enviro-nazis

I have to admit I was not ready for this bit of stunning stupidity this afternoon.

Creating a massive fire to protect the environment is like killing to abolish the death penalty. What's worse is that the homebuilders were actually trying to use green building practices. Regular terrorists aren't enough; we need eco-terrorists too! Way to go, ELF!

to creepy myspace guy

Dear Creepy MySpace Guy,

I appreciate the enthusiasm with which you've pursued a friendship with me. It's admirable that you'd want to be my BFF when you've never even met me, simply because you know the guy who is marrying a friend who I met through another friend. I accepted your friend request because of your seemingly normal "Hi, how's it going? I'm an Aggie too." But that was months ago. And although you initially recognized that I am a stranger...and a married one at that, you have since level-jumped your way to inviting me to tailgate parties, hanging out at The Chicken, and even attending the occasional house party...each time punctuating your messages with YEE HAWs, GIG EMs, and OOH DOGGIEs. You'd think that my utter silence in response to your messages would help you to realize my complete lack of interest in being your drinking buddy, but alas, you're oblivious. So aside from spelling it out for you in this post, how else can I make myself clear? Help me help you.

Sincerely,
Jennifer

the apocalypse

I've voluntarily shopped on Black Friday at 6:30 am. I've braved the mall the morning of December 26th. I've even volunteered at Food Pantry Thanksgiving Basket distribution. But nothing...nothing....could prepare me for Junior League Bargain Blitz this morning.

My shift was to begin promptly at 8 am, so I peeled myself out of bed at about 7:40, threw on my red JL shirt, and drove to the community center. I should've been prepared when I saw the line of salivating scavengers stretched down the sidewalk, to the street, and halfway through the enormous parking lot - itching for the doors to open. But somehow I didn't fully grasp what was in store. I entered through the loading dock, put on my beautiful red Bargain Blitz smock, and awaited instruction. I was told that I would be a "floater". Gross name, but apparently a coveted job. All I was supposed to do was wander around and pick up items that had fallen on the floor, rehang clothes, clean up spills or broken glass. Fine. Sounds lovely.

So off I went to the middle of the clothing section and waited. Suddenly I heard a JL lady yell, "The doors are open!" It was the tone of her voice that worried me. It was less an informative statement, and more as if she were warning us of the impending apocalypse. Then there was a rumble...the ground began to vibrate...and through the double doors came a tsunami of half-crazed bargain hunters. It was like watching a stampede of spooked cattle. Women in their sixties were running over small children to stake their claim on a crappy "Hoppy Easter" wall hanging in Seasonal that cost 75 cents. A band of old women on Rascals busted through the Housewares like the Hell's Angels, tossing random knick-knacks in their baskets and knocking down everything in their path. Two granola hippies in Crocs were playing tug-of-war with a Tae-Bo video. I dove under the table, curled up into a ball, and began rocking back and forth with my eyes closed trying to find my happy place.

It wasn't long until one of the Blitz committee members found me and asked me to help in check out. Reluctantly, I left my post and bear-crawled my way to the check out area. I was immediately flagged down by the lady holding down the line to check out. And by "line" I mean rabid mob. "Can you hold the line while I go take some pictures?" she asked sweetly. I told her I was not the best choice for crowd control; I was much better at taking pictures. I was serious. She just laughed. *Disclaimer: for those who don't know me, I am 5'4", about 125 lbs., and physically can't raise my voice above a murmur. I am about as intimidating as a girl scout.

So there I was, trying to herd the mob one person at a time to each of the five check out lines in an orderly, non-violent fashion. The check out girls watched in horror as the mob began to crowd me and pull me under, like Jaws. One lumbering boob was apparently standing behind me as I tried to determine who was next and finally craned his ugly mug over my head to make me aware of his presence. I said, "I'm sorry sir, but there are a lot of people here. I can't tell what order you're in if you're behind me." He and his wife complained to one of the overwhelmed committee members that I was rude to them. They seemed to care tremendously. Firing me from Junior League was moved to the top of their priority list right above cleaning up the pool of blood, teeth, and cheap hair extensions in Childrens' Toys. Morons.

Anycrap, about 11:30, I directed the last person to the last cashier. It was over. I survived. The cashiers and I looked at each other and laughed. "It's never been that bad before!" they all said. I'm just lucky I guess. It was then that I realized: that lady ditched me! Taking pictures...whatever. She's officially on my list.

So this is what I learned today: Bargain Blitz will never be my placement, I will never be coerced to do crowd control again, and next year I'm bringing a taser.

-Fin-

this just in...

Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. As you might've guessed from my last post, I've been a little busy.

But I'm feeling all special today because one of my favorite bloggers, who has a real live blog that people read, pretended to like me enough to not only comment on my sad little blog (something that even my friends who read this thing barely do) but add me as a stalker - I mean friend - on Facebook.

See Jenny? You got Kawasakied; I got Bloggessed. It's the circle of life. Thanks for making me feel validated.

addict

Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Jennifer and I'm an overcommiter...

I never meant for this problem to get so out of hand. I started off just getting Second Job to help pay the bills. I mean, after all, they came to me. I wasn't looking for another job. Then I was asked to join Junior League. Seems harmless enough. I mean, it's not like there's something going on every night.

Then my former employer begged me to become an ambassador for the Chamber of Commerce because, well, I know everything there is to know about the Chamber. Not to mention, so many of my friends are still involved. Boss 1 and 2 think it's a great program and they're paying for it...why not!

Then a friend in Junior League asked me to write a couple of articles for a local magazine. Well, okay, maybe just a couple. It's not like I'll do this every month. And she did ask really nicely. Oh and you want me to take over planning our 10 year high school reunion? Well, I am one of the few who still live here... and I do have a lot of helpful contacts here. Sounds fun!

I knew I had hit rock bottom today when I found myself seriously considering using vacation days from First Job to meet my deadlines for Second and Third Job. I closed the door to my office, curled up in the fetal position, and cried like a little girl.

sore back

It seems like I am perpetually loaded down like a pack mule - no matter where I go.

Most people at my office are walking in the door empty-handed. I walk in balancing a purse, a camera case, a notebook, a McDonald's bag, a drink and an extra set of keys...all the while gingerly wobbling on heels in the 45-degree-angled parking lot.

When I come home and walk in the door, I'm usually carrying the purse, the keys, the notebook, maybe some groceries, sometimes dinner for two in a sack, a couple of drinks...and I'm still in heels.

Even at the gym, where you're supposed to be empty-handed, I walk in with my phone, both sets of keys, my IPod, and my hoodie.

Maybe I need to consolidate...or maybe this is just a sign that I am a little too much of a multitasker.

gym-nast-ic

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, gyms sick me out. It isn't as if I'm a complete germaphobe, but think about it: hundreds of sweaty people sitting on the same equipment with their sweaty butts day after day.

And how 'bout those yoga mats....*shudder*? You don't even have to use your imagination on that one. I once went to an Extreme Abs class right after a yoga class. Without a care in the world, I picked up a mat, set it down, laid in the crunch position, and heard a squish. The mat was actually still wet. UGHHH! Needless to say, I tossed the mat and used the hardwood floor.

My gym has started offering disinfectant to wipe down equipment with, and I've taken advantage. And what I witnessed yesterday was just a reminder why. While I was stretching, I noticed a woman wandering around who was obviously new to the gym. First of all, she was wearing Crocs, which should never be worn at all - much less as athletic footwear. Second, she was examining each piece of the circuit training equipment as if it were an exhibit in an art museum. She finally found a machine that didn't completely befuddle her, so she decided to give it a whirl. So what was the first thing she did? SHE KICKED OFF HER SHOES! That's right. She was using the equipment barefooted. I threw up a little in my mouth.

Hey, I'm not the only one who thinks gyms are gross...Newsweek just did a story on it.