“And so then I went into his office and said, ‘Look, I’m doing the work of two peop-‘”
“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry – I don’t mean to cut you off, but I just realized what time it is.”
“Do you have to go?”
“Yeah, I need to write something tonight.”
“What are you writing about?”
“Ugh, I have no idea. I’m all work-stressed, so I don’t have anything funny or interesting to say.”
“Post a picture – that always works in a pinch.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know. Something. How about a puppy?”

“A puppy? I don’t even have dogs. Why would I do that?”
“Well, then how about a kitten? Post a picture of your cats – people love small animals and babies.”

“Mmm, I don’t know. I don’t really have a nice picture of my cats. Their eyes always do that glowing thing in photos, you know?”
“Okay, well then your last option is a baby. No one can resist a baby. Ooh – I know! How about a baby holding a puppy?”
“That just seems really cheap. I don’t know, I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“All right, good luck. Talk to you later!”
“Okay, bye!”

23 Comments; | Filed under: General

From the moment I started down this path a few weeks ago, my decision weighed on me like a giant albatross around my neck. But unlike the ancient mariner, my burden was an invisible one. No one understood why I had been walking hunched over these past few weeks, my gait unsteady, dragged down by an unseen obligation. There was no rotting carcass swaying on my chest to explain why I was so out of sorts. Perhaps that would have been easier.
As I lumbered back to my apartment each evening after work, I felt thick. So many times I wanted to give up, quit, throw it all away. What did it mean, anyway? Would anyone even know if I just chucked it all out the window? Who would care? I would take in a sharp breath just before putting the key in the lock… and turn.
I stopped returning phone calls. When I did respond to emails, it was always to say that I had some errands to run, a project for work to finish, a family obligation. I can’t see you right now. I’d love to, but I have to do this thing. Soon, though, I promise.
But somehow, in spite of this all, every time I wanted to admit defeat and curl up into a tight ball on the kitchen floor, my head resting in a bowl of half-eaten cat food, I would hear a voice inside me. And the voice – which oddly enough sounded not like my own, but like that of Mrs. Garrett from The Facts of Life – would say, “But, Jenny, you gave them your word.”
My word.
I did, didn’t I? And a woman without her word is not much of a woman at all. So I kept on, pursuing to the next stop. Which led me here. You brought me through and out. And for giving me the strength and courage to persevere, I have no way to repay you, other than to fulfill my destiny and give you this:

Read more »

25 Comments; | Filed under: General

Setting:
Greasy spoon, Chicago, Fall 2005
Characters:
Dear – 50-ish heavyset woman with short blonde hair
Sweetie – 30-ish poorly-dressed woman with curly hair
Honey – 50-ish nondescript man with dark mustache
Dear: “You don’t smoke, do you Sweetie?”
Sweetie [looking up from grilled cheese and notebook]: “Me? No.”
Dear: “Oh good, then I can sit here. Nothing worse than trying to enjoy a meal and having someone blow smoke in your face. Thanks, Sweetie.”
Sweetie: “My pleasure.”
Dear: “Honey, did you get some napkins? See if you can find some napkins. I want to wipe off the table.”
Honey: “Okay, Dear.”
Dear [leaning over toward Sweetie’s table]: “Would you mind if I stole one of your napkins? They forgot to wipe off our table.”
Sweetie: “Not at all, here you go.”
Dear: “Thanks, Sweetie. I’m kind of a clean freak.”
Sweetie [smiling]: “There are a lot worse problems to have.”
Dear [laughs]: “You’ve got that right. I just like things a certain way. Whenever my husband takes the pillow off the couch, I make him put it back just the way it was. I just like things a certain way.”
Honey: “Here’s some napkins. They said our order should be up in a minute.”
Dear: “I was just telling her how I always make you put the pillow back on the couch just the way it was, don’t I? Everything back the way it was.”
Honey: “Yes, you do, Dear.”
Dear: “I have… what do they call it when you like things a certain way? A compulsive? Compulsion?”
Sweetie [trying to swallow large bite of grilled cheese]: “OCD?”
Dear: “Yeah. Compulsion.”
Honey: “Here comes our food.”
Dear: “Oh good. I am so hungry. Are you hungry?”
Honey: “Not much.”
Dear: “Not much? Not much hungry? I sure am. Oh Honey, they forgot to give me honey mustard sauce. Can you go ask if they’ve got honey mustard sauce? I don’t like the hot sauce. Tastes like vinegar.”
Honey: “Yes, Dear.”
Dear: “Well, enjoy your lunch, Sweetie.”
Sweetie: “Thanks! Same to you.”

6 Comments; | Filed under: General

Dear Coughing Woman:
For the past week and a half I have been sitting at my desk trying to do work and read important online journals which are more commonly known as Web logs, or “blogs,” but my train of thought is constantly interrupted by your incessant coughing.
I am not a doctor, but it sounds to me like you are in the final stages of consumption, which concerns me greatly. I don’t really know what consumption is, but I seem to recall that a lot of famous writers from the olden days died of it, so you can see why I’m a bit worried. Also, I saw you eating chicken in the lounge the other day, so there is the distinct possibility that you have the avian flu as well.
I know we don’t know each other, in fact, I don’t even know what department you work for, so I hope this letter doesn’t seem out of line. If I did know what department you worked for, I would most certainly speak to your vice president and tell him/her how appalled I am at the fact that his/her department doesn’t allow its employees to take sick days. I can only assume that sick days are strictly verboden where you work, or certainly you would not subject this many people to your open mouthed barking for hours on end.
Given that you are obviously being forced to come to work each day, no matter how sick you are, I felt it necessary to call a few things to your attention. As you know, everyone on this side of the building shares one kitchen area, and on numerous occasions I have witnessed you moistly coughing into your hand, rubbing your nose and then:
1. Grabbing the doorknob to the kitchen
2. Opening the refrigerator
3. Touching the microwave
4. Pressing several buttons on the pop machine
5. Licking clean the surface of every table
Perhaps I didn’t actually witness that last one, but based on your fondness for spreading disease, it seemed a logical assumption.
Over the past week and a half, I have also noticed that several other people in your immediate vicinity have started coughing as well, which leads me to believe that there is an outbreak of consumption in the area which must be contained immediately. As I mentioned before, I’m not a doctor, so I did a quick Google search of “quarantine procedures” and found what appears to be a helpful article from the University of Michigan.
Starting this afternoon, we will be instituting these procedures until it is determined that there is no further threat of contamination. Since this article was targeted more toward rodents than corporate employees, I have made the appropriate text edits to make this more relevant to our situation.
Rodent Incessant Coughing Employee Quarantine Procedures
All rodents employees shipped to the University of Michigan Valhalla Inc. from other institutions or non-approved vendors must go through quarantine procedures before being housed in other animal rooms animal rooms. This is necessary to avoid the possible introduction of infectious agents into the University of Michigan Valhalla Inc. rodent facilities kitchen.
Quarantine Entry Procedures

I heard a tap on the glass and looked up from my desk. She was standing at the door, holding a brown paper bag and a silver bowl. My eyes lit up as I smiled and waved.
“Class, if you haven’t finished yet, you can set aside your spelling worksheets for now. We have a special guest – Jenny’s mom is here, and she has a treat for us all.”
I think the teacher might have said something else, but no one could hear her over the clamor of papers rustling, girls giggling, and metal scraping against linoleum as we rearranged our desks in a circle.
My mother had volunteered to come to my class and tell a story, so I had waited eagerly all day for her to arrive. She set the silver bowl down on a desk and then pulled out a giant red fruit from her bag. She then passed it around so we could all look at it before she began her story, which was the tale of Persephone.
After collecting the strange fruit back from the students, she rolled it in her hands and then placed it carefully in the silver bowl before scooting her chair in closer to the circle.
“The Greek god Zeus and the goddess of the harvest Demeter had a beautiful daughter named Persephone,” she told us.
“Persephone loved to help her mother in the fields, planting and tending to the crops. Over the years, the god of the underworld, Hades, would watch Persephone as she worked outside, and eventually he fell in love with her because she was so beautiful. Hades asked Zeus if he could marry his daughter, but Zeus refused because he knew how much her mother would miss her.”
We all listened attentively as my mother continued her story. She told us that one day, while Persephone was out picking flowers, Hades kidnapped her and took her down into the underworld to make her his wife.
When Demeter discovered that Persephone had been kidnapped, she stopped taking care of the crops so she could look for her daughter. Everything started to die, and people began to starve.
“Why didn’t she take care of the crops?”
“Because she was so sad. She missed her daughter so much, and she had to find her no matter what,” my mother answered.
“When Persephone was in the underworld, Hades offered her all kinds of wonderful feasts, but she wouldn’t eat anything. She didn’t want to take any food from Hades because she was afraid of him. But one day, Persephone got so hungry that she snuck into Hades’ garden and ate just six tiny seeds from a pomegranate.”
“Like that one!”
“Exactly.”
At this point, my mother stopped her story and asked me to help her with the pomegranate. She sliced the fruit in half, and held it up for everyone to see. The dark red seeds rest like little jewels in a honeycomb. It reminded me of the geode my uncle brought me from Florida – when he cracked it open, there were beautiful purple crystals inside.

She cut the fruit again into quarters and handed them to me. I pulled the seeds out, one by one, and put them into the silver bowl. They made a soft cracking sound as I pried each one out of its tight grip. When I had removed all the seeds, I passed the bowl around the classroom, and my mother told everyone to take a few to eat.
“But what part do you eat?” someone asked.
“You eat the whole thing – even the little white seed inside. It won’t hurt you.”
“Do I have to eat that part?”
My mother laughed, “No. You don’t have to eat the whole thing, but at least try it. The juice is delicious!”
I placed a seed into my mouth, bit down, and winced a little as the tart juice burst onto my tongue. I ate the whole thing, just like my mother said we could. The next one was much sweeter.

As we finished eating the pomegranate, my mother continued her story, “Zeus tried to get his daughter back from the underworld, but Hades told him that since she had eaten six pomegranate seeds, Persephone would have to stay there with him and be his wife. So for six months of the year, Persephone had to live with Hades. Then for the other six months, she could go home and be with her mother. So every year, when Persephone had to go back to the underworld, Demeter would get terribly sad, and she would let all the crops die. And that’s why all the trees lose their leaves and the plants die in the fall and winter.”
“Because her mother is sad?”
“Yes, because she misses her daughter so much that she can’t take care of any of the crops. And then when Persephone comes back every spring, Demeter is so happy that she plants the fields and makes everything grow again.”
My classmates asked a few more questions while my mother cleaned up the pomegranate remains and wiped out the bowl. As she was packing up to go home, a girl leaned over to me and asked, “How come your mom knows all this?”
I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know. She just knows lots of stuff.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, and ’cause she’s a gypsy.”
“Really?”
“She is?”
“What’s a gypsy?”
I didn’t answer. As my mother left the classroom, she winked at me and waved goodbye to the class. I waved back, my hand still stained red from the pomegranate.

20 Comments; | Filed under: General

By Dr. Jenny Amadeo, PhD, Human Relations and Sexual Development
I know what some of you are thinking. You’re saying to yourself, “Sure Jenny has a PhD in Human Relations and Sexual Development, but is that really even an actual area of specialization? And even if it is, how can she, with her PhD in Human Relations and Sexual Development, help me identify who I am most attracted to?”
Well, first of all, you ended that question with a preposition. But whatever. Secondly, I resent the implication that my degree is something I just made up on the “L” ride home last week. If you really knew what you were talking about, you would know that I don’t even take the “L” home anymore. I ride the Metra, as I have for almost the past year. So there goes your theory out the window.
Moving on to the second and actually sensible part of your question, you want to know how I can help you identify your ideal mate, is that right? Well, fortunately, most of you took the quiz from last week. If you didn’t, there’s still time, but only if you stop reading right now and go here. Then come back to us. Go. Now. Bunch of Johnny Come Lately’s.
For those of you who did take the quiz, I need to preface this report by saying that you may disagree with my findings, but just know that as a scientist, everything I tell you is truthful and accurate. I looked at the facts, followed the trends, analyzed and dissected the data, and discovered that all attraction comes down to simple choices.
Through your raw honesty and deep self-examination, you have helped further science in the area of Human Relations and Sexual Development. So I thank you all for your willing participation in this study, and must admit that I have never been more attracted to you than I am right at this moment. Call me?

The Rules of Attraction: Research Findings

METHODOLOGY
Subjects were placed in a controlled web-based environment and presented with a series of choices. They were instructed to select the option to which they found themselves most attracted. Choices were:

1. Circle or square
2. Bear or wolf
3. Sun or moon
4. Crocodile or cobra
5. Solid, liquid or vapor

Results were tabulated and analyzed by an independent laboratory in a controlled whiskey-based environment in northern Chicago.
STATISTICS
Number of respondents (including Natasha and Dr. Amadeo):
30
Demographics:
Male = 23%
Female = 74%
Unknown = 3% (1 anonymous)
Responses:
Circle = 53%
Square = 47%
Bear = 55%
Wolf = 45%
Sun = 30%
Moon = 70%
Cobra = 52%
Crocodile = 48%
Solid = 21%
Liquid = 38%
Vapor = 41%
Most Popular Choices:
Circle
Bear
Moon
Cobra
Vapor
PERSONALITY TRAITS
At the most basic level, each option within these pairs is inherently either masculine or feminine.
Masculine:
Square
Bear
Sun
Crocodile
Solid
Feminine:
Circle
Wolf
Moon
Cobra
Liquid/Vapor
In addition, each option has certain personality traits associated with it, which drive our attraction toward each. Whether consciously or not, respondents found themselves drawn toward the characteristics that each of these options possess.
Square = stable, pragmatic, mechanical
Circle = emotional, open, artistic
Bear = fun-loving, outgoing, strong
Wolf = aloof, mysterious, wild
Sun = healthy, friendly, extroverted
Moon = romantic, elusive, noncommittal
Crocodile = aggressive, bold, athletic
Cobra = manipulative, clever, flexible
Solid = reliable, honest, rational
Liquid = adaptable, creative, passionate
Vapor = evasive, shy, mystical
As any good researcher on a tight budget will do, I used myself as the first subject, and my choices were Square, Wolf, Moon, Cobra, Liquid. This means that I am most attracted to people who are mechanical, mysterious, romantic, clever, and creative. “But, Jenny,” you’re thinking. “Some of these traits contradict each other. How can you be attracted to someone who’s both stable and elusive?”
And to that, my response is that clearly you and I have never dated, or you would know that I am attracted to all sorts of things that contradict each other. Be more attentive! Give me my space! Tell me how you feel! Stop being such a crybaby!
KEY FINDINGS
Based on their responses, study participants were grouped into three different categories based on the personality traits they find most attractive. This means that these individuals should all meet each other and hang out at the bars together, since they clearly are attracted to the same types of people. Or conversely, it means that they should avoid each other at all costs, for fear of having their mates stolen by backstabbing bloggers with similar tastes. (I only present the data, what you do with it is up to you.)
Please note: the label for each group indicates the type of person to whom they are most attracted, and does not necessarily reflect their own personality.
The Grounded
Kevin
Asia
Mateo
The Ethereal
Romy
Nicole
Shari
Tracy Kaply
Roy
Karen
Darby
Strode
Jessica
Dr. Amadeo
The Conflicted The Hermaphrodite The Balanced
Stationary Queen
Cee
The Scarlett
Number4of5
Sarah
Roxie
Christie
Nina
Junebug
Dr. G
Brando
Teahouseblossom
Fiorello La Guardia
Anonymous
Cheryl
Jill
Natasha
CONCLUSIONS

1. Women like to take personality quizzes more than men.

2. With a few notable exceptions (ahem…), the majority of respondents like structure and rules.
3. Very few respondents are attracted to mates who are grounded.
4. Many respondents seek conflict.
5. Most bloggers fear the sun.
6. My friend Vivian needs to change that “I don’t like quizzes” attitude if she ever wants to meet someone nice.
7. Respondents are mostly a bunch of softies and romantics.
8. Nina is really impatient.
9. I should really let my subscription to Cosmo run out.
10. I think squares are hot.
11. I would make out with a wolf, right here, right now.

My next study is about the effects of excessive blogging on libido, so if you are over the age of 21 and a non-smoker, please contact my research assistant to set up an appointment to participate in this important study.

22 Comments; | Filed under: General

“You didn’t think he was cute? I totally thought he was cute.”
“That one guy from the other night? Really? You found him attractive?”
“Definitely, in kind of a non-traditional way, I guess. An angular way. I like angles.”
“Apparently. So you’re saying you like square.”
“Yes, I suppose I do like square. And you like circle, don’t you? Yeah, you’re definitely more circle.”
“Absolutely.”
I leaned back in my chair a bit, looking up and to the right like I do when I’m deep in thought, then continued, “Hmm. I wonder if there’s a theory to be developed here. Maybe romantic attraction all comes down to circle versus square. I’m going to work on this a little.”
“Can’t wait.”
I brushed the potato chip crumbs off my fingers, jotted down a few quick thoughts in my ever-present notebook, and then shifted my focus to the turkey and brie sandwich sitting patiently on my plate. Later that day on my train ride home, instead of reviewing the TV Guide section of the Tribune to see what time America’s Next Top Model started, I worked to broaden my theory a bit. Choices. Circle/Square. Either/Or. Attraction/Repulsion. What did it all mean?
By the time my train arrived at my stop, I had a rough concept, but I needed more empirical evidence. Immediately upon returning to my apartment, I called Natasha to continue the study now that I had developed my hypothesis a bit further.
“Okay Nat. Remember today at lunch when we were talking about circle or square? I have a few more questions for you. I just need you to clear your mind and go with your gut reaction when I ask you these. Don’t over think it, okay?”
“I’m ready.”
“Okay, here we go: bear or wolf?”
“Wait – so what exactly am I supposed to answer? Which would win? Which I like better?”
“No, no. It’s all about attraction. Which are you more attracted to? Which would you rather date?”
“Oh, then bear, for sure.”
“Good. Sun or moon?”
“Sun.”
“Mmm hmm. Cobra or crocodile?”
“Is this to find out if I like arms or not? Because that’s a hard cho-”
“You’re thinking too much. Just go with your gut. Which would you rather marry, cobra or crocodile?”
“Uh… crocodile, I guess.”
“Okay, now why did you say that?”
“I just think a crocodile would be a better provider. I mean, what kind of job can a cobra get with no arms or legs?”
“Nat! You’re still being too rational. Just go with your absolute first instinct. Okay, this is the last one: solid, liquid or vapor?”
“That one has three choices. Why don’t you ask me hamburger or hot dog?”
“Don’t be absurd. Just answer the question – would you rather date solid, liquid or vapor?”
“Well, liquid, I think.”
“Really? Liquid? That surprises me. I totally had you pegged as a solid. These findings are highly unexpected.”
“Yeah, I figured that one might shock you. Wait – what the hell does any of this mean, anyway? Is this some sort of psychological profile? Is this like the Myers-Briggs thing? Let me try it again.”
“I’m not really sure yet. I need to get some more data before I can really see what types of conclusions can be drawn. I’m going to need to expand my sample size.”
Which leads me to my next Weekly Opinion Poll (and yes, it has been brought to my attention that in order to call something ‘weekly,’ I really need to do it every week. Fine, so we’ll call it ‘Sporadic Opinion Poll.” Better?):
Question: Which are you more attracted to?*
1. Circle or square?
2. Wolf or bear?
3. Sun or moon?
4. Cobra or crocodile?
5. Solid, liquid or vapor?
*Go with your absolute gut reaction on these. It’s crucial to the integrity of this scientific study. If I suspect you’ve been using logic or ration or Google to decide, I will have no choice but to exclude your responses. I am a woman of science, after all.

44 Comments; | Filed under: Opinion Poll

Heavy duty box cutter: $9.99

Black duct tape: $4.89

Two cans of black enamel spray paint: $9.98

Dual temperature hot glue gun: $16.99

Portable karaoke machine: $24.99

Karaoke CD’s: $22.99

Dressing up as a human karaoke machine and having your friends sing to you all night: Priceless!



The evening got a little out of control by the end, and I suspect that Seamus will soon be evicted. To quote Natasha, “When the mime doth lay down with the wolf, Armageddon is nigh.”

23 Comments; | Filed under: General

Paint-by-numbers f*ing suck. Who the hell thought this would be a good idea? “Yeah, Jenny. Go to Michael’s! Get a paint-by-number! It’s really calming, and will make you feel like an artist.”
And at first, it did. I would sit at my coffee table with the television on softly, gleefully painting away on Wild Horses. First #59 (Brown). Start with the big spaces first, the instructions said. Do all one color at a time, it told me. So I did, and I felt such pride as I saw the horse’s shoulder and head come together. Then I pulled out the #21 (Black), and continued on with his majestically flowing mane and some rocks. Now for a splash of color, why don’t you focus on #50 (Blue)? Oh, capital idea! That sky really pops now, doesn’t it?

But then I moved on to #17 (White).
I mean, do you people have any idea at all how unsatisfying it is to paint white acrylic paint onto a white piece of canvas board, into tiny little misshapen blobs and narrow slivers that are one-tenth the size of my brush, over and over again? Well I’ll tell you – it’s really unsatisfying. It’s probably exactly how that Greek sissy guy felt as he pushed that boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll back down again. Defeated.
It got to the point where I didn’t even give a crap whether I was staying in the lines or not, because who could even tell? And then the stupid purple numbers still showed through the cheap-ass white acrylic paint, which made me even angrier. They didn’t give me enough #17 to do a double coat, dammit! What am I supposed to do – go out and buy one special tiny container of #17?!? They’ll laugh me right out of Home Depot!
Natasha told me that they use paint-by-numbers as art therapy in prisons for the criminally insane because it supposedly calms them down. Well, I’ve seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and now I know what gave Chief the strength to rip that drinking fountain out of the wall, and it wasn’t Juicy Fruit.
Look, in general, I’m a pretty controlled person, but I’m telling you that if the guy who designed Wild Horses walked into my apartment right now, I would swing him around my living room by the legs like a rag doll, watch him smash through the window, and not even bother to look to see if he at least missed the sidewalk. Such is my rage.
But, tempted as I am to just take a giant sponge brush and paint the rest of the canvas #64 (Green), I made you all a promise. I told you and myself that I wouldn’t give up on this. If I quit now, how will you ever trust me again? What will my word mean to you after that betrayal? How will I ever look my 7th grade art teacher in the eye if I run into him in the grocery store, even though I think he might have died a few years ago?
And so I continue. I’m going to take it day by day, because that’s all I can do. One color at a time, like the instructions told me to do. Like everything in life, it’s what you take away from an experience – good or bad – that matters. And I have to admit that this has taught me a lot about myself. I learned that somewhere, deep inside me, lies a pure and untapped pool of hatred. I learned that I hate art. And I hate numbers. And I really hate people who make art with numbers. And I guess this newfound discovery makes the whole experience worthwhile.

15 Comments; | Filed under: General

I hear a series of explosions.
Gunshots outside my window.
A woman shrieks, but the people around her just scream back, then run away into the darkness.
Sirens lull me to sleep.
I wake to learn that the White Sox have won the Superbowl. The curse of the Bambino has finally been lifted.
Note to local Chicago news reporters: never, ever, hand your microphone to a near-blind drunk man who is currently crowd-surfing in a bar. You will most likely never see that microphone again.

22 Comments; | Filed under: General