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?