HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLOGGY TYPE MATES!!!

And Happy Pi Day to boot!  I picked an awesome birthday for my blog.

Thank you so much, all of you, for reading my blog, and liking it so much you want it to be a person so you could take it to Vegas and marry it most of the time.

You guys make this so much more rewarding because I know that somewhere out there in the world are people who I've never met who think I'm kind of funny.  And that is a huge freaking confidence boost.

So Happy Birthday to me, I guess.

And thanks again.  Y'all are the bee's knees!

Love and kisses,

Jen

P.S. Check out my last post, because that one was about me finally standing up for myself, and it's awesome and inspiring and all that jazz, so go check it out!

Love again,

Jen

Just Call Me Myrtle, Because I Am About To Moan...

Clever title, right? I'm full of hilariosity.  Honestly, I don't know how I live with myself.

But today isn't going to be all sunshine and roses and me being hilarious and bringing humor into your lives like a humor-bringing thing.
No. Today I'm going to moan.
If you don't like moaning, the exit is, quite literally, the X at the right or left of your screen, depending on the brand of computer you have.

Ready? Are they gone?

....

Good. If they are gone, I don't love them nearly as much as I love you all.  Honestly. I love you all much more than them.  Muchos kisses mi smallus amigos. (And I say that I'm in Spanish 3. What a laugh and a half.)

So let me tell you my story.

I have this issue where I was all high and mighty and didn't like anyone 'like that' for I want to say four years, which coming from a teenage girl, is like saying I've been a virgin lesbian monk for 79 years and that I have a beard and a moustache and I live in a cave in the Himalayas.

....

Obviously none of that is true, besides the bit about me not liking anyone for four years. But that is what I'm trying to get at. I haven't liked anyone for four years, which is nuts. My friends liked guys and fell out of like with guys and I was like their proverbial rock in the storm. They clung to my apparent freakish non-normal self because I had a clear head. That is clearly a lie, but I apparently offered the best advice on relationships, which is hilarious and ironic because I've never been in one. A relationship that is. Saying that I was going out with a guy for fifteen minutes in the sixth grade doesn't count.

Anyfloozle, this year I met a guy. Shocking beginning to the tale, I know. Like I said, I'm not a lesbian monk. But I met a guy. And he is really, really cool. And I guess it is a good thing he doesn't know that I have a blog, because then he would find this and he would know it was about him. And he would get a big inflated head and that is the last thing that I would want to happen. It's already inflated enough. But that's one of the reasons I like him, odd as that may sound.

I met him talking at a marching band parade. The first conversation we ever had we talked about how me and my friend Elliese have penis envy and we want to have one for one day only for the sole purpose of writing our names in the snow. This, ladies and germs, is what me and my friends think about. But he was funny. And we got to talking more. And, the blossom of LUUUURRRVVVE began to grow.

But then, the pruning sheers of horrible comments appeared. He said that he was like my brother. And I was all 'Suuuurrrreee!' and I said it with that horrible fake smile that feels like it has been plastered onto your face.

Then the flirting started. And there was a lot of it. I knew he was flirting with a lot of other girls, but me being vair vair pathetico, I thought I was different. So I kind of told him that I liked him. And then things left the Valley of the Casually Okay and entered the Mountains of the Majestically Awkward. We didn't talk for about a week and a half. Which, for those of you who don't know, is about seven years in teenage girl time.

So I wrote him a note like the romance novel heroine that I am and now we're friends again. But he's trying not to flirt with people anymore. Which sucks because I love hugging people. (I love hugging people. I love hugs. I will literally hug anyone. I don't care if I haven't known you that long, I will hug you.) And in trying not to flirt with people he's moaning to me about it.

And now I'm moaning to you. It's like the big circle of MOAN.

Or a pyramid of moan, since you can't moan to him about me moaning about him. Or if you can, please don't!

....

Wait, I didn't tell you his name, and as far as I know, none of you know him, so I'm in the free and clear!

Woopdedoo and PANTS!

Okay, moaning/storytime over. I just used all of you like a diary.  Keep these secrets I have told you until you are cold and in the grave. And like Andrew Marvill said, you can't date in the grave. Or, well, Marvill didn't say that. He implied it though. I had my English midterm today - can you tell?

I feel like I've wittered on enough, like a wittering thing meant to witter away.  I'll let you get back to your lives. They are probably much more interesting than mine.

Parting joke:

Two chemists walk into a bar. The first guy says to the bartender "Hey, I'll have some H2O!" The second guy goes "That sounds good. I'll have some H2O2."
The second guy died.

Love and kisses,
Jen

Life Is An STD That Is Always Fatal

Lovelypoos! I'm back!  I'm not dead!  I didn't fall off the face of the earth!  I wasn't eaten by rabid walruses!  I just had a really big history project due, and that took up all of my time.  It won't happen again.  Kidding, it probably will happen.  All the time.  So sorry about that.

I'm going to confess something to you all that I haven't actually confessed out loud, not even when I'm talking to myself.

Prepare yourselves for what may seem like deep-rooted self esteem issues mixed in with some adolescent hormonal moaning.  But don't worry; It's just sleep deprivation.

I'm afraid that I'm defective.  I know that that sounds awful and terrible, but I do.  I have two friends, yes?  I have them in most of my classes, and during PE we sit in the corner of the gymnasium on the mats and talk about stuff (yes, for all of you who are wondering, I'm passing this class with an A, thank you very much).  Mostly the stuff we talk about is boys, because we are girls. 

Now my two friends, both of them openly have crushes on boys, I guess is the way to put it.  Both of them have had multiple boyfriends and they both get boys to like them really easily.

Here is where I feel like I'm defective.  I can't get a guy to like me.  Like ever.  I've had a grand total of one boyfriend, and that was for fifteen minutes in the sixth grade.  I've never been kissed, and I doubt any self-respecting guy has even thought about kissing me, regardless of how horny he was.

And I don't feel a need to always like a guy.  I haven't 'had a crush' since sixth grade.  At least on anyone attainable.  I have 'idea crushes', as in, I love the idea of someone, like a celebrity.  Or I get really attached to a voice.  Or a character in a book.  But not on anyone real.  Does that make me defective?  Or weird?

I am kind of worried that I'm going to end up lonely and alone because I have trouble making connections with people.  I feel like people think that I'm aloof.  I guess sometimes I do act like that.  It's my own fault.  I act aloof and use caustic sarcasm as a way to hide the fact that I have no idea how to act and that I actually am quite shy.

People have said that one of my great qualities is no fear to talk to strangers and a vast knowledge that allows me to relate to anyone.  If only they knew.

Okay, so that was deeply personal, I'm so sorry that I just subjected you to that.

I love you all.  Seriously.

Parting joke:

Why did the dolphin commit suicide?

Because his life had no porpoise!

Love and kisses,

L.

If You Fit These Requirements, Find Me Right Away And Propose Marriage

Confession time: I've only had one boyfriend. And it was in sixth grade and it only lasted the time it takes to walk in between classes, so I don't think that it counts. Also, I'm in the Never Been Kissed Club. In fact, I'm the Chairman. Chairwoman. Chairgirl. Whatever, you get my point.

Anyway, my solidarity has not been forcibly thrust upon me, but there are a few reasons why I am not shackled in a doomed relationship at the current date and time. One of the reasons is that the town I live in is so obscenely small and I've known all of the boys in it for far too long. They all have an idea of who I am - a very intelligent smart ass (I never said that they were wrong!) - and they really don't feel like trying to get to know me any better. Pity for them.

I am A-OK with this. I wouldn't want to date any of the guys I know anyway. My two closest guy friends are insane. One is a cat-worshipping atheist with an IQ so high I wonder why he meows all the time, and the other is an amazing track star who has issues with touching and expressing emotions.

I wish that I could make stuff like this up.

I really do.

Another reason why I am not dating a male of this species is that I feel that I, as a person, am so not emotionally mature enough to deal with it. Seriously. I have the emotional range of a spoon. Less than that. I have the emotional range of the spork, the sterile offspring of the fork and the spoon. My friends all are very interested in boys, and while I do agree that they are often nice to look at and talk to, I don't feel the deep seated need to prove myself as an adequate female by dating. All that can wait until college. Besides, high school guys are soooo passe. I kid. Not really.

A final reason is that I am quite an adept story teller.

Why is this important, you wonder, scratching your heads and sipping your tea thoughtfully.

I'll tell you - As a story teller, writer, future millionaire, what have you, I create characters. Lots and lots of characters. And quite a few of these characters are boys.

Catch my drift?

I have, in my head, created my perfect man. Boy. Person. Shut up brain, they all get the point.

So, without further ado, here is my list of requirements for the perfect man. Or my perfect man. Screw it, this is what I find attractive.

JENNELLE'S LIST OF ATTRACTIVE ATTRIBUTES FOR MALES OF THE HUMAN SPECIES

1. Height - height is a necessity. I cannot marry a short guy. I'm 5 feet, 1 inch flat. I will not have midget children. We all saw what happened to Snooki. Although, if I did have midget children, I would pressure them into becoming actors and actresses, because the movie industry always needs their midgets. I'm already a horrible parent. Teehee.

2. Accents - Of any way, shape, or form. I love all accents. Especially British ones. Yummy scrumboes. Just pretend to have an accent and you will have me falling into a pile of girlish jello on the ground, giggling like a girlish pile of jello that is a homicidal maniac.

3. Religion - I know that this sounds weird, but since I'm Jewish, I kind of want to marry someone Christian, or some other religion. My mum is a lapsed Irish Catholic, and my dad is a non-practicing Reform Jew. What does that make me? A Jew who celebrates Christmas and Easter, along with Hanukkah and Passover. I feel more culturally attached to Judaism, and consider myself Jewish, but I want my kids to have the multi-religious celebrations in their life. I think that you find a greater appreciation for all things when you see all of the sides of the dice. So religion is important. And I won't be able to marry anyone who doesn't let me teach my children about what I believe in. Shit just got real, right? Next one's vapid.

4. Marginally More Attractive Than I Am - That way, when people see me with him, especially women, they will look at me and go "Lucky BITCH!!!" But I don't want him to be so much more attractive than me that when people look at me and him they go "Why the hell is that poor sucker with that night troll?" I do have standards for myself.

5. No Mental Illnesses - Seriously, homicidal maniacs are good for a laugh and all, and multiple personality disorderlies are just full of shits and giggles, and schizos are just a barrel of monkeys, but there is a point where you have to draw the line and be like "WHOA, you just stabbed the couch and told it that if it tried to make a move on me you would kill its family. I'm going."

6. Muscles Are Appreciated, But Not A Necessity - I do like muscles as much as the next girl, but honestly they aren't necessary. It's the 21st century. If we were back in the days of the CroMagnon, then yes, I'd like a guy with muscles to protect me with from all of the woolly mammoths and saber-toothed tigers roaming around outside of our cave. But, like I said, it's the 21st century. The only thing my guy would have to protect me from is the yappy chihuahua that lives down the street. But a six pack is nice.

7. Has To Like Rock Music - This is a necessity. I love rock music. I live on rock music. When I was little, my dad introduced me to the Beatles in chronological order. I am a music nerd. So my theoretical guy must like music. All music. Except country music. Country music can burn in HELL.

8. Cannot Make Fun Of My Love Of Musical Theater - And should preferably be into acting himself. Example: Joey Richter (Ron in A Very Potter Musical).

9. Has To Be A Literature Geek - The answer to life is 42. Deep Thought told me that. I woke up one morning and found that I couldn't open the door because the doorknob made me feel sick and empty on the inside. If you're going to leave Verona, take a phone with you and text me your plans. I wouldn't want you to die on me. I will never grow up. I will fight that stupid hooked man until I die, but I never will, so HAHAHA I crow! It is common knowledge that a lit geek in want of another lit geek should find one eventually. If you got any of that, you are my love.

10. Has To Be Musical - I know that that is a lot to ask, but a guy gets exponentially hotter to me if he can play an instrument. Seriously.

11. GEEKY - This has to happen. I want one of those awesome nerdy relationships where we meet at ComiCon and end up having a wedding cake that is a chimera of PacMan and Star Wars. I want him to say "I love you" first, so I can say "I know", like Leia did to Han in The Return of the Jedi. I need this guy to be OK with consoling me when I cry inconsolably at Toy Story and Finding Nemo. I need this guy to be OK with me laughing at Saw, which I found so horribly overdone and fake. I need this guy to have debates with me over who Buffy was better with, Spike or Angel (it was Spike, the way. Forever and ever. "I love you." "No you don't. But thanks for saying it." I cried so hard.) (If you got what I was talking about there, I love you.). I need this guy to be okay when I leave him for David Tennant.

12. Movie Buff - "Oh Captain, my Captain." "Such obscene gestures from such a pristine girl." "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." "You bob for apples in the toilet, and you like it!" "There is no try, only do." "Do you remember that time we dipped you in tar and stuck you to the back of an angry water buffalo?" "'Where are my pants?' 'They're in my hope chest!'" "Lighten up, Francis." "I would rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without ever knowing you." "Seriously, don't call me Shirley." If you know what movies any of the quotes above are from, I love you forever.

13. Must Have Heaping Portions Of Sarcasm And Witticisms To Spare - I pride myself on sometimes having an acerbic wit, and I would like whoever I end up shacking up with to at least be on the same level as me. In other words, my dream guy must be incredibly quick-witted. I love good verbal foreplay.

14. Black Hair, Blue Eyes - I don't know what it is, but something about this combination is just really sexy to me. I also want blue eyed kids, and I know for a fact that I carry a recessive blue-eye allele.

15. Disregard Everything Above - For the most part. I do like certain things (science fiction TV shows from Britain, movies, Rock music, being sarcastic) but honestly, I don't care about any of it. So long as a guy is respectful, treats me right, and feels the same way about me that I feel about him, I could give a flying fuck about anything else. I am a hopeless romantic under all of these onion-y layers of poisonous wit and sarcastic barbs. I may seem cynical but underneath it all I really am just a wide eyed little kid who has no idea about love or anything that resembles it. I kind of just bared my soul there, so don't laugh. Or I will kill you and hide your body in the bog in my backyard, and in 2000 years it will be found, perfectly preserved, with the words "Hello From The Past" legible on your back where I wrote it in indelible ink. I'm not creepy at all.

Yeah, so that was my extremely long, involved list that ultimately didn't mean anything at all. I hope you enjoyed reading it. I certainly had fun creating it. (I lie; I spent hours slaving over it, quietly crying into my pillow as I agonized over the right words.) (I lie; it took me about an hour and I didn't proofread, so no hating on my spelling mishaps.)

So, um...

I hate ending posts.

Parting joke:

What do you call a sick alligator?

An illigator!

I know, I know, so lame. I collect lame jokes as a hobby. No judging.

Big sopping kisses to you all.