Super Mario World

Will has been playing a lot of Mario lately.  Another development around is that he got a blog, agreed to a domain name and let me customize it! I’ll put a link at the bottom of the post** so that I don’t lose you quite yet.

In other news, the Guster is considering secondary education:

And has been for quite some time.  I told him that school already started and he needs to get there if he’s actually going to go (he’s been threatening it for years), but he keeps claiming mono or other such sleep-related illnesses.

But that’s neither here nor there, and this post is about Super Mario World, and its annual presence in my life. Continue Reading

I’ll be the only one in sixth grade without a phone.

Pool Party!!! It’s finally comin’ together.


Even at the age of 12 planning for my birthday party (not yet titled Jenfest) began months in advance.

I’ve had fun in fifth grade. Now there is only four days left. Only four days!!! Next year I’ll be in an humongous school with 1,000 people. I’ll never find my classes. Continue Reading

Tomorrow I have to find out who won the short story contest. I have great faith in The Famous Feline, but I don’t have much self-confidence.

My first ever get rich quick scheme was Crochet 'R' Us, a store devoted to selling chroceted bookworm bookmarks.  Back then they had little pipe cleaner antennae and googly eyes.  Think I should take it up again?

Tomorrow I have to find out who won the short story contest. I have great faith in The Famous Feline, but I don’t have much self-confidence. Gotta go chrochet.


Obsessed with cats from a young age, The Famous Feline was a story I wrote for a district-wide 5th grade short story writing contest about a talking cat who wants to get into show business (if memory serves…). I have this horrible memory of the teacher reading all the stores aloud so that everyone could vote. I must have been beet red I was so terribly embarassed. It isn’t ever covered in my upcoming diary entries, but mine was one of three stories to be entered into the competition, though I do not believe I won.

Does Steve like me? That is the main subject on my mind.

Does Steve like me? That is the main subject on my mind. If he likes me why won’t he ask me out? Tim doesn’t seem to be afraid to ask girls out. Is Steve nice? I don’t know. I wish I dared tell someone I like him. Kelly seems to be avoiding me lately. She doesn’t go on any walks anymore. I would tell her about Steve.

I’m having day dreams about Steve asking me out. It would be a Friday. I would have just walked into the school yard when Steve would step in front of me and say: “Jennifer can I talk to you? Alone.” Kelly would leave. Steve would then ask me out, nervously, I would consider for a few minutes ask if it was a joke and then say “maybe.” Is Steve considering asking me out? Continue Reading

The hottest boy* I ever went out with

Was this Australian man who never lived in the co-ops but came in and applied while I was working at the front counter. He was the kind of hot where the whole office (all women) stops everything they’re doing to come meet him. That confidence, that flair… He wasn’t uncomfortable, just skilled, as he worked the crowd. When the flurry of women had passed, I was left to help him. He commented on my necklace—the shell of a sea snail I had drilled a hole through. On this particular day I had paired my snail necklace with my black and white feather earrings. I think it worked somehow with my bright pink blazer, though I can’t imagine how.

Regardless, it made an impression on this Australian, the hottest boy to come through that office door since Alexander you-know-his-last-name-and-let’s-not-come-up-in-his-(I’m-sure-many)-stalkers’-google-searches. But he lacked Alexander’s rather…shall we say…blatant egotism, and handled his good looks with pure grace. I could have swooned. I was a good flirter, though, when I had that job, and I utilized those skills that day.

Months later when he came back to retrieve his deposit, he asked if the girl with the crazy jewelry still worked there. I wasn’t in, but Betsy said that I did and gave him my email address.

What followed were a couple dates—dinner at that Chinese place down on University behind the McDonald’s, dinner and a party in the city.

He was fun, we had fun. He was so gorgeous I could take out my most preposterous fur coat and wear it in the city without shame.

For our third date he suggested the Sheryl Crow concert. He had tickets.

We never had a third date. I didn’t really return his calls after a few days.

Yes, I’m an asshole, but we knew that. I was busy and you know had this mountain of reasons (Sheryl?!) and… I remember the last time I talked to him on the phone, g. and I were at the pub having beers and I was supposed to go out with him later and if you’re me and you’re having beers at the pub with g., you just don’t leave and you come back and get your car the next day. I said something like, “oooh my fish tank fell over and I have to mop up six gallons of water! Let’s hang out someday soon.” And never called again.

Yes, I’m an asshole, but we knew that remember? Months later I regretted giving him up so easily and, after seeking Betsy’s guidance, wrote him an email:

Heard a romour that you were seen on Northside of Berkeley today… Is it true? If so, any chance you’d want to get together sometime? The timing’s better for me now.

Hope you’re well,

No response. I rather assumed he had correctly ascertained my nature to be capricious. I rather assumed that he didn’t want to see me again. That maybe there were even some hard feelings there.

Fast forward a couple years, and today I’m walking into the Happiest Place on Earth for my tortilla eggs, and there he is. I knew him immediately. I tried sooo hard to avoid sitting next to him, but the Universe planned it so that the only empty table was the one right next to him, and…

I was getting water when he came up. I hope I looked surprised!! Like I hadn’t already been staring at the back of his head for the fifteen minutes we’d been in line. I hope I didn’t look as hungover and unshowered as I felt, but I think I did. I really hope my face didn’t turn as red as I know it did. It was an agonizing couple of minutes. I just felt soooo bad for never calling.

I rather wish, now that it’s over, that I could have had my druthers and talked to him longer, found out what was really going on. He is the hottest boy* I ever went out with after all.

And he said it was nice to see me.

Which just goes to show me, that even though I’ve spent the last couple years feeling sorry to have been such an asshole, he moved on.


*I like to call them boys because it makes me feel young at heart. This particular gentleman was much more a gentleman than a boy, let’s be clear on that.

P.S. What do you think?

This weekend

Somewhere between two and four dates.

One ex-boyfriend’s marriage announcement.

Another ex-boyfriend’s admission of settling instincts.

The first ex-boyfriend called me a “catch” and followed it with a comment on how sad it is that I’m destined to be without a particular partner.

One date cancelled. One date pretty successful.

That German post doc sure is cute.

Where are these other feelings coming from? Out of the blue.

Much accomplished, otherwise,

But what a hell of a weekend.