TOOLBAG TUESDAY

I know movies aren’t real life and neither is Carrie Bradshaw (dammit), but in that movie with Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Mcconaughey where she tries to get him to fall in love with her and move out of his parent’s house, she uses a dying dog as bait.

Well, a fake dying dog. 

She asks him to come with her to the vet to “put down” “her” dog, which really isn’t her dog and who really isn’t dying.

As her character explains: “I cry, he cries. It totally bonds us.” 

I sort of get the point. In a relationship, asking someone to come with you to euthanize your pet is a huge emotional step. If you’re the person being asked to do this, it shows a certain vulnerability in your partner and makes you feel good that you were selected to make them feel better.

Right????

Jonas didn’t think that way. 

I honestly think he just needed a ride to the vet. 

Jonas dated my friend Molly for about five weeks, which was surprising considering he had a reputation for being a serial dater. 

They had gone out to dinner, movies, weddings, parties and had numerous sleepovers.

“We need to do this together,” he would say, looking at travel deals for skiing. 

Or, “We need to do that together,” he would say looking at (fill-in-the-blank-something-coupley).

Molly and Jonas hadn’t discussed the future or being exclusive, but she was his one and only girl at the moment, and she felt special.

Then his cat got sick and crashed. Fatally sick like leukemia or cancer or something equally tragic and had to be put down. 

“Will you come with me?” Jonas asked Molly.

Matthew Mcconaughey Molly was taken aback. This was a huge step. 

He wanted HER? To be there for this moment? It was huge. And even though, no, who wants to see a pet die??? Of course, she said. Of course I’ll be there for you.

She drove him and his cat wrapped in a blanket to the vet’s office very early one Saturday morning and stood next to him as the poor thing was euthanized. 

She cried, he cried. She hugged him and they spent the rest of the emotional day together. Molly felt more connected to him than ever before.

The next day turned out to be equally as emotional. 

Jonas dumped her.

“I’m not ready for a relationship,” he said over the phone.

!!!

WHAT!!!!

!!!!!

NOT READY FOR A RELATIONSHIP??!!!?

SINCE WHEN????

Why did he ask her to come with him to the vet’s office so they could cry and hold each other, uh, THE DAY BEFORE??? 

That’s not something you just ask someone you’re dating to do and then dump them. 

He should have asked his mom to go with him.

And what’s with the whole “we should do this and that” shit together??? Why even say that???

It was infuriating. 

Molly hung up on him without responding, thinking he’d call back or change his mind. At least a text, right?? 

AT LEAST A TEXT FOR KIBBLES' SAKE!!

But she never heard from him again. And she’s been wary of guys who own cats ever since.

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

I think Urban Dictionary is screwing guys up, because they don’t know what “bitch” or “whore” means anymore.

Wait, let me re-phrase. They don’t know when it’s appropriate to call someone those things. 

To be fair, I’d be confused, too, with 337 entries for the word “bitch" on there. 

337 entries!!! (In related news: That apple on the counter is acting like such a bitch.)

Now, I’m not one to condone name-calling to a significant other, but if you’re going to do it, you might as well say something that makes sense, right?? (Ideally something more helpful like ‘selfish’ or ‘discourteous.’) 

Charles, this guy my friend Sophie dated, routinely used the wrong insults when yelling at her. They dated on and off for a year.

Charles was funny and loud, but he drank too much and had a short fuse and when he’d get mad, he would start with these insults that didn’t make sense, and weren’t even warranted. 

Like when Mr. Bigglesworth's dad in Austin Powers would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. Haha.

Sort of the same thing. Only with curse words.

The first time Charles, uh, missed the mark was when they were out singing karaoke. It was a fun atmosphere and he and Sophie were very much together and being flirty with each other.

One guy that they didn’t know was up on stage singing a heavy metal song and was really getting into it. He was actually headbanging. Everyone was laughing.

His song ended right when Sophie stood up to go to the bar for another drink, and as she passed him she said, “Hey, man, nice air guitar!” 

“Thanks!” he laughed and walked back to his group.

When Sophie got back to the table, Charles was visibly annoyed.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Why do you have to be such a whore????” he asked.

????

“WHAT?” Sophie said. 

“Oh, nice ‘air guitar,’” he mocked her. “WHORE.”

Hahahahahahaha

WHAT!

Isn’t a “whore” someone who sleeps around with a lot of people (urban dictionary??) 

Since when is a “whore” someone who compliments a guy’s bitchin air guitar and then politely walks away? 

Did she black out, take her clothes off and hump this guy without realizing it?? 

Did she offer to sleep with him for money?

No. 

It was confusing. 

Sophie remembers, “he would always get drunk and accuse me of being a whore for no reason."

(Side note: If that’s his definition of a whore, I’d really hate to see what he calls uhhhhhhh…everyone else in the world.)

Sophie and Charles would get into fights over his ridiculous outbursts but they’d always make up the next day.

The final straw came a few months later, when Charles got upset and reached into his brain for another insult that made no sense.

He was supposed to meet Sophie and other people at one of their friend’s going-away party.

The party was at a bar that Charles and Sophie had been to many, many times with these same friends. “The one we ALWAYS went to,” she recalls.

“Meet me there at ten because we’re all grabbing dinner before,” Sophie told him.

“Ok, see you then,” Charles said.

When Charles wasn’t at the bar by 10:30, Sophie called him.

“I’m at the bar, where are you?” Charles asked.

“I’m here! I’m looking around, I don’t see you!” Sophie said.

“I’m downtown,” he said. 

“Downtown?? Why are you downtown? I haven’t been to their downtown location in two years!” Sophie said. “We’re all all the uptown one.”

That’s when Charles lost his shit. 

He tried his best to use his words.

“You're…A STUPID BITCH!” he said. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  

(Let’s check Urban Dictionary…is she a female dog? Is she Paris Hilton??)

Because I don't see an entry for "stupid bitch" that means someone else went to the wrong place.

“How am I a bitch? OR STUPID??" Sophie yelled. "We always go to this location, I didn’t need to specify.”

That’s when Charles accused her of “tricking him" into going to the wrong location and “lying to him" for her own “shady” agenda.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Excuse me?? Baking power???

Tricking, lying and "being shady" didn't apply here at all. 

In fact, it would have been more shady if they were at the downtown location and she hadn’t specified.

Charles assuming they were downtown and now being an hour late is even more shady than what really happened.

He eventually showed up at the right location but didn’t let it go, and put an even bigger damper on the going-away party. 

They broke up soon after that, Charles no doubt still believing that she was, is and will always be, a whore.

I told her to imagine him being as lazy as a chestnut.

-Jenny

Forbidden fruit

One of the most baffling moments in my life came when I was at the JFK International Airport in New York, in a busy terminal waiting for my luggage.

I had just flown back from Spain, where I spent a semester abroad, and was reverse culture-shocked by all the signs in English and all the blonde people.

I was chatting with a fellow student in the “international arrivals” baggage claim, when suddenly a BEAGLE wearing a VEST showed up out of nowhere, put his paw on my backpack sitting next to me and went, “YAP!”

“What the---” I looked at the dog, and then followed his leash up to a very stern police officer.

“Ma’am, do you have any fruit in your bag?” the officer asked.

I blinked. It was my first encounter with an American since I returned.

“Um…fruit?” I asked. My eyes looked up to my right brain quadrant. I was thinking.

“Yes, fruit. Like, an apple or an orange,” the police officer said. “Or a plant of some kind.”

“Ummm…” I said, trailing off. People were now staring.

I had left Spain 15 hours before and was tired and confused. Then I remembered that my Spanish host family had given me a bag lunch before I left, and parts of it were still in my bag. Including an apple. I gulped.

“Yes…I think I have an apple,” I said.

“Come with me,” he said, more sternly, giving the beagle a treat for calling me out.

My friend looked at me with wide eyes as I followed the officer and the hound to a “secure” area with more officers.

Baffling was the fact that the dog smelled the apple. It was un-pierced!!!! Wrapped inside a grocery bag…inside a backpack…in a BUSY AIRPORT TERMINAL!! I couldn’t believe it.

What a ridiculous super power.

The officer took my passport, customs form and airline ticket and handed it to someone else to review. Then he told me to put my backpack on a table and then please step over here, ma’am.

All the other officers treated the backpack like there was a bomb in it. Using gloves, another officer took it and carefully opened it, thoroughly checking every pocket, even the lining.

They then took out the plastic grocery bag and removed the offending apple. The beagle went ape shit barking.

More people started staring.

HOW CAN IT SMELL AN APPLE???? A WAXY, UNPIERCED APPLE??? HOW??? (I imagined closing my eyes in the produce department of a grocery store and trying to pick out what’s what just by smelling it. Not possible.)

“Did you know it is against the law to bring fruit or vegetables to the United States from foreign countries?” the officer asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Ummm…” I said.

(Yes, I remembered reading a sign at customs but had totally forgotten that the leftover lunch was in my bag. )

“No…I did not know that,” I lied.

“Well it IS!” he snapped. “It very much IS! Do you know that THIS (he dramatically waved the apple) could wipe out our entire crop industry???”

“Ummm…” I said. “I’m sorry. I forgot it was in there.”

The officer made a dramatic display of throwing the apple in the trash can and consulted with the other officers about what to do with me.

The first officer walked away with the beagle, on more fruit duty.

After a few minutes, I was dismissed, with a warning that if I had "forgotten" any other fruit, plants or vegetables in my luggage, I needed to turn them over to the authorities immediately. I agreed.

“So sorry,” I said as I returned to the conveyor belt.

I explained the whole thing to my friend (“…AND I don’t even LIKE red apples! That's why I didn't eat it!!...”) who laughed and said she thought my luggage had come around already, but wasn’t sure.

As I was waiting, I stared at the beagle walking around the terminal sniffing everyone's bags. He had already forgotten about me and my apple, that pesky, pesky fruit that keeps getting chicks in trouble.

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

What’s the deal with guys sending girls picture text messages of their naked penises??

…TO GIRLS THEY JUST MET??

Don’t they know they’ll never be in a Mr. USA pageant with incriminating evidence like that???

It’s also insulting. Like…what…you think I’m a slut?? Ohhh !!!! A PENIS!!! I’ll come running!!!!

Really, this is becoming an epidemic. Someone tell MTV to start aiming their public service announcements about the embarrassment of sexting nudie shots towards boys, not girls.

I mentioned this before, (and so has Seinfeld): guys don’t have attractive parts. There’s a reason why there aren’t pin-up calendars of dudes with their junk hanging out, all lopsided.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about this dude who sent my friend a picture of his junk after she pretty much dumped him.

“GOOD LUCK FINDING SOMEONE THIS BIG!” he wrote, along with a photo.

His gross factor doubled.

Certainly, there are exceptions to this rule. I imagine a long-distance relationship and/or a frisky Skype session would warrant peen exposure. Perhaps you have a girlfriend (or boyfriend) who likes that sort of thing. Great.

But don’t expect someone you JUST MET to be interested. Because more than likely, they will be grossed out, and they will show it to their friends. (MTV was right!!!)

This guy Casey, our second naked picture offender, decided to send a nude picture of himself to my friend Haley, someone he had gone on two dates with who he HADN’T EVEN KISSED.

Right.

They met at a bar and went to dinner and aside from a long, lingering hug, they hadn’t had any romantic contact. Not that Haley didn’t want any. He was cute and a firefighter. Swoon.

The way this SHOULD have played out is when Haley texted him that she’d have to cancel dinner plans because she was terribly sick, he should have brought her some soup or crackers or a Red Box movie rental.

Not texting her: “Really? You don’t want to hook up?”

(Um. No.)

“I have a 100 degree fever,” she replied. She said later that she thought he meant ‘hook up’ like ‘meet up.’

He did not.

Haley got another text from him and looked in horror at the screen of a picture of his lower body, from the neck down, PANTS DOWN reflected in his bathroom mirror with his penis out. (um…shaved. TMI)

“maybe this will make you feel better,” he wrote.

!!!!!

!!!!!

WHAT!!!!

SOUP, CASEY. SOUP.

It was shocking to see the pornography period, especially since she hadn’t even seen him with his shirt off. She didn't even know his last name! Why would the penis of a stranger make her feel better??

It was actually violating to the eyes, which were already swollen and burning as it is.

After a minute she wrote, “Maybe there was some miscommunication.”

Haley expected him to apologize or something. SHE WAS A LADY G-DAMMIT!

She had a terrible medicine head cold and was dizzy and this just made her feel worse, and dirty.

“Well, nevermind then” he wrote back.

!!!!!!!!

NEVERMIND!!!

And that was it. She never heard from him again.

What a dick.

-Jenny 

I’ve STILL (sort of, kind of) been watching you people

Happy New Year!!! 2013!!!! WOOOO!!!

I've decided that I like the way the number 2013 looks. It’s strong, and rugged, like how many pounds God can bench press or something.
Or the title of a movie about sweaty gladiators.

Anyway.

Do you remember how last year, I was all sneaky and had this invisible site tracker on this blog and saw how often you people read it and how you got to it?? 

And how my favorite part was reading everyone's dumb Google searches???

Well, guess what?? I'M STILL GOOGLE-SEARCH-STALKING YOU PEOPLE!!!

(Yes, unlike my fleeting obsession with Draw Something, Words with Friends and Voxer, this little piece of technology keeps on entertaining!)

Do you ever wish YOU could spy on people’s dumb Google searches?? Well then get yourself a big brother TRACKER and wait for the material to just roll in.

Year after year, I’m baffled by what people are searching for, and even more baffled that they're directed to this blog, which dispenses very little information.

As of today, 55,772 people have clicked on this blog in its three years of existence – averaging 38 people per day – and I can guarantee that 34 of them are looking for hair perms.

Hair perms!!! My most popular blog post of all time!

(Also, the post with the most unflattering photo of me. Wait, nevermind.)

Last year, my post about getting a shot in my ass for strep throat was the big winner (the combination of “butt shot,” “nurse” and “jenny” is still a porn reference but most people have figured out that my blog is not sexy) because this year, more people are trolling for the 1980s hair sensation!

More than even “Toolbag Tuesday!” Because people are still totally Googling “Toolbag Tuesday”!!!!

Goin global, y’all!!!

Over the past year, as I’ve done before, I’ve been collecting the funniest Google searches people have used so I can list them here and we can marvel at them together.

And, as was the case in years’ past, no one got any information from clicking on my blog.

Because WTF:

cartoon jesus is born

tag team pudding wrestling

high school bikini car

how to accidentally kill yourself

bacon tastes like rubber

surge soda

products that no longer exist

thriller outfit ideas

hot dog fingers

perms before and after

antibiotic shot on the butt pain making me laugh

I can get a shot for strep throat?

what days do you dress up for mardi gras

what ingredients are in a strep throat shot

Toolbag Tuesday blog

Toolbag Tuesday purses

I hate New York

how do I get tattoos of my twins

tight cold wave perm

nurse likes when she gives a woman a shot in her butt

!!

(Sorry, person from Alabama. You were no doubt disappointed. There weren't even any pictures on that post.)

Here’s to another year everyone!! Thanks for reading. May all of your dreams come true and may you never encounter a toolbag.

-Jenny

P.S. That perm was a complete disaster. Don’t do it! Don’t live in the 1980s!! Live in the 2013…with…sweaty gladiators. And butt shots.  

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

My college roommate Amanda had just broken up with her boyfriend Alex for the umpteenth time and was simultaneously studying for her chemistry final.

It wasn’t just a chemistry final, it was pre-med chemistry final, a grade medical schools would scrutinize and a grade other pre-med students would secretly judge her on. It was a big deal.

 Alex knew all this.

 Amanda decided to break up with him the night before her test, which wasn’t very smart.

 Alex didn’t take breakups with her seriously. And he didn’t take them lying down.

 "I DON’T UNDERSTAND!” He screamed into her phone, repeatedly interrupting her all-nighter.

 “Alex, I can’t talk to you right now about this,” Amanda said. “I’ll talk to you after my test.”

That went in one ear and out the other. Even though he was a junior in college, and should have known the severity of exams, Alex must have called 18 more times after that. It got so excessive, we had to silence our dorm room landline (Awwww. Landlines.)

The next morning, blurry eyed and delirious, Amanda walked to campus to take the chemistry exam. She wasn’t very good at chemistry and was still trying to memorize notecards.

She walked into the building and then noticed in horror that Alex was standing by the door.

 “I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU!” He insisted. It was five minutes until the test. Amanda brushed him away.

 “NO!” she hissed. “GO AWAY!”

 “I’M NOT LEAVING!” he said. She walked into the classroom, wholly occupied by Alex standing there.

 HE’S CRAZY! She thought. What, was she supposed to be impressed with his persistence?

She tried to get it out of her head and review the periodic table in these last few minutes, but then she looked at the door and saw Alex’s FACE in the tiny window. He was staring at her. STARING!! With no clue how rude and selfish he was being.

She gave him her most serious face and mouthed GO AWAY, as the professor announced it was time to put everything away. Amanda was fuming.

As she looked over the complicated problems and experiments, she couldn’t help but glance at the window. More often than not, she saw Alex PACING by the door. PACING. Like a lion. Waiting for her.

WHY COULDN’T HE TAKE A HINT?? WHY WAS HE RUINING HER TEST??!!! Amanda was on her way to blow the biggest exam of the semester.

That’s when the professor noticed the pacing lion outside his classroom. Amanda was in the middle of a solution when the professor broke the silence and said, “Who is that?”

Amanda froze and everybody in the classroom turned to look at the door. Alex was still there, unaware that he was being called out, STILL STARING AT AMANDA.

“WHO IS THAT?” The professor said more angrily, assuming it was someone helping a student cheat. No one said anything. Amanda held her breath.

Alex’s face turned to fear when he saw the professor walk over to the door. The whole class was staring. Amanda wanted to die.

By the time he got to the door, Alex had bolted. But that didn’t stop the professor from yelling, “GET AWAY FROM MY DOOR! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING??”

Hahahahahahahahaha

“Back to work,” he told the class as walked back to his desk. But it was impossible to concentrate. Where was Alex now? Was he waiting by her car?? CLIMBING THROUGH THE AIR DUCTS??? She scribbled solutions with only half confidence.

After an eternity, the exam was over. Amanda cautiously walked outside the classroom.

There was Alex, sitting on a nearby bench. He hadn’t gone but 10 feet from the door. You think he'd be embarassed.

“LEAVE. ME. ALONE!” Amanda said, as all the other students stared at the mystery person who caused all the commotion. It was mortifying.

“NO, I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS!” he said loudly. “YOU SAID WE COULD TALK AFTER YOUR EXAM!”

!!!

REALLY ALEX????

Amanda just shook her head and walked away.

 

In this case, there was no solution.

-Jenny

TOOLBAG TUESDAY

Christmas always makes me feel like I’m 12 years old. In a good way.

Our family celebrates the holiday at the same house we grew up in, with most of the same family members. We all have the same meal duties, and we still get presents from “Santa.”

But when I was 12, however, I didn’t have a cell phone.  Or Facebook.

I often imagine the chaos that would have been inflicted on my formative years if I had to worry about how many “likes” my status updates got (which would probably have consisted of melancholic Dave Matthews Band and Counting Crows lyrics haha.)

Anyway.

Last week, I didn’t have to imagine a 12-year-old Facebook confrontation anymore, thanks to David, a guy who my friend Samantha dated.

They had broken up a YEAR  ago, yet David still held a grudge, and decided that he would take to Facebook to annoy/upset her.

It started with a snide comment on something she posted in a group page. He commented on the post, not attacking the merits of it, but attacking the poster herself. He called her stupid. Yes, stupid.

Then, the immature insults turned to a private Facebook message. David berated her over and over and over, acting as if they had broken up yesterday, rather than a year ago. 

Why was he wasting this much time and energy into telling her she was terrible and selfish and “an idiot”? Out of the blue??

Didn’t he have anything better to do???

He did.

“I have to go now, I have a date to get ready for,” David wrote.

Hahahahaha.

A date.

What, was she supposed to be jealous?

 (Is he going out with the head cheerleader?? Will he carry her schoolbag for her??) 

God, it was so childish.

“Nice jab” Samantha wrote back, rolling her eyes.

Really, BFD -She had been on several dates over the past the YEAR, and didn’t feel the need to advertise it.  

“Well, he must not like her very much if he’s wasting all this time and energy messaging you,” a friend pointed out.

“That’s true…” Samantha said, adding that when the Facebook conversation was cut off, it turned to  nasty text messages. David was even more brutal via text than he was online. 

Cyberbully.

Samantha finally stopped texting him back, since that’s clearly what he wanted.  She deleted his number and all the text messages from her phone.

The next day, however, David was back for more.

“DATE WENT GREAT!” he texted, bright and early. Before 10 a.m.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha

So good that he couldn’t wait to text SAMANTHA???

Shouldn’t he be cooking this chick eggs or something??

Samantha didn’t text back.

That would have been stupid.

-Jenny