Open letter to the moron in Vons.

Dear Musclehead:

I am sorry if my purchases offended you. Yes, I eat ground turkey, smoked sausage, and low carb ice cream. And I'm not dead yet- sorry.

I can assume from your cart that you are really, really, really INTO bananas. I am sure that you can gather from my cart that I am on Atkins. Although, since you couldn't remember your own phone number, I may be giving you much more credit for brainpower than you deserve.

I especially like how you got all pissed off when you forgot your Vons card and had a hissy fit until the checkout guy reminded you that the only thing you're buying is bananas, and they're not on special, anyway. Mad props to you!

I don't know if you're a. a vegan, or b. just generally a hemmorhoid on a monkey's butt. I'd bet money on the latter. But from the look of disgust on your face as you gazed FIXEDLY from my purchases, back to me, to my husband, and back to my purchases again, I think you must not be entirely devoid of brain cells. Because we're both a hell of a lot bigger than you. Which is probably why you elected not to spew the lecture that was visibly brewing in your pointy little head.

By the way, the ratty gray cut-off sweats layered over the sassy red bike pants? And the all-pervading reek of testosterone? Nice.

In any case, we do eat produce, but I don't buy it from Vons. I buy organic. Asshole.

Have fun with those bananas! I hope they're infested with tarantulas.

Jenna

Yes!

I got the job. I am so excited!!!! My orientation starts over the weekend.

I don't want to state the name of the company. (While I love Google, I like keeping this thang relatively anonymous). I wish I could share my new title, because it's hilarious, but that would totally give it away.

I can tell you that while it is part-time, I will be making DOUBLE per hour what I was making at my old workplace. I will be working with kids (twelve and under)in classrooms and in after-school programs. I get to be someone who introduces new stuff to kids in a fun and creative way. And? I think I get to wear jeans. JEANS!!!

The gentleman I interviewed with was so very nice. He was wearing an excellent tie. He did not shake hands like Godzilla. And he evidently didn't notice the massive bruise on my forehead.

He did seem slightly uncomfortable with me, either in a "I think you're cute, but we're both very happily married" way, or in a "please don't stomp on me with your big scary boots" way. There was some nervous giggling, so it's hard to tell.

But you know what? I don't care- I am BEYOND thrilled!!!

To top it off, the temp agency finally called almost as soon as I walked through the door- so I just told them where they could stick it. HA!

Hit me baby, one more time!

Whoops.

This is what happens when you and your beloved husband are shoveling dirt at the same time. Yes, I am OK. I just look stupid, and will have the Ginormous Forehead Bruise tomorrow.

(For the record, he feels really, really REALLY bad about this, and it was totally not intentional- but I am still planning to milk it for all it's worth.)

Seriously- every time he complains about anything, all I will have to say is, "Remember that time you hit me in the FACE? With a SHOVEL?!! Two hours before I had to go to a JOB INTERVIEW?!!!!!"

Yeah. I'm thinking I can use this for the next couple of decades.

Pass the cover up!

Oh- and the whole shoveling incident? Is our quest to turn THIS:



Into THIS:



You can see the whole photo set right about HERE.
We're still not even close to done. Although I suspect that I have gotten out of shoveling, at least for the time being.

A phone call from the Great Unknown...

Who knew the voice of the Great Unknown would be so, um.....chirpy?

During the veeeery beginning of my job search (we're talking months ago, actually literally last year, here) I found a listing that looked- well, too good to be true. One of those things where you say, "It sounds so fun- it's probably going to be some scam where I show up and they try to get me to go door to door selling generic perfume."

The description was intriguing though, and I sent an email request to get more info. I got an upbeat e-mail, and a few phone calls, and while the opportunity sounded like a hell of a lot of fun... I had convinced myself that this was not the full-time gig with benefits that I was looking for. As cool as it sounded. So I dismissed them politely.

This morning, The Man and I were in that "what happens now" discussion. The fact that I have to do something, because the size of our credit card bill has become alarming. The temp agency, who can't even BE BOTHERED TO CALL ME BACK about the results of that interview, or to send me out on any new ones, is obviously not working for me. I haven't found anything fantastic whilst browsing the unemployment ads, although I have circled a few, and thus, we get to the point-

I don't really want what I thought I wanted, which is the full-time job with benefits. I want to have the time to work on my writing, which I have been psyching myself out about (the topic of the cosmic kick in the ass I got from my friend last drunken Friday night.) And well, we don't really need me to be in a misery-laden but salaried office position to be comfortable, we just need a little bit extra to fill in the chinks here and there.

I think I actually said, "Damn it, I am sick of this. I just want to take some random part-time job working retail or at a pizza parlor (even though in retrospect, I know what that will do towards my already somewhat jaded view of humanity, not that working in an office would presumably help either.)

And then, the phone rang. I am not kidding.

The Great Unknown called both my cell and at home, and essentially said, "You know, we're looking for someone to fill one spot on Wednesdays- and we keep coming back to your info."

Who am I to disregard the voice of the universe?

I have an appointment with "Matt" this afternoon. Here's hoping he doesn't shake hands like a rabid grizzly bear.

Snap out of it!!

So...

I just got a huge ultra-reality bitch-slap from one of my best friends. It basically took both of us getting wasted for this to happen.

I am so thankful she did it. Because damn, I needed that.

The weirdest part? I think she was afraid that I would be mad at her if she said anything. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I feel so blessed and lucky to have friends who believe in me and encourage me as much as mine do. I guess the next step (the one I have the most trouble with) is believing in myself.

Here goes...

No news is good news?

I don't think so.

Got a call from the agency yesterday, saying that they still have not heard back from the company that interviewed me. Twice. But that they had said that both interviews went really well! Reading between the lines, I am sure that they're not going to send me on any more interviews until they hear for sure, which kind of pisses me off. Since I've been sitting here waiting around for most of the month.

I have decided to start looking on my own. I actually sent a note to my former boss, asking that he give me a heads-up if there's an opening within my old department. I am not sure if he got it, however. And I don't want to send it twice!

So between that and combing the want ads- I am keeping pretty darn busy.

Paris, revisited

So guys, if you want to see more pictures of Paris, I just threw most of the rest up on flickr (careful, they're all higgledy piggledy!)

You can see them here.

Enjoy! (Yes, Neighbor, the Disneyland Paris pics are now uploaded!)

The only pics I haven't uploaded yet include a lot of interior shots of Versailles- those French are picky about flash photography, and a lot of the photos need to be edited, because they turned out pretty dark.

Pardon me, I seem to have melted my spine.

I went to the yoga center last night with Secret Squirrel- just for a regular class.

I have never taken a yoga class before. I am a yoga ignoramus, and thus far, I have been happy that way.

I was actually so freaked out by it- I was seriously expecting a whole class of 20 year old washboard abs type people in coordinated outfits, who could wrap their legs behind their heads and possibly levitate on command. While I strained pathetically to touch my toes.

Me: Please tell me I won't have to do a handstand.

Squirrel: You won't have to do a handstand. It's a beginner class.

Me: Okay. I but I bet they're going to adjust my form constantly. I probably manage to stand in some way that throws my chakras out of alignment.

Squirrel: You'll be fine.

Me: I don't know if I can handle an activity that forces me to be barefoot.

Squirrel: Now you're just being ridiculous.

Me: What exactly is the chi? And how do I know it is flowing?

Squirrel: OK, shut up.

So we sign up, I took off my shoes and stash them (ACK!) and we go unroll our mats and hide in the back corner of the room.

Instructor: Ok, I think we are going to try a handstand first thing today!

Me: I hate you. I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns.

Squirrel: He's joking. He's just kidding.

Instructor: (contorting into several humanly impossible poses) Ok, you can try it this way.....or this way!

Me: I don't think he's kidding.

Instructor: Come on guys! Let's go!

Me: $%#@!

Aside from being terrified right off the bat, it was actually cool. There were women in the class who were bigger than I am, and the female instructor is very warm in person and also, very "natural" looking. All different levels were in the class, and to be honest.....

I always thought yoga was a bunch of patchouli-scented hocus-pocus. The class was a little out-there for me (lots of breathy instruction while your eyes are closed, and focusing on your breathing). I also felt like, while some poses required quite a bit of effort, I am very used to traditional aerobic exercise, and I was feeling like the whole experience was kind of pointless.

That is, until this morning. I slept like the dead last night, and woke up feeling FANTASTIC. I was completely relaxed. Which never happens for me. Then I stretched, and felt even better. It was insane.

So- I am going back!
Crap- I guess I am going to have to buy some "yoga pants." Whatever the hell those are.

SNAKES....on a PLANE!!!!

hahahahahaaaaa.....


I can't believe this is a real movie. I laugh every time I hear it.

P.S. No job news yet. Not a good sign. :(

"Throttling"- typically, something you want to do to someone you're frustrated with.

So- remember my previous rant about Netflix?

I guess it wasn't just all in my head. A ton of articles have been coming out recently about how they limit people who meet the profile of "heavy renters."

Isn't the whole friggin' point of the service the "unlimited rentals" that we were supposedly going to be getting? Or am I craaaaaaaaazy?

I thrill when I drill a bicuspid!

So. Dental news, but nothing on the job front yet.

First of all, my dentist is awesome. He's one of my Armenian peeps, he seens to find my macabre sense of humor endearing, and he is a patient individual.

Which is why, when I showed up in his office and told him that my teeth hurt, and he did x-rays and scraped around with the little scratchy thing, and I got so used to biting down on different objects that I accidentally bit him on the finger TWICE (poor man)and he STILL didn't find anything- he was at least nice about it, and didn't accuse me of being out of my mind.

The culprit was eventually determined to be one very sensitive upper tooth with thin enamel from grinding against the lower tooth directly beneath, whch had tons of enamel. Complicated by the fact that I seem to have a very slight crossbite. Thanks, ruthless orthodontist!

So- the drill came out. Anyone else agree that the sound of the dentist drill is the worst sound in the whole world? It's like the noise a 300 lb. mosquito would make. AAAAaaaaAAAAaaaaaaaa! Find a happy place, find a happy place!!!

So- the lower tooth was given a little trim, and almost immediately, everything else was fine. Easy peasy.

Then last night, wet to SN'B (haven't been in three weeks, mostly due to my unholy Project Runway addiction.) It was so good to see eveyone, plus some new faces (Rhiannon and Jessica, or any other Fresno knitters- if you're reading, you should come on out! Piazza Del Pane, every Wednesday at 7PM.) We had a blast, and I drank coffee mindlessly, which is probably why I was up til' 4AM.

Then we watched Project Runway and the Olympics. I cannot wait to see the PR finale next week, because I am a huge dork. At least I knitted the whole time- I am very nearly done with my Recycled Silk Bag, Mark II.

OH!! Just got a call from the temp agency- they have two ore interviews, so I should have the 411 on the job by this evening. Please, send good karma my way! (I'll even shake hands with that guy again.)

Round 2

Ok- I made it to my second interview.

I am a little freaked out, but that's OK. I have come to the conclusion that I interview better with women than with men.

Do I need to tell you that I interviewed with two men? Both of whom started out being dryer than toast? And my original interviewer was nowhere to be seen? Although I was reassurred that I would be working for directly for her, if I get this job.

And hopefully if they do hire me, I won't have to shake this one guy's hand anymore. Because, DAMN. I have a pretty firm grip for a woman, but his handshake is like being seized and beaten against a tree by a rabid grizzly bear. He also looks like the guy from L.A. Confidential. No, not Russell Crowe- Guy Pearce:

I still do want the job, by the way. But I know they are interviewing other people, and I am beginning to freak out.

In other news, I have to go to the dentist today to check out this mysterious heat sensitivity on the right side of my mouth. I have a sneaking suspicion that I have either fractured some enamel somewhere, or that I am harboring a big ass cavity. No conversation hearts for me! (Please God, don't let me need a root canal....)

I am such a little ray of sunshine today.

Jenna's Velociraptor Theory

OK, here goes-

I have this theory that men are like velociraptors.

The men I have relayed it to seem to enjoy the vision of themselves as sharp-toothed predators running amok, and the women I have told seem to relate to it, as long as they've seen Jurassic Park (Who hasn't?)

Men are like velociraptors.

If you do happen to entrap one, they do OK in captivity, but they will always feel the need to check the fences. These fences, it goes without saying, need to be in place before the velociraptor is lured into the corral. Otherwise, he will just snarl at you and charge back out again, and you'll look and feel kind of stupid.

Anyway. The nasty shocks from the electrification tend to keep them in check, but one day they might get bored and charge the fence, just for kicks. Alas! There was a power surge or something, and your velociraptor is now running unchecked through the underbrush.

Eventually, your velociraptor may get tired of rampaging, and start to feel a little tired and hungry. (Or he'll get old and skanky and not be able to catch prey anymore, and die a horrible lonely death.)

In the event that he cannot figure out how to open doors and devour succulent small children who are hiding in the kitchen, he may decide that he was probably better off in the corral. Admittedly, he had less room to run around, but got provided with tasty goat tartar, not to mention protection from larger predators like the T-Rex or global warming.

When and if the velociraptor comes back, you must be prepared. You can take him back in, as long as you reinforce the barricades. If you have already entrapped a new velociraptor, you can either shoo him away or immobilize him with your handy tranquilizer gun and see who comes first- T-Rex, or those icky frilled lizard looking thingies. Presumably, this will both relieve your feelings and serve as a powerful visual to your new captive.

If you do welcome him back into the fold, fence-testing is just a regular part of his life, and makes him feel like he is still a powerful reptilian entity.

The Man: "What if the velociraptor learns to jump?"

Me: "You're seriously better off without him."

The Universe Responds....

YES!!!!!!

I have a second interview.

Or, as it was phrased to me, I am scheduled to "Meet the owners of the company, and go on a tour of their facility." GULP. But I feel like I must be a front-runner, since the slot for my interview is first thing in the morning, and I got the call after she'd finished interviewing for the day today.

I am really excited. I had a great time talking to my interviewer, and the concept of working for a woman who has a cute hairstyle and is neither incompetent OR a misogynist (no, not a typo!) seems very refreshing to me.

Of course, my second interview may be a result of us discussing the various home improvement projects we had undertaken, and me giving her some helpful tips about circa 1970's wallpaper removal. I may have said something like, "Hey, if you hire me, I'll let you borrow my wallpaper steamer!"

OK, I actually did say that. See?!! Bribery works!!!!

In the meantime, I need to find some business-like clothing and try to refrain from exhibiting any symptoms of Tourette's Syndrome.

So whatever you guys are doing at 8AM next Tuesday (Valentine's Day!)please send some positive thoughts my way!

Maybe I can be a research assistant?

According to an informal poll, parrots who live in my house prefer Madonna songs over Bruce Springsteen songs by nearly 80%.*

However, Gwen Stephani still leads Madonna by a narrow margin.

*This data was determined by the general number of "woo hooooooooooooooooos!" uttered during each song.

Stuff we do when nobody's looking. (Whipped cream, part 2)

No, it's not dirty. Freaks.

I hear the telltale noise of the whipped cream cannister, and come into the kitchen to investigate. I catch The Man standing in front of the fridge, dispensing directly into his mouth.

Me: "HEY!"

TM: (evil grin) "Nyoo wan some?"

Me: "Uh...yes."

Do I need to tell you guys that this promptly evolved into a whipped cream fight? And that I won?

Granted, I used unsportsmanlike tactics (blinding with dairy dessert products). But hey, I still won!

Damn, no wonder we are always running out of that stuff.

The moral of the story- read the manual?

So The Man and I are low-carbing it, at least for awhile (I think I have covered this!)

Anyway. For our wedding, we got some gifts from a far-flung relative of mine- An elaborate wine corkscrew, and some contraption which you can use to make your own whipped cream. It just takes a few shakes and a little help from a teeny cannister of nitrous oxide.

Ok. The Man tends to drink beer, and I drink martinis, but we have a glass of wine every once in awhile,so we knew we'd use the wine opener. But the whipped cream dispenser seemed to be a little bit of an anomaly. Not to mention, it was from Sur La Table, which doesn't have a location near Fresno, and it just seemed like a lot of bother to return it.... So, yeah. We summarily banished it to the back of a dark cabinet and promptly forgot all about it.

Until about Day 3 of Atkins (so, about 4 years later), when I was getting sick and tired of beating the hell out of whipped cream every night and then having to wash a bowl AND the little beater things so we could have some with our sugar-free Jell-O for dessert.

Somehow, I remembered the whipped cream dispenser and thought, "What the hell!" I rescued it from its dusty cupboard, and I whipped up a Splenda Sweetened batch, and it was everything that whipped cream should be.

Needless to say, we have been going through whipped cream like there's no tomorrow. To the point where I have had to ration it, because those little cannisters of nitrous have to be special-ordered online, and heavy cream gets expensive when you have to buy, say, 4 containers of it a week.

Somehow, we needed a new batch the other night, and The Man volunteered to try this contraption out for the first time ever. Which basically means that I stayed in the living room watching Project Runway, and he yelled to me from the kitchen when he needed moral support.

TM: "Ok- how much cream do I put in?!!"
Me: "Half the little carton!!!!"
TM: "How much Splenda??!!!!"
Me: "Five Packets!!!!!"
TM: "OK!!!! I am screwing the lid on!!!!"
Me: "OKAY!!!!"
(Long pause)
TM: "Now what?!!!"
Me: "Do you want ME to come do this?!!!"
TM: "I'M doing it!!!!!!!"
Me: (sighing)"Ok! Swirl the container to mix. Put the little nitrous cartridge into the chamber, then twist it to charge the cannister!!!!!"
TM: "OK, now what?!!"
Me: "Shake the cannister 4-5 times, then you should be ready to go!!!"

I hear the sound of shaking, a really loud POOF! noise, and then-

TM: "OH SH*T!!!!!"

Knowing that this is never a good sign, I come running into the kitchen. There is whipped cream splattered- all over the floor, all over the cabinets, all over the kitchen windows, and all over my husband's hair, face, glasses, and shirt (even the back- I am not sure how he managed THAT!)

We both start laughing hysterically. The cat decided that we are both incapacitated, and possibly insane, so he sensibly starts slurping up the cream on the floor like all his Christmases have come at once.

Me:(gasping for air)"You are SO cleaning this up!"