Everyone should have a list.

As I write this I am supposed to be getting ready for my second date with [redacted]. He's a really nice guy but I find myself feeling a sense of dread every time we make plans. It's not him. I actually had a good time with him last time we went out. It's this part of relationships that I hate. The "Let's have awkward small talk and get to know each other."

Like most people in their mid-twenties, I have accumulated a laundry list of crap that I really try to stay away from discussing in the beginning of a relationship. It's hard to explain that my mom nver remaried after her divorce, but there's this guy who hangs out at our house all day and this woman who babysat me as a child is still around like a grandmother. Honestly, when I explain this, people ask how my Uncle Jesse is doing.

Everyone has their weird habits too. No one is normal. I wish that on all second dates (the first date is just a test drive to see if the person is generally in your own expectations of normal) each party had to show up with their list of weird shit that needs to be aired out before things went any further. Seriously, if you tend to be a gassy person, it owuld just be easier to say it up front put up front. That way those months of waiting for the other person to accidentally fart aren't as painful and the first slip of gas isn't as embrassing. Trust me, it's TERRIBLY embarassing when it does happen and yes, I've has the SATC moment where it happened one morning after sex. Yes boys, girls fart! Most of us pretty regularly and often accidentally. We just don't announce it and ask others to smell it. It's kind of like when there was a kid with really bad acne in grade school. Everyone knew it was there but chose to ignore it until it cleared up. Or like if you've ever paid for sex...I mean these are things people need to know.

So in hopes that this will start a trend, I am publishing my list of shit that guys should know about me before we start dating:
1. I have a pretty bad fear of committment and general emotional intimacy.
2. I have slept with enough people that sometimes I feel guilty about the number but I am still learning what I like and what I don't like. [Note: Compared to many people I know this number is not rediculously high--it's all pretty normal for someone who is 26, but 18 years of Catholic school has taught me to feel ashamed about this.]
3. Before I take a shower I usually stare at myself in the mirror searching for imperfections.
4. I hate the mole on my chin but the dermotologist won't remove it.
5. I am a messy person.
6. I watch way too much television and am addicted to celebrity gossip.
7. Somedays I wish I were famous.
8. I shower the night before work, not in the morning before, because I prefer to get the extra sleep when it's light out. I would sleep only in the day if I could.
9. I have had a gym membership fr two years. I've used it three months total.
10. I usually start out relationships by pretending I'm a non-smoker or "trying to quit." It's kind of a lie. Although a serious attempt at quitting is scheduled for after my Vegas trip with DM.
11. I don't like morning sex until I've brushed my teeth. Please do not attempt this.
12. I hate snuggling in bed in general.
14. I don't hate pornography.
15. I hate small talk and can seem socially awkward when I attempt this.
16. I like what most people my age consider to be "bad" music.
17. I sometimes curse and burp like a truck driver.
18. If I have a pimple, I will try to pop it (luckily this does not happen often).
19. I'm bossy.
20. I don't eat sea food. I think it's gross.
21. I sing badly and often. I usually combine this with my white girl dance moves.


I think that's a pretty good outline. I'm sure I've forgotten plenty of things. Now I suggest all you single folks out there take a long look at yourself and do the same. Let's make this a thing!

If you're not in debt...

makeitrightnola.org


Help out. Most of use have no idea what they could ever go through. Besides, it's an excuse to watch Brad on the web.

It's baaaaaaaaaaccckkkkkk

Just got this from a press contact:

December 28, 2007


OCEANIC AIRLINES ANNOUNCES ITS RETURN TO THE AIRWAYS
“TAKING YOU PLACES YOU NEVER IMAGINED”

Flights Begin December 31 To Nine Markets


Oceanic Airlines announced today their return to the airways. Beginning December 31, operations and flights to nine markets will resume, “Taking You Places You Never Imagined.” Destinations include:

Los Angeles, CA
Tustin, CA
Ames, IA
Miami, FL
New York, NY
Portland, OR
Knoxville, TN
Seoul, South Korea
Sydney, Australia

“We are very eager to resume flying and apologize for any inconvenience our temporary closure may have caused our loyal customers,” said Michael Orteig, President, Oceanic Airlines. “Oceanic Airlines is proud to be a top tier flight provider and looks forward to providing travelers with many more years of unparalleled service.”

About Oceanic Airlines
In business for over 25 years, Oceanic Airlines is a major airline carrier and offers the highest caliber of service for international and domestic flights. Destinations include Los Angeles, London, Sydney and South Korea.

###

Oceanic Airlines Contact:
Georgia Cavanagh REDACTED

This means LOST WILL BE BACK SOON! YAY!

I need...

a new ringtone to replace my Christmas ring....any ideas?

OH! BTW...

To all of those who care...the date went well. It was an actual grown up date. He's really cute. I didn't get bombed. The conversation was pleasant and hardly forced. We had a few cocktails and called it a night. He didn't attempt to maul me in the cab ride nor did he even presume that we would be hanging out really late. I think we'll probably go out again.


And, no, I didn't put out (which apparently, you aren't supposed to do...who knew?). We didn't even make out. And he still called...I guess he's this mystical creature I've heard of thought to be extinct...a how do you say..."Nice Guy?"

Merry Christmas!

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas! Today marked my baby niece's 1st birthday and she is proof that the older you get, the faster time goes. It feels like just a few weeks ago I was racing to the hospital to meet her. Now she stands on my knees, pulls my hair and sticks her fingers in my mouth.

Sister #2 is prego and to see her belly grow just makes me so thankful that she is bringing another little one into the family, this time a little nephew!

BFF's baby is an angel and the best present I got this year. She looks like her Mommy and she definitely has some lungs on her. She arrived happy and healthy and I can't wait until she's big enough so I'm not scared to hold her (I'm not scared of holding blood relatives when they are small...but I always think other people's babies heads will roll off).

So in the Christmas spirit, I send only good thoughts to everyone today, including the mean anonymous commenter, Roger Clemens and yes, even Julia Stiles.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow...

Yesterday was DM's birthday. Yesterday, DM got engaged. Yesterday was one of the best days of her life and she deserves it. Yesterday, I got a tetanus shot. It still effing hurts.

Today, Spanish and I went shopping for her husband, Homer. Today, Homer had his first day as a cop in my hometown. Today, I realized that because I live in New York City and take cabs, I have become a God-awful driver and almost crashed into the Cloisters on the Henry Hudson North.

Tomorrow, BFF is having a C-Section. She's pissed she can't deliver naturally. I am excited and nervous for her. Tomorrow, she becomes a mom. Tomorrow, I hope to visit her and her baby girl and then get drunk while decorating my Christmas tree.

I really need to get a more exciting life.

Apparently being a hot mess suits me...

because a guy I met this past drunken Friday has asked me to hang out...stay tuned for deets.

Also, all I remember about this guy is he's got a puffy LeTigre jacket and his name is [redacted]. And according to Q, he has nice eyes and we had a very involved conversation.

And he lives in Long Island.

EFF! DO NOT WANT!

But as Spanish, Mrs. Krabbypatty, DM and BFF tell me, I have to start giving people an actual chance before turning them down.

I drink too much.

Friday night was just one of those rediculous nights of drinking. Starts innocently enough. Q, LB and I were hanging out in LB's new apartment in the W. Village (it's sick!) and we were drinking wine and eating tacos. How things got to the level of drunk that they did I cannot uderstand. But like I said, it was one of those rediculous nights of boozing. The kind where you make BFFS with total strangers and frolic from bar to bar. The kind where you remember the first bar you go to but slowly forget the names of the rest of the establishments you end up finding along the course of the night. The kind where you end up in a Penthouse apartment in Times Square with three guys you don't know and have to make a quick exit. The kind where you can't get out of bed for an entire day. The kid where you think your hangover just may kill you. The kind that on Sunday, two days after the initial drink-fest, your friends call you because they realize that you may have made decisions that night that could have led to death.

We are all still alive. Somehow.

It's that time again...

It's December 1. It's officially CHRISTMASTIME!

Ringtone changed to 'NSYNC "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays" - Check
Purchase of this year's Hallmark singing snowman - Check
Christmas Playlist added back on to iPod - Check (and updated too!)
Most of my holiday shopping done - Check
Party outfits - Check
Moments of temporary depression because I have no boy to buy a present for - Checkish
Annoying Early New Years Invites - Check


Spanish and Homer popped in for a surprise NYC visit and we went and did touristy Christmas stuff. The tree. The windows at Saks.

Then the crowds and cold got annoying.

Which reminds me. Christmas = GINGERBBREAD LATTES AT DUNKIN DONUTS!

WOOOTTTTTTTTTTTTT!

Project Runway = Awkward City

Is it just me or did SJP seem like she was doing her best Tyra Banks (a la ANTM) on PR last week?

"And the next name that I picked..."

Stick to scripts.

As I hate hell all Julias

As I've made it clear in the past, I hate Julia Stiles. Like really hate. Hate which exponentially grew as I watched Mona Lisa Smile this weekend (on the contrary, my love for Ginnfer Goodwin has grown to the ful fledged girl-crush).

But my hate for Miss Stiles (PLEASE DON'T GET MARRIED AND BREED!) isn't the extent of my hate for all things Julia. Watching Stiles and another Julia, Julia Roberts, made me want to puke in my mouth. Really ladies, phoning it in much?

I had something written here about another Julia I have never met. It was mean and unnecessarily harsh. I've deleted it because I don't know her and since she doesn't know me I felt that it was in bad form to keep it up here. Not that she would ever read this since she probably has a life.

But Julia Stiles, that bitch will go down if it's the last thing I do.

A List and a List revisited

I found this list I scribbled in my planner on the way home from a post-grad trip to Baltimore. This was composed in January 2005. Carly and I were on the Greyhound bus back to the city after a very long weekend of boozing and too many cigs. To amuse ourselves me made lists of qualities that our potential husbands MUST have. Now, almost three years later, I found the list, written in the finest of Bic ballpoint, in a pocket of said planner. Here is said list verbatim:

Husbandry (what he MUST have)

1. Good sense of humor
2. Thoughtful but not cheesy (poets need not apply)
3. Good at compliments but not over the top
4. Likes to go out and do interesting things but knows how to stay in sometimes
5. Good with children
6.Wants to have children
7. Assertive
8. Has to fight for me (not in a violent way)
9. Hygenic
10. Be a fan of or appreciate the Mets
11. Good sense of self
12. Know when to back down
13. Must appreciate quiet moments
14. Lets me have me time
15. Be able to talk to and hang out with my friends
16. Challenges me and xpects me to work at relationship
17. Faithful
18. Have some sort of religion, preferrably a believer in Jesus
19. Good kisser & good at the studd
20. Likes to travel
21. Likes me for more than the outside
22. Not a worrier
23. Cann deal with my family
24. Be a best friend
25. Honest
26. can't be married to his work

26 THINGS! So young, so naive, so....effing awful. Someone hit old me wth a tree branch and knock in some reality. Here is that same list, with present day Jones's comments.

Husbandry (what he MUST have)--seriously...I hope my writing has gotten better than this.

1. Good sense of humor (a given)
2. Thoughtful but not cheesy (poets need not apply) --(this is lame, and where would I meet a poet?)
3. Good at compliments but not over the top (BRING THEM ON! What was I thinking?)
4. Likes to go out and do interesting things but knows how to stay in sometimes (Screw this idea all together--unless we are staying in to bang.)
5. Good with children (Sure, but I don't know anyone who isn't)
6.Wants to have children (Like it or not I having them--that's what affairs are for--kidding)
7. Assertive (No. No. No. I like my men like my cream. Whipped.)
8. Has to fight for me (not in a violent way) (WTF does this even mean?)
9. Hygenic (Dear 2005 me, THIS GOES WITHOUT SAYING!)
10. Be a fan of or appreciate the Mets (still very true. I refuse to fight about baseball.)
11. Good sense of self (I could care less.)
12. Know when to back down (This is still true. I can't stand a person who doesn't know when to stop. Just as in drinking: If I'm getting pissed, I've had enough.)
13. Must appreciate quiet moments (Blah. Blah. Blah.)
14. Lets me have me time (ok, even then I knew I was a beyotch when I'm smothered)
15. Be able to talk to and hang out with my friends (This is like #2 now. Homer and Mr. Krabbypatty told me I need their approval before bringing anyone into our "inner circle.")
16. Challenges me and xpects me to work at relationship (Old me makes me vomit sometimes.)
17. Faithful (Um, why is this #17 ?)
18. Have some sort of religion, preferrably a believer in Jesus (I don't care if you believe the talking tree in FAO Schwartz is your Lord and Savior.)
19. Good kisser & good at the stuff (Hey, 2005 Jones, it's called sex and you've had plenty to be able to start calling it that. Also, don't hook up with that Brazilian in London...)
20. Likes to travel (Important, yes.)
21. Likes me for more than the outside (Yowsa, so 2005 Jones thinks she's fly....oh, she's just getting over the stomach flu so she's way skinny. Bitch, that shit don't last.)
22. Not a worrier (Someone's gotta worry about your drinking...might as well be a dude!)
23. Can deal with my family (This will never happen, should be changed to: Someone who wants to be around me and has developed an anxious but steady acceptance of my family)
24. Be a best friend (So corny it made me vomit.)
25. Honest (um, WHY IS THIS #25?)
26. Can't be married to his work (Screw this. Absence makes the heart grow fonder...and leaves room for pool boy sex.)

Almost three years later the list has been diminished to the basics, someone clean, honest, faithful and lover of the Mets.

The only additions are as follows:

Must like booze.
Must not wake me up from sleep or midday naps.
Must be normal

The problem seems to lie within that last one. Oh well...

If you're wondering, this year I'm thankful I'm not the sad, lost soul who composed this rediculous list of high expectations and such. I am also thankful I am not that fugly, talentless bitch who calls herself Julia Stiles. Happy Turkey Week!

Great Moment in IM Conversations: 2 Girls, 1 Vomit

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Balls...or lack thereof

Today I checked my email to see I had two comments waiting for moderation. I thought to myself, "Self, you have a reader! Kudos to you! Someone likes to read your work!" Then I read what they said. Apparently an anonymous commenter has beef with dear ol' Jonesy. And since I don't take things lying down and this person obviously wants some attention, I will oblige and share your thoughts about me with the rest of the world.

Take this for example:

"Noone(sic) cares about you. Your(sic) a miserable brides maid(sic). Thats(sic) all you'll ever be. noone(sic) will ever love you "

"Wow," you may be thinking. That's way harsh. But five errors in three sentences? Who taught this person to write/read? Sloth from the Goonies? And I happen to be a pretty good bridesmaid. Ask my sisters or BFF or Spanish or Mrs. Krabbypatty. No misery there. Severe intoxication? Possibly. But not misery. And there are plenty of people who love me. So dear commenter, no need to worry your non-existent sac of cowardice.

Or what about this gem from a post about my dissapointment in the 2007 Mets season?

"and just like the men in your life, the mets woke up the following morring and said to them selfs,"wow, how did I fuck up that bad?"

Them selfs? Yowsa. I am dealing with a 5 year old with the mouth of a truck driver who's been in the road too long. And unless we've had all the sex, you have no reason to be criticizing. And if we have, you definitely wouldn't be saying that. Unless you're the guy that I brought home on St. Patrick's Day. The whole thumb tack thing...that was weird.

Also, these were posted at around 1 am on late Friday/early Saturday. Who is reading blogs then? Blogs are for reading at work when you're bored, not after you just completed a five hour internet porn binge. What, Bang Bus not hard core enough? Had to get your non-existent rocks off by picking on me?

Since this is such a personal attack I can only assume this is someone I know. And since I pretty much know who reads this, I have an idea of who it is. And I could care less. Just sad you can't say this to my face. The fact that you "don't care" is obviously not a fact. It's a lie. Because someone who didn't care wouldn't say such hurtful things. I have no idea why you're (see you put an apostrophe when it's two words...never mind, you're too dumb to understand) angry or what I did, but I can assure you that you have just proved every notion I ever had about you. There is much more I can say to you that would hurt far worse, but I'm better than you and you know that. You are a shell of a human being and I feel sorry for you.

If my intuition is failing me and this is a random stranger, I pity you. The fact that you put people down and hide behind anonymity is sad and small. Put down the keyboard and find some friends, maybe meet a girl. Maybe she'll touch your penis. I promise, it will help.

So that is my rebuttal to you, anonymous commenter. Take it as a Whitney Houston-esque, "KISS MY ASS!" Or better yet, in the wise words of one Janice Ian, "SUCK ON THAT! AYAYAYAYAYAYYYYYYYYYY!"

Have you ever?

Have you ever had a day drag on so long that you feel like you've actually aged sittig at your desk?


Today is one of those days for me. And it bothers me that I have to be here tomorrow since I've finished that work too. Looks like it's time for me to take on new projects!!!

I find myself working ahead which eventually leaves me with nothing to do or just waiting on what other people have to look at. And since I work in an industry that's all about face time, I have to sit here and work because I would really like to get promoted some time soon!

The weekend may be right around the corner but it feels like a month away...OY!

Never Play Scrabulous on Facebook with someone who works in porn.

She's so excited!

Has anyone ever watched Showgirls on VH1? The put these Jessica Rabbit cartoon-like bathing suits on Jesse Spano's boobs. It's the funniest thing I've seen all day.

Great Moments in IM Conversations: Couggery

DM: yes seems like the boys love the older ladies
Jones: its all about the young ones
DM: i dunno ive been hearing about a lot of older ladies as of late
DM: maybe u should start dating younger men.
Jones: thats what i meant
Jones: its all abou t the younger men
DM: ohhh yes
Jones: and i cant get a "date" with a guy our age let alone a younger one
Jones: i can only bed them, teach them my skills and share them with the world
DM: maybe this is an untapped resource
4:20 PM
Jones: um i've tapped it
Jones: a lot
DM: skank
Jones: i love to coug
DM: haha wurd
im a cou
g
by 4 months
Jones: doesnt count when its that little
Jones: i say 2 years or more
DM: shh
DM: yea
DM: I’ve couged
Jones: it's fun
DM: couggged
DM: how would u spell that
Jones: couged
Jones: maybe two g's?
DM: cougged
DM: yea
Jones: that looks right
Jones: we totally just made it a verb
DM: nice
Jones: speaking of cougging
Jones: i need a piece
Jones: i think ill call the intern
DM: yes that would worlk
Jones: maybe he'll booze me up
Jones: i feel like he's getting over me though
he may have met the most severe of the cougars
Jones:..accouting/finance cougar
DM: no
DM: nonono
DM:HR cougars
DM: grrrrrrrrrrr
DM:or is it meow
Jones: well they are legendary
4:25 PM
DM: oh yea
Jones: I think it's a roar
DM: like a lion
Jones: lioness
DM: ahh touche

I'm Twenty Six.

It's been officially twenty-four hours since my birthday. I am now twenty-six. For the first time I can ever remember, I actually feel like I've gotten older. This might sound weird. Let me explain. I don't feel old (except during my hangovers) and I don't look old (except during my hangovers) but I feel older. Older, wiser and maybe a little more mature. Still a kid at heart but old enough to know better. Head still in the clouds but feet planted firmly on the floor. I can say it now. I am twenty-mothereffing-six.

Some of you who read this will know why this past birthday became, er, somewhat difficult for me. I won't dwell on the details because I already attempted processing my feelings on Monday and that ended up giving me ridiculously puffy eyes for a day and a phone call to Domino's pizza on 40th street. In the end, I gave myself a day to work through, well, I guess what I'll call an "episode."

At the end of it all, I've realized I've learned so much over the past year. I've found myself wondering lately, in a world of weddings, babies and people buying property, that it can feel like I've jut been standing still for the past three years. But I'm on my own unpaved road here, and more so than I thought, 25 brought me many a life lesson. Here are some I thought I'd share with my usual vague details.

1. Like Dr. Phil says, "It's ok." For the first time in like, years, I felt myself falling for someone. This time I didn't walk away. In the end, it wasn't right (see #2) but I am proud of myself for letting go and actually feeling something again.

2. People can disappoint you no matter how much you believe in them. You can't will someone to change. In the case of this person I really hope they do someday. I won't be there waiting because I think they have cooties now, but I saw a glimpse of potential of a great person that I could have really given my all for. But you know, cooties is a deal breaker.

3. One cannot fathom the miracle of life until someone you know has a baby. Like literally the baby was inside and the next day was chilling in the hospital. It still amazes me.

4. I've lowered my expectations of people. People will always let you down. If you lower your expectations, it takes some of the sting of disappointment away.

5. Growing up is scary. I hate fear. That is the root of all of my anxiety. My fear of fear.

6. I can't control everything in my life. Hence my necessity for TOTAL control of the things I can actually manage.

7. Marriage isn't a race with winners or losers. (Do you hear that Heidi and Spencer?) And even assholes get married all the time. Think about it: If marriage was a game Pam Anderson, Liz Taylor and J.Lo would be winning.

8. The past is like a ghost that will keep haunting you until you make your peace with it.

9. Things change, people evolve (ok totally stolen from Dawson's Creek but Joey Potter was soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo right).

10. Just because you think someone is the right person for you, it doesn't mean they are.

11. I am who I am and there are a lot of people who like me this way. Those who don't can suck it.

12. Kelly Clarkson follows me around and writes songs inspired by my life (ok, just a theory, but I'm putting it out there).

13. You can't change the past. It's ok to let some of your dreams die. Life won't turn out the way you always imagined it. All you can do is move on and find your own way. Even if that motion is at the pace of a turtle. Then again, the tortoise came out on top in the end.

Sorry this was so boring and self-serving but it's been that kind of week.

Great Moments in IM Conversations: Jones DMC

Me: my point is, you have what so many of us want, so really, you should be confidant in yourself
Me: wow, that was like rev run deep
DM: u should send out daily texts

No more basebal anxiety this year...

I've found a direct corrolation between the teams I root for and the men I choose to involve myself with. In the end, I never end up satisfied. They always come up a little short in the end. But at least most of the Mets still have their hair. Go figure...until April.

Other than that, no comment. I'm sort of devastated but I lived through the '90s. I've been let down before.

And another one bites the dust...

Congratulations to The Krabbypattys! They were officially married this weekend in a beautiful ceremony which was followed by what may be considered the dance party of the century. I officially claim myself as the winner of the Benetar award for best '80s dancing of the night. They are off in Greece now on their honeymoon and I can't wait for them to get back so we can recap the awesomeness of their festivities.

Some highlights:

1. The pastor saying the words "sexual" and "erotic" during a prayer. Yes, I managed to hold in all laughter.

2. Some of us may have encouraged the flower girl to do the Little Miss Sunshine Dance.

3. Chest bumping with Homer.

4. Spanish's adorable MOH speech (seriously, props for not crying until the end).

5. There were incidents with bobby pins. Lots of them.

6. Walking into a pole when laughing about said bobby pins. I also win the clutsy bridesmaid award.

7. Cocktails...lots of them. I love open bar.

As of Sunday, I am no longer on bridesmaid duty, at least for now. What the hell am I going to do/write about/occupy myself with? Well, considering the fall TV shows are just starting I will have that. But I assume I will also have more free time to make a drunk tard of myself so 'm sure I'll have more good stories to come. Did I mention my bday is jus a few short weeks away??? Party on, Krabbypattys.

Sweet Tooth

Where are these little bitches when you need them? I want some thin mints.

Also, do Jenny Lewis and Carla Gugino cringe when they see this?

Great Moments in IM Conversations: My Phases

Me: hes not that big
Me: but seriously I'm apparently going through a chubby bald phase
well not me
DM: oh jonesy
Me: but the guys i crush on
Me: are chubby and baldo
Me: but hairy everywhere else
DM: well that does sound familiar
Me: um you think?
DM: hahahahhahaa
Me: but at least it's better than my skinny mexican phase
Me: or extremely tall african american phase
Me: or pug nosed russian phased
DM: stop im gonna pee
Me: or crooked weiner Asian phase
DM: STOP
Me: hahaha
Me: fuck i need ass

My new job...

makes me tired and cranky....but...Guess who scored tix to Kelly Clarkson for her bday! MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEe!


I suck, more to come in the future. Hopefully something good will happen to me this week.

ANGER ALERT!

I HATE YOU JULIA STILES! YOU ARE PLAIN LOOKING AND A TERRIBLE ACTRESS! IT'S LIKE YOU WOKE UP ONE DAY AND SAID, "I THINK I'LL BE IN MOVIES." ARGH! YOU ARE THE WORST EVER. YOU ARE THE WORST, REALLY, THE WORST.

Hamptons - 2, Jones - 0

I am still recovering from this weekend. Thanks to DM and co. I was more drunk than I have been in quite sometimes. My hangover from Saturday is just now going away. Why did I make this second cameo out East this weekend? Two words: Beer. Olympics.

Or as the folks who made the sign like to say: Beer Olimpics.

Special Olimpics indeed.

And while I didn't really partake in too much of the days events besides the occasional round of flip cup and a the world's greatest beer soaked dance party, there were some memorable moments...that were told to me on Sunday. For example, DM's boyfriend wore a ref's jersey (in which he bore a starling resemblance to the late, great lead singer of Queen) and painted on what could be called a Hitler mustache. He is now known as Adolf Mercury. Amazing.

There were tricycles. And beer. And pinatas. Do the math. That's right, it equals awesome.

Slip 'N Slides and nudity and a moose hat all got involved somehow. This is where it gets blurry and I think I took a nap wearing nothing but a bikini. I felt that free. So free that when I did get dressed, I had my bra hanging out, wait how does Lionel say, oh yea, all night long.

Then my liver said FUCK YOU! and that's where it ends. I got nothing. So if you saw a girl running around The Drift on Saturday with her boobs hanging out like a drunk disaster, that was moi, in all of my shitfaced glory.

Until next summer, Hamptons, just you wait. I will win one of these days. I swear it.

RIP: Spanish's Gallbladder

She's alive. Uncomfortable but alive. On Saturday I brought Homer lunch because he had been taking such good care of her. Then he left to get some air and run some errands, and I stayed with a percocet-glazed Spanish until her mom and grandma came to do what else...speak in Spanish to her.

I also babysat the niecey this weekend and ate dinner with my 70 year old neighbors. When I realized that I was living the life of an aged person I put the call in to DM & Co. to be rescued. Thanks guys, I was a minute away from dentures, an early bird special, and listening to Wilford Brimley's 'betus speeches.

At long last...

I started my new job last week.

I am either going to rock at this or go down in flames...please pray it's the former.

So for now, no blogging from work. But I will say it's weird to not be working for one particular person. I've grown so accustomed to being someone's assistant that I'm not sure how I will fare for myself out here in the real world, where I actually have deadlines and have to manage my time.

On a funny note, on my last day at the old gig, my boss high-fived me goodbye. No handshake, no awkward hug...he gave me a high five and said "Good job!"

He also insulted me like 5 time in a toast he made at my farewell luncheon. Oh well...on to bigger and better things!

If I Could: A Baseball Wife

In honor of Tommy Glavine's 300th win (WOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) I have decided to compose a post about what has been a dream of mine for a long time. Becoming a baseball wife. Did you n otice how many time's during the Milwaukee game that they panned on Glavine's cute wife and cute kids (not so cute when she realized the win wouldn't be his and that the Mets would eventually blow the game anyway...God when they suck, they suck). I would say she was on screen at least 14 times. Minimum.

So If I could be a baseball wife I would obviously do so by marrying a Met. But you are wondering...which Met would you choose Jonesy???? One would initially think I would go for one David Wright...BUT...I would have to pass on his hot ass (don't fret, more on this later). Instead, I would use my time machine and marry Keith Hernandez. First off, He had a sexy 'stache and a mullet, a combination I couldn't resist. And he was a solid Met. Also, In marrying Keith, I could get to meet the cast of Seinfeld and talk to Julia Louis-Dryfuss about her hair and prevent the Benes' from even taking over NYC. (WHY IS THE HAIRDO STILL POPULAR?!!!)

Eventually, I wouldn't love Keith anymore. There would be fights and perhaps an angry affair with Cowbell Man and he would cry and I would leave. And go straight to Mike Piazza's house. This way, all of his gaay rumours would be nipped in bud since, c'mon, Piazza can't be gay, he stole Keith's wife from him and she's smokin' hot! And I would continue to sit on my seats at Shea and stare at my boy's hot heiny. And I would still have a man with a rocking mullet and 'stache! WOOT! Oh, and you know I will dress a little trashy, like half-Anna Benson, half-First-Lady. It will be so hot!

While in the stands at Shea, I would live off the Kahn's hotdogs (it's the 90's remember-pre-Nathan's) and Carvel in plastic hats. I would attend EVERY single game, except for one week when I have my baby, Michael Jr. Who, on his birthday will be asked to throw out he 1st pitch to his Daddy. Cute right???? Also, I would beat ALyssa Milano to the punch and design my own line of lady sportswear to wear to games so most of the women don't end up wearing pink Mets crap (stupid and nonsensical unless are a baby girl) or looking like the antithesis of femininity.

At this time I would also have a brief fling with Turk Wendell. If only to get him to let me put that necklace of teeth on while we were doing it so it felt like caveman sex.

Flash forward to the end of 2005 where we get divorced as he files for free agency. And I file for divorce. By now, I need a break from the married life but I still need to inspire my boys (and get free tickets...) so I take a new route. I become Susan Sarandon in bull Durham and make every player want me, including LoDuca, who we know, only likes 18 year-old girls. I access to the locker room am required to attend all away games. After all, I have my little time machine so I am as hot as I was in the 1980s.

Finally, after a long career as a baseball wife/hussy, I decide to settle down when Mr. David Wright proposes. We get married at home plate and then, wearing number 69 (which they eventually retire for me for undisclosed reasons), I throw out the first pitch to fireworks and free hotdogs for all.

That night, The Mets beat the Yankess 100-0, and A-Rod and Jeter have gay sex on the pitchers mound for all to see.

Fin.

"Say Hello To Your Friends..."

Inspired by dmbmeg I have decided to fill you all in on a conversation that Carly, a friend who I am now going to call Rockstar (because she parties and looks like one), and myself had last Friday in Brooklyn.

But let me preface this with a realization I had but three weeks ago, when watching The Babysitters Club movie (Rachel Leigh Cook as Mary Anne! Alex Mac as Dawn! ) on Showtime on Demand. The movie was circa 1995 and nothing like the short-lived TV series that I remember. It was all about the club forming their own summer camp for the kids of Stonybrook. Then it hit me...wow, that Kristy was a little lesbian stereotype. Softball! Hates dresses! Wants to hang with her girlfriends all the time!!! Nothing wrong with this mind you, but it made me understand why I never related to her in the books.

So I decided to share this theory with Carly and Rockstar (both which, I think were a little puzzled that I was watching this film at the age of 25) and it got us going on the books we read as kids. Rockstar's favorite BSCer is Claudia because she's artsy. Carly liked Stacy. I was a big Mary Anne fan, because she got to date Logan, the piece of ass. We remembered how the Stacy's diabetus was like the BIGGEST deal ever!!!!! OMG! SHE NEEDS INSULIN! SCANDAL! And how Alan became Kristy's beard.

Then we remembered our good friends in Sweet Valley, Elizabeth and Jessica, that bitch Lila and a bunch of other people. Elizabeth was the shy one, Jessica was sort of a ho. And now a personal confession:

One of the reasons I have never and will never do cocaine is because of a Sweet valley High novel (can we call them novels?). Let me set the scene. The twins are at a party, it's the '80s, it's all preppy people wearing pastel. A girl named Regina Morrow has fallen in with the wrong crowd...she does some lines...and her effing HEART EXPLODES. She had a heart murmur and did coke and died. Lesson learned, you don't need to tell me twice. Way to help out today's youth Francine Pascal.

Rockstar and Carly sort of laughed when I told them this but there are MANY, including my sister who were scared of drugs because of this book...so reading IS fundamental.

Then we started talking about how we eventually moved on from serials like the BSC and SVH (and for me, Nancy Drew 7 Encyclopedia Brown...I read...a lot.) onto those creepy scary books written by RL Stine and Christopher Pike. Did anyone ever read The Midnight Club...about the kids in hospice who tell stories and then two have sex? Or Remember Me when the girl comes back from the dead as a ghost? Biz. arre.

But it all makes sense to me now. I read enormous amounts as a kid because a lot of these books were never a challenge to me like say, Trainspotting or The Satanic Verses. They were entertaining and easy (like the HP books) and I obviously took a lot of life lessons from them. And no wonder many people (not me) stop reading as they get older. Reading becomes more challenging for some...It took me over a month to finish Salman Rushdie's book...and I didn't even like it!

There really wasn't an end to our conversation because I believe Drug Teeth interrupted it. But ever since that evening I have had the Babysitter's Club theme in my head:

Say hello to your friends (Babysitter's Club)
Say hello to the people who care
Nothing's better than friends (Babysitter's Club)
Cuz you know that your friends are always there....

Profound. I know.

It's like the summer of 2000 all over again...

Ok besides my excitement for Mission" Man Band on VH1 where they take former boy banders and stick them together to record a song, I just found out thatt Backstreet's Back...Alright! And they've released this.

Before I say anymore I am including this disclaimer: I love pop music. It makes me happy and it's fun to dance to. I have never claimed that it is anything but fun music. Especially when wasted. So all the hiptards that hate anything pop, go cut yourself again you emo freak.

All summer I've bee saying I want a boy band song and revisiting some of my faves. So I've been listening to "Pop", "The Call" (one of the most fun to sing) and some of the forgotten, like O-Town's "We Fit Together." In a cab the other night I heard LFO's craptastic song about Abercrombie and Fitch (literally, it's a pretty awful song, but it makes me want to break out some serious sick moves).

In an effort to support this boy band resurgence (even Diddy's on board with Making the Band 4--or as I call it New Edition 2) I have decided to live the last month of Summer 2007 like Summer 2000. Mind you, in Summer 2000 I was 18. And constantly drunk. The good 'ol days if you will.

So if you see a drunk girl doing the "Bye Bye Bye" dance down the street, it's probably a good bet its me.

SHOUT OUT!

Here is a shout out to an amazing post. Enjoy!

Big Ups to BK

Yowsa. That's all I can say about my Friday night Brooklyn adventure. It started out all so innocent. I was to meet Carly for drinks in Bay Ridge and see her 'hood (although I've been to bay Ridge on at least 3 occasions before) and apartment. I hopped on the N train at 6. The mother effing train was local. So I switched to the R and half-napped all the way to the last stop and went to her apartment. It. is. huge. Honestly, if it hadn't taken me over an hour to get there (and the following events n ever happened) I would consider moving there. She has a huge bedroom, tons of closet space, a bathroom bigger than the one at my mom's house and a ginormous living room. It's just amazing, minus the fake plants bolted to the furniture in the building's lobby.

Another one of our friend's met us and we went to grab a bite before we began what eventually turned into the great Bay Ridge drink off of 2007. I inhaled some nachos and a mini-pizza and then we went off to some bars. The evening started off pretty normal. The three of us, standing around, drinking. We ended up at a bar called The Salty Dog which is pretty funny considering there was a mix of middle aged firemen and women in walkers. We parked ourselves next to the restored model of a fire trucks and caught up on gossip, etc. The crowd wasn't exactly what we are used to (although, drinking around the elderly is more amusing than you would think) so we headed over to another place called The Pour House. I've been to this bar before and it's ok and I remember why...ladies, if you are ever suffering from any sort of low self-esteem go to this place. Odds are, you will be better looking than most of the other women. If you aren't well, sorry, you may want to look into hanging out at The Salty Dog with the elderly.

So we started buying rounds and definite buzz started creeping over us. Expletives became more prominent in conversation. I was drinking Sam's Summer like water. A few locals started to trickle in and finally the bar got a pretty good crowd. A DJ came in a Bon Jovi started blasting. I was fully enjoying myself when some weirdo with Drug Teeth (meaning the bottom row sort of looks like Corey Haim's, you know, because of the crack) and starts chatting at me, definitely not with me. Finally he gets to the point and drops his pickup line on me. Now, I've heard some nutty stuff. I've been told things like "I just want to marry you, knock you up, and divorce you," and "Your ass is as soft as two pillows," and the ever-present "PSSSSSSTTTTTTTTT." Drug Teeth literally threw me for a loop.

Here is how it went down:

Drug Teeth: "You look like a squirrel."

Me: "What?"

DT: "Like a smart squirrel."

Me: "Huh?"

DT: "You know... squirrels are cute."

Carly: "I think of squirrels as little rodents with diseases and stuff."

Me: "What?"

DT: "No, I mean it in a good way."

Carly: "Well, that's not a nice thing to say." To bartender: "He just called her a squirrel."

Bartender: "What?"

Me: "Yes. A squirrel." To the man: "I don't think i look like a squirrel and I'm really just here to hang with my girls...so......"

DT: Keeps talking

Me: "I'm really just here to hang with my friends and you called me a squirrel..."

Bartender pours free shots.

DT: Still talking.

I start thinking and decide I'm going to channel my brother-in-law who calls people "guy" whenever he gets annoyed. I slowly turn around and look at this man, my annoyance written all over my face and my hands ready to bust out all of the hand gesture I can think of.

Me: "Guy..." as Slice my hand down in the air in a move I can only describe as a karate chop.

DT: "Please do not say anything bad..." walks away, frightened, never to return.

Enter two British dudes, more shots, me blabbing about Robbie Williams to one of the British dudes, until I realized he smelled like someone who sleeps in his own ash tray and probably hasn't showered in a day or two.

Next thing I know I'm begging the DJ for some Beastie Boys and he says OK come look...in the DJ booth. Which was up really high. I stumble into it and start flipping through his books while he puts his hands on my hips is order to steer me to face the equipment--which I know think was a total pickup move--and he tells me to push a button to play the song I had requested. I guess the owner spotted me and made me get down but not before I played "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn." Oh yes, like a loser fan wearing a t-shirt with the name of the band they are going to see (I was Gutter), I played "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn," late at night, in a bar, in Brooklyn and started fist pumping. No one seemed to care though. I the blink of an eye it was 4 am and i had promised Future Mrs. Krabbypatty I would go with her and Spanish, to her 1st bridal dress fitting. (PS She looked amazing.)

I jumped in a cab with the other girl we were with ( she drinks like a rock star btw!) and we came back to NYC. The whole time she was begging him to stop for pizza and then he took us to the wrong neighborhood. It was nutso. By the time I got to my place I was exhausted and passed out. I made it to Future Mrs. Krabbypatty's fitting and then did what I do best, went home to Westchester to give my liver a break (although I did go out the next night...but only for a minute since I started to fall asleep!).

All in all, BK was a riot...even if the people there think I look like a rodent with diseases.

An Open Letter to Matt Damon...

Dearest Matthew:

First, I have to let you know, I love you. If I was offered a job as your personal ass pincher for the rest of my life I would glady accept. You're a hottie. Show me your peen.

Second, I have to say that I was a little hurt when your driver tried to run me over yesterday as you were leaving David Letterman. I was just trying to get home from work, not attack your car. Sure, I saw the tons of people waving at your vehicle, but I wa snot one of them because honestly, I couldn't even see you. Was it then necessary, for your black GMC truck to come barreling across 8th Avenue straight at me? I really don't think so. Was that effer Affleck driving (I assume since he has no career he is now your "Turtle" a la Entourage.)

I could have thrown myself in front of the car and sued but no, I chose to take a step back and avoid and type of mangling that your driver could provide. Since, out of the kindness of my heart, I saved you money and public embarassment, I have one request.

I would like you to sleepover. Just one night. And no sex (although I may ask you to show me the peen as noted above) because you are married and a father and I am not going the Angelina route. All my friends will come over and we'll all get wasted and maybe some people will start hooking up and me and you will be like, "Hey, isn't that weird, I never thought those two would go together." And then they will start dating and we'll still be like "Remember when they hooked up the night I had that sleepover?" And then they'll get engaged and it will be all nice and happy and then married and you'll obvs be invited because by that point you're in the click and everybody's boy. And we'll all be like "Really, who knew?" and then maybe you'll be going through a tough time in your marriage and your daughter will have just started school and Affleck's in rehab again and we'll get all deep in conversation and then make out and we won't start a whirlwind romance because you're married and you'll win your second Oscar because I inspired you and then get divorced and we'll celebrate by announcing our new relationship on Oprah and then have 3 babies and that couple who hooked up at that party will get divorced and we'll be like, "Woah! We didn't see that coming, but remember when they hooked up at that sleepover? That was weird."

Sincerely yours in all of your Bourneness,

M. Jones

And I sobbed...

A confession: I L-O-V-E the show So You Think You Can Dance! I became addicted to it last year. Like ADDICTED. I would religiously watch it every week and then vote. I even went to go to see the tour, amongst a bajillion tweens. Thank God my sister and a good friend of mine who we'll call, Denim (since she owns a store that sells jeans and really cool clothes), also love the show because I would have no one to discuss it with.

This year more people have caught SYTYCD fever and thank God, because between the Harry Potter obsession and the dancing, I've been looking like a big loser who has nothing better to do (sadly, sort of true :()

I think this season has been a little lackluster cosindering last year's group blew my mind...until last night. mia Michaels taught Lacey and Neil a routine that literally moved me to tears. I found the clip on YouTube to share with you, but what you don't see is them showing the backstory of the piece. It's a reunion between a father and daughter in heaven, and I truly haven't seen anything like this before.

I know not everyone with get it (I was watching it live wih London and her response was, "That's it?") but those who understand contemporary dance will agree, this is definitley something unique.

OR, I am probably just really a loser who has nothing better to do than write abou crap she sees on TV.

I forgot to mention...

I GOT A NEW JOB!!!

Gone are the days where my boss is screaming after me like I'm Lloyd from Entourage.

Say farewell to the days of my boss's son asking me if I'm 35, or have a husband, or have babies.

Hasta la vista to the days where my boss asks if I've had a Valentine in the past few years.

Peace out to the annoying lady who doesn't know how to use Excel or make labels in Word even though we have computer training classes.

Siyanara to the lady who once told me I have a muffin top (I didn't).

Aloha to the guy who reeks of Drakkar Noir cologne like it's 1995.

Buh Bye to the lady who always farts really bad when I'm in the bathroom.

Godspeed to the lady who I have to avoid taking an elevator with, as she is the worst close talker in the history of all time (One day I could taste her breakfast from her breath).

FInally, Adios to the days of blogging at work, because from what I can tell, I will be the busiest of bees in my new position. But I won't be too far!


PS: A special shout out to Spanish's gall bladder, which will be leaving us on August 10th. I'll be sure to pour out some bile for you. I'll be missing you.

Corey Haim: Better on Drugs?

Corey Haim was way more entertaining when he took pills.

I DVR'd the Two Coreys! I AM VERY EXCITEd!

He's 18. It's allowed.

He's got the magic stick, I know if I read it once, I'm readin' it twice. Finished the book, saw the movie. And while my true love will always be Ron Weasley, kudos to Daniel Radcliffe, for growing up so well and making me want to cougar. All that teen angst in that jawline..magical indeed.

Oh yea, I'm a dork.

I forgot to mention...

Um, we also somehow managed to break into a van taxi cab and get yelled at by a fat bouncer, and then the police. Whoops. I love the Hamptons.

2nd Annual: I got rescued at The Drift and all I got were some spider bites

Ok, I know you've been waiting for this one and I apologize for the delay. Here we go:

On Friday DM and I met up to get manicures before the fabulous druken Hamptons trip began. She dragged me to this upstairs place (places upstairs always bug me out for some reason) in midtown where I proceded to get the worlds fastest mani. Literally done in 10 minutes (its still on btw). Then we took the world's longest taxi ride to hell, I mean Penn Station. We scored seats on the to Jamaica thinking "Awesome, it shouldn't be too bad to get a seat when we switch to the double decker!" WRONGO! When the train pulled up in Jamaica, it was packed. Like 5 seats were open. People were sitting on steps, standing in the aisle, it was dreadful. It reminded us both of those long train rides down the NE corridor Amtrak line in college. Les. Mis.

We finally found spots where we could sit, stand, whatever. You know those cubby hole areas where the conductor stands and pushes buttons to move the train? That's where we parked it. Onfortch, both of us where in jersey dresses, so at times we had to be etra careful that the entire bar car couldn't see our underthings. Who are we kidding, they totally did.

Drinking ensued. I got wasted and made out with a guy who like the bizarro identical twin of a guy I hooked up with a bunch of times in college. But then he started to annoy me. Then i realized that I was making out with him for only 2 reasons: 1. His wicked dance moves. 2. He told me i had a rockin' bod with his thick Boston accent (I must admit, the boobies were looking fabulous).

So it's finally time to leave and Bizarro can't find his cousin or anyone who he is supposed to be staying with. And he doesn't have a phone. I wanted to get rid of him so I wouldn't accidentally have sex, but DM shouts "JONES, GET IN THIS CAB! BRING YOUR BOYFRIEND" Crap. Did I mention that he kept calling me he wrong name? He would be like "Junes...I mean Jones." Then I would give him a mean look and walk away and then somehow the vodka would make me kiss him again. Damn you clear drinks!

So finally I get back to DM's house and then it gets blurry. I know I changed into my PJ's in the bathroom and wouldn't touch Bizarro when he got in bed with me...until he full on spooned me...ick, I hate sleep touching.

Next morning he sort of disappears which makes happy but then it's time to go to the beach Luckily I'm hungover enough to not be ashmed in my bathing suit. To this day I have never found a better hangover cure than this:

1. Bottle of Water
2. Turkey Sandwich
3. Ocean
4. Combos

Seriously, I was fresh as a daisy in no time! Queue more drinking and the Drift. Some funny moments:

1. Walking into a girl vomiting on someone's car, the owner of which hit the panic button on her.
2. Running full force into a chest bump only to be flung five feet backwards
3. Watching a group of girls dance to that same guy's car alarm...he would click it off and on...everytime it came on they would dance and when it when off they would stop...it gave no meaning to the term "Dance, Monkey Dance!"
4. Major dance party with some of the most fun people I know


Honestly, it goes down again as a fabulous weekend, one that it has taken my liver 5 days to recover from. Kudos to DM and to all....except for the spider bites...seriously, I have like 3 of them and they itch.

Guess Who's Coming to Drinking?

Oh yes kiddies, it's that time of year again. Jonesy v. the Hamptons. Place your bets now. Here are some things to loook forward to...

This weekend is intended to be a shitshow of mass proportions. Similar to that of this girl's Awesomefest series. Some of you know about last year's magnificent trip out east. This year, I have been promised an even broader cast of characters includding Penny and pretty much everyone listed in her cast of characters. I have been told there will be drinking in mass quantities, including my introduction to the Stoli-bomb. Let's all pray I don't embarass myself while trying to pole-dance on a giant pink coulumn inside the Drift (which is actually Guide-hotspot, my hell, Neptunes during the day).

I will be venturing on the beach for the first time since last August, my pale skin begging for sun exposure. Kids, I'm so white, I glow. My sister compared my leg to my neice's (FYI-she has never seen direct sun) and the color was pretty much the same.

I am going happily, as this week has been very tough work-wise. Not only did my boss come back from his week off in order to give me tons of stuff to do, but I am also praying for a promotion to a position that opened up last week. I also have something else in the works (which will come to a close this Friday, just in time for my weekend escape) that will hopefully work out very soon!

So again, place your bets now kids, who will triumph? Will I take on the Hamtpons in pro-form without any embarassing moments that involve vomit/pee or spilling liquid of any kind? Will I avoid taking photos that make me look like I have 8 chins and 6 months prego? Or will The Hamptons beat my ass into submission, making me cry "UNCLE!" while I dance violently to quality tunes at 4 am?

I'll give you a hint. The Hamptons always wins.

I would categorize this as a flame.

WHY DO THEY MAKE PEOPLE WORK ON THE 5TH OF JULY IT ONLY RUINS THEIR 4TH BECAUSE THEY CAN'T REALLY DO ANYTHING THAT'S TOO FUN AND NOBODY'S HERE SO WHY AM I? THIS IS SO STUPID I HATE IT AND I JUST WANT TO GO HOME. AND WHY AM I NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE OFF BECAUSE MY BOSS TOOK THE WHOLE WEEK OFF AND HE NEEDS ME HERE TO DO NOTHING BUT JUST IN CASE BUT EVERYONE IS ON vACATION AND I AM SITTING HERE AND THE PHONE IS NOT RINGING THIS IS SO STUPID.


I hate today.

If I Could: A Tacky Wedding

Occasionally I wonder what would happen if I had unlimited funds and a whole lot of time. So here is a new type of post I'm calling "If I Could." Here are my musings on what kind of tacky wedding I would have, "If I could."

Date: 4th of July. Why? Free fireworks for all. But instead of having those little smiey faced ones I would have the folks at Macy's design special pyrotechnics that would launch firworks that would explode in the shapy of my face and beau, encircled by heart with an arrow going through it. God bless America and God bless us.

Ceremony Location: Shea Stadium. Why? Because in my little world where I have more money than Bill Gates, everyone will want to attend my nuptuals. I need stadium seating. But considering that this affair will come after 2009, I would have to buy Shea Stadium before it's torn town and transplant it to a patch of land. So, I will have to buy all the real estate on the Lower East Side/East Village, evict all the hiptards, level all the annoying builldings/hangouts and place Shea down there. Any hispter who does not vacate will just be seen as collatoral damage.

Reception: Central Park Why? Because I would need pretty much the entrie park for all the guests. It's a simple matter of capacity. All the important people will be allowed in the great lawn with me, while all the on-lookers will have to stay down in Sheep's Meadow. The people I really don't like will be sent to sit on the ball fields, and have to make due with a hotdog cart and ice cream man.

Bridal Party: The obvious suspects, my sisters, BFF, Spanish, Future Mrs. Krabby Patty, Jennifer Aniston, Kelly Clarkson, Wonder Woman.

The best man will be Michelle Williams. Because let's face it, Heath wouldn't want anyone else helping him out more than his ex-wife/baby momma.

The other best man (did I mention this was Big Love?) will be Kylie Minogue, who will be trying to hold Robbie Williams up, because we will have to kick that guy off the wagon to marry me.

Flower children: My neice will be head flower child which means she is the boss of all other flower children and they need to kiss her feet and give her money and presents. Other flower children: Suri Cruise (but Tom has to sit in the baseball team area for the reception, Katie can stay with me but only if I can call her katie and send her to de-programmer who will burn her with ciggie butts until she rejects Scientology), Zahara Jolie-Pitt (screw Shiloh), Maddox Jolie-Pitt (screw Pax), and The Olsen Twins.

I will not walk down the aisle. The entire New York Mets team will kneel on hand and knee (in their custom NYM tuxes) and I will walk on their backs.

Colors: "My culuhs are blush and bashful." And yes, Dolly Parton will be flown in to do my hair and Julia Roberts will be forced to have a diabetic seizure.

Theme: The theme is everyone look uglier than the bride. Thanks.

Black Tie: Not optional. It's demanded. But only skinny black ties are allowed. And even the women have to wear them.

Entertainment: Think of Live Aid + Live 8, ONLY BIGGER. Headliners will include a reunited 'NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, Spice Girls, S Club 7. Also Amy Winehouse, The Beastie Boys, Shakira (but she has to dance in a brown paper bag since no one is allowed to look better than me), U2, Madonna, Oprah, Larry King, Gallagher. Ellen Degeneres will be dancing in a cage above the stage, non-stop.

Gown Design: I will change every 30 minutes into a new gown. The designers will have to pay me to wear their dress at the ceremony. I have a feeling Bobby Trendy won't win. It will be easy to dress me because I will be thinner than Victoria Beckham. And she will be forced to eat the entire reception.

Food: I will leave that up to the house elves from Hogwarts.

Party Favors: Everyone will receive an 8x10 of me, autographed, of course.

Honeymoon: 1 week at each Hedonism resort in the world.

A girl can dream, can't she?

Correction: Sorry Keith!

Keith Hernandez is a spokesman for Just for Men hair dye, not the Hair Club for Men. I stand corrected and may I say Keith, your 'stache is as sexy as ever.

Coughie and Pedicure

This past Friday I took a much needed half day off from work. Sometimes I find these more productive than full days because 1. I stay sober the night before because I still have to go to work and 2. I'm not left to my own devices and sleeping half the day away.

As soon as I left work I decided it was time for two of my favorite things: Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee and pedicures. I got my medium French Vanille Iced Coffee with skim milk and two Equal and headed over the my fave nail salon for a quick yet MUCH MUCH needed pedi (flip-flops + NYC streets = black heels). As soon as I walked in I was a little miffed because I had to wait (all four pedi stations were full) . There's only one waiting bench to sit on. It fits about three people. Smack in the middle was a little girl, probably about three or four. I had no choice than to sit right next to her. I was sitting of all of 30 seconds when I heard the deepest, chestiest, throatiest cough. It was coming from the little crumbsnatcher (Fiture Mrs. Krabbypatty's word-excellent, no?) next to me. She didn't cover her mouth.

The cough was quickly followed by a sneeze. Then another and another. I got squirmy. In my head, I was thinking "EFF! I can't get sick. It's Friday, it's been a shit week and all I want to do is drink my face off." Then I felt it. The burning sensation that someone was looking at me. It was little ol' Coughie. I don't think that child blinks.

Immediatley I get to texting everyonw whow ould understand that this evil midget was not only infecting me with her child disease, but also staring at me like I had Dora the Explorer shaved into my head.

I couldn't reiterate enough how bad the kid was staring (Have I mentioned that staring is one of my pet peeves?) and also, bad parents who take their sick kids toa ccrowded nail place instead in keeping them in bed with some Triaminic. So I took a pic with my camera phone. It didn't come out to late so I switched to video. The kid is full on staring, she even looks away and comes back. And no, she didn't know I was filming her because I had the phone up to my ear and started saying "MmmHmm" like I was in a convo (yes, I know I'm nutto).

Since I couldn't load the video, here is the budget photo I took. All you need to see is the evil eyes.

I swear I like kids though. Just not this one.

Playa HAAAAAYYYYTAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Remeber that Biggie Song Playa Hata or whatever? I like that song.

Anywho, I've been busy with stuff (So You Think You Can Dance) lately and really lazy. But i have some ideas for some classic Jonesy posts.

This is redic. Apparently they feel the need to advertise head products for bald men in all me the ladies bathrooms at shea stadium. What about keith hernandez and the hair club for men?

This is what i have been staring at all week. Need drink now.

Oh well....

Let me pre-empt this whole story by saying it's summer and there is nothing on TV.

So I just finished watching the movie "Because I Said So" with Diane Keaton and Mandy Moore. People have been telling me I should watch it since it's like my family blah, blah blah (I could only wish to be as cute as Mandy Moore).

Lo and behold, out of the darkness. A full fledged undiscovered hottie. Yea, Tom Everett Scott's in the movie but he plays kind of a dick, but this guy, super cute...

Hotness right?

I got so psyched! New movie actor crush! As soon as the movie was over, I ran to my trusty laptop to IMDB his hot little ass.

This is how it went down in my head....

OH! His name is Gabriel!! I LOVE THAT NAME!!!! Ok, born in 1972, so he's 35, still in my age range...Wow, he's been acting since he was 8, that's a long time, he's gotta be doing well for himself....Born in the BRONX! YAY! He's a New York boy!!! Oh, Spouse, Jacinda Barett...that girl from the real world London, she's really pretty, I met her once, she asked me where the bathroom was when I worked at Kate's Paperie...Well, she was stunningly gorgeous so he has good taste! Still Crush worthy! Oh, and they are having a baby! Good for them.

"He is a huge New York Yankee fan."

Oh screw that.


Fin.

Why I Love NY1 Commercials: Part 2

You're welcome. This will now be stuck in your head for the next 20 years. I sing it at work. All the time. I would rather have the song "Glamorous" (we get it Fergie, you can spell) playing ona look from now until eternity instead of EVER hearing this again.

Why I Love NY1 Commercials:Part 1

This is one of my favorite commercials ever. 1. These weddings look like the tackiest events ever (go to the website where they discuss their Versailles-like oppulance). And wait for the 20 second mark.

2. "WE MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE!" Why is she screaming? And why does it come out of nowhere? And what's with her raising her arm like Ava Perone?

I love low-budget local news channels and those who sponser them.

I wonder if he ever...

Former mayor of New York, Ed Koch, enjoying Knocked Up, Friday night at Loew's in the East Village. He is very old looking.

Guess who just learned to

Guess who just learned to blog from her cell phone! This is going to be interesting!

Obligatory Fleet Week Post

Since the inception of this blog (2 years ago), I have made an effort to communicate to you, my loyal readers (all 5 of you), all of the fun-goings on in New York City (all of the things that involve me, booze, television and being poor).

Every year, I have been outspoken in my support of Fleet Week (AKA Hot Sailor Weekend). Well, I have officially changed my mind (I'm a flip-flopper). This year, I will not be spending Memorial Day Weekend in Manhattan (which is dead this weekend anyway) but rather, in an interesting twist, will be trekking (taking the Metro-North 30 minites) to my home town in Westchester for several celebrations (drunk-fests).

Why? You may ask, have I had such a change of heart (coal)? This year, I have noticed that while I am maturing (getting older) the sailors are seemingly less mature (seriously, they look 12 years old) and are not necessarily what I find attractive (FUGLY!).

So dear, readers (reader), there will be no posts about canooodling (Making out) with any of our US Naval Officers (unless somehow I eat a naval orange or randomly meet Phil Stacey) this weekend. In short, no delectable details from my Fleet Week celebration will be posted herewith (In short, I think I'm getting to old to hit on vulnerable 19-year-olds who are wearing white pants).

You may be saying, "Jonesy, you've explained what we (I) won't get. We (I) want to know what we WILL get." Dear friends (friend), you will most likely hear wonderful tales (foggy recollections) of a girl experiencing the verge of summer with some of her nearest (I'm only saying this because you are the ones who read this) and most dear friends and frolicking (eating and drinking) through the countryside (the yard at Spanish's parent's house).

So I bid you adieu for the long weekend (mini-vacay!) and in the words of that sage (hobag) Britney Spears, Godspeed (peace out mofos).

Rating the Finales Part 4: The Mind Blowers

Heroes - C- - What the hell? All that build up for something that was easily guessable? The writers and producers had the opportunity to create an all out Battle Royale with Sylar, having Peter make Nikki invisible and Parkman reading his mind and Hiro knocking is block off with that sword, giving a sense of finality to season 1 and a good segue into season 2 (Molly knows of an even worse baddie!). But no, poor Peter almost got his ass handed to him and Nathan had to bail him out once again. Ugh. A let down in the first degree.


Lost - A+++++++++++ - WHAT A SURPRISE! The show I have bitched about all year really came through!!! I had heard buzz that this was THE finale to watch but I never in a million years predicted the flash forward, Walt's cameo, Charlie kicking it (THEY PROMISED THEY WOULDN'T!), and Jack's future addictions. And may I mention that E. Lily looked really pretty in the future. I guess she got a good post-island scrubbing. Oh, and the "I love you." Yowsa! Of course they have opened a whole new can of worms in true Lost form, but, this time, the whole landscape of the show has changed. Oh, and that great Sawyer moment, "That's for taking the kid off the raft," was a great throw back to Season 1's finale (who can forget Walt's screams "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!) Well played, JJ Abrams. Well played, indeed.

Rating the Finales Part 3: Reality Redux

Dancing With the Farts - C - Joey didn't win.

American Idol - C+ - Only for the fact that Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood both performed. Would have been an F because Doodle didn't win. And WTF was that Sanjaya solo performance?

I will not dignify reality TV with a longer post.

Rating the Finales Part 2: The Dramedies

Ok kiddos, I've been watching more TV than humanly natural these days and here's what we got sicne I'm tired and cranky. Spoilers afoot, beware.

Ugly Betty - B+ - Twists, turns and braces, OH MY! Loved that Amanda is really Fay Summer's daughter. Loved that Charlie might be knocked up with Dr. Farkus's kid (which YAY! Does that mean Jesse Tyler Ferguson will make a return! BUT, really, the Prison Break scene with Angela I mean Claire Meade? I was waiting for Mona and Tony to come undo her chains, a little silly but hey, makes for agood cliff hanger. Mark as Flavia Fabia or whoevers assistant, AWESOME! "She makes me smoke." It doesn't get much more funny than that. Alexis/Daniel, I don't really care too much about them to bein with so if one goes...I don't really care. gWould have been an A- but, really, did they have to shoot Santos????? And reading all of the above just goes to show how fabulously redonkulous this show is...

Brothers & Sisters - B - SOL IS GAY!!!! WOW! I for one, did not see that coming at all. This episode was fine, Justin's back in Iraq, Kitty's engaged, Sarah's a mess, Tommy is sad, Kevin is still slutty (with a Sentor's minister brother no less). Seems like not much has changed in the Walker family since William died in the pool during the pilot. Oh wait, and Rebecca's a homewrecking whore like her mom...thank God Rob Lowe is there to look pretty.

And finally...the one people have been waiting for....(only filed as a dramedy since the other dramas I watch are more Sci-fi-ish)

Grey's Anatomy - F- - Never have I been less satisfied with a season finale. Every plot point was stupid and in all honesty, even since the George Izzie cheating thing started all of the Seattle Grace interns/residents/surgeons have been on my last nerve. They should have saved teh ferry crash for the finale. George failed? Really? Burke booked? What? McDreamy made some quietly passionate speech to Meredith? Ok, that's not new. Meredith seemed cold? Who cares? Addison is jumping ship at the right time because this finale proved, my beloved show is on its way down. McDreamy and Meredith breaking up sounds like one giant shark jump to me.

Ok kids, I've watched Heroes and Have VERY strong opinions, but stay tuned. After Wednesday, I will post Part 3: The Sci-Fi Favorites

Rating the Finales Part 1: The Comedies

Ok, so in an effort to make my blog a little more exciting, I will be rating some season finales for you folks so you DVR and TiVo Junkies can decide what to get excited to watch and what you can be thoroughly dissapointed with. But if you are one of those folks who like sto be surprised stop reading now.

How I Met Your Mother - Grade B+ - It's hard to give any TV show that isn't an hour long more than a B but HIMYM was fantastic. Kudos to Ted for finally seeing the light and sending Robin Sparkles to the curb. Lily getting drunk at her own wedding - awesome. And Barney closing it out with a little "Legend-wait for it...." And props to CBS for giving us a third season so we can hear the "Dary!" part of that.

The Office - A- - Jan's breakdown was fantastic. Jim and Pam have a date!!!! HUGE! Ryan getting the job at corporate, HILARIOUS! But what people, no kiss?????? A kiss would have made the minus, a plus.

Stay tuned for my updates on Grey's, Lost, Heroes and in a couple weeks, One Tree Hill. But don't expect any Idol tidbits from me. As much as I hate this season, the fact that Doolittle got the boot before Blake really grinds my gears.

This does no justice.

And these sick fucks sat in the front row.

Head back, HEAD BACK!

The field trip to Six Flags was awesome. I love roller coasters, I love the thrill of being forced into the air at God knows what speed. But the Kingda Ka? You've got to be effing kidding me.

Mind you I wasn't told until after that it's the world's tallest and fastest roller coaster. You can see this thing from anywhere in the park. The Scream Machine? Child's play.

KrabbyPatty, DM and Homer (Spanish's husband, named so after his favorite cartoon character) and I waited on line. For all of 10 minutes (apparently I picked the best day ever to go to Six Flags, there was no one there). Those were the longest 10 minutes of my life. All I could hear was screams and all I could see were tears in the eyes of some tween in front of me. I bit a huge chunk of my nail off.

It went down like this:

Homer: "Holy crap did you see that?"

Me: "I'm just not looking. I'm just going to get on."

Homer: "No, look! They shoot you out so fast!"

Me: "Just don't talk to me."

I could only envy Future Mrs. KP and Spanish as they were the only two with enough brains to remain safely on the ground. They would later report that they saw some dude boot all over the ground as he ran full spped away from the coaster for his life.

As the car ahead of us with the tween pulled up (which signaled it was our turn to get in) I stared at her. She looked like someone just took her puppy away while they were simultaneously murdering all of the members on 'NSYNC.

I got in the car, pulled the safety thing over my head and buckled myself in for dear life. When the teenagers who worked on the ride came to check my safety, I said a silent prayer. I mean seriously, have you seen how old the kids are who work at Six Flags? The kid who served me my burger at Johnny Rockets was 14, tops. I should send the NJ department of labor in there, the park would be shut down for days.

Anyway, I made it. I said I would do it and I did. It went this fast, clouds, parking lot, ground and it was over. Maybe the wind and fear for my life and intense neck and back pain (they tell you to keep your head back...I couldn't. The thing shoots you out at 128 mph) were what caused the tears at the end, but I did it, and yes, I deserve an effing big cookie.

You're eating hair!

I know, I know. I've been slacking on the posts but I've been unmotivated and busy watching all of tv build up to it's finale. So chuckle on this until I come back!

Please excuse me

I didn't re-read that last post until now. Please excuse all typos and blame them on the v. strong margaritas I consumed. Thank you.

I promise more to come soonish on the Six Flags trip and Jones v. Kingda Ka.

FIELD TRIP!

Tomorrow morning, Spansih and hubby, The future Mr and Mrs Krabbypatty, DM and I are heading to Six Flags Great Adventure Theme Park and Safari in nearby Vernon, NJ. Not really nearby, but everyne needs a field trip every so often.

The fact that DM and I are waking up pre 8 AM is huge and Spanish's husband continues to refer to the Kingda Ka roller coaster as the Kingda Kock...and yes, I'm riding it...he likes to laugh at that.

I'm sure hilarity and mishaps will ensue. Stay tuned kids...I had margaritas pre-roller coaster, this could be ugly.


P.S. Yes I'm the tard who scheduled this outing the day after Cinco Day Mayo/Derby/Huge Pay Per View Fight...I suck.

Spanish's Folly

I love my friend Spanish. But she's special when it comes to myspace.

Let me pre-empt this story with an explanation of one of Spanish's quirks. She just so happens to have the absolute WORST timing ever. She's the friend who calls me right after I fall asleep during a much needed nap. Or she just so happens to stop by right when I am taking my Friday afternoon pre-drinking nap. Or, right when they give out some nugget of knowledge on Lost, she'll call. She can't help it and it's not on purpose, she just has shitty timing with her communications. It's at the point, that when the phone rings while London and I are watching tv, she immediately asks, "Is that Spanish?" And starts laughing. A good 8 out of 10 times it is.

Back to her myspace retardation. Spanish has had a myspace profile for a while. For about a year she had no photo and 4 friends. Then it was a photo of bald Britney. Now, she finally sucked it up and actually made a profile. Luckily her brother-in-law helped her in these intial stages because I would have probably killed her. It started so innocently, with her asking me how to post picture in comments, etc. Then one day, she rejected a friend request. Turns out she knew the person and poor Spanish thought the girl would be mad at her. This conversation lasted a half hour. She's nice like that. I would have said, fuck it, if they want to be my friend enough they'll just request me again or I could not talk to them for abother 8 years, either way, I'm cool.

Last summer, Spanish, her husband and I went for ice cream. At Carvel. Which means, I'm getting a cherry bonnet. For those of you don't know, a cherry bonnet is vanilla soft serve on a waffle cone dipped in cherry sauce, which hardens over the ice cream.

Chocolate and cherry bonnets....delish.

IT'S AWESOME. Needless to say, I was made fun of, because really, who eats something called a cherry bonnet. Apparently the same people who eat a cake called Cookiepuss.

Meet Cookiepuss.

Earlier this week I went on a massive hunt for a Mister Softee truck during my lunch break. Knowing that they serve cherry bonnets, I was psyched. Then I got to the truck and found an even greater concoction. The Red Merlin. The Red Merlin is a cherry bonnet, with effing rainbow sprinkles (or jimmies for all of you people who don't know normal english) at the top of the cone. So the ice cream looks like a red wizard's hat with a sprinkled rainbow brim. AWESOME!!!! Alas, Mister Softee's vanilla was out of order so I had to deal with some crappy chocolate. But I digress....

So I immediately told Spanish about my wonderful new find and she immediately had to inform her husband. She chose myspace as the mode of delivery. I sent her a photo of something called the Nutty Merlin. After teaching her how to upload the photo and post-it (allbeit an impatient teaching session) she was like ok, I think I got it. Then she called to say it wasn't working. We worked through that issue. Mind you, I'm trying to watch TV and eat dinner.

About a half hour later, she called yet again, right as they are announcing who was going home on Dancing with the Farts (and yes, I say farts instead of starts because let's face it, the word fart will always be funny). She was laughing hysterically. I made her wait until I saw the one-legged wonder get the boot.

Through uncontrollable laughter she explained that instead of a comment she had posted a bulletin. The title was "come check out my image!"

The photo was of something called a Nutty Merlin. Which honestly, in the image, does not look too much like ice cream. She either comes of like 1. Someone who REALLY like ice cream. 2. A wierdo. 3. Someone who really likes nuts named merlin.

So please excuse anything Spanish may send you on myspace. She's a great friend and wonderful gal, but when it comes to myspaceing she's in the remedial class.

PS I've learned to turn my phone off during naps.

An Open Letter To The Man Of My Dreams aka Heath Ledger

Heathy baby,

I love you. You know I do. I think you are the most attractive man in the universe. But if you make one more depressing love story I am going to have to break up with you and hold out hope for someone else.

As I write this, I watch the end of the movie Candy. It was good, don't get me wrong, but it's tragic. And I know you like to flex those acting muscles, but any chance I can get A Knight's Tale 2 or 11 Things I Hate About You? That was a nice movie. Nice and neat in the end. I like those. I like it when Heath gets the girl in the end and you both stay alive and live happily ever after. You have your indie-cred. You got the nomination. Now give us ladies what we want instead of constantly flipping us off (or wait, is that only the papparazzi?).
And almost showing your peen in the movie? Tease.

While your next project where you play The Joker really excites me, I need a feel good film. Even Michelle made The Baxter. It was indie-light, but light all the same. So whaddya say Heath honey? Please, for me? Just a light romantic comedy? It'll put Matilda through college!

Love,

Your Dearest Jones

P.S. Next indie film you do, whip out the peen, the world is waiting.

P.P.S. Take a shower, you look crusty.