Our apartment

This is the first place I've lived that I've designed from scratch. The following are a few of my favorite bits...


The Zep.


Who really needs 2 bookshelves? And we are still missing one poster right above the smaller bookshelf.


Brie's leashes, Owen's Frisbee and my Audrey print...


The Wall O'Ladies in the bedroom...

Me

Me, originally uploaded by jrh0119.

...at 8 AM. Owen, Brie and the rest of the world are still in bed. I'm going to work. I think my company hates me....

Brie has returned...

Brie has returned..., originally uploaded by jrh0119.

...now I am going to sleep. I have work tomorrow. I hate life.

Souvenir from Austin

New Key Ring, originally uploaded by jrh0119.

I found this awesome key ring at a vintage shop while wandering the streets of Austin.

Austin Wedding....

12-30-07_1337, originally uploaded by jrh0119.

Jordo and I taking a break from frisbee in the hotel parking lot

Table 10

The wedding was awesome! Our table lives in infamy. After a round of tequila shots in the van, we ruled the reception. Random people took our pictures and asked us to entertain at their weddings. Highlights of the evening: Brent and Evan taking their shirts off on stage while dancing to YMCA, the wheelchair lady's "dance moves," Owen spinning me through a whole song just so he could drink beer with his free hand, the priest's blessing of Owen's beard, 2-stepping w/Jordo (neither us really knew what we were doing). An amazing night...a pretty rough morning. I declare this weekend a success!

Greetings from Austin...

O and I are in Austin for a wedding. We are staying w/5 other people in a double-bed hotel room. Needless to say, it is cozy. The bar last night served these great hot chocolate drinks w/Bailey's, cinnamon schnapps, whip cream, cinnamon sprinkles and a cinnamon stick . Yum! I have to figure out to recreate it in Denton-town. We are all traveling around in Jordan's minivan...I'm sure we look like a very odd crime team as we pile out of it all in dark sunglasses.  

In other news, Brie is hanging out w/Jake all weekend. She's already made friends w/a fellow furry critter and attacked Will's gun collection. 

Time for showers, and then wedding festivities. Have a lovely evening!

A Few of My Favorite Things from 2007

CDs That Made the Cut

• Regina Specktor's "Begin to Hope"- I technically bought this in 2006, but I had to repurchase it after my last roommate acquired it in the divorce. I recommened the re-relase with extra songs if only for "Dusseldorf" very Tori Amos-ish...
• Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black" and "Frank"- I bought "Back to Black" the week it was released which coincidentally was the week of SXSW, so that's what it reminds me of now. "Frank", however, has gotten major spins in my car these past couple of months. Amy is a great lyricists and a true artist. 
• Lily Allen's "Alright, Still"- I had to search for this CD. I finally found it in the Denton Barnes and Noble, buried in the back. Well worth the search. "Not Big" reminds me of an ex...yeah, that one.
• Feist's "The Reminder"- Yes, the iPod girl...but so much more. Wearer of fantastic bejeweled cobalt body suits, ridiculous dance moves and fabulous bangs, Feist is every indie girl's pin up. "Brandy Alexander" is one of my Owen songs.
• The Feds "A Touch of Panic"- The soundtrack to many good times I don't remember having.
• Necko Case and Her Boyfriends "Furnace Lullaby- Released in 2000, I found this CD a few months ago at our library and was blown away by both her lyrics and her voice (very Janis mixed w/Loretta). Standouts include "Twist the Knife" and "Thrice All American" 
• Rilo Kiley's "Under the Blacklight"- Sure the brighten even my darkest day, I can dance to this CD for hours, preferably in my underwear. It's smart without being self-righteous, fun without losing it's edge...and Jenny Lewis is fucking hot.
• Sirens Sister "Echoes from the Ocean Floor" -Possibly the hottest and gayest band I've ever met...it hurt. But their music gets me through the workday. Zach's deep, yummy vocals over 80's-tinged rock...very satisfying
• Mandy Moore's "Wild Hope"- From the artist that brought you "Candy", this album is suprisingly good. Mandy seems to have some baggage this time around. Hopefully, she'll continue to get screwed over by boys, so we won't have to be tortured w/A Walk to Remember in music form.... 
• Straylight Run's "The Needles The Space"- I loves the harmonies and the alternating male and female leads. "Who WIll Save Us Now" puts my thoughts on Christianity into song form. Genuis!
• Yeah Yeah Yeahs "Is Is"- Another library find, I love this EP. My only complaint is that I wish it were longer. 
• Death Proof's Soundtrack- This CD is full of odd, country-tinged R&B/oldies rock songs perfect for a summer drive in Smalltown, Texas. 
• Gwen Stefani's "The Sweet Escape"- Shhh...don't tell anyone.
• Upside's "Jim Beam & the American Dream"- If only because it took my boyfriend away from me for a whole month....
• Albert Hammond, Jr. “Yours To Keep”- A solo project from the lead singer of The Strokes, you’re guaranteed a great day when you jam this during your commute. Standouts include: “Postal Blowfish”, “Holiday” “Hard To Live In The City” and “Bright Young Thing.”

Movies That I Sat Still Long Enough to Watch

• Factory Girl- If you’ve read my previous blog on Myspace, you are aware of my obsessive nature towards Edie Sedgewick. Honestly, I could watch this movie every day.
• Grindhouse Features- I love how these campy movies remained awesome despite their cheesy plots (zombies, a girl w/a machine gun leg, a stuntman who kills young girls with his car). Also, the bonus DVDs are a must, because they show you all the behind-the-scene secrets you might miss otherwise.
• No Country for Old Men- Possibly the scariest, most realistic movie I’ve ever seen. Not for the faint of heart, there is no soundtrack, camera tricks or CGI to distract you from the horror on the screen. The stark backdrop of small town, desolate Texas doesn’t help. Reminds me of home…Freer, how I miss you.
• Lars & the Real Girl- Sweet, cute, a little off…kind of like me
• Superbad- That boy from Chemistry class who thought farting was funny grew up, wrote a screen play and now summers in the Hamptons. Be prepared to laugh your ass off despite your better judgment.

The Best Books I Read During My Lunch Hour and In Bed On Football Sundays

• Nora Ephron’s I’m Sorry About My Neck- A collection of short musings from the legend. A girly read that knows no age.
• Stephanie Klien’s Straight Up and Dirty- Her humor, honesty and self deprecation flavor this memoir about the demise of her young marriage. Check out her blog at www.stephanieklien.com
• Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex- A hermaphrodite’s journey in self discovery and definition. The perfect read for those that think sexuality is a black and white issue.
  
• Robert Kurson's Crashing Through- A blind man regains his site after a lifetime of darkness. A terrible movie, but an amazing nonfiction read (nonfiction as in this guy really exists).
  
• Emma McLauglin's Dedication- From the writers of the Nanny Diaries and Citizen Girl, this is the closest thing to chick-lit I can tolerate. The book is about a twentsomething girl’s first love who becomes a pop star with songs written about her. A bit indulgent but entertaining nevertheless.
  
• J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows- A perfect ending to one of my favorite collections. I’m a nerd, a hot one, but a SUPER HUGE nerd….
  
• Elyn R. Saks' The Center Cannot Hold- My final read of the year, this memoir is written by an extremely smart lady who battles schizophrenia while attending Vanderbilt, Oxford and Yale Law School. She vividly describes bouts of psychosis, her stays in various mental health facilities and her daily struggle to stay alive.
• Rob Sheffield's Love Is A Mix Tape- A great tribute of love through music and memories.
• Doug Crandell's The Flawless Skin of Ugly People- After this one, I wanted to start a book club just so to have someone to discuss it with. Powerful...

I hate The Hills...

Since I don't have cable, I'm catching up on The Hills via websites. And I have a few concerns...

Why does this program remind me of the bad pre-teen Canadian drama, Degrassi?

Kick rocks?

I would love it if Owen painted an urban mural on the main wall of our apartment...after all, nothing says class like gold spray paint...

Why the hell does Lauren have the job I would kill for even though she doesn't have a brain in her pretty little skull?

Justin Bobby...he has 2 first names...and wore combat boots to the beach...

I love the staged dad/son-in-law talk...awkward stage-ness

How many times can my ex-boyfriend's band's song play on a single tv show?

Peaced-out? A verb?

Lastly, why the fuck does Lauren get to go to Paris for TeenVogue..can't she afford to go it alone....

Merry Christmas to one and all..

I'm spending Christmas Eve with Brie in bed playing on my new Macbook, drinking a beer and listening to chick rock. I love being an adult! 

I don't need Santa...I have a Visa check card. 

Jennifer's Essentials

I recommend:

• Winter Brew by Samuel Adams...the best winter beer I've had thus far...
  
• Necko Case's first album "Furnace Lullaby" for great dish-washing music
  
• "Orgasm" by Nars for the perfect winter flush
  
• Gap for cozy sweaters...ideal layering basic
  
• ultra-moisturizing shampoo (Bed Head "Oatmeal & Honey"), conditioner (Aussie "Moist") and lotion (Cetaphil/Bath and Body Works "Black Currant Vanilla")...this weather is hard on my skin/hair...
  
• "Dreaming in Libro:How a Good Dog Tamed a Bad Women" by Louise Bernikow...a great read about a four-legged love affair...
  
• Wik's new "Campfire" candle...almost as good as my far pricier French version
  
• jezebel.com when you want to waste a few hours at work...
• No Country for Old Men for a disturbing movie with great cinematography.
  
• pineapples even though they aren't in season...
  
• a furry creature to cuddle up to...
  

The Lollibombs...and I'm now 23....

As part of my birthday celebration, I saw the Lollibombs last night in Dallas. Nothing like watching topless girls dance around on stage while drinking wine out of a plastic cup to ring in my 23rd year of life on this planet. And may I say that they were awesome dancers and very pretty ladies. This burlesque show wasn't cheesy, grind-my crotch in your face dancing. Nope, it was more like jazz dancing with a side of ballet and multicolored, tasseled, beaded pasties. It was fantastic! Thumbs up from both male and female spectators. My personal fave routine was the red-headed cop and tiny cat burglar...Interesting observation: Most of the people there were female.

To those who missed out, it was great fun and I'm sorry you weren't there to enjoy it.

Editor's note: I'm sorry for the hiatus. I've had a very nasty case of writer's block. Hopefully, I'm in recovery now. I'll keep you posted. Much love and well wishes this holiday season...

Don't Date a Musician Unless You're Glutton for Self Abuse...

Owen had his farewell show last night. Because of this, I no longer am a musician's girlfriend. However, I've dated my fair share of band boys. In honor of this and because it no longer is applicable going forward w/my life, here's my list of reasons that it sucks to date musicians.

Despite their good looks, tight jeans and oblivious attitude, these gentlemen do have their downfalls. I'm here to expose them....

1.) Super fans, ex-girlfriends who are fans, groupies, sorority girls who slum it for the night but still think they are better than you, the bassist's extremely stoned girlfriend, rude door people who just won't give me my fucking bracelet...all people you have to deal w/on a nightly basis
2.) Foam earplugs take up residence on your floor, night stand, bathroom counter or any open space.
3.) Your hot fling may become your live-in boyfriend in a matter of months without your consent...blame the state of constant filth in the band house...
4.) Speaking of, the band house....a great place to party...the worst place to live. Dirty bathrooms, sticky floors from the keg spill last month, STD-infested couches and rodents are a given. I suggest taking him back to your place or bringing your own set of sheets.
5.) In the dating stage, always bring enough money to pay for your movie ticket AND his...this never changes, by the way.
6.) Large phone bills...he's never in town on the weekends and goes on tour for 3 month stretches but somehow manages to drunk dial you religiously at 3 AM.
7.) Road tripping to his show in middle-of-nowhere Kansas..only to have a few beers while sitting through sound check of all 20 bands and then pass out in the van way before their set.
8.) The van...every band has one. Basically, same disarray as the band house but w/wheels. NEVER take anything in to the van that you wouldn't mind losing, getting soiled w/beer and whiskey or smelling like pot.
9.) Pot...all band boys have smoked weed at some point. Drinking gets dull after awhile and you have to do something to fill your time between shows. If you have any issues w/occasional drug use, I recommend avoiding the entire musician genre...
10.) He lives out of his backpack and his clothes reflect this...he will never willingly wear a pair of dress pants and a starched shirt...date a banker.
11.) Air-drumming and air-guitar...he will bust these moves all day every day regardless if he's listening to music or not. I've actually seen Owen drum on our dog. I don't think she sustained any injuries.
12.) He has a different sleep schedule then you. His job starts at 10 pm in the evening and can last up until 530 am. Don't expect him to be to excited about Sunday brunch or anything that starts before 3 in the afternoon.
13.) You will be exposed to the best and worst that music has to offer. Mostly the worse...
14.) The inner circle. Be prepared to be sucked into everyone's drama...whether it be because the lead singer's girlfriend got wasted and left with that other band's drummer or that the bassist refuses to pay rent and is thinking of quitting the band to join the army, you will hear about it and take sides...
15.) Your constant weekend state of hungover...prepare accordingly throughout the week w/extra cardio, water and sleep.
16.) He won't buy you that ring from Tiffany's, a new Mercedes or even a half pint of Ben & Jerry's. He's habitually broke. Apparently being a rock star doesn't count as work experience.
17.)their idea of "date night" is a spot on the guest list and their drink tickets at the bar ;-) (by shanna, wearer of many dresses and proud pet mommy..partakes in the occasional band boy)

Yes, the role of musician is best left to the young and good-looking, otherwise they would never get any ladies. But, despite all their downfalls, they are a great group of gentlemen who are kind and caring despite their rough exteriors. Just be prepared before you take that hot blue-eyed guitarist home w/you...because like a stray puppy, he'll grown on you before you have the time to take him to the pound....

Note: Ladies, feel free to send me a few more. I know we all have them. I will probably continue to add to this list, as it is a subject very near and dear to my heart...

When the cat's away....

Note: My boyfriend is out of town on band-ness for the rest of the week. This is a tell-all of ladies left to their own devices.

I arrived home at around 700 after a torturous day at work. I did my light-weight toning circuit. I watched my fave TV programming, ANTM and Gossip Girl. I ate the left-overs of a meal my boyfriend made on Monday. I drank a few glasses of wine while eating strawberries and chocolate. I skimmed the latest issue of Glamour (Jennifer Garner looks A-mazing and I loved the "Treat Yourself" section...a few of those items will end up in my closet). Drank another glass of wine. I did some dishes. Poured myself another glass. I cleaned up our apartment. Read over the gossip sites. I tried to explain to Boo why daddy isn't home yet. Now, I'm finishing up the bottle...deciding on my night cap. Sex and the City or porn?

Dear Leering Asshole In the Ford Truck/On Fry Street/Out Between 12:00-1:00 PM/On Sunday,

I don't run to attract attention. I'm not a Baywatch extra. Honking, shouting, whistling or staring will not get you a date. I will probably flip you off or just ignore you. If you dare have the balls to stop your car and try to talk to me while I'm running, I will assume you are trying to rape/kidnap me. In which case, I have taken self defense. I would avoid this at all cost if you value your balls and/or penis.

On Friday night, I didn't get dressed up for you. I enjoy my little dress and cute boots, too. I know I look good in them, otherwise I wouldn't waste my money. I don't enjoy your drunken groping or slurring. My friends and I like to dance alone. Unless, you would like to buy one of us a drink. In which case, we will tolerate you for maybe 5 seconds. Always keep in mind we can drink you under the table. You will be laughed at the next morning.

If you see me on my lunch hour, I'm not wearing my pinstripes because I thought I might see you at Subway. Truth be told, I work in the fashion industry. I'm expected to dress nice/trendy daily. I do enjoy the occasional compliment during the day time hours if done with class (ie "You look nice today.") while looking at my face...the object above my breasts.

I don't wear tank tops, leggings, or skirts to Kroger to be visually raped by you. I know that it's cold in the freezer section. I know that my leggings and gym shorts are extremely tight. I know, as a man, you are incapable of keeping your eyes off of my chest region . However, I am young enough to be your daughter, perhaps your grand-daughter. Basically, you're an old man who creeps me out. And next time, you may get a gallon of ice cream to the back of the head.

If at any time you see me in public and think I might have thought of you while dressing, just ask me. I'll be happy to remind you just how wrong you are.

Sincerely,
Jennifer

Update on Me/Drowning in Work

I've been working 9-10 hour days, every day, at this new job...which explains my lack of writing and the pounds that are slowly creeping back on. For example, I worked 830 AM to 700 PM yesterday w/a 15 min. lunch break! Ridiculous...

However, I need this line for my resume and recommendation from my Anna Wintour-lite boss. Not to mention, I gotta bring home the kibble for my child...and her kibble is fancy/expensive.

Hopefully, things will slow down and I can go back to my regularly scheduled programming soon. Hopefully, I'll get some writing done over the weekend...but it's looking like I need to go in at least once this weekend to organize my wreck of a filing cabinet. Awesome!

Back to the daily grind...

The freak

I wasn't suppose to be this weird. My parents are normal, albiet a little boring, country folk from Oklahoma. They raised two normal creatures of normal intelligence, average looks and borderline personalities. I am the freak.

I knew I was the weird child early on. During my third grade winter break, I read Little Women. My brother and sister watched cartoons on the couch and ate too much candy.

My parents did what they could to trim my wild hair if only to make me more acceptable to the genearl populus. I played oragnized sports. I went to vacation bible school. It was a losing battle.While my classmates were writing their history profiles about Michael Jordan and Abraham Lincoln, I wrote mine about Anna Pavlova, the great Russian ballerina. While all the other kids played at recess, I sketched my fashion line for the fall.

I am not normal, even now...even after therapy, small town high school, being judged. I am just me. I make up my own words. I love quirky little houses regardless if the roof is caving in. I dress like I just left ballet class or like a boy. I write for a living (in the fashion industry oddly enough). My mother still tells me I'm weird every single time she talks to me. I've learned to take it as a compliment.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and the ability to express that opinion. You can't force people into boxes with definitions that you are comfortable with. Your freak can't be covered by religion, cool clothes or stupidity.

When you you jump to label others, is it because you really are trying to find a label for yourself?

First loves...and life lessons...

Gabriel Andrew Garcia...my first love...my disaster...another lifetime...

We met at school. I was the nerdy/jock girl who was a little off for the small town on Freer. He was the flunkie drug addict in a postal worker's shirt. In short, it was love at first sight.

Small town boys just never did it for me...and he was the antithesis of normal and safe. He was bounced around between his two parents. He had flunked a few grades. He dressed really strangley. He was openly bi-sexual. He played guitar badly. He had a nasty coke problem. He was really pretty.

I had a big crush on him early on. The first time he called my house was by accident. My number showed up on his caller ID at home (pre-cell phone days, ya'll), and he just naturally assumed it was me calling him. It turned out that his father worked under mine at Conoco, and my dad had called to speak to his dad. Many jokes centered around doing the boss's daughter ensued shortly there after...

Then, we became "we"...

He wrote me these really great love notes that were cheesy and eloquent. We talked about poetry, literature, and Shrek. We danced in the hall way during lunch. He stopped using drugs and smoking (as much). I made him go to youth group at my church (even though he wore a nin shirt w/the word "fuck" on the back). I snuck him into my house during lunch when my mom was out of town. We had a joint birthday at my house during finals week complete with homemade birthday cake and carryout pizza.

Then, a few days after my birthday, he told me his dad was kicking him out, and that he had to move back to Houston to live w/his mother. His step mom was having extreme anxiety due to the stress he brought to the household. So he was out...just like that...and I was all alone again.

We had a goodbye day where we took pictures, held hands, kissed, and maybe cried a little. We started a joint art project involving select Prisma colors and many tiny shapes (a few hearts and secret messages thrown in just for fun). We agreed to talk on the phone, write, e-mail...and stay in touch...we both hoped it wasn't over.

Then, I left to go to Oklahoma for the Christmas holidays. I came back to panicked voicemails from mutual friends and a few of his family members. He had been jumped at a party for an outstanding debt to a local drug dealer (probably the mayor...Freer is so classy), and he had his face bashed in and only made it without any serious damage because his friend held his bleeding, mutilated face over the toilet...so he wouldn't choke on his own blood. There were many stitches and he had his jaw wired shut for some time.

So, with the option of phone out, we did a whole lot of e-mailing and chatting...we would even log onto pogo at the same time and play games for hours...

Finally, he came into town again. Just a few days after Valentine's Day and on the day of my first track meet of the season. It was a great day. I ran well. He spent the whole day w/me...just catching up. I finally was able to return our half-finished drawing. That evening, he told me he loved me for the very first time. It wasn't the first time a boy said those words to me, but it was the first time that I meant it when I said them back to him. It was magical. And, even though my mother hated him, she let him come over and hang out the next afternoon before he had to leave...small joys...

It was around this time that he started sending me photos, letters, sometimes our drawing (we started mailing it back and forth) and his fave Stephen King series, The Dark Tower via snail mail. I came home from practice and sometimes there was a manila envelope on my bed...and I felt like it was Christmas and my birthday all on the same day.

But..we gradually grew apart...like young kids do when there are miles between them. It was hard knowing that it would be many years before I would encounter one of his breed again, but I couldn't wait around for something that would never happen.

We saw each other one final time right around Easter 2002. It was lovely. We still felt the same way about one another, but we knew that it just couldn't work. A calamity of events were sparked from this very meeting, but I will not go into them. This story is about our love, not demise...and besides I'm saving all the good stuff for my future memoir anyway.

Gabe and the situations that he brought into my life revealed to me the true form of many people who were very close to me. He defied my stereotypes of the kind of people who hung out in the restroom during lunch hour...and the type of boy that I was attracted to. Since him, there have been many musicians (both bad and good). There has been the occasional drug user. There have been a few well-dressed weirdos. But, most importantly, I have never settled on what was available. I've always waited from something extraordinary...because once you've had a taste of greatness, normal is never the same.

Gabe and I haven't talked nor seen one another since that last meeting. I've actually been face to face w/him (at my last volleyball game) and just didn't see him (divine intervention...my momma's been praying). I received a few strange and vague myspace messages about a year ago. I think it was just him letting me know that he was still alive, and I had been special to him, as well.

First loves are a sticky thing...you love so openly and blindly that when you get burned by them (because you eventually will) you lose that ability forever. The memory, however, stays w/you always...

Smell This

There’s an older gentleman I work with whose smell is so attractive. It's not a cologney/Old Spice kind of smell. It's not the smell of my father, an old boyfriend, or something Freuduristic. It's pheromones...his natural scent is deceptively young...and very attractive. Basically, I want to screw the 50 year old electrician of my building..or my brain does anyways.

This happens to me very often. Certain fragrances remind me of certain things. Brain and nose collaborate and logic fades away. Cool Waters equals Gabe which equals total abandonment of belief system and my entire future. Cigarettes equals Andy's which means I'm wasted and making Kim miserable. And Bath and Body Works Country Apple? I can't stomach. Why? It reminds me of losing the 7th grade basketball championship to Benavides!

Am I alone in this? Can you attach feelings/places/faces to scents?

Confession: I secretly love the scent of my dog. I think it's because she's my soul mate...her and the electrician.

Maybe you hold the answer...

I am an observer of the human species. A temperamental, subtle, expressive creature, the human is the most dangerous and elusive animal on this planet. Still, I persist.

Throughout this weekend, I've made it a point to observe humans, specifically females, in a social setting. Despite my genitals, females are an interesting and completely foreign creature to me. I don't understand the concept of "fitting in" and "queen bee." I've made it my life goal to never fit in. So, to see smart, young, beautiful women compete to be the wildest, most salacious, and drunkest is amazing to me. At first, I thought that this activity was a show for the gentlemen in the crowd. But these girls weren't even looking at the boys. Watch their eyes! It's a show for one another. Oh, you're taking pictures without me? Well, I'm going to grind against this girl. I win! What drives the female to act this way? Is it prehistoric desire to be the head of the tribe to get the best food and living quarters? Is it Darwinism as the species evolves (I have eyes on either side of my head, therefore I won't get eaten as quickly)? Is it just high school norms continuing into adult hood?

I'm at a lost. This just might be insecurities that some have to work out in early adulthood where the beer is freely flowing and the responsibilities are nil. I hope that this is the case. Reporting from the field, Jennifer.

Her and Her sunglasses

I had a meeting w/the Hair God on Saturday. I call him this, because not only is he a great stylist…but he is gorgeous. I don’t mean pretty-boy gorgeous, either. He is tall, bald, tattooed, and hot! Which is awesome, because I do have to stare at his face for two hours while he cuts my mop. This, however, is not about Hair God.

Hair God recently changed salons, and he now works in the Highland Village (ie snotty whore) area of Dallas. I am not against the wealthy. Hell, hopefully I’ll join their ranks one sweet day. However, I am very much against the attitude of entitlement. Look, sweetie (finger snapping and head swing included), having a bank account w/a few more zeros at the end does not make you a better person. So, Jess and I (because it was lady’s day filled w/shopping, lunch, and Hair God gazing) journey to Highland Village where my 2003 Honda Accord looks like the rusty junker a child molester might drive. The salon is very nice and divided into these tiny rooms that make the hair styling experience seem intimate and personal. However, this tight space also allows conversation to drift from one stylist’s station to another.

So, Hair God and I are settling into our comfortable witty banter about Denton, relationships, work, and whiskey (if you need a visual, I keep trying to look at him and he keeps having to re-adjust the position of my head) when I first realize that she is sitting next to me. She is dressed in a summer dress, minus a bra (who needs a bra when you’re so thin that your sternum sticks out through your clothes), carrying a big, metallic bag, gossiping to her stylist about how people (in the same room as she is) are dressed…other stylist..blah blah…She was about half way through her haircut when I sat down. So, as she is finishing up, I’m half way through mine. She gets up to leave, dusting off imaginary blonde wisps, secretly scanning the room to notice those noticing her. As she exits stage left, Hair God rolls his eyes.

Five minutes later she reappears. The world has ended. She has lost her sunglasses! Better yet, she has lost her $350 sun glasses. Oh, it just keeps getting better...someone has now stolen her $350 sunglasses. She starts asking all the stylist who are busy at work, if they have seen her sunglasses. The lovely Hair God says "No, I haven't. I'm working, not watching your sun glasses." God, he somehow got hotter in the past 5 seconds. Now, she's over by Jess loudly proclaiming "I left them right here." Jess is doing her best to ignore her, head buried in an old W. Then, she starts lifting up the seat cushions where Jess (all 6 feet of her) is sitting. Jess stands (still buried in W) while this extremely rude person moves our purses off the bench and searches for $350 sunglasses where my friend's ass had been 5 seconds ago. She finally gives up the search but not before bitching to the manager as well as an innocent by stander.

Hair God and I share a laugh over her ridiculous antics (I mean, really, no one stole your sun glasses, you pretentious bitch...you lost them..it's ok...I do it all the time). I finish up my haircut, give the Hair God a hug and a parting sass, pay my tab, and head for the door. The Texas sun is out in full force, so I reach into my bag.

But someone else's sunglasses had taken up resident there. Her's! I guess they fell into my open purse amiss all the seat cushion lifting and such..I quickly turn and head back into the salon before her glass's GPS had the chance to track my movement (by the way, the glasses...not so cute...they look like hollister's w/thicker plastic frames). The owner was still at the counter, so I hand him the glasses while clarifying I DID NOT steal them. He gets very excited and says "She will be very happy that you found them." and I say "Have a great day."

But what I really want to say is this: "Tell her that if she wants to own $350 glasses, keep up w/them. Tell her that hollister makes a $15 pair that looks just the same. But, most importantly, tell her pricey sunglasses, hair cut, car, house, etc. do not mean shit...and, just because she has these things, she is not better than me or Jess or Hair God or anyone. So treat everyone the same regardless of their address...or next time I'll back over your fucking sunglasses with my junker and not give it a second thought..."

Meeting the love of my life..

At the time, I was involved with another man. I had also lost another soul very dear to me earlier that year, and I was a little depressed. He tried to cheer me up, but something was missing. So, one afternoon, after having lunch w/his grandparents, he took me to the place where I met my love.

She was near the back of the room. She looked at me passively, uninterested, while all those around her begged for attention, a smile, a look in their direction. She already knew I was there just for her. Her big brown eyes met mine...it was love at first sight.

This is how I met Brie. I filled out all her paperwork, then I picked her up from the humane society a few days later. She had just gotten neutered, so she was a little shaky and disorientated. She barfed three times in my car on the way home. To this day, there is still barf residue on her paperwork (always a fun story for the vets). Also, she was very timid for the first couple of months she lived w/me.

Now, Princess Brie Brie is a force to be reckoned with and a celebrity of her own making. She is one of the funniest people I know, and she has never spoken a word. She makes my day a little brighter every time I see her big pointy ears.

If you have never adopted an animal, I highly recommend it. You'll be saving a life, and, who knows? You might just meet the love of your life.

Britney's Meltdown at the VMAs

Disclaimer: I love celebrity gossip. I know it's dumb. I know it's beneath me. I know that reading all the gossip rags only fuels the fire and leads to more star meltdowns, breakups, and shopping trips to Rodeo. Nevertheless , I'm a frequent visitor of both perezhilton.com, eonline.com, and people.com (they have the nastiest tidbits and the pictures to go with).

So, my fave story today. The Britney meltdown. Poor Brit Brit couldn't hold it together for one song during the VMAs. I saw the performance this morning from work on my tiny monitor w/no sound...and I bet it still sucked in Hi-Def w/a 32' screen.

There were her moves...or lack there of rather. She seemed to be pacing and flailing her arms in a way that might suggest thought of dancing but never the action itself. She even seemed to trip a few times. Her poor backup dancers, however, were working hard just to keep her afloat..which they couldn't.

There was her costume. Who drinks as much as the tabs say she does(not to mention those pics from late night Mc D's trips) and then feels comfortable throwing on a bedazzled bikini to wear in front of millions? Someone who is delusional and should not raise children.

There was her supposed meltdown after running off stage. I would run and cry too if I had bombed like that.

Did I mention that I've never even heard the song?

Maybe Brit should have been logging some hours in the gym and in rehearsal instead of partying it up all week. Brit, you aren't Paris Hilton. You're famous for something. What was it,again?

Popped Collars and CDB

Here's a recap of my Friday night:

Since Owen was studying for the GRE (because what is a drummer suppose to do when his band breaks up? Oh, I know. Go to grad school to get a PhD in Chemistry!), the ladies and I decided to get together for a rousing game of "Dupe the Dumb Frat Guys in to Buying Us Drinks". Now, the rules of this game are simple. You dress really slutty, come up w/an awesome back story for the each participant (usually involving stripping or homosexual/bi-sexual tendencies), and pretend to be interested while extremely tan young men w/popped collars buy you drinks. Like taking candy from babies... However, last night it was more like taking candy from an extremely hungry 300 lbs. man. So, after multiple looks and a few snippets of conversation w/the occasional collar, Jess and Kendell called it and went on home.

Never ones to go home early on a Friday, Other Jenn and I met up w/Chloe and moved the party on down to Andy's, the place where everyone knows your name AND who you went home w/last night. I accidentally ordered two double beam and cokes (note to self: never try to order w/hand signals regardless of how loud it is in the bar). Then, of course I had to drink them...which I did. Conversations get fuzzy and I literally got shoved out of the bar (Thanks, Jared!) at 2:00 AM.

Side Note Time: OJ's boyfriend is the lead singer of the Feds, another Dallas/Denton band. The Feds are having drama (yes, like the "In" group of girls in high school that you hated, bands fight amongst them self, force others to join sides and then end up making up at the slumber party where they do each other's hair and nails) w/another band that I will refer to is Crappy Douchebag Band because not only does their music suck, but yes, Virginia, they suck as people! The story goes that the Feds stiffed them at a show where they just barely made the bill. La la..don't expect to make money opening at a bar in Dallas..don't expect to make money from playing in a band, period!

Back to last night, as we were leaving Andy's, OJ decides we are going back to Crappy Douchebag Band's house. So, she grabs a Band member and we start walking to my car. Along the way, we acquired a lost puppy/weirdo who wants to go w/us, even though he doesn't know where we are going or who we are. Somehow, we convince te lost puppy/weirdo to follow us tho the party...and we drop him at his car. Then, we speed off and drive sporadically through Denton trying to lose this guy. We finally arrive at CDB's house at 215-ish.

OJ and I grab a seat on their porch swing and as soon as our ass hits the seat, they start in. They talked shit about The Feds. They talked shit about Matt, OJ's bf. They talked shit about the show. They talked shit about Denton. They just talk shit for about 30-45 mins. I have never met a group of people so united in ignoring social graces and politeness for ego-stroking. How dare you, you prissy, worthless excuse for a musician and a human, talk shit about my friend's boyfriend when she's sitting right there? Are you fucking serious? You're an idiot. You aren't entitled to anything, and no one fucking cares if you're alive much less if you're in a band...

So, mid-rant, I jumped up and said I was out. I murmured something about Owen and GRE and early morning (which they scoffed at..how dare he "sell out" and further his education) and ran/walked to my car.

Then, I came home, crawled in my warm bed next to my man and our child, and thanked God for Owen and his kind heart. Every once in awhile, I have to have a reminder of why I love him so much.

Sometimes, your night ends up not at all how you expect it. I thought I was going to dupe dumb guys into buying me drinks, but I ended up paying for every bottle that touched my lips. I thought I was going to get away from the house for a few hours and spend time w/my girls, but by the end of the evening all I wanted to do was cuddle up next to my boyfriend in our tiny apartment. Sometimes, your night ends up exactly how you needed it to be.

Me and mine

I need to do this. I need to write to get stuff out of my head. I need to advance my writing career out of the technical writing field. Yes, because it's dull and unsatisfying. Like sex w/an ex, tech writing has become so predictable (man, I've seen that move..oh and that one, too) and so mundane I fight to stay awake I only thought it was a great application of my English/writing skills..

Just the facts: I'm a 22 year old girl who lives in a tiny house in Denton, Texas. My boyfriend will be officially moving in to these cramp quarters in a month. I have a Boston Terrier mutt named Brie who is a lap slut and an attention whore. My boyfriend, Owen, was the drummer in a band, Upside (now DOA). I've managed to collect a few lady friends throughout my time in Denton, and they are all unique, intelligent, and F-U-N. I can't cook, but I love eating. Clean Day Saturday is a holiday I celebrate every Saturday morning (kind of like the Holy Sabbath for you church-going people). I have 12 shelves in my bathroom. Each of which has about 3 different kinds of bath product on it. I prefer whiskey shots to all other forms of drinking. Hi, I'm Jennifer.