March 9, 2015

why i rarely take vacations... also called why i rarely lose weight... also called I AM AN IDIOT.

february twenty-sixth.
whataburger. small coca-cola, double meat whataburger with cheese.
eight dollars, ten cents.
kroger. two hershey bars, vick's zzquil, bottle dasani water. 
eleven dollars, fifty-six cents.

february twenty-seventh.
live oak cleaners. two batches of dry-cleaning. 
forty-six dollars, ninety-four cents.
chevron. canned coca-cola, hershey bar. 
three dollars, twenty-three cents.
pinkberry. small cup of white chocolate raspberry. 
three dollars, seventy-nine cents.
pottery barn teen. small ultimate beauty organizer. 
twenty-five dollars, fifty-eight cents.
chic-fil-a. chic-fil-a sandwich with cheese, medium coca-cola. 
five dollars, sixty-one cents.
best buy. ten-pack color blank cds.
eleven dollars, ninety cents.
itunes. music.
one dollar, forty cents.

february twenty-eighth.
panera. large iced tea, half of a fuji apple chicken salad, cup of broccoli and cheddar soup, french baguette, chocolate pastry.
eleven dollars, thirty-four cents.
bank. cash withdrawal. 
sixty dollars, no cents.
(because i have no sense... i'm pretty sure half of this went toward fight night fun times at twin peaks.)

march fourth.
which wich. turkey sandwich, bottle dasani water.
eleven dollars, ten cents.
pinkberry. small cup of white chocolate raspberry. 
three dollars, seventy-nine cents.

march fifth.
panera. large iced tea.
two dollars, thirty-seven cents.
pinkberry. small cup of white chocolate raspberry. 
three dollars, seventy-nine cents.
whataburger. medium coca-cola, whataburger with cheese.
six dollars, sixty-nine cents.
exxon. gasoline. 
fifteen dollars, no cents.

march sixth.
gullo toyota. three-month maintenance. 
sixty-nine dollars, thirty-four cents.
village pharmacy. pills.
twenty-two dollars, no cents.
pinkberry. small cups of original, chocolate hazelnut, white chocolate raspberry.
seven dollars, fifty-eight cents.
(no. they were NOT all for me.)
whataburger. small sprite, whataburger with cheese.
five dollars, ninety-three cents.

march seventh.
chic-fil-a. fish sandwich with cheese, medium fries, medium coca-cola. 
five dollars, sixty-one cents.
kroger. hershey bar, kotex and playtex. 
sixteen dollars, forty-one cents.

march eighth.
exxon. gasoline. 
fifteen dollars, one cent.
fudruckers. canned coca-cola, third-pound cheeseburger, onion rings. 
ten dollars, ninety-three cents.

march ninth.
lenny's sub shop. tuna fish sandwich, dr. pepper, cheetos. 
nine dollars, forty-two cents.

total amount blown over twelve damned days
 three hundred ninety-four dollars, seventy-two cents.

March 3, 2015

random quarter: the q&a edition - march

one. salty or sweet? salty.

two. did you sleep alone last night? yes.

three. what's your favorite word (right now)? fuck. always and forever.

four. who's your nemesis? myself.

five. it's not a good idea to experiment with people's feelings.

six. what's the last song you listened to? new york state of mind.

seven. what is the last movie you rented? the hundred foot journey. (maybe?)

eight. what was something you wanted today but couldn't have? being held by a man.

nine. where do you live? conroe, texas.

ten. if you could add one hour to your day, what would you do with it? sleep.

eleven. what is true? i'm still in my pajamas.

twelve. what do you not want to talk about? sex.

thirteen. what do you want to buy? a beach vacation.

fourteen. what new activity have you tried? i haven't.

fifteen. in three words describe your spirituality. catholicism, astrology, mythology.

sixteen. what was the last book you read? fangirl.

seventeen. the first thing i ate today was club minis and coca-cola.

eighteen. jot down a news story from today. netanyahu bad deal on iran.

nineteen. are you country or rock'n'roll (or hip-hop, emo, folk punk... )? rock'n'roll.

twenty. adam, blake and pharrell made me laugh.

twenty-one. who do you aspire to be like? no one, lately.

twenty-two. when was the last time you felt like you were on top of the world? october third.

twenty-three. pick a color for today. gray.

twenty-four. what inventions can you not live without? music, stories, television and internet.

twenty-five. how could today have been better? more gumption. more clarity.

March 1, 2015

the good in my day: february

the patriots beat the seahawks!!! sarah, yvette, caterine and tyson. meredith. jennifer and maureen. fudrucker's. boom clap. the drive to san antonio. the riverwalk. melissa. stephanie, becca, danny and samantha. kim. scot. dianne. melissa and scot. keli. snickerdoodles. advil p.m. coca-cola and hershey's milk chocolate. gabriel. jenn, meredith, kimberly and mary. mahjong. bodycology pure white gardenia foaming bodywash. cheap trick. martina mcbride. aerosmith. acdc. grace.

i love how much of the good was caused by camaraderie. that's a rare thing for me, to be able to appreciate people so well. i am so, so pleased that i could do so this month.

February 25, 2015

the thirtieth question

this was written a few years ago for another's blog. i'm republishing it here because the link to the original post is no longer good.

What lessons have you learned through the years?

Don’t play football with a bunch of boys if you’re the only girl, a pint-sized one at that. Especially when school starts in like two weeks. Especially when you’re the go-to gal on the swim team for a particular leg of a relay. You might break your collarbone. Or something. And chances are really good that you’ll be out for the whole season.

Run. Every day. There will come a day where you won’t be able to do this. Or want to. Relish the days you can. That high that comes afterward? That windedness? The physical exhaustion paired with that glorious tingling sensation coursing through your body? Those glutes? Those are beautiful things. You’ll miss them.

Speaking of muscles… When I was fourteen, I weighed seventy pounds. I had three percent body fat. Yes, three. That I was twenty pounds lighter than the norm worried my doctor and he put me on an Ensure regimen. And I ate, desperately. Burgers and pizza and pasta. Daily. To counter the three to five thousand meters I swam daily, depending on the time of year. I despised the flatness and straightness of my figure. I ogled the litheness and length, the strength of the boys on ours and the opposing teams. I studied the curvaceous and muscular figures of the girls I swam with and against. I ate. Poorly. And now, at over forty with some thirty percent body fat, I wish like hell I could say I was twenty pounds underweight. That my body was a little flatter and a lot straighter. That I could’ve, should’ve taken better care of myself.

Regret sucks. Do your damnedest to avoid it. 

If he matters to you—really, really matters—give the boy what he wants. Even if what he wants makes you unhappy. That unhappiness? Maybe it’ll only last a moment or two. Maybe if you don’t give him what he wants, you’ll be unhappy for a whole lot longer.  On the flip side of that… if he’s not giving you want you want, maybe he doesn’t really matter, in which case kicking him to the curb’s a really good idea.

There’s this thing called instinct. And it’s good. It generally leads you in the right direction. But don’t confuse it with temper. That’s a bad thing. It will almost always inspire you to go the wrong way. Sometimes it’s really hard to tell them apart.

Not every woman is destined for marriage and family. These are beautiful aspirations. Worthy. Lovely. But don’t become so obsessed with finding them that you forget to appreciate what you have. A friend told me once that she thought my disappointment with how my life has played out overshadows my witty personality and can make me appear cranky. I don’t mind the cranky. I do mind the disappointment. I mind that it casts a shadow on what makes me good. I don’t know how to shrug off that cloak. I spent my life trying to be normal when I wasn’t meant to be so. 

There are stories inside you. Don’t be afraid to tell them.

And most importantly, never, NEVER get a credit card.

February 19, 2015

all i do is worry

from the moment i wake up in the morning until i finally, finally fall asleep at night.

i worry about the friends battling leukemia and breast cancer... or the one who had a stroke so long ago who's having to readjust again, as he's in his seventies now, to the limitations brought on by that stroke. i worry for the friends who care for these people... who love them. i worry for my parents. for my brother. for his children. for my munkle--my great uncle way up there in utah... the closet thing i've got to a grandfather... i worry he'll be leaving us soon. i worry for my friends... the ones who live so far from their families that they rarely get to see them. or the ones who work two jobs and go to school to study a subject for which they no longer care because the schooling will be over sooner and it will cost less and possibly yield a loftier paycheck in the end if they stay the course. the ones who've grown attached to a pet in a matter of days and had to put the animal down because it got sick.

i worry that i'll disappoint my parents. that i'll be late to my hair appointment, thereby making my stylist late for every appointment after that. that i'll say something stupid or offensive or just be too loud and obnoxious. that i'll wreck mercy bocephus--my new-to-me car of three months or so. that i'll wreck things with this boy, who's new-to-me for a month or so. that i'll not turn all the appropriate documents over to my c.p.a. so she can calculate my taxes. that i'll just be wrong. that. i'll. just. be. wrong.

i've a text saved in my phone. it's a list i made several years ago of the things people like about me. i updated it the other day with a text the boy had sent me: ways i make him happy so that i can keep doing those things...

i'm pretty clumsy... with things. with people. i'm either much too careful because of it. or not careful at all.

this morning my father asked me, are you being careful with the boy?

sure, i said. yes, daddy.

and always at the back of my mind today was just how clumsy i can be.

i told the boy my father'd warned me to be careful. that i was trying really hard not to be crazy or whatever.

and after we'd talked, i texted him: don't let me mess this up. :] okay?

i got this reply: jenn... relax. i don't do drama and i don't do crazy. relax.

i wanted to say that you're talking to a writer: i've got a degree in drama and crazy. instead i just said: yeah.

so... the list... the text he'd sent... it goes like this:

i like your honesty and your affection. i like the way you aren't afraid to tell me you miss me and think about me. i like your sense of humor and the fact that you get mine. i like how considerate you are, and i think you'd be there for me if i needed something.
i like you, jenn, just because you are you.

i've read that a dozen times tonight. i worry about how long it'll take for me to change his mind.

telling me to relax is like telling water to flow up instead of down. or the sun to rise in the west and set in the east. i. don't. know. how.

i worry that the very things that make him happy now... that honesty and affection and consideration... that compassion... the very things born of that worry... the only good that comes from it... will be the very things that alienate him in the end.

the good in my day

i read in a magazine or on a website or something... somewhere... about how one should write down the most beautiful thing about the day. and that looking at this list will help a person see her life differently, more positively.

bodycology pure white gardenia foaming bodywash. james, andy and jerry. adam, blake and pharrell. james and latasha. ralph lauren. bicycles. mass. the wonder twins. blueberry muffins. i did the laundry... ALL the laundry. scot. dirty dancing. kiani, mr. giles and mrs. wright. premium saltines and kraft american cheese slices. melissa. chevalier. scot. jackass and monkey. payday. hamilton, texas--cute little town... a bright spot on an impossibly long trek to lubbock on a very bleak day. cheddar's. melissa... again. greg, deanne and blaine. fudrucker's.
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