Bragging

AOL Television wants to make out with me

Overheard at Maine's Portland International Jetport

Bag screener: M'am, we're going to have to rescreen this one.

She holds up my plastic bag containing some Maine purchases.

Me: No problem!

The bag screeners gather 'round to look at the contents of my bag. I giggle as I think about the bundt cake pan that I bought at a yard sale, and my random flea market purchases.

The bag screener hands me my bag.

Bag Screener: Your bags were fun to screen!

TYM and I go over to some chairs nearby to sit down and put our shoes back on. I recount my conversation with the bag checker.

TYM: Did you have the stuff we bought at the sex shop in that bag?

I turn red.

Me: Oh. Yeah.

Hope you enjoyed my sex toys, Portland International Jetport screeners!

What's Cooking?

I am! That's right, folks. I'm officially a chef. Now, I guess I should figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life. That'll have to wait until after I get back from Maine, though. TYM and I are taking a few much-needed days to relax and enjoy nature.

A New Project

Hey, y'all! So I started a new blog. This one won't be going away, and I'll still post here with the same frequency I have been, which is not very much. It's not really funny or anything. Mostly, I talk about food and bitch about the FDA. If you're into that sort of thing, then you should check out The Food Hippie. And I'm still at American Midol, of course.

Thirst

TYM: What are you drinking?

Me: Kombucha. It tastes like ass but it's really good for you. Wanna try it?

TYM: Sure.

[He takes a sip, then makes a disgusted face.]

Me: [giggling] What do you think?

TYM: It tastes like vinegar. And death.

Tax Day

On this day in history...

Jackie Robinson stepped onto Ebbets Field for the Brooklyn Dodgers, becoming the first black player in Major League Baseball.

The Titanic sunk.

The city of San Francisco was incorporated, paving the way for Rice-a-Roni.

Andrew Johnson became the 17th president of the United States.

The bottle opener was invented.

Ray Croc opened the first McDonald's, making him partly responsible for the 10 pounds I can't ever seem to lose.

Tokyo Disneyland opened.

FOX inflicted Jim Carrey on us with its "In Living Color" premiere, and helped me make up my mind about what I wanted to be when I grew up: a Fly Girl.

Leona Helmsley was sent to the pokey for tax evasion.

Howard Stern's radio show premiered.

Jean-Paul Sartre, Greta Garbo and Pol Pot died.

Seth Rogan, Samantha Fox and Leonardo da Vinci were born, along with yours truly. I woke up this morning to a house full of friends from high school, a screaming godbaby and two very traumatized cats. There were meerkats and french fries and laughter and sunshine and a very special delivery of flowers. 33 29 is pretty kickass so far.

Regarding Rock of Love 2

So remember that chick who got all the plastic surgery so she could look like Barbie? Well, The Former Roommate alerted me to another woman who might have gotten plastic surgery to resemble her favorite doll:





Uncanny, isn't it?

I am Damp. Very Damp.

Hi. My name's Jess, and I have psoriasis.

I don't have it super bad, just a few patches of it here and there. It gets a wee bit better in the summer, a wee bit worse in the winter, but it never really goes away totally. After years of controlling it with steroid creams and whatnot, I decided to stop for two reasons: 1) they suppress immune functioning, and while that's really great for psoriasis, not so much in helping my body fight off other things that are potentially more harmful than a small, itchy skin rash and 2) I'm a fucking hippie.

That began my quest for a homeopathic cure for psoriasis. I have tried everything; apple cider vinegar, coconut oil and Dead Sea salts, just to name a few. Everything improves my condition with consist ant use, but nothing ever gets rid of it totally. After taking a couple of classes where we talked a lot about Chinese Medicine, I decided to visit the teaching clinic at the New York College of Traditional Chinese Medicine today.

After filling out a four-page medical history form, having my pulse taken, blood pressure checked and tongue examined, and answering deeply personal questions about the contents of my toilet bowl, I got my verdict: I have an accumulation of dampness which is affecting my spleen functioning. Then she said the words that I was hoping she wouldn't say, "Okay, let's get you some acupuncture." I had been hoping for herb tinctures and teas and crap, but alas. I'd be pricked with needles instead.

I have a giant problem with needles. They make me queasy. I'm willing to suffer through them for the sake of keeping my diabetic cat alive, or piercing something or getting a tattoo, but I still hide behind my hands every time I see a needle piercing skin. So I was not super psyched.

It wasn't so bad, actually, although when she stuck one IN MY HEAD, I nearly hyperventilated. The worst part was having to sit there and relax for 20 minutes afterward with 15 needles sticking out of my body. I don't relax well to begin with, and with the added "I have 15 needles stuck in my body right now" mantra, it was basically impossible.

I feel 2% less damp already! I'll be heading back weekly until my dampness is gone. I liked my doctor a whole lot, but she wasn't Chinese. Is it weird that I was a little disappointed by that?

Hit Me With Your Best Shot... Fire Away

Because I'm a pretty awesome girlfriend, I got TYM a day at the West Side Pistol Range for Valentine's Day. Schedules being what they are, we couldn't make it right away, but we finally got to go yesterday. It was an absolute blast.

The way it works is, if you're a beginner, they lump you into a group with other beginners, give you a short classroom lecture, make you sign forms saying "I understand that I might die today and my family can't sue" and "I have never been arrested for stalking or threatening an intimate partner (but celebrities are okay)," and then set you loose on the range. Our group consisted of three couples and one lone guy who probably had neither expected nor wanted to be in a group with three couples. Lone Guy made the best of it, though.

When we started shooting, I immediately had two problems: my gun kept jamming up and I really, really sucked at shooting. TYM was immediately awesome, despite the fact that he hadn't fired a gun since he was a kid, at summer camp. I went to Christian summer camp as a kid. TYM went to ninja summer camp, apparently.

Shortly thereafter, I got a new gun and TYM advised me to close the other eye when lining up my shots, which improved my shooting immensely. I took my best target home to hang it up in my office to remind myself and everyone else that I'm a badass. Don't believe that I'm a badass? Check this out:



Bad. Ass. Well, not totally. (And side note -- time to freshen up that haircolor, eh?) At one point, Lone Guy and TYM swapped out their bullseye targets for ones depicting humans, and I just couldn't do it. That either makes me a pussy, or them potential serial killers -- I'm not sure.

Also, My classmate Marina was very upset when I told her about my Sunday plans, so naturally I sent her a pic of me smiling, gun in hand. She wrote back, "Oh God! What's next? Abortion clinic bombings and a vote for McCain?" Heee.

Overheard on the Upper West Side

After a two-hour drunken brunch where conversation consisted primarily of engagements, weddings and having babies.

Me: You know, we were having very different conversations at Drunk Brunch two years ago.

Summer: I know.

Sharona: Hm... should we talk about anal instead?

Jess and Summer: Yes please!