Sunday, October 15, 2006

That's gotta be SOME Bee!

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So I found this sign over at my new favorite website, and I guffawed out loud. You see, I'm terrified of bees. Am I allergic? No. Almost wish I was though cause then I'd have an excuse for running and screaming across the room. Perhaps it stems from the fact that my practical joke father use to kill bugs and then chase us down the hall with them smashed in a paper towel. After a while he'd just have to crumple up a paper towel and chase us with that, no bugs in sight. Well this reminded me of a couple funny bee related stories.

Let's see, well I once heard my ultra conservative and sweet mother utter her first swear word in my presence due to a bee. We had been picnicking at a park full of yellow jackets when one had apparently dug it's way into the sexy orange tweed car seat cover in our butterscotch van with the large side pipes. As we were driving out of the park it stung her on the behind and she said a word starting with SH** and swerved all over the road. Us kids were shocked and awed that day.

Another time on one of our famous family camping trips, my sister and I were sitting quietly in the first row of seats, listening to Olivia Newton John on the 8-track when all of the sudden (in the days before AC and the windows were all open) a monster of a huge bee (it was very large, and orange and black, though no one believes me now) flew in the front window and right between us. Simultaneously and with the grace of synchronized swimmers, we both threw our heads towards the middle of the car and screamed, both hitting each others head with such force that we almost knocked ourselves unconscious. We get mocked to this day over that story.

Just recently my hubby of 5 years got to see some bee fear in action. He really didn't know of my phobia and we were all getting into the car. About 2 feet in front of us was a little creek running though some property. We all get buckled in when I hear a buzzing down by my door. I look just in time to see a yellow jacket stuck inside the car. I flip out and start screaming, I threw my head into my husbands lap, lay sideways in my seat, and tried to kick open the door and unbuckle my seat belt at the same time. He had no IDEA what was happening and almost drove our car into the creek. 

Finally I get untangled, open the door, and start running. The bee flew out and I get back into the car. His adrenaline was pumping, I had freaked him out and he was now MAD. The step kids in the back seat were mad. As we pulled down this long driveway it was deathly silent and I could feel glares at the back of my head like heat rays. Suddenly the madness wore off and almost at the same time everyone burst out laughing. I felt totally stupid... but sheepishly told them of my irrational fear of bees. Anyway, so when I saw this sign I started to worry what kind of BEE would need a sign like that?! Makes ya wonder. I'm staying clear of Japan just in case.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

I'm back... and I've brought weapons!

OK so I've been away for awhile. My little one (the mini acrobat) gleefully ran off a kitchen chair a few weeks back and broke her arm, so I've been distracted with all the trauma that goes along with an injured child. Now that she's on the mend I'm feeling much more like writing again. I apologize for the hiatus and promise more fun stories and pictures. Speaking of which, I must share with you my favorite picture from a Halloween a few years back...
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At first you must be saying to yourself, WOW, that must of been SOME party. Especially considering the fact that there was no alcohol involved. I love this picture for the fact that you can just stare at it and try to make some kind of story about it. Let's break it down.

Well at first you might see the poor hapless teenager who goes by the common name of "Jenny" (written on her skirt). I happen to know for a fact that this is not her name, so she's assuming the identity of cheerleaders every where with a name they can relate to.
That's Jenn with TWO n's 

She's not looking at her ever present attacker, but smiling slyly for the camera. Then there's chick wearing the heart on her head. She smiles knowingly as something bad is about to happen. Love IS blind, they say... here they mean it literally.

Then we've got a bee type character off to side. Hey, there's always bee's around pooh as he searches for honey. Then, the more obvious characters. There a very randy Austin Powers taking it all in - with what appears to be at least 3 gym socks in his trousers. He's quite out of place for this picture, but makes it all the more interesting. Lastly, we have Pooh. Beloved storybook character from yesteryear. However as we can see, pooh is on a mission. Pooh looks beYOND annoyed and has found a machete somewhere in the 100 acre woods and is wielding it around in a chopping-like fashion at on lookers. Has the cheerleader done something to deserve this, or has pooh gone mad? Either way it makes for one GREAT picture.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

I'm not crazy - I just look it

So I thought I'd share with you a nice little short story from yesterday. I spent most of the day playing with my almost 2 year old daughter and taking care of her little 3 month old sister. The baby was napping and the toddler and I were have a rousing game of peek-a-boo using a blanket. She was having a blast and would throw the blanket over her head and walk around like E.T. in the Halloween scene. I would peek underneath the blanket and she would giggle with glee. Then she'd rip the blanket off both of our heads and start over. This went on for a while, and unbeknownst to me, my hair was becoming quite the disheveled mess.

About a 1/2 hour later I hear the doorbell ring, and without thinking, go to answer it. It was a carpet cleaning service lady who was offering a special. I stood there holding one baby, the other one clinging to my leg. I was glancing nervously around to make sure the cat didn't bolt out the small opening, and patiently listened to this lady's speech. I politely declined and closed the door. Then I happened to walk by our entry table mirror and saw what was probably the most frighteningly large, poofy, mass of hair ever to grace to the top of my head! I was MORTIFIED. It was sticking out in all directions and here the nice lady had said nothing! I was one step away from the tattered robe, bunny slippers, and ciggy hanging out of my mouth in the classic trailer housewife cliche. Heck, the pink curlers would of been a grave improvement. She must of thought I was stark-raving shifty-eyed MAD. Hopefully it was more like a mad scientist mad, and not plum loco. Hey, even Einstein had some wacky crazy hair. Maybe he was just playing peek-a-boo??

Monday, August 07, 2006

The Power of the Winky Smiley Face

So, I've come across a handy little accessory in the last few weeks. It's able to leap tall buildings in a single bound... ok maybe not...but it sure is helpful in getting one out of some sticky situations. Behold the power of the cute little winky smiley face! Oh sure, he's a tad unassuming, and not as popular as his football captain cousin, the "happy face" - but in the land of cyber space chat and cell phone texts this little face can say a LOT.

It's come to my attention that you can almost say ANYTHING mean, edgy, untruthful, or sarcastic to someone, and follow it up with a winky smiley face and bam, no harm done. It's like a cute little yellow get out of jail free card.

This came in handy just the other day, when I chastised a coworker who was using company property for personal use on the same weekend I needed the equipment to work from home. I was slightly ticked and in the heat of the moment sent what is probably the meanest text ever, which said, "Thanks for taking the food out of my kids mouths". I panicked as soon as I hit send, knowing it was too late to get anything back. As I sat dreading the impending reply... suddenly everything was ok again. Much to my surprise I got back a rather friendly reply with a "you're killing me" in regards to my comment. I quickly sent a winky smiley face to cover my butt and immediately got one in return. Phew. Of course it might help if you have a sarcastic nature to start with, so people are expecting you to be funny - but the winky smiley face definitely helped.

My friend Jill says that one should be careful when tapping into the power of the winky smiley face. She says one day there might come a time when the winky smiley face won't be able to repair what's been said. So far he's worked every time, but it's probably good to heed her warning none the less. So the next time you're cyber space chatting and maybe say something you shouldn't of, or get yourself into a tricky texting pickle, try out the good old winky smiley face. He's "just kidding" with an attitude.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Outsmart the Fart!

So we have a phrase at our house that I'd like to share with you. It's called "Outsmart the Fart". It's a great phrase, has two separate meanings, and it's so catchy and fun to say that I can see it easily sweeping the nation in the not too distant future. It originated from one of our classic kitchen white board moments, where you blurt out something with out thinking and it becomes an instant family classic.

Well as some of you know, if one were to "pass gas" so to speak, that gas (seemingly thicker than air) can quickly immerse in and around said farter. If that same said farter were say, to directly walk into the room, the gaseous cloud would waft on in right behind them thus leaving the entire room to smell the inner workings of their bowels.

HOWEVER. If a fore mentioned farter started out in the direction of the room, but quickly and without provocation doubled BACK from whence they came, (rightly confusing the noxious fog) then whip around in an rapid about face before traveling into the new room, the lost fart, not knowing which way to go would head in the opposite direction, and all in the room entered would be safe. Soon, it became a matter of courtesy. If a smell lingered about you, politely "double back" before entering a new room... and the phrase "Outsmart the Fart" was born.

Now the phrase seems to pop up whenever we talk about trying to outsmart a clever person or find the most desirable conclusion to tricky situation. For example: Hey your boss wants you to work this weekend but we've got those concert tickets, we should try and "outsmart the fart" and see if you can get out of it. Or borrowing from my many new motherhood experiences: Hey we want to eat some ice cream but we don't want the baby to see, so we'll have to be sneaky and "outsmart the fart" so they'll still want to go to bed on time. Remember, it's a great multipurpose, catchy phrase. So feel free to take our "Outsmart the Fart" and run with it... just be sure to double back first.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

20 more random facts about me:

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I'm sure you were sitting around saying to yourself, - "self, I just need to know a bit more about this girl they call "Jenn". What makes her tick and where does all this wackiness come from?" Yes I heard your inner-most thoughts and have posted a few more peculiar facts about myself for your bemusement. Enjoy

1. I'm afraid of Oompa Loompas. The song creeps me out

2. I have a talking Donald Trump doll - who fires you and gives business advice

3. I have double jointed thumbs and can bend them back over the top of my hand

4. I like ketchup, spaghetti sauce, and salsa, but NOT tomatoes

5. I can scratch the inside of my throat by making this somewhat annoying snorting sound

6. One of my favorite candies is red hots

7. I can tell entire bedtime stories in "spoonerisms" (see link below)

8. If timed correctly, I can make an entire free lunch from Costco samples

9. I can sleep with the lights and TV on, but turn everything off and I'm wide awake

10. I once jumped off a pretty steep hill going "on a lion hunt" in preschool. It's one of my earliest memories and I thought the lion was going to "get" me after we found it. I ran in a panic and leaped off the embankment

11. My baby threw up in my mouth last week. Gross

12. I like to dye the marshmallows in my rice crispie treats different colors

13. I've been behind the scenes /employee area at Disneyland - saw Mickey with his head off

14. I'm a sucker for Yankee candles - especially butter cream

15. I can text in T9 without looking down at the phone once

16. I always play the end of a classical piece first, if it ends lame, I won't play it, OR I'll make up my own ending. What do those timeless composers know anyway?

17. I get annoyed if people or companies do not color the rainbow properly ROY. G. BIV.

18. I just got my first mailing from the AARP. They're over 16 years off but jeez it freaked me out.

19. I have met in person my four musical inspirations. Amy, Amy, Emily, and Patty

20. My wedding registry included a bag of Cheetos. I received two

Spoonerism link

Monday, July 17, 2006

Love you Forever... or until mommy DIES!

I must be one cold-hearted, non feeling bitty. My sis in law gave me a bedtime story book as a gift for baby #2. She says she cries every time she reads it. Matter of fact, she almost started crying telling me she cries when she reads it. I'm thinking, wow, this must be a good book. Never could I have been more wrong. The book in question is apparently a "classic" (for the life of me can't figure out why) that's been around since 1945. How did I go this long without knowing about it I'll never know but I am so relieved it was never read to me when I was an impressionable child. The title of the book? "Love you Forever".

The story starts out ok, very sweet actually... but then it get's weird fast. Starts with a mother and her young infant son. After he's sleeping she crawls across the floor and then rocks him singing a lullaby. As the boy ages and starts to do bad things the mother continues to crawl across the floor, when he's nine he starts swearing in front of grandma (the little punk), when he's a teenager he smells and eats pizza, still she's crawling. Here's the ringer, now he's grown up, an adult who moves out on his own. Late in the middle of the night the mother straps a ladder to the roof of the station wagon, drives across town, breaks in through a window, CRAWLS across the floor and rocks her full grown son singing him that same creepy lullaby.

"I love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be".

Shortly after that, she's too old and decrepit to go stalking, so the son comes and rocks her, calling her "mommy" in the song instead of baby. Then, she dies. The man then goes in and sings the same song to his infant daughter.

Now the people that LOVE this book say it's a story of a mother's never ending unconditional love. Other people who detest the book find it creepy that she's stalking and rocking a full grown son. Here's my problem with the book. WHY IS SHE CRAWLING?? Maybe when the baby is tiny, you might crawl so they don't see you, but then you drive across town, breaking and entering into your grown sons' house... and still you crawl across the floor? If she can handle a stick shift and a ladder, she's obviously capable of walking. And the sing-song refrain is odd too.. 'as long as I'm living'... that's a nice thought to put in a kid's head right before bed. Hey, Susie, we're all mortal, oh yeah, and mommy will DIE one day... sweet dreams?That's nice.

What's with all this morbid stuff for kids anyway? Grim fairy tales, Ring around the Roses (about the plague), Rock-a-bye-baby (nice lullaby about an infant falling out of tree), and other stories and songs from the past that have death, dying, and maiming as the underlying theme? When you've got this beautiful, tiny child in your arms, the last thing I want to do is remind them life sucks and I'm gonna die. This world's a wacky place, let's try to keep the children loved and safe as long as possible. Oh yeah, and whatever you do, don't read them this book.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Painful Timewarp

So what the heck happened to June... or the end of May for that matter? Nothing like having a new baby to make you lose all sense off time and space. What with all the early morning feedings, burpings, and endless diaper changes, makes ya wonder how people don't go loopy at the thought of it. Matter of fact, while trying to type this very blog I was puked upon and had to go give a bath and clothing change to the little one, not to mention myself as well. It should also be noted that I am typing this entire entry with one hand, as I am now re-feeding the baby and balancing the end of the bottle with my chin. Damn, if only there was an Olympic medal for multitasking...I'd sweep up.

So much time has passed since my last entry that it would be safe to say I've fallen victim to what we like to call at our house a "painful time warp". Many moons ago... ok like 5 years ago (what's that, like 60 moons?), when I first got married to my hubby, I inherited teens (his teens, two of them) - who turned out to be quite funny in their own right. Hubby and I happened to be in the kitchen and step teen #1 was around the corner in the living room, talking loudly and right in the middle of a long story. She was moving about while she talked and all of the sudden made this squeak/scream/gasping noise accompanied by a thunk (like she had fallen down) - then dead silence. We both looked at each other as the moments ticked on without a sound... then she all of the sudden started talking, picking up right where she left off, like nothing had happened. No explanation of the horrible noise was given. Suddenly we both started laughing and I blurted out, "What the heck happened, did you fall into a painful time warp?" It was like she'd been sucked off the planet for a few seconds (painfully) then placed back in the same spot, just a few seconds off, with no recollection of being gone. And thus, a new family phrase was born. So if you ever have a span of time you can't quite account for, chalk it up to a "Painful Time warp".

Friday, May 26, 2006

Maternity Madness and Midnight Chicken

So I thought I would pause from my growing up stories to share some wackiness from the labor/recovery room. I just had my second child last week via C-section and had some very funny observations and odd situations happen to me during my three day stay - so I thought I'd share them with you.

1. Ceiling Stains - First, the stain above my bed. I noticed right away as they wheeled me into the recovery room. It was directly in my line of sight anytime I laid down (which was often) and almost gave the appearance of a rusty flower or water stain. My hubby and I stayed up late the second night thinking of what it could possibly be. Besides the obvious and slightly creepy thought it was a blood stain dripping down from the floor above, my personal favorite was the "explosive diarrhea" theory in which some poor soul must of had to flip over rapidly and crap 8 feet straight up. Almost laughed my stitches out on that one.

2. Sleep Deprivation - They intentionally don't let you sleep the first night after a C-section. Usually patients come in with little or no sleep to begin with the night before, and after what is considered a major abdominal surgery, they systematically come in about every 20 minutes to wake you up. Just as you drift off you'll get this big BANG on the door and someone comes barging in to take your blood pressure (hello, just shot UP due to the frightening BANG on the door moments before), emptying the garbage (just got here, it's empty you fool), or taking your blood. My favorite is after you get your new baby to sleep for the first time ever, some nurse is SCHEDULED to come in at 2am, wake them up, undresses them, and take them of to give them a shot. They return exactly 20 minutes later with a screaming, AWAKE infant who wants to eat again. I equate the whole process to Chinese water torture.

3. What Dignity? - So with any surgery, they shave the area. With a C-section they cut below the "bikini line" to hide the scar. Well they only shave maybe the top 1/3 of the general area, but not the whole thing. Which leaves you with something akin to a nether-region mullet of sorts. You know, business up front, party in the back. Also they have to measure your urine output. Sexy, I know, but true. After you waddle to the porcelain throne then you are forced to page a nurse and announce to the entire nursing staff that you have just gone to the bathroom and could they come take a look see. Makes you want to gussy it up or something... add a flower or a sprig of mint. They've been looking at urine all day long, how can you make yours extra special?

4. Nourishment Heaven - So there's this little known place in the hospital. I actually conceived my second child just to get back to it. It's the nourishment kitchen for patients. Located conveniently down the hall from your room is the ultimate mecca for post-pregnant woman cravings. There's not much in the way of actual "nourishment", but it's a little slice of heaven. Refrigerators full of juices, Popsicles, ice cream, pudding, crackers, snacks. All free and for the taking. I felt it my duty to stock up and get my money's worth. I couldn't get enough pudding and free juice. They give you these big ol' cups that hold 28 oz (or 700CC's). I literally had over 20 of these full of juice and crushed ice over the 4 day period. My hubby added that up, and it's FIVE GALLONS of juice. WOW. That explains the mouth full of canker sores I've got now and the unending need to pee every hour. But gosh it was worth it.

5. Passing Gas gets you Better Food - Never in my life has this many people been interested in the movement of my bowels. The question on everyone's mind and lips, from nurses to random doctors wandering by the door... had I farted yet??!! After abdominal surgery the way they tell if your body is getting back to normal is if you pass gas. One nurse revealed to me that farting would put me on the fast track to better food! What what what? Apparently I was on the "soft food" diet, nothing too spicy and everything just perfect for a grandpa with no teeth to eat. Try as I might there was no gas the first day. Finally the second night at about 3am it happened. I triumphantly thought of paging the entire floor and announcing my news, but held back and just told my personal nurse when she wandering in at 3am to make sure I wasn't sleeping. The next morning they brought in the breakfast tray. What wonders would I behold? The day before it had been plain eggs and a blueberry muffin. Today I open the lid and... it was plain eggs and a bran muffin. Was I jipped? The only noticeable difference was that they offered pepper, and coffee instead of tea. What a crock. However it DID pay off the third morning when they brought in strawberry crepes and sausage. Now THAT's the kind a food a fart should earn my friend.

6. Nurses are Mostly Nice - but I DID flip two of them off. My nurses were the best. Many went above and beyond the call of duty, and were very sweet. Day two I went wandering down the hall for the first time with my baby in her rolling bassinet and two nurses were at the station yapping it up to each other. I approached them and tried to ask a question. My throat was sore and my voice was quiet due to the tube they stuck down my throat during the operation. They either didn't see me, couldn't hear me, or were blatantly ignoring me. I asked the same question three times and they acted like I was invisible. They ended up walking away from me and into an office. I double flipped them off which made my husband laugh uncontrollably to see his wife in a robe, next to our new infant, with a double-armed bird flipped in the air. I felt much better after that. This one other nurse barged in mid-day and I had a room FULL of friends and family visiting the baby. She announces to the ENTIRE room that she has brought me my stool softener. Gee thanks lady. I wanted to die. Luckily my wacky father asked if they could all have a stool softener too. She then I think realized there were OTHER people in the room. How nice.

7. The beauty of Midnight Chicken - Well as you recall, I was on the "soft food" diet plan for the first few days of my stay. I had been on a liquid diet the day before the surgery in an attempt not to throw up after it. So liquid the day before and nothing the whole day of. By midnight I was really really hungry. My parents had brought some chicken for my hubby to snack on, but all of the sudden that sounded amazing. We ended up sneaking a fried chicken picnic in our room in the middle of the night, with pudding to boot. Totally contraband and very mission impossible-esque. I must say it was the best tasting chicken I've had in years.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Hottub Bedlam

OK, so I have this great sister. She is an amazing, funny, wonderful person, a caring mother of three, and a women's bible study leader. Of course we've had our share of sisterly spats over the years but our friendship has always remained very strong (insert the song "Sisters, sisters - there were never such devoted sisters" from the movie White Christmas here). I can't help but remember the one time though that this thoughtful, inspirational woman once left me for dead in our hot tub.

We were out in the back yard one summer night hanging out in the hot tub, chatting away and having a grand old time. What we didn't know was that our dad was about to put some trash in the metal garbage cans on the side of our house. All we heard was the garbage can's rustling with a definite "clang" as the lid slammed down and immediately we thought "rapists" were about to attack us. Now I realize that a normal person would probably just think, hey, someone must be taking out the trash. We were not normal.  We were the kind of kids that used to run home from school at top speed (we lived less than a block away) if we saw a van heading for us in the off chance we might be abducted. After the shower curtains and harks we were a little punchy to say the least.

So back to the clanging garbage lids. We look at each other in a wide-eyed panic and then my sister springs into amazing action. In one quick motion she literally DIVES head first out of the hot tub, lands on the cement on her head and arms, clamors and crawls up the wooden deck steps (ripping her legs and hands to shreds in the process) runs across the deck, throws open the sliding glass door, runs into the house, closes the door, LOCKS it, and SHUTS the curtains. My guess is she kept running all the way to her room, not looking back for a second. 

Where was I, you ask? Well in that old "flight or fight" response I guess I choose... freeze. All I can remember is sinking down low in the hot tub, till just my eyes and nose were above the water, waiting for whatever it was to just come and get me. With the door locked and curtains closed, I really didn't have many options anyway. It was dark and still for a long time... then, to my relief, the curtains opened up, the door was unlocked, and my mom appeared in the porch light laughing. She had been startled by my sister's panicked run through the kitchen and my confused dad had just returned from taking out the trash wondering what all the hubbub was about. They just stood on the porch and laughed hysterically at us. 

My sister sheepishly appeared moments later, bleeding in a few places and pretty banged up. I finally found my courage to climb out of the hot tub, now that the threat of an immediate attack was over.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Beware of Harks!!

So we did a lot of family bonding road trips in my youth. I have ton of fun memories camping and going on day trip adventures around Washington. Of course, some road trips were more adventurous than others. Heck, even trips down the hill and through the valley to church could take on an other worldly spin if you had a good enough imagination.

Luckily for us, my dad was a never ending spring of imagination, however warped. Whenever we would drive over a bridge, whether it was one that could open up to let boats through, or something very large like the Narrows Bridge in Tacoma, he would always pretend we were running out of gas and the bridge was opening. He would unevenly tap on the gas to give the illusion we would have to stop any second. As a child you would envision the bridge opening up fully and your van out of gas sliding off into the murky water below. But that wasn't even the really scary part of our trip to church.

We lived on a hill and had to go through the valley to get where we were going. It was always foggy in the early mornings and many people would drive with only their fog lights on. Dad decided to tell us that those yellow lights were not merely cars, but glowing EYES that belonged to the legendary creature known as "THE HARK". Yes the terrible Hark that was half horse, half shark - or rather a very large shark head (with lots of teeth) on a horses' body. It could run faster than a train and traveled the valley looking for broken down cars (and especially children) to eat. Needless to say that our trips to church were never dull or boring - matter of fact I think it enhanced our spiritual life, as we spent most of the time praying our car wouldn't run out of gas on the bridge.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Always check the shower curtain...

OK, so I've decided to devote the month of May to sharing a little bit of my wacky, sometimes frightening childhood with you. You see I have this father who is a huge piratical joker. He lives for scaring the bejesus out of you and making people freak out. Might I add I'm a grown woman now, but to this DAY am leery of walking down the hallway at my folk's house if I don't know where he happens to be...

One of his favorite things when we were growing up was to hide behind closed shower curtains. You go to the bathroom and get all comfy and situated (yes, he'd wait until you were "in process") then he'd throw back the shower curtain with a gleeful roar and scare the literal crap out of you. Ah good times.

I can't tell you what kind of lasting effect this had on all of us, because my entire life, even if I'm at somebody else's house, I will ALWAYS look behind the shower curtain before using the bathroom. Heck I was 1,850 miles away at college and STILL found myself checking behind curtains just to make sure he wasn't back there. He not only like to hide in the shower, but also just to stand in the darkened doorway of the bathroom with the hall lights off and wait for one of us unsuspecting kids to come down the hall and walk INTO him. Quite frightening. Sometimes he was just his plain self, other times he used "the mask". 

I must tell you about the "mask" in it's own blog, because it was a big part of my childhood but it definitely needs it's own space of reflection. Anyway, now I'm grown up and live in my own house and I have an opaque glass shower door, which is perfect because you can not only always see IN to it but OUT of it as well. Very important.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Michael Landon Jr. - He ain't no Pa.

See this guy? Do you know who he is? Well he's Michael Landon Jr., and all I can say about him is that he ain't no Pa Ingalls. Why oh why do I detest him so? Well although he followed in his father's footsteps and started work behind a camera, he sure took this idea of "creative license" to a whole new level. A LOW level, I might add. Now while ML Sr. did veer off the original books by Laura Ingalls Wilder in order to keep the TV show going for all those years, his son ML Jr. had to go and RUIN the my absolute favorite Christian pioneer book series by "trying" to make them into TV movies.

The series in question is the "Love Comes Softly" series by Janette Oke... the amazing story of Marty, a pioneer woman who at the age of 17, finds out her new husband of 3 months is killed while they are on a wagon train west and is left abandoned and alone near a small town on the prairie. That same day a man from the town approaches her and asks her to marry him, a marriage of convenience, in order for her to take care of his little 2-year-old girl Missie who doesn't have a mother. If at the end of the harvest she wants to return east, he will pay for her passage home, but she must take his little girl with her. Oh did I mention she's 3 months pregnant? Anyway, the book series follows Marty's entire life and how her situation turns out. I HIGHLY recommend reading them.

So this Michael Landon Jr. character comes along and decides to make this a TV movie. BRILLIANT I think at first. Now everyone can see this wonderful story evolve on film. So my step teen (a huge fan of the series) and I wait with great anticipation at the first airing of this show. The story starts out right on target. Things are progressing smoothly... then, something odd happens. Although the people have the same names and roles as in the book, they start veering from the story line. poignant and touching stories are changed and "slicked" over in the most annoying Hollywood fashion, to the point where by the end of the story, everything is MUCH different than the book. The way the book tells the story is very realistic, and it would of been no problem to relay it to film, but somehow ML Jr. decided to opt for the trite and predictable changes that make the whole movie not even worth watching! Matter of fact the second TV movie in this same series is so far off the story due to all the unnecessary changes that the only thing that remains is the name of the characters.

I realize that no movie can really be just like the book, some things need to be taken out because of time, or whatever, but to completely change what was already a good story, baffles me. So I guess this is another reason for people to get back to reading. Oh and here's a tip for all you would-be producers out there. If you're going to make a TV movie about an amazing book, you might want to try reading it all the way through before you start filming.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Growing up with the Prairie

So take a good look at Pa Ingalls. Dreamy, ain't he? Good ol' Michael Landon. He's got those long flowing locks, a twinkle in his eye, and boy can he saw large planks of wood into smaller ones at the mill (ever notice that's all he did there?) like nobody's business. 

We weren't really allowed to watch much TV growing up, but nary a day passed that we all didn't sit down and catch the loving family antics of Laura, Ma, Pa, and the whole Ingalls gang. Where we truly believed that Ms. Beadle was the nicest teacher around, that Nellie and Willie were pure evil, and that Mrs. Olsen sure was a major bitty. We just couldn't seem to get enough of that quality family programming with the feel good thought provoking endings. I don't think a single episode of LHOTP went by without Pa shedding a tear or playing his fiddle, or Laura wearing that red gingham dress.

This of course led to my current uncanny ability to actually know which exact episode is airing at any moment, based on watching only the first 15 seconds of the show. I'll be like, "Oh this is the one where Nellie pretends to be crippled", or "Oh this is the one where the wild dogs attack the kids while Ma and Pa are away". My sister and I use to pass the time on long car trips trying to quiz each other on random LHOTP trivia. Like how did Ma show she was irritated in bed? (Eat popcorn angrily), or why did the girls have such nice blue dresses for church (Ma was suppose to make a dress for herself but selflessly ended up making the dresses for the girls instead), or why did Laura sell her horse Bunny? (To buy a new stove for Ma for Christmas). So go ahead, throw your hardest LHOTP trivia at me, just see if you can stump me. If you too are a Little House fanatic, trying stumping your friends, it's FUN. 

Oh, and a few holidays back, my football playing, stud of younger brother who would probably never admit to watching LHOTP as a kid shocked us all when we gathered around to play one of the quizzes on the newly released DVD's (yes of course I own them). To our amazement he got every single answer right. He sheepishly shrugged but we all knew that he too had grown up on the prairie, even if it was involuntary.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Isn't it Ironic??

So many people have a difference of opinion when it comes to the definition of ironic. Some people confuse coincidence or sarcasm with irony. There is of course the official dictionary definition of irony:


1. Expression in which the intended meaning of the words is the direct opposite of their usual sense. 

2. An event or result that is the opposite of what is expected.

My friend and I had a conversation once about Alanis Morissette's song "Isn't it Ironic". Basically all of her examples in that song are not true representations of the term irony. Rain on your wedding day, a traffic jam, when you're already late, a no smoking sign on your cigarette break, a man who's afraid to fly and his plane crashes. All of these are examples of bad luck and sometimes horrible coincidences, but are not truly ironic situations. After much discussion we DID conclude however, in a most delicious and hilarious way, that writing a song entitled "Isn't it Ironic" in which no content contained actual examples of irony, was INDEED ironic! So did Alanis know this all along? She must have - and still the debate lingers on. Here's a few links on all you'll ever need to know about the term Irony. Learn it well then lord it over others.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Happy St. Patrick's Day

So I just wanted to wish you a very Happy St. Patrick's Day. My family is of Irish descent, so I'm sure you spent it like most of us... You woke up, took a shower with your Irish Spring, dressed in shades of green, whistled an Irish tune on the way down stairs for a scrumptious bowl of Lucky Charms, frolicked around the nearest meadow in search of a four leaf clover, said "Top O' the mornin' to ya" in your best Irish accent to everyone you passed, followed a rainbow for a chance at some gold, listened to Enya, had potatoes and a delectable shamrock shake for lunch, had corn beef and cabbage for dinner, Made your way to a local Irish pub where you downed a pint of green Guinness and swapped limericks with the locals, walked drunkenly home upon which you swore you saw a leprechaun, kissed the blarney stone then dozed off in bed watching River dance.

Or you could do what my mom did and dye all of our food green for the day. Growing up we would always know it was St. Patty's Day by the menu. Often we would have green pancakes for breakfast or dinner, or green eggs, or green mash potatoes, or green mac and cheese for lunch. Even the milk was dyed green. I have happily carried this tradition on with my own little family and it's always a big hit. Anyway, just wanted to wish you a very happy St. Patrick's Day.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

So what's up with Baking Soda?

So I got to thinking the other day about baking soda and it's seemingly endless magical list of things it can do. What IS this crazy white powder and could we as a species manage to live without it now that it's so apart of our everyday lives? If it had been discovered in only recent years the government probably would of swooped down, locked it up in Area 51 and dubbed it "classified" for sure. What other substance can do things like this:

As a toothpaste
As a deodorant
As an antacid
As a facial scrub
A household cleaner
A laundry detergent
A soother of bee stings and rashes
A neutralizer of battery acid in case of spills
A rust remover
An odor neutralizer
A jewelry cleaner
A drain unclogger
A flea killer

And these are just a few. All of this PLUS you can put it in your cakes and cookies to make them light and airy. It just boggles the mind. So the next time you grab for your trusty box of arm and hammer, don't just think you're using boring old Sodium Bicarbonate, but rather you hold in your hand the most wonderful miracle powder that the world has ever seen.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Glad I'm not one of dem "smart" kids

So there are book smarts, and street smarts - but the question is, which is better? Back in junior high we had this program for "gifted" students called QUEST. Most of the kids in there were major nerds or pseudo-intellectual snobs. One of my good friends happened to be lumped in with this snooty group and luckily for us she became our spy - and so it is to her we must thank for this story.

They were all taking a trip to the ocean (west coast) for a group problem solving weekend, with games and obstacle courses. The first night there they all went down to the beach for a BBQ and campfire. They watched the sun set and roasted marshmallows, then went back to their hotel for the night. They decided to get up very early the next morning to maybe catch a glimpse of the sunrise. So down they all trot to the beach with their blankets and beach towels (with their adult teachers) and sit to watch the sunrise over the ocean. Well it keeps getting lighter and lighter out and still no sun. Finally one of them turns around and sees the sun rising over Mt. Rainier... in the EAST. That's right folks, they were sitting on the SAME beach (facing west) where they had seen the sun vanish only 12 hours before, and they were waiting to see it come back up over the same skyline.

I would of paid BIG money to see the looks on their dumbfounded faces when they realized their blunder. How must those teachers have felt? Apparently they all swore an immediate oath never to reveal this story to anyone back at school. I just have to thank my good friend for spilling the beans to me shortly after, because for once, it felt really GOOD not being considered one of them "smart" kids.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

There's a wasp in my Newton!

So it's probably a good idea that you don't know everything that's in the food you're eating. Like back in junior high when I learned how hotdogs were made and I stopped eating meat for a couple of years. Or maybe the fact that most food that is dyed red is actually made from a certain type of squashed bug. Well if it weren't for that darn Discovery Channel trying to "teach" us stuff, I never would have been swayed away from what once had been a delectable "fruit and cake" treat.

The now infamous show featured figs and the pollination of fig trees. A certain type of wasp would come down and lay their eggs in the figs, fertilizing the fig flower at the same time, and then the baby larvae would grow inside the fruit and use it as subsistence until they hatched. Now that show was on years ago, but I got it into my head that when you bite into a fig Newton, those little crunchy things I thought were fig seeds were really WASP eggs. I stopped eating them all together. Luckily in recent years those clever people at the Newton factory came up with new flavors like strawberry, raspberry, and apple, so we could potentially be back in the fruit and cake business someday soon.

So flash forward to when I meet my husband, who happens to love love love his Newtons and it is then I remember the wasp egg factor. Of course no one really wants to believe me, so I jump on my trusty internet research ban wagon to search out the truth. Guess what? I'm RIGHT! Sort of. Each fig plant needs it's own special wasp to pollinate it. The female wasp squeezes into the fruit, lays her eggs, loses her wings in the process, fertilized the fig, then dies IN the fig. Then the wasp larvae grow eating off the fig and the wingless males are born and mate with the females who do have wings. The males die (in the fig) and the females fly off with their home fig pollen stuck to themselves to go find another fig to pollinate and start the whole process over. Those crunchy little pods (or nullets/galls) are formed by wasp pollination. So the wasp larvae eat off the fig to survive and in turn, the fig digests the dead wasps to produce the energy to grow into figs. The female wasp and half her offspring give their lives so you can enjoy a fresh Newton snack cake. Mmmm Tasty. Now don't say I never taught you nothin'...

Web links for wasp-fig relations below:

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Random Facts About Me

30 Interesting Facts about me:
So you think you might want to get to know me better? I thought I'd share some of the more interesting things about me:

1. I can name the premise of any Little House episode by watching the first few frames
2. I analyze handwriting as a hobby
3. I am afraid of anything in a mask. This includes, clowns, mimes, rapists, and nutcrackers
4. I love love love roller coasters but am terrified of Ferris wheels
5. I read pretty fast and love books in general - often reading them in one day
6. I always smell my food before I take the first bite
7. I can play a song on the piano after hearing it basically once (not classical though)
8. Two things I cannot tolerate is hair in food or mold. I gag.
9. After having my first margarita, I stole a mini American flag from the main street in my town
10. I have named all my cars, and most of my plants
11. I love disco balls, but not dancing
12. I once owned supernatural fish. They were suppose to live for 6 months, but lived for almost 5 years.
13. I look behind every shower curtain before going to the bathroom thanks to my father, who use to hide behind them and jump out and scare us.
14. I get most of my Christmas shopping done by November
15. My sister and I have a made up language called the Jong e nong nong language
16. I think teenage boys smell like BO and gym socks
17. I have very strange and funny dreams. Often with movie star cameos. Some famous people who have appeared in my dreams are: Drew Carry, Meg Ryan, Janet Jackson, John Goodman, and the Indigo girls to name a few
18. I once was a radio dj for a station that played "continuous soft favorites"
19. My siblings and I have an unspoken contest to see who can make our mom cry the most with the most sentimental mother's day card
20. I didn't see a rated 'R' movie until I was 19 years old. Didn't have my first drink till I was 22
21. I will run screaming from any bee
22. I love the smell of school bus fumes
23. I love the "Far Side", "Deep Thoughts", Conan O'Brien, and Steven Wright
24. I'm a re-gifter
25. I hate shaking hands with people
26. I compose lullabies for all of my siblings children and my own when they are born
27. When I was younger, all of my socks had to perfectly match my outfit. My sock drawer was a rainbow of colors
28. I refuse to wear name tags at any function
29. Our family mascot is a boxing nun puppet
30. My favorite birthday memory was my 27th. We were completely sober but in a span of a few minutes a large group of friends had reenacted the manger scene in front of a miniature Statue of Liberty on the beach at midnight, then square danced to no music while a Korean guy clapped the beat.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

The Happiest Place on Earth?

So you're probably wondering what this picture is of? Well it's another one of those completely unplanned pictures that end up amusing me greatly. We were at Disneyland a few months back and were watching the big 50th anniversary fireworks show in front of Sleeping Beauty's castle. Everything was going just fine until my husband snapped this particular shot at the perfect shutter speed.

Not only does it look like we've just witnessed the largest atomic bomb in history, but Mickey and Walt himself are leading us into the heart of the apocalypse. It looks like our very last day on earth. I guess if you were going to be annihilated from all time and space, Disneyland would be better than most places. I just wonder if it would still be considered the "happiest" place on earth?

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

A Picture's worth 1000 words

So, take a really really good look at this picture. Go ahead. Really study it. This is a random picture I found in my husbands baby book. Why was it in the baby book nestled amongst the cute infant photos? I have no earthy idea. But once I started to look at it, I just couldn't STOP looking at it. It intrigues me. Some of the people in the photo are known, the man in the background arms a-kimbo is my husband's grandpa, the man smoking he thought was his dad but alas his dad is a non smoker. It almost caused a family scandal, but after some research we come to find out it's just an uncle -oh and his mom is the woman behind him with her arms crossed. Only trouble is, after much speculation, no one can remember when or WHY this picture happened, but more importantly, WHO in the heck was the gleeful, crazed looking woman with the gun??

What was she shooting at? Why does she look so happy? Why did she dress like that to go shoot guns in the wilderness? Did she escape from an asylum? Why is grandpa staring down the camera and not watching the action? I just can't stop staring at this picture. I stare at it until I start to laugh. I think someone could make up an entire movie plot from this one picture, it's just so rich with unanswered questions. They say a picture is worth 1000 words, but you'd have to at least double it to get your money's worth on this one. If you can't stop staring at this picture either and can come up with a clever caption or back story, feel free to share it with the rest of the class.

Monday, February 27, 2006

I name you "BATTLE SWAN"!

Seeing that I'm a little over 2 months away from having our second child, I've been on the baby name hunt. It's a lot trickier than you think. Some parents now a days have gone completely mad on trying to come up with a unique name for their baby. Alternate spellings, abuse of double letters, using too many "k's" and "y's" where there should only be "c's" and "i's", and even plain old making names up. If you want a good laugh check out this site that backs my theories.

While searching out a classy, feminine, not too popular name that also has a great meaning, I came across a few names that meant something so wacky I wondered why anyone in their right mind would consider naming their child that.

Asela (Spanish, Latin) "Donkey foal."
Bethany (Hebrew) "House of figs"
Blaise (Latin) "Lisp, stutter."
Claudia (Latin) "Lame."
Hagar (Hebrew) "Forsaken."
Jael (Hebrew) "Mountain goat."
Mallory (Old French) "Unlucky."
Mara (Hebrew) "Bitter."
Nira (Hebrew) "Plowed field."
Olinda (Greek) "Wild fig."
Rue (English) "Regret."
Silja (Scandinavian) "blind one."
Swanhild (Old German) "Battle swan."
Vega (Arabic) "Falling vulture."
Wava (Slavic) "Stranger."
Yumiko (Japanese) "Arrow child." 

If your parents are inspired to name you after a baby donkey as a newborn, you should probably spend the better part of your life with a bag over your head. Or why don't they just save you the trouble and just name you "Jenny"? Fig Newton fans can really get a double bang for their buck if they named their daughter Bethany Olinda, or 'House of Figs and Wild Figs'. That's fruit, FRUIT and cake. Consider the name Vega (Falling vulture) - heck if you're named after a dead and falling bird of prey I guess you've got no where to go but up? Or is that down?

But my favorite is Swanhild. I pictured a great army of Vikings, swords drawn and drooling, running at full speed into battle, and in front of them all is a beautiful bevy of white birds with long graceful necks... complete with little miniture Viking-horned hats. I see the other army crying and cowering in fear. The battle swans are HERE.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Minivans - A work of the Devil

The minivan. Elevated station wagon, suburban godsend, or glorified toaster? My distaste for the minivan started right from the beginning. I came from a big family with four kids, and when you have four kids, you need something BIG to lug them around in. Growing up we always had full sized vans. Vans with three rows of seats. A van where you could literally sit 9 feet behind the driver and them not being able to hear you over the 8-track due to the large distance. A van that held two parents, four kids, three friends, all their gear, and at least one dog. I guess I'm just a big van snob. Oh and our van was extra special, even "tripped out" for 1970's standards. It was butterscotch and white, with tinted windows, and sticker that said "keep on vanning" in the back window, and as a bonus came with two huge silver side pipes that got very HOT. Many a neighbor kid burnt the back of their legs getting out of our "hooptie van" as we so affectionately called it. Road scars, my dad proudly called them.

Then the minivan came along, and yuppie soccer moms everywhere rejoiced. Boxy and clumsy looking, low ceiling, and guaranteed to be going 5 mph under the speed limit in any given fast lane. They were apparently pre-wired with GPS tracking devices that refused to let them pass any Costco or Walmart parking lot. Conducting my own experiments one year, everyday on my way home from work I would keep track of how many minivans would turn into Costco or try to pass it. Almost religiously that left blinker would come on and into Costco they would turn, giving the illusion it was impossible for them to keep driving. Must buy in bulk. Must buy in bulk.

When I was a swingin' single, I was in the market for a new car. I researched the type of car I wanted (good commuting car with great gas mileage) and the chauvinist car dealer tried to steer me away from my car and into a minivan since at the ripe old age of 20 I looked like I was about to pop out two or more kids. I remember being so offended that I had done my homework but just because I was female I should be planning ahead for my destiny to own a minivan. I thought heck, even with two kids they'll still fit in my four door sedan. Right then and there I vowed I would never own a minivan of my own. My friends with kids scoffed. You just wait they said. Once you have a few kids you'll be begging for a minivan. Well I guess that remains to be seen. Baby #2 is on the way and I'm still happy with my cute four door commuter car. There are many family car options out there, I just know for me that it will never be a minivan.

I do have to give kudos to my good friend Jill, who although has succumbed to a minivan, has not fallen victim to the minivan "way". She has proceeded to paint biker flames all over it, and has an Ozzy Osborne key chain hanging from the rear view. Now that's going out with STYLE.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Dorothy Hamill - Public Hair Enemy #1

Long before the Wall-O-80's bangs, long before the mohawk, even before the sexy and shimmery mullet, there was another hair style that swept the nation... Literally. Call it the "Wedge".. call it the "Bob"... or call it by it's true name... the "Dorothy Hamill" cut. If you were a girl with long flowing locks anytime in the mid 70's, your days of beauty were numbered. After the shy and talented skater won the gold medal in 1976, a wave of crazed hair stylists sharpened their scissors and aimed for the heads of the youth of America. No longer would mom's across the nation be bothered with styling and braiding long flowing locks. No longer was tangle-free shampoo needed. Throw out your hair ribbons and bows... the "Wedge" was coming. Simply get out a bowl the exact shape of your head and trim away.

I too sadly became a victim of this fashion trend at the tender age of six or seven. 

A shot us four kids in about 1979.  Me (on the left, Kevin, Megan, and Ryan)

What followed was a life time of what I'd like to call "hair rebellion", or the act of growing my hair out long for the rest of my life. Sure, it took a LONG time to grow out the "wedge"... there was that short time in junior high when it had evolved into a horrific permed mullet, that first year of high school when I looked like a curly cocker spaniel with floppy ears, and then finally by the end of my junior year of I was back to long and flowy curly locks... I style I hold to this day. Sometimes I wonder if Ms. Hamill shouldn't be held accountable for her hair atrocities? If she had just sported a regular pony tail or nifty skaters bun none of this would of ever happened, but on the other hand, the style did end up going great with rainbow shirts, clogs and bell bottoms. How would YOU like to be the sole reason there are a ton a bad childhood photos in the world?? Hopefully she can live with the guilt... lol ;)

I must say... when I wrote this way back at the beginning of my blog seven years ago, I was mostly being sarcastic as I had come across an old pic with my trademark childhood wedge hairdo, which I had no say in.  After watching Dorothy Hamill on the most recent "Dancing with the Stars", she is such a nice person.  Like super nice and sweet.  Like she wouldn't hurt a fly and I might hurt her feelings if she ever read this.  Well if you are out there Dorothy Hamill I think you personally are awesome. Your trend-setting short hairstyle set the 1970's on fire like nothing else, right after everyone who got the memo to name their kid "Jennifer" in 1972. I think long hair and short hair lovers can put their differences aside and be friends.  :)

Thursday, February 16, 2006

So Why WeShaboigen??

 Note: My blog used to be called "Weshaboigen"

So my sister asked... So why WeShaboigen, what's that from? So I thought I would share it with her and you. It has something to do with stale snacks, not the beautiful fresh snacks pictured here, but a plate of snacks two weeks old and twice frozen... But first, some background. I keep a white board on our fridge at home. Now while most people would keep a shopping list or a time efficient things to do list, I keep wacky and strange phrases that have been uttered by family members. When the white board gets full, I'll transfer them to a hard copy and start over. So at any given time a complete stranger could walk into the house and be totally baffled by the sayings on our fridge, which has the most hilarious collection of our favorite inside jokes.

So we work together, my hubby and me. We have a very frugal boss. She buys plastic flowers instead of real ones, and if the receipt doesn't say Walmart, you've payed too much. Well she's found a way to be frugal on snacks too. She goes to the local supermarket and collects the week old pastries, too old and decrepit to sell to the public and brings it to work where she promptly refreezes them and it is there they lie in wait for us. On snack day morning she proudly defrosts them and makes a beautiful display on a flowery plate and ceremoniously places them in our break room. After a few years of these most of us have learned to stay clear of the snack plate, but there always seems to be the newbie or just plain person that is too hungry, and slowly the stale snacks disappear over the course of the morning. When our boss comes back and sees the almost empty plate, I'm SURE it only reinforces her idea that stale snacks are a good thing.

So one day as everyone was standing around the snack plate, gazing at the obvious staleness I said out loud... "We should boycott". My hubby, walking by quickly at the time misheard me and said back... "WeShaboigen", what the heck is THAT? No, I said We should BOY COTT... the snacks I mean... "OK, WeShaboigen"! he says back... and a new white board phrase was born. We use it now anytime we want to make a statement that we are standing up for the little injustices of the world. So go ahead, say it... it just rolls off the tongue... WE SHABOIGEN. Oh, and always buy fresh snacks

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

That's Jenn... with two "N's".

There's a statistic floating around out there that says that 80% of American men have dated a Jennifer at one time or another in their life. There sure are a LOT of us out there. In school there were at least three in every class, so the only way to tell us apart was our last initial. I was Jenny F., a moniker that stuck with me until the ripe old age of 13, when I learned that "Jenny" was another name for a female donkey, or rather, jackass.

After that I decided a slight name change was in order. Of course one could opt for the formal given name of "Jennifer", but that tends to bring up all the times when you had done something bad, and your full name, including middle, would be strung together in the most horrible way and you KNEW you were in big trouble. So that leaves you the option of shortening your name to Jen or Jenn. Over the years and after meeting many Jenns and Jens, I've come to some common conclusions. In my opinion, the one 'n' Jen is sort of taking the lazy way out. Sure Jen will get you through in a pinch. You have all the necessary letters to form the sounds to make the name, but many one 'n' Jens are just that, one dimensional. Oh sure, they're a social breed, lots of friends, and tend to be sporty, popular, and especially gravitate towards cheer leading, however if you're looking for a little more substance and a lifetime of hilarity, try to find yourself a two 'n' Jenn. We're creative, clever, and loyal.

Many a time my theory has been put to the test when one of my guy friends starts dating a Jennifer. I ask... does she spell her name with one 'n' or two? When they say one 'n' I tell them to head for the hills. One 'n' Jens are notorious bad girlfriend material. My one friend Kyle scoffed at my theories and took his one 'n' Jen on a double date/vacation with his brother and fiance. Halfway through their vacation and trapped on an island paradise completely surrounded by water, the one 'n' Jen flipped out, went psycho, and ruined their whole vacation. So if you look around and find yourself in the presence of a two 'n' Jenn, consider yourself very lucky. Like a needle in a haystack, like a diamond in the rough... you've found a rare thing.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

I'm new here

So, one of my good friends told me I should become a blogger, and I don't even know where to start. So here I am at the deep end of the pool without my flotation device... well unless you count my uncanny ability to become completely buoyant due to, I think, in fact to my larger than average breasts, which allow me to bob up and down in the water without the aid of hands or feet. It's quite the stupid human trick - but very impressive to the casual observer. So here's I am, sitting cross legged in the pool while others must get by the "old fashioned" way by "swimming". I hope you enjoy your stay here and just sit back and let the wackiness wash over you.

Testing link for pdf here
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