This Post Is Pretty Much Just Videos

... because words don't quite describe how great things are right this second.

This is me right now:



Totally happy, with exactly zero fucks to give.

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:

• I just got paid by two clients whom I had been waiting on forever.
• I'm gainfully employed and officially start full-time on Monday.
• The house is securely in my name only, and I'm on a mission to destroy its mortgage.
• I got a judge-approved divorce order. D-Day becomes official in a couple weeks.

And so I say:

And:

And:

And:

(As you can see, my happy place embarrassingly resides in the pop culture wasteland of 1990 - 1992.)

Have an awesome weekend - I know I will!

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An Update For Those Who Still Accidentally Come To This Site

Heyo!

So, yesterday, my dog ran away. WHY DO ALL THE BOYS LEAVE ME? 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. 

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 him - 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 old people tripping Huck in a moment of joy.  

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: 

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.

Anyway, since you last saw him (unless you follow my All Huck All The Time Instagram Feed!), 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. 

Sigh. Mother Nature knew what she was doing when she made puppies - being way too cute is their best defence against being murdered.

Whereas Huck has been packing on the pounds (but still looks pretty skinny ... bitch), I've been slowly losing them. I've been downgraded from Marineland Attraction Fat to Season Eight Chandler Fat. 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 tent pants I used to wear. That same day, I think I'll also wash my hair in a waterfall and put gum in my mouth by bending it on my tongue:

So, yeah, there's that.

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 updated my portfolio site at Jennifereve.com (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!

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 .... meh.  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. 

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.

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!:

See ya!

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The Year That Was

MAN HANDS is BACK!

Hello.

So, it's been a while, right?

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.

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.

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 forklift-foot-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.

With the exception of some very recent paper signing and key-handing-overs, I haven't seen Patrick since he moved out in May. Well, that's not quite true. I was out one day and spotted him with his girlfriend downtown. (It is taking a fair bit of willpower not to add adjectives and a different use of nouns to that sentence. *HighRoadHighRoadHighRoadHighRoad...*)

This GIF perfectly demonstrates how that encounter went:



Yep. I hid. It was either that or ... I don't even know. A million savage / glorious / humiliating / underwhelming / regretful things come to mind.

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.

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.

Oh, and just as tragic, I found my first white hair. Not grey. White. Like a fucking piece of dental floss sprouting out of my scalp.

So, to recap, I'm:

• divorcing
• unemployed
• broke
• about to turn into the Crypt Keeper

Ain't that just a bit of terrific.

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.

So, some of the good stuff that happened included:

• I got to see my friends and family at their very, stellar best. I am so tear-jerkingly lucky to have some really solid, wonderful, beautiful people in my corner and in my life. They're basically the best humans on earth. Fact.
• I had a job that I really loved (well, most of the time) that gave me the chance to work on cool projects while paying me well enough that I was able to save a bunch of money to ...
• ... keep my lovely home 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.
• I met some amazing people when I was with the agency, including someone who is now a really good friend. He's happily married (to a woman I'm pleased to also now call my friend) and Brazilian which makes him almost exactly like a gay BFF. I also now know more random facts about Brasil than any Canadian who ever existed and have consumed more Caipirinhas in 2012 than in all my previous years combined. My liver is not amused.
• I listened to a fuck-tonne of music, discovered new bands and have basically become one with Tina Turner. I made a playlist 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).
• I enjoyed some nice walks home and stops in the park during a beautiful summer and even got myself a bicycle. Now if only I had the courage to ride it on streets containing cars.
• Romney not getting bloody elected. Yes, even us little Canadians care about that.
• I got my first thing ever from Tiffany's (from my actual gay BFF). Appropriately, it's a vessel for alcohol.
• I experienced Ontario cottage life not once but twice this summer. I think I'll have to make it an annual thing.
• I ate all kinds of stuff and in true hipster fashion took pictures of most of it. How cool of me.

So ... I really do have plenty of things to be happy about.

Which brings us to the next question: What's next?

I mostly don't know. But I'm thinking:

• 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.
• I might have an opportunity to take a totally different spin in the 50s Housewife Experiment 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 Wives in Beehives. 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.).
• 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.
• A return to blog writing. I've missed it. I've missed you, whoever you all are.

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.

And you? How are you? Let me know.

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An Excerpt From My Never-To-Be-Published Children's Book

"Good morning, Jen!" said The Old Friendly House.

"Good morning, House!" said Jen as she dressed to go to work.

"It sure was nice when your parents were here visiting," said The Old Friendly House.

"Yes, it sure was," said Jen.

"They replaced the filter in my air conditioning unit with a clean one!" said The Old Friendly House.

"They caulked up my windows and sealed my leaks!" said The Old Friendly House.

"They even cleaned up my yard!" said The Old Friendly House.

"Yes, wasn't that wonderful of them?" replied Jen.

"It sure was," said The Old Friendly House. "It was like an actual adult lived here."

"Heh," said Jen.

"But now they've left, haven't they?" asked The Old Friendly House.

"Yes," said Jen. "It's just you and me now."

"OH GOOD," said The Old and Suddenly Not-So-Friendly House.

And with that, The Old Friendly Asshole House let in a hoard of ants into the kitchen.

"Try to ignore these!" cackled The Old Asshole House.

"Ah, crap," said Jen.

But The Old Asshole House wasn't done yet.

"Come upstairs, Jen!" shrieked The Old Asshole House. "Come see what I'm doing now!"

So Jen walked up the stairs.

And opened the bathroom door.

And discovered her toilet was flooding all over the floor.

"BUAHAHAHAHAHAA!" hollered The Old Asshole House. "WELCOME TO HOME OWNERSHIP, MOTHERFUCKER!"

And Jen winced.

And the house laughed and laughed.

"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!"

So Jen stood there.

And stood there.

And then wandered off non-dealingly to blog about it.

"Oh for fuck's sake," sighed The Old Asshole House.

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Thank You

You guys are beyond lovely. You're more awesome than all the cupcakes 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).

Thank you.

My gift to you is to not predictably include a Dido or Alanis Morissette song in this post, rather to include one that is just simply fantastic that I hope you enjoy:
Have an amazing weekend, everyone!

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What The Hell, Dude?

Remington Rand ad
from the January 1953 Charm

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 amazing space on the Internet.

There are a few well-known bloggers who have taken steps away from their public spaces because of things like divorce, death and depression.

My absence is because I lost my goddamn mind:

I got a full-time job.

What the HELL, dude?

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 Toronto ad agency 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.

What the HELL, dude?

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).

What the HELL, dude?

Eh, that's getting tired. Enough of that. So, yeah. Not only have I been working full-time, I've been working, like, double 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.

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.

And y'all know I don't "do" normal.

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 50s Housewife Experiment:

The 50s Career Girl Experiment!

Eee!

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".

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 to label what I'm doing as "Mad Men'ing" ... but, eh, if the shoe fits ...

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 The Executive Secretary: Techniques for Success in a Secretarial Career by Marilyn Burke (1959):

What the HELL, dude?

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Somedays, I Feel A Real Kinship With Homer Simpson

Today I was working on the computer when I happened to look down and notice something on my thumb.

I freaked.

There on my thumbnail was a thick, bumpy, white-ish, yellow-ish, gnarled-looking growth. It was disgusting and surely fungal or viral and undoubtedly aggressive as I didn't think it had been there the day before.

I was afraid to touch it and somehow spread what was happening, so gingerly covered the gross appendage with a Kleenex and went to everyone's favourite alarmist website, Web MD:

Ugh. Fungi. Viruses. Warts. Cysts. The barfy possibilities were endless.

I unwrapped my thumb to get a closer look. It had all the symptoms of all of the things Web MD had listed. Oh, how humiliating. I kept thinking about the meeting I have to go to tomorrow and whether I could get away with wrapping the thumbnail in a band-aid and tell some elaborate story about how I nearly cut my thumb off cooking dinner. There was no way I was going to parade its sickly hideousness out in public.

I wondered if the nail bed underneath it had already died or if there was a chance of saving it. Carefully, I took a pair of tweezers and ever-so-cautiously picked at the gnarled bark covering my nail. It lifted easily and exposed a perfectly healthy, normal patch of thumbnail. And then the part that I lifted flaked off.

I yelped. And then I bravely inspected it closer.

And that's when I realized it.

It was melted cheese.

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How Many Tacos Will This Buy Me In Heaven?

I received this in the mail today from someone who reads my blog:

Um, thanks?

I will say, however, that it sure beats the email I received a month ago from someone who attached a copy of her TV cable bill and asked if I wouldn't mind paying it "as a way of saying thank you for being a blog reader". Yes, that's right, I should be paying you to read this blog (that is, when you're not watching TV, of course!). What's more, the "fan" suggested that I surely must have "come into wealth" from all the traffic on this website, much of which she feels she contributed to by "posting the 50s experiment on Facebook".

Guys, the only profit that I've directly reaped from his blog is pictured above:  a Seven Dollar Jesus Bill - and I'm pretty sure I can't even redeem that until I've a) accepted Him as my Lord and Saviour; and b) died.

You know, if this is what I receive, it really makes you wonder about the kind of mail Oprah gets. Just take a minute and picture it.


Wow.

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Wishing You A Happy New Year From Jabba's Barge

I'm still gross and sick, so I'm spending the bulk of my time laying down while sniffling, hacking, consuming liquids, and having impromptu, drool-heavy naps. This activity, combined with my slug-like physique, has led me to dub the platform bed that I'm conducting this important business from as "Jabba's Barge". Maybe it's the Buckley's, but this all seems like a pretty accurate reflection of what's happening in my room right now (except instead of demanding the death of Han Solo, I'm simply satisfied with orange juice and Jane Austen films. That, and Patrick no longer fits into the metal bikini):



Sadly, this is how I'm going to be spending New Year's Eve this year: out with a pathetic gurgle.

Hopefully your New Year's Eve is more fun than that and that 2012 is your best year ever!

Thanks for reading the blog and I hope to see you next year! U kalle rah doe kankee kung!

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I'm Home, I Have a Horrible Cold ...

... and the only reasonable way to deal with it is to lie in bed, drink orange juice and watch this:



Ah, Mr. Darcy. Is there anything that isn't made better by you?

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Bangs And Thick Hair Are Great ...

... but sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I look *just like* Mandy Patinkin from The Princess Bride.

At least it starts each day with a laugh. For Patrick.

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Updates From A Delinquent Blogger

Heyo. It's been a little while, eh? The Internet just isn't the same without my Doogie Howser-esque need to relay the minute and unimportant details that is my life, so here's what you missed over the past week:

A) I got banged!

After a few weeks of folding my hair and staring at myself in the mirror, I decided to make THAT BIG GIRLIE DECISION and get bangs - but this time I kept the rest of my hair long rather than going for a bob. The darlingness of Zooey Deschanel in New Girl may or may not have contributed to that decision.


B) I got older!

As is my birthday custom, here's a pie chart where I've turned peoples' nice actions of wishing me a happy birthday into cold, heartless data:

I wonder how much Hallmark hates Mark Zuckerberg.

I was gifted with all kinds of wonderful things like a dinner out at Allen's, a new Janome sewing machine (EEEE!!!!!!) from Patrick, some Basque linens from my France-ified sister, some nice serving trays from my mother-in-law, lovely sewing supplies, Season Two of Community on DVD and a Chatelaine subscription from my parents. Am I spoiled - and super domestic - or what?

C) I got lighter!

I've lost of total of 12 lbs. since embarking on my Eat Less Crap Diet. Mind you, that's before I did a faceplant into the Dairy Queen ice cream cake we got for my birthday ... but I'm sure that damage was minimal-ish and not the start of a DQ Blizzard Addiction. Heh.

D) I got grossed out!

Our toilet leaked through the floor, causing a major stain on our kitchen ceiling. We were lucky it hadn't dripped all the way through. We spent the morning of my birthday with a plumber who determined this was a problem that had been forming for years, only to make itself known that day. Which was terrific timing as ...

E) I got parented!

My parents, The Father of the Monkey and Sweet Marie, flew in to visit us for five days to check out our new home and help ring my birthday in. There is nothing that says "I'm An Adult Who Makes Great Real Estate Choices" like having your parents walk into your house that has a toilet on the verge of leaking "shit water" (I believe that's the technical term) into the kitchen. Sigh. My parents also gently (but thankfully) pointed out a few other issues with the place that Patrick and I were oblivious to because we're idiots who clearly have no business owning a home. We might as well replace our current doorbell with one that plays Scooby Dum sound clips.

But besides the home maintenance issues it was a very nice visit in which they forced us out for walks (one that was 15 km! I mean, WTF!?!) and I retaliated by forcing them to try green smoothies and raw vegan food, to which my father brought up this Far Side cartoon:

Clearly, in my family, we show our love by imposing obnoxious, healthy habits on each other (which we later completely counteract with lots of wine).

In all, it was a lovely time and a good week, even with the evil birthday plumbing surprise.

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Congratulations On Your Random, Unfocused Writings

Jessica from the blog Jessica, Why Are You So Bossy? recently contacted me to let me know that I had won "The Versatile Blogger Award". It's not so much an award as it is a modern-day chain letter among bloggers, but I takes what I gets, especially when it affords me the opportunity to do something I so seldom do: talk about myself. So, thanks, Jessica!

The OFFICIAL rules of the award are:
-Thank the award-giver and link back to them in your post.
-Tell your readers 7 things about yourself.
-Give this award to up to 15 recently discovered bloggers.
-Contact those bloggers and tell them the exciting news!

Here's seven achingly fascinating facts about yours truly:

1. I believe that everyone should have to - yes, be forced to - work in the service industry for six months at some point in their lives. It would be like military service for the capitalist soul. The result? Our society would become 30% less dickish.*
2. While I can hear things pretty well, I can almost never tell what direction the sound is coming from.
3. I'm always surprised that when we talk about things that happened ten years ago, we're no longer referring to the early '90s.
4. I want to get a bicycle but I'm oddly rather scared to ride one.
5. I sometimes take intentionally bad photos of myself and send them to friends to cheer them up. I feel sorry for people who avoid doing things like this because they think they might one day have a career in politics:
   
   
6. I get really nervous around balloons. I'm certain they're going to pop at any second. I particularly want to barf when a helium balloon is touching a popcorn ceiling.
7. Roughly 90% of the things I say on Twitter are about things I see on TV. That should embarrass me but it really, really doesn't.

* Fact.

And I now ceremoniously bestow the Versatile Blogger Award on:

• Old Sweet Song
• Tea and Crumpets
• The Science of Domesticity

Check 'em out!

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I Won't Be Posting A Picture of This

Image Source.

Ever watch those nature shows and there are flies - or even bats - on large animals, biting away at them, and you're like - WHY CAN'T THEY FEEL THAT? WHY AREN'T THEY FREAKING OUT? I BET THEY WISH THEY HAD ARMS!

I just discovered that I am such a beast. Apparently, some random insect chowed down on the buffet called Jen while I was tending to our dying rose bush (see? I told you I would kill it) the other day.

I didn't realize it until I was undressing that night and felt something raw, stingy and bumpy beneath one of my lady bags.

Yeah, that's right, some nasty little insect got in my bra and bit my tit about 20 times.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

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Guess Where I'm Going This Morning?

Think I have time to swing by a convenience store in the gay village to pick up a Playgirl? Because that's actually the craziest bit about Liz Lemon's Getting Out of Jury Duty character - she's a lady with a Playgirl.

It's not that I really want to get out of jury duty - it's something I've always thought could be a neat experience. But could the timing be any more crap? I'm self-employed and swamped with work, in the midst of selling my home and just recovering from a rather nasty bout of pneumonia AND bronchitis (yep).

But most importantly, Robert Pattinson is in my neighbourhood right now shooting a film and I should really be out there stalking him.

Ugh.

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Blogger Will Tear Us Apart

Just a quick note: Blogger - which is the thing I use to write such amazing dribble - was majorly screwed for the last few days. Because of that, comments to the site from last week along with a surely destined-for-greatness post of mine got erased. This is the saddest thing ever because your comments are my crack. They may all just be from one person - possibly my father - who simply keeps posting with different usernames, but I'm still totally cool with that. That's how pathetic and needy my Internet-based ego is.

Anyway, I don't want anyone out there thinking that I'm the one erasing comments. You'd have to call me way fatter names before I did that.

Here's something that will make us all feel better - Dave Gahan of Depeche Mode doing a cover of Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" (Side-note: The person who says "No way!" near the beginning sounds exactly like how I imagine all Californian men sound like. And low and behold, this concert was in Los Angeles, thus confirming that all of the presumptions I have about large groups of people are always right):


Special thanks to Matt for posting that clip on his Facebook! I've since watched it a billion times.

And one other good thing to mention! xoJane is now live! It's the online magazine / community by Jane Pratt, the Lady Fantastico behind my favourite teen thing ever - Sassy Magazine! That mag was like John Hughes meets Riot Grrrrl. It was probably one of the first non-condescending things I read that was targeted to a girl my age, even though I'm pretty sure I totally deserved a full serving of condescension. I was quite the ignorant bitch, after all.

I therefore have big hopes for xoJane and so should you! Now let's all waste the afternoon on it together!

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Time For An Update!

Wow - so much can change in a week, huh?

Since the last time I blogged:

1. Osama Bin Laden was still walking around like the sack of shit he was
2. There was hope in the air about the kind of government the voters of Canada would elect
3. I still hadn't seen some of my University friends in nearly a decade
4. There was more hair on my face
5. My sister was still a single lady

Naturally, I'll focus today's post on the most important thing on that list: my sister's wedding horrible eyebrow wax job.

So, my mom graciously takes my sister, fellow bridesmaid Susan, and me to go get mani pedis at a nail bar a few days before my sister's wedding. I had mentioned before to my mom that I might go get my brows tidied while I was there as they could use a bit of shaping. For all my joking about my facial hair on this blog, I really do take relatively good care of it. We weren't talking about a "Bert" situation on my face - I just needed a little sumpin' sumpin', ya dig?

Anyway, we're getting our manis and pedis done and I'm noticing a couple things about the place and service that were a little different from what I was used to. Like, when dealing with the dry parts of my feet - which I've learned are called "móng guốc" in Vietnamese - I've been told to never use a metal object (like a razor or those cheese grater-like Ped Eggs) on them. But, alas, such an item was used to slough off the protective rock-like barrier from my heels. No longer can I walk on broken glasses, fiery coals and the pungent underwear of Rock of Love contestants past without cuts, burns or disease. An uneven nail here and a nip from my cuticle there and I wan't feeling super confident in the place. Certainly not confident enough to let them put melted wax near my eyes.

As we were waiting for our polish to dry, my mom brought up the eyebrow wax. Unfortunately, she did this right as an aesthetician was hovering nearby.

"No, I don't really need to get it done. I'll just pluck when I get in," I said.

"Oh, Jennifer, just get it done here. It will take two minutes," she said.

"Umm ... how are we on time? Should we be heading back to go to the wedding rehearsal?" I said, searching for an excuse that wouldn't offend the staff.

"We have plenty of time. Just get your eyebrows done here and be done with it," my mom said, oblivious to my excuse-making.

"Yes, you want eyebrows done?" the aesthetician chimed in. "Come with me," she said happily.

Ugh. Why, why, why was I raised to be so two-faced polite?

"Ok," I said stupidly and followed her to the hair ripping room. And wouldn't you know it, it was my nail tech who was doing the waxing? Great.

I will long story short this by saying that when I came out, my own mother, the person who is supposed to support and nurture and foster that elusive thing called self-esteem looked at me and SNORTED. Loudly. With spit flying about. And even after she contained herself and the conversation mercifully carried on to another topic, she would glance at me and start howling again.

I was even asked if I was wearing dark eye shadow. Nope - that was my normal skin colour. That glowing hot whiteness just above it was the skin on my brow that had literally never seen sunlight until that day. It was exposed for the very first time, an effect that made me look striped.

Here's a pic of all of us in the party - I am the short toad on the end. Would you believe I was wearing 3" heels? I was. That's how unfair life can be. Would you also believe that I used a brow pencil that day? So even that sliver of eyebrow you see in the photo below is about double of what I was actually left with for the wedding:

Oh, right, the wedding. I should probably talk about that, right? Well, there is my beautiful sister, with her handsome new husband, who threw one hell of a party, who probably didn't get asked that night if she was expecting (unlike a certain sister of hers - despite said sister enthusiastically drinking like a non-pregnant person would). She's in Hawaii now on a honeymoon and will then depart for a life in France where she hopes to take the spring off before taking up a vocation - probably pastry making. Please join me in saying it: What a bitch. Congratulations!

I'll post more about the festivities a bit later. It deserves a post of its own!

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Further Proof That Everyone Screws The Pooch

I was doing my daily navel-gaze (i.e.: looking at my blog traffic) and noticed this:


It turns out at that people who work in high profile, high stress government departments surf silly websites on the job. They're just like us!

Actually, of the ISPs I can identify, several come from US government offices, be it a city government, state or - most often - federal level. Department of Transportation, Naval Intelligence, the Senate ... you name it, they've shown up here at some point. Pretty much all of those people come for the 50s Housewife Experiment. Read into that as you will.

Um, it's because it's the only part of your blog worth reading. Also, you shamelessly promote the hell out of it.

Oh, right.

Of course, I think this kind of traffic is hilarious and awesome - so, please, mystery reader from the Department of Homeland Security, don't put me on the no-fly list for pointing you out. As an extra suck-up, in honour of you and other government readers, I'm posting this clip, from the LIFE's December 24, 1956 magazine (which you can gleefully read in its entirety here) of Mrs. Sally Luther, an elected member of the Minnesota House of Representatives:

Funny how we still ask women how they manage to work in government and juggle a home and family, but never question how men in government do it.

(Let it be known that I am no fan of Sarah Palin, but, seriously? Bah.)

Anyhoo - regardless of where you work or don't work - enjoy your break! Thanks for coming here!

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Bye Bye 2010 ... Hello 2011!

Image Source: Queen Poison Slayer

It's New Year's Eve Eve (New Year's Adam?) and since we're travelling tomorrow, I wanted to write a quick post to wish you all well and reflect a little on this year.

Like all years, 2010 had its ups and downs but undoubtedly the biggest thing that impacted us was the sudden passing of my father-in-law, Paul. I won't dwell on it here, but losing Paul has been pretty tough on the Byck family and I hope that 2011 offers some healing and plenty of things to celebrate and feel grateful for. While we can't replace the holes left by people who pass on, we can continue to let ourselves grow and honour the memories of our loved ones by living the best lives we can. So, here's hoping we do just that.

On the pluses for 2010, Patrick is enjoying his new job, my freelancing is going well and the 50s Housewife Experiment has brought some potential opportunities my way, plus it's connected me to some cool peeps on the blogosphere and beyond. My sister's engagement and happiness has been a pretty nice highlight as has my dad's ability to keep cancer at bay this year. All good stuff that I'm super thankful for.

As for 2011? It's a clean slate for us all. I'll hopefully be working on some 50s housewife stuff behind the scenes but she might resurface on the blog again - you never know! I'm toying with the idea of doing a 1940s Housewife Experiment (I have oodles of resources, specifically concerning wartime activities) or even a 1960s Experiment focusing on a special collection of materials I have (hint: It's from a glamorous woman's club!). Any preferences, bloggy readers?

Our New Year's Eve celebration won't be era-focused - instead we're hopping on a plane and going to Las Vegas! Eeee! (Don't get any ideas, would-be-robbers; we have someone staying at our place while we're gone!) As you can imagine, it will be all class - because nothing is classier than me, on New Years, in Las Vegas. Heh. The toxicity in my body will likely be higher than the time we ate the Asparagus Meat Mold, so I have a feeling that for the first few weeks of January, you'll be hearing about vegan this and juice that and other hippie nonsense that I'll believe will cleanse my insides.

Should you be disappointed with the lack of 50s New Year's stuff on the blog, I dug up this video that I found online. It's of a wee New Year's Eve Party from the 1950s, complete with Vienna Sausages *shudder*:


Thanks for coming by the blog this year! I hope your New Year's Eve is hap-hap-happy and safe, and that 2011 is your best year yet!

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Those Who Spell it "Jenn" ...

I received an e-mail recently from MySpace about my account and my first thought was, "I have a MySpace account?"

I doubt I'm alone there. How many of us jumped on that bandwagon, discovered it was just for teens, musicians and people who write their names like they were Anime characters (e.g. ◊×××♥Äñgêlïñå♥×××◊ ) and promptly forgot the site's existence shortly thereafter?

I went hunting and indeed found an account that I had created and abandoned at least four+ years ago. Even though the picture of me (as shown above) was probably from 2006, I swear I have aged twenty years since it was taken. Oh gah. I need to get my hands on whatever Paul Rudd has been eating / bathing in / praying to that keeps him from looking any older than he did when he filmed Clueless 15 years ago (it's been 15 years!? Oh gah again).

But some things do not change. The only entry on my MySpace page was in the About Me section (imagine that), and it states:

Those who spell it "Jenn":

• Murder puppies
• Send e-mails all in caps or Comic Sans
  
• Have diaper breath
• Kiss with their eyes open
• Refuse to give up their bus seat to the elderly
• Claim your funny stories as their own
• Choose not to replace the toilet paper roll
• Take karate lessons
• Eat babies
• Think Star Wars sucks
• Buy thong underwear for their 8-year old nieces
• Go to Richmond Street clubs
• Don't yet know how to use an apostrophe
• Enjoy morning radio "personalities"
• Didn't care when Arrested Development was cancelled
• Recently said the phrase, "Think outside the box."
• Always ask what you got on a test, but never tell you their own score
• Televise golf
• "Need" at least seven bridesmaids at their weddings
• Reek of Exclamation! perfume
• Never had a crush on someone that was purely based on their intellect

Yep, that's still about right. My dislike for seeing my name spelled "Jenn" instead of "Jen" and my dislike for so many things on that list are still alive and well. Way to be a consistently cranky, self-obsessed bitch.

Account deleted. We hardly knew ye, MySpace.

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