Rob Flanders

For those of you who don't know Rob Lowe you should really visit his blog. He's an excellent writer who is going through some personal shit right now, turning Thirty in a few days and having a time discovering who he really is. Hands down he is a great guy and I feel kinda bad about posting the above photo, but it's just too damn funny not to post.

Anyway, he posted this really intense picture on his last post in which (among other things) he decided to shave his beard, and keep the stash in which I immediately thought "Ned Flanders." And then I wrote a comment that stated my thought, along with asking where Rod & Todd were.

Am I cruel? I mean, in my defense, I truly believe only 2% of the male population can actually get away with a mustache without looking like some sort of Chester Molester or Merv the Perv...or in this case, Ned Flanders.

Rob, look at the bright side...at least it isn't John Favreau.

Happy Birthday Rob Lowe!

AAH!

Do you see it? Do you see the loose piece of skin under my eye? It's there, I SWEAR it is.

This morning as I as wiping some stray eyeliner off the bottom of my eye a piece of skin came along for a ride, gathered up in a bunch under my eye and just sat there, as if saying..."Ha! This is for all those times you failed to apply your SPF 30."

Panic has now set in...I am frantically searching for the best under eye wrinkle creme there is on the market. And I need YOUR help. I used to work for Lancome while I was in college, I know they had a couple good ones, but I never thought I'd actually need them. DAMN YOU CRUEL, CRUEL, WORLD!

Any suggestions?

Running Thoughts

I just got back from taking Lola for a walk/run around Lake Nokomis which is just a hop, skip, and a jump away from my home, and also the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport. As I was walking, I began contemplating my life…where I am and how I got here. I decided that I’m rather lucky, and have pretty much what is considered “The American Dream.” I own a nice home, have a great job, and have wonderful friends and an awesome family. I am very fortunate.
When I arrived at the lake I decided to walk counter clockwise instead of clockwise which I normally do. I realize that I’ve become too “predictable” and this disturbs me.

I immediately realize how different things seem by just going in a different direction. I begin taking notice of the people who are sharing the path with me. Some are running, some are walking, some are on the bike path on their bikes, and a few are on rollerblades. I notice a guy running wearing a red shirt with “S.O.S.” printed on the front, which immediately has me singing ABBA in my head. I hate him.

Everyone is pretty much the same and no one sparks any real interest until I see a family approaching. There were two young pre-teenage girls on rollerblades, they were pretty and had a different look about them. They were smiling and laughing, doing pretty much what young girls do. Behind them were a boy and a girl on small bikes with training wheels, both had dark hair and were racing each other with smiles on their faces. I listened as their laughter danced across the bike path, which made me smile. Following them were whom I assume to be their parents. The mother was wearing a hijab,and the father was dressed in a red athletic pants suit with a visor. Just when I noticed them a rather large military plane flew overhead causing the woman to flinch. She stopped her bike and looked up in the air. Her husband came to her side and put his arm around her. As I looked back the children were carrying on with their fun, not noticing the large airplane, which I assume brought back some kind of memories for their parents.

I then realized that this is a different day, and a different age. What their children are experiencing now is most probably the reason why they moved to American in the first place, to escape supposed oppression, and to give their children a childhood and future full of hope and potential. I thought of the soldiers who are over fighting in Iraq who have been sent to do whatever it really is they were sent to do there and it makes me proud. It helps me to understand how lucky I am and how lucky those children are to be on that bike path on Lake Nokomis with their whole lives ahead of them, and more importantly, their family behind them, because that’s what “The American Dream” is all about.

I continued my trek, and I began to run. As I ran I approached an elderly couple with their shorts cranked so far up their asses it made me snicker. They were sweet and when I passed them they said a friendly “Hello” I replied likewise. I felt bad for snickering about their shorts.

Onward and forward I resumed and came across a small group of guys playing frisbee. They made some sort of male mating call and said something along the lines of “Hey, wanna join us.” I politely declined and kept running. I imagined a conversation in which I told them that my husband was a powerful corporate attorney in downtown Minneapolis and that I was a housewife who sat around the pool all day eating bon bons and drinking martinis. I immediately envisioned myself as Nicole Kidman in The Stepford Wives, and then when Lola practically yanked me off the path in hot pursuit of a squirrel I came back to reality. I felt bad for wanting for a moment to be different from who I actually am.

I slowed down to get a drink of water and cool Lola’s feet when I noticed the beach. I see a woman sitting in a chair who is very pregnant. For a brief moment I think of how fun it would be to be pregnant and have a baby. I then hear a blood-curdling scream and look to my right where there is a child throwing a temper tantrum because she doesn’t want to leave the swings. I curse myself for thinking I want to have a child right now and try to say 10 hail Mary’s which fails because I am not Catholic and don’t know where to begin.

A little ways down the path I see a woman and her son. The woman is dressed in sporty Ann Taylor, Ralph Lauren tennis shoes, and a pair of Gucci sunglasses. Her son is dressed in a black Anthrax t-shirt, baggy jeans with chains coming from both pockets and has more piercings in his face than Jude Law has mistresses. His hair is dyed three shades of purple and has enough hair product to accommodate every drag queen in the tri-state area. Despite their obvious social differences, they were laughing and joking with each other and it was beautiful.

There were so many other things I noticed, like an eight year old on a bicycle talking on a cell phone. And the fat couple that was making out in the middle of the grass while lying on a blanket. I was somehow intrigued and repulsed at the same time. It was like watching Gili, only more tolerable. Oh, and I can’t forget the guy with the horrible comb-over and his wife whose perfume permeated all the way across the street into my lungs which made me cough with disgust.

Anyway, so I guess my point to this blog is this…. well, I really don’t have a point. In fact I don’t know why I kept on writing. I should’ve stopped with the whole “American Dream Thing,” given everyone a nice warm fuzzy, and called it a night, but I didn’t and I guess I’m OK with that. So I leave it at this: Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you can get something out of my random written babble, whether it is a laugh or a lesson. Thanks for reading…

It's a bird! It's a plane! No! It's a short bus!

Here she comes...here comes speed racer! 

When you see multipe short busses would they be considered a herd? Maybe a gaggle, or a murder? And what would you do if you were to drive by a parking lot full of them? Why, I would get my picture taken with them in some random pointing pose...that's what I would do!



And Look! They even left one behind! Poor Poor "Special Josh..."

My friends suck.

Damian sent me this over email today with the lone caption of "Ha." I assume it's from "Family Guy" which is quite possibly the best show on TV. But still, I am concerned, is he trying to tell me something here?

Jackass.

Yep...I'm a dork.

It started as it usually does, with the tapping of the feet. Then the fingers start on the steering wheel in the same rhythm. Tap tap tappity tap on the steering wheel. Only this time it was an all out dance party with myself in the Cabrio. A dance party set to the one and only “Dancing in the Street.” Yep, I’m a dork.

My head was a boppin, my hands were a jiving, and I was ready to party. And when that really attractive man in the 7 series BMW showed up next to me at the stoplight, it wasn’t a big deal. Unlike any normal girl who would’ve rolled up her window and stopped the moves, I kept on jamming, like the diva that I thought I was. He looked at me, smiled, and turned his radio to the exact same station and made up his own moves.

For a moment we were like Ginger Rogers and Danny Fuckin Kaye. The light turned green and when he wanted to race my 4 banger VW, I couldn’t hold the heat against his 8-cylinder automobile of fire. I was lost in the dust. But I didn’t care because by radio was pumping and I was ready, ready for more to come.

So, tonight I went to Cloggy’s, which is a local hole in the wall bar by my house. It was Josh, Damian, Erica and I, two pool tables and a bar full of drunken softball players. We were all in it for the long hall. I’d have to say the most humorous moment of the night was watching the only brother in the joint try and dance to “Summer Lovin” alone, in the middle of the bar, because, what else are these summer nights for? But fun.

Watch out Amway...here I come!

So, I pinky swore one of my clients that I would do this. Actually, I pinky swore TWO of my clinets that I would do this.
It's kind of like a pyramid thing. You spend $10 a month to get your own website
(mine is www.swankychic.ws) and then you refer your friends, associates, enemies, etc. to your website where they can sign up and refer other people and then you get paid on them and their referrals. The principal is really quite ingenious. I mean, shit, if anything you get a website out of it equipped with email.

This whole thing is based on the principal that the .com and .net's are going to run out in the near future and the .ws's are relatively new...so if you want to get your website, with your name or catchy jingle you can do it here. I even researched this company, apparantly "INC Magazine" named it the 37th fastest growing company in the US.

I told them I'd try it for a year and see how it goes. What's $10 a month? Right? And I really don't have to do any work. The worst thing that can happen is I have some entertainment with my website and I can also sit back and watch and see if this works. Besides, it's completely at my own will, I can cancel at anytime. If you want to have fun and try it, or if you need a website, just click on the banner above...COME ON! EVERYBODY'S doing it ;)

So, I have yet to put anything up on my site. I have to think of what I want to do with it. Any suggestions? Besides poern. Perverts.

The Fantastic Four Strikes Again.

Cheers! 

I should have known. I always should know that when I go out with Laura, Dave, and Gregg things get out of control. Last night is the reason why I am not out tonight. It’s 7:00 pm and I’m still hung over.

It all began with four good friends, a bar, a cocktail, another cocktail, another cocktail…and so on and so forth. Whenever we get together we get drunk, overanalyze each other and fight. It’s fun.

Last night I watched as Gregg picked up what we believe was a prostitute. She was with a date, an older overweight man in his late 50’s. He was fat and she was wearing a short skirt. Gregg is amazing. He sees something he wants and last night he apparently wanted the prostitute. He walked right over there and started a conversation as the three of us gazed on in amazement. Even more amazing was when she came over to the table and gave him her phone number with a wink and a sultry smile. We cracked up. Gregg got some digits from a hooker. Sweet.

I also pulled a real classic one. I saw this guy who I always thought was so hot in college at the bar last night, so what do I do? I walk right over and tell him how hot I thought he was. Yeah, I was drunk.

I think I dropped a glass, and broke it. I honestly don’t remember. Oh, I also lost my cell phone, but retrieved it after placing an all point bulletin on email this morning, apparently I was the only one awake at 8 am because I didn’t get a response until around 10:00. The emails went something like this:



8:22 am: Hello All. I'm writing this email to place an all-points-bulletin on
my cell phone. Dave, I think it may be on your dining room table.

If anyone could please call him and let me know by email it would be
greatly appreciated.

I am still drunk.

9:16 am: Um YEAH, I don't mean to be a stalker, but can SOMEONE please email me back so I know you are getting these...I'm serious. I can't call
anyone because I don't know anyone's numbers...they're all in my cell
phone which is MISSING right now. Please, Please, let me know that
everyone's OK and that you are getting these...please....

9:36 am: Ahem, still looking for my cell phone.

I am still drunk.

9:54 am: Panic has now set in. Seriously. I'm hyperventilating and I can't
call 911 because I don't have a PHONE and no one will email me BACK.
I need to leave my house and I have no mode of communication. I am
now suicidal. I am not kidding.

10:00 am: I am still drunk.

10:15 am: Desperation. I have never felt so vulnerable in my entire life.
Excuse me while I crawl into a corner and rock myself into
familiarity. I have nothing. No phone, no friends that will email me
back...nothing.

I am now hung over and the buzz has worn off. I am no longer drunk.

10:24 am First Response Back From Gregg: I'm here, what do you need.?

10:25 am: SWEET JESUS! I need you to get a hold of Dave to see if my phone is on his dining room table.

10:26 am Gregg: I just woke up...and why was I riding in a limo last night?

Yup, Gregg, the same guy who had earlier picked up the hooker managed to get himself separated from the group and scored a ride around town with some huge brotha in a limo. All while still in his softball uniform and baseball hat. Nice job Gregg.

I did end up getting my phone today, which was on Dave’s dining room table. It was then he told me that they stayed out until 5 am and went to an after bar where Dave won the “Jackass of the Week” award after he spilled a full glass of red wine on some lady’s white couch. God that’s smooth. His friend went over today and got the stain out for him. Apparently, a concoction of hydrogen peroxide and Dawn soap did the trick. Put that mixture in your filing cabinet for future reference.

Tomorrow I leave for Hayward again…I can’t wait. Although this time we’re going to be working on the cabin. Still, 95 degrees and sunny…the lake is calling my name. Chrissy and I are taking a girls weekend as Luke is climbing Mt Rainier. Everyone keep your fingers crossed for Luke and a successful summit!

Ode to Spring Break, 1996

Ode to Spring Break 1996


Holy God, nice mall hair Jen. Jenni and Danika, "Overexposed" 1996. 

About 10 years ago Danika and I took a trip out to Jackson Hole, Wyoming to visit Josh and his friends who at the time went to Montana State.

It all began with the prerequisite of cheap. We had planned on cutting some corners by creating a sort of “planes, trains, and automobile” type of vacation, because as poor college students we really had no choice.

So we set out to Jackson Hole via an airplane that left the Minneapolis St. Paul airport destined for Salt Lake City Utah. But before we even reached the airport we had a plan. A plan that included empty water bottles, Zima, and Jolly Ranchers; because what’s better than sneaking alcohol onto an airplane? Sneaking alcohol onto an airplane that has the potential to taste like apple jolly ranchers (Come on, we were not even 20 years old at this time, cut us some slack).

So we arrive in Salt Lake City with our booze and headed straight for the Greyhound bus station where we would catch a bus to Idaho Falls, approximately 200 miles north. It was upon the entrance of the station we decide to crack our bottles and toast a good luck cheers to our awesome vacation.

After being approached by many interesting people including a foreign exchange student who wanted to know how to spell “phat” you know as in “That car is really phat,” we decided to take a small tour of the area around the station. We somehow found a building which I believe was right outside the back of the station that dawned a giant gold statue on the top resemebing what I now know was a Mormon, and to give you a clue of our (or my) state of mind the following conversation ensued.

Jen: Danika! Look at that GIANT golden Muslim!”
Danika: “That’s a Mormon Jen.”
Jen: Right…let’s catch our bus.

So, we boarded the bus, which was filled with a cast worthy of a Saturday night episode of “Cops”…seriously. Upon boarding the bus we examined the company we were about to keep for the next 5 hours and headed straight for the back; because where else do the cool Zima drinking people sit? But at the back of the bus of course!

We were situated and comfortable and after a few more toasts we were introduced to Le Roy, his wife and their 5 month old baby. I swear to God his name was Le Roy. It’s like his parents were from the classy part of Detroit and decided to take a horrible name such as Roy and make it sound snazzy. After the obvious jokes about what their kid’s name was which included but were not limited to“Le Bob, and Le Frank,” the bus set out for our five hour tour. At each stop Le Roy and his wife would go out to smoke and leave their Le Baby with us drunk 19 year old college students.

So, to make a long story short we finally arrived in Idaho Falls where we were met by Brady, Jim, and Josh in Brady’s mom’s suburban with a full bar set up in the back. They had peach schnapps, rootbeer schnapps, Dr Mcgillicuddy’s, and every other kind of booze to get a young college girl smashed. So we were on our way for the next 90 mile stretch of highway that would lead us to our destination.

We arrived at our condo drunk and tired. And when we woke up the next morning we were ready to hit the slopes. We were probably on the slopes a good two hours when “the accident” happened. It was snowing and the flakes quickly turned to slush making it icy to boot. Josh, who is an experienced snowboarder, decided it was time to take us down the double black diamond. That’s right DOUBLE BLACK DIAMOND, because that’s what you do when you have two inexperienced skiers on an icy, snowy afternoon in the mountains.


What should have been the first clue that the double black diamond was probably not a good idea.  

I have no clue why we're blue in this picture...in fact it kind of creeps me out...blue...

It was going fine, until we got near the bottom and I thought I could handle it on my own. This is where I lose most of the recollection of the afternoon. All I remember is flying down the hill towards the chalet when I woke up, surrounded by a ski school. I was wet, injured, and missing my sunglasses. It was all bits and pieces from there and from what I’m told I was given a ride on the “dead sled,” x-rayed, and ambulanced to the local hospital. Yes, they ambulanced me to the hospital. I hated it and I couldn’t wait to get back to the condo.

After asking me where I was and who was the president and all of that other bullshit they sent me home with specific instructions for Josh to wake me up every two hours, in case I should slip into some sort of coma, which was not reassuring at all since I knew Josh and everyone else that night would be shit-canned.

When we arrived back in Salt Lake City, we hadn’t planned on reserving a hotel room because we thought it would be fine to sleep in the Greyhound station. Yeah, you read that right, “Sleep in a Greyhound station.” So, as you probably guessed we made some phone calls, and some more phone calls, and some more phone calls…you see, each and every hotel room was booked because the “National Bowling Convention” was in town. National Fucking Bowling Convention.

We were tired, we were hungry, and we were scared. So we gathered up our things and walked down to the local Mariott where we demanded they give us a room and if they didn’t we were going to camp out in their lobby. Surprisingly, since our phone call, they miraculously came up with one available room, equipped with two queen sized beds and a mini bar. We handed over our plastic and $150 later we were officially the occupants of a relatively comfortable hotel room. $150 for a hotel room in 1996? We could have stayed at the fucking Westin in Tokyo for $150 ferchrissakes. But still, it was like winning the lottery, only we had to pay for it and it wasn’t as exciting.

We did make it back, and with plenty of stories to share with our dorm mates. It’s nearly 10 years later and we’re still laughing about all of our misfortunes, but it was an experience that has bonded these two bloggers together. It was our “Spring Break 1996.”

Am I asking for it?

So, tonight I'm going to this guy's cabin. I'll be sure to bring my digital camera in hopes we'll get "Random Drunk Picture #2" out of him.

Wish me luck.

The Top Ten Things I Learned this Weekend at the Cabin.

My new favorite t-shirt...isn't it great? A little tacky maybe, but great nonetheless. 

I’ve made it back from the long weekend in Northern Wisconsin, and mostly in one piece. I thought of writing a story, but the story would be way too long and frankly, I’m way too tired to even begin. So, after letting the events marinate in my head for a while, I decided to make a top ten list which keeps the description (and work) at a minimum, but also leaves something up to the imagination as well. So here goes…

The Top Ten Things I Learned this Weekend At the Cabin.

10). Any man who single handidly drinks a two-gallon whiskey sour and still manages to successfully dock a pontoon boat should be the Eighth Wonder of the World.
9). Pillaging the resort next door for their supply of Pop Rocks and coming back an hour later with less than one bag in tow is totally socially acceptable.
8). The ear to ear grin of two people that leave a campfire to go “crack one off” and then return to the party is as obvious as daylight.
7). When you shoot a bottle rocket at someone expect one to be shot at you.
6). The 1972 volume of the HBJ Catholic School Dictionary, eight people, and multiple cocktails can supply at least a good full hour of entertainment.
5). Polishing off three quarters of a liter of vodka in one day will not help you walk better, or more specifically climb stairs. At all.
4). Croquet is more fun one handed with a cocktail in your other hand.
3). Fire + Gasoline = Really Big Fire
Fire + Gasoline + Jenni = Really Bad Idea
2). I don’t care what anyone says, to name your bar “The Beer Hunter” is the best idea. Ever.
1). Taking a really violent fall in front of your friends will trigger the following events to happen, in this order.
a). Gasps and genuine looks of concern.
b). An immediate bath of Bacitracen on all open wounds.
c). Pointing and laughing.
d). Overly dramatic reenactments of said fall…all night long.

The one thing I already knew about the cabin that I was reminded of again this weekend:

If life isn’t about good friends, a lake, a cabin, some cocktails and fun, then it should be.

Let's get this party started...right?

Woo-hoo! 

I love my boss. I’m serious. I don’t know how many blogs I read that complain about their boss. Maybe it’s because it’s the thing to do, sit around and bitch and complain about your boss. Or maybe there are people out there who really have horrible luck with their “man in charge.”

I was expecting to work today and when I got a call from my buyer saying he was ill, I was expecting it to be an even longer day in front of my computer buying loans from the que. That is, until I got this awesome email from my boss.

Go to the Cabin! Have a good weekend--Get refreshed and ready for 150% in July.

Have a GREAT WEEKEND!!

I will handle the Q!


Did I mention that I love my boss?

Did I also mention that I am SO excited to go to the cabin? Well, today’s the day and I’m ready and roaring to get the hell outa Dodge.

As I’m wrapping up this entry “It’s a Beautiful Day” by U2 is on the radio and it seems the perfect time to sign off. So, everyone out there, please have a great Fourth of July weekend! Happy Birthday USA!