Christmas 2010: Here I am, curled up on a chair in the dining room, sipping on some hot tea and typing on my BRAND NEW COMPUTER. I seriously have the best parents ever. I've been without a computer for almost two years because my 2005 model decided to all but burst into flames. This one is so fancy. You should see the design on the top. I may become one of those brooding, coffee-house-dwelling computer nerds. (If only I wasn't terrified of spilling coffee on this baby. Yeah, the hot tea I am sipping is actually sitting on an end table behind me. I am treating this thing like my first-born.)
What a terrific Christmas though. Actually, what a terrific year. I love looking back on the past year and reflecting on all of the wonderful things/people/places that have been brought into my life. I don't mean to brag, but I have the most beautiful family in the entire world. You should have seen my nephews today. That AJ - wow - melts my heard with a flash of his smile. And he's so smart. I know all aunts are supposed to say that about their nephews, but for real. I am expecting this kid to go all Mensa on our asses. And that Bo - he is growing so fast. He's a beautiful little boy with flawless skin. I swear he's going to start crawling around any minute.
The past year has been extremely amazing in the lives of JessandJacy. We both graduated college (I in May and Jacy in December). We welcomed little Bo into our lives, as well as wonderful new friends. We've maintained tremendous friendships with our existing friends.(We even saw a few of them get married!) And we have an amazingly supportive family to be thankful for every day. Our lives our wonderful.
And now, as 2011 approaches quickly, we are embarking on another new journey. Last week, I accepted a position at the University of Oklahoma in Norman. And guess what? My little sis will be joining me! Norman's a college town -- what better place to pursue her hair styling career? We've spent the last few days looking for apartments. Yes, this is really happening. And we couldn't be more excited.
Thank you all (or y'all since I'm an Okie now) for being there to support us this year. It's been a real rollercoaster, but worth the ride. I am so anxious/excited for this new year to start and for our lives to finally take off. I know this is freaking corny and not my style at all, but I am really truly blessed.
That being said, please continue to follow our lives in 2011. We love to share our experiences with everyone. Jacy and I will be together again (for the first time in six months), so some weird stuff is bound to happen. And I'll be there to document and blog every stupid thing she...errr....I mean WE do.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
-Jess (and Jacy)
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Update
Wow, I suck. I've made you all wait nearly three weeks for another blog. I'm sure you've been pressing F5 over and over again for days - wishing, waiting, hoping, PRAYING for a new blog. (In that day-dreaming head of mine, that's really what y'all are doing.) Well hold onto your britches, because here it is!
Okay, honestly, you can probably just skip this blog. It's more of a tell-all about what's been going on in my life. Nothing too crazy.
So much has happened since November 21, 2010...like...THANKSGIVING! Granted, I wasn't able to make the long trip back to Nebraska, but I didn't make my way to Norman, Oklahoma, for some good old-fashioned fun. I come from a small family, so our turkey days are pretty quaint. Get in-get out. Well, my friend, Kylie's family is a bit different. We had five turkeys. FIVE. One baked, one broiled, one fried, one roasted and one most likely baked underground for 48 hours inside a pig carcus. Seriously, this family goes ALL OUT.
No time for a food hangover though because immediately after dinner we went to see Burlesque (so bad it was good) and THEN we headed to Target at 10 p.m. to sit out under the stars all night. Yes, folks, we did Black Friday in ultimate fashion. Kylie is a die-hard. She didn't care that it was 27 degrees out and the snot from our noses was freezing as soon as it hit our upper lips. She packed thermoses (thermi?), sleeping bags, hats, gloves and even reclining folding chairs to keep us warm all night. Things were going great until the people behind us let some of their friends cut in line. Yeah, the people behind them didn't like that too much. They threw a hissy. Come to find out, though, some people got shot in Oklahoma City (only 30 min to the North of Norman) that same night because of a feud sparked from cutting in line. Scary shit. But luckily we were able to get in and out of Target at 4 a.m. with no gun shot wounds. Only a few shopping cart nicks.
And for the best part of the weekend: Kylie's bachelorette party. Here's the scoop - Ky had zero idea of what was going on for her party. She was told to look all dressed up and then we were all meeting up at 6. But we had one slight problem. At about 6 p.m., Kylie tried on her bride-to-be outfit and, GASP, she didn't think it fit! (She didn't try it on in the store before hand.) Oh the drama! Little-did-she-know, that we weren't partaking in any male stripper business. Nor were we even going out on the town. We, instead, were taking pole dancing lessons! So really, she could completely slum it and it wouldn't matter. But I couldn't TELL her that because that'd ruin the surprise.
So after coaxing her into a different outfit, we were on our merry way to Morgan's house. Two steps into Morgan's house and Kylie realized what was going on.... She had just spent TWO FREAKING HOURS doing her hair/make-up and none of that mattered because we were just going to drink/dance all night anyway. Man she was one pissed off cookie. But after getting over the initial shock, she cheered up and we hopped on a party bus to take us to pole dancing lessons.
Here's the deal about the pole dancing... You've seen me before, right? If so, you know I am probably the most unsexiest person in the world. However, after about a bottle-and-a-half of champagne by myself, I was convinced I was Jenna-freaking-Jameson. I'd catch myself looking in the mirror making sex eyes at myself. Yeah, it was really disgusting. Then I'd try wrapping my leg around the pole and sliding down it, but my hands aways got stuck because I guess I have really sweaty hands? I needed some damn chalk or something. Could you imagine a stripper who stopped every two minutes to chalk up her hands? That was me. My favorite part was at the end when we got to strap these little Middle-Eastern skirts around our waists and shake it like Shakira. The champagne made me believe I was Shakira. Until everyone pointed out that I had the skirt on backwards. I'm an embarrassment to the sexy-women community.
Okay, so that was only one weekend of my past few weeks. Last weekend was the Big 12 Football Championships. And all sorts of stuff in between. But for now, I must go. I have Christmas parties to attend. Stay tuned for next time when I discuss conspiracy theories (seriously, I went to the JFK museum last weekend. I have things to share.)
Okay, honestly, you can probably just skip this blog. It's more of a tell-all about what's been going on in my life. Nothing too crazy.
So much has happened since November 21, 2010...like...THANKSGIVING! Granted, I wasn't able to make the long trip back to Nebraska, but I didn't make my way to Norman, Oklahoma, for some good old-fashioned fun. I come from a small family, so our turkey days are pretty quaint. Get in-get out. Well, my friend, Kylie's family is a bit different. We had five turkeys. FIVE. One baked, one broiled, one fried, one roasted and one most likely baked underground for 48 hours inside a pig carcus. Seriously, this family goes ALL OUT.
No time for a food hangover though because immediately after dinner we went to see Burlesque (so bad it was good) and THEN we headed to Target at 10 p.m. to sit out under the stars all night. Yes, folks, we did Black Friday in ultimate fashion. Kylie is a die-hard. She didn't care that it was 27 degrees out and the snot from our noses was freezing as soon as it hit our upper lips. She packed thermoses (thermi?), sleeping bags, hats, gloves and even reclining folding chairs to keep us warm all night. Things were going great until the people behind us let some of their friends cut in line. Yeah, the people behind them didn't like that too much. They threw a hissy. Come to find out, though, some people got shot in Oklahoma City (only 30 min to the North of Norman) that same night because of a feud sparked from cutting in line. Scary shit. But luckily we were able to get in and out of Target at 4 a.m. with no gun shot wounds. Only a few shopping cart nicks.
And for the best part of the weekend: Kylie's bachelorette party. Here's the scoop - Ky had zero idea of what was going on for her party. She was told to look all dressed up and then we were all meeting up at 6. But we had one slight problem. At about 6 p.m., Kylie tried on her bride-to-be outfit and, GASP, she didn't think it fit! (She didn't try it on in the store before hand.) Oh the drama! Little-did-she-know, that we weren't partaking in any male stripper business. Nor were we even going out on the town. We, instead, were taking pole dancing lessons! So really, she could completely slum it and it wouldn't matter. But I couldn't TELL her that because that'd ruin the surprise.
So after coaxing her into a different outfit, we were on our merry way to Morgan's house. Two steps into Morgan's house and Kylie realized what was going on.... She had just spent TWO FREAKING HOURS doing her hair/make-up and none of that mattered because we were just going to drink/dance all night anyway. Man she was one pissed off cookie. But after getting over the initial shock, she cheered up and we hopped on a party bus to take us to pole dancing lessons.
Here's the deal about the pole dancing... You've seen me before, right? If so, you know I am probably the most unsexiest person in the world. However, after about a bottle-and-a-half of champagne by myself, I was convinced I was Jenna-freaking-Jameson. I'd catch myself looking in the mirror making sex eyes at myself. Yeah, it was really disgusting. Then I'd try wrapping my leg around the pole and sliding down it, but my hands aways got stuck because I guess I have really sweaty hands? I needed some damn chalk or something. Could you imagine a stripper who stopped every two minutes to chalk up her hands? That was me. My favorite part was at the end when we got to strap these little Middle-Eastern skirts around our waists and shake it like Shakira. The champagne made me believe I was Shakira. Until everyone pointed out that I had the skirt on backwards. I'm an embarrassment to the sexy-women community.
Okay, so that was only one weekend of my past few weeks. Last weekend was the Big 12 Football Championships. And all sorts of stuff in between. But for now, I must go. I have Christmas parties to attend. Stay tuned for next time when I discuss conspiracy theories (seriously, I went to the JFK museum last weekend. I have things to share.)
Sunday, November 21, 2010
So Nice
I'm just curious - could someone tell me if I have, "I'M FRIENDLY. TALK TO ME" written across my forehead? If I did, would you tell me? For some reason people LOVE to talk to me. (Yeah, remember Big Burtha, the massage lady from a few months ago who told me about her obsession with cat mystery novels?) Don't get me wrong, I usually like to talk to people. But generally if you're missing all of your teeth, have a mullet and a mustache and a "Free Bird" shirt with a named tag that has "Billy Bob" scrolled across it, you and I probably won't have much in common.
Evidently I was looking like a super friendly dog lover when I stopped in to get a soda at a local gas station today. Instead of a Coke and a smile, I got a full ear. While filling up my to-go cup at the soda fountain, the store clerk (Billy Bob) said, "Hey girl, come here and check out this dog wearing sunglasses in that BMW." Convinced I was being punked, I pretended not to hear him. Alas, he did not believe my poor attempt of being deaf. He made his way over to the soda fountain to tap on my shoulder and direct me to the window.
Indeed, there was a dog wearing sunglasses sitting in the front seat of a blue BMW. As the car backed away from the curb, the dog casually made his way up and out of the sunroof. Miracle of miracles. "Is this real life?" I mumbled to myself out of Billy Bob's earshot.
Oh it was real life. In fact, Billy Bob knew the owners of the dog real well. They trained their dog to wear sunglasses. "You know how most owners train their dog to sit or shake? Well, these guys taught their dog how to wear sunglasses. Isn't that awesome??" Billy said.
"Really!?" I said with faux interest. "You mean to tell me they weren't strapped on or anything?!?"
"No, m'am. The dog just saw his mother wearing sunglasses and thought he'd try them out too. He doesn't know any different than to wear sunglasses." (Billy Bob sounded as if the dog had gone to Sunglass Hut, picked up a pair of Ray Bans and put them on with his opposable thumbs.)
"Wow, that's wild. Well my family used to raise Weimaraners, so I know all about dogs that like to dress up." (He stared at me blankly - had no idea what a Weimaraner is.) "You know, the grey dogs you see in calendars that are all dressed up? We'd dress them up and let them ride shotgun around town with us," I said (this was only a half-true story.)
"Oh really? Well my dogs are stupid. I have an Australian Sheppard who rocks. But I have this other little mutt that I want to kill."
"Oh, herm, well then why don't you kill him?" I asked. "HAHA! I'm just kidding - but why don't you find him a good home?"
"Oh I can't kill him considering what happened to his owners," he said.
"Oh, what happened to his owners?" I asked, hoping to hear his adopted dog was one of those that ate the face off of its last owner.
"His owner, my roommate, was murdered recently, so I have to take care of his dog now."
Murder? Seriously? Wow, I wasn't too far off with the face-eating-dog theory. That shit got me really interested.
"Your roommate was murdered?! How? Recently? Here? Where?" I inquired .
"Yeah, didn't you hear about the murder in Irving back on August 26th?"
"No..."
"Oh girl, this is such a bad neighborhood. I want to move as soon as I can." (Um, Billy Bob, clearly you're contributing to the 'bad neighborhood' if you lived with some guy who got murdered. Not exactly on the up-and-up....)
He continued, "Yeah, my roommate was killed by his ex-girlfriend. I even talked to him that morning. Creepy, huh dude? They were going to the park together on a date and then it happened."
"Um, WHAT HAPPENED?!"
"She stabbed him to death," He said blankly.
"Oh, so that's why you have his dog, huh?"
"Yup, she couldn't take care of it because she's in jail. So be careful around these parts," Billy Bob said with a creepy grin on his chin.
"Okay...reallll sorry about your roommate. I'd better go, my friend is waiting for me." Yeah, I was really creeped out after his weird smirk. DON'T STAB ME AHHHH.
"It was great talking with you sweetheart. Come back and see me sometime!"
"Oh, yes, I will," I said as I ran into the magazine rack - almost in a dead sprint - I was trying to get out of there as fast as I could. "Fuuuck that hurt."
"Be careful girllll, see you sooooon!"
So, please, PLEASE tell me if I just look overly friendly. I think it's great to be nice and share smiles with people every now and again. But if I never hear another murder story, I think I'll be okay.
Evidently I was looking like a super friendly dog lover when I stopped in to get a soda at a local gas station today. Instead of a Coke and a smile, I got a full ear. While filling up my to-go cup at the soda fountain, the store clerk (Billy Bob) said, "Hey girl, come here and check out this dog wearing sunglasses in that BMW." Convinced I was being punked, I pretended not to hear him. Alas, he did not believe my poor attempt of being deaf. He made his way over to the soda fountain to tap on my shoulder and direct me to the window.
Indeed, there was a dog wearing sunglasses sitting in the front seat of a blue BMW. As the car backed away from the curb, the dog casually made his way up and out of the sunroof. Miracle of miracles. "Is this real life?" I mumbled to myself out of Billy Bob's earshot.
Oh it was real life. In fact, Billy Bob knew the owners of the dog real well. They trained their dog to wear sunglasses. "You know how most owners train their dog to sit or shake? Well, these guys taught their dog how to wear sunglasses. Isn't that awesome??" Billy said.
"Really!?" I said with faux interest. "You mean to tell me they weren't strapped on or anything?!?"
"No, m'am. The dog just saw his mother wearing sunglasses and thought he'd try them out too. He doesn't know any different than to wear sunglasses." (Billy Bob sounded as if the dog had gone to Sunglass Hut, picked up a pair of Ray Bans and put them on with his opposable thumbs.)
"Wow, that's wild. Well my family used to raise Weimaraners, so I know all about dogs that like to dress up." (He stared at me blankly - had no idea what a Weimaraner is.) "You know, the grey dogs you see in calendars that are all dressed up? We'd dress them up and let them ride shotgun around town with us," I said (this was only a half-true story.)
"Oh really? Well my dogs are stupid. I have an Australian Sheppard who rocks. But I have this other little mutt that I want to kill."
"Oh, herm, well then why don't you kill him?" I asked. "HAHA! I'm just kidding - but why don't you find him a good home?"
"Oh I can't kill him considering what happened to his owners," he said.
"Oh, what happened to his owners?" I asked, hoping to hear his adopted dog was one of those that ate the face off of its last owner.
"His owner, my roommate, was murdered recently, so I have to take care of his dog now."
Murder? Seriously? Wow, I wasn't too far off with the face-eating-dog theory. That shit got me really interested.
"Your roommate was murdered?! How? Recently? Here? Where?" I inquired .
"Yeah, didn't you hear about the murder in Irving back on August 26th?"
"No..."
"Oh girl, this is such a bad neighborhood. I want to move as soon as I can." (Um, Billy Bob, clearly you're contributing to the 'bad neighborhood' if you lived with some guy who got murdered. Not exactly on the up-and-up....)
He continued, "Yeah, my roommate was killed by his ex-girlfriend. I even talked to him that morning. Creepy, huh dude? They were going to the park together on a date and then it happened."
"Um, WHAT HAPPENED?!"
"She stabbed him to death," He said blankly.
"Oh, so that's why you have his dog, huh?"
"Yup, she couldn't take care of it because she's in jail. So be careful around these parts," Billy Bob said with a creepy grin on his chin.
"Okay...reallll sorry about your roommate. I'd better go, my friend is waiting for me." Yeah, I was really creeped out after his weird smirk. DON'T STAB ME AHHHH.
"It was great talking with you sweetheart. Come back and see me sometime!"
"Oh, yes, I will," I said as I ran into the magazine rack - almost in a dead sprint - I was trying to get out of there as fast as I could. "Fuuuck that hurt."
"Be careful girllll, see you sooooon!"
So, please, PLEASE tell me if I just look overly friendly. I think it's great to be nice and share smiles with people every now and again. But if I never hear another murder story, I think I'll be okay.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Get A Life
I just needed to share this fun little ironic story. A story that proves I seriously need to get a life. Tonight, I hit an all-time TV-watcher's low.
I went to the Nebraska vs. Kansas watch party tonight at a neat little (well, big) bar called Cape Buffalo. Unable to find seats at a table in the main bar area, my crew made their way to a small area with nice comfy couches. When we sat down, I noticed a cute family off to my right. They looked SUPER familiar but I just could not place them for the life of me. Did I babysit for their daughter? No. Did I work with the husband/father? No. Had I seen the wife/mother in a mall? No.
Well, I was in a Husker bar afterall, so I was sure I had bumped into them in Lincoln at some point in my life.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't know these people in real life. I knew them from TV! WE tv to be exact. They were from freaking BRIDEZILLAS!!
A couple of months ago, my coworker and I were talking about Bridezillas. I mentioned that I am absolutely obsessed with WE tv and Bridezillas and she mentioned that she had a friend who was on the show. So, she found the webisode for me and we watched together after work one day. The whole episode looked so familiar and I was sure I'd seen it before (I'm awesome and watch reruns over and over again.).
Anyway, my coworker's friends are the Brizezilla people that were at the bar! And I, with all of my premium cable knowledge, RECOGNIZED THEM.
Small freaking world.
I went to the Nebraska vs. Kansas watch party tonight at a neat little (well, big) bar called Cape Buffalo. Unable to find seats at a table in the main bar area, my crew made their way to a small area with nice comfy couches. When we sat down, I noticed a cute family off to my right. They looked SUPER familiar but I just could not place them for the life of me. Did I babysit for their daughter? No. Did I work with the husband/father? No. Had I seen the wife/mother in a mall? No.
Well, I was in a Husker bar afterall, so I was sure I had bumped into them in Lincoln at some point in my life.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't know these people in real life. I knew them from TV! WE tv to be exact. They were from freaking BRIDEZILLAS!!
A couple of months ago, my coworker and I were talking about Bridezillas. I mentioned that I am absolutely obsessed with WE tv and Bridezillas and she mentioned that she had a friend who was on the show. So, she found the webisode for me and we watched together after work one day. The whole episode looked so familiar and I was sure I'd seen it before (I'm awesome and watch reruns over and over again.).
Anyway, my coworker's friends are the Brizezilla people that were at the bar! And I, with all of my premium cable knowledge, RECOGNIZED THEM.
Small freaking world.
Friday, November 12, 2010
What I've Learned...
Well friends, I've done it. I have been in the great state of Texas for almost five months now. I didn't think I would make it this far. In fact, I almost didn't. Although I appeared happy-go-lucky for the first few weeks here (ha, ha!) I was actually miserable.
Mind you, this was the first time I have been away from Nebraska for more than two weeks in my entire life. And I'm not going to bullshit you: IT'S BEEN SCARY AS SHIT. Moving away to college was much, MUCH easier because you have built-in friends at the dorms. In college, I met some of my best friends while brushing my teeth in the community bathroom. But here, I actually have to leave my house in order to make friends. Quite terrifying to say the least.
After getting over my initial culture shock (and missing my family and friends terribly!), I've actually enjoyed myself. I work a lot on weekends, so I haven't had much of an opportunity to experience the full flavor of Dallas. But since moving here, I've been compiling a list of things I've learned/seen/done. So I thought I would share them with my oh-so-faithful readers.
1. Driving Nightmare!
We have roads that look like this here:
I come from a place where roads look like this:
(Okay, not QUITE like this. I think this might be a desert.)
There are sometimes, when I'm trying to merge onto a freeway, that I literally close my eyes and veer left, hoping for the best. Oh, and did I mention that I drive a Grand Prix. I LOVE my car, but everyone down here drives a BMW/Lexus/Batmobile. Do you know how much pressure is on me to drive less ignorant down here? If I hit the freaking Batmobile, my insurance will drop me because repairing one headlight costs more than all of my college loans combined.
2. Watch out for old women!
You know how highways have marquees to tell you if a child is missing and what not (Amber alerts, I think they're called)? Well, down here, the only signs I ever see are "Missing Elderly Woman" signs. For some reason, elderly men never go missing. But watch out for those elderly women! The signs don't have descriptions of the missing elderly woman on them, so how the heck am I supposed to spot her? Do I report any and every elderly woman who looks lost? And how do I report if they don't give me a phone number? And, the biggest question, how does someone misplace their grandmother? Watch her ass. It's not like she's going to BOLT out the door.
3. There are Huskers EVERYWHERE.
I repeat: There are Huskers EVERYWHERE. Last night, I went over to Fort Worth to work a TCU volleyball. I started chit-chatting with the official scorekeeper and it's like she spotted me and KNEW I was a Nebraskan. It's like we bonded without ever saying we were born and raised in Nebraska. She said something about how she reffed some games for Chadron State a few months ago. We chit-chatted about Chadron State and her family in Western Nebraska until I realized, "Oh my gosh, I'm from Nebraska, too!" So then I mentioned I was from Nebraska and then we all of a sudden had so much in common.
Oh, and not to mention the time I was in Norman, Oklahoma, for a football game a few months ago. I was wearing a Husker Alumni shirt (no, I didn't wear THAT to a Sooners game) and some lady came up to me and asked me where I was from. Come to find out, her dad (or was it grandpa?) built the church I grew up in. I'm telling you, Nebraskans are freaking everywhere. And they can sense other Nebraskans around them. It's weird.
4. I prefer cowboys.
Before I moved to Texas, I was a businessman sort of gal. Love me some men who wear suits and ties to work every day. All of that has changed down here. Give me a man who works with his hands on a ranch all day. Now I'm prowling for cowboys. There is something so damn sexy about a Texas cowboy. It's like they're more legit than Nebraska cowboys (even though I know that's not the truth). But everytime I see a guy in a Cowboy hat, I think to myself, "Could this guy be the next George Strait?" Even if he's missing all of his teeth and half of his hair, I'm still drawn like a moth to a flame.
Okay, that's my list for now. Sorry it's only a list of four items. I decided if I go any longer, I might completely bore you to death. (Well, actually, my lunch break is up and I don't want to appear to be a slacker.) I'll add more items at a later date.
Thank you all for your love and support on my journey!
Mind you, this was the first time I have been away from Nebraska for more than two weeks in my entire life. And I'm not going to bullshit you: IT'S BEEN SCARY AS SHIT. Moving away to college was much, MUCH easier because you have built-in friends at the dorms. In college, I met some of my best friends while brushing my teeth in the community bathroom. But here, I actually have to leave my house in order to make friends. Quite terrifying to say the least.
After getting over my initial culture shock (and missing my family and friends terribly!), I've actually enjoyed myself. I work a lot on weekends, so I haven't had much of an opportunity to experience the full flavor of Dallas. But since moving here, I've been compiling a list of things I've learned/seen/done. So I thought I would share them with my oh-so-faithful readers.
1. Driving Nightmare!
We have roads that look like this here:
I come from a place where roads look like this:
(Okay, not QUITE like this. I think this might be a desert.)There are sometimes, when I'm trying to merge onto a freeway, that I literally close my eyes and veer left, hoping for the best. Oh, and did I mention that I drive a Grand Prix. I LOVE my car, but everyone down here drives a BMW/Lexus/Batmobile. Do you know how much pressure is on me to drive less ignorant down here? If I hit the freaking Batmobile, my insurance will drop me because repairing one headlight costs more than all of my college loans combined.
2. Watch out for old women!
You know how highways have marquees to tell you if a child is missing and what not (Amber alerts, I think they're called)? Well, down here, the only signs I ever see are "Missing Elderly Woman" signs. For some reason, elderly men never go missing. But watch out for those elderly women! The signs don't have descriptions of the missing elderly woman on them, so how the heck am I supposed to spot her? Do I report any and every elderly woman who looks lost? And how do I report if they don't give me a phone number? And, the biggest question, how does someone misplace their grandmother? Watch her ass. It's not like she's going to BOLT out the door.
3. There are Huskers EVERYWHERE.
I repeat: There are Huskers EVERYWHERE. Last night, I went over to Fort Worth to work a TCU volleyball. I started chit-chatting with the official scorekeeper and it's like she spotted me and KNEW I was a Nebraskan. It's like we bonded without ever saying we were born and raised in Nebraska. She said something about how she reffed some games for Chadron State a few months ago. We chit-chatted about Chadron State and her family in Western Nebraska until I realized, "Oh my gosh, I'm from Nebraska, too!" So then I mentioned I was from Nebraska and then we all of a sudden had so much in common.
Oh, and not to mention the time I was in Norman, Oklahoma, for a football game a few months ago. I was wearing a Husker Alumni shirt (no, I didn't wear THAT to a Sooners game) and some lady came up to me and asked me where I was from. Come to find out, her dad (or was it grandpa?) built the church I grew up in. I'm telling you, Nebraskans are freaking everywhere. And they can sense other Nebraskans around them. It's weird.
4. I prefer cowboys.
Before I moved to Texas, I was a businessman sort of gal. Love me some men who wear suits and ties to work every day. All of that has changed down here. Give me a man who works with his hands on a ranch all day. Now I'm prowling for cowboys. There is something so damn sexy about a Texas cowboy. It's like they're more legit than Nebraska cowboys (even though I know that's not the truth). But everytime I see a guy in a Cowboy hat, I think to myself, "Could this guy be the next George Strait?" Even if he's missing all of his teeth and half of his hair, I'm still drawn like a moth to a flame.
Okay, that's my list for now. Sorry it's only a list of four items. I decided if I go any longer, I might completely bore you to death. (Well, actually, my lunch break is up and I don't want to appear to be a slacker.) I'll add more items at a later date.
Thank you all for your love and support on my journey!
Friday, November 5, 2010
Friday Blues
It's Friday. TGIF, right? But for some reason I kind of feel like singing the Friday blues. I don't mean that figuratively, I mean that quite literally. In about two seconds, I may pounce on this desk and play fake air guitar while I sing about how I feel like a stroke victim today. I don't mean that in a mean way. I just haven't been able to see straight all day because the sun glared into my eye balls for the first two hours of work. I keep seeing these little black and yellow patches everywhere I look (and it's been about seven hours...maybe I should get that checked out).
But in all seriousness, I think that there might be something wrong with me. Like I've been watching too much Glee. For some reason, I have this continuous urge to belt out in song. Last night I even turned my urge into reality. My roommie's dog kept whining at me and I had zero idea what he wanted from me. So, at the top of my lungs, I belted out "What do you want from me?" by Adam Lambert. Needless-to-say, the dog stopped his whining and hid in a corner, probably deathly afraid of me and my terrible voice.
Not to mention I have had the Glee themesong stuck in my head for three weeks straight. Dododododododododd. See, it's still there! I have no idea what to do. I think I may need to go to a looney bin.
Hmm...other than me clearly being obsessed with Glee, I've made a BIG change in my life. I am completely and 100 percent DONE WITH TWITTER. Well, me personally. I still have to Tweet for work, but my Goldschwager account is gone. Finished. And I am not sad at all. It seems like the Twitter world has sure missed me because I've had SO many people wondering where I've been. Yeah, not at all. Seriously people, you really didn't notice I left? I've wasted so much effing time tweeting and you can't even tell me goodbye! Bullshit.
At first I thought Twitter was pretty cool. I could follow all of the celebs that I so dearly loved. And then I realized that celebs are stupid. For instance, I used to love Kim Kardashian before I started following her on Twitter. Now I think she sucks. She has like 1 billion followers and she tweets about the dumbest shit. Do I really care that she wore a stupid Little Red Riding Hood costume for Halloween? No, no I don't. How freaking original. She should take a page out of Heidi Klum's book and go as something really kick ass (seriously, Heidi rocks - Google her Halloween costume from this year.) If I had unlimited amounts of money, I sure as shit wouldn't go as Little Red Riding Hood. That's just insane.
I realized that since I don't care about someone as famous as Kim Kardashian, then who the hell cared about my insignificant tweets? That's right, NO ONE DOES! And I don't care about yours either. When I want news, I'll tune into other, more reliable websites. And when I want to hear what you're eating for breakfast, I'll text you and ask.
I'm signing off now after my Friday blues/Twitter rampage. Enjoy your weekends folks! And instead of Tweeting about how awesome your life is, can you just go out and have a real-life awesome life? Thanks.
But in all seriousness, I think that there might be something wrong with me. Like I've been watching too much Glee. For some reason, I have this continuous urge to belt out in song. Last night I even turned my urge into reality. My roommie's dog kept whining at me and I had zero idea what he wanted from me. So, at the top of my lungs, I belted out "What do you want from me?" by Adam Lambert. Needless-to-say, the dog stopped his whining and hid in a corner, probably deathly afraid of me and my terrible voice.
Not to mention I have had the Glee themesong stuck in my head for three weeks straight. Dododododododododd. See, it's still there! I have no idea what to do. I think I may need to go to a looney bin.
Hmm...other than me clearly being obsessed with Glee, I've made a BIG change in my life. I am completely and 100 percent DONE WITH TWITTER. Well, me personally. I still have to Tweet for work, but my Goldschwager account is gone. Finished. And I am not sad at all. It seems like the Twitter world has sure missed me because I've had SO many people wondering where I've been. Yeah, not at all. Seriously people, you really didn't notice I left? I've wasted so much effing time tweeting and you can't even tell me goodbye! Bullshit.
At first I thought Twitter was pretty cool. I could follow all of the celebs that I so dearly loved. And then I realized that celebs are stupid. For instance, I used to love Kim Kardashian before I started following her on Twitter. Now I think she sucks. She has like 1 billion followers and she tweets about the dumbest shit. Do I really care that she wore a stupid Little Red Riding Hood costume for Halloween? No, no I don't. How freaking original. She should take a page out of Heidi Klum's book and go as something really kick ass (seriously, Heidi rocks - Google her Halloween costume from this year.) If I had unlimited amounts of money, I sure as shit wouldn't go as Little Red Riding Hood. That's just insane.
I realized that since I don't care about someone as famous as Kim Kardashian, then who the hell cared about my insignificant tweets? That's right, NO ONE DOES! And I don't care about yours either. When I want news, I'll tune into other, more reliable websites. And when I want to hear what you're eating for breakfast, I'll text you and ask.
I'm signing off now after my Friday blues/Twitter rampage. Enjoy your weekends folks! And instead of Tweeting about how awesome your life is, can you just go out and have a real-life awesome life? Thanks.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Up In The Air
You may have noticed I've been M.I.A. for a while on jessandjacy.blogspot.com. I'm sure you don't give two beehives where I've been, but I'm going to tell you anyway: I've been on Jessica's Midwest Travel Tour (coming to a city near you). In the past week and two days, I've made my way to Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Texas and am currently in Oklahoma. And I am exhausted. I'm pretty sure if I closed my eyes right now, I could sleep for weeks. But I'm not going to do that. "Just keep running," as my nephew would say.
The thing I've learned most over the past few days is that I could never, ever be like George Clooney's character in Up In The Air. I've seen that movie a few times and thought I could relate to him. I absolutely love staying in hotels, so I thought he had the best life ever. I mean, come on, maid service 24-7? I'd never have to pick up after myself again. However, the actual travel part blows with a capital B.
After traveling through DFW, MCI, OMA and OKC in a matter of days, I cannot STAND airports. I hate the stink. I hate the people. I hate security. I hate feeling all sticky/sweaty/greasy after spending all of 12 minutes in an airport. I hate the 13-year-old zits I have acquired since spending 12 minutes in the airport. I hate shuttles. I hate parking. But most of all, I HATE RENTAL CARS.
Case-in-point: A situation like today's. Traveling went fine. (Well, minus the part where I went to Starbucks in the terminal to get an iced green tea UNSWEETENED and they gave me a damn SWEETENED green tea. disgusting. Also, why do they call terminals terminals? That's a very scary thought. Terminal diseases are very scary. I'm probably going to Google that.) But things were not so super when my travel group loaded up in our rental: A brand new Toyota Prius. The car looked great. It had great features, a great hatchback.
However, the actual driving part wasn't so great. In fact, it never happened. We piled into the vehicle, only to find out none of us knew how to reverse the damn thing out of its parking spot. I drive a small boat around Dallas, so I know nothing of this thing called "fuel efficiency." But evidently Priuses (or Prii?) are fuel efficient. After scouting out my first one today, I've decided they're driving inefficient. Any car that quiet can't be trusted.
We pulled out the car's manual, trying to find a solution. Then I whipped out my smartphone to Google "how to reverse a prius out of a parking stall." But no avail. So, we all exited the vehicle and made our way back to the Heartz desk to ask for a different Toyota model.
This isn't my first bad encounter with rental cars though. In fact, my first experience driving a rental car made me swear off ever driving one again. A couple of Aprils ago, while I was on my first NCAA National Gymnastics trip to Stanford, I had an epic rental car FAIL.
I had made my way with the gymnastics team to Stanford's gymnasium for practice. I could have just stayed at the hotel, but decided to check out practice instead. Not to be unprofessional here, but what 20-year-old girl wouldn't want to sit in the stands and watch boys with no shirts on do extremely flexible and strong gymnastics moves? Hot. Mid-way through my gymnastics trance, one of the coaches threw me a set of car keys and asked if I would drive back to the hotel to print off the event sheets. Since I was being a worthless and somewhat perverted pile, I agreed to the task.
I had only driven a minivan one other time in my life. And I'd never driven a rental van period. Nor had I ever driven in Palo Alto, California. NOR did I have any inkling on how to get back to the hotel. But I was trying to be that cool chick who knew how to drive and navigate, so I accepted the task blindly. I probably should have turned back and made one of the assistant coaches go to the hotel after I had driven three miles in the wrong direction. But instead I stopped at a gas station and asked directions to the hotel and found my way in great shape.
However, this is the part that gets hairy. Parking. I've never been a great parker at all. Once I backed into a car in a highly populated area after a Kenny Chesney concert and drove away. And I can't count the number of times I've hit lightpoles with my rear bumper. But this time was different. This time, I decided to try my hand at parking in an underground parking lot beneath the hotel. All was going well...no cars to speak of in the parking lot, so I thought I was home free.....
UNTIL I SIDE-SWIPED A FREAKING POLE WITH THE RENTAL VAN! And it wasn't a little tiny side-swipe. I'm talking a huge, drunk-kid-crashed-his-car-into-a-telephone-pole side-swipe. I heard the pole hit the car (because the car didn't hit the pole... that would make me a bad driver...that pole came out of NOWHERE!) so I backed the car up, only to hear the pole hit the car again. By this time, I had picked up my cell phone and called the only person I could think of... my pops. HE would know what to do! Dad normally wouldn't answer the phone in the middle of the afternoon, but he was in for his half-hour break to watch Judge Judy. I could sense his anger when he answered the phone. Our convo went something like this...
"Dadddddyyyy, what are you doingggg," me asking my father what he was up to, while I was sobbing my eyes out.
"I'm watching Judge Judy, why?" My dad sounding very pissed off here because I was bugging him.
"I, I, I need your help (insert sniffing and sobbing here)" - Me
"Jessica, is everything okay," Dad paused the Judge and sounded very concerned.
"Well...I hit a pole hit my carrrrrr (sobbing and whining here)," -Me
"You DID WHAT?! Where are you?"-Dad
"I'm in Palo Alto," - Me
"Is that close to Lincoln," -Dad
"I dunno...California's quite a ways from Nebraska...." - Me
"Oh J*s*s C*r*st, Jess, what do you want me to do about it? How bad is it? You pulled me away from Judge Judy for this?!!?!?!" -Dad irritated at me.
After a nice long convo with my dad, he decided that I needed to own up to my mishap. So I summoned the courage to sheepishly tell the coaches what I had done. I found my way back to the gymnasium (and yes, I did manage to print off the sheets they had asked for) and walked my tear-stained face in to explain the situation. While two of the coaches laughed their asses off, the third was not to quick to smile. Evidently, the van was under his name instead of the University's name (like the other two rental cars). Sooo, any damage done to the van was on HIS insurance instead of the University's policy. Go figure.
All worked out okay. Luckily, Cali is full of autobody shops, so the coach sweet talked some guy into helping him pop out the dent and repaint the scrapes. The rental car company never knew. I got grief from all 14 gymnasts and a handful of coaches and trainers, but I lived to tell the tale.
On that note, I'm going to bed. I say goodbye to Stillwater tomorrow and head back to Dallas in the morning. Goodnight all!
The thing I've learned most over the past few days is that I could never, ever be like George Clooney's character in Up In The Air. I've seen that movie a few times and thought I could relate to him. I absolutely love staying in hotels, so I thought he had the best life ever. I mean, come on, maid service 24-7? I'd never have to pick up after myself again. However, the actual travel part blows with a capital B.
After traveling through DFW, MCI, OMA and OKC in a matter of days, I cannot STAND airports. I hate the stink. I hate the people. I hate security. I hate feeling all sticky/sweaty/greasy after spending all of 12 minutes in an airport. I hate the 13-year-old zits I have acquired since spending 12 minutes in the airport. I hate shuttles. I hate parking. But most of all, I HATE RENTAL CARS.
Case-in-point: A situation like today's. Traveling went fine. (Well, minus the part where I went to Starbucks in the terminal to get an iced green tea UNSWEETENED and they gave me a damn SWEETENED green tea. disgusting. Also, why do they call terminals terminals? That's a very scary thought. Terminal diseases are very scary. I'm probably going to Google that.) But things were not so super when my travel group loaded up in our rental: A brand new Toyota Prius. The car looked great. It had great features, a great hatchback.
However, the actual driving part wasn't so great. In fact, it never happened. We piled into the vehicle, only to find out none of us knew how to reverse the damn thing out of its parking spot. I drive a small boat around Dallas, so I know nothing of this thing called "fuel efficiency." But evidently Priuses (or Prii?) are fuel efficient. After scouting out my first one today, I've decided they're driving inefficient. Any car that quiet can't be trusted.
We pulled out the car's manual, trying to find a solution. Then I whipped out my smartphone to Google "how to reverse a prius out of a parking stall." But no avail. So, we all exited the vehicle and made our way back to the Heartz desk to ask for a different Toyota model.
This isn't my first bad encounter with rental cars though. In fact, my first experience driving a rental car made me swear off ever driving one again. A couple of Aprils ago, while I was on my first NCAA National Gymnastics trip to Stanford, I had an epic rental car FAIL.
I had made my way with the gymnastics team to Stanford's gymnasium for practice. I could have just stayed at the hotel, but decided to check out practice instead. Not to be unprofessional here, but what 20-year-old girl wouldn't want to sit in the stands and watch boys with no shirts on do extremely flexible and strong gymnastics moves? Hot. Mid-way through my gymnastics trance, one of the coaches threw me a set of car keys and asked if I would drive back to the hotel to print off the event sheets. Since I was being a worthless and somewhat perverted pile, I agreed to the task.
I had only driven a minivan one other time in my life. And I'd never driven a rental van period. Nor had I ever driven in Palo Alto, California. NOR did I have any inkling on how to get back to the hotel. But I was trying to be that cool chick who knew how to drive and navigate, so I accepted the task blindly. I probably should have turned back and made one of the assistant coaches go to the hotel after I had driven three miles in the wrong direction. But instead I stopped at a gas station and asked directions to the hotel and found my way in great shape.
However, this is the part that gets hairy. Parking. I've never been a great parker at all. Once I backed into a car in a highly populated area after a Kenny Chesney concert and drove away. And I can't count the number of times I've hit lightpoles with my rear bumper. But this time was different. This time, I decided to try my hand at parking in an underground parking lot beneath the hotel. All was going well...no cars to speak of in the parking lot, so I thought I was home free.....
UNTIL I SIDE-SWIPED A FREAKING POLE WITH THE RENTAL VAN! And it wasn't a little tiny side-swipe. I'm talking a huge, drunk-kid-crashed-his-car-into-a-telephone-pole side-swipe. I heard the pole hit the car (because the car didn't hit the pole... that would make me a bad driver...that pole came out of NOWHERE!) so I backed the car up, only to hear the pole hit the car again. By this time, I had picked up my cell phone and called the only person I could think of... my pops. HE would know what to do! Dad normally wouldn't answer the phone in the middle of the afternoon, but he was in for his half-hour break to watch Judge Judy. I could sense his anger when he answered the phone. Our convo went something like this...
"Dadddddyyyy, what are you doingggg," me asking my father what he was up to, while I was sobbing my eyes out.
"I'm watching Judge Judy, why?" My dad sounding very pissed off here because I was bugging him.
"I, I, I need your help (insert sniffing and sobbing here)" - Me
"Jessica, is everything okay," Dad paused the Judge and sounded very concerned.
"Well...I hit a pole hit my carrrrrr (sobbing and whining here)," -Me
"You DID WHAT?! Where are you?"-Dad
"I'm in Palo Alto," - Me
"Is that close to Lincoln," -Dad
"I dunno...California's quite a ways from Nebraska...." - Me
"Oh J*s*s C*r*st, Jess, what do you want me to do about it? How bad is it? You pulled me away from Judge Judy for this?!!?!?!" -Dad irritated at me.
After a nice long convo with my dad, he decided that I needed to own up to my mishap. So I summoned the courage to sheepishly tell the coaches what I had done. I found my way back to the gymnasium (and yes, I did manage to print off the sheets they had asked for) and walked my tear-stained face in to explain the situation. While two of the coaches laughed their asses off, the third was not to quick to smile. Evidently, the van was under his name instead of the University's name (like the other two rental cars). Sooo, any damage done to the van was on HIS insurance instead of the University's policy. Go figure.
All worked out okay. Luckily, Cali is full of autobody shops, so the coach sweet talked some guy into helping him pop out the dent and repaint the scrapes. The rental car company never knew. I got grief from all 14 gymnasts and a handful of coaches and trainers, but I lived to tell the tale.
On that note, I'm going to bed. I say goodbye to Stillwater tomorrow and head back to Dallas in the morning. Goodnight all!
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