I think I may be the neighbor from hell. I don’t throw raucous parties, or drive like one of those douchebag Audi owners through the parking lot. I pick up other people’s trash, and have even been known to say hi when I’m not daydreaming about almond croissants.
Despite my best efforts to be a decent member of society, some apologies to current and former neighbors are definitely in order.
To the neighbor who saw me topless:
Your expression really said it all. It was a mixture of pity, lust and confusion. Coincidentally, that was the same look I once gave to my reflection after eating an entire Little Caesar’s pizza by myself. I’m sure you had no idea that breasts could double as suspenders, or have so many stretch marks that it looks like there’s a freeway system tattooed on them. The truth is, puberty was not kind to me, and my breasts are now registered weapons in nine states. I guess I should’ve rushed to cover myself up, but I was pretty sure it was the last opportunity I’d ever have to show my chesticles to a man, and I had to soak it up. I’m sorry if this has stirred up a weird fetish, and your future wife finds you searching for “low-hanging tits” on the internet one day.
Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. I’d like to think it’s because of the time spent with family eating good food, and giving thanks. It’s actually because I was born on Thanksgiving the year I was born, and I enjoy focusing on things relating to me.
I’m sure there will be several posts today talking about what bloggers are thankful for. People will mention their family, their health, their children. All the posts will be beautifully written, and at this point in NaBloPoMo, my brain is in meltdown mode. I can’t compete.
This is why, instead of telling you what I am thankful for this Thanksgiving, I’ll just tell you what I could really do without.
When most people think of hell, they imagine a fiery inferno that they’ll be enslaved in for the rest of eternity. When I think of hell, it looks like sharing a jail cell with Rush Limbaugh while Christmas music plays 24 hours a day. “Jingle Bell Rock” makes me want to kick myself in the face, and I’m pretty sure “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” is the inspiration for many a serial killer. The fact that it begins playing earlier every year actually makes me think conspiracy theorists might be right, and the government may actually be practicing some form of mind control on the masses.
I’m back! Did you all miss me? My best friend had a little too much fun time guest posting yesterday. I saw him Googling “ways to overthrow your roommate and take over her blog” last night. I’m scared.
Every year on his birthday, a friend of mine publishes a list of lessons he has learned in the last year with the number of things determined by the age he’s turning. I’ve always thought this was a great idea, and wanted to celebrate my birthday this year by doing the same.
Here is the list of 32 life lessons I’ve learned (or at least finally accepted) in my 32 years of life:
- You always have choices in life. Your choices may suck, but you still have them.
- No matter how much you think someone is “The One” they aren’t if they can’t give you the relationship you need.
- Life is unfair at times, and bad things will happen to good people.
- It’s important to know when to pull the walls down, and let someone into your life.
- Conversely, it’s good to know when to put them up, and kick someone out of your life. Continue reading
As some of you may know, I have never had anyone guest post on this blog. I’ve wanted people to post here, but as time went on, the pressure built up as to who the first person should be. The Chosen One.
My best friend/roommate approached me with the idea of writing a guest post for my birthday. When I realized I’d be able to take a day off during NaBlowMe, I wept with joy. This is better than any material gift a person could buy. Turning
Sexy years old 32 years old has never been so great.
Please welcome my best friend Aric, President of the Hooked on Tonic Fan Club, and lead exotic dancer in my dreams. (P.S. He’s single, ladies! Inquire within.)
Hello fans of Jen, one and all! I’m here to celebrate the awesomeness that is Jen and Tonic on her special day. Her birthday! You are all very important to her. She values the closeness and sense of community you each have a part in creating at Sips of Jen and Tonic. I thought it would be worthwhile to give you all a peek into what life is like living under the same roof as this fun-sized, creative tornado.
Please ask any questions that you may have burning in your hearts about Jen in the comments section. My intention for this post is for it to be interactive, and I’ll gladly tell all! It’s hard to expose a woman who exposes herself to strangers regularly, but, you know, I’ll try. My name is Aric by the way. It’s nice to formally make your acquaintance. I’ve heard great things about most of you, and some terrible things about some of you. Rest assured, your secrets are safe with me, and her, and the neighbors. Continue reading
Credit: Writer’s Digest
I don’t remember the first time I thought, “Hey, I’d like to write.” Some people have a specific incident they can point to as the exact moment they decided to become a writer. Truthfully, I think writing chose me.
I remember lying in the grass during summers at my grandparents’ house, staring up at the clouds and noticing them taking shape. I’d see dinosaurs, faces, hearts and bears. The idea that I may be the only one experiencing this kind of magic made me feel lonely. I desperately wanted to share what I was seeing with another person.
In junior high, our class read the book Where the Red Fern Grows together. We had to read some parts at home, and some parts were read aloud in class. The ending is quite sad, and I remember looking around the room and seeing my classmates crying. The idea that we were all sharing the same emotion, just because of a book, made a huge impact on me.
As I got older, books really began to give gave me a way to understand the world around me. I loved nonfiction, or fictional works which were (or seemed like they could be) based on true stories. I wanted to know about life, about real life. I understood that there were things happening outside of my very small world, and I wanted to know about all of them. Continue reading
Yesterday I played “5 Truths and a Lie” to test you, my readers, on your knowledge of the real Jen. As a recap, your options were:
- I’m an emergency preparedness nut
- I know a martial arts technique which focuses on pressure points
- I placed in a state free throw competition
- I worked at a collection agency
- I was dropped on my head as a kid
- I have ear problems that cause church bells to go off in them every once in awhile
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the majority of you guessed correctly. I am not, in fact, a martial arts badass who could take you out with the touch of a finger. A girl can dream.
I suppose the plethora of correct answers means that you are learning more about me from reading this blog. This shows how far I’ve come.
When I first began Sips of Jen and Tonic, I only wanted to post humor here. I like writers who have strong writing voices, and whose work is consistent. I recently told Le Clown that my goal has always been to write one way so well that you could identify my work even if my name wasn’t attached to it. Continue reading
I was telling a friend that one of the things I love most about writing is how it allows me to make connections to other people. In a way, a blog is often like an online diary that we let other people read. Some people get very personal, and visiting their blog can feel like having a conversation with an old friend.
But can you really know everything about a person just by reading snippets of their lives? Or at least make an educated guess about who they are in real life? Well, we’re about to find out.
I’m putting my Hooked on Tonics to a test. We’ll see how well do you know the real Jen, the one who exists outside of WordPress. Below are five truths, and one lie about me. Can you tell which is which? Continue reading