condoms!!!

it was a normal monday night. i was talking to caitlin online, watching the hills, window-shopping online, thinking about how people should wait to have sex until after marriage, and then this commercial shattered my world view:

SERIOUSLY? i remember the days when in order to see sex on tv i had to sneak downstairs on thursday nights and watch real sex on hbo, which was a little too real and not enough sex. 

anyway, i was inspired. to do some research. online.

there’s this dave chapelle sketch where the internet is a mall. all dave really wants to do is log on and check the score of the game, but in order to reach the site where the score is, he ends up first visiting all these other sites. in the mall, the equivalent is trying to get to a store at one end of the mall and being roped into visiting a bunch of other ones first. so in the internet mall, dave passes by a nameless bodega, whose sketchy proprietor (hat pulled down over his eyes) sidles up to dave, puts his arm around his shoulders and whispers, “yo, dude, want to increase the size of your penis?” moments later, once dave leaves the bodega, ron jeremy appears out of nowhere and propositions him with an invitation to watch lesbian twins doing whatever it is lesbian twins do (i hope it makes enough money to pay for therapy for, like, ever). next is a music “store” which offers free music — people pour out of the store clutching plain brown paper bags full of unmarked CDs. wah wah. 

anyway, back to my condom investigation. i often go online to read reviews of things — restaurants, clothing, beauty products, nightclubs, etc. and while i consider myself a fairly opinionated person, i’ve never actually written a review. i seriously thought about writing an unfavorable review of a hostel i stayed at in nice, france, but i don’t think i ever actually got around to it. i’m pretty sure that should i ever be motivated to write a review, it would only be because i was thoroughly infuriated by whatever i was reviewing. so anyway, i’m intrigued by people who log on and write favorable (or unfavorable) reviews of things. what kind of people are they? 

borrowing dave’s (we’re totes on a first name basis) analogy, i think online reviewers are those same outspoken strangers who spontaneously strike up candid (and usually fun) conversations in public places (check out line, drug store aisle, elevator, ladies’ room, etc.). like the middle-aged woman in dressing room of white house/black market who, upon over-hearing my tearful argument (via phone) with my mother regarding a high school graduation dress my mother said she knew would be inappropriately tight as soon as i had described it as “sort of” tight, said: “honey, just tell her you’re gonna have sex no matter what you wear.” 

anyway, that’s what i thought about while reading the reviews of SKYN condoms, which are evidently latex-free, although i did not catch that the first (or second?) time through the commercial. there’s nothing like condoms that makes people want share. no really, tell me about it. 

over an hour!: “This one is actually BETTER than latex! So thin and elastic that it feels like nothing is there at all and stays put for the duration (stayed for over an hour!). Completely flavorless as well! “

but that’s really a slow week for us: ”these are amazing. it feels like my fiancee is wearing nothing at all, and he says he cant feel it either. we have used these 1-2x a day for the past week and they have never broken.”

because an 85% success rate is much less scary than a 98.9%: “I had been using birth control for sometime and after having a couple of scares went to using spermicide as well still had a scare. Found these and decided to try them. They are wonderful. Almost feels like he is not wearing anything at all. Loving the feeling of it.”

but really, only if you like slyding: “For all thoes who like the slyding feeling and smooth feeling to put on you will love this condom the only con is that there is no ripples in it”

presumably, light penetration is also safe: “When I tried these condoms for the first time, it was like wearing nothing. The condom did not brake under heavy penetration and was lubricated just right. Im never switching to any other condom. It is truly the closest thing to wearing nothing!”

still, it IS a condom: “These are the only condoms we’ll use anymore. We’ve had other condoms break, but never these, and my boyfriend says they feel much better than latex condoms. Still not as good as bare backing, but if we put some lube inside they are pretty great!”

walls, huh? ”My boyfriend said these were actually better than the lifestyles ultra thin grey box. He says he can actually feel the walls of inside of me more.”

sensitive, large, exclusive… don’t threaten me with a good time. “Absolutely love this condom!!! I’m hooked. Very sensitive. Does fit larger men as well. I am exclusive to this product now.”

inner ridges and such: “I’m thinking the people giving bad reviews were under the influence of some sort. THESE WERE AMAZING. boyfriend bought these and I refuse to use anything else, except ultra thin in a pinch. these generate heat INCREDIBLY and I couldn’t tell he wore one. He said he could feel inner ridges and such inside of me more.”

there are no words: “THEY’RE GREAT! I’ve had a vasectomy so my wife and I definitely don’t need birth control but we use condoms regularly to eliminate the “drips” and also because wearing it is a bit of a turn on for both us. The Lifestyles Skins really feel closest to nothing at all. Transmit body heat better than latex and don’t dry out and require extra lube like latex. A definite winner and my permanent “go to” condom.”

just for the sake of full disclosure i should note that not ALL the reviews were positive, just the funny ones. 

in like a lion, out like a lamb

that is one of the [few] things i retained from third grade: the saying that march goes in like a lion and out like a lamb. i think it has something to do with the weather, in which case mrs. rooney knew her stuff, because it is FINALLY starting to feel vaguely like spring, and judging from my last post, it was definitely still winter on march 4th. one of the benefits of spring approaching is thunderstorms… we had a surprise one a few days ago, which was prefaced by some neato clouds:

i haven’t been doing anything interesting enough to justify not writing in my blog for almost a month, but these things, and by these things i mean my laziness, happen.

march was actually a pretty good month. i spent four days and five nights in san diego with caitlin and austin and it was just as much fun as i envisioned it being pre-trip in the miserableness that is winter in the northeast. i am straight up in love with the west coast. i don’t know when this happened — but the combination of more or less constant sunshine, palm trees, the ocean and cheap mexican food makes me unspeakably happy. i should note the conspicuous lack of drug-related murders makes california much more enticing than mexico, which also fits the previous description. anyway, i’ve pretty much decided i want to live there (the LA area specifically, though i wouldn’t be opposed to san francisco OR san diego, for that matter) at some point in life. while in san diego we went to the beach, visited the zoo, lay out by the pool, did some shopping, went out every night, hung out with austin’s friends, saw a few of my friends, and also sat around in front of the tv and ate just like we did back in the day when we were in college, and it was baller.

i got back from san diego on st. patrick’s day and rode the train home from the airport (without my ipod, which i’m assuming has now permanently immigrated to san francisco, where my layover was) with a bunch of blitzed NJ devils fans. i knew people were playing hockey again, but i had no idea enough people to fill an entire NJ transit train were still watching it. at one point, the conductor came over the loudspeaker and said: “now, i know that it’s st. patrick’s day and that y’all are havin’ a good time, but please keep the curse words and foul language to a minimum. there are commuters and families on this train who don’t need to hear that. pretend like your wife or your mother is in the car, and act accordingly. thank you.” not surprisingly, this admonition was met with loud, slurred protest from the back of my car. 

two days later i hopped the train into the city again to apartment/puppy sit for my cousin, who was going to florida for a wedding. and i have to say, that while my infatuation with new york has waned a bit, i still love the city and (excuse me while i cliche all over your computer) how full of possibility it is. 

on the job front, i continue to be gainfully employed, however precariously. as of now, my position lasts until the end of april, though there is a possibility it will last through may as well. as much as i would like a more permanent position in a place other than nj, i feel lucky to have any job at all, and while i am totally bored most of the time, occasionally i get the opportunity to sit in on (or even participate in) really interesting presentations/seminars/etc. 

for example, last week we had a consumer-focused presentation, wherein we learned about the skin care routine of the average consumer. apparently, there are approximately 21 occasions per week where women (and many men) use skincare products. 21 times per WEEK? it took a lot of tough self-reflection to get to this point, but i’m here. my name is jen, and i’m addicted to skin care. 21 times per WEEK? i probably get to 21 in three days, and that includes a sunday when i’m home and only washing my face once. 

this revelation about my product junky status really hit home when i got the chance to participate in a seminar about skin care products, more specifically a seminar about the emotional experience of using a skin care product. you didn’t know skin care was emotional? i mean, duh. what’s not surprising is that most people buy products based on right-brain (emotional) thinking — obviously advertising/packaging/copy has a lot to do with that, but what IS surprising is how the way a product feels directly affects our belief about whether or not it’s working and consequently how much we like it, and for the most part, the way a product feels has nothing whatsoever to do with how effective it is. anyway, we spent the whole morning washing our hands and arms with a number of different cleansers, and the afternoon rubbing lotion on our hands/arms/legs, and we had to talk at length about each product and how it felt (physically) and what about that feeling we liked or disliked. and it was legit fun. like, REALLY fun. then we talked about creating a product for a specific consumer and how we would make it FEEL for him/her so that he/she would like it. 

anyway, all of this had led me to the conclusion that i am now a skin care expert. i seriously might as well be a dermatologist/sales associate at sephora. so from now on i am occasionally going to impose my advice on my readers. i promise not to use this as a means to promote the company i [temporarily] work for — i will inevitably end up including them occasionally because some of them, quite frankly, are awesome, but i fully intend to promote all the competitive products i also use, including this one. 

which brings me to my first recommendation. cetaphil is great. it’s super gentle, has a nice consistency, and works (i.e. it cleans). i use it in the morning with a washcloth so i can carefully buff off any dry skin (instead of using a scrub every day, which is actually quite irritating). on the back it says you can rub it in and then wipe off (instead of rinsing off), but it doesn’t feel that great on your skin after a few minutes. it’s my belief that products like cetaphil are much better for you than products that are catered to a specific skin type (oily, dry, etc.), because those products have a whole lot of junk in them, most of which does more harm than good (or doesn’t do anything at all). 

this seemingly mundane skin care seminar also produced another personal revelation: i am immature. the participants in the seminar ranged in age from 22 to 35, and it’s a pretty cool, easy-going crowd. a couple have kids, a handful are married, but nevertheless it felt more like a group of my peers than anything else. until we started trying on the product, and people started talking about how it felt, and the countless opportunities for “that’s what she said” comments presented themselves, and i was the only one who looked up expectantly to make eye contact and found myself alone, all alone, in my juvenile perversity. 

examples:

“it was dry at first but then got wet really quickly!”

“how come yours is so thick?”

“rub it a little faster.”

“use more fingers!”

AHHH. the pain of missed opportunity. life’s hard.

snow day ’09

funny how an unexpected day off from work + new camera courtesy of your awesome brothers = newfound (albeit brief) appreciation of winter/snow. monday was pretty incredible. unbelievably, i actually had work to do that day, so i spent much of the morning and early afternoon sitting in my pjs on the couch working and watching no reservations with anthony bourdain. around lunchtime i got inspired to take abby out and play in the snow.

mmmm snow. 

after that i worked a little more, watched a little what not to wear, and then christian and jess came over and we went SLEDDING! obviously i did not take any pictures of that because i don’t actually WANT to lose/break my third camera in as many years, but needless to say the sledding was fantastic. we used the hill right outside the dining hall, a popular fac brat sledding haunt, although it was deserted around 3:30pm when we arrived. all the lville kids are currently taking exams, so we were also spared their fruitless efforts to sled down the hill with dining center trays. part of what made the whole activity so appealing was that i hadn’t gone sledding (there or anywhere else) since before high school, since lawrenceville had one snow day the entire time i was there, and i think i spent most of it sleeping. most of the snow had been packed down or frozen over by the time we got there, but the brown family childhood sleds (plus one boogie board) served us well, although i’m vaguely embarrassed that we called it quits after 45 minutes. i attribute this to our lack of appropriate attire — since snow pants are no longer a winter necessity (as i’ve said previously i have zero interest in spending upwards of $400 to strap my feet to some plastic and try-not-to-die down a hill), we wore sweatpants, rain boots with one layer of socks (huge mistake), fleece gloves which did nothing in the way of repelling water, etc. jess sported a hat and scarf, but i was hat-less as i refused to wear my dad’s atrocity of a fleece hat and none of my other hats are even remotely practical, and christian wore jeans, a sweatshirt and no gloves, because he’s a moron. 

after some cash cab (god DAMN i love daytime television), christian and jess went to buy wine and bread and i got started on dinner for the five of us (me + christian + jess + parents). even though i think giadda delaurentiis is irritating as hell for (1) being unreasonably skinny for a chef and (2) more importantly having no italian accent whatsoever except when loudly emphasizing italian words, she is probably an incredible chef, so i made one of her recipes (courtesy of the food network’s website). abby watched. 

Orzo with Sausage, Peppers & Tomatoes

 

Prep Time: 10 min

Inactive Prep Time: 20 min

Cook Time: 10 min 

(LIES. it took me like an hour and a half. ugh.)

 

Ingredients

 

• 1 red bell pepper
• 1 orange bell pepper
• 1 pound orzo pasta
• 3 cups chicken stock
• 3 cups water
• 1 tablespoon kosher salt
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 7 ounces (2 links) mild Italian turkey sausage, casings removed
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 2 plum tomatoes, chopped
• 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, optional
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 cup ricotta salata cheese, crumbled

Directions

Using tongs, place the bell peppers over a gas flame. Cook, turning occasionally, until the skins are charred on all sides, about 5 to 6 minutes. (Alternatively, place the peppers on a baking sheet and broil for 5 to 8 minutes, until charred.) Place the charred peppers in a medium bowl. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and allow the peppers to steam for 20 minutes. Under running water, peel away the charred skin from the peppers. Pat the peppers dry with paper towels. Remove the stem and seeds from the peppers and cut into 1/4-inch thick slices. Set aside.

In a medium saucepan, bring the chicken stock, water, and kosher salt to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until tender but still firm to the bite, stirring occasionally, about 8 to 10 minutes.

While the pasta is cooking: In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the turkey sausage and saute until cooked through, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add the bell peppers, tomatoes, and red pepper flakes, if using, and cook until heated through, about 2 minutes.

Drain the pasta, reserving about 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid, and transfer to a large serving bowl. Add the sausage mixture, 1 tablespoon of the parsley, and season with salt and pepper, to taste. Toss well to combine all ingredients, adding reserved cooking liquid, if needed, to loosen the pasta. Top with the ricotta salata and sprinkle with the remaining parsley. Serve.

i forgot to take a picture because by the time we ate it was practically 8pm and i was wasting away, but it looked like the one above. serially, guys. 

snow day ’09 was great. but i’m so ready for spring break ’09, i.e. four days and five nights with caitlin & austin in san diego. yesssss.

what does a gay horse eat?

oh HAAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!!!!

i realized today i hadn’t written in my pretty little blog in two weeks. it’s bedtime and i don’t have the time/energy to do a longer post that is thoughtful or entertaining, but i did see this today and wanted to share. not having seen most of the nominated movies, i don’t really have a strong opinion about the outcome of the oscars. i LOVED slumdog millionaire, and i’m thrilled it got so many awards, but i am also really anxious to see all of the nominated movies, especially milk and the reader. i genuinely enjoyed the entire ceremony, from hugh jackman’s ridiculousness to witty and/or awkward (and unscripted, jack black?) presenters, to the nominee tributes by previous award winners, and to, of course, the acceptance speeches. i think the most poignant part of the ceremony was dustin lance black’s acceptance speech

Oh my God. This was, um. This was not an easy film to make. First off, I have to thank Cleve Jones and Anne Kronenberg and all the real-life people who shared their stories with me. And, um, Gus Van Sant, Sean Penn, Emile Hirsch, Josh Brolin, James Franco, and our entire cast, my producers, Dan Jinks and Bruce Cohen, everyone at Groundswell and Focus, for taking on the challenge of telling this life-saving story. When I was 13 years old, my beautiful mother and my father moved me from a conservative Mormon home in San Antonio, Texas to California and I heard the story of Harvey Milk. And it gave me hope. It gave me the hope to live my life, it gave me the hope to one day live my life openly as who I am and that maybe even I could fall in love and one day get married. I want to thank my mom who has always loved me for who I am, even when there was pressure not to. But most of all, if Harvey had not been taken from us 30 years ago, I think he’d want me to say to all of the gay and lesbian kids out there tonight who have been told that they are less than by their churches or by the government or by their families that you are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value and that no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you and that very soon, I promise you, you will have equal rights, federally, across this great nation of ours. Thank you, thank you, and thank you God for giving us Harvey Milk.

in his acceptance speech for best actor later on in the show, sean penn alluded to the protestors outside the building while stressing the necessity for equal rights for all americans. i keep thinking about those kids that black was speaking to — the kids at home watching the oscars with their parents or by themselves or with friends who secretly (or perhaps openly) know they are different and are eaten away by the unspoken fear that this difference is something sinister and something wrong, shameful. it’s easy to forget that being marginalized is not just about hate crimes and protests and disgusting words (or funny jokes) — it’s also, if not more so, about the psychological burden of being made to feel different in a thousand different ways.

23 things…

for 23 years.

1) i caused mad problems the first month of my life. my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck, so they had to take me out with forceps so i wouldn’t strangle myself. wah wah. two weeks later, i came down with pneumonia, so i had to go back in the hospital and sleep in an oxygen tent for a week. 

2) on the night my brothers were born, our neighbor slept over at our house so my dad could be with my mom at the hospital. i insisted that our neighbor stay in my room, but i refused to let her sleep in my bed, so she slept on the floor. shortly thereafter, i decided to become un-potty-trained in protest of my brothers’ arrival.

3) despite my previous behavior, the same neighbor wanted me to be the flower girl in her wedding. there was another flower girl too, who was a few years older. before the ceremony, we were told over and over by various people (i.e. my mother) that we had to be quiet during the ceremony: no talking, no whispering, nothing. we walked down the aisle distributing flower petals in our wake, then sat down near the altar and apparently amused ourselves putting flowers in each other’s hair. at one point, the groom was super nervous, so the bride leaned over to whisper something reassuring to him, at which point i, realizing the ceremony rules had been breached, stood up and yelled: “SHHHH!!! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK.”  

4) i took ballet lessons for 3 years because i wanted to wear one of the silk skirts that the older ballet dancers wore. i got shafted with a tutu every year. i had a crush on my ballet teacher, so i decided to get my hair cut short like hers, and ended up being mistaken for my brothers’ “big brother” by some dumb bitch outside of ikea. 

5) i was born in griswold, a dorm for sophomore and junior boys, and lived there until i was two, when i moved into stanley, a sophomore and junior girls’ dorm, where my parents were the first housemasters when lawrenceville went co-ed. when i was six, we moved into one of the brand new faculty houses the school built.

6) i didn’t learn to swim until i was 7, despite an abundance of swim lessons and the support/disbelief/veiled criticism of my parents. i basically just didn’t want to, until i saw a family friend, two years my junior, puttering around the shallow end, and i realized it was totally ridiculous that i didn’t know how to swim, so i learned.

7) pond guck (the green/brown/black vegetation at the bottom of ponds) scares the shit out of me. i can’t even swim over it, let alone touch it. 

8)  i love new jersey and couldn’t have asked for a better place to grow up, but most of my fondest childhood memories are from new england. both of my parents grew up there, so when i was little we spent a good chunk of every summer with family in cape cod and maine, and we still go to the cape every summer and see family in portland and boston at least once a year. i credit new england for my love of: lobster, scallops, shrimp, sailing, rocky beaches, periwinkles, skipping stones (or trying), motor boats, hammocks, BBQ, afternoon tea, and being near the ocean. 

9) my dad’s extended family owns land on a remote (ha) bay in maine. my grandpa and his brother and their father built the cabin, and to this day it has no running water (there’s a well) or electricity (kerosene lamps and a gas stove and fridge). and… an outhouse. there’s a dock, and a cliff that overlooks the bay. i can only take the rusticity (read: lack of plumbing) for a few days, but it’s one of my favorite places in the world. 

10) at the end of fifth grade, my dad won a teaching award and was granted a sabbatical for half the year. inspired by our family friends who had found themselves in a similar position the previous year, my parents took us to england for three months: august, september, october. we stayed in cornwall for two weeks in august, then moved to a small town called witney, which was about a half hour outside of oxford. my brothers and i went to school there for two months, and i think i was just the right age — old enough to remember it well but young enough to not over-think the whole experience while i was there. princess diana died a few weeks after we arrived. 

11) thanks to my dad and trenton thunder, i am a loyal, enthusiastic and totally uninformed red sox fan. i really like basketball and suspect i would like football if i understood it better, but i have yet to declare loyalty for any team. i am leaning toward the giants, though. 

12) i went to public school through sixth grade, then switched to a private day school for seventh and eighth so i could be “prepared” for lawrenceville. i hated it, mostly because it was middle school and i was embarking on a two-year ride on the angst express, but also because i was ashamed that my family wasn’t rich. because, you know, being middle class is really hard.

13) in eighth grade, i watched a monologue i wrote be performed on a broadway stage, just before a production of rent.

14) i read catcher in the rye in eighth grade and it made me want to be a writer. i re-read it at least once a year, and every time i get something new out of it and look at holden a little differently. i am similarly obsessed with/in awe of nine stories, franny and zooey (which i always thought was pronounced zoo-y) and raise high the roofbeam, carpenters.

15) i spent 9 weeks in alicante, spain during my sophomore year in high school. it was my first time away from home for more than a few days at a time, and it was utterly terrifying, and there were definitely things i would change if i could do it over (like speak spanish?), but it was amazing.

16) when i’m not eating, i am probably thinking about food. i don’t understand people who “forget” to eat a meal. i’m an equal opportunity eater except when it comes to meat –i love chicken, beef, some pork and lamb/beef kebabs, but most other kinds make me want to boot.

17) i love driving but don’t like being a passenger most of the time. i consider myself a pretty good driver, but i’m probably mediocre at best. 

18) ways to my heart: compliments by proxy, vanilla/chocolate twist frozen yogurt, and belly laughs (at something i said, obviously, i don’t give a shit if you think someone else is funny).

19) i’m really good at mimicking accents doing character voices, but i have a horrible singing vice. unfortunately for my family/former roommates/people who ride in my car, i love to sing. 

20) i’m terrified by heights and first-floor bedrooms. 

21) i have fat toes.

22) one day, i would like the reason/opportunity to punch someone in the face. preferably a stranger, but beggars can’t be choosers, i guess. 

23)  i just recently stopped drinking soda, but i anticipate a fountain diet coke in my future. 

 

and one for good luck!

24) in theory, i hate this shit and think it’s silly, narcissistic and self-indulgent. in practice… wah wah.

michael phelps = a disgrace to american athleticism

fyi: definitely not his first time. boy hits the pipe like a pro. 

some headlines from the past few days:

phelps: marijuana scandal “not what my mom wanted”

kellogg’s dumps michael phelps for smoking pot!

students, faculty react to phelps’ marijuana use

phelps learns lessons, talks future

phelps and the illusion of perfection

i mean… if I were michael phelps, i think i’d need a bong hit every once in a while too. i don’t really make a habit of feeling sorry for successful famous people, but i can’t help but feel a little sorry for athletes like phelps, who was probably unprepared for this level of fame/recognition (which doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying it). it’s not like sports are akin to something like acting, which necessitates an audience. plenty of people play sports because they enjoy the athleticism in and of itself, but nobody gets into acting because they really like delivering monologues to the ceiling above the bath tub. obviously, some athletes are in love with themselves, but my point is that athleticism is not, by definition, narcissistic/self-indulgent, but acting is (i can say that, as an aspiring actress with little talent). i’m sure once you get to the professional level of sports you have to be pretty into yourself, but you can get that far without any real contemplation of, or desire for, fame. i do, however, feel bad for some celebrities, including britney and lilo, who got into the performance industry and courted fame way before they had any real understanding of what that would entail, and now they can’t go anywhere without a bunch of fat dudes in t-shirts with yellow sweat stains shoving cameras in their faces. 

but at least everyone has given up on lilo and brit as role models — i think a lot of people either anticipated or enjoyed, in a vindictive sort of way, their very public mistakes and/or meltdowns. but phelps was, up until a few days ago, enjoying an enduring reign of being america’s [very masculine] sweetheart. attractive, nice, looks like your next door neighbor + superhuman six pack, doesn’t sound like a moron when he opens his mouth but doesn’t sound like a princeton grad either, and goodness gracious he worked so darn hard to be where he at! then the poor guy goes to visit one of the 300 girls who offers him a bj every day, and one of her asshole friends who doesn’t know how to swim takes a picture of phelps ripping a bong and then sells it to a british tabloid. and now phelps has to bend over backwards, waxing philosophical about his gargantuan error in judgment, when in fact there are much more interesting/newsworthy things going on in the world, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s business that michael phelps wants to smoke a bowl three and a half years before the next olympics.

the most entertaining part of this so-called scandal is how articles cite that phelps is part of a newly formed anti-doping coalition for olympian athletes, which obviously refers to performance-enhancing drugs, as if to suggest this adds much more weight to his shameful crime. anyone who even SUGGESTS that condemning the use of steroids while smoking weed is hypocritical needs to sit down, smoke a j, and watch half baked, because they obviously have no idea what they are talking about, and they DEFINITELY have never smoked a j and tried to go swimming. word on the street is, it feels a hell of a lot like drowning. 

this isn’t exactly going to keep me up tonight, because when it comes down to it, not smoking for the next decade is a small price to pay for the career phelps has, but can people stop talking about it already? where are our PRIORITIES? there is so much going on in the country and all over the world. jessica simpson is FAT, for god’s sake!

is this real life?

abby’s vet prescribed vicodin for abby one summer, because when she was younger she used to get agitated by fourth of july fireworks and shit all over the place. that summer, my parents were on a trip somewhere, gabe was at camp, and i was at a concert, so nat was in charge of administering the drug. six vicodin later, abby was weaving around the kitchen bumping into people, chairs and walls. it was so hard to watch, because you knew she was out of it and felt confused and helpless. but it was also REALLY FUNNY.

other things that are funny:

my blog has a stats page where i can see how many hits i get per day, as well as some other info. don’t worry, i can’t see any information about who looks at my blog and how many times, so for those of you who feel stalker-esque, or those of you who claim to read often but never do, your secret’s safe with the internet. but what my stats page DOES tell me, is how many people link to my blog after searching for something in a search engine. and, by some crazy-awesome technology, it also tells me what the person searched for in order for my blog to show up in their list of hits. here are some of the inexplicable best… i swear i am not making this up:

- vaccuumed boob

- episode poughkeepsie “law and order” -v

- cockroach in bed poop

- women geting fuked at kork [sic]

- cockroach poop

- babysitting online games and falling in

- how much do cockroaches poop

- sexy pap smear stories

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