Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The Art of Taking Too Much Time

i love the word plethora.

it’s fun to say.

plethora. plethora.

ok, now it just sounds dirty. i think i ruined the word a little.

life is full of little misses.

perhaps you missed your calling in life.

eh, don't worry about missing that one, those calls usually come in collect.

perhaps you missed the point, until it poked your eye out.

and you might need that eye, for beauty, beholding, and crap.

perhaps you missed your stop.

nothing can really help you there.

might as well man up about it.

man up, as if you can suddenly put balls on and deal with a situation better.

it would seem to me they would just get in the way.

boyz II men has a new album out. as they are no longer boys, perhaps they should change their name and be called men II death?

pushing me will not get you home any faster.

next stop. back off.

i would rather not stop in the name of love.

i will, however stop in the name of steve.

i don’t know a steve, but i enjoy the name.

wait, wait, wait! how do i not know a steve? this is actually upsetting me now. surely i know a steve. holy crap. i can’t think of a steve i know!

this will be my mission for the next week.

did you paper cut yourself?

bad moods come in threes.

i’ve always been more of an odd number person.

perhaps this explains my love of blackjack.

i like naming inanimate objects.

i named my friend’s kidney stone, joan.

and not because it rhymed, it just seemed like a good name for a kidney stone.

this week in jenna theatre – jenna is on the phone for her job, trying to convince people to use their internet access instead of the printed version which they normally receive, she places a call to an older distinguished professor from california, whom shall be called steve. she has made her pitch and is waiting to hear his reply.
steve- what is going green? i don’t understand going green.
jenna – oh, it’s just a saying. basically it’s just means trying to take care of the environment, you know, going green!
steve – i don’t understand. you want me to go green?
jenna – well, i mean, you can do what you want, we’re just letting you know there’s another option if you’re interested. we can still send you the paper copy if you’d like.
steve – tree hugger bullshit?
jenna – no, just trying to…
steve - are you from the democratic party?
jenna – umm, no..i’m from **place of work**
steve – those damn democrats keep calling me. wanting me to vote for the gays.
jenna – oh. ok. well, i’m not calling from them…
steve – i like the gays, don’t get me wrong. i’m not one of those homophobes or anything.
jenna – right. (silence) so, i’ll just send you the information on paper then…

i really hate the phone.

i sound like a 4 year old.

here’s hoping you and your's have a happy holiday, don’t eat too much, but please, whatever you do….try to drink too much.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

The Art of Acting Against the Grain

i feel depressingly optimistic.

i am a victim of joy today. i hope it will be gone by tomorrow.

sometimes tequila seems like the answer.

but you usually forget the question.

golf groupies, you say?


there's a fine line between bad ass and dumbass.

but in the end, you're still an ass.

at least you have an ass.

half the people i know are trying to lose their ass, while the other half is trying to get an ass.

the other few are dating an ass, while some are busy being an ass.

i hardly notice anyone's ass, but i always notice when someone's being an ass.

somethings the gym just can't fix.

maybe you should try to work on yourself.

i hate when people say, "i'm going to work on myself."

like you're some kind of robot that can be tinkered with in the shop.

i guess you could always outsource. it seems to work for everyone else.

forget a christmas tree, nothing says happy holidays like a christmas shed.

i need a disposable income.

or an income.

fun fact, you can fall off a stationary bike.

when in doubt, enjoy the chocolate.

champagne is an evil, snarky little drink, with such a cute name.

most people are not to be missed.

most people have a few screws missing.

most people feel like they missed the boat.

but what they fail to realize is that water transportation is highly unreliable. they would have done better to walk.

while i strive to be a happy person, i do enjoy a taste of a deliciously bad mood. there's something quite savory about being annoyed at everything.

it makes the mind work at a different speed.

i like to lay all my thoughts on the ground and roll around in them.

makes for an entertaining sunday afternoon.

nothing makes a hot subway ride go by faster than slow track signals and a screaming baby.

just another day.

this week in jenna theatre - jenna is going to a open air market in union square. as she is about to enter the market, a man approaches her, thinking it is a petition for something, jenna stops.
man - do you live in ny?
jenna - yes.
man - where do you get your hair cut? (looks away distracted)
jenna - uh my sister does it.
man – (looking around – laughing)
jenna – umm…ok…
man – how much does she charge?
jenna – well, nothing, it’s free.
man - you should cheat on your sister (laughs)
jenna - ummm
man – (singing under his breath)
jenna – i’m good, but thanks.
man - no really. i mean, you can go to a top salon, that’s why we’re out here.
jenna – i’m ok. i don’t need all that.
man – no! listen (laughs) you can get a 100 haircut, a facial, an eyebrow wax, for nothing next to nothing! it’s ridiculous. you'll definitely want to do this.
jenna - uh no thanks, i'm really poor and my sister does my hair and...
man - (looking away) free obama condom for when things get hard
jenna - what?
man – it’s only 60 bucks.
jenna – you want me to buy a 60 dollar obama condom?
man – haha, no i was kidding. 60 for the haircut, the facial, the waxing, the massage, i mean, come on!
jenna - umm i'm really poor and i have to go now, but thanks…
man – how much would you pay?
jenna – umm, for a haircut? nothing, my hair cuts are FREE.
man – bitch.

ahh, nothing in the world quite puts you in the christmas spirit like a few hours in new york city.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The Art of Trying to Think on an Empty Stomach

my mind feels rusty.

perhaps it's broken, again.

people often make fun of me for my unnatural hatred of umbrellas. for me, it all boils down to the logistics.

people suddenly go into this zone where they have no concept of personal space.

it's like people with strollers.

i don't care that you have a kid. you having a kid does not take precedence over my shins.

the same is true with umbrellas. just because you want to be dry, doesn't mean i want to be poked in the eye with a metal rod.

in the bathroom at my doctors office there is a sign that says "please save urine sample."


your kid is still staring at me while asking for cheese. it is kind of freaking me out.

in the waiting room at my doctors office, the selection of magazines is typical, "fit pregnancy", "mom and baby", "cooking light", "diabetic living", "health", and then there's "handy man."

one of these things is not like the other.

and none of these things is like me.

but that’s what makes the money.

i’m surprised i haven’t been kicked out of more places.

i hate when there are really awesome commercials for really stupid products. seems like a waste of creativity.

why do appointment times mean nothing to doctors?

i have shit to do.

why is my doctor wearing a bluetooth?

isn’t there a running joke that all guys who wear bluetooths are assholes? i wonder how people came to that conclusion. it seems like a gross generalization. and generally speaking, i’m not a fan of generalization.

gross or otherwise.

you can always tell the new conductors from the old subway conductors. the new ones are all so helpful, "ladies and gentlemen, at this stop you can catch the r,w,q, you can catch the bus that will take you across town in style, and if you go two blocks down from here, there is a great pizza place!"

the old conductors say "get the fuck off the train.”

this week in jenna theatre, we present a montage, in honor of jenna's second marathon that she ran this past sunday. what follows is a collection of conversations that jenna has had over the past couple of weeks.

co-worker -wow you’re running another marathon? how far is this one?
jenna - 26.2, they're all the same.

co-worker 2
- how far is this marathon?
jenna - well, this one is crazy, this one is 26.2 miles!
co-worker 2 - can't you run a shorter one?
jenna - you know, i really can't.

friend – you’ve inspired me. i ran a marathon this morning.
jenna - really? you ran a marathon this morning. before work?
friend - yup
jenna - how long did it take you?
friend - about 30 minutes.
jenna - wow that's...reallly fast...and how far did you go?
friend - 3 miles!

orthopedic - well, you need to stay off your ankle for awhile.
jenna - so no running? is the marathon out?
orthopedic - well, you can run once the swelling goes down. maybe start with a little marathon first.

right then.

you may be right, i may be crazy.

but maybe crazy is just a little bit of fun?

it's taking me awhile to get into the swing of things, but i'll be back. give me time.

and beer. give me beer….

let's blow this joint and go drunk ice-skating!

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

The Art of Acting Asinine in Aspen

i wish i wrote for a crime show. i would so use the line, "but sir, someone just threw a person at you."

drinking makes me grandiose.

i wish i was one of those people who could be content having nothing to do.

contentment is a step away from contemptment.

in fact, it’s not even a real word.

it requires too much energy to hate you.

i only hate you when i have nothing else to do.

so, i guess it's more a hobby of hate.

people always talk about what they do, like it's something to be interested in.

does it make me a bad person that i forgot what you said?

oh well, you'll forget me in a week anyways.

i'm hardly one to inspire feelings of lust and attachment. usually, disdain and disillusionment are my soup du jour.

and i'm ok with that.

i still don't understand people using speaker phone in crowded public places.

i don't think i like the term, “public places”. it makes me think of public bathrooms, which are never clean and always wet. or smelly.

i wonder if anyone actually poops at home anymore.

when i was a kid, i refused to poop at school.

i remember was i little, i once had to stay at a woman’s house who was watching me and a few other kids. one of the boys decided to poop on the floor, instead of wherever else the kid was supposed to poop. the lady was very angry and made the boy pick up the poop with his hands and put it in the toilet.

not sure how sanitary that was, but i'll tell you what, i never pooped at her house either.

i wonder if this memory has anything to do with my dislike of children…

every once in awhile, i get the urge to poop on the floor in the bathroom at work. i don't know why. there is something that tickles me about the thought of one of the well put-together women walking in and seeing my surprise.

speaking of pooping in public, i think i'm in a war with the cleaning lady at work.

i wish i had a cleaning lady at home, but there is something unsettling about having someone touch all your shit when you're not there.

there is something troubling about people touching your shit in general.


shit's funny.

i hate that i always do the right thing at completely the wrong time.

like the drunk man who dropped 20's all over the sidewalk while he was staggering down the street. i guess i'll never be a real new yorker, because i stopped him and helped him pick up his money and put it away.

i mean, we've all been there.

things i hate, loud headphones. things i love, when construction workers wear loud headphones and the whole train can hear him listening to the new miley cyrus song.

this week in jenna theatre – jenna is at her work answering the phones.
jenna - hello *workplace*
lady - hello?
jenna - hello.
lady - hello? is this a real person?
jenna - last i checked! what can i do for you?
lady - i wanted to ask if i can email you a question.
jenna - um, well, you can...but you can ask the question to me now, if you want.
lady - oh, i can?
jenna - sure, why not?
lady - oh, thank you.
jenna - so what can i do for you.
lady - i have a question.
jenna - right. yes. ok.
lady – i got an email from you. i have to submit materials by december 1st, is this correct?
jenna - yup. i think it says it on the email right?
lady - right. it says december 1st is the deadline.
jenna - right.
lady - so is it?
jenna – the deadline? yes....
lady - (sounding relieved) ok thank you! you've been such a big help!
jenna - no problem....

eh, we’ve all been there…right?

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

The Art of Petting Perfect Pigeons

you gotta knock this one out of the parking lot.

i need to move...or buy some new shoes.

do you ever wonder if the choices you make are wrong, or just unpopular?

sometimes i think i'm a victim of both.

most the time, i don’t think it matters, you see with women it’s all about the hair, with men, it’s all about the penises.

do you have any questions for me?

i got hit on by a homeless man with no arms. he asked to hold my hand.

it is really hard to ignore someone who isn't around to be ignored.

pay attention to me so i can blow you off, damn it.

i should have asked first, but was this tennis ball down john’s pants?

the cleaning lady left cleaning supplies on my desk. i think she's trying to tell me something.

i'm going to leave poop on her desk.

lights are on but nobody’s home.

not that anybody would ever go there anyways.

and in this environmentally friendly climate, i’m not surprised.

turn off the damn lights.

if there was really only 4 minutes to save the world, i’m afraid i would not entrust that to madonna and justin timberlake, despite their success as multi-million dollar performers.

non-drinkers threaten my existence.

sometimes i think i only exist to tell you how wrong you really are.

it’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it.

at least while the job market is in such a state of distress.

beggars can’t be choosy.

even thought they often are. i had a half a subway sandwich that i didn’t want anymore. nothing was wrong with it, just decided i was done with subway for the next week or so. a man was sitting outside with a sign that say he just wanted some food or a train ticket home. i didn’t have a train ticket, but i had some food, so i offered him my sub. he took it and asked, “is there mayo on this?” i replied a little light mayo, but not that much. he handed it back to me and said he didn’t like mayo, but thanks anyway.

i’m done with passive aggressive people for this week. instead of looking for the deeper meaning, i shall take what you say at face value.

let this be a warning to you all.

this week in jenna theatre, jenna and her tall friend alex, who is a bit over 6’7”, are pulling into a parking spot at trader joes to grab some organic groceries. a man and his girlfriend parked a few spots down, but clearly thought that jenna and alex’s parking spot should have been their parking spot.
ponytail guy – (to girlfriend) dude, i’m gunna fuck that guy up. that was our fucking spot.
girlfriend – it’s fine. we have a good spot.
ponytail guy – no. that was our spot! i’m gunna go smash all the windows.
girlfriend – honey, he’s a lot bigger than you, you need to calm down.
ponytail guy – it doesn’t matter, i could take him.
girlfriend – you really need to keep your voice down, i don’t think you could take him, he’s huge.
ponytail guy - i could fucking take him.
jenna – (turning around to the guy) dude, really? you're wearing a shirt with mr. spock on it.

later, we cut in front of him at the checkout line.

we didn’t really, but wouldn’t that have been a better ending?

i guess it goes to show, you can’t always change the outcome, unless you’re a writer, and then you can have whatever reality you choose to exist in.

in my reality this week, i am drinking a bottle of dom perignon after winning my first tony award for acting and my first emmy award for writing…

and i might as well throw in winning 1st place in the philadelphia marathon…

dream big! (and by dream big, I’m really just dreaming for the dom perignon

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Art of Buying a Used Death Bed

i find myself confused by overly cheerful people.

dear cranky tourist. if you don't like our subways, get the fuck off. i'd like a seat, you crabby ass munch.

if i'm getting a paper cut on my face from your newspaper, then perhaps you are sitting a little too close.

my mouth gets me into more trouble than it can get me out of.

you have once chance to punctuate correctly. you have fucked it up.

by talking to me in that tone, you know you are taking your life into your own hands.

all hands on deck, it’s gunna be a bumpy ride.

you are hands down the worst at understanding me.

put your hands down, i'm not robbing you.

don't bite the hand that robs the cradle.

or rocks the cradle?

the best scam in the world was pet rocks. really. pet rocks? there is nothing pet-like about rocks.

they're fucking rocks.

did anyone ever become emotionally scarred by having a pet rock? did some poor child grow up giving love and affection to something that would never be able to love her back. and then, did she take those lessons of life and love into adulthood, having a string of emotionally stunted relationships that echo of emptiness and chocolate ice cream? all because of a pet rock.

get your rocks off my front porch.

maybe we should stop biting people in general, what with rabies and swine flu.

i'm not asking you to remember me, i'm asking you to stop calling me.

i'm pretty hard to forget.

wait, what were we talking about?

i wish i could select my memory.

when things don't work like they're supposed to, i usually take the blame.

“who's to blame? sue's to blame!”

there will always be someone to blame.

in my office, that someone is me.

blaming someone is simply a technique to avoid dealing with the issue. in the end, does it even matter? the problem still exists and you are still a little prick.

oh, and for the record, nothing is ever my fault.

i'm not surprised by your behavior anymore, in fact, i take bets on it. i never loose.

this week in jenna theatre - on halloween night, taking the packed subway home, a man sits next to jenna on the train while jenna is attempting to read her magazine.
man - happy halloween
jenna - thanks, happy halloween.
man - it's the night of fools (silence) festival of fools. halloweeeeen. i was going to dress up this year as something awesome.
jenna - oh yeah, why didn't you?
man - i did.
jenna - oh, already?
man - no, now.
jenna - you're dressed up now?
man - yup!
jenna - what are you supposed to be?
man - i dressed up as myself. i'm awesome. you want my number?
jenna - (laughing) ummm no thanks. But that was funny.
man - (a few stops later) i'm a christian, so that's why i don't do halloween. is that why you're not dressed up?
jenna - (trying to read) no, just busy. i don't think halloween has anything to do with that. it's just for fun.
man - nope, it's the devil. the devil will get you if you wear a costume because he gets confused.
jenna - interesting.
man - i think you need to learn more, can i have your number? maybe we can go to church together.
jenna - you should have quit while you were ahead.

best comment of the night by a drunk asshole on canal street : "i'm wearing a condom tonight, because i'm going dressed as a dick" my response, "why bother with the condom?"

what’s wrong with you, did you have a pet rock as a child?

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Art of Desperate Dining Decisions

i think my cats are using me for my money.

i pretend i don't hear indecent proposals.

sometimes love is blind.

and deaf.

window cleaning is yet another causality of the recession.

my building is surrounded by a cloud today. makes me feel like i'm in a star wars movie.

how is it that old ladies all smell exactly the same?

what company is out there making old lady perfume?

when doing the hokey pokey it is helpful if your shoes remain on and not flying at the head of the woman in the wheelchair.

some people are just meant to be alcoholics.

do i drink because i write or do i write because i drink?

at my friend’s wedding this weekend, we encountered an overzealous wedding planner. aside from the many odd and rude things she did, such as taking the mirror out of the bridal suite because she was afraid the girls would try to do their make-up, she also tried to run a very tight ship. when the bride’s family wanted to wait for the grandmother to arrive, the woman said, “no, i’m sorry, but come 3:30, this wedding is happening, whether she’s here or not. sorry grandma.”

the woman also coached me down the aisle by screaming at me, “walk slow, eyes ahead, walk slow, keep that chin up, smile, smile, smile!!!”

i was not aware i had entered a beauty pageant.

i love a hitchhiking horse.

i once rode a bike around for about an hour without realizing the kick stand was down.

it is amazing how many people stick their noses where they don't belong.

i have maybe picked my nose twice in the last year. guess how many times i've been caught by someone.

when asking for grant money, perhaps you should spell check your proposal?

just a thought.

my mind has shut off for the day. it's running on reserve.

some people can't wait to tell you bad news.

it's not a lack of self confidence, it's a lack of personal grooming.

i don't lie, i assist the truth.

i only wear mascara when it rains.

this week in jenna threatre, jenna and her friend are having a post lunch chat over IM.
buffyvslayer: ugh, i ate too much burger king.
i want to puke
jennaisawkward: oh no
buffyvslayer: if the guy fixing my kitchen wasn't here i would definitely be puking
but i don’t want him to hear me
jennaisawkward: right...
go outside
buffyvslayer: it's raining.
how do anorexics puke silently?
life's oldest mystery
jennaisawkward: wait, doesn't your bathroom have a fan?
buffyvslayer: i could go upstairs and puke in that bathroom
jennaisawkward: do it quietly, it's very easy to do, trust me, after many days of being hung
over at work, i have perfected the art.
buffyvslayer: i have tried---many times
so loud
jennaisawkward: you just have to relax
and focus on breathing
buffyvslayer: or i could just stop going to burger king
jennaisawkward: or that...

oh, and in other news, it still doesn’t work when you like a girl to insult her.

buying drinks usually has a much better result.

i always tell people to not take me so seriously and that they clearly don't get my sarcasm.

they clearly still don't.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Art of Short, Sweet, and Lacking a Point

i'd be a nurse, but i really hate sick people.

i'm not surprised, just over waxed.

have you ever done a walk of shame past a group of 4th graders?

“mommy, why doesn’t she have any panties on?”

i don't know what they could possibly sell in a church gift shop.

you never think about the impact of gravity until a pair of scissors fall on your leg.

i now know what burnt x-mas smells like.

why do they put an ‘X’ in for the first part of the word christmas? if they are trying to replace the ‘christ’ part, shouldn’t they use a 't'?

i find your lack of faith disturbing. i also find your lack of pants disturbing.

yankee fans are like republicans. they never shut the fuck up about anything.

see, i’m an equal opportunity offender. ain’t no discrimination here.

i hate sentences that begin with, i love you but…

am i the only one who doesn't like to have their butt rubbed against a strangers butt? after riding the subway this morning, i'm not so sure.

i’m not cheap, i’m under paid.

you never said you missed me. i guess you never did.

when people say dreams come true, this concerns me. i have some pretty fucked up dreams.

there was one dream that involved a burning upside down airplane and some midget horses with fangs.

do men wear shorts in 40 degree weather to indicate masculinity and sexual prowess? to me, it indicates stupidity, and lack of judgment. also, possible shrinkage.

i often excuse myself from conversations i am not part of.

does anything need to be done up that high?

my anxiety has anxiety.

this week in jenna theatre, jenna is talking to a friend about great tv shows.
friend - i really love that show dexter
jenna - i can't really watch too much of it, but what i've seen looks great. that actor from six feet under is awesome.
friend – yea, he’s pretty amazing. it’s weird, but there is something about that character i identify with.
jenna - you identify with dexter?
friend - yeah...
jenna - well, there is something likable about him, but...
friend - no, it's more than that. i just feel a lot like him.
jenna – hmmm. you know he's a serial murderer, right?
friend - well not that part…
jenna - …and he lacks a lot of normal emotions
friend - not that part either…
jenna - then what part do you connect with?
friend - i don't know...our sisters look a lot alike

i need to rethink some of my relationships.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The Art of Awful Artwork

i have managed to sit backwards on the train twice, each time using different reasoning skills.

it stands to reason then, that the reason is my reasoning is flawed. but at one point it was correct.

just never in the way that made sense.

it is never velour track suit weather.

i can't think over your stuttering.

you have to fall down to stand up again.

if you're hot, it's not stalking.

don't make looking at leaves sound dirty, you leaf peepers. i feel dirty even writing it.

i like going on adventures as long as i know where i'm going.

it's just not as fun when the fortune cookie is correct.

i'll support your right for freedom of speech, if you'll support my right to ear plugs.

seriously, is your voice always like that? you might want to get that checked out.

i'm just sayin'.

i’m always just sayin’.

it is important to give as good as you get. otherwise, people might think you just don’t get it.

get lost?

stop asking so many questions. nobody thinks you are actually interested.

kick an ant.

(just not your aunt)

i need back-up cheese….STAT.

pick on someone your own size.

pick a side.

it's usually extra to sub a salad, instead of fries for a side. we don't want you to be healthy. it would make our choices seem wrong.

seeing balloons floating away in the sky makes me forlorn.

it’s a cliché because it’s true.

you take such good care of me. i'm hardly worth it.

i try not to get too attached to people, or things. they tend to break.

just because you don't understand me, doesn't make me wrong.

this week in jenna theatre, jenna is in the car with her friend x on the way to pick apples at an orchard. inspired by their plans, they have taken to discussing bad ass crops that they have seen in their travels.
x – in mississippi, i once went into a cotton field. it was pretty amazing to be surrounded by all that white.
jenna – that sounds awesome.
x –it was so soft, i was supprised how soft it was.
jenna - well, yes, it's cotton...cotton tends to be soft...
x – i thought had to weave it together.
jenna – yes, they do. then it's called a t-shirt...

yes, crops are bad ass.

there are some things money can't buy, for everything else, there's incredible debt that you will be paying off for years.

sometimes there are no words. thank god for that…

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

The Art of Simple Service Center Debates

i hate when people only offer advice after it’s too late.


i'm going to start offering unsolicited random advice and not offer any explanation.

always turn left.

are you really that bitter, or are you just jealous?

i am a mighty crab.

apparently, i lack good communication skills. i find this surprising as i'm pretty sure i communicate well enough to let people know to back the fuck off.

i usually achieve this by saying to them, back the fuck off.

there is an art to simplicity.

i had my hand out waiting for my ticket to dispense at the train station and someone handed me a quarter.

i would like a dollar please…maybe even one of those nifty 50s.

i like to follow the rules, but i will cross against the street against a do not walk sign with no remorse.

i find wind advisories unnecessary.

wind is kind of hard not to notice.

especially when it’s blowing.

it’s not my fault i do it better.

you say i'm competitive like it's a bad thing.

sometimes you win, sometimes the vodka wins. it's a risk i'm willing to take.

cell phones are designed for exhibitionists.

don't drink and type. you'll spend hours trying to figure out what the hell you wrote.

not that that has ever happened to me…

usually i’m utterly useless, but today i have reached new heights.

this calls for a celebration. but i’m not in the mood to plan anything, so you’ll have to set it up.

why is it when you tell people you have allergies, it always relates back to them and their allergies? or their friends allergies? or their cats allergies?

these are the same people who find ways to relate everything to a seinfeld episode. if i didn’t watch the episodes when they were on, why on earth would i want you to reenact them for me now?

a disappointing lunch can ruin your day.

consider my day ruined.

i’m getting sick of all these grain breads; we got 3 grain, 5 grain, 8 grain, 150 grain.

i hate all this bread-guilt.

it's not that I have a problem with being wrong; it's that i'm never wrong.

don’t have a fiber overdose on a road trip.

i can now say i have heard a grown man in a suit order a woo woo with a straight face.

this week in jenna theatre, while jenna is a the mets game waiting in line to buy a beer, some kids begin to try to talk to her after she cheers on a hit.
kid 1 – about time huh?
jenna – yeah. better late then never!
kid 2 – you look really familiar.
jenna – oh?
kid 2 – i think i know you. do you live in queens?
jenna – yea.
kid 2 – i thought so. i think you live near me.
jenna – huh, small world. (tries to go back to watching the game)
kid 1 – i love baseball. hot girls don’t normally like baseball. it’s pretty cool.
jenna – um well, uh…they’re missing out…
kid 2 – yeah girls at our school are pretty lame
kid 1 – can i get your number?
jenna – haha, i think i’m a little bit older than you think i am. and what are you guys, like 12?
kid 1 – well, i’m 14.
kid 2 – how old are you?
jenna – how old do i look?
kid 2 – 15?
jenna – haha, i’m a little older than that...(steps up to order her beer, and turns around to leave) thanks anyways guys…

whenever i hear someone shout “oh my god!” i automatically think someone is naked.

that's just how i roll.

ahhh, bread guilt strikes again.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The Art of Wanting to Wait 'til Wednesday

who doesn't have call waiting in this day and age? don’t you know i’m trying to call?

how is it possible that i refill the ice tray in the morning, only to return hours later to find one piece of ice remaining, thus forcing me to fill it again?

every. single. day.

i'm suspicious of anyone who claims to be a fan of math.

can you ride in the hov lane with a dog in the front seat?

hov lanes seem designed to destroy your self-esteem. you are being punished for not having friends.

isn’t that what the high-school cafeteria was for?

it’s hard to be edgy in a cardigan.

he who carries an umbrella, expects rain.

i wish life were like a baseball game.

can't start work just yet, rain-delay.

it's hard to turn down work when you need money.

it's hard to work when the best things in life are free.

i’d ask for my money back, but where would that get me?

oh, i'm sorry, is my limp offending you?

i shall limp in your face, you walking bastards.

i might grab a couple of kernels on my way back there.

kernels. not colonels.

it smells like crack in here. or cheerios.

i’m not complaining. i’m just making an observation.

how am i supposed to support someone, when the only support i’d like to give them is a hand to help them stand after i knock them the fuck out?

doubting thomas. doubting jenna.

i learned about toads this week.

am i supposed to be able to feel my feet?

wearing a trench coat makes me feel like i should be flashing someone.

i wore my glasses today at work. everyone commented on how smart i looked. and then they told me i looked like sarah palin. i feel confused by these remarks.

i put on my glasses and proceeded to walk directly into a trash can.

this was the highlight of my day.

sometimes i feel like my life is one gigantic product placement.

if you are not able to see patients in the time they are scheduled, then perhaps you should rethink your scheduling policy. 3 ½ hours is not a reasonable waiting time.

especially when all you are going to do is give me bad news.

this week, in jenna theatre - jenna is on the subway heading home after a long day of work. her head is pounding from staring at a computer screen all day and listening to people whistle around the office. she just wants a moment of peace. at the first stop, a child and his mother step on the train. no sooner do the doors close, the son begins screaming and running up and down the car. he comes over to jenna and grabs at her magazine, which she pulls away from his sticky hands. unhappy, he screams in her face, jumps on the seat next to her and starts stomping his thomas the tank sneakered feet and jumping up and down screaming some sort of song at the top of his lungs.
mother (to jenna) – isn’t he adorable?
jenna (to mother) - no.

the heart wants what the body can’t provide.

nothing is more disappointing than realizing that all you have accomplished is to fail with a rapid speed.

and you my friend have failed to cover up your penis.

i’m not complaining. i’m just making an observation.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

The Art of Smiling Sweetly to Swedish Fish

you never notice the way a toilet flushes until it doesn't.

i find the escalator depressing this morning.

moving slow is for the dead.

you are only capable of doing great things when you are asked not to.

sometimes people will tell you a story, no matter how hard you try to avoid hearing it.

hiding will not help.

even if you’re under your desk at work.

when choosing a hiding spot, make sure you have a plausible reason for being there, should you be found.

i wish i had the ability to grow my ears.

i can grow a chia pet.

sometimes being friends with you is like ripping off a band-aid. i know it's going to hurt, but i can't seem to stop looking at the wound.

i hate when people tell me i have a problem with drinking. i don’t have a problem with it.

the only people have problems with drinking are the people who don't do it right.

i miss number 2 pencils.

which is the ultimate act of cruelty? telling someone you saw a cockroach run behind their bed, or not telling them you saw a cockroach run behind their bed?

sometimes life is nothing but a box of screws.

you never know when you’re going to need power tools.

you honestly make the simplest thing seem like quantum physics.

lucky for you, i took a few classes back in the day.

i'm a friend of foe.

disney has made me have sympathy for subway rats.

it takes a certain type of person to shred documents.

i wish there was pie.

you should always wish for pie.

some people love when the sun shines in their room in the morning. i say fuck that shit sun, and i draw the curtains.

not like a sketch or anything.

do you want me to draw the curtains or draw the curtains?

the world may never know.

i used to want to be original growing up. then i changed my mind.

i wish i could change it back.

i can never seem to spare some change.

spare change can change your mind.

unless you're mine. then there is no room for error.

or a low bank account.

when i’m depressed, all my thoughts are in song lyric form.

saran wrap is my mortal enemy.

having bangs is like having a puppy that isn’t house broken.

i hate when i accomplish something extremely difficult and there is no one there to tell me how fucking awesome i am.

i usually try to gather a crowd and then do it again.

when you look at me that way, even my mind shutters.

no means no. yes also means no, when said with that inflection.

i hate when people are all noble and shit. this usually means i have to be too.

i'm a pretty secure person, until my computer asks me if i'm sure i want to do that action. i think i do? i don’t know. do i? fuck you windows.

what happened to the self-centered girl i know you to be?

you don’t tickle my fancy, but don’t take it personally. i’m not very ticklish.

i miss the good old days when all you needed to have fun was a t-bird.

this week in jenna theatre, jenna is at the front desk at her job answering the phones after lunch. a call comes in.
jenna – *name of the job has been removed*
man – hello there this is john johnson* (name has been changed, but it was just this ridiculous)
jenna – hello
man – hi. i’m interested in applying for a grant for this year.
jenna – ok, well our current application deadline has passed.
man – oh, yeah i saw it on the website.
jenna – yeah…
man - can i still apply?
jenna – not for this year’s competition
man – ok, but i didn’t apply.
jenna – right
man – well, let me tell you a little bit about myself and my idea….i am a world famous photographer and instead of wasting my time in fashion, i want to go and help children and society and pain and suffering and (he continues talking about some grandiose idea and his credentials as a photographer and artist….jenna tunes him out and begins playing bejeweled)
man – don’t you think this is exactly the kind of project your foundation would want to sponsor? doesn’t this sound like a brilliant idea?
jenna – yes! (jenna gets a high score in bejeweled!) yeah, no, it sounds great.
man – it would be a real shame for it not to get funding.
jenna – sure would
man – so, i can apply?
jenna – next year’s competition…

sometimes you knock and nobody is home.

sometimes you knock and someone answers the door in nothing but their underwear.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

The Art of Long Goodbyes with Short People


oh wait, i haven't started yet.

i have the unique ability to sound like a bitch when I'm trying to be humble.

i think technology is trying to fuck with my mind.

sometimes there is nothing to do in a day but count how many times your co-worker breathes through the mouth.

my manhattan building did a fire drill on 9/11. they couldn't wait a day?

sometimes i get so bored that i keep forgetting what words mean.

i still play that childhood game when walking to the subway, "don't step on a crack or you'll break your mothers back."

hopefully this does not directly effect my mother’s back.

oh well, i was never the favorite anyway.

everyone keeps telling me i'm soaking wet. well, it is raining outside.

ahhhh self medication. ain't it funny?

i find you to be a pathological liar.

but i could be lying.

why do people always say let sleeping dogs lie?

i say wake the bastards up.

but let the liars sleep. who needs that fucking nonsense on a monday morning?

sometimes i wish i was one of those people who look so put together. alas, i am not one of those people. i look like i rolled out of bed and fell into whatever was closest to me. if fact, i had a pair of underwear stuck to my jeans for about 5 subway stops today.

when it rains, you get wet.

just because you are in your car, doesn't mean i can't see you. please put your shirt on.

and consider pants.

i always catch the end of a crime.

it is a pretty awesome feeling to know you ruined someone's day by simply walking.

i have such power!

i try to have a zen approach to life.

some people do not enjoy the sounds of a bamboo flute early in the morning.

the words bimbo and bamboo are very close to each other.

in that regard, some people do not enjoy the sounds of a bimbo in the morning, either.

it is possible to fail and succeed at the same time. it will just give you a massive headache if you attempt to understand how, so take my word for it.

being physically fit is exhausting.

i'm not intimidated easily. i just prefer to quit.

did you know that it is possible to walk the same route every day and still get lost?

jenna theatre - at the movies, finally getting ready to watch harry potter, running slightly late, jenna decided to stop at the concession stand. there is one couple in front of her about to order.
woman - i'd like a large popcorn and a large diet pepsi.
concession dude - i'm sorry, we don't have any more diet soda.
woman - no diet soda?
concession dude - none
woman - about seltzer, do you have seltzer?
concession dude - of course we have seltzer.
woman - alright, i'll have one of those then, if you don't have any diet soda.
(transaction is completed, jenna's turn)
jenna - hi i'd like a medium popcorn and a large seltzer.
concession dude - we don't have a seltzer.
jenna - what?
concession dude - yeah, it's out, but we have pepsi, diet pepsi...
jenna - but you don't have seltzer.
concession dude - nope.
jenna - and you have diet pepsi.
concession dude - you got it
jenna - (stares blankly at him then walks away)

i have a great idea. let's bring a 4 year old to the late night showing of harry potter and let them run up and down the aisle and start crying and screaming for you while you make out with your partner in the back.

and you wonder why your child will decapitate birds.

i guess i should be more concerned about repeating myself, but you probably weren’t listening anyway.

i know i wasn't.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Art of Running Red Lights in Your Underwear

i can't tell if you're being funny or if you're being mean.

when i'm feeling self destructive, i like to buy cookie dough and a scale.

i cook best without a plan. maybe i should look at my life that way too.

it's no good swimming in the deep end.

tall people seem to really like tennis.

i keep mistaking that lady's arm for a fat baby.

curbs seem to exist simply for me to fall off.

it's an art. not a crime.

that is not amusing. and i laugh at everything.

someone asked me what kind of animal i thought i represented. i told them to fuck off or buy me a beer.

i have trouble meeting new people.

i can't decide if things just don't come easy to me, or if i'm clueless about things that are coming.

do you ever look for hidden cameras in the kitchen when you're going to take junk food out of the refrigerator?

the more you talk, the less I hear.

i hate how some people are capable of making you apologize for everything.

first donuts, now popcorn. are you trying to kill me?

sometimes i like to fart in a full elevator.

i hate the expression 'full of hot air.' isn't everyone full of hot air?

just once, i'd like to ride a hot streak to the top. why do i have to stop when the going gets good?

sometimes i feel like i'm choking on silence.

silence is the golden rule.

or is that play well with others?

i don't do very well with rules.

especially the ones i created to be broken.

silence is golden. i dislike gold. i like silver. silence is silver.

i love words you can roll your tongue around. anthropology. evolve. fucker.

no, i would not like to install the updates to my computer. i see an 'install now' button and a 'remind me later' button. how about a 'shut the fuck up and leave me alone' button?

this week in jenna theatre - location, security desk where jenna works. the character, a security guard, who jenna really should know the name of but can never remember, and will henceforth be named, ed.
ed - are you heading for lunch?
jenna - best time of the day (fumbling for key card)
ed - you always sneak out the back, i never see you
jenna - yeah, well, I'm sneaky that way.
ed - i eat lunch.
jenna - oh that's good.
ed - maybe one day we can eat lunch together?
jenna - oh. i don't think so.
ed - why not?
jenna - i don't really eat.
ed - you don't eat?
jenna - not really.
ed - but you're heading out for lunch.
jenna - uh, doctors appointment.
ed - oh. well, maybe we can go together one time?
jenna - to the doctor?
ed - sure.
jenna - ummm...ok, yeah, maybe.

if i didn't talk to strangers, my life would be pretty boring. sorry mom, you were wrong on that one.

i think some things should go without saying. i mean, i have never tried to smell your feet, perhaps you should stop trying to smell mine.

in the end, all i can say is i tried...

i tried every kind of beer there was...and still wanted more...

but i guess that's why they call me mellow yellow...

(ok, no one calls me mellow yellow)

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

The Art of Fighting a Fire Truck

but where are they selling the hot dogs?

there is an art about choosing a bathroom stall. watching women dodge in and out of stalls, looking for the perfect toilet, i wonder what people are looking for. i understand if something is on the seat, that's gross, but does toilet paper in the bowl somehow make the toilet unusable? you do know that people have used the toilet before you, even if there is no visible evidence, right?

well, sure there's a crib in the bathroom of a bar

pampers and patron.

should i tell people when i find their hair offensive?

i'm not sure you're a jeans and t-shirt girl if you wear high heels and pearls with them.

i have fought a fire truck and lost.

feelings are made for fighting.

i'm always falling into someone else's dreams.

swollen body parts freak me out.

i feel like it's the 21st century people, planes should not have propellers.

you're the damn computer, you mean to tell me firefox surprised you by randomly closing? you had nothing to do with it? are you two fighting?

tragedy is breaking the only beer bottle opener in the house.

sometimes it pays to discover, but mainly you just pay discover.

i was attacked by a curb.

i don't find satisfaction in delayed gratification. especially when plotting revenge.

it's a good thing i have great boobs, cuz i can't spell for shit.

this week in jenna theater, while walking from the F to the 7 train, a man approached jenna and attempted to have a conversation.
man- have you been to france
jenna - (taking out headphone) excuse me?
man - jesus loves you
jenna - thank you. (putting headphone back in)
man - (still talking and following close behind) i always try to help you. i always try to help you.
jenna - (taking headphone out)what?
man - you need to turn left, and go down the stairs.
jenna - excuse me?
man - why don't you listen to me? i sing. (starts singing random notes) jesus loves you pretty girl, walk to the left, and don't fall down.
jenna - ok, then.

i don't know what they say monkeys.

how is a size 7 shoe anywhere close to a size 11 shoe?

thank you, but i will not be trying them on.

people love to show me all their disgusting body things they have going on. i must be a magnet for that kind of thing.

i think a man pet me today on the subway.

are feather hats still in style?

i have seen the future and it doesn't look good. might as well drink while our livers still talk to us.

that's my plan anyway.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The Art of Making Friends with Fellow Failures

a lot of babies have been mocking me lately.

working out at a nyc gym, is like working out at the playboy mansion.

i feel like a fucking hobbit.

something about watching a blimp makes me hungry.

you see that baby over there? mocking me.

in twenty words or less, describe your most recent insect encounter.

i'm not a political person per se, but i find it so confusing that people are so proud of their absolute unwillingness to help out another human being.

quote of the day! the dental hygienist who is about to take some x rays, looks me up and down and says, in a voice that is filled with soft-spoken confusion, "you're NOT pregnant?!?"

in related news, i will no longer be eating.

call it what it is, you're only in it for the money.

call a spade a spade. but if it's a hatchet, you have to call it a weapon of mass destruction.

disney, why are you trying to ruin my life?

i enjoy allusions, however i hate illusionists.

hate is a strong word, but i like it that way. i do not tolerate weak words.

this week in jenna theatre - at the famous mets baseball game - jenna has been trying to cut back on carbs, alex has been trying to help.
alex - would u like a seltzer?
jenna - how about a beer?
alex - it's not on you diet.
jenna - well, i'm thirsty.
alex - how about a seltzer?
jenna - how about a beer?
alex - how about a seltzer?
jenna - sure....if it tastes like beer...

this is also a lesson in futility.

hey universe, what did i do to you?

it is a popular misconception that women have better penmanship than men.

people constantly disappoint. even the disappointing ones.

why is it so fucking hot? no. seriously.

whenever i wear flip flops, it feels like everyone is staring at my feet.

i have eyes you know.

you do not want to know what i would do for a klondike bar.

it takes a lot of confidence for a clothing store to call their pants, "perfect fit," especially when they don't know me.

sometimes i worry that you are going to try to kill me.

i cannot help but try to fix broken souls.

i'm thinking about becoming a hells angel.

why are you laughing?

i know you're shy, but it never hurts to say hi.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

The Art of Getting Too Old for this Shit

i was involved in a hit and run with a bee.

sometimes i hear people talking in the lunchroom, and i think it's amazing what people will talk about over tuna.

everything doesn't have to be about sex, everything is about sex.

there is some green shit in my pasta, and i ain't happy. and when mamma ain't happy, well, she's pretty damn crabby.

you can tell a lot about people by the way they behave on their birthday. for instance, there are some people who want everyone to know it's their birthday. they send out email reminder announcements, text you, call incessantly just to make sure you know it is their special day. and god forbid you don't call them in the morning to wish them a happy one - you might as well have stabbed them with a rusty fork.

i barely remember the date my sister was born, and i actually like her.

i barely remember the date i was born, and i'm me.

just because you don't want it to be true, doesn't mean it is.

breakfast is a terrible time to try to make small talk.

riding the subway is a lot like horseback riding. some people are very good at it, while others just bruise their balls.

i wish i knew another way to tell someone i'm not interested, other than to throw small utensils at their head.

i hate when my appliances try to get me drunk.

do you think it's real or fake?

the only people who like summer are people who don't actually have to commute to work. or work. or wear clothes.

make me my food. i'm hungry and i said no tomatoes.

i saw jesus yesterday, he was tipping 20%.

i hate tomatoes. hearing about all the ways you love to eat tomatoes will not make me suddenly love tomatoes. in fact, it makes me hate tomatoes a little bit more.

you should not wear a belly button ring if you are an outtie.

i wish to stab tomatoes in the face.

who brings people donuts besides evil, evil people?

i try to stand up for myself, but it's hard when i'm always falling down.

my new dentist asked if i was in any immediate pain. i said no, but i'm sure i will be.

this week in jenna theatre. the location, a charming bed and breakfast. the players, jenna and the innkeeper, ric. the scene takes place during a tour of the common area and the introduction of the fridge.
ric - and in here is the mini-fridge. we have soda, beer...please feel free to help yourself.
jenna - to the beer?
ric - sure, that's what it's there for.
jenna - i can just take the beer?
ric - yup, help yourself...
jenna - to the beer....?

happiness is getting something for nothing. maybe that's why crime pays so well.

and now, because it's my birthday, because it is as random as i am, i bring you...keyboard cat...

The Daily Show With Jon StewartMon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Daily/Colbert - Keyboard Cat
Daily Show
Full Episodes
Political HumorHealthcare Protests

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

The Art of Failing Fairy Tales and Foreign Females

that's about as useful as a siamese twin.

but why is it green? and other things you wish to never hear in a bathroom.

oh no, that beer's for breakfast! duh.

personal space is apparently at a premium. i might start farting smelly farts to get some room to breathe around here.

sometimes things don't work out like you imagined.

sometimes the things you imagine are fucked up.

(seriously, we've all be talking, have you thought about therapy?)

why do people find it necessary to talk in a southern hick accent when they eat bbq? i don't start talking in a chinese accent when i eat sweet and sour chicken.

i sweat inappropriately.

isn't the world harsh enough without having to add to this carnival ride?

all I want to do is drink the pudding, but i'll settle for a beer.

today on the 7 train heading home, a man entered the subway wearing a speedo and a swim cap. while there are several seats open in the train, he chooses the one right next to me and asks me about my swimming career, the one i do not have, incidentally. meanwhile, his junk is trying to break free from the hammock in which he has placed it, and i know, like all things, this can only end badly.

i'm happy you're in the past, i just wish you'd stay there.

fucking dinosaurs.

i still am not sure why i paid 30 dollars to look at gigantic stuffed animals.

sometimes you encounter something that is worth the pain, like chocolate milkshakes without lactaid.

do you ever feel like you got punched in the vagina?

some people don't feel like they need to flush the toilet after they have gone to the bathroom. this is, in fact, not true.

my flight or fight response is really strong. i apologize for kicking you in the balls.

your ignorance is hanging out, and you have some toilet paper stuck to your shoe.

fucking trees.

how do you know when the thrill is gone? won't it be thrilling when you find out?

maybe it's just me, but i like to keep my gaping wounds private.

why are you still talking?

dear crazy depressed people, i get you are crazy and depressed, and hell, maybe even a bit angry. sure life didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, whose really does? but if you insist on going crazy and removing yourself from the world, could you please do so without going on a random killing spree? while i might be mean, cynical, and not want to date you, i would rather not be dead. thank you!

i am not a fan of random violence.

but i am a fan of fan violence. punch those fucking fans, girls.

was that too random?

this week in jenna theatre. location - the streets of nyc. jenna encounters a young, enthusiastic, (possibly high) young woman handing out smoothie samples to passerbys. never one to pass up a smoothie, jenna goes in for a taste of delight.
me - is there dairy in this?
excited sample girl - yup! yogurt and milk!
me - oh, i can't have any.
excited sample girl - oh really? why? it's just a smoothie.
me - i know, but i'm lactose intolerant.
excited sample girl - ohmygod, you can't breast feed? what does your baby do?
me - what?

what happens after happiness?

are you destined to search for something else to believe in?

you're a beat reporter, not a beat-a-dead-horse reporter.

do pregnant women shave their lady parts before they give birth? or is their hairiness all hangin out there for the world to see?

i sleep under a blanket of cynicism. and cotton.

and i sleep very well, thank you. how do you sleep?

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

The Art of Loosing Your Mind in Midtown Manhattan

all pain is treatable, come hell or highball's.

i find you small and impotent.

i'm pretty sure no one would ever describe me as hardcore.

on the train today a man stared at me for about 5 minutes. just as i was getting uncomfortable about it, he pulled out a bible and started mumbling passages to himself.

people, i am not the antichrist.

i have way better hair.

subway lesson from me to you. if all the subway cars are jammed, except one, there is usually a reason. avoid that car.

i'm not good at bathroom stall small talk.

it's not that i particularly like lying, i just wanna be good at everything i do.

today i got the weirdest compliment i have ever received.

oh no, lady, that sound's not annoying at all.

get out of my way, i'm a bad driver with no depth perception

i'm floating on cloud 9.

why is it always cloud 9? what's wrong with cloud 4? or cloud 8? what if there are only 7 clouds? or what if there are 15 clouds, and all the good shit is happening on cloud 15, but you'll never know because you're too busy being on cloud 9 thinking it's as good as it gets?

do you see what keeps me up at night?

the problem with taking baths instead of showers is i never know where the fuck to pee.

i used to love taking baths, until i had a babysitter tell me baths were gross and nothing more than sitting in your own slime.

childhood lost.

i am never on the right side of music.

this week in jenna theatre, at boston market.
boston lady - what kinda chicken you want?
me - i have a choice? what kind do you have?
boston lady - whole chicken or cut chicken?
me - oh, whole chicken
boston lady - we ain't got no whole chicken
me - ok...
boston lady - we only got cut chicken.
me - ....

sometimes i wonder why i bother at all.

i like to say 'morning' to people. i keep things neutral and let people make their own assumptions on the type of morning it is. who am i to judge?

nice legs. can you land planes with those suckers?

lady, i ain't no superman, i'm just super late for work.

pretty normal shit, pretty boring shit.

if my horoscope is true, then i'm fucked in september.

i would never question your intelligence, out loud.


you order will be processed in the order it was received.

it's all so very orderly.

order stems from chaos.

i'm pretty defensive, especially when i am not being accused of anything.

punctuation is like literary eye candy.

all i can picture is a candy-necklace made of eyes. ew.

there is a fine line between a functioning brain and....

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The Art of Faking Friendships with Farting Foes

you know, there are no super heroes that turn into hippos.

i find it hard to believe that there are that many messy painters in the world. there must be a clothing line.

am i to assume you're unassuming?

i'm over people with faux eating disorders.

if you want to feel good about yourself, step on the scale after you take a gigantic poop.

our relationship has been nothing more than horrible photos and 50% off love.

sir, if my penis were that small, i certainly would not be showing it around manhattan.

i choose not to acknowledge my left pinkie toe.

it's a personal decision. it usually is.

i tried to paint my nails with red nail polish. now it looks like I have been finger painting in blood.

i fail as a girl.

this week in jenna theatre. the scene - a large empty room in a temple. the players - only jenna and an older gentleman. the incident - a loud fart. the question - who did it?

i met a girl tonight who wears a size 10 shoe. i know what they say about men and shoe size, but what do they say about women?

most people loose iq points when they drink. not me, i start speaking like like einstein and nietzsche's fucking scrabble board.

it's serendipitous.

put that in your pipe and smoke it.

when i see someone talking to a crazy person, i think to myself, what is that he's doing, doesn't he know that person is crazy?

i'll say this for them, there are a shit-load of port-o-potties.

i always thought i'd marry to keep someone in the country.

my ID, already?

i often have the words to say, i don't have the words.

cutting your toenails at work is disgusting. i don't create excel spreadsheets in your bedroom, now do i?

i find it confusing when i see people carrying huge dictionaries around. does anyone really have a need for that many words, that quickly? there has to be a better way, or a smaller size.

some people have sex phone voices. the guy behind me sounds like a cross between kathleen turner and harvey firestein and the combo is making his conversation about surgery and blood work, sound like a dirty proposition.

books smell like home. unless somebody pukes on them. then they just smell like puke.

i offered to help an old man carry his 3 large suitcases down and then up some stairs. he said "i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you."

i love wife beaters.

the tank top. not the criminal.

it is amazing how many things sound like euphemisms for poop.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The Art of Breaking Bread with British Boys

if you're going to go through the trouble to get fake eye lashes, lip injections, and get your hair all done up, you might as well wear a bra.

i realized i walk around with a small smile on my face. i am not sure why i do this.

i'm too old for this shit.

stop reading what i am writing over my shoulder. yes, i am talking to you.

if laughter is the best medicine then why don't doctors give people laughing gas?

maybe it's bad karma, but i could watch people try to parallel park all day.

i can't be friends with people who have never eaten chocolate pudding.

i almost kicked a rat.

i hate when i can't tell if a man has one arm or not. i suppose it doesn't matter, i just like to know either way.

was that your stomach growling, or are you just that excited to see me?

i hate how one person can ruin your day.

this week in jenna theatre –
while working the front desk – the phone rings
me - hello (insert typical greeting)
gf - hello this is george fullultman calling for *name has been removed to protect identity*
me - I'm sorry, he's not in today, may I take a message?
gf - sure tell him george fullultman is calling. that's g as in...uh...
me - g as in george?
gf – yes, g as in george, e as in…oh…

honestly, people!

this morning i fell down some urine soaked stairs. little did i know this would be an indication of how my day would ultimately go.

don't you hate it when years of loyalty is repaid by a kick in the shins?

i hate when people are passive aggressive. can't we all just be aggressive?

if karma and payback get to be a bitch, why can't i be one too?

there's nothing wrong with her that a high limit credit card can't fix.

i feel like michael jackson today.

i realize i swear an exorbitant amount. especially when exercising.

why couldn't i have gotten the tall, skinny polish super model genes?

boys and girls, i think i have given birth to a new ab and ass muscle. hello little ones, i hope you will be happy here.

with great responsibility, comes great responsibility.

things that are green taste better than things that are brown. please see m&m's for further understanding.

sometimes you're the egg, and sometimes you're the chicken.

i see your lips moving, but i don't believe a word that's coming out.

lying is like eating crackers in bed. there is always something there to remind you.

at the end of the day, i am a really nice person, i like to think. but if you don't stop reading over my god damn shoulder, i might be forced to kick you were you would really rather not be kicked.

sometimes you're the pole, sometimes you're the pole dancer, and sometimes, you're just fucked.

have no fear, though, i will still be here, i promise.

this is by far one of the scariest things i have ever seen...

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The Art of Catching the Paranoid Purple People Eater

have you ever noticed how some people appear to have entire conversations with themselves using only their eyes?

i'd like to be able to say i have accomplished something more than popping the perfect bag of popcorn.

the day is moving at a glacier-like speed. and i don't mean one of those “ice-caps are melting” glaciers either.

i am too easily persuaded by beer.

i am too easily persuaded while drinking beer.

i am freakin' chicken little at work today. my damn ceiling is falling around my head. i was the only one who noticed it.

once again, my thumb nail has broken, proving how damn annoying life can be without it.

honey, just looking at you i see 3 major health code violations.

i feel uncomfortable when i run into someone that i have seen puking all over themselves.

i think my kitchen is trying to poison me.

i'm not paranoid, i'm just really sure that someone is out to get me.

bumper stickers are like lockers, you should be done with them by high school.

it would seem to me, based on the concept of medication, that you could take pills that have fallen on the ground and not worry about the possibility of germs.

i looked cuter this morning.

i wish you would grow up, but i’m not holding my breath.

answer - the road crews have painted the parking spaces in the wrong direction.

question - what caused a 8 car cluster fuck this morning?

i like lower case.

your tie matches; it just makes you look like a tool.

you –jenna, will you help me move this sunday?
me – no.
you – please?
me – i think i'm coming down with something, and i’m busy, and i broke my foot.
you – i’ll give you beer.
me – ok, count me in.

expecting something from you is an exercise in futility. however, i am a futility specialist.

i don't judge you for not walking up the escalator, you lazy sack of shit.

while i am not an advocate of suddenly stopping dead in your tracks anywhere, there are definitely places you should NEVER EVER stop moving. the bottom of an escalator is just one off the top of my head.

sometimes i wear the pants and sometimes the pants wear me.

webMD has me convinced i have approximately 59 different diseases.

if i knew before i ran the marathon how hard training for a marathon would be, i’m not sure i ever would have run one.

it’s not all about the journey, even though sometimes it is all about journey.

i know the lyrics to 800,000+ songs, but i cannot remember what stop i get off on the E train.

the mind is an empty scream.

what are you looking at? is there something on my face? something between my teeth? is my fly down? are my boobs falling out? is my hair standing up? where did you put my dunkin donuts?

what the fuck is going on here?

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

The Art of Being Dark and Cynical on a Bright Sunshiny Day

sometimes i can't tell if it's raining or if people are just spitting on me.

sometimes i wonder what’s going on up there.

do beautiful people use inhalers, or do hot people just blow air into their mouths?

i hate not knowing what you think of me. i hate that i care.

you're only as happy as your last suicide attempt.

a man in the elevator at my office building, eyed me up and down, then asked if it was take your daughter to work day already.

no, it is not.

here i am, a dark cloud of cynicism.

make him buy the dress ladies, it'll never last.

if you have underwear not fit for general public viewing, might i suggest carrying your dirty laundry in a bag that is not see through? i don’t need to see anybody’s skid marks.

don't worry about me, i always make it home.

current company dress codes appear to be men: business casual, women: slut.

i hate that i have tiny legs and big dreams.

this has been a sub par effort.

remember the good old days where people were afraid to confront people because they might loose their damn minds. ahhh memories.

i actually considered looking through a dumpster this morning when i saw what appeared to be a large unwrapped candy bar.

incidentally, it was a rat.

i sweat in the shade.

virginia is for lovers. so are vaginas.

this one's for you.

i see nothing wrong with drinking before noon.

i see nothing wrong with drinking before nine.

i think somebody moved my house.

i like to read spam mail, just to check in on the evolutionary status of societies scam artists.

apparently the freakin’ united nations had a trust fund that i am a beneficiary of. who knew?

i hate when i accidentally go to work.

i don't know what's worse, loosing 20 dollars or watching the waitress spill your cocktail.

people only like you when you're down.

quitting is the cowards way of saying i like you.

i think i’m lost, but i am sure it is around here somewhere.

those who throw stones, hurt me.

aren't we all just intended victims of something?

its not that i'm cold hearted, i just hate when technology wins.

leave your cheese at the door.

there is a bit of optimism between your teeth. you might want to do something about that.

i'm just sayin’ it seems like i am always just sayin.'

there ain’t no place like home.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

The Art of Wetting the Bed During a One Night Stand

i don't like to wax poetics on a full stomach.

i've always been afraid to settle into someone elses dream.

subway musicians fascinate me. who are they? are they failed musicians, hidden geniuses, egotistical maniacs, or just plain crazy?

some people only sing in the shower. these people sing on the streets.

that girl has an ass the size of a mid-to-large sized baby.

i never trust it when people say they are excited to see me. i always check to make sure they know who they are talking to.

i hear drums.

i sometimes worry my head is too big.

i'm like a bored lion. or giraffe.

although giraffes always look bored. maybe like a gazelle? i mean, sure you can run and look all graceful and shit, but other than that, what do you really have?

i don't believe in umbrellas, i mean sure, they exist, but to what end?

i wish I could diet and loose a shoe size.

i hate when people chew gum like a mother fucking cow. close your damn mouth. i don't need to see your spittle flying all over the damn place.

is it better to know where you stand, or to let the mystery move you along?

it is hard to be positive when you have been robbed.

there has to be a better way.

i enjoy the challenge of deciding what to eat for lunch. i am overjoyed at the one decision i get to make in a day.

i have decided to not do anything about it.

what's the difference between isolated and scattered thunder showers? in the end, aren't they kind of the same concept?

i'm sick of anorexics.

try as i might, i do not enjoy the feeling of almost dying.

sometimes people say the stupidest shit.

i want a dream lover...cuz i don't wanna dream on the phone.

the quality of my day relies completely on whether or not i get a seat on the train on my way to work.

you cannot be completely arbitrary.

if you don't know what i mean, look it up.

i have a bun in the oven. no, literally. i'm toasting some whole wheat buns for my hamburgers.

i feel betrayed by my credit card. it knows what it did.

my alarm clock wins too much. i might put it in a room with a rooster and see who comes out on top.

when life pisses you off, stop answering the phones. or when you do answer them, use a fake british accent.

give the spice rack back and tell him to fuck off.

in an effort to save money, something has to go. i'll miss you, food.

hello, vodka, dear friend.

mother nature is clearly a bipolar.

hypocrites always point their finger first.

am i even making sense this morning?

i think it's fair to say, having your head near some one's ass is never a good thing.

lesson learned.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

The Art of Finding False Facts in Freeport (Texas)

i am never satisfied with toilet paper rolls.

celery is an underrated vegetable.

gentleman, if you cannot fit into your own seat, perhaps you should stand. and if you cannot fit it into your own pants, then your parents should be proud.

you did what with a raisin?

why do people find the need to use a sports teams performance to launch insults at me? i ain't playin' second base, nor am i paying the salary for the second baseman, so your perceived slams are almost irrelevant.

your words wound me to the core.

i called out of work pregnant today. i wonder how long i can ride that lie for.

can you microwave tin foil?

no, you cannot.

how much do microwaves cost these days anyway?

if no one saw you blow up the microwave, did it even happen?

there are days I feel like I live in a state of perpetual confusion.

there are days i wish i lived in the state of denial. do you think that's on a map?

i have trouble joining fan pages of people who start their own fan pages on facebook. i find it redundant.

perhaps we should think of renaming the states of new york and new jersey. does anyone even know where the old york and old jersey are?

someone told me that I "needed to grow a pair of balls". although, my understanding of basic biology is weak, i am under the impression that that's not how that works. maybe i'm wrong. and in which case, should i, as someone not currently in possession of said balls, really be trying to accomplish this feat?

depression is the ultimate display of egotism.

i find the more i try to get lost, the more people find me.

of course you need to fight for my attention. what, like it's free?

it is getting easier to sleep standing up, however i still maintain that sitting down is probably the way to go.

i don't chase shadows. i let them come to me.

i want a beer and a nap. i'm not sure in which order.

somehow using sex as a weapon sounds dangerous.

i was cornered on the street by someone who wanted money for "" i stopped her mid-sales pitch and told her she lost me at

someone recently asked me why i thought he had trouble getting girls in his online gaming community.

sometimes the answer is in the question.

if i wanted to know how to play the board game, i would have asked. plus, i would probably actually be in the process of trying to play said board game.

it is hard to be your friend. especially when you wear a unitard.

my favorite eye candy is recess peanut butter cups.

i would like to have a pet, and name it peeve.

why wont that pesky sex tape rumor go away?

sometime people mature in reverse.

i learned a valuable lesson today. pregnancy jokes are not funny, especially if the person is actually pregnant (sorry lady on the 7 train)

I feel guilty using generic products.

i wish to be a parcheesi master.

wait, that has to do with cheese, right?

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

The Art of Clinging to Clichés

i can run a freaking marathon, but walking a half mile to the subway in heels is damn near impossible.

hiding garbage in the bushes still is, in fact, littering.

i accidentally wore 3-D glasses today, thinking they were sunglasses. i did not realize my mistake until I made it into work, slightly nauseous.

blow your fucking nose already.

better luck next pay check.

i hate displays of weakness.

i find it peculiar when people find the need to wear shirts proclaiming their personality traits. i guess if we are going on the assumption these shirts are true as opposed to wishful thinking on the part of the wearer, wearing a shirt that informs of who you are could actually be beneficial. you can narrow down your group of friends. diva? no, thanks. drama queen? i'm good. asshole? i'll pass.

as a rule, i do not hate people. there are always painfully apparent exceptions to this rule.

today was not my day for mass transit. first on the morning commute, a barbara bush look alike pushed me over on the subway this morning screaming at me to ‘move it’. then on the ride home, i got up for a pregnant woman and her 2 kids. the mother declined a seat, so i sat back down. then all of a sudden, i feel a bang on my head, then another, and another. i finally catch the little kids beating me in the head with their toy train. the mother remained on her cell phone, completely oblivious to the fact her kids were assaulting me with their trains. great parenting.

screw the environment, I need a bullet-proof suv.

i do not like routine; i just need it to survive. like chocolate. or a whistle from a construction worker.

i despise people who do not follow the basic rules of society.

i never take more than i need. i always ask for more than i want.

your personality reminds me of a dead penguin.

the new york mets remind me of a relationship i had once.

remind me to tell you that joke.

it's what i won't talk about that should concern you.

you don't have to work so hard to make me think you are a terrible person. i already do.

apparently i am a "gold-digger" (thank you random twitter friend?) i find this amusing as i have actually never dug for gold in my life. i have panned for gems in north carolina as a child. does that count?

if i was indeed a gold digger, than i have done a terrible, terrible job. and i need bigger boobs.

face up here, thank you.

wearing heels makes me feel like tap dancing.

i said i don't want to talk about it.

sometimes the world seems very dark. especially at night.

hair seems to be the problem. the lack there of seems to be the conclusion.

ready or not, here i come.

question marks only exonerate the situation.

better to have fought and lost, than to have spent the day in the bathroom crying.

i will defeat cheese.

i thought head phones were supposed to prevent music from being blasted to those around you. clearly, ipod does not think so.

it is not my aim to offend you. it is my aim to offend everyone.

i don't take the things you say personally, i take the clothes you wear personally.

you need new socks.

my faith was restored in humanity this week. a man offered me an umbrella to walk under in the rain. my faith was then promptly stored when that man tried to cope a feel on my ass. oh well.

six of one, half a horse either way.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

The Art of Pooping in Public with Perfect People

if i followed the 'don't say anything unless you have something nice to say' rule, i might never talk.

no matter what, i'll be chasing a high until i die.

i do not rsvp to pity parties.

clipping your nails on the platform is gross. i hate that clip, clip sound.

my first thought upon seeing a raised toilet seat is that someone has been puking.

something about plastic wrap mystifies me.

feet are gross. not because of the dirt or germs or whatever people get by walking around town, but because of the stuff i imagine grows between people's toes.

watching bret michaels get taken out by a flying set piece at the tony awards was a highlight of my week.

wearing anger becomes a badge of courage.

don't dive into the shallow end of conversation.

just because they make spandex in your size, does not mean you should be wearing spandex in your size.

a car is just an empty metaphor. and the quickest way to the store.

don't laugh now, they will think you are funny.

scoring a seat on the subway feels a lot like scoring a free drink from a drunk guy. exciting at first, but then you get peed on.

the work day lasts so much longer when you actually arrive on time.

might need to rethink my strategy.

i'm sorry, we're all out of sympathy and tears here, please check back at a later time.

yes. i am making fun of you.

i usually just assume you are mad at me, saves me time in the long run.

i feel pain. i just don't like to buy it a round.

so much leg room.

i just saw a man throw a bouquet of roses on the ground then get into his car and leave. i also saw a woman crying on the subway. I wonder if the two incidents are related.

so i was a bit drunk on the subway the other night. bored and unable to read my book, i noticed the crossword puzzle the guy was filling out next to me. i saw he is having trouble filling out 6 down. it’s mark walberg, i told him. a few stops later, 22 across doppelganger, i mumbled. the guy was getting a bit angry at me and i don't blame him. i was kicking his ass in crossword puzzle and i suck at crossword puzzle. he moved seats after the next stop.

that is one of the saddest stories I have ever told.

organic apples have been pooped on by cows.

there's your ' go green' thought of the week.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

The Art of Eating Meat with No Teeth...

...and other southern traditions.

short and sweet only works in horse shoes.

i hate when people tell me to mark their words, and then don’t provide me a writing instrument. hardly seems fair that i have to do everything in that little scenario.

too much fodder makes jenna a dull girl.

i'm pretty sure i am going to jail at least once in my lifetime.

what happens when a political speech writer gets writers block? you can't exactly ask for an extension on the state of the union.

i'm constantly told i need to develop a thicker skin. i am not sure how to do this.

if i develop a thicker skin, will i become more or less appetizing to cannibals?

are there health problems related to having a thicker skin?

will words really bounce right off of me and stick to you?

i am pretty sure i was supposed to have figured it all out by now.

for everyone who has ever told me planes are safe, suck my toe.

no, not that toe, the other know what, toes are gross, let's forget i mentioned anything about toes.

what was i talking about?

for your convenience i have included a map of the subway system, but i have left off every emergency exit.

who is king of the subway rats?

just when i think we belong, i realize i forgot my phone.

don't sneeze on the door knob.

don't squeeze your fruit.

should i get fake boobs? i think i lost the warranty on mine.

and i ran, i ran so far away...

i'm not hungry, i only came here to drink.

did you know that drinking large amounts of alcohol is bad for you?

how can something that feels so right, be so wrong?

you really can be so emo.

i dodged a bullet today when 80 school kids did not get on my subway car.

i also dodged a bullet when i was shot at earlier this week.

i am not sure which on i am happier with.

i was attacked viciously by a smoothie from smoothie king.

fuck him in the eye with a kust poon.

there is never a good reason to be awake at 4:45 am. ever.

people under estimate the power of disillusionment.

i am obsessed with jamba juice. long live jamba juice. mmmm….jamba juice…

i wish life were as simple as a fairy tale.

tripping over your own feet clearly illustrates evil intent on the part of your brain.

what’s your malfunction?

i’m jealous of people who have no concept of their body moving through space and time.

please lady, continue to elbow me. i enjoy it.

if my computer tells me i cannot do that function one more time, there might be a computer falling from the 33rd floor.

singing off key at the top of your lungs on the subway about jesus, will not bring about any converts.

malfunctioning electronics confuse me. and scare me a little bit.

toaster ovens are made by people who want to have suspense when toasting bread.

i wait until the last minute to make my mind up. i wait until 5 minutes after that to change it.

i am feeling small and undersized.

has anyone ever dated a leprechaun?

i wish i had the ability to cry on command. you know what would be even more helpful? the ability to vomit on command. think of all the uses!

so, i ran a marathon sunday. i ran 26.2 miles. in 5 hours 45 minutes. as i didn't decide to try to run until 3 weeks before hand, i am pretty gosh darn proud of myself.

in related news, i am also sore as two whores on prom night and my left knee has put in for a transfer. i am ready for my next marathon!

me and my sister jocelyn after the race with our medals!

me, lydia, and jocelyn before the race!

people constantly amaze me by their willingness to torture themselves, i am clearly no exception.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

The Art of Making Lemonade Out of Liver

there will be no resting on laurels here.

all vacations must come to an end. they have to. or else they’d be called life.

i'm not sure kids should be allowed on airplanes. i understand this might be a better alternative to driving kids for their parents, but i'm not certain my ear drums will ever be the same.

i am now only announcing our imminent death to the passengers within ear shot. i feel this is an improvement over my previous behavior of screaming it to the entire plane.

i hate sitting by the engine. i don't want to be the first to know when it falls off the plane...

there are some people who should not be allowed on boats. mainly because the urge to push them over the railing it too strong.

the plane does not have room to accommodate your plant.

i hate the smell of desperation.

i would like to be paid. just, because.

don't fart in elevators.

sometimes i wish i were a kid again, if only to walk around disney dressed as “belle.”

i've always wanted to be a part of a festive brouhaha.

i might be too insecure for social networking.

who left the scotch out?

i cannot offer proof of life.

don't tell me i can't do something. i don't want to have to go through the trouble to prove you wrong. i'm too damn lazy.

i never do my hair. i just wash it, wake up, and hope for the best.

i happen to excel at doing nothing.

if you happen to see it, please return it.

i will never understand michael vicks.

i will also never understand mike tyson, but he has that whole lisp, high-pitched voice thing to contend with.

i love hearing about people's shit. just not from the people themselves. they always give their drama a positive spin.

i've been thinking about growing out my bangs, but then i'd have to face my forehead every morning.

sometimes i don't have that satisfied feeling that comes from accomplishing something huge.

does that mean it wasn’t huge after all?

while i do not have anything of any particular value, today i am finding myself particularly territorial over my desk.

lost in translation. translated into french.

sometimes i fear i have become invisible.



can you even read this?


i managed to make it 4 days on a slippery wet boat, wearing slippery flip flops, and not slip one single time. however, in tennis shoes, on land and in sunshine i manage to slip at least 4 times. touché sneakers.

the louder the horn, the slower i move.

i have been working very hard to not do one single thing. so far, so good.

disney in the rain, is still disney.

why does beer taste so damn good?

if you're bored, than you're boring. or at least, you're probably boring to me.

finding seltzer in the south is like finding jesus in your toast, highly unlikely and extremely suspect.

(My apologizes to Jesus if he has, in fact, appeared in toast.)