Everything's Better with Butter

2010: The Year of Sorrow, Envy, and Tears

2010-12-02T22:12:00.001-05:00

Envy: Best defined as an emotion that "occurs when a person lacks another's (perceived) superior quality, achievement, or possession and either desires it or wishes that the other lacked it."

Sorrow: Deep distress, sadness, or regret especially for the loss of someone or something loved.

I’ve been meaning to get all this out for a while now but never seem to be in the right head space to do so at the right time. In short, 2010 was a year I would like to forget for far too many reasons, basically from beginning right on through to the end. Let’s set to the scene for January 2010. I was working at my first ‘real’ job and had been there just short of a year. I was basically promoted (just not given the office, title, or salary) and loving my job and my boss. On the personal side, we were watching my grandmother rapidly decline after suffering for YEARS from Alzheimer’s. It actually shoots back to November of 2009, when we got a call on Thanksgiving morning that she was being taking to the ER. She did seem to recover after that, quite well actually, until early February when things changed for the worse.

February 2010: My grandmother’s health continues to decline. It becomes quickly apparent that she will not be with us much longer. In the meantime, at work, the only boss I ever truly enjoyed working for and loved as a person, was let go. Not really a big deal in the grand scheme of life, but it changed my work life entirely. Work life is now temporarily in limbo. Last trip to the nursing home, I know that will be the last time I ever see my grandmother. Tears are shed not realizing quite how bad she was, up until that point most of the news regarding her failing health had come via email. Looking at her was like déjà vu of when I saw her sister in the hospital a few years ago right before she died. She was clearly suffering and straining to breath, all the while not knowing what was going on due to her dementia. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been. I prayed every night to my grandfather to please come and take her home. A few short days later she passed away peacefully with her son by her side. She was my last remaining grandparent. I had lost my grandfather back when I was in middle school and my other grandmother in my early 20’s. I understand how blessed I was to have them in my life at all, let alone for as long as I did, but that doesn’t make it any easier when you lose them. This particular grandmother I was extremely close with. She lived behind us growing up and I talked with her every day on the phone as a child if I didn’t see her in person. She always came shopping with us. In middle school I would walk to her apartment and we would hang out. We would watch tennis together, talk about the Giants, play Kings in the Corner…. She was a HUGE presence in my life. Most importantly, she was one person who I knew was and would always be proud of me no matter what, even if I wasn’t proud of myself. And she would tell me so. She often told me too how proud she was of me. A grandparent is a cheerleader, a supporter, a babysitter, a teacher, and an overall source of unending love. Losing my grandmother left a huge hole in my heart and I knew it was going to be a long road back up for a lot of us. In addition to my grief, I had to watch some of the strongest people I know lose control of their emotions. I had to watch some of the strongest people I know cry who I had Never seen cry before.

February 2010 ended with my 30^th birthday, a birthday I had been dreading as I thought it was the year I would officially be ‘old’. It ended up being one of the best and worst birthdays to date. I enjoyed an amazing time with both my family and friends, but at the end of the day, my birthday is something that I share with my grandmother and I had done so since birthday #1. It was hard to not have her there with me (even if she hadn’t really been with me for years). Every year when our birthdays come around, which are 2 days apart, I will drink to her and all the amazing things she has done for me. I still miss her every day.

March 2010: The family is still mourning the loss of our matriarch and work has gone from limbo to shit with the addition of a new boss. My parents get a phone call from a cousin we hadn’t heard from in way too many years. My Uncle Ralph was in heart failure. My father and I went to see him in the nursing home. I don’t think he realized who I was, but I believe he could tell my father was there. He took my father’s hand, unable to speak, but they had a moment none the less. Being in the nursing home reminded me of all the sad times and also the funny times at my grandmother’s nursing home. At a certain point we learned to laugh at the situation. Laughter is a survival mechanism and it keeps you going. If you are able to laugh at yourself or the situation, you’ll no doubt be ok in the long run. We stayed for a while by his bedside and left, again, just as the prior month, knowing this would be the last time I would be seeing Ralph. Ralph was my favorite of all my father’s aunts and uncles. He was my grandfather’s brother and for some reason I just had a magnetic pull toward him every time I saw him. I loved him dearly through the years whether he was in my life or not. His death led to a slew of regrets which I am still struggling with and working to rectify In the future. Your family is your family, we are only here on earth for a short time. We need to make time for them; it’s selfish otherwise.

March 2010 also was the month that forever changed my friendships, old and new. It took 30 years but I had the first ‘fight’ if you even wanna call it that. Not to dive deep in to this one, but it left me scarred and slightly untrusting and fearful in relationships from that point forward. The month did end on a stressful but happy note as I got to give me new boss a big FU. Exactly as I had laid out I would love for it to happen, I was officially promoted, given an office and a pathetic raise, and I gave my notice a week later to move back to a job I had been trying to get back to for years.

April 2010: A relatively uneventful month that ended with the burial of my grandmother. She was being buried in NY State and they were unable to dig in to the ground until the winter months were over. It was an overwhelming trip to say the least. Lots of emotions, lots of family I hadn’t seen in years, and one very final goodbye.

May 2010: Uncle Bill’s Party! The family gathered together for a beautiful party to celebrate the 96 years of Uncle Bill. They did so at 96 because they knew it would most likely be the last, and sadly it would be. It was great to reconnect with cousins I hadn’t seen in years, but again, you can’t help but feel full of regret. Bill and Joan lived in Kearny, less than an hour away. Why did I never stop over for a visit or make plans to have a nice dinner and talk and catch up? At the end of the party I watched Bill’s remaining sisters say goodbye to him. I watched my Aunt Mae in particular say goodbye to her brother. It was so horribly sad watching this as Mae knew it would be the last time she would see Bill. Little did I know that would also be the last time I would see Mae.

June 2010: June started out as a good month for me. I saw Paula Deen and the new Giants stadium. By this point I had rekindled some old friendships at the new/old job and found and developed some wonderful new ones. Hung out with the posse in Philly, went to the Tony rehearsal with my mom, and ended the month with a posse trip to the beach. The day we were set to head for the beach we got word that one of our college mates had lost her short battle with cancer. Short of her 30^th birthday, Caroline was the first person that had died, that was my age and shared many of the same passions as me. It was the first time I saw death as being ageless and nondiscriminatory. Beautiful Caroline lost her battle on June 25.

July 2010: A few short weeks later, on July 9^th, Uncle Bill passed away. While this was extremely sad for everyone, it was actually one of the first wakes I kind of enjoyed attending. Saying that out loud kind of seems inappropriate but what I mean by that is that Uncle Bill lived an amazing 96 years! He was one of the happiest men I ever knew who was filled with such energy and love. It was more of a celebration of his life than anything else. Out of this tragedy came a newfound friendship with cousins I hadn’t seen since we were all kids…and little kids at that. I can only hope that these friendships live on for a long time.

August 2010: August 23^rd, my Uncle Ralph’s beautiful wife Phyllis passed away. Suffering from dementia at the end and afflicted by what I am sure was a broken heart, she passed away 5 short months after her beloved husband. My poor cousin Joanne has lost both her parents and her children their grandparents. I am only grateful that I had the courage to go and speak to her at the repast as it would be my last chance to do so.

September 2010: September 10^th, my Aunt Mae lost her battle with cancer. I drove down the shore with my mother and entered the funeral home not recognizing anyone. Again, the regrets come rushing back. Why do I not know any of my own aunt’s family? Why do I not recognize my own cousins? Are they all looking at me and wondering who I am and why I’m there? All these deaths and all these regrets!

October/November 2010: I think October is when I started my own personal decent in to the world of depression. Not that “I wanna kill myself” people need to worry kind of depression, just overall sadness and discontent with my life. I was hoping to be moved in to a fabulous apartment by Oct 1^st and that didn’t happen and I fear at this rate I won’t find a place for quite some time. The search, while it may not seem like a big deal, to me represents the huge and unnecessary detour I took in my life leaving me behind where I wanted to be at this point. Sadly, with the economy and times the way they are, I know plenty of people my age who are living at home. It’s not that I’m ashamed or embarrassed, but it’s my time to go. I’m craving the independence and the privacy and the decorating! I want my own space to call my own. So, not the worst thing in the world not being able to find an apartment, but it’s annoying to say the least.

This is where the envy comes in to play. I have been ‘alone’ my whole life. I thought, because a damn psychic told me, that I would be married at 26. Not that I ever really wanted that big wedding with 400 people in attendance because that is so far from what I want….But, I do want to be married and I do want kids, that I have always craved. It seems as if this year, at least half of my facebook friends had babies. And while I am extremely happy for each and every one of them, it kills me every time I hear that another friend is pregnant. When you tell people a little of how you feel, you get the same response, “You’ll have them when it’s the right time.” Or “It’ll happen for you.” Unless you are looking in to a crystal ball, what you are saying is a bunch of bullshit in an attempt to comfort me and it only makes things worse. It’s been building up and getting worse to the point where I have a hard time listening to anyone talk about their kids. Especially when it becomes the “My life meant nothing until I had kids.” Or “Being a mother is the best thing that ever happened to me.” While I’m sure that is true, every time I hear it, and again, I am happy for these people, but I feel like a piece of me dies and I plunge deeper and deeper in to despair for lack of a better word.

On top of that, I have become equally as envious of those in “happy” and “perfect” relationships; any relationship for that matter. While I used to think I would be perfectly content raising a baby on my own (which is nowhere near financially feasible for me anyway), I don’t think I feel that way anymore. The reason for this change is two-fold. Two of my chronically single friends are now in relationships. And not just relationships, but extremely lovey dovey insanely happy perfect relationships which I have no doubt will end in marriage. I am now left the only single girl and all these people talk about are their significant others. Part two of this is that I met a man that makes me believe there actually are good guys out there, something that I have seriously doubted in the past. I’ve seen now how strong love can be, how amazing some people can be, how kind and generous they can be, and that some guys Will stand by you through better or worse. Seeing that this ‘ideal man’ exists makes me want to find one of my own. If they are indeed out there, and maybe one that will love ME unconditionally, why would I not want that? I imagine they are few and far between, but I have hope that someone is out there for me. I can recognize that my lack of love for myself and especially my body is to blame for why I have always been alone. You can’t love someone else until you love yourself or something like that anyway. I’m working on it but it seems to be backfiring at this point in time.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. It’s honestly a wonder that people even want to be around me these days, although with the exception of my co-workers, none of my friends even have a clue about any of this. I told people today that I should just become an asshole and give up completely on caring about anything. Nice girls don’t get anywhere anyway, they only get shit on and taken advantage of. And while the latter may be true, I don’t want to become the miserable cranky bitch I feel like I’m slowly becoming. I’m usually a kind person and it’s killing me that I can’t stop acting this way. The worst part is that I feel like I am being the bitchiest to the one person that seems to care the most. It’s because this person represents that “ideal man” I mentioned before. The one that I didn’t think existed until now. He just reminds me of what I now know I do want, but fear. I AM an asshole, or I wouldn’t be acting this way, but it stems from envy. There is a reason that envy is one of the 7 deadly sins. Doesn’t make sense to act poorly to the one person that is actually trying to help.

November 30^th my cousin Tori lost her battle with cancer. In many ways I always releated to Tori even though I didn’t know her well. The most I spoke with her was coincidentally at my grandmother’s wake earlier this year. I don’t want to wait too long to let love in to my life and then lose it like Tori and Craig sadly did.

I recognize I have a lot of work to do on myself. I have hopes for the future that it will be brighter. Stop living in regret but make an effort to prevent it in the future, stop living full of sorrow but remember all the beautiful times you shared and live a life that would make your lost loved ones proud, and stop living in a world of hate, fear and envy and learn to love yourself or it will be impossible to love someone else and for them to love you in return.

I’m looking forward to 2011. I have shed more tears this year than in all the years past and I need to put the tears behind me. Onward and upward to a more positive and beautiful future. I am the only one in the way here. It’s going to be a very tough road, but this is the fork and I need to choose the road toward happiness.

3:1

2010-06-09T23:50:00.002-04:00

The other day, within 3 hours I received 3 messages via 3 different forms of communication informing me that 3 women of 3 different generations had 3 different types of terminal cancer. 3 women, 3 generations, one thing in common….cancer.

To this point, my life has been rather unaffected by cancer. Many of my relatives have been diagnosed and beaten it, mostly before I was old enough to truly understand their situation or the true horror of what cancer has the potential to do. When it’s not in your immediate sights, I don’t think you can really understand what it does and how many people are affected by one diagnosis. I was certainly one of those people. As time goes on, I am losing more and more people in my life. As terrifying as that may be, and being something I have always struggled with, it’s an inevitability. We are all gonna face death one day and I can only hope that something even better lies ahead. Tragically however, life isn’t as peaceful or lengthy for some people.

For reasons only known to God I guess, some people’s lives are tragically cut short, some suffering for years. I can easily see why people turn away from faith. Why the hell would an All Loving God create so much suffering in the world??? Just turn on the news and you’ll here about countless murders, mother nature taking out thousands within seconds, disease upon disease taking lives left and right…..

My outlook on life has been grim of late. How can you hear about these 3 beautiful women and not feel…..just so angry…..sad….confused….and full of so much empathy. It feels somewhat insensitive to go on with your contented life knowing full well what these women will be going through for the next few months. What right do I have to be happy when these women are suffering? How can I plan my future when theirs have been taken away? How selfish it seems to complain about having to clean or do laundry or not be able to afford the latest technology. It just seems wrong. I am angry that this disease is taking lives, I am sad for these women and their families and friends and quite honestly, I am terrified that that will be me someday.

We have cancer walks, beneifts, drives…but still no cure. We have made progress, but I think we all pray for the day that the cure is found. Cancer is taking the lives of these 3 women and millions more. One of these women is my age; a life literally cut before it’s prime. Another is my mother’s generation, recently married and finally happy, only to have everything ripped away. The third has lived a long and happy life that will end in suffering at the hand of this horrible horrible disease.

One of these women really could be me. If not me, certainly many people I care about will continue to be diagnosed. So what the hell do we do? What do the survivors left behind do to make sure that these women, men, and children are not forgotten and do not die without hope that someday there will be a cure? I feel like this has sparked a fire in me. While I’m not a neurosurgeon who can operate on a brain tumor, or a researcher in a lab working toward a cure, I can raise awareness, I can raise money and most importantly, I can make sure that those we lose are not forgotten.

Tonight I will be saying 3 special prayers for 3 special women. We all really do need to live each day to the fullest. We never know when our time will come. Love your family, love your friends, and be the kind of person you can be proud of when all is said and done.

Suffering

2010-01-29T21:25:00.001-05:00

There are so many things in my life I could write about but I keep coming back to the same thing….my grandmother. While I feel I have handled the situation presented to all of us well, on the outside anyway, there are many days I just think about what life has dealt her and it makes me want to cry.

Just recently on Thanksgiving, we had a mini grandma crisis. My mother, aunt and uncle and I spent most of our holiday in the emergency room after receiving a call that my grandmother was not doing well. Every time the phone rings and I hear it’s the nursing home, I automatically fear the worst. My grandmother is almost 90 years old and has been suffering from Alzheimer’s for many years now. There is only one way this story could end, and I always fear this time is it. This is the time we will go to the hospital, and she won’t be coming back.

Turns out she was suffering from the beginnings of double pneumonia as well as severe dehydration, which in itself can be life threatening. While in the ER awaiting the test results, another woman from my grandmother’s nursing home came in to the curtained room next door. I had actually gone to elementary school with two of her granddaughters. Now if you know me, I don’t handle death and sickness and sadness well. As the situation next door was coming to a quite tragic climax, I just stared at the machines that were monitoring my grandmother’s life signs. I watched every flash and heard every beep, anticipating that something would indeed happen. The woman next door was perfectly fine, enjoying some food and wine with her family when catastrophe struck. That could easily happen to us as well. Those distraught relatives being asked about a living will could have been us, and some day will be.

It’s also well known that when elderly people suffer severe illnesses or broken bones or have to undergo surgery, it often brings about a rapid decline. Being aware of all the factors, it was soon becoming quite a stressful situation.

When things turned around and I felt confident she was going to be ok, two nurses came in to do a very thorough exam of her, looking for any other issues, i.e. broken bones (check), bruises (check), or any other wounds (check). It was the first and hopefully last time I saw what a bedsore looked like. My recent calm had turned back to worry. Not only was I fully taking in that fact that my grandmother was suffering from Alzheimer’s, a broken bone, blisters, bruises, dehydration and double pneumonia, but now I realize she has also been living with a very serious sore that she is constantly putting pressure on. How much more can you put on a person? While they were checking her wound, it was the first time in years I saw pain in my grandmother’s eyes. She was in great pain and discomfort and a tear or two began to form in her eyes. Since she has been living in assisted living homes and nursing homes, I haven’t seen this kind of pain in her eyes. It was something that I didn’t want to see, but made me realize maybe she is aware of ALL the horrible things that are going on with her. Maybe she is suffering from all kinds of pain and we just have no way of knowing.

Recent visits have been harder. With her dehydration situation, her decline may become more rapid. We try our best every week to get liquid in her system, but short of forcing the drinks down her throat (which I feel like I sometimes do), there is nothing we can do.

Last week I saw fear in her face. Another thing I haven’t seen in quite a while. It was as if she was fully aware of everything and knew she couldn’t communicate any of her fears, pains, or feelings. You, yourself, begin to feel not only helpless, but guilty. Guilty as hell that you have put your loved one in a home. Guilty as hell that you don’t know what they want or need. And guilty as hell that you can’t do one goddamn thing about it.

I feel so envious of the dementia patients I see that live in a dream world and have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I would rather my grandmother think anything about her life other than the reality, even if that meant being completely verbal but not recognizing me.

I don’t remember how her one brother died but the other suffered an unimaginable decline as well with ALS. It was the reverse of her situation. While she (in the beginning) had a healthy body but was slowly losing her mind, he had a sharp mind with a body that became useless to him. I had to watch her sister slowly decline as well for reasons I still don’t understand. It was so incredibly hard to watch such an independent and strong woman not even be able to pull the covers over herself. I don’t understand why life is so cruel sometimes. Then again, is it worse to lose someone without having had the chance to say goodbye?

On top of all this, I feel guilt, well really regret, that I never spoke to any of my grandparents before they died. By that I mean, never really sat down to talk and ask them about their lives before I came along. How they met. What it was like to be a professional dancer. How life was with the war and the depression. What was your wedding day like? How did you feel when you became a mother or a father? That is something I feel that I lost out on greatly. Our grandparents are filled with so much knowledge and fascinating stories that I am sure given the opportunity they would love to share and reminisce. If anyone reading this still has a grandmother or grandfather alive, I urge you to just talk to them. Ask them questions. They won’t be around forever and you will truly regret not getting to know who they really were. I know I do.

None of my grandparents got the chance to see me grow as an adult. None of them will be with me at my wedding. None of them will be there when I become a mother. I take comfort in the fact that they will at least be there in spirit with me. Hopefully they are proud of the life I have made for myself so far.

Julie, Julia & Jill - Like Looking in a Mirror

2009-08-13T20:13:00.000-04:00

The other night I went to see Julie & Julia. I’d been waiting a long time for this movie to come out and was excited to finally be able to see it. Being a fan of Amy Adams and Meryl Streep, and of course Julia Child and most importantly FOOD, there was no way you could keep me away from this movie.

The theatre was packed as usual, thanks to free movie night, but I was grateful for a slightly older more mature crowd. No obnoxious teens or tweens to ruin the night by screaming obscenities out at the screen, laughing inappropriately or throwing popcorn at innocent moviegoers. Although I have to say, older people can be obnoxious as well. There was quite a bit of drama involving people blocking other people and way too much talking. But I digress.

From minute one, this movie was as charming as could be. It was based on the real lives of two women. Two very real, and very relatable women. So much so, that it was like watching a documentary about my own life. It was really creepy. Probably 90% of the story related to me and my current life situation. With all the success of this movie, I think maybe a Jill & Paula is in order; dessert edition of course. You will never catch this girl boiling cows feet or boning a duck, but I would be more than happy to make mousse or Crème Brule. The title ‘Jill & Paula’ doesn’t quite flow as well as Julie & Julia, but I think it would be a delight for sure.

Below is a list of several similarities between the life of Jill E. and the lives of Julie and Julia.

Jill Similarity #1 – Being stuck in an unfulfilling office job, trapped in a cube.

Jill Similarity #2 – Turning 30 and not being thrilled about it. Mine is right around the corner and I am terrified.

Jill Similarity #3 – Having a gaggle of friends that, while I may not hate them like Julie, I feel ashamed of my own life when they talk about their careers and successes.

Jill Similarity #4 – Finding some solace and meaning in writing. Blogging specifically to start, and then a book.

Jill Similarity #5 – Love for a TV cooking personality/writer of cookbooks that LOVES butter. Come on.

Jill Similarity #6 – Falling in love and marrying at a much older age. Hopefully that will be my future anyway. Later is better than never.

Jill Similarity #7 – Issue of never being able to have children. Mine is only a fear now. Hopefully it will not be a reality.

Jill Similarity #8 – Strong desire to be published. I’m writing two books now. Hard to believe I know, but I would Love to be published.

Jill Similarity #9 – Cooking on TV. While this was merely a crazy unrealistic dream, I strongly desired at one time to have a show on the Food Network where I was just an average girl teaching average people how to cook. The true baby steps of cooking.

Jill Similarity #10 – Lack of happiness in current place of residence. I think living at home at my age says it all on this one.

Jill Similarity #11 – Searching for a meaningful and fulfilling career. I have NO idea what I want to do.

It was like fate had brought me to this movie. It gave me hope that maybe I didn’t have before. Hope that maybe life after your 20’s won’t be so bad. Hope that there is someone out there for me. Hope that maybe someday I will be published. I left with the feeling that anything is possible. Not sure how long it will last, but for now, hope abounds.

I Wish I Had a Gayle

2009-08-11T23:39:00.001-04:00

Over the years, I have learned that good friends are not easy to come by. Back in the day, I always used to have a ‘best friend’. It changed ever few years, but there was always that one person who I could talk to about anything, and no matter what we were doing, good times were always had. While there is nothing when you are 6, 10, or even 14 (when I was a kid anyway), that is so earth shattering that you would need a confidant, it’s different once you hit high school, and the need for that one best friend only gets worse from that point on.

You need to be able to talk to someone about your struggles, but just as important, is having someone to celebrate the good times with. Starting in high school, I used to cry EVERY year on my birthday. Well, in high school it actually wasn’t so bad. I would inevitably always have a rehearsal or performance on my birthday which both sucked and at the same time, took away all the birthday pressure. I never have birthday plans, partly because I don’t think anyone really cares to hang out with me. I always get an abundance of evites for these elaborate birthday parties, with 100+ invitees. I don’t think I even know 100 people. Meanwhile, hitting up Pizza Hut with my parents is usually the highlight of mine. Not that there is anything wrong with that. (Loser.) Thankfully, I have amazing parents!

Now of course, on the flip side, you need that person to call when you break up with your boyfriend, or have a fight with a friend, or just feel shitty about yourself, which unfortunately for me, is a common occurrence. Girl talk is important and I am lacking it big time. There is no one that I would tell my deep dark secrets to; especially without the fear of being judged. I judge myself enough; I don’t need it from other people.

I believe that everyone needs and deserves a ‘Gayle’. Minus, however, the bizarre gay lover rumors. I need someone that could be my right hand man. I need that person that would run my magazine if I had one. I need that person that would become famous just for being my best friend. I need someone I could hop in the car with and just drive across country bullshitting and laughing, and if need be, spilling my inner secrets to.

After talking to several people about this, to my surprise, I am not the only one lacking a best friend. And while that should give me some comfort, I remain envious of those who DO have one; especially since I always had one in the past. At least if you never had one, you don’t know what you are missing.

For now, I will continue truckin’ on, minus that best friend. Hopefully over time, I will learn that I don’t need one. And really, I could always just look in the mirror when I have good or bad news and tell myself. At least I know someone will be listening.

Missing the Old Days

2009-07-24T22:09:00.001-04:00

Am I happy to be finished with the 19 years of school I was forced to endure, hell yes! Do I enjoy all of the freedom or lack there of that comes next, hell no! In my opinion, school sucks, and as much as I would like to go back and discover some new and exciting career, I think about how much I hated it the first time around, and my mind changes back very quickly. Out of those 19 years, I would have to say that middle school was easily the absolute worst. Your appearance is in its most awkward of phases, and you and your fellow classmates are all about terror and creating chaos. Middle school was the time when we made the teachers cry, would riddle the ceilings with spit balls, lock the nerds in lockers, write on each other’s clothes, and just generally create a very unpleasant environment for the teachers and each other.

High school and elementary school were ok for the most part, but I would never in a million years choose to go back to either one. Pre-school probably wouldn’t be so bad. Lots of finger painting and making turkeys out of your hand. Doesn’t get much better than that, does it? The only time I really enjoyed school was in the 6th grade. The teachers actually made learning fun. Wow, what a concept. But one good year out of 19, those are some sad looking odds.

Leaving out school, which is kind of hard to do considering how much of your life it consumes, I miss the simplicity of being an adolescent. But why I’m really bummed, is because I miss being able to call up a friend and say, “hey, let’s go to the movies”, and you go. Or the beach, or Great Adventure, or to lunch or dinner or wherever. Now, the majority of the small amount of friends that I do have, live all over the place and I often find myself, alone. I have no one to call up and meet for coffee. I have no one to go to the local street fair with. I have no one to do a White Castle run with. I’m by myself.

Truthfully, there are times when I really could care less about having friends. I have no desire to have a roommate (until a scrumptious someone of the male variety comes along of course; paging Bobby Deen!) and I often vacation alone which is amazing. You don’t have to worry about anyone but yourself. You eat when and where YOU want to eat, you visit the sites YOU want to see, you ride the rides YOU want to ride. It makes it a hell of a lot easier. The only time you may feel a tab bit of self-pity is when you are at Disneyworld let’s say, and you get up to the front of the Peter Pan line, and they ask how many in your party. Just one!

It’s the smaller things that I miss having a friend to just call up on short notice and make plans for the next day, not the next year. There are things I would love to be doing this summer, but it will end up being either I go alone and suck it up, or stay home. Staying home usually tends to win out.

Things like going to the movies and the theatre I have already learned that it’s just easier to go by myself. If I want to see a play or a movie, I just go. It’s just easier than trying to find a time that everyone can go and who wants to see what, blah blah blah. Usually there is so much waiting; I end up missing out completely. But some things are just more fun with someone else to share it with.

Nowadays, if you don’t book time with someone months in advance, you can forget about seeing them; especially in the summer. Two of my best friends in the whole world live hundreds of miles away. A handful live in the city, which while it’s not far, is a pain in the ass. Some are scattered throughout the country and some are strewn across NJ, which even in a small state, may be hours and hours away.

People grow apart, people move away, people start families. It’s a new life. It’s a new time. It’s time to adjust.

The Bucket List

2009-07-13T19:46:00.004-04:00

So it’s official. Since I am rapidly approaching thirty, I have indeed started my very own Bucket List. While some people think it may be too early to start such a list, I say the earlier the better. Hell, I may die tomorrow by tripping over a squirrel and landing face down in a puddle. And besides, Oprah says it’s a good idea so who am I to argue with the queen. This way, I have a bigger and better chance of accomplishing my goals. Goals like, having a flea circus, or shaving a Giants ‘NY’ in the back of my head, or running naked through the Amazon. I have big dreams and they all deserve the best chance of becoming realities!

So far I have compiled a list of 51 wondrous to-dos and am hoping for more inspiration. To increase my list to hopefully 100 wondrous to-dos, I am accepting proposals for new and exciting goals from anyone who cares to contribute. Right now I have a variety of smaller and very realistic goals combined with some ‘yeah-right never gonna happen’ dreams. You gotta dream big and reach for the stars. That’s what they all say, whoever the hell ‘they’ are.

Here is what I have assembled thus far…….(in no particular order)…….

1. Travel to New Zealand (if I think I could survive the flight)
2. Travel to SoCal (before the state breaks away)
3. Travel to Vegas (and not leave broke)
4. Travel to England
5. Travel to Scotland
6. Travel to Italy
7. Travel to Vancouver
8. Travel to Germany
9. Travel to Chicago
10. Travel to Seattle
11. Travel to DC (as an adult)
12. Marriage (preferably just once)
13. Kid (s)
14. Own a home (of some kind)
15. Stay @ Paula’s Inn
16. Record a Song with my Aunt
17. Have something published
18. Go to a Superbowl
19. Own a Brand New Car
20. Learn to Swim
21. Learn to play the Guitar
22. Learn to play the Piano
23. Play Guitar with my dad
24. Go to a Broadway Premiere
25. Go to a Broadway Closing Night
26. Hug a Chimp
27. Swim with Dolphins
28. Feed a Giraffe
29. Write a Book
30. Stop Caring so much what other people think
31. Get Fit/Lose the belly fat
32. Visit Dorney Park
33. Meet a President (past or present)
34. Visit Disney LAND
35. Visit Universal - LA
36. Meet Poppi’s Family
37. Drive Across Country
38. Learn CPR
39. Take my mom to Savannah
40. Get a Mani/Pedi
41. Get a Massage
42. Get Braces (again)
43. Chemical Peel
44. Yell at someone
45. Work/Volunteer with Special Needs Children
46. Bring a homeless person a meal (hopefully more than once)
47. Visit the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame
48. Row Boat in Central Park
49. Learn to Use Chop Sticks Efficiently
50. Appear on a Late Night Talk Show
51. Create MY OWN cookie recipe

So, there it is; relatively simple goals for a relatively simple gal. In addition to suggestions however, I am open to any assistance in accomplishing the above goals. For instance, if anyone wants to purchase me Super Bowl tickets or send me on an all expense paid trip around the world, you just let me know. I’m open to charity if it means filling up my bucket!

Woke Up On the Wrong Side of the Bed…Again

2009-07-09T21:04:00.000-04:00

This morning I woke up a tad bit later than usual. I habitually sleep through my alarm which is why I have a backup set during the week on my TV. Some mornings, with the radio blasting ‘Birthday Sex’ or ‘My Humps’ and the news people blabbering on the TV about death, tragedy, and politicians having torrid affairs in bathroom stalls and foreign lands, I still sleep through it, sound as a baby. When I lived in PA, my roommate would always ask me, ‘Did you hear the police come last night?’ “Did you hear the domestic violence going on last night?’ ‘Didn’t you hear the monkey swinging from the ceiling?’ The answer would 99% of the time be No. Generally I could sleep through almost anything, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, especially in that apartment.

I think getting up in the morning is almost certainly the worst part of the day. I mean, even on days I am heading somewhere fabulous where you think I would be full of excitement and energy and pure joy, I contemplate putting my head back on the pillow for just another 5 minutes, and then another five, and maybe just ten more minutes. Even when Disney is on the plate for the day, that waking up thing is still just so damn hard. I seriously consider postponing or even cancelling the Magic in favor of more sleep. Christmas, same thing. I love it, it’s my favorite day of the year, but I just want to SLEEP. Inevitably the Magic wins out every time, but it’s quite a struggle.

Usually my body will adjust to getting up at a certain time after a while, but it seems to be taking quite some time to adjust to my newest schedule. For 5 months I was getting up at 9…or later…and now I have the pleasure of waking up at 6:30. That’s really not that early considering I used to have to be at work in the city at 7:30 am after a car ride, a bus ride, a subway ride, and a brisk walk. I think part of the reason I have had a hard time adjusting has been this insane weather. I don’t know if you call rain every day weather, but now the sun is finally shining and summer is here and still I cannot wake up.

So this morning I was only behind by 10 or 15 minutes but that really affects the whole routine. The morning routine is set and if I deviate from the norm even one bit, something unexpected and terrible will inevitably occur. Like if I put my shirt on before my pants, I may forget to apply deodorant. It’s happened before and Nobody wants that. I made up the time this morning by abandoning my plans for breakfast and lunch. Now the fact that I have to spend money on buying lunch makes my mood worsen even more.

I was not in the best frame of mind this morning, but I feel that the dire mood is only due in small part to the loss of my usual allotted gettin’ ready time. I watched the Tonight Show while getting ready and one would think that maybe that would put a smile on my face. Conan is a funny guy. I think there may have been a few moments where one corner of my mouth started to move up a millimeter or two, but there was no full on smile happening. It’s now 9:27 am and if you could see my face as I am typing this you would probably express amusement, unlike me. I feel like I look like I want to beat the hell out of someone. That may indeed be true actually. I just can’t snap out of this mood. With 7 and ½ hours left to go ‘til the end of the day I better snap out of this sooner than later or it’s gonna be a REALLY long day.

Why is it that some days you just wake up pissed off? Where did that damn saying come from about waking up on the wrong side of the bed anyway? I would really like to know the origin. Maybe I could gain some invaluable insight or even an excuse for my sour mood. Was it because of those few minutes I lost? Was it because I was dreaming about a sailboat race with squirrels and we were losing? (Don’t ask) Or I am just a grumpy Gus for absolutely no reason? I would prefer to blame it on the squirrels. Considering I can only wake up on one side of my bed anyway, let’s hope it’s the squirrels. Otherwise I may be waking up on the wrong side of the bed everyday. Feng Shui time anyone?

Creepy Crawlies Drive Me Crazy

2009-07-06T20:54:00.002-04:00

The dictionary defines the word bug as ‘an insect or other creeping or crawling invertebrate animal’. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that other definitions for the word are ‘an unexpected mistake or imperfection’ or ‘a disease producing germ’.

Recently it seems my dislike, or fear if you will, of all bugs has become more apparent and perhaps more severe over the last few years. You would think that with age, the fear would lessen. I mean, I am rapidly approaching 30 for heaven’s sake. I will say right off the bat however, that I truly do feel bad killing any variety of these tiny or sometimes not so tiny creatures. I often apologize profusely before stomping on them with my big ole foot or sucking them up with a Dust Buster. But, the fact remains, if they are in my house or in my car, they need to disappear. And the odds of me quietly shooing them out the door to safety is slim to none, very slim; except of course for lightning bugs. They are my only friends in the bug kingdom and I would never do them harm. I used to feel the same way about lady bugs until freshman year in college when my room was infested with them. They weren’t so lady like anymore!

Lightning bugs aside, I have issues with all other creatures in the bug universe. Many of my childhood memories involve fear of bugs. Every time we used to visit my grandmother down the hill, we would have to fend off a swarm of bees to get in the front door. And while I was told many times that they were only the chubby, happy bees that don’t sting, there was no calming me down. I could envision myself being attacked by them in a large, vicious swarm, and it wasn’t pretty. I didn’t see one bit of jolly or happiness in those bees. Of course, I never did get stung, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still scary.

My grandmother also had what we have coined Hopping Bugs in her basement which were truly terrifying. Turns out, we also have them in ours. They are actually called Camel Back or Hump Back Crickets but Hopping Bug works just fine. The name itself says it all. It you are ever bored and feel the need to google them, beware, they are extremely terrifying to look at up close, or from any distance really. I was washing the dishes one fine day and I thought I saw some sort of shadow on my shoulder. Upon further inspection, which consisted of me simply turning my head to the left, I realized that one had silently hopped its way on to my shoulder. Not sure from where it hopped, but there it was. I went into a hysterical state, full of rage and intent on Killing. Can’t remember if I caught it or not. That part of the memory is a little fuzzy. They often creep there way upstairs and when I find them it’s like terror envelops me. Seriously, look them up. Scary little bastards.

Then of course there are spiders. I really hate them. My grandmother was the kind of person that would see a spider and either leave it alone and take the risk of having it crawl on her face while sleeping, or catch it and set if free out in the wilderness. I, on the other hand, scream (depending on the size and location) and look for the nearest weapon. Last weekend we were harmlessly out for a drive, when out of nowhere, I started twitching and yelling. My poor friend who was driving of course feared something was wrong until I told her there was a large spider crawling toward me. In a car you are trapped. Seat belted in to a confined space with no chance of evasion. Eventually, and due in large part to the fact that I was perhaps creating a dangerous driving environment, my friend pulled over so we could do away with this evil creature. She gave me a rolled up magazine and told me to just brush it off the door. Fear took over my body as I stared in to the eyes of this hairy, blue-mouthed spider. I couldn’t do it. What if it jumped at me while I was trying to simply help it to safety? Thankfully my friend came to the rescue, acknowledging first that this particular spider was indeed scary. She brushed it out of the car and off we sped as to not give it a chance to jump back on to the car and continue its terror spree.

Everyone has bug stories. I mean, there are countless more bugs in the world than people so encountering them is unfortunately a daily occurrence. I could go on and on about Japanese Beetles getting tangled in my hair, or inhaling mosquitoes while playing soccer, or being bittern countless times by fleas, or waking up to a squirrel sitting on my hamper…. Oh, sorry, that’s another story and an entirely different topic. Back to the bugs, I know they have their value in the world and I respect that, I guess. If they could only stay away from me, perhaps I wouldn’t mind them so much. It’s only in their best interest anyway, seeing as how coming near me is most likely a death sentence. Creep and crawl all you want, just maintain a safe perimeter and all will be well.

Rapidly Approaching 30

2009-07-02T22:15:00.000-04:00

So, it has recently been thrown in my face that I am rapidly approaching the big 3-0. And while this accusation is 100% true, it is something that I have feared probably since I was 25. I have many memories of declaring, “I’m almost 30, I’m almost 30”, loudly from my friend’s Queens balcony, when I still had 4 or 5 years to go. Now it’s down to months and I think I am in complete denial. I have no idea what comes after the number 29. Perhaps 29.1, 29.2, 29.3………. Thirty is a dirty, dirty word.

When you are young, you look forward to aging. There are so many wonderful things to look forward to at that point. When you are an infant, there are countless milestones in your life that, while you have no memory of them now, are very exciting at the time. Mostly exciting for your parents, but they certainly do make your life more interesting. Like the first time you realized you had hands and fingers. That supplied endless hours of trippy fun. Or when you figured out that you could put your foot in your mouth; more hours of amusement. Now I can’t even get my foot halfway to my mouth; although I do often put my foot in my mouth in a different way. Moving on, you then you have your first roll over, first crawl, steps, word, sentence, and the list goes on and on.

Once you reach adolescence, the milestones become more important and exciting for you and less so for your parents. They are just an emotional mess because their baby is growing up. I remember how excited I was to reach double digits. 10! It was such a huge deal. Travelling down the “Death Hill” on Rt 23, I would always tell my aunt to be extra careful to ensure I would make it to double digits. Then there’s becoming a teenager…. Seemed exciting at the time, but I would never choose to relive those years. No, thank you.

Between the ages of 16 and 21 are probably the most exciting birthdays you will have. 16, you get your permit and create much fear in your parents who have the unfortunate privilege of being in the car with you. 17, you can drive all by yourself and inevitably experience your first minor car accident. 18, you are an adult, which means buying your own cigarettes and accruing gambling debts. 19, you are almost 20. 20, you aren’t a teenager anymore, thank God. And of course 21, the age of countless black outs. After that, really the only age to look forward to is 25 so you can rent a car. Still haven’t taken advantage of that exciting privilege.

So, now it’s 2009 and I have hit all of my childhood milestones. So what’s left? 3-0 is right around the corner and every day I notice something else that only brings it home that I am getting older. For example, I recently noticed that my stomach and backside have been taken over by cellulite. Uh, where the hell did that come from? Gonna have to buy a cream for that. While on the beach last weekend, I found a small cluster of spider veins. Uh, I didn’t invite you to the beach. Perhaps they have a cream for that. While posing with a large tub of peanut butter sauce from Hershey, I noticed in the photograph that I have some pretty darn intense crow’s feet. Bring on the eye cream. And isn’t the fact that I just said photograph an indication of age? I’ve also noticed my face is getting fatter, despite my recent workout activities. Is there a magic cream for chubby face???

I am lucky that I have someone at work that is also rapidly approaching 30; and approaching much more rapidly than me I might add. Sorry Alexis. It’s nice to have someone to go through all of these revelations with on a daily basis. I really think they need support groups for aging. ‘Hi, My name is Jill and I am rapidly approaching 30’. We could discuss wrinkles, and cellulite, and weakened bladders, and perhaps gain some advice from fellow almost 30 year olds in a loving and nonjudgmental environment. I would attend those meetings; unless of course I forgot due to my fading memory. We could gain invaluable advice about what to do if you need to pee and there is no bathroom in site. Or, how to properly apply eye cream, and wrinkle cream, and cellulite cream, and foot cream, and anti-aging cream, and fortifying creams.

I’m not sure how I’ll feel on the actual day of the big 3-0. I think I may need to keep a psychologist on standby. I would need them to keep me calm after hearing all my parent’s age friends and family tell me ‘30 isn’t old’ or ‘you have your whole life ahead of you’. Well, thanks but no thanks. You were all married with a house and children and a career well before 30! I got nothing. Nothing except for my pseudo-independence, which is pretty awesome. Having to adjust to sharing my schedule with another person someday is not something I look forward to.

As for now, I will continue to purchase cream after cream. I will march on proudly and cream-covered as my last days of being a twenty something are fewer and fewer. Perhaps a bucket list is in order.

Please, Stop Singing!

2009-06-30T19:40:00.002-04:00

I realize that people tend to annoy me rather easily. I try not to judge and I try to always be kind, but there are some inhabitants of this planet that I think just crave other people’s attention and it drives me crazy! Everyone has encountered somebody like this at some point….many points probably. It’s not just that they are craving their friends’ attention; they are trying to get it from all the people around them as well. And it’s not just the attention they crave, but more annoyingly, jealousy. I hate to pick on only one group of people, but unfortunately most of the time I get extremely agitated, it’s by a member of this particular group. It’s a group to which I actually belong, theatre folk; be it simply a fan like me or a wannabe Broadway Star.

Let’s start with perhaps the most common offense that I am charging this group with. I’m at a show perusing the Playbill, anxiously awaiting the curtain’s rise. There are two people that I have the unfortunate pleasure of being seated near. I am keeping to myself if alone, or if with my theatre-loving posse, harmlessly and quietly trying to find celebrity look-a-likes in the audience. Then it inevitably starts…… These people feel the need to A) Criticize everyone’s bio and comment about how poorly written they are, while making fun of the fact that they have ALL appeared in Law & Order. First of all, I don’t see your bio in there, so really, zip it. And secondly, what the hell is so wrong with appearing on Law & Order? It’s like one of the only dramas shot in the city where these people live and work and it’s a great franchise. Again, I’m not seeing you on the TV am I? And B) They proceed to look at the show listings in the back of the Playbill and LOUDLY announce to their friends how many they have seen, and how many times, and how they saw four shows in one week. Great….super….nobody cares.

Another somewhat common offense occurs when fans of ‘cult’ shows such as Rent (R.I.P.), wait outside the stage door with excited theatre fans waiting to say hello to, let’s say, Anthony Rapp. When the smaller cast members begin to trickle out, these offenders immediately begin commenting on each of them, and talking about them like they are best buds. “Oh, there’s Amy, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be talking to that guy”. Or “Here comes Justin. I think he has Yoga in the Village tonight.” It’s a never ending string of futile comments trying to evoke jealously from nearby fans. And news flash, the fact that you are a stage door stalker EVERY NIGHT does not make you friends with these people. Listen, I used to go to the stage door after shows all the time and still do on special occasions. There’s nothing wrong with that. However, please do not try and make yourself feel ‘cool’ because you are really just coming off as irritating and stalkerish.

The final offense that I am going to discuss involves a combination of just babbling on and on about being in shows and auditioning, and singing (badly I might add) songs from EVERY musical that you have ever seen. This past weekend I was in LBI with a fellow theatre fan who actually works in a professional theatre. We got on line for some ice cream at the Show Place, which, at the time I was excited to finally be able to try out. Excited of course until I realized it would involve humiliation on my part, but that’s another story. While waiting, a group of four high schoolers got on line right behind us. High school and middle school children generally annoy me by just being…..well, by just being. But I try to be open to the fact that they may actually be good kids. However, this was not the case on this fine evening.

Almost immediately I could tell this was not going to be an enjoyable wait. The one girl in particular, made me want to literally cut my ears off with my car keys with her obnoxious antics. She began telling her friends about some audition she had lined up and the task of choosing a proper audition song. Then proceeded to sing each and every song….loudly and badly. She would say like, “Hey what about ‘Tits and Ass’ from A Chorus Line?” and then belt it out. “Maybe I should sing ‘Without You’ from Rent”….. belt it out. This went on for far too long. Perhaps I should have suggested ‘Let Your Freak Flag Fly’ from Shrek. That may have been more appropriate. Or even better, ‘Freak/Ode to Attention Seekers’ from Taboo. The mother and daughter in front of us actually up and left the line and I could only imagine it was because of the blabbering, singing fool behind us. Of course, when we go in to be seated, that lovely party of four was placed RIGHT in front of us. Unfortunately, and to no surprise, the irritating behavior continued, just in a different fashion.

I clearly don’t set out to be bothered by these people. I set out to have an enjoyable theatre experience but these offenders seem to be in abundance. It only makes you wonder, do I bother people this much when I am out and about? Is someone dedicating some negative blog to me and people like me? Who knows and who cares! Just stop the damn singing!

P-Dizzle

2009-06-23T19:12:00.008-04:00

I worked in TV for a few years (a few long, and sometimes unbearable years), in which time, celebrity citings were a part of my every day life. For the most part I would think, wow, this is so cool that Soleil Moon Fry is gonna be on today’s show, but it was a rare occasion that I got really excited about a guest. Work is work after all. It’s funny though how if I saw a celeb at work in the morning I didn’t care, but if I saw that same person out on the street or in a restaurant later on, I suddenly became filled with excitement. Oh my God, it’s Steve Urkle!

Of course there were occasions when we would have a guest that I admired or just had a mad crazy girl crush on. Some I’m not proud of, but you know, you can’t help your feelings, right? One of those embarrassing ‘crushes’ was non other than Mr. Constantine Mouroulis. Generally there was no chit chatting with guests, but the audio guy Brian knew I was crushing and felt the need to tell Constantine that I too was from NJ in order to try and initiate a conversation. He was very kind and sweet and as usual, I just smiled and turned red. No idea what, if anything, I said back to him and then he was off.

Other people I got quite excited about include the likes of David Duchovny (it’s Mulder for goodness sake), Jennifer Hudson, and of course Mary Poppins herself, Julie Andrews. Who wouldn’t be nervous and excited about that one? She’s practically perfect in every way. When we got off the elevator people were just lined up to see her, and many of us were brought to tears merely by being in her presence.

The one that topped the cake though is no surprise to anyone who knows me. Mickey Mouse you say? Not quite. It’s the queen of southern cuisine and mayor of Butter Town, Paula Deen! People would always wonder why I loved her so much, but that changed quickly as soon as they all had the privilege of meeting her in person. It’s like you meet her and you become an instant stalker. Not me of course, but I’ve seen it happen.

The first time I ‘met’ Paula Deen, she was doing a signing at BJ’s of all places. A few days prior, I had met her sons at another book signing where my crush on Bobby Deen certainly deepened. If you look at the picture below, I think we would make quite a lovely couple if I do say so myself. I never said I was a rational person. They were wonderful and sweet and I would actually be seeing them the next week along with their fabulous mother because they were all scheduled to be guests on Rachael (thanks to me and Holly). A few days later, I finally saw Paula Deen in the flesh with her husband Michael Groover aka Santa Clause. It was like a Dream Come True and a Nightmare all at the same time. Of course I was nervous and excited to meet someone I so admire. When she arrived, the crowd cheered (they damn well better have) and she quickly started her signing to ensure everyone got an autograph and a hello. The Nightmare came in when I finally got up to her and Michael and had NOTHING to say. Shocking I know. It was basically a 3 second encounter where she was handed the book by her assistant, said hello and they kicked you the hell out like a wicked awful assembly line. The thing that kept me positive was that I knew I would be seeing her the next week on the show.

So next week came and I of course was anxious all day. The first batch of guests came and I was fitting in a quick lunch before it was time for Ms. Butter and her son’s arrival. The receptionist told me as I was shoving food in my mouth, that the Deen Boys were in the lobby, which I merely took as a mean joke as that would mean they would have been VERY EARLY, ungreeted and confused wandering around the lobby. Long story short, they were indeed just hanging out in the lobby unattended. Not good! I made a B-Line for the elevator, apologized, brought them upstairs and ran back down to await Ms. Deen herself. I was so rushed I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I was riding in a small elevator with BOTH the Deen boys. Yum! Paula arrived soon after, we directed the car in to the garage and out she came like a beam of sunshine. Inside I was a mess, but I calmly and professionally shook her hand and welcomed her, and simply told her it was very nice to meet her.

As to not babble on and on about the best day of my life, soon after I was formally introduced to her in the green room with an audience of close to 30 people. I couldn’t even look at her so thankfully I had co-workers to do the talking for me. She was so sweet and so gracious and we took a few quick pictures before I had to run off and get my ass back to work. After her visit, people understood where my love for her came from.

Since then, I’ve had the pleasure of attending her show in Savannah, randomly meeting the boys at The Lady & Sons, and working on her show for a few weeks when it came to NY. While it seemed like working on her show would be a dream come true for me, it was actually kind of a frustrating experience. First of all, I really wanted to be watching the show not working on the show. Secondly, it was hard to see her come and go off stage without getting a chance to say hello. Although, let’s be honest. We all know that if I did get a chance to talk to her, just like last time, I would be speechless and kick myself later for it. I did have one chance to say something, anything, when she wandered over to the craft service table babbly delightfully about the wonderful variety of yummy snacks. Of course, I was silent and just smiled and chuckled at EVERTHING she said. Thirdly, I don’t like the idea of Paula doing her show in New York. New York City is too big, and cold, and colorless. The show was so much warmer when it was taped at Uncle Bubba’s. On the up side, I did have a lovely chat on the street corner with Michael Groover; another fabulous person. Can you tell I really love that family?

Since I no longer work in TV, I fear my Deen encounters will be fewer and fewer. And now that I have a Real job with Real hours, chances of me running in to any family members in Savannah are very slim. I will keep my Deen love alive by watching her shows, reading her magazines, buying her boys’ books, buying her books, and pans, and knives, and dishes, and spoons, and t-shirts, and magnets…… Oh wait, I already have all of those. She truly is a delight ya’ll!

It’s Like a Coffee Table Book about Coffee Tables

2009-06-22T19:53:00.003-04:00

So, I initially started this blog because I was angry. I was angry and it seemed like writing how I felt would be a good outlet. When I was in school, from the days I first started to read and write, all the way through college, I hated any class that involved writing. Unfortunately that was basically every class accept math. Thank goodness for math! Even in all my TV and Radio classes I had to write meaningless papers. What the hell is the point of that? Let me record some PSAs about the 400 side effects of Advil and film some of my friends in a multi-camera X-Files spoof and we’ll call it a day. It was an obnoxious task that I plowed my way through as best I could. I really had no desire to write about the Boston Tea Party, a Teddy Bear who comes to life, book reports on books I had no intention of reading (and didn’t!), or essays on the English language itself. And of course, depending on what form you were writing in, most of the time was actually spent finding the appropriate way to create footnotes and headers and references…. Do I really care?

It wasn’t until I started blogging that I found writing could actually be…..enjoyable. What a thought. Of course it’s easy to write about your own life. You’re stuck in it, every day. I actually came to find that it’s very therapeutic. Blogging and twittering and all these devices that let the whole world know what we are doing and feeling at all times of the day certainly seem very egotistical. After all, do I really need to know that Barry just ate a hot dog, or that Sandra had to pee in the woods because there were no bathrooms at the concert? And while I am semi-guilty of this by way of needless status updates on Facebook about eating at Pizza Hut or enjoying Friendly’s peanut butter sauce, or posting quotes from Pretty Woman that represent how I’m feeling that given day, I look at this blogging as more of an emotional outlet. It’s not for other people’s benefit, it’s for mine.

I’m the kind of person who, when you first meet me, you’ll probably think I’m a bitch. Why, because I probably won’t talk to you…..at all. If I am in any kind of social situation where there are people I don’t know or am uncomfortable with in any way, I become a complete mute. Literally, like as soon as a “stranger” walks in to the room, my internal mute button is turned to the ‘on’ position. I will smile and chuckle silently but no words will come out. I become a passive observer…..a drone really.

These silly entries are a great way to get out what I feel with no fear of attack or judgment or worry of grammatical errors and improper syntax. Nobody ain’t gonna care ‘bout right English in a blog. Take that Ms. Jones!!! Of course there are some things that all four of my readers don’t need to know. But for the most part, it has been a great outlet to express the inner me, scary as that may be to some. Musicians have their songs, screen writers have their scripts, poets have their poems, and I have my blog.

That Damn Guitar! (and all that led up to it)

2009-06-19T20:09:00.006-04:00

So I guess you could say I grew up in a relatively musical environment. While my mother claims to be lacking in that department, my father and his sister grew up harmonizing on the street corners of Jersey City. Hard to believe people actually did that but….they did. I grew up listening to them sing. For me, other than singing Somewhere Out There with my brother over and over….and over and over…..I really started to have a passion for music when I started elementary school, where every poor child is forced to join the chorus. Despite the horrible songs we had to sing like Baby Beluga and Yellow Submarine, and the wicked awful arrangements that destroyed songs I actually liked, I still came to really love music.

In 4th grade I got to tackle an instrument; the fluteafone. I guess you could say it’s a less fancy version of a recorder. That was truly the highlight of reaching the fourth grade. I’m sure we jammed out to some Mary Had A Little Lamb and Hot Cross Buns with a little Twinkle Twinkle thrown in. BUT, the big climax of the flutafone lessons was learning the theme from the Mickey Mouse Club. Oh yeah, it was a big deal. I played that song with my fellow flutafone musicians proudly on stage and can still play it just as proudly to this day.

In 5th grade you were able to move up to REAL instruments, where I chose to take on the regular flute; mainly because my mother had borrowed one from my cousin, therefore, it was FREE. Again, we started with some Hot Cross Buns and Mary and her stupid Lamb but soon got to rock it out hard to………Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx . Alright, so maybe not so rockish.

6th grade was an exciting year. In addition to the flute, I started playing the trombone. Flute players weren’t cool enough to be in the Jazz band so I switched from the treble to the bass and attempted to play these jazzier songs on a big ole trombone. I say attempt because I really had no idea what I was doing. I faked my way through all those concerts like a pro. Who would notice? You know what those choirs and bands sound like anyway. It’s painful on the ears but the parents still go and cheer you on and tell you how wonderful it was and fabulous you were. Please! It was a train wreck. I watch back tapes of concerts and plays from High School even, and I have to run and hide under the bed from the horrible shrieking, frightening chords, and tone deaf singing.

Anyway, 6th grade was also the year we got to participate in drama club. It was what I had been waiting for since Kindergarten. Up til then, the highlight was playing a dog in the 1st grade Christmas play. We put on some small show where I played Repunzel and had like one line and then we did that Charlie Brown Halloween play; you know, the one with the pumpkin. I got cast as the unprovoked yet uber bitchy Violet. Not sure where that came from, or do I???? We got to skip around the audience singing Pumpkin Bells. While both the previous plays were enjoyable, the pinnacle was The Wizard of Oz. One of the best movies EVER; a true classic. Unlike the previous plays where they just cast whoever in whatever role, we actually had auditions for this play and I wanted in. Every girl dreams of being Dorothy right? Beautiful, cute dog, lives on a farm with chickens, on a fabulous adventure where she is the center of everyone’s story….. Well, not this girl. My heart was set on the Scarecrow. Dream role! The auditions were basically everyone standing on stage singing a mixture of songs from the show, and then they just picked people for various roles based on, well I have no idea really. Unless of course you wanted Dorothy. The Dorothy wannabees had a much more rigorous audition process. By rigorous I mean, singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow alone instead of with 25 other people. Really tough stuff. Long story short, I was heart broken, literally, when they cast me as the Tin Man. Oil Can!

As the years progressed, I continued singing in choirs, attempted piano lessons, and was involved with musical theatre all through college. Since then, my musical passion really has no outlet, with the exception of course, of being an audience member to fabulous Broadway (or not) Shows and Clay Aiken concerts! Yes, I most certainly DID say Clay Aiken. I utilize my karaoke machine when I need to get my ‘sing on’ but other than an occasional play of Mickey Mouse Club on my flutafone I have no instrumental outlet.

A few years ago I had my father teach me some chords on his guitar. The guitar that, might I add, he would save in a fire over me. I was successful in learning two chords but then we got to the E, or maybe the F, who knows, and I found it virtually impossible for my fingers to maneuver in to that needed position. After a short time, I gave up despite my desire to learn. Guitars are cool. I want to be cool.

This past year I finally purchased Guitar Hero. And while it in no way simulates real guitar play, you do have to manipulate your fingers in strange configurations. Perhaps now I am ready to tackle this damn guitar! I borrowed my aunt’s last weekend and had my father tune it. It remains in the case. It remains untouched by me. It remains a huge intimidating thing on the floor. I will open that case, and I will learn more than 2 chords! Dammit guitar, I…….will…… win!

Something small always seems to happen right when you need it.

2009-06-15T19:22:00.001-04:00

Following up on the previous entry about my grandmother and her struggle with Alzheimer’s, the struggle continues, and every visit is a unique experience. There are some weeks that it seems all pieces of the woman she was are gone. Other weeks, she is talking up a storm. And while the words that are coming out may not make much sense, she is communicating, making eye contact, reaching out. And still other weeks, she can somewhat carry on a conversation; a very short, simple conversation, but a conversation none-the-less.

When you enter her room on any given week, you never know which version of the person you love you are going to get. A few months back, there happened to be a not so good day for her that I unfortunately had to witness. It was like her mind was set to pause. I couldn’t get her to look at me or say “I love you”. Nothing. Now, generally I can handle the Alzheimer’s and the nursing home atmosphere like a pro, but that week was different. It’s not often you look into her eyes and see nothing. The incontrollable emotional mess that I am, I started to cry. I usually try to hide any negative emotions from her but on that day I didn’t think she would really even notice. She hadn’t even seemed to notice my presence up to that point at all. To my surprise, as a silent tear ran down my cheek, she looked right at me, and in a complete and coherent sentence, she told me, “It will be ok”. I have no idea where that came from, but it came right at a time when I needed it the most. It may not seem like anything much, but it meant the world to me. At a moment that I feared my grandmother was slipping away (as I know she will someday), she came through for me. She provided the love and support that she has given me countless times in the past.

Now this past weekend was a whole different story. In the beginning she was a little distant, not talking too much and I was kind of getting that look like, “I have no idea who you are.” “Would you shut up and stop talking.” Which honestly, I get quite often. Well, the second half of that anyway. Not really what you want to see from your flesh and blood. But as I continued to try and communicate with her, I got a smile…..and then another….and another…and another. Smiles from her are few and far between and I got four of them within a few minutes. It was amazing. I think she was even making herself smile. It was such a wonderful feeling for her of course but for me as well. She really lives such a sad and confusing life since being touched by this horrible disease, so any signs of joy, for whatever reason, are amazing things.

I always had the feeling that things were happening in my life when I needed them the most; often times, seeing something that would maybe make a situation less scary or sad. We had an all women get together a few weeks ago and this very topic came up. It’s incredible how when you talk about it, you realize that other people experience the same thing; in different ways of course, but the need for what we see, and the calm we get from it is the same.

After my aunt passed away last year, I was sitting in the parking lot of my mother’s church. Again, being an emotional mess, I began crying while my mother was working out the details and what to do on the phone. I just cried and cried and stared out the window. It was March so it was still very cold and I hadn’t seen any Robins yet. Robins, the sign of Spring and hope. As I continued to stare out the window, filled with utter sadness, I noticed my first Robin sitting right outside the car. He just stood there for a while and I just stared at him. Eventually he took a few hops away, then a few more, a few more, and then finally flew away never to be seen again. While it was probably just a coincidence that that bird landed next to me at that particular time, it meant something to me. To me, that bird was my aunt telling me good bye. Letting me know she is ok.

After she died, and the family has the horrible task of going through your loved one’s belongings, one of my aunts found a ring that they thought I would like. I’m not really a big jewelry person by any means. Partially because I just can’t be bothered and partly because I can NEVER find a ring that fits my fat fingers. I actually have one of my grandmother’s rings and I have to wear it on my pinky. Even that’s a tight squeeze. So my aunt showed me the ring and of course I was more than happy to have it. Assuming that, like every other ring, it would never in a million years fit my chubby finger, I politely took the ring thinking, ok, it will be a nice reminder that will sit in my jewelry box until it’s passed on to someone else. I can’t remember why I decided to eventually try it on, but I did and it fit perfectly. Perfectly! I wore that ring to her wake and funeral and continue to wear it in her honor and as a beautiful reminder of who I had in my life for almost 30 years.

Keeps your eyes open. You never know what little “miracle” you may see.

Something is Still in There

2008-11-13T22:38:00.001-05:00

Alzheimer’s = A progressive, degenerative disease of the brain that leads to dementia.

Dementia = Deterioration of intellectual faculties, such as memory, concentration, and judgment, resulting from a disease or a disorder of the brain, and often accompanied by emotional disturbance and personality changes.

To me, no matter how medical journals or doctors may define these terms, I define them more like fear, change, loss of who you are…… Until my grandmother was diagnosed several years ago I didn’t know much about this disease and I’m still continuing to learn as I go. From step one it has been something I would rather avoid than deal with but then again, who would.

In our case, my grandmother began hallucinating people and situations but yet she was still very much aware of reality and the sad reality of the situation. It wasn’t until she grabbed her keys and took off in her car (which she hadn’t driven in quite a long time) that I realized the severity of the situation. After we thankfully found her on one of the most terrifying nights of my life, she told my uncle that she had the kids in the car and she was taking them somewhere. Well, of course there was no one in the car.

Inevitably she was placed in an Assisted Living facility and then on to a Nursing Home in the Alzheimer’s wing which is anyone’s worst nightmare when getting old. At first, going to visit was an absolute terror for me. You have a bunch of old people, and in some cases not so old people, walking around or wheeling themselves around that are afraid, babbling incoherently, staring off in to space, the list goes on and on. I had no idea how to deal with the situation but I knew with time I would adjust as best one can.

So now it’s several years later and I HAVE learned to adjust and adapt. I go to visit my grandmother every Sunday morning so it’s become a routine. I’ve come to the point where I realize that you just have to accept the situation and use humor to deal with it. There is nothing you can do to make these people better or to stop their behavior which at some points is clearly uncomfortable so all you can do is have a good laugh about it and move on.

Case in point, there was this very chatty lady that used to live where my Grandmother is. She was very mobile so she would inevitably wander to where you were and talk to no one in particular, just talk, talk, talk. We really hadn’t had too much direct contact with her until she came over and started chatting about her pussy cat. My pussy cat this, my pussy cat that…. Then she asked if I wanted to see her pussy cat. I didn’t even have time to think up an answer before I realized that it wasn’t so much a pussy cat as….well….you can fill in the blank. Thankfully we were on our way out so I just ran down the stairs and out the door! You just have to laugh at something like that.

My grandmother is in some sort of babbling phase where she just says the same things over and over and over BUT, there are some instances where I know, or at least I like to believe that she know me and realizes that I am family and that I love her. There have been several instances when I was leaving or even just chatting with her, where she would just look at me and tell me she was proud of me. Maybe I am just believing what I want to believe, but I truly think there is some part of her still in there…..somewhere. It melts my heart when she says. “I love you” which thankfully she says to us quite often. Those three words mean the world to me. It’s all I have left.

Last night, and again, you have to laugh about it because everyone is COMPLETELY FINE, another patient pulled my grandmother out of bed because she thought it was her room and her bed. So we headed down to the hospital to make sure she really was ok and to keep her company. As we were waiting in the hallway and I was standing next to her bed having a “conversation”, she said she was glad that we were chatting and then followed that with, “I’m so very proud of you.” Well, I almost starting to cry right there in the hall. Again, only a few words that make sense out of hours of gibberish but I truly believe at that moment she knew who I was and why I was there.

Several months ago in the nursing home there was a new nurse that we had not seen before. She stopped my family on the way out and asked us if we were Edie’s relatives. We explained who we were and she was asking us question about Mimi back in the day. She basically nailed spot on the kind of person that she was. It was amazing. Some how out of all that haze, she still somehow remains who she was, and this nurse was able to see it.

After I got home last night from the hospital, I pulled out the letters that my grandmother had written to me while I was away at school. I had kept several of them safely tucked away but had never really looked at them since the day I had put them in the drawer. Since she has been ill for so long now, I feel like I had forgotten who she used to be until I re-read those letters. She was an amazing, smart, caring, witty, beautiful woman who thankfully also happened to be my grandmother. It brought tears to my eyes reading those letters and they are a piece of her that I will keep with me forever.

Sunday I will head back to the nursing home for our weekly visit where inevitably my grandmother will babble on incoherently for hours. I’ll do what I always do which is to try to have some what of a conversation with her. That basically consists of me making up things to say or answers to questions you have no idea what they are. I will wave to my “friend” that I see every week sitting at the same table, hide Mimi’s food and my purse from Alfreda who likes to eat everything in sight, smile at the poor woman who repeats over and over, “God help us” and just wait for those three words to make everything ok. “I love you.”

I am Soooo Ready for Unemployment

2008-09-18T22:54:00.001-04:00

As my current job comes to a close, I wanted to take some time to pay tribute to the cast of characters that have been a part of my every day life for the past 4 months. Some are old friends, many are new, but they all have played a major role in this chapter of my life. And for that, I give you this blog entry.

Before I get to the supporting characters, I would like to quickly talk about one of the main characters of this story – New York City. I have worked in NY for the past 5 years or so and never had much to complain about. From Times Square to Lincoln Center it was always a joy to commute in to work. Then came this job. I have aptly named my foot commute from Port Authority to my building in Chelsea, the trek through Sketchytown NYC. Just to give an example of the joy I experience on any given day, today I was smooched at by a passing truck driver, my nostrils were punished by having to endure the smell of rotting fish while waiting to RUN across the street to get away, I was elbowed and rammed in the back while waiting for the elevator and was sprayed with a healthy amount of concrete. Thanks for kicking my ass today NYC. I can’t wait for the weekend.

Talking about the other main character, that being my current job, would be a waste of time and effort so on to the supporting roles. I’d like to begin with those kind people I share my 45 minute bus ride with every morning. Some are familiar faces and there are a healthy crop of newbies as well. Starting with an oldie but goodie, you have Eyelash lady. Eyelash lady is a middle-aged woman who likes to put her mascara on while the bus is in motion. She seems to have the time to put all the other makeup on in the morning but never that eye makeup. Maybe she loves the thrill of putting that mascara brush right next to her eyeball in a moving rickety bus. Ok, I’ve seen it done before. The kicker with Eyelash lady is what she does AFTER the 20 minute application of the makeup. Wait for it….. And remember she is on a very bumpy moving vehicle going 60 MPH. She whips out a sewing Needle and painstakingly separates EVERY lash. Stay tuned for the inevitable day she stabs herself in the eye. You know I’d have to blog about that bloody tale.

There are quite a lot of celebrities that ride the bus with me as well. Most notably are Paris Hilton, Paige Davis, and the guy who looks like he came out of a GQ ad. Oh wait, I mean the guy who thinks he looks like he came out of a GQ ad. Then there’s probably my favorite bus buddy, another oldie but goodie, Dr. Kovac from ER. A brooding handsome European, this guy is slightly older than the real Dr. Kovac but no less charming. I was melting in the back when he kindly offered assistance to a crazy woman who needed change to get on the bus. Oh, slightly older yet still charming Dr. Kovac look-a-like. How I adore you!

Let us now move on to the characters in the building where I work. I will kindly stay away from anyone I work directly with as you never know when you will meet again. Although for all of them, let’s hope not any time soon. There are quite a few celebrities in my building as well, most notably Betty Boop! Who would have thunk it! Alive and in person with a slightly smaller head. Transporting in our time machine a little further toward present day, we also have one of the members of the B-52s. Who said the Bee-hive hairdo was dead? Skipping ahead to present time, Dr. Lisa Cuddy is one of the newest characters to grace the halls of the office building. Say hello to Dr. House for me!

The most annoying characters at this particular setting in the story are the models. I mean come on ladies! Is there a better way to feel like a fat ugly slob than to be in a small elevator with 15 models whose legs are as tall as you are???? I think not! Every other day there is some kind of casting call across the hall. (Excuse the annoying rhyme.) I vote that the next commercial or ad they cast for, is an ad for incontinence. That sure would make me feel better.

Last but not least, we can’t forget about the charming people I get to see on a regular basis on my stroll through Sketchytown. Protecting and serving you have the always sweaty Dudley Do Right. We pass each other by the rail yards and every day I look in amazement at the fact that this lovely little man is a cop. I try to look more closely at his uniform to see if perhaps somewhere it says the word Library above the word Cop. Cause truthfully, that I would buy. Further down the route, you have The Professor. An oddly dressed scholarly looking fellow that looks strongly like Kevin Kline in the film In & Out but with more Gray hair and shorter pants. Generally, the last character I encounter on my way To work, is a lovely man named Buddha Belly. Buddha Belly was so named because one morning he was standing on the corner in front of the deli as he does every day, but he had his shirt rolled up and was rubbing his belly like you would rub the Buddha for good luck. He was hence forth called Buddha Belly. Buddha Belly hangs on the corner and babbles to himself and to passersby every morning. This is why I walk an extra block or two out of the way. I don’t have time to be roped in to a riveting intellectual conversation that early in the morning. And by early I mean 9:30.

I would like to conclude this entry with the final and most controversial character of the story. Of course I am talking about Mr. Shovel. If you are an avid follower of this blog, and who isn’t, you know all about Mr. Shovel. Thankfully, I think my one encounter with this kind gentleman is all I’m gonna get. I wonder whatever happened to him? I think of him every time I enter shovel territory.

Needless the say, I truly will miss journeying through Sketchytown NYC and my celebrity friends on the bus. With my luck however, I will be back there in no time. Um….help! Let’s hope for a less painful, less smelly, concrete free day tomorrow. I live for Fridays!!!!

Good Night and Happy Commuting.

Jill E.

And You Wonder Why I’m Single.

2008-08-20T15:48:00.001-04:00

This blog is not to bash men in anyway so please don’t take offense if you happen to be of the male persuasion. I know there are some amazing men out there but this is not about them. And I know what I am about to complain about can also apply to some women but today it’s all about the guys. Now that I’ve covered my ass we can begin.

I need to let off some steam about those guys that think it’s ok to be a disgusting touchy feely perv even though they are in the presence of their wife (and similar guys). I mean let’s have a collective “Ew”. Especially when said guy is like 30 years older than you.

First off, I love hugging. I’m a hugger by nature but that’s really where I draw the line. I really don’t like people invading my personal space. Perhaps I should walk around with a sign that says, “Stay out of my circle of personal space or be kicked.” Or I could always walk around with a hula-hoop to keep unwanted people away. Although that might make getting around rather tricky. Generally I’ve learned that other countries aren’t as concerned about their own personal space and hence don’t care if they invade yours but, that’s their culture and I’m not here to judge them.

Anyway, a hug or a handshake or a hello from across the room will suffice when greeting someone that you aren’t really close to. I really don’t even like speaking to people I don’t really know. I barely speak at family functions where there are too many strangers around or even if it’s just the family. And that’s saying a lot about my comfort level since normally you can’t shut me up. There is no need, I repeat no need and no circumstance where a kiss on the lips is appropriate for a non-boyfriend/non-friend/non-close family member. Eww, eew, eew. Did I mention ew? Not cool.

Also, when did it become ok for someone to just touch you??? Even if it’s my hands that you are touching, that’s a no no. It’s not ok. Don’t touch me. And please feel free to tell me it’s just me but I don’t think it’s really appropriate to constantly look at one’s cleavage and follow that up with another Unwanted hug, then tell you in front of their wife that, Ooo you have soft skin. Bleh!

Listen, I’ve dealt with some creeps in my day, most of which are much older than me, but I really hate putting up with this kind of behavior. If you go to a club or a bar it’s expected that drunk guys will feel you up. I don’t like it but I get it. Plus they are your age so it’s not creepy, just annoying. But in a non-alcohol family setting, what the hell? Sometimes I wish I would grow a set of Cajones so I could just tell these people what I really think. But for now writing this little blog will have to do.

Protect Your Bubble of Personal Space.

Jill E.

I Think It’s Time To Get Outta Dodge…..But I Won’t

2008-08-11T21:58:00.002-04:00

The frequency of the blogs has significantly died down due to utter exhaustion for no reason. I actually had inspiration and things to write about recently and would have fought through the non-existent mono but all I had to write about were horribly depressing topics and I was trying to lighten the mood after the last entry. I still have nothing jolly to write about but I think this babbling will be more ridiculous than sad.

Recently I have been pondering how disgusting and angry the city can be which I believe has filtered out to the Garden State as well. I think it first started after I returned from good ‘ole AC. I was walking down the broken glass filled, poop covered sidewalk to work, along the absolutely disgusting Hudson River, all the while imaging how less than 24 hours prior I was walking down the boardwalk at the beach. Hmmm, Atlantic Ocean – Hudson River – you pick.

Soon after, walking to work again through what I have termed Sketchytown, I see police tape in front of Chelsea Park. Thinking perhaps it had something to do with the Ugly Betty taping a few nights before I thought nothing of it until I got to work to find out an off duty cop was stabbed after leaving a club in the early morning. Ok, well we know how those clubs can be. Understandable circumstance. Well not really but not surprising either. Later that day as I am walking home past a children’s playground I see more police tape and a shit load of detectives and beat cops talking about witnesses blah blah blah. My investigative mind figured that the assailant from the cop stabbing had dropped a piece of evidence while escaping through the park and that’s what all the hullabaloo was about. It wasn’t until weeks later when I was given a flyer from a cop that I realized there was a shooting/robbery in the children’s playground that same day at 6:15pm! Lovely isn’t it. Perfect place for a shooting. Now I’m really thinking Atlanta looks appealing.

Shoot to today. And what a day it was. It was a rather nice walk to work. Only one crazy tried to talk to me but as usual I smiled and kept walking. With storms looming I was glad to be inside. Darkness was moving over the city but my computer was frozen so I was pre-occupied with that until I heard, “Oh my God”. Something I have heard WAY too often at this damn job. (see previous entries) I look to the right and everyone is looking out the windows. I see nothing so I shift my focus back to my computer which is just getting worse and worse. Still trying to get my computer to work I am distracted by a voice again saying, “Oh my God”. Followed by another saying, “It looked like it hit that building.” Well we all know what was going through my insane brain. Turns out lighting had apparently struck one of the construction cranes but all seemed ok. Within a few minutes the city became enveloped by a thick fog that caused a complete white out or gray out in this case. We couldn’t see ANYTHING out the windows.

The rest of the day cleared up and went smoothly until I started my trek home. I made it safely through Sketchytown and was blocks away from the PA when I apparently failed at being a caring and concerned human being. Remember what happened in the last episode of Seinfeld??? Maybe that will give you a clue. Walking down the sidewalk, again weaving through the crazies, I had my headphones on and was singing along in my head when I saw a man with intent in his eyes lift an aluminum shovel above his head. I saw this happening and said nothing. Mind you I don’t even like to yell B-I-N-G-O when I’ve won (Donna can confirm this to be true) so I wasn’t about to yell “GET DOWN”. Within a few seconds which seemed like 10 minutes, the man swung the shovel whacking this other guy in the head. It was like in slow motion and I fully expected to see this guy out of the ground with a massive head wound but by some miracle he was fine just really pissed and who could blame him. I was actually surprised that this guy and his group of friends didn’t kill this, I guess homeless man. They just started cursing at him and trying to get the shovel. I have to say if someone hit me with a shovel I don’t think I would be so nice. That is, if I could even get myself up to be angry. As I walked in to the street to get away and to hurry to make my bus, I noticed all the on-lookers just watching this happen. Could I have been the only one that saw this happen? Someone else could have yelled BINGO, I mean Get Down. I left there pissed at myself for not stepping in. It didn’t really even seem that strange to me. I get more upset when people are yelling and cursing at each other than I get when witnessing someone get whacked with a shovel. Go figure.

I think you become immune to some of the violence and somewhat angry and violent yourself. It’s contagious. I am the kind of person that feels bad when I kill a bug but sometimes I would like to hit someone with a shovel myself. Just the other day I was wishing I had a shovel at Kohl’s. Two adult women pissed me off big time and I thought how great it would be if I could just punch them in the face. Then they wouldn’t do that anymore. I would never actually do that but I was thinking about it! This place is crazy and I think I need to move to a farm. Anyone wanna come?

Well, tomorrow is another day. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get rainbows. Well maybe smoke and pollution forming what looks like a rainbow.

Beware of shovels!

Jill E.

Fear

2008-07-20T22:16:00.004-04:00

“to be afraid or feel anxious or apprehensive about a possible or probable situation or event”

I have no idea what makes some people more afraid than others but everyone suffers from a fear or fears of something. For me, fear has always been at the forefront of my life though I try my best to hide it from everyone around me. I had plenty of crazy fears as a child and one could only hope they would disappear or lessen in intensity with age but that does not seem to be the case with me.

Just recently some of these fears have intensified and as irrational as I know I am being I can’t seem to kick them and they have seeped into my dreams as well. It’s bad enough to live with fear during the day but when it interrupts your sleep it becomes all consuming and really quite annoying. It’s especially bothersome when you have a nightmare where Robin Williams is sticking his face in your chest insisting that you give him your phone number. It may not sound so scary but trust me when I say you don’t wanna have that dream tonight.

Death has always been probably my number one fear and it seems to get worse with age. I guess that makes sense as every day I am one day closer to my inevitable demise. My imagination does not help the situation as I create vivid realistic scenarios in my head when faced with situations that make me uncomfortable. It would take a whole blog series in itself to explain the various scenarios I have created and for what situations but I will just touch briefly on my most recent nightmares and heart racing situations.

Terrorism. Seven years later I seem to have brought all the thoughts and feelings and fears of that time back. Perhaps it’s because one of the TV shows I have been watching revolves around the Oklahoma City bombing. Maybe it’s because of the fire alarm that went off at work followed by Miss I Can’t Handle a Crisis making an announcement to go to the nearest exit with absolute terror in her voice, followed by us walking down 13 flights of stairs trying to escape an unknown “enemy”. Possibly it’s all the explosions I hear every day at work with the construction site across the street blasting 2-3 times a day. Or maybe it’s because of that day when it sounded like a huge plane was headed towards the windows only to see actual planes (in NYC) fly right passed the windows as part of some stupid air show. Or it could be all these damn movies/TV shows about terrorists. Really, who knows?

After one particularly horrid nightmare involving hundreds of planes in the sky dive-bombing everywhere whilst trying to avoid being hit by US missiles, I got on the bus only to have a driver of a certain ethnicity. Oh that was NOT what I needed that morning. Of course the whole ride, as has happened many times in the past, I really believed once we hit that tunnel that was it for me.

It’s not as if I think about this stuff all the time or dwell on it, it just hits me when in certain situations and I don’t know how to rationalize my feelings and fears. Although really, how irrational are they? I don’t think anyone who dies really thought it was gonna happen that day or in that manner. It makes you wonder though if you are crazy. Are you the only one that thinks about things like this? I wasn’t even in the city that day in September but I have dreams sometimes that really make me feel as if I have been through something just as horrific.

My goal from this point on, is to find a way to try and be at peace with at least some of these fears. Don’t know how I’m gonna do it, but baby steps will hopefully get me there. Perhaps I’ll try one fear at a time starting with the smallest and most irrational. Although heavens there are so many! Honestly, if I listed all the things that scare me I’d be up all night.

I think before I hit the sack tonight I’ll watch some cartoons or the Best of Will Ferrell to ensure I have happy dreams. No Robin Williams in my head tonight!

Wishing everyone else sweet dreams.

Jill E.

It Seems Assuming Really Does Make an Ass Out of You and Me – Well, Me Anyway

2008-06-12T20:50:00.002-04:00

Back in 2000 I purchased a used Saturn. Well my parents purchased it for me but those little details are irrelevant. And if you want to be particular, my grandmother who had just passed away actually bought me the car as it was her money. Anyway, I remember at the time we were concerned about a small chip in the windshield. They kindly informed us that the service department sandblasted it and that the windshield therefore did not need to be replaced. Ok, well they sandblasted it at least. They seemed to care and did a thorough job of cleaning the car up and fixing any problems before I drove the car back to my humble abode. Quite a pleasant experience I must say.

That car was actually three years old when I took ownership but since it was given a thorough tune-up, all was well and I kept that lovely green automobile for the next 8 years. Eventually, after ten trips down to the Sunshine state and over 100,000 miles it was time to say goodbye to Meg. That’s the name I gave my car but soon regretted. Anyway, I said goodbye to Meg back in March and traded her in for a whole $400. I had been through so much with her and I just sold her for 400 bucks like a prostitute. It wasn’t easy since I knew she would be heading for the chop shop but you gotta do what you gotta do. Sorry Meg.

I had wanted initially to purchase a brand new car which I could really call my own. However, financially it seemed best to go with a slightly used car. I found one on the dealer website that was the model and color I had been searching for and it was only a year old. What a steal – or so I thought. Against my will, I took it for a test drive and all seemed well. I bought it and as soon as I got home the trouble began. First off, they had forgotten to engrave the window which is a security measure that I happened to pay an additional $800 for. You better damn well etch my windows. We had to drive immediately back to have it done. Actually, prior to this I noticed I was having trouble moving the passenger side mirror but that magically fixed itself. Problem averted.

Next up, after about a week of having this new, as of yet unnamed car, I noticed that the wiper blades are completely useless. The one on the driver’s side leaves three huge smears right in the line of sight. Great. So glad I can see in the rain while doing 70 miles per hour on the highway in the dark. My mother happened to run into someone who worked at the dealership and he informed her that they never replace wipers on the used cars before selling them but they would happily put them on if I bought them there. Uh duh! Really?

So today I go for my first oil change and also inform the service manager that I would like new wiper blades since it seems mine are both pieces of shit that they never felt the need to replace before selling me the car. Well, I didn’t say all of that but he said ok, that will be another $40. Ugh! I take a seat in their nowhere near as nice as Saturn waiting area where a certain someone happened to be on TV. Thank goodness everyone else left and I was able to change the channel. Conjuring up bad memories while already in an annoyed state would not have been a good idea. Especially since my mood was about to get progressively worse.

As is everyone sitting in the waiting area’s worst nightmare, the service guy came over to talk to me. He told me that my tires were wearing down and I am in dire need of a tire rotation and alignment. All I could think of was that fact that I had only driven the car for 3 months. How could I possibly have worn down the tires so much? Turns out they don’t do any tire maintenance before selling you a car either. Another $20 added to the growing total.

Sitting and growing angry, the man comes to talk to me again. He now informs me that my brake pads are literally almost gone and it is crucial that they be replaced now. I tell him to hold off and he says I can’t because they are just that bad. Again, here I was thinking I had been driving around for all of 3 months. How could I have worn down my pads in 3 months? Growing in anger, the next time he came back (to try to get me to buy ridiculous car accessories mind you) I asked him the question that was burning a hole in my head. So I guess you guys don’t fix or replace ANY of the wear parts before you sell these cars to people? He basically told me that as long as they pass inspection, everything is butterflies and rainbows. Even if the parts are nearing disaster but are deemed ok, they will sell you the car and the buyer is never the wiser UNTIL you go for service. Fan-F-ing-tastic!

It only got better when he told me I was due for my 30,000 mile service which costs $525. I left there angry and bitter and wishing I had gotten a brand new car, not from that dealer. I had assumed that like Saturn, although I was purchasing a pre-owned vehicle, it would at least have been thoroughly checked out and all the little wear parts would have been replaced. What an ass I am. Never again. I learned my lesson.

To anyone out there buying a used car, ask ask ask lots of questions before you sign that not-so-dotted line. Buying a slightly used car may end up costing you a lot more in the long run.

Signing Off Angry and Bitter,

Jill E.

Forty-Seven Square Miles of Magic

2008-06-10T23:24:00.011-04:00

"When you believe in a thing, believe in it all the way, implicitly and unquestionable.” - WD

Had I been alive October 1st, 1971, my life would no doubt have changed that day. What you ask could have been so important? What life changing event happened on that October day back in 1971? Well, the Magic Kingdom opened at Walt Disney World in Lake Buena Vista, FL of course. Yes I know, Disneyland opened before that, but being from the east coast, I am a Disneyworld girl all the way. It’s crazy really how a rodent can consume your life.

For me, it all started in 1984. First trip to Disney with the family.

Since I was only 4, all I really remember was being TERRIFIED by a man pretending to be a robot. Please, men are scary enough. We stayed at the Polynesian which is a fantastic hotel right on the lagoon a hop, skip, and a monorail ride from the Magic Kingdom. In the decade to come, I made two more visits with the family which were thoroughly magical and soon after, a trip with my best friend and her family right after we graduated High School. The trip was equivalent to a much needed getting out of jail present. Yeah, that’s how much I liked High School.

Although I had developed a love for all things Disney, I really don’t think I truly felt the magic until I hit my 20’s. The older I get, the more I love the mouse. It’s insatiable. I need more Mickey! As soon as I pass through those Disney Gates I revert back to being 6 years old. I’m serious. And as you can see, not much has changed over the years.

It has been almost a year to the day since I have been through those Disney gates and it’s like a tiny piece of me is gone. There is a sad empty place in my heart. To ease the pain, I watched a vacation planning DVD today that came in the mail. The cheese factor was way high but I think I shed a tear watching it. Who wouldn’t want to spend their evening learning about Disney’s four theme parks; two water parks; 32 resort hotels (22 owned and operated by Walt Disney World); 99 holes of golf on six courses; two full-service spas; Disney's Wedding Pavilion; Disney's Wide World of Sports Complex; and Downtown Disney, an entertainment-shopping-dining complex encompassing the Marketplace, Pleasure Island and West Side. Wow! That may actually be too much excitement for one night!

Perhaps to the shock of many, I’ve even made several trips to the parks alone. The best was when Millionaire trekked down there (for what would be the last time). I was only working one day so I used everyone else’s passes and my friend’s hotel room at the Animal Kingdom Lodge and wandered to all of the parks for FREE! It was all well and good until I got to the front of Peter Pan and they asked how many. I have to admit, I felt quite loser like having to say “Just one”. Who rides Peter Pan alone? I guess I do! That was the trip we got to ride Expedition Everest before it opened - - 3 times in a row actually. Despite almost puking from the continuous riding, it was one of my best Disney memories! That’s Kayla and me before the puking sensation set in.

Last year I had a power trip planned – 4 parks in 2 days. Being alone definitely made it easier to achieve my goals. I knew what I wanted to hit and made it happen. Sadly, the haunted mansion was closed, but thanks to the DVD I watched today, I learned it was closed due to renovations. My cousin, goddaughter and I went to the park one day too and for the first time in YEARS, went to a character breakfast. Can you say excited? First of all it was a breakfast buffet – HEAVEN!!!! And secondly, the characters would come over to each table and take pictures with the guests! Mickey Mouse came to my table!!!! Twice I might add. I really do think we make a great couple. And check out the food. Yum! Mickey waffles, cheesy eggs, cinnamon buns, and the real Mickey. Really, how can life get any better?

I blame my parents for this. It’s really their fault as they love the mouse whole heartedly as I do. In my present situation it looks like much more time will pass before I get to see Mickey again. But, in the meantime, I still have my DVD and plenty of Disney mementos to keep me happy. Perhaps after I finish this entry I will pop in my Disney Theme park music CD, put on my anniversary Mickey Ears, and close my eyes pretending I’m really there. Nothing beats that Splash Mountain music!

To all the fellow Disney lovers out there, have a magical night!

“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.” – WD

Jill E.

It’s a False Alarm……or not

2008-06-04T23:56:00.002-04:00

Life if full of false alarms. False labor pains, false positives, false election results….. They are all around us. The false alarm I am referring to today is the alarm in the form of flashing lights and really really loud beeping sometimes followed by a recorded voice telling you to move to the nearest exit…actual alarms. I bet you 90% of people that hear an alarm don’t think anything of it, except for me of course. Yeah I am a panicker but it’s not without reason and experience. If the alarm is telling me to get out, I am gonna get the hell out!

The other day at work the fire alarm went off. Ok. I looked around and everyone was plugging away at their work. No one seemed to care except for you know who. As it continued, people eventually began to question what was going on but no one got up to leave. UNTIL that is, a panicked voice gets on the speaker and tells everyone to walk to the nearest fire exit and await further instructions. Oh boy! I am panicking but trying not to show it. What the hell could this be? Three possibilities ran through my head. Yes my imagination is a little out of control. Yes I tend to panic over nothing. But these three possible options are not that unrealistic. I have first hand experience so give me a few courage points here.

Possibility #1, fire.

Let's travel back in time to 2001…..I think. I was living in PA in a lovely apartment with perhaps not the loveliest of neighbors. Unless you count nightly police presence due to drugs and domestic violence lovely. I was usually home alone as my roommate was a swimmer and often out of town at meets. It was a regular occurrence that the fire alarm would go off and beep incessantly. Usually we would just chalk it up to a bad battery and go to bed. One night, as I was of course home alone, the alarm went off again. It seemed to go on much longer than normal so I ventured out in to the hallway. After seeing smoke come out from under the door I realized that this is indeed not a false alarm. Another neighbor kicked the door in and removed the burning pot that was left on the stove. After Fire guys (excuse me, fire people) pumped out the smoke, I was able to return to my undamaged apartment.

Now let’s move up the time line a few months. I am home alone eating ice cream in my PJ’s. Did I mention it was 9 o’clock? The alarm goes off again. After the last time I was pissed so I headed back to the hallway to investigate only to find the hallway filled with smoke. Super! I ran back in to my apartment to call 9-1-1. The lady on the phone could not have been anymore disinterested. I can’t express the lack of concern in her voice in words, but damn honey, my building is on fire. Have a little compassion and sense of urgency. I grabbed my purse and headed (in my PJ’s) out into the dark rainy night to watch my life burn from the parking lot. I did have a kind invitation to stay at someone’s house from a neighbor on the other side of the fence. Um, no thank you! Long story short, the apartment to blame (same one as last time), which happened to be Right across the hall from mine, lost EVRYTHING. Walking in to the hallway that wasn’t, we attempted successfully to get to my apartment with a fireman escort and flashlights in tow. Opening the scortched door was like heaven as it was white and beautiful inside although it smelled more like hell I would imagine. So, again, not a false alarm.

Possibility #2, crazy person with a gun.

We have to travel a little further back for this one to 1990something or other when I was in HS. I live in NJ. Not in a city area and where I went to High School the population was probably 500. Not really that small but it is a teeny tiny, no one leaves here kind of town. It was the start of the school day in homeroom when we are cryptically told to remain in the classroom. No one was allowed to leave including the teachers until given further instruction. Ok. Obviously not a fire. I mean I hope they are smart enough in this tiny town to evacuate the students in the case of a fire. What does that leave? I really had no idea. Turns out someone had eluded capture or prison or something and had taken up in the house across the street. There were apparently armed men on the roof!

Not too much later in that same small town I was working in a deli when I saw armed men out the window charging down the street. It was like a joke. The funnier part was all the people going outside to check it out. Really? I was taught to run from danger. Again, I guess it’s just me. I am the crazy one.

Possibility #3, I don’t really need to go there, especially since we are talking about New York City. Obviously that is still a possibility.

So back to this past week. As we all gather in the hallway wondering what the hell is going on the voice comes back in a panic. Apparently someone missed the how to handle a crisis seminar! I really don’t think you are supposed to let on how panicked you are to an entire building of people. Remain calm bitch, that’s what I would have liked to tell her. She freaked me the hell out. Our instructions we were awaiting never came so we proceeded down the 13 flights of stairs. All the while I am thinking we are gonna be trapped between 2 burning floors just at the same time the gunman arrives in our stairwell trying to flee. Thankfully I made it down just to find out a construction worker accidentally hit the alarm. Super. Thanks. I mean I could use the exercise but….

I was in the torture room at Ripley’s last summer when the alarm went off. NO one cared. I wanted to get the hell out but amidst the torture devices were a bunch of deaf tourists that didn’t hear the alarm. Employees were running around with walkie talkies and still no response. Well we stayed and like the other day it was indeed another false alarm.

To get to the point, amidst the many false alarms that come our way, there is always a positive somewhere in the crowd. You have to remain alert and aware and not take things and situations for granted. You may gamble and lose.

Be Safe.

Incessant worrier,

Jill E.

Hopefully It’s Just a Detour

2008-05-31T17:20:00.003-04:00

Senior year in High School. As if high school itself doesn’t suck enough, it’s also the time you are supposed to figure out what you want to do for the rest of your life. You have one year to decide what the next 50 years ahead will look like. Of course you can always go in to college undecided but sooner or later they will force you to pick something, unless you feel like racking up thousands more in loans by staying in school another year or two or three. Most people you talk to aren’t on the career path they intended anyway.

I had always been in to the arts. I started dancing at age 3 or 4 and performing at competitions, I sang in the choir, I played the flute and attempted the trombone, I was always in plays, was on my HS radio (as pathetic as it was), and loved theatre most of all. I had intended to enter college for theatre management but allowed myself to be talked out of it. So instead, I chose the next best thing, television production. After attending my first taping of Late Night with Conan O’Brien I was sure I wanted to be a Stage Manager although I honestly had no idea what that entailed. Maybe I thought it just looked cool.

So I entered college as a Comm major with a concentration in TV and Radio. Sounded fun. And it was. With the exception of all the bull shit classes they make you take like Statistics and Geology, most of my core classes were rather fun. Watching classic films, learning about Irish cinema, making ridiculous radio commercials, and running around the school parking lot at night with fake guns and blood pretending to be Steven Spielberg. Didn’t think it got much better than that.

Senior year came quickly and it was time for a taste of the real world. And by real world I mean stepping away from the classroom and text books, and getting to see what TV and radio are really like in the form of Internships. My first one was in radio at Radio Disney. I was lovin’ it because my first week I got to go to a Devils game. I mean c’mon. This is gonna be great. I quickly realized however, that radio is probably made up of 90% sales and marketing. Plus, radio is not like it used to be back in the day. It’s so computerized now. I went on a bunch of on-site events but they were a nightmare to me – dealing with all those crazy parents. Thankfully I never had to get on the mic. That truly would have been a disaster.

Along with that internship was the one day a week at Extra. That seemed like it would be pretty cool. I’d get to go on some shoots and learn a lot from the producers and crew. So wrong on that one. I would arrive at the Extra offices at 8:30am per their request. No problem, except no one would speak to me until after 9 when the phone call from LA would come in. (Actually, no one really spoke to me even after 9am). After that they would inevitably stick me with the editor to watch him endlessly edit until a shoot came along where I would tag along and do NOTHING. Going on shoots was sometimes fun. My first day I went on a Victoria Secret photo shoot with Heidi Klum. I met some cool people yeah but learned NOTHING.

Now I am getting a little frustrated and perhaps wondering really what a career in the entertainment field would be like. Last up in college is the senior seminar where you make your last big project. We had fun writing, directing, acting in, and editing our little documentary – sure. It wasn’t until one of the very last seminar classes that I really began to second guess myself and this whole TV thing. We had a speaker that really just scared the hell out of me. The only point I actually remember her making was that TV/Film is all about sacrifice and living on beans and water. Wow – the text book didn’t say anything about that. About how unstable the industry is, how shitty the pay is and the treatment is when you just start out, and how if you don’t kiss some serious ass you most likely won’t succeed. What a wake up call.

After graduating, my first TV job was a non-paying one on a Children’s candid camera show. Welcome to the real world. Six days a week I would trek in to the office, pack up the van with cameras, props, audio, coolers, and fake trees and head to some god awful location somewhere in Manhattan. The day would basically go like this…..pack van, drive to location, unpack, carry heavy equipment really far, piss off NYers walking by, ask those pissed off people to give me permission to air them being humiliated, re-carry, re-pack, unload, and head home tired and broken.

The next job in TV I had came a few years later which led to the next and the next and finally to the last long-term TV job I had which ruined me and made me an angry bitter person. I really truly found out how unless you kiss ass all day and be little miss “whatever you want”, it is really really hard to move up. And people will LIE many times to your face and not give a damn about it. The EP was the only one that gave me hope. She was the first genuinely nice person I met that made it that far without sacrifices herself or her soul. So after a year and 3 months of that job I decided to give it up and get a real job. I just don’t love it enough to put up with it and clearly I am not the right kind of person for that field.

I got a taste of what I had been missing when by a fluke my aunt called to let me know her company needed a temp for a few weeks. Well that few weeks turned in to 4 months and I only wish it could have been even longer (damn stocks!). I realized that this whole bloody time I could have had a life, not working 8am-who knows when. I always saw myself married at 26 (well that’s what the psychic in New Hope told me anyway), hopefully with some kids soon after. I feel like I have wasted my life heading down a path that clearly was not meant for me.

I hope that this was only a small detour in my life and happiness and stability are not too far down the road. I see my friends from High School getting married, having babies, buying houses…… that’s what I want. If I had chosen a different direction to head all those years ago, who knows what my life would look like now. Don’t get me wrong though. I have met some amazing people along the way and have some great memories. But they aren’t any memories that impact anyone but me. I would love to make a difference in the world and to people other than myself. I want to make someone proud. I know there are millions of people in this world far worse off than me so I probably have no right to complain and I should be happy and grateful that I have an amazing family to support me.

Here’s to hoping the next 10 years will bring all that I have been seeking.

Jill E.

Apparently I Repel Giraffes

2008-05-26T21:57:00.008-04:00

Who doesn’t love a giraffe? They’re tall, uh…..well they are certainly tall. Well I don’t know exactly why I fell in love with giraffes but there you have it. This sad tale I am about to tell chronicles my several attempts to come up close and personal with a giraffe. Based on the title of this entry one can deduce that the happy Jill-Giraffe meeting has still yet to happen. I know many of you are thinking, but wait, you’ve gone through the safari at Great Adventure, surely you have seen a giraffe? Well yes. But I don’t count driving passed a herd of giraffes a personal encounter. It’s more a case of trying not to hit them or have them bump their ass into your car. I’ve had several camels give me the bump and it’s not enjoyable my friends.

In 2003 I ventured with my cousin to the Animal Kingdom Lodge in magical Walt Disney World. We wandered around inside and then headed outside to check out the animals. People who stay in the AK Lodge always talk about how the giraffes come right up to their windows. They wake up and BAM, there’s a giraffe just hanging out. So I thought, yes, I am gonna get to see a giraffe. As evidenced in picture 1 above, I did have a lovely time with some zebras. Sad giraffe experience #1, the next picture is as close as they were getting. Oh well. There’s always a next time.

Cut to 2006. This is gonna be the year of the giraffe. At the end of ’05 I watched the most fabulous and tragic giraffe documentary. Only a few months later I was off to Florida again where I would be visiting a zoo where you can FEED THE GIRAFFES, I would be staying IN the AK Lodge, and I would be venturing to the Animal Kingdom Park. Three opportunities to meet a giraffe, what could possibly go wrong?

Opportunity 1, we head to the Brevard Zoo to feed giraffes!!!! We got right up to the giraffe area where there were ZERO giraffes. The kind lady (although I was cursing her out big time in my head) informed us that the giraffes were scared away by sirens on the street and would probably not be returning. Wanting to cry, my cousin let me know that we were gonna take a train ride and you could see the giraffes from the train. Yeah, as you can guess, no giraffes.

Ok, so I am gonna be staying at the AK Lodge. Of course the room I was staying in with my friend was by the pool and NOT by the animals. I guess there will not be a morning tea with the giraffes on this visit. All I got was the next picture above. Giraffes chillin’ a mile away with no intention of headin’ my way. So let’s try the park. I did the Safari ride in the morning like they recommend but alas, no giraffes anywhere near our vehicle. 3 Strikes I’m out on this trip.

So now we shoot to 2007. One more visit to the Brevard Zoo and one more trip to the Animal Kingdom. This trip is golden. This is really gonna happen for me! Or so I thought. First we head to the zoo where again NO GIRAFFES! Of course to pour salt in an open wound my cousin informs that that every time they go to this zoo Brielle gets to feed a giraffe. Good for Brielle. I mean I love her but come on. THIS girl needs some giraffe love. But it’s ok, maybe I won’t get to feed a giraffe but I’m going to the Animal Kingdom really early. Well, if you check out the next shot, all I got is more giraffe ass!

Now it’s later ’07 and we are off to the Bronx Zoo. Hadn’t been there since I was a kid. Very excited. “Oh giraffes are that way”, I tell my mom. “Oh the sign says there is a baby”. Great…..the next picture shows just how exciting these giraffes turned out to be. Instead of getting great pictures of giraffes, I ended the day thinking I may be lunch for some hungry cats. Creeeepy.

These sad and tragic experiences are the reasons why I have deduced that I repel Giraffes. And to be honest, it’s not just giraffes. I also seem to repel Manatees and Alligators. Although repelling Alligators may not be such a bad thing. I’m ok with that one.

I am making a public plea to any giraffe owners out there. If you have a giraffe as a pet as so many people do, please invite me over for a play date! I swear I will not kill your giraffe!

It’s ironic that I’m ending this blog as Jon & Kate plus 8 is on TV and they are at the Zoo. At the Zoo and PETTING A GIRAFFE. Someday my dream will come true. I only have to believe. In the meantime, I guess I’ll have to settle for the drive-through safari.

Dreaming of Giraffes,

Jill E.

Confession of a Sci-Fi Geek

2008-05-25T22:11:00.002-04:00

This whole blogging thing is new to me. I was never much good at writing and I always thought of it as a chore. To my grandmother’s chagrin, I also absolutely hate to read. My mind is constantly wandering and it takes something truly fabulous to get me to read and actually stay interested. I didn’t even finish Paula Deen’s memoir and if you know me you know how incredibly crazy that is! (Sorry Paula!) But every night without fail, I head to the blog of Mr. Joseph Mallozzi to read about his no-doubt adventure filled day with smoke tents, crazy dogs, and Lamb dinners. Since I have given up my path in TV, I pretend I’m still in that world by reading his stories and having a good chuckle before I head to dreamland.

Mr. Mallozzi not only inspired my blog, but he also has inspired me to come out and admit something about myself that I have kept hidden from almost everyone around me. Not to worry, it doesn’t involve a crime. Unless of course quality TV is a crime. Anyway, today I am going to let the world know that I am a full on sci-fi geek and damn proud of it. JM is the current show runner/EP of my favorite TV franchise which I am going to say out loud….or type out loud….STARGATE! Yes, I watch Stargate! I also watch Battlestar Galactica. How do you like that??? AND, I used to watch Farscape….the one with the puppets! Oh yeah! AND, I have all ten seasons of SG-1, all nine season of the X-Files, and all fours season of Farscape on DVD which I watch on a daily basis. Actually, I’m listening to a Stargate commentary right now from season 9. Loving it!

Laugh if you want, but Sci-Fi television is some of the smartest out there. I have one friend, one, that watches or watched these shows and we met because I asked him a question about a convention. No I have never been to a convention but it’s not because I wouldn’t want to. It’s because I am a cheap bastard and I have no one to go with. (Looking for some pity here.)

Now that I have let the world in on my deep dark secret, I have to take a moment to bitch. I worked on several TV talk shows over the past few years and NONE of them ever had ANY actors from any of my sci-fi shows. I will exclude the X-Files from that I guess because it was on network TV. David Duchovny was on one of the shows and I literally melted into a puddle as he brushed passed me. I mean, Fox Mulder, in the flesh. Anyway, I digress. Why is it that these incredible actors never get exposure for themselves or their shows? There are a lot of sci-fi fans out there. Maybe they are living in hiding like I was but they are out there! I’m waiting for that day to come. We got Letterman, Leno, Martha, Ellen, Kilborne, Tyra freakin’ Banks, blah blah blah none of which will give my shows publicity. I will give Lettermen some credit because he did have the cast of BSG do the Top Ten List when they were in town for the upfronts. Some of the guests on these shows are insanely boring but that seems to be ok with their producers. Oy! I could go on and on but I want to hear the rest of this DVD commentary so I’m gonna sign off.

Be who you are and don’t be ashamed!

I dedicate this entry to the one and only Mr. Joseph Mallozzi!

Peace!

Sci-Fi Addict Jill E.

American Idol Is Like Crack

2008-05-23T17:54:00.006-04:00

I was in college when American Idol started. I would hear people talk about some girl from Texas and some kid from Philly with crazy hair but never much cared. Come finale night I thought, hey why not, I’ll give this little show a chance. I remember watching the finale and loving Kelly Clarkson but like so many others, wondering what the hell was the deal with this Justin character???

Come season Two I watched from day one and that’s when the obsession began. The moment I saw that geek from North Carolina sing “Always and Forever” I was hooked! And don’t judge me, yes I love Clay Aiken and no there is nothing wrong with that. My friend Janine and I were both obsessed (I’m not the only one) and would gather together every Tuesday night to watch in awe. It was clearly the highlight of the week. Sadly, come finale night, as I was sitting in the Continental Airlines Arena watching my Devils lose a playoff game, I got a phone call informing me that Ruben had somehow beaten out my Clay to become the second ever American Idol. Don’t even get me started. It still hurts to this day.

As the seasons progressed, despite there not being a contestant anywhere near as fabulous as Clay, I continued to watch religiously. There were quite a few points that I would insist I would never watch again like when Jennifer Hudson got the boot. Alas, I continued because the power of Idol is just too strong. I try to leave but it draws you back in every time.

The American Idol storm just kept on picking up speed spitting out winner after winner with quite a few failures along the way. Come season 6 I had the privilege of working the NJ/NY auditions. I had to take “vacation” time from my real job to be at the arena at 5:00am but nothing was stopping me. Day one was the sign in. Thousands of Idol wannabes running to the tables ready for their audition ticket and wristband. Day two was the cattle call audition where I was bombarded with crazies all thinking THEY were the next American Idol and not taking rejection very well at all. The following days were the mock judge auditions where the lucky few to make it to the next round audition for 3 producers acting as the judges. It was kinda disappointing because not too many people seemed strange UNTIL I watched them on TV in the audition room. Wow. Truly special people. Despite my newly gained knowledge of the manipulation of reality tv, this first-hand experience only renewed my love for this American Idol.

We conclude with this past season, season 7! Not since Clay Aiken have I enjoyed a contestant as much as David Cook. Oh my! Those looks, that confidence, that hair, that sensitivity, that guitar, and of course that voice. I like to think he was singing to me each week! I have no reason to think otherwise. Every week I was waiting for him to get the boot like Chris Daughtry – way before his time – but thankfully it never came to pass. Finale night was oh so stressful for me. I never get that. Why are these kids not nervous and I am peeing my pants at home ready to throw a hissy when MY contestant doesn’t win. Well this year, expecting the worst, I stood on my feet ready to run away when they announced Archie’s name so I wouldn’t have to watch him in celebration. Much to my relief and excitement, it was David Cook’s name that was called. Screams ensued followed by celebrations of dance.

So another Idol year has come and gone and the addiction grows stronger and stronger. I’ve tried to give it up but the force of Idol won’t allow it. The need for it each week gets stronger and stronger.

While I wait for January when we get a new crop of wannabes, I will relive all the Idol glory on YouTube. Thank goodness for YouTube!

For all you other Idol addicts out there – it’s been a good ride. Now who’s gonna buy me my tour tickets? I’m serious!

Call me.

****I just realized I never gave any Simon love in this whole AI blog entry! What would Idol be without Simon Cowell?-----NOTHING! Simon is like a refreshing voice of honesty always saying what I am thinking but no one else has the guts to say. I love it!

Enough said.

Jill E.

All God's Creatures

2008-05-22T20:57:00.002-04:00

Other than fish, a bird that lasted about a week, and a bunny that I was semi-afraid of, I never grew up with pets. I fondly remember a traumatic experience with goats on a field trip in second grade that was probably made worse by my previous lacking of animal interaction. As time goes on I am learning not to fear house cats or dogs that I could easily drop kick should one attack me. It’s a slow process but I feel I am making much progress. After a 20 hour drive to Florida with my aunt’s cat crying in the back seat, I feel like we bonded. And then my cousin got a truly insane cat that I actually snuggled with (evidence above). And now I find that my other aunt’s two dogs are like two of my pals. They each have their own wacky and wild personalities.

Bottom line here, I am starting to appreciate and understand animals more than I ever have before. They are far from unintelligent. They understand what’s going on around them. They feel pain both emotional and physical just like we do. They know how to love and get love back in return. My aunt passed away a few months ago and was very sick prior to that. As her illness progressed, her cat’s health declined. He knew what was going on and he died a few weeks before she did. I am certain he died of a broken heart as many humans do when there life long companion passes away.

That being said, why do people think that it is ok to mistreat animals? Why do they think it’s no big deal to abandon a pet to die? Do they think they don’t know what’s going on or that they don’t feel hunger pains? I often watch Animal Planet with my mom and the amount of abuse to animals – for no apparent reason - truly astonishes me. Animals are left outside with no shelter, left with no food, tied to poles for their whole lives and never shown love, used for dog fighting…the list goes on and on. Would you do that to your own child? If you don’t want to take care of a pet then don’t adopt one. If you have one but can’t take care of it, give it to a no-kill shelter or find a loving home. There is no need for this senseless abuse.

On Ellen today, there was a man named Steve McGarva (Pictured above). He’s an artist who was in Puerto Rico when he discovered what the locals had named “Dead Dog Beach”. A beach where people go to abandon there animals. Thousands of dogs are left there with nothing. Since he discovered this beach, Steve has made it his mission to save as many of these animals as possible. www.islanddog.org is Steve’s website. It’s amazing how much of a difference one person can make.

Today I leave you with the wise words of Mr. Bob Barker…."Help control the pet population. Have your pets spay or neutered."

Listen to Bob. He knows what he’s talking about!

Hug your pet.

Jill E.

Chocolate

2008-05-20T20:12:00.000-04:00

Today’s topic is not quite as profound as the previous but no less meaningful in my life perhaps. That topic is of course – CHOCOLATE! There are those few, including the fabulously southern Clay Aiken, and others who suffer one of the worst injustices, that being an allergy to chocolate. However, the majority of us healthy individuals find it hard to live without chocolate. Really, really hard. I know it’s not just me. Chocolate is all around us and comes in many shapes, sizes, colors, and flavors, just like us human beings. How can you not love something that reflects who we are as individuals? Referring to the pictures above we have a few examples of chocolate wonder.

For one, chocolate can be made into bars! Who doesn’t love a Snicker or a Caramello or a Twix??? Then of course there is the chocolate for dipping. Relatively new to this area is the chocolate fountain. No more boring old fondue pot in this house. Bring on the waterfall of glorious diabetes waiting to happen. It’s perfect for dipping your variety of fruits and pound cake. Or like Paula Deen, you can just stick your face right in and drink straight from the fountain. Just be careful not to burn your tongue! Next up is the chocolate that candy men feel the need to make into an assortment of real life objects. Who wouldn’t want chocolate in the shape of a wrench? I have a tool box full. Or perhaps chocolate that looks like a band aid. They really do have those. Then of course there is the kind you drink. Hot chocolate! Yum! It’s a meal in a cup. Perfect for those snowy days. Don’t forget the marshmallows! And of course chocolate comes in many colors as well. The somewhat less popular white chocolate comes in an array of beautiful colors from Big Bird Yellow to Oscar Green. I know this to be true because I have Sesame Street plastic candy maker things (yes “things” is the technical term) that you use to make these fabulous colors into the real Big Bird and Oscar. And would you believe it, they have now made chocolate phones!!!!! I can’t believe it!!!! Mine only lasted a week or so before I caved and ate it. Upon being rushed to the hospital I was informed the Chocolate phone is in actual fact not made of chocolate. A law suit is pending. Email me for updates.

Alas, with this many forms of chocolate how can you resist that creamy texture and amazing taste. It’s a perfect remedy for PMS, depression, joy, sadness, excitement, and of course hunger. I’m off to enjoy some cherry Hershey Kisses. To all of you chocolate lovers I leave you with this….. “Hershey’s Chocolate, Hershey’s Chocolate it’s a Hershey’s chocolate world. Wherever you go, no matter how far, you're always near a Hershey bar.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. And to those of you chocolate haters please check the phone book for the nearest psychologist. You are clearly not normal.

Have a Snickerific Day!

Jill E.

(Oh – If you want to relive that fabulous Chocolate World Tour check this out…. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-GgmdkGUPI ) I LOVE IT!!!!!

Hatred

2008-05-19T21:02:00.001-04:00

It’s 2008 and the amount of hatred in this world sometimes still amazes me. Perhaps I am too naïve, perhaps I just am not around it enough, maybe I just ignore it when I see it, whatever the case may be I still am shocked at how unintelligent people still are.

This weekend I participated in my 9th AIDS Walk NY. I can’t remember why I started walking when I was a sophomore in college but I have been walking ever since. Thank God HIV has never affected me personally but it continues to affect millions worldwide…..and not just people in Africa, or drug addicts, or gay people. I walk for the future. I walk so that someday there will be a cure. I walk so that my children will never have to worry about AIDS.

Every year I dread the thought of dragging my fat ass (or lack of ass) out of bed that one Sunday in May. But by the time I get to Central Park I couldn’t imagine not being there. I continue to be amazed by the kindness that each and every AIDS Walk volunteer and staff member show to each and every walker. Unlike other organizations, there is no monetary limit on a walker. I went with a friend one year who hadn’t pre-registered. He just signed up there and gave them $5 and the people couldn’t have been happier. It’s not just about the money. It’s about awareness and community and tolerance and love for one another.

Getting to the point of this rant…… This year I ended up walking alone. It was even more amazing this year because I got to take it all in and truly realize what an amazing event this is. (They raised 7 MILLION dollars this year at AW NY!) I was right up front for the opening ceremonies so I hung on to every word that the speakers spouted out. Each year they have one speaker whose life has been changed for the better by GMHC (Gay Men’s Health Crisis-they run the walk). This year it was a brave man who told his amazing story. It was the first time he publicly admitted not only that he was a gay man, but also that he was HIV Positive. It was so brave and so amazing! Something that god forbid I was in his situation, would never be able to do.

After his speech, and this is the first time this has happened since I have been walking, a man in the crowd started spewing such hatred at this man. I couldn’t believe someone would try to ruin such an amazing event with such ignorance! Sara Ramirez was heading back to the mic and she wouldn’t give this person the satisfaction of putting a damper on the walk or this brave man’s speech and courage.

So to the point…..Why do people hate? Why do people fear what is different?

PEACE

Jill E.