-Shoes
-Black Shoes
-Makeup
-Watches
-Earrings
-Skeins of Yarn
-Knitting Patterns
-Purses
-Gadgets
-Good Friends
-Naps
-Orgasms

Did I shock ya? I was paging through the latest Sephora catalog, and almost fell over myself. (You know how reactionary I get with the physical comedy.) There is a makeup set called “Multiple Orgasm”. Don’t believe me? See it here. Now, I’m all for makeup sets & making oneself attractive & all the fun of being a girl (or drag queen) and playing with makeup. But even me, Miss Jaded & Seen It All, never thought she’d see makeup named as such, and described as giving one The Look of Multiple Orgasms. (They did so in the catalog, not so much on the web page.) Mind you, I’m not rallying the Parents Against Everything On Television, and it made me raise an eyebrow and chuckle at the same time. I think it’s such a funny dichotomy in which we live, where we are bombarded with sexual messages & imagery at every turn, YET, one lonely nipple on the Super Bowl gets everyone’s wardrobe in a bunch and censorship gets another surge. Maybe it’s not you or me in particular getting wound up – it’s more those political chumps. But tell me those same chumps don’t have a stack of porn in their nightstand, or get their kink out by wearing women’s shoes & hosiery. It’s going to take a long time, I guess, to get over our Puritanical roots and fears. That said, it’s my opinion that some of the people in the media’s eye should just walk around naked and be done with it (Paris Hilton, Li’l Kim, Christina Aguilara) – they’d probably look less trashy than they do in their outfits designed (I use that word loosely) to titillate and tease.

I guess it’s my own sensibilities, shaped more by my father’s influence than society – perhaps because I was raised without television, or even Cosmo magazine for that matter. He cautioned me against excessive makeup and perfume (“no one should know unless they are VERY close to you”) and that maintaining a little mystery was more attractive than putting it all out there, so to speak. Maybe that’s a little Puritan, maybe it’s just tasteful by our societal standards. All I know is that there’s a line – in all of us, and in society, the fine balance between repression and expression. (Just as there is between good taste & bad – yet it is all subjective.) We can take some of our discomfort and see it as a reason to examine our own issues, why something would make us uncomfortable, or sometimes, it’s just reason to roll our eyes at how ‘out there’ or blatant something is. My reaction to the Nars makeup was more along the lines of leaving a little mystery. To me, things like “pouting, bee-stung lips” or “warming blush” are sexier descriptors than the clinical, albeit straightforward, “multiple orgasms”. But hey, it sure worked to catch my eye on the page – and then spend time writing a blog about it!

And really, it all boils down to one question: is that the makeup look I want to wear to the office? (and THAT makes me laugh.)

(yeah, and what the hell is up with getting up at 4 a.m. on a Saturday? I absent-mindedly & completely skipped my daily coffee/Diet Coke fix yesterday & had a junkie’s withdrawal-headache wake me up this morning. So you know who’s nappin’ today!)

OK, I have today off. BLESS IT. It was that or I was going to rip a couple people’s heads off and take them bowling. Not necessarily in that order, but have no doubt, heads were gonna roll. My boss actually called me an “ass clown”* yesterday to finally break through my angry swearing banter, and it CHEERED ME UP. How many jobs do you get to say THAT in, I ask you????

(*I kid you not, he said, “ass clown”: that’s a sign of a motherfuckin’ good boss, too. He even said it was a good idea, when I stated I was gonna kick a certain individual’s ass. Said, “It needs to happen.” I know I can’t actually go and do it, but the shared sentiment goes a looooong way.)

So today, I give you a smattering of things that made me laugh this week.

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From one of my favoritest shows on TV right now, “My Name Is Earl”:
“Some people were born to be super pretty, some people were born to be knife throwers.”

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JWo threw out the smartass question, “What rhymes with purple?”
My snappy comeback? “Orange.”

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Did you know I’m the Gadget Queen? I love me the gadgets. LOVE them. I always want something new. So I see a T-Mobile commercial (and we’re T-Mobile customers), and I state, “I NEED a Sidekick.”

JWo, doesn’t even look up: “POLLY’S your sidekick!”

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JWo: “Don’t you have book club tonight?”
Me (exasperated): “NO James, it’s not every week! It’s every 5-6 weeks.”
JWo: “Well. The Evelyn Woods Book Club meets every two days.”

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So, on the calendar for today: this morning, meet with a woman who cleans houses, and determine if she has the fortitude, strength & dedication to take our house on. It is not dissimilar to becoming a Green Beret, in my opinion. I will be shouting at her like a drill sergeant to see if she flinches. Then I get my hair cut, and I’m currently plotting lunch plans right now. I may take a page from Miss Bekah, and have me some adult beverages tonight! It’s that or run around the neighborhood, shrieking like a howler monkey to burn off some steam. Maybe I’ll do both…. Happy Friday, everyone!

You know, those big stick thingies that they swing around a lot in the Kung Fu type movies, Jackie Chan’s used one, makes that excellent WHUH WHUH WHUH whipping sound through the air?

That is what this week has been. I feel like I’m wearing soft slipper shoes & I’m bouncing all around in the trees, whUH WHUH WHUH whacking shit and grabby hands while I travel across the entire landscape. And while I’m doing it without falling down, I’m getting a leeeetle tired of it. For whatever reason, I’m not allowed to smack people in the FACE with my stick thingy, and that’s where I’d get some joy.

Someone toss me the numchuks! Unfortunately, with my hand-eye coordination (or lack thereof), I would end up spiking myself right in the face. Seriously. I can’t even shoot a rubber band without hurting myself. It’s a wonder I don’t just trip & fall down, every single day.

Instead of the blog I was GOING to write today, on Sex and Marketing, you have to put up with some ranting & my desire to swat the entire Kansas Board of Education, along with CBS’ Early Show, for putting Jerry Falwell on the television, at least they had Bill Nye the Science Guy to counter him, but then? then? THEN? They put a third person, a comedienne, to just crack jokes. How about we get the Irish Spring dude in the third window when we interview some folks who survived Auschwitz? That would be funny, too! Hey, you know me, anytime we can throw political correctedness out the window, I’m the first one at the sill.

THWACKETY-THWACK THWACK THWACK! The swatting has commenced.

OK, so they put these new automatic flushers on the toilets at work. I’m not sure what the point is, except I guess to eliminate the chance that someone is behaving like they’re 8, and not flushing after they use the facilities.

But here’s the deal: right before the automatic flush occurs? The thingy makes a sound. It makes a sound not unlike a baby raptor, from Jurassic Park. Which is arguably a little disconcerting, given that one is seated an in a semi-vulnerable state of undress; if for some reason you are using the bathroom as a personal 5-minute escape from stress, it is actually alarming. I seriously expected to turn around and see a green head with a mouth full of fangs coming out of the wall. FABulous, dahling! Good thing my pants are off already, otherwise I might have shat them.

Now, yesterday, I don’t know what the deal was, but the flusher just started Cah-RAWH! flushing. And Cah-RAWH! flushing. And Cah-RAWH! flushing. Any notion I had that this was a way to conserve water was gone. It was not unlike when the waiter tries to take your plate away, but you’re not quite done eating? Hey? hey? hey? Not so fast, Mister! Usually I just stab the waiter with my fork, but this was different. I had no fork, and the baby raptors were squawking, repeatedly. The last bastion of peace & quiet has been eliminated, and I hustled out of there.

I just thought I should point out that it’s NOVEMBER. November the Seventh. As in, the month before Christmas. NO-VEM-BER. Let’s focus on the last syllable, “BER” or, as it often is around this time of year, “BRRRR”.

It is 70 degrees outside. I had to put the air conditioning on IN MY CAR after our big presentation today. WTF?!?!

Now, understand this, what with the “natural gas crisis” and the fact I spent $200 on electric blankets this weekend, I’m not in any big hurry to crank up the furnace. BUT. Seriously. The a/c? Someone’s snoozing on the job. Or, as my crazy brain would think as a young girl, “Ceres is able to keep Persephone with her longer right now” and only the Greek Mythology nerds out there will nod their heads.

And? The presentation went well. Even if we don’t get the business, I am reminded of two Very Important Things: I like the people I work with immensely, and I am respected for what I think and do. And my big boss bought me a margarita at lunch and I need to go to sleep now.

I’ve learned about the howler monkeys from watching Survivor. {Let us pause for one minute to SCREAM about how disappointed we are in the “good” people on the winning tribe and the fact they kept Jamie and voted off Brandon. BITCHES! RAFE! I am so disappointed in you, you would cry if I told you. :BITCHSLAPS:}

So, I realize I don’t do a very good imitation of le Howler Mihnkeys, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. I only do it once, not on repeat command, so you better have your video recorders ready if I decide to start hooting. (I was describing them to my brother-in-law on Friday night since we were forcing him to watch the DVR’d show. Descriptions are better with sound, I think.)

Today I feel like a Howler Monkey, because I have 800 things to do, have been going at a pretty good clip all weekend, and I have to go in to the office today to prepare for a new business pitch, which is tomorrow morning! I just wanna sit on the couch, knit, watch a movie, and drink hot tea. SUCKAH! HOOO HOOOO HOOOO HOOOOOOOOO you don’t get to! So it makes me want to hoot really loudly for no reason other than to be loud and annoying, because I am annoyed and therefore everyone else around me should be, too. And Howler Monkeys are the loudest animals in the world. I would give them a run for their bananas today! Honestly, I think it’s less about the sound they make but the facial expression & bared teeth when they make their howling. It’s a good look on me, and perhaps I’ll use it in the new business pitch. Weeeell….. maybe not.

So, you remember Wednesday? A Day of Great Wound-Uppedness? A Day of Biting Off the Heads of Bats?

I had to call a company to get some rate information to advertise with them. I knew, per Kristin, these people didn’t have email. Because they work out of a cave with a card table and a phone line, I guess. So I’m chattin’ it up & telling him what I want to do (oh, hang on, he made me SPEAK SLOWER, never a good sign.) And at the end, I chirp, “Do you want my email address, do you want to just email that to me?”
Him: “We don’t have email. We’re not in the 21st century yet.”

And me, I get this flash of a zinger, and because I’m having a helluva day, I SAY IT. This rarely happens, because I try to keep all my Polite Filters in place, but something had jostled loose.

Me: “Oh! So. Are you calculating my rates with an abacus, too?”
(I hear Kristin start laaaaaaughing and saying something like ‘JENNIFER! YOU DIDNOT JUSTSAYTHAT!’)

And here’s the gem, because immediately, I felt contrite, even though yes, it was funny, but before I could even apologize for being a bitch, HERE’S HOW HE WON MY HEART:
He said, “Yeah! Can’t you hear the beads sliding in the background?”

And then we had a big laugh & I thanked him for being a good sport & said he was really funny, and I’d wait for the carrier pigeons to bring me the information (ok, I didn’t, I had already pushed my luck once.)

OH, and how I was talking on Wednesday about how to set my hair on fire? How fitting is this?

Your Hair Should Be Orange

Expressive, deep, and one of a kind. You pull off “weird” well – hardly anyone notices.

Today, Miss Pretty Polly is TWO. Two years old. Every squirming ounce of her is filled with joy at the world around her, and our lives are better because she is in it!

(Suzy says Happy Burfday, Polly, too! See? She even got her a PRESENT. Unfortunately, all we had was Xmas wrapping paper.)

1. Answer my “This is Jennifer” with “Hello, Jennifer, how are you?” when we’ve never spoken before & you haven’t introduced yourself yet. Category 4: Singe.
2. Tell me you understand I handle the advertising for a CLIENT I DON’T REPRESENT. And then? ARGUE WITH ME about that fact, that you understood I DID. Category 7: We Have Flammage.
3. THEN? THEN? Turn your fuck-up into a COLD CALL and start probing for what business I DO HANDLE. You know what that gets you? Category 12: Flames Licking The Ceiling, coupled with the tart, brittle response from me: “I’m not going to do your cold-calling research for you, GOODBYE.”

Time is money, motherfucker. (I would have enjoyed adding that. But I’m still polite. JUST NOT ON MY BLOG.)