I'm rantin' like Rixblix!!!

(Note: This post may be laden with vulgarity and profanity. I usually try to keep the cussing down to a minimum while on the blogosphere. But right now, I don't fucking care.)

Allow me to begin by saying I'm not a huge fan of today's rap. Sure, I enjoy those crazy Beastie Boys every now and then or listening to Floyd as he raps along to his old school NWA or his silly Wu Tang. Even seeing ol' Rosie from "The Wedding Singer" perform Sugarhill's Gang classic song towards the end of the movie is delightful. But other than that, I'm not really big into rap. Yet I listen to it religiously EVERY morning. You may ask, 'Why is that, Jenny???" And I'll tell you why. I hear it every fucking morning because of that stupid inconsiderate prick who lives across the hall from me.

Some people are morning people. They love waking to the sounds of birds chirping or those farm dwellers are roused by the rooster early in the morning. Most people are jarred awake by their alarm clock. And what I wish this dumbass would realize is that he is not the only person living in this building. Some people work second and third shift and sleep in the morning or even through the late afternoon. (Yes, you bastard, some people ACTUALLY work for a living!!)

Many nights, I don't get home from work before midnight. I am a second shift worker unfortunately, and my hubby is a first shift worker--that way, we don't have to stick Chloe in daycare. Anyhoo, I try to get to bed by 2 am at the latest. It usually takes me a little bit to fall asleep, what with Floyd's happy snoring. He wakes me up when he leaves so I can kiss him goodbye, then I go back to sleep. Then, like clockwork, begins the free daily show from my lovely, inconsiderate piece of shit neighbor blaring his crappy music. The sound seems like he is physically in my bathroom across the hall from bedroom. So I go close the bathroom door as well as the bedroom door, crawl back under the covers, with my pillow over my head, and pray that the sound will be muffled this time, even though the past few month's efforts of the exact daily routine have proven futile. And again, I am wrong. Underneath my covers and pillow, I can clearly hear every word emanating from ACROSS the hall. Yes, I, Just Jenny, the queen of, "Huh? Whadyu say?" could understand every word. Okay, friends, THAT is when you know your music is too fucking loud. Oh, then it gets better...

Just when I thought my daily dose of my morning hell couldn't get any worse, the stupid bastard raps along... poorly and off key. I'm sorry..I'm not going to say.."OOH!! Easy-E, ODB, Biggie?!?! Is that you??!!" NO. I wanna say, "Dude, I know you are not DMX, so stop rapping along. And I don't care if "it's hard out here for a pimp", because you sure ain't Terrance Howard either!" AAaaRRRRrRRgggGGhh!!!!

So, kids, what is the lesson of the day? Well, today's lesson is if you live in a house, then feel free to listen to any loud shitty music you want and scream at the top of your lungs like you are the King of Karaoke. However, if you live in an apartment complex or condo, and you are not the lone tenant, you need to show some consideration for your fellow neighbors and turn the music down a bit. It doesn't matter if "these go to eleven"..don't go past ten on your speakers. Because if you do, that sweet lady across the hall is gonna show you her hospitality by sticking a big fucking pineapple up your ass sideways. Thank you and have a nice day.

Six days and counting...

Well, in six days I will have reached another milestone in my life. No, I haven't beaten cancer (or found a cure for it either), nor am I flying in a shuttle to outer space (dang it!). On March 18th, I will be turning the big 3-0. I assume it's somewhat obligatory to make a list of all the things you love about your life and the things you feel you're lacking..things you feel you should have accomplished when you hit 30. I don't think I'm going to do that. I honestly feel that although my life may not be what I thought it would be when I was 20, I feel I can't really complain. I suppose I wouldn't mind having a newer car--I dunno..I guess driving a 1993 Honda Accord with 183, 600+ miles on it and a big dent and rust eating away on your fender isn't really sexy. But, then again, it runs (more often than not), so then I feel lucky to have it.


My family is lovely. My dad and stepmom, my mother, my brother and sister-in-law are all wonderful. (I must say that the fact my mother has not been on speaking terms with my brother for four months breaks my heart a little more each day, but I try not to think about it too much. I try to keep the faith that one day she'll come around...) And as far as in-laws go, I couldn't have hand picked better parents-in-law if I tried. :o)


I feel that I'm blessed to have my husband Floyd in my life. I knew there was something special about him the moment we locked eyes with each other. Yes, we had a "moment" when we met. That mushy, unreal, love-at-first sight, only-in-Hollywood moment where our eyes met and in that instant, I felt my heart skip. Since then, I knew he was the one for me. As I got to know him, not only did I realize that he's funny and smart as hell, but he always--well, he just makes me feel good. Simple as that. And when we had Chloe, holy crap. Everything changed. My love for him tripled. He is flawlessly amazing at being her daddy. She is the light of our lives and we truly can't remember a time without her. From her enormous blue eyes with insanely long eyelashes, to her loud, hilarious laughter, to how sweetly peaceful she is when she slumbers, Chloe makes our happy family complete.

So when I think about my family..my parents and in-laws, brother and sister-in-law, and the loves of my life, Floyd and Chloe, I find it silly to think about making that obligatory "Dammit, I'm turning thirty!" list. Do I have regrets or things I would've liked to have done by the time I turn thirty years old?? Sure. But with those people in my life, I couldn't care less if I haven't climbed Mount Everest or gone scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef. Besides, I have to have some items for my "Dammit, I'm turning forty!" list in ten years... :o)

My daughter looks like Fred Sanford

Lemme explain..I don't mean that my sweet little 14 month old resembles Red Foxx at all. But sometimes, when she's stumbling around with her hands behind her back and her stomach puffed out, Chloe reminds me of Fred Sanford. It cracks me up. I feel sometimes that at any given moment, she's going to clutch her hand over her chest and exclaim, "Oooohh! This is the big one!! You hear that, Elizabeth?? I'm coming home, honey!!"

Now that would be odd.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..in March?!?!

Yes..I am appalled at that title as well. Here it is..the start of a warm, beautifully sunny weekend. Spring fever is definitely taking over my mind and body. But what did I notice in the streets of Sunnyland and East Peoria last night after my husband and I dropped off Chloe for the night at Grandma and Grandpa's? Snowflakes and Christmas trees lining the streets on the lamp posts. Whaaaa?!?!?! There are still Christmas decorations hanging up?? In March?! Why? I mean I understand how East Peorians are a proud people, with Folepi and the magnificent floats and exciting lights that decorate the city during the holiday season. I know I always enjoy seeing a city so lit up, it would make Las Vegas blush, but jeezy creezy, man..spring is only a couple of weeks away. We're rapidly approaching our third holiday since Christmastime. I think it's time to move on. No wonder we're still getting snow every three days. Poor Mother Nature is confused when she sees holiday decorations still up.


Hmmm...perhaps it's finally time for me to put away my holiday floormat with the penguin holding candy canes...

Attention men: Leave your eyebrows alone!!!!

I must admit..I do have a few pet peeves--approximately 1,638 pet peeves the last time I counted. It cracks me up because my hubby definitely knows my top ten list.


Floyd was telling me that the Cubs Caravan was today, which took place at the Riverplex. He told me that Ryne Sandberg was there, as well as Ted Lilly and Geovany Soto. Then he told me in a lowered, gossipy voice, "And Geovany Soto plucks his eyebrows!!!"


"WhaAAAaaatT?!?" I exclaimed. "Ugh, I hate that!"


I'm sorry. I just can't stand to see men with perfectly shaped womanly eyebrows. A guy could be drop dead gorgeous and I wouldn't have the foggiest idea, because I would be staring at those damned plucked eyebrows on his face.


Now, don't get me wrong..I'm not exactly advocating a unibrow either. Although, Bert from "Sesame Street" did say, "Never underestimate the power of the unibrow." I think if you men prefer having two eyebrows instead of one, that's alright. Just clean up the hairs that connect your eyebrows and maybe a couple of stray hairs underneath. I don't need men walking around with some crazy, perfectly arched Joan Crawford eyebrows yelling at me, "NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!!!" (I'm sorry to digress a bit..)

So, men, unless you're the 14th reincarnation of Menudo, please..for the love of God, put down the tweezers. Step away from the eyebrow wax. Show some respect for yourself and think about the children. You don't have to go overboard with your metrosexuality. I know it's hard to differentiate between simple grooming and looking absolutely effeminate...especially when there's famous athletes out there with overplucked brows also. (I'm talking to you, Rex Grossman, Pudge Rodriguez, and Michael Strahan!(to name a few) Most women just appreciate it when their guys shave occasionally and shower every once and a while. And when they give them flowers. :o)

Sometimes I wonder about myself

I'm usually an averagely smart woman...I have a decent amount of common sense. I know to look both ways before crossing the street..I'm aware that if I'm on fire, I need to stop, drop, and roll. The other day I did something that made me shake my head in disbelief.

While looking in the kitchen for a snack for Floyd and myself, I noticed we had a can of crescent rolls and four hot dogs. Floyd suggested, "How 'bout making some pigs in a blanket?" I thought that sounded tasty, but never made them before. He told me it's easy--just slice the dogs in half, roll 'em in the crescent roll, and place the cookie sheet in the oven. Simple, right? Hahaha..not when you're Just Jenny.

I began slicing the hot dogs in half, like I was instructed, but as I was finishing slicing the fourth and final hot dog, I noticed that I had sliced them in half the long way, as if they were pickles from Steak 'n Shake. Don't ask me why. I never claimed to be Chef Kevin, but I thought I could at least pull off friggin' pigs in a blanket with ease.

Never one to be defeated, especially not by a bunch of cold, lifeless frankfurters, I said, "F**k it" and sliced them the correct way. I rolled them up, slid them into the oven, and before we knew it, we had some golden brown, deformed, greasy and slightly doughy on the inside pigs in a blanket in which to feast upon. Sigh...

If anyone needs to cater a party, Just Jenny is available...very available. Probably at a very low cost. :(

Christmas is only one month away...

Damn. That's crazy.