It’s the little things...
Current mood: touched
Category: Life
Dear Blog Readers,
This blog isn't funny. And not because I have low self-esteem and doubt my talent, but because it's coming from my heart instead of my funny bone. But I hope you'll still read it.
Hugs, Jennifer (Eolin)
This is a blog that I've been writing in my head even before I knew blogs were around. I'm not sure they were even "invented" yet. Or maybe they were, and I was just behind the times.
Back in 1997, a friend of mine passed away. He was 24. It was unfair. It was awful. It was paralyzing. And I haven't spoken about it much detail since.
His name was (and still is!) Matt. Or Matty as I called him. I met him at a birthday party. He was from Chicago and I asked what brought him to Los Angeles. "Cancer," he replied. "But you're so young!" I said. And we was. He was 22-years-old and had the late stages of skin cancer. (He had a mole on his back that he couldn't see... and you can guess the rest.)
What was interesting is that when he was telling me about the doctor he had come out specifically to see, I realized that I saw a story about his doctor on 20/20 the very night before. I remember being very struck by this because I'd never watched 20/20 before in my life and what were the chances that I'd meet one of that doctor's patients the next day? But because I'd seen the story on TV, I was able to engage with him about his treatment and his disease. I also knew that this doctor was for patients that had run out of hope of other treatments and were praying for a miracle.
Matty was one of the nicest people I've EVER met in my life. We dated for awhile while he was in Los Angeles receiving treatment. He would get a fever from the treatments and I remember holding him as he shivered while riding out the fever. I also remember him telling me that he knew he was dying. I was younger than him and didn't know what to do with that information. I'd just left home on the east coast and had been in LA for less than a year. I had no idea which way was north or south on the 101 and I definitely didn't know how to comfort a young, brilliant, wonderful man who was dying and laying in my arms.
He moved away from Los Angeles to go live with different family members around the world. We broke up due to proximity and awkwardness. How do you carry on a relationship in these conditions?
A year later, I finally got to see him again. It was the day after he received radiation for a brain tumor. It was a painful procedure for him, but he never showed it. He was positive and couldn't wait for our day out together. He treated me like the most important person in the world.
Things I remember about Matty were that even though he knew he was dying, he chose to do things that made others happy. He fixed my toilet. He fixed a light on his sister's car. When he went back to Chicago, he volunteered at a church and helped the nuns with odd jobs around the convent. Even when he had what most people would call "license" to be selfish, he couldn't stop genuinely helping his friends and family.
The brain tumor turned into two brain tumors and then that turned into many many many brain tumors. Seemingly overnight. I remember his sister calling me to tell me the news that she was rushing out to Chicago to be with him. We cried for 20 minutes on the phone. No words. Just silence peppered with sudden chest-racking sobs. Matty'd had several surgeries to remove the tumors and none of them worked. It was just a matter of time.
She gave me his phone number at the hospital. The piece of paper with the 10 digit number sat on my counter for days. I couldn't call it. It meant saying goodbye. And I was too chicken, and quite honestly, too selfish. I put my awkward feelings over his need to hear from loved ones.
When I finally screwed up the courage and did call, a nurse answered. Matty had just been moved from that room 10 minutes ago... and was unable to take calls. 10 minutes. I missed him by 10 minutes. Because I was too chicken to pick up a phone.
He died a few days later in ICU. His family and friends around him. They had taken him off life support and expected him to die immediately, but his heart was so strong that he kept going. He was, afterall, not even 25.
I didn't get to the funeral either. TV production stops for nobody, especially the personal needs of an assistant.
There's really not a day that goes by that I don't stop and think: I never said good-bye. I let him go without saying, "I love you and will miss you. You meant the world to me and I'll always remember you and live my life with you in mind." And I let this happen because I couldn't think about his needs over my own. Taking care of his feelings should have been at the top of my "to do" list. But instead, "don't think about it and do nothing" made it to 1.
11 years later and I still cry thinking about it. I miss him. It's times like this when I really do hope that there are angels and that people who have passed on can really hear our prayers.
Long story short (too late, I know), when George Carlin died, I recieved the following in my inbox. It was something he wrote shortly after his wife died. Because he was (and still is!) a genius, he nailed exactly how I felt 11 years ago. But I didn't know how to say it. All I could do was have a panic attack and bury myself in work. And not date for 4 years. And pray and hope that somehow, Matty knew (knows) that I love him and miss him.
So read his words. They made quite an impact on me, and I wanted to share them with you... my online family.
A Message by George Carlin:
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways , but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.
We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete...
Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.
Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.
Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.
Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.
Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.
Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.
AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
If you don't send this to at least 8 people.....Who cares?
I’m Out of Touch: Or why I’ll never be a member of the Pussycat Dolls
Current mood: sweaty
Category: Music
There are many things in my life that remind me that I am getting older and (slowly!!) approaching my Golden Years:
1) People who were born in 1990 are turning 18 this year. They have been driving for 2 years and can vote. (I was a junior in high school in 1990. That seems like FOREVER ago. I had a perm and pinned my pants. Neither were a good idea.)
2) My gray hair recently seems hell-bent on conquering the entire area of my head thus making me go to the salon more often. (Thank goodness I don't dye my hair blue ... yet.)
3) I make an "oof" sound when I stand up. And several joints make tree-snapping/cracking noises. (And I ALWAYS comment on it like it's the first time it's ever happened.)
And finally...
4) I realize that I own many age-inappropriate things that weren't so age-inappropriate a few years ago. Like hoodies, stuffed animals (all doggies!) and... the latest track titled "When I Grow Up" from The Pussycat Dolls on iTunes.*
*For those of you unfamiliar with the song which would be anybody who A) is over 18 and B) sane, please take a gander at the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gvcpb4_7ZQ
"When I Grow Up" is at best described as "stupid and incredibly catchy like an STD." You don't want to own it, but eventually you got it and there's nothing you can do about it. Even the free clinic can't help you on this one. This is what you get for paying 99 cents. However, I digress...
When listening to this (insipid) song, I realized that I'm old (but refined) because the chorus makes me blush. Said chorus is as follows (as best I can tell from listening to the lyrics with my old-ass ears that have a ring in them from too many days blasting my Madonna on my Walk-man back in the day):
When I grow up! I want to be famous! I want to be a star! I want to be in movies! When I grow up! I wanna see the world! Drive nice cars! I want to have boobies! When I grow up! Be on TV! People know me! Be in magazines! When I grow up! Fresh and clean! Number one chick when I step out on the scene!
BAHH! So many issues!!
1) "Boobies" is one of my least favorite words. Just typing it sends me into a snit-fit. It's ranks right up there with "slacks" and "apps" (short for appetizers). So every time I hear them sing the "B" word, I blush and sing, "I wanna see the world! Drive nice cars! I want to have LALALLALAA!"
2) "Fresh and clean"? Really? That's a goal from when you were a child? Were you raised in a barn or did the lyricist see one too many Summer's Eve commercials growing up?
3) This NEED to be famous. Why? I like being able to go outside without being mobbed. I like that I can buy tampons and nobody is around to report it to Perez Hilton. (He would so draw mean cartoony on me too! I know how he rolls!) Pussycat Dolls, why have you glamorized paparazi attention? You're just wishing crazy people into your life and face it, your personal assistant is going to have to spend A LOT of time down at the courthouse filing restraining orders for you. Really? Is this the life you want for your personal assistant, Pussycat Dolls? IS IT? Sheesh.
(And just for the record, I know, that A) I enjoy writing lists and overuse them in blogs and B) that I'm a butterscotch away from a stint at a nursing home. I understand this!)
I can assure you that NONE of these lyrics were what I was thinking when I was growing up. NOT EVEN CLOSE. I was way too nerdy and scared of... well, everything. My lyrics would have gone more like this:
When I grow up! I'll be 18! Wanna go to college! I want an excellent GPA! When I grow up! I want to have an apartment! Live in a city! Never date a hole-of-A! When I grow up! Write for TV! Eat bacon all the time! Wear lots of hoodies! When I grow up! Organized and clean! And labels on all my goodies!
See? Very different from what these "dolls" were thinking when they were kids. Very different. (I couldn't rhyme "Be Mrs. Ralph Macchio" in there or I would have included that...)
I can only imagine what the dreams of our youngsters are today. I have a feeling that this might close:
When I grow up! I wanna retire at 18! Skip a degree! I wanna live without smog! When I grow up! I wanna hybrid car that flies! I want a really bitchin' breast aug! When I grow up! Paris will be Queen! Nicole VP! Brad Pitt will be the First Man! When I grow up! Be a billionaire! Countless things to wear! Cancer free tan!
Anybody want to share a villa at an assisted living community with me? All I ask is that you I) clean up after yourself, II) don't steal my hoodies and III) bring your own butterscotches. OOOF! (Wow, did an oak fall over or what?)
Sigh...
Currently
watching
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The Onion Movie Release date: 2008-06-03
THE STREETWALKER IS BACK! Please enjoy the latest installment of Trailer Trash. We had the luck to have access to the premiere of Uwe Boll's latest film, "Postal." It stars Zack Ward and Dave Foley and is ... already out of theatres! Yes. Timely. But, when this ditty comes out on DVD, find your friends and be offended and LAUGH.
Just FYI - the movie is rated a hard R. This Trailer Trash episode is rated PG13. I wouldn't blast it from your speakers at work. Just saying.
Late night letters from Jennifer...
Current mood: awake
Category: Life
Dear Critter of Undetermined Origin Who is Stuck in my Fireplace,
OH MY GOD WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM??? Why are you cooing? Why are you making crying sounds? Why the flapping? WHY MY FIREPLACE??!?? There are a billion chimneys in this town and you had to pick mine. I'm a Delicate Daisy. I don't deal well with these sorts of things. Despite my GPA, I don't think so well on the fly. Which is precisely why I chose to tie my fireplace's chainlink curtain shut with dental floss. That's my big brilliant plan to keep you out of my apartment. Dental floss. Let's see you break through that! (Who's more scared now in this scenario, hmm??!)
Well, whatever you are, (pigeon? squirrel? my career??!) I hope you get out quickly and whatever you do, PLEASE do not die in there. (Especially if you are my career; not to be selfish, but there are a lot of pigeons in LA already and we could do with a few less of these flying rodent football birds). Moreover, I don't think I could handle the smell.
I hear dead things, Jennifer (Eolin)
PS - However, I from this incident I was able to find out that our "emergency pager" for our building's manager has been discontinued and now goes to an operator who has a LIST of things that are considered an emergency and a "flapping, cooing critter in a fireplace" is somehow NOT on said list. I took 5 minutes to tell her why it IS an emergency to which she transferred me to voicemail.
PPS - GRRRR!
PPPS - I'm sleeping with all my lights on.
PPPPS - I'm not getting any sleep tonight.
PPPPPS - I'll probably be fat by morning.
Dear Age Inappropriate Hoodie,
I don't care that you are made for a 14-year-old girl. You were $4 at Ross and I wear you proudly! NYAH!
Living in my own private Orange County, Jennifer (Eolin)
PS - My gray roots are showing, so I know I'm not fooling anybody.
PPS - Even though everyone tells me my skin is really, really, really youthful looking and that I don't look my age.
PPPS - I'm sleeping with SPF on tonight just in case of UV damage.
PPPPS - I'm not getting any sleep tonight.
PPPPPS - I'll probably be fat by morning.
Dear Tropical Fruit Flavored Sugar Free Popsicles,
Sigh. Eating 5 of you isn't a proper dinner, is it?
Cavity free, Jennifer (Eolin)
PS - At least you're low in calories!
PPS - Why don't you count as a serving of fruit if you taste like fruit??
PPPS - Why am I still hungry after eating you and wired like there was sugar added even though your box says there isn't??
PPPPS - I'm not getting any sleep tonight.
PPPPPS - Sigh... I'll probably also be fat by morning.
Monday Letters from Jennifer...
Current mood: cantankerous
Category: Life
Dear Facebook,
Jennifer (Eolin) is writing Facebook a letter! HAHA! See, I used part of your own status update template to open your letter. Isn't that clever?? It's okay, I'll wait while you marvel at my genius.
(2 hours later...)
Okay, now that we've defined our status (I having the higher status for A. making you laugh which instantly puts you beneath me, B. being waaay smarter than you and C. cuz I said so, so neener neener!) I'd like to bring up a little issue I have with your site. FACEBOOK, YOUR SITE MAKES ME FEEL STUPID! How? I'll show you.
Grievance 1: Scrabulous. Now, I'm a writer. A paid writer. (Oh sure, for cable, it's still writing!!) I know a lot of words. I know how to spell a lot of words too (even though I didn't know that "a lot" was two words until I was about... oh let's just say 16). But this game makes me look like I should be repeating kindergarten for the eleventeenth time. Therefore, since I know I'm a whiz-bang at vocab, I dare say, Facebook, that your game is flawed. I'm sorry. Too big a word? How 'bout this: It's no goods, yo.
WHY does Scrabulous always give the other people playing the game such good letters? Why do I always end up with "P, Q, E, B, Z, K and H"? WHY?? I'm always stuck making first-grade level words ("cat," "dog," etc.) while my oponents have such great (and high point scoring) words like, "crayon" and "doxy," and "impled." (Impled?!) So Facebook, do you know what word I spelled today on your highfaluten game because it was all I had on my tray? "D*ldo." THAT'S RIGHT! I had to! I had nothing else except a B and a Q and YOU accepted d*ildo as a "valid word." Facebook, please tell Scrabulous "up yours" for me. I even know what word you can use when telling him this. What?? I was going to "impled," where did you go?
Grievance 2: The damn quizzes! I scored 57% on a horror movie quiz. What. The. Fiery. Hell? Jennifer (Eolin) never scores that low. Yes, I know I don't know horror movies that well (except that they exist), but do you NEED to illustrate my lack of education on the matter with a PERCENTAGE that then takes it upon itself to NOTIFY everybody on my friends list that I'm a bone-head?? (Which, BTW, anything below a 91% gives me hives, a runny nose and a bad case of the Mondays.) So let's just stop with all the quizzes and notifications. I have enough problems. Which brings me to...
Grievance 3: I threw a sheep at myself. I appreciate that we are able send cyber gifts to each other. I received cyber bacon the other day and it was virtually tasty. But, getting a notice that I accidentally threw a sheep at myself, well that just made me feel plain idiotic. I mean, I'm a grown woman. I'm 30-mumble-years-old and proud of it. I DO NOT THROW SHEEP. I may have dreamed about tipping a cow back in Amish country, but not sheep throwing. Especially at myself, unless, of course, it's already been made into a sweater.
Therefore, Facebook, I have to spend more time on MySpace than you. There are other options on MySpace other than just applications. (Although, side note to MySpace, I don't want to know how much I'm worth as a human pet. Isn't anybody else just A LITTLE offended by this one??!) I just want to look at people's pics and read blogs. And maybe look up a few people from high school and giggle at their hairline. That's all.
Person you may know, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Golden Girls,
Damn, girls! You look good for being a bazillion years old.
It was nice to see your faces in the news today (and you're not dead!) from the TV Land awards. I want you to know how much your show meant to me growing up. I would watch it with my grandma and it made me realize that getting older was awesome and that my grandma wasn't just a "grandma," she was a lady who was still alive and just starting the best years of her life. Your show actually made me excited to be older!
Also, your show kept me company on many a lonely night. Back in my single days, I'd watch your shows on Lifetime on Friday nights until it was bedtime. I never had to shave my legs for you, I just had to bring cheesecake (thighs).
THANK YOU for giving everyone years and years of laughter. And thank you, Betty White, for continuing the laughter with that purse. Seriously. You didn't need to bring it on stage. (Although the old biddy inside me applauds your responsibility in protecting your things and moreover, your identity. It's the new biddy in me is completely appalled.)
Sunday Letters from Jennifer...
Current mood: adventurous
Category: Life
Dear Dry Cleaners,
WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE MY FAVORITE BLACK SKIRT AND FAVORITE WHITE HOODIE?!? What is this blasphemy!? I give you my clothes on blind faith and expect you to TAKE CARE OF THEM. What I don't expect to happen is having you tell me that you have NO record of them ever coming through your establishment. And that accusing question: "Are you sure you brought them in?" YES. YES I AM.
Wire hangers!!! Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Goodwill Employees,
Hello, you valiant steeds of good tidings and charity! Thank you for accepting all my things from my house that I simply A) do not need anymore, B) don't fit into anymore and C) randomly don't like anymore cuz I'm a little moody and chaotic in my whims.
Now, even though you are very, very good people, I do have a little itty-bitty bit of constructive criticism for you. On your receipts it clearly states "bags" and "boxes." Easy-peasy, right? I'd like to offer this advice: Please alert your employees to the difference between a bag and a box. I know! Seems like that's step 1 from orientation, but somewhere, it's getting lost in translation.
I brought in 4 bags and 3 boxes of housewares. That does not equal 2 bags of clothing. I restated my donation to the clerk again. He crossed out "2 bags of clothing" and wrote "5 bags of clothing" and then looked at me like a sad, sad puppy. You can see where I'm going here. Perhaps summer school is in order!
At least your employees are very nice, even if they are dim.
Recycling, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Elizabeth Perkins,
Good afternoon! I loved you in Big and tolerated you in The Flinstones. You are a very good actress with a solid history of working. However, I didn't expect to see a live re-broadcast of He Said, She Said in the middle of a carwash parking lot today. Only in Hollywood!
I saw you yelling at the car wash attendant that he locked your keys in your car and that this was his fault. You made this clear very LOUDLY. Arms flailing, cell phone calls being made, loud accusations being hurled around. Hmmm. Ms. Perkins, (or can I call you Perky?) I'd like to let you know that I sat in my car next to your car after you walked away. Nobody touched it. Sorry, but you locked your own keys in your car. Maybe next time, stay with your car until it's been brought up to the front of the line. Maybe keep your window rolled down too. Just in case. It's just a thought.
Must love arguments, Jennifer (Eolin)
PS - This very well may not have been you but I'm telling people it's you cuz honestly it's a way better story that way.
Dear Dove Clinical Protection deodorant,
Why hello there! Look at you with a perscription strength product available OTC. Good for you! But one small comment: Could you please make this line in an unscented formula? I'm all for a lovely "Original Clean" smell, but honestly I have a hard time fessing up after a "You smell so good, Jennifer! What is that?" compliment by saying, "Thanks! It's my pits!"
Could we work on this? I'll be so ever happy and less inclined to ramble nervously at parties.
1/4 moisturized, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Dry Cleaners,
I found my skirt and hoodie in a bag by my chair in my house. I forgot that when I went to drop them off, it was Memorial Day and you were closed (EVEN THOUGH YOUR BRIGHTLY LIT NEON SIGN SAYS: "OPEN 7 DAYS A WEEK"!!).
My bad. Oopsies.
Set straight, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Humble Pie,
Could you work on not tasting so much like an old shoe??
You may or may not know this about me, but I tend to like clothes. (Yes, I know I wear hoodies a lot, but those qualify as clothes and my hoodies are 100% adorsables.) I like shopping for hours with my girlfriends; I like trying something on in a dressing room and making happy fists when it fits and throwing it against the wall in disgust (and possibly even calling it names) when it doesn't fit; but most of all, I like judging clothes. (What an unexpected surprise, I'm sure! Who would have guessed after reading my extremely tame and not at all opinionated Project Runway blogs? It's out of left field, I tell ya!)
In the past few months, I've become familiar with a new line that burst onto the fashion scene in 2007, fresh from Cincinnati (aka: Cin-City!) and I LOVE IT. So since we're all girlfriends (even the guys!) I had to share. Because that's how I am. I've told you about my favorite products, so now it's time to talk clothes. So please pack your purse and let me take you on a Jennifer (Eolin) cyber shopping trip. I'd like to introduce you to Cin-City's Madras641!
Let me tell you what I like about this line's look: I don't see their designs anywhere else. I don't look at their clothes and say, "Oh I can get that at Forever 21." It's definitely a bold and sassy style perfected by the co-founders of the line, Subu and Ina.
Also, all their clothes are 100% cotton which I heart greatly. SO comfortable and easy to care for. The shirts are all high quality and I feel like I'm going to have them in my closet for years, instead of only one season like a lot of disposable clothing stores out there. M641 also uses wonderful trims such as lace, gauze, foils, satins, sequins and embroidery. In other words, each garment is unique and is perfected in its detailing. I always feel so feminine EVERY TIME I wear a shirt from this company. Plus, I always get countless compliments. ALWAYS! Please believe me when I tell you that wearing one of M641's shirts will do more for your self-esteem than a shot of Prozac. (And in this day in age, that's saying something! Maybe I should alert my HMO about this new remedy...)
Here are a few of the shirts I own from the Fall '07 and Spring '08 lines:
The blue and pink shirts have more detailing in them than any shirt I've ever worn in my life. I wish you could blow up the pic so you could see that the details are amazing. There is a silver thread woven in the fabric as well as darts and seams shaping the shirt into a perfect match for the feminine form. And the gray elephant tunic! This shirt is definitely outside of my comfort zone so when I chose it, I knew that I was taking a risk (for me). I wore it and I fell in love with it. I wore it to work with tight jean capris and silver flats. I think I was skipping down the hall at work at one point I was so happy. It's so flouncy and girlie and let me tell you, I don't own anything else like this, and yet, this is now one of my favorite pieces in my wardrobe.
(Sidenote: the pink shirt that I was wearing in the Grand Theft Auto spoof is a M641 shirt!)
So please check out their online store for their Fall '07 and Spring '08 lines!
1) Design! Detail! The prints! I LOVE THE PRINTS! I love the trims with the prints! AHHH! AHHH!
2) You can dress these looks up or down. Heels or flops. Pants or shorts. Leggings or jeans. I love versatility!! It makes everything more cost effective if I know I can wear it with many options and to different types of functions. (Which is important these days when the dollar doesn't go as far as it used to...)
3) I am going to say something that I never thought I'd say: EVERYBODY looks good in a tunic or babydoll shirt. I'm not kidding. Let's just say, it hides what it needs to hide and ahem... accentuates the positive.
Here is the online shopping site for the summer line:
So make sure to check out their website for more pics, info about local boutiques who carry the line, and read about the owners Subu and Ina. They are wonderful ladies who are following their "soul's goal" to wake up every morning and do what makes them happy, which happens to be making memorable high fashion for lovely ladies like you and me. (And if you check out the Fall '07 line, there are two men's shirts which are classic and awesome. Again, 100% cotton with amazing trim details.)
You can email Ina with any questions about sizing, prices, etc: ina@madras641.com
Since we are all so spread out over the world and couldn't all meet at the mall, I hope you enjoyed your cyber shopping trip with me. If it were in person, we would have hit Aunt Annie's for a pretzel and lemonade and you would have witnessed me yelling at at least one mannequin for A) wearing something that I like that I can't find it the store and B) telling said mannequin to eat a sandwich because it's waist is the width of my thigh and quite frankly is gross and wrong. I can really be a good time, right? Right? Right?!
Angry letters from Jennifer...
Current mood: pissed off
Category: Life
(NOTE:These letters are angry and a little politically charged. These letters are also my opinion. Articles pertaining to these letters' topics are at the bottom of this blog, just incase you aren't up on the issues. Have I mentioned that I'm angry!?? BAH!)
*******************
Dear China,
NO niceties for you! WTF, China? Really? You're getting pissed over the karma/earthquake comment Sharon Stone said with her big old mouth hole? Holy. God. People. I don't even know where to start. But I'll try...
First: Sharon Stone is an actor, not a politicalleader. (Although I know we Americans sometimes get that confused in our heads--and voting booths!-- as well.) That said, what she says should not be taken as an act of war or disrespect. It should be taken like a line of dialogue from a straight to DVD movie starring Jessica Simpson. In other words, it should be forgotten instantly, followed by several rounds of tequila just to make sure the memory is gone for good.
Second: In the US, we have this thing called freedom of speech. We get to say our opinions and nobody shoots us in the middle of the night. I know, it's radical and crazy talk in your country! But we have it, whether you like it or not, she was within her rights as an American citizen to say whatever she feels, be it politically correct or not. So neener, neener!
Third: You maaaaay have taken the American phrase "Sticks and Stones may break my bones..." a little too much literally, yes good.
Fourth: She showed her woman-nummies on screen for "art." (I have no idea how that pertains to this topic, but I had to say it cuz I was thinking it.)
Fifth: Who made her apologize? Was that you?? And if so, how does that work? Because if apologies are so big on your list, I'd like to let you know that I didn't get my "Sorry we invented the bird flu" card. I'm sure it's in the mail.
And last but not least...
I am truly sorry for the natural disaster your country has suffered. I read the articles and feel immense sadness for the loss of life your country has suffered. I feel bad for the survivors who have lost their families and their homes. I feel bad for the thousands of orphans who have emerged from this tragedy. But here's the deal: YOU gave Ms. Stone's words power and meaning.That's on you. You should stop taking what she says to heart. Lord knows Americans stopped a long time ago.
Still suspicious of your chicken, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Dunkin' Donuts,
You, sir, are an enormous donut hole. I'm embarrassed that I ever stopped into your establishment and enjoyed your confections. Why? 1.) Because you caved to bat-shit crazy alarmists who have nothing better to do than sit and analyze what people WEAR in frozen drink commercials. 2.) You let these people pressure you to PULL an ad with Rachael Ray because of "terrorist" overtones. (BTW, I wish I had that much time to watch TV! But I have a job that I go to everyday. And friends. And a life. And a brain.)
This is the scarf in question:
Apparently, it's been alleged that the scarf she's wearing looks like a kaffiyeh worn by "Muslim extremists." ????? And here I thought it was just an ugly scarf that got caught in the lint trap in the dryer and should be tossed on the Goodwill pile. I'm so naive.
To these alarmists, I really, really wish you would have posed the following question to them: Do you really think that we, Dunkin' Donuts, would seriously go out of our way to make our PAYING customers think, "Rachael Ray says, 'Jihad!'" instead of "I want an icy decaf!"?
Also, what if it WAS a kaffiyeh? Don't we have freedom of religion in this country? Isn't that one of the freedoms our country was founded on? Did I miss a memo?
I have to say, I'm irritated that you allowed the fear, anger and the war abroad to be brought onto our turf, Dunkin' Donuts. The fear of violence--no matter its country, race or religion of origin, etc.--scares me. And yes, it's something that I think about every time a plane that feels a little too close goes by overhead. HOW DARE YOU trivialize the real threats in the world by validating these alarmists' "claims." If you really did want to remind the world of terrorism by a garment, that's one thing. But you didn't and THAT is what matters here. It was just an ugly, paisley scarf that a wardrobe designer picked out for Ms. Ray to wear. PLAIN AND SIMPLE. I bet there were even production meetings about the "evil dooer" scarf before it even made it to the set as everything needs to be approved by 930482093 people in advance. Therefore, by pulling the ad you invalidated your workers who went to college to do their jobs and validated the inmates at the insane asylum. You told these people that paranoia is the right reaction and will be rewarded. (Who didn't love McCarthy-ism?) Good job.
So since "paranoid" is the new "black," I guess I should think about readjusting my thinking. I'm going to look for the next time someone wears the color red on TV. Obviously, they are a communist! Or when I watch "Soapdish" and Sally Field wears that turban? Obviously a terrorist as only terrorists wear turbans! And wooo! The next time I see a blonde on TV, wow. They are so going to jail because they are obviously a freakin' Nazi.
Thank you for clearing that up. I'm sure I'll live a better life now because of you.
Weekend letters from Jennifer...
Current mood: animated
Category: Life
Saturday, May 24th...
Dear Victoria's Secret Employees,
Hello! I had the pleasure of being in your (some-what slutty) establishment this weekend and I had the (unfortunate) pleasure of being stalked by a (loud) salesperson. And nay. Not just one. BUT EVERY SALES PERSON IN THE STORE.
The first salesperson greeted me. Okay, good! This is friendly and I appreciate this. I greeted her back with a smile. She then asked if I knew what I needed. I said, "Just shopping around," to which she said, "Really? Are you sure? I can help you!" and then STARTED TO FOLLOW ME. Victoria, I had to RUN away from your over zealous employee. But it doesn't stop there!
The next store employee tackled me and put a shopping bag in my hand. I am not kidding. She forced a black mesh carryall into my clenched little hand. To which I said, "If I need help I'll ask!" and then I had to RUN AWAY from her as well. (And I threw the bag back at her to further prove my point.) And then 10 seconds later another salesperson swooped in, "You doing okay? Can I get a dressing room started for you? Hmm? Huh? Yes? What size are you? Do you want underpants with that? Do you have a credit card? Do you want sweatpants that say 'Angel' on your ass? HMM? Yes?!"
Needless to say, I left the store in a hurry without even getting to sort through the cheap under-roos bin.
So, Victoria, is your secret that you need to issue a restraining order against your employees so that I can shop in peace and quiet?
A handful, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Granville Cafe,
Your service staff should read the letter above and find a happy medium between the two. Not seeing your waitress for over 45 minutes is NOT good service. But I should at least thank you for not hiring stalkers.
Moderation is key, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Tim Gunn,
I bought leggings today. PLEASE don't hate me.
Slobbing up America, Jennifer (Eolin)
Sunday, May 25th...
Dear Chronic Fatigue Syndrome,
UP. YOURS. Do you know how crappy it is to spend a whole day in bed or on the couch? It was barely tolerable this weekend because A) it's a three-day weekend so I still had two days to do things and B) I had a lot of good books to read. (And magazines!) But these last few weekends have been horrible. One day completely in bed. And not in the fun way. (TMI?)
But I'm working on getting rid of you even though my health insurance seems hell bent on making sure I remain asnooze. I decided to fight back and that meant going straight to Barnes & Noble. I bought a book called "From Fatigued To Fantastic" and I can't wait to read it, implement it, and then say good-bye to your sorry ass.
Until then I remain...
Fatigued and Furious, Jennifer (Eolin)
PS - Do you know if Barnes & Noble has "From Homely to Hottie"? I could use that one too...
Monday, May 26th...
Dear Breakfast Establishment 1,
If I ask to sit inside, do NOT seat me outside in the FREEZING COLD. It was 55 in the shade! I have no blood! I freeze at anything below 70. I specifically asked for indoor seating so I did not appreciate the raised eyebrow you shot in my direction when I re-told you this. So that's why we had to leave.
No bacon! Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Breakfast Establishment 2,
It's a HOLIDAY! You should have extended breakfast hours! Don't you know I need food? I hadn't eaten in over 15 hours and oh sure, don't look at me that way. I know all I had was some French toast and 6 sugar free popsicles. What do you mean that's not a meal?!? Don't judge me!
STILL no bacon for me, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Breakfast Establishment 3,
ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?! What do you mean I have to eat my food in my car? I just want to sit down after over an hour of running around trying to find food! You're closing early for the holiday?? It's LA! We're a 24-hour town! Fine. Fine! You win. But I will hold this against you forever and always point out this story whenever I drive past your establishment to whomever happens to be in my car.
Still no bacon, but settled for lox, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear George Lucas,
I WANT MY MONEY BACK. (And yes, I'd eaten by the point.) If Indiana Jones had a Tom-Tom and Orbitz, that movie would have been over in half the time. What's with all the talking about what they are about to do? Just DO IT. And how about opening the movie with an ACTION sequence instead of a trite "1950's" credit bed? I get it. It's the 50's. Your chyron helped me figure that out so the 10 minute opening was over-kill.
Remembering Howard the Duck, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Shia LaBeouf,
Mmmmm.
Married, but can still look, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Krispy Kreme,
Mmmmm. But for different reasons.
Thin, but worried about fat, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Veterans and current troops,
Thank you for protecting me and my rights to write ridiculous letters such as the ones above. Thank you for doing something that I am completely incapable of doing. Thank you for having the strength to leave your families and friends to go live in a strange land and risk your life so that I can stay here.
I value all the sacrifices everyone in our country's past and present (and future) have (and will) made/make. Not a day goes by that I don't think about how different our lives are. I hope that sometime soon, I can write a "welcome home" letter.
Letters From Jennifer...
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Life
Dear Madonna
Let's cut right to the chase: What's with all the crotch?
Now, while I'm glad that you are happy to celebrate your God-given Georgia O'Keeffe, I am very unhappy that it is EVERYWHERE. Billboards, magazines, even on the side of buildings. You should know that your GO'K is at least 4 stories high on the side of the Warner Bros. building. (Which, PS, makes your GO'K look fat.)
Second question: Why the leotard? Even the word "leotard" gives me the shakes and skivvies. And honestly, the way you wear them... Shudder!
Please just stop. Get into the groove and take a holiday from leotards and go back to being like a virgin. Because one more crotch shot will make me borderline postal. Because as a hardcore fan, I'm crazy for you, but not your woman junk.
Expressing herself, Jennifer (Eolin)
Dear Aetna Health Insurance Company,
Hello! I have so much to say!
First: Thank you for being so incompetent! You are nothing if not consistent in this arena; and in such topsy-turvy times, it's nice to be able to know that I can 100% count on you to let me down. That way, there are no surprises. (I hate surprises!)
Second: I really can't thank you enough for telling the pulmonary specialist that I need to see that I don't have insurance resulting them in canceling my appointment for next week. At first, I was angry and hurt, but then I realized, You're right, Aetna! What a clever white lie you told. I really don't need to figure out what's wrong with me. That's just selfish behavior on my part! How smart of you to figure that out. Plus, I shouldn't miss any work to take care of a health issue. I should just pay the $266 a month and not get any services for it. SMARTEST BUSINESS PLAN EVER. I don't know how you do it. Do you have ITT Tech grads planning your business stategery?
Third: I must thank you so much for denying me the tests for my heart that I foolishly thought I needed. (The cardiologist thought so too, but now I see that he's a quack!) Thank you SO MUCH for sending me a letter telling me that you think that I'm healthy and don't need them. If I'd known that you were able to make a diagnosis via parcel post without ever seeing me in person, I would have applied for that kind of care a long time ago. What a time saver! And cheap. Just 42 cents as a co-pay! Brilliant in these hard economic times. Absolutely brilliant.
Overall, I just want to let you know that I love having you as my HMO carrier. You really take care of me and you don't cause me an ounce of worry. I never break out into hives or instant migraines when I think about my health care. My life hasn't been compromised at all by what I thought was being sick. All the activities that I've missed and friends I haven't seen in the past 6 months were obviously trifles that I didn't need to attend/see. Thanks for sparing me those memories and good times.
Lastly, my parents, who are 3000 miles away, thank you too. They sleep so soundly knowing that their daughter's health is being cared for so generously and thoughtfully.
ANTM Scandal... Or just realizing that reality shows aren’t for reals
Current mood: amused
WARNING: If you have not watched the finale of "America's Next Top Model" turn back now as this blog contains spoilers. But seriously, I must congratulate you for not watching. You have all your brain cells in tact as a result! Me not so lucky muchly. (Drool.)
America's Next Top Model: Cycle 10 climaxed in a somewhat predicatable finale last night only to be followed by the extremely predictable scandal the very next morning. And no, it has nothing to do with why Paulina was wearing a tiara in public. (Although, can we address this issue please? A friend suggested that maybe Paulina wanted to be like Paula Abdul. I countered with, "I think Cougars just like their tiaras.")
Last cycle, the "day-after" scandal pointed out that Saliesha was a favorite of Tyra's as she'd gone to a camp that Tyra ran for aspiring models. (And by the way, her Cover Girl commericals are HORRIBLE. They are so bad that I have to watch them twice so I can make sure to laugh at every craptastic element.) According to those articles (that I'm taking as total fact), that's why Saliesha won and Chantal "I'm NOT Cheryl Tiegs!" did not.
And this year... Behold the scandal! "Juicy Booty" won!
Oh well. At least her Cover Girl commercials won't need subtitles. Too much?
So what does this prove? That "reality" that isn't reality at all. It's contrived and shot by non-professional actors for our amusement. But nonetheless, I will still blog about Project Runway as though its 100% real. You know, real just like PinkBerry only uses 100% real ingredients in their "food." (Yeeeaaah...) And speaking of PR, the NEW SEASON of Project Runway premieres on Bravo in JULY! Oh happiness!! And here's the 411 on Nina "I hate conditioner" Garcia. She is staying at Elle magazine until September so as to fullfill her contract with Project Runway. (She claims she has a fan base. Who? Rami??) She's titled as Editor At Large. (HAHAH! I thought of 12 butt jokes in 2.3 seconds.) After her stint with Elle is over, she'll move over to Fashion Editor at Marie Claire. (I'd love to know how people get fired and then hired into better jobs. PLEASE TEACH ME THIS SKILL.)
Until next time... Make it work! And if you can't, fake it!
Advice from the 80’s
Current mood: breezy
Category: Life
Today my mom stumbled upon a list that I wrote when I was only 9-years-old.And I must make a side note here: I LOVED to make lists as a child.Hooray for itemized organization!(BTW, I also loved to give notes to my friends that had questions with "yes," "no" and "maybe" boxes for them to check off.I would save the notes and hold their answers against them forever.Okay, so I was kinda a jerk back then.)Moving on…
The list she found was my "The Facts of Life" list.(I'm 9!It's not what you think!Perverts!)Now obviously I thought these truths were important enough to write down and put in a very important place (a random unlocked drawer), so I feel I should share the list with you, so that you may have a richer life.(No need to thank me, but I do accept cashier's checks…)
Ahem…
Item 1: You must take care OR pride of your stuff.
Ah, yes.Care OR pride.Not both.I obviously was too busy as a child (watching TV, picking my nose, dressing up the dog, bossing my little sister around, etc.) to be bothered with mustering up two emotions.And is anybody else impressed that I threw in a Deadly Sin as an option?Giggidy.
The vagueness of the word "stuff" is brilliant, however.What a wonderful loophole I found as a child.(I should have gone into politics, advertising or customer service.)I believe that even though I was young, I knew that I could use the vagueness of this rule to rationalize any situation to my benefit.
For example:
Mother:"Jennifer, come out here and pick up your toys."
9-year-old Jennifer: "Mother, PLEASE.Those are TOYS.They are not now nor will they ever be labeled as STUFF.Honestly, listen to your words.Furthermore, I care not for those peasant baubles.Please cast them off to that big-eyed little twit who calls me, 'Dalfer.'Dalfer!My name is JENNIFER.How hard is that?I think figuring out her problem is the bigger issue at hand."
Mother: "Jennifer, Sara is 4-years-old."
9-year-old Jennifer: "SOooOOooo?Dab nab it, woman. You're always defending her!Now leave me alone, I need to continue my mission to become Queen of the World.Kachum, kachum, kachum!"
Or this…
Mother:"Jennifer, don't play with this rag.I'm throwing it away."
9-year-old Jennifer: "But I want that!"
Mother: "It's an old rag your father used to shine shoes.It's going in the trash." 9-year-old Jennifer: "But it's mine!I was about to make it part of my cache of stuff!How could you be so horrible to me?"
Mother: "It's going in the trash." 9-year-old Jennifer: "But I care and/or have pride for that rag.WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME?!?!"
And people wonder why my parents went gray early in life.
Item 2:You must eat the right foods everyday.
HOORAY FOR MORE VAGUERIES!Obviously, as a 9-year-old the right foods were candy.And potato chips.And steak.And peanut butter.And baked potatoes with sour cream and spoonfuls of margarine.And bacon.Lots of bacon.I'd like to point out that as a 9-year-old, the "right foods" NEVER included lima beans, peas or cube steak.(GACK.)I'd also like to point out too that at one point I refused to eat my cauliflower unless it was dyed a fun color.I think once Mom dyed it blue just to shut me up.But I can't quite remember totally.I was too busy being an obstinate child about eating vegetables instead of forming a full memory so that I could blog about it in my 30's.See, I was a jerk, even to myself.
But this one is my favorite:
Item 3:You must make sure you have the right amount of change.
I think this shows that I've always been a bit of a nervous person.Poor me.I couldn't leave my house unless I knew that I had the right change for whatever big purchase I was going to make.(Barbie gets a new dress?What do 9-year-olds buy?)
I have a feeling this stemmed from my confusion over my father always telling waiters at restaurants to "keep the change."I thought this was standard.So I told a checker at the grocery store this once and Mom almost took my head off.So maybe I was under the misunderstanding that change was the consumer's problem?Or maybe I was lousy at counting coins so I just wanted to make sure I figured out the tax before I left the house on whatever item I was going to buy so I could have exact change.Either way, I think we can see that my nervousness (and controlling nature) started very early in life.
Let's fast forward to the present.If I were to make a list of "The Facts of Life" today, as an older and wiser 30-mumble-something-year-old gal, this is what that list would consist of (still not what you're thinking pervs!):
1:You must use lots of lotion w/ SPF whenever possible.
2:You must balance your checkbook.
3: You must get your heart smashed into a million pieces at least once.
4:You must get fired at least once.
5:You must lose to win.
6:You must love dogs. (Or cats…mostly dogs.)
7:You must wear clothes that match the occasion and do not embarrass the people around you.
8:You must help the elderly and give to charity.
9:You must laugh once a day, even if you don't mean it.
10:You must never EVER let anybody touch your stuff.
Oh, and an informal 11: Jennifer Eolin IS Queen of the World!
I never said I grew up, just that I'm older.Kachum, kachum, kachum!
Letters From Jennifer...
Current mood: bitchy
Category: Life
Dear Project Runway,
As your friend, Project Runway, I'd like to assert that you are turning into a colossal douche bag. Now, now. Don't shread your threads over this. I know it's rough and startling to hear typed out loud for the whole world to read, but somebody needs tell you if you're in or out and I'm just the ass... um... assertive friend (yes!) to do that.
Grievance 1: Trading in Bravo for Lifetime
Hmmm. Isn't that like trading in a valuable bar of gold for a cold lump of moldy papier-mâché? Did you put your fashion-forward thinking cap before making this (bad) decision? Because this union feels a bit impulsive to me. It seems like you had a drunk booty-call with Lifetime one night and you thought you were in the safe-harbor zone, but she lied and you got roped into a shot gun wedding. Am I close? Or was it just that she's loaded and desperate and will try harder to make you happy cuz you're the best she'll ever get? Either way, you are a dirty, dirty, dirty whore-nozzle.
Look. I don't mean to harsh on your new nuptials, but do you know who watches Lifetime (especially now since The Golden Girls has gone over to The Hallmark Channel)? 1) Grandmothers, 2) coma patients and 3) Valerie Bertinelli's mom and pet cat. On the flip side, do you know who doesn't watch Lifetime? Everybody else. I'm sorry, this just doesn't add up, just like Britney Spears' check book after an all-night bender on meth and chicken fingers at a Mercedes dealership.
Grievance 2: Nina "Meana" Garcia
Auf her ass already! Elle had the good sense to! She adds nothing to the show except a little static electricity in the hair area. And even that fails to spark interest.
Grievance 3: Letting the show runners stick with NBC/Bravo
PR, why don't you just set yourself on fire already??? You are obviously just calling out for help at this point. How are you going to survive this transition without the people who made you into who you are today? It's like when Tom Cruise fired his (smart) publicist and then hired his (batshit crazy) sister. Yeeeeah. Sometimes, there IS such a thing as BAD publicity. Did you see how Lions for Lambs did in theatres? Never hea
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