Ho-tel, Mo-tel, Holiday Inn....

Hotel living suits me. As I write this, I just showered with expensive toiletries at hand (Crabtree & Evelyn), my clothes are hung up and ironed in my closet, I'm drnking a cup of fershly brewed tea and getting ready to go to bed at 10:30 pm.

Looks like Chicago has aged me into my forties and it agrees with me, I look fab.

On the other hand, I almost slipped when I got into the shower and I realized that if I fell and died, no one would find me until Tuesday when I'm supposed to check out. Whoever found me would see all of my naked lady parts. Even in death I'm still modest.

So I got out and rested my cell phone on the floor next to the tub just in case.

Being single sometimes blows. But at least I smell like delicious Crabtree & Evelyn products (although I've never seen anyone under the age of 40 shop there...shit!).

More on my Chi-town trip when I return. And no, I did not get to hang with the former crush and put an end to my lust. Figure I wouldn't keep leading you on there. Unlike some people I know.

Sadists

I love how the post wih the most comments ever is the one in which a man masturbates on my leg/butt.

You are all gross.

Yay for Friday in Lent!

Every Friday in Lent means it's pizza day! I order pizza for dinner every week!!

I just ordered (I will not disclose how much pizza) and then I realized, I forgot to order my grape soda. If you have not tried it, pizza and a grape soda is the best combo EVER!!!

Luckily, I have a cherry coke stored in the fridge! Yay for Fridays in Lent!

Is that an 8-ball in your pocket, no, it's your peen.

On the subway with Q on Tuesday. Packed rush hour train. I only had her to hold on to and some man leaning on me. I felt something poking my butt/thigh repeatedly. Then I realized the train wasn't moving.

I still feel filthy.

Babysitter's Club: A PSA

As many of you know, my first job was as the friendly neighborhood babysitter. I love kids, always have, always will. I love that they are little people that have their own sense of logic. Word got out at how awesome I was and my client base would make Kristy from the BSC cry to Maryanne.

Now, part of my awesome extended from the fact that I knew how to have fun with kids but still kept them in check (I am not afraid to distribute a time out). I mean, I was 14 and the kid had to be in bed by 8 pm so I could watch friends.

There was one family I grew really close with and I watched their son from the age of 6 months until he was around 6 or 7 (would have been longer but I went away to school). In those years, I was around for the birth of his sister and I met all of his friends and would watch other kids in his neighborhood.

He was adorable. A perfect little Irish kid who was sweet and precocious at the same time. We got along famously and I watched him grow from Barney to Power Rangers to the early Harry Potter books. We spent a lot of time together (including one whole summer when I was 15) and I have many stories.

Here's where my public announcement comes in. When he was about three, he started to potty train. I was elated because it meant no more poopy diapers for me to change. So you can imagine I was excited when I arrived one day and his mom told me that he was going on the toilet! Yay!

That morning, his mom left and I put on the TV while I set out some coloring books for us. My little man told me he was going to use the big boy potty so I took a break from coloring Cookie Monster to catch up on a soap for a few. Mind you, the bathroom is four feet from where I was. Five minutes later I hear his angelic voice exclaim, "I'M FINISHED!" Since he was new to the whole potty thing, I clapped and shouted a supportive "Good for you! Yay!" and continued to watch my stories. Two more minutes go by.

"I'M FINISHED!"

I gave another supportive yell and some more applause.

A few more minutes go by: "JONESY! I'M FINNNNNNNNNNNIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDDD!"

Lightbulb. "Um, do you need help?"

I open the door and homeboy is chilling on the bowl, little legs dangling. "I'm finished," he said like I was supposed to do something. What his mom had neglected to tell me was that while he could drop a deuce on the big boy bowl, he had yet to master the art of the wipe. He had been shouting for me to wipe his ass. Since I had been doing that since he was a baby, I had no problem helping but I couldn't understand how someone would teach their kid to poop and not show them the wiping process. Like really, they go hand in hand! Needless to say, I learned my lesson and from then until he learned how to use TP, I was on hand when he needed his heiny wiped.

Sadly, this was not the last time this would happen to me. I was a camp counselor for years. My first year, I had self-sufficient 12-14 year-olds (including Spanish's sister!). My second year, I had kids going into first grade, most of whom were five or six. We hung around most of the day with the kids in Kindergarten (my sister was the head counselor in that group). By this time, my teenage alcoholism had set in and my sister and I (and 90% of the rest of the counselors) would roll into work everyday hungover. On those days (everyday), we would ask for movie time, which meant air conditioning and quiet for an hour. On this particular day, I was exhausted and movie time was lodged between lunch and swim time. This meant that after the movie, every single kid had to pee. I took my kids to the bathroom. One of the quietest and sweetest kids went in and immediately farted. I knew she was going to poo. We were in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. After asking her about five times if she had needed help, she finally said, yea, I think I'm done. I asked her to open the door so the next girl could go.

As if she were the Queen of Sheba, she swung open the door (still sitting on her throne) and said "I need you to wipe my heiny first."

Now, when you work with little kids at a licensed summer camp there are STRICT rules about touching kids. Especially when you are alone with them. I feel bad, because I laughed at this girl in the face while I sent my CIT (who was nearby with the girls who were waiting) to get some baby wipes from my sister. I took one and realized that there was no reason I should have to do this. I didn't really know her parents well (not like I was the trusted family babysitter or had ever changed her diaper). So I did the only thing I could think of. I held the babywipe up to my shorts and acted out how she should wipe. I taught the girl to wipe her ass through effing mime.

So parents and future parents of America, I implore you. PLEASE TEACH YOUR KIDS TO WIPE BEFORE LEAVING THEM IN THE CARE OF AN UNSUSPECTING TEENAGER. Thank you.

Everyone Was Doing It

The Wild Rose Random Brutal Love Dreamer (RBLD) shmolorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose. Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling. You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective. The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone. Your exact female opposite: The Dirty Little Secret Deliberate Gentle Sex Master Always avoid: The Bachelor (DGSM) Consider: The Vapor Trail (RBLM)

Link: The Online Dating Persona Test @ OkCupid - free online dating My profile name: : mags101681

I'm the same as her.

UR SECRETZ. I KNOWS DEM.

I know someone who has something in common with Eliot Spitzer. Ass.

You lika the Perry?

So apparently the folks who surf the interwebs are fans of Perry on Make Me a Supermodel and the drama with his girlfriend. Ever since I posted some stuff about it, traffic has spiked. So here I am, mentioning it again, in hopes that some of you who visit for the info like the blog and continue to read. If you don't, suck it.

So it turns out I was wrong, that she didn't leave him a voicemail and they actually spoke on the phone. BUT when he called her back after hanging up on him, she totally hit "IGNORE" and sent his ass to voicemail. She was probable too busy grooming Adnan's face pubes.

I'm excited to see how the drama unfolds, but Perry, if you ever read this, please get in touch. Your fine ass deserves way better!

An Open Letter: To the girlfriend of Perry on Make Me a Supermodel

It's Jonesy Bitch.

WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU? According the the interwebs, you got caught up with Adnan, yes Britney's nasty BF with the flavor savor soul patch.

Supposedly, on tonight's epi, you will leave Perry a cryptic message and dump him.

WHAT! ADNAN! Do you have brain trauma? Does Adnan have a platinum cock covered in chocolate?

Perry is hot. He is what men should be. Hot, a little gay, and just HOT!

I think you should go hang out with Julia Stiles. Maybe you two want to make a suicide pact?

Fuck you and you're trying to be famous ways.

My past still haunts me. I confess: I was a cheerleader.

Yes, it's true. There was a time when running around in nothing more than midriff-bearing tops and teeny skirts made me happy. I loved poms. I owned Kappa sneakers. I took private gymnastic lessons. I carried a megaphone. I suffered injuries (and think I have the early signs of an arthritic knee and wrist). There were no qualms about wearing warm up suits. I did spirit fingers and made rock and roll signs with my hands. Sponge curlers are a useful hair styling tool and I know how to use them. Never dropped a Spirit Stick and yes, I brought it on.

Okay, so it's out there. I started in the 4th grade and was hooked. It was girly and it was fun and by 5th grade, I was a captain and my sister was my coach (At the time, I didn't think one thing had to do with the other, now it's sort of obvious, although I was pretty damn dedicated). We cheered during the fall for boys basketball and in the winter we competed. Hard core. We didn't mess.

By high school, Spanish and I were all but drafted as freshman onto the varsity squad. Our talent was sort of benched for year since we were the newbies but we went to Nationals, hit the big blue mat, and watched the seniors choke. Whatever, we had three more years. Oh, and we weren't allowed to cheer for the boys school since they had thrown condoms at squads in the past. We cheered for the girls basketball team.

Sophmore year, at one point, I had to tumble five times in our routine. I coined the term "backheadspring" since would sort of flop over on my head and stand up. I'm sure I had concussions and looking back, I am thankful I never broke my neck. Nationals again, we were better this time but not good enough.

Junior year, at this point, most of my friends were on my team. Coincdentally, I hated the rest of our team. Florida again. More choking. I got in trouble for flirting with ugly male cheerleaders. It was retarded and we sort of sucked. But we got new uniforms. I remember this because I had a 22 inch waist a 6-pack at the time. Ha! I became the girl who showed up in her uniform reeking of ciggies.

Senior year, Spanish and I defected to an All-Star team. At this point I was sticking with it for college and secretly wanted to be a coach/instructor. We got uniforms that showed our stomachs. We had a fat girl on our team. That was mean. At one point, I slept through the SAT II's because I was awake from a practice and was stressed about a competition the same day. I drove in a blizzard, visit several doctors for my wrist injury, and finally got on a squad that didn't choke. We rocked every competition. Until nationals, when due to an injury that happened 5 minutes before we hit the mats, Spanish's base couldn't really perform well. Boo. I hung up my shoes that day. Literally, on my wall.

There were camps (retarded because I could never find a place to smoke) and clinics and bake sales and pep rallys. I loved it. Until it stopped being fun. By college I was done and I just wanted to drink and smoke. I went to a meeting to see what our team was about. They didn't compete and they sucked so I bailed. Although, if I knew then what would happen to my teeny taut body then what I know now I would have slapped the smile on and picked up the poms.

Okay, all that boring shit aside, I stumbled on this website yesterday and found this:

REALLY? How old are these kids, 5, maybe 6? And the kid bellys are in full effect ('cept for my girl in the middle, she's ripped!). Full makeup and hair too! Since when is something that requires extreme agility, strength, and flexibility, a training camp for TEENY WHORES?

If you look at pic of me when I was 9, my skirt is clearly down to my knees. Our tops were sweater material. Not all this silver polyester sparkle and baby belly. This just makes me angry. My mom would NEVER let me rock this gear. I hope these poor kids don't lose their viriginty under the bleachers after the big game.

I pray I have only sons.

I'm in love.

Oh. Dear. God.

I just found out I am landing in Chicago during the middle of their St. Patrick's Day parade. My hotel is a few blocks from the route. HELP ME!

We're 3!

Yesterday marked the 3rd anniversary of this here little blog. What started as an experiment (and still sort of is) has turned into a way for me to rant, gossip, and flat out bitch about goings on--from everyday to the celebrity.

Anyway, this is a thanks to those of you who read these, however frequent or infequent, however whiny or funny. I hope I've given you at least a few minutes distaction frm your day job.


Here's to another year, more drunk rediculousness and maybe even some quality peen (for me, not for you).

Cheers! And Godspeed (I love saying this and can never find an approproate moment, so eff it, it's going here.).

Happy Fake St. Pat's!

It's officially drinking season! With more phony St. Patrick's Days (hoboken, Belmar, Jersey City, White Plains and finally NYC), March Madness and the impending spring, people are finally coming out of their winter cocoons for their love of the drink.

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 7:30 AM to haul ass to Hoboken. This is earlier then I wake up for work everyday by over an hour. That right there speaks volumes.

I got into the 'boken at around 9:15, went to DM's apartment for a quick bagel and then we walked to wait on line. The bar opened at 11, we were on a line that went halfway down the street by 10:15. As we were waiting, I jokingly wondered out loud what would happen i the bar finally opened and we were still stuck online.

And that's exactly what happened. Thanks to a fire marshall, the bar went to one and one by 11:05. It took in total, 2 hours and 45 minutes for me to get my first drink. Although, I do give them credit for having the least crowded bar (when you needed a drink you got one within minutes) area and places for us to actually sit down. The wait was a blessing in disguise, because when the drinks started to flow they flowed fast. Cider went down in minutes and Bud Lights in even less time.

And then we made the crucial error that we always make. Leaving the fun to find more fun. The group split and we all ended up at different parties. When we finally all reunited (to meet at another bar which had a line so I went home) to find that none of us had had as much fun as we did earlier that day. But the day was still a success as I got drunk, witnessed an arrest straight out of cops, and ended up mking a poor food choice (and subway choices, for some reason I got off the Path at Christopher Street when I live in Hell's Kitchen??).

And the best part, since we were out so early, I was in bed by 11 pm. I woke up at 9 am fresh as an Irish rose. Gotta love St. Pats--whether they are real or fake!

The drunkest guy in all of Hoboken yesterday

Sorry it's sideways.

South Bea-yotch

I love you Nick Swardson.

Eerie

I just found this old post. It's messed up in more way than one. I'm effing clairvoyant.

Something a little cheery after that last post...

This ALWAYS makes me chuckle:

http://www.xsunderground.com/thechilde/

But this is totally the type of guy I was referring to in the previous post.

The Guythagorean Theorem

In an email conversation with DMBMeg, we wondered why it's always the lame guys that like us the most. Sure someone awesome will want to diddle me every so often, but it's always the lamest, weeniest possible people who want to date me. The kind of guy that wears his heart on his sleeve and tells you what an "amazing person" you are. The kind of guy that cuddles. The kind of guy that wants you to take the lead in the bedroom ALL THE TIME. The kind that isn't really funny, doesn't have much personality...kind of like the Whitney Port of guys. In a sense, a big weenie.

I am totally his type.

I have a theory that when it comes to strong and independent minded women, manly men just stay away. It's like we are a threat to their machismo. Sure they can think we are hot and want to bone us but the second we assert ourselves and say what we want we get put on the shelf.

It's like Type-A doesn't mesh with another Type-A's. You hear about power couples and I think it's bull. It's either people in a relationship of convenience (Hillary and Bill) OR some sort of weird balancing act that only exists in a perfect world.

The math works out like this:

Type A + Type B = Power wife and Mr. Mom

Type A + Type A = devizzzle


Maybe it's because I say no and I argue and always think I'm right. Maybe it's because I'm so used to answering only to myself that I give off this "I am not one to be fucked with"-vibe. Maybe I just seem scary because I refuse to be something I'm not.

Or maybe it's all my problem. Maybe I am bound to end up with a lame-ass girly-man who lets me run the show and never challenges me. God I hope not. I thrive on the challenge and I want to be led. I want someone to prove me wrong and show me that they can be the boss of me. I want someone to take control and show me how it's done rather than the other way around. I want a teacher and a leader and someone who wants me to be the same. I want the one I'm not supposed to, the one that let me down (just under different circumstances). I wish I could go back in time and change some things and find a way to make it happen rather than giving up. I wish I had never had found out what he did but I would be delusional if I wasn't somewhat relieved that I have.

Since none of that is possible, I'm left to figure out where I'm going and what the hell I'm taking from all of this. I'm a getting stronger? Am I learning more about myself? Because lately I just feel lost, like I've been on the shelf for a while and if someone doesn't notice me soon I might expire. Life is happening all around me but it's not happening to me. Essentially, except for my job and number of sexual partners, I am in the same place I was four years ago. Sitting here, on the laptop, staying strong and still chasing the boys away, one weenie at a time.

Or maybe I just need to learn how to be the neck and learn how to keep control without letting a guy know I have it. Maybe I need to compromise and ease up. (I can think of three people who will scream: DUH! to this.)

So am I destined to marry someone who will be my bitch for the rest of my life or will someday, someone find my sense of self and opinions exhilarating and fun? Or am I just a hot mess who is confused with how the world works? Or someone who is obviously overlooking the right guy for her (this I don't think is true)? Or, gulp, am I just someone who was meant to be alone and live a more solitary life? Only time can answer those questions for me, but if this theorem works out...the girly-men of NYC better watch out.

Really?

How much worse can the spelling get on Flavor of Love? Season 1 it was funny, Season 2 it was redic. and now it's just horrid.

So examples:

DYMZ
Grayvee
Seezinz
Myammee
Shore-Tee
Sinceer

If you can read these you have been watching this show for way too long.

BOOOOOOOO TO SNOW!

Due to the crap-tastic weather my weekend getaway have been cancelled.

Now on my day off I am watching Tyra. There is, I shit you not, a 90 year old lady discussing vaginas and sex. I think I just got the stomach flu again.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed..."

I came home today from a night at my mom's house. When I walked in my room, things seemed a little, er, off. Like there was definitely a Goldilocks in my room last night!

1. I couldn't find my effing remotes. They are always in my bed under the comforter. WTF?

2. The comforter itseld is on the bed the wrong way.

3. The pillows were out of order and the throw blanket was folded weird.

I wondered, "Who slept in my bed last night?" It had to have been London who like to crash in my room because she thinks hers is too loud, cold, bright etc. I don't care but she usually send me a text to give me the heads up.

Update: Suspicion confirmed as she told me when she walked in the door. I should have known by the comforter.

For real?

So Perez is saying that Steve Guttenberg is going to be on Dancing With the Farts this season...REALLY?

Part of me is so excited that I want to pee myself and the other half of me is like, WTF?

I always had a thing for Mahoney from Police Academy and Lobo from Don't Tell Her It's Me (I only know of one other person who knows of this film...if you do, you are awesome).

But this man has been in no where for the last like 10-15 years. Why make this your big comeback?

Also, Adam Corrolla may be on as well. Why do I picture him "accidentally" taking of his partner's dress exposing her boobs while Dr. Drew winces and Jimmy Kimmel cheers.

Who else are the gonna drag up to do this show? Here are a list of people I would LOVE to appear on Dancing with the Farts:


1. Manute Bol
2. Roger Clemens (with weekly testing for HGH)
3. The kids from Yo Gabba Gabba (especially Seth)
4. Rhea Perlman
5. Lark Voorhies (Where is she?)
6. Bobby Brown (his gyrating would make for some colorful remarks from Bruno)
7. Eric Stoltz in costume as Rocky Dennis
8. Ice-T's wife Coco
9. Stephen Baldwin (I can't get enough of this guy)
10. Daniel Baldwin (put these boys on the same season...it would be a train wreck!)
11. Pau Ruebens
12. Mystery


Any other suggestions of random folk they should get to make ASSES of themselves?

An Open Letter to the girlfriend of Perry on Make Me a Supermodel

Whoever you are:

ARE YOU A MORON? You suck so bad. Even if he was cheating on you (which he's perfect so I don't think he ever wuld do that), you suck it up and deal like Nora Walker (as portrayed by the magnificent Sally Field) on Brothers & Sisters. Ignore it. Let it go. Because you will never get a man as good looking and full of awesome as you have right now.

Brother is so effing hot I would literally lick him on the face if I saw him in person. I would suck on his broken foot and I hate feet.

So seriously girl, get over yourself and tell the man what he wants to hear without being a menstrual beyotch. And make him a tape for Valentine's Day/YOUR ANNIVERSARY.

That is all.

-JONES

PS Why is the world full of such shitty girlfriends when fabulous ones like me are left on the bench?

I word red and everything today. Happy v-day bitches!

I'm gonna get so skinny!

I can barely taste anything because my nose is so stuffed! Awesome!!! Skinny sickness is the best!

Is it just me?

Or does James on Paradise Hotel 2 look like Christian Bale...a lot.

You be the judge.

Also, as I was just on the PH2 website, I learned that one of the contestants has since died...that's really sad. How do you still air that? And the guy died like in October. When was this show taped? Does he die on the show? I hope not...but the show is on my9...they have a show called "Jail." I would not put it past them at all.

Blehrghksdkh

That's what my coughing sounds like. I seem to ave caught the NYC plague and am home sick today. Yet, I still find myself checking work emails constantly. I finally had to ask that they include someone else from my department on the emails because there is no way I can do this work from home. Will I ever get a break? I guess it's my fault for checking in...

You can see this poor girl's thong outline. Hot mess.

The spice girls. Nassau. The bulk of the audience were in utero the last time they toured. I hate teens.

So football is over...

"It was time The Patriots let someone else win. They win all the time." - my roommate, Tiny Dancer who is a YANKEE FAN, who says "Psh" to me when I say this about the Yankees.

Can't have it both ways sista...What's good for the pigskin is good for whatever baseballs are made out of (cow leather?).

Let's go Mets! Yay Santana! (as I say as I am still recovering from last year). I'm ready for some BASEBALL!!!!!!

Thank to the East Village Idiot...

for pointing out this resurgence in Donkeylips' career.

So...

Tom Brady lost the Superbowl this year. He still puts is peen inside Giselle every night. So yea, he still wins.

Another weekend has come and gone

and Sunday anxiety is setting in while I (sorta) watch the Superbowl. Meh.

People in my building are shouting...that means the Giants just did something good.

Small realization this weekend...apparently you can call me Good Luck Jones. I have evidence of at least two hookups who started dating a girl right after we DI'd. Neither was someone I wanted to date, but it slims the odds of making them repeat offenders (which I have always found as an effective method to keep my overall number at a minimum). I always thought my pikachu had magic powers...too bad they don't work in my favor.

Adieu.

The one time I wish I was Sarah Silverman...

Jimmy doesn't know! Jimmyh doesn't know!

I love Matt Damon.

Bravo's Balls

On tonight's Make Me a Supermodel, the wannabe models had to pose nude for an art class. I figured it would be the usual, show them from the neck up, maybe some heiny...um, no.

Apparently Bravo has jumped on the side boob bandwagon. Also they were an inch away from showing pikachu.

I don't want to see side boob Bravo. But I would like to see more of that hot guy, Perry. He better win.

kthxbai.

A-men.

Tiny dancer will burn in hell. This is taken from her 'hot priest" calendar. What's with the bottle of jaeger? And the cig? Amen to both!

I'M GOING TO HOLLYWOOD!

Apparently i auditioned for idol in omaha. Not really but i was watching and this chick is my bizarro twin. I'm going to hollywood!

In case you didn't know...

I'm attempting this thing called "dating." Apparently people go out in public and get to know each other before going home and sexing. Sometimes you get free drinks and dinner! And you don't get shitfaced and forget what happened! WHO KNEW?



Yet another sign of the apocolypse. Start repenting people....

Question...

Does anyone know of any hot spots to meet single men (straight ones)? I know of the obvious ones in Manhatty but I would love to hear some tips on some possible untapped resources.

Lately I've been realizing that I've been recycling way too many guys from the past. I need to meet some new semi-attractive, slightly chubby, hysterically funny guys who are closeted sociopaths with great talents for mind effing me and making me cry. That seems to be my type.

So if anyone has any suggestions, I'm open...

Blarghity blah...

This weekend went by wayyyy to fast. I pray this week flies by. Work, work, work...does it ever end?

In other news, I saw Kathy Griffin at the WaMu Theater at MSG on Saturday. If you ever get the chance to see her ...go!!! She's hysterical.

Anyway, I am in serious need of some drunk this weekend...

I heart Disney tweens...

I just put the Jonas Brothers on my iPod and Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus is now my ring tone.

Yes, I'm 26 and I rock out like a 9-year-old.

And if you don't like it you are a doo-doo head.

Word.

Watermelon bellinis are tasty. At vynl with dm...venting.

Heath Coverage: American Media at its worst

The speculation on these bullshit news shows is redic. They are all just doing this for ratings and the public eats it up.

Personally I'm sticking to the New York Times if I want to learn any other details (which honestly, I really don't, it bums me out).

Sometimes I wish I could shake middle America and explain that there are bigger things out there than celebs. Seriously, most people don't even know who the '08 candidates are or that yes, we are still at war. But if I did, I'd be a hypocrite. I drink the Kool Aid as much as the next guy.

Sure, the untimely death of a mega-star is news, but sadly, it's being exploited for ad dollars.

At least I'm not in England. They are way worse.

I hope i feel better tomorrow.

Watching the asshats on Idol

is not making me feel any better. Let's see if the nachos I ordered help.

Yes. I'm being dramatic. But he was my number one crush.

Signs of the Apocolypse

1. Dustin Diamond becoming a douche.

2. All four Baldwin Brothers on TV shows at the same time

3. Death of Heath Ledger.

Start praying people.

In Memoriam

Check out this post dedicated to Heath, less than one year ago...

An Open Letter...


Or this "If I Could" where I describe my wedding to him (and Robbie Williams at the same time)

I'll be missing you...

1.22.08

The day my biggest celeb crush of all time died. My heart is broken. I will miss you Heath Ledger.

God is mean.

Here are a list of people that God should have taken instead:

1. Jennifer Love Hewitt
2. Jeff Goldblum
3. Carrot Top
4. Britney (she's going anyway)
5. Amy Winehouse (Ditto)
6. Anyone other than Heath Ledger.
7. Julia Effing Stiles

I have legit chest pains and I feel like crying.

RIP Heath. You will always be someone I loved once.


Update: I have not been able to do any work since I found out. I am officially devastated.

Update 2: I'm totally depressed that my niece and soon-to-be nephew will grow up in a world without Heath...

Update 3: I just realized Heath will be in the "In Memoriam" montage during the Oscars. I just want to cry.

Update 4: I'm trying to figure out how to mourn someone I've never even met. I thought about going down to Broome Street but I realize how redic that is.

It feels so nice...

to spend a Friday night in for the first time in what seems like months. TV and sleep are seriously what I need right now! Happy long weekend (to some, I know Mrs. Krabbypatty and DM have to work on Monday)!

I feel you bro.

This up there with Big Red from last year. This song is addictive. London and I decided that if we ever have a hetero-life partner commitment ceremony (when we are 45 and still living together) this will be played. You know this is gonna be on the radio. Enjoy.

Do I or Don't I?

So I've now been on 3 dates with this guy. It's so PG it's rediculous.

The problem is I can't tell if I like him or not. Usually I know right away and I get totally swept up in falling in like. Not this time. I'm numb. He's funny, nice, and pretty effing good looking. What's not to like?

Well, he leaves messages like the guy in that commercial ("Hey. How are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.") and he doesn't watch TV. What am I supposed to do with that?

But he's different than anyone I've ever given a shot before. So I figure I'll keep trying until I get that all consuming feeling or justs top answering his calls until it goes away. God, I hate this getting to know you crap.

Stay tuned...

Sexual Tension x 7 years

In life, I have been generally lucky enough to hook up with almost every guy I've ever wanted to hook up with. Sure there have been the handful that have fallen through my grasp but ever since I took a queue from my good friend Angel in college, I've pretty much gotten a little something from those I set my sights on. Although I'm not counting the repeat here. I have a tendancy to want people years after I hook up with them and they are either taken or simply not into me anymore (from which I can recover pretty quickly with only three exception and those are the three that broke my heart). But overall, I would say I operate at an 85-90% success rate. Which is pretty funny considering that all of my game is built on the fact that I have no game.

Ok, so back in 2001 when I was studying abroad in London I was man crazy. I had a crush on anything with a peen. Within a mile radius. I swore I was going to fall in love that semester and God did I try. I made out with an average of 5 guys every Saturday night. It never happened. No great love story. All I ended up with were some really good stories.

But there was one guy. One guy who I started crushing about three weeks before we left. Sure we had flirted a bunch of time as we were wasted or passing each other in towels after showering (I had to walk a small flight of stairs to the bathroom and the guys had to travel even further). But after awhile I started to majorly want this guy. Long story short, we talked a big game but the two of us couldn't get our shizz together. We were either too preoccupied, too drunk, or too busy hooking up with other people. But we got along so well and had a rediculously obvious sexual tension (so much so that I was banned from saying his name until I saw his peen).The one night we were both ready, willing, able and alone, we got interrupted by his best girl friend in a crying fit. Never one to break the hos over bros bond (I was friends with her too) I let him go off and calm her down. By the time we were ready to DI, his roommate was passed out in the room talking in his sleep. We stayed up talking for hours and it was really weird, turns out we has so much in common. He pretty much got me (that never happens--only two others guys have come close and they are two out of the three who have broken my heart) and it made me angry we hadn't gotten to know each other that well sooner. Not to date, neither of us wanted that, but to become really good friends. At the end of it all, the roommate sort of woke up and we shared a lingering kiss and I sent myself to bed, never to have the opportunity again.

I saw him again when I returned over spring break the next semester to visit another friend. He had told people I was coming to see him that cocky douchebag. We barely hung out and came no where near the chemistry that we had the first time around. And that was that. I figured I would never see him again but every so often around NYC I would swear I saw him. On the subway. In the W. Village when I was in grad school. On Fifth Ave.

Finally through the magic of facebook, we have been put back in touch. We email, we post to each other's walls and we are even violently Superpoking each other. I figured it was no big deal. Until I found out I will be in Chicago in March. Where he lives. Over his birthday weekend.

As I have now been dubbed "the best present ever," I'm getting a little concerned. The sexual tension is running high (even though the years have only accentuated the amibiguity of his sexuality-I still don't think he's gay but others argue) and now I know I will actually see him. And soon.

So what should I do? I know I have to see him but should I even bother exploring the idea of a hook up? I don't want this to go down as big regret (as it has been since that one night. even the girl who innterrupted us has since apologized to me since she knew what we were about to do and how bad we both wanted it) but at the same time, I don't want to get excited for something that won't happen. Or something, according to DM, has the potential of being incredibly dissapointing.

I have two months to decide. But God, all I can think about is how awesome that one kiss was. And how good it feels to finally get what you want, even if it's just sex with no promises of any sort of continuing relationship.

Does anyone else go through this? I just hate thinking that I have another chance to reverse one of the big "What If's" in my life and I might let it go. These chances don't come to often...

Stay tuned.

Oh, and PS: Turns out he was in NYC a bunch of times. It could have been him on the Subway. Who knows?

And now...

I'm back to being in the office five days a week and I wanna go back to Vegas...that city is like a guy who is awesome in bed but a real douche. It makes you feel dirty but you always want more.

No Viva Las Vegas

Can you believe it? I'm still in Vegas. But at least I get to come home tomorrow.



Let's recap all that has happened to me.



1. Went to a party hosted by Perez Hilton and Kristin Cavaleri's 21st bday party (by accident). I saw neither of them. Danced. Drank. Fell in love with the DJ at Cathouse. Realized I hate clubs and the men who inhabit them.



2. Walked up and down the strip several times. That's like 4 miles round trip plus all the walking in the casinos. I better be effing skinny.



3. Rode the deuce. Yes, the bus here is called the deuce. And it's like a tan/gold/brown color. Vegas is stupid.



4. Went to an aquarium. Laughed hilariously while DM freaked when she touched a sting ray. Fell in love with watching jellyfish.



5. We were having the time of our lives. Then we decided (or I decided) to take the Deuce to "Old" Vegas. Um...yea. This is where things literally went to hell. I mean it. If hell exists it'sthe Fremont Street experience. I saw legit crackheads. And drunk hookers. And they were selling 99 cent DEEP FRIED TWINKIES. And then something happened. We decided to play along and get those giant sized margaritas at a place called Le Bayou. A few sips, a few plays on a nickel Monopoly slot. Then....nothing. Black out. The next thing we knew, DM and I were dressed to go out. I didn't feel well and WHAT! My wallet was $140 lighter. Then we remembered we started playing "Deal or No Deal" slots. And decided to pump twenties into it. Then I was just pissed.



Oh yea, and apparently we were roofied or something because I was SICK as a dog all day Sunday. Not really roofied, but c'mon. I have never been that drunk off some cheap margarita. We weren;t even sure if we took a cab or the Deuce home. And we drank like 7 vodka sodas the night before (on top of frozen drinks before we went out). WTF? I hate Old Vegas.



6. Then, doing my work thing, I randomly bumped into Chris Hardwick (former host of Singled Out), Jon Favreau and that bald guy who played Charlotte's second husband on SATC, Evan Handler.



7. Got treated to a really nice dinner at Wing Lei in the Wynn...sweet!



8. Learned that Vegas is not like NYC and people do NOT know how to appropriately use a monorail.



That is all.

Help me....

I've been in Vegas for three days now. I want to come home!!! DM just left me and now I have to go to two days of meetings out here...HELP! This city is depraved and scary. I feel like I'm a CSI victim waiting to happen.

PS I have seen hell and it is "Old" Vegas. The one drink I had there has almost killed me and I seriously need to consider full time sobriety.

Happy 2008!

First post of the year. Here's to more mayhem in 2008...I already have two skinned knees from last night so I'm sure my upcoming Vegas trip will provide enough fodder for posts for January.

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!