JennyExiled’s Neighborhood

ME + MY SOUL MATE = AWESOME FUN

Your Favorite Weapon

fail-owned-orange-juice-fail.jpg (JPEG Image, 500x400 pixels)

Think about it...

Quiz: What's Your Lucky Charm?

(click here to take the quiz yourself)

PolishedTurd

The Golden Turd

Good luck, Golden Turd!

Sorry.  We couldn't resist the irony.  Truth is, you have no luck.  When you think things are looking up, you always find the turd beneath the gold.  Face it, GT: you would lose betting on a one-horse race.  Luck? Why even check your luggage? You know it won't even make it to the same continent as you.  You're doing okay just getting your seatbelt hooked correctly, much less catching favorable lights and traffic conditions.  If the cook hocks one goober into Friday's gallon tureen of chowder, guess whose bowl it will find? Your fortune cookies' staleness is matched only by the fortunes they convey.  While you sleep, a gang of ninja black cats march back and forth across your floor.  At the end of your rainbow is the leprechauns' Port-O-Let.  It's a miracle your cells can remember how to oxidize glucose, so don't press your luck hoping for winning lotto numbers.  Please, PLEASE don't ever sit on a plane with us.

1)  Lose pound #11.  If my Daily Plate/weight loss trend holds up, this will happen tomorrow morning.  (Or I guess technically at some point tonight, while I am sleeping.) 

2)  Read the new People, Us Weekly and Entertainment Weekly magazines.  I know People's cover story is Ellen and Portia's wedding.  I'm not a huge fan of Portia but I love Ellen.  (If you're gay, you have to.  It's one of the big gay rules, second only to `Don't sleep with the opposite sex.')

3)  Finish the new Faye Kellerman, The Mercedes Coffin.  It's really good so far.  (Incidentally, I had no idea Marge, one of the more major secondary characters, was a Republican.  I like her anyway, but wow--she blasted us liberals for blaming George Bush for the state of the country and I was a little taken aback because really, who else should we blame?  Regardless, this is a really good book and part of a fantastic series.  I love Peter and Rina.)

4)  Watch the remake of Prom Night, which Netflix sent me.

5)  Sleep.

6)  Do laundry.

7)  Quality time with Sam.

8)  Cook dinner at least one night--as part of my plan to realize that I cannot live on Lean Cuisines and cereal alone when I am at home.

1400 -- the number of pages I printed out in documents and presentations yesterday
9 - 6  -- the hours of the day it took to produce these image heavy POSes on my generic HP color printer
4  -- the number of times I had to beg the people at Staples to bind them for me on 'rush' close to closing time
1 -- the number of times I thanked god I was showing a lot of cleave while at Staples
9 -- the time I finally left work
9:30 -- the time I realized I left my bus pass at work
9:30 -- the time i went OHHHHH SNAP in a crowded bus terminal in front of many, many other commuters (for 930, that's so bizarro)
2.25 -- the amount of change i was able to scrounge out of the bottom of my purse to get home
1 -- the number of times i found my pass while scrounging for my keys when at my front door

4 -- the number of hours of sleep i got last night

730 -- the time i got arrived into work this morning
9 -- the last time i ate something
8 -- towncar/limo trips that were booked by me at some point during the day
630 -- roundabouts the time i realized i was not going to get out at a semblance of ontimeattitude because of
4 -- potential cars that management could have left said presentations in when they realized they had done so
1 -- the number of limousine companies i fired
1 -- the number of new limousine companies i hired

90 -- the number of minutes it would take for the driver to return the presentations to the office
60 -- the number of minutes i waited for a messanger to arrive to take the presentations to the waldorf
20 -- the number of minutes that had elapsed from when the packaged was handed from the from door staff to the messanger without contacting me and letting me know it was gone
12 -- the number of text messages exchanged between myself and my friend stacy, trying to coordinate if i was coming over after work to help her move furniture yet
? -- the number of text messages it will still take to resolve this problem
8 -- the time the presentations arrived from the driver
8 -- the time i became so incoherent from low blood sugar i was shaking all over the place on the elevator ride down
2 -- the number of patties in a turkey burger i ordered for delivery
1 -- the number of ketchup packets they gave me
infinate -- my amount of sadness over lack of ketchup

24 -- the number of minutes past 9 it presently is
1 -- the number of motherfucking cars I am getting to take my ass home

3 -- the number of times the company credit card just got declined
1 -- big ol' sigh.

This is a political one.

I read ths really good commentary on cnn.com comparing John McCain to George Bush.  I was talking to Jen about it and I mentioned that I had read somewhere that John McCain would be a fun guy to have a beer with.  I've heard the same said about George Bush, too, and I like fun people to drink with...but I wouldn't vote for one.

I want a smart president, one who won't spend a third of his tenure as president on vacation.  I want a president who can pronounce "nuclear."  (I'm petty that way.)

I want a president I can respect, not someone who just repeats the same speech over and over.  I don't want someone who resorts to dirty politics or name calling.  And I want someone who can speak without a speech writer nearby.

The commentary is really interesting.  I hope you read it.  It's not a love letter to John McCain but it's not a hatchet job, either.  And it raises some really important points, I think.

It's really very simple.

Being a writer is a shitty job.  People think that writers should just write for the pleasure of it, and therefore writing is a job they won't pay you for.  Not true.  People think they can just sit down and decide one day to be a writer.  Not bloody likely.  People also think they can control what other people write.  You can't.

I've always said that if you know a writer, you will eventually find yourself in one of Mork's reports back to Orson.

Does Mork care if you are in the report?  Nope.  Does Orson think it's wrong for people to interfere with Mork filing his report?  Hell, yes.

So I'm going to admit it.  I'm sick to death of the scrutiny.  Quite frankly, I'm embarrassed for you -- that you think you have the right to control the things I say, what I do, what I think, and what I write about.  I'm tired of feigning respect for, and continuing to smile and nod at, the people who just want to judge me.  Worse: when they communicate these judgments to me and then expect me to change to fit their ideas.

I'm taking my control back.  Here's what I've left for you:  your scrutiny, your judgments, and your ideas.  You can have them.  They are, after all, just yours.  I've never shared them.

This is not my first VOX blog post.  I've moved everything into "neighbourhood only" so that I can select who sees what, and when.   How's that for showing some lady balls?   I hope you aren't feeling threatened.  All I'm doing is living my own life.  Which is, like it or lump it, the life of a writer.

If you need access to one of my previous posts, whether through a Google search or a link that one of my friends has shared, just message or contact me, and I'll hook you up.

In the theme that kids say the craziest stuff.... I think sometimes The Kid channels a dead crazy people.  He is always coming up with the strangest stuff that I can't explain where it came from.  I'm reasonably on top of what he is watching on television and other forms of media but sometimes I have no explanation where it comes from.  Here's an example...

While lighting off fireworks a little while ago.  The Kid looks at me and Kevin and says, "They stink.  It smells like dead donkeys and cigarettes."  Obviously we both look at him with puzzled looks on our faces.  How would he know what dead donkeys and cigarettes smelled like? Where did he get this association? He's twelve!

Kevin immediately asks me if I have ever taken him to Tijuana.  I admit that most of my trips to Tijuana are fuzzy at best but I don't remember The Kid starting out with me.  So I feel it is safe to assume that I've never taken him there.  My only explanation is that once again he is channeling dead crazy people.

What's your favorite season and why?
Submitted by [Susan]

Susan, this is a sweet question but I refuse to pick just one. There are so many wonderful things about each and every season! How do you choose?!

Winter (my birth season... kind of, if I'm being weird): the snow and the rain are beautiful things. It's so nice and cold, I can wear sweaters! No revealing very pasty white flesh to the world! No feeling like I need to start stripping in order to maintain a comfortable internal temperature! Plus tell me something nicer than sitting at home, in front of a fire, drinking a giant mug of hot chocolate or tea?

Spring: REBIRTH, BITCHES! ... sorry. I'm excitable. But even for me, a non-gardener and possesser of Black Thumb: killer of all plants, I love to watch the little bitty plants sprout, knowing that in a few short bits of time, there's fresh produce and fruit for me to eat! I love to eat! Spring is the perfect time for people who like to eat! If you're not counting summer... or fall. That spark of colour after living with the darkness of winter, the days growing longer and longer until it comes to:

Summer: Even though it gets annoyingly hot (yes, even here), when else will you be able to walk outside and pluck blackberries from the bushes? When else can you walk down the street and find fresh blueberries or cherries just sitting there, waiting for you to buy them and eat them in a greedy whirl? And what's nicer than sitting on a restaurant patio with some friends, talking, laughing and drinking cocktails?

Fall: Another season full of colour. I don't think I could live somewhere that didn't have fall. Why would you want to live without that cooling temperature, the changes in colours, that bite in the air that wakes you up in the morning when you're trudging to work?

How do you choose just one?!