Tag Archives: Jenny from the blog

Do you Have a Move-a-Body Friend?

At a conference I attended earlier this year I heard the amazing Brene Brown, give a speech about, move-a-body-friends, (MABFs): People you could call in the middle of the night to come over and dispose of a body, no questions asked.

At first I thought, well, who of my friends has the right girth and strength to take on such a task? Next I thought, who will I have to “off” to test that my supposed “Move a Body” friends will follow through?  Then it dawned on me, Brene was simply speaking metaphorically, and I put down the knife.

I didn’t stop there, I mean, I did put down the knife, but I thought I’d check with one of my besties to see if she would move a body for me, or at least share one of those “Best Friend” charms with me.

Me: Hey.

Possible MABF: Hi. What’s up

Me: I just wanted to see if you would move a body for me?

MABF: Wait, say that again?

Me: Would you move a body for me?

MABF: Move one, like in Desperate Housewives?

Me: Yep.

MABF: How did it die?

Me: Does that matter?

MABF: Well, did you kill it on purpose?  Look, if it was Mark, I would do it, obviously, but other than that, I’d want to know if it was an accident.

How quickly we assume it’s the husband?

Me: Fine, let’s say it was on purpose? Let’s say Mark made that weird chewing sound he makes when he eats bagels, and I just couldn’t take it anymore, so I beat him with the cream cheese container.

MABF: Really, that’s your weapon of choice, cream cheese?

Me: I’m assuming it would be in the heat of the moment, and that would be the nearest thing.

MABF: Do you have any idea how long it would take to kill someone with a plastic container? I don’t know if this is a well thought out plan.

Me: I’m NOT MAKING A PLAN, I’m just assessing the level of our friendship!

MABF: Well, what condition is the body in; is it all mangled? I have a weak stomach, you know.

Me: I just told you I’d beat him with a cream cheese container, I don’t think mangling will be involved.  Maybe some curdling, if we let him sit too long.  I want you to know I’m starting to rethink our friendship.

MABF: Why do we have to move it?  Couldn’t we just say it was self defense?

Me: Fine, but in that scenario you’d have to rough me up to make it look real.

MABF: Yeah, I could do that.

Me: I feel like you answered that so effortlessly and yet, the rest of this pow-wow isn’t going the way I’d hoped.

MABF: Look, I wouldn’t rule the whole disposal thing out, I’d just have to know a little more.

Me: Is that your way of saying you’d be up for the conversation?

MABF: Would it go like this, “Hey Tracey, what did you get at Saks yesterday?  What are you making for dinner?  What should I do with the body in my kitchen?”

Me: Yes … but frankly, I wouldn’t care what you’re making for dinner.

MABF: Then sure why not? Would you have extra bagels?

Me: Yep.

MABF: I’m in. So, what are you doing for breakfast, I’m hungry.

As it turns out, I do have an MABF; a meticulous, crafty one, who’s willing to beat me up, if necessary. I’m so lucky!

What crazy stuff have you done for your  MABFs? I’m making a list for next week’s article.

I’ll start — I’ve jumped in a pool in a beautiful silk dress because an MABF jumped in at the end of her 40th birthday party in a fun attempt to reclaim youth or maybe she was just super drunk, but I thought she shouldn’t be in there celebrating alone.

BE AWESOME, SHARE THIS POST & JOIN ME ON FB

BE AWESOMER, TAKE ME SHOE SHOPPING!

RELATED:

Sign up for updates from The Suburban Jungle and if you haven’t seen The Jenny Isenman Show yet – check out this week’s topic – Momnesia: Why are we so stupid, years after having children and how do we fix it?

Can No Man Remember Trash Day | Things that Annoy the Crap Out of Us – Week II

OK, last week I started the, “Let’s NOT Allow Our Hubbies to Annoy Us, So We Can Have Better Marriages” experiment.  We’ll pick one pet peeve per week that we’re going to ignore, until we all have the perfect, flawless, annoyance free marriage, I imagine Angie and Brad have.

This week we’re talking TRASH DAY (feel free to insert your own grievance).

We’ve lived in our home for about 9 years or 936 trash days. I know, most people prefer to count in years. Though, I think the British count in trash days or do they use the metric system? I’m not sure which. Anyway, we’ve had the same trash days (Mon. and Thurs.) every week.

Yet somehow, my husband forgot to take out the trash both days last week.  Not just one day, which he’s usually good for, once every three weeks, I’m talking both!  Frankly, I can’t wrap my head around it.

Forgetting trash day isn’t like forgetting to pick up toothpaste.  One does not peek into the neighbor’s bathrooms to see if their tubes have run dry, nor do we all run out of Crest at the same time. HOWEVER, one does get a peek at the curbs of about 50 neighbors with large green plastic containers on the curb; and yep, our day is the same as everyone else’s.

Why doesn’t my husband notice the cans littering the street and turn back to set ours out when he’s mere feet from the house? I wonder. “There’s no conspiracy here honey, the neighbors aren’t putting out all their cans, simply to watch you turn around and put out ours, so they can snicker behind your back,  “Dumbass, fell for it again! Hee hee hee, now let’s all go schlep our trashcans back into our garages,” high-fives all around!

“The garbage collectors are also not fucking with you, by changing up the days they will collect our junk.  Nope, they have better things to do, like leaving the can in the direct path of my car, which often ends with me extracting it from the undercarriage and hoping it pops back into shape.” Those are the jokes they play, duh?

My husband’s standard response, “I forgot, and I didn’t notice all the other trashcans.” I get it, I’m no ogre, it was an honest mistake (made at a 1:6 ratio. Not that I’m counting), but he has like two weekly jobs around the house: trash and light bulbs.

Could you imagine if us moms just forgot 50% of our jobs any given week?  Like, “Oops I forgot to feed the kids this week and seeing other people eat, or even eating myself didn’t remind me. But for the record, I also drove carpool this week and I got them to and from school everyday. Yep, I didn’t even miss one!”

So, this week, I won’t mention the trash once. Even though I noticed, just this morning, that there was a ton of recycling stuff in the regular bin – where it should NOT be. I also won’t breathe a word about all the stuff in the small cans in our office and bathrooms, which clearly weren’t emptied. No, I’m taking this experiment seriously. Zipped, are my lips.

On a side note, last week’s experiment went really crappy! I mentioned that my hubs parked in the farthest spot one time and noticed that he was too close to a car another time.  I said, “Didn’t you read last week’s column about how much your parking annoys me!” To which he responded, “Yes, did YOU?”

Touché.

Is it just me or does your husband have trashcan blinders too?

Is Playing Online Games with the Opposite Sex Flirting?

Until recently I would have answered that question, “No way, playing games against anyone, men included, is innocent fun.” But now I’m not so sure. What happened? The other day, after scoring 72 points with Q-A-T-S (yes, it’s a word) while playing Words With Friends, I got a chat IM asking me to text a sexy picture of myself. WHAT?

Look, I haven’t been hit on in quite some time, but that’s flirting, right? Horrible, letchy, uninvited flirting. Couldn’t he have gone with “Nice word”? Seriously, I have a rule that word games should never make you feel like you need a shower.

Here’s the thing: many of us enjoy playing games on our smartphones and tablets. Okay, many of us are addicted to these games. We’re playing them with more than a handful of friends, as well as random Facebook connections we couldn’t pick out of a lineup. So, where’s the harm? They’re just games, right?

Or are they?

One time, after beating an old high school acquaintance at Scramble With Friends …

Read More

The Jenny Isenman Show | Anti Aging Episode (VIDEO)

This week, on The Jenny Isenman Show, I’m discussing the best fixes for my most worthy adversaries: enlarged pores, wrinkles, sags, uneven skin tone, and cellulite, with the author of Forget the Facelift, (one of my dream guests) Dr. Doris Day. She kinda frequents all the morning shows: Good Morning America, The Dr. Oz Show, The View ... to name a few.

She’s even talked cutting-edge procedures with Barbara Walters on 20/20. I would totally stalk her if I had more time. I tell her about the stalking in our interview, and I’m not gonna lie, she looks nervous about it!

In the segment you will:

  • find out which random place I’ve gotten Botox and why it’s a kind of awesome new trend.
  • learn how heat energy can lift sagging!
  • see a picture of me at prom … in a gold lame dress … that had a turtleneck!
  • see the results of the newest lasers and laser alternatives.
  • learn how to properly berate people who are younger and wrinkle-free (F@ckers)

ENJOY!

If you learned anything from the video, even if it’s that I was super cheesy in the 80’s or that Dr. Day has incredible legs, please like/share it and pass it on to your friends. I’m tryin’ to make this a full time gig!

Behind the scenes extra:  I was sick as a dog when filming and Dr. Day offered to bring me to a walk-in clinic somewhere in the middle of Jersey City at 8PM. Smart, knows her stuff, chills with the stars, and is willing to hang with the sick girl, she was pretty incredible.

XO –

Jenny From the Blog

 

 

 

Why Steal Candy From Babies When You Can Steal iPhones | People are So Disturbed

When I heard a man was caught on video stealing an iPhone from a baby, I had to ask, “Really? what kind of immoral thief are you?” And “where can I see that video?”

Listen, I find babies super cute, not in a “OMG, I need another one of those,” or a “Can I please hold your baby — random stranger?” kinda way. In a “That little bundle is seriously precious when he’s quiet or cooing, and looks even cuter through the window of this Starbucks,” kinda way. I also believe that no one can resist a baby dressed in a costume or using an adult item that’s been miniaturized, like wearing those mini Air Jordan’s or carrying a tiny briefcase.

So, when I heard a man had taken an iPhone from the hands of a sweet innocent child, I had to ask the obvious questions:

  1. Was the child in a cute costume of any sort … perhaps wearing a tiny tuxedo?
  2. Was the child about to clear a board on Angry Birds that he had never passed or was he possibly watching an episode of Phineas and Ferb on the Disney XD app and now he’ll never know if Candice tells her mother of the boys’ hijinks in time to catch them?
  3. Was this some Robin Hood-esque act of justice, in which the thief took that phone to give to another baby who was needier — maybe one who had a first generation iPhone or dare I say, a Blackberry?!

Not knowing the answers to these questions will haunt me … will haunt us all. Worse, is the thought you may not have thunk, “How will this affect me?” When other crooks see how easy it is to take an iPhone from a baby, will they start adopting this practice as well? If so, does that mean I won’t be able to hand my child my iPhone/iPad/KindleFire/Nook in the hopes of taking a few minutes to peacefully assess my options in jewel-tone skinny jeans?

Will I not be able to wait patiently in line for my latte while my little one gleefully attempts to breed a rainbow dragon or learn random words in Spanish?  Because that would beyond suck. Not just because those coffee lines are long and my kids get bored if they’re not stimulated for more than 30 seconds, but also because it’s really cute when they say things in other languages.

I’d like to suggest that we not let the lawbreakers win, and simply fasten these items to our children like pacifiers.

“Oh, you want that iPhone?  Well, you’ll have to take the baby with it, and let me tell you she doesn’t sleep through the night and um, good luck breast feeding!”

“Um, no thanks ma’am you keep her.”

See, problem solved. 

You’re welcome.

Of course, feel free to let me know if you have any better ideas …

 

 

The Premier of the Jenny Isenman Show YAY! (VIDEO)

As many of you know, I’ve been working on a new show for CafeMom!!! I am beyond excited (hence, 3 exclamation marks).

That said, below is the video and the top 10 reasons to watch this week’s PREMIER episode of THE JENNY ISENMAN SHOW, The Drinking Show, where we talk juicing, juice fasts, energy drinks, smoothies, and teas that are touted as “the next best thing,” but are they?


Top 10 reasons you should watch:

10. In 7 minutes we cover:

  • Why juice fast actually make you gain more weight.
  • Why you don’t have to down those 8 glasses anymore.
  • A good reason to justify your coffee addiction.
  • Why the blender you already own is better than the pricey juicer you want to buy.

9. My guests, Lyssie and Tammy Lakatos ( The Nutrition Twins ) are incredibly knowledgeable, but little and cute, like action figures … really smart action figures.

8.  I reference old school Gen X faves, like Mad Dog 20/20, Boone’s and Peach Shnapp’s … don’t pretend like you never sipped them from a paper bag!

7. I have a hot barista, whose sole job is to whisper “Mommy Porn” inspired sweet nothings like: “Tonight I’ll do the dishes and fold all the laundry!”

6.  You truly love and enjoy me and you want to support me!

5. You’ve been waiting for this show to come out as you only have a 7 minute attention span.

4. I embarrassingly, call one of my guests the wrong name, but to be fair, she called me Bill moments earlier, which was edited out, so I say we’re even.

3.  Your cat will like you more if you watch.

2. We go way back and you know I will make you feel insanely guilty if you don’t watch (or at the very least pretend to watch) and respond.

1. Did I mention the barista is shirtless?

Thanks for watching!

PS – If you learned anything at all, please share, and like, and comment, and pass it on! If you learned nothing at all, please pretend you did! Then share, and like, and pass it on (you should probably skip the comment part).

Here are a few behind the scenes extras:

  • The barista who makes a shirtless appearance was inspired by a Ryan Gosling meme I created in my spare time.  I know, what’s that, right? What spare time?
  • My favorite makeup tip is a highlighter at the top of your cheekbones it makes them really pop! I use Moonbeam by Benefit at Sephora. Put it right below your brow-line to make your brow pop!
  • I really wanted to ask if there is a drink for better more frequent sex that would stop me from crying “headache” 3 times a week. Though, I think I could take a guess: Vodka, the answer is vodka.
  • Yes, I called one of the twins the wrong name! In my defense, moments before she called me Frank (that incident was edited out), but I think that makes us totally even.
  • I DID drink MadDog 20/20 and Cisco, and Boone’s Strawberry Hill and Peach Schnapps and often straight from the bottle. If you’re 35 or older, you know you did too, so don’t try to deny it!

Thanks for you support!!!

XO,

Jenny From the Blog

Does Your Hubby or Wife do Things that Annoy the Crap Out of You

I know, that was a stupid question (and frankly, “stupid questions” are number 1 on my list of pet peeves), but at this point in my marriage, I’m thinking it’s possible that most things my hubby does falls into the “annoying” category, which probably makes living with me and absolute pleasure!

So, I’ve decided to take action, well action — in the form of an experiment. We’re all told, “You can’t change people, you just have to accept them,” unfortunately I can’t accept that advice anymore than I can accept my hubby’s, ahem, little ticks.

But maybe if we try not to sweat the small stuff slowly, you know, one small thing at a time, we can change our outlook?!  That said, each week, I will TRY to accept a different (most likely NOT) Earth shattering annoyance, until I have accepted them all … or I’m too old to notice them anymore, whichever comes first.

I would love for you to do this with me!!!  Because, like running a marathon, it helps to have someone to train with and complain with and stretch with.  Though, no stretching will be required for this experiment, unless you want to stretch, I mean, it’s not prohibited either and if that’s what you need from me I say let’s do some toe touches.

For MY first week I will attempt not to complain about my husband’s parking for an entire week!  This will be extremely hard, as my husband likes to take the first available spot upon entering any lot, which is usually also the farthest.  He clearly didn’t read The Secret, which explained that you CAN get the best spot everyday, if you believe.  I am a believer and frankly, I’m also lazy, and willing to circle endlessly, which ensures I ALWAYS get an impressive spot.  In fact, I wish we all compared spots when we entered a mall or other establishment, so that I could show off my parking prowess!

To add to my hub’s penchant for picking bad spots he likes to park between cars when there are corner spots available (hello, only one side of your car is exposed to damage!), and he doesn’t know to park slightly closer to the nicer car or to car on his side!

He NEVER, well, only after my constant whining, reparks to straighten out the car (we’ll add my insistent whining to his list of pet peeves). We could be hanging off a curb or parked on a diagonal, and it just isn’t worth going into reverse, because apparently that’s a major chore.

Lastly, he doesn’t consider the fact that I’m usually in super high-heeled shoes and wedges! How is not thinking of my foot attire at time like that, or all the time for that matter?

By the time I enter a store I’m tired from having walked a mile.  I’m possibly limping from having twisted an ankle and I’m most certainly hoarse from saying, “there’s a spot, look there’s a spot” while pulling in and continuing to point out ALL the spots we could’ve parked in as we walk through the lot.

So, I imagine my barking and bitching could also be on his list of peeves.  Yes, I know, we seem perfect ladies, but we have little miniscule tiny barely noticeable flaws (we’re only human).

So, I will bite my tongue all week and see if I can let it go … and if letting it go makes us less bitter by the time we hit our destination, we call it a score. If not, I will of course, go back to complaining and pointing and whining, duh.

You can obviously pick your own peeve for this week and let me know what it is so I may use it in a column and of course, dedicate it to you!

Next week, be ready for (forgetting trash day)!

PS- Go check out my new show – The first episode it up!!!

Photo Credit/ Iheartlaughing.blogspot.com

First Bennifer Then TomKat Now DiRhea | Celeb Break Ups Test My Marriage

Like with debacle that was Tom and Katie’s marriage, or the demise of any celeb union, for that matter, Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman’s split, directly impacted my chance at a lazy  happy marriage, don’t act like it didn’t affect you!

Everyone remembers when Devito and Perlman got together right? I mean, I wasn’t born yet but I heard tales.  Yep, just like Brad and Angie, it was a whirlwind — or something like that.  Fine, I just know that they’re both short and funny and if short funny people can’t stay together… who can?  Who can?

Ummm lesson learned. Do not marry someone as short or funny as you!

Listen, following the love lives of celebrities is like couples therapy … only cheaper. I think we’ve all learned some pretty amazing things  for the price of a weekly gossip mag:

The Travolta’s taught me to avoid marrying arguably gay Scientologists, but if I must marry one, to now know that the house must be staffed with people who give happy endings and sign confidentiality agreements.

Brangelina justified me spending our entire life savings on a Chateau in France for my family to live in.  That was the best week ever! Hey, do you think I can trade my food stamps for flying lessons?

I learned from TomKat that marriages with buyout clauses and auditors rarely work. Though sharing lipstick and Louboutins with your 4 year old is always a super awesome idea.

Posh and Becks made me see the need to conceive another child, with the sole purpose of naming it something totally random like, Stockbroker or Almondbutter or Miami.

R. Patz and K. Stew’s recent reconciliation taught me that the love of your life should totally take you back if you get caught on camera, making out with another man. Which is why I unexpectedly mounted a local anchorman in the middle of his “Live at 5” newscast (BTW they really don’t wear pants behind the desk!).

And yes, “DiRhea” once gave me the impetus to stick it out in the tough times to attain similar longevity.

Sure, their celebrity morph name wasn’t the sexiest, but it didn’t stop me from asking Mark during heated arguments, “What would DiRhea do?”

He rarely answered, but I like to think the mere inquiry got us through some tough times.

Now, with the news of DiRhea’s marital demise, I realize, there’s no finish line. You can never throw your hands in the air, run through the proverbial ribbon, and scream “We won! We lasted 3 decades, now we get to coast!”

No, on the contrary, it proves that we’re gonna have to work at this whole marriage thing for like, ever, which sucks because I’m pretty much phoning it in already.  At this point my kids are numero uno and after a short list of important things, like our pets, success, and freshly folded laundry, comes my man.

So thank you DiRhea, because of you I’ll make my hubby a higher priority in my life. Well, within reason.

I mean, if Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that when women get divorced, they find younger, hotter, more energetic men — with abs!  Madonna, Halle, Demi, Katie C., Mariah, Susan S., Ellen B., you give hope to us all… mmmmmm abbbbs!

The eNup | Why People Should Sign One Before Giving Them Your Email

E-Nup – When giving out our email addresses we should require people to take an oath promising to refrain from forwarding anything that evokes guilt, fear of bodily harm, or doesn’t mesh with our personal humor requirements. THIS IS WHY…

Of all the things that annoy me about email, people who incessantly insist I need a larger penis, need Prozac or Cialis, and I should be getting said drugs from Canada, the worst offender is the email chain letter. What’s worse is how I handle receiving them — Yes, I erase them right away. Not just because they’re junk mail but because, as ridiculous as it sounds, there’s a part of me that feels that once I’ve read one of those things, the clock has started. How the universe is somehow connected to my AOL account, is a mystery, but a powerful one.

Some chain letters go so far as to mention G-d. The idea that The Almighty is busy checking my inbox and confirming that I have forwarded the mail to the specified amount of people, in the allotted amount of time, seems like a stretch. Yet, there is this irrational side of me that’s like, “What if?” “What if G-d wants me to pass on this sentimental poem about growing up in the 80’s?”

Yesterday, I got one of those emails. In the subject box it read, “Sorry, I Had To. “ I have to say, if your subject is an apology for sending an email in the first place, rethink pushing that FORWARD button. This particular one was a message to empower women, yet to reap the true empowerment you were required to forward it to 9 of your “Sista’s.”

The list of recipients was 50 scroll-downs long. Apparently, Sista’s, hopeful at the thought of being empowered by diligently following the rules set by the email creator (probably a snickering man) were passing this thing around the globe.

This irks me even more because, I spend my days trying to disseminate relatable, humorous stories that look at the lives of moms, women and gen x-ers and here’s some poorly written warning – that actually refers to women as Sista’s – and it’s more popular than my well thought out, hilariously funny, albeit poignant articles.

So I will apologize in advance for the rest of this post.

If you “Like/Share” this article on FB or Email this:

“OMG, Jenny from the Blog at The Suburban Jungle may be the most poignant humorist of our millennium, nay, Ever! You must read her observational humor and slice of life stories as I think they’ve cured my momnesia, plus my wrinkles are 63% less noticeable.”

to 75 of your closest friends within the next hour you will meet with great fortune. Your children will be smarter, your hair will be thicker, your boobs will be fuller, and you’re husband will have a 6 pack again (or for the first time)!

This may be a humor column, but it’s NO JOKE!

I had a paralegal look it over and she said it’s legit.

Just yesterday, a woman in Westchester sent this on to 75 of her friends and the minute she hit that button, she got a call from her Mother-In-Law saying they couldn’t make it over for dinner!!!

Need I say more?

Unfortunately, if you do not take this seriously, I must fear for your safety! A mother in Idaho who ignored this request, was shopping at a Gap later that day, and inadvertently smashed into the window trying to exit the store. She was not physically harmed, but she was extremely embarrassed.

I guarantee misfortune if you do not send this, because I will personally come out to your home or place of work and open fire. I have a moderately powerful Nerf gun that shoots like ten rounds, and those suctions cups can have a very strong stick factor. I could get one right between your eyes and then it would take a lot of spit and pulling to get it off. I don’t know for certain, but it could leave an unsightly mark! All I’m saying is think about it… $10 MILLION or my saliva all over your face?

Okay, tick tock……………………………………………………………………….

Hey Sistas – If you like my writing — share, share, share and share! Ooh, and subscribe to the blog! Ooh, and did I mention I got a show? Oh, and totally comment!

xo

J From the B

The True Bane of Suburbia

The bane of suburbia… the teenage wannabe gangsta.  Beware their 8 Mile lingo, tee-shirts with moderately offensive sayings, and fro-yo addiction.  They’re hoodlums alright. Well, they wear hoodies and they live in the hood, well, the middle class suburban neighbor’hood.  

So the last two days I’ve taken my son to the skate park at the Kirshberg YMCA in middle/upper class USA.  Be careful with the bigger kids, I warned my son, I don’t know if they’re so good.

“What, those kids are bad?  How do you know?”

“Well, for one, none of them are wearing helmets or pads.”

“Mommmm.”

“Plus, none of them is lucky enough to have his mom cheer him on from the sidelines.”

“Come on.”

“Oh, aaaaand I saw one of them smoking!”

“No way.  No one was smoking” my little innocent said, aghast.  (Kids are really anti-smoking these days.  If only they knew what chimneys their grandparents were.)

“Yo G, I got 4S” one of the older kids yelled to the others.

“No way, Seri is my bitch, yo.” Another yelled back… through his braces.

Wow, you know who thinks these kids are baaad? They do.  I mean, really?  Is this what happens when you’re so bored of suburbia?  Can their parents stop laughing long enough to tell them how ridiculous they sound?

“WHAT’S UP WITH ALL THE LITTLE KIDS?” inquired one of the white suburbanites, who got dropped off in his momma’s Beamer.

“I know, yo.  Is that one on a rip stick?” The one wearing the unfortunate fashion statement of a tee-shirt, which said, “Smell my Bag,” asked…  referring to MY little kid.

My ears perked up, ready to jump in with something like, “You got a problem with my son biatch???”  Oh, I can do “thug wannabe” just as good as these pishers.  Plus, I’ve actually lived in a city, that’s street cred, G… Props.

“Shit, that kid is bad ass, that’s hard to do.” One marveled.

Phew, he’s lucky he called my kid “bad ass,” ‘cause homie was about to get a beat down.  Plus, he  IS bad ass.  I wonder if he knows it?

“Mom, mom watch me do this… mooooooooommmm watch!  Are you watching???” Jake yelled, unaware.

Well, that answered that question.  

Frankly, Jake had no problem with these boys.  He climbed up to the highest ramp and chilled at the top, as all the suburban gangsta’s tried to decide where to go next.  (Hollister, Starbucks, Jamba Juice?)  I know, you wouldn’t want to run into them in a dark alley. It would look like this (insert squiggly dream sequence lines here.)~~~~

“Yo bro, where do you think you’re going, BIATCH?”

“Umm, I was going to Abercrombie, but take what you want…”

“F@ck that, we were going there too!  I got a sick coupon, G.”

As I contemplated the irony of this scene a new playa‘ walked up to me and asked, “Are my eyes ridiculously dilated?”

Oh, this one’s the real deal, huh? Doing drugs at the park and flippant enough to ask an adult about his “tells”?

“Um. yep, kinda.” I answered, “Why do you wanna know?” I followed.  Look, if he’s insolent enough to ask, I get to ask back.

“Oh, because, I just went to Dr. Rothberg, you know the ophthalmologist?  He did those drops and I don’t know if I should skate in the sun before they wear off.” He replied like a kid debating whether to wait the full half hour after eating, to go into the pool.

“Well, sure sure not a great idea.” I said, trying to squelch my laughter.

“Ok then,” he said as if I had given him sound parental advice.  Then he walked into the ramped- up hockey rink and yelled to his boyz, “F@ck this shit, I’m gonna get a f@cking smoothie, yo.”

“Yeah f@ck this, let’s get smoothies,” Smell my bag, concurred.

“No way, bro, I want fro yo, yo.” piped another…

And they were gone, those crazy hooligans arguing off into the sunset about toppings and calorie counts, and spoiling their appetites.

f@ckin’ thugs.

If you liked the post push “like” up top. If you loved it, please share at the bottom and if it didn’t float your boat … let’s keep it on  the DL!!!

link_badge

I was nominated for Circle Of Moms — please please — Simply click and vote!!! XO

I Got My Own Show!


First promo is out (if you’re a YouTube subscriber, please like it)!!!

It seems like forever that I’ve been waiting for someone to give me my own show. Yes, it’s true… rounding the corner on 40 certainly wasn’t helping. I was making a running list of all the things I WILL NOT DO. You know, like a depressing version of a bucket list? Actually, that’s redundant, but you get the picture.

My looming midlife-ishness was making me realize all the things I haven’t been given that I feel I truly deserved, like: 10million from the Florida Lottery, a Ford Fusion from American Idol, or a Medical degree from Harvard. Granted, I’ve never played the lotto, been a contestant on American Idol, or attended Harvard, but still I feel slighted.

Which is how I’ve felt about the whole getting your own show thing. I mean let’s face it, everyone has a show now a days, EV-ERY-ONE. Really, it doesn’t take much. You don’t even need a full set of teeth (see Gator Boys and Honey Boo Boo) Sure

Honey’s 7 so those will grow back in, but I’d venture to say that she’ll be missing a few in adulthood as well. (Call it a premonition.)

I just want to state for the record that I do have all my teeth, which is usually a plus in the job market search, but now I am considering knocking one out or at least covering it in gold. What? Does Flava Flav not have a show?

I guess the truth is, with everyone having a show, I kinda just imagined that there was a line somewhere, like a make-shift DMV. You wait in it, all annoyed until someone with really long nails and two tone hair looks at you and tells you your gig. “Hmmm, annoying accent, high hair, tattooed, currently intoxicated… JERSEY SHORE, ANY MOB SHOW, CO-HOST ON THE TALK.” “Highly educated, dry, unattractive, interesting and cerebral… sorry, your options are limited NEW YORK TIMES TV Host (only to be watched during air travel), guest on REAL TIME WITH BILL MAHER.” “Looks good in a bikini – doesn’t prune in hot

tubs or pools – questionable morals… BACHELORETTE, BIG BROTHER.” “Funny, un-pc, likes to talk while standing, attractive enough… LATE NIGHT TV.”

You know, something like that.

So for years, I’ve sought out this “line,” and like unicorns and tooth-fairies – it exists but, only to those who believe… which is why I found it. Or rather, it found me. Yep, my show, THE JENNY ISENMAN SHOW, will be airing on Cafe Mom starting October 16th!

Here’s the first promo!!!

I like to believe my DMV bio went like this: Funny – anxiety stricken – obsessed with cellulite/wrinkles/sagging – annoyed with all the hype about beauty products, juice fasts, scheduled sex – may or may not have showered today – needs answers to cut through all the bullshit and look and feel at least a decade or two younger so that she doesn’t end up in a padded room – attractive enough…. TALK SHOW FOR MOMS, REAL HOUSEWIFE OF SOMEWHERE, GUEST ON DR. PHIL, HOARDERS.

We just finished filming the season last week and it was total insanity… (By the way, it’s a talk show for moms, in case you weren’t sure.) I was sick as a dog! My voice went from Demi Moore sexy, in early episodes to Harvey Fierstein drag queen, towards the end, I kid you not. I had an amazing set, amazing guests, amazing producers, a 15 person crew: filming, trying to keep me healthy, fed, and hydrated… checking hair and makeup. Sounds a bit Christian Grey-esque right? I mean, these are things a girl can get used to!!!

Most importantly, I got a CHEAT SHEET for all the mommas to live by – all while keeping a cynical eye and a sense of humor. Yes, I regaled some embarrassing 80’s moments, as I love to do. And I think with the power of editing, it will end up a Chelsea Handler, meets, Erma Bombeck, meets, Richard Lewis, meets Oprah. Am I aiming too high? Those editors better be freakin’ good, if not, I’m hoping at the very least it’ll be a Wendy Williams, meets the Tiger Mom, meets Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, meets Dog, the Bounty Hunter.

I promise to give behind the scenes play by play! If you like my writing, share this with friends so they can follow the blog and keep up with the show because I guarantee it’ll be as exiting as watching the guys who fish with their hands… and that’s saying a lot, I know.

Oh and thanks, as always for your support! This is a big deal for someone who’s small potatoes.

XOXO,

Jenny From the Blog

I May Have Been a Preteen Stalker

Didn’t we all have adolescent obsessions that bordered on stalking or was that just me?  This story will make your embarrassing moments seem way less embarrassing!  It’s that bad, I’ve never spoken of it.

As you may have noticed from some of my posts, I have a flair for the dramatic.  I recall an experience of such exaggerated intensity with my first crush.  For the sake of the blog and the fact that some of my readers will know him, I’ll call him Eric, Eric Axel.  This pseudonym is not exactly cryptic, it‘s about 2 letters off from his actual name.  Look, I pursued him like an obsessed stalker, I’m sure it’s no surprise to him.

This was old school stalking I’m referring to.  Anyone and everyone stalks now a days — moderen technology: cell phones,  FB,  twitter,  my space, youtube, linkedin — it’s not even impressive.  No, I’m talking about the kind of stalking that took time and effort and premeditation, something to tell your grandchildren about.

So, I’m gonna rip off the Band-Aid, that is this repressed memory, and let the healing begin.  I was in the 7th grade … Continue reading →