Tuesday, January 27, 2009


You've probably heard about all the fires in Coatesville.  At this point, it's got coverage on National news and there's no solution in sight.  

I can always count on my family to get lawmakers motivated.  Mom's the one in this video, wearing a brown hat, outdoors. 

I'm going to go to the Coatesville City Council meeting tomorrow with my fam, if for nothing else,  to take pictures and videos, and watch people get angry.  I'm not a city resident, but my heart is there... despite the nay-sayers (and there are a lot of them), Coatesville was a culture-rich place to grow up. 

Mom is right, this really is a desperate situation.  My dad doesn't sleep at night, I'm sure he's not alone.  The current advice from the city and local law enforcement to residents is to "keep porch lights on", and "get dogs".  Get dogs?  Seriously?  Most of the residents are renters and are not permitted to have pets.  If they were, I'd love to see what PETA would have to say about leaving them outside all night in sub-zero temperatures.  I'm of the opinion of putting bear traps in the back yard.  That is, if you don't have kids or pets.  And make sure you post a notice on your fence that your yard is trapped so you dont get sued later for trying to defend your home. 

On a positive note, I have to give props to the people I've seen on the news, for not being ghetto, and for reppin' the city in a good light.  

It's insanely scary to know that your family is in such danger, for no good reason. 

Stay tuned for pictures from tomorrow's meeting. 

Monday, January 26, 2009

Chances are, you've already read this.

25 Things You Might Not Know About The Joj:

1. During my first month in college, I referred to my best friend by the wrong first name. His real name was Scott, but I called him Drew, because of his screen name. It took him a few weeks to bring it up, as I recall. 

2. I despise mint chocolate chip icecream, but crave it when I'm sick. 

3. I don't want to learn how to play Poker, or drink white wine. I think both are sorely over-fashioned.

4. I name every statue, robot, animal, and toy I own. Sometimes even personifying abnormal things, and naming them too. Like my car, Beastie.

5. Its a rare occasion that I will answer the phone while I'm driving, standing in line, or am in the company of someone else. I think it can be dangerous/inconsiderate. So, in essence, i'll probably only answer when I'm home alone, or when I'm going through the car wash. 

6. 70% of my best friends live more than 100 miles away. 

7. I really like bitterly-flavored things. (Hoppy beers, dark olives, rotten cheeses.)

8. Consuming pecans, walnuts, or high amounts of citric acid (like sour candies) will make the inside of my mouth swell and peel. It's sexy, I do it all the time. 

9. I'm only a sucker for romantic songs which are sung by male vocalists.

10. Sometimes I introduce myself to strangers (whom I never intend to meet again) as "James", and explain how it is indeed a name for girls.

11. If i was in a survival situation, I am pretty sure I'd make it out alive unless it involved snow or water. With snow, I would fall asleep because a freezing death is the least painful. Out of all the ways to go, I don't think I'd mind that so much. Its ironic, I hate the cold. With water, I would be frightened so bad, I would probably die from that - even before the sharks got there.

12. Every time I leave a loved one, or hang up the phone while talking to a loved one, I say "I love you". I thought that was fairly common practice, but I've found that among my peers, it is not. 

13. "I love you" were my first words.

14. I have to tuck my hands into something tight to fall asleep. I usually have to wear something with deep pockets, or cram my hands under my pillow if I'm sleeping on my belly, and twist them up in the sheets. 

15. 90% of my belongings in my home were inherited. 

16. I'm scared to death of the dark, but love sleeping in it. 

17. I adore "The Thong Song", for far too many reasons to list. None of those reasons are what you're imagining. 

18. I usually brush my teeth with hot water, and I let it run the entire time. I'm an environmentally conscious hypocrite.

19. I can offer an herbal or homeopathic remedy for almost any malady or illness without referencing a book or the interwebs.

20. I didn't like over-easy eggs, green olives, or chicken wings until 2008. 

21. I'm uneasy with the thought of receiving an expensive engagement ring one day, because I'll likely lose or break it. 

22. I'd like to explore becoming a Quaker, if I ever get serious about religion.

23. I have an unusual and ill-advised love affair with cotton swabs. Must be paper stem, Q-Tip brand when affordable. 

24. Ultra Fine Sharpies are my premiere writing instrument. I have received Ultra Fine Sharpie multi-packs as a gift every birthday for the last 5+ years. I am surprised and pleased every year. 

25. I am thrilled to not have any female siblings. I love having brothers, more than anything else in the world.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

I Respect Your Privacy

Apparently writing about common things in life runs in my family. I'm sitting at my parents' house, waiting for Beastie to be repaired at the mechanic, and I discover that someone has left my youngest brother's journal out on the table. For a moment, I wondered if I should ask before reading? That notion quickly passed as I realize he wont be home from school until late this afternoon.

Immediately after justifying my snoopery, I snatch up the Spongebob Squarepants notebook, and bury my nose. And I'm sure glad I did, I just found the most amazing entry of my life.

"My Moues", by Jonas

(Close-up of "moues", Jerry)

Here's how the entry goes, verbatim:


This is a picture of my moues Jerry and her husband tom they had five kids all of them were witte.
Then tom died.
Then we got a now one and name him tom like the ather one. He was brown and witte. He was killed by his own son. Then we got one more. Then they had kids they witte black spoted and brown.

I win. My family is awesome.

Friday, January 16, 2009

I am good at so many things.

I'm not really happy with how Tempurpedic makes me feel like a complete asshole for not having one of their mattresses.  I say this as I sit in the low-country of my wounded couch, which I managed to patch with an old coffee can and a pillow, and think its quite supportive.  (And you cant even see the repairs!)

Don't get me wrong, I'd love to own a Tempurpedic, but a bed which costs $6k (frame not included!) is a bit out of my range.  

Every time the commercial comes on, I see the man sitting on a regular bed, whimpering and crouching over in pain. (I feel your pain, half-naked man!)  And then I see the pretty girl's face emerging from water and wonder what that has to do with anything?  Will Tempurpedic also make me want to skinny dip?  If that's the case, sign me up.  I'll be right back, I just have to grab my check book... 



Not.  Anyway, that was a crude into into a random collection of thoughts.  

I haven't really said much to many people, but I had another minor surgery today that was non-foot-related.  I haven't said much, for selfish reasons.  I didn't want to go into it with everyone and hear unsolicited advice.  (Before you say anything... No. I didn't have any socially debatable procedures having to do with unwanted pregnancies.)  It's done now, and I feel like there's a barn animal inside my uterus, and he doth protest with his beaks and claws.  And daggers.  

I'm off work until Thursday due to said procedure, and I'm trying to plan my next trip while I have some downtime.  Suggestions?  I already filed my taxes.  Win!   

While I was going under from the sedative on the operating table today, I apparently made it clear to my doctor that she was not to speak to my mother under any circumstance.  Ha!  I have no recollection of this, nor would I ever say such a thing in my right mind!  Especially to someone who was hovering such a burning hot instrument over such a delicate personal belonging.  Especially because I was banking on the fact that she'd tell my mom everything, because that's why mom had come, because I never remember anything.

I told my mom exactly what orders I'd given the doctor, after I was told that I said it, while we were waiting for me to build up a full bladder in Recovery.   She called me later tonight and said "I know you're worried that I'd think that you're trying to hide things from me.  I'd never think that.  Really.  I was mulling it over, including your reaction, and I know why you said it - you always  like to be your own information filter, and you'd rather take any possible bad news and re-package it for your poor old mother.  I know exactly how you work."

She's totally right.  She knows EXACTLY how I work.  

I actually feel a lot closer to both of my parents lately (especially since my good father accompanied me to the lady-doctor last week and graciously sat amoungst preggos and WCU harlots, in his cute Irish hat which I bought him for Christmas, while I had my pre-surgery appointment), and I'm beginning to realize that they both would do absolutely anything for me with no question, and know me better than I'd ever guess.  It's frightening as hell, but God...  I'm blessed. 

I tried for so many years to hide things, or be the good daughter, the reporter of only the correct news in a pretty and non-offensive package.  Meanwhile they were observing my behavior and knew most of my juicy news anyway.  It's a good thing.  I'm feeling much more comfortable in my own skin these days because of discoveries such as this.

Its amazing what happens when your dad takes you to the gyno, and the following week you get to explain your cervix and all of its personality defects, in great detail, to your mother while she looks on in horror. 

I need a Valentine. 

Saturday, January 10, 2009

God Bless Gender Roles

As I spent a good majority of my first walking-Saturday at home, and was pretty mobile, I started to really appreciate taking care of my nest again. I cleaned, cooked yummy stuff, listened to Bon Iver on loop for about 5 hours, did a ton of laundry and burned a likely 3 pounds of incense.

I also came across a number of the gifts I received during Christmas this year and just had to show a few of them off:

Charity Foundation George has found a home upon my favorite chair.

I've been getting tremendous amounts of use out of m'new camera! Look, I don't even have to use my hands. It's magic.

This? This is a slow-cooker. I've used it 3 times already. By the smell of my house, you'd think I was Polish. NOM NOM pork roasts!
(...Behind it is a Victory growler which is severely underused.)

Malkovich & Divine: No commentary needed.

My newest centerbot.

Kate calls 'em like she sees 'em.

Last but not least, this beaut' was hand-made by my dad. I asked for a necklace holder to organize the massive amounts of jewelery that was mostly unwearable as it was balled up in a box. I honestly envisioned mug hooks in a flat piece of wood. As you can see, Dad does not do the bare minimum.
Look closely, he attached a cameo and a custom beveled mirror. Dang.

There's more, but most of them are practical items, or I took them to work and they're not laying around for me to photograph.

My point is, thank you to everyone. I'm a happy homemaker, when my surroundings make me think of you.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Memories... In the crevice of my boot.


I am de-pinned, de-crutch'd, and booted!  It all happened yesterday and since then, I've been leaping through the air with joy, and demonstrating my mobility.  Derek is mad I cant walk on water with the magic boot, and I've learned that stomping around on empty boxes with my new "iron man leg" is frowned upon in the corporate atmosphere. 

I drew some pictures I wanted to share with you, some of my best memories while being crippled: 

This is Stef, pushing me uphill at the Exton Mall during Christmas Season, after my arms got too tired to wheel myself.  

This is me on Tuesday night, when Kate and I were leaving Kennett Square.  Upon arriving on the 4th floor/roof of the parking garage.  I determined it was nothing but an ice sheet when my crutches went akimbo, followed by a cartoonish struggle to regain control on one leg. 

More cartoons to come, as I think of them.  I have to re-ingratiate myself into my social circles now that I'm mobileish again.  

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Mean Mr. Mustard

I'm been disgustingly sensitive about my temperment lately. I took an online quiz tonight, What Beatles Character Are You?

I always thought I'd be the chick from Norwegian Wood, or maybe even Jude, since Jude is my favorite name. Alas, after 40+ questions, I was presented with the following:

You are: Mean Mr. Mustard

You scored 32 shyness, 36 bitterness, 40 moral, and 43 eccentric!

You are Mean Mr. Mustard, from Abbey Road! You're perpetually grumpy, and probably don't give a crap about what others think of you. Your friends probably adore your crustiness as mere eccentricity, but you tend to put people off. "Takes him out to look at the queen Only place that he's ever been Always shouts out something obscene Such a dirty old man"

Wow. But yeah, I guess it's true. Especially the Dirty Old Man part.

I had lunch with my Momma and my Broski at Applebees today before they carted me to the grocery, and I abruptly asked my mom: "Hey, do you think I'm negative?"

I had been crafting the question since last night, but it came out with such ferver that it was perfect and I'm glad I placed it candidly.

She replied with the most perfect stream of conciousness ever:

"Negative? Like, how? Like, down in general, or like a realist? No... wait. You're always really upbeat. But you don't take shit from anyone, you call a spade a spade. And that doesn't make you negative. That makes you strong and reliable. Oh, and you don't tolerate people who can't handle the truth. I think that's why people like you."

Mom. Wow. I love you - seriously. You just negated the stupid online Beatles quiz, and got quoted on my blog for making me feel awesome. <3>

Friday, January 2, 2009

t=c(5) =:(

My Sentiments Exactly

Today marks five full weeks of being a cripple. I know that my friends are tired of giving me special treatment, and I am tired of it too. I'm pretty sure the vein of resentment is beginning to flow rich with frothy spite.
I have no desire to do anything fun. I've grounded myself for the weekend so that I can save money and hopefully clean a bunch. (Note: It takes 10x as long to complete a task, when you have the use of one leg!)

Today also marks a completely worthless day of my life. The office is dead, and I'm again using my lunchbreak to blog-droll all of my drivel because I'm bored with catching up on work that no one appreciates, and I've already eaten my delightful Kashi Coconut Chicken & Lemongrass. (Nom!)

New Years Eve was fun, me and my cronies spent 16 hours in a cabin in the woods, and it was quite nice. I got lots o'pictures and videos - many of which I can not post. You can check out the passable ones a la Facebook. Here's a taste:

I got home around 11a yesterday and promptly fell asleep. I woke up around 7p, and started in on a marathon of Myth Busters, followed by another of The Cosby Show.
The Cosby Show has always helped me by boosting personal positivity, simultaneously making me question my self-worth. For example:

Me: Bill Cosby (nee: William Henry Cosby) dropped out of high school in the 10th grade?
My Brain: At least I graduated high school and went on to college.

Me: Yeah, but now he's a doctor and his wife is a lawyer and they're loaded living in Manhattan in a huge house.
My Brain: Dude, that's the show. Bill had to shine shoes and deliver groceries to make money before he finally got his diploma and then got an athletic scholarship to Temple.

Me: True. Its hard to remember that because the show is called "The Cosby Show", and its actually about the Huxtable family. Separating fact from fiction becomes a challenge when there's such parallels. Its like the DaVinci code, almost. Hillman=Temple? Why is Theo incapable of walking normally? He hops/jumps everywhere, and always has his mouth open. Is that supposed to encourage African Americans with A.D.D. to live normal lives?
My Brain: William Henry Cosby isn't even an American citizen. Did you know that? He lives in England. He's technically not even an African American. So much for being positive and encouraging.

This blog post was supposed to be cathartic, but I feel a bit more gloomy than when I started. And my allotted lunch-blog time is about to be over.
In all seriousness, I have high hopes for 2009. At least I didn't resolve to address more medical issues in this upcoming year. I just have to save money and lose weight. No bigs, right?