I LOVE New York

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....

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

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

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.

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

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?)

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

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!

Random Salad

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)

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.

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

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!!!!!

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.

ThatÂ’s 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.

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."

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

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...

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.

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.

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)