correspondence from j.

dear viewers,

2012-01-18T15:31:00.000-08:00

i'm fairly certain you care what i'm watching. that being said, i'm DEFINITELY certain you want my opinion on it all. so, here it is. a round-up of sorts:

*movies*

war horse: for reals, see it.

the devil inside: it's 83 minutes long. but like, 83 minutes. at 82 1/2 minutes it seems like the film makers said to each other "hey man, i'm sick of making this movie, wanna get some fro-yo?" and then the other guy (probably with a british accent) said "you're right on the mark, old chap, let's be done with it."...and then they got fro-yo. 83 minutes.

sherlock holmes: a game of shadows: first hour & a half = slow start; last scene = slow clap. that guy ritchie sure knows what he's doing (but i also said that about his divorce to madonna--grain of salt, people).

contraband: it could have used more of marky mark's abs.

mission impossible: ghost protocol: i actually missed the first 12 minutes or so, but from what i could gather tom cruise is trying desperately to make people forget how he is the conductor of the crazy train, headed in to Crazy Town (population: tom cruise), where he is currently running for office as mayor with a campaign slogan of "cruisin' in to crazy in 2012: coo-coo-ca-choo". he's crazy. but i like his hair.

**movies i've not yet seen, but i've seen the trailers (and sometimes that's just as good)**

the grey: if macgyver was a lion that was symbollic of Jesus, he would be liam neeson...and he would kick your ass.

moonrise kingdom: i'd like to brunch with wes anderson.

joyful noise: i mean...i mean....dolly par--i mean, queen lati--i mean....let's be honest. you know what i mean.

woman in black: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO HOGWARTS?!! (subtext: daniel radcliffe, you've been type-cast. it's basically the avarda kadarva of careers).

one for the money: two for the NO.

*television*

RHoBH: kim is drinking again with ken the troll. kyle is obnoxious. lisa is a crazy britch (i combined brit & bitch to make that word). camille, oh the difference a year {and change in publicist} makes! taylor: poster child for not mixing medications & alcohol & oklahoma. adrienne, the sanity in that crazy, plastic mix.

toddlers & tiaras: judge me.

glee: stop it.

new girl & happing endings: enjoyable. delightful. bound for syndication.

so there.

-j.

p.s. i also read books.

a christmas{shoes} proclamation to...whoever

2011-12-22T13:50:00.000-08:00

christmas shoes? *christmas sigh*

i ~~don't really care for~~ loathe the song "christmas shoes".

but j, it's so sweet & tender and all the little boy wants is to make his mom happy before she dies & and what kind of stone is your heart carved from that you hate such a melodic gem & christmas treasure?

well, my heart is not carved from stone and guess what--it's not carved from stupid either, and if you think it is then YOUR head is carved from stupid {except i would never tell you that because i can respect that we're all entitled to our own christmas music opinions}.

BUT, i have a litany--yes, a litany-- of reasons why i dislike this morsel of christmas sweetness. which i shall list for you now. {feel free to disagree, but also feel free to know i don't respect you}:

*it promotes child begging.

*the child has no manners. he tells the clerk to hurry--uh, it's christmas eve you little brat, everyone is in a hurry & he's probably over-worked & stressed out & probably didn't get a break & his feet hurt & the last thing he needs is a child telling him he's not doing his job good enough.

*it promotes child neglect. where is his supervision?

*i know there is a movie and a music video for this song, neither of which i've seen because my ears hate the song so much and they want to protect my eyes, but i imagine the actual shoes to be a bedazzled hot, hot mess. which brings me to my next point:

*the kid wants the shoes so his mom can impress Jesus, but Jesus always wore sandals so i don't think fancy footwear would really impress the King of Kings. if you really wanted to score fashion points with Him i would go the way of the robe {paying particular attention to stitching, probably in a solid color, lightly starched}. which brings me to my next point:

*society's obsession of living beyond our means & the emphasis placed on the importance of material things....just kidding. you thought i was going to get all Dave Ramsay on you, didn't you? i'm not. but seriously kid, if you can't afford it, don't buy it. draw your mom a picture, perhaps write a poem. maybe turn that poem in to a song that you can perform for her in the hospital and include a lyrical dance. i dare say nothing says 'i love you, merry christmas, i'm sad you're dying, etc.' like the fusion of ballet & jazz with contemporary dance techniques.

*let's talk about the children-of-the-corn choir they bring in to sing the last part of the song? it is....off-putting? creepy? the soundtrack to my nightmares? i don't know the right word, but it's a synonym to those.

*and mostly, it's trying too hard to make me feel christmas-y. i see where you were trying to take this, grammy-award-winning country group Alabama, i do. but you tried too hard & you lost me. it's like in "the parent trap 2" when haley mills was no longer the matchmaker, but the matchee, and her daughter & daughter's best friend were trying to set haley mills up with tom skerritt & when they went on the date the daughter & the daughter's best friend were making cookies & the cookies had chocolate chips, marshmallows, nuts, cinnamon sugar and the cookies looked amazeballs until they added jelly beans and then they lost me. that's what 'christmas shoes' is to me. it's the would-be delicious blind-date cookies that just tried too hard & ended up being vomit-inducing.

i know not every christmas song can be an automatic slam-dunk, touchdown, homerun (i'm looking at you osmond family rendition of "it's beginning to look a lot like christmas"), but i seriously don't like this song. you can though. just don't tell me about it. but i think we can all agree on the main point of this whole thing-- haley mills was way better at setting up her parents than lindsay lohan.

merry christmas, i hope you get shoes and that you can afford,
j.

dear atheists,

2011-10-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

i am a chubby girl who can't dance....like, at all.

PROOF! there is a God.

the Lord knows me & therefore cursed me with a stocky, traditionally samoan build & did not bless me with the gift of dance.

the Lord knows me & knows that if i was skinny & could dance like juliann hough in 'footloose' i would be the biggest slut...like, ever.

(because i totally would be)

in the wise & immortal words of the great garth brooks "some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers". (**little known fact: i used to pray to the gods of MTV to be able to 1-2-step and, also, for anorexia).

so atheists, any argument you may have is invalid. null. void. suck it.

amen,
j.

to my dear 'Baltimorons',

2011-08-29T21:07:00.000-07:00

well...the beat stopped (along with the quacking).

i don't know about you, but the post-show melancholy settled in almost immediately for me. i suspect it's because i've spent the last ten weeks with most fun group of people a gal could ask for. there was so much i wanted to tell you all in person on saturday, but because i have a condition that renders it nearly impossible for me to share genuine emotion without blubbering like a fool and because i'm not amish, i have to tell you all via the world wide web.

this show & this cast have been the greatest & most fun i've had the pleasure--nay, the privilege--of working with. that's not to say it wasn't a rocky road, but i think that everything that happened just made us closer & better. we had a lot of laughs & a lot of frustration {coincidentally both mostly took part in nearly deserted parking lots}. i know that for a lot us this experience didn't really become...um..."enjoyable" until around august 11th {think about it}, but can we all agree that the following two weeks were the most fun, like, ever?

i was thinking today of what i'll miss and even though there's so much more, here are some of the highlights:

*i'll miss Edna's legs.
*i'll miss Seaweed folding himself in half to get through that ridiculously small window.
*i'll miss Natasha having "dance sex" with Stage Left during "Big, Blonde & Beautiful".
*i'll miss Corny conducting the off-stage singers like he was Mack Wilberg.
*i'll miss watching Trevor on the monitor. i'll miss Trevor looking at the monitor & rolling his eyes at the same parts of the show every night. i'll miss texting Trevor & LOVINGLY making fun of you dear baltimorons while you were onstage. i'll miss Trevor letting me objectify his perfect physique everyday. i'll miss "Intimate Intermissions" with Trevor--i'll just miss Trevor, okay?!
*i will not miss un-mic-ing all of you with your sweaty nastiness.
*i'll miss watching Jersey dance {especially the part where he rips Motormouths pants off}.
*i will not miss "The Cats"...
*i'll miss this entire sequence: "You can't stop the beeeeeeat! TRACY!!"...*confetti cannon*...nothing....*confetti cannon* then walking past Fantasia laughing hysterically saying "not tonight, girl. it didn't go right tonight".
*i'll miss wondering if Carissa & Scott really are.....
*i'll miss being completely smitten with our entire male cast & wishing Alex R was 10 years older so i could marry him.
*half of me will miss the late nights at the VI, but the other half of me will love not having indigestion the next day.
*all of me will miss seeing you all everyday.

so until the next show {and there better be a next show}, i love you all & thank you for a great summer!

quack....quack...quack,
j.

p.s. Quacking was invented by Emilio Estevez in 1992 to cheer up Joshua Jackson. Fact.

dear self,

2011-07-07T12:03:00.000-07:00

why do we keep a candy dish in our office then get annoyed when people come in & ask for some?

and why do we continue to refill the dish with the specifically requested candy that the annoying people have asked for?

are we that lonely? how could we be--we have two cats!

you know what? i think we're people persons. and i think we secretly like being associated with chocolate & kindness. you know what else? i kinda like that about us.

let's file this one under "things not to change".

cordially,
j.

p.s. pick up some hershey's miniatures before work tomorrow.

dear < insert the name of a very specific gentleman >,

2011-06-15T08:50:00.000-07:00

we're friends.

i'm happy we're friends. and because i want to be a good friend, i tell you i'm happy for you that you found a wonderful girl that you like, maybe more than like. maybe.

but you know when i tell you i'm happy for you, you know i'm just telling you that i'm happy because you're happy--right? you know i'm basically the exact opposite of happy, right? you know my tender heart is broken, right? i mean...you read between those lines. right? because you know that while i sit here telling you we're friends, i'm really just trying to convince myself that it's enough to just be your friend.

and you know at that bbq last week when you two were holding hands and i was sniffling it wasn't because i have "super bad allergies". but i tell you that sort of stuff so you think i'm happy for you, and because i know you don't like it when i'm sad. because we're friends.

and you know that peach cobbler that the new-found-love-of-your-life made that i said was delicious? it wasn't. i just didn't want to seem catty or rude and i wanted her to feel good so that she would like hanging around us so that you will still hang around us. but as your friend i should tell you that that was the most disgusting peach cobbler in the history of cobblers and even the napkin i spat it in to wanted to vomit. the peaches should feel ashamed. the ice cream a la moded on to the cobbler should feel ashamed. and whoever took the time to write down the recipe so that it could be replicated should be ashamed....but i don't want to be rude.

i wish i was the kind of girl that shouted from the rooftops how head-over-heels i am for you, maybe that would have made a difference. but i'm not. i'm the kind of girl who sends anonymous cyber-correspondence to you {that you'll never read} & will listen to you for hours on end tell me about how wonderful she is, how frustrating it is when she does/doesn't do something, and tell you the right kind of flowers to get her, and help you plan a date night {that secretly i want to be taken on}, and will just be content to have that time with you, driving with you, talking with you. being with you.

because we're friends.

we're friends. and i'm happy if you're happy.

your good friend *tear*,
j.

p.s. i hope she makes you laugh. i like your laugh. a lot. {but not her laugh. her laugh sounds like a hyena in heat...but i don't want to be catty}.

a letter to the younger me,

2011-05-26T10:18:00.000-07:00

when you grow up, er, bigger {'up' growing hasn't really happened yet, so i can't let you know how that goes}, but when you grow up you're going to lie about your age...a lot. at first, in college, you're going to tell people you're 22, then you're going to actually be 22 and you'll start saying 21. eventually you're going to start saying 24. and 24 it shall be for a while.

but one day--today, actually--you will realize how totally awesome being an adult is. and it won't be because of anything major; you'll just be sitting in your office {yeah, you'll have an office} and you'll realize all sorts of awesomeness that as a little kid you were not privy to {yeah, you use words like privy}.

for instance, you can eat Skittles for lunch. you can go to a friend's house at 10:30 P.M. without asking. not only do you get to keep the toy in the cereal box, you my friend get to choose the kind of cereal--whole grains be damned! you can wear flip-flops year round. you can go to movies on weeknights. you choose all 6 FM pre-sets on the radio in your own car. you'll take the freeway, like, everywhere because years of driving have made you a pro at merging. you can buy CDs that have parental advisory stickers on them {but you don't because Pammy & The Chief raised you right}. you can swear {& sometimes you do because Pammy & The Chief had three other kids to raise so sometimes they didn't hear you & then habits formed and yadda-yadda-yadda}. you get to choose the kind of toothpaste you like. you can stay up until one in the a.m. watching the RHoNJ {it's not recommended when you work the next day, but you can just the same}. starbucks can happen as often as you like. wedding invitations will be addressed to you {thus, the aforementioned cursage}. some days you'll get to leave work early and on those days you, as an adult, will be able to have an impromptu picnic in the park and swing on swings and roll down hills and laugh until your nearly wet yourself just like you did when you were a kid. because some things you're just never really gonna grow out of.

2*cough*4,
j. {yourself}

to my dear friends,

2011-05-16T22:47:00.000-07:00

thank you.
my cheeks hurt--hurt so good.

i just love you dear friends. for a plethora of reasons.

i love that i have friends that will manage mischief with me, and that those friends will indulge me when i insist that in order to properly make mischief we must have an intricate and somewhat intense set of hand gestures & signals that would send Varitek's head into a whirl {i love that i have some friends that will catch that reference}.

i love my friends who will sit & laugh with me in to the wee small hours of the morning...police report pending.

i love that i have friends who want to call me at midnight & talk to me for two hours about their girl problems because they trust me.
i love that i have friends i want to call at midnight & talk to for two hours about my guy problems because i trust them.
(and like the real talking. the don't-hang-up-i'm-putting-the-phone-down-so-i-can-brush-my-teeth-but-i'm-still-here-so-keep-talking kind of talking).

i like when my friends tell me i look tan. no, seriously.

i love my friends that call me at 2 pm on a wednesday & insist on meeting at the nearest park with swings because it's may and the sun is FINALLY out in utah and we just absolutely need to be swinging in a park...and yes, i love those friends more when they suggest that hill-rolling should definitely happen too.

i love that i have friends that know the importance of trying--in the name of science--every frozen yogurt shop in valley to find the best one**.

i love that i have friends that don't require any original conversation from me & we can communicate entirely with movie quotes. stupid, ridiculous movie quotes. we're going to melrose.

i love that i have friends that will unknowingly go in to an interview with their sweater on inside out & still nail it! i just love having friends that still have a hard time dressing themselves because, sister, i'm right there with ya!

i love friends that email me a fantastic new quote or book suggestion they just found because they know i'll like it--and even if i don't, they did and that makes it worth sharing.

i love my friends that tell me my decisions are good. i love my friends more when they tell me my choices are bad. i love my friends most when they tell me whatever the truth is, but they tell it to me over cake.

i love my friends that sing everything and dance everywhere. like attention-starved children.

i love my friends that will roll their eyes at the same things i do, because there are a few people in this world i respect so much that i gauge my level of jerkiness on what they roll their eyes at. because if something is stupid enough for tara o to roll her eyes at, then i don't feel so bad rolling my eyes at it. like that last sentence *eye roll*.

i love that last week during one of those two hour midnight chats i realized that the past couple of weeks i had smiled so much that my cheeks literally ached from being so happy--so happy about nothing, just that i had such delightful people in my ordinary life.

your friend,
j.

**it's Yogurtland, by the way.

to whom it may concern,

2011-04-26T22:09:00.000-07:00

today i had revelation.

"Heart & Soul" is quite possibly THE most famous piano duet**. (that's not the revelation).

duet (noun): a musical composition for two voices or instruments. (the definition of duet is not the revelation).

i can play both parts of "heart & soul"--the top & bottom parts--at the same time, by myself. i don't know if this is the perfect analogy of my life (possibly) or an omen of things to come (please bless no), but *enter the revelation* i don't want to play duets by myself. so to the future mr. j, whomever you may be, i don't care if you want the top hand or the bottom hand, i just want to share the bench with you.

waiting,
j.

p.s. i liked that my revelation was soundtracked.

**of course i'm not taking in to account the version of 'Chopsticks' that Tom Hanks & Robert Loggia did in 'Big' on the floor keyboard. thank you 1988 for that delicious morsel of cinematic history.

dear hell,

2011-03-23T13:33:00.000-07:00

how ya doing down there? just checking to see if you had, indeed, frozen over.

i only ask because today during a very heated discussion, where people were trying {& failing} to make their points-of-view & opinions understood by everyone else without offending anyone {that's where failure reared its ugly head}-- i, Ms. J, was referred to as....wait for it...."the voice of reason" (direct quote, mind you).

yeah, i was confused too.

i was then asked...wait for it...to make a judgment call and settle the situation. oh Hell, keep in mind that i am barely capable of holding a conversation that does not consist completely of random movie quotes and obscure pop culture references.

regards,
j.

dear theatre,

2011-03-16T18:37:00.000-07:00

ah, the theatre! the theatre! what's happened to the theatre?

i enjoy you so very much.

where else would you find a 14 year old boy who, when trying to describe to his fellows tween-age actors how they should be acting thrilled & excited, says "just react how you would if the *real* Ethel Merman were to walk in the room right now!", in all seriousness. cut to thirty minutes later and have yet another 13 year old boy refuse to sit with his fellow thesbians because not a one of them knows who the "legendary" bernadette peters is...*tears*.

oh, the backstage drama is so much more entertaining than anything happening onstage.

merely a player,
j.

dear catholics,

2011-03-12T11:40:00.000-08:00

how do you do it? i gave up the swears for Lent this year--not taking in to account that Lent starts the same week that The Chief decides to start yard work.

let's clear something up. i don't swear like a sailor, but there are the occasional Ds or Hs peppered with the occasional more serious stuff should driving or the 'old grey mare' call for it. and until you have done yard work with The Chief none of you can judge me. you'd be all "Anchors Aweigh" too.

who is the patron saint of swearing? do mormons have some sort of rosary i could do?

!@#$%^&.
j.

memo to me:

2011-02-24T14:01:00.000-08:00

all changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy....
{anatole frances}

-j.

dear 2011,

2011-01-19T22:32:00.000-08:00

i welcomed you the way i welcome all important things in my life--with chocolate and freshly shaven legs.

less than three weeks in and i'm already anticipating that i'll enjoy you more than your predecessor, 2010. not that 2010 & i didn't have good times, but towards the end we both knew it wasn't going anywhere.

no regrets as far as the chocolate is concerned, but please bless i didn't shave in vain.

here's to you,
j.

an open letter of gratitude,

2010-11-21T17:47:00.000-08:00

cliched? but of course. but if we can't be cliche this time of year, when can we be?

with so many blessings to be thankful for a girl can get behind in her cyber-correspondence. so at the risk of seeming insincere, i've decided to lump up all things that i feel deserve an internet high-five during this, our time our thanks.
in no particular order:

thank you to my eyebrows for your gentle arch. i'm not saying i've got the best brows on the block, i'm just saying i've been to walmart recently & i ain't got the worst.

thank you to greg behrendt, whose contribution to the world of the written-word has given me literary confirmation that certain guys just aren't that in to me.

thank you to my windshield wipers. to steal a line from mr. johnny nash: 'i can see clearly now, the rain is gone...'

thank you to mr. christopher guest and troupe. you know why.

thank you yougurtland. your by-the-ounce deliciousness can be either the cherry topper to a lovely evening with friends, a comforting promise of better things to come after a craptastic day, or a delightful tangent on day of errand-running. either way, i tip my bio-degradable spoon to you.

thank you to all the mothers out there, for a cornucopia of reasons to be sure, but specifically for raising sons who scrape the snow off of girls' cars.

thank you to both laser hair removal AND high-frequency hair treatments for allowing me to dictate where i want hair & where i don't.

thank you to ms. julia freeman's iPhone photo library. {she knows why}

thank you to smart cookie...oh! just the name sends me in to a fit of pavlovian salivation.

thank you to DVR. "the whole point of the < DVR > is to record what's on tv when we're not home, but the whole point of being not home is to miss what's on tv".

and a very special, heartfelt thank you to my real friends & family who can recognize when i'm being sincere or just being...well, me.

thank your, ladies & gentlemen, thank your.

j.

to whom it may concern,

2010-10-27T21:36:00.000-07:00

re: the future "mr. j."

i would like a man who, when we are old & retired, will on a lazy autumn afternoon, {in the middle of the week} take me to get some See's chocolates & hold my hand as we drive up the canyon to look at the changing leaves, enjoy the crisp mountain air & remember how much we love each other.

i'm really a simple girl.

i would also like it written in to our vows that he let me pre-set five of the six radio stations in our car.

until then,
j.

dear winter,

2010-10-21T22:44:00.000-07:00

could you please hurry? i have a sneaking suspicion that if you hurry along, the world will stop playing katy perry's "california girls".

mmkay? thanks,
j.

to my coworker who practices zumba moves in the hall,

2010-10-19T22:11:00.000-07:00

could you stop that please?

fat & lazy,
j.

dear glee,

2010-10-12T20:39:00.000-07:00

listen. we need to talk.

you know i love you. your clever writing coupled with the spot-on comedic timing of one ms. jane lynch is delightful. and any song performed by kevin mchale and/or mark salling is enough to get me salivating and thanking the powers that be for dvr, making instant replay my favorite invention since facebook farkle.

but here's the thing--how dare you try and remake an elton john & kiki dee's Top 40 classic.
when you covered neil dimond's 'sweet caroline' i said a special prayer in my heart, thanking you for finally making his crap accesible.
and season 1's half-hearted attempt at remaking a queen song? let's be honest, you failed. and freddy turned over in his grave. but i forgave you.
last week i looked the other way when you did billy joel. he's fallen on hard times & i thought your homage to him was a kind thought.
but a remake of SIR elton john & kiki dee's 'don't go breakin' my heart' is unforgivable. {lea michelle, you're great, but the sugar-sweet, candy coating you put on all your vocals left me with more of an aspartame taste in my mouth}.

it wasn't good. it made me sad inside--like finn's dancing.
i guess i'm just hurt. because you did go and break my heart.

heartbroken {ironically},
j.

on a related note...

dear finn,
in the future, when you try to convince another guy that people will think he's gay if he sings with kurt, probably you shouldn't be wearing a grey, cashmere cowl neck sweater that looks like it came from Ann Taylor Loft's fall line. mmkay?

i swear you're gay,
j.

dear tara o & mr. b,

2010-09-20T21:16:00.000-07:00

in two days i'll be another year older and maybe or maybe not wiser too, but in any case i'll still be another year older & still eligible for your brilliant {albeit bittersweet} celebration.
but j.--bittersweet you say? yes, bittersweet. bitter because, well... *awkward laughter*...duh. and sweet because, well... *riotous laughter whilst reminiscing on last years party*...duh.

bring on the celebratory cookies & commemorative wooden crafts!

still...,
j.

p.s. http://randomthoughtswithfelicity.blogspot.com/2009/11/chastity-is-my-favorite.html
p.p.s. http://aroundtheworldwithgreg.blogspot.com/search/label/chastity

dear nephew,

2010-08-07T00:57:00.000-07:00

before you came along, i was disgusted by and in fear of....feet. yes, i suffered from feetaphobia {or some other official-sounding, from-the-latin-root-of name}. i still hate feet. i don't want feet touching me. feet should not touch other feet. amendments to the constitution should be written regarding this--and no, that is not going overboard.

but when i woke up from our afternoon nap today, the little piggy that should have gone to the market had set up camp in my left nostril and your other foot was resting comfortably in my ear.

i was totally okay with it.

and that, little one, is love.

wee, wee, wee,
auntie j.

dear readers,

2010-07-21T20:56:00.000-07:00

{all five of you}

well, i jumped aboard the blogging bandwagon. now it seems the thing to do is 'go private'. i'm debating this. my reasons for wanting to do so are three-fold:

1) there be lots of crazies out there in the great www. unknown. {aka, safety}

B) it seems like lots of people are doing this whole 'private' thing. {aka, i'm a follower}.

III) let's be honest, i don't have three reasons, but i wanted to use the term 'three-fold'. {aka, i'm lame}

my reason for not wanting to is simple & singular. if you look to the right side of this little ol' page, you'll see a counter. a vain, pathetic, little reason--but still a reason. i like to look at my little counter and see how many somebodies have ventured into the land of j. and here's the thing {which is going to blow reason #1 out of the water, but still} i don't even care if i know these somebodies or not because my desperate need for the numbers on that counter to go up, pathetic as it is, is so great it can only be rivaled by kristen stewart's need to look bored & unimpressed with her undeserved celebrity in EVERY picture. if the jblog went private, that little counter would very likely be rendered useless. no one would/could venture. i hate private blogs. i rarely go to them because i have to be logged in to my account to see them. and that involves effort. have i mentioned that if i can avoid doing anything that involves any effort whatsoever, i can & will?!

so that's where i am folks. i'm going to let this privatizing thought marinate for a couple of days. in the mean time, if you'd like to voice your opinion on the matter, feel free. if i can read & think about it without very much effort, i will. and if you'd like an invite to the jblog, hollar atcha girl.

undecided,
j.

p.s. speaking of bandwagons--go see "inception". and speaking of "inception", if joseph gordon leavitt is reading this {and i have a sneaking feeling he is}, i love you.

dear whatnots {part deux},

2010-07-06T20:01:00.000-07:00

*i recently discovered the game 'bananagrams'. uber-fun. nerds of world--UNITE!...and then come to my house & we'll play bananagrams.

*i'm pretty shallow. before going home to see mi familia after five days of camping, i stopped to get a pedicure. how can they love me if i can't love me?

*in seventh grade, my bff amie smith & i were suspended from riding the bus to school. i thought about that when i drove past the school today. that's right, DROVE past. take that elkridge middle school! twelve years after the fact, look who doesn't need your stupid bus!

*right now, i'd really like to play bananagrams. and if possible, i'd like to use the words 'ubiquitous' & 'writhing'. i think that would impress fellow players.

*my library fines are out of control.

*this past weekend i laughed so hard, oatmeal went up my nose.

*i haven't 'discovered' any great, new music lately. i'm always accepting referrals. {just saying...}

*about three months ago i learned the word 'penultimate' and today i used it {not in bananagrams though} and i felt really smart. then, i felt really snooty. so i made up for it by saying 'like' after, like, every other, like, word.

*i'm not a bradley cooper lover. but i saw the A-Team recently. and ladies, i think i get it now.

*even though it's summer and hotter than the catacombs of hell outside, i still enjoy my starbuck's hot chocolate on a fairly regular basis.

and that is that,
j.

p.s. several people, {11, not that i'm counting}, have asked about "new co-worker" that i've previously posted about. well here's the update on the old, grey mare: she's still trying to kill me....one nerve at a time.

to my across-the-hall-at-work boyfriend,

2010-06-30T21:09:00.000-07:00

what happened?!!

one minute we're bonding over the vocal stylings of freddie mercury & davey havoc and the next minute you {ever-so-sweetly} make me a mix CD with dido on it??!! who are you? i feel like you're not the same guy i fell in lukewarm like with three weeks ago. i mean...dido? really??

when you brought in that CD my level of twitterpation was off the charts. and it's not like it was all dido-y. let's break it down:
*the michael buble stuff--thumbs up, you know how to charm a girl.
*the sublime--righteous! i enjoy a good highschool 'santeria' flashback.
*the weezer--one of my top 10s.
*the pearl jam--we talked about this & how all i want in this life is for eddie vedder to sing "all i want for christmas is you" to me while a light snow gently falls around us.
*the tom waits--interesting. i think i get it--i could learn to get it.
*the my chemical romance--okay, who amongst us didn't have teenage years of angst {but you're 32, so aren't you past that?}
*the keUSDha--i'm praying that was joke. but i'll be honest, i can relate. some days i, too, wake up feeling like p. diddy.
*was...that....coldplay? uh, okay?

etc.

i like your versatility. and i can forgive there being not one rilo kiley, travelling wilburys, or andrea bocelli song on there. but i can't forgive the dido. and that you defended the dido song. vehemently.

here's the thing, i appreciate it. i'm not saying that i'm fickle. i'm just saying that if the water pressure isn't exactly 100% how i like it, i can't enjoy my showers. and if a man puts dido on a mix CD for me, i have a hard time liking him. so, i gave the CD to my coworker, who is enjoying it on her daily commute. i couldn't keep it. i thought that when i listened to it, i would be painfully reminded of what might have been......

we'll always have Queen,
j.

dear real housewives of draper,

2010-06-21T21:47:00.000-07:00

for the last time, NO! botox is not covered by your insurance policy. NO, i will not submit a "special request" to your insurance for you. NO, it doesn't look natural {and while we're on the subject, neither does your oompa-loompa tan, blonde-from-a-bottle straw hair, or your *ahem* upper-parts}.
perhaps, your self-improvement hobby should start on the inside. and no, i don't mean stomach stapling. seriously, read a book.

-j.

p.s. you look as stupid in your ed hardy T as john gosselin. 'nuff said.

dearest little laki,

2010-05-30T22:46:00.000-07:00

this is how my day went:
12:30 A.M. you wake up screaming like a banshee & won't calm down. {remember how i told your mom & dad i would take care of you through the night because i thought you did good through the night?}
1:20 a.m. we settle down in my bed. my queen-size bed.
1:25 a.m. i'm wondering how in the world a one year old can take up 7/8 of a queen size bed.
2:30 a.m. you're awake. i'm not.
3:12 a.m. you're still awake.
4:11 a.m. last time i remember looking at my clock. until...
6:20 a.m. grammy pammy takes you to "sleep" with your parents.
6:30 a.m. my alarm goes off....6:39, it goes off again....6:48, again.
6:51 a.m. i get up, i may or may not curse under my breath.
6:51-7:11 a.m. if any grooming took place, it was between these times. i don't remember--nay, i don't care.
7:11 a.m. out the door
7:38 a.m. arrive at work--surgery day. really?? i may or may not have cursed...out loud.
12:00 P.M IF i had recieved a break today, it should have been around now. didn't happen.
1:17 p.m. on the verge of insanity i run to jamba juice for 13 minutes and 16 ounces of pure "i couldn't care less-ness".
1:30 p.m. back to work
6:30 p.m. i screeched out of the parking lot. destination: home.
6:33 p.m. i realize i haven't gone to the bathroom all day.
6:33 & 20 seconds p.m. i realize i have never in my life had to go the bathroom more.
7:12 p.m. home, sweet home.
7:13 p.m. you come running in to my arms and give me the sloppiest, open-mouth kiss. ever...ever.
7:13 and 12 seconds, i realize i would re-live this day just to be able to re-live 7:13 p.m.

happy birthday little porkchop. you are the best part of my day, everyday.

i love you,
auntie j.

p.s. 7:15 p.m. finally got to the bathroom. halle-freaking-lujah!

dear self,

2010-05-10T00:35:00.000-07:00

how lucky you are to have not one amazing mother this mother's day, but four wonderful ladies to look up to. oh, those poor girls on jersey shore. maybe if they had a pammy, or a grams, or shanna-banana, or an auntie ML they wouldn't be one STD from death.

auntie ML: family party planner extraordinaire, amazing mother, exceptional aunt and although she raised mostly yankees fans i would still trust her to sell me a house.

auntie shanna-banana: second mother to 9, teacher, world traveler, should write a book on how to be an aunt {as she has set the bar far too high for the rest of us}. *must be reminded to have hot chocolate when she wants it*

grams: our matriarch. i suspect she is the root of all our "campbell ways", but also the root of any goodness anyone in our family has in us. card player, 12-cent gambler, a lady in every sense of the word...never met a truffle she didn't like.

pammy. the root of any goodness i have in me. my mom. i love you.

and since this letter is to myself, here's a porkchop picture just because.

lucky,
j.

p.s. and a happy birthday to this one:

the sis...we have our moments, but at the end of the day you're the only one who can out movie-quote me, and that's nothin' to shake a stick at. WATTAH! waaaattaaaaah! oil can! and i'm henry! got a lotta dogs here in the lobby. so, just say...utility closet? THE POEM! who cares about your potting bench, my back hurts all over! G-I-L-B-E-A-U-X...8? 8, oh no. you work at billy's burger bar! am i bovvered? i ain't even bovvered though. weeeEEElll. pine nut, cashew nut. white--all white pistacchio nut. i did a really sophisticated, sophia loren, persian eye....and uh, it was fifty cents back then. WAAAAAAATTTTTTAAAAAAAH!

dear casting director of glee,

2010-05-02T19:28:00.001-07:00

i think i just made your job easier.

try and tell me that this:

plus this:

does not equal this:

now this picture doesn't fully show the puck-hawk that is naturally growing in as his coif of choice. and his diluted ethnicity {although polynesian} gives him an edge to play a variety of races, including the brown/white mix that puck and quinn's love-child will be.

and i'm telling you, put a little abba on the old 'j'Pod and there's no stopping the musical genius of this kid.

hold the phone! the porkchop's going hollywood!

have your people call my people,
stage-auntie j.

dear whatnots,

2010-04-29T19:23:00.000-07:00

*i've been saying 'mazel tov' a lot lately. i'd blame my jewish roots...but i haven't any.

*when i'm having a particularly good hair day at work, i make up reasons to go to the office across the hall that is occupied by several single, good-looking guys. so far i have delivered fake mail, borrowed straws and reported a false, car break-in, among other things. {any port in a storm}.

*i don't need love. i have found oreo cakesters.

*i'm itching to go on a good bike ride. {dear weather, please cooperate. love, j.}

*all i'm asking for is ONE more album from rilo kiley.

*for better or worse, i'm really good at assigning nicknames to people.

*i really want to be best friends with tina fey and zooey deschanel. i imagine our brunches to be entertaining and soundtracked impeccably. {i imagine we're 'go-to-brunch' type gals}

*'the marriage ref' needs a new host. tom papa fails.

*camping needs to happen this summer. i'm also toying with the idea of a road trip.

and that is that.
j.

dear velvie,

2010-04-22T18:54:00.000-07:00

i love you dear friend and i miss you. after 16 years of being my sweet, little friend and pillow, i hope you are at peace.

because i've been crying over my dear, little velvie {the best kitty ever}, i thought this video was all too appropriate.

i love you velvet,
j.

dear dancing with the stars,

2010-04-19T20:16:00.000-07:00

um, kate gosselin? really? i have absolutely zero rhythm myself. like, none whatsoever. but even I could do this:

and on a good day, even this:

and i don't have 8 kids at home to neglect.

maya angelou wrote in a poem that 'everything has rhythm. everything dances.' well, at the risk of offending the poet and bearing the wrath of oprah--NOT everything! i've been watching for about four weeks and it's...just...painful. i feel actual, physical discomfort from watching her...perform? {that word could not be used more loosely}.
it's like watching really old people open-mouth kiss.
she just kinda bobs from side to side and let's her partner giro and fouette around her. she's like an ocean buoy--she can either be anchored or allowed to drift.

and i'm going to bring up the one thing that no one else has. she has been spray-tanned to the point that she is darker than her half asian children. and that's not okay. i don't know why it's not okay, but it's not.

danced out,
j.

dear aunties j-lyn & mel,

2010-04-19T19:41:00.001-07:00

at first it was a feeling. then it was a hunch. now it is full-blown fact, just short of being carved in to stone. I am porkchop's favorite auntie. to refute this would do you no good. accept it. learn to live with it. he still loves you....just less than he loves me.

porkchop, 10 months & 24 lbs of awesome!

cordially,
favorite auntie j.

dear mr. sandman,

2010-04-12T21:59:00.000-07:00

i thought we had a standing appointment every night, but somehow you missed me last night. there i was, tossing and turning and you never showed. i thought maybe a change of location would help, so i set up camp on the couch. same story. three episodes of 'wizards of waverly place' and half a 'law & order' later, i was still sleepless in salt lake. and by now i was hungry. not just a little bit either, i'm talking 45 minutes into a fast & testimony meeting starving. so there i am, feeling stood up, searching for grub. i live in a house where there is no shortage of oreos, but i took the healthier approach: butternut squash & string cheese. {sidenote-- butternut squash and string cheese is yummy. however, butternut squash and string cheese at 2 am? magnificent}.
i realize that you have many people to visit every night, but i figured that since the night before you didn't visit due to a sleepover with the porkchop i was due for an extra dose of sleep sand. i was wrong. well, i'd like to renew my nightly subscription. same bat time, same bat channel. your service is much needed and much appreciated...by all.

desperately seeking sand,
j.

dear group of highschool punks,

2010-03-25T21:43:00.000-07:00

yes that was del amitri's "roll to me" proudly blasting from the speakers of the old v-dub as i drove past your school. yes i did see you mocking my choice of auditory entertainment. no i am not ashamed. and yes, i do see some very bleak futures for you all if you don't soon learn to appreciate the classics {one hit wonders or otherwise}.

peace out and pull up your pants,
j.

p.s. and yes it was followed by mr. big's "next to be with you"

dear box of girl scout cookies,

2010-03-16T20:17:00.000-07:00

let's be honest, neither one of us stood a chance.

slightly bloated,
j.

to whom it may concern,

2010-03-11T17:07:00.000-08:00

today might just be the day i lose what's left of my workplace sanity.
as i continue to lose patience with "new co-worker" {who is dangerously close to losing all internet anonymity} i feel any and all kindness being sucked out of me at vamporic speeds. i feel that at the end of the day, as i am unscrewing the obviously fake perma-grin from my face, if i just slashed her tires--{not even all of them, maybe just one, a front one}, everything would feel better. maybe if she caught some incurable case of explosive diarrhea and couldn't come in to the office ever again, things would work themselves out. maybe if she took the elevator to the basement and it got stuck between the second and first floors and somehow the doors became welded shut and she was stuck over the weekend and didn't die but maybe was too emotionally scarred to work in our building ever again, that would work too.

THESE ARE THE THINGS I THINK ABOUT ALL DAY!!

scenarios. horrible, unkind scenarios. i don't want to damage her property, i don't wish disease on her bowels, i don't want to inconvienence our building maitenance manager--i just want her to stop talking to me, she speaks so loudly and everything has to be so intense. i just want her to stop touching me--hello? BUBBLE! i just want my old office life back. it was lovely. before her, we lived life at a level 2. right now, every day is at a level 8 or higher. please dial it back! i like level 2, it's peaceful. it's comfortable. people like level 2. "new co-worker" is the only person comfortable at level 8 (it's probably because she's so {in her own words} 'passionate about life--that's why i ski and grow my own herbs' no seriously, she actually spoke those words.)

in four days we'll have an office meeting and i'll try my best to voice my *cough* concerns as kindly as possible, until then...well it's a good thing costco sells oreos in bulk.

emotionally drained,
j.

p.s. on a much lighter note, i saw a commerical for chocolate cheerios--what? my two favorite things: chocolate and cereal! it's like delicious and awesome got together and made a baby!

dear utes,

2010-03-02T22:41:00.000-08:00

be afraid...

be very,

very afraid...

this saturday you're going up against national champions. you've been warned.

glad i'm not you,
j.

dear {future} thompson baby,

2010-02-22T22:22:00.000-08:00

i don't know who you are or where you're coming from, but could you please talk to the powers-that-be upstairs and ask them to hurry you along? your future mom and dad are dying to meet you, and having met them myself let me tell you, you are going to be one loved little kid. your future parents, morgan and brittney, want you so much, they have tried and exhausted so many different ways to get you, each time ending with heartbreak. so i'm cutting through the redtape and going straight to the source. you little one, need to get your diapered tush down here on earth pronto! and i promise that having morgan and britt for parents will feel like heaven all over.

anxiously awaiting your arrival,
j.

P.S. {to all others out there}
my dear friends morgan and brittney thompson have been going through the very emotional adoption process and have asked their family & friends to help get their story out there via blogs--well, via any way we can. i promise you that they are the type of people you want to raise children, they are quite simply wonderful people.
this is their adoption profile web address and their personal blog.

https://www.itsaboutlove.org/ial/profiles/22153118/ourMessage.jsf
http://brittneyandmorgan.blogspot.com/

look how cute they are--the very sight of them screams "fantastic parents"

dear tara o.,

2010-02-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

happy birthday, dear friend. 27 years ago the world had to make room for a little more fancy.
besides the fact that pammy would most likely prefer to have you for a daughter over *ahem* others, i rather enjoy you.
how does one not enjoy someone who can plan and execute a themed party such as this: http://randomthoughtswithfelicity.blogspot.com/2009/11/chastity-is-my-favorite.html ?
and how does one not enjoy an educator who can carry out sweet justice like this:
http://randomthoughtswithfelicity.blogspot.com/2010/02/sweet-justice.html ?
*i love the way you set a goal, and then--this is my favorite part--you work for and achieve it. i mean, who does that?? (you do, that's who).
*you are so wise beyond your years and still so young at heart, and i love that about you.
*i love that you read books, real go-to-the-library books.
*i love that you love and still get excited about all things disney, it's really quite adorable.
*i love that you get excited about wearing "sexy" shoes.
*i love that you use big words, but not to make others feel stupid, but just because you know big words.
*i don't know if i love that you love to run. just putting that out there.
*geeze, you're so responsible...i think pammy is hoping that will rub off on *ahem* others.

i think if i were asked to describe tara o., (after the disclaimer that i could not possibly find words awesome enough to do you justice), i would have to say that you require a steady diet of faith and fancy, with a little mischief here and there for good measure.
happy birthday tara o. you are, in a word, fabulous.

your friend,
j.

post script...

2010-02-17T20:45:00.000-08:00

not the greatest picture, but it was taken with my phone. this is the fort previously written about. yes, those are boxes of old patient charts and old hospital gowns. it's also furnished.

dear ghandi,

2010-02-16T18:08:00.001-08:00

okay, so i understand your whole "an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind" theory, what i don't understand is if whether or not that applies in the workplace. because when my co-worker decided today that 72 degrees wasn't warm enough {which it is} and changed the thermostat to 80 degrees, i turned the other cheek. BUT when she added the extra pleasure of the space heater, i retaliated with my personal weapon of choice--a fan. i turned that ventilado electrico up full blast. i wasn't going to fight fire with fire, i was going to fight fire with ice. and i was going to win.
ghandi, you also said that whatever i do will be insignificant, but it's important that i do it. i felt that i was working for the good of all humanity, er, at least the good of the rest of the office. i haven't earned thermostat privileges, what makes the newbie think she has? and again i say "BRING A SWEATER!!" tell me ghandi old boy, in all your indian wisdom and righteousness, was i wrong??

being the change i want to see in the office,
j.

memo to miley,

2010-02-12T15:32:00.001-08:00

do NOT rock your kicks tonight--everyone will be in stilettos.

--j.

dear fort,

2010-02-09T07:33:00.000-08:00

{as a builder of many forts, i should specify that this particular fort was the one built yesterday, in the basement of my office building, made of boxes of patient charts and old hospital gowns}

ahem, as i was saying...
dear fort,
i had so much fun with you yesterday. it's no secret that i often sneak to the basement at work to get away from it all. was it just me, or was the moron count especially high yesterday? is it too cliche to blame it on a monday?
i usually ride the elevator downstairs with my eyes close and pretend i'm on vacation. a short, two-floors-down vacation. now normally when i'm "searching for charts" i just play sudoku on my phone or take a quick catnap, but yesterday was killer, and i needed something more than 81-squares of stress relief--but what? enter you, fort.
as i was sitting there in the cold, quiet {beautifully quiet} basement, surrounded by dozens and dozens of boxes of old patient charts i spotted another box of old hospital gowns--BOY GEORGE! thems the making of one pretty righteous fort!
and so i did. i stacked, i draped and i escaped--if only for a brief time. it was a small fort, a modest fort, but oh how it withstood the bombardment of a craptastic day! it was my personal refuge from the storm of onery patients, obnoxious coworkers and the demand of tedious, daily duties.
and so i say 'thank you, fort, you made the rest of the day bearable'. i only wish the lighting had been better so that i could have taken a better picture with my phone. i would like to say that i realize building forts is...juvenile, for lack of a better word, but i thought it best to resort to juvenile behavior rather than violence in this situation....and it was either a fort or curling up in the fetal position and sucking my thumb, crying for pammy to come and get me. i submit i made the right choice.

sane {now},
j.

dearest, darlingest momsie and popsicle,

2010-01-25T21:32:00.000-08:00

(aka pammy and the chief),
today marked 30 years of what some might call "wedded bliss". hmmm...do su'as do bliss? not sure, but whatever you want to call it i say you have at the very least earned yourself a slice of cake!
i'm not sure what is exactly kosher to say for anniversaries--congratulations? well done? well i'm gonna go with 'thank you'. thank you for the love you two have shown each other and us youngins. thank you for sticking it out through the good and the not-so-good times. thank you for teaching us patience and kindness by treating each other with those things. thank you for working hard to make our home so comfortable and full of love.
you know how at like the oscars or the grammys celebrities are always thanking their managers, agents, plastic surgeons, etc. saying they 'wouldn't be here without them'? well, i quite sincerely would not be here without you. no seriously, without you two falling in love and making it official 30 years ago, i would not be here--there's actually scientific reasoning and junk to back that statement up.
so thank you. keep the love going. oh and i love you too!

your favorite and most well-behaved child,
j.

p.s. i like calling you two 'pammy and the chief' because it makes me think of you as the cooler, non-musical version of 'the captain and tenille'--they taught us that love will keep us together, and you know what? they're right.

dear new coworker,

2010-01-25T11:44:00.001-08:00

welcome to the office--bottled water's in the fridge, first aid kit's in the back, don't get in my face. new coworker, here's what you need to know about me: i have a bubble. it's personal space that i cherish dearly and you have invaded it four times this morning already. here's what else you need to know about me--i'll be nice the first seven times i have to ask you to not touch me and then by request #8, i'll just be rude. not because i'm trying to be rude, but because after seven times of asking you the same thing politely that's just how it will come out. subtlety? eh, never really been my style.
i'm writing this to you as request #5 to please stop touching me, stop getting so close to me that i can smell what you had for breakfast and please stop with the "friendship pokes". i have friends, we don't poke each other, especially when i'm talking to patients, especially when i'm ignoring them on purpose. here's the thing, you're 46, i have a 6 year old cousin who knows not to act that way.
also, while we're on the subject of things you really shouldn't do--don't tell me how to do my job. i'm actually pretty good at it and i've been doing it for two years. i think you've been here for about 12 minutes, you've yet to learn it all. I haven't learned it all, but if i have questions please believe that i'll ask someone who knows what they're talking about and not someone who will answer my questions by relaying what they learned from last week's episode of grey's anatomy.
i'm sure i do things that bother you--for instance i put on a sweater when i'm cold rather than turning the heater up to 94-freaking-degrees (we'll talk about that later), or perhaps other things. i would be happy to work on something that i'm doing if it makes you uncomfortable, let me know.

bubbled,
j.

p.s. really, bring a jacket i'm sweating off pounds here.

dear mtv,

2010-01-19T22:31:00.000-08:00

thank you for taking the trashiest people, doing the filthiest things, with the lowest IQs and turning them into the celebrities that young kids will aspire to be like. jersey shore? teen mom? glamourizing those lifestyles, i mean...seriously? are the network powers-that-be really that hard up for new show ideas that THIS is what they came up with? that's uh, really scraping the bottom of the entertainment barrel.

saved by the bell, 2010?

i probably sound like a prude. i'm just saying i miss the good ol' days of mtv, like when you actually played music. but who am I to judge. i grew up watching "dr. quinn, medicine woman"--maybe that was racy back in the day and i just didn't realize it. one episode (first season, episode 7) dr. mike and sully were hididng in the woods whilst some old-time hitmen were chasing them because they were trying to prove that a coalmine owner was contaminating colorado spring's water supply with mercury and--i forgot where i was going with that, but sully did have his shirt off a lot.

i'm just saying--and i'll probably sound uber-lame--that i weep for younger generations being raised on this garbage. boo mtv, boooo.

not mad, just disappointed in your decisions,
j.

p.s. i think i'm okay with uber-lame.

dear manti,

2009-12-28T20:53:00.001-08:00

i just want to say that as far as brothers go, you are totally boss. justin may have brought sexy back, but you bro, you brought groovy back. your particular brand of groovy will never go out of style. let me just say that being your sister as been a pleasure--nay, a privilege. sure in highschool it got old fast when every girl in the school would approach me to tell me how much of a dreamboat you were (but the silver lining on that cloud was that i was cool by association). i really appreciate that i can be a completely lame around you. i even more appreciate when you are lame around me--somehow when you are being a nerd, it still comes out cool. huh. and for the most part i love your perpetual good mood.

(cousin jared on the left, brother manti on the right--two awesome fellas)

there are so many awesome things about you (like how you are one of the most athleticially talented, naturally suave, devastatingly goodlooking, incredibly hilarious, kindest, most patient, and most fun guy ever) but probably the best thing about you is how humble you are, and how you're probably wishing i'd stop writing about your awesome-ness on the www. okay, i will. i know this is totally not your style. but i love you--and how but via blog do you let people know you love them now-a-days?
let's leave it at this~ you manti, are cooler than the other side of the pillow. i hope you had a stellar, albeit, low key birthday. keep on rockin'.

a sister who lucked out,
j.

p.s. why do girls wear lipstick and perfume? because they're ugly and they stink.

dear osmonds,

2009-12-22T22:38:00.001-08:00

yesterday you helped me find what has been eluding me all december--my christmas spirit. and it wasn't just donny and marie, it was the whole lot of you barbershop-loving mormons--alan, merrill, wayne, jay and of course, little jimmy. tuesday as i trudged to my snow-covered car-cicle, all i could think was 'do i attempt the drive home and most likely end up as a story on the 10 o'clock news that will undoubtedly include the phrases '...swerved out of control into oncoming traffic...' and '...this beautiful, young woman is survived by...' or do i set up camp in the old vw and hope to survive the subfreezing temperature throughout the night, surviving only on wheat thins and a prayer'?? {thems some pretty bleak options}.
as i started to warm the car up i accidentally hit the 'tape' button on my radio, because yes, my car is cool enough to have a tape deck and i'm just old-school enough to have a tape in there. to my incredible pleasure do you know what cassette was in there, and must have been in there for months?-- The Osmond Christmas Album. IT WAS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! no seriously al, merr, wayne, don, marie, jay and jim--that's my absolute favorite christmas album of all time! i promise i'm not just saying that because you guys are like mormon royalty, it's true. i would swear that on a stack of marie's special edition collectible dolls.
suddenly, i had joy and peace-on-earthfulness and christmas spirit. i'm so excited for christmas. i'm excited for time off, i'm excited for porkchop's first christmas, i'm excited for sleep--sweet, blessed sleep! after this righteous discovery i realize that i can have christmas all year long, so long as i have the osmonds in the car all year long.
and so i say 'God bless us, one and all'.

making merry,
j.

p.s.is it just me or does it seem like a somber, creepy reverence sets in when osmonds sing? not particularly christmas songs or church songs, but just in general. maybe it's the teeth. just a thought.

dear volkswagen,

2009-12-21T23:27:00.000-08:00

you and your german engineering are, how do you say, das suckfest. boo, v-dub, boo.
also, and i'm not blaming you for this, but apparently my humor is lost on mechanics (and airport security, but that's another letter)--and that did not add to an already unpleasant experience and an overall craptastic day.

future pedestrian,
j.

p.s. special internet high-five to the sis for helping me out today, thanks jen.

to whom it may concern,

2009-12-17T22:34:00.000-08:00

what exactly are the rules of white elephant gift-giving? because tonight i got a rat. no seriously. a live, albino rat with red eyes and a disturbingly long tail. funny? yes. cute? a little. covered in its own rat urine? goes without saying. is there a rule--or could we make one--that says you don't bring a living thing unless you want to leave with it too?
all i could think when i picked my gift was 'if this is a severed head, i'm going to be very upset'. but i knew when i pulled that Petco box out of the gift bag that i would be spending the better part of the evening scrubbing and sanitizing my hands. oh, poor little rob van winkle (that's the little guy's name), he looked so frightened when i opened his box. his little, red eye's seemed to plead "pleeeaase don't sell me to science". {i'd never, rob van winkle, i'd never}
hey, i love a good gag, who doesn't? and he was a sweet little fella, but listen jake (the rat-giver, he gets no internet anonymity) you didn't just give a joke, you gave a chore--merry christmas, j, now you're responsible for another living thing. i had to find rob van winkle some grub (cheesecake, aka rat dessert), make him a little bed out of tissue paper and watch over him the rest of night so he wasn't so scared.
luckily, ben loved the white rat/white elephant idea so much he's taking it to his ward christmas party next week, so i guess i'm perpetuating this whole living gift dealio. whatever, so long as i don't have to clean up litte, rat poop pebbles i say merry christmas to all and to all a good night!

ratless,
j.

dear siblings,

2009-12-10T22:25:00.000-08:00

good times tonight, goooood times.

love ya,
j.

memo to me

2009-12-09T12:10:00.000-08:00

dear j,
keep this in mind: one day when we {hopefully} find our "one and only" let's make sure he's the kind of "one and only" who will scrape off our windshield on cold, snowy mornings.

word to myself,
j.

dear jenny lane,

2009-12-06T20:39:00.001-08:00

so it is true what they've been saying on the train--

happy birthday!

you know what i was thinking? (silly question, you most certainly do) anyway, i was thinking that i am so glad that even though i wanted so badly to dislike you when i first met you--SO badly--i'm glad that i couldn't. how could anyone? let me take you back to that day:

sitting at helaman field, in the cold, post-rain storm, provo ambience waiting for a rugby game to start. i see a certain player we both have ties to walking you over to meet his sisters (me). this is what is going through my mind: "why are they holding hands? stop holding hands. ugh, she's blonde--probably from a bottle, wait, shoot--it's natural. whatever. stop holding hands. i'm not going to talk to her. she's super skinny, she's probably a jerk. stop holding hands. cute bag, whatever. she's gonna pretend to be nice so i like her, too bad i WON'T. her shoes are cute. skinny, blonde girls with cute shoes are always stuck up. she's probably totally stuck up. she's cute. i wonder where she got those shoes. i don't care. she better not talk to me. stop holding hands." the game started, you and the other sister made polite conversation while i ignored your entire existence. then, you clenched it. i didn't want to sit on the bleachers because people had gotten mud all over my seat and you--you whom i was determined to hate--took your cute, cordouroy bag and wiped the mud off the bleachers so i could sit down. i'm pretty sure that is when i decided i wanted to be your friend. and now--four years, hundreds of tears, thousands of laughs and many adventures later--you are truly one of my dearest and most favorite friends.
you make me laugh so hard. you are one of the most creative people i know (and being a mormon crafter, i know a lot of creative people). you are the most considerate person i know. there is no one i would rather get locked inside my hotel room with, climb on a lodge roof with, ride trains with, play homemade yahtzee with--and no one i would trust more to navigate the rugged, turn-about-ridden terrain of the british isles.
although much has changed since we met, thank you for still being my friend. you are the ultimate. happy birthday dobby, er, malfoy, er, jenny lane!

your friend for, like, ever--
j.

p.s. i would also like to mention the following (for your personal reminiscing enjoyment)--"the pose", platform 9 3/4, shakespearean butt-clench, gelato, "look what the duke drew for me" and of course, strawberry bon bons. love you.

dear porkchop,

2009-12-01T21:17:00.001-08:00

happy six month mark!

you've been in this crazy world for six months now, and i must say, you have endured it like a champ. six whole months! this means that i haven't been happier in all of my twenty*cough*two years than i have been these last six months. i love you so much, so much that there has yet to be units of measurement and/or words great enough to describe that much love. (don't worry, porkchop, i'm working on it).

i love our special days together when i get you all to myself. days off are always good, but days off spent with my porkchop are...precious.
i love that after i hold you i can still smell your sweetness on my clothes.
i love that you make me so happy all i can do is cry.
i love that when i cry, you make me so happy.
i love that when i'm swaying you to sleep, it's the only time i feel like i have rhythm.
i love that when i sing to you, you don't cringe at all the notes i don't hit (which is most of them).
i love that when the chief is in "a mood" a mere picture of you makes him soft like butter and he forgets what he was complaining about.
i love that i can make you laugh.
i love that you look exactly like your old man (whom i considered the cutest baby ever up until six months ago).
i love that you will have a conversation with that silly pink, polka-dot pillow for hours.
i love that when i'm holding you, you randomly smile in your sleep.
i love that even when your so sick, to the point of tears, you still smile.
i love that my arms literally ache to hold you.
i.love.you.

you are the dearest little boy. i am so excited to watch you grow up and become who you are going to be. thank you for letting me be a part of your life. you are the greatest nephew an auntie could have. i love you so much, porkchop. i'll always be your biggest fan.

love,
auntie j.

p.s. i do know that your six month mark is technically tomorrow. i only mention this because i'm pretty sure your other auntie will mention it.

dear thanksgiving,

2009-11-28T23:23:00.000-08:00

sorry if you felt jipped by all the christmas activity that started right after halloween, but i remembered you and i promise to not play christmas music until the last friday of november if you promise to always fall on the last thursday of november. deal? deal.
well, now that we've got that out of the way. i feel that i should give thanks. but where to start? my cup runneth over. probably the best idea is to alphabetically acknowledge some of the things i'm grateful for (otherwise i could go on for days). because what's better than an alphabetically ordered list? (answer: a chocolate-covered alphabetically ordered list, but that is besides the point). let's begin:

A: alphabetically ordered lists (no really. i appreciate them)

B: books. generally speaking, i think they are a good idea.

C: car. with all it's dings and scratches, with all the work that needs (desperately) to be done to it, with gas prices raising daily, i'm very thankful to have a semi-dependable car to get me to work and play.

D: dad. aka 'the chief'. he is my hero.

E: employment. sure i hit 'snooze' four times before actually dragging myself out of bed on monday mornings, and i hate the commute to-and-fro, and i dread wednesday 'surgery days', but at the end of the day i'm so thankful that i have a good job that i enjoy (with people i enjoy).

F: food. (really j? you're gonna admit that on the world wide web?) yup. i love it. (perhaps a little to much...)

G: grandma. oh bardee. she is...the ultimate. deserving a post entirely to herself i'll just say for now, as far as grandmas go--she's the tops!

H: home. not just a house, mind you. pammy and the chief have made our stack of bricks a home. with leaky pipes and drafty windows this is where my heart is. warm, safe, comfortable and full of love.

I: ice cream. i can't eat it, makes me ill. i just appreciate it existing.

J: just the letter itself i'm thankful for. i couldn't sign my name without it.

K: kin. shanna, m.l., the cousins...all my extended family (who are also friends).

L: laki. my sweet, precious porkchop.

M: mom. oh pammy. she is...my best friend.

N: nothing to do and no where to go nights. i savor them.

O: oprah. or more specifically the lack of oprah. i'm thankful she announced the end of her show's run. (though i'd be more grateful if it wasn't 18 months away.)

P: party in the u.s.a. *disclaimer: i do not like miley cyrus* but honestly there have been days at work when i want to punch people in their throats and i'm ornery and tired, and this song comes on. i excuse myself to the back room, and i jam out--i totally nod my head like 'yeah' and move my hips like 'yeah'. it's ridiculous. i'm often ashamed after. but it gets me through the day, so yeah i'm thankful for it.

Q: quilts. because my grandma helped me make my first three and it was great times spent with her. and now, i have lovely crafternoons with my pals and often make them. plus, they're cozy.

R: reading. i'm thankful for the ability.

S: soldiers. as a whole, but also one in particular--cousin j-rad. i'm thankful for how brave he is. and i'm even more grateful that after serving so bravely in afghanistan and other places he wasn't at liberty to tell us about he is safely back in the u.s. of a. and will soon be back home in utah in time for christmas. thank you soldiers.

T: travel. this year in particular has had some great adventures. far away places with strange sounding names. they call to me. and after trips, i'm thankful to travel home.

V: velcro. sometimes you want things to stick, but not forever, but just at certain times. enter velcro.

U: utah. i love our great state. i love feeling protected by our beautiful mountains. i love that we have all four seasons. i love the ridiculous pre-concieved notions/urban legends/call-it-what-you-will about utahns and mormons, they make for a great laugh.

W: water. seriously, i could not live without it.

X: X96? would i say i'm thankful for it? not sure, but i do enjoy it. x is kind of a tough one.

Y: the Y. aka BYU. only because that's where pammy and the chief met, so i kinda wouldn't be here if that hadn't happened. and also because today the Y beat the U 26-23 at football and that made the chief VERY HAPPY, so that makes me thankful (and if you've ever watched football with the chief when his team is losing you know why i say i'm thankful)

Z: zoo. because maybe some animals don't want to live in their natural habitats, we don't know.

that's just the tip of the blessing iceberg. but thanksgiving i hope you enjoyed us as much as we enjoyed you this year. what's that noise? i believe that would be pie calling my name. good night thanksgiving, see ya next year.

gratefully yours,
j.

dear fellow readers,

2009-11-25T18:39:00.000-08:00

do you ever find yourself wandering aimlessly through the library looking for you-just-don't-know-what, picking up random books and reading the back cover just to put it back with a bad taste in your mouth, thinking that this particular library's selection rivals that of chuck-o-rama's salad bar, and is just as stale? then suddenly, when you've neared the point where all hope is lost, you stumble across a book that (judging from it's cover) could get you through a long holiday weekend. so you open to a random page in said book, read a couple paragraphs, and think to yourself 'were i to write a book, this is probably how the words would come out.'? of course there would be different characters, different settings, different plot and of course a different denouement, but the voice of the book (er, the author) speaks to you, like it's one of your dearest facebook friends writing the words. has that ever happened to you, fellow reader?
i only ask because that happened to me yesterday. my best friend is fast becoming my library card. i go to the library by my work during my lunch breaks at least 3 times a week and this exact scenario happened. what's sad, and by 'sad' i mean 'incredible pathetic', is that as i was checking out said book i noticed that i had picked it up out of the children's section of the library. i've tried to tell myself it's okay because it's the 'young adult readers' section, but still...it's pretty pathetic. i've decided to claim a peter pan complex, embrace my inner-child and celebrate the fact that although i'm closer to 30 than to 20 (eek!) a child's book can capture me in such a way. maybe life would be better for more people if they wandered the children's section of the library more....(or the young adult readers section)--hey, it couldn't make it worse.

wishing you good reading,
j.

dear in-n-out burgerers,

2009-11-25T18:33:00.000-08:00

it's just a burger.

seriously?,
j.

dear starbucks venti soy hot chocolate,

2009-11-25T18:16:00.000-08:00

(with extra whip)--
thanks for being there for me today. today...was awful. to the max. work was so much, well, work. dr bob probably thinks i'm bumbling fool after today. i realized at 5:13 p.m. that i still hadn't used the facilities like i had needed to at 9:28 a.m.--i had NO TIME! since i didn't have two lousy minutes to myself to take care of personal business, i of course didn't have time for a lunch break (stupid biopsy results--learn how to log yourself!). my only sustenance all day was a couple of wheat thins and an apple i took to work two weeks ago that had long ago seen better days (2 bites and i decided that there are indeed worse things than starvation). you, sweet hot chocolate, were a mirage that got me through my desert of a day. i kept telling myself, 'self. three more hours and you can blow this joint. no work for 5 glorious days and you can stop at starbucks and enjoy the drive home. you can do it, self! you can do it! for the love of hot chocolate, you can do it!"
10 hours, 16 surgeries, 4 suture removals, and more than 1 look from dr bob saying 'were you this inept when i hired you?' later, i was at that drive-up window and that friendly barista handed you to me and that's when today turned good. you're my favorite. even in the summer months (but usually just on the rainy days). stay classy, starbucks venti soy hot chocolate with extra whip, stay classy.

gratefully yours,
j.

p.s. a special internet high-five to barista, hannah, for making said hot chocolate with 'extra love'. i could totally taste it.

dear sam & lori,

2009-11-21T21:31:00.001-08:00

congratulations!

i'm so happy for you. i love that after 12 years of best-friendship, you're officially best friends for eternity. 'and it's flukes like that that keep us going back to singles' wards!!'

best wishes,
j.

dear kardashians,

2009-11-16T17:52:00.000-08:00

i think i'm done trying to keep up with you. i've lost that lovin' feeling. bible.

regards,
j.

dear google,

2009-11-08T23:00:00.000-08:00

enough with the sesame street theme.
i don't even like sesame street--oh yeah! i went there! i said it!

bugged,
j.

dear sleep,

2009-11-06T23:38:00.000-08:00

i miss you.
it seems our time together has been less and less the past few weeks. it's completely my fault.
hey, remember that time at work when i said i was going to go through charts in the basement, but secretly it was so that you and i could rendezvous? that was a good time.
we really need to catch up.

missing you dearly,
j.

dear world of blogging,

2009-11-05T21:55:00.000-08:00

thank you for allowing me to become one of the many who call themselves 'blogger'. peer pressure? oh how i caved. i feel intimidated and less-than-equal to the task of bloggage, having entered late in the game, but i'm also enthused at this new (to me) venture and have decided to let the latter feelings triumph.
let's make a deal, world of blogging--i promise to check in often, if you promise to be there.

warmest regards,
j.