Tuesday, April 30, 2013

You won't hear me saying...

This blog idea is stolen from my friend Micah. Stolen idea. Not my own, people. But I think it's interesting.

Again, not my original thought. Totally stealing from Micah.

These are things you will never hear come out of my mouth...

"Add onions, please."

"Not tonight, I have a headache."

"I'll take a Busch Lite. In a can, if you have it."

"Yes, I'll totally take your newborn child for the whole weekend."

"No don't come over, I'm too tired."

"Oh my, I can't wait to have babies and get married."
"I can't wait to sit at home and hand out candy to trick or treaters"

"Yes, I will totally work a 5am shift (or 6am...or 7am...8am is pushing it)."

Sunday, April 28, 2013

8:30a is too early to run

Ever since I started this running adventure, I have been a late afternoon/evening runner. I love this. I have never been a morning person ever (like EVER) and I never will be. I wish more than anything that was a trait I got from my dad - that man is up at the asscrack of dawn every morning. I instead inherited my mom's ability to sleep for 12 hours at a time. It's incredibly frustrating.

Anyway. This explains why the two times I have signed up for a run, I haven't been nervous for the actual run itself. I am only nervous about forcing myself to get out of bed that early.

So, yesterday when I had to be at the park to run for autism at 8:30a, I got there at 7:45a. For some reason, I forgot that I live in Omaha and am 15 minutes away from everything. I left my house an hour early. Whatever. It gave me time to people watch.

Then I ran, with my boss's daughter and her best friend. Yes, they are like 12. But I decided this year that I will not say no to any race/walk I am asked to participate in, so there I was.

I did ok. Not great. I got a killer cramp in the middle of mile 2 that didn't go away for the rest of the run. That sucks, FYI. I tried to not think about it, and instead think of why I was cramping up. Well. to begin with, I had rice kripsie treats for dinner the night before, nor did I drink enough water the day before. I skipped breakfast because I wasn't hungry, and I hadn't drank anything yet that day.

For a smart person, I am really stupid sometimes.

I didn't think I needed to "prepare" for this 5K, because I run a 5K at least four times a week. But I run in the evenings, after a full day of good eats and plenty of water. What an idiot I am.

Anywho. It was a great learning experience. And I think I look pretty skinny in this picture, besides the fact that I am two decades older than my running mates and I have no makeup on.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

The Day Alex was born

Today I became an aunt times five. Really times six since Coop calls me Aunt Jen. Really times seven, since I am sure sooner or later Chandler will start calling me Aunt Jen, although right now he just screams JEN at me.

Alexander Jon Cherko was born. Mama and Baby are fine and good. My sister, again, amazed me at her strength and determination.

Days like this make me very happy and blissful and content. And I super love my nephew Gavin, who is going to be the best big brother this world has ever seen.

Things I learned the hard way #4

...when I'm gonna pass out, I'll do it anywhere.

I've always been a bit of a drama queen. So much so that when something is actually wrong, I often get ignored or it's assumed I'm just exaggerating.

However, there is one thing people just need to fucking believe me on. And that it: When I say I am going to pass out, I'm gunnafucking pass out.

This all started when I was a kid, I guess. I don't know if I really believe my mom when she says I have been passing out since I was three. The first time I remember passing out I was about ten. I was doing the dishes, and my siblings were doing whatever they used to do in the living room. Dad and Dennis were out in the garage. I cut myself with a knife. We are talking a microscopic cut. And the next thing I remember, I woke up on the kitchen floor, in a pile of sweat. I never told anyone about it cause I thought I would get in trouble for not being more careful.

I passed out a few more times during my teenage years - once when I hit my funny bone, once when I swallowed wrong (seriously), once during 8th grade Outdoor Ed day when a mock car accident proved to be a little too real for my sensitive stomach. In high school, for some reason I have yet to understand, we were watching a war movie in my English class, and I promptly went out to the hallway and passed out. It was March 17, 1997. I will never forget, because the librarian was dressed as a leprechaun and that's what I woke up to.

That pass out started the beginning of the "what's really wrong with Jen" saga. I went to a doctor, who decided I was borderline diabetic. A year later, when I went back to that same doctor, I asked how my diabetes were and he said he had no idea what I was talking about. So I guess that wasn't the right diagnosis.

I passed out a couple more billion times - at work orientation, when the safety video got to me...in a movie theatre watching Joy Ride, when a fence gets lodged through some guys leg....when I shaved my legs and cut the crap out of myself.

Then a real doozy happened, and I passed out on an airplane. I still am not really sure why - I think I was overheated, and crowded, and fat and uncomfortable. I knew I was going to go down. Emily was sitting next to me, and Missy and Alby were a few rows up. I asked the stewardess (flight attendant? waitress? airplane mistress?) for a cup of ice, but she didn't get it to me on time and I went down. Apparently the flight attendant started smacking the shit out of me and screaming for a doctor. Missy was yelling "she does this all the time!" from her seat. I think someone was trying to pour water on me. I came to and went to the bathroom and puked. It's bad enough to pass out and have to get back to being level headed on level ground. On an airplane it's impossible. When I got back to my seat, the guy in front of me turned around and gave me his business card. Heart doctor. He suggested I make an appointment with him when we were back in Omaha.

When the flight landed, I got to get off the plane first. That was awesome. Everyone stared, of course. A medic was waiting for me at the gate, and he pricked my finger and ran some tests, or something. I'm not really sure what was going on. He said I was fine, but I needed to get approval to fly again from someone who would be there in a minute.

"Umm what if he says I can't fly?"
"Well then you're stuck here," he answered.
"But I'm fine!" There was literally nothing that was going to keep me from making it to Hollywood that day.
"Well, if you run off right now there is nothing I can do to stop you," he replied, and I tore off like the wind.

When I got back to Omaha, I did go to that heart doctor. He told me I have vasovagal syncope. What is that exactly? It's a disease that means I pass out a lot. What is the cure? Don't do things that make me pass out.

I went trucking along in my life, passing out every so often...a doctors appointment here, a gross movie there, swallowing wrong here, cutting myself there. I have been curled up in the fetal position in so many places - the floor of my eye doctor, the movie theatre bathroom, under my desk at work. During the vampire birth scene in Breaking Dawn I felt like I was going to go down, so I went outside...in November...at midnight...and got locked out of the movie theatre. That was hot. Nope, it was cold. Then the worst pass out ever came - right after my tumor surgery, I passed out on my best friend's mom's back porch. Everyone went into straight up panic mode, and I wound up back in the hospital. After that, UNMC was determined to figure out my problem.

I went through every single test ever known to man on the face of the earth. Seriously. I had my brain, heart, everything looked at. I even had to be strapped to a bed, where they tested my limits - I lasted maybe 15 minutes in that test and went down. After that, the doctor told me...you guessed it, I have vasovagal syncope, and I need to avoid situations that make me pass out. That doctor gave me a little more advice, such as drink a TON of water every day and up my sodium intake.

I haven't passed out since then, so I feel like I'm cured.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Things I learned the hard way #3

...just because he's married doesn't mean he's not gonna try to get in your pants.

Well, my pants to be more specific.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to pretend I'm innocent here. I have hooked up with married guys, engaged guys and single guys. I've hooked up with guys with kids, guys with pregnant wives, and guys with newborns. I'm not a slut. Quit thinking I'm a slut. I've just lived a lot; I'm obese with experiences.

However, two very odd situations come to mind. I was out with groups of people during both occasions, and I was feeling very safe - meaning I wasn't planning on hooking up at all those nights, nor was I worried about trying to beat any guys off with a stick. I was just out to have a few drinks with my co-workers, and then go home and go to sleep. All of the guys I was with were married. So I didn't think I had anything to worry about.

Poor, poor stupid Jen.

And also, let me just say this: I know paragraph three would lead you to believe differently, but I am not a slut. I don't have one night stands. I don't randomly hook up. So keep that in mind when you are judging the crap out of me. 

Situation number one happened not long after I started at the casino. I was only 23, and had only one married guy under my belt thus far (literally...hahaha). I was at a bar with several people, but the crowd kept dwindling down until there was only three of us left: Me, Hot Married Guy, and Uggo Married Guy.

The three of us decided to call it a night, and walked out to our cars. Hot Married Guy was parked in the other direction, so he walked away from us. Me and Uggo Married Guy walked towards our cars, which were parked next to each other.

"So...is this gonna happen?" he asked.
"This." Uggo pointed to himself, then at me, then at himself again.
"Wait...do you think we are hooking up tonight?" I was shocked. Seriously? First of all, Uggo is that confident that he thinks he can get me?! I briefly remember Uggo's wife, and she is hot. Way hotter than me.  He must have something going for him. Still...gross. I shake my head. "No. No, we are not hooking up tonight."
"Jen." He uses my name as a complete sentence. "My wife is out of town. This is a one night only offer."
"I'm sorry, not happening." I stand firm. I can be such a hardass when I want to be.
He kinda rolled his eyes/laughed at me/shrugged all in one swift douchy movement. "Alright, your loss."

I don't understand where a man gets that much confidence?

Situation number two happened a few years later. I was still at the casino, and again was out with casino people. (I seemed to get into a lot of interesting situations when I was hanging with casino people...) Again, it ended up being just four of us at the bar. Me, Douchbag Married Guy and Married Couple.

Beep beep back up. I want to tell you a little about Douchbag Married Guy. He was relatively new, and already had a reputation as being a jack ass/drunk/ladies man. He went to the strip clubs A LOT. And we ain't talking Vegas strip clubs, where the women are actually hot. We are talking backwoods, Council Tuckey, sickass strip clubs where lysol is very necessary before you sit down. He was like a perv/douche/manwhore/disgusting sick guy. However, he was kinda fun, so why wouldn't I hang out with him? Also, he had mentioned a few times during our night out that he had a brand new six month old baby girl at home that he was in love with. That's nice, right? What a nice guy.

Okay. So we all decided to leave, and Married Couple got in their car and left. This left Douchbag Married Guy to insist on walking me to my car. Before I knew what was happening, I was pressed up against my car and he was in my face.

"Umm, hello there." I said. WHAT THE HELL.
"I'm gonna give you a number," he said. He was trying to sound sexy. It was not working for me. "Four."
"What is four?" Even thought the situation was ridic, I still like a good numbers game.
"Four seconds. That's how long it will take me to get you off."
"I'm gonna give you a number." I said. "Six."
"What is six?" he asked.
"How many months old your baby girl is."
He stepped away from me, threw his hands up and said "Okay, you got me. I get it."
He shook my hand and apologized.

To this day, that is the best comeback I've ever had. My brain NEVER works that fast.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Things I learned the hard way #2

For my second lesson, I give you:

Don't piss off the babysitter.

This one goes way back. I think I was seven or eight. Maybe a little older. Definitely old enough to behave myself when I had a babysitter and three younger siblings home with me that night.

Our babysitter was our next door neighbor. To protect the innocent, I will call her Lena. I loved Lena something fierce. She was fun and awesome and pretty and popular. I idolized her. She introduced me to New Kids on The Block and Melrose Place and 90210. Which is why, I guess, I thought I could act like a little shithead.

I don't remember much about the events leading up to the main event, but at some point I made Lena mad. She told me to go sit outside. I walked to the door, and opened it. I stuck my hands in between the hinges on one side and swung my bony little ass outside. Lena came up behind me and slammed the door.

I screamed bloody murder. There was a mess of blood and guts and tears, and that's when we realized the tip of my right ring finder had sliced right off.

FUCKING SICK RIGHT! I can't remember anything after this. I have no idea where my parents were. Or Lena's parents. Somehow my Uncle Jeff came to the rescue and took me to the hospital. We couldn't find the tip of my finger, so I just had to deal with the stump. (It's not even really a stump. We're talking 1/2 of an inch here, maybe.) I know Gena Lena was hysterical. I was hysterical.

After that, my finger ached something fierce when it rained. I remember one day I was at the park and hit in on the metal slide and it started gushing blood again. I convinced myself I had a life handicap and I was just going to have to deal. I think my finger is super ugly, but no one else seems to notice. And I have since made amends with Gena/Lena.

Oh, and my Uncle Henry found the tip of my finger a few days later.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Things I learned the hard way...

I feel like this could be a really funny series, although I feel like I shouldn't commit to blogging a series. So welcome to the first installment of the "things I learned the hard way" series, which may or may not ever have a second installment.

For my first lesson learned the hard way, I present you with:

Never buy a shady massage deal off Living Social.

I was so excited to buy a 60 minute deep tissue massage for $20. And it was in Council Bluffs, where I was working at the time. I didn't even know there was a massage place in Council Bluffs! Score! I called to make the appointment, and had to book a month out, because this place was so busy! They must be gooood!

I waited patiently for my appointment, and then the day finally came. I took a drive on my lunch break to find the place. Um...it was above a bike shop on "the strip" in CB. There was one tiny sign. Umm..okay. I probably should have cancelled at this point.

I got to my appointment and opened the door, which only led to a staircase. Okay. I climbed up the stairs, silently praying I wasn't walking into a serial killer's convent or a "happy endings" salon. I got to the top of the stairs, and there was a door on both sides of me. No signs. I felt like Dorothy when she hits a T in the yellow brick road and didn't know which way to go. There was no scarecrow to direct me. I had no idea what to do.

Suddenly the door on my right bursts open.

"Are you Jen?" a weird looking hipster girl screamed in my face. "I'm still eating!"
"Um okay, am I early?" I asked.
"No, but you can just sit in here til I'm done."

She led me to...her kitchen. Yep. Her kitchen. I was in this woman's apartment. She was eating ramon noodles. I gagged a little, but then got jealous that I'm not able to justify ramon noodles into my life anymore.

"Can I use your restroom?" I asked. I was so uncomfortable and I was slightly concerned about pissing myself out of fear.

"Yep, right that way." She pointed off yonder, and I walked into...yep, her personal bathroom. Cheap shampoo and conditioner sat on the ledge of her shower. Her makeup was scattered on the sink. Her blow dryer hung from its cord plugged into the wall. Do hipsters use blow dyers? I realized then I wasn't exactly sure what a hipster was. I would have thought they spent more than a dollar on shampoo, though.

I came back out and she had me sign some paperwork, basically saying what I wanted worked on and if I die on the table she wouldn't be held liable. I was a little scared to sign, because I was pretty convinced at that point she was going to kill me.

After I signed my life away, she led me into what I can only assume was her bedroom. She left me alone to get naked, and I stripped down, silently thinking how stupid it was that I will get naked for anyone who promises to rub on me. She came back in after I was wrapped tightly into what I can only assume was her bed, and I was silently praying again for God to get me through this.

Then she beat on me for 60 straight minutes. It actually hurt. I kept saying ow, but she apparently thought this was an S&M thing and that I liked the pain. I was downright begging God at that point to not make this out to be like a real life porno, where she started hitting on me and coercing me to be a lesbian with her.

I think I blacked out for a minute, and then it was over. I got dressed, mumbled some lies about what a great job she did, and hightailed my ass back to Homaha.

The next day I couldn't walk. Lesson learned. Never again.

Thursday, April 18, 2013


It's April 17th and it's snowing like a bitch outside. I don't mean it's accumulating, or even sticking to the ground. I just mean that Mother Nature is being a huge see-you-next-tuesday and she's showing us all who is really in charge around here.

I'm pretty sure this weather is making me bi-polar. So far today, these are the things that have raced through my mind.

- I really want to buy a house. (This leads to Google, trying to figure out how you even start buying a house, trying to find a credit application online and starting the process.)
- Wait, that means I would have to buy a lawnmower. Never mind.
- I miss having a pet. I'm going to adopt a kitten.
- No kitten. I feel like they are more work. I'm going to adopt a really old cat on the verge of death.
- Wait, cats puke. Never mind.
- I'm going to take an Art class.
- No wait, a culinary class.
- Never mind. I hate school.
- I want water.
- No, I want Mountain Dew.
- No. Hot chocolate.

I also had a hard time deciding between a pencil, pen, green highlighter or pink highlighter, apparently.

I need spring.

Dream jobs?

Okay, so now that we've gone through my work history, what do I want to do?

They (I don't know who "they" is) say that if you love your work, you'll never work a day in your life. So these are just a few things I could do so that I never feel like I'm working:

1. Hyvee cashier: If money was no issue and I could still buy Coach purses, I would work at Hyvee. I freaking love it. Please note: this may be because of my memories of working at Kaimans. So more than likely, after one shift I would realize this is a disgusting thing to do as an adult.

2. Blogging: I don't understand how bloggers make money. But some do, and I would love to figure out how.

3. Stay at home mom: I would be amazing. However, that means I have to get pregnant and have a baby. And a husband to work so I can stay at home. Next...

4. Teacher: I would LOVE to be a teacher. But the thought of starting over with schooling makes me want to vomit and choke on it.

5. Craft maker: I am good at making crafts. I wish I could do it all the time.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

When I grow up...

You guys. You all know I work for a college and I do love this industry. I wish my job had a little more student contact, but I am sure I'll get to that. However, I've been thinking lately of what I really want to do with my life. These are the jobs I have had:

Kaiman's Supermarket in Glenwood: This is my favorite job I've ever had, obvi. All I did was play grab ass and drink Mt Dew. I was surrounded by the hottest boys and some really good girl friends. The longest day I ever had was on Saturday, when I had to work from one pm - nine pm. But when you are just playing grab ass all day, is that really working?

Buffet at Harrahs in Council Bluffs: This was one summer between semesters at BV. Basically I just let my friends cut in the buffet line and drank my face off the second I got off work. #healthy

Sugar Bowl in Storm Lake: This was like a Hallmark store in the town I where I went to college. I liked this job because I learned how to wrap presents and make bows, and I smelled candles every day. It also taught me really important things in life, like how to register for awesome wedding gifts and how to make really kick ass store displays.

Copy editor for the Omaha World Herald: This job was SOOOO boring. I worked for like six hours a day and this is what those hours consisted of: 2 hours of reading the paper/various other news websites. 1 hour for lunch. 1 hour total of walking back and forth to the bathroom. 1 hour of actual work. 1 hour of picking my split ends. I got nothing out of this job, except I got to wear jeans every day, so now I think any job where I can't wear jeans is bullshit.

Subway in Glenwood: Um. This was not a real job. I ate so much Subway and gave away approximately one million dollars in footlongs. 

Cashier for Harrahs: This is where shit got real. I worked overnights. I did ridiculous things. That's all I have to say about that.

VIP Coordinator for Bluffs Run: Holy crap. This is where shit got even more real. I was the youngest of four girls who worked the desk in the VIP lounge. That made me a target right there. My behavior didn't help. This is when I met Roy and Adam. And that's all I'll say about that. I did this job for six months, and then moved on to be...

Marketing Coordinator for Bluffs Run: This job was ridiculous fun. I worked for Jill. Thank God I met her. I ran promotions like they were my bitches. I did a good job. I worked a lot of hours, and I had a lot of fun. This was when I met Missy and Katie, and coming to work every day was like going to a really fun, all day party.

Marketing Supervisor for Horseshoe: Seriously, the good times just kept coming. I ran the best team ever. Everyone who reported to me was awesome and fun. And even though I got accused of sleeping with my employee (which I actually wasn't guilty of) (however, I had a reputation so I get it) (and he was really hot and I did hang out with him) (and as soon as he wasn't my employee I kinda wanted him). But then...

Sales Manager for Harrahs/Horseshoe: This was my biggest mistake at the casino. But I got greedy and wanted the manager title. My position was eliminated (with good reason) and I was kicked to the curb. However...I was miserable. I wanted to leave. I was applying for jobs. So really, I needed that kick.

Marketing Manager for Ameristar: This job came at the perfect time, after ten weeks of being unemployed. However, so did the exit six months later when I was laid off (take two). I hated everyone I worked with. I was miserable every single day. I stayed because of the money, but I was job searching again, and I saw my lay off coming. I had my office packed up already.

Sales Manager for Spencers: Kill me now. I hated everything about this job and lasted 90 days. Next...

Registrar for Kaplan: Confession - I actually did like this job. And I worked with my best friend every day. And I met Julie. And other cool people. And I got to deal with students every single day. Granted, 80% of them were pains in my ass, but it was still awesome. So awesome, in fact, that they decided to close the campus and kick me out again (take three).

Metro: And now I'm at Metro.

I have worked a lot of freaking jobs. Stay tuned for my next entry, when I try to figure out exactly what my dream job actually is.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

The Junction...seriously?

When I was a kid, my sister and I would ride our bikes to the corner bar in our little small town of Pacific Junction, Iowa. We would buy sodas. Normally they were fifty cents, but if we promised to bring the empty cans back later they would only charge us 45 cents. We would take our extra nickle to the candy store and buy five pieces of the one cent gum.

I had never been back to that bar since I have become legal age to drink.

That all changed on Friday night.

I went out to dinner with my family, and I knew they all had plans to go to the PJ bar, aka "The Junction", afterwards. When asked, I said no, I wasn't going. But then the begging started. And then my cousin Kelly, who was my bestie all through elementary school and middle school, said she wanted me to go. All of a sudden my "it's too long of a drive" excuse did not fly, since she had just drove in from Colorado Springs.

So then I was planning on pretending I would meet them there, but not really going. Then that seemed like a dick move, so instead I came home and got clothes in case I needed to crash at my sister's and headed back down the interstate to PJ.

I am not going to lie - I had fun. The bar was a lot cleaner and nicer than I remembered, and my aunt was the DJ so that was fun. My cousin and I were able to catch up and I got to talk to her new husband. My cousin Lucas and I sang a little duet, and I got to hang out with his wife Emily, who I don't know very well but she seems very cool.

Of course, I also got to watch my mom get completely wasted off Bud Heavy (who drinks that?!) and get slobbered on by the town drunk. But you have to take the bad with the good, right?

And speaking of good...a claw machine with porn? Only in PJ!

I am normally not good at claw machines, but I guess I am more motivated when I'm able to win a vibrating eye mask.

Roger scored some porn.

Stroke on a rope...very classy. 

Mom with her bud heavy, and Tammy with her makeshift wine cooler.

We started having way too much fun with the stroke on a rope. 

I started by beer bottle interviews. 

Emily never hangs with girls, and we tried to make her like us. 

Thursday, April 11, 2013

The Good, Bad and Ugly

I saw this on another girl's blog - just so you all know. I don't want you to think I'm that creative. But it was entertaining to read, and I want to do it too, damn it.

So I present to you...the good, bad and ugly of yours truly.

The Good:
1. I am crafty. And pretty creative.
2. I'm generally a pretty positive person. In the last five years I've suffered some pretty serious blows, but I have come out better in the end with a lot of life lessons learned.
3. I try really hard to let the important people in my life know just how important they are.
4. I realize my work history doesn't show it (three layoffs in five years), but I am actually really loyal and hardworking, and I am generally pretty good at my job.
5. My apartment is really clean. I am a pretty neat person and I'm well organized. 

The Bad:
1. I am a very picky eater. I don't let this hinder me from going out to eat with my friends, I can (usually) find something everywhere that I will eat. But I don't try new things (like bananas or seafood), and I will not, no matter how much you bully me.
2. Speaking of food, I get stuck on the same meal for weeks at a time. I mean every single day eating the exact same dinner. For weeks. This isn't a bad thing because I'm single, but I am assuming no man will ever let that fly.
3. I need complete dark to sleep. So much so that I now wear an eyemask. I also prefer complete silence.
4.  I'm pretty smart, but I often forget how to use my computer, or navigate my i products, and I cannot for the life of me make edits to my facebook page. I also can't change a tire, and nine times out of ten I can't even get the hood to my jeep open.
5. I get super obsessed with projects and it's all I can focus on for weeks at a time. Luckily right now my project is shredding my body, so it's a positive obsession. However, when it's planning an event, or helping someone plan an event, I tend to get borderline annoying.

The Ugly:
1. When I am sick and home for the day, I use a tshirt as a kleenex. Not one that I wear. Usually a free one I got from a charity walk or something. It's just easier than throwing tissues away all day long. Nick says this will be a deal breaker if a guy ever wants to marry me.
2.When I am shopping, I sing as I walk around the store. Sometimes I do little dance moves. It's embarrassing. But for some reason I don't care? I also finish singing whatever song is playing when I turn my car off and I am walking inside. I am sure my neighbors enjoy their nightly Taylor Swift tribute contest I exhibit for them.
3. I suck at doing dishes because wet food makes me dry heave. It's making me dry heave right now just at the thought of it. Omg. I have to stop thinking about it. At home I just rinse and throw things in the dishwasher before I have to real look at it, but at family holidays I have to deal with it. I know my sisters probably think I'm just lazy, but I seriously cannot handle it and it's getting worse as I get older for some reason. I have lost count of how many dishes I have thrown away because I can't handle the thought of washing them.
4.  I talk about my poop issues a lot.
5. I make fun of people. A lot. And it's mean. And it's usually to make people laugh or shock them. However...everything that I say is true.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Once I put it on here, I have to do it.

You guys. I started Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred tonight. I vow to do the whole thing. Y'all are responsible for keeping me accountable.

Also I love Men at Work on TBS.

And I had an amazing day today.

Happy Hump Day all!

Monday, April 8, 2013

Dating profile

Some of my friends have tried the online dating thing. Some are trying right now (although they are kinda being half ass about it). And I have heard stories (although I only know of one true life story of someone I know) about people who seriously meet their future spouse through an online dating site.

One night in 2008, in a fit of complete rage and prescription pain pills, I signed up on a site. It was a free one, okcupid.com. I answered the questions like I was supposed to, and wrote out what I thought the guys wanted to hear. I went on exactly one date. I wasn't a very good online dater. My profile stayed up for years, and I actually just went in and shut it down about six months ago. Not because I've found the love of my life or stopped my search for a husband, but because clearly I am not going to participate in the cyber dating world.

Also, I needed to shut it down because my profile was a big pile of shit. I am not an "easy going chick" who just wants a "guys' guy" and just wants someone who gets along with my family. Those are things you are supposed to say on your profile. If I was to be completely honest, this is what my dating profile should say:

Say a little about yourself: I'm 32. I work at a college, handling transcripts, graduation applications and other office/paperwork/boring duties. I'm not exactly sure if what I am doing right now is a lifelong thing, but I think the industry is. I think. I really like helping people do awesome things, and graduating from college is an awesome thing. I did it twice - I have a bachelors and a masters degree. So I'm kinda smart. But I can't boil an egg, shave without cutting myself or fix a flat tire. I also work out a lot, and I'm always on some sort of diet. Not because I'm crazy or egotistical, but because I used to be really fat. Oh, you should know that about me. I used to be huge. So sometimes I still cry when I can fit into mediums, and the stretch marks on my belly probably won't ever go away (sorry).

Share what you like to do for fun: I really like television and celebrity gossip. My DVR is my bestie, and if we were to ever be a serious couple, we would probably need to invest in two of them because mine fills up. I also love to go to concerts and plays, but you don't have to go with me to those things. Unless you want to. I have amazing friends, and I am not going to be one of those girls who just hangs out with you once we start dating. In fact, you better have amazing friends too, because you will be expected to hang out with them often. This girl needs her space. I don't love working out, but I do it almost every day. I love going to sporting events, but I wouldn't say I'm like a die hard sports fan. I will always, always let you watch sports on TV though***. There is nothing hotter than a guy who is a sports fanatic (I'm seriously not kidding here).

***The one exception to this is during awards season. I will not forgo my right to watch red carpet coverage all day so that you can watch sports. But that would be a great day for you to spend with your friends at a bar.

Tell a bit about your personality: I think I am hilarious. I would say 50% of people agree with me. I love talking to people, and I love asking questions. I think everyone is interesting, so I like to find out things. I ask a lot of hypothetical questions. Once a person has won me over, I care about them with all my heart. Most people think I am a hardass and a badass. I don't know how I ever got that rep, because I am not. Maybe it's because my dad is a biker, so I should be tough? I am not.

What would you like to see and do?: I would like to see Hawaii. I would also like to zipline across somewhere amazing, and, just yesterday, I decided I would like to run a marathon someday. I HATE running, but I hate people telling me I can't do something more.

What would be an ideal first date?: This is literally the hardest question in the world. I think this would seriously be my ideal date...the guy comes to my door to pick me up (I'm old fashioned like that). We go somewhere fun, for some sort of event. Like a game of some sort, or to a sports bar to watch a game. But it has to be a sports bar that has food, because he is going to buy me dinner (on the first date. That's the only date I will expect him to pay up.) Or, if there is not a sporting event to watch, we should go to like a  Dave and Busters type place because I really really love them but don't get to go often.

Describe your ideal match: I want a guy who makes me laugh, but also makes me think. I want a guy who is smarter than me, but appreciates my talents. I want a guy who is a good friend, but also a good boyfriend. I want a guy who will take out the trash, and fix things and change lightbulbs. I want a guy who plays games with me, and answers hypothetical questions, and tells me about new music to listen to. I want a guy who is good to his family, and who is good to me and values our relationship. I want a guy who is genuinely excited and happy to spend time with me and acts like it.

What does your ideal relationship look like?: A lot of talking, doing fun things, having sex, being happy and loving life.

Friday, April 5, 2013

I see dead people...

No I don't. I don't see dead people. But sometimes I think I hear them, or feel them. Which is why I am obsessive about spirits and psychic mediums like Rebecca Rosen.

I bought tickets a long time ago for last night's event. Jill, Molly, Katie and I went.
This is me and Katie. I was really nervous about Katie experiencing Rebecca.

Katie's older brother Michael died in 2002. It was a freak accident. And it messed Katie up something fierce.

She loved him, like every sister loves her brother, but it was more than that. They were besties, and to know Katie and hear stories about Michael, a lot alike. I have to admit, sometimes the things Katie is entertained by or finds funny go over my head. But to listen to her talk about her brother, it seems that they were on the same page about most everything.

I never got to know him, because I didn't meet Katie until a few years after he passed. But I wish I would have. I have a feeling I would have been in love with him.

Katie didn't get a reading from Michael last night. I was really worried about her; I was scared she would be disappointed. I texted her after I got home.

"So what did you think?
"It was a really good experience."
"I was worried about you being disappointed."
"Well, I think those ladies who lost their babies needed it more than I needed to talk to Michael."

Love that attitude.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

I stepped on the scale today

I hit a point in my weight loss journey a few months ago where I hated everything. I hated healthy living, I hated working out and I hated feeling judged all the time. However, I REALLY hated the scale.

That fucking bitch. Stupid scale. No matter how hard I worked, no matter what I did, I couldn't get it to move. So I decided to give up. I based my progress on how my clothes fit, and my measurements. I lost inches in my waist and my hips, but not my bust (thank GOD).

My clothes are getting loose again, so this morning I decided to step on the scale. I'm right where I was before Christmas, which is about three pounds up from my orginal loss of 90. That's 87. I'm not a math person, so yes, I had to think about that.

I am happy about that, although it's disappointing to not be at the 90 I hit right before the holidays.  But it's okay. I probably won't step on a scale again for another month. I am just so sick of this little square shaped machine dictating how my day will go.

In case any of you are wondering, I am currently using My Fitness Pal to track calories. I was back on Weight Watchers, but, to be honest, I got bored with counting points. I decided to track calories for awhile, and MFP is a great app. I am also running four days a week, and I use the Map My Run app for that. I love love LOVE this app. I use it when I go on walks as well, just so I can know how far I've gone. I'm pretty sure the "calories burned" counter is extremely inflated, but that's okay. Also, I have signed up for two 5Ks this spring. I have decided that I am going to run any race that anyone asks me to. So that's two so far. I really hope no one asks me to run a marathon, since I am just a yes-man now.

Other than that, I am really working hard on not taking bites or handfuls of random food items and not tracking it. Which is kinda hard when there are three candy jars within five feet of me at work. Yesterday, I sat here thinking about the pink and yellow starburst I saw in one of them. I thought about those starbursts for two hours. I tried to guess how many calories were in one of them. I guessed 8. Then I realized I have a computer and a smart phone at my fingertips, so I googled it.

14 freeeeaking calories for one starburst! No thanks.

However - I would just like to be completely honest. I go out to eat for lunch all the time. If you people were sitting at my desk, you would understand. If I don't leave my desk during the day I would go absolutely bananas. So I go to Jimmy Johns one day a week, and Taco Bell another. I try to bring my lunch the other three days. My JJ meal is nothing...550 calories. Taco bell is more...780....but that's okay because it's delicious and I'm not going to stop so just back off.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013


I'm obsessed with myself so I am re-reading my own blog.

I wrote this four months before Kaplan laid me off:

"So am I secretly wishing Kaplan lays me off so I am forced to look for something else? I don't know."

It's scary how fucking pyschic I am sometimes.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

My best friend Leslie says...

Let's get real. Another thing that should have been on my guilty pleasures list is Miley Cyrus. I just love the spunky little mess. And I think the real reason I love her so much is because in one of her songs from years ago, she says "my best friend Leslie says oh she's just being Miley."

I have a best friend Leslie, too. So Miley and I are kinda connected.

Leslie and I aren't the type of best friends who talk every day, or see each other often. We were like that in high school. In fact, we spent more time together than apart. I was at her house all the time, sometimes even when she wasn't there. I walked in the front door without knocking, went into the deep freeze in the garage, and helped myself to their chicken nuggets. Her mom, Nancy, ordered from the Schwan's guy. We didn't do that at my house. I vowed to myself that when I grew up, I would be the type of mom who orders from the Schwans guy.

Leslie and I kinda knew each other, but our friendship really blossomed when we both got dumped. Matt dumped me, and Leslie and Joe broke up. We both had devoted an entire school year to those boys, so when the break up happened over the summer we were lonely and lost. One morning my phone rang. "Jen? This is Leslie Schmailzl. I heard you and Matt broke up. Joe and I broke up, too, and I have no friends, do you want to hang out?" We spent that afternoon driving by their houses.

Thank God she called that day. We became like sisters after that, and we were always together. Sometimes we would let another person in, like Leanna or Ashleigh, but usually it was just the two of us. We became members of each other's families. There were so many nights I would come home from work and find Leslie at the kitchen table with my dad. They were usually talking about their bowel movements or trying to set things on fire without my stepmom seeing them.

One night we drove around town trying to hit street signs with my big suburban so we could take them home with us. Another night we threw stuff off bridges. Sometimes we just laid on one of our trampolines, talking and trying to figure out our lives.

Our friendship was ridiculous and consuming, and we knew we needed to separate. We went to different colleges, after her mom told us that if we went to the same college we wouldn't meet anyone new, so it wasn't a good idea. I went to BV, she went to Central. Then she lived in Chicago while she went to chiropractor school. Now we are both back in Omaha.

We went to dinner last night. We don't talk every day, but somehow last night it was like no time had gone by. Our problems are different now, and we don't have the time (or the desire) to drive around and throw stuff off bridges. But I love her just the same.

Monday, April 1, 2013

Guilty Pleasures

A few weeks ago on Glee (yes, I still watch Glee), the whole hour was about guilty pleasures. I have to admit, I am falling off the Glee wagon, but that episode I loved. I love the thought of guilty pleasures, and I indulge in many of them. And, if you know me (and if you are reading this blog you probably know too much about me), then you know I am going to list them for you now:

1. Since this post was inspired by Glee, the first one is related to the show: Blaine. His real name is Darren Criss. There is no good reason for me to be obsessed with this guy. I mean seriously, he's decades younger than me and he plays a gay on the show. I don't think he is gay in real life, though, so that's just enough for me to have completely ridiculous, hot and intense sex dreams about him after he sings a few solos on that show.

2. And while we're on the topic of (much) younger guys, this kid from Pitch Perfect is on my list too. Actually, that movie can be list. And the sound track. Especially the song the Bellas sing at the finals, because I rock that song, at high volumes, when I am alone in my car (and sometimes when I'm not alone) (sorry Kate). Apparently his real name is Skylar Astin. I don't even know what he's character's name in Pitch Perfect is. I haven't had any sex dreams about him yet, but I did watch the movie today, so tonight that could change. 

3. Enough about boys who are so young I could be their mother. Next up: Nicki Minaj songs. First of all, let me get this out there: I hate this woman. I think she is the shittiest role model for kids, and I believe she is single handedly the reason while American Idol is suffering from their lowest ratings ever (I don't watch Idol, and never have, so I don't really give a shit if it gets cancelled). However, I love that weird deep thing she does with her voice, and I love singing it along with her. 

4. Cool whip. It's very low calorie, but my obsession with it is bordering on compulsive. I am trying to cut out junk food at night, so I eat a (few) tablespoons of that. 

5. Mommy Dearest. This movie is so fucked up. But I am obsessed with it. I literally have to stop myself from watching it, because if I do I will watch it every day for weeks.

6. Crackers and cheese. I am talking about slices of Kraft cheese, split into fours, and then put on four saltines. This is my all time favorite snack. And the reason I can't keep this kind of cheese in my house, cause I can easily eat a full sleeve of crackers with those delicious squares of processed cheese on top. 

7. Serial killer/psycho wives shows. I get so scared I have to close my eyes, and sometimes I have to fast forward through scenes. But I love them. But it's slightly embarrassing  and I know people probably think I am batshit crazy.

8. Babysitters Club books. Yes, everyone knows I read them as a kid. But does anyone know that sometimes I pull one (out of the 150 I have under my bed) out and read through it? Well, you all do now. They are just comforting, and easy, and require no thought. And you know what? If you read them as a kid, you are jealous right now that you can't curl up under my bed and read through Kristy's Great Idea.

9. Tanning. This is a relatively new one. I was really into tanning a long time ago, in 2008. Then I had to stop, but never started again. I recently decided I deserved it, so I signed up at a tanning salon and I am fully obsessed. But my boobs are pretty sunburnt, so I am trying to slow down.

10. Goodwills. I went to three yesterday alone. When I was actively losing weight, I said that I was shopping at the goodwill to avoid spending a ton of money to replenish my wardrobe when I was between sizes. However, I've been maintaining the same weight and sizes since June, and I can't stop shopping at the Goodwill. I pop tags like it's my job. And I'm not going to stop. I justify it like this: I spend way too much money on purses, tennis shoes, sunglasses and tanning. I need to spend $3.59 on clothes.