freakin!

i am totally freaking out! there was a burglary in my apartment building over the weekend - on my floor - 3 apartments away!!! and i just had a detective come to my door (when i looked through the peep hole and saw his badge i thought i was seriously under arrest...for a myriad of ridiculous reasons, such as bad financial decisions and poor choices in men...all serious offenses!) to ask me if i had seen or heard anything suspicious on friday night/saturday morning... yada yada yada. i supposedly live in a "secure" building! what does that even mean now!?! well, there is a door from the garage into the building that has been broken for some time and the officer said it is possible the perpetrators snuck in through the garage while someone was moving in on Saturday morning and forced his way in to the apartment down the hall. ugghhhhh. i am totally freaking out, not to be redundant. i am alone a lot (my fab new roomie and i aren't home together a lot) and it just got me thinking... number one, renters insurance is an amazing idea. and number two - just the idea of having someone home with you is so comforting. while i would prefer a six-foot-two-Tom Brady-look-alike, i will absolutely settle (lovingly so, jen) for my roommate. i use the deadbolt. i always lock the door lock no matter what. but what else can you possibly do? i guess maybe leave a radio on so it sounds like someone is home. get a dog. get a man. haha. take kickboxing (more likely to happen than the dog. or man). oh, i sooo not going to be able to sleep tonight. why i am being such a wimp? why am i acting like such a 'fraidy cat? cause it's a freaky, unnerving invasion of your privacy, of your intimate space and if it can happen down the hall...it can happen here.

ok so rationally i know it's not going to happen again - in this building, on this floor. tonight. while i'm home alone. and defenseless. but it's just the fact that it's so "close to home"... i was home when this was happening. while someone's apartment was being forced into and ransacked. who knows what kind of people do these things? i hear about these crazy, violent home invasions all the time on the news... like the one recently in newark. and - you know, i'm not one to live in fear of all the things that could happen. if things happen, i tend to go with the notion that there is a reason... at least i'd to think there is higher purpose for the terrible and scary things that happen to us. but who knows? maybe it's just all senseless. at any rate, i'm chaining the door and putting a chair in front of it. maybe sleeping with the light. i might recruit the bobby brady look-alike in the apartment above me to come keep me company... ok that was a little dramatic.

physical therapy sucks.

to be clear, i really do adore my physical therapist. she's professional, yet appropriately social. she's funny and likes to make fun of guys with me. i actually feel like i'm just hanging out - for like the first 5 minutes when she's massaging my knee and getting ready to kick my ass. well, ok. that's a bit of an over-exaggeration. but i will honestly say that my knee really disapproves of all this work - the bending and stretching and extending. it's exhausting! my main motivation comes from not wanting to walk like herman munster the rest of my life (although some guy recently told me he thought my limp was "cute"... really?). and also i want to run, skip, hop and play like all the other kids. actually, i really want to play soccer again (despite the insistence by my grandmother that my injury was god's way of telling me i'm too old -- at 30?? - to be playing soccer). and i really REALLY want to live out my blue crush fantasy at the all-chic's surf camp in costa rica - a bum knee just won't work. so i suppose i gotta suck it up or i will end up on an operating table and limping around like frankenstein. i think i need an attitude shift - i think this healing crap needs to be a body AND mind thing. so from now on, i will get myself into the right mindset to be poked, prodded and twisted into recovery. i will look at pt as an opportunity, not just to rehab my limbs - but to rehab my cynical, sarcastic, sassy soul. perhaps i should meditate before my pt appointments -- practice my breathing. get zen. or do a shot of patron.

gobble gobble...

ok. my family has made me swear that i will not write about any of the events that transpired at our lovely thanksgiving feast. they each asked, for their own individual reasons, that i please, please, please not blog about such things as -- turkey place cards, my brother's new person, family friends, my grandmother's behavior, or my excessive consumption of alcohol. so i shall not. i will respect the wishes of my family -- my adoring, supportive, loving family. i won't discuss at length how my grandmother, whose normally questionable behavior and judgemental commentary usually provides fodder for hours of post-holiday dr. phil therapy sessions with me and my mom, was actually with it and conversational - almost pleasant. i certainly won't go into details about the festive martha stewart-inspired holiday decor that literally took on a life of its own in my mother's house. and i absolutely won't mention anything about how i have yet to bring home a family-worthy person of my own for a holiday, which my mother thinks is b/c i am just embarrassed by all of them (i will neither deny nor confirm that...). furthermore, i will say nothing regarding my increasing need for alcohol as the day wore on and how much more entertaining the holiday can actually be when you're four glasses of pinot grigio in (to say nothing of how amusing i can actually be when i am four glasses of pinot in...). so there. i will remain respectful of my family's wishes and keep it all to myself... until my book of witty commentary and observational humor (as well as family secrets) is finally published.

ok lemme see if i can remember how to do this... it's not even that i don't have interesting things to say. to be honest, actually, i haven't felt very interesting. and yet, i am sure interesting, amusing, entertaining, blog-worthy things have been unfolding right before my very eyes. such as the following events (it should be noted that as i was recounting this amusing tale to a friend, he reminded me that my story-telling talents should be shared with the world... and i temporarily remembered that i had an audience -- of 4 people, including my mother)...

so my new fab roommate and i had a party this past weekend, celebrating her new singledom status (long story). it was a lot of family and close friends... and some random street dudes who apparently knew someone, who knew someone, who was friend-LY with my roommate. and so, here we all are - late 20 and 30 somethings, drinking lovely cocktails, engaging in sophisticated, adult conversation - listening to very sophisticated, adult music (a potpourri of 80s and 90s alterna-, indie, jammy rock music that really just served as background noise). then, in walks these... dudes. how shall i describe them? well, they were young-GER, average guys with little to no fashion sense and apparently an over-inflated sense of musical taste. so these jerzeee boyz were drinking my booze, stuffing their faces with my gourmet food, schmoozing with my peeps and basically living it up for free. and so then the self-appointed leader of the band of guids (pronounced "gweeds") sidles up to me and says, "so, ah, is this your place? your party?" it's hard for me to say, but i am fairly certainly this was not a pick up line. i got the sense that he had an another agenda (although i was looking pretty freakin cute). so i nodded and he introduced himself -- but he was so non-descript that i could not tell 5 minutes after the conversation nor now or ever again what his name was, who he knew to be at the party, or any other details that distinguished him from other guests. i was intently focused on two things -- one, his hoop earring in the top of his right ear (so jersey, so late 90s) and two, the fact that he was actually telling me that he did not enjoy our musical selection and could he change it. so, i think a good minute or two went by before i could actually verbalize any thoughts i was having... such as "are you for real?" and "who did you say you were again?" furthermore, was this dude seriously asking me to turn off u2? he said he and his friends were more "into" hip-hop and could i appease their request? i could not help but to laugh - and while smiling and laughing, i totally and without hesitation denied his request and told him to that i wasn't a dj taking request and the musical selections would remain as is. he seemed sincerely disappointed, thanked me (????) anyway and then drunkenly ambled his way back to his ck-one smelling crew of belmar-loving white boy rap fans. but the kicker -- the best part was when he reapproached me later on in the evening (when i was little more so enjoying the free flow of cocktails). first he asked me about my job (full-time teacher, part-time pole dancer -- j/k). and then he wanted to know about living in hoboken (my hood) and things like parking and the best place to get pizza.... where was this all going, i wondered? i was intrigued. and repulsed all at the same time. and then, he says -- "so would it be cool - and you can say no - but would it be cool if my dudes and i got lit in your roommate's room? i mean we'd close the door and all." being the (former) hipster that i think i am (was, actually) - i knew exactly what he was AGAIN requesting at MY party. and again could not contain my laughter. who WAS this guy? coming into a random party where he and his posse knew exactly one person and dictating music and recreational drug use?!? i have to say, i was not NEARLY as a offended by this request as i was the music -- i mean, come ON. the cure? u2? elvis costello? bob marley? the nerve! to imply that i was not somehow meeting the standards of my audience?!? impossible! unless, of course, you are THIS GUY. and then, he seriously DID proceed to hit on me anyway. he was pretty shameless. it was a little hot, i have to say (seriously - just kidding!)

ok, so it's not a riveting story, but it was enough to make my friend (who i think mostly just humors me) to laugh. so there it is. oh, yea, and also -- i am back in physical therapy for me knee, might possibly have to have surgery and this time my physical therapist ain't being as gentle as the last time (she actually told me to suck up the pain today. masochist.).

lack of...

i guess it's lack of time... material... effort...imagination... i don't know where i have been or what in god's name i have been doing. but it sure is nothing so intriguing. so lemme see if i can embellish... j/k.

actually, here is what i do. i get up at 530. that is a.m. it's still dark. and quiet. i get ready for my day and am out the door by 7, if not earlier. why, one may inquire? cause i'm a wee bit of a morning person and i like to get my day started as soon as possible. and yes, i am a nerd. ok, so on my way to work (middle school teacher in un-disclosed urban/suburban-ville) i stop for coffee - this is where i like to shake things up. some mornings i will actually make my own coffee (thanks to my back-to-school coffee maker from my grandmother who loves to shop kohl's with her senior discount card!). but my coffee never quite tastes right. so i like to alternate - between starbuck$$$ and dunkin' donuts - both equi-distant to my place of employment. the starbucks crowd can go either way - either yuppiest professionals with their bluetooth-s (or is is blueteeth) in place OR random construction workers in hardhats...it's strange. d-n-d has a certain appeal too - and it's about $3 cheaper. ok, ok...so on with my day. i get to work, i enlighten, inspire and educate the future leaders of tomorrow. i then bust out of the joint as fast as possible so i can go to my....second job. as a high school soccer coach (again, school to remain anonymous). i am responsible for turning a group of raggamuffin, goofball freshman girls into future mia hamm's and abby wombach's (please do not inquire about our record - freshman year is about LEARNING, not winning. although 1 or 2 would be nice...). so by 7 (now pm) i am finally on my way home, where i change, eat, check email and then... spend the next 2 or 3 hours - grading papers and getting ready for the next day's lessons. i usually fall asleep on the couch watching some absurd reality show. OR lately animal planet - "meerkat manor" is highly entertaining. i'll wake up, with papers all over, the computer and lights still on, the tv blaring, somewhere around midnight. totally disoriented i will somehow manage to get myself ready for bed and then... that's about it.

yeah, so it's a sexy lifestyle i'm living these days. but on a more positive note, the knee is healing fantastically, although running is awkward and i definitely have a little limp (someone told me they thought the limp was "cute"???). AND i have a new obsession - that has nothing to do with reality MTV or people-watching (although all fine pass times). i am obsessed with living out my kate bosworth/"blue crush"/surfer girl fantasy - i am planning on going to all-women's surf camp in costa rica!!! it is the most amazing, dreamy opportunity and i am soooo all about getting this thing nailed down. it's an all-inclusive, wellness, organic, zen place - and it's freakin in costa rica. so while my day-to-day life makes toll collecting on the nj turnpike look like a thrilling way to spend your day, it's the thought of paddling out and riding a curl (is that even proper surfer terminology or did i just make that up?) that totally keeps me going. and sane - cause i do work with 12- and 13-year old kids every single day. i'm just going to have to work out my irrational fear of a shark attack in therapy i think.

Things I Recently Learned...

This week was all about lessons for me... not just teaching them, but learning them.
Ok, first of all being called "gangsta" by an 8th grader is actually considered to be a compliment. Not necessarily in my circle of 30-something friends, but...
Also being confused for one of the high school girls that you coach is supposed to be flattering and it's probably not necessary to produce your driver's license to prove that you are indeed the age you claim.
When the gas light goes on in your car, you should make it priority (even when you "know this car") to get to a gas station. Good rule of thumb -- gas + car = go. No gas + car = stalling out on Garden State Parkway (well, almost stalling out).
People are lacking in manners. Case and point - when someone text messages you - "hello. how are you?" -- general codes of decency dictate that you respond.
To that point of manners and decency, falling asleep while making out with someone and then never calling them back ever again tends to haunt you. Even when that someone kisses like a fish and is just generally a little creepy. New rule of thumb -- snoring + kissing + deleting voicemails without listening to them = stalker. Avoid forcing yourself to kiss someone you have no intention of ever seeing again.
Yes, those collagen lip-infusion glosses really do work. After trying a sample at Sephora, I walked out of the store with a slight tingle in my lips. Walking out of the mall 20 minutes later, lips on fire, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window and swore I was looking at Steven Tyler. The swelling went down eventually -- two hours later.
A caffeine addiction can be just as destructive as any other kind of addiction. I realized that I am blowing $10-$15 a WEEK buying coffee-to-go! Lattes, macchiatos, cappuccinos... my physical and mental need to be jacked up on caffeine is wreaking havoc on my finances. Think investing in coffee maker at home will allow me to re-allocate my funds elsewhere - like happy hour on Fridays!
Lastly, I learned (or finally accepted) this week that I'm a pretty cool chic. I'm smart, I'm fun, I'm humorous, I'm easy on the eyes, I can watch football and drink beer on a Sunday. And I know I sound like Stewart Smalley ("i'm good enough, i'm smart enough, and gosh darn it - people like me!"), but seriously... if others are incapable (because they are commitment-phobes, self-absorbed or just general idiots) of seeing these fabulous qualities, then screw 'em.

Sunday Shopping

Please please please --- remind to never ever EVER going food shopping on a Sunday ever EVER again. Never mind the fact that my local A&P never seems to have enough carts and I inevitably end up perusing around with this teeny, tiny basket loaded to the brim with my Super Crunchy Skippy peanut butter, 10 frozen Lean Cuisines (they were on sale), toilet paper, and cheese (can't digest, but i loves it!). The factor that seems to have the most profound effect on me is not sad homeless man standing out side with an empty box pretending to sell candy, but rather... the endless parade of adoring couples who also feel so inclined to get their weekly shopping down at the exact same moment as me. Seriously? Has Sunday taken over as the new "date night"? Is dinner and movie out and a the deli counter and dairy aisle in? And it isn't even as simple as just couples... it's the couples who have obviously made no concerted effort to discuss an appropriate supermarket attack strategy so as to expedite their trip and really just end up clogging the aisles as they intensely discuss whether or not to get the sugar free or fat free pudding... if trans-fat is really just a gimmick...is one serving really is 100 calories. Oh lordy. It is just goes on and on and on... the enormous amount of label dissection and carbohydrate debate that goes on between these seemingly otherwise intelligent individuals...once they pair up in a retail environment, all hell breaks loose! And I end up suffering!!

But the worst - the absolute worst - is not the discerning consumer couple. The worst of the worst is the PDA couple. ??? What are you doing? In what perverse universe is making out next to the lettuce heads ever appropriate? What in God's name makes the paper products aisle so seductive that these horned-up couples deem in necessary to nibble on each other's ear lobes? I kid you not when I say this past Sunday I wheeled (wrestled a cart from a little old woman) past TWO couples who got caught in the moment...understandably so. I find the International Foods section to have a certain appeal as well. And I also often find it amusing to fog up the windows in the freezer section... I usually ended writing my name in the condensation. They chose ass-cheek prints. And the best was, as I was gawking at this man who had pinned his lady-love against the ice cream freezer, he shot me look as if I was invading their privacy. I laughed audibly as I grabbed my Phish Food - are ya kidding me? Dry-humping next to Ben and Jerry's is hilarious!

Anyway, since Sundays are now off limits for food shopping, maybe now I will have to dedicate at least one hour of my Saturdays, formerly reserved for drinking and shopping (not necessarily in that order), to this necessary event. Although I will no longer feel as though I am being secretly videotaped for some ridiculous VH1 reality show, I might find a cart without having to assault anyone and get through the produce section without witnessing soft-core porn...