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
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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....