the new year

If I'm nauseous tomorrow it won't be because of excess partying, but rather that John Edwards is currently ahead in the Iowa Caucuses. Sick.

My New Haircut

Have you ever done something that you instantly regret?
Sure you have. Actually I usually do it on a daily basis, but today's "oh mylanta what the hell was I thinking moment" came to me in the form of scissors and my willingness to let them go apeshit on my head.
I really did want to get my hair cut short, I did. I did the necessary research, ie: I photoshoped my head into an "instant styler" program and got an idea of what I might come out looking like.
THAT IS NOT REAL LIFE PEOPLE!
Ok, so it's not Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta short, but I'm still adjusting because I haven't sported this length since I was incapable of using the big kid's potty. Ironically though it has somehow added ten years to my face because when I went to buy cigarettes (yes, mid-meltdown I caved) I wasn't carded.
I get carded for trying to buy milk.
So this is a good or bad thing, I have yet to decide.
I'm definetly in my first stage of grief; denial. Hopefully I reach acceptance sometime before New Years Eve because when I reach stage 4 (depression) it's gonna be really hard to leave the house...

Christmas Day Hullabullu

This Christmas was sadly devoid of the usual holiday craziness (see watching my uncles get drunk and pass out) but not without an almost (thisclose) Christmas miracle.
So I'm sitting in my room watching ABC's Disney holiday parade extravaganza, god only knows why, when I hear my mom yell excitedly, "Jenny, come here!" (yes, I answer to Jenny at the homestead...when you live in the heart of Illinois people tend to add the "e" sound to the end of every name; jenny, angie, petey, susie, what have you-e)
Anyway so I ignore her like usual until I hear "come look at this, hurry up!"
I knew she was baking and I knew it was Christmas so logically I could only come to one conclusion: the face of Jesus had appeared in the green bean casserole. Our Christmas miracle had finally come.
I grabbed my camera and bolted to the kitchen only to find my mom basting, or whatever it is you do to them, the turkey and saying look how good this turned out!
I was pissed, but the turkey was delicious.

Suing for Damages

I got a letter yesterday. Not a Christmas card or a coupon to my favorite retail store, but a big, fat envelope from my alma mater.
strike one: they were asking for donations
strike two: they included a brochure listing names of everyone ELSE who had made a donation
strike three: I ended up getting a paper cut trying to open up the massive envelope which proves that they not only want my money, but that they are out for blood

Now every time I make the mistake of extending my pinkie finger for any reason whatsoever and the paper cut reopens itself I am reminded of the fact that while my school thought they could prey upon my charitable side during this holiday season, they failed to take into account that I am actually more bitter at this time of year. If I can pass up bell ringers without showing remorse then I can certainly ignore the pleas of an overpriced private liberal arts college (no matter what kind of physical pain they might inflict).
Stupid paper cut.

The Book of the Face

I just had an epiphany! Oh this is so great, why didn't I see it before?
I was watching E! the other day, don't judge, and they were talking about how when some celebrities, whose names escape me right now, called it splitsville that they issued a public statement (oh I think it was Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake). Then I got to thinking, I want to be soooo important that when I breakup with someone it requires some kind of public statement.
Then I realized....FACEBOOK!!! Every time you get together with someone or kick them to the curb EVERYONE hears about it on their newsfeed! I mean come on you advertised your hookup in the first place (and I'm not knocking it, I would totally do it too if I were in a relationship...which means it's never going to happen) you KNOW that you want everyone to know when you're back on the market too.
We all should bask in the fact that Facebook has turned everyone into local celebrities...go on, bask.

La Vie Boheme

All my friends seem to be taking this "moving to New York thing" (by way of New Jersey) very well. I've yet to hear that I'm an idiot for moving out there without a job or to be asked how I could possibly leave behind all that is the Midwest.
However, I happened to hear from a friend today that another friend of mine who has recently moved to Montana (which makes all of her opinions null and void) had a certain vision of what my time spent out east would be like.
"She said she thinks your life is going to be like Rent."
Now what am I supposed to do with that. When I hear Rent I think of AIDS, a stripper whoring herself out for crack, and fighting with an evil landlord for an apartment that doesn't have heat. Really? Is this what you envision for my future?
But after my rant it was explained to me that she meant dancing in the subway, spontaneous musical numbers, bohemian-style clothing, and hanging out with what she described as "artsy" people.
That I'm down for. Actually that's pretty much how I assume it will all be, minus the dancing on the subway. Believe me I already tried to put what a Coloradan once described as "midwest charm" to work on the subway and it does NOT work. The only dancing in the subway I foresee is the two-step shuffle to avoid pickpockets and being shanked.

Loves It

M.I.A.- Paper Planes
Also, loving the fact that she wanted to shoot the video in a factory in Ecuador...at least she tried!

Still Living with Regret...

So there's one more incident that happened at B & N that I would like to discuss. I was checking out when the cashier pointed to a basket and said "Would you like to donate to the children's book drive?"
Normally I would have said something like "No I hate children, no thank you", but all i could think about was how many salvation army bell ringers I have passed by this season and how they always stare me down and I say apologetically, "sorry I only have plastic" (which is usually true) and then they glare but say "happy holidays" which adds to the guilt and then they shake their bell a little harder either at you or to attract attention to the fact that you're a penny-pinching Scrooge who refuses to donate.
So burdened with this feeling I said that of course I would love to donate a book and glanced quickly over the selection and chose:
Barack Obama: An American Story
Why? Why did I do that?? Maybe it's the fact that I'm a Midwesterner and the Iowa Caucuses are coming up so everyone is in a tizzy about politics here right now. Maybe I thought yes, get those youngsters on the democratic bandwagon at a young age. Maybe it was the fact that it was the tallest book in the basket (ah, good marketing) but I picked it and bought it and donated it and now I'm still regretting it.
All I can think about is how if I were an impoverished child who was looking forward to this book drive and I got a biography on Obama, who they will probably confuse with Osama at their young age, I would be pissed beyond all words. Why, why didn't I pick up the Berenstain Bears book or Dora the Explorer (cute AND educational).
This can only end up in one of two ways:
a. the book finds its way to a slightly nerdy kid who has an interest in politics, inspires him or her and thirty years down the line in their presidential campaign speech he or she will note how this one biography from the book drive changed their life, to which I will finally breathe a sigh of relief or...
b. the child will stop believing in Christmas miracles, denounce his or her faith, lose faith in education, and become an illiterate satanist
Like i said, this can only go one of two ways...

Barnes ampersand Noble

One more post for good measure
The day before yesterday I was at B and N picking up a copy of Into The Wild a book that I've been wanting to read for a while now. I was waiting in a ridiculously long line having forgotten about holiday shopping season (Christmas means different things to different people and to me it means stay away from all places were goods can be purchased until mid-January, but apparently I wasn't thinking straight)anyway so while waiting I'm looking at the books on the "c'mon you know you wanna buy me" tables near checkout when I see a book entitled: Soft Shapes, The First Noel
I don't why, but I opened it and the first line I read is "Mary, heavy with child..." now I don't know about you, but this book appears to be somewhere between absolutely absurd and on the verge of opening up a can of worms with a curious kindergartner. Now it seems to me that if the book has to be made out of foam b/c the "reader" will be gnawing on it, that the content should stray away from pregnant virgins and maybe focus on a is for apple.

Where does this blog title come from?

So once upon a time, long, long ago (see October) I was out to eat with two of my good friends and their male uhm suitors I suppose is the best term. We were at my favorite sushi spot and admittedly I was fifth-wheelin' it pretty hardcore, but there is little that can come between me and the Sakura lunch special.
About ten minutes later after some awkward "morning after" conversation over miso soup, I was enjoying some particularly good alaskan rolls when I realized something: I didn't know where rice came from. I mean I'm not a complete dolt, I did have some idea behind the process. Whenever I thought of rice and its origins I had a stream of consciousness that went something like this: rice fields, water, rice patties, more water.
I started to become really concerned with the fact that I eat so much rice, but I couldn't even tell you how it was produced or visualize what the plant looked like. Not that I need to know where everything I eat comes from, in most cases it's probably in my best interest that I remain ignorant, however this just seemed like one of those things that everyone seemed to know but me.
So I played around with my food for a while contemplating what to do. Normally I would just ask, but there were these new people in our group which created a new dynamic and I couldn't say whatever I felt like saying. Plus this question seemed so ridiculous and I was worried about what these new guys might think of me. I usually like to give it a couple of months before people label me a moron.
Eventually I realized that I hadn't been talking for quite some time, which isn't my style, and finally dropped my chopsticks and just asked: "Where does rice come from?"

I'm pretty sure that people from five tables over were laughing at me. When one of my friends finally caught her breath she managed to say "you don't know where rice comes from...seriously?" and then the laughter resumed and I looked around embarrassed and still confused on the whole rice situation.
I was about to try to put a spin on the whole thing like I had just been kidding when I realized that the table was completely silent and everyone was staring into their maki rolls like they were fortune telling tea leaves.
And then I realized..."You s.o.b's don't know where it comes from either...do you?"
"no"
"no"
"no"
"uh...i mean...well...no"
Now maybe this just says something about the company I keep (aka everyone's questioning how we graduated) but I like to think instead that on this day a life lesson was learned; there's no such thing as a stupid question. Don't be afraid to ask about what seems to be the obvious because nine times out of ten there is someone else in the room asking themselves the same thing.
Or go home and google it and avoid this type of public humiliation altogether.

Note: After this debacle one friend felt empowered enough to admit to me that she had no idea where cranberries came from to which I began to mock her relentlessly and still do to this day. Hello, hasn't everyone seen those Ocean Spray commercials with those guys in the waders? What an idiot...