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Thursday, September 30, 2004

I'm at Verb right now with a chai and an iBook and Bush is a moron

The debate is playing on the radio at Verb. In a possible Freudian slip, Bush just said:

"I've been fighting for proliferation the entire time."

And now he's talking about how we shouldn't join the ICC because "Americans could be prosecuted." You know, like the ones who commit war crimes. Apparently prosecuting them just "isn't in America's self interest."

Feast on figs and halal chickens! Buy detective novels in Urdu!

Here's a new picture by Gary Winter. I've put up three new photo galleries recently, and more will be up when I get the time. But, really, this is a nice picture, but please just scroll down and send some money to the lady in Pakistan.

You know, speaking of the lady in Pakistan, the journalist said something about wanting to assure people who donate money that the funds will go to the school that she started. And I'm thinking, oh please, I don't care.

In fact, I would really like it if she would take my money and get herself the Muslim equivalent of a latte and a nice manicure. Buy a gilt-inlaid Quran! A silk-lined burqua! I don't care. Jesus. (Well, not Jesus, actually). Take the money.

you must be using oil of olay!

On a similiar inappropriate t-shirt note, the other day I saw a Hispanic woman, about 30 years old, walking through East Harlem in a bright red t-shirt that said:

son of a beach
and still in the swim
at 70!

Maybe she's a thrift store shopper who just didn't care what the shirt said ... or else she actually just can't read that much English, and figured she'd take the risk anyway.

Or, she's got one bitchin' sense of humor.

remember that Lionel Ritchie song "Hello... is it me you're looking for?"

In the West Village today, I saw a fat little blind girl walking down the street with a white cane, being led by an older woman. The little girl was wearing a t-shirt that had a picture of a license plate and said:

state of

What kind of cruel joker dresses this kid?

p.s. - Lionel, you really don't want to end sentences with prepositions, or use an "it" with no antecedent. The line really should be "Hello, am I the one for whom you are looking?"

my writing class is, itself, fiction

Today I booked it downtown to get to the first session of my writing class on time. It was supposed to be 11-2, and when I found the address, it turned out to be an elementary school. No problem there; Gotham Writers Workshop often rents space from schools and other facilities. However, 11am on Thursday is the middle of the schoolday; there was no writing class.

I left, puzzled. On my way back to the train, I saw a Gotham box on the street: brilliant! I picked up a catalog and discovered:

- the class is Tuesday, not Thursday
- it's at another location entirely
- it doesn't start until next week

I have no idea how I could have made so many errors simultaneously. I'm looking for my confirmation letter so I can try to disclaim responsibility for at least one of those errors.

jesus fucking h. fucking christ. please donate money.

The Op-Ed Sentenced to Be Raped appeared in the NYTimes yesterday (requires free registration to read). Here is an excerpt below. Holy fucking shit.

Usually we journalists write about rogues, but Mukhtaran Bibi could not be more altruistic or brave, as the men who gang-raped her discovered....

In June 2002, the police say, members of a high-status tribe sexually abused one of Ms. Mukhtaran's brothers and then covered up their crime by falsely accusing him of having an affair with a high-status woman. The village's tribal council determined that the suitable punishment for the supposed affair was for high-status men to rape one of the boy's sisters, so the council sentenced Ms. Mukhtaran to be gang-raped.

As members of the high-status tribe danced in joy, four men stripped her naked and took turns raping her. Then they forced her to walk home naked in front of 300 villagers.

In Pakistan's conservative Muslim society, Ms. Mukhtaran's duty was now clear: she was supposed to commit suicide.... But instead of killing herself, Ms. Mukhtaran testified against her attackers and propounded the shocking idea that the shame lies in raping, rather than in being raped. The rapists are now on death row, and President Pervez Musharraf presented Ms. Mukhtaran with the equivalent of $8,300 and ordered round-the-clock police protection for her.

Ms. Mukhtaran, who had never gone to school herself, used the money to build one school in the village for girls and another for boys - because, she said, education is the best way to achieve social change. The girls' school is named for her, and she is now studying in its fourth-grade class....

She has had to buy food for the police who protect her, as well as pay some school expenses. So, she said, "I've run out of money." Unless the schools can raise new funds, they may have to close.

Meanwhile, villagers say that relatives of the rapists are waiting for the police to leave and then will put Ms. Mukhtaran in her place by slaughtering her and her entire family.

So, I found a place in the Forums on the Times where the journalist tells how you can donate money. He writes:

I don’t have great faith in the Pakistani postal system. So I’m arranging another route to get reader checks to Mukhtaran Bibi –I’m going to DHL them to an interpreter in the provincial city two hours away, Multan, and he’ll hand-carry them to Mukhtaran. I’ll cover the costs, so the donations will go 100 percent to Mukhtaran and her schools.... You can make the checks out to Mukhtaran Bibi (DON”T MAKE THE CHECKS OUT TO ME!) and mail them to me, and I’ll get them to her. My address is:
Nicholas Kristof
The New York Times, op-ed, 10th floor
229 West 43rd Street
New York, NY 10036

So, please do that. I mean, I've been giving money to mariachi bands on the subway. I'm sure a few bucks goes a long way in Pakistan.

on one episode of Star Trek: TNG, some aliens wanted to clone Riker and he replied "That would diminish me in ways you cannot even imagine"

My cell phone died today -- it won't take a charge no matter how long it's plugged in or to what outlet. I went to Best Buy, where I have a maintenance plan, and they tried to look me up in the computer. They couldn't find me by phone number, so I asked if they could just look me up by name.

"The database is for the whole country," said the customer service lady, "so we get like 300 results."

"I have a really unusual last name," I said.

So she typed it in and I expected what usually happens when someone types in D-Z-I-U-R-A -- they look back up and say "Jennifer?"

Instead, she reads out an address that totally isn't mine. And then another. And another. There were FOUR Jennifer Dziuras in their database. I mean, there are usually NO other Dziuras in the phone book, much less Jennifer Dziuras. Now, there not only exist FOUR Jennifer Dziuras, but FOUR Jennifer Dziuras who bought cell phones at Best Buy.

I find it easier to believe that I have multiple personalities and have been squatting, Fight-Club style, in abandoned buildings around the city and opening multiple cell phone accounts with those addresses, than to believe in the existence of so many other Jennifer Dziuras.

The first rule of Jenisfamous is you don't talk about Jenisfamous.

does anyone want any stickers?

If you want to stick stickers on stuff (without getting me in trouble via acts of pernicious vandalism), send me an email and I'll mail you some stickers.

Good places to stick stickers are in bars where there are already stickers for bands everywhere, and on old posters for the Republican Convention.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

the human stain of the MTA

I. A few days ago, I was crocheting on the subway, and the older lady near me asked what I was making, and I said it was a scarf, and that I only know how to make scarves. And she insisted that I get a crocheting book and follow the patterns and it's not that hard, and she went on to tell me she had learned some patterns from a book and had made eight of "these things ... on tables ... with pineapples on them."

"Placemats?" I said.

Yes, she agreed. She was depressed because she had broken up with her boyfriend, so she just kept making placemats.

II. Today on the platform at 125th St, an older man approached me and politely said "Excuse me." He looked reasonably well-kempt, and I thought he was going to ask about where the train went. Instead, he said "You're so beautiful. Such a beautiful lady." I thanked him and looked away, and shifted my body position to indicate that the conversation was over. "Excuse me," he said. Oh, I'm thinking -- that was just a prelude to asking directions. I turn back. "You're such a beautiful lady" he says again. And then about five more times. And then he grabs my hand and asks for some change.

On the train, a passenger standing in front of me held something out at eye-level -- an open bottle of hand sanitizer. She told me that man was crazy, and I shouldn't be so trusting.

I cupped my hands and she squirted sanitizer into them.

III. I always want to do pullups on that bar that runs down the middle of the train. One late night, I was in a car populated only by me and several MTA employees in jumpsuits. I was staring at the bar so intently that one of the workers asked if I saw something funny, and I explained about the pullups, and he suggested I go ahead. So, with everyone watching, I got up, did a pullup -- and promptly hit my head on the top of the car.

In order to save face, I did a couple more pullups, sat down, and privately lamented my new headache.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Drawing group in DUMBO - see me there on Oct 27

I will be modeling for Fred Harper's drawing group in DUMBO on October 27, 7-10pm. The cost for artists is $10. The group is every Wed. night, including tomorrow (but cancelled Oct. 6).

To get on the mailing list, and for directions, questions, etc., email

I'm so little and sticky (for real this time!)

I got my stickers in the mail today! I can say that is both slow and cheap, or both cheap and slow. It is, however, an entirely acceptable tradeoff for being able to buy small quantities of stickers for amounts as low as $20.

I must say, I think I pixellate rather well.

site updates!

The Modeling section has new pics!

Vintage lingerie photos are in!

I've received the first installment of photos from the vintage lingerie fashion show and am working on putting them up on the site. Here's a tiny sneak preview!

Go see my roommate's play! It has a warning about "Nudity and Coarse Language"!

Eternity: Time Without End
a play by Duncan Pflaster

When eleven diverse people come separately to a secluded beach looking for a rumored fountain of youth, they find more than they bargained for. Duncan Pflaster's entertaining and provocative new play explores issues of community, homosexuality, childhood, innocence, and sacrifice.

"...Most of Duncan Pflaster's work has a Thornton Wilderesque quality to it. (...) This author is truly among the current undiscovered great off-off Broadway writers."
- G.S. Bowen, "Hi-Drama" (Manhattan Cable Show)

Playing Oct 7-19. Times/info/tickets at Cross-Eyed Bear Productions

Plaster: Stickiness without End

I have a roommate named Duncan Pflaster who is a playwright whose play I will post about in a minute.

About ten minutes ago, however, someone buzzed my door. Our buzzer doesn't work, so I looked out the window and saw a delivery man with a package. Thinking that this might be something I had ordered, I threw on some decent clothes and ran down four flights of stairs to catch the delivery man before he went away.

On the way down, I swooshed around the corner -- where a workman was re-plastering the hallway after the building was torn up during a spate of electrical rewiring -- and put my hand in wet plaster. It was gross.

I got the package and it turned out to be for Duncan. I brought the package upstairs and decided that now, the official party line is "Eww, now I'm covered in Pflaster!"

Monday, September 27, 2004

my mom deserves her own Yahoo fan group

"You can visit any time you want. Dad is off EVERY Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Actually, your dad is a little off all the time."

Sunday, September 26, 2004

the hippest new t-shirt that you can't get

Today on the subway I saw three cute Japanese girls faced with just one available seat. After unsuccessfully trying to convince one another to take it and all of them politely and repeatedly declining, they settled the matter in the most equitable way possible: Rock Paper Scissors. Yes, really!

The winner sheepishly took her seat, and they all giggled.

I smiled to see that there is still joy and innocence in the world, and it wears fashionable shoes on the L train.

I commented to a guy I met at the fashion show that this is a model for solving all the world's problems, and we resolved to make t-shirts that say:

Three Japanese Girls for President

Saturday, September 25, 2004

what a girl wants recently published the winners of its bad pickup line contest, and I'm still snickering over:

Were both your parents retarded? Because you seem like a special girl.

On an unrelated note... the vintage lingerie fashion show is tomorrow!

We had a rehearsal tonight. My outfits have been changed a bit -- for the first one, I'm wearing an incredibly tight gray leotard over fishnets, with a black waist cincher over top, and red elbow gloves. It's very Cabaret.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

"Money makes the world go round wrong" - de la Vega

Last week I visited James de la Vega's store on 104th and Lex and bought a t-shirt. (De le Vega is a street artist known for his whimsical paintings and phrases on walls and streets in East Harlem).

James seemed a little bemused at my presence, but when I asked about a painting I liked, he gave me a greeting card of the painting, which was nice. I also got one of these "De La Vega for Senate" cards.

Everybody loves the t-shirt. It's the one with two goldfish jumping out of their bowls to meet each other.

put the lime in the coconut and call me in the morning

After hearing from yet another medical student on the online personals, I was prompted to reflect on my (universally odd) attempts to date members of the medical profession.

I suppose, for the most part, I'm used to dating people in some kind of business-related field where it makes sense to say things like "You are your own brand!" When you date a doctor or a teacher or a member of the Peace Corps, that's out the window. Such a man has a pay grade and possibly a union; he doesn't need his own website.

The first medical student I went out with had once been a Mennonite, had lost his religion at a Mennonite college, and had since started using the online personals to meet up with couples for, shall I say, non-Mennonite activities.

The last medical student I went out with was a tremendous literalist. His ability to understand subtlety, irony, sarcasm, or implication approached absolute zero. So, during our first date, he explained very clearly that he wanted to find a life partner as soon as possible, buy a boat, retire to the Mediterranean, and have his wife have five to six of his children on this boat in the middle of the Mediterranean.

Now, that's a little out there, but if you know exactly what you want, more power to you for putting it out there on a first date and letting the cards fall where they may. However, a somewhat less literal person might have then gauged his date's facial expression and then decided whether to continue the maritime fantasy or move on to a new topic of discussion.

Instead, he then proceeded to ask me point-blank if I would like to have children, if I would like to have five or six of them, and if I would like to have them on a boat.

For the record, I told him I didn't think it was a good idea to mix morning sickness with boating.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

a dash of endorphins, a pinch of serotonin

You know, they have a patch for everything now -- smoking, birth control, estrogen, testosterone, all kinds of things.

I saw an online ad today that showed a woman wearing a patch and said "Imagine seeing more results in a week than you have in a lifetime of dieting."

But I read this, on first pass, as "a lifetime of dating."

What would a dating patch do, I wonder? What drug would it deliver, what unintended consequences would it prevent?

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

the williamsburg spelling bee

Last night I competed in the Williamsburg Spelling Bee at Pete's Candy Store. I had seen a flyer for it in the Girdle Factory building near Verb.

I was contestant number twelve. My best friend Jenn came to watch.

Round one I spelled "tonsillitis." Everyone commented that I was very fast and confident. Contestant number one, a librarian, commented that he always thought there was just one "l."

Round two I spelled "panickiness."

We (the contestants) start to notice that the words aren't all that hard. Also, the guy reading them is having a terrible time pronouncing the words, so much so that the audience members often shout out corrections. The organizers were clearly unprepared for the crowd of (mostly sober) geeks that showed up.

Round three, we're down to maybe six people, so now instead of each contestant spelling one word and sitting down, each contestant stays up until they miss a word, or get fifteen right, in which case we'd have a runoff.

Contestant number one gets fifteen right. A lot of other people miss words.

I go up and get fifteen words right, finally getting out on the word "bagasse," which the announcer pronounced something like "be-gas" and which means "to beat sugar out of sugarcane." (I'm not protesting at all -- that's a good spelling bee word!)

So then we have a runoff between me and contestant number one. We alternate back and forth spelling words until somebody misses one (however, if the first person misses their word and then the second person misses theirs as well, then you'd both go again so as not to be biased against whoever goes first).

I get a word that sounds like "ax-il-LOT-al." I ask for a definition. It has to do with larvae. A biology word. Hmmn. So I guess. I think I probably guessed "axillotal."

Turns out the word is "axolotl"!

Jesus, what the hell kind of word is that? (Mexican, it turns out). But, again, a good spelling bee word! Fair enough. So I wait for the other guy to get his word. Since mine was so hard, there's a good chance he'll get his wrong, and then we'll go again.

His word is:


No shit. The audience actually booed and demanded that he get a new word. The announcer held firm. Contestant number twelve, of course, spelled "bereavement" with no trouble and won. The organizers explained that they hadn't realized that people who could actually spell would turn out for the spelling bee -- they thought it would just be drunk people who were already in the bar. They apologized.

Then we all hung out for a bit. Contestant number one, it turns out, is a librarian. I explained that I'm an SAT teacher. The guy reading the words was flabbergasted. One of the other contestants (Meghan, in third place) and I suggested having former winners (who won't be competing again until the finals in six months) come back and read the words. So I will be doing this during the next round, on October 4.

And then in six months, I'll be in the finals. I'm so into this, you'd think it was the seventh grade. I always wanted to be in a spelling bee. I mean, I'm the kind of person who turns out when you put posters all over town advertising a spelling bee for adults.

I'd like to be a good sport about "axolotl" versus "bereavement," but, unfortunately, I'm just a fundamentally flawed human being. I'm not even blaming original sin. It's just me.

Anyway, if you would like to compete next time, or just come see me read vocabulary words with the greatest of ease:

Williamsburg Spelling Bee
October 4
7:30-9:00pm (signup at 6:30)
Pete's Candy Store
709 Lorimer St, Williamsburg

Incidentally, according to pet-care websites, "A pair of Axolotls will do well in a tank measuring 60 x 30x 30 cm. The best substrate is a 5 cm-deep layer of medium-grade aquarium gravel. Since Axolotls are messy underwater feeders, it is best to have a power filter installed to keep the water clean. Axolotls will eat earthworms and the occasional maggot, mealworm cricket, small fish, or strip of lean raw meat."

Sunday, September 19, 2004

I remember a high school teacher who thought the Industrial Revolution happened during the '20s, when the novel "Babbit" was set

So, I did the photoshoot for the Faces of Change calendar. I spent about two hours having hair and makeup done, and ended up modeling an $80,000 necklace. I was shot entirely from the shoulders up; "we want you for your eyes!" they said (but not in that horror-movie way).

After that, I modeled a forties-style red satin dress alongside a beautiful Asian model (and college student) named Jane. The photographer looked at us and said, erroneously, "You two look just like flappers!" We both gave him funny looks, because he was clearly two decades off; it would be like if you thought the Sexual Revolution happened during Prohibition, or that legwarmers were in fashion during the Civil War (when "Flashdance" came out!)

His reply was a quite condescending "You girls know what flappers are, don't you?"

Um, yes.

Funny, at "real" modeling events, I usually end up finding the one other girl with a book and hanging out. There's sanity in numbers.

it's not exactly a vow of celibacy, but a vow nonetheless

So, I've vowed not to buy any more books until I write one.

That certainly doesn't mean I can't read books -- an easy task considering how many books I've bought and haven't read yet.

But it does mean that I spent a wistful ten minutes sitting on a footstool in a bookstore in Williamsburg perusing an Italo Calvino novel I'd really like to have.

what voter participation drives need are more bullet bras

My bestest friend Molly Crabapple is in a pinup-model contest. Please visit this page to vote for her. Thank you!

This beehive deserves your vote!

There is a crack, a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in

"The heart goes on cooking, like a shish kabob."

I love Leonard Cohen.

It's even better now that I live in New York and know where the Chelsea Hotel is.

Friday, September 17, 2004

i can't think when other people are rapping

I suspect that people who are permanently attached to their iPods are only piping music into their heads to compensate for impending depression and the spiraling emptiness of their thoughts when confronted with silence.

When did it become necessary for everyone to have their own personal soundtrack at all times? Why can't we just participate in society?

If you're using your iPod to compensate for loneliness, you should consider that maybe there's one special person out there for you, and you already passed them by, say, on the train, and neither of you noticed each other because you were mid-White Stripes and they were mid-Al Green.

Just saying.

targeted marketing gone very, very weird

So, when I created my YahooGroup, I had to select a category, and I think I ended up selecting "Celebrities: Women." (I know I'm not a celebrity, but there wasn't a category for "fiction writer pinup girls").

Yahoo, of course, makes money by feeding targeted advertising to people visiting particular groups. So you might expect to see ads on my group having to do with female celebrities. Instead, they seem to just be feeding ads that have the keyword "female."

So, along with an ad for an interracial dating site, they put this ad on my group page:

Have a Baby Girl: GenSelect is the only scientifically validated kit, developed by a team of physicians, to harness clinically proven factors which effectively allow you to determine the gender of your baby.

I'm not sure that this is a strong interest among visitors to my group. Is the idea "I like Jen so much I'd like to have a baby girl who will someday grow up to be like her"? Or "I want to breed with Jen! In a very specific manner!"

Yeah, either way, that's fucked up.

voluptuous women in little feathered hats

Today I went to the fitting for the vintage lingerie fashion show I'm doing in Williamsburg next Saturday.

I have two outfits, one with a waist cincher and fishnets, and one with a sort of Cabaret-style feathered leotard with matching hat. Tres fabulous, all around.

When I was being fitted in this last outfit, the store owner told me to "eat as much as possible!" before the show next week.

This, of course, is just the opposite of typical fashion show preparations. We're wearing lots of '40s and '50s items, so it makes sense. But it's certainly true that you can't please everyone at once.

In this case, I can please myself with some bread pudding and a bucket of fried chicken.

i am a size queen for espresso

Double espressos are just not big enough.

If you ever spot me on a subway platform finishing my double espresso before the train even arrives and then LICKING THE CUP, well, that's why double espressos aren't big enough.

I have been immortalized in a $200 thong

I recently received some photos and a DVD from the lingerie fashion show I did for Jillian Sherry couture lingerie in July.

I have now seen what my own ass looks like when I'm walking away! This is a new and mesmerizing experience.

The photos will be up on the website soon (maybe tonight!). I currently don't know how to edit a DVD so as to post stills or short clips, but maybe I'll figure that out soon.

Here's a sneak preview photo!

nice girl needs some good drilling ... oh, ha, i crack myself up

I bought a pullup bar to be installed in a doorway in my apartment, but I don't have an electric drill, nor do I particularly know how to use one. If anyone can help, let me know! I want to keep my biceps in an Athena-like state of gloriousness.

MTA trivia

Today my monthly metrocard stopped working; in every turnstile, it just said "swipe again!" over and over. The card was a little bent from carrying it in my back pocket.

So I took my card up to the booth and the guy ran it through some sort of Metrocard-flattening machine! They have that! Then it worked fine.

Thursday, September 16, 2004


This is a sacrilege!

I will enact my wrath upon those who have done this, and the rivers will be dark with the blood of their firstborn, and there will be much weeping and lamentation among their women!

Seriously, I want my fucking espresso.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

like all the items in school lunch formed together in a modern art sculpture

I am currently eating a fried plantain stuffed with meat and peas. I actually wanted the battered and fried (non-stuffed) plantain, but there were language difficulties.

It's not bad, really, but I was trying to imagine how I'd describe this item to someone unfamiliar with the cuisine of the neighborhood and, well, can you imagine telling someone you're eating a "sloppy joe banana"?

my inbox is a veritable Spoon River Anthology of characters, just not dead

I have gotten some of the weirdest stuff in my inbox today. I have a grad student in ethics visiting me from Cambridge this weekend. And I should have some new photos by (the inimitable) Eric Martin maybe next week.

On a bright note, I also heard from a fellow model I met at a Maxim casting call -- it was great, I remember her trying to explain to a casting director that she has a degree in ecology, and about a hundred women all around us are adjusting their boobs for the camera. I try to avoid modeling gigs that confuse work with partying. "Getting on the VIP list to parties" is not a job perk in my book.

Also, Molly Crabapple turned 21 yesterday! Not that she hasn't been posing naked for years already, the little tart ;) I'm lugging around her present until I get to see her.

Monday, September 13, 2004

tryin' to get over, tryin' to get over...

When I walked into my salon today, they were playing "Superfly." I was totally digging this salon full of Asian women getting down to Curtis Mayfield. Goddamn, why couldn't I have been around to remember the seventies?

Incidentally, I am now pictured in a poster in the window of this salon. You can see this at i Salon, 14th St at 3rd Ave. (However, I felt that my blog would be more enhanced by the inclusion of the Superfly poster than by yet another picture of me).

If you happen to need a new hairstylist, I highly recommend the place. Doris is my lady. You can call her at (212) 505-0537.

eating for two, shaving for one

Manhattan is currently full of pregnant women. They're everywhere, popping out of the bottoms of their t-shirts, walking the city streets in their comfortable sandals. What is it with September being a great month to be ready to drop?

Strangely, Manhattan is also full of women with shaved heads (or very, very short haircuts). You'd think you'd see this at the beginning of the summer, not the end. Sometimes it looks good, sometimes not.

I have yet, however, to see a pregnant woman with a shaved head.

yes, everyone on the online personals thought "secretary" was a very good movie

I keep renting Netflix movies and not making time to watch them, which is partially a function of being single: I don't like to watch movies by myself.

And every month, I pay my $23 Netflix fee, and occasionally I do the math and figure out how much I'm actually paying per movie, and then I try to not think about that. I mean, it might be cheaper to actually just go to the theater when I feel like it, but then again, you can't see "Purple Rain" in the theater.

The queue is the real reason I can't cancel, though. Netflix stores my list of the next 150 or so movies I want to watch. Somebody had better start watching them with me, because the list just keeps getting longer.

if you put me in the catalog, i'll call it even

It is fucking impossible to properly place a Victoria's Secret order online. I would have bought what I wanted in the store, but I went to FOUR stores in Manhattan and they didn't have it in my size, and at the last Victoria's Secret, the saleslady called all the other stores in Manhattan, and they didn't have it either. This is a totally normal bra in a common color and size.

And now the freaking website won't take the discount code they're advertising on the front page, and the Victoria's Secret marketing department has made the BRILLIANT move of charging a lot more in shipping fees for larger orders, as though to penalize you for buying their merchandise (as opposed to say, Amazon, where you get free shipping as a reward for placing an order over a certain amount).

So, Victoria's Secret people, wherever you are, if you'd like me to stop telling everyone on the internet about the lingerie frustration you are causing me, please send me a very large gift certificate. Thank you.

Dear Mom, here is a new photo. Dear Jen, she replies...

"Is this a not so subtle message that I need to buy you new clothes? Based on your recent photos, you have nothing but swimwear and lingerie. At least you seem to have plenty of shoes. Love, Mom"

Sunday, September 12, 2004

un army de uno

There appears to be a sort of Mexican-Day festival going on on my block right now. There's a live band on a stage, and a Mexican-flag stand literally right next to my front door. As always, there's an Army recruiting station.

I always find it funny when slogans get translated differently -- in McD's the other day, I saw a dual-language sign that said "100% Taste!" in English, but in Spanish it said something like ¡Prueba nuestro sabor incomparable! Maybe that "hundred-percent" thing just isn't tossed around so casually in other languages. I wonder if you could walk into a classroom in, say, Malaysia, and ask people to give you "110%" and they'd either look at you like you couldn't do math, or else consider it a completely novel motivational phrase.

So, the Army's slogan "An Army of One" is translated into Spanish simply as "Yo soy el Army." Now, obviously "an army of one" is made up of four simple words that certainly exist in Spanish; however, together, they must just not make any sense, at least according to advertising executives.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

Synergy, I need you!

I was sitting in the living room commenting that I was too tired to get up and make coffee, when my roommate suggested I could ask my earring to make coffee. I was confused until I remembered that I was wearing my Jem and the Holograms t-shirt. "But then," he continued, "I suppose it would just make a hologram of coffee."

Friday, September 10, 2004

oh sappho, my barista, imagine a world of amazon women who have replaced men with espresso

I hate Starbucks coffee, but I love their espresso, which I'm sure is deliberate. They make the cheap stuff taste like someone brewed corrugated cardboard so that once you're in the store, you feel like you have to upgrade to the espresso beverage, and then you end up spending $4 instead of the $1.75 you'd originally been anticipating.

I actually prefer the $.75 cup of coffee from the donut cart on the street to the crap they serve at Starbucks. But when it comes to espresso, absolutely no one's but Starbucks' will do. It's like an orgasm that is socially appropriate to have in public.

Incidentally, ever notice how donut shop coffee tastes like donuts? As though little donut particles in the air settle into the coffee, imbuing it with a fried-bread-with-toasted-coconut aroma.

Oh, and here's a marginally apropos picture of me holding a coffee cup.

if you're going to hit on white girls, you might as well find the whitest girl ever

So, you know that come-on where a guy walks up to a girl and says something like "You got any Irish in you?"

And she says no, and he replies with "Would you like some?"

This whole exchange is, of course, predicated on the idea that the first question could have been meant seriously, thus setting the stage for a twist ending.

So, the other day, in Harlem, this guy walks up to me and says:

"You got any black in you?"

Hillary, Howard Dean, and can I please check my fucking email in the cultural hub of America?

Could there please be free WiFi all over Manhattan? It's one tiny island full of technologically-elite individuals. If anywhere should have omnipresent WiFi, it's here.

Just think of the tourism campaign -- many visitors' trips to NYC would be greatly enhanced if they could open their laptops anywhere and be online and not have to worry about setting themselves up in a hotel with a decent internet connection, or relying on coffeeshops. It would probably produce an immediate tourism boost for a little while just for the novelty effect.

Right now I'm particularly annoyed because the McDonald's Wifi network, which used to be free, no longer is. Cleverly, prior to now, the McDonald's network was accessible from inside the Starbucks on the west side of Union Square (which is next to a McDonald's). It always felt great to bypass Starbucks' overpriced network and piggyback on McD's, without having to eat their food.

I heard at one point that Senator Clinton was campaigning for free, public WiFi, but I don't know what happened with that. I went to her site and signed up for email updates, and there's never anything interesting. What's the deal, Hill? Can Howard Dean's people please come help you out?

Thursday, September 9, 2004

isn't it great how "olio" means "melange" but "oleo" means "margarine"?

I also stopped by St. Marx Books today to look at the literary journals. I am easily bored and pretty much reject dense, pretentious tomes (or anything with terrible layout) out of hand. Also, I prefer a bricolage of fiction and essays to an olio of fiction and poetry.

Anyway, the only thing I found not-sucky and not-boring was called Monkeybicycle, which is apparently published in Astoria, by Astorians.

I am a modern creature, with my ADD and my coke and speed and Provigil, and I demand that fiction be interesting in the first paragraph, because if it isn't, well, I have better things to do, and they take AA batteries.

eyes are like windows to the soul; lychees are like white, slimy eyeballs

This evening I had a bizarre but delicious cocktail which was made of vodka, lychee juice, and grapefruit juice, and which was accompanied by a lychee on ice, served on the side in a shotglass. It was meticulous. This is what happens when you let sushi chefs be bartenders.

Also today, I received a missive from a high school debate program seeking an assistant Lincoln-Douglas debate coach. I find this exciting; I am more than a bit geeky. I miss intellectually mauling people with the brute force of my mind! Muhahahaha!

Continuing in reverse-chronological order, the workmen from this morning installed a new circuit breaker in my wall, which is nifty; they also left numerous holes in the walls and ceiling, assuring me that "the plaster people" would come to fix it. I had a previously unblemished stucco ceiling. Somebody had better come make new stucco.

¡Se aterroriza mi gata!

Ah, the romance of a light autumn rain in the morning.... Well, no. After awaking yesterday to actual rainfall in my bedroom, this morning's rain provoked only feelings of dread and impending sogginess. Fortunately, the roof held, so I went back to sleep ... until the electricians arrived.

The electricians have currently torn something like eight giant holes in the plaster of my walls and ceilings, they've pulled giant cables out from behind light fixtures, they've moved my refrigerator into the middle of the living room, and they've scared the hell out of my cat. There are broken chunks of plaster everywhere. It looks like the freaking Berlin Wall just fell in here.

The landlord just called to tell me that the men who came to work on the roof can't do anything because the roof is still too wet. A guy just came into my bedroom and poked a hole in the ceiling with a screwdriver. It looked like a knife sliding effortlessly into, say, cheesecake. "There's a lot of water sitting up there," he said.

And now Juan the electrician wants to know why I'm not married.

I wish these guys would leave so I could take a shower. I'm a dirty, dirty girl. In that pissed-off, messy-haired kind of way.

Wednesday, September 8, 2004

everything is leaking, our lives, our loves, our society -- oh, wait, no, just my goddamn roof

It is raining in my bedroom. That sounds like an Alannah Miles song, but, no, fuck. It's raining outside, my roof is leaking, and it is raining ALL OVER MY BEDROOM. I was woken up at 7:30 this morning because it was raining on my laptop. And all over the hardwood floors. The rivulets are being collected by a precarious system of towels and salad bowls.

In case anyone else's building super speaks Spanish, the essential phrase is "Mi azotea es resquebrajado!"

Monday, September 6, 2004

something runneth over

So, I have a mini-trampoline in my apartment, and I was jumping on it when my (gay) roommate commented "I've noticed that jumping on that trampoline makes your cups jiggle."

He meant, of course, my collection of espresso cups, located on a shelf near the trampoline. Wouldn't want 'em to break, of course.

Sunday, September 5, 2004

well, you have to do SOMETHING with a philosophy degree...

I'm featured right now on BuzzFlood, the site for news of Dartmouth and its alumni.


Are you visiting this site because you saw me running around Manhattan with this URL on my little pink t-shirt? If so, please click on the "Post a Comment" link and tell me where you saw me!

lettuce please you

When Subway first started offering low-carb wraps, I pleased that the universe was turning in my direction. But like all Subway sandwiches, they're basically 75% salad, and I don't like salad. Yesterday, though, I had a low-carb "Toasty Flatbread" sandwich from Quiznos, and it was all hot and delicious and cheesy and about 50,000,000,000 times better than Subway's salad-in-a-soy-tortilla.

don't believe everything you read, especially in tabloid newspapers

Incidentally, since people keep asking, I never did see Dale again.

this dirty schoolgirl is on the internet

Yesterday I got out of a photoshoot and went shopping with my bestest friend Molly. I bought a plaid schoolgirl skirt, soon to be paired with the Jenisfamous t-shirt.

Yesterday was also the first day I wore my Jenisfamous t-shirt, and I noticed all kinds of people reading me as I walked past. I should start tracking hits on this site.

Friday, September 3, 2004

stop staring at my chest while you're looking up my website!

My shirt from Cafepress arrived in the mail! Prepare to see me self-promoting myself on myself with my mad self-promotional skills.


My roommate was looking at the back of my box of Splenda (zero-calorie sweetener) where it said "zero milligrams cholesterol" as "0 MG cholesterol" and he read aloud "OH MY GOD! CHOLESTEROL!"

She's going the distance, she's going for speed is having a contest this month wherein silver members of the site vote for the best photo of a model in a Halloween costume.

I checked out the other entries, and while a plethora of goth chicks are seemingly very enthusastic, many other models have posted photos that don't really qualify as Halloween costumes (sorry, but "girl in a bikini" doesn't qualify as a Halloween costume outside of certain frat parties).

So, anyway, I posted this photo, by Daniel Garcia, of me as a boxer. Those are my real biceps! I was captain of the boxing team at Dartmouth.

Friday day was way too exciting to bother with Friday night

I am sad about Clinton having to have quadruple bypass surgery. About a year ago, I got a notice for a Young Democrats fundraiser where I could've bought some special pass where I got to have my picture taken with Clinton, and I really wish I'd done it.

So, right now I'm catching up with the news and doing some work after running around all day today. I'm listening to the Dartmouth Cords' version of "Janie Got a Gun." Yeah, I admit it, I sing along.

and this is why I am using ninja mind control to create an army of minions

My to-do list has always been long. Really, really long. During the years I ran a company, I'd typically have a to-do list that was ten or twelve pages long in Word, single-spaced. Eventually, I'd pull some items out of it and create a separate "priority list," which would grow longer and longer until it supplanted the real list and, in due time, spawned baby lists of its own.

At some point, I figured out it would be good to take things that weren't to-do items but merely good ideas ("start an S&M coffee shop where you'll take your coffee black and like it!") and put them someplace else, so my to-do list wouldn't be so overwhelming. So I started a Filemaker database of business ideas.

My current to-do list is maybe 4-5 pages. It seems like this is way too long, but I've reached a sort of Zen about it. I figure, so what if I only accomplish ten percent of the items on my list, if my ten percent is still twice as much as what everybody else is doing? The rest is not undone; it's merely ... ripening.

I'm minty fresh OH MY GOD I'M DYING!

My package of Duane Reade brand Clean Mint Fresh Breath Strips contains the warning:


Apparently no further explanation of this is necessary. Must suck to be a phenylketonuric. I mean, I guess.

Wednesday, September 1, 2004

absinthe makes the heart grow fonder

I have a fairy costume! A green fairy costume! With wings! I'm a fairy I'm a fairy I'm a fairy!

So, I really want an excuse to wear it. Other than Halloween and a possible photo shoot.

At first, I thought maybe I'd get a sign that said "Fairies against Bush" and go downtown and join the performance art masquerading as a protest.

Then I realized, even better, I could get a sign that says:

Fairies for Kerry!


I'm in a box on the street with Bill Clinton

My Learning Annex class, "How to Live a Low-Carb Lifestyle in New York" will appear in the upcoming Learning Annex catalog that hits the streets Sept. 15.

I am joining the company of not only Bill Clinton and Deepak Chopra, but also that pet psychic lady.
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