Okay, since I do whatever other bloggers tell me to do (except post pictures of myself in my new boy-cut underwear), I went back on my way home and took a photo of the alleged home pregnancy kit.
But upon closer inspection (and by closer, I mean a sneaky hip shot photo taken while hordes of dogwalkers strolled by), I’m really not so sure.
I once again look to you, internets, to help me determine what this is.
[click to enlarge]

So with this – the first ever combination Opinion Poll *and* Mystery Photo Quiz – I beg of you… tell me! What the heck is this?
A. Home pregnancy kit – pregnant
B. Home pregnancy kit – not pregnant
C. Broken oral thermometer case
D. Broken anal thermometer case
E. Toothbrush of some sort
F. Broken potato peeler
G. Kazoo
H. Other (please explain)

19 Comments; | Filed under: Opinion Poll

Walking to the train this morning, I saw a discarded pregnancy test on the ground and for a split second, thought about checking the results.
But then I remembered that it was covered in maybe-pregnant lady pee. So I kept walking.

13 Comments; | Filed under: General

So earlier this week I was listening to iTunes, reading blogs, and eating spoonfuls of Nutella when suddenly Escape (The Piña Colada Song) came on.
My first thought was: How the hell did The Piña Colada Song get on my iTunes? And then I remembered that Dr. Greene made me a particularly diverse mix CD for my birthday a couple years ago that included such hits as Escape, Push It, and Islands in the Stream.
My second thought was: Is that really what this song is about? I had never actually listened to the lyrics, and was somewhat shocked to find out that it’s about a guy who answers a personals ad, only to find out that it was placed by his “old lady.” Then they have a good laugh and go home together, having renewed their love for one another.
My third thought was: Yeah. Because that’s exactly how I would react if I found out my “old lady” was a cheating whore.
My final thought arrived in the form of this short play:
Guy: “Wait… so you wrote this personals ad? Ohmigosh, that’s so… trashy!”
Gal: “Look who’s talking! Why are you scouring the personals ads for single women, you lying sleazebag? We were in a committed relationship!”
Guy: “Now, I’m the liar? Oh, yeah… you’re one to talk. So now you like piña coladas? Who are you kidding? You vomited for 24 hours straight that time we went to Maui.”
Gal: “Is that right? Well, why don’t you tell me about the last time you made love at midnight with anyone other than your precious remote control? And I’d love to see you even attempt to find the dunes off the cape, Mr. God-Forbid-I-Should-Ever-Ask-For-Directions.”
Guy: “Well, I guess you were honest about one thing – you’re clearly not into yoga, or any other form of physical activity…”
Gal: “Oh, don’t even get me started! I should’ve known it was you when you suggested we meet at O’Malley’s at noon. Where else can you get $1 tap beers and half-price buffalo wings before 5:00pm? Cheap bastard.”
Guy: “Forget it. I knew this was a mistake.”
Gal: “Hey, can you give me a ride home? It’s starting to rain.”

9 Comments; | Filed under: General

No, this won’t be a new weekly feature, but I figure if Dave2 is comfortable admitting that he wears women’s thongs, I can admit that I’m absolutely loving my new boy underwears. So, they’re not really boy’s underwears, but they’re boy cut.
And boy, does this cut make a difference. No matter how much I shift and shimmy, nothing’s falling out, nothing’s riding up. I’m actually doing lunge walks and dancing to Chaka Khan all around the apartment just to test them out. Once again, boys get everything cool.
Boy underwears for everyone in Jenstown!

16 Comments; | Filed under: General

It’s true, what they say. You just have to grab the bull by the horns. Opportunity only knocks once. And sometimes, that opportunity comes in the form of a block of homemade cheese. I’ve come to realize that my friends and I tend to have a lot of big ideas that rarely come to fruition. Business ventures, artistic endeavors, spiritual reawakenings – they are all brilliant in concept, but lack one fundamental thing: a clear plan.
Fail to plan and you plan to fail, as my 8th grade health teacher always said, and this time, I plan to succeed. This time, I’m not going to let anything get in the way of achieving my dream of creating a new community, unlike any we’ve ever seen. This community – Jenstown – will be founded on the core concepts of personal independence and self-reliance, wrapped in a shroud of blind faith and unquestioning devotion to one leader.
To that end, I am now looking for a few like-minded and dedicated individuals to get in on the ground floor of what will prove to be the most radical social concept since the creation of the flash mob.
All interested candidates should contact me directly, including the job title and brief description of your qualifications. No recruiters, please.
Open Positions:
Apprentice cheese-maker
Requirements: No experience necessary. On-the-job training provided.
Bard/Minstrel
Requirements: Professional presentation skills. Must be willing to travel 50% of time.
Child Bearer
Requirements: High standards of personal integrity and ethics, and fertile womb. Carrier of dominant curly-haired gene (preferred).
Falconer
Requirements: 3-5 years experience in feeding and caring for birds of prey. Knowledge of bandaging and wrapping wounds a plus.
Town Whore
Requirements: Ability to simultaneously manage several projects while interacting with several different people from within and outside of our community. Potential for position to develop into part-time child bearer.
Gossip Monger (2 positions available)
Requirements: Keen observer and good listener. Excellent oral communication and interpersonal skills.

25 Comments; | Filed under: General

I’m not ashamed to admit it – sometimes grade school humor is just what the doctor ordered, and ever since my friend Natasha introduced me to this clip, it has become part of our everyday conversation.

Me: Hey Nat. Ah don’t know yew!
Nat: Thass mah purse!
Both: [uncontrollable laughter]
Me: Cool. So, drinks tonight?
Nat: Sure. I hope someone tries to steal my purse just so I can say that.
Me: Ohmigod, I would totally crack up.
Both: Thass mah purse!
Both: [stifled laughter, then sigh]

10 Comments; | Filed under: General

“Hey Jen, it’s Nat. Farnsworth and I might grab a drink later. Want to join us?”
“Can’t. I’m making cheese tonight.”
“Okay, I’m assuming that’s a euphemism, but I’m not sure I really want to know.”
I then explained that by “making cheese,” I meant that I was, in fact, making cheese. The kind you eat. So I suppose that “making cheese” could be a euphemism. A euphemism for “changing the course of my entire life and finally realizing why I was put on this earth.”
I just never knew. I never knew that a regular urbanite like me could actually create food from other food. I made cheese with nothing more than milk and lemon juice, and that seemingly simple act taught me perhaps the greatest lesson of my entire life: I don’t need anyone anymore.
All my life – or really, ever since I saw the rerun of that PBS special called Frontier House last year– I’ve dreamed of moving away, far from civilization, but the one thing that kept me chained here was the nagging question: “But where will I get my cheese?”
Now I no longer need to wonder.
This is also an “in your face” to all my friends who loved to tease me while playing the cruel game of “If we were all stranded on a deserted island, who would die first?” Dee-Dee and Vivian would always battle over which of them could survive the longest. Dee bragged about all her camping trips as a child. Vivian would flaunt the fact that she could go longer than any of us without a shower. But in the end, no matter what order they ultimately settled on, one thing was always the given – Jenny would die first.
I never went camping as a child, have high maintenance hair, and have major issues with the idea of going to the bathroom outside. But what they always ignored was the fact that Dee-Dee gets squeamish eating meat on a bone, and Vivian’s diet consists almost entirely of hummus and pita. I come from Sicilian stock, and grew up cracking open chicken bones and sucking out the rich marrow. Now that I can make cheese, too, I think it’s clear who would survive. All I need is a cow. Or a goat. Or a sheep. And a lemon tree. Maybe a lighter. And a kettle. And a few yards of cheesecloth. And some Tupperware.
It’s just like the scriptures say: Give a woman some cheese and she’ll eat for a day. Teach a woman to make cheese and she’ll finally be able to stick it to the man, sell off all her worldly possessions, move into a cozy little cave somewhere in the woods, and ultimately spawn her own society of curly-haired savages.
If any of you are interested in joining my new sect – Jenstown – here’s how you can get started:
Step 1: Arrange all the ingredients on your stove in an aesthetically pleasing manner.


Step 2: Slowly heat the milk until it almost comes to a boil.

Step 3: Add lemon juice and stir until the curds separate from the whey.

Step 4: Try to control your gag reflex as you watch the curdled milk rise to the top.

Step 5: Let the curds and whey cool for a few minutes.

Step 6: Strain the curds and whey into the cheesecloth.

Step 7: Gather the curds up into a ball and run under cool water. Squeeze out excess whey.

Step 8: Shape curds into a block.

Step 9: Place a heavy weight on top of the cheese to remove remaining whey. Let sit for a few hours.

Step 10: Remove paneer from the cheesecloth.

Step 11: Discover that paneer has no natural flavor, so put on top of a Triscuit and add salt.

18 Comments; | Filed under: General

Dear Internets,
As hard as it to give you my notice, I’m afraid I just can’t do this anymore. This little experiment of ours has ceased to be enjoyable for me. I began this journey for a lot of different personal reasons, but more than anything, because I wanted to challenge myself. And what a challenge this has been, but now it’s time for me to throw in the towel and just say, “I quit.”

Read more »

22 Comments; | Filed under: General

A progress report:
Day 1.5:



Day 2:



Day 3:



Day 3.5:



[reward]

15 Comments; | Filed under: General

I glanced down at the clock on my computer and realized that my train was leaving in exactly seven minutes. I glanced up at the unread emails that had piled up in my inbox while I was in meetings all day long.
Even if I run, there’s no way I’ll make it. Damn.
I had reached the point in the evening when my train only runs every hour, so I knew I was stuck in the office for a while. Stomach growling, I grabbed some change from my desk drawer and headed over to the kitchen in search of some vending treats.
The first thing that caught my eye was a tasty Twix, my candy bar of choice, but I decided I should get something slightly healthier. My attention was drawn toward the bright packaging of the “30% Less Fat!” Harvest Cheddar Multigrain Sun Chips I always saw the athletic set eating, so I dropped in my $0.65, fully expecting what happened next. The coils spun slowly, my chips nearing the ledge, only to stop short of dropping. I was unfazed since this happens 7 out of 10 times in this machine, but annoyed because I had to walk back to my desk to get another $0.65.
After sliding another few coins into the slot, the second bag started to push out the first one, according to plan, but suddenly stopped short of full release.
Oh, come on!
Usually a good hip check will free a precariously positioned snack, but a few slams later, nothing had budged. I listened for a second to make sure everyone had left the office, then grabbed the top of the machine and tried to rattle it like I’d seen a couple of burly coworkers do before. The machine shifted slightly, but not enough to free my $1.30 dinner from its grasp.
Just as I was about to pull harder, I had a flash of the night janitor finding my body pinned underneath the vending machine, toes slightly curled like that unfortunate easterly witch. Could there be anything more humiliating than to be found crushed under a vending machine at work, all because I couldn’t live without that $0.65 bag of chips? I think not. Except perhaps being found naked and crushed under a vending machine at work, but my company has strict dress code policies, so that scenario was highly unlikely.
I paused for a minute with my head against the plastic of the vending machine. It was slightly warm from the bright lights that had beckoned me near, and as I tapped my head lightly, I contemplated my options.
I should just walk away. I’m not even that hungry anymore. NO! That’s what it wants you to think!
Now this was a game. A game of strategy and patience. Man versus machine. Who could hold out longer? I had a whole wallet full of singles and another 45 minutes before I had to leave for my train. I went back to my desk and grabbed five crisp $1 bills.
As I fed the next dollar into the machine, I suddenly understood why those little women sit in front of the same slot machines in the casinos, hour after hour, no matter how much money they lose.
It’s bound to hit sooner or later. I feel it. It’s time. My time.
I slowly punched in 124 on the keypad, careful not to slip and accidentally buy those rainbow Twizzlers in 126. The metal coil spun steadily and the chips inched further and further toward the edge, but then instead of dropping down, they began to fan upwards, pinned against the shelf above.
Oh you have got to be kidding me! What the hell – are they sewn together!? Bitch, I am not walking away with three bags of chips hanging there!
Another uneventful hip check, one paced lap around the kitchen with my hands on my head to gain my composure, and I was pulling out another dollar to feed my nemesis. I would have paid $20 for those chips at that point, because it had become a matter of principle. Fortunately, I didn’t have to test my mettle because with the fourth dollar, all four bags of Sun Chips exploded against the plastic and slid down to the slot below.
I scooped up the bags of chips in my arms, again praying that no late night colleagues would see me walking through the hall with a bushel of snacks, and returned to my desk.
Now I don’t need to buy snacks all week. Yeah, sucker. Who did you think you were dealing with?
I tossed the three spare bags of chips in my file drawer and ripped open the original one. I admired the unique waffle shape for a second, then popped an entire chip into my now salivating mouth.
Oh. Oh god. These taste like… shit!
I thought that maybe I had just gotten a bad chip, like when you bite into a burnt peanut M&M, so I gave it another shot. But the second tasted even worse than the first, its garlicky gritty debris building up in my molars and under my tongue. I quickly took a swig of water and swished it around to remove all remnants of this $2.60 disaster.
I guess I should have known by the name alone that they would be bad. Harvest Cheddar? I mean, I’m from Wisconsin. We don’t harvest cheese. What does that even mean? Cheese doesn’t grow in fields. It ferments in caves, or… something like that.
Harvest Cheddar. If by Harvest, they meant Pile of, and if by Cheddar, they meant Crap, then yes, this was definitely Harvest Cheddar. I would even go so far as to say that this tasted like a Huge Steaming Harvest Cheddar.
And I was now the proud owner of four bags of it.
I threw the open bag of Sun Chips in my trash and went back to scanning my emails. Eventually I glanced down at the clock on my computer and realized it was time to catch my train. As I cut through the kitchen on my way out, I tossed the three remaining bags of Harvest Cheddar Multigrain Sun Chips on the table.
This time I had lost, but luckily for me, what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen.

13 Comments; | Filed under: General