Jenelle Evans, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Past Life Decisions

Jenelle Evans is the second place winner in the Teen Mom Train Wreck Awards (second only to Amber Portwood, who currently is imprisoned because she chose jail over a second rehab stint in Malibu).

Most of Jenelle's segments are a ride through Crazy Town. And normally they're full on ridiculous. But this week's adventure with the adamantly defensive "marijuana addict" was especially special:



I mean, wow. This is only a conversation you'd have with someone who has smoked themselves into idiocy.

Now keep in mind, the reason this girl is facing jail time is because she violated her probation. All she had to do was not smoke pot for 9 months. But, she smoked (surprise!) and failed a drug test. Then, her probation officer decided to give her a second chance, by letting her start her probation period over again.  She refused, stating: "I can't not smoke pot for another 9 months."

I guess jail is preferable to being on TV and going to college while your mom raises your kid and pays your bills?

It's ok, we understand. You did put feathers in your hair. That means something.

Man... watching Jenelle on Teen Mom 2 makes me happy that my white-trash, pot smoking friends ditched me in 9th grade because I wasn't allowed to party all weekend.




Spoiler alert: her probation officer arrested her anyway.

(third arrest, beeteedubs)

Fats-giving

Did your Thanksgiving involve free air travel?

All you can eat oysters and crab legs?

Turkey and beef tenderloin?

A kitchen buffet full of artery clogging deliciousness?

Pumpkin Ginger Snap pie, scotch eggs and cinnamon sugar donut muffins?

Free movies and TV you've been dying to catch up on?

Sunny 62* weather?

A gross bout of food poisoning?

Dart games, Star Wars debates, and making 90's style sand crafts?

Delicious and inexpensive phở?

Long nights, great conversation, and hours of catching up with old friends and family and basically having a fantastic time?

Mine did. And it was glorious. (well, except for the food poisoning)

Natacha and Chris flew me down to NC at the last second, and I spent the week re-charging and hanging out in the mountains. I know some great people.

Shiva Bowl champion

Yes, that pathetic 4 points is the best I've ever played in darts

the "grand slam": I can't remember the ingredients, but it involves booze-infused bacon, is chased with OJ and tastes like breakfast in Heaven.

Chris and Natacha's "tree that ate Asheville." To give you an idea of scale, that door is 8 feet tall

new camera app makes for insufferable  amounts of self portraits 

sweet graffiti 

I came home today to a reminder from Billvis Jay Purray that I had forgotten to eat my Bojangles. He opened my bag and sussed it out himself. I have the fattest, greediest cat ever. Never mind the fact that I had a Bojangles chicken biscuit in my computer bag. Shut up. 

Sigh, I love vacation. But now it's time to get back to work. And life.

And Liz and Dick, which is so terrible. Absolutely terrible. And not like, in a fun way. womp womp.

Oh well, good decisions.

the end of a saga

First things first: I don't know why I'm into Twilight, but I am.

It's the guiltiest of my guilty pleasures. I hate the writing in the books and in the screen play. I don't think Taylor Lautner is hot. Kristen Stewart has the charm and charisma of wall paper paste. The cinematography is canned. The make up and wig people should have been fired. The story is tired and obvious and then it's down right creepy and weird. There's nothing redeeming about the series, except for the fact that it made people read. 

So really, what it boils down to is it's just something I love to hate. People don't really get it, and I'm ok with that. I'm not a twi-hard. I'm not emotionally invested in the franchise. I'm not this girl:

But I am, however, the girl who likes to make a big to-do out of things. So in celebration, the Sparkle-Pire alliance gathered, and wore the mustachio'd t-shirts I made and drank up some boxed wine and headed to the theater. Because we're all in our mid to late twenties and we have no shame in our game.

Yep. I will admit, though, this was probably the most surprising movie experiences I've had in a quite a while. And I really want to talk about it, but I don't want to post spoilers. 

But, I will tell you that I was getting all kinds of riled up at the end, because it was uncharacteristically spectacular, and it was going in the direction of how the book should have ended. BUT THEN, there was a twist. And the twist was turrible. And I got so mad that I cried. (ok, that might have been more to do with the boxed wine and how mad I was at myself for actually having expectations of this steaming pile of cheese, sentiment, and creepy Mormon abstinence propaganda in the first place, but still).

Oh, and I lost my muff-purse somewhere in the theater D: I'm not sure what happened to it. But thank god I wasn't using it as a purse-purse, or else I'd be way more sad. 

Anyway, it seems like yesterday that it was the fall of 2008 and the psychologists I worked for convinced me to read the first book. And then, after a 5 month hiatus, I tore through the next 3. I'm a little bummed out that we won't have another shaming nerd fest next year, but I'm glad I had a buddy come with me on this terrible ride.

... This is quickly becoming the most embarrassing entry I've ever posted. More embarrassing to note is, I'm on my way to see it again. This time, with my mom.

No shame, guys. 

S*** I'm Thankful For

A gaggle of my Facebook friends are doing the "30 Days of Thankful" thing where everyday, they post one thing they are thankful for. I thought about doing it, and before I knew it, it's the 12th of November and I'm already 12 days behind. Clearly, I'm not good at posting every single day. So I'm just going to knock it all out right here.

30 Random Things I'm Thankful For:

1. My family.

2. My inner circle.

3. My pets (past and present).

4. My car.

5. My jobs.

6. Being able to read.
8. Metabolism.
9. IKEA.
10. Electric Washers and Dryers.
11. Make-up.
12. Art.
13. HBO, AMC, FX, MTV, TLC.
14. Hot showers.
15. The Internet.
16. Computers.
17. Coffee.
18. Joseph Gordon Levitt in a suit vest.

19. Science.
20. Knitting.
21. Movies.
22. Post-modernism.
23. Hot Dudes in glasses.
24. Hot Dudes with Beards.
25. ok, Jon Hamm.

27. My country.
28. Baked Spaghetti.
29. Advances in dental hygiene.
30. Low healed boots.

What are you thankful for?

Check Out My Muff!

About 3 years ago, I decided I needed a fancy hand muff. There was no practical aspect to this need, just a flat-out need.

I ran into procurement issues because I didn't want to spend over $100 or carry around something made of real fur. And, I was really lazy at the time and never put much effort into looking. And so, winters would come, and as I walked around with frozen hands, I kept thinking "man, I really should get a muff. Also, I should really find something else to call it."

I'm not sure when, but at some point I had an idea to make a purse-muff. A muff that doubles as a purse. How efficient! But, like every craft project I envision, I put it on the back burner and spent my time on other worthwhile endeavors, like a Sisterwives marathon or laundry or going to craft nights and gossiping instead of crafting. Such is my life.

However, at the Renn Fest, after I almost spent $75 on a terribly dyed fox fur muff, I decided that I wasn't going to let another winter pass me by without the warm efficiency of a purse muff. Thus, I made a craft date with Kristin and her Sewing Laboratory and set out to ACHIEVE SOME GOALS MAN.

It was like an episode of Project Runway where the challenge is to help a directionally challenged friend construct a dream accessory. Suffice it to say, there was lots of "so, like, I want it like, folding like this, into this shape, but it won't really make a shape because it'll be like, held on your hands--no around  your hands--and there will be like, seams here and here and a zipper for shit and yeah." while I folded and unfolded the pieces of fabric into some origami muff.

But, with her guidance (and her volunteering to do the actual sewing) the purse-muff was successful!

And so, without further ado,
 
How to Make a Purse-Muff:

1. go to a giant fabric store, like JoAnn's, and get overwhelmed by fur choices. Spend too much time deliberating, and be sure to change your mind 3x. Also, find an awesome lining. I chose fleece for warmth, and I chose dinosaurs, because dinosaurs, but that's just me. 

furrrrr

dinosauuuurrrrs

2. Put something inspirational on in the background.

yes.

3. Cut the fur to your desired width and length. I'm not good with numbers, so I just eyeballed it. Because I'm a professional.

Kristin showing me how to use "rulers"

3. Place the cut piece of fur on the lining and cut, so the lining is the same size as the fur. Allow for seam allowances, measure twice cut once, etc.

I mostly took this shot because I'm mad jeal of Kristin's workspace.

 4. Find the center of the lining, and sew in a zipper. Apparently, you can sew in a zipper using a sewing machine, but I decided to hand sew it. So Kristin pinned down an invisible zipper and I added my trademark "I Failed Sewing 101" running stitch. 

Professional

5. Next, pin the lining to the fur. Make sure to fold under the rough edges so you get a clean edge.
(I didn't get any pictures of this part. whoops)

6. Have your awesome talented friend use her badass sewing machine to sew through all that fleece and fur, thereby saving you hours of frustration. Remind yourself to get some lessons so you can really operate your own sewing machine. Further remind yourself to get your own sewing machine repaired after you broke it trying to fix it. Even further, remind  yourself you are not a sewing machine technician and thus you shouldn't be trying to fix things yourself.

By the time you're finished with your inner dialogue, the sewing will be done.

Alien Kristin loves my muff.

7. Start to run out of "muff" jokes.

8. Measure and mark sides for your inside seams. The inside seams can be as far apart as you'd like. You don't even need to have them, but I figured it'd help contain the "purse" part of the muff.

You'll notice that I put the fleece on backwards. Yep.

 9. Sew down the sides, making your "purse"

practical!

10. Finally, sew in some snaps or buttons or toggles, whatever your design aesthetic calls for. The snaps will make it possible to access your purse. Also, if you use snaps, they basically become invisible when you "close" the muff.

11. Make a lot of "oh, snap!"comments.

12. Finally, enjoy your completed muff!

be real jealous of our craft night attire.

The whole project cost like, $17, took about an hour to make (it took us much longer because we were gabbing and singing along with the Little Mermaid and taking snack breaks, but that's part of the fun) and I'm really pleased with the results. Also, I have enough dinosaur fabric left over to make something like PANTS. or a HOODIE. or a kitty bed for Mr. Bill-vadere.  

I'm really excited to a) have finished a project, and b) tool around town wearing a muff like some big classy bitch. BRING IT ON, WINTER!

...but I still haven't figured out a name for this fur tube of awesome that doesn't immediately conjure an image of a vagina. Any suggestions, internets?

Obama-llama-ding-dong

Yesterday, I stood outside in an uncharacteristically long voting line at 5:50 AM, without coffee, without gloves, and without many Democrats. But it was cool. I like voting. Voting is one of the few things I do that really makes me feel like I'm an adult.

I waited in front of a really pissed off 18 year old who was near rabid about having to be in line at the school at 6 AM on her day off. Justifiable rage, I thought. And when I heard her mom say "I'm so thankful that you're here. You're a part of America's history now," and then her response, "Well America can just go to hell. I could care less about this, MOM! I don't even know who's running!" I smiled and thought to myself, Yeah. America.

And so, I cast a vote for my uterus, for women's rights, for the LGBT community, for the middle class, for my student loan and credit card interest rates, for reforming health insurance, and for forward thinking, compassionate politicians everywhere. My dad calls me a socialist English major. He's just bitter that Mittens didn't win.  

I'm not very political. I have beliefs and principles and whatnot, but I'm not aggressive about it (unless I've had a couple of cocktails). Voting in the presidential election is about as civic as I get. In fact, the only time I've ever wanted to really get involved in politics was in the 4th grade, on the day we sat in an assembly to learn about the Student Government Association. I just happened to be wearing a skirt and sheer black tights, that day and thought I'd make a really pretty secretary. So I spent the rest of the day imagining what outfits I'd wear to the SGA meetings and how I'd end up having a steamy affair with the president.

... did I mention that part about adult me voting for women's rights? ok, good.

4 more years!

Wire-versary!

This weekend, I had another Horse Show Announcer gig at an outdoor horse show. It was basically me sitting outside on a plastic chair giving ring commands and announcing winners for 7 hours while eating donuts and drinking hot chocolate and eating more donuts and almost contracting frost bite on my toes because I don't own a pair of "winter" shoes. 

But hey, it's a living. And Mary was freaking awesome and spent both days hanging out with me so I'd have someone to talk to and fetch hot chocolate for me between rounds. And she also let me use her hot water/water pressure-tastic shower and made me tacos and helped me comb out the rats nest of my hair. Seriously, my sister rocks. (and Mary, this totally makes us even for all those dishes I had to do :)

When I got home today, I was exhausted. I put on fat pants STRAIGHT OUT OF THE DRYER and poured a glass of wine and sat down to decompress and watch some Boardwalk Empire, because I'm hopelessly behind on it. But I saw that HBO onDemand listed The Wire. I checked it out, and it was the last 5 episodes of season 4, my favorite season. Instantly distracted, I chose an episode and started watching. Then I thought about it... and then checked my LiveJournal for verification (yes shut up, I had an active LiveJournal when I was 25)... and sure enough, today, November 4, marks 4 years since I watched the very last episode of The Wire. 4 years since I sat back and thought, for the very first time, "holy shit. just holy shit, goddamn, what will I do now that it's over?"

I've seen one or two shows in the past 4 years that have left me with that feeling, but you know what they say. Nothing compares to your first. And to this day, The Wire is still my favorite series. 

So to commemorate this auspicious occasion, I've copied and pasted from the entry I made on my LJ on November 4, 2008. BEWARE WIRE SPOILER ALERTS BELOW DON'T READ ON IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED IT YET OR GO AHEAD AND READ ON IF YOU DON'T LIKE SURPRISES AND KINDA HATE LIFE AND THE JOY THE UNFORESEEN CAN BRING. 

Relevant and Insightful Conversations on The Wire

Me: sometimes I think how cool it'd be if McNulty came in asking for records of our shady patients, and I'd say, "not without a warrant" and he's like, "I've got your warrant right here"
Scott: and?
Me: and he totally whips out his warrant and I have to hand the records over.
Scott: oh that's hot.

Craig: snot boogie?
Me: YOURE WATCHING IT!!
Craig: just found all 5 seasons in my office. yay distributors.
Me: how do you like it?
Craig: i'll let you know after I rub ALL of season one over my body
Me: the wire is the reason god put sex holes in dvd's.

{an hour later}

Me: where are you right now? what's happening?
Craig: {long story about what's been going on in his life}
Me: oh shit... just meant where are you in the wire...

Addie: clocks go back on saturday. now we'll get another full hour to watch the wire!
Me: i LOVE daylight savings time!

Addie: what's wrong?
Me: i can't move. season 4 was so good, it fucking broke me. all my feeling is gone, i'm just a void now that it's over.
Addie: told ya it was good. just wait til you start season 5.

Scott: i bet mcnulty's car smells like a sloppy school girl.
Me: i dont know. the scene in s 5 where he was banging that girl on the hood of the car was kinda... hot
Scott: wow
Me: whatever. he could wipe boogies on you while calling you a dirty girl and you'd still spooge in your short shorts.
Scott: Don't say things like that--you know i can't handle it
Me: oh, i think you could "handle" it.

Me: i'd never put a weapon on you, even if you was in the game.
Scott: i'd pick you up from the joint with a jersey after i helped you get released after framing an asshole guard for killing inmates

Me: ...i'm going to put it in a story called "audrey and mcnulty's day at the farm: an exploration in 3 parts"
Scott: is most of it about him cheating on Bea?
Me: most of it is about me getting at his socks.

Addie: i hope the absence of new wire episodes doesnt make you realize you only liked me bc i showed you the wire
Me: oh god, me too. haha

Me: I'm about to watch.the.last.episode. :(
Scott: the feeling you have will now will stick with you forever


And it has.

Four years later, we still get excited about it:

We live fulfilling lives

In other news: I'm bailing on NaNoWriMo this year. It's all in the game. 

S*** My Dad Says

on explaining the "fight" scene at the end of Breaking Dawn:

me: I guess they enhanced the final fight scene for the movie.

Dad: Oh really?

me: Yeah, in the book, it's about 1000+ pages of build up to a vampire war that gets resolved in 2 pages with a teeny tiny slap fight. Worst fight scene, ever.

Dad: Like two T-Rex's with no teeth going at it in a slap fight.

And later, watching the preview for an upcoming Project Runway All-Stars:

Dad: Kylie Minogue?? Ms. Legs Australian. Just don't look at her face.

Me: ?

Dad: She has the most beautiful body for dancing, and then you see her face, and it's just, Aghhh!! Helen Gurley Brown. You've gotta get orchestra rear to watch her concerts. She just... she just has nothing to offer in her face.

Me: How.... how do you even know who Kylie Minogue is, Dad?

Dad: Who doesn't know who Kylie Minogue is?

Touche.

a home of one's own

I'm a homebody.

I mean, yeah, I love to get dressed up and go out or strike out on adventures, but once I get really settled into a place and make it my home, there's typically no place I'd rather be to hang out. And I've spent a lot of time, money and effort into building my little area in the house into all that I need it to be for a good place to hang and write and decompress.

That being said, I will occasionally get cabin fever. Unfortunately though, for me, cabin fever doesn't build gradually, like, "hm... I think I need to go take a walk or run some annoying errands." It's always a SNAP moment when I'm like, re-arranging my closet for the 5th time in a row, or as I'm starting the eleventh episode of a Degrassi marathon, or realizing my hand is permanently cramped around my mouse during an MS Paint drawing, or 2 pages deep in a story when my brain suddenly screams I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE. And then it's a race against time and the Feelings Monster to get out of the house. 

This happened on Tuesday. And in an effort to be constructive/prepare for National Novel Writing Month (HOLY CRAP THAT STARTS TODAY), I decided to go out and find a new, easier place to write. So I grabbed up my lap top and headed out for coffee.

I know where this going. A coffee shop? To write? I know. I'm a big ol' tool bag. I bet it's Starbucks, too. Yeah, you're right. It was Starbucks.

However, consider this while you're judging me: one of the less appealing aspects of Northern Virginia living is the lack of independent coffee places. We are a region ruled by Starbucks and to a much lesser extent, Caribou. There is one place I know of called Deja-brew, but it's 20 minutes away and closes at 6 everyday, so by the time I get there after work, I have half an hour before I need to leave. And all the 'Bucks are open til 10 or 11 PM. So, considering how much I don't like Starbucks coffee, having it as my primary option for coffee and hangouts just needles me. (Yes, the simple solution would be to learn to live without coffee shop hangouts. But sometimes you just need a latte and a place to hang out that's not 20 miles away and where you don't have to tip the wait staff.)

Anyway, I get to Starbucks, settle in with my too expensive cup of foam, syrups and espresso, and flip open my computer and start working when it suddenly dawns on me.. oh my god. I'm at Starbucks. On my Mac. Working on my novel. 

oh man, then I took a picture of it.

I have become everything I hate. 

Try as I might, I just couldn't get comfortable. So I downed the rest of my coffee and beat feet right across the street to the Bungalow Ale House, where the bar was delightfully near-empty. There, after a $4 glass of happy hour wine and some friendly chit chat with my new favorite bartender, I felt right at home.

But closer to the end of happy hour, the bar started to crowd up and it became apparent that sitting at a bar trying to work on an expensive computer was bad idea jeans. That, and as always at bars, I got way too chatty with the bartender and other lonely early evening drinkers and lost focus on my work.

(I just thought of this, but I consider a $4 glass of wine to be amazingly priced, while a $4 latte is still like, out of this world expensive. I mean, it'd probably cost me considerably more to replicate the latte at home (espresso machines are expensive), whereas the $4 glass of wine probably came from a $8 bottle. I think I have just officially changed my mind on what's the better deal, here.)

So, the quest for a writing nest for the next month didn't pan out as well as expected. The search continues.

On the other hand, Audrey: 1. Cabin Fever: 0.