suckers are tough...and their spines protect it from all incoming projectiles from HR employees.

MOVIE REVIEW: Semi-Pro

I'm a HUGE Will Ferrell fan, and I would die if I ever got to meet him. I can watch some of his movies and SNL skits over and over, and still laugh. When I was recovering from hernia surgery a few years ago, Ro bought me "The Best of Will Ferrell on SNL" for me to watch while I was recovering at home. I somehow made it through the Blue Oyster Cult and Jeopardy sketches, but when we got to the Harry Carey sketch, I was laughing so hard we had to turn it off, because I was in danger of ACTUALLY busting a gut.

"What's your favorite planet? Mine's the sun."

Anyway, down to business. Last night, Ro and I went to see Will Ferrell's new movie, Semi-Pro down in Marina Del Rey. Let's just say I was glad we didn't pay for our tickets, as Ro had some movie passes to use up. The movie didn't start until 10:15, which didn't bode well for us starting off. We agreed we were awake enough to be able to make it through the movie, but that turned into wishful thinking on our parts. I dozed a couple minutes, as did Ro. Towards the end, I kept wondering what time it was, and how much longer the movie was going to be. Never a good sign. But I've now realized it's never wise to go to a Will Ferrell movie tired...it's just not as funny. In fact, the schtick becomes repetitive and (dare I say) annoying. I'd be curious to see it again when I'm fully awake, and see if I enjoy it more.
Semi-Pro had some genuinely hilarious, laugh-out-loud moments. The opening credits that featured his character's hit song "Love Me Sexy" had us howling. And the jive turkey scene...priceless! There's no point in trying to explain it, you'd have to see it, but...

"Did you just call me a...JIVE TURKEY?"
"No man, he'd never call you a J.T. He just called you a cocksucker. That's all."

One of the best thing about the more recent Will Ferrell movies is not about Ferrell, but rather his supporting cast. Case in point, Will Arnett (Arrested Development...reverent pause) and Amy Poehler (SNL) in Blades of Glory. Awesome. Incidentally, Will Arnett had a small role in Semi-Pro, and he totally rocked the porn mustache he had going on...he really plays the hotheaded asshole SO well. Andy Richter was lovable as always, the cameo by Patti LaBelle was awesome, and I surprisingly enjoyed Woody Harrelson's character. I was confused by the casting of Maura Tierney as Harrelson's love interest. She's caught in a love triangle between Harrelson and Rob Corddry's characters (Corddry was also very funny), and I just didn't buy that she could be interested in either of them. She's the responsible, level-headed lady from Liar Liar and ER, and that's how I'll always see her...not as the gal living with some idiot in a blue collar neighborhood in Flint, Michigan.

Will Ferrell has got the character of the loudmouthed, clueless, egotistical idiot down to a science. However, how many different variations of this character can there be before it's been played out? The answer is that it HAS been played out. It's losing it's luster. Of course, he's still a box office draw, and will continue to be. All that being said, I will see Semi-Pro again...when it comes out on DVD. At that point, my brother and I will watch and digest it, and subsequently quote it mercilessly until our parents are on the verge of disowning us.

SIDE NOTE: It should be noted that I wasn't into Anchorman when I first saw it. It took additional viewings to truly appreciate it's awesomeness. I now love Ron Burgundy, and consider myself a disciple of his, so the same thing could happen with Semi-Pro. If my opinion changes (because that could definitely happen), I'll keep you posted. This is why I'd never win an election if I ever started a political career...I'm a self-admitted flip-flopper. So sue me.

SUPER SIDE NOTE: Will Ferrell has odd chest hair. It kind of frightens me.

Getting creative with food...cram it, Rachael Ray.

I HATE MONEY. I hate thinking about it, talking about it, worrying about, I even hate to type about it here. But lately, it's all I think about...so I've got to vent. Where can I save a few more dollars? What can I do without until wedding season picks back up? It's embarrassing to be almost 30 and still be worrying how to make it to the next paycheck. Ew, almost thirty...I think I just threw up a little. Back to the subject at hand....

This time of year is ALWAYS tight for me financially...but this is not breaking news by any means. There are no weddings to regularly coordinate until April, so the money I make from my recruiting job during the week is all I have to live on, which isn't a whole lot once my rent/bills are paid. Combine that with all the money one spends over the holidays leading up to this time, along with the cruise I went on (did I really need that many margaritas? The answer to that question is YES.), and you've got some FUN budget issues. But I've done it to myself, so I feel lame complaining. I picked the lower paying job, I chose to drive a slightly nicer car, I chose the trips I went on. No one put a gun to my head to do any of this. But I work at company with people and a cause I care a lot about, I drive EVERYWHERE (hence the nicer car), and I LIVE to travel. And at the end of the day, I'm happier. So if that means I have to scrimp a little here and there this time of year, I'll take it over living with my parents, driving Cindy's used Daihatsu Charade, and never traveling farther than the 909. I'd suffocate.

So when it comes it food, it gets even more wacky. I get pretty creative with what's in my cupboard. But, the truth is that no matter how poor I get, I just can't bring myself to eat things that aren't tasty. I LOVE food. And I'm downright insulted by cheap crap that calls itself food, and frankly, I refuse to eat it; i.e. Kraft singles (it's NOT cheese), top ramen, and fat-free mayonnaise. And don't get me started on raisins...if you want to eat rotting grapes, that's your own business. But don't make it mine.

Recently, I was in need of some lunch, and about the only option I had in my kitchen was a sweet potato. But I'm not that interested in sweet potatoes, so I had to bring in reinforcements. I whipped out some salt, pepper, thyme, garlic, and olive oil, and I had a damn good meal of fancy sweet potato fries. I was so proud of my culinary improvisation, that I took a picture of the finished product:


All that complaining about money, just so I could tell you about my totally bitchin' sweet potato fries. What's that, you say?? Oh, you're very welcome. Please come back again.