At the do-it-yourself car wash near my house there are multiple signs that say "No washing out truck beds or pick-ups".

I think it would be more effective to say "No washing out dead bodies or other bad stuff. Not here, alright? Take it elsewhere".

We live in a sketchy neighborhood.

Poor Nicodemus*

The area near the copier at my work smells like dead rat. I noticed it this morning. It's probably in the walls. No one else seems to notice, so my plan is this:

Tell no one.
Hold my breath every time I pass the area near the copier.

My reasoning for this plan:
If I tell my boss that it smells like dead rat near the copier, she will freak out and want me to do something about it. (i.e. call someone, look behind the copier for the dead rat).
At all costs, I try to avoid doing anything at work because it is annoying and having to hunt down a dead rat would really throw me over the edge.

*Anyone read Secret of NIMH? Anyone? Anyone?

I'm Tingling

Let's Do This!

Hooray!

A Movie Review

I watched the screener of this movie all by myself while babysitting. At the end, through my tears, I very passionately and loudly cried out "TRUE LOVE EXISTS!"

Then I realized I was going to wake the kid up and consequently scare her with my impassioned weeping and I told myself to shut up.

In the tiny grey bathroom at the Creperie on 3rd street, there is a very modern looking chair placed across from the toilet so close that if someone was sitting on the toilet and another person was sitting on the modern looking chair, their knees would touch.

I thought there must be a reason for this strange placement, so as I sat down on the toilet, I had a conversation in my head with the person I imagined would be sitting in that chair.

I thought of an older man with a green sweater vest and round glasses. He told me about his dead wife and interest in historical fiction. I told him that sometimes I am too loud. He said that we are always moving forward even when gravity is being an asshole and I listened.

Neither one of us thought it strange that I was sitting on the toilet and he was sitting on the modern looking chair and our knees were touching.

Some Very Bad Ideas (To be updated frequently)

- When babysitting for a very nice British family, it is a very bad idea to be watching World's Most Notorious Serial Killers on The History Channel while falling asleep with your legs spread eagle on the coffee table as if you are at the gynecologist (even though this is the most comfortable television watching position to ever have been invented) when the parents arrive home. The nice British parents will look confused, you will quickly sit up wiping drool from the side of your mouth, clumsily change the channel to Dora the Explorer and receive less money than initially agreed upon.


- When performing student's scripts in the end result show for the Young Storytellers Foundation,

(Description from the website: YSF currently serves over 2,500 students in Los Angeles public schools where the concentration of poverty is high and the academic performances tend to be low. During a six-week session of one-on-one mentoring, fourth and fifth grade students write their own short screenplay. Then, YSF invites professional actors to perform the student’s scripts in the school auditorium in front of family, friends, and faculty).

it is a very bad idea to do your "Sassy African American character" for one of the roles when the audience is largely African American. No one will find this funny or charming.

- Thinking you can sing Bette Midler songs such as "The Rose" and "Wind Beneath My Wings" at karaoke when you really cannot. Loud does not equal good. (Side note: A good idea is to do an impression of Bette Midler and get very pretend emotional while singing said songs. People will really eat this up).

Me in 50 years. I can't wait.

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.