tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-160006282024-03-18T06:20:17.795-04:00Jen But Never JennCurbing the use of "Jenn" one post at a time.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.comBlogger494125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-48669923127174848192014-01-20T13:05:00.000-05:002014-01-20T13:11:23.437-05:00For Anyone in Need of a Good VomitI received a few nice emails from people after <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2014/01/year-of-dog.html">my recent post</a>, specifically about how lovely pet ownership is. One woman even wrote to tell me that I had inspired her to look seriously into rescuing a dog. Aww.<br />
<br />
But let me throw a small dose of reality on things, because I'd hate for people to turn around and be like, "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT ALL THE DISGUSTINGNESS. EXPECT A BOX FILLED WITH DIRTY PUPPIES AT YOUR DOORSTEP."<br />
<br />
Huck's dog walker just informed me that Huck has taken up the fantastic hobby of shit eating. And no, not just, "Oh, there's a little turd, let me sample it," but an enthusiastic fresh-is-best approach. How fresh? Huck gets around the three-second rule altogether by ensuring the poop of his canine pals never hits the ground.<br />
<br />
In other words, my dog is wheezing the juice:<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/nPn6sqGUM5A" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<br />
Jesus H. Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com453tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-74924530615570056012014-01-01T14:32:00.001-05:002014-01-01T14:32:51.967-05:00Year of the Dog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pmYfmCFYbF14nvHks-m3KVPGuHpCJrbaJOkpuKPu2piR37MpNKUggxEZ3gUO6hgJKMtVLAoaxq2hH_tEfXyw0FqbUNDM2B03wqf57XJaX8R8-7KB8JlVS5XkzSXdJyzW-iII/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-01-01+at+1.57.16+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pmYfmCFYbF14nvHks-m3KVPGuHpCJrbaJOkpuKPu2piR37MpNKUggxEZ3gUO6hgJKMtVLAoaxq2hH_tEfXyw0FqbUNDM2B03wqf57XJaX8R8-7KB8JlVS5XkzSXdJyzW-iII/s200/Screen+Shot+2014-01-01+at+1.57.16+PM.png" width="200" /></a></div>
Last New Year's Eve wasn't a particularly happy one. I had just returned from a nice Christmas with my parents but brought an awful cold home with me. I therefore decided to stay in that night rather than infect anyone else (not that I had massive New Year's plans anyway, truth be told).<br />
<br />
I didn't feel like I had a whole lot to look forward to in the New Year. I was weeks away from handing over all my money to someone who had betrayed me, all in order to keep the home that *I* had bought. I was stewing over the unfairness of it all; the consequence he faced for breaking our vows was walking away richer. But mostly, I felt like a moron for ever trusting him in the first place. I should have known. I should have never bailed him out of trouble those times. I should have insisted on a pre-nup. I should have dumped him when he never came home that one night. I should have left when he showed up late to our very first date. I should have, I should have ...<br />
<br />
I was calmly and dignifiedly wallowing in these thoughts on that New Year's evening when a minor incident turned me into a sobbing mess of First World self-pity:<br />
<br />
While attempting to put a new bulb in the overhead porch light, <a href="http://instagram.com/p/T6mP4Zgomk/" target="_blank">the entire thing came down except for the electrical wires that kept the heavy fixture precariously clinging to the ceiling of my porch</a>. The sky was quickly darkening as I stood on my step ladder holding the glass fixture over my head. As my hands were busy, my nose took it as an opportunity to drip uncontrollably, stinging and chapping my upper lip. Over and over again, I tried to get the damn fixture up without success. Gloves made it impossible to feel the spot where the light was supposed to latch onto, so I stubbornly kept at it even though my bare fingers were numb from the December cold.<br />
<br />
After an hour of frustrating effort, I was forced to leave the stupid fixture hanging there, where it swung about in the growing wind. I thought a flurried gust would surely pull the fixture too hard, the wiring would get ripped out, and an electrical fire would somehow ensue. I would die stupid and alone and the ex would walk away with the insurance money because the house hadn't been fully transferred into my name yet.<br />
<br />
The last part, especially, made me mad.<br />
<br />
And so I cried.<br />
<br />
I wondered why I was fighting so hard and relinquishing every bit of savings I had (and didn't have) in order to keep a house I was too inept to manage. I mean, I couldn't even change a lightbulb properly! I wondered why I was the one who had to deal with this shit by herself. Why was I the only one dealing with consequences. And why the fuck was I financing his latest romantic getaways. I wondered how I got myself into this stupid position with the stupid light fixture and stupid house and stupid life to begin with. At one point, I'm pretty sure I even screamed, "WHY!?!" in a<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWaLxFIVX1s" target="_blank"> moment of ridiculous drama that puts Darth Vader to shame</a>.<br />
<br />
And that's how I ended 2012: screaming and crying my sorry ass to sleep.<br />
<br />
The next day was infinitely better. With the promise of a new year, the arrival of a morning's light, and a build-up of mass hysteria purged from my system, I conquered the porch fixture. I never could get it back up, but thanks to phone consultations with my dad, a friend's husband, and the Internet (the trifecta!), I figured out how to turn off the power, remove the connected wiring from the fixture, and cap the wires. ALL BY MYSELF. I even took a frigging picture of it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhz-mYmjYJFjHWTAID_ic4FQJ1Nb78p7RS_9B68Q7ggZ82daJnlccooy64NmKqmX6ZSI1JnmG5EmeWxcNf5aPYDFX1EeViePrR-SOZt-KW2mmJM4rDxNYujvnm6uzlzoGhSyk/s1600/Porch+Light+Wires.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhz-mYmjYJFjHWTAID_ic4FQJ1Nb78p7RS_9B68Q7ggZ82daJnlccooy64NmKqmX6ZSI1JnmG5EmeWxcNf5aPYDFX1EeViePrR-SOZt-KW2mmJM4rDxNYujvnm6uzlzoGhSyk/s1600/Porch+Light+Wires.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I capped those wires. Yes, yes I did.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<i>(Mind you, I didn't replace the light until later in the spring, but that's not the point.)</i><br />
<br />
It's amazing what <i>not</i> feeling helpless will do for a person, and that's something I've taken with me since that night.<br />
<br />
But onto the <i>real</i> point of this post ...<br />
<br />
Even though I didn't know it at the time, The Great Removal of the Porch Light wasn't the best thing to have happened that day. I wouldn't realize until months later that something else fantastic occurred on January 1, 2013.<br />
<br />
You see, my sweet Huck, the heartbeat at my feet, is a New Year's baby. Somewhere around the time that I was figuring out my breaker panel, my darling little dog was being born.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.arfontario.com/Adoptions.asp?Type=Dog" target="_blank">The rescue organization</a> took him in right away that day. He looked like this but smaller:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-JzaAivNmc-8t3TJcC4Gj4ddw3vxvjg0ZFb5zMeBX52_W4JcXgAj3GAuVjz9ksUReD5kWLW28uOj0p3iq6Y31jOy2Odrex-C9LtjLtvgeCqJxpqhCRROIYf2K7tgnD69tTni/s1600/Argyle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-JzaAivNmc-8t3TJcC4Gj4ddw3vxvjg0ZFb5zMeBX52_W4JcXgAj3GAuVjz9ksUReD5kWLW28uOj0p3iq6Y31jOy2Odrex-C9LtjLtvgeCqJxpqhCRROIYf2K7tgnD69tTni/s320/Argyle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And last night, curled on my bed as the old year softly drifted away, he looked like this:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnryFNN9w1cMv0KlD4YKcmGIxA0hHBKve695M4DAoGdg79WngRekm_XPFITbzievIJI7gpBvFjXbcxXI2JsrMO2F0LCxL94Emh6c9BpZkT8Z0gCC3qix14I-Al68Qwl-F_jIuT/s1600/Huck+New+Years+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnryFNN9w1cMv0KlD4YKcmGIxA0hHBKve695M4DAoGdg79WngRekm_XPFITbzievIJI7gpBvFjXbcxXI2JsrMO2F0LCxL94Emh6c9BpZkT8Z0gCC3qix14I-Al68Qwl-F_jIuT/s320/Huck+New+Years+2013.jpg" width="294" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
While this New Year's Eve was another quiet night in, it wasn't sad. It wasn't helpless. It wasn't drowning in self-pity. It wasn't wasted thinking bitterly about exes and poor decisions made.<br />
<br />
It was gratefully spent with one of the best little treasures to enter my life. It was serene. It was warm. It was a happy New Year's.<br />
<br />
What a difference a year makes.<br />
<br />
If you've seen <a href="http://instagram.com/jenbutneverjenn" target="_blank">my Instagram feed</a>, the fact that I love my dog should come as no surprise. I am, undoubtedly, obsessed with this little mutt of mine.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLrWp38XkPYrZ4gE8LEQHj5RJOlGap7hJFDpTsYC9RZRsfb63xUWmvT7LIt7K1a_Ozw0oCH33SywGsh-196yLAzAp0zXphbWEE_swesLznOjwfL7JiohwZUdpV_fSgCkX5za7P/s1600/Huck+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLrWp38XkPYrZ4gE8LEQHj5RJOlGap7hJFDpTsYC9RZRsfb63xUWmvT7LIt7K1a_Ozw0oCH33SywGsh-196yLAzAp0zXphbWEE_swesLznOjwfL7JiohwZUdpV_fSgCkX5za7P/s400/Huck+Collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
While I have many other people and things I appreciate, love and am overwhelmingly grateful for this year (including the <a href="http://instagram.com/p/bZPctFAojU/" target="_blank">best family ever</a>, <a href="http://instagram.com/p/X0JGsLgoq4/" target="_blank">terrific friends</a>, a good job, my <a href="http://instagram.com/p/WUpSt3Aoib/" target="_blank">health</a>, <a href="http://instagram.com/p/iSv_7tAotD/" target="_blank">a home of my own</a>, and <a href="http://instagram.com/p/f_AHl3Aohs/" target="_blank">my first ever food garden</a>), Huck / Huckers / Huck McDuck / Huckleberry / Dr. Huckstable / The Mother Hucker has been this year's standout.<br />
<br />
He makes me laugh. He's forced me to become patient. He's <a href="http://instagram.com/p/b7E_fVAohc/" target="_blank">taught me to let go</a>. He's shown me how to enjoy the moment. He gives me the best excuses to stop what I'm doing and play.<br />
<br />
He is 65 pounds of unconditional love. <br />
<br />
Today, on his first birthday, I'm making it all about him. We're about to hit the dog park. And then nap. And then play catch. And then eat treats, nap and play some more, including goofing around with the toys that annoyingly squeak. I'll even feed him his fave, tripe (or as I call it, Death in a Can). And we'll hang by the window and get mad at all the cats that dare to enter our fields of vision. And maybe a last-minute walk. And then we'll call it a day - a very good day.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year to you. Happy birthday, dear pal. You've made my year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4XF6fYg1ENACnaWd62Y7Pd3RKwNCtFbON3hTcbde0iGS6lGBL-GHInDSIvD6rzuEs1F4knuS-tE0IzJmeMIVZ_yjkz-U4D-JmJRGERYv30dXt0yWz7gwSQKnu9vWt-Z9oalIu/s1600/Huck+Snow+Dec+14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4XF6fYg1ENACnaWd62Y7Pd3RKwNCtFbON3hTcbde0iGS6lGBL-GHInDSIvD6rzuEs1F4knuS-tE0IzJmeMIVZ_yjkz-U4D-JmJRGERYv30dXt0yWz7gwSQKnu9vWt-Z9oalIu/s320/Huck+Snow+Dec+14.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com170tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-3502381926373249312013-09-06T10:47:00.000-04:002013-09-06T10:47:40.178-04:00I'm Sorry, I Have A Cold<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQb-zPdcG4TUtreuuq8MhO2A_qA1zEgrHBSMIuScJeNeQF_vP_XYhju5SBpL5No8ghrFwmdMiCn2RvvonAC6dB-2G-eFjU5zqmK1NJe7tii8TuG6QO38IzJJ8msnY_nWqXRbN/s1600/Monty_python_foot.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQb-zPdcG4TUtreuuq8MhO2A_qA1zEgrHBSMIuScJeNeQF_vP_XYhju5SBpL5No8ghrFwmdMiCn2RvvonAC6dB-2G-eFjU5zqmK1NJe7tii8TuG6QO38IzJJ8msnY_nWqXRbN/s200/Monty_python_foot.png" height="179" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Wikipedia: Monty Python</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I recently participated in some lame growing-older lady activities, namely looking at antique shops and perusing places that specialize in tea blends.<br />
<br />
I realize this puts me just a few steps away from wearing shawls and acquiring multiple cats. I've accepted that.<br />
<br />
Anyway, at one shop the elderly woman manning the counter was big on small-talk. After the obligatory mentions of weather and gardening (ah, yes, gardening. It's official: shawls and cats are in my immediate future), our attentions were turned to a noise just outside the store.<br />
<br />
There was cheering, chanting, and eventually, a glimpse of what was causing all the fuss (fuss! An old lady term! I should just start stocking up on Fancy Feast now.): some guys were trotting along the sidewalk; not quite goose-stepping, not quite Ukrainian dancing, but doing something confusingly in between. (If I was being literal, I guess that would make what they were doing ... Polish?) It was clearly some kind of stunt brought on by Frosh Week. I deduced this not from a Sherlock Holmesian brilliance, but from the fact they were all wearing T-shirts that had "FROSH 13" written across them. Indubitably.<br />
<br />
"Wow," I said to the shopkeeper. "Reminds me of the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqhlQfXUk7w" target="_blank">Ministry of Silly Walks</a>."<br />
<br />
She blinked.<br />
<br />
"From Monty Python. You know. That sketch," I smiled.<br />
<br />
"Oh! Now, there's a name I haven't heard in a while. What else did they do, again?" she asked, keenly.<br />
<br />
And then my brain betrayed me, as it always fucking does.<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6FOtFHF5WdQ" target="_blank">SIT ON MY FACE, AND TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME...</a></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
"Ughh," I stammered ....<br />
<br />
<i>I'LL SIT ON YOUR FACE, AND TELL YOU I LOVE YOU, TOO ....</i><br />
<br />
"Well, they did the one about ..."<br />
<br />
<i>I LOVE TO HEAR YOU ORALIZE WHEN I'M BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
"... well, wow, they had so many sketches. And movies. It's hard to pick just one ..."<br />
<br />
<i>LIFE CAN BE FINE IF WE BOTH SIXTY-NINE ....</i><br />
<br />
"They're a funny group from Britain, right?" she said. "I just love British humour! It's so clever. So witty!"<br />
<br />
And - finally - a different sketch (something completely different, if you will) came to me.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWBUl7oT9sA" target="_blank">"I fart in your general direction!"</a> I screamed in her face.<br />
<br />
"Oh, yes, right," she politely replied, having no idea what I was talking about.<br />
<br />
I really shouldn't ever leave my home.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com92tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-83801015055365908032013-08-07T18:14:00.000-04:002013-08-07T18:14:04.153-04:00Overheard: Please Let This Be An Innocent Three's Company Kind Of Misunderstanding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/OMGRalph_Furley.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/OMGRalph_Furley.gif" /></a></div>
Was just in the backyard, hanging out with <strike>my only friend</strike> the dog when I heard this conversation over the fence, a couple doors down. These people are in their 50s or 60s and I see the husband almost everyday while walking Huck:<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Woman:</b> You told me we'd try.<br />
<br />
<i> *I perk up and pause the ritual post-work scratching of Huck's chest. Huck is not amused.* </i><br />
<br />
<b>Man:</b> What? Now?<br />
<br />
<b>Woman:</b> Don't be an idiot.<br />
<br />
<b>Man:</b> Well, you're bringing it up <i>now</i>.<br />
<br />
<b>Woman:</b> They say it's better to talk about things after the fact, when you're not in the heat of the moment.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Man:</b> Heat of the moment? When was that?<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Woman:</b> I guess that's our problem. There's no heat, sir. No heat at all.<br />
<br />
<b>Man:</b> Fine. FINE! This weekend, alright?<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Woman:</b> Good. I'll pick up Vaseline from the Costco.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com229tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-1757606027133363262013-07-11T20:06:00.001-04:002013-07-11T20:11:46.747-04:00I Could Watch This All DayI'll put a somewhat more meaningful post up later, but for now, this will do just fine:<br />
<br />
<iframe class="vine-embed" src="https://vine.co/v/h7lrlrthxb7/embed/simple" width="320" height="320" frameborder="0"></iframe><script async src="//platform.vine.co/static/scripts/embed.js" charset="utf-8"></script><br />
<br />
(Hover over the top-left of the clip to select the speaker and turn on the sound. If it still isn't coming through, <a href="https://vine.co/v/h7lrlrthxb7">click on the original</a>.)Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com57tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-61332973501028241962013-06-21T15:47:00.000-04:002013-06-21T15:47:03.522-04:00This Post Is Pretty Much Just Videos... because words don't quite describe how great things are right this second.<br />
<br />
This is me right now:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DY_DF2Af3LM" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
Totally happy, with exactly zero fucks to give.<br />
<br />
Why? Because 2012, the year that shat on my chest after eating at a questionable taco stand, now finally feels over. I know it's June 2013, but it's taken this long to clean up that whole mess. Today, I can say:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I just got paid by two clients whom I had been waiting on forever.</li>
<li>I'm gainfully employed and officially start full-time on Monday.</li>
<li>The house is securely in my name only, and I'm on a mission to destroy its mortgage.</li>
<li>I got a judge-approved divorce order. D-Day becomes official in a couple weeks.</li>
</ul>
<br />
And so I say:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/12VUjgYMm1U" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
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<a href="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9EcjWd-O4jI" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
And:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/waacof2saZw" width="420"></iframe><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
And:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/etviGf1uWlg" width="420"></iframe><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://flash.sonypictures.com/shared/tv/seinfeld/myspace/comments/animated_elaine.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
(As you can see, my happy place embarrassingly resides in the pop culture wasteland of 1990 - 1992.)<br />
<br />
Have an awesome weekend - I know I will!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-45189153449172275212013-05-28T16:00:00.002-04:002013-05-28T19:42:01.240-04:00An Update For Those Who Still Accidentally Come To This Site<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Heyo!<br />
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So, yesterday, my dog ran away. <strike>WHY DO ALL THE BOYS LEAVE ME? </strike>The back gate was somehow left open, I hadn't noticed, and Huck bounded out to freedom while I was inside - eating, n'est pas. When I glanced out the window and saw the gate, I just about died and did one of those silent screams you only have in nightmares and dreams about making out with your gross old boss. </div>
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I ran outside without any shoes on and ... thankfully, Huck was only at the end of the street. He was running his happy little heart out toward me while an old man - clearly spooked by a goofy dog on the loose and convinced Huck was coming for <i>him</i> - beelined to the other sidewalk, swearing in Greek, and nearly tripped in the process. If I hadn't been so overwhelmed with losing and then finding my dog within the span of 30 seconds, I probably would have laughed at it all - because there is nothing quite as funny as <strike>old people tripping</strike> Huck in a moment of joy. </div>
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If I had lost Huck, at least there would be a solid Plan B to turn to: There is enough shed hair in this place to build another dog. It's so gross ... and, yet, still so much better than cleaning the bathroom during my married days. I won't expand on that further. No, wait, I will: </div>
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In any case, I've added another DIY level of security to the back gate, making it a little harder for this to happen again. I think.</div>
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Anyway, since you last saw him (unless you follow my <a href="http://instagram.com/jenbutneverjenn" target="_blank">All Huck All The Time Instagram Feed</a>!), Huck has managed to gain an amazing 24 pounds in two months - which is astounding because his diet only consists of kibble. And my sandals. And any and every shred of paper in the house. And that bottle of green food dye that I didn't notice he had until I walked over to my wool carpet and saw that it looked drastically different. </div>
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<i>Sigh</i>. Mother Nature knew what she was doing when she made puppies - being way too cute is their best defence against being murdered.</div>
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Whereas Huck has been packing on the pounds (but still looks pretty skinny ... <i>bitch</i>), I've been slowly losing them. I've been downgraded from Marineland Attraction Fat to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beI-DpQxv0s" target="_blank">Season Eight Chandler Fat</a>. Hurrah! Still a ways to go, but I hope to one day take a picture of myself smiling while holding out the stretched waistband of the <strike>tent</strike> pants I used to wear. That same day, I think I'll also <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Y_b1zuEFiI" target="_blank">wash my hair in a waterfall</a> and put gum in my mouth by bending it on my tongue:</div>
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So, yeah, there's that.</div>
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I've shifted from sticking to freelance work to now actually looking for full-time opportunities. I'm hoping within the next month or so, I'll have found the right fit. I love freelancing, but waiting to get paid "whenever" vs. having a steady paycheque has become a little too much of a struggle - plus there are some things I've applied for that would be really cool to do, so we'll see! I've <a href="http://www.jennifereve.com/" target="_blank">updated my portfolio site at Jennifereve.com</a> (yes, it still needs a bit of work) should any of you fine, random people of the Internet know someone in Toronto who is looking for a writer / marketer / communications / self-depricating type - pass it along!</div>
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I'm also officially one-year separated from ___________ (fill in your own blank! I did!), which means divorce proceedings are now just a matter of the court getting to it ... and how long that will be, I have no idea. But it's definitely something I'm looking forward to so that I can close that sad sack chapter and move on. I had thought about making a big blog post about Then vs. Now, what's changed since then and what hasn't, but .... <i>meh</i>. For now, I just don't really care. Oh, for sure, there are things that I'd like to and will probably talk about - particularly some lessons learned from that marriage and divorce that hopefully others can avoid, but I'm not ready or willing to drop those beats yet. </div>
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But in all, I feel pretty darn lucky to have what I have in my life, starting first and foremost with family and friends. I had a visit from my folks a little while ago and, man, did I ever win the parent lottery. I think I need to convince them to write a book about how to do what they do, because the world needs more of it. Seriously, all problems in life can be solved by Joe and Marie in a five-day visit.</div>
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Ok ... that's it for another two months. Or not. I do hope to get back to this just-for-fun writing stuff in a more consistent way, if only for an excuse to look up animated gifs - like this one!:</div>
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See ya!</div>
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-81436986625471234472013-03-26T11:22:00.000-04:002013-03-26T11:22:05.803-04:00Meet The New Boy In My LifeI've become pretty darn lousy at this blog upkeep thing ... and I'm not sure if that's about to get worse or better ... because, now, I'm head-over-heels and all-consumed with a special someone.<br />
<br />
Meet Huck.<br />
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Ah, Huck, the name built for limericks. While you'd think that was my intention, I actually named him after Huckleberry Finn, the Mark Twain character. I was originally going to go with Ponyboy (a la <i>The Outsiders</i>) but the more I've gotten to know this little bugger, the more a Huckleberry he's become. I will, however, always advise this dog to stay gold.<br />
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The stats on Huck:<br />
<ul>
<li>He's a rescue from an organization called <a href="http://arfontario.com/Adoptions.asp?Type=Dog" target="_blank">A.R.F. Ontario</a>.</li>
<li>He's just shy of three-months old.</li>
<li>We think he's a boxer-shepherd mix, but a few people have pointed out he has some mastiff qualities, too. Bring on the big poops.</li>
<li>He's probably about 14 lb. right now with the potential to become a whole lot bigger in the coming months.</li>
<li>Napping (complete with feet-wiggling dreams) is a favourite past-time, followed by munching on smoked rawhide bones and hooves, followed by farting.</li>
<li>He is not a fan of car rides, the plastic squeaky toy I bought him, or how those poor kids STILL haven't learned how their long-winded dad met their mother, already.</li>
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Huck is so sweet, I can barely stand it. He has a lot of nice manners and a willingness to please, but I'll be starting official puppy training next week so that he'll be the dearest and happiest dog on the block.<br />
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I'm so in love.<br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-80001420632622365792013-01-30T15:33:00.000-05:002013-01-30T15:33:22.458-05:00Yes! We Have No Bikini Stories Today!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am back from vacation, all. And, yes, it was a dandy time even though the resort lacked the Argentinian football team that I was pinning all my slutty hopes and dreams on.<br />
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Sigh. For shame.<br />
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And since I'm disappointing you with that, I'll add one more sad fact into this blog post:<br />
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I didn't wear the homemade bikini and therefore avoided the humiliation that was <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2013/01/im-basically-worst-unemployed-person.html" target="_blank">greatly foreshadowed in my previous post</a>.<br />
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Sorry.<br />
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I brought it.<br />
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I put it on.<br />
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And then <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2011/01/new-year-new-humiliations.html" target="_blank">I felt a familiar feeling</a>.<br />
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I looked in the mirror in the hotel room and could see that I was already starting to sport the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coppertone_girl" target="_blank">Coppertone Girl</a> look. But there wasn't an adorable black poodle tugging at my bottoms, but my old nemesis, gravity. And this was without the weight of water dragging my drawers down, so Newton only knows how long they would have lasted had I <strike>dog-paddled to the swim-up bar</strike> done a few laps.<br />
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And, yet, I still considered going out to the pool like that. <b>For the blog.</b> Because I am that much of a whore for an awful story to tell.<br />
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But then a voice I so rarely hear peeped up.<br />
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<i>"Jen ... what about your diggimy?"</i><br />
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"My what?"<br />
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<i>"Diggimy. Or is it dimnity?"</i><br />
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"Come again?"<br />
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<i>"You know, that thing that you're supposed to have? The belief that you're better than that so you act better than that. Diginimy."</i><br />
<br />
"Wait. Do you mean DIGNITY?"<br />
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<i>"Yeah! That's it! Dig-ni-ty,"</i> the voice said, familiarizing itself with the word for the first time in years.<br />
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I glanced back at myself in the mirror and could see that the voice was right. That there was no diggimy or dimnity in exposing anyone's eyes to the Bikini Bottom Blowout that was getting worse by the second.<br />
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So I instead put on what was my most matronly of bathing suits and promptly burned the only skin the suit exposed, my armpits.<br />
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<br />
Sorry.<br />
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But the trip was overall pretty fun. So fun in fact that certain details cannot be revealed or I'd be straight-up murdered by my travel buddy. If I were to edit out any words that would require a <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2008/02/imaginations-arent-always-good-things.html" target="_blank">Daddy Disclaimer</a>, the trip could be summarized as: tequila, sun, ceviche, tequila, catamaran, Americans, tequila, sunburn, weird ice cream, tequila, mojito, tequila, Thank-God-no-one-here-has-a-camera.<br />
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Weeeee!<br />
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And now I'm back and trying to settle into reality.<br />
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Weeeee?Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-72933706225991740742013-01-16T13:00:00.000-05:002013-01-16T13:00:08.477-05:00Happy Birthday To My Mom! Now Let's All Look At Her Ass.<br />
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(My hot mamma, about 40 years ago. And, yes, she looks exactly the same now.)<br />
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Happy Birthday to the best mom anyone could ask for!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-36976571509326213262013-01-14T15:58:00.002-05:002013-01-14T15:58:50.329-05:00I'm Basically The Worst Unemployed Person Ever<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUU73XRv6l9zcg0TcX8UiNgDCMz8bPwJtUuDyAuGBqju1ee7J5nLhkiH4CXz8gEuG8A3eWIfvRYnppg-_Ko_OV8FYpVmAkuQ3O14sXLm1qE_crMteR-audVupfPhXVbk0BPnyo/s1600/tequila+shots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUU73XRv6l9zcg0TcX8UiNgDCMz8bPwJtUuDyAuGBqju1ee7J5nLhkiH4CXz8gEuG8A3eWIfvRYnppg-_Ko_OV8FYpVmAkuQ3O14sXLm1qE_crMteR-audVupfPhXVbk0BPnyo/s1600/tequila+shots.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Image Source: <a href="http://sf.funcheap.com/tequila-tasting-taco-night-north-beach/" target="_blank">FunCheapSF</a></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
... because instead of refining my résumé for the millionth time and glumly living off of Sapporo Ichiban, I'm going to Mexico this week.<br />
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HEEEEEEEEEEEE!<br />
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It's my incredibly irresponsible way of rewarding myself for not having a job or a husband anymore. (And I must say, I've really excelled at both.)<br />
<br />
I'm going with a girlfriend who also had a crappy 2012. We've vowed to make it one of those trips where the details of what goes on during it aren't allowed to be shared with anyone we know, and that <i>probably</i> includes "The Internet". (Sorry.) Just know that in reality, I will most likely spend at least two days of this vacation watching <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3m-oWKD1dQ" target="_blank">episodes of <i>Friends </i>dubbed into Spanish</a> in the hotel room while I recover from a sunburn brought on by falling asleep by the pool. But let's all at least <i>pretend</i> that I'm going to have a wild and glorious time in the land of sun and tequila, ok?<br />
<br />
After booking the last-minute deal, we started diving further into the reviews of the resort and there was one - a complaint - that gave both of us hope that it may indeed be a dandy of a trip after all:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
... everything was great until a new group of guests came in, which unfortunately included <b>a couple Argentinian football teams.</b> These guys were interested in anything in a skirt ... </blockquote>
<br />
To which my friend and I responded:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/illK6U.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/illK6U.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Oh, please, Baby Jesus, make it so.<br />
<br />
And if going to Mexico isn't indulgent enough for someone with no income, yesterday I went and got eyelash extensions (so that I didn't have to bother with mascara on the trip), a manicure and a pedicure.<br />
<br />
You see, I received a bit of Christmas money from my grandfather, and I'm pretty sure at the bottom of the cheque it said, <i>"For whoring it up."</i> - so I kind of <i>had to</i> spend it on this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qBva4-qxBRgS3_MR5u1qYvkZ8Ge2IoBh6p-LdgR_seLraSdNHCZFAxhr2oMnDl1MmIbGkYJzuLYJDdY-Wx58TqyHJnB1k_Ar2vH3vw3LxgGQVGS0x7t4819WSfyvijWHai_v/s1600/Jen+with+Lashes+and+Nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qBva4-qxBRgS3_MR5u1qYvkZ8Ge2IoBh6p-LdgR_seLraSdNHCZFAxhr2oMnDl1MmIbGkYJzuLYJDdY-Wx58TqyHJnB1k_Ar2vH3vw3LxgGQVGS0x7t4819WSfyvijWHai_v/s320/Jen+with+Lashes+and+Nails.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>Local Business Plug: </i>I am wearing zero make-up in the picture, and look at how dolled-up my eyes look! If you want to get <a href="http://www.balancedbeaute.com/" target="_blank">eyelash extensions in Toronto</a>, I highly recommend Balanced Beaute - she is so good, won't make you look cartoonish, and is probably one of the most affordable pros in the city. Yay!<br />
<br />
My other bit of prep work from this trip actually saved me money: not buying food. Not buying food meant I couldn't eat anything, which resulted in me going down a glorious 11 pounds since Christmas. Thanks, starvation! High five, desperation! This weight will all come screaming back on as I stuff my face at the resort's buffet and swim-up bar, but whatever.<br />
<br />
The final thing I did in anticipation of going to Mexico involved harnessing my very novice skills as a seamstress: I made my own bikini. I can already smell the <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/search/label/Humiliation%20101" target="_blank">humiliation</a> that will surely happen while wearing this. Not simply because it's a bikini (GAH!) but because I chose the fabric based on how pretty it was and not based on the trivial matter of how well it deals with water. Heh. So, you have that account to look forward to, readers.<br />
<br />
I'll probably do one more tiny post this week, but that will likely be it until I get back. And then hopefully I'll become a bit more regular with the updates and thoughts and first-world gripings after that.<br />
<br />
Your notes from my <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2013/01/the-year-that-was.html" target="_blank">previous post</a> were all really appreciated. How did such nice people end up stumbling on this blog? Boy, I'm lucky.<br />
<br />
Adios for now, muchachos!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-77626729106086561682013-01-04T11:58:00.000-05:002013-01-04T11:58:39.585-05:00The Year That Was<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4-T_swt436MCz20dNVUaVoW3nIANgUm7_Bd9nkOS3MKn_h10N_qfyFbrb0qYyDsTu9T3SosjxRyOzGIhbTPweWppHaAKkyIhoKdCi34DzeeHvoo2ZjTY2KqDr2sUHqBFmulz/s1600/Blog+Update+JenButNeverJenn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4-T_swt436MCz20dNVUaVoW3nIANgUm7_Bd9nkOS3MKn_h10N_qfyFbrb0qYyDsTu9T3SosjxRyOzGIhbTPweWppHaAKkyIhoKdCi34DzeeHvoo2ZjTY2KqDr2sUHqBFmulz/s1600/Blog+Update+JenButNeverJenn.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MAN HANDS is BACK!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hello.<br />
<br />
So, it's been a while, right?<br />
<br />
First, I want to thank everyone who commented or wrote to me over the past few months. I appreciate the notes. You're all dollies. I also apologize for the fact that I basically responded to no one like the ungrateful slob I am. I guess I mostly didn't know what to say.<br />
<br />
Perhaps I haven't written back or updated this blog because I didn't want this place to rival the depressing vibe of a departing gate in the Las Vegas airport. Don't get me wrong, my life really isn't that bad (in fact, I'm a lucky person in a million, zillion ways) but I just didn't have it in me to put on a brave, smiling digital face for everyone. It's tiring enough to do that in real life.<br />
<br />
I was also worried that if I turned to the ol' blog during this time, I'd use it to vent and lay out some dirty, dirty <a href="http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/82812239/" target="_blank">forklift-foot</a>-level dirty laundry about a certain someone and that would interfere with this whole 'taking the high road' facade I'm trying to keep up.<br />
<br />
With the exception of some very recent paper signing and key-handing-overs, I haven't seen Patrick since <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2012/05/oh-internet-things-you-dont-know.html" target="_blank">he moved out in May</a>. Well, that's not quite true. I was out one day and spotted him with his girlfriend downtown. (<i>It is taking a fair bit of willpower not to add adjectives and a different use of nouns to that sentence</i>. *<i>HighRoadHighRoadHighRoadHighRoad...*</i>)<br />
<br />
This GIF perfectly demonstrates how that encounter went:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://imgur.com/I5p9t"><img alt="" src="http://i.imgur.com/I5p9t.gif" title="Hosted by imgur.com" /></a>
<br />
<br />
Yep. I hid. It was either that or ... I don't even know. A million savage / glorious / humiliating / underwhelming / regretful things come to mind.<br />
<br />
We've essentially only been communicating through very civil e-mails and lawyers. And I'm totally, totally cool with that. I probably should be bothered that I haven't had any real contact with the person I spent eight years with, but ... I'm not. I guess that's what happens when you don't want someone in your life anymore.<br />
<br />
Besides the super-fun annihilation of my marriage, the agency I worked at and really enjoyed working at all but closed its doors. Despite having an amazing team that was doing great work, some shit happened behind the scenes that was beyond our control and the bulk of us - including yours truly - wound up without a job. This, as I was paying lawyer fees out my ass and buying Patrick out of the house.<br />
<br />
Oh, and<i> just as tragic</i>, I found my first white hair. Not grey. White. Like a fucking piece of dental floss sprouting out of my scalp.<br />
<br />
So, to recap, I'm:<br />
<ul>
<li>divorcing</li>
<li>unemployed</li>
<li>broke</li>
<li>about to turn into the <a href="http://ec.wikia.com/wiki/The_Crypt_Keeper_(TV_Show)" target="_blank">Crypt Keeper</a></li>
</ul>
Ain't that just a bit of terrific.<br />
<br />
But 2012 wasn't all a shit show. A year never is. You especially realize how small and stupid your complaints are when, sadly, other people in the world and your community have faced truly horrible things that we can't even wrap our heads and hearts around.<br />
<br />
So, some of the good stuff that happened included:<br />
<ul>
<li>I got to see my <a href="http://instagram.com/p/QgA-wSgoru/" target="_blank">friends</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/p/MlaEDKAosE/" target="_blank">family</a> at their very, stellar best. I am so tear-jerkingly lucky to have some really solid, wonderful, beautiful <a href="http://instagram.com/p/SKZVucgojx/" target="_blank">people</a> in my corner and in my life. They're basically <a href="http://instagram.com/p/ONQunJgova/" target="_blank">the best humans on earth</a>. Fact.</li>
<li>I had a job that I really loved (well, most of the time) that gave me the chance to <a href="http://instagram.com/p/OfLLnpAogw/" target="_blank">work on cool projects</a> while paying me well enough that I was able to save a bunch of money to ...</li>
<li>... keep my <a href="http://instagram.com/p/Mg_uzAgohb/" target="_blank">lovely</a> <a href="http://instagram.com/p/S4qKUBAoj_/" target="_blank">home</a> and buy it from Patrick. Part of the buy-out is done which means the deed (and mortgage, hurrah) is transferring solely into my name (maiden name, y'all!) now.</li>
<li>I met some<a href="http://instagram.com/p/NCNHHQAosV/" target="_blank"> amazing people</a> when I was with the agency, including someone who is now <a href="http://instagram.com/p/MrOgp6AotO/" target="_blank">a really good friend</a>. He's happily married (to a woman I'm pleased to also now call my friend) and Brazilian which makes him <strike>almost</strike> exactly like a gay BFF. I also now know more random facts about Brasil than any Canadian who ever existed and have consumed more <a href="http://instagram.com/p/LqoxPNAoiT/" target="_blank">Caipirinhas</a> in 2012 than in all my previous years combined. My liver is not amused.</li>
<li>I listened to a fuck-tonne of music, discovered new bands and have basically become one with Tina Turner. I <a href="http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL61D6BCCDBD531DD0" target="_blank">made a playlist</a> of what I've been listening to on repeat if you're interested in hearing what the soundtrack of my life is like (but the song I've been listening to ad nauseam is at the bottom of this post).</li>
<li>I enjoyed some nice walks home and <a href="http://instagram.com/p/Ne2bzsgopq/" target="_blank">stops in the park</a> during a beautiful summer and even got myself a bicycle. Now if only I had the courage to ride it on streets containing cars.</li>
<li><a href="http://instagram.com/p/RtwAzggoh2/" target="_blank">Romney not getting bloody elected</a>. Yes, even us little Canadians care about that.</li>
<li><a href="http://instagram.com/p/R3sRCjAov5/" target="_blank">I got my first thing ever from Tiffany's</a> (from my <i>actual</i> gay BFF). Appropriately, it's a vessel for alcohol.</li>
<li>I experienced <a href="http://instagram.com/p/PE6P84govm/" target="_blank">Ontario cottage life</a> not once but twice this summer. I think I'll have to make it an annual thing.</li>
<li>I ate all kinds of stuff and in true hipster fashion <a href="http://instagram.com/p/RvalF4AopJ/" target="_blank">took pictures of most of it</a>. How cool of me.</li>
</ul>
<div>
So ... I really do have plenty of things to be happy about.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Which brings us to the next question: <b>What's next?</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I mostly don't know. But I'm thinking:</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>I obviously have to get my career back on track. Or not. There are days when I seriously consider applying to the neighbourhood grocery store, becoming a checkout girl, and not giving a flying fuck about having career aspirations. And then there are days when I really want to afford HBO again.</li>
<li>I might have an opportunity to take a totally different spin in the <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2010/05/welcome-to-50s-housewife-experiment.html" target="_blank">50s Housewife Experiment</a> thing (clearly different, what with that whole lack of being a wife technicality and all. Heh.). I don't want to say too much about it as it might not happen, but it could be pretty funny. Or get me sued. We'll see. (And no, some of you have asked, I had nothing to do with <a href="http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/tv/other-shows/videos/dollie.htm" target="_blank"><i>Wives in Beehives</i></a>. I caught the show, though. It had potential but I was disappointed that the producers decided to take it in the tired 'lady dramz' direction. Boo.).</li>
<li>I'll probably get a dog. (!!!) I've wanted one forever and now that I don't live with someone with allergies, I'm free to make that happen. The idea of this makes me really, really, really happy.</li>
<li>A return to blog writing. I've missed it. I've missed you, whoever you all are.</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
And that's basically it. That's what's been going on and not going on. I'm sure to make Barbara Walter's Most Fascinating People list.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And you? How are you? Let me know.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iN-5XUqe1PQ" width="560"></iframe>
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<div>
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Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-19801691958566578512012-07-04T14:36:00.000-04:002012-07-07T17:30:34.389-04:00An Excerpt From My Never-To-Be-Published Children's Book"Good morning, Jen!" said The Old Friendly House.<br />
<br />
"Good morning, House!" said Jen as she dressed to go to work.<br />
<br />
"It sure was nice when your parents were here visiting," said The Old Friendly House.<br />
<br />
"Yes, it sure was," said Jen.<br />
<br />
"They replaced the filter in my air conditioning unit with a clean one!" said The Old Friendly House.<br />
<br />
"They caulked up my windows and sealed my leaks!" said The Old Friendly House.<br />
<br />
"They even cleaned up my yard!" said The Old Friendly House.<br />
<br />
"Yes, wasn't that wonderful of them?" replied Jen.<br />
<br />
"It sure was," said The Old Friendly House. "It was like an actual adult lived here."<br />
<br />
"Heh," said Jen.<br />
<br />
"But now they've left, haven't they?" asked The Old Friendly House.<br />
<br />
"Yes," said Jen. "It's just you and me now."<br />
<br />
<b>"OH GOOD,"</b> said The Old and Suddenly Not-So-Friendly House.<br />
<br />
And with that, The Old <strike>Friendly</strike> Asshole House let in a hoard of ants into the kitchen.<br />
<br />
"Try to ignore these!" cackled The Old Asshole House.<br />
<br />
"Ah, crap," said Jen.<br />
<br />
But The Old Asshole House wasn't done yet.<br />
<br />
"Come upstairs, Jen!" shrieked The Old Asshole House. "Come see what I'm doing now!"<br />
<br />
So Jen walked up the stairs.<br />
<br />
And opened the bathroom door.<br />
<br />
And discovered her toilet was flooding all over the floor.<br />
<br />
"BUAHAHAHAHAHAA!" hollered The Old Asshole House. "WELCOME TO HOME OWNERSHIP, MOTHERFUCKER!"<br />
<br />
And Jen winced.<br />
<br />
And the house laughed and laughed.<br />
<br />
"Mommy and Daddy aren't here to take care of this for you, are they?" snarked The Old Asshole House. "Let's see you deal with this, big girl!"<br />
<br />
So Jen stood there.<br />
<br />
And stood there.<br />
<br />
And then wandered off non-dealingly to blog about it.<br />
<br />
"Oh for fuck's sake," sighed The Old Asshole House.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-85504712027452186352012-05-15T20:58:00.000-04:002012-05-15T21:01:03.599-04:00Yeah, I've Still Got It<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvzFxGvxcjlmw4jWAxsRe12mkM0IRk9GqveDMmYC_Fr2zyyRlr-YoOJlzxznqzVftHCjkvYxT0W2E0ifCV3ZxLQmBTUWE5QcFPbaiv4S62QQ7RLhfV7Py-pods6xEAMdXaA0t/s1600/subway+ttc+crowd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvzFxGvxcjlmw4jWAxsRe12mkM0IRk9GqveDMmYC_Fr2zyyRlr-YoOJlzxznqzVftHCjkvYxT0W2E0ifCV3ZxLQmBTUWE5QcFPbaiv4S62QQ7RLhfV7Py-pods6xEAMdXaA0t/s200/subway+ttc+crowd.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: <a href="http://www.thestar.com/news/transportation/article/1158278--toronto-transit-downtown-relief-line-could-be-the-subway-suburbanites-crave" target="_blank">TheStar.com</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This morning when I was taking the crowded subway to work, I noticed in my peripheral that there was a man sitting across from where I was standing who was slowly checking me out.<br />
<br />
From the corner of my eye I could see that he was starting at my face, was making his way slowly down my bod, down my legs, all the way to my ankles and then back up again. He didn't seem to care about how obvious he was.<br />
<br />
It was a little boost of self-esteem, and I found myself casually trying to stand a little straighter as I oh-so-gently ran my fingers in my hair.<br />
<br />
And then I decided to glance directly at him.<br />
<br />
It turned out that he was asleep and was merely bobbing his head.<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ytCEuuW2_A" target="_blank">Yeaaaah, me</a>.</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com84tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-23238889037003422742012-05-11T08:52:00.001-04:002012-05-12T02:08:36.871-04:00Thank You<a href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16000628&postID=2854834090600189070" target="_blank">You guys are beyond lovely</a>. You're more awesome than all the <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2011/04/my-latest-first-world-outrage.html" target="_blank">cupcakes</a> and zombies and bacon in the world (although I've been told that burritos are the new bacon. Rest assured, you're better than all of those too).<br />
<br />
Thank you.<br />
<br />
My gift to you is to <i>not</i> predictably include a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TO48Cnl66w&ob=av2n" target="_blank">Dido</a> or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOgpT5rEKIU" target="_blank">Alanis Morissette</a> song in this post, rather to include one that is just simply fantastic that I hope you enjoy:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VNYiErKfKSg" width="420"></iframe>
Have an amazing weekend, everyone!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-28548340906001890702012-05-07T13:59:00.002-04:002012-05-07T18:40:02.560-04:00Oh, Internet, The Things You Don't Know ...<i>I've decided to edit this down and remove most of the post; the bulk of it probably should have just gone in a sparkly diary with a little pink lock.</i><br />
<br />
I'll just leave it as:<br />
<br />
1) Patrick moved out yesterday.<br />
2) I'm "not the same girl he married."<br />
3) There's more to it than that.<br />
4) I feel hurt, humiliated, and betrayed.<br />
5) I'm certain he feels sad, too.<br />
<br />
He's not a bad person, I'm just not the same girl he married; I'm so much better than that.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-3440841556179939982012-05-03T10:35:00.002-04:002012-05-03T10:37:05.940-04:00This Will Make Your DayStop whatever you're doing and play this right now. Trust.:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://nothingsgonnastopmenow.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmgQEvrH8VmuWwKN4qvFHBBmDrhHQCQLCYkzAMSk4zn0-gs7gGq-jwFpVd6O_q_-Lw26L31JnKrht7fICmS7op0ppKJzUjRfQT5LOVSXoduG73hswpLjPw9zJA9wlCE5_Mwz9/s400/Perfect+Stranger+Game.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="http://nothingsgonnastopmenow.com/">http://nothingsgonnastopmenow.com/</a>
<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-62998257807643482002012-04-25T09:09:00.001-04:002012-04-25T09:09:51.549-04:00Happy Secretary's Day! How's Your Vag?Care for a side of horrifying along with your morning coffee? Yes?! Your non-wish is my command.<br />
<br />
When you were preparing for your career, what kind of advice did you get? Take some courses? Dress for the job you want, not the one you have? Learn Photoshop already and <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/search/label/MS%20Paint%20Artistry" target="_blank">stop depending on MS Paint to relay all your visual thoughts</a>?<br />
<br />
Well, if it was 1959 and you were a secretary (that's old timey for "Administrative Professional") and were reading the career advice book, <i>The Executive Secretary</i> by Marilyn C. Burke, you'd learn that you could gain an important professional advantage by keeping the lady bits in check.<br />
<br />
I shit you not:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6c8Gcjn4b4MwzoUKH35_JLBrtkcCkYez_9r-csMikomGROHKYPbJR7EeAVSA3iTzd2YSBCeRmXEqot5wH_hcLHNzY3jEJRxbfRXzKFiW3ZWXC3GS0xkWA_hpcRDI8RFrMdSN/s1600/1950s+secretary+hygiene+advice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6c8Gcjn4b4MwzoUKH35_JLBrtkcCkYez_9r-csMikomGROHKYPbJR7EeAVSA3iTzd2YSBCeRmXEqot5wH_hcLHNzY3jEJRxbfRXzKFiW3ZWXC3GS0xkWA_hpcRDI8RFrMdSN/s400/1950s+secretary+hygiene+advice.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"Now that we are smartly dressed, our hair and nails well-groomed, and our faces at their best, we can ruin the entire effect in ways that even our "best friend won't tell us about" ... perspiration odor, unpleasant breath, or the telltale scent of carelessness about our feminine hygiene. So many of us are careless about unpleasant odors about our persons. We have a tendency to feel that "if I can't smell it, it isn't there." Unfortunately, unpleasant body and breath odors are like an unfaithful mate - the possessor thereof is quite frequently the last to know!"</i></td></tr>
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...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_OVrQFgiFhrqcM_5mB6uQTqZrBsyV7ZjZ3RinqKUiB3p1VDwMV-TuvE0wCY4DoNJi72BxxPtILSh-IGpLM290hLLCYlIzsFfWMaMYSM-J05Khho1k3suUEsTG35jPSadlfvt/s1600/personal+daintiness+secretary+1950s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_OVrQFgiFhrqcM_5mB6uQTqZrBsyV7ZjZ3RinqKUiB3p1VDwMV-TuvE0wCY4DoNJi72BxxPtILSh-IGpLM290hLLCYlIzsFfWMaMYSM-J05Khho1k3suUEsTG35jPSadlfvt/s400/personal+daintiness+secretary+1950s.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"Women must be even more careful about the unpleasant and very obvious odors that may accompany "that time of the month." A frequent changing of sanitary napkins and the use of any of the deodorant powders that are available for the express purpose will do away with any chance of offending during this period of the month."</i></td></tr>
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Luckily for secretaries concerned about "feminine daintiness", help is around the corner - one need only ask <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2010/05/world-of-no.html" target="_blank">the building's janitor for a helping hand</a>.<br />
<br />
Amazing.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-42204022124962622612012-04-19T11:25:00.001-04:002012-04-19T11:25:53.631-04:00"Brain-storming"Here's a fun picture I found in the 1948 career book, <i>How To Be A Successful Advertising Woman</i> by Mary Margaret McBride:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqdaHvmErgqTj41YJ7oNzcmtxWMuxWm-XcCRJvIOiKuU9t9wG0wqswqmPU-__5DFl8LQn3PCkXe6GysrzUgNjTWF_a2nmGhtv2WoSmjDJ8_4Xv0W2ext6LBfbzsrhcVWh3JrH/s1600/1950s+business+women+brainstorm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfqdaHvmErgqTj41YJ7oNzcmtxWMuxWm-XcCRJvIOiKuU9t9wG0wqswqmPU-__5DFl8LQn3PCkXe6GysrzUgNjTWF_a2nmGhtv2WoSmjDJ8_4Xv0W2ext6LBfbzsrhcVWh3JrH/s400/1950s+business+women+brainstorm.jpg" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"One agency technique of developing advertising-copy themes and merchandising and promotion programs is through idea-sessions, sometimes called "brain storms." The rule in brain-storming is absolutely no criticism. Anything goes. Nobody says "But that wouldn't work," or "How silly!" Try it yourself. Get a gang of your friends together - concentrate on a single problem. Watch how one good idea sparks another, how that sets off a third - and before you call it a day you may have some original and highly effective thinking on paper."</i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTaVaEjqVZFff9xjYZni9ZU8OQatOE2zPOm-63HNwBfL5oqNkmcjzMomYgoWGbkYZlB9ZYVB5az70T4MijzLsXskVyNgbaBmLcJszv_ovEM9LPEZ8z5gE7tcdLJRQyaFZQm26/s1600/stupid+idea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTaVaEjqVZFff9xjYZni9ZU8OQatOE2zPOm-63HNwBfL5oqNkmcjzMomYgoWGbkYZlB9ZYVB5az70T4MijzLsXskVyNgbaBmLcJszv_ovEM9LPEZ8z5gE7tcdLJRQyaFZQm26/s1600/stupid+idea.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsVr_Fm5HSMOK9sTUaja6hnzJjfJpzXNCwcXLN4Gaz-PAwFH87s64Cu5d9szmiPw_-02LHNIvs9Wm-5f41EP5L_LRc5ZA1imqzn78oFy_fvJqbPq0NSSfbblppAiayDD75B6g/s1600/unimpressed+1950s+business+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsVr_Fm5HSMOK9sTUaja6hnzJjfJpzXNCwcXLN4Gaz-PAwFH87s64Cu5d9szmiPw_-02LHNIvs9Wm-5f41EP5L_LRc5ZA1imqzn78oFy_fvJqbPq0NSSfbblppAiayDD75B6g/s1600/unimpressed+1950s+business+woman.jpg" /></a>Anyone else out there believe that the people who are adamant that "there are no bad ideas in a brainstorm" are the kind of people who exclusively come up with horrible suggestions? (Based on their expressions in the photo, I think the plump brunette and the annoyed blonde on the right agree with me. <i>That</i> is the look of people who have just heard a stupid idea. Trust me, I am sadly VERY FAMILIAR with those glares.) Under normal conditions, the contributions of the unimaginative would be Darwin'ed out of contention, and so they use this weird brainstorm rule to swaddle their ideas in bubblewrap and trot them on stage as if we were all at a body-positive open-mic poetry slam and not at a business meeting.<br />
<br />
<b>Jen's Jerk-off Opinion of the Day:</b> Crappy ideas shouldn't have a safe place.<br />
<br />
I'm not saying we should attack ideas mercilessly (in business, be kind! Always!), I'm just saying we shouldn't pretend they're just as valid as a really creative / thoughtful / strategic suggestion. If there's an obvious problem with an idea, shouldn't that be pointed out before the team dedicates any more time to it?<br />
<br />
<b>What do you think?</b><br />
<br />
Also ... don't you love it that in the picture above, "brain-storming" was still new enough to have quotation marks around it? Remember when they were so foreign to us that we had to use quoties around "web site" and "viral video" and "Spanx"? <i>Aww ... those sweet, slimmer days of yesteryear.</i>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-2339777989508556422012-04-05T09:30:00.002-04:002012-04-05T09:30:27.687-04:00What The Hell, Dude?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAxxlS8Gh2Gxch7gGbuvlzLbMFHYrY3ijnvSjz_3rfyznCi1Z3r5uAk7PcNbfeIc6szNewf6UhjEDoHGBld5SR87Zqn0l9IyLVbq5ArJ0NjVPc6vESm4TkrpmL4Ddy1mN7UGx/s1600/revlon+remington+rand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAxxlS8Gh2Gxch7gGbuvlzLbMFHYrY3ijnvSjz_3rfyznCi1Z3r5uAk7PcNbfeIc6szNewf6UhjEDoHGBld5SR87Zqn0l9IyLVbq5ArJ0NjVPc6vESm4TkrpmL4Ddy1mN7UGx/s200/revlon+remington+rand.jpg" width="143" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remington Rand ad <br />from the January 1953 <i>Charm</i></td></tr>
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That was the subject line of an e-mail I received from a blog reader who wanted to know what was up with the lack of food pictures and overly sentimental fawning for the oldy times on this <i>amazing</i> space on the Internet. <br />
<br />
There are a few well-known bloggers who have taken steps away from their public spaces because of things like divorce, death and depression.<br />
<br />
My absence is because I lost my goddamn mind:<br />
<br />
<b>I got a full-time job.</b><br />
<br />
What the HELL, dude?<br />
<br />
I know, right? It kind of came out of nowhere. I was minding my own business, freelancing without a care in the world, when BAM! Full-time employment.That's really how it happened, sound effect and all. I was freelancing for a <a href="http://www.espressoagency.com/" target="_blank">Toronto ad agency</a> for ten days, told the CEO that I should probably work there forever, she agreed and said that was her secret plan all along, and all of a sudden I'm wearing pants with a zipper and getting up before noon on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
What the HELL, dude?<br />
<br />
It did not hurt that I'm basically the most awesome employee ever who is oozing with talent. Well, that, and the CEO is a former boss of mine and someone that I'm good friends with. Heh. Welcome to Nepotism. Population: Me (And My Friends and Family).<br />
<br />
What the HELL, dude?<br />
<br />
Eh, that's getting tired. Enough of that. So, yeah. Not only have I been working full-time, I've been working, like, <i>double</i> full-time. The agency is so swamped with work that I clocked 270 hours at the office in March, which is basically the sort of thing that happens right before a person runs into the street naked and starts pounding their hands in the pavement. Or something.<br />
<br />
But as I've gotten the hang of the role, started to make positive changes in the department, and knocking things off the clients' lists, things have been much more reasonable lately. While working at an ad agency is never going to be a 9 to 5 gig, I feel like things are normalizing.<br />
<br />
And y'all know I don't "do" normal.<br />
<br />
So, as long as I don't regularly end up staying in the office until 10 PM, I'll be embarking on a supremely flawed lifestyle experiment to compliment the <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2010/05/welcome-to-50s-housewife-experiment.html" target="_blank">50s Housewife Experiment:</a><br />
<br />
<b>The 50s Career Girl Experiment!</b><br />
<br />
Eee!<br />
<br />
I've been collecting oodles of books, magazines and articles that deal with working women in the 1950s, and it's time that I shared all this horrifying marvelousness. I'll attempt to follow career advice, business etiquette, marital advice, home keeping advice, and fashion and health suggestions that were given in the 1950s for "the girl with a job".<br />
<br />
It will be all kinds of wrong as I'll still be living in the land of laptops and cell phones, but I'll do what I can to explore the decade's advice and put it into practice. And, naturally, because of the industry I happen to work in, there will be a somewhat annoying desire <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/espressoagency/status/183285972404928512/photo/1" target="_blank">to label what I'm doing as "Mad Men'ing"</a> ... but, <i>eh, </i>if the shoe fits ...<br />
<br />
It'll be a little while before I put everything up here and set the experiment up officially, but I hope to share fun snippets and crazy tidbits here and there while I get this latest gong show rolling. And here's one to get us started, from the introduction to <i>The Executive Secretary: Techniques for Success in a Secretarial Career</i> by Marilyn Burke (1959):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbFP-Pntr2ryQHBsvNQWkB6fG6nMAwtoCCeXoibfYhyphenhyphendeXlL-XxjgoBaeruP0Qi3UOJCgu-GHD0bA423GH0z8PLKGSODVNeqopE9Z_ltKpPDZqQ0Iz1tVj1ZxIo13nGiWVoNl/s1600/women+executives+marilyn+burke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTbFP-Pntr2ryQHBsvNQWkB6fG6nMAwtoCCeXoibfYhyphenhyphendeXlL-XxjgoBaeruP0Qi3UOJCgu-GHD0bA423GH0z8PLKGSODVNeqopE9Z_ltKpPDZqQ0Iz1tVj1ZxIo13nGiWVoNl/s400/women+executives+marilyn+burke.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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What the HELL, dude?Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-71264705926971686302012-03-09T16:00:00.000-05:002012-03-09T16:00:36.218-05:00I'm Not Dead, But I've Been Busy... so, Internet, please tell me what I missed this week. I literally have no idea what cat video is meme'ing right now and that troubles me deeply.<br />
<br />
And <i>that</i> troubles me deeply.<br />
<br />
What were the highlights of this week? Did we get a peek of Snooki's bum(p)? What's the baby animal de jour? (it was hedgehogs last time I checked. Are hedgehogs still hot?? I need to know!) Are women in the States still allowed to have sex?<br />
<br />
I'm serious - I need a report!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-23509255668750921892012-03-02T07:23:00.005-05:002012-03-03T12:18:29.762-05:00Awful Things I Think #8239<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4CGKCwDdZLpbo_WX7ny6s7IVa4Gr0Lkv34tZnEmaKCAUDf56ecr9oGgurTsZ_j22fNQXnv7_e_MNOMnEIvU-00obVrWRzUggjmyfkfqx-xoDUVGLT49IFdeHDEe_UzljVMLM/s1600/TTC+Logo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD4CGKCwDdZLpbo_WX7ny6s7IVa4Gr0Lkv34tZnEmaKCAUDf56ecr9oGgurTsZ_j22fNQXnv7_e_MNOMnEIvU-00obVrWRzUggjmyfkfqx-xoDUVGLT49IFdeHDEe_UzljVMLM/s1600/TTC+Logo.gif" /></a></div>I wish the <a href="http://ttc.ca/" target="_blank">TTC</a> had the means to gently electrocute passengers who disobeyed the courtesy rules of public transit.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I have it all worked out. Here's a small example of crimes and suggested punishments, based on what I've seen just this week while 'riding the rocket':<br />
<div><ul><li>Wearing your backpack in a crowded subway: a wee reminder shock</li>
<li>Leaning on the poles when people are trying to hold onto them: a short buzz of electricity</li>
<li>Trying to get onto the subway while people are still filing out: a quick tazing</li>
<li>Pretending you don't notice the person with mobility issues who you should offer your seat to: a jaw-clenching jolt</li>
<li>Eating <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Durian" target="_blank">durian</a> on a streetcar: LEVEL 10 DEATH RAY</li>
</ul></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-17345053478259334222012-02-28T18:15:00.001-05:002012-02-28T18:35:33.910-05:00Vintage Dream Home Decor Inspiration x3<blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL0Dq_e50pcNgMTz0Ks5s_qtV_w22a6jJlqWRJfbdGebcUGrUJxj0bEn5ynfjKo7p5HyhtXKr11shfLDsf7lWezYy-AeP6ESilXzM0ZEXjY36gXCuuuz-M8qifbAA_FsApBON/s1600/Corporate+Whore+Alert+Appliances+Online.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="85" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL0Dq_e50pcNgMTz0Ks5s_qtV_w22a6jJlqWRJfbdGebcUGrUJxj0bEn5ynfjKo7p5HyhtXKr11shfLDsf7lWezYy-AeP6ESilXzM0ZEXjY36gXCuuuz-M8qifbAA_FsApBON/s200/Corporate+Whore+Alert+Appliances+Online.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Hello! The good people at the UK-based <a href="http://www.appliancesonline.co.uk/" target="_blank">Appliances Online</a> have asked if I could link to their <a href="http://www.appliancesonline.co.uk/smeg?cmredirectionvalue=smeg" target="_blank">Smeg appliances</a> in exchange for my weight in Marmite and warm beer. I've long loved the retrodorableness of Smeg, so it was a corporate whoring made in heaven.</blockquote><br />
Who's ready for some vapid consumerism?! I AM. I swear I didn't spend this much time looking at things I wanted to buy before <a href="http://pinterest.com/jenbutneverjenn/" target="_blank">Pinterest </a>came along. Now, looking at lovely things has practically become my hobby (and thanks to today's sponsored post, it's also my job. How great is that?).<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLviXEZfU326ltjblKsCFCBpnFas4wj-PyLOz3FIYL66xZcX_OJPoOtPDCzpgo9mPyidw8sXKVqHjQSvqxfYo4e748uTfr9dGaZRwncuLD8V4VqYK-30snvntEOhjZ071SMYh/s1600/annex+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLviXEZfU326ltjblKsCFCBpnFas4wj-PyLOz3FIYL66xZcX_OJPoOtPDCzpgo9mPyidw8sXKVqHjQSvqxfYo4e748uTfr9dGaZRwncuLD8V4VqYK-30snvntEOhjZ071SMYh/s200/annex+home.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>One of my reoccurring fantasies is that if I won the lottery (I'm talking about All-That-Is-Wrong-With-The-World money), I'd buy one of those <a href="http://www.realtor.ca/propertyDetails.aspx?propertyId=11566548&PidKey=1919920647" target="_blank">old homes in the Annex that has been split into several apartments</a> and renovate each unit to reflect a different decade. I'd then rent out the apartments temporarily to professionals looking to do period photo or film shoots, or to people who wanted to host a fun dinner party or bridal / baby shower with a retro-ish theme.<br />
<br />
<i>SAD FACT: </i>As you can see, I've actually spent time coming up with a business model to support my fantasy - because even in my dreams there is no way in hell, regardless of how rich we ever were, that Patrick would let me buy a million dollar house just to decorate for "funzies". I don't entirely blame him; I doubt I'd be jazzed to purchase a home that would pay homage to <i>his</i> interests. The Manchester United House of Hot Dogs would have to wait until after my ashes were scattered.<br />
<br />
But anyway, BACK TO ME AND MY IMPORTANT POST. If I had three apartments to decorate, I think I would do Art Deco 1930s, Wartime '40s, and Mid-Century 1950s (<a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2010/05/welcome-to-50s-housewife-experiment.html" target="_blank">that last one's a total surprise, right</a>?). I'd obviously want to track down original pieces from those periods to put into the apartments, but realistically (and possibly safer in a health and fire hazard kind of way) I'd also snag vintage-inspired pieces, especially when it came to appliances.<br />
<br />
So - wanna see what I'm what I've been up to today while I was "working from home"?:<br />
<br />
<b>1930s Art Deco Home Decor Inspiration (I'm down with the pinks in this era):</b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSybJC2aOf5rlAk_LTmDRgzA2FHsZJi6dyChzsRXBJ7L4MLQxd3Uj-jVc2OLVIbo2qdD9CcVXv3irUXo2U1OzyaKc5Sv73HKN5QmCnmfYK4jwf8mS4nz45c2YI0sr6n1jULL1C/s1600/1930s+Art+Deco+Decor+Inspiration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSybJC2aOf5rlAk_LTmDRgzA2FHsZJi6dyChzsRXBJ7L4MLQxd3Uj-jVc2OLVIbo2qdD9CcVXv3irUXo2U1OzyaKc5Sv73HKN5QmCnmfYK4jwf8mS4nz45c2YI0sr6n1jULL1C/s400/1930s+Art+Deco+Decor+Inspiration.jpg" width="372" /></a></div><br />
1. <a href="http://www.1stdibs.com/furniture_item_detail.php?id=543983" target="_blank">1930s K.E.M. Weber Lounge Chair - 1stDibs</a><br />
2. <a href="http://www.1stdibs.com/furniture_item_detail.php?id=600108" target="_blank">Jacques Adnet Mirrored Coffee Table - 1stDibs</a><br />
3. <a href="http://www.1stdibs.com/furniture_item_detail.php?id=567192" target="_blank">Pink French Boudoir Chair - 1stDibs</a> <br />
4. <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/76907466/classic-30s-walnut-chrome-art-deco-bar?ref=sr_gallery_1&sref=&ga_search_submit=&ga_search_query=art+deco+bar&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_type=vintage&ga_facet=vintage%2Ffurniture" target="_blank">Walnut and Chrome Fold-Out Bar - L.A. Vintage Furnishings on Etsy</a><br />
5. <a href="http://newel.com/PreviewImage.aspx?ItemID=14657" target="_blank">Silver-plated Champagne Bucket on Fluted Stand - Newel</a><br />
6. <a href="http://www.artdecocollection.com/carpets_ADC-009.htm" target="_blank">San Francisco Fox Theater 1930s Rug - Art Deco Collection</a><br />
7. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/VOGUE-October-27-1930-Benito-Marion-Moorehouse-Vionnet-Chanel-Waldorf-Astoria-/260962090453?pt=Magazines&hash=item3cc28d7dd5#ht_500wt_1054" target="_blank">October 1930 issue of Vogue Magazine - ParisVogueBazaar on eBay</a> <br />
8. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/Bagley-Grantham-Art-Deco-1930s-pink-glass-clock-vases-garniture-set-/380413103883?pt=UK_Art_Glass&hash=item5892634f0b#ht_6145wt_1037" target="_blank">Bagley Grantham Pink Glass Clock & Vase Garniture Set - Art of Glass on eBay</a><br />
9. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/30s-Art-Deco-Victorian-Ceiling-light-fixture-Chandelier-American-Antique-Lamp-/330675980216?pt=Architectural_Garden&hash=item4cfdd307b8#ht_8988wt_1037" target="_blank">1930s Pink Petal Chandelier - richardshorse on eBay</a><br />
<br />
<b>Wartime 1940s Decor (went with lots of yellowy-creams and deep greens):</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXmRzD6I7AtYydzfzaqnx6Nn7-gct30mG5XoepazUy2l-jVFBVr0lvuvTs5n4fn21tfh-2lTH6SdR5f5uEsnVRUAx5WwgHd3PxgCrPrCgct9fpIxcouwkRGhQCoaIzzyOBAP7/s1600/1940s+wartime+decor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXmRzD6I7AtYydzfzaqnx6Nn7-gct30mG5XoepazUy2l-jVFBVr0lvuvTs5n4fn21tfh-2lTH6SdR5f5uEsnVRUAx5WwgHd3PxgCrPrCgct9fpIxcouwkRGhQCoaIzzyOBAP7/s400/1940s+wartime+decor.jpg" width="380" /></a></div>1. <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/85308570/1940s-87-long-by-44-wide-four-panels-two?ref=sr_gallery_12&sref=&ga_includes%5B0%5D=tags&ga_search_query=1940s+curtains&ga_page=2&ga_search_type=all&ga_facet=" target="_blank">Handmade Curtains, Early 1940s Fabric - Eva Wagenfish Emporium on Etsy</a><br />
2. <a href="http://chanel%20back%20club%20chair/" target="_blank">Edward Wormly Chanel Back Club Chair - 1stDibs</a><br />
3. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/VTG-ART-DECO-1940s-WALNUT-DESK-LIGHT-LAMP-WRINKLE-FINISH-MID-CENTURY-MODERN-RARE-/360395847212?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item53e944362c#ht_3152wt_1037" target="_blank">1940s Walnut Desk Lamp - 3xJacks on eBay</a><br />
4. <a href="http://www.appliancesonline.co.uk/product/FAB10LP-Smeg-Fridge-Cream-20914.aspx">Smeg FAB10LP Fridge Freestanding Cream - Appliances Online</a><br />
5. <a href="http://www.ioffer.com/i/Deco-Airline-Tube-Radio-1940s-LQQK-Neat-11826266" target="_blank">Airline 1940s Tube Radio - iOffers</a><br />
6. <a href="http://www.sears.ca/product/kitchenaid-artisan-stand-mixer-almond-cream-ksm150psac/611-000799536-KSM150PSAC" target="_blank">KitchenAid Mixer in Almond Cream - Sears</a><br />
7. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/Oct-1942-Ladies-Home-Journal-Faith-Baldwin-Patriotic-Cover-/140611450994?pt=Magazines&hash=item20bd187872#ht_1154wt_1037" target="_blank">October 1942 issue of Ladies' Home Journal - Papergoy on eBay</a><br />
8. <a href="http://www.invaluable.com/auction-lot/pair-of-1940-s-wing-back-armchairs:-in-the-origin-1-c-11652774fb" target="_blank">Green Vinyl 1940s Wingback Chair - InValuable</a><br />
<br />
<b>Mid-Century 1950s Decor Inspiration (blues and reds called out to me!):</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8gtNKhD5lEB1dNI1OIJg0aWs4abQkubPhrxu59_dFN-jYYtgySlG_s0nqO_reNoNELfwQOePy2UE51nz_8DrHHO3llQ7hac772HBTVgXlPiZWgRCstETmr06qS-CeXONFvv3/s1600/1950s+midcentury+decor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8gtNKhD5lEB1dNI1OIJg0aWs4abQkubPhrxu59_dFN-jYYtgySlG_s0nqO_reNoNELfwQOePy2UE51nz_8DrHHO3llQ7hac772HBTVgXlPiZWgRCstETmr06qS-CeXONFvv3/s400/1950s+midcentury+decor.jpg" width="382" /></a></div><br />
1. <a href="http://www.appliancesonline.co.uk/product/FAB28QV1-Smeg-Right-Hand-Hinge-Fridge-Green-24318.aspx">Smeg Right Hand Hinge FAB28QV1 Fridge Freestanding - Appliances Online</a> (I'm torn on the colour! I like them all! Which could you choose?)<br />
2. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/Betty-Crockers-Picture-Cook-Book-1950-First-Edition-fifth-printing-Hc-3956-/160732199626?pt=US_Nonfiction_Book&hash=item256c62baca#ht_500wt_1054" target="_blank">Betty Crocker Picture Cook Book - Iowa Book Farm on eBay</a><br />
3. 1955 Hide-A-Bed (vintage ad from my collection) <br />
4. <a href="http://guffonline.blogspot.com/2012/02/vintage-walnut-bedroom-set.html" target="_blank">Walnut Mid-Century Bedroom Dresser - GUFF</a><br />
5. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/Vintage-Amoeba-Boomerang-50s-Retro-Atomic-Pilsner-Turquoise-Glass-Pitcher-/130654707986?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item1e6ba0a112#ht_500wt_1287" target="_blank">Federal Glass Amoeba Pitcher - Fab Five Friends on eBay</a><br />
6. <a href="http://www.icollectantiques.com/appraise/Default.aspx?ItemID=1829025&FromPanel=BrowsePanel&CurrentPage=267&PanelName=ItemDetails#larger" target="_blank">Marco Zanuso Wingback Chair - ICollectAntiques.com</a><br />
7. <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/55444707/vintage-wallpaper-drum-shade-1950s-mid" target="_blank">1950s Blue Burst Wall-Papered Drum Shade - Fondue on Etsy</a><br />
8. <a href="http://www.ebay.ca/itm/LG-VINTAGE-PAINT-NUMBERS-PAINTING-W-NICE-FRAME-/250782427378?pt=Art_Paintings&hash=item3a63cc28f2#ht_713wt_1037" target="_blank">Vintage Paint-by-Numbers Artwork - Nomar on eBay</a><br />
9. <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/93285736/vintage-typewriter-blue-manual-olivetti?ref=sr_gallery_37&sref=&ga_search_submit=&ga_search_query=blue+typewriter&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_type=vintage&ga_facet=vintage" target="_blank">Olivetti Underwood Lettera 22 Portable Typewriter - Jacklom3 on Etsy</a><br />
<br />
And this doesn't fit into any era accurately (although it has a lovely 1950s vibe) but I'd want it in ALL of these apartments: the <a href="http://www.appliancesonline.co.uk/product/WMFABP1-Smeg-Washing-Machine-Cream-24272.aspx" target="_blank">Smeg washing machine</a>. HOW ADORABLE IS THAT? It is killing me with cuteness:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg13ORBhCvjDLQXaaOYzSpf6H5kBaoSGPaQ3POr4x628Ou7l6SmW_O1mQRYTDD6QB51uCIvmS27z7RCL4rfiKSdHR4mwgX9ZuSozRlxYL-FF-d4bH54Yf3S3NwUxRPFtZ3sZfq/s1600/smeg+washing+machine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg13ORBhCvjDLQXaaOYzSpf6H5kBaoSGPaQ3POr4x628Ou7l6SmW_O1mQRYTDD6QB51uCIvmS27z7RCL4rfiKSdHR4mwgX9ZuSozRlxYL-FF-d4bH54Yf3S3NwUxRPFtZ3sZfq/s1600/smeg+washing+machine.jpg" /></a></div><b>Ok - so, if money was no object, what would you put in your vintage-inspired dream home? Which era turns your design crank the most?</b>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-50281407094874839102012-02-24T20:51:00.003-05:002012-02-24T20:57:50.307-05:00And Then I Jizzed. In. My. Pants ....MINE:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Z96xF4g2oG_ZM3UDHFIJNf8qSxmTZFRfHRVWmIOvhEHe4aulgleFwLJtwP9E-DaWn_liR-ONRkyRcemAl-0yB3H3IKzF3opu4W07cg6pf4BEu_v_SfdhzQotvIJJ25ss-E0R/s1600/almond+cream+kitchenaid+mixer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Z96xF4g2oG_ZM3UDHFIJNf8qSxmTZFRfHRVWmIOvhEHe4aulgleFwLJtwP9E-DaWn_liR-ONRkyRcemAl-0yB3H3IKzF3opu4W07cg6pf4BEu_v_SfdhzQotvIJJ25ss-E0R/s400/almond+cream+kitchenaid+mixer.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>Kitchenaid Deluxe Edition mixer in Almond Cream. In my kitchen. For me. Forever.<br />
<br />
Can I get a "<a href="http://irlgeek.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/FUCK-YEAH.jpg" target="_blank">Fuck Yeah!</a>"?<br />
<br />
Also? <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2012/01/pinplement.html" target="_blank">It's a Pinplement</a>. AWWWWWYEAH.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16000628.post-15832463272706116672012-02-22T16:11:00.005-05:002012-02-23T10:47:04.152-05:00The Rebuttal: 1950s Housewives Blast 1950s Business GirlIf you saw yesterday's post, I showed you bits of an article from the March 1950 <i>Chatelaine</i> in which "business girl" <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2012/02/women-judging-shit-out-of-each-other.html" target="_blank">Beverly Gray tells housewives how much they suck</a>. In June of that year, the housewives had their chance to bite back in the article, "Housewives Blast Business Girl".<br />
<br />
According to the magazine, over 500 housewives wrote letters in response to <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2012/02/women-judging-shit-out-of-each-other.html" target="_blank">"Housewives Are A Sorry Lot"</a> and Beverly Gray's phone rang off the hook with calls from irritated readers. This was all pre-Google, so women actually had to put time and effort into tracking down and stalking this lady (<i>"You say I'm silly and leading a wasted life? THIS'LL SHOW YOU!"</i>). I wonder how many psychotic phone calls were received by people listed under "B. Gray" in phone books around Canada:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbN1BgkygVkIK2MAOkymWWDKOdQZHmo83W8tW3owEVPWTJcNyCP89HA2K3D1SvWHHHo7QmFW5clLruvYAibkJHT-f86EA6Rgh5C1-9CG_nl8mBz63RDPIKID714CVN2Zfg7lZ/s1600/beverly+gray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbN1BgkygVkIK2MAOkymWWDKOdQZHmo83W8tW3owEVPWTJcNyCP89HA2K3D1SvWHHHo7QmFW5clLruvYAibkJHT-f86EA6Rgh5C1-9CG_nl8mBz63RDPIKID714CVN2Zfg7lZ/s400/beverly+gray.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I've learned a lot more things about housewives I didn't know before!"<br />
I'm sure they're all super flattering observations, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Seems Bev, a newspaper woman, was kind of like an early version of Canada's favourite sweetheart: the ever attention-seeking, ever judgemental <a href="http://fullcomment.nationalpost.com/author/cblatchford/" target="_blank">Christie Blatchford</a>. I wonder who could out-grump the other. My money's on Blatch.<br />
<br />
The commotion was so great that <i>Chatelaine</i> decided to post a few pages of snippets from many of these letters rather than provide one uniformed response:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0_sUNvsj50hW9GN-ox3zl4jJ2HUUiXFD4HZUpx92iA6I92uVUUC3LwVaPEX0qNyILrDLV4WhmXgJfiSlaew1tIfiqziPPEDmFTIirFeshr-reEfZTOkAii5dVe-VweEiIReQ/s1600/housewives+blast+business+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0_sUNvsj50hW9GN-ox3zl4jJ2HUUiXFD4HZUpx92iA6I92uVUUC3LwVaPEX0qNyILrDLV4WhmXgJfiSlaew1tIfiqziPPEDmFTIirFeshr-reEfZTOkAii5dVe-VweEiIReQ/s400/housewives+blast+business+girl.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sure,</i> <i>sure</i>. If comment sections on the Internet have taught us anything, <br />
it's that people respond to criticism with "tolerance and good humor."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The quotes from <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2010/05/welcome-to-50s-housewife-experiment.html" target="_blank">1950s housewives</a> can basically be placed into five different categories ...<br />
<br />
<b>I'll Have You Know That I Am Very Busy And Important. CRAZY IMPORTANT</b>:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs8pr9tkJa925OABFfvdaep2b7Zq33V2UfqGgqTA3AE9UQttb0STniU2HF98PFbNQoU8ynBxwb0hs_Szewvvenzf-FdOgE2zU69kLn9bwjlGG73Jknb35ih6C3mIg08EXoU36o/s1600/nation+builder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="86" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs8pr9tkJa925OABFfvdaep2b7Zq33V2UfqGgqTA3AE9UQttb0STniU2HF98PFbNQoU8ynBxwb0hs_Szewvvenzf-FdOgE2zU69kLn9bwjlGG73Jknb35ih6C3mIg08EXoU36o/s400/nation+builder.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The census man rolled his eyes. "Sure thing, lady," he said as he checked the box marked "housewife."</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ZIzliYn077lxIIwwLaR4ZGrSiwrrAxZwFj_NlIGVqecevtTCFz_Ao2uEygNwuLB9u9vXyGrnWI3UwzAhfH0mQ5N8rCmreMKhPXVYGKG-PyawbkoVN3bNJB0e96faXnaIKnne/s1600/who+bakes+pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ZIzliYn077lxIIwwLaR4ZGrSiwrrAxZwFj_NlIGVqecevtTCFz_Ao2uEygNwuLB9u9vXyGrnWI3UwzAhfH0mQ5N8rCmreMKhPXVYGKG-PyawbkoVN3bNJB0e96faXnaIKnne/s320/who+bakes+pie.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, you heard me. I said it. PIE. They don't bake themselves, you know.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHPgAODoDQk9QqtJSBWOunmzAYD_GwOUH3tm2x0AcomxaHM7aWwSxNKSvKJMmCGlz0NUPA7RAvcfUfhcN4zOYSu6BVaSPFUrCqyQwK5wlyL4ZFwVS3KLYESBF8S-w4I5S94Tx/s1600/housewife+skills.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHPgAODoDQk9QqtJSBWOunmzAYD_GwOUH3tm2x0AcomxaHM7aWwSxNKSvKJMmCGlz0NUPA7RAvcfUfhcN4zOYSu6BVaSPFUrCqyQwK5wlyL4ZFwVS3KLYESBF8S-w4I5S94Tx/s400/housewife+skills.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2010/06/lessons-from-50s-housewife-experiment.html" target="_blank">Preach, sister, preach!</a> (Well, except for that first part.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<b>Business Girls Suck More Than We Do:</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhyphenhyphenX9-wiAX0RLif6W_jVO3NVSHPPjwAzkGzioIGq4RXmhDRmivpui2S7UVCNiTldenGMuN1DUNObTAYLxkGe5LgdR_bsUMpgottK83h3sgDkV-yq5-dydUfAt3FP1JHl1yfLA/s1600/career+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhyphenhyphenX9-wiAX0RLif6W_jVO3NVSHPPjwAzkGzioIGq4RXmhDRmivpui2S7UVCNiTldenGMuN1DUNObTAYLxkGe5LgdR_bsUMpgottK83h3sgDkV-yq5-dydUfAt3FP1JHl1yfLA/s320/career+girls.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think it's a rule that <i>no one</i> looks good on public transit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncqrIOY-wFSCz-sjm9_sTr2n4MztwlF5aaqxRNh4kEkbeur80BZigHt4wi_3H9bWdUo8FULGTCo3Pxp3PzctXvveD4lcO6BljbQbpC_gNJQYldxbKQJED5XL-Ph1Tmt1p-QdX/s1600/business+girl+phone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncqrIOY-wFSCz-sjm9_sTr2n4MztwlF5aaqxRNh4kEkbeur80BZigHt4wi_3H9bWdUo8FULGTCo3Pxp3PzctXvveD4lcO6BljbQbpC_gNJQYldxbKQJED5XL-Ph1Tmt1p-QdX/s320/business+girl+phone.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just wait until the Internet shows up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfAC4lA6npFa5wSuXzAArUE2icew0b-9palC7CafhACeptSpGbimmmim4gBzVsXE6mu35gWKWQCg91sT3Kw8VCGU1okDEvQOqtnAgciEpTNcSbbOOdzku8-JLpdbXoy1k5TzT/s1600/sales+clerks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicfAC4lA6npFa5wSuXzAArUE2icew0b-9palC7CafhACeptSpGbimmmim4gBzVsXE6mu35gWKWQCg91sT3Kw8VCGU1okDEvQOqtnAgciEpTNcSbbOOdzku8-JLpdbXoy1k5TzT/s320/sales+clerks.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... a shoplifter's dream.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<b>... They're Also Dumb Sluts:</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5j8PweKxKDxpy1LPkky6Bdo2pdA9AytKgssXrtkaLpmHO2nPdUkP3FIJUcvpprj5psSON6PUv38BRNrRYMYvq2aZlAZRhbqDmGRx-gix4Gq1r3-lxP_JqH2_1PzR19NyqP64/s1600/fish+in+the+sea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5j8PweKxKDxpy1LPkky6Bdo2pdA9AytKgssXrtkaLpmHO2nPdUkP3FIJUcvpprj5psSON6PUv38BRNrRYMYvq2aZlAZRhbqDmGRx-gix4Gq1r3-lxP_JqH2_1PzR19NyqP64/s320/fish+in+the+sea.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BOOM. Suck it, skanks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<b>I Feel Sorry For You Because You Can't Get A Man, Haven't Had Babies, And <a href="http://www.jenbutneverjenn.com/2011/11/i-get-that-i-dont-get-it-so-get-off-it.html" target="_blank">Clearly Don't Know What True Happiness And Fulfillment Is</a>:</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijokbY9HXTgzt964mp8yQGiL_NRfqcfDpjRQVGk4HgmVhJEO3KkEhbcqJlHTlpVGSkWBINEOFFfgj1yL3iML83ytNcKJo9ayU8cjFL81EhbTj9Sy70QaN0fz-iXXC425pPrK14/s1600/narrow+ditch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijokbY9HXTgzt964mp8yQGiL_NRfqcfDpjRQVGk4HgmVhJEO3KkEhbcqJlHTlpVGSkWBINEOFFfgj1yL3iML83ytNcKJo9ayU8cjFL81EhbTj9Sy70QaN0fz-iXXC425pPrK14/s320/narrow+ditch.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Same old disposable income, same old independence ...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUdF73v_r3aNHzNm6s27aVi-JG_revPrXSbeCAKtX6JfsBCkKFDHFGMpdfHrl6I_CN7k40Js7UT3LLaqA5p3OX_2fGiHY0zO0jla-dHE067_APxJqD6NgbWSx4OwmCL0s0WoN-/s1600/threads+fabric+of+life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUdF73v_r3aNHzNm6s27aVi-JG_revPrXSbeCAKtX6JfsBCkKFDHFGMpdfHrl6I_CN7k40Js7UT3LLaqA5p3OX_2fGiHY0zO0jla-dHE067_APxJqD6NgbWSx4OwmCL0s0WoN-/s320/threads+fabric+of+life.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... well, that and Valium.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jyITcSOIcqZTjjcxG7wBL3jTG2Z3OlsCwWkbFcOZ4KC9WYKdqaZKMghPWgbYxFWTc0wI6S5tOxIEAQduGuoCURltXfIPvOspdtCLMU3eEwGNjeayROCPas_O5Fpu-jn1DTqf/s1600/happy+housewife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jyITcSOIcqZTjjcxG7wBL3jTG2Z3OlsCwWkbFcOZ4KC9WYKdqaZKMghPWgbYxFWTc0wI6S5tOxIEAQduGuoCURltXfIPvOspdtCLMU3eEwGNjeayROCPas_O5Fpu-jn1DTqf/s320/happy+housewife.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ARE YOU, BEVERLY? ARE YOU?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><b>Beverly Gray Is A Fucking Bitch With No Friends (<strike>And Is Probably A Big Ol' Lesbian</strike>):</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pXqYT4W4i75ijsQY-Bphwabaytdi59xHwjQgB7dNNqdVqiRv_gkxnLOgFRlpSMIjc4aR_Pz2sKyAHD5RG-tqLnUlSsKX2aaxJd46TTYLZUaJx3ePA0DZ6mFQaCcvnncJpTQH/s1600/no+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pXqYT4W4i75ijsQY-Bphwabaytdi59xHwjQgB7dNNqdVqiRv_gkxnLOgFRlpSMIjc4aR_Pz2sKyAHD5RG-tqLnUlSsKX2aaxJd46TTYLZUaJx3ePA0DZ6mFQaCcvnncJpTQH/s320/no+friends.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haters gonna hate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ah, good stuff, ladies. Good stuff. I have a feeling you'd fit in just fine with women today.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16827711362105321208noreply@blogger.com17