my family in a nutshell. they are all nuts living in a tiny shell.

Okay, so some things happened lately that would just describe my family perfectly. Once again, if you don't know my dad, this probably won't be funny. But from the previous stories I've told, you can kind of get the picture about what kind of person he is.

The following events are true:

I explained what happened about the bees nest and how my dad just barged in on them and destroyed their home. And how he said "he was too fast for the bees" but yet was stung four times. So this is what happened tonight. Now, I have not seen my dad since it happened, but Sally and her fiance told me tonight that while I was at work, he decided to go back and snip the trees yet again, (because it seems like such a good idea to go back for round 2), and the bee stung him in the EYE. They were explaining that his eye "swelled out to here" and how "it was swollen shut" and here I am feeling like an asshole for saying that I don't feel bad at all. I really had no sympathy for him because WHO THE HELL BEATS THE SAME BEEHIVE TWICE IN A ROW?! Come on now, people. Like he really probably thought "oh there are no bees around that tree anymore, they probably all went away to find a new home." No, dad. You know what they did? They WAITED for you to come back. You probably killed their cousin or their brother while you were snipping these tree branches while you were humming "In the Summertime" by Mungo Jerry in your gym shorts (with your jockeys hanging out) and that ten year old visor and they simply wanted their revenge. They were probably like "Hey, get a load of this guy."

This is the guy that I blatantly saw take his shirt off (in front of the mirror in the middle of our living room, where we, you know, live), turn it INSIDE OUT, and then proceed to put it back on. It's like "oh hell, who needs to do LAUNDRY when you know how to turn shit INSIDE OUT!?!? It buys you an extra WEEK."

This is probably the same reason why my dad does not know HOW to do laundry. Just sayin.


So on to humiliate someone else.

Sally was driving us home the other day, and I can't stress enough that she is 26 years old, a first grade teacher, and just got engaged. Keep that in mind when I tell the following story.

Sally's driving. I'm in the passenger seat. All of a sudden, I see her sticking her hand out the window. I do this all the time, you know, in the summer when the weather is nice. But there was something different about the way she did it. I watched as her hand was "flicking" something. So I said, "What are you doing?!" and she simply replies with "I have a booger that I can't get rid of." So, of course I start cracking up, because like, I pick my nose all the time, but not IN FRONT of people. So as she's frantically flicking her fingers outside of the window, she is explaining how "there is still stuff up there" pointing to her nose.

"SEE, Jen?!" she would say as she pointed to her nose. "I got STUFF in there."

When she finally got rid of this treasure that she picked and flung out the window, it occurred to me that some ant was probably just chilling on the side of the road and got SMASHED by this mega booger. Like a meteor.


My God, this is exhausting.


-Jenny

That building with no windows says "adults only!" that's where we want to go!

So. Today Lucy took Schroeder and I on an adventure. She said it was a surprise, so we were obviously scared. We were also scared because of her driving. So we had no idea where we were going, and we had been driving for about an hour. Of course, Schroeder (in the front seat) and I (back seat) were texting the entire time.

These are actual texts:

Schroeder: "What the (bad word) kind of decrepit shithole is she taking us to?!"
Me: "I don't know, but we're gonna get raped either way."

and then:

Schroeder: "If we're going to a vineyard I'm going to bury Lucy under it."
Me: "If she asks us if we want to stop at another mcdonalds ONE MORE TIME I'm going to order a supersized SHUT THE HELL UP."
Schroeder: "Haha, I'm gonna tell her yes cause I need a coffee if we're going to drive all night."

and so it went.

So we're driving driving driving and we pass the Newport Storm Brewery. With my face glued to the window, I instantly wished we were there. So I said, "Oh man! A brewery! So cool." and Lucy then said "What?! Where did you see that?" and I said "The Newport Storm Brewery was back there, we just passed it. Wait. Is that where we're going?!" and apparently, it was.

So we took a tour and learned all about brewing beer. The guy that was giving the tour was talking about how much he drinks on the job, and of course I instantly wondered A) how weird is that, and B) why the HELL don't I work here?

Anyway, we got to sample four different beers of theirs, and this is what happened on the ride home. He was mad because the radio DJ had interrupted his song with a laugh.

So after we got home, my dad decides to tell a story about his day. Which is always interesting in its own way. So while he was trimming every goddamned tree in our yard, apparently he destroyed the home of some bees. I mean WHAT?! Bees live in TREES?! So he's up on this ladder I guess, and they start swarming him. There were about "a thousand bees coming at me" so he started to run. The funny thing is, he said these exact words. "I was too fast for them." Here's an even funnier thing. He was stung four times in four different places. I've only seen my dad run about two times in my 23 years of living. Once was when he set the entire woods on fire, and the other time was when he forgot he was cooking on the grill. So apparently he pissed off these bees and then later on in the day, when everyone was home, he decided to revisit it. Let me remind you that, there were still a shitload of bees swarming around the ladder he was on. But what should we do? Keep trimming the tree, that's what we should do. Oh, my 9 year old cousin is here? No dad, keep whacking that beehive, it's just such a good idea.

Anyway, here's this:

Okay, so it may be true. But it's not like they have to rub it in. God damn you, Snapple caps of beer.

-Jenny

Should I be worried that my dad is reading a story I wrote?

Okay so. I had to explain to my mother last night something very uncomfortable. I know certain people read this and I feel like I cannot say what it is, but it is not a conversation you would want to have with your mom. But anyways, when THAT was done, it reminded me of the time where my sister Lucy explained to my grandmother what a "Dutch Oven" was. It's funny because she did this by choice. She really thought my grandmother should know what a "Dutch Oven" was. First issue: Grammie doesn't CARE. Like she's really going to share a blanket with..(let's say my nine year old cousin), fart, and then pull the blankets over my cousins head and ignore her screams. Second issue: YOU JOYOUSLY TOLD OUR GRANDMOTHER ABOUT KILLING PEOPLE WITH FARTS!

It's funny. I would just imagine a lot of awkwardness in that conversation.

"Hey Grammie, speaking of Dutch Ovens, listen to THIS."

I was trying to tell somebody today at work that I was "really bad at Scrabble." Which I am. Like, when I play Scrabble, sometimes retards wearing helmets and licking their shoulders come in and say "hey, that word rocks, but it's only three letters. Why don't you try this one? It's worth 10 billion points whereas yours is only worth 4."

But when I was telling him how bad I am at Scrabble, he replied with "Don't you have a degree in English?!"

Then I said, "Yes."

Then he looked at me funny for a really long time. Then I said, "It's MISLEADING, isn't it?"

And that was that.

Because honestly, every time I play, nobody wants me on their team. And then when I get "stuck" with someone, they don't listen to me when I spat out stupid words that are only 2-4 points. I can't say I blame them. I wouldn't listen to a borderline degenerate either. Which is why I never listen to Schroeder. OH.

I was never really good at words. Yes, I know what an adjective is. I know what a noun is. I know what a proper noun is. I know what a verb is. But so doesn't everybody else above the age of 4. I still do not know what a goddamn adverb is. And all that "subject" and "predicate" of a sentence? That shit always turned my brain into scrambled eggs. But in my defense, I'm sort of smart in Literature sort of English. Call me stupid in putting together large words for points, but I will Edgar Allan Poe the SHIT out of all y'all.

Haha, here is another one.

Anyway. That is all.

-Jenny

"I just farted, picked my nose, and burped, all within 35 seconds. I love being a guy."

So today, all me and Sally did was watch Jersey Shore DVDs and drink wine. Then I went to work.

The other day was funny, because, Sally and I were talking about Sylvia Plath. I know everybody makes suicide jokes about her, but I am a really big fan. So I tell Sally that she committed suicide by sticking her head in the oven. And all Sally has to say is this:

"You mean she COOKED her HEAD?!"

Oh yeah Sally, didn't anyone tell you? One day Sylvia Plath was all like "you know what? I bet my head would make a really good cake! I'm just gonna pre heat the oven to 375 and see what happens. Come and eat, kids!"

So anyway. This is what I do on NHL '11. It's pretty intimidating if you ask me. I kick people's asses. I make them wish they were never born. I put their elbows where their knees should be.

So it's hard being the best. So when I start a season on this game, I do really well. But the game senses when I'm doing really well, because then it freezes and all my shit is erased. You know, if it happened only once, I'd understand. It's a disc, maybe there's a scratch or a smudge or WHATEVER. But no, I think it's happened.....oh I dunno....7  times? I keep having to start over and I can just feel the game LAUGHING at me. I would imagine the game to have a stupid clown laugh. Like the clown at the mini golf course in Happy Gilmore. After it erases all the progress I have made, I think about how much I want to take the disc and break it in half over my knee. Then I realize that I've already done this in the past. Friggin Tony Hawk's Pro Skater Underground for PS2. The game was scratched to oblivion. One day I just had enough and I SNAPPED that disc CLEAN in HALF. Only, breaking a disc seems easy, but it's really not. I struggled with it for a good 10 minutes. I'm glad there were no witnesses. Because seeing a heated grown woman try and snap a simple disc in half and NOT succeeding is just really sad.

Once I finally broke it, which wasn't the way I had planned, I threw it in the trash, flipped it off, and said, "Hate you, Bitch." And then the next day I went out and bought a new copy.

Anyway. My dad was raking TREES today. Yeah. Trees. Because you know, they need a good combing every now and then.

Here is my boyfriend and he is very special.

Two suggestions.

Song: Incubus "I Miss You."
Poem: Sylvia Plath "Mirror"

Do it.

-Jenny.

My sister draws like a first grader.

So last post I wrote a little bit about my dad in his underwear. But alas! I forgot to mention THIS.

A few weeks ago I was up late. When I finally decided to go to bed, I went into the bathroom first to brush my teeth and pee. When I was in the middle of brushing my teeth, I hear some stirring in my parent's room and then a gentle knock on the bathroom door. Then, my dad pushes the door open and he is standing there, of course, in his whitie tighties and squinting from the light. He looked like a 10 year old getting up to pee in the middle of the night.

Then he says, "oh, hey Jen. I need the bathroom for a quick sec."

And here I am, with my toothbrush in my mouth, saying "okay dad" and then having him burst into the bathroom without waiting for me to finish. He just shoved past me like I wasn't even there. I could have sworn in the midst of his bathroom urgency, if I hadn't gotten out fast enough, he would have gone anyway. But luckily, I got out. And never turned back.

So I realized today that I was in fact wearing a tie dye shirt, ripped jean shorts, and shoes that had a pattern that did not match anything. I think this means I am a hippie. All that was missing was a flower in my hair and the name of "Cloud" to go by. Oh yeah, and a nice pair of Jesus sandals. And a blank space where my brain should be. And a Volkswagen Bus from 1970.

I worked with someone tonight that had a horrible case of "SMELLING LIKE ASSHOLE". By "asshole", I mean "B.O." The whole night that's all I could focus on, and I had these visions of me screaming "HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF SPEED STICK!? MY GOD, YOU ARE TWENTY YEARS OLD." But then when I got home, I started getting paranoid that maybe it was me. But I'm pretty sure it was him. He is a gross boy.

So my sister Sally left me a note the other morning. She is 26 years old, just got engaged, and is also a first grade teacher. This is a picture she drew, asking me if I wanted to hang in the pool with her that day.

As you can see, she has not only labeled her and I, but she has labeled my "short hair", like it was a person of its own. I also can't help but notice that I have some sort of Ace Ventura hairstyle going on. Also, I told her that I "look like I'm asleep" and she said "how on earth does it look like you're sleeping?" and I said "because you drew a short line when there should be a dot. That's a closed eye"

When I asked her what the BOX was, that I was holding, she replied with, "that's a beer." It doesn't look like a beer to me.

This picture amuses me and scares me at the same time. It amuses me obviously because our bodies look like those balloon animals that retards make at carnivals. And it scares me because this woman is teaching the youth of America. We are leaving our six year olds with this woman everyday, in hopes that they will learn something from her. Hopefully she is not teaching them how to draw. I've seen some of the drawings that her students do.....and they look exactly like her drawings.


So I friggin HATE the Foo Fighters. But I suggest everyone listen to the song "Home". It will give you a good feeling. I promise.

-Jenny.

"What the hell is in my belly button?! Bird crap?!"

So you know what's funny? The fact that I see my dad in his underwear more than I see him dressed. I've caught him in his underwear in pretty much every room of the house. It's funny because he decides to change in the dining room most of the time. Which is out in the open. Sometimes, if you DON'T catch him changing in the dining room, you'll see the aftermath, such as his pants on the floor.

The funniest thing is, is that he does underwear situps. On the floor of his room, with the door wide open. I mean, Schroeder happened to be going to the bathroom at the wrong time, saw dad ON THE FLOOR in his UNDERWEAR and thought he was having a heart attack. Which, to me, is completely understandable. But no, dad was just doing half naked situps.

I mean, I do weird shit all the time too. But I have the brains to shut the goddamn door.

So we got this cooler float, that floats around the pool and stuff. It's obviously made for beer. So Sally's boyfriend, well, now fiance, put a bunch of beers in the cooler and put it in the pool. But we weren't in the pool, we were just sitting by it. So when he wanted a beer, he would wait for it to make its round. Like, "oh it's on the other side of the pool, i'll wait for it to come back closer to this side."

It was here that I realized how different he treated the beer float cooler than Schroeder and I did. Here is why:

While Sally's fiance waits for the beer float cooler to make it around the pool when he wants another one, Schroeder and I are actually IN the pool, and we HOLD ON to it. Like if we don't hold onto it, it will float away. Haha, how far is the thing gonna go?! The SHALLOW end?! Obviously that is too far for us. It's like, "What if we want another beer?! It's ALL THE WAY at the other end of the pool!?! Well, I can't WAIT."

So, this following story will be funnier if you actually know my dad. On saturday night, we were all hanging out outside by the pool. My dad scored a bottle of Limoncello from somewhere unknown, and he poured a shot glass for everyone. So, while I was handed my trusty old Ramones shot glass, Schroeder was right next to me, and he was handed a Mickey Mouse shot glass, about as old as I am. So my dad says this to him, 100% serious:

"Hey, don't break this okay? It's Mickey Mouse."

My dad doesn't care about much in the world, but apparently the shitty Mickey Mouse shot glass makes the cut.

-Jenny

The Catcher in the Rye...or something.

So my sister Sally got engaged. It's really quite a relief to all of us because now we don't have to listen to her constantly dropping hints to her boyfriend. And basically dropping hints to EVERYONE. And maybe (hopefully) we won't have to listen to that goddamn Train song "Marry Me" anymore. We can only hope.

So we have been trying to get her to read "The Catcher in the Rye", and she has been hesitant because the author of it isn't Nora Roberts. Because J.D. Salinger doesn't have SHIT for brains. I knew it wasn't her cup of tea because it doesn't involve the corniest love story ever. The only books Sally reads are by the following authors: Kristin Hannah, Nora Roberts, Jodi Piccoult, Elin Hildebrand, and who could forget, Jennifer Weiner. I'm not saying that the books she reads are stupid, I'm just saying that whoever reads them has fluff where a brain should be. So she took a huge chance and decided to read an actual BOOK. She was probably mad because the book didn't consist of a girl falling in love with a guy and then breaking up with him and then getting back together and then THE END.

That's how every book by the authors I just listed above goes. That's the storyline of each book by those authors. Oh, excuse me Sally, "The Catcher in the Rye" isn't as intelligent as Jennifer Weiner's latest book. Give me a break. She's just mad that it didn't consist of a girl falling in love with a guy who wears too many tweed jackets and Harry Potter glasses and is a high school English teacher who is secretly a ROCK HARD pornstar in the bedroom. This is from one of Nora Roberts' books that I've actually read before but can't remember the title of it on account of THEY ARE ALL THE SAME.

While on the subject, I went out and bought the corniest sounding book for Sally's birthday. Turns out, she has already read it. Go figure. Maybe I should have bought her a real book, such as "The Great Gatsby". But then she would just be like "who in god's name is F. Scott Fitzgerald?!"

and then I would have socked her one.

-Jenny

"Oh, the stanley cup final game is on the NHL network. I'm gonna watch it again and I might cry at the end." AGAIN?!

So it's been a while. I guess all that's really new is that I'm older.

Let's get right into it, shall we?

On my birfday we went out to Plymouth at night for some dranks. It was perfect weather, and we got to sit on the balcony outside. AND, there was this keyboard player who knew all sorts of songs! We requested Elton John and Phil Collins and while he was singing, I was all like "OhmyGod, how awesome would it be if he knew 'Shout' by Tears For Fears?! So, of course, Schroeder and Linus go up and request it, but the guy said he didn't know that one. So you know what he did?! He played "Everybody Wants to Rule the World!" which is almost as good. But not quite. So we were taking pictures and I'd have to say this is the funniest one:

Schroeder thinks he's Superman, I'm acting like a retard (like always), and Lucy looks like she just realized that the Tooth Fairy doesn't exist. "Whaaaaat?" But aren't we the biggest bunch of winners you'd ever seen? And notice how the beers are FULL, not empty.

So on the ride home, Schroeder is driving and we have the windows open. We are stopped at a red light and there is this scraggely looking guy crossing the street in front of us. So of course I decide to yell to Schroder, who is right next to me, "HEY! Is that guy HOMELESS!?!" Then the guy looked at me right then, and gave me some sort of nod. It was then that Schroeder put the windows up and the light turned green.

So my dad was talking to us yesterday, and he was talking about when he was our age. After describing what kind of beers he used to drink from ages 18-30, he said this to Schroeder and I, and I am so not kidding:

"I even used to 'chug' beers. Do you guys know what that means?"

It wouldn't have been so funny maybe if he didn't act like he was hot shit when he said it. He said it like he thought he'd have to explain it to us, and when he did, we would be like "ohmygod THAT'S what chugging a beer is?! And YOU used to do THAT?! Whoa dad, you were crazy." But of course I started cracking up at him and then turned to Schroeder and sarcastically asked "do you know what chugging a beer is?! I just want to make sure." And then we (once again) had a good laugh at the stupid things my dad says.

While we are on the subject of my dad, let me tell a funny little story about something that happened this morning. And by "funny", I mean it really pissed me off. SO, I don't really know why, but my dad has to make the most noise EVER in the morning. When people are sleeping. That's when he makes the most noise imaginable. It doesn't really make sense to me, but then again nothing my dad ever does will ever make the least bit of sense to me. Kind of like when he does sit ups in his underwear.

So anyway, this morning I am awoken by a loud noise coming from outside. Of course it's him, working on his latest project/contraption. The funny thing is, this shit doesn't even need to be done at this time in the morning. He is just doing it because there is something wrong with the way he thinks. So at this point, I roll out of bed and go downstairs. It is here where my dad comes in and says this: "Oh hey Jen. Why are you up so early?"

Sigh.

I will end this blog post with a funnier story, or at least funny to me. You see, Schroeder has this thing where he gets really mad if you are sitting in the passenger seat in his jeep and you throw trash over your shoulder to the back seat. I always thought it was funny. He says it pisses him off because then it "gives him a reason to clean the backseat, which he doesn't want to do." So I kind of gradually stopped doing that, because I guess I kind of understood. Or because he kept punching me when I would do it. Or saying hurtful things. So this morning when we got iced coffees, I crumpled up the straw wrapper and threw it down on the ground of the front seat. When he flipped his shit, I said I "only did it because you said I can't throw it in the backseat." to which he replied with "just throw it out the window like normal people." and then I said "but I don't want to litter." But this scenario reminded us of something that happened a few years ago when I used to throw trash in his car a lot more. And this is what it was:

One time, when he had had enough of my trash throwing, he decided to plant a bag of McDonalds food in my car, under the seat. It took me a while to find it, after a few weeks of realizing that my car (which had a nice strawberry car freshener) had in fact NOT smelled like strawberries, but like the inside of a fat man's stomach. It was like someone had gotten liposuction and put the remains in a bag and put it under my seat. It wasn't really funny then, but when the memory came up today, we laughed. Because making a mess in friend's cars is funny.

If anyone knew what was good for them, they would listen to "Darkness" by Third Eye Blind with in their car with the windows down.

-Jenny