Sunday, March 29, 2009

Taxes = Frustration

7:30am.  Sunday.  I shouldn't be awake.  Especially since I went to sleep at around 3:30am.  

I wish I could say that I was out all night partying up a storm with a-list celebs, got home at 3:30 when the limo dropped me off and that I went straight to bed in my party dress - wrinkles be damned!  Alas and alack, that would be an outright (yet fabulous) lie.  The truth is that I started doing my taxes yesterday and despite taking out the most I can in my paycheck, I seem to owe $3000.

Many things went through my head as I started at the red numbers at the top of the screen.  They are as follows:

1)  WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?  I make less than I did in 2000, and am paying more!  WTF?!
2)  Maybe I made a mistake? 
2a)  Realize I'm perfect and never make mistakes, ergo continue with full blown panic.
3)  OMG, I'm going to throw up.  
4)  Is my computer game of Crazy Train still loaded?
4a)  YES IT IS!  
5)  Bailey's is goooooooooooooooooooooood.
5a)  Slkjfdkls dsldkfjsdl fsl sld9ew03.  (*hic*)
6)  Angered fists of fury aimed at the f*cking man!
7)  Write letter of apology for angered fists, I'd like to not get audited, thank you very much.
8)  Rip up letter while giggling at all the four letter words used as adjectives.  Tee hee!
10.)  No really, I'm going to throw up.

So after many games of Crazy Train (THANKS FOR RUINING MY LIFE, AMY!) and nose kisses from Matilda (she's very good at those and always has plenty to offer because she hopes it will brainwash me into giving her more food), I did the mature thing and shut off my computer and pouted.  Then I angry texted.  Then I snuggled with a slightly discontent dog who realized that she wasn't getting any food.  


Granted, I still have some deductions to enter, but not a lot.  And even though I can afford to pay them (THANK YOU BABY THOR!) it means that I have a lot of sacrifices to deal with to make up for it during the year.  Thank goodness for Netflix.  

So I should now get back to the task of my taxes.  I hope that I have a happy update to post later stating that somehow, even though I'm 100% perfect all the time (just like Mary Poppins!), I've made a mistake or that my tax program is color blind and actually meant for my red numbers to be green numbers.  Yeah.  I'm gonna go put that up on my Secret "visualization board" now.  

Or maybe I'll just take a nap.  After a shot of Bailey's.  Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Monday, March 23, 2009

An open letter from Jennifer...

Dear America,

OMG.  Get some thicker skin already!  JEEBUS.  Why do we freak out whenever anybody says anything that's not 100% politically correct?  Why?  Do you not have enough to do?  (If that's the case, I have a bathroom you can scrub to kill some time and a closet that really could use some alphabetical organization...)  So what that Obama said his bowling was on par with the Special Olympics athletes.  WHO CARES?!  Shouldn't that be a compliment?  I'd love to have a bowling score worthy of entering the Special Olympics.  I can't bowl over a 34.  I'M NOT KIDDING.  I can only assume that Special Olympic athletes are better than me.  Why is that wrong for me or Obama to say?  If he'd said, "You know Bobby Smith, that massive tard over on Main Street who lives with his mother the alcoholic?  Yeah, I bowl about as good as that drooling asshole."  Okay, get mad if he says that.  BUT HE DIDN'T.  So get the f*ck over it.

Can we all just agree that if something offends us, we'll just let it go?  For example, I do that every time I hear country music.  Or when I  see anything on Fox News.  Or whenever I see someone who has a really deep wedgie.  Or see a cake that's been ruined by coconut sprinkled all over it.  (BLECH.)   I just let it all go.  I don't start national movements.   I don't demand apologies.  I don't form groups and spend my day emailing the media.  I just say, "Ha, what an a-hole for being so ill-informed!" and move on with my small existence (and fabulously large ego).

But you know what... I'm going to go back on my statement from only a few sentences ago.  (Cuz I'm a stereo-typical woman.  Did that offend you??)  I'd actually like to start a national movement called "GET THE F*CK OVER IT DAY"!  It's a day where nobody is allowed to complain about anything.  It's a day where nobody is allowed to file any lawsuits for coffee that was too hot.  It's a day where nobody gives the finger for not turning right on red.  It's a day where Jesse Jackson isn't allowed to hold a press conference.  It's a day where all religions get along despite their differences.  (Finally, I can build that church to Thor!)  It's a day where, just for once, we all get along like the human beings we're supposed to be.  Faults, differences, wedgies and all.  We just love everybody.  

So what say you, America?  Earth Day started out as just one day, and now it's a lifestyle.  A positive lifestyle.  So let's start another!  Before we blow ourselves up... all over words that were given a hateful meaning that was never intended.  

Thor's speed,
Jennifer (Eolin)

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

This New Old Biddy Goes Green! (Or how I'm the last person to jump on this bandwagon cuz I'm an idiot)

My day job, when I'm not being HILARIOUS, is working as a very serious, hard-working producer for cable reality television.  So the other day, I was talking with a co-worker and we got to chatting about "living green."  Here's the conversation that ensued:

ME:  "I have been trying to go more green lately."
Co-Worker: "Yeah, but I hate when people think recycling makes them 'so responsible.'  I mean, that started 20 years ago.  It's not new, it's just part of life."
ME:  (high pitched nervous laugh)  "HAHAHAHHAA!  Yeah.  HAHAHAHA!  Jerks those people. ... Jackasses even.  HAHAHAHAHAA!  Ahem... oh look, is that the time?  Is that clock made out of recycled plastic, do you think?  HAHAHA!  I should go mulch something.  TA!"

You see, I'd JUST started seriously recycling about a week prior to this conversation.  And I'm 30-mumble-years-old.


Okay.  Now before you go all Ed Begley Jr. all over my ass, just calm your organic rage for a nan-second and listen while I defend myself with very well thought out (and legit) excuses:

1)  Recycling bins are not always available in LA... but porn is accessable 24/7.  You would think recycling in LA would be easy, right?  WRONG.  I've lived her for 10+ years and I'm currently living in the first apartment to have recycling bins.  All my other apartment managers told me, "It's too expensive to get recycling for our building."  Awesome.  Your Coach purse was expensive too, but you got that, didn't you?  Is that saving the Earth or just your reputation around your fake friends?  (I like to project.)  So I place blame on my past apartment managers (cuz it's easy and true).

2) I tried to recycle once and failed worse than Donald Trump in a hair show.  When I was married, my husband and I decided, "Even though our building doesn't have a recycling program, let's keep everything and recycle on our own."  So we kept everything!  Bottles, plastics, cans, cardboard, magazines, all paper, etc.  Now, let me explain.  We were not rich people and lived in an already cramped apartment, so then throw on top of that the fact that we were actively saving our garbage... let's just say that my OCD tendencies were stretched to their limit, along with my patience and good nature.  So after living in our own personal Unstrung Heroes, we finally loaded up the car and went to the recycling plant. We were so jovial, "We're contributing to saving our planet!" we said.  (We were also thrilled to have a place to walk in our apartment again.)  Fast forward to 2 HOURS LATER... we emerged hot, filthy, angry and with a whole $8 in our pocket for our endeavors.  We felt like we'd done a lot of work for nothing.  We sacrificed our living environment and comfort level for $8.  Let's just say that was the last time we visited the recycling plant.

3)  I'm stupid... and stuff.  I admit that I never really gave that much thought about it.  I left phone chargers plugged in all the time.  I'd leave with lights left on so I could identify the Boogie Man when I got home (he's real, ya'll!).  I'd throw away cans, bottles, paper, plastics and everything else into the garbage can.  I'd drive around at night for over an hour just cuz I didn't want to go home yet.  I thought Earth Day was "cute."  I really just didn't get it.

But the day I got it... OMG, I got it.  I happened to notice that my medicine bottles from the pharmacy were recyclable. (I told you I was clueless, so stop yelling!)  I stopped to think...

I've been on average 2 medicines a day since 1990.  Refilling 1x a month.  So that's 24 bottles a month.  24 bottles a year x 18 years... 432 bottles (minimum - I get other random illnesses a lot) that could have been recycled.  

My stomach sank.  That's just medicine bottles.  I read like 9 magazines a month.  I'm a writer, I've printed THOUSANDS of pages over the years.  Tossed hundreds of water bottles.  I don't even want to think about all the carboard packaging I've thrown out over the years.

Holy.  Shit.  Balls.  
I.  Am.  An.  Asshole.

Dear Planet Earth,

I'm so sorry, I hope you can forgive me.  
And I hope that my not recycling doesn't contribute to the end of the world... 
Electricity is The Devil!
Jennifer (Eolin)

PS - Is it okay that my dog pees on you?

So now, "going green" has become a lifestyle that I'm trying to incorporate into every aspect of my life without becoming a complete snotty twit about it.  Oh sure, it's been about 4 weeks of this lifestyle, but better late than never, right?  I recycle everything thanks in part to my awesome apartment manager having the wherewithall to be environmentally conscious!  I unplug everything that I'm not using (still working on the TV and electronics).  I got my dog a patch of grass for inside the apartment so I wouldn't have to use pee pads (which were filling up my garbage can every other day!).  I have re-usable bags for when I shop.  I use cold water to wash my clothes (thank you Coldwater Deep Clean Tide!) and I'm saving to buy a eco-friendly car.  I think I've found a solar charger for my cell phone even!  

I know there are a million other things I can do to be green, but I'm still in square one of all this. So short of turning Amish (the most eco-friendly people on the planet!) this is my contribution to keeping the Earth from committing suicide.  Maybe someday I'll even get a mulcher for my apartment (although I'm not sure what I'd do with the mulch...) and solar panels for my car (even though it will probably look stupid, kinda like the Smart Car which really doesn't look that smart, to be honest).  But until then, I'm gonna be really excited about my bag of recyclables.  And try to figure out how to get my dog hooked up to a wind mill...

Monday, March 16, 2009

Matilda On the Green

Just needed to share...
 little Matilda on her very own inside patch of grass.
No more pee pads, cuz she's a fancy dog.

If you live in LA - check it out!

Friday, March 13, 2009

Poll #1 is closed!

Boy howdy do I love the "poll" gadget that I can add to my new blog.  WOO!  I have so many burning questions that will need answering.  (I may need an intervention soon.  Not yet.  But soon.  But not yet.)

So Poll #1 addressed the all important question:  Are hoodies age-inappropriate for people over 35?

3% (or 6 of you) answered, "Heck yes!  Wear grown up clothes already!"  My response:  Hmph.  Where am I supposed to put my tissues if I'm not wearing a hoodie?  Riddle me that, and then get back to me, k?  (And don't tell me my pant's pocket - that leaves an unslightly bulge that irritates me only slightly less than a visible panty line.  I MAY have some OCD issues...)

2% (or 5 of you) answered, "I'm a nudist and therefore cannot answer this poll."  My response:  WHERE do YOU put your tissues?!  (NO!  Don't answer that! LALLALALLAAAA!)  

Ahem... Moving along...

42% (or 73 of you who are SANE) answered, "Nope, it's quite hip.  Even to a wedding."  I couldn't agree more!!  If I ever do get married again (BUWAHAHHAHAHAHHAA! Oh God, I said a funny...) I will get married (HAHHAA! I can't say "married" without laughing!)  in jeans and a hoodie.  Although, I might splurge on a hoodie that's over $25... just like I did when I spent a whole $27.50 on my wedding dress.  (You read that right - this new old biddy likes to bargain shop!)

And 55% (or 95 of you who are also sane but have a touch of 'the sassy' in you) answered, "I agree with whatever Tim Gunn thinks."  I'm pretty sure he hates hoodies I'd bet my life on it.  Along with leggings, which thankfully I don't wear so he can't totally hate my entire wardrobe.  Although he probably would anyway as it's just a big old closet of the same thing in different colors.  He would sigh a lot whilst flicking through the bevy of hoods.  And he would do so in my face while flexing his jowels of disappointment at me.  

In my next poll, hoodies are so far the clear winner.  This gives me hope.  And hopefully, will make Tim Gunn reconsider the importance and beauty of a hoodie.  Wow, did I just really type that?  Okay... I may need that intervention now...

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I like to write letters

"I'm so angry, I'm going to write them a letter."  These are fighting words in my family.  And weapons of mass destruction.   

I grew up learning to speak my mind from a young age.  I wrote all kinds of letters:  thank you notes, cards, inquiries, and complaints.  Letters that complained were my favorite.  Who's surprised?

As I got older, I realized there was a litany of people who needed letters who weren't getting them because they... well they didn't really exist (as in being a breathing human being) or there would be no way for me to get an address.  Did I let this get in my way - heck to the no!

I've been very lucky in that I have a "humor column via a letter" published every month on the Letters to the Editor page of the LA Times Sunday Magazine.  My latest letter came out this weekend and I'd like to share it with you:

It's under "Letters to the editor" on the bottom of the second page.  And keep in mind... if you enjoy the letter, you are a New Old Biddy.  

Friday, March 6, 2009

Are you a New Old Biddy?

You may be a New Old Biddy if... own more than 5 "As Seen On TV" products and actually use them.
...tea is your drink of choice when asked, "What'll ya have?" at a bar.
...Shirley Temples are a close second behind tea. start to not be able to hear people at parties and complain about how loud the music is.
...your purse contains the following at ALL times:  mini-first aid kit, Bean-o, 5 pens (3 without caps), wadded up tissues, gum, Chapstick and a tampon.
...your cell phone's fanciest feature is "texting." have the most expensive towing package from AAA because, "You never know!" curl your hair. will only shop in stores where you have coupons or club cards.
...people tell you that you own a very sensible car.
...MTV pisses you off because its "not like the old days." worry about how much caffeine you've had after 6pm and if it will keep you up all night. look at pictures of yourself from only a few years ago and think, "I was so young then..." REALLY don't understand that noise kids are listening to nowadays.  You're not just saying it as a joke anymore.
...working until 7pm is considered "working way late" and you have to go straight to bed when you get home. still use stamps to mail your bills and have a general distrust of online banking.
...your most frequented websites are WebMD and LOLDogs. can only go to one venue a night, and if it doesn't have a parking lot, forget it!
...anything that starts after 9pm is a hassle and will most likely be skipped in favor of sitting on the couch with your dog. long for the simpler times of the 1980's. have a list of foods that don't agree with you and freely share it with anyone who suggests a restaurant that has one of those food items, along with a blow by blow description of what happens to you when you eat said food. carry re-usable bags in your purse and make a big deal about using them whenever possible.

And last, but not least...

...You wear a hoodie year round cuz you're always cold, even in the summer time.  


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