I’m not ashamed to admit it – sometimes grade school humor is just what the doctor ordered, and ever since my friend Natasha introduced me to this clip, it has become part of our everyday conversation.

Me: Hey Nat. Ah don’t know yew!
Nat: Thass mah purse!
Both: [uncontrollable laughter]
Me: Cool. So, drinks tonight?
Nat: Sure. I hope someone tries to steal my purse just so I can say that.
Me: Ohmigod, I would totally crack up.
Both: Thass mah purse!
Both: [stifled laughter, then sigh]

Filed under: General on April 11th, 2007 | 10 Comments »

“Hey Jen, it’s Nat. Farnsworth and I might grab a drink later. Want to join us?”
“Can’t. I’m making cheese tonight.”
“Okay, I’m assuming that’s a euphemism, but I’m not sure I really want to know.”
I then explained that by “making cheese,” I meant that I was, in fact, making cheese. The kind you eat. So I suppose that “making cheese” could be a euphemism. A euphemism for “changing the course of my entire life and finally realizing why I was put on this earth.”
I just never knew. I never knew that a regular urbanite like me could actually create food from other food. I made cheese with nothing more than milk and lemon juice, and that seemingly simple act taught me perhaps the greatest lesson of my entire life: I don’t need anyone anymore.
All my life – or really, ever since I saw the rerun of that PBS special called Frontier House last year– I’ve dreamed of moving away, far from civilization, but the one thing that kept me chained here was the nagging question: “But where will I get my cheese?”
Now I no longer need to wonder.
This is also an “in your face” to all my friends who loved to tease me while playing the cruel game of “If we were all stranded on a deserted island, who would die first?” Dee-Dee and Vivian would always battle over which of them could survive the longest. Dee bragged about all her camping trips as a child. Vivian would flaunt the fact that she could go longer than any of us without a shower. But in the end, no matter what order they ultimately settled on, one thing was always the given – Jenny would die first.
I never went camping as a child, have high maintenance hair, and have major issues with the idea of going to the bathroom outside. But what they always ignored was the fact that Dee-Dee gets squeamish eating meat on a bone, and Vivian’s diet consists almost entirely of hummus and pita. I come from Sicilian stock, and grew up cracking open chicken bones and sucking out the rich marrow. Now that I can make cheese, too, I think it’s clear who would survive. All I need is a cow. Or a goat. Or a sheep. And a lemon tree. Maybe a lighter. And a kettle. And a few yards of cheesecloth. And some Tupperware.
It’s just like the scriptures say: Give a woman some cheese and she’ll eat for a day. Teach a woman to make cheese and she’ll finally be able to stick it to the man, sell off all her worldly possessions, move into a cozy little cave somewhere in the woods, and ultimately spawn her own society of curly-haired savages.
If any of you are interested in joining my new sect – Jenstown – here’s how you can get started:
Step 1: Arrange all the ingredients on your stove in an aesthetically pleasing manner.


Step 2: Slowly heat the milk until it almost comes to a boil.

Step 3: Add lemon juice and stir until the curds separate from the whey.

Step 4: Try to control your gag reflex as you watch the curdled milk rise to the top.

Step 5: Let the curds and whey cool for a few minutes.

Step 6: Strain the curds and whey into the cheesecloth.

Step 7: Gather the curds up into a ball and run under cool water. Squeeze out excess whey.

Step 8: Shape curds into a block.

Step 9: Place a heavy weight on top of the cheese to remove remaining whey. Let sit for a few hours.

Step 10: Remove paneer from the cheesecloth.

Step 11: Discover that paneer has no natural flavor, so put on top of a Triscuit and add salt.

Filed under: General on April 8th, 2007 | 18 Comments »

Dear Internets,
As hard as it to give you my notice, I’m afraid I just can’t do this anymore. This little experiment of ours has ceased to be enjoyable for me. I began this journey for a lot of different personal reasons, but more than anything, because I wanted to challenge myself. And what a challenge this has been, but now it’s time for me to throw in the towel and just say, “I quit.”

(more…)

Filed under: General on April 6th, 2007 | 22 Comments »

A progress report:
Day 1.5:



Day 2:



Day 3:



Day 3.5:



[reward]

Filed under: General on April 4th, 2007 | 15 Comments »

I glanced down at the clock on my computer and realized that my train was leaving in exactly seven minutes. I glanced up at the unread emails that had piled up in my inbox while I was in meetings all day long.
Even if I run, there’s no way I’ll make it. Damn.
I had reached the point in the evening when my train only runs every hour, so I knew I was stuck in the office for a while. Stomach growling, I grabbed some change from my desk drawer and headed over to the kitchen in search of some vending treats.
The first thing that caught my eye was a tasty Twix, my candy bar of choice, but I decided I should get something slightly healthier. My attention was drawn toward the bright packaging of the “30% Less Fat!” Harvest Cheddar Multigrain Sun Chips I always saw the athletic set eating, so I dropped in my $0.65, fully expecting what happened next. The coils spun slowly, my chips nearing the ledge, only to stop short of dropping. I was unfazed since this happens 7 out of 10 times in this machine, but annoyed because I had to walk back to my desk to get another $0.65.
After sliding another few coins into the slot, the second bag started to push out the first one, according to plan, but suddenly stopped short of full release.
Oh, come on!
Usually a good hip check will free a precariously positioned snack, but a few slams later, nothing had budged. I listened for a second to make sure everyone had left the office, then grabbed the top of the machine and tried to rattle it like I’d seen a couple of burly coworkers do before. The machine shifted slightly, but not enough to free my $1.30 dinner from its grasp.
Just as I was about to pull harder, I had a flash of the night janitor finding my body pinned underneath the vending machine, toes slightly curled like that unfortunate easterly witch. Could there be anything more humiliating than to be found crushed under a vending machine at work, all because I couldn’t live without that $0.65 bag of chips? I think not. Except perhaps being found naked and crushed under a vending machine at work, but my company has strict dress code policies, so that scenario was highly unlikely.
I paused for a minute with my head against the plastic of the vending machine. It was slightly warm from the bright lights that had beckoned me near, and as I tapped my head lightly, I contemplated my options.
I should just walk away. I’m not even that hungry anymore. NO! That’s what it wants you to think!
Now this was a game. A game of strategy and patience. Man versus machine. Who could hold out longer? I had a whole wallet full of singles and another 45 minutes before I had to leave for my train. I went back to my desk and grabbed five crisp $1 bills.
As I fed the next dollar into the machine, I suddenly understood why those little women sit in front of the same slot machines in the casinos, hour after hour, no matter how much money they lose.
It’s bound to hit sooner or later. I feel it. It’s time. My time.
I slowly punched in 124 on the keypad, careful not to slip and accidentally buy those rainbow Twizzlers in 126. The metal coil spun steadily and the chips inched further and further toward the edge, but then instead of dropping down, they began to fan upwards, pinned against the shelf above.
Oh you have got to be kidding me! What the hell – are they sewn together!? Bitch, I am not walking away with three bags of chips hanging there!
Another uneventful hip check, one paced lap around the kitchen with my hands on my head to gain my composure, and I was pulling out another dollar to feed my nemesis. I would have paid $20 for those chips at that point, because it had become a matter of principle. Fortunately, I didn’t have to test my mettle because with the fourth dollar, all four bags of Sun Chips exploded against the plastic and slid down to the slot below.
I scooped up the bags of chips in my arms, again praying that no late night colleagues would see me walking through the hall with a bushel of snacks, and returned to my desk.
Now I don’t need to buy snacks all week. Yeah, sucker. Who did you think you were dealing with?
I tossed the three spare bags of chips in my file drawer and ripped open the original one. I admired the unique waffle shape for a second, then popped an entire chip into my now salivating mouth.
Oh. Oh god. These taste like… shit!
I thought that maybe I had just gotten a bad chip, like when you bite into a burnt peanut M&M, so I gave it another shot. But the second tasted even worse than the first, its garlicky gritty debris building up in my molars and under my tongue. I quickly took a swig of water and swished it around to remove all remnants of this $2.60 disaster.
I guess I should have known by the name alone that they would be bad. Harvest Cheddar? I mean, I’m from Wisconsin. We don’t harvest cheese. What does that even mean? Cheese doesn’t grow in fields. It ferments in caves, or… something like that.
Harvest Cheddar. If by Harvest, they meant Pile of, and if by Cheddar, they meant Crap, then yes, this was definitely Harvest Cheddar. I would even go so far as to say that this tasted like a Huge Steaming Harvest Cheddar.
And I was now the proud owner of four bags of it.
I threw the open bag of Sun Chips in my trash and went back to scanning my emails. Eventually I glanced down at the clock on my computer and realized it was time to catch my train. As I cut through the kitchen on my way out, I tossed the three remaining bags of Harvest Cheddar Multigrain Sun Chips on the table.
This time I had lost, but luckily for me, what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen.

Filed under: General on April 3rd, 2007 | 13 Comments »

1. There is no better housecleaning music than Mariah Carey. Sure, it took me 20 minutes to make my bed because I had to keep playing Heartbreaker over and over again, but I’m telling you – that bed would pass any military inspection you could throw my way. If I didn’t need all my quarters for laundry today, you would be able to see that quarter ricochet off my sheets and embed itself in the ceiling. I also considered taping Swiffers to my feet while listening to Fantasy, but that just seemed a bit over the top and maybe a little dangerous.
2. I’ve been telling my cats that in order for them to take first place in the upcoming cat show, they need to get used to letting people hold them like babies. They also need to keep their claws trimmed and stop meowing so loudly and pacing around the house at night. I told them that no Purina Champions on record have ever vomited in their owner’s shoes, so they need to gain better control over their gastrointestinal systems. There is no upcoming cat show, but my cats have a poor concept of time, so I think I can keep putting them off.
3. There’s no use fighting the rhythm. It’s gonna get you no matter what.
4. For the first time in my life, I bought a gallon of milk. Not a half-gallon. Not a Chug. But an entire gallon. I may be from Wisconsin, but milk just isn’t my thing. Maybe it’s because my mother is Sicilian and she always says that Sicilians are lactose intolerant by nature. But how come we eat all that cheese, I ask? That’s… different. Besides, she says, name me one other mammal that drinks milk after infancy. I’m at a loss, and am easily won over by this sound, logical argument.
In spite of that, for some reason I feel compelled to try to drink this entire gallon of milk before it turns. I tried to find a gallon with the furthest out expiration date possible, so I have until April 13th to accomplish this feat. I will be tracking my milk-consumption progress through time-series photographs starting today.

Filed under: General on April 1st, 2007 | 22 Comments »

I bent down to give him a hug and noticed the huge gap in the front of his mouth.
“Hey! What happened to your teeth?”
“That’s my surprise! I told Grandma not to tell you – my two incisors fell out. I got $3 each!”
I told him that now we looked alike, and I pulled out my braces, revealing my missing eyetooth. He had already seen this trick, so wasn’t overly impressed. He asked me to remind him why I needed plastic teeth, and I told him my adult teeth never grew in. But I assured him that his would.
“Aunt Jenny – when we go bowling, don’t forget to put your teeth in, or people will make fun of you.”
“Do I look hideous without my teeth?”
“No. But I just don’t want people to laugh at you.”
“You’re right. I should put them back in.”
I dropped my bag on the floor of my six-year old nephew’s bedroom. He was temporarily displaced for the weekend, but happy to be camped out in a sleeping bag in his older brother’s room.
“I got my room all ready for you. We put new sheets on the bed!”
Pale blue flannel that matched the dark blue bedspread. Tiny cowboys atop bucking horses, with lassoes twirling above their heads. I looked around the room and saw a red bandana hanging from one of the antlers of the deer skull in the corner. I wondered if I would dream of the wild West – of campfires and cowgirls, ranches and wranglers – but I didn’t. Instead, I dreamed of Gollum, his imaged locked firmly in my brain after sitting through several hours of the Lord of the Rings trilogy before realizing that I didn’t care what happened to the ring.
It was my older nephew’s 9th birthday, so his mother planned a bowling party for him and nine of his friends. I volunteered to chaperone and act as official photographer, accepting the intense pressure of being the designated photo-documentarian for a skilled scrapbooker such as my sister-in-law.
“I’m picturing the layout right now – there are ten boys and ten pins. I’ll have them all lined up like bowling pins, so you’ll need to get individual photos of each of them standing straight.”
Within moments of meeting all the boys, I had identified my favorites. There was Nick, the tall one with the soft voice wearing the grey shirt. He’s a nice one. He smiled sweetly and congratulated each of the boys as they stepped off the lane.
“Nice job! High five!”
And Scott. So tiny I could put him in my pocket.
“Should I smile?”
“Yes, you can smile. Just be sure to stand really straight.”
Evan reminded me of Harry Potter, with even finer features. He has perfect enunciation, according to my brother, which makes me like him all the more.
“Open my card first! I picked it out myself – it’s so funny!”
The card wasn’t all that funny – I think it was a pun about being one in a million – but he picked it out himself and his smile was infectious. I didn’t know boys bought each other cards, but they all did. Nick’s was handmade, of course.
That other boy – the one who drooled as he showed no one in particular how he could fit his entire mouth around a plastic cup, the one who hoarded the orange bowling ball even though it was the only one light enough for most of the boys to carry, the one who stole my younger nephew’s most powerful Yu-Gi-Oh! cards – he’s the one I would watch out for. He stands at my brother’s front door, sometimes for 20 minutes straight without ringing the bell. He just stands there, hoping someone will pass by and invite him in.
“Feel how heavy my present is! It only costed $20!”
The one who, like most of these boys, has not yet mastered tact.
My nephew calls him up, “I really hate you for stealing my cards, but I don’t have anyone else to play with, so do you want to come over?”
He says sure.
I watch in awe as the boys devour the birthday cupcakes, wiping orange and blue frosting on their pants and sleeves before continuing the game.
“Aunt Jenny, can you make sure you don’t eat any of the candy in my room?”
“None of it?”
“Well, you can have a Snickers. I have three of them.”
“I’ll try my best, but sometimes I eat candy in my sleep.”
“Even with your plastic teeth? Okay. I’ll put it in a drawer, then.”
As I fluff the cowboy pillow and pull up the cowboy sheets, bathed in the soft glow of the cowboy nightlight, I think how nice it is to have someone to remind me to put my teeth back in.

Filed under: General on March 27th, 2007 | 19 Comments »

When I decided that my theme for 2007 would be “Revival,” I had a lot of things in mind – reviving neglected passions, lost arts, old friendships – but I didn’t think it was going to take a physical turn. But for years now, something’s been bothering me about my appearance – a lot, actually. I thought about getting some work done, researched alternatives, weighed the financial options, put it off some more, but then finally just went for it.
So a couple months ago, at 35 years old, I got braces. Again.
I had braces as a teen, wore my retainers religiously, and then went off to college with a bright, straight smile. A few years later, my wisdom teeth came in and didn’t cause me any problems, so my dentists never recommended having them removed. This was clearly a mistake, because 15 years later, my teeth returned to exactly the same crooked state they were in when I first got braces.
But now in the high-tech 21st century, modern science has changed the world of orthodontics forever, so no longer do I need to suffer with brackets and rubber bands and headgear and wax. Now, there is this amazing invention called “Invisalign” – space-age clear aligners that fit over your teeth, gradually straightening them over time. I love my new aligners so much that I’ve given them an affectionate pet name: down payment on that condo I’ll never be able to afford thanks to my jacked up grill.
Fun Fact #1: I never developed adult eye teeth, which is why my teeth got so messed up as a kid.
Fun Fact #2: I apparently have a great uncle who had two sets of eye teeth. Lucky bastard.
Fun Fact #3: If I were a fighter and not a lover, I would take a crowbar to my childhood orthodontist and dentist for clearly colluding to ensure that they could destroy as many of my good teeth as possible with unnecessary bridgework, when they should have done what my current orthodontist is doing, which is closing the f*ing gaps in the first place.
So while I’m pleased with my decision to get braces again, and happy that I will be able to get rid of some of my bridgework in the process, what it means right now is that whenever I remove the space age aligners to eat, there is a gaping hole where my eyetooth should be.
This has done wonders for my social life, because without the aligners and depending on how much makeup I’m wearing, on any given day I look like:
a) an 8 year old
b) a hockey player
c) a crazy toothless cat lady
Fun Fact #4: Ironically, when I was 8 years old, my first boyfriend was a hockey player, and I lived down the block from a crazy toothless cat lady. I guess this would be what we call the circle of life.
A bit frustrated by the lack of progress, I recently asked my orthodontist how long it would take before the gap would be closed. She told me that the aligners move the teeth ¼ of a millimeter every two weeks. I had to go back to work and consult with our European accounting division to help me figure out what that actually meant in American units of stones and tooth-inches, and they basically told me not to plan on dating for the next 8 to 10 months. I said that wouldn’t be a problem.
So while I’m still enthused about my Revival theme for 2007, and thrilled to finally be taking care of something that’s bothered me for so long, I can only hope that I don’t revive any of my other teenage physical traits, because a flat-chested, acne-faced, crazy toothless cat lady is really more than even I can deal with.

Filed under: General on March 5th, 2007 | 19 Comments »

Brief observation: maybe it has something to do with my passion for infomercials, but I find that I am completely drawn in by advertisements that ask me rhetorical questions.
Confused by the new tax regulations?
Ever wish you had a flatter stomach?
Had enough of the same boring dinners?
Whenever I see ads like this on TV or hear them on the radio, I find myself subconsciously nodding along or responding aloud.
You can say that again!
Who doesn’t?
You’re preaching to the choir, my friend.
The thing is, I never actually buy these products, but it’s just nice to feel like someone gets you, even if it is Ron Popeil.

Filed under: General on February 21st, 2007 | 11 Comments »

Conversations you probably shouldn’t have with your friend who is in her final semester of grad school, getting her MFA in poetry:
So what have you been up to lately? Anything exciting?
Ugh. Nothing. I’ve got to work on my thesis.
Thesis shmesis. Write some poems. Hey, I saw this thing on TV-
Okay, I love how you ask me what’s going on, and I tell you I’m working on a 100 page thesis so that I can complete my master’s degree and that’s your reaction – thesis shmesis.
No, just listen to me. I’m trying to help you. So I saw this thing on TV – quick muse? – have you heard of this?
Of course.
Well, I think it’s to help you write poems or something. There were these two poets – a husband and wife – hey, is it national poetry month or something?
In April. Where did you see this?
PBS. Anyway, there’s like this couple – Mary Jo somebody and Brad Lightsomething-or-other – do you know them?
Actually, yes. Well, not personally, but yes, I know who you’re talking about.
Well, FYI, they’re wackos. Anyway, they both go to this quick muse thing all the time and have contests with each other to write poems in 15 minutes. I guess the website gives you a theme or something. They were like, “Poetry keeps our marriage fresh!” or something like that.
Hmm.
Yeah, well, the theme this day was a poem by William Carlos… what is it – Williams?
Yes.
Anyway – his poem was like blah dee blah roses something something love, so then that was supposed to inspire the two poets’ work. The woman took the whole 15 minutes, but the guy finished his in like 6 minutes.
So they actually had an entire show on poetry? That’s so cool.
Well, so then they read their pieces, and I don’t know – it seems like poetry is basically just talking, isn’t it?
What do you-
I mean, it’s just like having a conversation. But slower.
Well, it is made of language, yes.
No, but I’m just saying, it’s just a bunch of sentences with weird line breaks. Like, I could just talk about anything – waiting for the train, eating some cheese, washing my hair – and if I stressed certain syllables differently, it would totally be a poem.
I cannot believe we’re having this conversation. You do realize I’m working toward my MFA in poetry, don’t you?
What? No, look – all I’m saying is that there sure seems to be a lot of poetry stuff on TV for a non-poetry month. That’s all I’m saying.

Filed under: General on February 19th, 2007 | 12 Comments »