Skinny Jeans are for Skinny People.

I think that a large percentage of the population may have missed this particular memo.  I mean, I guess I had just assumed that everyone would be able to grasp this concept.  Clearly, I have been suffering from an acute case of naiveté.  Apparently, lots of people really need to have this explained very slowly to them.  So from a Not So Skinny person, here’s one for all you mall teenagers, over-forty New Jersey moms, and under-forty New Jersey single women out there who are shaped just like me: Skinny Jeans are for Skinny People. 

There.  Was that clear enough?  Maybe I should go slower… 

S k i n n y  j e a n s  a r e  f o r  s k i n n y  p e o p l e.  Better?  I hope so.  Now, before I elaborate further, let me just say that the fact that you are not a skinny person does not mean that you should dress yourself in a feedsack, or your mom’s old maternity clothes, and hide in a corner for the rest of your life.  That’s not what I’m saying at all.  I, at five feet, six inches tall and a rather round 152 pounds myself, am the last person to be chastising someone about their weight.  All I’m saying is that we of the Not So Skinny demographic need to be aware of our bodies. 

So.  Now that the whole kumbaya-hand-holding-self-affirming-everyone-should-feel-good-about-themselves nonsense is out of the way, let me say that feeling confident and dressing your body to look great is possible at any size.  (Oh my god I sound like O Magazine.  Maybe they want to hire me to write for them!  LaToya, I know you have an in there.  Can you please have their people call my people?  Thanks.)  There are plenty of styles out there that work well for us of the Not So Skinny demographic.  But I hate to break it to you - and I’m going to try and let you down gently here - skinny jeans are not one of them.  And they never will be. 

Just because the latest fall fashion comes tripping down the catwalk on a size-zero supermodel and sweeps the nation like Snowpocalypse 2010 does not mean that it’s for everyone.  There’s a reason those models are so skinny.  I remember when Gap brought back the skinny black pant, and their tv ads all featured an Audrey Hepburn look-alike who cavorted around in her skinny black pants in an Audrey Hepburn-like fashion and looked adorable.  The pants looked great!  And they will look great on you, too.  If you look like Audrey Hepburn.  You may have noticed that the ads did not feature a Rosie O’Donnell look-alike. 

Oh, and just on a side-note, here’s something else that everyone should probably know.  If, when you put your jeans on in the morning, you have to do that weird, jumpy-dance and then lay upside-down on the bed to button them, they do not fit you.  They are too small.  Believe me, I’ve been there. 

So, to sum it all up, Keira Knightly may wear skinny jeans.  Hillary Clinton may not.  (No offense, Madame Secretary.)  Oprah circa 1988- yes.  Oprah circa 2010- no.  Blake Lively (I have no idea who that is but I hear her name all the time so she must be young and skinny)- go for it.  That girl who played what’s-her-name in Hairspray- sorry.  Kristen Stewart- please do.  Martha Stewart- please do not.  That's all.  

There, was that so hard? 

Hyperlinks *UPDATED*

Holy crap I did it!  I made a hyperlink!  Oh, this is going to be fun.  New toy... stay tuned for further link-tastic posts.

Hyperlink?


Creating Hyperlinks

Hold Still, Wallet. This Might Sting a Bit.

This is a first, you guys.  There are still eleven days left until Christmas and 66.6% of my shopping is completed!  (Please note that that sentence included a percentage.  That is actual math that I did all by myself.  Without a calculator.  You may praise me.) 

I decided that this year, instead of scrambling for ideas at the last possible second of Christmas Eve eve (the eve before Christmas Eve, duh) and then sheepishly handing over the last minute gift only partially concealed in the plastic in which it was bagged at the register, I was going to be on top of things and really think about each person I’m buying for.  Giving is, after all, the whole spirit of Christmas.  Of course, I have also picked up one or two small items for myself along the way - a fabulous holiday dress with shoes soon to follow, a blackberry, a miniature build-it-yourself replica of Stonehenge - but it was all on sale (except Stonehenge) so it’s okay.  I love Christmas!!!

An Open Letter to UK Prime Minister David Cameron

Dear Mr. Cameron,

Would you be so kind as to tell me how to gain admittance into your Kingdom?  I wouldn’t be pestering you with this personally, however my attempts to uncover this information myself using the website provided by your government have thus far yielded poor results.  

Currently, there appear to be only a few options available to me for obtaining a work visa.  You seem to think that I am either A) a non-English speaking unskilled laborer whose dearest ambition is to settle in your country for all time and eternity and while away my hours pruning your hedges, minding your children or cleaning your chimneys, B) a wealthy, suave, ridiculously over-qualified and superb English-speaking business mogul/investor, or C) a soccer star.  I mean football star.  Right.  What I call soccer, you call football.  (I’m doing my best to fit in.  See?  I would be a valuable member of your society.)  

I am not any of those things.  I have no interest in permanent residence, nor do I want to steal a good job from one of your own hard-working Britons.  I merely want to come in and poke around for a few weeks, and earn a little money while I’m doing it so that I don‘t starve to death in the street.  If you find me a place at a temp agency, maybe answering phones or filing things in the basement, that’s enough for me. 

You have nothing to fear from my presence.  I don’t want to move into Windsor Castle or anything, nor am I at this very moment scheming to infiltrate the uppermost reaches of your society by procuring myself a parliamentary seat, then a higher-level government position, and from there staging a coup by handing out all of the moist and juicy government positions I can get my hands on to a horde of savage and uncivilized Americans who pronounce Ts like Ds and can’t tell the difference between real silver and stainless steel cutlery.  I just want to stay for a couple of months, and then I’ll leave.  I promise.   

Maybe you are unsure about how I will be a good temporary asset to your society.  Do not worry, I have many positive things that I can bring to the UK!  Living in New Jersey for the past 15 years has really given me a leg up in the positive traits department.  For instance: do you need a good crime spotter?  No problem!  I’m from New Jersey.  I can spot organized crime a mile away, probably even without my glasses.  I hear you have a lot of roundabouts in your country; I have to navigate one of those to get to work every morning, so that is something for which I am already all prepared.  (Of course, you will have to be patient as I am not used to driving on the left.  I might go around the wrong way the first couple of times, but I am a fast learner so I am sure that I will get the hang of it in no time.)  I also already know all about Early Morning Tea, so you can cross that off of your list of things to teach me.  

I have other skills as well, such as knowing how to avoid bears while taking out the garbage at night, interpreting pathological diagnoses, speaking rather poor French, crocheting doilies, etc.  I am productive, resourceful, observant, have a working knowledge of the Statute of Limitations for asbestos-related personal injury and wrongful death suits in all 50 U.S. states, and can be quiet and unobtrusive when necessary.  

Please, Mr. Prime Minister, will you use your secret powers and let me into your country?  I really am at a loss as to how to proceed.  I appear to have exhausted all of my options.  The ball is now in your court.  Thank you for your time and anticipated assistance.

Your friend and Hopeful Future Temporary Resident Alien,
Molly Kernan

P.S. If you happen to be looking for someone to edit your Border Agency’s website to remove all superfluous and redundant links and make it less confusing, I would be very interested.  

Day 10: One Confession

My mom brushed and fixed my hair for me every day of my life until I was fourteen years old.  To this day, I cannot put it up in a ponytail myself without hanging upside down on my bed.  Make of that what you will. 

Day 9: Two Smileys to Describe My Life Right Now

This is me at work

This is me even though I just ate a humongous Thanksgiving dinner.

Day 8: Three Turn-Ons

Wit, Brains, and the desire/ability to cook because my own skills in the kitchen are tragically limited, and if I don't find a husband who enjoys preparing food I'm going to either starve to death or accidentally blow my house to kingdom come by doing something stupid like preheating the oven without first removing the leftover pizza boxes from inside. 

Sorry if this one is a little short- it's Thanksgiving Eve and I'm too excited to have much bandwidth for creativity. 

Day 7: Four Turn-Offs

Arrogance.  We're all on equal footing as human beings here on planet Earth.  Except for Jesus.  Unless you are Jesus, you are not better than me.  So stop acting like it.  (Side note- I nearly always give money to homeless people on the subway because I'm scared that one of them might be Jesus and I don't want to live in a world where I ignored Jesus just because he smelled bad and was mumbling to himself.  I feel like that might have some serious repercussions.) 


Poor spelling.  There is absolutely no excuse for spelling mistakes.  It's called a dictionary, people.  Use it.  

Inability to take a hint.  If I'm not laughing at your jokes, you're not funny.  If I'm not responding to your attempts at conversation, I don't want to talk to you right now.  If I keep making closing remarks and inching towards the door, I'm desperate to get away from you.  And now that I've spelled all that out, there's no reason for you to not recognize these subtle indicators in the future.

Flagrant disregard for the rules.  Rules are there for a reason.  Please follow them, and make life a little easier for everyone.  


So I only get to say four things, huh?  Well there they are.  But rest assured, that list could go on and on.  I'm very easy to displease. 


*Okay one other thing and then that's it, I swear.  I know we're only supposed to have four, but the fact that I couldn't get the lines of this post to be spaced out evenly is seriously turning me off right now.  So there's a bonus item number five for you.  And you're welcome. 
 

Day 6: Five People Who Mean a Lot (In No Particular Order)

~Mom

~Dad

~Kirby

~Mack

~The elderly Indian man who salutes me with his walking stick every time I drive by him on my way to work in the morning.  I seriously love that guy.

Day 5: Six Things You Wish You Had Never Done

This was actually really hard because I'm generally pretty pleased with the way things have turned out so far, but I wish that I had never:

Lost my DVD of A Goofy Movie.

Sung at the office Christmas party last year because it's getting close to December now and people will not stop asking me to do it again.

Developed an anxiety disorder about being late (thank you Jac)

Eaten those Samoas for breakfast.

Waited so long to bring those books back to the library because now I owe them $98.00, and I'm too embarrassed to go pay the fine so I haven't been to the library since March.

Wasted so much time worrying about stupid things.

Day 4: Seven Things that Cross Your Mind A Lot

In no particular order:

1. What's for dinner?

2. I don't want to get up.

3. What day is it today?

4. Do I have to shower today?

5. I wonder what my next job will be.

6. I hope I can move out soon.

7. Please stop talking to me.  I just want to read my book and I'm on my lunch break.

Wow, okay, so apparently I have a very boring life and I never know what's going on.  And I don't take enough showers.  That was just kind of sad.  Let's pretend it never happened, okay?  I'll see you on Day Five.  Peace.  

Day 3: Eight Ways to Win My Heart. Barf. I'm So Not Romantic.

1. Feed me. Preferably with cheese.



2. Play stupid games with me, like "20 Questions" or "Guess the Composer".


3. Make me laugh. It is also imperative that you think I'm funny, too.


4. Use big words. It's even better if you use big words that I don't know. I respect a person with a large vocabulary, and have an extensive one myself which I use quite often, but appearing to be smarter than me will gain you more points because I love to learn.


5. Appreciate the finer points of grammar. Demonstrating that you know the proper use of a semicolon will probably get you to at least second base.


6. Extensive knowledge of the world of Harry Potter would also be helpful.


7. Be interested in what I'm reading. Especially if it's Harry Potter.


8. Love music. Go to an orchestra concert with me and don't fall asleep.




Okay so this started out as a list of ways to woo me, and somewhere along the way detoured into a list of prerequisites that must be fulfilled if you ever even want to catch my attention. It would appear that I have a very specific type. Apparently if you want to be a blip on my radar, you must be a highly intelligent and extremely well-read cheese loving grammar dork who also has a knowledge of classical music, is a major Harry Potter nerd, and thinks I'm hysterically funny. Crap. This could take a while.

Day 2: Nine Things About Yourself

Are you sure you want to ask a soprano to talk about herself?  Okay… just checking…

1. The first song that I have a conscious memory of singing is from when I was 4 years old. My mother told me to come stand by the crib and sing my newborn baby brother a lullaby. I sang him all three verses of "There's A Tear In My Beer" by Hank Williams

2. I can tell you exactly what is happening at any given point during the movie “Mulan” simply by listening to a random few seconds of the soundtrack.  

3. I’m a huge dork and I’m not afraid of it.  I am currently saving my money to purchase a teeny tiny replica of Stonehenge that’s going to go on my desk at work.  I’ve already cleared a space in anticipation of its arrival.

4. Today at work I was assigned a project that may cause me to need to create multiple spreadsheets.  I cannot describe to you the level of excitement that I feel regarding this possibility.  

5. I have a distant cousin you may have heard of.  His name is Johnny Cash.

6. I also have cousins named Cakey, Tweety, and Butterbean.

7. When I was a kid and living in California, I had this friend named Alison Hesterworth.  Every time she came over to my house, I would make her play Vet with me.  I would be the veterinarian, and she would be the person with the sick pet.  She would bring her sick pets (played by my stuffed animals) into my office so I could heal them, and I ALWAYS made them die.  I have quite a flair for the dramatic.  I haven’t talked to her in sixteen years, and haven’t a clue as to where she is now, but every now and again I think about her and wonder if she remembers this.  

8. I am very, very afraid of dying alone in outer space.  How this event could ever actually happen is a mystery, and the fact that it never will is inconsequential.

9. I collect antique hair combs and Pears’ Cyclopaedias.  Did I mention that I’m irrevocably nerdy?

Day 1: Ten Things You Want to Say to Ten Different People Right Now

This is Day One of the 10-Day Challenge!  So far it's fun, but that's probably because it's new.  I have a tendency to get excited about new things and then half-way through be like "This is boring.  I thought it was going to be way better than this.  I guess I'll push through anyway, because it's always good to finish what you starte- ooooh, something shiny!"  I have lots of partially-crocheted blankets that have met this exact fate.  My current ability to focus is in a tragically terminal state, so we'll see if I make it through all ten days.  But I'm here for the moment, so let's start.  Day One!  Here we go! 

LaToya- Obviously I’ll start with you, because I stole this idea from your blog.  I did not know you were a Mario fan.  Now every time I wear my Mario and Yoshi tee-shirt, I’ll think of you.  And, by the way, regarding something you told me once at Coldstone, it is my considered opinion that you are not too black to sing Juliet.

Katie- Eleventy-forty. I'm so happy that I get to see you every week, and sometimes twice a week, even though we're not in school anymore.  I couldn't ask for a better best friend!     

David Cameron- I would really like to come and hang out in your country for a bit, but am finding it nearly impossible to procure a U.K. work visa for myself.  Would you please use your Prime Minister powers and just let me in?  I only want to stay for a couple of months and then I‘ll leave.  I promise.

Alison- You don't read my blog (probably because I've never told you I have one, and even if I ever do tell you, you don't have to read it) but I was thinking about you today, so you made the list.  Hi! 

Mikey- Heathcliff, it’s me, a-Cathy.

George Martin- Are you almost done writing book 5?  No offense, but you’re getting kind of old and I’m worried that you’re going to die before you finish the series.  That’s what happened to Robert Jordan and I was most displeased. 

Megan- I’m so proud of you for what you’re doing with your songwriting.  Also, you have such a fabulous sense of style and I often find myself thinking of you whenever I’m less than motivated to dress my best.  It helps me.

Christian-  We should talk more about our mutual love for The Court Jester.  You’re the only person I know who likes that movie as much as I do.

Mom- You should find someone to fill in for you at church so you can come hear Lessons and Carols.  It’s super Christmas-y. 

Santa- Please bring me a fabulous apartment in the Hudson Valley area, and an awesome new job that’s more interesting than the one I have now.  And, if you have time, I’ve always wanted the ability to move objects with my mind.  I’m just saying. 

I've Stolen an Idea to Keep You Interested in My Blog Because My Brain Hurts and it Needs a Break. There's a Lesson in There, Kids. Laziness Breeds Thievery.

My brain is tired from entertaining you guys.  And also my space heater smells like it's about to catch on fire.  Hang on a sec.

I'm back.  False alarm.  It's fine.  Now, where was I?  Oh yeah.  My brain is tired and I'm feeling lazy, but I don't want to leave you guys high and dry with nothing to read because what if you get bored and stop paying attention to me?  So I've come up with a brilliant plan to give you a new post every day for the next ten days, but I don't actually have to do any thinking because it's an idea that I stole from my friend LaToya.  She's awesome and funny and she has a blog at www.lahdiva.blogspot.com.  Go to it!  Tell her I sent you.  Now my space heater smells again.  Dammit WHAT IS GOING ON????

Okay I can't figure it out.  It's making me nervous but I would rather be warm and take my chances than be cold but assured of my own personal safety.  If I die in a fiery inferno because of a faulty heater, then this post will be my last words.  Can one of you please promise to read it at my funeral?  Thanks. 

Anyway, here's the thing that's going to be awesome because you guys get content and I get a vacation from thinking up new ideas.  Ready?  It's a ten-day challenge.  I'll go ahead and give you all ten topics now, so that in case you see one that you think might be boring, you can just go ahead and skip that day.

Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.
Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn offs.
Day Eight: Three turn ons.
Day Nine: Two smileys that describe your life right now.
Day Ten: One confession  

Doesn't that sound like fun??  I'm excited.  Oh wait.  I just realized that in order to do this, I'm going to have to think of what to write for all these topics.  Shit.  There goes my brilliant plan to just phone it in for the next ten days.  So I guess that means that you guys get content, but I still have to make an effort.  Sigh... FINE.  It's a good thing I like you.      

The Supply Closet at Work is Probably the Safest Place to Hide From a Bear. Especially if There's an Ex-Nun Inside.

Last night I received a very awesome text message from a friend regarding her and another person, which required my immediate attention, but it was kind of late so I decided to save it for the following day (which would be today) to give me something to do at work.  I was looking forward to responding in a verbal fashion, but unfortunately I failed to remember that there is an ex-nun temporarily working in the room in which I usually make phone calls, and I would feel weird discussing my friend's opportunities for potential hook-ups in front of someone who used to be married to Jesus and probably still has a direct line to God.  

So, consequently, I was bored at work all day until a woman that I work with came over to my desk and started poking my face with her finger without explaining to me what she was doing.  I had no idea what was going on, and my first instinct was to freeze and then play dead.  Like how the nature survival shows tell you to do in the instance of a bear attack.  

Side note- when bears attack, do not run.  This only serves to excite them and bears are faster than you.  I don't care if you are Jesse Freaking Owens with four fancy gold medals.  You cannot outrun a bear.  Don't say I didn't warn you. 

Anyway, I was frozen in place, thinking about the likelihood of a bear attack, when I realized that she was merely comparing my face to hers in an effort to gauge how old she looks.  (I have no idea how old she is, but I would guess mid-thirties.  I am 25.)  

So, no bear attack, but still.  She was poking my face.  It was weird.  But at least I know that if a bear were to go on a rampage at my office, the safest place to hide would be the supply closet because that's where the ex-nun is and God would probably protect her first.

Bloggetty Blog Blog It's November!!!

17 days til Thanksgiving!  I can hardly wait.  Soon I will be able to listen to Christmas music... 

So yeah, I don't really have anything to say.  I wasn't planning on posting today, but I was sitting on my bed with Lappy doing my routine surveillance of social media outlets (read: facebook stalking), and the spirit moved me.  Why I don't know, because all I can think about right now is should the word "Bloggetty" be spelled with two t's, as I spelled it in the title, or just one, and that's not enough for a post.  You guys deserve better than whole sentences devoted to possible spellings of made-up words.  

So I'll quit now.  I will be back only when something newsworthy happens.  Sorry for the fake-out if any of you got excited about this.  I'll make up for it next time.

Things that MUST BE ACCOMPLISHED this week

1.  Clipping my nails.  

Seriously.  I don't know what it is about me, but my fingernails are freakishly strong.  They almost never break.  My current theory is that I have an overabundance of protein in my body, and instead of the surplus manifesting itself in awesome ways like really big muscles or the stamina of a marathon runner, I have instead been cursed with fingernails so strong that in order to trim them, I have to first soften them by running them under hot water for several minutes and even after that I still have to use the heavy-duty toenail clippers instead of regular nail clippers that are made for normal, non-mutant people.  
 
I think it's too much protein because I also have abnormally thick and heavy hair, and isn't hair made out of protein?  I remember hearing somewhere that your fingernails are the same substance as your hair.  Or maybe I heard that the horn of a rhinoceros is just densely packed hair, and is mostly protein, and then my bizarro imagination just threw in the fingernails for fun.  Either way, trimming my nails is an arduous task but it must be done, and soon, because they are now so long that it's affecting my ability to type.  Really, I've had to backspace so many times already in this post you don't even know.  It's taking me way longer than usual.
 
2.  Laundry.  

I'm drowning in it.  At this point it would just be easier to buy all new clothes.
 
3.  Write a blog post.  

Oh wait, I'm doing that.  Sweet.
 
4.  Go shopping for long-sleeved shirts.  

I think I only have five, and right now I'm just kind of repeating them a lot with different pants combinations, and hoping no one will notice.  Also, see number two, above.


So... that's my list of stuff.  Which can only be accomplished if I get up and start doing something, so I think I'm going to go get the pruning shears and hack at my rhino nails for a while.  Peace out, cub scout.

Is Twelve a Mystery, After All?

I just had a thought.  Remember a few weeks ago when I gave a shout-out to Dee to thank her for being number twelve and putting the stopper in my bottle of crazy?  Well, that stopper is wriggling loose, because here’s my thought: What if it’s not her?  What if it’s a stranger?  A mystery Deanna, if you will.    

I had just assumed that anyone reading my blog is someone I know, so naturally, because I only know one Deanna, I assumed it was her.  But I might be wrong.  That would be really embarrassing.  I mean, we all know what happens when you assume.  (Wait, you don’t know?  You must have skipped sixth grade, which is about the time that joke manifests itself.  Here’s the breakdown: when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.  Get it?  Haha.  Hahaha.  Okay.  Moving on.)

If, Deanna, you are a stranger, then I apologize for mistakenly identifying you as someone else in front of the entire online community.  Actually, “entire online community” is vastly overestimating the size of my audience.  I suppose  I should revise that statement to “I apologize for mistakenly identifying you as someone else in front of the handful of kind-hearted souls who follow my blog out of pity for my constant need for attention”.  So really, it’s not a big deal.  Don’t worry.  Only a few people were given a false impression of who you are.  

If, Dee, it is in fact you, then congratulations on getting married!  I’ve been stalking you on facebook and I saw pictures of your wedding.  You looked so beautiful!  Remember that time that we went to the antique store by your house and I bought a bracelet?  I still have it.  I can see it from where I’m sitting right now.