Lack of car, bullshit rules and tornados

Trust me, the tornado is not a metaphor. I mean a real, rip the fuck out of your town, tornado. Apparently one touched down in Harvard, about 30 minutes from my apartment. FUCK DUDE. And there were funnel cloud sightings all over the place. HOLY SHIT.
But I was tucked away safely in Walmart. And by tucked away I mean standing at my register going "Did you hear we're getting tornados?!" And they'd grab their shit and go, "holy fuck! I need to go home now! Save the Hoho's kids! Grab the link card! Back to the ghetto we go!" or something like that.
No one I know was hurt. Or died. Or was effected, minus a few mini heart attacks I'm sure. But we're cool. Apartment still standing. It's sunny like God is all "Sorry Ya'll, but We know how much you hate that redneck town, harvard. After two tornados bitches STILL standing." It's ok God, we forgive you.

Speaking of walmart, I hate my job. Like before I hated it, but whatever it was a job. Now Its like "WHY MUST I WORK!?!" I got yelled at for doing my job yesterday, and emptying my hanger bin. Note to self: Don't do that shit again. NO CLEANING APPARENTLY.
So whatever. I'm down with that.
I get yelled at a lot. But whatever, it's walmart. And only like 120 something days til I can quit that shit and say "LATER SUKKA!" which would rock.

And for the lack of car- My mom is driving me to and from work now. Which is dandy, quality time she's a saint for doing it etc etc.
BUT FUCK I MISS MY CAR. I miss blasting my music, singing at the top of my lungs, chain smoking and flipping off old people. But no, Until Monday I have no car, which means until Monday I'm really sad.
My car is my freeeeeeeeeedom. My car is my transportation. My car is my baby :( And my baby is sick. And missing an engine. And sick. And going to cost a few grand to fix. MY BABY IS BROKED.

Fuck. It's like 10:30 Am. This is what I'm like when I get sleep. Sorry guys. I'm a bit...er..Awake for once. :/

So let's recap. My car is broken,but not because of the tornado that hit Harvard. We're all hating walmart and secretly wish the tornado or broken car, had hit that instead.

Did I cover it all? I believe so.


I get by with a little help from my friends...

Anyone who knows me knows how stubborn I am when it comes to asking for help. I will willingly offer it and bend over backwards for you, but when it comes to myself- no thank you.
This wedding is going to be the perfect example. It's going to kill me, I believe.
I want it to be perfect, like most girls want, but know I'm going to have to sacrifice a few things which I can live with. But when someone offers me help I'm backing away, "no, no I have this. It's cool. Don't worry!" And yet on the inside I'm going "HOLY FUCK."

Invitations, Save the dates and response cards have been approved and paid for. Will be here in a week. Then to ship them to John. Then to pack some boxes and ship those to John. Not to mention hiring a florist, DJ and getting a welcome package done for out of town guests. Coordinating flight arrivals for the Holiday Inn bus to pick up the guests, and making sure they can have the bus for sight seeing in the city or what not.
I need to look into a discount for car rentals for the party, and get a limo for the trip from my mom's house to the hotel. I need go through everything I own and decide what is worth keeping, what is worth shipping and what I honestly don't need anymore.

During all of this, I have to get digital pictures printed on photo paper, get a wedding cake, organize my life in a way that when it comes to move I can say "See ya later, suckers!" And be gone. I need to sell my car, but can't focus on that until I know it's fixed and working. Need to meet with lawyers, find an officiant and ship Sarah's dress to the UK. Have to get tux sizes, taste food, taste cake and figure out my favors.

Not to mention they emailed over the contract papers and my computer lacks Microsoft word, which means it wont open the contract. So I have to go to my mom's when I have a car, and print it out, read it, write a 500 dollar check and drop it off. But for now, it's there but I can't read it. Or agree to it. Or make changes. Or anything. Fuck.

And I assure you that I will try to do this all myself. And I will probably succeed. But right now, when it's all looming over my head, because I'm insane, I'm stressed. Add PSM to the mix and the fact that there is a child screaming in this apartment 20 hours out of the day and Vegas to elope is looking like a great idea.

So long story short, I need to get my shit together or this wedding is going to kill me. It'll be kick ass, but I'll be dead the day after.

Few things to mention

We've finally set a date, November 28th of this year. 131 days away I believe, which is just around the corner when you look at it like that.

My mind wont shut up. And regardless of what I do, it continues. Movies aren't helping, doodling isn't helping, writing is a joke and even throwing myself into music and books isn't helping. It's nearly 5am and I can't sleep because my damn brain wont switch off for the night.

Something has triggered this beast inside me, and I can't tell if it's good or bad. Bad obviously, since I'm still awake- but I have no idea if this is going to be a bad drop, or maybe no drop and just productivity?
Only time will tell, and until then I should do whatever it is my brain thinks is best, minus the not sleeping business. Even though doodling at 5am is exciting and all, I can only write "Fuck. Buck. Duck. Luck. Fuck. Luck. Duck. Buck" in cursive so many times before I start onto stars, hearts and various hair styles.

I wish writing would take my brain to a different place, but it doesn't. Doodling doesn't either but at least I can keep constantly busy with my hands instead of pausing every few seconds to try to think of phrasing, spelling or grammar.

So yeah. This blog is not what I wanted it to be about. But hey, at least the wedding got a shout out, right?


Cleaning House

Today I'm cleaning. But because I am so awesome at it, I'm wasting time avoiding cleaning by clicking around on the internet.



I know I haven't heard both sides of the story, I know this. I'm fully aware. But I know my brother, or at least I think I do and the shit she's saying about him only half of it's true.

They're both crap parents. I'm sorry, but they are. They get high, take care of their kid. She strips and takes care of the kid, they let others smoke a bowl infront of their child. Seriously, why are idiots having kids? Shouldn't there be a rule somewhere about idiots not being allowed to fill their uterus'?

It pisses me off that the only solution to any of this is calling DCFS and even then, the chances of that child being placed soon, are slim to none and as my niece who I never see and have no real attachment too (Not like the Niece and Nephew who I adore) other than blood, and concern, I don't want that happening to her.

I'm in a sticky situation and I don't know what to do.

Edit: Figured out what to do. I"m going to stay the fuck out of it. Idiots have and destroy children's lives all the time. Why should this be any different? Selfish children having kids, it's brilliant isn't it? Ah, oh well. Soon enough I'll be gone and none of it will matter to me.


First time I heard my brother "Rap" it was to this song. Sometimes, I miss him. Most the time I miss my childhood. Various reasons of course, but this song always takes me back. Not to mention makes me cry each time I hear it. Which is why I don't listen often.
It fits.

"I shead tears with my baby sister
Over the years we was poorer than the other little kids
And even though we had different daddy's, the same drama
When things went wrong we'd blame mama"

"A poor single mother on welfare, tell me how ya did it
There's no way I can pay you back
But the plan is to show you that I understand
You are appreciated"

"But now the road got rough, you're alone
You're tryin to raise two bad kids on your own
And there's no way I can pay you back
But my plan is to show you that I understand
You are appreciated"

"I wish I could take the pain away
If you can make it through the night there's a brighter day
Everything will be alright if ya hold on
It's a struggle everyday, gotta roll on"

God, what a brilliant song.

"Pour out some liquor and I reminisce, cause through the drama
I can always depend on my mama"


My day in bullet points

  • Woke up and went to work
  • Worked for a long 7.5 hours non-stop.
  • headed home, excited
  • Car breaks down on route 47 at a stop light.
  • get it to the side of the road, freaking out.
  • call my dad, who comes to my rescue
  • During all this I have to pee
  • Hold bladder
  • Go get Oil for my car
  • Oil does not fix car
  • Dad goes to pee
  • Sneak handle of captain into laundry basket for the three days off
  • Smoke a lot
  • Climb out of my window starsky and Hutch style
  • Hear my car alarm for the first time in 4-5 years
  • Say goodbye to car
  • Get home
  • eat bad apple
  • Get cramps
Yeah, this just isn't my day. Thank god I have three days off.


Trying to find the words

I’m not ignoring you, blog, I promise. It’s just I either haven’t had time or when I sit down nothing ever feels good enough. I know it’s all in my head, but even then there is a part of me who can’t let the words be written.

I’m in a funk, it’s a classic sign for me. The desire to write is there, but the ability? Not so much. I’ve been filling my time with movies, and TV and things that let my mind wander in a way so I’m not so immersed in my own thoughts.

Because that is the problem, I think to much. I worry, stress, think and over analyze what happens to be going on around me and then I let my life shut down in favor of seeing everything else.

And I forget to do the simplest things. Eat, sleep, write, sometimes I forget to blink. I’m a bit nuts.

I want to finish my blog about England, but I want it to be witty, intelligent and memorable. So I can look back on it years to come and go, “Yeah, I had a kick ass time.” instead of going, “Jesus, I am dull as hell.”

I want to tell you about the week John was here, and how amazing my friends and family can be. How my brother wore a blue hobo coat and the “Todds” (Really nice people, by the way.)

I have so much to say, and infinite space to do it in, and yet when I go to write about it, I just can’t. I will find something else to do. I will distract myself. Why?

Hell if I know.

I do know this. In my six months of unemployment of England, I’m going to write. Eat, sleep, breathe and live writing. I’m going to read about writing, write about writing and actually write.

Not to brag or anything, but about four (Yup, four.) people have told me to write a book. And that is fine and dandy, but I can’t pick a topic. I’m not an expert at anything and more importantly, I hate re-reading my stuff.

It makes me pick it apart more, love it less and doubt myself in a way that frightens even me.
But I’m going to do it. I’m moving to England, which is the biggest adventure I could embark on short of a sex change operation, and perhaps with the fear of leaving the safe and known behind, I should leave my fear of failure, rejection and not being good enough as well.


Apparently I did have things to say, but it’s nothing I wanted to talk about. Shame.

Home sweet home

Back in my apartment now, which is all fine and dandy I suppose. Over the next coming months I have a lot on my plate it would seem. Planning a wedding in a few short months, packing to move, getting rid of my shit that I'm not taking, and not to mention not killing people who irritate the crap out of me.

The last few nights I haven't been sleeping/very well. As soon as I managed to get to sleep last night, or this morning even, the alarm was going off telling me it was time to get up. And even now, I haven't moved from this chair to shower or feed myself because I'm just to damn tired.
And yet, it's 8:45 and I have to be dressed and on my way in 5 minutes.

My shirt is wrinkled, my pants are wet-but quick, as me if I care? Because I don't. I hate my job, and I put just enough effort forward to not get fired. The day I quit will be the happiest day of my life.


I assure you, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth

Although it sure does seem like it doesn't it?

I haven't had a mental breakdown, or even gone into hiding with my emotions. I've just been busy. And when I'm not busy, I'm forgetting I have a blog. See, I am House sitting @ my mom's and thus using her laptop. Which doesn't have any of my bookmarks so I have to remember off the top of my head the millions of things I do online, and google the URLS.
Turns out the main one I remembered was facebook. (Sorry, Status updates became my blog.)

I am also fully aware I have yet to finish my post about England, and may or may not ever get around to it. It's difficult being me with so many things to write about.
In fact, I had planned to write a lot today, but it turns out my cat has a face tumor, which is all well and good, but now he's gone suicidal eating plastic. I should take that as a cue to feed the bastards.

So until I'm back in my apartment, Wednesday, or have a day off... Which I don't know what that is.
You'll have to accept these few things.

1.) We put the fun into funeral
2.) David is the next american Idol
3.) The stew I make is 100 times better than my moms
4.) John is really good at cleaning
5.) I sucessfully stole the TV out of my apartment, only to return to see she who can't pay me back has purchased a new one.
6.) I need to go to the laundry mat.
7.) Cats are warm when they sleep on you
8.) Little brothers are irritating
9.) I miss MY bed.
10.) And I miss the Sims 3.



This is how wonderful he is, he's going to fly across the world so he can be here for me on Saturday. Doesn't he just reek of awesome? I think so.
I'm dreading Saturday. I'm also dreading going back to work- which I have to call and request extra time off still.
Feck. I have so much to do, and I dont want to do any of it.


Death and lack of Emotion

The problem I find in the last two days is my lack of emotion. At times I forget that my grandma has died. My sister's husband, Brad, asked me how I was and I responded with an over enthusiastic "Dandy!" and he looked and me strange. My inner monologue went something like this, "Oh right, you're grieving. Stupid Jen."

I don't feel upset. I'm not happy. Well I am, just not in regards to her death. I'm just.. I'm so Jaded.

At my Mom's funeral I cried. At my grandpa's funeral I cried and then played pokemon. This time around, the last of that side of my family being gone, I can't imagine I'll feel anything. And it's worrysome.
I bottle my emotions, I've gotten really good at it. And I'm scared that maybe, just maybe, when the bottle is full I'll lose my mind and everyone around me will suffer.

Maybe the biggest difference this time around is I have an amazing support group. Emily, John, My sister, my parents... people who I took for granted/didn't know then and now..

Or maybe I really am just numb to death. But no one else die so we can test it out, ok? That'd be awesome. Everyone keep living.

Ps. Micheal Jacksons death didn't even make me sad.


March 31st 1926- July 6th 2009

Today around 3:30Pm my grandma died. We knew it was coming, since they told us they didn’t expect her to live much longer yesterday night. I left work early, and then instead of going to the nursing home to be with her, I stayed home and pretended everything was ok. I am ok, but mostly I think it’s due to shock and my inability to feel real emotions.

So out of the lack of anything better to do, and feeling sentimental I bring you: Pictures of my superdisfunctionalandveryinsane family.



My grandparents were married 42 years. I know it seems hard to imagine, being related to me and all, these two were the nicest people I had ever met. Granted she was a bit crazy…

Mom Gma and JaneThis is my Mom’s friend from AA, My mom and my grandma.

Grandma 80sMy grandma in either the 70’s or the 80’s. She didn’t date or write on any of the millions of pictures, shame.   

Gmas BirthCertifGrandma’s Birth Certificate. I need to get it laminated or something, it’s in near tatters since it’s 83 years old..

Mom N MeMy mom and Me. Do you see the insanity that was my wardrobe? I thought I was the coolest kid in the world with my elastic sleeves with ruffles…

Six year old PatCheck out those ears! My lovely brother Pat, at 6 yrs old.

PatJenny and HopeMe and my little sister Hope. God we’re so young…

7-6-2009 9;25;05 PMI’m loving the magenta, aren’t you? Stylish old man. bwahaha.

7-6-2009 9;26;42 PMSome dinner some where. God shoulder pads were hot.

       7-6-2009 9;28;06 PM

7-6-2009 9;29;09 PM  My mom in the olden days. It makes me happy to know that I’m not the only Boyd who was forced to wear ruffles and sport a mullet.

7-6-2009 9;30;35 PMBaby Jen and then Pat and Jenny @ 12 &11 I believe?

7-6-2009 9;31;52 PMI love that they’re holding hands.  

7-6-2009 9;32;58 PM High waisted pants? Check. Matching shoes? Check. Ridiculous Hat? Checkity Check check.

7-6-2009 9;34;39 PM My mom and Fritz the hot dog dog. Do you see now why I want one?

7-6-2009 9;35;32 PMMe and Pat. God 4&3 maybe? I don’t know anymore.

7-6-2009 9;36;31 PMHalloween when I was 6 maybe? I had no teeth! Or pants.. Hmm.

7-6-2009 9;37;24 PMMoment of seriousness: I want to inherit this outfit. (Told ya she was crazy…)

7-6-2009 9;38;23 PMPat, Hope and myself. I think it was my birthday.

7-6-2009 9;39;07 PMSHOULDER PADS!

7-6-2009 9;40;01 PMI was so cool it hurts me to look at this picture. Seriously, I’m in pain.      

7-6-2009 9;41;19 PM Me and My dad in Chicago. Look at how cool he is. LOLOL.

7-6-2009 9;42;33 PMI don’t know who this is, but I love how they’re in a cage.

7-6-2009 9;43;38 PMThe caption on the back reads:   “The Day you were locked in the bathroom March 16th 2000” I’m scared to think who exactly was locked in the bathroom…

7-6-2009 9;45;14 PMBoth of my grandmas chilling at the Maxted’s house. 

Theres more, but Emily’s here and theres rum to be had!


I feel like all I'm doing lately is apologizing for not writing here. But work got in the way and on my two days off I was off having a blast with Emily.
I meant to write here last night and later today, finish my epic England post, but yesterday my mom called saying they don't think my grandma's going to make it through the night.

I'm not holding my breath this time around, but it doesn't make it any easier. So I'm not really in the mood to share my thoughts and feelings when I have so many (thoughts) but so few, (feelings) and thus, I will be putting off and update until further notice. So probably this afternoon when I'm going stir crazy and want something to distract myself.


Help me

I want to move out. Of this apartment. I want to get the hell out of dodge and either get my own place or move in with Jo-Anne. I need to.
I went to go to the bathroom and in the toilet is the remains of Joey's joint. I figured it was just a cigarette except tobacco isn't green. Not even the menthol kind.

So now my bathroom smells like pot. I don't know how "Please don't bring drugs into the apartment" translated into "Hey, Get high in my bathroom" but it did.

And now I want out. I do, I need to get out of here seeing as neither of them have any respect for me at all. I need to get out of here for my sanity. I Just need to. But I don't know how. Do I continue paying rent? Do I buy out of my lease and say "Sorry fucker." I don't know what to do.
I'm so confused, and as much as I love being on my own, I hate who I moved out with even more.



Shift that high-speed brain of yours down a few gears. It's time to plod and ponder.

Sounds about right, if you ask me. I know I owe another update and I will get to it tomorrow. But first I need to read a bit and then pass out for the night. I have major laundry to do tomorrow or at least some general room cleaning. But tomorrow night I plan on making Emily and her Mom (Not you Big J, sorry.) Eggplant Parmesan because thats just how we roll around here.

I've had a great couple of days. And I haven't been this happy in a long time.