A friend of mine is in Denver right now and she sent me this cuz she knew... I'd want to play on the bacon. Cuz I'm a dork. Who loves me some bacon. Mmmmm, nitrates.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Hey. Why must you always arrive in the triple digits? It was so nice this past week. Slightly overcast and cool. Mmmmm. Then today feels like I'm suffocating in Satan's underpants. Not my underpants of choice to be in, Summer. NOT AT ALL!
Dear National News Media,
Please figure out what is news, and what is not. Here are some examples for you: Iran elections = news. Hours of b-roll showing the exterior of UCLA Hospital while repeating the same 3 facts over and over = not news. California's budget crisis = news. Obama swatting a fly = not news.
Maybe you should sign up at the Learning Annex for some refresher courses?
Just the facts!
Dear Entitled Lady at the Bakery,
Just because you were there before me and my friend, does not mean you get to check out first. You ordered 394839043 things. My friend ordered 2 things. Her items were at the register when you elbowed her to the side to take your "rightful" position. Perhaps, if you made eye contact, you'd have seen that your items were A) not ready to be rung up and B) that there were other people around you. (And that your outfit was dumb looking. Just saying.)
Head on a swivel!
Dear Guy going the wrong way down a one-way street,
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! GOD! SERIOUSLY!?
Dear COBRA Health Insurance,
$304 a month. Bite me. (Which ironically, would then cost me an extra $50 to go to Urgent Care to get stitches.)
Dear Perez Hilton,
HAHAHHHAAA. 'Bout time. Enjoy being a nobody again.
Karma is a bitch!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
My lil' ol' blog is nominated for a major award! PLEASE click on the below graphic and scroll down until you find "The New Old Biddy" and then vote ONCE A DAY until July 6th.
Thank you for helping my blog!
*** UPDATE 6/25
WOOOO! Over a 100 votes so far! Thank you! :)
**** UPDATE - 6/24
There are some bugs with this voting website. Some people can see the titles, others, not so much. Some solutions people have told me about are using the Control F function, typing in New Old Biddy and it will find it for you (in the opened Funniest Blog section). Others run the mouse over the titles and they'll show a blurb from the nominated blog.
The leading blog has about 5500 votes. I have 55. Only a few to go to tie! ;)
Monday, June 22, 2009
"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love.
But then one suffers from not loving.
Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer.
To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer.
But suffering makes one unhappy.
Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer,
or suffer from too much happiness.
I hope you're getting this down."
-- Woody Allen
Single life is wonderfully interesting and crazy-ass boring at the same time. It's a series of fabulous highs and serious lows. In short, it's just freakin' different.
I feel guilty for feeling sad that I'm single. I'm not longing to get married (been there, bought the t-shirt) or even live with someone as I'm cool with my pooch, Matilda, as my only roommate. I have no biological clock so I'm not looking for a baby daddy. I just want a partner in life, that's all. And Target doesn't have an aisle for that. Condom aisle, sure. But someone to put in those condoms, not so much.
I've mentioned previously that I joined online dating. I'd like to propose that "online is to dating as Velveeta is to food." It's misleading, it smells like rotten cheese and is ultimately gaaaaa-ross. You would NOT believe the guys who have contacted me. Seriously.
After I weed out the 19-year-olds (who must have Mommy issues) and then weed out the over 50 crowd (because I don't have Daddy issues), I then read the messages from guys my own age. Which averages to about 3 guys out of the 100 messages. And holy tea bags, these guys are ridiculous. Thank GOD I'm a comedian or I'd be guzzling some Draino right about now.
This one guy emails me and starts out by saying: "Just because you have one bad picture, should that stop me from emailing you? No!" Ummmmmm. Dude. Seriously. THAT'S your opening line? IF I had written him back (which is hard not to do because A) it's rude not to, B) I was raised to write back and C) OMG I had so much to say!!) I would have said, "Hi! Thanks for the criticism! Since we're being so open, here's a tip for you: You should wear a shirt. ALWAYS. All of your pics are shirtless. You are not Fabio. But you do resemble a tub of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. Smooches!" Asshat.
Then there was a guy who's handle is "Shamwowza" and THANK YOU GOD, he's a cute guy! Finally! He contacted me and here's our (f'ing incredibly odd) exchange:
SHAMWOWZA: (re: your profile) Mind games, no... but board games, yes. Can you play pinochle?
JENNIFER: Nope. Can you absorb 20x your own weight?
SHAMWOWZA: Don't start with the bodyweight games!!! But I will say if you can do it, I can do it!!!
JENNIFER: BTW, your profile is ever so brief. But knowing you were rejected from eharmony is a plus.
SHAMWOWZA: I might start a website for all eHarmony rejects:for the proud: eHarmonyNOT.com
for the sensitive: eHarmonyHurtMyEgo.com
and for the sensitive but never-get 'em down crowd, we can have:
I have many things I'd like to share with people...certain people...not everyone
so, yes, my profile is ever so brief
WHAT?!?!??!?!?! THE END?!?! WTF?! If you didn't want to talk to me... WHY DID YOU MESSAGE ME!? (And by the way, I think the product Shamwow is a piece of crap in real life, so I should have known this guy was just also a lot of hype.)
"I was nauseous and tingly all over.
It was either love or I had smallpox."
In the meantime, I'm trying not to become bitter. I hate those people. "I'm broken," is one of the lamest excuses of why one can't love or trust. I never want to say that and mean it. I just have to remember, I'm just heart broken, not an unfeeling asshole. I want to keep trying. I want to not lose hope. I want to love and be loved back. And I will NOT settle. Ever. I have too much suffering to do!
Friday, June 12, 2009
"Why is there so much month left at the end of the money?"
-- John Barrymore
It's been a month and a half since I've joined the world of the unemployed. Because I left my job, I don't get unemployment benefits. (Maybe if I have 8 babies, the government will feel obliged to kick in for something?) I have to say zero income is pretty sobering. (Literally, who can afford to go out to drink when you have no money? ZING!)
As I was writing the above paragraph, I got a call from an agent in NYC who was doing me a favor (meaning, I wasn't signed with him cuz I hadn't gotten any work yet) to see if I could get my humor column syndicated or write for other magazines. "It hasn't been a good response, Jennifer," he said. "So we're going to have to close the book on this." I mustered a quiet, "Thank you for calling to let me know," and then hung up. I wanted to throw up, but I'm against throwing up, so thankfully that (disgustingly messy and stinky) activity was averted. (Plus I can't afford a new keyboard right now. Bonus! I just inadvertently saved money! Which is good since I just paid $609 to COBRA for health insurance. Paging Michael Moore!!)
And in what I'm calling "the best bad news ever" the pilot that I did for Oxygen will BE ON THE AIR! Happy fists! But I don't get paid for it! Pissy fists! The exposure will be great though since it will be national. And my family and friends who aren't in LA will get a chance to see me in action. And mayhaps more people will find my blog through it! I'll keep you posted on when it will air and if there are any future episodes... If I haven't died from starvation by that point. (HA! I kid! I can afford cereal and toast. Mostly. Is tap water a food group?)
I'm still working on my book.... slowly. Naps always seem just a bit more interesting and fruitful. As does rearranging my sock drawer, scrubbing the kitchen counter and cracking my knuckles and then commenting on the timbre of each crack to Matilda. (Who doesn't seem to care, but gives me nose kisses anyways out of pure pity.)
I'm working on my stand-up too... but scanning LOLDogs often seems like a better (and more hilarious) option.
F, kids. This new old biddy is a bit depressed.
The good thing is that I know it will pass. Everything does. That's the benefit of being a 30+1-mumble-something-year-old. Wisdom to know not sweat the small stuff (as best you can). Also, I have good friends and an awesome dog, which are what matter at the end of the day. Writing will get easier, I'll shake off the "disappointments" and find new things to be excited about. Life will go on!
"The only thing money gives you is the freedom to not worry about money."
So until I find a paycheck (or a sugar daddy - takers??), I shall try to find my mojo so I can start writing again. I know that I have the talent to do it. I just need the positive energy. Maybe I'll find it after I take a nap...
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
...And here's why.
I got an email from my mom today. Usually my mom's emails include the weather, what they ate that day, etc. They are generally lovely emails and I look forward to hearing about their day so it feels like the 3000 mile gap between us isn't so big. (Also, I have found that after living out here for 14+ years, if I don't know what they had to eat that day, I get very discombobulated and feel out of touch. I know none of you are surprised by this...) Generally her emails give me pangs of homesickness. Today's, however, took a left turn and I left me thinking, "If I move to Hawaii, I can put another couple thousand miles between us."
You see, today, she sent along pictures of "things in the backyard." This always makes me happy as my "yard" is a concrete slab that attracts douche bags and they actually have acres of plush land with pretty trees that don't house rats and other vermin. (GA-ROSS!)
First up in the yard... their chocolate lab, Wilbur.
Awwww. I miss Wilbur. Always adorable and the best snuggler on the planet (besides Matilda!).
Second... the triplets.
Awwww. Happy little family! My parents also get a plethora of rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels and deer. All adorable!!
The third picture... The mutha-f'ing bear that lives in the woods behind our house.
And that, ladies and gentlemen... is why I don't always miss home.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Since quitting my job in order to live the dream (of unemployment and hot dogs for dinner on a nightly basis), I've been spending a lot of time in front of my talking idiot box. And I'm actually one of the rare few that LIKE commercials since a lot of them have my friends in them and the other ones tell me how I can achieve softer skin. (Friendship and soft skin are my two top priorities in life.)
However, this commercial is on ALL the time and I have no patience for it at all as A) I have no friends in it, B) it does nothing for my skin and C) I find myself yelling at the television every time it airs like the biddy that I am.
This commercial is so stupid it should be illegal. Really, Marcia Cross? The secret in apple juice is that there's 2 servings of fruit in each cup? Really? REALLY!?
THERE ARE TWO SERVINGS OF FRUIT IN APPLE JUICE?! Wha--??
Up yours, lady, that's not a secret. If Mott's Apple Juice has as much protein as a Cornish game hen, THAT'S a flipping secret. Or that it clears up your skin better than Proactive. Or that monkeys will fly out of your ass and perform your favorite song from "Cabaret." THESE ARE ALL MAGICAL SECRETS! BAH!
And let's talk about something else that's Marcia's secret but won't talk about - that Botox. Just drink your two servings of fruit and age with the rest of us. Or go back to hawking Olay products. But promise you won't start doing hot dog commercials. I really don't want to know how many servings of butt and giblets I'm eating...