Jake.

If this doesn't get to you, I don't know what to say, except that you might actually be a robot.

A beautiful thing.

I don't know who they are, but whoever drew this should be my friend.

Found it here.

You know you're in LA when....

...you're in a car on your way to Groundling's class, sitting at a red light outside Pink's Hot Dog stand. You notice a news crew doing an interview of a man in a suit holding a hot dog. Then a Hasidic Jew wearing rollerblades glides by.

I love LA.

Dear Twilight....

Dear Twilight/New Moon,

I'm not getting everyone's fascination with you. Enough already.

Regards,
Jen

Something I might have said in the last hour....

"Last night was living proof that God just might be a Dodgers fan." Because God really has the time (or the care) to have partiality in terms of baseball.

BUT SERIOUSLY, DID YOU SEE THIS???

I love these boys. LOVE. THEM.

This Just In....

Everyone, stop what you're doing. I just heard that Britney Spears bought a parakeet.

Yeah, I don't care either. I just figured since I had to read it (and can't get that 8 seconds of my life back), that I would inflict it on everyone else.

Go on with your lives now. And, you're welcome.

When it comes to scary, I'm a weenie.

The Wizard of Oz was has been re-mastered and re-released for the movie's 70th anniversary. It's one of my favorite childhood movies of all time. I have it memorized frontwards and backwards. So when the movie was showing on TBS Sunday night, OF COURSE I had to watch it. And while I was watching, I was reminded of this: The Wicked Witch of the West is one SCARY bitch. That green face and draping black robe typical of that character has been repeated in Halloween costumes over and over, but Margaret Hamilton's portrayal of the witch disturbed the crap out of me as a kid. And it still does. It's that face. Those eyes. Oh, those EYES. In some scenes, I still have to look away. At 31 years old.

I just got the shivers.

I'm not good with scary/horror movies. I'm a chicken, and I steer clear of them. So obviously, the villains in these types of movies scare the bejesus out of me. And the Wizard of Oz is not classified as a scary movie, but the Wicked Witch of the West puts all villains to shame. Freddy Kruger? Nah. Jason? Nope. That creepy kid from Children of the Corn? Meh.

Let it be known that the last thing I'm doing to this post is adding the picture above. I literally can't look at her while I type. When it comes to scary, I can only handle things that are scary/funny, like this:
Yes, Oompa Loompas are scary. Short, orange people are creepy, and should never be trusted. Which is also why you should keep your kids and midgets away from cheap self-tanner, but that's a rant for another day.

ATTENTION

It's ketchup, not catsup.

Pioneer Woman

Many who know me are aware of my admiration for Pioneer Woman. She can cook anything (in the most beautiful kitchen I've ever seen), her photography is exquisite, and she writes my favorite blog on the internets. She's releasing her first cookbook next month. And when a book is released, there is always the inevitable book tour. PW is no exception.

Pioneer Woman Book Tour

She's hoping to add a west coast stop, and I'm crossing my fingers for it being anywhere near LA.

I just might piddle.

The Hills.

This just in: MSN.com is reporting that Audrina Patridge might be leaving The Hills.

Oh wait....that's right. I don't give a crap about that fake reality show.

As you were.

The ability to breathe is highly overrated....

The pic I posted of the La Canada fire yesterday has gotten exponentially bigger. And scarier. For those of you that don't have the 'pleasure' of living in CA and experiencing wildfire season, it's a barrel of monkeys. Really. Nothing better than seeing a wall of flames come flying down a hill towards your home. It's a helpless feeling. And the air is HORRIBLE. There is dirt and ash on every surface outside.

Thankfully, this is the view out the window of my office building, not my own house. But it's still unreal to watch it unfold right in front of us. There are hundreds of people that live here that are currently under an evacuation. Several of my church friends and co-workers live here in La Canada, and I pray the fire spares their homes. These pictures really don't capture what it looks like, but it gives an idea....


The firefighters are aerial crews are doing an amazing job at fighting this blaze...my co-workers and I watched the planes and helicopters all day totally mesmorized. So far no homes have been lost. To all the firemen: keep it up guys, and stay safe!

It's beginning to look a lot like...fire season.

So this was happening outside the window at the office today....
The morning was spent looking outside at what looked like snow falling. Granted, it was ashes, and it's 105 degrees outside. But when it comes to snow in LA (in August), beggars can't be choosers.

Methinks that California's wildfire season has commenced. Oh, yippee.

DWTS: My Suggestions

I was a little disappointed with this week's Dancing With the Stars lineup for the upcoming season. Frankly, I thought it was a big yawn. As I first read the list, I was saying "Um, who?" for half the names. In case you're out of the loop, or smart enough to stay away from reality TV, here's the lineup:

Donny Osmond
Tom DeLay
Kelly Osborne
Michael Irvin
Kathy Ireland
Joanna Krupa
Debi Mazar
Maci Gray
Louie Vito
Aaron Carter
Melissa Joan Hart
Ashley Hamilton
Mark Dacascos
Natalie Coughlin
Mya
Chuck Liddell

ABC, can't you do better than that? After reading that lineup of lameness, I've decided to offer up my services, and create a list of my own. Here are my contestants, in no particular order:


Chuck Norris
Carol Channing
Bill Gates
Tom Green
Dolly Parton
Christopher Lloyd (wearing the Doc Brown wig)
Tommy Lasorda
Rainn Wilson
Chelsea Clinton
Amy Poehler
Mike Tyson
Tiffany
Dave Chappelle
Carol Burnett
John Travolta

TELL me that wouldn't be the highest rated season ever. You've got a solid mix of celebs from the world of business, politics, sports, and entertainment. And it still is chock full of has-beens (a DWTS staple). The only difference is that the ones I chose are awesome. ABC, take note. I won't even sue you for stealing my list. Provided that Chuck Norris wears sequins, and Carol Channing does NOT show her midriff at ANY time.

100 Things I Love....

And now, the 100 things I love...again, it's still tiny as all hell.

100 things that SUCK.

This post and the post that will follow in a few minutes are stolen from another blog. Kind of. There's a fun little website called Wordle that allows you to take various lists of words and convert them into these fun arrangements. SUCH a time-sucker. But it was fun to do. First off, 100 things that Suck, according to Yen....

I guess you have to click on it to make it bigger...can't figure out how to publish it normal size. So I guess 101st thing that sucks is my understanding of Wordle and HTML.

*Update: I rule. I made it bigger. But not HUGE, so I just moderately rule.

Confession Time

Have you ever seen that scene at the beginning of Pretty Woman where Vivian (Julia Roberts) is getting dressed for, ahem...'work' for the evening, and after she puts her boots on, she colors in the scuffs with a black marker? My junior high mind grabbed onto that technique and thought it was pure genius. I'm slightly ashamed to announce that scene prompted a Sharpie to be my shoe polish of choice for my teen years. And to say it stopped there would be a lie. I keep a Sharpie in my pencil cup at my desk at work, and have been known to use it on my shoes for several shoe-emergencies. Which includes 10 minutes ago. It works like a charm. A ghetto-fabulous charm, but a charm nonetheless.

Congrats, Mom. You've raised a true lady. But you'll be relieved to know that's the ONLY habit I took from Julia's character in that movie. I ain't no streetwalker.

Biggest "duh" of the news day...

Shockingly, a study has come out today saying that tanning beds cause skin cancer.

Well DUH, CNN.

Next, you're going to tell me that jumping into a pool of hungry piranhas could lead to death. Does it REALLY??!

This is what gets me hot.

My office mate, Jasmin, walked into our little office the other day, handed me something, and said the following:

"Here. I brought you some porn."

It was the Pottery Barn catalog. Be still my beating heart. I love that my co-workers know me so well, and indulge me in my addictions.

For those readers that don't know, I work in HR. And yes, we make references to porn. We are ALWAYS at the height of professionalism.

Breakfast of Champions

Yesterday, we had a potluck at work. As with any potluck, there's always a TON of food leftover. As my co-worker and I peered into the fridge this morning, we were met with several breakfast possibilities, none of which were healthy or typical for breakfast. Please take into consideration that last night I bent down in my kitchen to pick something up, and the button fell, (nay, FLEW) off my shorts. On top of that, I'm still expected to wear a bathing suit in public at least 3 more times during the summer. That should have been enough to convince me to eat yogurt and flax seed for two weeks. SHOULD HAVE.

We settled on macaroni and cheese, and pesto pasta salad. FABU. To add insult to injury...what happens after you carbo-load? A slammin' food coma. At 9:45 am. I'm going to be a stellar employee today. My company is lucky to have me.


*apologies for the blogging hiatus. Been travelling around the east coast for the last week or so. Pictures to come...if I can get my act together. :)

What's the Difference?

Today, my friend and I were having lunch at lovely Pho place in Montrose. For those of you not familiar with Pho, it's a Vietnamese soup with noodles, beef, and an array of other sauces, veggies, and herbs you can add to make it your own.

We weren't sure how big the portions were, and we were debating on whether we should order a small or a large. So we asked our pleasant waitress, "What's the difference between the small and the large?"

Her answer: "The size."


Uh yeah, thanks.


An interesting side note: One of the condiments you can add to your Pho is spicy chili. Do yourself a favor: Don't spill a bunch of it on the table, try to clean it up, then later wipe your nose with fingers that likely have chili remnants on them. Your nostrils will be on fire for the duration of your meal, and beyond. Kind of like mine are right now.

Keeping it classy. And random.

In my continuing fascination with all things that grow, tonight I was hoping to post a picture of what I'm confident is the biggest lemon in at least 83 states. (I'm aware there are only 50 states, I'm just trying to express how huge this monolith is.) My parents have a freakish lemon tree in their backyard that grows huge fruit, and this dear arbor has outdone itself this time. This sucker was somewhere between the size of a grapefruit and a cantaloupe. But after all this buildup of what was sure to be your most exciting stop on the web this evening, I didn't have my camera to capture the glory. So sorry, dear reader. First the losses of Michael and Farrah, now this lemon thing. I'm a monster for inflicting this on you.

BUT WAIT! DON'T HIT THE BACK BUTTON!

I have a plan B for tonight's post. I know you're inconsolable, but perhaps you can drown your sorrows in this. Below is a picture of the beer that was served at the wedding I coordinated last night.
Your eyes do not deceive you. It is indeed "Doggie Style" beer.

Some Cuteness and Slight Abuse for your Saturday

A Bumper Sticker I Fancy....

I care about the environment. But my vanity takes over when it comes to my car. Until car manufacturers can make more attractive looking hybrids that don't look like tuna cans, I will continue to drive Klaus, my gas-drinkin' Jetta. I realize some car companies are finally making strides towards better looking hybrids, but I'm not moved to change over yet. But I saw a bumper sticker on a Prius yesterday that made me laugh enough to consider a switch.

"I beat up 5 hippies, and all I got was this lousy Prius."

Well played, humorous Prius driver. For a while, I was convinced the only bumper decor allowed on a Prius were stickers either to support Obama or saving the planet. Or those state-issued stickers that let you roll in the carpool lane. None of which I'm necessarily against, but something gets lost when EVERY Prius seems to sport the same stuff. No one wants to wear the same outfit to a party as everyone else. The purpose of a bumper sticker is to make your car a little more unique.

In other breaking bumper sticker news, on my way home just a few minutes ago, I came across another one I enjoyed. Short, sweet, and to the point:

"Don't Hit Me."

Oh Amen, brother. AMEN.

I'm the freaking wizard of gardening.

So I picked this from my patio plant. It's the first thing the patio has yielded besides black widows and other 6-8 legged creatures. Things are looking up.
I labored over what I was going to do with the solitary lime. And then it came to me. It was so obvious.

Ahhhhhhh...lovely. But this was obviously not for my own pleasure. It was merely to test the validity of the other 10 budding limes still on the branches, even though they are months from being ready for picking.

Result: Very promising. Margarita party at my house. Probably mid-November. Mark your calendars.

Spellcheck iz importente in yer online datin profyle

In my continuing online dating saga, I joined catholicmatch.com. I left behind the freak show that was Plenty of Fish, and am hoping that a more faith-based site might yield some more decent dudes. While I was perusing the profiles of my matches, I came across this opening line that amused me:

"Hi everyone, I would like to find someone special and with a good hearth."

Who knew that the men of LA just wanted a gal with a decent fireplace? Or maybe this guy is a chimney sweep.

Love Affair.

God help me, I love butter. LOVE IT.

Stud Muffin.

In case you haven't heard, I adore this man.

Yes, I adore Barry Manilow. And yes, I realize he's wearing crushed red velvet. And yes, I realize his nose and haircut make him look like a baby bird. And yes, I realize he's gay. But I actually didn't know that until my friends told me at 23 years of age. I was shocked. It just never occurred to me. And I don't know why.

I'm happy when people aren't afraid to look ridiculous.

I'm a little less annoyed with the Jonas Brothers after watching this. I love when pop tarts look like absolute idiots, and aren't afraid of doing it.





Knowing what a lack of musical taste I had when I was 11, if these guys had been around in 1989, I'm sure I would have followed them to the ends of the earth. I already had that hysteria in my youth with a little band called New Kids on the Block. Don't get me wrong, JoBros, this video has not even remotely turned me into a fan of yours. Your music still annoys me to no end. However, I now have a shred of respect for your ability to create humor. Kudos.

Nowadays, I prefer to sit back and listen to my Barry Manilow CD's. That's right kids. CD's. I'm old-school. Heck, I just joined iTunes two weeks ago. Gimme a break! Ooo, Gimme a Break...that was a great TV show. WHAT'S GIMME A BREAK, YOU ASK??!?!?!?! Ah, forget it...I know I lost you way back at Barry Manilow.

I am...Chuck Mangione.

My friends shot this video just over a month ago, then tossed it up on YouTube. And tonight, in an effort to keep my momentum of regular posts going I thought, "Why don't I just cast my dignity aside and post that video on the ol' blog?" Which reminds me, I shouldn't listen to every suggestion I give myself. But I'm just so damn obedient.

Two things I'd like you to know before you watch this video:

1. I don't do drugs.
2. And while yes, I do drink, alcohol wasn't involved either. Just pure exhaustion. I was half asleep when this was taken.

Um, enjoy?




*PROGRAM NOTE: Yenny Cash is my alias in the "band" I'm in with two of my favorite ladies, Skmaximus Black and Liz Roswell. I call it a "band" because we've only had one rehearsal, and this and this was what came from it. On top of that, we've only had one paid gig, and we were lip-syncing. Believe it or not, we were ALL music majors in college.

Sweet Sounds of the Brits

Couldn't you just listen to someone with a British accent for hours on end? I know I could. No matter what they say, it always comes out sounding classy. They could say, "You see, the other day I killed a bloke by completely disemboweling him, and now I wear his guts for garters because I'm a heartless bastard", and it would sound absolutely dignified. And you'd want to hear MORE about it, just because the accent sounds like linguistic music.

Someone Explain This to Me....

This is going to be a short post, as I don't want much blog space wasted on this pondering. But I need to bring it up, if only for a brief moment.

A first for me today...I just watched a full episode of The Hills.

Why do people watch this? I really want to understand.

What was required to get through my workday without losing it...

-3 Brownies
-Walnut Square Bar from See's Candies (that bastardly store has the nerve to be right across the street from my office, staring at me all the live-long day)
-Reese's peanut butter cups
-a final act of sugar desperation was half a sugar cookie left behind on a cookie tray in the breakroom (yeah, I'm officially gross)

And that was me showing restraint. The damage could have been more extensive. And it has been worse in the past. But not since my Lent sugar-embargo commenced has there been such carnage. But with not having much sugar anymore, then introducing it back is making my body give me the middle finger. I feel like a lump 'o crap now.

I have an excuse. And no, it's not PMS. It's just been nuts here in the office this week. I don't want to make false declarations about my Friday night, but we might be leaving the sugar behind for good ol' fashioned liquor.

Beer, Transformers, and dorks.

This evening, I enjoyed a few impromptu beers at the Yard House with my roomie and pals. We had a fabulous evening with tons of laughs, but all good things must come to an end, so we headed home. Turns out the real entertainment was on that short stroll back to our casa. We crossed the street from the bar to the Pasadena Convention Center. For ten o'colck at night, there was LOTS going on in there. Inside we could see a huge line of nerds going down the hall. Since we were slightly toasty, we boldly rapped on the window, and motioned to a dork to come over to enlighten us. He opened a door, and proceeded to inform us they were in line to get inside the TRANSFORMERS CONVENTION. Did you know such a thing existed? Yeah, neither did we.

Before we knew it, there was another dork behind us, desperate to talk to our Informer Dork, saying something about some discs he had for him. Then he mentioned Go-Bots. I swear. I can't make this stuff up.

But our rendezvous was short-lived. A security guard made Informer Dork close the door and get back in line. We made our way home, but not before passing by many a dork making the pilgrimage to Transformer-Mecca. We even found a few wayward dorks walking by our condo, and pointed them in the right direction toward their destination.

Just so you know our night was the real deal, roomie took a pic on her camera phone:
I love my town.

If you're out and about in Pasadena tonight, know that the city is TEEMING with nerds. Be sure to have your light saber on you. You never know when you're going to face some sort of Vulcan mind meld. Wait...are light sabers and Vulcan from the same thing? I'm thinking they aren't.

My newest inappropriate catch phrase.

As I explained in a recent post, the English language is fun to get creative with. Today, my co-worker Tamara introduced me to a doozy that I will be immediately integrating into my vernacular. Coming soon to a conversation near you....

"HOLY WHORE!"

It's slightly less crude than "holy shit!" (Whoops, I just said it anyway. Sorry Mom.), and the added bonus is that it's an oxymoron. Unless I want to get in a big ol' discussion about it could refer to Mary Magdalene, so it technically wouldn't be an oxymoron, but I really don't feel like having a biblical showdown. Sorry folks, this girl doesn't have the energy to delve into her Catholicity tonight. And apparently Catholicity is a word...spell check isn't berating me. Score.

P.S. And yes, I realize it's been almost a month since my last post. To BOTH of my readers, my apologies. And holy whore, what a great way to make my comeback tonight.

Stupid Mass Hysteria

I just saw this on another blog. I HAD to share such an important piece of information. It's the most level-headed thing I've seen on the internet regarding swine flu.

Do I have swine flu?

Poor piggies. They're getting such a bad rap. Throughout this craziness, I will remain an avid supporter of pigs. Especially ones in the form of sweet and sour pork, ribs, or bacon. And look, aren't we cute together?

Deeeeee-lish.

My Favorite Word....

...is DOUCHEBAG. As any of my co-workers know, I LOVE saying "douchebag". And actually, it turns out that typing it is quite entertaining for me as well. And it can be used in it's modified forms as well (i.e. douchebaggery or douchebaggedness). It's the 12 year-old in me, but the idea that you can insult someone by telling them they're a sack of vinegar and water makes me giggle.

Douchebag is the only word that isn't an actual cuss word, yet still satisfies just as much when it rolls off the tongue. And it comes without the guilt of an F-bomb. Don't get me wrong, I'm not likely to shout out "douchebag!" at church this Sunday. I'm not completely devoid of social graces. I know the appropriate time and place.

Many thanks to all you douchebags that continue to come back and read the mindless trash that is this blog. :)

More Online Dating Ridiculousness....

In previous posts, I've mentioned some of my disturbing contacts from the free dating site, Plenty of Fish. I said I was done with internet dating sites, and I meant it. I'm burnt out on conversing with horny dillholes. However, I haven't taken my profile off the site yet, because the messages I get are such FABULOUS blog-fodder that I can't bring myself to cut it off completely. I just sit back, relax, and read the asinine messages that roll in. Like this one from earlier today:

hi can i chat with you, dont worry i will get a vasectomy so i will never ever get you pregnant ok, now can we chat.

The grammer nazi that I am isn't going to go into the horrific run-on sentence this is, or it's use of incorrect punctuation. The fact is that a man I've never talked to, MUCH LESS EVEN MET, has offered me the "gift" of his vasectomy.

Has 21st century wooing evolved into offering a snipped vas deferens? Call me old-fashioned, but I'd rather just be given a bunch of daisies. Yeah, thanks.

Explaining the Unexplained....

For years, mysterious crop circles have appeared in fields that cannot be explained. But here in Pasadena, we don't have any fields to be puzzled over. But we do have miles of concrete, which is the perfect breeding ground for another unexplained phenomenon:

POOP CIRCLES.

I've seen many a pavement poop circle in the 8+ months I've lived here, but I never seem to have my camera with me to document the weirdness. Until today. I wonder why this person has made THIS their personal mission. Maybe they think it's their civic duty to save the bottoms of their fellow citizens' shoes via chalk circles. Maybe they want to scold lazy dog walkers. But whatever the reason, there's undoubtedly some passion behind it.

And the Pasadena Poop Circler (PPC) will change things up a bit. Sometimes they will deviate from the simple circle, and draw a cute little cloud around the pile of dung. And if it's laying in the grass adjacent to the sidewalk, they will draw a helpful little "POOP------>" , with a helpful arrow pointing towards it.

Who is the PPC? A courteous crapping canine possessing incredible dexterity with a piece of chalk? But the most likely scenario...it's probably just an eccentric Pasadena poop-a-phobe. But I still like the idea of a artistic dog with chalk and endless bowel movements. Let me live in my fantasy world.

My ultimate dream in this situation is to find some brown chalk to draw a small likeness of a swirling pile of doo next to the already established circles. Just to see if my chalk drawing gets a chalk circle from the elusive PPC.

Hmmm. I wonder if CVS is still open. And sells colored chalk.

NOTE: Devoting an entire post about feces makes me think I should clear up any confusion: I am a 30 year-old woman, not a 13 year-old boy. In case you were wondering.

My Politically Incorrect Doggy Bag

I busted into some leftover thai food for dinner tonight. Upon closer inspection, I noticed what the take-out container said:I didn't think that referring to things as "Oriental" was acceptable anymore. Am I wrong? Or is this 1952?

An Open Letter to Girl Scout Cookies....

Stop looking at me. I gave you up for Lent. In fact, it's not just you...I gave ALL sugar up for Lent. Trust me, I'd eat you by the SLEEVE if I could, but I can't. I made a promise, and I think that promise has even helped me shed a couple pounds. So see??? It's been a good thing for me.

We will rendezvous the day after Easter, on my couch. I swear. I'll be the one with the tall glass of milk. In the meantime, just stay in the freezer and leave me the hell alone.

Thanks,
Jen

My Wish.

Do you remember wearing banana clips in your hair? In case you don't remember (or are a guy, and have no earthly business knowing what they are), here are a few:

This is NOT a banana clip:

Sorry, found the above picture while I was searching on google image...I HAD to figure out a way to use it in this post. Back to the hair care subject at hand.

I love banana clips. I pine for them. And my wish is that they were cool again. Back when they were in style, I was 13, and my hair looked like this:

This is not me. It's Dorothy Hamill during some Olympic medal ceremony. But that is EXACTLY what my hair looked like. Not banana clip-friendly. Or looking-like-a-girl-friendly either. But that is a WHOLE other can of worms we're not going to address today.

Now I have long, thick hair. With a set of hot rollers and a banana clip, I would be unstoppable. (At least in my head I would be.) Plenty of things have come back in style. For instance, skinny jeans made a return to being trendy, so why can't banana clips? Maybe in the meantime, I will go ahead and bring them back anyway. Lindsay Lohan brought leggings back into our lives without asking our opinion, so I will charge forward with the banana clip movement.

Who's with me?? Anyone?

No one?

Crap.

Well, how about we bring banana clips back, Levar Burton style?

*It's plain to see I had WAY to much fun on Google Image this morning.

Plenty of fish in the sea? More like plenty of FREAKS.

I think I'm done with internet dating that doesn't cost money. Not to say that the paid sites aren't teeming with weirdos, because they are. They're all a cross-section of society, so no matter where you go, some of our fellow humans we meet are just downright strange. I've used both Match.com and Eharmony in the past, but I've gotten considerably more odd messages from the free sites. Most notably, http://www.plentyoffish.com/.

Today, I bring you another charming internet dating exchange, compliments of the aforementioned Plenty of Fish. The following is an email I received from a member no more than 30 minutes ago:

"How would you like to have a guy give you a nice foot massage, then suck your toes and lick your feet while you relax for as long as you want? Let me know if you would be interested. Looking forward to hearing from you soon! Alex"

Ready? Set? GROSS.

No, I didn't mention 'hang out with my totally awesome feet' as one of my interests on my dating profile. And by the way, I did not change his name to protect his anonymity. Alex doesn't deserve protection. WOMEN are the ones needing protection from a creepshow that thinks this is an ok way to introduce themselves. Ladies, if you're surfing through Plenty of Fish, and a foot-loving dude named Alex sends you a message, save yourself the 12 seconds of message reading, and delete without remorse. Unless you're strangely proud of your feet...and if that's the case, you crazy kids just might hit it off.

And you know what? That's not even the worst message I've received while being on this site. But I can't bring myself to post them because they're pure trash. While I know I can post whatever the hell I want on my blog, I'd still like this forum to maintain a SHRED of dignity.

And of course, nothing screams "dignity" like talking about a creep from the internet with a foot fetish. Oh yeah, and lest we forget, there was also "sugar tits". That was a shining moment as well.

Ah, the blessing that is internet dating.

This evening, I was having my first instant message conversation with a gentleman I'd met on my latest interweb dating venture, Plenty of Fish. I'm still not totally sold on this site, but it's free. I'm skeptical that my soul mate is on this site, but it keeps me out there, meeting people. That skepticism intensified tonight, and apparently I'm getting what I'm paying for, which is nothing. What seemed to be a fun, sweet, lighthearted conversation with a seemingly good guy took a VERY unexpected turn at the end.

His sign off?

"Talk to you later, Sugar-tits."

Um, thanks pal. I'm floored at your gallantry. Proof positive that romance is not dead. I can't wait to talk to you again. Really. Of course, you ARE a San Francisco Giants fan. I should have seen it coming a mile away.

NOTE: Let it be known that the pictures I put on my profile do NOT suggest that such a nickname would be acceptable. I would happily show my 99 year-old grandmother any of the pictures I posted.

Evidence our Country is in REAL Trouble.

Turns out there is real proof that America is in crisis. Is it the unemployment numbers reaching double digits? The plunging stock market? Increased home foreclosures? No, it's the fact that Tyler Perry's Madea Goes to Jail was #1 at the box office for the second straight week.

And no, I haven't seen Madea Goes to Jail. But I'm still confident that it's crap. Why? Because it's been done before, and I already saw it back in the 80's. It's called Ernest Goes to Jail. And that was a festering turd of a movie.

And you know what? This is not the first time a film of this caliber made it this far. This is actually the third movie I've noticed in this disturbing trend. Remember my post on Beverly Hills Chihuahua? That was the first offense. The next time I noticed it, it was for Paul Blart, Mall Cop. I was so horrified at this development that I couldn't bring myself to blog about it. But now with Madea, our bad movie alert level has just been raised from yellow to orange, and I feel it's my civic duty to make this plea:

PLEASE, go see something else. ANYTHING ELSE. If you haven't seen it yet (or even if you already have), go see Slumdog Millionaire. Amazing movie. There's a reason it's getting so much press. Spend your money on that one.

I'm Wanted for Murder.

My roommate has been out of town for the last week. Before she left, she entrusted me to watering her happy, pink flowering plant from her bedroom. She even brought it downstairs to the living room to hang out with my other plant so I could water them together. I was more than happy to, as I'm hoping to add more plants to my house and backyard, so this would be a great chance to test out my green thumb that I SO desperately wanted to cultivate. The following picture is a result of my 'care'.

I'm at a loss...I've given both plants the same amount of water, sunlight, and love. There's a few pink blooms hanging on, yes, but the rest of the plant is heading south quickly. I brought in reinforcements. My mom, a seasoned gardener happened to be at my place on Friday morning, and I told her my concerns. She said, "Maybe you over-watered it. Put it outside on your patio for a day or two, and it should perk up."

And the picture above is what greeted me this morning. It looked even worse. Horrified, I brought the plant back inside so it could spend it's final days under 24-hour care. A sort of "botany-hospice".

Maybe this plant didn't WANT to live. Or maybe my plant killed it out of jealousy. Or just maybe I'm to blame. But no matter who's fault it is, my roomie is home tomorrow. At this point, I need a freaking miracle. This plant is by the front door...the first thing she'll see when she returns from her long cross-country journey. When she asked what happened to her beloved plant, I will simply give this explanation:

"It was Colonel Mustard, in the Living Room, with the lead pipe."

It would be real nice if you all backed me up on this theory.

Because I'm awesome.

Don't you hate when you're in the car, and an awesome song comes on the radio just as you're reaching your destination? This was playing when I pulled up to a work meeting this afternoon. So I stayed in the car until it was over. And I rocked out.

Judge me if you want. I don't care.

An Ode to Cheese.

I realize that I've maintained this blog for over a year, and have yet to really talk about my love of cheese, although the title section of my blog claims that I do. Let's fix that.

Cheese. Fromage. Queso. However you say it, it's mankind's greatest accomplishment. And no, mankind's greatest accomplishment is NOT landing on the moon. That's a distant #2. Here's a rundown of some of my favorite cheeses:

The first stop on our tour is the Apricot Stilton. Trader Joe's carries a great one. (And if you don't live near a Trader Joe's, I don't know what to tell you. Except that you should MOVE.)
This cheese is STUPID good. In my opinion, the stinkier the cheese, the better it is. And you can't go wrong with the fruity/stinky combination. Delish.

Next up, Pepper Jack. My love affair with this stuff started in college. There's nothing highbrow about this one. It simply rules.

The next cheese is Brie. A longtime favorite of mine. The best way to enjoy this is baked. Try and keep up now:

1. Buy a wheel of brie
2. Slather some fruit preserves on top (apricot or raspberry are my preferences)
3. Wrap the whole thing in puff pastry.
4. Bake that sucker.
5. Eat it.
6. Don't share it with anyone.
7. Wash it down with a glass of wine.
8. Pass out from a wine/cheese induced coma.
9. Repeat as needed. Lastly, cheddar. The original gangster, when it comes to cheese, as far as I'm concerned. I prefer a sharp, well aged white cheddar.

There are a few exceptions. Below are 3 cheeses I don't get anywhere near. After all, a girl has to have her standards:

1. Swiss cheese. I hate the taste and it gives me some NASTY gastrointestinal...um, issues. And while I normally like stinky cheese, the smell of Swiss sickens me. Also, paying for cheese that's full of holes makes me think that I'm paying for a bunch of wasted space. No thank you.

2. American cheese. This is not cheese. The only time this should be used is to hide a pill in it for the dog. Otherwise, have some respect for yourself, and just go straight for a nice sharp cheddar.

3. Spray cheese. This is the polyester of cheese. Aerosol and metal cans should not be part of the fromage equation. Gross. The inventor of Easy Cheese should be strung up by his toenails.

I hope your horizons have been slightly broadened. Or that you're at least a little hungry. I also hope that my lactose intolerant readers haven't needed to pop a Lactaid from reading this.

Interesting (or maybe not interesting to anyone else) side note: I hated cheese as a kid. HATED IT.

I have this song in my head on repeat today.

I love Helen Reddy. LOVE HER. And yes, I'm 30, not 65.

I fear my mild-mannered office mate Jasmin will murder me before the end of the day if I can't hit the "shuffle" button in my head and turn off "repeat". This is a very real possibility.

Economy Rant

I'm a recruiter for a school. With our economic downturn, calls from people needing jobs have become more and more desperate. I have fewer and fewer jobs to offer them, if they're even qualified to apply for them in the first place. I'm beyond blessed to be more financially secure than I've ever been, and the only complaint I have with two jobs is that I work TOO much. I'm sure most of our country's unemployed would tell me to go screw with that last statement. Sorry.

And, as bad as I feel about the lack of jobs I have to offer my applicants, this evening's rant is actually about salesmen. Allow me to explain: these fools are desperate right now. Just as desperate as the unemployed, because a lot of their livelihood depends on commission from selling their crap. And no one has money, so no one can buy their crap. But they're worse, because they are obnoxious on top of being desperate. A craptacular combination. Salesman of the world, hear this: I get that you need to make a living, but the rules have not changed just because the economy has taken a dump. Calling someone five times a day will not make a sale. It will only piss them off.

*Robert from CareerBuilder.com, if you're reading this, yes, YOU inspired this post. I was feeling bad that I can't buy a job-post package from you, but you've rapidly lost my sympathy, and you've crossed over into the 'annoying' category. Leave me the hell alone. And yes, my receptionist told me how much you called today. I was totally screening your ass.

Jen vs. Jenn

My name is spelled Jen. Not Jenn. The extra N annoys us Jens that have chosen a life of a single N'ed nickname. That extra N looks like we're asking you to stutter when you pronounce it. One N is enough.

HOWEVER, my full name is spelled Jennifer, and I think Jenifer looks positively freakish and misspelled. I am ok with this inconsistent rationale, but for reasons I can't really justify except for that's just the way I like it.

In summation:
Jen...thumbs up
Jenn...me no likey
Jennifer...correct
Jenifer...ridiculous
Thanks for your attention.

NOTE:***I uphold the utmost respect for all the Jenns out there. I don't begrudge you for wanting your extra N, it's what's normal to you. I just don't understand how you're able to get up every day and face the world. That's all.

I've found the love of my life.

It's happened. It's finally happened. At long last, I've found love. My soul's counterpart. The yin to my yang. We fit so well, it's like we've always been together. And I can't imagine my life without him.

He finishes my sentences. Literally. He is...the Pentel Energel Liquid Gel Ink, blue, with a .7 mm metal tip. And ladies, you can't deny it's all about that .7 metal tip. It leaves me terribly satisfied.

I have a friend with a STRONG attachment to her collection of writing instruments. I will allow her to remain anonymous. :) And while it's fun to use all sorts of different color pens, I don't think I quite got it until now. But I get it now. OH, I GET IT. There's nothing better than a smooth writing pen with a consistent flow of ink. Not too much ink, and NEVER too little. And that glistening blue ink...ahhhhhh. It transcends all other blues, leaving them in the dust. And don't even get me started on the cushiony, grooved finger grip. Heaven.

Is it possible that this post will cause some to think my life is small? Devoid of meaning? Well, I don't care. Do not mock our love.

JK + Pentel .7 4-eva! Holla.

Favorite quote of the weekend.

"How do people in the Midwest live without tacos and drag queens?"
-my friend Vrej's friend, Marissa

I don't know, Marissa. I JUST DON'T KNOW. And I don't want to know.

Not fair.

This looks way better than what I had for dinner last night.

Looking back and looking forward. Thoughts on Inauguration Eve....

In case you've been living under a large rock, tomorrow is the historic Inauguration Day for president-elect Barack Obama. I'm sure this is one of a 937,856,362 different blog posts on this subject, but I figured I'd throw my two cents in as well.

It's no secret the more than 3/4 of America is beyond glad that today is George W. Bush's last day in office. To say he's leaving office on a low note is an understatement. We're in a recession. Unemployment is approaching double digits. We're engaged in two wars with no end in sight. But I don't think President Bush is a monster. I don't think he's evil. I don't think anyone gets into that office without an unwavering love of their country, and wanting to do the very best job they can. It would be difficult not to be humbled by the awesome responsibility of Commander-in-Chief. Could someone else have done a better job? It's very likely. But is he a bad man? No.

I'm excited to see what the next four years brings. I want Mr. Obama to do well. I want great things to happen for the U.S. It's wonderful to see everyone so inspired, hopeful, and excited for the future in these tough times. But I worry for Mr. Obama. I think a lot of people have such high hopes. They are expecting a miracle. His approval is so high, it has nowhere to go but down. After the pomp and circumstance of the inauguration is over tomorrow, the same challenges await our country, and they will not be easy to solve. It's not that I'm jaded or looking at the glass as half empty, I'm just trying to be realistic. He has promised "Change" throughout his campaign. But change isn't going to come overnight. I hope everyone is patient. Even Obama has said that the economy is going to get worse before it gets better. But it's hard for people to be patient when we live with a hungry media that pounces on the slightest misstep. It's tough to stay unaffected by it.

But you know what? Change WILL come. It's life...and that's what life does. It changes. Mahatma Gandhi said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." Don't wait for Obama's change. If you want change, YOU have to be that change. Take personal responsibility for it...it's not just up to Obama.

I make no sense.

Why is it that when I work out, I make better choices with what I eat? Probably because I'm working hard to better myself physically, so I don't want to derail any progress with a metric ton of chocolate. This makes sense.

On the flip side, when I don't work out, I'll devour whatever is in front of me...which is actually the time I should be MORE careful about what I'm shoving down my throat, but I don't. This makes NO sense.

Currently, I'm having a hard time motivating myself to work out. Go ahead and guess what my present eating habits are like.

Ooo, look...a cupcake. Gotta go.

Geez.

I don't hate many things in this world. But I hate earthquakes.

California, knock it off.

I'm still here...sorta.

*SIGH.*

I'm sorry. I've been slacking on my ranting. We all know what the hustle and bustle of holidays do to us. It sucks our will to live. But thankfully, I've made it out to the other side, aka 2009. The rants will come back. I promise.

Truthfully, I've been bumming a little. I'm not sure what it is...a combination of things, really. Holiday/post-holiday stress. Worries about money. What direction I'm supposed to go in life, and the occasional lack of motivation to figure that out. Complete annoyance and frustration with my ridiculous dating life (or lack thereof). Exhaustion after a busy semester doing 2 jobs and school. Feeling in a rut at work. And a bunch of other crap I can't control. But as my friend Cindy says, "That's when it's time to put on your big girl panties and deal with it." Because, all in all, things really aren't that bad, and there's a lot to be thankful for. My family and friends are healthy. I have employment when so many others don't. I live in my favorite corner of Southern California in a beautiful townhouse. I'm going on a BITCHIN' vacation at the end of the month. Not bad.

But when I'm bumming, the first thing to go is the humor in my writing. It's one thing to listen to me rant, but it's another thing to listen to me bitching. They are two very separate things, and I refuse to let this blog become that kind of forum. Ok, so maybe that's what it is tonight. But typing about it is already making me feel better. So, onward and upward!

One thing that I thought might pull me out of this funk is to be doing something creative. I've found it's something that soothes me, feeds my soul, and gives me purpose. I spent the last semester taking a photography class, and trying to absorb as much information and knowledge that I could. Now I have all these pictures, and no place to showcase them. So I've started another blog. One that is solely devoted to my photography. However, everything I took last semester is on film, not digital, and it will take me a while to get that converted so I can upload them. But for the time being, I've started uploading some of my existing work from the last couple years. And now that I've taken this class, I now don't think they're as great as I used to think they were. And that's ok. Over time, it will show the progression of where I started, to where I am now, and beyond. So take a moment and check it out if you feel so inclined. I've done a few posts, just so there's something on there to get started. I want this new blog to be a motivation for me to get out there and constantly be taking pictures.

Here it is...now don't all of you rush to the new blog all at once. We don't need to be crashing the site. ;)
Photos by JK

Ahhhh...it feels good to post again.