The more things change the more they stay the same.
…has definitely NEVER had a baby. Quinn turns six months old tomorrow. I can’t believe how little time has passed; it feels like an eternity. There have been some marked changes in my life since he joined us. I felt like these would be best represented in graphs:
If you know me (or follow this blog), you know I love karaoke. We go a few times a year to the Shattuck Down Low on Tuesday nights. It’s pretty much the highlight of my life.
I have tried to win their Valentine’s Day and Halloween Karaoke Contests for years. Awhile ago they started a contest every Tuesday where you could win a $50 bar tab by being
About a week ago I decided I was finally going to perform my favorite karaoke song of all, Pulp’s This is Hardcore.
I had performed it at Jenfest 2007 to much fanfare, but never for an audience of strangers. It’s one of my favorite karaoke songs because I love the song and it’s super long…which means more time with the microphone. #ilovemicrophones
There’s one major reason it’s not ideal: It’s basically about the making of a porno film. I love it for it’s drama and intrigue, but not necessarily the subject matter. Yet, I had decided that I was finally going to throw caution to the wind and sing it…
And then I chickened out, choosing my staple, Talking in Your Sleep by the Romantics, for my first song. It was a truly dissatisfying karaoke experience.
A gin and tonic later, and I was ready. I went for it. My love for the song took over any question that this was an inadvisable song to choose and pure joy overcame me.
No wonder they picked me to win. Though the emcee claimed I won to reward my courage to sing such a naughty song so well. Whatever it was, I sleep soundly now that one of my life goals has been achieved.
Once upon a time Will and I were addicted to coffee. That time may or may not be now.
We were out of ground coffee the other day. We were not, however, out of coffee, just ground coffee. Without a coffee grinder, we stood around the kitchen looking at each other for awhile.
“How about a mortar and pestle?”
Well, we didn’t have one of those.
But what we did have was a muddler — the necessary tool for making Mojitos and Old Fashioneds. A muddler and a plastic cup.
We weren’t sure it would work, but we were desperate.
And you know what? It did. So, boozers, if you’re out of ground coffee and have a muddler around, no need to suffer through caffeine withdrawal. No, all you need a plastic cup and a lot of elbow grease and you’re back in business.
I wrote at one of the many hours of holiday gatherings I enjoy this time of year:
Ode to Pool
Oh how I missed you
Why do I never play you?
Memories of the happy days when I did
Oh shit I’m terrible
Because I never play
We knock balls around for twenty
And get lost in honest talk with a stranger Continue Reading
I have been searching, searching, searching for the right name for this blog.
Historical Sidenote: From 2005 to 2008(?), this blog was hosted on blogger and called “Ought Never Be Daunted,” a reference to a scene in The Sun Also Rises where Jake is not as drunk as Brett is, but Brett urges Jake in those words that it’s not too late to catch up. How awesome is that?
Since I moved those posts over here and gave up all claim to anonymity, I have been calling this site “Jennifer Heller dot com,” knowing full well how lame it was, but at a loss for anything better.
These past few weeks I’ve been giving this site something of a face-life in my spare time, and I kept hoping to come up with a name for the site that would express its mission: Fun, Friends and Hilarity.
We toyed with “Jennifer Heller Fun Friends Hilarity.” But the glaring lack of punctuation was a non-starter.
And then yesterday, Sue pointed out that I am pretty much a megalomaniac. A megalomaniac!! I loved it! I couldn’t spell it but I loved it.
I looked it up, just in case I didn’t really understand what it meant. Which it turned out I didn’t. Merriam-Webster definies megalomania as:
1: a mania for great or grandiose performance
2: a delusional mental disorder that is marked by feelings of personal omnipotence and grandeur
Number two made me LOL. As did my new header graphic, which I’ll record again here in case it changes in the future:
Are there enough Jens in this graphic? Is it creepy??
So what do you think? Is “Jennifer Heller Megalomaniac” not the perfect title for someone who spends her spare time betraying the secrets of her youth and planning extravagant birthday parties? Isn’t any blogger something of a megalomaniac at heart? Does it make you LOL?? And isn’t it really freaking hard to spell???
It seemed like just another day. Got a new bookshelf, had some friends over for dinner. But then, the worst thing ever happened: there wasn’t enough leftover lasagna for everyone.
We all had a decent-sized piece, but not an American-sized piece, if you know what I mean. I made extra salad, but I could tell they were still hungry. Or maybe I was just paranoid.
The decision was made: cookies were in order. I got out everything we needed and made the magic happen. Just when the magic was being perfected, my friend Kat noticed there were little specks dotting the top layer 0f the flour….specks that were–on closer inspection–little winged insects.
Oh but what were we to do?? We baked them. We ate them. I let our friend Adam eat two without even telling him. Does that make me terrible?
And who is to blame for this debacle? I want to blame my Modular Mates Tupperware containers, pictured above in their bug-harboring glory. How could you do this to me Modular Mates? How could you ruin my cookies??*
And after everything I’ve done for you. Touted you on my online Tupperware store. Organized my pantry around you. And now this betrayal.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.
*To be fair, they were also mediocre for a number of other reasons. 1. We didn’t really follow a recipe. 2. I followed the advice of my friends and added an entire package of pudding. That was just crazy.
A case might also be made that it was my fault that the cookies were ruined for not noticing the bugs when I first scooped the flour. But again, there is someone else to blame. And in this case, that someone is booze, who distracted me and inspired me to make the cookies in the first place. Again, not my fault.
The other day after I may or may not have had a cocktail or two, I had a brilliant idea for a blog entry and I wrote it on my hand.
The next morning I discovered that I had inadvertently lost my notes in a fit of handwashing or some such.
Why I didn't just email it to myself as I often do, I have no idea.
I wrecked my brain trying to remember, but no luck. I was bummed because I remembered it being a pretty good blog idea.
Fast forward a couple hours and I’m going through my new photos from my camera and boom:
MY BLOG IDEA RESURFACES!
All of a sudden I remember everything. The excellent idea, finding a pen, scribbling it on my hand. And once done, thinking it was so hilarious that I wrote on my hand like a twelve-year-old that I photographed that very action for a separate blog.
And this is why you visit, is it not? For silly, silly inebriated thoughts captured later with a hint of scorn.