June 30th, 2010
My friend Claudia brought up a good point...what is Satan's last name?
When I received this question, I was in the rare mood of cleaning my boyfriend's brownstone and(since this is rarely my inclination) I felt it best to stick with my task. Through a telepathic seance, I got my handlers on it and (by using a graphic intensive PowerPoint presentation and interpretative dance) they provided me the answer to the Satan surname conundrum.
As it turns out, Satan was born "Angus 'Scooter' Cox-Grabs". His parents were Ohio dairy farmers and members of the Facebook group, "Fans of Hyphenated Names".
Childhood was a charmed time for Satan...the days were filled with udder squeezing and nighttime was when the Cox-Grab's indulged in Pictionary.
All seemed well until teeneagehood. It had always been the assumption that Satan would take over the family dairy business when his parents passed away(presumably in a freak accident at the county Fair's "jumping in a giant burlap sack" contest.) Well, he was starting to think his passion could lay with other possibilities: Being a customer service rep for Sprint, having an online recycled umbrella business or being a powerful, supernatural entity that is the personification of evil and the enemy of God and humankind.
His parents did not respond kindly to Satan's ambitions for a new life course not related to calcium. Right before they shunned him from their lives forever, they doused him with a bucket of spoiled goat milk. As a result, his skin turned into a fiery shade of red. Not his color. He was an autumn.
This primal abandonment was the catalyst for him to go in the direction of career choice # 3, being the allegory that represents a crisis of faith, individualism, free will, wisdom and enlightenment.
Using good business sense, he knew he'd not be taken seriously as a "rebeller" of God with the name "Angus 'Scooter' Cox-Grabs".
He went with Satan because fame and prestige is always attained by the world's most notable one namers... God. Moses. Bono.
Satan knew that his target audience had to be the souls that were already on a downward spiral and vulnerable, strip club clientele. Easy sell.
One night at Beavers Gentleman Club, Satan crossed paths with two weathered British lads. The dialogue went as follows:
Satan(To Mick J.)- Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith
Mick J - Wanker.( Then this limber large lipped Brit went on stage and challenged Anastasia the stripper to a dancing like a chicken-off.)
Satan(To Keith R.) - Pleased to meet you (whoo whoo)
Hope you guessed my name, (whoo whoo) oh yeah (whoo whoo)
Keith R - Jesus Bloody Christ! If you tell me your name I'll give you a semi-synthetic opioid drug synthesized from morphine that's a derivative of the opium poppy.
Laughter, heavy drug use and a Satan theme song ensued.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 325 - Forgiveness? Overrated
June 29th, 2010
Some not so breaking news: 2 nights ago at the BET awards, Chris Brown paid tribute to Michael Jackson by singing an (is this really happening) over the top emotional rendition of "Man in the Mirror". The "this moment is bigger than me" production was equipped with his cracked voice, bad soap opera acting crumble to the stage and wounded eyes of a puppy from a Sara McLaughlin "Cruelty to Animals" commercial.
Later in the show, the "agonized" 21 year old recording artist with that pesky felony assault case stemming from beating ex girlfriend, Rihanna, cries, "I let you all down before, but I won't do it again. I promise you."
Here's my struggle Chris Brown. Maybe psychologists, new age types named Star and Oprah would encourage me to find that place in my heart to forgive you. But...how can I say this...I don't wanna.
My intuition tells me that your spectacle was about saving your career. Not your soul.
But rest assured Chris Brown... my disappointed also lies with the people who will undoubtedly celebrate your resurrection. The entertainment industry scriptures makes it widely known that the process goes as follows: The public gets a high from a celebrity's rise to fame, wants to make love to a star's demise and then will have a divine outer body experience with the comeback.
(Maybe 1 exception. OJ Simpson. And I'm still not even 100% convinced that it's not possible that some spin will eventually label him a victim.)
So Chris, your handlers were successful in convincing you to tap into the public's biggest weakness,...forgiveness through covering the King of Pop's "Man in the Mirror". Ironic because (last year) Rihanna looked in the mirror and saw an unrecognizable face covered with bruises, scratches and swelling.
Chris's ascent back into the stratosphere of celebrities who have gotten the get out of jail free card for douchbaggery began with being forgiven by the highest of powers that sees the good in everyone...Jermain Jackson. The lesser than Jackson proudly supports the (I hit you because I love you) performer by saying,
- "People make mistakes, they need support, and he's a wonderful performer."
- "How can he learn from his mistakes if you don't give him the chance? He needs that. I support him a thousand per cent."
- "If Christ can forgive us all, we can look at Chris Brown,"
Jermain, that's big of you. Kind of. If I sing "Man in the Mirror" at a family reunion, will you forgive me for writing about colonics yesterday?
You will? You're such a softy.
Looking forward to your public sympathy for Adolph Hitler, Darth Vader, the 9/11 terrorists, Hans Gruber and the shark from Jaws.
Some not so breaking news: 2 nights ago at the BET awards, Chris Brown paid tribute to Michael Jackson by singing an (is this really happening) over the top emotional rendition of "Man in the Mirror". The "this moment is bigger than me" production was equipped with his cracked voice, bad soap opera acting crumble to the stage and wounded eyes of a puppy from a Sara McLaughlin "Cruelty to Animals" commercial.
Later in the show, the "agonized" 21 year old recording artist with that pesky felony assault case stemming from beating ex girlfriend, Rihanna, cries, "I let you all down before, but I won't do it again. I promise you."
Here's my struggle Chris Brown. Maybe psychologists, new age types named Star and Oprah would encourage me to find that place in my heart to forgive you. But...how can I say this...I don't wanna.
My intuition tells me that your spectacle was about saving your career. Not your soul.
But rest assured Chris Brown... my disappointed also lies with the people who will undoubtedly celebrate your resurrection. The entertainment industry scriptures makes it widely known that the process goes as follows: The public gets a high from a celebrity's rise to fame, wants to make love to a star's demise and then will have a divine outer body experience with the comeback.
(Maybe 1 exception. OJ Simpson. And I'm still not even 100% convinced that it's not possible that some spin will eventually label him a victim.)
So Chris, your handlers were successful in convincing you to tap into the public's biggest weakness,...forgiveness through covering the King of Pop's "Man in the Mirror". Ironic because (last year) Rihanna looked in the mirror and saw an unrecognizable face covered with bruises, scratches and swelling.
Chris's ascent back into the stratosphere of celebrities who have gotten the get out of jail free card for douchbaggery began with being forgiven by the highest of powers that sees the good in everyone...Jermain Jackson. The lesser than Jackson proudly supports the (I hit you because I love you) performer by saying,
- "People make mistakes, they need support, and he's a wonderful performer."
- "How can he learn from his mistakes if you don't give him the chance? He needs that. I support him a thousand per cent."
- "If Christ can forgive us all, we can look at Chris Brown,"
Jermain, that's big of you. Kind of. If I sing "Man in the Mirror" at a family reunion, will you forgive me for writing about colonics yesterday?
You will? You're such a softy.
Looking forward to your public sympathy for Adolph Hitler, Darth Vader, the 9/11 terrorists, Hans Gruber and the shark from Jaws.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Day 324 - Hooked on Colonics
June 28th, 2010
I generally pride myself on being better than writing about those dark lowbrow dimensions of bathroom humor. Today(in the spirit of honesty and shame), I am not better than that.
You know when you wake up in the morning, roll over and ask your significant other, "What's up with colonics?" Happened this morning.
Warning: If you tend to fend away from (fecal) matters that are in no way related to sophistication and aren't comfortable with the process of dried up shi-at being removed from one's colon, stop reading now. Find blogs with safe topics. Like animated blue jays.
According to legitimate sources, a colonic is an internal cleansing of the colon using a gentle and safe infusion of filtered water to remove toxic build-up.
Urban dictionary, the interweb's darling of passages describing the meaning of terms in a raw-like fashion reveals that a colonic is(seriously, step away from the screen if you can't handle the exaggeration of potty humor) the burning, uncontrollable flow of ass water and acidic shit that exits your colon while burning your asshole (aka: ass piss). A mixture of this ("ass piss") and bowl water may also back splash onto your cheeks...this usually depends on the force of the colonic and consistency of the("ass piss".)
Don't judge me. I dared to leap out of my comfort zone by tapping into colon irrigation. I won't judge you. If you're constipated.
THEY say that the benefits of a colonic include an increased sense of well-being and renewed vitality, illness prevention and improved digestion. THEY also tell us that the procedure is a hyped up myth that removes that "good" bacteria. I generally feel that one should never question the wisdom and findings of THEY...but this leaves me(and my colon) perplexed.
THEY did leave me hanging...but the next best source, tabloid magazines, did not. I peruse (but never buy) them in line at the grocery store and I became aware that Ben Affleck, Janet Jackson and Cindy Crawford visit the colonic center. So it might be time for colonic naysayers to consider the process of laying down, having a disposable speculum gently inserted into their back door and having a warm watered filtered cleaning. Bonus that a trained practitioner(presumably a large-ish Ukrainian woman) will be massaging your stomach to maximize the release of stored up waste.
Still not convinced? Let's keep it simple y'all. Come on. Celebrities do it. And you know who are awesome? Celebrities. And unicorns.
I generally pride myself on being better than writing about those dark lowbrow dimensions of bathroom humor. Today(in the spirit of honesty and shame), I am not better than that.
You know when you wake up in the morning, roll over and ask your significant other, "What's up with colonics?" Happened this morning.
Warning: If you tend to fend away from (fecal) matters that are in no way related to sophistication and aren't comfortable with the process of dried up shi-at being removed from one's colon, stop reading now. Find blogs with safe topics. Like animated blue jays.
According to legitimate sources, a colonic is an internal cleansing of the colon using a gentle and safe infusion of filtered water to remove toxic build-up.
Urban dictionary, the interweb's darling of passages describing the meaning of terms in a raw-like fashion reveals that a colonic is(seriously, step away from the screen if you can't handle the exaggeration of potty humor) the burning, uncontrollable flow of ass water and acidic shit that exits your colon while burning your asshole (aka: ass piss). A mixture of this ("ass piss") and bowl water may also back splash onto your cheeks...this usually depends on the force of the colonic and consistency of the("ass piss".)
Don't judge me. I dared to leap out of my comfort zone by tapping into colon irrigation. I won't judge you. If you're constipated.
THEY say that the benefits of a colonic include an increased sense of well-being and renewed vitality, illness prevention and improved digestion. THEY also tell us that the procedure is a hyped up myth that removes that "good" bacteria. I generally feel that one should never question the wisdom and findings of THEY...but this leaves me(and my colon) perplexed.
THEY did leave me hanging...but the next best source, tabloid magazines, did not. I peruse (but never buy) them in line at the grocery store and I became aware that Ben Affleck, Janet Jackson and Cindy Crawford visit the colonic center. So it might be time for colonic naysayers to consider the process of laying down, having a disposable speculum gently inserted into their back door and having a warm watered filtered cleaning. Bonus that a trained practitioner(presumably a large-ish Ukrainian woman) will be massaging your stomach to maximize the release of stored up waste.
Still not convinced? Let's keep it simple y'all. Come on. Celebrities do it. And you know who are awesome? Celebrities. And unicorns.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Day 323 - Low Sperm Count On Public Transportation
June 27th, 2010
Today's blog is being conceptualized on a bus as I return to New York from East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania where I was teaching my "Humor For Health" comedy improv workshop at Deerfield Spa and Resort. Go there. You will be pampered and loved. I mean, If you're into that thing.
I'm riding a Greyhound-esque bus line called Martz Trailways. I think you'll find their mission statement soothing:
"It is the mission of the Martz Group to provide safe, reliable, courteous transportation service at an affordable price."
I'd like to give a shout out to the noblest of heroes in the world of transporting passengers from one(in desperate need of renovation) bus station to the next. The bus driver. The forgotten heroes in this world where lauded careers start at fireman and end at 7-Eleven cashier.
It's time for these self-sacrificing transporters(who drop off AND...get this.. PICK UP passengers in a large long bodied vehicle) to have sexy adjectives attached to their service: Noble...illustrious warriors... legendary figures of divine descent endowed with great strength and ability.
A large portion of my intense interest in these captains of heavy machinery is that I am quite cognizant that I have notable strengths... and being a bus driver would not be one of them.
And...here's why:
- I'm certain that a short sleeve button down, tie and name tag would not be figure flattering.
- I'm social. Very social. And prone to distraction. I'd want to shoot the shi-at with my passengers and rely on my inflatable autopilot to take the wheel to stay the course.
- I'd see a male and female passenger sitting next to each other. They're strangers. I'd touch both of their heads and say, "Even though you've made that unspoken pact that you have little to no interest in having an inane conversation...I feel a connection between you two. Grab a latte when we arrive in Bumblefuck.Go to a cheap motel(with hourly rates.) Then return to your spouses."
- When an inconsiderate passenger has an obnoxiously audible cell phone conversation, I would grab the phone, throw it out the window and run down the aisle with my hands out expecting to be high-fived by the other passengers. They'd leave me hanging.
- I'd conduct the passengers in singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". In a round.
The left side sings: Ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh, ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh...
While the right side belts: In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight...
- I'd let intuition be my guide as I'd stroll down the aisle and point to the men that I suspect have a low sperm count.
- I'd ask people to raise their hands if they're a white supremacist.
- I'd take a urine sample from everyone, pull over to the side of the highway and have a lemonade stand.
Today's blog is being conceptualized on a bus as I return to New York from East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania where I was teaching my "Humor For Health" comedy improv workshop at Deerfield Spa and Resort. Go there. You will be pampered and loved. I mean, If you're into that thing.
I'm riding a Greyhound-esque bus line called Martz Trailways. I think you'll find their mission statement soothing:
"It is the mission of the Martz Group to provide safe, reliable, courteous transportation service at an affordable price."
I'd like to give a shout out to the noblest of heroes in the world of transporting passengers from one(in desperate need of renovation) bus station to the next. The bus driver. The forgotten heroes in this world where lauded careers start at fireman and end at 7-Eleven cashier.
It's time for these self-sacrificing transporters(who drop off AND...get this.. PICK UP passengers in a large long bodied vehicle) to have sexy adjectives attached to their service: Noble...illustrious warriors... legendary figures of divine descent endowed with great strength and ability.
A large portion of my intense interest in these captains of heavy machinery is that I am quite cognizant that I have notable strengths... and being a bus driver would not be one of them.
And...here's why:
- I'm certain that a short sleeve button down, tie and name tag would not be figure flattering.
- I'm social. Very social. And prone to distraction. I'd want to shoot the shi-at with my passengers and rely on my inflatable autopilot to take the wheel to stay the course.
- I'd see a male and female passenger sitting next to each other. They're strangers. I'd touch both of their heads and say, "Even though you've made that unspoken pact that you have little to no interest in having an inane conversation...I feel a connection between you two. Grab a latte when we arrive in Bumblefuck.Go to a cheap motel(with hourly rates.) Then return to your spouses."
- When an inconsiderate passenger has an obnoxiously audible cell phone conversation, I would grab the phone, throw it out the window and run down the aisle with my hands out expecting to be high-fived by the other passengers. They'd leave me hanging.
- I'd conduct the passengers in singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". In a round.
The left side sings: Ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh, ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh, wemoweh...
While the right side belts: In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight...
- I'd let intuition be my guide as I'd stroll down the aisle and point to the men that I suspect have a low sperm count.
- I'd ask people to raise their hands if they're a white supremacist.
- I'd take a urine sample from everyone, pull over to the side of the highway and have a lemonade stand.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Day 322 - Trust me, I Have a URL
June 26th, 2010
I'm not proud to admit that my website, www.jacquelinekabat.com, hasn't been updated in over a year. I bartered with a former student of mine. He created my site and I provided him free improv classes. Over the last four years, he's been kind enough to make updates for me... but alas... he simply doesn't have the time(or interest) any longer(something about him having a life...and a wife.) Understood.
I'm having some angst about my website being revamped-negative for a few reasons:
1) My bio and workshop info needs updating.
2) My pictures could be more current.
3) And it kills me that the following sentence still lingers on my site(in regards to my corporate and "Humor for Health" workshops): "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on fun." I cringe at the literary content of the exaggeration of that lamely executed claim(even if it is true.) Who was writing my copy in 2006? I was? I am ashamed. Hold me. Never let me go.
I'm in the process of brainstorming some changes I'd like to see on my website.
1) My bio will now include that I won the biggest trophy on the Starmount Country Club swim team when I was seven (for having the best attitude), my dreams are in high definition and I'm prone to bladder infections.
2) New pictures for you to look forward to. You'll see photos of me:
- In a unitard ...at a unitard convention.
- With a boa constrictor wrapped around my throat at an Olive Garden in South America.
- Wearing a "smart" gap khaki woman's blazer. A stylish wardrobe staple that's lean, tailored, and above all, flattering. A real classic.
3) On my site, I plan to include the following guarantees:
- You can trust me...because I have a URL.
- Should you decide to take a workshop with me, I promise to memorize your credit card number (along with your mother's maiden name and the 3 numbers on the back.)
-And rest assured y'all.... "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on rubber cement."
I'm not proud to admit that my website, www.jacquelinekabat.com, hasn't been updated in over a year. I bartered with a former student of mine. He created my site and I provided him free improv classes. Over the last four years, he's been kind enough to make updates for me... but alas... he simply doesn't have the time(or interest) any longer(something about him having a life...and a wife.) Understood.
I'm having some angst about my website being revamped-negative for a few reasons:
1) My bio and workshop info needs updating.
2) My pictures could be more current.
3) And it kills me that the following sentence still lingers on my site(in regards to my corporate and "Humor for Health" workshops): "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on fun." I cringe at the literary content of the exaggeration of that lamely executed claim(even if it is true.) Who was writing my copy in 2006? I was? I am ashamed. Hold me. Never let me go.
I'm in the process of brainstorming some changes I'd like to see on my website.
1) My bio will now include that I won the biggest trophy on the Starmount Country Club swim team when I was seven (for having the best attitude), my dreams are in high definition and I'm prone to bladder infections.
2) New pictures for you to look forward to. You'll see photos of me:
- In a unitard ...at a unitard convention.
- With a boa constrictor wrapped around my throat at an Olive Garden in South America.
- Wearing a "smart" gap khaki woman's blazer. A stylish wardrobe staple that's lean, tailored, and above all, flattering. A real classic.
3) On my site, I plan to include the following guarantees:
- You can trust me...because I have a URL.
- Should you decide to take a workshop with me, I promise to memorize your credit card number (along with your mother's maiden name and the 3 numbers on the back.)
-And rest assured y'all.... "I know what it takes to deliver an experience that is low on stress and high on rubber cement."
Friday, June 25, 2010
Day 321 - Nonchalant Observer -Installment #10– Deerfield Spa
June 25th, 2010
Today is my 9th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan. An excursion to Six Flags Great Adventure was our journey on day 284. Most recently, on day 305, we sauntered to where the beach is wide and the sand is soft, Sullivan's Island, South Carolina.
Today I write to you from a Victorian porch at Deerfield Spa, a mountain retreat situated on 12 acres in Pennsylvania's Pocono Mountains. I was asked to teach my comedy improv "Humor for Health" workshop at this resort who's guests come for several days to relax, eat all healthy-like, exercise and get pampered with a variety of spa services. There is a happy ending. No. Not that kind. Perv. The final result for a typical spa-goer is leaving with a peaceful sense of contentment in matters related to mind, body and spirit. My friend Katy is joining me for this weekend of "work" and now, join me if you will, as I segue into what I have nonchalantly observed.
9:19 - The morning started off in Brooklyn and I stood on the corner of Clinton and Degraw(like a street walker with a backpack filled with yoga pants, bikinis and jeer), met my friend Katy and took the subway to Port Authority to catch our bus.
10:02 - We arrived at Port Authority. Imagine living in a beehive, being the pieces shaken up in a Boggle game or living in the psychedelic corners Jim of Carrey's head. Being encapsulated in Port Authority is worse. The maniacal carnival subsided when we headed down to the dungeon to board the Martz bus, a "lesser than" Greyhound that gave me a flashback to a junior high field trip to go see a community theater production of O'Henry's "The Gift of the Magi". The watch...the combs...great love story.
11:13 - During the 1 1/2 bus ride, Katy and I entertained ourselves with the sophisticated reading material that she brought along: "The New York Post"("The Onion"...without the humor) and an "Us Weekly" (looks like Megan Fox has had some plastic surgery. I also hear that she has some deformed mangled thumb. At least she seems nice. Oh, she's not? My bad.)
11:45 - We got off at our bus stop in Random, Small Town Pennsylvania. During the 10 minute cab ride to the spa, I saw 3 baby ponies. BABY PONIES! If that does not touch you in the heart area....you are dead inside. Still feel nothing? Come on...it's not like I said, "I saw 3 baby ponies...and they were delicious."
12:34 - We arrive at Deerfield and are graciously greeted by the peppy owner and filled out our paperwork. For "emergency contact", we were tempted to put our neighborhood friend, Paul Hale. He's the very much loved and reliable nucleus of our friends in Brooklyn( and would most likely play Bosley in "Charlie''s Angels".) I am absolutely confident that Paul would be here in an instant if Katy and I were to get into a freak Swedish massage accident.
1:11 - We go to the dining hall for a late lunch. My side salad had flair, a rose petal.
2:01 - Most of the guests here are women but there are some males on staff who are delightful to look at. I have a boyfriend...but for Katy's sake....I hope they are naughty pool boys.
2:30 - Water Aerobics. In a bikini. Not recommended.
3:18 - The spa does not serve alcohol and only offers coffee in the morning. As I'm laying by the pool, I see a sprightly young woman drinking an ice coffee. she brought a coffee maker and was dealing the hard stuff from her room. We made an exchange.
4:45 - I started writing my blog on a rocking chair on the porch. If there was a banjo within arms reach, I would have played it and challenged a stranger about to get reflexology to a duel.
6:32 - For dinner, I ate orange roughy and thought back to a nice guy I dated my freshman year in high school, Ruffie. In driver's ed, my friend handed me a cut out of a fish. In a condom. This was the same person who had passed me a note a few years earlier, in 7th grade, with the claw from the crawfish that she had dissected that day. Bless her heart.
8:45 - I taught a comedy improv workshop to an incredibly open minded, spirited and kind group of people. I love what I do. I do what I love. I can't believe I get paid for this shit.
Today is my 9th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan. An excursion to Six Flags Great Adventure was our journey on day 284. Most recently, on day 305, we sauntered to where the beach is wide and the sand is soft, Sullivan's Island, South Carolina.
Today I write to you from a Victorian porch at Deerfield Spa, a mountain retreat situated on 12 acres in Pennsylvania's Pocono Mountains. I was asked to teach my comedy improv "Humor for Health" workshop at this resort who's guests come for several days to relax, eat all healthy-like, exercise and get pampered with a variety of spa services. There is a happy ending. No. Not that kind. Perv. The final result for a typical spa-goer is leaving with a peaceful sense of contentment in matters related to mind, body and spirit. My friend Katy is joining me for this weekend of "work" and now, join me if you will, as I segue into what I have nonchalantly observed.
9:19 - The morning started off in Brooklyn and I stood on the corner of Clinton and Degraw(like a street walker with a backpack filled with yoga pants, bikinis and jeer), met my friend Katy and took the subway to Port Authority to catch our bus.
10:02 - We arrived at Port Authority. Imagine living in a beehive, being the pieces shaken up in a Boggle game or living in the psychedelic corners Jim of Carrey's head. Being encapsulated in Port Authority is worse. The maniacal carnival subsided when we headed down to the dungeon to board the Martz bus, a "lesser than" Greyhound that gave me a flashback to a junior high field trip to go see a community theater production of O'Henry's "The Gift of the Magi". The watch...the combs...great love story.
11:13 - During the 1 1/2 bus ride, Katy and I entertained ourselves with the sophisticated reading material that she brought along: "The New York Post"("The Onion"...without the humor) and an "Us Weekly" (looks like Megan Fox has had some plastic surgery. I also hear that she has some deformed mangled thumb. At least she seems nice. Oh, she's not? My bad.)
11:45 - We got off at our bus stop in Random, Small Town Pennsylvania. During the 10 minute cab ride to the spa, I saw 3 baby ponies. BABY PONIES! If that does not touch you in the heart area....you are dead inside. Still feel nothing? Come on...it's not like I said, "I saw 3 baby ponies...and they were delicious."
12:34 - We arrive at Deerfield and are graciously greeted by the peppy owner and filled out our paperwork. For "emergency contact", we were tempted to put our neighborhood friend, Paul Hale. He's the very much loved and reliable nucleus of our friends in Brooklyn( and would most likely play Bosley in "Charlie''s Angels".) I am absolutely confident that Paul would be here in an instant if Katy and I were to get into a freak Swedish massage accident.
1:11 - We go to the dining hall for a late lunch. My side salad had flair, a rose petal.
2:01 - Most of the guests here are women but there are some males on staff who are delightful to look at. I have a boyfriend...but for Katy's sake....I hope they are naughty pool boys.
2:30 - Water Aerobics. In a bikini. Not recommended.
3:18 - The spa does not serve alcohol and only offers coffee in the morning. As I'm laying by the pool, I see a sprightly young woman drinking an ice coffee. she brought a coffee maker and was dealing the hard stuff from her room. We made an exchange.
4:45 - I started writing my blog on a rocking chair on the porch. If there was a banjo within arms reach, I would have played it and challenged a stranger about to get reflexology to a duel.
6:32 - For dinner, I ate orange roughy and thought back to a nice guy I dated my freshman year in high school, Ruffie. In driver's ed, my friend handed me a cut out of a fish. In a condom. This was the same person who had passed me a note a few years earlier, in 7th grade, with the claw from the crawfish that she had dissected that day. Bless her heart.
8:45 - I taught a comedy improv workshop to an incredibly open minded, spirited and kind group of people. I love what I do. I do what I love. I can't believe I get paid for this shit.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day 320 - Ritalin + Nasal Passages
Day 320 - Ritalin + Nasal Passages
June 24th, 2010
For my entries on day 292 and day 303("Be the Man Your Mom Is" and "Turducken Killed the Meat Making Star"), I perused my virtual network's Facebook status updates and mentioned the ones that reached me the most in the heart area. I declare today, day 320 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, part three of dissecting the updates that I found most inspiring. Touching. Perplexing.
Today's picks:
Facebook Update: Margarita's make me smile. :) <-----see (that's me)
Jax's Thoughts: Margarita's make me smile too. Emoticons...not so much. If a smiley emoticon and a frowning emoticon were to breed...I assume the result would be a neutral expression. That's the best I got. Emoticons are dicks.
Facebook Update - I should probably be on Ritalin.
Jax's Thoughts: I've only had one run in with this psycho-stimulant drug. College. Senior year. For a radio production class, we had a group assignment to produce a radio show based on a fairy tale of our choice. We brainstormed this assignment in my apartment and a classmate (with an uncanny resemblance to the lovechild of Ichabod Crane and Mr. Burns) suggested that we do a line of Ritalin. While he was crushing the white tablet for snorting capabilities, I convinced myself to participate by telling myself, "Succumbing to peer pressure really is just a special way of letting enablers know that you appreciate their willingness to assist your life going in a downward spiral." Although this incident was isolated, it did inspire a final result that I recall fondly: "Little Red. Rider in The Hood". Our modern day creation involved Little Red acting as a drug liaison between mom and grandma. Then I vacuumed for three hours.
Facebook Update: Happy Gay Pride!
Jax's Thoughts: And a Happy Straight Shame!
Facebook Update: Ah ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAY GERMANY!!!!!!!
Jax's Thoughts: OK to say at the World Cup in 2010. Not well received when screamed in Europe in 1945.
Facebook Update: I am disgusted and appalled at many so called "friends" around me. Apparently, even when facts and stories are untrue, info is not shared by all nor revealed to those of that focus, but used against one to cause rifts. Trust is such a dirty word... And not in my top ten right now.
Jax's Thoughts - I like kittens. Especially Persians.
June 24th, 2010
For my entries on day 292 and day 303("Be the Man Your Mom Is" and "Turducken Killed the Meat Making Star"), I perused my virtual network's Facebook status updates and mentioned the ones that reached me the most in the heart area. I declare today, day 320 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, part three of dissecting the updates that I found most inspiring. Touching. Perplexing.
Today's picks:
Facebook Update: Margarita's make me smile. :) <-----see (that's me)
Jax's Thoughts: Margarita's make me smile too. Emoticons...not so much. If a smiley emoticon and a frowning emoticon were to breed...I assume the result would be a neutral expression. That's the best I got. Emoticons are dicks.
Facebook Update - I should probably be on Ritalin.
Jax's Thoughts: I've only had one run in with this psycho-stimulant drug. College. Senior year. For a radio production class, we had a group assignment to produce a radio show based on a fairy tale of our choice. We brainstormed this assignment in my apartment and a classmate (with an uncanny resemblance to the lovechild of Ichabod Crane and Mr. Burns) suggested that we do a line of Ritalin. While he was crushing the white tablet for snorting capabilities, I convinced myself to participate by telling myself, "Succumbing to peer pressure really is just a special way of letting enablers know that you appreciate their willingness to assist your life going in a downward spiral." Although this incident was isolated, it did inspire a final result that I recall fondly: "Little Red. Rider in The Hood". Our modern day creation involved Little Red acting as a drug liaison between mom and grandma. Then I vacuumed for three hours.
Facebook Update: Happy Gay Pride!
Jax's Thoughts: And a Happy Straight Shame!
Facebook Update: Ah ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAY GERMANY!!!!!!!
Jax's Thoughts: OK to say at the World Cup in 2010. Not well received when screamed in Europe in 1945.
Facebook Update: I am disgusted and appalled at many so called "friends" around me. Apparently, even when facts and stories are untrue, info is not shared by all nor revealed to those of that focus, but used against one to cause rifts. Trust is such a dirty word... And not in my top ten right now.
Jax's Thoughts - I like kittens. Especially Persians.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Day 319 - So It Turns Out...We're All Pervs
June 23rd, 2010
A few years ago a nutritionist gave me the following instructions for roasting kale:
- Preheat oven to 415 degrees
- Wash the leaves
- Add a hint of kosher salt and lemon
- While the kale is roasting (for 15-20 minutes)...go masturbate
- Return to kitchen, remove kale and enjoy!
This caught my (short)attention(span) because the act of self love seemed like quite a provocative cooking tip.
(Side note: It turns out roasted kale is remarkably delicious. Tastes like potato chips. You're right...it was an unexpected carnival in my mouth. Oh you.)
So back to sex. Because it always comes back to sex. The attention whore of all attention whores.
I mention this because as my 365 day blog entry challenge seems to be nearing an end, I've been reviewing entries past to see some common threads and themes that I've offered up to the blogasphere and I'm making note of where my readers provided some(well appreciated) responses.
Upon my review, it seems as if my blogs that inspired you to take a moment out of your busy day( being at work or on the phone waiting to speak to a "live" employment representative) were often under a sexual umbrella. Cases in point: Like Michelangelo's fresco on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, you reached out your virtual hand to me(via Facebook and Blogspot comments) when I told you what is required to see my boobs, when we explored the phenomena of penis panic and when we met the STD's at a dive bar called The Itch. Blue Oyster Cult’s “Burnin' for You” was playing.
Below are some sexed up blogs from the past year that have made me as the writer and you as the reader feel. Things. MPQs included (Memorable Perv Quotes)
Day 5- Unintentional Cleavage
http://www.blogger.com/posts.g?blogID=6794862226216156952&searchType=ALL&page=1
MPQ - "Tits are Powerful."
Day 12 - Wax-achment
http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6794862226216156952&postID=7472651505787185747
MPQ - "Like choosing a love making partner, we have a type. Plain and simple.I personally prefer the waxing stylings of the Russians to that of the Asians. One of them has hair and the other doesn’t. Know your customer. It’s why I go to a woman gynecologist."
Day 35 - Penis
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/09/day-35-penis.html
MPQ - "God DAMN! I LOVE HAVING A PENIS!!!
Day 60 - "Makin' Whoopee!"
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/10/day-60-makin-whoopee.html
MPQ - "Host Bob Eubanks: Where was the strangest place you've ever made whoopee?
Very Candid Male Contestant: That'd be the butt, Bob."
Day 70 - 69
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/10/day-70-69.html
MPQ - "Words or phrases that Jax’s blog readers think sound dirty..but are not: "Fallacious, ramrod, angina, May I push your stool in for you? Lick my Man Bag, camel toe, mukluk, ball-peen hammer, Doggie Style Grooming Salon, Bangkok, moist, tempus fugits, duty, titmouse, crotchety, ballcock, rectory, kumquat, manhandle, a pair of tickets halfway up the end zone, discharge, bagina, Come Soon( Chinese restaurant in Israel), phucket and Dick Butkus.'"
Day 148 - The Tension of the Sexual
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-148-tension-of-sexual.html
MPQ - " I have a friend who is a chronic masturbator"
Day 203 – Penis Panic
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-203-penis-panic.html
MPQ -"PENIS PANIC - Sufferers become convinced that their genitals are disappearing into their bodies. It can be contagious and “penis panic” swept through Singapore in 1967 and thousands of men became convinced that their penises were being stolen."
Day 217 - Chuck Norris-exual
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-217-chuck-norris-exual.html
MPQ - "Yanniexual – We are most attracted to this pianist, keyboardist and composer. If Yanni were to shave his moustache, our attraction immediately dissipates and we become Tom Selleckexual."
Day 228 - Women. Mud Wrestling. Ziti
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-228-women-mud-wrestling-ziti.html
MPQ - "So anyways. I’d love to have a threesome with you…but I’m not sure if my boyfriend would be into it because no guys fantasize about being with two women."
Day 231 - DILF. The New MILF
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-231-dilf-new-milf.html
MPQ - "Married women who have procreated, WARNING: DILF(Dads I'd Like to Fuck) hunters are living amongst you. Your baby has become the 'in' accessory that is becoming more appealing than your husband's nice ass, unavailability and big…paycheck."
Day 246 – STD Happy Hour
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-246-std-happy-hour.html
MPQ:
Gonorrhea –. Remind me, why can’t Syphilis and Herpes make it?
Chlamydia – Herpes got a gig with Eliot Spitzer and Syphilis went to England to research his ancestry.
Gonorrhea - That’s right! His roots go back to Henry VIII.
Chlamydia – And Christopher Columbus…
Gonorrhea - Syphilis is old school. We’re lucky to know him.
Day 260 – Contraceptives Have Feelings Too
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-260-contraceptives-have-feelings.html
MPQ - Condom – "It’s true. Seniors are fucking like bunnies. I’m there to support them, but they seldom employ me. Their time is limited so contracting an STD is actually appealing. At 95, its way more respected to die of syphilis than heart disease."
Day 271 - Bra Savants
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-271-bra-savants.html
MPQ - "Here's the thing...when purchasing bras, any inkling of modesty goes out the window. I was in no way, shape or form(fitting) bashful that a stranger was rather intimately lifting and separating my boobs. While I was being molested, I became disappointed that her hands were occupied because she earned herself a high five for her strong aptitude for arranging the mystical world of mammary glands."
Day 318 - I'll Show You My Boobs If....
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/06/day-318-ill-show-you-my-boobs-if.html
MPQ: "I'll show you my boobs if you can explain to me why Wolf Blitzer looks like a wolf."
See a common thread?
This we know is true:
- I like writing the(dare I say sexier?) blogs that I mentioned above.
- You like reading them.
- I'm a pervert. My readers are perverts. My nutritionist is a pervert.
So the question arises as to how we approach these remaining 41 day in order for all of us to get the most out of this year. Where to go? What? You think I shouldn't be over thinking and roast some kale? Ohhh...you want to roast my kale?
You're incorrigible. And a perv.
A few years ago a nutritionist gave me the following instructions for roasting kale:
- Preheat oven to 415 degrees
- Wash the leaves
- Add a hint of kosher salt and lemon
- While the kale is roasting (for 15-20 minutes)...go masturbate
- Return to kitchen, remove kale and enjoy!
This caught my (short)attention(span) because the act of self love seemed like quite a provocative cooking tip.
(Side note: It turns out roasted kale is remarkably delicious. Tastes like potato chips. You're right...it was an unexpected carnival in my mouth. Oh you.)
So back to sex. Because it always comes back to sex. The attention whore of all attention whores.
I mention this because as my 365 day blog entry challenge seems to be nearing an end, I've been reviewing entries past to see some common threads and themes that I've offered up to the blogasphere and I'm making note of where my readers provided some(well appreciated) responses.
Upon my review, it seems as if my blogs that inspired you to take a moment out of your busy day( being at work or on the phone waiting to speak to a "live" employment representative) were often under a sexual umbrella. Cases in point: Like Michelangelo's fresco on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, you reached out your virtual hand to me(via Facebook and Blogspot comments) when I told you what is required to see my boobs, when we explored the phenomena of penis panic and when we met the STD's at a dive bar called The Itch. Blue Oyster Cult’s “Burnin' for You” was playing.
Below are some sexed up blogs from the past year that have made me as the writer and you as the reader feel. Things. MPQs included (Memorable Perv Quotes)
Day 5- Unintentional Cleavage
http://www.blogger.com/posts.g?blogID=6794862226216156952&searchType=ALL&page=1
MPQ - "Tits are Powerful."
Day 12 - Wax-achment
http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6794862226216156952&postID=7472651505787185747
MPQ - "Like choosing a love making partner, we have a type. Plain and simple.I personally prefer the waxing stylings of the Russians to that of the Asians. One of them has hair and the other doesn’t. Know your customer. It’s why I go to a woman gynecologist."
Day 35 - Penis
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/09/day-35-penis.html
MPQ - "God DAMN! I LOVE HAVING A PENIS!!!
Day 60 - "Makin' Whoopee!"
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/10/day-60-makin-whoopee.html
MPQ - "Host Bob Eubanks: Where was the strangest place you've ever made whoopee?
Very Candid Male Contestant: That'd be the butt, Bob."
Day 70 - 69
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/10/day-70-69.html
MPQ - "Words or phrases that Jax’s blog readers think sound dirty..but are not: "Fallacious, ramrod, angina, May I push your stool in for you? Lick my Man Bag, camel toe, mukluk, ball-peen hammer, Doggie Style Grooming Salon, Bangkok, moist, tempus fugits, duty, titmouse, crotchety, ballcock, rectory, kumquat, manhandle, a pair of tickets halfway up the end zone, discharge, bagina, Come Soon( Chinese restaurant in Israel), phucket and Dick Butkus.'"
Day 148 - The Tension of the Sexual
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-148-tension-of-sexual.html
MPQ - " I have a friend who is a chronic masturbator"
Day 203 – Penis Panic
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-203-penis-panic.html
MPQ -"PENIS PANIC - Sufferers become convinced that their genitals are disappearing into their bodies. It can be contagious and “penis panic” swept through Singapore in 1967 and thousands of men became convinced that their penises were being stolen."
Day 217 - Chuck Norris-exual
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-217-chuck-norris-exual.html
MPQ - "Yanniexual – We are most attracted to this pianist, keyboardist and composer. If Yanni were to shave his moustache, our attraction immediately dissipates and we become Tom Selleckexual."
Day 228 - Women. Mud Wrestling. Ziti
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-228-women-mud-wrestling-ziti.html
MPQ - "So anyways. I’d love to have a threesome with you…but I’m not sure if my boyfriend would be into it because no guys fantasize about being with two women."
Day 231 - DILF. The New MILF
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-231-dilf-new-milf.html
MPQ - "Married women who have procreated, WARNING: DILF(Dads I'd Like to Fuck) hunters are living amongst you. Your baby has become the 'in' accessory that is becoming more appealing than your husband's nice ass, unavailability and big…paycheck."
Day 246 – STD Happy Hour
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-246-std-happy-hour.html
MPQ:
Gonorrhea –. Remind me, why can’t Syphilis and Herpes make it?
Chlamydia – Herpes got a gig with Eliot Spitzer and Syphilis went to England to research his ancestry.
Gonorrhea - That’s right! His roots go back to Henry VIII.
Chlamydia – And Christopher Columbus…
Gonorrhea - Syphilis is old school. We’re lucky to know him.
Day 260 – Contraceptives Have Feelings Too
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-260-contraceptives-have-feelings.html
MPQ - Condom – "It’s true. Seniors are fucking like bunnies. I’m there to support them, but they seldom employ me. Their time is limited so contracting an STD is actually appealing. At 95, its way more respected to die of syphilis than heart disease."
Day 271 - Bra Savants
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-271-bra-savants.html
MPQ - "Here's the thing...when purchasing bras, any inkling of modesty goes out the window. I was in no way, shape or form(fitting) bashful that a stranger was rather intimately lifting and separating my boobs. While I was being molested, I became disappointed that her hands were occupied because she earned herself a high five for her strong aptitude for arranging the mystical world of mammary glands."
Day 318 - I'll Show You My Boobs If....
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/06/day-318-ill-show-you-my-boobs-if.html
MPQ: "I'll show you my boobs if you can explain to me why Wolf Blitzer looks like a wolf."
See a common thread?
This we know is true:
- I like writing the(dare I say sexier?) blogs that I mentioned above.
- You like reading them.
- I'm a pervert. My readers are perverts. My nutritionist is a pervert.
So the question arises as to how we approach these remaining 41 day in order for all of us to get the most out of this year. Where to go? What? You think I shouldn't be over thinking and roast some kale? Ohhh...you want to roast my kale?
You're incorrigible. And a perv.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Day 318 - I'll Show You My Boobs If....
June 22nd, 2010
Yesterday I asked a random man to reattach my bike chain. He responded to my damsel in distress conundrum and it renewed my faith in the giving nature of humanity and the significance of wearing short shorts and no bra.
Oh men and your predicable weakness for female parts.
I asked my friend Erik if he was a leg man, breast man or ass man. Without missing a beat, he responds with(in his endearingly gruff Long Island accent), "I'm a vagina man."
A flash back. If you will. Let's revisit a few quotes from the infancy stage of my blog on Day 5, "Unintentional Cleavage"(http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-5-unintentional-cleavage.html).
"I realized that a little subtle cleave made my life start working for me rather than against me. I got a free coffee, a guy gave me his seat on the subway and my neighborhood scaffolding guy asked for my phone number because I looked “smart.”
"I’m always up for a little self esteem booster. And of course winter will come and I will have to pay for coffee again. But for now my "sexy enough" tanks stays on... in the name of social experimentation."
"Tits are powerful"
I'm cognizant that there will be a time when my ladies will not attract the attention of testosterone driven men. But you know who's willing to take advantage of what seems to be making my life easier? This one.
So here's the lowdown. I'll show you my boobs if...
- You finance my business endeavor: Baby Doo Rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs.
- You can explain to me why Wolf Blitzer looks like a wolf.
- You can make Kanye West go away. This means you would have to "know people".
- You show me the faces of the obese people on the news(in the stock footage) that only are shown from the waste down.
- You finagle a way for me to play on monkey bars. With terrorists.
- You get me tickets for a Zamfir concert. He is...the master...of the pan flute.
- You can eliminate nonsensical subway changes on the weekends.
- You take the pictures of the Russian hookers on Myspace. They tend to take their own (close up pouty lipped) photographs. This implicates that they have no friends. This makes me sad.
- You buy me a pony.
- You're able to coordinate a meeting for me with Jesus, Moses and/or Dr. Phil. I have some questions.
Care to step up to the plate for a boob viewing? I'm counting on you. My boobs are counting on you.
* This blog has not been approved by my parents, my boyfriend or my ethics.
Yesterday I asked a random man to reattach my bike chain. He responded to my damsel in distress conundrum and it renewed my faith in the giving nature of humanity and the significance of wearing short shorts and no bra.
Oh men and your predicable weakness for female parts.
I asked my friend Erik if he was a leg man, breast man or ass man. Without missing a beat, he responds with(in his endearingly gruff Long Island accent), "I'm a vagina man."
A flash back. If you will. Let's revisit a few quotes from the infancy stage of my blog on Day 5, "Unintentional Cleavage"(http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-5-unintentional-cleavage.html).
"I realized that a little subtle cleave made my life start working for me rather than against me. I got a free coffee, a guy gave me his seat on the subway and my neighborhood scaffolding guy asked for my phone number because I looked “smart.”
"I’m always up for a little self esteem booster. And of course winter will come and I will have to pay for coffee again. But for now my "sexy enough" tanks stays on... in the name of social experimentation."
"Tits are powerful"
I'm cognizant that there will be a time when my ladies will not attract the attention of testosterone driven men. But you know who's willing to take advantage of what seems to be making my life easier? This one.
So here's the lowdown. I'll show you my boobs if...
- You finance my business endeavor: Baby Doo Rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs.
- You can explain to me why Wolf Blitzer looks like a wolf.
- You can make Kanye West go away. This means you would have to "know people".
- You show me the faces of the obese people on the news(in the stock footage) that only are shown from the waste down.
- You finagle a way for me to play on monkey bars. With terrorists.
- You get me tickets for a Zamfir concert. He is...the master...of the pan flute.
- You can eliminate nonsensical subway changes on the weekends.
- You take the pictures of the Russian hookers on Myspace. They tend to take their own (close up pouty lipped) photographs. This implicates that they have no friends. This makes me sad.
- You buy me a pony.
- You're able to coordinate a meeting for me with Jesus, Moses and/or Dr. Phil. I have some questions.
Care to step up to the plate for a boob viewing? I'm counting on you. My boobs are counting on you.
* This blog has not been approved by my parents, my boyfriend or my ethics.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Day 317 - Ask Jax - Part 18
June 21st, 2010
This is the 18th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
If British singers can sing without a British accent, why can't they TALK without a British accent? Claudia Mizrahi - Brooklyn, New York
Jax's Answer: Your inquiry stumped my (limited) wisdom so I went directly to a credible source...English singer-songwriter, Elton John. We met for high tea and he insisted that he'd only speak to me if I wore his duck suit. I did. Not flattering. In the hip area. As he dipped his crumpet into Earl Grey( FYI, crumpet is code for a body part and we were joined by his special friend, Early Grey), he revealed, "If Madonna took our accent, we're going to take her singing voice. Please note that we're not interested in her passion for Kabbalah, freakishly muscular arms and STD's. Oh yeah. Her teeth...we'd like those too. Impressive dental work...not our strength."
What is going on in Trueblood? I am confused - Ruth Kabat Thomas - New York, New York
Jax's answer: Does it really matter? They're still hot. And getting naked. Come on Ruth.
Why don't you have your own TV show or column when there are so many untalented hacks out there that do? - Lance Hoffman, Forrest Hills, New York
Jax's answer: 3 possibilities:
- My subconscious fear of success
- My fear of zombies
- My fear of the success of zombies
Why are cats such assholes? Susanna Hegner, New York, New York
You'd be an asshole too if you were subject to a traumatic humiliating demotion. Imagine living in ancient Egypt and being considered an esteemed, aristocratic and sacred mammal. Cut to current day where you're eating second rate generic Tender Viddles, being "entertained" by yarn and cleaning your ass with your tongue. The only relief you get is when your feline dealer gets you the nip. According to the cat blogs(and adding insult to injury), it seems as if there is a group of skin head canines that want to wipe out the entire feline race. The first step in this genocide is weeding them out by breeding them with poodles One word: Pussydoodle.
This is the 18th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
If British singers can sing without a British accent, why can't they TALK without a British accent? Claudia Mizrahi - Brooklyn, New York
Jax's Answer: Your inquiry stumped my (limited) wisdom so I went directly to a credible source...English singer-songwriter, Elton John. We met for high tea and he insisted that he'd only speak to me if I wore his duck suit. I did. Not flattering. In the hip area. As he dipped his crumpet into Earl Grey( FYI, crumpet is code for a body part and we were joined by his special friend, Early Grey), he revealed, "If Madonna took our accent, we're going to take her singing voice. Please note that we're not interested in her passion for Kabbalah, freakishly muscular arms and STD's. Oh yeah. Her teeth...we'd like those too. Impressive dental work...not our strength."
What is going on in Trueblood? I am confused - Ruth Kabat Thomas - New York, New York
Jax's answer: Does it really matter? They're still hot. And getting naked. Come on Ruth.
Why don't you have your own TV show or column when there are so many untalented hacks out there that do? - Lance Hoffman, Forrest Hills, New York
Jax's answer: 3 possibilities:
- My subconscious fear of success
- My fear of zombies
- My fear of the success of zombies
Why are cats such assholes? Susanna Hegner, New York, New York
You'd be an asshole too if you were subject to a traumatic humiliating demotion. Imagine living in ancient Egypt and being considered an esteemed, aristocratic and sacred mammal. Cut to current day where you're eating second rate generic Tender Viddles, being "entertained" by yarn and cleaning your ass with your tongue. The only relief you get is when your feline dealer gets you the nip. According to the cat blogs(and adding insult to injury), it seems as if there is a group of skin head canines that want to wipe out the entire feline race. The first step in this genocide is weeding them out by breeding them with poodles One word: Pussydoodle.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Day 316 - Cry Me a Joan Rivers
June 20th, 2010
Last night I saw a "A Piece of Work", a documentary on the life and career of Joan Rivers. Regardless of one's interpretation and experience of this brash, loud and surgical disaster of a comedienne, it can't be refuted that she's an icon fighting to keep her career alive in a business driven by youth and beauty. Very few people can make a 9/11 joke land. She did...and going "there" is the crème de la crème of taboo in the comedy world. Closely followed by jokes about rape and premises that start with, "You have a Priest and a Rabbi..."
The film reminds the naysayers(and the sayers) that this 76 year old workhorse is a smart businesswoman, a survivor of heartbreaking tragedy(her husband, Edgar Rosenberg, committed suicide in 1994) and humanely vulnerable(as an 8th layer of foundation was being applied) Rivers admits "No man ever told me I was beautiful.") That doesn't make you feel heavyhearted? Do you hate puppies too? I thought so.
I'm cognizant that people are committed to disliking her...but I'm a softy and find her to be a remarkable talent.
The film makes it clear that Rivers got paid to be the recipient of the ego deflating, outlandish and mean spirited remarks from her colleagues in last year's Comedy Central roast. Indeed, she has made a career out of stripping the honor of her celebrity peers, but my PMS steered my emotions to that place that makes me feel sad in the heart area .
I bypassed that mask of a face and saw a hint of pain in her eyes as she endured the following:
Kathy Griffin: When Joan was born, the doctors took a look at her and said, "Holy shit, we're gonna make a fortune on this one!" Then they got on the Mayflower and set sail for America.
Brad Garrett: Joan's face has been on more red carpets than an Irish lesbian!
Whitney Cummings: Joan, I loved you in The Wrestler. Man, look at Joan; I always wanted to know what Ivana Trump would like if she was dating Chris Brown.
Right when I wanted to put an abrupt end to the brutal madness, the universe was in order again as Joan's rebuttal reminded the comic attackers( 1/3rd her age) that she is the legend that inspired their brash style of comedy that gave them careers. Oh what a tangled web we weave. She tells Tom Arnold, "You were in Betty Ford more times than Gerald was."
I know it's seen as a great honor to be roasted, but I'd rather stick with my original plan...telling myself negative things about myself.
So Joan, I will salute you... until you decide to attack me personally. I'm too insecure to even attend one of these Comedy Central events. This was decided at Jerry Stiller's roast when comedian Jeff Ross surveys the audience and announces, "I wouldn't fuck Sandra Bernhardt with Bea Arthur's dick."
I'm a sensitive flower.
Last night I saw a "A Piece of Work", a documentary on the life and career of Joan Rivers. Regardless of one's interpretation and experience of this brash, loud and surgical disaster of a comedienne, it can't be refuted that she's an icon fighting to keep her career alive in a business driven by youth and beauty. Very few people can make a 9/11 joke land. She did...and going "there" is the crème de la crème of taboo in the comedy world. Closely followed by jokes about rape and premises that start with, "You have a Priest and a Rabbi..."
The film reminds the naysayers(and the sayers) that this 76 year old workhorse is a smart businesswoman, a survivor of heartbreaking tragedy(her husband, Edgar Rosenberg, committed suicide in 1994) and humanely vulnerable(as an 8th layer of foundation was being applied) Rivers admits "No man ever told me I was beautiful.") That doesn't make you feel heavyhearted? Do you hate puppies too? I thought so.
I'm cognizant that people are committed to disliking her...but I'm a softy and find her to be a remarkable talent.
The film makes it clear that Rivers got paid to be the recipient of the ego deflating, outlandish and mean spirited remarks from her colleagues in last year's Comedy Central roast. Indeed, she has made a career out of stripping the honor of her celebrity peers, but my PMS steered my emotions to that place that makes me feel sad in the heart area .
I bypassed that mask of a face and saw a hint of pain in her eyes as she endured the following:
Kathy Griffin: When Joan was born, the doctors took a look at her and said, "Holy shit, we're gonna make a fortune on this one!" Then they got on the Mayflower and set sail for America.
Brad Garrett: Joan's face has been on more red carpets than an Irish lesbian!
Whitney Cummings: Joan, I loved you in The Wrestler. Man, look at Joan; I always wanted to know what Ivana Trump would like if she was dating Chris Brown.
Right when I wanted to put an abrupt end to the brutal madness, the universe was in order again as Joan's rebuttal reminded the comic attackers( 1/3rd her age) that she is the legend that inspired their brash style of comedy that gave them careers. Oh what a tangled web we weave. She tells Tom Arnold, "You were in Betty Ford more times than Gerald was."
I know it's seen as a great honor to be roasted, but I'd rather stick with my original plan...telling myself negative things about myself.
So Joan, I will salute you... until you decide to attack me personally. I'm too insecure to even attend one of these Comedy Central events. This was decided at Jerry Stiller's roast when comedian Jeff Ross surveys the audience and announces, "I wouldn't fuck Sandra Bernhardt with Bea Arthur's dick."
I'm a sensitive flower.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Day 315: American Girl. A Prepubescent Cult
June 19th, 2010
I had heard about it. But today I lived it. Hard. I joined my cousin and her two little girls visiting from North Carolina at the American Girl Store in Manhattan(equipped with a doll diner and doll hair salon.) The manic enthusiasm that encompasses a child upon entering this mystical heaven of dolls, books and accessories based on pre-teen girl characters makes the teenage reaction to the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show seem mild.
My little cousins weren't forthcoming when I inquired about the following.
Jax: Lila, why do you love American Girl?
Lila:(Shy giggle) I don't know.
Jax: Joanna, why do you love American Girl?
Joanna: I don't know! (Then she threw her arms in the air. Sassy.)
They weren't going to reveal the mystique so I had to do my own research to make sense of this doll girl love. Stat.
First I met Felicity Merriman, the "red-headed, horse-loving colonial girl in Williamsburg, Virginia, who is caught between Patriot and Loyalist family and friends at the onset of the American Revolution." My thoughts: No powdered wig. Not interested.
I sauntered over to the shelf where Julie Albright resided. She grew up in San Francisco, California during the mid-1970s and almost near the end of the Vietnam War. When I asked her for some LSD, she told me she gave her last dose to a chubby 6 year old having a temper tantrum. Julie was no use to me. Next.
Rebecca Rubin, the nine-year-old Jewish girl doll, was my next stop. She's of Russian descent and lives on the Lower East Side of New York City. Rebecca is fascinated by the film industry and aspires to work in the arts. I felt like Rebecca and I had a lot of similarities and I asked her, "Will you be my American Girl?" She took it quite literally and replied, "Only if you let me wear flannel, cut my hair into a mullet and let me drive a truck." Interesting. I hadn't seen a gay doll since My Buddy. The doll. For boys.
Thrown off by this last encounter, I headed to the information desk, took a deep relaxation breath and read a pamphlet that informed me that there is a line of "Just Like You" dolls. "Each doll has a different combination of face mold; skin tone; eye color; and hair color, length and/or style. American Girl states that this variety allows customers to choose dolls that 'represent the individuality and diversity of today's American girls.'"
My entrepreneurial spirit has kicked in and little girls can expect the Jax Doll to hit shelves in Summer 2011. Yes naysayers, she will be the only figurine that is past puberty(way past puberty)... but rest assured that the Jax Doll will inspire little girls to highlight their hair, choose a career with little to no security and drive home the importance of fiber.
Dirty martinis and attempts at wit sold separately.
I had heard about it. But today I lived it. Hard. I joined my cousin and her two little girls visiting from North Carolina at the American Girl Store in Manhattan(equipped with a doll diner and doll hair salon.) The manic enthusiasm that encompasses a child upon entering this mystical heaven of dolls, books and accessories based on pre-teen girl characters makes the teenage reaction to the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show seem mild.
My little cousins weren't forthcoming when I inquired about the following.
Jax: Lila, why do you love American Girl?
Lila:(Shy giggle) I don't know.
Jax: Joanna, why do you love American Girl?
Joanna: I don't know! (Then she threw her arms in the air. Sassy.)
They weren't going to reveal the mystique so I had to do my own research to make sense of this doll girl love. Stat.
First I met Felicity Merriman, the "red-headed, horse-loving colonial girl in Williamsburg, Virginia, who is caught between Patriot and Loyalist family and friends at the onset of the American Revolution." My thoughts: No powdered wig. Not interested.
I sauntered over to the shelf where Julie Albright resided. She grew up in San Francisco, California during the mid-1970s and almost near the end of the Vietnam War. When I asked her for some LSD, she told me she gave her last dose to a chubby 6 year old having a temper tantrum. Julie was no use to me. Next.
Rebecca Rubin, the nine-year-old Jewish girl doll, was my next stop. She's of Russian descent and lives on the Lower East Side of New York City. Rebecca is fascinated by the film industry and aspires to work in the arts. I felt like Rebecca and I had a lot of similarities and I asked her, "Will you be my American Girl?" She took it quite literally and replied, "Only if you let me wear flannel, cut my hair into a mullet and let me drive a truck." Interesting. I hadn't seen a gay doll since My Buddy. The doll. For boys.
Thrown off by this last encounter, I headed to the information desk, took a deep relaxation breath and read a pamphlet that informed me that there is a line of "Just Like You" dolls. "Each doll has a different combination of face mold; skin tone; eye color; and hair color, length and/or style. American Girl states that this variety allows customers to choose dolls that 'represent the individuality and diversity of today's American girls.'"
My entrepreneurial spirit has kicked in and little girls can expect the Jax Doll to hit shelves in Summer 2011. Yes naysayers, she will be the only figurine that is past puberty(way past puberty)... but rest assured that the Jax Doll will inspire little girls to highlight their hair, choose a career with little to no security and drive home the importance of fiber.
Dirty martinis and attempts at wit sold separately.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Day 314 - Goodbye Delightful White Powder
June 18th, 2010
As of this morning, I've learned that I have a higher than normal sterol, C 27 H 46 O, that occurs in all animal tissues, esp. in the brain, spinal cord, and adipose tissue, functioning chiefly as a protective agent in the skin and myelin sheaths of nerve cells, a detoxifier in the bloodstream. Or if you aren't versed in science jibber jabber....cholesterol.
This came as an unwelcome surprise to me as I've always had award winning cholesterol. In fact, the dialogue would go like so:
Doctor: Jacqueline: Your cholesterol levels are near perfect. Keep up the good work.
Jax: I'm awesome
(Then I try to high five her...and be left hanging.)
I blame my elevated C 27 H 46 O on getting blood work done the day after eating like an obese American(from a Midwestern red state) after devouring savory(yet not doctor recommended) cuisine after a week in South Carolina. The debauchery included a fried cornucopia of fried chicken, fried okra and fried kitten(the last one's a lie..it was a fully grown cat.)
Note to readers: Also, getting weighed after a week in the southern United States can be devastating to the ego.
After I received the news that I would have to return my cholesterol ribbons, trophies and tiaras, I walked down to the East River to reflect on my fall from grace. Or this deep pondering occurred when I was applying a deep penetrating conditioner in the shower. I can't remember. I'm a broken woman.
I've never really understood what cholesterol is exactly and truth be told, I don't want to know much about anyone or anything that wants to destroy me..
Now I have to add the big C to the below growing list of things that I find confusing:
- Nuclear fission vs Nuclear fusion
- Female Viagra
- Dogs in strollers and kids on leashes
- The appeal of "Glee"
- Vitamin Coke
All I am certain of is that my days of snorting salt in night clubs and licking it off icy streets has come to an end.
However, what hurts me in the heart area the most will be when the following dialogue occurs:
You: Jax, wanna come with me to see Salt-N-Pepa, the American hip hop trio from Queens, New York, that came onto the music scene in 1985?
Jax: Nothing would give me more joy, You. But my blood work has just informed me that I can only see Pepa...only...Pepa.
As of this morning, I've learned that I have a higher than normal sterol, C 27 H 46 O, that occurs in all animal tissues, esp. in the brain, spinal cord, and adipose tissue, functioning chiefly as a protective agent in the skin and myelin sheaths of nerve cells, a detoxifier in the bloodstream. Or if you aren't versed in science jibber jabber....cholesterol.
This came as an unwelcome surprise to me as I've always had award winning cholesterol. In fact, the dialogue would go like so:
Doctor: Jacqueline: Your cholesterol levels are near perfect. Keep up the good work.
Jax: I'm awesome
(Then I try to high five her...and be left hanging.)
I blame my elevated C 27 H 46 O on getting blood work done the day after eating like an obese American(from a Midwestern red state) after devouring savory(yet not doctor recommended) cuisine after a week in South Carolina. The debauchery included a fried cornucopia of fried chicken, fried okra and fried kitten(the last one's a lie..it was a fully grown cat.)
Note to readers: Also, getting weighed after a week in the southern United States can be devastating to the ego.
After I received the news that I would have to return my cholesterol ribbons, trophies and tiaras, I walked down to the East River to reflect on my fall from grace. Or this deep pondering occurred when I was applying a deep penetrating conditioner in the shower. I can't remember. I'm a broken woman.
I've never really understood what cholesterol is exactly and truth be told, I don't want to know much about anyone or anything that wants to destroy me..
Now I have to add the big C to the below growing list of things that I find confusing:
- Nuclear fission vs Nuclear fusion
- Female Viagra
- Dogs in strollers and kids on leashes
- The appeal of "Glee"
- Vitamin Coke
All I am certain of is that my days of snorting salt in night clubs and licking it off icy streets has come to an end.
However, what hurts me in the heart area the most will be when the following dialogue occurs:
You: Jax, wanna come with me to see Salt-N-Pepa, the American hip hop trio from Queens, New York, that came onto the music scene in 1985?
Jax: Nothing would give me more joy, You. But my blood work has just informed me that I can only see Pepa...only...Pepa.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Day 313 - The Continued Adventures of Biker Dick. The Rumble
June 17th, 2010
On day 285, in my entry entitled "Biker Dick. And Proud"( http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-285-biker-dick-and-proud.html), I admitted that my new adventures on two wheels has turned me into something that I once fervently disdained, a biker dick.
Here's why:
- I rode facing traffic in order to make eye contact with drivers and shoot them the finger.
- I weaved in and out of the streets to prove that I was agile, flexible and shitfaced.
- I rode into an intersection without obeying a stop sign. I got off my bike, put my arms in the air and yelled to the drivers, "Not only are you hurting the environment, you're hurting Al Gore!"
- I made a point to ride on the sidewalk. Easier to kick the strollers.
- When it got dark, I didn't turn on my high power LED lights.This effectively told pedestrians and motorist that they look better in the dark.
My few weeks on my new mode of transportation(that screams...you know who's a bad ass? I am) has presented me opportunities to observe the subcategories of the paella of Biker Dicks. A sampling:
- Tri-blend V-neck Hipster Biker Dick
- Just Got back from St. Tropez Yuppie Biker Dick
- Has No Problem running Over Kittens Chinese Food Delivery Guy Biker Dick
- Out of Shape but Doesn't Know it Biker Dick
- You're Too Old to be Using Emoticons Texting Biker Dick
All forms of life have been plaguing pedestrians and drivers for quite some time. But what about each other? My (limited) experience tells me that there's an unspoken rivalry amongst theses subdivisions of bikers. Enough of the madness! It's time for it to be addressed...through a choreographed music video Biker Dick Rumble. Think Michael Jackson's "Beat It" video. But with more bikes.
The music video opens with the news of a fight circulating at a bike lane in an urban city. Biker Dicks start arriving on racing bikes, mountain bikes, recumbent bicycles, utility bikes and unicycles. The camera cuts to a scene of me lying on a bed, contemplating the senseless act of bike dickery. I leave the room upon hearing the commotion caused by the rival bikers.
Donning breathable spandex, X Bionic Ultra-Light Biking Socks and an olive branch, I dance/bike my way through the biker lanes towards the fight. Arriving at the scene, where a bike chain fight is taking place between the biker gang leaders, I break up the fight and launch into a dance routine. The video ends with synchronized mass choreography as all the bikers join me in the dance, agreeing that being a biker dick is senseless.
Then we all bike away. And act like dicks.
On day 285, in my entry entitled "Biker Dick. And Proud"( http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-285-biker-dick-and-proud.html), I admitted that my new adventures on two wheels has turned me into something that I once fervently disdained, a biker dick.
Here's why:
- I rode facing traffic in order to make eye contact with drivers and shoot them the finger.
- I weaved in and out of the streets to prove that I was agile, flexible and shitfaced.
- I rode into an intersection without obeying a stop sign. I got off my bike, put my arms in the air and yelled to the drivers, "Not only are you hurting the environment, you're hurting Al Gore!"
- I made a point to ride on the sidewalk. Easier to kick the strollers.
- When it got dark, I didn't turn on my high power LED lights.This effectively told pedestrians and motorist that they look better in the dark.
My few weeks on my new mode of transportation(that screams...you know who's a bad ass? I am) has presented me opportunities to observe the subcategories of the paella of Biker Dicks. A sampling:
- Tri-blend V-neck Hipster Biker Dick
- Just Got back from St. Tropez Yuppie Biker Dick
- Has No Problem running Over Kittens Chinese Food Delivery Guy Biker Dick
- Out of Shape but Doesn't Know it Biker Dick
- You're Too Old to be Using Emoticons Texting Biker Dick
All forms of life have been plaguing pedestrians and drivers for quite some time. But what about each other? My (limited) experience tells me that there's an unspoken rivalry amongst theses subdivisions of bikers. Enough of the madness! It's time for it to be addressed...through a choreographed music video Biker Dick Rumble. Think Michael Jackson's "Beat It" video. But with more bikes.
The music video opens with the news of a fight circulating at a bike lane in an urban city. Biker Dicks start arriving on racing bikes, mountain bikes, recumbent bicycles, utility bikes and unicycles. The camera cuts to a scene of me lying on a bed, contemplating the senseless act of bike dickery. I leave the room upon hearing the commotion caused by the rival bikers.
Donning breathable spandex, X Bionic Ultra-Light Biking Socks and an olive branch, I dance/bike my way through the biker lanes towards the fight. Arriving at the scene, where a bike chain fight is taking place between the biker gang leaders, I break up the fight and launch into a dance routine. The video ends with synchronized mass choreography as all the bikers join me in the dance, agreeing that being a biker dick is senseless.
Then we all bike away. And act like dicks.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Day 312 - Kids, Sharing is Bad
June 16th, 2010
I threw out the following question to you: When I was young my brother's "recorder" was passed down to me...with teeth marks. When else is sharing bad?
Spare a square? Stall to stall communications is frowned upon. - Brian Levy, Dallas, Texas
There was a Dixie cup commercial years back that greatly disturbed me...The mother said "I don't mind my kids sharing a toothbrush...but a cup? That's just unsanitary" - Pete Schwinge, Brooklyn, New York
Needles and profos - Ted Kim, Menlo Park/San Mateo/Purgatory, California
I shared bathes with my brother 'till he sent out a floater. - Clyde Henriques, Brooklyn, New York
Some other scenarios where I must express disapproval and opposition to the act of sharing:
- BP and any body of water should not share space. Even in a bathtub.
- Courtney Love should not share beauty tips.
- Sarah Palin should not share her opinions.
- Sexually promiscuous types should not share their genital warts.
- Joan Rivers should not share her plastic surgeon.
- Oprah should not share a couch with Tom cruise. She will be injured.
- Expectant mothers should not share their sonograms. On Facebook.
- Madonna need not share her British accent.
- Prisoners should not share soap.
All I plead is just use your discretion when you are bombarded with public service announcements that preach, "Sharing is Caring."
Often "Sharing is Overbearing." Unless I do it.
I threw out the following question to you: When I was young my brother's "recorder" was passed down to me...with teeth marks. When else is sharing bad?
Spare a square? Stall to stall communications is frowned upon. - Brian Levy, Dallas, Texas
There was a Dixie cup commercial years back that greatly disturbed me...The mother said "I don't mind my kids sharing a toothbrush...but a cup? That's just unsanitary" - Pete Schwinge, Brooklyn, New York
Needles and profos - Ted Kim, Menlo Park/San Mateo/Purgatory, California
I shared bathes with my brother 'till he sent out a floater. - Clyde Henriques, Brooklyn, New York
Some other scenarios where I must express disapproval and opposition to the act of sharing:
- BP and any body of water should not share space. Even in a bathtub.
- Courtney Love should not share beauty tips.
- Sarah Palin should not share her opinions.
- Sexually promiscuous types should not share their genital warts.
- Joan Rivers should not share her plastic surgeon.
- Oprah should not share a couch with Tom cruise. She will be injured.
- Expectant mothers should not share their sonograms. On Facebook.
- Madonna need not share her British accent.
- Prisoners should not share soap.
All I plead is just use your discretion when you are bombarded with public service announcements that preach, "Sharing is Caring."
Often "Sharing is Overbearing." Unless I do it.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day 311 - Summer, Something is Different About You. Have you Lost Weight?
June 15th, 2010
On day 33 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, summer was coming to an end and I expressed my feelings in a letter to my favorite season in "Summer, Didn't We Almost Have it All?"
Let's revisit my written sentiment of vulnerability, passion and hormones:
Hey Summer. What’s up?
I write to you after the most unfortunate run in with Fall. Against my will the days are getting shorter, my skin is getting lighter and my bikini is now in storage. I know what I have to say might not seem appropriate as you are about to leave for Australia . Yes, I have known Fall just as long as I have known you sweet Summer…but my loyalty to Autumn seized the day he added more shitty sitcoms to the Must See TV line up, took my tan away and made me crave unreasonable amounts of carbs. Moreover, he took punitive action against me for bashing the movie Autumn in New York with Richard Gere and Winona Ryder. I am just a girl who simply can’t hold in her feelings any longer. You make me melt and I am deeply in love with you Summer. I know you have feelings for me too. I see how you cherish giving me a happier disposition and blonder hair. I often dream of us running through a golf course (hand in rays) filled with high-end grills, gladiolus and drinking teenagers. Yes, we come from different worlds. You’re a season and I have a heartbeat. You encourage promiscuous sex and I am more ethical when it comes to that. You’re prone to hurricanes and I have an opposable thumb. Let me say this to you my precious petunia. I have the resources to make Fall disappear. I have befriended Winter and let’s just say he owes me a favor. I have several good years left and you’ll be around indefinitely since Al Gore decided to fix that pesky global warming issue after he invented the internet. All I ask is that you allow me to pick you up and take you into the night and show you a love like you've never seen before.
XOXO
Jax
Just recently, I did receive a handwritten letter(that was scanned and emailed to me) from my season crush, Summer. I shall share it with you.
Dear Jax,
I apologize for the delayed response. As you know, I've been spreading my sunshine down under. I have thought of you often my dearest Jax and it is only fair that I be forthcoming about my life altering shift in consciousness that was the result of a threesome with Nicole Kidman and a Dingo.
I am proud to admit the following:
I - I drink Zima, the finest well liquors and white zinfandel out of a box.
II - Since I now run with the hipsters, I don't shower, tell anyone I have a trust fund and wear an ironic trucker hat.
III - I'm allergic to water.
IV - I only use roman numerals.
V - I tell people that I like the Grateful dead. But the only song I know is "Truckin'".
VI - I've learned that my father was half-Indian summer.
VII - I think OJ Simpson is innocent.
VIII - My new spiritual leader is an alien named Metarid. From the planet Yamnoin.
IX - I don't like gay people. Or homophobics.
X - I play the triangle. With a spork.
I hope that you can accept me as I am now because( as that ambiguously gay duo known as "Air Supply" once said) You're Every Woman in the World To Me.
Love,
New Summer
On day 33 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, summer was coming to an end and I expressed my feelings in a letter to my favorite season in "Summer, Didn't We Almost Have it All?"
Let's revisit my written sentiment of vulnerability, passion and hormones:
Hey Summer. What’s up?
I write to you after the most unfortunate run in with Fall. Against my will the days are getting shorter, my skin is getting lighter and my bikini is now in storage. I know what I have to say might not seem appropriate as you are about to leave for Australia . Yes, I have known Fall just as long as I have known you sweet Summer…but my loyalty to Autumn seized the day he added more shitty sitcoms to the Must See TV line up, took my tan away and made me crave unreasonable amounts of carbs. Moreover, he took punitive action against me for bashing the movie Autumn in New York with Richard Gere and Winona Ryder. I am just a girl who simply can’t hold in her feelings any longer. You make me melt and I am deeply in love with you Summer. I know you have feelings for me too. I see how you cherish giving me a happier disposition and blonder hair. I often dream of us running through a golf course (hand in rays) filled with high-end grills, gladiolus and drinking teenagers. Yes, we come from different worlds. You’re a season and I have a heartbeat. You encourage promiscuous sex and I am more ethical when it comes to that. You’re prone to hurricanes and I have an opposable thumb. Let me say this to you my precious petunia. I have the resources to make Fall disappear. I have befriended Winter and let’s just say he owes me a favor. I have several good years left and you’ll be around indefinitely since Al Gore decided to fix that pesky global warming issue after he invented the internet. All I ask is that you allow me to pick you up and take you into the night and show you a love like you've never seen before.
XOXO
Jax
Just recently, I did receive a handwritten letter(that was scanned and emailed to me) from my season crush, Summer. I shall share it with you.
Dear Jax,
I apologize for the delayed response. As you know, I've been spreading my sunshine down under. I have thought of you often my dearest Jax and it is only fair that I be forthcoming about my life altering shift in consciousness that was the result of a threesome with Nicole Kidman and a Dingo.
I am proud to admit the following:
I - I drink Zima, the finest well liquors and white zinfandel out of a box.
II - Since I now run with the hipsters, I don't shower, tell anyone I have a trust fund and wear an ironic trucker hat.
III - I'm allergic to water.
IV - I only use roman numerals.
V - I tell people that I like the Grateful dead. But the only song I know is "Truckin'".
VI - I've learned that my father was half-Indian summer.
VII - I think OJ Simpson is innocent.
VIII - My new spiritual leader is an alien named Metarid. From the planet Yamnoin.
IX - I don't like gay people. Or homophobics.
X - I play the triangle. With a spork.
I hope that you can accept me as I am now because( as that ambiguously gay duo known as "Air Supply" once said) You're Every Woman in the World To Me.
Love,
New Summer
Monday, June 14, 2010
Day 310 - Ask Jax - Part 17
June 14th, 2010
This is the 17th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
How is life like a bowl of cherries? - Where'd that saying come from? - Nat Sternbergh, Davis, California
Jax's answer - In 1931, Ray Hendersonm, Buddy G. DeSylva and Lew Brown wrote a song called "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries". The lyrics below seem to imply that a bowl full of a pitted small, fleshy fruit indicates that life is carefree, pleasant and solid. Much like a rock.
"Life is just a bowl of cherries;
Don't make it serious;
Life's too mysterious.
You work, you save, you worry so,
But you can't take your dough when you go, go, go.
So keep repeating it's the berries;
The strongest oak must fall.
The sweet things in life
To you were just loaned,
So how can you lose what you've never owned?
Life is just a bowl of cherries"
So live and laugh at it all.
As for me, I find that life is more like a urine sample. It tells me if I'm pregnant, have a urinary tract infection or should go easy on the vitamins( as indicated by an "electric" yellow shade of urine.)
Why can't I have my cake and eat it too? - Roberta Scott, San Francisco, California
Jax's answer: You can Roberta. You can! Your slim physique affords you the luxury of indulging in an an array of delightful sweet baked goodness ( made with flour, sugar and yes, love.) If your inquiry came from someone who could stand to loose a few pounds...my answer would be, "A moment on the lips...an eternity on the hips."
What's the difference between flirting and being friendly? Elva V. Rojas - Houston, Texas
Jax's answer - Ask your genitals the same question when you're in a friendly or flirty conundrum. You'll have your answer.
If your apartment was suddenly "frozen" as it is right now, what would it say about you to archaeologists in the future? - Jarod Kearney, Staunton, Virginia
Jax's answer: Not much because an air conditioner malfunction would prevent the freeze. But if my apartment melted...I would imagine that it would be a mother of pearl colored gooey substance that tasted like marzipan.
This is the 17th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
How is life like a bowl of cherries? - Where'd that saying come from? - Nat Sternbergh, Davis, California
Jax's answer - In 1931, Ray Hendersonm, Buddy G. DeSylva and Lew Brown wrote a song called "Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries". The lyrics below seem to imply that a bowl full of a pitted small, fleshy fruit indicates that life is carefree, pleasant and solid. Much like a rock.
"Life is just a bowl of cherries;
Don't make it serious;
Life's too mysterious.
You work, you save, you worry so,
But you can't take your dough when you go, go, go.
So keep repeating it's the berries;
The strongest oak must fall.
The sweet things in life
To you were just loaned,
So how can you lose what you've never owned?
Life is just a bowl of cherries"
So live and laugh at it all.
As for me, I find that life is more like a urine sample. It tells me if I'm pregnant, have a urinary tract infection or should go easy on the vitamins( as indicated by an "electric" yellow shade of urine.)
Why can't I have my cake and eat it too? - Roberta Scott, San Francisco, California
Jax's answer: You can Roberta. You can! Your slim physique affords you the luxury of indulging in an an array of delightful sweet baked goodness ( made with flour, sugar and yes, love.) If your inquiry came from someone who could stand to loose a few pounds...my answer would be, "A moment on the lips...an eternity on the hips."
What's the difference between flirting and being friendly? Elva V. Rojas - Houston, Texas
Jax's answer - Ask your genitals the same question when you're in a friendly or flirty conundrum. You'll have your answer.
If your apartment was suddenly "frozen" as it is right now, what would it say about you to archaeologists in the future? - Jarod Kearney, Staunton, Virginia
Jax's answer: Not much because an air conditioner malfunction would prevent the freeze. But if my apartment melted...I would imagine that it would be a mother of pearl colored gooey substance that tasted like marzipan.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Day 309 - The Hairy One. Not so Scary
June 13th, 2010
I just learned a new word: Portmanteau, a word concocted by fusing two different words together into one.
Some examples:
Web + Log = Blog
Smoke + Fog = Smog
Jacqueline + Taxi = Jaxi
That's right. I'm a portmanteau! During my sophomore year in college, I came alarmingly close to being hit by a taxi. My friends were inspired to make a linguistic blend and combined Jacqueline and taxi. For several years, I was Jaxi. Shortly after I moved to New York, the Northeasterners took it upon themselves to shorten my nickname. Just how they roll. I've been Jax ever since.
I'm fortunate because I feel confident that my nickname suits me.
A large part of the population, however, that often gets shafted in the nickname arena are serial killers. Who makes up these unimaginative, uninspired and uninventive labels. Oh you don't say? The same person who names hurricanes after strippers. Makes sense.
Anyone who murders in bulk should no longer have the following overused words in their nickname: Ripper, Strangler or Midnight. The (I did not make them up) serial killers below were assigned nicknames that are just belittling to the art of murdering and (I'm ashamed to admit) made me Chortle(chuckle + snort.)
- The Hairy One - Hairy and a serial killer? Life has dealt this guy an unfortunate hand.
- The Shoe-Fetish Slayer - I heard "The Sex in the City" sequel is pretty horrendous. So did this guy.
- The Giggling Granny - This just doesn't scare me because it just sounds too adorable.
- Smelly Bob - Is it lacking in social refinement to not shower before serial killing?
- The Vampire of Dusseldorf - The word "Dusseldorf" makes me giggle.
- Killer from the Shadows - Really? That's the best you do? You're not even trying. Now I kinda want to kill you.
To whomever created these nicknames, your sterile talent just diminishes the fine reputation that a serial killer deserves. Shame on you.
You are a diche.
Douche + Dick
I just learned a new word: Portmanteau, a word concocted by fusing two different words together into one.
Some examples:
Web + Log = Blog
Smoke + Fog = Smog
Jacqueline + Taxi = Jaxi
That's right. I'm a portmanteau! During my sophomore year in college, I came alarmingly close to being hit by a taxi. My friends were inspired to make a linguistic blend and combined Jacqueline and taxi. For several years, I was Jaxi. Shortly after I moved to New York, the Northeasterners took it upon themselves to shorten my nickname. Just how they roll. I've been Jax ever since.
I'm fortunate because I feel confident that my nickname suits me.
A large part of the population, however, that often gets shafted in the nickname arena are serial killers. Who makes up these unimaginative, uninspired and uninventive labels. Oh you don't say? The same person who names hurricanes after strippers. Makes sense.
Anyone who murders in bulk should no longer have the following overused words in their nickname: Ripper, Strangler or Midnight. The (I did not make them up) serial killers below were assigned nicknames that are just belittling to the art of murdering and (I'm ashamed to admit) made me Chortle(chuckle + snort.)
- The Hairy One - Hairy and a serial killer? Life has dealt this guy an unfortunate hand.
- The Shoe-Fetish Slayer - I heard "The Sex in the City" sequel is pretty horrendous. So did this guy.
- The Giggling Granny - This just doesn't scare me because it just sounds too adorable.
- Smelly Bob - Is it lacking in social refinement to not shower before serial killing?
- The Vampire of Dusseldorf - The word "Dusseldorf" makes me giggle.
- Killer from the Shadows - Really? That's the best you do? You're not even trying. Now I kinda want to kill you.
To whomever created these nicknames, your sterile talent just diminishes the fine reputation that a serial killer deserves. Shame on you.
You are a diche.
Douche + Dick
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Day 308 - Mary Poppins Put Out
June 12th, 2010
Oh world cup...you've resurfaced after your four year sabbatical. You just disappear. Like teardrops in the rain.
When the U.S. team faces England today, the famed 1950 upset over England will be on the minds of many. Perhaps a few other English disappointments will be triggered like that 1776 thing. And don't even get me started on The War of 1812.
The notorious rivalry between America(ranked 14th) and that country across the ocean(ranked 8th) continues today and I have some strategy tips for the American team so our country can continue to have the attitude of superiority manifested in an overbearing manner with presumptuous claims and assumptions.
America, your best defense will be combining your soccer skills with British stereotypes. Generalizations and unverifiable content-matter renders a Brit powerless.
Strategy tips for America:
Center Forward:
To succeed, you will need to be aggressive, brave and offer the opposing team powdered wigs. The stunning elaborate design of curls and waves topped off with a dousing of white powder is sure to distract your English competitors. You also must be prepared to work hard without the ball, know how to dribble your opponents and be able to score goals while reading Harry Potter.
Center Fullback (or Stopper’s):
Your main task is to play offensively at intervals while screaming "splendid," "terribly," "cheerio," "what-ho," and "bloody." If the British verbiage is not proving to divert their attention, scream," Mary Poppins is a whore!"
Goalkeeper:
Your job is to defend your team against British emotional coldness. You are the designated player that is in charge of distracting English opponents with naked pictures of Elizabeth Hurley, Fergie Duchess of York...and (should their be an emergency situation)... Prince Charles. Surprisingly...greats abs.
Oh world cup...you've resurfaced after your four year sabbatical. You just disappear. Like teardrops in the rain.
When the U.S. team faces England today, the famed 1950 upset over England will be on the minds of many. Perhaps a few other English disappointments will be triggered like that 1776 thing. And don't even get me started on The War of 1812.
The notorious rivalry between America(ranked 14th) and that country across the ocean(ranked 8th) continues today and I have some strategy tips for the American team so our country can continue to have the attitude of superiority manifested in an overbearing manner with presumptuous claims and assumptions.
America, your best defense will be combining your soccer skills with British stereotypes. Generalizations and unverifiable content-matter renders a Brit powerless.
Strategy tips for America:
Center Forward:
To succeed, you will need to be aggressive, brave and offer the opposing team powdered wigs. The stunning elaborate design of curls and waves topped off with a dousing of white powder is sure to distract your English competitors. You also must be prepared to work hard without the ball, know how to dribble your opponents and be able to score goals while reading Harry Potter.
Center Fullback (or Stopper’s):
Your main task is to play offensively at intervals while screaming "splendid," "terribly," "cheerio," "what-ho," and "bloody." If the British verbiage is not proving to divert their attention, scream," Mary Poppins is a whore!"
Goalkeeper:
Your job is to defend your team against British emotional coldness. You are the designated player that is in charge of distracting English opponents with naked pictures of Elizabeth Hurley, Fergie Duchess of York...and (should their be an emergency situation)... Prince Charles. Surprisingly...greats abs.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Day 307 - We Salute You, Grandma Rae
June 11th, 2010
As I've mentioned in my last few blog entries, my family has congregated on Sullivan's Island, South Carolina to celebrate my Grandma Rae's 90th birthday(my Grandma Harriet turned 90 in March. They're sticking around ...to keep an eye on me.)
As little Kabats, my brother and I would "summer" with our grandmother in Sumter, South Carolina, the southern town that's as big as it sounds. Our parents would drive us to meet my grandparents at a Burger King in Rockingham where my brother and I were passed off. We were a drug deal.
I was just having a General Mill's International Coffee moment with my brother on the porch of my mother's beach house and we were reminiscing about those weeks with Grandma and Grandpa in their (cliché of a cliché) small southern town.
A few reflections:
- Grandma always offered to scratch our backs. She had talent (minus a few times when she lost focus and would scratch “endearingly" too hard on the same area)...but otherwise...her ability was strong and I would drool.
- The smell - Grandma and Grandma's house had an odor. It wasn't unpleasant but it was...how you say... distinctive. To this day, should this essence enter my nasal passages... I'll hit the stranger closest to me and yell "It smells like Sumter!" They won't get it...or care. But you know whose heart will feel full? Mine.
- I was the youngest grandchild and my grandfather kept his toy store, Tiny Town, open until I was five years old. The grandiose awesomeness of having grandparents with a toy store can't be justified with words. I'll keep it simple. It was good.
- Grandma is a wonderful cook and always willing to think "outside the box" with some of her concoctions. Every morning we'd wake up to the most delightful breakfast array that would include her homemade cream cheese/cottage mix that spread easily and efficiently onto the nearest toasted edible. At lunch time (which was called dinner), we'd eat turkey and drink iced tea with (another grandma invention) ice tea cubes. In the evening, we'd eat "supper" which was always topped off with her signature dessert, Mandel bread (which looking back...is basically Jewish biscotti.)
- Our days were filled with swimming at her country club pool across the street, taking hour long baths in her giant whirlpool of a bathtub and getting presents from her friend Eileen Rubin...underwear and socks.
Having had the opportunity to have my Grandma as a pivotal part of my life for 35 years is not something I take lightly. We are all the sum of our experiences and I have no unpleasant memories of this women that I am certain might just be the kindest person in the world. Her gentle and soothing energy is like watching a sleeping baby...it's just calming.
So tonight is about this special woman whose parents were immigrants from the Austria-Hungary Empire, grew up in Ehrhardt, South Carolina, graduated high school at 15, went to Winthrop college, was a 1st grade teacher, is a MacGyver in the kitchen and has never said an unkind word about anyone.
Tonight we celebrate the woman who has always celebrated us.
This week, I had the opportunity to ask four generations of family what they think of...when they think of "Grandma Rae":
- Rae's Children
Ann - Sweetness, no judgment and love for her family
Ron - Her family focus has always been her mantra.
- Rae's Grandchildren:
Steven - The back scratching
Scott - Iced tea cubes, Mandel bread and back scratches
- Rae's Great Grandchildren:
Ethan (age 12) - She asks me the same questions 3 times. That means she's interested in me and so nice.
Emily (age 10) - She's so sweet and I'm always excited to see her
.
Eleanor (age 5) - I like when I'm on the phone with her and she tells me to go to the toy store to pick out a toy.
Lilly (age 4) - I like that she hugs me.
Jack (age 1) - I'm envious of Grandma Rae's mild disposition, pleasantness, tenderness and concern for others. I'd like to think I've gone through my 18 months of life with the same temperamental makeup. But for right now, I would just prefer to say 2 things...doggie and baby.
As I've mentioned in my last few blog entries, my family has congregated on Sullivan's Island, South Carolina to celebrate my Grandma Rae's 90th birthday(my Grandma Harriet turned 90 in March. They're sticking around ...to keep an eye on me.)
As little Kabats, my brother and I would "summer" with our grandmother in Sumter, South Carolina, the southern town that's as big as it sounds. Our parents would drive us to meet my grandparents at a Burger King in Rockingham where my brother and I were passed off. We were a drug deal.
I was just having a General Mill's International Coffee moment with my brother on the porch of my mother's beach house and we were reminiscing about those weeks with Grandma and Grandpa in their (cliché of a cliché) small southern town.
A few reflections:
- Grandma always offered to scratch our backs. She had talent (minus a few times when she lost focus and would scratch “endearingly" too hard on the same area)...but otherwise...her ability was strong and I would drool.
- The smell - Grandma and Grandma's house had an odor. It wasn't unpleasant but it was...how you say... distinctive. To this day, should this essence enter my nasal passages... I'll hit the stranger closest to me and yell "It smells like Sumter!" They won't get it...or care. But you know whose heart will feel full? Mine.
- I was the youngest grandchild and my grandfather kept his toy store, Tiny Town, open until I was five years old. The grandiose awesomeness of having grandparents with a toy store can't be justified with words. I'll keep it simple. It was good.
- Grandma is a wonderful cook and always willing to think "outside the box" with some of her concoctions. Every morning we'd wake up to the most delightful breakfast array that would include her homemade cream cheese/cottage mix that spread easily and efficiently onto the nearest toasted edible. At lunch time (which was called dinner), we'd eat turkey and drink iced tea with (another grandma invention) ice tea cubes. In the evening, we'd eat "supper" which was always topped off with her signature dessert, Mandel bread (which looking back...is basically Jewish biscotti.)
- Our days were filled with swimming at her country club pool across the street, taking hour long baths in her giant whirlpool of a bathtub and getting presents from her friend Eileen Rubin...underwear and socks.
Having had the opportunity to have my Grandma as a pivotal part of my life for 35 years is not something I take lightly. We are all the sum of our experiences and I have no unpleasant memories of this women that I am certain might just be the kindest person in the world. Her gentle and soothing energy is like watching a sleeping baby...it's just calming.
So tonight is about this special woman whose parents were immigrants from the Austria-Hungary Empire, grew up in Ehrhardt, South Carolina, graduated high school at 15, went to Winthrop college, was a 1st grade teacher, is a MacGyver in the kitchen and has never said an unkind word about anyone.
Tonight we celebrate the woman who has always celebrated us.
This week, I had the opportunity to ask four generations of family what they think of...when they think of "Grandma Rae":
- Rae's Children
Ann - Sweetness, no judgment and love for her family
Ron - Her family focus has always been her mantra.
- Rae's Grandchildren:
Steven - The back scratching
Scott - Iced tea cubes, Mandel bread and back scratches
- Rae's Great Grandchildren:
Ethan (age 12) - She asks me the same questions 3 times. That means she's interested in me and so nice.
Emily (age 10) - She's so sweet and I'm always excited to see her
.
Eleanor (age 5) - I like when I'm on the phone with her and she tells me to go to the toy store to pick out a toy.
Lilly (age 4) - I like that she hugs me.
Jack (age 1) - I'm envious of Grandma Rae's mild disposition, pleasantness, tenderness and concern for others. I'd like to think I've gone through my 18 months of life with the same temperamental makeup. But for right now, I would just prefer to say 2 things...doggie and baby.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Day 306 - The Fighters of Evil Doing
June 10th, 2010
As I mentioned yesterday, I'm at Sullivan's Island for my Grandmother's 90th birthday. Should you desire a birds-eye(or Jax-eye) view of this fairy tale part of the world, visit yesterday's blog entry, "Nonchalant Observer -Installment #9– Sullivan's Island".
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/06/day-305-nonchalant-observer-installment.html.
It's not even dusk and this day has offered a few opportunities to be surrounded by all types of fighters of evil doing.
Hanging with the fighters of evil doing scenario one:
My sister-in-law surprised my 4 year old niece with an assortment of munchkins from Dunkin' Donuts. Surprised and most delighted, the niece exhibited the purest of kid joy as she dove her head into the box. The visual was enhanced with her wearing a Supergirl costume. The scenario continued to write itself when my real life cop boyfriend sat next to her and started eating the box of "adult donuts." Supergirl insisted that police man put the entire donut in his mouth...like she did(then returned it to the box) and was flabbergasted when police man dunked his edible into his coffee.Too soon?
Law enforcement and superhero united by fried dough. It was beautiful. Real. And if the two figures of authority were to be in a summer blockbuster hit...I would watch it (with the hopes that it would turn into an ice show.)
Hanging with the fighters of evil doing scenario two:
My boyfriend and I drove the golf cart over to the Isle of Palms, the barrier island adjacent to Sullivan's Island. Although I used to go to the beach resort(Wild Dunes) at the end of the island as a child, I was not familiar with the lay of the land. We stopped and asked a police man for directions and I coerced my boyfriend to tell him that they made the same career choice. The (about to retire) Isle of Palms cop, Bobby, insisted that we exit our vehicle and get into his squad car....so he could give us a tour of the island. In the spirit of brotherhood. I guess. Good times were had. I sat in the back as the "2 authorities" from different worlds(1 from Brooklyn...1 from the "island") talked shop in the front. I discovered:
- I felt badass for having a new friend who can drive on the beach(even though he pointed out real estate that I can't afford.)
- As far as the local fireman, Bobby the cop is NOT a fan.
- There's a party with the precinct boys at the Windjammer tomorrow night. ..Bobby invited us. You should come too.
As of now, 4:45PM, I do not have a third hanging with the fighters of evil doing scenario. Before the day is done, I hope to develop a close personal bond with the security guy at the Gap. He'll find it endearing when I ask him if the khakis I have on are figure flattering. Cut to us whimsically skipping through the denim section with animated birds chirping in our ears.
Can't picture it? Wait for the ice show.
As I mentioned yesterday, I'm at Sullivan's Island for my Grandmother's 90th birthday. Should you desire a birds-eye(or Jax-eye) view of this fairy tale part of the world, visit yesterday's blog entry, "Nonchalant Observer -Installment #9– Sullivan's Island".
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/06/day-305-nonchalant-observer-installment.html.
It's not even dusk and this day has offered a few opportunities to be surrounded by all types of fighters of evil doing.
Hanging with the fighters of evil doing scenario one:
My sister-in-law surprised my 4 year old niece with an assortment of munchkins from Dunkin' Donuts. Surprised and most delighted, the niece exhibited the purest of kid joy as she dove her head into the box. The visual was enhanced with her wearing a Supergirl costume. The scenario continued to write itself when my real life cop boyfriend sat next to her and started eating the box of "adult donuts." Supergirl insisted that police man put the entire donut in his mouth...like she did(then returned it to the box) and was flabbergasted when police man dunked his edible into his coffee.Too soon?
Law enforcement and superhero united by fried dough. It was beautiful. Real. And if the two figures of authority were to be in a summer blockbuster hit...I would watch it (with the hopes that it would turn into an ice show.)
Hanging with the fighters of evil doing scenario two:
My boyfriend and I drove the golf cart over to the Isle of Palms, the barrier island adjacent to Sullivan's Island. Although I used to go to the beach resort(Wild Dunes) at the end of the island as a child, I was not familiar with the lay of the land. We stopped and asked a police man for directions and I coerced my boyfriend to tell him that they made the same career choice. The (about to retire) Isle of Palms cop, Bobby, insisted that we exit our vehicle and get into his squad car....so he could give us a tour of the island. In the spirit of brotherhood. I guess. Good times were had. I sat in the back as the "2 authorities" from different worlds(1 from Brooklyn...1 from the "island") talked shop in the front. I discovered:
- I felt badass for having a new friend who can drive on the beach(even though he pointed out real estate that I can't afford.)
- As far as the local fireman, Bobby the cop is NOT a fan.
- There's a party with the precinct boys at the Windjammer tomorrow night. ..Bobby invited us. You should come too.
As of now, 4:45PM, I do not have a third hanging with the fighters of evil doing scenario. Before the day is done, I hope to develop a close personal bond with the security guy at the Gap. He'll find it endearing when I ask him if the khakis I have on are figure flattering. Cut to us whimsically skipping through the denim section with animated birds chirping in our ears.
Can't picture it? Wait for the ice show.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Day 305 - Nonchalant Observer -Installment #9– Sullivan's Island
June 9th, 2010
Today is my 9th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan. An excursion to Six Flags Great Adventure was our journey on day 284.
I'm in Charleston, South Carolina for my Grandma Rae's 90th birthday. Just three months ago, my other grandmother celebrated this milestone. For some reason that I can't really explain(yet)...it almost seems serendipitous that both of my Grandmothers turn 90 during this year of my 365 day blog entry challenge. This birthday shindig is at my mother's beach house on Sullivan's Island in a few days. I've been coming to this divinely sunny beach since before I could swim. On day 114, I expressed that "Sullivan's Island is a 6 mile long private residential community located just north of Charleston. At low tide, the beach is wide and the sand is soft. It would seem like the perfect opportunity to discuss feminine products." Although we didn't speak women's hygiene...some notable happenings ensued...on the island...and I nonchalantly observed.
9:21 - I walked 1 block to the beach to meet my brother, his wife and two small children. Upon my arrival, I saw their deflated beach ball which had been mauled by a sassy golden retriever. Better the ball than the kids.
9:45 - My boyfriend(in the spirit of the Crocodile Hunter) went into the ocean and fearlessly picked up a beige algae-esque looking something with eggs on it's coils. We're still not 100 percent sure what it was...but I'm going with a seahorse. Or intestine.
10:21 - A Sullivan's Island "security vehicle" drove down the beach. My boyfriend is a cop so I suggested he go talk to them about brotherhood.
11:34 - We drove to lunch via a golf cart that my sister-in-law wanted to drive. It was her first time and she dated a golf pro for three years.
12:25 - We ate at Poe's, a tavern that celebrates the literary legend who lived on the island from 1827-1829. The restaurant was founded to "preserve the spirit of Edgar Allen Poe"... by serving kick ass burgers, fish tacos and bathrooms wallpapered with pages from his books.
1:25 - Across the street was an ice cream shop where my 4 year old niece got a ginormous strawberry sorbet that she said was "going to last forever!" It didn't.
3:00 - I wake up from an hour and a half nap because of the "high octane" activity from earlier in the day. Coming here from New York is reverse culture shock and you can't help but be overcome with fatigue. I never understood why intense relaxation is draining. But it is. And I like to nap. So everyone wins.
4:17 - My boyfriend and I went to explore the island(on the golf cart) and saw massive beach houses, strangers saying hello to us(with endearing southern enthusiasm) and we went to Fort Moultrie, a series of citadels on Sullivan's Island built to protect the city of Charleston. For a photograph, my special man asked me to straddle a cannon. I did not.
6:00 - We get back and my southern hospitable mom had bought a book on Sullivan's Island to give to my boyfriend. Just how she rolls. We'll quiz him later.
7:19 - I end today's entry as I'm off to eat BBQ and listen to bluegrass music. I just watched my four and five year old nieces eat hot dogs, dress up as princesses and make a replica of Fort Moultrie with ammunition, bunkers and Edgar Allen Poe books. That's a lie. I just saw the hot dog/princess part. I made the fort. Or dreamt about it.
Today is my 9th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan. An excursion to Six Flags Great Adventure was our journey on day 284.
I'm in Charleston, South Carolina for my Grandma Rae's 90th birthday. Just three months ago, my other grandmother celebrated this milestone. For some reason that I can't really explain(yet)...it almost seems serendipitous that both of my Grandmothers turn 90 during this year of my 365 day blog entry challenge. This birthday shindig is at my mother's beach house on Sullivan's Island in a few days. I've been coming to this divinely sunny beach since before I could swim. On day 114, I expressed that "Sullivan's Island is a 6 mile long private residential community located just north of Charleston. At low tide, the beach is wide and the sand is soft. It would seem like the perfect opportunity to discuss feminine products." Although we didn't speak women's hygiene...some notable happenings ensued...on the island...and I nonchalantly observed.
9:21 - I walked 1 block to the beach to meet my brother, his wife and two small children. Upon my arrival, I saw their deflated beach ball which had been mauled by a sassy golden retriever. Better the ball than the kids.
9:45 - My boyfriend(in the spirit of the Crocodile Hunter) went into the ocean and fearlessly picked up a beige algae-esque looking something with eggs on it's coils. We're still not 100 percent sure what it was...but I'm going with a seahorse. Or intestine.
10:21 - A Sullivan's Island "security vehicle" drove down the beach. My boyfriend is a cop so I suggested he go talk to them about brotherhood.
11:34 - We drove to lunch via a golf cart that my sister-in-law wanted to drive. It was her first time and she dated a golf pro for three years.
12:25 - We ate at Poe's, a tavern that celebrates the literary legend who lived on the island from 1827-1829. The restaurant was founded to "preserve the spirit of Edgar Allen Poe"... by serving kick ass burgers, fish tacos and bathrooms wallpapered with pages from his books.
1:25 - Across the street was an ice cream shop where my 4 year old niece got a ginormous strawberry sorbet that she said was "going to last forever!" It didn't.
3:00 - I wake up from an hour and a half nap because of the "high octane" activity from earlier in the day. Coming here from New York is reverse culture shock and you can't help but be overcome with fatigue. I never understood why intense relaxation is draining. But it is. And I like to nap. So everyone wins.
4:17 - My boyfriend and I went to explore the island(on the golf cart) and saw massive beach houses, strangers saying hello to us(with endearing southern enthusiasm) and we went to Fort Moultrie, a series of citadels on Sullivan's Island built to protect the city of Charleston. For a photograph, my special man asked me to straddle a cannon. I did not.
6:00 - We get back and my southern hospitable mom had bought a book on Sullivan's Island to give to my boyfriend. Just how she rolls. We'll quiz him later.
7:19 - I end today's entry as I'm off to eat BBQ and listen to bluegrass music. I just watched my four and five year old nieces eat hot dogs, dress up as princesses and make a replica of Fort Moultrie with ammunition, bunkers and Edgar Allen Poe books. That's a lie. I just saw the hot dog/princess part. I made the fort. Or dreamt about it.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Day 304 - Ask Jax - Part 16
June 8th, 2010
This is the 16th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
Why do I wake up every morning with my cat staring right at me very close to my face? Is she plotting something? - Rachel Koenig - New York, New York
Jax's Answer: When I was about seven years old, my cat, Catty(yes we named our cat...Catty), would be ready for a stare off when I would awaken. I just figured it was his way of trying to say, "Jax, I so enjoyed when you put me in a baby carriage with a bonnet on my cat head...then pushed me down the stairs. Can't wait to do it again today." What? You do the same thing with your cat? What's wrong with you? Come on.
I'd like to hear about FEAR. Amanda Brooke Lerner - New York, New York
Jax's Answer - On day 200, I wrote about some of my own efforts to push through my own challenges in , "Fear is a Dick" . A blurb: "I need to trust that security will follow soon. But it’s up to me to see it. To feel it. To create it. Fear is a real dick and I won’t let it into space, debilitate me and win. Then the terrorists win. Or something like that."Perhaps my own experiences are relatable. Here's the link to that entry: http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-200-fear-is-dick.html
What's an orphanage Aunt Jax - My 4 year old niece - San Francisco, California
Jax's answer - Go talk to my brother.
Why? Just Why? -Dana Lishs - New York, New York
Jax's Answer - Colonel Mustard (committed the murder in the billiard room with a candlestick) because he was constantly mocked for having a condiment as a last name. Plus, he never recovered from a dissatisfying threesome with Miss Scarlet and Professor Plum. 2 words: The Clap.
This is the 16th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
Why do I wake up every morning with my cat staring right at me very close to my face? Is she plotting something? - Rachel Koenig - New York, New York
Jax's Answer: When I was about seven years old, my cat, Catty(yes we named our cat...Catty), would be ready for a stare off when I would awaken. I just figured it was his way of trying to say, "Jax, I so enjoyed when you put me in a baby carriage with a bonnet on my cat head...then pushed me down the stairs. Can't wait to do it again today." What? You do the same thing with your cat? What's wrong with you? Come on.
I'd like to hear about FEAR. Amanda Brooke Lerner - New York, New York
Jax's Answer - On day 200, I wrote about some of my own efforts to push through my own challenges in , "Fear is a Dick" . A blurb: "I need to trust that security will follow soon. But it’s up to me to see it. To feel it. To create it. Fear is a real dick and I won’t let it into space, debilitate me and win. Then the terrorists win. Or something like that."Perhaps my own experiences are relatable. Here's the link to that entry: http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/02/day-200-fear-is-dick.html
What's an orphanage Aunt Jax - My 4 year old niece - San Francisco, California
Jax's answer - Go talk to my brother.
Why? Just Why? -Dana Lishs - New York, New York
Jax's Answer - Colonel Mustard (committed the murder in the billiard room with a candlestick) because he was constantly mocked for having a condiment as a last name. Plus, he never recovered from a dissatisfying threesome with Miss Scarlet and Professor Plum. 2 words: The Clap.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Day 303 - Turducken Killed the Meat Making Star
June 7th, 2010
On day 292's entry, "Be the Man Your Mom Is", I perused my virtual network's facebook status updates and mentioned the ones that reached me the most in the heart area. I declare today, day 303 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, part two of dissecting the updates that I found most inspiring. Touching. Perplexing.
Today's picks:
"Goooooood Morning FB Fam! Today is going to be a gorgeous day! Get a great workout outdoors, treat yourself to a healthy lunch with some protien and leafy greens....complete with carrot juice....come on try it, it's not that bad! OK, I give you permission, have 2 cookies as a treat.......walk it off later! Peace and love!"
Jax's thoughts - Just reading this wears me out. It's safe to assume that this peppi-licious lady gets more done before 6:00am than I get done all day.
"Elton John is officially a soulless douchenozzle."
Jax's thoughts - Keith Richards agreed when he said Elton John can only write songs about dead blondes.
"Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?"
Jax's thoughts - I did...but finished it when this slogan meant something to me 20 years ago. Come on.
"If they can make turkey taste like ham, how come they can't make ham taste like turkey?"
Jax's thoughts - After the creation of the turducken( turkey stuffed with a duck, which itself is stuffed with a chicken), they sent out a memo to all meat lovers that read, "Our work is done."
"I wish I could teach Yoga to Congress."
Jax's thoughts: 2 words: Downward Dogoff
"Thanks so much for all the birthday wishes."
Jax's thoughts - OK. Enough with this obligatory update. We get it. It's your birthday. People send well wishes. You're appreciative. Try writing this: "Thank you all for the birthday wishes and for those of you who failed to commemorate the anniversary of my birth...WTF? You know who are and yes, the call is coming from inside the house."
"'A Thousand Clowns' is still an awesome movie"
Jax's thoughts: As good as the prequel, "999 Mimes"?
On day 292's entry, "Be the Man Your Mom Is", I perused my virtual network's facebook status updates and mentioned the ones that reached me the most in the heart area. I declare today, day 303 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, part two of dissecting the updates that I found most inspiring. Touching. Perplexing.
Today's picks:
"Goooooood Morning FB Fam! Today is going to be a gorgeous day! Get a great workout outdoors, treat yourself to a healthy lunch with some protien and leafy greens....complete with carrot juice....come on try it, it's not that bad! OK, I give you permission, have 2 cookies as a treat.......walk it off later! Peace and love!"
Jax's thoughts - Just reading this wears me out. It's safe to assume that this peppi-licious lady gets more done before 6:00am than I get done all day.
"Elton John is officially a soulless douchenozzle."
Jax's thoughts - Keith Richards agreed when he said Elton John can only write songs about dead blondes.
"Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?"
Jax's thoughts - I did...but finished it when this slogan meant something to me 20 years ago. Come on.
"If they can make turkey taste like ham, how come they can't make ham taste like turkey?"
Jax's thoughts - After the creation of the turducken( turkey stuffed with a duck, which itself is stuffed with a chicken), they sent out a memo to all meat lovers that read, "Our work is done."
"I wish I could teach Yoga to Congress."
Jax's thoughts: 2 words: Downward Dogoff
"Thanks so much for all the birthday wishes."
Jax's thoughts - OK. Enough with this obligatory update. We get it. It's your birthday. People send well wishes. You're appreciative. Try writing this: "Thank you all for the birthday wishes and for those of you who failed to commemorate the anniversary of my birth...WTF? You know who are and yes, the call is coming from inside the house."
"'A Thousand Clowns' is still an awesome movie"
Jax's thoughts: As good as the prequel, "999 Mimes"?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Day 302 - Katy, Kabat and Kelsey
June 6th, 2010
Last night, I met my (if I were a lesbian I would totally go for her) friend Katy for a cocktail before we took a voyage from Brooklyn to Broadway...to the theater( for the sake of this blog, please pronounce it with a haughty British accent as theee-tuhhh). We got dolled up and dare I say were the recipients of some lusty glances as we were walking to the (say it with me) theee-tuhhhh.
Side note: I fear that I sound cocky...but throw me a bone. I worked it last night with a hot dress. Rest assured, the rest of the year my self esteem is challenged.
Katy is the "bestest" hanger outer companion because we have identical heights and personalities(complete with boisterous hand gestures that will injure you should you get within five feet of us.) The difference: I'm the blond and she has the the short brunette bob cut with bangs. For Halloween, we were originally thinking we'd go as Lavern and Shirley. Now we're leaning towards the Sweeney Sisters.
Guys, as far as looks, she is your type. Or I am. This is how our "admirers " divvied up their attentions last eve.
Dominican teen - Katy
Obama supporter - Me
Midwest tourist dad - Katy
Awkward prepubescent boy - Me
Gay Man - Both of us
Katy and I arrived at the Shubert Broadway Theee-tuhhhh( ...now just beating a dead horse) to see Kelsey Grammer star in "La Cage Aux Folles", grabbed yet another alcoholic beverage and took our seats...in the third row... Katy used to work on "Frasier" so we got hooked up and treated like we were more important than we really were.
I loved the show and am obviously not alone with my assessment as the production has received 11 Tony Award Nominations. We were able to finagle the green light to go backstage and see Kelsey so Katy could reunite with her old co-worker. He even showed up to join us for a super fast bite at the bar next door. Admittedly, I was starstruck because I've always been overwhelmed by this guy's two-decade portrayal of psychiatrist Dr. Frasier Crane, the "lovably pompous" gentleman who enjoys fine wine, is well versed in the writing of Henry James(among other literary legends), and has an obscure interest in Mongolian throat singing. Plus, come on, Grammer provides the voice of Sideshow Bob. Enough said.
I did discover a few things about my new BFF, Kelsey:
- He's softer and more laid back than his television persona.
- He's evidently the nicest man. Katy told me he flew the entire cast and crew(200 people) of "Frasier" to his home in Maui. And they could bring guests.
- Not a fan of onions. He ordered a cucumber salad and sorted them out.
A pretty solid night. Afterward, we headed back to our local Brooklyn dive bar to meet up with my guy, our friends and more mixed drinks.
My ex was there. That was a little weird. Also a little weird when he told me he wasn't over his last two girlfriends. And dating a lesbian.
Sometimes our own lives should be performed on a Broadway stage...at the(say it from the heart...not the head)theee-tuhhhh.
Last night, I met my (if I were a lesbian I would totally go for her) friend Katy for a cocktail before we took a voyage from Brooklyn to Broadway...to the theater( for the sake of this blog, please pronounce it with a haughty British accent as theee-tuhhh). We got dolled up and dare I say were the recipients of some lusty glances as we were walking to the (say it with me) theee-tuhhhh.
Side note: I fear that I sound cocky...but throw me a bone. I worked it last night with a hot dress. Rest assured, the rest of the year my self esteem is challenged.
Katy is the "bestest" hanger outer companion because we have identical heights and personalities(complete with boisterous hand gestures that will injure you should you get within five feet of us.) The difference: I'm the blond and she has the the short brunette bob cut with bangs. For Halloween, we were originally thinking we'd go as Lavern and Shirley. Now we're leaning towards the Sweeney Sisters.
Guys, as far as looks, she is your type. Or I am. This is how our "admirers " divvied up their attentions last eve.
Dominican teen - Katy
Obama supporter - Me
Midwest tourist dad - Katy
Awkward prepubescent boy - Me
Gay Man - Both of us
Katy and I arrived at the Shubert Broadway Theee-tuhhhh( ...now just beating a dead horse) to see Kelsey Grammer star in "La Cage Aux Folles", grabbed yet another alcoholic beverage and took our seats...in the third row... Katy used to work on "Frasier" so we got hooked up and treated like we were more important than we really were.
I loved the show and am obviously not alone with my assessment as the production has received 11 Tony Award Nominations. We were able to finagle the green light to go backstage and see Kelsey so Katy could reunite with her old co-worker. He even showed up to join us for a super fast bite at the bar next door. Admittedly, I was starstruck because I've always been overwhelmed by this guy's two-decade portrayal of psychiatrist Dr. Frasier Crane, the "lovably pompous" gentleman who enjoys fine wine, is well versed in the writing of Henry James(among other literary legends), and has an obscure interest in Mongolian throat singing. Plus, come on, Grammer provides the voice of Sideshow Bob. Enough said.
I did discover a few things about my new BFF, Kelsey:
- He's softer and more laid back than his television persona.
- He's evidently the nicest man. Katy told me he flew the entire cast and crew(200 people) of "Frasier" to his home in Maui. And they could bring guests.
- Not a fan of onions. He ordered a cucumber salad and sorted them out.
A pretty solid night. Afterward, we headed back to our local Brooklyn dive bar to meet up with my guy, our friends and more mixed drinks.
My ex was there. That was a little weird. Also a little weird when he told me he wasn't over his last two girlfriends. And dating a lesbian.
Sometimes our own lives should be performed on a Broadway stage...at the(say it from the heart...not the head)theee-tuhhhh.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Day 301 - Eau de Jax
June 5th, 2010
Last night, my group of ladies met our guy friends at a new Brooklyn bar in Park Slope, The Rock Shop. On this 82 degree-ed humid eve, we perused up to the spaciously impressive roof deck and found our males all sitting with their legs on the benches. Straddled. I told them they looked like a commercial for balls. My friend Paul followed up with. "It smells like low tide."
The above scenario took my thought process to this place: The human species spritz themselves with perfumes and colognes with the hopes of diffusing a delightful fragrant odor. Sometimes flowery. Sometimes musky. Often alluring pheromones in a bottle.
Derek Zoolander agrees. With his cologne(and as a merman), he wistfully swims up to the screen and shares with the world that "Moisture is the essence of wetness, and wetness is the essence of beauty."
Fragrances have long been reliable parody inspirerers. SNL gave us Canis -" Cologne for Dogs" and Hey, You - "The perfume for one night stands."
These flower based(or synthetic) liquids have sparked my entrepreneurial spirit, After the success of my first 2 businesses, Baby Doo Rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs AND Jax's Nail Saloon(where the mani/pedis are given by untrained drunk Korean women), I'd like to have my own perfume, Eau de Jax.
My product(soon to hit cheap drugstore shelves) is a story of seduction, intensity and bold sensuality that lies half-way between restraint and abandon. The bright feminine freshness combines sophistication and nonchalance for a deep, mysterious and sensual fragrance. A structure of contrasting forces.
It's also a mouthwash.
Last night, my group of ladies met our guy friends at a new Brooklyn bar in Park Slope, The Rock Shop. On this 82 degree-ed humid eve, we perused up to the spaciously impressive roof deck and found our males all sitting with their legs on the benches. Straddled. I told them they looked like a commercial for balls. My friend Paul followed up with. "It smells like low tide."
The above scenario took my thought process to this place: The human species spritz themselves with perfumes and colognes with the hopes of diffusing a delightful fragrant odor. Sometimes flowery. Sometimes musky. Often alluring pheromones in a bottle.
Derek Zoolander agrees. With his cologne(and as a merman), he wistfully swims up to the screen and shares with the world that "Moisture is the essence of wetness, and wetness is the essence of beauty."
Fragrances have long been reliable parody inspirerers. SNL gave us Canis -" Cologne for Dogs" and Hey, You - "The perfume for one night stands."
These flower based(or synthetic) liquids have sparked my entrepreneurial spirit, After the success of my first 2 businesses, Baby Doo Rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs AND Jax's Nail Saloon(where the mani/pedis are given by untrained drunk Korean women), I'd like to have my own perfume, Eau de Jax.
My product(soon to hit cheap drugstore shelves) is a story of seduction, intensity and bold sensuality that lies half-way between restraint and abandon. The bright feminine freshness combines sophistication and nonchalance for a deep, mysterious and sensual fragrance. A structure of contrasting forces.
It's also a mouthwash.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Day 300 - An Inconvenient Douche
June 4th, 2010
Al and Tipper Gore have announced they are breaking up.
After the Nobel Peace prize laureate lost his grasp on that presidential job thingy, he gained strength with the success of his film that focused on his travels in support of his efforts to educate the public about the severity of the climate crisis, "An Inconvenient Truth". Clearly, AG has resurfaced from hitting rock bottom before. I've put in several (unreturned) phone calls to Al Gore urging him to use the same healing tool that was his saving grace after his last tragic loss: Make a movie...about being wronged by his soon to be former wife. I see this straight to video feature following him around as he tries to educate the world on the demise of his marriage from his high school sweetheart, wife of forty years and recipient of an impressive French kiss at the Democratic National Convention in August 2000. The title is a work in progress but so far my imaginary focus groups seems to resonate with: "Tipper Gore: An Inconvenient Douche".
Some highlights:
- Gore opens the film by greeting an audience with a joke: "I am Al Gore; I used to be the next President of the United States. And married". After the crowds laughs, Gore begins his slide show on his marital years; a comprehensive presentation with detailed graphs, flow charts that demonstrate Tipper's mood plummeting to the dark side when she was "flowing" and stark visuals which show his former wife wearing white after Labor Day, eating live goldfish and making out with Hilary Clinton in a strip mall parking lot in Duluth. Gore shows off several majestic photographs of himself saving kittens from trees. They're Persian.
- The former Vice President recalls a story from their high school years. He admits, "Tipper is evil and I should have seen the red flag when she was voted, 'Most likely to violate the most basic moral and ethical standards prescribed by a society, philosophy and religion'."
- Gore refers to his loss to George W. Bush in the 2000 United States presidential election as a "hard blow" yet subsequently "Tipper initiated the end to an active sex life. And all blows."
Smell Oscar? I do.
Even the staunchest global warming denier is sure to love this film and admit,"Gore had me on the edge of my seat being gripped by a haunting message. "Tipper Gore: An Inconvenient Douche" is not a story of despair but rather a rallying cry to protect the earth from Tipper. It's now clear that she is back on the market and that requires us to act boldly, quickly and wisely."
Even the staunchest global warming denier is sure to love this film and admit,"Gore had me on the edge of my seat being gripped by a haunting message. "Tipper Gore: An Inconvenient Douche" is not a story of despair but rather a rallying cry to protect the earth from Tipper. It's now clear that she is back on the market and that requires us to act boldly, quickly and wisely."
Al and Tipper Gore have announced they are breaking up.
After the Nobel Peace prize laureate lost his grasp on that presidential job thingy, he gained strength with the success of his film that focused on his travels in support of his efforts to educate the public about the severity of the climate crisis, "An Inconvenient Truth". Clearly, AG has resurfaced from hitting rock bottom before. I've put in several (unreturned) phone calls to Al Gore urging him to use the same healing tool that was his saving grace after his last tragic loss: Make a movie...about being wronged by his soon to be former wife. I see this straight to video feature following him around as he tries to educate the world on the demise of his marriage from his high school sweetheart, wife of forty years and recipient of an impressive French kiss at the Democratic National Convention in August 2000. The title is a work in progress but so far my imaginary focus groups seems to resonate with: "Tipper Gore: An Inconvenient Douche".
Some highlights:
- Gore opens the film by greeting an audience with a joke: "I am Al Gore; I used to be the next President of the United States. And married". After the crowds laughs, Gore begins his slide show on his marital years; a comprehensive presentation with detailed graphs, flow charts that demonstrate Tipper's mood plummeting to the dark side when she was "flowing" and stark visuals which show his former wife wearing white after Labor Day, eating live goldfish and making out with Hilary Clinton in a strip mall parking lot in Duluth. Gore shows off several majestic photographs of himself saving kittens from trees. They're Persian.
- The former Vice President recalls a story from their high school years. He admits, "Tipper is evil and I should have seen the red flag when she was voted, 'Most likely to violate the most basic moral and ethical standards prescribed by a society, philosophy and religion'."
- Gore refers to his loss to George W. Bush in the 2000 United States presidential election as a "hard blow" yet subsequently "Tipper initiated the end to an active sex life. And all blows."
Smell Oscar? I do.
Even the staunchest global warming denier is sure to love this film and admit,"Gore had me on the edge of my seat being gripped by a haunting message. "Tipper Gore: An Inconvenient Douche" is not a story of despair but rather a rallying cry to protect the earth from Tipper. It's now clear that she is back on the market and that requires us to act boldly, quickly and wisely."
Even the staunchest global warming denier is sure to love this film and admit,"Gore had me on the edge of my seat being gripped by a haunting message. "Tipper Gore: An Inconvenient Douche" is not a story of despair but rather a rallying cry to protect the earth from Tipper. It's now clear that she is back on the market and that requires us to act boldly, quickly and wisely."
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Day 299 - Geriatric Crush
June 3rd, 2010
We're down to Betty White, the last surviving Golden Girl. Rue McClanahan has just joined Bea Arthur and Estelle Getty at the Del Boca Vista retirement community in the sky.
Whenever anyone asks me who my female comedy heroes are, my go to answers are Carol Burnett and Tracey Ullman. However, it's occurred to me (rather recently) that the Girls who are Golden somehow did invade my subconscious comedic wiring (presumably from watching the show during my awkwardly formative preteen years.) I take pause that I was magnetically drawn to a show with a premise of four aging women living together in Miami...and the shenanigans that ensue. But I got hooked and never have given proper reflection as to why this sitcom successfully captured the attention of a very short attention spanned prepubescent.
Here's why I found "The Golden Girls" to be solid. Much like a rock.
- The four leads were true pros and beloved despite an industry that is most unforgiving towards aging females.
- "The Golden Girls" became only the second TV show -- after "All in the Family" --to have an entirely Emmy-winning cast. Three words: No weak link. Three more words: A true ensemble.
- It takes remarkably strong writing and perfect delivery to warrant an audible laughter from me. I adhere to one day being able to create the following verbiage. It's just.....too good:
Blanche: You know what the worst part about getting older is?
Dorothy: Your face, Rose's hands?
Blanche: I treat my body like a temple.
Sophia: Yeah, open to everyone, day or night.
Sophia: You're Blanche's daughter, the model?
Rebecca: That's right.
Sophia: What did she model - car covers?
Sophia: Rose, just remember, you're smarter than people say you are. You've got good sense, and you know what you're doing.
Rose: Oh, Sophia.
Sophia: Blanche, you're a slut.
Blanche: Oh, Sophia.
Rose: The laws in St. Olaf are very stringent. Their motto is 'Use a gun, go apologize.'
Rose: Can I ask a dumb question?
Dorothy: Better than anyone I know.
Goodbye masterful women of the one liners. My comedic flag is raised at half staff as I seek solace in knowing Betty White is still sharing her brilliance. I can't say anything that hasn't been gushed about this legend in the last few years....except that I have a crush on her. That's right. I have a geriatric girl crush on Betty White.
We're down to Betty White, the last surviving Golden Girl. Rue McClanahan has just joined Bea Arthur and Estelle Getty at the Del Boca Vista retirement community in the sky.
Whenever anyone asks me who my female comedy heroes are, my go to answers are Carol Burnett and Tracey Ullman. However, it's occurred to me (rather recently) that the Girls who are Golden somehow did invade my subconscious comedic wiring (presumably from watching the show during my awkwardly formative preteen years.) I take pause that I was magnetically drawn to a show with a premise of four aging women living together in Miami...and the shenanigans that ensue. But I got hooked and never have given proper reflection as to why this sitcom successfully captured the attention of a very short attention spanned prepubescent.
Here's why I found "The Golden Girls" to be solid. Much like a rock.
- The four leads were true pros and beloved despite an industry that is most unforgiving towards aging females.
- "The Golden Girls" became only the second TV show -- after "All in the Family" --to have an entirely Emmy-winning cast. Three words: No weak link. Three more words: A true ensemble.
- It takes remarkably strong writing and perfect delivery to warrant an audible laughter from me. I adhere to one day being able to create the following verbiage. It's just.....too good:
Blanche: You know what the worst part about getting older is?
Dorothy: Your face, Rose's hands?
Blanche: I treat my body like a temple.
Sophia: Yeah, open to everyone, day or night.
Sophia: You're Blanche's daughter, the model?
Rebecca: That's right.
Sophia: What did she model - car covers?
Sophia: Rose, just remember, you're smarter than people say you are. You've got good sense, and you know what you're doing.
Rose: Oh, Sophia.
Sophia: Blanche, you're a slut.
Blanche: Oh, Sophia.
Rose: The laws in St. Olaf are very stringent. Their motto is 'Use a gun, go apologize.'
Rose: Can I ask a dumb question?
Dorothy: Better than anyone I know.
Goodbye masterful women of the one liners. My comedic flag is raised at half staff as I seek solace in knowing Betty White is still sharing her brilliance. I can't say anything that hasn't been gushed about this legend in the last few years....except that I have a crush on her. That's right. I have a geriatric girl crush on Betty White.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Day 298 - Rentable Clique
June 2nd, 2010
I write to you from the basement of the Sag Harbor Public Library. It exhibits a similarity (in decor and odor) to1983. I'm craving a Tab.
I assume you're perplexed and we're about to venture into the following telepathic virtual dialogue:
You: But Jax! Don't be confined to a bibioteche when you're in a beautiful part of Long Island that (according to the Chamber of Commerce), " Offers an experience you will always remember."
Me: But You, I've committed to a 365 day blog entry challenge. I'm entering day 298 so I have to maintain endurance despite being (help me out Chamber of Commerce) nestled on the bay in the heart of the Hamptons in a 300 year old village that is supposed to enchant me with its centuries-old streets, pristine beaches, gracious accommodations, restaurants offering both locally-caught seafood and international fare, and unique shops with items from around the corner and around the world.
You: Sucks for you Jax. Come here. You look like you could use a hug.
While I grasp the nature of your concern, I'm at peace that I dedicate 2 to 3 hours a day to this year long project (regardless of my whereabouts.)
The reason for heading (as New Yorkers say) out east was to support a playwright friend whose play ("Dissonance") was opening at the Bay Street Theatre. Many of the productions that premier at this respected professional regional theatre move to Broadway and Off-Broadway.
My Brooklyn crew had one extra ticket and offered it up to a woman eating a hamburger alone at the bar we visited before curtain call. She was most grateful for our inclusive ways and joined us for drinks afterwards at Murph's Back Street Tavern. I liked her. A lot. And not just because I might have convinced her to take my Humor for Health & Self-Discovery workshop at The Omega Institute in July. http://eomega.org/omega/workshops/142f88fa876a0a79361da617418cefa3/
Yeah, so she was lovely. But you know who else was? We were. I run with an incredibly authentic,open minded and welcoming group of friends. My entrepreneurial spirit has suggested that it might be time to capitalize on what we do best. Make friends. Hang. Spread high-spirited fun, enjoyment and (dare I confess) hilarity.
We're offering up our notable services that will allow you the opportunity to hire us as friends. Some contracts will be signed prior to socializing(in a perceived sincere way) with riders that guarantee the following:
- We will laugh at your jokes. Yes, all of them. We're that good.
- Expect compliments like, "Those jeans make you look smart."
- We're known for our loving bear hugs(pats on the ass sold separately.)
- We promise to be upbeat, positive and are wired to smile(even though your political views are inane.)
In summation, my rentable clique wants you know "Whatever you decide or need, we are there for you." Until your paid upfront allotted time expires.
I write to you from the basement of the Sag Harbor Public Library. It exhibits a similarity (in decor and odor) to1983. I'm craving a Tab.
I assume you're perplexed and we're about to venture into the following telepathic virtual dialogue:
You: But Jax! Don't be confined to a bibioteche when you're in a beautiful part of Long Island that (according to the Chamber of Commerce), " Offers an experience you will always remember."
Me: But You, I've committed to a 365 day blog entry challenge. I'm entering day 298 so I have to maintain endurance despite being (help me out Chamber of Commerce) nestled on the bay in the heart of the Hamptons in a 300 year old village that is supposed to enchant me with its centuries-old streets, pristine beaches, gracious accommodations, restaurants offering both locally-caught seafood and international fare, and unique shops with items from around the corner and around the world.
You: Sucks for you Jax. Come here. You look like you could use a hug.
While I grasp the nature of your concern, I'm at peace that I dedicate 2 to 3 hours a day to this year long project (regardless of my whereabouts.)
The reason for heading (as New Yorkers say) out east was to support a playwright friend whose play ("Dissonance") was opening at the Bay Street Theatre. Many of the productions that premier at this respected professional regional theatre move to Broadway and Off-Broadway.
My Brooklyn crew had one extra ticket and offered it up to a woman eating a hamburger alone at the bar we visited before curtain call. She was most grateful for our inclusive ways and joined us for drinks afterwards at Murph's Back Street Tavern. I liked her. A lot. And not just because I might have convinced her to take my Humor for Health & Self-Discovery workshop at The Omega Institute in July. http://eomega.org/omega/workshops/142f88fa876a0a79361da617418cefa3/
Yeah, so she was lovely. But you know who else was? We were. I run with an incredibly authentic,open minded and welcoming group of friends. My entrepreneurial spirit has suggested that it might be time to capitalize on what we do best. Make friends. Hang. Spread high-spirited fun, enjoyment and (dare I confess) hilarity.
We're offering up our notable services that will allow you the opportunity to hire us as friends. Some contracts will be signed prior to socializing(in a perceived sincere way) with riders that guarantee the following:
- We will laugh at your jokes. Yes, all of them. We're that good.
- Expect compliments like, "Those jeans make you look smart."
- We're known for our loving bear hugs(pats on the ass sold separately.)
- We promise to be upbeat, positive and are wired to smile(even though your political views are inane.)
In summation, my rentable clique wants you know "Whatever you decide or need, we are there for you." Until your paid upfront allotted time expires.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Day 297 - Ask Jax - Part 15
June 1st, 2010
This is the 15th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
Where should I go for a good mani/pedi? - Claudia Mizrahi, Brooklyn, New York
Jax's Answer - I find it most serendipitous that you inquired to where you should have your fingers and toes beautified. My last venture ( Baby Doo Rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs) has taken flight and I'm in the preproduction stage of having my own Nail Saloon. You read right... saloon. I've hired a team of Korean mani/pedi attendants who not only have a way with an emery board, but also are raging alcoholics. Rest assured, my disturbingly inebriated staff will tend to your callouses, cuticles and peace of mind. Who doesn't want a lush with a razor shaving the dry skin off their heals. Jax's Nail Saloon also offers a special "Spa Pedicure" which includes unlimited shots of Soju(a distilled beverage native to Korea), a refreshing foot soak in a luxurious rose petaled bath of sulfuric acid and a drunk, unlicensed and blindfolded specialist.
Why did YOU cross the road? Brian M. Levy - Dallas, Texas
Jax's answer - Whenever I cross any real(or metaphysical)road, it is safe to assume that I'm being seduced to the other side by some noun(people, place or thing) that has a high probability of wreaking havoc on my mind, body and spirit. If the street for which I speak is heavily trafficked, I develop a deep empathy for Frogger.
Should I fake my orgasms? - Jeremy Berk - Los Angeles, California
Jax's Answer - I'll answer your inquiry with the same response should I ever receive this question - Wouldn't it be awesome to be locked in a storage closet (4-6 feet wide, and 24" in depth) with an angry mime?
This is the 15th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
Where should I go for a good mani/pedi? - Claudia Mizrahi, Brooklyn, New York
Jax's Answer - I find it most serendipitous that you inquired to where you should have your fingers and toes beautified. My last venture ( Baby Doo Rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs) has taken flight and I'm in the preproduction stage of having my own Nail Saloon. You read right... saloon. I've hired a team of Korean mani/pedi attendants who not only have a way with an emery board, but also are raging alcoholics. Rest assured, my disturbingly inebriated staff will tend to your callouses, cuticles and peace of mind. Who doesn't want a lush with a razor shaving the dry skin off their heals. Jax's Nail Saloon also offers a special "Spa Pedicure" which includes unlimited shots of Soju(a distilled beverage native to Korea), a refreshing foot soak in a luxurious rose petaled bath of sulfuric acid and a drunk, unlicensed and blindfolded specialist.
Why did YOU cross the road? Brian M. Levy - Dallas, Texas
Jax's answer - Whenever I cross any real(or metaphysical)road, it is safe to assume that I'm being seduced to the other side by some noun(people, place or thing) that has a high probability of wreaking havoc on my mind, body and spirit. If the street for which I speak is heavily trafficked, I develop a deep empathy for Frogger.
Should I fake my orgasms? - Jeremy Berk - Los Angeles, California
Jax's Answer - I'll answer your inquiry with the same response should I ever receive this question - Wouldn't it be awesome to be locked in a storage closet (4-6 feet wide, and 24" in depth) with an angry mime?
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