We got pills for that...

Sold all my books for front row tickets to dave matthews band...

2006-01-17T07:56:00.001-08:00

Although merely a song lyric, it's a brilliant idea. I'm more into Jack than Dave anyway.

Soo I havn't blogged in awhile. My pressing social life has imposed on the time I usually spend writing it all down. Since I've made the discovery that doing your laundry is remarkably boring, I'm back- so be excited.
So heres an update...
God love me, I decided to go to a Christian school.
Lordy. That was an interesting decision on my part... and heres why.
"The Liberty Way"
Featuring...the dress code (!!), curfew (!!!), and the heterosexually impartial theories of Jerry Falwell. Who I get the pleasure of hearing every wednesday morning at 10 am.
Home of the 3 second hug rule. (You cannot hug someone of the opposite sex for more than 3 seconds.)
The campus is not...terrible. It's not Harvard, but they do have a building named after the guy who wrote the Left Behind books, and another one that looks vaguely like that place in DC with the disturbingly enormous statue of Abe Lincoln.

You may be asking yourself, "Does Jessica really enjoy being one of Jerry's kids?"
Well my curious friend, the jury is still out on that one. As wierd and perverted as it may seem, yes I seem to be enjoying life in my 2 story trailer park.

"The imagination is one of the chief glories of being human. When it is healthy & energetic, it ushers us into adoration & wonder, into the mysteries of God. When it is neurotic & sluggish, it turns people, millions of them into parasites, copy-cats and couch potatoes."
--Eugene Peterson

Toast

2005-10-30T11:15:00.000-08:00

My family has strange tendencies, I wont say that my mother is a neat freak, but she does have her moments. The thing that shes the most adamant about is food being wrapped, closed and twisty-tied properly before its put into the refrigerator. Somehow toast does not apply. Its not uncommon for unwanted pieces of toast to be sitting in the toaster for over 24 hours. This baffles me to no end. Toast is such a disregarded food. Bread is the foundation to our entire food pyramid, yet in my family it is abandoned to fend for itself in a benign toaster. We are turning into a family of psudeo Aztecs, letting our food dangle in an appliance wondering if the lever will be pushed down and it will be sacrificed to the toaster gods. I suppose what I’m implying here is that bread has feelings too, I’m not entirely sure how I strayed so far from what I was originally trying to say which was that my family is strange. I guess through the winded path of this paragraph, I’ve only illustrated that I myself am weird.And for that I do not apologize.

Dineriffic

2005-10-18T19:26:00.000-07:00

Congratulate me, I've started my 12th job.
I'm thinking of printing myself a certificate of some sort,
The "I've Had A Job For Every Month" ...Award.

I'm hoping this new job at the diner will stick. When Hollywood makes my life into a movie they'll play the "Working Girl" theme song you'll see me walk into the diner, put on my apron. Then shots of mexicans, toothless 50 year old waitresses and coleslaw. Me taking orders and messing them up, getting $2 tips and standing in front of the computer pressing every button til I get to the right one. Then after a few more shots of me arguing with mexicans, towards the end of the song you see me getting $6 tips, balancing 16 plates on my arms and then finally we switch to Mary Tyler Moore and I'll be throwing my hat in the air...
Your gonna make it afterall!

There are some characters employed at this place let me tell you...
One girl, Teresa shes one of the few people whose around the same age as I am. However, she's taken to calling me 'peanut.'
I can't say I get the whole peanut thing. I dont look like I peanut, I don't eat lots of peanuts, so why am I being referred to as a peanut?
Teresa: I've been waitressin' for 6 years now.
Me: mmhmm.
Teresa: You got a cigarette?
Me: no.
Teresa: Are you one of those straight edge pricks who hasn't ever tried a drug in their life?
Me: *thinking of a way to answer that
Teresa: Ever tried coke? Best drug ever, I used to be fat, I lost 67 lbs on it. Had to go to rehab for two years though. Worth it.

Alright. This girl works 50 hours a week because she supports herself. She wants to quit college because its a waste of her time. She thinks its respectable to have a baby at 17 as long as your raise it. She wants to be successful and rich one day. Not sure how shes planning on doing that though. Maybe shes working on the formula for the money tree shes going to grow in her backyard, or maybe she'll find a wealthy man who will want to marry a waitress who has been to rehab and still does drugs, smokes, and never went to college.

But yes, I suppose I am a prick.
What are you going to do?

Please allow me to state the obvious...Rain Sucks.

2005-10-14T07:28:00.000-07:00

Days til' someone needs to start building an ark: 31

I'm sick of walking out of my house and being attacked by millions of small pellets of condensed precipitation decesending from the sky.
I'm also tired of driving in it. On pleasant valley rd. there are alot of hills and valley, obviously. The up's are just peachey, but on one particular down there were geese gayly swimming about what had become a ghetto pond.
Geese.
Anyone who knows me is fully aware that I despise nature. (for the most part.) With the exception of the beac, but even then I don't really like sand- or salt- or the animals that reside in the water. In fact, my uncle bought me a hunting T-Shirt because I've been donned "deer slayer." Not because I enjoy hunting (I would never go hunting because I'd have to trapse through the woods) but because I've hit many a deer in my day with my hearty vehicle. By accident
Bitter? Maybe.
What do you do when you see a flock of geese gayly swimming about in what had become a ghetto pond while your on the cell phone complaining about the fact that its been raining for 9 days?

psh... complain more

You learn something new everyday...

2005-10-12T14:44:00.000-07:00

I was in my Intro to Business class, and Diabetes was brought up. Because of course diabetes has everything to do with business...

Who knew people with diabetes lost their toes?
and fingers occasionally?
when I heard this I immediatly raised my hand, leaned over my desk towards the front of the room, and said
"Whaat??"

Because I definetely did not know that. I gotta say that information struck me as slightly appaling. Considering the obesity "epidemic" which has bitzkrieg'd our fine nation, should I expect a bunch of old, fat, toeless, fingerless people weebleing their way around in the next few decades?
Ha, just take a moment... its "lets make a mental picture time with Jessica"
Picture an ugly person
Now picture an ugly old person
Now picture an ugly old fat person
Now picture an ugly old fat person, except take away their fingers and toes.

I know..one way ticket to hell but hah, thats not pretty.
I should go into the diabetic shoe business, in a few years I'll make a killing. Those puppies sell for $600.00 per shoe. Thats priceir than Jimmy Choo.
Ha, I made a rhyme.

Nip/Tuck

2005-10-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

How disturbing is that show? Not even for obvious reasons, but that carver guy scares the hell out of me. I'm afraid of whats behind me for the next two weeks. I was gonna put a picture of the carver to illustrate my point, but I don't want that to taint my blog.
I'm like a mosquito going into the light, i know that show will put me into a perpetual skittish state, but I just can't not watch it.
Horrible.

I Should Just Move To Australia

2005-10-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

This morning around 8 am I realized two things,
1. I had forgotten to get my work hours for the week
2. I had forgotten to finish reading the material for my Economics test, well not so much forgot more that I just didn't do it.

At 8 am my cerebellum is not fully functional, or funtional at all for that matter. Think of a lake on a fall morning, theres usually a haze of fog grazing the surface of the water.
Thats like my brain at 8 AM, the information is all there but its clouded. Except my brain in the morning is not quite as majestic as a large body of water being graced by early morning fog.
They tell me its more along the lines of wet noodles shaped like a pigskin

8:00 AM- 8:05 AM
I called work at and got my hours, apparently I was supposed to be in today from noon- 5pm.
Not a problem.

Wait.
Yes...That is very much a problem.
My Economics test starts a noon.
Crap.
8:07 AM Realized I had a potential problem
Let me inform the unaware, I havn't worked for the past 2 weeks because after studing I need a certain amount of time to slack off and recover, working was cutting into that time.
To give Express the credit they deserve, I did switch my wednesday morning class to monday afternoon.
This is a predicament, perhaps I could become an Omnipresent Spirit and be in two places at once.

8:21 AM
Quit my job because I needed to take the test.
Now at least 50% of you are thinking this was irrational, however there are far more complexities than what im presenting you with.

8:23 AM
Hindsight kicks in.
That might have been a bad move.
Crap.

So then I took a self test online for Unit I, just to make sure I knew at least something that would be on the test and I got a 60%.
Whoa. Man.
I freaked out.

8:46 AM - 8:52 AM Freaking Out
Most people who receive a score like that on a practice test, consider it a premenition. They use the 3 hours they have to spare before class and try to cram as much info into their little brains as possible. That is what normal freaking out looks like.
No, not me. I watched 2 hours of TV before I showered and shulmped off to class.
It was all very depressing.

8:21 AM- Noon
I was a jobless-smartless individual, I listened to EMO music the whole way there.

So I get to school and the parking lot was so full that I had to park not one, but two parking lots away.
I was so late that it didn't even make a difference anymore, so I figured why the hell not and went to get a soda from the vending machines before I went to class.
Yeah, it exploded all over me.

Noon- 12:15 Bitter.
Bitter, and plotting revenge to the Pepsi company. Ready to sue because I experienced pain when carbonated sugar and aspertame splashed enthusiastically in and around my eyes.
Jerks.

I would've run back to my car to change my shirt if it wasnt a 5k run away.
Maybe I could have said i was running for future people who will get cancer from Diet Coke, and someone would have sponsored me, then I could have sent the money the same day I sent my letter of bitterness that would be designed to strike fear into the heart of the Pepsi company.
But no, I went degectedly to take my friggin test.
And I took it.
EVERY SINGLE QUESTION WAS THE SAME AS THE PRACTICE TEST I TOOK!
Holy mother of God.

I got an A+

You know what really grinds my gears?

2005-10-09T22:03:00.000-07:00

When an individual's voicemail is music. You know who you are with that ridiculous Mariah Carey song on your answering machine. Mariah's voice pierces through the static/fuzz and travels directly into my eardrum, and stays there.
Ridiculous.
Or when it rings...and rings
"Hello?"
Me: Hey! Its Jess..."Kidding...leave a message" ...ica...i'm dumb.
This is reverse creativity at its finest... It was something that maybe was funny the first time some very funny person decided to do it 5 years ago. Now, it is so overdone, that it is ...Reverse creativity. Or mooched creativity.

Listen to me, a voicemail message just needs to tell me I called the correct number. I also know to talk at the beep. Trying to use your voicemail as a creative muse is just going to give others something to mock.

You Gotta Do Whatchu Gotta Do

2005-10-03T05:45:00.000-07:00

Everyone has had that urge at one time or another in his or her life.
That insatiable desire.
It comes when you’re in a setting that requires your attention and silence. However there’s that one person (within arms reach) that falls asleep. We aren’t talking chin down old man in church doze, I’m saying full out comatose state.
And you don’t just want to poke this person- you need to.
Especially if they’re either snoring or drooling, that’s the best.
You start to fight with yourself, mostly because you’re bored but partially because you never know whats going to happen when you rouse someone by way of the ‘poke.’
You turn to this person and see his ears, you could be creative and poke him in the ear with a pencil or something. But you never want to inflict pain on our sleeping beauty, for fear that he will awaken with a very, very loud
“OW WHAT THE F**K!”
That would just be embarrassing for the both of you. You've now become an instant center of unwanted attention.
You’d have to sit there and look straight to the front like nothing happened, meanwhile this person's eyes are burning into the side of your head with a look of disgust and contempt, well depending on how loud he was, maybe not disgust and contempt but at the very least irritation.
You can’t look back at this person, because on the inside your exploding with laughter and you’re starting to make that duck sound people make when they are trying not to laugh, but a bit of laughter spits out.
Crap you looked.
But despite the looks directed at you from whoever your listening to talk at the front of that room you’ll never..ever wish you didn’t poke them, because how great was that?

The Sign of the Apocalypse

2005-10-02T17:08:00.000-07:00

My little brother is a guy with Beatles/Oasis shaggy hair, often mistaken for a surfer, who is suddenly a foot taller than I am.
He's trying to wish me out of this house so he can turn my room into his personal den but other than that we get along surprisingly well. Mostly because he knows his life is good because of the path I've cleared for him. I've leveled my parents down from communist dictators to prime ministers of their socialist nation. 10 years from now when my little sister is 17 it'll suck for her because they'll have gone full circle to facists. She'll have a 7 pm curfew on the weekends, (please, she has 3 older siblings, you know one of us will end up in rehab within the decade, that'll just kill all the work I've done)
Since I only go to class 16 hours a week, we've been seeing alot of each other. One morning while we were both bent over frosted flakes, I sorted the mail from the day before and I found a letter from College Board.
Me: Ha. Ha. You have to take the S.A.T's, sucks. for. you.
My Brother: *shakes the hair out of his face* Whatever
Me: You have to take the S.A.T's and I don't.
My Brother: Yeah well you go to Brookdale and I don't
Me: Touche'
Me again: What if you failed
My Brother: Then that would suck
*Can't you feel the apathetic atmosphere?*
Me: Maybe you'll get a perfect score

There was a momentary silence, he looks at me with a straight face and says,
"If I get a perfect score, that means the Apocalypse is coming."
I did not expect that answer at all.
Fabulous.

Chapter 3

2005-09-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

Who Needs Kindness?

Preparing ourselves for church was a production that would inevitability bring out my mother’s worst qualities. Each week she got dangerously close to strangling each and every one of her four children who she claimed to love 6 days a week; on Sunday, we were my father’s. Ironically he was the one family member who was never part of the vigor. On any given Sunday morning you could see him sitting on our green leather couch. His face would be cradled in his hands and there would be an open bible resting on the ottoman in front of him. I used to think he was praying, that of course would deter my brothers and I from bothering him. Now that I’m older I truly believe he was sleeping.
I must give him the credit he deserves for such a cunning strategy. Not once did he have to turn the house upside-down looking for a pair of patent-leather mary-janes, a clip-on bow tie, or a pair of those ridiculous ruffle things that I had to wear under my dresses.
At exactly 9:05 every Sunday my younger brother William and I would dash to the light blue mini van, “calling” our seats as we ran. During the winter months my brother was always in a very puffy jacket, which altered his center of gravity. Not unlike Ralphie’s little brother in A Christmas Story. Those were the days when I would always get my choice seat because William was easily pushed over along the way. It wouldn’t hurt him or anything- he had padding. My mom would get quite irritated but she was a woman on a mission, and she was too busy to put any punishment into effect. We would get to church on time if it was the last thing we did. Sacrifices on the way?
Fine.
As long as we got there.

Rubbing the sleep sand out of my eyes, I walked into the box of a Sunday school room. Upon entrance, you were unfailingly attacked by the smell of mildew. No matter how much cleaning was done. It grows on you after awhile. A new “W.W.J.D” poster had taken up a small portion of the bland, eggshell white walls, and the long rectangular faux wood folding table was surrounded by my equally primped and tired peers. I took the seat next to Danielle that she had secured for me.
Both Danielle Ash and I were born into the Baptist society of gossip, casseroles, and gossiping while eating casseroles. The majority of our lives were spent filling up the backs of bulletins with commentary on the latest Mary-Kate and Ashley mystery movies. We spent so much time at church that Danielle even had her 5th birthday party in the fellowship hall. Where Barney arrived in his full-sized glory and scared the bee-jeezus out of me. I was always that little kid who went into hysterics when one of those 7 foot tall puppet monstrosities showed up. Oh, and I’ve always been jealous of Danielle’s naturally curly hair, it forms these perfect little spirals, I just want to chop it off.
Mr. Bachelle was our 4th grade Sunday school teacher. A weekly combination of varied brown polyester suits, straight from the 70’s, and cowboy boots, were only part of what made him eccentric.
He told at the head of the table, placed his hands like a steeple underneath his chin, and looked at us intently.
“You’ll be pairing up. Every week one pair will be performing a skit on a bible story to the rest of the class.”
I’m not sure if he was just lazy, but when he announced the project, I distinctly remember my first thought being, “why can’t he just teach it himself?” If we did well apparently we’d get munchkins and if we did bad, then well I’m sure our parents would hear about it and that would defiantly not equal the munchkiny goodness that we so desired. In addition, Ryan Vanderland had joined our class. Ryan Vanderland- object of my teeny-bopper desire. He had a lazy eye so Danielle and I could never quite tell who he was talking to, but man, when he learned to restrain his iguana-like tendencies, he was a cutie.
Next Sunday Danielle and I came equipped to perform the Good Samaritan. We schlepped into the classroom carrying plastic shopping bags full of costumes and Mcdonalds ketchup packets serving as fake blood. Danielle was going to be the injured man on the side of the road, and I would play everyone else.
Shes never been the daring one out of our pair, although I’ve won over her parents in the past decade, back then I was a “bad influence”. I’m not sure how much influence a 4th grader can have on another 4th grader, but studies show crack cocaine usage in the 2nd grade is up 15%. The Baptist church is like one 136 person game of telephone. It starts out with my mother saying,
“Oh, Jessica…she took a piece of gum from my purse.” Before the sermon is over I’m wanted in the tri-state area for robbing a candy store. The bottom line is that I wasn’t really a bad kid, however, the adjective “imaginative” was used in conjunction with my name often.
At any rate, when I showed Danielle her spot on the orange Berber carpet, she protested because (God forbid) she wrinkle her dress. There was no convincing her that a person who had just been robbed and beaten would not be sitting upright in a folding chair with her hands politely placed on her lap. I made the executive decision that I would be the injured guy. Danielle protested because she claimed that she didn’t know the lines. Which sounded quite ignorant to me at the time because what kind of ninny couldn’t just make up something? In the end we switched because I would have no such nonsense.
The skit started, Danielle grabbed the wiffleball bat, and headed towards me from the other side of the room, narrating as she approached. It hadn’t occurred to me that when Danielle came along to beat me up, she was going to spurt ketchup all over me. That Wednesday my Mom had taken me to the Limited Too, and bought me a new white dress. It was very twirly, most excellent I must say. When I had thought up the ketchup idea, I didn’t really care if I gobbed it up on Danielle, but her ruining my dress is an entirely different story altogether.
I tried to get her attention by waving my arms, anything short of smoke signals. She paid no heed. All I got was weird looks from Ryan, or maybe Danielle was getting weird looks, who really knows? As she came closer and closer I realized- man, she was going to cover me in ketchup.
Not Cool.
The whole moment went by very fast, it was like watching a car accident. In the end not only had my dress been ruined but she’d thought it would add a little something if she had put some ketchup in her had and smeared it on my face. Ketchup flowing through your respiratory system is never a pleasant experience. In a sporadic act of retaliation I smacked her in the face with a Bible. I didn’t think I’d hit her with much force, but she threw herself into hysterics claiming to need an ambulance, which made me want to hit her again because really, who says that?
Mr. Bachelle bounded from his chair, removed the Bible from my iron grip, and assured Danielle that no permanent damage had been done. He also tried to make some sort of joke regarding Marsha Brady but I didn’t think it was very funny at the time. We were both promptly exiled to the adult Sunday School class for the remaining time. This was unprecedented. Mr. Bachelle had threatened such a source of action, but there had never been a follow through.
The moment Danielle and I slipped into the adult Sunday school, every head turned in our direction. Depending on the individual we either got a smirk or a gasp of concern.We looked like we’d just Red Badge of Courage’d ourselves out of a war. Conveniently our parents were sitting next to each other, they covered their confusion with apathy as Danielle and I sat ourselves down into the cold metal folding chairs and exchanged looks.
How can you exchange a look with someone who you just smacked in the face with a Bible because she sprayed you with ketchup during the performance of the Good Samaritan…and not laugh.
We nearly got kicked out of the adult Sunday school class too.
That was the day my mother taught me the meaning of irony, and she suggested that I do the skit over. It wasn’t really a suggestion of course; the next Sunday the second performance went quite smoothly. Danielle and I were discussing “back in the day” on the way to blockbuster last week and Ryan Vanderland came into the conversation. How unfortunate that he moved to Texas not long after starting at Calvary Baptist, he was a military brat, so he wasn’t around for long.mainly I learned that physical abuse with a holy text is never the answer.

I've Been Bamboozled!

2005-09-20T19:57:00.000-07:00

Yes. its true.
Man, today sucked royally.
I got this fabulous new shirt, white with lace and such.
I wore it out one single time, and it wasn't even for that long, after wearing it I had just discarded it onto my floor, being the slob I am. What can I say... I consider my disregard for organization to be an endearing quality.
Last night I grabbed it up off my floor and threw it in "the knit cycle" (I never knew there was such a thing! Most excellent.)
When I took the load out of the dryer this morning I was in a huge rush, I'd taken more time than I had intented loitering over my coffee and had forgotten to print out my english paper that was on a floppy disk that holy crap I had no clue as to where it could be.
Whatever so I get everything together, didn't even have time to go to my room and change, I just got dressed in the office, and was out the door.
I get halfway to class and wouldn't you know...
theres a hole in the front of my shirt.
It looks like a faux belly button.
Ugh.
Then! I look closer and there are stains...all over it!
I dont recall ever being drunk or drinking, but who even knows because I don't have a clue as to how they got there.
The magical stain fairies and hole elves must have come and attacked my shirt.
After the initial unhappiness I got over it, and tried to convince myself it looked vintage.

Later today I get to work, the last place I wanted to be.
I so passionately did not want to be there that I actually considered quitting,
then i realized how foolish that was and I just pouted.
I'm very unattractive when I pout...or at least thats what my mother tells me.
At any rate I was seriously bamboozled, somebody walked there little selves into my store and stole apx. $1000.00 worth of merchandise.
Which honestly is crappy for me because, essentially my job is to guard the front of the store, I'm that annoying girl who follows you around asking if you need anything.
I'm sorry.
Anyway, so I guess I didn't deliver "EXCELLENT CUSTOMER SERVICE!" or whatever chipper nonsense they want me to do.
Ignorant people.
Eh, sorry I'm not feeling particularly sarcastic today my pop culture references are lacking.
I have an excellent anticdote about some idiot who came into the store the other day that'll probably be my next post. Be excited

I Have A Dream...

2005-09-17T22:39:00.000-07:00

Man.
Last night I had a dream that gas was $1.00.
Thats frickin sad, I'm sorry but there are much better things I could spend my dreams on, one of them being an all-year round Ritas.

I still wish I had a flying carpet-
then I wouldn't have to buy gas.

P.S. I totally got facebook, poke me!

Silly Geese!

2005-09-09T20:34:00.000-07:00

After hours at work we have to go through all the clothes, sizing etc... which is actually the best part of the shift because their are no jerk-face customers who ravage through your perfectly sized piles and leave heaps of inside-out clothes in the dressing room. Oh, and why is it so hard to take the clothes you tried on out of the dressing room? I try to use my volcom mind control to will you into picking up after yourself, but it doesnt work.
What kind of slob are you that you can't simply hang up clothes and walk 3 feet with them so you leave the dressing room looking like some natural disaster ripped through. Do you all not realize that we 'sales associates' remember these things about you, how are you not embarassed to go back into the store again?
Leave me comments on the topic.

Anyway back to what I was saying, while we were cleaning up the store trying to figure out what a C.S.L could possibly be (I concluded that its a Capitalist Loving Stuff)
I heard one of my male colleagues randomly declare out of my line of sight
"I love Laguna Beach!"
Me: *from the other side of the store* What guy just said that?
*silence*
Me: Reveal yourself!
Matt: Me, I love that show
Me: Ugh
Matt:Don't you?
Me: No
Matt: So, your one of those...
Me: One of those people who are sick of seeing beautiful rich people trapse around my TV? Yes...yes I am, I see too much of that nonsense in real life. I want to see ugly poor boring people on TV, I demand the production of a show about those who are ugly homeless and old. That would be most excellent.
Matt: Ugly poor boring people? Go watch this season of Real World.
Me:Touche'

I love Real World, well not last season they were so dull, but in general I do.
I agree with his sentiment -but that Danny kid (who got his eye punched out, and whose Mom died) fricking makes the show. You gotta feel bad for the kid.

Ahh I have yet to write about my first week of college, read me tommorrow lovelies.

Why Isn't Life Like Mashed Potatoes?

2005-09-06T18:24:00.000-07:00

My first day of class! I had to write this in an hour but I thought it turned out well for a spur of the moment paper...

Jessica B...
Eng 121-096
Professor G...
Why Isn't Life Like Mashed Potatoes?

Quinessential New Jersey suburbia is completely underrated, especially in the fall when the color pallette changes and kids are going back to school. The neighborhood I grew up in was tireless, kids on bikes and skateboards created a mobile obstacle course for all drivers. Constantly annoying my Mom when she had to navigate her blue mini van home to the best house ever. When I went back to visit it recently I couldn’t believe how small it was. Barn house red with a daffodil-lined walkway leading up to the front porch. Whoever currently lived there had taken down the porch swing, how unfortunate for them.

When my parents unexpectedly announced over dinner that we were moving out of the best house ever, to what was defiantly not the best house ever, my eleven year old mind was boggled. They were ripping my heart out and doing the Mexican hat dance on it.

Luckily I'd learned at an early age that arguing with your parents is undisputedly the most counter productive activity any individual can engage in. I believe that this knowledge granted me at least a month of life that cumulatively would have been spent in my room. I stared at my mashed potatoes, using my fork to make little canals while deciding on a plan of action.
Potatoes are a funny thing; I never really saw them as being a vegetable therefore making them entirely acceptable dinner food. But what’s really cool is the fact that you can smash them, draw faces, and create various landscapes then erase it all and start over. If only life was like mashed potatoes. You see, I’ve always been an avid reader, giving me ridiculous ideas that were executed with very little thought. My mother is a tremendously stressed individual. If life had been like mashed potatoes on that fall day I could have hit my rewind button on life’s VCR on the way to the emergency room.

When I drove back to see the best house ever, 7 years after the day I’d moved. (Fondly nicknamed Dooms Day, it was January, and that very day was the start of a huge blizzard. I’d been convinced it was a sign.) The first thing I did was gaze through the rusty chain link fence and look up at my beloved tree house. My Dad, Uncle and Grandfather had spent many long Saturdays slaving over their project while I watched and gave directions. Eventually they got tired of my dictatorship and made me go garage saleing with my grandmother on Saturdays.
I’m an expert at convincing my parents to do what I want, with minimal effort. After reading Swiss Family Robinson I was sure I would not be able to go on with my life without a tree house. So I crusaded for my cause. I got out paper and spent hours creating the blueprint to my perfect treehouse. I wrote down all the supplies I would need, and even estimated the cost, trying to figure out if I could pay for it out of my allowance. Conveniently I’d concluded that we would only need wood, nails, a hammer and curtains, all for the low, low price of fifteen dollars. Provided everything was on sale, as well as taking into account that we already had a hammer. I put out some cookies, sat down my parents and began my presentation.

My Dad was an easy target, however my Mom was worried that I would fall climbing down, resulting in a long yellow slide protruding from the left side.

When it was completed, I covered it with crepe paper and announced the grand opening. I think briefly I’d named my treehouse Wednesday, however my friends had informed me that any tree house named Wednesday was stripped of all dignity, and why was I naming my treehouse? Officially it was named Jessica the Second, if anyone said they didn’t like that name then I would have to take personal offense, who is going to tell me my own name is stupid?

The two years after the birth of Jessica the Second were excellent. I assembled a bookshelf for myself and would sit up in Jessica the Second every afternoon. I even tried installing a lamp behind my Mom’s back, using 4 extension cords. Apparently that’s not so good if it rains, who knew?

Watching my ‘juvenile’ (I was homeschooled, my Mom stopped the vocabulary lessons after it got to the point where she never wanted to hear the word juvenile again) little brother play with his refrigerator box, popping out with excessive glee every so often, proclaiming that he’d scared us all, caused me to roll my eyes and shake my head with such dramatics that eventually I was forbidden from doing that as well. For fear my face would “stay like that”

7 years later, Jessica the Second had been stripped of its glory. A faded Italian flag was draped over the entrance, and the wood had started to warp to a dingy gray. I realized that after we moved, my escapades had essentially come to a close. Although during my childhood I’d had more than my fair share of trips to the doctor, in fact I’d been something of a hypochondriac. (Again, too many books) My most recent was the day I’d found out we were moving.

I went on strike.

There was no way I was leaving behind the best house ever and Jessica the Second. I would have no such ignorance, clearly my parents heads had been filled with nonsense by the television or something. After dinner that night I promptly brought out a warm blanket, pillow and food provisions outside, prepared to stay up there for as long as it took. Going to the bathroom had crossed my mind as a potential problem, so I sent the boxes of grape Juicy Juice flying down the slide and watched them sink into the pile of leaves I’d raked in front of the bottom of the slide.

It also occurred to me that I should have made signs of some sort to picket with. Oh well.

It took approximately two hours for my parents to realize I was gone. However I’ve always had a skewed sense of time perception when I’m bored, so in reality it could have been 10 minutes. At any rate, they marched out of the house and wearily asked what I thought I was doing.

“I’m not moving.” I announced, using as firm of a voice as I could muster.
My parents shrugged and walked back inside the house.

I must say this was the most confusing moment of my childhood. They’d never done this before! What the heck…they are going to leave me here? To sleep?

I panicked. Racking my brain for something, anything that I could possibly do to affect these people. I needed shock value, and fast because I was getting cold. Then it came to me, my epiphany. The stupidest thought I have ever had.

I swung myself upside-down on the rope ladder that I used to climb into Jessica the Second. Hanging by my knees, my head dangling about 5 feet from the ground. Clearly that was the most prudent thing to do. As I stared my parents in the face I felt the blood rushing to my head, and saw the blood rushing to theirs as well. They had defiantly been thrown for a loop, no doubt about that.

“If you don’t promise we won’t move, then I am going to drop myself onto my head.” Obviously I lived by the theory that I was invincible. My parents tried to decide whether or not I was bluffing.

“And don’t say we won’t move so that I’ll get down, but then we move anyway. Because then you are a liar and then I can lie whenever I want.” I added.

William and Christine Beckett are really very nice people, they are well liked and they are fabulous parents. But good ol’ Bill and Chris gave each other looks, trying to find an answer. But they were taking to long. I felt dizzy. They say it’s not the fall that hurts, but it’s when you hit the ground. They’re right.

Now I have a bump on my lip where it had hit a rock and split open. You can’t really see it anymore, after 14 it wasn’t visible. Thank God, because it looked like a zit.

Who Doesn't Love the Beach?

2005-09-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

My parents left for the beach house early Friday morning, leaving me with the house to myself for the weekend. I'd asked Danielle to stay a few nights, but she deserted me to baby-sit her niece and nephew in Connecticut. Staying in my house all alone for 3 days wasn't at all appealing to me, so 5 am Saturday morning I packed my stuff and made record time going down.
I havn't had time to crap lately (much less blog about it) so a weekend of nothingness is always appreciated.
Crack of dawn I was ready to leave for NJ. Even though they are anti-morning people, my grandparents had come out to the car to see me off, which was excellent because I got some cash and directions.

Poppop: So when you get off the bridge don't take the first turn keep going and take the second turn. Because if you take the first turn you'll end up in Philadelphia.
Me: Uhm..Ok. With my luck I'll end up in Philadelphia anyways

**Now, my grandmother's mother(Mommom J) is still alive, and my grandfathers mother (Mommom B) recently died. My great grandmother's houses are about 10 minutes from each other, and we havn't sold Mommom B's house yet, and we've been spending a great deal of time there lately.

Amie: Well if you end up there, just call your grandmother
Poppop: Uhm. I dont think anyone will answer
Amie: Bill! I obviously ment the one that is not dead. *Laughs at Poppop*
Poppop: I'm going to go get some coffee...

It sounds awkward but it was really very funny.
Maybe you had to be there...

So Long Sweet Summer

2005-09-02T11:24:00.000-07:00

My summer is fleeting, wasn't I just throwing my graduation cap up into the air? and listening to that ridiculous Brittany Komack make her last speech.(thank God)
You know its been a good summer when your pennies are all stuck to the bottom of your cupholders from all the melted Ritas build-up. Not just any pennies, but the only money to your name. Those pennies are my only asset. Managing to go for the whole summer without ever finding employment was an accomplishment at the very least. However I had an excellently apathetic summer...and you can't beat that.

I didn't find the summer love I'd hoped for, quite the opposite in fact, yet I was quite content living vicariously through my friends. Isn't everyone?

The house Upstate is officially gone forever having been purchased by Bob and Sue. I didn't realize how sad I would actually be about that. I've been going there since I was in the womb, and I can't tell a lie, I got a little weepy when I heard it was sold. But I got to take a knome out of th garden, and I named it Colby. (its axe wielding)
My Dad is back living with us (yeah again) -mixed emotions on that subject. All I know is that there is now excessive amounts of halfway assembled Ikea furniture laying around. My toe has been stubbed one to many times.

I discovered Gabe, a guy I've known since I was 10, and had only exchanged pleasantries with for the past 8 years. Who knew he was actually cool? He's passionate about Taco Bell, and dates one of my best friends. What more can you ask for?

I never finished my novel, actually I've more or less abandoned it for the time being in order to pursue a better storyline Gabe and I are corroborating on. Perhaps we'll set up a seperate blog for it.

Class of 2005, I will miss you all...expect me to come crash your dorms during my nationwide college tour (coming soon to a blog near you)

Tommy: Did ya hear I finally graduated?
Richard: Yeah, and just a shade under a decade too...alriiight.
Tommy: Ya know a lot of people go to college for seven years.
Richard: I know. They're called doctors.
-Tommy Boy

"Ritas or Bust"

2005-09-01T20:44:00.000-07:00

Sorry to deny you an original blog by Jessica, however I was going to blog about this but Gabe beat me to the punch.
So here is Gabe's account of Sunday night.

"Rita's Italian Ices, what's the matter with these people?

Jessica and myself in order to avoid having to be in the nursery at our church for an excessive amount of time decided we'd go on a fast food run and our route was outlined as such: Taco Bell, Burger King and Ritas Italian Ices.

After a little confusion at Taco Bell and a hullaballoo at Burger King our trip seemed over and i was sad, but then jessica remebered.

Jessica: Ahhh, we forgot Rita's
me: very well then, TO RITA'S!!!
Us: arrive at ritas
Jessica: Ok, Danielle (still back at the nursery) likes root beer with vanilla custard, so you stand in that line and i'll stay here and we'll see who gets there first
me: Um... What's vanilla custard?
Jessica: **walks over to me; Gabe you're hopeless.

So after a ruckus made by the soccer mom in front of us about her ice cream not being the right consistancy or some nonsense it was our turn.

Jessica to cashier: Ok, I'll have a rootbeer with vanilla custard and ummm... a brownie gelati.
me: (I'm paying for all this of course) What? She's going to eat two?
Jessica: No, the brownie is for me
me: Brownie's are supposed to be warm and fudgy
Jessica: psh, noo
me: Whatever

I figure since everyone else is getting one I might as well so i get a lemon ice, after the girl looked at as funny we finally got our order straight and marched off. It was a good 85 degrees that day so jessica gets a brilliant idea.

me: I dont see what the point of this is, they're just going to melt
Jessica: NOT IF I CAN HELP IT!!!

She turns on the air conditioner full blast, and that is one hell of an air conditioner. It was so cold in the car that it fogged up in the car. It didn't help, the ices melted anyway.
So we arrive at church and begin our march to the church with all our food and make our way into the nursery and start passing out the food to Danielle and Kait.

Kait: Thank god
Jessica and me: yes, lets eat (everyone starts eating, except Danielle)
Danielle: Where's my Diet Coke?
Jessica and me together: HMPH? (with bits of Gordita and Chicken Fry flying out of our mouths)
Danielle: Yea, all i wanted was a Diet Coke, i told you guys before you left
Me: WHAT? the whole reason we had to endure Jessica's car/meat locker was because we thought you wanted Rita's, man we could've just gotten you a soda at Burger King with smurfette
Danielle: (reaches over for the coke with my chicken fries meal) Psh, well, i got a soda now

So that night, I found myself one soda short and me and Jessica learned a lesson, from now on, we buy food for no man and never again will we go to Rita's Italian Ices."

___________________________________________

"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"
-Alice in Wonderland

Can't Touch This

2005-08-31T18:10:00.000-07:00

It has been brought to my attention that I'm fluffy.
Apparently.

Not fluffy like a dog
...or a cloud.
"I write about fluff, my writing is fluff."
this is what I've been told.

I'm assuming I should resent that (you know what happens when you assume)- yet I don't, simply because my last post was devoted to my on going crisis on how to cut my hair, and the post before that contained a picture of a smurf.

I am blatantly fluffy.

Don't go searching though my comments for the perpetrator because this was mentioned to me in the magical world of 3 dimensions.

I've come to a decision, I find writing about fluff to be enjoyable.
On the flipside I want to challenge my skills. Because lets face it, im spite of my amazing numchuck skills, my writing skills can always be improved.
Plus it's great for the guy-catching process, I can be flirty/retarded/stammer in public, but go read my blog and whoo boy.
Ain't she smart?

(Thats rhetorical, by the way)

Help Me.

2005-08-30T18:28:00.000-07:00

I cannot decide, I'm very bored of my long and brown hair. I want change. I was thinking chin length choppy with bangs blonde hair?
Opinions / comments would be appreciated.

Say Hello to My Little Friend...Smurfette

2005-08-28T20:08:00.000-07:00

Gabe and myself decided to go on a fast food run, after a bit of confusion at the Taco Bell Drive-Thru, I was content with my Cheesy Crunchy Gordita goodness- and we proceded over to the Burger King.

Drive Thru Lady: Can I help you?
Me: *mouthfull of mexican ruffage* What do you want Gabe? *Gabe blocks spewage of shredded lettuce*
Gabe: Uh *mumble*
Me: What are you saying? You just tell her
Gabe: *screams* I WANT THE CHICKEN FRIES MEAL
Me: *deaf*
Total: $4.59
Gabe handed the cashier $5.00
Weren't we surprised when she handed us the reciept and literally a stack of singles?

Gabe: Why am I getting bills back?
Me: Maybe your the customer of the day...
Our surprise quickly turned into bewilderment, we drove up to the exit and looked over the receipt.
Realizing that we'd actually made $5.00, our options were just drive away, or give it back.
Giving it back seemed to be the nice thing to do...
However, we got a bit sidetracked.

Gabe: Ha!
I looked, and there it was on the receipt-
Cashier: Smurfette

I kid you not.

Gabe: Its Smurfette! Like the little blue men!
Me: Maybe shes like Princess Fiona in Shrek, except instead of turning into an ogre at night, she turns into a smurf!

Oh the Irony

2005-08-22T06:32:00.000-07:00

Lets go back...way back-
to June.

When I was carelessly late for the train to NYC. As I got into a passionate verbal arguement with the parking machine my train pulled up. I had to make a split second decision, wait for the 10:30 train or just not pay for my beloved spot #679.
True to character I chose the latter.
My friend and I boarded the train and took our seats. Across the isle a tawdry middle-aged woman looked at us, smiled a toothless grin and asked,
"Do either of you have a safety pin?"
"No, sorry." we replied.
"I've had these jeans since I was 15," I didn't doubt it. "And they chose just now to give up on me! The day I wore a G-string too..."
What can you do but nod?
Nothing...you can do nothing.

So as the train pulled away we called my friends Dad who came and paid the parking fee about 15 minutes after we left the station.
When I came back later in the day, I had gotten a parking ticket- apparently in the time between the train leaving and my friends father arriving.

Dirty. Jerks.

I decided that in light of their excessive jerk-ness I was going to fight the ticket.
So let me bring you back to this week.

It was when I was forced to wake-up before God that I realized how ridiculous fighting this ticket was and what a waste of my time it would inevitably become, so in honor of the fact that life is too short to sit in court (hey that rhymes)
I just decided to pay it.
Although apparently you still have to go to the court house to do that.
When I rolled in, I noticed that the parking lot was, not unlike the Grinch's heart- 2 sizes too small. (Coincidence? I think not)
Everyone was mulling around like little ants, hunting for a spot- one guy decided to simply park his car along the edge of the lot. Of course being the sheep we are... everyone else followed suit.

I was one of the last in line, lucky me.
Despite the fact that I was really cutting the whole 50 ft. from the stop sign rule really close, I parked in front of the malibu anyway.
My thought process was simple.
Who gets a parking ticket at traffic court?

Waiting for the imbisol of a worker to run my ticket through, I saw the drummer from my church- apparently he got a speeding ticket on the way to church.
Oh the irony.
So things went smoothly paying for the ticket, I left very content with myself.
Walking out of the building I noticed 2 things...
1. That the malibu behind my car had been replaced with a Jeep which was literally about 2 inches from my bumper. A Suburban had parked in front of me, again about 2 inches away. My car was in a parking headlock. I was about ready to call in the Gadget Mobile when the second thing occured to me.
2. There was now about 5 policejerks strutting with much glee in perfect V formation towards my car.
the mission impossible theme song started playing in my head
I quickened my pace, momentarily the owner of the suburban, a heavy woman in dainty heels- she looked like an upside-down pyramid- came clicking over.
You know how some little kids put so much effort into running, but they really don't really get anywhere.
Yeah-that was her.

I glanced over at one of the police officers and exchanged a smile. It was a lovely moment- especially because I'm pretty sure those policejerks were dumber than a rocks and the suburban lady provided an adequate distraction to make him forget why they came over in the first place.

100 Things About Me

2005-08-21T20:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry my blogging was lagged...but no fear Jessica is here.

1. Cereal is my favorite food
2. I don't understand people who don't like cereal
3. I believe in God
4. I believe God comes before cereal, however in that moment I was hunkerin' for some cereal
5. I believe acceptance of God's salvation is the only way to have true happiness
6. Pink is my favorite color
7. My phone doesn't have any special downloaded ringtones
8. I have 3 younger siblings
9. My nails are real
10. I used to have a space in between my 2 front teeth
11. They called me GapKid
12. So I got braces soph. year of high school
13. I got them off
14. and now I have a still have a smaller space between my teeth
15. I don't look like Madonna though because I have very small teeth to begin with
16. I've had 11 jobs since freshman year of high school
17. I have ADD
18. I worked at a health food store for a year and a half
19. I've never been fired
20. I'm scared to death of spiders
21. and the dark
22. but not snakes
23. I hate the snow
24. and precipitation in general
25. because I'm short the bottom 7 inches of my pants are always wet,
26. and I think that looks stupid.
27. I wish I had freckles
28. I dislike randomly running into people from high school
29. even when I was in high school
30. I was a vegetarian for a year and 8 months.
31. I've used the same laura ashley sheets since I was 5, they are at their peak softness
32. My family has a newsletter, which I publish monthly
33. -it's called Welcome to the Monkey House
34. I have an aunt who is 2 years older than me
35. She's from guam
36. or someplace in that region
37. I didn't have a sweet sixteen
38. I like Taco Bell despite its dirtyness
39. My parents have never met one of my boyfriends-
40. Ever.
41. Most of the time I'm as close, or closer to my Grandparents then I am to my Parents
42. I am not self-sufficent
43. I could be if I tried
44. But I don't feel like trying
45. I'm lazy
46. I signed up for peace corps. because I was bored
47. I'm still waiting to hear back from them
48. I'm not patient
49. I don't try to be.
50. If you think I'm selfish & materialistic you don't know me
51. I'm actually a Republican & Capitalist
52. If you think I'm bossy than your an idiot
53. I like George Bush
54. I think Dick Cheney is a funny name
55. I am not a mature individual
56. some say im responsible
57. no one says im mature
58. I'm a Toys R Us kid
59. I dislike horseback riding
60. as well as horses
61. I'm am somewhat of a genius
62. My IQ is 131
63. If people ask me my IQ, and in honor of being polite I ask what their IQ is- theirs is always between 132-135
64. Funny how that works out
65. My favorite TV show is the Cosby Show
66. I can relate anything to the Cosby Show
67. I have big feet
68. Dolce & Gabbanna: Light Blue is my signature scent
69. I love making documentaries
70. I'm an avid reader
71. When I was 9 I won 3rd in a nationwide Art Contest sponsored by Caldores
72. I got a really big teddy bear
73. But its head ripped off
74. Caldores shut down
75. I like fads.
76. I've owned furby and tamagotchi
77. collected milkads, POGs, beanie babies and pokemon cards
78. isn't that sad?
79. Chinese food is amazing
80. I throw many social gatherings every year
81. by social gathering I do not mean free beer
82. civilized social gatherings
83. I'm awesome at solitare
84. I'm also fabulous at texas hold 'em
85. I won $350 playing texan hold 'em once
86. usually I let the guys win
87. those particular guys were dirty jerks
88. after I played they were poor dirty jerks
89. I was a published author at 9.
90. I've watched Full House since I was born
91. My style icon is Ashley Olsen
92. I think Lindsay Lohan looks better Blonde
93. I love classical music
94. as well as anything with a piano
95. When I lived in my old neighborhood I would make money by painting pictures and selling them door to door to my nieghbors
96. I've never gone Trick-or-Treating
97. My Mom's birthday is on Halloween
98. My Dad and I were both born on Friday the 13th.
99. I'm a certified pro-marksman/marksman
100. Don't mess with me.

My Teacher Didn't like My Drawing of the Invisible Castle

2005-08-17T01:09:00.000-07:00

Tommorrow- well technically today- is my first day at my brand spankin' new place of employment. I had my spur of the moment orientation today where I met one of my co-workers, a very attractive specimen of the opposite sex.
A very attractive, and extremely well-dressed member of the opposite sex.
So well dressed in fact, that its very unclear what team hes batting for, causing my flirtation skills (as well as hormones in general) to be set in "deer-in-the-headlights" mode.
Lets face it, I have enough gay friends to help me pick out my clothes- however the only boyfriend I have is 'Bob the Boyfriend', and he's invisible.
Of course I realize straight men can dress nicely too, but even when straight guys have a fashion sense, they tend to put themselves together differently. Does that make any sense?
Well, we shall see.

Roosters have Most Excellent Timing

2005-08-15T15:29:00.000-07:00

I was listening to some most excellent Dashboard Confessional ("Hands Down"- specifically) and I admittedly had my stereo blasting at a high decibal level. Not so loud that my neighbors look out their windows as I pass saying, "That hooligan with her music loud! Teenagers today..."
Never the less it was pretty loud.
Usually I remember to turn down the music as I pull into the garage- apparently that must have slipped my mind.
Because when I got into the car this morning and turned on the ignition...

Lord have mercy.

It scared me so badly, I actually jumped out of the car.

I havn't been scared so badly since I saw the Sixth Sense at Debo's house. We had gone to bed around 3 am, and I was not aware that the girl had chickens in her backyard. That is not something I generally assume, maybe if we lived in Nebraska-

but we don't.

Just before daybreak (for those of you who don't know, thats when the chickens materialize from their slumber) I hear these faint noises coming from I don't know where, who knows anything at 4:30 am? Half in/half out of my spacey sleep-coma, chickens sounded like dead people.

I'm sorry but they did.

Ashley: Whats your problem go to sleep
Me: *whisper* I swear there are dead people in her backyard
Ashley: Their are no dead people, they are sleeping.
Me: *pulls off Ashley's covers* Yes! Listen!
*Ashley ignores me*
This must have been what Noah felt like telling everyone there was going to be a flood.
*I pull off everyone's covers*
Me: Guys, I totally hear dead people in Debo's backyard!
Debo: Holy crap your so dumb, I have chickens!
*rooster crows* (see? don't roosters have most excellent timing?)
Me: Oh. go back to sleep then.

That was 4 years ago, and I'm still not invited to go see scary movies.

I see dead people
- The Sixth Sense