Um, I Have to Bathe My Cat

In an uncharacteristic move, I was watching Seinfeld last night in bed.  Not that I was in bed...but that I was up that late and actually had the TV on.  Sheesh.  Whatever.

More important is this:  in the episode Elaine had met a guy (online?) and they were meeting up for a week long rendezvous at her apartment.  There were a ton of high expectations - you know how it is...you like the way the person sounds/writes/looks and you create this amazing fairy tale that has no chance of ever coming true.  RIGHT?!

Fairy tales - BAH!

So five days into the guy's visit, Elaine can't wait for him to leave.  Jerry or Kramer or George ask if there's been any hanky panky and she says, "No, I've just told him that I've had my period for the past 5 days."

Ladies, do you know that excuse?!  I do!

But wait!  Why do we even have to come up with excuses?  Why can't we just be honest and upfront?

~No, the boys aren't home but you're the last person that I would want to have visit me.

~No, I'm not bleeding like a stuck pig but the thought of your tongue in my mouth makes me want to vomit.

~Yes, I really do find washing my hair WAY more exciting then going out with you.

~No, I'm not really going to bed at 7:52...you're just really really boring me.

~Been there, don't that, didn't even want the souvenir shirt.

~The thought of your dick makes me want to think of vajay jays.

~You want another date?  Were you at the same date I was at?? 

And so on.

But no...we make excuses, tell our little white lies and continue to live another day.  And please, don't look for ME to be changing that anytime soon.  Even though I'm THAT middle-aged women, THAT Mrs. Robinson, THAT Cougar-in-training.  I'd rather stay at home if you can't pass my muster first.

Some years back I had a good friend create an even bigger white lie.   Although I didn't know that it was my friend BEHIND the lie for over a  year.  I'll explain.

A guy started talking to me online.  He was charming, charismatic.  He had nice arms in his profile pic (WAY important, as mentioned briefly here: http://jenmarr.blogspot.com/2010/08/im-driving-my-car-from-my-trunk.html ) He was funny, sexy.  I got to expose the side of me that I often kept under wraps.  And then he was gone. Whatever.

No, this was not him.

About a year went by and he was back.  We flirted.  We divulged fantasies.  And in the back of my head there was that little niggle that kept telling me that I knew who I was talking to.

This guy was aggressive.  He extracted information.  He got me figuratively down on my knees.  And yet...

No, this is not me!

It was an energetic online friendship.  And we decided to meet for lunch.  He told me what he'd be wearing and I set off from work at the appointed time to meet him at a local sandwich shop.  And really wasn't surprised at all when he didn't show.

I KNEW that something had been off.  I KNEW, but didn't force the issue.  But what I ended up finding out blew me out of the water.

Some claim to fabricate a twin to do their 'dirty work.'  That's exactly what a friend of mine had done to me.  (Yes, I called him a friend.  And actually still do to this day).  He was pissed at me so his goal was to leave me with a case of blue balls - girl style.  It worked.  His 'twin' talked a damn freaking good game.

Would it have been easier for him to tell me that he was pissed off at me?  Hell yeah.  We wouldn't have gone through all that bullshit.  However, honestly, it taught EACH of us a lesson or twenty.

He learned that he had the balls in HIM to be aggressive.  I learned how to expose myself even if it meant taking a hit.  He's now having the sex of his life...and I'm not holding anything back in my life.

;)

 

Condoning white lies?  I should be ashamed of myself.  Excuse me while I go wash my hair...

disclaimer:  Not as funny as usual, proceed as you may


Taylor Swift serial dates...turns breakups and mash-ups into songs - and STILL there is a line of young eligible men just WAITING to take her out.  And have her buy a mansion near them.  And  have her meet their parents.  And then break up with them.

Here is a list of her songs and how they apply to her exes, according to Wiki:  http://taylorswift.wikia.com/wiki/List_of_Taylor_Swift's_ex-boyfriends 

And this is cute:  http://gawker.com/5965470/who-has-taylor-swift-dated-a-brief-history-of-all-the-men-in-the-universe

But really nothing against Taylor.  Dudes like her.  She's blond and 21 or something.  But I have an issue:

Even though I don't write Tell All books, I have no such line of guys. (wait, maybe it's because I write this blog.  Geesh)

I retract.  I have the checker at Binny's who thought I looked much younger than I am.  I have the framer that we use...he's a doll and I always get a kiss on the cheek.  I have the older gentlemen in our booster club that think I rock at picking great food for them to eat.

But, I have no one my own age.

And here is why.  (I've analyzed this - so sorry if it gets too heavy)

Even outside of the fact that I'm a single mom, blah blah blah, I have a really hard time knowing when a dude is into me.  Ya know?  My mom used to tell me that guys should hit me over the head with a pan.  My life is full of comedy and i try to keep it light...so a lot gets lost in the shuffle.  There aren't many times that I let someone "IN".  And then when I think "maybe," something inevitably happens and I go into self doubt mode.

And my self doubt mode destroys me.  I've had too many men in my life doing things when they were doing other things.

Have a work issue that is preventing you from keeping a date?  I think you're walking away and needed an excuse.

Classic, right?  Because every intelligent man needs an excuse to get rid of me. (NOT the way I think...just to add emphasis.)

I think I'm going to start recording tunes...my name will be JEM.

Wow! I never saw this coming!

I'm thinking about it.  I've realized that there may be a truncated, abnormal person out there who's attracted to someone who isn't willing to walk around the house naked to investigate an odd noise. Someone who has three boys and is a pain in the ass.  Someone...oooookkkkkaaaayyy.

Yes.

I'm thinking about online dating.

From the Googling of Babes

Porn has been a word used in my house in the last three days.  And not in the "hey honey!  Let's spice things up and turn on a porno" type of way. (WHAT?  As you know, there is no 'honey' that lives here.)

The second ex texted me Friday to inform me that the 7 year old had stumbled upon a pornographic site while googling on the phone.  The mystery remains as to what he was googling.  I can't break him and I just spent 2 hours scratching his back.

So now I'm not so concerned about what he saw (because that wasn't his intent) as to what he wanted to see (as evidenced by his crying)

Porn is not a common factor in my house.  I know, I know - ya'll think I'm a spinster with 28 cats so this isn't news to you.  However.  I wonder if it's in the blood. Probably not.  Aside from some curiosity when I was younger ( a friend and I pretended to take photos of each other in my closet) I've been squeaky clean.  Well, clean at least.

But I can't figure out what the little guy was typing in the search box:  boobies?  thingys?  people doing it?  Knowing the 7 year old and his vocabulary, it could have been something closer to:  videos that show men and women engaging in each others private parts for entertainment.

Wow, THAT could just get me going on a whole other tangent!

Making Fun of the Cat Lady

I don't mind if you laugh at me, make fun of me, think I'm silly.  In fact, I hope you do!  It's the best compliment that I can have.  After a lifetime of being so serious, I get seriously jacked up when someone tells me I have wit and am humorous.

More often than not (read:  always), I use humor against me.  But it's okay - if I can't laugh at me, how could anyone else?  Right?

So tonight  I had a few plans change around and while knowing that I would end up in front of my computer playing Words with Friends (and frantically trying to squash my ex-hub), I decided to be brave and hold the inevitable off a bit.

So I did this:

Don't worry, it's not permanent (as if you were dry heaving)

It looks a little better here:

But not much!

Spending my teens in the Cleveland public eye taught me a lot about humility and rolling with the punches.  I think this was one of the worst pictures published of me:

Double breasted shirts??!!  Even at 16 I didn't need the extra help.

There was this one too:

I was typecast as a cat lady before I'd even had sex.  Oh wait.  Let me rethink those dates again.

Moral of the story, folks.  I'm going to go out on a limb (verbally, in written form) time and time again. Join me, it's fun.  But don't hold your breath if you want to see me make an ass of myself (on purpose) in public.  That's reserved for those that actually know me! :)

Karaoke anyone?  Only if there is moonshine involved! (Unless it's Fried Ham, Fried Ham - I'm GREAT at the donkey voice!)

Crashing a reunion...

It takes two to make a thing go ri-iight...It takes to make it out of sight...

Every frat on every college campus in the Fall/Winter of 89/90 played the crap out of DJ Rob Base.  It brings up memories of kegs, boys and dancing with my hall-mates (yes, I said dancing) and lots and lots of fraternity formals.

Here's one formal pic.  One of the 4 is now famous and (hint) it's not me!:

Look at this gem I just found online about Rob Base:  I'm astounded that almost a quarter of a century has passed since the release of Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock's "It Takes Two".

(OMG.  25 years??!  NONE of the guys on the basketball team (my day job) were even BORN then.  To them, this song is an oldie. of they even know it at all.  Holy shit.  Botox, anyone???)

Here's a link to the song if you're younger then my guys on the bb team!! :)  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IBRbzf3Fws&noredirect=1


I got side-tracked.

This weekend was the Homecoming weekend in Evanston for the classes ending in 7 and 2.  While I am a 3 (you make a joke, I crack your knees), I knew that a lot of people I knew would be there, so, with the help of Lime Credo lead singer Geoff Melkonian (my best friend), I crashed that mf.  LOL!.

I jokingly tweeted earlier in the week about the former boyfriends that I would come across over the weekend.  Although, in retrospect, during my freshman year, aside from a one-month deal with a hottie from Cali that I met the second day of school (see below - I KNOW, I can't believe he liked me wearing that shirt either!), until I met my first ex, I was more about asserting my right to have fun.

Anddddd, I was reminded of that on Saturday night.

It seems I had a lot of fun.  

No. That  sounds like I don't remember it.  I do, aside from the normal 22 year memory loss.

One guy I knew to expect.  He was a keeper that I didn't keep.  There was the washer incident and then the alphabet one.  The volleyball game and....Oh Lord.  We were quiet friends because there was a fraternity 'rule' about seeing more than 3 guys in on house during a given period.  Or something.

The other one, not that I had forgotten about him, wasn't on my radar to be there.  When he appeared in front of  I almost lost my Mom Card.  Visions of a bottle of Captain's, 2 Liter of Dr. Pepper and a closet arose.  AND a really awkward fraternity formal picture...which I can't find.  But, he also remembered that my dress that night was green.  (the green and black dresses made the rounds of the formals that year - they were my senior year in high school Christmas Dance and Prom dresses.  I evolved from that)

So aside from what could have been some awkward moments, in the middle of conversation I realized that then, all 18 years of me, was confident enough to SEEK out fun.  To play volleyball.  To talk to new people. To take every moment.  That with these two guys, for example, I created moments that I can look upon fondly, with a little cringe.  

It's absurd to say that at 41 with three boys, living alone, that I can create the same KIND of opportunities.  But the fact is that I have to CREATE a new kind.  I spoke with a newly single mom who was so unused to free time.  She's taking up tennis.  There are so many ways to just let go!

So I beg of you.  If you know me (well, duh, you're reading this, right??) DON'T let me cop out using the lame old excuse of being tired, or busy, or needing to clean, or blah blah blah.  Call me out.  Make me feel wrong for begging out.

Imagine, this all came from crashing a party of 'old people!'

And because I love the fact that you take a moment of your day to read this, I leave you with a gift.  One of my MOST awkward pictures ever.  Christmas Dance, 1985.  Freshman year.

I took a left turn on red and decided that for those of you that are Facebook and Twitter fans I probably should delve into my obsession with the Salvation Army.

It started when I was a Senior in High School.  I used to go there for men's blazers to wear with my rolled jeans.  Then, for Halloween I decided to go as a vampiress:

I'm on the far left of the picture.  I got the dress - triangle cut out in front and large section missing (on purpose) from the back for 49 cents.  And then I wore it in December to the Nutcracker ballet in Cleveland.  That was the start of a love affair.

I've just always had that kind of luck there.  And I don't mind shopping there.  NOT in the slightest.  Jones New York, Armani, Banana Republic, Ann Taylor...  People who pay $50 for a pair of jeans....pshaw, i spit on where you walk!...OKAY, not really!!:)

I just have phenomenal luck.  In addition, I love anything RETRO.  When I was a size nothing, I loved dressing up in 60's and 70's stuff....NOT INSPIRED STUFF...the real damn ass thing!

I can walk in knowing what I'm looking for be it a theme, a color, a pair of shoes, what not...and I can find it 8.5 times out of 10!  It's where I head to first when I have to dress for a special occasion like this:

This gorgeous dress cost me $4.  And, I'm STILL hearing about it ;)

Another time I was told to dress 'casual dressy rock star.'  I came up with this:

and this, too, was from the big S. A.:

The OTHER reason I love the Salvation Army is that it's organized by clothing type, then by length, then by color.  O.M.G.  A OCD/ACD/AC-DC person's dream:

Fine, call me what you like!  It was this love of the S.A. that led me to color coordinate my shirts in my closet(s).  First is black, then gray then white.  On the second tier is green, then blue, purple, pink, orange, red, off white and brown...  IT WORKS, OKAY??!!

I find that when I'm frustrated, I can go spend 30 minutes in the Salvation Army store and I get back into my zone.

UNTIL TODAY.

Now YOU have to deal with me.

Casual Dressy Rock Star, anyone?

How many brunettes does it take...?

Even though I've been pregnant three times (including the first when I gained about 70 pounds or so), my ankles have always been as slender as a delicate english flower.  Like this:

Actually my ankles have never done me wrong.  (Talk about giving something POWER!!)  As my waist started to go south (along with my boobs and ass), my ankles and calves have remained resilient to gravity and advancing years.  I've mentioned that here: http://jenmarr.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-promise-to-tell-truth-and-only-truth.html

This, of course, is my left leg...past host of tendonitis in my heel! :)  Sexy right?  (LOL)  







Well, today - actually yesterday I guess - I was BETRAYED!  BETRAYED I TELL YOU!!   I have a cankle!  (Cankle?  WTF is a cankle??

According to the Urban Dictionary it's:  

The area in affected female legs where the calf meets the foot in an abrupt, nontapering terminus; medical cause: adipose tissue surrounding the soleus tendon, probably congenital, worsened by weight gain and improved in appearance only by boots. From the English "calf" meaning wide portion of the lower leg, and "ankle" meaning slender joint of leg with foot.) Pretty technical.  I think it means it's this: However, please notice the brilliant use of color for this cankle.... WAIT!  I just saw that I need to wear boots!!!!  This might not be so bad!! :) Okay, back to the bad news.  The reason for this atrocity?  A LIGHT BULB! That's right, you heard me.  Edison is to blame for this! I stood on a chair in my kitchen to change a light bulb.  Stepped down...onto the side of my tennis shoe.  Instant agony.   Of course I shared the pics on fb...this was a glory moment for me. An ACTUAL injury!  (OMG, can you imagine the damage I could do if I was actually an athlete??!!!)  People said I need to see a doctor, others said I should have hired someone to change the bulb for me. (Hello, Jon Claude's Escort Service?  Yes, I have a delicate need that I need serviced.  Could you please send someone to change a light bulb.  NO!  That's not a metaphor!) Now, to speak to the people that wanted to go on a date with me.  Hello?  Hello?   Heeeeeelllllllooooooooo??????

New Years Resolutions

What most people without kids don't know is that there is ANOTHER point in the year that 'New (School) Year' Resolutions are made.  Well, if you're like me and not perfect, of course.

My Resolutions for this year are this (remember, I'm like the woman that lived in the shoe...my 6 year old doesn't require the same as my 19 year and vice versa!):

Know my child's teacher.  (CLEARLY this is for the elementary school-aged kids.  For the college kid I could care less.  Unless they are single)

Know what's in my child's backpack.  (Again, for the little guys.  Unless it's an old old sandwich.  Then, I'll let their dad handle it.  Um, backpack for the college kid?  I only hope he thinks of me and not his dad when he goes about his day.)

Know what my kids prefer for lunch.  (Okay, so Waukegan offers free breakfast AND lunch.  I can't get my kids to cop to that no matter how hard I try to sell it.  So, I'm forced to make two lunches a night.  They both like PB&J, but the youngest gets finicky about the amount of each.  YES, I have them make their own stuff on occasion, just not often enough to save my sanity.)

Have uniforms pressed and cleaned.  (What does 'pressed' mean?  Um, it means taking an iron to it.  Geez.  So, I guess this means I can't rotate pants between the boys.  The oldest?  Hopefully he's going to class.)

Monitor whether the boys/dads have crushes on the teachers.  (Thought this was okay for the early years...makes the dad come to the meetings.  UNTIL I found out about my ex - FIRST ex.  However, still thinks it's okay for the boys...they're young (NOT talking about the college kid, I was one of the few that watched Jack and Bobby when it was on TV))

THROW AWAY..(I do not need to keep every little thing!  NOT that I get anything from the college kid!!)

Know the days off...(I've been lazy because the little guy' dad has been off work...The oldest?  He comes and goes when he pleases)

I can't stress enough how great it is to have this set of resolutions...just lets let eachother know how quickly we break them. :)

Bowling for Benefits

I woke up this morning with an iconic movie quote stuck in my head - "Tonight, WE BOWL!"

Sing along at home if you're in the shower...Huh? What do you mean you don't recognize it?  You're kidding, right?  Michelle Pfeiffer?  Adrian Zmed? Judy Garland's kid?  That other guy that was in that other movie?  No bells ringing?

I'm OF COURSE referring to the sequel of this smash hit with Olivia Newton-John and John Travola...Grease 2, a movie that's been referenced in this very arena before: C-O-O-L

So that got me to thinking...Why isn't there a Grease 3?  I can cast it right now:  Miley Cryus (unless she gets knocked up right away or Liam doesn't want her cavorting with the cast I've compiled), Katy Perry as Frenchie (she already does that weird hair shit) and James Franco as the new T-Bone - Bird!  I mean T-Bird!  Who cares if he can sing or not...the old T-Birds couldn't!  Oh, throw Ozzy's daughter in the new one too...she would be a great Pink Lady! And, hmmm, Zac Efron, Taylor Lautner and Robbie Amell.  (That's Robbie below - you are very welcome!)  Of course, we'd have to have 'G3' take place on the beach to show off the ab-ACTING skills of these fine young thespians.

With that cleared up - text into a writer/director/producer friend in LA - I moved onto other 'how comes and why nots:" (Commute was a bit slow today)


Why are there still drivers that go the speed limit in the left lane?


How could ANYONE believe that Drew Peterson was a guy they wanted to marry?

Roller Coasters - how do people NOT fall out?  And, who offered to test that theory?

Those holes in kids' ears...the big ones...who thinks that feels good?

Same thing with piercings in ...ah...sensitive places.


OOOH, here's a good one:  What exactly is a Friend with Benefits?

The first part should be pretty easy to explain.  Wouldn't you think generally a 'friend' is someone that you enjoy spending time with - like having a beer, watching a game, taking in a flick? To be an FWB, don't you have to be a F first?

Perhaps not.  Follow along below:

There was a guy and a girl and they had 'benefits.'  One evening, the guy told the girl that he didn't think she was the kind of girl that he could hang out with.  WHAT???  Meaning he'd be so overcome with lust every time he was within 30 feet of her that their clothes would have to disappear??  That he wouldn't be able to have a beer with her on a couch without acting out the complete unabridged Kama Sutra?

Pretty sure that's not what the guy was talking about ....

So after hearing this story, I couldn't help but stop and consider:  So WTF is a FWB if you're not really Fs?

Cringe.  Hopefully for her sake, his name wasn't "John."

The girl bitched and moaned and regaled her friends with a comical and self deprecating version of the tale that involved this:

Not only did the nonFWB think the girl wasn't F worthy (and not the 4-letter F word, because as established, that was the modus operandi), the nonFWB told the girl all about trolling the online dating sites (even about specific people he tried to pick up) and the plans to reconcile with his ex.  While naked.  While on the wet spot.  The girl said she was just nodding her head in understanding while mentally castrating him.  (Okay, she wasn't being THAT harsh.  That's me using my poetic license!)  And then there was the, "I'm never cuddling again.  And I'm NEVER spooning again." Um, okay.

Yikes.

One of her pals, after letting her vent and commiserating with her by giving her the obligatory "he's a douchebag" comment sensitively explained what he thought she needed to do:

GET A BIGGER FREAKING SHIELD FOR YOUR FREAKING HOOHAH!

Did I mention how sensitive he is??  

I told her she needed to just move on and that I would tell her tale, giving her closure.

The end.

Editor's note:
Shield her hoohah!  Please.  You ALREADY think we're crazy! We are women of a certain age.  To the men out there:  do you REMEMBER what it was like to be a 19 year old male??!!  Add some boobs, other various different body parts and YOU'VE GOT IT!  

Geez.

The end.  Again.

Perrier and Grey Poupon

Over the past four years, I've gained about 25 pounds.  NO!  Don't stop reading.  This is NOT an I'm fat entry!!! It's as if the weight suddenly realized that I had done NOTHING four years ago to deserve my lack of curves:  didn't diet, didn't exercise - only thing healthy I did was to quit smoking.   I enjoyed living in the body of a 20-something girl.  Firmly poured into my size 4's and strutting around in little tops and bathing suits (I was 36 or 37 years old)  I thought I looked great.  Everyone around me told me to eat a sandwich.  Of course, as the old adage goes, hindsight is 20/20 and I have pictures to prove that I needed to eat MANY sandwiches.  But I digress.

So I've put back on the weight and then a little.  Enough so that I sought professional help from our strength and conditioning coach:  I call him the Task Master.  Now, he's not a very nice guy generally but giving orders is his thing so he was happy to start instructing.  With his help and suggestions on diet and exercise (although I'm pretty sure he was joking when he sent me the blog about the woman who can hip thrust like 500 pounds) I've seen some movement in the waistband of my pants.  However.  I'm still light years away from volunteering at a bikini bike wash or signing up to be a Ring Girl (you're welcome).  In fact, I'm light years away from a bikini period.

I've gone a few summers without actually putting a suit on.  If I'm sitting in the sun, I will wear a tank and some short shorts...no one to show my tan lines to anyway :)  But I decided to take the boys swimming tomorrow.  And seeing as neither of them are proficient swimmers yet, I'll have to get in the pool too.  (by the way, why are the toes on my right foot uglier than my left foot?  Just an observation that I am having as I get my toes pool-ready for tomorrow).  A mental inventory of my swim (hahahaha) suits had me sighing as visions of sagging and/or over-exposed body parts filled my thoughts. No worries - pay day is tomorrow and there's a Target on the way home.  I justified the expense as a 'have to not embarrass the boys' emergency expense.

So I head to the clearance.

Side note:  why are there already bathing suits on clearance?  Doesn't it make you wonder what happened to them already?  Were they already dry cleaned to remove stains, blood, brain matter?

Have avoided the bikini tops, plunging necklines, blah blah blah...and find a few things to try on.

Side note:  Why oh WHY hasn't someone fixed the damn lights in the dressing rooms....Cybil Sheppard should have handled this in the 80's.  SOFT focus, people.

AND I FIND IT.

It's worthy of Marilyn Monroe.  Or Audrey Hepburn (if I was in my 25 pounds lighter stage)  One piece.  Potentially strapless.  Empire waist detail - the smallest part of the body (thank you Stacy and Clinton).  Not a jiggle or wiggle showing.  No butt cheek, no cleavage.  Glamorous.  And, while searching for a picture (which you can find on Target's website) I found that this item was not to be stocked in stores.  My luck has shown up in spades.

So tomorrow, when I head to the public pool in the lovely town I live in, I will be vintage glam in my new ($17) suit.  I feel as if I should be wearing elbow-length white gloves, my Matinee necklace, ruby red lips, sipping on a Perrier and ready to offer the Grey Poupon.

(toe update.  both sides look like hell now.  I need a professional pedicure.)

Be Phenomenal

For the most part, being 40 has been pretty fabulous.  I'm calmer.  I know what I want versus what I need.  And vice versa.  I have amazing children, good friends, supportive family, a great job(s)....

Then there's not knowing what the hell is going on with my body.  That part sucks.  The blasted term "belly fat" that I never thought I would utter.  The worry of menopause (hell with calling it 'The Change' - a woman's life is ALL about change)...the horrid cramps that hit.  (If you'll recall, we DID offer a TMI waiver about 2 years ago!)  There's the realization that cutting down on carbs really DOES do my body good.  And that completely sucks. Give me a fresh baked loaf of bread and I don't need sex for days.

Ahh.  Sex.

A fond distant memory.  Which also sucks because everything they tell you in 7th grade about the male and female sex drive is TOTALLY true.  Not at all like those math teachers that tell you that knowing the Pythagorean will be important.  Who knows what E=MC2 means anyway. (LOL, yes, that was intentional).

So, today was a day (especially because I was reading this new smut book) that I had to dig deep deep deep for some patting on the back.  I found it with Ms. Angelou.

For all of us women:

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Be phenomenal, Ladies.

blowing out the candles

Picture a situation where your best friend and your sibling were by your side.  Not so hard, right?  The boys are watching BeyBlades on Cartoon Network and are in that exact scenario.  They are 6 and 7.

In no logical order...How about your graduation?  Maybe your first date?  Your wedding?  The first time you got drunk?  The birth of your first, second, third child?  

How about your surprise birthday party?  For your 90th birthday.  There is only one person on my Facebook friends list that can still answer YES, but chances are he's smart enough not to be reading this right now!

My grandfather, Robert Brown Marr, will turn 90 on the 22nd of May.  That's a NINE with a ZERO after it.  Like 9 decades.  45 twice.  And at his surprise birthday party his childhood friend Joe Cassidy (in the below picture on the left) and his brother George (on the right) were there.  Joe (a newly minted Nonagenarian) traveled from Pawtucket, RI (and that's Pu-TUCK-it, btw) and George, only younger by about 15 months, came up from Dayton.  FOR THE DAY.  FOR THE PARTY.  (Oh, and I HAVE to say this:  Uncle Joe came with his fiance.  And, he SKYPES.  UH HUH.  (I don't know how to Skype!)  Dear Lord, there is hope for me yet!)

This weekend I was walking on top of a LOT of roots.  My family, on both sides, have long standing traditions of making things work.  My Grandpa and Grandma Marr were married for 68 years before she died two years ago.  They have five children.  (all year ranges are pure speculation from here on out...).  My Aunt Sandy and Uncle Jerry have been married for at least 40 years.  Ditto for my Uncle Bob and Aunt Sandy.  My Aunt Nancy and Uncle Dave have been together at least 25 years.  My Uncle John and Aunt Sue have been married for years and my mom and dad were married for 18 years.

On the other side of the gene pool, Monday will be my Grandma and Grandpa Bartlome's 63rd anniversary.  They have four daughters.  My mom and dad, as mentioned, were married for 18 years and my mom and step dad have been married for 18 years themselves.  My Aunt Denise and Uncle Bill have been together for over 30 years as have her twin and her husband, Aunt Deb and Uncle Gary.  My Aunt Dawn and Uncle Jerry have been married for 25 years.

(I'm not even gonna go with the "so what the heck happened to me" route!)

I have roots.  As I said.  Lots and Lots and Lots of roots.  And damn good DNA.  Just look at this picture of me, my dad and my sister:

Go ahead. Tell me how old we are.  Oh wait!  You pretty much know how old I am.  Shucks!! :)

It's not OUR fault we're so youthful looking!  Look at these two:

I wouldn't have wanted to have been anywhere else at 3:20 on Saturday, May 12th.  The look and emotion on my grandfather's face showed what the next 50 years could hold.

My 90th surprise party.  Will you be there with me?

Here and now

My dog hates me. Wait. It seems I've said this before. Well, she does. Or is she doesn't, she should. But she's a dog and she'll get over it, right? I mean I could do without the shit on the floor...but when I'm on the couch next to her, she's all up in my face. Maybe she doesn't hate me.

 *****

 I work in a pretty smart environment. Two things happened yesterday that made me chuckle. No really. Only two. First, one of our student managers walked into the office and said: are they repainting in there? There meaning the fieldhouse that is in the back of the actual gameday arena. Hmmm. Are they painting? Let's investigate. There's plastic tarps down everywhere, all of the curtains are covered, our windows are covered, there are three men in white paint-splattered uniforms operating paint sprayers and there are paint chips everywhere from when they scraped the walls. Last but not least, there are lethal paint fumes permeating every pore. Unless they're painting for the first time, all signs lead to the fact they're repainting. Here's YOUR sign.

 Second, not as funny but still got a chuckle. I answer the phone: Wildcat Basketball! The guy on the other end said.."um, is this, um, is this the Basketball Office at Northwestern?" NO silly, it's the women's field hockey office! That's why I said, "Wildcat Basketball!!"

 *****

 My job is pretty cool (which I mean to say is UBER cool!). Even solely for the fact that I worked for this same entity when I was a college student and my boss and her boss are STILL IN THEIR SAME POSITIONS! Longevity. A Miracle. I got my first tattoo the day that Coach F broke his leg in the Iowa game in the winter of 95. I could have watched the Co-Prez's of my booster club play ball if I'd have wanted..but I wasn't the cool b ball fan that I am now! It's a wonder to me and I relish in it. Even when I found out that someone that I knew back in the day had ZERO recollection of me. Nada. No clue. Zip. (Thank god for small favors)

 *****

 The Men's B Ball team had their presence at the NU Relay for Life this evening. We had been able to gather $9100 in donations leading up to the opening ceremonies and the guys volunteered for another fundraising event during the relay. I never understood how much our team is looked up to until I saw the line waiting to play them in the Knock Out Tournament. All of these students donated $5 to try to beat on of the Men's guys. Funny point is that one of them did. Drew was the first man out! What was the best part...even more so than seeing Dave S. win the whole damn thing...was to see my guys competing, for fun, against each other and their peers. I LOVED the crowd participation when things went good/bad for those involved. And major props to the guy in the navy blue polo and skinny khakis...he was second!!!

It's a whirlpool...

There is so much in my head right now that I would love to download....so this is a warning! There will be a time when I talk about baseball hotties, angst on the job, playing Dr.Jen for the lovelorn, what'll it will take for me to date, and WTH is Kim Kardashian. Oh, and sprinkle that with 'Who was Jeni Marr." That's enlightening! :) I promise....or I threat...!

I live in a male-dominated world. Not the WORLD, but the world as known by Jen Marr. My children are all boys. My closest friends (here) are male. My work-staff at the station: mostly male and all I usually deal with are ... male. NU? Male.

You'd think I'd be set....

...I've become one of the guys.

Without divulging too much, let's take a peak at my day job. Most of you know by now that I have a vomit-inducing-during-the-season-job for the Wildcats (which, by the way were named so because of their performance on the field). The head coach (a guy) has three assistant coaches (all guys), a director of ops (a guy), a video coordinator (guy) and the list goes on...trainer, strength performance, marketing, blah blah blah.

I have learned that there are so really good things to working in a male dominated world:

No one really knows if you have a bad hair day..but if they do, they certainly don't mention it.

they don't know if you've worn an outfit twice in once month...
...shit, they don't know if you've worn the same pants in the same week...

They love you if you provide for them: coffee, cookies, sugar...

If it's PMS time, they just assume it's PMS time.

They think you're smart...well, which I am, but it's nice to know they think so! (Jen, how do you: change the toner, fax a document, etc...)

They think you're smart about relationships...well, one does. And asks my advice.

They don't know the difference between your 'puffy' week and any other. They don't look at you that closely!!

Add to that the love of my boys..

Well, you see where I'm sitting! :)

Marriage. By Jen Marr

For the sake of this exercise, let's assume that I will get married again.  The question is:  for what?

'People' say you should get married for LOVE.  Others say you should get married for money.  Still others think you can have both.  (Although it's been told to me that you can't have hot sex and a lasting relationship.  Confusing, right?)

Well, I've never done either.  And I don't plan on it. The love and money marriage, I mean!

I Googled 'types of marriages' (because that's how I get all of my information)...but I really didn't get what I was looking for.  I don't think 'types' is what I'm after, however, this blogger gave me some great insight as to 20 different recognized 'Types':   http://libertinethought.blogspot.com/2008/01/20-types-of-marriage.html
I especially enjoyed #20 and think I may head toward that if all else fails:

20. After Death Marriage
Permitted in France, a living person can marry a dead person of the opposite sex after the individual has died.

I think I realize my problem.  It's REASONS to get married.  Back to Google.

Askmen.com...because MEN know the answers to EVERYTHING right??  Let's take a gander: http://www.askmen.com/top_10/dating/top-10-reasons-to-get-married.html  (so far I've read that the dude can live longer and get that big screen TV.  SMH)  (extending bloodline, not being along...blah blah blah) (more attractive to women, tax benefits) (FINALLY:  more sex, better sex) (happier, makes you a better man - HA)

No, that wasn't really what I was looking for either.  But will bookmark Askmen.com for future burning questions! (Top 10 Movies to see to Get Sex...Top 10 Interesting Facts about Women...Top 10 Relationship Mistakes - ALL from a man's perspective!  Enlightening!!)

Okay back to MEEEE.  (Remember, we're pretending here):  So do I marry for sex?  For convenience?  (whoo hoo - someone to take the garbage out!)  To help someone gain citizenship?  (green card anyone??) To have someone to bitch to at the end of the day? (I mean share my day with...teehee!)  Wait, I sound as bad as the dude from Askmen.com.  Sigh.

Here's another option:  http://marriage.about.com/cs/prisonmarriage/ht/prisonmarriage.htm.  But the only person I know in prison is all the way in Cali and I don't even know if they do conjugal visits.  Wait.  I'll go Google it....

Okay, according to PrisonTalk.com....California may or may not have it, depending on where you are and if you're serving life or not.  I particularly liked this question:  "Does anyone know - does a 108-year to life sentence count as "life," and therefore, ineligible for conjugal visits?"

Cleared that right up!

Similar to a Prison Marriage would be a Long Distance Marriage.  Probably sex about as often...without the orange jumpsuits, metal bars and those pesky guards carrying guns.  Oh, and your spouse wouldn't be a murderer, rapist, money launderer or Rod Blagojevich.  Bonus!  The only issue I see here is that at least ONE of you has to have money to pay for all the travel arrangements.  


A Long Distance Marriage for Money?  Geez.  This is complicated.

I'll just grab my WAHL All-Body Massager and put an end to this line of thinking.

There's a part of me that thinks I should start kissing every frog I see.

I should explain.

I don't believe in princes.  But then again, I don't believe in a lot of stuff that each of you experience on a daily basis.  But, I don't believe in princes.  I mean, I know they literally exist.  There's Harry and William as proof.  But I'm less willing to think that there is some guy that acts in a 'princely manner' - um, like what?  Stands at attention?  Wears a coat of arms?  Goes to war?  DO I REALLY WANT A PRINCE??

hell no.

But do I WANT a frog...I do.  Failed countless times at love, I am a survivor...I hope.

I found these trees while I was walking...And all I could think about was how I would love to get kissed - and to give a kiss - while being barefoot under them.  And then...who knows...maybe use a canopy of the trees to witness my next venture in life.


It made me realize I wasn't dead.

Result of the ACM's?

April Fools?

It would be easier if it was.

It's Time

SPOILER ALERT!!!!

There is no whining involved in this blog post!

No really.  I'm not yanking your chain.

40 has been an incredibly strange year.  An incredibly rewarding year.  An incredibly FRUSTRATING year.  Seriously?  There is some Gamemaker out there flipping switches on my arena (body) to make my hunger game (life in general) more exciting (or frustrating!)

There has also been an epiphany during my 40th (or is it my 41st) year.  Life is fucking short.  I had a conversation with one of the basketball guys today, a senior.  You may have heard of him.  He's pretty good. Holds about a gazillion records!  He's getting ready to graduate.  And finds it weird that he won't be a student (god willing, he'll be an NBA draft).  He has his whole life ahead of him.

So do we all.

Don't take it for granted.

Facebook continues to be an amazing means for me to reconnect with those from my past, regardless of its format changes.  SOAP BOX TIME:  WHO REALLY CARES if it changes...look at the people you now have access to!.  Okay, I feel better.  Recently, my high school guidance counselor found me on there.  He's pretty much known me from birth!  ( a side note:  I distinctly remember sitting in his office talking about why guys didn't ask me out...he said I was 'intimidating'.  I think now that translates to psychotic.).  In a short week, he has been exposed to all aspects of my life:  the basketball, the radio, the ups and the downs.  And he thought enough about me to send me a link.  And I care enough about you to repost it:
http://www.godvine.com/8-Year-Old-Girl-Has-a-Voice-That-You-Won-t-Believe-1311.html

I have many miles left to travel.  Tomorrow I talk to my landlord about purchasing the house I live in.  Although not in a great town, I hope not to have to uproot my guys...my BIG MEN ON CAMPUS.

However, life is NOT guaranteed as evidenced by the extremely unfair passing of a childhood neighbor yesterday.

Please.  LIVE  YOUR LIFE the way that you want it to be lived.  Scary?  Sure as shit.

Your other option?  "Jen always wanted to travel/garden/write/act, but never found the time."

Hurling

The last time I threw up without assistance, I was pregnant.

Saturday's game against Iowa almost got me there.  My stomach hurt. My head hurt.  I was Nauseous with a capital N.

Never before have I followed a sport that got me physically sick.  And I'm an Indians, Cubs and NU football fan.  I've been well-seasoned.

My guys have the tenacity to make a run.  It will start in Indy and then go to Dayton.  The stats on this senior class don't lie.  It's the winningest senior class since...I don't know when.  John Shurna beat Billy McKinney's record for total points scored EVER that had stood for 35 years.  In addition, Johnny is the Big Ten overall scorer. This is the first time this has happened for 60 years.

Northwestern Basketball said with respect?  You betcha!!

To go from a non-basketball-watcher to...this is 3 months?  If only I could lose weight this quick.

My Hoops Dream

O. M. G.

I just caught myself.  I've never been like this before.  I seriously can't help but wonder what is wrong with me.  Unfortunately, I don't think there is a cure.

Luckily, I don't care.

My beloved 'Cats on are on the brink.  And I KNOW what that means!

We're tied for 7th in the Big 10 Conference (which isn't so bad because there are 12 teams...and MSU has pretty much dominated and we cleaned their clocks!!)  Our RPI as of this second is 42, but our SOS has gone down to 12 from 9 (dumb MSU getting beat!!)

ESPN is forecasting us as being the last four invited into the tourney.  (oh trust me, I am knocking on a lot of wood as I speak...Huh.  Well, at least the kind of wood that is made from trees!)  Looking at potentially being 16th seeds.

We have two regular season games left.  Tomorrow night is Ohio State.  Tough one.  Except, they recently lost to MSU ( we beat them!), MI (damn we were close) and WI (soooooo, we won't really go there!).  OSU is about 50% on the road.

Iowa is Saturday afternoon.  On their court.  However, leading up to this game, Iowa has to play Nebraska. On THEIR court.  Nebraska, even though they are at the lower end of the totem pole, beat IA by 6 in their last meeting in IA.  Iowa, fortunately, is crappy on the road...only 2-10.  GO CORN PEOPLE!!!!

I'm analyzing my outfits I've worn to the home games (couch games don't count...can't wear sweats and tanks to work).  I've become overly superstitious...

And in love...

With the game of NU college hoops.