Wednesday, April 29, 2009

The Art of Swearing Too Much

i live in new york fucking city - and i can't get a frozen margarita delivered to my house?!?!? THE INSANITY!!!!

i sometimes feel electronic devices are trying to communicate with me. i'm pretty sure my microwave has evolved.

riding elevators with strangers stress me out. i am always thinking...if we get stuck in here, how would this person taste?

you know, it's funny, just the other day i was wishing i have an old, fat, white republican around to tell me how to live my life.

i only have to pee when there is no bathroom in sight.

i hate when i find myself watching infomercials as if they are tv news reports and then buying into the concepts...ohmygod! yes! i DO need a sponge that has the soap and wax in it, and there is one for a dog? brilliant!

procaulk...heh - heh

i want a snuggie. no i don't, yes i do.

i don't understand why people like me sometimes. i'm loud, i'm moody, i'm sassy, i swear like a sailor, and according to the homeless man on park and 40th, i've got great tits....oh wait...maybe the answer is in the question....

upon stepping on the scale and discovering a number i didn't like, i proceeded to carry the scale around my apartment to see if location helped my chances. apparently by the window i am 2lbs lighter.

are they really benefits if they cost you 500 a month?

i am often spoken to like i am an idiot. i often punch people in the knee.

i know it's supposed to be polite and make you feel special, but when people use my name in every sentence, it makes me feel creepy.

i don't have the knack for remembering names. people should be required to wear name tags in the work place.

i know you might feel like you're closer to the front of the line, but standing with your face four inches from my ear, shockingly, will not get you in any faster.

i understand there is a scientific explanation behind it, but i honestly feel like my stomach is attempting to make contact with me.

i use strange accents to answer the phone at work sometimes.

i wish my boss would wear a bell around his neck.

according to Swiss scientists, sweaty men smell like cheese and sweaty women smell like onions or grapefruit. they should know. they're swiss.

so i tweet...and while i have friends on there who post occasionally, it is primarily me and my sister...talking to each we do on gchat, and aim, and facebook, and text message, and blogspot.....

my face has been spontaneously blushing.

at work, no matter the judgment you make on a judgment call, it will be the wrong one.

i thought there was something on my face. turns out it was my face.

why doesn't anyone respond to fire alarms anymore?

fuck braces.

i want to start a new game. fat or pregnant? is that mean?

i did not realize it was possible to be that unfunny.

how honest is too honest?

i feel slightly satisfied and greatly nauseous.

sometimes it's not that people are good or bad, it's that when they are dating you, they make you unbearable.

i am only happy when i know i won.

if you don't hold on to your shit, somebody else will.

you would be so lucky if i was your ex.

i am leaning slightly to the left. literally. my bag is heavy as shit.

why have more people fallen asleep on my shoulder in the last week, than in my entire life combined. apparently i am cuddly.

if i am a mother, my kids will love winnie the poo. i feel the earlier we introduce bowel movements, the better my life will be.

fuck my feet...cute shoes suck.

i always feel really embarrassed buying those huge value packs of toilet paper. i always worry people are thinking "man, that bitch must take a lot of shits!"

i am either extremely early or extremely late everywhere i go.

dude, if your penis is a big as your stomach is fat, then please, by all means, sit with your legs spread as wide as they can go. otherwise, close up, buddy, and let someone sit.

why do they keep giving the flu animal names?

in the past week, i have used to word "asshole" 957 times in describing people.

someone asked me for directions to somewhere, i couldn't hear what she said so i said, "i'm sorry, where?" she yelled, "learn english!" and stormed off. apparently i am one of those geniuses who spontaneously learn languages.

i am greatly saddened by the loss of bea aurthur. her humor and wit, and dead pan delivery both on stage and on screen, shaped my view of women in comedy. a woman doesn't have to be weak, dumb or slutty to be funny. and she was certainly none of those things...

however i fear i am all of those things...thanks anyway bea!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The Art of Not Sliding Home


i am being cautiously cautious.

hate allergies, love tacos.

it's not that i want you to crash and burn, it's just so much more entertaining to watch you fall.

sometimes life is like raking the leaves on a windy day.

todd e., i find your face offensive.

i totally thought a cute boy was staring at me on the subway. it wasn't until i got off the train that i realized why. the jeans i am wearing have a huge hole located, you guessed it, right by the crotch. i basically flashed somebody for 7 stops.

too sexy for this computer.

i apologize for your ignorance.

i still don't know what i want to be when i grow up.

you know how in those old tv shows, when kids shared a room and they had a fight, they would put tape down the floor so the other person couldn't cross it? ever feel like you wish you could do that as an adult? like, i don't know, on the bus...or in your office?

why do bathroom stall doors open in? i always have a moment of panic when i'm trying to get out of one.

why do I need the gym again? oh yeah, cuz i eat. damn you food network.

what ever you think, i didn't do it.

apparently i need therapy. thanks for that. shall i send the bills to you?

i am afraid i'll break a baby. it's not that they're that great, i just don't want to be responsible for breaking your kid.

i hate when pharmacists judge me.

someone just touched me with their arm pit. no. i did not ask for that to happen.

anger makes you puffy. not the rapper. the shape.

when is a head contusion funny?

i can't decide if i'm hungry or gassy.

i love a good bitch fest, but only in whispers.

after getting out of a long relationship every girl dates an asshole and a guy with a small penis. sometimes you date an asshole with a small penis and get it over with in one shot.

famous people are just like you, except people give a shit about them.

i still love books.

i can't feel bad for people who deliberately hurt themselves.

you need a new job.

mornings are evil.

i feel lost when trying to give directions.

i wish i was already there.

rudeness is like farting. when it happens, everyone notices.

i get confused on nights of the week that start with t. tuesday, thursday, tonight, tomorrow...

if you shower without soap, it's really just getting rained on.

why has no one told me about 30 Rock, ok to be fair, people told me but why didn't i listen?

i have a sugar body scrub that i love. the only problem is the ants love it too. we had a show-down in the shower. i was in there, all ant free, and just as i opened the jar, the first ant appeared. he must have alerted his friends because then they appeared everywhere it seemed. i was so freaked out i stepped back quickly, slipped, and was sprawled out in the bathtub. as it turns out it wasn't ants, it was some fuzz the cats tracked in.

there is, however an ant problem i am trying to solve. i know they are watching with their creepy ant eyes.

i think it's funny how some word sound the same, but have completely different meanings. imagine that story with the word aunt.

i guess that's why people should have accents, to help us tell words apart.

my cat likes to find my underwear or pants and climb inside them and take a nap. i dated someone once who did the same thing. it wasn't nearly as cute.

people say money can't buy happiness. but this is false. it can. and none of that rich in love bullshit. yeah, being rich in love rocks, but i want to be rich in rich. love can't get me club house level at the mets. love can't get me into the diamond lounge at caesars, although once it did, but that's neither here nor there. love can't hook me up in a penthouse in downtown manhattan. and love can't buy me jewels. and damn it, i want some jewels.

i am now skinny enough to go back to wearing my g-strings. oh lovers, how i've missed you.

i have a crush on you.

remember sweetie, a man who would pinch a girl once, would just as soon hit her with a frying pan.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

The Art of There, They're, Their...

...and the people who give a fuck.

today for the first time in my life, a random stranger tried to sell me drugs. i felt so honored that i didn't want to say no.

today for the first time in my life, i sold drugs to kids at a playground.

that was a bad joke. it was at the zoo.

knock knock.
who's there?
poop who?

that was a good joke.

i was confronted by a squirrel.

anything with thumb holes is amazing.

i don't care what ethnicity you are, it is not ok to use the ATM mirror to pop your zits.

i saw a man parallel park his car into a tree.

i found this man's situation ironic as he had a "women belong in the kitchen" bumper sticker on the back of his car. really? the kitchen? and your car? does it belong in a tree?

there aren't enough pigs with capes.

there is something quite sexy about a man with a little bit of scruff. there is, however nothing attractive about a man with a chin strap. unless you're rich as shit. then pretty much anything is ok.

i want to break into a pet store and go on a snake punching rampage.

when i am angry i like to shout out random hate crimes.

i have always wanted to taste hope. it tastes like chalk.

i always have to worry about what the top of my head looks like.

suck my toe.

it is quite different to be in a relationship with someone who wants to be there and someone who does not. if you're asking yourself which one you're in, then there is your answer. if you're crying, then maybe the reason no one wants to be with you is because you cry all the time. just an outside opinion.

i saw jesus in canada. he was in a parade.

i've been trying to be more honest with people and to tell them when they do something that upsets me. i've not been doing a very good job. so, here goes have upset me.

dogs are man's best friend. until they pee on the carpet.

i'm sorry about before. it was a joke. i'm not mad. let's be friends again? i'll buy you a snake!

i finally was invited to my first seder. i was forced to drink wine and sing passover themed show tunes. jewish people rock!

try to think, for one minute, about someone other than yourself.

there are those who deal in guilt and they win the house every time.

you are aware that it's just a game, right?

fucking extreme home makeover.

i've never had "penis envy" but i do wonder what it would be like to write my name with pee in the snow.

never joke about giraffes.

apparently the "cookie diet" is specific cookies that you eat, not milano's, like previously believed.

i am not satan. i just think screaming babies on a plane sucks. and i only threatened to flush one kid down the tiny toilet. and i was joking. kind of. although the mother took me rather seriously...

it's hard to ignore people when they aren't talking to you in the first place.

why would i want an overweight, ass ugly personal trainer?

i understand you like to have conversations with yourself, but could you and yourself please take it outside, some of us are trying to work.

i don't believe in alphabetical order.

the thing i don't get about identity theft is, how can you be so sure that what you get will be any better than what you had?

it's weird to finish last, when you weren't even aware you were racing.

i like to see how long it takes people to realize their fly is down. i suppose i could tell them, but that takes away the sport in it all.

let's start a subway dodge ball league.

i saw your face, now i'm a believer.

when i am explaining a story to someone and i am excited about something, my voice tends to get a bit too loud. this just happened five minutes ago in my office. i shouted "penis." i am not sure how i still have this job.

so nice ya said it know you wanna follow it...

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

The Art of Evil Easter Bunnies

i hate to disappoint you but i think you should know, i am honestly not a funny the next four hours will demonstrate...

i never know where to put my arms when i am standing.

herpes - the gift that keeps on giving.

surprisingly, getting louder does not make you more right.

english people know that anything they say in their accent sounds romantic. even that man who told me to move the fuck out of his way, and called me a fucking cunt. to me, he is Colin Firth and ladies, i just might be in love.

if your hair looks like you stuck your finger in an electric socket you will not be allowed to judge me.

i don't know how i feel about yoga. i am a bit competitive with it. i made it my mission not to fall. i was like, fuck you side plank, i'm gunna kick your fucking ass. hell yeah yoga!

ohmygod, i'm totally gunna be that 50 year old woman with tight shirts, boobs all hanging out and still showin my g-string...

i do not wish to wait any longer for godot.

i am not a still person. i do not have a still mind. i cannot stand still. i cannot walk without twiddling my thumbs. i cannot think of relaxing. the wii fit has trouble registering my weight because i fidget. if i have an hour at the gym, i need to be running until i am on the bring of vomiting, just to keep running interesting. lying on the floor for 5 fucking hours (ok to be fair, probably only 5 minutes) is not a good workout. i need to rethink yoga.

i can drink you under the table.

apparently most fine dining establishments do not like it when you drink under their tables.

also, in related news, i still like to "borrow" things when i am under the influence. like toilet paper...or hair...

stab your meat.

i am so hungry i am contemplating eating a a ring finger...or pinkie finger. i mean it's not like it has any use.

this is ridiculous.

girl scouts are the devil. girl scouts are bitches. fuck them and their cookies.

the problem with plastic seats is that they vibrate when you fart.

you are not america's next top model. although the girl who wins won't be either.

what IS it with people and their bodily functions right next to me? first the farting man, now the burping old lady, and i'm pretty sure she had tacos today.

alright iowa! i bet that is the first time anybody has ever said that about iowa!

if you sit behind a horse, don't be surprised if you get shit on. that was not a metaphor.

i cannot wait for you to crash and burn. but not from an airplane, or a car, or walking really fast into a sonic...i was being ironic. and, i admit, a bit bitchy.

i am the boss.

for once in your life, please ignore your call waiting.

fucking yoga. i should have taken the boxing class that was right after yoga so i could punch the yoga teacher in the face.

i might have missed the point of yoga.

what's with people having their own catch phrase? if you ain't in a tv show, knock that shit out.

wall. wall-e. wonder wall. walnut. nut job.

that's not my name.

i only cry when it hurts. it only hurts when i trip and bang my head into a wall.

you have no idea what happens to a woman when she gets a brazilian wax. no idea. (but now you're thinking about it)

those truth commercials make me want to take up smoking, especially the one with all the crying crawling wind-up babies that are all crying, so i can stab them with my cigarettes. burn plastic motherfuckers!

too much?

dreaming of pill and pain and vodka.

are you close?

it's disheartening to be the shortest person in a room.

what does it smell like under a yamika?

i ate a tag-a-long (aka peanut butter patty) and i think, though i'm not completely sure, that while eating that tasty treat, jesus did a dance in my mouth.

while i cannot successfully stare at something and think of nothing for 5 minutes, i can however, successfully stare at something and think about how much I hate it, for a good hour.

i'm sorry, i wasn't listening to you, i was too busy staring at your yellow tooth.

Shots before Shots. the new name of my shooting range slash bar. i'll let you guess which one you partake in first.

can we make yoga into a contact sport?

i drank my weight in vodka. there might have been hot dogs with no buns. and inappropriate jokes. and a toilet paper baby. what does it all mean? Let's Go Mets!

naked friday!

heh-heh...naked people.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

The Art of the Not-So-Funny Knock Knock Joke

violence really is my answer for everything. bored? punch someone in the face.

sometimes the best way to help someone is to push them down the stairs. you're welcome, old man.

is religion a restriction or a freedom?

some people look like pedophiles. especially pedophiles.

if you will excuse me a personal moment, i must confess, i am so excited for baseball season i cannot even find words to express it! also, someone please notice the fact that i am wearing jeans i have not been able to fit into since last year.

i am done with subway musicians. and especially done with mariachi bands.

pre cut vegetables excite me.

I LOVE GREEN PEPPERS! and i don't care who knows it.

i have accomplished something.

whatever your personal theory on deodorant is, trust us (the rest of the world) when we tell you to fucking wear some.

i spend most of my time writing this blog on the subway or waiting for something to begin. i feel like i always waiting. (Waiting for life to people?)

have you ever been in an elevator with someone who smells like they have on every perfume ever made?

just because it says apple on it, bringing your laptop on the subway and listening to the music, does not, in fact make that an ipod.

some might think i don't take risks. not true. i will try any shot you put in front of me, as long as it's free.

are you mad that i have a life that doesn't involve you?

onions are by far the foulest thing people eat. i don't get it. it makes you and your food smell like armpits. would you lick an armpit of a football player after the big game? no? then fucking stop eating fucking onions. especially in small places. it's kind of the same thing.

i hate watching skinny people eating mcdonalds. it's just wrong.

i won a staring contest with a baby.

don't take it personally, i don't listen to a lot of people.

i decided to cook spaghetti tonight. i bought peppers, meat, sauce, whole wheat spaghetti. i felt so italian and so like a bertolli commercial that i decided i would have a glass of wine while i cooked.

i need to buy another bottle of wine.

cooking wine does not taste like wine. perhaps they should call it something a little less misleading. like ass.

cooking it over rated. that's the main reason i moved to new york. for the take out bitches!

hi, my name is jenna, and i think my boobs, rock. sorry.

i apologize for everything. but i'm not really sorry.

while i never feel like boycotting leather, when i see a fur coat, i have the urge to throw red paint.

ma'am, there is a face on your stole.

i am 800 miles from nowhere.

empty minds rattle loudest when it rains.

i might jay walk, but i will never open another persons mail.

i slit the inside of my cheek with a plastic spoon. what is this world coming to where you now have to check the surface of your plastic cutlery?

wake up, it's your stop!

i might have salmonella poisoning. i licked raw chicken. it's really not that interesting of a story. but if i die, i'll keep you posted.