John Mayer's Forearms

There Is a Very Good Reason Why I Haven't Updated

2006-11-13T19:48:00.000-08:00

i have been working on a new project. that's why!

MY PODCAST

(ok, i am so not a techno geek. if that link or the link to the left don't work, go to iTunes and look up "reality tv roundup" - that's the best i can do.)

i have started a podcast talking about reality tv, knitting and whatever else pops up into my head.

Episode 2 is going up tonite and i will be using this blog to post show notes and links to other sites i ramble on about. in the 2nd episode, i talk about going to a fashion show that Tim Gunn from Project Runway hosted and HERE is a link to a short bit of video i captured during his and Angela's Q&A before the show.

i am not abandoning the blog altogether, but i just find it easier to talk than type most days. if i capture a pic of something i find really absurd, rest assured, it will be blogged.

i hope you like it!

Post Office Theater - The Matinee

2006-09-23T17:39:00.000-07:00

my mom and i share a house and we have our own division of labor that works well for us. she does the yardwork and i balance the checkbook. she handles calling repair guys and i promise not to attempt to cook, thus not burning the house to the ground. she does most of the housework and i run most of errands, like grocery shopping, paying bills in person and going to the post office. now, i hate going to the post office, but i hate mopping even more, so it's the lesser of two evils for me. (speaking of which - mom, the entertainment center is looking a little dusty. get on that, would ya?)

so, this afternoon, i had to go to the post office to mail two packages for her. i walked in and saw a customer arguing with one of the clerks. now, there is nothing i love more than watching people make asses of themselves in public, so this put a little spring in my step. i got in line and this argument was already well under way, but i was able to catch up fairly quickly. the customer had purchased a few postal money orders and now decided he didn't need them after all and he wanted his money back. the woman at the counter told him he could get his money back, but that did not include the processing fee. that was nonrefundable.

he was FURIOUS! and outraged that they would not refund this fee. how much money was this guy out to incite such rage? would he not be able to make his rent this month? would the kiddos go to bed hungry tonight because daddy wouldn't have enough for the happy meal? those must be some steep fees.

then the clerk said, "sir, you can get all your money back, but the 95 cent processing fee is not refundable."

95 cents.

so, they go back and forth, and everyone in line is riveted by this asshole and his 95 cents. the argument escalates and the clerk threatened to call the authorities at one point. he backed down after that.

that's when the clerk asked if he lives in (insert name of my city). he said he did and she asked to see his ID. when he handed it over, she asked if the address was current. after he confirmed it was, she proceedes to write down his name and address.

i turned to the guy next to me in line and said, "he is never getting his mail EVER. AGAIN. in fact, i think he will be getting all of our junk mail from now on."

the downside to this little spectacle was the fact that mister 95 cents was hispanic. i am mexican-american and was raised in the mexican culture. so, when i see hispanics acting like ignorant fools i just cringe and think, "you are making the rest of us look bad, asshole." then i figure they are probably puerto rican. and don't anybody jump my ass for that last comment. in the hispanic cultures, the brazillians look down on the mexicans, the mexicans look down on the puerto ricans and the puerto ricans look down on the salvadoreans. it's just the way it is.

on a side note, i took this pic outside the post office.

nothing had been freshly painted, certainly not the goddamned window. why was this sign there? it is still bugging me.

Fat Kids, Dead Dogs and Cheap Ass Beer - A Photo Essay

2006-09-17T19:16:00.000-07:00

this is an actual school that is near my house. can you see the name of the school? yes, the Lewis Carroll Academy. looks to me like someone didn't do their homework. opening soon next door, the Michael Jackson Day Care Center.

words on the ass of your pants or shorts are never a good idea. ever. sparkly words are grounds for capital pinishment as far as i am concerned. i spend most of my life making sure people aren't looking at my ass, so i don't understand why anyone would want someone else to actually read theirs.

the worst offense i ever saw was in iowa, land of the large women. we saw a gal that was easily a size 24, wearing blue sweat pants that read "baby girl" across her ample ass. this was made worse by the fact that basically there was one word on each ass cheek. and when she walked, her ass cheeks and the words moved up and down in tandem. it was dizzying to watch. yet, also mesmerizing. just say no to ass cheek art, gals.

i took this picture in an elevator in cancun last month. look at the stick figure family at the bottom. dad looks normal enough. sadly, mom is a peg leg. and the little boy is a tub! he looks like Violet Beauregarde after she ate the blueberry gum. poor, fat little junior.

ok, now this is just 12 kinds of fucked up and wrong. Old Yeller Dog Food. who would feed that to their dog? i fully expected to see Mama Cass Brand Sliced Ham in the next aisle. which is three aisles down from the Karen Carpenter laxatives.

here's how you can tell i was at the gross, ghetto Sav-On yesterday. on it's own grand display, for all to see, was Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, Old Milwaukee and Old Milwaukee Light beer. topped off with generic label cheez-its. i hauled ass out of there because i was scared to death that i might run into one of my paternal relatives.

Weird Things That Have Been in my Dog's Mouth Lately

2006-08-02T21:36:00.000-07:00

first off, sorry that it has been so long since my last post. i could give you some sob story about how crazy my job has been, how tired i have been, blah, blah, blah. but let's be honest. the new season of Big Brother started last month and i can't tear myself away from the live feeds. apparently, watching Janelle color her roots at 12 midnight takes precedence over, well, everything else in my life. don't worry, i am fully aware of how pathetic that is, but the first step is admitting that your addiction has ruined other aspects of your life. but i ain't giving up the feeds. i am not a quitter.

anyway, back to the topic at hand.

my dog, Daphne, loves persimmons. that much we learned last year when she ate the 12,000 persimmons that fell from our tree.

there is not a fruit she will not eat. she is an equal opportunity fructose addict. except for the grapes in the pic. my mom did some research and found out grapes are lethal for dogs. who knew? so, no grapes for her. but all other fruits are fair game. a few weeks ago i was cutting up a pineapple and she damn near wrestled me to the ground for it. but i put up a good fight because a friend of mine smuggled that pineapple back from hawaii just for me. she can get her own law breaking friends.

i now have to eat my fruit locked away in a different room, otherwise she might pull out a stun gun and taser my ass to get at my watermelon. she's hardcore like that.

then there is the wood. god help me, the fucking wood. the dog will eat wood all day if we let her. hand to god, i have caught her chewing on the actual house more than once. the $1300 worth of bones, ropes, kongs, and balls that we have bought at PetCo are nothing to her. she wants lumber.

a few weeks ago, my mom trimmed the trees in our yard and left a lot the branches on the ground. now, before anyone accuses me of being a bitch for making my mom do the yardwork, please note that she likes it. and i run a lot of her errands for her, so it's a trade off. trust me, the woman has not seen the inside of a post office in about 10 years.

but, back to the branches. the dogs thought xmas had come early.

i can't wait until she figures it out and just starts gnawing directly on the trees themselves. how much wood would a pit/lab mix chuck if a lab/mix could chuck wood? we'll find out soon enough, i guess.

then there are the possums. yes, the fucking possums.

a few weeks ago, i let the dogs out for one last run at 10pm. while i was in the kitchen, i looked out the window and saw Daphne running in the yard with something in her mouth. the porch light was not on, so i couldn't see what she had. knowing she is a laundry thief, i thought she had stolen one of my sweaters off the washing machine. so, i went outside and called her to me. as she ran towards me, she activated the motion lights. the light comes blaring on and i see she has a live, medium sized possum in her mouth.

my scream was heard in 7 different time zones.

she had it by the torso, so the head and tail were hanging out of the sides of her mouth. interestingly enough, the possum was actually "playing possum." i was afraid that it would start fighting back, so i knew i had to get it away from her.

i ran in the house, grabbed a box and went out back again. i had to stand in front of her and use my high pitched, playful voice and ask her to drop the possum. choking back the screams, i stood out there, begging her, "drop the possum. give momma the possum."

miraculously, she did. the possum hit the ground, rallied for a moment and that is when i slammed the box down over it. then, i managed to get the dogs in their kennel. but i still had a possum in a box to deal with. i called my mom, who i knew was on her way home, to see how far away she was because i didn't think i could handle this by myself. she suggested i move the box to the far side of the yard, open the fence and shove it out that way. but i couldn't open the fence, so i had to wait for her to get home. me and my box o' possum. she finally got home and we managed to get the gate open and scooted the box across the yard and got it to the other side of fence.

after that, i opened a brand new bottle of Stoli and stuck a straw in it. yes, my dog has driven me to drink.

then 2 weeks ago, i was on the phone with my friend, Martha Jean, when i heard my mom screaming. i hung up, ran outside and saw the Daphne had captured another possum. how fucking stupid and slow are these animals? jesus christ, don't they talk amongst themselves? "hey, marty, stay away from the yard with the 2 dogs. the black and white one will catch your furry ass faster than you can say Possums Rule. seriously, dude, she's quick like that."

i'm thinking of buying the dog a muzzle. i can't take any more of this.

I Can't Make This Shit Up

2006-06-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

my granny was just here and she wanted to watch her novella (spanish soap opera). these shows are notoriously over the top. soneone is always a whore, someone always has a secret past, someone is always undercover as a nun and someone is always someone else's long lost child that they gave up for adoption. tonight's episode was no exception.

now, my granny assumes i give a flying rat's ass about this show (sorry, i don't) and proceeds to narrate for me. these sentences actually came out of her mouth:

"oooo, she has a brain tumor."

"she's nice. everyone likes her. after the circus broke up, she took in all the circus people."

then she said something about someone's earrings but honestly, i didn't catch the whole thing. at that point i was in the kitchen trying to slit my wrists with a butter knife.

Knitters, Strippers and Angry Dads - Just Another Sunday Afternoon at Joann Fabrics

2006-06-12T23:23:00.000-07:00

on sunday afternoon i went to my local joann Fabrics because i needed some knitting needles. and, yes, i did need them. i actually did not have size 6 double pointed needles, thank you very much. when i entered the store, i noticed that only one register was open and there was one customer. they were obviously having problems finding the correct price of the item she wanted. i didn't give it a second thought, and went on my merry way.

after i grabbed my needles and spent a few minutes perusing the yarn aisles, i went up front to pay for my needles. they were STILL working with the same customer. and now, there was another customer in line behind her. this made me third in line. while the fracas continued at the register, i amused myself by looking at the customer in line ahead of me.

where to start? well, let's start at the top. a weave the like of which i haven't seen since janet jackson's "velvet rope" tour circa 1986. moving down, i could not help but notice the cheap polyester halter top atop the painted on acid wash jeans. this outfit was completed by her 4 inch high stripper shoes. plastic stripper shoes. everything about her screamed "dancer at Secret Desires down by the railroad tracks." but then i thought i was being judgemental, and it was just as possible that she worked at an office or WalMart. i chided myself for being a snotty bitch and then i noticed that the line had grown and now 8 people were waiting and they were STILL helping the first customer.

everyone in line behind me was doing the "i'm pissed off but not about to speak up" sigh. taking the bull by the horns, i asked the cashier to call for help and open a second register. and i swear i asked as nicely as i could at the moment.

the next cashier comes, and tells the FauxStripper that she will ring her up because she was next in line. but then she asks FauxStripper how she is paying because her register doesn't have one dollar bills.

hand to god, the NotSoFauxStripper says earnestly, "oh, i have lots of singles!" i bet you do, honey and i bet i know where they have been.

as i made my move to get in the newly opened lane, someone tried to cut in front of me. it was a father there with his young daughter and they were buying supplies for a school project for her. the father was one of the pissed of "sighers" but i will be damned if he was going to cut in line. i said, a smidge loudly, "oh, i do believe i was next." i was the only one there with the balls to speak up, and this dipshit thought he was going to go ahead of me? oh, guess again, weekend daddy. guess again.

so, i finally paid for my purchase after the NotSoFauxStripper. but i paid with my debit card because no way in hell was i going to risk getting back one of her singles in my change. i don't need to get an STD from some fucking dollar bill.

El Gringo

2006-06-08T23:13:00.000-07:00

los angeles has a huge hispanic population and about 30% of them are related to me. i don't speak spanish, but i understand it a bit and can get by. even the non-hispanics here know at least a few words. well, most non-hispnaics.

the other day i was at my favorite mexican restaurant and in front of me were 4 very white teenage boys. so white in fact, that i am will to bet at least one of them was named Skip. i could hear them ordering and one boy mangled the spanish language so badly that it took me a minute to figure out what the hell he was ordering.

here is a phonetic replication of his order:
"i would like a POLE-O DEE A-SAD-A burrito."

ok, Skip, i don't expect everyone to know how to pronounce asada, but c'mon! have you never seen an El Pollo Loco commercial? it's POY-O, for christ's sake. i would love to see him try to order a Chile Relleno.

Thank God She's Cute

2006-06-01T22:37:00.000-07:00

even though the dogs are sisters from the same litter, they do have 2 very distinct personalities. Daphne, the one in front, is charming, but not real bright. Roxy, in the back, is smarter and much more dominant. this makes for some fun days at Chez Jelly. and by "fun" i mean "freaking exhausting."

a few Saturdays ago, i was asleep and was woken by the sound of my mom calling for Roxy. i cracked one eye open, saw that it was only 7am and promptly tried to go back to sleep. it takes a lot to get me out of bed before noon on a Saturday. then i heard her continue to call for Roxy and was mildly irritated that the dog wasn't coming when she was called. then my mom yells for me that she can't find Roxy and needs my help. i shot out of bed like my ass was on fire and ran to the backyard.

we have a high, wooden fence in the backyard and each side overlooks a different neighbor's backyard. so, we grabbed the step stool and peeked over all the fence sides, calling Roxy's name. the whole time, Daphne is following us and peeking thru the fence as if Roxy might be over there. when we ascertained that Roxy wasn't in any neighbor's yards, mom said she would get in the car and circle the block. now, we live on a busy, busy street. we didn't say it, but we both knew she would basically be looking for a brown smudge in the road.

mom takes off and i continue to call for Roxy, the panic growing by the second. i wandered back into the kitchen and saw the milk on the counter. (mom still hasn't gotten on board with refrigerating the dairy products. this is an issue with us.) but when i saw the milk, i realized that our fridge is in the garage (don't ask. long story) and knew that Roxy liked to follow her in there. the little, dim lightbulb went off above my head and i ran to the garage and flung open the door. sure enough. Roxy was there, tail wagging, having a grand old time playing by herself in the garage.

i turned to Daphne and said, "well, you are Fucking Useless. you knew she was in here the whole time and yet, still ran around the yard with us. never once did you run to the garage door and bark a la "Lassie's letting us know Timmy is in the well. Fucking Uselss."

she now answers to F.U.

There is a Reason They Call it the "Y" Chromosome

2006-05-22T23:59:00.000-07:00

ok, so we all know men are from mars and women are from venus. we are different species destined to never understand the other. i am not going to delve into the cliches of men never asking for directions or women asking if these jeans make her look fat. but, there is truth in those cliches. men make about as much sense to women as katie holmes willingly giving birth to the CruiseSpawn.

that being said, we do manage to co-exist on a day to day basis without too many scuffles. but then, you will see something that is so completely testostorone driven that if defies description. that is when photos become necessary.

yup, fake balls hanging from a car. i GUAR-AN-DAMN-TEE you that you will never see a woman driving around with fake ovaries hanging off the back of her mazda miata. they say never say never, well, i am saying never.

i snapped that pic while in the drive thru line at del taco. and since Senor Dipshit (see about 3 posts down) is still running the drive thru at the speed of molasses, i had plenty of time to ponder the fake nads. the conclusion that i came to was that the faux nuts were the latex equivalent of someone that wants so desperately to believe something about themselves, that they repeat it constantly, despite the fact that it is completely untrue. think david brent of the UK version of "The Office" or michael scott in the american version. he is so spectacularly unfunny, yet constantly tells people how he is a master of comedy. the big, fake balls are the same thing. any guy driving around with those has less testicular mass than lance armstrong coming out of a cold shower.

and just having finished watching the season finale of "24" i can say without a shadow of a doubt that Jack Bauer would NEVER drive around with fake balls on his car. and yes, i'm saying never.

Gauchos Be Gone!!

2006-05-13T19:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Lady in Front of Me in Line at Best Buy Today,

as is the norm of saturdays, the line at my local Best Buy was long. so i had to plenty of time to observe and i have a little feedback for you. and obviously you need it as no one has ever told you some of these basic truths. first, let's start with your hair. now, you had a lovely Coach bag and your keychain was hanging off it so i could plainly see your Mercedes Benz car key. this leads me to belive that you are probably not living in the ghetto and clipping coupons for Top Ramen, that being said, how is it that you cannot afford a $4 bottle of hair conditioner? dry, frizzy hair with 2 inch roots is not pretty. take note.

your daughter was there with you and she appeared to be about 7 years old and about 30 pounds overweight. have you not seen the childhood diabetes commericals? i have. they are on tv every 5 minutes. pay attention to them and stop killing your child with twinkies. that's an order.

and why was she dressed like a mini, rotund hooker? Prostitot Chic is so last year. her cropped, skintight tank and ruffled miniskirt offically qualify her as the youngest "fat girl in skinny clothes" that the Unholy Smell has ever seen. but to your credit, at least there were no words across her ass like "JUICY" or "HOT STUFF." because at that point i would have called Child Protective Services on you. i would have done it in a heartbeat.

back to you. the gauchos. dear lord in heaven, the freaking gauchos. have you not seen these on other people? they look good on maybe 2% of the population. you are not in that 2%. not by a long shot. that knit jersey fabric clings to every lump and bump on your ass. why not just shine a klieg light on your butt and wear a t-shirt that says, "i love doritos and have the ass to prove it!" and be done with it? those gauchos weren't doing you any favors, so do yourself a favor and burn the fucking things.

i'm only here to help.

Love,
Jelly

Law & Order, Ebay and Yahoo

2006-05-02T21:02:00.000-07:00

how many episodes of Law & Order can you watch in one day? well, i am pretty sure i watched 30 of them last saturday. granted, i slept 10 hours that day and was out running errands for 4 hours, leaving me only 10 hours of tv watching time, but it felt like 30 episodes.

thank god for USA and the TNT Networks. between the 2 of them , i can watch Law & Order (the original), Law & Order SVU and Law & Order Criminal Intent all damn day. and i have. now, before you think me a total slacker, i have watched said episodes whilst knitting. i think i took up knitting to justify my TV watching time. see, i'm not just watching TV, i being productive! i am CREATING things, and i just happen to be satisfying my TV crime show addiction at the same time. if "Cold Case" ever comes out on DVD i am never leaving the house. but i sure will get a lot of knitting done! and god knows i have enough yarn to last me. but the compulsive yarn buying is a whole nother story.

of all of them, Law & Order SVU is my favorite. Christoher Meloni plays Det. Stabler and he is a dedicated cop who sometimes crosses the line, but he does it because he wants to gets the scumbag perps off the streets. a ragtag hero with a heart of gold. but sometimes, that kind of freaks me out. see, Dick Wolf, the mastermind of the Law & Order franchise is also the mastermind behind the now defunct HBO prison series, "Oz." and Dick Wolf likes to use the same actors in all his series. on "Oz" Mr. Meloni played Keller, a mean motherfucker that would not hestitate to anally rape a newbie in the shower and then bash his head in to keep him from squealing. not exactly hero material. sometimes, when watching him play Det. Stabler, i flash back to his days on "Oz" and scream at the tv, "look out! he's got a shiv!" then i realize he is only reaching for his badge. it can be quite the roller coaster ride for me.

whenver i want to watch an episode, i just hop over to Yahoo! TV Listings and check to see what is playing. well, i used to anyway. until a few weeks ago when Yahoo! added that goddamned Bounty commercial to every TV and news page. as i always have my speakers on, i was getting assaulted by that fucking commercial at least 6 times a day. i have switched over to MSN TV Listings. it's a lot quieter. just to be ornery, i now refuse to buy Bounty ever again. the quicker picker upper can bite my ass. it's me and the Brawny guy all the way from now on. TAKE THAT YOU OVERZEALOUS MARKETING MORONS! besides, i think the Brawny guy has nice forearms.

during the commercial breaks, i hop on the lap top and check my ebay bids. this week i have lost 5, yes, count them, FIVE ebay auctions. and why have i lost them? because i refuse to pay retail price for yarn on ebay, that's why! this is a huge pet peeve of mine. to me, ebay is supposed to be like one big yard sale. if it's new you pay more, and if it's used, it better not smell too funky. these people are not running a store, they are not paying employees, workman's comp insurance and a lease. they are selling the stuff out of their basement! and they don't even have to pay a webmaster because ebay does all the work for them! if i am going to pay retail price, i am going to do it at my LYS (that's "local yarn store" for those of my non-fiber obssessed readers). these jerkwads on ebay just piss me off! get a REAL business and i will pay your REAL prices.

speaking of internet shopping, i got a WONDERFUL new perfume today. i ordered it from Sephora and it's called Clean Ultimate. it's a very clean, crisp, springtime scent. i literally cannot stop sniffing myself. gals, get you some. it's good.

see, i can be happy sometimes. it just takes an $80 bottle of perfume to do it. but if my granny asks, we're telling her it only cost $25. she freaks out about stuff like that. i also have her convinced that kate spade purses only cost $30, on sale. sometimes it is just easier to lie than watch her stroke out.

I Am SO Over Today

2006-04-28T08:29:00.000-07:00

it's not even 8:30am and i am ready to call it quits today. it's just been "one of those mornings." and now i am going to whine about it, so if you have a low whining threshold, you might want to skip over this and just go directly to cuteoverload.com and look at puppies.

technically, i should have been able to sleep an extra 30 minutes this morning. somehow, my dog did not get cc'ed on that memo. at 6:15am she was beating the crap out of me because she wanted to get an early start on her day of chewing bits of wood off the side of my house, tormenting her sister and licking herself inappropriately. so, she bumps me with her nose. now, this is not a gentle, loving nudge. no, she does her impersonation of a battering ram and puts all her weight behind it. repeatedly. until i wake up, stumble to the doors and let her out. so, great, there goes my plan to sleep in. i figure i am already up, so i might as well get ready for work. that was fairly uneventful. thank god.

until i get to my car and realize i forgot to bring out the trash. so i grab my car keys AND my house keys and go back inside to get the trash bag. mission accomplished and keys in hand, i close the front door behind me. and .0008 seconds after that door closed, i realized my house keys were not in my hand. only my car keys.

"oh, no problem." i think, "i'll just grab the spare keys that we keep in the (blank)" *that's me trying to be all safety conscious and stealth. i am not about to tell the world where we keep those spare keys. someone might come in and steal my yarn, then i would be REALLY pissed.*

so, i go to (blank) and the keys aren't there. which means they are probably inside the house doing me not a whole hell of a lot of good. brilliant. i figure i will just go to work and deal with the key situation later tonight when i get home.

off on my less than merry little way, i swing into DelTaco just like i do every morning and order the exact same thing i order every morning. i understand that drive thru speakers aren't exactly Dolby Sound, so i always make sure to enunciate as clearly as possible. this is a wasted effort on my part. i could scream into the speaker, "PARIS HILTON IS A DISEASED WHORE!" and i have an equal chance of getting what i ordered.

for the last five days straight, yes, FIVE DAYS IN A FREAKIN' ROW, this moron has fucked up my order. and it's not that hard and it's not like i am special ordering anything. it's very simple. a small green burrito and a medium diet soda. that is EXACTLY how i order it every morning. and every morning he repeats it back to me as, "a small green burrito and a small coke." and every morning i dream about shoving a hot poker up his ass.

so, we go back and forth for a few minutes with the "i ordered a MEDIUM DIET soda." and the "you want a small coke?" routine that we do. at this point i am sure i am on candid camera, but they are never going to be able to use the footage because i am obviously thisclose to jumping out of my car, wriggling thru the drive thru window and shoving this guy's balls into the deep fryer. you want hot sauce with THAT, asshole?

if anyone is looking for me, i plan on spending the rest of the day under my desk, in the fetal position, sucking on a bottle of Stoli.

Why I Need Therapy: Reason 45,296

2006-04-25T21:27:00.000-07:00

my granny is 76 years old. she is an energetic, sharp, vibrant 76 years old. but she's not what the media would have you believe. she's not one of those comical grannies like you see in the movies who talks about snoop dog and and internet dating, but she's pretty cool nonetheless.

i enjoy spending time with her and just hanging out. she taught me everything i know about gambling and quite frankly, she has a more happening social life than i do. it's not unusual to talk to her late sunday morning and find out she slept in because she went to not one, but two parties the night before. yes, she's quite the social butterfly.

then there are days where i wish i was adopted.

recently she got one of those fancy Craftmatic type beds that has the massager, heat and adjustable settings. actually, she got it from her mother who turned 100 years old last week. her mother is in a rest home now, so granny got this almost new bed from her. anyway, i was at her house and i was trying out all the bells and whistles on the bed. i was laying there futzing with the remote control and i remarked that this bed was just a fancier version of those vibrating beds that you find in cheap motels. that's when she decided to tell me a story and i decided to go to the happy place in my head.

she said, "one time, your grandfather and i were at a motel that had one of those vibrating beds-"

"granny, please stop talking."

"-and i put two quarters in the machine-"

"granny, please, i am begging you. stop."

"-and nothing happened-"

"granny, did you hear that noise? that was the sound of my mind snapping."

"-but then, at one in the morning, all of a sudden, it kicked in-"

"someone. anyone. please kill me now. my granny is telling me about her and my grandfather and a vibrating bed in a motel. i want to die."

"-and it just scared us half to death."

"help me."

Random Crap That Is Pissing Me Off Today

2006-04-19T21:59:00.000-07:00

1.) i can't believe i even have to say this, but 55 year old white women CANNOT pull off cornrows. and this isn't some random rule i just pulled out of my ass. no, i actually saw this with my own two eyes today. and the cornrows even had the cheesy, brightly colored plastic beads at the end of them. this look didn't work on bo derek 20 years ago and it sure as hell doesn't work now. ten years from now, this woman is gonna get a bitchin' new haircut called the Rachel and she will just think she is the shit!

2.) people, shut the fuck up about the price of gas. if i hear one more person bitch about the price of gas i am going to start huffing it. then, the constant whining will fade into the background like the sound of the charlie brown teacher, WOHM WOHM WOHM, and i can live in peace once again. i mean, really, is it putting that big a dent in your pocketbook? i fill up once a week, and i put in about 10 gallons. so, even if gas SHOOTS up 30 cents per gallon, that only an extra 3 bucks a week. and i ain't sweating 3 bucks. if that extra 3 bucks is really crimping your budget, here's an idea, skippy.....cut back on the 4 dollar starbucks venti latte double foam no whip soy frappucino grandes. and why is no one bitching about the price of starbucks? that stuff is like 40 bucks a gallon.

3.) for over a year now, my friend, Jen, has been bugging me to learn to knit socks so i can knit her some. i didn't want to because i hate double pointed knitting needles and well, they looked hard. but, i finally caved and knit my first pair last week. OH.MY.GOD. they are SO much fun! and of course, being the overly enthusiastic knitter that i am, i have spent $100 on sock yarn in the last week. i will be knitting socks for months. and the irony? i wear open toed shoes 360 days a year. guess what everyone is getting for xmas?

4.) if i barely know and/or barely like you, don't call me "dear" or "sweetie." and don't do it every 5 seconds. it sets my teeth on edge, then i start fantasizing about ways to torture you with a hot mop and lose track of the conversation at hand. then you have to repeat everything, and in the process, you will call me "dearie" ten more times and so the vicious cycle begins.

5.) if you are at a casino, and there is a smoking and a non smoking section, and you are a non smoker who CHOOSES to sit in the smoking section, DO NOT , i repeat, DO NOT sit next me, doing the fake cough, waving your hands in front of your face, glaring at my marlboro the whole time. that doesn't make me put out my smoke. it just makes me chain smoke. and then i will follow you from slot machine to slot machine, puffing away the whole time. yeah, i'm a bitch like that.

6.) SUV'S ARE NOT COMPACT CARS AND DO NOT FIT IN COMPACT SPACES. hey, asshole, no one forced you to buy a car the size of my house. go park in a space that is big enough for your tank and leave the rest of us law abidding citizens alone. ooooo, you have to walk an extra thirty yards to get from the back of the lot to the front door of the grocery store? boo freakin' hoo. next time, buy a VW bug. and these are the same dipshits that are complaining about the high price of gas. you all have pissed me off so much, you made it onto today's list twice. and if your hair is cornrowed, then you have set a new world's record by being on here 3 times. but don't feel bad. i have enough petty hatred to go around.

Oy,These Kids and Their Music!!

2006-04-13T10:03:00.000-07:00

my post the other day about JackFM got me to thinking about music in general and i realized that i really have no clue what is going on in popular music today, for the most part. i tend to listen to my Duran Duran Greatest Hits cd and maybe some Thompson Twins to shake things up. see, even when i try to listen to popular music on the radio, it seems i am stymied. hand to god, everytime i turn on our Star radio station they are playing that godawful "You're Beautiful" song. that's this year's love song? is this the song all the frat boys are learning to play on guitar so they can use it to dupe drunk freshmen girls out of their virginity? it's the musical equivalent of CheezWhiz. it's manufactured for the masses, processed and provides instant gratification. but no one remembers that awesome Jalepeno CheezWhiz they had five years ago.just like no one will remember this song in five years.

so, i scampered over to iTunes to see what the top songs are nowadays. and i am kind of sorry i did. "Unwritten" by Natasha Somebody. oh, just shoot me now. i hate that supposedly motivational crap. i guarantee you right now, the next time we see that song it will be in some horrible teen movie. it's too mellow to be used during an "athlete in training to win the big game" montage, but i could see it being used in some movie about a nerdy girl who comes out of her shell, becomes a sexy little minx, all while still leading the Mathletes to victory. that song would SO be played during her "makeover/studying" montage.

then there is "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter. isn't this the song they play on American Idol when someone gets booted off the show? let's see, your ONE BIG chance at stardom is GONE! POOF! you are now on the fast-track to "Reality TV Has Been" status. you will forever be known as the singer that was WORSE than Ace. so, yeah, i guess you could say you had a "bad day."

at the bottom of the list, but still on the Top Ten is "Beep" by the Pussycat Dolls. god, the talent, the emotions, the vocal ranges, the years these girls must have spent taking voice lessons and training and opera and choir. they MUST have graduated from Julliard, no? i'm sorry? what? they didn't? shocking. just shocking. oh, they trained at the "gentleman's club" by the airport.? my bad.

the current state of pop music today just sucks ass. it really does. ten years ago, we had some great songs. "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morrisette. i mean, that is THE SINGLE GREATEST BREAKUP SONG IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD. there are a million "oh, baby, i can't live without you. why did you break my heart?" songs. but this was the first song to really tap into the rage of a breakup. the part of you that would pay good money to see your ex burned alive in an industrial accident. it taps into the part of you drives around the streets near his house, hoping you see him, just so you can run his sorry ass over. THAT is great music, people.

am i the only one that remembers and still listens to the band Live? "Lightning Crashes" ringing a bell for you there? hands down, the greatest song ever to use the word 'placenta' in the lyrics. don't think i'm right? i dare you to find a better song with that word in it. it can't be done.

remember when No Doubt was new and Gwen was cute in that skater girl way? i miss those days. now she is this fashion icon, carrying Gavin's baby and she has that weird Japanese posse. and what's this fucking song she sings about "If I Were A Rich Girl?" bitch, you ARE rich. and i don't appreciate you rubbing it in my face like that. and i'm sorry gwen, but if i hear "Hollaback Girl" one more time, i will drive my car into a brick wall just to make it stop. it's not a song, it's a fucking cheer. there is a difference.

*jelly walks away humming "The Reflex"*

She Doesn't Understand "SIT" But Dick Jokes, Those She Understands

2006-04-11T11:08:00.000-07:00

of the Two Assasins, aka my dogs Daphne and Roxie, only one of them really watches tv and that's Roxie. and not just when there are other dogs on tv. no, she is also enthralled by American Justice and one day i found her watching Columbo. she is very interested in tv and i think i caught her reprogramming my TiVo the other day. well, i sure as hell don't recall recording Footballer's Wives, so it must have been her. she obviously has a taste for the dramatic.

now, Daphne on the other hand. rarely pays attention to the tv. i think she is more the literary type, maybe. while i am at work all day she composes haikus extolling the virtues of kibble and Nylabones. then she eats the haikus. so, i never actually see the poetry, but i have to believe she has talents other than stealing my socks out of the laundry basket.

anywho, last night i was on the couch watching "An Evening With Kevin Smith." this is not the first time i have seen it, but it was Daphne's first time. because i have heard it before i was not laughing out loud or doing anything else that Daphne would be reacting to. i was sitting quietly and knitting. she, on the other hand, was RIVETED by him, just RIVETED. her eyes never left the screen.

at one point, Kevin Smith is telling the story of the first time her had sex with his now wife. and in classic Kevin Smith style, it's detailed and raunchy. when he gets to the part about his wife dry humping him so hard that the zipper in his jeans mangled his dick, that's when Daphne started wildly wagging her tail and barking at the tv. it takes Kevin about 6 minutes to tell the story and the whole time she is wag wag wagging her tail. i mean, i have to applaud her good taste as i am obviously a Kevin Smith fan myself, but the dick jokes? really? that's what floats her boat?

if i come tonight to find her watching my "Clerks" DVD she is going to be in big trouble.

Getting Jacked

2006-04-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

a little over a year ago, we got a new radio station in los angeles called JackFM. i know they are starting them in other cities all over the country, so if you have one, you know the joy that is Jack. if you don't, well it sucks to be you.

this station plays the most scizophrenic mix of music, but it is all songs you love. within one hour you will exclaim at least 4 times, "oh my god! i LOVE that song! i haven't heard it in forever!"

on a recent morning, they played these songs back to back:

girls, girls, girls by motley crue
true by spandau ballet
heard it thru the grapevine by marvin gaye
livin' on a prayer by bon jovi
nothing compares 2 u by sinead oconner

this is just MADNESS! on a scale of one to Courtney Love, they get an eight!

so many of these songs just take me RIGHT BACK to very particular times in my life. the other day they played "welcome to the jungle" and that song IS my senior year of high school. it is me and my friends ditching school (sorry, mom), driving around hollywood blvd, smoking cigarettes and listening to heather tell us all about her sex life. hey, mom, at least i was still a virgin and just living vicariously thru her. take your pride where you can find it.

then there is "the boy with the thorn in his side" by The Smiths. oh my god, that is me at 15, listening to that album on my turntable, clutching the record sleeve and just SOBBING because no one understood my teen agnst like Morrissey. he REALLY REALLY understood me.

which of course, takes us directly to "blasphemous rumours" by Depeche Mode. oh, that song was just so deep. the girl wants to commit suicide and then she finds a reason to live and gets hit by a bus and ends up on a life support machine. oh, the tragedy, the pathos, the PAIN. it was just SO VERY philosophical. we didn't need Socrates, we had Depeche mode. ok, it was the 80's, i was 16, that was as deep as i got.

on to happier times....."end of the innocence" by don henley. (mom STOP READING NOW and DO NOT read this to granny) ah yes, that song is me making out with the hottest guy i ever dated. and we were both stone cold sober, so i have no clue why he was dating me, but i didn't ask too many questions. i was just enjoying the ride. we didn't actually have sex, and god knows, if we had, my head would have actually burst into flames. memories of that night got me thru many a dry spell. good times. good times. yeah, you might need to give me a minute here.

where was i?

oh, that radio station.

that's it.

when they play "are you gonna go my way?" by Lenny Kravitz, i am 25 years old again, back at the Rainbow on Sunset Blvd, drunker than humanly possible and dancing my ass off with my friends. you never had to worry about being "falling down drunk" on that dance floor because it was always so crowded, you could not fall down. it was wall to wall people and if you lost your footing, you just swayed a little and the 45 bodies around you kept you propped up. and that was only after 2 drinks. see, the Rainbow is nortorious for making the stongest, nastiest drinks in all of LA. so, of course, we were there 3 nights a week. you order a screwdriver there and the bartender pours vodka, vodka and more vodka into a tall glass. then he adds just a spritz of orange juice.

ah, nostalgia. i'm gonna go dust off my Cure albums now and put on some smudgy, black eyeliner.

Tears of a Clown

2006-03-27T19:13:00.000-08:00

next to me are 8, yes, count them, 8, soggy, sodden, snot filled kleenex. now you are probably asking yourself, what brought on such a crying jag?

did someone near and dear to me pass away?

no.

did i lose my left hand in a tragic paper shredding accident, thus rendering me unable to knit ever again?

no.

did someone change the constitution so that bush can now run for a 3rd term?

no.

i just finished watching "Billy Elliot" for the 3,872nd time. and i cried just as hard as i did the first 3,871 times. i start blubbering about an hour into that movie and just do not stop. if you ever want me to burst into tears on the spot, just utter this one line. when Billy is leaving, and his little gay friend, Michael, stands on the wall and yells, "Oy! Dancing boy!" at that point i am crying so hard that i lose my vision and stop breathing.

sounds a little dramatic, i know, but i have always had strong reactions to sad movies. and even some not so sad ones. when i was little i HAD TO see every Benji movie. and my mother dreaded those movies like paris hilton dreads a pap smear. i would just BAWL all the way thru those movies. and she would sit there with me in the theater, passing me kleenex and apologizing the other moviegoers around us for the spectacle i was making. the worst was "For the Love of Benji." you know, the one where the family goes to greece, and benji gets lost, and no one will feed him, and he meets a little girly dog, and she becomes his little girlfriend, and he steals the sausage from the outdoor market so she can eat, and the whole time the bad guy wants to put an evil computer chip in benji's lil paw? you know, that one. shit, i teared up just writing that.

the worst i ever embarasseed her was at "E.T." i was about 12 years old and my older brother had already seen the movie. he knew mom was taking me to see it and he felt honor bound to warn her. he told, "mom, i hate to ruin the movie for you, but there is something you have to know. ET is going to die and Jelly is going to lose her mind. but, you have to tell her that he will come back to life."

mom thanked him for the heads up, and we went on our merry way.

yup, sure enough, ET dies and i am in FULL BLOWN HYSTERICS. i am talking heaving body sobs and almost screaming. my mom leans over and tries to whisper to me, "it's ok. he is going to live. he will be ok. your brother told me. it's going to be ok." (please note that these are not my memories, this is only what i have been told because i was SO FUCKING HYSTERICAL that i honestly have no memory of any this.) so, she is trying to whisper this to me to calm me down, but she doesn't want anyone else to hear.

this is when the usher comes down the aisle and asks my mom if she needs to remove me from the theater. my mom assures him that she has this under control (yeah, right) and she pinches me HARD to get my attention and tell me that ET is going to live. at some point, it must have sank in and i calmed down.

and then we get to the end of movie and ET leaves, phones home and all that. and i am right back to square one. i was EXHAUSTED when that movie was over.

that was more than 20 years ago, and i can't say i have gotten much better. at least i have learned to watch the sad movies at home. and that is partly due to vanity. see, i am not one of these women that looks beautiful, haunted and tragic when she cries. nope. my whole face turns red, my eyes swell shut into little slits and my nose just does not stop running. oh so pretty.

thank god for Netflix is all i'm saying.

We Keep His Balls In A Glass Jar in the Pantry

2006-03-12T19:39:00.000-08:00

pity Poor Jim. he is my best friend of a bajillion years. we practically grew up together. Poor Jim is married and has 3 three beautiful daughters. he is drowning in a sea of estrogen.

he USED to be manly. he hung out with his buds, drank beer, pumped iron and watched sports. slowly, but noticeably, over the years, we have castrated him. now, he knows the names of all the Powerpuff Girls and can probably do nicer french braids than i can.

we were talking on the phone friday night, and he was telling me that a few days ago his wife was being a raging, hormonal, monster. he said, "i don't understand it. when we got married, she said she never got PMS."

i said, "and you BELIEVED her?" (insert me laughing hysterically for 10 minutes) dude, we ALL say that. otherwise we would never get another date. just operate under the assumption that all women are psycho hose beasts at least two days a month and you will be fine. damn, just wait until your daughters start in with PMS."

"one of them already is. there are days where she is nagging and bitchy."

"you are just five years away from going on an Iron Man retreat, aren't you? i can just see you, naked in the woods, playing bongos around a campfire, crying because the women in your life don't understand you."

"yup."

I Heart Irony

2006-03-08T10:57:00.000-08:00

this pic was taken earlier this week at a party to promote awareness of global poverty.

is anyone else scared that Lindsey Lohan is skinnier than the starving African kids in this pic?

the kids probably thought they were at a party to raise money to buy the skinny white girl some Twinkies. then they saw her $800 Manolos and got confused.

Hi, My Name is Jelly and my Mom Thinks I Am an Alcoholic

2006-03-07T21:51:00.000-08:00

i will freely admit that i have one, sometimes two, drink(s) at night before i go to bed. it's to keep my heart healthy, you know. really. that and i have an unnatural love of Stoli Vanil vodka. i mean, have you tasted this stuff? it's like happy in a bottle.

i also have a large Big Gulp type cup that i fill with regular diet coke. i need the caffeine to sleep. i drink so much diet coke all day long that another 44 ounces at bedtime has zero effect on me. the kidney stones make a lot more sense now, don't they?

but, my drinks i make in a regular size drinking cup. so, every night i am juggling two cups. the mondo sized diet coke and the NORMAL sized cup for my tipple.

the other night, i was filling the 44 ouncer and pulled a classic butter finger move and spilled the whole damn thing all over the kitchen counter. huge mess. as i was mopping it up, my mom asked, "did that have booze in it?"

so, mom thinks i am filling the aquarium sized cup with vodka. nice. i guess if i want to walk around the house with a bottle of Stoli and straw, no one would be really surprised. it's nice to know i have that kind of freedom.

cheers.

Country CrapFest

2006-02-28T21:27:00.000-08:00

i am generally not a fan of country music. however, i do like garth brooks and a few songs of reba's. and THAT IS IT. the rest is just twangy, schmaltzy, emotionally manipulative CRAP. absolute crap. when i die and go to hell, my iPod will only play Patsy Cline. that is going to be my punishment for making fun of fat girls in skinny clothes. and i am prepared for that.

the other day, i was channel surfing and came across the Country Music network. now, i would not even have known this channel part of my cable package, but they had a show with John Mayer on it and my Tivo picked it up. good Tivo. good Tivo.

i saw a video by a "band" called Rascal Flatts. i think the song was called "Skin" but i don't care enough to google it and find out for sure. now, country music videos have ZERO imagination and they merely recreate the song. yawn. this one in particular was especially nauseating. the song is about a young girl that gets cancer, loses her hair and dreams of going to her prom. i have seen Lifetime movies with more depth than this shit. in the video we see the girl get the diagnosis, lose her hair and then her prom date picks her up and he has shaved his head in solidarity with her so she will not feel so awkward.

now, one of the many, many problems i had with this video was how they depicted the girl. she looked exactly the same at the beginning as she did at the end, only bald. they did not even try to make her look sicker, thinner, etc... basically, she looked like a bald female beach volleyball player. it's like they want to tug at your heartstrings, but in too realistic a way, because apparently, THAT would be a buzzkill. it was so fucking stupid it put me right off my Hot Pocket.

further viewing of this network lead to further bullshit. these country music stars try oh so hard to depict a "i'm just a down to earth good ol' boy" image. they are all about the "i am just like you, america." illusion. dude, you make 45 gazillion dollars a year. i am guessing you have not scrubbed your own toilet in 12 years. shut the hell up and let me get back to clipping Lean Cuisine coupons.

the heart of america, my ass.

Hearts, Candy and Prison Rape

2006-02-23T21:58:00.000-08:00

by nature, i am not a romantic gal. flowers and candy do nothing for me. and the thought of a long walk on the beach makes me think more about sand fleas than romance. you wanna make my heart flutter? buy me yarn. wanna get me naked? buy me a kate spade purse. that's the way to my obviously two sizes too small heart.

so, naturally, my reading selection DOES NOT include romance novels. i prefer true crime, memoirs and essays. and occasionally, some good angst ridden fiction. i recently started reading the "Outlander" series by Diana Gabaldon. and i am hooked like a junkie let loose in a pharmacy. the story centers around a woman in 1945 that time travels back to 1745. and, yes, she does fall in love along the way, but the books are so much more than a love story. the characters are vivid and the writing is superb.

however, these books are classified as Romance and now i find myself skulking around the Romance section of the bookstore buying these books. i run in, do a quick scan, find the next book in the series and bolt out to the Social Sciences section before anyone spots me in there. i want to order the rest of the series thru Amazon just to avoid the dreaded Romance section, but then my "Amazon Recommendations for You" will include books with oily, muscled men and heaving bosoms on the cover and that might piss me off more. it's a lose/lose situation, i fear.

but maybe i am being judgemental. at the end of the first book, one of the characters describes, in vivid detail, the anal rape he suffered while imprisoned. and i do mean VIVID detail. so, if that makes this a Romance novel, maybe all those other books aren't so bad. if i can find a novel that outlines Fabio's anal rape and degredation, i might just spend more time in the Romance section.

So I Was Wrong About the Mittelschmerz

2006-02-21T22:40:00.000-08:00

that horrid pain last week that i chalked up to my Mittelschmerz. not so much it turns out. it was kidney stones. now, let me tell you, that is an experience that i WOULD wish on my worst enemy. i was praying for the release of sweet, sweet death. i would rather get my tongue tattooed than EVER live thru that again. and not one of those outline, easy tattoos. no, i am talking about a full on, colored in dragon tattoo with flames and everything. what kind of sick joke is mother nature playing? peeing out a pebble? that's just wrong on every level.

when the pain started, i thought it was a bladder infection. but then it got worse. so i Googled my symptoms and came to the conclusion that i either had kidney stones or an enlarged prostate. kidney stones seemed most likely. then i got really scared. see, i saw pics of some kidney stones. some of those little fuckers had JAGGED EDGES. that just makes your private parts pucker, doesn't it?

in order to stave off another episode of my body passing a geological specimen, i have drunk approximately 12,567 gallons of water in the last week. this is not fun.

so, now, whenever someone pisses me off i look at them and hex them with The Curse of Kidney Stones. so you better mind your p's and q's around me.

Oy Vey, My Mittelschmerz Is Acting Up Again

2006-02-13T20:11:00.000-08:00

i guess chronic, stabbing pain in my side isn't too bad if it has a fun name like mittelschmerz. for those of you not in the know, that's painful ovulation. emphasis on the "painful."

couple this with the fact that my body has a VERY strong urge to procreate during ovulation (ok, yes, i was horny. but i didn't want to come out and say that because sometimes my mom reads my blog to my granny. so, mom, when you do read her this one, skip the parentheticals, ok?) so i spent the majority of the day popping motrins like tic tacs and oogling men on the street.

the mittelschmerz is like mother nature getting even with me. i don't get cramps and my periods are usually fairly light and manangeable. but ovulating is a BITCH. i mean. REALLY, how big is this egg my body is trying to pass? is it like a jumbo AA farm fresh egg? god, now i know how a chicken feels. no wonder they are always so peckish. (god, i slay me.)

you really did want to know this much about me, didn't you?

Pass The Disinfectant, STAT!

2006-02-11T21:04:00.000-08:00

mom and i strolled into Brookstone today. they are the home of all things useless but lustworthy. Roombas, massage chairs and squishy pillows galore. i don't even know how they stay in business, because whenever i go in there all i see is people lounging in the massage chairs, but no one is ever buying anything.

you always have to wait to get into the massage chairs because they are all occupied. and it chaps my ass when i see a 12 year old hogging up one of the good chairs. for god's sake, skippy, you are 12, how knotted up and stressed out can you be?

today, i pateintly waited my turn (no, really, it's true) and plopped my happy ass into one of the deluxe $4000 massage chairs. oh, baby! i loved this one so much i am going to name it Ricky and marry it. full body massage, head to toe and you don't even have to get naked and touched by a big woman named Helga. anything that can help me avoid getting naked in front of strangers is always a good thing. i have naked issues, you know.

but, before we walked into the store, we looked in the window and saw this new, uber cool foot massager thingy. it massages your feet and lower legs. well, it was uber cool until we saw the display model. some old dude was using it. he had slipped off his sandals and stuck his bare feet in there. ugly, gnarled, dirty old man feet. complete with nasty yellow toe nails. *gack*

so consider this your PSA for the day. skip the foot massager. unless you want athlete's foot. and if you do, go ahead, knock yourself out. but none for me, thanks.

Free Gift with Purchase?

2006-02-05T19:35:00.000-08:00

yesterday, i went to my local Blockbuster to rent a few movies. because it was Saturday night and i have no life. so, i get "Hustle&Flow," "The Aristocrats," and "The 40 Year Old Virgin." i watched the virgin movie first and it was funny. not "pee your pants, crack a rib laughing" funny, but i chuckled a few times.

then i decide to watch "Hustle&Flow" because i wanted a feel good movie. so, i open the DVD case and find a toy surprise in this one.

yup, somebody left weed in the DVD case.

i suppose i should just be glad there wasn't a used condom in "The 40 Year Old Virgin" case.

Jelly, Interrupted

2006-02-01T21:24:00.000-08:00

they talk a lot. they talk all the time. they talk like it was on olympic event. they never stop talking. and by "they" i mean "my family." they will talk right over you like you never opened your mouth. and by "you" i mean "me."

i grew up in a family of talkers. if they have something to say, by god, they are going to say it. and in that environment, you either sink or swim. i sunk. i never learned how to keep talking and make myself heard. this could be an actual conversation in my house:

jelly: "oh my god. my hair is ON FIRE! someone call 9-1-"

granny: "did i tell you what the neighbor did? he had the nerve to put his trash cans in my driveway and leave them there for 2 days. i am going to report him!"

jelly: "me. hair. fire."

granny: "i tell you, one of these days i am going to put my trash cans in his driveway and leave them there for THREE days. just let him tell me something!"

as a result of this, i have developed the really bad habit of repeating myself. especially if what i just said has not been acknowledged. i know this is really annoying, but i just can't seem to stop.

as a result of this, i have developed the really bad habit of repeating myself. especially if what i just said has not been acknowledged. i know this is really annoying, but i just can't seem to stop.

i bet if i won the lotto, they would hear that! and when i do win that big jackpot, my first purchase is going to be a megaphone.

Suckered in by Yet ANOTHER Infomercial

2006-01-26T22:06:00.000-08:00

What is it about 3am that makes me think I need every product shown on every informercial? Every infomercial I see, I am convinced that my life will be incomplete unless I own the latest, bestest toy. Except for the midgets hawking the real estate package. They scare me. They scare me bad.

You think I would have learned my lesson with the pancake flipper from 2003. I was CONVINCED that was the secret to curing my inability to make pancakes. THIS was the product that would allow me to enjoy pancakes whenever I wanted, not just when I went to Denny’s. I would finally master the art of the pancake. The year it came out I begged and pleaded with my family and convinced them that I would just DIE if I didn’t get one for my birthday.

I got one. And guess what? I still can’t make a fucking pancake to save my life. And it only allows you to make one pancake at a time. So I ended up with one room temp burned pancake and one piping hot burned pancake. Hey, I never claimed this was Jelly’s House of Haute cuisine.

Once again I fell prey to siren song of the overly enthusiastic, CALL NOW OR HATE YOURSELF LATER! 30 minute commercial. This time it was the Spin Spa. The promise of an exfoliating machine was more than I could resist. See, I am not an amateur exfoliator. Oh no, I gave up my Olypmic standing years ago. I am a PROFESSIONAL exfoliator. I have scrubby gloves, back brushes, loofahs and body scrubs coming out of my ears. Speaking of ears, I even exfoliate behind my ears. That’s commitment, baby.

The Spin Spa is like a back brush with 5 detachable heads. It comes with scrubby brush heads, micro dermabrasion brush heads, pumice heads and massaging heads. When I first saw the infomercial my vision got a little blurry and my heart started racing. Was it possible? All my exfoliating dreams come true in one nifty package for only $19.95? It was like xmas, my birthday and John Mayer’s birthday all wrapped into one sweet, sweet package.

So I ordered it and every single day, I raced home and checked my mail. After 3 weeks of waiting, it finally came. Oh, happy day. I tore that package open and beheld the glory that is the Spin Spa. The glory was short lived.

I installed the batteries and hopped into the shower with my new toy. (That sentence could have such a dirty double entendre. If you had a filthy mind. Which I don’t.) I attached the micro dermabrasion head and went to work on my face. The problem is the micro derm head is HUGE and my face is not. It felt like I was scrubbing my face with a plate.

The spinning action was a little slow for my tastes, quite frankly. I am a VIGOROUS exfoliator and this thing was spinning at the speed of molasses. But I made do and kept spinning.

Ok, no worries. Onto the body scrubber head. I am in the shower, so I am naked, wet and vulnerable. After a minute of scrubbing, the head came flying off and whacked me in a very naked, wet and vulnerable place.

Never being one to give up, I moved on to the pumice head. Now this one was actually quite useful and is the only reason I am keeping the damn machine. It works great on my feet and because of the length of the machine, I don’t have to do pretzel contortions in the shower to get to my feet.

SIGH

When will learn that informercial products can never live up to the heady promises they make? Probably after I order that new pasta cooker that looks like a big tube and cooks the pasta without ever having to touch a stove.

And apropos of nothing, this is my 100th blog entry.

A Rare, But Beautiful Moment

2006-01-24T08:23:00.000-08:00

even on the best days, LA traffic is a nightmare. i only have a 12 mile commute, but it still takes me almost an hour to drive to work in the morning. last night, i left work at 7:30pm and STILL had to sit in traffic. it just never lets up. although, some days are easier than others.

then there are days like today. every person in the Valley just lost their freakin' minds and completely forgot everything they learned in Drivers Ed. blinkers? nah, we don't need no stinkin' blinkers! haven't these people seen "Blood on the Highway" or "Red Gravel?" it was Death Match 3000 out there this morning! i felt like i needed a crash helmet and one of those nets inside the cars like they do in NASCAR.

one car in particular was just pissing me off. i first spotted him while i was in line to get on the freeway. he just went zipping past the line in the carpool lane. but he was no carpool. he was by himself. asshole. Mr. OhTheRulesDon'tApplyToMe! "ooooo, i drive a silver beamer, so i am just that much more special." fucktard.

i saw him a few more times on the freeway just changing lanes willy nilly, never using his blinker and just being a general menace.

ten minutes later, there he was. on the side of the road. pulled over by the Highway Patrol.

it was flippin' sweet.

it could have only been better if he had been facedown in the gravel with that cop's boot in his neck and a canine cop nipping at his balls. but hey, i'll take my joy where i can find it.

And The 5 Year Old Told Me To Keep My Day Job

2006-01-16T22:15:00.000-08:00

on saturday, mom and i took my goddaughter and her sisters to Disneyland. it's an annual tradition and we always have a great day. except for the rain. every fucking year, it rains on the day we go to Disneyland. no, we don't live in Seattle. we live in LOS ANGELES. where we have, at most, like 12 rain days per year. but we always get rained on, no matter which day we pick to go. so next time california has a drought, we will plan a trip to the Happiest Place on Earth, and the skies will open and the whole state will be forever indebted to us. sounds like a plan to me.

the upside to going to Disneyland in the rain is that the park is fairly empty and we didn't have to wait more then 20 minutes in line for any ride. we rode about 12 rides and had a BLAST.

except for the Jungle Cruise. mom and i had to get ghetto on some indonesian tourists while we were in that line. we were walking down the steps and these people tried to cut in line in front of the kids. um. no i DON'T think so! i won't relate exactly what we said to them, but needless to say, i don't think they will find "rude motherfuckers" in their Indonesian to English dictionaries.

particularly popular is the Haunted Mansion, especially from Oct-Jan because they convert it to a "Nightmare Before Christmas" Haunted Mansion and it is decked out in all things Jack, Sally and Ooogie Boogie. while in line, they pipe in the movie soundtrack over the loudspeakers. when "Kidnap the Sandy Claws" came on, i was happily singing along. not so loud that i was making a spectacle of myself, just loud enough so that Samantha, age 5 (the youngest) could hear me. i am well aware of the fact that i am not exactly the next American Idol, but that doesn't stop me.

she looked at me and said, "could you sing it better?"

i told her, "um, no, actually, i can't."

now, normally, a comment like that is enough to get someone on the "Dead to Jelly List" right quick. but, this kid gets a free pass for life. and not just because she is cuter than kitten whiskers. no, she is double jointed and will do weird, bendy things with her hands on command.

i mean, REALLY! look at her index fingers! can you do that? no? didn't think so.

just look at that thumb! all the way back, baby! ok, so it doesn't take a whole lot to amuse me, but you have to admit, that is pretty cool.

now, here she is, being her normally cute, non-bendy self. look at that face. that makes a day in the rain TOTALLY worth it.

the Unholy Smell will be back to it's regular, snarky bitchy self later this week.

I Love My THING! Don't You Love My THING?

2006-01-08T17:16:00.000-08:00

i was gonna make this long story short, but fuck it, i am feeling verbose.

this afternoon, i went to brunch with my mom and her best friend, Carolyn. it was the champagne brunch at Acapulco. seeing as i was driving, i didn't imbibe, but they did. they had nice buzzes and we were all laughing and having a good time. we do love our champagne brunches around here.

we left the restaurant and were headed to our next destination. merrily driving down ventura blvd, i spotted some fire trucks coming our way, so i stopped. the lady behind me did not and she slammed right into my car. my mom jumped out of my car so fast i thought she was gonna go back there and beat the shit out of this woman. don't fuck with MamaJelly and you REALLY don't fuck with her kids. i thought, "oh god, mom's drunk on a sunday afternoon and she's gonna get into a brawl in the middle of the street."

luckily, she was just getting out to stop traffic in the other lanes so we could all pull into a gas station and do the info exchange. so we do all that, blah, blah, blah.

needless to say, i was not in the mood to go shopping, so we just headed for home. i don't know about you, but getting slammed by a Ford Focus kind of sucks the fun out of the rest of the afternoon for me.

on the way home, we passed by a strip mall that we never go to. just one of those generic, 7/11-Indian Spices-98Cent Mart-Video Store type malls. we always say we are going to stop and check out the Indian place, but we never do. i was feeling whimsical, so i said, "fuck it. we're going in."

first we went to the 98Cent Mart, because those places are always good for a few whacky products. they did not disappoint today.

ok, so i really suck at taking photos, but the package reads, "Bath Massage Thing - The health care thing steps into a new century." it's a sponge, people. no, i am sorry, it is my bath massage thing. i LOVE products made in China!

then we traipse off to the Indian Spice place. they had tons of authentic, unidentifiable Indian foods and spices and condiments. the jar of clarified butter was a little scary, but otherwise, the place was pretty interesting.

then i found the "authentic" Indian breads.

yes, that is the Pillsbury DoughBoy. authentic Indian cusine meets American frozen food convenience.

and it comes in poppin' fresh varieties, too.

i also bought some curry flavored top ramen. it is honest to goodness top ramen. just further proof that every culture has slack ass/can't cook for shit/kitchen retards like myself.

If Looks Could Kill, That Bitch Would Be DEAD

2006-01-07T19:29:00.000-08:00

my one vanity is my nails. i might wear frumpy clothes, or have a less than stellar hair style, but you will NEVER, and yes, i said, NEVER, see me with a broken or unpolished nail. just ain't gonna happen, my friend. i get a mani and pedi every two weeks. come hell or high water, my nails are gonna look good, dammit! even when i have been out of work, i have always managed to scrounge up the money for this, with the rationale that my nails have to look good in case i had an interview. i can justify any frivolous expense.

this afternoon, i had my nail appointment at 1pm. at 12:25pm, Lisa, my manicurist, called me at home and asked if i could come in right away. i agreed, figuring she was trying to leave early, and it's not like i was doing anything, anyway. so i throw on some clothes and haul ass down there.

i walked into the salon at 12:40pm and saw Lisa working on someone else's nails. i asked what was going on and Lisa explained that she thought she was free from 12:30-1pm, but had forgotten that this other lady had an appointment. i was mildly irritated, but not raging mad or anything. i told her i would go for a walk and come back at 1pm. so, i returned at 12:55pm and Lisa was almost done with the other lady and told me it would only be a few minutes more. i sat near her station to wait. the expression on my face was less than pleasant, i guess, because, then the woman who was getting her nails done says to Lisa, "what's her problem? what's the big deal?"

my head whipped around so fast, i almost got whiplash. this bitch has the nerve to talk about me like i suddenly went deaf and wouldn't hear? I.DON'T.THINK.SO. i glared at her so hard i am surprised she didn't burst into flames on the spot. i mean, REALLY! Lisa explained her faux pas and the lady shrugged it off like i was being an asshole for being a little miffed at being put out and rushed for nothing. fuck her. and her ugly ass brown pants and turquoise cowboy boots.

then after she FINALLY left, she came back 10 minutes later because she had fucked up one of her nails and wanted Lisa to fix it right away. Lisa at least had the good sense to tell her to wait until i was done. otherwise, this story would end with me in jail and her with one of her own turquoise cowboy boots up her own ass.

A Combined IQ of 12

2006-01-01T11:30:00.000-08:00

mom and i just went into the front yard for a few minutes. we don't let the dogs into the front yard, but if they go out the back door, they can run around the side and still see us from one of the side fences. so, as we are walking out the front door, mom tells them to go out back. and she says to me, "we will see how smart they are."

we go outside and there they were. it was unanimously decided that they are indeed, smarter than the average bear.

we however, are not.

go back to the front door to find that we had locked ourselves out.

Damn, I Never Get Tired of Talking About Myself

2005-12-29T11:14:00.000-08:00

i got tagged by radiovixen.com, and i know you all are RIVETED by the details of my exciting life, so read on and wish you were me.

Four jobs you've had in your life:
1.) cashier at House of Fabrics - aka the Seventh Ring of Hell
2.) customer service manager for a mail order company - my therapist won't let let me talk about this job if i am unmedicated.
3.) god, i can't believe i am admitting to this, but i was once one of the people in the mall that ask you to take surveys. please don't hate me.
4.) cashier at a cafeteria. most miserable job, ever. this was in my early 20's when i was going out to bars with my friends 4 nights a week. i would stay out until 4am and go to work at 6am. often, i would fall asleep with my face on the cash register and wake up to find button imprints on my face. surprisngly, i was never made Employee of the Month.

Four movies you could watch over and over:
1.) sixteen candles - two words. Jake Ryan.
2.) rebecca - is it wrong that Mrs. Danvers is my role model?
3.) breakfast club - i still haven't resolved my teen angst issues, apparently.
4.) clerks - still makes me laugh, 2546 viewings later.

Four places you've lived:
1.) los angeles - as my friend martha jean says, that's it. that's the list. been here my whole life.

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1.) 24 - i just recently got into this show. jack bauer gives me girl wood. oh, and it's a good show, too. yeah.
2.) Arrested Development - can't watch this without Tivo because i keep having to rewind and make sure i heard what i thougt i heard. but, buster does NOT give me girl wood.
3.) L O S T - yeah, i'm hooked. shoot me before i start analyzing the meaning of Walt's orange shirt. does that mean he is dead and in the fiery flames of hell? or does it mean he is being hidden in an orange grove? oooooo, too many theories, my head hurts.
4.) Degrassi: the Next Generation - i really have issues with teen drama shows. god, i need help.

Four websites you visit daily:
1.) dooce.com - DUH, who doesn't?
2.) knittinghelp.com - the greatest knitting web site in the whole wide world. another gem that radiovixen.com turned me on to and i am forever grateful.
3.) there's this John Mayer message board that i read but don't post on. lots of pics. it's my daily porn.
4.) eBay - always looking for those yarn deals.

Four of your favorite foods:
1.) french fries - hot, greasy, lightly salted. yum.
2.) John Mayer's Forearms - hot, greasy, lightly salted. yum
3.) Nacho Chesse Doritos - i can eat my body weight in these. it's a proven fact.
4.) refried beans - i can eat these every day and often do. damn, now i'm hungry.

Four places you'd rather be:
1.) London
2.) New York
3.) my bed
4.) John Mayer's bed (oh c'mon, who didn't see that one coming?)

Four albums you can't live without:
1.) Duran Duran - Greatest Hits
2.) Guns N' Roses - Appetite for Destruction
3.) The Killers - Hot Fuss
4.) INXS - Listen Like Thieves

Why It's A Good Thing I Don't Want Kids - Reason #4587

2005-12-28T10:34:00.000-08:00

i decided that if i ever did have a kid, i would name it RikiTikiTavi, just like the mongoose. and i don't care if it's a boy or a girl, it's name would be RikiTikiTavi. and i would NOT let people call it Riki. nope, i would force them to say the whole thing.

go on, say it. it's really fun. RikiTikiTavi. now, you will be saying it all day. it's addictive.

Tag! I'm It!

2005-12-20T21:11:00.000-08:00

ok, since no one in the blogosphere cares enough to tag me *sniff sniff* i am tagging myself. that and i am just lazy right now.

TEN RANDOM THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT ME
1.) one of my top 3 favorite songs of all time is "dragula" by rob zombie.
2.) my feet are abnormally large considering my height.
3.) i can't watch movies that have bugs in them.
4.) i only buy juvenile sheets (tweety, nemo, winnie the pooh, etc.)
5.) i am a compulsive knitter and for me, surfing online yarn stores is like a 16 year old boy surfing for porn.
6.) no one has seen my natural hair color in 16 years.
7.) i am a staunch liberal who believes in the death penalty.
8.) i am addicted to "text twist."
9.) i have 2 tattoos.
10.) my tivo is my bestest friend in the whole wide world.

NINE PLACES I HAVE VISITED
1.) beirut, lebanon
2.) atlanta, georgia
3.) boston, mass
4.) hawaii
5.) new york
6.) washington dc
7.) san francisco, ca
8.) iowa
9.) minnesota

EIGHT WAYS TO WIN MY HEART
1.) buy me yarn or nacho cheese doritos
2.) quote "arrested development" lines to me
3.) know exactly what i mean when i say, "i am having a mrs. danvers kind of day."
4.) rub my shoulders
5.) cook for me.
6.) send me text messages when you see that john mayer is going to be on tv.
7.) oh hell, just be john mayer.
8.) laugh at my stupid jokes.

SEVEN THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE
1.) touch john mayer's forearms.
2.) go to London.
3.) talk to john irving.
4.) be able to wear a size 8 for more than one week.
5.) win the lotto.
6.) caress john mayer's forearms.
7.) lick john mayer's forearms.

SIX THINGS I AM AFRAID OF
1.) getting headlice from a movie theater seat.
2.) bridges
3.) falling
4.) having stuff fall on me
5.) fire
6.) big rig trucks

FIVE THINGS I DON'T LIKE
1.) steak
2.) mushrooms
3.) seafood
4.) coconut
5.) nuts

FOUR WAYS TO TURN ME OFF
1.) BO
2.) nose hair
3.) vote republican
4.) chew with your mouth open

THREE THINGS I DO EVERYDAY
1.) clean my toenails
2.) moisturize
3.) read

TWO THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY
1.) john mayer's forearms
2.) french fries

ONE THING ON MY MIND RIGHT NOW
1.) i need to blow dry my hair before it air dries all funky

Oh Lord, Please Let Him Be Single!!

2005-12-16T20:37:00.000-08:00

he's so money and he doesn't even know it.

of course, from now on, every time i see a food service person without the beard condom, i will wonder if their facial hair is in my food.

this pic was sent to me by my friend, Sherri. i now have friends and family doing guerilla photography for me. i am such a bad influence.

I SWEAR I Don't Live in the Ghetto

2005-12-13T18:39:00.000-08:00

at 2am on Monday morning i was snuggled in my blankies, dreaming of john mayer's forearms and a bottle of Reddi-Whip. the puppies were sleeping at my feet and all was well in my world. then, BOOM BOOM CRASH BOOM. this scared the crap out of me and the pups. the dogs jumped onto my chest and started barking like maniacs. ouch.

i ran outside to see what was going on. apparently, a police chase had ended right in front of my house. i saw a truck turned over on it's side and two cop cars. the truck had hit one of my neighbor's trucks and totally creamed it. all his tools that had been in the back were now scattered all over the street. now, this particular neighbor is rumored to film porn movies in his house. this is really not all that shocking as we are in the San fernando Valley, the Porn Capital of the USA. i'm just glad the tools in the truck were from his day job and not from this other line of work. really, who wants to see dildoes and cock rings all over their street at 2am?

so, there i am looking like 10 miles of dead sexy in my bunny print pajama bottoms and my Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt. i'm just glad the news cameras weren't there yet, because you just know that's the shot of me that would be on the next morning's newscast.

the cops shoo us all back into our houses. i go back inside and the dogs are FLIPPING OUT. my poor puppies were born in the sticks and spent the first 7 months of their lives in relative peace and quiet. now they have to learn to live with high speed police chases. it's been a bit of an adjustment for them. but in six months time, when the cops bust the porn neighbor, i know the pups will be able to sleep right thru all the commotion. that's my hope, anyway.

Ok, Who Set the Time Machine for 1974?

2005-12-08T23:06:00.000-08:00

i actually saw this in a local restaurant this week.

There is a 2 Drink Minimum in My Family

2005-12-05T21:24:00.000-08:00

Apparently, the drinking gene skipped a generation in my family. My great-grandmother, mother and I can all drink like fish. My granny, not so much. She doesn’t like the taste of alcohol and almost never drinks. But the few times she has gotten drunk have been memorable, to say the least.

When I was 5 years old, she took me with her to a friend’s wedding. Granny had like maybe 3 glasses of champagne and was hammered. Because the church was close to the house, we had walked there. On the walk home, granny was lurching from telephone pole to telephone pole, barely able to walk. And always being the little helper that I am, I was skipping down the street ahead of her, singing at the top of my lungs, “Grandma’s drunk! Grandma’s drunk!” I am sure the neighbors appreciated my town crier impersonation at 11 0’clock at night.

The only other time she got rip roaring drunk was about 20 years ago, she and grandpa went out to a bar with another couple. The wife told my granny that Singapore Slings tasted just like punch, and she should try those. Well, she did and she liked them. Liked them so much, she drank them all night long. She says she didn’t feel drunk at all and thought she had finally found a drink she could tolerate. Until she stood up. Then she knew she was blitzed. (isn’t that a great feeling?)

Grandpa drove her home in his 1965 Mustang and while he was on Sunset Blvd. another car gunned it’s engine. Granny took this as a challenge and turned to my grandpa and said, “Race him, Louie! You can beat him!” The thought of my grandparents drag racing down Sunset Blvd. on a Saturday night is almost more than I can bear.

That pretty much ended her illustrious drinking career. She now has zero tolerance for alcohol. A few years ago she spent the night at my house. I had drank one of my famous white trash martinis (diet vanilla coke and vanilla vodka) before bed and left the glass on the counter. There was no booze in it, just the melting ice. After I went to bed, granny decided she wanted a glass of water. Being raised during the Depression, she learned to never waste anything. So, when she spied my glass with the ice on the counter, she put the ice in her water. She didn’t know there had been alcohol in that cup, she just thought I had drank a regular soda. Now, there had to be maybe 1/8 of a tablespoon worth of booze in that cup. Not enough to get a kitten trashed, but it was enough for granny. She wasn’t really hammered, but when she woke up the next morning, she told me she has slept so good! She didn’t know why she did, just that she slept like a baby. Then I saw my glass was in the sink and asked if she put it there. That’s when she told me about the ice and I realized she had unintentionally had herself a little night cap.

So, there are some hard learned drinking lessons that she doesn’t know about.

1.) Cool Ranch Doritos taste the same coming back up as they do going down.
2.) Three bottles of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill will make your puke pink.
3.) Tequila shots are NEVER a good idea. Ever.
4.) After 5 martinis, you will lose all inhibitions about peeing in public.
5.) Girls cannot pee in public without getting their shoes wet.
6.) Real friends will hold back your hair when you are puking out the window of a moving car.
7.) Projectile vomit travels faster than the speed of light.
8.) If you fall out of bed after drinking 7 Lemon drop martinis, you will not even feel the landing.
9.) I am an AWESOME singer when I am hammered.
10.) The only cure for a hangover is nasty, greasy fried food.

So, obviously, my granny is fairly ignorant in the ways of hangover foods and cures. Saturday night we went to a wedding and my mom and I got shit faced. It wasn’t pretty. Just ask the limo driver or whatever poor sap gets to clean up the mess I left in that car. Not to be too gross, but let’s just say that I woke up Sunday morning with a 100% EMPTY stomach.

The next morning, I make my way to mom and granny’s hotel room to find my mom looking like 12 miles of bad road. We were twins. And both desperately in need of some greasy, fried food to cure the hangover. A grilled cheese sandwich and French fries would have been more than welcome at that moment. I said, “We need hangover food.”

Granny said, “Soup?”

Bless her sober little heart.

(p.s. i am fully aware this entry is properly capitalized. i wrote it in Word and copied it and pasted it here. so don't get used to it.)

My Life As A Dog

2005-11-29T20:54:00.000-08:00

it's one thing when parents play favorites amongst siblings, but another thing altogether when you realize the family dog is higher up on the totem pole than you are. my granny has a little poodle type dog named Dolly. the world spins on it's axis merely because Dolly wishes it so. the sun rises and sets because Dolly wants it to. we all exist to serve Dolly. or so my granny thinks.

that dog lives better than most people i know. Dolly "doesn't like" regular kibble, so every week, my granny makes a chicken just for Dolly. and Dolly likes to go for car rides, but she is too short to see out the window, so Dolly has her own special doggie car seat that elevates her so she can see out the car.

one day i spent the whole afternoon at my granny's house cleaning her shower. she still gets around fairly well, but the shower needed some major elbow grease. i spent HOURS cleaning that shower. i was using a steam machine, Tilex and and some heavy duty grout cleaner. i am such a good granddaughter.

when i was done, i was sweaty, filthy, and a little high from the fumes. granny offered to make me lunch. she said, "i made a chicken for the dog and have some extra meat. i'll make you some chicken tacos."

i happily wolfed them down and then left her house. on the drive home, it occurred to me. i had gotten the dog's leftovers. and you wonder why i have low self esteem?

it's particularly disturbing to me when granny mixes up my name and the dog's name. it's really unsettling to hear her say, "i took Jelly to the groomer and they trimmed the hair out of her ears and squeezed her anal glands." let's not dwell on that mental image too long, ok?

i'm almost afraid that when granny dies and they read the will, granny will have mixed up our names again and the lawyer is going to say, "and to my beloved Dolly, i leave all my diamonds and the house." damn dog is going to make out like a bandit and i will probably inherit the doggie car seat and 3 chickens.

Now My Granny Thinks I Am A Whore

2005-11-27T21:06:00.000-08:00

mom and granny went to a casino today and granny hit some good jackpots. i didn't even go with them, but granny sent me $50 from her winnings. i stayed home all day, in my jammies and knitted and watched dvds.

as she was telling me this over the phone she said, "i guess it was a pretty profitable day."

i MEANT to say that it was for me and i never even had to change my clothes or leave the house.

what i said was, "yeah, it was profitable me, too. and i didn't even have to take off my pajamas!"

now, not only does she think i am a whore, she probably thinks i am a cheap whore. not even one of those nice, high priced ones. that's me, always making my family proud.

I Am SO Going to Hell Now

2005-11-22T21:00:00.000-08:00

and this web site is the reason why

it's a full blown addiction. i can't stop.

*note to self*
pack sunscreen. it's hot in hell.

Alligator - The Other White Meat

2005-11-21T00:01:00.000-08:00

generally, i am not what you would call an "adventerous eater." i know what i like and i tend to stick with the same foods day in and day out. frankly, i could eat nothing but mexican food everyday for the rest of my life and be quite happy. but every once in awhile, i will try new things.

seven years ago i was in beirut, lebanon for a business trip. before i left i made a vow to myself that i would try any new foods i was offered. within reason, of course. sauteed monkey brains were out of the question. luckily, beirut seems to be simian free, so i never had to refuse a steaming dish of monkey gray matter. but i did try loads of stuff and most of it i loved. shwarma was awesome and the crepes i had in beirut were the best i have ever had. it's really worth the trip to a war torn country just for the belgian chocolate, banana filled crepes. trust me on this one.

while there, i went to a fashion show and there was an amazing spread of food. i dived right in, didn't ask any questions and just sampled everything.

there were these golf ball sized brown pastry-looking things. it looked like some kind of dessert puff, so i popped one in my mouth, expecting chocolatey goodness. it was a breaded beef meatball. do you know how unsettling it is when your tongue is expecting chocolate and it's really beef?

further on down the buffet line, i saw these croissant looking rolls. i was expecting something very exotic and lebanese. feeling oh so proud of my found adventerous streak, i bit right into one. it was a pig in a blanket. i traveled halfway across the fucking world for pigs in a blanket. oooooo, i felt so continental.

flash forward to the present day. last night, i went to dinner with some friends. we went to what is supposed to be the best, most authentic cajun restaurant in los angeles. oh, it was authentic, all right. take a peek at the menu.

it just jumps right out at you, doesn't it? alligator. i kind of got the shivers when i saw it, and before i could make some smart assed comment, Todd ordered it. and he was serious. so, i tried some. and guess what? yup, it tastes like chicken. hell, i am just glad no one ordered the frog legs, because, seriously, i drawn the line at that shit. that's just nasty.

and in case you were wondering, this is what gator nuggets look like.

as you can see, Cathy was completely horrifed at the wanton gator consumption and wanted no part of it.

this place serves wine, but not in wine glasses. it comes in little mason jars.

i know you are supposed to drink red wine with beef and white wine with fish. having never heard the etiquette regarding what kind of wine to drink with gator, i opted for pinot grigio. three glasses of it, apparently. hey, if i am going to eat a fucking reptile, i am going to need to be just a little hammered.

towards the end of dinner, Damon went to the men's room, came right back out and grabbed my camera. knowing he has the exact same sense of humor as i do, i knew it had to be something good. and it was. in that bathroom was a painting i like to call "the gayest painting ever in the history of the whole wide world."

it's like a maplethorpe, but with football uniforms. and no whips up the ass, but very similar, don't you think?

ah yes, deep fried gator chunks and homoerotic sports paintings. just another saturday night in LA.

Why Drugs and Architecture Don't Mix

2005-11-16T14:08:00.000-08:00

can we talk for a second about the assholes that designed my house? it was built in the 1970's and the drug culture was still alive and well. lots and lots of drugs and more drugs are the only explanation i can come up with for the reasoning behind some of the features in my home.

first, and most importantly, i have no light fixtures. the bathrooms and the kitchen have built in lighting and that's it. none in the bedrooms. none in the living room. none in the dining room. NONE. the people that built my house were tripping on so much acid and the imaginary colors they saw were so bright, they just figured the lighting situation was taken care of, i guess. as a result, i live a life of many, many lamps. many lamps.

and you have to walk deep into a room to get to the lamp, so i spend a lot of time stumbling around in the dark, stubbing my toes and swearing like a sailor.

i have only lived in this house for 4 years, which means for the last 30 years before that, none of the other owners ever thought to add in a light fixture. jesus h christ, why must i do everything? someone please pass me a quualude.

then there's the trees. the fucking trees. i hate my trees. hate them.

see, we have about 12 fruit trees. and before you get all excited and think, "oh wow! fruit trees! that's GREAT! fresh sqeezed orange juice in the mornings. fresh lemons for homemade lemonade. YUM!" you have to realize that none of my fruit trees bear fruit that i would ever eat.

let's start with the guava tree. do you have idea how badly a guava tree smells? DO? YOU? and lucky, lucky me, that tree is right outside my bedroom window. rock on.

then we have a few crab apple trees. who the hell eats crab apples? god almighty, no one needs 4592 crab apples every year. most useless little fucking fruits on the planet. even the squirrels won't eat them.

and let's not forget the 3 or 4 chinese grapefruit trees. yes, you read that correctly, chinese grapefruit. no one has even heard of this, let alone eaten it. the fruit is HUGE, like the size of my head huge. and each fruit weighs about 5 pounds. it is mostly rind and once you cut that away, you are rewarded with a fist sized hunk of really dry grapefruit. no, none for me, thanks.

the fig tree is appreciated by one person in my life, though. my granny LOVES my fig tree and she will go outside and just stand there eating those things as fast as she can pick them. she even inventories my tree. one time she came over and asked where "that really big fig" was. i was like, "what the fuck are you talking about? how the hell do i know? i don't eat those nasty ass things and i sure as hell don't keep track of them!" (well, i did say that, but without all the swearing and all the attitude. because she WILL hit me, ya know)

it seems a week earlier she had spotted a fig that was not quite ripe, but she knew it would be in a few days. so, she came looking for it and it was GONE! Detective Granny McSleuth was on the case. she examined the ground around the tree and started looking at the bottom of our shoes. apparently, there was a footprint on the ground that did not belong to any of us. that's when Detective Granny McSleuth surmised that people off the street were coming into my yard and stealing her precious figs. she strongly encouraged me to get a lock for my front gate, fire safety laws be damned! then she got her own crime show entiteld CSI: RESEDA.

and last, but not least, there is the persimmon tree. i personally do not eat persimmons and neither does my mother. usually, the fruit falls to the ground and rots, or gets eaten by squirrels. fine by me. i don't care.

but someone else DOES care. and now we have a "persimmon situation" at my house.

this is the scene at my house all day, every day. Daphne is hooked on the persimmons. like she needs a 12 step program kind of hooked. seriously, as soon as i get home and let the Asassins out of their kennel, she bolts right for the tree and starts eating the persimmons that have fallen on the ground. she doesn't even stop and beg me to pet her. nope, she makes a beeline right for the tree. her personal best was 4 in one day. and that's only because i finally stopped her. it's to the point where she gorges herself on fruit and then doesn't want to eat her dry food. well, at least i iknow she'll never get scurvy.

the downside to this is that persimmons only bear fruit a few weeks a year. in a bout 2 more weeks, that tree is going to be bare and i don't know how Daphne is going to handle this. how do you explain "seasons" to a dog?

so, in order to prepare her for a persimmon-less winter, i sat her down and told her they would be gone soon, but would be back next September. she was, of course, crushed.

NO MOMMY NO! SAY IT ISN'T SO! TELL ME IT'S NOT TRUE! NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!

so if anyone knows how to get persimmons year round, please let me know. otherwise the dog might not eat again until next year. and i have grown rather fond of her.

His License Plates Reads, "Hi, I'm An Asshole."

2005-11-07T21:57:00.000-08:00

COWPOOH? what the fuck is that supposed to mean? is it a play on the word 'bullshit?' what kind of butt nugget wants to drive around every day with a license plate that says COWPOOH?

and how did this slip past the DMV? they are supposed to prohibit obscene personalized plates. if you think your personalized plate might be construed as obscene, you can explain the meaning, and if the DMV buys your story, they will send you the plate. so, what was his story? did he tell them that his family made their millions in the manure business and that this was his homage to his dearly departed grandfather? or did he tell them that his twin brother died in a tragic cow tipping accident when he slipped on cow pooh and the cow tipped over onto him, killing him instantly and this was how he wanted to honor his brother's memory? either way, someone at the DMV is a freakin' idiot. as if we didn't know that already.

i'm going to apply for a plate that says FUCKOFF and tell the DMV that it really means i had a friend named FUCKO and we were supposed to be FriendsForever (FUCKO FF) and he died in a freak blender accident and this is how i want to remember him. they will totally believe me, too.

Angry Jelly is BACK! And She is PISSED!

2005-11-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

ok, to say i have been having a shitty week would be an understatment. on tuesday, i had to rip out 4 days worth of knitting because of some badly picked up stitches and i had food poisoning on thursday. those are just some of the highlights.

so, i figure today cannot possibly be any worse. well, fuck me running, i thought wrong.

The Coca Cola Co. announced today that they are discontinuing Diet Vannila Coke.

I know, it sounds preposterous! Oh God, look at me, I'm so upset, I am using actual CAPITAL letters. THAT'S how upset i am, people! rat bastard, sons of bitches, motherfucking, cocksucking ASSHOLES!

Diet Vanilla Coke is MY SOLE REASON FOR LIVING some days. and i am NOT being overly dramatic!! now i am going to have to become the crazy hoarding lady. i will spend this coming weekend going from store to store, buying ALL the DVC i can get my sweaty little hands on. i don't know where i am going to store it all, as my house is just tee tiny, but, as they say, necessity is the mother of invention. or some shit like that.

maybe i could stack the cases, shellac them together and build furniture. then, as i need the soda, i could just dismantle a chair or a futon. this could work.

between this and the food poisoning, that is now TWICE this week that i have been on my bathroom floor, in the fetal position, crying and begging for the release of sweet, sweet death.

Oh God, People Are Going To Start Calling Me "Stinky" Now, Aren't They?

2005-11-02T22:22:00.000-08:00

yesterday, i was leaving work and got in the elevator. a co-worker got on and we made that banal, meaningless chit chat that you do. i mentioned that i had to stop at the gas station because i had basically fumed it into work that morning. she joked that i better not turn on my A/C and i should hope the whole trip was downhill. ha ha ho ho. end of gasoline talk.

we get off the elevator and walk across the lobby to the parking garage elevators. we had been alone up until then. at this point, more people join us. PEOPLE WHO WERE NOT PRIVVY TO THE GASOLINE DISCUSSION. her elevator comes and she gets on. right before the doors close, she looks at me and says, "Good luck with your gas!"

oh.my.god.

i could see the people around me looking at me out of the corner of their eyes. yes, me, the girl with the gas.

i.wanted.to.die.

and i whispered, "gasoline. she meant gasoline. we were talking about gasoline."

i don't think they believed me, though.

Tips For Halloween 2006 - Just to Get A Jump Start

2005-10-31T23:49:00.000-08:00

YOU ARE TOO OLD TO TRICK OR TREAT IF.......

1.) you are dressed as a hobo and your beard stubble is real.

2.) you look at your watch at exclaim, "damn! it's 8pm!" not because 8pm is your curfew, but because 8pm is the time you are supposed to take your birth control pill every night.

3.) you can drive yourself from house to house.

4.) you are dressed in a suit and tie and your costume is "business man." but that's what you wore to work today.

5.) your cell phone rings while trick or treating and it is your boss asking if you remembered to put the cover sheet on your TPS report.

6.) your costume requires an underwire bra. and it fits.

7.) your circa 1985 Skeletor costume is the same one you wore in 3rd grade.

8.) you get a woody when the lady of the house answers the doorbell. and then you hit on her by saying "trick or TREAT" while grabbing your crotch.

9.) you are concerned that the caramel candies will pull out your fillings.

10.) you get some Hershey's Kisses and think, "those would be a great garnish for my chocolate martini tonight!"

I Love All Animals, Except For One

2005-10-27T22:24:00.000-07:00

some friends of ours are on vacation this week, so i have been going to their house on my lunch hour and walking their dog. i love this dog and threaten to dognap her everytime i see her. Patches is the sweetest, cutest wiggle butt-ed dog in the world. don't tell my pups i said that, but it's true.

how can you NOT love that face? i mean, really.

when her owners come back from their cruise, i already have my story planned. "well, gosh, i don't know what happened. she just got away from me and i never saw her again. {insert sob} oh, and on a side note, you can never come to my house again, either." i have already started practicing my "innocent and bewildered face" in the mirror. i think they are totally going to buy my story.

then, at the other end of the spectrum, is their cat, Woody. this cat scares the bejesus out me. he hisses at me constantly and the look in his eyes says, "let me feast on the tender flesh of your neck."

see? i'm right, aren't i? that is the face of evil.

this is what he looks like most of the time. bloodthirsty and ready to kill.

what scares me most is when he "purrs" and rubs up against my legs. i scream like a little girl and jump about 3 feet into the air when he does that. he is a furry little terrorist and i am wholly convinced he lays awake nights plotting WWIII.

normally, i love all animals and they love me. introduce me to a snarling 150 pound rottweiler, and within 5 minutes he will be my new best friend and will be on his back getting a belly rub. but Woody, well, he's satan and if there's one thing i learned in catholic school, it was to never make friends with the devil. because he will steal your soul. and so will Woody.

There is a REASON Chuck E Cheese Serves Beer

2005-10-25T21:22:00.000-07:00

ah yes, a glorious saturday afternoon spent at Chuck E Cheese. it really is an experience like none other. small, sticky children running around, hopped up on Mr. Pibb and cake. bright lights, clanging bells, and the non stop "beep beep beep" of the myriad of video games and rides. yes, i have been to hell and lived to tell the tale.

and apparently, in hell, we have dinner theater.

at Chuck's it all boils down to the Almighty Ticket. you spend $40 buying tokens, which the kids feed into the games and the games spew out tickets which the kids trade in for cheap ass prizes. $40 in tokens translates into $1.98 plastic pair of sunglasses. god bless capitalism.

we were there for my best friend's youngest daughter's birthday party. (this is not the one that peed in the dressing room. Puddles is the middle child. keep up, people.) i knew we were in for an afternoon of screaming kids, bad pizza and even worse entertainment. part of the birthday package includes an appearance by Chuck himself at the table. the hostesses told the kids that if they danced with Chuck, they would get TICKETS. so all the little girls promptly jumped up and started dancing with the six foot mouse. hhmmm, so let's recap, shall we? what have our girls learned today? oh yes, they have learned to dance with strangers for money! they need to change their slogan to, "Chuck E Cheese: Where a Lap Dancer Can Be A Kid!"

the look on the hostess' face says it all, doesn't it. "shoot me. shoot me now. if i have to do the Hand Jive ONE.MORE.TIME, i will kill myself and everyone within a 4 mile radius. i'm serious. and i'm taking the fucking mouse out first."

i can't wait til these girls are old enough to have their birthday parties in real bars like normal people.

Sorry, Mom, But the Truth MUST Be Told

2005-10-21T22:40:00.000-07:00

i was attempting to open a plastic package the other day. i tugged at it, i pulled, i used my teeth, all to no avail. it quickly became clear to me that i was going to need scissors. so, i go the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT, and to my shock, the scissors were not there. i was convinced that my mother had used them and failed to return them to the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT. that's when the swearing started, and i wasn't being real quiet about it, either.

"goddamit! why can't she put the fucking scissors back in the fucking DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT when she is done with them? how fucking hard is that? is that too much to fucking ASK??!?!"

it continued in this vein as i tore thru the junk drawer, rifled the desk and searched the mail basket. at this point, the dogs looked at one another and i am fairly certain i heard one whisper to the other, "oh fuck. we got adopted a fucking nut job." (i really don't know where they picked up that kind of language. no more HBO for them!) then they ran outside, planning their escape, no doubt.

now, it might seem that i was overreacting given the situation. but you see, we have ISSUES in my house when it comes to putting things back where they belong. take the dairy products, for example. now *i* believe that once you have poured your milk, the milk carton should be returned to the fridge within 5 minutes. my mother, on the hand, does not subscribe to this belief system. she will leave the milk or butter on the counter for HOURS. as i actively try to avoid food poisoning whenever possible, this is a slight bone of contention between us.

the other day, i had a violent headache and my back was hurting. comfort food was obviously the only cure. so i decided to make some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. because really, is there anything more comforting than that package of magic cheese dust? i think not.

i get the butter out of the fridge. this is a tub of whipped butter. it should be so light and airy that you can scoop it out with a mere flick of the spoon. not in my house. this thing had been left out and re-refrigerated so many times that it was now as hard as granite. i had to use a knife to chisel out chunks of it. little butter bits were flying all over the kitchen. i FINALLY manage to excavate the 4 tablespoons worth that i needed. needless to say, i was cursing up a storm the whole time.

if you ever come to my house and my mom offers you milk and buttered toast, do yourself a favor and JUST SAY NO!

given our history with things not being put back into the proper place, i was convinced she had mislaid the scissors. i could not find them anywhere and resorted to using a screwdriver to shred the plastic. i was NOT happy, let me tell you.

later that night, i was getting ready for bed. what do i spy with my little eye? the scissors. in my bedroom. where i had left them the day before. and my dresser is not the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT.

i'm a fucking moron. but, i'm still right about the dairy products. SO THERE!

The Betrayal Of the Uterus

2005-10-19T20:19:00.000-07:00

flipping thru the channels. another exciting night for me, oh yeah. what's this? a Seinfeld rerun? ooooo, George Costanza is looking H-O-T hot!. work those Dockers, Georgie boy, work them! this is getting too hot for me, i better change the channel. hhmm, "Everybody Loves Raymond." well, JELLY loves Raymond, big daddy. what a man, what a man, what a mighty fine man. damn, i better see what's on cable. yeah baby, a Pauly Shore movie. DUDE!

yup, i must be ovulating. that time of the month when EVERY man looks good. a dangerous time, indeed. men i would not look twice at on any other day all of a sudden become tasty little man meat morsels. for these few days, i become easy like a sunday morning. my body is screaming at me to PROCREATE ALREADY, DAMMIT. and this unnatural attraction to anything with an adam's apple is just nature's way of trying to knock me up.

i have never been pregnant and don't ever want to be. can someone please get the memo to my womb before i start hitting on that guy from "King of Queens?"

She Was A Small Town Girl With Big City Dreams

2005-10-15T19:25:00.000-07:00

PLAYMATE DATA SHEET

NAME: Roxie

BUST: Multiple Nipples. WAIST: Trim and Slim. HIPS: Muscular.

HEIGHT: Knee High. WEIGHT: A Lady Never Tells.

BIRTHDATE: 3-21-05 BIRTHPLACE: Taft, California

AMBITIONS: To make sure my sister, Daphne, receives no affection or attention whatsover. To chew every piece of furniture I can get my paws on. And world peace.

TURN ONS: Beefy bones, Kongs, pig ears, and kibble.

TURN OFFS: Hearing, "NO! BAD CHEW!" a million times a day. Sharing my toys with my sister. Cats.

FAVORITE QUOTE: "Good Girl!"

What NOT To Get Me For My Birthday

2005-10-14T21:42:00.000-07:00

my birthday is next month and if you gave these to me as a gift, i would beat you to death with them.

there is just so much ugly there, i don't know where to start snarking. the maribou? the zebra print? the badly tied bow? then there's the toes. oh yes, nothing says class like fake toes.

even scarier is the fact that i took this pic at a fairly nice department store. hell, i think the regional buyer at Big Lots! would laugh at these and say, "are you fucking kidding me? we have a reputation to uphold." then he would order 3 more gross of the Bubba Tub of salsa.

ATTICA! ATTICA! ATTICA!

2005-10-13T21:01:00.000-07:00

yup, the're chewers, alright. in two days the little assasins managed to take out one coffee table and a sofa cushion. one of them was puking up foam from the sofa cushion (aren't you glad i didn't take a pic of that?) so, for their own protection, we got them a big ass outdoor kennel.

hey, don't feel bad for them. they got three hots and a cot. but no cable tv.

The Best Tattoo, EVER!

2005-10-10T21:45:00.000-07:00

i have two tattoos. before i got them, i thought long and hard about the designs. i knew they would be permanent and i needed to make sure i wanted to live with these works of art on my body until the day i die. i love my tattoos and would not change a thing about them.

others have not put as much thought into theirs, i am fairly certain.

yesterday, mom and i went to an indoor swap meet. this place deserves a blog entry of it's own and soon as i can get back there with my real camera, you too will experience the joy that is the Valley Indoor Swap Meet. trust me, it will be worth the wait.

anyway, while we were browsing the aisles of crap, i spotted a girl walking in front of me. she was wearing low rise pants and a crop tee, so her lower back tattoo was in full view for all to enjoy.

do you want to know what it said?

i know you do.

wait for it.

it's coming.

are you ready?

you sure?

her tramp stamp was a tattoo that said "Exit Only" and had a little arrow pointing down at her ass. hand to god.

i DESPERATELY wanted to take a picture and even stalked her thru a few aisles with my Sidekick, but i knew the pic would be fuzzy at best. i wanted a pic of that one so bad that i seriously considered going up to her and asking if i could take a picture of it. i would have to pretend that i really liked her tattoo. but then she might want to talk about it and i would have to stand there talking about anal sex with a stranger at the swap meet and i just could not bring myself to do that. plus, she looked kind of scary and i was pretty sure she could kick my ass if she figured out that i didn't really like her tattoo. and i ain't getting my ass beat just to get a picture.

i try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, so i thought maybe that tattoo was the evidence of one, bad drunken night. but then realized that her oufit was specifically chosen to show off the tattoo. she was proud of it.

then i pondered the purpose of the tattoo. were men constantly trying to fuck her in the ass without her permission? how often was she in the position (pun inteneded) for this to be an issue? well, she and her boyfriend did look like lowlife speed freaks, so maybe she does spend a lot of time passed out in the company of strangers.

she better hope she never goes to prison, that's all i gotta say. let's say i get sent to prison for finally beating someone else's child at the mall (and really, we all know it's just a matter of time until that happens.) and when i get to prison, i have all kinds of power because i have the smokes. if some fresh meat came onto my cell block with a tat like that, i would have my bitches ram things up her ass just to be ironic. (did i ever mention that my mom left me watch "Prison: Cell Block H" when i was a child?)

Exit Only, indeed.

My New Babies!

2005-10-08T21:39:00.000-07:00

we got our new puppies today. they are 7 month old sisters, half pit and half lab. envy the cuteness.

this is Roxie.

this is Daphne. she was watching me eat french fries, hence the long drool slobber hanging from her mouth there.

And The Dumbass I Will Be Making Fun of Today, Well, That Would Be Me

2005-10-03T20:28:00.000-07:00

you always hear how a true genius can solve a quantun physics equation in 2.8 seconds, yet the same person can be so totally absent-minded that they forget to wear underwear. i think i am that kind of person. well, that's my story and i am sticking to it. genius in so many ways, yet unable to operate machinery without adult supervision.

last friday, i went to Bath & Body Works, also known as the poor woman's Sephora. i "found" a new scent that i fell in love with and immediately purchased the shower gel, body lotion, body splash and tube of body cream. or, so i thought. i buy the lotion to keep in the bathroom for after shower use and the cream i keep on my nightstand for nighttime hand and feet application. i loved this scent so much, that as soon as i got home i took a shower just so i could use all my new products and go to bed smelling mega yummy. before i went to bed, i slathered the cream on my feet and noticied that it felt kind of sticky. but i just shrugged it off and went to bed.

the next night, i was telling my friend, kate, about this great new scent from B&BW. i grabbed the tube of body cream so that i could tell her the exact name. when i told her the scent was Cotton Blossom, she laughed her ass off and proceeded to tell me that i had indeed smelled it before. in fact, it was when she and i went on vacation together back in March. maybe the fact that i was sidewalk licking drunk the whole vacation is why i have no recollection of ever having seen this stuff.

to futher compound my stupidity, as we were laughing at me, i looked at the tube again and realized it was NOT body cream. it was body wash. i had slathered body wash on my feet the night before and happily gone to sleep. i tend to sweat while i sleep (i'm painting a sexy, sexy picture, aren't i?) god knows, my feet probably lathered up in the middle of the night and i slept right thru it.

how i manage to walk and chew gum at the same time is nothing short of miraculous.

The Only Thing Missing Was The Popcorn

2005-10-01T21:40:00.000-07:00

just got back from a rockin' saturday night at my local Target. (deanna, i TOLD you my life is far from uber glam. do you believe me now?) that may sound boring, but damn, i had a good time. a mother and daughter were standing in the middle of the aisle having a screaming fight. the mom was in her 50's and the daughter looked to be in her late 20's or early 30's. this fight was so good that at one point, i turned my cart around and just stood there watching them, not even pretending to be looking at the Purex display.

the mother kept walking away and screaming back at the daughter. here are some choice snippets from ScreamFest '05.

daughter: "you can just go straight to hell!"
mother: "do you want me to keep screaming at you?"
daughter: "if you throw that thing and it hits my kid, you WILL be sorry!"
mother: "this is why i hate shopping with you!"

i bet Mother's Day at their house is just a hoot and a half.

this was screamed at full volume for the enjoyment of all Target shoppers. i LOVE IT when people fight in public. really, it just amuses me to no end. and hey, if you are going to air your dirty laundry in public, don't give ME a dirty look for watching.

my mom and i don't scream at other in private, let alone in the DVD section of Target. although, we do occasionally "play bicker" when we are out shopping. and then i do this thing that pisses her off mightily. while we are bickering, i will find an empty aisle and clap my hands together very sharply so it sounds like a slap. then i scream, "mom, that hurt!!" i think this is funnier than hell. her, not so much.

Oh, She's Going to Heaven FOR SURE

2005-10-01T21:30:00.000-07:00

apparently there is a "point system" in place that was never mentioned in the bible. when you die and go to heaven, st. peter stands there with his checklist.

WWJD bracelet = 5 points
diamond encrusted cross necklace = 10 points
license plates/holders = 20 points each

i love when i see one of these cars decked out with anti darwin bumper stickers and "god is my co-pilot" window decals and they are driving like total assholes. what happened to "do unto others?" and i am such a judgemental bitch, that when one of these cars is trying to change lanes and get in front me, i don't let them. hey, if god really wanted you to be in my lane, he would send me sign.

Hidden Gems at Your Local BIG LOTS!

2005-09-25T20:54:00.000-07:00

i LOVE designer shoes and handbags and will not think twice about spending $300 on a really great Kate Spade tote. but that does not mean i do not know how to economize. i have no qualms about shopping at BIG LOTS! or the 99 cent store. a can of Spagetios is a can of Spagetios no matter where you buy it. why pay $1.50 at the grocery store when you can get it for 99 cents?

however, perusing my local BIG LOTS! yesterday, i came across some items that i have never seen at my local grocer's.

when people decorate their homes with folksy roosters, do they not know that their decor can now be referred to as "Country Cock?" if i go into a house and it has roosters on the towels, plaques and dishes, i would have no choice but to exclaim, "wherever did you get that cock towel?" or "that cock on your wall looks so lifelike!" sometimes my inner 12 year old cannot be stifled.

salsa con queso in tub. not so bad, really. but the brand name is Bubba Tub. this immediately calls to mind images of some big, slovenly hillbilly in a barcalounger, eating this with off brand Fritos while watching a "Dirty Harry" marathon on the Guns and Ammo Network. actually, i just kind of described my brother.

pork hocks in a jar. why is it that only the most digusting pork parts are sold in clear glass jars? pork rinds, pickled pig's feet and pork hocks are always shown in all their glorious goriness. i guess pork chops in a jar would probably be pretty nasty, too, come to think of it. when i am president of the world, i will put a ban on all pork products in clear jars. you can thank me later.

discount condoms are never a good idea. you can stitch that on a throw pillow right now. what struck me the most about these, though, was the tagline on the box. i know the pic is a little fuzzy. (do you have any idea how hard it is to take these guerilla photographs and NOT get caught? oh how i suffer for my readers.) this multi pack of rubbers is called the "Mambo Combo" and below that it reads "Do The Dance with 8 Varieties of Your Favorite Condoms." i guess for nights when you want to get buckass wild and swing from the rafters, you would use the Salsa variety. and nights when you are feeling a little WASP-y and want to do it missionary style with the lights off, you would bust out the Country Club Bunny Hop style.

Fisher Boy Fish Portions. not even fish sticks, but fish PORTIONS. that's WAY too vague for my tastes. Fisher Boy is not yet a professional Fisher Man, so these are probably made from ALL the crap that he catches in his net. fish, rusty beer cans, used Mambo Condoms, and cigarette butts. the package actually says, "made from minced fish parts." it doesn't specify WHICH parts and that's scary. and i'm pretty sure it's not the breading that makes it Crunchy.

baby clams in a can. and this was not being marketed as cat food. the brand name is California Girl. um, i am a born and bred California Girl and i would not eat that shit on a dare. and besides, when was the last time you saw a recipe that called for canned baby clams? maybe in the Cookbook For Bulimics: Barfing Made Easy, but outside of that, eh, not so much.

check out Kashi's new Jungle Fever line of cereals. are you in an inter-racial relationship AND lacking fiber in your diet? have we got the cereal for you!
i'm guessing this was at BIG LOTS! because it was not a real big seller in the South. call it a hunch.

Getting the Dry Heaves at JC Penney

2005-09-18T17:49:00.000-07:00

i have known for a long time that i am not cut out for motherhood, but as i get older, i occasionally question my decison to remain childless. did i make the right choice? should i have had children? would i be a really great mother? yes, no and no, as it turns out.

my goddaughter is 9 and her sisters are 7 and 4 years old. every year i take them back to school shopping. usually, it's a really fun day. we hit all the stores, get a bunch of new clothes and have a great time. yesterday was the annual shopping spree and it started out fine. we went to the mega mall near their house and got most of the shopping done at the first store we hit. so, we break for an early lunch. it's 11:30am and all three girls wanted clam chowder for lunch. and the little freaks ate every last drop. and i had to watch them slurp down that nasty ass swill.

whilst dining, the girls asked me what foods i do and don't like. (my food issues are a whole 'nother blog entry, trust me) so, i gave them the short list of foods i don't eat. now, the middle daughter, who is 7, has been a raging carnivore since she cut her first tooth. she LOVES steak, prime rib, filet mignon, etc. when i mentioned the fact that i don't like steak, the look on her face read, "Do.Not.Compute.Error.Error." you would have thought i said i don't like oxygen. the child could truly not comprehend that someone would pass up a slab of dead cow.

we all finish eating and go to the bathroom for a potty break. i may not be mom material, but i do know that when you have kids in a public place you should make them stop at every available bathroom and make them go whether they have to or not.

off to the bookstore where they soak me for another $100. when we walked in i told them they could each get 2 books. somehow, they all walked out with 3 or 4 but i don't mind because i would rather spend the money on books than video games or some crap like that. i've been pushing books on these kids since they were born.

last stop, JC Penney. we grab some tshirts and jeans for everyone and traipse off to the dressing room to try it all on. three kids in one dressing room can be a bit chaotic, but we have a system. after everything is tried on it goes into one of three piles, the yes pile, the no pile and the maybe pile. smooth sailing. i'm starting to think i might not be half bad at this kid business. and then it all went to hell.

the 7 year old tells me she has to pee. and then, before i can even react, she loses control of her bladder and pees all over herself and the floor. she's crying hysterically, her sisters are staring at her and i am paralyzed. the kid is SOAKED. so, i lock them in the dressing room, go to the register and apologetically explain what happened and ask for a roll of paper towels so i can clean up the mess. the teeneage retail bitches behind the register look at me as if we did this on purpose. i don't have time to rip them new assholes, so i grab the towels and go back to the dressing room.

Puddles (her new nickname) is in the corner, still crying. so i am trying to calm her down and clean the carpet. finally, i get it as clean as i can and tell her to take off her clothes and we will change her into some the stuff we had bought earlier. she leaves all her clothes in a pile in the corner and changes. i go to grab the soiled clothes so i can put them in a plastic bag. as i bend over this pile of steaming, urine soaked clothes, i started dry heaving. i have a very sensitive sense of smell and this just threw me over the edge. i run to opposite corner of the dressing room, bend over and make a noise that had no vowel sounds.

"GGRRRRKKKWWWWWWWMMMMMMMRRRRRRPPPPPPSSSSSXXXXXXX!"

even Puddles stopped crying long enough to gawk at me. now, please keep in mind that all of this is taking place in a dressing room. the kind where the walls don't go all the way up to the ceiling. everyone from Toddler Clothing to Housewares can hear me horking up the taquitos i had for lunch.

i BARELY managed to not puke all over the carpet and finally get the clothes into a plastic bag. still heaving a little, i hold the bag out to the 9 year old and ask her to tie a knot in the top of the bag. she's completely grossed out and says, "No way! Have her do it!" and points to her youngest sister. now, the youngest one has a sense of smell like mine. i turn to her and she is completely horrified and shrinks into the corner, shaking her head "no" the whole time. so, i summoned every bit of willpower i possess and manage to get the bag closed.

we go to pay for the clothes we are buying and i apologize profusely to the teenage retail bitches who continue to stare down their noses at me. bitches, you work at JC Penney, get over yourselves.

thinking this is probably a good time to call it a day, we head out towards the side of the mall where the car is parked. as we are walking, one of the carrier type shopping bags bursts open and all over the floor there are 'Tween Jeans and Lemony Snicket books as far as the eye can see. i am pretty much near tears at this point. we gather up all the stuff and manage to cram it into the remaining bags and continue towards the parking garage.

FINALLY, we make it to the car, get everyone buckled in and head towards home. in the parking lot, some bitch cuts me off and without thinking, i screamed, "FUCK ME!" i really do make every effort to not swear in front of the kids, so this was the first time they had heard me curse, and at the tops of my lungs, no less. i turned to the 9 year old and said, "listen, i'm sorry you had to hear that, but i had to clean up urine today. i think i am entitled to drop one F-Bomb, ok?"

as soon as i am done typing this, i will be performing an at home hysterectomy. and next year, they are getting gift cards.

Gamblin' Granny Strikes Again

2005-09-11T22:32:00.000-07:00

yesterday, mom, granny and i went to the casinos. granny is a hardcore slot machine addict and we go every couple of months. my granny even learned how to play slot games on my computer. watching my 75 year old granny learn to work a mouse was one of the funniest things i have ever seen. but she did it and now has her own computer at home. i am scared to see what will happen if she ever gets internet. i know she won't gamble online for money, but she will become a walking encyclopedia of free gaming sites within weeks. if she starts her own gambling blog i would not be all that surprised.

granny got her first taste of slot fever sometime in the early 1960's when grandpa took her to las vegas for the first time. they were at one of the western themed casinos and granny was playing a penny slot machine. the machine itseld was shaped like a cowboy and when granny hit her first jackpot, the cowboy's arm shot down and pennies started coming out of it. she thought she had broken the machine and was trying to shove the pennies back into the arm. she stage whispered to grandpa, "Louie! Louie! I broke it!" he explained to her that she had just won. she's been on a tear ever since.

nowadays, the slots are much more complex. on some there are 20 paylines and bonus rounds and all kinds of other bells and whistles. i just dump my money in, hit "spin" and hope for the best. not granny. no, she understands all the paylines and winning combos. one day she was explaining them to me in great detail and i looked at her and said, "other grannies teach you how to make cookies and sweaters. you are teaching me how to gamble."

her response was to look at me say, "you can BUY cookies and sweaters. THIS is fun. now, if you hit payline 14, that means....."

so, yesterday at the casino, we are all doing our own thing and we check in with each other every hour or so to see if anyone won. i play video poker, mostly. that's my game. i even have my own favorite machine at this particular casino. everytime i play it, i win a nice chunk of change (anywhere from $70 to the most i ever won which was $1200). i love this machine so much i have named it "Baby." i get very possessive and upset if i see anyone playing it and i lurk until they leave. hey, Baby is MY machine, dammit.

sometimes i take a break and go play the regular slots. but i usually end up getting so irritated at the people around me that i leave and going back to video poker. you see, some of the neanderthals that play the slots seem to think their hands contain magic powers. while the reels are spinning, they run their hands over the video screen. back and forth, back and forth. and i can see this from the corner of my eye and it just irritates the fuck out of me. i don't know what kind of voodoo bullshit they think they are doing. and honestly, we are playing penny slots here, people. no one has ever won BIG MONEY on a freakin' penny machine. save the santeria hocus pocus for something that matters. like the Lotto.

and speaking of the people at the casino.... oh dear lord, "trashy" doesn't even begin to describe some of these assholes. i desperately wanted to take pics, but i was afraid they would kick me out. and my granny would NOT take kindly to being kicked out of a casino. that's like ex-communication for her. and she wouldn't leave with me, either. oh no, she would deny knowing me and would stay and make me sit in the hot car until she was damn good and ready to leave. i would be like one of those dogs left in the car on a hot summer's day and i would get brain damage from the heat and no one would even come break a window on the car to rescue me. needless to say, i didn't take any pics. but if i had, i would have had material for Fat Girls in Skinny Clothes for weeks! i saw enough size 24 girls crammed into size 14 pants to last me lifetime, thank you very much. *shudder*

the people that really scare me are the gambling addicts. you can always spot them by the sweat on their brow and their shaking hands. and if you can't see them, you can smell them. they reek of Eau D'desperation. you KNOW that they have just put this month's rent into that slot machine and if it doesn't pay off they are going to have to sell Junior off into white slavery.

my favorite are the people who learned everything they know about poker from Celebrity Poker Tournament on tv. once, while playing video poker, i overheard a lady ask her husband, "is that the river?" what the fuck, lady? this is VIDEO poker! there is no "river" and there is no "turn" - go back to playing keno and leave us serious players alone.

i won a little, i lost a little, but i made my money back at the buffet. i probably ate my body weight in guacamole. and given the price of avocados today, i think i came out ahead in that deal.

Crap You Couldn't PAY Me to Wear

2005-09-04T20:11:00.000-07:00

mom and i went to the Camarillo Outlets today. i wanted to go to the Aerosoles store in particular because there is a pair of shoes i have been wanting and they are $65 retail and i knew i could get them cheaper there. we braved the crowds and the strollers and a-shopping we went. why does every family seem to have a double stroller? i swear, some of those people didn't even have kids. it was like Stroller Derby 2005 trying to walk thru that place. next time, i will wear a helmet and elbow pads for protection.

so, in my quest to save $20, i ended up spending about $300. but i got some great stuff. at the Maidenform store alone, i dropped $65. but, i swear i needed more panties.really, i did. and i have never once walked out of a Skechers outlet empty handed. today was no exception.

many of the stores in this outlet are higher end names such as Coach, Mikasa, and Versace. but, as you are about to see, money DOES NOT equal good taste. we saw stuff today that i wouldn't give to my worst enemy as a gag gift.

YABBA DABBA FUCKING DO! obviously designed by betty rubble after a 3 day bender, this vest was a plush faux fur nightmare. retired grandmothers in florida would deem this "a little over the top, dear."

because, really, nothing says CLASS like a gold lame, high heeled sneaker. my favorite detail is the security tag. i really don't think they have to worry about these bad boys getting shoplifted anytime soon.

is it a kayak? is it a shoe? i don't know, it's just butt ugly. (that cute little leg belongs to my mom. i love that she is willing to model for my art. what a mom!)

how many Muppets had to die for this? somebody call PETA! this is an outrage!! i mean, WHO, tell me WHO looks at that shoe and says, "yes. finally. the perfect shoe. my search is over. it shall be mine."

trust me, the stuff i bought is WAY cuter.

With Me, You Never Get a FIRST Chance to Make a First Impression. And I'm OK With That.

2005-08-29T20:19:00.000-07:00

sometimes you can just look at a person and know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that there is no way in hell you and she could ever be friends. then, they open their mouthes and cement the deal. why, yes, i *do* judge a book by it's cover. you got a problem with that?

the other day i went to a local retaurant for lunch. quick sidenote about this place. it is an italian retaurant, run by pakistanis and they make the best damn chicken burrito and pico de gallo i have ever had. still trying to wrap my head around that one. so, anyway, i am waiting for my order and i overhear two women talking. one of them was in her 40's and wearing a denim jumper and a headband. she looked like a sunday school teacher. all that was missing was the emroidred ABC's and apples on the pockets. the other woman looked to be in her late 30's and was sporting a mullet the likes of which i have not seen outside of a motley crue concertcirca 1987. but her's was the "classy,' professional mullet." if there is such a thing.

here's a snippet of their conversation:

denim jumper: "have you read "the notebook?" oh, you just haaaaaaaave to. it's so woooooooonderful!"

mullet dweeb: "no. but i have read "the wedding." oh, it was soooooooo beauuuuuuuuuuutiful. i cried and cried. it really spoke to me."

denim jumper: "isn't nicholas sparks just the beeeeeeeeeest writer?"

i will bet you a million dollars that Denim Jumper has a poster in her cubicle of a kitten hanging from a branch with the caption "hang in there, baby" tacked to her fabric covered wall. and Mullet Dweeb almost certainly collects Marie Osmond dolls. and names them and dresses them in different outfits every week.

see, i knew within 10 seconds that if i was stranded on a desert island with these chicks i would die without ever having spoken another word. what do you say to people like that? i just can't relate to people that equate schmaltz crap with literature. hey, i like my trashy novels as much as the next gal, but i have never proclaimed Sophie Kinsella as the Voice of My Generation. everyone knows that is Helen Fielding's title. duh.

i have the same reaction when i meet overly religious people. i just know, with every fiber of my being, that i have nothing in common with them. i don't put much stock in a book of fairy tales (i.e. The Bible) and i don't live my life doing good deeds for the sole purpose of scoring points with god and securing a front row seat in heaven. that's what my family gets for raising me as a catholic. there is no atheist like the reformed catholic. i was overeducated about catholicism and saw it for the load of crap it is. i might actually be part vampire, because when i see a cross i hiss and cover my face. (sherri, none of this applies to you. you are the exception to this rule. you snuck in under my radar. love ya like i love tater tots.)

i try not to judge people too quickly (ok, that's a total lie, but for the sake of argument, let's pretend it's true). but when i see a pro life bumper sticker on a car and that car is driven by a MAN, it's all i can do to not ram into him, screaming "yeah, asshole. every life *is* precious EXCEPT yours!" let's hope no one at Progressive Car Insurance reads this blog. and you don't even want to know what happens when i see NRA bumper stickers. and i can't tell you, because that would be self incriminating. and i ain't stupid.

when i go into Blockbuster and see someone struggling with the decision to rent a Jim Carrey movie vs. a Chris Farley movie, i just look at that person and think, "let's hope our paths never, ever cross again. ok?"

gosh, given my loving, bubbly nature, it's really shocking that i don't have more friends.

Fat Girls in Skinny Clothes - The Sequel

2005-08-26T21:18:00.000-07:00

let me just clarify a few things first. i am not ragging on fat people. hell, i ain't tiny myself and as i type this i am licking the Cinnabon frosting from my fingers. however, i *am* ragging on fat people who have no clue how to dress for their size. if you are a size 22, please do not try to squeeze yourself into a size 10. it's not pretty and it hurts my eyes. and i don't want to hear this bullshit about Fat/Size Acceptance. ugly is ugly no matter what you call it.

this chick was wearing a shirt about 45 sizes too small for her and low rise jeans. you can actually see the fat spooging out in between the slats on the chair. i just wanted to hit her over the head with a Lane Bryant catalog and explain to her the beauty that is the tunic top.

Yup, It's Offical. I Have NO Shame. None.

2005-08-24T20:39:00.000-07:00

i have to type this post very quickly because in 21 minutes one of my favorite tv shows will be starting and once it does, that's it. the internet gets turned off, my Sidekick gets turned off and don't even think about trying to call me, because i won't answer. your emergency will still be an emergency 20 minutes from now. it can wait.

what is this show you might be asking yourself? is it the high brow Charlie Rose? is the the political hotbed Crossfire? is it a National Geographic special on the mating habits of meerkats? nope. it is Battle of the Network Reality Stars. that sound you now hear is my mother hauling ass to the lawyer's office so she can write me out of the will. i have to give her credit though, she tried, she really did. when i was little, i was fed a steady diet of PBS and educational programming. enough of that bullshit. bring me the trash tv.

i fucking LOVE Battle of the Network Reality Stars! i mean, c'mon, what's not to love? first and most importantly, we have the incomparable Evil Dr. Will Kirby from Season 2 of Big Brother. this man is AWESOME. he will say and do anything to win and he's just flat out fucking funny. i would watch this show just to see him insult people. they generally have no clue they are being insulted and just grin and clap him on the back as if he were their new best friend. he's my hero. but, last week, he was shirtless at one point and i was reminded of the fact that he has the tiniest man nipples i have ever seen. it's almost distracting, really. he has mini man nips.

on last weeks episode, Charla from the Amazing Race was in the jousting competition with the chick that won the first season of The Swan (and her plastic surgery is holding up very nicely, i might add). in case you don't know, Charla is a "little person." so basically, it was a midget jousting an amazonion red head above a pool of water. MIDGET JOUSTING! you don't get to see this everyday, people. and it's not even pay per view!! god bless america.

then we have 2 of the biggest reality whores ever created in the MTV labs. Coral and Mike "The Miz" from Real World Back to New York. i swear, these 2 are just moments away from auditioning for Extreme Supermarket Sweep. they will compete in any reality event that will have them.

8 more minutes to go. yeah, i type slow, i know.

the downside to this show is we have to put up with Omarossa and Bob the Bachelor as "commentators." that's why god created the mute button. that's a waste of 2 carbon based life forms if there ever was.

Richard Hatch and Sue Hawk from the first Survivor are also competing on this show. in case you were wondering, he is still fat and she is still ugly. it's nice to have some consistency in this everchanging world. it makes me feel safe as a kitten. oops, almost forgot about Duncan Nutter from Showbiz Moms and Dads. yeah, he's still creepy and crazy. people never really change do they?

apparently, we get 5 more weeks of this. i wish it were more, but i don't like to look a gift horse in the mouth. and Bravo to the Bravo! network for running this on Wednesday nights so that it doesn't interfere with Big Brother 6. they know their audience and they know what we want, dammit.

3 minutes to go, which means it is time for this week's gratuitous John mayer pic.

i would give a limb to touch that man just once. and i would be willing to give up a good limb. not a leg, but my left arm. and i am left handed. THAT'S how much i love him. damn.

I Could Be A Stripper! Who Knew?

2005-08-20T22:10:00.000-07:00

so, i went shopping with my friend, lauren, today. i am not good at adding the links in the posts, but she is The Adnostic and you can click on the link to the left to read her. she's awesome.

first stop, Sephora. god, they now officially have ALL my money. i only bought two things, and one was an actual necessity. not too bad. while perusing every single aisle (is there any other way to shop at Sephora?) we came to the Jessica Simpson Dessert line of products. she hocks something called Belly Button Gloss. i was never bothered by the matte finish of my belly button. should i be? have i ever looked in the mirror and asked myself, "self, is my belly button glossy enough? if ONLY there was a candy scented product to gloss my belly button!" our prayers have been answered by Jessica. gloss away, gals, gloss away!

next stop, Victoria's Secret. i love panties and buy them compulsively (7 pairs in the last 3 days) but i just can't bring myself to buy panties with a keyhole right above the ass crack. i don't need a bullseye there, thankyouverymuch.

on to Bloomingdales for more bra and panty shopping. behind the register is huge wall of nothing but thong panties and the word "THONGS" above it. ah yes, the infamous Wall of Thongs. the women's magazines are always telling you to get professionally fitted for bras because 90% of us are wearing the wrong size. so, we ask the sales girl to measure us.

now, depending on the brand, i can comfortably wear a 34 or 36C. works for me, but just wanted to get measured out of curiosity. so, um, yeah, acording to this chick i am a 36EE. nope, not a typo. 36EE. what the fuck? if my boobs were that big, they would need their own zip code. i never see that size in stores. maybe it was her last day at work and was just intentionally fucking with people.

well, it's getting late, so me and my 36EE boobs are signing off.

Fat Girls in Skinny Clothes

2005-08-19T20:54:00.000-07:00

thanks to my new Sidekick, this will become a recurring feature on the Unholy Smell. well, it will as long as i can continue to take pics without getting my ass kicked.

I Probably Should Not Even Be Awake This Late At Night

2005-08-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

i am vain about many, many things. namely, my nails and my shoes, but one thing i am not vain about is my age. hell, i'll tell you right now i am 33 years old. and it doesn't bother me in the slightest. actually, my plan is, when i am 35, i will start telling people i am 40, so that they will look at me and say, "DAMN! you look GOOD for your age!"

my hair started going grey when i was in my early 20's and i have been coloring it ever since. oh, by the way, thanks for the defective genes, mom! but that didn't even bother me too much. one box of L'Oreal Feria later and no one was the wiser.

when i turned 30, it was honestly no big deal. it was just another number. i was not one of those women that locked herself in her bedroom for a week bemoaning her lost youth. hell, it was just another year and another excuse to go out drinking with my friends. and i got presents. how could that be bad?

but this morning, for the first time in my life, i FELT OLD. i was faced with the irrefutable evidence of my aging. oh god, it pains me to admit this, but today.....(deep breath and stifled sob)...... i had to put a medicated disk on my corn. yes, my descent into senior citizenship has started. i have a corn on my foot. that last sentence is probably the least sexy sentence ever uttered. grandmothers get corns. maiden aunts get corns. young, cute vibrant women DO NOT GET CORNS, DAMMIT!

what has happened to me? ten years ago i was out partying every weekend on the sunset strip. we partied thursday night, friday night, saturday night AND sunday night. we would puke it all up at 3am, then start drinking again the next night. but on sunday nights, we left the bars at 1am instead of 2am, because we had to work the next day and we needed our sleep, dontcha know. in my 20's i spent more time sleeping (read: passed out cold) on bathroom floors than i did sleeping in my own actual bed. flash forward to the present day, and if you call me and ask me to go out after work on a friday night, this is what you will hear from me:

*YAWN* are you serious? no, i am sorry, i am just too tired. maybe we can meet for lunch tomorrow afternoon. but i have to be home by 8pm because Big Brother is on and saturday nights are the Veto Competitions."

oh yeah, par-tay on bay-bee! what's next? an Ensure-Tini?

now, granted, i have noticed other signs of my impending middle age. the crepe-like texture of the skin on my neck, the fine lines on my face that are nestled next to my acne scars (side note: what kind of cruel joke is mother nature playing on me that i have to apply acne medicine AND wrinkle cream to my face every day? it should really be one or the other, not both. it's just not fair.) when i wake up in the mornings, parts of my body are stiff and my joints make weird noises. i am ok with the fact that i sound like a movie theater popcorn machine at 6am. i have accepted the fact that i am getting older. but that doesn't mean i have to surrender. but corns? oh, that just sucks ass.

next thing you know, i will be crocheting toilet paper cozies. if i ever make anything that can in any way be described as a "cozie" of any kind, you have my permission to take me out back and shoot me like Old Yeller. just do me a favor and make sure my medicated corn disks are removed before the viewing.

Girls, Girls, Girls

2005-08-14T20:44:00.000-07:00

i just had the girliest, most decadent weekend. you should all be envying me right now. god, what can't every weekend be like this? see, if i had a personal assistant to run all my crappy errands for me and do my laundry (but i would still wash my own panties, because the thought of someone else touching them creeps me out.) i could spend all my free time just pampering myself.

it all started friday nite. my friend, sherri, was in anaheim for a convention. i drove out there and met her at Downtown Disney. first stop, Sephora (duh!) where i am proud to report i only purchased ONE item. i won't tell you what that one item cost, though. because then i would have to kill you. but trust me, it was a GOOD item.

then we stopped in the big, mega Disney store. sherri was lamenting the fact that she could not find a particualr Disney Collectible Pin. apparently, pins are the new Beanie Babies. there is a huge community of people that buy, sell and trade these pins. as she is explaining this, a man walks over to her as says, "PSST!"

sherri acknowledges him and he cuts his eyes to the left, and then to right to make sure no one is listening in and proceeds to stage whisper that he knows a guy that trades them in Disneyland in front of one particular store. the whole time, he is checking over his shoulder. i have seen drug deals go down with less precaution. it was all so very cloak and dagger. and right in the middle of Downtown Disney, of all places! is nothing sacred, people?!?!

after that we went to dinner. sherri and i both have the misfortune of living in Sonic-Free cities. actually, this is a good thing, because if there was one within spitting distance, i would become the 400 Pound Woman of Los Angeles. but, since sherri and i both love The Sonic, that was where we had dinner. i ordered the Sonic sized tots, onion rings, a Sonic bacon cheeseburger and a DIET cherry limeade. watching those calories, dontcha know. i am happy to report that Carb-O-Polloza 2005 was a success!

sadly, the evening went by much too fast and i had to take her back to her hotel. i pull into the driveway and we were making our goodbyes when one of bellhop type guys opens my drivers side door because he thinks i want to valet my car. not expecting this, i screamed like a little girl. now the driver's seat in my car smells like pee.

saturday, some other girlfriends and i went to a VERY nice, full service spa. before our facials, we spent some time in the steam room and the jacuzzi. WE were wearing bathing suits. sadly, i cannot say the same for everyone else. yup, i was confronted with one of my pet peeves everytime i turned around. naked women. i never know where to look and it's just uncomfortable. although, my favorite "hi, i'm naked. please envy my flat tummy and fake, perky boobs" girl was spotted in the jacuzzi. naked as the day she was born, *except* for her gold belly chain. i just looked at her and thought to myself, "yup, you're getting blogged."

my facial was heavenly. i told the girl to focus on extraction and she went to town on my pores. she squeezed stuff out of my face that has been there since clinton was in office. right now, my face feels like a baby's butt. in a good way, not a nasty diaper rash-y kind of way.

at the spa i bought the most wonderful shower gel and body lotion set. (see my previous post to understand how ridiculous it is that i bought one more set of bath stuff) but i literally could not help myself. see, i have been searching high and low for a chocolate scented gel/lotion duo that DOESN'T smell like crap. i finally found it. it is made by a company called Bubalina. if i wasn't so damn lazy, i would find their web link and post it here. but, fuck it, if you can find my blog, you can certainly Google your own shit. trust me, this stuff is GOOD. i smell edible right now.

after the spa we went to dinner at P.F. Changs and had the most wonderful meal. and a few drinks. let's just say i HIGHLY recommend the Confucious Martini and leave it at that.

today, i bought a T-Mobile Sidekick. oh, i am already loving my Kicky. camera, email, phone and web browser all in one. i have to figure out all the features, but i don't think it will be that hard. for christsake, paris hilton figured it out and she's dumber than a box of rocks, so i am hopeful.

back to the real world tomorrow. blech.

I Could Find the Nearest Sephora with My Eyes Closed

2005-08-09T22:03:00.000-07:00

as i was taking a shower tonite, i looked around my bathroom and realized that i might, just maybe, have a teensy weensy problem. in my shower i have 16, yes, i counted, 16 bottles of shampoo and conditioner. this is in addition to the 7 different body washes, 4 scrubs and 3 face soaps. let's not forget the loofah, face brush, scrubby gloves and back brush! i am so overloaded on product, there is barely room for me in there anymore. when i stepped out the shower, i counted 38 bottles/jars/tubes of beauty products on my counter. i didn't even look under the sink and count all the stuff there because, well, frankly, i can't count that high without a calculator.

it's almost psychotic, notice i qualified that with an "almost." it is as if go into a fugue state when i enter Sephora. if you watch the security tapes, i am pretty sure you will see footage of me handing my bank card to a black clad saleswoman and saying, "got any new Philosophy 3-in-1 body washes? load me up. charge this baby til it screams."

for some reason, i TOTALLY buy into the mythology of the cosmetics industry. "well, if it costs $80 and comes in a pretty bottle, then it MUST be a superior product. THIS is the shampoo that will make me look JUST LIKE catherine zeta jones." what's sad is that this such a girly thing. guys don't buy this crap like we do. my best friend is a guy and about 2 years ago he came to spend the weekend at my house. when he walked into my bathroom, he starting laughing so hard he was in danger of cracking a rib. then he caught his breath, came back out and explained to me that a man can take a shower using nothing but a bar of soap. i was horrified. apparently, a man can use one bar of soap to wash his hair, clean his face, clean his body and lather up his naughty bits. i just cannot get my head around this. it was like he was speaking a foreign language. it kind of scared me a little.

i know i am not alone. so many of my girlfriends have succumbed to the Sephora Sickness. we need professional help. however, there is no 12 step program for us. but we don't *really* want to change,so here are our half assed 12 steps.

Step #1 - We admitted we were powerless over the Smashbox counter.

Step #2 - We came to believe that only a new bottle of Demeter fragrance could restore us to sanity.

Step #3 - Made a decision to turn our skin and our pocketbooks over to Bobbi Brown.

Step #4 - Made a searching a fearless inventory of our makeup bags. Yes, i do NEED 16 lipsticks.

Step #5 - Admitted only to God and our very best girlfriend *exactly* how much we spent on that Chanel lipstick.

Step #6 - We were entirely ready to have Dr. Perricone remove all defects from our pores.

Step #7 - Humbly asked the girl at the Lancome counter for an extra "gift with purchase" for a "friend."

Step #8 - Made a list of all the Stila clerks we had abused because they were sold out of the blush that Allure magazine called the "must have of the season" and made amends to them all. We apologize for scaring the clerk so badly she gave us extra samples just to make us go away.

Step #9 - Made direct amends to all those clerks, except when to do so would have cost them their job.

Step #10 - Continued to take a personal inventory, and when we ran out of eyeliner, promptly went to Nordstrom's and bought more.

Step #11 - Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our relationship with Bare Escentuals, praying for the knowledge that would allow us to "Swirl, Tap and Buff" just like the girls in the informercials.

Step #12 - Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of Biolage shampoo, seeking to share this knowledge with others.

ok, girls, our first meeting will be held at the Kiehl's counter. we will be giving away free samples of #1 lip balm in lieu of coffee and donuts. the line forms to the right. one sample per person, please.

Notes From the Pits of Hell

2005-08-07T20:58:00.000-07:00

i was born and bred in los angeles. this is MY town, dammit. i love almost everything about it. the diverse cultures, the energy, the people and the shopping. the only other city that feels like "home" to me is manhattan. having traveled all over this country, i can honestly say that i would not thrive in any other city.

one of my best friends lives in iowa and i have been there a few times to visit her. if she didn't live there, i would never set foot in that state ever again. i just don't love corn that much. well, i might swing by there once a year to hit the thrift stores. the cool thing about Podunk, USA is that they wouldn't know fashion if if slapped them in the face. i always find the coolest clothes in their thrift stores. iowans must receive these fabulous cashmere sweaters from their hip relatives in NY and immediately donate them to goodwill. if they haven't seen it in the WalMart Winter Fashions Collection, they don't trust it. their ignorance becomes my $3 score.

one of the things i love about los angeles is being able to go to breakfast at Waffles N More and looking over to see Joey Lawrence at the table next to me, scarfing down his eggs benedict. or going to the movies and realizing that Pacey is sitting 3 rows ahead of me. i am a total entertainment whore and this just tickles me. i ain't never seen anna nicole at the Taco Tico in iowa.

i tell you this, because right now i fucking hate this place and i need to remember why i live here. it's august and it's 103 bajillion degrees outside at 9pm. basically, the Valley is just a desert that someone built houses on, and god help me, we bought one of them. truly, i hate summer and everything that goes along with it. this heat just sucks the lifeforce right out of me. i have spent the better part of today becoming one with my bed. even with the a/c on, i can barely make that long trek to the kitchen to refill my martini glass. and that my friends, is truly tragic.

some people LOVE this weather. i hate them. can someone please explain to me what is the point of "laying out?" what is the appeal of flinging your body onto the 100 degree ground and laying there in the heat, sweating like winona ryder in front a security camera at nieman marcus? then they have their cute little spray bottles of water that they use to "mist" themselves. you wanna "mist" yourself, go take a shower. newsflash, they make self tanners. this is not necessary.

if i was allowed to carry a concealed weapon, i would spend the whole summer driving around in my air conditioned car and shooting those fools that you see JOGGING at 12 noon. they really can't be contributing much to the gene pool and i don't think they would be missed. BANG!

and in los angeles, summer means tourists. yeah, yeah, yeah, i know they help our economy and are good for business, blah, blah, blah. but they are in my way and make the traffic even worse. driving in los angeles is not THAT hard. you can always spot these poor fools on the freeways. there they are in their rented minivan, white knuckling the steering wheel, desperately trying to change lanes. just DO IT and get out of my way! GOSH!

i hate this heat so much, it just makes me want to shoot myself. but i don't even have the energy to pull the trigger.

Big Green Men I Have Loved

2005-08-03T21:55:00.000-07:00

in addition to liking the girly boys, i apparently like the green guys. most of my childhood icons were, well, green. i don't know what this says about me as a person. maybe it's just a natural extension of my personality. i am completely shallow and materialistic, and money is green. i like lettuce and that's green. absinthe is green and i have been dying to get my hands on some of that stuff. hey, any liqour that can rot out your insides and liquify your brain, i gotta try. my favorite brand of tampons come in a green wrapper (FYI gals, tampax pearl. so worth the extra cost.) but i don't like mold, it's nasty. and i don't like the green bay packers. i don't give a flying rat's ass about football and their fans wear cheese wedges on their heads. that's just dumb. but overall, green is good.

for some strange reason, as a child i just LOVED the jolly green giant. i had made my mom buy my the doll and i carried that thing around until it fell apart. he's was a little buffer than i normally like my men, but i was willing to overlook a few flaws. my love was pure. this was the only pic i could find of jolly online and i have no clue what those words mean. basically, the lack of jolly green giant pics leads me to believe i am alone in this particular obsession. it wouldn't be the first time.

ah, gumby. what's not to love about him? he's just so bendy. and his high pitched voice probably ties back to my whole girly boy thing.

sundays nights were the highlight of my week. "the muppet show" was the original must see tv. while i have loved other muppets, i have loved none other as long as kermit. i had a passing fascination with miss piggy and scooter stole my heart for awhile in the late 70's.
but it always comes back to kermit.
truer words were never spoken.

my one true love, though, has always been H.R. Pufnstuf. when that show would come on, my world would come to a screeching halt. at the time, the show made sense to me. magic flutes and talking owls. yeah, sure, i'm down with that. unfortunately, i have watched this show as an adult, and now realize the Krofft brothers were higher than kites and getting paid to make children's television. but, my love, it shall survive. as you shall see.

that's me and The Puf (he lets me call him that) about 5 years ago at a Krofft Brothers Auction. look at the pure mania on my face. i think i might have actually been peeing my pants when that pic was taken. when our lifelong dreams are realized, bladder control becomes secondary.

here's The Puf in drag. even at age 5, i knew trannies were hot. god, why did my family never put me in therapy?

ok, i'll be totally honest here. i do love shrek, but i love donkey more. anytime i see any shrek stuff in stores, i am complled to start braying, "DON-KEEEEY!" shopping with me is FUN.

completely gratuitous john mayer pic just for the hell of it. but, hey, he *is* wearing a green shirt. and he's just so pretty. look at those arms. have i mentioned the arms? if i haven't, they ROCK.MY.WORLD. besides, after what i paid an eBay scalper today for just ONE ticket to his show next month, i gotta remind myself why he's worth it. and he is, baby, he totally is.

Here's What I Can Remember About BlogHer

2005-08-01T22:03:00.000-07:00

i am back home and in my own bed. ahhhh. let me just say i had a great time and learned a lot. met some fascinating chicks and made some new friends. it was uber fabu.

saturday night is a drunken, blurry memory. it is now 48 hours later and i might still be drunk. let me start by saying those mommy bloggers know how to PAR-TAY! damn, they were still going at it when i stumbled back to my room. i remember thinking i should ask the front desk for a 9am wake up call, but have zero recollection of actually making said call. but i must have, because i was rather surprised when my phone rang at 9am. props to the operator at the westin hotel that was actually able to decipher Slurred Drunkenese and put that request thru for me. you rock hard.

that night, there were pictures taken that mean i can now never run for office. and if any of you bitches post them on your blog, i will hunt you down and cut you. remember, my granny is still alive and she is talking about getting internet access sometime soon. let's not give her any reason to disown me, a'ight? peace out.

one of the things i learned at the conference is that i am what is known as an "identity blogger." and i guess my identity is bitchy and snarky. this comes as no surprise to those who know me well. what it really means is that i just like to talk about myself and my opinions. a lot.

it was so surreal to meet people that actually read this and have them reference things i have written in here. surreal, but TOTALLY COOL, also. the only downside to this is that we fell into the habit of referring to each other by our blog names. for some this was ok. "hey, look it's Dooce!" or "i just had the best conversation with Mighty Girl." not so cool if you are me and people come up to you and say, "oh wow, you are the unholy smell." that's something you really can't hear enough.

i think my favorite moment came in one session where a woman stood up and announced she is polyamorous. because, really, what can anyone say after that? there is no topping that one.

On the Road Again

2005-07-31T22:40:00.000-07:00

i drove up to Santa Clara Friday for the BlogHer conference. it was a 6 hour drive thru the bowels of california. sometimes i forget that cali is actually an agricultural state. a drive thru central california is all the reminder i needed that we are more than los angeles and san fran. there are parts of california that smell like cow. that funk just creeps into your car and LINGERS for MILES. looking at the cows standing there baking in the sun, i wondered, when it is 100 degrees outside like it is now, does the milk inside of them curdle? when we spend too much time in the sun, we say our skin gets "leathery." does their hide actually turn to leather by the end of summer? yeah, i'm real fun on road trips, dontcha know?

i finally get past Cow Funk, CA and then 100 miles up the road i sail into Gilroy, CA. it is the garlic capital of the world and it smells like it, too. the whole town reeks of eau de Olive Garden. just without the all you can eat breadsticks.

so, i finally get to Santa Clara. i am hot, tired, cranky and i needed a shower. and my hair looked funky, and not in a good way, either. really, pretty much like any other day, except i was 400 miles from home. as i start to walk into the hotel, i was accosted by three protesters. they tried to offer me a flyer explaining their cause. i was very polite (i SWEAR i was) and refused the flyer. that's when the girl protester starts SCREAMING at me, "SHAME ON YOU! SHAME ON YOU!! EDUCATE YOURSELF! SHAME ON YOU!" she really needs to work on her sales pitch.

i kept on walking and without turning around, i raised my arm and flipped her off. hey, she pissed me off. then the little peacenik screams at me, "REAL MATURE, MA'AM. REAL MATURE!" i love that she called me ma'am.

now really, what can you be protesting about at a hotel? seriously, what is the hotel doing? slaughtering babies, amputating their feet, coating them in hot sauce and selling the feet as imitation hot wings during happy hour? even if they are, i don't give a damn. i don't like hot wings.

after checking in, i get to my room and find that i am the worst packer in the world. it would be easier to tell you what i did pack, instead of all the things i forgot. one of the things i forgot my hairbrush. all weekend, my hair was just tragic. i have seen homeless people with better hair than i had going on.

i also forgot my razor. today, from the knees down, i am impersonating a Yeti. GGGRRRRR!

i have so much more to tell, but i am EXHAUSTED. so you will just have to wait until tomorrow.

Yeah, This is Going to Fuckin' ROCK!

2005-07-31T09:08:00.000-07:00

after the blogher conference yesterday, my fellow bloggers and i hung out and bonded. we laughed til we cried, we shared, we cared and many incriminating photos were taken. oh yeah, we also got sidewalk licking drunk.

just a teensy bit hungover today (that was sarcasm, people. if you were to cut me right now i would probably bleed grey goose vodka) and now i get to drive 6 hours thru the california heat to get home. that drive is gonna suck ass, i'm guessing. i am so not looking forward to this drive. hey, this is 2005. according to the jetsons, aren't we supposed to have that technology by now that lets us teleport from one place to another? i would really like a teleporter right now. i really would.

pray for me.

Jelly and Dooce Starring in the New Movie "Chins of Death"

2005-07-30T07:02:00.000-07:00

yeah, that's me and dooce. we're totally BFF now.

actually, i am in santa clara at the blogher conference and having a blast. heather is on one of today's panels. she's super nice and surrounded by dooce groupies such as myself.

more to come later. gotta go spackle on some makeup and get my ass down to registration/breakfast before they run out of bagels.

My Eyes Are Up HERE, Buddy!

2005-07-26T19:29:00.000-07:00

the other day i was standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change so i could cross the street. while i was there, a man came up to me, looked down and said, "nice pedicure." the comment didn't strike me as ll that odd because i get that A LOT. and when it happens, it means one of two things:

1.) he is gay.
2.) he is a straight man with a foot fetish.

usually, these guys fall into the second category. see, the thing is, i have very pretty feet. now, i am not one to brag on myself. in fact, my mom says i am not allowed to call myself ugly here anymore. it is verbotten. but i do know i have some nice features. i have good hair and lots of it, perfectly shaped lips and yes, pretty feet. i think the good hair is meant to make up for the unfortunate thighs, but it doesn't. it really doesn't. i so got screwed on that deal.

i get pedis every two weeks and tend to wear shoes that show a lot of foot. so, if there is a man within a five mile radius with a foot fetish, he will find me. i was once at a party and spent 30 minutes talking to a guy that never once looked me in the face. he spent the whole time looking at my feet and wiping the drool off of his chin. admittedly, my feet were looking super pretty that day. blood red polish and red strappy, sexy shoes. now i know how girls with big boobs feel when guys talk directly to their chests.

part of me is tempted to post a pics of my tootsies here just so you can see how very pretty they are, but i know better. i have a traffic meter on this site and it allows me to see what people have googled that brought them here. can i just say that there are some sick ass motherfuckers out there with high speed internet connections?

here are some things that people have googled that landed them here:

1.) john mayer nude - girls, if there were naked pics of my man out there, i would have found them by now. but, if perchance you do happen to run across some, please feel free to email a high-res copy of them to jellyblog@hotmail.com - just to prove me wrong, you know.

2.) fat chicks in capris - why? why? why? who has capri fetish? man, people will get off on ANYTHING! if you were to tell me that there are people in this world with a campbell's soup can fetish and that they beat off looking at pics of chicken noodle, i honestly don't think i would be all that surprised. i wouldn't be able to eat soup for a long time, but i would not be surprised.

3.) enemas - people google many variations on that theme. i can't even bring myself to tell you about all of them.

4.) hot asian chicks - god, that phrase gets googled more than any other. yellow fever has reached epidemic proportions. can't we vaccinate men against this?

so, knowing that, there is no way in hell i am going to post pics of my feet. i would see some guy google "foot fetish" and then see that he had spent 40 minutes on this site, and i would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was spanking the monkey while looking at my feet. with that knowledge, the last little happy part of me would shrivel up and die. and then i would be bitter and unlovable. the ray of sunshine that is me would fade away and all that would be left is a kate spade purse full of cynicism and despair.

i guy i dated once asked me if he could suck my toes. i did not come right out and say "no" but i think the look of pure horror on my face conveyed the message fairly well. you see, the irony of this is, i can't stand to have my feet touched. can't stand it and will scream like a howler monkey on crack if you even try.

Surprisingly, They Were Not Selling Any Books

2005-07-24T14:00:00.000-07:00

although, it is not as bad as the one i saw the other day

HUGH YARD SALE

well, seen as how i am not really in the market right now for a guy named Hugh, i kept driving.

Xmas 2003 AKA the Year of the Cheese

2005-07-19T20:47:00.000-07:00

i know it's not december yet, but something reminded me of this the other day, and i feel compelled to share. let me set the scene: christmas day at granny's.

cast of characters:
me - cute as a button as always
mom - cute as a button as always, Sr.
granny - 73 years old and sharp as a tack
grandpa - 90 years old and still somewhat sharp
my uncle - he's not a complicated man, but funny as hell
my brother - Lord God King of the Dorks
my brother's girlfriend - now, the first time the family met her, my mom turned to me and said, "could my son please just date ONE woman with all her teeth?" later that same day, it came up in conversation that i have a few tattoos. in all earnestness, this chick turned to me and asked, "oh, did you get those done in a shop?" where did she think i got them? juvie? did she expect me to say, "oh yeah, i was serving a nickel for armed robbery and got some ink while i was in the big house." so, you now know all you need to know about her.

the ritual gorging (why, yes, i would love a 3rd helping of pie!) is over. my family and i are bloated, sick to our stomachs, yet, still eyeballing the leftover ham. it's time to open presents!

presents are ripped open and oohed and aahed over appropriately. the grandparents know me well, they know what i like, so they give me cash. my uncle also knows me really well, and he too gives me cash. so far, so good.

now it's time for my brother and his girlfriend to give us their presents. for the sake of brevity, the girlfriend shall hence forth be known as Snaggletooth. so, Snaggle hands me a box. i rip it open to find what can only be described as the ugliest ashtray in the WORLD. it's a ceramic dog laying on it's back with all four paws in the air. the ashtray rests on the paws. temporarily speechless in the face of such a glaring example of Redneck Decor, i muttered some kind of thank you.

next, they hand my mom her box of presents. now, what you need to know about my mom is that the nose on her face is wholly decorative. it serves no other purpose than holding her glasses up. she cannot smell a thing. nothing. if there was a rotting, decaying buzzard in the room, she would not know it until she stepped on it and heard the squish. that being said, she opens her box to find one of those cheap ass, swap meet quality Gel Candles. she takes the lid off of the candle and sniffs. mom's face went two shades whiter than i had thought humanly possible. she QUICKLY replaced the lid and choked out a thank you. i then made the tragic mistake of sniffing the candle myself. i now know what hell smells like.

Snaggletooth gives my grandfather his gift. with much anticipation on our part, he opens it and pulls out the fugliest fleece lined indian moccasins known to man. in addition to being butt ugly, they are HUGE. grandpa is a tiny man. hell, he was over 90 years old and had been shrinking for years. these slippers were so big he could have crawled into them and taken a nap.

then Snaggles hefts a box over to the table where my uncle is sitting. before she hands him his treasure she asks, "do you like cheese?"

"um, yeah."

she drops the box on the table. it landed with a THUD! so we knew it was either a cannonball or a shitload of cheese. he opens it to find, surprise, a two pound ball of swiss cheese. when Snaggles was out of earshot he turned to me and said, "why does she want to make sure i never poop again?"

soon after, Snaggles and King Dork leave. in the spirit of my family, we (mom, me, granny and uncle) start to make fun of the gifts because we firmly believe The Family That Snarks Together, Stays Together. all this time, my grandfather has been quiet.

after about 15 minutes of us marvelling at the wonder that is the cheese ball of death he says, "don't make fun of them. they can't help it if they are retarded."

and that is probably my favorite memory of my grandfather.

If I Could Have Castrated Him, I Would

2005-07-13T21:41:00.000-07:00

i don't try to be a bitch, but sometimes my mouth acts faster than my brain. mom can attest to this. when it happens, she steps slowly away from me and looks around like, "i don't know that lunatic, never met her in my life. nope." but the fact that i look exactly like her usually tips people off. however, i can usually exercise some self control. i am not completely unevolved. i exhibited so much restraint today i should get a fucking medal.

i am sitting at panda express, eating my lunch, reading a book and minding my own business, like the good little girl i am. i generally go sit in the back corner so as not to be disturbed. i am happily chowing down on my yummy yummy orange chicken when 3 men come and sit at the table next to mine. i ignore them and continue eating.

they start talking. now, i wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but they weren't trying to be quiet, either. one man is bemoaning the fact that his wife put on "tons of weight" when she was pregnant.

"yeah dude, she used to weigh 127, but then she ballooned up to 160!!! she's so fucking fat!"

deep breaths, jelly, deep breaths. now, my instinct was to turn to him and say, "OH.MY.GOD. one hundred sixty pounds! jesus h. christ, have you considered gastric bypass surgery for her? will richard simmons have to come to your house and cut a wall down to pry her fat ass out of there? you poor, poor thing, you must have to wear a blindfold when you fuck her. you are a SAINT for not leaving her, a freaking SAINT!"

but i kept my mouth shut because this place is right near my office and lots of people from my work were there. they think i am nice. they do not need to know the truth.

so, i am sitting there, fuming, thinking, "who is this redneck asshole?" i was expecting some lowlife, nascar watching, beer swilling, joe ray bob type to be sitting there, scratching his ass while spouting this neanderthal bullshit. i slide my eyes over in his direction and found out i was WRONG. this dude had a shirt and tie and looked like joe average businessman. people, THEY WALK AMONG US. this jerkwad cut off his mullet, fixed his teeth and passes for normal. well, until he opens his mouth, anyway.

and may i just point out that this adonis was half bald and had a pot belly? yeah buddy, i am sure your "fat" wife loves looking at you naked, too. never mind the fact that she GREW A HUMAN BEING inside of her. oh, so sorry she had to put on a few pounds to nourish your demon spawn.

i contemplated grabbing my plastic knife and jabbing him in the nads with it. but i took the high road and calmly cleared my tray and walked out. i am maturing so fast, i might almost be mistaken for a reasonable adult. almost.

Judy Blume Never Covered This

2005-07-12T22:32:00.000-07:00

apparently, i come from a long line of early developing, big boobed she women. of course, you would not know this to look at me. i didn't get my boobs until high school. all the other women in my family started their periods at age 8 or 9. so, as a pre-emptive strike, mom gave me "the talk" when i was 8 years old. she explained what i could expect and showed me how to use a maxi pad. well, Little Miss Late Bloomer Jelly didn't get her first period until she was 13 years old.

so, there i am, age 13, not shocked, but a little surprised. i was calm because i figured i knew what to do. it happened during school hours, so i got my dime (yes, back then, they were only a dime in the vending machines), went to bathroom, and bought a pad out of the machine and took care of business.

flash forward about 4 hours. i knew it was time to "change the pad." (god, is there a grosser sentence than that?) i go to the bathroom, and quickly yank the pad away.

*insert scream of bloody murder* (no pun intended)

i had stuck the pad to MYSELF and NOT to my panties. that was my first at home bikini wax.

i have gotten better at it since then.

She's Turning A Different Kind of Trick Now

2005-07-10T19:59:00.000-07:00

i went to a child's birthday party yesterday. not usually my favorite way to spend a saturday afternoon. did you know they don't serve drinks at these events? but i actually love these kids, so i go and sit thru endless games of musical chairs and pinata bashing. as part of the entertainment, the family hired a magician. it was a female magician and her assistant, Peanuts, who appeared to be her 13 year old daughter dressed as a clown. that girl may be hating her life right now, but in 10 years she will be able to write a really interesting coming of age memoir. "Peanuts, A Childhood Coated in Greasepaint and the Stench of Humiliation."

the magician looked, for lack of a better term, rode hard and put away wet. she had the look of an ex smack addict that has gotten clean and turned her life around. i imagine she had no legal, marketable skills, so she bought a book on magic and hit the kid's party circuit. she is no longer high on dope, she's high on MAGIC!

as i watched her show, i realized that she had most likely incorporated some of her old druggie skills and lifestyle into her act. stick with what you know, as they say.

this is the rabbit she uses in the act. she now calls him SnoBall, but i'm pretty certain he used to answer to the name 8-Ball.

here she is performing the classic rope trick. i am not sure how it works, but those are probably the ropes she used to use to tie off with. she gets 2 points for recycling!

the sleight of hand tricks she used to shoplift groceries and tampons back in the day are now part of her "now you see it, now don't" tricks.

LOOK! no more track marks! it's magic!

yes, this is how i amuse myself at kid's parties.

and just for kicks and giggles, here is a pic of my best friend. the party had a superhero theme and everyone was supposed to wear costumes. he was Underdog.i am usually exempt from having to wear one because i have to drive 3 hours to get there (yes, i love these kids THAT much), so they let me slide. driving that long in a costume is NOT fun. trust me, i have done it. and there is no joy like stopping for gas and soda dressed like Pocohantas in the middle of the day.

I Am Just A Victim of Genetics

2005-07-07T19:47:00.000-07:00

my obssession with the lovely Mr. John Mayer is really not too surprising. i have loads of celebrity crushes, but what is surprising is that John Mayer appears to be straight and somewhat masculine. see, that's kind of a new one for me. most of my celeb heart throbs tend to be a little on the, shall we say, girly side. i am not talking about my girl crushes, i am talking about the men.

my longest, all time favorite, number one, forever and ever crush is on

oh, my beloved Nick Rhodes. i have been head over heels for this guy for well over 20 years now. i can distinctly remember the first time i saw him. it's like it was yesterday. "Planet Earth" was their first big single. i was watching mtv and that video came on and my heart just STOPPED. i was IN LOVE. and i still am. he could have a horribly disfiguring battery acid accident and i would STILL jump on him and ride him until he cracked a rib.

my preteen diaries were filled with pages and pages professing my undying love him and i just KNEW we would be together one day. still hasn't happened, but if i don't have hope, then i have NOTHING.

i love every single thing about him. the makeup, the overly stylized hair, his slight frame. yup, love it all.

it gets worse. one of my more recent celeb crushes is a transvestite. yes, you read that correctly.

oh, Eddie Izzard melts my butter. yes, the guy in the skirt puts me in a naughty frame of mind. he's hotter than a woodchuck''s ass in august. and couple that with the fact that he is freaking brilliant, well, let's just say he wouldn't even have to buy me dinner first.

my taste in men might seem a little disturbing. hell, it disturbs me sometimes. i don't know what it is about boys in makeup, but it works for me. but if we look a little deeper, we will see that, really, i am genetically preprogrammed to like the girly boys.

take it back one generation. who is my mom's all time crush? which beefcake makes her heart pitter patter?

the legendary, and openly gay Richard Chamberlin. mom knows he's a member of the queer boy nation, and she always has. she doesn't care. she still wants him. she wants him BAD. you know what the highlight of the 1980's was for her? it wasn't my graduation from a very prestigious private school, or her son graduating, or her meteoric career rise. nope, it was "The Thorn Birds." five sensuous nights of him as priest lusting after maggie. mom was like a giddy little school girl that week. she finally calmed down from that, then "Shogun" came along. she about died and went to heaven that week.

so, it would maybe seem that this maybe runs in the family. well, here's where we cement the deal. let's go back one more generation.

my granny's current celeb crush

and yes, granny knows he is gay, and no, she doesn't care either. she thinks he's "cute." granny just loves Alan Cummings. i once called her to let her know that he was on a talk show that i was watching. she said, "thanks. what channel? ok, talk to you later." she hung up without even saying goodbye. i was stunned! usually it takes about 20 minutes to get my granny off the phone. i guess that makes him Granny Phone Kryptonite. but then she called me after the show was over to talk about how "cute" he was in the interview. he had talked about going commando underneath his kilt and the chafing that it caused, and she thought it was "cute." i think she might even have giggled at one point. as owen meany would say, "THAT GAVE ME THE SHIVERS."

find me a boy that shops at sephora more often than i do and that can walk in 3-inch heels better than i do, and i will be saying "I Do."

Magenta Alert! We Are Missing One Queer Boy!

2005-07-03T20:12:00.000-07:00

i'm not real proud of this, but i have never missed one episode of mtv's "the real world." nope, not one. i even managed to watch the whole dreadful paris season. yeah, THAT'S dedication, baby. that one was mindnumbingly dull. but, i watched. and now i am a little dumber for having done so, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

so, of course, i have been watching the new austin season. and it occured to me. where's the gay guy? we ALWAYS have at least one gay guy. hell, last season, we got two. and the two psycho sluts kissing in the hot tub in the first episode DO NOT COUNT. i HATE chicks that make out with each other just to get guys hot. i just wanted to hold their heads underwater until the kicking stopped.

the last few seasons have been a hedonistic fest of drinking and fucking and drinking and fucking and drinking and fucking. the girls are probably just submitting porn tapes in lieu of audition tapes. and the guys probably send in videos of themselves getting arrested for DUI's.

i miss the old seasons when the people were actually *gasp* interesting, thinking individuals. remember Julie from the first season? she was the dancer from alabama. it was so fascinating to watch her in "the big city" learning about new people and generally growing as person. the last little southern girl we had was Trishelle from the las vegas season. the only thing she learned about new people was whether or not they were circumsized. and every season since then, there has been at least one nasty little hobag in the house. who ARE these girls? my god, they spread their legs more often than a chinese acrobat.

in the confessionals, these girls will look right into the camera and declare, "i love sex. i can't go 3 days without getting laid. this year alone i have slept with 23 guys. yeah, it's been a slow year for me." do they have mothers? grandmothers? now, my granny doesn't watch a lot of mtv (that i know of, but you never know with her) but if i were on tv, i know she would tune in. she would have a STROKE if i said that on national tv. now, i can't speak for these other chicks, but i ain't trying to kill my granny.

and who are they putting out for? the guys of the last few seasons have mostly been alcoholic frat boys with rage issues. i wouldn't let any of those losers glimpse my panties, let alone sleep with them. eeeewwwww.

and where's this season's angry black chick? god help me, i never thought i would say this, but i actually miss Coral. these drunken sluts are too busy buying cases of monistat 7 to get angry about racial inequalities, real or imagined. but, i bet if you threatened to make g-strings illegal, these tramps would take to the streets in protest. NO THONGS, NO PEACE!

i guess the gays weren't promiscuous enough for mtv. which totally makes me laugh, because the christian coalition would LOVE to have you believe that gays are immoral, non stop fucking machines that do nothing more than spread disease. but every season, it's been the straight cast members who have been fucking like bunnies. take THAT jerry falwell!!

memo to mtv: bring back the mo.

The Only Kind of Cosmo I Like Has Vodka In It

2005-06-27T21:11:00.000-07:00

hi, my name is jelly and i am an addict. i am powerless over my addiction. i cannot stop buying magazines. i will buy almost any magazine. lured by the glossy covers and promises of exclusive interviews, i go into a fugue state at the newsstand and can easily spend $50 on magazines in one day. i do subscribe to a few, namely Entertainment Weekly and US. those are my guilty pleasures and they arrive every friday. they are like a little present to me, a "hey, jelly, you made it thru the week without slapping anyone and getting arrested! CONGRATS! as your reward, here are 4 more pics of lindsay lohan's anorexically thin thighs. YOU ROCK!" gift. and you most certainly don't want to be around me if they arrive a day late. i can pout for a solid hour just because my weekly dose of britney's bump is 24 hours behind schedule.

other magazines i love and buy like clockwork are Glamour, Bust and Allure. i don't really care for Marie Claire too much, though. while most of the articles are good, every single month there is some hugely depressing article on 12 year olds getting cliterdectomies in tanza-botswa-stani. yeah, yeah, yeah, i know these are important issues that need to be brought to the public's attention, but i feel weird getting all idignant over that, then flipping the page and going, "OOOHHHH! look at the new self tanners! i gotta try those." it just reminds me how shallow i really am.

but there is one magazine that i just can't bring myself to buy. it is the most vapid, inane trite piece of crap ever. yes, you know i am talking about Cosmopolitan. i read it for a few years in my late teens/early 20's until one day, i had the Cosmo Epiphany. it's the same magazine month after month after month. the articles NEVER change, just the pictures. whoever publishes this is a freakin' genius. i mean think about it. they rotate out the same 20 articles. they never have to do any actual work. i imagine the Cosmo offices are deserted 29 days out of the month. then one day, the 2 staffers come in, rearrange the pics and text, and voila! July's issue is done. it's brilliant, really.

every month, the headlines on the cover promise 10 SHOCKING SEX SECRETS THAT WILL ROCK YOUR WORLD!! you know what the secret is? are you sitting down for this? men like blow jobs. I KNOW! you could have knocked me over with a feather. that's information worth paying $3.99 for.

then there is the monthly exercise and diet program that promises to get your body bikini ready in 2 weeks. the only thing that would get my body bikini ready in 2 weeks is a 2 week bout of food poisoning. even then, AT BEST, i MIGHT be ready for a tankini.

the "why don't you section" never fails to make me roll my eyes all the way into the back of my head. they offer super duper helpful tips on how to be the BEST YOU THAT YOU CAN BE. shaving my pubes into a heart shape does not make me a better person, i am fairly positive. i might make me a nicked and bloody person, though. hell, i can barely draw a heart with a pen and paper and i supposed to sculpt my bikini line into a topiary? that's just an accident waiting to happen.

hey, but then, i would have a story to submit to the "embarassing moments" section! those so-called confessions are such bullshit. i mean REALLY! how many girls do you know that have been caught having sex on their in laws antique dining room table? by the family priest? according to Cosmo, it seems to happen like clockwork.

these girls must be the same idiots that write into the "relationship questions" column.
"dear cosmo,
my boyfriend has a large gay porn collection and will only have sex with me if i am wearing a police officer's uniform. he also has a large collection of broadway showtunes. do you think he's gay?
signed,
confused in columbus

dear confused,
he's not gay. he's just REALLY REALLY REALLY in touch with his feminine side."

they also offer cutting edge relationship advice. did you know men don't like high maintenance women? did you know that men like to think they are in control? oh, and in case it didn't sink in the first 300 times they printed the article, men like blow jobs. take note.

they really should just be honest and rename the magazine You Are A Raging Moron and We Are Ripping You Off for Another $4 This Month.

Jelly - The Early Years

2005-06-23T17:46:00.000-07:00

i got a scanner yesterday and have now become a SCANNING MANIAC! i seriously cannot stop. don't sit there laughing at me. i know everyone else in the free world had one 7 years ago, but i never did and this makes me happy, so shut the hell up and enjoy this trip down memory lane. then post comments and tell me how cute i was.

obviously, i have NEVER had any maternal instincts and this kid knew it. look at him struggling to get away from me. he knew even then that my uterus is purely decorative.

my 1st grade photo

my mom spent the better part of my childhood trying to coax my stick straight marcia brady-esque hair into curls. and this was long before the invention of those comfy, foam rollers. oh no, my rollers had TEETH! and i had to sleep with those damn torture devices in my head. i still have perma dents in my skull from those fucking things. WAS IT WORTH IT, MOM? WAS IT?

i think the bunny peed on me

this is a scan of a crappy polaroid, but it is the classic "i lost my front teeth" photo. here is where i most resemble my paternal hillbilly relatives. all that's missing is the chewing tobacco and a sister cousin.

looking at the expression on my face, i can only guess that 30 seconds after this was taken, i pulled a glock out of that xmas stocking and blew the photographer to smithereens. i have always been filled with the holiday spirit.

if you dare make fun of my bitchin' knee socks or basket, i wil let go of the dog's collar and happily watch her rip your throat out.

RIP Ruckus

2005-06-20T18:24:00.000-07:00

today we had to put him to sleep due to the cancer. he was the most loved and most lovable dog i have ever known. everyone who met him fell instantly in love with him. he was our baby and he will be missed more than i can say.

more pics as per mandy's request

BUSTED in the pantry - he was hunting milkbones

ALL TONGUE ALL THE TIME

Oh, I Didn't Realize You Don't Own A Mirror. How Sad for You.

2005-06-19T21:43:00.000-07:00

i can't believe i really have to spell this out for you people, but i have witnessed some especially heinous crimes of fashion recently, so i feel honor bound to educate.

*it is never appropriate to wear skin tight beige linen pants with black underwear. and if your black panties are so tight that they segment your ass and you appear to have 4 butt cheeks, i will be forced to shoot you with a poison blow dart and drag your barely breathing self to victoria's secret where i will show you the magic that is known as the nude thong. the nude thong is your friend.

*now, let's say you actually get it right and wear the thong. ok, 2 points for effort. but if your pants are STILL so tight that i can see the outline of your thong, well, that hurts my heart. there is no shame in buying pants that actually fit. look into it. you won't be sorry.

*one of my current favorite shows is "family business" on showtime. i do so love trainwreck tv. the "star" of this show is adam glaser. adam, you are a porn king and probably make 87 bajillion dollars a year. why do you continue to wear sleeveless flannel shirts circa 1992? and the hair, oh the hair. adam, adam, adam. long, naturally curly, greying hair on a grown man? well, if people didn't know you were in porn before, one look at that your white boy jheri curl tells them all they need to know.

*capris and cankles. there is nothing wrong with having cankles. it's a disability like any other. but wearing capris is akin to shining a klieg light on them and wearing a sandwich board that says, "hi. my calves are so fat they have swallowed my ankles." and wearing heels does not diminsh them. it doesn't. it just makes you look like a hippo on stilts.

*velour sweatsuits a la juicy couture. they were ugly five years ago and they are ugly now. they flatter no one. burn it. please. and if you don't, i will. and i will probably do it while you are still wearing it. so save yourself the first degree burns and get rid of the ugly mofo.

*spray painted on jeans. wearing clothes 2 sizes too small DOES NOT make you look 2 sizes smaller. it just makes you look like a sausage link that can't take a deep breath. it pains me to look at you.

*fellas, satin shirts only belong on guys named guido with questionable family connections. and when the light catches your shirt at just the right angle, the glare is blinding. and the buttons on your shirts are not decorative. they serve a function. please keep your chest hair under wraps. it grosses me out.

*billy ray bob, your metallica tshirt came with sleeves. i know it did. why do you feel it necessary to cut them off and expose you arms and pits to the world? i don't even have to look up to know you are sporting a mullet. yes, you are that predictable. now hop into your camaro and zip on down to the swap meet and get a new shirt. one with sleeves.

and this has been my good deed for the day. carry on.

Go Speedracer! Go Speedracer! Go Speedracer, GO!

2005-06-15T19:38:00.000-07:00

being the creature of habit that i am, i take the exact same route to work every morning. part of this trip requires i travel on balboa blvd. it's a long, slightly downhill street. the downgrade means it is all too easy to find yourself going faster than the speed limit if you aren't paying attention. but, i do pay attention. why? because the cops have figured this out also, and i see them merrily handing out tickets at least three mornings a week. now, what i don't understand is, who are these mouth breathing idiots that are getting ticketed? we see the cops there all the time. if these people had two functioning brain cells to rub together, they would know this is NOT the street to speed down. but the operative phrase there is "two functioning brain cells to rub together." but i will admit to giggling when i see them pulled over. it's almost worth getting out of bed every morning.

they go down this street every single morning just like i do. and i know this, because i see many of the same cars every day. i'm not a car buff, but i do recognize them by their personalized plates, bumper stickers and customized license plate frames. a few mornings a week i see a brown car with a personalized plate that reads, "MYNDMLD." and every time i see it, i try to peek at the driver to see if he is wearing a klingon costume, but i can never get close enough. darn.

then there is the einstein in the red pickup truck. he has a native american dream catcher hanging from his rearview mirror. now, my understanding of the legend behind those is that they catch your dreams while you sleep. um, please tell me you aren't sleeping while driving. although that would explain a lot of the other dumbasses i encounter daily on the freeway.

and let's not forget mr. rico suave. his customized plate frame reads, "I Would Rather Be Eating Pu$$Y." but without the dollar signs. sorry, but i just can't bring myself to type it out exactly as it reads. now rico, that's a nice sentiment, but is that something you really want to advertise? i always wonder if he has a job and a family. does he go to his grandmother's house and what how does he explain that to her? what about his company parking lot? does his boss ever see that? i am fairly certain he doesn't drive that car to church, though. i have often wondered who wears the tshirts that i see on tshirthell.com. well, now i know. i bet rico is a preferred customer.

the fellow commuter i would most like to beat with my Club is the woman in the white ford taurus. whenever i see her in front of me, i will make three lane changes just to get away from her. she hits her brakes constantly and alternates between 2 mph and 45 mph with no rhyme or reason. she needs to die.

now, of course, having said all this, what do you want to bet my happy ass gets a ticket tomorrow?

The Bitch at the Vet's Office Just Got A Verbal Ass Whooping

2005-06-11T19:23:00.000-07:00

i have to preface all this by saying, that while i may come across as very bitchy in this forum, i am actually very nice in person. almost shy. no, really, i am. i swear. you can ask around. you really have to push me to get me pissed. well, the office manager skank at the vet did it today.

and i always to try to be pleasant to serivce personnel because i worked retail and i know how hard it is to deal with the public at large. most of my bitterness stems from too many years of listening to women bitch at me that the pants they ordered did not fit and what was I going to do about it! well, if you are 5'3" and weigh 175 pounds, you should not have ordered a size small in the first place, and i recommended you order a size large the first time we spoke, but you seem to have a mirror that makes your chubby self look like paris hilton, so i really don't know what more i can do besides suggest a reality check on aisle five. i bet if you did a study, you would find that most valium addicts work in customer service.

we have been going to this same vet for over 10 years and we have dumped thousands and thousands of dollars into this place. my dogs go the vet if they so much as sneeze. coupled with the fact that my last dog was an accident prone little mutt, well, let's just say i would not be surprised if my vet was able to buy a new jaguar every year.

the office manager, ethel (and that is her real name) is spectacularly unpleasant to me every time i have to deal with her. i can understand that she might be bitter at being saddled with a name like ethel, but is that really my fault? whenever i leave there, i think to myself, "well, i don't remember spilling pig's blood on her at the prom, but ok."

my dog, ruckus, has bone cancer and is currently taking pain pills to stave off the pain. i get a refill on these pills every 2 weeks. so, this afternoon i called and they told me the pills would be ready after 5pm. i get there at 6:30pm to pick up the pills and find that it is now emergency hours. dear sweet ethel deigns to let me in and explains that in the future, i will have to come before 5pm on a saturday. my blood starts to boil, but i let that slide.

then, i find that the dumbass that i spoke with earlier never processed my order, so now i have to wait. i am still relatively calm. i speak to ethel and explain to her that the last three times i have called in for the pills, the order has not been processed and i have had to wait. i thought as the office manager, she might like to know. i was perfectly calm and civil the whole time.

that's when she turns it around on me and explains that this all basically my fault and normally i should call 24 hours ahead of time, and not come in during emergency hours, etc.....

well, jelly done lost her little mind at this point. here's a recap of the earful i gave ethel.

"not ONCE have i EVER been told that it takes 24 hours and what difference would it make anyway since my order is never processed in the first place. and it is NOT my responsibilty to know what times i can and cannot pick up these pills. YOUR staff should have informed me of this when i called. it is NOT my fault that YOUR employees are incapable of transmitting this information."

i went on in that vein for a few minutes. then she looks at me and says, "thank you for letting me know." and she did not sound at all grateful. that's it. that's all she had to say. not "sorry you had to wait." not "sorry you were given the wrong info." just more snotty attitude.

i hate ethel and hope she gets a bad case of crabs.

I'm Confiscating Your Ovaries, So Hand 'Em Over, Butt Nugget

2005-06-07T19:21:00.000-07:00

ok, so we know i am not a kid friendly person. i don't like 99% of the snot nosed little ankle biters and i like their parents even less. but, i can tolerate some kids. well behaved kids, specifically. my best friend and his wife have 3 fabulous daughters who are a joy to be around. they know how to behave in public, but not in that scary, overly disciplined "daddy's gonna beat me if i spill punch on my new dress" kind of way. and i am fully aware of the fact that the parent's are totally to blame when i see out of control demon spawn running thru the aisles of Target, screaming at the top of their lungs. so, blame the parents i shall. gladly.

i was once at a little cafe and was TRYING to enjoy my meal. i was sitting outside, happily munching away on my burger and reading a good book. my perfect kind of afternoon. well, it was perfect until the family that scares clive barker sat down at the table next to mine. mom, dad and two kids. the boy spawn was about 4 years old and his name was dakota. how do i know his name? keep reading.

dakota spends the majority of the meal throwing utensils, food and condiments all over the place. every time he did this, his idiot mother would say, in a voice barely above a whisper, "dakota, stop that, please." PLEASE? you don't ASK your 4 year old to behave, you tell him he better behave before you throw away EVERY SINGLE power ranger in his collection! so, this continues for about 20 minutes. then, i think the mom has finally grown a pair, because she tells him, "dakota, if you don't stop that right now, we are not going to go get ice cream." (i can't even add an exclamation point to the end of that sentence because her voice was incapable of being strong and authoratative.) but, i thought she was finally going to take charge here.

does the threat of no rocky road strike fear into little dakota's heart? no, it does not. he continues lobbing his fork across the table. and she actually carried thru with her threat and told him there would be no ice cream. dakota's bottom lip trembled, and tears filled his eyes. and then one fat, shiny tear slowly rolled down his cheek, glistening in the sun. oh, the award for Best Crying Toddler definitely goes to dakota for this one. take a bow, dakota, TAKE A BOW!

mom spots the tear. and this is where my head IMPLODED! she scoops him up in her loving arms and tells him, "oh, don't cry, honey. we'll still go get ice cream. don't cry." let's see, what has dakota learned today? there are NO consequences for my actions! yippe! i don't know about you, but i pity the girl that marries him in 20 years. Mrs. Dakota is going to be one these wives that starts nipping from the sherry bottle before lunchtime.

then there are the parents that i have to physically stop myself from smacking the shit out of. i am talking about the parents that feed their kids nothing but CRAP. these kid's poor bodies are still trying to develop strong bones and healthy teeth. well, not with Cap'n Idiot for a mom they aren't. i will be the first to admit that i am a fast food junkie. but, i am also an adult and these are my choices. i want to put junk in my body, well, it's my body. and besides, i'm 33 years old, it's not like i am expecting a growth spurt anytime soon. bring on the doritos!

every morning, i hit the drive thru at del taco for my bean burrito and diet coke. and it is almost guranteed that at least three times a week, i will see a car in the drive thru full of kids and mom is handing bags of food back to them. this is their breakfast? no eight year old needs macho nachos at 7am. i am no dr. spock, but even i can see that processed foodstuff are maybe not the healthiest choice for a growing lad. duh.

although, go to the food court at any mall, and you will see behavior ten times worse. (i am talking about the parent's behavior, now) i once saw a six year old there macking down on pizza, fries and a slurpee. that was lunch. hhhmmm, why is little madeline 50 pounds overweight? it's a mystery!

and if you then try to sue mcdonald's because THEY made your kid fat, be prepared for me to come to your house and beat you with a hot mop. ronald mcdonald never held a gun to my head and made me snarf down a big mac. well, there was that one time the hamburgler yelled at me, but that's a story for another day.

these dipshit parents are so afraid of being the bad guy, that won't dare say "no" to their kids. and then, after 18 years, they unleash these dysfunctional demons out into the dating pool. and my friends wonder why they can't meet any decent guys who aren't complete selfish bastards. yup, that's a puzzler.

Come Out, Come Out Wherever You Are!

2005-06-04T16:28:00.000-07:00

if you drive around my neighborhood, you might think we have a large korean population. you would be wrong. see, we have TONS of korean owned businesses. but i have lived here almost 4 years and have only ever seen one korean person, and that's my neighbor. the rest of them, well, fuck if i know where they are.

these places all have signs in english and korean out front. i stumbled into one of these all purpose korean pharmacy/gift store places awhile back. it was a blistering hot day and my hair was bugging me. so i went off in search of hair ties so i could put my hair in a ponytail. i went in and asked if they had any. to say i received a chilly reception would be an understatement. i was NOT welcome there. ok fine, no skin off my back. if i could read korean, i would have known that. the signs in english will be two or three words, something like "BBQ Bowl House." but, the korean part is lines and lines of text. i am pretty sure it translates into:

"please, all my korean brethern, come shop here and i will give you good food at good prices. we are one people and i will show my love by only charging you $2 for a teriyaki bowl. but whitey, oh, whitey is most certainly not welcome. he comes in and i will charge him $5 for the same teriyaki bowl and he will never know the difference. please join me in laughing at these fools. ha ha ha ha!"

so, these establishments are obviously catering to a korean clientele, but i never see any koreans around here. and trust me, i've looked. which leads me to the inevitable conclusion that they have built underground tunnels and use those to get around. they are mole people. well, do you have a better explanation? i first thought maybe they had gotten their hands on some of those Harry Potter invisibility cloaks, but that seemed ridiculous.

i also think they might be trying to kill us off. there is a restaurant near my house. the cuisine is advertised as Korean/Mexican food. just the thought of kim chee on my huevos rancheros makes me want to hork. a lot. i am desperately curious to see what this food looks like, but i just cannot bring myself to go there.

then there is this other place that advertises 50% off Sushi. ok, i love a bargain as much as the next gal, but there are some things in life that demand you pay full price.

here is my list of things that you should never bargain shop for:

1.) condoms
2.) pregnancy tests
3.) seafood

it's a short list, so it's fairly easy to remember. you are welcome.

so, in summary, the invisible koreans are trying to kill us all. you have been warned.

ABunchOfFuckingIdiots.Com

2005-06-01T21:04:00.000-07:00

call me unhip. call me uncool. call me an old lady. i don't care. i have embraced my inner senior citizen and i have named her Edna. because i just have to say that i think myspace.com is just about the stupidest fucking web site in the world. it is fucked up on so many levels. what is the point of it? some people say "friendship." well, i've got friends and they know how to email or call me. and they certainly don't need to see pictures of me. they know what i look like. and they already know my favorite books, bands and movies.

some say they are there for "networking." my definition of networking is making contacts that can further your career. i have yet to hear anyone say, "oh, i got my last job because the head of HR saw me on myspace. he really liked the picture of me flashing my boobs best of all." unless they work in a titty bar. then it's a whole different story, i guess.

and if they are on there for dating, go to eHarmony and find your perfect match. guaranteed.

i have seen a lot of people's pages on myspace and the stuff they put on there just boggles my mind. do you really want the whole world to know that you are an idiot? i saw one chick's profile and under favorite books she listed "n/a" Dear.God.In.Heaven. Not Applicable. She's not even bright enough to lie and just list some bullshit book she was forced to read in high school. and her favorite movies? the cinematic masterpieces that touch her soul? how to lose a guy in 10 days and serendipity. i'm just POSITIVE she is a rhodes scholar. i am sure of it!

and the pictures that these people post of themselves? first of all, if you expect me to believe those pics are real, then tell me more about that swampland you got for sale. because i have traveled all over this country and 99% of america's population is just flat out butt ugly. but somehow, on myspace, everyone has the body of a swimsuit model. hhmmm, wonder how that is? and then, on the flip side, i look at other photos and think, "this is the best pic you have of yourself?" because if i am going to put my pic online for the whole world to see, you can bet it's going to be a good one. it would be the one of me in the pink blouse holding the purple bunny statue and NOT the one where i look like jabba the hutt's uglier sister. but that's just me.

and what is the psychological payoff of the "friends list?" just to make you THINK you are popular? i saw one profile that had almost 500 friends listed. no body knows that many people. and if you did, how the hell would you keep all their names stright? there are only so many names in the world. "Samantha47, meet Dave89. He's friends with Brandy61. You know Brandy61. No, the girl with the overbite and the small nose is Brandy62! Brandy61 is the girl that slept with Roger56 and Johnathan39! Got it? Good."

eck, maybe i'm just getting old. but i really just don't understand kids today. pass the prunes.

No Cinnamon For Me, Thanks

2005-05-30T16:51:00.000-07:00

i swung by walgreen's this afternoon for a few "essentials." apparently, a smoothie maker was "essential," but i am powerless in the face of the "as seen on tv" aisle. anyway, as i was walking thru the parking lot on my way into to the store, i saw a shuttle bus from one of the local senior citizen homes. i knew there would be more than a few old folks in the store, but nothing could have prepared me for what i saw take place in the vitamin aisle.

i came upon this conversation between a very eldery caucasian man (customer) and an eldery asian man (employee). obviously, they were both a little hard of hearing, because this conversation was loud enough for me to hear clearly from the other end of the aisle.

Customer - "WHERE ARE THE ENEMAS?"

Employee - "CINNAMON?"

Customer - "NO! ENEMAS!"

Employee - "CINNAMON? YOU WANT CINNAMON?"

Customer - "ENEMAS! ENEMAS! WHERE ARE THE ENEMAS!!!"

Employee - "OH! ENEMAS! YOU WANT ENEMAS!"

Customer - "YES! ENEMAS!"

Employee - "AISLE NINE. ENEMAS ON AISLE NINE."

Customer - "AISLE FIVE?"

Employee - "NO! NINE!"

i have never heard the word 'enema' so many times in such a short period of time and i never want to again. for some strange reason, i am also pretty sure i will not be using cinnamon for quite awhile, either.

Crap As Far As the Eye Can See

2005-05-29T13:27:00.000-07:00

i have been channel surfing for an hour now, and have come to the conclusion that sunday afternoon tv is better than vicodin at putting me to sleep, minus the nice buzz. i have 1800 channels of CRAP available to me. here's what's on right now:

*The Indy 500 - cars going around and around in circles. um, isn't that just basically watching traffic?

*Punk'd - will someone please get the memo to ashton that screaming into the camera DOES NOT make you funny? although, watching celebrities cry is kind of fun.

*Lace II - now, i love bad lifetime movies as much as the next girl, but this drivel is more than even i can take. i cannot be expected to watch this shit sober. maybe i need a drink and then i will be able to stomach phoebe cate's underwhelmed acting style.

*Hunter - does anyone besides my cop obsessed brother STILL watch this low rent 80's detective show?

*Law & Order: Special Victims Trial by CSI - or whatever the fuck it's called. how many variations of this show can dick wolf come up with? what's next? Law & Order: Traffic Court?

*Clean Sweep - i don't want to clean my own damned house. certainly don't want to watch other people cleaning theirs. duh.

*Benny Hill - is this the best BBC America can come up with? this shit wasn't funny 20 years ago and it ain't funny now.

*ESPN Classics - now, i'm not intersted in sports games that are taking place right now, let alone some minor league baseball game from 1975. further proof men are retarded.

*Gastineau Girls - this is E!'s way of saying, "we couldn't actually get paris hilton because she is locked into that other show on fox. but here's some other brain dead socialites for you to envy." no, thanks. if i wanted to watch spoiled brats shopping with daddy's money and babbling about completely insignificant shit, i would go down to melrose.

*From Justin to Kelly - five minutes into that movie and i would be slitting my wrists. and not that "horizontal cry for help" slit , either. oh no, this would be the "vertical i mean business, motherfucker!" slashing.

oh, i just found Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? hell, yeah! i'm out of here!

What is the Statute of Limitations on Child Abuse?

2005-05-26T20:13:00.000-07:00

even though i am 33 years old, i am thinking of having my mom charged with child abuse. see, when i was just a wee little thing, she took me to the movies constantly. not happy, animated kid movies with an annoyingly simplistic life lesson at the end. my grandparents took me to those. no, she took me to every fucked up, scary movie made in the 1970's.

here's a rundown of the ones i can actually remember. i am pretty sure i have repressed the memories of others in order to maintain some semblance of sanity. and even that's been called into question on more than one occasion.

*JAWS - i was 4 years old and yes, my mom took me to see jaws. now, at 4 years old i had a little difficulty processing the fact that great white sharks live in the ocean. to me, water was water. after that movie i was 100% CONVINCED that a shark was going to come up thru the toilet and bite me on the butt and drag me down into the toilet. as a result, i never spent more 3.5 seconds on the potty. and those 3.5 seconds were a terror filled 3.5 seconds. to this day, i can pee faster than a speeding bullet. i don't know if this skill will ever come in handy, but it's nice to know i am prepared. you know, just in case.

*MURDER BY DEATH - i was 5 years old when she dragged me to this one. now, this was not a "horror film" per se, but it scared me so bad, that even now, 28 years later, i cannot watch the ending of it. if you have never seen it, it's a fun, mystery movie and the premise is all these fictional detectives from famous books and movies come together in one house to solve a mystery. at the end of the movie, nancy walker, who plays the maid, tears a mask off of her face, revealing another face underneath. and i think that is repeated a few times (maybe it's my faulty memory, but that's how i remember it and i sure as hell am not going to watch it again for clarification, thank you very much). so all i see is nancy walker tearing off her own face again and again. i freaked out so bad at that one that my mom had to take me out of the theater. i distinctly remember the long walk up the theater aisle and the whole time i was screaming, "MAKE HER STOP! MAKE HER STOP!" yeah, good times. but did mom learn her lesson? no, she did not. because next we have.....

*CARRIE - same year as murder by death, so i am 5 years old. the scene at the end gave me a mini stroke. yes, it was scary in the usual "dead hand popping out the grave, reaching for amy irving's neck" kind of way. but for me, it was doubly terrifying. because that gravel yard where the hand pops up from looked EXACTLY like my granny's back yard. guess how many years it took until i could play in THAT back yard again?

*ORCA - ok, so i am 6 years old and she takes me to see a movie about a killer whale seeking revenge on richard harris. i thought the large white spot on the whale's head was it's eye. (hey, i never said i was a bright kid, so please stop laughing at me) the whole movie, i was transfized by the large, flat eye on this whale and it scared the crap out of me.

ok, now here's where it gets good. i think this is going to be the strongest part of my case. this is the part where jack nicholson would be screaming, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" no jury in the world is going to take her side after they hear this. these next 3 movies all came out in 1979, so i was 7-8 years old at the time. oh yeah, mom is going down now. she better hope she looks good in an orange jumpsuit.

*THE AMITYVILLE HORROR - the flies, the disembodied red eyes, the creppy alarm clock, margot kidder's freakishly childish pigtails. all of these have left permanent scars on my psyche. and the kicker to this one is what my mom told me right before we saw it. i had done something really bad that week and was being punished. normally, going to the movies and the mall was a treat. so she tells me, "i am not taking you to this movie because you have been good. i am still mad at you. i am only taking you because there is no one who can baby sit you right now." um, thanks mom. in retrospect, i think the movie might have been part of my punishment.

*WHEN A STRANGER CALLS - seriously, what kind of drugs was my mother on??!?!? "check the children." and "why haven't you checked the children?" dear god, i almost peed my pants when carol kane opened the door and charles durning was standing there. i asked my mom a few years ago what the HELL she was thinking when she took me to that one. her answer? "well, you said you wanted to see it." so, apparently, my mom would have let me watch porn in 2nd grade, too, right? because, hey, i "wanted to see it." if i had known what a snuff film was, she probably would have let me watch that, too.

*HALLOWEEN - oh yes, the crown jewel of my horror film watching experience. this movie is probably responsible for 97% of my neuroses. now, you are going to want to make sure you are sitting down for this part, trust me. she took me to see 'halloween' THE SAME NIGHT that she took me to see 'when a stranger calls.' good one, mom. our local theater was in a mall and it was one of the first places to have multiple screens. they had four auditoriums. hey, it was the 70's, this was still a new thing back then. mom, granny and i had gone to see 'when a stranger calls' and granny (who loves a bargain) decides we should sneak into another theater and watch a 2nd movie for free. she's such an outlaw. well, the only thing starting was 'halloween.' now, here's where mom just loses her fucking mind. she decides that since i am a little freaked out from the first movie (you think?) that i should not watch this one. she tells me to curl up in the seat and take a nap. i was a strangely tiny child, so this was easy for me. then she covers me with her jacket. she covers all of me from the head down. so, here's my experience with this movie. i am in pitch black darkness, i can hear the creepy music, everyone around me is screaming bloody murder and the lady behind me is so scared that her legs fly up every time she screams, thus kicking the hell out of my chair. that's the kind of torture only a POW can relate to. where's my goddamn purple heart?

when i was a child, people always complimented my mom because i was such a well behaved, docile kid. they were wrong. i was shell shocked. so, if my mom ever offers you parenting advice, just smile nicely and back away from the crazy lady. slowly.