Zounds...

For the time being, my blog will be the same shade as my sunburn!

Wow!

Today is my blog's first birthday! Huzzah!

Nudie...

Here's my contribution to "Half-Nekkid Thursday" titled "Pale arm, scarred-up hand, watch and evil-eye bracelet." 

Music tag...

Ago tagged me with this one. Anyone who is reading this, whoever you may be, feel free to pass this one along!

1. Total volume of music files on my computer: 258. Not too many, but I'm just getting the hang of my iPod.
2. The Last CD I bought was: "The Essential Leonard Cohen"
3. Song Playing Right Now: The last song I listened to was "That's Just What You Are" by Aimee Mann.
4. Five songs I listen to a lot (in no particular order):

--"Superstar" by The Carpenters. I absolutely love Karen Carpenter's voice, especially on this track. I will belt this one out while driving.

--"So In Love" by OMD. Yes, they had songs other than "If You Leave" and this one blows everything else away!!

--"Dylsexic Heart" by Paul Westerberg. From the "Singles" soundtrack circa early 90s. Very peppy! "Do I hate you? Do I date you? Do I got a dyslexic Heart?"

--"Birdhouse in Your Soul" by They Might Be Giants. It is truly impossible to be in a lousy mood while listening to this song. Unfortunately, listening to more than one TMBG CD in one sitting/car ride can result in a certain degree of craziness.

--"Autobahn" by Kraftwerk. For anyone who doesn't know, they are the German great-granddaddies of electronica. Autobahn is about 25 minutes long and fairly creepy but it is also really hypnotic and very cool. For such a long song, it has only a few short, yet Germanically significant lyrics:

Wir fahr'n fahr'n fahr'n auf der Autobahn

Vor uns liegt ein weites Tal
Die Sonne scheint mit Glitzerstrahl


Die Fahrbahn ist ein graues Band
Weisse Streifen, grüner Rand


Jetzt schalten wir ja das Radio an
Aus dem Lautsprecher klingt es dann:
Wir fahr'n auf der Autobahn...

Translation:

We are driving on the Autobahn

In front of us is a wide valley
The sun is shining with glittering rays

The driving strip is a grey track
White stripes, green edge

Now we're switching the radio on
From the speaker it sounds:
We are driving on the Autobahn...

Summer plans part II... (depressing rant)

Although I'll be going to the Ukraine for my aunt's adoption trip, I'm hoping to use this as a perfect opportunity to get my life in order, get my head on straight, and hopefully finally discover what it is that I'm supposed to do with my life, be it a career direction or a total life path. All I know is that I'm not on the right path right now, or at least I wasn't before I was fired. I'm not on any path right now.

I really wanted to keep in touch with all my friends from work, especially considering that they are/were my only close, see-daily friends. Of course, that didn't happen and it was all my fault. My friend Rose emails me daily (sends me schmaltzy forwards and chain letters, actually) and has been calling but I just can't respond to her calls and messages. I just don't have the energy anymore to ask about how things and people I used to work with/for are doing. I'm not a part of the works anymore. I think that for me, the friendships were connected to the firm. I don't feel like a part of that anymore. I know this isn't true, but I'm just not up to it (social interaction.)

I am definitely in a depressive funk. There's very little I can do about it. I've got no real benefits, so apart from eating healthy and getting enough sleep I have no medicinal options. I'm still awaiting information on my COBRA benefits and my parents are super paranoid about anything happening to me. "Be careful! God forbid you get in an accident! How will you pay for your medical bills???" I guess it's a good thing that I rarely leave the house anymore these days. I have been showering, brushing my teeth, doing my hair, all the important stuff, but for all practical purposes I am a hermit. I did go to Starbucks today. It was good to see people I'm not related to.

I am looking for a job, but not really actively. Just my luck: I'd be offered the job of a lifetime the day before I fly to Kiev. I guess if they really wanted me, they'd wait a few weeks, but that's doubtful.

I'm hoping to find a job opportunity/career that would make a difference in someone's life. I just discovered this past weekend that the FBI wants no part of me, just as the Air Force didn't require my services. This time it's the history of asthma (or, as they phrase it, a physical defect) and the fact that I have a broad, extensive liberal arts background. They pretty much eliminated the "diversified" (any four-year degree and two years of work in a related field) background element for prospective special agents. I guess it's all anti-terrorism these days, so art thieves are prospering. Maybe deep down inside me, I just want to be a writer with a gun...and since Hunter S. Thompson is gone, there's a vacancy for that role. I want to have a creative job with some kind of super-authority connected to it.

Just as I want to make a difference in someone's life, I have a major problem: I don't especially like children, animals, or most other people. At least not right now. But I do want to touch someone's life. I want to be remembered for something other than being that goofy girl who was on Jeopardy all those years ago, who no one really felt comfortable talking to. Since having children may be a biological impossibility or a deadly serious risk to me, I want a little bit of immortality.

No, I'm not planning on offing myself, but my existance is one huge, muddy puddle right now.

Summer plans...

It looks like I will be accompanying my Aunt Marge to the Ukraine sometime this summer. She and her husband Dale will be adopting at least two children from an orphanage!!! The reason for the trip and the destination are the only concrete pieces of information I have, so planning this excursion is a bit of a problem. This is what I don't know yet:

Where in the Ukraine the orphanage is? It's a damn big country.
When we will be leaving? I was told sometime in June...or maybe July.
When we will be coming home: I was told we would be there for at least three weeks.
What will the accommodations be? Will we be in a hotel, an apartment, a house or something else?
Will I require a visa? I'm considering contacting the Ukrainian Embassy in Chicago. If someone knows the answer to this, please let me know.

The only issues I'm personally worried about are the proximity of the orphanage/hotel to Chernobyl combined with the quality/safety of root vegetables.

Even though this is one big pile of uncertainty, I'm more than happy to assist. And she's happy that I can make it...thanks to the fact that I'm not doing anything with my days for the time being and I'm the only available family member with a valid passport, but the passport is from 1997 when I was more than a bit heavier and my hair was considerably browner. The picture looks absolutely nothing like me anymore.

On a completely different note: Newsradio, the fantastic show from the late 90s with Dave Foley is out on DVD today! I've been watching it for the past few hours. Good stuff.

This is a test...this is only a test...

This is a test of "Hello." This is also a stupid picture of my feet taken in my bathroom 

Grub girl...

Today, for the first time since September, I wore shorts outside. For a normal person this wouldn't be such a big occasion, but for me it is huge. I'm a bit self-conscious about how pale I've become recently. No matter what I do, I'm always terribly anemic and super white. I take gross amounts of iron and vitamin C, I regularly eat spinach salads, I've done everything short of sucking on rusty nails; still the level is really low. I've had blood work done and I don't have leukemia, which is nice, yet troubling since my doctor was thinking in that direction. I've even started using a moisturizer with a built-in self tanner.

Today my mom saw me and we had the following conversation:
MOM: Wow Jen, you are really white!
ME: Yes, I already know that, thanks.
MOM: No, I mean really white. You know, when you turn over a rock and see those big white things in the dirt?
ME: You mean grubs?
MOM: Yeah, you look like one of those.

So, here I am. Grub girl.

and stranger...

Our nine-year-old cockatiel has recently been acting a little strange. Upon further inspection, I noticed that he was, um...how should I phrase this, rhythmically rubbing certain male bird parts along his perch. "No, that can't be," I thought, then did a little online research.

Yes, it's just as I thought.

He doesn't even have the decency to wait until the room is empty. Little winged perv.

My life keeps getting stranger...

It looks like I'll be spending the better part of June and July in The Ukraine! I'm sure I'll have more details later on, but right now I'm trying to wrap my mind around this development.

*gasp*...

I went to a Tigers game last night; they won in extra innings. Said inning were played after I had left, due to the fact that it was 50 degrees and I was cold, due to the flip-flop/bare foot fixation I am suffering from. Aside from that, all was good, fun, dandy (because I ate a really great hot dog) and surreal...because I saw Mr. Former Attorney Crush a few hours earlier!!!

I was walking past a restaurant on the way to Comerica Park and there he was, sitting in the front window eating dinner with a bunch of guys who I'm sure are fellow attorneys. He looked right at me but didn't seem to recognize me. I saw him and thankfully I was walking with a group of people because my gut dropped to my knees and I actually gasped out loud. And my fingers started tingling. Wow. If I saw him outside on the street someday, I would hope to say something like "Hey Bill, how's it goin'?" In reality, I'd probably be suffering some kind of ridiculous stammering fit and shock due to the rapid evacuation of my intestines to my patellas.

Damn, this crush just won't go away. I haven't seen a glimpse of him in over 6 months!

Too much time on my hands...

After spending several blissful hours of unsuccessfully searching for a job, my brain has the tendency to wander. A lot. And the brain invites in stupid ideas to get lodged in my head. I don't know where this idea came from, but it's really a winner: I want to make an "action" figure of myself. So I just finished doing a Google search and found a few people who will make a disturbingly realistic rendition of someone for several hundred dollars...so that's not an option. I think I'll go through my old She-Ra dolls and find someone who could resemble me (don't try to deny it--everyone had He-Mans and She-Ras during the 80s...some still might have them tucked away in storage.) Then, I'll get some model paint from the hobby shop and paint the whole clothing-covered body black and maybe cut the hair a bit and voila, there I'll be.

What type of "action" will the Jen figure be doing? I'll have to find a miniature coffee cup and a miniature copy of The New Yorker. I'll be "Half-Assed Job Searcher Girl." Maybe I'll find a turtle, maybe from an old Strawberry Shortcake collection from the 80s as well (where will I ever find that??) and I'll have a sidekick/means of transportation.

Ohh! Inspiration!

L'chaim...

This morning, I had such a weird dream. I was in an arranged marriage to a Hasidic Jew who I had only briefly met in the past. Actually, I do know who he is but I have absolutely no idea why he was in my dream; I've only seen him a few times several years ago. Who knows? Anyway, we were married and I remember telling everyone at work (I was still there, I guess) that I'll be hyphenating my last name so I could have a huge, imposing double-foreign, absence of vowels monstrosity. In my dream, I wore the long black skirts, long sleeved blouses and a head covering and he was dressed in the bekishe (long black coat) and black hat. He didn't have a full beard yet. I recall not knowing him very well but having the feeling that I would grow to love him. The dream ended when someone broke all the windows in my car as I was parking by the family house (we lived with his parents.)

Maybe I'm remembering a past life? It was extremely vivid.

New undies and other good things...

A few years back, whenever I was having a rotten, terrible day I would stop by Old Navy on the way home from work. Maybe once a month I'd buy myself a t-shirt or a cheap skirt I could get away with wearing to work. This afternoon I tried doing a mood-enhancing Old Navy shop to no avail. I tried on a few cute skirts and was hit with the realization that I'm way too short (and a bit old) for most of the hip flowy skirt styles. I eventually purchased a few tees but I got no mental satisfaction. Well, I guess my days have been getting progressively worse and now I'm finding myself getting into the really hard stuff: bras.

I just returned from Target after having gotten snagged by the intimate apparel section. It was a wonderful yet horrible splurge. I needed all new bras ever since discovering that most of my 25 pound weight loss pretty much disappeared from one particular portion of my bod. Now I have the same new bra in black, white and red. Sadly, I'm roughly the size I was when I was ten. Truly pitiful. I am completely unable to wear anything strapless, or tube top-ish, or halter-style.

Language lesson time! Underwear in Polish is pronounced ga-cheese (I'm not sure how to spell it.) It's Yiddish counterpart is gotkes (pronounced got-kees.)

Another something wonderful: I've been talking to my buddy Mike recently (we dated very briefly last June; he disappeared but later surfaced in January) and a few days ago we hung out at this great little hidden-jem bar in the middle of Detroit. Truly a great weird place. It's a Vietnam Veteran bar on Cass called The Old Miami and it is awesome! In the middle of the hood (seriously!) this little bar has a beautiful backyard with a koi pond and a big tree with a rope for swinging and bird feeders all over the place. It's truly an inner-city oasis. Back to Mike. He's just a friend; it's much better that way, but he is also the perfect dark and brooding tortured soul of my dreams. He's about 50 times more sad and depressing than I'll ever be. I'm extremely attracted to guys like that, but in the end it's very emotionally draining and damaging. I have no one else to hang out with who's willing to listen to my wet-blanket tales of woe. He likes to listen to them. He also likes to listen to Leonard Cohen. A lot. I'm going to a Tigers game with him on Tuesday. Should be interesting.

This would be the perfect time...

for me to get embroiled in a Scarecrow & Mrs. King-esque scenario. My schedule is completely open and I'm the last person in the world anyone would suspect to be a super spy.


I'd love to tell everyone that I work for a dull documentary film company (ala Scarecrow) and actually risk getting kidnapped by the Russians or Libyans every week. Then my totally odd-couple, way-too-hot-for-real-life partner would save me in the nick of time.

Alas, the chances of meeting a hottie super-spy secret agent in Sterling Heights, Michigan are slim to none. The closest representative from a governmental agency would probably be from the IRS and they're hardly clandestine.

I'm getting the hang of this...

I've just about mastered the unemployed loaf lifestyle. It's 2:18 pm, I've spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon watching old episodes of The X-Files on DVD while eating string cheese in bed. I'm still wearing a towel from my shower (much earlier) and I'm working up the initiative to figure out how to work my iPod. Also, thanks to Egan, I've got Dairy Queen on the mind. This funk needs to end!

Mulholland Drive...

Either I'm getting cinematically soft in the head, or David Lynch passed me up years ago. I just finished watching Mulholland Drive and am completely confused. I knew what was happening for the first 2/3 movie...the got totally lost. Can someone help me out??? Please???

I'm a huge David Lynch fan and have seen almost everything he's done (except for Eraserhead, which is on my list) and I should be able to follow the plot, but I'm baffled and am feeling slightly dumb. And now my head hurts. I miss the days of a good ol' severed ear.

Also, I must investigate Justin Theroux.

Go Giacomo!!! (or Hey buddy, why the long face?)

In honor of this year's long shot victory for Giacomo, I shall disclose that I'm not too far away from my competitive jockey weight of 105 pounds. Since I'm a hair under 5'2", this is quite do-able, healthwise. I plan on attending next year's Kentucky Derby in person, I shall wear a divine hat and I shall drink at least one mint julip. As for the horses, that's a totally different story. I may weigh as much as a jockey, but I'll leave them to the paid professionals: horses scare the shit out of me. It has something to do with their hooves and teeth. Also, I'm extremely allergic to them.

Old crush, revisited...

I was just thinking back to the good old days. Times were simpler, the air smelled sweeter, the days were longer and the hottie musicians were dressed as pirates with warpaint. Yes, that's right: Adam Ant (during his Prince Charming phase, I believe!)


While my buddies were in the throes of pre-adolescent loovvee with bands such as Poison and Bon Jovi, I had a certain affection for Mr. Ant. Although he's currently fallen on hard times, I'll never forget what we had together. How the cassette to his "Strip" album became a permanent fixture in my car...okay, it got stuck in the tape player, or how he had a starring role in an obscure made-for-TV movie called "Out of Time" that aired in 1988; he was on the cover of TV Guide and I taped it to my bedroom wall. I was eleven when it aired, yet for reasons I will never quite understand I remember the movie clearly. He was also awesome in this otherwise crappy made-for-TV movie I saw on Lifetime called "Love Bites" in which he played a vampire. His vampire character went into hibernation 300 or so years ago and was reanimated in today's Boston or Philadelphia. It was iffy, but he was quite attractive.

Maybe it's time to break out the warpaint, just for old time's sake.

Buy my stuff...

Instead of sitting around, doing nothing and making no money, I've decided to sit around, do nothing, and at the same time get rich quick (yeah, right) and de-clutterize my life. Check out my list of eBay listings under the "Cool Stuff" links heading. Unbelievably, some of my stuff is actually selling! I'm thinking about selling some Lily Pulitzer items in the near future, so those will probably get bidded up, I hope. This unemployment is a time of completely starting over from fresh and a time of new experiences. I've also been making a dent in my "Countdown to 30" list, but mostly by doing stupid stuff like throwing out old makeup and reading. I've got to start aiming higher (well, the Air Force isn't an option anymore.)

A burning crock of shit...

A few weeks ago, I attended a fashion show fundraiser held by the mom's club of my high school. At each place at the table was a goodie bag filled with hand creams, makeup samples and perfume testers...including "Paris Hilton" the signature of the one and only. On the little card that held the sample is written this unbelievably lame statement. Here it is word for word, just as it is written:

Paris Hilton

Paris is sharing the spotlight
with her first perfume

Like Paris herself, it is Mysterious, Intriguing
and Beautiful. Rich in its appeal, it defines
that moment in time when powerful sensuality
and breath-taking beauty are captured in a
way that
all can enjoy

Share a bit of the magic
that is Paris Hilton.
Find out what it smells
like to be a Star

Um, okay. What the fuck does any of that bullshit mean? "Defines that moment in time when powerful sensuality and breath-taking beauty are captured..." thank God we've got scientists capable of manipulating space and time so all future generations can experience this shit!

As part of "Non-Workday #3" I cleaned my bathroom, found the sample and thought "What the hell, I'll give it a try." It sorta smells like Bounce original-scent dryer sheets and it has given me an awful burning rash on my wrists. My rash isn't "Mysterious, Intriguing and/or Beautiful." It's nasty, odd-colored and irritating...much like Paris Hilton! Hey, I just might be onto something here!

Superficial good and bad news...

I went to a job fair this afternoon. Not too much action there. The U.S. Border Patrol looks promising. As I was getting dressed I realized that my new, never worn except for when I bought it, Kasper size 4P suit is a bit roomy. The revelation was more like this: Holy shit!!! I'm a size 4 on the bottom and a size 2 on top!!! I bought it this weekend and it really is awesome, but I was probably bloated when I tried it on. It's black, knee length, and stylish (no huge shoulder pads or big shiny buttons.) Simple and classic. Unfortunately, I look like a mortician in in. It needs a burst of colour. On the upside, I look like a badass, cute suit wearin' mortician!

The Unemployment Chronicles Part I...

Well, I am definitely unemployed. I'm at a crossroads, God has closed the door and I'm waiting for that window to open...cliche, blah, blah, even more overused cliche, blah, blah, blah. I've heard it all. As much as I would love to sit around all day in my ratty red plaid bathrobe and slippers, I won't let myself do it. To be more precise, my parents won't let me do it, but I don't want to be that unemployed loser, almost 30, who stopped changing clothes, started drinking heavily stereotype. It could happen; I can see it happening without much difficulty.

Here I am. I'm turning 28 next month and I'm still having the same never-ending question spinning through my mind: what do I want to be when I grow up? Here are my options:

1. Writer. I could easily see myself writing all day long. Happily sitting at Starbucks drinking cup after cup of coffee while letting the muse do her best. Maybe if the writer's block ever goes away. It's been with me for almost two years. This is when people get inspired to start writing: after losing one's job, getting dumped, or having a freak out. Since two of the three occur on a semi-regular basis for me, I should be breaking the block any time now.

2. Librarian. I am over halfway finished at Wayne State. It would be a shame to throw away all the time, effort and money I spent on the program. Unfortunately, I'm completely burnt out on the library thing for the foreseeable future. Maybe I'll re-examine this option in a few weeks or so. The job market isn't looking very good right now.

3. Professional chef. I love to cook. Maybe I should look into Schoolcraft College's program. This isn't a very serious option, but it does exist.

There are other ideas floating around my noggin, but I'm too exasperated to think much right now. Tomorrow I plan to sleep until I wake up, shower, get dressed adequately and drive my bad self over to Michigan Works! (The exclamation point is part of the name, I believe) to file a resume with the state as a stipulation of the unemployment benefits thingie (I don't want to leech off the system, but it would be nice to have a bit of money each week for gas, bills and other expenses.) Unfortunately, Michigan Works! is a block away from my old office. I hope I don't see anyone I know/knew. On that first non-work workday, I also plan on having a little bit of fun, but mostly that is involving reading Dr. Zhivago at Dunkin Dounts. Maybe I'll go to the gym. God, my life is dull.