*

It's Just Who I am, Bitches.

2009-10-15T08:07:00.014-05:00

In case there is anyone left out there who noticed, I shut the blog down for awhile in an attempt to conceal past entries from the outside world. Why? My answer, simply is I want to take a stab at being a "serious" writer and I feared that what is contained in the archives of Swank or Skank would somehow take away that dream.

Looking back, I've realized thinking that way is just plain silly. Like it or not, every post I have written on this blog is directly related to who I am...Or was at the time.

My good friend "I.Marzipan" and I started this blog with the intention of rating people, places, things, and ideas, on a sliding scale and percentage of "swank" or "skank." Example: Lindsay Lohan is 100% skank" and The Republican National Convention was 25% swank, 75% skank (If Lindsay would lay off the coke, cut the attitude and decide what her sexual preference is she may just lower her skank to 99.7%, and if there were less instances of participants of the RNC being ripped off by hookers their skank quotient would go down considerably.)

With all that being said, I've decided that shutting this down isn't fair to me, or my past posts, like Fancy Fruity Blue Martini's or Breakfast and Porn with the Parents, some vintage Random Salad and one of my personal favorites, My Life Is a Mess...".

So, I plan on posting more, maybe even throwing in some of my favorite vintage posts in the mix partially in an effort to reclaim my identity, but mainly to relive my glory days when people actually read this mess.

Ah, memories.

P.S. A shout out to Dr Ken is in order for making this all possible...You can pat him on the back, or send him hate mail. Whatever blows your skirt up.

A New (Now open to the general public) Venture

2009-05-24T21:37:00.011-05:00

I've been busy.

Wait, let me clarify. I've been busy doing something productive. (Waiting for the shock and awe to subside)

Being that I am for all intensive purposes "unemployed," and in the midst of writing a book, I've decided to take my mad sewing/reupholstering skills and put them to work for me.

It all started a few years ago when I needed to get a baby shower gift for a friend, and was sick of the same old, same old. While paging through a magazine I came across an article about Etsy that featured a woman who sold handmade baby blankets. I found an adorable one, and ended up forking over the $75 bills. (The blue fabric is actually the same as the blanket below, but my boarder is MUCH more adorable!)

When I got it in the mail I was thrilled, it was SO cute, and while looking it over I thought how I could most probably make the same thing. So for the next baby shower I did just that. I also made one for the next one, and the next one....

I received so many compliments, everyone just LOVED them. I started getting requests to make them. Friends, friends of friends, random strangers. It became something that I enjoyed doing, and I could make a little money at. It was a win win!

After making blankets, I decided to venture out and make bags and clutches, while also incorporating my hobby of finding, reinventing and reupholstering used furniture.

It's a love of mine I finally have a little more time for and am excited to share with others.

So, I'm sharing them with you, all 3 readers I have left! Stop by, I'll be adding many new things shortly to my Etsy store and website, and of course, blog.

Just to make you think...

2009-05-20T17:33:00.007-05:00

This is a tough one.

For the last week or so I've been following the story of Daniel Hauser, a 13 year old Minnesota boy who has been diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma and is refusing chemotherapy.

His family is Roman Catholic and practice the "do no harm" philosophy of the Nemenhah Band a Native American and religious group based out of Missouri, that believes in natural healing methods.

After one round of chemo earlier in the year, Daniel and his family decided that they would instead treat his illness holistically, through a whole foods diet, herbal supplements, vitamins and ionized water. After his previous doctor caught wind of this he alerted the authorities and were eventually the Hauser's were served with allegedly medically neglecting their son.

Last week Daniel and his family were ordered to obtain an oncologist and have an x-ray done to determine the severity of his condition. The x-ray showed that his condition is not getting better and if he doesn't receive some sort of medical treatment in the near future, it will be too late. And to add a twist to this story, when it was time to go back to court there was no Daniel and no mom.

With Daniel and his mom on the lamb, there is now a nation wide search to recover them and bring Daniel back home and directly into the hands of foster care.

As someone who has overcome an illness through natural means, despite the lack of support, faith, and adverse reaction from her rheumatologist, it's hard for me to figure out who's right and who's wrong.

Obviously, he's 13 years old which makes a huge difference. He's just a kid who's depending on his parents to make the best decision for him, but who's to say what the best decision is? A judge? The parents? At what point does the judicial system go from looking out for the best interest of the child to overstepping their bounds?

Happy 5th Birthday Lola!

2009-05-17T09:06:00.002-05:00

I realize that I don't update as often as I should, but every year (except for last year) I always make it a point to say "Happy Birthday" to my sweet dog, Lola.

Lola's had a busy year. She loves hanging out with her little bro, Burton, going for walks, stalking squirrels, and cuddling under the blanket when it's cold outside.

She's made my life better and I don't know what I would do without her, so "Thank You" Lola, and "Happy Birthday!"

Same Old.

2009-05-06T15:32:00.004-05:00

Sometimes you just don't even know where to begin.

These last few months of unemployment have been a whirlwind of emotions bordering on pre-midlife crisis.

"What do I want to do with the rest of my life?" being pretty much the theme, and right when I think I've come close to figuring it all out something happens to point me in a completely different direction. Why does life have to be so complicated?

Right now I'm reading a book titled, "PUTTING YOUR PASSION INTO PRINT." I think it may have been the boldface caps that caught my attention, as if the book was screaming at me yelling something like, "HEY...HEY...JENNI! WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR ?" I've had numerous people tell me I should write a book about my journey with RA and how I have taken my life back. Usually, my response is, "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Being that I am so passionate about diet and exercise and can sit and talk about it for hours on end makes me think that maybe these people are right?

So, in the meantime, while I figure it all out, I will try to keep up with the writing, periodic updates and checks on my sanity (what's left of it anyway).

Oh, and if anyone is still out there, missing some smartassery from me, you can follow me on twitter http://twitter.com/sunshine76. With that being said, as a courtesy, I will make no claims that my life is particularly interesting, and will not be responsible for blatant offense, hurt feelings, or overall poor grammar.

Some things never change.

Fancy Blue Fruity Martinis

2009-02-04T18:31:00.009-06:00

Man, time sure does fly.

I can't even begin to recall where the last few weeks have gone. I've spent the majority of my unemployment so far familiarizing myself with new and completely exhausting classes at the gym, and I have gone to a few lunches, one of which started at noon and carried on until 1:00 am.

This particular lunch was with a friend of mine who incidentally, is also unemployed. We had decided earlier in the week to get together to purposefully and maliciously mock those that are gainfully employed, even possibly throw things at them (more specifically pads of butter because of their ability to stick and smear) all in an attempt to make us feel better about ourselves. Our intentions were good, it's not like we set out to drink $50 worth of booze in four hours. Actually, it was more like $50 A PIECE. Fancy blue fruity martinis are expensive.

Our waiter, Willie, who although was very kind, was grossly inexperienced. Apparently the regular bartender didn't arrive until after 5 o'clock because the demand for swanky umbrella drinks at noon on a weekday is slim to none. They obviously didn't expect our arrival.

We vented, we complained about how insensitive corporate America is and how smug and entitled the CEO's of these large corporations have become. More importantly we drank the restaurant out of fancy fruity blue martinis. At this point any normal couple of unemployed chicks would have taken this as a sign to call it a day...Not us. I believe the phrase was "What else ya got?"

It was now about 3:30 and we were actually locked in the restaurant. That's right. Locked in. They weren't letting anyone else in because they were in between shifts. So it was us, Willie, and the four foot tall Indonesian dude who I assume was the chef who would walk by and smile at us every so often.

So, Willie walked us through the menu of drinks that he "knew how to make." The list was short and we were stuck with a Mojito. He proudly delivered my Mojito and when I took a sip I thought "Gee, this tastes rather coconutty." However, I really didn't care. It was booze, it was cold, and it would do. About ten minutes later Willie came over and asked how it tasted. I overentheusiasticly said "Great!" He looked at me strange and asked, does it kinda taste like coconut, because I accidentally used Malibu instead of regular rum.

Here's another instance where ordinary folk would ask that the drink be comped and another one to be made. Not us, we decide that it's absolutely fabulous and that we think it should be added to their drink menu as the "Williejito." And then we order two more. Yep.

After going back to my house and playing a few games of Wii, joined by Josh and a few more of our friends, we decide to head to the local dive bar for Friday night Karaoke. Thankfully for all that is sacred and holy, we were pretty much the only patrons in the bar besides, "Big Daddy" himself, the host and owner of "Big Daddy's Karaoke."

To set the stage for this establishment, I ask you to picture a seedy bar, the seediest of seedy. Two pool tables, a few high tops, a small bar all contained in around 1000 square feet and smack dab in what could be considered a boarder line ghetto. The sign out front boasts weekly specials such as Tuesday night "Ladies Night", Wednesday Night "Poker Night", and what I have affectionately named Thursday night "Homicide Night" after driving by one evening to find the entire joint roped off and surrounded by five squad cars, a black suburban belonging to the CSI crew, and a rather large blood stain outside the front door.

Clearly, that night we weren't at all concerned for our lives as I can't even count how many songs we sang. I will however admit that I performed a super rendition of "Funky Cold Medina", mainly because the majority of the song is spoken and I don't think at that point in the evening I could carry a tune to save my life.

Towards the end of the evening Big Daddy himself invited us on a road trip to...Wait for it...IOWA. Yes, we were given the opportunity to travel to the great state of Iowa with Big Daddy and become his entourage. We would tour the countryside in a rented RV, stopping at various bars and establishments where karaoke was needed, and more importantly loved.

After the conversation of how I would claim the "Funky Cold Medina" as my theme song, allowing no one else to sing it during the Tour de Iowa, Josh decided that it was time to go.

I can't say that the next day was pleasant. It felt as though there were little gnomes in my head with little gnome power tools doing what one would expect little gnomes to do with power tools. It was horrible. My voice was gone, the thought of anything blue, or alcoholic gave me great pause and I spent most of the day being rather miserable.

Looking back on this, I've learned three very important things. 1). Not only am I no longer 22 years old or in college where recreational drinking is encouraged, my tolerance on a scale of 1-10 is a negative 4. 2).If you're not a bartender, you have no business being behind a bar, even if two women name a drink after you. and 3). When your microphone mysteriously shuts off mid song it's time to go home.

Opening Doors

2009-01-21T10:48:00.005-06:00

Yesterday I was unceremoniously laid off. Yet another casualty of the banking/auto industry.

Ironic, since this was the first, and most probably last time George W and I have had or will ever have anything in common.
Working as an indirect lender "Rep" for the auto industry during this shit-storm of an economy has proven to be a recipe for disaster.

But honestly, I am not upset. A little shocked, but definitely not surprised, if that makes any sense. Most importantly, it was time. I needed a push and I got one, complete with three months pay and benefits.

A friend of mine said something that gave me pause, "Your job does not define who you are-It's just a means to provide." I thought about this and realized that he is right, my job that I had did not define me, but maybe the job I am seeking needs to. I would love to find something that I am passionate about. An opportunity where I can use my writing and creative abilities to do something that I love that will in turn allow me to provide for myself.

Thankfully I have time. Time to do some soul searching and time to figure some things out. Another friend of mine who was recently laid of wrote me "Embrace your unemployment!" Which is what I fully intend on doing...I just wish I could embrace it in July instead of February. Typical.

So, here's to a new beginning! Here's to discovering more about who I am, learning how I can bring myself into my career and create a path that will be both rewarding and exciting. Here's to my future-Today is a new day and tomorrow will be even better.

What Matters Now

2008-11-26T09:37:00.000-06:00

The gym I belong to sends out a magazine every month with articles pertinent to health and fitness. In each issue there is a letter from the founder and CEO. I wanted to share a portion of this month’s letter as I found it to be fitting for what is going on all around us.

In the letter, he acknowledges that given the current economic climate, it’s quite possible we “won’t soon experience the same sort of financial abundance many of us enjoyed in recent years”, however it’s all the more reason to think about how we can create a more “meaningful, stable and satisfying sort of abundance-by consciously cultivating and appreciating the resources that are within our control.”

He then outlines “five areas of potentially unlimited plenty” You can all obviously take what you want from this, but I hope it can help put some things into perspective, as it was a good reminder for me as well.

1. Health- Energy, vitality, focus and endurance are the rewards of good health, and they are essential to accomplishing our other goals. They’re also crucial for withstanding stress and anxiety. Staying healthy and fit helps you ward off expensive medical bills and leaves you well equipped to handle whatever life throws you way. So, if there was ever a time to make staying well a top priority, it’s now. Eat well and simply and get plenty of exercise, fresh air and sleep. Your body will pay you back with interest.

2. Simplicity- Research into the realms of happiness shows us that beyond the ability to meet our basic needs, material wealth does not increase our satisfaction in living. In fact, a surplus of accumulated stuff and clutter actually contributes to stress. This is a great time for clearing clutter, donating unneeded goods to charity, and re-engaging with simple pleasures like clear surfaces, room to move and time in nature. This is also a great time to rediscover the pleasures of unadulterated, unprocessed foods (note: in terms of nutritive value, most organic produce is far less expensive than either soft drinks or fast food-fare.)

3. Time- This is arguable the most precious resource over which we have direct control. The way we spend our time is central to our quality of life, and while having plenty of money can make managing our time easier (because we can purchase “time-saving” goods and services), an overemphasis on material wealth can distance us from the satisfying moments, connections and priorities that really matter. Even when we are busy, worried and overworked, it’s possible to avoid the grip of “time poverty” by staying focused on the present moment, doing daily check-ins with our core values and vision, and deeply appreciating the relationships and blessings that are ours for the keeping.

4. Love- If there’s any great gift in times of challenge and doubt, it’s that we get a very clear sense of who our true friends and loves one are. To feel the heartfelt, steadfast support of those who care about us-and to give our care and affection in return-is one of life’s most extraordinary (and least expensive) pleasures. Whether you hug your spouse, play catch with your kid or take a long walk with a friend, seize the opportunity to connect and care deeply. Give thanks for the good fortune you have to love and be loved, and for the opportunity to grow this hugely renewable resource day by day.

5. Giving- Acts and attitudes of generosity contribute to a climate of hope. Giving to others makes you feel better-about yourself, and about life in general. Whether you can give money, time, energy, advice, encouragement, or even just a kind word and smile-give. Even if you can only give a little, giving makes the world a better place: It helps us all become better people, and that makes the future even brighter.

Women Fight Back...

2008-11-06T13:30:00.004-06:00

Being that I often get these "Why Dogs Are Better Than Women" type emails, I have decided to come up with my own response... And "Yes" many of these come from personal experience...You can thank Josh for being a "typical male."

Ladies, enjoy...This one's for you....

Why Some Women Have Dogs and Not Husbands...

10.Your dog's friends don't come over, drink all your beer and clog up your toilet.

9.Your dog doesn't constantly loose his car keys and then expect you to know exactly where he lost them.

8.Your dog doesn't sneak up from behind and pretend like he's humping you while you're trying to make dinner.

7.Your dog doesn't smack your ass in the middle of the living room while yelling, "YEOW MOMMA GIVE DADDY SOME SUGAR!"

6.Your dog doesn't fart, and then blame it on another dog.

5.Your dog won't mope around the house when you tell him that you "have a headache."

4.Your dog doesn't snore with a decibel level that could wake up an entire city block.

3.You can neuter your dog to curb "bad behavior."

2.Your dog doesn't claim to know everything about all things mechanical.

And last, but certainly not least…

1.Your dog would never not leave the house simply because he has the ability to lick his own balls.

VOTE!

2008-11-04T11:00:00.001-06:00

Just wanted to send out a friendly reminder for all of you to get out and vote...That way we can send the above idiot back to his village.

Happy Election Day!

Screw it...

2008-10-17T16:13:00.003-05:00

Still gainfully employed.

Just got back from Fort Meyers Beach, Florida where the following image was a welcome break from the daily grind.

Screw the economy that's in shambles...I went on vacation and spent my money...Just doing my part to help out our economy...Such a dedicated American, I am.

The Writing's on the Wall

2008-09-16T10:14:00.003-05:00

Check out this email we received today from our marketing department regarding an order of pens that we were supposed to receive to pass out to clients. I have my own theory behind this...

"Hello, Marketing is holding off on the pen order until the final alignment of the sales region structure. I will keep in touch with marketing for updates."

"Thanks"

TRANSLATION:

Prepare yourself. The majority of you are about to be unceremoniously laid off. Spending billions of dollars to bailout other corporations who have found themselves up "Shit Creek" aside, we feel that giving you a $25 box of 250 count pens to be excessive. We will not provide parting gifts, nor will we allow you to never have to buy a pen again for the next 10 or so odd years. If you should need something to hand out to dealers, we have some golf tees at the back of the supply closet that we can send you, providing that you pay shipping and handling and include them on your expense report.

Get your resume ready, it's "go" time.

A Beautiful Night in Minneapolis

2008-09-03T20:26:00.005-05:00

Despite the fact that I am surrounded by Republicans, I have to say that this week has turned out to be beautiful.

I was inside doing some cleaning when I looked out the window and saw the most amazing sunset.

So, I hopped on my bike and ventured down to the lake to snap a few pictures.

I am so fortunate to live in a city where I can travel but a mere three blocks from my home and look at something this amazing.

It's good to be me right now...I hope everyone's night is as beautiful as mine.

Good night all...

The Cows are Taking Over the World.

2008-08-28T11:47:00.005-05:00

According to this article, European scientists have discovered through the use of Google Earth software that cows are magnetic. Apparantly, they are aligning themselves with Earth's north-south magnetic fields while they graze or rest.

Not only are they now a cud-chewing compass, but they also excrete enough methane gas to blow up Russia, and I have reason to believe that they are responsible for crop circles.

Holy shit. Cow's are going to take over the world.

Forget Al Queda, alien invasions, or guerilla warfare, "It's What's For Dinner" that we all have to worry about.

Being that I'm a vegan, I am hoping they will spare my life. I will try and save as many of you as I can, but I am not sure if I can fit all of you in The Rollerskate.

Move over and give me some happy, damnit.

2008-08-26T19:59:00.002-05:00

I believe they say that happiness is a "state of mind." I don't know who "they" are or what makes them the authority on an emotion that is clearly hard to define.

It has recently come to my attention that I am at a point in my life where I have pulled my head out of my ass long enough to realize that I have been selling myself short. Although I am not sure where I will go from here, it is at least something to think about, and hopefully act upon in the relatively near future.

I have a few questions. Excuse the random thought pattern, I am just thinking "out loud."

How does one incorporate what they love into their career? "Live what you love." It's a statement that I have been struggling with these past few years.

I want to be more creative, and I want to do so in an environment that makes me some dough.

I'm not looking to "get rich", I am just looking to make a living at something that I love to do.

The funny thing is, I am not exactly sure what that is. I mean, I love to write, I love to cook, and bake, and decorate. I have been told I am a great salesperson, "people person" blah blah blah...corporate bullshit...etc. So, how do I take these talents and make them work for me in the capacity I want them to work. Does that make sense?

Then I look at the things I have been through. I have overcome this obstacle of R.A in my life that I feel is just staring me in the face screaming, "DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT STUPID! Take what you know, and share it with the world! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"

How can I incorporate what I have learned in a medium to help others, which will in turn give me a career that will fill this void I believe is missing in my life. Or, am I just crazy and selfish, and taking for granted the opportunities that I have now?

So many of us are stuck in the 8 to 5 jobs that we have mediocre feelings for at best. Just think about it...40 hours a week for the next 30-or so odd years is a lot of time, and a HUGE chunk out of my life. Why should I settle with anything less than what makes me feel like I am utilizing all of my potential?

Am I merely basking in the comfort of a salary and predictability as a means to float by, pay my bills in a timely manner, and ensure that I have proper health care?

Because if I am, that's bullshit. Plain and simple.

I just called myself out...Which stung a little...Damn, I can be tough.

Anyway, what I am searching for right now is a little guidance. Possibly some direction, a way to go...Some words of wisdom, or maybe just a swift kick in the ass.

Discuss amongst yourself, and feel free to clue me in on the mystery if you so desire.

*The above picture of my dog's asses was an accident that turned out to be one of my favorite pictures. Sometimes the unintended things in life can turn into a "happy accident." I just wish I could stumble upon a few more of them right now.

Fun With Corporate Training (Alternate Title: Reason Number Two of Why I'm an Asshole)

2008-08-08T12:08:00.005-05:00

Earlier today I had to finish a "Fair Lending" internet training session. For those of you who aren't up to speed on what "Fair Lending" is, it's basically a bunch of rules and regulations that we have to follow in order to make sure we are treating everyone equally in terms of lending money and executing appropriate customer service.

As an employee of an extremely large bank, I must complete this assigned training whether or not it specifically pertains to my job.

These sessions are usually tedious and boring. However, this session proved to be extremely entertaining as demonstrated by the following screen shot.

This made the water I was drinking at the time exit both out my mouth and through my nose all over my company-issued laptop.

I don't know if it's how blunt and matter of fact the statement "I don't like to lend money to gay people." is, or how douchebagish the guy in the photo appears to be, or a combination of the two.

It didn't end with "the gays" either. There was an instance where a Hispanic chico was hung up on, and where an Asian woman was nearly reduced to tears because of some asshole in the customer service department. I felt like saying, "Listen here Vicky Choi (that was her name) I have fallen victim to a rogue customer service agent a time or two and it's not fun. Next time ask to speak to a manager and get your business handled the right way...That's how we roll in America. Now go on over to M.I.T, get your degree in biochemistry and find a cure for cancer or some shit."

As you can see, "Fair Lending Training" did nothing for me.

A Dirty Plea

2008-08-01T09:42:00.006-05:00

It's no secret that I love Dirty Jobs...It is also no secret that I have a huge crush on Mike Rowe. Incidentally, this is no secret to Josh either...Which makes it completely acceptable.
At the end of the show, Mike Rowe asks the viewers to go to the Dirty Jobs website and submit ideas for more Dirty Jobs. Which is what I did. Mostly because I think my idea is awesome, but also because I want to stalk him. (Kidding...sorta.)
Anyway, I've decided to post the three entries I wrote on the site...These entries take place over the course of three days. My entry had a LOT of hits, but no comments, so feel free to stop on by to this link and reply to my job and rant and rave about what an awesome idea it is etc...I am Sunshine76.

Day One:
Ahhh…The Minnesota State Fair or “The Great Minnesota Get-Together”, or what I affectionately call “Loads of Poo and a Coronary on a Stick.” However you want to refer to this 320 acre affair, it runs for twelve days (this year from August 21-September 1st) and trust me when I tell you that it’s a variable cornucopia of dirty.
Everything from heaps of animal poo, to an onslaught of grease for deep-frying, to people from Wisconsin (Kidding…sort of.).If you are searching for dirty, you will find it here.
If you are wondering what you will find in the Grand Stand after a Black Crowes concert (besides the obvious one-hitters and empty flasks of gin), I am sure they will let you help them clean up. If you want to learn how to operate the Tilter-Whirl and risk the possibility of losing a limb, I can bet that the good (mostly one-handed) folks on the Midway will clue you in. If you would like your bust carved out of a block of butter…well, you have to become “Princess Kay of the Milky Way” to do that, but I am sure someone can be paid off.
Mini-doughnuts, cheese curds, fried pickles, deep-fried snickers bars, corn dogs, fried green tomatoes, just to name a few, are all made in either tiny little trailers or smack dab in the middle of a large, hot and greasy food building that will make you wish you were never born. Not to mention that they stopped serving 3/2 beer last year and graduated to the full-on brew which will undoubtedly render “housekeeping” many hours of fun cleaning out the johns.
I know I already mentioned poop…But did I mention the extent of poop? Barn after barn, after barn of every kind of animal you can think of. Horses, pigs, cows, chickens, llamas, sheep, goats…Have you ever seen pig testicles the size of a fourth grader? I have…and I saw it at The Fair.
This is the only place on God’s green earth (hopefully) where you can watch a heifer give birth and then walk across the street to purchase a Scotch Egg, which if you don’t know what one is, it’s a hard boiled egg wrapped in some sort of meat mixture, coated in breadcrumbs and deep fried...Just what you want to be eating with the smell of barnyard wafting in the background. Yummy…
If you need some help navigating this barrage of filth let me know, I would be more than happy to offer my 25 (O.K. FINE 32) years of experience attending this dirty, filthy, event that us Minnesotan’s have become so proud of.

Day Two:
Awwww…Throw me some props here!
Have you ever watched in horror as some random seven-year-old polishes off a bucket of chocolate chip cookies and then hops on “The Zipper?” The result is not pretty, and it’s darn dirty. What about the poor fools that have to prepare your “pork-chop-on-a-stick” in a 7X14 trailer when it’s 85 degrees outside with 98% humidity? Sweaty AND dirty…And there is NO WAY you can turn your head the other way to thousands of poo-caked, feather tarnished rooster/chicken/bird cages…You’ve never seen anything so filthy. Ever.
So, take a serious look at this one…And tell Barsky that there are cheese curds and beer in it for him. Who can pass that up?

Day Three:
This is my last attempt. Before I let this entry be discarded into the reject file with “Crime Scene Cleanup” and “Slaughterhouse Worker,” I have one more idea…If you’re not interested in actually going to The Fair, how about clean-up after?
Can you imagine the mess after 1.6 million people eat, drink, and frolic their way across 360 acres of prime St. Paul real estate? The mere thought of the environmental detriment is enough to make Al Gore cry himself to sleep.
The animal barns need to be cleaned, the rickety death traps they call “carnival rides” need to be packed up, the grease pits need to be emptied and the bathrooms need to be scrubbed.
If my plea has been in vain, that's O.K. You can still find me at The Fair. I’ll be the one sulking in the corner gnawing on a fresh ear of sweet corn and concealing my contraband in the form of a gin-filled plastic flask that I plan on smuggling into the Black Crowes concert.
Peace.
Sunshine76.

Reasons Why I'm an Asshole; Feeding the Homeless

2008-07-29T10:49:00.011-05:00

Feeding the homeless. It's an idea that in all other circumstances would be a completely non-asshole thing to do.

Volunteering at a soup kitchen, donating canned goods to a food shelf, giving money to organizations that help people in need are all really good ways to be a contributing member to society...right?

The other day while Josh and I were en route to wherever we were going we came to a stop at the top of an exit ramp where there happen to be a homeless person, holding a sign that read something like "Homeless, please help."

Now to set the stage for what Josh is about to say next I have to explain why he is driving around with a carton of 50+ beef sticks in the back of his car. Over the fourth of July holiday we were given the package of beef by my friends Dad who apparantly had an overabundant supply. I'm vegan, therefore I won't eat them, and they are WAY too chalk full of preservatives and cancer causing agents for Josh to want to as he refers to it, "Put them in the temple" or what most normal people would say, "eat them."

So as we were sitting there next to the homeless person, separated only by the tempered glass and steel of our German engineered air-conditioned vehicle, Josh looks at me and says, "Should I give him a beef stick?"

"OF COURSE, you should give him a beef stick!" I said.

But then the light turned green and we were unable to pawn off our chewable cancer wrapped in pork intestines to the unassuming homeless man.

The we starting talking, and this is where I become an asshole.

I asked Josh, "What if next time we're not close enough to the homeless person to be able to hand him or her a beef stick? We can't THROW it at them...that would be rude...Maybe we could create a shooting devise like those guns at sporting events where they shoot out t-shirts into the crowd. We could have a gun that shoots beefsticks at the homeless...and we could provide them with signs with targets on them for proper aim to ensure that no one loses and eye...And then as we are shooting we could scream "STEP INTO A SLIM JIM" so they know we are about to fire..."

And there you have it, launching food at the homeless...Just one, of many reasons why I'm an asshole.

Arrrrrr....

2008-07-25T13:21:00.010-05:00

For those of you who don't keep current of the happenings of important events that are either currently taking place, or are to take place in the relatively near future, here is a freebie.

September 19th is International Talk Like a Pirate Day and that day is quickly approaching.

I am already making plans to fashion an eyepatch and spend the enitre day using authentic pirate phrases like "Shiver me timbers!", "Baton down the hatches!",and "Thar she blows!"

Instead of saying "my" I will say "me" and I will call my office the "poop deck"...and I will not laugh just because I said the word "poop."

I will refer to my friends as "Matey's" and then I will quickly turn against them in an all too familiar pirate like manner and make them walk the plank while calling them a bunch of scallywags and waiving my sword in their faces.

I also think it would be quite fitting if I were to carry around a bag of "Veggie Booty." I could offer it as a tasty snack, or I could throw it at people as they walked by me...Burton loves Veggie Booty....

Lola, on the other hand is quite indifferent to it.

Not so much of a fan of the booty...

At the end of the day I will go to the bar and scream in my best pirate voice "More ale Wench!"...and eventually be surprised and mildly insulted when they make me leave with my sword, patch, and bag of booty.

Jerks.

I can't wait for September 19th.

Goodbye Sidney, Heaven Has a Wonderful New Angel.

2008-07-23T10:27:00.013-05:00

For the last few months I have been helping out here and there with a fundraising effort for my very good friend Chrissy's niece, Sindey.

Sindey was born on July 17 2007 and shortly thereafter was diagnosed with Microvillus Inclusion Disease, an extremely rare disease which basically prevents nutrients from being properly absorbed by the body.

Earlier this year she was sent to Miami to undergo multi-visceral transplant surgery, and recieved transplanted small intestines, large intestines, liver, stomach, pancreas, bladder, and two kidneys.

Sidney was a fighter, she was a brave and strong little girl who did everything she could to make it through, and did, until finally it was just too much.

Sidney peacefully passed away early yesterday morning in the arms of her mom and dad.

I don't know what it is like to be a parent, but I can imagine that losing a child is one of the most horrible things to have to go through.

I encourage you to visit Sidney's website and read her story. She has something to teach each and every one of us about perservence and being strong, not many people could put up with everything that little girl had to go though and still have a smile on their face.

She has taught me that we should be thankful for what we have and that we have a lot to learn when it comes to what really matters in life.

If you are able, I also encourage you to donate to her family, the cost of the medical procedures are (as can be imagined) extremely expensive and they could use all the help that those of us have to offer.

You can also view Sidney's story as reported on WCCO TV.

Not One Of My Finer Moments

2008-07-17T08:26:00.004-05:00

Following the seemingly ill-advised instructions of your drunk friend at a bachelorette party to put a shot glass in your cleavage and let some random guy then stick his face in your boobs while he takes the shot of alcohol (which is most probably the last thing he needs) is called "taking one for the team."

Having photos of the event is called "blackmail."

Posting them on your blog is called "stupid."

However, I thought this photo is much too hilarious not to post.

It was a night of drunken debauchery, and it was totally acceptable because we were 1). Drunk and 2). At a bachelorette party.

I find it absolutely amazing the things you can get away with when you are one of the members of a bachelorette party. People give you money, people take their shirts off at the bar and flex because you told them to, people take off their underwear and give them to you...It's up to you whether or not you want to put them on your head and parade around the bar. (No, that was NOT me...trust me...)

Also, people (by people I mean the guy in the photo with the flames on his shirt) can horn in on your moment and steal your thunder when they strip completely naked (COMPLETELY) and stand by the bar wearing nothing but your bra. (Hey, I didn't have a choice in the matter, my bra was the easiest to remove through my dress and my friend already had it half off me by the time I even noticed...Thank you Tanqueray.) My bra will never be the same because as you can see in the above photo, that guy isn't exactly...well....ahh...fit.

So there you have it. If I ever run for political office I am sure this picture will surface...Well, I know it will because you don't have to look too hard to find it...But hey, it's all in good fun!

It hasn't been long enough to forget my password!

2008-07-08T12:43:00.008-05:00

But it has been long...

I have no excuse. Busy? Yes. Lazy? Yes. A life full of jet setting vacations, hob-nobbing with the rich and famous and drinking martinis by the gallons? Hardly.

A few things that have happened since my last post:

Kirby

Kirby lasted with us less than four days. He tried to kill Lola on multiple occasions...This was a dog that would have even given Cesar a run for his money.

"But he's so cute, and innocent looking!" you say. Look, there's nothing cute and innocent about his jaws rapped around my dogs neck as I try to peel his angry snarling self off of her practically lifeless body. It was traumatic, it was horrible, and I cried for three of those four days.

He would literally walk circles around me in my living room and if Lola would even attempt to come close he would attack. I felt like I was being imprisoned, I felt like Julia Roberts in sleeping with the enemy. Only, he didn't really care about the bathroom towels or the cans in the cupboard....Oh, and I know how to swim...and I have better hair...

Anyway,I felt bad, but the people at the rescue assured me that it was O.K. to give him back and let them find a better home for him. The lady said that Lola is so submissive that it would take a dog to pretty much "kick is ass" to set him straight.

So, they put him in a foster home with three ass kickin dogs and it did nothing. He even kicked THEIR asses...Then went after the cat. When I called to check up on him, the foster organizer said that they decided to call him "Cujo."

Seriously though, he was a really sweet and good dog when there were no other animals around and they were able to find him a wonderful home with a wonderful family who adopted him.

Burton

So after Lola was able to psychologically heal, a couple of weeks went by and we were able to find the perfect pal for her and us. He's actually Lola's half brother. We made the trip to the same breeder...A wonderful woman with a huge farm with horses, and animals and a nice loving facility for the animals. Rolling hills and fields for them to run and play, they also board dogs for when you go on vacation. Her dogs all look so happy and I really feel good about going back and recommending her.

So, here is the little guy...

His name is Burton. Burt Squirt, Burton Bear...And he is just great. He and Lola sleep together, eat together, play together. He's teething right now and she even cleans his mouth for him and helps with his pain and suffering. It's so DAMN cute! They're best buds and we all couldn't be happier.

Oh, and he wears a tie for special occasions. Shut up. Would you expect anything less.

My dad

My dad is doing well. He still has dementia (obviously it's not going away),he still forgets who my husband is, and he still steals his wallet. Seriously. My dad has become a klepto since this whole dementia thing. And we laugh about it, mainly because we're a bunch of assholes, but also because it's pretty damn funny. A few months ago, my dad put on Josh's jacket, opened up the pocket, took his wallet out, opened it up, grabbed the bills out of it, and put them in his jeans pocket. All while we were all sitting in the living room.

It was as plain as day. I could have lit my ass on fire and hung it out the window of my speeding car, and I would still have been considerably more discreet.

Cabin:

I usually post a Top Ten List of the things I learned at the cabin over the Fourth of July Holiday. However, I didn't really learn anything new this year. Maybe it's because I'm getting older and I know that drinking a gallon of Margarita mix has never and will never be a good idea. Or maybe it's because I am no longer allowed near the bonfire with gasoline and matches, or maybe this was just an odd year. Anyway, it was still a blast, and I am still sun burnt.

But, it's always good to reminis.

Meet Kirby!

2008-03-10T13:22:00.006-05:00

The animal cuteness factor in my household just rose another 10 notches with the addition of our new adopted Jack Russell Terrier, Kirby.

Are you kidding me? I think I might have two of the most adorable dogs EVER (see Lola on the sidebar to your right).

I know...seriously...SHUT UP!

Kirby is about a year and a half old and came from a high kill shelter in Sioux City, IA that only gives their dogs 7 days and then they're put down. With the help of Midwest Animal Rescue we were able to save him and bring him into our home.

He's been adjusting well, just a few minor aggression issues with toys and food that can be fixed...He's already getting better, plus, he's having his "manhood" taken next week. Poor guy!

He is a cuddler and loves to play fetch, knows how to "sit," "stay," and "release" and he loves to play with his "new buddy" Lola!

I am so excited to have been able to help out and find Kirby a place in my home, now whenever I see those Iams commercials I don't have to go through an ENTIRE box of Kleenex, just a few tissues.

Aortic Aneurysms, Lacerated Fingers, and Rabid Pets

2008-03-03T14:12:00.008-06:00

The "Readers Digest" version of Jenni's life, Winter 2008.

I haven't written about this because it's consumed so much of my life over the past few months that I just didn't want to belabor the catastrophe. My dad has been in and out of the hospital with a slew of problems, including, but not limited to, an infected, bleeding colon, a mass on his left kidney, and now, an aortic aneurysm.

Now, in order to understand my dad you have to realize that the man has been through the ringer with his health. He had a pituitary tumor where they had to remove his pituitary gland in 1974. He's had three strokes, the first when I was 12 years old, and the last (known stroke) 16 years ago, when I was 16. Also, because of the tumor and the lack of pituitary gland, he's been dependent on cortisone, a drug in which his doctor said he's be lucky to live 25 years on...It's approaching 33.

He's also stubborn as hell, trying to reason with him is like trying to reason the sucker out of the hand of a three year old. It's been worse since the dementia, which really started to get bad within the last three months.

Which brings me to yesterday, when my two brothers, my sister and me went to my parent's house to convince my dad that he needs a stint put in his leg so his aeorta won't explode. He doesn't want to do it, and it was MY job to convince him. For some reason, the man will only listen to me...And there is background there, but I really don't want to get into it. It has to do with me being the youngest and being there with him for all of his strokes, teaching him how to read again, and pretty much watching after him. So it was on my shoulders to make him do this.

I got him to say that he will think about it, which is more than anyone else could do. Tomorrow my mom and I will go to his doctor where he and I will once again try and convince him that he needs this done. And you can't just say "Dad, you need to do this because if you don't you will die." It's much more complicated than that and he is MUCH too stubborn.

Not only that, but he has been really weak and frail, so the fact that he is going to be put in the situation where he will be under anesthesia is another concern all together. We just have to pray that everything will work out...

On a completely unrelated note, I almost sliced off my finger yesterday with a chefs knife as I was cutting a lemon. (See below)

The damn thing won't stop bleeding. Josh claims that I'm just a wuss and stitches are for pussy's. So, I've decided to prove him wrong and wait until my finger falls off from some flesh eating infection before I get it tended to...I'll show HIM!

And last but not least, I thought I would sign off with a lovely photo of my dog Lola getting ready to eat my friend's 5 lb Maltese, Peanut.

Kidding! Actually, they were playing here, not even growling, just wrestling with their mouths open like rabid canines ready to kill each other for dinner. Really, though, they DO love each other...Here's proof!

Tigger

2008-02-11T12:22:00.000-06:00

She was a good cat, she was a cat of many names...Tigger, Squid Squat, Meow Face, Fur Face. She was also a bit of a recluse...Shy, didn't like people much, except the ones that she knew. My dad nicknamed her "Osama" because whenever they would come over she would run and hide in the basement.

I "inherited" her about seven years ago from my sister. They had rescued her from a shelter when they lived in Pennsylvania. After, they moved back to Minnesota for a few years and then my brother-in-law was transferred to Tokyo. They couldn't bring the cat, so they asked, and I agreed to take her.

At the time I was living in a small one bedroom, it was a converted attic apartment in an old house in downtown Excelsior. When she moved in, she hid in my closet for a week. Only coming out when I was asleep.

Gradually, I must of grew on her because when I would come home she would join me in the living room and sleep with me at night.

She used to love to sleep in the window right behind my bed. One day when I was walking up the outside stairs to enter my apartment I found her sitting at the door...I wondered how she got out! I went over to my bed and the screen had fallen out of the window. She fell THREE STORIES! Not only that, but she knew enough to climb the stairs to the front door...I was impressed, and decided that she must have used at least four of her nine lives on that one.

When we moved to our house in Minneapolis she wasn't much interested in going outside, and when we brought Lola home, she immediately packed her bags and moved to the basement where she had the whole place to herself and was content to hide and play on her own terms...much like any other cat!

And talk about stubborn! She was definately a cat of her own will, and a cat after my own heart! It took her about three years to finally accept the dog, and decide that Lola was worth her presence...They would hang out in the kitchen and beg for treats together...a real life "Mutt and Jeff!"

The last few months were the worse for Tigger, about two months ago, she started to go blind, and had an issue with her thyroid. I didn't want any sort of weird exploratory surgery, I just wanted her to live out her last days in peace. Which she did.

Yesterday we found her stuck in a corner of the basement, she had gotten twisted in some old computer equipment of Josh's. He picked her up and she wasn't able to stand anymore. We immediately brought her to the emergency vet. She fell asleep on Josh in the car...It was so peaceful.

We decided that it was best to let her go...She shouldn't have to live this way anymore. No more pain. If only eveyone could be so lucky.

We were there when the Doctor gave Tigger the shots to put her down. She was quiet and it was so wonderful to see that there was no pain. I petted her and and told her what a good kitty she was and she just "fell asleep." We both cried, a member of our family was gone, and that's not easy.

Next week I can pick up her ashes, and we plan on burying them in the spring when the ground has thawed under a day lily at my sister's cabin, where she can be near us as we gather for fun times at the lake.

I will miss her.

Three Day Cleanse "Day Three"

2008-02-07T17:21:00.000-06:00

I have almost made it...If in the next 6 hours I don't rush the refrigerator in a fit of rage and start pigging out, I will have made it through my three day cleanse.

And to tell you the truth I really don't feel THAT different.

Maybe if I would have eaten like shit before I started I would be able to tell the difference, but since I'm already a vegan, I really don't notice any change.

I bet that for the average Joe it would be much like when I made the decision to stop eating animal products. After about two weeks you just feel more at peace...Your head feels clearer and your demeanor is much more calm, yet you have more energy and just feel...More happy.

I'm not even hungry anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go all Nichole Richie on your ass...I LOVE food. I have a food blog ferchirssakes...But you would think that after not eating food for three days one would be famished.

I just miss the taste of food, that's all. I enjoy cooking so much that I think that was the hardest part of all of this...Yes...Even more difficult that downing a 16 oz glass of prune juice every morning.

So, all in all, not a bad experience...and I will do it again, only maybe next time I'll find one that doesn't require the P.J. [GAG]

Oh, and for those of you who were concerned with the consistency and velocity of my poo ((Dr. K. N.), I would have to say that your description was quite accurate, and although I did not find out whether or not I could "thread a needle from 50 yards," I find that quite challenging...Maybe next time.

Three Day Cleanse "Day Two."

2008-02-06T18:11:00.001-06:00

My second day with the cleanse is going along quite swimmingly. After, of course, I get over the wrath of the 16oz glass of prune juice I have to consume in the morning. I am home bound for at least two hours after drinking it.

Thankfully, I office out of my home to I can take my time going to where I need to be.

But I have to say, I'm sick of prune juice and I am sick of apple juice. I actually look forward to the tablespoon of olive oil just so I can have something different tasting, besides...well...juice.

This afternoon my sister suggested that I warm the prune juice in the microwave before drinking it. She said something like it makes it taste like cinnamon...I couldn't really hear her because all I could focus on was the fact that I thought I was going to barf. Gross. I want that shit as cold as she comes or I'm not drinking it.

Warm prune juice.

*Gag*

Other than that, it's not that big of a deal. I'm really not that hungry...Except when I brought in lunch for a client today. I drove the whole half mile to their dealership with my head in the bag sniffing the food. Bad idea, because that made me hungry.

I can't watch TV either, the commercials make me hungry...So if I just isolate myself in a room with no TV, no magazines,and not anything that remotely resembles food I'll be fine.

Shit, I'm just going to go to bed.

Three Day Cleanse "Day One"

2008-02-05T10:21:00.001-06:00

I just finished my 16oz glass of prune juice...Just one of three that I will have to consume over the next three days. That, and three gallons of organic apple juice and just as much distilled water...in three days. Add three tablespoons of olive oil a day and 8 "Herbal Laxative" supplements and you have the making for one fun and craptastic cleanse!

Whoot Whoot!

Why am I doing this to myself? I mean, I'm a vegan so I already eat healthy enough as it is...

Do I like to torture myself in the form of raging diahrea?

Not really.

I just think that every once in a while we should clean out our systems. Get rid of everything that has collected in our gut so that we can feel even better.

So in order to keep myself on track I'm going to post an update every day to let those of you who care about my bowel health in on my progress.

Wish me luck.

P.S. It takes less than 45 minutes for a 16 oz glass of prune juice to kick into gear. Trust me...I know...

Frozen, but still alive.

2008-02-04T12:09:00.000-06:00

Despite rumors of an extended game of "One Handed Croquet", I am still here, and fortunately not lost somewhere in the woods of northern Wisconsin with my croquet mallet and a cocktail.

I've been frozen, snowed in, and just plain busy. Which is no excuse.

I have, however, been spending a bit more time here. Which means I have been spending more time in the kitchen which means I have been spending more time at the gym.

It's viscous circle.

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-19T08:50:00.000-06:00

So, Josh and I were trying to decide what picture to use for our annual Christmas card and I think we have narrowed it down to one...

Nuthin. But. Class.

I have determined that all we are missing is a car in blocks and a trailer park and we would have ourselves one fantastic white trash Christmas! Whoot Whoot!

Actually, this picture was taken at the cabin during a grueling two hour round of "One Handed Croquet." For those of you who do not know the rules of "One Handed Croquet" it is simple, you must have a cocktail in your hands at all times, if you set it down you have to start over. Trust me, it's a fantastic way to play the game, but on the flip side it usually takes twice as long to finish.

Here are some comments via email that I have already received from my friends...

Danika: "You could photoshop some Christmas ornaments to your boobs and then it would really be festive!"

Erica: "So romantic!!"

Gregg: "Nice. Reminds me of uncle Cletus and auntie Mabel."

So, take this as my wish for everyone to have a Merry Christmas and a happy and healthy 2008!

Oh, and "Yes" that is a picture of Ponch on Josh's shirt.

Casting Call!

2007-11-29T10:29:00.000-06:00

It has recently come to my attention that my nephew is a shoe-in for a young Lloyd from "Dumb and Dumber." I find this hysterically funny.

So if anyone knows the Farrelly Brothers and they're considering writing a prequel to the prequel to the movie, tell them to call me...I have their guy.

Garden Variety Rant

2007-11-26T17:12:00.000-06:00

I have had it. I have had it with this whole talk about "Black Friday."

Am I the only person who really could care less about how much we spent or how much retailers made on a given day in November?

I just turned on the news and that was the lead story..."Black Friday."

I can't stand it anymore...The way the newscasters talk about it with a smirk on their happy little faces like they're trying to say "Oh, look how clever we are to talk about "Black Friday" and it's cute little term with it's cute little "let's kick off the Holiday bullshit" In fact, let's take a whole long weekend to talk about this because I am sure that there is nothing better to talk about in the world like genocide or terrential monsoons that swept away peoples lives."

NEWSFLASH: THIS WAS FOUR DAYS AGO PEOPLE...BLACK FRIDAY IS OVER AND DONE WITH, MOVE ON

I'd rather them bring back the fucking bird flu crap than utter one more inane word about "Black Friday."

And then they started in about "Ciber Monday" and I nearly lost it. This is where I turned off the T.V.

"CIBER FUCKING MONDAY." As if we didn't get enough with "Black Friday" now you want me to sit here and listen to how retailers are going to gather in the hoards with their gimicks of "Free Shipping" and special on-line only sales.

Have we lost the true meaning of what this season is really about? Is it really about gifts, and shopping, and credit cards, and spending insane amounts of money on STUFF?

NO! It's NOT! It's about friends and family and get togethers, doing good for those that are less fortunate and being thankful for the things that we HAVE, not the things we are going to buy for "40% off One Day And One Day Only."

And what's the rush? Why did all those people stand outside in the cold in line at their local Walmart at 4:00 am on Friday? To save a few bucks on their flat screen TV? I'll tell you what, I can think of something I would rather be doing at 4:00am the day after a national holiday and It's called SLEEP. Not only that, but I'd be willing to pay 20% MORE than to have to stand in line and battle it out with the kind of people that would actually fall for the hype.

And to those people I have a few questions; Tell me, was it really worth it? Was it worth risking your life to be trampeled to death by some obsessed overweight couch potato who will stop at nothing to get his hands on that mediocre flat screened TV? Was it worth standing in line with screaming kids who are most probably sleep deprived thanks to their ridiculious parents who had to drag them out of bed to save a few bucks on STUFF? Was is worth wanting to drive your car off the nearest overpass because that asshole in the Dodge Neon just took the last parking space at the FREAKING MALL?

OF COURSE IT'S NOT WORTH IT...STOP IT! SERIOUSLY!

{I am attributing the above rant to my November detox. I have been 26 days without any sort of alcohol and I think it is wearing on me. Last night before I went to bed I almost started drinking my Listerine. Seriously it's that bad. All I have to say is, "Four more days to go....Four more days."
So, with that being said, If I insulted anyone in the aforementioned rant I apologize...I still think you're an idiot...But at least I'm sorry for it.}

2007-11-17T13:11:00.001-06:00

Raindrops on Roses and Bob Hope in statue...

2007-11-16T12:43:00.000-06:00

For those of you who have always wondered what a miniature bronzed Bob Hope would look like, wait no more...Although I don't have the actual picture I can assure you that he would look just like Cotton Hill from King of the Hill.

At least the miniature bronzed statue of Bob Hope at the VA Medical Center in Minneapolis does.

The only clue that lead me to believe that it was actually supposed to be Bob Hope was the plaque that was placed below him that read "Bob Hope." Otherwise I would have left that God-forsaken place believing that for some unknown reason the folks at the VA felt the need to bronze a cartoon character and place him adjacent to the visitor entrance.

The conversation between my mother and I went something like this.

J(Jenni)= Hey! Look! It's a bronzed Bob Hope!
M(Mom)= (staring and tilting her head from side to side) That doesn't look like Bob Hope...It looks like someone lopped off his shins and attached his feet to his knees...They must have run out of bronze.

I hate hospitals.

I was somehow roped into going with my mom and dad to my dad's dermatology appointment. I'm not going to get into the specifics, because my dads medical history is long and arduous. Just know that sitting in the same room while they preformed a biopsy on some skin cancer on his face and then having to smell burnt flesh while they cauterized the wound was not pleasant in the least.

After it was all over and done with my mom wanted to know if I wanted to go for lunch. Yeah, pass. I think I lost my appetite back there somewhere around the whole lancing and burning bucket of fun I was subjected too.

Thanks though!

Real Complicated

2007-11-09T13:16:00.000-06:00

Real Simple and I have issues.

When it was brand new I was most probably one if it's first subscribers, that was before it was five-thousand pages and didn't fit into my mailbox anymore. Now my mother-in-law renews my subscription every year.

In fact just the other day Josh was going through our "magazine bin" and after picking up the 20 lb magazine (with both hands) he said, why don't you cancel your subscription to this...It's WAY too big and has gotten out of control. I told him that I completely agree and that his mother is the one perpetuating the madness.

His response?

"Tell her to stop."

And he said it in the tone like she was just caught beating a puppy with the latest issue.

Honestly, I thought the magazine was great when it was new and fresh, now I don't know how many times I need to be reminded when to change out my toothbrush, or how many "Aha" uses a paperclip can have.

I'm done with you Real Simple.

Random Salad

2007-11-07T08:41:00.000-06:00

Don't get me wrong, I love snow...When it's Christmas time. But yesterday as I was getting out of my car in the Whole Foods parking lot and a snowflake fell gently from the sky and landed ever so softly on my jacket, I couldn't have been any more mortified than if it were Satan himself.

SNOW?!! WTF???!!!

I experienced "Effing Ow Part II"　yesterday and realized something...You know what sucks more than sitting in the chirapractors office while he pushes, cracks and pulls your body back into shape?

Paying $65 to let him do it.

Is threatening your cat with a "dirt nap" because of her incessant meowing wrong? And if you said "yes" to this, have you ever lived with a cat who incessantly meows?

Didn't think so.

What if....

2007-11-05T10:14:00.000-06:00

If my husband were Chinese he would look just like this guy...

Seriously, the resemblance is uncanny. Take a look for yourself...

O.K. so maybe that's not the best picture...Just take my word for it.

Oh, and go here for my latest gluten free vegan recipe!

Happy Halloween!

2007-10-31T08:28:00.000-05:00

...And make sure you watch out for THC laced candies...Or seek them out...

Hey, whatever blows your skirt up.

Drug Laced Candy Found in Hennepin County

Chocolates and caramels laced with the active ingredient in marijuana have been discovered in Hennepin County, Sheriff Rich Stanek reported Monday.

Tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC, was found cooked into the candies recently by the Southwest Hennepin Drug Task Force.

"With Halloween this week, it's important to warn parents of this potentially dangerous candy," Stanek said. "If a child eats a small amount of this candy, it's equivalent to smoking very potent marijuana cigarettes."

Which really wouldn't be out of the norm, right? I've always thought of children as just a bunch of drunk adults, imagining them as a bunch of high adults wouldn't be much of a stretch...It may actually calm them down, which would be a good thing...Right?)

The chocolates are thick and heavy, and can be found molded into shapes like hearts, stars, lips (like the Rolling Stones logo) and marijuana leaves. He said that the caramels can look very similar to homemade caramels, just slightly thicker (see photos on left).

(Since when was it ever O.K. to allow your child to accept homemade candy on Halloween from a stranger...If you do, I would say that marajuana laced treats are the least of your worries. I once received a half-eaten french silk pie from my neighbors on Halloween...They had ran out of candy and felt bad. I ate it with my best friend and parents...is this wrong?)

The THC is extracted from marijuana by boiling marijuana plants. The THC becomes oily and rises to the top of the water where it is skimmed off and cooled to create a paste similar to butter. The paste is commonly referred to as "budder." This "budder" can then be cooked into other foods such as brownies, chocolate and caramels.

(Genius, Pure Genius...Beat that Paula Dean!!!)

**Source KSTP.com**

Hot Damn, I'm Lazy

2007-10-30T11:26:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile. I am lazy. O.K., well maybe not LAZY, more so busy and uninterested in writing about my uneventful and somewhat recently lame existence.

I may have things to say, people to make fun of, and thoughts to explore, but when it comes down to it I have had no motivation to pull out my computer and actually put my thoughts into a somewhat coherent and entertaining thought process on this thing I call my "Blog." Which really hasn't been or resembled anything like what a blog should be.

It's been more of a posting board for fucked up videos including, but not limited to the recent YouTube video of the Finnish Dude singing his sad, sad, version of the "YMCA."

Which, by the way I still think is hilarious.

I have no excuse.

Pathetic.

I could write about my recent obsession with artichokes. Or that fact that after three years of living in seclusion in the basement my recluse cat has decided to finally come upstairs and join the family. Or I could just let it all go and start fresh...from today...living in the now...writing for the present.

Sounds good.

Oh, and can someone tell me why my sidebar has moved all the way down to the bottom of my page? I think it has something to do with the Finnish Dude, but I don't want to accept that because I refuse to delete him.

I'm Not Ready For This Sh!t...

2007-09-12T10:45:00.000-05:00

I don’t know about everyone else in the world, but in Minnesota it went from being 95 degrees and humid as hell to 60 degrees and *FREEZING! All within the matter of a week.

When it gets to be this **COLD, it means it’s time to bring out the fall jackets. Usually this event leads to exciting discoveries of lost money in the pockets of the aforementioned jackets. So when I put on my cute black fall jacket the other day and came up with nothing but a gumball machine plastic bobble head of Cleveland Brown from “Family Guy” you can imagine my disappointment.

Isn’t it some sort of LAW that you must find at least $5.00 in a pocket of a jacket that has been tucked away for the last six months? Or was I robbed from the Closet Fairy sometime this summer who used the money she collected from my multitude of winter wear to feed her growing cocaine habit?

I guess I’ll never know.

*The word “freezing” must only be used in the appropriate context in Minnesota when referring to 60 degree weather. For example, when it’s September and 60 degrees it’s “Freezing.” When it’s March and 60 degrees it’s warm enough to parade around in shorts and a tank top.

** See above.

MOTHER FU*@!R!!!

2007-08-17T16:57:00.000-05:00

Effing Ow.

Have you ever had a dislocated biceps tendon?

This morning when I went to the chiropractor because I could no longer sleep he told me that both of my biceps tendons were dislocated. Which doesn't surprise me in the least after the 18 holes of golf I played last Monday.

A lesson in anatomy:

The biceps tendon is the structure that connects the biceps muscle to the bone. There is a proximal biceps tendon at the shoulder joint, and a distal biceps tendon at the elbow.

For me, the tendon was dislocated at the shoulder joint. Which makes it hard to lift your arms past your waist, or sleep comfortably.

The thing is, this has happened to me before, but not for a few years and when I went in to get it "corrected" I essentially realized that it sucks more than I remember.

My chiropractor takes my arm, digs his thumb into the side of it while he locates the "loop" of the tendon then asks me to count to four in Spanish while he digs his thumb further into my arm and twists it just to the point where I think he's going to rip off my shoulder. Then he repeats this five more times...ON EACH ARM. Like counting in Spanish is suddenly going to make the pain dissapear. RIIIGGGHHHTTT...Not so much.

Now, being that I have R.A. I have a pretty high pain tolerance...THANKFULLY. I managed to live through it without crying, although I think I may have bit a hole through my lip.

Anyway, I feel much better and after the hour and a half adjustment I feel like all the pain was worth it...Until next time.

Gah.

Pole Dancing and Bangs

2007-08-09T09:00:00.001-05:00

Last weekend at the cabin as we were all sitting around the campfire drinking booze, we decided to play “Truth or Dare.” As a matter of fact, it wasn’t JUST “Truth or Dare”, it was “Truth, Dare, Double-Dare, Promise or Repeat.”

The long of the short of it is that I was “Dared” to do a pole dance. With a rake.

Now, I could probably throw out a few moves that would rival even the most seasoned skanky stripper, but the problem there was, the rake wasn’t attached to anything. So essentially I just shimmied up and down the rake in a most drunk, obnoxious, and most probably non-sexy way. Thankfully, my audience was also drunk so they thought it was brilliant.

[Note to self: Strip in front of drunk people.]

Speaking of dare, I went to my hair stylist yesterday for my scheduled appointment. I was fully intending to go in and do something drastic. More specifically, I wanted to get an inverted bob.

She talked me out of it.

She said she just loves my hair and I shouldn’t do something THAT drastic right away. With that being said, I still wanted something different, so I gave her control and she cut me some bangs.

I haven’t had BANGS since the 1st grade, and I’m not so sure how I feel about them. I mean, they look great when I have my hair pulled back, but when it’s all down I feel like I look like Joe Dirt.

OK, so it’s not THAT bad, and I don’t have a mullet, I guess I’m just not used to them.

Thankfully my hair grows fast.

It’s only hair.

I'm O.K.

2007-08-02T09:30:00.001-05:00

This is crazy. Although, I don't travel on this bridge every day, I'm on it often enough to be shaken up about it.

As a matter of fact, I have been avoiding this bridge the past few months because of the construction, and only taking it when it wasn't rush hour. It has been a pain in ass...Which I bet for many was a blessing in disguise.

This bridge usually has eight lanes of traffic (four in each direction open, but thankfully because of the construction it was down to two lanes. It's hard to say this, but it could have been much worse.

Here's a first hand account. Plus video of the collapse as it is happening taken by a surveillance camera.

New Beginnings

2007-07-25T12:17:00.000-05:00

So, I've decided to start another blog. It's taken me a long time to even want to share what I've been through, the bulk of it while still writing on this blog.

I never wrote about my battle with Rheumatoid Arthritis on this blog because it was something I didn't want to share. I didn't want people to feel sorry for me, and I didn't want to drag it into this part of my life.

For all intensive purposes, my blog friends knew me as someone without R.A., whereas my family and friends knew me as someone who struggled with it.

Good news is, the struggling is mostly a thing of the past. I have come SO far from where I was. Not being able to do everyday things that most people take for granted. Like combing my hair, or just walking down the block.

I could go on and on, but I won't...Instead, I'll direct you here.

This new blog will be about how becomming a Gluten-Free Vegan has changed my life. It will be about great food, and recipies, and maybe not so great food that I'll take the liberty of trying and reviewing...Like the package of Road's End Organic's Dairy Free, Gluten-free "Penne & Chreese" (No, that wasn't a typo...it's really "Chreese."Although I can't really say it's "not so great" since it's just sitting in my cupbord...I haven't actually tried it yet, I guess I'm just waiting for the right time!) And on foods that maybe have historically been given a bad rap...(GSR...you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about...You and your anti-beet bantor. Actually, I have a GREAT recipe for a home-made salad dressing that goes famously with a fresh herb salad with red onions, walnuts, carmelized pears and beets. And you MUST try it!)

Anyway, I want to be able to help people realize that as a vegan you CAN have really great food (without the dairy and meat and the processed foods that as American's we all grew up with) without sacrificing taste or nutrition.

I will still be posting about everyday life on Swank or Skank, but I can imagine most of my time will be focused on "The Healing Plate."

So, let's raise our glasses and toast to a great new beginning!

Poison Rocks the Hiz-Ouse

2007-07-19T17:17:00.000-05:00

Wednesday night I went to the Poison concert with some girlfriends at the Myth in Maplewood. Yes, I realize that it is no longer 1989, I don't pin my jeans anymore and my hairspray use has since declined dramatically. But I have to tell you something, the concert was AWESOME.

Standing there amongst the crowded masses of drunk people, I remembered just how important music is in my life. Music is a time machine that can transport you back to the carefree days of your youth. Those songs that I sang along with and incidentally knew every single word to, brought me back to when I was a kid. It was nice to feel that way again...A sense of carefree happiness.

It's amazing to realize that they have been entertaining for 21 years! TWENTY ONE YEARS! It also dates me, which is not so amazing. More depressing than anything actually.

Eh, C'est la vie!

Jenni's "How To."

2007-07-18T08:31:00.000-05:00

How To Lose 10 Lbs of Water Weight In Under 35 Minutes:

It's simple. Just get up at 7:00 in the morning and run three-and-a-half miles when it's 80 degrees and 79% humidity.

(Alternate titles; "How To Sweat Off Any Residual Makeup On Your Face", "How To Feel Like You're Going To Pass Out Upon Entering The Air Conditioning Of Your Home," and "How To Rapidly Achieve Heat Stroke."

Mad Skills

2007-07-16T17:30:00.000-05:00

I realized something on Friday night while Danika, Sandra, Josh and I were at the Chatterbox in Minneapolis.

I have mad Pictionary skills.

Mad to the point that people were actually fighting to be my partner...O.K., well maybe not fighting, but you get the point. I'm THAT good at Pictionary.

Case in point. I will give you one hint at this truly ingenious picture that I drew of an "Action" after not only one, but THREE sangria's.

Hint: It's NOT a "chicken kiss", however if you did guess "chicken kiss" you get a bonus point for being highly creative in that you are aware that real chickens don't have lips, and that you genuinely believe that if they did, that same chicken would actually kiss you instead of try to peck out your eyeballs.

The Top 10 Things I Learned at the Cabin July 2007 (Plus Bonus Top Ten Glossary!)

2007-07-13T17:30:00.000-05:00

So, I've been waiting to post this because I have this awesome picture of the "pet chicken" that is mentioned on the list, but I may just have to post that at a later date since there is an issue getting the pictures off my digital camera that is much to complicated to explain. SO, without further adieu, I give you the infamous;

"Top Ten Things I Learned at the Cabin 2007."

10. Walking into a bar and interrupting a conversation between a group of people by standing directly in front of their table, saying “Hi”, and then staring at them is weird. Don’t do it.

9. Every golf game should begin with a Bloody Mary.

8. Apparently it is not strange for people in Northern Wisconsin to have chickens as pets and name them “Dinner.”

7. If you think you lost your wedding ring in the lake, the chances of finding said ring are slim to none. Yes, even with snorkeling equipment.

6. When someone finds your wedding ring sitting in your chair after searching for it for an hour IN THE LAKE it’s O.K. to swim half way across the lake in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

5. Singing Girl Scout songs around the campfire is fun. (Shut up Josh, IT IS fun.)

4. If you fall and skin your knee at 11:30 at night chances are you won’t remember it until 10:00 the next morning.

3.Neil Diamond’s Greatest Hits is possibly the best CD EVER. Ever.

2. Making a GIGANTIC margarita at 11:00 PM. is possibly the worse idea EVER. Ever.

1. And the number one thing I learned at the Cabin in 2007…..

The joy of spending time with good friends in the wilderness makes every day problems seem utterly insignificant.

Bonus! Top Ten Things I Learned at the Cabin Glossary!

July 2005
July 2006

UPDATE!
I was finally able to get my pictures off my camera! The following picture was taken in a grocery store parking lot after discovering a chicken in a cage in this woman's car. She more than happily took the bird out of it's cage to introduce me to their family pet "Dinner." I had to take a picture since I didn't think anyone would believe me otherwise!

It's 9:15 am...Time to get our drink on Bloody Mary Style at the golf course.

Ahhhh..Sorry 'bout that...yep...it's in the chair.

"Got a story doot-doot-doot-doot...About Jaws doot-doot-doot-doot..."

Jamba Juice and Water Skiing.

2007-06-25T17:29:00.000-05:00

Last Friday the kid that rang up my order at Jamba Juice told me that I have the best job in the world.

Let me explain.

I was there buying five drinks for one of my stores that was having an "emergency Jamba Juice moment" and when he asked me if I needed a detailed receipt and I said "No, I'm just going to expense the whole thing." his eyes lit up and he said "Wow, you must have like the best job in the world."

Right.

I have the best job in the whole world because I have to dredge all the way over here in the pouring rain to fetch Jamba Juice. But never mind that. I got FREE Jamba Juice. I felt like telling him, look, there's nothing FREE about this Jamba Juice as I expect at least a hundred thousand dollars in business for this $16.50 cent bill. Now gimme my soy Razmatazz and shut the hell up.

In other news, this is where I was this weekend...

Chrissy and Luke came up to my sister's cabin where we were able to enjoy a day-and-a-half of fun in the sun on the lake. We were just warming up for our annual "4th of July Trip" that will be this coming weekend at Chrissy's cabin in Northern Wisconsin, which always ends with a "Top Ten List." More on that to come....

(Yes, I know, my dog is wearing a life vest.)

An Open Letter to a Douchebag

2007-06-21T07:53:00.000-05:00

To the Douchebag who has this bumper sticker on his vehicle;

“Foreign cars are like tampons, every pussy’s got one.”

You are an idiot.

First of all, has your mother seen this? Or more importantly, has your GRANDMOTHER? Unless they are living in a trailer park in the back-woods of Alabama I can guarantee you, they would be extremely offended.
If I pulled up to my moms house with that attached to my car she would first, most probably rip out her eyeballs, and then she'd make me scrape it off my car with my teeth...All while saying the Lords Prayer and the Apostle's Creed ten times in succession.

Secondly, do you think this is funny? Seriously? Because I think it makes you look like a complete tool. Which, I don’t know if you’re up on this or not, is something you don’t want to look like. In fact, the majority of the people I know wake up every morning and make sure that they don’t appear to be as stupid and lame as you. Yes, you are the benchmark for stupid.

And lastly, that sentence is a grammatical nightmare and it makes you look like even more of an A-hole than you already are.

Maybe next time, before you attach bumper stickers to your car, you should seek advice from someone besides your idiotic friends.

Jenni

P.S. You know the 1994 primer-black painted Blazer you’re driving? The majority of its parts were made in Mexico.

Jackass.

Oh the places I go...

2007-06-19T13:58:00.000-05:00

Who says that posing with a gigantic statue of Paul Bunyon and Babe the Blue Ox is just for kids. Pssshhhtttt...Whatever.

Thankfully, I get to travel to the outermost regions of Minnesota to see equally huge and disturbing paper-mache-like statues of weirdness. Like the giant Norseman in Alexandria who claims that his resting place is the "Birthplace of America." I don't know about you, but I'm in no position to argue with a three-story-high dude carrying a shield and long, sharp sword-thingy.

And then there's always this. Which thankfully is no longer in my territory so I don't have to drive by it and mutter out loud, "What the F...?"

Not only are there sculptures, but there are also other entertaining things to do in Northern Minnesota...

Ahhhh, yes, the "Meatball Supper." Which is not to be confused with the "Pancake Breakfast" or the "Spaghetti Dinner." Bring your own caserole and pan of "bars" (pronounced "bahrs")and you're in like Flynn.

People "Up North" also like to shoot things...

Hmmmmm...I'm not even going to go there with this one.

But there are also many other beautiful things to see when you're in the middle of nowhere. Like this...
And this...
And especially this.
...Which is a far cry from civilization, but a little closer to heaven.

Caution: Post Contains Symbolism, Deep Thoughts, and Lame Metaphors

2007-06-12T07:34:00.000-05:00

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than those you did. So throw out the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the wind in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

~Mark Twain

This morning when I opened up Josh's laptop to check my personal email, I noticed that he had the above quote as his wallpaper. And it really resonated within me. This quote. Talking about living your dreams and taking risks. There are so many things I want to do creatively with my life...I just need to do them. Period.

Earlier during my spin class, my instructor said to pick a word for the day, a word that will help guide you, a sort of theme perhaps. The word that first came to my mind was "ball-buster." And I spent the entire class trying to figure out if "ball-buster" was one word or two. I mean, it's hyphenated, so technically it's one word, however "ball" and "buster" can also be used seperately.

Anyway, I decided that it was one word and that I was going to use it. And to tell you the truth, it really helped me through each and every hill-climb interval.

So, the long of the short of it is, I'm glad I didn't hit snooze when I woke up at 5:10 this morning. I'm glad I went and worked my ass off because in the end, it makes me a better (tolerable) person, more relaxed and at peace with myself.

And maybe there is a weird sort of symbolism going on here...Like making sure I'm not hitting the snooze button on my life. Making sure I'm living up to my full potential and not selling myself short. Maybe it's time to start living the way I want to live by mainstreaming my passions into a livlihood instead of just a hobby.

Maybe...

Happy Birthday Lola!

2007-05-17T08:00:00.000-05:00

That's right...My little girl turns THREE today! It feels just like yesterday that we brought her home to live with us.

Awwwww...wasn't she just the cutest puppy?

She's made lots of friends in the three years she's been a part of our lives.

There's Moonpie the Grayhound...

...And Roxanne the Standard Poodle, just to name a few (This picture was taken after we dog sat Roxanne for a week and decided it would be a good idea to give her a mohawk before giving her back...It was ALL Lola's idea.)

She's also made many different fashion choices of which I SWEAR I had NOTHING to do with...

She greets me at home with enthusiasm even if I just walked out the door to get the mail, and she cuddles with me at night when she's tired and wants to sleep...She is my best four legged friend and I am proud to call her my buddy.

Happy Birthday Lola!

A Weekend in the Fog

2007-04-30T13:31:00.000-05:00

This pretty much sums up my weekend.

That picture was taken Friday night while he was "studying" for the first of a series of exams he needs to take for an important designation that pertains to his career. (He ended up taking the SIX HOUR exam the next morning...We are crossing our fingers that he actually passes.)
This was before Danika and I closed down the local neighborhood dive and were the feature Karoke singers. Or, so we would have liked to think. Sandra joined us at the peak of my drunkenness and was just in time to see me at my finest.

Saturday morning I woke up still drunk. I decided it would be a good idea to take Lola for a run around the lake and I’ve now decided that running while intoxicated is actually probably the best way to run. Seriously.

Saturday night I had a wedding to attend. I started off fine, but getting together with this group of girls always leads to trouble.

Here I am at the beginning of the night…

This is probably around the middle somewhere…

And this is the end.

Notice the blur…yeah… And I'm only BRIEFLY going to mention how I ended up FALLING out of the car when we finally did make it home. Thanks Josh, especially for pointing and laughing as I lay injured in the driveway. That was not my best moment, thanks.

The thought of alcohol makes me want to run and hide, so I’m going to take it easy for awhile…However, Cinco De Mayo is coming up this Saturday and I have plans to spend the day downtown and at a Twins game, therefore I have a feeling my ride on the wagon will be short lived.

Damn.

Alphabet City

2007-04-25T08:00:00.000-05:00

So, I was tagged by Mystery Girl, and I thought it would be fun, so here it goes!

A-Available or Single?
Neither…Is this a trick question?

B-Best Friend:
My husband.

C-Cake or Pie:
As long as it’s gluten free and vegan I’m eating it…Like five minutes ago…It’s already gone.

D-Drink of Choice:
Skyy Vodka Dirty Martini, up with extra Olives, Starbucks “Zen” iced tea (no sweetner please) and WATER…lots of water. (Especially the day after too many of the first)

E-Essential Item(s):
Lip Gloss and my cell phone.

F- Favorite Color:
It depends on what for. I like shades of pink for clothes, greyish blues/greens for wall colors, and black for accents…wait…Has anyone decided if black is an actual color yet?

G- Gummi Bears or Worms?
Pass, too much sugar makes me achy. Plus, aren’t they made of gelatin which comes from animal feet? Eew.

H- Hometown:
It’s the same city where the “Mall of America” is located, which if you ask me, is the second most obnoxious building standing. (The first being “Lambeau Field” of course.)

I- Indulgence:
Pedicures, Massages, and Chocolate.

J- January or February:
Neither. They’re both freaking cold. I’d trade them in any day for two more July’s.

K- Kids:
No…I mean, not yet…I mean…I dunno. Wait, did my mother-in law put you up to this?

L- Life is incomplete without:
Lola

M- Marriage Date:
August 21st 2004

N- Number of Siblings:
Three. Although they are more like parents due to the ENORMOUS age gap between us. I was raised pretty much as an only child.

O- Oranges or Apples?
How can you compare? I’ll take them both.

P- Phobias/Fears.
Old Navy Commercials and Richard Simmons.

Q- Favorite Quote:
“There are plenty of things to think about, but nothing to worry about.”
~Matthew Koepke
(Don’t laugh; It was recently a quote on “Extreme Home Makeover.” I ususally don’t use quotes that are associated with Ty Pennington, but this one is right on.)

R- Reasons to smile:
The smell of the lake on a warm summers day, the sound of the rain falling when I’m cozied up on the sofa with a book or a magazine, the laughter of friends, and the embrace of loved ones. Life is good.

S- Season:
Summer. Hands down.

T- Tag Three:
Sandra Steph Erica Only play if you like.

U- Unknown Fact About Me:
Unknown to whom? I am such a dreamer. I could spend half my day daydreaming about what I want to do with my life and where I want to go. You can often find me with my head in the clouds.

V – Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals?
Vegetarian!

W- Worst Habit(s):
I am the worlds best procrastinator, my organizational skills are virtually nonexistent, and I like to belch…loud.

X – X-rays or Ultrasounds?
What? Why? “Is it a boy or a girl?” Or, “Is it broken?” Right now I don’t need either one thanks.
Y- Your Favorite Foods:
Mangos, pineapple, bananas, fresh spinach salads with strawberries and almonds. I love Thai food, curry, tofu, and anything vegi friendly.

Z- Zodiac: I am a garden-varitey Pisces.

No Mo Blonde

2007-04-20T16:52:00.000-05:00

I did it.

I did the unthinkable.

I went from a blonde to a brunette in just under two hours....and I love it.

Quoting my friend Kyrsten, "Eh, being blonde is over-rated anyway."

I've been blonde my whole life. My senior year of highschool, when my hair began to darken, my sister decided that it would be fun to "lighten" my hair, and I've been lightning it ever since. So, earlier this week, knowing full well that I had a hair appointment on Thursday I decided that I wanted a change, I wanted to be a brunette.

So here it is ladies and gents, Jenni with brown hair. Guarantee, it WILL lighten when I wash it, and being in the sun will also make it not so drastic, but when it's all said and done, I wouldn't change it and I don't know if I'll ever cross-over into the world of the light-haired ever again.

Sometimes change is good.

Disappearing Act

2007-04-13T17:58:00.000-05:00

I’ve been really good at that lately…Disappearing that is. I’ve been disappearing into my work, the gym, and the company of my friends. Honestly, I’ve been busy…But not that busy.

Speaking of disappearing, I have a mouse in my house that I wish would disappear. He’s taken up residence somewhere in my kitchen. My original thought was to purchase a humane trap and lure him in there where I would then release him into the wild so he could live the rest of his cute-little life in the wilderness somewhere down by the Mississippi River (preferably in a van, but probably not)

The problem is, it’s been at least two weeks and nothing. I even gave him organic peanut butter to feast upon and he STILL doesn’t want anything to do with it. I’m starting to think that prior to moving in, he was feasting over at my neighbors garbage which is filled with Cheeto’s, Frito’s, Dorito’s and every other kind of O’s so when I present him with food that is not only TASTY, but GOOD for his tiny four-legged body, he just turns up his nose in search of something processed and nasty.

I believe I am living with a mouse that has somehow assimilated himself to the American diet. It’s like in New York City where they have to bribe their rodents with canoli’s and corned beef…I must do the same and purchase something similar…something processed…something that contains enough trans-fat to lure this little son of satan into the trap.

However, I have run out of time. Unfortunately, Josh brought out the big guns and purchased two deadly traps that are sure to decapitate the little SOB in a matter of seconds. Which is why I refuse to look under the sink until I receive the “all clear.” The LAST thing I want to see is a furry little critter with his neck broken next to my dishwasher soap and sponges. It’s more or less the fact that the little guy won’t even know what hit him…Which is why I had to have a conversation with the cat.

“Squid Squat, I don’t ask for much. I feed you organic cat food, give you a nice warm place to sleep, I even don’t get angry when you throw up on my clean clothes, but it’s time you earned your keep…”

I continued on lecturing her on what it means to be a cat, her responsibilities and such, but all that landed me was the signal to pet her, some cat drool on my hand, and then I was dismissed as she went back to sleep.

Ingrate.

The dog isn’t much help. She hears the thing scurry across the floor, takes after it like a bat out of hell barking and carrying on, and scares it back into it’s seclusion for another 24 hours or so.

I’m ready to give up. I mean, I want to catch it before it dies because then all I’ll have left is the smell of decaying animal carcass which will only lead me on the inevitable hunt for something I absolutely don’t want to see….EEW….Not fun.

Any suggestions?

I LOVE New York

2007-03-18T19:39:00.000-05:00

That's right...I Love New York.

I don't know if it was the vast selection of restaurants that left this gluten-free (*unconventional) vegan girl without a culinary want in the world, or if it was the magnetic lights of Times Square, or the indisguisable smell of city sewer mixed with bustle of pure urban life that literally screamed "Existing in this ethnic melting pot of a city is quite possibly the best existence there is."

I felt at home, and I loved it.

Our room at the Westin located in Times Square definitely helped with this. The fabulous dual-headed shower along with the "Heavenly Bed" managed to assist in the pleasure of resting my tired feet after a long day of walking, shopping and eating.

And speaking of eating...I was able to pick up the 2007 edition of "The Vegan Guide to New York City" which led us to the most interesting and delicious restaurants I have had the pleasure of visiting while on vacation, including, but not limited to "Babycakes" the best gluten-free vegan bakery this side of the Milky Way...

Yummy.

And this place...

...Wild Ginger, had possibly the best "Pan-Asian" vegan cuisine I had ever had...ever.

But enough about food. We took a double-decker bus tour around the city that was awesome, especially since we were able to get out, walk around, and catch the next bus whenever we felt like it.

Here we are at the back of the bus trying so hard to behave ourselves...

...unlike this guy who sought, took and conquered the challenge of riding the Wall Street Bull in the heart of the financial district...

...I love this guy.

OK, I have to get back to the food thing. Being the unconventional sushi-loving vegan that I am we had to spend one night at a local sushi joint enjoying this lovely bowl of sashimi...

...Isn't it fabulous? Don't ask what's up with the Fonzie thumbs...Or the peace sign that seemed to have surfaced in multiple pictures throughout the trip.

I dunno...Whatever.

We did manage to do some cultural things as well, like visit the top of the Empire State Building. The view was spectacular, and although the fierce, cold wind was a little more than I could handle, I managed to wait patiently inside while Josh enjoyed the "audio tour" and froze his ass off.

All-in-all it was a great trip and I can't wait to go back when it's a bit warmer to see all that we missed. Like Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Ground Zero, and so, so much more.

(*An unconventional Vegan is my definition for someone like myself who although stays away from meat, dairy, and eggs can't quite keep herself from enjoying the occasional night at the sushi bar...Mmmmmmm sashimi...)

Just another snow day....

2007-03-09T07:40:00.000-06:00

I recieved an email from my finance director at one of my dealerships entitled "Just another snowday at Rosedale Chev." In the car business, when it snows out, everyone in the dealership has to go out and "broom" cars which entails removing the snow from the vehicles and moving them around to plow the lot. The following pictures were taken after last week's snowstorm.

Hilarious. Makes you wanna go out and buy an Aveo, doesn't it?

Anyway, I'm back from my business/pleasure trip to New York City...pictures to follow!

A Pictorial Presentation of My Morning Spin Class

2007-02-28T12:15:00.000-06:00

This morning I went to a spin class that I usually don’t go to. It was at a gym in an “uppity” suburb typically associated with Land Rovers, soccer moms, and Mc Mansions.

Unfortunately for me, I arrived right before it started and was able to snag the LAST available bike which just happened to be in the front row. Of course it was, why wouldn’t it be?
Apparently there is some sort of rule that if you’ve never been to a certain class at a certain gym and you can’t find the pedal clips for your bike because they’re MISSING and the whole scene is only magnified because you’re in the front row and the instructor so kindly gets off her bike to bring you a pair of clips and everyone stops and looks at you like “Oh, she must be NEW…”

Anyway…

Nick Nolte was there.

O.K, so maybe it wasn’t THE Nick Nolte, but the guy struck an uncanny resemblance to his famous mug shot photo, hair and all.

The room was also full of these ladies.

Yup, one of them was even wearing her cashmere hoddie tied around her shoulders like some kind of country club trophy wife, decked out in her fancy jewelry and expensive fake ta-ta’s.
It didn’t appear as though she was there to get a workout, but instead to parade around in her little outfit and hit on the twenty-something bo-hunk who was working out next to her.

And the more I looked around the room the more I realized that these women actually put on makeup and did their hair...All for what?

I on the other hand, looked more like this:

Except that I’m blonde and look NOTHING like Yasmine Bleeth, but you get the picture. I could give a rat’s ass what I look like when I go work out because I know that at the end of a 60-minute spin class I’m going to look like a train-wreck anyway.

I don’t know…Maybe it’s just me…Maybe I should be primping myself more for the gym.

Wait…I can’t believe I just wrote that. I think their sweat glands or extravagant perfume emitted some sort of hypnotic fume…A kind of weird Stepford Wives deal…

Must. Wear. Pearls.

A Town Called Nimrod

2007-02-23T17:23:00.000-06:00

Nimrod. It’s a place many would love to call home. Or not.

I passed this sign on the way up to visit clients in Bemidji, MN and I have to say, I found it particularly odd that someone would name a town “Nimrod” unless of course they had a really poor sense of humor or some sort of self-hatred disorder.

“Hi, I’m Jenni and I live in Nimrod, MN…By choice.”

Yeah, not so much.

So when I arrived home I decided to do some research and I Googled “Nimrod, MN” and this is what I found.

“Nimrod is a city in Wadena County, Minnesota, United States. The population was 75 at the 2000 census.
Nimrod is one of the smallest incorporated towns in Minnesota. It is included on most major maps…”

Ah, HA! Apparently 75 Nimrods live in Nimrod…I wonder if they have a Mayor? If not, I wonder if they need one…Or if they’ve ever had any applicants. Afterall, being the mayor of Nimord would not only carry with it an AWESOME title, but the praise and distinction of being a mayor in an incorporated town that is included on MOST major maps…but not all of them.

The demographics are even more surprising, according to Wikipedia, “As of the census2 of 2000, there were 75 people, 35 households, and 17 families residing in the city...The racial makeup of the city was 100.00% White.”

Now here’s a surprise, the racial makeup of Nimrod is "100% white."

I don’t know one brotha who would be caught dead living in a town called Nimrod…As a matter of fact, I think you’d most probably have a better chance getting him to move to “Cracker” or possibly “Honkey.”

Definitely not Nimrod.

But the best part of Nimrod is that apparantly THIS GUY lives there. Go figure.

A true Nimrod from Nimord. How special, and at the same time, mind-numbingly ironic.

And if you thought that was great, check this out. Apparantly there was a book about “The Chronicles of Life in Nimrod, MN.” That unfortunately is now out of print…Here is the cover:

I can’t even begin to make this up. The people from Nimrod wrote a book about their life and on the cover they chose to put a huge fuscia ass in a pink flamingo-filled garden.

First of all, are those skorts? Secondly, Do you think this poor woman knows that her picture (in that compromising weed-pulling positon) was chosen to dawn the cover of a book about her town? Is it also OK to assume that if she did know, she would think twice about bending over in public during daylight ever again?

Could Nimrod quite possibly be some obscure city between Canada and Oz?

I’m beginning to wonder myself.

When and When Not to Use “The Wave” While Operating a Motor Vehicle.

2007-02-15T17:58:00.000-06:00

The Wave; Everyone’s done it, or at least have seen it done. But there are only two valid reasons to perform it in an everyday driving situation.

1). To acknowledge someone you are familiar with.

Example: I am driving down the road and notice a recognizable oncoming automobile. I see the HUGE Pontiac sticker on the front windshield, hear the rumble and scrape from a dangling muffler, and immediately realize that it is my neighbors back-woods hick of a renter whom last I saw was dawning a mullet and smoking a pack of menthols in a lawnchair in the driveway. So, I smile, wave in acknowledgment and mutter something profane and insulting under my breath and carry on with my travels.

2). To express gratitude.

Example: I approach a four-way stop sign at the same time as another driver to my right. As stated in drivers etiquette, I wait, as the person to my RIGHT essentially has the right-of-way. I then become antsy, sigh, and mouth the word “GO!” doing my best to make sure the other driver can read my lips. It is then that driver smiles and gestures that I go first. To sarcastically express my gratitude and that the driver is clearly an idiot, I wave and carry on with my travels.

Those are the ONLY TWO CIRCUMSTANCES where “The Wave” can be deemed appropriate while operating a moving automobile.

IT IS NOT OK TO WAVE AFTER YOU’VE ALMOST KILLED SOMEONE.

Waving into your rear-view mirror, or towards the back of your rear window IS NOT OK.

Example: I am driving in the fast lane on Crosstown 62 when you decide to switch lanes. Unfortunately for me, you do not notice that I am right next to you. I slam on my breaks to avoid the situation where you slam your retired police-issue Crown Victoria into my automobile causing my vehicle to careen over the freeway divider and into oncoming traffic. After laying on my horn you continue to merge into my lane and only after doing so do you realize that “Yes, that it is the lady behind you that almost flew through her windshield and landed in the backseat of your ghetto cruiser.” Taking a moment to ponder what a horrible driver you are, you realize what you have done and you stop, raise your hand in the air and…wait for it...Wave.

THIS IS NOT OK.

Waiving is not going to take away the fact that I almost died. It is also not going change my mind which at that moment in time I believe you are possibly the worst driver on the face of God’s green earth. In fact, it makes me want to flip you off…which I do…Which is TOTALLY acceptable.

Stay tuned for “Creative Ways to Flip People Off While Operating A Motor Vehicle.”

An Ode to Valentines Day

2007-02-14T08:00:00.000-06:00

First of all, this is an actual comment I had written for Citizen of the Month. It was in response to a post on Valentines Day and for some reason I could not post it, so I saved it and was going to post it later. It turns out I never did post it, but came across it and thought the world would be a better place if it was published.”

“The thought of someone hanging themselves with a chain of panty liners is bone-chilling.

All I can picture is walking into the scene of the suicide and seeing a woman hanging in the bathroom stall via Kotex under a flickering fluorescent light in some sterile workplace lavatory. Her last waking moment was that of pure angst after ripping down the "Please do not flush tampons or tampon applicators down the toilet" sign.

If only someone would have sent her the Hallmark Kissing Bears...This all could have been avoided.”

Yeah, I dunno.

Anyway, “Happy Valentines Day!”

I really don’t have much to say about the over-commercialized holiday. I like diamonds, and I like chocolate therefore, I like Valentines Day. It’s really that simple!

And for those of you lame-o’s who like to wear black on December 14th and complain about how you have nobody “special” to spend the day with, why don’t you look in the mirror. Maybe if you weren’t such a winy jerk you’d have someone to send you flowers and buy you nice over-priced trinkets.

Who can legitimately be sad on Valentines Day? You get candy, and even if you didn’t get any candy sent specifically to YOU, you can totally glom onto someone else’s Valentines Day moment.

“You’re not going to eat all of those Belgian truffles from"Joseph Schmidt you got in that lip-shaped box are you?” Of COURSE you aren’t…A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips! Gimme one.”

Free truffles people, all by guilting the receiver and throwing her into a little relapse of that eating disorder she had back in the twelfth grade. Who needs candy when you have OTHER PEOPLE’S CANDY?

Exactly.

I plan on spending my V-Day passing out Valentines candy to my clients, spreading Valentines cheer via chocolate wrapped in heart-printed cellophane each lovingly tied with pink and red curling ribbon. I spent two and a half hours last night and drank a half a bottle of wine trying to make it through without eating half the stash. I didn’t even have one piece.

Bravo.

So, I wish you all a Happy Valentines Day, make the most of it, put a smile on your face and enjoy it, damnit. It only comes once a year!

Jenni's Race Against the Odds. (Alternate Title: Tuna and Cheese; Why Here, Why Now?)

2007-02-06T17:00:00.000-06:00

Getting old; It’s inevitable. Some may say that the right way to age is to just give up and let nature take it’s course. I say that the second things start pointing south I’m filling them right back up with strategically implanted saline.

But enough about that, I’m not so much scared about the physical changes as much as the loss of independence and inevitable dependence that I will more than likely encounter as I make my way into a bona fide card-carrying AARP member.

Some of you may be thinking to yourself, “She can’t possibly be going thought a midlife crisis, she’s only 30!.” And you’re right! I hadn’t really given it much thought until a few weeks ago when I went to visit Josh’s Grandma in her “Senior Living” complex.

As I was riding the elevator up to the floor where she lives, I decided to entertain myself and Josh as I read aloud their weekly “Dinner Menu.”

Meatloaf, chicken, spaghetti, beef stew, “tuna loaf with cheese sauce…” Wait…”TUNA LOAF WITH CHEESE SAUCE?” Did I read that right? Tuna and CHEESE? Since when was it ever O.K. to smother FISH with CHEESE?

Is this where I’m going to find myself when I’m 89 years old…Trapped in some sort of dormitory for the elderly and forced to eat two things that CLEARLY should not be eaten on the same DAY let alone served on the same PLATE?

Because if it is, I’m out.

TUNA AND CHEESE SAUCE!??!

And I love how they try to hide the fact that they’re serving “tuna and cheese sauce” by throwing in some wild rice and buttered peas.

“Let’s see how we can mask the fact that the main dish is downright disgusting by throwing in some fancy rice and a bland vegetable, and then before you have a chance to complain about your train-wreck of a meal we will brain-wash you with our mesmerizing “Pound cake and berry sauce.”

“Damn right we will. Everything is better with pound cake and berry sauce.”

I was actually so shocked I had to take a picture with my camera phone of the actual menu that was posted in the elevator, just in case the “Tuna and Cheese Sauce” phenomenon was so unbelievable I would be written off as some sort of lunatic.

See. Even I can’t make this shit up.

An Exercise in Excuse: By Jenni

2007-02-04T10:34:00.000-06:00

I don’t even know where to begin. Seriously. It’s not like I’ve had some sort of life-altering event that has kept me away from my computer, and it’s not even that I’m not entirely interested in writing. It’s just that the thought of comprising my thoughts onto a page made my head hurt.

You know when you really want to do something, but the simple act of just starting it is painful enough to make you not even want to go there?

I could essentially stick my tail between my legs and write this off as a form of garden-variety laziness, but that's not me. Instead, I'm going to come up with an excuse.

Lately, I’ve turned all of my energy to a). My job and b).My health and well-being including but not limited to spending every chance I get in the gym at either a step class or a spin class. As a matter of fact, I believe I have become a tad bit compulsive about the whole deal and I’m going to now take the time to place the blame on this:

This, my friends is my Polar heart rate monitor/watch/and exercise diary all in one cute little pink wrist gadget. Not only does it give me an accurate count of where my heart rate is while I’m exercising, but it also stores each exercise in an electronic twelve-day diary that I can access at any given moment to see how many calories I’ve burned, the length of my exercise sessions, where my max and average heart rates were…blah…blah…blah…

O.K. I’m losing you here aren’t I? I know, the average person might find this mind-numbingly boring but I find it fascinating.

I am a dork.

A dork with a pink digital wrist watch.

Anyway, each exercise session gives you a little bar in the diary and well, I want more bars because more bars are good and the more bars I have the more calories I’ve burned and…Lost you again didn’t I?

O.K. Remember when you were in elementary school and your teacher had a tag-board with everyone’s names on it and every time you did something good you got a gold star by your name and the more stars you got the more shiny your row was and the more shiny your row was the more praise you got and the more praise you got the better you felt about yourself because at that moment you could visually see that you WERE better than that loser that sat behind you and put gum in your hair.

Whew.

I just wrote a run-on paragraph.

I need to get back to this blogging thing purely for technical purposes.

Anyway, that’s where I’m going with this. A childish obsession for digital bars has kept me from my blog.

Pure and simple.

It’s good to be back.

Happy New Year!

2007-01-01T15:34:00.000-06:00

Random Salad

2006-11-10T07:43:00.000-06:00

It's been a while.

Is it me or is the above photo extra creepy? I saw this picture on a Mcdonalds bag in the lunchroom at one of my dealerships. And I didn't know what was more creepy, the picture of Ronald in a Freddy Kruger-insipred basketball uniform, or the realization that after reading the receipt that was attached to the bag that someone had actually eaten four sausage breakfast burritos and a Coke for their morning meal. Eew.

I was sitting in the chair at the hair salon a few days ago waiting for my stylist when the receptionist came up to me and asked, "Were you ever Miss Minnesota?"
What? Was I "Miss Minnesota?" Seriously?
"Well, the lady that just left could have sworn that you were Miss Minnesota."

So, I told her that although I was never Miss Minnesota, if she asks my husband he'd tell her that I often act like Miss Universe.

VS

I'm not sure how I feel about the new James Bond. I mean, Daniel Craig will never be Pierce and Pierce will never be Sean...and althouh Roger Moore looked great as an action figure well, I'm just a little scared to see who will be the next James Bond...

Nahhhhhh...they wouldn't. Would they?

Security Level Is Orange (Alternate Title Ziploc Saves the World)

2006-10-26T15:12:00.000-05:00

So, I've been doing some traveling lately for my new job. Like my old office, my new office is also in Chicago which requires me to hop on an airplane once in a while to go in for training and the like.

Have you BEEN to the airport lately? I am assuming we have Al Queida laughing all the way to his cave as we have somehow let our TSA talk us and their representatives into believing that a Ziploc bag will somehow be the barrier that will prevent my hotel-sized hand lotion from blowing up an airplane.

Who knew?

ZIPLOC could be the answer to each and every threat upon the United States National Security as we know it. You thought they were only good for preserving your lunch? WRONG...Ziploc is also good for preserving your LIFE.

In other news, I've spent the last few weeks getting ready for my new job. The first week was spent at a Regional Sales conference in Lake Geneva, WI at the old playboy club. What a great place and what a grand time.

The last night there I was able to put to use years of show choir choreography and put together a dance and song that us "newbies" were required to perform in front of the whole region set to the tune of the 'YMCA" and "Rawhide."

I'll be the first to admit, getting five guys on the floor while ten girls rode them like horses and slapped their asses to the tune of rawhide was one of my most proud moments.

This is at a corporate banking event people....CORPORATE REPRESENTATIVES WERE RIDING THEIR PARTNERS LIKE BULLS AND SLAPPING THEM ON THEIR ASSES.

Which made me realize, if I can get people to do that, I can get them to do anything.

Shit, I'm trouble

A time for change.

2006-10-04T12:05:00.000-05:00

I wasn't planning on quitting my job, I mean I was conventionally happy where I was at. Sure, there may have been a few things I would have liked to change, but doesn't everyone want to change something about their job?

Anyway, the long of the short of it is I was recruited by a competitor of mine, a company that is revered as number one in the industry. (Rhymes with "Ray.Tee. Horgan Face) I went through a few interviews and it turned out that they offered me the job. I wasn't really shocked...I mean, not to sound conceded or anything but the interviews went REALLY well and I just kind of knew...you know? But the offer was one I could not refuse and I accepted.

But the REAL shocker didn't come until I actually quit my other job this past Monday. My boss was truly shocked. He didn't see it coming and I let him know that I didn't either. The day proceeded with a few phone calls here and there asking me the resons why I was leaving and how much I think their business will be affected by my departure. It wasn't until the last phone call that I realized I made the right decision.

I answered the phone again and it was my boss and the first thing out of his mouth was "So, are you REALLY gone?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Well, Frank is pretty upset that you're leaving."

Realizing that the Frank he is talking about just happens to be the Frank who is the President of Sales, I wondered to myself , why would Frank care? People quit all the time!

"Really? Why is that?"

"Well, you know you were the number one rep in the company the last two months in a row."

"WHAT? I was WHAT?"

I didn't even know I was the number one rep. How sad is THAT? Don't you usually get some sort of pat on the back when you're the number one rep? Way to go Jen! Here's a gift card to go have a nice dinner on us, or here's a little extra bonus for doing a great job! Or even just a little bit of f'in recognition!

But, no, nothing like that.

The sad part is, Steph who happens to do the same thing I do for the same company out in California knew and left me this really funny message when she found out I quit.

It went something like.

"...My first reaction when I heard you had quit was to laugh hystarically because a). They must have given you a great offer, and b). You had the balls to quit while you were on top.

And that last thing...Having the balls to quit when I was on top (even though I didn't know I was one top)...Well, that makes me smile.

Upload Schmupload

2006-09-18T07:48:00.000-05:00

So, I've been trying to upload a photo for a corresponding post since Friday and I am not having any luck.

Is anyone else having problems uploading photos or is it just me?

It would be typical if it were just me.

It's been about two weeks since my last post and I have no excuses.

Actually, I do.

I spent a long weekend in Laguna Beach, CA for a wedding.

Wasn't it BEAUTIFUL? I already miss the smell of the salt water.

OK, wait....I just downloaded THAT picture...Why can't I download the OTHER picture?

Anyway, on the Thursday night I was in Laguna, I went out with Stephand had such a great time, but I had the WORST hang over of my life the next day. I spent almost the whole day in a headache-laced stupor and I even had to exit the fun and festivities of the Groom's dinner early to collapse in my bed and fall asleep at 9:00 pm.

I know, LOSER!

But, the good news is that by the time of the wedding on Sunday I was back to my regular self as seen in the photo below with my mother-in-law and my brother-in-law's girlfriend, Erica.

Yeah, just SLIGHTLY loopy. Nuthin but class people, Nothing. But. Class.

Yesterday I went to the Metrodome and watched a great game between the Queens and the Panthers. 2 and 0 BABY! TWO AND ZERO!

Oh, and for all you Packer Fans out there...YOU GOT BEAT BY THE F'IN SAINTS....YOUR TEAM OFFICIALLY SUCKS ASS.

For those of who don't know where my frustration and animosity with the Green Bay Packers stems from...It stems from this.

Oh, and for all of my friends who were convinced that Dante was still the best quarter back since Joe Montana? YOU'RE WRONG BITCHES....HE STILL CAN'T HIT THE BROAD SIDE OF A BARN

Don't make me say "I told you so." Because I totally will.

I told you so.

200TH POST BITCHES!!!!!

2006-08-30T19:47:00.000-05:00

First of all, I believe everyone should have an Andy Warhol inspired photo of themselves. This one was taken yesterday and was modified with my kick ass windows garden variety photo editor tonight. I invite everyone to do this to one of their photos and post it on their blog.

Do it now.

You know you want to. ( I.marzipan, this includes you...I feel abandoned and all alone...sniff sniff)

Now, on with the business at hand...In order to commemorate the 200th post on Swank or Skank I thought about writing an opinion blog on something important. Something like the war in Iraq, world hunger, or whether or not I feel our President is doing his job. I realized there are so many important issues that I should be considering, perhaps dissecting, or analyzing and while I thought of this I reached for my lipgloss.

ThatÂs right LIPGLOSS.

Which made me stop. At that very moment in my car I was surrounded my EIGHT count them, EIGHT tubes of lipgloss in assorted colors, shine, and flavors.

When did my life spiral out of control and when did I become so dependent on lipgloss?

And it's not JUST lipgloss...It's chap stick too, or as I affectionately call it, "chappy." If I don't have a tube of chappy on my person at all times you might as well forget about it as I will become cranky and non-functioning.

It can't be just ANY chappy either. It has to be Burt's Bees chappy.

Before I was introduced to Burt's Bees it was Carmex, which I believe was the gateway chappy to my addiction. Carmex is evil. It has that cooling menthol feeling that I liken to a sort of crack-induced haze that can only be relieved with another application. It's waxy-evil in a palm-sized jar, that's what it is.

I even have a process for application.

First, I apply the chappy, wait at least one minute, and then I apply the lipgloss.

Without them I feel naked.

Which brings me to the EIGHT TUBES of lipgloss that have found their way in my car. The eight tubes that took prescedence over evey other uber-important world topic that could have occupied my mind at the time.

I think I have a problem.

Twelve step program perhaps?

A bucket full of beautiful sorry.

2006-08-26T11:35:00.000-05:00

He didn't get me flowers for our anniversary...Or a card for that matter...And I'll be the first to admit, I was upset. Not so much at the fact that he walked through the door empty handed...o.k. so it was totally at the fact that he walked through the door empty handed.

However, I soon got over it because (THREE DAYS LATER) not only did he buy me flowers, he bought me a BUCKET OF FLOWERS from the farmers market downtown, and a card that inside read, "Sorry for being a jackass...You make me a better person. You are the sweetest!"

That's right. He actually admitted he was being a jackass...In writing.

I love this.

In other news, I've lost 6 more pounds and am now fitting into my "skinny" jeans. Jeans I haven't been able to fit into for...Ahhhhh...Who am I kidding, I've NEVER been able to fit into these jeans until now. They're Abercrombie and Fitch ferchrissakes! They're not 30-year old jeans! They're pre-pubescent-I'm still in highschool and my metabolism is sky high therefore I can eat whatever the hell I want-jeans.

So, not only did my other half admit he was a jackass, he admitted it to me while I was wearing my skinny jeans.

Life is good.

Random Salad (Alternate Title:"No Mo Toothpaste In My Carry-on."

2006-08-11T07:06:00.000-05:00

Last night on the evening news the bulleted rundown that appeared on my televison screen before the first commercial break went something like this:

-Terror Threat Foiled
-Heightened Terror Alert
-Passengers Left Waiting
-Aniston/Vaughn Engaged?
-Man Shot in Northeast Minneapolis waiting for Bus.

Seriously? The state of Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn’s relationship is more important than the poor guy gunned down at the bus stop? Really? I mean, I know being shot in Northeast has become a regular occourance lately, but COME ON! I suppose the director also had to play with whether to put that or the terror thing on first, because I know not being able to fly with lipgloss or toothpaste in my carry-on should totally be second to a Hollywood engagement…but maybe that’s just me.

Also, while sitting in traffic I saw an interesting homemade license plate cover on a navy blue Dodge Durango that read : “Geo. W. Suck’s.”

Have I been using the comma wrong when it comes to the word “sucks” all these years? Should it REALLY be “suck’s” or “sucks?” I suppose it depends on how you use the word “sucks.” But really, even if you use it correctly it should still be “sucks” because if it’s not used correctly and you’re writing it and somehow all of a sudden you become concerned about the English Language and grammer? Well, you have issues.

Speaking of having issues ( like needing glasses or a new pair of contact lenses) one of my finance managers told me that I was “The most beautiful bank rep that comes into his dealership” which totally made my day because I THOUGHT I was having a bad hair day…turns out it wasn’t so bad after all.

I hope everyone has a great weekend…enjoy the summer while it’s still here to enjoy!
Peace.

BMW:1 Wild Game: 0

2006-08-01T07:18:00.000-05:00

Sunday while driving home from my sister’s lake home I killed what appeared to be a pheasant. No, NOT peasant…PHEASANT, like in BIRD, DUCK, WHATTHEFUCKEVER. I felt really bad and it appears my stint at being the Animal Whisperer is now officially over. I was actually following my niece and her husband, who were driving in front of me and managed to miss the whole flock of pheasants, but have no fear…I took care of that last one, or should I say, the blow from the windshield of my speeding automobile took care of that last one.

Now, for those of you who have been reading my blog, you’re probably asking yourself “BMW?” What the hell happened to The Rollerskate. Don’t panic. I still have The Rollerskate, but just a few short months ago there was a purchase of a used BMW X5 at the Jenni household for more cargo capacity and to also aid in polluting this great planet of ours. Global warming, global schwarming…fill me up with $65 worth of premium and let me do my work.

Oh, I should also mention that about 7 hours prior to the gruesome pheasant massacre I was given a speeding ticket while PASSING A DEPUTY going 75 in a 55 all while trying to show my 70-year-old mother how to use her cell phone.

Yup.

In my defense he was driving an unmarked navy Trailblazer and going WAY too slow.

Lucky for me he was kind enough to write the ticket down to 65 miles per hour, just 10 miles above the speed limit to not only save me some cash, but also to protect me from something along the lines of reckless driving. Which brings me to this question:

Why do they call it reckless driving when clearly you are capable of wrecking SO MUCH MORE when driving under it's definition?

Reckless is neither "WRECK" nor "LESS." Discuss.

As a matter of fact, I am thinking of taking this to court...can I enter the insanity plea as a defense for my speeding ticket? In all fairness I WAS trapped in a vehicle with my 70-year-old mother and her CELL PHONE ferchrissakes.

Seriously. Let me present "Exhibit A" and let you be the judge.

EXHIBIT A:
The actual conversation that occurred moments prior to the citation. I will be played by Reece Witherspoon and my mom by Phyliss Diller.

(Phone rings in backseat)
Mom: What's that noise?
Me: It sounds like your phone.
Mom: Well, how do you know it's not your phone?
Me: Because that's not my ringtone.
Mom: (Pause) What?
Me: Nevermind. It's your phone.
Mom: (Unbuckles seatbelt and reaches back for her purse, rumages through purse and finally takes out cell phone) A-HA! But it stopped ringing. How do I find out who called?
Me: Open it up and the number should still be there.
Mom: (Opens cell phone, covers cell phone with hand and trys to read the numbers from every feasable angle) 555-6778. Does that number ring a bell?
Me: Ah, no.
Mom: Well, I wonder who that could be? Remember the number 555-6778, 555-6778. Can you remember that and tell it back to me when I'm ready to dial? Because there's no way I can remember that.
Me: Sure, but if you just push the talk button twice it should call it back for you.
Mom: What?
Me: Nevermind. 555-6778.
Mom: HOLD ON! How do I get this number off the phone.
Me: Push the "End" button twice and it will clear it off. Just remember, whenever you're in doubt, always push the "End" button twice.
Mom: IT'S GONE!
Me: Right, now it's 555-6778.
Mom: SLOW DOWN! 5.5.5.
Me: 6778
Mom: 6.7.7.8 (pauses) It's saying it doesn't recognize the number. Maybe I dialed it wrong. 5.5.5.6.7.7.8.
Me: (Speeds the car up a little more)
Mom: NOW I CAN'T GET IT TO DIAL...WHY WON'T IT DIAL?
Me: (grabs the phone out of her hand and dials the number, hands her back the phone) There, now is it ringing?
Mom: (Screaming into the phone) HELLO? HELLO? DID YOU CALL ME? (pause) THIS IS JOAN...DID YOU CALL ME? (pause) WHO? WHO ARE YOU? (turns to look at me and adresses me) I can't hear them...I can't understand them...They said something about Stan...who is STAN? How do you turn up the volume? (Screaming back into the phone) HELLO? WHO? THIS IS JOAN.
Me: (Speeds up the car and passes blue Chevrolet Trailblazer in an effort to escape from the trainwreck that is happening between my mother and her cell phone.)
Mom, it could be the wrong number...you should just hang up.
Mom: (Pause gives me a blank stare)
Me: (grabbing the phone from her) Seriously. Hang. Up. The. Phone.
(glances into the rearview mirror and sees that the 5-0 is on to me) Shit.

So, what do you think? Insanity plea?

I'm still alive...

2006-07-28T07:49:00.000-05:00

I plan on refraining from writing about the imaginary pair of testicles that I do not have (see last post) however, if I did have a pair now would be the time to use them.

Things in my world have been Crazy (Yes, with a "Capital C"). You see we have this new program at work that has taken off like wildfire and has kept me extremely busy with phone calls day and night and visiting clients throughout the state of MN in 100 degree heat that has left me, well, exhausted.

I'm tired. Period. Actually, my sister bought me this awesome deep tissue massage that is calling my name, but I don't have time to get it done. It's like it's at my finger tips, just out of my reach. So frustrating.

To add insult to injury I have to work tomorrow. Albeit at home buying deals, it's still work and takes a HUGE chunk out of what should be my well-earned two-day weekend and turns it into a day and a half weekend. Blah.

I shouldn't complain. I'll stop complaining. I'm doing really well and getting paid equally as well for all my hard work, I just wish sometimes these things would come easier. You know?

GO TWINS!

That's all.

Consumerism: It’s got me by the balls.

2006-07-20T17:40:00.000-05:00

Figuratively speaking of course, that’s if I had them…balls that is. I recently fell into Best Buy’s 0% financing for 18 months scheme, and used it to buy myself a nice 32 inch Samsung LCD HGTV. Now keep in mind, I tend to shy away from purchasing things with acronyms, and things that are electronic and have acronyms…MULTIPLE ACRYNOMS…well, they just scare the hell out of me.

I went in with good intentions to spend only $1600 on a television that would not only allow me to view my favorite programs in a new light, but also to help me save space. However, I left spending just over two grand on the tv and it’s “accessories” like a wall mount, high-definition “Monster Cable”, and four-year in home warranty (note: you can ALWAYS sell a salesperson).

Now you may ask, “Was it worth it?”

HELL YEA IT WAS WORTH IT!

Not only can I see every blemish on my favorite nightly newscaster, but I saved myself a TON of space where my old television sat.

I’ll be the first to admit I was feeling a teeeennnyyy bit guilty as I was in my car waiting for the salesperson to bring it outside. I mean, I have ZERO credit card debt and like to pay for things in cash. Actually, the conversation between Josh and I went something like this:

Je(Jenni): Wow, Two-thousand dollars for a TV.
Jo(Josh): Yeah, wow.
Je: But I DID get 10% off the TV, and 20% off the cable, and the wall mount was only like $125.
Jo: Yeah.
Je: And the warranty is really a must have…I mean, you HAVE to have one with everything that can go wrong with the thing.
Jo: Yeah.
Je: And 0% for eighteen months! Shit! They’re practically GIVING it away!
Jo: (Pause) Totally.

That’s my reasoning…”They’re practically giving it away.”

Shut up. My reasoning is working, the television is mounted, the cables are buried behind the wall, and there’s no turning back.

Yup, got me by the balls….er….whatever, you know what I mean.

Knitting: Because That's How I Roll.

2006-07-13T18:36:00.000-05:00

EXHIBIT A:

So, as you all know from reading my last post, I learned how to knit. I know what you’re all thinking, you’re thinking, “Wow, not only can she compose a Top Ten List to beat the band, but she can also knit…this chick is AMAZING.” And of course you’re right. However, I have found that knitting has become a tad bit addicting, not addicting to the point where I need to have my knitting needles by my side 24/7, but addicting to the point where when I sit down with them in my hand…well…it’s kinda hard to stop.

You see, once you get the logistics down, knitting is pretty mindless. You can just sit there and allow your mind to go blank as you fashion a scarf (see "Exhibit A"), bag, potholder, or hat. So, not only is it like doing nothing, it’s like doing nothing while actually getting something done.

This comes in especially handy at the end of a busy day. I work in an industry where I have to be quick witted and overcome objections on a daily basis, if I can’t do that I’ll get eaten alive, therefore, from 8:00 to 6:00 my mind is typically running a mile a minute and to be able to come home, and just shut down is welcome. Very welcome.

So, I invite you all to give it a try. It’s harmless and only semi addicting. Come on. Everyone’s doing it. Seriously. You know you want to.

(Yes, I know it's 93 degrees outside and I'm wearing a scarf in the above photo, however I am not wearing the scarf on a regular basis, this was just for modeling purposes...and for days like this)

The Top Ten Things I Learned At The Cabin July 4th Weekend 2006

2006-07-05T20:50:00.000-05:00

After much anticipation....

10). It is possible to fit 10 (drunk) adults in a Mercury Villager. (I didn't say it was SAFE, I said it was possible.)

9). When you want to dance on the bar, at a bar in Northern Wisconsin, don't ask...Just do it.

8). Watching your friend walk up the stairs when they can't see (thanks to the half a handle of Captain Morgan they just drank) and not helping them isn't nice. It's funny, but not nice.

7). When you're sleeping in a tent with someone who snores when they're drunk make sure you drank enough to pass out too. If you don't, nailing them repeatedly in the arm with a closed fist will get you nowhere. Neither will slapping them in the face...Or punching them in the stomach.

6). Having a 45-minute conversation about politics while naked and skinny dipping with your friend's husband is totally socially acceptable.

5). So is burning your bra.

4). Heckling the person who is lighting off a major fireworks display will get you nowhere.

3). When you're on a three-day bender take a break from the sauce and learn how to knit. It would make Grandma proud.

2). Even when you pass up the opportunity to steal a cement pigeon from a bar, the chances of that pigeon ending up in your lawn as an ornament upon returning home are high.

1). The sound of a lone loon on a quite lake at 3 A.M. is quite possibly the most beautiful sound in the entire world.

Happy Birthday USA!

2006-06-30T07:44:00.000-05:00

Ahhhhh…it’s Friday. The start to a long holiday weekend…and as I get ready to head up to the cabin tomorrow, I’ve decided to reflect upon my last years trip and re-post my top ten list from the Fourth of July weekend 2005.

I hope you all have a safe and happy Fourth of July, be proud of our Troops and contractors (Barry ;) ) that are overseas fighting for our freedom, and the freedom of others. Include them in your thoughts and prayers as you spend time with family and friends.

The Top Ten Things I Learned this Weekend At the Cabin. (July 2005)

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). Chances are if you jump into the lake with your sunglasses on, they will not still be on your head when you surface. The likelihood of them disappearing into the depths of the lake increase significantly when said sunglasses retail for over $150.

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.

(Stay tuned for Jenni’s Fourth of July 2006 Top Ten List.)

D'OH!

2006-06-28T17:23:00.000-05:00

Man Arrested for DUI on lawnmower

ST. CLOUD, Minn. (AP) - A St. Cloud man has been arrested for allegedly driving while intoxicated - on a riding lawnmower.

St. Cloud Police said they got a call just before 11 p.m. Tuesday of a severely intoxicated man driving a riding lawnmower through several neighbors' yards, and up and down the street.

Police said they found Karl Benjamin Thompson passed out on his lawnmower in a neighbor's driveway.

The 24-year-old registered a blood alcohol level of 0.23 percent, nearly triple the legal limit of 0.08, police said.

He's being held on second-degree DWI charges, and police seized his lawnmower due to prior DWI convictions.

Although this very well could have been me during a three-day bender at the cabin, I find it extremely hilarious.

The best part is that the police actually seized this guy's lawnmower.

Welcome to Northern Minnesota.

2006-06-28T15:06:00.000-05:00

CAPTION TIME!

2006-06-26T19:13:00.000-05:00

(1). And that was the first and last time Duane was invited to participate in Northern Wisconsin's Wood Carving Benefit for Battered and Abused Women.
However, his giant hoo-ha was purchased by a "M Jackson" for an undisclosed amount of money and appropriately placed next to the petting zoo at Neverland Ranch.

(2). Lisp and tendency to wear women's underwear aside, with just a few strokes of a chainsaw, Carl Manages to validate each and every suspicion that he is in fact a flaming homosexual.

Got a caption? Leave it in the comments!

I'm Sorry

2006-06-21T08:30:00.000-05:00

To the lady at my 6:00 Step class. I’m sorry you have no rhythm. I’m sorry that you can’t keep the beat like the rest of the class, even like the 55-year old Chinese lady that stands behind you can. And when I look in the mirror back in your direction as you violently flail your arms around in what looks like a seizure instead of a form exercise, and crack a smile, I hope you realize that I’m smiling because you look ridiculous. I’m sorry.

To the creepy salesman at one of my dealerships. I’m sorry you creep me out. I’m sorry that when you see me walk through the door you run to me, touch my arm and tell me how good it is to see me, or when I’m sitting in my Finance Managers office and you come in and rub my back and simply say “Hello” how it makes me want to jump out of my skin and hide. It’s not me, really, it’s you. I’m sorry.

To the bag boy at the grocery store. I’m sorry your job sucks. I’m sorry the whole bane of your existence revolves around the question “Paper, or Plastic?” I’m sorry that it’s too much to remember not to put the eggs on the bottom of the bag under the pineapple and carton of soy milk most probably because you were in the back with the other bag boys sniffing the nitrous oxide out of the Eazy Cheeze cans. I’m sorry you’re an idiot.

To the Jackoff in the SUV that almost ran me off the road yesterday. I know your car is HUGE and mine is small. I know you were talking on your phone and most probably didn’t see me to your left as you merged onto the freeway as you made your Tee-time or were talking to your wife who was out buying steaks for dinner. And when you waived at me in apology after realizing that you almost killed me and I flicked you off, I meant it. Asshole.

Airport Stories (Alternate Title: Jenni's Takes A Stab At Racial Profiling.)

2006-06-16T08:16:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I had a day trip to Chicago that consisted of flying there early and flying back late. Completely uneventful and totally exhausting. As a matter of fact, to let you all know how uneventful it actually was, the highlight was seeing Jesse Jackson escorted through security while I was standing in line with the rest of the “common folk” waiting to be poked, prodded, and felt up like cattle being led off to slaughter.

I hate airports, and I loathe flying, which I think has everything to do with being suspended twenty-seven thousand feet in the air in a machine with breakable parts and mechanics that are more than likely on strike, or at least preparing to go on strike. So, when I finally made it through security I immediately headed for the bar, which I soon found out is where everyone else went. There were lines outside each bar that stretched for a good city block, all for what I assumed to be a little liquid relaxation

I passed up a few offers to join some tables and decided to hit the convenience shop for some eight-dollar eye drops and Chex Mix to tide me over while I sat at the gate, hid myself from the rest of the world, cozied up in the corner with my book, “The Devil Wears Prada”, and tried to forget where I actually was, which did work, for about 45 seconds.

The flight that was supposed to have taken off from the gate my flight was landing at hadn’t, and had been sitting there for about 45 minutes while the mechanics were fixing something, so my flight was moved a few gates down from B9 to B4.

I gathered up my things and made the trek down to my new gate passing a bar that had since cleared from the swarms of people that had earlier occupied it. Finding myself a seat next to a modern day hippie reading some vintage Jane Eyre, I ordered a glass of red wine and zoned out. It didn’t take me long to realize that no one at this bar was smiling, they all ordered their beers, and cocktails and sat there, staring at the television that was broadcasting CNN which was covering a story on Al Queida.

Seriously, though, CNN? In an AIRPORT? They might as well just show footage of the two commercial aircraft flying into the World Trade Center again…just to refresh our memories. Why don’t they broadcast something fun and lighthearted, like “Sponge Bob Square Pants”, or “Good Times?”

15 minutes to board. I finished my glass and headed for the gate, which was packed. I positioned myself behind the last row of seats, set down my computer case and did something I do every time I step foot on an aircraft…I scanned the crowd.

First, I do the natural thing and look for all the people of Middle-eastern descent. Shut-up, you know you do it too. If I see more than four of them I get a little nervous. In this instance there were only two or three, one I couldn’t really tell if he was middle-eastern or just really tan. They didn’t appear to pose much of a threat, at least not enough for a bomb…maybe a little C4 in the shoe, but definitely not a bomb.

I glance to my right to see what appears to be an escapee wearing a dingy green t-shirt, jeans, combat boots, and prison tattoos that cover both arms and part of his neck. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Charles Manson and is staring directly at me. I forego the possibility of using the bathroom for fear of ending up in pieces in the duffel bag he has resting at his feet.

Next, I look for the huge black dudes to counter-act the Muslims. You know, the ones that are at lest six foot five and weigh over three bills, which is ironic because if I were to seek them out in a dark alley I would most probably be frightened, but on an airplane they’re my best friends. I see one of them and he’s collapsed on the floor taking a nap.

Now it’s time to find the kids and pray to GOD that they are not sitting next to me. I see a family of five with three kids ranging in age from five to nine and watch in horror as they polish off a four-pound bag of gummy bears.

And finally, the geriatrics. It is here I look for the man, at least 50+ years old with the beer gut and cholesterol that is higher than Lindsey Lohan on a Friday night. I see him directly in front of me shoving the last fistful of his BK “Meatwhich” into his mouth as I calculate the possibility of having to do an emergency landing in Milwaukee in the event that the very last pinhole of his heavily clogged artery is finally closed for good. After he’s able to breathe again, he wipes the sweat from his brow, washes the meaty mass down with a chocolate shake and opens a Snickers. Shit. I’m screwed.

Loogies And Plaster.

2006-06-12T07:47:00.000-05:00

There was no loogie in the drinking fountain this morning, at the gym, of which I am extremely thankful. Last Monday before my 5:45 am. “Step/Sculpt” class I went to get a drink of water only to come face to face with this slimy, disgusting loogie that was lodged in the drain of the drinking fountain which sent my irrefutable bad mood into a winding tail-spin that only got worse throughout the day. Seriously. I had to take half the day as a mental health day after telling one of my clients that I felt like “ripping out all of my hair and setting it on fire in the middle of my living room.”

Which coincidentally is how I felt Friday night. Do you know what this is?

THAT, my friends, is hell in a bucket. Please take note that in the instruction for application it does not give you fair warning that you are about to spend four hours of you life in pure, excruciating plaster hell, and that prior to application you should have already gone to the liquor store to equip yourself with enough booze to keep your mind and body numb during the process.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my house, but you see, my house is a bungalow that was built in 1925, therefore it has plaster walls that are, well, 81 years old and crumbling. The downstairs walls are in relatively good shape, but it’s the upstairs walls that need help, top that with eighteen layers of wallpaper and the unevenness of it all is enough to make you mad. So, instead of just doing what every other sane person would have done and thrown another layer of wallpaper over it, called it a day and enjoyed their Friday evening, I choose to go with “Option b.”

At first I thought, this isn’t SO bad, it’s a little tedious, but can definitely be done. About ten minutes into it I realized that I’m not even close to being done and if I keep this up at a consistent speed I won’t be done for another, what, FOUR HOURS. I walked downstairs, opened a bottle of wine, and took a huge swig...directly from the bottle.

If you would have come over to my house halfway through the process you would have found me swearing as I rolled this shit on, trying to avoid getting the sloppy mess all over my molding and hardwood floors. It was all over my arms, on my face, in my hair…I looked like the abominable snowman with some sort of skin condition. It was pathetic.

And speaking of pathetic, towards the end I was literally sobbing, cursing the good folks at Behr paint and their product that I was convinced had to be the spawn of Satan as I sat in the upstairs hallway surrounded by my own personal hell.

There is a bright side, despite the pain I endured I did do a pretty good job and it looks much better than it did when I started, however, I swore that I would NEVER, EVER do that to myself again. And I won’t. Ever. Again.

Insensitive Pricks...Funny Insensitive Pricks.

2006-06-06T08:05:00.000-05:00

This morning I was over at The Dump reading about how the Belligerent Intellectual wore his Analrapist shirt to his sister's 16th birthday party and how he regretted it after he was eyed down by numerous people with looks of complete disgust. He thought it was funny, I think it's funny, but apparently the world is not as funny as he or I.

Which brings me to a similar situation I encountered while up at the cabin this past Memorial Day. I was wearing this t-shirt.

This t-shirt cracks me up. I bought it from this site, that has oodles of sweet and equally funny t-shirts, including, but not limited to the other one I bought..

My friends actually made me turn it inside out...Can you believe that? You see, wearing this t-shirt in the city, and wearing it up in Northern Wisconsin where the Native American population at the bar (where incidentally we were heading) is FAR more prevalent...Wait...I didn't mean to make it sound like that. Ummm...There are more Native Americans at the bar up in Wisconsin than in Minneapolis? No? Not better? Damnit.

Well, without throwing out any unnecessary stereotypes I'll just say that before we entered the bar to sing karaoke and ensue with our garden variety tom foolery, my friends made me turn my shirt inside-out in an attempt to avoid offending "anyone." Which I did...While it was dark outside...With the light on INSIDE THE CAR so EVERYONE IN THE BAR COULD SEE MY BOOBS...Since we were parked in the front row directly in front of the large window. I was wearing a bra, but still...I got a few whistles upon entering, which I immediately blew off because, well, I was already a little tipsy.

So, to get down to why I'm writing about this, I would really like your opinion. I don't think the t-shirt is offensive...Am I totally insensitive and just plain wrong? It's just a play on words...Right?

Air Guitar...Happens?

2006-06-01T18:37:00.000-05:00

Tonight marks a special event in the history of Minneapolis. No, the president is not coming to town, NO, Lindsey Lohan is not shooting another movie...what's going on is FAR bigger.

It's the Regional 2006 US Air Guitar Championship and it's being held right here in my home city. TONIGHT!
(2005 US Air Guitar Champion Fatima "Rockness Monster"Hoang)

You thought YOUR city was something to brag about? PHSSSSSST. You ain't got nothing on this.

What boggles my mind is that there's actually a competition for this. So, instead of just jamming out in my underwear in the living room to some sweet guitar solo by Eddie Van Halen, I could be on stage, in front of, what, TENS of people doing it for PRAISE AND DISTINCTION?

I needed to know more, so I visited their website and found this under the heading "Why Air Guitar?"

Whatever the reason, air guitar is so ingrained in the fabric of American life that it has become an almost instinctual response. Play the right riff and for many of us, air guitar simply happens.

Air Guitar Happens. I can see the t-shirts and bumper stickers now. Don't even think about stealing this gold-mine from my money grubbing grasp. It's all mine.

Some see air guitar as musical self-expression, others as competitive sport, and other still, as a form of performance art.

(?) I see air guitar as an opportunity to get waisted at a bar, get up on stage and make a complete fool our of yourself infront of a live audience.

In a time when US military and economic leadership faces unprecedented criticism around the world, it is our belief that air guitar represents the one field of human endeavor that our country can dominate without controversy. The US Air Guitar Championships is here to make this possible.

We don't need PATRIOTISM, we don't need JOBS, or NATIONAL SECURITY, we just need AIR GUITAR!

I HAVE BEEN MISSING OUT PEOPLE! I have been cheated out of what could have been my only claim to fame! The claim to fame that although would definitely place me within the trailer park crowd, would launch me into Air Guitar fame that is rightfully mine.

Eeh, maybe next year.

It's a BIRD! No...It's a PLANE! No....IT'S...WTF?...Shit, I really don't know what the hell that is.

2006-05-31T08:15:00.000-05:00

I practically live out of my car on a daily basis, driving around from client to client I have come to know the Twin Cities Metro area like the back of my hand, knowing each and every shortcut. That being said, I have seen and driven by some pretty weird shit. Like yesterday when I was stuck in standstill traffic on 694 because a “Biffy” truck had flipped into the ditch and caused a MAJOR mess. Gah.

However, nothing quite compares to this:

(Note the semi-truck in the background as a marker for actual size)

I have driven by this God-awful statue that stands at the entrance of a trucking company at least every other month for about four years and every time I catch myself saying out loud “What the fuck?” Sometimes I make myself turn my head and pretend it’s not there, but it’s too hard, like when the Biffy truck was in the ditch…you don’t want to look, but you just can’t stop yourself.

When I actually pulled off the road and onto the shoulder to take this picture I was contemplating going inside and asking the owner why he felt the need to erect a three story high statue of what appears to be a little boy in his shorts holding a truck. But then I decided I probably would rather not know, and the possibility of coming face to face with such a man was…well…frightening.

Now, I may have to endure the viewing of this thing 5 to 6 times a year max, but the real losers in this situation are the people that live across the field with full view of this monstrosity. Can you imagine waking up every morning, looking out of your large beautiful windows that cover the entire side of your house and stare directly at THAT? Seriously, if it were me and I lived there it would probably take me a total of 3-6 hours before I snapped and was found with an axe swinging madly at it’s ankles in an attempt to ground the fucker.

But that’s just me.

Cabin Memories (Alternate Title: Random Drunk Story Number 1)

2006-05-25T07:27:00.000-05:00

This weekend I'm heading up to the cabin in search of relaxation and fun. In honor of this event I have decided to repost one of my most embarrassing/drunk/dangerous moments that took place at the cabin Labor Day of 2004. Enjoy!

Riding Lawnmowers and Beer; A Really Bad Idea. (Posted May of 2005)

Have you ever realized that your best ideas come to surface when you've been drinking? Such an idea surfaced last Labor Day while at my friend's parents cabin for the weekend.

We decided to clean out the shed (which is actually really cool with screened windows and wooden screened door), and turn it into the "Ultimate Tiki Bar." In order to do so we had to remove the two riding lawnmowers and park them next to the garage where the other riding lawnmower resides. So, after the tiki bar was established and more drinks were consumed someone mentioned how cool it would be if we were to have lawnmower races. At the time I thought it was most probably the best idea I have ever heard. At least the best idea since about 5 minutes earlier when we did the whole put your head on the baseball bat thing and spin around ten times and then run. Which Josh did and ran smack dab into the side of the tiki bar...Ouch, but still, I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.

So the lawnmower races ensued, there was a track, and finish line, and I even started the race standing between two of the lawnmowers in a dramatic rendition of Cha Cha's race starting moves in the movie Greece. The races went off without a hitch and the real drama didn't begin until Chrissy and I decided to take two of the lawnmowers down to the store to get ice.

To set the scene, their driveway down to the cabin is really long and the total trip to the store and back is just under a half a mile each way. Usually, the road is empty, however since it was Labor Day the resort next door was packed from the "turtle races" and there were cars lined all the way down the road on one side. I was on the older lawnmower and watched as Chrissy's step dad Pat started it for me. He lifted the hood and pulled the cord and it just started, that's all I saw. All he said was that the rabbit makes it go faster and the turtle slows it down. Simple right? Wrong.

We made it up the driveway and Chrissy was ahead of me, naturally I wanted to go faster, because fast is a good idea on a riding lawnmower when you've been drinking. I was messing with some levers and ended up stalling it. Chrissy kept going while turning around to see what I was doing. After watching Pat start it I flipped up the hood and pulled the cord. Nothing. Pulled it again. Nothing. This time I took all my energy and violently pulled the cord and watched in awe as the lawnmower sped across the road and slammed itself into the tire of a 4 door sedan of which I refuse to name for legal reasons. It was at that point I realized that I forgot to put the mower into neutral.

Chrissy turns around to see me run across the road and try to pull the girating lawnmower off the vehicle as it is viciously ramming itself over and over again into the side of the car and caught under the body above the wheel. Laughing hysterically with tears in her eyes she managed to come over and assist in turning off the lawnmower while we both pulled it off the car in front of us.

Surprisingly, there was no damage to the car. If the mower would have been a little to the left, or a little to the right we would have been screwed. Plus, no one was around to witness the disaster and except for a few scratches under the wheel rim on the backside of the body everything was fine, except for the lawnmower, which had definitely seen better days. The hood was brutally dented in and we were unable to latch it, not to mention I was in shock and my mind was going a mile a minute to try and think of a story to cover our tracks.

We quickly assesd the situation, and decided that there needed to be a cover. There was no WAY we were going to tell ANYONE that I had just caused the lawnmower to crash into someones car and then leave the scene of the accident. So we lied.

While driving back down to the cabin we thought up a story to tell everyone that I had hit a tree. As we arrived, we were ironically showered by our friend Ian who ran towards us shaking up two cans of beer and spraying us with them...shotgun style. We were able to coax him into bending the hood of the lawnmower back to its original (sort of) state and explain what happened only to the tree, not the car.

Later that night while sitting in the tiki bar the truth came out and everyone learned what had happened. I was really embarrassed, but now thinking back it makes me laugh. Hysterically.

So here's to riding lawnmowers and alcohol, only one of many of my really bad ideas

My Life On Backorder

2006-05-23T07:44:00.000-05:00

It seemed as though nothing was going my way. I mean, being an individual of instant gratification (which includes, but is not limited to having the patience of a six-year-old) it makes waiting for things…well COMPLETELY unbearable.

The beginning of last month I ordered a pair of outdoor drapes from Pottery Barn for the pergola that covers part of my deck.

Aren’t they charming?

Anyway, when I ordered them online there was a notation in red that read, “This item will not be available until after May 5th.” Naturally I was hesitant because, waiting three weeks for something is NOT in my nature. But I ordered them and waited…and waited….and eventually the second week in May I called the customer service line searching for my purchase.

“Oh, well, we’re expecting another shipment in on the 18th.”

“Great! Can you check to see if I’m in that shipment, Thanks.”

“Well….it’s more complicated than that because there’s a list.”

“O.K., how long is this list?”

“Well…there’s 400 orders on this list.”

Little did I know that outdoor curtains from Pottery Barn would be in such high-demand. So I decided to wait and call back the next week.

“Yeah, apparently you weren’t on the list for that shipment, let me check with my manager and see if you’ll be on the next list.”

“Thanks” (Listens to jazzy Pottery Barn Music while on hold. Dances a little in the living room, perfects the “mambo” while incorporating a little “ball change.” Thank God for cordless phones.”

“Hello? Yeah, looks like you’re on the next list, they should be there before June 1st. It looks like you have another order here, would you like me to check on this one also?”

Yeah, it seemed that the whole “backorder” thing has become addictive because while perusing the Pottery Barn catalogue I came across this really cute star clip light-bulb cover that would go PERFECT in my upstairs hallway.

So sassy.

Anyway, I HAD to have it and when the same backorder message came up I shrugged my shoulders and ordered it anyway. Looks like the Pottery Barn School of Backorder did a little work on my tolerance.

That is until I recently ordered a pair of Dansko’s from the shoe shop in my neighborhood.

Look how cute! RED shoes! I’m a veritable effin Dorothy over here!

Anyway, they were out of my size so I had them place an order for me. The lady said it would be five to ten days and although two weeks seemed like an awfully long time for me to be able to tap my heels together and wish for home, I agreed and place the order.

So, yesterday, since it had been EIGHT days, I called to check on my order and the guy that answered the phone said “Oh, yes! Well, these shoes are on backorder until June 26th.”

“June 26th! Sweet Jesus! I’ll never get home!”

“What? Do you want to still keep the order?”

“Sure. But is there anyway you could get them faster? Like tomorrow?”

“Sorry.”

“Fine. Thanks anyway.”

So there you have it. Everything in my life is on backorder. But the good news is while I was typing this I received a shipment conformation from Pottery Barn and my drapes have been sent! So, at least I can look forward to that.

It’ll be like Christmas…only not.
Oh well.

Sign Savy

2006-05-22T07:15:00.000-05:00

I hate it when people post dumb signs that tell you to do or not do the obvious. Like the tampon sign that's always hanging in the bathroom to remind us Laides not to flush our tampons or tampon applicators down the toilet.
The following is a sign I happened upon while visiting the Ladies room at one of my dealerships.

What this sign should read:

Congratulations! You’re a FREAKING retard! Even more so if you are able to read this sign and lack the common sense to figure out how to lock and unlock this door.
How do you make it through life? Please press the large red button on the wall to the left of you (your other left) and wait for the large man in the yellow short bus to come and take you back to the first grade where you can associate with people of similar intelligence and door locking and unlocking know-how.

Dumbass.

Dr. Effin Doolittle

2006-05-19T08:17:00.000-05:00

I really don’t know if I give off some sort of “vibe” for lost animals, but they always seem to find their way to me.

Last week it was the blue parakeet that landed on my patio furniture, and this week it was the limping geriatric canine.

I was relaxing on the sofa after a long days work when Lola began barking at whatever was outside the window. I told her to be quiet, but she would just look at me and continue on with her barking…which is REALLY annoying. So, I got up and looked out the window only to see this poor old dog limping down the street, I watched it for a little while, thinking maybe its owner was somewhere around, but no such luck. So I ran down the block to catch him.

Isn't he sweet?

I think he has arthritis, either that or a broken foot as it was looking a little deformed, although he didn’t appear to be in too much pain. He was wearing a collar that read “All American Dog” but unfortunately, didn’t have any tags so I brought him into the backyard and gave him some water, which he quickly drank.

I ended up introducing him to Lola and they became fast friends. I summoned one of my neighbors to come over and take a look to see if he recognized my new little friend, but no such luck. I even sat on the front steps with him on a leash hoping that someone would come by looking for him. He appeard to be well taken care of, someone HAD to be missing him, right?

Anyway, I ended up calling Animal Control to have him picked up…I didn’t know if his foot really was broken and I didn’t want to risk it. This really nice lady came to get him and said they will keep him there for seven days and if nobody claims him they will put him up for adoption.

This is where my eyes well up with tears thinking of my new friend familyless in a kennel somewhere. I couldn’t bear to think that no one would claim this dog…makes me so sad just thinking about it. So, I’m afraid if this guy doesn’t find his home, or “a” home for that matter I’ll end up with another dog. It kills me to think that he may spend the rest of his life, however long that may be, in a cage. I can’t have this hanging over my head…damnit!
Somebody please say something to make me feel better…PLEASE!

And now....On with The Toilet Monster

2006-05-18T07:28:00.000-05:00

My sister voted for Bush…I know, sad. Ever since then, I haven’t let her forget it. I buy her stupid Bush things and then have them sent to her house with notes attached like “Hey, you brought this on yourself.” Like the time I sent her the book of “Bushisms.”

More recently I was surfing the net and found “The Farting Bush Doll” here. I HAD to have it, and I HAD to have it shipped to my sister with an enclosed card that read. “Here’s your President, busy stinking up the whole damn country. Nice Job.”

Anyway, you pull his finger and he says things like “(Farts loudly)That’s what I call the flatulation proclamation.” And “(Farts loudly) America, I just S*!t in my pants.” It’s great.

Oh, the Toilet Monster…ANYWAY, ever since I bought the Farting Bush I get a newsletter via email from The Prank Place, and the other day they sent one titled "The Toilet Monster is on the loose at Prank Place" featuring, the one and only “Toilet Monster” which is funny, because a few years ago Josh and I bought his Dad the EXACT SAME toilet monster as a gag gift for Christmas. (Because what else to you buy a man who already has a remote control fart machine?) Wanna know something even more funny? Josh’s dad had already bought the toilet monster for HIMSELF.

It gets better.

So, one day Josh’s dad thought it would be funny to install The Toilet Monster in their hallway bathroom (which is right by the door to the garage) in a really lame attempt to scare Josh’s mom who was out running errands.

Now, unfortunately for her (and the toilet monster) she pulled into the garage and had to pee…really really bad. So, she rushed into the bathroom, flipped up the toilet lid not paying ANY attention to the red plastic monster that was lunging at her ass, sat down and…yup…peed all over the toilet monster.

She was pissed…literally. She had to not only clean the entire bathroom, but also had to boil the toilet monster and wash all of her clothes.

All for a prank. A prank that ended up being much more funny than intended, all thanks to The Toilet Monster.

Happy Birthday Lola!

2006-05-17T07:52:00.000-05:00

I was going to write about the Toilet Monster but that's just going to have to wait because...IT'S LOLA'S BIRTHDAY! Yes, ladies and gentelman, my favoirte little Jack Russell Terrier turns the big TWO today, so tonight she's going to have gourmet doggie treats from her favorite store "Lulu & Luigi", a new collar and leash, and a nice long walk around her favorite lake.

You can visit Lola any time you like at her Dogster Dog Page.

Yes, my dog has a web page...you got a problem with that?

Didn't think so...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOLA!

Jenni; Against All Odds

2006-05-15T18:39:00.000-05:00

I know what you're thinking, you're thinking, "Damn! Who are these fabulous looking folks in the picture that Jenni posted?" And don't worry; I'll get to that.

I wanted to do an ode to my mom for Mother's Day, but I got sidetracked and it has everything to do with this photo I found in a box of photos I took from my parents house.

For those of you who know me, you know that my siblings are MUCH older than me. As a matter of fact, my mom was twenty years old when she had my older brother and was forty years old when she had me, and had two more in between with the youngest being fifteen years my elder.

If I were to guess, based solely upon fashion and the age of my siblings and cousins, this photo was probably taken around 1973, three years before I was born.

My mom is the classy dame wearing the navy sleeveless crewneck, black glasses and hair pulled back in a fancy up-do. Isn't she lovely?

My father is the guy in the white and blue butterfly collared shirt sandwiched between two strapping fells who way to closely resemble Beck,and Kelso, from "That 70's Show." Incidentally, these two just happen to be my brothers.

My sister is sitting down in front on the very left, the one with the barrette and the red pants...who would later move on to become a beauty queen and a hypochondriac. Despite this, I love her all the same.

But there was one thing missing...ME!

Recently my mom shared with me how she found out she was pregnant, which is strange, it took 30 years for her to tell me, or maybe it took 30 years for me to ask. Anyway, it was about a year after my father had brain surgery to remove a tumor from his pituitary gland, and back then neuro-surgery came with a lot more risk than today. (This is also where I believe the seed for the earlier mentioned hypochondronism was planted...Wait, is that even a word? "Hypochondronism?...Whatever.)

Apparently my mom wasn't feeling well so she went to the doctor where they ran some tests and told her to come back the next day. When she did, they placed her in the maternity section of the hospital. Now to any other individual such a blatant placement would probably lead one to believe they were...ahhhh...pregnant. (Hey, I said she was lovely, I didn't say she was sharp...just kidding mom) She said she thought to herself that they must be really busy to put her there and when the doctor came in and said, "Do you know why you're in this room?" It all hit her like a ton of bricks...She was pregnant!

She went on to tell me that the doctor went on to explain the risks of having me, with her being at a ripe old age of 40 and said, "You know, you don't have to have this baby." To which (thankfully) my mom said, "I AM SO HAVING THIS BABY!" And the rest is history.

I've always written myself off as a mistake and I've taken my mom's term "afterthought" as a more polite way to say "mistake." That is until recently. Now looking back on it I realized that after my dad's surgery my parents must have found a new lease on life and decided to give it another go...which I guess is also pretty fortunate for me.

Which leads me to the title of my E! True Hollywood Story "Jenni; Against All Odds." Now I just need to become wildly famous and worthy of an hour-long spot on E! Hey, if Todd Bridges made it, so can I.

In all seriousness though, I hope all of you thanked your Moms this Mother's Day, because without her...well...you know!

The Bird Flew....(hardy har-har)

2006-05-12T10:36:00.000-05:00

He landed on my patio furniture and sat there like he belonged, joyfully chirping, singing a song with lyrics only a parakeet could understand, he was free at last and enjoying every minute of it.

“Holy shit! There’s a parakeet on our deck, we need to catch it before it gets away!” That’s the only thing I could say, before Damian grabbed the nearest box and charged at the thing like a…well…a tall lanky man with a box to a parakeet. I can’t tell you how many times we “almost” caught it, till the time we actually did catch it, but I can say this; If we had a video camera we’d be $10,000 richer.

I walked around the neighborhood looking for anyone who may be out searching for a lost bird, questioned a few people and no one seemed to be missing our new friend. We ended up taking it into the house and fed it some finch food from the feeder where it ate like it hadn’t eaten in days. We decided that we should give it a name for the time being, and since Damian was the one who ultimately caught it, we thought that naturally we should name him Omen. The we got to thinking, we could keep it here for a few days and see if anyone posts anything around the neighborhood, but then again, it would be living in a Hefeweizen beer box, which unless you’re a German bird, is not a way for any down-home parakeet to live. Or, we could keep the bird, buy a cage, deal with its incessant chirping and bird shit until it finally drops dead , or we could take it to Petco where the lady said they would keep it for a few days in the back room and then if nobody claims it they will adopt it out. So, we chose option “C”, packed up Omen in a grocery bag and off to Petco we went.

I owned a yellow parakeet once in college, his name was Clem and he was a little bastard. Especially when he hung around with my roommate’s cockatiel “Chicken.” Clem and Chicken would fly around the house together and shit all over everything, while gnawing on the beautiful built-in buffet that was in our dining room…damn, if I only knew then what I know now. I eventually gave Clem away to this little Mexican boy that lived across the street where Clem was no longer Clem...Clem was now "Pedro."

I haven’t thought much about Clem, or Pedro, or whoever he became, and that makes me kind of sad…yeah…not really, but whatever. And to Clem and Omen, wherever you two may be, may your wings never get clipped, and your chirps never be silenced, here’s looking at you…cheers!

Wow, did this week fly by or what?! (Alternate Title: I'm a Slacker)

2006-05-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

I really have nothing to say about my commitment, or lack thereof, to this blog in the recent week. I have been busy though, so I’ve decided to make a photo documentary of what I’ve been up to the past week.

Besides, work, which is the obvious, I decided to take Friday off to give myself a long weekend in order to do some things around the house. Now it’s Monday morning and I’m so exhausted I wish I would’ve taken off work to do nothing but sit around and relax…no such luck.

FRIDAY:

Friday was to be my day for antiquing. I planned on looking for an old bookcase to store books and things in my front entryway/sunroom. I went to multiple antique stores and although I didn’t find a bookcase I found something better…I found a mantle (see below).

Being the clever and crafty individual that I am I decided to purchase this antique mantle (which is shown upside down) from a cute little antique store on 50th and Xerxes, and **make it into a bookcase. The lady at the store was so impressed with my creativity that she was going to have one made for her daughter-in-law when she found another mantle, and she was even the interior designer! I know, I rock.

SATURDAY:

Being the charitable and giving (along with clever and crafty) individual that I am I spent Saturday with Josh, Lola, Chrissy, Luke and sweet baby Lance at the 32nd Annual Walk for the Animals to benefit the Animal Humane Society , which is the largest of it’s kind in the world, raising more money than any other for their organization. I managed to get $175 in pledges and score myself a nice t-shirt.
Here are Chrissy, Luke, Lance and I stopping for a photo-op at the half-way-point.

After our walk we took the top down in The Rollerskate and went for a little ride and then **headed home to do some gardening, mow the lawn, and plant some shrubs. Our neighbor across the street, who is a professional landscaper and owns his own landscaping company gave us some plants and shrubs that were left over from a job that he had recently done and some great advice as to where to plant them.

SUNDAY:

In the morning we took Lola for a bike ride around Lake Nokomis,which is right by our house, stopped at the Nokomis Coffee Shop for a chai tea, ran into Sandra and Laddie and chatted for a bit, and then it was time to head home to spend some time with my parents who decided to come up and hang with Josh and I for the day.
We ended up having lunch at Tuggs on St. Anthony Main, and going to Bachmans to find some plants and flowers for my flower boxes that Josh recently made for me.
This picture is of the front of the house, with the new shrubs, hydrangea and other cool plants we bought to make the house look ever so charming and cottagy.

I have yet to plant the flower boxes, I’m hoping to get those done this week sometime and fill them with flowers like these…

While Josh was busy with the yard, fertilizing, planting some more shrubs and such, I decided to do the neighborly thing and bake my favorite Rosemary-Semolina, Olive Oil and Sea Salt round to give to my neighbor to thank him for his help with our landscaping. However, I couldn’t bake just one, had to make another because when you spend five hours baking bread and can’t have a taste…well…that just sucks.

**Should read have Josh make it into a bookcase.
**Should read, headed home for Josh to mow the lawn, and plant some shrubs.

The Bush Controversy

2006-05-01T18:16:00.000-05:00

I can’t quite decide if I’m writing this post because a). I’m an anal retentive shrub Nazi who really wants some sincere suggestions on how to handle this situation, or b). I have the sense of humor of a 16-year old boy.

So, here goes…

This is my neighbors bush.

As you can see, it’s clearly out of control with it’s branches and bushiness hanging out everywhere like some sort of crazy…well…bush.
Normally, people prune these things and make them all nice and straight, kind of like this:

Now, my yard is fairly neat, all my bushes are nice and trimmed because…well…that’s how I roll.

My question is, how do I politely ask my neighbor, who just happens to be female, to trim her bush? Do I say, “Hey, Tiffany, you’re bush is looking a little unruly, you may want to consider giving it a trim?” Or do I offer my bush trimming services and say, “You know Tiffany, I was planning on doing some trimming of my own, since I have my clippers out, I wouldn’t mind coming over and giving your bush a clipping.” OR I could have Josh go over there and give a males perspective and he could say “You know, as a man, we like our bushes nice and neat, maybe you should consider tidying that monster up a tad.”

Hmmmm…so many insulting and unnecessary options, I really don’t know where to begin.

What do you think?

Random Salad II

2006-04-28T13:41:00.001-05:00

This morning while driving home from the gym, I came across a bumper sticker that read. “Mitzi’s Tattoos, “A cut above the rest.” What’s with that? “A cut above the rest?” Is it just me, or does that sound like a slogan for a Plastic Surgeon, not a Tattoo parlor.
Then I started thinking, if I owned a tattoo parlor what would my logo be? “Jenni’s Tattoos, We know were to draw the line.” Or, “Jenni’s Tattoos, Because nothing in life is permanent…except that Tasmanian devil we just tattooed on your calf…you really should have thought more about that one, man.”

I think Target has an inferiority complex. You never just see any plain old “Targets” anymore, now they’re all “Super Target”, or “Target Greatland,” and there’s something to be said about being able to buy your floor mats and grapes all in one store…well, I really don’t know what that is, but I’m pretty sure it’s brilliant.

Where do they get those people that do the Valtrex commercials? Seriously, if I was an actor and my agent called me and said, “I’ve got this great role for you! You get to play the poor sap that has genital herpes on a television commercial!” I’d probably just hang up. But only after asking how much they pay, because what’s a little public indignity if I could drive around in a kick ass sports car?

Speaking of kick ass sports cars, whatever happened to the Delorian? Did it do something to offend someone? I mean, the Firebird lasted for decades, as did the Camero…What, was the Delorian just not good enough for your garden variety sports car standards? Maybe it was the weird doors, or maybe it cut a bad rap in Back To The Future with the whole flex capacitor thing…I guess we’ll never know.

Jenni's How-To Guide.

2006-04-27T07:39:00.000-05:00

How to Simultaneously Humiliate your Dog and your Man:

Figure A.

Step 1: Go to pet store and buy super obnoxious pink plaid doggie carrier.

Step 2: Bring pink plaid doggie carrier home and chase dog around house to try and strap her in.

Step 3: Lure dog near you by offering yummy treats.

Step 4: Retrieve Bacitracin from medicine cabinet and clean scratch on arm from dogs freshly clipped claws.

Step 5: Scold the dog into obnoxious pink plaid doggie carrier.

Step: 6 Strap on doggie carrier and laugh hysterically while checking yourself out in a full-length mirror.

Step 7: Wait for man to come home from work.

Step 8: Watch as man comes home from work and immediately breaks into out-of-control laughter at the dog in the super obnoxious pink plaid doggie carrier.

Step 9: (This is where you need to turn on your charm) Wait for man to change, offer him a refreshing beer, (preferably a Blue Moon with an orange slice) and coax him into the doggie carrier.

Step 10: DO IT FAST! Grab your camera phone and take a photo of the man and the dog in the super obnoxious pink plaid doggie carrier to show all of his friends and yours at parties and **dinner dates.

Congratulations! You have now managed to simultaneously humiliate both your dog and your man.

**This goes over exceptionally well at dinner dates on the patio of classy restaurants where the conversation inevitably will lead to the discussion (with your waiter) of shaving a cats ass to prevent the occurrence of dingle berries.