Blast from the Past

Love when you find old pictures from the days of yore, especially ones from FILM CAMERAS (remember those?!): Check me and my two friends (from L-R) Callie and Brittany my first few weeks of college. GOOD. TIMES. The best.

Endangered Spieces

What do I love? FROZEN YOGURT. Or as us expert yogurt eaters like to call it "Fro Yo." What does the city of Boise SEVERELY lack? FROZEN YOGURT STORES: Namely: TCBY. Now, as an environmentalist, I must alert the world that not only are the polar bears losing their icebergs, but I am losing my frozen yogurt: Let's get this to the top of the endangered species list ASAP. About three years ago I believe I counted seven TCBY locations in the local tri-suburbia area (Eagle, Meridian and the city of Boise) which was more than an adequate amount to satiate my thirst for this delectable dish. This number has since been severely depleted. As I have been home, I have driven past many of the old locations only to find them completely vacated. This a source of great distress, as my friend and I were TCBY frequenters...so apparently we were keeping these places in business. I wasn't SO distressed about it, as last year when I was home I had discovered a local fro yo business different from TCBY (and yes, I felt like I was cheating on TCBY)...only to drive by and see that IT TOO HAD CLOSED. Here's my issue: WHY are these places going out of business?! Frozen yogurt is 1) absolutely incredibly without a doubt DELICIOUS. You can put any topping of your choice on it! It is soft! Creamy! Delectable! It's not like they're trying to force something disgusting, like pickles and chocolate down your gullet (although pregnant women might flock to a store like that, so perhaps it would stay in business). But there is no logical, sane reason that a store that serves such a delightful specimen of a dessert would not get some serious cash flow. 2) It's extremely healthy! There are live active cultures that are good for your digestive tract--you get your dairy in for the day--and for all of us sitting around and complaining about the obesity of America we aren't doing such a great job of keeping the issue at bay if we keep shutting down the TCBY's. This isn't just a local problem Boise: This is a NATIONAL travesty of monumental importance. Our children will suffer! Great scott. I'm going to have to get my fro yo from the local Maverick. It's all downhill from here, folks.

Sometimes I Wonder...

Today I was wondering. I was reflecting on my year and sometimes you have to wonder what sort of impact you're having on anyone. I mean, am I teaching anyone anything? Moving them to be better? Inspiring them in some way? I'm not really sure, and I do suppose these are things that every human being wonders at some point. I'm more and more convinced that as human beings we have to know that we are making a difference or impact in the world in some way--I think it's in our nature, our core. I want to be that sort of person, and sometimes you have to wonder if you are...but I guess it's really hard to quantify, and you may never know the sort of impact you had on someone. Just because someone doesn't recognize it or articulate it, does that mean that you didn't teach them anything? I'd say this is my goal in life, I mean impacting people, although I'm not sure how to go about this most days, or if I'm any good at it. How does one impact people...that's the question. What do I even have to teach anyone? I'm not quite sure. But then sometimes I wonder if maybe it's not really even about me. Maybe it's really about what I have to learn from someone else. Maybe I've become so inward focus about what message it is that I need to communicate, that maybe I've forgotten to stop and listen...

Singles Shower!

A lot of my friends are getting married/already married, which is super awesome for them, and I enjoy participating in all the festivities as well. I like a good party. And dancing. Lots and lots of bustin' a move. I'm the maid of honor in a wedding this year and it has been a delight. However, there is one thing that seems grossly unfair: the showering of gifts. It's like Christmas times eight. I mean heaps! "Loads" as the English would say! Now, as a single person, scratch that, as a person, I greatly enjoy the receiving of gifts, and lots of them. However, at this current stage in my life, my marital status deters me from receiving gross amounts of presents. Could this be discrimination of another kind??? Thus, I have devised a new cultural revolution that I think should take place. Hear me out: the purpose of giving a couple gifts is so that they can have the necessary items to begin their life together. It is also tradition to give the bride boo-cou lingerie for a bachelorette party. However, these are things that are necessary for singles as well. Single people need things in their home, kitchen, what have you, just as much as the next wedded woman and man, and, it's always nice to have new undergarments just for the hey-haw of it even if no one is seeing them--in fact, as a single person, I believe that since I am alone, wouldn't it make more sense that I would want to look good? I'm just saying. Thus, in an aim for equality for all, I propose that each and every person should get some sort of showering of gifts once in his/her lifetime. You could use this up when you're single, or perhaps if you arrive at a certain age and are still single you would get a Singles Shower, and if you get married afterwards no presents for you. So, for example, if the magic age was 35, my friends and family would be like, "Jess is 35 and single! This means one thing: PARTY!" This would put a lot more of a positive spin on things and maybe we would get away from that "single people must be so lonely and depressed" stereotype. I mean, what if you've decided that PERHAPS marriage isn't your deal--you're giving up lots, and lots of presents, which is a huge unfortunate travesty. Some Christians would even say that God has ordained certain people to be single, and if that's my lot in life so be it--but why should I be punished with no loot? And, if we're celebrating a couple's decision to wed, should we not as much celebrate someone's decision to remain single? Is love not a reward in and of itself?! The tax breaks alone are a gift! Not to mention--married people now have two incomes to pool, thus they can potentially buy more stuff. I'm single--I've got to work twice as hard for that new Kitchen Aid. And if you're celibate, frick, that deserves a showering of gifts in and of itself. I say, you deserve a PARADE. I'm not saying I'm lonely or sad or whining that I'm single by any means, I just want some presents. And maybe a party in my honor. A new china set. A new bed sham. A new crock pot. Perhaps a new deluxe toaster or coffee/espresso maker. And gift cards that abound! All I am saying is that perhaps we need to evaluate the current system that is set up. Peace, liberty, justice and presents for all!!! That's the American way!

Oh, brother

I thoroughly enjoy my brother. As in he is probably one of my favorite people. Given that we both tend to be a bit esoteric (incorporating my GRE words!) I enjoy him all the more. We both became feminists at the same time, and whenever we are together we often will discuss the problem with The Man, capitalism, or some other social problem as Matt has one of the best sociological imaginations ever--fun times! Matt always has interesting things going on as he is an activist and he lives in Portland, both things of when combined will lead to very interesting stories. My favorite thing is to tell people that my brother is a bike riding feminist vegetarian Women's Studies major from Portland, OR because they often do not know what to do with this information, because he is very a-typical for what a "stereotypical" or "generic" white guy "should" be (this is a long explanation and I am thinking of a particular passage in a Michael Kimmel book, but I shan't elaborate), which makes me enjoy him all the more. Oh. And my brother is hilarious and probably one of the most witty people you will ever meet (in my humble opinion).

Matt and I were discussing gender as usual given that this is a high area of interest to us both, and one of my favorite facts to share with people is the *shocking* fact that colors for boys and girls are SOCIALIZED (we teach kids to identify with these colors)...as in--gasp--boys don't like blue coming out of the womb and girls don't "naturally" like pink. It's true. In fact, in many cultures, men wear pink, and only in America do you find men so reviled by pink (and, I don't think it's that horrendous of a color...it's just light red, geez). It also irritates me to no end because girls can wear blue but if boys wear pink they're like, "totally gay," or something--it's only because it's considered "feminine," which is insulting to girls and women (and gay people!), frankly. BAH. But I digress. If I remember correctly from my Intro to Sociology class, we actually used to dress little boys in pink up until the war where we were fighting the communists (or "pinkos"), and you cannot send troops over who are wearing pink to fight the pinko commies--hence let's put girls in pink and boys in the opposite color-blue (though technically on the color wheel the opposite would be green I suppose--Christmas all year round!). I love telling people this, because they usually don't know what to do. Their world caves in a little bit, which is always fun for me. Anyways, Matt and I were chatting online the other day. Matt works at the Mac store and at the end of our conversation he said, "Well, I need to go to bed so I can wake up and serve a capitalist system tomorrow. 'Which i phone case should I buy?'" he said, mocking Generic Customer. "Oooh just for funsies you should suggest pink i phone cases to the men just to see what they do," I suggested. Being a person who understands things like socialization, and given that he's a bit sassy, Matt went on to tell me that he did indeed do this already. "What do they do?!" I asked, knowing the answer already because sociologists can predict these things, you know (it's really fun). "Oh they either get really uncomfortable, defensive, stop talking to me, or say 'uhhh aren't those for girls??' to which I respond 'Hmmm it doesn't say that on the box...'" This was absolutely hilarious (and absolutely ridiculous) to me from a sociological standpoint on so many levels. Oh the constraints of masculinity, how they are just SO fascinating!!! Minds are so fun to play with.

This is my brother. He is neat.

Grandpa at the Car Wash

I'm not quite sure what it is about me that attracts disfunctionality and old men. I'm fairly average in regards to height, build, and hair color so I'm not sure what it is about me that screams that I potentially am interested in men over 40, as the thought of it makes me quite ill. Today my mother asked me to take the car to the car wash, and I obliged, as I recognize that she does things for me on a regular basis. So, I went to the car wash and was greeted by a little old man who slightly resembled Colonel Sanders of KFC fame. As I was gearing up to go through the automatic car wash, he said, "Miss, I'm a great grandfather, so if you don't mind me saying, and I don't know if you hear this enough, but gosh you just look marvelous." As I went through the car wash, I thought to myself, awww what a kind old man to say that--so sweet. When I was finished with my car wash, I walked around the building to tip him. "Say" he said to me, "Are you married? You have got to be married." "Erm, no--uhh could I have a token for the vacuum please?" Now, one thing you should know about me is that I am a terrible liar and hate lying to people, even if they're super skeezy. My face is always a dead give away that I am not telling the truth. Combined with my general naivety, this can prove to be disastrous. "For you, you can have anything you want," he said as he handed me two tokens instead of the usual one. EW. Glad for a bonus, but EW. "Well you have to have a main squeeze, right?" The fact that you just used the phrase "main squeeze" indicates to me that you have got be well past 60. It was beginning to become apparent to me that cute little grandpa was definitely hitting on me considering his inquisitiveness in regards to my relationship status, and if there is one thing I have zero tolerance for, it is when the elderly go for young women--I do not now nor have I ever needed a "Sugar Daddy" and I do not need your senior citizens discount, I am very effectively providing for myself--have some dignity man! LIE Jess, LIE. "YES. I totally do," I replied, praying that he wouldn't inquire about my fake boyfriend, because I was not fully confident in my ability to make up details. "Of course you would. How old are you?" At this point he was a little too far into my personal space "Erm, uh, 24." "See, you're not too old for anything." OHHH SICK. CAUTION: BACK AWAY FROM LITTLE OLD MAN. ABORT MISSION. And with that I high tailed it back to my car and drove off the lot with Grandpa saluting me on the way out, shuttering as to what just happened, and wondering why my apparent charm did not seem to be rubbing off on men my own age. This may be a mystery that I will never figure out, and I do not ever care to so long as I never have to experience something as uncomfortable as that again.

Lemon Cream Cupcakes

Today my neighbors invited my parents and I over for a BBQ. I immediately volunteered to make dessert, as this would 1) help me to evade studying for the GRE for which I did atrociously on the verbal practice test and was becoming increasingly frustrated, thus would provide me the opportunity to succeed at something and 2) I'll use any excuse to bake!!! If you like t-a-s-t-e-y (and yes, I spelled it like Fergie does in "Fergalicious") then you should try this GEM of a recipe. I'm not normally a lemon person, but the cake only has a hint o' lemon and the icing is dee-lish and adds a little interest. I added coconut and a strawberry because well, I like both those things. I would also recommend listening to an 80's mix while you make them, as I did--not because it has any relevance, but simply because the 80's really turned out some good tunes. Oh, and beware: the grated lemon peel can be a bit of a b**** to get 2 tsps. I eventually gave up as I tend to get a bit impatient, threw in about 1 tsp and then just squeezed some juice in.

Lemon Cream Cupcakes

Ingredients

• 1 cup butter, softened
• 2 cups sugar
• 3 eggs
• 2 teaspoons grated lemon peel
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 3-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups (16 ounces) sour cream
• 
  FROSTING:
• 3 tablespoons butter, softened
• 2-1/4 cups confectioners' sugar
• 2 tablespoons lemon juice
• 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/4 teaspoon grated lemon peel
• 1 to 2 tablespoons milk

Directions

• In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in lemon peel and vanilla. Combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt; add to creamed mixture alternately with sour cream, beating well after each addition (batter will be thick).
• Fill greased or paper-lined muffin cups with 1/4 cup of batter. Bake at 350° for 25-30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes before removing from pans to wire racks to cool completely.
• For frosting, cream butter and confectioners' sugar in a small bowl until light and fluffy. Add the lemon juice, vanilla, lemon peel and milk; beat until smooth. Frost cupcakes. Yield: about 2-1/2 dozen.

Things I Learned Today

As a potential future academic, I have taken it upon myself to make sure that my knowledge is always up to date. They say "An apple a day will keep the doctor away," and I say "A fact a day will keep stupidity at bay." These are a few things I learned today (well, and yesterday):

1. 7-year-olds do not enjoy it if you repeatedly school them at Rock Band and "Cars" on Playstation. On the other hand, paradoxically they will worship you and think you are the coolest kid on the block.

2. "Jingoism" is my new favorite word. It's not that the definition is cool (belligerent support of one's country), it just is a funny word. I think this might have to do with the fact that it marginally sounds like the word "bajingo" which is also a funny word (and yes, I'm embracing my immaturity right now). I also like "Erudite" as it means "scholarly and bookish." Note to readers, I may be using a large variety of vocabulary words in order to practice for the GRE. This is not to be bombastic or turgid, but merely to refine my skills.

3. You should not try and ride a bike in a skirt, however long, and no matter how much of an effort you are making to look summer-y and cute. I was envisioning that scene from "500 Days of Summer" where Summer is riding her cute little bike in her little summer dress. The vision may also have included me eating a push pop. However, this was more of the reality of the situation:

Although, not with the same sexual prowess as Marilyn Monroe, but you get the picture. Didn't exactly fit in with the family friendly neighborhood that I currently reside in.

4. Both my Women's Multi Vitamin and my Hair, Skin and Nails vitamins go down much easier with raspberry iced tea. I especially appreciate the raspberry iced tea when it comes to the Hair, Skin and Nails vitamin because it tends to taste like beef. My acne pill, however goes down TERRIBLY with this beverage. Painful learning moment.

5. I make a damn good sugar cookie. Actually, I knew this about myself...but look at it! I mean really, I make a REALLY good cookie--national taste tests prove that 4 out of 5 people who eat prefer them. And they're like Lays--once you start you can't stop (or is that Pringles? I don't remember, but it's someone's motto). These suckers just melt in your mouth and they're soft and moist and MMM! It's like they're laced with some form of illegal drug because they're that addictive. But they're not. Just butter. I'm also REALLY humble about my baking skills, but I don't even feel bad because I don't feel like I oft brag a lot, so I'm over it. But not over my cookies.

Go on. You know you want one.

Why I Hate Planes

My last few stints flying across the country seem to have been a string of unfortunate events. Now, if you will recall from the previous blog post "My Phobia," I am already averse to flying, and tend to hyperventilate and think that I will be meeting Jesus every time I fly. Now, I imagine I've had such a heinous flying experience the last few times I've flown because with such an extensive time both in the air and in airports, this would naturally increase my probability for things going wrong.

Consider my flight today:

I arrived at the airport packed and ready to go for a much needed two month vacation. I thought I'd done pretty well, and had tried to err more on the conservative side as the skeezy airlines had started charging mega bucks for bags. I will not bow to your airline robbery!!! I was already in a foul mood as Grandma had graciously tried to take me to a local cupcake shop earlier that morning and they were closed. LAME. It's just a muffin with icing! Who doesn't have cupcakes ready to go at 10 AM? I had managed to fit everything in one bag, a carry-on, and my purse AND had managed to fit in a hefty summer shoe selection--score Jess! So I arrived at the counter ready to check in...and my bag was 62 pounds. No wonder that thing was so hard to lift. I've never been over 50 pounds, and my carry on was already fairly full. "How much is it to go over the 50 pound limit?" "50 dollars." FIFTY DOLLARS?! I am but a poor new working professional--that's some serious cash! Think of things you can buy for 50 dollars! A new dress (and a NICE new dress at that)! 3 new books! 5 months of Netflicks! Like twenty ice cream cones or cups of coffee! NO. So, there I was, off to the side deciding what beautiful pair of shoes I might have to throw away if it came down to it, and having the entire Continental flight team saying, "The jeans! Take out the jeans! They're the heaviest!" I finally managed to cram 12 pounds worth of stuff into what was a very limited space, and had to commit the environmental sin of throwing away an entire can of hairspray--but at the rates they were charging I could have purchased approximately 16.67 bottles of hairspray--it had to be done. There I was, running through security, and...I get stopped. My bag gets checked for the FIRST TIME EVER. And mind you my bag is stuffed with two pairs of pumps, some jean shorts, my reuseable coffee cup...it's PACKED. Can we say "inconvenient." "Ma'am, do you have a small pocket knife?" "No, I have not now, nor have I ever been a Boy Scout, I do not carry knives"--just kidding, but TSA did definitely paroose my bag, but after finding nothing against federal regulations I was allowed to depart and left to shove half my wardrobe back in my purse.

My flight to Minneapolis went off without a hitch--but oh, did I mention this was going to be a TWELVE HOUR day? Sick. I was proud of myself, as I did not let my mind wander too far, and only contemplated what it would be like if the plane crashed about three or four times, and had no panic attacks. This was especially significant as I was in a much smaller aircraft this time, and usually leave drenched in sweat due to the stress because you feel all the bumps and what not in those things. I arrived at Minneapolis and walked to my gate for my next flight to San Fran...only to discover that my flight had been horribly delayed. This is when things really started to go downhill. I like to sit in airports and watch people, and, I'll be honest, see what sort of attractive gentlemen might be around. However, I reminded myself that I was going to San Francisco and this might not be the best venue for straight man hunting. This was unfortunate as I had approximately four hours to kill until my plane left. Now, I love the gays as much as the next gal (holla back Rob!), and will wave that rainbow flag until Lady Gaga comes home, but I've been looking to diversify my friend group a little bit: namely with attractive intelligent and preferably single straight male friends as this seems to be the demographic that I am most lacking in...and I wasn't anticipating that San Francisco would be a good place to begin my search. However, upon my arrival on the plane, I was proved wrong. Hello Attractive Guy sitting next to me. Now, another thing you should know is that this year in particular I have had a higher then normal occurrence of attractive young men who have happened to sit next to me on airplanes. Unfortunately I am usually a) too shy to speak to them or b) I work up the nerve and they have a girlfriend. For a good bulk of the flight "a" was the issue, and I didn't really feel like talking to him as there was a good chance he was not from the local Hartford area and I like to keep my men local--it's just easier that way. I was also very, very uncomfortable. You see, I had decided that I was not going to be an American that fell prey to too little fiber in their diet, and I had eaten three Fiber One bars and by hour four of my trip it had started to catch up with me. Oh shit, I thought to myself. Ha ha ha. No! Now is not the time for a pun! This is serious! Thank goodness you did not consume your typical cup of coffee today! This would not have boded well for my fellow passengers. I was glad that I was having these thoughts instead of my typical "ohmygosh...the...plane...is... making...a...weird...sound...arewecrashing??? DearJesusidonotwanttodietoday!!!!" Anyways, the very last few minutes we were descending I thought to myself "Carpe diem!" and I had remembered how my friend Cassady had given me a pep talk about breaking the ice with guys earlier that week. "So, uh, do you have a connecting flight as well?" I said to Greg. His name wasn't actually Greg, and I never found out what his real name was, but he looked like he could be a Greg. This was an awesome ice breaker as we were already one and a half hours late and I was going to be extremely close to missing my flight to Boise. "Yeah...mine leaves at eight." Oh my gosh, maybe he's going to Boise--summer love connection here I come!

"Mine too! Where are you going?"

"Portland." Ooooh, no dice. Blast.

"Portland? My brother and one of my best friends live there! Coolio! I love that city."

"Yeah, I'm visiting some friends. Where are you going?"

"Boise. My family lives there. So, uh, what do you do?" I am so cool right now. Look at me keeping up the conversation. You have really nice white teeth. I like good hygiene in a man.

"I do EMT stuff and I travel everywhere. I just came from Wyoming and I'll be in Vermont 'til December."Hmmm. Vermont is only four hours away. And that's where they make Ben and Jerry's. SCORE.

"Oh that's really cool. You can totally visit the Ben and Jerry's factory there...I hear it's cool."

"Yeah...so did you say your boyfriend lives in Boise?" Yes! Classic line--totally trying to find out if I'm single! I see right through you Greg! I am SO in...play it cool...

"Uh, no, my family lives in Boise." Emphasis on "family--" implying NO boyfriend. Free as can be. Bat the eyes. BAT THE EYES.

"Cool." NO. WRONG ANSWER. Hmmm, perhaps I should have been more obvious or should have followed up with a "Nope, just the fam. No boyfriend, you could say I'm 'single and ready to mingle.'" Hmmm. I don't want to seem desperate. Look at my leopard print wedges!! Don't they scream, "I have a fun wild side!?" Ra-owww!

After some small talk about how we were nervous we both weren't going to make our connecting flights Greg left with a "Whelp, see ya." Alright Greg, you win this one. I'll let it slide. But if I turned on the charm you'd be done. And thus, I chalked Greg up to yet another very nice interesting and attractive man that I met on the plane and alas, nothing happened.

I didn't have much time to think about Greg, as I had to get moving to my connection. I figured my gate would be fairly close to the one that we'd arrived at, as both my flights were United. Wrong. I entered at Gate 89 and had to go to Gate SIXTY NINE. IN ANOTHER TERMINAL. Now, I've been wanting to get in shape, but this is not what I had in mind, especially since I had two twenty five pound carry-ons due to the fiasco earlier that morning AND was wearing the useless leopard print wedges that had gotten me absolutely NOWHERE with the men. So, there I was running through the San Francisco airport, and it was really fortunate I was well hydrated as I arrived huffing and puffing and sweating profusely basically as they were shutting the doors to my plane. Thank. Goodness. I even received my bag in Boise, which was a shocker. I guess it all could have been worse...I could have had some mother f***ing snakes on my mother f***ing plane or something.

Cape My Cod!

A few of my girlfriends came this past week for a wee East Coast adventure. And by "wee" I mean "massive." We did Cape Cod, Boston and NYC in FOUR DAYS. I wonder how many miles we clocked, and it's times like these where a pedometer would have been most handy and dare I say necessary. You can call me Jess "Thunder Thighs" Miller after this week. Anyways, it was a great few days, and I am constantly reminded of how very thankful I am for these women in my life. These are the friendships that are going to last my entire life...I'm sure of it. We had so many good laughs, saw many sights, and shared some great conversations. Here are my top memories of the trip (in no particular order).

1. Cape Cod=super awesome resort

2. My freaking awesome Clam Chowder/salad at some restaurant I don't remember the name of

3. Feeding bald chickens and discovering my new phobia (see below post--not particularly a favorite memory, but definitely a memory)

4. Drinking Cape Cods with Holly and B at the resort

5. Walking along the beach

6. Brittany's birthday breakfast and the funny waiter we had

7. Really bad customer service at Modern Pastry and Cassady picketing people and deterring them from entering said store (she's so socially active)

8. Eating MANY rainbow cookies...my new found favorite treat

9. Eating brunch with B at Bolo's

10. The cool/attractive staff at Nebo's restaurant

11. Spilling my pizza on the table at Nebo's

12. Dancing at one of the first pubs in Boston

13. Freedom Trail!!!

14. Squeezing into my tiny-ass apartment

15. Seeing Harvard and pretending that I'm abnormally smart

16. Seeing South Pacific (not my favorite Broadway show I've seen, but still cool)

17. Tisane's Caprese Flatbread with Cass and Britt and the repeat with Cass and Holly

18. Walking around the Rose Garden with Britt and then with Cass and Holly

19. Brittany trying to do a jumping picture

20. The fact that the dates got so messed up and even though everyone thought they were n sync they were actually WAY off on BOTH ends of the trip

21. "My mom says you should never show anyone your trunk" --Brittany Petaja

22. Squeezies!

23. Holly talking about Pipey her cat

24. GOOD FOOD.

25. Reminiscing about college

26. Stocking up on stolen toilet paper from the hotels

27. Quoting "Friends" with Cass/watching "Friends" with Holly and Cass

28. Accidentally stealing some food from the continental breakfast at the Crowne Plaza...turns out "continental" doesn't mean "free"...oops.

29. Exposing the girls to Dunkin' Donuts.

30. Using Cassady's handicap pass to score some killer parking lots (and yes, I do feel bad for the actual handicapped people who had to walk...but it's the one time in my life that I will be privileged in that area...so...!!! *knock on wood)

31. Much much much laughter

32. And I cannot forget when Cassady challenged me to walk into the pub in Boston and scream "Come and get me gentlemen"...and yes I did it (although the music was loud and I don't know if people heard me...but I still did it).

P.S. PERSONAL GOAL NEXT YEAR: SEE WICKED AND NORA EPHRON'S NEW PLAY.

Times Square

My Phobia

OK, so you know how people sometimes have weird phobias? I know someone who is afraid of clowns and mascots, there's your typical fear of spiders or snakes, I even knew a person afraid of balloons. Perhaps my biggest fear was/is riding on airplanes, but I usually just hyperventilate my way through any flight I'm on. I never thought I had a really odd phobia until my girlfriends came to visit me this past weekend. There we were at Cape Cod, and we were strolling through town and landed upon a little store surrounded by...chickens. There they were, running through this rustic little yard, so I bought my friend a little cup of chicken feed because she was really excited about the farm animals. Now, birds kind of freak me out in general, I don't know if it's their eyeballs, or the pecking, but I tend to stay away from foul. So, I handed Brittany her little cup of chicken feed, and the birds started flocking to the food (I mean FLOCKING). And then I saw it. Their backs. Were bald. And I seriously have not been so grossed out in my life. Writing about it right now is causing me to have flashbacks and the gag reflex might be starting up. I would post a picture, but this would mean I would have to see the chickens. It turned out (as we were chatting with the local farmer who raised these disgusting creatures) that when the roosters "get really intimate" with the hens, they rip the feathers off their back because they have spurs on their legs. That night I couldn't even sleep because of the flashbacks to their bare, puckered skin. I began to process what was so difficult about this particular image for me, and I realized my phobia: Things that are bald that shouldn't be. I remembered back to various images in my life where some animal or something had little bald spots on it and it really grosses me out. Like really. If I wasn't already a vegetarian, I would have become one on that day. I'm not sure if it's the smoothness and the surrounding of hair, but please, if you suddenly find an animal with a shaved back or something don't show it to me, because you will see a very, very different side of Jess Miller.

Insomnia

Right now I am up late because I've slept in super late the last three days, therefore am very untired, and I have a minor cold (scratchy throat and cough) on top of the fact that I'm super pumped because my girlfriends are coming tomorrow and I never sleep whenever I'm going to see someone I love the next day--it's just a rule. So here I am, eating a push pop, listening to old skool Janet Jackson and looking at the "Missed Connections" ads on craigslist per my friend Laura's suggestion on her facebook status. Life ain't so bad.

Dear Eve Ensler, I think I Love You

I'm reading this book per a suggestion of a friend:

One word: AWESOME. And I think I may be adding Ms. Ensler to my list of Women I am Huge Fans Of and Want to Emulate a la Mariska Hargitay and Tina Fey. She is the writer of the Vagina Monologues, and as a feminist I find it a huge travesty that I have not seen V.M. but that will quickly be remedied as it is in my Netflicks que. Anyways, there I sat at Starbucks reading her words, and talk about Chicken Soup for the Soul. Because the things she was writing--I've been there. I've felt that. I've said this. I've covered up that. And it hurts. The book is a fictional collection of essays and poems, and, well, I got inspired. I borrowed a few of her words, but these are mostly mine:

why am i twenty four years old and i just realized i was pretty?

why do i even have to be pretty?

why at twenty four did i just realize that i’m smart enough?

why at twenty four did i just realize that being a size eight and one hundred and forty eight pounds is good enough?

why am i twenty four years old and just realizing that it’s okay that i get mad?

why did it take me twenty four years to realize that i am sexy, and that i want it? yup, it.

why at twenty four did i just figure out that there’s more to life then having a ring on my finger?

that maybe i could be happy.

that maybe i

am

enough

by myself

alone

just me.

why am I twenty four years old and just realizing the power of femininity?

that being a woman is beautiful

and strong

and powerful

and scary

that my emotion is beautiful—it is not my weakness

why do i have to convince myself of these things every. day?

why am i twenty four years old and just finding my voice?

why am i twenty four years old and just realizing that if i want to eat four desserts in one day, that does not make me a pig...it just means i know what i want?

why am i twenty four years old and just realizing that I am complicated [and there is power in that]?

and i will

not

cover

it

up.

that is twenty four years too long.

why was admitting that i am a feminist the best and worst day of my life?

maybe because admitting that means that i am strong [or at least trying to be].

why does that scare you so much?

why can i not tell you that i like you [or that i don’t]?

why do i cover up who i am just to please you?

why do i give things up for you?

why can i not say what i mean to say?

why do i play along?

why have i been taught to keep quiet?

because i have a lot to say.

why do i live in a world where you can tell me things like “you can’t be pretty and smart at the same time”

where you think you get to comment on what i look like [and you get to approve]

where you get to tell me that i’m too much

where my strength scares you

where i’m not taken seriously

that i’m too emotional

that you are the one who gets to validate me

that i'm a nag

that i have to walk down the street and be afraid of you

that i'm not as hot as her [and then why do i hate her?]

that you can pay me less

that you think you can have my last name

that you think my body is for your entertainment

that you “have to” throw me the ball just because you think i’m not as good at sports as you

that you think what i have to say isn’t as good as what you have to say

that you can be chubby and rich...and that i just have to keep looking good

that being feminine isn’t good enough for you—you have to be a “man”

without realizing that you are not whole without the feminine

you’re saying that i’m not as good as you are

and that makes me want to run the other way

why do i live in a world where i think i am not

smart enough

pretty enough

sexy enough

skinny enough

pure enough

doing enough

friendly enough

funny enough

strong enough

perfect enough

pleasing enough

that i am

not

enough.

why am i so scared of Me?

Because I am the Good Girl.

I don’t step out of line.

I do not do bad things with boys.

I do not lose control.

I don’t know more then I should.

I ask questions when I know the answers.

I say mean things to try to fit in.

I lose myself for the sake of everyone else.

this is who i was. this is who i am.

but this is not just about me. this is about all of us.

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar.