Tag Archives: humor

Are You a What Iffer? | Jenny from the Blog

Written By: Jenny From the Blog for HybridMom.com


Mark Twain once said, “I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.” This week, Jenny from the Blog asks, “How many incidents do we fear as mothers?” “How much stress do we expend fearing them” and “Why is it so easy to be a What-iffer?”

Excerpt “…But, my mind was quick to figure out the real danger.  Nope, this was not a police issue and frankly those petty slap on the wrist repercussions didn’t concern me; this was an act of terrorists or at the very least the owners of the mall were going to blow up the parking lot in order to put up a Neiman Marcus.”

To read the full insanity of this piece and see if you know the feeling: CONTINUE READING

Is Bigger Always Better? | Jenny from the Blog

In case you haven’t heard, Starbucks will now Super-Size your iced Venti 2 pump, 4 sugar, super skinny, double wide, whip it good, mocha-chaita-cino-o (or whatever you order) for 50 cents extra.  Yep, the voluminous Venti has officially been dwarfed by the trendy Trenta.  Why?  Because everyone needs a coffee that’s larger than their stomach capacity– duh? Oh, I kid you not, the 31oz Trenta is actually 16ml more than the average stomach size.  It can hold an entire bottle of wine – with room to spare.  The Trenta is the Dirk Diggler of drinks, the Dolly Parton of pick me ups.  Seriously America, why are we so obsessed with all things larger than life, and larger than necessary?

The sign at my Starbucks counter reads “Bigger is Better,” but is it?  Is it ALWAYS better? A 24 oz Venti Caramel Macchiato is 300cal, 39g of sugar, and 150mg of caffeine.  Therefore, a Trenta version could be as much as 5000 cal, 300g of sugar and 2 billion grams of caffeine or something like that…math isn’t my strong suit.  Unless you’re a trucker who’s being held at gunpoint while hauling a shipment cross-country, I can’t imagine the need for such a beverage.  Of course, you’d also have to be a trucker with an enormous stomach, as your belly would otherwise fill to capacity before you finished your drink.   That last sentence was just silly, as truckers are rarely known for their svelte bodies.  Oh gosh, now I’ve offended all truckers reading this article. But, I digress.

It seems as if nothing is ever enough for us Americans.  So, what’s next?  Men trying to enlarge their penises?  No, wait, my inbox is already swollen with ads for that procedure.  Will fast food joints make a burger so big, that they’ll need to give a defibrillator as the toy surprise?  Nope, we’ve done that too.  The Triple Whopper with Cheese has an eye-popping 1230 cal and 82 grams of fat!  Somehow I think “Triple Bypass with Cheese” would be a more fitting moniker.  Even J Lo’s derriere has been super-sized; you’ll find it on Kim Kardashian.

It’s pretty clear our desire for excess is boundless, so who can blame Starbucks for cashing in on this universal infatuation?  I asked a patron with a Trenta why he bought his quart sized coffee.  His response, “I’m thirsty.”  Well, there you have it, thirsty people everywhere will be ordering this larger than life, yet miraculously still able to fit in a cup holder, beverage.  Pretty soon we’ll simply order a troth of coffee, and of course, they’ll call it a Trothe`.  That’s right – we’ll thumb our noses at obesity, diabetes, and high blood pressure.  No matter, we’ll be too hopped up on caffeine to give a damn.

This article was originally posted on my Seriously? column at Hybrid Mom

I’m Old Uncool and I’ll Never Get Over Macho Grande

airplane_shirleyI was at a hip trendy salon the other day to get my hair blown out before my Thirtyfive-ish birthday dinner.  While talking with the owner and the receptionist, I sarcastically mentioned that I had a plethora of something or other, and the owner Chris said, “Plethora is such a funny word; it always reminds me of…”

Cue me interrupting, as I knew where he was going; “’Three Amigos?’” I interjected, and before he could answer, I continued in my best dirty Mexican accent, “Would you say we have a plethora of piñatas?” “Oh, jes jes, El Guapo, we have a plethora of piñatas.”

Cue crickets.

You, the reader, may in fact have no clue of what I speak, though if you do… you’ll enjoy where this goes. You see, in the good ol’ days this was how “Generation X” conversed with, and sized one another up.  Like many a Gen X’er, quoting movies was my language and my way of knowing whether you were worth my time.  What once had the “Something about Mary” effect for me, now made me feel more like Magda.  You know, Mary’s old, haggard neighbor.  Ugh, the thought of being either of those adjectives gives me agita.  Great, now I’m using terms like agita.  My prophecy is self fulfilling!

Chris: “I’ve never seen ‘The Three Amigos.’ I was thinking it sounded British, like Monty Python and what’s that movie called?  Oh right, ‘The Holy Grail.’”

Wait, is this an opening?  Can I regain my cool here?  Sure I can.  This time in my best Cockney falsetto (cause that’s always cool) “Doctor, is it a boy or a girl?” and in a proper British accent I answered myself, “I think it’s a bit early to start imposing roles on it, don’t you?”

Cue the look of utter bewilderment on the face’s of both Chris and the cute little receptionist who should be in school.

Me:  “You know, ‘The Meaning of Life?’”

Chris:  “No sorry, I’ve only seen the ‘Holy Grail.’  Isn’t that what most people quote anyway?”

Me: “Yeah, probably but that’s so cliché. Quoting the ‘Grail’ is like playing ‘Stairway to Heaven’ on the guitar.”

Chris: “Right?” He said in an attempt to end this awkward conversation with the senile old lady.

But I wasn’t having it.  Nooo, I was determined to relate to him or make an ass of myself trying.  “The key is for the quotes to be a little obscure.  I mean, how else would you know you’re talking to someone on your level of humor and wit?”  I explained.

And then it dawned on me: Holy crap, I’m not only old; I’m the biggest geek EVER!

Before my brain was able to fully process this fact, I continued, queerly trying to relate to someone 15 years my junior.  Well, I know he likes ‘Linkin Park’ and metal bands, so maybe ‘Spinal Tap,’ the best rock mockumentary ever, could redeem me… it redeemed Lenny, you know, of Lenny and Squiggy?

Me:  “You probably love ‘Spinal Tap,’”

Chris:  “I don’t listen to them, but I really like Metallica” he replied, trying to relate by mentioning a group from my era.

What? You think ‘Spinal Tap’ is a band? In some kind of Tourette’s reaction, I began uncontrollably spitting out lines thinking something would surely ring a bell.  It had the same effect as someone talking louder to a person who doesn’t speak English.  “These go to 11.”  “It’s like, how much more black could this be? And the answer is none. None more black.” “You can’t dust for vomit.” NOTHING? “Come on…Caddy Shack, Fletch, Airplane, Hot Shots? Anyone, anything…Bueller?”

Chris: (Realizing this conversation would not end until we found common ground) “I liked ‘The Naked Gun.’”

YES, ha ha ha I’ve won!  I’ve broken through.

Me:  “Nice beaver.” “Thanks I just had it stuffed.” Oh, g-d I can’t stop.

Chris: “Yeah, don’t know that particular line.  I have ‘The Naked Gun 33 and a Third.’”

Seeing the defeat on my face, the receptionist awkwardly popped in for the first time, “I think I saw ‘Airplane’ once.”

Me:  “Surely you can’t be serious???”  That was just to make myself chuckle.  I wasn’t expecting the banterish response any Gen X’er, like me would give.

Receptionist:  “No really, but but, I uh, don’t remember if it was 1 or 2,” she answered, letting the perfect opportunity to play along pass her by.

I also noticed that she actually stuttered her words.  Oh crap, I’m scaring her.

Me:  “Nervous?” “First time?” “No, I’ve been nervous lots of times,” I blurted out.

I regained my composure long enough to continue, “Wellllll, was it 1 or 2, they’re totally different?  The original is like, a classic!”

Then I lost my composure and went on without breath “It’s like a big Tylenol with wings.”  “I can make a hat… a broach… a pterodactyl.”  “I take my coffee black, like my men.”  “Oh stewardess, I speak Jive” “That’s funny, he never asks for a second cup at home.”  “A hospital – what is it?”  “It’s a big building with patients, but that’s not important right now!”  “Have you ever been in a Turkish prison?” “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.”  As I was escorted from the salon/spa, whose atmosphere I had completely un-zenned, I did my best Ethel Merman until I passed out!

Yep, I’m an old geek who’s got no game… and I’ll never get over Macho Grande.

Spill, did you ever quote movies to seem cooler?  I won’t tell.  In fact, I may call you up.  Oh, and if so what’s your favorite quote of all time?

CHECK OUT ALL MY SERIOUSLY PIECES AT HYBRID MOM!

If it’s Not Meat in the Taco Bell Taco – What the Hell is it? | Seriously?

taco bell-bodyMaybe it makes me a bad parent, but a quick meal on the way to some after school activity or when we’re rushed is sometimes essential for my family.  I don’t have the time or the patience to force feed veggies that make my kids gag at every meal.  Nor do I have the skills to hide broccoli in brownies and cauliflower in cupcakes a la Missy Chase Lapine.  While all the moms at a playdate are talking about processed cheese stuffs and how they would never go to McDonald’s, I’m worrying there is evidence of a recent visit in my car and hoping no one needs a ride. Continue reading

Innocent Or Not, I’m Guilty

I went out shopping with my mom the other day and I felt guilty, not because I was breaking my necessary self-imposed shopping ban, but because I had left my kids. I had left them not with a babysitter, but with my husband. They were not doing child labor; they were simply going to a movie.
I couldn’t pinpoint the cause of the feeling I was having. Maybe it was guilt brought on by the fear of sending them off alone with their dad. Would something happen without my guidance? Continue reading

Laughter is Truly the Best Medicine

(Next to antibiotics)

getting a shot
Okay, let’s put it out there.  This blog is for the most part fluff.  Sure, it’s funny, sometimes insightful, ironic, relatable fluff, but fluff nonetheless.  Today, I had a conversation with a person 100’s of miles away, who reminded me that fluff has its purpose.  Continue reading

A New NBC Segment is in: Unique Gifts for the Holidays

Looking for unique holiday gifts?  Or maybe you’re just an awesome supporter of Jenny From the Blog, either way, enjoy the latest parenting segment! Watch out Today Show.

If a video does not come up, use this link:
Unique gifts segment for NBC Continue reading

I’m a Flash Sale Addict

gilt logo
You know the sites: Hautelook, Gilt, Zulily, Ideeli, Rue La La? There’s addiction in my family, so was no surprise that I would fall prey to the gene. For years my father feared that I would pick up some bad habit or other: pour the sauce, pop the pills, ride the cocaine train, squeeze the juice (okay I made most of that up. I’m not privy to the colloquialisms of drug users, but it sounded good right? Maybe I could get the last one to catch on with steroid users. “Brad looks so buff all of a sudden.” “Oh, didn’t you know, he totally squeezes the juice.” Okay, I digress. Continue reading

Have you Heard of this Childhood Epidemic: IDWS

Please take a moment to read and forward this warning about an epidemic affecting 7-18 year olds across the country. 

They call it IDWS (I Dun Wannagoda Skool).  My son has a chronic case of it and it appears to be going around.  Apparently, it affects the tummy leg and in rare cases, the elbow.

My son hates dislikes elementary school, as did his mother before him and her father before her.  It may be genetic.  Plus, I was the kid who complained of tummy aches on a daily basis and spent more time in the nurse’s office than in reading group, which makes it hard not to overtly empathize with him.  My vain attempts to make the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th grade, which he’s currently in, sound fun are thin veils over my bitter repressed memories.

Let’s be honest, unless you’re one of those nerdy kids who likes to stay quiet and screams “yippee” when the teacher give extra homework, elementary school does kinda suck.  Preschool was fun; you played and then you played,  and then you ate (while playing with your food) and then you napped, and then you played some more.  Then you went on a play-date, and then you went to sleep and started again on Tuesday.

In elementary school you have to be quiet and sit still.   You must control your shaking leg, your yapping mouth, your tapping finger, your automatic pencil clicking, and your wandering mind.  And that’s all before you’ve done a lick of work.  It’s a tough gig.

Many mornings my boy is overcome with “IDWS.”   His tummy hurts, his head hurts, his heart hurts.  Being a neurotic hypochondriac, I’m usually somewhere between, “give me a break,” and “call 911!”
Well, this morning he had it bad.  I knew last night I was going to give him a break, but to watch him work for it was half the fun.

“Ouch, my tummy!  My leg.  Oww,  cry cry, my leg, oh my leg.” fall to ground grab leg and writhe in pain. “I can’t walk.”

“Sweetie, what’s the matter?”

“My  leg hurts and also my elbow.. oww my elbow.  My elbow.”

Ah, the ever popular elbow pain, always adds a layer of truism.  Who is teaching him this, his father?  Definitely not me, a few lessons from a seasoned pro like myself and he would never pull this elbow pain crap.

“This tummy-leg-elbow thing sounds bad!  What hurts the most?”

“My elbow.  No, now it’s my leg… and tummy.  Oh, they all hurt.”  He whined, as he pulled the thermometer from his mouth for the 10th time.

“Still no temperature?”

“Oh, there’s temperature Mom.  It said 95 that’s high.  That’s like boiling.  Whoa, this time it said 98, Oh G-d, I’m getting worse.  Ow… my elbow.”

“Well, that is a temperature.”

I can’t wait to put in his absence excuse.  Please excuse Jake, he had a 98 degree temperature, which as you know is almost boiling.  Oh, and he had distinct, chronic elbow pain.

“It really hurts, I think need to lie down.” He said with the back of his hand to his forehead in a pretty good Scarlet O’Hara imitation.

“I know it hurts, but it’s probably growing pains. You’re getting taller and apparently you’re going to have one huge monster elbow.”

“That’s not funny, I’m sick.  My heart hurts… and my throat.”

I know, it was probably insensitive of me to joke at a time like that.

Soon, he’ll discover the old thermometer under hot water trick and when the display reads 107, I’ll gush at how high his fever is, like my parents, before me did.  Well, before they inevitably snickered amongst themselves.

Look, in my house you get points for creativity.  Once, I got away with wrapping a strawberry fruit rollup around my finger and chewing it off leaving a yucky red rash looking residue, which either fooled the nurse or I impressed her with my resourcefulness.  I know this because I got picked up that day after  putting an ice pack on it.

Or was it a hot water bottle?  Back then they treated everything with one or the other.  Headache… icepack.   Tummy ache… hot water bottle.  Stubbed toe…  icepack followed by a hot water bottle.  My son rarely sees the hot water bottle, but we do use a lot of icepacks.  Yep, that elbow-itis isn’t going to cure itself.

Ninety is the New Eighty | Jenny from the Blog

It’s hard to look younger when you keep getting older.

elderly ladies
They say forty is the new thirty, and thirty is the new twenty. The problem with everything being “the new”something is that it gives people (and by “People” I mean me)  less chance to look young for their age. Frankly, I feel about twenty most of the time, which I guess is the new ten. However, when I attempt to run up a flight of stairs or decipher the hieroglyphic message in the spider veins  on my legs,  I’m reminded that I’m not twenty anymore.

Remember that “hot you” that made heads turn? Continue reading

Let me disband the rumors of my spousal abuse.

Yesterday’s post was short and sweet, well that may not be the right word, let’s call it upsetting. Apparently, some people were concerned about the spousal abuse I am inflicting on my husband. Let me clarify, I do not throw objects at Mark very often, ever really, except apparently the occasional salty miniature cracker; which by the way, he is perfectly capable of defending himself against. (He’s trained for such instances.)

The actual argument was over a little thing I like to call, my new rug. Don’t take that the wrong way, this is not about a Brazilian wax job. Anyone who knows me is aware of my mentally unstable cutting phase. Yes, I used to cut. I cut my beautiful shag carpet from its original 16×24 down to a 2×3 welcome mat. My last dog and one of my true loves, Buddy, got very old and equally incontinent. Look, as someone who pees a little each time I laugh, thanks to childbirth, a fallen cervix, and episiotomies, I have sympathy for the “incontinent,” but not so much when they pee on my rug. Buddy peed many too many times on that rug and so I got me a razor knife and went to town cutting out each pee. The odd angles made it look like a jigsaw puzzle and my family and friends, fearing for my sanity, and held an intervention. So, I threw away the welcome mat sized rug and retired my razor.

We then had this cold hard ceramic tile floor in our family room. My kids played on it, bumped their heads on it, rode their bikes on it, skinned their knees on it, and at night we all cuddled on it to watch American Idol. Then we peeled our sweaty legs off it to get in bed.

I finally gave in and bought a beautiful, currently discontinued, area rug with a link pattern from William Sonoma. The rug I describe is the very one that was being eaten by my new puppy on my husband’s first day alone with him. A day in which I reminded him repetitively, to his dismay, “to be with the puppy at all times or have him in the crate.” A day in which I forgot my pocketbook and returned a mere 20 minutes later to find my husband asleep in the bedroom and my puppy having a pricey wool link pattern sandwich. A day in which even after the incident he swore it was, “no big deal” and that I would’ve “probably done the same thing.” I can’t get mad at the dog, he’s just a puppy and puppies chew. Does the same rule apply to Mark because he’s just a husband and husbands are frustrating asses? Nah, I still have faith in men.

So, please don’t worry about Mark. I say he got off easy under the circumstances… next time I find something harder than puffed crackers, like Swedish fish or something sharper like pita chips!

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Halloween tips for NBC Dressed as Katy Perry – Obviously

Here is one of the segments for NBC 6 Miami, Yes, I dressed as Katy Perry.  I thought there would be some irony in a parenting correspondent dressing as Katy a few days after the whole Elmo debacle.  I know, your thinking which Elmo debacle right?  Yeah, he always seems to put his furry carpeted foot in it doesn’t he?  Anyway, enjoy.  I’ll post these segments as I get them.

Halloween Segment for NBC 6