Oh, Rats!

This blog is dedicated to Katie B. Now...GET OFF MY ASS! Just kidding, friend. Thanks for reading. I'll blog more often, I promise. Miss you! :)

Jacy and I have officially been in Oklahoma for four months now and I've officially been away from Nebraska for almost a year. Who'd of thunk I'd make a grand tour of the Bible Belt in less than 12 months? I shall note here that I am still a registered Democrat; however, I do enjoy the hundreds of pro-life signs on my drives back to Nebraska. (Mainly, I just use them to pass boredom. I like to count them like I used to count windmills when I was younger.) I am also looking into joining the NRA. Guns, guns, for everyone!

Jacy and I are definitely not the same two girls who left the Cornhusker state. We're much more mature. Case in point: Jacy has unofficially changed her name to "Jae," which is her professional hairstylist name. And I now go by Jes (with one "s") because I was getting sick of having gender identity issues caused by the spelling of "Jess." Rest assured, faithful readers, we will NOT be changing our website to jesandjae.blogspot.com. It doesn't flow off the tongue quite as well. And I'd rather not drop our blog's readership from two people a day down to one person a day....

In our quest to become more mature, Jae and I decided that this was a great time to take on the responsibility of a pet. Our apartment complex doesn't allow pets, so I told Jacy "Oh, hell naw" when she asked if we could get dogs, cats, pigs, mini giraffes, penguins, etc. But, for some reason or another, I really liked her idea of getting rats. I once heard they were loving, affectionate creatures. Plus, they were much easier to clean up after than boyfriends. AND if our landlord caught us with the rats, we could essentially turn the situation around and blame her. "Well, our apartment had a rat infestation, so we felt the only way to control it was to take them in as pets." If she didn't believe us and eviction was threatened, we could just take the easy way out and give them to our friends with snakes.... (gah-ross).

Everyone, meet Blanche.....



And Harriet....



Jacy and I are really great about naming our pets racially-obvious names. When we were younger, Jacy had a white rabbit named Ivory and I had a black rabbit named Ebony. When Jacy got a Chihuahua, we didn't have a hard time picking out the name "Cholo." (Thank you, Down aka Kilo for one of the best songs ever written, "Lean Like A Cholo.") Times still haven't changed. I named my white rat "Blanche" after everyone's favorite Southern belle, Blanche Devereaux on The Golden Girls (Caucausian slut). And Jacy named her black rat "Harriet" after Harriet Tubman (African-American abolitionist). Jacy is really into history. I'm really into 1980s sitcoms. We felt like these were very strong and very appropriate Southern names.

Choosing Harriet and Blanche was no easy task. We went to Petco to find them. There were three cages containing rats. The cages didn't indicate what breed of rat was inside, rather they were just labeled "small," "medium," and "large." We thought the labels had something to do with how big the rats were going to get. Come to find out, they were labeled based on the size of the snake that would be eating them. Small rats were for small snakes, large rats were for large snakes. I absolutely despise snakes. I typically go out of my way to kill snakes with lawn mowers, ice picks, machetes, etc. I immediately wanted to save all of the rats. (Kind of like the time I wanted to rescue all of the puppies from puppy mills after taking that stinkin' animal welfare class in college...)

Unfortunately, because we really aren't supposed to have pets at all inside of our apartment, Jae and I could only take home two rats. Jae wanted a "large" one. I didn't. They were far too creepy for me. You've seen "Willard," right? The idea of our rats eating our faces off was unsettling. I had to ease into the rodent thing. So, I convinced her to get a "medium" one and I got the lonely "small" one. (Getting smaller ones really hasn't lessened my fear. Everytime I hear the dang rats stirring during the night, I'm convinced they're bee-lining for my bedroom to begin chomping on my fingers off while I sleep.)

Jae tried to warn me that I should get one of the medium rats because rats were much more social when they were living with other rats, but I was willing to take on the challenge of Blanche. She was so tiny and white and perfect and LONELY. Not to mention, she was inevitably the next rat up for a small snake date. There was no other option. I HAD to take her home with me.

I should have listened to Jacy. Blanche is scared of everything. Oh, yeah, and she has a major problem. She can't control her freaking bowels. I have never been shit on more in my life...and I'm a middle child! (woe is me, woe is me.) Naturally, Jacy's rat is awesome. She perches on her shoulder and cuddles and doesn't poop on Jacy's clothing/floor/hands/carpet. Go figure. Jacy's good at everything, even raising rats (insert more middle child whining here).

If anyone has any great rat-raising tips, I'd love to hear them. I just want to know how to teach my rat to not poop. I'm reallllyyyy far behind on the rat training thing. Jacy's already working on sit, shake, and bang. Also, if you make rat clothing, please let me know. Or little wooden rat spatulas.

I Heart My Mama

I told my friend, Katie, I would dedicate my next blog to her. Sorry, Katie, but I'm a big, fat liar. I promise you'll get the next one, dear! Instead, I'm dedicating this blog to my amazing mother.

Mother's Day is just around the corner and my hometown's local radio station offered a Mother's Day contest this week. There are so many wonderful moms in our little community, so I didn't know if my mama would be able to pull off the victory. (Well, in my heart of hearts I knew she would because she is just that awesome!) In order to nominate her, I had to write a short essay on why she's the "best, most deserving mom of all." I knew instantly what I would write. I thought I'd post it on zee ol' blog for all to enjoy. I only wish my words could give her more justice.

When I think of my mother, Jan Schwager, three words automatically come to mind: courage, strength and love.

My mother’s courage began in 1972, when she moved to Chambers to begin her career as a school teacher. My mom grew up in Elkhorn, so moving to Chambers seemed completely irrational to her friends and family back in Southeast Nebraska. After a couple of miserable years of living in a one-bedroom trailer in Chambers (not that Chambers isn’t the greatest place in the world!), my mom met a smooth-talkin’ country boy, who swept her off of her feet – my father, Gene.

My parents got married in 1975 and had their first daughter, Gina, in 1977. In 1979, my parents had a son, Jeff, and my mom took off work to raise her family. However, my parents were struck with terrible tragedy in their newlywed stage. In 1983, my mother’s father died of a heart attack at a very young age. Then, just a year later, my parents lost their only son in a tragic snowmobile accident.

The death of a child often tears families apart, but my mother’s strength and courage held my family together through even the darkest times. My mother went back to work, helped provide for her family, and put a smile on her face despite the pain. After all, she had a young daughter and a grieving husband to take care of.

Just three short years after my brother’s death, my parents had two more daughters – me and my sister, Jacy. Despite having two young daughters, my mom never lost sight of her career goals and decided to take classes the University of Nebraska at Kearney to complete her Master’s degree. Upon completion, my mom became the guidance counselor at Chambers.

My mom wears many hats at Chambers – English teacher, geography teacher, guidance counselor. She even teaches college-credit classes through Northeast Community College at 7 a.m. every other day. Oh – not to mention – she is one of the school’s administrators. But her passion for teaching has never, EVER prevented her from being a tremendous mother. Even after a long day at work, my mom would have time to cook supper, clean the house and help my sister and me with our homework. Somehow she even attended every single athletic event my sisters and I participated in – and those bleachers aren’t comfortable!

Even though I’ve been far away from home for nearly six years, my mom’s love has never wavered. I always look forward to my daily chat with her. She understands my busy lifestyle, so she even learned how to text, Facebook, Skype and Twitter to keep our family connected at all times.

There is so much more I wish I could say about my mother. And, there is so much more I wish I could give back to my mother for all of the courage, strength and love she has provided to my family. I hope by winning KBRX’s Mother’s Day gift basket, my mother would finally see how amazing she is. I only hope to someday be half the mother my mother has been.

Thank you, Mama Schwag, for always being my light, guidance, and friend. And, perhaps, for giving me one of my greatest gifts --- my words. Happy Mother's Day, Mama Schwag! I love you!
-Jessica

We Aren't In Kansas Anymore (Thank Goodness)

Evidently I've turned into one of those lame bloggers who only blogs once a month. I really have zero excuse. Sure, I've been busy with my new life, but not busy enough to neglect my love for writing. Actually, I'm going to blame my Kindle. Stupid thing stealing my time. Or maybe it's because I've spent so much time traveling back to Nebraska. I've gone back to The Good Life two out of the past four weekends. Yeah, I'm that girl who moves away from "home" but still finds it necessary to go back 12 times a year. Whatev. Don't judge me.

I guess there's some good that has come out of my travels....

1. On a more serious note, I've figured out some shiz in my personal life and now I'm 200 percent ready to move forward with my amazing Oklahoma life.

and

2. I've come to the realization that I completely and irrevocably despise the state of Kansas.

I've spent more than 32 hours on the road, with about 20 of those hours spent driving through Kansas. Those 20 hours were the most miserable hours of my entire life. The first trip wasn't completely terrible. Jacy was with me and we were still getting along in Kansas. (We started bitching at each other about 20 miles into Nebraska.) But my second trip was how I imagine driving through the seventh circle of Hell would be like...I now know where Dante Alighieri gained inspiration for the Inferno.


For some reason, the Kansas government found it necessary to conduct controlled burns throughout the entire state to "green up the grass." It's not just an acre of controlled burning here and there, OH NOOO, it's 100s and 100s of miles of controlled burning. And I'm not even sure it was that "controlled." I didn't see one fireman containing the burn. There were times that the fire was hopping onto the highway. Sure, I smoke cigarettes every once in a while, but I'm pretty sure that an hour of driving through Kansas has increased my chances of lung cancer even more than smoking.

As if smelling like a bonfire wasn't bad enough, I couldn't even place any calls to keep my mind off of the desolate, charbroiled land. Yeah, zero US Cellular reception in the middle of Kansas. Oh, and did I mention that my GPS got me lost? Only because it lost reception, too. Probably because its signal couldn't zoom past the clouds of smoke (is that what signal does? zoom? I'd like to think so.) My rat bastard GPS died for a while and then came back on, only to instruct me to drive up a two-lane highway at 60 miles per hour. Somehow it made me miss the sign for the interstate (...not my fault at all...). Luckily, I got behind a car with Oklahoma license plates who felt the need to escape Kansas as bad as I did. Unluckily, some idiot with the Kansas Department of Roads thought rumble bars ALL OVER THE ROAD were a good idea. Everytime me and my fellow Okie went to pass the slow-moving vehicles, we'd almost get jiggled to death by the rumble bars (which ran down the center freaking line for miles and miles).

I guess there was one saving grace in Kansas: there were no cliffs to drive off of. Because, after about 100 miles of blackened tumbleweeds, I really may have driven my car off a cliff.

But hey, I had a fantastic trip in Nebraska once I made it there. Slept in a Motel 6 (not a great experience), drank Bloody Marys at Wheatfields (great experience), ate my body weight in Runza (STELLAR EXPERIENCE), caught up with my best friends (an even better experience!) and prayed to the porcelain gods (not a great experience at the time. However, as I reflect back on the weekend, I've realized it was just a symbol of the freaking awesome time I had).

I'll try not to make it a month again, folks.

Peace. Love. Stay out of Kansas.

Really? Baby Titties?

There are some really sick people in this world. Case in point: The fact that our most popular blog post on jessandjacy.blogspot.com thus far has been "Baby Titties." Hey folks, I can SEE where people are viewing our blog from. Okay, I can't really see if you're accessing our blog naked from your living room computer while you sip white wine. But I can see what town your house is located in. (See the tracker to the right of this screen...scroll down a little. See it? Yeah, that's it.) I can also see how you stumbled upon our blog. For instance, I can see that "Baby Titties" has acquired 114 page views THIS YEAR, with most of the views coming from someone typing in "Baby Titties" on Google.

So here's what I want to know - are people look for the titties of a baby? Or surfing for girls with tiny breasts? Or were they really just looking for our blog, which, in fact, has nothing to do with the latter or the former. In fact, our blog had to do with baby kitties. Cats. Meow.

Really, I'm posting this blog more as a test. Hey, you out there! Yes, you. The one searching for baby titties. What are YOU really searching for? Pray, do tell. I'm quite curious.

In other, non-related news....

1) I met Aiden from Sex and the City (John Corbett) the other night at a tiny bar in Shawnee, Oklahoma. He's pretty tasty. Can you believe he's 49-years-old? Why is it that guys age so much better than women? That's a whole other blog topic. I won't go there. But feel free to gawk at this silver fox....

2) Jacy is kind of a jerk. We ordered pizza yesterday and the jackwagon dropped me off to pay for the pizza and never came back. I skipped out of The Hideaway, pizza in tote, only to find I had no ride. I also left my cell phone in her car. I wandered around the street aimlessly. Just as I started to wimper, I found her parked in a lot a half a block away. She was just playing around on her phone, unconcerned that I could have been murdered. Some people's kids...

3) I got my new Oklahoma driver's license and license plates, which leads me to believe that I can now drive like an Oklahoman (an utterly negligent, cell-phone gawking, inconsiderate, road-raging, no-blinker-using driver). No offense to my fellow Oklahomans, but y'all can't drive. I thought it was bad when they got 5 inches of snow, but it's really just bad all the way around. On my way home a couple of weeks ago, I counted 12 DIFFERENT CARS that didn't use their blinkers. TWELVE! In THREE MILES. Unacceptable. Yesterday, I literally shook my freaking fist at a car. Jacy witnessed. Who even shakes a fist anymore? It was the only gesture I could think of at the time... I felt it showed more heart and anger than just giving that ridiculous, good-for-nothing driver "the bird."

And on that note, I'm going to bed. Actually, I'm not going to bed at all. I thought it was a brilliant idea to order a grande skinny vanilla latte at 6:30 tonight. I'm going to be up a while. But I have a jolly good book to read - Water For Elephants. Read it. I can't put it down. Goodnight lovessss!

Medifast

Well, it's about that time. Yes, I'm annoucing my latest "fad" in dieting. First it was QuickTrim, then it was working out like a crazy person and now (drumroll please) it's Medifast. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to work out like a crazy person, but I think I need to be a bit more consistent on the whole not eating like shit part of the plan.

I took my last bites of human food last night with a 3 a.m. McDonald's run. Five hours later, I woke up and took my first bites of baby poop (i.e. Medifast's maple and brown sugar oatmeal). They don't call it Medi-FAST for nothing. A bowl of oatmeal here, a weightloss shake there - ayiyiyiiiiii - I'm going to need a lot of strength to get me through this one. Basically, the plan is to eat six times a day. I'll eat five "meals" that Medifast supplies to me and then I eat one Lean and Green meal that I prepare on my own. Today, I prepared chicken on my George Foreman and then ate a few cups of salad with low-fat dressing.

Do you know how hard it is to diet when someone else in the house is eating real food? At noon, Jacy knocked down some Mac and Cheese, at 4 p.m., she inhaled some sushi, and at the movies tonight she ate an entire box of milk duds. I have to confess, I did eat some edamame at the sushi joint, but I didn't think that was TOO bad considering the dreadful circumstances.

I've hit a plateau that I just can't seem to shake, so I'm going to try this crap for a couple of weeks and see how I do. I'll be sure keep y'all updated. Honestly, my posts could get reallllll interesting the next two weeks. Have you ever seen a Schwager deprived of food?? We're like rabid dogs. I'm sure I'll do something completely insane that I'll have to blog about. Stay tuned.....

Sweaty Betty

Friends, as of 7:55 this morning, I have officially lost 25 pounds since moving away from Nebraska. Not a HUGE number, but it's a 25 pounds less than I was last year at this time. And damnit, it is staying off come hell or high water. Seriously though, Jacy and I polished off three boxes of Girl Scout cookies last weekend and I didn't gain an ounce. It's gone for good.

I had a goal in mind when I started (which I'm about 40 pounds away from), but really it's just become a great journey for me. I've realized the importance of a healthy lifestyle instead of just focusing on a number. Sure, I get off track every once in a while, but I'm not secretly binging on fast food in my car. The biggest, most helpful thing to ask myself everytime I shove something in my mouth is, "Would I eat this in front of Ryan Lochte/Josh Hartnett/Jillian Michaels/Bob Harper?" If the answer is "Aw, hell no," then generally I put it down. Sometimes when I'm out to eat with friends I'll still indulge, but I'm not eating an entire plate of shit food. Instead, I'm just having a few bites of shit food and then I'll go back to my regularly scheduled program.

I'm also not being a giant lump of lard who never works out. You know those people who NEVER work out and still remain thin as a rail? (ahem, my BF Maggie...jerk). Yeah, well I'm not one of those people. The gym is my frienemy. But recently the gym has become my bestest friend in the whole wide world....thanks to one delectable gentleman.

Folks, I have this humungo, gigantuano crush on a boy at my gym. (Yes, after contracting Bieber Fever, I now call grown men "boys" and have begun using the word, "crush," to define my feelings for boys.) But really, a "crush" is the only way to describe it.

You know how when you were in ninth grade and you had a "crush" on the hot senior who dated the hottest girl in school? Yeah, that's what's happening here. I feel very Molly Ringwald in 16 Candles. Every time I go to the gym, I find find myself pouding it out twice as hard on the dreadmill just to show him how much of a beast I am. Fortunately for me, he somehow always manages to park his cute behind on the treadmill right beside me. Unfortunately for him, I kick his ASS every time. He runs 6 mph, I bump it to 8. He's at 6 percent incline, I put mine at 12. I kick ass so hard that I almost feel like roaring after my workout. Sadly there is one major downfall to my beast-dom....

I am the sweatiest mo' fo' on the planet.

Dude, I don't even drink my recommended 8-10 glasses of water every day and I still manage to ooze. I swear to you, if you put a 5-gallon bucket by my dreadmill, it'd be at least half full by the time I'm done.

Can you see my dilemma here? How disgusting must I look after my workouts? I try to wear colors like black or navy blue while I work out, but it's tough to hide my hair from looking like I just stepped out of the shower.

I'll be honest with you, this guy isn't even out of my league. I'd probably have a shot with this guy in a bar setting. But how the hell can he find me the least bit attractive when I look like I just ran 10 miles with a two-ton hippo riding me piggy back? It's impossible. Jacy keeps saying, "Ohhh, just make eye contact with him and then give him a smile." Yeah, Jace, I totally would if sweat didn't run down past my eyebrows and block my contacts so bad. Who doesn't love a chick who looks like she just got done seizing/sobbing uncontrollably/fighting off pink eye?

But in all honestly, I'm hoping he'll look past my sweatiness and see my inner badass. I mean, what other girl does 100 squats with 25 lb dumbells in each hand? And really, in the end, this whole "being healthy" business is about ME, not some cute guy with big arms and a nice tan.

But damn, watching him in the gym sure helps me on my journey.

Bieber Fever

I would give my left foot to be a teenage girl right about now.

All-in-all, I really hate this techy generation. (Ha! Like I should talk. I graduated from high school 5 1/2 years go.) But they have one thing that I am completely envious of......

JUSTIN BIEBER <3
*(Yes, I just put a heart after his name. He makes me swoon. It's the Fever.)

I was first introduced to Justin Bieber about a year ago on Chelsea Lately. I had heard his songs on the radio prior to his interview with Chelsea Handler, but honestly wasn't a huge fan. To me, he sounded like any other wannabe pop singer. And believe me, we already had too many wannabe pop singers roaming around. It wasn't until I witnessed his dazzling personality on E! that I fell in love with a boy half my age. He smiled, I smiled. And it wasn't just me either. I could tell Chelsea Handler had an adorable little crush on the adorable little boy as well. At that moment, I started paying attention to the prepubescent, shaggy blonde-haired boy and got giddy everytime "One Time" played on the radio.

A couple of months ago, I saw a commercial for Justin Bieber's movie, "Never Say Never," and made a vow to see the flick as soon as it came out. This was very unlike me. I HATE when young stars create anything autobiographical. I was a faithful Miley Cyrus fan until she came out with her book, "Miles To Go." And Lauren Conrad? Yup, she flew off my radar when she semi-wrote "L.A. Candy." But there was something so endearing about Justin Bieber. He never asked for the attention. He was an innocent bystander in his rise to the top. I didn't know much about him, so I was anxious to learn more in his documentary.

I was delighted when my friend, Kylie, texted me to see if I wanted to go to his movie with her last night.

I believe I replied with an eye roll and an, "UM, DUHHHHH."*
*(The Fever also has me using teenage lingo. One of the many side effects.)

Yesterday morning, I honored my vow by purchasing two tickets to "Never Say Never" on its opening night. About an hour after my glorious purchase, I heard one of my coworkers say, "What am I doing tonight? Well, I have to drop my three daughters (all under the age of 13) off at the theater to see that Justin Bieber movie...hahaha, yeahhh, we had to order tickets last night....the lines are supposed to be huge....all of my daughters' friends are going....oh yeah, they call it Bieber Fever."

I wasn't about to let a bunch of raging teenage girls scare me. Aw, heck no! I was going to this movie. And I had Cougartown and Demi Moore to thank. Persistence is key in stalking young prey. After all, Demi Moore beat out lots of younger women to become Ashton Kutcher's wifey. I will NEVER SAY NEVER.

So Kylie, Kylie's mom (Sheila), and I punched our tickets to the movie. It was the best decision of our lives.

The movie was amazing. I really have no words. The Biebs is freaking talented. He really isn't some wannabe pop star. He has real talent. The kid taught himself how to sing, dance, drum and play guitar. Not to mention he is charming and has the best smile (and hair) in the whole world. And he doesn't have looney toon parents like teen starts before him (think Lindsay Lohan's parents or Jessica Simpson's dad). He is the complete package.

As I was sitting in the theater last night, clapping along to the songs in his concert, watching all of the little girls get out of their seat and dance, I realized how utterly jealous I was of all of them. They could outwardly stalk Justin Bieber and not get arrested. They could weep when they saw him on screen and wouldn't get weird looks from adult strangers. I was born in the wrong era.

The only band I could worship was 'N SYNC and they didn't last long. Wellll, Justin Timberlake did A-OK for himself, but I was a JC Chasez fan. (And if you were a JC fan, you were NOT a Justin fan and vice versa.) I even wrote JC a letter once expressing how much it would mean to me if he came to my sister's wedding and performed. Did I hear anything back? NOPE. Justin Bieber would never leave his fans hanging. EVER. He loves his fans.

Other than 'N SYNC, I had weird, WEIRD taste in music. I loved Bette Midler, Cher, Semisonic, Sugar Ray and the Spice Girls (my musical taste was not unlike young, gay boys at the time). As for hot young boys to fantasize about? I did have the beautiful and talented JOSH HARTNETT. I plastered my closet door in his pictures. I wept when he died at the end of Pearl Harbor. I wrote him fan letters. I attempted to stalk him on an FCCLA trip to Minneapolis. No luck. Today's teenage girls have Twitter and Facebook to track Justin Bieber's location. I had NOTHING.

Let me reiterate my first statement...I would give my left foot to be a teenage girl right about now. Seriously, go see "Never Say Never" and you will understand why. Justin Bieber is a phenomenon and he's not going anywhere for a very long while. So I say you should just accept him into your lives and get down with the Bieber Fever. (Best illness I've ever had.)