Redheads

This youtube video has inspired me to finish reading a book I got as a gift about the mythical, sexual, and tempestuous powers we possess. I'm damn proud to be a red head!

Red Head You Tube Video

Clueless Secretary Prompts Hilarious Office Email Thread

This is the funniest thing I have read in a LONG time. Makes me wanna mess with people more. Enjoy! 

 Here's how the story goes...

Shannon (the secretary) has lost her cat and has asked David (the graphic designer) to help with a lost poster. This is their email correspondence...
Read from top to bottom….

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.15am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Poster

Hi
I opened the screen door yesterday and my cat got out and has been missing since then so I was wondering if you are not to busy you could make a poster for me. It has to be A4 and I will photocopy it and put it around my suburb this afternoon.

This is the only photo of her I have she answers to the name Missy and is black and white and about 8 months old. missing on Harper street and my phone number.
Thanks Shan.


From:David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.26am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
That is shocking news.
Although I have two clients expecting completed work this afternoon, I will, of course, drop everything and do whatever it takes to facilitate the speedy return of Missy.
Regards, David. 

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 9.37am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Poster

yeah ok thanks. I know you dont like cats but I am really worried about mine. I have to leave at 1pm today.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.17am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
I never said I don't like cats. Attached poster as requested.
Regards, David. 




From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.24am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

yeah thats not what I was looking for at all. it looks like a movie and how come the photo of Missy is so small?

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.28am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
It's a design thing. The cat is lost in the negative space.
Regards, David. 

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.33am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Thats just stupid. Can you do it properly please? I am extremely emotional over this and was up all night in tears. you seem to think it is funny. Can you make the photo bigger please and fix the text and do it in colour please. Thanks.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.46am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

Dear Shannon,
Having worked with designers for a few years now, I would have assumed you understood, despite our vague suggestions otherwise, we do not welcome constructive criticism. I don't come downstairs and tell you how to send text messages, log onto Facebook and look out of the window. I have amended and attached the poster as per your instructions.
Regards, David.





From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 10.59am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

This is worse than the other one. can you make it so it shows the whole photo of Missy and delete the stupid text that says missing missy off it? I just want it to say Lost.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.14am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster





From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.21am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Poster

yeah can you do the poster or not? I just want a photo and the word lost and the telephone number and when and where she was lost and her name. Not like a movie poster or anything stupid. I have to leave early today. If it was your cat I would help you. Thanks.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.32am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Awww

Dear Shannon,
I don't have a cat. I once agreed to look after a friend's cat for a week but after he dropped it off at my apartment and explained the concept of kitty litter. I have attached the amended version of your poster as per your detailed instructions.
Regards, David. 





From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.47am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Awww

Thats not my cat. where did you get that picture from? That cat is orange. I gave you a photo of my cat.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 11.58am
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Awww

I know, but that one is cute. As Missy has quite possibly met any one of several violent ends, it is possible you might get a better cat out of this. If anybody calls and says "I haven't seen your orange cat but I did find a black and white one with its hind legs run over by a car, do you want it?" you can politely decline and save yourself a costly veterinarian bill.
Regards, David. 

From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.07pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Please just use the photo I gave you.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.22pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww





From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.34pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

I didnt say there was a reward. I dont have $2000 dollars. What did you even put that there for? Apart from that it is perfect can you please remove the reward bit. Thanks Shan.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.42pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww





From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.51pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Can you just please take the reward bit off altogether? I have to leave in ten minutes and I still have to make photocopies of it.


From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12.56pm
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww





From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 1.03pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww

Fine. That will have to do.

Inspiration

On an overnight trip to San Diego and arrived around 11:30 pm to Budget to get my rental car. Now, Mr. Budget who so kindly helped me, was feeling generous, or horny, or perhaps had other motives, but we will not discuss that now, gave me a Mustang Convertible. I was down for an economy car. Aka - the cheapest one on the lot please! So...Ummm...FANTABULOUS and THANK YOU sir! I hopped in that baby and popped the top down. Did I care that it's only 60 degrees here?! Hell no. Give a 26 year old girl a convertible for less than 24 hours (and she has NEVER driven one before) and OH BOY is she gonna ride in that thing with the top down!

I've never been too impressed with the new mustangs, I can take it or leave it. I mean, if someone was like, "Here's a free car" I would NOT be ashamed to drive it. But to my surprise - that car has some guts! I had to keep slowing down - it was so easy to speed in!

I'm getting ahead of myself and the story now. Whoa, easy tiger.

So I have my little Budget rental packet and had put it away in my travel file folder. Yes, I am anal when I travel. I get to the gate where the dude in the booth looks over the car and he makes me get it out of my folder and recommends I keep it out and in the car in case I get pulled over. (He must have seen the giddiness in my face and KNOWN I was gonna be more of a speed demon than usual.) So what do I do? I set it on the front seat under my bag. Looked secure enough to me!

I even looked over at it at one point and thought, "Hm, maybe I should put this somewhere more secure." Too bad I was having far too much fun driving and I told the more responsible half of my brain to suck it. I am so sorry more responsible half.

One minute I'm cruising and dancing, the next minute I'm trying to grab flying papers that are swirling around in the air taunting me whilst NOT killing myself or other people on the freeway. I managed to grab ONE measley little piece and then WHOOSH. The rest is GONE. Buh bye rental packet!

Oops. Let's hope the part I caught is the important part.

But again, what's the worst that can happen? Nothing that I can come up with that seems worth stress and anxiety. So I'm going to enjoy this little blessing while it lasts, and make sure to put important stuff in the trunk next time. Or sit on it. Or put it in my suitcase. Or put it in the glove box. Or Hell - clench it between my teeth! Something better than 'on the front seat kinda sorta under something'.

After this little "incident"/adventure I'm relaxing at the hotel getting ready for sleepy time and I catch a glimpse of my little brother's blog (it's SO hilarious, check check it - www.cerealislife.blogspot.com) and I realize *LIGHTBULB* (have you seen Despicable Me? Go see it. Now. And Inception. Holy Amazing Sauce) that I need to start blogging again. Before you now, I vow to spit out at least one post weekly. I mean, there is some seriously funny shit happening out there that needs to be shared!

So yes, I'm back. "Officially".

Stay tuned for pics of our new apt. We've been working SO hard on that place. Hence my hiatus from blogging - but it's super hip and modern and we painted. It feels like home, finally. Frankly I think IKEA should award us some awesome shopping spree from how much business we have personally given them and how much they'll get from our apartment that is practically an IKEA showroom. You're welcome IKEA.

Heads Up Seven Up (7 Up?)

I don't even know how to spell this childhood game, nor do I remember it a whole lot. I do remember that whenever I got to play it in school it was the best.day.EVER. Like in my 2nd grade mind as awesome as my mom giving me all three meals as cookies or finding out there really was a way for me to become a mermaid, specifically THE Little One. Purple seashell bra and all.

This game popped into my mind as I was sitting at work this afternoon hoping that I could maybe sleep with no one noticing (maybe eyelid tattoos of eyes open will be coming soon) or find SOMETHING interesting to read while we watch our boss pace back and forth every 15 minutes to make sure we haven't escaped this day yet. I mean, really? Are we 7? And that's when I remembered Heads Up 7 Up. It was the game your teacher let you play because there wasn't anything else for you to do, but she couldn't just let a bunch of seven year olds wander the halls and make mischief. But, we're adults and don't need to be babysat. So to enjoy feeling like a 7 year old again, I proposed we play Heads Up 7 Up or get some kind of strong drink up in here.

So I just googled it, and you can spell is 7 Up or Seven Up. So technically, both are right. And here are the "rules":

Seven students were in front of the class. The class laid their heads on their desk. The seven went out and each touched a person. That person would stick his or her thumb up. Then the seven would say "heads up seven up" and each student got one chance to guess which of the seven touched him. If they guessed right than they changed places. If they did not the same person got to stay up.

OR

Played inside a classroom...everyone puts their heads down on their desks and extends one thumb. The teacher chooses one person as "It." He/she goes around touching the thumbs of six people. If your thumb is touched, you go to the front of the room. When this has been accomplished, "It" yells, "Seven up!" Everyone raises their heads and has to guess which of the seven people is "It."

This game came up with family a few weeks ago and someone (I seriously don't even remember who said it) asked us if we cheated with that game by looking at their shoes. I was like "How devious!" When I was seven I didn't know how to cheat! How dare you ask me that! But if you played that game with me now...you better know I'll be cheating all up and down that game and denying it left and right! I got good at memorizing types of shoes from my bathroom stall mates. I blogged about that before. I like to know who is pooping by me. I dunno why, I'm just a big creep.

Oh Where Oh Where Has Your Favorite Blogger Gal Gone...

It seems to be a re-occurring theme with me - disappearing for a few weeks. However, I have a legitimate excuse, actually excuses, this time.

First of all, my amazing life-loving, loud laughing, gardener, dreamer, perpetual learner of a grandfather passed away on March 13th. His illness that progressed so quickly and then life that ended consumed me emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I’m happy he’s not suffering; I’m happy he’s not alive but hooked up to machines because for my grandpa that would not be considered living at all; I’m happy he’s reuniting with family and loved one that passed on before him. But, I miss him. Plain and simple.

I wanted to fly him out when I finally owned a home to teach me everything he knows about gardening. I wanted my future children to learn from him and know him. I wanted to learn more from him. It’s been difficult for me to even except that he’s gone at all, especially for my grandma’s sake. They were such a powerhouse of a couple. They were a strong and true team and I strive to have a marriage like theirs. They embraced one another for their differences and individuality and loved that about each other. Grandpa always said they danced through life.

I’ll miss you grandpa. Hey hey, ho ho, tinkle tinkle.

Secondly, and with great spontaneity and maybe a pinch of madness, we moved to the heart of downtown Salt Lake City. Perhaps the timing was a blessing as it has given me something to direct all my energy to, instead of being depressed and bored which equals sleeping a lot. However, I do not have internet yet, and my feet are so swollen that I could barely get a normal pair of shoes on today. Up and down and caring large boxes and standing for hours and sleeping for few. The process has been draining as all hell – but very therapeutic. We are trying to purge unnecessary items and decorate our incredible new modern apt in a way that will make us happier. Micah has his own space for his art that is quickly transforming into a room we may spend a lot of time in and the rest of the house is in semi-shambles as I try to organize everything as he scrambles to get all his homework done. I already LOVE being downtown – it feels like I’m home.

So stayed tuned for pictures when everything is all ready to go!

Vegan Cat Update

Quickly, the cats totally dug the vegan kibble - however all the extra kibble I made and stored went moldy and now I had to switch back to regular food while I make more. What a shame! I think it needed to dry out even more before I stuck in storage. C'est la vie!

Vegan Cats

I'm sure by the sheer title of this post, most of you are rolling your eyes and slightly, or perhaps vigorously, shaking your head in dismay, disbelief, or sheer dumbfoundedness at my utter weirdness. But to quote Alice in Wonderland (I ADORE Tim Burton) - "all the best people are a bit mad". I may have totally effed that up, but you get the point.



So - cat food is expensive and who knows what they hell is really in it. That's how I feel about most pre-packaged foods I eat. So I prefer to cook from scratch as often as possible. So why on earth would I not do the same for my precious little baby girls? I know - what HAVE I been thinking all this time? I also think to myself, I'm healthy being vegan, so why not my carnivorous cats?! Oh yes, I have gone there. And so have A LOT of other people, by the way.



So there is one amino acid cats require that comes from meat, it's like, aquamarine or some crazy named sciencey type word, and someone found a way to make a synthetic version. So, I can now feed my cats homemade vegan food. I tried a recipe the other night that had chickpeas and olive oil and tofu and I swear I could eat it, but then you add this confetti of weird smelling stuff into it (the stuff that has this aquamarine shit in it) and it immediately smells awful. Sophie, being the sweet amazing pet that she is, at least TRIED the stuff. She licked off the cheesy tasting nutritional yeast I sprinkled on it to mask the nastiness, but Tabitha. YEAH RIGHT. She came up to the bowl, sniffed it, and then stomped her paws in it - NO JOKE - like HELL NO. Then she looked at me with this face like, who are you kidding? That cat food you mixed in IS FOOLING NO ONE. She then refused to look at me the rest of the night. Ok, so THAT recipe failed. You know your cats hate something when they refuse to eat it and then don’t even whine. I mean, they had to have been starving. Cats are so fickle and snobish. What kind of animal would rather starve than eat something semi ok gross? Oh yea - my princess cats. I'm rolling my eyes right now.



So tomorrow is the kibble adventure. I think making my own hard food that looks like what they eat now is going to be a better bet. They even suggested putting imitation bacon bits in it. That BLEW MY MIND. How could they not ADORE me and their food if there was BACON tasting goodness in the food? I figure my odds are pretty incredible. So, I'm off tomorrow to find these said bacon bits and cook my little bratty angels something they may like.



By the way, I'm totally head over heels in love with my cats, if you didn't already know.

"Digging for Gold"

I'll be the first to admit that I love picking my nose. Especially since the installment of my nose ring. Those damn stubborn boogies, or "bougies" if you're Harry Potter, love to cling to the stainless steel in my nose. So the sheer relief I feel after a minute of good old fashioned digging is probably the best form of instant gratification. EVER.

I'm sure Micah would love to tell you that I love picking my nose as well, and then bitch about how I "sprinkle the boogies in our bed". I don't sprinkle them in the bed Micah. I sprinkle them on the carpet NEXT to the bed. And who vacuums the floors 99% of the time? Me. So technically I'm taking care of it just fine, whilst saving the planet by not using tissues. WIN freakin WIN.

So I am obviously NOT the kind of person who only picks their nose in the bathroom with the door shut with copious amounts of tissue, but I still have MANNERS people! Let me back up before I tell you the story that inspired this post by explaining the how to's and where's of Jen's nose picking.

1. I pick in the car. The odds that someone I actually know will pass by me in the 60 seconds I'm digging away are so not likely. Even if someone I knew did drive by, would they even see me or know who I am? The only way you REALLY get a good look at another fellow car driver is if you're stopped at a stop light side by side. I try to minimize my picking during these more highly exposed times. However, even if someone I knew happened to see me, I don't care. It's my business what I do in my car!

2. I pick at my desk. Since changing our cubicle setup and the only thing dividing me and my cubicle mate is a piece of glass, I try to be more discrete and use a tissue. But she's chill and we kick it outside of work, so I really don't think she cares. *Side note, I do not sprinkle my boogies on company carpet. I use a tissue to dispose of said stuff, but still like to use my fingers. They're so tiny and useful.

3. I pick at home. Everywhere, anytime. I mean, seriously, if I can't be comfortable at home, then it's not home.

But I don't blatantly pick my nose in front of strangers or look people in the eye whilst doing so. If I’m sick or something is dangling - then maybe I'd do something about it emergency style...but always discreet. Because, let's face it, boogers are gross. They always are gross and no one else needs to see mine, and I don't need to see yours, or imagine seeing yours.

 This has been on my mind as of yesterday around 5:00 pm because of the following:

I'm leaving work. Being lazy and taking the elevator down 2 floors. Well, not lazy really, more like because I was in pain from my pumps that I wore all day. My piggies were hurting! So I'm in there alone, and I hit the first floor. The doors open up and there is this woman there staring at me with her finger up her nose. Now I may have excused it if she had acted like she was embarrassed and quickly removed her finger. But alas, she was neither embarrassed nor surprised. She was downright PROUD to have that finger up her nose. She even smiled at me, walked past me and got into the elevator all while still digging to China town. I mean, SERIOUSLY?! I get it, you're the only one waiting for the elevator and you take a quick sneaky pick. But the little DING of the elevator should be some kind of alert to you like "Hey crazy lady, take your finger out of your nose, someone might be in that elevator". But no. It didn't even phase her.

And frankly, it was a tad bit disgusting.

But I still love picking my nose at the right place and at the right time. And if you happen to drive by one day and catch me, just laugh at me and forgive me for being a tiny bit OCD for a clean nose and a tiny bit crazy. Ok, maybe more than a tiny bit.

Health Care Reform Summit

So today I have been listening to a live broadcast from the White House. They are showing the Health Care Reform Summit. I LOVE Obama and I whole heartedly agree that we need a MAJOR change and I back up socialized health care. I'm not going to get into the politics, cause I'll just rant and probably offend someone, so instead I'm going to talk about people and their debate skills. Or more specifically, the debate skills of some government officials.

So Obama gets a group of dems and repubs together to brainstorm and collaborate and gather different views to create a plan that suits the majority of needs and concerns. Now there are a handful of people present that eloquently lay out their points and arguments and make sense and add to the summit. And sorry to say, it's mostly the repubs that make my jaw drop and my brain befuddled because they seriously make no damn sense. Or like John McCain that is basically bashing the President and telling him he isn't delivering on promises made during the election, and THANKFULLY Obama reminded him that the election is over. Oh snap Mr. President, you tell him! But I seriously DO NOT understand politicians who cannot argue effectively. I would hope anyone looking into politics has taken an argumentative writing class or debate or something! But I swear most of them went to school for ceramics and their idea of "helping" the summit is babbling on about nonsense, confusing everyone, and using the phrase "the American people hate..." or "the American people need..." to be your only argumentative strategy. I hate to break it to these people, but that's no point. First of all, how can ANYONE say that the American People are (fill in the black with ANYTHING) if you don't know every single person's circumstance, life situation, beliefs or anything. It's like the repubs are just SO pissed that dems want change that they're just throwing out the most ridiculous arguments just to make the process take 20 years and frustrate everyone in the room to the point of giving up!

It would be like trying to decide how to adjust your finances so save more money and be able to buy a house in 5 years. You invite your spouse, some close friends, and the muppets. Now, the muppets don't want you to leave your parents house, because then, who'd watch them, right? They are SO logical. During the meeting you get some real good ideas, but then Miss Piggy talks about her new pink shoes and how when she wears them she makes good financial decisions, therefore, you should buy a pair. Then Fozzie bear interupts with a knock-knock joke about tomatoes, and Gonzo just chases after chickens the whole time. WTF? Thanks for coming and saying NOTHING to do with what we are trying to get out of the meeting!

I'm not trying to dog on republicans. My biggest beef with them is that is seems they don't want to contribute to real important issues; they would just rather de-rail them completely and yell at Obama. No real change will ever happen in this country if different minded people can't come together and share ideas with one another in a civil, uplifting, positive way. Bagging on the President and sharing non-relevant information isn't helping anyone!

Kids

This is a topic that comes and goes with great fervor, always making lasting impressions on me. Like, I NEED BABIES, or OMG I want that $1,000 stroller NOW, or I want to show all the dumb-ass parents out there how it’s REALLY done. Or it’s: how do you handle all the noise these things generate? Why aren’t ALL parents addicted to Prozac? I like it just being Micah and me; I’d have to be BAT SHIT crazy to want kids?! Those are the polar opposite feelings I have about children.

I will admit that now that I am a bit more mature, I have realized being a parent isn’t easy or fun like you think it will be when you’re playing with Cabbage Patch dolls that make no sound or MOVE. EVER. But with that maturity I’ve realized being a parent is one of those stages in life you need to be ready for, like preparing for a hurricane or tornado and even in the middle of the madness of the storm when it’s scary and chaotic, the second it’s over life means so much more. Maybe I’m delusioning myself of all this, but I think parenthood overall is enjoyable. You learn a lot, you grow, you get to laugh at all the funny things your kids do, and help shape a person to be someone good - and even though there may be a complete shit storm EVERY. SINGLE. DAY., like the time my youngest brother fell down the stairs in his walker, crawled through bleach, and “brushed” his teeth with a razor, in the SAME day, you can laugh about it later, and try to grasp at the big picture.

Why has this all dawned upon me? Well for one, I’ve been filling my oh-so-busy days at work with looking at furniture for our hopeful new apt in downtown Salt Lake. I then got sidetracked with cribs, linen sets for cribs, strollers, decorating ideas, and saving links to things I WANT desperately once I get pregnant. Lemme just say this now, we better be RICH! I came home admitting to Micah that I was SOOO close, like, had the shopping cart and billing info filled out close, to actually buying this linen set for a crib (sheets and bumper pad etc) because it is EXACTLY the thing I want in a nursery (I’m obsessed with owls in nurseries) and I will NEVER EVER EVER find something like it again. And there's nothing wrong with being prepared! AND if we started buying things right now, it won't be such a big blow when we have to buy A LOT of stuff. And he then looked at me with that, “are you insane” look and told me he’d leave me if I bought it; and he was serious. Whew. Good thing I didn’t press accept! But take a look at it, I mean, do you really blame me?? It’s so freakin’ adorable that I wanna scream a little. And I'm still considering buying it, just never telling him and hiding it somewhere awesome. (Too bad you can't see the detail, but there are tiny owls in the pattern!)

So there’s x to my equation. Y would be visiting my sister and brother in law in Idaho over the weekend. They have a 9 yr old daughter who already wears makeup and competes with my level of sass, and two three year olds that are 3 weeks apart. This is when I ask myself, really? Do I REALLY want this? My dream of five kids is slowly dwindling…But then I see that smile, hear that laugh, see Savannah running around naked proclaiming “I’m naked, I’m naked” and then seeing her with her little seahorse panties on crooked so in the back it’s like a make-shift thong. Or my nephew Zane constantly reminding and reassuring himself of his gender. “Zane’s a boy. Zane’s a boy.” The noise, the craziness, the mess, I’m sure is worth all those funny moments, but I won’t lie to you; it’s nice going home to just me, Micah, and the kitties.

For now I’m going to continue enjoying the stage of life Micah and I are in now. School, paintings and art supplies all over, the kitties, a shoe box apartment, and jobs we may not love, and when the time comes will enjoy the next stage of life. The insanity of parenthood.

My Blogging Absence & A Link If You Need Some Laughs

I need to get back into the swing of writing! So this is my plea to be more consistant, cause we ALL know when we can laugh and make fun of life, it's so much more fun! So in the spirit of laughs, check out this link and ENJOY!!!

Bon Qui Qui Mad TV Sketch

Men Live Longer Because They Are Men

Men live longer because they are men. Men have less stress in their lives. And men have NO clue. You know why? They take for granted the time that they would be spending doing the easiest, human, mundane tasks IF they were a woman. It's JUST NOT FAIR (said in a whiney voice while stomping my feet around). So I'm going to bitch about it.

First item: going to the bathroom. For arguments sake, we are NOT going to talk about going number two.

Man In Public Bathroom

• Step 1 - Walk up to urinal, maybe go into stall and lock.
• Step 2 - Fly down.
• Step 3 - Whip it out.
• Step 4 - Pee.
• Step 5 - Shake and tap.
• Step 6 - Zip up.
• Step 7 - Unlock stall or skip this step if using urinal.
• Step 8 - Wash hands. We all hope.

Woman In Public Bathroom

• Step 1 - Go into stall and lock.
• Step 2 - Lay down toilet cover, or use toilet paper to fashion one, OR hover and get a quad workout while peeing. (Note, when men go #2, I really wonder how many actually put down the seat protector...)
• Step 3 - Unbutton/unfasten pants.
• Step 4 - Pull pants down.
• Step 5 - SIT down.
• Step 6 - If NOT on period skip steps A-F below.

• o A - Curse loudly in your head, then be grateful you have a tampon in your purse. Add in embarrassing time consuming tampon hunting steps if not.
• o B - Try to take care of any mess. My favorite part.
• o C - If have some kind of apparatus on or in, take off or out.
• o D - Oh shit! The little trash can doesn't have a liner. Add in steps to wrap up said object in a million layers of toilet paper to take out with you.
• o E - Dispose of object or flush it.
• o F - Unwrap & replace fresh object.

• Step 7 - Pee.
• Step 8 - Wipe.
• Step 9 - Pull your pants up.
• Step 10 - Zip/latch/fasten pants.
• Step 11 - Gather your nasty garbage and purse and exit stall.
• Step 12 - Wash hands.

Ok. SO - you can already tell a woman spends more time in a bathroom than a man does. I did some math to substantiate my claims because FACTS are facts and then no one can argue with me. I may even take a stop-watch into the bathroom next time to make sure my facts are accurate.

Three weeks out of every month we'll say the average woman uses a public restroom 10 times with normal bathroom delays. (This is a SMALL number - I use one probably 20-30 times.) Then one week out of every month, she will still go use a public restroom 10 times, but this week is special. Or rather hell week. The week a woman's antagonistic Aunt Flo comes and beats her in the uterus until she bloats, feels sick, and develops a splitting headache.

With those estimated stats, here is the math:
*Note: 40 weeks/year with 10 visits a week = non-menstrual
            12 weeks with 10 visits a week = hell week

Average Woman:

Normal public bathroom visits/year = 400. Added time in bathroom for toilet cover and sitting is 30 seconds. 400 visits x 30 seconds = 200 minutes/year + 120 min for "Extended Period Visits" (add 1 minute) = 320 minutes/year.

We will say that women menstruate for about 40 years of their life regularly. That equals about 212 hours or 8.9 DAYS of a woman’s life spent on extra time in the bathroom.

Jen Woman (based on 25 visits per week):

Normal public bathroom visits/year = 1,000. Added time in bathroom for toilet cover and sitting is 30 seconds. 1,000 visits x 30 seconds = 500 minutes/year + 300 min for "Extended Period Visits" (add 1 minute) = 800 minutes/year.

800 min x 40 years of menstruating = 22.2 days extra spent in my LIFETIME putting paper down on a toilet and sitting. These numbers don't even include the time I spend sitting/wiping at home. This is JUST public uses! Do you know what I could do with an extra 22.2 days in my life? Solve world hunger. Fix illiteracy in the states. Build a house. Write a novel. Possibilities are endless.

But the issue is not really the time. It is the damn fact that men have no appreciation WHATSOEVER for the mere fact that they NEVER have to go through this. They are oblivious to the things we endure on a daily or weekly basis that they don't ever contemplate or bat an eye at. Because peeing sitting down is just ONE thing.

Try being the woman after sex without a condom. You have no idea. I can't work out for the next few hours AND for up to a DAY the aftermath is there. Do you men even know what I mean by AFTERMATH!

Add in the makeup, hair, the bras, the PANTY HOSE & PREGNANCY and I swear we spend years of our lives on things most men take for granted. So men, next time your wife/sister/mother/girlfriend is on edge and being slightly bitchy, come to terms with the fact that she deserves to be a bitch, and then hug her, kiss her, give her a foot rub, and tell her how you appreciate her vagina and all that comes with it.

Things That Happen That Shouldn't and Defy All Universal Laws

I was just using a mechanical pencil and a memory smacked me in the face like an angry mother. TWICE in elementary and middle school, TWICE something unexplainable and weird happened to me. I pumped out too much lead so when I placed pressure on the pencil to write, the lead broke. I immediately felt something rocket up my nose that made my eyes water.

SERIOUSLY?

This 6 mm thick, 1/8" long piece of lead flew STRAIGHT UP MY NOSE?! What are the freakin odds of that? It's not like I even have large cavernous nostrils or anything! Out of the 9 BILLION other places it could have gone, that's where it went? And talk about embarrassing! All of a sudden you're making bulldog grunting noises in the back of the classroom, then sprint up to the front with your eyes all misty to grab a tissue, then furiously blow your nose and poke around in the snot to make sure it came out, all whilst the judging hot stares of your classmates sizzle the back of your neck. TRAUMITIZING.

And this happened to me TWICE. I swear that is like the same odds as being hit by lightening twice. It makes no sense so my conclusion is; God needed a good laugh.

Smells

Not that I can compare this to much, because I've never had someone else's olfactory skills, but I have a pretty kick ass sense of smell.

And let me just declare something.

Some smells that go into your body,
should
Never.
Come.
Back.
Out.

So this is where things get gross, maybe? Honestly I don't really know because my sensitivity meter to what other people think is inappropriate has been broken. Forever. Like how Micah constantly tells me that bringing up my colonoscopy procedure I had done in college or detailed descriptions of my bladder issues in public is not appropriate. Not that he doesn't mind listening, but because I have no control over the volume of my voice I'm basically forcing people to hear me, always unintentionally of course, and that apparently isn't very nice.

So. Here goes.

I love garlic and onions. Love to cook with them. Almost anything would be better with some sauteed onions and garlic added. But the aroma it creates when cutting and cooking is pungent, at best. Micah cries like a little girl that got pushed over at the playground every time a knife comes close to an onion. It's unreal. My body though, must love the way it smells because it lingers for DAYS. When I hop in the shower the smell that I THOUGHT, stupid me, was gone comes oozing back out and suddenly it smells like I'm bathing in a pot of soup.

Few days later, when the soup shower smell calms down, I smell it when I pee. Honestly?! How on earth could something linger for so long?! It makes me paranoid that my natural smell is like a spicy overpowered Indian dish and no one will ever sit close to me for anything nor for any reason.

So there's onions and garlic, asparagus makes your pee just smell downright WEIRD, broccoli, no matter how fresh when consumed, always comes back smelling like rotten garbage and poo. How come GOOD smells can't re-surface? The only thing I know of, is sometimes some cereals make my pee smell like honey and sweetness. I also know others that have experienced this phenomenon. But usually the good smells never come back. Even burping - when you burp something "good" back up, it's always mixed with something nasty from earlier. Like ew - that tasted like ice cream, and baked beans. Separately those two things are amazing. However together they make for an ugly couple. So next time you burp or pee and something's just not right, you'll think of me.

I'm trying to make you all think of me in the most awkward and weird situations ever. Awkwardness makes my day.

Skeletons in the Closet

The title of this blog sounds MUCH more scandalous than it really is going to be. Too bad so sad. However, you do learn a lot about yourself when you clean out your closet.

Last night, beginning around midnight, I started going through my closet. I had already started a donation bag weeks earlier and decided to do a more thorough search to see if there was anything else I'd like to give up. I do this about once a year and my rule is, not matter how much I like that shirt at the back of my closet that I totally forgot about, if I haven't worn it in a year, it's a goner.

Throughout this process I came to the realization that clothes are funny things to me.

First of all, I love them far too much, yet I always seem more than ready to get new ones. Going through my closet I realized I could probably re-evaluate and create an entirely new line up of outfits out of clothes I already own. So why I feel such a great need to get new outfits is beyond me. Maybe it's because shopping means CHANGE. It means throwing out the old and bringing in the new. It means my tastes have changed and I want to try a new look. I've grown up, I want to be more bold, I want to re-invent myself.

But when going through old clothes, you gain a very clear understanding that clothes carry baggage. I have never come in contact with something in my life that is no inanimate and yet SO emotion driving. That shirt I wore when I met my husband = fond memories, love, happiness; that skirt my mother bought me for graduation and I have grown out of the style and never worn since = guilt; the top that I wore when I danced on that table at that dance = pride/embarrassment? (it SHOULD embarrass me at least); that pair of cut offs I keep around for painting a house (which who on EARTH knows when THAT will even happen) = my dreams; that pair of jeans I looked super sexy in in that ONE picture from college = the spunk of my single days. All of these items are so hard to get rid of because they are representations of my journey in life.

I hate that they do.

I need to de-clutter my life (in more ways than one) and so...sweet articles of clothing, I bid you adieu as you meet new owners and cling to new skin. May you start a new life of your own and help someone else create new memories.