Vacation Here I Come!

Just posting to say buh-bye for now! I might get a chance to blog while I’m there, but really… I’m just gonna sit back and enjoy myself.

Maryland here I come! (Jaws, I’ll bring you back some funnel cake!)

Thanks everyone, for your comments… and cyber-pope, you’re odd.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Sweet Freedom

This Friday I will escape the restraints of my 24/7 life of helping my parents and trot off to Maryland to vacation with Keithy for eight blissful days.

I’m hoping my being gone for that long will renew their realization of just how much I do for them, and just how freakin’ awesome of a daughter I am. Lately, I’ve been taken for granted and I’m highly, highly too tired to continue on without a little break. My mom’s temper tantrums are only getting worse, and I feel more like I’m raising my parents instead of helping them out in a time of need. I mean, if I wanted to raise a child I’d have one. *snort* At this point I’m pretty sure it’d be close to the same thing.

ANYWAY, so I’m all set to leave… mentally. Lastnight, as my luck usually runs, I stepped on the heel of a kitten-heeled shoe that was face down, heel up, on the floor. The pain was horrendous, and I’m just hoping their was no horrible damage that’s just waiting to spring up when I’m in Maryland. Meghan, it’s all your fault because I was going to wear the shoes to Elek’s baptism but didn’t feel like battling the heat and spraining my ankle. So the sandles won out but the heels still hurt me in the end. Bastids.

So if you’re feeling stressed, or blue, just think of me out there having fun and be jealous!

—–
Also, I was fooling around in photoshop lastnight and decided since someone I know will likely be burned or blessed in the future by Brad at Blogg’d I thought I make some new buttons. Hopefully not taken as a “need attention” sort of thing, and instead taken as a kind gesture because…. that’s who I am.

Shut up, yes I am.

Here’s what they look like (reposted due to hotlinks having problems):

If you want to see the ones he uses, go check out Blogg’d. Also, if you’d like to use these, please host them yourself.

A Midsummer Night’s Walk

On my near daily walk around Blahzvillage I thought, why don’t I bring my camera with me more often? Since I walk around 8 – 8:30pm (being that it’s nearly the coolest daylight besides the early morning) the sun is usually just setting and more often than not, it look absolutely gorgeous along the water. So, the other night as I was headed out the door I grabbed my birthday gift, a digital camera (Ha-ha, Bob go ahead and hide yours now!), and headed out the door. The pictures I took will shortly be hanging on my wall, I hope.

The first picture is of my favorite tree along my walk. I really have no idea why I love it so much other than it’s just… really big and gorgeous. You can see the sun setting and making the trunk an orangey-brown color.

As I walked down to the beach, which I normally do, the picture below is what greeted me. Not the most beautiful I’ve ever seen off the water, but definitely picture and blog worthy, I think.

Some annoying teenagers thought I wanted their picture, to my dismay, and kept trying to jump into the photo. It doesn’t help that I look like one of them and my stern older person voice didn’t deter them, so I patiently waited for their little slow-witted heads to get out of the frame before shooting the picture. It was worth the wait if you ask me.

The next photo was off one of the many little jetties along the beach. At the last moment a seagull flew into the frame, the sneaky little flying trash can.

I then left the beach and made my way to the sometimes grueling trek up the stairs from the beach where a creepy old guy made some leer at me. As I crossed the street I shot a picture down the little road that leads to the beach under the main street and back up again. Why? Because I like it, so nyah.

I took a picture of a lightning bug, but it was far too blurry to include. To me, summer just isn’t summer without a lightning bug. For those of you who don’t get to see them, I feel sorry for you because you’re definitely missing out.

P.S. I didn’t want to forget to post about the best part of my weekend. Meghan, my long time best friend’s cute widdle baby boy, Elek, got baptized and I was honored to have been invited. Out of respect for Brian, Meghan’s husband, I’ll leave the photos out so no pervy people see his baby boy.

P.S.S. Also, Dave at Maximum Awesome used the badge of his I spruced up! It was from the remark of Keithy’s during a flame war over there we were involved in. Some guy, clearly on drugs, named Chris or Cris, I’m still not sure of the spelling, made the remark “I’d probably be able to bang you out if I wanted to.” to me, which made me throw up in my mouth a little. Anyway, check out the badges, they’re hilarious, and Keith was the champ. Dave awarded him the first badge to be displayed on his blog.

What the…?

The dark pink writing indicates the reason(s) I’m peeing so bloody much today, and the light pink is/are the reason(s) all I want to do is nap.

Mudder-feekin’ allergies.

Eww Gross!

It was brought to my attention last night that there could be some confusion about my honey, and my brother which gave me the willies and made me laugh at the same time. You see, there are TWO Keith’s in my life. My sweetie Keith, and my brother Keith. The Keithy that comments here is my sweetie, my brother isn’t computer savvy enough to check email let alone read my blog… or even get to it, for that matter.

So in the future I will, most assuredly, be saying either “my sweetie” or whatever pet name I come up with for my honey Keith. And will always refer to my brother Keith, as my brother Keith. If it doesn’t say “my brother Keith” then you can assume I’m talking about my honey.

Ugh…. so disturbing…*shudder!*

My brother Keith would not call me “lovey” or “honey” or “hun” at all…..ever. He usually has some kind of endearing obscenity he calls me. So anyway, yeah… thought I’d clear that nasty, nasty, nastiness up.

Forward Emailer Revenge!

I am sick and tired of getting 27 million email messages from my family who have nothing better to do with their email space other than read lame-arse messages and forward them off to me! It’s not like spam mail, you can’t go to the site where it came from and unsubscribe to family.

Currently, two of my brothers are/will be married to girls that loooooooove to forward email. Each of them have friends and family that also enjoy these things, but guess what? I’m not one of them. I can’t stand that when I open up an email box I see “Inbox (14)” and a crap load of emails about angels, and kids that aren’t theirs, little sayings, yadda yadda the list goes on and on! What’s horrid is I then have to read them because later on I know I’ll be quizzed about it. “Did you get my email about…?” and then if I say yes, they usually ask me something on it and I haven’t a clue what to say if I haven’t. I tried once saying I didn’t get the email, but that turned out to be bad because she just sent them again.

Michelle, my brother Keith’s wife, used to be the worst one but even at her worst she wasn’t as bad as B-renda is now. Even worse, with B-renda there are two email boxes that get spammed with her crap because she somehow got two! There just doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, and no way to get them to stop! A girl can only have so many email addresses before she goes crazy, and I think I’m past my limit.

Today, while I sat and waded through the endless spammy foward mail I thought of a brilliant plan. I think perhaps composing an email that’s utterly HUGE and filled with swirly crap and stupid sayings might be the ticket. I’m not talking about some little itty-bitty forward crap message, I’m talking the mother of all spam messages… and at the end, like every horrible spammy forward, I’ll write “Send this to 10 friends or you’ll have bad luck”. Muhahaha….

*ahem*

Speaking of email, I’ve recently been given 50 invites to Google Mail (which is an invite only email) so if anyone is actually reading this and would like an email, just email me your address and I’ll send you one or five.

UPDATE: The email was sent, it was huge, gigantic even, with plenty of ads for things like cakes and crap. Wedding themed because of their obsession with the wedding. I ended the email with:

“SEND THIS EMAIL TO 10 OF YOUR FRIENDS FOR THE BEST WEDDING LUCK EVER!

SEND IT TO 9 AND YOUR LUCK WILL BE LESS….

THE MORE YOU SEND THE BETTER YOUR LUCK!!!!!!!

DON’T CHANCE IT!

Mary from Baltimore, MD says – “I sent it to 10 of my friends and my husband and I have been married 12 years!!”

Kenilia from Florida says, “I never knew so much about superstitions! This email really helped ease my mind and the minds of my girlfriends too!”

Carla from Kent, WA wrote, “My mother sent me this and I was sure the luck from it helped me get through my wedding day!!!”

SO SEND THIS TO 10 FRIENDS & LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!!!!”


The quotes are, of course, concocted by yours truely. It was highly therapeutic.

Embarrassing Memories

I promised Keith that when he told his embarrassing story, I’d tell one of my own. Unfortunately I don’t have one as good as his with him saying, “Baaabaay” because it was the part of the song in his head at the time whilst having sex, but I’m fortunate enough to have plenty to choose from. Running with Keith’s younger year’s memory, mine was back in high school. I think I was around the age 16-17 (you know, the age I still look), my friends and I used to frequent a coffee house called Arabica because in the evenings it was packed with people our age just hanging out.

I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker, at least not back then, so all the water/soda I drank just… you get the picture. So I made my way to the bathrooms. Upon reaching the bathrooms I was met with a sign explaining that since they’re remodeling the men’s bathroom, the women’s bathroom is now unisex. Since most people don’t feel comfortable with this, a chain lock had been installed to give the illusion of safety. I say illusion because of what happened next.

I reached the bathroom door, read the sign, and then tried to open said door and was met with the clunk of the chain lock catching. Whaa? Now, most intelligent people would quickly withdraw and wait patiently for the person to unlock the door so they could enter. Me? Nooo… I’m not that smrrrt! I reached in between the crack and undid the lock. Yeah, I’m dumb, I know.

I don’t really know why I was surprised to see someone in there going, but I was. As I walked in I stared, like a deer caught in headlights, at the back of some guy standing in the bathroom stall with the door open. This is when a normal person would run out. I ran in. As I stood, shocked, in the other stall I asked meekly, “Is this the boys bathroom?” to which he uncomfortably replied, “Uhh no, I uhh think it’s, like, both now.” After I finished what I came to do, I wasn’t sure if I should leave the stall, or wait until he left. Then, to my dismay, four of the boys friends enter. Now, I obviously had to get out of there. If I stayed in the stall, they might think I was doing something (number two) that girls don’t do. So I casually leave the stall and walk over to the sink to wash my hands. The sink, however, has a plan to ruin my calm exit. As I try to turn on the faucet I realize the normal way to turn it on, is actually turning it off. So to turn it on, I had to turn it they way you’d normally turn it off. Strange.

As if this wasn’t already embarrassing enough… I wash my hands and go to turn it off, but instead turn it on even harder. This, of course, causes the water to BLAST all over me… most especially the crotch area. Hrm… wonderful. My mind raced as to what to do next, so I coolly placed my purse there and walked out, past the boys. I can remember thinking how close that’d been to a horrible disaster. At least I’d gotten away with a small crumb of dignity…. until I reached our table. I sat down and recanted my story, red faced, to my friend. She, and the guy at the table next to her, chuckled at my expense, as did I… and then to my utter disbelief… the boys from the bathroom joined the boy at the table next to us.

Let’s just say the rest of the evening was rather uncomfortable for me, and maybe just a little traumatic. It’s just one of the stories of my life that adds to the hilarity that is Jenny today. Atleast I always have a story, right?

Mudder-Feekin’ Ex

I’m scrubbed raw in the emotional department because I just finished reading ”Can You Keep a Secret?” by Sophie Kinsella, so this post will likely be all wordy and craptastic, but I promise you’ll laugh eventually either with or at me.

First, the phone call. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten a phone call from someone who you really don’t care for (and when I say “don’t care for” I mean, could care less if they exist) but it’s one of those situations you think, can’t I just rewind time a little bit and not pick up the phone?So I’m in the middle of polishing my mother’s toes for her when the phone rings. I run to pick it up because ever since my sister started asking for money I’ve put the ringer on 3 rings due to all the prank calls from her son, my nephew Derek. So I’m counting the rings, 1… running, trip over the dog, 2…. make it to the kitchen and pick it up out of breath.

Me: Hello?
Colin: Hey Jen.
Me: ….
Colin: Hello?
Me: Uhh..yeah?
Colin: (sounding a little odd, panicked) I just got your emails. (now he’s talking really fast) I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just packed all the stuff in the drawers.

I start laughing. Exactly, idiot, you packed your girlfriend’s panties and shaver.

Colin quickly adds: I mean, I packed all your stuff.
Me: Mm, well… yeah, I mentioned you packed some of my things. You packed her things too. Listen, I don’t really care anyway, I was just letting you know where they went to. (And I thought it was freakin’ funny!)
Colin: Jen… *big sigh*

(I always hated that he called me Jen. He introduced me as Jen, and everyone called me that before they really ever got to know me. Jen is my friends for a long time, more personal nickname, dangit.)

Me: I’m in the middle of something, is that all you wanted?
Colin: I’ve never been with anyone else (he must be forgetting the girl he cheated on me with) and I don’t know how panties that aren’t yours got in there.

(Then, and this is the best mudder-feekin’ part!)

Colin: There’s no one else if that’s what your worried about.
Me: (laughing all over again) No, I’m not worried about that at all.

(Yeah, cause I don’t have to worry about contracting an STD from one of your skanks anymore.)

Colin: You know what I mean.
Me: I gotta go.

Later on, after I finish doing all her nails to perfection (I’m really good at it, ya know) I go up and crawl into my computer chair and read emails.

Here’s email #1 – my comentary is purple:

Erm.. I have no idea what you are talking about. (Nothing new.) I just sent everything that was in those drawers. And The things that were in the closet. I don’t have a girlfriend now and have never even thought of looking for one.

Oh my word, do I even need to comment here?

I found that electric razor in the box of mismatched things in the bottom of the closet and assumed it was yours from when your mom sent that shipment of your belongings to you way back when.

It was too expensive for her to send a shipment because whenever it would arrive I would then have to pay other fees – not worth it. Plus, I’ve never owned an electric razor or red whore panties.

I assure you Jen, there are no games going on here. I don’t even know what panties you are talking about. (Yet then he pulls an imaginary pair out of his arse!)Were you talking about the red ones that you bought when you came to Fort St. John with me before we got married? Those were the only lace ones I sent. And I did see you wear those once there. Those are the only ones that come to mind.

First, Fort St. John, BC is the lamest place to shop. It’s a trucker town. Their big-timey store is Walmart, and it didn’t even exist when I was living there before we got married, so where in the heck would I find a place that I’d buy panties from? That work-clothes place that sells over-alls? Infact the only thing I ever bought there were books.

Jen, I wouldn’t confess my love and care for you after everything we have been through and not mean it. There has been no other woman in my life except me wishing we were together.

Right, he would never say something and not mean it. Like… say… wedding vows. And the other woman in his life is named ‘mewishingweweretogether’? Eegads, her parents must hate her.

As for the baby picture, I am very confused. I didn’t send one of them? Or I did send one that wasn’t yours?

I said the word “assinine” once and he thought I was the most brilliant person he’d ever met. Nuff said on the “I am very confused” part.

please explain.

Colin
—-

Letter #2 – my commentary in purple:

shoot forgot to mention one thing. I got a few shirts as gifts. The Nike hoody and whatnot and just thought you may like it because you like sweatshirts and things. I didn’t like the way the fit me. It was a just a gesture of goodwill.

Blah blah blah… yeah it was a gesture of goodwill, I sent them to Goodwill.

Jen you have to belive me that I am WAY above these stupid games. I would never do anything like that to you.

No…*snort*….never.

Anyways… Just thought you should know.

Colin

The hilarity that is the day before my birthday must be an omen of more good things to come tomorrow. Now all I need is for all my internet stalkers to surface and I can die a happy woman.

… If by happy I mean completely miserable and wanting to physically harm myself.

Draft Letter

As I mentioned in my last post, I wanted to write a letter to Colin (my ex) because of his shipping me the panties and shaver. After I wrote it I thought maybe I’d wait to send it and let you guys vote on if I should send it or not, or maybe if I should change something, or the wording?

Here’s what I have:

Colin,

I had thought your sending me the things I left behind a great gesture of your maturity, but as I opened each box from the first shipment, and now the second, I wonder if perhaps you had planned on sending me someone elses panties and shaver?

Now I’m a fairly nice person and, as you know, have a great sense of humor and even got a good chuckle out of what has to be a joke! I came to this conclusion when, with the first shipment you sent the panties. Clearly I would never wear or buy the pair placed in there, and have given most of the clothing to the blind in hopes they have vats of harsh cleaners strong enough to get any skank out of them. The panties, however, have been placed where they belong, in the trash. It’s funny how they’ve gone back from whence they came, isn’t it?

I thought the games would be over before I recieved the second shipment, but you fooled me again. Shame on me! Thank you for the irriplaceable baby pictures you thought I could live without, but along with them you sent an electic razor which I have never owned. So I pondered, “Why on earth would he want to do such a thing, when he’s done so much already?” Especially after your “heart felt” words of ever-lasting love and devotion, which would have been better placed when we were married and you were cheating on me. Perhaps you should have thought of that then, no?

Unfortunately your new girlfriend must be mighty mad that you first gave her favorite panties away, and now her electric razor. Tsk tsk. These items will, unfortunately, not be making their way back to her any time soon. The shaver was given to my brother David (for uses I dare not ask), and the panties (as I mentioned before) are headed back to the trash.

I, and the Federation for the Blind, thank you for the other things. With a nice harsh washing they’ll be good as new and ready for a new owner. I just thought perhaps I’d put you out of your misery and let you know where those things disappeared to.

Jenny

So, what do you think? Yes? No? Maybe so? Change something? Take something out? Please let me know what you think.

Oh yeah, and before I forget! Keith told me his co-workers read my blog, and yet I don’t get to read theirs? I think not! Post your links! Don’t make me hunt you down!

Oops! He did it again!

Oh yes that’s right, my friends! My ex has struck again!

Duunnn duunnnnn duuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnn!!

While most of you know about his skanky panty adventures, those of you who don’t should probably read this. You know, just for some insight.

I recieved an instant message last week some time saying that he sent 2 MORE boxes, tracking numbers, etc. Atleast this time I didn’t have to pay $300 to get them, and customs was in a good mood when I went to claim them, unlike last time. He decided that I already had my name changed and sent it to my maiden name. I’m sure he thought this would be a hassle, but my mother was all too happy to explain I was getting a divorce. Yes, air out my laundry for all, thank you mumsy! It actually made me laugh, along with the shipping guy, customs, etc etc etc. Not to mention, my aforementioned baby face. Customs was putty in my hands. So ha! Neener-neener-neener.

I couldn’t wait to see what presents I’d gotten this time. A bra to match the skanky panties? Or perhaps a garter belt? I could barely contain my excitement…. no really. I hauled the boxes into the living room, together they weighed 60-something lbs.

As I ripped open the first box I glanced in and sighed a happy sigh. It was full of shoes. All shoes! Sandals, tennis shoes, heals, … atleast 2 dozen pairs. That’s right, folks, I love shoes. Meghan, you understand. My mother was equally overjoyed until she realized I’m 2 sizes smaller than her… and then she was bummed. Infact, I would have likely missed opening the other box because I was so interested in trying on all my shoes again. Where it not for my mother, I wouldn’t have this woooonderful post to write! Alright, alright… I’m getting to it!

Here we have it, ladies and gentlemen, the wet/dry razors perfered by the skanky everywhere! I have never been a fan of the electric razor. It doesn’t shave as closely as a razor, so I’ve never gotten one. Yet… some how this one was sent to me. I can only imagine how Colin’s new skank is feeling. First her favorite panties, and now her cheap skank razor.

It’s funny how I don’t remember him being this stupid. I was in some serious denial.

I think perhaps I need to email the dreaded ex just to see what his reply would be when I tell him about the panties and razor. Hrmm… I’ll keep you updated.