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Tag Archives: Jenny from the blog
Too Graphic for National Geographic
Certain things go on in nature that make you want to close your eyes and scream “earmuffs.” Yet, instead you watch, unblinking, like a sicko. It’s not your fault… we all do it.
Susan at 8AM: You have to come see this. It’s horrifying. It’s like DuckRape.
Me: I just want to make sure we’re clear. You’re asking me to come to your house so that we can watch ducks have sex? Can we not afford good porn?
Susan: You make me sound so cheap.
Me: Well, you want me to drive over to your house to watch something so horrifying you’ve termed it rape?
Susan: Yeah.
Me: Okay.
What? You people think my days are so full of work that I don’t have time to watch ducks get laid?
- I thought it would look something like this.
- But, it looked more like this.
Me: Half hour later, (when we were able to peel our eyes away) HOLY CRAP! Continue reading
A Thought on New Celebrity Parenting Trends: WTF?
For years I’ve tried to keep up with the celebrity mommas, but maybe it’s time to call it quits. Here are some of the trends celeb parents have started thus far. Yes, I’ve logged them for you.
Let’s go back to the simpler days, when “with child” became the new “in rehab.” Oh, how I enjoyed that shift in trends, I was able to finally stop popping Adderall like Smarties… and start a family.
Next, the paparazzi traded the “crotch shot” for the “baby bump” — another adjustment I was willing to make. I loved being on baby bump watch with Access Hollywood and Us Weekly, even if I was looking at false alarms of bloated actresses who had just downed some salty Chinese take-out. Look, anything’s better than staring at LiLo’s firecrotch… again. Plus, let’s just say my Brazilian waxing bills were through the roof, as I never knew when someone would snap a surprise pic of my undercarriage while I provocatively exited a cab.
Then of course, celebs threw us for a loop by naming their kids things like Continue reading
20 Indicators that You May be Addicted to Words with Friends
Love Words with Friends? If more than half of these describe YOU, I’ll see you in WWFAA or we could just play a game, my schedule’s too tight for a twelve step program these days (TWELVE min- 14pts.).
Ok, I’ve played my fair share of Angry Birds, and Fruit Ninja, and Cut the Rope, but there’s something unique about Words with Friends, that has me utterly fixated. (FIXATED minimum 18 points) Maybe it’s the fact that I get to whup other people and feel superior. (WHUP min- 13pts.) I don’t exactly know. I do know that I’m not alone, 20 million players have downloaded this addictive app. (ADDICTIVE min- 18pts.)
I mean, I’m not an addict – Frankly, I could quit at anytime. Though, I’m told that’s the first thing an addict says. Well, right after, “I’m not an addict.” S&*t, I’m screwed. (SCREWED min- 14pts.)
In an effort to see if I’m truly hooked, I compiled a list of indicators. Feel free to test your level of obsession, as well. (HOOKED min- 13pts.)
1. You know every two letter word in the WWF dictionary AA, JO, ZA, KA, QI etc… (QI min 11pts.)
2. You know every word that can be made with the letters J, Q, X, Z, from AJEE to ZYGOTE… (ZYGOTE min- 19pts.)
3. You realize it’s sometimes worth it to leave open a triple when you can get a high score on a double-double. (HIGH min- 10pts.)
4. Number 3. didn’t sound like gibberish to you. (GIBBERISH min- 17pts.)
5. You know that to win you need strategy and persistence. A good vocabulary is near the bottom of the prerequisites. And you’re ok with that, because you’re a persistent strategist. OK (OK is not a word. Didn’t see that one coming did you?)
6. You can only use about 50% of the words you play in an actual sentence. “Gi, your hair smells terrific.” (GI min- 4pts)
7. You’re willing to try every letter combo in your stack to make a bingo. (BINGO min- 11pts.)
Sex or Oven Cleaning : The Age Old Dilema
That’s the question I was faced with the other night… and after a decade of marriage, I chose to clean my oven. (Sadly, that’s not a metaphor.)
Recently, I went to a sex party, which one of my friends was co-hosting. Upon entering, I was quickly introduced to the “Sexpert.”
“Jenny this is Julie, she is a penis expert.” No joke, that’s how she was introduced. This made me wonder: why people don’t introduce me as something cooler?
“That’s funny. I’m somewhat of a penis expert myself,” I said, buffing my nails on my shirt as if cleaning an apple. Then I blathered something about not being a pro like her, because I didn’t want to jeopardize my amateur status. You know, for the Olympics? Jenny what the hell are you talking about? Did you just mention the Olympics? The Olympics of what – hand-jobs? Just shut up, already.
Sometimes when I’m uncomfortable I use exaggerated humor to fill conversational gaps. Did I say use? I meant abuse, like in the form of an oddly misplaced stand-up routine, which can become painful to watch and often requires more than a two drink minimum.
“Oh, what do you do?” she asked, not knowing what to make of my schtick. “Are you a urologist or something?”
“No, I’m just a slut.“
Really, Jenny? Did you just say that? What’s the matter with you?
“I’m not really a slut, I’ve just… Continue reading
Want to be Married to Christian Grey – It Could be Something Like This…
“…ANASTASIA: Mr Grey, is that a Barbie up my butt? Christian: Oops, wrong playroom… and other things you might hear in Christian Grey’s household after a few years of marriage and a couple of children…” (For any mom who’s read any or all of the series. And I promise, No spoilers!)
Okay, I’m officially on the bandwagon. You moms with all of your oohing and ahhhing, and “Oh, Mr. Grey-ing.” Your running to the nearest Pleasure Chest Sex Emporium, and your, “My laundry and dishes are piling up because I can’t put these books down,” have gotten me to read the Fifty Shades series.
So, what is it about these books that have moms devouring them like left over fries on their child’s plate?
Well, here’s what I’ve come up with so far: It makes me giggle when someone calls their vagina their “sex.” I find the sound of ripping foil oddly erotic. And Christian has made millions of women across the world, myself included, rethink our marraiges, and wonder why our hubbies can’t be more attentive, loving, obsessed, and well, “Christian-esque.”
So, what’s the deal? Why can’t our hubby’s be more like Christian Grey?
Because like “Twilight’s” Edward Cullen (who the character is based on) – hot young vampires and hot young billionaires that barely work, have erotic sex, lavish you with expensive goodies, and make sure you’re never cold, hungry, or un-swathed in designer duds – don’t exist.
But if they did, would we want them? I wonder what it’d with a Christian Grey-esque man after a few years of marriage and a couple of children?
Hmmm? (Imagine squiggly lines in your mind, to indicate a dream sequence):
CHRISTIAN: Ohh, Mrs. Grey, stop biting that lower lip or I’ll take you here in the breakfast nook!
ANASTASIA: Um, Mr. Grey, it would behoove you to wait until the children are done with their Cheerios. It might be a bit awkward and messy with them around. Plus, you’re starting to creep me out.
CHRISTIAN: Oh, don’t worry about the mess, Mrs. Grey., Ms. Jones will tend to it.
ANASTASIA: Which reminds me, Mr. Grey, please ask Ms. Jones to stop sterilizing the butt plugs with the bottle nipples.
.
CHRISTIAN: Oh Anastasia, Continue reading
Mathletes are Athletes Too
“I’m gonna count you out!!! When I’m done with you, you’ll be 1/3rd the boy you are today… That’s 33.3%… .33333… .333 infinity…” and other trash talkin’ you may hear at a Mathletes Meet…
What kid doesn’t like to trash talk – especially boys? It must be in the genes because I definitely don’t walk around the house saying stuff to my son like: “I’m so much better at brushing my teeth then you are.” (Even though I totally am.)
What? Please, he’s had like 6 cavities and I’ve had 2 and I’m tons older. My oral hygiene seriously crushes his!
Fine, so maybe it’s not so surprising that they trash talk, but I want to know if it carries over into all facets of life?
My son plays on a travel baseball team and one of his teammates is also a Mathlete. Yes, I said Mathlete, it’s a word.
So, during a double header, where our team chanted really cool stuff at the mound in unison like, “A meeting, a meeting, there must be cheating.” I turned to that friend and asked if there’s trash talking on the Mathletes playing field – because that would be really funny.
And so me and my favorite “humor catalyst” (See: What Happens When You Scream “Penis” in Front of a Bunch of 9 Year Olds – for an explanation and a full on giggle fit) began to imagine what that trash talk would sound like:
Amy: Yeah, he totally trash talks. He says stuff like, I’m gonna count you out!!!
Me: Oh, and, when I’m done with you, you’ll be 1/3rd the boy you are today….
That’s 33.3%
.33333
Amy: .333 infinity
Me: You’ll be a freaking decimal when this is over.
Amy: Continue reading
Phrases we Could Teach our Kids to Say – to Make us Feel Younger Smarter and Prettier
“…It may be too late to train our hubby’s to dole out the ego boosting compliments, but our children? Yes, yes (twist handlebar ‘mooostache’ if you have one), we can work with this. Here’s a list of phrases I’d like to teach my children to say. Feel free to borrow it – it’ll make you feel good…”
Not my little girl... but still pretty cute.
The other day my daughter said, “I bet people who just meet us think we’re sisters.” Frankly, that’s a bet I wouldn’t take, but who am I to sneer in the face of lovely sentiment? I mean, that’s the kind of phrase you would have to train (or pay) a child of 7 to say, but no, she did it on her own volition. No, coaxing or prodding, not even in the hopes of getting a new Barbie out of the deal. Though I think a phrase like that deserves a new iPad – at a bare minimum.
The effect of this simple observation, that my clearly brilliant child made, was utter joy- total narcissistic mirthfulness – and that’s not a phrase I use often, as you can imagine.
This got me thinking: If this tiny guileless thought could make me feel so great, why can’t we train our children to say things that will make us feel more hip, young, or smart, and less twitchy or stabby?
Truth is, Continue reading
Productive Things to do While Doing it – The Cure for Boring Married Sex
You might be thinking, “Jenny from the Blog, the Jen X’pert, silly girl – that’s just you. My sex life is as hot and heavy as ever.” Well, to you I ask this, “When was the last time you had sex on a surface that didn’t have sheets?” (Hmmm? been a while huh?) “Ok, when was the last time you had sex not between kids asleep time and you asleep time?” I rest my case – B-O-R-I-N-G… Continue reading
What Those Candy Hearts Should REALLY Say – After Marriage – A little post V-Day fun
While searching for a pic I found this. I guess I
On Valentine’s Day I was reading through the V-day Sweethearts, you know, the conversation hearts, the ones that are supposed to represent the sweet nothings you would whisper in your lover’s ear before bed. Like: I love you, be mine, kiss me… blah blah blah. So in that vein, I’ve made a list of what should be etched in red on those cute little hearts.
BTW this article is not for newlyweds, so you can refrain from reading and telling me how head over heels you are. Give it a few years. Ahem- I mean, I’m happy for you. Frankly, you can avoid this article unless you’re past the 7 year itch. Sorry, but resentment and boredom takes time to cure, like a salami.
WIVES CONVERSATION HEARTS:
I BOUGHT ANOTHER PAIR OF SHOES, DON’T WORRY THEY WERE ON SALE
SHH… THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF BEVERLY HILLS IS ON
NO, I WON’T PUT THAT IN MY MOUTH Continue reading
Wanna Know Why Moms Can’t Relax? – Shit Like This:
Yes, every one of us has had an attempt to get a little peace backfire like this (and you men think our lives are so rosy)…
I’m finally getting a long overdue pedicure and a long overdue moment of respite ( or so I think). This current span has been about 2 months or 68 days, but who’s counting? I like to let the nails grow unattractively long in the true spirit of martyrdom. Then I wear sandals and constantly draw attention to how badly I need a pedicure, by saying things like “How badly do I need a pedicure?”
The trick is to go as infrequently as possible and only surrender when your nails split and a jagged edge pulls threads in your sheets, thereby making a 3 AM roll over feel like chewing on a metal gum wrapper. Eeeek.
Most importantly do not, under any circumstance, remove the polish. This way you have undeniable proof of your hectic schedule. It implies that your “me time” is so sparse that you don’t even have enough to simply wet a cotton ball.
Today I arrived with the red so far at the tip it looked as if I was wearing a vampire’s French pedicure. Sarabeth, whose real name is Choi Jae Hua, or Yi Hae-Won or something else I can’t pronounce, looks at my feet with a “Tsk.” “I know it’s been a long time,” I say with the joy of squeezing in one last sympathizer. Then she looks up at me and asks if I’m aware there’s a Hello Kitty sticker on the bottom of my foot. “Oh, my daughter was looking for that, if only it were so easy to find my keys.” She then asks if it’s okay to remove it. “Well if you can’t work around it.” I’m not sure if she can hear me; my chair is set on high-multifunction-10. Its “Human Hand” technology is loudly knocking me out of my seat while it heats my tush, vibrates my thighs, froths milk for my cappuccino, and sorts my mail.
I lie, well shimmy back, trying to enjoy my favorite part, the massage. I can’t seem to relax. I am so keenly aware of every left over scrub granule that is kneaded into my legs. Worse, I can sense her daydreaming of the family she has left behind and I’m sure she’s totally resenting me for not shaving, detesting America for making her touch feet, and cursing her boss for making today “$20 Tuesday.” I finally start to relax as she coincidentally realizes she has massaged long enough.
She halts to do the required Korean calf knocking, which she follows with the “Ten Toe Pop” event. She’s seems let down when she can’t get a good snap out of the last two toes (not unlike that annoying handshake of the mid-nineties).
“Okay, pick you color” she says pointing to the wall. I can’t decide between “After Sex” or a hue one shade darker, “3 Bottles of Whine.” I don’t understand why all the colors are sexual innuendos. In the end I go with “Popped Cherry,” which is a medium shade of…well, you get the picture. I spend most of the polish application staring at the tranquil paintings of nude women relaxing on furniture. The woman in the painting across from me appears to be giving herself a breast exam on a plush sofa.
I decided to heighten my relaxation by purchasing a 10 minute massage. I swiftly wriggle myself into the pretzel seat after viewing a short video demonstration by Cirque De Soleil. Then she literally beats the tension out of me. “Excuse me Sarabeth, that knot you’re trying to knead out, I think that’s bone.” She ignores me as she does not recognize the sound of her own name. Probably because she picked the tag out of a basket this morning.
No matter, she manages to pummel it smooth regardless. Then she grabs my wrists, pulls my arms back and relentlessly yanks trying to crack my shoulder blades. She ends with vigorous karate chopping to the back of my neck. Sarabeth then signals someone, and an EMT rushes in with the Jaws of Life to free me from the chair. I walk away totally relaxed, one arm carelessly dangling from the socket. No worries. I’m sure it’s nothing a good orthopedist can’t fix. Seriously, ALL of my attempts at relaxation seem to stress me out!
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Moms of Boys are Jealous Shrews – So Here’s a Contract for Potential Future Wives
The moment you bring a baby boy into the world, you start to wonder when he’s going to leave you. That’s right. You know that one day he’ll leave you for another woman — even though he’ll propose to you all through toddlerhood and tell you that you are the only girl for him.
LIAR
Then he’ll spend all his time with his girlfriend, ‘cuz she’ll trick him into loving her, with the partying and the drugs and the play-dough. Yep… and that’s just kindergarten. What, there are no drugs in Kindergarten? What about sniffing Elmers and eating paste? You feel silly now, right?
You’re already quite certain that the woman he marries will probably resent you for being so awesomely cool. And you’re betting she’ll do whatever she can to break the strong bond you have with your sweet prince. Women say it’s good to marry mama’s boys, but they don’t really want to deal with the mama part.
Wenches!
My husband has told me time and time again to cut the cord… no f*****g way! I’m waiting until that thing rots and falls off. I mean, for how much longer is he going to say “I love you” when he walks out the door, or hug me in front of his friends, or ask me to lie with him at night? Frankly, I don’t know, but I won’t be the one to stop it.
If he’s 40 and wants me to lie with him and scratch his arm, I’ll be all “Move over, Megan,” or whatever his unappreciative, son-stealing wife’s name is.
Let’s be honest: he may be 5 now, but before we know it, he’ll be shaving, and driving, and then he’ll leave us to go to college somewhere cold. Then he’ll get married and move to be near her mother, because that’s what girls make boys do: move near their mothers! Then he’ll be a father, and then one fine holiday he’ll have “wifey” call us to cancel our plans. Then he’ll try to make up for it by sending one of those Harry & David gift baskets filled with pears, because he’ll remember that we love pears, but they’ll be bruised — like our hearts.
Next thing you know we’ll be an old crones – calling our cats by our childrens’ names and answering things that aren’t even phones.
(The last part will be because everything will be a phone – key fobs, throw pillows, hats. I imagine it’ll be confusing for lots of people, not just us, OK?)
No, we can’t go down that road, well, we may not have any control over technology, but we can take a stand against son stealing right now.
Look Obama’s already babbling into a shoe, crazy aging guy
We’ll make those Jezebels pay… no, sign! Yes, a contract for us to make them sign, besides the pre-nup. That’s right, like using WiFi in Starbucks, they’ll have to agree to our terms.
This is a MIL-nup, and it goes like this:
- I will realize that my Mother-in-Law (MIL) and all her awesomeness is a gift to me that should not be taken for granted.
- I will marvel at her beauty and miraculously never aging skin, every time I see her.
- I will compliment her cooking, her decorating, and most importantly the incredible way she raised her son, my husband.
- I will acknowledge that her son is on loan to me so that we can make grandbabies, which will probably look like her and have her wonderful traits, which I will mention in conversation frequently and with great fervor.
- I will remind my husband to call my MIL daily saying: “Have you told your mother you love her today? You should, you’re really lucky, she rocks.” Plus I will throw in phrases like this:
- “That amazing woman raised you, you should call and thank her… again.”
- “You can truly never thank her enough.”
- “Let’s go over and thank her in person.”
- “We should bring her a gift when we go.”
- “She’s so deserving of gifts.”
- “Let’s take her on vacation with us.”
- “And get her another gift.”
- “Maybe a beautiful locket with pictures of you and our children.”
- “No, I don’t need to be in the pictures, she didn’t raise me… unfortunately.”
- I will tell other women that their mother-in-laws are not as fabulous as mine and I shall be willing to throw-down in the event that said women disagree.
- I will take my MIL to her weekly hair salon appointment and shopping at Loehmann’s, when it is deemed necessary by age.
- I will spend ALL holidays with your family because they are so awesome and gracious and I realize how much mine sucks in comparison.
And lastly:
- I will move to be near my MIL, whether she has retired to Century Village in Florida, decides to live in a nudist colony in Arizona, or she goes bat shit crazy and moves to Alaska for the fresh sushi. She is so wise and wonderful, I’m sure her choice of habitat will suit us perfectly!
Oh, and:
- My MIL can soooo live with us when she’s old and can’t remember who I am.
There. You can send this to other moms of boys and print it to be signed when the inevitable happens. I just saved you from losing your sweet sweet boy. You’re welcome.
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XO Jenny From the Blog
Check out:
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