Changes

I have decided to become a very quiet and intuitive person.

My friend Anne is a very quiet and intuitive person. Also, most independent film stars are quiet and intuitive people (i.e. Ryan Gosling and that girl from Eagle V.S Shark). Also, nuns.

It is a known fact that very quiet and intuitive people can see into your soul and know the real truth about you.

They know that when you storm out of a bar because your friends don't want to play darts with you, you are really just harboring a deep seeded resentment toward your older brother for never letting you play spaceships with him and his friends.

They understand that when you say "I do not want to go out tonight", you are really saying "I have a real problem with letting people love me because my father was a career minded business man who 'worked' long hours at the office and my mother was an unhappy housewife who drowned her sorrows in gin and General Hospital thereby leaving me to spend most of my time alone in the garage crying, playing with wood and developing a real fear of intimacy".

I am the opposite of quiet and intuitive. I am loud and self-involved. When I was small I used to get naked and run around the house screaming at the top of my lungs. My mother would ignore me and I didn't even care.

If you storm out of a bar, I will think it has to do with something stupid I have said that offended you and in order to protect my fragile ego, I will call you a baby behind your back.

If you tell me you "do not want to go out tonight", I will think that is the lamest thing I have ever heard and call you a Party Pooper.

When I try to look deep into the recesses of someone's mind, I get confused and lonely and think about a million grains of sand.

But no longer!

The next time you see me, the air will burn from my stillness and I'll be elbow deep in your soul.

Something Old

McSweeney's Internet Tendency has a section on their website called Reviews of New Food. A couple years ago they "published" my submission. I was working at the Getty in the Transportation and Security department at the time, and had a boss named Dirk Donaldson and one named Dan Dickerson (no joke). This was the most exciting thing to have happen to me.

I had forgotten about it till Amanda reminded me yesterday.

Burger King Chicken Fries

Submitted by Jennie Pierson

The idea of the Chicken Fry made me wildly optimistic. Why must we limit the shape of processed chicken foods to amorphous blobs? Burger King's genius crack marketing team and award-winning line cooks answered that question with the kind of reckless abandon usually reserved for fusion cuisine and astronaut food. "Replace potato with chicken, replace potato with chicken" was the mantra that echoed through the boardroom and filled VPs and office temps alike with glee.

This should have been a noble and worthy endeavor. This should have changed the face of appetizer-as-meal.

I was disappointed.

Literally expecting french-fry-shaped chicken (i.e., small spears that I could easily grab and eat two or even three of at a time), I instead received a sort of mozzarella-stick-shaped "tender," along with a side of their new buffalo dipping sauce, which tasted like congealed butter.

The Chicken Fry was bigger and less tasty than I thought. The Chicken Fry was no fun. The Chicken Fry reeked of shrunken sweaters and broken homes.

I was tempted to erase it from my mind altogether. However, mainly because I think I'm being funny, I will still occasionally screech out "CHICCCKKKENN FFFRRRIIEESSSS" in a Gene Simmons-shouting-out-"Hello, New Jersey!!" kind of way. Thereby keeping the memory alive.

Farts are fun to talk about

An excerpt from the first ever Gmail chat with my new friend Angela:

Angela: my farts are poisonous. are yours?

me: haha

only if ive eaten pickles

which sucks because i love pickles!

Angela: michael says i need to get that checked.

me: hahaha

Angela: mmm pickle farts.

fickle pickle farts

me: tickle pickle farts

so yours are silent but deadly?

Angela: yes indeed. SBD.

me: ha!

you cant help it!

yeah when you hold it in, it just comes back stronger Angela: and hotter!

wow. our first gchat is so sweet.

me: i know

i think its a start to a beautiful friendship

My favorite part about sandwiches are...

. . . the whole sandwich!

Sandwiches are my favorite food.

I especially like real Jew-ey sandwiches like corned beef on rye with deli mustard.

Or lox and bagels (I don't know if that would be considered a sandwich, but it would be considered delicious).

Or capers (not actually a sandwich but they taste really good on sandwiches).

Or Gus's in San Luis Obispo (Best. Sandwich. Place. EVER.).

Or Newsradio (Good television show to watch while eating sandwiches).

Update: I found this flicker set called Campaign for a Sensible Sandwich. Sandwiches should not be too big or difficult to eat. These sandwiches aren't sensible!

http://flickr.com/groups/sensible-sandwich/

I Heart the Birthday Boys

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Jennie Peeeee (Get it!?)

You know how when you open up a pea pod to eat some delicious plump peas, there is always one pea that is very small, flat and shriveled up? That is the size of my bladder. I have to pee a lot. Like A LOT. It would be exaggerating to say that I pee rainbows and gold (leprechaun stuff), but it would not be exaggerating to say that I pee almost every hour. I don't like to tell people about my small bladder because it makes me feel embarrassed. I feel that there is something wrong with my insides and then I get all mopey.

My job is one of the most important jobs ever to have existed in the universe. I call it "Phone Answerer". It is so important, that when I am not at my desk to answer the phone, someone in the office dies. Not a peaceful, relaxing death like Oscar Wilde's where the dying person makes a very snarky comment about interior decoration, but a painful, throw-up and convulsions death like Socrates's.

So whenever I go to the bathroom, I have to let my co-worker know so that she can "cover the phones" for me. But because I am embarrassed to tell her about my small bladder, and judging from the eye rolling and sigh she gives me every time I say "I'm running to the bathroom", I think she must be thinking the following:

1) That girl does a lot of blow.
2) That girl does a lot of private bathroom crying.
3) That girl definitely does not have a small bladder that makes her need to pee a lot because that would be RIDICULOUS.

I went home for Thanksgiving and this is what happened.

- My brother dared me to eat a dog treat. (And by dared, I mean told me not to eat a dog treat):

Brother: "Hey Jen, check out these dog treats that mom bought. The only ingredient is 100% freeze dried cheese".
Me: "Weird. So why can't people eat them too?"
Brother: "I guess they can".
Me: "I'm going to eat one"
Brother: "Gross, don't eat one"
Me (crunching into freeze dried cheese dog treat that tastes less like cheese and more like if you made soap out of Styrofoam and then dipped it in Velveeta): "This is gross"

Then I gave about 25 to the dog. I like the sound of animals crunching on things. It's peaceful.

- Watched about 9 hours of Project Runway and Real Housewives of Atlanta while eating all the leftover desserts from the night before.
Conclusion: Watching 9 hours of TV and eating all the leftover desserts makes my stomach feel funny. Also, Michael Kors looks like a redneck cartoon character when you look at him upside down.

- I jokingly told my friends girlfriend that she was a witch. To be fair, she did fall asleep at the table with her eyes open. Regardless, she did not find me amusing.

- I attended a bridal shower. My mom's friend (drunk on Blood Orange Mimosas and a false sense of importance) stupidly asked me if there would be a wedding shower in my near future. I (drunk on Blood Orange Mimosas and pure boredom) breezily responded, "Oh, no thank you" and flipped my hair back. She did not find me amusing.

- Farting dogs.