TOOLBAG TUESDAY

I normally hate making blanket statements, but do you know what 30-something females DON’T miss??

The Michael Jackson crotch grab.

You know, the one where a guy puts his hand over his pants crotch, cupping what is most likely a micro-penis??

…It’s not a good look.

I’m sorry that I’m making you remember MJ’s douche dance move, but that’s what a 50-something year-old guy did to me last week, when I was hosting bar trivia.

And there was no music playing.

Paul, a complete stranger, had been bothering me while I hosted bar trivia for about a month.

He was always at the bar by himself—a creepy sign—and he kept trying to start conversation with me while I was speaking into a microphone or trying to sort through and log teams’ answers on my laptop.

Week after week, he thought it was OK to come up to me and personally tell me the answers to the questions I asked, engaging me in conversation.

And week after week, I threw a pad of paper and pencil at him and said, “If you want to play, you’re going to have to write down your answer on a piece of paper. You can’t just tell me what you think the answer is.”

It took him a few weeks to finally tell me that he “liked me” excusing the fact that he was 20 years older than I was, at least, and excusing the fact that I told him I have a boyfriend, ThankYouVeryMuch.

But Paul continued to bother me and run up to my table every time I asked a question to whisper the answer in my ear.

But last week, he graduated to Michael Jackson CREEP.

The question I asked was, “what body part do you examine if you use an 'otoscope?'”

Answer: The ear.

Paul, who was outside on the patio at the time, came running back into the bar, a man on a mission.

“I know I know!!!!” he said to me, as usual. Then he suddenly grabbed his crotch, four feet from where I was sitting.

“YOU EXAMINE THIS!” he said, laughing.

I believe my face contorted into the look of someone who was hungover and about to puke, and who had just smelled rotten eggs.

I hated that he made me look at his crotch. 

What kind of man are you to have to trick a woman into paying attention to that part of your body????

Oh and P.S. I could have had him arrested, I'm sure.

I stopped speaking to him instead, complete cold shoulder that I learned from a police officer in fifth grade as a tactic to ignore someone who would offer you drugs, as he stood there next to my table and chair.

“The correct answer is…EAR,” I said slowly and loudly on the microphone to the 50 or so people playing bar trivia.

Then, I added, “NOT YOUR DICK, PAUL.”

And then I stared at him with my rotten egg smell face as the room got silent and he turned red and got embarrassed.

…And that’s how I got rid of Paul.

(Drops mic.)

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

It’s National Teacher Appreciation Day today!!! Buy your nearest teacher a tequila shot!

It reminds me of this guy I went out with in college, who tried to teach me something.

Have you ever had a significant other try and teach you something? 

Like a skill?

…without PISSING you off in the process??

I suppose it’s hard to be a teacher when you’re not properly trained on how to be patient or kind.

Haha

This all went down when John, my boyfriend at the time, tried to teach me how to surf.

He was a very good surfer and I always admired his tan feet and decided that I’d like to learn how to surf, too.

And I had recently seen a group of actual (school aged) children learning how to surf one day, so how hard could it be?

A better question would have been: How hard could it be to teach someone how to surf???

The first thing John did was violently push me from behind.

There was no warning, it was a full-on beach ASSAULT. 

Right as he was walking towards the ocean with his surfboard under his arm, he passed me, pushed me from the back HARD, and kept walking. I almost fell face first onto the sand.

“What the hell?” I said, regaining my balance. I thought for a second the surfboard had accidentally hit me. 

But then he admitted to his deliberate attack.

“I needed to see what foot was your strongest,” he said. “You stepped forward to brace yourself with your right foot."

“Wait, THAT'S your test to see which is my strongest leg?” I yelled, looking around the beach to see if anyone witnessed this embarrassment.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s the only way to really tell.”

Then, John added insult to injury when he added, “You’re goofy footed.”

“WHO’S GOOFY?” I asked, again embarrassed, getting angrier by the minute.

“You. You’re goofy. You surf with your right foot at the front of the board. Goofy foot.”

I didn’t believe a word he was saying, wondering if I was being punk’d.

I mean…we hadn’t even started the lesson and I had been pushed like someone on the school yard and then made fun of??? 

He was already the worst teacher ever.

And then without so much as a proper lesson on the mechanics or a “dry run” on the sand, John whisked me into the freezing cold ocean, threw me on the board and then PUSHED me on his surfboard ahead of an oncoming wave.

I was immediately overtaken by the wave and was dragged underwater by it, surfboard flailing behind me, attached with velcro to my ankle and I put my arms in front of my face so that the surfboard wouldn’t clobber me in the face in its un-manned crash to the shore. 

...While trying not to drown.

Once I felt sand on my belly and saw the surfboard stop moving on the shallow surf, I got up and screamed at John.

WHAT KIND OF SURFING "LESSON" WAS THIS??!?!” 

It was the equivalent of pushing someone off the high dive when they weren’t ready. 

Letting go on a two-wheeler without their permission.

“YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!” I wailed, but John didn't see it that way. 

He told me to...OMG...stop being a "baby" and come back to the water and try again. He was totally unfazed that he made me legitimately scared for my life.

“TRY AGAIN TO DO WHAT? TO GET PUSHED INTO ONCOMING OCEAN WAVE TRAFFIC?" I yelled. "I DON’T THINK SO!”

There was water all lodged in my ears, which gave me a pounding headache and the absolute last thing I was going to do was put my life into his hands again.

“Just ride the wave,” he kept saying, like those were easy instructions.

DOES A SCHOOL TEACHER JUST TELL A STUDENT TO ANSWER A TRIGONOMETRY PROBLEM WHEN THEY’VE NEVER DONE ADDITION???

(Also I'm pretty sure they have a no pushing policy.)

We broke up soon after, which wasn't surprising, and I haven't properly attempted to surf again, goofy foot or not.

So…uh…happy national teacher appreciation day…to the teachers who are patient and kind.

For those who are not, though…

...buy their nearest student a tequila shot.

;)

-Jenny

Tears of Joy

The bottom line is that there isn’t anything I can say that could be profound enough to mark this momentous occasion.

Not in a Facebook status, not to co-workers who ask me where the H I’ve been for the past week, or anyone else who asks me “how’s it going?” when they hear that my twin sister is getting married tomorrow.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Come again?!?!??

MY TWIN SISTER JOY IS GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

My best friend in the whole world!!!

How can I possibly put this into words?

What can I say about something so magnificent and life-changing, about how perfectly life works sometimes?

Ok, I’ll try.

The most touching thing I've witnessed from observing Joy and Daniel is that they bring out the very best version of themselves to each other.

It's not to show off or anything. It's because that's the version of themselves they see when they look into the other's eyes.

:)

And you don’t want to let someone down by not being you.

:)

OK, so THAT did NOT make it into the speech I’m going to give tomorrow night.

Hahahahahaha

(Cue the violins)

Here’s my real speech:

For those who have known Joy and I since...oh, one year old...know that we often get into these giggling fits.

It’s very exclusive giggling fits, episodes that can only come from an incredibly strong connection with a best friend, where a quick glance at each other following something as subtle as a “word’ pronounced funny by someone can trigger an identical emotion of pure hilarity and joy that things like etiquette and manners just go right out the window.

you both find the same thing funny that no one else does.

Our own world where we just get tickled by something, a shared world that no one else understands.

I always knew that when Joy got lucky enough to find someone to laugh with her like that, he’d be a keeper.

Laughing, especially shared uncontrolled giggling. The kind of laughing people on the outside raise their eyebrows and look uncomfortable as you start crying from the laughter. It’s a true sign of having a special connection.

I first noticed that connection with Daniel, when I moved back to Charleston from New Orleans two years ago. Where I’d see them sneak glances at each other and crack up laughing without saying a word.

It is always the things you notice about a couple when they don’t think their being noticed that shows you they are a perfect fit. Like being extra thoughtful by cleaning his coffee mug in the morning, or offering to drive them to the bus every morning, hahaha even in a wedding rehearsal, where they automatically, natural held hands without any prompt, asking a few minutes later, “Wait, is this OK? Is this how we’re supposed to stand?”

It’s that ease and comfortableness that makes me so happy that Joy and Daniel are now man and wife, and will do these things for the rest of their lives.

I remember when Joy started referring Daniel to the man she wants to marry. (There wasn’t a giggling fit then)

And, in addition, to all the things that are obvious to everyone here today: How Joy and Daniel bring out the best in each other. Because the best version of themselves is the version that they see in each other’s eyes.

I would also like to add that remember thinking that Daniel would make Joy happy for the rest of her life, simply by way of laughter. Inside joke, uncontrollable riduciolus laihging. Even laughing alone just envisioning your best friend there Can’t wait to home and tell a story so you can laugh about it twice.

I hope you giggle on forever, inapproparite laugher in a huge room of people where you have to pinch yourself to snap out of it.

Where you know that no matter what life will give you and throw you, you can crawl up and remember a funny moment, repeat that word

And I love you.

DUH I’m not giving it all away here!

But I did want to drop a note to everyone in the internet space that JOY’S WEDDING IS TOMORROW!!!!!

And it’s going great. 

It’s been a week-long whirlwind of family and love and wine and laughter. As usual.

I already cried like a baby when Joy walked down the aisle at rehearsal yesterday...(wait for it)...tears of Joy.

Because it's the happiest I've ever been.

:)

Happy (almost) December 5, ya’ll!!!!!!!!

What a wonderful world.

-Jenny

How to throw an epic bachelorette party

It’s safe to say that if you’re still talking about a party several weeks later, that means it was PRETTY EFFING EPIC.

Which is exactly what I was going for: To throw my twin sister, Joy, an EPIC Bachelorette party.

AND GUESS WHAT!?

I DID IT!!!

I THREW AN EPIC BACHELORETTE PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAAAAAAAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 (high-fives self)

Let me tell you about this party, ya’ll.

Just in case you want to throw your OWN epic party. 

Because aside from the surprise inflatable penis that made an appearance, this party could be the blueprint for any amazing family-type party—a literal family or a "friend family."

The key to success? Rent a beach house and have everyone equally chip in upfront for all the food and alcohol.

So that when they show up, all they need to do is take a deep breath and relax.

1,2,3....AHHHHHHH

This is exactly what happened from Sept. 17-20, 2015. Fourteen girls spent the weekend at a beach house in Edisto Beach, SC, and the only thing on the agenda was go to the beach, eat, drink, nap, repeat.

Oh and there was an outdoor shower too.

Joy was the one who requested a beach bachelorette, and not because those words sound good together.

It’s because the beach is the most fun, relaxing place in the world and no one would have to worry about things like, uh, the real world for three days.

This particular beach, about an hour south of Charleston, SC, is also the most relaxed beach in the area (less people, no beach police) and unlike Charleston beaches, alcohol is expressly allowed.

Fellow bridesmaid Katy deserves all the credit for finding and securing our particular beach house, discovering that if you book after Labor Day, the prices go down considerably even though it’s beach weather well into October in South Carolina.

I mean, really.

The beach house was accurately described as “shabby chic,” and it had a huge kitchen/living room area for communal games, cooking and eating.

The trickiest part was coming up with menus for 14 that would be delicious, but also cheap.

I decided on a build-your-own-sandwich bar with two panini presses on the counter.

This was not only cheap (bread, meat, cheese, condiments, tomatoes, lettuce) but also in the spirit of doing whatever the F you wanted during those three days.

Don’t want lunch? Don’t eat lunch.

Want lunch? Plug in the panini press and go nuts.

It literally matched the theme of the weekend to a T.

Dinner was family-style sit-down meals, with taco night Friday and pasta night Saturday, which was expertly planned, because those are crowd-pleasers and good drunk food sustenance and ground beef can be used for both.

And sandwich items like tomatoes and onion and cheese can also be used for tacos and HOLY SHIT I’M A GENIUS.

taco dinner duty

(Breakfast was eggs, cinnamon rolls, etc. but I never woke up early enough to actually eat breakfast. I hear it was good.)

Food was purchased at Costco (with a scouting trip beforehand pretending to buy everything and get prices) and Costco won over everyone’s hearts in both the price and quality. 

(Consider them if you decide to throw your own 14-person, 3-day party.)

Now to the fun stuff: JOY.

This wasn’t just a girls’ vacation, this was A CELEBRATION OF JOY!!!! (Literally and figuratively)

Joy, who had 13 friends willing to spend nearly $100 each (plus the cost of gas) and take three days out of their lives to celebrate her final months of singledom.

Everyone pitched in to make the weekend so perfect for Joy—people stepped up to cook dinners and helped decorate the beach house with hand-made banners and “team bride” cups. 

Four girls actually flew into town for the party.

One girl battled with the TV’s five remotes to find the LSU college football game that Saturday, Joy’s favorite.

When Joy and I arrived at the beach house on Thursday night around 8, the house was already decorated and set up for the weekend. (THANKS FRIENDS) and I swear I didn’t see Joy stop smiling once.

I bought heart-shaped sunglasses (Thanks, China!) for everyone to wear on the beach. 

It was the perfect tie-in to show that we were all together celebrating the bride-to-be (Strangers on the beach stopped to say how cute they were and to give her marriage advice.)

Our friend Sara made a hand-made (hand-sewn!) sash and veil for Joy to wear on the beach over her bikini, and it was the most adorable thing ever, with her future last name on the back.

AND THE WEATHER WAS PERFECT!!!

Charades was a fun post-dinner game on Friday, and we split into two teams and picked dirty bachelorette words that I got off the internet.

(I wanted to play, too, so I didn’t look at the words when I printed them and cut them out with my eyes closed so some were wonky and cut-off but that was fun, too.)

It was the perfect opening night game, and Joy’s first charades of the word "cocktail" was one of the most memorable moments from the weekend.

ring toss!!!!

On Saturday night, Joy’s official “bachelorette party” night, we had pasta night, but there was a surprise: penis-shaped pasta!!!!

Can you see a tip???

I bought a box of these babies from an “adult” store (mom don’t ask). 

They also have penis pasta at Spencer’s gifts in the mall but the mall is depressing, with hardly any nudity. 

Surprise #2 was Joy’s favorite cake ever, A COOKIE CAKE FROM THE AMERICAN COOKIE COMPANY.

When I ordered this cake, I came across a problem: The “family” “Christian” American Cookie Company doesn’t believe in drawing penises on their cakes.

How rude!

However, with creativity I didn’t even know I had, I asked them to draw a palm tree...without any leaves.

I figured the base of the tree with coconuts would be a good representation.

“You just want...the trunk?” they asked.

“Yes.” I said, muffling my giggling. “We...uh...are adding our own leaves.”

When fellow beach-goer Kristin went to pick up the cake, they opened the box and said, “Is this OK?” and she also had to muffle her giggling.

 

 A chocolate penis!!!

Surprise #3 was Joy GAMES.

We did the popular bachelorette games including a lingerie party and the game where we asked her fiancé, Daniel, to answer questions and then asked Joy the same questions to try and match his answers.

It was very funny, very drunken and Joy got most of the answers right, such as Who has colder toes in bed? and What is something thoughtful Joy does? (“I can’t believe he didn’t mention that I wash his coffee cup”) haha

Then there was Joy and Daniel trivia.

I hosted the game, which was played like bar trivia.

I divided everyone into teams of two, of lifelong friends paired with newer friends and bought everyone a little dry erase board and asked 20 questions about Joy and Daniel.

The winning team got prizes that were also purchased from the adult store. (LOL. mom.)

And then there was more drinking and laughing and running around on the beach after dark and maybe some skinny dipping in the ocean and catching up with every single person for good quality time.

And then more eating, more celebration, more hugging, more wine.

...And then came the morning after.

 

(one person epitomizes how everyone feels in this photo, find her.)

And that’s how it’s done, ya’ll!!!

I could not have asked for a more perfect weekend, or a more perfect reason to celebrate.

JOY’S GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If the weekend was any indication of the quality and wholehearted support we have of her marriage, then Joy will be just fine. 

Everyone was so happy. IT was so happy!

Happy happy Joy Joy!

There was not one argument, not a single ounce of negativity at all. The coolest group of friends ever.

Which is how a family vacation should be. :)

Now that I think about it, that's the secret to throwing a great party: The awesome friends you invite.

(Also the weather was perfect.)

I seriously would not have changed a thing.

Thank you, Joy, for bringing us all together.

And thank you, everyone, for helping me throw the most epic party ever!!!!

Love you all to the beach and back.

:)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make a penis-shaped macaroni necklace.

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY (sort of)

I used to write a lot about how odd and hilarious (well, hilarious in retrospect) things regularly happen to me and my twin sister, Joy.

How we sometimes think we’re on The Truman Show and situations have been specifically planted in our lives for audiences’ viewing pleasure.

Like when Joy had to return an air mattress to Wal Mart because it was too short in length.

It was bought specifically for our visiting guy friend (who wasn’t THAT tall) to sleep on for a few days, but his calves hung over the edge of the mattress nightly.

But when Joy brought the mattress back to Wal Mart, a dwarf person was working the customer service counter and Joy struggled to explain that the problem was that the mattress was too short.

She ended up with a very eloquent, “It...er...well, it doesn’t fit a normal-sized person” and then she left red-faced, much more embarrassed than the dwarf person, who didn’t even really need a reason for returning.

Hahaha

I took one for The Truman Show team last week when I was at a work thing with a photographer taking photos of a large group of men for a newspaper spread, and my shoe broke.

UGH

Broke badly. Not just a heel...but the single strap that kept the shoe on my foot broke.

WHILE THEY WERE ALL STARING RIGHT AT ME, POSING FOR THE PHOTO. 

I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended nothing happened at all and raised one foot up like a flamingo (only  less gracefully) and stood one-legged as the photographer kept snapping pictures, my lone abandoned shoe on the ground.

And no one said anything!!

Not one person said anything!!!

Not when I stood one-footed in the hot concrete parking lot, not when I scooped up my shoe from the ground after the shoot was over, not after I had to transfer my shoe to the other hand in order to shake the hand of the president of the company.

AHAHAHA 

Nice to meet you sir!!!

Not when I hobbled one-footed back to my car on tiptoe, the hot concrete scorching the delicate pad of my foot.

“No one helped you??” my aunt asked when I recapped my day to her on the phone.

“No,” I said. “No one even mentioned it!”

“There were 20 guys there and not ONE of them helped you when your shoe broke???” she said. “Well, that’s ridiculous!”

“What were they supposed to do? Give me a piggyback ride?” I asked. “It was pretty much the most unprofessional thing that could have happened. Maybe they were just being nice to ignore it.”

“You know, men don’t even notice women’s shoes,” my mom pointed out. “I bet they didn’t even notice that you weren’t wearing one.”

Maybe she was right. It was strange that no one said anything. 

No one even laughed!

I DON’T KNOW WHY THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME.

THIS IS WHY I HAVE A WINE ADDICTION.

But I guess that’s just the title of this episode of The Truman Show: How I burned the bottom of my foot in a parking lot with nearly two dozen men as witnesses.

Also, when in doubt...offer a girl a piggyback ride.

-Jenny