Easter Food Trouble

31 03 2013


I am so totally gaining weight this week. Oy vey.

First, my mother makes a ham. I love me some ham. Especially with sweet potatoes, which we also made. So yesterday was yum yum yum ham time.

But then today we went out for lunch with my aunt for Easter. (They went to church. I did not. I slept, showered, and walked the dog.)

I got a bowl of tomato bisque soup with fried basil-yum yum yum. It was a little creamy and with a little fresh pepper very pleasing.

Then I got-hold the phone-a bacon cheddar burger on brioche with rum barbecue sauce and fries. I did not finish either, but not because of a lack of desire. The bacon wasn’t too crispy and tasted of wood smoke, there was garlic aioli on the side, the fries with super thin but not too crunchy…I could have eaten it all, but I took the rest home. Weight Watchers Lesson Victory!

But then came my Achilles’ heel, my kryptonite, my greatest weakness: dessert, shared with my mother. Three miniature desserts-molten chocolate cake (which is pretty common, but was very well done, topped with vanilla ice cream), peach apple cobbler (oh god, I loved it, with caramel ice cream), and lemon souffle cake thing (pleasing to the tongue, with fresh whipped cream and raspberries). I got a tingle from that dessert trio, yes I did.

Then I got home, and my godmother’s son came over on his way home (from a monastery-he’s getting really into his religion), with fast friendly apple pie. And I had some. It was also delicious.

It is almost eight o’clock. I have a chocolate bunny from Lindt, leftover burger and fries, ham and sweet potato, and more pie. I am in so much trouble.

Happy Easter, however (or if) you celebrate, everyone!

Sincerely yours,



Two Things Of Note

15 03 2013


Seriously, there’s only two things that this post is going to talk about because I don’t feel like writing an essay tonight.

Thing One.

I have 18 followers on this blog. How, I have no idea, because I don’t advertise this blog anywhere, and the description of this blog is essentially ‘J.J talks about her life, rambles, and occasionally talks about sex’. Who is reading this? I assume everyone is attracted by my unique voice and I’ll just go on with it.

That being said, everyone who follows me, thank you very much! It makes me smile that I manage to amuse/entertain/confuse/upset this minuscule corner of the internet. My own little footprint. Yay! But I think I should try to reach a larger audience. Maybe I should talk about sex more. People like sex, right? And violence and explosions! …maybe that’s just the American public in general. We have such a lousy global reputation. (Also, still haven’t heard from BB. Sigh. I’m pretty over him, but still. He amuses me and he’s adorable.)

And now-

Thing Two.

This. This is a song. This upsets me greatly. Do you know why?

Because the first ten seconds (and indeed the chorus) of this song consists of ‘Ass. Ass. Ass. Ass. Ass. Ass.’

What. The fuck. Have the stands of American music fallen so far? I mean, I’m not saying that there haven’t been raunchy songs. Songs about butts, even. But there is a universe of difference between ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, which is celebrating women with big butts and their apparent good time value and the entire song is ‘Hey big women let’s get busy’, and a song that…that…I can’t even describe it. I mean, the chorus of the song is just ‘Ass.’ I mean, I can come up with a better chorus right now. Um…

Big booty got the shout

You got one, stick it out

Real women have curves

I see ’em I swerve

Come on big girls let’s go!

…okay, that was terrible, but you see what I mean. This song fills me with despair. The fact that someone was paid some exorbitant amount of money to write, produce, and perform that song depresses me. I’m going to listen to Bruce Springsteen.

Sincerely yours,


Everyone On Glee Tonight Was A Tool, and My Uterus Hates Me

14 03 2013

The thing I liked the most about Glee tonight:

Santana doing a Paula Abdul song that I’ve never heard before with many sexy female dancers. You know, sometimes I forget I’m bi. Then I see stuff like that and I remember. Partly because Naya Rivera is so.damn.hot.

The rest of the hour…yeah. Let’s see, Sue was being Nicki Minaj, who irritates me beyond belief merely by existing. Jane Lynch made it funny, but god that was annoying. The new Glee kids basically went from ‘Roar, we are angry and nonsensical’  to ‘Yay, we’re friends again! And still nonsensical!’ Finn and Will were immature dicks the entire episode. And there’s the Brody situation.

Okay, fine. Brody is a male prostitute. That sleeps with women, just to be clear. He has not told Rachel this, which is a dick move, and Santana is right to try and out him on that point. But Finn, apparently, thinks it’s okay to try and beat him up and tell him to ‘stay away from [his] future wife.’

Boys and girls, that’s not romantic. That’s creepy/possessive/psycho. Brody needs to admit his job to Rachel, Rachel needs to manage her own crap instead of letting Santana run around doing whatever she wants, and Finn needs to get a life. I know this show rarely makes sense, but the way they present Finn and Rachel’s relationship is just unhealthy. And creepy.

And finally, the only people who didn’t irritate me in this episode were Brittney (who was nowhere to be seen for no reason that I remember), and Kurt, who was onscreen for about twenty seconds. Can we get Kurt a story line, please? It’d be more interesting than Ryder’s online romance or Finn’s life searching BS. Anyways. The other thing I was excited about? The preview for next week. Most of it, I don’t remember, but I do seem to remember Blaine asking Sam if he has feelings for him. If they actually make Sam bisexual, that would rock my world. A bisexual character who is sweet, doesn’t sleep with everything that moves, and doesn’t seem likely to suddenly find out that they’re actually gay, a la Santana? Sign me up! I’m sorry, as a bisexual, I would be very happy for bisexuality to be represented by a character that doesn’t turn out to be a. crazy, b. promiscuous, c. dead, or d. all of the above. So, fingers crossed for next week!


Now, onto my uterus! Or really, my biological clock. There was a Gerber commerical, and I said, out loud, “I wanna be a mommy!” Cue record screech hold the phone break a glass full stop.

No. No. No. No. I am losing my goddamn mind. I am so far away from where I would want to be in relation to becoming a mother that it’s not even funny. Apparently my biological clock is calling on my lack of fulfillment and both are now trying to get me to become someone’s baby mama.

My response to this: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. I have too many things to do and enough to fit my head around without trying to survive pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood. I should probably go back on the pill as soon as I can pay for it, just to be on the safe side. I have to remember how much I like not being a mother. I have to remember that. I have to.


And, to round out the post, a bit about American Idol, which I keep encountering because my mother is watching it. The judges are too nice and say the same crap over and over, but that’s not the worst part. Can anyone guess what I think the worst part is? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? (Sorry. Had to.)

That’s right, Nicki Minaj. Oh god she’s so terrible. She makes no sense, she’s weird in an obnoxious way, and really, I would pay real money to have Mariah Carey (and why is her name pronounced Ma-rai-ah? English makes no sense) punch her in the throat and be all ‘I am so much more than you’ and then they can compare their vocal ranges without a laser light show and Techno Lights can go away.

…okay, done now.

Now, I have work to do on my novel. Well, more work on my novel. Tee hee.

Sincerely yours,


The End of Greek Guy

11 03 2013

It’s like the title says.

Greek Guy is no more.

I went to his place, we started cooking dinner. Then he wants to make out, and I was beyond not into it. His mouth was too wet and he kept moving it around too much and I just felt like I was getting slobbered on by a strange dog. He even gave me a massage, and the closest I got to a tingle was a little tension relief.

He is very sweet, but I don’t think that we would have gone anywhere when I had no desire to get physical with him. We might have made decent friends, but lovers? Not a chance in hell. I just wasn’t attracted to him. Sleeping with him because he treated me to dinners and treats and drinks, without really wanting to do it, would have made me feel like a prostitute. Or like I was being violated, because the most I could have done was get on my hands and knees and let him go at it.

So I put my shirt back on and we ate dinner, but then he pushed me against the wall. Now, that might have swayed the old me. A little physical dominance is pretty sexy. All I felt was panic, and I pushed him away. I told him we didn’t have physical chemistry, put my coat on. He offered to pay for a cab, but I wasn’t comfortable with that, so I took the train home.

I’m a little sad, because on paper he was great and I think he was sad that I left. But the rest of me? Feels free, and a little more confident, because he was entirely sane, good job, gentleman if a little too familiar-and he liked me. And I’m happy that I was confident enough to be able to say that I wasn’t comfortable, that I could walk away. So it’s all good.

And I’m surprised that I’m so okay with being single (well, not dating, I was still single, whatever), because I haven’t heard from BB in weeks at this point. So that little chapter is closed too. Oddly enough, it hasn’t crushed the travel bug in me. I want to see other countries again. Japan should be first, I think. Or second, because I want to be in the Caribbean more than anywhere else. With my new sexy body, I’m wearing size ten jeans right now and I am beyond happy about it. I also found a little dress in a thrift shop, size ten, and I look so smoking in it you’d think I was a house on fire. Wore it to a party on Friday and felt like I was being eaten up by people’s eyes. I worked hard for this body, so now I’m motivated to keep going. And I’ll live longer, and when I get older I will be able to maintain my weight because I’m used to exercising. I hope. I don’t want to get all fat when I’m old. Though I reserve the right to think about a tummy tuck and fixing my boobs if child bearing keeps me squishy.

Now, I have to check craigslist and maybe do another excel tutorial, so I bid you all good night!

Sincerely yours,


Sexist Commercials

6 03 2013

Why are commercials insisting on perpetuating sexist ideas?

For instance, of all the commercials for cleaning products, the only ones I can remember that feature a man in any prominence are for Viva paper towels, and even that man is not really using the product; his mother is cleaning up his messes, including his filthy body. As for the rest, they only prominently feature women, many of whom seem to enjoy cleaning to the point of ecstasy.  Notable exceptions are some commercials for Swiffer, which do feature women, but Swiffer claims to save these women time to do things that they enjoy.

I am aware that the purpose of a commercial is to sell its product, and that a product producing happiness will induce more customers to buy, and that perhaps pandering to these ideas boosts sales but is there really a need to perpetuate the notions that only women clean, women enjoy cleaning, or that men either don’t clean at all or are completely inept at it? Such notions don’t encourage feelings of equality between the genders; children watching are going to get the idea that women clean with enjoyment and that men either can’t clean or don’t have to.

Speaking as a woman who would be insulted if gifted with a domestic product (not like this, that would be awesome) such as a vacuum cleaner, I do not enjoy cleaning. Cleaning is a royal pain in the ass, and it has to be done consistently, and there are several other things that I would rather be doing. So I would rather not have the idea that, should I come to live with a man, cleaning the house is my job and he is doing me an enormous favor when he picks up his dishes and there isn’t any mold in his man-cave, which must be kept separate from my fastidiously clean ladies’ sitting room.

Okay, rant for the day over!

Now, about Greek Guy. We are having a cooking dinner date on Sunday, since there’s going to be a storm, which is not really ice skating weather. I might have sex with him. I don’t know. Maybe it turns out that he’s a demon in bed and he’s very quiet about it. This is probably not the case because he still can’t kiss. But this is going to be my way of taking him for one last test drive before I decide whether or not to keep dating him. Maybe once he has sex with me he’ll get bored. Who knows? But it seems less likely, going by today’s text: ‘Hi, still at work. Will call you from home. Kisses. :)’ I don’t think A ended a text that cutely in the entirety of our relationship, and I don’t know if I’m a little bothered because I have issues and it’s all ‘OMG I can’t handle emotions and kindness’ or it’s actually that I’m just not that into him. I’ve never been in the position that the other party is into me and I’m not so into them. It’s usually either the other way around, or there’s a sort of a mutual emotional disregard or indifference. Maybe I will learn something from this.

But in the meantime, I have a little shopping to do, side dishes to plan, and a make out party to attend on Friday. No, Greek Guy is not invited or being filled in. Is this cheating? I don’t think we have an exclusive relationship, so I guess not, but if we do get exclusive I guess we’ll have to talk about it.

I picked out an outfit for the party, but I think I need new shoes. And maybe a new top. And I’m broke. To the thrift shop! But not tomorrow, tomorrow is writing day.

Good night all!

Sincerely yours,


What To Do About Dating

4 03 2013

Okay, so I went on another date with Greek Guy. He’s so sweet, and gentlemanly, pays for everything (I think he’s spent more money on me on two dates than A did in the entirely of our relationship. Granted, I’m pretty sure Greek Guy has way more money, but still), and he seems to love to listen to me talk.

What’s the problem, right?


I’m…not that attracted to him. I love the way he treats me, but it’s pretty obvious that he wants to have sex with me, and I don’t think I want to. Part of it is that he really can’t kiss. He moves his lips around in a weird way, like he’s trying to eat my mouth and his facial hair bugs me and it’s odd. I mean, when he moves in to kiss me I’m like ‘Oh god not again’, and I don’t think that’s a reaction I should be having to a man who is treating me well and spending money on me and trying to build a relationship with me. Can you grow chemistry with someone? Because right now it’s like ‘He’s sweet, he’s kind and I am getting no kind of tingle from him whatsoever’.

I mean, I’m glad I’ve even managed to continue dating, it’s a great experience, but I’m going to do a comparison to when I first saw BB. I spotted BB across the room and my whole body went ‘Oh, yes, I want that!’ I saw Greek Guy and I went ‘Oh, good, he’s normal looking.’ Fine, so you don’t have instant sparks with every date. But I don’t feel any, at least not yet. Maybe it’s because I’m still all enthralled with BB. I’m overthinking this. Heaven forbid I just roll with anything and enjoy it. We have vague plans to go ice skating later this week, and since it involves physical activity and not food I might just get a little romance buzz. We shall see.

In other news, Big C is both opening for a band (whose name escapes me, it’s like Vertical Mongoose or something, they’re English and the drummer is hot, apparently) and playing base for them too, so that’s super exciting for him, and I can’t wait to see him play. He says I’ll like the music. (And maybe hit on the drummer. I am weak.)

Also, if you slice potatoes into circles, brush them with a little olive oil and grill them on a grill pan, that is better than french fries. Mmm. If you couldn’t  tell, I’m hungry.

Geez, this post is all over the place. Hmm.

Oh, I learned that lavender oil and water will cleanse my hair without drying it out-yay for info on curly hair. I’m growing out the relaxer in my hair and keeping it natural. I have very curly hair, and I think I should embrace it. And stop wearing it in a ponytail everyday, it’s getting tired. I’d love to try something like this for a night out:

How romantic!


But I might want to actually practice, say, braid my hair first. I can’t even do that. It’s just that I have so much damn hair to begin with it’s almost overwhelming. Maybe I should cut it.

Also, for some reason one of my peppers has no seeds. And stupid WordPress won’t let me put a picture of it, but it’s just weird.

Just for fun. a list of things my silly incorrigible dog got a hold of today:

1. A sneaker sock.

2. A black sock.

3. A charm.

4. A nickel.

5. A burger wrapper. (Which he ate.)

6. A paperclip.

Tomorrow, my attempts on commentary on sexism in commercials.

Sincerely yours,