Once More with Feeling.

Mean Spams

It has been without any formal consideration that I have taken a sabbatical of sorts from exercise...since June.  It just sort of happened that way.  I didn't rejoin the soccer league I was in because I do not want to show up at my wedding with a busted wrist, a black eye, a bruised nose, a fat lip, a limp, a scabby knee, all of which have been injuries I've endured over the past 12 months.  But the regular workouts ("regular" being something a subjective term here) have been virtually non-existent. I mean, if pressed I would say to you, "well, I walk kinda fast and I take the stairs when I can" would be all I could offer you at this point.

Having said that, somehow I have been able to find time to sit on my ass and read the e-mails in my Hotmail account.  I don't know if spam is getting more advanced these days in trying to get you to open them or what, but I have a spam notes from Emily and Kate (coincidentally both my younger sisters' names) that the subject line reads:

IS YOUR THYROID MAKING YOU FAT?

I mean, I hope that this is spam, otherwise, I have some skinny asses to kick.

UPDATED TO ADD: Today's spam from "Emily" was entitled,

I'LL NEVER FORGET THE DAY MY CHILD CAME HOME WITH LICE.

Thank you, Karma.

How Home Ownership Has Changed Me

I say things like, "Oh good, it rained last night.  The lawn really needed it."

(the lawn no longer looks like this but rather, a small plot of short hay.)

I have 47 bucks in my checking account. MAX.

I get pissed when someone doesn't take out the recycling bin on trash day because that means *I* have to lug it out to the corner.  Did I mention the recent rain? And how it is ALSO collected in the recycling bin....that we keep outside. 

If you want to get all sorts of bent...

I swear, Contrary is trying to put me over the edge linking this stuff.

You can buy child brides on the Internet. Literally, 14 -15 years old.

Contrary does a better job linking the "testimonials" (Oh, Dear Lord, they make me weep, seriously) but I love how each girl has a asking price and yet #1 in the Dos section they say:

“Be romantic! This is a marriage proposal, not a business transaction.”

Please someone dig and tell me this is fake.  Please. I already had to see the Sox lose to 26 1/2 games back TAMPA BAY last night and then came home to see this.

How much more I can take, I can't say.

Thank you.

Updated: So, upon some Google research of my own, it appears the site it was a hoax or satire or some such.  I should not be allowed to drink and blog. Or be so gullible.

Open Letter to Sarah Silverman

Sarah,

Well, you've done it yet again.  You have found a way for me to feel bad for a starlet who, under normal circumstances, I'd be carrying on and on over her 2 digit IQ qualifying/self-entitled/train wreck antics.

Somehow, some way, you managed to score yet ANOTHER hosting gig for an MTV awards show.  My theory is that you must have something on the network, because after your last gig this past spring, where you took cheap, disgusting shot after cheap, disgusting shot at Paris Hilton, I honestly can't imagine why they'd hire you again.

You make me want to have a person like Paris Hilton's back, Sarah.  THAT'S NOT COOL.

Last night, after Britney Spears's mailed-in "performance", you got up and went on about "Britney Spears! Amazing, right?" only then to proceed to do your bit that made reference to how her kids were "the most adorable mistakes".  Then, as if that wasn't enough, compared them to be as "cute as the hairless vagina they came out of", topping off the routine by contorting your face/lips to resemble to said vagina. 

I was so uncomfortable, so outraged with your whatever you want to call that, I changed the channel immediately.

I get it; Brit-Brit is a self-imposed target with all the crap she pulls. Love her, hate her, love-to-hate-her, whatever.  But her children, these babies, seriously, what the hell have they ever done to you to be referred to, on a nationally televised program, as a mistake?  To be compared to a vagina?   And just because you proceeded it with the word "adorable" does not offset the word "mistake", which you made sure to repeat a few times. I have seen many comedy acts in my time and I can't recall of one,  not ONE that has taken a shot at a celebrities' kids, let alone at a couple of toddlers. 

From what I've read, MTV specifically requested that there was no reference to Britney's children**.  I mean, it's an MTV awards show, how hard a request is that to honor? Is there not enough material out there? It's like fish-in-a-barrel season right now, seriously, her kids were a must?   But apparently this was red cape  being waved in front of the bull "artistically" speaking, the opportunity to wave the "Free Speech" pass we enjoy, and you made it your mission to be offensive. Not funny-offensive, just offensive-offensive.

Material that is mean does not = funny. Being mean does not equate to comedic gold. 

Being mean simply put means this: You're an asshole.

It's not "brave", it's not "edgy", it's not "intelligent" or "clever", it's not "out there", it's not "your truth".   You're no Kaufman, Ms Silverman.  R.E.M. will not be penning a song with the lyric "Sarah Silverman was not afraid".  They may, however, feel compelled to write, "Sarah Silverman was quite a bitch."

I don't have children but I think I can imagine how upset, how completely bullshit Britney must have been to hear what you said about her babies.

Really, you must be so proud.

With disgust,

Jen

Edited to add: There has been discussion that no such conversation  existed, that her rehearsal went, "joke, joke, joke, 50 Cent, joke joke joke, Britney Spears...".  Regardless, still maintain it was a pretty shitastic thing to do.

Shiny Happy People

So....on a LIGHTER note, there are still some people who know how to make me smile - right here, in my own backyard.

(Or my sister's backyard, depending.)

'Tis PHOTOPALOOZA time agin.

First up, Miss Dare Devil Libinator:

I swear, my sisters make 'em this cute to make my ovaries hurt - ON PURPOSE.

 

"She-think-she-cute."
(if you know the Chris Rock sketch that came from, it really works.)

Next: Little Miss Model, Sars.

I could tell she was getting bored at my house (I am without toys, coloring books, Barbies, etc), so I whipped out the big guns:

"OMG, MAKEOVERS!!!"

If you look in the background, you can see that I gave her a full on manicure (complete with hand soak), did her hair, and let her go thru my jewelry box.  Then she modeled.  This is my favorite shot from the series.

Seriously, there is nothing for kids at my house to play with other than me. 

Take note my reading material:

Mrs. F (Mike's mom): "...and there's Molly Sims..."

Sar: "Where's Beyonce again?"

Then there's Mr. O.

I mean c'mon, right?? Yeah, yeah - token cute kid picture.  Sue me. I think it's one of the best pictures I've taken of him, so it stays.

The neighbors on my right let us use there swings and toys in the yard while they were away. 

He's in a little people house, talking on the cordless phone, holding and caring for a "baby" (piglet - they had a bunch in a small laundry basket). He cried when we told him we had to go back for dinner.

Captured - a sweet moment on the swings between mother and daughter:

Sars is just like her mom, rather chatty. Here they catch up on current events, like how she's gonna be 5! (FIVE!) in a few days. "THAT'S A WHOLE HAND."

Here Sar took it upon herself to drop off Miranda with Mike.

I almost didn't see this; I was on the way to take a few pics of the dining room to be, and there he (and Miranda) was (were), sitting back watching the Sox game. The "mother" to little Miranda was outside playing.

So glad she was able to find a sitter on such short notice.

The GUYS ONLY section at Sarah's birthday party:

Manly men, talking about - manly...erph...Fantasy Football probably.
I wonder who picked up Randy Moss.

To make this all worth you time, a real fug (unshowered, unmakeup'ed) picture of me during a painting session today.

THE ORIGINAL SUBURBAN GANGSTA.
(THAT DAISY IS STREET, ...YO.)

Peace out-
J-Lil.

The Importance of Being Papa

This week I attended my grandfather's funeral. 

Now that the dust has settled a bit, I sit here trying to think of what to say about it.

I guess I could start by saying that I loved him. Very much. 

I could also say that I know that he excelled at many things: being a husband for 60 years, a father, a salesman, a member of his church, a committed volunteer, but most importantly, to me, it was at being a grandfather.

(Yes, I DO say.)

Since he is currently busy catching up with his brother, Fr. Frankie, filling out Heaven HR paperwork (I bet you he's all, "You'd think they'd have this stuff on file.") watching over his wife, and checking in on his beloved Red Sox, I'll lay out what he surely could have written:

Papa White's Guide on How To on Be an Awesome Papa.

(he probably would have titled it better than I just did.)

1. Have a sense of humor.  Don't take yourself too seriously. Know how to laugh. 

No really, close your eyes and put your back into it.

"Oh dear, there he goes again."

I believe I inherited his sense of humor and his fillings.

2. When no one is looking, slip a kid a buck.  Or five.

He did this once in awhile when I was younger and I and was always thrilled with this covert act of generosity.  And I did what any responsible kid would do, I blew it on candy and stickers put that money in a Roth IRA so that in '07 I would be able to purchase my first home.

3. You are there for your grandkids' amusement. This is just part of life's deal.

Before there was "Stuff on My Cat" apparently we kids invented the game "Stuff on My Grandpa".

Sometimes, we'd leave him with the kids:

To be an awesome granddad, you sit there and you take it-- you take it like a man.

Others, the whole family:

Here two year-old Emily rounds out the 5th spot for The Little Village People.

4. Have a sense of style. Show the kids how it's done.

I mean, really, does anything beat getting to say, "My Papa is wicked suave looking?"

Look, we can't all do big arms!...I'll do big arms and you just look at me and go, 'Ooh, he's doing big arms.'

Oh wait, unless you would you count, "My grandfather is so debonair that even Cary Grant is taking notes."

I mean, I would.

5. When you are playing Stratego or Battleship against your junior high-aged granddaughter and she blows you up, pay her a compliment to encourage her competitive nature while still showing what it is to be a good sport.

You could, for example, refer to her as "Khadafi" every now and again.  Trust me, it'll warm her heart.

6. As the years wear on, show them it's never too late to try something new. 

Say, oh I don't know, a new hairdo:

"Hello, 1986 called, and it wants its 'Flock of Seagulls" hairstyle  back."

7. Show that even the smallest of gestures, the ones that don't cost anything, can sometimes can mean more to a kid than a shiny, new Miata.

Up until recently, every year my grandparents would each grab a phone in their house and call me to sing Happy Birthday.  

Often, my grandfather started off the song using a pitch pipe, which cracked me every time.  If I was lucky enough to get the live show, the 2 of them would be seen bowing in front of me as they sung with my present hidden behind their back.  Truly a remarkable performance.

(and people wonder why I love my birthday so much.  WONDER NO MORE.)

8. Love the love of your life with all your heart.  Show the kids what true love looks like, how a woman should be treated (even if you do drive her nuts sometimes, even if she is one very sarcastic broad).

You hold on to the one you love tightly. You see, that is just good sense.

Anyway, while I'm here stating the obvious, I'll end  with I'm going to miss the man I called Papa. 

I know we all will.