case in point:

fool #1: "i know! crush this itty bitty cookie on your tongue!"

fool #2 (aka me): "ok!" [proceeds to crush itty bitty cookie on tongue]

fool #2: "ta-da!"

fool #1: "you are so retarded!"

well... i can! it is my super-power.

well... that and the ability to hornace all the static electricity in the entire fucking universe.

for example: the can of stewed tomatoes at safeway late yesterday afternoon, or the stainless steel sink in the employee lounge at work, or my computer screen --- they have all felt my wrath!

muwahahahaa!

i can't talk... at all! and all this whispering is driving me insane. and i want to scream, but i can't because it would just sound like this-> "*********". and that would just be pathetic.

and it would just make me hoarse. duh!

and, it's bad enough as it is that the people i work with say things like "what'd you say? chicken?" when i said "again". and tell me that they don't know what the hell i'm on about and just shut up already.

hmpf!

hey look!... when i can't talk i start writing like how i talk! yabber, yabber, yabber, yabber, yabber...

for example:

my pants are tight.

uuuugh!

i just realized that when hubba hubba was in the office the other day, he called me a moron. to my face! my sweet, little, innocent face!

first i thought - hey! asshole! then i thought - geesh! does it show? but then i thought - you know, that's what boys do when they like you.

so, tomorrow i am convinced he'll pull my pigtails!

must. wear. pigtails. tomorrow.

that's what i said to myself when i discovered the error earlier today (at work).

note to self:

stop dressing in the dark. at least when choosing clothing that can easily be confused.

hey man! it works!

and that fruitopia was mine anyway, dammit. mine!

hey man! it works!

and that fruitopia was mine anyway, dammit. mine!

but today, i saw something disturbing... my ass! my god! what happened to my ass?! does this also mean there are other things going on in the rear of me that i should be aware of?!

arg!

last night i had a very bi sex dream.

!!!!!

what does this mean?

"ah, yes! yes i am," i said, "perhaps you've heard my stunning rendition of 'sponge bob squarepants'?"

and then he laughed. but then he looked at me all confused.

p.s. he is really FRIGGIN'-A tall. and sortof dorky in that i'd-still-boink-him kinda way... which is not surprising given my current state of horn.

deep thought for the day
when blowing the fuzz off of dandelions, it is wise to do so against the wind.

the only problem is i don't speak the language. i mean, they pretend to speak (and understand) english, but they lie. they are not kidding me!

i know from my 30+ years of experience, that i speak english. but because they don't seem to understand me, i can only deduce that they don't speak english!

for your review, i will post an example of an actual conversation had in a little cafe, when i made the mistake of going out without my translator.

the man behind the counter says, "what can i get ya".

and i says to the man, "umm... i'll take a tomato quiche".

and the man behind the counter said, "pardon?" (because they're proper there, or something)

and i say, pathetically, i might add... "tomato... quiche."

and he says, "i'm sorry?" (see, proper)

and i say, "toe-may-toe... quiche."

and he says, "why don't you just point to what you want."

and i point... sheepishly... because i am defeated and i am in a different country and dagnabit i can't say it like them without making a silly face.

and then he says, "ah! the toe-mah-toe quiche."

...

oh, but they DO have this man in residence. mmmm.... man.

p.s. retard is moving. eek! who else will let me tape their face at 11:00 at night?! WHO?

p.p.s. if you live in the capitol hill area of seattle, are gay, and enjoy (1) disco, (2) gawking at pretty british boys, and (3) face-taping, contact me.

me need goofy friend ASAP.

i mean... one black eye, two fat lips, a dozen or so facial abrasions, 35 stitches, two skin grafts... now, that's not abnormal is it?

ok, sure, the telephone pole catastrophe. and the mcdonald's playground incident - those were just anomalies.

ANOMALIES!

this proves nothing!

note to self: never speak to the jackass without proper supervision.

1. my real life human name is jennifer.
2. my friends call me "jennifer", or "jen", or other variations of the name "jennifer".
3. my initials spell a racial slur.
4. i was born on november 7, 1971.
5. this makes me a scorpio.
6. this also makes me a big fat pig.
7. and it makes me 30. 32. Holy crap, I'm old!
8. i am currently divorcing divorced from dickhead (not his actual name).
9. i am the parent of a little boy who is so cute it hurts. because he looks like me.
10. i am so cute it hurts.
11. also, i am modest
12. i can eat an entire 12 oz. pan of tiramisu in one sitting.
13. my hips hate me.
14. i can't say "toy boat" 5 times fast without saying "toy boyt".
15. when i am intoxicated, i sometimes say "aks" instead of "ask".
16. my mother is AmerAsian. my father is GerScotHawaiian. This makes me an engGerIriHawScotAsian.
17. this perplexes many people.
18. i was born and raised on the big island of hawaii. [please insert pineapple-picking joke/don ho reference here. - ha ha. you're so funny.]
19. i currently reside in a trendy, spendy neighborhood in metropolitan seattle.
20. upon meeting me and discovering that i am from hawaii, people ask me if (a) i can dance the hula, (b) would i dance the hula, or (c) would i dance the hula naked on a table in a dimly lit room and let them lick poi off me... no, really! i'd like it, you know. he told me so.
21. according to kiersey, i am an estp.
22. frogs and toads scare the friggin' bejesus out of me.
23. when i laugh, i cry.
24. when i cry, i hide in the bathroom, just like a man.
25. on the rare occasion when i have sex, my neighbors turn their stereos up.
26. my bed squeaks like a mother fucker.
27. i own one dress (wedding).
28. i own 16 pairs of black shoes, all acquired over the past 9 months.
29. i have had the following things thrown into my cleavage: bottle caps, spare change, twigs, finger foods.
30. i have lots of beauty marks. which means that i am beautiful. or didn't you read #10?
31. i have furnished my entire apartment with little/no money.
32. this trait is called "resourceful", not "cheap".
33. man + turtleneck = rowr
34. i have sung karaoke on at least 3 different occasions.
35. i cannot dance the "macarena".
36. i cannot dance the "running man".
37. i am a college graduate.
38. i is also a collage dropuot.
39. if i won the lottery, i would travel the world in search of foreign boot-tay.
40. i also enjoy domestic boot-tay.
41. i can swear in spanish, filipino, portuguese, and english.
42. i swear (in english) a great deal.
43. i have taught my young child to swear a great deal.
44. i own the ugliest dish towel in the entire world.
45. if i am ever stupid enough to marry again, i will do it the right way... in vegas, with elvis presiding.
46. i can count all the men i've had sex with on 1 hand 2 hands... note to self: start whoring.
47. i can count all the men i've engaged in some sort of sexual contact with on 2 hands. and maybe, my foot. or feet... and maybe your feet too... note to self: stop whoring.
48. i have 1 little brother, whom, as a child, i taught to call me "boss".
49. i am currently teaching everyone to call me "boss".
50. i currently have a few people referring to me as "princess"... they do not mean it in a nice way.
51. i am scared of the strange man on the street who screams "you're beautiful!" at me, in a menacng tone.
52. i own a certain pair of black pants that renders men helpless against the urge to grab my ass.
53. i am scared of these men as well.
54. on the street, someone stopped me to tell me i was a "lovely lady"... yes. i am both lovely and old enough to call "lady".
55. i'm actually more of a broad.
56. i have a wrinkle... eek!
57. if i were a man for a day, i'd jump up and down naked to see if it felt just as funny as it looks.
58. i don't have a job, i have a career... whoop-dee-fucking-do.
59. celebrities i have met: walter cronkite, loretta lynn, sylvester stallone, lee haney, and two former members of menudo.
60. currently, my refrigerator contains a pint of skim milk, a box of chicken broth, a carrot, bottled water, half a lemon, and 2 kinds of mustard.
61. in the 80's i had big hair.
62. i also had a pair of parachute pants.
63. and a member's only jacket.
64. i am deeply saddened and embarrassed by those facts.
65. truth-or-dare is evil, i tell ya. e-vil.
66. i cannot stop watching "the iron chef" Gilmore Girls. Seriously, how come everybody in the whole world isn't watching it too? IT'S ADDICTING! Gah!
67. if i don't blow my hair dry, i will look like a big brown chia-headed girl.
68. i often daydream of sex.
69. heh.
70. i do not heed the warning on the "q-tips" box.
71. therefore, my ears are free of waxy build-up.
72. i recycle only at my leisure.
73. i am shorter than elton john, and taller than the fonz.
74. often, i am cleverly disguised as 5'11.
75. according to some people i am a royal pain in the ass... what. ever.
76. i think this may be the prettiest place on earth.
77. and this must be the cutest child on earth.
78. because he takes after his mother.
79. i carry condoms in my purse dresser... in case of emergency sex. I don't anticipate much EMERGENCY sex anymore.
80. i have been mooned once twice, but flashed thrice.
81. i am most commonly attracted to men who are pretty, but dumb as rocks tall, big boned, white boys... That are not dummys.
82. i have a cold.
83. i have developed a dislike of clowns. they. are. creepy.
84. i would make one lousy dominatrix.
85. i also make one lousy meatloaf.
86. i need to purchase clothes hangers immediately.
87. for some strange reason, i keep misplacing my pants.
88. i want a trampoline.
89. i also want a lifetime supply of beer.
90. i loves me some nutter butters.
91. i probably wear too much mascara.
92. lesson learned: at office parties, don't get drunk and call yourself the "shrimp pimp"... your co-workers will laugh at you.
93. my co-workers laugh at me.
94. because i'm funny, not because i embarrass myself.
95. no, honest!
96. i've been told i bear a striking resemblance to some girl named "jennifer" from "seattle".
97. my feet are wide.
98. my hair is brown.
99. my eyes are hazel (brown/green).
100. my skin is beige. And really white in some areas.
101. i am tired of typing.

< ? 100 Things # >

a former co-worker from big bootie ho called the office and told a current co-worker to "watch out for me". because i am "crazy" and "a handful".

exCUSE me?

and today, i forgot to put on anti-perspirant. GAK!

thankfully, i have enough neuro-toxins in my armpits to stave off any offensive odors until i could snag some right-guard from a co-worker.

yes. i am a manly man.

• rice pudding
• yogurt
• chicken broth
• ensure

i figure, i may as well eat like an old man since i'm not going to have any teeth, like an old man.

---

and in other news: OH MY FUCKING GOD!

ugh... drugs. wearing. off... must. find. vicotin...

also, i would really, really like to sit in my bed and surrupticiously watch television until my brain goes numb. but, i cannot find the remote control!<

what comes on after king of the hill? ARRrrr! what happens if i don't like it? will i have to get out of this bed?

[insert pitiful weeping]

ps. i am interviewing for faithful man servants at this time.

if you enjoy standing at the television and pressing buttons on my command, preparing chicken broth, opening cans of ensure, and patting my head pitifully, please send your resume to the personnel department.

this old man diet may be growing on me... ALOT!

when else can you get away with eating nothing but pudding and milk shakes all day long?

ps - chocolate ensure is pretty. damned. good.

for the internet's best account of a wisdom-tooth-extraction, start here, then go here, then here, then here.

and i promise not to talk about my dental surgeries ever again.

just because you're too lazy to move the notch-y thing from 5'-4" to 5'-7", don't think that you can alter the laws of gravity... but if you want to chance it anyway, at least make sure you're not alone.

or else you will sweat alot and get a headache from trying to *rock, rock, rock* yourself upright again.

...... now stop laughing at me.

but aside from that... today i wore a see-thru shirt. and i made scottish john (who i suspect is 40% gay) look at my boobies. hah!

this explains all the thinking-about-sex all the time. and my deep seated fear of commitment. and my bisexual curiousity. and all the beer drinking. and the incessant scratching of the crotch.

i was just joking about the scratching... really i was.

so, unless i want to scare off potential pay-for-dinner'ers with my back fat, i had better start exercising... immediately!

tonight! we begin! with the yoga!

objects in picture appear larger than in real life.

i do believe that is the first time someone has ever said that to me. why, i didn't think any of you noticed!

*blush*

---

see... i didn't lie. i am normally for intensive fighting. heeeya!

i'm a bad ass. be afraid. be very afraid.

but that's not what i'm here to talk about... i am once again disappointed in you people! i said "i am cute! right?", which we all know is girl for "tell me i'm cute", and only ONE of you people said i was cute.

hmpf! stuff ya!

and now it's starting to hurt... grreeat! and sticking my finger in my mouth like in the movies appears to do absolutely nothing at all!!

stupid diGiorno's pizza! i hate you AND your blasted rising crust! *hearty shaking of fist*

---

also, this woman is taunting me with her delicious cookies. somebody should go beat her up for me. go on! show her who's the boss!

me: "skanky ho."

people: "hahaha! no, really."

me: "ok... spy. but don't tell anybody, because, you know, the spy thing."

people: "haha! you're silly. now tell me what you do."

me: "national spokesperson for the kegelmaster 2000."

people: "oh, come on. tell me already."

me: "professional contortionist."

people: "ok, this is getting old."

me: "what? a girl can't have four careers? pig?"

people: "FINE! don't tell me."

and then, now that i have sufficiently annoyed someone at the bar, i can go home happy.

hey, i've met me... and i'm insane!

---

ps. does anyone else notice just how much i talk about sex in here? furchristsake! i must be the horniest woman alive!

for example: today at lunch my face said "dude! you can't dance!" to some guy standing at the table next to me.

someday this trait will get me beaten to a bloody pulp... but for now, i am still cute, so i can get away with it [batting eyelashes].

well... I GOT SOME! OHMIGOD! but i will not be gouging my eyes out... sorry!

but in actuality, all it was was his nipple rings. they distracted me... hey, they're shiny.

and i like shiny things.

i was sadly short on clothes when i went to do my laundry today, so I ended up wearing the tiny shirt. it's a tiny mo'fo (note: it has a "shelf bra" and i was therefore bra-less).

and when i knelt to load my clothes into the washer, i showed everybody my business!

hello, there boobies!!

---

i also made the following laundry observation:

dirty clothes are significantly more compact than clean clothes.

jennifer is...

• still mr. diddy's girl at heart. (yes. that's me all right.)
• multilengual. (howay oesday ooglegay owknay?)
• a dork. (oh, funny! ha ha, google. HA fucking HA!)
• as talented as she is beautiful. (i can forgive google for the dork comment only because he is just SO right about this!)
• waaaaaaaaay out of my league. (don't feel bad, google! most people are waaaaay out of my league.)

however, i am not peeing so much.

hmm.

---

ps. would it be wrong to change my template again? already? ... i gots me a nice picture of a faucet.

i was thinking of wearing the tiny shirt... but last time i did that i got a "whoa! put those away". and the time before that i made 40NZ cents. and the time before that i got a "you really shouldn't be jumping on a trampoline."

---

but i digress... would someone please come over and take out the garbage? i am lazy.

---

also my father thinks he's going to come up to seattle and stay in MY apartment. BAH!

i am never answering my phone again.

and short people kept standing next to me, making me feel uncomfortable. stupid short people.

---

also - i bought beer. woohoo! partay for me! ... wait. partay for me? like alone? heavens to betsy! i'm pathetic!!

however, if you IM me at some point tonight, i'm sure to be incoherent fun... woohoo!

1. jennifer got cat-called when getting off the bus this arvo. jennifer is enjoying the unusually high amount of male attention she is getting lately.

2. jennifer's favorite homosexual is back from italy. AND WITHOUT SHOES FOR HER! the bastard! he bought shoes for him! but none for her! geesh! some people!

3. jennifer thinks she needs to stop shopping when she is bloated. all her new clothes are too big.

4. jennifer currently thinks boys are cute and sweet and lovely to have around. someone needs to smack her. because she is deluding herself.

5. jennifer has many, many other things to say about herself, but she will stop now before she gets all carried away.

yes. amusing.

however. it is not amusing to tell me you won't really hit me, and you're just practicing your jackie chan impression. but then you kick me. REAL HARD! asshole.

i'm not trusting any of you anymore. especially those of you with dangly bits.

it tells me that i am moderately narcissistic (like i needed this test to tell me that). and that the possibility i have a histronic disorder is very high.

supposedly i "need to be the center of attention all the time". and i "dress provacatively" to "gain attention". and i "[believe] that everyone loves [me]".

please! i don't need to be the center of attention! it just happens naturally! because everyone loves me!

i do not know how to deal with this appropriately!

---

and for your enjoyment, here are a few jennifer factoids:

• jennifer is not in looooove, despite what booga says.
• jennifer told disco they were separated at birth. and he called jennifer a bitch.
• jennifer has to go to work now. bleh!

i be bouncing off the goddanged walls. whee! whee! WHEEEEEEEEEeeee!

also - this is the best friggin' blueberry muffin i've ever had in my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE! my god! who made this? JESUS??

it's kinda weird... how is it that i get dates at all?

hello there, stranger-on-the-elevator! would you like to meet my nipples?

oh, and you at-the-mailboxes! come here, in the light! and stare through my sarong! why... it's my business! go on! say "hi".

so anyway, i'm off to porny's. and WITH my bra on... horny will be so mad.

hmm... all's i need is pajamas and wrinkly-sheet-creases and my ensemble is complete!

but before you go, let me say this... i am suddenly lacking in amusement at my house in the evenings. i'm thinking of allowing a few of YOU people to call me. yes, YOU! are you excited?

details to be released soon!

i think there may be a direct correlation between that and the fact that i have been scraping the bottom of my clothes barrel.

for example: today i wore my shiny pants. and today i spent the day peeling my shiny pants off my ass.

pret-ty!

not only did he do the peek-out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye thing. but he sat in front of me so that his face would be at breast height. and when he stood, he "accidentally" brushed his entire face on me (and apologized to my cleavage).

ooo... he's slick.

and i didn't get so much as a "hey! nice rack!"... what a prick!

---

ps. fine! don't call me, you chicken shits! i don't need you! i have chocolate!

i'm a freaking word machine. in fact, i tend to talk so much and so fast, that sometimes the words become conjoined.

although, i don't think people should look so confused when i say "black velvis"... i mean, come on! isn't it obvious i said "black velvet elvis"

sheesh!

the pants-that-render-men-helpless-against-the-urge-to-grab-my-ass have a hole! EGADS! they are dead! unwearable! hole-y! now how will i beckon men to my ass?

let us now have a moment of silence.

also, i made the mistake of telling my so-called-friends that the new guy likes it a little rough.

i now answer to "slappy".

this will make someone named "chandler" very irritated with me. because all you people are potential stalkers. and i am magnetically charming. and you cannot resist. because i am the love of your life. and you will have no choice but to hunt me down and cause me great harm.

but never mind that, i am going to talk about said phone call now!

i was called by someone who refused to give me his name or location or any information at all, except that he was not mat... i was therefore forced to call him "toby" and spend the entirety of the conversation like this:

"are you bob? fred? henry? bill? george peppard?"

"say 'about'. no say it... i want to see if you're canadian."

"i think i have a hangnail."

"my back hurts."

yes... i know... it's fascinating isn't it?

this means i am getting beautifuller.

also, wassup with those old navy commercials? don't they know that morgan fairchild chick is creepy?

ooo... *heebie jeebies*

previous sups: 3 2 1

it's just... i don't know why.

let us review some reasons why i may be excited:

1. still able to touch foot to forehead despite months without yoga.
2. lunatic is going on vacation... thank elvis!!
3. free babysitting this weekend... hooray!
4. look really cute today.
5. new moisturizer working great.

it is now 5:00pm and i have been up for a whole FOUR HOURS! *whew*... i must be tired by now.

but in other news, i have come to realize that chicken nuggets are simply a vehicle for cucumber-ranch dressing... i am considering removing the chicken nugget from this equation all together.

isn't that cool?

actually i spent most of that time in bed thinking, "i sure wish somebody would make me some tea" and "i wish somebody would get me some tylenol" and "somebody should be patting my head."

i think i might need to invest in an oompa loompa.

wait. what was my point?

oh yeah. i'm fucking hot! and my head feels like it's full of sand. hot sand. and phlegm.

my boobs are a beacon to the eyes of some men. and sometimes, those men think that they are being sly and that you can't see that they're peeking at your boobs, but you CAN see, because you are not stupid.

my boobies are also hand-traps. for boys. with gropey hands. but they're not really gropey, they just accidentally groped because (a) they were putting their hand around you, and (b) your hooters were in the way.

and most amazingly! my knockers make boys stupid!

man, this is SO cool!

goodbye kinky ends-of-hair! ta-ta frizz-ease-that-doesn't-really-ease-frizz! toodles citre-shine anti-frizz hair polisher! i don't need you anymore!

i know... i could celebrate this all day, but, moving on...

much to everyone's shock and dismay, jennifer has joined a gym (i know! i'm the most horrified of all). and starting this weekend, jennifer will be "working out".

the words "working out" are in quotations because jennifer's idea of "working out" will probably mostly just consist of her walking on a treadmill and watching dr. phil. but, at the same time! and that's hard!

oh my god! what has happened to me? i'm almost ((shudder))... normal.

but on the upside, people keep asking me if i'm ok, and then they buy me halloween peanut m&m's and call me puddin' head.

and that's my favoritest nickname ever.

at first i said, "ha ha! look at how goofy i am! i'm so funny!"

but at closer inspection, i think that's just my normal face.

---

el bastardo vs. la wench
good times.

aren't i lovely? ok now, tell me that i'm lovely, or i'll kick you in the 'nards.

they're like communion wafers except smaller and berrier and not-at-all-associated-with-religion!

mmm. delicious... sorta.

but anyway, today i was thinking about sheila e... yeah, so? you wanna make something of it, funky chunks?

and i remember back when i was 12 and i thought she was the coolest thing ever. but now i remember the dancing behind the snare drum, and i'm not so sure anymore.

also - HELLO TOBY!

---

boyless update: still boyless. still bored as bored as freaking crackers.

i had chicken flautas for lunch. and, oh my god, their crunchiness was very pointy and i almost stabbed myself on the back of the throat.

fucking crispy tortillas.

but in other news, i know how to spell "fellatio" correctly... GO ME!

but if you did that i'd have to punch you. and then it wouldn't have been worth it... would it, you bastard?!

i just got propositioned outside my coffee shop. OH MY GOD!

according to larry, i am really sexy, and i have to know that. and i am worth $400 for 10 minutes of "looking" at me.

looking at me doing what?

wait! what was i thinking?! ... i should've gotten his phone number!

and then i took a swig of yesterdays coffee... BLEH!!!

this is bruce lee's tombstone.

these are pretty colored leaves.

this is my favorite picture of the child.

this is him with his dumbass mother after a horrible hair-coloring incident.

this is what i look like when i'm scared shitless.

and this is where the dollar bills go.

fucking idiot.

but anyway, just so you know, i am afrolicious... because tomorrow it is doleween! and i'm gonna go out and kick some ass and keep the ladies sat-is-fied!

right on, muthafuckah!

for example, this is me having a post-coital discussion:

"you should switch to boxers. solid print. or maybe with happy faces... but that's it. no silly paisley."

"what cologne is that? it's too strong. it hurts my head... stop wearing it. you should switch to something grapefruity."

"when are you gonna get your hair cut?"

"your shoes?" (sticks out tongue, inserts fingers, makes gagging noise)

"lesson no. 1: pull hair from the roots."

hahaha.... did ya buy that? did ya?

but, i have decided not to be so demanding.

bahaha... yearight.

but seriously. no, really this time... i've decided to give up on cooking. i'm going to grocery shop exclusively at the deli counter.

because salami is a meal all by itself.

you try to kiss a "clean shaven" man at about 10 o'clock at night and tell me how much you like that, sistah!

i just wanted to suck face, not exfoliate!

also jennifer likes boys with no hair on their heads! because jennifer likes shiny things! mmm... shiiiiinnnyyy!

---

quick! buy me stuff! while there's still time!

but that's probably why those people like me, so i don't really feel all too bad about it.

anyway! i have decided i need a theme song. just like shaft. because, like shaft, i am a complicated man, and no one understands me but my woman. can you dig it?

but really, i'm too lazy to write a theme song myself... so, you do it. then send it to me here

*ahem*

i am worth $1,859,334.00, my friends are surprised that i have no tattoos and/or piercings, and apparently, i don't need no stinkin' boyfriend.

now i'm going to talk about you!

be the envy of all your friends. write my theme song! (see how i did that? i told you i was going to talk about you but i didn't really? i was talking about me? HAH! i'm so clever!)

if i pick your song, you'll get cookies! and not the kind that you just cut off the cookie dough log. the kind i purchase! all the way from my hometown! they're HAWAIIAN COOKIES!

oooh! ahh!

if they wrote "stay drunk!" or "stay obnoxious" or maybe "stay fucking cute as hell!" then i might have cause to believe them.

oh, and "it was nice 'having you' in physics"? in your dreams, sean! in your DREAMS! *

* because everybody wants me

---

whee! t minus 60 minutes before seeing saint peter!

for example:

"FERRRP"

"POOT!"

now scoot... and just like leroy, here...

get down with yo' bad self!

and when i was little, everytime we'd go to the airport, i used to run around eating them.

what the hell was up with that?

and in other shrubbery related news, the bushes outside my building smell like trix.

you know the problem with sparkly eyelids? it's real hard not to keep winking at yourself in all the reflective surfaces.

*blink blink* = *sparkly sparkly*

but still... stand back! i think i'm gonna blow!

oh. my. god.

why did nobody tell me that i am shiny? and that my eyes are too big for my (apparently) puny head?

this may explain the extra layer of fat around the bootie region.

now, if you'll excuse me... I have some very important sleeping to do.

ps. aren't my snowman gumdrops cute?!?!

let's see if it works on all of YOU!

MERRY BUY-JENNIFER-A-PDA-DAY!

ok. now i'm gonna go start cooking way too much food with which to send people into a diabetic coma.

*bows*

FEAR ME, people! FEAR ME!

of course, i don't know whether or not i should accept said palm pilot, as i think it perhaps comes with a string attached... to my pants!

ps. i can only remember a fax number when i am staring at the fax machine keypad. it doesn't work when i stare at the phone keypad... weird, eh?

oh, i tell ya, there ain't nothing like punching yourself in the eye to start your day off right... ahhh! refreshing!

---

and funnier still?

Which guy are you destined to have sex with?
brought to you by Quizilla

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!!!!

ok. i lie. i'm not really running in the stairwells... i'm kinda jogging down and walking up...

so what? i can still kick yur ass!

but anyway. i hurt. i'm sore. boo hoo.

yay.

but anyway. decisions, decisions...
a) stay home with the kid.
b) take the kid to day care go to work and phone molest satan.
well, gee this is hard.

ps. i'm so white, norwegians make fun of me.

pps. settle down, mon irritantes! i'm making it more "piehole" soon. a'ight?

so i hung out at the bread display so that he could keep eyeballing me.

and then i took off my coat, so he could get a load of the boobage.

and then i went and stood by the other bread, so he could get a load of the bootage.

and then i took extra-long strides when i walked past, so he could get a load of the leggage.

and then i smiled and winked at him and left.

... ponder... ponder... ponder...

so basically, what this means is... i'm pretty until you get to know my personality?

*bleeeeeech*

now this is the only way I can sit without causing sharp, mindpiercing back pain:

ahh. it is painfree... also, it is PRETTY!

thank me for my selfless deed.

now i leave you so that i can go pee. whee!

1. wear new stripey sweatpants to work.

2. call geriatric mark. must create time buffer between valentine's day and actual call. BUFFER! BUFFER!!

3. eat everything in the office made of cheese.

4. become bitter-angry almost-ex-wife by calling dickhead and telling him he "better fucking finish filling out your paperwork, asshole! your reluctance to is freaking out my potential boyfriend! and i'm gonna kick your ass!"

5. consider life as international WOman of mystery.

no wait. let me take that back. there was this one time i had to pee real bad so i ducked into a punk club

... and i'm wearin' a cardigan and sensible shoes.

i'm surprised nobody shanked me in the bathroom... WHICH DIDN'T HAVE DOORS ON THE STALLS, BY THE WAY!

---

now leave me alone so i can go watch joe millionaire.

step one: spray bleach on tile in the bathroom with no ventilation.

step two: stay in bathroom.

voila! hairless nostrils!

why... it all makes sense now.

all my brain cells are busy thinking about shoes and hair care products... duh!

---

a side note... my kid thinks that former wrestler chyna's name is VAGINA! ha ha! and i'm not going to correct him! ha ha ha!

in fact, i am drinking it right now! fresh from the room where people poo! in close proximity to the place pee goes!

AND IT IS REFRESHING! Ahhhhhh!

but when i am sick, i also brainstorm like a mo'fo.

mister pokey pants and i have decided to urge pharmaceutical companies to come out with adult flavored medications.

namely, whiskey flavored nyquil and irish cream theraflu.

to cappy:
"i think i'm dying."

to my favorite homosexual:
"i think i'm dying"

to saucy:
"i think i'm dying."

to lunatic:
"i think i'm dying."

to the full time booty wanting guy:
"i think i'm dying."

and in other important news, i like those squishy whoppers better than the regular whoppers. i think they should sell them separately.

except for today. because i am dying... or i'm just a big baby.

---

and for your amusement, here are some things heard 'round the office this morning:

"all my holes should be the same size!"

"we have a loose associate."

"i want to carry around a big poop in a bag."

"when you cry? i laugh. HA HA!"

"i hate you."

But he's, like, 12 so what does he know?

Squat! SQUAT, I say! Go play with your Legos and send me a real doctor! STAT!

---

Look! I am capitalizing! Whee! It's... so... LIBERATING!

50% Eyeball
25% Mouth
20% Misc. face, and
5% BIG HUGE ZIT!

Some people died and left me stuff. I am an heiress. The end.

PS. All that planning is going to come in handy.

FORUMLISCIOUS!

And my boobies are HUUUUUGE. And my shirt cannot contain the boobage! CAN NOT CONTAIN!!

The buttons are straining... And the seam at my shoulders is down around my armpits... And I've popped open about 18 times...

Stand back! This blouse is gonna blow!

KER-PLEWY!

Well for starters, I am going to:

1. Demand everyone call me "Punkin".
2. Enunciate and talk through my teeth, 'ala Mrs. Thurston Howell III.
3. Walk like I have a stick up my ass.

---

Boss: I'm going to the store, want me to pick anything up for you?

Jennifer: TAMPONS!

---

Jennifer: I'm going to start wearing a tiara and a sash.

Captain Poopypants: And a wand?

Jennifer: No. I'm an heiress not a fairy!

Also, I broke my foot last night! And it hurts! It hurts! I am in excrutiating pain!

Ahhh... Does it get any better than this?

Also, I would like to announce that I am, in fact, the BEST girlfriend in the WHOLE WORLD!

Wussup with that shit?

This new shampoo was NOT a good investment. NOT! GOOD!

Boobs! Look at the boobs!

And the pants are white and the socks are beige! Ba ha ha!

I can't believe I'm outside where people can, like, see me... Eee! I must be insane!

PS. Roach is my new best friend... See what sending boobie shots gets ya? Get's ya a New Best Friend!

And hopefully some beef jerky.

I would like to thank my paternal DNA, without which I would not be the boobage I am today. Also, I would like to thank my mother for forcing me to wear a bra. And lastly, I would like to thank the fine, fine people of Olympus and Heineken.

Drinky drinky? Clicky clicky!

Hey, don't look at me like that. Beer is a whole food!

Also... Yay for working tipsy!

PS. They should make more room for boobage between the tables and the bench seats. I demand boobage room!

BOOBAGE!

So, today marks the first day I've ever been cheeeecked out by a bull dyke... Go me.

And in other news... If I stand in the sun, you can see right through my shirt. Eeek!

OK, so anyway... I've been thinking about babies alot. And how cute they are. And how much I want to eat their baby feet. And their big baby foreheads. And how much I want to smell their big baby heads.

Don't be afraid! I'm not procreating or anything... I'm just thinking of how I can influence my friends so that they get baby fever and MAKE ME A BABY TO PLAY WITH!

This is an ingenius plan.

---

You've feared it all your life. A Banner Critics with no rules. No regulations. No restraint.

CELEBRATE!

The Mommy: You didn't pull it out, did you?

Me: What am I? 90? Of course I pulled it out.

Mommy: Don't do that! 5 more will grow in it's place.

Me: Oh really. Is that how follicles work? I pull out the white one and the others are all "Oh my God! She pulled out Fred!"

Mommy: No no no.

Me: So what happens if I pull out a regular hair? Do I get 5 more regular ones in it's place? ... Hey wait. This might explain my eyebrows.

I'm a princess dammit!

So instead I've been sitting around in the shade wearing flip flops and a toga, drinking 5 gallons of water, and wondering just how many popsicles I can eat before I just blow the fuck up.

... And I blame all of you.

Stop distracting me with all your irresistible updating! I can't read and answer the phone at the same time! Who do you think I am? Superman?

I don't wear combat boots with skirts, or an obscene amount of eyeliner... Hey, I don't even have problems relating to straight men!

And still? 90% of my friends are gay men. And if you remove women and men that I've slept with/made out with/felt up, that figure jumps up to 100%. 100% gay male friends! ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!

Why me!? WHY! WHY!? WHHHYYYY!?!?!

1. During an office meeting, you reach down your shirt and adjust your boob.

2. Nipple talk... Example: "Dude! I'm freezing! Look at my nipples! LOOK AT THEM!"

OK. I'll admit it... I have farmer's tan... Oh the shame! The humiliation! I can't take it anymore!

So, I put on some fake tanner... And wouldn't you know it? It's slightly less farmy. Although I smell like a french fry for some reason.

Maybe it was McDonald's brand tan?

A couple years ago, my mother and (sortof) step-father came up to visit me. And since they are friends with my boss (feel my pain), they stayed in the corporate penthouse located above my office (feel my pain again).

And they would always come downstairs to talk to me during the work day... And usually in their pajamas... Which ain't nothing when I tell you what the step-father did next!

The step-father came downstairs... into my place of work... in... GET THIS! His UNDERWEAR! Yes people... My friends, my boss, our clients... We all got to see him in his underpants. Hooray! My co-workers get to see my step-father in his skivvies! Yippee! I'm so happy! I am seething with pride!

It's farking hot. So hot, I can't wear anything except a sarong! I'm so sarongy, I discovered I'm way flabbier than I had previously thought... Seriously! There's stuff, like, shaking down there.

Where's the taut! I want the taut!

As a result, I will actually be doing all the exercising that I have been claiming to do. And I will be adjusting my diet to include less fat, and less carbs... Or maybe just less fat. Because if you remove corn tortillas from my life? I will cry.

1. Whack teeth with water bottle when attempt to drink.
2. Cannot navigate ass to toilet seat properly. Must attempt toilet-sit twice.
3. Trip over sarong.
4. Accidentally drew on face with pen when answering phone.
5. Applied lotion to arm. Forgot to rub it in.

Gah! OUT OF ALTOIDS! OUT OF ALTOIDS! This is a horrible horrible day!

The only way it could get worse is if I were out of eye drops... But, ahh! I am smart enough to leave one bottle in the medicine cabinet at work, one in my bag, one in my desk, and one back-up in the linen closet.

It's only sparkly white, moist eyeballs for me! Because I'm special.

I knew I shouldn't have eaten that huge head-sized sandwich for lunch... DAMN YOU, DELICIOUS CHICKEN CLUB SANDWICH! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!

But in other news, I am going clothes shopping today. With my big sandwich bloated booty. Oh yay! Fat clothes!

And in other more sinister news, My Favorite Homosexual has returned from a visit with his family, where he spent his time untangling the pendulous nards of elderly relatives.

BLECH! Isn't that the most revolting thing you've ever heard!? Eww!! But wait! It's even grosser! Because there was talk of viagra! EWWW! Pendulous nards and old people and VIAGRA!

Excuse me while I go toss my chicken club sandwich.

I have got mystery bruises all over my entire body! WTF? Am I in Fight Club?

Anyway, did you know that I'm an old, old hag? Yes! I am! And I will tell you how I know.

Every morning, I use SEVEN different soaps, facial cleansers, exfoliating beads, toners, moisturizers, and anti-wrinkle creams. My face is like one big mineral deposit.

That's how us hags like it.

Reasons for me to kill myself today (in fancy list format):

1. Just caught self saying on the phone "Mmmbye bye!"
2. Somehow managed to become office technical support. I do not know how to fix it, OK?! LEAVE ME ALONE!
3. Burnt roof of mouth eating soup at lunch.
4. Need to clean out closet, really, really bad.
5. Out of beer.

Bah! The label on my pants is chafing my buttocks! Chafing! The buttular region! Eee!

Dammit! I knew I should've worn underwear.

This just in... After placing office post-it over pointy pants label, Jennifer stops whining about her buttocks. Hallelujah! All hail the post-it!

There is a serious flaw in my post-it plan.

Because, dude... Walking out of the bathroom at a bar with a post-it flying out of your pant leg is just not attractive at all.

Also, it is suspicious and weird.

I immasculate short men!

Garrrrrrrrrrr! With my taller-than-them-ness! RRRRrrr! And my ability to beat them at arm wrestling! Grrr! But mostly, with my EVIL EVIL EYE!

"I pity the foo' that wrestles wit' me!"

I don't understand the size of my own head.

Apparently, it's ENORMOUS! Why else would I whack myself in the face with the medicine cabinet door? Again? For, like, the fourth time?

I'll tell you why. BECAUSE MY HEAD IS HUGE!

But in other news, I saw The Manly Carpenter again this morning while crossing the street, and man does he ever look good in a hard hat.

I just hope he didn't notice my inordinately large head.

Because I know that you all want to see The Powerful and Almighty Boobies! And by "you all" I mean, the perverts.

Behold! The power of cleave!

Tonight? I got so excited while playing Trivial Pursuit, that I broke a futon... But, hey! There was a Law & Order related question! And, besides, I KNOW EVERYTHING!

Jumping up and down and screaming is expected, right? Is it my fault the futon was in the way?

I once professed my love to someone I didn't even know because they walked in the house carrying a case of beer.

Do you think that makes me easy?

I've been spending way too much time at work on the phone... I am officially incapable of flirting any more. My flirt level is at empty. No flirty! None. Nada. Zero. Zip... I am completely flirted out!

Aaaaah! It's, like, Armageddon! Run for your lives!

But in other news! The Seattle Crap Museum has new crap! Please welcome The $15 Futon.

"Hello! I am very very hard and uncomfortable!"

Good grief, my eyeballs are dry! See, thats the problem with working in front of a computer all day long... I keep forgetting to blink!

And now I must leave you. But not without sharing with you these wise words from some drunk guy on the street last night:

"Downtown is a buttload of streets, motherfucker!"

Muahahaha! I'm more evil than Roach

* The city's building department

I am all alone at work. All alone... I can't believe they left me here all by myself! Eee! And with so much photocopying equipment around! It's time to photocopy my face! Again.

But before I go do that... I will tell you 3 things about me that make me look like I'm adventurous/retarded:

1. I've hiked across the crater of an active volcano. Which was active. As I was walking across it. You know, over the place where the lava comes out? Yeah. That's the place I was walking across.
2. This one time? I swam with sharks... But it wasn't on purpose! I'm not crazy!
3. And for Halloween this other time? I used scotch tape to hold my cavewoman costume together and then I went out with a bunch of horny, drunk teenaged boys.

I am a little concerned about my willingness to let strangers touch me... For example, if you walk up to me and grab my arm in the grocery store, I'll be all "Hey, how ya doin?"

Yup. Just come on over and feel me up. Apparently, I don't care.

And in other news, Satan is a very large aggravation! Get this... He wants me to do my job... Can you believe the nerve? Damned pushy big ass exacerbating tyrant! LEAVE ME BE!

There is nothing quite so disturbing as watching your boss dance.

Internal monologue: "Please. Stop. No... Not the hussle... Help... Me."

But anyway... Look at what happened to my bee sting!

Ewww! DISEASE!

Also of note. Dude! Check out my Popeye arm! Arr! I eats me spinach!

And now check out how good my aim with a camera is!

Wheeee! Jazz hands!

Pray tell, why is that I cannot resist sitting on this naugahyde chair buck naked every morning? ... Maybe I am partial to the waffle butt?

But anyway... Today I share with you a conversation had with the (then) 3 year old child of The Jackass.

3 year old: You're lovely.

Me: Oh, I know! How can you stand it?

3 year old: I'm going to marry you.

So there you have it people. One day, I am going to marry The Jackasses child... And, hey since I was on a roll that day, I decided to try my luck with another 3 year old.

Me: Will you be my boyfriend?

3 year old: *Scoff* Nooooooooooooooo!

Damn finicky children.

----

PS. Want a gen-u-ine Hawaiian postcard? Send me your mailing address, turkeys!

You know, sitting in an office all alone again, gets a girl to talking to herself in her head like this:

Me: Dude. You remember that date with that guy who looked all cute in the coffee shop and then when you went to dinner with him, he whipped out a notebook and started TAKING NOTES? Ha! What a maroon!

Me: I know! I remember thinking "OH MY GOD! He's taking dictation!" Was I being interviewed? Should I have brought references? Did I just date Helen Thomas?

Me: Hey, but that's nothing compared to the guy who kept on saying "Come on. You know you want it."

Me: And then claimed I didn't want to kiss him because I was afraid of how strongly I feel! HA HA! ... Yeah, it couldn't have been because he was CREEPY!

Me: And remember that time when you thought that guy was asking you out on a date, but he was actually offering you money for sex? Ha ha ha! You're stupid.

Me: Hey now... At least I wasn't obsessed with Joe Millionaire.

Me: WHICH IS COMING BACK! Eeee! Joe Millionaire 2! I'm so excited!

---

PS: Want a gen-u-ine Hawaiian postcard, you big turds? Send me your address. I swear! I mean it! This is your last chance to get in on the postcardy action! Unless you include tomorrow which will be your real actual last chance.

Last night I had a dream that I was being stalked by this guy I went to high school with. But it was OK, because I could fly, so everytime he stalked me I just fleeeew away.

Also there was something about inflatable life boats. And Mark Hammel was there. And I kept reorganizing my closet.

But anyway! THERE ARE SMILIES IN THE COMMENTS NOW! Oh how cute are they?

And this one is my favorite :pineapple:

Dude. My mother is convinced that I am gigantic. So convinced that she sent me home with these here pants...

Fat pants. Really really fat pants.

Notice the enormous enormousity. I swear I could fit my whole entire body in one leg hole and still have room for 24 pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream in there. And maybe some Oreos. And a few Big Macs.

And here is an actual pair of Jennifer-pants... Can you see a difference? Huh? Can you?

Well, according to my mother there is no difference. Why... How else could I accommodate for my HUGE GIGANTIC ass?

Note: Actual Jennifer-pants not actually that small. They just look that way next to the ENORMOUS FAT PANTS.

Despite claiming that "I'm so totally never, ever getting a cell phone" because "cell phones are for evil people", look what I went and got!

Pure Evil

And I am having zero fun with it so far. In fact, it's the scariest thing I've ever owned.

This one time? I was holding it in my hand? And it started making evil earpiercing beeping noises and shook violently. Causing me to have a massive heart attack.

Text messages scare the MOTHERFUCKING CRAP out of me.

My friends have commented that my eyebrows are always so well groomed... Well. They obviously haven't noticed my one unruly eyebrow.

Note that aside from an abnormally large forehead and big ass eyeballs, I have one completely normal eyebrow and one eyebrow with a bald spot right in the middle.

I don't know how that happened! Because, without all the tweezing and waxing, I am, in fact, Groucho Marx.

Why in all that eyebrow is the one bald spot right in the middle?

Augh!

I've been doing this thing with my hair every morning for the past few days... It's called "Fuck it! I cannot iron my hair ANY MORE! Aaaah!" and consists of me washing and blow-drying my hair as usual, but then just putting in a buttload of pomade, and leaving the house ... And gosh darn it, it's cuter than hell! It's, like, 8 inches wider than usual and crispy, but still... cu-ute!

The only problem is that EVERYTHING is sticking to my hair. I've become a human lint brush. Hell, I even found lettuce in there... And get this!

I ain't been eatin' no lettuce!

Eww!

I shouldn't be allowed to own a phone where the buttons are actually on the phone.

My big fat head keeps hanging up on people.

After years and years in chunky heeled shoes, I'm finally in a pair of skinny heels. And may I just say...

Holy shit, these things are hard to walk in!

It's like walking on fashionable stilts. I'm wobbling all over the place! I mean, really... You're talking to a girl who nearly broke her foot falling off the couch, can you imagine what I'm going to do to myself from this height?

I'm dead. I'm oh so very dead.

Well... I only fell down twice! Once in the middle of a crosswalk when I hooked my pantleg in my skinny heel, and once going up the stairs... And no falling on my face!

And, people? That's what I call success!

Now if I could just succeed in removing the plastic wrap on CD's... Then! Then my life would be complete!

Don't you love it when people come back into your life and almost immediately say to you "I forgot how good looking you are."

Man, those are my favorite people ever.

But anyway, in the midst of Horrifying Turn of Events Week I have to thank (and pity) Brenda for listening to me drone on and on about it. She may be far away, but in spirit, she's in Seattle patting my head.

And I'll thank my very best jerk of a friend, who despite the fact that I am capable of irritating him to the point where he puts his head in his hands and cries on the inside, is always there when I need him... I love you, you big lug. To the depths of my soul, I do.

... Err... This is starting to turn really sappy. I'm going to have to go over there and throw up now.

I can frighten off peeping toms with CO2 powered BB guns. I can chase thieves down the street in high heels. I can even take a punch like a big burly man. But can I see a phlobotomist without getting clammy hands?

Nevah!

And did you know? My veins carry almost no blood?

She had to do it THREE times! THREE! THREEEEEeeeeee! EEEeeeeeee! I'm getting nauseous all over again... You think I'm joking, don't you? But I'm totally not!

Everytime I bend my arm and I feel that cotton ball, I feel like I'm going to faint... Eeee! Cottonball!!

*thud*

1. Irritated.
2. A paper cut.
3. Freaked out by insulated copper pipes that kept floating past her second floor office window.
4. A coax cable.
5. Half a roast beef sandwich.
6. A phone call from her Pretend California Boyfriend.
7. Drunk.
8. Vivid daydreams in which she wishes there were such things as ice-cream delivery and comfortable shoes.
9. Lots of books!
10. A George Foreman grill! YAY! :clap:

1. Grinders are sandwiches designed to burn the roof of your mouth clean off!
2. I don't know what an assist is. Or what bench points are. Or whatever points... And why is there so much hugging in basketball?!
3. Lesbians are short.
4. When drunk, I will engage crazy people on the street in conversation... I am being fitted for my aluminum foil hat next week.
5. When I need to pee, I don't say anything else except for "PEE, PEE, PEE, PEE, PEE!"
6. I get very excited by UPS delivery notices.
7. I drink ALOT when I have a crisis.
8. Talking to me on the phone during said crisis is like having a conversation with a washing machine... Happy! Sad! Happy! Sad! Happy! Sad! Happy! Sad! Happy! WEEPING!
9. Knowing the lyrics to Menudo songs doesn't make you fluent in Spanish.

Seriously! I mean it!

I will kill you with my murderously horrifying appearance! GARRRRRR!

The hair is limp, the skin is listless, I forgot to put on mascara, I'm wearing a freakin' cardigan and I look like somebody punched me in both my eyes.

MARRY ME!

Phew. Crisis averted. I guess it was all worth getting stabbed by a phloblotomist. Phlobotonist. Phloblablamist. Phloblomo. PHLOBOTONIST!

Jeez! That's harder than saying rurur. Ru-ral. RURAL!

Anyway! I received presents yesterday! Yay!

Now I can learn how to torture my sister (In lieu of sister, I will use Golfwidow) and can boogie all night to the complete 5-disc Pure Disco collection.

Flash light! Flash light! Flash light! Ha da da dee da hada hada da da...

OH MY GOD! I just told my father off on the phone!

I told him he was a jackass for beating the shit out of my brother and I with belts, and 2x4's, and hangers, and fists. And I asked him if he got off on punching his daughter in the face, or holding a knife to the neck of a 5-year-old little boy.

But I told him my favorite was when he pretended to kill himself in front of me. But that police chase that resulted in my baby brother jumping from the truck? That runs a close second.

I even told him I remembered the time he made my little (and I stress "little") brother and I walk around in broken glass... To which he responded... "You remember that?"

Is that what child abusers think? If they beat them while they're little, they'll forget? Is that why they pick on children?

But best of all, I told him not to come up to Seattle to see me and I told him never to call me ever again.

YAAAAAAAHOOOOO!

Who knew it would feel so good to make someone else feel so bad?

Let's look at my baby pictures! Yay for scanners!

But then I tired of looking like a lesbian, and instead went for...

Groucho Marx.

But that kind of minimalism wouldn't last long.

And now for fun... Here's a picture I found of my baby. Isn't he the cutest?

Cutie pie

Dudes. I just consumed my first ever Starbucks Peppermint Mocha... And I'm scheduled for my angioplasty later this afternoon.

Huy.

And on top of the heart disease, I fucked up my own hair last night.

Please remind me that I'm not a Barbie head... I can't just rip off my head and replace it with another Barbie head when I chop all the hair off.

My pants! They keep sliding down! Arg! And I know it's not that I've lost weight, what with all the recent boozing...

You know what I think it is? I think my ass slipperyness has spread to the hips.

Ack!

All day today, I have been feeling THE IMPENDING SENSE OF DOOM!

This can only mean bad things. It always means bad things. Or at least it means bad things everytime I feel The Impending Sense of Doom and then something bad happens, and when nothing happens, I just forget about it.

Very plausible, actually.

But it's bad this time... My hands were shaking so much at lunch and I couldn't eat my Pho! The noodles just kept falling off my chopsticks. OH THE HUMANITY!

Last night I had a dream that I was pregnant, and I kept wandering around the house screaming, "Midwife?!? Midwife?!? What are we? Hippies? I don't want no stinkin' midwife! Get me chocolate!"

HA HA!

Even in my dreams, I'm so... ME.

I'm one of those people who can't tell their left from their right... I mean it. Literally.

So if we're in a car, and you ask me where you should turn, I'll have this conversation with myself at every intersection... "Now, what hand do I write with?"

And sometimes I still mess up.

So either let me just point, or get used to going around in circles.

Did you know that you can escape a good hard ass kicking by just carrying around a cup of tea and screaming, "HOT TEA! HOT TEA!" And they'll just, like, totally leave you alone?

This information will serve you well, grasshopper.

PS. I would kill you for the zucca gelato from Gelatiamo. Yes I would.

It's like pumpkin pie except it's ice cream! Did you hear me? PUMPKIN PIE IN ICE CREAM FORM! Ahh. Heaven.

Today, I got my first haircut in, oh I don't know... A year? Two? And it was done by someone who isn't me, drunk, and in the bathroom mirror with a pair of childproof scizzors.

Oh the anxiety! You'd think I was going in for an anal probe... I mean, what if he cut it all off? What if he made fun of my ghetto haircut? For Christ's sake, what if I came out looking like Ted Koppel? Aaaah!

Instead I came out looking like me except with a significantly less fucked up haircut. *Phew*

Now, I would like to state for the record that I pledge to never again attempt to cut my own hair. No matter how much vodka I have in my system. And no matter how much I want to avoid all the small talk.

(Why do I have to talk anyway? Just wash my hair, cut it, and push me out the door, will you?)

Saturday night, my stepfather called and when I picked up the phone he said, "Huh? You're home? I thought for sure you'd be out with some hot guy."

First off, eww! My stepfather said "hot guy". Blech!

Secondly, going out with a different guy every night is so 2002.

And lastly, even smart-mouthed, dirty-minded party girls need breaks from swinging from the chandeliers... It's hard on the triceps, you know.

Besides. I know he's actually concerned that living with The Gays in Capitol Hill is going to turn me into a lesbian... Now, isn't that the silliest thing you ever heard?

We keep the lesbians in the suburbs. Where they belong... Silly stepfather.

When I tell people that I'm going to stay over at their house, eat their food, and make them cart my sorry no-driving ass around, and they say "And how long will we be graced with the Princess?", I know they truly understand me.

It's a good thing too. It's hard to understand the random conversation... And the deep-seated fear of manual labor. And the inability to remain uninjured. And why their friends have to see me in my underwear and/or pajamas and/or with weeds in my hair.

(They were cute weeds, ok?)

Since my proclaiming "Hello manic-depressives! Entertain me!" went over so well last night, I think I'm going to start using that to greet all my friends from now on.

And possibly my boss.

And definately my mother.

I am very concerned. Very, very concerned! I am... gulp... ALL IN LOVE WITH THE BABIES!

I just can't get enough of the babies! Every baby I passed this morning had to deal with me making doe eyed cooing noises. And going, "Boo boo boop! Woogie woogie woo!," at their tiny baby faces... And smelling their little baby heads.

Yes, that's right. You heard me... I'm smelling the heads of strangers babies.

Oh no.

I already HAVE a baby, dammit... And he'll be 8 in 8 days... Motherfucking EIGHT! Jesus Christ. I'm old.

There's a tin of Christmas cookies in the office this morning... Well, there was a tin of cookies in the office this morning. Until I went and ate FIVE of them.

Waaaaaaay too much powdered sugar and green frosting, waaaaaay too early in the morning.

Barf.

Alright. I found a word that disturbs me way more than the word "yummy". It makes my skin crawl, my eyes roll back in my head, and hurts my poor little lilly white soul.

PREGGO.

It's preg-NANT. Preg-NANT! Not -GO! What is this? Spaghetti sauce?

Stop creeping me out.

My boobs feel HUGE! I don't remember having this much trouble sitting at a table. Or crossing my arms. (Hah! That's totally not going to happen). Or knocking shit over using only the power of my rack.

WTF? Who asked Santa for my bigger boobs? Huh? Was it you?

No, no... It must've been Yvonne.

Now go on and try to tell me that I'm not the Royal Princess of Free Shit.

This significantly-larger-than-the-previous-free-TV TV has been brought to me by a very special Lunatic and a couple of construction workers.

How exactly do you break it to your mother and stepfather that you're going on a pricey vacation to New Zealand, but you ain't got no plans to pay them back for anything?

... And that you want them to pay for your connecting flight in Hawaii with their frequent flier miles?

Hmm... I think I'm going to try guilt first. And plan B can be crying.

I've noticed that everytime one of my girlfriends says something obscene, that they'll turn to me and say, "I learned that from you."

You see, I'm to blame for everyone's potty mouth!

Ah, so this is my life's work!

In celebration of finding my life's work, I will eat all the chocolates in the office. Go me!

1. The Child.
   Proof: While the child claims that I am not the boss of him, once overheard him tell a babysitter "You're not the boss of me! My MOM is the boss of me!"

2. My Pretend California Boyfriend.
   Proof: I have in the past, and will continue to, convince him not to have sex with women he wants to have sex with. Ha ha! I'm so mean!

3. Geriatric Mark.
   Proof: Just the other day, I said "OBEY ME!" and he said, "alright, alright, I'm obeying."

4. Jackass.
   Proof: This one time? I poked him in the arm repeatedly, and he said, "knock it off," and I totally didn't knock it off. And then he beat me up.
   Hey wait. That's not proof!!

5. My Friend Suki
   Proof: Suki once put me in charge of her love life... This was quite possibly the stupidest decision ever, but still. Me? Boss!

I'm working on being the boss of YOU next. Yes. You heard me. YOU!

Well... I just got a surprise visit from the cunnilingus fairy... Whoa. I totally shouldn't call my boyfriend a fairy... And I totally shouldn't call my boyfriend "my boyfriend". That totally wigs me out, man.

WIG! I'm WIGGING!

What the hell was I going to talk about again? Oh yes... I was going to talk about ME. Because this is "the ME show on the ME channel, starring ME."*

... Ahem... Let's begin.

I fell down in my bathroom trying to get my pants on. Sex makes me uncoordinated... Otherwise, I'm totally coordinated.

Right?

* This quote pilfered from Myra. I'm a stealer, I am!

You'll never guess how I've been celebrating New Years Eve... Yes. That's right, people. With a FOUR HOUR nap.

Ahhhhh... It's finally happened. I am my grandpa.

Apparently? I'm allergic to capers... Yes. CAPERS! Can you believe it? Freakin' capers!

That's right folks... There'll be no more retro mid-late 1970's hors d'oeurves for me! This is now a caper free zone.

And in related news... I can't feel my lips.

And in more related news... Antihistimines make me sleep like a log. 14 hours yesterday! Holy shit! I slept my face off! *

And in totally unrelated news... Check out how huge my head looks in this picture. It's a doosy!

* Homage to Golfy.

But it does appear that I have finally found a use for my mother's fat pants... Their use being humiliating the hell out of me while I sneak down to the laundry room. Discreetly... Hence the discreet hot pink socks.

Oh, I feel so pretty!

At breakfast this morning, this couple stood behind me hanging all over each other and hugging and making gross cooing sounds... Eww! Barf!

But more alarming is the fact that I am having a horrible hair day. You see, I have not just one, not two... But THREE cowlicks. One which resides at my hairline, and the other two at the back of my head, that if left untreated, make me look like I'm growing horns.

Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want you one-cowlicked motherfuckers... I'll poke your eyes out with my horns.

---

If you're up on your Japanese superstitions, you will know that this means that I am three times more rotten than one-cowlicked motherfuckers.

ABSURD! I'm a freakin' angel! :angel:

Today I IM'ed a friend of mine I haven't seen in a while, and I asked him how things were in the BOOBIES!

Hah! Silly me! He lives in the boonies, not the boobies!

From my horoscope today. "With Venus, the planet of charisma, converging with capricious, freedom-loving Uranus..."

Bahahahaha! LOVING URANUS! Ha ha ha ha hahahaa!

* Skim said it. I just blatantly stole it.

A little known fact about me is that I know everything... Yes, it's true. No really!

And to prove it, I will be giving you, the little people, the opportunity to ask me a question, and I will answer it. Correctly. Because I know everything.

Be astounded!

Do you know what this is?

It's $144.63 and 30 minutes in the downtown Seattle Ross Dress for Less... All hail the Cheap Bastard! (That would be me.)

So far, only one of my friends have ever dared enter The Ross with me... The rest of them are afraid or horrified that I would ever shop in A ROSS! (Gasp!)

Those weenies.

Yeah, it's a little creepy and the alley outside REEKS of pee. And sure, it's really hard not to burst out laughing when they call over the loudspeaker "Loquisha, to the checkstand. Loquisha." *

But seriously... FIVE DOLLAR PANTS! Cha-ching!

* Actual quote from actual shopping trip to actual Seattle downtown Ross.

"WHERE HAS SHE GONE?! Is she dead? Did that telemarketer make good on his threat to beat the shit out of her? Woe is me! Where is Jennifer!!"

That's exactly what you were thinking, right?

Fear not! I'm not dead! I'm just overworked, overtired, overpaid, and so very much not gettin' any.

Not that I can't get any, mind you. I mean, I did get a marriage proposal the other day on the street... I tell ya! The hobos? They love me.

Other people that have the hots for me:
1. The manager at the grocery store... He wants me.
2. The father of a schoolmate of The Child... Wants me.
3. Ron Cribb... Wants me, just doesn't know it yet.

And there's more. Believe you me, there are MANY MANY MORE. I mean, have you met me? I'm irresistible.

Me: Whee! I'm as happy as pants!

Tool: Happy as pants? What the hell is that?

Me: Real happy. Real, REAL happy... You know. Like pants.

Tool: ... What?

Sheesh. Can't a girl just make up expressions that don't make sense and have her friends just, like, nod or something?

WHY ARE THEY ALWAYS CHALLENGING ME?

And on another note...

Check it out... This fucker's trying to punch my future husband, Ron Cribb, in the head! Can you believe it?! What an ass!

Do you know what my dermatologist wants to do to this wee sweet little face next week?

That's right, people! She wants to biopsy my face!

Do you hear that? She wants to take a knife and dig a big hole in the middle of my face... MY FACE!! Gah!!

Boy, am I excited.

I see you're all very concerned that I'm going to get stabbed in my cute widdle face next week... I SEE HOW YOU ARE! Bastards.

But that's alright, you jerks. Because my clients love me so much they stop by the office, at 9 o'clock at night, to bring me a box of these here teeny tiny, cute as buttons, trial-size desserts.

Mmmm... Tiny tiramisu.

What is it about working a 12-hour day that makes people try to make me a fatty?

... Tomorrow? I'm trying for pork chops.

I've been eating like a hippie all weekend... Soy milk, fresh organic produce, soy cheese, edamame, vegetarian breakfast sausage... I swear, if you cut me open, soybeans would come out.

If I don't watch it, I'm going to end up smelling like a vegan. (No offense, vegans... but seriously, pee-yew.)

Hmm... I just noticed that when I meet new people, I totally manipulate the conversation so that the only topic of conversation is ME. And pretty much the only person talking is ME.

Because it is all about me, no?

I was thinking about trying to be more interested in other people, and, say, ask them questions that don't involve me, or what they think about me... But why break with tradition?

So if you're wondering what meeting me is like, it's pretty much like this...

You know what drives me up the wall?

When there's a gang of wall switches, and all the lights are switched on, but the switches are all not in the same position! Ack!

They need to be all UP or all DOWN. Not one up, one down! That's just crazy!

Now go fix your light switches, before I go insane.

Sheesh! You mean you haven't read all bazillion entries? ... I'm so disappointed.

Enter Frankenstein.

Err... Before you click on that, you should know that I'm not wearing makeup. It's VERY SCARY! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!

And my nose looks really crooked. What's up with that? But my eyebrow is properly combed-over, so it's all good.

But I'll tell you what... EVERYBODY NEEDS TO STOP STARING AT MY BANDAID! It's making me uncomfortable.

It has been brought to my attention that Piehole is all boob talk, and no boob action.

So, I give you... Boob Action.

Happy?

Sphinxy asks, I answer.

Favorite Color: Currently, blue.
Favorite Flower: Non-variegated tulips.
Favorite Scent: Grapefruit/man.
Favorite Cocktail: Cape Cod... I'm a big sissy girl.
Favorite Wine (if any): Blech!
Favorite Soda/Drink: Coffee. Cream, no sugar.
Favorite Food: Japanese
Favorite Restaurant: Oh, Restaurant Sibu, why must you be so far?
Favorite Treat: Chocolate dipped macadamia nut shortbread
Favorite Candy: Peanut butter M&M's
Favorite Number: 11-07-1971
Favorite day of the year: International Jennifer Day!
Favorite Season: Winter
Favorite Holiday: International Jennifer Day!
Favorite Game (video/board): Monopoly

I like how I go home for lunch, because there are miniature Nutter Butters there, but when I get there, there are none!

Now hold on a minute!?!

Who's been eating all my Nutter Butters? Because I totally know I didn't eat them all, you bastards!

Oh wait...

Never mind.

Geriatric Mark is growing a beard.

In response to that, I would like to say... Rowr.

And if you are reading this, GERIATRIC MARK... Because I totally know you are... Please pay no attention to the gross exaggerations in The Hole... I swear I'm not crazy! Honest!

PS. Rowr.

Have you ever had a dream where you hooked up with someone that in real life totally grosses you out?

I had that dream last night. And I'm still walking around all grossed out!

Gah! :barf:

And, for the record, I can never look at that man again without thinking "Eww! I saw you dream naked!"

According to my doctor, I lost a little weight over the last few weeks. Hmm. Weird... But, go me! For doing almost nothing and miraculously losing 6 pounds.

Unfortunately, I seem to have lost it all in the ass.

Great... Now I'm well on my way to carrying on the family tradition of toppling over. (See figure 1.0, otherwise known as how Big Crazy Mommy looks from the side.)

PS. A-ha! The template malfunction was the sitemeter's fault! I knew I shouldn't have blamed myself... I mean, when is it ever my fault?

PSS. The answer is NEVER.

What is it with me and my need to call everybody "dude"?

For example, Lunatic called me one bazillion times yesterday, and I totally had to stop myself from saying, "Dude! Why for all the calling?!?"

Instead I said, "Oh gawd. Not you again."

Or maybe I just said, "What now, you big pain?!"

Or maybe it was, "No, it's no problem. Really."

Yep. That last one.

Dudes... Do you realize how hard it is to walk straight the day after a nooner with Geriatric Mark?

I can't believe I'm pulling it off! God! I deserve a frickin' Oscar! I'm incredible!

... I really am, you know. Really!

I'm totally tripping all over the place. And I could blame it on the uneven floor at the office, but we all know the truth.

It's my shoes fault.

Shoes. Shoeses. Shoes'. Shoes. Shoes... God that word looks stupid.

As evidenced by a friend of mine saying to me, "I'm sorry, but I can't hear a word you're saying when you're wearing a see-thru shirt."

Sheesh... I was only trying to make it a happy Valentine's Day.

I'm a few hundred dollars richer today, for no good reason. And since everybody else in the local yuppie community seems to get manicures, and even Geriatric Mark, my fancy metrosexual boyfriend, gets pedicures... Why not, I said. I'm metrosexual! Sortof. In a vagina kind of way.

Well, I'll tell you why not... Koreans are HARSH on virgin cuticles.

And I don't know what to do with myself anymore! Just look at my fingernails! I don't want to touch anything! I mean, just look at them! They're all pretty! And they're all the same shape!

It's totally weirding me out!!

Oooh. I won a Golden Cone! I rock! (And so does everybody that voted for ME ME ME!)

But I don't just rock at this. I have also won:

1. The 3rd grade reading award. For reading the most books ever, because I'm a total and complete knob, and have been since the 3rd grade.
2. Numerous paddling competitions. The canoe kind. Not the dominatrix kind... Although my dominatrix paddling would knock your socks off too.
3. Every single architectural design competition I entered while in college. Because I'm a total and complete knob with fantastic presentation skills.
4. The hearts of many... Aww. Don't look at me like that. You know I've won your heart. Hell, some of you have already proposed. And you're not even hobos!

And I also have another talent for which I have not won an award. But let's just say that I'm flufftastic.

:wink:

I don't know what's going on, but lately, whenever I'm gettin' all sassymouthed, my head starts whippin' around, and I start wagging my index finger all over the place.

Just who do I think I am?

And why am I whipping my head around, you ask? Because I'm at work... Working. You know, on a holiday!

What a rip off.

1. Sky dive.
2. Dazzle people with my kung fu prowess.
3. Grow hair to waist length without getting sick and freaking tired of getting my hair caught in other peoples armpits, and end up in the bathroom one night, drunk and frustrated, and cut it all off.
4. Two words… Three. Way.
   Ha ha! I’m totally kidding … Pretty much.
5. Bungee jump the Kawarau Bridge.
6. And the Ledge.
7. And the Pipeline.
8. And the Nevis.
9. Beat :jackass: at luge racing without resorting to cheating.
10. Dude. The fiords! They need a'hikin'!

I'll be the first to admit that being 50% eyeball sometimes comes in handy. Like when you've gotten yourself into a little trouble with the boyfriend and he can't be mad because you're looking at him with "those big baby doe eyes".

Sucker.

But there are drawbacks.

Like lint.

And my eyeballs ability to catch it.

All the time!

All the time with the lint!

Bah!!

I just got another marriage proposal today... Actually, it was less like a proposal, and more like a demand. But whatever. It still counts!

But then, who can blame complete strangers for falling in love with me when I'm so forking cute today? Not that I'm not always cute. Because I am. Except for those days when I wake up looking like a turd. Which is seldom. Because I'm usually cute... Did I convince you yet?

But today, I'm extra cute... Hence the marriage demand... Because I cannot stop grinning like a crazy person. Hee! And that's a cute look... You know, in an insane kind of way.

Do you think it's wrong to consider buying a DVD player just because I heard that Law & Order, Law & Order - SVU, and Law & Order - CI are all coming out on DVD?

Oh my God!!!! I'm all warm and fuzzy on the inside! I'm practically rolling around on the ground in ecstacy! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!

LAW & ORDER WHENEVER I WANT IT!!?!?!!!! *Thud*

Err ... We may need to stage an intervention.

PS. Dude! Check it out! We have mockwear... I know somebody asked for it. Or hinted about it. Or maybe I just made that up in my head. But, whatever! MOCKWEAR! Ha ha! I sure is clever.

Today I am gloating in the fact that I now, officially, make more money than :mommy:. And she knows it! Muahaaha!

Big Crazy: What? I had to work for THIRTY YEARS to make that kind of money!

Me: (Whipping head around) Well, ha ha HA HA HA!

Sure. It looks like I'm a little bitter. Vindictive. Sassyfied... But that's what she gets for telling the 7 year old me, the me with vivid dreams of one day becoming Miss America, that I couldn't ever be Miss America because Miss America is tall, and white, and good at math.

Good at math, my ass.

Hey! Vanessa Williams! Quick! What's the square root of 5425697?

At lunch today, :homo: said, "Look at you, with your sexy new haircut!"

Well, yeah. I know I'm totally sexy, but I didn't get a new haircut... He was probably just confused because it wasn't all frizzy like normal.

(Seriously. If you have weird combination fine/thick/frizzy/straight/wavy/really tangly hair like me? Instantly Gratified.)

Also! I am so going to go see Return of the King with a stranger! And it's totally not freaking my ass out! And get this... There will be sushi involved, people! SUSHI!

And booze!

Hmm... The more I think about it, the more it looks like I'm taking her out on a date... HOW CUTE! We're going on a date, Joce!

Ha ha! Now I can finally satisfy that bisexual curiousity.

Me: I'm wearing The Shirt today.

Suki: Is it your milkshake shirt?

Me: I don't know. Let me see if it brings all the boys to the yard.

But in other news, I went to see my face-stabbing doctor this morning and she whipped out a torch and frozed my face off.

And there I was all set for a creme brulee. Dammit.

See? I'm alive. I told you Jocie wouldn't kill me.

We had a loverly time. With a good deal of alcohol, sashimi, and Viggo Mortensen. And free popcorn. And many trips to the bathroom in the middle of the movie. And lots of goofy laughing... And no molestation.

But that's not what I'll be telling :geriatricmark:. I mean, come on. He's so totally my bitch now.

I tell you, he had better start getting used to hearing "Beef jerky! And NOW!" Because he's going to be hearing it A LOT!

1. Wake up super late on Super Draw One Kajillion Lines Day.
2. Realize that have been taking only 1/3rd of the dose of big girl calcium suppliments everyday for the past forever.
   Damn it! The osteoporosis is going to get me!
3. Realize that have to somehow pull THREE base floor plans, ONE site plan, and 134547715 clarification drawings out of ass by Friday.
   Fat chance, buster.
4. Bang head repeatedly on table.
5. Cry.

It's a good thing I have Dyke Fu tonight. Which I won't be missing despite Uber Buttload of Crap To Do Day because :lunatic: is now afraid of me and my amateurish, uncoordinated, kung fu ways.

I have oodles of pent up aggressions I need to release on small, unsuspecting lesbians.

Prepare for punchy punchy!

I need girlfriends.

You know the kind. That if (theoretically) I got dumped by my boyfriend (like that could ever happen) they'd come over to my house and attempt to bake me cookies. But fail miserably because we will have eaten all the batter way before the oven pre-heated.

But noooooooo. I get stuck with friend boys. Who at the slightest hint of my irritation will take me out and get me bloody stinking drunk.

Not that that doesn't work... but it doesn't include cookie dough. And that is just unacceptable.

Am I dreaming? Are girly girl friends a myth? Will anyone ever be over to my house to eat batter with me? Will I ever be free of the ravages of conversations like this:

Toby*: (buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp)

Me: Ewwwww!

Toby: What?

Me: Gross!

Toby: That's part of my charm.

Me: That's not part of your charm. You have no charm. You are charm-free.

Toby: (buuuuuuuuurp)

You know how when you're out to eat and you look over, and there's this couple that can't stop touching each other? And they make stupid faces at each other when they smile? And sometimes they'll coo stupid things like, "No! You're the cutest thing ever!"

Well... That's me. I'm the one making people barf.

Now, while I've always made stupid faces and even though I don't think I've said anything too retarded, it's very likely that I've just suppressed the memory. And worse? Ever since Mark has that beard thing going on, I keep petting him, like he's a puppy.

Oh, I make myself vomit!

But I'm not stopping. I'm just warning you. You know, in case you find yourself in the same restaurant as me.

Poor you.

I am NOT in a good way. I have NOT been sleeping well, I have NOT been eating well, I have NOT had a weekend off all month, I have NOT gone to the David Horsey exhibit I had been so dying to see.

... The last thing you want to do is cut in front of me in line at the grocery store.

HELLO! My sanity is very fragile! And I think I know kung fu! And when I scream "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE FUCKING DOING, BITCH!?!?!" at you, I will deliver it in a very high-pitched voice.

Ahh... Psychosis sometimes comes in so handy.

When I woke up this morning, it looked all sunny outside. In fact, it still is sunny outside. So I wore a shirt that's so thin it's practically transparent. Actually it is transparent seeing it's made entirely of lace.. And now I'M FREEZING MY KAHOOTIES OFF!

Damn deceiving weather.

My arms have pre-bruising and I hurt from the ass down from squatting like a monkey all last night... Seriously, how do monkeys do it? My ass-sides hurt like the dickens!

And still, I am one happy ass-pained monkey. And why, you ask?

I slept a whole 7 hours last night... Uninterrupted. No late night phone calls! No irritating noises from the dude who lives upstairs and keeps dropping shit on his floor! No 42 trips to the bathroom to pee!

Oh hallelujah!

And I'm taking the day off work! Eeeee! A DAY OFF!

Now maybe I won't go all crazy insane and beat the crap out of people who cut in front of me in line at Safeway.

I love you. Really, I do. But, there is just something very unhealthy about my obsession with making myself smell like sparkly baked goods.

I'm sorry. I have to do it.

It's over. I'm breaking up with you, Sephora.

(At least until next payday.)

In reviewing the last dozen or so entries on Piehole, I noted that I threaten violence in a good dozen or so of them.

Man, I'm punchy.

What's become of me? I've always been so mild mannered! Even tempered! Heck, I'm so passive I almost pass for dead.

And now, I threaten to punch people all the live long day.

Nice.

It should be noted that I have not actually punched anyone since I was 13. Although I have yelled at a few. And chased one down the street. And then there was that one time I called that asshole on the street a fucking son-of-a-bitch cocksucking asshole motherfucker and followed him until he ran away, but he totally asked for it.

Now what was I saying again? Oh yeah... I'm so mild mannered.