Cat bathing tips, courtesy of Wikihow:

If you click on the title, you can read the entire article, but I was reduced to giggle fits at reading the following:
"In order to reduce chances of getting scratched, you may decide to put your cat inside a mesh laundry bag before bathing her. Make sure that you are able to keep her head above water at all times."

It is Friday and I am suffering from ADD/Overcaffeination.

PLEASE ENDEAVOUR TO USED IT FOR THE CHILDREN OF GOD.
The above title is taken from an email sent to my work email address this morning. I usually reserve my work email for work related issues and use my personal email address(es) for my porno, Ebay, and otherwise incriminating endeavors I don't want our IT guy to read about at night when he's sitting alone in his office scavenging for hot and spicy material on employees' company emails. I don't generally receive junk SPAMMY emails at work. I don't generally even see the SPAM that arrives at my personal emails either (thanks Gmail!).

So this SPAM is run of the mill (My husband died and I am dying too, but I want to give a Jesus-lover my ten million dollars, you should call this man in the Netherlands, blahblahblah), but this woman! Oh! She should write poetry. My favorite excerpts:

"I am not afraid of death hence I know where I am going. I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the Lord."

The bosom of the Lord? Maya Angelou couldn't even write greatness like that. As a personal note, the phrasing "bosom of the Lord" makes me think this woman thinks the Lord is a lady because we all know men do not have bosoms, nor would they put people in their bosoms given the opportunity.

"I BELIEVE HE WILL LEAD YOU TO YOUR SUCCESS IN JESUS NAME AMEN."

You guys! Jesus is giving me ten million dollars! 60g video iPods for everyone! Let's all start lighting our cigarettes with $100 bills!

Etc., Etc., Etc. (A few other thoughts (briefly))


If Jesus was giving me 10 million dollars, I would spend most of my days sitting in a giant tub of Nivea Night Renewal Body Cream. And then I would start a philanthropy program to help starving kids in war torn countries have softer skin with this stuff too. On the whole, I find the phrase Body Cream to be something my granny would use, BUT! I am addicted to this goo. I swear, its like rubbing butter all over yourself! Its absolutely decadent and makes your skin tingle and I cannot stop rubbing it all over myself. Today already, I have applied and reapplied the stuff no less than three times. And its not even night yet.

Have things gotten strange around here lately? I feel the pang of change settling in, and between stalking my 7th grade crushes and sitting in vats of body cream, I think things can only look up from here.

I have been obsessively listening to Diana Ross and The Supremes this week. That's really all I had to say on the matter, until I did a Google Image Search for The Supremes and discovered that little girls can now be elected as Arch-Bishops in the Catholic Church. There is so much one could say about this photo and its relation to the Catholic Church, but if I discuss at length, the aforementioned dying Christian woman won't give me her ten million Netherlands dollars.

(Currently, the conversion rate has ten million Netherlands dollars equivalent to 12,621,456.18 USD. Bill and Ted say: Excellent!)

And while I'm discussing currency conversion rates... Taco Bell's current promotion is that you could win 100,000 pesos and be El Presidente of Taco Bell. 100,000 pesos is approximately $9. (Restrictions and taxes may apply. El Presidente does not carry any responsibilites or power.) But think of it this way: if you lived in Mexico, $9 would buy you a 153624587423607 tacos from a guy with a donkey wearing a sombrero. Seriously, if I'm El Presidente of Taco Bell, I expect superior customer service and a lifetime supply of free tacos, burritos, and those cinnamon twistys.

HOW CUTE ARE ANIMALS THAT WEAR CLOTHES?
See:

I want to dress like a unicorn. Every single day.

SWU (Single White Unicorn) seeks LTR with a dashing Centaur to frolick and play all day long. Must be handsome and charming. Are you my Centaur? Let's meet and find out.

Longest.day.ever.

8 AM - 4 PM, Work
12:00 PM - 1:00 PM, Lunchdate with new lawyer friend
4 PM - 5 PM, Drive to MCLA (School)
5 PM - 6:30 PM, Teach REAL College Students how to "do marketing"
6:30 PM - 8:00 PM, Drive to Northampton, stopping at 1 of the 4 Taco Bells in this state (Its off of 91 on Route 2, FYI)
8:00 PM - 10:30 PM, Play Rehearsal
10:30 PM - ???, Alcohol consumption

Internal Monologue
Shit. I brough my lunch today and I ate it already. Its not even 11 yet. How did that happen? Did I just have a blackout and eat all my lunch? Shit, and now I'll have to wait until tonight when I can grab that Taco Bell. Oh! I'm having lunch with the lawyer today, I hope we get Thai. Today is going to be the longest day ever. Maybe I should make a pedicure appointment for this weekend, my toes are looking ragged.

Public Service Announcement
Friends, do not blog angry. Yesterday, in the midst of a mental nervous work breakdown, I started furiously writing an angry blog post. But angry blogging can only come back to harm you in the end, with its noxious karma swirling around your head; can you live with noxious karma around your head? Do you want strangers reminding you of that time you lost your cool?

Stop this angsty, angry blogging. Because you're not a teenager anymore. Stop it. Stop. It.

Kitten parade!
Today, my coworker and I discovered that we have both owned cats named Napkin. Napkin is not a common cat name, it certainly is no Snowball, Fluffy, or Marshmallow. I currently own a roly-poly cat named Napkin, my coworker having owned a set of cats named Napkin and Placemat, as named by her children. My next cat will be named Hoagie or Bacon. Assuming I ever own another cat, which is up for argument. I'm not a cat person.

BUT. We have a new kitty in our house and she wakes up early with the sunshine and so all the cats wake up and every morning is KITTY PARADE of playful fun and wonderful merriment. Like the kitty halftime show of the Puppy Bowl on the Animal Planet, even our cranky cat Duck, runs and jumps and plays. And she hates everything: other cats, people, anything that looks at her the wrong way.

The Yiddish are coming...The Yiddish are coming...(groan)
I found this job posting on www.playbill.com today, and based on the title alone, I can confidently tell you this could be the worst musical since Mamma Mia:

The hilarious new revu-sical, The Yiddish Are Coming… The Yiddish Are Coming! is seeking a belting comedienne (Gilda Radner type) in her 20’s or 30’s to play three roles.

That sentence made me vomit in my mouth a little, nay, a lot. Revu-sical? Oh my heart, how will I ever make it in NYC if I can't deal with the schmaltzy-ness that is Broadway?

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.
Last night I had a dream that me and Chris Gantz, circa 1994 (7th Grade style) were at an amusement park and we were having an awesome fun time together. YEAH! So seriously, if any of you know of Chris Gantz's wearabouts, tell him I'm looking for him and want to give him a jumping high five and that we should go to the Six Flags together. I've already tried to find him on MySpace and I Googled his name, but I've come up empty handed. (Except this guy on MySpace who is not THE Chris Gantz, but just some guy who didn't get the memo that the goth-Marilyn Manson look went out of style in 2002. )

What good is the internet if I can't track down and voyeuristically seek out people that were in my dreams last night? ITS NOT HELPFUL. If the government ever want to put a system in place where we all register on the internet, I will support it so that I can find all the Chris Gantzes in my life.

Hi, I am definitely not creepy about stalking people on the internet in any way.

I should have known when creepy things kept happening...

Living in an apartment, I tend to get junk mail addressed to previous tenants, but really, should I be concerned about this: Because I have to say, it might explain a few things around here...like the spooky music always playing, the mysterious unexplained macabre events, and why I keep having nightmares about dinosaurs eating me whole.

For Jeffrey, who loves the Swedes:

On this day in 1975, the Swedish pop (super)group ABBA, released their self-titled album, containing the hit single, "SOS." Formed in the early 1970s by Bjorn Ulvaeus, Benny Andersson, Agnetha Faltskog, and Anni-Frid Lyngstad, ABBA arguably came into their own with this, their third album. One of the album's songs, "Mamma Mia," became the title for the Broadway musical based on the songs of ABBA, which premiered in 1999.

Today's Celebrity Birthdays.

Happy Birthday to:
Crispin Glover, you creepy rat loving man, you!

And Spanish artist, Joan Miro, who is among my favorite artists.

AND A BIG HAPPY HIGH FIVE DAY TO EVERYBODY! (Jumping High Fives All Around.)

Today is a big day in history...ch-ch-ch-check it out.

Darlin, don't you go and cut your hair. (Warning: lots of photos of myself contained herein.)

"Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen"
-Hair

So everybody, to the left is me just mere weeks ago in New York City* visiting Neener-Beener. Finnish dancing happened, then some Neo-futuristas happened, thrift store shopping on 9th Avenue happened, and also some alcoholic beverages were consumed therein as well.

*Note my shoes, previously mentioned two posts below and the pain they caused.

My hair was longer than its been in a long while.

But this weekend, my sister (aka the best cosmonaut-ologist ever!) cut it off. And my swoop. You guys, I don't have a swoop for the first time in five years and I am not even sure what to do with myself. My indie rock powers have drained from my body. Look, I have short hair! And bangs! And I am standing in my bathroom!

My new haircut does remind me suspiciously of someone I admire though...
Here's a clue: I never dated Carson Daly, and I am not an African-American bass player who later became a stripper with AIDS in Rent.

"This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius

The age of Aquarius

Aquarius! Aquarius!"

Have I ever told you guys how much I hate that musical? I do.

Hippity-Hoppity

Duders, I had the best weekend ever. Because I am lazy, in anecdotal bullet points, I present to you, my Easter weekend.

*First of all, I'd like to recommend that you fly Midwest Airlines. Because the seats are big and comfy. Because they bake delicious chocolate chip cookies ON BOARD. Because they are affordable.

*My cousin and I spent an afternoon walking around that part of Minneapolis she always tells me about and I have to say: its pretty great. If it weren't so damn cold in the winter, I'd probably live in Minneapolis. Good vintage stores, great music stores, yummy food, nice vibe. Big city feel, but not overwhelming.

*My dad, uncle, and I watched the Minnesota Twins whomp on the Yankees! It was glorious fun. I liked the part in the 2nd inning where the pitcher's cup broke. Johnny Damon looks incorrect without his beard, for more on my fun at the baseball game and Johnny Damon's Jesus beard, I refer you to my Easter/Baseball play. Also, here is a picture of me and my dad enjoying baseball!:

We have the same nose, no? And the same eyes. Basically, we're the same baseball lovin fool. (Sigh) If only I could grow a mustache.

*Easter egg dying! This year some of my eggs featured these catchy phrases: #1 Mike Ditka Fan, I heart Bo Bice, Jesus rocks!

*The Park at the Mall of Ohmerica. My tiny cousin wanted to go, and because I am reckless with abandon, I agreed to take her. The rides are pretty tame, but its giant fun indoors! Paul Bunyan's Log Flume ride is my favorite, but we missed out on that one this time around. Pepsi Ripsaw Roller Coaster is Ok-go! with me.

*Three of my aunts, my sister & her boyfriend, my cousin and myself wooped it up B-I-N-G-O style one night. My aunts have absolutely no class! Oh crap you guys I can't lie, it was so trashy and simultaneously awesome with all the old ladies with their lucky troll dolls, fifty Bingo dobbers, and the non-stop chain smoking. I'm not even going to wait to get old to start being one of those ladies. I'm going to start hitting up Bingo at the Catholic school down the street from my house, like I've been saying I want to do since September. This is what the old ladies at Bingo look like:

*The Easter Bunny was good to me this year. Cadbury eggs and kisses (the xoxo kind, not the chocolate kind.). I am lucky.

Jenny Van Gogh

Hey, did you guys know that I'm an artist too? Tonight, I completed two in a series, I'm working on that features under the sea creatures- so far, I've only painted octopuses (octopii?) Either way, iPod octopus on the left looks much more awesome in real life. And yes, I am available for commissioned work, so long as you like paintings of octopii, robots, or dinosaurs because that is all I am willing to paint right now. But mostly octopii.

Baseball all the way!

Last week, I was invited into former Yankee pitcher and author of the controversial book, Ball Four, Jim Bouton's home for a spot of tea. Right now, I bet you are thinking to yourself, "How does that happen to you, Jen, amazing lover of sports and baseball?" (Please see picture for the testament of my love for Ohmerica's 2nd Favorite Past-time (Ohmerica's 1st Favorite Past-time being Freestyle Walking, of course; (please also note that my shirt says Team Mascot and I am standing next to the Team Mascot.)))

I went to the house on business for work; Mr. Bouton's wife is on our Board of Directors (and she's a lovely dancer too), and I was asked to drive to their house and pick up some posters and other brick-a-brack. Now I don't know what kind of house that Brett Favre or any of the other baseball players live in, but Yankee pitchers and their ballroom dancing wives live in houses that could fit five of my parents' house inside. I could sleep in the garage on a ratty old blanket and I'd be living larger than I am in my apartment now. (Photo shown is NOT actual Jim Bouton mansion.)

I parked my car in the driveway and then noticed that these people have TWO FRONT DOORS. Do I choose Door #1 or Door #2? Crap. I didn't realize this adventure would be a choose your own. By the way, go back to page 87.


So I chose door #2 because it was bigger. Logical, right? INCORRECT! Suddenly, a man appears at the other door, but that man was not really a man at all....He was...a dolphin, named JIM BOUTON!

















"Come over to this door!" Jim Bouton says.

"Woops! Sorry! Okay!" (I shuffle in my flip flops over to the other front door ten gajillion steps to the left.)

While waiting for his wife to make her appearance with posters and brick-a-brack, he gave me tea and asked me why I was wearing flip-flops when "its so damn cold outside". I told him I made poor shoe choices whilst in New York City the previous weekend. Things we talked about: the weather, New York City, my feet. Things we did not talk about: the Yankees, baseball, his appearance on Larry King Live the night before, his feet.

His wife appeared, handed me the goods, and I was on my way.

The moral of the story: Former Yankees pitchers live in bigger houses than me. Also, this story makes my dad jealous and yet, love me more than he loves you.

THE END.

Waging a war...on my feet.

Last weekend, I traveled to New York, one of my favorite places on the planet, to see Nina, my Finnish lovaaah, whose dance company was performing in New York's premiere gayborhood, Chelsea, at the Joyce. I was excited about the beautiful weather and needing to satisfy my little piggys love of the outdoors, I thought I could get away with wearing some reasonable, peeptoe shoes. Basically, by Saturday night, I couldn't walk, I just scraped my feet along the sidewalk- scrrrrrrrrrrrape. Having a few peachtinis or whatever the dancing waiter served me, I thought, "No! I will not put up with sore feet and blistered toes! No! I will not lose this battle!" and so I took my shoes off and walked barefoot on the sidewalks of New York. Yes, I realize that by taking my shoes off and braving the sidewalks barefooted I was already losing the battle and Yes, it is entirely likely that I have the black plague or the avian flu in my feet by now. By Sunday, my feet looked like this:

The alleged shoes in question:

These tan leather peep toes came from the Ginormous Salvation Army in Springfield MA, which has become part of my weekend routine to visit. On a normal day, I find them delightful to wear, but trekking through the rough terrain of New York- I finally understand all those ladies who wear sneakers with their power suits to work. Ladies, I understand you, and I am one of you now.

These gold shoes were actually purchased at the Payless because the original offending pair of shoes were causing blisters on my feet. The gold ones, which I find gaudy yet lovable and entirely not something I would wear under normal circumstances, only worsened the problem, despite being flats and stretchy.

These plum peep toe Hush Puppies came from a vintage shop in the East Village from a woman who was perfecting a new style of singing I like to call, "Singing the two words of the song you know really well in a sliding-shouting crescendo". The vintage store owner woman has perfected the technique. But the shoes...

They are the sort of shoes that make a girl embody words like beautiful and sexy and every girl should have at least one pair of shoes that makes her feel those things. These shoes are divine. You know, not so great for traipsing around New York City when the L train isn't running, but a beauty to behold, no doubt.

In conclusion, don't wear uncomfortable shoes and expect to walk quickly or comfortably around New York. Even if they were comfortable for the five minutes you wore them at the store. I've been confined to flip flops all week like a college kid shuffling off to buffalo- I mean, shuffling off to class.

For my friends at Das Pillow.

How to Survive When Lost in the Mountains
1. If you told someone where you were going, search and rescue teams will be looking for you. Teams will search during daylight hours for adults and around the clock for children who are alone.
2. Find a natural shelter, and stay warm and dry.
3. Signal rescuers for help with three fires arranged in a triangle at the highest point possible.
4. Do not wander far. Search teams will be trying to retrace your path and may miss you if you have gone off in a different direction. Searchers often wind up finding a vehicle with no one in it because the driver has wandered off.
5. Be bigger than the bear.

Coming soon...
Cute shoes on Jen's feet vs. New York City, Outré Lounge Mix Challenge, How I sobbed like a little girl at the last three episodes of Six Feet Under, Why I would rather drive a 15 passenger van through Manhattan than drive my Corolla through Boston: A narrative essay, Why I love a good conspiracy theory, Cleaning my insides out from the inside out, and much much more!

One final note:
Go read my first play I've written for A Play A Day. Its about cheesecake. Writing plays about food and playing with my food: my two favorite hobbies.

The Outré Lounge MixCD Challenge.

This is the post where you can leave your story, phrase, hopes, dreams, and fears that you'd like to see manifested as a mixCD made by me. Post anonymously if you want. The winner will get a copy of the mix and a few other fun treats.

Submissions being accepted until Wednesday, April 5th.


I don't want to influence your thinking about this mixCD challenge, but does this children's toy native american headdress make my butt look fat?