My Awesome Friend Jess She’s Cool Actually. This page is an ongoing dialogue between my friend Jess and I, not just this picture I took of her in New Orleans. Share this:TweetEmailShare on TumblrPrintLike this:Like Loading...
104 thoughts on “My Awesome Friend Jess”
One time, Mary asked me what type of cuisine is special to Saint Louis. I was stumped. Never before had I considered what I ate and what I grew up eating to be special and uniquely Mid-Western. Completely dumb founded, I said Italian. For real. She looked at me like I was an idiot and I defended myself by saying how there is this neighborhood called “The Hill” and actual Italianos live there! Their restaurants are to die. Like, way better than Olive Garden.
A few months later, I was sitting in a Bandana’s Bar-b-que “Smell that Smoke” and it hit me: This is what she was talking about. Freaking BBQ! Oh, yeah. My last meal on Earth would be a whole day of eating all my favorite meals e.g. Fries, duh, pizza, duh, ice cream, soda, cheeseburgers, duh, duh, duh, shrimp!
Aside: in New Orleans visiting Mary I wanted to eat only New Orleans cuisine i.e. Shrimp! First meal: Shrimp Po’ Boy with fried green tomatos and hot sauce (fucking A-right,) second meal: shrimp and scallop dinner plate (bomb,) third meal: crawfish (weird how black goo runs down your arm, but delish,) forth meal: crab cakes with poached eggs (yum, I’m also running out of food describer words) fifth meal: this is where the story lies…
Both me and Mary were sick and tired of crestation. Like, grossed out, so we decided to get pizza! On the walk to the pizzaria we noticed a better looking Mexican joint next door. Delima. We chose Mexican and what else? Shrimp tacos.
OK, back to the main story: as part of my last day of eating on Earth the grand finale or maybe not would be pulled pork with sweet and spicy BBQ sauce, potato salad, baked beans, and roasted corn-on-the-cob (for nutrition, duh.) And that there, Mary is my proper answer to Mid-Western cuisine.
(I must say I wasn’t totally off mark when I said Italian for Saint Louis cuisine. We here like to eat this one dish called Moscacholi– especially at weddings–which is penne pasta in red sauce with cheese on top baked. I have a memory eating this for lunch at a retarded day camp where I voluntered. Dude, never serve moscacholi for retarded kids at day camp.)
Crap, last night when I ate at Bandana’s Bar-B-Q, Derek informed me that this type of food was Texan. Really? So maybe Missourian cuisine is country fried stake and mashed potatos? I give up.
hi jess is amyenman houing out eating lunch with you
may be you can come over my house 113syvan road
Whoa, whoa, whoa, I must intergect!
Once, a few years back while hanging out at my then douch bag boyfriends restaurant (I dumped him because he dumped me for someone else! That really showed him!) I met this man who lived in the loft above. We started talking as most people do when they sit at a bar alone. He was black.
Well, he was really into The Power of Now, the same book Mary now calls her gospel. He told me about the teachings and how it transformed his life. He said how he used to drink too much and sleep with too many women (I made that up.) And then, BAM!! He read The Power of Now and everything changed.
As I am interested in most things of zero value, like Brad Pitts hair, I was full on convinced that i had found the secret to life and I would no longer have to hang out at my douch bag boyfriends place of employment talking to strangers for I will have found a reason to live (I made that up. Let’s just say I was listening and head nodding.)
After his whole shpeal, I actually thought what he was saying had some value, then BAM! Here was the kicker: he told me he lived so much in the present that he didn’t cry or feel sad or grief when his mom died. He had power over everything.
I think this is the crux of The Power of Now: not processing human emotion. This man was so into the present that he missed out on a real human experience: feeling the loss of a loved one. I don’t think it matters how in the present you are, you still need to recognize how you feel.
Like in Seinfeld and the “serenity now,” I am 100% certain that this man who ignored his feelings about his mother’s death will or has already had a serious breakdown. No matter how connected you are to now, I think it is also important to acknowlage and process your feelings.
The Power of Now has some good points to take away and incorporate into your life, but I think you have to respect yourself and your human fallibility. Just don’t get so stuck in the present that you ignore your human emotions. It is necessary to feel what your body natuarally wants you to feel. Separate yor feelings from your identity all you want. Don’t let them define who you are, but don’t also let them go unfelt.
And P.S. I used to play a lot of Barbies as a kid, like a lot, and last night while pondering Tom Brady and Gisele Bunchen, I realized that I am still playing Barbies just not with Barbies.
Number one. Your friend totally blew it. It’s important to distinguish the essence of who you are from your feelings, but you can’t just go around NOT FEELINGS THINGS. That shit cray. And yeah, if your mom dies, you need to feel it. Your friend saying that he had power over everything was his ego disguising itself as ‘getting it.’ Not feeling grief is not living in the present. In fact it’s the opposite. Your friend was living in denial. The more ‘Power of Now’ way to go about it, is to allow yourself to feel sad, feel the loss. And also to accept that life is temporary and that his mom is participated in a process that has been part of the deal all along. The way to not go about it is to say, I could have done something to prevent it, Or I can’t go on without her, or Now that something bad has happened to me, I’m allowed to do bad things. In other words Jess, YOUR FRIEND BLEW IT.
Also, The Power of Now is not my new bible. It’s one of many books I’m finding that are pointing me to the direction of consciousness. Now I’m reading The Seat of the Soul by Gary Zukav. It’s another goodie. Also I’m reading Strong Motion by Johnathan Franzen. Have you read Freedom yet? Dude, you must. PEACE.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, this guy i wrote about in my post was not my friend. He was just some dude I spoke to once! Stop saying he is my friend!!!
And yeah, The Power of Now doesn’t say to abandon feelings, I just think within certain interpretations, that message could get lost.
You know what book taught me a lot about the mind and body connection? Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. Its about a human, Valentine Michael Smith, who was raised on Mars then brought back to Earth. Read that!! “I’m only and egg.”
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You spelled interject wrong! Get it together Jess. You are soooo incredibly right about playing barbies. Also, do you dream about your wedding? I do. A lot. In a gross way. I even buy bride magazines to look for dress ideas. I’ve been doing that for like a year now, and it wasn’t until my last layover in the airport that I bought Modern Bride magazine and the cashier asked when I was getting married. “Oh, uh, I’m not….I’m just…” “INSANE?!” She didn’t say that, but you could see it in her eyes. She’s right I guess. I should stop. It’s just so much fun being a girl. I feel sorry for boys.
yes town soooo togetther out to eat kiss me
At the office, I have successfully memorized everyones foot step sounds. Like the owner, he does a shuffle, so whenever I hear that I know I should look busy.
Then, there’s Stampee. She walks with such aggressivness that her foot steps make the floor rumble. I nic-named her Stampee from that episode of The Simpsons where Bart wins the elephant and names him Stampee.
When I walk I try not to stamp because I don’t want a nic-name. And I try not to shuffle because that sounds silly in pumps and I want to be respected by my collegues. (You know that matters) so that is probably why I walk without moving my arms trying to make as little noise as possible.
I remember being in adolecence and every sound my parents made used to make be angry. I hated how my dad’s fork would scrape his teeth when we ate. And my mom would always lick her lips in the car. My insides would be on fire.
And color me jealous for those air tight canisters. And whistling without vibrato is for the amateur.
Hey Jess! My legs are on fire and it’s 5 in the morning and I was doing what I usually do in this position, scanning facebook and making note of how ridiculous people are and then trying to find some fresh wedding photos, honeymoon photos, or baby photos that I have yet to look through. There were no fresh ones. Then I was like WAIT, what about Jess? What is that whore up to? And now here I found you, just like I imagined I would. Still typing away on this page. You’re the best friend ever Jess. (Hugs computer screen uncomfortably)
So, I’m an aunt for the second time. Boo yah kuh shaw! This means I get to buy cute shit, spoil the hell out of her, and not have to worry about the consequences or her behaving badly, because she’s somebody else’s kid. But even so, I’ll teach her good things and make sure she knows the ways of the world. Mostly I just pray she doesn’t have fibromyalgia. But if she does, I’ll be there for her and we’ll compare pill effectiveness together.
Jess, we’re getting old. Do you plan on reproducing? Because I do, and technically our biological clocks are ticking faster and faster and faster. Sometimes at night I hear my own ovaries ticking. It’s winding down Jess. We need to begin soon. But judging from this page, I’m not so sure we’re ready to be mothers. Gabe was like “I really want to have a kid before I’m 30” and I kindof agreed with him but then I was like, wait, look what we’re doing. We’re stoned and playing monopoly with friends with poor jugdment. We can’t have a kid yet. Then we sold all our properties and went bankrupt.
I’d like to come to St. Louis and visit you. I’ve never been to Louie. (Remember, that was the nickname we gave it to say to people from California who don’t think St. Louis is cool) But you need to get a couch. Or air mattress. Let me know when the deed is done. PEACE.
It’s like, “Of course I want kids.” Then it’s like, “I want to be a business woman! Screw kids!” And finally, “Shit, I’m gonna need those fuckers when I’m old, lonely, and desperate for company.”
I don’t know when it will happen. Maybe it’s happening right now and I just don’t know yet, or maybe it will never happen, who knows?
I see on Facebook EVERYONE with a ute is renting it out. And my older co-workers are suggesting I get started. I’ve just never been driven by babies. I’ve always had different objectives with my life.
Honestrly, I never wanted kids until I met you. Your enthusiasm and truthfulness was something I admired. I never before had let myself want something that seemed so cliche.
I hope I can have kids, but if I can’t I will have to deal with that as it comes. The plus side of barrenness is mo money! Hello lake house on Lake Como like George Clooney!
I’m not one of those girls that is driven by marriage and kids. No way. Those things aren’t on my To Do list. If it happenes, it happens. If not, maybe I could be a cool step mom or an awesome Aunt that drinks too much.
Now, is not the time for kids, but I don’t think we can decide when the right time will be. The universe has got that one.
Here’s to drugs, adventure, and freedom. Live it up before those bastards take it away from us.
Come crash on my parent’s couch! Or Derek’s couch. I don’t have a couch. Maybe I shouldn’t impose on other people’s couches.
Leap Day, bitches!! Let’s get naked!
Oh, and I hear Becks is in an underwear commercial for H & M. Maybe that will erase from my mind Madonna’s push ups. Hopefully.
And who directed the Super Bowl because there needed to be way more cut aways to Gisele. Am I right or am I right?
You’re right you’re right. You’re always right. GOD. Dude I think that Frasier is the perfect show to watch before bed. Or The Golden Girls if you want something sassier. I’m reading Eat Pray Love right now. It makes me want to travel again. But I am poor, and also sick. So I get to read this book, dream about my old life, and take pills. Life is crazy dude. CRAZY.
And guess what the Hallmark Channel has coming on after this episode of Frazier? The Golden Girls. I WIN!!!!
Haha. I like to watch The Office before bed. You know what movie is coming back to the iMax? Titanic!
Derek is watching Scrubs. He likes to watch a series all the way through for a couple of months. And during that time he refers to the characters as his friends. So right now, when I ask him if he is playing Final Fantasy 13 Part 2 he will say, “No, I’m cleaning with my friends,” meaning he’s cleaning with an episode of Scrubs on the TV.
I’ve been in such a shit mood lately: the morning starts sad, the afternoon gets mean, the dusk is happy, and finally the night is sad because of how mean I was in the afternoon.
Finally, I feel more like myself, but it was terrible there for a few weeks. Like, I even internet spied on my boyfriend! That took a minute to smooth over.
So now here we are. Another monday. How uncomfotable is everyone after watching Madonna perform feats of strenghth on national television? Uncomfortable, right? Do I ever want to see Madonna slowly do one legged wheel barrel push ups ever again? Probably.
I wrote another poem:
“Hide the Bullets from Myself”
Every thing is dead
It’s dark as fuck
Will I make it to Spring before I shoot myself in the head
Jess, this was really powerful. Umm, call me. Like soon. If you actually died and this was the last poem you wrote, it’d be sad. And it would taint the blog. COME ON MAN. Remember that time in France I told you all that if I died I wanted the song “The Next Episode” to play while they were walking my casket down the aisle? We laughed, but then you all realized that I could actually die while over there, and you all would HAVE to honor my last wishes, in which case, I would be dead in a casket being walked down an aisle with Snoop Dogg blaring in a church. Yeah, that could have happened. Call me.
P.S. Did you watch the PUPPY BOWL?!
It was a simple cresent kick. I thought it was chill.
Every morning (except weekends, duh: weekends = soda) I drink 20 oz of water and I eat a banana. Some mornings, I will want to drink a hot chocolate or a decaf mocha latte. Then, a delima meets me: drink the hot beverage first and lose out on early morning hydration, or drink the water first and lose out on, umm nothing?
Usually, I will drink the hot chocolate first. But on good days, like this morning, I will drink all the water, then, eat the fruit and finally drink the hot beverage.
Today, my mom bought me a decaf Venti mocha latte. That’s right–Venti–just like the Olsen twins. I’ve never had a Venti sized latte before today. Now, I can say I have lived.
Another wild Tuesday.
Today, I scraped off ice on my windshield with a CD case.
Who know what tomorrow will bring?
*knows. I give up.
no tanks this meen to amy enman fcuk you
Today, I scrapped off ice on my windshield with a CD case.
Who know what tomorrow will bring?
Delete this. I spelled scrape wrong.
It’s funny you mentioned Synchronicity because oddly enough, yesterday before you published your dancing post, I reTweeted a Tweet about how Ellen’s seductive dancing is at the top of the Things That Kill Boners List!
We must be cycling together.
Synchronicity dude. I saw that tweet. Stop hating on Ellen MKAY?!?!
Have you ever tried to Tweet something, but then, the darned Twitter machine froze while it was still trying to publish your Tweet? And then, all you want to do is Tweet about how your Twitter machine is frozen!! But you can’t! Because it’s still trying to publish your other Tweet about Sheryl Crow.
Ugh…this just happened to me
You know what I have to say about this? You have a stewpid PC computer.
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I’m doin it. I’m gonna talk about the weather:
What is with this unseasonably warm weather? On the one hand, I love it because I can wear my winter coat unbuttoned (by the way, I have yet to button my coat this winter) and I can take off my coat before sitting in the car. Ew, I hate coat hair: that gross feeling you get at the nape of your neck when your hair is all knotted and greasy from that darned coat (I just blew my load from the juxtiposition of a faux-swear word and a regular word), which let us get real, car coat sitting causes coat hair–the main reason why i hate car coat sitting; the secondairy reason being excessive sweating in the under arms, and the thirdairy reason being the whole mind-fight I have with myself for at least an hour in which I try to convince myself that actually, taking off my seat belt to remove my coat will not be that bad.
On the otherhand, this weather is causing allergies. I need a solid four months of frost to tame the wild midwestern pollen and mold. Every day this week has been a sneeze fest. But now that I have properly thought about car coat sitting, I say scew it, bring on the allergies.
Life is good.
Again, great post. I too, hate car coat sitting. Kudos.
Hahahahaha! Dead Christmas Trees! That could be a horror film. Aside (not the right word but drumroll-to-build-up-suspence-for-my-catch-phrase-whatever): You know how on Facebook people put film as one of their interests. What does that mean? Does it mean they like to watch movies? Because if that is what they mean, then they shouldn’t even bother writing that because EVERYONE likes movies. Facebook even has a section, after interests, called MOVIES where you type in what movies you like. Christmas.
So if they don’t mean they like to watch movies, then what does it mean to have an interest in film? Does it mean they enjoy watching Criterion Collection and borrowing opinions and ideas from the director’s cut. Because if that is what they mean, then they shouldn’t even bother writing that because EVERYONE likes stealling opinions from the director’s cut. You know what my interests are on Facebook? It’s blank. I never filled it out, but if I did, it would be swimming, which is appropriate because not everyone is interested in swimming, and I’m not talking about race swimming with proper strokes; I’m talken about leisure swimming with a diving board or at least goggles and something heavy.
I digress. The other day Carolyn took down the Christmas wreaths at work. The wreath–talk about a classy holiday decoration especially when its accompanied by the candels in the windows. Think about someone’s internal dialog about Christmas decor: “OK Todd, what will my Christmas decorations say about me? I can’t go with mult-colored lights–they will think I’m poor. But the all-white lights are a hassle and let’s face it, I don’t really give a sh–, so let’s do wreaths with candles. They are just as classy as the all-white lights, but way easier so I’ll have more time to pursue my interests in film.”
Ray is my cousin Shelia’s friend. He makes the best cheesecake.
Oh my god! I love this post, Jess. You are right about wreaths looking nice. You are the best!
Get this: if your SIMS character pees himself, your character has to clean it up with a push broom. Yeah, even if you pissed yourself in the grass, same, push broom. I don’t get it. Why not a mop? Or if the programmers were dead set on the push broom, then they should at least throw down some saw dust first. Am I right or am I right?
Pet SIMS was a Christmas gift, BOOM. I thought it would be fun to make a tramp dog or set up a make-up factory that tests lip balm on animals. The possibilities are endless when you throw pets in the mix.
First, I started the game by building my own house. Obviously, the island property with a view was my first choice. Too bad I spent all my money on walls and windows. When it came time to buy a stove and a toilette, I had to reset the game. This made me think I should have asked for CAD instead, to bad it costs like 1000 dollars. That is what Community Colleges are for. You can enroll in a 100 dollar course and use their software for free. Am I right or am I right?
I think I am messed up.
no dude. you are right. you are right.
I’ve never played SIMS. But I’d probably talk a lot of shit about it if I did, and then play it for 48 hours straight. Like Rock Band. Is Rock band still hot? I feel like it’s not. Hang on, I have to go to Whole Foods with my brother. I’ll write more later.
Christmas was a bonanza. My favorite dessert was Ray’s turtle cheesecake. My favorite present was earrings. My brother really liked his A Frames. And nobody died. Phew.
Wait…Mary, did anyone die? Crap, I hope no one died.
Today, I wear my hair in a ponytail. It pulls tight the skin on my face so I look more youthful. And it nicely displays my new earrings.
Mary, are you a listen to Christmas music until the New Year kind of gal, or a no Christmas music after Christmas type? My mom hates Christmas stuff after Christmas. Our house decorations are already back in their boxes is the basement. I on the otherhand like expired Christmas joy. I do not see a problem with Christmas lights until February.
Today is a good day. There is a bottle of sparkling cider in the fridge at work.
dude, who’s Ray? And nobody died, yet. I like how we have to clarify that type of shit because untimely and sudden deaths are so frequent in the Gelpi crew.
And seriously, like what if someone had died. And here I am telling you on the comments part of this page that, yeah, someone died. It was my brother. He fell off the roof. Haha.
I’m a total listen to christmas music starting thanksgiving day and stretch it out as long as possible. You know what is so depressing? Dead christmas trees on the side of the road. It’s like screw you you stupid tree! We don’t need you anymore!! They’re just so lifeless and sad. It always depressed me. And UN-decorating the tree? It doesn’t GET ANY SADDER!
One time when we lived in Colorado, we left our Christmas shit up until March. Dude, you can so tell the type of family inside but he decorations outside. Especially when they’re up and it’s warm outside because it’s March. Oh man, that was a chaotic year. I think someone died that year too.
Dude, what are your new years plans? Do you know what I’ve like never had a GREAT new years. They’ve always just been ok. And involve planning new years night on new years night. Which is terrible. This year we have a plan. YESSSSS. Dude, if I buy a ticket to St. Louis to come visit you next year, I can write my sign off like “I’ll meet you in St. Louis.” That’s kewl.
Yeah, except Saint Louis is where dreams go to die. The suburbs are where it’s at. O’Fallon, MO represent!
Ha ha, Butcracker–doesn’t really get better than that LIFE!! I like how I can go from calm to irrate in one sentence. Whatever.
Are you ready for Christmas? As if it blasts off or something. Of course I am ready, now. Last night I had a Christmas melt down. In my mind everything has to be just perfect, and then I drive my LeBarron off a bridge.
So, I gave up on my perfect Christmas dream of everything being so so, and instead, accepted my short-commings in favor of a happier, more enjoyable Christmas experience. Who cares if I got my brother a 5 pack of white tank tops, or if my Christmas wrapping is a grocery bag because hey! This year you get me. And that is a perfect Christmas.
Wait a minute…you mean to tell me that you are actually sick? And here I thought this whole time you were faking it. Go figure.
In other news–i say God damn Prince Harry is fine. What a hunk. He looks way more American than British. Like, he has muscles. If only he gave up that English saddle for a Western. A girl can dream.
The first horse I ever rode was named Bill, the second, Big Red. It’s funny, remembering the latter, I realize that then, I thought he was named after the cinnamon gum! The fillies of youth.
Did you know that the exorbitant use of cinnamon is an American thing? Like, other countries don’t have cinnamon flavored gum or toothpaste. Whoa.
You know how people use periods in between words to add emphasis? I don’t know how I feel about that.
This week in French class, during our break when we stand around the water cooler drinking tea and attempting French conversation we talked about Swan Lake and Tchaikovsky all because there was a nutcracker on top of the microwave. Like, when would I ever have a conversation where everyone participating had an opinion about ballet? The Polish lady said she saw Swan Lake in Paris and the French guy said his sister is a ballerina in New York. We really get wild at French lessons.
Derek told me we, and when I say we I mean humans, found a catalyst thing for matter. Like, its this magnet thing (but not an actual magnet) that attracts electrons so they can form matter. I said “what does this mean?” He said, “if we know how to make matter, then maybe we will know how to unmake it (at this point I should remove the quotes because essentially I am making this up) and we will be able to walk through walls.”
Needless to say, this week: mind. blown.
First of all, I can’t find you on twitter. Effing twitter dude, I don’t find it easy to use. If anyone is reading this besides my stupid friend Jess, can you please help @fibromyawesome find @mystupidfriendJ. Because thus far I have failed.
Dude the matter thing is crazy. My mom and I have been watching “Through the Worm Hole” which is narrated by Morgan Freeman, the best narrator in the universe..ever…And it’s just insane. I sit there watching it thinking about time and space and black holes and anti-matter and the possibility of time travel and I feel like even the idea of comprehending those things makes my head explode. Then I turn the channel and watch the Kardashians. That Scott character is great.
I never knew you rode horses. I can’t really imagine you on a horse. I feel like the horse wouldn’t take you seriously. LIke you kick your heels to make the thing “go” and it would just turn around and look at you. Then we’d have a laugh. That’s how I imagine riding horses with you would go. I used to ride horses in Colorado. After I got sick I had to quit gymnastics and I got all depressed because I tried other sports and I was absolutely terrible. So we tried riding and I rode one named Cactus, who liked to bite. But he was a good horse. I think Big Red is a great name, and maybe he WAS named after the gum dude. I was watching Say Yes to the Dress yesterday and this girls name was “Duvet”. Yes, as in the comforter cover. They asked her mom why they picked that name and she said “Because we knew she would bring us comfort.” Yeah. Let that swirl around a while.
What else. The Nutcracker is so good, I love listening to it. I was typing it into Itunes the other day and I accidentally wrote Butcracker. I laughed alone for 5 minutes. That moment alone I think made my life complete.
Find me on Twitter!
I felt that since its December I should write something here to you Jess. Also I only found this page in December.
I intend to ask a new question every month until I die. Or get bored or forget. I feel Mary is too popular so instead I will access her through the equally awesome but less-in-demand friend. It’s like hitting on Robin (he’s gay*) so you can meet Batman.
Question 1: Who is your all-time favorite Wrestler?
* I’m not**
** Or am I?
Rulon Gardner, duh. But if we are talking about professional wrestling then Macho Man Randy Savage.
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Mary, your poems suck. They don’t even rhyme.
I’ve got one:
Then I fastballed my face
Jess, Prodigal Vespers was really good. I connected with it, strongly. It’s fun when you are mean to me. Remember that one time in France, you kept stating what a lame name “Mary” is. “But seriously guys, Mary is SUCH a lame name. But it IS fun to say. MYYYARY.” Thanks Jess. Thanks a lot.
Today, and I use today in the figurative sense, I am on board with the name Mary. It rules. It also turned me on to Biblical names, which also rule. And now, I like Mary double names like MaryAnn. My world has opened up like a can of sardines, which reminds me of a factoid from a Snapple bottle cap: the can opener was invented 40 years after the can. Like Joey says “Whoa Six!” And Mary, what is that noise? Oh yeah, its me snapping for you poems. Kudos. You rock.
Awesome! Much needed comic relief :) Can’t wait for your book.
You two are real funny, very entertaining. I read from start to end, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I can’t wait for that book you two are writing!
Did your brother accidentally use the aloe vera gel as hair gel?
My first roommate ever, well, besides that one summer when my family lived in an apartment and I had to share a room with my brother, which wasn’t nearly as bad as it would seem except that he was 16 and I was 12 and there was that one incident with the aloe vera gel. I won’t go there, but for me, it was the best summer of my life– except for the next summer when I starred in our community theater play–because the apartment complex had a pool AND a vending machine. That’s right: swimming and unlimited snacks. Winner me.
Fast-forward to my freshman year at college when I had technically my second but more like my first real roommate. We would braid each others hair and talk about our periods. You know, usual roommate stuff, except we hated each other and it was more like me coming home drunk and her praying under her desk.
Well, she was super into snap shots, which she liked to call photography, and her favorite shot–the one she displayed as her desktop wallpaper–was one of her feet in flip-flops against what looked to be a cement background.
I spent many hours contemplating this image and I concluded that she was roaming around her neiborhood looking for things to shoot, when she stumbled upon a storm sewer. She thought, “Oh cool, I love how the metalic oil stains on the cement reflect God’s rainbow.” She then, layed down in the storm sewer and propped up her feet on the side of the drain and took the glorious picture.
That is how I thought of her: everyday, lying in a storm drain taking pictures of her feet. If only we were friends on facebook
Dude I miss having a college roomate with whom I could braid her hair and we could talk about periods. There’s really nothing like the bond formed when living with someone in a 15 x 15 box with bunk beds.
Dude, I bet your roomate was scared to DEATH of you. Like I bet after your first conversation, she called her mom and all of her friends and her boyfriend who was probably named Bruce and was like in tears saying “Omg, she’s just so weird. You should see her shoe collection.” Then some nights you’d stumble home drunk and she’d have to pretend like she was sleeping and you’d be SO clumsy knocking shit over and probably saying out loud “OOPSE” and “Oh MY” and she just had to lay there…listening to third eye blind, not saying a word. And her picture sounds cool. See if you can track it down!!
OMG! I used to listen to Third Eye Blind when i shared that room with my brother! That and that one song about ch-ch-cherry cola by Savage Garden.
And you are right! The look in her eyes was pure horror after we had our first face-to-face conversation. That coupled with my Harry Potter calendar with a giant picture of a gobblin with a stick in its eye.
I can’t believe I read the whole thing. I guess I find the two of you highly entertaining.
You both crack me up. One of my friends from high school writes for xojane. You’re right,
You women crack me up. An old friend from my high school days is a writer at xojane. LMAO
Haha I messed up my email address
Your post on CURSE words: Part Deux (and i abandoned swear because I’ll be damned if I’m called a Yank! Unless my great-grandfather indeed did battle for the north then BURN THOSE DIXIE DOLLARS THE SOUTH WILL NEVER RISE AGAIN!)
A few years ago, I used to watch this web-show where every week they would have a topic and then a bunch of mommy-bloggers would record themslves sitting on the floor in front of their bed blabbering on and on about that weeks topic as if what was coming out of their mouth wasn’t a bunch of dog shit.
Well, this one week the show was about CURSE words and wheither or not blah blah blah. One special mommy-blogger said she liked using curse words in her writing because she liked the–get this–juxtaposition of her prose against the dirty F-bombs.
So here is my stance on curse words: I fucking hate when people use the word juxtaposition.
Couldn’t agree more. Your accurate social observations juxtaposed with clumsy diction is totally relatable to me. SEE WHAT I DID THERE?
Dude, kill me if I turn into a mommmy video-taping myself talking about somebodies stance on something. But you know, I plan to be a mom one day. I really want to have a whole tribe of children, mostly so they can do all the chores around the house. That’s what’s my mom did and it totally worked. Anyway, what then? What will I blog about when I’m a mom? I’m totally going to start sneaking in life lessons out of dirty diapers and whole made baby food. Owell. At least there’s a niche market for that.
Anyway, I feel your anger about juxtaposition. Because I feel the same way about the word “disoriented.” I was in a month long writing workshop once, and everyone kept saying “I felt very disoriented the whole time.” “Your words are disorienting.” This one woman with short hair held her hand to heart and said “I was just so disoriented the whole time.” I wanted to puke. I mean yeah, my story made NO sense, but come on. They just weren’t using their imaginations. And they were all making love to that word. Gross. Another word people are having love affairs with is PLETHORA. It’s like some frat kid was studying for the ACT and was like, whoa, I need to start using this in my everyday vernacular. I just bought a plethora of beer. We killed a plethora of animals this weekend. I have a plethora of sexually trasmitted diseases. Anyway I think that one needs to be retired too.
Let’s talk about our favorite words now.My favorite word is Jess. No no no. When I used to be asked what my favorite word was, I would say garbonzo, like the bean. But I think I was just saying that to be funny. I don’t actually love that word. I love the word Monty. It makes me happy.
You’re kind of amazing. Fuck it. You’re my new favorite.
whoever you are, I love you right now. not in a gay way, just in a MAD RESPECT kinda way. I fucking hate ‘juxtaposition’ too. Juxtaposers, yuck.
Have a lovely day type thing.
Your post about swear words reminds me of this one time this one lady pissed me off. Related: I read that southern folk say curse words and yanks say swear words. I grew up saying curse but then I read that article and switched to swear as to appear more pro-Union, but now, my great-grandpa may have fought on the red side during the civil war. If so, I will have to switch back to curse and my grave will then have to face south.
Judging by the way you use the “chin method” to count syllables, I’d guess you were a yank. Also, how to you say the word caramel? With two syllables? Or three. This will tell us everything.
Two syllables, baby!!
Just as I thought. Total Yank. It’s settled.
That salt in the lake shit reminds me of the novel Siddhartha. Now, that is a good book. “During the time of the Buddha, we follow a boy on his spiritual journey into and throughout manhood.” Who couldn’t get down with that?
Lately, I have been into circles. Like, with the above paragraph, it both starts and ends with the word THAT, which makes me think of the outtakes from Meet the Parents when Ben Stiller’s character is doing Kung Fu into the Nanny Cam. He says something to the effect of “And how do you like THAT!” Then, the camera breaks, the credits roll and all you are left with is the reverb of THAT. Someone has GOT to know what I am talking about, lately.
My favorite Thanksgiving memory has to be getting a rug burn on my tummy from sliding down my Aunt’s steps. Or the one year when my one cousin sprayed my other cousin with mase.
Totes know what you are talking about. Ben Stiller says, “Can you handle THAT?!” It was one of the enjoyable parts of the movie. Unless you love to be uncomfortable, then you would enjoy all of it.
It’s funny that 1. you’re into circles and 2. you got a rug burn on your tummy, because I’m about to bring this FULL CIRCLE. Remember in France when you tried to smother the flame of a burning shot of sambuca and instead your hand got suctioned to the shot glass, and since you were holding a cigarette in your other hand your reaction time was slow and the end result was this perfectly round 3rd degree burn on the palm of your hand? A perfect circle. It was like you were a posessed character from that movie The Ring, only a satirical version of it. But the best part of the story is, you didn’t tell ANYONE at the party about what had happened to your hand. All you did was whisper my name, and when I turned around, you held out your hand all ashamed-like. I gasped quietly in horror and I wanted to tell someone because it was a bad burn and we probably should have done something about it, but you wouldn’t let me. And instead of disagreeing with your stubborn ass like I should have done, I agreed to keep it a secret. As if THAT was the best solution to that situation. Man, sometimes we do not solve problems well together. Consequently, you had a ring burned onto your palm for the next few months at LEAST, and for a while had to wrap your hands in white tape and second skin. Those were the days.
I’ve never read Siddhartha.
Funny how we remember things. My version of the story is more like this:
After I had burned a ring into my palm, I whisper to Mary, “heeeeey Mary, I’m about to show you something but don’t freak out,” and guess what happened? You freaked out. You yelled and made a scene. Luckily for me and my pride, your behavior was not ruled out of the ordinary and no one noticed. I’m just glad that ring healed up before my Mom saw.
And guess what?! I wrote this on my phone! Progress. I should run for President.
For years, I tell everyone my favorite band is U2 and REM can shove off. But you know what? I really like REM. I might even like them more than U2. Like, duh, of course I like them more than U2.
But now that I type those words, all of U2’s epic rock stylings wash over my body and I have to recognize how much I love that song Beautiful Day. So which song do I like better? Beautiful Day or What’s the Frequency, Kenneth? Life is a peach–so juicy you have to eat it over the sink.
(This is where I would embed videos to those songs, but I am not the admin. So here are links: visit on your own time http://youtu.be/co6WMzDOh1o and http://youtu.be/jWkMhCLkVOg)
It’s funny how the perception of one’s self differs from the truth. Like, I forever thought I was even tempered and laid back. NOT TRUE. What I am is understanding and tolerant of different points of view. But, I am not laid back about it. Like, I am indifferent about spelling correctly, but if you happen to think spelling is important then awesome! Good for you. But shove off. I hate your point of view.
Or at work, I would have never described myself as having an acute attention to detail. When actually, I notice EVERYTHING. Observing detail is why I still exist.
What about you Mary? Do you have any REM sucks but not really–you’ll love this–ah ha moments?
OMG, when Michael Stipe sings “I couldn’t understand” during What’s the Frequency, Kenneth. Chills. Like, he understands me. BTW, I heard on the radio that he smells real bad. FYI.
Hmm, not really. I don’t listen to terrible music like U2. I listen to quality music, like Ke$ha and Kanye West. It’s the 90’s Jess. Get with it.
I love Ke$ha. That song Blow really does it for me.
Have you read XOJANE.com? All the posts are about depressed women who have drug problems.
I don’t get it. Why can’t we have a site with a bunch of happy women who have their shit together. Now, THAT would be inspiring.
Do you know a bunch of happy women who have their shit together? I do not. Just kidding. Actually I am thinking of three relationships right now in which the girl is supporting the boy. It’s funny because none of them are exactly happy about it. But if it was the other way around, the boy would be happy to be supporting the girl. Gender roles. They’re cray cray.
In the Economist, one of the columnist wrote that if Barak Obama doesn’t become more moderate he will lose the election and become unemployed like everyone else.
I like flags—a lot. They are so pretty. When I get older, I am totally going to have a flag pole in my yard.
Anchorman is still a funny movie.
Agreed. With all of it.
Recently, I got one of those data plans for my phone. Now, I can access the Web and my Facebook app.
You know what happened? My brain bled out through my ears. I do NOT like having a data plan. Why does everything have to be synced? Why do I have to be connected?
I think I am a Luddite.
What is a Luddite? Dude, having web access on your phone is out of control. I mean, I have it. I have the iphone 4. But it’s out of control. All I do is read people’s facebook statuses and think about how dumb we must seem to our grandparents generation. Can you imagine if we had facebook during the depression or the second world war? People’s statuses would be like “Ugh, what is up with Hitler’s mustache? He needs to shave ASAP!” and then like 40 people would “LIke” it and someone would comment “I know, my dad has one too. I hate it.” Or what if Hitler had a facebook page? I wonder what THAT would look like.
Oprah is entertaining. Period. I just don’t think you need to take everything she says as truths. She is like those Kardashians. Especially, that Kim. Like, for real? You thought that was a legit marriage? No way. Nobody has that many dresses if its a real marriage.
I am obsessed with celebrate plastic surgery and fillers and Botox. Why do people do that to their face? It’s so weird that these famous people would rather look alien than have a few age lines. Look at some before and after pictures. Like Lindsay Lohan. Why did she get fillers? She is 25. Did she really have a problem with how she looked? It’s like alien is the new standard of beauty. The year 2000 is cray. A for real Twilight Zone.
If I was a celebrate and had to get plastic surgery, I would probably Botox the shit out of my neck. That is where I would spend the money.
And celebrate is the new word for celebrity…these are truths.
Oprah is awesome. On her new network, she has this one hour show called Life Class. Dude, it’s amazing. It’s the shit we should really be learning about. I’m telling you, it’s really good. As for Kim K I guess you’re right. I was surprised she had three dresses. Maybe she just wanted to play dressup and have pictures taken. Lindsey Lohan…what happened there… Do you ever watch the parent trap movie? She was so adorable then…now she is alien. It’s sad really. But who are we kidding, it’s not sad. The public loves to see public figures crash and burn. Just look at Charlie Sheen. People were celebrating his psychotic break! And then decided he was a comedian, and were dissapointed when they went to his show and he bombed. It’s like, duh, that is NOT going to be a good show. That would be like Britney Spears taking a comedy tour after she attacked that paparzzi car with an umbrella. Funny, but not comedy show funny.
If I had to get plastic surgery, I would remove this little pouch under my chin. I’ve never liked it.
Dude, what in the hell crazy ass school did you go to that uses the dropped chin method to find out the number of syllables in a word? That is NON SENSE! Really. Don’t use that method. Clapping works way better. Clap-ping. 2 syllables. Sound it out. I mean clap it out.
Dude my categories are really depressing. Death, dying, dreaming. Dreaming about death and dying. Haha. I need to put some positive categories up. Liiike: All the fun I had in bed yesterday!! Just kidding. Wow I can’t even JOKE about positive categories! This is getting serious.
Dude, I can’t believe you called Oprah a piece of shit. Have you watched her Life Class on her new network? It’s really good. Like the last episode was about joy, and they showed this dog that walked on two legs, because it only had two legs. I watched and thought, God, I’m such a piece of shit. Like a four legged animal hops around on two legs all day and I’m fatigued and write a blog about it. How lame! But seriously, it’s a good show. But you’re right, life is hard. Some days life is FUCKING HARD. I rarely say the F word, but when both your dad dies and then your step dad dies it’s like What the Fuck!
Sorry to hear Dereks health is troubling him. What I like to do when I’m not feeling well is something creative. It helps me feel like I’m not totally powerless. Or I watch Frazier. Either one.
Dude can you believe Kim Kardashian is already divorced? I really thought that was going to last longer. For real! They looked all in love and stuff on that trip to Bora Bora or wherever they went. My favorite character from that show is Scott. That guy is awesome.
I just looked up and saw that four of my five paragraphs begin with the word “Dude.” Maybe I need to work on word choice. Ugh, it was supposed to storm this morning but all that’s happened is major cloud coverage and wind but no rain. What a let-down! And don’t talk about scabs Jess, that’s gross! I even hate the word scab. I think I am traumatized because this kid named Nick Gumbpert in fourth grade ATE his scab off his elbow and I threw up in my mouth. Absolutely true story. I just gagged a little writing about it. I’m going to go drink some tea.
You know what is my favorite part of your blog? The categories!! So far: death, dying, migraines, chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalsia.
Can’t wait for tomorrow!
wait…and dreams. I forgot about dreams.
Hey MARRRRRY!! I love how if I want to write a post on your blog, first, I have to click on something that says MY Stupid Friend Jess, and then, I get to see THAT picture.
It’s all about the small things in life. Like yesterday, when the UPS guy thought it was so cool how our office on the 5th floor received 5 packages that day. It really made his day. I could see it in how the lights reflected off his eyeballs…
and when Derek drove past a sign at the local butcher shop that read FREASH instead of FRESH. He really liked that. I could tell by how he said that he knew the guy who owned the store and he was not surprised at all by the sign.
And on Wednesday, my scab fell off! The scab from where a wasp flew into the car and collided with my chest. That was a big day. But you know what day was even bigger? The day I noticed a scab existed in the first place! That meant I wouldn’t need to see a doctor. It meant I wasn’t Jeff Goldblumming it and my DNA weren’t spliced with wasp!
Have you ever clapped out the word Fire? You will get two claps. Have you ever felt your chin drop when you say Fire? You will get one drop. Which is it? One syllable or two syllables? My choice method for syllable tests is the chin test. It is superior to clap-it-out. Derek thinks people who prefer the clap method are too stupid to use the chin. So why don’t you think about that Mary. Because I know you clap the shit out of some words.
I am thinking a lot about Derek today. He is having a hard time with his health–like you Mary. Bodies are hard. It’s like the bible says, we are not the flesh but the soul. My question to that is then how do you explain mental problems. Because that seems like the soul to me. Like anxiety–Is that the flesh or the soul? Thanks God.
Today, me and my dad ate breakfast at Cracker Barrel then we did our banking. The only bad part about banking with your father is that he knows how much money you have. Lessons learned. Today, I am smarter than yesterday.
and Oprah is a piece of shit. Life is hard Mary. It is not easy. Think about a blade of grass. First, its seed has to land on a piece of fertile soil. Then, it has to burry itself into the fertile soil. Finally, it has to grow out of the very soil it buried it’s self in. I don’t really see how the grass made this difficult for it’s self. This is life. If it wasn’t a hard-ass mother-fucker Oprah would not be a billionaire.
Jess, there is no reason to get down on yourself about being a receptionist. Let’s get real. You make GREAT money, and you don’t do shit. I’m pretty sure that’s the American dream right there. And you’re not considering all the Great American Receptionists who preceeded you. I don’t know their names but I am certain they exist. Or did. And also, if you were anything else, say a lawyer or doctor, (oh god, just thought of you as a doctor) how would you have time to correspond with me via text all day? And write this blog? And read all those celebrity blogs you love? The quick answer is you wouldn’t, and since I don’t have shit to do but be sick and talk to people I like, I would suffer due to YOUR job choice. So it’s a good thing Jess. A great thing.
And let’s talk about haircuts for a second. First off, I really dislike talking to the person cutting my hair. Unless like, YOU were cutting my hair, I just really don’t want to talk about my job, life, or family to someone who just scrubbed my scalp. Plus I don’t believe in multi-tasking and it’s like look, do one thing and do it well. My hair. No talking.
I do agree that your life is a well set up joke, but the punch line is awesome, which is the opposite of terrible. So I’m glad to hear you don’t hang out with those people anymore.
OK the graveyard story is cool. But what I find more interesting is that your great great grandfathers name was Hypolite!?! We need to bring THAT name back. OK dude I feel like I’m dying, I’m going to go sleep for a couple days.
Was I in your dream Mary? Was it me!? or was it your other friend Jess?
If it was me, then, of course I got out of those twigs first. Duh. Remember how I saved that baby?
You know what I feel when I think of saving that baby: embarrassed. You know why? Because I messed up my french when I called that baby ton bebe. Looking back, I obviously should have said ta bebe because bebe is a feminine word in french, and if I want to be totally particular, I should have said votre bebe because that is formal. That sums up what it is like learning a new language: always feeling inadequate. What fun!
Two nights ago, I got my hair cut. This is what happened:
Girl: So, like, what do you do for a job?
Me: I am a receptionist.
Girl: Did you like go to college for that?
This is my life. Someone once said my life is like a well set up joke with a terrrible punch line. I don’t hang out with those people any more.
My life is awesome! The midwest really kicks ass in the fall. Right now, the fields are on fire. At sunset, the wheat turns orange and the sky pink. Blows my mind. You know what else blows my mind? The Missouri and Mississippi rivers. Hell yeah. Those rivers are beasts and I cross the Missouri every day on the way to my receptionist career.
In the family grave yard, you know who is burried there? My grandparents! Duh. But you know who else is burried there: Toussaint Charbonneau. That’s right, Sacagawea’s husband. So like, the family grave yard is small, and all of my family is burried there, which means my great-grandpa Francis or maybe my great-great-grandpa Hypolite used to roll with Toussaint! Like, he probably broke bread with my people.
And here is to breaking bread and eating it. Here! Here! Three Cheers! Mary gained weight and I gained weight and now we both look normal and not dead, thanks to the bread. enough said.
Fair enough. But I bet you didn’t gain FIFTEEN POUNDS like I did! My jeans are craaazy tight. If there is a situation where my pants need to come off fast, I’m screwed. Hands down. And I don’t have money to buy more so I really hope I stay at this weight. If I am to stay on this track of weight gain I will be 150 lbs by 2012. I need to drink more water, or try out anorexia.
I’m excited to see your progress on the diving. Last I saw you, you still had the shakes in your hands, and I would’ve never guessed you to be a graceful diver. Or a graceful anything. But I have all the confidence of the world in you Jess. Remember when you saved that baby in France? (If anyone else is reading this, Jess spotted a baby in a stroller one night in the South of France that was about to fall out, and the mom was all busy drinking vino and didn’t notice. So Jess said in a poor french accent: TON BEBE! TON BEBE!! We all watched in awe.) It was one of your finer moments I’d say.
I can’t believe you order water on the plane, it’s so boring. My mom orders bloody mary mix sans alcohol. She says it’s the best source of electrolytes, and the tastiest. I think she’s right! I’m going to start ordering that. I’m impressed you drink so much water. I never drink that much water. I’m never really thirsty. Speaking of flights have you checked out that show PAN AM? I caught it in our hotel room. It seems like it’s ripping off Mad Men a little bit, but you can tell it’s going to be a hit. Pretty girls. Mean, drunk, misogynistic men, and an underlying plot that deals with the FBI. All the correct ingredients for men and women to sit and watch a show together.
I didn’t do any reading on my trip. Not even gossip magazine reading, which is typically what I read on flights because it makes the time pass so quick. I bet you don’t even buy those magazines not because you’re reading better material, but because you love those blogs which cover celebrity gossip and you’re usually up-to date on all that. What’s the latest?
OMG, I love ginger ale, but on a plane I usually get water even though on Oprah this girl did a science experiment testing ice on planes and the results were super contaminated ice. Like gross. So i usually get water without ice but it always comes back with ice anyway.
If I am not getting water, and I only get water because you are supposed to drink mass amounts of fluids while traveling (that is what my study abroad coordinator said.) Ew, yesterday I read that you are supposed to drink one eight ounce glass of water for every 10 pounds you have. That’s like 14 glasses of water. Who has time for that. I usually drink about nine glasses of water a day and after I get my daily water then I switch over to Coke or Pepsi. But if I am not getting water on a plane then I am getting a pepsi or a gin and tonic; however, I am not a fan of drinking while flying because I like to dance, move about, talk really loud, and pee nonstop when I’m drinking so a plane isn’t really a good place for all that.
And Mary, the only reason why I did not want to swan dive into the Pacific to save those hoodlum children is because the water was too cold and because I had yet to commence my swan dive training. Duh. I was not yet a master diver. My best dive this summer was an 8. When I start getting consistent 10s then maybe I will move up to spring board then maybe a cliff, so your looking at a solid two more years of training before I can use my skills for a rescue.
The only reason that small cliff was impassible was because I had to clime down barefoot. The skin on the bottoms of my feet are so smooth and soft like a fairy that sharp rocks make it impossible to navigate shoeless. And my jeans were to tight because I gained weight. so Thanks Mary. Thanks a lot.
It’s interesting to me that you consider yourself a cliff diver. Remember when we were in California and after you yelled at that tribe of children for playing too near the water (you were stoned and you didn’t want to go off and have to save one of them if they fell in) Well after that, we had to climb down a little cliff to get down to the beach, and…well…you had quite a time. Luckily Carlos was there to quasi save you from yourself. Post the video Jess. The world needs to see. OK I’m going to start calling sunglasses cheaters too! And maybe I’ll pretend to read TLOTLT while I stare at people.
Jess do you order ginger ale on the plane? I feel like it’s a staple plane beverage.
RE: Miami: I always wear cheaters at the airport. What is your problem Mary–besides your immune system? One time–LAS to STL–I even wore them on the plane.
Recently, I read THE LOVE OF THE LAST TYCOON, which is F. Scott Fitzgerald’s final novel (he never finished it because he died.) He is my favorite author because he writes about an era I will never know personally, but I feel as if I could when I read his stories. Especially, the short about a girl on a boat who swan dives off cliffs (you should see my dives. One day I will be able to do the same. I have been practicing all summer. So much so, I even dived into a lake wearing someone else’s expensive sun glasses. They are still at the bottom of the lake.) Well, in TLOTLT, he refers to shaded eye wear as cheaters and I was like “Oh my god! If I start calling sun glasses cheaters I will become even more interesting to myself!”