My Vagina is a Wishing Well

I realized something today. Ninety percent of the guys I have had sex with have gone on to become artists, designers or find success in bands. I think my vagina may infact be a wishing well.

Now, I certainly can't go around telling people that or everyone will want to have sex with my magic box, but I find it to be a sort of super power. 

I meet these guys who basically live on their moms couch, I fuck them and usually break up with them because THEY LIVE ON THEIR MOMS COUCH and then BAM! Successful. I'm not jealous or upset that I am not there to reap the benefits of my gifts, I am proud. Like a mama bird that has kicked her baby straight out of the nest only to see it fly. 

At first I thought, maybe I just am able to choose men who have special talents and are going to be successful no matter what.  But no. Nope. These are dudes I had to hassle to get a job. Hassle to clean their room. Without my vagina of miracles they would be nowhere. I would just like to take the time to thank my box of dreams for all it has done for others because clearly those men don't understand what I've done for them. You're welcome.

Note: I have a long term boyfriend and no longer bestowing my gifts upon others. I am retired.

Another Note: My boyfriend is a responsible grown up who didn't need any of my vagina's witchery. 

                        He was already successful when I met him.

Last Note: I have added these notes incase he reads this and thinks I am including him in this rant. I

                  am not.

I Let My Simulated Caller Died

I have been doing a lot of training lately for a sexual abuse center. I am learning how to be a volunteer on the phone. Basically I have to learn to listen and be supportive. I always thought I was a good listener, turns out I'm not. Well, not to strangers. So I have been really working on my tone, my wording, not giving opinions or advice, but really listening. I thought I was doing really well. Until I had to role play with a suicidal caller. It went something like this:


Me: Are you planning to kill yourself?
Caller: I already took pills.
Me: ......
Caller:...hello?
Me:....Hi?
Caller:...I'm just so tired....
Me: Ummm...I have to call the police....
Caller: NO.
Me:...ummm.....okay


So I pretty much let a caller die. Now, it's technically not my fault because people are in charge of their own lives but...it did NOT go the way I had hoped for. I'm kinda now known as the girl who let the fake caller die. Thankfully I have put in a lot of practice and tomorrow I have my second simulated call and I am convinced to have my caller live. I cant handle another simulated death on my conscience. Even though its fake it makes me worry about when I actually get a suicidal caller. For example if one of my friends said "I just want to die", I would probably respond with "Shut your face or I will murder you." You can't say that to a stranger whos life is dangling by a thread. Somehow it doesn't come across as "caring" or "supportive".
Also saying "there there" doesn't help suicidal callers either. Just a tip from me to you.

Pizza Scissors: For Mothers Day

A few years back my mother and I came up with what we see as a million dollar idea. We invented pizza scissors. See, you can use a "pizza cutter" but they generally aren't sharp enough and you have the utensil for one purpose. We are a multi purpose generation and so we have come up with Pizza Scissors. The handles will be decorated with pizza cartoons and it's so much easier to cut with. Then I came up with the idea to branch off into spaghetti scissors. Moms always cut spaghetti for kids. Now why would someone buy Pizza Scissors and not regular scissors? Because you don't want to be cutting food items and household items with the same scissors. Obviously. So anyways, my Mom and I occasionally discuss our pizza scissor idea at family dinners. ...


The scene: me, my mom, my sister, my step dad, my two nephews and my boyfriend, Garrett.

Me: I still think pizza scissors are a million dollar idea. 

Mom: Yes! 

My sister: Oh Jesus, it's stupid. 

Me: It's genius. 

Sister: It's stupid. It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!

Me: You're just jealous you didn't think of it. 

Mom: We will be millionaires.

Me: That's right Mom! Don't let her tear you down. 

Sister: Jenn, who uses scissors to cut up a pizza?!

Me: I do. 

Mom: I do. 

Garrett: Pizza scissors are ridiculous. 

Me: You did NOT just say that. 

Mom: He just doesn't understand. 

Me: You're new to this fam jam, don't pick the wrong side. 

My sister: That's right Garrett! It is stupid! Thank you!

Garrett: Hahahaha

Me: This isn't a joke. This could be our future on the line here! You laugh now, but wait until pizza scissors is a thing! You'll see. 

Mom: We totally need to do this. 

Sister: You two are nuts.

Me: No, we are creative business women.


Update: Someone has invented pizza scissors. People around me were very unsupportive of this idea and now someone else is going to reap the benefits of what should have been known as my invention. I hate all of you.

Ace The Skeleton Bird

Yesterday I decided to work on our front garden. Since this is my first summer/spring in this house I have no idea how long its been since the front garden was cleaned up. As Im cleaning leaves and pulling weeds I saw a strange white stick thing. I figured it was weird trash and threw it aside. A few moments later I came upon what looked like a skull. I sat in on the edge of the garden and went looking for the weird stick thing because maybe it wasn't actually a stick. Once I took a good look, I realized it was a skeleton. I am a fan of skulls and the like, but when you actually find a skull and skeleton in the garden its a bit off putting. My boyfriend was out but his friend was over working on his van. (which by the way is this 70's cactus themed vehicle that is so awesome...I will include a picture sometime.) His friend verified that in was indeed a skeleton and probably a bird. Seeing as how we have a huge window above the garden it made sense that the bird had flown into it and well...crashed and died. I did some poking around and what I thought was a wing bone was actually a leg and while it was fascinating, it was a bit....gross? I figured we would throw it away but when my boyfriend returned he insisted we keep the skull. Due to the birds flying capabilities, I have decided to name him Ace. Ace's body is now in the garbage but we kept his little skull in a jar. I told my boyfriend that we can keep him but if any bad ju-ju starts happening in the house, Ace will have to have a burial.

No milk, thanks.

The other morning I went to make my cup of morning tea. This is a staple of my daily living. I wake up, lie in bed wishing I could sleep all day and then drag myself half asleep to the kitchen to make tea. I have been drinking a cup of orange pekoe tea every morning for about ten years. If there's no tea in the house, or milk I will walk around the house in my housecoat and slippers making a noise similar to  "Uggghhhhh.....".Usually my boyfriend will go to buy me a cup of tea from a coffee shop to stop the painful moaning or I accept my defeat and realize that the day will just be an utter disappointment. 

Getting back to my story, I woke and went to make my cup of glorious tea. I made my drink of happiness and set it down to cool off. My boyfriend came downstairs and started to make himself breakfast. I took a sip of my drink and realized it tasted...not as good as usual. I had to switch brands the last time I went to buy some, so perhaps I just wasn't adjusted to it. As I'm sipping and becoming increasingly concerned about my usual morning comfort, my boyfriend says "Did you use this milk?" Which can only mean one thing...its bad. "OH GOD!" was my response with a look of horror on my face and then BAM!!!...the flashback....

I was about 10 years old and had just come home for lunch. My Mom made me a bowl of Alphagetti and a tall glass of milk. I remember staring at the milk and thinking, "That doesn't look normal." 

Me: Mom, I think there's something wrong with the milk.

Mom: It's fine.

Me: It looks...weird.

Mom: Jennifer, the milk is fine.

I sat staring at that glass like it was cyanide. I ate my lunch but refused to touch the milk. 

Me: Mom, I'm serious. I think it's bad.

Mom: Jennifer! There is nothing wrong with the milk! Drink it!

At that moment I closed my eyes, grabbed the milk and took a swig. It was in my mouth for about two seconds when I realized that this could be a form of child abuse. I ran to the sink and spit it out.

Mom: What are you doing?!

Me: IT'S BAD! THE MILK IS BAD! Look at it!

I took the glass and shoved it in her face. 

Mom: Hmmm...yeah..that doesn't look good. I guess it went bad.

That moment has haunted me for my entire life. I stopped drinking milk after that. Then I found out I was lactose intolerant. Probably because I refused any milk and my body became adjusted. Or perhaps my body was so revolted by the event that it made a decision to reject it forever.

I guess the whole point of this story is that I drank bad milk the other day and I am thoroughly grossed out. Also, I will probably become obsessive with checking expiry dates and sniffing all dairy products for the rest of my life. 

When I Die, I Leave Everything to My Cats

My boyfriend is actually a good driver. He grew up outside of L.A. so he has learned how to drive aggressively in order to get where he needs to go. After being in multiple car accidents, I am very untrusting of other drivers. I am convinced they will slam on the brakes at any moment and we will die. I have never gone to get my license because I am sure that:
1. Other drivers are all crazy.
2. I am crazy.
3. My craziness will cause an accident and put other drivers at risk.
Today we had to stop off at a house he needed to see for work (he works in insurance). The traffic and highways were filled with people doing crazy things on the road. The whole time my boyfriend is moving along and I am convinced that I will be in an accident. This happens to me ALL THE TIME. So I do what any normal sane person would do, I text my friend to tell her I'm going to die and am thinking I should write a will. Thankfully I have friends who understand that my expectation to burst into flames isn't always rational so instead of worrying she simply told me that in the event that I expire, she would like to take my cats. Which I had to explain to her I do not feel comfortable with because she already has three cats and my cats wouldn't like the added stress of additional members to their gang. Cats do not like change so obviously if my boyfriend lives, he is keeping the cats. If we both die, I would like us to keep the cats living in the house with all of the death money and just pay people to take care of them. I'm pretty sure you can legally do that. (Note to self: Google legalities of leaving money to cats when dead)
When we drove past a cemetery I was pretty sure that the universe was telling me that this is the end. I did, however, arrive alive so the universe was actually just being an asshole and fucking with me.


Picture of my boyfriend as he drives:

My Very First Post

Welcome to my blog. I keep saying that I'm going to make one and I never do. Or I do make one and then never keep up with it. They say your blog should have a theme, but I change my mind every ten minutes regarding what to write about. So I will make the theme my thoughts and rants on pretty much whatever comes into my head. Pretty random, but whatever.
I also was hoping my blog would look fancy and professional but I am not tech-savy and therefore I had to settle with some pre-made layout.
Anyways, this is my blog. I will let you know a few things about myself. I live with my boyfriend and two cats. I am currently (what I like to call) "renovating my life". Or "my life is under construction". I have taken sometime off from working to focus on going back to school and figuring my life out. I am pretty lucky to have the opportunity to do this so I'm trying to really put thought into where my life should be heading. I mean, I think most of my twenties was something like "I am a raccoon staring into some headlights" or is it a deer? But you get what I mean. You're stuck and cant figure out what to do. So instead of ending up mashed into a car bumper, I decided to make a switch and move in with my boyfriend. Stay unemployed. Enroll in school. Basically take a mental vacation for a year.
Sometimes its hard because I feel like I should be so much more productive. I try to do a lot of volunteer work but its kind of awkward when people ask "So what do you do?" My response is something like "Uhmmm....I'm kinda...taking a break..." which is often met with a dead stare. But really, whats wrong with taking time off? People go away and travel for a year and that's not frowned upon. I'm doing the same thing. But staying. In one place. I don't sit in bed eating bonbons all day. Well...not EVERY day. I fill my time with taking some volunteer training programs, reading, spending time with family and friends, cleaning, hanging out with my boyfriend and our cats, I call it "no stress living".